steph

Ifa:

You’re kicking around a ball with some of the kids from the tribe to enjoy the nice weather. It’s been storming the past few days so they were in their houses all day losing their minds. You told their parents you’d go play with them for a bit to get all the pent up energy out.

They mostly don’t pass you the ball which you’re completely fine with. Instead you just get to watch happily as they debate on what kind of game they want to play. It switches between kicking the ball, catch, or how long they can keep the ball in the air for.

You hear a noise from above you and you see the qucusaurus and riders flying above you. Shielding your eyes from the sun, you watch the pairs do tricks or race against another duo. It makes you think about how it’s been a while since you have ridden a qucusaurus.

“Mind if I steal you for something?” A deep voice whispers into your ear as a strong gloved arm wraps around you.

You lean into the hold, placing your hands on top of his arm, “Oh and what does my sweet boyfriend need help with?”

He squeezes you before letting go to stand beside you, “That qucusaurus I’ve been taking care of for the past few weeks is finally able to try flying again. As you know Cacucu won’t let me fly on any other qucusaurus so I was wondering if you’d do it? I will be right beside you the entire time,” he reassures you.

“I can do it!” You’ve done this for him a bunch of times before so you’re not really phased by it. You actually love doing it because you get to see first hand at all the work he has done to help saurians.

“Knew I could count on you.” He place a kiss on your cheek.

“Ifa!” The kids run up to the two of you.

“Hey partners,” he kneels down to be at their level, “I’m going to be taking her for a bit but we both will come back to play one we are done.”

“Promise!” A young girl holds out her pinky.

Ifa locks his pinky with hers, “Promise.”

You and Ifa then make your way up to the flying platform. You see Cacucu flying around the bigger qucusaurus saying, “What’s up bro?”

You shake your head and laugh at the whole situation as Ifa pushing Cacucu away. “Leave him alone bro.”

“Okay bro!”

You guide the healed qucusaurus to the edge before hoping on. You pat its side, “We will go at your speed. Take your time.”

It caws before flapping its wings to get ready. Once it feels comfortable it takes off into the air, they decide to fly straight up first before leveling out. As it keeps trying to get higher and higher you see their wings start to falter.

“You can level out now,” you rub its side.

They don’t listen to you which makes you start to panic, looking over at Ifa. As Ifa gets closer they panic and start to shake you off. You hold on the best you can but end off slipping off.

You feel the fast breeze at your neck and back as you plummet down towards the ground. You immediately close your eyes as you see everything past by in a blur. Panic raises inside of you.

Falling from your height will kill you. You don’t want to die. You still have so much you wanted to do and experience since the war has ended. Sadness washes over you as you realize you won’t be able to do all that you wanted.

While you were falling, Ifa did not hesitate for a second before flying after you. He already uses his vision to help Cacucu but right now he’s using it fully to guide his companion. He doesn’t care because all he is focused on is catching you.

As he gets closer to you he tries to reach out his arm to catch you but he’s always just a bit too far.

“Faster buddy!” Cacucu locks in and uses the power of anemo to go faster to finally catch you.

A strong arm wraps around your waist once again, “Hold onto me!”

Ifa.

You wrap your arms around his neck, burying your face into it as well. He holds you tightly as you two slowly float down onto the platform that you started on.

The entire time down he was whispering to comfort you, “I’m right here. I got you. You’re not falling anymore.”

His words helped but you were relieved once you were on solid ground. But your knees were shaking so much that you couldn’t stand when tour feet hit solid ground.

Ifa easily kneels down with you as others crowd you two. “She’s alright but can you all please give her space?”

You finally pull back from his neck and open your eyes. You see Ifa smiling at you, “There you are. You okay?”

“Yeah… how did you even catch me?”

Ifa flashes his vision, “Used this old thing to make Cacucu and I faster. Don’t tell him though, he thinks that was him.”

Looking around you don’t see Cacucu, “He went off to catch that qucusaurus with some others.” Ifa answers your unspoken question.

“Thank you Ifa. I- I was so scared.”

“I’ll always be there to catch you,” he brushes some hair behind your ear. “I’m sorry that this happened. They have never been that scared before so I don’t know what happened.”

“It’s not your fault.”

Ifa pushes back his hat so it lays against his back, “I feel like it is. I’m the one that put you up to this.”

“Yeah but I chose to do it. Plus you saved me so I think that’s a win.”

“You’re too good to me,” he leans in placing a kiss to your forehead. “Let’s go take a break back at my place.”

Now any time you go flying Ifa is always right by your side just in case to catch you.

Kazuha:

Kazuha stands behind you with him arms wrapped around your waist and his chin resting on your shoulder. “Looks like it will be quite the storm.”

“It looks doesn’t look nice.” The clouds are so dark that it makes it feel so ominous. You’ve been on the Crux just a little bit longer than Kazuha has been, yet neither of you have seen a storm this bad.

He closes his eyes to sense everything around him. Whenever he does this you know he’s trying to get an answer himself. You stay quietly still so you don’t mess with his concentration.

He opens his eyes slowly, “I feel like it will be an aggressive one.”

“I don’t doubt that. Why don’t you go talk with Beidou about it?”

“Good idea.” He kisses your cheek, “I’ll be back.”

Kazuha went to go discuss the storm on the horizon with Beidou leaving you to stand up at the viewpoint alone. Leaving you to look at the dark cloud along with the lightning in the distance. It looks like it’s going to be a bad one.

You look down at the crew that is running around the deck trying to move things from the deck to under the deck so materials don’t get wet, ruined, or blown away. Just as you’re about to head down you hear your name called out to you.

Looking down you see Kazuha, “I’ll be up in a few minutes to help with the sails. Captain Beidou wanted me to give a report first.”

You give him a thumbs up because the wind picked up which made the sails and the wood up here super loud making it close to impossible to hear you respond. He nods at your confirmation and goes around the deck talking to the others. Once he got the answers he needed he walks up to where Beidou now stands looking off to the right of the ship to see uneasy waves.

The wind hits you harder making you think you should just adjust the sails yourself so Kazuha wouldn’t have to fight the wind to get back up here. Your thought is confirmed once a crew mate yells up to you to hurry with the sails because the storm should hit any second now.

You start with the right side first and adjust the sail so it wouldn’t be easily pushed around once the storm hits. Pulling tightly on the strings, you adjust the sail just how Beidou taught you the first time there was a storm. It’s easier when there is two people but luckily she taught you how to do it if you are by yourself.

Once the sail is positioned correctly you roll your shoulders before doing the left side. You saved this once for last just because this side is a bit more stiff than the right side. Maybe you should have done this side first so you could have more time but no point in dwelling on it now.

You pull the string as tightly as you can but it doesn’t budge at all. Groaning and trying to pull it again with even more strength, it doesn’t work at all.

“Darn it.”

As you go to pull it again a massive wave hits the right side of the boat making it lean to the left. Which makes you fall out of the viewpoint, holding tightly onto the rope still. But apparently that seems to be the full weight the old sail needed because now you crash into the viewpoint.

The crew mate that told you to do the sails yelled your name even louder this time making Beidou and Kazuha turn their heads to see you dangling.

You rub your head after that brutal run in with the viewpoint. You don’t realize now you have a loose grip on the rope and can barely hold on with the weather conditions. As another wave crashes into the boat, your grip falters having you start to fall down.

Kazuha was already on the move once he realized you were barely hanging on. He jumps up super high so as you started to fall he catches you easily before using his anemo powers to land you two safely.

It all happened so fast that you barely even really know what happened. All you really know is that you’re in Kazuha’s arms and he blocks out the now pouring rain with his back to prevent it from hitting your face.

Clutching his haori tightly you breathe heavily before uttering, “Thank you.”

“I should have helped you earlier. I’m sorry.”

You ignore his words and pull him into an embrace. He stiffens for a few moments before adjusting his hold on you to return your embrace.

“You helped me when it was necessary. I’d rather you save me than help me with a random task.”

“Are you two alright?” Beidou comes running over.

Kazuha looks over your shoulder, resting his chin on it, “Yeah. We are alright.”

“That’s sweet. But let’s get inside so you two aren’t drenched anymore.”

Kazuha pulls back first, standing up holding a hand out to you, “After you, my lady.”

He guides you to your shared room to change before meeting the rest of the crew to ride out the storm. The crew frantically asks if you’re okay and apologizing for not sending anyone up to help you. You wave them off and tell them at you’re okay and glad no one had gotten hurt from the storm.

Drinks and food are passed around to try and have everyone not worry about the raging storm. You lean against Kazuha, struggling to keep your eyes open. He smiles lightly before draping his haori over you to keep you warm.

The rest of the night Kazuha holds onto you tightly because he doesn’t want to ever see you fall again. He is not losing someone who he cares for deeply again.

Varka:

Hiking the mountains of Nod Krai are no joke. A lot of them are very high along with being very uneven and jagged. Sadly the small team Varka took out has to hike this mountain to get back to camp.

The group has to travel in a single line to get through this part of the mountain. Varka leads with two people between him and you then three people behind you. This team went out to go check some threats that came up. It ended up just being treasure hoarders which was an easy fight but that doesn’t mean you all aren’t very tired now.

“Grandmaster, how much longer?” One of the newer knights in front of you ask.

“Come on show some spirit, you are a knight after all!”

“Yes but we’ve been hiking through this mountain for most of the day.”

He pulls out a map, looking over it carefully. “Based on this map Mika gave me, we should be finished before sundown.”

The knights’ shoulders sag. Making you giggle a bit. Varka knew taking many new knights on this mini journey would bring up a lot of complaining.

Varka looks over his shoulder smirking, “What’s so funny?”

You hold your hand over your chest, “Oh Grandmaster I’m surprised you’re able to still function since you haven’t had alcohol in a few days. Are you doing okay?”

He lightly glares, “I can function- whoa…” looking down at his feet he see part of the thin path crumble. Instantly becoming focused, “Step over the area lightly. Don’t put any extra pressure.”

The group nods as each Varka starts. Stepping over lightly, taking a couple step forwards so the next one can do the same. She’s a bit wobbly but ends up crossing over without messing up the path.

The knight that was complaining is now going. He’s shaking quite aggressively and is super hesitant with stepping. Putting his foot out, he tries to take a step before pulling it back and taking a few breaths. He does that a couple more times before ending up jumping across instead of taking a step.

He starts to stumble because the path is breaking again, without thinking you dash forward pushing him so he’s at solid ground. But that leaves you to take the fall instead of him.

“Shoot-“ you try and grab the edge but are too far. Making you continue to fall down the mountain.

“Stay straight ahead on this path, it will lead you to the camp!” Varka then jumps down using anemo to quicken his speed.

Trying to stop yourself the best you can doesn’t work because you end up cutting open both of your hand with the rocks and gravel. It stings so you try to slow yourself with your legs. Placing your feet flat on the mountain doesn’t slow your speed, instead you end up pushing yourself off the mountain so you’re align with it. Now you’re truly free falling.

That doesn’t last long because two strong arms wrap around you, pulling you into a warm chest. Varka plants his feet on the mountain and takes another giant leap to be able to land on the ground that is now visible.

“Oh my archons-“ you wrap yourself around your strong but crazy boyfriend.

He holds you tightly as he braces himself to land. Varka’s armor clanks as he hits the ground with a loud thud.

“I think that was an A+ landing if I do say so myself.”

“Never did I think when I saw you jump around with your anemo vision, I would be flying down a mountain with you.” Leaning your forehead on his chest, “Thank you…”

Varka plops onto the ground, adjusting your position so you face him. He looks you over to see no injuries until he looks down at his clothes to see red. He knows that’s not his so he grabs your hands to see them ripped up.

He hangs his head, “I was too late to stop you from getting hurt.”

Removing one of your hands from his you tilt up his chin and kiss softly. He immediately returns the kiss, putting his hands on your waist to pull you closer.

You break the kiss only for him to chase your lips. You push his chin back lightly with a laugh, “I wouldn’t have lived if it wasn’t for you. Thank you Varka.”

He hugs you tightly, “Guess I gotta thank Barbatos next time I see him.”

- Illuga would HATE to see you pass out on duty. He wants to keep everyone safe, not slowly kill them.

- He would stay with you the whole night to just make sure youre actually asleep. (I think he would lowk double check.)

- Since Illuga cares about the other things you lack, he would definitley make you a snack or something along with a bottle of water to help you wake up in the morning.

- When you see him again he will ask you if you had a good sleep or if you saw the things he left out for you the night before.

- Illuga would treat you to breakfast because he knows the simple snack and water won't keep you together for long.

(Hes so sweet omg- 😭)

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Flins - Lack of Water

- If you guys dont really talk that much, he would hear of the situation from Illuga.

- Flins would instantly think that Illuga wouldve already taken care of the situation, but he still cares.

- He doesn't seem like the person that would make such grand gestures, so he would simply make sure you have enough water to make it through the day.

- Flins has noticed that water is crucial to human survival so he thinks that since you haven't drunken any, you might die or pass out because of it.

- So Flins makes sure you stay hydrated for a couple weeks. If he sees youre doing better, he'll stop worrying.

- I would think that the fact he gave you water everyday would make you and him friends.

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Kinich - Starvation

- Kinich would find out because Ajaw took in your appearance and would call you out on it.

- Since Kinich is a Saurian Hunter, he usually just eats fruit or meat. You on the other hand hasnt eaten at all.

- He would shut up Ajaw in some way before simply helping you.

- Kinich would either buy you food, or give you some of his that he's saved over the past couple days.

- He would make sure that you eat so you dont pass out on him if you were only pretending to eat. He still has work after all.

- Ajaw would probably still be teasing you or bickering with Kinich about how he shouldve just left you behind or something.

"The more chance of fatality, the better!" -K'uhul Ajaw

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This was my first time making headcanons so please enjoy! I hope you liked it! Sorry if it was too ooc if it was.

And by the way, you're sure that reading your to-do list for tomorrow and taking care of it shouldn't bother him that much, right? He loves you anyway.

Of course, you'd pay him back so he wouldn't get bored of you. Posing infront of your mirror—that you know very well has camera in it. Asking him which one you should wear for an event tomorrow—it was the first time you gave him a hint(?) that you knew about him, even though you're sure he wasn't trying to hide it, but who cares because you woke up with a 'the blue one looks pretty bun :)' note, some matching necklaces and bracelet beside it as you smirked. So predictable.

From that day, you and stalker!Lohen weren't strangers anymore but more like a long distance unofficial relationship, it was fun having him do things for you but you really wanted to see what he looked like.

So you thought about a plan.

The sun had long since set, the cold night wind entered through your open bedroom window—at this hour, the streets were almost empty and the night guards were already in position, however, it's never too late for Lohen to come and see you, his pretty bunny.

He liked visiting during the night, because not only because you look so at peace in your slumber—but also because you wouldn't know who he was, for no reason in particular, he just wanted you to look for him, for who he was.

While quietly going down the window, his eyes would first settle on your sleeping form, his smile warm and genuine. "As adorable as ever, bunny," he would whisper, pushing a strand aside before turning back to look at your room.

From the mirror he thought he oh-so-subtly placed a camera in, to the notes you still left for him—that he made sure to check before leaving, then they stopped on a rabbit plushie—that he knows he did not gift you.

Frowning he stepped toward it before picking it up, examining it closely and gripping it tight. "You have 'nother secret admirer bun? Thought I was your only one hm—" his disappointed mumbles got cut off as the rabbit bunny suddenly started speaking—in an all too familiar voice.

"* inaudible sounds*—hm, hiiii! How have you been little stalker? I've hoped that we meet someday, you know⸺" lohen's eyes widenned when he realized that you left a message for him, he could practically see your cute little pout while recording this part. " *inaudible sounds* knew about you for sooo lonng and you never showed up, you're so mean! But it's fine, as your 'lover' I'll let it go⸺" he lost his composure as soon as he regained it, your voice was so captivating, the effect he had left a trail of proof from his red cheeks to somewhere down there hardening. "But, I'd like it if we could meet y'know? So instead of listening to my voice and getting flustered by it—you little pervert— you should cuddle with me tonight, hm?⸺" and just like that, your voice recording ended, instead replaced by the soothing sounds of the crickets outside and the rumbles of your fan.

After regaining his senses, Lohen had a smug look on his face, putting the rabbit back in its place before looking at you and crossing his arms. "Replacing the plushie's voice box with your voice knowing that I'd get flustered—who is the pervert between us bun." He muttered with a smirk before shrugging. "Whatever, I don't need to hide now so I thank your twisted mind."

Everything was going according to your plan, him coming in your room, finding the rabbit and listening to it—and now, you had him laying beside you on your bed, his arms around you as you poked his cheeks. Just how Lucky were you that your lovely stalker was none other that the Vice-captain of the fifth company himself—he really had one of the prettiest face in Mondstadt.

"Checking me out this early and you claim that I'm the pervert?" Lohen suddenly spoke, halting your poking as he brought your hands to his lips and placing a kiss on your knuckles. "You look even more pretty in the morning bun."

"Well good morning stalker!" You beamed, arms lazily resting on his shoulder as your head cradled his chest, eyes looking up at him with mischief. "Or is it vice-captain?"

"How about calling me by a loving petname bun, you were so mean for leading me on y'know that?" He brought his forehead to yours, smiling at your giggling face. "Should change your nickname, a bunny can't be this mischievous."

"Dun know what you're talking about," sat up, hands going through your disheveled hair—and Lohen somehow still found that part of you adorable because why is he looking at you like that. "Would've told you to make breakfast but since my stalker is a oh-so-important figure, his pretty girlfriend will just have to do it for him, hm?"

"Ooh, will I be the one getting spoiled this time?" He raised an eyebrow before sitting up himself.

"Don't get used to it."

"Then I guess that it'll be a shame if I don't enjoy every moment of it bun, let me help you."

And so began you guys's first morning—as an official couple.

Shame(?) darling, the long awaited moment happened, the stalker got to you. You lose the game . . .

but the chances of that happening were becoming thinner and more unrealistic by the very second. the scoreboard was not displaying a result, which would fulfill that wish, and with wishes of a last-minute goal sitting right on your tongue, you had a sneaky suspicion that you wouldn’t be getting that last-minute goal after all. yet, they didn’t give up. despite a result that was looking more and more grim, the boys clad in green and white were still chasing that ball with vigor and determination, not wanting to lose so miserably. just yesterday, lohen and his team from mondstadt had been eliminated due to a bad game. liyue and its star players were eliminated during their match with mondstadt. 

kinich and his natlanese team were the only ones left with a member of the renowned fc millhaven, the club currently sitting at the top of all leaderboards as they had for years now. whenever they played for their club, they had a set formation and set plans in place for whenever things weren’t going their way. lohen may be their captain, but kinich ran that offensive formation with an ironclad attitude. his quick thinking and rapid pace always shaped the nature of their attack, determining who’d be making the shot or how they’d counterattack. but at fc millhaven, there were silent communications and procedures in place. no words needed to be exchanged, for one single glance would be enough to keep every player in the loop, directing a flawless performance and marvelous win. 

fc millhaven was a historic club. football in teyvat was birthed in mondstadt, especially in smaller villages surrounding the main city, as children needed something to do. as the sport became more popular and more people joined in, an official committee was formed, and football as a sport was born. the first few clubs began appearing around mondstadt, then liyue, and then further beyond the borders. with clear rules set in place, it began a household sport in schools all over teyvat, and would go on to become the most popular sport in the entirety of teyvat. but fc millhaven was truly an iconic club, for it was the first club to win all the forming leagues with its array of powerful and unique players, all from mondstadt. 

however, it was legends like varka, venti, crepus, and more whose sheer success and love for the game had taken fc millhaven to new and unexplored heights, truly cementing the club as a historic and dominating club. they won every game they partook in, never losing once, as they dominated the leagues. there was no ego struggle for them, working perfectly in sync in their respective positions to become the legends they were today. varka was their club’s head manager and also the head coach of the national mondstadt team.

but the level they played at now had not been the standard. after the golden generation of fc millhaven retired from playing professionally, taking time off before they began their coaching and managerial roles across the many clubs of teyvat, the management of fc millhaven had made a series of poor decisions. they were scarfing in players, who they assumed would thrive, but ended up assembling a squad of ill-fitting players. the previously prosperous and unbeaten club became a shell of its previous glory, losing more than it would win and never once bringing back a trophy. 

your eyes followed kinich as he leapt across the pitch, his streaked hair dripping with sweat and exhaustion, as he tackled the player. without missing a beat, he kicked his own leg out and slid across the grass, perfectly executing a tackle as the ball went off the pitch, preventing another goal from the opposite team. but the very second he got back onto his feet, you saw the blank look he afforded his defenders, who came running over to apologize but to no avail. as kinich would’ve said, there is no point in apologizing now. do better next time. 

with a declining club and player frustrations becoming breaking news every week, sparking real and genuine concerns about the state of one of the most iconic and historic clubs in the world, varka returned. you remembered the day you’d read the title of that article, shrugging to yourself but not really caring—after all, back then football wasn’t of any interest to you, really. you were a regular college student, attending the akademiya, just trying to graduate in time and embark on your own journey. 

“please, please, please,” you begged to whatever higher power above who could hear you, hands clasped together in front of you as you followed the players with your eyes. “let them get another goal.” 

but the clock was ticking down, and there was simply no denying that if the boys did not score a goal within the next few seconds, they would also lose. and with mualani by your side, a hand gently rubbing circles into your back as she watched nervously, your nerves weren’t calming down at all. not seeing as your boyfriend once more took off running towards the goal, signaling for the ball only for his teammate to make a bad attempt at a goal kick. the ball flew off the pitch, and just as players rushed out to grab it, the whistle went and cheers erupted all across the stadium. 

natlan had lost. 

and perhaps it was the nervousness coursing through your veins or the feeling you shared with your friends, saddened to once again see natlan fail to advance. the tingling in your legs from standing for so long finally caught up, and thus, you simply sat back down again, as did everyone else. the other team's fans were rightfully elated, cheering and celebrating from the very top of their lungs as they waved flags, banners, and more. your friends were murmuring around you, verbalizing their disappointment, and even you had to lean back, sighing as you voiced your own frustration. 

on the pitch, the players were doing their usual rounds of wishing each other well and displaying good sportsmanship. well, that was until you saw someone approach ororon and apparently say something jarring enough that he took a step back, an expression of hurt overcoming his features. the mood in the stadium took a turn when people began noticing the bad sportsmanship on the pitch, particularly from the winning team. ifa came running out of nowhere, pushing ororon behind him and confronting the other players, but as expected, his own teammates also came to join. people were shoving each other, clearly getting into unnecessary and uncomfortable situations, and everyone watched with bated breaths. 

“what is happening?” kachina seemed frightened at the display, covering her mouth in disbelief. 

you couldn’t even believe it yourself. ifa was still shielding ororon whose eyes had seemingly glazed over and other members of the natlanese team were also standing there, pushing back against the other players whose hands were moving as fast as their mouths were. their captain was too busy standing by with a smirk on his face, clearly amused to see everyone fighting. your lips turned downwards as you witnessed it all, feeling a sense of annoyance grow in your stomach. those players hadn’t even bothered to play fairly during the game, and now they were starting conflicts? 

“men being idiots,” xilonen chimed in from behind. “just because a loser becomes a winner doesn’t mean they lose that loser attitude.”

citlali was already being held down by xilonen, hands pinning her to the seat, whilst she kept trying to jump. a blaze was burning in her eyes, and her mouth was going at the absolute fastest speed, yelling insults and threats down to the other players. after all, ororon was someone who she’d taken care of for his entire life, acting as sort of a parental figure to the boy. there would never come a day when ororon would be the target of someone’s misdirected hatred and citlali wouldn’t lose her mind. 

“enough.” a voice broke the stalemate down on the pitch, gathering everyone’s attention despite not being any louder than its usual tone. your eyes caught wind of kinich and you let out a sigh of relief, knowing your boyfriend had this one covered. he’d come to stand before ifa, now standing in front of all his teammates as he glanced at the opposing team. “let’s go,” he directed his teammates, and without another word, without any hesitation, every single player followed after him as he walked off the pitch with his head held high. not a single word hollered after them by the other team got a reaction, and it was obvious to anyone and everyone that they were downright fuming at how kinich had shut it down and led his team away. 

he had always been like that, especially in conflicts, and it warmed your heart to see his hand land on ororon’s shoulder, providing silent support and wordlessly telling ororon that he knew it wasn’t his fault. many assumed kinich to be heartless or nonchalant merely because he did not speak much, because he didn’t celebrate his goals, and because he never got into public spats. but his guidance had led the natlanese national team further than they’d ever gone before, bringing them all the way to the final. even if they lost the teyvat cup, even if they did become runner-ups rather than winners, he’d led the charge by walking out with his head held high, and the others followed. 

the winning team continued their celebration of running around, waiting for the stage to be set up and the officials to enter. your talks with the women you came with revolved around the other nations, discussing how the others had done and silently celebrating that it was kinich’s teammate lohen who’d be winning the award for most goals scored, rather than the second most scoring player whose very name made you feel annoyed. lohen was kinich’s close friend and his daily captain back at their club, so you were happy that he’d take the second-most precious award home. once the winning stage was set up, both teams were summoned back, and you watched silently as the natlanese players went up and received their silver medals. seeing as lohen had won third place with his team just yesterday, earning a bronze medal, and gone back to mondstadt already, the golden boot was publicly announced to have been won by lohen, then given to kinich so he could take it back and give it to lohen. 

the natlanese players did not stick around to see more than just the trophy lift from the other team, displaying good sportsmanship by clapping for them and congratulating them, even if tensions from before were still present. kinich refused to be involved with their shenanigans, but he would never be a poor player, so once his duties as captain were done, he merely began walking towards the locker room, knowing his team would follow him like ducklings. it was quite amusing to see them walking behind him in a single-file line, silent but efficiently leaving the tournament and leaving behind all the bad vibes. yet you knew that the pain bubbling in kinich would continue spreading its hurt, settling into his chest. for kinich had truly and sincerely wanted to win this year, especially after seeing lohen’s message yesterday, and you know that if he didn’t say it outright, he was absolutely furious with the game they’d played tonight. 

none of you or your friends wanted to stick around to watch the celebrations, and perhaps that was poor of you, but having watched that match with your own eyes and seeing how brutal and rough that match was, you had no intention of watching them lift an undeserved trophy and celebrate an undeserved win. their antics upon the match’s conclusion, openly mocking natlanese fans and picking fights with players, further cemented the notion, so all of you girls filed out immediately and headed back down. your purse was swung around your shoulder, and you were dressed in a jersey with kinich’s number and name, carefully stepping down the stairs in your heels as xilonen held onto you. she’d opted to merely wear a natlan shirt with no name or number, as had both mualani and kachina, while citlali wore ororon’s jersey. mavuika was the newly appointed trainer for natlan, so she was most likely in the locker room, speaking with the boys. 

“let’s just wait here,” mualani suggested once you’d reached the doors to the locker room, having exchanged nods with the stadium’s security. “they should be out soon.” 

usually, you wouldn’t be permitted to be anywhere near this area. unlike kinich’s other two teammates, you two kept your relationship more so private, but not secret. there were many speculations that kinich was in a relationship, having been spotted out with you or seen with you after a game, but it had never been confirmed and thus remained a private affair. mavuika was a friend of all of yours, an iconic football player, and often renowned as the best player to ever come from natlan and one of the best players to have ever lived. she played in the golden days as well and became an icon in her own right, a woman with a golden personality and the skills to back up her title. she’d been adamant to the security about allowing all of you here, emphasizing your importance to the team’s players. 

the doors opened, and players poured out. most greeted you all politely despite being quite upset, with red rims around their eyes and hoods pulled far over their heads. you knew they weren’t in the mood to talk, and you simply could not blame them, nodding back supportively. you were able to give both ifa and ororon brief hugs, extending your condolences and checking up on ororon, who seemed less down than before. soon, they had all been dragged off with their respective partners or friends, and you were left on your own outside the doors. mavuika and the other staff members came out; the red-haired woman immediately pulling you into a big hug. 

“he’s still upset,” she whispered into your ear as she held you firmly in her arms, your own hands wrapped around her neck to steady yourself. “the president and refs came by to extend their condolences, but also to make it clear that no actions will be taken against the others.” 

your jaw dropped at this information. “what?” you muttered back in disbelief. “they were hitting the players throughout the entire game, tackling unnecessarily, and picking fights. they even tried to fight after the game!” 

“you know how it is,” mavuika stated with a sad smile, putting you back down but not letting go as she pulled back to stare down at you, running a hand over your hair. “but, i know kinich didn’t have an easy time bringing me in to take over, probably beating himself up about it right now. so i’m not done with this. they can keep the title, but i will demand a public apology.” she promised you with a blazing fire in her eyes and a determined smile on her lips. 

and if there was anyone to trust in this world, it was mavuika. the woman was a force to be reckoned with, unbeatable on the pitch and unyielding in her presence. 

an encouraging smile and an additional message were awarded to you by the taller woman before she left with her entourage, leaving you all alone in front of the doors. you knew kinich was probably sitting inside, staring blankly at the strategy board and pondering where they went wrong. he was a strategist at heart, perpetually searching for the most efficient and productive way to execute plays. 

kinich didn’t look up when you entered. he remained seated on the bench in the corner, his eyes scanning the board with meticulous determination and clenched fists. the green eyes with a diamond, orange on the bottom, resembling a gorgeous sunset, never once moved from the board, but you could see his tapping foot halt in its movement, as if his body instinctively dropped some of its tenseness from sensing you. your heels softly clicked along the floor as you approached him, placing your purse on the bench before taking a seat yourself. you stretched out your legs in front of you and placed your hand on your leg, resting with your palm facing the ceiling and wide open. 

when kinich was ready, he would seek comfort and companionship. it took a few more minutes of silence, with none of you moving an inch but simply sitting in a comfortable silence. kinich’s relentless clenching of his hands had ceased, and so had the tapping; instead, you could hear his labored breathing as his brain kept processing the information. your own fingers were tapping your exposed legs, scanning the locker room around you. and just as a few minutes had passed and your open palm remained open on your lap, you felt fingers sliding over your palm, intertwining with your own as kinich gripped your hand in his. as if moving on his own, his hand gently pulled your hand over to his own lap and flipped your hand around, indirectly pulling you closer to his own body. 

your legs were pressed together now, warmth mingling naturally as his thumb softly ran across your skin. a small smile spread across your lips, and you moved a little closer, letting your leg press further against his as he finally let out that sigh he’d been holding in. his head lowered to rest against your shoulder, slightly sweaty hair pressing against your skin as you raised a hand and gently wrapped it around his head, sliding your fingers into his hair. 

“we lost.” 

“you tried.” 

“not enough.” 

“your best is enough.” your fingers dug into his scalp ever so lightly, rendering him silent as you pressed a small kiss into his hair. “you can’t do it all alone, kinich, even if you’d like to.” 

the sigh he let out was deep enough to make you feel his body deflating ever so slightly into your side. kinich was an analyst, but he wasn’t anywhere near delusional or pointlessly ignorant. he was able to analyze why aspects of their own game had been poorly executed, taking the time to identify whatever mistakes had been made by his own team, and then also mentally assess what his opponents did, which was so effective against his own team. there was a reason he was captain of his team and why he was often seen as the vice captain over at fc millhaven, secondary only to lohen, who still often followed kinich’s style and directions for their play. 

you pushed yourself back to your feet once more, never once letting go of kinich’s hand but instead motioning for him to stand up as well, as he peered up at you in confusion. his hairband is off, no longer holding back his hair and letting it fall over his forehead as his dull eyes find yours. despite his tiredness and reluctance to stand up, he could never refuse you, especially not when you were gazing at him with so much love in your eyes and looking so pretty underneath the dim lights of the dressing room. so he merely pushed himself to his feet, squeezing your hand as you flashed him a grateful smile. 

“mav made a deal with the stadium to let us take a walk after everyone’s left,” you explained to kinich whose eyes widened at your words, surprised that you’d made it happen, seeing as you knew he loved to merely roam the stadium after a big match, no matter if it ended in a win or loss for him. “so let’s go walk around, whatcha say?”

kinich could feel that stone in his stomach becoming less heavy as you gazed up at him with reddened lips and those beautiful little wrinkles by your eyes when you smiled. his hand halted its movement in caressing yours; instead, his other hand came up to softly tuck a piece of hair behind your ear, your eyes closing to relish his warm touch on your skin. his hand cupped your face, thumb grazing over your ear and down to your cheekbone as you placed a small kiss against the palm of his hand. sometimes he truly wondered what his life would be without you, but he never entertained those thoughts for long, for there was no reality in which he would ever let go of you. 

your eyes never once faltered from staring up at his face, fingers tracing over his tanned skin as you let out a content sigh. but then without saying a word, kinich let go of your hand and instead let his hands fall to your shoulders, pressing you back down onto the bench. even when you tried to protest, to ask him what he was doing, his eyes merely flicked up to shoot you that look, the one that spelled out don’t ask, and you obeyed. once you were seated back onto the bench, he crouched down in front of you, one knee pressing against the floor to retain his balance while his hands pulled your ankle up to rest on his propped-up knee. deft fingers were already working on your heel straps, and you merely leaned back, grinning flushed at his habits. even now, his main concern remained you and your safety. he knew that you wouldn’t be able to walk across the pitch with your heels, the ones he’d bought you with his first paycheck and the ones that matched his eyes. 

the straps were tightened and wrapped around the expanse of your ankle and onto your leg, forming a zigzag pattern across your legs. small butterflies were sewn into the straps, small diamonds embedded within. the actual shoes were a narrow heel, also with the same strappy front with butterflies. the heels were a beautiful mixture of green and orange, one foot with a pretty green heel and a beautiful gradient into orange, whilst the other had an orange heel with a green gradient. they were a perfect match to the ring, sitting snugly around your finger, two stones embedded within further highlighting the sheer uniqueness of your boyfriend’s eyes. 

kinich’s eyes scanned your legs as he carefully unwrapped the straps from your legs, pressing his fingers into the skin and offering a soft massage to your legs from having been so tightly wrapped up. his hands wrapped around the bottom of your shoe, and the other supported the top of your foot, pulling the heels off with all the care in the world, placing both neatly by his own sneakers. he reached behind your head and picked up a pair of slippers, ones resembling the ones he was wearing himself, and slid those onto your feet. noticing the flush rushing into your cheeks and the way your teeth were sinking into the side of your bottom lip, he shook his head ever so slightly at how easily you became flustered and stood back up, pulling you with him. 

dating kinich was a whole new experience for you, for he truly fulfilled every requirement you had never even known you had. every single thing he did for you was tainted with his love for you, whether it was changing your shoes for you or leaving behind an apple for you to eat on your busy days. it had been a new experience for both of you at first, being in a relationship and being romantically involved with another person. it required many conversations about boundaries and needs, but it was all worth it. for even as kinich towered over you, his hand was so warm in yours, tracing over your fingers and nails with ease and care. 

the grass was slightly wet and squeaked loudly when stepped on. your hand was held firmly in kinich’s as the two of you casually roamed around the edges of the grass, the bright lights of the stadium now dimmed to let the darkness of the evening settle. the moon was beaming down upon you two, who wandered in silence. the advertising boards were turned off, sparing the pitch from those loud and obnoxious colors and pleas for consumers to be consumed by. all of the banners symbolizing the teyvat cup were gone, as were the banners showing off the two teams. the stadium had gone back to its regular state, yet within roamed two people whose minds were still on the previous events. 

“repeating their unfairness in the game won’t do us any favors,” kinich suddenly spoke out loud, keeping his eyes focused ahead of him. “because we still made mistakes, a lot of them. what did you notice when watching the game?

you nodded along to his words, humming. kinich often asked for your opinion on a matter as well, wanting to know what your take was. he liked to be able to resonate his own thoughts and experiences with those who’d also been through the same trial as himself, as well as someone who was merely observing. it gave him the different perspectives he required to settle the matter entirely, mentally planning to improve on those experiences. “the other players did play unfair. they should’ve been given yellow cards, especially when they pushed ifa. they also continuously tried to swipe yumi’s out from underneath him.” 

“what else?” 

“but,” you continued, keeping your eyes trained ahead to ensure you got through your list of observations as you noticed kinich’s eyes falling to the side of your face. “defense needs work, i think. they were too far away from the goal and didn’t have the speed or energy to make it back in time. you, ifa, ororon, and yumi shouldn’t be running back to make that save—the defenders should have that handled.”

kinich’s eyes fell to the grass, nodding along as you could almost see the gears turning in his head. “agreed. the speed isn’t there for some of them, particularly more than halfway into the game. what else did you notice?” 

you pursed your lips ever so slightly, thinking back to the game. some of it was beginning to become a blur in your mind, but you were doing your very hardest to remember anything you’d noticed during its course. but it was hard to pinpoint anything else, and when you relayed this to kinich, he gave you a soft but grateful nod, squeezing your hand in gratitude. your eyes never faltered from his face, letting him pull you along with him as he kept walking, mentally processing. 

suddenly kinich came to a halt, pulling you to stop with him as he turned to face you. his eyes had gotten softer, peering down at you with that glint of adoration he always had when facing you, and his other arm raised to wrap around your waist. with a small smile, you let go of his hand and reached up, wrapping your arms around his neck as both his arms linked around your waist. his eyes always became softer, more present, when they focused on you, and as his eyes traced every inch of your skin, you could feel his fingers curling into your jersey—the one carrying his name. his hair was blowing ever so slightly in the wind, and you couldn’t help but pull your hand back and tuck the strand away, running your hand over his forehead and pulling back his hair as his eyes fluttered shut. he let his head fall forward, forehead resting against your own as you pressed a small kiss into his nose, giggling at how it scrunched up right after. 

“i really wanted to win. i really wanted to hold that trophy and make natlan proud, make mavuika proud… to make you proud.” his voice was thick with emotion, eyes squeezing even more shut as he hissed in annoyance to himself. the sadness in his tone was apparent, but beneath it, you could hear that pang of sorrow. he was already mourning the loss of something he’d wished for with his entire heart, and you felt your own heart beating harder at how vulnerable he seemed in this very moment. 

kinich’s eyes flitted open upon feeling your fingers curl around his cheeks, pulling his face back up to hold his head high as your thumbs brushed across his eyebrows, then his cheeks. he was met with an intense glisten within your eyes, lips pulled into a heartfelt smile, as you blinked slowly at him. “i’m always proud of you, chi, always. you’re so hardworking, so genuine, so loving. i feel so lucky to call you my boyfriend, and no trophy could ever change that. there’ll always be another tournament, another trophy, whatever you want. and i know that you’ll achieve everything you’ve ever wished for, 'cause you deserve it all.” 

growing up had been a lonesome and grueling experience for kinich, who’d lost his mother at a young age and been left behind with his abusive father. running away from home hadn’t been easy, but he’d done it. and he’d spent years as a child, as a teenager, and as an adult learning what he wanted to do and fulfilling his own dreams. meeting you when he was an academy student and you were in your final year of university wasn’t his plan, but an unforeseen meeting would grant kinich the greatest blessing of his life. you were everything he never knew he needed but couldn’t live without. you always gave him the space he required, never once getting frustrated by his need to mentally process anything. your touch always calmed him down, tracing across his skin with such reverence, with all the love and care he’d never been granted before. he was never too much for you, too quiet or boring, never overly concerned or too wrapped up in his own head.

because you never ceased to remind him how much you adored him. despite working a demanding job yourself, you always tried your utmost to make it to all of his games or any events, which were important to him. you had made an effort to get along with his teammates and his friends, truly wanting to get to know the people whom he considered his closest. the two of you were so vastly different in how you processed situations, but there was room for both of you in this relationship. 

you slid your hair and pulled his head down to rest on your shoulder, swaying ever so slightly beneath the surface of the moon. his hands slid down the surface of your back and slid beneath your jersey, their warmth now warming up your skin as his fingers traced patterns over your skin. a soft sigh of contentment escaped your lips as a pair of lips pressed a gracious kiss into your shoulders, small kisses of gratitude landing all over your neck and shoulder. kinich wasn’t always a verbal man, struggling to say whatever was on his mind, but his actions always dripped with love for you. at the start of your relationship, the two of you had been careful with one another, understanding that you had vastly different responses to touch and comfort. but years down the line, and it was as if you knew each inside out, always able to read the other flawlessly. 

kinich’s hair tickled your shoulder, and you couldn’t help the small laugh bubbling out of your mouth, feeling his lips pull into a soft smile against your neck as he rubbed his hair against your skin. hands were pressing into his shoulders as you tried to move away, unable to contain your laughter from his hair tickling you, but kinich had you right where he wanted and thus kept his grip firm, peppering kisses all over your neck. steadily his lips moved upwards, no longer teasing you but instead letting you melt into his touch as his fingers continuously caressed your skin with tenderness. his lips began trailing upwards, and as they landed behind your ear, you let out a small gasp, fingers curling into his broad shoulders as you melted into his touch. 

“thank you for everything,” he murmured into your ear, his tone lower than usual, sending a shiver down your spine as he pressed deeper kisses into your ear and the tender area behind. his one hand slid back to hold your hip in his as he leaned back, sliding his other hand up to gently run his thumb over your glistening lower lip whilst his fingers curled around your cheek. “for being here.” 

“for you, i’ll do anything,” you whispered back in that same tone, uttering the same words he’d told you the day he finally confessed his feelings to you in the middle of your living room. 

kinich’s eyes melted once more at your words, shimmering beneath the moon’s rays as he pressed a light kiss to your lips, letting out a content sigh, and pressing another into the corner of your mouth. no more words were exchanged, but you didn’t need to, for as kinich wrapped his hand around yours once more and began leading you off the pitch, he knew that no trophy or accolade could ever measure up to the safety of holding you in his arms and the blessing of your touch on his skin.

════════════════

The glow of the monitoring screens bathed the room in a pale light. Dottore stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his posture relaxed as he stared at the primary console.

From the shadows near the doorway, a figure stepped forward, the soft rustle of heavy silk and the quiet clink of rings cutting through the low sounds of the machinery. Pantalone adjusted the dark lapels of his coat, a thin and mocking smile playing on his lips.

"And the Prince?" Pantalone asked, his voice smooth, carrying the weight of a man who measured the world in assets and liabilities.

"Definitely curious," Dottore chuckled, a soft, dry sound. "My scouts report he has spent the last two days reviewing the boundary reports. I am quite sure he is eager to figure out our motives."

Dottore turned from the monitors, a cruel and satisfied smile playing behind his mask.

"His birthday ball in Nod Krai will be the perfect stage," he continued, adjusting his gloves. "With the Prince so thoroughly distracted by all of the shining bachelorettes, our agents will have free rein to bypass the palace's inner security."

Pantalone did not join in the Doctor's amusement. He stepped closer, the lenses of his spectacles catching the pale blue glare of the monitors.

"Well, I would not underestimate the target," Pantalone noted, his tone light but pointed. "We are treating this kingdom like a minor variable, yet our scouts report anomalous energy readings near their borders— an undocumented power, I’d assume. If there is an asset hidden in their baseline, our little operational traps will burn to ash, along with my investment."

Dottore tilted his head, a quiet, mocking hum vibrating in his throat. He didn't dismiss the warning; if anything, the prospect seemed to genuinely delight him.

"Oh, I certainly hope so," Dottore murmured, his mask catching the blue light. "How dull it would be if they simply rolled over. If this sudden 'resurgence' has some real teeth left in it, let them burn the stage down. It would make the experiment infinitely more fascinating, don't you think?"

"And a ghost wearing a stolen title," Pantalone countered, his fingers tapping an impatient beat against his cane. "The foreign court calls him Prince, yet his name remains buried in our own archival ledgers. Kyryll Chudomirovich Flins. A remarkably youthful face for a name tied to old Snezhnayan nobility, let alone one that vanished for three blank years. The moment he stepped into the light seven years ago, he began handling foreign diplomacy with the exact statecraft of our own aristocracy. He didn't learn that in a wasteland, Dottore."

"He is an effective proxy, then," Dottore replied, his voice dropping into detachment. "A flawless piece of theater meant to keep us talking about borders and treaties as the real authority recovers from her... sudden departure from the Palace."

Pantalone’s eyes narrowed behind his spectacles. "The Damselette, yes. She has been back on Nod Krai soil for barely a month, and already the energy signatures are spiking. We let her power slip through our fingers, a power that is so absolute it cannot be easily replaced."

"A temporary displacement, indeed," Dottore sighed mockingly. "The natural order of this world is an insult to intellect, Pantalone. We are trapped by the limits of our birth, bound to whatever fragile parameters our bloodlines dictate. True power is left to the absolute whims of a cosmic lottery— reserved only for a rare species, an ancient lineage, or a statistical fluke."

He turned back to the flickering screens, his gloved fingers tracing a glowing data stream. "We are to use the ball to bypass the Prince's little theater entirely. I want the baseline data of that power while it settles. Once the mechanics are fully mapped, we will no longer be beholden to the lottery of birth— we will engineer a way to overcome the very limits of our bloodlines."

"See that you do," Pantalone murmured; he seemed to want to say more— but he held his tongue, gaze drifting across the peripheral displays. "Sandrone is already secure on the border sectors we've claimed from Nod Krai. But what of your little experiment with my old coworker? I noticed you did not fit her with a transmitter before she went out, as previously planned."

Dottore’s chuckle was quiet, intrigued.

"No, I have changed the hypothesis. Why ruin a perfectly good behavioral trial with a crude mechanical leash?" Dottore turned fully, gesturing with a gloved hand. "For years, she has known nothing but utility. So, I introduced a new variable. I treated her as an irreplaceable asset— offering her rest, validating her dedication. When a subject believes they are valued, their psychology shifts in the most amusing ways."

Dottore leaned slightly closer to Pantalone, his tone dripping with mocking amusement.

"She is currently acting out of a profound, desperate desire to protect the Fatui," Dottore noted, his tone entirely detached. "If she crosses paths with the Prince of her own accord, how will she react? Will she play the vulnerable, wounded bird as ordered, or will her training take hold? The sheer authenticity of her panic under those conditions is a variable we cannot wholly simulate."

Pantalone adjusted his glasses, a razor-thin smile returning to his face as he recalled the girl’s defensive posture from their past days in the lower cellars.

"I have watched her run your errands for four years, Dottore," He noted smoothly. "She is a creature of obedience. If you rot her discipline with your psychological meddling and she breaks under the Prince's insistence, you will have ruined one of the most reliable blades in your arsenal."

"Hm… You may look at her and see a tool with a fragile edge, Pantalone. Yet I see a subject who started with nothing," Dottore countered softly. "Like the rest of us, she was born bound to a baseline of human weakness. If she is ever to stand alongside us, a rigid, manufactured discipline is not enough. She must learn to forge a stronger mind entirely on her own."

He turned back to the primary console, the blue light catching the hard edge of his mask. "If this pressure forces her to grow, then she becomes something truly valuable. If she cracks and falls entirely to pieces... well, then she simply met her natural limit. The outcome is not in my hands, nor does it interest me. The true value lies in watching whether a mortal mind can rewrite its own boundaries when pushed to the absolute edge."

Pantalone let out a soft, humorless chuckle, the sound smooth but entirely devoid of warmth. "An expensive gamble. You may speak of potential and boundaries, but a broken blade is simply a deficit. I prefer my investments to remain intact, not shattered on the off-chance they might reform into something grander."

He adjusted his cuffs, his rings catching the terminal's glare one last time. "Let us hope she meets your expectations. Snezhnaya has enough fragile things; we have little use for another pile of discarded porcelain."

As Pantalone stepped away from the monitors, the heavy tension in his shoulders finally slackened, replaced by a familiar, restless craving. He reached into his breast pocket, pulling out a sleek, silver case. With elegant motions, he snapped it open, withdrew a dark cigarette, and struck a match.

The flame flared, illuminating the sharp, tired lines of his face before he inhaled deeply. A thick, sweet-and-bitter cloud of gray smoke bloomed between them, instantly filtering the clean scent of the laboratory.

Dottore didn't look up from his monitors, but a heavy sigh rattled in his chest. "Must you do that in here so shamelessly, Pantalone? I did not perform a flawless thoracic reconstruction and hand you a pair of better lungs just for you to line them with cheap tar."

Pantalone exhaled slowly, watching the smoke drift across the blue glow of the screens. His chest rose and fell smoothly— a perfect example of Dottore's own handiwork. A humorless smile touched the banker's lips.

"Consider it a quality assurance test, Doctor. Your craftsmanship is holding up beautifully." Pantalone tapped the ash onto the pristine metal floor, turned on his heel, and walked out, leaving the sweet scent to slowly dissolve into the dark.

Left alone, Dottore turned back to the screens, the pale blue light illuminating his mask. He stared at the empty, silent borderlands, a soft yet chilling laugh bubbling from his throat.

════════════════

The smell of burning cedar was the first thing that drifted through the fog.

She opened her eyes, immediately regretting the motion as a sharp, white-hot needle of pain drove straight through her left temple. She didn't move and mustered the last of her wits to let her training take over: Identify your surroundings, do not show signs of life just yet…

She was lying on a makeshift cot of dry pine boughs, insulated by a heavy, dark traveling cloak— his cloak. The air in the abandoned cabin was cold, but not freezing; a modest, carefully contained fire crackled in the ruined hearth, throwing long, amber shadows against the rotting timber. 

Still, she shivered.

Outside, the wind had risen to a howling roar. The storm had fully descended, plastering the windowpanes with sheets of white ice. 

"Ah. You're awake."

Damn it all.

The Prince was sitting on a three-legged stool near the hearth, peeling a winter apple with a silver pocketknife. The rough peasant’s coat was gone, leaving him in a high-collared, dark tunic that fit his shoulders perfectly. He looked entirely, annoyingly at ease, his posture possessing a quiet grace that didn't belong in a drafty, abandoned cabin.

"Don't sit up too quickly, Little Star," he added, not looking up from his task. "The timber of that doorframe was quite unforgiving, and you managed to hit it with an impressive amount of velocity."

She stared at the back of his head for a long second, letting out a faint, silent breath through her nose.

Well. That settled that.

The small, foolish part of her brain, the part that had tried to give him the benefit of the doubt just because he’d been polite, attentive, and soft-spoken, quietly packed its bags and left. She had known from the second he crossed her path that he was playing her, but his harmless, pleasant demeanor had made it entirely too easy to stay in denial.

Now, hearing that name fall so effortlessly from his lips, she couldn't even pretend anymore. He’d known exactly who— and what— she was from the very start.

The absolute nerve on this man.

For her sake, she ignored him and that pesky little nickname, bracing her palm against the floorboards to push herself up. The cabin tilted violently, the rafters performing a sickening loop. She let out a sharp, involuntary hiss, her hand flying to her temple. A clean linen bandage had been wrapped snugly around her head, smelling faintly of a cooling, herbal salve.

The Prince set the apple and the knife down on a clean cloth. He stood, his steps making barely a sound on the creaking floorboards, and approached her.

"I believe I specifically recommended not doing that," he said softly, kneeling beside her at a respectable distance.

"Well, I don't take recommendations from trespassers," she muttered, her voice raspy and dry. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to force her equilibrium to steady. "Where is my..."

"Your blade is on the table by the door. Entirely out of your reach, unless you plan on crawling there," he said smoothly, crossing his arms. He looked down at her with a mix of mild amusement and concern. "And I was hardly trespassing. Let us say that I was merely conducting a sovereign inspection of a joint trade sector when an overzealous shadow violently tackled me.”

Not again…

"A joint trade sector," she repeated, her tone flat. "In a peasant’s disguise and miles past your own area of the border. Do you think I lack common sense?"

The Prince chuckled gently. "Hardly, no. I would even say you are quite brilliant, which makes your current state of dishevelment all the more fascinating." He leaned a hip against the edge of a sturdy wooden table nearby, looking down at her. "Tell me... do the Fatui always run their assets so thoroughly ragged, or did you simply decide to starve yourself for the aesthetic?"

She stared at him, her brows furrowing beneath the bandage. Brilliant? They ran me ragged? The sheer audacity of the question made her want to laugh, or perhaps throw something at his perfectly composed face. Was he actually trying to gaslight her? After she had chased him through the snow on thirty-six hours of no sleep, he was talking to her as if she were a victim of poor scheduling.

"I am fine," she said, her voice dropping into a rigid, defensive register. "My duties require... discipline."

"Discipline is a polite word for exhaustion," the Prince gently suggested. He picked up a tin cup of hot water from the hearth, dropping a few dried leaves into it, and walked back over. He knelt beside the low cot, offering the cup to her. "Drink, it's only pine needle tea. It will help with the nausea."

She didn't reach for the cup in defiance. She stared at his hand— at the tight wrap of his leather glove on his lithe hand, the subtle, expensive silver rings on his finger.

The silence stretched, cold and heavy, until the pounding in her head reached a crescendo. The room tilted again, a sickening lurch that made her vision blur. Gritting her teeth, she was forced to give in, slowly letting her upper body sink back onto the rough pine boughs of the cot.

As she lay back, she pulled the heavy dark coat tighter around her shoulders to shield herself from the draft. Her fingers brushed the smooth silk of the lining. It was his usual coat— the expensive, tailored one he’d worn under the rough peasant’s garb.

A stray, bitter thought crossed her mind. Layering a highly refined, recognizable uniform beneath a peasant disguise... 

Did he get that idea from me? It was practically her own signature method.

Her hand slid deeper into the wide inner pocket of the coat, searching for anything she could use. Her fingers hit a small, textured scrap of fabric. She pulled it out just enough to glimpse it in the dim firelight.

It was a torn piece of soot-stained dark cloth. The exact fragment ripped from her disguise at the docks two nights ago.

Her jaw slackened in sheer disbelief. He was carrying a piece of her ruined clothes in his inner pocket. He truly is a freak, she thought, shoving the fabric back into the dark recess of the coat.

A quiet, agonizing hour bled by. She didn't sleep, but she kept her eyes closed, listening to the crackle of the wood and the rising howl of the wind outside.

During the quiet, the Prince didn't stay still. He spent the time wandering the perimeter of the small cabin, his soft steps tracing the perimeter of the rotting floorboards. He rummaged through the dusty, collapsed wooden shelves in the corner, his gloved fingers occasionally clinking against old iron and glass.

"The late owner of this cabin was quite the hoarder," the Prince's voice broke the silence, conversational and light, as if they were sitting in a parlor rather than a collapsing shelter. He held up a handful of heavy, oxidized coins, letting them clink together. "These are fascinating. They aren't Snezhnayan, nor do they belong to Nod Krai. They're old traveler's currency from the eastern seas. The man was likely an adventurer. Or a smuggler who retired to the quietest corner of the map."

She opened her eyes, staring blankly at the ceiling. He needs to still his tongue, she thought. The constant, unfortunately (for her) calming cadence of his voice was doing terrible things to her focus.

He set the coins down on the table, picking up the apple he had peeled earlier. He walked over and offered it to her. "You need the sugar. Take it."

She hesitated, her fingers cold as she reached out and took the apple from his hand. She held it, feeling the damp, cool flesh of the fruit, but she didn't take a bite. She watched him closely. He hadn't touched a single slice. He hadn't eaten a thing since she woke. 

Why isn't he eating?

Dottore’s voice echoed in the recesses of her mind, sharp and demanding. Act vulnerable. For a few days, back when she was just a quiet shadow navigating the edges of his vision, looking fragile had been easy. But being caught in this frozen cabin, her head splitting, her body exhausted, and her chest tight with a hot, defensive anger— had her unsure about how to play the part. 

True vulnerability was terrifying; acting it felt like choking on glass.

"Why are you here?" she asked quietly, her eyes locking onto his. "And don't give me the diplomatic script. Why are you really here, at the palace?"

The Prince stood beside the cot, his posture radiating an infuriating grace. He seemed to consider his answer before deciding that whatever he was about to say was something he wasn't hiding. "A prince has a duty to keep his citizens safe, and Snezhnaya is expanding. Your organization is moving pieces across the board, shifting markers in the dark, and I prefer to see the terrain with my own eyes. My people are not bargaining chips for the Tsaritsa's play." 

He looked down at her, his eyes unreadable. "But what of you? Why run yourself to the point of collapse for those that view you as an expendable shadow? Is a lifetime of blood and cold iron really the only thing you want?"

The question poked brutally at the very foundation of her existence. She opened her mouth to snap a sharp, biting retort— something about duty, or her debt— but the words died in her throat. Her hesitation was painful, a physical drag in her chest.

Why was she loyal?

Was it really just because they had given her bread and a roof when she was a starving child in the snow? Did she actually want to spend her entire life killing in the dark? Or was there a buried, pathetic part of her that had looked at the grand, glittering ballrooms of Nod Krai, at the laughter and the warmth, and wanted to know what it felt like to live a life that didn't smell like sulfur and blood?

Deep down, she knew the answer.

But the silence stretched, and the cold reality settled back over her like a shroud. She was too far gone. Her hands were stained. Defecting now wouldn't magically wash her clean or give her a seat at the table of the living. A weapon could change hands, but it was still a weapon.

Her gaze dropped, her fingers tightening around the cold, unfinished apple. Her silence was louder than any defensive lie she could have spoken.

"My reasons are my own," she said finally, her voice flat, devoid of any warmth. "My loyalties are not a subject for your curiosity, Prince."

He didn't push and merely let out a soft, dry hum and reached into the inner pocket of his tunic. He pulled out a small, leather-bound book. The second volume of the deceased man’s journal— the one he had passed to her.

He held it out to her. "I believe you dropped this during our little chase. Though, I must confess... I was surprised to find you still had it. Especially after the note I left inside."

Her heart did a violent, sudden leap.

The memory of that paper burned in her mind. He had written that arrogant, soft reminder, and he knew she had kept it. A wave of intense agitation crashed over her. He thought he understood her, thought he was throwing her a lifeline, when in reality, she hadn't even requested the damn thing— she was under strict orders to secure it. Her own interest in the pages was entirely irrelevant.

"I didn't keep it because of your note, nor do you need to know why I still have it," she snapped, snatching the book from his hand, her fingers carefully avoiding any prolonged contact. "It was an assigned retrieval, and I follow my orders. Of course, you who have been tailing me for the past few days should know that."

The Prince didn't push and simply watched her, his expression unbothered as he slowly folded his silver pocketknife shut with a faint, clean click.

He leaned back against the hearth, resting his chin lightly on his knuckles. The faint glow of the fire caught the pale gold of his eyes, giving him a quiet, unhurried air— like a cat watching a bird exhaust itself against a cage. There was no mockery in his posture, yet he had that infuriating, gentle patience that made her skin prickle.

"Of course," he murmured, a quiet, knowing tilt to his lips that suggested he didn't believe a single word, but was far too polite to say it out loud. He sliced off a clean wedge of the apple and balanced it neatly on the flat edge of the blade, holding it out toward her. "Perish the thought that you might have a mind of your own."

She didn't take the bait. She forced her lungs to take a slow breath, letting the dull throb behind her eyes settle into a manageable pulse.

Careful.

She was on an assigned rest, yet here she was, trapped in a drafty cabin with the sovereign prince of Nod Krai after chasing him through the brush like a rabid hound. Playing the fragile, helpless victim now would be a laughable, obvious lie; he had seen her move, seen her stalk him.

But Dottore’s directive echoed in her mind: Play the vulnerable, wounded asset.

The only vulnerability she could muster now wasn't tears, and it certainly wasn't begging. To a man like the Prince, who wore statecraft like a second skin, forced weakness would look like an obvious trap. Not to mention, she would rather die than play a helpless lamb. If she wanted him to lower his guard, she had to give him a different kind of blood— something that looked like an involuntary confession. 

Perhaps… She had to give him personal truth to protect operational secrets.

"I don't need to eat," she said, keeping her voice distinctly unbothered. "And I certainly don't need a lecture on my autonomy from someone currently hiding in a ditch."

The Prince didn't look offended. If anything, the faint tilt of his lips deepened. He slowly wiped the blade clean against his sleeve, the firelight catching the pale gold of his eyes. "A rather well-appointed ditch," he noted mildly, gesturing with the flat of the knife toward the solid, stone-built hearth. "And the storm outside makes for a convenient host."

"In an unmapped sector past your own boundary markers?" She leaned her head back against the rough timber, letting a flicker of genuine, exhausted irritation slip into her tone. "You travel remarkably light for a Prince."

"One travels faster without a court trailing behind them," he replied smoothly, folding the pocketknife with a soft, metallic click. He leaned back against the hearth, resting his chin on his knuckles. "Though it seems no matter how far I walk, the palace always finds a way to send an escort."

There. 

He was opening the door, nudging her to defend her handlers or reveal why she was on his heels. Instead of taking the bait or spouting doctrine, she let out a short, quiet breath— a sound dangerously close to genuine fatigue. 

Because, in truth, it was fatigue. He was simply unfortunate enough to cross paths with her on one of her rare off-days after years of relentless service.

If anything, he had only himself to blame for her unusually sloppy performance.

"I must confess, I almost miss the girl who spoke so poetically of the sun," he added quietly before she could reply, his tone dripping with soft, royal cadence. "She was considerably warmer company."

Her heart gave a sharp, treacherous pang, losing her train of thought.

He was referring to her earlier facade— the sweet, wide-eyed performance she had put on when they first met, quoting poetic lines about living in the dirt while looking up at the sun. A line she had pulled straight from the foolish, buried part of her soul that used to dream of grand ballrooms, silk gowns, and dancing under crystal chandeliers instead of dripping with blood.

That was her real vulnerability: the pathetic, quiet wish that she had been born someone who could afford to be gentle.

And in that split second, she realized how to weaponize it.

If she tried to fight him with cold soldier's cynicism, he would just keep probing. But if she let him think he had caught her slipping, that her cynicism was just a shield for a tired girl, he would swallow the bait whole.

She leaned her head back against the rough timber.

"Poetry is a luxury for people who don't freeze to death, Your Highness," she murmured, letting her eyes half-close as if the physical toll of the chase was finally catching up to her. "Don't mistake my lack of decorum for malice."

It wasn't a complete admission of yearning, but the subtle, weary drop in her voice gave the Prince exactly what he wanted: the sense that beneath her barbed exterior was someone who had simply been hardened by the frost.

He quieted, and the light, teasing demeanor vanished. He seemed deep in thought.

"They never sent me for you, anyway," she added softly, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make it sound like an involuntary slip. "I was off-duty, and I was supposed to be resting."

It was the absolute truth, devoid of names or motives. Dottore had never actually dispatched her to track the Prince. He had merely ordered her to, in simpler words, rest and adapt— a vague, insidious directive that meant if she encountered the Prince, she was to let him draw close. Chasing him across the snow hadn't been an assignment, and it had been a disastrous, impulse-driven mistake born from seeing a high-value target wander into her line of sight on a moment her guard was down.

The Prince tilted his head in question softly. "Resting," he echoed, testing the weight of the word. "Is that what you call running through a blizzard on a cracked frame?"

"It’s what they call it," she replied softly, adding just enough cold bite to make it sound like a slip of resentment she hadn't meant to share.

It was also true.

To the Prince, that brief admission was probably a goldmine. He didn't see an ideological soldier spouting Fatui dogma and saw an overworked, physically broken agent reaching her limit under an unmerciful hierarchy.

As she expected, he didn't press for names nor did he ask what harbinger she had been assigned under. His noble instincts, the very decency she despised, immediately took over the interaction.

"Then you have miserable masters," the Prince said quietly, setting the small wooden plate with the neatly sliced apple on the crate beside her bed.

"They keep me alive," she sighed, keeping her defense weak on purpose— making it sound like the rationalization of someone who had nowhere else to turn. "Out there, gratitude doesn't buy you bread. However, purpose does."

She had not lied once, yet.

The Prince looked down at her, his expression carrying that troublesome, heavy stillness. "You mistake the cage for the roof, Little Star."

She didn't answer and simply stared at him through the dim firelight, letting the silence stretch between them until it felt like a defeat.

In her head, though, the gears were turning with all she could muster while nursing a concussion.

He thinks I'm drowning, she thought, watching him turn back toward the hearth to stoke the embers. He thinks if he pushes just enough, if he shows enough mercy, he can pull me out.

He was smart, noble, and deeply perceptive— but his greatest vulnerability was his belief that everyone wanted to be saved. And as long as he believed she was a tragic, exhausted creature bound by debt, he would keep offering her lifelines... right up until she used one to tie the knot around his wrist.

Suddenly, a violent shudder passed through the cabin.

The wind outside had risen to a deafening, physical force, slamming a wall of heavy ice and snow against the decaying timber. The door groaned, the wooden latch creaking under immense pressure. Through the cracks in the walls, fine, biting powder began to spray.

The Prince walked quickly to the door, pressing his gloved hand against the wood. "The drift has piled up," he said, his voice turning sharp. "The snow has entirely blocked the doorway. We are sealed in."

She forced herself up, her balance swaying slightly as she walked to the window. It was completely caked in solid ice. She looked up. The only clear opening was a small, narrow window high up near the ceiling, just below the rotting rafters.

They were completely trapped.

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Hours began to stretch, bleeding into a grueling, freezing night. The fire in the hearth dwindled, the wood burning down to ancient, glowing coals that cast long, dying shadows across the rotting timber. 

The temperature inside the cabin plummeted rapidly. She sat back down on the cot, pulling her knees tight against her chest, her body shivering in violent, uncontrollable spasms. Her head was pounding with a sickening rhythm, and the sheer lack of food and water was starting to take its toll; her limbs felt heavy, hollow, and carved from ice.

Across the dim room, the Prince watched her. He didn't offer another useless verbal comfort, and he stood up, his tall frame cutting through the gloom as he walked over to the cot with slow steps.

She felt the cot shift under his weight before she even registered his movement. When his gloved hands reached out, her instinct fired— a clumsy, defensive shove against his chest. But her knuckles barely grazed his tunic before he caught her wrists, ignoring her feeble resistance as he sat down on the very edge of the frame. Without a word, he gathered the heavy folds of his coat, which was still draped over her, and pulled her close, drawing her back against the steady, intense heat of his chest.

"Don't," she muttered, her voice trembling so violently the word barely carried.

"You are minutes from sliding into hypothermia," he said, his voice unyielding as his arms wrapped securely around her waist, anchoring her against him.

He’s warm.

She hated it, how terrifyingly safe she felt cocooned against his chest while the storm raged outside. Yet, if she was playing the exhausted, broken asset, if her angle was to give him genuine glimpses of her physical unraveling to protect operational secrets, then resisting his warmth now was counterproductive. 

No, accepting his shelter wasn't a surrender, and she was simply staying alive to finish the job.

Although she wasn't naive enough to miss the glaring, absurd intimacy of the picture they made. Two enemies, trapped in a snowbound cabin, pressed together in the dark. But soft confessions, secret rendezvous, and quiet affection weren't things she had ever experienced— they were things she had only ever watched from high, shadowed rafters, crouched in silence while a target waited for a secret lover to slip out the side door before she struck. 

As her cheek pressed against his shoulder, the throb behind her eyes began to dull, the lingering fog of her concussion finally clearing enough for logic to flood back in.

Dottore's directive.

She had been so consumed by physical exhaustion and the sheer absurdity of being trapped with the Prince that her operational focus had lagged. Dottore’s order to "rest and adapt" was a test— a loose leash designed to see if she could weaponize whatever circumstance she landed in.

She still had to plant the tracker. 

But how?

Her eyes scanned his silhouette in the gloom with all the stealth she could muster, careful not to make the movement obvious. He was fully clothed for the winter— a high, stiff collar met the very edge of his jaw, his throat was bound in a thick wool scarf, and heavy leather gloves covered his hands. 

Almost no skin was exposed. The only uncovered part of him was his face, but he was a sovereign trained in combat and statecraft; his reflexes were sharp. If she tried to brush her fingers against his cheek or his jaw to apply the necessary pressure, he would feel the physical contact instantly and catch her wrist before she could pull back. The risk of detection was absolute.

She weighed her options, the pressure in her chest tightening.

Then, the memory of Dottore’s voice echoed in her mind: The transmitter is sealed inside a pressure-sensitive outer membrane. It is entirely inert until that outer shell is physically ruptured. It will not dissolve or bond to you as long as the shell remains intact.

The realization was bitter— a desperate, absurd tactical leap. If she couldn't touch his skin with her hands, she would have to use her mouth. She would have to keep the tiny grain dry under her tongue, and then physically crush the membrane with her teeth at the exact moment of contact, forcing the active transmitter past his lips where it would bond to his internal lining. 

And hopefully, what would ensue would distract him enough to not notice it.

It was a last-ditch, high-stakes gamble, but it was the only path left.

What a sickening joke, she thought, her stomach twisting into a cold knot. People believe in fairytales where a prince's kiss brings salvation. They never consider using one as a trap.

She reached down, her hands shaking, and picked up the half-frozen tin cup of pine needle tea on the floor.

"Still stubborn, I see," the Prince murmured, his chin resting near her shoulder as he held her.

She didn't bother to answer and tilted her head away while slipping her hand into her inner pocket, luckily hidden by his coat, as if adjusting her seating position. She extracted the tiny, salt-grain capsule from its casing and hid it behind her fingers. She raised the cup to her lips, using the gesture to mask the movement as she slid the dry capsule into her mouth. She immediately tucked it beneath her tongue, pursing her lips to prevent the water from slipping in and keeping her mouth completely dry to prevent the protective membrane from breaking.

The storm outside began to lull, the howling wind dropping into a low, rumbling hum. The worst of the blizzard had passed.

This was her window.

"Do you think you can save me?" she whispered, turning her head so her face was mere inches from his. The proximity was dizzying, the intense heat radiating from him blurring her thoughts. Her pulse hammered against her throat, loud and frantic.

"I think that leaving an individual to die of hypothermia under my watch is slightly below me, or anyone, for that matter," he hummed, his voice a low murmur that rang against her ear. His eyes traced the line of her jaw, the intensity in his gaze holding her entirely frozen. He didn't move away; if anything, his grip on her waist tightened, a slow squeeze.

"My loyalty is already claimed," she forced out, her breath hitching against the heat of his neck. “You should have left me to rot in the snow.”

"If I wanted you dead, I wouldn't have bothered dragging you out of it," he hummed, his low voice brushing against her ear. "I’ve no desire to bury you. Not when you are so remarkably alive."

Her pulse gave a violent, treacherous leap.

For all her calculated and tactical framing, her composure faltered— just for a fraction of a second. She had spent the entire evening convincing herself that she was the puppeteer, that her softness was a weapon and her weakness a curated lie. 

But sitting in the dark, held against the broad, unyielding heat of his chest, the terrible truth pressed against her ribs: she wasn't acting as much as she pretended to be.

It terrified her. If she let herself sit in that warmth for even a moment longer without an operational objective to anchor her, she was going to drown in it.

Use it, she forced herself to think, dragging her cold, pragmatic logic back over her racing heart like a shroud. If he wants you alive, give him a reason to stay on your trail. Let him think he broke through.

She did not rush. She let both of their words hang between them in the cold air, watching the way his dark eyes narrowed slightly, absorbing her bitterness. She leaned in incrementally, letting the soft tips of her hair brush his cheek, feeling the heavy, steady rise and fall of his chest.

The Prince did not flinch, nor did he pull back. He simply went very still, his posture radiating a quiet, unblinking intensity. It was the calm of a man who knew he was looking at a blade, yet refused to avert his gaze.

She closed the remaining distance, letting her cold lips lightly touch his.

Warm.

It was an agonizingly slow brush of skin— a quiet test of his gravity. She lingered there, feeling the searing contrast of his breath against her freezing skin, waiting for the recoil, waiting for the prince to remember who she was.

He didn't move away. Instead, his gloved hand rose, the thick leather pressing firmly against the small of her back, dragging her body flush against his. He didn't gasp or show surprise; his touch became heavy and entirely consuming. He met the kiss with a quiet, devastating depth, accepting the contact as if he had been waiting for the trap to close all along.

The heat between them flared violently, a sudden, terrifying fire in the middle of the frozen cabin. What was supposed to be a precise maneuver spiraled into something thick and dizzying. His mouth parted hers with a low murmur, his grip on her waist tightening until there wasn't a breath of air left between them. Her mind spun, her senses overwhelmed by the smell of crushed pine and the faded scent of his expensive fragrance, the dark warmth of his breath, and the sheer, intoxicating gravity of how deeply he was kissing her back.

Now.

Beneath her tongue, she forced her spinning thoughts to focus, rolling the tiny crystalline capsule forward between her teeth.

She bit down.

A tiny, sharp crack echoed only in the bone of her jaw.

The shell shattered. The active tracking fluid flooded her mouth, tasteless and cold.

She didn't hesitate. She pressed deeper into him, tangling her fingers into the heavy wool of his scarf to pull him closer, parting his lips with a slow drag of her mouth. She swept the fluid across the seam of his lips and onto his tongue, ensuring the microscopic tracker made direct, undeniable contact with his mouth.

The Prince didn't pull back. If anything, the sudden, fierce intensity of her movement only made him press deeper, anchoring her against his chest as the kiss burned out of control.

Then, the reality of what she had done crashed over her with the force of a tidal wave.

The tracker was gone. The assignment was complete. But his hands were still on her spine, his mouth was still warm against hers, and for three horrifying seconds, she had just been a girl being held in the dark by a man who made the cold go away.

She had let her guard down against herself.

A sudden, suffocating panic took hold. The lines were completely destroyed. The cage felt too much like an embrace, and if she stayed here for one more minute, she would lose her grip entirely.

With a surge of pure, adrenaline-fueled strength, she tore her mouth away from his. She scrambled backward off the cot, her boots hitting the floorboards with a harsh thud as her chest heaved, gasping for the freezing air of the room to burn the lingering taste of him from her mouth.

"I have to go," she whispered, her breathing frantic, her hands shaking violently.

The Prince rose slowly from the cot. His usual diplomatic poise was entirely gone, replaced by a dangerous focus as he took a heavy step toward her. He didn't speak, but his eyes were wide, searching her face with a quiet, demanding gravity that made her heart ache with a physical, dull throb.

She couldn't look at him. If she looked at him, she would stall.

Her eyes swept the dim room, locking onto the table by the door where her stiletto lay. 

Yet she pulled herself back, leaving the weapon lying cold and silent on the dark wood. 

Let him keep it. 

Yes, let him hold the iron in his hand and wonder if the kiss was a weapon, an invitation, or a breakdown.

She grabbed the sturdy wooden ladder resting against the wall and slammed it against the high, narrow window near the ceiling.

She climbed with frantic, desperate speed, her boots slipping on the frozen rungs as her heart battered against her ribs like a trapped bird. She shattered the frosted glass of the window with her bare elbow, completely ignoring the sharp bites of the shards tearing through her skin, and dragged herself through the narrow opening.

She tumbled out into the blinding white night.

The freezing Snezhnayan wind hit her like a physical blow, stealing the breath right out of her lungs. It was agonizing. The cold was a heavy, sharp weight, biting into her open cuts and freezing the tears she hadn't realized were stinging her eyes.

Run, her mind screamed over the howl of the storm. Run before you turn around.

She plunged into the knee-deep drifts, running on borrowed time and pure terror. 

The prince wasn't the one who had trapped her; no, she had trapped herself. She had given him the tracker, but in doing so, she had left a piece of her own resolve lying on that dark wooden table beside her blade.

She ran through the biting whiteout, her vision swimming, her body screaming in protest. The memory of his mouth, his warmth, and the heavy weight of his hand against her spine burned like dry ice against her skin.

She ran until her legs finally gave out, her knees buckling as she tumbled over a frozen ridge and slid down into a small, shelter-blinded valley.

Through the driving snow and the spots dancing in her eyes, the faint, flickering amber lanterns of a quiet town appeared through the mist.

Nod Krai.

7230 words.

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send a message or an ask (with anon off, i wont post it) to be added to the taglist!

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first part is for world-building purposes! to be clear about the setting:

as stated in the first part with dottore and pantalone:

the powers we know as "visions" in the canonical universe manifests through either bloodline or anomalies in an individual's birth. so, instead of dottore's canon motives were to push human cognitive and physical boundaries to match or surpass the gods, and fight against mortality, then his motives here have something to do with fate being bound to bloodline,, sorry its the only plotline i could muster for this fantasy genshin au💔 i immensly enjoyed dottore's arcs so i would hate to somehow skew the way his ideologies were very amazingly written and portrayed in canon

the canon timeline is immensely compressed into around 2 decades worth of stories💔 this was a pain to figure out

contrary to canon, nod krai and snezhnaya are connected to each other through land, but the border is a wasteland, so people still typically travel through boat

yes, they know flins is someone from the previous snezhnayan court (although he was young), they just dont know much about his time there

speaking of dottore and pantalone, a certain artifact set's lore just came out and ive been screaming ever since...

ok now that we're done with that…

AJHSHGDBAJDBJAHBDJHABSJHBDHJJAHAHAHSJ sorry i had to let that out. ive been so deprived from writing proper romance since i shackled myself to slow burn but ohyes THIS fic doesnt have that tag so im FREEEE, master has given dobby a SOCK

also, i love how i can see the names of reading lists this fic is added to on wattpad… i just got a funny one around 3 hours ago (if you know who you are) and it had me tickled in laughter so im posting this chapter earlier than planned HAHAHAH.

i LOVE the way flins talks💔 hes been my main ever since he released hehe. once i found out that hes actually a little shit who enjoys being misread as scary, i was LOCKED IN. was the kiss random? well, its cinderella, source material suggests that the pacing is a-ok!!! (i just really wanted to put tension)

is the first chapter starting to make sense now? :)

About Future Plans

“My future’s her. That’s all you need to know.”

About His Ring, I

“Asking about my ring, huh? This is a promise ring. Bun’s got the match to it on her left, and I’ve got mine on my right. That way, whenever we hold hands, our rings touch. Not to brag or anything, but it’s kind of an awesome feeling.”

About Differences

“Mm, yeah, I get that all the time. ‘Vice Captain Lohen, you’re so violent and your girlfriend’s so sweet! Did you threaten her into dating you?’ People learned to stop saying the last part after I made up a new special training.”

About Bunny, II

“Hey, Honorary Knight. What’s that? I sound kinda down today? Well, I guess I’m a little bummed. Bun’s obsessed with this fantasy novel, and her favorite author’s doing a book signing in Inazuma. She’s going all that way, just for one signature! And she told me not to request leave, because she wants us to go on vacation this Summer! So I’m stuck here while she’s on her way there, and it’s driving me crazy not knowing if she’s safe or not. (…) Inazuma’s a safe country, you say? Maybe for you and me, but Bun can’t fight, so I’m worried fuckin’ sick. Pardon my French.”

About Fear

“No, she’s not scared of me. Why would she be? (…) Haha! You think I’d ever point a weapon at my girlfriend? I only get rid of the trash that needs cleaning up, and she understands that. Sure, her vision’s basically useless to her, but one good slap from her sets my shit preeetty straight. Man, I sure hope she smacks me around tonight…heh-heh.”

About Sex

“You wanna die, Honorary Knight?"

About His Ring, II

“Why’s it on my pointer finger? Well, that’s ’cause it’s my trigger finger. Whenever I shoot someone, it kinda feels like Bun’s shooting ‘em with me. Haha! It’s super romantic.”

About Pranks

“No, no, no—I don’t poison Bun. I mean, I slip a teensy weensy amount of it into her meals every now and then, just to help her build some tolerance, but I’d never outright poison her. If I’m gonna mess with her, I’ll usually just rage bait her until she starts beating on me. Oh—or I’ll tickle her until she starts crying! She’s so freakin’ cute when she’s in tears like that, heh-heh. (…) Huh? What’s so weird about that?”

About Love

“Yeah, she’s the love of my life. What’s it matter to you, exactly? (…) You…think we’re cute together? Oh, uh…well. Hm. Wasn’t expecting you to say that, honestly. Uh…thanks…I guess? I don’t really, uh…know what to say to that. (...) Huh? Pft—no! No, I’m not embarrassed! No, not at all! A-anyway, I gotta go do paperwork or something, so…! I’ll see you later, Honorary Knight!”

Diluc's first meeting with the apothecary was... odd, to say the least.

A knock on his manor's door would usually be answered by one of the many maids or butlers running the household, but for some reason, Diluc felt compelled to answer it himself.

On the other side of the door stood a woman, her expression hard to read, almost neutral except for the bit of excitement hiding behind her eyes.

"Sorry to disturb you, Mister, but you have some poisonous plant roots on your grape vines."

Diluc stared back at her, brows lifting ever so slightly at her straightforwardness, "And... you're telling me this because...?"

A smile quickly spread across her face, "I'd like to take them, if you don't mind."

His lips pursed together before speaking, "If you're offering an extraction service, I'm not interested in buying-"

Her eyes widened, "Huh? Oh, no, nothing like that. I'd just like to take the roots. I'm not looking for payment. The roots themselves would be more than enough."

Diluc narrowed his eyes, glancing over at the vineyard to see what she was talking about, noticing a purplish root stemming from the ground and wrapping around the trellis.

"You... just want the root?"

The woman emphatically nodded, a sparkle appearing in her eyes, "Mmhm! They're uh— good for certain medicines."

Her gaze met his, a certain intensity to her expression, "I can take them and be out of your hair in, like, three minutes tops! I promise not to touch the grapes!"

Diluc looked at her, skepticism evident in his stare, "I suppose there's no harm in it; you don't mind if I supervise, do you?"

The woman shook her head rapidly, then turned around to squeal and jump up and down on the tips of her toes in excitement, mumbling under her breath, "Yeeeeessss~ I finally get a rare poisonous root from Mondstadt...! This is awesome~."

Diluc couldn't help but let out a small, if not totally silent, laugh, slightly amused by her sudden burst of joy. 

She practically raced over to the trellis with the dangerous root, picking and prodding at it with determined focus. Diluc noticed the way her hands were steady, unyielding in their pursuit. 

And as she carefully extracted it, Diluc couldn't help but stare with fascination. Her eyes were glinting with a certain spark, one that Diluc could only admire. 

Though when she finished, gathering the now-removed root and glancing back at him, he almost felt embarrassed for staring for so long.

The woman gave him a sheepish smile, a cute giggle escaping her, "Sorry for making you wait, and uh... thanks for the root."

"No problem." Diluc turned his gaze away from her to the place where the root once occupied. It was expertly cut, with no damage to the trellis or any of the grapevines, "Who exactly are you, anyway? I doubt any average citizen of Mondstadt would notice such a thing, let alone be able to handle it without issue."

She laughed, "I'm not from Mondstadt, actually; I just kinda wander from place to place, ya know? Oh, and the name's Y/n, I'm an apothecary."

Diluc hummed in response, "And I suppose you have some use for this particular plant for your practice?"

"It's more for experiments, really. I like to test things out."

She stood up rather quickly, bowing to Diluc with a joyful expression, "Thank you again, Mister. I'll be going now!"

And with those last words, she raced off into the woods near the Dawn Winery. 

A sudden pang in Diluc's chest hit him harder than he thought, an outstretched hand following her form for a moment before recoiling back. 

He didn't get to tell her his name, did he?

Kaeya's meeting with the wandering apothecary was a while back, long before the Traveler appeared in Mondstadt.

He liked to recall the memory from time to time, often musing about it and longing to see her again since he enjoyed her presence so much. 

It had happened by chance, with Kaeya on his way to the Knights of Favonius Headquarters, and Y/n standing in the middle of the square's fountain.

Kaeya had almost laughed out loud. Seeing a random girl poking through the fountain was such an intense gaze was definitely a comical sight.

"Did you lose something in there?" The Cavalry captain couldn't hide the smile on his lips and was far too amused to hold back the teasing lilt to his voice.

Without a moment of hesitation, the woman shook her head, not even bothering to speak. 

"Do you require some assistance then?"

A laugh escaped her, not sparing him a single glance, "Hardly. Besides, a knight wouldn't know the first thing about this."

Kaeya tilted his head to the side, trying to get a better view of what she was doing. Her gaze was set on the water before her, with her hands scraping something at the bottom of the fountain.

"...And what would that be?"

Her head snapped towards his direction, a big grin on her face, "Algae. What else?"

He had to admit, out of all the things she could have said, that was nowhere near what he expected. 

She turned back to the water, slowly lifting her scraping utensil and depositing the contents of the algae into a small pouch, "I saw this when I was at Good Hunter earlier, so I knew that I needed to check it out!"

Kaeya only stared at her, for once not able to give his typical witty response. 

The woman stepped out of the fountain, shaking off the excess water on her legs, then turning to leave the city, a pep in her step, and humming a small, cheerful tune.

 Since then, Kaeya has met this woman more often, learning she was an apothecary who experimented with random plants and poisons.

And as the knight sat in Angel's Share, swirling a glass of dandelion wine in his hand, he couldn't help but wish that she could visit Mondstadt more often, if only to enjoy her sweet smile and adorable laugh once more.

One of these days, Kaeya would be sure to ask her to have dinner with him and hopefully woo her with his enigmatic charm.

She had piqued Lohen's interest the moment he saw her, with the knights under his order only staring in worry as their vice captain completely forwent the mission to talk to the random girl poking around the poisonous flowerbed.

His usual Cheshire grin flourished on his handsome face, "You know those are poisonous, right?"

The woman only hummed back in response, picking up one particularly well-preserved flower with a cute little smile on her face as she admired it.

Lohen stepped closer, his gaze landing on that adorable smile, eyes narrowing with a mischievous glint, "You gonna poison somebody with that?"

She laughed, almost shocking Lohen, if not for how pretty it sounded to his ears.

"No way. This stuff could kill the average man with only a milligram of the venom in its stem. I wouldn't do that to anyone." The woman picked a few more flowers, careful not to let the toxin escape from the bottom, "I'll be testing it on myself anyway."

The knights who were just standing around waiting for Lohen to finish his impromptu conversation all let out choked coughs and held flabbergasted expressions as they stared at the woman.

"Testing on yourself? A pretty 'lil thing like you?"

The woman shot him a glare, rising from her crouched position in the flowerbed, "One, don't call me little, and two, I can handle just about any poison in Teyvat, just so you know."

Lohen chuckled, "No need to get hostile; as a knight, it's my duty to make sure the citizens of Mondstadt are all safe. Wouldn't want someone getting sick, right?"

She stared at him for a moment, eyeing his expression and evaluating his body language, before finally speaking, "Something tells me that's not your actual concern."

The mint-haired man tilted his head, still grinning away, "Oh? And what makes you think that, lovely?"

The woman narrowed her eyes at that term of endearment, but straightened her shoulders, crossing her arms and faced him squarely, "You're the Vice Captain of the Fifth Company, right? You're a poison fiend from what I've heard. So I'm sure you know this type of toxin isn't contagious when it infects the body."

He held up his hands in mock surrender, "You got me."

Lohen lowered his hands, "You're that apothecary everyone keeps talkin' about, right? Could I get a name to match the pretty face?"

The h/c-haired woman stared again, then sighed at her own realization. She picked up her bag and prepared to leave, "It's Y/n. And you can stop with the flattery; I don't give out poisons for free."

As she left, Lohen couldn't help but chuckle. She knew the whole time that he wanted her poisons, didn't she? How cute. He'd have to be more covert next time. 

And he hoped that that next time would be soon.

Varka found it hard to focus with such a loud commotion right outside his office. He could clearly hear Amber's worried shouts; she might as well have been screaming right in his ear for the difference it'd make.

Staring down at his mountain of paperwork, the Grandmaster let out a heavy sigh, then pushed himself up and out of his desk chair to see what was going on out there; it's not like he'd get any work done with that racket, nor did he want to.

His office door slid open, causing Amber to freeze mid-shout.

"G-grandmaster Varka!? I didn't realize you were in there...!" Embarrassment crossed the young outrider's features, "I'm really sorry for disturbing you, but I need to get this woman to Barbara A.S.A.P!"

Varka glanced at the woman next to Amber, someone he didn't recognize. But getting a good look at her, he couldn't help but think about how pretty she was, even with her expression clouded by some form of distress.

But as soon as he realized that he was just staring, Varka let out a small cough to cover his slightly more rosy cheeks, "Did a Hilichurl get you?"

The woman didn't respond, simply turning her gaze to the floor with pursed lips.

Varka glanced at Amber for an answer, which he got rather quickly.

"She ate some poisonous berries! I'm trying to get her to go to Barbara, but she's been refusing!!"

The Grandmaster's eyes widened, his head snapping to look at the woman again to confirm.

"And I told you that it's fine; I've ingested way worse toxins and come through just fine."

Amber huffed, taking hold of the woman's wrist, "If that really is the case, then a check-up won't hurt!"

The woman sighed, "It's really not necessary; I'd only be wasting Miss Barbara's time."

Their banter continued for a bit, Varka keeping his eye on the woman in front of him. Did he hear her right? Does she eat poisonous things on the regular? Why?

Varka laughed, catching both women off guard.

"Grandmaster Varka? This is hardly a laughing matter! Those berries could be killing her at this very moment!"

Varka showed a sheepish smile, "Sorry about that, but you don't happen to be that Apothecary everyone keeps talking about 'round here?"

The woman nodded after a few moments, almost hesitantly, "Whatever you heard, it's either not true, or my crimes have been greatly exaggerated."

The Grandmaster let out another laugh, "I was referring to an immunity to poisons you happen to have."

"Ah."

Silence stood between the three of them before this woman broke it, "So... can I go?"

Varka chuckled, while Amber stood with uncertainty in her gaze.

"If you start feeling sick, come back right away, alright?"

The woman did a mock salute before rushing out of the Knights of Favonius Headquarters.

Varka stared at her retreating figure, more amused than anything, a small hope in the back of his mind that he'd see her again.

A gust of wind nearly sent her flying off the tree, only barely escaping such a fate by taking hold of the branch she was sitting on at the last second.

Her curved blade nearly slipped from her fingers, catching the looped end with her other hand before it tumbled below. 

With narrowed eyes, she glanced around, at least as much as could while dangling from a branch.

Y/n couldn't see anyone, but there was definitely a person here. She felt it. With a quick pull, she was sitting on the branch again, sitting still with a few cursory looks around the giant tree in Windrise.

When nothing happened, she carefully lifted her blade to resume her previous task.

But of course, another gust of wind was pointed in her direction; thankfully, she was prepared enough not to skid too far off. 

"Whoever's doing that, you're being a real pain in the ass...!" Y/n glanced around again, an annoyed tone laced throughout her statement.

The branch she rested on dipped a bit as new weight was added, "Then stop messing with the Symbol of Mondstadt's Hero."

Y/n turned around and saw a shorter guy with deep black hair and an aqua-teal color fading in his front braids, a green outfit that looked like a fancy bard's getup. Her head tilted to the side, trying to get a good read on him, while his face was soft-looking and rather cute; however, his frown was evident, a look she could tell was unusual for him. 

"I'm just getting this mycelium; I'll be in and out quick." Y/n turned back to extract the mushrooms she had noticed growing on the side of the large oak tree. 

Another gust of wind nearly sent her right into the tree itself, which she stopped right before she faceplanted the hardened wood.

"Would you quit!? I'm not doin' anything bad here!"

She glanced over her shoulder at him again, his brows now furrowed deeply with puffed-out cheeks, "Not doing anything bad? You're clearly trying to hurt the tree!"

Y/n stared blankly at him, eyes trained on his expression and the small ways it fluctuated, from the crinkle between his brows to the flaring of his nostrils. Then, she spoke in a much less annoyed manner, "You're worried I'm hurting the tree? C'mere then."

The h/c-haired woman motioned for him to get closer, placing her blade back in its holster. 

Cautiously, the raven-haired guy took a few steps closer.

Y/n then pointed at the mushrooms on the tree, "These are parasitic and saprophytic mushrooms, you know what that means?" 

She didn't let him respond, instead pointing at the root point of the mycelium where signs of crackling wood were clear, "It's a wood-decay fungus, typically only feeding on dead trees; that's the saprophytic part, but when in dire need, it can grow on live trees to continue thriving, that's the parasitic part." 

The guy's eyes widened, leaning in slightly more.

She continued, "It's in a rather early stage of development, so it's not doing any damage right now, but if it's left to fester, it can kill the tree within two to five years."

He went silent, staring down at his lap in thought before finally speaking, "And you were trying to stop that from happening..."

His words were more of a statement to himself than to her, but after a few short moments, he looked back at Y/n, a much softer expression on his face, "Sorry... about that."

Y/n smiled at him, picking up her blade again, "No need for an apology, just let me finish this real quick."

Within the next few minutes, the fungi was completely extracted and placed into a pouch for safekeeping.

She had fully expected the stranger to be gone, but he stood at the bottom of the tree instead, almost like he was waiting for her.

"You good?"

He looked like he didn't know what to say, his eyes having a hard time meeting hers. But after a moment of pure awkward silence, he spoke, a slightly more cheerful grin on his lips, "Thank you. For helping the tree, I mean."

Y/n laughed, "It's no problem. I'd hate to see this big guy go down; it's such a relaxing spot here in Mondstadt, one of my favorites to come to when I'm passing through."

The guy looked up at the big tree, "Me too..."

Silence came between them again, but much less awkward this time.

When that silence was broken, a friendly chat arose, learning each other's names and professions, then talking for a while longer before splitting ways.

And the stranger, now known to her as Venti, couldn't help but wish to see her again, hoping she stops by Mondstadt again, sooner rather than later.

.

.

.

Within minutes the child would begin asking endless questions, wandering around the house, climbing onto furniture, touching anything remotely interesting, and somehow finding danger in the most ordinary places.

Lohen would spend most of the day following a few steps behind with an increasingly exhausted expression, quietly pulling them away from shelves before they could climb them, moving fragile objects out of reach, and repeatedly saying, "...No, we're not doing that," only to repeat himself seconds later.

He wouldn't magically become good with children, nor would he suddenly know how to entertain them. Instead, he'd awkwardly sit through every long-winded story they insisted on telling, occasionally responding with short comments simply because completely ignoring them felt too cruel.

Whenever the child inevitably became bored and demanded he play with them, he'd let out a long, defeated sigh before reluctantly giving in, looking painfully out of his element the entire time.

Despite complaining under his breath every few minutes that children were exhausting, he'd never once stop paying attention to where they were, instinctively catching them before they tripped, pulling them away from anything dangerous, and making sure they ate properly without ever admitting he cared. By the end of the day, he'd look far more worn out than after some of his most demanding missions, privately deciding that watching children required a level of endurance he simply did not possess.

When you finally returned, the first thing you saw was Lohen sitting on the couch with a look of complete defeat while your younger sibling continued talking excitedly without taking a single breath. The child immediately ran over to you, proudly announcing every chaotic thing they’d done that afternoon. Lohen slowly looked up, rubbing a hand over his face before letting out a long sigh. “…I don’t know how you do it.” After a brief pause, he glanced toward your sibling, who had already started climbing onto the back of the couch, and stood up before they could fall. “…I’m still not having children anytime soon.”

── ( 𝒘. ) wanderer would spend the first several minutes questioning your judgment for leaving your younger sibling with him in the first place. The child, meanwhile, would seem completely unfazed by his sharp tongue, immediately bombarding him with questions, following him from room to room, poking at his hat, tugging on his sleeve, and talking almost nonstop.

Every few minutes he'd click his tongue in annoyance, muttering that they were unbearably noisy, yet despite all the complaints, he'd quietly keep them within arm's reach whenever they wandered too close to something dangerous.

If they climbed somewhere high, he'd immediately pull them back down before scolding them for making reckless decisions. If they refused to eat, he'd grumble the entire time while somehow managing to convince them anyway.

He'd never openly entertain their childish antics, insisting he wasn't interested whenever they invited him to play, though after enough persistent pleading he'd begrudgingly participate while pretending he wasn't enjoying himself in the slightest.

The child would quickly discover that every sarcastic remark he made was usually followed by him quietly fixing whatever problem they had caused. If they scraped a knee, he'd click his tongue before cleaning it up with surprising gentleness. If they grew sleepy halfway through the day, he'd quietly drape a blanket over them while pretending he was only doing it because their constant talking had finally stopped.

By the time you returned, Wanderer would already be insisting that he was never agreeing to babysit again, despite the unmistakable fact that he'd spent the entire day making sure your sibling was safe, comfortable, and never once actually felt unwelcome.

When you came back, you found your sibling happily drawing while Wanderer sat nearby pretending not to watch. The child suddenly looked up with a grin. “He let me braid his hair!” Wanderer immediately frowned. “I did no such—” His hand instinctively reached behind his head before pausing. Feeling several tiny braids woven into his hair, he closed his eyes with visible annoyance. “I’m never doing this again.”

── ( 𝒍. ) lyney would accept the responsibility with absolute confidence, reassuring you with his usual easy smile that everything would be perfectly fine and insisting he'd handled far more difficult audiences before.

From the moment you left, he'd somehow transform an ordinary afternoon into what felt like an endless magic show. Every complaint from your younger sibling would become an opportunity for another trick, every moment of boredom answered with a disappearing coin, a deck of enchanted-looking cards, or an elaborate story that somehow turned the child into his honorary assistant.

Rather than telling them to sit still, he'd cleverly redirect all of that boundless energy into helping him prepare his 'next performance,' making them feel important enough that they rarely had time to cause trouble.

Even whenever they became particularly stubborn or dramatic, Lyney never seemed to lose his patience, instead treating every tantrum like an audience member who simply hadn't seen the best part of the show yet.

Before long, the two of them would be constructing imaginary performances together, practicing dramatic introductions, and assigning ridiculous stage names to one another. He'd laugh just as much as the child did, fully committing to every game without ever making them feel like they were simply being babysat.

Somewhere throughout the day, he'd unintentionally become less of a babysitter and more of an older brother figure, encouraging their confidence, celebrating every tiny achievement with exaggerated applause, and making sure they finished meals and stayed hydrated without them even realizing they were being looked after.

By the time you returned, the house would almost certainly be messier than when you left, but your sibling would have spent the entire day smiling, convinced they'd just experienced the greatest magic show Fontaine had ever seen.

Dozens of playing cards littered the floor while your sibling excitedly insisted they’d 'learned real magic.' Lyney looked up with an innocent smile, though the glitter scattered across both of them suggested otherwise. “In my defense,” he laughed, brushing a handful of confetti from his shoulder, “they were an exceptionally enthusiastic assistant.” The child immediately puffed out their chest. “I’m better than Lyney!” He placed a hand dramatically over his heart. “I'm being replaced?!”

── ( 𝒇. ) flins would begin the day genuinely believing babysitting couldn't possibly be as difficult as everyone claimed. That confidence would disappear almost immediately after your younger sibling began asking nonstop questions, insisting he join every game they invented, and somehow managing to create chaos from the simplest activities.

Clearly overwhelmed yet determined not to disappoint you, he'd try almost everything that came to mind. If the child wanted to build a fort, he'd help gather every blanket in the house. If they wanted a story, he'd make one up on the spot, awkwardly improvising as they continuously interrupted with increasingly ridiculous suggestions.

Rather than trying to take complete control of the situation, Flins would naturally begin following the child's imagination instead, letting them decide the rules of every game while quietly making sure they never got hurt.

Though he'd become visibly flustered whenever the child ran off unexpectedly or asked questions he couldn't answer, he'd never lose his patience or raise his voice, choosing instead to gently redirect their attention elsewhere until the problem solved itself.

As the day went on, his initial awkwardness would gradually fade, replaced by genuine laughter whenever the child proudly showed him another drawing or insisted on teaching him a completely made-up game.

He'd still look exhausted by the end of it all, but there'd also be a quiet satisfaction in knowing he'd managed to keep them happy. Even if he insisted afterward that children had far too much energy, he'd secretly think back on the day with a small smile, realizing it had been far more rewarding than he'd expected.

When you finally returned, you found the two of them sitting on the floor surrounded by an impressive mess of blankets, wooden blocks, and hastily made paper crafts. Flins looked up with an embarrassed smile, rubbing the back of his neck. “…I was going to clean this before you got back.” Your sibling immediately interrupted. “No! We’re not done yet!” He let out a resigned sigh before glancing back at you. “…I think I’m taking orders too.”

His first victim was Varka.

Varka had been slacking off as usual. He absolutely dreaded paperwork. His legs were on his desk while he leaned back on his chair. It would have been very unfortunate if someone just happened to walk in and make the grandmaster fall…

“Varkaaaaaaaaaa,” Lohen calls as he slams open the door to his office.

Varka immediately jumps at the sudden noise, falling backwards onto his chair with a loud thump.

“Jean! I’m not slacking off, I’m doing paperwork!” He immediately tried to sit up, acting as casual as he could.

Lohen could only stare at the grandmaster’s pathetic form with amusement as he leaned against the door frame.

“Tsk, I’ll just ask someone else,” he says.

“Wait, Loh-“ Slam! And Lohen has left his office.

Varka lets out a sigh, now his curiosity has taken over him on what Lohen wanted to ask him.

— —

Next victim? Lisa.

“You want to learn how to woo a girl?” Lisa looks up from her book, throwing a suspicious yet amused look at the vice captain. “And who is this mysterious girl?”

“Psh, why would I tell you?” Lohen says as he leans against the book.

Lisa chuckles as she settles down her book on her desk. “I mean it’s quite the news someone had caught your attention,” she states, leaning forward on her desk. “The first thing you wanna know is how to flirt.”

“Like telling them how pretty their blood is?”

Lisa immediately facepalmed and shook his head. “Lohen- no… not like that. Flirting as in complimenting their appearance or teasing them in a playful way.”

“Oh.” Lohen responds, looking at Lisa with a blank stare. “I don’t know how to do that.”

“Yes, I can tell,” she says while standing up from her desk. “It’s okay, we’ll work on it.”

— —

Lohen’s third victim—per Lisa’s request—was Flora. One of the best florists in Mondstat.

“Maybe get her a bouquet of flowers,” Lisa had told him. The words repeated in his head over and over again as he made his way to Flora’s flower stand.

To say Flora was nervous was an understatement. Imagine the bloodthirsty and maniac vice captain.

“Say… what flower is the most popular or favourite among the ladies?” Lohen asks, his hands gently tracing the petals of a windwheel aster.

“W-We-Well, Cecilas are our most po-popular flowers!” Flora gestures to a bouquet of Cecilas wrapped in blue wrapping paper on the display table. The poor girl was shivering badly despite it being quite a nice day. Someone put her out of her misery already.

Lohen tapped a finger on his chin, thinking about whether he should get Cecilas or a different kind of flower.

The longer Lohen took the thought, the more nervous she got. Was she doing okay? Were her recommendations good enough? Or was she about to get-

“I’ll take a bouquet of Cecilas, wrap them in (colour) paper.” Flora lets out a sigh of relief. She swore that if Lohen didn’t speak up by then, she would have gone crazy.

“Ye-yeah, sure thing!” Flora says as she starts carefully wrapping a bouquet of Cecilas. “H-Here you go!” She extends the bouquet towards Lohen.

“Thank you.” Lohen takes the bouquet from her hands before dropping a bag of mora on the desk and walking away.

Flora waited till Lohen was a good distance away before letting out a breath she didn’t realise she was holding. That was terrifying for poor little Flora. Her eyes fell onto the bag of mora lohen left behind. Hey, at least she got mora out of it.

— —

You were just minding your own business. The sun was setting which signals dinner time. You were starving after a full day of completing a bunch of commissions. Being an adventurer was definitely not for the weak.

You took a peak in your pantry, trying to figure out what to eat. Truth to be told, your pantry was kinda empty. Lately you’ve been so busy that you keep forgetting to do the groceries.

Rumble, rumble, rumble! There goes your stomach. You sigh and close the pantry door. You decide to open every cabinet in your kitchen, trying to find something to make for dinner. Gosh you never realised how urgently you needed to do grocery shopping till now.

You stood in the middle of your kitchen, looking absolutely helpless and starving for food.

Maybe you should just go out to eat today. The only problem is where do you go. Should you get food from good hunters or angel’s share? Urgh, why is deciding what to have for dinner so difficult?

Knock, knock, knock! Great, someone was at your door—another problem added to your list.

“Coming!” You yell while making your way to the door. Whoever was at your door came at the worst time. I mean who wants to deal with a hungry person? You’re absolutely starving and now someone is at your door for barbatos knows what!

You twist the knob of the front door, unintentionally slamming it open.

“Barbatos, what do you people want now? I’m already having a problem trying to figure out what to eat with an empty kitchen. Then you annoying people come along to bot-“ you pause in your words as you see who was at the door.

Lohen stood awkwardly outside your door, his eyes a little wide at your little tantrum. He looked pretty nervous with his cheeks flushed, the red was pretty obvious because of pale skin.

“Lohen….?” You mumble as your eyes dart down to the bouquet in his hands.

Lohen had this entire plan to ask you out for dinner. He had this whole script in his head to woo you and potentially capture your heart. I mean who wouldn’t fall in love with him? He was strong and handsome, he could protect you from anything!

But as you opened your door and started talking, Lohen suddenly forgot everything he was about to say. Your fiesty spirit was the last thing Lohen had expected, and he had to admit, you looked so hot like that.

“Oh- uh- y/n,” he stumbles, mentally slapping himself. “I-um-uhh.”

“Just spit it out, Lohen.” The hunger was really getting to you at this point.

“Will you go out to dinner with me, tonight?”

Your eyes go wide and so does Lohen’s. Looks like you both didn’t expect the words that came out of his mouth.

Lohen mumbles what sounds like a curse under his breath. His cheeks go even redder, if that was even possible. Lohen brought a hand to his cheek and he could feel the heat radiating off it even before his hand made contact with his skin.

You stared mindlessly at the flowers in his hand before staring at his face. Gosh, who gave him the right to look so damn fine even with a red face. So handsome and dreamy.

You let a small chuckle before taking the bouquet out of his hands, your hands brushing against his. “I’d love to, Lohen.”

Lohen stiffens as your hand brushes against yours. Act cool Lohen, this is not cool at all.

“Hahah… great!” He says while rubbing the back of his neck. “How does Good Hunter sound?”

“Great! I’m starving anyways,” you say while putting the bouquet into a very conveniently empty bouquet.

Lohen extends his hand to you, waiting for you to take his hand. “Great cause I was thinking after dinner we should spar!”