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Twilight enters the room, sees Anya's bright smile, hears Bond's excited barks, feels Yor's hand, firm, on his shoulder. Welcome home, they all say.
He answers with a soft laugh and returns their enthusiastic greetings with a smile that slips on seamlessly as if it were already there. It takes him a second to remember that this family isn't real. It's a façade, built on a mission to prevent war.
Somewhere in the deepest corner of his mind, he plays with the idea that maybe, if only circumstances were just a little different, this could have been his real family too. He thinks in another life, he could have learned to care for Anya like she was his real daughter, loved Yor like a real wife, thought of these people as his true family.
But then Yor tilts her head, eyes wide with well-meaning concern, and asks softly, "Loid?"
And the entire charade shatters, because that's not his name. He doesn't have a real name anymore.
So long as there is the threat of war, he cannot afford to get attached. Even Franky tells him that much, on occasion (despite his absolute hypocrisy; he's seen how the man looks at Anya these days, how he brings extra treats for Bond, smiles sweetly at Yor). Operation Strix is just that: an operation. A mission. He'll eventually have to leave this 'family' he's built up behind, without so much as another glance back.
He takes another second to remind himself that while right now he puts on the mask of Loid Forger, he is ultimately Twilight. Loid Forger is a psychiatrist, and a caring father, who loves his daughter and wife. Twilight, on the other hand, does not have a family. He is Westalis' best spy, who will put on and discard a thousand masks for the greater good, will kill hundreds if it's necessary to maintain the peace within his country. Twilight does not have a family to care about, does not have the capacity for love at all.
Thus, there is something of a blank disconnect when he faces the Thorn Princess.
He recognizes her almost instantly, familiar ruby eyes glimmering with malice, dark hair pinned up with sharp gold, deft hands wielding signature knives of the infamous Ostanian assassin. He knows the dress, too, once worn innocuously to a party, back when they first met. When she speaks, her voice is stone-cold, but he knows it all the same.
"May I have the honour of taking your life?"
Loid Forger would have reacted, but right now he is Twilight on a mission, wearing the mask of some minister who is apparently the target of the Thorn Princess, and so he doesn't say anything, doesn't give away any emotion as Yor Forger lunges towards him with the intent to kill.
Except maybe that's not Yor at all, Twilight thinks as she swings at him without a hint of hesitation, in the same way that Twilight is not Loid. He dodges her attacks, which are frighteningly fast, and he knows that he has to leave because he is unfortunately and severely outmatched in terms of close-quarters combat. Briefly, he remembers a night (one that seems only like a distant memory now), up high in a castle, where he battled Yor one on one. If he could barely win against an inebriated, unarmed Yor, Twilight certainly cannot take on the Thorn Princess with her golden spikes and murderous intent. He may have a gun (with a silencer, says a familiar voice somewhere in his head), but he's not given a chance to aim it, much less shoot, and it would be especially difficult in this small of a room regardless of whether or not he had an opportunity. Twilight can identify a lost fight when he sees one.
He looks for routes to escape: there's a window, large enough to fit a person through, and only one door, except one Ostanian assassin stands between him and any possible exits. He's running out of options, and he can't keep this up for long; there's only so long Twilight can stall for. The Thorn Princess advances on him again, after letting out a growl of frustration at his evasiveness (one that sounds distinctly unlike the Yor that Loid knows), and it's all he can do to block and dodge the kicks aimed at his head, then the jab towards his stomach, the knife pointed at his chest. He's trapped, Twilight thinks distantly. The Thorn Princess has a reputation for a reason: she doesn't let her targets get away often, if ever.
He backs up into a wall, desks on either side with a deadly assassin in front of him, and in a panic, or perhaps a measured decision, he does the only thing he can think of: in one smooth, practiced motion, he rips off his mask.
A golden spike stops what feels like a hair's breadth from his eye. It hovers there for a few moments, before it pulls back. Twilight watches red eyes widen in the dim light of the office, horror and recognition dawning. Suddenly her face twists, becoming expressive in a way so different than before, as if she too had taken off a mask. Her eyebrows rise past her bangs, mouth dropping open in surprise, her hands slacken their grip on her weapon. Twilight thinks that suddenly, the woman in front of him is almost Yor Forger rather than the Thorn Princess.
But then she must see, really see the man before her—realize that this was not, in fact, the Loid Forger she thought she know—and her expression shifts again. The shock melts into understanding, as her mouth closes and presses into a tight line. He can practically see the dots connecting in her brain as everything clicks into place.
"Twilight."
Somehow, his codename out of Yor's (or is it the Thorn Princess?) mouth sounds wrong in every way. Twilight pushes himself off the wall, inclines his head slightly, and she takes a few steps back, something stony settling back into red eyes.
"Thorn Princess," he returns evenly, despite how much the title doesn't sit right on his tongue. Her face falls flat, eyes narrow back into slits, and her posture stiffens.
"I can't let you live," she tells him, voice detached. Which, of course. Not only does he knows her identity, but they're on opposite sides of this cold war.
He pulls out his gun. She lets him. "I can't either."
Twilight doesn't raise the gun. The Thorn Princess makes no move to ready her weapons. It's a few more seconds of a stilted standoff, until the sound of approaching footsteps from down the hall makes them both snap out of whatever stalemate they had reached.
Someone had returned to check on the office. Twilight had accounted for that in his initial plan, of course, but the search wasn't originally supposed to take this long, nor was he supposed to have taken off his mask, as he had not, in fact, accounted for an assassin to interrupt him. An assassin that also happened to be his fake wife.
He refocuses on the current priority: Escaping.
The Thorn Princess is closer to the window, and reaches it first. It swings open with minimal struggle, and she spares an unreadable glance back at Twilight before she gracefully jumps out. They're on the third floor of the building, but he's seen her jump from higher elevations before. He takes a few moments to look around, grimly noting the mess they've left behind, but ultimately decides that there's no cleaning it up in time, and quickly follows suit, after making sure the coast is clear down below.
By the time he lands, the Thorn Princess is, predictably, nowhere in sight. He brushes his suit off a little, tucks his gun back out of sight, and hides around the corner. Twilight tries to collect his thoughts, but it's a losing battle.
He doesn't know what to do.
He's messed up, that he knows. He runs the situation through in his mind, replays the events in his head over and over. If he had been quicker in searching for the files. If he hadn't hesitated after seeing her. If he had been paying more attention to his surroundings he may have noticed her sooner. But then again, maybe not.
(A woman's voice speaks from behind him, startling him—he hadn't heard anyone enter the boutique. He turns to see a polite-looking woman talking to the clerk. How had she walked up without him noticing? He must have let his guard down, he thinks, and resolves to not let that happen again.
Yet after all that, sometimes he doesn't notice Yor has entered a room until she starts speaking.)
There's no point in dwelling on the what-ifs at this time, he knows, so he moves on to the problem at hand.
Yor knows his identity. The Thorn Princess does, too. They're the same person, and perhaps that's the more important matter.
Yor is the Thorn Princess. The Thorn Princess is Yor.
It would explain the inhuman strength and dexterity, her skills in cleanliness but lack of proficiency in anything else. In hindsight, maybe he should have pieced it together sooner, but Yor was so odd that he didn't spare it much thought at all.
What course of action would be the correct one? Operation Strix would be put in danger if he were to eliminate Yor, but he can't just ignore the fact that she's an assassin on the enemy side.
He considers consulting his Handler, but Twilight has a sinking feeling that he knows what her response would be. Cold. Calculating. Eliminate all threats. Yor Forger is replaceable.
She is replaceable, this Twilight knows, and yet, somehow the thought of tossing Yor away like she was nothing more than a tool that had no more use to him—it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, and dread pooling at the bottom of his stomach. Because he doesn't want to have to replace Yor, and not just because it would be an inconvenience to find someone new to play his wife. Despite all her shortcomings, he finds that he cannot imagine a better person to be Anya's mother than Yor Forger.
And that's bad, isn't it? It means he's gotten attached. But he doesn't love her, not really. Twilight is not capable of love, he does not and cannot love people. He doesn't love Yor. Yor, who happens to be the Thorn Princess. He wonders, briefly, if the Thorn Princess is capable of love.
He wonders if Yor ever really loved Loid.
(Don't get attached. Eliminate all threats.)
His explanation to Handler on why he hadn't successfully completed the mission leaves out just a few minor details, Twilight tells himself.
"An assassin from Ostania?" Her face stays neutral, but there's a hint of surprise in her voice. "I didn’t think they would go that far for him, but I suppose it's plausible." Sharp blue eyes turn on him. "Could you recognize them? Anything distinctive?"
Twilight shakes his head. He's not entirely sure why he does. "It was a woman, dressed in all black. I haven't seen her before, although if I saw her again I could most likely pinpoint her." It's true, in a way, Twilight reasons. Twilight has not seen the Thorn Princess before, not until tonight.
Sylvia's searching gaze lingers for what feels like a few beats too long. Twilight is aware that while he may be a good liar, his handler is the most frighteningly perceptive woman he knows. In the end, she nods, seemingly satisfied, and if she suspects anything she doesn't say it aloud.
She tells him that she'll get someone else to deal with the aftermath of the mission, and he's dismissed soon after that. Twilight leaves swiftly, eyeing every shadow carefully and listening for odd noises on his way back to Loid Forger's home. The Thorn Princess spared him once, but he can't be certain of his safety from the assassin just yet. The top priority at the moment, he decides quickly, is Anya. He has to ensure that Loid's daughter does not come to any harm.
When he gets home, he can hear Anya's snoring from the hall, and a quick peek into Yor's room reveals that she has yet to return. She may still be making a report on a failed mission, like he did, or perhaps she was tracking down the actual target. Either way, he resolves to wait for her return.
He doesn't have to wait long. The front door clicks open and shut a couple of minutes later, followed by the sound of heels clicking on the floor. The Thorn Princess steps into the living room, where Twilight is sitting on the couch. There doesn't seem to be any blood visible on her, although the colour of her dress makes it difficult to tell. Her weapons aren't in hand, but he knows how fast she can draw them.
Her stance is tense, and her expression looks anxious, but she doesn't look like she's preparing to fight or flee, which Twilight takes as a good sign. She doesn't meet his eyes, her gaze instead flitting around the room, noticeably lingering down the hall to where Anya's bedroom is.
"Yor," he tries, speaking softly. Finally, Yor's eyes snap to look at him.
"Loid," she returns just as quietly, and the exchange is almost identical to the one they had an hour ago. "But, that's not your real name, is it?" She doesn't sound accusatory, and her voice still holds the polite tone it always does.
"No, it's not," he agrees, but doesn't offer any more.
Yor's eyes flicker away. "Was it all a lie, then?"
Twilight follows her line of sight to see that she's looking at their family portrait on the wall. He takes a deep breath.
He tells her the truth.
(Trust no one. Don't get attached. Eliminate all threats.
Yor Forger is replaceable.)
"Yes, it was."