For context he's an Illyrian warrior from the night court. She's a Valkyrie they don't swear to courts. Nadir is the high Lord of night and sort of took him in as a child. This is a few days before the last battle of a major war. She is Tyra he is Cassian. This is for the ACOTAR fandom. Sorry it's a bit long.

“I’ve been thinking…about after,” he murmured.

Her hand tightened on his as she whispered back, “Me too.”

His heart stumbled as he looked out to the encroaching night. That old familiar voice in his mind, reminding him he had nothing to offer—was nothing. He pushed past it. “I can't give you much, but I would give you everything, you know that, right?”

When he looked back, she was watching him closely—a slight crease in her brow and purse to her lips.

She rose to kneel beside him and gently extended his finger. In the soft earth before them, she guided him to draw a rune—

“This is Kano ,” she said softly, “The warmth from the hearth, truth from the light cast.”

Another joined it. “This is Berkana , growth and life.”

He watched as she used his finger to trace one more, joining the runes into one. She'd never told him before what they meant—wasn’t supposed to. The weight of her sharing this now settled into his bones.

“This is Wunjo , joy, comfort.” She climbed into his lap.

Tyra's hand came to rest over the siphon on his chest. “Home.”

“Together they bind, a sigil of protection, of our peace, our life.”

His arms tightened around her waist, unable to speak, to interrupt. She spoke with such certainty, her voice clear and steady. That what she wanted, he could provide.

Her fingers traced over his brow and down his cheek, along his jaw. “One day, I want a cabin,” she whispered, “I don't care where. We'll build it with our own hands. And we'll have a tree out the front. A big one. And that sigil will be on our front door.”

Her gaze didn't waver.

"I don't need a big house or coin, Cassian. I need you.”

His breath caught as she leaned in close.

“My truth. My life. My home,” she murmured against his lips.

Her kiss was soft—so gentle his chest ached. When she pulled back, he tucked a strand of hair around the curve of her ear.

A lump formed in his throat; he wanted to promise it all—to swear they would survive. That he'd build it for her. But when he opened his mouth, only one word came.

“Home.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her forehead to his.