((This story is the prequel to Pristine Condition which can be found here : s/11819228/1/Pristine-Condition ))

Keir and his wife Siva were in their late thirties when their dark haired princess entered their lives. She'll break hearts they were told like every new parent but they truly believed it and those who said it did too. It wasn't just regurgitated rhetoric, it was a genuine observation. She would be stunning. It may have been the reason for her terrible fate.

Lucilla had been a beautiful baby and had been doted on by her parents. And why shouldn't she be? She rarely cried, took her meals when they were given and slept as most parents wished their children would.

She was an only child who had been weak and small at birth but grew stronger by the day; they realized they were lucky to still have her. Lucilla's mother was ill consistently after their beloved daughter was born, the fumes of the Undercity didn't help. There would be no siblings for her.

Not that it mattered to her. She grew into the beauty that had been predicted, at least by the time she was six years old. Hair as black as night (it hadn't changed from when she was born), ivory skin and magnificent blue eyes of an indescribable shade made her stand out like her mother had. She breezed through as a docile child, little fazing her.

She was adored but not spoiled; they couldn't afford to spoil her. Complacent in the little she had, she adjusted to her family situation, assuming from the beginning that it was normal. She didn't question why her mother couldn't play with her or why her father was rarely at home.

She just knew that when she crawled into bed beside her mother that she was held like she was the most precious thing in the world. She knew that when her father did arrive home after days, weeks or even months away that she was swept up and cuddled. Sometimes he brought her back little gifts; an unusual shaped stone, a pretty flower or the shed claw of an animal; other times he couldn't.

Siva was native to Coruscant; the Undercity specifically. Keir was not. He didn't have the same years of continuous poisonous exposure that his wife did. Some of the dwellers had a stronger immunity than others but Siva was not one of these. In addition to the smog clouding her lungs, a difficult birth weakened her to a shadow of her former self.

"You'll be good for mama, won't you?" He sounded dejected, tortured but holding himself together for his daughter's sake. Keir held her up in his arms with a feigned smile. Lucilla's arms wrapped round her father's neck and those blue orbs watched his; he hated leaving and they both knew it.

"I will, papa….."

"My best girl. I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you too. When will you be back?"

"I don't know, sweetheart. As soon as I can." A defeated sigh ripped from between his lips when he noticed the time. Lucilla was placed down and a small but adoring kiss was placed to her forehead. The hesitation to leave was clear. "I love you, Lucy."

"I love you too, papa."

Needless to say, Keir didn't think that this may be the last time he ever saw his darling daughter.

Keir was gone a week when Siva died. Lucilla was alone in their bare dwelling with her mother's body for what felt like hours, lying beside her in the bed and cuddled against her back; weeping intermittently.

It didn't seem real. How could her mother be gone? Mama was always there when papa was gone and now she wasn't? How? That certainly didn't help her tears. She'd already tried and failed to rouse her until she realized she needed to find her father.

Lucilla had been told numerous times not to go outside alone, that it was far too dangerous. The Undercity was full with the bottom feeders of society and child or not, they wouldn't hesitate to harm her. Unfortunately for her, she was about to learn this the hard way.

The streets of the Undercity were vicious. Dark, smoky and crowded; this place was difficult to police. The most unsavoury characters roamed the streets, often shouting profanities at each other, sometimes fights would break out. It was no place for a young child, let alone a young child on her own.

She coughed slightly, feebly as the toxic air entered her delicate little chest and the smoke stung her eyes. Little Lucy had never been outside alone before and now it seemed there was good reason for that. Arriving at a familiar corner, Lucilla looked around and realized she recognized nothing. The frightened child was lost.

Small, delicate, frightened and alone; Lucilla looked around the bustling streets with panic. Everyone was bigger than her and all seemed to ignore her. Lip quivering and eyes filling, she couldn't find her father. The rain was almost acidic when it started, nearly burning when it lashed down onto her paper-like skin.

She found shelter in a nearby doorway and pulled the loose material of her dress and coat closer around her. Sitting among the rubbish strewn from the ripped bags, Lucilla tucked her knees up to her face and encircled her arms around them. Cold, wet, confused and distraught; the little darling broke down into heavy sobs that wracked her tiny form. Unfortunately, she caught the attention of the wrong person.

Varden Zedar was notorious. A criminal, a gangster, a conman; the most reputable thing about him was the nefarious business he ran for only the wealthiest clients. That business was pleasure slaves. Slavery was beginning to be regulated and in some cases, banned but the likes of Zedar took no notice of such regulations.

He was about thirty two when he found the little girl, alone and lost in the Undercity. Tattooed with his greasy brown hair in a ponytail, those ears were well adept at picking up the sounds of money and they hadn't failed him this time. He followed the melody of helpless weeping and found probably the single greatest find of his vile career.

"Hey….." He found the dirty bundle of roughly sewed fabric and crouched before it then peered into it, lifting a hand to gently move it and see inside. He was met with a pair of eyes of the most incredible shade; watering and petrified. He loosened the cloth around her face and was taken aback by the sweet, striking features underneath.

"What're the tears for?" He asked softly, leaning in to project trustworthiness and he appeared to be successful. "Pretty girls shouldn't be crying." And she really was pretty. Pretty was even an understatement.

"My mama died." Lucilla wept to the stranger, unable to stop the spillage soaking her cheeks. "I was at home with her and she died….. I'm trying to find my papa, have you seen him?" This poor little creature. And she was so trusting.

"I haven't seen him." Varden answered gently and took the liberty to glance up and down the street to add to the act of it before looking back to the distraught child. "You shouldn't be out here on your own. How old are you?"

"I'm six…."

"You're six." Unit signs flashed before Varden's cold, brown eyes. She was perfect. He could train her properly, break her in properly and she was striking to look at. If all went well, she would be massively valuable to him. He would be right. Well, for a short time.

"Why don't you come with me? We might find your papa on the way?" Her soft, distraught little sniffles would have broken hearts and flared sympathy but Varden didn't have a heart nor did he bother with sympathy. A grimy, bony hand was extended and Lucilla (not knowing the implications) took it.

The backstreets were taken to the compound, avoiding any chance of finding her 'papa' along the way. The compound lay on the outskirts of the Undercity and the little one's hand was held all the way there should she try and flee. So far, she seemed docile enough to just walk with him. The more time he spent with her, the easier she seemed to be to mould.

Brick walls with spirals of barbed wire on top; they were to keep in rather than to keep out. The gates, as tall as the walls surrounding, slid to the side to let them past. The dusky, concrete maze of shared living quarters (not that she knew what they were then) didn't seem to have a lot of footfall. Then again, the less movement outside, the better. It wouldn't do to attract attention.

The compound seemed to be abandoned. They walked for close to five or six minutes without meeting a single soul but the number of cameras scattered throughout the compound wasn't comforting. Lucilla looked around and her nerves started to climb with them towards the door of a grander looking building than the rest.

She wasn't allowed to ask about her papa anymore. She wasn't allowed to cry for her mama. They told her they'd hurt her if she did. They asked her name, she told them it was Lucilla. They said: Not anymore.

Lucilla lay in a small, cold bed that night. And despite being told, she cried herself to sleep. Or she tried to. She felt a weight on the side of her bed and a hand stroke through her dark locks. When she turned and looked over her shoulder, her bloodshot eyes found a girl a few years older than her. A girl that sat with her and assured her gently. A girl that would meet a premature end. Her name was Aleen.