A/N: The idea for this story was inspired by Serafina's Smallville fiction Corner of the World. If you like Smallville slash fanfiction, I highly suggest you check out the series at http://www.piekric. Star Wars is not mine.

Chapter 1 / Prologue

"Mama!" His tearful scream pitched through the busy market square, small hands outstretched and grasping at the dry heated air, reaching.

In shackles beside the auctioning block a dark haired woman wept. "My baby, oh, my sweetheart, no…" Her handlers were brute and intolerant of her sorrow and one of the pair of burly men slapped her across the face to shut her up. The blow caused her to stumble and fall, landing on her back and thus on her hands, the binders cutting into the soft flesh of her wrists.

"Ma-MA!" The little voice cried out again, broken with distress as he was carried off by another handler and placed in the arms of a dour-faced man, his expression one of distaste.

The new owner was tall and thin, sleek with a beaked nose and purple robes that bespoke of wealth. He held the crying three year old at arms length from him, looked the little one up and down. Then he leaned in towards the shorter, fatter man beside him.

"He needs cleaning up, but I think he'll grow into what we need."

"We need a man, Tores. What good is a boy?"

"You know that they're so much cheaper at this age. Think of it this way- gettin' him this young, we can break 'im easier."

The stubby man just snorted in response and approached the former owner.

"Here is his transmitter" the hovering Toydarian spoke in Huttese. He handed the man a small box-shaped device. "Be careful- he will be a feisty one without his mother, eh?"

The stout man sneered, "Leave his handling to us. We have ways of milking the obedience from 'em."

Rejoining his colleague, the two men walked off towards their speeder, the Tores man holding the boy's hand and dragging him along through the sand behind him.

Meanwhile the young woman lay in the dust and continued to weep. "Oh my boy, my Ani…"

As the Toydarian watched, his face bore a look of something almost like remorse. He was unusually gentle when he flew down and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Come, Shmi", he spoke in low tones, "There is work to do."

One of the handlers pulled her roughly to her feet. She swayed a bit; her face was puffy and her eyes red. With solemn steps she followed her owner away from the market, muttering.

"My Ani…"