Illyria



It was a strange new world. You could walk freely, feet unfettered by fear and grief. No more would destruction and vengeance, long since paid, descend upon them. They were free at long last. Free to build and be and become again.

It was hard to be free. Yuna traced a hand along the rough stone carving in the depths of the temple. Valefor was gone. She didn't feel the pulse of power against her hand, couldn't feel the wind whistle around her as she once had. The Aeon's were gone, and she was the one that killed them. She didn't feel as guilty as she thought she would, though. When it was so clear that that was what they wanted. But the world still felt strange without them.

Rikku didn't like that Yuna still came down here sometimes. Wakka, she thought, understood. They'd believed so deeply in the teachings of Yevon. And only they really knew how deeply that faith was betrayed. But the temple, with it's cool stones and lush tapestries still felt more like home than any place in Spira.

"Goodbye, friend," she whispered to the empty rock. Then she traced her way backwards through the puzzles, taking her time and enjoying the electric feel of the spheres in her hand as she clicked them into place along the walls.

She wondered what Sir Auron would think of her now. After all, he continued to fight even after death. For her, for Tidus, for their world. Yuna found her way to a small antechamber, a resting place for pilgrims.

She slept so much these days. It wasn't that she was tired, though that was what everyone believed. She wasn't giving in to grief and sadness, though she sometimes thought so in the back of her mind. Other guardians, and some of the warriors told her of phantom pains left behind by a missing limb. The mind couldn't let go of what it thought it should have.

Was it so odd then that she felt the phantom pains of the world she left behind?

Yuna sank into the cushions. She never thought she would live to see this world. She was supposed to die, summoning the final Aeon. Only with Tidus, walking through grassy plains did she let herself daydream 'what ifs.'

He would be star player for the Aurochs. And the Aurochs would become the best team in all of Spira. And Wakka would be pretend to be annoyed that she cheered even louder now that Tidus was on the team. And she would be nothing more than a simple priestess of Yevon. Maybe a healer. Certainly not a summoner.

They would have a tent. Or maybe a small house Tidus would build himself out of smooth gray driftwood. And children. She dreamed of a small hand closing around her fingers.

But she knew she could never really have done it. Though Yuna might...just might have been able to ignore the duty in her veins, she knew that Sin would come and wash away her driftwood dreams, leave her only with broken vows. In Macalania she gave in to her duty and her love.

And now her daydreams wouldn't do her any good. There was no one to share them with. And there never was. Even though she could feel his arms around her, and still taste his kisses. He was a dream.

Everything felt like a dream. A world without Yevon, Aeons, or Tidus. Was this reality? And what should she do in this reality? The world had outgrown her.

So she curled into the cushions and closed her eyes. If her old world was but a dream. If Tidus was but a dream. Let her sleep and return to them.




Author's Notes:

1. Brain: Here. FFX angstiness. But not enough for a real story.
Me: WTF!?

2. Title comes from Shakespeare, far too good for this story. Where Viola lands in Illyria, her brother is presumed dead. "And what should I do in Illyria, when my brother...he is in Elysium."