Chapter 12: Fenris
As the sun dipped low in the sky, casting a golden hue over the Kingsroad, Ser Fenris Wulfsbane rode alongside Sansa Stark, her dire wolf Lady trotting faithfully beside them. The Kingsroad, a vital artery of Westeros, stretched southward toward King's Landing, bustling with travelers and merchants. It was a well-trodden path that connected the North to the capital, laden with stories of knights, lords, and common folk alike.
It's been over a week since the Lord Eddard Stark, his daughters Sansa and Arya, Ser Fenris Wulfsbane who been assign as their bodyguard, along with his House Stark Guards, House Stark servants, and went with King Robert and his family, as well as the royal party, to return to King's Landing.
Sansa's heart was heavy with thoughts of her sister Arya. "Fenris," she began hesitantly, "do you know where Arya is? I haven't seen her all day." Her voice carried a note of concern that only deepened as she awaited his response.
Fenris glanced down at her, his expression softening. "She is playing with a boy named Mycah," he replied. "The son of a butcher from near here."
Sansa frowned slightly; it was not proper for a lady to be playing with boys. "That seems rather…unlady-like," she murmured, her brow furrowing in disapproval. She had been raised to embody grace and decorum—qualities she felt were slipping away from her sister.
As they continued along the road, they encountered Sandor Clegane—known as The Hound—Joffrey Baratheon's bodyguard. His imposing figure loomed over them like a dark cloud. With him a man whose very presence sent shivers down Sansa's spine. His face was marred by scars.
"Can I help you ser?" Fenris asked, stepping between Sansa and this man, whom he did not personally like.
The man refuses to reply. His eyes were cold and unfeeling; he seemed more specter than man. Fenris did not like his looks. It makes him feels intimidated and when he's intimidated, things will get nasty.
"His name is Ser Ilyn Payne, the king's headsman," the Hound told him.
"Can he speaks for himself." Fenris replied, giving the mute man a cold look of his own.
"He can't speak," said Sandor. "The Mad King rip his tongue off, made him mute because he says something the Mad King did not like."
It was when Prince Joffrey appeared like a ray of sunshine breaking through storm clouds, ordering the Hound and Ser Payne to depart.
"Come now, Sansa," he said smoothly, taking her hand in his own. "Let us walk by the riverbank." He cast an arrogant glance at Fenris who stood protectively nearby.
Fenris shifted uneasily but remained silent; he understood his place as Sansa's bodyguard but felt an instinctual urge to protect her from Joffrey's whims.
Joffrey smirked at Fenris' discomfort. "Your services are not needed here," he taunted mockingly. "It takes a man to protect a lady—not an animal like you." His words dripped with disdain as he led Sansa away from Fenris and into the fading light.
The departure of Prince Joffrey and Sansa Stark had left a palpable tension in the air, one that Fenris felt deeply. Accompanying him was Lady, Sansa's direwolf, her presence a comforting reminder of home and loyalty amidst the chaos of courtly intrigue.
Fenris had taken it upon himself to search for Arya Stark, Sansa's sister who had gone missing after their tumultuous escape from the capital. He knew that Arya was resourceful and brave, but it is his duty to protect her.
As they journeyed down the Kingsroad, Fenris reflected on his own past—a wild child found in the wilderness by Lord Eddard Stark, who took him under his wing and raised him alongside his children.
The tranquility of their journey was interrupted when Fenris encountered Septa Mordane. She stood by the roadside, her expression a mix of concern and determination. Fenris recognized her immediately; she had been a steadfast figure in Winterfell, guiding Sansa and Arya with wisdom and care. However, their last encounter had been fraught with tension—Mordane had chastised him for his liaison with Ros in Wintertown, an act she deemed unbecoming of a knight.
"Ser Fenris," she called out softly as he approached. "May I have a word?"
Fenris hesitated but nodded. They moved to a secluded spot beneath an ancient oak tree where they could speak privately away from prying eyes.
"I owe you an apology," Mordane began earnestly. "I spoke harshly to you back in Winterfell regarding your choices. It was not my place to judge."
Fenris shifted uncomfortably but appreciated her honesty. "You were right to be concerned," he replied quietly. "But I am no longer that wild child you once knew."
Mordane smiled gently at him. "You have grown into a fine young man, Ser Fenris. I respect your choices—even if I do not always understand them." Her voice softened further as she continued, "I care about you deeply; you are like a son to me."
At this admission, Fenris felt warmth spread through his chest—a feeling he hadn't realized he craved so much since leaving Winterfell. "And you are like a mother to me," he confessed earnestly. "I promise to strive to be better."
Mordane's eyes glistened with unshed tears as she recalled how difficult it had been to raise him compared to Arya Stark—who was spirited yet more compliant than Fenris ever was as a boy. "From the day Lord Stark found you in those woods," she said softly, "I prayed every day for your success."
"I will make you proud," Fenris vowed solemnly.
Mordane nodded appreciatively before adding wistfully, "I hope one day you will find love and start your own family."
"If I have a daughter," Fenris replied thoughtfully, "I will name her Mordane after you."
The words hung between them like an unbreakable bond forged anew; Mordane's tears flowed freely now as joy filled her heart at this promise.
"Oh, dear boy," she whispered through her tears of happiness. "That would mean everything to me."
Their conversation continued as they walked along the well-trodden path when suddenly a commotion erupted from the main camp behind them. Shouts echoed through the trees, punctuated by the sound of galloping hooves and barking dogs. The tranquility of their surroundings shattered like glass.
"What in the Seven Hells is happening?" Mordane exclaimed, her eyes wide with alarm.
Without hesitation, Fenris turned on his heel and sprinted toward the source of the noise. They soon encountered Jory Cassel, captain of House Stark's guard who appeared equally troubled.
"Jory!" Fenris called out as they approached him. "What's going on?"
Jory's face was flushed with urgency as he caught his breath. "It's Arya! She attacked Prince Joffrey with her wolf!" he exclaimed, glancing back toward where chaos reigned in their camp.
Mordane gasped at this revelation. "Arya? What do you mean? Why would she do such a thing?"
"Queen Cersei has ordered that Arya be brought before her and King Robert," Jory added grimly. "She wants answers for what happened."
Fenris felt a surge of determination and anger rise within him at hearing this news. He was not going to let anyone touch Arya. Not as long as he breathes.
"I will find her first," Fenris declared resolutely. He turned to Sansa's direwolf, Lady, who had been quietly observing them from nearby. With a swift motion, he called her over and knelt down beside her.
"Lady," he said softly but firmly, "we have work to do." The wolf responded instantly to his command; there was an understanding between them born from shared loyalty and purpose.
Mordane reached out as if to stop him but hesitated at his fierce resolve. "Be careful," she urged instead; fear etched across her features.
"I will bring Arya back safely," Fenris promised before he, Lady, and Jory disappearing into the dense woods.
0o0o0
In the deep woods, Ser Fenris Wulfsbane, moved with a purpose. His keen senses were attuned to the subtle shifts in the air, the rustle of leaves underfoot, and the distant calls of woodland creatures. Beside him trotted Lady, Sansa's loyal Dire Wolf companion, her fur a blend of shadows and silver that mirrored the dappled sunlight filtering through the canopy above.
Fenris had been tracking Arya Stark and her own Dire Wolf, Nymeria, since he had caught wind of their presence in these woods. The scent of fear lingered in the air—a potent reminder that danger was never far from those who bore the Stark name. As they ventured deeper into the forest, Fenris's mind raced with thoughts of what could have transpired between Arya and Joffrey Baratheon.
Meanwhile, Jory Cassel, captain of House Stark Guards, followed closely behind Fenris. His heavy boots thudded against the earth as he navigated through underbrush and brambles. Jory was no stranger to these woods; he had patrolled them countless times before. Yet today felt different—charged with an urgency that quickened his pulse. He shared a silent understanding with Fenris; both men were determined to protect Arya at all costs.
As they pressed on, Lady's acute senses picked up a familiar scent—the unmistakable musk of Nymeria mingled with that of Arya's own essence. With a low growl that resonated deep within her chest, Lady urged Fenris forward. They soon found themselves at a clearing where sunlight poured down like liquid gold onto the forest floor.
There stood Arya Stark, her small frame tense as she cradled her arm protectively against her body. Nymeria was beside her—a fierce guardian whose eyes glinted with defiance and loyalty. The sight brought relief to Fenris's heart; they had found them before any harm could befall them.
"Arya!" he called out gently but firmly as he approached.
Arya turned at his voice, her expression shifting from fear to relief upon seeing Fenris and Jory. "Ser Fenris! You have to help us!" she exclaimed breathlessly.
"What happened?" Fenris asked as he knelt beside her.
"Joffrey tried to hurt me," she explained hurriedly, "when I defended Mycah—the butcher's boy—Nymeria attacked him." Her voice trembled slightly as she spoke about the prince's cruelty.
Fenris felt a surge of anger at Joffrey's actions but tempered it for Arya's sake. "You did well to protect your friend," he reassured her softly. "But we must think about Nymeria now."
"I'm scared," Arya admitted quietly, glancing toward Nymeria who stood watchful by her side. "What if they punish her for what she did?"
Fenris understood all too well how harshly those in power could react when their pride was wounded. He looked at both wolves—Lady and Nymeria—and sensed their bond with Arya ran deeper than mere companionship; it was forged in loyalty and love.
"Listen to me," he said firmly yet kindly. "Nymeria is strong and wise; she knows how to survive in these woods better than any human ever could." He paused for effect before continuing, "You must let them flee into the depths of this forest away from humans."
Arya's eyes widened in protest as she shook her head vigorously. "But I can't just leave her!"
"You must trust me," Fenris urged gently but insistently. "If they find you together… it will not end well for either of you."
Lady stepped closer to Nymeria as if sensing their shared plight; there was an unspoken understanding between them—a promise forged in instinct and kinship.
With a reluctant nod from Arya signaling acceptance despite her fears, Fenris turned back towards Lady and Nymeria once more: "Go now! Stay hidden until I can find you again."
The two Dire Wolves exchanged glances filled with understanding before disappearing into the underbrush like shadows melding into twilight.
As silence enveloped them after their departure, Arya looked up at Fenris with worry etched across her features. "Do you really think they'll be okay?"
"They are wild creatures," he replied confidently while scanning their surroundings for any signs of danger lurking nearby. "They know how to fend for themselves out here."
Jory stepped forward then, placing a reassuring hand on Arya's shoulder—a gesture meant to comfort both girl and knight alike amidst uncertainty looming over them like storm clouds gathering on an otherwise clear day.
"We need to get you back to your father," Jory said firmly but gently while keeping his gaze fixed ahead toward where Lady and Nymeria had vanished moments ago.
Arya's heart raced as they approached the camp. She felt a mix of hope and dread—hope that her father would be there waiting for them and dread at what awaited them in this treacherous game of thrones. As they neared their destination, however, their hopes were dashed when they encountered a dozen members of House Lannister Guards blocking their path.
"Stand aside!" commanded one of the guards, his voice dripping with arrogance. "We have business with the girl."
Fenris stepped forward protectively. "What business do you have with Lady Arya?" he asked calmly.
The guard sneered. "She is to stand before King Joffrey and Queen Cersei for attacking Prince Joffrey. Hand her over peacefully."
Arya's fists clenched at her sides as she glared at the Lannister men. "I did nothing wrong! He attacked me first!"
The guards laughed mockingly at her protestations. "A little wolf thinks she can bite? You'll pay for your insolence," one of them spat.
Fenris felt a surge of anger rise within him as he witnessed Arya being insulted repeatedly by these brutish men. He had sworn an oath to protect House Stark and its members—especially its young daughters—and he would not allow this affront to go unchallenged.
"Enough!" Fenris roared suddenly, his voice echoing through the clearing like thunder. "You will not speak to her that way in my presence."
Jory stepped back slightly but remained vigilant beside Arya as Fenris took a step forward, his demeanor shifting from calm protector to fierce warrior. The Lannister guards exchanged glances; they were twelve against one but underestimated Fenris's resolve.
"Back down or face the consequences," Fenris warned them in a low growl.
But instead of retreating, the guards advanced menacingly toward him. Their laughter faded into jeers as they surrounded him and began to taunt him about his loyalty to House Stark.
In an instant, Fenris snapped. With an animal-like fury that seemed almost supernatural, he launched himself into action. His fists flew like lightning—striking out at the nearest guard with precision and power that left them reeling backward.
Jory shouted for him to be careful but knew better than to intervene; Fenris was a force unto himself when provoked.
With each blow delivered by Fenris's fists and knees—each kick executed with balletic grace—the Lannister guards fell one by one like wheat before a scythe. They were caught off guard by his unorthodox style of combat; it was unlike anything they had ever faced before—a blend of martial prowess and raw instinct that left them bewildered.
As he fought on relentlessly, Fenris spotted a wooden staff lying nearby—a makeshift weapon that would serve him well against these aggressors. He seized it mid-fight and began using it to strike down those who dared approach him further.
"Never insult a daughter of House Stark again in my presence!" he bellowed as he swung the staff mercilessly against another guard who dared challenge him.
The scene was chaotic; blood splattered across the ground as Fenris fought with ferocity unmatched by any ordinary man. The remaining guards hesitated now; fear flickered in their eyes as they realized they were no match for this lone warrior defending his charge.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity filled with violence and rage unleashed upon those who sought to harm Arya Stark, only two Lannister guards remained standing—bloodied and bruised but unwilling to surrender completely.
Fenris stood tall amidst the carnage around him—his chest heaving from exertion—but his gaze remained fixed on those two remaining foes who dared defy him still.
"Leave now," he warned them dangerously low. "Or I will kill you!"
With that final threat hanging in the air like smoke from extinguished flames, the remaining guards turned tail and flee—their pride shattered along with their bodies' resolve against such overwhelming strength.
Breathing heavily but victorious nonetheless,Fenris turned back towards Arya who stood wide-eyed behind Jory Cassel—the captain looking equally astonished yet proud of his comrade's display of valor.
"Are you alright?" Jory asked gently as he placed a reassuring hand on Arya's shoulder while keeping watchful eyes on any potential threats lingering nearby still even though most had retreated already into shadows cast by twilight creeping ever closer around them now too…
"I'm fine," she replied breathlessly though shaken still from witnessing such brutality unfold before her very eyes moments ago…yet also feeling grateful deep inside knowing someone cared enough about protecting her honor fiercely without hesitation whatsoever…
Fenris approached cautiously then kneeling down slightly so she could see him better without feeling intimidated further than necessary given circumstances just experienced together recently too…
"You're safe now," he assured softly meeting her gaze directly while trying not overwhelm her more than needed right now either considering everything just transpired earlier moments ago too. "Let's go find your father."