A/N: Finally, one for the dream set that deals with Yuri's dreams! I enjoyed writing this one. It was interesting trying to blend nightmares and double meanings with imagery from a half-remembered story from childhood.

Disclaimer: The characters and settings in this story are from Tales of Vesperia and do not belong to me.

Yuri's boot came down with a deadened scrunch on a patch of gravelly dirt. He stopped and turned to view his surroundings. Aside from the irregular splash of bare ground where he stood, the entirety of the valley around him was thickly carpeted with flowers. They swayed in the light breeze, dazzlingly white petals and sun gold centers gazing adoringly up at the clear sky. Yuri looked up to see what held their attention. The bright blue dome above him was clear as a flawless marble, though clouds gathered around the horizon, dark and vaguely threatening where they rose above the shadowy mountains cupping the valley. There was a storm rolling in from all sides.

He turned his attention back to the flowers, sweeping his gaze across them. They were countless, growing thickly enough to take on the appearance of snow drifts near the foot of the mountains. He'd gotten turned around and couldn't see where he'd entered the valley. There was no trodden path visible, not the slightest disturbance to the blanket of gold-flecked white.

Something important was hidden among the flowers. He wished he could remember what it was.

Memories flocked to Yuri's waking mind as he lay still and listened to the sounds of peaceful sleep from his traveling companions. Years and years ago, back when whatever fight he and Flynn got into could be solved by sharing a piece of bread, he could remember the feel of gentle hands stroking back his hair as a cool cloth was pressed to his forehead. He'd gotten sick. Had it been Hanks' wife or Flynn's mother who had cared for him that time? He couldn't remember. He remembered heavy blankets and hot, salty broth. He remembered a soft voice telling him stories as he faded in and out of fever dreams.

Once upon a time, there was an innkeeper's daughter, a young maiden who, though humbly born, was beautiful as a sunset and carried herself as if the blood of kings flowed through her veins. The man she loved was a daring and devoted youth, but poor and without prospects that would allow him to provide her the comfortable life he felt she deserved. Though she assured him over and over that his love alone was more than enough to make her happy until the end of her days, he became a knight and set out to earn his fortune, planning to ask for her hand upon his return.

Estelle sat up and yawned. The movement of her outstretched arms seemed to push the old story away, and the words faded before the day's concerns. Ragou had been arrested a second time, but since he'd managed to weasel his way out of justice once already, Yuri wanted to hear straight from Flynn what the magistrate's punishment would be. The extension of the corruption in Capua Nor had been staggering, and he couldn't understand why word of it hadn't reached any helpful ears. There was something more going on, and, though he couldn't see the shape of it just yet, it felt big. Over the years, he'd developed a sixth sense for trouble apart from his outrage at obvious injustices. The situation he'd blundered into had his hackles up, and he wasn't looking forward to being caught up in whatever carefully woven web it was part of.

His blade moved swifter with a threat against Flynn to motivate it. One slice was all it took. It was practically effortless, and he watched the magistrate's cloak flutter down to the paving stones at his feet, shedding bits of emptiness like straw. As he looked down on the puppet lying slashed clean through, he felt empty himself. He lifted the bundle, and the silks flowed like blood over his hands. Ragou had a marionette's carved face, glass eyes rolling wildly in his painted wooden skull. They focused only a moment on Yuri before he tossed his burden over the side of the bridge. Without waiting for the splash, he turned around.

The lush field of flowers spread out from around his feet. This time, there was no small clearing to stand in, and he held himself perfectly still. The blossoms waved like a flag in the breeze, brushing against his boots halfway up his calf. He remembered that he had to pick one, one in particular, but they all looked the same to him and, as he glanced around with increasing agitation, he wondered how he was supposed to search without tromping over half of them.

A soft sound snatched at his attention, and he felt the breath flee his lungs as he looked down to see a single drop of blood upon one of the flowers. Hurriedly, he wiped his dirtied hands on his vest. No matter how roughly he tried to scrub off the blood, however, it continued to well in his palms and drip from his fingers. Light faded, drawn up into the gathering storm to feed the roiling clouds. There was a chill in the air.

Time was running out.

Yuri woke with a stifled gasp. He held himself still so as not to disturb the others, though the creaking of the ship and the constant sound of waves breaking against her hull probably would have drowned out any small noises he made. They were working their way to Nordopolica on board the Fiertia and, although he was excited to be traveling by sea and invigorated by fights against bands of raiding mermen, whenever he happened to sit still, he was swamped with a weariness that brought him back to some of his worst days in Zaphias, back to before he'd gotten caught up in an adventure. At those times, his mood soured enough to make him wonder if it had been worth it to leave his home.

He'd had trouble sleeping ever since he'd dealt with— Murdered. He forced himself to call it what it was. He'd had trouble sleeping ever since he'd murdered Ragou. If insomnia didn't deny him rest, what sleep he got was troubled by strange dreams. He frowned, thinking suddenly that the vague notions of a vast field of flowers had been part of an earlier dream. The realization made it seem as if his actions were creeping back to affect everything he'd ever been. He shuddered, and reminded himself that he had done what was necessary.

There was so much going on, so much chaos in the outside world that had never filtered back to the folk in the capital. He'd joined a guild—a good thing, he felt. A choice he could live well with, perhaps. A step towards living the sort of life he could enjoy and be proud of.

Other parts of the journey were more complicated, troublesome, even disturbing. He'd murdered Ragou. No forgetting that. More than anything else, he felt...dirtied by the experience. He shouldn't have. It had been necessary. He'd saved lives. He'd killed an old, unarmed man. Oh, Ragou was a monster, sure as the mermen, but he was a sneaky, human one, and when he attacked, it wasn't directly or with weapons. He was a user and a killer and a coward, and Yuri still took no pride in the way he'd cut the man down.

Then, there was Cumore—always insufferable, but now revealed to be worse than Yuri had expected—and his cooperation with Yeager. Treason. Danger. More threads weaving a pattern that still wasn't entirely clear. He hoped Flynn would be able to uproot that particular mess and put an end to it.

Flynn. Another complication. It was almost funny to look at the parallels between them and the story that had been haunting his thoughts. Wasn't Flynn just like the boy that had run off to become a knight? Hadn't he always been coming back to the Lower Quarter, trying to save Yuri, trying to uproot him, to pluck him away from obscurity? Four years of Yuri being just another Lower Quarter troublemaker, no one special, no one that a respectable knight like Flynn ought to have been associating with, certainly. Now, here he was, free of the field and wandering the world but still completely unsuited to stand by Flynn's side. Joke was on Flynn for trying.

What was Flynn thinking lately, anyway? One day saying that Yuri didn't have the power to change anything because he wasn't a Knight, then turning around and admitting the same of himself. What was the uniform worth if it couldn't even protect people? Why couldn't Flynn have found a way before Yuri had dirtied his hands? Stupid to wonder about things like that. He'd made his choice, and there was no sense allowing himself to be bitter at Flynn over it. Flynn had no idea. Yuri hoped he would never find out, though realistically it was probably only a matter of time. He feared that day, for more reasons than he would allow himself to think about.

None of those snarls were even part of their current problem. The new guild Brave Vesperia was working for Estelle, trying to track down the monster, Phaeroh, that had appeared before her. There was more to Estelle than a kindhearted princess, that much had been apparent for some time. Now, it seemed there was more to her than even she knew.

Shaking his head, he got out of his bunk and headed up onto the deck, Repede at his side. No use thinking about everything that was going on when there wasn't anything he could do about it just then. A bit of hard work and maybe a fight would do him a lot more good.

Much later that night, with sleep stealing up upon him, drying his eyes and weighing down his limbs as he sat on his bunk, he listened tiredly as Raven regaled them with tall tales. He was reminded of that old story, and it tickled at his mind, fraying his focus even as the words came back to him, dreamlike in their clarity and leaving no room in his awareness for the waking world.

It wasn't a full day after her knight had left her side that the innkeeper's daughter was approached by a stranger newly come to town. This stranger arrived in a fine carriage. He wore silks and gold and gems, and spent freely of his wealth among the shops. It did not take him long to notice the innkeeper's beautiful daughter, nor to decide that he wished for her to be one more bit of glittering finery that he could show off. He proposed to her that very evening, but she firmly refused him. Though her words were not unkind, they stirred a darkness within him that could be seen in the cold glint of his eyes. He told the girl that he would return to ask her again the next night, and that it would go the better for her should she reconsider her answer.

The situation in Mantaic made him sick with fury. He'd once been a member of the Knights. He'd once believed that they could be a force for good!

He wondered, not for the first time, if anything good could come of Flynn remaining with the Knights. He'd been so quick to point out that Yuri had been powerless after leaving, but what could Flynn achieve in an organization so corrupt that an entire brigade could turn a town into hell without consequence? Flynn had been acting the dutiful soldier for so long that Yuri couldn't hold back all the fearsome doubts. Given the extent of the atrocities Cumore had ordered committed, someone must have known. Why hadn't he ever been stopped? Why hadn't Flynn stopped them?

What if Flynn had known?

The thought churned his stomach. It had been haunting him since before they'd arrived. No matter how many times he told himself it wasn't possible, that awful suspicion kept returning.

Either way, it was clear that help wasn't going to come from the empire. Yuri could see two paths open to him. He didn't have much choice over which to follow.

That night, as everyone got ready for bed, Yuri lay down knowing that, one way or another, Cumore would be stopped for good. He would see to it himself. He had the resolve. Hell, he'd done it already before. What difference would it make to dirty his hands with the blood of one more monster? After all, there was no one else he could count on to save the citizens of Mantaic.

He couldn't rely on Flynn.

The thought weighed on him, an insidious creature of his mind's devising that sat heavily on his chest, crushing him. Of all the burdens he had taken on, that was one he had never imagined possible. He had always relied on Flynn. Flynn was the good one, Flynn was the one who could be counted on. He was supposed to be the one who fixed things while Yuri spent his days trying to keep things from getting worse and worse in a hundred little, useless ways. Flynn was everybody's hope. He was supposed to have been Yuri's, too.

He'd told Flynn about Ragou, over and over, and still...! Rolling over, he curled in on himself in the darkness. His logical mind knew why Flynn hadn't been able to do anything more, but Yuri's heart cataloged it as a betrayal. Yet even still, he'd bloodied his hands. Though it had been his choice, made on behalf of the people at Ragou's mercy, he hated the situation that had laid such a burden at his feet to be picked up and carried with him for the rest of his days. He could still remember the noise Ragou had made, the way his breath had caught in his throat.

Necessary, he reminded himself. It was necessary.

Needing to escape his thoughts, if only for a little while, Yuri picked up the thread of the old story he'd begun to remember. He told it to himself as he waited for the others to fall asleep.

The girl would not let herself be bullied or intimidated, and she refused to hide from the stranger when he returned the next night. She looked him in the eye as he approached her and refused him even the tiniest smile. When he stood before her, he was displeased by her manner, and looked down on her as he spoke.

"Marry me," he said to her, "and you will be wealthy beyond your wildest dreams."

"I would not marry you for all the gold in the world," she replied.

"Marry me and I shall take you from this dismal town and you shall have a life of luxury in my grand palace."

"I would not marry you even if it would make me mistress of a hundred grand palaces."

"Once more I shall ask you, and once more only," he warned. "Marry me, and I shall pluck down the moon for you. I will make the stars rain from the sky and you shall wear them as diamonds."

"Once more I will tell you, and I tell you my answer shall not change. I will not marry you, not for wealth or comfort or aught else you have to offer me. There is coldness in your eyes, and I could never love one such as you."

Seething with rage, his contorted features resembled a demon more than a man. "I have given you a chance to consider my offer, and three chances to change your mind. Now, I shall give you cause to regret spurning me! From this day forth, you shall be cursed!"

In the next instant, he was gone, vanished before her eyes. The girl knew then that he was a wizard, and felt a tremor of fear. Her sleep that night was restless, and she woke before dawn still wondering what curse the wizard had laid upon her. She felt no different but, as the first rays of the sun shone over the horizon, the magic took effect.

The wizard had left her her awareness, and she found herself suddenly transformed into a pink, one among countless others, all as alike as grains of sand on the beach. As the curse knew her form, she knew the form of the curse and would have wept were she able. The nights would be hers as a human, but she would remain a flower during the day until a time came when someone who loved her could pluck her—and only her—from out among all the others.

The flowers rustled restlessly in the breeze, swaying like the waves of the sea. The storm was rolling in from all sides, boiling up over the surrounding mountains and slowly eclipsing the light. It rumbled ominously. There was not much time before the downpour would begin.

Yuri tried to slide his foot forward, but stopped when he saw stems bending beneath his boot. Carefully, carefully, he set his foot back down. He couldn't break any stems. Everything would be ruined if he did so before finding what was hidden in the field. All the same, he had to act quickly. He had to find the right flower before the storm broke.

A soft sound from the ground beside him was a drop of blood falling from his hand onto a petal. Hastily, he wiped his hands once more on the front of his shirt. It did no good. The blood continued to well up no matter how thoroughly he wiped his hands clean. There was no wound to bandage. He was marked. Staring down at the flower, he watched the droplet of blood ooze down the petal. It spread as it went, a red stain that ate into the flower and withered it, turning it into an ugly, tainted thing.

Upon hearing a soft patter, Yuri's heart leapt into his throat. Rain was starting to fall, a few, fat drops, as thick and red as the blood that dripped from his hands. Horrified, he watched as the same taint began to take hold around the far edges of the valley.

Time was running out.

Yuri woke with a start, heart pounding and any chance of getting back to sleep gone. Cautiously, he sat up and peered around the room. His friends all slept soundly. Outside, Mantaic was wrapped in the hours when the night was its thickest. Drawing a breath, he found his resolve once more and reached for his sword.

It was time Cumore faced what justice was left to him.

Estelle knew what he'd done. It was a lot for her to take in, and Yuri caught her watching him every now and again. At least she hadn't abandoned him yet.

No. He couldn't think like that. It wasn't right to expect her to continue traveling with him after what he had done. He was lucky that she had even given him a chance while she thought it over.

He hadn't wanted her to know. Hadn't wanted any of them to find out, but that was just more selfishness. They had a right to know that they were traveling with a murderer. They would probably learn the truth soon enough, and Yuri knew that he ought to tell them himself before circumstance did it for him, but he couldn't bring himself to confess. Every time he had almost worked up the nerve, a little voice pleaded for one more day, just one, give it just a bit more time, let the journey go on for just a little longer. He gave in each time and held his peace. His friends had come to mean as much to him as the people of the Lower Quarter. He feared losing them, but he had made his choices and there was nothing he could do to avoid the consequences forever.

At night, as they rested on their way back to Nordopolica, he gazed up at the stars and thought about the journey, about the friends he had made and the amazing things he had seen. He thought about how strong he'd grown and how many battles he'd fought. He thought about enemies and the blood on his hands.

He also listened. Estelle was a treasure trove of stories, and she spent as much time as all the rest of them entertaining the group. She happened to know the story of the girl who had been turned into a pink, though her version was a bit different. The way she told it, the girl had been a princess cursed by a envious witch. The core of the story was the same, though Yuri liked the version in his memory better. Still, he listened as she told it. The sound of her voice helped him get to sleep at night.

"When the king learned of the princess's curse, he sent messengers far and wide to bring back someone who could love his daughter enough that he would be able to see past her form and find her in that vast field of flowers. The princess had little hope for such a solution, because her dearest love had long since set out in order to do great deeds and distinguish himself as a knight in order that he would be worthy of her hand. He had been gone for more than a year, however, and she feared that he had perished during his quest, for she had received no word from him in that whole time.

"Her nights were spent under study of the palace physicians and magicians, none of which could find a way to cure her or break the curse. They poked and prodded and questioned until she couldn't take it anymore and sought solace alone in her room or with the king. She pleaded with him to try and find her—for shouldn't a father's love be strong enough?—but he could not tell her apart in the field, and would not risk picking the wrong flower and leaving her changed permanently.

"Though she struggled not to lose heart, the princess began to fear that she would never be free of the curse."

As he raced with his friends through the streets of Nordopolica, revelations that only spawned more questions tumbled through Yuri's head. Entelexia, apatheia, Estelle's power, and the Empire's ambition. They were all tied in together, and it was obvious that something was very, very wrong. Caught up in trying to piece it all together into a whole that he could understand, he was unprepared to find Flynn waiting for him at the docks.

Yuri skidded to a stop. A couple of the others slammed into him from behind, making him sway forward. He threw out his hands, trying to keep his balance, trying to keep them back because he dreaded what Flynn might say. He had wasted too much time savoring his new friendships before he had to risk losing them to the truth. Flynn was going to speak up first. He'd always beaten Yuri at everything else. Why not this, too?

"Return Lady Estellise and the stone."

His manner was cold as he said it, the spitting image of every knight that had ever looked straight through Yuri because he was nothing but Lower Quarter trash, just one more troublemaker running around causing problems. Yuri could barely stand to look at him so wound up in the Empire's shady schemes. He could barely stand the pain of seeing Flynn look at him that way.

There was a confrontation coming. Yuri knew it even before Flynn repeated his demand, even before he put his hand to his sword. He saw it in Flynn's expression, in the way he had squared his shoulders when their eyes met. Yuri had never wanted to run from a fight so badly in his life. It wasn't even losing that he feared, but what would be revealed if he got into it with Flynn in front of his friends. He couldn't let this go, though. Flynn had gone too far.

"Just what the hell are you doing?" He ignored the arrival of Sodia and Witcher as they came to back up their boss. "Using the military to get control of the city? That's taking things a bit far. Maybe you're carrying out your 'duty,' but you can't just go around doing everything by force."

The hypocrisy wasn't lost on him, but its sting didn't much matter. He'd already dirtied his hands. Whatever tattered honor was left to him would be devoted to making sure that Flynn didn't come out of this mess stained. If he would just open his eyes and pay attention to what was going on under the surface...!

"Captain, awaiting orders!"

Sodia was glaring. She wanted to rush him, shut him up, clap him in irons, maybe get a few hits in while he couldn't fight back the Knight were all the same. Flynn, though, Flynn was hesitating, and Yuri pressed on desperately.

"I thought you were with the Knights to change things like that. I don't know why I'm the one who has to be saying this stuff. You know it full well yourself."

"I..."

"Cat got your tongue?" See it, Flynn. Look at me and see what you're becoming! "I mean, how's this any different from what I've come to expect from the empire? Are you gonna follow Ragou and Cumore's examples?"

"If I did, would you just kill me as well? Would you do away with me like you did Ragou and Cumore?"

He'd known it was coming. It wasn't as if he'd left Flynn any choice. It still hit him as solid and painful as a punch to the gut. Until he actually heard the words, until he heard Karol's gasp, sharp as a knife to the heart, he hadn't entirely believed Flynn would betray him like that. Hurt and anger over the attack surged through him, and he had to remind himself that it wasn't any fault of Flynn's. He had chosen his path, he had chosen to hide it, and he had forced Flynn to reveal that secret. Better it was all out in the open, anyway. He was what he had become, and he would continue down that path as far as was necessary to protect people...no matter if the friends he'd made praised him or hated him.

The only question he had left was: What was Flynn becoming? Yuri hoped it was merely blind obedience that drove him. He could be cured of that if he would just open his eyes and look at what was going on. If true loyalty motivated him, it would spell an end to their friendship. If Flynn could look at what the Knights had become, if he could see all the damage they were doing in the name of carrying out mysterious orders and still remain loyal to those in power, then there was no doubt in Yuri's mind that they would cross swords as enemies one day soon.

He only hoped that he would be strong enough to save Flynn from himself.

Rita saved him, bless her. She broke right into the middle of the stalemate, reminding him that they had to get out of the city. He took off with his friends, leaving Flynn standing still and mute while his subordinates awaited orders. Yuri only hoped that, when those orders came, they would be the right ones.

His legs were shaking as he boarded the Fiertia. It had taken more strength than he had expected to face up to those fears that had been lurking in the back of his mind: the fear that Flynn might no longer be the person Yuri had grown up with; that his time with the Knights might have changed him, made him into one of those who abused their power under orders or simply because they could. He didn't want to believe it was even possible, but he still didn't understand exactly what was going on or what Flynn was fighting for. It was one more burden he'd never wanted to carry.

He caught Karol staring at him. The betrayal in the boy's expression was too much, and Yuri turned away, searching for a task to give him an excuse to flee. The look in Karol's eyes had hit too close to home. The time had come to pay the price for his choices.

It was quiet. It was eerily, unnervingly quiet after all the noise and chaos that had been the fight to retake the city and save Estelle. There was still a great deal to do. There was still endless movement, marching, charging, clanking, but all of that felt far away. Flynn's room was dim and still, a little corner of the past ripped out of time and brought forward to hold them and give them a space to rest amid the change. It had allowed them a place to talk for a moment. Flynn had been working up to something, an expression of gratitude for some of the things Yuri had done. It was just as well he hadn't quite gotten there. Yuri wouldn't have accepted it, though the offer meant more to him than he felt he could ever say.

Sodia was there, standing quietly at attention by Flynn's side after having burst in with news of his promotion. She was a good knight, probably. Flynn had reaffirmed Yuri's faith in him, at the end. He wouldn't keep a dishonorable knight at his side. He would rise to this challenge, this opportunity. He would fix things. Yuri pinned that belief to his heart. Flynn had always been the better of them.

He smiled, though it felt tremulous. This journey he had started on had been wild from the start, and it wasn't quite over yet. He looked forward to being able to rest.

A thought struck him as he was turning to go. He wished Sodia wasn't there to overhear, but...

"Hey, Flynn? Do you remember that story your mom used to tell?" Or had it been Hanks' wife? He'd been too sick to remember the storyteller behind the tale that had woven itself into his fever dreams. "It was the one about the girl who turned into a flower during the day. She was cursed. Her lover came home and was told that he'd have to pick her out of a whole field of flowers to break the curse. All the flowers looked alike, though, and he..." Yuri trailed off as he saw confusion spread over Flynn's face.

"I don't remember that story. Are you sure it was my mother that told you?"

"Nah. Not really. Never mind."

He was almost out the door before Flynn asked him why, and he paused on the threshold.

"No reason. I've just been thinking about it lately. I can't remember how it ends—you know, how he figures out which flower is the girl."

"I...have no idea. Perhaps Lady Estellise—"

Yuri waved off the suggestion. "It's fine. It doesn't matter. Good night."

"Good night, Yuri."

The words barely escaped before he closed the door behind himself. He was exhausted, but he wasn't the only one who'd had a long day. The knowledge that he wouldn't be able to sleep until after checking on the others got him moving. Just a little longer, and he'd be able to rest for a little while. Tomorrow would bring Alexei's reckoning and, Yuri suspected, his own.

The mountains drank in the rain that fell upon them and darkened to the color of old blood. The flowers clinging to the rocky soil at their feet withered before his eyes. Without taking a step, he turned this way and that, but saw the same no matter where he looked. The storm was closing in over the valley from all sides, raining its poison down upon the once luminous flowers.

As the wind picked up, Yuri's ears began playing tricks on him. Voices seemed to whisper in the rustling of the leaves, in the very rush of the air past his ears. They were sharp and haughty, accusing, laughing, hissing, hinting. They crept up upon him to whisper his own worst secrets into his ears. He whipped around, trying to catch a glimpse of the speakers, but he was alone in the valley. Alone, and running out of time.

He still had to find the flower, still had to pluck it free and protect it from the withering rain. He had one chance, one chance in a hundred thousand, a fragile thread of hope as mocking as the thunder that rumbled like laughter overhead.

The whispers grew in volume. Something stirred around his boots, and Yuri looked down.

The blood hadn't stopped welling from his hands. His shirt was soaked with it. It dripped from the hem, ran down his legs, fell from the tips of his fingers. He watched it splatter over the flowers, corrupting them as surely as the rain. They blackened and wrinkled, grew thick and fleshy. Their roots rose above the soil as if trying to escape the poison seeping down below the surface. They writhed, a rank, hissing carpet of rot and decay that left him staggering back in horror.

White blossoms were trampled beneath Yuri's boots. The blood on his hands fell, eating into them like acid. He had to find the flower he needed to pick. He had to pluck it from this nightmare...!

The flowers of the field swayed in the wind. They were pale and lifeless, their color and vitality sapped by the shadows of the storm clouds. Then—a glimmer! A single, bright flower, alight with hope when all the others had faded.

Yuri turned toward it so fast that he stumbled. His heel dug into the soft earth, into the mud of blood and dirt and rotting petals. Stems and roots reached out to hold him back. Petals latched onto his legs and refused to let go. He tore free, but the flowers reached for him in waves, blackened by the storm, by his own corruption, maddened, and hungry. Flowers were crushed under his boots as he ran, leaves and petals were torn free and tossed to the furious wind. Struggling against earth that gave way beneath his feet, against roots that tried to drag him down, Yuri fought to reach the flower, grasping for it even as he lost his footing and went crashing to the ground.

Yuri woke with the sensation of falling. The mattress beneath him shuddered along with the illusion. He lay still on his stomach, gulping air and trying to regain his bearings. Accustomed now to waking up in unfamiliar beds, it took him several long moments to remember that he had been given a room to stay in at the palace. With that realization, the rest of the situation came flooding back to him to wash the dream away. Today, they would follow Alexei to Zaude. Yuri would have a shot at retribution and, maybe, the world would see some justice.

He smiled into his pillow, then rolled aside and leapt from the bed. Crossing to the window, he flung it open and took a deep breath of the chill, predawn air. He felt energized, eager for the fight to come. He felt like he could take on the whole damn world.

The ending of the story had come back to him in those first, breathless moments of wakefulness. It felt like a sign. For weeks, he'd been questioning himself, fearing the price he might have to pay, feeling weak with relief when his friends hadn't turned their backs on him. It had felt like he had lost part of his identity, but Yuri was certain that the battle against Alexei would help him reclaim it. He wouldn't be fighting alone. His friends would be there at his side. And afterward, when it was all over, maybe then he would be at peace with himself at last.

Yuri grinned out over the city. Things would be better, soon. After Zaude, he would know where he stood.

As he let himself fall back onto the ground, Yuri couldn't stop smiling. He was exhausted—had been since he'd woken up in his bed with a gash in his side and a gap in his memory—but now, here, with Flynn at his side and the sun warming his face it was the sort of exhaustion that made him want to relax and sleep. That other, that cold weariness, that had been fear and anger. It had driven him on until he'd found his way back to Flynn and begun feeling a bit more like his old self and not so much like he had to act the part of Yuri Lowell.

Laughter forced its way up between his gasping breaths, rough and broken, but full of relief and not to be denied. The heaviness that had weighed his heart was gone. He was alive and forgiven. He was equal. He was accepted.

Flynn glanced at him, mouth hanging open as he panted. A moment of eye contact was enough for the laughter to spread to him. Even squinted near shut, the blue of his eyes was stunning. He should laugh more often, Yuri thought. Laugh lines would suit his face as he aged. Yuri could see the gap between his two front teeth, the faint sprinkling of freckles across his nose that meant he'd barely been out of the sun for days. There was no judgment in Flynn's face, no anger, no disappointment. It was the brightest moment they had shared in years. Yuri turned his face back up to the sun, scrunching his eyes shut against its light. He savored the moment and the faint sense of warmth along the back of his hand where it rested practically right up against Flynn's.

Who would have thought he'd be given a second chance like this?

They raised their swords. They talked of paths and promises. Hardships had made them grow stronger, had sharpened their convictions into the blades that would cut a new path for the world. Talking with Flynn in an empty field outside a town so new that people were still arguing over the name, Yuri felt at home in a way he hadn't for years. The fight wasn't finished yet, they still had the Adephagos to contend with, but Flynn was on his path, golden and just, and Yuri had found himself and knew that he wouldn't be lost so easily again.

The story came back to him once more, and he had a smile for the ending. Inside, safe and sound. That was the key, that was how the knight had found his lady. She'd been inside out of the cold, protected from the frost that melted to dew and then faded away beneath the sun. Yuri lifted a hand over his heart and curled his fingers in as if he could capture the feeling that had waited there to be acknowledged. He felt free. He felt like he could do anything.

"Hey."

He waited until Flynn was focused completely on him, waited until his grin had grown so large it felt like it might split his face. He was still soaring high after the fight. The world was still bright-edged with victorious giddiness. Words took form within him, creating themselves from feelings he'd carried for years. In all the best fights, all the battles that made him feel most alive, there was a recklessness that took hold of him to guide his movements as if on instinct. Yuri felt it surging through him in that moment, carrying the words like foam upon the tide. He let his heart pour forth.

"I love you."

He watched Flynn go still, watched his eyes grow wide. The blood that rushed into his cheeks made the blue of his irises even more vivid. Yuri watched his mouth fall open, watched his jaw move in search of words that had abandoned him. The sight of him stunned speechless was inexplicably hilarious, and Yuri let his head loll on the grass as he laughed, though he hadn't been joking.

He wasn't sure what Flynn would make of his confession, but that was okay, at least for the time being. It had been an incredible few months, and it wasn't over yet, not with that monster stretching over the sky. Yuri figured he could wait. It would give him one more thing to come back for.

Though Flynn didn't give him an answer, when he stood up, he reached out for Yuri's hand. And even though Yuri had won, even though ending like this with Flynn helping him up out of the grass and dirt was exactly the same way they'd always ended their fights back when Yuri could never win...it felt right. He smiled at Flynn as they brushed ineffectually at their clothes, and his heart must have shown itself in the expression because Flynn's cheeks pinked again, and he dropped his gaze.

"Were you serious?" he asked quietly.

"Aren't I always?"

He couldn't resist teasing, but Flynn looked up at him, gaze steady, though his face remained flushed. Then, with a little smile that made Yuri's heart skip a beat, he nodded shortly. They returned to town and parted ways, each to his own circle of comrades until circumstance or necessity would bring them together again before the final battle.

That night, for the first time since Zaude, Yuri's dreams held no trace of the crypt-cold ocean.

The flower at his feet was radiant. Yuri stared at it, hesitating in reach of his goal. He held his trembling, bloodied hands carefully away from its petals, afraid to stain it at the last. The flower had to be picked. It couldn't be allowed to remain in the field, slowly dying of corruption. Even so, he was afraid.

All around him, the storm raged in eerie silence. The red, poisonous rain continued to fall, closing in around him. The flowers it soaked became twisted and fierce. It would consume everything, even what Yuri had spent so long searching for.

To touch the flower was to taint it. To hesitate was to condemn it.

Reaching down with bloodstained fingers, Yuri plucked a spark of light from a dying world. He gasped as its light flared, burning away the darkness and the storm and the entirety of the valley meadow.

He woke with a smile on his lips and sunshine pouring down over his face.