Chapter Text
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Yuri stopped the car and turned the key in the ignition. His crimson eyes were serious as he looked at her in concern. “If you want to find a partner so bad, I could always introduce you to someone.”
Yor glanced out the passenger side window. People in stylish evening wear slowly climbed the steps leading up to a grand castle archway. Behind them were a line of cars bearing more fancily dressed arrivals. “Don’t worry about me, Yuri. It’s just a gala.”
“It’s not just a gala!” Her brother took a hand off the wheel and gestured wildly at a flock of women passing the car. “This is a gala filled with the most dangerous people in the underworld! And not to mention, they’re all here for one purpose: kissing the boots of whatever bachelor or bachelorette that needs a partner for looks.”
Matchmaking galas were the combined Westalian and Ostanian underworld’s answer to presenting themselves to society as ordinary, functioning citizens. When engulfed in the worlds of organized crime, espionage, and other shadowy government operations, the only way to find an equal was to find someone as equally messed up as themselves. There were always four or five matchmaking galas a year, usually hosted by one particularly coveted bachelor or bachelorette of the season. While most people attended hoping to catch the eye of the host, it was also an opportunity to meet other singles in need of a partner.
Yor was never interested. She hadn’t even planned on going to this one. It took the Shopkeeper straight up ordering her to go for her to even consider it.
“And what’s so great about this guy even?” Yuri continued on his tirade, “Twilight. What a stupid name. Sounds like some purple unicorn fairy princess from a children’s show or something.”
“I think it’s a pretty name,” Yor hummed. Pity it was wasted on a man.
Yuri turned to her. “Why are you even considering this, Sis? He’s from the West.”
She shrugged. “We both share a common goal: peace between our nations. That’s enough to make me want to consider this.”
Yuri clenched his fists. “I want you to marry someone you love.”
“Oh Yuri,” Yor gently chided her brother, “You know I’ve told you this a million times already. I don’t love the same way most people do. Finding someone with similar interests and goals as me is enough.”
“But that’s not enough!” Yuri protested, “You mean the world to me, Sis. I want you to be happy.”
“Being happy doesn’t mean I have to find love.”
“Grrrr…” her brother relented, “I just don’t think this Twilight guy is your answer to that.”
“He’s not. Maybe I’ll meet some other people at the gala.” Her tone of voice was not convincing at all.
“You’re not going to go looking for other people,” Yuri deadpanned. He knew her too well. “You’re only going because the Shopkeeper made you.” He jabbed a finger in the vague direction of the castle. “Okay, so tell me: what does the Shopkeeper see in this guy so much, huh? Why’s he making you go? Should I kill him instead? I can get the Secret Police to arrest him if you want so he gets off your case about marrying a random guy.”
“No, no, Yuri, calm down.” Yor waved a hand placatingly. Her brother slid back down in the driver’s seat. “The Shopkeeper believes that there is much to gain here, even if I don’t match with Twilight. There is no better cover than that of a happily married couple, which means I can operate far more easily as the Thorn Princess. And-” she held up a finger, “if I do get along with Twilight, then he’ll certainly become a strong asset to us.”
Yuri regarded her with a frown. “Okay, so just because it’s good for your job-”
“Yup,” she nodded. Now he was getting it.
“-and he’s tall, smart, handsome, got really nice eyes-”
Yor turned to her brother in alarm. “Yuri, how do you know that?”
Yuri snapped his head around, firmly staring directly ahead. “I might’ve had a run-in with him,” he said levely, “Once. During my job.”
Yor tilted her head and smiled knowingly at him. “Are you sure you don’t want to join me at the gala?”
“What!? No!” Yuri squawked, his face flushing.
“You know it’s okay to like men, right?”
“I don’t like him!” her brother screeched, “Get out!”
Yor reached for the door handle. “Okay, I will.”
“Wait no- don’t!” Yuri lunged across the center console and caught her hand, “Promise me you’ll be safe, okay, Sis?”
“I will be, Yuri, I promise,” she reassured him.
His eyes narrowed dangerously. “If anyone with bad intentions lays a hand on you, tell me and I’ll-”
“They’ll be dead before they hit the floor.” Yor smiled sweetly at her brother. “Don’t worry Yuri, I can take care of myself.”
The scowl faded from his face. “I know, Sis,” her brother admitted, “It’s just- You’ve done so much for me that I just want to make sure you’re happy. You shouldn’t do anything you don’t want to do.”
“I’m not.” Yor popped the car door open and stepped out. “In the best case, I find someone interesting. In the worst case, I enjoy a fancy night out with free food.”
“Alright,” Yuri conceded. “Stay safe, Sis. Do you need a ride back?”
“No, I’ll just call a taxi. I don’t want you waiting up for me when you’ve got work tomorrow.” She gave him a wave, “Bye Yuri!”
Yuri’s eyes watered, and then he burst into tears. “Bye Sis!” he bawled from the driver’s seat, “Byeeeeee! I love you so-”
Yor slammed the door shut, cutting off the rest of her brother’s adorations. She straightened her dress, checked that her golden needles were safely sheathed out of sight on her upper thigh, then slowly began climbing the steps up to the castle.
The herald at the door of the grand ballroom announced her arrival. “Presenting the Mistress of Death, the Garden’s most deadliest rose: the Thorn Princess!”
The chattering in the ballroom fell silent. Only the music from the live orchestra accompanied the tap of her heels on marble. Yor couldn’t help but duck when cautious gazes fell upon her. The crowd parted around her like a school of fish around a shark. Was something wrong? Did she miss a blood splatter on her clothes? She itched to check but that would only draw more attention to herself. She knew it was a bad idea to wear her work dress, but it was the only one she had that was fancy enough for the occasion.
The conversation picked up again, but they were only whispers of her name. Normally she would never announce her presence so publicly, but this gala was as much a marketing ploy as a matchmaking event. The Garden needed customers, and this crowd of underworld citizens was the target audience. Yor held her head high and resisted the urge to grab her golden needles.
Eventually the crowd grew bored and she felt their gazes drift away from her. Yor quickly slipped into the crowd, feeling relief wash over her. She considered making a beeline for the refreshment table, but decided against it. She had already come all this way, there was no way she could leave without seeing the famed spy Twilight herself. He was quite easy to find despite the crowd. A line of people snaked up to an ornate dias at the back wall of the ballroom. For someone as secretive as a spy, he sure was drawing a lot of attention to himself.
Yor stepped in line. A few people glanced her way, but no one approached her with the intent of striking up conversation. She thanked her reputation for that. Being stuck in a line for who knows how long while engaged in a polite conversation with someone who was interested in her for purposes beyond hiring her to kill someone was the absolute worst.
She wondered what she would talk to Twilight about. Shared interests were important in a partnership. Despite being on two opposite sides, both of them wanted peace between their nations. He seemed to be a man of action, so Yor wondered if he would be interested in a discussion about weapons.
As she neared she strained to catch a glimpse of him. She didn’t know what to expect. Twilight was known to be a master of disguise. He could change faces at will, who knew if the face he was wearing today was his true one. All she knew from Yuri was that he supposedly had nice eyes.
Yor reached the front of the line. A man was reclined leisurely on a plush chair with his feet kicked up on an ottoman. In one hand he held a glass of champagne. He wore a stylish tailcoat with a bright red inside lining. His most striking feature was his poofy black hair pulled back into a ponytail. Overall, he had a rather roguish look, accentuated by his angular face and the singular, silver earring adorning one ear.
His eyes looked… rather normal.
Awww, Yuri really got caught up with his crush, didn’t he?
“Hello darling,” the man greeted her. He swooped in and grabbed her hand for a kiss.
Yor allowed him a light peck before pulling her hand away. “Oh hello, um, Master Spy Twilight.” She gave him a small curtsy. “It’s a pleasure to-”
“Don’t forget Princess Anya!” a shrill voice interrupted.
Yor turned to find a young girl, no more than four or five, sitting to the right of Twilight in a puffy pink chair that almost matched the strange color of her hair. She wore a gold-lined black dress and stared up at her with wide, green eyes. A silver tiara was nestled in her hair.
“Oh, hello Your Highness.” Yor daintily lifted the long hem of her dress and gave her a curtsy. She noticed a giant, white dog curled at the foot of her chair. A guard dog, perhaps? “And a hello to your doggy friend there too. It’s a pleasure to meet you all.”
Princess Anya jabbed a finger at her faithful hound. “That’s Bond! He says hi!”
The dog in question raised his head. Two beady eyes stared at her from beneath a heavy brow. Bond gave her a once-over before laying back down.
“I like this lady!” Anya pointed a finger at her and turned to the man beside her, “She said hi to me and Bond.”
“Okay, okay,” Twilight waved a dismissive hand, “Write her name down.”
Anya opened a pink notebook and dutifully jotted something down in a sparkly pen. When Yor glanced over all she saw were scribbles.
“So, Thorn Princess, was it?” Twilight leaned back and crossed his hands under his chin. “Your arrival caused quite a stir. What gives?”
“Very few people who see me live to tell the tale,” Yor said honestly.
The man’s eyes shrunk to pinpricks.
Oh no! Yor thought, That sounded too threatening!
“Erm, you’re that good at your job, huh?”
“You could say that!” Yor said awkwardly. Change the subject, change the subject! “So, um, Master Twilight- I appreciate your continuous efforts towards peace between Ostania and Westalis. It certainly makes my job easier when I have to kill less p-” Yor cut herself off. Oops!
Twilight looked uneasy again. “World peace? Eh, don’t worry about that.” His answer seemed evasive.
Everything was going wrong. Was she being too political? Too serious? Could she really bore someone whose work revolved around peace between nations with the very topic? Oh, maybe he wanted to relax and she was disrupting that by bringing up his job…
Yor watched his attention drift off to the lady behind her. He eyed her slender cocktail dress and a dumbstruck expression crossed his face. She understood now. What a shallow man. She had thought that her own physical appearance was pleasing, all the curves in the right places, as one of her civilian friends had said, but apparently that was not enough for Twilight.
Hey, my eyes are up here! she was tempted to yell, but then: Why am I even vying for his attention? This was a marriage for convenience. She would not marry a man who couldn’t even keep his eyes on her.
This man is a joke, Yor thought, disappointed, I shouldn’t have come here.
“It was a pleasure meeting you, but I must get going.” She gave a quick curtsy to each member on the dias. “Master Twilight. Princess Anya. Bond.”
“Bye!” Anya waved back enthusiastically.
“Yeah, yeah, nice to meet you too.” The world-renowned spy waved her away with the flick of a hand.
Yor descended the dias stiffly. Her hands twitched with murderous intent. What a shallow man. I cannot believe WISE left the peace between Ostania and Westalis to someone like him. She slipped into the crowd again, intent on slipping away without anyone realizing. She felt eyes on her. With notoriety came attention. Of course people would notice when the famous Thorn Princess had been rejected by Twilight.
Yor huddled deeper into the shawl around her shoulders. It was time for escape route A, then. She had spotted a servant’s entrance earlier in the far wall of the ballroom, where the crowd thinned significantly. There was no way she would walk back through the main entrance when she had only just entered less than an hour ago, people would notice. The servant’s entrance was only patrolled by a singular waiter stationed a few feet in front of the door. That would make it easy to slip away without witnesses. She approached the waiter from an angle so that she was not in his immediate field of vision and noiselessly slipped behind him.
“What the-” the man startled and promptly dropped his tray full of champagne flutes.
Yor reacted instantly. Her leg shot up, catching the tray on the side of her foot. It would have been a perfect save, if it weren’t for two flutes that quivered, and then toppled.
The waiter dove forward, catching the two fallen flutes right before they hit the floor.
“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” Yor brought a hand up to cover her mouth in horror. Everything was going wrong. She couldn’t even make her departure discreetly.
The man stared at her from where he had fallen on the floor. His eyes darted between her, the three giant golden needles on her thigh now exposed by the angle of her legs, and the tray of champagne balanced on her foot.
“Oh, sorry!” Yor grabbed the tray with her hands and set her foot back down.
The man slowly picked himself up from the floor. His mouth still hung open in shock.
Yor wordlessly handed the tray back to him.
“Thank you.” The man took it graciously. He wore thin half-rim glasses and his blond hair was combed back neatly. “You really saved me back there, Miss.”
“No, no, it was my fault. I made you drop it in the first place.”
“Not at all!” he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, “I should’ve heard you back there. You completely slipped by me unaware!”
“Sorry, sorry, I have a tendency of doing that, being an-” She pressed her lips into a thin line. Assassin. She probably shouldn’t say the word. It had made enough people wary around her already.
The man stared at her again. His eyes were a steel blue. “You’re the Thorn Princess,” he said with a note of wonder. He bowed and extended a hand, “May I?”
“What?” Yor uttered in confusion, and then understood, “Oh, um, sure.” She offered him her hand.
The man took her hand in his and pressed a single, chaste kiss against it.
Heat flared in her cheeks. Her heart pounded impossibly fast. She covered her mouth with a hand. This was something she had never experienced before. Was this the adrenaline from meeting Twilight earlier finally catching up to her?
“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” The man straightened up. “To be quite frank, I didn’t know if you were real.”
“Real?” Yor clutched her hands to her chest in horror, “Why wouldn’t I be real?”
“No disrespect, but your feats of strength sound like something right out of a fairytale.” The waiter smiled disarmingly, “but now that I’ve seen you in action, I believe it.”
“You flatter me, Mister-” A wave of horror crashed over her. He had been so polite to her and she hadn’t even bothered to return the favor. As someone who grew up working, she always despised the people who treated workers as if they were invisible. “Oh I’m so sorry, I didn’t ask you your name.”
The waiter stared at her, his eyes wide in surprise. “My name? Call me Roland.”
Yor liked the shape of his eyes. She wondered if he wore eyeliner to get such sharp, aquiline angles. “Is that your real name?”
“No.”
That meant only one thing. “You’re in this line of work too?”
“Of course. Everyone in this castle, even down to the wait staff, are in this line of work.”
Yor took a better look at him. He wore a black waistcoat over a white dress shirt with a black bow tie. A black half apron was fastened around his waist. Nothing about him screamed underworld operative. Then she scanned the sea of people. Nothing about them did either. In their fancy dress within the dignified walls of a ballroom, it was a scene right out of a fairytale. She sighed and tipped her head up to stare at the vaulting arches holding up the ballroom ceiling. “I can’t believe Twilight lives in a castle.”
“He doesn’t,” the waiter grumbled.
“Really?” she returned her gaze to him, “Then why’s the gala in this castle?”
The man heaved a world weary sigh. “His daughter wanted it to be.”
“His daughter.” Yor’s eyes found the pink-haired girl sitting beside Twilight on the dias. “Twilight has a daughter?”
“Yes.”
She thought back to his dismissive treatment of her. “I didn’t take him to be a family man.”
“Twilight didn’t expect to become a family man.”
Yor wondered how that happened. A honeytrap gone wrong? It would not be safe for spies to have small children. “Is that why he’s looking for a wife? As a mother for his child?”
“Yes… and no…” Roland drew out. “He’s only holding this gala because his friends and boss made him.”
“My boss made me come here too,” Yor admitted. “I don’t really see the point in marriage and love, you know? Why is everyone so determined to get married before a certain age? Because they want to? Who’s telling them they have to?” She caught herself. “Sorry, sorry! I’m rambling.”
“No, I agree. I never understood the point of marriage.” He turned, nodding a head at the crowd, “At least these matchmaking galas give a purpose to it. The perfect cover of a nuclear family, a fellow partner in crime. Must be nice to have someone to watch your back for once.”
“Yes.” She didn’t mind it when marriage was a business affair.
He offered her a flute of champagne from his tray. “Care for a drink?”
She waved it away. “No, I’m fine, thank you.”
“Not one for alcohol?” He passed it off to a passing gala attendee.
“No, quite the opposite actually. I just can’t hold it well.”
“Ah,” the waiter nodded in understanding. “I’m the opposite. It does nothing to me.”
A flock of gala attendants passed by, grabbing champagne flutes off Roland’s tray. He finished distributing the rest of them and returned the tray to his side with a sigh.
Yor considered trying to slip away again. She’d had a good conversation with this nice man and didn’t want to hold him up any longer.
She sent one last look back up at the dias. Twilight was engrossed in conversation with another woman, their gestures and pink-tinted cheeks suggesting that they were flirting. Beside them, Princess Anya squirmed in her seat in boredom.
Roland noticed the display as well. He covered his face with a hand and pinched his brows together. “-reputation’s going to be in shambles after tonight…” Yor heard him mutter, “...never going to recover from this…”
Up on the dias, Princess Anya finally had enough. She stood, said a few words to her father, then descended the dias. Yor couldn’t help but laugh to herself as she watched the girl attempt to get down the stairs with her short legs. It was very adorable.
Then the crowd swallowed her up.
Yor felt a wave of concern for her safety. As nicely dressed as the attendees might be, that still didn’t cover up the fact that they all had extensive ties to the underworld. A young girl on her own wouldn’t be safe, and not to mention, the daughter of the Westalian spy Twilight. Surely he had to have a few enemies in the crowd.
Yor strained to look over the heads of the crowd. A blob of pink appeared, briefly visible through a gap in the crowd. She watched it bob in and out of sight- until it abruptly vanished. Alarm shot through her. Yor took a few steps towards the edge of the crowd. People shifted around her. A woman stepped back, and Yor caught sight of a flash of pink. Across the room, Anya squirmed in the arms of a man. A hand was firmly clamped over her mouth to stop her from crying out.
No one around them seemed to notice. Or care.
The marble floor cracked beneath the ball of her foot.