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Okay, today is not the finale of Star Wars week yet, but I have something hopefully as awesome planned for the true finale. Hopefully you like the finale, but apparently I’d need either a YouTube account or to buy a VideoPress upgrade to do a cover of the song that I wrote for it… which just sucks, since I can’t afford the upgrade and I don’t know what I’d do with a YouTube account. But just imagine me singing it when it’s published. I sound like a cross between Heather Dale, Loreena McKennit, and an opera singer.

In other news, I have been listening to way too many PianoGuys songs, I should really just buy the albums and have done with it. The sad thing is, they deleted their cover of “O Fortuna” which is one of my absolute favorite songs EVER!!! But I did find these gems: their instrumental and vocal accompanied versions of “Rolling in the Deep.” Now, I’m probably not going to be very popular with all these pop fans out there after this, but it has to be said. I am not a big fan of Adele, but this version of the song is awesome.

Oh, and Professor V.J. Duke: I have your meme right here. Take it and reblog it or mess with it as you will. ;-P

There should be a picture here, but there's not. Hm.

Great advice, Boromir. 😛

Now, about this post. This is not my favorite of my song-fics, but I hope it’s satisfactory. And the song just fits Obi-Wan so well! I wanted to scream and cry and wail on the floor the first time I heard it… *cough*

Anyway, it’s defiant, and so great. The song is “Hero,” by Heather Dale. (I’m a massive fan of her work, notice much? ;-P) Just a warning, though: This song and song fic are rather violent, at least in the emotions they portray.

Enjoy!

Hero
“Master Kenobi. Only you could be so bold.” the Senator snapped. Obi-Wan Kenobi’s only response was a slight twitch at the corners of his mouth. “I could have you arrested!” Madia Kagine exclaimed. “Spy!”
The former Jedi Master bowed slightly, his face inscrutable. In fact, if it hadn’t been for that inscrutability, Madia thought he might have looked… young. His eyes had the vaguely hollow, too-old look of one who had to grow up too fast, out of necessity; it was familiar to Madia, very familiar. After all, she saw it in the mirror every day of her life.
You think if you set the price they’ll turn me in
You think that when I’m up upon the pike you’ll win
They’ll say that I was fighting
For the spirit of the law
What will they say about you
When I’m gone
Obi-Wan slid on the unfamiliar shirt. It was soft—too soft. Thick leather jacket over it. Belt worn high on the waist; his years as a Jedi had made it uncomfortable to wear it any lower. A tiny detail, but perhaps telling to the right eyes.
But no one would notice.
After all, the Jedi were dead, and lest he by some accident ran into a Sith, no one else would attach any meaning to the way he wore the belt.
Obi-Wan slid the blaster into its holster, looked at himself in the mirror, and sighed. The perfect picture of an outlaw. But at least he had a cause—clearer than that of the Clone Wars, more centered. He was not fighting for a dead cause, but one that was living, one whose spark he could coax back into brilliant flame.
Palpatine had made a mistake in ordering his death, rather than trying to kill him himself.
Kenobis, accurately to the legend, inspired loyalty. Their followers would not willingly sell them out.
And they did not die easy.
You murdered and you stole; you mocked the hope I gave
Though I’d prefer a happy end, no man can cheat the grave
I know what they’ll remember
In the words of every song
What will they say about you
When I’m gone
“Is everything ready?” Obi-Wan asked, walking out to where Annika looked at him, with hero-worship in her eyes. He had rescued her from the Service Corps after Palpatine’s coup, and now she was his second in command and Padawan learner. Sometimes, it hurt just how much she was like Anakin. Even her name.
“Yes,” she said, watching him, her jade-colored eyes questioning.
“Then we’ll go.” he said. He did not need to give them a speech to gain their loyalty. It was a hereditary gift.
Madia stared blankly at the vignette before her. Obi-Wan could tell already that she wanted to die. It didn’t bode well—for her, at least.
Across the hangar, Padme gazed at him. She looked right through him, just as she always had; it was vaguely unsettling, and heartbreaking. It had always been. He wondered how he had ever forgotten it; the shadow of tragedy in the young queen’s eyes.
They’ll say
We stared into the wind that tore away our breath
We left behind a message that can not be claimed by death
A hero lives forever
For the ones that carry on
What will they say about you
When I’m gone
He would lead them for her sake, for her children, for Anakin. Anakin needed him more than ever, even on the other side. They would never truly be enemies. One can hate oneself, but not one’s spirit-kin. If anyone, the enemy was Palpatine. Palpatine, who had stolen their good name and their light, murdering them at last, leaving them with nothing. Palpatine, who had stolen his brother from his side. Obi-Wan had screamed his heart out to the wind too many nights in the darkness where no one could hear him. Perhaps there was peace somewhere in the galaxy. Perhaps he would help to restore it. But within him the Code was broken. There was no peace for him. There was pain.
Obi-Wan would not submit. He would fight to the death, if need be, and become a martyr or a traitor, depending on who told the story. He didn’t care any more than he ever had about the name he bore, the reputation that went along with it. But he would do his best, all the same.
They needed a hero, in these dark times.
The least he could do for all these other brave souls fighting the shadow would be to be one.

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