Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars or nuthin'. Allz I own is the Sith Angel and her species. There's also gonna be a few characters that are OCs, but it'll be obvious it wasn't in any of Lucus's films. If you wanna borrow any of my OCs, PLEASE ask first! If I give my approval, then I'd appreciate it if you give me credit for the original. That sounds reasonable, don't it?

Recap: It's been so dang long since I updated, I thought I might as well stick this in here, too. ;) So, the Sith Angel has been having these weird dreams where she's going towards a light (sorry for the slight cliche...), and even though it's burning her, she is still compelled to continue. Sidious, her master, then assigns her a job where she has to capture Chancellor Palpatine (she doesn't know they're the same person) and face Jedi. She goes, and remembers a semi-failed mission when she still lived on Naboo. That's pretty much where we left off...

A/N: HUZZAH! Joy unto the world, I UPDATED! ha. Sorry it took sofrickin' long. I'm a lazy potato and I've been SUPER busy. But yeah. I hope it was worth the wait, anyways!

A big THANK YOU to all who review! And please, if you take the time to read, I'd really appreciate some feedback. Especially if you liked it. I know I'm on at least one person's faves that I know hasn't contacted me ever before. So TALK TO ME! (but PLEASE no flames!)

ANYway...enjoy!
--Titan

Chapter 3:

The Sith Angel woke stuck in a tree, tangled in broken branches and hanging about ten feet from the ground. She thrashed a bit, getting untangled, but landing right on her injured wing. The Angel vehemently spouted all the curses she knew, which were actually quite a bit, considering her age. She swiftly fell silent with a snapping of twigs behind her. She sensed the presence of two native citizens of Naboo, one a Gungan, and one from the capital, two little boys, both slightly older than the angel. Ignoring her pain, she forced herself up onto her feet, spread her wings as much as she could, and growled, hoping her large shadow will scare the pestering children.

It worked for the Gungan, anyway. The amphibian child scurried away, wailing some incoherent gibberish. The child from the capital, however, continued on, mumbling about his cowardly companion, and most likely curious of what had spooked his friend. He pushed through the bushes right as the angel was toppling over from dizziness over blood loss. All she saw was a blur.

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The Sith Angel came to in a small hut, only a few rooms, probably one of those 'tree lairs' she heard many children enjoy playing in. She was lying on her stomach, her cloak and lightsaber gone, with a crude bandage around where the guard's blaster bolt had hit her and apparently broken a few bones. She cursed inwardly. She wouldn't be able to fly in a while, but that wasn't the big issue. Her master would not be happy about her getting shot, whether his message was delivered or not. And when her master wasn't happy, the angel was miserable. At best.

Groaning and trying to push herself up, she was gently eased back down again by a motherly looking woman, the little capital boy at her side. Smiling warmly, even at the angel's glare, she said, "Don't push yourself too hard, little one. You'll heal in time." She seemed as if she was talking to her own daughter, not a winged, 'tattooed' child with no identifiable species, other than perhaps the ultimate generalization: "humanoid".

The Sith Angel scratched at her modified backwards tunic (made because wings often inhibited her from wearing them forwards) uneasily. No one had ever talked to her like that before, like they actually cared about her. Unable to get back up—the woman's hand was still on her back—the angel only glared deeper, replying, "'Pushing myself', as you have put it, makes me stronger. As for time, I have none."

While the boy situated himself safely closer to what the angel assumed was his mother, the woman merely shook off her statement, probably thinking the angel was just another one of those rebellious children, doing whatever they're told not to. She smiled warmly at the angel, acting as if she hadn't even heard the statement. Her voice sounded curious when she asked, "What is your name, child?"

The Angel blinked. "I have none. Names lead to attachments. Why should I be attached to anyone, or anyone to me?" This was pointless. She couldn't prevent a small growl escaping her throat.

The boy seemed curious now. As all young children, this one flung all his questions, coherent and not, rapidly at the angel, who was now groaning inwardly. "You don't have a name? What do people call you? Do you want a name? What do you mean, 'attachments'? Does that mean you don't have any friends? How can you not have friends?" This went on for quite a while, and, needless to say, the angel tried her best to tune him out.

It took all her self-control not to throttle that walking voice box of a child. Holding back another growl, she tried her best to answer all his questions, though why it was relevant, she didn't know. "No, I don't have a name, nor do I want one. I have no friends, so it matters not what others call me. And there are much more important things than friends."

He looked confused, but before he could try the young Sith's patience any further, the woman interrupted, asking politely, "I'm curious…where are you from?"

The angel blinked, bewildered. Though she had indeed thought about it a few times, it had never seemed that important. What did it matter, really? "To tell you the truth, I really don't know. The majority of my past is a mystery to me, and I have no current interest in learning of it. One should not dwell on what is past." She spoke as if the motherly woman were a child.

The woman blinked at her tone of voice. "But one must learn from the past to shape the future." She recomposed herself, "You are quite wise. Deceivingly so."

The angel's eyes narrowed, "As are you." Perhaps this woman indeed had more intellect than a tuber. The child, however, considered the Sith Angel, is still undecided. Speaking of which, the boy was currently staring wide-eyed at the angel as if he had just noticed a swamp beetle nesting on her face. She sighed, rather reluctant to ask this little prattler a question, "What is it?"

The boy seemed rather oblivious. "Why'd you draw on your face?"

In the long run, the angel was a little confused why he hadn't questioned her admittedly unusual appearance earlier. Drawing on my face, hmm? Thought the young Sith, This one's got quite an imagination. Shifting her wings to a more comfortable position and wincing slightly from the strain, she responded, "I was born like this. They're natural markings." The boy reached to trace the black lines of the angel's pale hand, but she was a step ahead of him. She glowered as she drew her hand away, narrowing her vibrant yellow-gold eyes at him (they turned coal black when she called on the Force). He withdrew to his mother's side.

The woman's face softened, "Who were your parents? They may have something to do with why you have those markings."

My parents? The Sith Angel was caught off guard with this. Her master had indeed filled her in on why she wasn't properly raised, as a child should be, for she had questions of the lifestyles of the capital citizens she often spied on. The angel recalled what her master had said, elaborating, "I was told my mother was an exquisite native of Naboo. There is no explanation you two would understand as to why she was impregnated with me. I have no father.
"My master said he was there at my birth. He told me the midwives were perplexed when I was born, my wings encircling me. They were frightened when they moved my wings aside, and my mother was weak, at the brink of death, and they showed me to her. I have heard she was not a superstitious woman, but she thought me an angel. A 'dark-angel', she said. However, she did not seem afraid. After she held me a bit, she rested and never woke up. My master said he left me to the midwives to enroll in a center where children go when they are parentless, as I was, or unwanted.
"After a few years of life ridiculed by the older children in the center, my master came for me. He has taught me almost everything I know." She found herself speaking of Sidious with what seemed like admiration. He was, after all, perhaps the most powerful master of the Force.

The woman nodded when the angel's tale was complete. "I raised little Sinori here alone." She ruffled the boy, Sinori's, dark scruffy hair affectionately.

Sinori grimaced and shook his head away, his cheeks turning pink when he glanced at the Sith Angel. "Ma-a! We got company!"

It was the angel's turn to grimace. Burying her face in the pillow beneath her, she groaned. I need to go. Sitting up and swiftly combing through her raven tresses, the angel turned to the woman, "I shouldn't be here. My master will be angry with me if I don't go soon. Can I have my effects, please?" She tried to be polite, knowing it was unusual for a child to carry weapons such as daggers and throwing blades, among other things. Lightsabers, for example. She ignored the curiosity in Sinori's eyes. She knew he had dozens of questions as to why she was toting a Jedi weapon. He would just have to stay curious.

Sinori's mother looked doubtful. "You're still hurt, and you've only rested for a day or two. I'm sure your…'master'…will understand."

The angel almost laughed at this. 'Understanding' and Sidious were about as compatible as intelligence and the Naboo Army. But something frightened her…she had been out for more than a day! Sidious will surely be infuriated. There was no avoiding it. I did fail, however, she thought. Though I delivered the message, I was seen and, even worse, wounded. I probably have my holo-image on every Wanted scanner in the city by now. Her mood darkened, as did her eyes, and wind whipped through the hut. Sinori looked confused and more scared by the minute, obviously unaware the storm was issuing from the angel. The woman just looked on patiently into her eyes. She merely stared back, mentally stating what she had been trying to say this whole cursed time: She had to go. When she spoke, her voice was bolder, brimming with potentially dangerous power. "My effects, please."

The wind died down as quickly as it came, and Sinori was pried off his mother's skirts to retrieve the pile of various weapons and her cloak. While he was gone, his mother just nodded again. "If you ever need anything, dear, you know where to find us." Dear? No one had ever called her any sort of term of endearment.

It suddenly dawned on her that these people lived in this shack; the angel had always been accustomed to multiple-roomed, high-quality quarters. The woman continued, "My name is Myree Tyotchu, by the way. Come by and play with Sinori, if you want. He has a silly little Gungan friend you may like as well." Sinori came back into the room, gingerly carrying the pile of weapons they had found on her. The angel's cloak was tossed over his shoulder.

The angel hopped down from the bed she had been resting on and, after Sinori dumped them onto the lumpy mattress, sorted through the weapons to be sure all were there. Once everything was buckled, zipped, and snapped into the proper place, the lightsaber belted on last, the Sith Angel threw the cloak over her shoulders and adjusted it comfortably. She looked to Myree, "Thank you for your hospitality." She followed her and Sinori to the door. Be polite, she told herself, so she continued, "It means a lot to me." Though, she continued in her head, all this time wasted healing will go for naught if Master's punishment is half as bad as I think it will be.

Myree opened the door for her and said it was nothing, she was a trained healer, and Sinori caught the angel off guard again when he asked, "See you again sometime?"

The Sith Angel hid her surprise. "Perhaps," she responded, knowing even if for some reason they were to meet again, she would most likely avoid him, watching instead from the shadows, as always. Remembering something she constantly saw the citizens of Naboo do as a parting custom, she raised her hand and waved it back and forth, smiling a bit as she did so. She nodded curtly to Myree, dropping her hand, and exited the doorframe. She forced a smile once more, then turned and darted along the dirt path to the more populated area of Naboo, not bothering to put her hood up.

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Stalking through the endless curving hallways of the Senate building, the now much-older angel (roughly sixteen standard years of age) remembered that she had been severely punished by Sidious. She even still bore a scar on her back from a jolt of her master's lightning. It was a stark contrast from her black markings, and was even lighter than the pale portion of her skin.

She watched the Republic capital of Coruscant descend below her as she rose in an outside elevator, waiting for the chime to indicate she was at the proper level. Until then, she meditated a little, breathing deeply and becoming one with the tides of the Force. It helped calm her nerves until the inevitable ding! arrived, and she strode out into the hallway.

She arrived at a pair of locked double doors and forced them open without a thought. They groaned aside and she stepped through, letting the resisting mechanical doors slide shut behind her. The masked Scarlet Guards, standing at either side of the door, jumped up, instantly on edge, and ignited their electrostaffs. The guard on the right made a successful jab at the angel's torso, but was soon after thrown back into a (formerly) magnificent, colossal vase. The left guard met the same fate when the angel swung her arm to face him, palm out. He uttered a muffled cry before hitting a tapestry-decorated wall.

Cursing under her breath, the angel examined the jagged red lines and the burns that resulted from the lucky hit the guard was able to get in before hitting the vase. It didn't matter that the angel was all too familiar with injuries from electricity. Resisting the immature urge to go over and kick at the guard, she made her way to the inner office where she could sense the Chancellor. She growled to herself as she straightened her burnt tunic over her injured side, using the Force to ease some of the pain.

The Sith Angel then threw open the sliding door, whipping out and activating the glowing, dark maroon blade of her lightsaber. She heard the familiar buzz and hum of the Jedi weapon as she stalked forward, glaring with her darkened eyes at Chancellor Palpatine, as he was called, who merely looked a little concerned.

She realized with a jolt that this man was the same Senator she had seen in Naboo. The same prickling, uneasy feeling in the Force flooded her consciousness. What is this man hiding? Something's different about him…he has quite a bit of power. Thoughts flickered through her mind as to why he effected the Force the way he did. Quickly recomposing herself, she said in a dark, authoritative voice, "Darth Sidious of the Separists commands your capture. Comply and I shall not hurt your Jedi companions," She paused, "Too badly."

The Chancellor didn't seem nearly as alarmed as he probably should be, the angel noticed. Perhaps he was too self-assured for his own good. Or maybe he was just a halfwit. She brushed the thoughts aside, pointed the lit, humming blade at the leader of the Republic and ordered, "Rise."

The Chancellor blinked, his face blank.

"Get up! You dare disobey me?" Using the Force, she reached to grip the Chancellor's mind. Faster than she could comprehend, a thin bolt of blue electricity shot from Palpatine's finger, knocking the now deactivated lightsaber from the angel's hand and sending the silver and black handle across the office. The old man shot out of his seat, his hand clawing into a fist, and a tremendous weight took hold of the angel's mind, pressing down on her consciousness. She screamed and fell to her knees, holding her head in her hands.

Her eyes were squeezed shutagainst the pain, but she heard the fatherly voice say in a mockingly soothing tone, "My dear," then it became a gravelly drawl, horrifically familiar, "That is no way to treat your master." The grip tightened even further on the Sith Angel's mind, making her yelp in agony. She doubled over, her forehead now inches from the floor, her wings stretching their full length, the tips almost to the ceiling.

"M—Master?" She choked out, the pressure on her mind now slowly receding. She kept her aching head bowed as she stiffly rose back to her feet. Disbelief flooded through her. How could he lead such a double life without her knowledge? She berated herself for not knowing all this time.

"It is I." He croaked. He reviewed the progress of the angel's current mission; "You have done well enough…so far. However, the Jedi are coming. This will be your ultimate test. Meanwhile, you are to treat me only as Chancellor Palpatine, do you understand?"

The angel responded solemnly, numb from the pain, "Yes, Master."

Sidious, or Palpatine, the angel now wasn't sure who to think of him as, nodded his approval, but then frowned. "You were just injured fighting my guards. How do I know you're ready to battle two Jedi?"

Two? Calling her lightsaber back to her, she grimaced. "I was improperly off-guard. It was a stupid mistake; it won't happen again."

"It had better not." She heard the menace in his voice. He never felt any sort of hesitation to punish her when he felt discipline was required.

"I am ready, Master." I have to, she thought. She had been training too hard for too many years to fail now.

Sidious sat back down behind his desk, and the fatherly Chancellor re-emerged. "What do you want with me?" he asked in a worried voice. A tone the angel never thought she'd ever hear from her master.

"Chancellor?" The Sith Angel spun at the concerned young man's voice emitting from outside the door.

Ooh...cliffie. Well, I hope that's enough to hold you guys over for now! I don't know when I'll update again...;)

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--Titan