Hey Aivia here, with an actual fic. Anyway this was my way of beating my mental block on my long list of Halo fics. Hope you Enjoy.

No One Mourns the Wicked

This was his home, his planet. They built him a temple, the Kaleesh did I mean, worship him like a deity, a god. But to me he is my master, simply my master. It didn't always use to be like that, I started as nothing just going around repairing droids, trying not to get in Count Dooku's way. I had been with them for as long as I could remember. The Sith was all I knew. My mother had been some sort of slave girl, she died in childbirth and Count Dooku took me in. I still don't know why. A baby would've just slown him down. He never told me, but I had my suspicions. I grew up on his ship, with the droids, they were like a family to me. I heard rumours of Dooku getting an apprentice, but I paid no attention. It was no business of mine, until it was made my business.

I don't know how it happened, one minute I was fixing up a droid when there were clones, not many just a small group, three or four I can't remember. They somehow breached the ship. They were firing at my droids, destroying them, the things I put my blood sweat and tears into. I felt it bubbling up inside me, my anger. Then two of the clones were against the wall, I suddenly felt so tired. That's when Dooku's apprentice appeared, Grievous was his name, General Grievous. He finished off the clones and turned to me, his lightsaber burning. He said nothing, for a while, staring me down like a predator does his pray. When he spoke I didn't expect his voice to be so raspy, nothing like a droid. He told me to follow him, then he left, not glancing back to see if I followed or not. Of course I followed, I wasn't stupid, I'd just survived a clone attack I wasn't going to get killed for insubordination mere moments after.

I kept my head down, just staring at the bottom of Grievous' cape as he walked. I had to almost jog to keep up with his strides. He stopped when we reached Count Dooku. He spoke in hushed whispers, I strained to hear what was being said but it was useless. Suddenly Grievous roared in anger, I flinched, glancing back at the door quickly before Dooku held up his hand. He turned to me, and told me my time as a mechanic was over. I would be a Sith apprentice from then on. Not Dooku's apprentice however, but General Grievous'. I suddenly realized why Grievous was so angry.

I was allowed to leave after that, to rest up for my training started tomorrow, I barely made it to my bed before I fell into the darkness of sleep. And I would need each second of sleep from then on. Grievous was not a bad master, just very…Unforgiving and ruthless. I was up every day before first light, before the rest of the ship was even awake, even the droids were snoozing on the job. He worked me for hours, until my body was battered and bruised. It went on like this for 2 years, constant training, the only breaks I got were when I slept or when he had a mission. I made the most of those precious moments when I could. Then one day my body wouldn't respond, my body was in so much pain I couldn't defend myself when he punched me in the face. I felt the pain, the sting of metal hitting against flesh, but I did not scream. If anything Grievous' training taught me was to grin and bear it. Showing pain was a sign of weakness. The last thing I remember was Grievous' golden reptilian eyes staring down at me.

I woke in the medical bay sometime later, my face bandaged and my bruises fading. Apparently I had collapsed from pushing my body too far. The medical droids attended to my face, removing the bandages and handed me a mirror. Where Grievous had struck me, was a scar, still fresh and pink. From what the medical droid said when he punched me the raw edge of the metal caught my skin, tearing it clean off my face. There was nothing they could do, so I was left with the permanent reminder of the day General Grievous tried to kill me. I still have the scar to this day, it has faded , but I can strangely enough still feel the burn from that day. At least I always learned to keep my guard up no matter what.

Grievous was different after that; he still was as cold and unforgiving, but something had changed, the training hours remained the same, but he wasn't as forceful as before, allowing me to rest and didn't push me as hard as he used to. It was almost like he'd changed his mind about working me to death.

And change his mind he did, despite his almost constant state of indignation he kept me by his side, training me, guiding me, turning me into the Sith warrior I was destined to be. I was 20 when I received my lightsaber. Now I expected Grievous to give me any old lightsaber, one of his trophies perhaps so I was surprised when I received my own lightsaber. It had a curved hilt, like the one I used in training, plain silver, but with a long scratch down the centre of the hilt, from right to left, only covering the right side. I was confused for a second, glancing up at Grievous, he stared back blankly. I then realized it was a reference to my scar. I touched it gently, running my hand along the 'scar' in the metalwork. I stepped back and ignited the weapon. The blade was standard length, and a brilliant blood red. I don't know how Grievous got my hand measurements. I believe the medical droids might have done it when I went for my check up. I'm surprised Grievous went through all that trouble when he could've given me any lightsaber or even told me to make one. But no, he went through the process himself. When I thanked him he just grunted and walked off, like he always does.

I soon found out why he made it himself. We'd been sent right to the front lines, not that I minded, I was eager to test my powers, my new lightsaber. It was that eagerness that cost me dearly. I got into a fight with a Jedi; I cannot remember his name Anithan? Aniki? I don't know anymore, I was never good with things like that. I was over zealous, just out of training, wanting to take on the world. I danced with him; our lightsabers showing the ground with sparks. I left my guard open just a fraction and he exploited it. For the second time in my life I watched helplessly as I couldn't prevent what was coming. Everything went in slow motion as the lightsaber cut through muscle and bone, tissue and skin taking my arm right off my shoulder. The pain, oh the pain was like no other, but my training once again prevented me from crying out, calling Grievous for help. But then my master was there, fighting off the Jedi, picking up my injured body simply stating I would slow him down if I walked. That's when I blacked out. I went into shock apparently.

The next part is hazy, I don't know if I was dreaming or not. Fading in and out of consciousness, screaming the walls down in the medical bay as the droids worked. They had to replace my whole left shoulder and arm, all cybernetics now. Just more scars to add to my collection.

Grievous was furious when I was actually able to stay conscious he shouted and screamed at me, calling me every name under the sun in 2 languages. From what I gathered I was a disgrace and a fool. He didn't take me out again for a long time. I trained by myself far more often, not willing to make the same mistake again. I was sent on several small missions in this time, but nothing with my master, or anything of great importance. It would be some time before I got a chance to redeem myself.

I finally got the chance when Grievous went to capture someone-or-other. He told me to guard the door to the bridge of the ship. And guard I did. I killed my first Jedi there. A young boy must've been at least 4 years younger than me. I was 22 at the time. He was an easy kill, his defence riddled with holes. I was still respectful to the body, taking the boys lightsaber, a trait that I picked up off my master. While I had no use for them, they could possibly come in handy in the future.

We were drove off by the Jedi soon after, my masters coughing was bad, even worse than normal. I had grown accustomed to his coughing fits now, but I still began to worry. He shrugged me off as usual, but I heard him mumble something about Jedi and their force powers. Another thing he'd grown to doing, I was getting more than just grunts and the occasional scolding and temper tantrum. We'd have conversations, short at that, but still conversations none the less.

We retreated to another planet, this one, this one I remember, Utapau. This was the planet were my master fell, killed by another Jedi. I'm sure if he was at full strength he would've killed him. I was ordered by him not to intervene because if I did he would cut me down on the spot. Watching my master fight, I'd seen it many times before, but it was still strangely hypnotic. I couldn't help but flinch as the Jedi severed one of his hands. That's when I remembered I had my own fight. Grievous ordered me to command the armies in his stead. I dived back into the battle, slowly edging my way up to where he was fighting. I'd noticed they'd moved, I cursed several times, another trait I'd picked up off my Master. I picked up the fallen lightsaber, stowing it away in the pockets of my cloak. Then I saw the others scattered around. I fought my way to each one, stowing them away in case my Master needed them. He would not be happy if he had to start his lightsaber collection again. They had vanished from my sight; they were somewhere else in the complex. I worried for my master. If I made my way to the Soulless One was docked I could partner up with him once the fighting was over.

It was a slow laborious task, fighting my way through the clones, but I finally reached the docking bay. There was no sign of the Jedi, but I fell to my knees at the sight of my master, his crumpled form.

I took his ship and left. I returned to base with the news of his death. Darth Sidious didn't even batter an eyelid. This infuriated me. My master had done so much for the Sith, it was his hand who lead the droid army. Who trained me, turned me from a snivelling little girl into a powerful Sith Warrior. This was an insult to his death.

I left the Sith soon after. I got all the information I needed. I still owned the Soulless One. I just up and left; the Sith had nothing for me. I had nothing keeping me here, my master was dead, the closest thing I had to a father, Count Dooku, was dead. Suddenly all the fighting seemed worthless. They tried to stop me, oh how they tried. I cut them down like they were nothing. Even killed a Sith warrior, he was a poor excuse of a duellist. I took his lightsaber, added it to my growing collection. I had 6 now, not including my own, but including Grievous'.

I was a renegade, a rogue, wanted by the Jedi and the Sith. What was it my master used to say? "I have toppled nations. I have slain kings. I have murdered legends. My name has been feared by warriors... and cursed by widows." I was nothing but a shadow, floating from planet to planet, never staying long. I'd had a run in with a Sith assassin that was sent to kill me, I killed her with ease. After 4 disappeared they stopped sending them. I had many lightsabers now, even beating my master's old collection, this I was proud of.

I stopped paying attention to the war, settled down on a remote planet, far far away from the Jedi and the Sith. I still heard rumours, everyone does, words floating on the wind, a game of Chinese whispers, I never really took that much of an interest. But after a while one rumour did catch my interest. They talked about the Kaleesh, how they worshiped a fearful deity, a warlord of great power, a brilliant commander and a merciless enemy. This was too much of a coincidence to pass up.

That's how I ended up on Kalee, standing in the temple of their deity, my master; General Grievous. I dropped to my knees, pressing my forehead to the cold stone of the floor. The Kaleesh watched me with a wary interest. I watched them out the corner of my eye when they tightened their grip on their weapons when I pulled out four lightsabers, placing them one by one on the altar. I said my prayers, apologies of how I failed, how I should've got there faster. How I should've intervened. I blamed myself; I should've saved my master. But somehow I felt at peace in the temple, like I was in meditation. I knew what I must do. I know my path now.

I would stay on Kalee; help defend the planet when it was needed. The Huks were rising again and I would refuse to let the planet fall into the poverty it clawed its way out of. I would honour my master's memory by fighting with his people. Then, when I fall, be it in battle or by the oldest enemy of all, age. I would be buried by my master's temple, where I can rest in peace.