Chapter 4: Saelen Stark (II)
Several days later, Eddard and his party returned to Winterfell battered and bloodied.
The castle immediately fell into chaos.
Catelyn rushed forward in panic, bombarding Eddard with questions about what had happened. Eddard said little. He summoned the maester at once and ordered summons sent to all the northern lords, calling for their cavalry to gather at Winterfell.
He then declared the castle under martial law and imposed a nightly curfew.
And after issuing those orders, he collapsed.
Once again, Winterfell was thrown into frantic turmoil.
---
Eddard dreamed.
In the dream, he became Hand of the King, burdened with endless disputes between the Seven Kingdoms. Day after day, he ruled in the king's name.
Then one day, King Robert died unexpectedly.
Eddard was accused of treason.
Before the people of King's Landing, his head was struck from his shoulders. Behind him, Sansa stood sobbing in despair.
As his head fell, he saw Arya being quietly carried away by men in black cloaks.
Then Winterfell appeared before him—reduced to ruins, the ground littered with familiar faces.
He saw two children escape the castle under the guidance of a man and a woman, fleeing northward with two direwolves at their heels.
He saw his eldest son, Robb, struck by arrows in a great hall, only to be pierced through the heart by a familiar figure from behind. Robb's beautiful wife had her throat cut and collapsed beside him.
He heard the anguished cries of the North's bannermen and smallfolk as rivers ran red with blood.
At last, he saw Lyanna's child.
Jon Snow.
The boy he had sworn to protect for life was surrounded by black-clad brothers—each man driving a blade into him until he fell lifeless into the snow.
The visions intertwined endlessly, grinding Eddard's heart numb.
Then, one by one, they vanished.
Lyanna lay before him on a blood-soaked bed, her right hand gripping Eddard's left arm with terrifying strength. Her voice was hoarse, hysterical.
"Ned… you promised me.
You said you would protect my child.
Why didn't you keep your promise? Why… why?"
Her voice softened into a desperate plea.
"Ned…
Please… you must protect my child."
Then hope flickered in her blood-filled eyes.
"Ned, you must find Saelen Stark.
Only he can prevent the destruction of House Stark.
Only he can save my child."
"Ned… you must find him…"
With those words, Lyanna's eyes flew wide as she collapsed into Eddard's arms, her hand still clenched around his.
Eddard wept in utter despair. He tried to speak, to answer her—
But only broken sobs escaped his throat.
Suddenly, Catelyn appeared before him, her neck torn open by a massive wound, her face twisted in fury as she screamed:
"Go find Saelen Stark—now!"
"Stark…
Stark…"
The word echoed again and again.
---
Eddard jolted awake.
He sat bolt upright, gasping for breath. His hand rose to his face—wet, though he could not tell whether it was sweat or tears. The woolen blanket beneath him was soaked as well.
His head throbbed as he lay there, trying to recall the nightmare.
Moments later, he struck his temple in agony.
He could not remember the details.
Everything had vanished—every scene, every face—except for one single, burning certainty:
Finding Saelen Stark would prevent the destruction of House Stark.
What disaster awaited the family?
Why would Saelen prevent it?
How?
He remembered none of it.
Eddard's right hand drifted to his left arm.
A dull ache pulsed there.
He had never believed in prophetic dreams. But this one felt too real—as if it had already happened. The grief had been so intense that even his waking body bore its weight.
After a long silence, Eddard made his decision.
His voice, low and hoarse, carried through the doorway.
"Summon everyone in charge of Winterfell to the council hall.
I have an announcement to make."
---
The council hall soon filled.
Eddard sat at the high seat. His mind had cleared somewhat, though his legs were still weak. Every senior official of Winterfell was present.
He took a swallow of wine to soothe his raw throat.
Then, without preamble, he spoke.
"From this day forward, I take Saelen as my adopted son."
A murmur rippled through the hall.
"I grant him the name Stark.
He is henceforth a member of House Stark."
The hall fell into stunned silence.
After Eddard's declaration, the people of Winterfell exchanged uneasy glances.
Maester Luwin opened his mouth to speak, intending to dissuade him—but Eddard cut him off at once, stating plainly that he had already sworn an oath in the name of the Old Gods. With that, Luwin could only swallow the words he had nearly spoken.
Catelyn, meanwhile, slowly wiped away the smile she had worn at Eddard's safe return. One hand rested on her slightly swollen belly. Without a word, she turned and left the hall.
Eddard noticed—but said nothing.
He told himself there would be time later to speak with Catelyn properly. For now, he instructed Maester Luwin to send ravens to King's Landing and to the northern lords, informing them of his decision.
At the very moment Eddard announced that he would adopt Saelen and grant him the name Stark, a translucent system panel appeared before Saelen's eyes—visible to him alone.
---
Name: Saelen Stark
Note: This surname is forcibly bound by the system and cannot be altered.
Strength: 1 (Can be increased through training)
Agility: 1 (Can be increased through training)
Endurance: 1 (Can be increased through training)
Spirit: 9 (Max level. Further upgrades require construction tasks. Spirit level determines animal control capacity; current limit: 9.)
Mana: 0
Mana is obtained by killing magical creatures:
– Wight: +0.1
– White Walker: +10
– Night King: +100
Mana Exchange: 0
Spirit Exchange: 0
Exchange Ratio: 1:1
Swordsmanship: Unlearned
Archery: Beginner
Spear Technique: Unlearned
Horsemanship: Beginner
Construction Tasks:
✘ Porcelain Factory – Not Started
✘ Glass Factory – Not Started
✘ Weapons & Armor Workshop – Not Started
---
Saelen studied the panel calmly.
The three physical attributes—Strength, Agility, Endurance—were clearly meant to be raised through basic physical training. Spirit, however, was less clear. He wasn't even entirely sure what qualified as a "magical creature."
Dragons likely counted—terrifyingly powerful ones at that—but killing one was pure fantasy. The Others almost certainly counted as well. After all, raising the dead was magic by any definition.
Looks like I'll need to head beyond the Wall someday and test it myself, he thought.
As for weapon skills and horsemanship, those could be trained under Ser Rodrik Cassel, Winterfell's master-at-arms.
Saelen nodded inwardly, satisfied.
He had a system now—and more importantly, the Stark name.
Even if King Robert had not yet publicly acknowledged it, that was only a matter of time. With the system, he was confident that one day all Seven Kingdoms would be forced to recognize him.
As for factories and industry? Those were future concerns. Without stable land and authority, such ambitions were premature.
Later, Saelen reflected on why Eddard had suddenly granted him the Stark name.
After days of thought, he reached a conclusion: it had to be connected to the system.
The system had appeared only after Eddard bestowed the name—and it explicitly stated that the surname was forcibly bound.
That alone confirmed it.
He had spent years after transmigrating secretly calling out for a "system," earning more than a few strange looks from his parents.
Now it had finally answered.
Thus, Saelen settled into life at Winterfell under countless curious gazes.
Catelyn's concerns were eventually eased—at least on the surface—after Eddard swore before the heart tree that his children's inheritance rights would always take precedence over Saelen's.
He also promised that once Saelen came of age, he would be granted a small holding near Winterfell—two or three villages—to govern as a landed knight. Saelen would, in time, become a bannerman under Robb.
Only then did Catelyn's doubts finally recede.
Saelen, for his part, was tactful. In every setting, he presented himself openly as Robb's future vassal.
At the time, Robb was barely four years old—his speech clumsy, his steps unsteady. That did not stop Saelen from declaring loyalty.
Where Saelen went, Robb followed.
And trailing after them both was a smaller shadow—Jon Snow.
Over time, the bond between the three grew close. Seeing this, Catelyn said nothing more.
But peaceful days never lasted.
As they grew older, the differences became clearer.
Robb had reddish-brown hair, blue eyes, and fair skin inherited from his mother. Among the three, he looked the least like Eddard.
Yet even at ten, his build and strength already exceeded his years.
Saelen and Jon, by contrast, shared dark brown hair, gray eyes, long faces—the unmistakable Stark look of the North.
Jon was handsomer, lean and sharp-featured.
Saelen was broader, taller, built solidly from relentless training.
By the time Saelen turned fourteen, rumors began circulating among the guards and servants.
People whispered that Saelen and Jon looked more like Starks than Robb himself.
Jon's case was understandable—Eddard had openly acknowledged him as his bastard.
But Saelen?
Wasn't he just a hunter's son with no surname, adopted after saving Lord Eddard's life twice?
Why did he look so much like a Stark?
Whispers spread—and three versions of the truth emerged.
The first claimed Saelen was Eddard Stark's second bastard.
After all, one bastard already existed—why not another? Eddard was a man, even if he valued honor. And by age alone, Saelen would have been born before Catelyn's marriage, back when Eddard served Jon Arryn in the Eyrie.
Saelen's father Quinn had also served the previous Lord of Winterfell—and his sudden resignation, retreat to a remote village, and marriage seemed… suspicious.
The second theory suggested Saelen was Benjen Stark's bastard—entrusted to Eddard after Benjen joined the Night's Watch and swore his vows.
The third claimed Saelen was Brandon Stark's illegitimate son. Brandon had been known for his passions; such a child would hardly be surprising.
The latter two explanations were tolerable. They even justified why Eddard would grant Saelen the Stark name—to preserve Brandon's or Benjen's bloodline.
But the first rumor was deadly.
If Saelen were Eddard's bastard—and now legitimized—his claim would supersede Catelyn's children.
Saelen became alert.
Was this malicious rumor-mongering—or idle gossip?
He couldn't tell.
But he sensed something dark taking shape.
As always, walls have ears.
The rumors reached Catelyn.
At first, she dismissed them. Eddard had sworn before the Old Gods—and Saelen was respectful, obedient, and close with her children.
But lies are like blades.
As the stories spread, sharpened by repetition, they reached King's Landing—and even the Reach and Dorne.
At last, Catelyn broke.
She looked at Saelen's increasingly Stark-like features—and combined with the first rumor, the effect was devastating.
Pregnant, furious, and terrified, she confronted Eddard, accusing him of deceiving and betraying her again and again.
Eddard was stunned.
When he finally understood what had happened, sweat poured down his brow. Tongue-tied as ever, he had no explanation that could be spoken.
He knew only this:
Saelen was not his bastard.
Jon Snow was not his bastard.
But the truth behind Jon's birth was a secret too great to reveal—even to the woman he loved most.
If Robert ever learned it, Eddard dared not imagine the consequences.
Nor could he tell Catelyn that Saelen's adoption stemmed from a nightmare—she would think him mad.
Eddard wished he were mad.
That the dream was nothing more than illusion.
But he could not gamble.
What if it was real?
If even one fragment came true, it would be the beginning of House Stark's destruction.
So he endured the suspicion of the Seven Kingdoms—and said nothing.
Catelyn's emotions finally collapsed.
She raged, fell ill, recovered—
And miscarried.
Eddard was consumed with guilt.
He wanted to tell her everything. That he had never betrayed her. That neither Jon nor Saelen was his bastard.
But he could not.
Some truths were too dangerous.
When Saelen heard of the miscarriage, his mind went blank.
…Wait?
Rickon's gone?
Bran's barely a year old—Rickon hasn't even been born yet.
Had he really altered the timeline already?
Then he reconsidered.
In the original history, Rickon would not be born for several more years.
And Catelyn was still young.
As long as she recovered, there would still be time.
But one thing was certain—
The world was already changing.