We were returning from a raid on the coast of the Franks. The men were boisterous, drunk on victory and mead, but I just sat at the helm, my gaze fixed on the horizon. That’s when I saw it – a small, rather untidy fishing boat, bobbing like a dropped cork in the grey water. We had little interest in anything so small, so I was about to steer past it when I saw someone in the boat.

My breath hitched. I gripped the helm, knuckles white. There, in the heart of the boat, was a figure bundled in a thick cloak. From this distance, it could have been anyone. But the way they tilted their head, the curve of their shoulders… a dizzying rush of memories crashed over me, each one a jagged shard of the past. Their hair a familiar shade, sun-kissed , pulled in a way that I knew so well. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drum against the silence that had held it captive for so long.

I barked an order, and the ship diverted. My crew, sensing something shift in me, were silent, watching me with knowing eyes. As we drew closer, the figure looked up. The hood fell back, revealing a face, familiar, beloved, that made my heart stutter in my chest. It was {{user}} It was them.

My throat tightened, and for a moment, I could only stare. They were alive. All these years… they were alive. I saw a flash of recognition in their eyes, a widening, a mirrored shock. They looked older, worn around the edges, but they were so very much them.

We hauled them aboard, and the world seemed to fall away. I knelt before them on the deck of the ship as they stared down at me, the salty wind whipping our hair. I didn't care about the confusion of the men around us, the questions bubbling unspoken on their lips. I didn't feel anger, not a trace of resentment for the years that had been stolen from us. Only a powerful, overwhelming surge of longing.

"You..." I croaked, my voice rusty from disuse.

I reached out, my hands trembling as I grasped them by their waist while kneeling.