The Wolf’s Child

Benjen closed the door behind him with a quiet click. The cool stone walls of his chamber greeted him with silence. Inside, the air was still, the only sound the low crackling of a dying fire. He shifted the bundle in his arms and exhaled slowly.

Kael was tucked tightly against his chest, wrapped in a thick woolen blanket. The child had been quiet for most of the walk back—calmer than he had expected. For a moment, Benjen thought he might have already fallen asleep.

He moved with careful steps. Setting down his sword, loosening the leather straps at his shoulder, he moved through the rhythms of nightly routine as if alone. But he wasn't. His eyes drifted down to Kael now and then, half-expecting him to begin crying again.

But Kael wasn't asleep.

His tiny body was still, but his eyes were open—wide and alert, like a small creature suddenly aware of its surroundings. Inside him, something was beginning to stir.

For days now, the world had been a haze—noises too loud, lights too bright, thoughts too tangled. His newborn body had been sluggish, alien, a prison of instincts and disorientation. But now, with warmth in his belly and soft fabric against his skin, something inside began to clear.

He was beginning to remember.

Not in full. Not names, not places. Just a feeling. A terrifying, cold recognition.

Benjen Stark.

The face that loomed above him now, watching him gently—Kael knew it. Or had known it. And the knowledge of that familiarity, in this body so helpless, ignited a panic he could not contain.

Kael began to cry.

It was sudden, sharp, high-pitched. Benjen froze. "Seven hells," he muttered under his breath, already reaching to unfasten the cloth wrapping. "What is it now, little one?"

He cradled Kael in his arms and began to walk the narrow length of the chamber, murmuring soft nothings, bouncing him gently.

"It's alright… whatever it is, it's alright."

The crying only grew louder.

Benjen tried feeding him, but the child turned away. He checked the cloth swaddle beneath the blanket—damp, warm. That might be it. He fetched a clean square of cloth from the chest at the foot of the bed and carefully unwrapped Kael, replacing the soiled layer with a fresh one.

Still, the baby cried.

"You've got lungs like a giant," Benjen muttered, though not unkindly. His face was worn with exhaustion, but his arms never loosened. He paced again. Up. Down. Back. Forth. Time passed in fits and starts. Minutes stretched long, until at last, Kael's cries softened into hiccups, his face pressed against Benjen's chest.

"You done now?" Benjen whispered.

Kael didn't answer—only let out a soft, shaky sigh.

Benjen stood still for a while, letting the quiet return. Then, on a whim, he lifted Kael under the arms, holding him up so they were eye to eye.

"Listen here," he said, voice low but steady. "I don't know who you are or what in the gods' name happened to you… but I'm not your enemy."

Kael blinked. His lip trembled.

Then, suddenly—so briefly Benjen wasn't sure he saw it right—his mouth curled. Just the faintest hint of a smile.

Benjen blinked back. "…Huh."

He shifted Kael against his shoulder. "You're full of surprises, little wolf."

He sat on the edge of the cot, rocking slightly, just enough to keep the baby from fussing again. Kael's breathing grew deeper, heavier. His fingers curled into the fabric of Benjen's tunic.

Benjen didn't mean to fall asleep. But eventually, the weight of the day caught up with him too. And there they stayed, man and child, both finally still.

---

Dawn crept into the room like a whisper.

Benjen stirred first. His body ached from sleeping upright, and his mouth was dry. He glanced down—Kael was still there, curled against his chest, breathing softly.

"Well," he murmured. "We made it through one night."

Kael stirred as well, letting out a small sound—half-yawn, half-grumble. Benjen shifted him to one arm and stood, stretching the stiffness from his back. "No more howling this morning, you hear?"

Kael blinked up at him, unfazed.

Benjen studied him for a moment. "You know, I think you're already smarter than half the boys I trained with."

The baby made a noise—a strange, amused little snort.

Benjen narrowed his eyes. "That was sarcasm. Wasn't it?"

Kael kicked one leg gently.

Benjen chuckled. "I'll take that as a yes."

He moved to the table, setting Kael down on a folded blanket. "First order of business—clean cloth, fresh wrap. No arguments."

Kael whined softly but didn't protest.

"There we go. See?" Benjen said, hands working with practiced care. "You scream less and I like you more. That's how this works."

He finished the task, then scooped Kael up again. "Come on. Let's find some breakfast. And maybe a minute of quiet before the rest of the world wakes up."

As he opened the door, the hallway outside was still mostly dark. But the boy in his arms was awake, warm, and—for now—peaceful.