I. Etro's Ultimatum

Valhalla. A realm without time, a realm beyond death – the home of the divine goddess Etro. A realm where there are few rules, but foremost: the weak answer to the strong. A realm marred by battle – the clashing of swords by two locked in mortal combat, steel against steel and flashes of violet and black and pink and white, a realm where destruction was the norm. Day in, day out – if days could truly be called days, that was. They rarely tired, rarely parted, but when blows were exchanged and blood was spilled, they were with intent to kill.

His sword was ripped out of his hands with one last sweep of Odin's blade before the eidolon was dismissed in a flurry of petals – and his adversary came rushing out of them. The instant the blade audibly stuck into the ground below, she'd connected her foot with his gut and he was sent over the edge of the building they were standing on and landed with a sickening thud onto the concrete below, eyes blank and jaw slack and he drew in a shuddering breath before he stilled entirely. She leapt down and landed with all the grace of a cat, footsteps silent as she approached his body. Blood began pooling on the ground below his head and she winced when she walked around to get a better view of the injury – and immediately wished she hadn't. It was bad enough that he was, at least temporarily, dead (she found herself unable to resist the temptation to verify it; two fingers against his neck verified that indeed, at the very least his heart had stopped beating). She averted her eyes, instead focusing her gaze on the light red glow that slowly built in his chest and spread slowly outward, beginning to pull his body back together.

She stood over him with her sword and shield at the ready. Every muscle in her body was coiled in anticipation of the moment he would blink the glaze of death out of his eyes and he would be upon her again, bearing down on her with that massive sword of his or chasing her down on wings of night. It was an inevitable part of their battles – not that she would complain. She would off him as many times as it took, and thus far she'd kept count and note of each cause of death: both actual deaths (as in, after he didn't just get up, she verified that he had no pulse) stemmed from the same method she'd used this time around. By now they were on far more equal footing than when they first faced each other on the battlefield; for all the raw power Caius possessed, Lightning made up for the difference with skill. Her blade found gaps in his armor and she made use of her superior maneuverability to duck out of the way of broad, powerful swings of his sword that required precious seconds of recovery. Of course, Caius was still a force to be reckoned with, and Lightning was slowly growing tired of their encounters, but at least the playing field was pretty level.

But how could you win against an opponent you couldn't kill? Destroy the Heart of Chaos and it was game over. But he couldn't die permanently otherwise. Always, the glaze of death over his eyes would be temporary, and no matter how badly wounded, the Heart of Chaos would continue quietly working. It would pull him together enough to drag him back from oblivion again and again without end. Always, even after his true heart stopped beating and his chest stilled, he would get back up and be completely fine. Completely rejuvenated too, usually, presumably unless she damaged his body further after death – but she certainly didn't fancy herself a butcher. Caius may have slowly lost his grip on his humanity over the centuries, but he'd had no fewer than fourteen hundred years. Lightning was twenty-one – at least from her standpoint. Time stilled for her the instant she set foot in Valhalla, but that did little to change the fact that there was no way she was as experienced as he was – but in exchange, she was perhaps more… Adaptable. Not as set in her ways. She'd actually managed to land killing blows, although they obviously didn't do much to turn the tide of their battles.

Sometime toward the beginning of all this, she'd wondered how many times he'd died before Valhalla. His armor was eerily clean of any marks of battle, but over time it seemed that they simply disappear through some means or another if the number of times she'd pierced it with her own blade only for it to be fine later was any indication. She wondered if the pain of continued death and resurrection, at some point, would be enough to make Caius give in and give up – but she already had a faint idea how their war would end and all signs currently pointed to 'no'.

She avoided meeting his dead eyes now only because the damage done to his head upon impact made her a bit squeamish, instead settling her gaze on the glowing Heart of Chaos in his chest, and when he sucked in a breath and stirred before starting to stand, she was ready, blade levelled at his throat as he rose.

"That's three. Ready to quit, Ballad?"

He only smirked at her, righting himself gradually and propping himself up on his sword while he made sure everything was in proper order. How polite his adversary was to allow him time to take care of such (honestly sort of petty) formalities. The pool of blood he'd been laying in dyed the hair at the back of his head and some of the tails of his headband red and he could feel it, sticky and starting to cool, and it was irritating to an extent but no harm no foul. "You know the answer to that question, warrior goddess." Perhaps before, he would have offered a serious answer, but their banter had long-since become a mainstay of their conflicts, so why not taunt her a little? He knew the inevitable outcome of their battles anyway – even if she sought to defy her fate.

He swung first, and then it was back to the old routine. They battled in the streets and upon rooftops; Lightning didn't manage to push Caius back and Caius didn't manage to push Lightning back and gain ground toward the temple. Their blades clashed and locked and were it not for the inherent violence in their movements, maybe they could have been dancing – always they were light on their feet and always they kept in a steady rhythm interrupted only by Caius's occasional shifts into Chaos Bahamut, but those stints were put to rest soon enough when Lightning called upon Odin or the shining white Bahamut that she'd felled to earn the right to enter Etro's temple in the first place. However, in most cases it was simply easier for them to leave the eidolons out of it; this battle was theirs and theirs alone and even if Chaos Bahamut was more or less just an extension of Caius to begin with, such a bulky form did not lend itself well to fighting on ground level in the streets of the city or on the tops of some of the lower-standing buildings. It just made it harder to get to Lightning in the first place, even if his attacks were decidedly more powerful and harder to block.

By the time the clock struck ten and the skies of Valhalla lit up – actually lit up! – the two of them were covered in blood (their own, each other's) and were about to trade the deciding blow of round two.

The skies of the Unseen Realm tended to follow cycles not dissimilar to the mortal world's day and night, although the times at which they changed were rather arbitrary and lacked a smooth transition here, or if it had one, they were so caught up in their battles that they rarely noticed it. Sometimes, it rarely even mattered, given the sky seemed perpetually on the verge of rain. One moment, it would simply be dark, and the warriors would usually retreat – the next, daybreak was upon them and they would clash.

Their swords locked and a single white feather fell between them, lingering on the side of Caius's greatsword before slipping away and dissolving. Then another, and Lightning risked a glance up to the sunless sky, which nonetheless engulfed the entire field of her vision in white.

Then: briefly, an image of a doorway carved into a mountain, briefly an image of a young girl, enveloped in black mist. Other images that, when isolated, made little sense; nothing cohesive, not like the vision of Ragnarok she'd seen when she and the others had been branded by Anima what felt like an eternity ago now. Neither of them made a sound, but Caius's lips formed the name 'Yeul', his eyebrows furrowed as if in concentration even as Etro's champion felt his sword fall away from hers and heard the tip of the blade as it hit the ground and Lightning's lips parted in shock as the images sped along, grainy and fuzzy and she knew what this vision meant, vaguely but not definitely as she felt a symbol burning itself into her skin where her Pulse brand had once been and the soft brush of a rain of feathers against her exposed skin before the whole world finally, suddenly, shrank and went dark.


'If this is truly what you wish… Then I will become your sword as well.'


The sun warmed his skin and the wind toyed with his hair as it flowed over him. The air tasted – and smelled – of the sea, and the sound of the waves against shore was almost frighteningly close. It was nice, though, in a way – and his breath escaped him with a contented sigh as his eyes flickered open a little. He didn't process much of anything at first, thinking it an illusion of some sort: the blue sky above, the warm stone beneath, the figure he couldn't bring into full focus thanks to the sun being more or less directly overhead. He let his head fall to the side before the realization hit him – this was real. The world was solid, and it wasn't about to fall away and return him to Valhalla any time soon.

Confusion struck him first, then panic as he shot upright and reached for his sword – or started to, because the figure beside him pressed their hands to his shoulders and kept him from moving around too much in those first few moments as the world snapped into abrupt focus and he gathered his bearings. His sword was nowhere to be seen, and he really was lying on the shore, although it was more sheer rock than soft sand as it met the water, and he had a distinct feeling of being sore all over. He let himself be forced back down at that, with a huff, letting his eyes adjust so that he could identify whoever had decided to accompany him.

They had pink hair not dissimilar to Lightning's, with the same intense eyes – and it was only after a few moments that he realized it was Lightning; he almost didn't recognize her without the armor (her clothes were strange… Or at least, they struck him as strange before he realized that they were the same clothes she'd worn in the Yeul of this era's vision of her being attacked by the chaos), without the backdrop of Valhalla behind her, without her literally and figuratively at his throat (though granted, only because he'd attacked her first). His lips pulled back in a snarl and he nearly lunged for her when Lightning spoke, surprisingly gently compared to the manner of speech he was used to, but still very much firm: "I was starting to wonder when you'd wake up."

Words failed him for a moment before he managed to cut right to the heart of the matter: "Where am I?" Nowhere near where he needed to be, by the looks of things. The question was honestly sort of pointless; he'd been here before with a Yeul, and before she could answer he demanded instead, "How did I get here?" He couldn't have kept the irritation (and perhaps, a bit of distress) out of his voice if he tried.

Lightning brought one hand up to her chest, then released his shoulders as she stood. Caius followed suit, examining the palms of his hands briefly and scowling when they came away from the ground sandy. Nowhere was safe from its grainy wrath, it seemed, as long as they were within a mile or two of an actual beach.

"Etro brought us here, if this and—" she gestured to the ground and Caius's eyes followed, revealing a message etched faintly into the stone, all sharp lines and arrows— "this is any indication."

He looked over the symbols over and over, anger flashing in his eyes although he remained quiet. She had to be joking. 'She', of course, referring to both Lightning and Etro. Did he look like some sort of cosmic plaything? He brought his left hand up to the back of his neck and his fingers came into contact with his armor, of course, but he could feel some sort of symbol almost burning into his skin, and he realized that she wasn't joking. His eyes widened briefly, ever so briefly, when he realized what it was. The smooth curves formed the same emblem he'd seen flash in Yeul's eyes during her visions, and—"I'm a l'Cie." He didn't even bother phrasing it as a question. Then the sky, and those images… But that was impossible.

(Only the ache in all of his joints and behind his eyes that strangely intensified the hotter the anger burned at the back of his throat kept him from lashing out, kept him from grabbing hold of her neck and putting and end to this right here.)

"We are l'Cie," she corrected (and confirmed). Judging from the look in her eyes, there was more to it than that, but whatever personal issues she had about the matter were of no interest to him. At that, Caius scowled. And Lightning started away, though after a few steps she came to a halt. "I don't expect you to cooperate. But considering your end goal, I'm guessing you're not prepared to just turn Cie'th." She huffed a bit, as if the prospect itself were a joke – but of course, Lightning knew better.

He could have laughed at those words. As if he would in the first place; Etro was too merciful to curse any human with such a fate. The goddess was soft, and in the end deserving only of pity; she hadn't even the strength or the experience to give them their Focus in a relatively cohesive manner, instead just comprised of brief flashes of images of unfamiliar (rather, vaguely familiar, but with marked differences from what he could recall) locations and of Yeul – then stuck the emblem of her gate on their bodies and called it done.

"You're her champion; you can figure it out." He had more pressing concerns – the most pressing of which was certainly either finding a shortcut to Valhalla (he'd waited centuries, would he really be condemned to wait centuries more?!) or finding the Yeul of this era, assuming Etro was smart enough to make sure only one version of him existed at a time. Given that she seemed to have the strength to brand them and send them back to 3AF, he figured she probably made an effort. He rolled his shoulders back in an effort to get some of the tension wound up in his body to release, to no avail, but as Lightning continued he managed to get his neck to give a satisfying pop, and then the same for several of his knuckles.

"…We can figure it out. Etro gave this Focus to both of us." The words sounded like they were physically painful to admit, almost, but they were firm nonetheless. She brought one hand up and gestured for him to follow her. It took the better part of his willpower not to spit at her.

He was sure he could survive well enough while he found wherever she'd been left, even unarmed. It wasn't like he hadn't braved the wilderness of Gran Pulse alone before. It wasn't like he'd done exactly that for the past fourteen centuries of his life, actually, albeit as Cocoon's population spread out over the planet's vast plains and they built up their cities and their towns, sometimes it became difficult to qualify it as pure wilderness. Alright, so maybe they occasionally indulged in modern comforts, but only those that they could partake in without falling under the eye of actual people.

But when Lightning turned and looked him in the eye, hand dropped and poised to draw her gunblade if the need arose, he couldn't help but feel something inside him will him to stay, not to strike out on his own. It wasn't pleasant. It was more like a knife through his eye, actually. She looked deadly serious, even more so than in Valhalla, to the point where now she looked legitimately angry; and while Caius was spectacularly good at ignoring his better angels and every passing moment without Yeul at his side meant she was in danger (well…), there was just something about the look in her eyes (and the tone of the voice in the back of his head that willed him to follow) that told him that it would be costly and painful if he were to refuse her 'invitation'.

He didn't give her the satisfaction of voicing his submission, instead silently following and casting his gaze into the wild beyond just over the cliffs as they started off south. Every part of his body still felt stiff and awful, and it didn't get any better as they walked. Not a single word passed between them and Lightning's hand never strayed far from her blade; the only thing missing were shackles, and then he would have been a real prisoner. The sun beating down on his back got old quickly – perhaps leather and metal weren't the best things to wear to the shore – but at least the heat seemed effective at keeping the monsters at bay and forcing his body to relax a little. As stone subsided to sand, Lightning came to a halt, finally drawing her blade and pointing it at Caius's throat. He took a half-step back and acknowledged her with a soft grunt before she said, "I believe Etro sent Serah and Noel back to this era as well. Leave them be, don't speak unless spoken to, and stay close to me and we won't have an issue."

"You are not my keeper," he growled, although he did not disagree to her terms.

She ignored his words as she lowered her weapon, though it remained firmly gripped in her hand. There wasn't really anything besides the knowledge that she'd likely chase him down and the exhaustion that permeated his body to keep him from starting off in the opposite direction. "Glad to know we're on the same page," she said, stepping onto the beach and, in short order, into the town once she cleared a wire fence.

He hesitated, but followed suit, trailing a ways behind her as she climbed a set of stairs to a large, rather nice house. Caius stayed behind, letting his gaze scan the horizon. There was little bit clear blue water as far as the eye could see, with other landmasses only appearing on the very edge of the horizon. He heard Lightning call his name from inside after a bit and he reluctantly climbed the stairs and found himself in the company of more people focused on him specifically than he'd encountered since… Since long before he departed from Valhalla, when there were still people around in the Dying World seven hundred years or so in the future. His lips parted as he looked this rather peculiar (was that the word? There were probably more accurate ones to describe them, but…) motley of characters over, before he recalled Lightning's instruction not to speak unless spoken to. Simple enough; he didn't have anything particularly nice to say anyway.

Including Lightning, there were eight of them in total (did they all share this house?), and most of them didn't seem sure what to make of him while Serah, the blond man who needed a shave to her left who had her hand clasped in his, and Noel immediately regarded him with wary (bordering on hostile, even, in the case of the former two) looks.

That suited him just fine, of course. Caius hadn't expected a warm welcome. He regarded the group coldly while Lightning introduced them – first him, to the group, by full name, and then the group to him. The dark-haired woman Lebreau; the blond kid with the goggles (well, he looked enough like a kid, with his round face, that Caius kind of just assumed he was a kid) Maqui; the heavy-set dark-skinned man Gadot; the blue-haired young man Yuj; and their so-called fearless leader Snow – whom he vaguely recognized from one of Yeul's visions. None of them struck him as particularly impressive right off the bat and he was sure that he'd forget them in due time, but he gave them a slight nod of acknowledgement anyway. Lightning filled them in on some details – not many, but enough to turn the room against him.

From there, the conversation continued on in a direction that honestly he just tuned out and eventually Lightning excused herself to the bathroom for a shower; at that point, Caius slipped out onto the deck and took a seat against the wall just out of sight. Thankfully at this time of day some shade was provided – he couldn't think of a single saving grace of the shore at this point. Relaxing, yes, but only in half-remembered dreams and only when he didn't have anything better to be doing (saving Yeul, for example!); the sand got everywhere, the sun was too hot, and the air was far too salty for his liking. Alright, maybe there was one saving grace – it wasn't all that humid at the moment.

He huffed to himself quietly and pushed his headband up a little. Just bolting, or drawing out his eidolith so that he could wreak some havoc and make his escape had crossed his mind a few times, but every time something inside him (stabbed him in the eye and) told him no. He was certain that Etro must have done something to compromise his will, but he'd find a way to circumvent that check eventually, for Yeul's sake. Perhaps even, it was wiser to go with the flow for a bit, see what Lightning wanted to do about her Focus (she was surely competent enough).

"Caius."

He looked up at Noel, who stood over him with his arms crossed over his chest. For a long few moments, they just stared each other down, Caius's irritation slowly mounting before he looked away when Noel seemed to be suddenly incapable of speech for several long moments. And when he did open his mouth to speak, Caius merely cut him off – "My end goal hasn't changed."

And that seemed to answer that. "It still won't make her happy, you know."

"As long as she lives, that's ultimately inconsequential. Even now that you know what you do, you continue to insist against her salvation?" Caius pressed his lips together. If Yeul lived, then there was plenty of time to make her happy after the fact. He shrugged after a moment, and simultaneously changed the subject and closed the conversation. "Regardless. I've a feeling I'll be here a while."

Had the words passed a friend's lips, perhaps Noel would have smiled at that – but knowing of Caius's plans and wishes, he wasn't so sure that his continued presence was much to celebrate about. At least Lightning proved to be a worthy opponent to him; she'd managed to keep Noel safe long enough to send him back to Serah, after all, and who knew how long after that until they'd wound up here. "Yeah… right," he managed, rocking back on his heels a bit. His lips parted to continue, but with the way Caius's eyes seemed to threaten to sear hole through his chest, he figured it could wait for another time and turned to return to the group inside the house.


The warm water on her shoulders felt like nothing short of heaven. While it was a luxury that she didn't necessarily need – it seemed that, along with being stripped of her armor and placed back in her old Guardian Corps uniform, Etro had managed to strip her of much of the filth of Valhalla before plunking her and Caius back in 3AF, and she assumed that much the same was true of him – it certainly did wonders to relax, and buy her some valuable time. More than once, she found herself pausing to place a hand over her brand, etched into her skin in the shape of Etro's Gate rather than the intricate network of lines and arrows that she bore as a Pulse l'Cie three years (from a chronological standpoint) prior. And also more than once, she found her hand coming to rest over her right breast as she considered the true extent of what Etro had done, what this meant.

The sooner their Focus was complete, the sooner everyone would be safe from Caius and the sooner things could just be… Normal. With the major cracks in the timeline patched up thanks to Serah and Noel's efforts, the goddess didn't have to try as hard to keep the chaos in check and could spend some energy building Her strength back up, although the thought of her ever attaining Her former glory was laughable at best. But She did this for humanity's sake, not for Her own selfish desires. Etro was truly deserving of sympathy from that standpoint, and She certainly had Lightning's gratitude for being so… merciful. Having proven herself in Valhalla, when this final task was complete, Lightning could have her life back, if only for a little while.

But a little while was more than she could begin to ask for.

A sigh escaped her lips and she let her head fall forward a bit. Already she could tell that it would likely be easier said than done; getting Caius to cooperate was a challenge in of itself. But at least if all else failed, Etro had a bit of insurance in the case of her failure, although it was at a heavy cost to Lightning herself. But if that was what it took to atone for her sins once and for all, then so be it.

But things could be taken one step at a time. With Snow and Serah living here (and only one free bedroom; that wouldn't do) and the NORA gang treating the house as their little hangout and second home, she needed somewhere to stay. What else? More clothes, her belongings. She was sure that they had salvaged some things from Cocoon, although Eden had apparently crashed on Bodhum after the final battle. A plan of action was also in order, she figured, and she had a vague idea of how she wanted to approach this, but no backup plan if she was forced to reveal more than she was planning on at the moment.

So the final tally: A place to stay, her belongings, a plan. Only the latter was a real necessity, which was a blessing seeing as it was the only really difficult one to come by, at least when she was dealing with a man who would stop at nothing to save one girl.

She had her work cut out for her.


A/N: Man, I haven't used this account in goddamn forever. Hi there. I've been working on this fic for the past month and just finished writing chapter 20 so I'm posting it because I'm way too hype. :^) This fic is best viewed on Tumblr or AO3 due to formatting; both are linked on my profile. But yeah, hey there, appreciate ya reading, appreciate feedback more even if there ain't a lot I can do about some things given I have the first like 72k written already.