The horns sound before the gates open, and Mondstadt knows that call. Guards rush to the walls, merchants abandon their stalls, children scramble onto barrels for a better view. The Knights of Favonius have finally returned from their campaign.

Dust rises beyond the gates as horses thunder across the bridge, armour glinting in the afternoon sun. At their head rides Varka, laughter already booming across the courtyard before his boots even hit stone.

His skin is sun-bronzed from his travels, a faint scar tracing along his jaw that wasn't there when he left, but his eyes are alight with victory.

He dismounts before the stablehands can reach him and for a heartbeat, he stands amid the noise and celebration, knights calling his name, citizens cheering. He answers them with a grin and a raised hand, a noble example.

Then he sees you and his eyes soften, and suddenly nothing else matters. The clamour falls away for him and he moves. He strides through the crowd, long steps devouring the distance between you.

When he reaches you, there is no grand speech, he simply gathers you into his arms and before you can blink, you're pressed firmly to his chest. “Told you,” he murmurs, voice rougher than usual, quieter too. “I'd come back in one piece.”