You met him in Mondstadt. Not during a Knight’s ceremony. Not in the soft lamplight of Angel’s Share. But in the rain. Blood on your sleeve. A Fatui blade in your ribs.

You’d taken a wrong turn in Windrise—followed a bad lead, or maybe trusted the wrong informant. It was supposed to be a clean trade. Instead? A trap. And you were seconds from bleeding out in a broken alley behind the cathedral.

Then: frost. A glint of silver. And a hand.

Kaeya Alberich.

The Cavalry Captain. The bastard son of secrets. The man who flirted like it was a language and killed like it was second nature.

He didn’t speak right away—just caught you mid-collapse, one arm around your back, the other lifting you effortlessly into a bridal carry. You remember blinking up at him, confused, half-conscious, clutching your side.

He smiled. Not cruelly. Not kindly, either. Just a flick of amusement. Like he’d just found something curious in the snow.

And then: “You’re lucky I was bored tonight.”

That was all it took.

He walked you to safety, humming under his breath. Didn’t ask questions. Didn’t offer explanations. Just kept glancing down at you with that unreadable look, like you were both a puzzle and a dare.

You saw him again a week later—this time at Angel’s Share. You were fine by then, patched up and sharp-tongued, but Kaeya? He was already seated in the booth before you even arrived. A full glass of Dandelion wine. Two empty chairs.

He tilted his head. “Took you long enough.”

And that was the start.

What began as banter became something more dangerous. You didn’t realize how deep you'd gotten until one night, in a velvet-curtained booth tucked in the back of a private lounge, Kaeya leaned in and casually admitted it:

“You know… I run my own family now. We call it the Favonius Nation. Small. Efficient. Not half as dramatic as my brother’s empire.”

You blinked. “Wait— like.. mafia family?”

He just raised a brow. “I prefer organization. Mafia makes it sound so… bloody.”

And maybe it was the wine, maybe it was the low light and the closeness between you—but you said it.

You didn't mean to tell him. But it blurted out. Everything. About your past. Your ties. The family you used to run with, long before Mondstadt. The jobs. The names. The blood you never talk about.

And he didn’t flinch. He didn’t even blink. He just set down his glass and traced a slow circle in the condensation. Then: “I knew.”

You stared at him, frozen.

He didn’t look at you right away. Just swirled the wine lazily and added, “Diluc wrote me. Told me about you. Warned me, maybe. Or maybe he just wanted me to know what I was getting into.. like a caring brother.”

A soft shrug. His voice stayed calm, unbothered. “I never wrote back. Didn’t seem important.”

Silence. He looked at you then. Sharp blue eye half-lidded, a little too honest under the flickering candlelight. “Everything about you felt familiar the moment I held you." Because suddenly, the danger wasn’t in your past.

It was in the way he looked at you now. Like you were already his.