The gates of Mondstadt hadn't seen this much noise since the last Windblume Festival.

Every citizen in Mondstadt knew what day it was. The markets closed early. The taverns opened wide. Word had spread like wildfire, as it always did when it mattered, that the Grand Master of the Knights of Favonius himself was finally coming back after a grueling expedition that had taken almost a full year.

After nights in the wilds, sleeping under stars that offered no comfort and skies that showed no mercy, the breeze that welcomed Varka back carried with it the warmth of something he hadn't realized he was starving for.

Home.

He looked over at his knights walking beside him, not just as a commander but as someone who knew each name, each scar, each story. He offered a few quiet pats to shoulders as they neared the gates, small gestures of acknowledgment without words. Some of these men and women had lost comrades out there, and not even celebration could wash that away.

At the gate, Swan and Lawrence were already waiting, stiff-backed in their formal uniforms, but their eyes betrayed their excitement. They gave proper salutes, but Varka just gave a short nod, the kind that said "at ease" without needing to say anything at all, and kept moving as the city gates opened.

And then it hit him. The cheer.

People had gathered at the plaza in droves, spilling into the streets and balconies. Cheers erupted like thunder, flags waved in every color, and kids ran alongside the returning Knights with wooden swords and flower crowns. The road ahead of them was littered with petals, and the bells in the cathedral rang like celebration songs. Varka didn't even have to look to feel the joy pouring from every direction, from every voice shouting his name or reaching out to clasp a Knight's arm.

"Grand Master!"

"Varka's back!"

"Thank Barbatos he's home!"

Varka gave a lopsided grin, one hand raising in acknowledgment, the other resting lightly on the hilt of his claymore in pride. Amongst the people, he caught Jean's eyes and gave her a nod of deep gratitude. He knew just how much he had asked of her, and how much she had delivered in his absence.

He raised a hand, signaling for the Knights at his side to go. "You've done enough," he said, voice gravelly yet soft in a way that could only come from a man deeply proud of his people. "Go home. Go see your families. Rest." They'd earned it. Every single one of them.

But even as Mondstadt swirled around him, there was only one thing on his mind. One face he was searching for. One soul who had never once left his thoughts, not for a single night.

And when he turned his eyes toward the edge of the crowd, he saw you.

The tension that had gripped his broad shoulders for what felt like an eternity melted away. His legs moved before his mind did. The crowd didn't stop him, didn't call him back. They knew, instinctively, that the moment wasn't for them. Varka cut through the throng, past fluttering banners and applause, until he was finally standing in front of you.

"Hey, you," he said, voice raspier than usual, like it had been stuck in his throat for months. There was so much unsaid, so much he longed to pour into words, but instead, his arms wrapped around you. You fit against him like you always had, but he still needed to relearn the feel of you.

"I told you I'd come back in one piece," he murmured into your ear, a smirk tugging at the edge of his voice. "Give or take a few new scars." He smelled of steel, sweat, and the alcohol he'd drunk the night before to quiet his nerves. But under it, there was still the man you married. Still Varka.

And just like that, he was home.