A/N: There was some interest for my one shot from long ago to be continued. I've been working on what I want to happen in the continued version and actually writing it. If there's enough interest, I will write this story to the end. I will try to keep up on Madness as well, but I have lost a lot of motivation for that story to this one. Enjoy, and don't forget to review with your thoughts and opinion on fully continuing In Valhalla.

I don't own Final Fantasy.


"I think... I'd rather stay here," Noctis said. He had a small smile on his face. Surely, Light wouldn't mind the company. Wouldn't she enjoy it? She'd probably been alone for so long that having someone with her would bring her some happiness.

Noctis stood a bit nervously. Light still had not responded and her face gave no evidence of how she was currently feeling. She'll be happy, Noctis thought to himself. Afterall, he would be happy to have company after so long. How long had she been alone anyway? Maybe she does have company somewhere on this island in some form.

"No," Light said.

Strange how such a simple word can crush Noctis' feelings so quickly. "Why?" he managed to get out.

"It's not your future," Light said. She didn't look angry to Noctis, but he couldn't read her feelings easily either. She did, however, have a look that reminded Noctis of one his mother had when he would say he'll bring peace. A small, pitiful smile and eyes full of sadness that know his dreams are just that: dreams.

"You still have life," Light continued. Then, with a glare bordering angry, she said, "Don't throw it away."

Noctis nodded reluctantly. "Your heart still beats. Your mother weeps over your sleeping form. Your father hides his sorrow well, being strong for his wife. Your friends deny that you won't wake," Light added.

"Does your heart still beat?" Noctis asked.

Light held that small, sad smile on her face. "I am without a body here, but Valhalla doesn't require one."

"Here? Does that mean your body is elsewhere?"

Light sighed and looked out at the city for a moment before returning her gaze to Noctis. "You have a few moments before you must return. I had to separate with my body when the goddess gave me her powers. It became an anchor for Valhalla and the Living World. Without doing so, Chaos would have wiped out the humans. I used my new power to funnel the Chaos to Valhalla, where it belongs, using the Heart of Chaos."

"Caius had the Heart of Chaos, but when he died, it died with him?" Noctis meant to say a statement, but he wasn't sure how much of the stories he knew were real or fake anymore.

"Caius died a moment before the goddess, and Yeul before him. Both the Heart of Chaos and Etro's Eyes were returned to her. When she gave me her powers, I inherited both of those traits as well."

"Is your body still trapped in the Living World?"

Light sighed. "Yes. I am neither living nor dead. Trapped in stasis while I fulfill my duties." Light lead Noctis to the balcony's rail. "Those include sending you back."

"I have to go now?" Noctis wanted just a few more minutes. He wanted more knowledge about Light. "Will I meet you again?" He started to feel an encompassing desperation. It was as though a black hole had been created in him and he was about to be sucked into an absolute void.

The few inches of height that Noctis had on Light seemed inconsequencial with the full intensity of her gaze on him. Such power emanating from her made him feel small, helpless.

Light grabbed Noctis' arm and gave him a shove over the balcony immediately after saying "You will. There's no time to explain it, but it's necessary for you to stay alive for me to be able to finish some business with the Living World. After this brush with death, you will not be the same. That's why you must live."

Noctis didn't have time to absorb what Light was saying as he was falling to the gate. A blinding light came from the gate that forced his eyes closed. Oddly, the feeling of falling stopped and Noctis felt suspended, like he was floating on water.

Slowly the pain began to seep into him, the pain he had expected, yet never felt, when he woke in Valhalla. Everything hurt. He felt so weak, so tired. Other than one of his hands, he felt decently cold as well.

"After this brush with death, you will not be the same."

What would be different? Would he be severely disabled from the damage of the swords he had been impaled with?

Groaning, he opened his eyes ever so slightly. He had to blink many times to clear his vision and get used to the light. Light.

"Noctis? Sweetheart, you're awake!" said a voice to Noctis' right on the verge of sobbing. Or midst, he wasn't sure at this point.

Was it all a dream?

Straining to turn his head, Noctis saw his mother sitting beside him, his hand clasped firmly between two of hers and pressed against her cheek. "I was so scared!" she cried, allowing her tears to freely stream down her face.

"I'll go get the doctor, hold on just a moment. I'll be right back, I promise," his mother said, dashing out of the room.

Noctis had a moment to observe his surroundings. White room. White curtains. White bed. White gown. IV drips connected to his arms. A mask over his face forcing him to breath. He was definitely in the castle's hospital ward. With war always looming and the constant threat to the royal family, not having a fully staffed and operational hospital ward at the castle would have been the same as signing a death certificate.

Especially in Noctis' case at the moment.

The doctor rushed in with Noctis' mother on his heels. Most of his words didn't permeate the thick fog of his mind. He did catch grievous wounds, miracle, extensive therapy, and recovery.

The doctor seemed to have noticed Noctis' blank stare. He did a small check up of his injuries and started to ask simple questions to Noctis: one blink for yes, two for no.

"Do you remember what happened?"

Blink.

"Do you feel pain?"

Blink.

"Do you recognize this woman?" the doctor motioned to Noctis' mother.

Blink. How could I forget my own mother?

Noctis' mother looked very relieved at his answer. He could tell she was trying her best to wait until the doctor was gone to smother his hand with love. Seeing as it's all she could do without causing him immense pain in his condition.

The doctor seemed satisfied enough and turned to his mother, "Queen Azalea," he started. "It looks to me that our beloved Prince Noctis will be able to recover well enough. His injuries have healed a miraculous amount and, with therapy, he should be able to make a full recovery. The Kingdom of Lucis' heir will survive."

The queen was an emotional mess. "T-tell Regis the news," she managed to get out.

"Of course, my lady," the doctor said and, with a quick bow, he was out of the room.

Before Noctis fell back asleep, he could remember hearing his dad's gravelly voice and his mom's sweet voice in a chorus of words, some to him, some to each other. He felt safe listening to them. It reminded him of when he was a sick child, being surrounded by his parents and their soothing words.

When he woke again, it was dark in his room. His mother slept on a chair beside him, though her upper body rested on his bed. He didn't mind. Across from him, the window was open. The hospital ward was very hard to get to, being on the backside of the castle, so it was figured that it would be okay for windows to be placed. Then, the injured could look out into the beautiful castle garden, which was extremely well-guarded. During the night, the stars shined high above the garden.

The entire scene was peaceful to Noctis. He liked the thought that maybe, somewhere under this night sky, Light's body actually sat in stasis. Maybe she actually existed. Maybe, if she did, he could even find her body and wake her from stasis somehow. Then, they really could stay together. The thoughts that she was more than the dream of a dying man filled Noctis with a warmth he hadn't felt before. As he wondered where she might be, Noctis saw streaks of light go across the sky. At first he though they were shooting stars, but they changed colors to soft purple, the orange and red of a sunset, and a variety of other colors that were easy on the eyes. They all headed the same direction, but they would swerve on the path, like they were children playing a game with each other.

What were they, if not shooting stars? The only answer Noctis could think of was from legends his story loving mother told him. Even after they faded from his sight, Noctis knew that any answer other than the legend was wrong. With this new knowledge, Noctis knew one other thing to be certain as well.

Valhalla wasn't just a dream.