The Mouse and The Monarch

44

~MOUSE~

The interior of the plane felt like a frozen chamber, the biting cold seeping through every gap in her clothes.

The metallic walls radiated a bone-chilling cold, and Ophelia's breath hung in the air as she shivered.

The thin fabric of her hoodie offered little resistance against the relentless chill.

Her fingers, exposed to the merciless temperature, danced across her arms in a feeble attempt to generate warmth.

The subtle sound of teeth chattering resonated in the frigid air.

She was not bred for cold, and the man next to her seemed adamant to throw her into it.

Her eyes, framed by dark lashes, darted around the cabin, searching for any source of warmth.

König, towering at her side, observed her discomfort with an intensity that seemed to cut through the freezing atmosphere.

His eyes, a deep shade of blue that mirrored the frosty landscape outside, followed every shiver that ran through her frame.

Without a word, he bent down, unzipped his duffel bag, and pulled out a grey hoodie.

Its fabric, thicker and more insulated, promised refuge from the cold.

He handed it to Ophelia, and she didn't argue.

She was too cold to refuse.

That and she wanted to wear his clothes.

With quick, trembling movements, she took it and pulled it over her head.

The hoodie enveloped her like a cocoon, letting the warmth and scent of the man beside her chase the cold away.

"Thanks," she said softly, her voice a whisper amidst the hum of the plane.

"Gern geschehen," he replied quietly, the words carrying a warmth that extended beyond the fabric of the hoodie.

He sat back in the chair, a large figure squeezed into a space much too small for him, yet his gaze remained fixed on her as if ensuring that she wasn't cold anymore.

The hum of the plane resonated through the cabin, occasionally interrupted by subtle dips and bumps, but Ophelia remained steadfast.

She actually liked air travel.

But it was more fun in a helicopter.

Especially when you fall out of the sky.

As the aircraft navigated through the icy currents of the high-altitude winds, Ophelia's eyes met König's, and a soft smile curved her lips.

He wasn't wearing his hood, obviously, otherwise, they never would have made it on the plane.

The scars on his face, a testament to battles caught the dim light of the cabin.

As Ophelia watched, a blush crept across those scarred features, a subtle vulnerability peeking through the cracks of his tough exterior.

König quickly looked away when she smiled at him, the pink tint harsh against his pale skin.

The contours of his scarred face softened as he focused on the map in front of them.

With a deliberate shift of focus, Ophelia's attention drifted to the map that lay open in front of her.

The paper, bearing intricate lines and symbols, unfolded a visual tapestry of unknown landscapes.

The folds in the paper crackled softly as she adjusted it on the small tray table.