The training yard was empty when I arrived, the grey light of morning casting long shadows across the packed earth. The practice dummies stood in their usual places, scarred and battered from months of use. The weapon racks were full, the swords and axes and spears waiting for hands that were too weary to lift them.
I had come to train, to work through the restlessness that had settled in my bones. The days since the first kiss had been a blur of happiness and quiet intimacy, of stolen glances and whispered words. But beneath the joy, there was a tension: the knowledge that the world was still watching, that the North still needed its leaders, and that the monster waves would return.
I needed to move. To fight. To feel the weight of a sword in my hand.
I did not hear him approach.
"You're up early."
