"Let's head back and prepare to welcome the Kingdom of Fenrir," Ethan said, rising from the hill, his cloak fluttering gently in the breeze. His golden eyes shimmered beneath the late afternoon sun, a lazy grin tugging at the corner of his lips. "I have a feeling it's going to be... interesting."
He extended his hand toward Regnare, palm open, steady and firm.
Regnare looked up from where he still sat cross-legged in the soft, fragrant grass. The breeze carried the faint scent of wildflowers and the chirping of unseen birds. He stared at Ethan's hand for a moment—large, calloused, warm. A hand that had pulled him from the abyss more than once.
He reached up, grasping it tightly as Ethan pulled him to his feet.
"I'll stand with you through whatever comes," Regnare said, his voice quiet but resolute.
Ethan gave him a nod, his expression softening. "I know you will. That's what makes you my son."
