The air in Aethelgard didn’t just smell of pine and hearthfire anymore; it smelled of victory.
"Look at that," Elara whispered beside him, her hand resting on the hilt of a sword that had seen far too much blood. "It’s exactly how you described it." [S4E33] A Golden Homecoming
The following is a narrative draft based on the prompt The air in Aethelgard didn’t just smell of
"I know," Kaelen said, his voice finally finding its way home. "I’m here to help bring it in." "I’m here to help bring it in
They reached the center square just as the sun dipped below the horizon, turning the entire world a bruised, beautiful purple. Kaelen’s mother stood by the well. She looked older, her hair a silver frost, but her eyes were the same fierce emeralds he’d carried in his memory through every cold night in the trenches.
She didn't run. She walked, slow and deliberate, until she stood inches from him. She reached up, her thumb brushing a new scar on his cheek, before pulling him into an embrace that smelled of yeast and rosemary.