Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“ Loid , do you have a minute?”

Loid looked up from his newspaper. “Yes, Yor?”

It was a quiet Friday evening. After a long, draining week, the Forger family were enjoying a rare moment of peace in the living room. Loid appeared calm and collected, immersed in the headlines , but Twilight , the spy within, was processing updates for his latest mission.

Across the room, Anya and Bond were curled up in front of the TV, completely absorbed in the newest episode of Spy Wars .

“I’ve been called in for work,” Yor said, clasping her hands in front of her. “The city hall is planning a wildlife conservation act, so a few of us are going to the forest for a two-day survey. I’ll be back by Sunday evening.”

I can’t tell Loid I’m actually hunting poachers… That would be… problematic , Yor thought anxiously.

“I see,” Loid replied, setting the paper down. “Make sure to take a first-aid kit, just in case. But I know you’ll be fine—you’re strong and capable. Just stay safe.”

"I need her to stay unharmed. For Anya’s stability and my mission, of course," thought Loid .

Yor flushed slightly but forced a smile. “Thank you, Loid . I’ll be leaving early tomorrow morning.”

“Whoa! Mama is going on an assassin mission! Waku waku!”

Anya’s eyes twinkled with excitement, having picked up her mother’s real thoughts.

Yor knelt beside Anya and hugged her tightly. “Anya, please be a good girl, alright? I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Oui!”

Sunday – 8:45 PM

The front door creaked open.

“Mama!!” Anya zoomed to the entrance with a cheerful shriek.

Yor had barely set down her bag and coat before Anya wrapped herself around her leg. Smiling through her fatigue, Yor crouched down and scooped her daughter into a warm embrace, peppering her with gentle kisses.

“Welcome home, Yor,” Loid said, stepping forward to take her coat. “How was the trip? Did you eat? I can warm something up for you if you’re hungry.”

Yor smiled, tired, but grateful. “I’d appreciate that, Loid . Let me just freshen up quickly.”

“Oh, and—”

Before he could finish, Yor stepped closer. With trembling hands, she gently cupped his face, stood on her tiptoes, and pressed the lightest kiss to his cheek.

It lasted no more than a second and a half.

And then—she bolted to her room, face ablaze, and slammed the door shut behind her.

Loid stood completely frozen.

“…Huh?”

His mind kicked into overdrive, processing the moment like a mission gone wrong. What was the intent? Could this signal romantic interest? Or did something happen on her trip?

He touched the spot on his cheek where her lips had landed. It tingled faintly. The warmth lingered long after she’d gone.

From across the room, Anya peeked over the couch, lips curled into a smug little grin.

Loid cleared his throat, snapping out of his trance. “Anya, it’s bedtime. You have school tomorrow.”

“Can I watch for just a few more minutes? Pweaaaase ?”

“No. You’ve already stayed up later than usual. Those big eyes won’t work this time, young lady.” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Let’s go.”

After tucking Anya into bed, Loid approached Yor’s room and knocked gently.

“Yor? Are you alright? I warmed up dinner for you.”

“I-I’ll be out in a m-minute , L-Loid,” came the muffled reply.

Why is my chest fluttering? Exhaustion… definitely exhaustion. That’s all it is.

The door finally creaked open.

She stood there, eyes wide, face-to-chest with him. Her cheeks were practically glowing crimson, a perfect match for her sweater. Loid coughed and stepped aside, gesturing toward the dining table.

Dinner was quiet. Painfully quiet.

Yor fidgeted with her spoon, eyes darting anywhere but toward him. The blush on her face refused to fade. Loid kept clearing his throat, unsure what to say or how to say it.

Finally, they both spoke at once.

“ Loid , I—”

“Yor, I—”

“You first,” he said gently.

Yor hesitated. Her knuckles whitened around her spoon.

“I… I’m sorry for earlier. It was completely inappropriate,” she said, voice trembling.

She looked down, shoulders tense.

“My coworkers were gossiping about how wives greet their husbands with a kiss when they come home. They said it’s normal. S-So I thought… maybe I could be a more normal wife to you .”

Tears pricked her eyes.

“But I didn’t ask. I just did it. And I know our relationship isn’t like that. I crossed a boundary. If you want to end this arrangement or… d-divorce me , I understand . I’ll pack my things. I ruined it, didn’t I?”

Tears spilled over, and she covered her face in shame.

Stupid, stupid! What if he hates me now? What if I reminded him of his first wife? What if—

Loid moved before he could stop himself.

He gently took her wrists and lowered her hands, revealing her tear-streaked face.

“Hey. Look at me.”

His voice was calm and soft, gentler than she had ever heard it . His cerulean eyes met hers, full of something she couldn’t name.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Yor. Not one thing.”

He reached up and brushed away a tear with his thumb.

“You were trying to do something kind. And normal. And sweet. You’re already perfect as you are. Please… don’t feel like you need to be anything else.”

Yor blinked rapidly, lips quivering. She shyly leaned into his touch, heart hammering in her chest. His hand was warm and steady, but he was blushing, too. His ears were a light pink.

Loid dropped his hand abruptly, suddenly aware of the closeness. The warmth faded instantly, and he found himself missing it.

“A-And… about the kiss,” he added quietly. “I didn’t mind it. Not at all.”

Yor stared, stunned.

“It caught me off guard, yes— but it wasn’t… unwelcome.”

It’s good for the cover and strengthens our image. He told himself.

Yor could only stare at him, lips slightly parted, mind blank from the overload of emotion and embarrassment.

Loid coughed again and looked at the clock. “It’s getting late. We should both get some rest.”

Yor nodded slowly, eyes still locked on him. “R-right. Of course.”

Oh god! This woman never failed to surprise him.

Chapter Text

The following week passed without incident, well, not one involving spy missions or assassin work, at least. But something still lingered in the air. Something soft and fragile. A little too noticeable.
It was the kiss on the cheek.
Yor and Loid hadn’t brought it up again, at least not directly. But something had shifted.
Loid found himself glancing at Yor more often when she was in the kitchen. Not in suspicion, but just out of curiosity. Admiration, maybe. An emotion he didn’t dare label. Yor, meanwhile, was still plagued by the memory of that impulsive kiss, half-embarrassed, half-longing.

That Saturday, the weather was surprisingly warm and gentle, unlike the usual harsh chill of Berlint. Flowers had started to bud early in the city parks, and Anya had all but begged for a family outing.
“Pwease, let’s go out!! A picnic! Like in the cartoons!”
Loid had hesitated; he had paperwork to finish and missions to prepare. But Yor had smiled, just a little too brightly, and said, “It might be good to spend some time as a family.”
He had agreed before he could think of a reason not to.
They found a quiet spot beneath a broad cherry tree in full bloom, away from the bustling trails. Bond rolled happily in the grass while Anya darted through wildflower patches, arms spread like aeroplane wings.
Loid had packed a modest basket of simple sandwiches, fruits, and bottled juice. Yor had added a small thermos of herbal tea.
As they settled on the blanket, the sunlight filtered gently through the tree’s pink canopy. A gentle breeze rustled Yor's hair, and Loid found himself staring again. She seemed like an illusion of a forgotten dream. The atmosphere between them was peaceful and delicate. They talked casually about Anya’s schoolwork, the new gardening initiative at city hall, the renovations at the hospital, and a strange cartoon Anya had seen that made no sense. The conversation was light, but every shared laugh echoed with something tender.
Something dangerous in its sweetness.
As the sun dipped lower, they began to pack up slowly. Yor leaned down to collect the empty boxes, reaching for the small cloth that had covered the food.
Loid reached for it at the same time.
Their hands brushed.
Yor’s breath caught. “S-sorry!” she squeaked, snatching her hand back like she’d touched something burning.
But Loid didn’t move.
Instead, he reached forward and gently took her hand in his.
Yor froze.
Her heart stilled. Her mind emptied. Her fingers trembled slightly inside his gloved grasp.
Without a word, Loid turned her palm slightly upward. His movements were slow and delicate, as if he were handling something precious. Then, in one smooth motion, he brought his lips to the back of her hand.
A kiss. Soft, light, and sincere.
Time stilled with it.

When he pulled back, there was a flicker of pink blooming across his ears, and he cleared his throat faintly.
“I just wanted to thank you,” he said, his voice lower, quieter beneath the rustling trees. “For today. For everything. It was… nice.”Yor’s eyes were wide. Her voice was barely above a whisper. “Y-you’re welcome…”
She felt the warmth of his lips still lingering against her skin, like a phantom imprint. Her hand remained lifted even as he let go, fingertips curling slightly, uncertain whether to hide it or hold onto the moment.
Neither of them noticed Anya peeking from behind the tree trunk nearby, wide-eyed. She didn’t say anything. Not yet. She grinned.
As they walked home, Anya skipped ahead with Bond bounding behind her, and Loid and Yor stayed side by side.
Yor occasionally stole glances at her hand and smiled softly to herself, her cheeks still warm.
Loid kept his hands in his coat pockets, his mind racing far faster than he liked. He told himself it was for the mission. A gesture to maintain appearances. A convincing display and nothing more.
But he couldn’t shake the feel of her skin beneath his lips.
Neither of them spoke of it again.
But both of them thought about it. A lot.

Chapter Text

Yor adjusted the grocery bag on her arm and turned a corner of the bustling market, hoping to make it home before Anya noticed the delay.

That’s when she saw him.

Near a vendor selling fresh vegetables was Hemlock, standing lean, sharp-eyed, arms crossed, his silver hair down, and wearing a smirk that never meant anything good.

Yor froze.

He stepped forward casually, hands in his long black coat pockets, voice low. “Running errands now, are we? Never thought I’d find you among cabbage and carrots.”

“Hemlock…” she said cautiously, her voice barely above a whisper. “This isn’t a good place. What are you doing here?”

He looked around theatrically. “What? Can’t two acquaintances catch up? I was in the area. Thought I’d see how domestic bliss was treating you.”

Yor’s smile twitched. “I’m just here for groceries. That’s all.”

He raised an eyebrow. “And is that what life is now? Vegetables and small talk? Seems you’ve gone soft.”

Yor clenched the grocery bag tighter. “That’s not true. I’m just living differently. It doesn’t mean I’ve changed who I am.”

He let out a quiet laugh, but it had no humor. “You always were stubborn. But you know how fragile façades can be. One wrong step and snap everything shatters.”

Tell me, how many enemies have you sliced this week? Or are you too busy folding laundry and crying into your husband’s arms?”

Yor’s cheeks turned pink. “T-That’s not—! I don’t cry in his arms!"

Hemlock raised an eyebrow.

“I’m doing this of my own will,” she said, standing straighter. “Protecting this family is my duty too.”

“Hm.” He leaned in slightly. “Looks like the family's made you soft.”

She kept her voice low, her smile practiced. “You lost, remember?”

His eyes flickered. “Did I?”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Two weeks ago-

During their hunt for poachers in the jungle, they’d faced off. Yor in controlled fury, Hemlock in overconfidence.

“You’re hesitating Thorn Princess,” he’d said, circling her. “That fake family has made you sentimental. You’re slower.”

But she hadn’t hesitated. She’d parried his blade with graceful precision, attacked him with her stilettos, and sent a rock flying towards his forehead before he could recover.

“I’m faster,” she’d replied. “Because I have something worth protecting now.”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Then, with the worst timing imaginable, another voice joined the scene.

“Yor?”

Her heart nearly stopped.

Loid Forger was approaching from across the street, briefcase in hand, a hint of concern on his face. His golden hair was tousled slightly from the wind, and he looked, as always, frustratingly composed.

“Loid!” Yor said a bit too loudly.

Loid paused beside her, his gaze quickly scanning Hemlock from head to toe. “Friend of yours?”

Yor nodded quickly. “Yes uh, a childhood friend. We lived on the same street when we were young and just bumped into each other now.”

Loid extended a hand, polite but firm. “Loid Forger. Husband.”

Hemlock returned the shake, his grip dry but too long. He tilted his head, looking between them. “It’s always interesting, seeing someone you used to know change. Some people thrive in their new roles. Others pretend.”

Loid’s eyes narrowed just slightly, his smile never fading. “Change is necessary. Adaptation keeps people alive. Or together.”

Yor’s heart was pounding. She could practically feel the weight of Loid’s analysis happening. She had to end this.

“Well, it was nice seeing you,” she said quickly. “But we need to get going. Our daughter's waiting.”

Hemlock stepped back with a faint bow. “Of course. I’ll leave you two to your charming domestic life.”

On the way home, Loid glanced at Yor several times. She was oddly quiet, her grip on the grocery bag tense.

He finally broke the silence. “That man, are you two close?”

Yor blinked. “What?! No!” She gave a soft, embarrassed laugh. “Of course not. He’s just old history."

Loid nodded. He didn’t show it, but the strange warmth that spread through his chest told him something else. Still, he filed it under potential threat to Operation Strix. He’d have Franky run a background check tonight.

Yor could sense the quiet tension radiating from Loid beside her. His polite facade remained intact, but she noticed his jaw tightening slightly and his gaze wandering toward where Hemlock had disappeared.

He seems annoyed, she thought. Was it something Hemlock said? Or…

Her heart skipped.

Could he have been jealous?

The thought made her cheeks burn instantly. She shook her head.

No. No, no, no. That’s ridiculous. We’re only married for appearances. That’s all.

She cast a sidelong glance at Loid, who was walking beside her with perfect posture.

Still… he did seem a little stiff. And the way he stepped in, all calm but cold...

She bit her lip.

Don’t be silly, Yor! He was probably just being protective. That’s all this is.

And yet, the image of Loid narrowing his eyes at Hemlock, his voice clipped and his handshake firm, stayed with her.

Their footsteps echoed in sync on the cobbled street, neither speaking, though the silence wasn’t empty. It pulsed thick with questions, observations left unsaid, and emotions neither fully understood.

Yor clutched the grocery bag, her eyes flicking to Loid's face. He was standing a little too close. Or maybe she was. Perhaps neither of them wanted to admit it.

Then, just barely their fingers brushed.

She stiffened. He glanced sideways. Nothing was said.

It happened again. A ghost of a touch. Delicate and unintentional maybe.

Yor's heart skipped.

Oh no…

Then deliberately this time Loid’s pinky brushed against hers.

Yor’s breath caught in her throat. Her blush deepened, blooming like spilled ink across her cheeks. Yet she didn’t pull away.

Instead, she let her hand stay where it was, so close and so still. A heartbeat passed. Then another. And gently, cautiously, Loid’s hand enclosed hers.

Her entire body tensed at the contact. Not because she disliked it.

Quite the opposite.

His hand was much larger than hers; it felt cool to the touch yet firm and comforting. She was accustomed to holding weapons, not hands. Yet, this felt right. Her soft fingers instinctively curled into his.

His hand is cold… Is he nervous too? He doesn't like me that way. No, no… It’s just to keep up appearances… Yes, that’s all this is.

But the way he held her securely, without hesitation, sent her thoughts spiraling.

Loid, meanwhile, stared straight ahead, his expression unreadable. But inwardly, his mind was racing.

Why does this feel so natural? It’s just for cover. That’s all. This is necessary for the success of Operation Strix. Then why does her hand fit so perfectly in mine?

Yor turned her head slightly, stealing a glance up at him.

Her face burned. She quickly looked away, pretending to study the cobblestones beneath her feet. Her heart was hammering louder than her footsteps.

Loid noticed the motion, the quick turn of her head, and the colour blooming across her cheeks. He said nothing. Instead, he gently squeezed her hand.

The touch was subtle, but it sent a shiver down her spine. Her eyes widened slightly, and she felt a warm sensation spreading throughout her arm.

She hesitated For a brief moment, uncertain of its meaning and what she wanted it to signify. But before her thoughts could spiral again, her fingers closed around his , tentative at first , then firmer. It was a reluctant, wordless reply.

Loid didn’t look at her, but he registered the squeeze. He felt it like a pulse, soft and unsure, but very real.

He swallowed lightly.

This is for the mission, he told himself. We’re supposed to look like a loving couple. That’s all this is.

Neither let go.

They walked like that all the way home two secret lives entangled by fate, their fingers intertwined in silence, each pretending not to notice how desperately they didn’t want to let go.

Chapter Text

It started with an unexpected invitation.

Camilla had cornered Yor at city hall earlier in the week, a little too smug for someone being “friendly.”

"A—A double date?!"

“Yes,” Camilla had said with a dramatic sigh. “You and your fancy doctor husband, me and Dom. Just a nice evening out. Unless you’re afraid to look too happy in public…”

Yor’s pride and panic forced her to agree.

When she told Loid, he only raised a brow.

“A double date? With Camilla?”

“I—I’m sorry! I know it’s sudden, and I know it’s difficult with your schedule, but she insisted, and it’s good for appearances, and if we turn her down it might look suspicious—!”

Loid held up a hand, calm and collected as always.

“I’m more than happy to adjust the schedule, Yor."

Anya had been bribed with peanuts that evening and left in Franky’s care for the night. Of course, the informant was paid with a hefty sum.

That left just Loid and Yor… alone.

Yor had dressed up, not for the appearances, not for Camilla, and definitely not for Loid.

Okay… maybe a little for Loid.

"Whoa,” Franky had muttered under his breath.

“Whoaaaa, Mama looks like a PRINCESS!!” Anya had shouted from the couch, eyes wide and sparkling.

Yor, standing in the hallway, turned pinker than her dress. “O-oh, n-no, it’s not that fancy..!”

She wore a soft pastel pink tea dress with delicate floral lace trim and a flowing skirt that hit just below her knees. Her usual braid had been replaced with loose hair that cascaded gently down her shoulders, and she had applied a light touch of makeup, just enough to bring a healthy glow to her cheeks. Her lips shimmered with rose-petal lip gloss.

She had stared at the mirror before leaving, hoping it wasn’t too much.

Loid had nearly dropped his cufflinks when he saw her.

“You look—” he had paused, cleared his throat, and reset his expression into a soft smile. “Very lovely tonight, Yor.”

“T-thank you,” she had squeaked, fidgeting with her purse. “You look nice too. Umm..really nice.”

And he did.

Loid had donned a dark navy suit paired with a crisp white shirt, and his tie was flawlessly knotted. He was, quite unfairly, the picture of charm.

Yor had tried very hard not to stare at him.

Now, under the dim golden lights of one of the elegant restaurants in the district, Yor was doing everything in her power not to pass out from sheer anxiety.

The restaurant smelled like butter, herbs, and faint wine. The soft hum of conversation and the gentle clinking of glasses created a cozy atmosphere around their booth. Faded watercolor paintings and trailing ivy adorned the walls, and candles flickered on every table.

Camilla and Dominic waved from their booth. “There they are!”

“You’re late,” Camilla teased, sipping her wine. “Let me guess... couldn’t keep your hands off each other?”

Yor nearly walked into a waiter. “N-no!! W-we were just getting ready!”

Loid gave a polite smile. “Sorry, Anya staged a full-scale protest when we tried to leave without her. We had to convince our daughter that we wouldn't be gone for too long.”

They sat, exchanged pleasantries, and browsed the menus. When the waiter arrived, Camilla and Dominic ordered wine. Yor opened her mouth, but Loid touched her wrist lightly under the table.

“Maybe stick with water tonight,” he murmured.

Yor blinked. “R-right. Good idea…”

Camilla raised a brow. “What’s the whispering about?”

“Nothing,” they both said too quickly.

Across from them, Camilla and Dominic sat comfortably close. Dominic had his arm resting on the back of Camilla’s chair, and she was enjoying the chance to play smug.

Next to Yor, Loid sat composed as ever, casually scanning the menu like he hadn’t just been forced into a civilian charade with high emotional stakes.

Camilla had already started her teasing before the appetisers even arrived.

“So, how long have you two lovebirds been together now?” she asked, swirling her drink.

“Uh—ah—w-we’ve been… married for over a year now,” Yor replied, clutching her napkin like a lifeline.

“Mhm”, Camilla said, a sly grin forming. “You two look more like newlyweds than married for months.”

Yor’s knee bumped against Loid's under the table. She wasn’t sure if it was panic, protest, or both.

Dominic was kind and calm as always, but Camilla was relentless.

“So, Loid,” she said between sips of wine. “What’s your favourite thing about Yor?”

Yor nearly dropped her fork.

Loid blinked. The question wasn’t difficult; he was trained to handle interrogation. But for a second, the mission files in his head came up blank.

What did he like about Yor?

“She’s… very dedicated,” he said finally. “To her work, her family. To being a good mother and wife. She puts others before herself, even when she’s tired. It’s admirable.”

Yor stared at her plate, face flushed. “Th-thank you…”

Camilla gave a dry laugh. “Seriously, Yor? One nice sentence and you're melting like a schoolgirl. It's a miracle you landed someone like him at all.”

Loid's smile remained steady, though his voice bore a cool edge. "I wouldn’t call it a miracle. Anyone who truly knows Yor would find it easy to admire her."

Yor dared not lift her gaze.

Dinner was a three-course affair: fresh salad, roasted red pepper and cheese penne, and a delicate raspberry tart.

As the second course arrived, Camilla took the opportunity to escalate the evening. With theatrical ease, she twirled a forkful of her penne and fed it to Dominic. He accepted it with a low chuckle, eyes twinkling.

Camilla wasted no time; she immediately directed her sharp and knowing gaze toward Yor.

“Your turn.”

“M-m-my… what?” Yor blinked.

“It’s not necessary..,” Loid started.

“Feed your husband,” Camilla said with mock innocence. “Unless you’re one of those couples that keep things strictly business at home too.”

Yor looked at Loid, who was trying to maintain composure.

Yor’s brain glitched. “I—uh—o-okay…”

She picked up her fork like it was a throwing knife. Her hand trembled as she stabbed a small bite of food and lifted it toward Loid, who was watching with mild amusement.

He leaned in, obligingly, and accepted the bite with all the grace of a gentleman.

Her face exploded into crimson.

Yor yelped. “I—I’m so sorry! Did I stab you?!”

Loid wiped his mouth. “No. It was good.”

Camilla raised a brow. “Hmm. You sure you two aren’t just roommates?”

Dominic groaned. “Camilla, stop.”

Yor made a high-pitched noise and stared intensely at her plate.

Later, outside the restaurant under the soft yellow streetlights, Camilla and Dominic said their goodbyes and wandered off into the evening.

Yor and Loid lingered behind.

“That went… better than I thought,” Yor said, clasping her hands.

Loid chuckled. “It did.”

She turned to him then, her voice hesitant. “Thank you… for saying all those kind things back there. I—I know you didn’t have to.”

He looked at her, his expression unreadable.

“I meant every word.”

Yor’s breath caught.

Then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, Loid leaned in.

Softly, gently, he pressed a kiss to her cheek.

Warm, light, and just a second long, but enough to burn.

Yor's instincts screamed.

Her first reaction, well-trained and automatic, was to kick, executing a hard, clean roundhouse purely out of reflex.

But she didn’t.

Somehow, miraculously, she resisted. Her knee twitched. Her fingers curled. Instead, she stood absolutely still, eyes wide, skin burning where his lips had touched. Her hand flew to the spot. Her face turned ten shades of red.

What the hell was that?! A kiss?! On my cheek?! I almost broke his ribs! And why does my heart feel like it’s doing cartwheels?!

Loid straightened smoothly and calmly adjusted his coat sleeves.

I’m Twilight, Westalis’s best spy. A kiss means nothing. It’s just strategy. It’s all ... for the mission. I am just glad she didn't break my chin. He convinced himself.

“W-what was—?!”

“A public display,” Loid said, voice a touch lower than usual. “Camilla was watching from the corner.”

She peeked over her shoulder, and sure enough, Camilla was still there, smirking behind a streetlamp.

“O-oh…”

Loid straightened his coat. “We do need to maintain the illusion of a loving couple.”

Yor nodded, slowly.

But as they walked back, side by side, not speaking, neither noticed how their footsteps had synced in perfect rhythm. Or how Loid glanced at her more than once, his heart just a little off-beat.

And Yor?

She stole a glance at him, hand brushing the place he'd kissed her as if to check if it had really happened. She told herself not to read into it. He had only done it to ward off any suspicion and nothing else. Yet, her heart was doing little flips.

Chapter Text

Loid Forger collapsed the moment he stepped through the door.

Anya’s eyes widened, the book she had been reading falling from her hands. “PAPA?! Did you DIE?!”

Yor rushed from the living room and knelt beside him. “Loid?!”

He was burning up. His forehead was slick with sweat, his face paler than usual. All the exhaustion he had been ignoring, all the stress of missions, reports, and maintaining cover had finally taken its toll.

Without a second thought, Yor gathered him in her arms.

It wasn’t the first time. She had carried him out of a bar once after accidentally knocking him out, and another time when he fainted after Anya came home with yet another Tonitrus Bolt. This time was gentler. More careful. He was her husband, after all, even if only by name.

“Anya, help me open the door to his room—!”

“It’s locked!” she squeaked.

Yor gritted her teeth, looking briefly toward her own room. “Alright. We’ll use mine. Anya, follow me.”

But before she brought him in, she dashed inside first, hiding away her weapons and any traces of her other life.

They laid Loid on her bed. His breathing was shallow, his brow furrowed in fever. Anya hovered beside her mother, a frown etched into her round face. “Mama… is Papa going to disappear?”

Yor smiled gently and brushed her daughter’s hair aside. “Of course not, sweetie. He’s just really, really tired. That’s all.”

“What do we do?” Anya whispered.

“We’ll take care of him”, Yor said, a determined look settling on her face.

She sent Anya to bring a bowl of water and a towel. She folded the wet cloth and placed it gently on Loid’s forehead, patting away the sweat from his temples. Fever. Likely from overwork. She removed his outer coat and carefully adjusted the blanket over him.

“What do people usually do when someone faints…?” she muttered.

“Soup,” Anya said wisely. “You make soup and they get better! I saw it in a spy cartoon!”

Taking the advice to heart, Yor called Camilla for help. “Can you give me a soup recipe? One that doesn’t, um... kill people?”

Camilla groaned but explained to her something easy. “Even you can’t mess this up.”

Yor tried her best. She poured her heart into the broth, slow-cooking vegetables, and soft herbs, tasting it nervously every few minutes.

Later that evening, Loid stirred. His head was pounding, his vision blurry. The Twilight part of him was sluggish. Dangerous.

His entire body felt warmer, cocooned. Softer sheets. A different smell: rose and lavender.

This wasn’t his room.

It hit him fully then. He had slept in Yor’s bed. Yor’s.

His first instinct, honed over years of espionage, was to sit up and scan for threats. But instead of danger, he saw her. Yor.

He tried to sit up, but a soft hand pushed him back.

“You need to rest,” Yor whispered.

“I can’t,” Loid croaked. “I have to cook dinner, and—”

“No,” Yor said, surprisingly firm. “You do everything for everyone. You take care of Anya, me, your patients… who takes care of you , Loid?”

He blinked up at her. Her tone wasn’t accusing, it was gentle. Concerned and real.

“You cook us breakfast by waking up so early even after sleeping so late. I… I’ve seen the light under your door late at night—!” She blushed immediately. “N-not because I was spying! I just… noticed…”

Loid didn’t say anything. He couldn't.

“So… even if this marriage is fake…” she murmured, “I want to take care of you because you deserve that. And b-because I want to. I will cook my mother's stew for dinner."

Loid sighed quietly and looked away. “Alright,” he said, softly. “You win.”

Yor beamed, shy and flustered, but also relieved.

Yor approached quietly, holding a bowl of soup with both hands. “I asked Camilla for a recipe. It's supposed to help with fevers. I hope it's not too bad.”

Loid, propped up against the headboard, took the bowl like it might explode. He stared into the contents. The carrots were uneven, and the broth was cloudy. This was how he was going to die.

But when he looked at Yor’s anxious face, all worry and hope, he took a breath and lifted the spoon.

The soup was… surprisingly decent.

A bit too salty, slightly lumpy, but it was warm and comforting. It tasted like someone had truly tried, and that made it more meaningful than anything else.

He finished the bowl and whispered, “Thank you, Yor.”

Yor’s eyes widened, cheeks turning pink. “I… I’m glad you liked it.”

She gave a small, relieved smile. Loid couldn’t help returning it, a strange calm settling over him.

Maybe it wasn’t perfect.

But it was real. And in his world, that was rare.

She followed him into his room after tucking Anya into bed. His room was clean, and everything was neatly arranged. He had removed every trace of his identity as Twilight beforehand.

She told him to lie down and tucked him into the bed. Then, she placed the towel across his forehead again, changed it with fresh water, and stood there awkwardly.

“Y-you can sit,” Loid said, shifting a little to make space at the edge of the bed.

Her eyes widened. “A-a-are you sure?!”

He gave her a quiet, tired smile. “Only if you want to.”

Yor sat slowly, hands in her lap, her body still tense. Loid mentally chastised himself. A spy should never invite a civilian this close. You're compromised, Twilight. But the exhaustion was too much, and her presence was warm.

Then, gently, Yor began humming. A lullaby her mother used to sing.

She patted Loid’s arm lightly, her fingers brushing through his hair now and then, tentative and soft.

Loid stirred, eyes half-lidded, and caught sight of her looking down at him. The expression she wore was quiet and warm and so gentle it made something inside him ache.

He blinked. “Yor…”

Startled, she jumped back like she’d been burned. “I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to—!”

Loid chuckled. A rare, low sound that caught her off guard. “It’s fine. Really. I… liked it.” His gaze softened. “Your singing. It’s nice.”

Yor stood there, frozen. “O-okay…” she whispered, glowing red.

A pause passed. Then, Loid added, barely above a whisper, “Would you… Keep doing it?”

She blinked rapidly. “Y-you want me to…?”

He nodded faintly, ears just a little pink. “If you don’t mind.”

Yor slowly returned to her seat by the bed, as if afraid she might wake him by moving too fast. Her hand hovered before settling again in his hair, fingers moving gently. She resumed the lullaby, quieter this time, her voice like silk.

Loid’s eyes drifted shut again, but his mind didn’t.

What are you doing? The voice of Twilight rang loud in his head. This is dangerous. Compromising. Unnecessary. A spy does not indulge. A spy does not let his guard down. She’s just your cover. This is a mission. Nothing more. You are Twilight. Remember that.

But the warmth on his scalp where her hand moved said otherwise. So did the softness of her voice, and the tenderness in the way she watched over him.

Still, Twilight screamed. Stop this. Stop it right now. Push her away. Thank her and dismiss her.

Loid didn’t move.

He was exhausted. That was the only reason he didn’t pull away. That was the only reason his heartbeat was loud in his ears, or that the tension in his body was finally starting to melt.

He exhaled slowly, his breathing steadying against the comforting rhythm of her song. Her fingers in his hair felt far too gentle to interrupt. Far too kind to resist.

He told himself it was just a moment. Just for tonight. Just this once.

It was necessary for the mission that he stay healthy, and Yor was helping him with that. She was helping him recover. That was all.

Even as his ears flushed and her face turned pink again, he stayed still.

Twilight, the spy, could protest all he wanted.

But right now, Loid Forger just wanted to be cared for.

She resumed humming. Slowly, her fingers returned to his hair, combing through the blond strands. He exhaled deeply, his breathing steadying.

Believing he had drifted off, she leaned forward and pressed the gentlest kiss to his forehead.

Genuine, tender, soft and warm.

Loid's heart raced. A kiss? When was the last time someone cared for him just because they wanted to?

The thought followed him into sleep.

Yor, still singing, curled up beside him on the edge of the bed at some point in the night.

When Loid woke the next morning, an hour and a half later than usual, the first thing he noticed was the warmth beside him.

Yor was curled into a quiet cocoon at the edge of the bed, having slipped out from under the blanket so he could stay warm. Her face was soft in sleep, her breathing slow and even. Tired, but peaceful.

His chest tightened.

She didn’t have to do this. None of it. This marriage wasn’t real. No vows, no obligations. Just a cover story for two people living double lives.

And yet, here she was.

She was the sort of person who made even a man like him believe, for just a moment, that peace was possible.

He tucked the blanket around her shoulders carefully, afraid to wake her.

Then he slipped out of the room and into the kitchen. His muscles still ached faintly, but for the first time in a long while he felt rested.

He felt human again.

Yor woke up to the comforting scent of something warm and savory drifting in from the kitchen.

She sat up slowly, blinking at her surroundings. Loid's room. Her cheeks flushed crimson. Did I fall asleep here? Oh no…

Bolting upright, she quickly smoothed her hair and tiptoed toward the door, peeking into the hallway.

Yor rushed into the kitchen, flustered. “L-Loid! You’re supposed to be resting!”

Loid turned to her, standing in front of the stove, “Good morning,” he said, voice calm but his ears tinged a faint pink. “I’m feeling much better.”

She glanced at the table and gasped softly. Omelets, toast, vegetables, her favorite teacup filled and waiting. All warm and carefully made.

“You… cooked all this?”

“I wanted to thank you,” he said, voice a touch quieter. “For taking care of me yesterday. The soup. And for staying.”

Her face turned even redder. “I… I’m sorry I fell asleep in your room! I didn’t mean to, I just—”

“I didn’t mind,” he said, gently cutting her off and rubbing his neck. “It was comforting.”

Yor fidgeted, eyes lowered. “I liked… taking care of you. You always do so much for us. It felt nice to return the favor.”

They sat down to eat together, hesitant at first, both still flushed. But the quiet was easy. Peaceful.

Then Anya shuffled in groggily, muttering something incoherent.

All attention turned to her, and just like that, the morning shifted.