AN: Hey guys, this is my first fic and I hope you enjoy! This is largely canon, but will eventually diverge from the films/books and will include scenes and events that did not take place in Rogue One. I hope to update semi-regularly, but I'm in uni so it really depends on my schedule. Of course I own none of the characters, and remain in debt to those who do.

This fic is rated M for future chapters

Prologue

He was six when his battle began.

Six when the Festian civil war ripped his family apart. Six when streets jam-packed with people were blown to pieces by proton bombs strategically placed to wreak as much havoc as possible. Whether the protean Empire or Alliance ignited the first bomb, he never knew. His father stood with the rebellion, and so, Cassian decided, would he.

Life as an orphan in a pre-war galaxy was less than idyllic. Even with the Andor name, Cassian was shown little affection from the rebels that took him in. He found it difficult to fault them for this when people were dying left and right and the Empire advanced further and further into the most far-flung corners of space. Instead of malingering on his bad fortune, Cassian learned to pour himself into the work being done, finding gratification in his advancement through the rebel's ranks.

Twenty years later, his rank as captain somewhat quelled the numbing sensation he felt as he realized that his zealous dedication to the rebellion had left him isolated. Friendship is a fickle thing when everyone you know stands a decent chance of being dead tomorrow. He supposed K-2SO could be considered a friend if one was feeling generous, but the rewired bot never seemed to fill the hole that Cassian felt growing.

It was only when, on the desolate planet of Wobani, a five-foot spitfire of a girl was knocked on her ass by K-2, that Cassian felt a flicker of emotion.

She was six when she was forced to turn her back on her father.

Six when she sprinted through the treacherous landscape of Lah'mu to reach the safe room. Six when Saw Gerrara's weathered face appeared through the hatch and promised her safety. Jyn might not have been a soldier when Gerrara found her, but she sure as hell was one when he left her, ten long years later. Spurned by the only person she knew, Jyn roamed the galaxy under many names, turning her back on the insurgency she once fought for.

The Empire was no friend to her, presumably having killed both of her parents after Jyn fled. She existed in an uneasy truce with the Alliance, neither disapproving of their cause nor driven to fight for it. Survival was the end for which to justify the means for Jyn, and she often needed to steal and fight just to get by. Six years after Gerrara left her alone on Onderon, she found herself in an Imperial work camp on Wobani, where she was biding her time until the goddamn Alliance busted through the transport shuttle's door.

Mere seconds later, after a heart-filled escape attempt, Jyn was flat on her back in the dust. Heaving for breath with the sound of a pompous droid in her ear, Jyn looked up into the smug face of an Alliance fighter and felt something she hadn't for years: rage.