might be a little ooc, i'm trying to get used to this character <3
The afternoon sun filtered through the ancient boughs of the great oak at Windrise, casting beautiful, dappled shadows across the soft grass. The gentle rustle of the leaves and the distant lap of the tides created a perfect, tranquil symphony. A true blessing to the ears.
You stretched your arms over your head, letting out a contented sigh as you leaned back against the gnarled bark of a prominent root. The task Grand Master Jean had assigned you earlier, of clearing out a troublesome slime nesting ground, had been a breeze.
The slimes had been terrorizing local merchants and adventurers for weeks, but you had dispersed them so efficiently that you barely even broke a sweat. Now, with your duties officially concluded, you figured you earned the right to bask in the Mondstadt breeze and do absolutely nothing for the rest of the day.
Your peace, however, was of notoriously short lasting.
"I thought I smelled slacking off from a mile away."
You didn't even need to open your eyes to know who the voice belonged to. A shadow fell over your face, blocking out the warm rays of sunlight you had been enjoying just moments prior.
Slowly, you cracked one eye open, squinting up at Lohen. He was standing over you, still looking thoroughly energized at this time of day. His clothes bore the faint, telltale dust of a recent scuffle, and he was casually resting his weight on one foot.
"I just finished wiping out a Hilichurl camp over the ridge," Lohen continued. "I figured I'd head back to the city, but then I spy a certain someone completely lazing around instead of reporting back to the Knights. Jean really needs to raise her standards for field agents."
You rolled your eyes, letting your head drop back against the tree root with an exaggerated groan. "Give it a rest, Lohen," you muttered, shooing him away with a lazy wave of your hand. "The slimes are gone, the civilians are safe, and I am officially off the clock. Go bother Varka or someone. Let me enjoy the sun."
"Off the clock, eh? In the middle of the day?" Lohen chuckled, a sharp, dangerous glint flashing in his eyes.
Before you could even blink, there was a sudden, swift rush of displaced air. The sharp tip of a polearm blade dropped into your field of vision, stopping a mere inch away from the center of your forehead.
You froze, your eyes tracking up the gleaming length of the weapon to Lohen’s face. He was leaning forward, gripping the shaft of the polearm with effortless control, while looking down at you from above with a challenge dancing in his gaze.
"You've got plenty of energy left if you're talking back," Lohen said, his voice dropping into a low, teasing purr. "Come on. Up on your feet. Spar with me."
You stared at the gleaming tip of the blade, entirely unbothered by the threat of violence but deeply annoyed by the threat to your afternoon nap. Slowly, you raised two fingers and tapped the flat of his polearm, pushing it just an inch to the side so you could look him dead in the eye.
"Lohen, I say this with the utmost respect for your martial prowess: absolutely not," you said, leaning your head back against the bark. "The sun is shining, the breeze is perfect, and I have achieved a state of total inner peace. Do you know how hard that is to come by? Go find a Ruin Guard to poke."
"The Ruin Guards don't parry as well as you do," Lohen replied, not budging an inch. The weapon remained poised, like a physical manifestation of his pesky stubbornness. "And 'no' isn't an option on the table today."
"It's a perfectly valid option! It's a complete sentence, actually," you argued, crossing your arms and glaring up at him. "Besides, we are professional colleagues. We shouldn't be tearing up the fields, yeah? If Vennessa's tree gets damaged because you wanted to play with sticks, Jean will have both our heads."
Lohen let out a low laugh, the tip of his blade twitching playfully. "Nice try, nice try, but the tree will survive. And we're not just 'colleagues' when it comes to this. We have unfinished business." He leaned in a fraction closer, his grin widening. "One to one, should it have slipped your silly mind. You took the first match, I took the second. We're tied. We need a third to finally settle who actually commands the field."
You groaned loudly, covering your face with your hands. "Who even cares? Let's just say you're stronger. There, congratulations, you win. Go celebrate at the Angel's Share."
"No way. A conceded victory tastes like cheap cider," Lohen scoffed, pulling the polearm back just enough to twirl it once with a flashy, effortless flick of his wrist before planting the butt of the shaft firmly into the dirt. "You will fight me. And to make sure you actually put some effort into it instead of throwing the match just to go back to sleep... let's raise the stakes."
You peeked through your fingers, instantly regretting it. The look on his face promised nothing but trouble. "I don't like the sound of that."
"The winner gets a free pass," Lohen declared, a wicked, mischievous glint in his eyes. "A free pass to sprinkle salt into the wounds of the loser."
Your jaw dropped slightly. "Are you insane? Literally? Like, agonizing salt-in-the-actual-cuts salt? Or the metaphorical, ego-crushing kind?" You knew Lohen had a penchant for crazy nonsense, but being pulled right into it was a whole different can of worms.
"Whichever one hurts more in the moment," he replied smoothly.
An intense wave of reluctance washed over you. The thought of exerting yourself right now made your bones ache, and the thought of Lohen holding a literal or metaphorical shaker of salt over your head for the next week was deeply unappealing. But as you stared at his smug, unyielding expression, a grim realization set in.
If you refused, he wouldn't just walk away for sure. He would escalate, for Archon's sake. He'd probably drag you back by your boots, or camp out outside your window, or think of a penalty tenfold worse than a little salt. The only way out of a Lohen-induced headache was straight through it.
With a heavy, dramatic sigh that carried all the misery of a condemned soul, you uncrossed your arms and planted your hands on the grass to push yourself up.
"You are a walking migraine," you muttered, pushing yourself to your feet and brushing the stray blades of grass from your clothes. Your posture finally shifted from lazy lounging to a sharp readiness. Perhaps it would do him well to be kicked into the dirt for once. A dangerous little spark lit up in your own eyes as you leveled a glare at him. "But fine. If you're that eager to lose your tie-breaker..."
With a sharp exhale, you reached out your hand. Your Vision flared to life at your belt, and in a brisk flash of light, your weapon materialized into your grip.
The massive blade was a terrifying piece of craftsmanship, and despite its immense weight, you caught it effortlessly. You twirled the heavy weapon, letting it cut through the air with a low, menacing whoosh-whoosh that caused the grass beneath your feet to flatten. Your handling of your weapon was absolutely flawless, always had been, a smooth display of strength that contrasted beautifully with your earlier laziness. Poke the bear and feel its wrath, or whatever.
The moment you settled your grip firmly onto the handle, your eyes locked onto Lohen. You knew better than to let your own skill make you arrogant in the face of an opponent. Especially now. Lohen was a wolf in human skin on the battlefield. He was unpredictable, blindingly fast, and an opponent you should absolutely never underestimate.
"Nice toy you got there," Lohen remarked, his smile sharpening as he watched your little display. He didn't look intimidated in the slightest; if anything, the sight of your weapon only made his grip on his polearm tighten with thrill and anticipation.
"Save the flattery for after you're eating dirt," you retorted, your tone now holding the cold focus of a seasoned combatant.
The stage was set, and granted, the stakes were entirely ridiculous, but neither of you had any intention of losing.
You didn't wait for him to open the attack. With a nearly explosive burst of speed, you lunged forward, your heavy blade slicing a lethal arc through the air, aiming for Lohen's shoulder.
It was no secret within the Knights of Favonius, that your style in battle was a masterclass in textbook precision and proper honor on the battlefield. It was a beautiful, admirable way to wield a weapon.
Unfortunately against Lohen, it was your greatest flaw.
Lohen didn’t care about honor, textbook forms, or fighting fair. If anything, he was beyond underhanded. As your weapon came crashing down in a strike that would have cleaved a lesser opponent in two, Lohen didn’t parry. Instead, he kicked up a blinding spray of loose dirt and gravel straight into your face.
You hissed, your eyes stinging as you instinctively blinked. In that split second of blurred vision, Lohen was already gone from your front. He slipped into your blind spot, utilizing the shaft of his polearm not to strike, but to violently hook behind your ankle.
With a sharp yank, he threw you off balance. You tried to recover, swinging your blade backward to force him away, but Lohen was already shifting weights. He used the momentum of your own heavy weapon against you, stepping on the flat of your blade as it passed and pinning it to the ground, before slamming the blunt butt of his polearm hard into your midsection.
The breath knocked out of you and you stumbled back, hitting the grass hard. Before you could even attempt to push yourself up, the cold, sharp tip of Lohen’s blade was resting right against your throat.
Silence fell over the plain, save for your heavy breathing.
"Yield," Lohen said, his voice devoid of the winded exhaustion you were currently feeling.
You let your head fall back onto the grass, your Vision dimming as your weapon dissolved into particles of light. "I yield," you choked out, your voice dripping with chagrin.
As the adrenaline began to fade, a cold dread pooled in your stomach. The salt. You had actually lost the tie-breaker, and now you were entirely at his mercy. Lohen was going to make your life an absolute living hell, and you had willingly walked right into it.
Lohen retracted his polearm, spinning it once before letting it vanish. He stood over you, looking down with a sharp, almost taunting smirk playing on his lips. He didn't offer you a hand up. Instead, he crossed his arms and let out a venomous, little snicker.
"Wow. I'm almost disappointed," Lohen taunted, his tone biting. "Are you really this incompetent? Or do you just choose to ignore basic survival instincts? You saw me shifting my weight, and you still swung like a blind Hilichurl. It's like you wanted to eat dirt."
The insult stung worse than the dirt in your eyes. Your cheeks flushed a furious crimson. Immediately, you bolted upright, glaring at him with pure rage as you scrambled to your feet.
"I fight with dignity, you absolute cheat!" you snapped, your voice rising in anger. "You kicked dirt in my eyes! Who does that in a proper spar?! That wasn't a test of strength, Lohen, that was just you being a miserable, underhanded rat! If you actually fought like a real Knight instead of a street thug, I would have taken your head off!"
Lohen’s smirk softened a little, shifting into something slightly different. But it was something worse. His expression became insufferably patronizing. He took a step closer, raising his hands in a faux-conciliatory gesture, tilting his head with an expression of fake sympathy.
"Oh, come on, don't get your feelings hurt," Lohen said, his voice dropping into a soothing, yet utterly condescending purr. He reached out, lightly patting your head as if comforting a crying child. "Hey, look at me. You did your best. Really, you did. It's not your fault you're burdened by all those silly little rules in that pretty head of yours."
You promptly swatted his hand away, but Lohen just chuckled, continuing his mock-consolation.
"I'm just trying to help you realize your mistakes, darling. If you weren't so stubborn about your 'honor,' you wouldn't be standing here with dirt on your face, would you?" He sighed dramatically, shaking his head. "It's tragic, really. You have all that raw power, but you simply won't use it properly. But hey, don't worry. I'll be sure to remind you of it every single day. Starting with that salt I mentioned..."
Long after the sun had started dipping lower into the horizon, it casted long, orange shadows across the floor of Lohen’s private quarters. The room smelled faintly of old parchment and anticeptic.
Lohen sat at his heavy wooden desk, leaning back in his chair with his legs slightly spread. You were positioned right between his thighs. He had his chin resting comfortably on your shoulder, his breath warm against your neck, while a mild, though thoroughly amused grin played on his lips.
"Hold still," he murmured.
With agonizing slowness, Lohen pressed a pinch of salt into one of your cuts with his thumb. You flinched, the small, white crystals stinging instantly as they hit the third shallow cut he had uncovered from your scuffle. It was a sharp, biting hiss of a sensation, but Lohen wasn't done. Before you could even pull away, his fingers wrapped a layer of clean gauze tightly over the wound, trapping the fiery burn right beneath the cloth.
He was enjoying this greatly, taking his sweet time with every wrap. You, on the other hand, were a ball of pure, anxious tension. You stared straight ahead, your jaw clenched so hard it already ached, while your leg bopped up and down rapidly against the floor.
As he snipped the end of the bandage and tucked it in, you let out a ragged breath. You leaned forward slightly, holding your wrapped arm against your chest.
"Lohen, please," you muttered, your voice strained and entirely stripped of its usual sharp edge. "Just stop. You won, I get it. The score is settled."
Lohen didn't move his chin from your shoulder. He simply let out a low, calm hum that vibrated against your shoulder and collarbone. "Now, now. We agreed on the stakes. And a deal's a deal." His hands slid down your forearm on the other side, his grip firm but unhurried as he rotated it slightly to inspect the inner skin near your elbow. "Look at that. There's still one more left."
You squeezed your eyes shut. "Lohen, seriously-"
Before you could finish the protest, he dipped three fingers back into the small bowl of salt and let it rain down on your cut.
This last cut was deeper than the others, a slightly uneven slice from when you had hit the dirt, and the moment the salt hit the raw tissue, a blinding, white-hot spike of agony shot straight up your arm. The sheer, unexpected intensity of the burn caught you off guard. A sharp gasp hitched in your throat, and despite your absolute best efforts to remain stoic, the intense sting forced involuntary tears straight into your eyes, blurring your vision.
You froze, your fingers curling into fists as you tried not to let out a whimper from the ridiculous, self-inflicted torture.
Seeing the wetness gather in the corner of your eye, Lohen finally relented. The smug, teasing grin softened just a fraction, replaced by a certain satisfaction. He wrapped the final bandage, securing it tightly to dull the throbbing ache, before pushing the bowl of salt away on the desk with a soft clink.
"There. All done," he said softly.
You let out a shaky breath, keeping your head turned away so he wouldn't see the tears tracking down your cheeks. But Lohen wasn't finished.
With a surprisingly gentle movement, he reached down and took your bandaged hand in his. He lifted your arm, bringing your knuckles up to his lips. He kept his eyes locked on your profile and planted a soft, lingering, and undeniably loving kiss against the back of your hand, right over the skin he had just spent the last twenty minutes tormenting.
"You did well, bunny," he murmured against your skin, his tone a strange, intoxicating combination of genuine affection and lingering victory. "Next time, remember to watch your flanks though."
