"Nobody knows how Fenris crosses the Wall, journeying South. All we know is that he was sighted in the Godswood of Wintefell, the home of House Stark, the day Lord Stark returned home from the Greyjoy Rebellion. Upon begin seen, he flees to the woods and he was chased by Lord Stark and his party. And it was the wildest and known chase ever known in the history of the North."— Historical chronicled by a respected Maester of the Citadel.
Chapter 3: Catelyn
In the cold, stone halls of Winterfell, a sense of anticipation hung in the air. Maester Luwin, with his keen intellect and extensive knowledge of the healing arts and lore, had just delivered news that would change the course of Lady Catelyn Stark's life. As he stood before her in the dimly lit chamber adorned with tapestries depicting the history of House Stark, he spoke gently but with conviction.
"My lady," he began, "I have confirmed it. You are with child."
Catelyn's heart soared at this revelation. For years, she had longed for another child to fill the halls of Winterfell with laughter and joy. A girl—she hoped for a daughter who would embody the strength and resilience of House Stark. She envisioned a little girl with auburn hair and piercing grey eyes, traits that marked her family lineage. The thought filled her with warmth as she placed a hand on her belly, feeling a flutter of excitement.
As she reveled in her happiness, a servant entered the room breathlessly. "My lady! Lord Eddard has returned!"
Catelyn's heart raced at the news. She quickly composed herself and made her way to the courtyard where all gathered to welcome their lord back home. The courtyard was alive with activity; guardsmen stood at attention while servants scurried about preparing for their lord's arrival.
Eddard Stark emerged from the gates alongside Ser Rodrik Cassel and several other men-at-arms. Among them was Lord Howland Reed, Eddard's closest friend from the marshlands beyond Winterfell. Their faces were flushed from travel, but there was an unmistakable glint of triumph in their eyes.
As they approached, Catelyn noticed something unusual—a figure bound tightly in ropes was being dragged along behind them. It was a wild child—a feral boy who had been evading capture for weeks now. His wild hair framed his face like a lion's mane, and despite being tied up and gagged, he thrashed against his restraints defiantly.
Eddard raised his hand to quiet the crowd as they gathered around him. "My friends," he began, "we return not just as men who have traveled far but as hunters who have faced one of our greatest challenges yet."
The crowd murmured in curiosity as Eddard continued recounting their adventure—the longest chase they had ever undertaken through treacherous terrain and dense forests.
"The wild child proved to be cunning," Ser Rodrik chimed in, wiping sweat from his brow. "His unpredictability kept us on our toes every step of the way."
Luwin stepped forward, intrigued by how they managed such an arduous task. "How did you finally capture him?" he asked.
Eddard turned to Howland Reed beside him and smiled warmly at his old friend. "It was Howland's knowledge of these lands that led us to victory," he explained. "He knows these woods better than any man alive."
Howland nodded modestly but couldn't hide his pride at having aided in such an endeavor. "We set traps along his usual paths," he said quietly but confidently. "Patience is key when dealing with someone so wild."
As Catelyn listened to their tales of bravery and strategy, she felt a swell of admiration for her husband and his companions—men who faced danger head-on for honor and duty.
Once inside Winterfell again after their long journey homeward bound under starry skies, Catelyn took Eddard aside while others celebrated their return in raucous cheer within Great Hall.
"Eddard," she said softly yet earnestly as they stood near flickering torches casting shadows on stone walls; "I have news too… I am pregnant."
Eddard's expression shifted from surprise to joy as he embraced her tightly; together they shared hopes for their future child—a new Stark destined to carry forth their legacy amidst trials ahead.
0o0o0
"What are you going to do with him?" Catelyn asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper. She could see the conflict in Eddard's eyes; he was a man of honor and duty, yet there was something about this boy that stirred an inexplicable compassion within him.
Eddard sighed deeply, running a hand through his dark hair. "I don't know," he admitted. "When we found him in the woods, I thought I would have no choice but to end his life. But now…" His voice trailed off as he gazed down the corridor toward the dungeon where they had imprisoned the boy.
Catelyn felt a shiver run down her spine at the thought of the Wild Child—a feral creature raised by wolves, wild and untamed. "You can't be serious about wanting to keep him alive," she said, concern lacing her tone. "He's dangerous."
Reed, who had been listening quietly from a few steps behind them, stepped forward. "Ned," he said thoughtfully, "you're not thinking about raising him back to humanity, are you? You know what they say: 'You can take the boy out of the wild, but you can't take the wild out of the boy.' This task will not be easy."
Eddard nodded slowly. He understood Reed's caution; raising a child who had known nothing but savagery would be fraught with challenges. Yet something deep inside him urged him to try—to give this boy a chance at life beyond mere survival.
Ser Rodrik Cassel approached them then, his brow furrowed with unease. "My lord," he said respectfully but firmly, "if this Wild Child is going to live under our roof, we must consider our own children's safety." He glanced at Catelyn as if seeking her support.
"Especially my children," Catelyn interjected sharply. "What if he poses a threat? We cannot risk their lives for some misguided notion of redemption."
Luwin, their wise maester who had been observing silently from afar, finally spoke up. "It is true that this endeavor may prove long and difficult," he said cautiously. "But there is also potential for growth and change within him—if we approach it correctly." He paused before adding thoughtfully, "Yet we must acknowledge that he will likely retain some savage attributes learned from his time in the wild."
Cassel crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head slightly. "If we are going to keep him here in Winterfell," he insisted pragmatically, "we need to give him a proper name."
The group fell silent for a moment as they considered this idea—a name could signify belonging and identity where none existed before.
Eddard's eyes brightened suddenly as inspiration struck him. "Fenris!" he exclaimed excitedly. The name resonated with all present; it evoked images of strength and resilience while also hinting at his wild origins.
Catelyn looked at Eddard for confirmation; she could see that even amidst their fears and uncertainties about Fenris' future among them, there was hope flickering like candlelight in Eddard's gaze.
"Fenris it is then," Eddard agreed solemnly after a moment's pause. "I think ancestor would be pleased."
"Who?" Catelyn asked, curious.
"Catelyn," Eddard began, his voice low and steady, "you have heard tales of our ancestor Brandon the Builder, yes? The man who raised Winterfell and built the Wall?"
Catelyn nodded, her interest piqued. "Of course. He is a legend among our people."
Eddard leaned forward, his expression serious. "Fenris was Brandon's youngest son. While he did not inherit his father's gift for construction or diplomacy, he became known as one of the fiercest warriors in our lineage."
Catelyn listened intently as Eddard continued. "Fenris was born during a time when House Stark faced many threats—both from within and beyond our borders. His skills in battle were unmatched; he wielded the Valyrian steel sword Ice with an intensity that struck fear into the hearts of his enemies. Yet it was this very ferocity that made him both an ally to some and a source of dread to others."
As Eddard spoke, Catelyn couldn't help but feel a chill run down her spine at the mention of Fenris's reputation. She had heard whispers about "Wolfblood" before—an infamous trait within their family that seemed to bring both strength and tragedy.
"Wolfblood," she murmured thoughtfully. "I remember hearing stories about it… how it affected your brother Brandon and Lyanna."
Eddard nodded solemnly. "Yes, Wolfblood is said to be a curse as much as it is a blessing. It grants us heightened senses and abilities akin to those of wolves—strengthened instincts in battle—but it also brings with it an uncontrollable rage that can lead to destruction." He paused for a moment before continuing. "Fenris was the first known case of this affliction in our family line."
Catelyn's brow furrowed as she recalled her own past—the tragic fates of Brandon Stark and Lyanna Stark during Robert's Rebellion were forever etched in her memory. The thought that such ferocity could lead to ruin weighed heavily on her heart.
"Brandon was known for his honor," she said softly, "and yet he fell victim to this very rage during those tumultuous times."
Eddard sighed deeply, understanding her concern. "Indeed," he replied. "Fenris fought valiantly for House Stark but ultimately succumbed to his darker impulses during a critical battle against rival houses seeking power over Winterfell."
He recounted how Fenris led a charge against House Bolton—a fierce enemy—and how his bloodlust blinded him to reason, leading him into ambush where he lost many loyal men due to reckless decisions fueled by Wolfblood.
"His legacy is one filled with both glory and sorrow," Eddard explained further. "Though he defended our home fiercely, many believed that if not for Wolfblood's influence over him, he could have forged alliances rather than enmities."
Catelyn felt empathy for Fenris; she understood all too well how easily honor could be overshadowed by rage—a lesson learned through loss.
"What happened to him?" she asked gently.
"After years of fighting," Eddard replied quietly, "he vanished into the woods one winter night after losing control during another skirmish—never to be seen again."
The weight of Fenris's story hung heavy between them as they contemplated its implications for their own children—their future heirs who bore the Stark name.
"Do you remember our talk at Harrenhal?" Eddard asked Reed during one of their visits. "You said that perhaps fate has a hand in our lives."
Reed nodded thoughtfully, recalling that fateful day when they first encountered each other amidst the chaos of knights and lords at the Tourney. "It is possible," he replied slowly. "The Old Gods have always had their way with us."
Meanwhile, Catelyn Stark watched her husband with concern as he pondered over Fenris's future. She could not understand what Eddard saw in this fierce boy who seemed more animal than human. "Eddard," she said firmly, "as long as this wild child remains fierce and angry, we cannot let him out of that cage." Her voice was filled with both fear and protectiveness for their children.
But Eddard's heart was torn between duty and compassion. He believed there was something noble within Fenris—a spark that could be nurtured rather than extinguished by fear or confinement. One night, after much deliberation and against the advice of Catelyn, Ser Rodrik Cassel, Howland Reed, and even Maester Luwin, Eddard made up his mind.
"I will go to him," Eddard declared resolutely.
"Eddard!" Catelyn exclaimed in alarm. "You cannot! He is dangerous!"
"I must know if there is more to him than what we see," Eddard insisted. With a determined stride, he approached the cell where Fenris was kept—an iron-barred enclosure that felt more like a prison than a sanctuary.
As he entered the dimly lit cell and closed the door behind him, he turned to face Fenris for the first time without any barriers between them. The boy's eyes glinted like those of a wolf—wild yet intelligent—and for a moment they simply stared at each other.
"Fenris," Eddard spoke softly but firmly. "I am not your enemy."
The wild child growled lowly in response but did not move closer to attack; instead, he remained poised like an animal ready to pounce or flee at any moment.
"I know you've been hurt," Eddard continued gently. "But I believe you can find your place here—with us."
Fenris tilted his head slightly as if trying to understand these strange words from this man who wore honor like armor.
"You are not alone anymore," Eddard said quietly. "You are safe here."
For several tense moments, silence enveloped them until finally Fenris took a cautious step forward—his body tense but curious.
Eddard extended his hand slowly toward Fenris as an offering—a gesture meant to bridge their worlds apart. "I want to help you learn how to live among us."
Fenris hesitated but then reached out tentatively with his own hand—their fingers barely brushing against each other before retracting back into instinctual caution.
Outside the cell door stood Catelyn along with Ser Rodrik Cassel and Howland Reed—all watching anxiously as they witnessed this delicate interaction unfold before them.
"What are you doing?" Catelyn whispered urgently to Rodrik as she gripped her husband's arm tightly.
"Trust Lord Stark," Rodrik replied quietly while keeping his gaze fixed on Eddard inside the cell.
After what felt like an eternity filled only by unspoken words exchanged between man and boy—Fenris finally spoke for the first time: "Why?"
Eddard's heart swelled at hearing that single word escape from Fenris's lips—the boy was beginning to communicate!
"Because I see strength in you," Eddard answered earnestly. "And strength deserves respect—not fear."
Fenris regarded him carefully; there was still anger simmering beneath his surface—but now there was also curiosity—a flicker igniting within those feral eyes.
