Formerly titled 'Overshadowed by Destiny'.

The day she realised she loved Lloyd was the day she discovered that she was going to die.

It was bright. The birds chirped, exhilarated in the shade of the lime-green foliage; they would hush themselves as the sun edged closer to its zenith, as the summer heat overpowered their song. It was the Sabbath today—that meant that the market was closed and, soon, the villagers would be making their way to the church. She would have to leave now in order to greet everyone as they arrived.

No one had told her to do so, but she took it upon herself. Was that not the Chosen of Mana's duty? And, besides, the priest had requested that she stay back following the service, for they had important news for her ears alone. She wouldn't be able to farewell the Iselians, so she should at least be there at the beginning, right?

"Father, I'm off!"

"Take care, dear." He smiled at her, gentle as always. But his eyes, blue as her own, held a dark quality.

She'd seen it sometimes, when their neighbours gushed about the blessing of the Cruxis Crystal, how they couldn't wait for the Day of Prophecy so that the Chosen One could regenerate the world; when he noticed that she would curb her own wishes in favour of others'; when they whispered that she was not his daughter but that of an angel. When she was old enough to comprehend that she was sacrificing everything she was for a bunch of strangers. When Colette began to spend more and more time at the temple and less at school and with Genis and Lloyd.

She returned his love with a beam, injecting as much joy as she could.

Smiling was a riveting phenomenon. She pondered it as she walked down the path, tiny swirls of dirt puffing up with every step. When her father was in one of his melancholic moods, a simple chortle from her would bring up his spirits despite the emptiness inside. When one day she hadn't seen Lloyd at all and the lone thing she was identified by was 'Chosen' and nobody said 'Colette'. Somehow, merely upturning the lips made her feel better, made her readier to face each day as it came.

Due to that, it was one of the few things she had mastered.

She would never have Lloyd's blinding grin, nor his vigorous laugh. She would never have Genis' smarts, nor the Professor's serene aura.

But she could have her smile that comforted the world. People she didn't know.

So, on she went, down the winding road to the church, and welcomed each villager by name even if they would not respond with hers. She sat through the liturgy with her back straight, her hands clasped neatly on her lap, eyes fixed on the deacon during his sermon, and smile unyielding throughout even as her bottom and facial muscles began to ache.

Lloyd didn't show. He seldom did unless she entreated him. He always said it was too far and he didn't want to go all the way to Iselia to sit in a boring 'lecture' for an hour. She already knew that he only went to school to see her and Genis. It was a bit much to ask, but she did anyway, occasionally.

Afterwards, the congregants filed out slowly, muffled voices drifting into the church as they invited one another to supper and swapped stories, many of which she knew she would have longed to hear. A tap on the shoulder alerted her to someone's presence. She rotated her neck: Genis. His head was tilted, thumb pointing towards the door in a silent question. She smiled and shook her head, index fingers pushing against each other in a habit she had yet to break. The elf's face fell at the realisation that he would not be hanging out with either of his best friends that day; she offered him an apologetic look which he waved away and waved goodbye. The Professor waited at the double-doored entrance, sharp eyes cutting into her like she was privy to all of Colette's secrets.

She sat for a few minutes in thanksgiving (which also gave time for the deacon to snuff out the candles and for him and the priest to change out of their vestments) before rising. Light streamed through the stained-glass windows, colouring it green and red and a thousand other shades. She always liked to look at the windowpanes—Genis labelled it as leaded glass but everyone else just said 'stained'; she went along with it because it was easier that way. She would have had to explain herself every time she used that term and she didn't want to inconvenience people like that. The Chosen of Mana should never inconvenience people.

In any case, it was difficult to gauge the sun's position through the translucent casement, but by its intensity, she guessed it was about an hour past noon. Her stomach grumbled at the cue. She pushed down the desire to stretch and made her way to the sacristy. She stumbled over a pew again and apologised to it. Lloyd's exasperated expression swam into her imagination, along with his mental voice telling her not to say sorry so regularly, and particularly not to an inanimate object. She apologised to him, too.

"Pastor?" she called, pushing open the door. She poked her head into the room and noted with relief that the deacon was still there beside him. It would be inappropriate for either of them to be found alone in each other's company. Really, it was almost always improper for Colette to appear anywhere without a chaperone.

"Ah, Chosen One. Thank you for coming. Truly, your responsibility is great; you bear it with such poise." His pride was palpable. She shifted, self-conscious.

"You had something to tell me?" She cocked her head slightly, blonde tresses falling over her shoulder.

"That is correct, Chosen. Your grandmother, Phaidra, decided it was time you were told." Told what? She paid no heed to her title; it was said so frequently it had practically become her name, and she had become desensitised to the hurt it had once caused. She'd have forgotten her birth name were it not for Lloyd, Genis, and her father. Besides, Lloyd's quiet anger about it made her feel better—not that she would ever tell anyone that. He stepped towards her and stopped roughly a metre away. "You have already learned about the Journey of Regeneration."

Her eyebrows lifted a little. "Yes," and went on to recite what she had been taught from birth. "On the Day of Prophecy, on my sixteenth birthday, I will receive the oracle from the Goddess Martel. Then, I must travel across Sylvarant, passing Her trials. With every seal released, I become closer to transforming into an angel. This awakens the summon spirits and restores the world's mana."

"Very good, Chosen," he congratulated with a quirk of the lips. Then his eyes turned sadder, much like her father's had earlier. "Have you thought about what it means to become an angel?"

She blinked a couple of times. She looked down, placed a finger next to her mouth. "I… not really. I'll go to heaven?"

"And what does 'going to heaven' entail, child?" he prompted.

She went cold.

The priest saw her stiffen. The silence stretched out for another minute before he spoke again. "Please cherish the years that you have."

Her hands shook but the bow that she executed was practised and polite. "Goddess be with you, Pastor," she said, managing to keep most of the fright out of her tone.

She didn't hear his reply (and with your spirit), too intent on leaving without another mishap—more likely now that she was distracted. Though he hadn't said it, the pastor's voice echoed in her head.

You will die. You will die. You will die.

"Colette?"

A single word broke her out of her reverie. She looked up to find one of the last people she wanted to see right now. She twisted around and fled.

She didn't get far before she tripped. It was just her luck. She squeezed her eyes shut as she fell but nothing impacted her face. A hand had wrapped around her arm and pulled her back to her two left feet.

"Lloyd…"

"What's wrong?" His warm brown eyes searched hers. Her naturally pasty face was drained of colour, while he was a healthy pink in the strong sunlight, tanned slightly from the long hours spent playing and working. His grip was firm; her body was flaccid from shock. She shook her head, unable to answer.

A small sigh exited him as his eyes softened further. Before she could feel guilty about making him feel like that, he was guiding her to their secluded glade in the forest. The murmur of the village and the dry scent of smoke died away; the chitter of critters and the crunching of dirt and grass beneath their footsteps took their place.

She was sitting on a bench now. Traced its lines of grain, sanded a little to prevent splintered fingers. Varnish was expensive; otherwise, Lloyd would have slathered it on, acquainted with her logic-defying clumsiness.

"When did you make this?"

She could feel his proud grin even though she wasn't looking, didn't feel his touch. "Finished it this morning. Been working on it for weeks! Dad said it was 'all right', but I could tell he was happy with my progress! So, I figured it was good enough for our special place and moved it over here. Like it?"

She had been listening quietly, revelling in the sound of his voice, the way it lilted a tad, deepened when he imitated Dirk and rose with his excitement, blundered through the word 'progress'—a big word for him at that age—and was taken aback when he asked for her input.

"Um… it's good!" she exclaimed helpfully. He wasn't expecting an analysis; she did not know enough about carpentry to comment. She liked how straightforward he was. She was complex and weak, everything a Chosen shouldn't be, and Genis perplexed her at times with his cleverness. Not that that was a bad thing!

He chuckled, leg jiggling up and down as he was wont to do. When they were shorter, they would swing his legs back and forth underneath seats instead. With his recent growth spurt, he couldn't do that anymore, but she still could.

She also liked how he wouldn't push her to talk when she was worried about something. He was so open with her and Genis, it sometimes made her feel bad that she wouldn't share her own concerns with him. But he had always reassured her that it was okay, that he understood. She found out after a while that he never went to school during a specific time of the year because that was when he had been adopted by Dirk. She knew he was of two minds about that. Devastated about being separated from his family, at the constant reminder that his mother was gone, that he didn't know anything about his father: what he looked like, what his name was, whether he was alive or dead. Yet glad that, thanks to that, he got to know everyone, got to have a dad although he did not remember his biological one.

In turn, she was so grateful that he had entered her life. Everything was sunnier in his presence, everything funnier and more fun. Even when one member of the trio was depressed, nothing felt hopeless since he was around. There was an inner happiness to him that spread to whomsoever he touched.

He turned his earnest eyes on her, his trademark grin uplifting her soul. "Are you feeling better now?"

She was about to reply unthinkingly with a "Yes, of course!" before she paused, looked inside herself. The wound was still there, pulsing with hidden pain. But it was no longer raw and festering, bleeding tears that she could not shed.

And it was all because of Lloyd.

She stared up at him in awe. His smile faltered, replaced with puzzlement. She giggled and buried her face into his chest, feeling him freeze for a moment before patting her back gracelessly.

His heartbeat reverberated throughout her system, and she closed her eyes. Her own thrummed in response, slowly adjusting itself to match.

She had accepted long ago that she would undertake such a dangerous expedition for the sake of the goddess and the many she did not know. But now, happy as she was, she found her reason to give up her life.

Colette loved Lloyd.

She had doubted she would ever tell him, knowing her fate was to leave him eventually. So, she had determined that she would keep it close to her heart. She wouldn't ask for his.

She would have if she'd known he was going to be torn from her.

A/N: Since the Church of Martel appears to be based off Christianity, as fantasy stories with a Church usually are (and given the gratuitous Latin that isn't even always correct—'inofficium' isn't even a word!), I went, 'Okay, let's just slip in a few terms and stuff, might as well.'

This was originally written as a scene in my WIP. On a whim, I have decided that it works better as a one-shot. I'll figure out what to replace it with.

You may take that last line as a teaser.

I also would really appreciate constructive criticism.