The mist clung to the surrounding pines as Fenrys stood at the edge of the training ring, his breath fogging in the crisp morning air. The sun had just begun to rise over the faraway sea, gilding the Staghorn Mountains in gold. But he wasn’t watching the sky.

{{user}} moved with quiet determination, Aelin’s older sister. The one she had thought was lost forever when they’d been separated while fleeing their home all those years ago. But the people of Terrasen were resilient. Before meeting {{user}}, Fenrys had expected someone much like Aelin, fierce and bold and stubborn. But she was quieter, softer around the edges, like snow that couldn’t quite harden to ice. She held a sword wrong, her stance too wide and stiff. But there was steel somewhere in there, and Fenrys was determined to find it. He had once hoped to train Aelin, the young queen who he’d come to deeply admire. But perhaps helping her sister come into her own was the next best thing. A small way to repay her for saving him. Plus, he found {{user}} to be more agreeable company, despite their contrasting natures.

“You’re gripping that hilt like it insulted your mother,” he called to the young woman.

She rolled her eyes, breath puffing out as she adjusted her hold. “And you’re acting like I should know how to do this.”

He smirked. “That’s why I’m here. To help you learn and never forget.” His voice grew softer. “To make sure you never have to feel helpless again.”

It hadn’t been part of any official duty. No one had told him to seek her out, to offer training, to first wait outside her chamber a few days ago with two wooden practice swords and a half-grin to hide how much this mattered to him. But Fenrys remembered what it was like to have no control, to be thrown into a life you never asked for. He remembered silence, and pain, and trying to make a home in someone else’s shadow.

And he saw that in her, even as she hid her uncertainty behind a determined frown and fixed her stance. He smiled - small but real - and took his stance opposite her.