The change wasn't something immediate, something she could pinpoint the exact moment to with absolute certainty; in some ways she wasn't even sure if anything had changed at all. It had always been cold and dark in this empty plane, the thick smog of Chaos had always blown fiercely through her soft pink tresses, she had always been here in this realm fulfilling her divine duty…

And she had always felt this nagging need for something deep inside her.

Most days- if she could even differentiate between days within this timeless realm- pass without complication. She rests upon her throne of crystal as she completes the cycle of rebirth, the dark armor of her helmet and pauldrons revealing tints of bronze in the reflected light of the souls finding their way to her, waiting to receive her gift of life reborn. At other times she finds herself wandering the plains of the realm she alone rules, Valhalla. The Chaos roars constantly over the dull rocky terrain, cutting through the shards of crystal embedded into the ground. It is here where she feels that nagging need for something. Exactly what that something is, she can never quite tell.

Sometimes she sees shadows in the smog- the long outline of a lance, the silhouette of a large muscled man, a small inky dot of what appears to be some feathered creature- but she tries not to give too much thought to them. After all, she is the only one to roam this land. Surely if there were other inhabitants she would know, she would sense another sign of life? Yes, surely, she often reassures herself. However, there are other more discerning anomalies she can't dismiss quite as easily.

Though she can't see them, they seem to be almost worse than the fleeting shadows. At least with the shadows she can reason them away, claiming them to simply be unusually shaped gusts of Chaos. But these anomalies she can't fight off with reason, can't fight without them having a shape or form.

They're voices.

They ride among the ever roaring winds of Chaos, their sound almost drowned out by the deafening wind, but her finely tuned ears can still hear them. They pierce through to her mind and call out to her insistently, begging her to acknowledge them, to come home please, and she in turn blocks them out. For she is home, isn't she? She has been in the Chaos for as long as she can remember, taking in expired souls and breathing new life into them. At first she wonders if perhaps the voices are calling out to one of those souls, for the names she hears certainly don't belong to her.

Grumpy

Lightning

Sunshine

Sis

Light

Claire

But no, that can't be, for the last name strikes a certain chord within her, hitting her with unexpected pain and sorrow, emotions she had previously thought she was incapable of feeling. Suddenly her throne feels too high and too hard, the air too heavy for her to bear and suffocating. So she flees, her dark silks billowing behind her dashing figure, meshing in with the swirling Chaos as she sprints out into the abyss.

Unburdened by the mortal weakness of fatigue, she runs. Runs as far as her will desires out into the endless plains of Valhalla. She eventually collapses among the rocks and shards of crystal, her body perfectly energized and fine but her mind- her heart- strained from too many burdens. Buried emotions and blurred memories begin to surface and burn the young goddess' mind, tears beginning to form for the first time in over several hundred lifetimes. Unable to stand the sudden onslaught she lowers her face to the cold ground and grasps her head, her fists clutching the dark wings on her helmet, and praying to her god to make it stop, make the voices go away, make the feelings and memories and pain just stop.

The wind stills roars and the Chaos never stops swirling as the goddess weeps into the ground, her dark silks bunched all around her as she curls up into herself. This is the state in which her god finally comes to her, a blinding hole of light opening within the dark skies of Valhalla, his holy form descending down to his poor pitiful goddess.

She hardly notices his presence as he gathers her silks and gently scoops her up in his muscular arms, too busy was she in trying to silence her wails as he begins the long trek back to her crystal throne. He allows her the peace and quiet as she silently sobs into his bare chest, her tears dripping onto the intricate patterns along his collarbones. Though the winds are now blowing against them, the God of Light moves confidently, unfazed by them, his billowing cloaks and shifting silver hair being the only indicators that there is any wind blowing at all.

After a long silent journey, the outline of the goddess' crystal throne soon begins to form on the horizon, the now quiet bundle in the god's arms having been reduced to mere sniffles. The voices are still there, lingering in the back of the goddess' mind- having paled in the presence of her divine god- but they still hurt, still bring up foreign and unwelcome emotions.

Just remember me, okay?

The god gently lowers her back into her throne, rearranging her elegant dress and straightening her dark pauldrons. She finally looks up at her god and stares into his eyes, orbs of a green so clear, so bright, and suddenly so…..familiar. The goddess' own eyes widen in realization for a moment, pieces clicking together and memories becoming clearer, more distinct. Almost as if he could see this discovery in her eyes, he gently grabs her chin and leans closer to her poor distraught face. "But…but Hope it's us! We need-" she stutters, beginning to panic now that she can remember.

"Silence, my goddess," he soothes, placing a finger over her lips, "there is no need to fret. We have all we need right here." The finger is replaced by his own lips against hers in a mind fogging kiss and suddenly, her worries are gone. The voices are no more. Her trauma had never happened at all.

He pulls away and leaves her sitting there upon her throne, her eyes still closed and her face tear-stained but empty and serene once again.

His goddess now soothed, the God of Light reopens the swirling dark skies and ascends back to a higher plane she can only dream of entering.

But that is alright, she thinks. For she is the Goddess of Death and her place is here, in Valhalla. She was meant to continue and watch over the cycle of rebirth, ensuring humanity thrives.

That is, and has forever been, her only role.

A/N: wow, so my first fanfic ever. it was based on this AU where Lightning lost the final battle to Bhunivelze and became his new Goddess of Death. Bhunivelze in turn, completely absorbed Hope so now he's pretty much still Bhunivelze, it's just that he has more of Hope's physical appearance and his kinder personality and feelings towards Light. just in case you were wondering, the Valhalla here isn't the Valhalla seen in XIII-2, it's that place in the ending cinematic of LR where the gang meets Caius and all of the Yeuls before travelling to the new world. y'know. that place. and Light's goddess ensemble is based on what Etro is wearing in the cover image there because I'm in love with that design lol