I guess it was about time to try and write one of the sewer rats. Content Warning for: Mentions of assassination and angst.
Yuri has killed many a man in his short life, but he's never hesitated.
Bernadetta looks peaceful in her sleep, her round little face for once at ease. All she ever does is frown, her brow furrowed, until he shows up.
"Bernie's very first friend," she'd said to him recently. Yuri very nearly laughs at that, fucking the mission up before it even starts.
Some friend he is, he thinks. Friends don't take jobs with dubious intent, and they certainly don't befriend young noble girls with the express intention of gaining trust. They don't sneak into their rooms a night with a knife held aloft, standing over their bed as they consider the best way to end their life.
Friends, do, however, give pause before doing such a thing. Weigh the outcomes and wonder if it's worth such a thing.
Dear, sweet Bernadetta whose only crime was to be born with a crest. She doesn't deserve this, thinks Yuri. He's made a mistake in becoming her friend.
Yuri doesn't wear hesitation well. His hand shakes more than it has ever before as he tries to harden his resolve.
He has to do this, as much as he doesn't want it. There's money at risk, and at worst, his life. These aren't the kind of people that you mess about with. You don't just not do the job you've been hired for.
For the first time, though, that's exactly what he considers. Watches Bernadetta's soft little face and listens to the soft coo of her steady breaths.
"Ridiculous," he murmurs, "Utterly ridiculous." How he's been reduced to a young man with feelings, pesky little things that make his job nigh impossible.
He leans forward, his knife gleaming. Then the blade stops just before her neck.
"For fuck's sake," he curses as he pulls back. Grips at his hair. Rethinks everything through and remembers his steps.
Get into House Varley. Befriend the skittish child. Kill the said child. Return home and reap the benefits.
Yuri's done worse things, far worse things that are truly despicable in nature- worse than offing a child who, realistically, might even welcome it were she asked.
So, why is it so difficult?
Yuri isn't sure that he has friends, but he's had companions. Confidantes. Those that he can somewhat trust if he keeps one eye on them at all times. Bernadetta is the first kid he's ever had to babysit, practically raising her up over the last few months.
She's sweet and kind in her own, weird little way. She'd embroidered a terrifying plant onto a handkerchief and presented it to him, and instead of throwing out the gift like he does most, it's folded and tucked away into his pocket, close to his heart.
He wonders his this is what caring feels like. It's been so long since he'd last done so that he's almost forgotten what it feels like.
Yuri hesitates too long. The Count bursts into the room at the worst possible time. Only moments later he'd have found a mostly empty room, only his daughter tucked tightly into her sheets.
Instead, Yuri's found still looming over her with a knife brandished.
"It's a mistake," says Yuri, though he's unsure what he means.
A mistake that he couldn't bring himself to do it? Or a mistake that he's allowed himself to get caught? Either way brings its own kind of sweet release. Maybe this'll finally be the end for him.
Yuri's dragged off. Bernadetta sleeps tight in her covers.
And the most curious of all things, Yuri thinks that perhaps it might be worth it.