Archive: Master_Apprentice, anyone else ask and you shall
receive
Category: Point of View
Rating: G
Warnings: No sex, Q/O implied, death of Qui-Gon, not betad
Spoilers: Set during TPM
Summary: Darth Maul's thoughts during TPM.
Feedback: Yes, please, but to the author.
Who was I before this dark spectre? Did I have a home, family?
My Master says I was his from the very beginning, but I dream.
Ah, I have my dreams....so dark, distant.
Could I have been a child once, fair of face, soft of tongue? A
mother who cared, a father who was proud? In my mind's eye I
see such things but never question my Master aloud. I see a
home, twin Moons, a soft, green place with no care. There was a
time, I truly believe, when I had no worries, no hate. A time
of dullness.
Now I live to hate. I live for revenge.
The Jedi. They have each other, these fools. The young one--
The Padawan. Such worship in his eyes. I've seen it, the Master
has told me of this Qui-Gon that is the younger's master. That
they disobeyed. That they were punished. Qui-Gon--this one. Why
is it when I see his face, when I hear his name, such anger and
strength rise in me?
Why do I hate the Jedi so? Why does the hate rise in me like a
flood of hot passion, filling me, satisfying me?
I shall strike him down and see him dead. Then the
younger--this Obi-Wan. Another who is a fool, who loves this
Qui-Gon. Who breaks the Jedi rules with this love. Who will pay
for my hate with his blood.
My Master calls. I go.
The desert planet is a hot place, a place of waste and much
death. Misery pours from this place--and I like it. I sense the
Jedi, I search as one would for it's prey. I stand in the heat
of the twin suns and feel the burning sand through the leather
of my boots. It's hot here, a sensation that I take pleasure
in.
Why do I like such a place? Perhaps I've been here before, or
on a planet like it. Hot, the sweat pouring off my body. Yes, I
like this. It's good, such a wasteland. Such misery.
Then, things happen. Quickly. I dive down upon the Jedi as I
would any prey, from the sky, from those twin suns.
He was old, that Qui-Gon. Weak. I saw the surprise in his eyes,
took pleasure in knowing that I had closed myself to him til
that very last moment. He was weak--the sun was an enemy to
him. I could smell the sweat, see him labor for a breath as he
fought me. Pleasure fills me as we fight and anger as he is
torn from me.
I watch the silver ship lance towards the sky and howl. They
will not evade me for long.
I must not fail this time. This planet, this Naboo. Such a
place fills me with revulsion. These primitives and their
pleasures. They live in such wealth and disgust. All fat, all
weak. My Master values such things but he is not weak. He knows
to use wealth to gain power. Is not power what we both live
for?
The Jedi...I see them. Both bring their sabers to the ready and
I feel such a rush of pleasure as I lead them to their death.
The young one is fighting for all he's worth and this Qui-Gon.
... I must separate them, take the older one and see him die,
then deal with the boy.
The final dance of fates. The life leaving the older one's eyes
as I thrust my saber through his body. The younger one,
screaming, that weak emotional tie causing the anger to rise in
him. Oh yes, my young friend, feel the anger, let your nostrils
flare with the hate of me. Come to me, my young friend. I can
do all sorts of delightful things to you.
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