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If she could choose, Yor would elect to be Thorn Princess a vast majority of the time. Maybe not always, but Thorn Princess feels so much more capable, like a completely different person than Yor sometimes. She moves with grace and confidence. The way she carries herself is so different that Yor wouldn’t believe that it’s her if she didn’t remember being Thorn Princess.
There are moments where the lines blur, where she feels two parts of herself combining into one person, but it is a rare phenomenon. Increasingly less so, but it is certainly not common.
Right now, Yor does not feel like either. Neither part of her wants to be at the surface, neither part of her wants to be in control, neither part of her knows what to do.
Not when she is holding a blade to her husband’s throat.
It was supposed to be an easy job. And it was. Yor did not know every detail, of course, but Shopkeeper had told her enough. There is an informant, he had said, someone smuggling information over the border. Someone who must be stopped, and Thorn Princess is the person to stop him.
Of course Yor had said yes. The fragile, unstable peace she had been protecting since childhood could so easily tip and shatter. Just one man could ruin it all, so just one woman would have to stop him.
Yor had left with the excuse of Camilla needing help with something. Her black dress had been hidden under a sweater and long coat, blades tucked away enough to not possibly stab through the fabric. Loid also had to go, he had to help a colleague at the hospital, so they had both left kisses on the top of Anya's head and said goodbye as Franky grumbled about babysitting.
Maybe Yor could do something for him to make up for all the days Franky has been babysitter. She should make something. A casserole! Or... Yor could buy the ingredients, and maybe Loid could make it.
There was a bit of a chill in the air as the faux-couple left their apartment. Yor tucked herself further into her coat, awed by how unflappable Loid seemed as he smiled at her. It warmed her from the inside of her chest out to her fingertips, skin tingling as she sheepishly smiled back.
“I’ll see you tonight, Loid,” Yor had said with a small wave.
He chuckled and waved back. “I’ll see you tonight, Yor.”
Yor watched blue eyes crinkle with that grin she had been living with for months.
Now those same blue eyes are wide with surprise, an expression Yor is sure she mirrors. Her gold blade is at the side of Loid’s throat, the other hand wrapped tightly enough around Loid’s arm that she can almost feel bruises blossoming beneath her fingertips. He has a gun under her chin, cool metal pressing firmly against the sensitive skin. She feels it when she swallows.
Yor’s mind spins, enough that she almost feels dizzy. Loid is supposed to be at the hospital. He’s supposed to be safe and warm, chatting with his coworkers and helping people. He is a doctor whose colleagues needed help.
Loid Forger is pinned against a wall. There’s a bit of blood spatter on his trousers. Yor wonders if her sick is going to join it.
He has Loid’s face, but he somehow looks so… different. There is something more confident in his stance, his hair is styled in a way Yor has rarely seen. Worst, there is a coldness in his eyes behind the shock, something Yor has never seen in her husband.
Has this been here the whole time? Has she really never noticed any of it?
“Yor?” Loid asks, voice slightly choked. Yor isn’t sure if it’s from surprise or from when she’d landed a hit against his throat. His windpipe is probably injured. Her fingers twitch where she holds him.
“What are you doing here?” Yor asks, begs. There has to be a reason that Loid is here. “I thought- The hospital-”
“You’re supposed to be with Camilla,” Loid cuts her off. His free hand is against the wall, as though ready to push off. He wouldn’t be able to, not without killing himself on Thorn Princess’ blades, but maybe he could. Yor is quickly realizing she doesn’t know what he is capable of. She doesn’t know anything about her husband.
“What are you doing here?” Yor asks again. She can hear the desperation. It soaks through her voice like a dishtowel dropped in the sink. “You aren’t supposed to be here.”
Loid slowly lowers the gun. He doesn’t blink, and neither does Yor. Despite her throat being free from the cool muzzle, she still cannot really breathe.
“Put the knife down, Yor.” Loid sounds just as unflappable as always. Somehow, he has lost that bit of surprise that Yor had seen just seconds ago. “Let’s talk.”
“Answer my question, Loid.”
Her blade presses closer. She knows that she could kill him now, but could she really?
“I’m working.”
A nonanswer. Yor knows it’s a nonanswer. Still, part of her wants to take it at face value, leave Loid be, pretend this never happened so they can go back to their fake happy life.
“Loid.”
He winces. Loid Forger winces when Yor says his name. It is enough to make her take a step back, releasing him even as her fingers curl tighter around her blade for fear of Loid seeing how her hands shake.
“Tell me what is going on.” Yor insists. Her voice catches at the end, and her next word stumbles out like a beg. “Please.”
There is something there, on Loid’s face. Yor can see it. She’s been living with him for months, sharing a home and life. Raising a daughter. For all she does not know, Yor can see the flash across Loid’s face. She can see that he wants to tell her, if only for that split second.
Yor cannot expect Loid to love her, it seems she cannot even expect him to trust her, but she knows that part of him wants to talk to her.
“Just let me finish this,” Loid says, “then we can talk. I promise.”
She shouldn’t believe him. There is every reason to crush every gram of trust beneath her heel, stab through it with a meticulously-sharpened blade.
Yor, however, is an idiot.
“I- I need to know one thing, first. Just one thing.”
“What do you need to know?”
“You aren’t- you aren’t taking information, are you? Smuggling it to Westalis?”
Loid smiles, and maybe Yor is every bit the fool she has been called by countless others, but she thinks it is genuine.
“It seems we may be here to stop the same person.”
Relief soothes the vines that had been tangled through Yor’s ribcage, allowing her a short exhale.
“You’re not pushing us toward another war,” Yor says, mostly a confirmation to herself. Still, Loid shakes his head, that small, gentle smile still on his face.
“I do what I do to prevent another war. Everything I do is to make sure no child ever has a reason to cry again.”
It’s the answer of a father. It is everything Yor would have expected, would have hoped for from her husband. It is Loid, just as she has always known him, through and through.
“Okay,” she says, straightening her back. Thorn Princess is not fully back, but certainly more than a few moments ago. “Well, I wish you luck on your mission. I still have mine to complete, so I suppose we will see who succeeds first.”
Loid’s eyes narrow, but Yor can see the hint of mirth inside of them. “I suppose we will. I will see you at home, Mrs. Forger.”
“You as well, Mr. Forger.”
One last glance, and Thorn Princess has disappeared back into the shadows, the spy she is married to ducking behind the wall.
Yor knows this could mean the worst; she could lose everything she has worked so hard to keep hold of. Somehow, though, she thinks this may just work out. The conversation tonight will be complicated, but when has anything in her life not been?