Chapter Text
The first time she had said it to him was at the castle.
After her acceptance into Eden despite their truly dismal interview. After her refusal to accept any other reward than being treated like a princess in need of rescue. After her adamance that he should dress up like Bondman of all people (he still doesn’t understand her obsession with the show). After she had promised to work hard in Eden.
“I love you, Papa.”
I love you.
Such a fickle statement.
Twilight wasn’t too proud to admit that, at one point in his life, he would’ve done anything to hear that phrase. But now? He had come to realize that it too was another saying in the long list of cliche nothings that people whispered to one another.
Twilight, of all people, knew how easily it could be said. How simple and unrefined it was. He had borne witness to — even been guilty of — how one could say, “I love you”, in one breath and stab the “loved” with the very next.
Yet, when she said it? It suddenly felt different.
Stunned for a second, Loid responded, “You what?”
“I love you, Papa,” she simply repeated. She looked at him with her bright, green eyes.
In the roughly two weeks they had been living together, she had tried tricking him on many an occasion with her particular brand of puppy dog eyes. So he knew very well that the genuine, innocent look she had right now meant she had meant what she said.
And that’s what baffled him. It couldn’t have been more than two weeks. How could she say such a thing with such confidence?
He could only assume it was because, at the tender, old age of 6, she had already lived a difficult life. That for a child such as herself, the barest amounts of kindness shown by him was enough to convince her that he was a good man.
He couldn’t stop the small, dry laugh that escaped him.
“Really now? What’s there to love about me, Anya?”
She lowered her head and looked out over the balcony, pondering far too hard over a question like the one he had asked. At least, far too hard for a six-year-old. Once she had finally found the answer to his question, her head shot up again to look at him.
“Because you buy Anya peanuts!” she exclaimed. Another laugh escaped him, this one surprisingly more genuine.
“Really, that’s all?”
“No! Papa also buys Anya clothes and food and toy-let-trees.”
“Toiletries, Anya.”
“Yeah that! And it’s also because Papa gave Anya a house and because Papa saved Anya from the bad guys,” she leans closer, eyes brighter and more genuine than even he thought they could be, “And even though Papa makes Anya study, Papa is still nice. So, why wouldn’t Anya love Papa?”
If he was stunned before, he was left speechless now. There was a conviction in her words that he couldn’t possibly understand.
Because, contrary to what others might think, Twilight never took any pleasure in manipulating other people’s feelings. Never took pleasure in saying those meaningless “I love you’s” to his targets. Because, at the end of the day, even though it may mean nothing when he says it, he found that most people did mean it, futile statement or not.
At the end of the day, he was not a kind or nice man. At best, he was maybe matter-of-fact, but nice?
What nice man does the things a spy does? What nice man kills like he does? What nice man callously and coldly throws away people when they’re done being useful? What nice man lies this much?
Yet, in spite of all that, a lie is the last thing he wants to tell right now.
“I…I hope I can continue to live up to that, Anya.”