Amaranthine {Star Wars: The Clone Wars Fanfiction} DISCONTINUED

Chapter IV

~~~Author's Note~~~

*trigger warning: abuse*

Get ready for some Fira POV. She's had a really hard go of it, and I wanted to give a little backstory for her. I might do sporadic flashbacks, because Grey is currently fascinating me, and I'd like to show what his relationship with Fira was like.

Anyway, I'll reiterate the trigger warning: Fira has been abused, and I go into a little bit of detail.

Fira liked Rex. She was allowed to call him Rex, now. He reminded her of Grey.

And it wasn't just the physical resemblance: it was the honor, and the heart. Rex cared, just like Grey had, and that was something special that you didn't find very often.

Which was why she was doing this; doing it for both of them. To honor Grey's memory, and to help Rex and his side of the war.

Fira unwrapped the bandage from the wound on her arm and winced. It'd take a while to heal, all right. She scraped off the dried blood, and it started bleeding afresh. She hoped it was convincing enough. It certainly hurt enough.

She peeled off the black shirt and leggings she'd been wearing. That definitely wouldn't do. She'd found her clothes, tossed out the back of the medical tent. They were sufficiently trashed. She pulled on the stained, torn shirt and winced as the coarsely woven fabric touched her unbandaged arm, and buttoned her patchy cutoff trousers, not bothering to brush off the dirt. It added to the effect.

Grey's boots were too conspicuous, so she decided to go barefoot. It wasn't far to Cyron. She'd be fine.

She started walking.

Fira thought about Grey. He'd been the first good thing that Fira had ever had. She'd grown up in Cyron, on the streets. She couldn't remember a time when she'd had a family. She wasn't even sure how she'd managed to survive, but she had.

She'd been kicked around a lot; despite her lack of a home, she was naturally clever, and she'd taught herself how to read, work with machines, steal and not get caught. In fact, she was a good deal smarter than any of the other urchins in Cyron, even the ones older than her, and they were always 'needing her services'.

There was one boy in particular: a brutish giant called Backer. Backer, besides having strength to spare, controlled most of the kids in Cyron. Fira was much cleverer than him, and he knew that, so whenever he needed something done, he came to her.

And if Fira said she didn't want to do it, he beat her until she did.

But since Fira was the one that did everything, she was also the one that got caught. She'd spent many nights in a jail cell. And she was hit even harder when she got back, as a punishment for getting caught.

And so the cycle continued. Every time Fira tried to object or escape, Backer hammered her into submission, and left her wondering why she'd ever even tried.

Until the year she was sixteen. Last year.

The clones had arrived. It was the first time Fira had actually seen them. She'd heard stories, but in person, they were awe-inspiring. They offered protection from invading Separatist forces, and the Council of Cyron accepted. So regiments of clones patrolled the streets.

That didn't stop Backer, of course. He still needed his dirty work done, and Fira still did it.

Until one day, when she was stealing a box of spice for Backer. He'd keep some for himself, and sell the rest. But stealing spice was risky, and Backer's increasing demand for it left Fira with less and less time to be careful.