Author's Note:

I've always thought the relationship between Flynn and Yuri somewhat underdeveloped, considering the potential for much greater conflict and drama between the two. For example, what if Flynn, instead of Duke, was the final boss? What would be the circumstances under which this could happen? And what would happen afterwards?

This is my answer.

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Disclaimer: I don't own anyone. I haven't finished the game yet, even though I have a rough idea, so I might be wrong about some things.

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When was the last time Yuri cried? He was seven at the time, his father the victim of a random robbery. He cried as the last vestiges of his father's ashes disappeared into the blue sky, despite promising himself not to, earlier. Flynn was there; Flynn, just a year older, the older brother he never had, whose hair was as fair as his was dark. It was Flynn who taught Yuri how to get by on the streets without resorting to petty theft, and it was he who, when they were 18, first brought up the idea of joining the Imperial Knights.

The first cracks appeared when Yuri quit. But they were friends, still, and rivals, even when he later turned his back on the law and became his own justice.

Who could have known that, ten years later…

"Ironic, huh?" said Yuri, nonchalant as always. The bodies of a dozen guards lay strewn around the Throne Room. He sheathed his sword and turned to the figure perched on the only chair in the area.

"You just single-handedly decimated a castle's worth of knights, and that's the first thing you say?" Flynn smiled, in spite of himself. It was the briefest shadow of a smile though; his eyes were sunken, shining with the gold of his crown. His hair, once of a comparable richness, now hung dank and pale.

"You haven't been taking care of yourself, Flynn," Yuri noted. "You need to sleep more often."

"I think I could have gotten similar advice without you having to come all--"

Yuri checked his nails, his tone deliberately cool. "It's because of the nightmares, isn't it?"

Flynn fell silent, and pursed his lips.

Yuri chuckled. "Remember that time you broke Hanks' wheelbarrow by accident, when we were 13? You couldn't sleep for two weeks…" and his smile grew bittersweet. "How can you sleep now, after killing so many to get where you are? First Sodia, when she tried to stop you, then Ioder, and finally--"

His voice wavered, and he stopped. But Flynn knew, in any case.

"Stop it," Flynn cried. "I know who I killed. Do you think I wanted to? Do you think I wanted to taint my hands and my soul with foul murder and regicide? I had no choice."

"There is always a choice, Flynn."

"A choice between hope and certain doom, Yuri. You've been away from the capital too long, building up your guild. You couldn't have known what things were like, here."

Yuri turned away, his face obscured by dark hair. "Was Estelle doing such a bad job that you had to kill her?"

He didn't see Flynn's expression then, but it was one of pain. "Her Majesty… she has a good heart. But she was too naïve—"

—too sweet, too trusting, too good—

"—to be able to counter the Council's machinations. They were clinging on to power and the old ways, and even I, as Commandant, could not change the laws. I could only enforce them."

"Couldn't she order the Council around? She was the Empress!"

Flynn shook his head. "She had no power base to speak of; she was Empress only in name. I tried, I did try to support her in all she did, and to protect her, but one day I heard plans to replace me with someone more pliant, more receptive to the Council…

"They planted doubts in her about me, talked of disloyalty among the Knights. I was away from the capital too often to defend myself. So I gathered evidence to charge them in the court of law… but they got away."

"Just as Ragou got away. Initially," said Yuri.

"Yes. And then I realised the only course left to me, if I were to achieve true change."

"Become emperor yourself."

Flynn gave a weary sigh. "Yes."

"So you killed all contenders to the throne, killed Estelle, and took Dein Nomos?"

"I… I pretended the sword appeared at the foot of my bed, after a brief disappearance."

"As if it chose you to be the next emperor. Flynn, it's almost amusing how you insist on pretences even after committing such crimes."

"Practically speaking, it doesn't matter. I ruled well, didn't I? I brought peace and security to all in the Empire, at the sacrifice of a few individuals. It was a bargain."

"Unfortunately, I agree: you did rule well. The lower quarter has never seen better days."

Yuri unsheathed his sword, and threw aside the scabbard. "But I still have to kill you."

"For doing the same things you did? After all, you killed Ragou and Cumore; two lives to save many more. How different are we, now?"

"I killed them because they were monsters. You were a good emperor, at least in the beginning. But in the past few years, you've become draconian; your laws are harsh, your justice too swift. You've killed everyone who knew or might have known about your crimes. The people are afraid. Afraid of you. Flynn, you've become the monster you once tried to defeat."

Flynn laughed, mirthlessly. "So is that how the world sees me now? A monster? I tried to bring the people safety, security and justice, and this, this is how they repay me."

"Freedom is too high a price for security, Flynn. But even if it weren't…" Yuri lifted his sword, and his eyes shone obsidian, "You killed Estelle. That alone is reason enough."

"I… I'm sorry, Yuri."

"An apology won't bring her back."

"So you must kill me?"

Yuri could only nod.

Flynn nodded too, slowly. "If it must come down to this, then very well. Let this be a trial for my sins. But wait a moment: what happens after I die? Master Ioder and Her Majesty left no descendants; I myself leave no offspring. What becomes of the succession?"

"That's where you're mistaken, Flynn," Yuri answered, as he twirled his weapon. "Estelle did leave a child. She had him just before ascending to the throne, and left him a token with which he can be identified."

"An illegitimate child?"

"One with a better claim to the throne than yours, nonetheless."

"And who is the father?"

"That," said Yuri, "should be fairly obvious."

"So don't worry about dying, alright?" he continued. "The child will be the next emperor, should you die today. Just give me all you've got."

Flynn shrugged the heavy mantle off his shoulders and stood up. His ornate armour glittered as he stepped out of the throne's shadow and into the morning sunlight, and as he threw aside the crown, he smiled.

"Are you sure you can take it?"

Yuri grinned. "Bring it on."

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And so they fought.

It was a foregone conclusion. Flynn showed his old flashes of brilliance, as the clash of swords rubbed away the rust, but years on the high chair had dulled his senses. Yuri, on the other hand, was by then one of the best swordsmen in the Empire and beyond. So when Yuri dealt the final blow, he delivered it with a sense of inevitability.

Flynn did nothing to block that thrust to the chest.

As he lay on the ground, bleeding, he looked up at Yuri, and whispered, "You've always been my best friend, you know."

Yuri knelt down besides him, and grasped his hand. "I know."

Death came swiftly, silently. With a shudder, Flynn was gone.

Yuri stayed there a little while longer. Later, the knights found him in his inn room, clutching a young, black-haired boy to himself, crying. In his hand he held a memento, a brooch in the shape of a flower.

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