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Chapter Text

Yor did not have high expectations for her brother’s first visit to 128 Park Avenue. She and Loid did the best they could to prepare the home and remind Anya not to give away the truth—that Yor had only joined their family a week ago. But there was only so much they could do to cover up the facts. Yor would have to pull some kind of hypnotic trick to dispel Yuri’s suspicions.

On the plus side, Yuri loved and respected her deeply. She could not remember him getting truly mad at her about anything, ever. He also trusted her implicitly and was willing to overlook all sorts of inconsistencies whenever she reassured him nothing was wrong. On the other hand, she had never sprung such an outrageous life change on him out of the blue. She couldn’t help but cringe when she remembered Yuri hadn’t even heard the news from her, but from Dominic. How could she be so forgetful?

Throughout the visit, her stomach tied itself into progressively tighter knots as Yuri glared daggers at Loid and spat abrasive comments in his direction. She knew all their efforts were for naught when he downed most of the bottle of Hugarian wine he’d brought and started slurring his words.

Then they made a fatal error of mutually assured destruction: flinching away from each other when their hands brushed.

“If you’re really a married couple, then prove it!”

No matter how much they tried to deflect, there was no throwing her brother off the scent. He was even more stubborn when drunk, staring down at them imperiously as he delivered his ultimatum.

“Just one kiss, and I’ll let it go. But if you can’t, I’m going down to City Hall to get this marriage annulled.”

What are we going to do? Yor panicked. I’ve never kissed anyone! I don’t know the first thing about kissing! And…with Loid…! I hardly even know him! It’s…it’s too much!

Then she saw Loid and how his face changed. He was normally so relaxed and a bit aloof with professional distance, but now there was an unmistakable look of focused intent, a sharp edge in his cloudless blue eyes. Her whole body tensed in anticipation of a physical fight. She jerked away as he leaned in, even as she was hyper-aware of her brother scrutinizing their every move. She was cornered.

”W-wait!” she yelped, and Loid stopped immediately. His eyes widened in surprise, reverting to the rare vulnerable look she had seen only a couple of times before.

Yor grabbed the bottle of wine from the table and chugged it voraciously, ignoring Loid’s choked warning. The effect of the alcohol was swift and merciful. 

“Okay, Loid,” she drawled. “Let’s do this.”

“It's alright, Yor,” Loid whispered. “We don’t have to. We can find—”

“No, I can do it,” she whispered back, though her mind teetered on the edge of doubt. Why had she said that? 

I can. I can’t. Can I?

I can’t. I can’t back out now.

“What’s with all the whispering?!” Yuri demanded. “Can you do it or not? If you’re a real couple—”

Yor leaned forward as if compelled by some invisible force outside her own body. Loid’s eyes widened a fraction before he shut them, his lips parting with a soft exhale, as if he had done this hundreds of times before. Now she really couldn’t back out. The distance between them closed too fast for her wine-addled mind to register.

Her lips brushed against dry, warm skin; she’d missed slightly, kissing Loid’s upper lip and the vertical groove between his nose and mouth. The faint scratch of stubble tickled her lips. With a last shot of bravery she ghosted her mouth a centimeter downward, and this time her aim was true and final. In the back of her mind she registered the scent of wine mixed with the savory appetizers he had so meticulously prepared.

And then it was done. It was over. Yor withdrew her lips and the rest of her body, her hand, which had been pushing firmly against his sternum. She blushed fiercely at the belated realization she had been so close to him. As if she had any right to place her killing hand so close to his heart!

A loud thud shook her out of her oncoming panic. She whirled and saw Yuri’s unconscious body splayed out on their living room floor. 

“Oh no!” Her hands flew to her mouth. “Yuri! Are you okay?!”

Ever the professional, Loid stood quickly and rounded the table to kneel beside her brother and check his condition. “He’s breathing just fine. I think he just passed out from shock. I’ll, uh, move him to the couch.”

In a flash Yor was at Loid’s side, stopping him with both hands upraised. “No! No, that’s quite alright. I’m sorry, Loid, this has been such a crazy night and my brother was so rude to you, and now he’s fainted, I’ll just get him back to his apartment by taxi.”

Loid furrowed his brow. “Are you sure—” 

“Yes! Yes, I’m very sure!” Yor blurted out, and busied herself by checking Yuri’s head for a concussion. She couldn’t bear to look at Loid any longer. She had to get out of here. She grabbed her brother’s arm and slung him over her shoulders, and shot to her feet as if he weighed nothing at all. “I’ll be back soon. If you don’t mind cleaning up. And staying with Anya.”

Loid looked rather incredulous at the sight of her carrying Yuri single-handedly. “Are you sure you can walk with him down the stairs? Do you need a hand?”

“No thank you, I’ll be fine! Bye!”

She zipped out the door and outside the apartment faster than she could think. Only after she had shoved her brother into a cab and slumped into the seat beside him did she finally allow herself to relax. It almost felt like a narrow escape from a botched assassination. She hadn’t botched an assassination in years.

As the old rickety taxi took them toward Yuri’s place, the car floor trembling beneath her feet, she covered her face in her hands and felt her breath stop in her throat.

She had just had her first kiss ever. After so many years of nothing. Of wondering, waiting, saving. She’d given it away to Loid, her fake husband.

And she hadn’t wanted to.

Chapter Text

Stupid!

You’re so stupid!

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

Yor berated herself continuously throughout the workday. She was utterly unable to concentrate on the simplest of tasks, to the point where Camilla called out her mistakes for all to hear. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Yor repeated for the umpteenth time, bowing her head in remorse. “I’m so sorry!”

“What is with you today?” Camilla snapped. “You’re creating more work for all of us! We’re going to run out of paper or white-out at this rate.”

“I just…” Yor fumbled for a believable excuse. No way could she tell any of her coworkers the truth. “I just didn’t sleep well.”

It was lame, but she heard other people use it all the time. 

Camilla raised an eyebrow. “You don’t look tired. You’ve been typing a mile a minute. No, wait…”

Her lips curved into a smirk. The only kind of smile she ever sent Yor’s way. 

“You had that kind of night, huh,” the woman said in an entirely different tone. The kind that made Yor most uneasy, because she never understood what was truly being said.

How many kinds of nights were there? And which type would make Camilla smirk that way? Yor suppressed a gasp. There was no way Camilla could have figured out she was an assassin, was there?

“It’s, it’s not what you think!” she sputtered, waving her hands in front of her face. “I didn’t go out last night!”

Somehow that only made Camilla’s eyes widen. “What? You two usually go out for that? To a love hotel or something? Didn’t know you and the doctor were like that.”

Yor only blanched further. Love hotels were a frequent location for assassinations, given how easy it was to sneak up on a target preoccupied with other matters. But no, she wasn’t that dense. She had finally caught onto her coworker’s meaning.

“N-no, Loid and I would never—! Not…I mean, we wouldn’t do that outside. Or…” anywhere, she wanted to finish the thought, but her stomach sank at the realization she was only sounding more and more suspicious. What kind of married woman got this flustered about the topic of sex with her husband of one year?

What kind of married woman would feel so incredibly stupid and ashamed—and, deep down, if she were being honest with herself, sad— about a simple kiss with her husband?

Yor was saved by Chief Barnes passing by and barking at them all to get back to work. Seizing the opening, she excused herself for a bathroom break and went into the farthest stall in the back to decompress. She fell into her training as Thorn Princess to even out her breathing and calm her heart rate while perched atop the rim of the toilet. It was a standard tactic to stay concealed when she had to assassinate someone in a public bathroom—keeping her feet and any trace of herself invisible to anyone who might try to peek under the stalls. 

Slowly, she brought her hands up to her face and covered her eyes. Her face was still hot with embarrassment. Her nerves had been frayed since last night. This morning hadn’t helped, having to see Loid at breakfast and duck her head and dodge his concerned questions. 

He had been so considerate, even brushing some lint off her collar before she had put on her jacket. Of course she had reacted wildly out of line, nearly tripping over herself to get away from him. It had appeared for a second as if he was going to give her a goodbye kiss, but that was just her projecting her own guilt onto him! She had rushed out the door as quickly as possible after that, unable to stand being in the same room as him any longer, even though it compounded her guilt to see him so confused and worried.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. You were the one who kissed him. He said you didn’t have to, but you went and did it anyway. No one’s to blame but you, Yor!

Now get back out there and work! Stop feeling so sad! Be normal for once in your life!

Instead of galvanizing her to come to her senses, her inner voice only made things worse. Tears seeped from her eyes and wet her fingers, which were still pressed against her face. She ripped off way too much toilet paper to wipe them away, again and again. Great. Now she was crying, and she had left her makeup kit at her desk, and she would have to go back to her coworkers looking like she’d had a breakdown. Maybe she could explain it away as an allergic reaction.

Again, somehow Chief Barnes provided an out when she most needed it. He completely ignored her pale complexion and splotchy eyes as he passed her in the hall and shoved an envelope into her hands. “Get this to the post office for me, will you?” 

“Yes, sir!”

Yor took a full breath of fresh air as soon as she was outside City Hall. She had about fifteen minutes of a reprieve before she had to go back in and put on an act for her colleagues. She could do this. 

The envelope felt heavy in her hands as she walked the few blocks to the post office. She averted her gaze whenever she saw a couple pass by with their hands interlinked, or when a movie poster in a store window sported a picture of a passionate kiss between star-crossed lovers. It only reminded her how abnormal she was.

Why was this such a big deal? It was only a kiss. And she was a grown woman. Way past the age when most women learned how to kiss. Way past when most people had their first crush, their first date, their first relationship. 

It was only a slight brush of the lips. Dry, chapped, smelling like wine and cheese. Uncomfortable and awkward. It was hardly the romantic, intimate experience everyone claimed it to be. It meant nothing, because her marriage was a farce. 

Why did she feel like something important had been stolen from her? Stupid! She had been the one to initiate, to plant her mouth on Loid’s. If anything, she had stolen a kiss from him! He was a widow! He probably had never wanted any kind of intimate contact with her.

Tears threatened to well in her eyes again, but she quelled them the only way she knew how. She thought of her last kill. The sharp points of her stilettos driving through flesh. The screams of her targets before they tapered into wet gurgles. The methodical cleaning that followed.

It got her to the post office without another embarrassing bout of tears. She handed the envelope over to the postal worker and paused by the exit as she noticed an advertisement for joint savings accounts at the local bank. Yet another reminder of her inadequacy.

She and Loid didn’t share a bank account. Their act as a married couple had so many holes. No wonder it drew suspicion from her own brother. And she had been the one to rush them into an official marriage, proposing to him on the fly in that alley. 

But he was the one who slipped up at Camilla’s party, another part of her argued. If he hadn’t blurted out to everyone that he was your husband, none of this would be happening.

She shook her head vigorously. No. She would not blame Loid for anything. It was her fault she couldn’t handle the simplest of acts for the sake of their cover. And aside from that, it was her fault she was such a terrible liar that she couldn’t convince her own brother that her marriage was genuine. Her brother, who had always been so trusting of her, believing every poor lie she had fed him to cover up her assassin work.

“Excuse me, miss.”

The solemn masculine voice jolted her out of her self-castigation. She turned at the mouth of the alley she had just been passing to come face to face with a solitary police officer holding out a badge. Emblazoned across the black leather were three identical letters any civilian dreaded to see. 

SSS.

Every muscle in her body tensed, ready to fight or flee. But just as quickly, she forced herself to remain calm. They were in broad daylight and she could absolutely not afford to lose control of herself and attack a member of the secret police! She didn’t know yet what he suspected about her. As far as she knew, her identity as Thorn Princess was still airtight. Director McMahon would have informed her first thing this morning if it had been leaked.

So then, was this officer suspicious of her because she had stared at the savings account advertisement for too long? She cursed herself for her stupidity yet again.

Before she could spiral too far, she noticed that the man was alone. Odd. Usually secret police worked in pairs. Was his partner in concealment somewhere nearby? Or did the SSS consider her such a low level threat that they had sent only one agent? She hoped it was the latter. 

“If you’d just come with me, miss, I have a few simple questions for you. If you cooperate, I’m hopeful you can be on your way shortly,” the officer said, and indicated the recesses of the alley. 

“Y-yes, officer,” she said quietly, and obeyed. 

The man looked gruff and a bit frightening with the set of scars running across his face, but his tone was formal and polite. Maybe he wasn’t investigating her, but someone she knew at City Hall. After Jim Hayward’s arrest, everyone was on high alert.

“As part of our mail inspection duties, we’ve noticed a number of irregularities in this letter you just posted,” the man said, pulling a document from his jacket. “We suspect this is a coded message to the West.”

She tensed again, mind racing for what to say. She’d merely delivered the letter for Chief Barnes, but could she state her innocence without stuttering and looking like she was lying? If her own brother couldn’t believe her, how would she convince an SSS agent?

“This ‘Barnes’ listed as the sender. Is he your superior?” the officer went on.

“Yes,” she answered as steadily as she could. 

“And your name is?”

“Yor B–I mean, Yor Forger.” She automatically flushed. She couldn’t keep slipping up with her maiden name like this!

“...I see,” the officer said, and his stern countenance darkened. “I’m afraid you’ll have to come with me, miss.”

“Wh-what?” Her heart rate spiked. Her hands twitched, ready to go on the offensive in an instant. But no, she had to clear up this misunderstanding. She could not kill this man without exhausting all her options first. “I don’t know anything about the letter and what it says. My superior just asked me to mail it for him, that’s all.”

“Your name is listed as a collaborator in code.” The man pointed to a dense paragraph within the document. The print was too small for her to see. “To cover all our bases, we’ll need to detain you until we can investigate this properly.”

“No, please…” she fumbled desperately. She did not want to harm this man and cause a mess for Garden to clean up. Shopkeeper would have to transfer her away from City Hall, make up a new cover for her, perhaps move her out of Berlint permanently. How would she explain any of that to Yuri? Or to Loid or Anya? “I truly don’t know anything about that document! I don’t know anything about what Chief Barnes might be involved in. Please, I have a husband and daughter waiting for me at home.”

The man’s stoic expression eased infinitesimally, perhaps out of pity. “...I see. I might be able to make an exception, if you have any references within law enforcement who can vouch for your integrity. Do you?”

She bit the inside of her lip to keep from making any sudden threatening movements. She would lose this confrontation, no matter what. She did not know anyone in law enforcement. Every Garden assassin was trained to steer clear of all forms of police. It seemed her only option was to run, or, if this man pulled a weapon on her, to disable him first. But then, she would have to disappear and leave the Forgers.

She clenched her hands into fists and hung her head. “No. I’m afraid I don’t.”

He raised an eyebrow and let the silence linger for several seconds longer, as if waiting for her to change her mind. Why did he think she was lying about this, of all things? 

“No one?”

This man seemed to want to spare her for whatever reason. She would take the opening. 

“My husband is a respected psychiatrist at Berlint General Hospital. Our daughter is only six and just started first grade at Eden Academy. My brother is a junior diplomat at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. They are my only living family members. We are all law-abiding citizens who would never knowingly commit a crime.”

The officer took in her words, his cold blue eyes assessing her like a metal detector. She fought to keep still under that penetrating gaze, hoping for both their sakes that he would relent. Slowly, he shuffled the pages of the document and studied the printed text again.

Finally, after a minute, he folded up the document and tucked it back into his jacket. “It seems there has been a mistake. Our decryption team misinterpreted this letter as leaking state secrets when it actually revolves around an embarrassing health issue Mr. Barnes suffers from. You are not listed as a collaborator. I apologize for the trouble.”

All the captured breath left her lungs at once, and her shoulders sagged in relief. “Thank you, officer.”

“Please, don’t thank me. I apologize,” the man repeated. “Please keep this incident to yourself so as not to embarrass your superior.”

“Of course,” she said, bowing her head. 

“Have a good day, miss.”

As soon as she was back in City Hall, she ducked into the nearest bathroom and waited until her limbs stopped shaking. She was an absolute mess today. At this rate she might have to claim she was ill and go home early.

She breathed in and out and imagined she was preparing for a job. No matter the odds, she never faltered as Thorn Princess. She sank into the comfort of the lethal power hidden in her veins, in her instincts. She feared nothing, cowered before no one. She had a job to do.

Right now, the job was to finish the workday, and get home in one piece.

—

She almost made it back home when the next threat found her.

“Yor! Is that you?”

Her spine immediately straightened and she whipped her head around for the source of the voice. It was Loid. She had been so preoccupied with her guilty thoughts that she hadn’t noticed him approaching from across the street. 

“H-hi, Loid,” she said, steeling herself as he walked briskly up to her. His handsome face was so open and kind, a tinge of concern in his blue irises as he picked up on her mood. She tried to offer a smile in return, but she was certain it came out looking more like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Is everything alright?” he said, stopping a respectful distance away. He had been about to reach for her, but let his arm fall to his side.

She looked down at her shoes, unable to meet his imploring gaze any longer. He was such a good man. A man who respected her boundaries and had given her an out yesterday. An out she hadn’t taken, because she was too stubborn and brash. Determined to prove a point, only to stew in regret afterward with no one to blame but herself.

“I had a bit of a rough day,” she admitted, and shifted her bag from one hand to the other. “But it’s nothing to worry about. Wh-what about you?”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” His voice was achingly soft. He took one tentative step toward her, and she managed to stand her ground even though every instinct told her to back away. “Yor, I think you have something on your clothes again. May I?”

“Oh,” she mumbled, and flushed red as he deftly picked the lint off her collar without making contact with her skin. She didn’t know Loid could move that fast. Her heart wavered again in gratitude for how considerate he was. Meanwhile, she was simply a failure. “I’m sorry, Loid. I can’t even keep my own clothes clean. I’ve been such a burden to you.”

“No, Yor,” he said, his tone now surprisingly firm. “That’s not true.”

He looked like he wanted to say more, but glanced around as if remembering that they were still on a crowded city sidewalk in the middle of rush hour.

“Let’s walk home together. I’m sorry that you had a rough day. If you’re willing, I’d be happy to listen to anything that’s on your mind. This morning…” He hesitated again. “This morning, it seemed you were bothered by something, but we didn’t get to talk about it before you left for work. I think I have some guesses as to what it is, but I don’t want to make any assumptions.”

They began to walk the several blocks toward 128 Park Avenue, and Yor did not know if she wanted the time to pass slower or faster. She didn’t want to embarrass herself and him by talking about her immature hangups in public, especially if she might break down like she had earlier in the bathroom. He would certainly think of her as a burden then. 

But now that she was with Loid in person, not merely replaying the memory of him and warping it a little each time she retread her missteps, something about him put her at ease. He wasn’t a threat, not exactly. He was…just a man. A kind man, who loved his daughter deeply. Who was respectful and thoughtful toward her, a woman he barely knew and yet had welcomed into his home as an equal partner. He had given her a separate bedroom. He never touched her, except when appearances demanded it, and even then he kept it to the bare minimum.

Was it so bad to have given her first kiss to a man like Loid?

Her coworkers had chatted about him nonstop after Camilla’s party. Gushing about how handsome and refined and kind he was. How Yor was unbelievably lucky to land a husband like him, even though he was a widow with a child. Who was she to begrudge him a simple little kiss that didn’t actually mean anything? 

“Thank you for worrying about me,” she said quietly, and shied away only slightly as he drew a bit closer to hear her better above the background noise. “You don’t need to worry about it anymore, though. I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” Loid said. She could feel his eyes on her, assessing but stopping short of judgment. It felt almost like the concealed compassion of the SSS officer. “I know we haven’t known each other for very long, and I don’t want to pry, but I did make a vow to be there for you through thick and thin. I’m here if you need help with anything, or if you just want to talk.”

“Thank you,” she said sincerely. Her self-protective instincts abated. She would be able to make it home in one piece after all. “I really appreciate that, Loid. I’ll let you know if I ever do want to talk.”

He nodded, and for a while they walked in silence. It was still awkward, but she didn’t feel like she wanted to run away and hide anymore. As they neared their home, he brought up Anya and her progress at school thus far. A safe topic she suspected they would always gravitate toward when they couldn’t quite find anything else to discuss.

Anya herself was proving to be amazingly intuitive for such a young child. Her eyes lit up when she saw Yor and Loid preparing dinner and a special dessert together in the kitchen, and she looked so happy that Yor’s heart melted. Anya ran to her and hugged her legs, burying her face in the hem of her oversized sweater.

”Mama’s okay,” Anya murmured. 

“Yes, I am,” she replied in a whisper, just for the little girl’s ears. It was half the truth.

I will be okay, Yor thought to herself. With a little time, I’ll be fine.

Chapter Text

With time, Yor did feel better. She fell into a more comfortable rhythm at home with Loid and Anya. Though she didn’t have much of a reference point, there were some moments where they started to feel like a real family.

Most of these moments were with Anya. Picking her up from the bus stop. Helping her prepare for a dodgeball game at school. Trying to teach her to jump rope and do calisthenics and other physical exercises. Listening to her stories about school and her friends. It reminded her endearingly of Yuri’s childhood, how excited he had been to tell her all about his day or share something new he had learned. 

Whenever Anya beamed at her and hugged her and told her she was a good mama, Yor’s heart felt full to bursting. She was getting a second chance to witness the innocence and joy of a child’s life up close, but without the immense stress and fear of poverty and having to do it all alone. It was a blessing she had not been looking for, but now never wanted to let go.

And Loid…Loid was a blessing, as well. After that ill-planned night, he had never touched her again, and always made sure to give her plenty of personal space. Almost too much space, given that their home was rather small to begin with. He was highly intelligent and a psychiatrist after all. He must have figured out what was bothering her and gone to extremes to ensure her comfort. 

She wanted to bring it up somehow, to thank him for his kindness, or to tell him that it was okay not to walk on eggshells around her. But there never seemed to be an appropriate time. At least that was her excuse. 

Deep down, the truth was that she was afraid. She had learned that troublesome topics, like food, had expiration dates. Weeks had passed, and she feared that it would only spoil the easy dynamic they had fallen into if she tried to talk about it even tangentially.

Instead, she observed Loid quietly, from the middle distance that he had drawn between them. She saw how hard he worked every day, both at the hospital and in their home, making sure all their needs were met. He came home injured from his patients sometimes, though he always masked his pain behind a cheerful smile. He cooked the most delicious meals for them every day, always giving Anya and Yor the best portions and the freshest dishes while he took the leftovers for himself. 

Though he wasn’t the most open with his affection for Anya, he was extremely dedicated to her wellbeing and happiness. He pushed her hard in her studies, but still let her have plenty of fun every day, and went the extra mile to understand her and relate to her on her level. Lately, he had taken up reading the Spy Wars comics to keep up with her favorite show. 

Yor got to benefit from Loid’s care for Anya as well, in the form of what their daughter called “ootings.” Most recently they had visited the city aquarium, and Yor had loved exploring all the animal exhibits and reading the placards (when she hadn’t been defending Anya from a kidnapper). Loid had been rather adorable in his obsession with the penguins, especially when he’d memorized all those penguin names just to win Anya a giant plushie. Yor felt a deep gratitude on Anya’s behalf that Loid was such a wonderful father and family man. She could not find a single thing about Loid to complain about, unlike her coworkers who constantly griped about their partners.

Her, on the other hand…she knew for a fact that her flaws were too many to count. She still couldn’t cook, she was socially awkward, she couldn’t lie or act for the sake of their cover, she could not help Anya with her academics, she misapplied her strength at the most inconvenient times and broke things when flustered, her brother was openly rude to Loid every chance he got…

Her admiration for Loid only grew whenever she thought about how much he had to put up with. So did her guilt.

And then she messed up on a job. 

It wasn’t like her to overlook a target, but she’d been distracted by thoughts of getting home on time to Loid and Anya. The searing pain of the bullet wound in her backside was a stark reminder that she wasn’t really an ordinary wife and mother. She was an assassin first and foremost. She had only taken on a role in a civilian family as a cover for her assassination work. 

Usually her high pain tolerance enabled her to mask her discomfort, but this time the pain was just too much. She hobbled into the apartment with the groceries Loid had asked her to buy, made her excuses, and ducked into her room to rest (after taking a fistful of painkillers). For once she did not have the capacity to worry about Loid’s surprised expression and what he might think of her. She just wanted her butt to stop hurting.

Sometime in the middle of the night, she awoke to the slightest of sounds near her bedroom door. Instantly she was on high alert, shoving aside the pain of her injury to assess the potential threat—not only to her, but to the two defenseless civilians she lived with.

A second later, she calmed down. Loid’s familiar footsteps retreated, and she heard the click of his own door closing soon after that. 

Under the dim light of her bedside lamp, she limped to the door and found a white envelope on the floor. Her eyes shot wide open, all vestiges of sleep fading immediately. What could be so urgent that Loid had to write her a letter in the middle of the night? Could it be a divorce notice? Had he finally gotten sick of all her mistakes and shortcomings and decided to break off their deal?

She crouched to retrieve the envelope and bit back a hiss, her wound shooting hot needles throughout her body. Lying on her side in bed once more, she carefully opened the seam and withdrew the letter inside, penned in Loid’s neat handwriting.

Dear Yor,

I noticed you seemed to be under the weather when you came home. You said you were tired, but I suspect you might have been hiding the depth of your discomfort for Anya’s sake.

It could be that you truly were tired from work and my concern is unfounded. If so, please forgive my assumptions.

However, I think I have been around you long enough to sense when something’s bothering you on a deeper level. Could it be that you weren’t just tired, but upset or dissatisfied with the burdens of our cover family? I realize I have placed a lot on your shoulders with caring for Anya, running errands, and putting on an act for our neighbors, which can be extremely tiresome and stressful. 

Aside from those everyday burdens, I also wonder if perhaps we didn’t get off to the best start all those weeks ago, and I’ve failed to address some of the major stresses we faced early on. I have been unfair to you, and I hope to make amends if you are willing to talk with me. 

I’ve asked Franky to take Anya out tomorrow evening so we can catch up over dinner. I’ll cook for us; it’ll be no problem at all. I just want to clear away any misunderstandings and apologize for my neglect. 

I know it can be hard for you to voice your thoughts on difficult topics, so if you feel overwhelmed by the prospect of talking with me directly, you can just write back to this letter instead. I won’t be offended.

Thank you for all you do for our family,

Loid

Yor bit her lip to choke down the emotions roiling within her, and pressed the letter to her chest as if staunching a grievous wound. Loid…

Loid didn’t want to divorce her. He wanted to apologize and make things right, when he hadn’t done anything wrong in the first place! Her guilt multiplied as she considered how worried he had to be to stay up late writing this letter, choosing each word so carefully. He had even given her an out at the end, just like he had the day Yuri had demanded they kiss. 

He wanted the best for her and had really thought of everything to put her at ease. She still felt pressure, of course, but it was all self-imposed. 

Part of her did consider writing Loid back and forgoing the awkward tension of a heavy conversation over dinner, without Anya there to lighten the atmosphere. They had never had a real conversation about their relationship—whatever it was—since they had gotten married. Yor didn’t even know what a serious conversation between a husband and wife was supposed to look like. 

But for Loid, she was willing to take the risk and face her fears. He had already done so much for her. It was the least she could do to accept his invitation.

Taking a pen from her bedside drawer, she scrawled a small yes at the bottom of the letter, folded it back up, and placed it inside the envelope once more. Then she tiptoed out into the hall, managing to stay utterly silent despite the pain of her injury threatening to throw her off balance, and slid the envelope under Loid’s door. 

She lay awake in bed for a long time, shifting between gratitude and wonder and mild panic. Would she always feel so bewildered by Loid? How could he be so perfect? How had she managed to stumble into a partnership with a man like him?

—

The next evening, Yor walked into the apartment to find it immaculately clean with a delectable mix of savory scents wafting from the kitchen. Loid smiled at her as he brought the last of the dishes to the table, where a vase of blue hyacinths sat at the center.

She hadn’t even thought about flowers. He didn’t owe her an apology, but had gone out of his way to buy her such beautiful flowers anyway. 

She managed not to stutter too much as she thanked him for setting all of this up. Every detail, from the bright lighting to the neutral color of the table settings to the choice of flowers, had been carefully chosen so as not to alarm her. There was nothing overtly romantic about the atmosphere. It felt rather like a miniature version of Camilla’s party all those weeks ago, without the alienation and underhanded hostility. A meeting between friends.

The bottle on the table was sparkling apple cider. Of course, there would be no alcohol. She was grateful for that, too. She owed him a clear-minded conversation, where she wasn’t hiding behind anything. The most she had allowed herself were strong painkillers, to make her injury less distracting.

They started with Anya, their safe topic. Their daughter had had a fairly uneventful school week, with no warnings from teachers or spats with classmates. Yor speculated on what she might be up to with Franky, and an exasperated look briefly passed across Loid’s handsome features. 

“He’s putting funny ideas in her head, no doubt,” Loid said wryly. “I know he won’t really follow all the rules I laid out.”

Yor giggled. Sometimes Loid talked about Franky as if the man were another child he had to raise, as opposed to his close friend. From what little she remembered about the night of the castle adventure, Franky did seem young and playful at heart. She secretly hoped he might rub off a bit on Loid and help him loosen up.

“I think it’s great that Anya has a fun uncle to play with,” Yor said. “Franky is so creative, I’m sure he’s helping to expand her imagination in a good way.”

“I suppose, though I wish she would apply some of that imagination to her school assignments. Most of the time she just puts in the bare minimum to get by,” Loid grumbled.

“She tries in her own way,” Yor said. She didn’t like to contradict Loid directly on his opinions, especially about Anya, but hoped that over time he might change his expectations of the little girl. “She has a lot of strengths! She learns quickly, she makes friends easily, and she loves exploring the outdoors and doing arts and crafts.”

Loid’s expression softened. “You’re right. She does try. And she’s still very young.”

“She’s at such a precious age. I’m so glad to have joined your family during such a formative time for her. Getting to see her go to a new school and make friends and ask all sorts of interesting questions. It makes me think back on when Yuri was her age and some of the ways she’s similar to him.”

It was slight, but the mention of her brother made Loid straighten up. She managed to hold his gaze as the air between them thickened a bit. He cleared his throat and set down his fork to take a sip of his drink.

“I imagine it must bring back a lot of memories for you,” he said in a measured manner. “I’ve always admired how you were able to raise your brother all on your own. You shouldered so much from a young age.”

“Thank you,” she said quietly. “I tried my best…but I fell short in a lot of ways. Like with how Yuri behaves toward you.”

“That’s not your fault. It’s perfectly understandable why he would be suspicious of me.”

“Suspicious, maybe, but to call you names and threaten you? It makes me so embarrassed and ashamed. You’ve been nothing but kind to me, and I wish he would see that.”

Guilt flickered across Loid’s face. He looked down at his place setting before meeting her eyes again with some mixture of resolve and regret. She beat him to the punch and took the first step onto the ice.

“About that night…” she began.

She didn’t need to specify further. Loid had arranged this very dinner as a belated, misplaced apology for what had happened that night.

“I really should have done a better job deflecting his suspicion. I could have come up with a much better reason for why we kept our marriage a secret.”

Loid looked like he was about to object, but stayed silent as she placed both palms on the table, determined to speak her piece.

“And…when he demanded that we k-kiss,” she stumbled once, then forged on, “I shouldn’t have caved so easily. He was drunk, he probably wouldn’t have remembered anything the next day anyway. And looking back on it, it only makes me angry that he would threaten to annul our marriage. No one has the power to do that but us. He definitely didn’t have the right to accuse you of tricking me into it. If anything, I’m the one who asked to make it official. And…”

Loid held completely still throughout her speech, his expression seemingly relaxed, but she could tell he was exerting a lot of effort to listen without interrupting.

“And I…” she stopped, searching for the right words. There were no right words for this. “I feel angry at myself for going along with his demands. I didn’t…I didn’t actually want to k-kiss you. I’ve…never actually kissed anyone.”

Her voice grew small, and perhaps Loid took that as his cue to cut in. 

“Yor, I’m sorry you felt forced into it. I didn’t want you to—”

“No,” she shook her head, “you have nothing to apologize for. You told me I didn’t have to, remember? But for some reason I did it anyway. Just thinking about it now makes me so embarrassed. I feel so stupid.”

His neutral expression turned into a frown. “You’re not stupid. And again, it wasn’t your fault. I should have stopped things before they got out of hand. I was the one under suspicion, not you.”

“But he’s my brother, I’ve known him all his life,” she argued. “If anyone’s responsible, it’s me. You trusted me to put Yuri’s mind at ease, and I failed.”

“But I tipped him off when I slipped up, when our hands brushed,” he countered. “That was just juvenile of me.”

“I slipped up, too! I blushed so much!”

“But I’m the one who was married before. I shouldn’t have reacted like that to a simple touch.”

“Well…” She tried to find another counter, but suddenly realized how ridiculous both of them were acting. An undignified snort escaped her lips. Then another. 

Loid looked confused, then amused, and the tension in his shoulders loosened. He shook his head and chuckled as Yor covered her mouth in an attempt to retain some dignity.

“I guess it was kind of silly, now that it’s in the past,” Loid conceded, but she could tell he hadn’t given up quite yet. She was proven right as he schooled his expression back into sincere regret. “But I don’t want to trivialize your feelings. I know you tend to diminish yourself for the comfort of others, and while I admire your selflessness, I don’t think it’s right for you to do that in this case. You…you said you didn’t want to kiss me.”

Just hearing the word made her blush. “I didn’t mean it that way! You’re a wonderful man, and anyone would be lucky to get to k-kiss you.”

He shook his head again. “That’s not what I meant either. This isn’t about me. It’s about the fact that you felt forced to do something you didn’t want to do. Something that’s supposed to be meaningful and extremely personal.”

“It shouldn’t be a big deal, though,” she said, bringing out the old arguments she had rehashed to herself over and over. 

It was odd. Up until now she had felt so alone in her regret and shame, wishing in her heart of hearts for some kind of comfort that she didn’t trust anyone to give her. But now that Loid was granting it to her, she didn’t want it. Not if it meant he felt guilty over a burden that wasn’t his to bear.

“I’m twenty seven years old, I should be a mature adult about this. I shouldn’t have felt so…”

Sad was on the tip of her tongue, but she stopped short, not wanting Loid to feel worse.

“I should just be able to move on,” she said instead. “I’ve already made you cook this huge dinner for the two of us and pay Franky to babysit, just so we could talk. I appreciate it a lot, and that letter you wrote, it was so kind…but I don’t deserve any of it. I’m sorry to put you through so much trouble. I don’t hold anything against you, Loid. You’ve been so accommodating and understanding, more than I deserve.”

“You didn’t make me do anything. This is the least I could do to show my gratitude for everything you do and make sure you’re comfortable. I don’t want any bad feelings between us to just get shoved under the rug.” 

“I don’t have any bad feelings,” she objected, and realized that they were starting to go in circles. “Well…maybe I do, but they aren’t directed at you.”

“You have a right to feel sad,” he insisted, bringing what she hadn’t wanted to say out into the open. “To grieve, in a way. I’m not patronizing you when I say this. Many of my patients deal with feelings of grief over things they try to tell themselves are minor, and they feel shame about it. But part of my job is to help them understand that what they’re feeling is valid. It’s not something they should simply ‘get over.’ Everyone has a different threshold for what they’re comfortable with, and it’s nothing to be ashamed about.”

Hearing Loid talk about it in a clinical manner made her feel a bit better. It added some safety and distance into the inherent risk of their discussion. But that distance soon shrank again with his next words.

“A first kiss should be special,” he said, and the softness in his eyes pierced her like a blade. “Especially for you, Yor. You’re a very special person—incredibly selfless and kind and always seeing the best in everyone. I wish I could erase what happened, so you could choose when to have that experience on your own terms, with someone you truly want to share it with.”

His face tightened a bit as if pained. “And even as I say that, I realize I’ve made it quite difficult for that to happen. We are married at least on paper, and people would be quick to talk if either of us found someone else. But that isn’t as important as your happiness. If you feel trapped in this arrangement or if it isn’t working for you, it’s okay to back out. We never said how long this would need to last. Anya’s at Eden now, so on my end you’ve fulfilled the original intent of your role.”

Her hand shot out over the table to grasp his. It was the first time they had touched since the incident. Her face warmed in instinctive embarrassment and a bit of shock at her own boldness, but she held on. She could feel him tense as he stopped speaking and his fingers twitched infinitesimally in her grip. 

“No. That’s the furthest thing from my mind,” she assured him. “I am happy here. You and Anya have made me happy in a way I haven’t felt since I was very young. Even my coworkers can see it. And…it’s okay. I don’t want anyone else.”

Her cheeks flushed as Loid’s eyes widened a fraction, and she tried to clarify hastily, “I mean, I’ve never really thought of anyone that way. I guess I just didn’t have time, with taking care of Yuri, and then…” 

She couldn’t exactly tell him that she had been preoccupied by her underground career as an assassin. Another course correction.

“...and I’ve always been awkward in social settings, I don’t know how to hold a normal conversation and I don’t really have any friends…so I guess I never had the chance to think about it? I haven’t felt like I’m missing out, in any case.”

As she said it, a small voice in her mind objected. Recently, very recently, perhaps this very night, she had started to feel like she was missing out after all. She had only just moved past enough of her sadness and shame over the loss of her first kiss, to begin to wonder what a real relationship might be like. A relationship with someone she felt at ease with, who understood and accepted her as she was, who made her feel safe and valued. 

Someone like Loid.

Her heart rate shot up with the alarming self-admission. At the same time, Loid turned his hand over to intertwine their fingers.

“I don’t think you're awkward or can’t hold a conversation. We’ve been talking for a while now and this has been more honest and constructive than any conversation I’ve had in a long time,” he said warmly. “I think you’re a wonderful person, too. You deserve to experience a full relationship, if that’s what you want. So even if you might not feel like you’re missing out now, you can still change your mind at any point in the future.”

Yor looked down, torn. It was a familiar feeling, the pressure to be decisive, to reciprocate, to prove something, warring against her self-protective instincts to run, to dodge, to fight. 

I can. I can’t. 

I can’t. I shouldn’t.

She would not make the same mistake again. She hadn’t had time to think anything through, to ensure she wouldn’t have regrets. She needed to give herself time, and trust that Loid would still be here, just as open and understanding as he was now.

As if sensing her uncertainty, Loid continued, softer. “Can you promise me something, Yor?”

Her stomach fluttered, out of trepidation and something else. “I’ll…I’ll try.”

“If you ever feel uncomfortable or under pressure to do something you don’t want to do, please tell me. If we’re in public, you can just tilt your head like this, or tug on your own sleeve right here. And I’ll know to change the topic or get us out of there. Okay? Please promise me you won’t push yourself outside your own boundaries just for appearance’s sake.”

“O-okay.”

“And,” he gave her hand a squeeze, “if things change, and you do want a real relationship elsewhere, don’t be afraid to tell me.”

“No,” she said before she could think. It almost sounded like he wanted to back out first, just to save her the embarrassment of asking. No. She couldn’t let him think that way. “I really am happy with the way things are. You’ve done so much for me, you and Anya both. I feel like I’ve just taken and taken from you, and given you the short end of the bargain.”

“Not at all. There is no short or long end,” he said with a smile. “We’re equal partners. Friends, I hope.”

She nodded earnestly, an indescribable gratitude flooding her heart. Loid always had a way with words, eloquence and sincerity combined. 

“Yes. Friends,” she echoed.

The concentrated cocktail of sudden emotion within her was more intense than the ache of her bullet wound. She didn’t know what to do with it, yet. But it was okay. She had time, and trust. One day, hopefully not too long from now, she would know.

Chapter Text

The following month was full of new pleasant surprises. With the addition of Bond to their family, the house became even livelier as Anya gained a new playmate for nearly all hours of the day. While Yor had initially been hesitant about adopting a dog, she quickly came to adore the large animal with his quiet, dutiful, sometimes silly personality. 

Yor had started cooking lessons in earnest, and had managed to master one dish, her mother’s stew. The happy astonishment on Loid and Anya’s faces as they tried it for the first time was one of the greatest rewards Yor had ever received. She wasn’t sure if she would be able to cook anything else anytime soon, but at least she could make this for Anya on the days Loid was busy or held up at work.

Perhaps the most promising thing that had happened was that Yuri had come over again and tried to tutor Anya. While he was still hostile toward Loid and refused to call Anya by her actual name, he had treated the task seriously out of respect for Yor. After Yuri had left, Yor had asked Anya what she thought of the visit, and to her relief the little girl claimed she’d had fun. She’d learned some basic math along with something about chihuahuas possessing great power, which Yor couldn’t quite figure out. 

Yor often remembered the special dinner she and Loid had shared, and the questions she had yet to answer for herself. Loid continued to treat her with utmost respect and kindness while keeping his distance. They hadn’t touched since that night, but the memory of his hand clasping hers felt like a warm promise. Yor treasured their friendship just as much as her mother-daughter relationship with Anya. 

Did she want something more with Loid? Could she imagine herself as more than a friend to him? Did he want something more, too?

Every time she dared to imagine closing the distance between them—like the act of holding hands on the sidewalk, of sitting right beside him on the couch so their shoulders brushed, of visiting him at work for a lunch date and stating a bit more confidently that she was his wife to anyone who asked—a little thrill coursed through her veins, both frightening and invigorating at the same time. She had no idea what she was doing, but maybe…maybe that was how most people felt the first time they had a crush on someone. 

Was it a crush? How could she know for sure?

She hadn’t yet reached an answer when something else happened to shake up their family dynamic.

Yor welcomed Loid’s colleague, Fiona Frost, rather nervously into their home. Her first impression of the woman was that she was breathtakingly beautiful, like a marble statue in a museum, not a strand of lavender hair out of place, every movement carefully choreographed to maximize decorum and professionalism. 

Yor couldn’t help but feel a step behind as she tried to make small talk with Fiona. Despite her best efforts to be courteous and friendly, Fiona’s demure, unreadable expression barely changed, never offering her a smile or any kind of affirmation. Her stomach sank by slow degrees as the clock ticked on and the woman showed no sign of wanting to leave. Yor could only wait for Loid and Anya to come home and take Fiona’s disconcerting attention off of her.

She got her wish as their familiar footsteps approached from the corridor outside, but not before Fiona said something that would haunt her for days to come.

“Dr. Forger often complains about that at work. He grumbles that his wife is always…”

Anya and Bond swept into the apartment, followed by Loid, who looked bewildered by his coworker’s presence. Yor put on her best smile and prepared coffee and hot cocoa in the kitchen while Fiona’s unfinished statement rattled around in her head like a weapon that didn’t fit its holster. From a safe distance, she watched her husband and Fiona hold an oddly tense discussion about grocery shopping and inflation. They were both smiling, but carried themselves like they were preparing for a fight. Anya seemed to have picked up on it as well, staring wide-eyed at the woman instead of gravitating toward her toys as usual.

Was Fiona telling the truth? Yor didn’t know how to read her at all, but then again she was terrible at reading almost all social situations. Wasn’t it rather rude to accept an invitation into someone’s home, drink tea with them, and then say something so disheartening to their face? 

Or was Fiona just a straightforward person by nature? Yor often wished that social interactions could be easier and more transparent, that people could just state exactly what was on their minds instead of weaving riddles and injecting sarcasm into their words. Perhaps she should be grateful that Fiona had cut straight to the point.

But if it were true…

Yor turned away and focused on the coffee pot, not wanting to look at her husband any longer. From day one, he had been so generous and thoughtful and forgiving toward her. Never once had he criticized her for her mistakes, even when she’d let Anya run away and fall into the hands of terrorists, or when she gave him food poisoning with her terrible cooking. She had thought his behavior was too good to be true, but had tentatively come to accept it as the rarest of blessings, because he hadn’t given her any reason to believe otherwise.

No one was perfect, though. She knew this. Loid had to feel some level of frustration over all the inconveniences and extra work she caused him. Maybe he had just learned to hide it really well with his psychiatry training. If Fiona saw him every day at work and had similar training in psychiatry, it might make sense that he would confide in her about the burdens he faced at home.

Her eyes began to sting at the sense of betrayal coiling in her gut. No! She could not get emotional now! They still had a guest in their home, and Anya was here, and she hadn’t even confirmed whether Fiona was telling the truth. 

She had only just met Fiona. She didn’t know her at all. In contrast, she’d been living with Loid for months. She wasn’t his ‘real’ wife, but they were friends. She trusted him. She shouldn’t take a stranger’s word at face value before hearing his side of the story. 

The coffee was done brewing before she could fully consider Fiona’s motivations, either for telling the truth or lying. She shoved aside her unease, squared her shoulders, and mentally prepared herself to reenter the arena. If she just approached this like a battle or a meeting with Shopkeeper, maybe she could hold herself together and withstand any more hostile barbs the woman might throw her way.

Unfortunately, Anya threw a wrench into the situation when she suddenly spilled her hot cocoa, and Yor immediately felt Fiona’s judgmental gaze on her. She kept her head down and wiped up the mess while reassuring Anya. She could have reacted faster and caught the cup before it tipped, but she had been so distracted by their guest that she hadn’t noticed it in time. The feeling of exposure, of shame for falling short yet again as a mother and a homemaker, brought the heat of embarrassment to her face.

“Here, let me take that for you, Yor,” Loid said, and she jumped as his hand brushed hers over the soiled napkins. 

She released the napkins in a hurry and flushed even redder, mumbling something unintelligible when she meant to thank him or tell him he didn’t have to. He was already halfway across the room to the trash can before she could recompose herself.

Her keen hearing picked up a soft dismissive noise from Fiona, but when she glanced up at her, her face was as neutral as ever. 

“I’ll…I’ll take Anya to her room for a change of clothes,” Yor managed to say, and ushered the little girl away from the table. It was rather cowardly, but she couldn’t stand the woman’s scrutiny any longer, not in front of Loid, not when she was likely to slip up again with how jittery she felt.

“Mama’s okay,” Anya stated as soon as Yor closed the door behind them, and hugged her legs. 

Ignoring the cocoa stains on her daughter’s dress, Yor knelt and enveloped her in her arms. The knots of tension in her shoulders and neck loosened. Only Anya could calm her down this quickly. She was so small and fragile, yet so full of warmth and love and amazing levels of intuition. Suddenly it didn’t matter what a stranger thought of her. She already had the unconditional love of her daughter.

“Thank you, my dear Anya,” Yor said into her daughter’s hair. “Now let’s get you cleaned up.”

When they went back into the living room, Fiona had already left. Loid wasn’t there either. Yor could just barely make out his footsteps retreating down the stairwell in the hall, while the rain intensified to a proper thunderstorm outside the apartment. Perhaps he had gone to hail a cab for his colleague.

“Mama is the best mama,” Anya affirmed, drawing her attention away from the door. “Papa thinks so, too.”

Yor blushed and fidgeted with the hem of her sweater. “If you say so, sweetheart.”

“Anya knows so,” the girl said, as if passing the final verdict on a case. She patted Yor’s arm with a bright smile. “Don’t worry, Mama!”

—

“Hey, Loid. If this is about more babysitting, I’ve told you a thousand times I’m not a nanny, I’m a—”

“Um, hello Franky, this is Yor, actually…”

“Oh! Oh, shit. I mean, hi Yor! Didn’t expect you to be calling instead of Loid! Uh, what’s up?”

“I was just wondering if…well, maybe I shouldn’t…I didn’t know you disliked babysitting so much, we must have burdened you a lot—”

“No, no, not at all! Haha! I was just kidding, you know me! I joke with Loid all the time, gotta keep him on his toes! I love playing with Anya! When does the kiddo need me? How long?”

“Are…are you sure, Franky?”

“Yes! Yes, I’m absolutely sure! And I’ll give you a discount since it’s you asking and not your moody husband. Tell him I said that. I’d give him a better rate if he asked me more nicely.”

“Okay, then…could you perhaps do this Sunday at noon until about 2 PM? Take Anya somewhere out of the house? We’ll cover all your expenses, of course.”

“Sure! Lots of places we could go, I’ll make sure she has a blast!”

“Thank you so much, Franky. I know it’s not normal for me to be asking instead of Loid, but…I just wanted to do something nice for him, with how hard he works and all.”

“…Oh?”

“Yes, he’s always doing so much for me and Anya…sorry, I shouldn’t ramble so much and take up more of your time. And I’m sorry that he’s been moody toward you. That isn’t right.”

“It’s okay, it’s just another joke! You gotta learn not to take me so seriously if we’re gonna stay friends!”

“Oh…sorry! I’ll try my best! I really want to stay friends!”

“Yor. That was a joke too.”

“…”

—

Dear Loid,

I’m not very good at writing letters, so please forgive how short this is!

I wanted to talk to you about something that’s been on my mind. I feel nervous about it, just like last time, but our dinner turned out so wonderful by the end, I hope it’ll be the same this time. Don’t worry, I don’t want to leave! I’m still very happy here!

On Sunday at noon, if you’re free, I’ll cook my mother’s stew, you don’t need to do a thing. I called Franky to babysit Anya, too. 

Thank you!

Yor

—

Soon after she delivered the envelope under Loid’s door, he returned it in the same fashion, with a small yes floating in the midst of all the blank space on the bottom half of the paper. The word was underlined just a bit, the line hovering underneath the e alone. 

That little line made all the difference. Her heart fluttered at the sight of it, and she pressed the paper to her chest again before she slept, like a good luck talisman.

—

Saturday afternoon, Yor and Anya were playing outside when Loid and Fiona returned from their tennis tournament. Her assassin instincts automatically picked up on the woman’s presence before she came into clear view, sensing the hostility in her gaze from across the park. 

Anya patted her knee, looking up at her with wide eyes, and she calmed down. She couldn’t allow her client-facing demeanor to surface in front of her daughter.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Forger,” Fiona greeted in her cool, unaffected voice. Loid trailed hastily after her, one hand falling back to his side as if he’d been trying to stop her from approaching.

“Hello, Miss Fiona,” Yor replied, forcing a smile onto her face. Loid and Anya were both watching. She had to be normal!

“Hi, Yor! We just got back from our tournament. It was on her way, so Fiona gave me a ride,” Loid explained. Yor could have sworn he sounded more nervous than usual. She wasn’t certain what to make of that.

She just had to be patient and wait one more day. Tomorrow at lunch, they would clear up everything, hopefully.

“I thought I’d stop by and say hello,” Fiona said. Her one visible eye fell on the tennis racket in Yor’s hand. “Do you play tennis as well?”

“Uh, well, Anya really got into tennis when we practiced with Loid the other day,” she said, and Anya nodded enthusiastically.

“And thanks to that, I did well in the tournament,” Loid interjected with a disarming smile.

He stepped forward into the middle ground between Yor and Fiona, as if anticipating a confrontation of some sort. Her husband was quite psychologically attuned to the people around him, but Yor still felt a bit hurt. Did he not trust her to keep things civil? Did he suspect her of harboring violent intent? She thought she had done a good job concealing that part of her psyche from her family, but maybe she had slipped up recently.

“I’m so glad to hear that!” Yor said, trying to sound cheerful, without any defensiveness. 

“You must be quite a skilled player yourself, Mrs. Forger,” Fiona said. Yor did not miss how the woman clenched her hand into a fist. Was…was it possible that Loid suspected Fiona of violent thoughts, not her? “Might I challenge you to a game?”

If the air between them had been awkward before, now it was openly tense. Yor tried to demur, but Fiona insisted against Loid’s protests. The woman stepped forward decisively, holding her hand out for Anya’s racket. The girl shrank back and clutched the racket close to her chest, shaking her head.

Fiona huffed and turned toward Loid, who was carrying all his equipment in a shoulder bag. He glanced at Yor, deferring the decision to her.

At once, Yor was torn. She wished Loid would have just put his foot down and told his colleague no on her behalf. But perhaps this was just another way he was trying to respect her choices and boundaries. She was an adult, after all.

Part of her, the primal instincts of Thorn Princess, itched to settle the score and eliminate the threat once and for all. Figuratively, of course. This woman had barged into their family life and acted hostile toward Yor for no reason. Yor was no expert at social norms, but she knew such behavior was rude. In the terminology of City Hall gossip, Fiona was trying to be a homewrecker.

But the other part of her was hyper-aware of Loid and Anya’s presence, and even gentle-natured Bond wagging his tail beside them. Did she really want to put on such a display of aggression in front of them and stoop to her opponent’s level? Was a tennis game really going to prove anything? To her knowledge, mastery of tennis was not on the list of conventional wifely traits.

Loid was still waiting for a response, but he made a couple of subtle movements that brought Yor back into the moment. He tilted his head and used his right hand to tug on his left sleeve. 

If we’re in public, you can just tilt your head like this, or tug on your own sleeve right here. And I’ll know to change the topic or get us out of there. Okay? 

Relief flooded her and she nodded once with a grateful smile. He cleared his throat and transferred his shoulder bag to his front, unzipping it quickly and withdrawing his tennis racket.

Yor’s smile vanished into a look of shock. What was he doing? Had she misunderstood?

Fiona straightened and held out her hand triumphantly, waiting for Loid to deposit the racket into her palm. But he held onto it and gave it an experimental twirl.

“What do you say, Yor? Want to see a few new skills I picked up at the tournament?” Loid said, not looking at Fiona at all.

What…?

“Um…” Yor stared at him, trying to make sure she understood for certain. “You…you want to practice with me again?”

He shrugged casually. “Why not?”

“Aren’t…aren’t you tired? You must have played really hard all day.”

“Well, I still don’t have a hope of beating you, if that’s what you’re asking,” Loid chuckled. “Just humor me, it’ll be fun.”

“Excuse me,” Fiona tried to interrupt. “Mrs. Forger hasn’t yet answered my challenge.”

“I don’t think it’s a great idea for you to test your luck,” Loid told his colleague in a decidedly colder tone.

“Test my luck? I carried half of our games today,” Fiona said, as close to openly offended as Yor had seen her.

“Yes, and I carried the other half. Thanks to Yor’s help.”

Fiona did scoff openly then. “You can’t be serious. She may be fit, but she’s not a professional by any means.”

A professional what, Yor wondered. Tennis player? Athlete? Wife? 

Thorn Princess reared up once more within her, eager to put the enemy in her place. For some reason Anya clenched her hands into little fists and looked excited. That was enough to shake Yor out of the temptation to blow her own cover.

“I think her skill will speak for itself,” Loid said, signaling the end of the conversation. “Shall we?”

Yor tried to ignore the woman’s pointed glare and walked to the opposite side of the court from her husband, falling into a receiving stance. Loid tossed and caught the ball with one hand a few times, his gaze trained on her all the while. Even from this distance, she could see the glint of playfulness in his eyes. She also belatedly noticed his attire with some embarrassment; his shorts were borderline indecent, exposing nearly all of his strong, muscular thighs. 

Focus, Yor! Those are just tennis shorts!!

“Ready?” Loid called.

“Set, go!” Anya crowed from the sidelines.

Yor giggled, and Loid served. The ball cracked crisply against his racket and shot toward her at an impressive speed. Probably twice as fast as what she’d seen during their practice. 

She returned it easily without having to think, her eyes trained on her opponent, her husband, by instinct. As Thorn Princess, she never took her eyes off a threat. It was second nature to study his body for telltale signals of where he would move next, how he might try to trick her, whether he’d add spin to the ball’s trajectory.

Though they’d done this before during practice, now their game was full of competitive intent, not with the shared goal of helping Loid train, but to test each other’s capabilities. He moved incredibly fast and with a fluid grace she had only seen a few times, most prominently the fateful night they had run from his patients and sealed their deal with a grenade pin ring. But he was smiling, and showing off, and actually having fun.

Her real opponent was all but forgotten. Yor was vaguely aware that Fiona Frost was still there, observing them from a cold distance, perhaps not willing to come any closer and draw Anya’s attention. Whether she was unnerved by Yor’s skill or seething at the fact her challenge had been nullified, Yor didn’t know. She didn’t care to know, not at the moment.

Loid had done as he had promised and taken the pressure off her, saved her from doing something she might regret. Her blood began to hum with the electrifying high of meeting a worthy adversary on the battlefield as she realized he’d done more than that. Not only had he blocked a debilitating blow aimed at her, but he’d turned the weapon over to her. To show her attacker just what she could do with her vast hidden strength.

A smile bloomed on her face, and she darted around the court, twisting and diving and leaping to make impossible shots, and exulted at the sight of her husband matching her hit for hit. She was still holding back, of course, but it didn’t feel like she was missing out on anything. This was more fun than anything she had done in ages. She felt like she was flying.

At some point, she no longer sensed Fiona’s presence nearby. But neither she nor Loid stopped their game. They still hadn’t scored a point on each other, content to keep the ball on the court by a hairsbreadth, knowing just how far to push to test each other to their limits. 

It was the sound of his laughter that ended the contest. She paused to savor it in its rarity and missed her next backhand, but didn’t bother to race after the ball and intercept it. She simply stood there, laughing in return, and let the racket drop gently to the ground. Anya ran onto the court and hugged her, cheering and shouting out a nonsensical score, while Bond went up to Loid for his share of attention.

“Wow!” Yor said, only a bit out of breath. “You really did learn a lot at the tournament! You learn so fast, Loid!”

“I had a good teacher,” Loid said, considerably more winded than she was, but his voice still carried across the court. 

He came up to the net and extended his hand for a shake. She took it readily, his firm grip sending warmth tingling all the way up her arm. She could feel his racing pulse, the slight heaving motion of his chest as his lungs took in much-needed air. She could see the rivulets of sweat coursing down his brow, his flushed neck, into his dampened shirt. And she saw and felt his smile, the pure enjoyment he had gotten out of their friendly match. 

For a moment, she thought he might pull her in for a hug, even though the net still stood between them. But he let her go and stepped back, his face softening in a way that made her own heart race.

“Thank you,” she whispered. A familiar feeling of bewilderment seized her more strongly than before, this time filled with words she wanted to pour out to him, but she still didn’t know how just yet.

“Anytime,” Loid said warmly. “I’ve got your back.”

Chapter Text

Late Sunday morning, Yor sat at the vanity in her room, studying herself in the mirror. She wondered which outfit she should change into, if a dress might be too fancy. Or if she should add an extra bit of makeup to her face. Eyeliner and mascara usually had the most pronounced effect, but they would also be blatantly noticeable, and what kind of signal would that send? Did she want to send any kind of signal?

Last night, Yor had had trouble falling asleep. She wasn’t sure how to name what she felt, if there was even a single word to describe it. 

Her heart fluttered at random intervals, as if she were balanced on a high ledge, the wind whipping in her face, a clear view of a sheer hundred foot drop all around her. Whenever she thought of Loid, the soft smile he reserved for his family, his sigh of amused exasperation at Anya’s antics, the furrow in his brow when he confronted some new puzzle, his rare carefree laugh when he let his guard down…that was when her heart began to race and skip. Half in reckless danger, half in breathless elation. On her toes in a tennis match, unable to read where her opponent would aim next, for once unsure if she’d be fast enough to meet the challenge.

And if she wasn’t fast enough? What then?

This wasn’t a job, where slipping up spelled mortal injury or death. It was just a game. A game between friends. 

So what would happen if she slipped up in this game? 

Completely out of her element, she wished someone else could tell her the rules and outline the consequences. She even wished they could put a name to this elusive, bewildering mix of feelings within her, and give her the gift of certainty. 

And alongside that, she wished someone could rescue her from the next two hours she had concocted of her own free will. She had felt so sure and hopeful when she had written that short letter, and when Loid had stood up for her on the court yesterday. 

But now that it was nearly time for lunch, just the two of them, she felt drastically unprepared. The stew was already simmering nicely on the stove. She’d gotten up early to chop and dice all the ingredients ahead of time, and now the only task remaining was to add sour cream and eggs on top. She had retreated to her room to change, ostensibly because she didn’t want to smell like onions and cooking oil, but secretly because she wanted to look…nice. For Loid.

Her hands flew to her cheeks and she patted them vigorously. She couldn’t back out now. She wouldn’t. She wanted to do this. She wanted…

She wanted to have a real date with Loid, to see what it was like. Not going out to an upscale restaurant for appearances. But to spend unhurried time with him alone, to get to know him, to inch forward in this quietly thrilling game toward an answer for herself, and for him. She didn’t know if he thought of their relationship the same way. But whenever doubt crept in and threatened to throw her off balance, she remembered the tiny line under his response of yes on her letter. 

Such a delicate affirmation, almost unnoticeable in the dim light of her room. So similar to how he had approached her these past two months. Always remaining at a respectful distance, never encroaching on her personal space, perhaps even softening his appearance with casual, layered clothes that made his towering height and physicality a bit less prominent.

The original purpose of this lunch was to ask him what he really thought of her. If what Fiona had said was true. But that purpose seemed to have expired. Everything he had done in the past few days had indicated it was a blatant falsehood. Yor surprised herself with how certain she felt about that. 

It almost seemed wrong to have such confidence. It wasn’t just that she believed he wouldn’t speak poorly of her behind her back. It was that she believed he wouldn’t think poorly of her, either. And did she really know him that well, as his fake wife of two months, to intuit the place she occupied in his heart?

The sound of the front door opening shook her out of her musings. She stood quickly from her vanity, having only applied a light layer of foundation and peach lipstick, and chose a burgundy sweater dress from her closet. Outside, she heard Anya and Bond run excitedly to greet Franky, and then he traded some banter with Loid that she couldn’t quite make out. Soon the door closed behind them again, and Yor steeled herself. 

You can do this! This’ll be fun!

She entered the common space to find Loid setting out napkins and wine glasses on opposite sides of the table. Oh! She had forgotten the simplest of tasks after spending so much time on the stew. She hurried to help him with the rest of the silverware and pulled out his chair for him without even thinking. They shared a laugh as she realized what she was doing, but he humored her and seated himself, letting her push him toward the table, with only a slight look of surprise at how effortlessly she could move his weight.

The feeling of flight, of balancing on a tightrope, was back, but she managed to stay reasonably calm as she ladled generous portions of stew into two bowls. She took an extra few seconds in the kitchen to gather herself once more. It was just Loid. It was just lunch. It was just their little dining table. They ate meals together here all the time. They talked to each other, and looked each other in the eyes, all the time.

“This stew gets better every time you make it,” he commented. “Even the egg, you made perfectly this time, just the right texture.”

She blushed and looked down at her own bowl, at the rather misshapen egg she had given herself. She was improving, she supposed, since she’d gotten one out of two right. “Thank you. I’ll keep practicing. I want to be able to make more than just one dish.”

“Do you enjoy cooking?” he asked. 

She had to stop and consider. No one had ever asked her that before. In fact, she couldn’t remember anyone other than maybe Yuri caring to know what she liked and disliked. Maybe because most people just assumed she had no hobbies, given how socially awkward she could be.

“I’m not sure,” she said, hedging her bets. But as she said it, she knew that wasn’t the truth. She took a precarious step forward on that high ledge, daring not to be safe. “Actually…I don’t think I do.”

“Oh?” he said, tilting his head. Loid had this way of inviting others to speak, of showing genuine interest in what they had to say. No wonder he was such a popular psychiatrist at Berlint General. 

“I mean I…I enjoy some of it, I guess. The knifework. Who knew there were so many different knives for chopping and slicing and carving?” Belatedly she wondered if that sounded abnormal, but Loid’s face remained as serene and nonjudgmental as ever. “And I enjoy the end result. When it turns out good, that is. It makes me happy when you and Anya try my food and like it.”

“That does seem to be the best part about cooking, for most people. Getting to enjoy the finished product and serving it to others. But you’ve only said what you like about it, after telling me you don’t actually like it as a whole,” he noted.

“Is that bad?” she tried to backtrack. “I guess that’s a silly question, I know it’s bad. The girls at work are always talking about how I need to learn how to cook better to be a good wife.”

Loid’s smile grounded her before she could teeter off the edge. “Not at all. Those are separate issues. You are allowed to dislike something whether you’re good at it or not. And, cooking has nothing to do with how good of a wife you are. I meant what I said at the very beginning, at the Eden interview. I don’t care, I’ve never cared, about how well you cook. And neither does Anya.”

She bit her lip, disarmed and unsure what to say. “Thank you,” was all she could come up with. Loid nodded and spooned more stew into his mouth, already half finished. Her heart fluttered. He really was enjoying the meal she had worked so hard to prepare. 

“I guess I…” she ventured out into the wind again, thoughts gaining clarity as she spoke. “I’ve always felt like I should be better at a lot of things. Or at least show interest in them like other women my age do. Like I know I should enjoy cooking, and home decor, and maybe fashion.”

“And what if you don’t?” Loid said lightly.

“If I don’t…then…” Yor fought to find her footing, instinctively fearing that she’d give the wrong answer. But somehow she already knew that he wouldn’t count anything against her. “Then…I guess…I won’t be normal.”

“Mm.” A soft pause. For a moment she thought he was going to assure her that being normal wasn’t important. But instead, “I know how you feel.”

He laughed at her look of surprise. “Oh yes, I feel it too. Impostor syndrome. It’s extremely common, especially in a society like ours where there are so many ‘official’ rules and expectations around how good citizens should act.”

Yor instinctively tensed at the tangential reference to the surveillance state. Loid had never talked so freely with her before. He’d certainly never broached the topic of politics.

“Many of my patients at the hospital struggle with this as well. Recurring themes like ‘this is how wives are supposed to act,’ or ‘this is what parents do.’ They feel like they’re constantly missing the mark and that at any moment, they’ll get called out for it and humiliated. It’s an exhausting way to live,” he continued. “Don’t you think life is difficult enough as it is?”

“Yes,” she said in a hush. Was it really true that lots of people out there felt the same way she did? But how had she never noticed? Were they all expert actors? 

How could it be that Loid, of all people, also fell into that category?

“Striving to live up to your ideals is a very admirable thing, of course. But when those ideals start to feel like legal requirements or impossible goals, it’s easy to lose sight of who you are and where your true strengths lie. That’s why…” He paused just long enough to seem uncertain, as if weighing exactly which words should come next. “...I hope you feel comfortable enough at this point, with me and Anya, to be exactly who you are. No more, no less. Striving to perform for the outside world—that might still be necessary sometimes for all of us, but at least at home, within these four walls…I hope you know that it’s the last thing I want. ”

Oh.

Warmth bloomed in her chest, an ache almost too intense for her heart to contain. All of a sudden she was acutely aware of the physical distance between them, the short expanse of the dining table that demarcated her space from his. She wanted that distance to shrink. She wanted to sit next to him, like they did when they shared meals with Anya. Or…or…

“Thank you. I’m…” She bit her lip, her mind sorting through a torrent of emotion for the words, a handful of gold dust she might be able to offer him. “I’m really glad I married you, Loid.”

Now it was his turn to look surprised. Her heart skipped at the sight of his calm blue eyes widening, his lips parting just a sliver. In that moment, she began to believe that he indeed did suffer from the same insecurity that she did, that most of society did. He…he somehow hadn’t expected she would be happy with him as a husband. Or to already be comfortable enough to voice it aloud.

She smiled at him, unable to stop a giggle from escaping her lips. He looked rather adorable, taken aback like that, even though he quickly smoothed out his expression and laughed in return.

“I’m glad, too,” he said, and the inflection of his voice changed minutely. Odd. He had always sounded genuine to her, but somehow now it was as if a hidden layer had been peeled away, revealing something even more real.

Then he cleared his throat, and that extra layer was back. “Well, we have about half an hour, perhaps, before Franky and Anya come back. I hope I haven’t sidetracked us too much from what you wanted to talk about.”

That was right. She had invited him to lunch for a reason. 

“Oh, don’t worry about that! I, uh, I think we covered some of it already, anyway.”

“That’s good to hear. I think.” The furrow in his brow reappeared. “Unless…you were afraid I wasn’t happy with your cooking? Or with you in general, as a wife?”

“No! Well…sort of, maybe,” she said, a bit embarrassed.

The softness in his eyes gave way to sharp focus. “You were afraid I wasn’t happy with you?”

She looked down at her lap, the remainder of her stew having grown cold in her bowl. “It’s kind of silly, because between me writing that letter and now, I think some of my worries have gone away on their own. But…we’re still here, having lunch, so…I guess I should tell you.”

“I’m all ears. Please.”

This was it.

“Back when your colleague, Fiona, dropped by for the first time…I was…she seemed…I felt rather confused after our conversation. It caught me off guard, like there might be some things that I hadn’t noticed, problems I didn’t even know were there, and I didn’t know how to react. I mean, you’ve known each other much longer than I’ve known you, so it had to be true in some way, or at least I thought–”

“Yor,” Loid cut in, gently. “What exactly caught you off guard?”

“I don’t think it’s a problem anymore,” she tried to clarify, even though she knew she was still stalling. Why did this have to be so awkward? “Like I said, I think it’s mostly resolved itself in my mind, but there are still some things I don’t quite understand. Anyway, after she left that evening, I wanted to ask you about it directly, because that would be the right thing, the respectful thing to do…I didn’t want to assume anything was wrong when we could just…talk about it. Like we did before.”

Loid blew out a breath, as if he already suspected what was up. “Thank you, for being so thoughtful about what was bothering you. I know it’s not easy to have a straightforward conversation about something like this. But…I still don’t really know what ‘this’ is. What exactly did she do, or say?”

It was now or never. The leap wouldn’t be so bad. The wind around the ledge had died down for the most part. She could keep her balance.

“She told me…that…you often, um, that at work, you tend to…complain. About me.”

Silence.

Loid’s right hand had been resting on the table, near his glass of wine. His knuckles tightened infinitesimally, even as the rest of him held completely still. The focus in his eyes darkened into something she had never seen from him before. 

“Let me get this straight,” he said slowly. “When it was just the two of you here, before I came back with Anya and Bond, she told you that I complain about you at the hospital?”

“Y-yes. I know it’s silly, I couldn’t believe–”

“It’s a lie,” he said adamantly, and if she didn’t know better, she would have thought he’d barely held back from adding a curse into his words. “It’s not silly, it’s absolutely ridiculous. It’s so incredibly…I don’t even have the words to describe it, just hearing about it now.”

“I’m sorry, I should have told you earlier–”

“No, that’s not what I meant,” he said, tamping down on the aggression in his voice with some effort. “It wasn’t on you to have to tell me about this, or question whether it could be true, and feel like…God, these past few days, you must have been wondering what the hell was going on, and then yesterday…”

He drew a hand through his hair so it fell loose and a bit messy across his forehead.

“Yor, I would never complain about you to anyone. I don’t have any complaints,” he said, and the edge of desperation in his demeanor filled her with guilt. 

“I know! I know it couldn’t be true, that’s why it threw me off so badly. You’re such a good person, you’ve been so kind and genuine toward me, I just couldn’t figure out how something like that could be true, even though I know I’m far from a perfect wife and I don’t know what I’m doing most of the time, but to doubt you… to doubt who you are as a person, to believe that you’d speak unkindly about someone behind their back…I knew something had to be wrong.”

“First thing when I get back to work tomorrow, I’ll set everything straight with Fiona,” he said darkly, and his knuckles shifted so that the knobs of bone were clearly visible, a man primed for a fight. “Whatever her reasons, that was utterly wrong and unacceptable of her to tell such a lie. I don’t know what’s gotten into her. And on top of that, there was her behavior yesterday–”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to do that. Don’t…don’t go overboard with it,” she tried to reason. “Honestly, I’m just relieved to hear you confirm what I already came around to on my own. Whatever she thinks, I don’t care as much, now. If we’re okay, then I’m happy.”

“We’re okay. We’re definitely okay,” he assured her. He reached that same hand that he’d clenched into a white-knuckled fist across the table, long fingers entwining with hers as if grasping for a handhold on a difficult climb. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, Loid,” she laughed, that old ache tingling in her chest again. “I had so much fun during our match yesterday. That was what helped me get over it the most. Oh, and how you responded to my invitation so quickly, with the way you wrote that ‘yes.’ Thank you.”

He shook his head, still angry at his colleague, or at himself, or both. “I should have said something earlier. Sometimes I just…I don’t…I should just submit my resignation as a psychiatrist, if I can’t figure out basic signs like this.”

She giggled again, her fingers warm in his hold. “Who’s beating themselves up about being normal now?”

The tension in his expression faded and he cracked a smile at last. “Touche. Still…I should have noticed, and done something before it got out of hand. Thank you, Yor, for giving me the benefit of the doubt. It must have been hard. You must have felt disappointed, betrayed. Maybe fearful.”

“I’ll always give you the benefit of the doubt, Loid,” she said. It was a promise. “I trust you.”

A flicker of something passed through his eyes, a shadow of surprise and vulnerability. That was twice tonight she had seen that look on his face. This time, she thought there was an undercurrent of guilt there, too.

But just as quickly as it came, it disappeared beneath a soft, endearing smile. She wondered then if there might be an answering ache in his heart, a small bit of longing or kinship or—she didn’t want to name it out of fear of making it vanish. Her own feelings were becoming crystal clear to her, but she hadn’t realized the next obstacle after that: deciphering what he felt, if he felt anything at all. That was a much more terrifying, life-altering question to bring into the light than this minor misunderstanding over his coworker. 

Time. She had time. Not literally right this moment, as Franky was about to bring Anya back, but in the scheme of their lives and this precious new family they had forged together, she had time. She wouldn’t rush.

“I trust you, too, Yor,” he said, and she reveled in the warmth of his voice, the subtle shape of his mouth around her name, before the light patter of footsteps sounded from the hallway outside. “Thank you for this.”

“Of course, Loid,” she replied, and they let go of each other’s hands in time to greet their daughter and friend, a separate but united front.

Chapter Text

As Yor waited for the metro during afternoon rush hour, she couldn’t stop thinking about her weekend lunch with Loid.

I trust you, too, Yor.

Loid’s words, which had initially filled her with such hope, now felt heavier and heavier against the secrets she kept from him.

I’m counting on you, Thorn Princess, to do your part in keeping this world a beautiful place.

She had just left Garden headquarters where Shopkeeper had briefed her on her latest assignment: to protect the surviving members of the Gretcher crime family on a luxury cruise ship as they fled Ostania. It was unlike any assignment she had taken before; while she’d acted as a bodyguard on a few occasions, this time she would have to guard a young mother and baby. 

The assignment should have felt like a shot of reinvigoration. She was proud of her work for Garden, cleansing the country of the vilest scum in the underworld. Making Ostania a safer place to live for ordinary civilians like Loid and Anya and Yuri. 

But recently…she had lost that certainty. Her heart wasn’t quite in it anymore, and that was a dangerous place for a Garden assassin to be. She needed to be in top form with unerring focus in order to do her job well and ensure her own survival.

Before she had joined the Forgers, she had been on her own for quite some time. Day to day life had been straightforward, monochrome, simple. She’d shuffled through each day listlessly until she received the next call from Shopkeeper and seamlessly awoke to the sharpened instincts of Thorn Princess. She’d felt the most alive during her jobs for Garden, dancing on the edge of danger, cutting down her foes like wheat until justice was served.

Now, her everyday life had gained vibrancy and color that she had never experienced before. Catching falling autumn leaves with Anya, staying up late to chat with Loid over tea, exploring the city together on weekends…they no longer did these things to keep up appearances. They were real, and growing more real by the day. 

Where did Thorn Princess fit into this new life? She’d joined this family to better conceal her job from the authorities, but she hadn’t thought of the toll it would take to conceal it from her husband and daughter. From Loid, in particular. He had said he trusted her, but she didn’t deserve that trust. 

Maybe…maybe she could retire from Garden. She could make this her last job, and tell Shopkeeper after the cruise that she intended to resign, or perhaps enter reserve status if he wasn’t willing to let her go just yet.

But what if Loid didn’t feel the same way as she did? Or if she messed up and ruined their relationship, or if he met someone else he liked better and wanted to break off their current arrangement? 

It was a huge step to leave Garden without knowing for sure where exactly she and Loid stood, where their not-quite-relationship was headed. She was flying blind, figuring everything out as she went, trusting Loid to accept her fumbling in good faith. 

So then…

She paused in her thoughts when she stepped onto the next train and suddenly caught sight of her brother dozing in one of the seats. Fond surprise replaced pensive worry as she called out to him.

It turned out he had just returned from a work trip. She was grateful for the coincidence, allowing them to cross paths even briefly during the workday. Yuri worked so hard all the time, he hardly had time to visit her. She could tell he barely slept and probably wasn’t eating all that well either. 

When he declined her invitation to dinner, she remembered the other reason he stayed away from her new home. He still didn’t like Loid, and he merely tolerated Anya.

“What’s wrong, sis?” he asked when her smile faded to a frown.

She had never confronted Yuri about that first night he had met Loid and behaved so rudely. How he had pressured them to kiss as if he were the final judge on the legitimacy of their marriage. 

Yuri had almost never offended or hurt her growing up. At least not intentionally. What he had done that night had been hurtful. Wrong. It didn’t matter if in his mind he believed he had been protecting her.

“Yuri, I would like you to come over for dinner sometime when you’re free,” she said softly. “And I’d like you to apologize to Loid and me for your behavior two months ago.”

Yuri’s eyes widened almost comically. “What? Apologize? For what? What did I do?”

“You don’t remember?”

“Well…” His eyes shifted to the left, which he had always done as a boy when he had something to hide from her. “I guess…I wasn’t as nice as I could have been to Loidy. But! He just suddenly appeared out of nowhere, some random guy you just forgot to tell me about! For a year! A guy you got married to without inviting me to the wedding! Did you even have a wedding?”

Next stop, Fogue Square, the recorded voice overhead intoned.

This was not a good place to have this conversation. And Yuri’s questions were reasonable. He must have been holding back from confronting her as well, so he wouldn’t upset her.

Instead of panicking, Yor just sighed. One of the things she had started to pick up from Loid was how to see the intent behind a person’s words. Yuri didn’t actually want to know about her wedding, not primarily. He felt hurt and betrayed, left in the dark about a major change in her life.

“I appreciate how you’ve always wanted to protect me, Yuri. But I’m a grown woman and seven years older than you. I can make my own decisions and protect myself just fine. Joining Loid’s family has been one of the best decisions of my life. He and Anya truly make me happy, and I hope you’ll accept that. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, and when we have more time maybe we can talk about that. For now, please just trust me, okay?”

“…Okay, sis,” Yuri sniffed, suddenly emotional. “I…I just wanted to be someone you could count on. But then…Loidy just swooped in, and…and it feels like you don’t need me anymore.”

Now stopping at Fogue Square.

“Oh, Yuri,” she said, and stood together with him as the train slowed down. She enveloped him in a fierce hug, murmuring in his ear, “I know I can count on you. I’ll always, always love you, I hope you know that.”

“Sis!” he hiccuped, dangerously close to crying. She let go of him and pushed him gently toward the sliding doors. 

“I promise we’ll talk again soon! Get home safely, Yuri!” she said as he stepped backward through the doors. His teary eyes remained focused on her as other commuters brushed past him. 

“Love you, sis!” he called right before the doors closed.

She smiled fondly at the sight of him waving enthusiastically to her from the platform, his tall frame receding into the distance. 

Where had all the years gone? It seemed like just yesterday Yuri had been Anya’s age, wide-eyed and curious about the world, clinging to her legs and begging her for an extra bedtime story. Now he was an independent adult with an impressive job, rising in the ranks quickly through his hard work and natural gifts. 

He didn’t need her to support him anymore. Before she had met Loid, he had even offered to cover part of her rent or start paying her back for his university tuition. She had declined, of course, insisting that she had more than enough savings for herself (which was true).

It only added to her conviction to leave Garden. There was just the cruise assignment to get through. And, hopefully soon after that, she would work up the courage to tell Loid how she felt.

—

It was harder than she thought to part ways from Loid and Anya at the start of the cruise. There were many young couples and families on board the ship, excited to enjoy the coastal sights and entertainment, going about their normal lives completely unaware of the danger that lurked all around them. She wished that she could be like them, simply here to have a relaxing time with her family.

But they weren’t a real family, as the client, Olka Gretcher, reminded her.

They’re just for show, right? For your cover identity?

Yor had struggled to respond as the woman and her infant son watched her curiously. I…I’m not sure anymore.

Perhaps sensing that the topic troubled her, Olka had changed tack and asked to go above deck to get some fresh air. Yor was grateful for the diversion. Already this assignment was proving to be more difficult than she predicted. The ship was vast and full of nooks and crannies where an assailant could hide, lay a trap, or plant an explosive device. From Garden’s intel, there were dozens of hitmen prowling the ship, hunting for Olka and her son. The woman was in disguise, but Yor guessed they would still be relatively easy to identify. She hadn’t seen many infant boys of Gram’s age during the boarding process. She remained extra vigilant even though the deck was empty save for the three of them.

The other difficulty was the constant worry in the back of her mind for Loid and Anya’s safety. She knew Loid had plenty of street smarts and even some combat ability based on what she’d seen of his concussive therapy, but he probably wouldn’t be able to fend off a professional assassin. What if he and Anya got caught in the crossfire somehow? With the rate that Anya tended to wander off and get into trouble, Yor fervently wished she could be there to defend them both. 

Perhaps she should send a message to them with a subtle warning to stay away from certain areas of the ship. But as soon as the thought crossed her mind, she knew it was a bad idea. She was terrible at subtle language. And it would undoubtedly cause Loid to worry about her or worse—report her warning to the ship’s security. Not to mention Director McMahon would forbid her to take such a risk in the first place.

What was she doing, questioning the parameters of her assignment? She had never done this before!

If Shopkeeper and the Director knew how preoccupied she was, they would surely have chosen a different assassin for this job. She and all her colleagues had trained relentlessly from youth to maintain razor sharp, unwavering focus throughout an assignment. The objective came first. A distracted state of mind opened the door to all sorts of fatal mistakes and opportunities for the client to escape. In this case it was even worse. At least if a client escaped, Garden would have other chances to hunt them down. Here, if she slipped up, a mother and her child would die.

And then she did slip up.

She should have remembered the Director’s specific door knock sequence. It was one of the critical details in the mission briefing, something she was supposed to memorize as clearly as a client’s face. In any other circumstance, she would have realized something was off and eliminated the threat in a second.

Thankfully Olka and Gram were unhurt as she and the Director quickly took care of the assassin posing as room service. She had little time to reflect or apologize to the Director for her mistake as they immediately moved the family out of the area. 

Thorn Princess awakened fully when she donned her face mask and navigated through the packed crowd in the ship’s lounge. No more slip-ups. No more distractions. Even if she chanced upon Loid and Anya, she would not falter. She would find some way to explain herself to them later. Loid had said he trusted her. She had to hope that that trust would hold, just enough to have a conversation. And then…and then if he didn’t want her in his family anymore, she would deal with it then.

No distractions.

They made it through the lounge without bloodshed, but in the midst of the shopping promenade, her next opponent attacked without warning, swinging a deadly sickle on a long chain. A weapon she didn’t have much experience countering. A crowd of civilian onlookers gathered as she dodged his first few strikes, and she had no way of dispelling their attention. She would have to kill him in front of all these eyewitnesses, and get her clients out of there somehow. But the ensuing panic would likely cause the ship to turn around and return to port. She could not let that happen!

And then, to her utter horror, Anya’s voice called out to her from among the murmurs of the spectators.

“Wow, that was awesome! You’re the coolest, circus lady!”

…What?

Yor had little time to feel grateful when Anya’s innocent remark put the crowd at ease in an instant. Yes! Somehow, just in the nick of time, Anya’s appearance had turned from the worst thing that could have possibly happened to a key opening for Yor to do her work without getting caught. She quickly knocked her opponent unconscious and bundled him away for discreet disposal as raucous applause erupted around her. 

Yor forced all thoughts of Anya out of her mind until she led the clients safely into their new room and secured the area. She thought she could take a breather, just a small one, so that her nerves could rest from the high of battle and the constant hum of her trigger instinct. But with the Director’s abrupt arrival, she stood at attention once again, feeling his glare like the edge of a blade.

“I apologize, Director,” she said softly before he could begin his reprimand. She bowed her head low. “I should have remembered the coded knock.”

His assessing gaze burned against the top of her head as he assembled his own weapons for patrol. The pause was only a few seconds long, but it felt like an eternity. Enough for a Garden assassin to kill a dozen enemies.

“We cannot afford any more mistakes, Mrs. Forger,” Director McMahon said at last. “Stay focused on the job. Or everyone will die.”

Even after Zeb, Olka, and Gram were asleep and deep silence fell upon the room, Yor remained vigilant. To maintain an elevated level of alertness for this long was something only the most elite of assassins could achieve. She was among the elite of the elite within Garden, tasked with the most difficult jobs, deployed against the highest number of well-trained enemies.

Or at least, she had been among the elite. After today, she wasn’t so sure anymore. 

She thought back to the battle with the sickle-wielding man. In hindsight, she could have dispatched him faster. There were openings she had missed, acceptable risks she hadn’t taken, because she had hesitated. 

She had hesitated because Anya was watching. Even though the little girl hadn’t known who she was, something deep within her rebelled against the idea of drawing blood or sustaining a wound in front of her daughter.

And if she had gotten injured, how would she have explained that to Loid? He’d bought some of her excuses before because none of her injuries had been prominent or left any exposed scars. But a slash to the face or neck? Ugly bruises on her arms if that chain had struck her? He would think someone had attacked her, and ask questions she couldn’t answer. 

Or…or she could be honest. She could tell him something approaching the truth, couldn’t she? That she indeed had been attacked by some criminal who’d snuck aboard the ship, but she’d managed to defend herself, or security had apprehended the assailant in time. She could reassure him that he didn’t need to worry about her.

Her stomach churned at the thought of telling Loid such a lie. But why now? She had been lying to him all along. Not just about her injuries, but about who she was. The secret life she had led since the age of fourteen. The life she continued to lead, the entire reason she had asked him to marry her in that alley. 

Who was she trying to fool, thinking that she could enter a real relationship with him? With anyone, other than another member of Garden? How could she be so naive?

Even if she left Garden after this assignment, would it be fair to Loid if she never told him about the past thirteen years of her life? Didn’t he deserve the full truth about the kind of person he would be committing himself to? The kind of person he would allow to parent Anya?

She was getting distracted again. She pulled herself back into the moment, into the oppressive darkness of the room and the faint ticking of the clock on the wall, the fitful snores of her clients as they slept. The carpeted hallway outside was silent. Here in this little pocket of space, it felt as if the entire ship had fallen dormant. 

But she knew better. Somewhere out there, scores of highly trained enemies were still planning their next move. Stalking the sprawling labyrinth of the ship, concealed weapons at the ready. Their skills might not match hers, but they had the advantage of numbers, and of surprise. They had the luxury of resting, while she could not sleep a wink until her clients were safely at their destination.

She had to endure. She just had to do her job for the next twenty hours, and then…then she would figure out everything else. 

She allowed herself one final, fleeting, selfish thought as she observed the sleeping forms of the little family in front of her.

I’ll protect them. Olka, Gram, and Zeb. I’ll protect them as if it were Loid and Anya’s lives on the line. I won’t make a single mistake.

—

The swordsman was good. A league above all the other hitmen Yor had gone up against so far. With the Director out of commission, she faced down the stone-eyed man alone. And worse, the debilitating effects of exhaustion were beginning to drag her down. 

After fighting at least twenty trained assassins and going two days without sleep, she knew this might be her last fight. The swordsman knocked the stiletto out of her hand. She was disarmed, weakened, off balance. Her opponent knew it as well.

“If you fear death, then you should withdraw,” he stated flatly. His tone carried no judgment or condescension. He was not like the others, salivating with greed and willing to double-deal for self-preservation. He was a rare opponent who fought with honor.

Still, Yor stood her ground and refused to betray her clients. Her vows to Garden were sacred. Second only to her vows to protect her family. Keeping her little brother alive was the whole reason she had committed herself to this blood-soaked life to begin with.

But somewhere along the line, her priorities had blurred. She had thought she was doing this for Yuri. But then he had grown up and no longer needed her support. Slowly, without her noticing, her allegiance to Garden had taken precedence over everything else. Her jobs had been the only thing she looked forward to at the end of the day. To feel alive. To feel like she was worth something. 

She had taken on a cover family so that she could continue to fulfill her vows to Garden without drawing suspicion from the SSS. She hadn’t put much forethought into it. Hadn’t considered that perhaps she could have simply quit, and fully embraced civilian life.

She hadn’t put much forethought into anything before recently. Her life had never been worth much thought.

But now, as she faced off against an opponent stronger and faster than her, staring death in the eyes, she had never felt a greater will to live.

In the unlikely event you should die or be seriously injured, Forger will be informed that you were forced to take an emergency transfer, the Director had said.

If she died here…

Loid and Anya would never know what had happened to her. She would vanish without a trace, her body thrown into the sea. Yuri, too, would never know her fate. Her disappearance would absolutely crush him. Just imagining her little brother trapped in the agony of grief, without any answers, without closure, stole the breath from her lungs.

And Loid…he had already lost a wife. Anya had already lost a mother. She would put them through that torment all over again. She knew they would mourn her. Even though she and Loid were only friends, not truly husband and wife, she knew he would grieve, at least for a short time.

Bare-handed, she took a deep breath and centered herself as the swordsman raised his weapon once more. She ignored the jibes of the bespectacled man, offering her a cut of the bounty if she stood down. There was just the enemy in front of her. His dark eyes narrowed, assessing her stance, trying to pinpoint her most glaring weakness. She had too many to count, bloodied and bruised from her previous battles.

No matter what, she would survive. She would not leave Loid and Anya and Yuri bereft, not now, not when her life had taken on meaning and color and love again. She finally dared to name it, that fierce ache in her chest, that exhilarating cocktail of fear and hope and devotion all packed together, to the point where her heart felt like it might burst. 

Even if she suffered an egregious wound, if she sustained a scar that she couldn’t conceal…she trusted that Loid would understand.

To endure such a harsh job for the sake of another, for the sake of something greater than oneself…I truly admire that.

She would survive, and tell him just how much those words had become her mantra of hope when it seemed there was no way out. There was a way. She just had to fight without fear.

Shedding the last vestiges of her fear, she shot forward and reengaged the enemy. The clang of steel resounded across the deck as she met the edge of his sword with the reinforced metal of her shoe. Mid-charge, she’d snatched the stilettos off her own feet and now wielded one in each hand. They were shorter and nowhere near as versatile as her real stilettos, but they granted her the brief element of surprise. The swordsman’s eyes widened at the unexpected trick, and in his split-second of hesitation, she jabbed one sharp heel toward his throat. 

He reacted just in time to block with the flat of his blade, but she’d predicted that. Unseen, her other hand went low and drove the point of her other shoe hard into his abdomen, puncturing organs and punching the wind out of him. A soundless gasp, and he doubled over, slashing his weapon blindly in her direction. She jumped back and threw her heel at full force, fast as a bullet, and this time it struck true. With a stiletto embedded in his neck, her opponent fell.

Armed with one shoe, she whirled to block gunfire from the bespectacled assassin. She charged at him, teeth bared, knowing she had the upper hand now that only he and a few stragglers remained. Shots rang out from elsewhere—the man ducked, then stumbled, as blood sprayed from his leg. Director McMahon had rejoined the battle with his own weapons. Together, the two of them took down the rest of the hitmen who had been hiding and waiting fruitlessly for an opening.

Finally. Finally, the bulk of her job was done. Now she only had to escort the clients to the lifeboat and guard their departure. And then. Then, she could see her family.

Chapter Text

Those hands of yours are the reason this child has a future.

I know this might not be possible for you…but I want you to know…I’ll be praying for you and your family to find peace and happiness.

Olka’s parting words stayed with Yor throughout the morning as she prepared to meet Loid and Anya. She studied her appearance in the mirror with some worry. Even with makeup, she could not fully conceal the swelling in her cheek.

But it was alright. The worst was over. No matter what happened, she trusted that they could talk it through.

Clad in a flowing dress and wide-brimmed hat, Yor waited for her family at the dock. Overhead, the sun shone bright and unobscured, its rays warming her skin just like little Gram’s farewell hug. It had been so long since she had held a baby that small. The innocence of his gummy smile, the chubby dimples on his tiny hands as they patted her face, heedless of the blood and grime on her body, filled her with gratitude and a sort of quiet pride unlike any other job she’d had. 

She couldn’t wait to hold Anya again, her own daughter, who was still so small but so full of love, and growing up so fast. She would do anything to protect her from harm and ensure she could grow up healthy and happy. Just like she’d done for Yuri.

She couldn’t wait to see Loid again. Her husband and best friend. She couldn’t wait to spot him from a distance, to study his reaction the moment he recognized her, to anticipate what his smile would look like and what he would say after the past two days of separation. Had he missed her? And if he had, would he tell her?

Among the steady stream of passengers disembarking the ship, she caught sight of Anya first, her pink hair still prominently visible underneath a sun hat. The little girl skipped ahead of her father, obviously excited for a packed day of island exploration. Loid warned her not to run too fast as she attempted a Bondman-style jump and landing. Neither of them had seen Yor yet.

She couldn’t help but grin when Loid suddenly began skipping on his own, undoubtedly goaded by Anya. He had the most determined expression on his face, just like when they’d visited the penguin enclosure at the aquarium. He took everything about parenting so seriously, it was utterly adorable.

Then he looked up and met her eyes. She got her wish and saw the moment of recognition cross his face. He halted mid-skip and reddened immediately, sputtering a greeting. It was so unlike his usual put-together self, and yet she wasn’t surprised. Loid was many things, but a devoted father above all.

“Mama!” Anya exclaimed, and ran toward her. 

Yor didn’t hesitate. She scooped the little girl up and spun her around, booping her on the nose. “Anya! I missed you so much!”

Anya’s bright green eyes practically sparkled with joy. She laughed and wrapped her arms around Yor’s neck, leaning her head against her shoulder. The same shoulder where Gram’s little body had rested for their brief goodbye.

“I missed you both so much,” Yor murmured into her daughter’s ear. 

She looked up and met Loid’s gaze again. His expression was relaxed, embarrassment giving way to that fond smile he only ever saved for Anya. And sometimes, for her, too.

“Yor. I’m so glad you got our message.”

He was still too far away. After all this time, he still thought he needed permission to come close to her. That wouldn’t do.

She approached him with Anya still in her arms. “I wouldn’t miss today for the world. Have you both had fun so far?”

“Yes! The funnest fun ever!” Anya proclaimed, raising her head from her shoulder. “We ate the yummiest food, we swam in the huge rainforest pool, Papa climbed the big rock wall with Anya on his back–”

“Yor, your face looks a little swollen. Is everything okay?” Loid interjected.

Of course, with his keen eye, he would have noticed right away, even though she had tried to obscure the injury by leaving her hair down. Anya tensed up and fell quiet, looking at her in concern.

“I’m okay. It was just a small accident. I’ll tell you about it later.”

Loid furrowed his brow, his eyes flickering to Anya before he nodded. The moment of risk had passed, for now. He never liked discussing serious matters in front of Anya.

“Let’s go have fun, Mama!” Anya said, tugging on her jacket collar. “You don’t have to work anymore, right?”

For a moment, the little girl looked oddly solemn, as if peering through her to the truth of everything that had transpired the past two days. As if she somehow knew of Yor’s decision about her career. But no matter how intuitive Anya was, there was no way she could know that.

Yor shook her head with a light smile. “No, I don’t. I’m going to spend all my time with you and your Papa today. Should we get started?”

They wasted no time exploring the town with its many steep hills and winding curves and charming side streets, sampling local snacks and desserts from outdoor vendors and quaint cafes. They undertook every adventurous excursion the island had to offer, from a ropes course to spelunking to horseback riding to building sandcastles on the beach. Anya’s energy seemed boundless, growing ever more excited with each stop they made, her curious expression lighting up with joy as she made new discoveries around every bend.

As Anya ran into the petting zoo, Yor found herself alone with Loid for the first time that day. He stood a good distance away as usual, but she could tell he was observing her carefully. A familiar, quiet tension filled the space between them, the air pulled taut by unspoken questions.

Yor wouldn’t shy away this time. Even if they had only five minutes at a time to talk before they got home to Berlint, she wouldn’t let it go to waste.

She closed the distance between them in a few measured steps, and though he didn’t physically withdraw, the minute tics in the set of his shoulders gave him away. He was uncertain.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, and relaxed his shoulders, a conscious act.

“I’m happy.” She looked up into his face and reached for his hand. After a brief moment of hesitation, he reached back, meeting her a quarter of the way. 

She let the warmth and weight of his palm settle into her consciousness. She listened to the light whistling of the breeze from the distant ocean, the rustle of leaves in the trees behind them, the delighted laughter of children playing with farm animals nearby. She felt the calluses on his skin and the ridges of his knuckles as she intertwined their fingers.

“Yor?” he said, still uncertain. His focus shifted to her bruised cheek.

“I feel so at peace with you and Anya,” she said, and drew his attention back to her eyes.

There was that look again on his handsome face. Vulnerability and surprise. It revealed his humility, that he didn’t expect to be the reason she felt this way. Humility, and perhaps something else. Perhaps he guarded himself like she did. Not because of secrets as dark as an underground career, but because of the tragedy in his past. He’d loved someone before and lost her, and had to raise Anya all on his own. Underneath all his professional competence and chivalrous courtesy, he bore a weight he seldom let others see. She longed to help him carry it.

“I feel the same,” he responded in a tone she had only heard once before. When he had told her he was glad he had married her, too.

“Papa! Mama!” Anya called, and the moment between them was broken. They turned together to welcome their daughter, but unlike in the past, they didn’t jump apart.

Anya spotted their interlinked hands and gasped. Loid gave Yor’s hand a squeeze, as if bracing them both for what was to come.

“Papa and Mama are flirting! For real!” 

Yor giggled and shifted closer to Loid. She didn’t feel the need to answer her daughter in words when they’d allowed themselves to be caught red-handed.

“Did you have fun with the animals?” Loid asked instead. 

Anya nodded fiercely. “Lots of fun! I wanna see more animals now! Fishies and dolphins!”

The three of them spent the rest of the afternoon snorkeling around the reef and trying their hand at surfing. While Yor luckily hadn’t suffered any serious wounds, she was still grateful for her diving suit and the generous coverage it provided. She had sustained a fair number of bruises from the battle as well as older scars that would surely draw Loid’s attention, if he had noticed her swollen face so easily.

There was another reason she felt grateful for their rented diving attire. It kept her from seeing too much of Loid. 

She had grown more comfortable with him than ever, but there was still a wide expanse between holding hands and looking at his half-naked body without blushing five shades of red. As it was, the diving suit fit him perfectly and accented the broad cut of his shoulders and taper of his waist, especially when he emerged from the water with the dark fabric plastered to his skin. In her state of distraction, she forgot her own strength and pushed Anya too hard on the surfboard, sending her flying across the waves like a rocket. 

“Oh no! Anya!” she shouted in alarm. 

Loid intercepted their daughter just in time with an expert turn of his own surfboard, and Yor breathed a sigh of utter relief as he carried her toward shallow water.

“I’m so sorry!” she gushed repeatedly. It hadn’t been the first time she had lost control of her strength in front of her family, but this time she’d almost injured Anya.

Anya’s eyes were shining with excitement, not a trace of fear or shock on her face. “That was so fun, Mama! I wanna do it again!”

“No more,” Loid put his foot down, but he didn’t sound angry. “It’s alright, Yor, no harm done.”

“But…”

“I think we’ve had quite enough fun for the day,” he said to Anya. “We should get back to the ship soon so your mother can rest.”

“Oh, no, don’t worry about me! I’m fine! We can keep exploring!” Yor tried to deflect.

“Anya’s tired too,” their daughter suddenly declared with an exaggerated yawn. “Wanna nap now.”

Loid gave her a puzzled look, but shrugged and turned to Yor with a half-smile. “Shall we?”

As they made their way back to the ship, Anya turned out to be telling the truth. She was utterly exhausted and soon slumped against her father’s leg. Loid dutifully lifted her up, and she dozed off against his shoulder, her little arms draped around his neck. Yor’s heart warmed. She thought once again of that brief window of time she had held Gram, and wished rather selfishly that Anya had gone to her instead of Loid. But against her will, her own feet began to drag, and she grew lightheaded.

“Why don’t we sit for a bit on that bench? We still have some time before the boarding call,” Loid suggested. 

She gratefully accepted and took a seat beside him. He shifted Anya to his other shoulder so they could see each other better. At the same time, she moved closer to him until their knees bumped.

They had shared more touches today than any day she could remember. She had memorized each point of contact since the beginning of their unusual relationship. 

He had shielded her from his patients in the alley, then taken her hand and placed a grenade pin ring on her finger. 

Their hands had accidentally brushed that night Yuri had come over, which had led to her first kiss. A kiss she still felt conflicted about, evoking a shadow of shame and loss. But that was all it was to her now—a shadow. 

Then she had reached for his hand during their first dinner alone at home. To reassure him that she didn’t want to leave. To try to convey just a bit of her gratitude for his kindness.

Another accidental brush of their fingers when Fiona had visited, when he had taken the cocoa-stained napkins from her. Days later, they’d shaken hands at the end of their impromptu tennis match.

Finally, he’d reached for her hand at the end of their second dinner together, to affirm his regard for her, swearing that he had never and would never complain about her behind her back. 

I trust you, they had told each other.

“What’s that?” Loid said, and leaned toward her. 

She must have spoken aloud, but since they’d sat down, she was rapidly losing the battle to stay awake. This close to him, she could feel his body heat and the solidity of his physical presence, the strength in his frame, a wall of protection against the intangible threats she had always struggled to defend against.

Can you promise me something, Loid? she thought she heard herself say.

He nodded and leaned even closer, so that his breath ghosted across her bangs. Her eyes drooped shut, and she lost awareness of what he was saying, if he was saying anything at all, as exhaustion gave way to warmth and rest, in the safest place she could imagine.

—

Yor gradually came to, with the odd sensation that she was floating very slowly in molasses. As she stretched her limbs in the gray darkness, she realized that she was on the Princess Lorelei once again, back on the open sea. It was the last day of the cruise. It had to be nighttime already. 

But where was she? As her bleary eyes adjusted to the dark, her combat senses remained dormant. There was no threat nearby. She was surrounded by the familiar scents of home. The laundry detergent she used to wash all their clothes. The particular brew of chamomile tea that she favored for late night chats. And, threaded throughout those was the subtle masculine scent of her husband.

She was wrapped in a warm blanket, her cheek pressed against a soft pillow suffused with his comforting smell. She lay alone in a narrow bed. His bed. He had brought her back to his and Anya’s room in third class, and tucked her in to sleep.

As she came fully awake, she narrowly avoided banging her head on the bunk above her when she tried to sit up.

“Careful there,” Loid said softly.

A small bedside light clicked on, and he rose from the low chair beside the desk, barely a meter away. The room was less than a quarter the size of Olka’s suite, with only enough space for one person to walk around freely. He was right beside her in one step, and crouched down to her face level.

“How are you feeling now?” he asked quietly. Over the low drone of the ship’s engines, she managed to make out Anya’s light snores in the bed above her head.

She brushed the hair out of her eyes—some of it had stuck to a patch of dried drool around her mouth, she realized with embarrassment—and smiled sheepishly at him.

“Much better. Sorry, I must have…” 

She looked around at their cramped surroundings, now fixated on the fact she had slept in his bed. A strange feeling of displacement hit her. This should have flustered her and caused her to throw off the blanket in self-conscious shock. But she didn’t move. There was no sense of alarm. She simply sat there and absorbed where she was, how natural and comfortable it all felt. She didn’t want to get out of bed.

“Oh…you must have had to carry me back,” she spoke in a whisper. “I’m so sorry!”

He shrugged good-naturedly, his hair tousled in that casual style she loved most. “It was no problem at all. I was glad to see you rest after how hard you must have worked the past two days. You must be thirsty.”

She gratefully drank the proffered cup of lukewarm tea, and went to the closet-sized bathroom to clean herself up. In the tiny mirror, she combed out the tangles in her hair and washed the dried sweat and sea spray off her face. Now, of all times, she began to feel self-conscious. She had no memory of the trip back onto the ship, but Loid had carried her the whole way. It was a considerable distance, maybe half a kilometer. For him to bear both her and Anya’s weight must have been difficult; she was heavier than she appeared, having trained half her life to build her body into a lethal machine.

Heat bloomed up her neck and into her cheeks as she imagined being that close to him, cradled in his arms, completely oblivious to the world. How had that looked to all the passengers and the undercover SSS agents around them? It must have taken around fifteen minutes at the least to reach the privacy of his room. How had Loid felt about all the attention he must have drawn in that time?

She calmed herself down by force of will. He had told her it wasn’t a problem. He didn’t look exhausted or bothered by it. He was waiting for her just outside the bathroom door, so they could talk. 

When she went back out there, just a few paces away, she would be alone with him again, and there would be no dodging his questions. She had been looking forward to their reunion throughout her entire assignment, had been distracted by thoughts of him, by what she would say, how much she should reveal about herself. How he might react. Whether their promises of trust in each other would hold.

It seemed there was one more battle she had to fight before she could retire. A kind of battle she had no experience with, except in this tentative reaching toward honesty she had shared a couple of times with Loid. She amended her conclusion. This wasn’t a battle. They weren’t trying to defeat each other, but the opposite. It was a dance.

Squaring her shoulders, she pressed her lips together and nodded at her reflection. Then she went out and rejoined her husband. He was standing now, and at his full height, his head almost brushed the ceiling. The sight made her smile in adoration. He offered her some snacks he’d packed for their trip ahead of time. Always prepared. 

“Please, sit,” he said, indicating the desk chair.

She shook her head and simply took a seat on the floor with her back against the side of the bed. She patted the spot next to her, and he obliged, settling cross-legged so his long legs wouldn’t bump against any furniture. A tiny thrill coursed through her as his knee brushed her hip. He quickly shifted aside, but she followed him so they were touching again. 

His eyes fell to that chaste point of contact between them before rising to her face. He reached his hand toward her cheek, but held back before he could establish yet another touchpoint, a more intimate one.

“Yor…can you tell me what happened?”

His hand was still hovering inches from her face, as if itching to inspect the wound for himself, to soothe away any pain. She didn’t feel pain there anymore, except when she touched it. Still, she subconsciously leaned forward, inviting his touch. 

His eyes flickered, and he brushed the tips of his fingers against her skin. There it was. That bruising, aching sting, reminding her of the hard-fought battle and the fact she had survived. She had survived by thinking of him, by looking forward to this very moment.

Something in her eyes must have given her away, because his voice grew low and urgent.

“Are you in danger? Did someone hurt you?”

She shook her head and brought her hand up to cover his, pressing it to her face. She didn’t care that it hurt.

“I’m not in danger anymore. Don’t worry.”

His eyes sharpened. “What do you mean ‘anymore?’ Yor, how did this happen? Did…did you run into someone dangerous on the ship?”

It was her turn to study him, the minute tells in his expression. He seemed to know something, to be afraid of something that he wasn’t telling her about yet. Even in the dim lighting, she could see the signs of fatigue on his face, the pallor of his skin, the dark circles under his eyes, the faint worry lines on his forehead. Anya alone wouldn’t have stressed him out this much. 

Was it possible he had run into one of the assassins on board? Or witnessed something suspicious, and remained on high alert since then? 

She couldn’t fault him for his paranoia, with the rate at which trouble seemed to find their family. Her heart ached once again as she wished she could have been there to protect him and Anya directly. 

“Loid, can you promise me something?” she said instead.

His gaze softened a bit. “I already did, when you asked me on the bench. But…then you fell asleep a few seconds later.”

“Oh,” she said sheepishly as she lowered both their hands to her lap, pressing his palm against her knee. The steady weight of it calmed her. “Well, what I was going to say was…I haven’t told you a lot of important things about myself. Back when…back when we first met, I thought you might have more questions…but…you didn’t ask. And I didn’t offer.”

This wasn’t exactly how she had planned to start, but she trusted that he’d follow the meandering path of her logic, here in this cramped space meant to hold only one person. She felt the weight of his single-minded attention just as acutely as his hand on her knee.

“I wasn’t entirely honest about the reason I wanted to marry you. It was to deflect suspicion for being single, yes…you saw how awkward I was at Camilla’s party, how people seemed to find me weird no matter what I said or did. I was scared that I’d get reported for that…but there was something else, too. Something else about me that…I’m afraid…if I told you…”

Her breathing began to accelerate against her will. She hadn’t accounted for her own body rebelling against the act of blowing her cover, of spilling the deadly secrets she had kept under lock and key her entire adult life.

“Hey,” Loid said, and patted her knee. His other hand came up to grasp her shoulder gently. “It’s alright. Breathe with me.”

Despite the soothing calm in his voice, his expression was pained. He was bracing himself for the truth, no doubt rifling through the possibilities in his quicksilver mind. Reviewing everything he knew about her, every interaction they’d had, every excuse she’d given him for her late nights at work and her injuries, measuring it all against his vast knowledge of the human psyche and his experience with troubled patients from all walks of life.

“I’ve promised you,” he said. “Whatever it is, I’ve already promised you.”

She nodded, fighting against the tight knot in her chest, the way her throat threatened to close and choke off her ability to speak. 

“I want to tell you. Everything,” she whispered. “But…I might not be able to, right now. Not yet. I’ve…I’ve been thinking about it for a while. And…I only just decided to leave it all behind. I don’t want to live that life anymore. I don’t want to hide from you anymore. It’s…”

Her hand trembled over his knuckles. She instinctively shrank into herself, trying to make herself a smaller target, but his grip on her shoulder remained solid, reassuring. He lowered his own shoulders, bent his head so that they remained at face level.

“It’s not fair to you,” she managed to continue, her voice beginning to rasp. “This…whatever this is that’s happening between us, this precious thing…it’s not fair to keep you in the dark. You deserve to know, so you can choose…I mean…that is, if you even…if you even feel the same way, and I’m not just dreaming it. This is coming out all wrong. I’m sorry. I mean that…I…”

She swallowed around the lump in her throat, looking him straight in the eyes even as tears filled her vision.

“Our family started as a cover for my ‘real’ life. But now…it’s all changed, turned inside out. You, and Anya, are more real to me than anything else. I want you, us, to be real, more than anything. But I know it’s not…it’s not just about what I want. Can you promise me you’ll…no matter what you might think of me, if I’m completely wrong and you don’t feel anything, or you change your mind…can we at least still be friends? Can you…can you still let me see Anya?”

“Yor,” Loid finally spoke, and slowly, with utmost care, tugged her toward him. She relented, and all but collapsed into his embrace, her entire frame shaking against his chest. His deep voice vibrated against her uninjured cheek. “I promise. More than that. Oh, Yor. You don’t know the half of it, what I think of you. You don’t have to worry. Whatever it is, whatever danger you’ve been in, I will help you out of it. I’m here with you.”

She breathed in and out, immersed in temporary relief as well as the fear that this was only the beginning. He didn’t know the full truth, she’d overreached in making him promise ahead of time, he didn’t know how far down her secrets went, how much blood she’d spilled over the course of the last thirteen years. How much danger she would put him in by disclosing her identity to him. Even if she didn’t tell him exactly who she was, only her profession, she would add a crushing burden to his shoulders.

“Loid…when…when I thought I might not make it,” she began, and immediately felt him stiffen, more unspoken questions filling the scant space between them, “I remembered something you said, when we first met. After Camilla tried to shame me, you…you didn’t judge me or turn me away. You said you admired me, for taking on a harsh job for the sake of someone else, for fighting for something greater than myself. You have no idea how much I’ve hung onto those words all this time, and how much hope they’ve given me.”

He tentatively stroked her hair, holding her tenderly against his shoulder. “I meant it then, and I still mean it now. But Yor…you…you must have been in very grave danger the past two days. I’d be lying if I said that didn’t concern me. That it doesn’t make me want to demand all the details, just so I can know that you’re truly safe. The person who did this to you…are they still on this ship?”

She could hear the words he wasn’t saying, clear as day. She took a breath, prepared herself. And took the next plunge.

“No. They’re not.”

He remained silent for a while, absorbing the implications. “Then…”

“The real reason I’m on this cruise…is for a job that no one can know about. Someone hired me to protect them. A young family, almost like ours. For the past two days, I’ve been protecting them, until they were able to escape safely to where they needed to go.”

“Protecting,” Loid echoed, as if testing out the word and everything hidden underneath it. “You were acting as a bodyguard. Alone? Against how many hitmen?”

It shouldn’t have surprised her how fast Loid’s mind worked. She shook her head. “The job’s done. The family’s safe. And I intend to make this my last job. I can’t tell you any more details right now. But…I will tell you one thing, because you deserve to know. My hands aren’t clean, Loid. I’ve…in order to do my job, I’ve…” 

Why was it so hard to speak the word aloud, when she had lived out the bloody truth of it for more than a decade? Honed her instincts to the point where she no longer blinked an eye at death?

“I understand,” Loid said quietly, with a sort of finality that made her pause. His thoughts, though still invisible to her, felt incredibly loud in the silence. Then, “My hands aren’t clean, either.”

She stilled in his arms, and slowly pulled back to look at him. His face had gone carefully blank, as if he had drawn up a shield against her reaction.

“There are a lot of things you don’t know about me, either,” he confessed, barely audible. “But with everything that’s happened, the things you’ve been brave enough to tell me…I think you deserve to know, too. That I had my own reasons for entering our agreement. Reasons I can’t explain to you right now. But…I’m thinking about how to try. I won’t make any more promises, or ask you to–”

“Loid,” she said in a hush, cupping his cheek in her palm. “No matter what, I trust you. I want to be with you. I…I want to try again.”

She held her breath, her heart thumping too loudly in the thick silence as his mask slipped, the vulnerability returning to his eyes. Vulnerability and an electrifying new connection, a subtle thread that perhaps had always been there but had gone unnoticed, strings of coded writing on the wall that signaled they were more alike than she had ever imagined. With both their secrets so close to the surface, the distance between them closed rapidly as well, drawing her in like an irresistible force, until there was no dividing line, no cause for hesitation or regret anymore. 

“Can we?” she whispered.

He scanned her face, her bruised cheek, her lips. Warring with himself. His throat bobbed with words he couldn’t say. She pushed down the fear that she had misread him after all, that she was stepping too far and ruining everything. She simply waited, keeping that last sacred inch of space between them.

“I don’t know if I can give you what you want. What you deserve,” he said at last, and she realized these were not new thoughts to him. It was just the first time he had brought them into the light. The first time he had exposed any of his deepest secrets to her. 

“But what about you?” she countered. “What do you want?”

It suddenly occurred to her just how much he had done for her all this time they had known each other. How he’d always put her needs first, kept his distance, never given away a hint of what it was he wanted so as not to pressure her. She could hardly believe that after all her struggles with insecurity and the fear of not being good enough, he somehow felt he wasn’t good enough, that such a thing could have been the cause for his reservation.

“This is supposed to be about both of us,” she said when he didn’t respond. “Loid…don’t diminish yourself for my sake anymore. I don’t want us to hide from each other anymore. Okay?”

His expression held a strange mix of yearning and sadness and self-defeat, but there was hope, too. “I’ll try. For you, Yor, I’ll try.”

“That’s the best anyone can do,” she said, and moved her thumb from his cheek to the corner of his mouth. His lips parted slightly under her touch, his breath tickling her fingertips. “I…I want to kiss you again. Will you…?”

In the dim light, his smile, his eyes, were more beautiful than they had any right to be. He leaned in the rest of the way, and she closed her eyes to the feel of his soft lips brushing against hers, slow and tender, as if testing whether she might regret it. Then more, stronger, heated, when she didn’t pull back but pushed into him, her hand on his cheek sliding into his tousled hair. His mouth slanted against hers, breath hitching, his arm tightening around her waist possessively, as the words he couldn’t say transformed into pure touch. A haze of new, heady sensations flooded her veins, as if she had been hit with the most powerful of toxins.

When they finally parted and she beheld the answering wonder in Loid’s face, her world shifted, expanded like a breath of fresh air, a newly discovered piece of reality sinking into her heart as if there had long been a place prepared for it. This, not the one before, had been her first true kiss, full of intent and assurance, more than enough to chase away the shadows of the old. 

“I’m so glad I married you,” she said again, and leaned in once more, sealing their promises with a second kiss. A soft, fleeting brush this time, light but sure, as delicate as the metal of a grenade pin.