By: TooniverseTraveler
Loid Forger stood at the edge of the chalet's balcony, his gloved hands gripping the cold wooden railing as he surveyed the view. The mountain peaks stretched endlessly into the horizon, covered in thick blankets of snow that glistened under the pale winter sun. The air was crisp, biting, and clean, a stark contrast to the smog-filled city streets of Berlint. The idea of a brief family vacation had seemed like a good one—an excuse to maintain the facade of a loving, doting father and husband while keeping his cover intact. But Loid Forger wasn't on this trip just for relaxation.
Twilight—the man behind the perfect smile and gentle eyes—never truly rested.
His thoughts were always in motion, spinning layers of contingency plans and potential threats, evaluating the environment as though every tree, every gust of wind, held some hidden danger. Even now, on what appeared to be a peaceful family getaway to a secluded ski resort, his mind was on the mission. Peace between Westalis and Ostania was as fragile as the icicles hanging from the eaves, and he couldn't afford to let his guard down.
Behind him, the chalet's door creaked open, the sound muffled by the snow. He didn't need to turn around to know it was Yor. He'd memorized the subtle nuances of her movements by now—her footfalls, the way she carried herself. Her footsteps were light, almost imperceptible, which was curious for a civil servant who worked for City Hall. But then again, there had always been something curious about his wife.
Yor Forger—sweet, soft-spoken, and endearingly awkward—was nothing like the terrifying assassin known as the Thorn Princess. But Loid had no way of knowing the truth.
"Loid," Yor's voice was gentle but slightly hesitant, as if she feared she might be interrupting him. "Anya's settling in well. She's enjoying the cartoons at the inn."
He turned, offering her his practiced smile, the one that never faltered. "That's great to hear. She deserves a bit of rest." He paused, his gaze sweeping over Yor's bundled-up form, her scarf wrapped tightly around her neck. "How about you? Are you ready to hit the slopes?"
Yor nodded, though there was a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. "I've... never been skiing before, but I'll do my best!"
Her hands fidgeted with the edge of her scarf, and Loid couldn't help but notice the way she carried herself—a strange mix of confidence and anxiety, as though she were simultaneously a novice and a warrior. It was a puzzling contradiction, one he had yet to fully understand. But then again, he didn't need to. This was just another assignment, after all. And Yor, like himself, had her own secrets.
As the two of them stepped out into the biting cold, their breath visible in the frigid air, Loid glanced at the distant peaks. Something about this place didn't sit right with him. Perhaps it was his instinct as a spy, honed from years of covert missions, but he couldn't shake the feeling that the pristine beauty of the mountain was hiding something far more dangerous beneath the surface.
They reached the base of the ski lift, a small group of other vacationers ahead of them, laughing and chatting as they prepared to enjoy their day on the slopes. Loid's gaze flickered between them, scanning for any signs of suspicious activity. It was automatic now—a reflex to constantly evaluate his surroundings. Everything and everyone was a potential threat until proven otherwise.
Yor, meanwhile, was concentrating on getting into her skis, her movements a little clumsy as she tried to balance on the unfamiliar equipment. Loid bent down to help her, his fingers brushing against hers as he adjusted the bindings. For a brief moment, their eyes met, and something unspoken passed between them—something warm, even in the cold.
"Thank you, Loid," Yor said softly, her cheeks slightly flushed, whether from the cold or something else, Loid couldn't tell.
He stood up, brushing the snow off his gloves. "Just relax. We'll take it easy for the first run."
They ascended the mountain in silence, the ski lift creaking beneath them as they rose higher into the icy sky. The view was breathtaking, the landscape stretching out below them like an endless sea of white. But Loid's attention was focused elsewhere. His mind was already calculating potential escape routes, areas of cover, should things go wrong.
As they reached the top, the wind picked up, biting through their clothes with an intensity that made Yor shiver despite the thick layers she wore. She glanced nervously down the slope. "It's... a little steeper than I thought."
Loid chuckled, trying to ease the tension. "Don't worry. Just follow my lead."
They set off slowly, Loid guiding her with gentle movements, his posture as perfect and precise on skis as it was in everything else. Yor, despite her initial wobbliness, quickly found her balance, her natural grace taking over. But the wind was picking up, and the sky was beginning to darken, thick clouds rolling in from the distance.
Halfway down the slope, the storm hit.
It came suddenly, without warning—a blast of icy wind and snow that blotted out the sky and turned the world into a swirling vortex of white. Visibility dropped to almost nothing, and Loid could feel the temperature plummet.
"Yor!" he called out, his voice barely audible over the howling wind.
She was just a few feet away, but the storm was closing in fast. The other skiers had already disappeared, their silhouettes swallowed by the snow. Loid's heart pounded in his chest, not from fear—Twilight didn't fear—but from the sudden unpredictability of the situation. This was not part of the plan.
He skied closer to her, reaching out to grab her arm. "We need to find shelter, now."
Yor nodded, her face pale but determined. They angled their skis toward a nearby stand of trees, hoping to find some cover from the wind. But the storm was relentless, the wind biting through their clothes and making it hard to see more than a few feet in any direction.
Loid's mind raced. The chalet was too far now. They wouldn't make it back before the storm overtook them completely. His eyes scanned the landscape, searching for any sign of shelter, but the snow-covered expanse was unyielding.
"We have to keep moving," Loid said, his voice tight with urgency.
Yor followed, her movements more hesitant now as the cold began to take its toll. The wind was cutting through her clothes like knives, and her hands were starting to go numb. They trudged forward, the snow growing deeper with each step, until—
"There!" Loid pointed through the swirling snow, barely able to make out the outline of a small cabin, half-buried in the snowdrifts.
They stumbled toward it, their bodies aching from the cold, and pushed through the heavy snow until they reached the door. Loid kicked it open, and they stumbled inside, the sudden warmth of the shelter a shocking contrast to the brutal cold outside.
Thank you! I'll continue from where we left off:
The cabin was small and dark, a single room with bare walls and a stone fireplace that hadn't seen use in years. Dust coated the rough-hewn furniture, and the cold had seeped in through the cracks in the walls, but it was shelter—a far cry from the storm raging outside. The wind howled like a wounded animal, shaking the shutters and rattling the door, but for now, they were safe.
Loid quickly moved to inspect the cabin. His spy instincts were in overdrive, scanning for any potential threats, escape routes, or resources. It was second nature to him, even now, when the most pressing danger was the cold. He found an old stack of firewood beside the hearth and began to arrange it methodically, pulling a lighter from his pocket to coax a flame into the dry tinder.
Yor stood by the door, her breath coming in shallow gasps as she tried to shake the snow from her clothes. Her hands were trembling slightly, and Loid noticed the way she held her arms close to her chest, trying to preserve what little warmth she had left. Her face was pale, her usually vibrant eyes dulled by the cold, but there was still that steely determination in her posture—the same quiet strength that had always intrigued him.
"You should come closer to the fire," Loid said, his voice calm and controlled despite the situation. He crouched by the hearth, coaxing the small flame into a steady blaze.
Yor hesitated for a moment, then nodded, her movements slower than usual as she shuffled toward the warmth. She sat down on the floor near the fire, holding her hands out toward the heat, her fingers still trembling from the cold.
"Are you okay?" Loid asked, his eyes briefly scanning her for any signs of injury. His mind was running through a checklist of potential dangers: frostbite, hypothermia, shock. He couldn't afford to let anything happen to her. Not here. Not now.
"I'll be fine," Yor replied, her voice a little softer than usual. "Just... a little cold."
Loid nodded, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer than necessary before he returned his focus to the fire. The flames crackled, filling the cabin with a soft, warm glow, but it did little to chase away the growing tension in the air.
The storm outside was intensifying. Wind howled against the walls, and snow piled up rapidly against the windows, sealing them into their temporary sanctuary. It would be hours, maybe even days, before they could leave. For now, they were trapped.
"We'll have to wait out the storm," Loid said, his voice steady as ever. "There's enough wood to keep the fire going for a while, and the cabin's insulated enough to keep us warm."
Yor nodded again, but she didn't say anything. She was staring into the fire, her expression distant, as though she was lost in thought. Loid could almost see the gears turning in her mind, though he had no way of knowing what she was truly thinking. She had always been an enigma to him, a puzzle he hadn't quite solved. The perfect wife, the perfect mother—but there was something more beneath the surface. Something he had yet to uncover.
For now, though, his focus had to be on survival.
Loid stood up, removing his outer coat and draping it over a nearby chair to dry. His suit was damp, the fabric stiff with cold, but it was nothing he couldn't handle. He glanced over at Yor, who was still shivering slightly, despite her proximity to the fire.
"You're going to need to get out of those wet clothes," Loid said, his voice matter-of-fact. "You'll get hypothermia if you stay like that."
Yor blinked, as if snapping out of a trance. "O-oh, right." She glanced down at her soaked clothes, her expression flustered. "I didn't realize how cold I was."
She stood up, moving toward the small bed in the corner of the cabin. There wasn't much privacy, but that didn't seem to bother her. Yor had always been practical—unfazed by things that would make most people uncomfortable. She quickly began to strip off her outer layers, hanging her coat and scarf on the back of a chair to dry.
Loid turned his attention away, giving her space as he gathered more wood for the fire. He wasn't sure why he felt a sudden tightness in his chest. This was just another mission—just another situation he had to manage. And yet, something about the intimacy of the moment made his usual control feel more precarious.
Yor sat back down near the fire, now dressed in just a light undershirt and pants. She still shivered, despite the warmth of the flames, and Loid could see the goosebumps rising on her skin.
"You're still too cold," he said, his voice firm. "Come closer to the fire."
She hesitated for a moment, glancing at him as if weighing her options. But then she scooted closer, her knees nearly touching the edge of the hearth. The warmth of the fire washed over her, but it still wasn't enough.
Loid sighed. He knew what needed to be done, but the thought of it was... complicated. This was his wife—his pretend wife, but still, the boundaries of their roles had always been carefully maintained. Physical closeness had been limited to what was necessary for the cover, never more.
But survival didn't care about boundaries.
He moved toward her, sitting down beside her, his body close enough to share warmth. "You're still losing heat," he said, his voice low but calm. "The best way to stay warm is to share body heat."
Yor looked at him, her eyes wide for a moment, before she nodded. "I understand."
She shifted closer, her shoulder brushing against his. Loid could feel the tension in her body, the way her muscles were still trembling from the cold, but she didn't pull away. He wrapped an arm around her, drawing her closer to his chest, his movements careful and controlled.
It was strange, holding her like this. In their day-to-day lives, they maintained a careful distance, playing their roles without ever crossing the line. But now, with the storm raging outside and the cold pressing in on them, that distance was gone.
Yor's body was still cold, but he could feel her beginning to relax against him, her breathing evening out as the warmth began to seep in. For a moment, they sat in silence, the crackling of the fire the only sound in the cabin.
Loid's mind was already running through the next steps. They would need to ration their supplies, keep the fire going, and maintain their strength until the storm passed. It was a simple enough plan, but the situation was far from simple. There was too much he didn't know—about the storm, about the mission... about Yor.
He glanced down at her, her head resting lightly against his shoulder. She seemed so vulnerable like this, so different from the strong, capable woman he had married—no, pretended to marry. But even in this moment of closeness, there was something about her that remained untouchable. As though she, too, was wearing a mask.
What was she hiding? And more importantly, why did it matter to him?
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