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It is easy to catch Valefor's attention, but difficult to hold it.
She dreams so many dreams for so many dreamers. Valefor travels across the land of Spira, unfettered by the stone figure that holds all that remains of the young woman she once was. When her work is done she disappears back into the ether, and no summoner requires her for very long.
It's unusual, then, to find constancy.
There's a girl who visits Valefor's temple every day. Each time she stays for so long that it's almost as if she lives there, as if she, too, were part of the stonework. More than once, Valefor returns to the temple from a far-off battle and finds the girl sleeping at the feet of one of the high summoner statues.
The priests allow her free run of the temple, which is unusual even in an informal place like Besaid. Closer examination of the girl reveals why—Valefor recognizes her strong jaw, her one blue eye, from when Braska would still call upon her. Of course his daughter is allowed to do as she pleases.
For years, Valefor listens to the girl's laughter. Listens to her study magic and Yevon's teachings until late into the night. Listens as she whispers her dreams and fears to the temple's dark corners, where only Valefor is there to hear. Listens as the girl swears that she'll save Spira, too, regardless of whatever hardships she might face.
Valefor is wings and light—weightless and fearless—the physical embodiment of her own wish to protect all of Spira. This girl, too, she protects.
--
Yuna lies on the glass that shields Valefor's stone form from the outside world. It looks almost as if she’s floating. Her breathing is slow and deep, exhausted, her eyes glazed over as she draws the floor's coolness into her body.
It has been hours now but Valefor only listens. The first summon is always the hardest, and Valefor does not intend to make it any easier.
"Valefor," Yuna whispers. "Are you there?"
The chamber is silent. The air is dense with humidity, almost claustrophobic. In contrast, the ceiling spirals above them until the rafters are lost to darkness.
Yuna's next words are quieter.
"Did you know my father?"
Valefor's attention sharpens at that. Yuna sighs, tracing an invisible pattern against the glass with her finger. "You must have," she murmurs. "Some of the old priests remember him when he passed through on his pilgrimage, but they didn't know..."
Her voice drifts off, and she's quiet for so long that Valefor thinks that she's fallen asleep. It's a surprise when she speaks again, her voice a mumble.
"All these years, I've been waiting to meet you. Lulu and Kimahri and Wakka are like family to me, but you...must have been like family to my father, too. I feel like I've always known you. I used to think you were watching over me as I played. Were you? All that time?"
Valefor yearns to answer. Yes.
"Sin has returned," Yuna whispers. "With you at my side, I know I can bring the Calm once again."
She drags herself to her feet, her movements slow and wincing. Her head stays bowed for a moment longer before her chin lifts, her back straightens. Her hands fall naturally into the sweeping gestures of the summoner's call.
"Valefor," she whispers. Her voice is a caress. "Hear me."
This time, when she spreads her arms wide, Valefor rises up to meet her.
--
Valefor is not like the other aeons.
She is not a child's dream of power and strength, like Bahamut. She does not have the worldly experience of Shiva or Yojimbo. She is not a mother like Anima.
Her human memories are sparse but she remembers working on the family boat to haul in nets full of gleaming fish. She remembers looking across the ocean and then up to the sky, as if her eye was being led there. She remembers stretched canvas tents that shielded her from the noonday sun, sails curved heavy with tradewinds, and childrens' gliders that crowded the air during festivals.
Valefor is not a warrior like Ixion or a mage like the Magus Sisters. Valefor is a kite. Her body is thin, whittled down to its bare essentials, and her thick neck feathers guard her from the chill of high altitudes. Valefor is hollow-boned, built to turn the slightest breeze into an opportunity to soar. She flies with her wings outstretched, all the better to shield the world she loves from disaster.
So when Yuna, in freefall, calls upon her—when Valefor dips down from the sky to lower her summoner back to earth—it's exactly what Valefor was built for. To catch and suspend, to uplift.
The impact on the grass is soft, barely a shudder going through Valefor as she lands on her back. Yuna doesn't move from her chest, pressing close to listen to her slow-beating heart. Yuna’s white gown spills across Valefor’s body, lighter-than-air gossamer floating on the breeze.
"Thank you," Yuna whispers, reaching up as Valefor bows her head. "I knew you'd come."
Valefor cannot speak to reply. Instead, she communicates her devotion with the slight pressure of her beak against Yuna's fingertips. Summoners are always small, and Yuna's physical frame doesn't match the size of her heart. Valefor thinks they're two of a kind in that way: island girls who dream of more, whose outsides don't match their insides; young women ready to sacrifice everything on a gamble for peace. No summoner has ever understood Valefor like Yuna does. Valefor has never understood a summoner the way she understands Yuna.
For you, anything, Valefor thinks.
--
Although she has come at another summoner's behest, it is one of Yuna's guardians who comes pelting towards her when the battlefield clears. He isn't her favorite; Yuna does not have a favorite guardian. But her eye lingers on him longer than the others.
Before Valefor can react, Tidus is pounding on her chest, his voice shaking, demanding answers. His fists do nothing to a creature of her stature, but he is special to Yuna. Valefor bows her head in concern.
Then she understands.
Valefor lets him weep into her soft feathers as Yuna has done so many times before. She watches him cry and finds an unexpected mirror of her own heart. Tidus loves Yuna as Valefor does. Yuna will not be the first summoner Valefor loses, but she will be the hardest.
She cups her wings around Tidus, watching silently as he slides to the floor. It is the least she can do, Valefor thinks, to stand guard over him as he cries out her own grief.
--
Yuna summons all of her aeons until she is surrounded by a ring of horns and claws. She thanks them for their time before explaining their final battle plan. She asks each aeon if they will give their permission to be sacrificed for the sake of true peace. Then she bows low with her hands cupped before her in reverence, thanking them for everything they have done for her and for Spira.
Once the meeting is concluded, the aeons vanish one by one until only Valefor remains.
Wordless, Valefor opens her wings and Yuna steps into them. But instead of hiding her face against Valefor's neck, as she normally does, she looks up to touch the aeon's needle-sharp beak.
Her hand strokes along it, reminiscent of Yuna's greeting every time she summons her. It's a knowing gesture rather than an exploratory one; Valefor is familiar ground. Her hand soothes across Valefor's masklike face, fingertips tracing the whorls of red that curl around her eyes, stroking upward to catch a finger around one tightly curled horn. Valefor rumbles deep in her chest, and Yuna's eyes soften.
Valefor extends her neck, the gesture carding Yuna's fingers through her red feathers, until her beak touches the soft juncture of Yuna's neck and shoulder. She rests there, blowing slow, steady breaths against Yuna's skin. Yuna shivers until her shoulders relax.
Yuna rises onto her tiptoes and whispers into her feathers, a soft apology that Valefor chooses to ignore.
Yuna's hands wander down to the featherless planes of Valefor's chest. Her pectorals are pronounced from her endless flying, and she closes her eyes as Yuna presses her hands to them, before running them down to the taper of her narrow stomach. Yuna’s arms encircle Valefor’s waist, tugging her closer.
Yuna reaches up again and Valefor bows her head, lowering herself into Yuna's waiting palms. Soft hands run across the crests of her wings until Yuna's arms are outstretched, an echo of Valefor's wingspan. Now it is Valefor's turn to relax, a soft purr in her throat as Yuna slides careful and sure across her wings' satin-soft skin, identifying each curve and hollow.
I will die for you, Valefor thinks, as plainly as it is possible to think such a heavy thought. It is a simple statement of fact.
Yuna presses a kiss to her chest, just above her heart.
For you, anything.