Chapter Text
The Wild Hunt appeared three days before the blizzard.
Before reaching the ravines of eastern Nod-Krai, the creatures had already torn through two frontier settlements near the frozen cedar forests bordering the old trade roads. Refugees spoke of black silhouettes moving between the trees during whiteout conditions, entire hunting lodges found abandoned with doors left hanging open and blood frozen into the snow.
A Lightkeeper relay station stationed near the northern cliffs stopped transmitting entirely after sending one final message describing “breathing noises outside the walls.” By the time surviving scouts confirmed the Hunt’s direction, entire sections of the frontier had already collapsed into panic.
In Nod-Krai, that alone was enough to make entire settlements evacuate before nightfall. The beyond the frontier forts had already gone silent, patrol routes abandoned one after another as corrupted wild beasts crawled out from the dark forests in growing numbers. Reports spread quickly through both the Knights of Favonius expedition camps and the Lightkeeper outposts stationed deeper in the territory.
Villages burned. Supply caravans vanished. Patrol teams returned half their original size—if they returned at all. Survivors described hearing scratching beneath the walls long before attacks began, as though the Wild Hunt moved underneath the snow itself. Entire livestock pens were found emptied overnight without a single corpse left behind.
In one settlement, the church bell rang continuously until dawn despite nobody being alive inside to pull the rope. Fear spread faster than the storms did, and every passing day made the frontier feel less like inhabited land and more like territory already claimed by something waiting in the dark.
So naturally, the Lightkeepers and the Knights were forced into another temporary alliance. Lohen thought the entire operation would be unbearably dull. He stood near the ridge overlooking the ravine, lazily spinning his knife in one hand while the ranged company prepared behind him. Winds whipped violently through the air, stinging exposed skin beneath the hood of his winter cloak. Several knights loaded crossbows and some with riffles while others checked powder cartridges for the portable muskets shipped from Fontaine.
Below the ridge, Lightkeepers moved through the land with far less organization and far more aggression.
Lohen snorted quietly. One Lightkeeper was sharpening a blade while actively walking through a minefield marker as if basic survival instincts were optional. Another was laughing while dragging a wounded Wild Hunt carcass toward camp for “research purposes,” despite the thing still twitching.
“They look unstable,” one of the younger knights muttered nervously to an older rifleman while tightening his grip around the stock of his weapon. The older knight wisely pretended not to hear him.
“They are unstable,” Lohen replied. “That’s why they survive out here.”
At the center of the Lightkeeper formation stood their captain.
Illuga.
Lohen recognized him immediately even before introductions were made. There were rumors about him everywhere in Nod-Krai already. Wild Hunt survivor. Nightmare Orioles captain. Calm. Kind. Efficient. Determined. And most of all, difficult to kill.
Some stories called him reckless because he regularly volunteered for missions even veteran Lightkeepers avoided, including escort routes through active corruption zones and rescue operations during blizzards severe enough to freeze exposed skin within minutes. There were reports of Illuga returning from patrols half-dead while carrying injured squadmates over his shoulders instead of abandoning them.
Others called him cursed because the Wild Hunt seemed unnaturally drawn toward him. Entire attacks had reportedly changed direction after sensing his presence, and more than one survivor swore the corrupted beasts became significantly more violent whenever Illuga entered the battlefield. Some even whispered that the captain had already died once and simply refused to stay that way.
Lohen took one look at the man standing in the middle of the field below and immediately understood why people talked.
Illuga carried himself like someone permanently braced for violence. His coat hung heavy with dirt and old damage, the fur around the collar dusted white with snow. A geo vision glowed faintly near his belt while he spoke sharply to several Lightkeepers adjusting defensive barricades.
Then one of the scouts screamed, “MOVEMENT IN THE TREE LINE—LEFT SIDE, LEFT SIDE!” The scout nearly slipped down the snowy incline while pointing frantically toward the forest as shadows began tearing between the trees at impossible speed.
Somewhere deeper within the woods, something enormous let out a distorted howl that shook loose snow from the cliffsides.
The Wild Hunt arrived all at once. Not as an organized assault, but as a living avalanche of corrupted flesh crashing through the forest with enough force to flatten smaller trees. The temperature dropped violently the moment they emerged, cold air rushing across the battlefield alongside the stench of wet blood and decay.
The tree line exploded into movement as malformed creatures burst from the forest, bodies twisted together wrong beneath layers of blackened fur and exposed bone. The sound they made barely resembled living animals anymore. Some moved on too many limbs. Others dragged themselves through the ground while shrieking loud enough to echo against the cliffs.
“CONTACT!” one of the Favonius commanders shouted toward the ranged units positioned behind the ridge defenses.
Crossbows fired instantly in tightly coordinated volleys, bolts hissing through the snowstorm fast enough to blur through the air before punching into charging creatures below. Muskets erupted a second later with deafening cracks, smoke and sparks exploding across the ridge line.
The first wave dropped before reaching the ridge, bolts piercing skulls and limbs, but more replaced them immediately.
Lohen grinned.
Finally.
He vaulted off the ridge before anyone could stop him.
“Vice Captain—?!” a knight yelped.
The omega landed directly in the middle of the battlefield, spear slamming through the jaw of a charging beast hard enough to split its skull apart. Before the corpse even hit the ground he ripped the weapon free and drove it backward into another creature lunging from behind.
Blood sprayed across the snow.
Lohen laughed under his breath. This was the only thing in the world that consistently quieted his mind.
The Wild Hunt beasts were fast, vicious, endless—and none of them mattered once he started moving. He cut through them like a projectile fired straight through the battlefield, never staying still long enough to be surrounded.
Then he saw Illuga fight for the first time.
A massive beast crashed through the Lightkeeper line, large enough to scatter several soldiers at once. One of the younger Lightkeepers stumbled backward directly into its path.
Illuga moved instantly.
Geo erupted beneath the creature’s legs, forcing it off balance just long enough for Illuga to drive his spear through the underside of its jaw. At the same moment, a bird formed from glowing kuvaki energy swooped overhead—Aedon. The spectral creature slammed directly into the beast’s face with a shriek of burning energy, distracting it long enough for Illuga’s strike to land cleanly. The impact alone was brutal enough to crack bone.
But the captain didn’t stop there. He physically dragged the wounded Lightkeeper behind him while blocking another attack with his own body, then slammed a geo construct upward beneath the creature’s chest hard enough to launch it sideways into the ravine wall.
The cliff shook from the sheer impact, cracks splintering through frozen stone as loose snow cascaded down the ravine sides. Several nearby Wild Hunt creatures lost their footing entirely as the ground tremored beneath them. The launched monster crumpled against the rock with enough force to cave part of its ribcage inward before collapsing motionless into the snow.
Lohen stopped moving for exactly one second.
Oh no.
The realization hit with horrifying clarity.
Alpha.
Not the typical ones who barked orders from behind defensive lines while expecting everyone else to bleed for them. Not the arrogant frontier officers who relied entirely on status and instinct to command respect. Illuga fought beside his people instead of above them, and somehow that made him infinitely worse for Lohen’s already deteriorating sanity.
A competent one who led not through words but through actions, an Alpha who stood between monsters and his squad without hesitation, someone willing to give everything they had before asking the same from anyone else.
Oh Barbatos… he smells!…Illuga smelled…god he smelled good!!
Pine amber and vanilla…but most of all!
That scent hidden beneath his coat…the smell of wild hunt blood! Carnage and lingering death!!. It made Lohen almost drool!
Lohen stared at Illuga through the rainfall while the Illuga had barked orders at nearby Lightkeepers, completely unaware that someone across the battlefield had just developed a life-changing problem.
A Wild Hunt beast lunged at Lohen from the side. Without looking away from Illuga, he stabbed it clean through the skull.
“…I’m doomed,” he muttered, because attraction was already bad enough, but developing it toward a competent Alpha during an active Wild Hunt campaign felt like the beginning of a catastrophic personal downfall.
“What?” one of the knights shouted from behind him while desperately reloading his musket with shaking hands.
“Nothing,” Lohen said, Unfortunately, it was absolutely not nothing.
The battle lasted another hour. By the end of it, the snow had turned black with ash and blood while surviving Wild Hunt creatures retreated into the forests. The joint forces regrouped near the temporary encampment. Lohen should have been helping the medics.
Instead he watched Illuga from across the campfire like a man possessed. The alpha sat beside several injured Lightkeepers while quietly repairing damage to his spear with practiced movements.
One of his squadmates attempted to hand him a medical kit only for Illuga to immediately redirect it toward someone else with worse injuries.
Even exhausted, he prioritized his people first. The simple act should not have been as attractive as it was, yet somehow watching Illuga ignore his own injuries to take care of others made Lohen feel dangerously close to losing whatever remained of his self-control.
Lohen was going insane.
“You’re staring,” one of the Favonius knights whispered.
“I know,” Lohen replied while resting his chin lazily against one gloved hand, eyes still completely locked onto Illuga across the fire.
“…That’s the Lightkeeper captain,” the knight added carefully while bandaging his own arm.
“I know.” Lohen didn’t even blink.
“…Are you planning something?” the knight asked.
Lohen slowly smiled.
“Yes.”
The knight looked terrified immediately because every single time Lohen smiled like that, someone nearby usually suffered emotional damage, property destruction, or both.
That night, Lohen spent nearly two hours assembling the perfect gift. If Illuga was a frontline captain constantly fighting the Wild Hunt, then practical items would be best. Efficient. Useful. Reliable.
Just like him.
Lohen gathered high-quality weapon oil imported through Mondstadt trade routes, replacement whetstones durable enough for Nod-Krai conditions, insulated grip wrappings, and a custom maintenance kit designed specifically for spear users operating in Nod Krai climates.
It was expensive.
Thoughtful.
And dangerously close to omega courting behavior.
Perfect.
The next morning, Lohen found Illuga near the outer barricades checking patrol reports.
“You’re alive,” Illuga said immediately without looking up from the papers, one hand absently brushing dirt off the map spread across a supply crate.
Lohen blinked once, folding his arms loosely. “…That’s your greeting?”
“You charged directly into a Wild Hunt swarm yesterday,” Illuga replied flatly.
Lohen tilted his head with exaggerated innocence, boots crunching softly against the snow as he stepped closer.
“And?”
Illuga finally looked up, brows lowering slightly in genuine confusion at the question. “People usually die doing that.”
Lohen felt something warm and violent bloom in his chest.
Disastrous.
“I brought you something,” he said instead, handing over the kit.
Illuga frowned slightly before opening it and Lohen watched carefully for a reaction.
Recognition? Interest? Attraction? Understanding….?
Illuga stared at the contents for several long seconds. Then he looked back up.
“…Did your Grandmaster Varka force you to distribute these?”
Silence.
Lohen’s smile twitched.
“No.”
“Hm.” Illuga examined one of the oil containers. “Good quality.”
“I picked it myself.”
“You should tell the supplier cheaper oil works almost the same.”
Lohen stared at him in disbelief. “That’s your response?”
“What response were you expecting?”
The omega nearly bit through his own tongue. “A better one,” Lohen said, nearly snarling.
Illuga looked genuinely confused by that statement. Then one of the younger Lightkeepers jogged over carrying damaged equipment.
“Captain, we’re short on maintenance supplies again.”
Illuga immediately handed over half the contents of Lohen’s carefully assembled gift.
“Use these for the eastern patrol weapons,” he said casually.
Lohen felt physical pain.
The Lightkeeper brightened instantly. “Seriously? Thanks, Captain!”
“No problem.” Illuga smiled, his scent sweet.
Lohen watched his courting gift disappear into the hands of random soldiers while Illuga returned to reading patrol reports like absolutely nothing devastating had just occurred.
The omega stood there silently for several seconds.
Then he turned around and walked directly into the snowstorm before he said something regrettable, may be do something he might regret.
Behind him, Illuga frowned faintly. The captain glanced once toward the retreating omega before looking down at the remaining supplies in his hands.
“…Why does he look offended?” Illuga asked honestly. One of the nearby Lightkeepers opened his mouth to answer, paused, then slowly decided preserving the captain’s ignorance was probably safer for everyone involved.