A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, there existed two families who engaged in a millennium of blood feud. By the time it ended, no one remembered how it began, and so history began to fill it up with stories, to fit the epic nature of the conflict. History proved very inventive indeed.
The truth is, the truly always was, this was a matter between House Palpatine and House Skywalker. They were political contenders, leading figures of a vast Galactic Republic, sparring neighbors from Naboo and Tatooine. They slung dirt at each other. They accused each other of ridiculous things. They exaggerated the record.
The Palpatines said the Skywalkers were backward degenerates, little better than provincial pretenders, whose lineage wasn't important enough to be taken seriously. The Skywalkers said the Palpatines were war-mongering elitists, who were interested in little more than pursuing their own selfish, manipulative agendas.
Maybe there was truth to both sides. The louder the war of words became, the more people took sides. It was quite a spectacle. And, I remind you, this was dragged out for a thousand years, generation after generation of Palpatines and Skywalkers, father to son to father to son.
Eventually, by the end, everyone had stopped paying attention. Once again, only the Palpatines and Skywalkers truly cared. By this point, when no one was paying attention anymore, it was easier to actually achieve what they'd wanted all along.
And so one day a Palpatine asked a Skywalker, Will you join forces with me? And the Skywalker agreed. And that was how it finally ended. The two families worked together, and it was perfect harmony, so perfect it couldn't last, not the way the blood feud had. It ended within two decades.
And everyone moved on.