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Chapter Text

Yor picked up the phone before its final ring, her movements stilling as she recognized the voice.

“Greetings, Thorn Princess. We have a new mission for you,”

The voice was as familiar to her as her brother’s, and never failed to invoke her with a sense of excitement.

“A man called The Prince will be attending a ball in three night’s time. Your job is to kill him,”

The Shopkeeper continued on, giving her all the details she would need. For this job, she would need to avoid detection— wait to kill the man until she could get him alone. No one else could know what was going on. And, she would have to go undercover as a member of the court in order to access the ball. Her new name? Ella Cinders.

“Mama!” Anya yelped as she hopped off the bus, running towards Yor.

Yor smiled down at the little girl. She was so sweet and cute, and so well behaved! Loid truly had wonderful parenting skills.

“Anya had fun at school! Although Syon-boy was annoying again… But we had cooking classes! Me and Becky made cookies together. Becky said they were cute and low class, but Anya thought they were yummy!”

“That’s great, Anya-san!” Yor pulled her pretend daughter into a hug, before starting to walk back to the apartment with her. “I’m sure you had fun.”

Anya nodded. “Did Mama have fun at her job?”

“It was okay. But Mama will have more fun in three days!” Yor’s brain flickered through images of her at a ball, or at least what she imagined one to be like.

Anya looked confused. “With Papa? You mean on the ooting you two are going on?”

Yor didn’t bother to correct her on the pronunciation. “Outing?”

“You and Papa were going to go to the fancy dinner place! And then go wrooom on a little boat!” Anya flapped her heads excitedly, motioning a boat soaring through the water.

That was right, how could Yor have forgotten? She and Loid had been planning this for a week at least. In three days… that would interfere with her assassin mission! She’d have to cancel, there was no way around it. Poor Loid…she hated to disappoint him again. Maybe she could bring home a cake or something to make up for it. Yes, that was it.

“Anya, how would you like to turn around and make a quick stop at the bakery?” Yor asked.

The girl was of course delighted with the idea, bobbing her head excitedly. Anya was not one to pass up cake.

“Twilight!” Handler barked. Twilight turned to watch Handler barrel down on him, grabbing his sleeve and yanking him back towards her office before he could leave. “You have a new job!”

“So I do…” he sighed. WISE was constantly flooding him with missions. Didn’t he have enough on his hands, raising an entire kid for Operation Strix?

“We’ve received Intel that The Prince is going to be assassinated at the Midwinter’s Ball in three night’s time. Obviously we can’t let this happen,” Handel said.

Twilight’s mind reeled. While The Prince was a criminal of the worst sort, involved with underground crime rings that sold drugs to the unsuspecting lower class, he couldn’t die. The political repercussions would be overwhelming. No one was set to take over that man’s job, and without him, there was a high chance that Ostania and Westalis could tumble into war. No, they must maintain the sheer veneer of peace, even if that meant hurting the lower class a little. They could stop the drug trading another day. “Obviously.”

“Right. So you’ll be taking his place.” Handler folded her arms and smiled, like the job was already settled.

He only blinked in mild surprise. “Taking his place? I’ll be the target at the ball and you’ll remove The Prince?”

“Yes. You can handle it, can’t you, Twilight?’

“Always.”

Handler smiled a little wider, patting him on the shoulder before turning to leave. “Sewn up like a button, as always. I knew you were our best agent for a reason. You’ll have two backups, of course. I’ll give you a paper with more information later.”

Nodding, he headed back towards the exit, face palming once he was in the closet heading back up to the street.

What was he thinking?! In three night’s time he had been planning an outing with Yor. Now he’d have to cancel, and risk hurting her feelings, and Operation Strix would falter. At least he had a job that gave him a reasonable excuse. An unstable patient again, of course.

Reaching the alleyway and donning his hat as he headed down the road, he resolved to bring home a cake and some wine as an apology. Although perhaps wine wasn’t the best idea, knowing Yor’s tendencies…

Yor fidgeted, struggling to keep her fingers still in her lap as she waited for Loid. It was best to cancel now, before he purchased tickets for the boat ride or anything.

Loid smiled at her as he set the hot food on the table, not seeming to notice anything amiss. He was the perfect husband, unlike her…

“Anya’s hungry!” Anya announced as she clambered into her chair, eagerly picking up her knife and fork.

“Don’t start eating until we’re all at the table,” Yor warned. She knew Loid was trying to teach Anya at least the basics of manners.

It was only a moment before Loid returned to his seat, smiling at them. “That’s not necessary. While I appreciate the thought, I wouldn’t want you to let your food get cold.”

Yor blushed slightly, absentmindedly stabbing at her food with her fork. He was so polite, never thinking of himself, only others.

“Watch out, Yor, you’re putting too much pressure on the knife!”

She looked up as Loid’s gentle but alarmed words entered her thoughts, just in time to realize but not enough time to stop. The plate was cracked, her fork bent as it hit the table.

“Mama broke a plate again!” Anya crowed, and her face flamed.

“Don’t worry, Yor. It’s just a plate. I bought cheap ones for just this reason. With having a kid in the house, you can never be too careful.” Loid stood up, moving to take away her plate.

She was no better than a kid… what must Loid think of her… “No, Loid-san, it’s alright, I can clean up.”

“No, you sit down. I’m sure you’ve had a long day at work.” He gently brushed her hands away, taking the plate from her.

It definitely had been a long day at work, but still. “Isn’t your work tiring too? Please don’t overextend yourself on my account. It’s my fault the plate broke.”
“It could happen to anyone.” Loid soothed.

Taking the plate back from his hands, she shook her head. “No, I should have been more careful. I’ll handle it.”

“Mama and Papa are flirting!” Anya announced loudly, beaming.

The two of them awkwardly met eyes, both flushed. “No we aren’t!” they chorused.

In the awkward silence that followed, Yor let him take the plate, fetching a small hand broom to sweep the glass shards off the table.

Dinner was a calmer affair after that. Yor didn’t break any more plates, and the food was good enough that no words needed to be said.

After it was over and Anya helped Loid clear away the plates, Yor brought out the cake and tried to figure out what to say.

“Hmm? Yor, what’s that?” Loid asked, spotting the brown bakery box in her lap.

“A cake.” Yor said quietly.

He turned from the kitchen, stepping towards the table. “For what? I didn’t forget your birthday, did I?”

Wheels were clearly turning in his mind, and Yor interrupted before he could fret that he’d forgotten her birthday.

“No, this was an apology. My work won’t allow me to be free after all, so we’ll have to cancel our outing three days from now.” Yor said.

Loid stared for a moment, before letting out a laugh. “This is great! I mean, not that I wanted to be away from you, Yor— I’ve genuinely been looking forward to that night, but—” He dashed into the kitchen, picking up a matching brown box and holding it up. “My job needs me too! I brought a cake as an apology.”

Yor laughed, too, when she realized. At least they were mutually letting each other down! She’d been feeling so guilty, and she imagined Loid was too.

“They match!” Anya declared. She’d been peeking into the box Loid had, and now held it up to her. “We both got the same cake!”

“We?” Loid asked curiously.

“Anya walked to the bakery with me when she got home from school,” Yor explained. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“Oh, no, that’s wonderful! I’m sure Anya loved spending time with you, and going on walks is an enjoyable way to spend the evening. I’m sorry I wasn’t home to meet Anya from the bus myself, but my work went later into the evening than I expected…”

She shook her head before he could say anything. “No, it’s perfectly fine! I’m always happy to take care of Anya when needed. Although it is a pity you didn’t come home to realize I was getting a cake… what are we going to do with two?”

Loid smiled and held up the phone. “Maybe we invite some friends over?”

Franky came on the double when he heard there was cake. Twilight cracked open the bottle of wine he’d gotten, inwardly relieved. He hadn’t received word of the city hall doing anything three days for now, and WISE normally kept tabs on Yor’s job, but it was a wonderful coincidence. Now he didn’t need to feel guilty.

“So, Anya,” Franky said, leaning forward.

Anya wrinkled her nose, likely at the smell of Franky’s breath. He was half drunk by now, at least.

“How are your studies going? I heard your school had a cooking class!” Franky said. Anya glanced towards Loid. While Anya hadn’t told Franky about the cooking class, it was reasonable to guess that Loid had, so he didn’t need to step in and explain that. If Franky said other things while he was drunk, however, he might have to.

“They’re fine. Becky helped me with my math some.” Anya replied flatly.

Nodding, Franky took a sip from his drink. Twilight would need to cut him off soon. “Math was never my strong suit, either.”

“If you ever need help with math, Anya, I’m always here. Or we could invite Uncle Yuri over. I’m sure he’d like that.” Twilight didn’t particularly like the SSS agent in his house, but sometimes there could be no avoiding it, and it was better to have it on his own terms than the man just dropping in.

Anya just stared at him, so Twilight turned his attention to his wife. Yor was lying on the couch, staring into space. She seemed to be a bit out of her wits, but not excessively so. Perhaps she was learning to hold her drink…

“Yor!” Franky crowed, tipping dangerously towards the floor before regaining his balance. “What say you to one more game of Stacky Sticks before I go?”

Nodding, Yor lurched forward. “Fine, but no more making them spin like you did last time!”

Franky had not done anything to make them spin, nor had they been spinning at all. Perhaps, not so sober after all.

Yor stumbled for her bedroom door. Her family was so nice… the evening had been quite pleasantly spent, with Anya and her husband Loid and of course his good friend Franky. And Loid wasn’t upset with her for canceling the dinner they’d planned! Everyone was so kind… It almost could have been real.

Except, of course, she’d never let them know the real reason, her real job. Some secrets had to stay that way. And so the family was not as perfect as it seemed.

Twilight brushed his hair out of his face before turning the knob of his bedroom door. A successful night. It was almost too good to be true, to perfect a coincidence, that Yor’s work interfered with the date as well. But he wasn’t letting the chance slip him by. Their family had to be perfect, and perfect it was. It might as well have been real.

But it wasn’t. Because Twilight would never let them know who he really was, what he really lived for. His real job was a secret that he would guard with his life. They might be the perfect family as far as anyone could see, but it was just a facade to protect the sheer veneer of peace.

Chapter Text

The lamp hurt his eyes, so bright in contrast to the surrounding darkness, but he couldn’t turn it off. He only had less than a day left before this mask would be needed, and it needed to be the best mask he had ever made.

Most of his masks held up to scrutiny, but this mask would be peered at by a thousand faces.

One of those faces would be trying to kill him. He couldn’t let them know the truth.

Twilight took in a deep breath. It was hard to overcome the sinking feeling that this mission would be his last. It was ridiculous. He’d been on countless missions, each of them more dangerous than the last. On none of them, except perhaps his first, had he felt scared.

But he did now. And he had no idea why.

He took those deep, calming breaths in. Handler had made him do them, so many years before, on his very first mission. He hadn’t needed them since then. He shouldn’t be needing them now.

Twilight was a strong, capable man. He’d outwitted and out fought spies and assassins alike. There was no reason that this time would be any different.

“Papa?”

Shoving the mask back, he quickly threw a dirty shirt over it and answered the door. “Anya? What is it? Why are you up so late?”

Anya blinked blearily at him, rubbing her eyes and shuffling her feet. “Anya can’t sleep.”

“And why is that?” Twilight bent down and took her little hand in his, leading her to the kitchen. Was she worried about school? Had something happened? Maybe she and Becky weren’t getting along.

“I’m scared.” she whispered.

He stopped. “Scared of what?” He’d heard of kids being scared of the dark. Anya fell asleep so easily, though, and he’d never seen her react to the dark other times. Was this a new occurrence? Had she seen a scary movie that frightened her?

“I don’t want Papa to go to work tomorrow! Something bad might happen!” Anya blurted, before breaking into tears.

Twilight immediately pulled her into his arms without a second thought. “Oh, Anya,” he sighed. “Why would something bad happen? I’m a psychiatrist. It’s hardly dangerous.”

Anya shook her head. “No, no, Papa’s gonna get hurt! And Mama will be sad when she finds out and I’ll go back to the, the orphan place! We won’t be a family any more!”

Staring at her weeping eyes with his tired ones, he tried to puzzle out why she would feel that way. Anya had gone to the hospital with him, she knew what he did. There was no reason for her to be scared for him.

Unless she knew where he was really going the next night. But that was impossible. The only way she could know that was if she could read minds or something like that.

“Anya, you know that we would never send you back to the orphanage. And I’m not going to get hurt tomorrow, alright? It’s just a late night appointment, nothing more. I think you just had a bad dream. Why don’t I make you some hot chocolate and then you go back to bed, okay?” Twilight said after a moment, scooping up the small girl and carrying her over to the table.

Once she was sitting down, tears gone and chocolate all over her face, he took a seat at the table, face in his hands. This was not helping with his nerves. Maybe he should have made a cup of hot chocolate for himself.

Loid waved goodbye to Yor, Anya, and Franky. He was the first to leave. While the ball he was going to for work didn’t start for a few hours, he had some last briefing with WISE.

All the details were laid out for him. Everything they knew about The Prince, all the supposed political repercussions made by experts, everything they knew about the mysterious assassin group hunting down The Prince.

He’d heard of Garden before, but he’d thought of it as a myth. To know that it was real, and now a great threat to him, was alarming. How many other things had he passed off as casual gossip? What else had he taken lightly only for it to grow larger in the shadows of the rumor mill?

The Garden was well hidden from their usual sources of Intel. Most of what they knew was guesswork, not fact. They had heard that it was only one assassin. They had heard that it was Garden. They had heard that it was happening at the ball, on the stroke of midnight.

But when it came down to it, they knew nothing at all.

For all they knew, it could have been a ply by SSS, aiming to catch their best spy.

Twilight was the best spy for a reason. WISE trusted him to withstand the force of the mysterious Garden’s strongest assassin, and they trusted him to evade any detection by SSS.

Now he just had to hope that trust was not misplaced.

He donned multiple masks right then. One was the Prince’s face. Another was purely for decoration, only covering his eyes and part of his nose.

And the third was the mask of a man who was much calmer than Twilight felt.

Yor fairly gasped as she pulled the dress out of the box. It shimmered, blue with tiny gold beads that made it appear to ripple as she walked, bouncing off the light. Not only was it beautiful, but practical. The dress had two layers, each with two slits in different places, so it never showed her legs but still gave her plenty of flexibility to fully extend her legs and kick without ripping the dress. It also had multiple hidden pockets for her to put her stilettos in. 

“Mama….” Anya gasped.

She jumped, not having noticed the girl creep down the hallway. Normally people couldn’t sneak up on her… she must have been really distracted by the dress. She even left the door open, a mistake she normally would never make.

“You’re so pretty!” Anya continued. “Like a princess!”

Smiling, she twirled for her daughter, fake as she was. “I definitely feel like a princess.”

“What’s the dress for?” she asked.

Yor inwardly panicked. Now she had to think of a good excuse for her to need such a fancy dress… why hadn’t she come up with one early… “It’s, er, for my job! The emergency work tomorrow evening is… err… I have to meet this ambassador, see? It’s rather an elegant affair so they sent me this dress.”

Anya’s eyes narrowed, and she nodded. “Elegant. Yes. I see. Wait, Mama, you can’t go tomorrow night! You have to stay here with me!”

“Why not?” Yor blinked, confused. Had she forgotten another commitment? Had she told Anya that she’d take her to the park or something?

“No, I don’t want to go to the park, I just want you to stay here with me! You’d get all sad if you went and then we wouldn’t be a family anymore!” Anya yelped.

Before she’d been confused, but now she was just plain befuddled. “What do you mean? I’m not going away forever. We’ll still be a family.”

Unless…

Did Anya mean that they wouldn’t be a family because of Loid doing something?

Maybe he was cheating on her afterwards, with that Fiona woman. Maybe Anya knew about it and thought that if Yor found out they’d abandon her.

But Yor wasn’t going where Loid was. If Loid really was meeting with Fiona (and throwing her over to do it!) it was somewhere else, somewhere she wasn’t going. Is that why Loid stayed late at work? Was he even really at work?

Any other time she’d be tempted to follow him, see what he was really up to, but this time her job was just too important to pass up. She could look into all that, another time.

Yor looked down at Anya, who was staring at her with the most dead and unimpressed expression ever. Had she done something wrong? She thought Anya liked her dress.

“Mama’s too obsessed with the co-walker lady.” 

“W-what?!” Yor was sure her face was bright red now. “I’m not! I just… I just…”

Anya sighed and shook her head as she walked away. 

Yor waited until Loid left to get ready. As soon as they were done waving and smiling him out the door, she disappeared into her room.

It took a full hour for her appearance to be perfect. Dress, weapons hidden up and down, makeup, hair. The final touch was a blue mask that covered just enough of her face to make her mysterious but not enough to hide her identity.

Yes, this task would be more difficult to carry out. Normally, she avoided detection because she killed everyone. Now… only The Prince would be facing judgment.

Yor slipped her own gold earrings in. They matched the dress perfectly. So did her headpiece.

On the other hand, this job was no more different than the others. Another face to extinguish.

Tonight would be perfect, if she had any say in it, Yor thought. Shopkeeper, prepare to be impressed.

She stepped out of the room.

“Wow…Mama…” Anya had thought her Mama looked sparkly before, but now she really did play the part of a princess. 

Anya just hoped both the Prince and the Princess would have a happy ever after.

Franky whistled. “Where are you going, dressed up like that? I didn’t know your job had you work with so many important people.”

Yor smiled demurely, telling him the same story she’d told Loid earlier. “I don’t usually get this chance, but the person who normally would escort the ambassador is sick, so it’s my job now. I’m just glad the dress fits both of us.”

Her dress had been fitted, right down to the shoes. They were so tailored to her, that Yor doubted that any other person could wear it like she did.

“Pity Loid’s not here to see this. I’m sure he would have enjoyed seeing your outfit.” Franky said, with a wiggle to his eyebrow.

She stared at him blankly. “Huh?”

“Because you look pretty right now? Oh, never mind. I’m sure you’re busy. Have fun at the party!” Franky called out.

Yor disappeared out of the door, and Anya climbed up to the windowsill to watch her Mama slide into a fancy limousine.

But, why was the limousine orange?

Chapter Text

Twilight met his two assistants before the ball. They were dressed as servants, and they were useless. He knew it will be entirely up to him to ensure this evening was a success. 

Nevertheless, he briefed them on the plan. “Watch the food. Obviously I will not be eating or drinking anything this evening, even if it comes from you. Watch the doors. Watch the guests. You will not see anything, but you will watch. If anything is wrong, you tell me. Understood?”

They both nodded in unison, quiet ‘Yessirs’ escaping from their lips as they bobbed their heads and returned to the rest of the staff.

Twilight had time to kill. It was a while before it was time for him to officially enter the ballroom. Naturally, Twilight did not kill time. He knew all to well that time will rear back around and kill him.
Instead, he checked all the entrances and exits. He set up cameras.

Most of it was pointless, but Twilight clung to those habits like old friends.

The Midwinter Ball officially begins at 10 PM, but guests arrive before then anyhow. These guests are the lower ranked, who will be overwhelmed by the food and drink. The ones of real importance do not arrive until 10, or later. Twilight himself will not enter until half past.

This time is more important than anything else, perhaps. The guests are entering.
He eyed each one carefully. Some are known. It is clear who Lady Elliot is and where Sir George’s carriage is parked. But some are unnamed. Even though he studied the guest list before hand, there are some people who secure themselves favors, or just show up unannounced (and are, of course, let in). There are always some surprise variables.

But it is the ones on the guest list that Twilight is watching.

One figure caught his eye. A stunning lady with jet black hair and a blue and gold dress. While her attire was impressive, it wasn’t her appearance that caught his eye. No, it was her stride. Her beautiful, familiar stride.

Twilight narrowed his eyes. He had met that lady before.

Of course, he had met most of the guests coming before hand on various occasions for various reasons. But this lady felt…. Extra, familiar, for lack of better word. 

 He watched her as she walked all the way up the marble stairs and into the marvelous building, nearly missing the arrival of a young politician. 

Yor barely restrained herself from gawking. The lights, the food, the decorations, the music…. 

It was all a wonder to behold. Yor had been to some pretty fancy places for her various jobs, but this certainly topped them all. The chandelier sparkled with what could only be a thousand sparkling diamonds. Rather than a chocolate fountain, the Midwinter Ball boasted one of liquid gold. The gold wasn’t actually a liquid, but tiny gold flakes in water or something similar. It was perhaps even prettier this way, with the sparkle and reflection of the light.

But she had a mission.

She’d been shown photos of the Prince. He didn’t seem to be here yet, but some individuals were hard to identify under the marks, skimp as they were. But the gossip hadn’t mentioned his arrival yet, so it was likely he wasn’t here. Shopkeeper had mentioned how some made a big deal over entrances and wouldn’t arrive till most of the guests were already there.
One man, however, she recognized. Blackbell was a familiar name to her. Anya was friends with their daughter, Becky. Of course, she did not approach them. It was important that no one could connect her with the ball and later, the crime scene.

Her good friend, Melinda Desmond, was entering now, she saw. A purple dress with a black lace overlay marked her as a aristocrat. It was unfortunate she had to lay low. She did like Melinda, and it would nice to be able to talk to her.

Looking past Melinda, her mouth parted slowly as she stared at the man who had just entered.

His hair seemed to glow, his face a smiling masterpiece behind his frail blue mask, waving slightly with a white gloved hand.

He was here.

The man she would kill.

Yor stared at his face, perfect as it grinned and laughed at everything he was told as he was swamped with adoring fans and friends.

This might he harder than she thought. How would she get close to him if he had so many people crowding him?

Time seemed to slow to a crawl as he glanced over and caught her eye. His movements slowed, his mouth gaping as he stared at her, and then he shook his head and snapped his jaw shut as time caught up to them and he turned his attention away.

She’d never been one to attract much notice. Only her husband, Loid, had really even noticed her humble presence.
Maybe all it took was a nice dress.

Over the next few minutes, she would feel his stare. Every time she looked over, however, he looked away.

But one time he did not look away, instead approaching her and offering his hand for the dance.

It was perfect. How fortunate of the man to come to her. 

“Impossible,” he muttered.

“Hmm?”

“I cannot believe that I have never met such a beautiful woman before. Pray tell me, what is your name?”

“Y—Ella. Ella Cinders. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Yor stumbled over her words, nearly supplying her own name in her haste. Silly that such a man could pull her out of her wits, and on a job, too.

“Ella…” he repeated softly, his eyes narrowing slightly behind his mask as he lifted her hands to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss on her glove. “A pleasure.”

Then the expression was gone, smoothed over with a soft smile.

The smile reminded her of his husband. Loid would probably fit right in here with his diplomatic manner. But he was far away from here, at the Berlint hospital. A much safer place for him to be than here. Hopefully his work was going better than hers.

“And yours, good sir?” Yor said instead.

She knew it, already, of course. Thorn Princess was equipped with all of the necessary information about her victims.
A prince and a princess. How fitting.

“Phillip Charmin.” He said, brushing a stray hair from his face.

“Mr. Charmin.” She smiled back, before glancing towards the dance floor, hoping to send a message. She wasn’t very good at subtleties, but maybe…?
“You, Miss Ella, may call me Phillip. Now, shall we dance?”

And dance they did.

Yor was grateful for the few times she’d danced with Loid. They’d been drunk (well, she had) and it was in the living room with Anya and Franky laughing at them, but she had an idea of the steps. Loid was a far better leader than this man, in her opinion. Loid wouldn’t let her step on his toes. Of course, The Prince was graceful and glided across the floor but she doubted even he could dance well drunk. Loid was special in that way.

But he was a good dancer, and for that Yor was grateful. She could manage to keep from looking entirely foolish with so great a leader.

If Loid was here, they could dance. She would like that, Yor thought. Almost a pity they couldn’t be here together on a happier occasion.

Their conversation was dull, merely inane chatter intended only to ease the silence. Yor couldn’t think of anything she wanted to talk about, especially with a man she intended to kill.
Not even his good dancing skills could save him. Yor was death itself. 

“What brings you here this evening, m’lady?” The Prince murmured. 

“My…work.” Yor said, a smile on her face. It was a warning smile, but The Prince didn’t seem to be aware of this. For all of his social graces he was making a big blunder.
“Ah, I see. Are you someone’s escort? A diplomat, perhaps?”

It was funny that he should guess her cover story. Maybe that was a clue that it was a good cover story? “Indeed.”

“I was unaware that there were any diplomats present. I will be sure to greet them later. Are they around?” The Prince twisted his head to look around, and Yor felt her blood chill. Was he on to her?
The dance was nearly over. Yor had to think of something, fast. As the last strains played, she forced herself to smile yet again. Her mouth would be sore by the end of this evening. “Would you like to take a stroll in the garden? I find it is quite stuffy in here.”

If he stepped into the garden that man would be dead.

Yor was eager for that unavoidable moment.

“No, I’m afraid that I must remain here. I have some business I must attend to with a man I see right now. And I find myself quite parched.” The Prince smiled down at her before removing his hand from her waist. She’d barely even noticed its presence.

“Ah. In that case, I will bring you a drink.”

“There is no need—”

“I insist.” She smiled demurely, tilting her head down.

The Prince studied her. “Very well.”

Yor scurried off, headed for the drink table with an idea in her head and a small flask of unlabeled liquid pressed up against her thigh.

Twilight hadn’t meant to give in to his temptation to dance with Yor. Nor had he meant to let her bring him a drink. It was not that he thought she would poison him, only that he had seen no sign of the killer and was worried that all the drinks might be. 

But Yor was kind, too good for this world, surely. He would not refuse her this.

He was, however, quite curious about her presence at the ball. Why was she here? Where was this so called diplomat?

The more and more he heard, the more and more he was confused. Twilight knew every detail about this ball. There was no ‘Yor’ on the guest list. And Yor didn’t even call herself such. Ella Cinders. That name, he’d seen. Clearly her presence here was planned.

It was Yor, he knew that much. He’d recognize his own wife anywhere.

Perhaps there was more than her than meets the eye. Why had she treated him with such interest? Yor would never cheat, he knew that. But…

The answers his thoughts gave were answers he did not like. 

“Here, My Lord.” Yor said as she slipped the glass into his hand.

Twilight stared unseeing into her eyes as he lifted the glass to his lips. He really was thirsty. He’d been prepared to not consume anything the entire evening, but it was still remarkably unpleasant.
The drink only made him more, more confused.

Far more confused. And not in a normal way.

He stared in horror at the drink, his vision fuzzy. “Yor?” he croaked. He practically keeled over, falling to his knees.

Yor took his hand, an eeire smile on her face. “Shall we dance?”

Twilight could not resist.

Chapter Text

Twilight was panicking as his wife pulled him to his feet. Normally the action would be met with less contempt but currently Twilight had to face the fact that his wife had just given him a glass of bubbly.

And inside the bubbly was something that made him entirely witless.

And as he stared into his wife’s face, he was ashamed to say he hardly recognized her.

The expression. The determination. The emotions he’s seen countless times.

Countless times on the face of killers.

It was impossible. It couldn’t be her. But as Yor linked their arms, smiling as she led them towards the garden, Twilight couldn’t doubt it.

It became less of a thought and more of a certainty when she pulled out a blade.

Twilight was barely moving. Barely thinking. He gritted his teeth, trying to pull himself in order. He couldn’t die like this. Not at his wife’s hands. Not after being stupid. Not like this. He’d chosen Yor for a mission. And clearly she’d chosen him for hers.

When she threw the dagger, it was all Twilight could do to roll out of the way. The panic and the adrenaline urged him to his senses somewhat, and he noticed two figures racing outside.

“Go!” he yelled, shooing them off. “I’m fine!”

He was not, in fact, fine, but he certainly wasn’t going to let others die for his mistakes.

After a brief second of hesitation, the figures ran away.

“May I…” Yor said, cocking her head to the side as she spoke. Her words were pretty. He had chosen a pretty wife…. “Have the honor of taking your life?”
A strong one, too. In some other circumstance…

Twilight started giggling, slightly. His stupid thoughts. His stupid sluggish body.

He, a spy. His wife, an assassin. All was left for his daughter to possess superpowers and his dog to know how to read. They truly were some fake family.
His muscles complained as he tried to coerce them in to moving. He needed to stand. Stand stand stand stand stand!!!

“You, my lady, are welcome to everything.” Twilight laughed again, holding his arms wide open as if coming in for a hug.

When Yo pulled a stiletto out of thin air, perhaps, he didn’t see where, he lunged.

Oh crap. That hurt.

The wound barely registered, but the blood running down his pant leg and ruining his suit did. Such a pity… his perfect masquerade, ruined.

Maybe this would be more of a fight than he thought.

Yor’s kicks had always been unnaturally strong. It appeared she had been holding back this entire time.

His head throbbed painfully. His thoughts were in perhaps more of a disarray now, but they couldn’t get much worse. His chin was swelling.

"You,” his wife said, “Are a very bad man.”

It was true. Twilight was not the man Yor intended those words for, but he felt them.

Everything he’d ever done, every one he’d ever killed, was catching up to him. In the form of his wife.

How lovely.

Twilight pulled out his gun and fired.

She dodged.

Bloody hell. How fast was she?! All those times she’d cut through a tennis ball and he hadn’t noticed a single damn thing different about her. Some spy he was.

Yor swept forward, approaching like the wind. He stumbled to the side, ducking a blow. He wouldn’t last for long, not against this goddess of doom.
He twisted, the knife scraping his face but not his internal organs. Twilight ran, falling. She was almost upon him.

Twilight only had one card left to play.

He played it.

“May I have the honor of explaining something?” he asked.

Yor, who had been rapidly approaching him with a weapon still soaked with his blood, paused. “You may.”

Twilight slowly reached his hand up to his face, and pulled off the mask.