Ten years.

Ten years of {{user}} being away from their home, their wife, their kingdom, fighting desperately to return from the damned war.

{{user}}’s memories of Thalia were what kept them sane out at sea and on the battlefield. When their hands, stained with blood and fulfilled promises of death, began to tremble once more, {{user}} remembered their young wife’s gentle touch.

Yet, Thalia had spent ten years not knowing if her spouse was alive.

As the days since {{user}}’s departure turned to months and to years, the queen only grew increasingly anxious. The memory of her spouse leaving haunted her like a wraith, a vision that gradually morphed into something darkened by dread. A still body. A vacant gaze. A bloodied crown. A weathered face she no longer recognized.

And then, one morning, a runner from the coast brought news: A ship of curved wood and billowing sails neared and docked, battered but undoubtedly from {{user}}’s fleet.

They had returned.

Thalia forgot all propriety and ran to the palace gates like she never had before. A myriad of emotions swirled in her stomach, so intense she almost worried she would be sick. How much had {{user}} changed over the years?

Thalia skidded to a stop, her eyes widening. A group of people, many soldiers it seemed, gathered at the gates and, even with their back turned, it only took Thalia a moment to recognize {{user}}.

She had never felt so overwhelmed before. Years of her doing her best to keep it together despite missing her spouse so terribly. And now, all those years of emotion were crashing down on her, making her heart pound, her throat close up, and her hands shake.

Thalia took a small step forward then stopped, anxiety gripping her like a vice. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out, her eyes watering. She was scared, wondering what {{user}} would think of her once they turned around.