Disclaimer: I Do Not own Final Fantasy X, Square Enix does.

Summary: Yuna never jumps off the edge of the Bevelle, in consequence never stopping Seymour from killing her guardians. Now, they're all dead, and Yuna is being forced by the Maesters to finish her pilgrimage with Seymour as her lone guardian.

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They shouldn't have been there.

Yuna started her descent into the trials of Bevelle.

But then again, I'm their summoner, and they were only trying to protect me. If I were them, I probably would have done the same thing.

She reached the door preceding the trial. Heaving a breath, she walked through the door.

She was feeling terribly uncomfortable, and the fact that they were dead- He was dead- and now she was being forced to finish her pilgrimage with their murder, Seymour, stuck like a knife in her heart.

Finishing the trial in record time, she reached the Chamber of the Fayth. As she made her way to the center of the room she felt another walk in as well. Yuna turned to see the last person she wanted to see, Maester Seymour.

"What do you want?" Yuna stared him straight in the eyes.

"I am your guardian now, Yuna. It is my duty to assist you with receiving the aeons." Seymour gave her a smug smile.

"Leave, I can do this on my own." Yuna turned to go in the chamber.

"If not as your guardian, then as your husband, I will stay."

Husband. The word stung like a knife, it rung in her ears, causing her back to stiffen and her entire body to freeze for a moment.

He was her husband. The man who order the deaths of her childhood friends, her father's guardian, her cousin, and her love, he was her husband. Bonded forever in the name of Yevon.

"I said leave, and as your summoner, your must obey my command." She turned back to him. "Go." She pointed to the door.

"As you wish, but I will be waiting outside for you, my wife." Seymour turned to leave, and walked out the door.

Just to Zanarkand and it will all be over. And I can see them; I can see him, again.

Yuna walked into the chamber. She kneeled and began her prayer.

"Hello, Yuna."

She lifted her head, so she could see the face, or whatever wasn't hidden of his face, of the fayth.

He was a young boy, about twelve years old. His hood hid his eyes from view. Yuna wondered what stories were hidden behind those covered eyes, but this was not the time to ask, she was on a mission.

"Hello." She said quietly.

"You seem sad."

She looked to the floor, then back to the fayth. "I'm just…"

"Don't cry. I understand, you miss them."

Yuna nodded. "It wasn't right. I should have done something… I could have save them." Her tears sparkled in her eyes; she tried to blink them back.

"This isn't your fault, Yuna."

"But, I could have…" She felt so numb, and now the tears threatened to fall. I must be strong; I must be strong for Spira.

"It was evitable, there was no other choice."

Yuna tears pushed trough, no matter how hard she tried to hold them, they poured down her face. "I could have saved them! I could have stopped this from happening! They would be here now, they would be with me!"

The tears poured like a river down her cheeks. She breathed deeply trying to regain her composure, but there was no anvil. The tears fell, and there was no way to stop them.

Don't cry, Yunie.

"Huh?" Yuna looked around the room through her tear filled eyes, only the fayth, just like before. "Did you-?" She looked at the fayth, who shook his head.

She stood. "Rikku?"

She turned around, looking for any sign of Rikku. "Are you here? Where are you?"

Silence was her only answer.

Yuna fell to the floor again. "I was really hoping…"

"Yuna?" She looked up at the fayth.

"Yes."

"Do you wish to receive my aeon?" She nodded. He flew and merged into her. And as with every aeon she received, as they merged, she fell unconscious.

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Flowers? Why is there flowers? Am I dreaming?

She took in the sight around her, endless fields of flowers.

Yuna, can you hear me?

The voice was different than the one she had heard in the chamber, but none the less familiar.

Yuna?

She turned to where the voice had originated. And just like a dream, he was standing there.