“ so… breakfast? ” - mara x quinn :^)
The wind was still howling. It had howled all night, and now, after sun up, it showed no signs of quieting.
Of course, the only reason Mara suspected the sun had risen on Hoth was that her chronometer said it must have; their Imperial issue cold-weather shelter was packed in on all sides by snow, to say nothing of the roof. Still, it had held against the wind and the weight of the snow deposited by the blizzard. According to the last scans they’d received from Dorne Base, the storm should be passing them in the next hour or so.
She and Malavai were huddled together in two layers of insulating blankets, still fully clothed in their cold weather gear, and only just warm enough to avoid shivering. Or rather, she was warm enough to avoid shivering. Malavai, on the other hand, with his human cold tolerance, still shuddered against her periodically.
All things considered, it had not been an entirely unpleasant night. They had sufficient rations to survive for a week or more if necessary - an entirely unlikely event - and their transponder beacon was active and undamaged.
Besides, a little cold, wind, and danger could not possibly diminish the importance of the past twelve hours. She brushed Malavai’s hair back from his face, her touch almost reverent. How strange - and yet how mundane - to think she was looking at her future husband. What precisely made him ask when they were snowed in and bored out of their minds she could not say; but she was secure in her answer, and from his sense, knew he meant what he said in turn.
“Good morning,” Malavai mumbled into her hair, an arm tightening around her.
Mara smiled and kissed his cheek, wincing at how cold it was. She slipped her gloves off and pressed a hand to either side of his face.
“My poor Captain,” she murmured. “Perhaps it would have been kinder to leave you on the Fury.”
His gloved hands covered hers.
“This entire scenario is, of course, precisely the reason I worked so hard to avoid being stationed here.” His voice was muffled somewhat by her hands. “Still, it’s just as well it’s me enduring this with you. The others are no more cold hardy than I, and I am certain I enjoy the ordeal more than they.”
“I think Pierce would enjoy it more than you’d like,” Mara teased.
“Ah, but I know you wouldn’t be nearly as worried about letting him freeze,” Malavai replied, his tone matching hers. “And so the likelihood his enjoyment would be questionable at best.”
“Such jealousy,” Mara shook her head in mock disappointment.
Her face became serious. “You should have some breakfast; your body is working harder than mine to keep warm.”
“We should both have breakfast,” he corrected her.
She wiggled out of their shared cocoon, the cold air nipping at what little skin she had exposed, and reached for their pack.
“Which ration bar do you want?” She asked, her voice muffled as she rummaged through the bag. “The one that tastes like bantha dung, or the one that tastes like dirty socks?”
She glanced over her shoulder to find him studying her intently, his sense somewhere between awed and nervous.
“I feel as though I should have waited to ask you,” he said thoughtfully. “To wake up to something better than this on our first full day of betrothal.”
Mara smiled and slid back down into the blankets.
“This is our life, Malavai, and I know neither of us would trade it, no matter how bad the food. I’d rather have our engagement reflect who we truly are, rather than happen in some isolated, carefully arranged environment.”
He took the proffered ration bar, then leaned in to kiss her gently.
“Even now, there’s nowhere I would rather be than at your side. Even in six feet of snow and eating…” he looked at the wrapper. “Sweaty socks. Lovely.”
“That is a rare compliment.”
He looked up from the bar, his face utterly earnest.
“I mean every word.”