Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The halls of the mansion are quiet and still. It’s a calm, foreboding silence, as if the walls are holding their breath, knowing what will happen tonight. The quiet is only broken by the click of heels on the floor. 

She walks languidly. Not too slow, but not in a rush, either. She knows she will reach her target one way or another. It’s only a matter of time. The Thorn Princess never fails.

Another day, another traitor to be purged. Another late night that could have been spent with her family. Lately, Yor has found herself finishing her jobs as quickly as possible. Her work—both her day and night job—is fulfilling, but her time with Loid and Anya is even more so. Yor has never been a demanding person, able to make do with very little and still be happy, but her family is one thing she requires in her life. Everything else is null. She imagines Anya’s excited hug and Loid’s gentle smile when she arrives home, and she picks up the pace. Yor can’t arrive home too late, after all. That would be suspicious for a mere civil servant.

Just like that, she’s outside the bedroom. Yor lifts a leg and kicks the door down. She’s not in the mood for stealth today.

They were expecting her. Her client is standing toward the back of the room, flanked by bodyguards on either side. She wonders how they knew.

“Thorn Princess.”

Over the course of her career, Yor has witnessed all sorts of emotions from her clients in their dying moments. Fear, anger, resignation. In one or two odd cases, even awe from the ones who were gone long before she put a blade through their hearts.

The emotion she sees this time around is new. It’s… smug. As if he has Yor right where he wants her. Like he is not about to die at her hand.

It’s unsettling. She doesn’t know what advantage he thinks he has, but she hopes it’s not a real one. No matter the case, Yor is quick to push her misgivings aside. Doubt has no place in her mind when she is Thorn Princess. An assassin cannot afford to doubt herself before the kill.

Yor raises a golden stiletto. Her intentions are plain as the moon on this cloudless evening. They all know why she is here tonight.

“Excuse me.” Her voice rings out slow and steady. Almost lazily, the way her words roll off her tongue. “I heard that a traitorous scumbag lives here.” She counts eight bodyguards in total. A pity—he knew Yor was coming, but he only prepared this much backup. “Is that you?”

“You don’t want to make another move, Thorn Princess,” her client says. How laughable. He thinks he’s in control here.

Yor takes a small step forward, poised like a viper to strike. She continues like she never heard him speak. Scum like him doesn’t deserve a response. “In that case… May I have the honor of taking your life?” 

His fear is poorly concealed. Yor can see the cold sweat beading on his forehead and the tremor of his figure. He impresses her when he only takes a step back reflexively. The bodyguards tense when her eyes rove over them analytically, wondering which one she should kill first.

“I said you don’t want to make another move, Thorn Princess,” he repeats. “Or should I say Yor Forger?”

It takes Yor a heartbeat to realize what he just said. She’s just decided to start with the one on the far right when her mind makes sense of his words. She immediately lowers her weapons. His confidence earlier suddenly makes sense.

“How do you know that name?” she demands. Yor has mentally prepared herself for all sorts of scenarios when she’s on the job. Enemy assassins as skilled as her, or traps set to eliminate her before she even reaches her client. Shockingly, though, Yor has never anticipated anyone figuring out her identity. She becomes aware of this as she frantically tries to remember what she should do in a situation like this.

He doesn’t offer an answer. Instead, he smirks. Because, Yor realizes, he has wrested control of the situation out of her hands with a single sentence. 

“128 Park Avenue,” he says simply. 

Yor feels the breath escape her body. The room suddenly feels too small and suffocating.

“A home of three, the lovely Forger family. The father, a well-respected psychiatrist, Loid Forger. The daughter, Anya Forger, a bright young girl attending Eden Academy.” He smiles. “And of course, the mother, Yor Forger. By day, a civil servant. But what her husband and daughter don’t know is that by night, she is Ostania’s deadliest assassin. Thorn Princess.”

He has Yor’s complete attention now, and he knows it. She glares at him venomously. “If you even touch them—” she snarls, taking a threatening step forward. Yor can barely restrain her fury. But she needs to know what he plans to do with his knowledge before she paints the walls with his blood.

He continues. His smile only becomes wider as he speaks. “I believe some men of mine should have already paid your lovely family a visit.”

Yor knows that her principles are quite… skewed, to say the least. It’s to be expected. She is an assassin, after all. She doubts her mind is fully intact anymore. Not after all these years of bloodshed.

But there is one thing Yor is dead certain of. Target her, and that is fine with her. Yor is an assassin. If, one day, she finds herself looking down the edge of a blade, if she feels the muzzle of a gun pressed to her skull while carrying out her profession, that is to be expected. One day, she knows she will get what is coming for her. 

But her family. Loid and Anya. They are innocent and pure. They are all that is good in this world. Loid, with his warm demeanor and soft smiles and the gentle lilt of his voice. And Anya, all bubbling enthusiasm and wide eyes of innocence and her heart of gold that uplifts everyone around her. 

Loid and Anya are off limits. And if anyone dares lay a finger on them, Yor will destroy them.

She barely restrains a growl as she charges forward, but the bodyguards stand in her way. They point their weapons at her as if it could actually make a difference. 

“Return to your home peacefully, and they won’t be hurt. You will find a note telling you where you can find your precious family.” He looks all too proud of himself. He still thinks he will actually walk away from this alive. 

Yor will enjoy this.

“Now, are you willing to cooperate—”

She’s on top of the first bodyguard in an instant. Yor doesn’t waste time on his hired help, too eager to get her hands on the client himself. Her vision is a haze of red as she runs the bodyguard through with a stiletto and yanks the blade out of their chest. She ducks right before gunfire pierces the air and kicks the shooter in the ribs. A satisfying crack of a ribcage rings through the air as they go flying back. Their head hits the wall with a thud, and they slump to the floor. They don’t stand again.

Yor flicks a stiletto through the air at another bodyguard who reaches for their gun. It impales their throat. She’s down a stiletto now, but it hardly matters. They’re all dead anyway. Lunging for her next target, she slits their throat cleanly with her other blade. Picking up a nearby table, Yor turns it on its side to shield herself from incoming bullets and then throws. It crushes the duo firing at her from across the room, and they go down immediately. Blood paints the surface of the previously pristine table a vivid crimson.

There are only two bodyguards left. They stumble back, hovering protectively in front of their boss. Their grips on their guns are shaky, having witnessed Yor take out six of their colleagues in a matter of seconds. They know they are next.

She strikes quickly and cleanly. They let out strangled gasps even as blood pours out of their throats. Their bodies hit the ground with two resounding thuds. 

It’s just their boss now. The scumbag who dared threaten her loved ones. Yor strides forward, covered in blood that isn't hers. Her actions are guided by a haze of bloodlust, but it hardly matters that she’s lost her focus. She is seething, and she lets that fury propel her forward, riding on pure killing intent. 

“W-wait! If you kill me, then my men will kill your family! You don’t—” His pathetic pleas are cut short when she stabs her stiletto through his shoulder. It goes out the other side and impales itself in the wall, pinning him in place. Yor turns to retrieve her other stiletto while he screams in agony.

She turns back to him. He watches her approach, terror written all over his face. His eyes are dulled from pain and blood loss, but he is undoubtedly aware of everything that is happening.

Good. Yor wants him to feel every painful moment of his demise.

Twirling the stiletto and wondering where to stab him next, Yor speaks. Her voice shakes with the anger sizzling beneath. She makes no attempt to hide it. “You dare threaten my family,” she hisses. “You thought you would get away with laying your grimy hands on them. If I find out a single hair on my husband or my daughter has been harmed, I will find everyone you care about and kill them all slowly and painfully. I’ll make sure to give them deaths far worse than the one you will have at my hands. And I will enjoy every minute.”

Yor has picked her next target by now. The chest. Not the throat or heart because that would be too quick a death, but she really does need to be on her way. As much as she wants to stay and make this lowlife suffer, Loid and Anya are infinitely more important than her desire for revenge. Yor needs to make sure they are safe.

She stabs him. He cries out weakly, lacking the strength to do much more than whimper and sob. Yanking out the stiletto, Yor decides to leave the one in his shoulder where it is. He will stay there, pinned against the wall, until he bleeds out or passes out from the pain and bleeds out anyway. She does hope he’ll stay conscious the whole time. And she has spare stilettos strapped to her thigh anyway.

The room reeks of blood. It’s splattered everywhere, painting the walls and soaking the luxurious wine-colored carpet a deep scarlet. It stains Yor’s skin, and she knows it will be a pain to wash off later. But she has no time to clean up right now. Loid and Anya’s safety is at stake. There could never be anything more important than them.

It’s deathly silent, as if the walls have released the breath they were holding. Thorn Princess has eliminated her client, but the job is far from over for her. The pale moon hangs low in the sky outside the window. The sole witness to her deeds, and her one consistent companion. 

The only sound that penetrates the quiet is the click of her heels against the floor.

Chapter Text

Moonlight creeps in through the window, washing the room in a pale glow and painting Anya’s pink hair with a light sheen. The pearl-white moon peeks in from a gap in the curtains. An owl hoots in the distance.

A small hand grasps the hem of Loid’s shirt. “D’you think Mama will be home soon?” Anya mumbles sleepily.

Loid brushes her bangs back gently. “Of course. Work is just giving her a hard time today, is all. She’ll be here when you wake up tomorrow.”

Anya nods slowly and shuts her eyes. “Good night, Papa.”

He smiles and plants a kiss on her temple. “Sweet dreams, Anya.” 

After her breathing slows and evens out, Loid stands up quietly and steps into the hallway, shutting the door behind him with a soft click. He doesn’t want to go to bed until Yor arrives home, but for once he has no work keep him occupied. Contemplating for a moment, Loid remembers a basket of laundry he set aside earlier. 

Humming to himself, Loid picks up the basket and goes downstairs to the communal laundry room. On his way down, he passes a small group on their way up the stairs.

“Hello,” he says, smiling politely. Loid doesn’t recognize them.

“Hi!” the one in the front says. He has quite the memorable appearance, with fiery red hair and green eyes. “Are you a resident here? A friend invited us over, but we’re also checking the place out to see if we want to rent an apartment here,” he explains, suave and friendly.

“I do live here,” Loid replies. “I may be a little biased, but the apartments here are lovely. The cost of rent is affordable, too.”

The redhead laughs and extends a hand to shake. “That’s good to hear! I’m Theo, and this is Lina and Anton. You are…?”

Loid shakes Theo’s hand. His grip is firm and strong. “Loid. Loid Forger.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Loid!” He glances at the basket of laundry Loid is still carrying. “Anyway, I’m sure you’re busy, so we’ll be on our way now. Maybe I’ll see you around.”

Loid nods and continues on his way downstairs, feeling the prickle of a gaze on his back just before he turns the corner. He catches a glimpse of the woman, Lina, looking back at him in his peripheral vision. 

Loading the laundry into the washing machine, Loid can’t shake an eerie sense that something is wrong. Anya is asleep, and he did lock the door, but he still feels uneasy about leaving her alone in the apartment. He wonders why his nerves are running so high tonight. Is it the newcomers? Theo and Anton seem innocent enough, but there was something about the way Lina was watching him that tipped him off. He knows that look in her eyes—she was sizing him up.

Loid knows better than to ignore his intuition. It’s saved him during more missions than he can count. He quickly finishes up the laundry, skipping a conversation about cooking recipes that he would usually have with one of the neighbors, and runs back up.

The door is closed, but there are scuff marks around the keyhole. The lock has clearly been tampered with. Loid immediately raises his guard, not that he ever truly lets it down. Playing the part of the unsuspecting victim, he opens the door slowly and steps inside like he doesn’t notice a thing. He immediately detects the presence of someone behind him. It’s reminiscent of the time Anya was kidnapped shortly after Loid adopted her. 

They move to strike him on the back of his head and knock him out quickly. Loid pivots on his heel and side steps before the blow can connect. Just as he’s about to retaliate, the back of his neck prickles and he hears pounding footsteps. He jumps back before the razor edge of a knife buries itself in his back. With some distance between him and his aggressors, Loid recognizes Lina and Anton.

He lets the distaste show on his face. So he was right to be cautious. Still, he can’t help but scold himself for not realizing sooner. He has grown sloppy as of late.

“PAPA!” 

Loid tenses. It’s Anya calling out to him with a muffled shriek. He’s never witnessed such terror from her before.

An all too familiar emotion boils his blood when he hears the fear in her voice. Suddenly, Loid recalls the Eden interview, the unbridled fury he felt when he saw Anya in tears. But it’s not a very good comparison. He’s far angrier now than he was back then, for one.

And, of course, he has neither reason nor desire to show restraint this time around. 

So he doesn’t.

Anton is the one with the knife. Twilight targets him first. The scum doesn’t even have time to react before Twilight has broken his knife arm and knocked the blade out of his grip. He’s unable to do anything but cry out in pain as Twilight decks him in the face repeatedly. Winded and dazed, Anton doesn’t fight back when Twilight grabs him by the collar and bashes his head against the table, white hot rage pounding in his veins. It’s by no means the most efficient way to handle this, but Twilight isn’t aiming for efficiency.

He's aiming for blood.

He hears Lina’s footsteps as she charges him, Anton’s knife in her hands. Twilight releases Anton, who slumps to the carpet bleeding from his head, and is about to fend off Lina when gunfire pierces the room.

[0.1s]

His leg is suddenly on fire. Twilight stumbles back slightly in shock. His mind registers that he’s been shot in the leg.

[0.3s]

He can’t assess the damage right now. Lina is an immediate threat, clutching her knife while she closes the distance rapidly. 

[0.4s]

Years of combat experience allow him to work past the pain. He grabs Lina’s knife arm and stops her from impaling him with his sheer strength. 

[0.6s]

Twilight twists her arm painfully and forces her to drop the knife, catching it with his other hand. 

[1.0s]

Still holding her wrist in an iron grip, he yanks Lina forward and positions her in front of him with the threat of a knife to keep her still. Any subsequent gunfire will hit Lina instead of him.

Twilight scans the living room for the source of gunfire. Adrenaline keeps his senses sharp, but there’s some sluggishness tugging at his mind. He does his best to ignore the fiery feeling in his leg, pushing it aside with a grimace. He can feel warm, sticky blood flowing down his leg and forming a puddle on the wooden floor.

It’s Theo. He’s gripping Anya by the hair with one hand and pressing a gun against her skull with the other. The triumphant smile on his face and the terror on Anya’s sends another rush of bloodlust through Twilight, but he holds himself back. He’s in no position to attack, not with his injured leg and the precarious situation his daughter is in.

“How fascinating,” Theo sing-songs. “According to our information, Loid Forger is nothing more than a hardworking psychiatrist. Yet you almost fought all three of us off, and we’re some of the best hitmen out there. Care to explain?” 

Twilight narrows his eyes and considers his options. He has excellent aim. He could throw the knife. His mind is already calculating the trajectory of the weapon, the force he would need to pierce Theo’s heart. “I’m a former soldier,” he offers up. It’s his usual excuse when he’s asked questions like this. Believable, too.

Twilight knows where he’s going to aim. Anya shifts slightly in Theo’s grip, trying to move away. It’s almost as if she’s trying to make room for Twilight to hurl his knife. 

It doesn’t work. Immediately, Theo yanks her by the hair so she’s even closer than before. Twilight lets out a small growl when he hears Anya’s pained cry. Whatever happens tonight, he is going to make sure Theo dies by his hand. Slowly and agonizingly.

“I’m not sure I fully believe that. Your skills are still too impressive. But I guess it’s to be expected from the husband of Thorn Princess. Maybe you did know the whole time.”

Twilight frowns. “What?” The entire time, he assumed they are here for him. 

“Huh? So you didn’t know. Well, Mr. Forger, your wife happens to be the most dangerous assassin in Ostania. Congratulations.” Theo’s cheery smile drops, replaced by the stone cold focus of the mercenary beneath. “Now, release Lina and hand her the knife, or I will shoot your cute little daughter.”

Twilight tenses. Hesitates for a moment. He could still try with his knife. Lina remains completely still in his grip, shaking in fear for her life. 

Theo raises an eyebrow. “I’m not bluffing. Sure, our orders were to take you two alive, but there are plenty of nonlethal places I can shoot too.”

"You aren't scared for your colleague's life?" Twilight questions. "I could easily kill her right now." He presses the knife against Lina's skin. She lets out a strangled sob.

Theo shrugs apathetically. "Go ahead. I don't really care. I only met her earlier today, actually."

It’s obvious this group is far from the average gang of thugs. They are professional hitmen. Theo displayed sharp reflexes earlier when Anya tried to move away from him. There’s a good chance he will react in time to pull the trigger if Twilight tries to attack him.

Twilight closes his eyes. 

“Papa,” Anya whimpers. His heart breaks just a little.

It’s a battle to see who will cave first. If it were a WISE agent in Theo’s grasp, Twilight would win it.

But it’s not. It’s Anya. His daughter.

Loid opens his eyes. Anya is watching him with teary eyes, shaking in terror. She is so, so brave. And he loves her so much.

Loid lets go of Lina. Hands her the knife. Raises his hands in surrender.

It’s the first and last time he will ever willingly hand himself over to an enemy.

He could never bring himself to gamble with Anya’s life. 

Chapter Text

The moon hangs high in the sky by the time Yor arrives home. She runs up the stairs frantically, uncaring if anyone sees her covered in blood. It could cause problems for her in the future, but she can’t be bothered right now. Her heart is pounding uncontrollably in her chest. Never in her entire life has Yor felt this anxious, this out of control. 

The door is ajar. The sharp tang of blood attacks her sensitive nose. Clammy hands make it difficult for Yor to grab her stilettos, but she clenches them in a death grip in case of an ambush. 

It’s quiet and still, but not in the way she is used to. It’s not the soft serenity of a late night returning home, Anya and Loid already fast asleep. It’s not the domesticity of Loid tucking Anya into bed while she brews warm tea for them. Loid doesn’t peek his head from the corridor to welcome her home as he usually does. 

It’s quiet and still, but in a way that fills her with dread. Eerie and lifeless. Abandoned. Like some unspeakable thing happened here that cannot be spoken of. But the hushed silence tells it all.

No one is here. No enemies. No ambush.

No Loid or Anya.

Yor takes a few steps forward. The furniture, normally arranged so neatly and precisely—because Loid is a man of order and organization—is knocked over or shoved out of place. It’s a clear sign of a struggle. Because, of course, Loid is brave. Sweet, kind Loid, who must have been so confused about the sudden attack but would never let anyone harm their daughter. He must have fought back to the best of his ability.

There’s a puddle of blood on the wooden floor. Yor approaches it slowly and stares at it while her mind is in a faraway place. A dark emotion wraps its tendrils around her, settling over her and possessing her with grim intentions. Murderous, terrible thoughts. Plans of what she will do to the scum who attacked her family.

Sparing a glance into Anya’s bedroom, Yor sees Anya’s stuffed toy lying on the ground. It plays out in her head: Mr. Chimera, tossed aside haphazardly as some bastards grab her little girl and drag her away. Loid, desperately fighting back, defeated and beaten down. The will to fight probably left him the moment he saw Anya in their hands. At least, she hopes that’s what happened. Resistance would only be met with more bloodshed, and Yor desperately prays that Loid and Anya are unharmed.

The blood on the floor begs to differ.

She shuts her eyes. A burning sensation sears her eyelids, and with a start, Yor realizes she is crying. 

It’s all her fault. Yor never should have married Loid. He’s such a good man. He was living a happy life as a faithful, hardworking citizen. But she crashed into his life and dragged him down with her. Yor, who is a killer. Yor, who has done unforgivable things. Even now, she will occasionally find herself waking in the middle of the night and rushing to the bathroom to scrub her hands raw—to erase the bloodstains all over her fingers, caked under her nails, because no matter what it won’t go away.

Yor wipes her tears away. If she thinks about it too much, she will unravel, and every moment she spends pitying herself is a moment she could have spent saving her family. 

She takes a deep breath. She’ll be completely honest with Loid after tonight. If he chooses to leave her, then it is a fitting punishment. She wouldn’t be able to forgive herself for endangering his family either.

Yor spots a note on Anya’s dresser—the note her client mentioned before she ended his worthless life. An address is scribbled on it.

Loid and Anya are out there, waiting for her. She doesn’t linger.

“Are you okay, Papa?” Anya asks quietly.

They’re forced to walk at gunpoint, Theo in front with Lina and some additional backup behind them—Theo had more colleagues waiting in a car parked outside the apartment complex. After shoving Loid and Anya inside (and an unconscious and heavily injured Anton) and driving them a long distance away, they’ve finally arrived at an abandoned building on the outskirts of Berlint. 

The pace is quick, one that has Anya breathing hard in an effort to keep up with them. The threat of a gun keeps her from complaining, and she has mostly been quiet the whole time. Loid can’t help but secretly feel glad for that because he’s in complete agony right now, forced to walk with his injured leg at their brisk speed. It’s so excruciating that he has little capacity for conversation.

But Loid can’t let Anya know that. He needs to keep up a strong front for her sake. The poor girl must be terrified right now. She should never have been in this situation in the first place.

He musters a smile. It’s only a sliver of his typical Loid Forger facade; he’s too dazed from the pain to manage much more. Not to mention all the blood he’s lost. Fortunately, the bullet missed his major blood vessels, or he would have bled out by now. But he hopes his smile, no matter how weak, reassures her. “I’m fine, Anya. Don’t worry about me.”

“Why’d you have to shoot him in the leg anyway, Theo?” someone behind Loid complains. “We can’t walk as fast because he’s holding us up.”

“If it’s such a problem, why don’t you carry him then?” Theo retorts from the front. “Don’t underestimate our friend here. He’s a skilled fighter. Even with his leg wound, he poses a significant threat. The only thing that’s keeping him behaved is his fear for his daughter.”

Loid takes careful note of the halls and rooms they pass, already memorizing the layout of the building and planning an escape route. They pass guards stationed everywhere, and Loid can’t help but wonder who organized all of this. Whoever they are, they have plenty of money at their disposal and they decided it was worth spending it on all of this.

The name Theo mentioned—Thorn Princess. Loid distantly recognizes the name, but he doesn’t know from where. He combs through his memory and remembers Theo calling her the most dangerous assassin in Ostania. Loid will have to ask Yor for more details once he gets himself and Anya out of this place.

From here, it’s not difficult to figure out why Theo’s group went after him and Anya. The wrong people must have found out Yor’s secret and thought it would be easier to go after her family than the Thorn Princess herself.

Loid isn’t sure how to feel about this. On one hand, he’s relieved that he hasn’t been compromised. But on the other hand, his gentle and kind wife managed to fool him, Twilight, for this long. She was right under his nose and he had no clue she was an assassin.

Someone shoves Loid forward. They’ve reached a room with a chair and more guards inside. He assumes this is where they intend to hold one of them. But what about the other?

“Papa!” Anya cries. The group separates in two. Lina is leading Anya away while Theo stays with Loid. 

Anya tries to rush forward, but Lina grabs her arm roughly and wrenches her back. “Don’t take Papa away!” Anya sobs, tears welling in her eyes. “Papa! Please don’t leave Anya!” 

Her desperation sends a pang through Loid’s heart. “Please,” he finds himself begging. He’s shocked by the way his voice wobbles, the raw fear that curls in his chest. “Please don’t separate us. Let us stay together. I won’t try anything, just please don’t take Anya away from me.”

Theo is unmoved. “That’s the whole point.” The bastard keeps his voice deceptively calm, but his face betrays the sick enjoyment he takes in their plight. “You wouldn’t dare try anything if you didn’t know what was happening to your daughter, would you?”

“Papa!” Anya cries one last time. 

Lina glares. “Shut up!” The sound of a slap rings through the air, and suddenly there’s a mark on Anya’s cheek. His daughter lets out a small sob. 

Loid sees red. He doesn’t care about his leg injury or the people restraining him or the gun digging into his spine. They can barely hold him back, wrenching his arms behind his back at a painful angle even as he’s growling and baring his teeth at the bitch. “I’m going to kill you,” Loid snarls. “I’m going to fucking kill you if it’s the last thing I do—”

Theo grabs him by the hair and yanks his head back. The safety clicks off of his gun. The muzzle presses unrelentingly against his throat, cutting off Loid’s air flow.

“Last chance, Forger,” Theo says quietly. “Make one more move and I’ll decide that it’s not worth the effort to keep you alive. And you wouldn’t want me blasting your brains out in front of your poor little daughter, would you?”

He releases Loid, stepping back and switching the safety back on. Loid gasps for breath and glares venomously at his captors, but he doesn’t struggle any longer.

Theo smiles. “I’m glad we could come to an understanding.” He waves a hand dismissively at Lina. “Go on, take the girl away.”

Lina is pale. Loid hides a smirk of satisfaction. If nothing else, he scared the hell out of her. 

Anya is still in tears, but she goes with Lina without a fuss. Loid watches them walk away and calls out one last time on impulse.

“Anya, I love you.” It’s far too quiet. His voice is hoarse from Theo’s assault earlier.

But the way she glances back and manages a small, tear-stained smile gives him hope she heard him.

Gravel crunches beneath her heels as Yor approaches the building, inspecting it from the outside. It’s abandoned and rundown, but it’s definitely the address from the note.

She brandishes her stilettos and goes over her plan. This will have to be a stealth mission. Yor doesn’t want them to realize she’s here until it’s too late and she can free Loid and Anya. If they are alerted of her presence, they will most certainly try to use Loid and Anya as leverage against her.

Yor briefly considers informing them that their employer is dead. They won’t be eager to get in an unnecessary fight with her if their reward money is gone. She ultimately dismisses the idea. Frankly, Yor does not care whether they are simply being paid for a job like her. They went after her family, and that means they will all die.

She melts into the shadows and begins the hunt. 

Loid sits in his chair, head hanging forward in defeat. His arms are tied behind his back. The rope digs into his wrists, sure to leave marks. With the way he’s slumped over, completely limp, he’s the image of hopelessness and despair. A downtrodden father who has lost his desire to fight.

It’s what Twilight wants them to see.

In the hour or so he has been sitting here, Twilight has carefully observed the guards in the room. The pattern of their breathing, their idle tics, their dominant hands—it’s all committed to memory. All he needs to do is wait.

Twilight is confident Yor will arrive soon—he heard them discussing it, his trained spy’s ears picking up on even the quietest of words, and his eyes watching their lips to fill in any gaps. The only reason he hasn’t tried anything yet is that they’re keeping Anya in another room. If he causes a commotion, he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to get to Anya in time before they think of trying something clever with his daughter—and like he vowed earlier, he refuses to take any risks with Anya’s life.  

Yor is Thorn Princess. She’s clearly not the woman Twilight thought he knew. But he would like to think that there were some things genuine about her time with the Forger family. Specifically, her fierce love for her family. She may not care much for him, but at the very least, Twilight knows how much she loves Anya. 

That’s why he knows Yor will come. And when she does, she will rain down destruction and hellfire if the small glimpses he’s had at her strength are any indication of her fighting ability. 

That’s when he will strike, when they are drowning in chaos and regret, too distracted being ripped apart by Yor to spare a single glance at their captive. For all that Theo thinks he has Loid Forger figured out, he still doesn’t realize how much he’s underestimated him. He thinks that, despite his combat ability, Loid Forger is still an ordinary civilian in the end. 

The knot they’ve tied his wrists in is standard. Inescapable for a normal person, but not for a spy. Twilight has dealt with it many times. Played the victim of it even more times. 

Escaping from his predicament will be child’s play. He just has to bide his time.

Clamping a hand over her prey’s mouth, they only get the chance to let out a muffled gasp as a stiletto passes cleanly through their heart. Yor quietly lowers the body to the ground.

If she had to estimate, Yor would say she’s killed around ten of them so far. The place is crawling with them. It’s surprising how many people her client hired, but she supposes he didn’t want to underestimate her. The reason for his lack of bodyguards back at the mansion is abundantly clear now. Unfortunately for him, he hinged everything on the foolish assumption that the first part of his plan would succeed.

Yor hasn’t raised any alarms yet, but she’s starting to doubt that will be the case for much longer. There are so many guards patrolling the place that one of them is bound to discover a body and raise the alarm. She’ll have to make this quick and rescue Loid and Anya before that happens.

She hears panicked shouting around the corner and heaves a sigh of disappointment. Of course Yor has already been discovered. 

Sprinting at top speed, Yor turns the corner and charges them like a war horse. With any luck, she can silence this group before anyone hears their yelling.

One of them screams in terror just before Yor shatters their skull with a kick. She clicks her tongue in annoyance, whipping around and finishing off another with a slash to the neck. 

The last two stumble back and point their guns at her with trembling fingers. Yor ducks just as they pull the triggers, bullets soaring over her head and flying into the wall behind her. 

A curse slips out of her mouth. If the screaming didn’t alert the other guards, the gunshots definitely did. Yor makes it quick and stabs each of them. 

The pressure is on now more than ever to find Loid and Anya. Yor can’t waste any more time now that they know she’s here. 

A fresh batch of enemies turn the corner. Yor braces herself for another round. She’ll cut as many of them down as she needs to. 

They raise their guns and take aim.

She readies her stilettos and charges.

The guards are shifting uncomfortably. They glance at each other uneasily, unsure if they should remain in their posts. The door slams open. Theo storms into the room. There are no traces of the self-assured control from before on his face. Instead, he looks furious. 

The gunfire and screaming from somewhere in the building is a pretty good indication why.

“She’s tearing through our men like paper,” Theo hisses. He runs a hand through his hair in frustration before remembering everyone can see how anxious he is. “Stay here and stand guard. Lina’s bringing the daughter over. We’re going to let Thorn Princess come to us,” Theo orders.

The guards nod in fright. They don’t seem confident that this plan will work out, for good reason. Every time a scream punctures the air, it’s closer than before. The panic in the air is so tangible that Loid can practically taste it. It’s glorious.

“And you,” Theo growls. He stalks up to Loid, who is still slumped over in his chair, head down and bangs shadowing his face. “Don’t you dare get any clever ideas. Remember, your daughter’s life is in my hands.”

He can’t help it. Loid lifts his head and smiles.

“The hell are you smiling at?” Theo is so thoroughly pissed off, Loid wishes he could revel in it a little longer.

But alas, Twilight has a job to do. People to kill. A wife to meet. And, most importantly, a daughter to rescue.

He shoots out of his seat, striking as quick and sudden as a snake. Theo isn’t prepared for the fist that breaks his nose on impact, nearly knocking him unconscious. Twilight takes advantage of Theo’s momentary daze and snags the gun at his waist, opening fire instantly at the other guards. Clearly, none of them were prepared for this eventuality—they’re all dead before they can even think to reach for their weapons.

That leaves Theo. Twilight has something special planned for him. It won’t be as elaborate as he hoped, unfortunately. He does need to find Anya.

Theo watches him with wide, wary eyes. He’s clutching his broken nose with one hand, blood gushing all over his face, and his other hand is raised in a protective gesture. But his panicked expression is quick to twist into rage—he has a better reaction time than his subordinates did. He springs into action and throws a left hook at Twilight. 

Unfortunately for Theo, he’s good, but not that good. The only advantage that allowed him to get this far—Anya—is no longer at his disposal. Twilight easily dodges the blow and raises his gun.

“W-wait,” Theo stammers out, realizing what’s about to happen. “We can negotiate. We can—”

He’s interrupted by his own scream. A bullet lodges itself in his leg. Exactly where he shot Twilight—his own leg is still throbbing painfully.

“Please don’t kill me,” Theo sobs. The change in attitude is so sudden, Twilight swears he’s going to get whiplash. God, he’s so pathetic, it makes Twilight feel embarrassed that he was ever at this lowlife’s mercy. Of course, he could have easily killed Theo back at the apartment if the bastard hadn’t threatened Anya’s life.

“And why shouldn’t I?” Twilight drawls. It goes against his training as a spy to torture someone when there’s no information to be had, but he’s not a spy right now. He’s just a father. A very, very angry father.

“Because I—”

Twilight wrinkles his nose in distaste. He’s already tired of hearing Theo’s voice. Yor and Anya have such pleasant voices. Twilight could listen to them all day and never tire of it. Theo? Not so much.

The only thing he wants to hear from this scumbag is his screams. He curls his finger around the trigger again, shooting Theo in the arm this time.

Another scream. Theo has devolved to simply sobbing in agony, unable to muster any more pleas for mercy. And now Twilight is tired of that, too. He decides he’s spent enough time here and finishes Theo off with a bullet to the head.

Tossing the gun aside, Twilight grabs two fresh ones from the fallen guards. With a grimace, he pushes aside the pain of walking on his injured leg and leaves the room. His guns are raised in preparation to shoot enemies on sight.

He spots Lina approaching from the hall, shoving Anya in front of her and flanked on either side by more enemies. They notice him and reach for the guns in their holsters, but it’s too late. Seven deafening rings in the air are followed by seven bodies dropping to the floor.

Too bad Lina’s death was so uneventful. He should have made her suffer even more than Theo for what she did to his Anya.

“Papa!” The little girl in question runs up to him and buries her face in his uninjured leg. She has her arms wrapped around him in a tight hug. Pure instinct has him patting her head comfortingly. He’s hit with déjà vu, remembering the way she approached him after the first time she was kidnapped. 

Twilight feels a flicker of guilt for engaging in such violence in front of his six year old daughter, but it can’t be helped. Funnily enough, Anya doesn’t seem bothered at all if the way she embraces him is any indication. Maybe she’s witnessed so much violence tonight that it no longer fazes her.

Anya peers up at him, her vibrant green eyes red-rimmed and puffy. His heart drops at the sight. She must have been so terrified, all alone without her parents and surrounded by criminals.

Loid wishes he could whisk Anya away from this awful place and wrap her in a fluffy blanket. He would feed her all the peanuts she could ask for while her favorite Spy Wars episode plays on TV. And she would sip hot cocoa, prepared by Yor of course, in her favorite mug. All in the safety of their warm home.

Instead of all that, he has to settle for kneeling and wrapping her in a proper hug. “You’re safe now. Papa will protect you,” he murmurs, rubbing soothing circles on her back. 

Twilight wishes he could offer her more comfort than this, but they’re exposed in this hallway. If someone were to find them right now, he would be completely vulnerable to their attack.

“S’okay, Papa,” Anya mumbles into his shoulder. “Beat the baddies.” 

He looks at her questioningly before dismissing it with a shrug. She has always been intuitive about these sorts of things. 

Twilight stands up, still cradling her to his chest with one arm. Holding Anya like this keeps one arm occupied, but it’s the only way Twilight can move quickly without leaving her in the dust. He’s managed missions with one arm before and he’ll do it again. 

The sound of gunfire and frantic shouting is much louder than before. Yor has been fighting alone the whole time, monstrously powerful in her own right. Twilight can’t help a spark of admiration for her strength and determination.

She has done a fine job of fending countless enemies off, but it is high time he joins his wife in the fray. He did promise to be by her side in sickness and in health, after all. Why not add battle to their vows? 

“Come on, Anya,” he says softly. “Let’s go meet your mother.”

A haze of killing intent guides Yor’s actions. She stopped thinking a while ago; now she simply repeats the cycle of systematic killing. Advance down another hall. Kill all enemies on sight. Hack, slice, stab, kick, punch—anything to eliminate her opponent as quickly as possible and find her family.

The influx of opponents has rapidly increased in the last twenty minutes. For some reason, their ranks have fallen into chaos, and now it looks as if everyone is just scrambling to escape the place alive, only to encounter Yor as she advances deeper into the building. She isn’t sure what caused the sudden lack of leadership, but it’s proving to be quite an annoyance. Every corner is packed with even more enemies to cut down, delaying Yor as she searches for Loid and Anya.

Yor turns another corner and quietly notices that their numbers have thinned down. Perhaps she’s killed most of them at this point?

Seeing another group of enemies, she makes her presence known. They jolt back in fear. Yor understands why—if she was covered in blood before, she must be drenched in it now. She’ll need a thorough bath after this. 

“Where are my husband and daughter?” She asks the standard question before she kills them. So far, no one has given much of an answer—they just tell her that they’re hidden deeper in the building before pointing behind them.

“They’re close by, only a few rooms down!” one of them squeaks.

Yor feels a stir of hope. That’s the best answer she’s gotten so far.  

“Idiot! Why are you telling her that?” their ally snaps. “Now, stop her!"

Weaving between a torrent of bullets, Yor closes the distance, stilettos brandished and gaze fixated on their vitals. She’s close enough to see the fear in their eyes, the moment of realization when her victims realize they are going to die. The ephemeral moment of acceptance, whether accompanied by desperate resistance or peaceful resignation, is perhaps the most fascinating aspect of Yor’s job. There is cruel beauty in the way people face their deaths. It tells more of their character than a lifetime of observation. 

But the one to end their lives is not Yor. Before she can finish them off with a stiletto to the heart, the harsh ring of gunfire pierces the air. She ducks into a crouch on instinct. Her first thought is that more backup has arrived, and Yor scolds herself for not noticing earlier.

Just as quick as she dropped to the ground, Yor springs back up. She’s about to dart into action, to take on the new batch of enemies, when the group in front of her slumps to the ground from precise bullet shots to the head.

Yor steps back in confusion. Betrayal? What reason is there for infighting? Then again, she knows that hitmen often clash with each other for greater shares of reward money…

No matter. She tightens her grip on her stilettos. Steels herself for the possibility of a more formidable opponent than all the previous ones. Ignores the exhaustion slowly building in her muscles. Is about to charge, when—

“Mama!” 

Her breath hitches in a gasp. That’s Anya’s voice—is she really—

Yor can’t help the way her eyes prickle with tears when she sees them in front of her, her body sagging in relief.

It’s Loid, standing in the darkness of the hallway. He’s dressed in a simple blue shirt and loose black pants. His clothes are rumpled, having clearly seen better days. He’s ruffled and ragged but he stands just as tall as he always does, carrying himself with the same controlled poise. In one hand he cradles Anya to his chest protectively, and in his other hand… a gun.

Loid’s grip on the weapon is natural. Casual. Practiced, even, like this is a regular occurrence for him. With the effortless way he nailed five people in the head from across a hallway, it probably is. It’s unbelievably both in and out of character for Loid at the same time, like she’s fitting an unknown piece together with the rest of the puzzle and beholding the complete picture for the first time. It dawns on Yor that she may not be the only one with secrets in this relationship.

And in Loid’s arms, their precious daughter, Anya. She’s in her nightclothes, and similar to Loid, they’re wrinkled and worn, even slightly torn at the sleeve. One look at Anya’s face tells Yor that she must have sobbed up an ocean tonight. A wave of self deprecation washes over Yor for not being there to soothe her daughter’s fears. Even worse, it’s Yor’s fault that Anya is in this situation in the first place.

And what’s that red mark on Anya’s cheek? No, Yor knows what it is. Another cloud of murderous thoughts settles over her. “Loid,” she asks her dear husband, “tell me, where can I find the bas”—she remembers she’s speaking in front of Anya—“bad person who harmed our dear Anya?”

The sky blue hue of Loid’s irises darkens to cobalt. “I already dealt with her. My only regret is making it too short and painless.”

Yor feels a twinge of disappointment. She wishes she could have had a part in that glorious spectacle, but she understands that practicality takes precedence when they are in enemy territory. 

Anya perks up. “More baddies coming!”

Loid and Yor blink at her in confusion. Moments later, they start hearing footsteps. Exchanging a glance with Loid, Yor moves swiftly and silently to the corner. The instant they round it, Yor weaves between them quicker than they can follow, bodies dropping like dominoes after she passes by. Bullets fly through the air above her head, but Yor feels no fear of them hitting her. In a matter of seconds, the new wave of enemies has been eliminated, either from a stiletto slitting their throat or a bullet piercing their skull.

“Go Mama and Papa!” Anya cheers. Yor shrinks in on herself immediately. Loid is one thing, but how could she let her daughter see this side of her? “Don’t worry, Mama!” Anya says. “Anya doesn’t think you’re scary! Anya thinks Mama is super cool!” 

Yor frowns in confusion. “But I didn’t…” Her gaze meets Loid’s and she sees her bewilderment reflected in his eyes. Silent agreement passes between them to think about it later. “A-anyway. Let’s go,” Yor says.

Loid takes a step forward. A small wince mars his features. Something tells Yor it was an involuntary reaction.

“What’s wrong?” she asks sharply. Has he been hurt too?

“It’s nothing, I—”

Her gaze is drawn to his leg. A slight limp, one that Loid desperately tries to hide from her keen eyes. It’s difficult to see in the poorly lit hallway on top of the black color of his pants, but now that Yor looks closer, she can see that the fabric is damp and stained with blood. 

“Your leg,” she says in horror. “What happened?”

“Papa was shot,” Anya informs Yor with a worried frown. 

Yor rushes to his side immediately. “And you’ve been walking on that leg?” Her voice borders on a growl. “Who did this to you?” she demands, already seething inside. A fresh surge of fury, more intense than any other time tonight, churns in her gut. She’s ready to unleash it on the next enemies who cross their paths.

“Already dealt with them,” Loid reassures her. Without any more reason to hide his injury, Loid lets his face screw into a pained grimace. Even that is controlled, masking how much it must really hurt, especially if he’s been putting weight on his leg the entire time.

It must be excruciating. Yor would know. She has scars to prove it.

“Anyway, I’m okay to walk. Don’t worry about me holding you back,” Loid continues. 

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” Yor says softly. Before she even knows what she’s doing, Yor is already brushing a strand of blond hair out of his face.

Her body goes rigid when she realizes what she just did. Yor is about to pull away and apologize when Loid closes his eyes and leans into her touch. Her brain short circuits.

“Loid—I—” Yor starts.

He opens his eyes and gives her a tired smile. “It’s been a long night, and everything I thought I knew about you was put into question when a group of people showed up at the apartment attacking us. They told me that my wife is apparently an assassin called Thorn Princess, and presumably, they wanted to take Anya and I hostage to use as leverage against you.” 

Yor opens her mouth to apologize profusely, to beg for forgiveness and swear that she’ll leave after this no matter how much she wants to stay. She’s caused so many problems for Loid but this is the worst by far.

Loid gives her a knowing look, silently imploring her to hear him out. “But despite all that, I was certain that there was one thing I did know about you: that no matter what you call yourself—Yor, Thorn Princess, whatever—you are a warm, loving person. Your love for our family… it was never fake, was it?”

Yor swallows. Her hand still hovers in the air between them, fingers brushing his soft cheek. “Of course not,” she whispers, voice heavy with emotion. “You and Anya—you two are my… my everything.”

Loid’s smile only grows wider. Yor wonders how something so beautiful can exist in a place like this. “That’s all I need to hear.” A twinge of self doubt flickers in his eyes. “I… I haven’t been completely honest with you either,” he admits—chokes it out, really, like it goes against something fundamental within him to expose such vulnerability to others. Yor knows how that must feel, and it makes it all the more meaningful—that despite it going against his instinct, he chooses to be honest, especially when the option is still open to lie. “But I…” Loid trails off, uncertain and out of his depth. It’s a far cry from the cool and composed husband Yor is so familiar with.

“We’ll figure it out together,” she promises. It’s already so much better than Yor hoped—Loid hasn’t asked her to leave—he’s even accepting her and being honest in turn, and her eyes are brimming with tears again because it’s all too good to be true. 

Oh. Loid turns his face and plants a gentle kiss on her fingers, an uncertain but unmistakably loving smile playing at his lips. Oh, he really means it.

“Anya has something to tell Mama and Papa too,” their little girl says quietly. 

Yor’s face burns and she retracts her hand, immediately missing Loid’s warmth. Right—Anya has been here the whole time.

“Anya… has been keeping her own secret too. And Anya isn’t sure if Mama and Papa will want to stay with Anya after finding out.”

This can’t be allowed to pass. Yor has to remedy this immediately. “Nothing could ever make us leave you, Anya,” she says fiercely. And she means it. Yor loves her daughter, loves this family. She is never letting anything take Anya away from her again, no matter what fate throws at her.

Anya blinks up at Yor. Her eyes are wide with some unreadable emotion. Yor thinks it’s love.

“We’ve all been keeping secrets. It would be hypocritical of us to blame you for having your own,” Loid adds. 

Anya sniffles. “You really mean it…”

Yor smiles and presses a kiss into her hair. “Of course we do. We love you, Anya.” 

The three of them remain like that for a moment, basking in the comfort of each other. Eventually, Yor has to pull back. They’ve spent far too long here.

“It’s time to go home,” Loid says, echoing her thoughts.

Yor nods. “How are you on ammunition?”

He stoops down and grabs a fresh gun from one of the fallen enemies, throwing away his old one. “Ready to go.” Loid smiles warmly. It’s still so strange to see him like this, standing among all these dead bodies and wielding a gun as gracefully as he would a cooking pan. But Yor finds that it’s not a sight that she is averse to.

“Good.” Without any more delay, Yor scoops him into her arms effortlessly, holding him in a bridal carry. “Cover us with gunfire, will you?” She tries not to think about how warm he feels, and how right it is to hold both him and Anya so close.

“What—” Loid splutters. His face is adorably pink. Of course—of all the things to catch him off guard tonight, it’s this that truly does him in. Yor can’t help a small giggle at his expense.

Anya grins from where she’s still perched in his embrace. “Papa is a princess!”

“No I’m not—Yor, what is this?” he questions.

“I’m not letting you walk on that leg any longer. Who knows how much you’ve aggravated the injury already?” Yor responds. She wants to get out of here fast so she can give Loid proper medical attention. “You’ll be our main source of protection since my arms are occupied, so I’m counting on you, Loid!”

“R-right.” 

They move quickly after that. Thanks to Yor’s efforts—and Loid’s too, she realizes now—there aren’t many enemies left. On top of that, some of the lucky survivors also managed to escape in all the time they spent talking.

But the ones they do encounter don’t stand a chance against the rhythm Loid and Yor have settled into. Loid demonstrates his excellent marksmanship, shooting opposition down from dozens of feet away, unfailingly perfect headshots—all while he’s jostled up and down from the constant sprint Yor keeps up. On the few occasions that Loid runs out of ammo in the middle of a fight, Yor closes the distance and eliminates the enemies with brute force. A kick from her is enough to shatter their bones and send them flying into a wall, never to stand back up.

Anya simply holds on tight and lets out a series of ooh’s and ah’s, seemingly unbothered by the violence. Always their little cheerleader. Yor isn’t sure if she should be concerned or proud.

And then, just like that, they’re out of that cursed building. Yor has half a mind to set it on fire and watch it burn, but she has higher priorities at the moment. Namely, the precious cargo in her arms.

“What now?” Yor asks. Now that it’s all over, she feels lost and unsure about their next steps. “Can we even go back home? Is it safe?” 

Anya blinks up at her. “Are we gonna have to sleep in an alley?” 

“No way!” Yor exclaims. She will not let her family sleep out in the cold. They deserve a nice, warm bed, complete with fluffy blankets and Bondman themed toys and Mr. Chimera, of course. She’ll ask Yuri if they can stay over if she must, or they can rent a hotel. Although—Yor inspects herself self consciously—there’s blood all over her clothes. No one will let her walk into their establishment when she looks like she just massacred an army. Which, to be fair, she sort of did. And Yor can already imagine Yuri’s shock and concern if she were to show up at his door like this. 

Now that they’re out of danger, the adrenaline is fading away. Yor feels the exhaustion catching up to her. After all the fighting she did, she just wants to curl up and sleep. Maybe she will settle for an alley at this point. Anything to get some rest. 

“There should be a WISE safehouse nearby. We can stay there for the night. They’ll have medical supplies, too,” Loid says, pulling her from her thoughts. 

“WISE?” Yor repeats.

He smiles wearily. “The agency I work for.”

“Oh.” Yor doesn’t ask anything more. She will eventually, but not now. All that matters now is that they are safe, and they are together.

The moon is straight overhead now. It casts them in gentle silver-white hues, bathing them in its tranquil glow. 

“Look, Anya can see the stars!” Anya points up at the sky in wonder.

Loid laughs softly. “It’s a beautiful night, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Yor agrees quietly.

The worst of it is over, but there is still much that is unresolved. Yet it doesn’t bother her. Instead, Yor feels calm. She is at peace for the first time in this long night. Because she’s with them. Her Loid. Her Anya. 

She closes her eyes and allows herself a small smile. They’ll worry about it in the morning.

For now, she basks in the simple pleasure of family.