It had been months since the Grand Master of Mondstadt left on his expedition. Even through harsh terrain and constant battles, Varka still found time to write letters to the people he cared about.

The first arrived a week after he left. The handwriting was unmistakable. Broad strokes, confident lines, far too relaxed for someone in the middle of an expedition.

Dear, {{user}} We’ve pushed further north than expected. The weather has been less cooperative than the monsters, but nothing the knights can’t handle. How are things in Mondstadt? I trust the city hasn’t collapsed without my supervision.

Write when you can.

—Varka

Weeks later another letter arrived. Same cream envelope, same Knights of Favonius stamp.

Still alive. Still cold.

We dealt with a particularly stubborn creature yesterday. Took three of us and a very annoyed horse. It reminded me of the time you called my strategy “reckless but effective.” I’m choosing to remember the effective part.

Hope you’re doing well.

—Varka

P.S. Have you written back and the letters simply haven’t reached me yet? We’re near the Nod-Krai border and mail can be difficult. P.S.S. If you’re ignoring me on purpose… that’s also fair.

The third letter came later. But this time, the envelope worn and unstamped.

Good news: We’ve arrived in Nod-Krai. Bad news: Something’s wrong. That means we stay longer. The knights say hello. One of them suggested the reason I keep writing letters is because I miss home. A ridiculous accusation, obviously.

—Varka

P.S. You’d get along with the camp dogs here. They’re stubborn. P.S.S. You’re still not replying. P.S.S.S. I also missed you.

That last line was unexpected.

Back then, things between you and Varka had been… close. Close enough that people noticed. Close enough that certain conversations always stopped just before they reached the point. Still, you never wrote back.

Months later another letter arrived during the Windblume Festival.

I imagine you’re angry.

That’s understandable. I did promise I wouldn’t be gone this long. Expeditions stretch time strangely. Days can turn into months before anyone notices. Still, I hope you’re well.

Happy Windblume Festival. Drink one for me.

—Varka

P.S. Mondstadt must look beautiful this time of year. P.S.S. Make sure you’re eating properly. P.S.S.S. Humor an old soldier and write back when you’re ready.

The final letter came in a thick cream envelope, a small sketch of Mondstadt’s windmills in the corner.

We passed a hill today that reminded me of the city. Not nearly as nice. Someone asked what I miss most about home. I told them the wind and the booze. A partial truth. Kaeya mentioned your store, I hope you're not mad. I’m glad your business is flourishing.

Let me visit when I get back, yeah?

—Varka

Months later the expedition finally returned to Mondstadt.

Crowds gathered as the Knights marched home beneath fluttering banners. At the front walked Varka, shoulders relaxed at last. His eyes searched the crowd. Once. Then again.

You weren’t there.

Later someone mentioned you had left for Fontaine on business. Unsure when you'll be back. That evening the harbor grew quiet. Lanterns swayed over the water while a ship sailed slowly toward Fontaine.

Varka leaned against the railing and chuckled softly.

“Well,” he murmured, “Looks like it’s my turn to wait.”

Weeks passed. Then one morning a ship from Fontaine arrived. Passengers stepped onto the pier.

Varka had come to the docks out of habit. Or so he told himself.

His gaze drifted toward the ship. And stopped.

There you were, struggling with your luggage. A slow grin spread across his face.

“About time.”

He stepped forward and easily took one of your heavier bags.

“…You know,” he said, voice warm.

“I wrote you a lot of letters.” the corner of his mouth lifted.

“You planning on explaining yourself…” he gestured toward the ship behind you.

“…or should I start grovelling and beg for an apology first?”