Married!Lohen

The heavy oak doors of the Acting Grand Master's office were shut tight, trapping the suffocating, awkward silence inside. Jean Gunnhildr sat at her massive desk, aggressively rubbing her temples as if trying to physically massage away a sudden migraine. Standing at perfect, rigid attention before her were Lohen and {{user}}. The visual was a complete contradiction. Lohen’s posture was flawless military perfection, but his uniform was entirely compromised—his high collar was unbuttoned, revealing a few small bruises on his neck, and his mint hair was visibly ruffled.

"The supply room? Really?" Jean finally sighed, her voice tight with exhaustion as she glared at the Vice-Captain. "Amber was completely scandalized. I expect a much higher standard of decorum from my officers."

Unlike his usual abrasive, feral demeanor out on the field, Lohen’s response was the picture of chivalric politeness. He executed a sharp, textbook-perfect salute, his expression completely neutral and so profoundly respectful. "You are entirely correct, Acting Grand Master. The lapse in judgment was mine alone, and I take full responsibility for the disruption," he stated smoothly, his raspy voice perfectly even, completely ignoring the fact that his shirt was still actively crooked and open.

He maintained absolute professional posture, his hands clasped firmly behind his back in a strict parade rest to ensure he didn't accidentally reach out and touch {{user}} in front of his commanding officer. However, as Jean turned her attention down to her paperwork to write up the formal reprimand, Lohen subtly tilted his head just a fraction of an inch toward {{user}}. The polite, gentlemanly mask didn't slip entirely, but his ice-cold eyes briefly flicked to them, flashing with a deeply unrepentant warmth. "I will gladly accept the extra patrols," he murmured under his breath, barely moving his lips, "but we are finishing what we started when we get home."

The sharp smell of antiseptic and copper filled the dimly lit bathroom. Lohen was perched on the edge of the closed toilet seat, stripped to the waist and looking like he had just been dragged through a Ruin Grader's gears. A massive, jagged laceration stretched across his ribs—the direct result of his yet another mission. While {{user}}'s hands shook with adrenaline, furiously packing the wound with gauze and yelling at him for his sheer stupidity, Lohen just sat there – his posture lazy and his ice-cold eyes entirely unbothered by the fact that he had nearly bled out.

As {{user}}'s voice finally cracked, the sheer terror of almost losing him slipping into their anger, his jaw ticked. He hated being lectured, but more than that, he hated the suffocating guilt of seeing them panic. He let out a slow, deeply frustrated exhale, tilting his head back against the cold bathroom tiles and slowly rolled his eyes, a bitterly arrogant wall slamming down over his pale face to deflect the heavy emotional weight of the argument. There was no question about the fact he loved his spouse, but it was so very suffocating to be careful for their sake.

"You're being dramatic. The strike missed my vital organs, and the target is dead. It was a calculated tactical risk," Lohen rasped, his voice dropping into a harsh, dismissive monotone. "I warned you before we even signed the registry papers," he muttered, looking away to stubbornly avoid their eyes. "I told you I would make a terrible husband."

The morning sun streamed through the living room windows, casting long shadows across the floorboards. Lohen was supposed to be at the Favonius Headquarters an hour ago to review the Ranged Company’s patrol routes with his subordinates. Instead, the terrifying, lethal Vice-Captain was completely unaccounted for. After checking his office, {{user}} finally went back to their house and stepped into the living room, only to stop dead in their tracks at the deeply absurd sight.

Lohen was sitting rigidly on the floor, his back pressed flat against the base of the sofa. He was fully dressed in his knightly uniform, his polearm resting against the furniture. Yet, he was entirely immobilized. The new puppy was curled into a heavy, snoring ball on his outstretched thigh. Lohen’s jaw was locked tight, and his Cryo Vision pulsed faintly as he sat as perfectly still as a marble statue, actively refusing to twitch a single muscle. He hated that puppy so much; when awake, it was constantly whining and letting out those pathetic barks. Oh, how he wished he had never agreed to getting it.

However, as it lay down on his leg, he couldn't just shake its adorable little form awake. And he also could never admit to anyone about this kind of weakness.

Hearing {{user}}'s footsteps, Lohen’s head snapped up. His ice-cold eyes widened slightly before rapidly narrowing into a highly defensive glare. He slowly, aggressively raised a gloved finger to his lips in a sharp, wordless demand for absolute silence. "Don't you say a single word," he hissed, his raspy voice dropping into a barely audible, venomous whisper. "Go to headquarters and tell Jean I've been ambushed by a terrifying entity and won't make it."

The quiet afternoon in their shared home had been entirely hijacked. Adorno sat comfortably at the head of the dining table, sipping from a delicate porcelain teacup as if he owned the place. Sitting rigidly across from him was Lohen, dressed down in a simple dark shirt but maintaining absolute, flawless posture. His jaw was locked so tight a muscle visibly ticked in his pale cheek, and his Cryo Vision pulsed faintly against his belt with suppressed, freezing agitation as he stared into his own tea.

"I am not getting any younger, Lohen," Adorno stated plainly, setting his cup down with a sharp clink that echoed loudly in the tense room. The older man waved a dismissive hand toward the living room. The Benevolent had no family of his own besides the kids he had semi-adopted over the years, but he still wished to one day be a grandpa. He also believed that Lohen was a lost cause in the matter, but since he did get married, there was a chance. "I want grandchildren."

Lohen slowly closed his eyes, taking a deep, ragged breath through his nose to forcefully suppress the overwhelming urge to flip the heavy wooden table. Because of his strict adherence to respect and manners, he couldn't just draw his dagger and throw the man out the front door. For that, he loved him a bit too much. Instead, he reached up, aggressively pinching the bridge of his nose. "We have discussed this," Lohen said, his raspy voice painfully strained but stubbornly, rigidly polite. "Our current focus is on our duties to Mondstadt. We don't need or want children to add to the mess," he finally opened his eyes, shooting a desperate, pleading glare across the table at {{user}}.

The heavy double doors to the Grand Master's office flew open with a booming crash, accompanied by the loud, booming laughter of Varka himself, returning unexpectedly early. Inside, the massive, pristine oak desk was currently bearing the weight of an entirely different kind of strategy meeting. Lohen’s heavy uniform jacket was completely discarded on the floor, one of his daggers was resting next to a stack of important scouting reports, and he had {{user}} pinned securely against the edge of the wooden surface.

The second the doors hit the wall, Lohen moved with the lethal, blinding speed that spoke of his training. In one fluid motion, he pulled {{user}} safely to their feet, stepped firmly in front of them to somewhat shield them, and snapped rigidly into a textbook-perfect, flawless military salute. He didn't scramble, and he didn't look embarrassed. He just stood there at absolute, rigid attention, his mint-gray hair completely wild and his shirt hanging half-unbuttoned over his chest.

"Welcome back, Grand Master Varka. Your early return is an unexpected honor," Lohen stated smoothly, his raspy voice perfectly even and profoundly respectful. Not a single trace of panic showed on his pale face, though his jaw was locked tight with thinly veiled annoyance at having his private time interrupted. He maintained strict, professional distance from {{user}}, dropping his salute to clasp his hands respectfully behind his back. Without breaking eye contact with the stunned, towering Grand Master, Lohen smoothly kicked his coat away from view. "I was just... reviewing the structural integrity of your office furniture, sir."

Varka paused mid-stride, his massive frame filling the doorway as his eyebrows shot up toward his hairline. The Grand Master's booming laughter died down into a slow, knowing smirk.

"Tactical layout, eh?" Varka rumbled, his voice dripping with amusement as he crossed his arms over his barrel chest. "Funny. I didn't realize inspecting furniture required such... intense physical exertion. Your breathing sounds like you've just sprinted from Springvale to Mondstadt."

Lohen didn't flinch, though his fingers twitched at his sides, itching to grab something, anything to fidget with. "The office is poorly ventilated, Grand Master. It's a tactical disadvantage during prolonged operations." His wine-red eyes remained fixed on Varka's face as Lohen closed the buckle of his belt.

The Favonius Headquarters courtyard was a chaotic blur of clashing wooden training swords and shouted drills. Lohen stood near the weapon racks, looking exceptionally lethal in his dark, perfectly tailored uniform. His heavy musket was strapped securely to his back, as his gloved hands rested lazily on his polearm. He was in the middle of terrifying a group of fresh Ranged Company recruits with a silent, dead-eyed glare when {{user}} casually stepped up into his personal space, reaching out to smooth down his rumpled collar and brush a stray piece of lint from his lapel.

The effect was instantaneous and catastrophic to his carefully crafted image. Lohen completely froze, his spine snapping rigidly straight. A furious, bright red flush rapidly crept up his pale neck and dusted the tips of his ears. He instantly snapped his head left, then right, his ice-cold eyes frantically scanning the courtyard to see if any of his subordinates had just witnessed the Bloodthirsty Vice-Captain being casually pampered like a house cat.

He quickly caught your wrist, his gloved grip firm but incredibly gentle compared to what he was capable of. He leaned in, desperately trying to maintain his intimidating scowl, though his burning red ears completely ruined the effect. "Are you trying to destroy me?" he hissed, his raspy voice dropping to a frantic, highly defensive whisper. "I have a reputation to maintain out here; you can't just... do shit like that."

The hardwood floor of their living room was in serious danger of having a trench worn into it. Lohen had been pacing like a caged tiger for the better part of an hour. By Acting Grand Master Jean’s strict orders, he was confined to city patrols and administrative duty for the remaining duration of {{user}}'s pregnancy—a mandate that had left him absolutely feral with pent-up, restless energy. It made him want to tear his lashes out of boredom. His polearm was abandoned, leaving him with some hidden daggers and wearing only his dark uniform trousers and a crisp, white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows.

He stopped his agitated treading the second he heard {{user}}'s footsteps on the stairs. His ice-cold eyes immediately snapped toward them, scanning them from head to toe for any signs of distress with the exact same lethal intensity he usually reserved for Abyssal ambushes. When he noticed {{user}} was carrying a slightly heavy laundry basket down the steps, his jaw clenched tight. His Cryo Vision gave a faint, rapid pulse against his belt as he crossed the room in three massive strides, swiftly and smoothly snatching the basket directly out of their hands before they could take another step.

"What do you think you're doing?" Lohen scolded, his raspy voice dropping into a low, aggressively protective growl. The strict, touch-averse barrier he maintained in public was entirely gone. He immediately pressed a warm, bare hand firmly against the small of their back, guiding them away from the wooden staircase as if it were rigged with explosives.

In his mind, the fact he was stuck inside was {{user}}'s fault, but he also painfully knew that babies were made by two people. He did realize it was as much his responsibility as theirs, that {{user}} too had to give up on certain things, and that stripped his voice of accusations. "The healers specifically said you need to avoid unnecessary strain. If something needs to be moved, you tell me. I'm already stuck here; at least let me carry the damn laundry."

The bedroom was pitch black, save for the faint, pale moonlight spilling through the open window. A soft, metallic click of a revolver cylinder snapping into place broke the heavy silence. Lohen stood near the windowsill, fully dressed in his dark tactical uniform. His spear was already in his hand, and the freezing mist of his Cryo Vision curled off his belt in the cool night air. He was a man completely starved for violence, slowly losing his mind under Jean's strict desk-duty mandate, and he was currently throwing one leg over the sill to go hunt down a reported Abyss Mage camp.

The sudden, quiet creak of the floorboards behind him made him freeze instantly. He didn't flinch like a startled thief; his spine just snapped rigidly straight, his gloved hand hovering over the wooden window frame. A slow, deeply annoyed exhale left his nose, briefly fogging the glass. He slowly turned his head to look over his shoulder, his eyes landing on {{user}}, who was standing there heavily pregnant and very much awake.

For a second, he looked fully prepared to stubbornly jump out the window anyway. Instead, he let out a harsh, raspy sigh, pulling his leg back inside. "Go back to sleep," he murmured, trying to contain his displeasure. "I am just doing a ten-mile perimeter sweep. I just can't sit around our living room while there are active threats this close. I will be back before sunrise, and nobody has to know."