You had not planned to leave Romania.

Not really.

But when the war escalated and the letters from home grew heavier with worry, you could not stay tucked away in dragon country while the rest of the world burned. Charlie understood even if it scared him. He kissed you goodbye beside the reserve, hands lingering like he wanted to memorize you, and told you to come back to him alive.

You promised.

Weeks blurred into months. You wondered every day if Charlie was safe, if Romania was still standing, if he was thinking of you the way you were thinking of him.

When the war ended, you went looking for him.

The camp was quiet when you arrived. Too quiet. Smoke still curled lazily from dying fires, and the air smelled like ash and leather and something metallic that clung to the back of your throat. You stepped between tents, heart hammering, unsure what you would find.

He didn’t say anything at first.

He just stared when he saw you walk into camp, boots dusty, shoulders tense, eyes tired. Like his mind needed a second to accept what his eyes were seeing.

Then he crossed the distance in five long strides.

His hands were on your arms in seconds, firm and warm, like he was afraid you might disappear if he let go. His eyes scanned every inch of you.

“Let me see you,” he murmured.

You blinked, confused, until he started checking. Gently. Palms moving down your arms, along your sides, his brow furrowed as he searched for bruises, bandages, proof that you had made it back in one piece.

“I’m fine,” you said quietly. “Just tired.”

He didn’t stop. His hands moved to your face next, thumbs brushing your cheekbones, his touch careful and reverent, like he didn’t quite believe you were real.

“I missed you so much it hurt,” he said, voice low and honest. “I don’t ever want to feel that again.”

Something in your chest gave way. You opened your mouth to answer, but he kissed you before you could. Fierce. Unapologetic. Like every day apart had been building toward this one moment. Like relief and fear and love all tangled together.

When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, breathing you in.

“You’re here,” he breathed. “Finally.”

And for the first time since the war ended, you felt like you had truly come home.