Work Text:
The child would have been easier to kill.
His muscles burned, exhaustion soaked through his tunics in the hot gusts of air spewing from the reactor shaft.
Qui-Gon was a strong fighter, and the element of surprise only went so far.
Twelve years kept Obi-Wan fighting. Twelve years of deference, obedience, patience, only to be discarded like a placeholder, like trash.
The child was nothing. A desert rat, a bug to be squashed.
Not worth a fraction of the knowledge that would die with his Master.
And yet the moment he’d laid eyes on Anakin, the Force had screamed.
Mine!

Wibzen Wed 21 Dec 2022 11:46AM UTC
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obimanletkenobi Wed 21 Dec 2022 12:10PM UTC
Last Edited Wed 21 Dec 2022 12:14PM UTC
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Wibzen Wed 21 Dec 2022 01:11PM UTC
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obimanletkenobi Wed 21 Dec 2022 04:13PM UTC
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how_long_must_we_live Wed 21 Dec 2022 12:26PM UTC
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obimanletkenobi Wed 21 Dec 2022 03:57PM UTC
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