A/N: What's up y'all I read Chapter 96 then sat down and wrote this in three hours. Please forgive any choppiness and lack of polish.
It was nearly 10pm when Martha, Becky's minder, brought Anya home. Loid himself had only been home for about an hour, leaving the party soon after Anya had danced with Damian. Since the goal was completed successfully, Loid didn't feel like his hidden presence was necessary any longer. Yor had welcomed him home from his 'emergency house call' and together they'd chatted and read in the living room while waiting for their daughter to come home.
Together, the Forger family thanked Martha and bid her goodnight and shut the door behind her.
"So, Anya, did you have fun?" Loid asked. She gave him one of those unnerving soul-piercing looks of hers, as if she knew he'd been there. As quickly as it came, the look disappeared and Anya was back to normal.
"Anya had so much fun, but she wishes Mama and Papa were there too," she said. "Anya could have danced with Papa instead of Sy-on boy."
"Aww, I wish we could have gone too! Maybe another party will come up and we can all go together!" Yor replied brightly. "I know you worked so hard learning how to dance from your Papa, it's a shame we couldn't see it."
"You danced with Damian Desmond?" Loid asked, as if he hadn't seen it for himself. She really did do a good job, though. The two of them danced reasonably well together, though a lot of the credit has to go to Damian for leading with skill.
"Yeah," Anya yawned.
"You must be exhausted. Why don't you get ready for bed?" Yor suggested.
"No, wait! I wanna dance with Papa!" Anya protested.
"Huh? You want to dance with me?" Loid asked, surprised by his daughter as he always was. I can never guess what she's thinking.
"Yeah! Because Anya is dressed up like a princess, like episode 14 of Spy Wars, when Bondman and Princess Honey dance at the ball, and- and-" in her tired state, Anya was quickly getting upset. Loid needed to act fast to avoid a meltdown.
"Alright, alright," Loid said. One dance wouldn't hurt. He went to the radio and turned it on, tuning it to a classical music station. Then he turned and held out his hand. "May I have this dance, my lady?"
She put her chubby little hand in his. "It would be my pweasure, sir."
He tried bending down to meet her at her level, just like they did when he was teaching her, but quickly found it was too difficult for them both. Their size difference was simply too great, and Anya was getting even clumsier than usual with exhaustion. Giving it up as a lost cause, Loid picked her up and settled her in his right arm, extending her tiny hand out in his left. He began a simple waltz with textbook precision, Anya giggling delightedly in his arms as they twirled around the living room to the crackling music from the radio.
When the song ended, Loid placed her on the floor and bent formally to kiss the back of her hand. Anya grabbed her dress in her other hand and performed a shaky curtsey.
"Well done, both of you! You looked like a real princess, Anya!" Yor said from her place on the couch. Bond borfed in approval.
"Thank you, Mama," Anya said, barely managing to get it out before her jaw cracked in a huge yawn. Loid huffed a fond laugh.
"I think it's time for the belle of the ball to get ready for bed," he said. He started the bath water while Yor helped Anya take down her hair and undo the tiny buttons down the back of her dress. He grabbed some pajamas from her dresser and set them on the vanity before leaving her to her bath. Loid retreated to the living room to read his book while Yor took Bond out to pee one last time before bed.
About twenty minutes later, Anya emerged from the bathroom, pajamas on and hair still dripping with water.
"Oh, Anya! You'll catch a cold like that! Come here, I'll dry your hair for you," Yor said. Loid grabbed a towel and Anya's hairbrush from the bathroom as Yor put the little girl in her lap. "Oh, thank you Loid," she said when he handed them to her. As Yor carefully dried and brushed her hair, Anya told them both about the party in increasingly incomprehensible fashion as she got more drowsy. Even Loid, who had secretly been there, was confused by her recounting of events, but Yor nodded along as if it all made sense.
Finally, Anya told them everything she wanted to say, and Loid knew it was time for bed. He stood up, Yor following suit with Anya in her arms.
"Did you brush your teeth?" Loid asked.
"Uh-huh," Anya replied, rubbing her eyes.
"Good girl," he said. He opened the door to her bedroom and held it open for Yor, and she gently deposited their daughter into bed. Yor gave her a kiss on the head.
"Goodnight, Anya. Sweet dreams" she whispered.
"G'night Mama," Anya whispered back. As Yor stepped back, Loid wrestled the sheets from under the girl and tucked her in snugly.
"Goodnight, Anya," he said softly, grabbing Mr. Chimera and putting him in his daughter's waiting arms. She curled around the plushie immediately.
"Night, Papa," she mumbled, already half asleep. Loid brushed a lock of hair out of her face, letting his hand linger on her head for a moment longer than necessary, then he turned out the lamp and left the room, stopping to pat Bond on the head as he went. Yor was waiting for him out in the hall when he came out, shutting the door behind him softly.
"She really wore herself out, didn't she?" Yor said with a chuckle.
Loid laughed softly as well. "She really did." The random obstacle course probably has a lot to do with it.
Yor looked at the grandfather clock in the living room. "I know it's late, but would you like some tea before bed?"
"I would. Thank you, Yor." As Yor went to the kitchen, Loid sat in his usual chair in the living room, picking up his book from the coffee table. Minutes passed as he read, listening to the comforting and familiar sounds of tea making behind him. Finally, Yor approached with the tea tray and their usual cups. She poured for them both and they sat together quietly, enjoying the hot beverage. When Loid looked up from his cup, he noticed Yor had a strange expression on her face. Fond, but wistful. He set his cup down.
"What's on your mind, Yor?" She startled a little when he addressed her, a blush coloring her face.
"Oh, nothing really. I was just thinking, watching you dance tonight… I can imagine the two of you on her wedding day!" She said.
Loid's eyes widen in surprise and a faint blush prickles his cheeks. "Anya's wedding…"
He can imagine it, too. A lovely young woman with pink hair and bright green eyes wearing a white dress, one delicate hand on his shoulder and one resting in his left hand. Her veil flutters around her head and her dress flares out as they twirl on graceful feet.
Something builds up in his chest, fills his lungs. It's oppressive in its strength and makes breathing difficult, though his training allows him to keep his breathing even so as not to alert Yor.
"Of course, she's so little, that's a long way off!" Yor said, seemingly oblivious to his internal turmoil.
Twilight closes his eyes and tamps the feeling down, though he keeps a small gentle smile on his face. "You're right. That day is a long way away."
"You're so protective of her, it'll take someone special for you to allow her to get married!" Yor says with a laugh. Loid chuckles and says something about how no man could ever be good enough for his little girl, just as any typical father would. But Twilight's thoughts are in overdrive as always.
Assuming she gets married in her 20s, that's at least 15-20 years from now. The current timeline estimate for Operation Strix is four years, at the most. Relations between East and West are so tenuous, we have to establish a connection with Desmond as soon as reasonably possible. 15 years? The mission cannot afford to go on for that long. War would break out long before that. If that happened, Anya would lose any chance to have a peaceful life and a happy marriage.
He takes a sip of tea to combat the cold emptiness in his stomach. Him? Walking an older Anya down the aisle of a church on her wedding day? That's not something he can afford to wait for. Not for his fake daughter, not at the expense of his mission. With limbs that feel disconnected from himself, he sets his cup down and turns to listen to his fake wife talk about a future he can't be around for.
That day will never come.
A/N: Since I'm the author, I have decided that Loid /will/ be at Anya's wedding. Because he's her papa forever and ever. Thanks for reading 3