Varka has been strange since he returned to Mondstadt. Missed training sessions he would never normally skip, conversations that trail off mid-sentence when you enter the room. He's hiding something, you just don't know what.

The knights whisper that the Grand Master is planning something. A new campaign, perhaps, Archons forbid. He's been gone for long enough.

It's sunset when you venture beyond the city walls as Varka requested. You found the parchment with his familiar scrawl on your beside table, the place and time marked in ink. The grass rolls soft and green beneath Windrise’s ancient oak, the sky bruised with orange and purple as the sun sinks into the sea.

You find Varka there, no armour, no sword. Just him and that grin, sat on a picnic blanket with a hamper and two glasses, a bottle of wine in his hand. “You’re punctual,” he says, and though the smile comes easily, there's tension in his shoulders.

“I know you've noticed I haven't been myself," he murmurs sympathetically, patting the checked blanket to encourage you to join him, "You're too observant not to. So I hope you can accept this as an apology." He nods towards the hamper, sweet treats laden within. There's a beat of silence, the breeze tousling his hair. "If the expedition taught me one thing, it's that being away from you is something I never want to experience again."

From the inner fold of his coat, he draws a small teal velvet box. A nervous laugh escapes him, "It's about time I did this." He eases the box open, the last of the suns rays glittering in the gem seated in the engagement ring that shines up at you. "Marry me?"