A/N. This is going to be a fucking full length novel, I don't do shit by halves. I've had this idea in my head for years now and just have to get it out. It's a slow build between master/padawan so hold on in there. I love the Jedi so much and they honestly don't get enough credit as being badass. The majority of the story is set about ten years before Rogue One and I started writing this waaay before Rogue One came out. Comment or Review, I always appreciate long as its positive. Ahaha jk. Nah seriously I'm a positive reinforcement whore. Anyway, enjoy reading.

The helmet was heavy, a burden on her shoulders, weighed down by the metal. Her vision was hidden behind the instrument used for padawan learner, her blue eyes, which she relied on, blocked by the blast shield.

'See with the force' he keeps on repeating as she gets stun by the robotic mechanism in front of her, like ant bites all over her body. Wildly, she swings her lightsaber around, trying to defend herself from the jabs of pain, but with no avail are her efforts. She was losing.

"I can't, Master! I tried and I tried like you said but it's not working…" She grumbled, taking off her helmet and chucking it to the ground with a thud. Her tangled hair hid her face from view and she frowned at her lightsaber, the matted brown wisp's shivering as she shook her head in disproval. Her childish features scrunched as she wiped the sweat from her brow, her pale skin glistening in the light.

Her master sighed, "Naya Corona, you need to use the force. Feel it running through you…. Don't think, feel."

"Yes, master." She complied with a grunt of impatience, putting the hunk of metal back on top of her head as she drew her lightsaber, the blue flash of energy appearing before her, under her control, unbeknown to her how much power she possesses if she just sensed the force in her movements.

"Now, let's try again."

Her arms ached, her legs ached, and even her ribs ached. The weight of her robes weighed her down as she walked through the Jedi temple on Coruscant, trying to escape another brutal training and meditation session courtesy of her master. Her legs felt like they would collapse on her if she took just another step, but the thought of getting to her chambers to rest in her bed made her walk that much faster. Her feet dragged with every step on the ground and her boots course from the strain of training. Blisters littered her small feet and she hissed in pain with each step she took.

Her shoulder was abruptly slammed into the wall to her right, inflicting more pain to the strained muscle. She snarled at the unexpected contact, snapping her neck to look at the being that inflicted the pain.

"Watch where you're going, human." Grunted the Fondorian padawan, grasping her by the hood of her robe as he sneered, his grey eyes glaring down at her.

"Get off me, Danhai." Naya growled. His head hairless and his eyes pale, Danhai, was an extremely intelligent and regal being who believed himself to be smarter than any other species in the galaxy. He was large and well-toned who could beat anyone with brute force, as well as an obnoxious git.

With a sneer, he dropped her to the floor. Her body crumbled as fatigue finally settled in, her body curled into a fetal position to prevent any further damage to her person.

"Pathetic Neanderthal." He hissed as he nudged her in the back with his boot, shaking his head in disgust. He turned on his heels, walking back the way he came, away from the timid young padawan. Reluctantly, she lifted her head and looked around for any sign of danger. She lifted herself up from the floor, gingerly. Pushing on the palms of her hand; she reduced herself to a sitting position.

She sat there for what seemed years. All the time that she had been at the Jedi temple, she had never made a friend. Not one. Not that close relationships were encouraged. She looked at the metal plated doors opposite her, the doors to the Jedi council; a place which she was never welcome. All the times that she had been overlooked by master after master, trying to find one which would take her as their padawan.

She had ended up with Jedi Master Alton Tiris, a Jedi Morellian from the planet Morellia. Old of age for a human, but young of face. A rash and harsh master of the force and talented swordsman, Tiris was a Jedi supporting the fiery red hair typical of his race. His locks was short and cropped, though rugged with vigor. His eyes were a deep brown, capable of seeing through anyone and any lies. Though, she doubted that, as his mind tricks didn't work on her, not since she was only 10 years of age and a lot has changed since those days.

She has grown; her mid-length nimble brown hair was down to her waist if loose. But now, it was in a bun on top of her head, she had a padawan braid running down the length of her waist, plaited and finished off with a pink ribbon tied in a bow, a piece of material she was given from her master on her last birthday. The gift had been odd, since she didn't think he remembered the date of her birth. Thoroughly surprised with the gift, she had been left speechless as he walked away. Out of all of the years of being his apprentice, he had never gifted her with something so precious. He had a way of confusing her; one day he would be cold and distant towards her, the next he would do something that made her feel as if she meant something to him.

She smiled at the memory; her hands now increasingly cold as the day receded and night took its place. The temperature dropped and her body started to shiver. She sat there, unwilling to move. She was happy just watching the world go by, being lost in her thoughts was one of the pleasures of life.

Naya rested her head against the stone wall, listening carefully to the world around her. Muffled sounds were coming from the council room opposite and she inched closer when she recognise the voices.

"The issue is that she has no patience… I don't understand why you asked me to take her on, master." the voice which the words belonged to was deep and rough, though soft to certain ears who knew him frowned at the sound of her master's voice talking in such a hushed manner and listened closer. "I'm one hundred and fifty years old, master, I'm in a Morellians prime; why do you not wish me to train someone who has potential? The girl is thirteen years old and still shows no strong connection with the force. She is rash and impatient; intolerance and panic flows through her and I fear the worst. You know what happened to my last padawan, she is just as weak willed as him."

"Learned, is patience. Yet to learn patience, the young one has." The distinctive voice belonged to the inimitable Master Yoda. The voice was distorted and fragmented, a hologram since Master Yoda was on Kashyyyk helping his long-term allies, the Wookiees.

"I've taught her everything I know, but still she is showing no progress." He hurried, "If she is no longer my padawan, someone else may be able to teach her. They may be able to get through to her, though she probably would have been best suited to the agricultural corps."

"Not strong with the force, she is. Hmm? A reason I told you to train her, there is. Potential, she has."

"What do you mean, Master Yoda?"

"Only time will tell."

"But Master Yoda-" The transmission went dead as Tiris protested in vain. He sighed and ran a calloused hand over his tired face and threaded it into his matted locks. He tugged at his red hair before letting his hand fall limply at his side. Locking his hands together inside his sleeves, he walked out of the room, the metal doors sliding with a click behind him indicating his departure.

"You don't mean that do you?"

Tiris halted suddenly, looking around for the source of the question. He saw Naya huddled in the corner, her Jedi robes acting as a blanket to shield her from the cold. Tears pooled in her eyes are she look up at her master, hurt and betrayal echoed through their weak telepathic master-apprentice bond. A tear escaped her eye. Her bottom lip quivered. Control your emotions, her master would usually say, but now she found she didn't want to listen to any excuses her master may conjure up.

"Listen, padawan…"

She shook her head in refusal. Small feet were pounding against the ground before he could finish his sentence, a flood of tears threatening to spill from Naya's eyes as the wind flew through her hair. The girl ran out of the Jedi temple, through towards the bustling streets of Coruscant. She remember uttering apologies as she collided with people in her urgent need to flee. Remembered tears clouding her vision as she pushed through the onslaught on bodies, sweaty despite the coldness in the air. She recalled not turning back to look at the Jedi temple, not yet willing to forgive her master for his harsh words.

Only when she did eventually stop for breath did she realise she was barefoot; her thin training shoes must have fallen off in her haste. She felt exhausted and slid up against the nearest wall, leaning against it as her legs gave out. Naya fell to the floor, tears which threatened to drop before finally being released. Her chest heaved. She sobbed, drawing her dark brown robe over her small form, shielding all her features except for the top of her quivering head. She looked more like a small beggar than a Jedi padawan. Unnoticed and unidentifiable by all of the pedestrians who walked past. A quality which, later, would be most valuable.

She felt something hit her knee and she begrudgingly lifted her head up, wiping her face before looking at her surroundings. A few credits had been dropped by her feet. She picked up the thin metal, twirling it between her fingers. Money has no use to a Jedi, nor do materialistic items. Jedi were minimalists, vanity and egotism led to corruption.

She sighed, knowing she had to get back to the temple. It was her turn to look over a few designated younglings. The children taken before they develop an emotional attachment to their parents - they are then trained by the Jedi to love things compassionately, but not become attached to them. She had to change nappies and give bottles. The masters believed this is how some of the padawan's learned responsibility and how to protect, one of the main steps of the padawan trials. Though she didn't mind this chore, the younglings are usually the best company that she could ask for. Especially one in particular, a little Cathar called Handa. She remembered their first encounter; how easy the little cub had clawed her way into Naya's heart.

She has just finished a meditation session with Master Tiris, her mind had failed to go completely into a calm trance and she had found her body to be restless throughout the reflection. Tiris had asked her to lift a small metal globe in his palm using the force, and she had failed to do so. So he had sent her off to sleep and reflect upon her actions, or lack thereof. She walked with her eyes closed, trying to centre her mind, using the techniques that had been ingrained within her impatient brain. Her feet caught on something and she stumbled, suddenly opening her eyes. Naya looked around before her eyes fell upon a figure below her. Big green eyes stared expectantly back up at her, cat-like eyes wide with anticipation. It dawned upon Naya that this young girl was of the species Cathar; a species of feline, bipedal humanoids native to the planet Cathar. They were known for their loyalty, passion, and temper. Quick and powerful, they were considered great warriors and dedicated, efficient predators, though this youngling didn't look capable to harm with her glazed over stare and wide eyes.

"Who you?" She timidly asked, her hand reaching out to the humans robes for comfort.

"My name's Naya. What's yours, young one?"

"Handa."

"What a pretty name." The padawan praised. Naya looked around for the youngling's minder, aware that it was rather late for such a young child to be left alone.

"You're pretty." The feline youngling pulled at Naya's robe, playing with the material like it was a ball of string.

"Come on, Handa. We need to get you back inside before you catch a cold." Naya scolded as the Cathar began to shiver, still not quite used to the drastic temperature change from her native planet.

The youngling held out her arms expectantly, not shifting as Naya began to walk off, expecting the child to follow. With a sigh, Naya picked up the cub, hoisting the little one up with strong arms. Handa snuggled into the warmth of Naya's cloak, putting her arms around Naya's neck with a purr of contentment.

The padawan smiled at the child, now understanding how difficult it will be to accept that she can never have children of her own; it was the Jedi code, and rules must be obeyed if one wants to be a Jedi.

The child had golden skin with dark stripes, though her green eyes were now closed from exhaustion. She carried the child in her arms, the youngling now fast asleep, and a quiet snore repeating in Naya's ears with every breath. Naya walked to the rooms where the younglings resided, hoping to find someone who can help her with the child.

"Handa!" A voice came rushing over, belonging to a young man, most likely a Jedi Knight since he had no padawan braid.

"I think this young one need's to get some sleep." He spoke as Handa yawned, her tiny fangs showing with the movement. Naya passed the Cathar to the Jedi, being careful not to awaken the cub further. "Thank you, she keeps on running off."

"Of course." Naya bowed and left with a quick glance back, smiling on the inside when the Cathar began playing with the Jedi Knight's hair.

Naya shook her head, clearing her mind of the memory. In the hours she had spent alone, she was beginning to forgive her master. Despite his harsh words, she never wanted to stay angry at him; there were people far more cruel who deserved her concealed anger. She could see the outline of the Jedi temple in the distance and faint line of smoke was coming from the building, though she thought nothing of it. She kept her head down, making herself seem as small as possible. Still looking like a beggar on the streets, but now a moving beggar.

She let her feet drag as she walked back to her quarters, her lightsaber clunking against her hip as she ambled through the corridors. She took a back entrance into the Temple, one not many knew of and even fewer used. It was a disused sewer tunnel that started about a mile away from the temple and led to near her quarters. She knew she would have to face Master Tiris, but wanted to prolong it as much as possible. She hummed absentmindedly to herself, jumping onto the water fountain just outside of her dormitory and trod lightly across the stone as if she was on a tightrope. One foot in front of the other with her arms outstretched to keep her balance, the cold suddenly didn't seem to bite at her skin anymore; it was only a cool breeze that brushed over exposed arms, a breeze not violent enough to chill as most of the temple was heated. She jumped down from the fountain, skipping back to her quarters to gather a change of clothes before her duties, humming a tune mindlessly to herself.

All of a sudden, she stopped dead in her tracks. Something felt uneasy in the force, like a nagging sensation which made her gut churn in apprehension. It was too quite; the air had gone too still. Stagnant. She couldn't feel the usual light hum of the force which emitted from all of the Jedi's in the temple.

She recoiled as the eerie feeling became stronger, frozen in place with her eyes wide and her heart fast. She turned and ran as fast she could to the youngling's dormitories where she knew a Jedi Knight or Master would be. She wanted the safety of a Jedi by her side. She tried to pry inside her head at the weak bond with her master, the need to communicate her uneasiness becoming stronger each passing minute. She couldn't quite reach it, the few strands which linked them appeared translucent, as if they had been severed. Blind panic urged her forward.

She took the stone steps two at a time, she stumbled and staggered but didn't stop running, and her breathing was heavy as she came up outside the youngling's dormitories. She lurched inside, but bile rose in her throat at what she saw. There, on the floor, were the mangled corpses of many children and Jedi Masters, sprawled out with horror branded onto their faces. Scorch marks scattered the floor and littered the bodies.

Her breath caught in her throat, tears filled her eyes when she noticed Handa on the floor beside her bed, her eyes open and her mouth agape in, a child-like innocence crowded her features, her porcelain face resembled a china doll, though her body resembled a rag doll; her limbs thrown in all directions with her legs bent and her arms turned inwards. Naya cried out, her hand covering her mouth. The cool air brushed against her scorching skin, burning her eyes as tears fell from them. A helpless whisper fell from her lips, no, no, no, no. Bile rose in her gullet. She gagged dryly.

She reached out to touch Handa's body, almost believing it wasn't there. That this was some illusion, some horrid nightmare. But the solid proof was there when her fingertip felt the ice cold skin of Handa's cheek. She reeled back.

The force almost screamed at her, Coruscant isn't safe anymore. Run.

So she did.

Again her memory became fragmented as she ran through the streets of Coruscant, tears blurring her vision. The absolute panic urging her onwards, the force blocking any pain from her scraped and torn feet. The beggar was running again, so no one paid any attention to it.

She followed the direction the force pushed her.

She bumped into someone, a stranger whoever so happened to be wearing a dark black coat. She took it from him with one swift stroke, her nimble fingers and quick reflexes making it easy to commit the theft. The cloak hid her lightsaber and her Padawan attire from sight but did not hide the tears that stained her cheeks. Naya still had the few credits that had been thrown at her but they would not get her far.

She felt the need to flee, to get as far away from this planet as possible.

So she did.

A/N. Please Review.