Alright y'all, this is the rebooted version of Chapter 1. I've decided to change a few things, such as Erik and Robb being twins. The reason for this is because I moved the ages back to the book ages. The show kinda killed me inside like the whole time I watched it (after reading the books - which I finally got around to! - of course). Season 8 has been a whole bunch of "WTF!?!?" So yea, we're gonna follow the book ages from now on.

That being said, I've changed a few other things, which y'all will notice as y'all read this chapter and then the next and so on. I'm still working out the major details but I've got some better ideas than what I originally planned. I hope y'all will love this as much as y'all did the original! I've been inspired by various other fanfics both on and AO3, which also has a copy of the updated Chapter 1 up as well.

Certain things to take note of, the chapters have been broken down into POV sections, similar to the books. So each chapter is from a different character POV instead of me putting two or three different character POVs into one chapter. Because of this, I've broken the chapters into sections (EX: this chapter is dubbed Chapter 1.1).

As for the Stark family ages, they are as follows:

Eddard "Ned" Stark - 34

Catelyn "Cat" Stark - 33

Robbard "Robb" Stark - 14

Erik "Rick" Stark - 14

Jon Snow - 14

Sansa Stark - 11

Arya Stark - 9

Brandon "Bran" Stark - 7

As for the royal Baratheon family, their ages are:

Robert Baratheon - 35

Cersei Lannister/Baratheon - 31

Joffrey Baratheon - 13

Myrcella Baratheon - 8

Tommen Baratheon - 6

I will try my best to include the various other characters' ages as they are introduced into the story.

I don't have much to say other than please enjoy the chapter and remember to let me know what y'all think about this new version of the story! (:

NOTE: I'm sorry this this chapter is so squished together. I've tried multiple times to get it to space the fucking paragraphs out but I am writing and uploading these via my iPhone and so I am having to use the FanFic app, which fucking sucks. My deepest apologies, I will try hard to fix this next chapter!

Chapter 1.1

Erik I

The cool sea breeze rolled off of the Bay of Ice, catching the white sails of Gypsy Danger, propelling the swift vessel across the water. The cold, cutting winds nipped at Erik's face but the salty spray barely stung his eyes anymore. Stormy grey eyes crowned by finely shaped, dark brown eyebrows that matched his unruly hair in color, stared out over the waves, towards the green land, towards his home. His father had finally called him back to Winterfell. He was finally returning to his home, after so many years being away.

It wasn't hard to figure out why his father had summoned him back to Winterfell at this time. Erik knew his father had caught wind of his voyage to the Iron Islands. Lady Maege had most likely written to his father informing him of the events of the past few weeks. If his father knew of his departure than he most likely knew about the sacking of Old Wyk at Erik's hand. "The same hands stained with the blood of my beautiful Lyra..."

He clenched his jaw, setting it in a hard line and his stormy grey eyes narrowed as he grit his teeth. The wolfsblood stirring in his veins at the memory of his lost love laying beaten, bloodied, and broken. Only tatters of clothing clinging to her violated body which lay still and unmoving in a pool of her own blood. The same beautiful body that had once kept him warm during the cold nights on Bear Island.

His gloved grip tightened around the hilt of his new sword. Erik had claimed the sword after avenging his late lover. "When I arrive at Winterfell I'll have the hilt and pommel changed into something less gaudy."

He'd been fighting in battles since he was before he saw his ten-and-second name day, and Erik had learned that, when it came to weapons; simplicity is much better for combat. A sword is a tool to be put to use, not a piece of art to be put on display. That and he preferred to be able to smash skulls in with the pommel of his sword just as much as chopping limbs off with the blade. He couldn't do that with the overly extravagant hilt that currently decorated Red Rain. He had no use for the more refined and lavish things that they so adored down south. Although, Erik would be lying if he said he wasn't mesmerized by the swirling, patterns of the Valyrian steel blade. The spellforged sword had a deep crimson tint in the smoky color which give the swirling metal a permanent bloody hue.

"Worried about how your mother will react to you stealing a noble house's Valyrian steel?" A female's voice called to him from over his shoulder.

Turning away from the prow of the longship and the mainland in the distance, Erik came to face a lanky woman, standing slightly taller than himself. While not as beautiful as her late younger sister, Dacey Mormont was still quite a handsome woman, her long dark brown hair fell down, past her shoulders to her mid-back. Her eyes weren't the same shade of brown as his beloved Lyra though. Dacey was garbed in leather armor with her mace strapped to her hip. She was rather elegant despite being clad in armor more often than a dress. She and Erik had fought and killed wildlings together even before the Ironborn thought they could steal Lady Maege's younger daughters and get away with it. Erik was quick to give chase and Dacey was just as quick to join him in rescuing her little sisters. After his time on Bear Island, Erik considered her to be a fierce friend and elder sister figure.

Erik offered her a crooked smirk, contorting his long face. "Aye, though truly I'm worried about how my father will react. He was always the one to fret over me 'n' hearin' the tale of how I took the blade will no doubt have him turnin' grey from stress." Erik turned his stormy grey gaze back over the frigid blue-green waters of the Bay of Ice, eyes fixed on the approaching shore.

Dacey stepped forward and stood next to him. Turning her deep brown gaze out towards the mainland, Dacey voiced the question on her mind. "Do you intend to remain at Winterfell or will you return to Bear Island?" Her voice held a hint of sadness and Erik knew what she was truly asking.

He nodded slowly, "Winterfell is my home, even if I haven't been there in almost six years. I plan to remain in Winterfell for some time, though I will return to Bear Island on occasion, to pay my respects…" He admitted, the crooked smile falling from his handsome face, replaced by a deep frown.

In truth, Erik wasn't sure how long he would remain in Winterfell once he arrived. His father had spoken of the Moat in his letter and Erik expected that was another reason for which his father called him back home now, after all this time. Even though it hurt him to leave Bear Island so soon, he was still grieving, the prospect of returning to his childhood home filled him with a strange sense of giddiness.

The last time he had been at Winterfell, he had been leaving the only home he had ever known to go live in a place of swamps, marshes, and bogs, all so strange and alien to him. At the time, it had been so horribly terrifying and yet so irrationally exciting. However, that was almost six years ago and so much could happen in six years. Erik could attest to that much after his travels over the years. He had left Winterfell, a young boy barely eight years of age with only his natural talent with the sword and horseback riding, to hone an ability which he wasn't sure was even real or that he even possessed. And now he was returning, practically a man grown at the age of five-and-ten - well, almost - with more knowledge and skills than he had ever imagined possessing before he left Winterfell.

Erik had definitely grown up since leaving his childhood home. He had traveled the lands north of the Wall, met its people, hunted its game, caught its fish, climbed its mountains and trees, drank from and swam in its waters. He had survived and adapted to the lands and to combat against both man, beast, and the elements themselves, having fought both on land and on the sea. He had become familiar with the feelings of hopelessness and despair, as well as joy and relief. He had experienced love, for however brief and beautiful it had been, and now he had come to know loss and the overwhelming pain it brought. In the past few weeks grief and rage had become his constant companions and he carried them with him like a pair of anvils set upon his shoulders.

While recalling how much the past six years of his life had changed him, Erik couldn't help but wonder how much the time apart had changed everyone else. Based on how much Erik had changed, he wouldn't be surprised if no one even recognized him when he arrived at the gates of Winterfell. He couldn't wait to look upon his father's face once more, or embrace his mother in a loving hug and bury his face in her brilliant red hair, though he was probably taller than his mother now.

Erik couldn't wait to spar with his brothers: his twin brother Robb, and half-brother Jon Snow, once more. He wondered if he would throw them in the dirt with all the techniques and tricks he had learned and picked up over the years. Oh, how terribly Erik wanted to hug upon his baby sister, Arya, maybe he'd sneak her off and begin teaching her archery when he returned, he always promised her he would before he had left to be fostered at Greywater Watch. And Bran, oh Gods… Sweet, young Bran, he had been naught but a babe when Erik had left Winterfell.

Erik suddenly felt a pang of guilt in his heart for not being there for his baby brother as he grew up, Erik wasn't there for any of his siblings when they needed him. He had been studying, training, growing in strength and ability for three years before his lone ranging beyond the Wall. Wandering and searching for an answer to his dreams in the snow and ice. Because of that he had strayed too far. He had left the pack. And he had become strong, hardened by the cold, a lone wolf. The Lone Wolf was now returning to his pack, in hopes that they had not forgotten about him.

Erik promised himself at that moment that he would spend as much time reuniting with his siblings as possible. He was desperate to be apart of their lives again after so many years of being away. He could scarcely remember their faces… in his dreams his family was always represented by a pack of wolves. He could tell which wolf was who with ease in his dreams and he wondered if he would be able to recall his real siblings as easily as he did, the wolf siblings from his dreams.

Erik attempted to conjure the images of his siblings' faces in his mind the closer his ship got to the green land; Robb, Sansa, Arya, Bran, and even his half-brother Jon Snow. He could see them, if he thought hard enough, if he remembered hard enough. He thought back deeply, but Erik could only imagine what they all looked like now. He had missed them all terribly, thinking of them every day and dreaming of their faces and voices every night. He knew his far too few letters home throughout the length of his journey had no doubt left his family worried and wondering of his safety and well-being. Despite how much love his entire family had for him, Erik knew his father was probably the most worried. Lord Eddard had always held Erik in special regard.

Though in truth, his father loved all of his siblings just as fiercely as the next, including his bastard brother Jon Snow (perhaps especially Jon Snow), Erik knew this. But whenever he would look at Erik, Lord Eddard's eyes would always gleam with a strange emotion hidden behind his solemn face. It was as if he was meeting a old friend even though Erik was only his son. "You remind me so much of your uncle Brandon when he was a boy." his father used to tell him when he was younger. After his time at Greywater Watch, Erik had come to see what his father had meant by those words.

Erik missed all his family dearly, most especially his father. Gods, he missed his father. Erik had always looked up to his father, Eddard Stark. The man was a second son who had a responsibility thrust upon him which he never expected to have. A man of honor with a strong sense of justice, his father was a kind man in Erik's eyes, a just man. Even if the man had fathered a bastard on a woman, his lord father had ruled well and the north had remained rather peaceful and prosperous after Robert's Rebellion, under Eddard's rule. The north had flourished under his father's leadership, Robert's Rebellion, followed years later by the Greyjoy rebellion had made Eddard realized how the north's power had began to plateau and he had worked tirelessly to bring the north back to a state of power.

But more than his father, Erik missed his twin brother, Robb. Gods, it hurt so bad to be parted from his brother. The one who was his other half, his equal and opposite in everything. The calm to his fury and words of wisdom to his reckless actions. Though, as much as he missed his twin, he strangely felt like Robb was with him and sometimes, when he slept, it felt like he was with Robb. It reminded Erik of a warg connection though he couldn't change into Robb's skin and control him like he could a common wolf or dog. No, it was more like they had some kind of weak spiritual connection, perhaps they could speak to one another?

Erik wasn't sure and he wasn't so sure he wanted to find out either.

He was snapped out of his thoughts by a hand placed on his shoulder, a sad smile on Dacey's thin lips, "I'm sure my mother would appreciate that. You're a good man Erik Stark, Lyra would have been lucky to be you wife."

The fond thoughts of his family dashed as grief rolled over him in a powerful new wave. "It's my fault she is dead. I couldn't protect her. I couldn't save her…" the crushing weight of his loss felt like he was carrying the sky and heavens on his shoulders alone.

"You avenged her death and saved her little sister, my little sister. For that, I cannot thank you enough." Her attempt to cheer him up did little to lighten his spirits. She seemed to notice and changed the subject, "though my mother was none too pleased when she found you in my sister's bed. Come to think of it, neither was I." Dacey taunted, palming the handle of her mace with a challenging glint in her brown eyes.

Erik worked hard not to growl at Dacey's words, as he turned to face her. "That may be so but I did vow to make her mine so her honor wouldn't be tarnished. Now I'll never get the chance…" Erik set his jaw in a hard line and turned away from the older woman, his wolfsblood still churning but slowly starting to settle within his veins as the conversation died out.

Behind them, crewmen busied themselves about the dark grey decks of Gypsy Danger as the longship raced across the bay. Erik wanted to take the fastest route home, so he intended to sail for the tidal flats that were just north of Deepwood Motte. From there he'd go on foot around the Deepwood and make his way southeast through the Wolfswood to Winterfell. He had already commanded his crew to sail for the Saltspear after he made it to the green land. He'd expect his men to be at Moat Cailin before he arrived from Winterfell, with the Gypsy safely beached on the banks of the Fever.

"Perhaps you could use the ships that I captured to better protect the bay in my absence." Erik said after awhile, a hint of humor in his tone as his crooked smirk split his ruggedly handsome features.

Within the past year he'd spent on Bear island, he had captured over fifty ships from the Ironborn and burned and scuttled over twenty more. With his aid, Bear Island became able to better interact with the rest of the north and the realm. Capturing the Ironborn ships also helped strengthen the north's military power by bolstering their navy, albeit by a small margin, bringing a fleet to Bear Island for the first time since Brandon the Burner. Something his father had written to Erik, thanking his son for this boon.

Of course, that was until the Ironborn managed to surprise them in the dark of night, burning most of the captured fleet and making off with Lyra and Jorelle Mormont, along with several other woman of Bear Island. Erik, who had been involved with Lyra for sometime before her kidnapping, gathered what men he could, took all the ships that were still seaworthy, and gave chase to the raiders. He engaged them in a fierce naval battle along the Stony Shore and managed to rescue Jorelle before the Ironborn could have their way with the young girl but he was too late to prevent his love from being brutally raped and murdered.

His fury and wrath had ran rampant and wild. Sailing all the way to the Iron Islands, Erik sacked Old Wyk, putting the majority of House Drumm, the raiders who were responsible for the attack, to the sword. And after slaughtering the men who had kidnapped, raped and murdered his beautiful, sweet, lovely Lyra he claimed their sword, Red Rain, though the sword was a poor consolation for his lover's life.

"You forget that the damned squids destroyed most of the ships you stole from them. Not to mention the ones we lost sacking Old Wyk," Dacey unfortunately pointed out, "With you taking the Gypsy as your own, Bear Island is left with less than twenty ships to protect the bay."

The truth of her words caused a frown to marr Erik's handsome features, "Aye, I'll speak to my father about it when I arrive at Winterfell. Who knows, perhaps I can convince him to petition the construction of a fleet. It has been too long since Bear Island has had any naval power and I'm sure Lord Greystark would agree." Even as he said it, Erik wasn't sure he could convince his father, though he knew Lord Greystark would be more than eager to bolster his fleet. "Though the sudden construction of a larger navy could be perceived by the southrons as preparations for war." With the realm currently at a state of fragile peace, somewhat due to Erik's own actions - though civil war seemed to be inevitable for the Iron Islands, with or without his actions. He didn't want to deal any more damage to the realm and be the one reasonable for shattering that peace.

"Well, if anyone can convince Lord Stark I'm sure it'd be his most cherished son returning home!" Chuckled a nearby member of the crew who had been listening in on their conversation. "After all, what lord wouldn't love seeing one of his three beloved sons returning home to him?"

Rounding quickly on the man, his stormy grey eyes flashed with anger. The already cold air of the Bay of Ice seemed to grow almost frigid as Erik struggled to reign in his inner wolf. "Four," Erik corrected through clenched teeth, out of the corner of his eye he saw Dacey shift uncomfortably.

"What's that? Responded the crewman, who was a man of average height and build with rat brown hair and dull brown eyes. The man's name was Herald Cooker, if he was remembering it correctly.

"I am one of the four sons of Eddard Stark. I have three brothers." His settled wolfsblood was now fully stirred once more, this time by the crewman's ignorance.

"You talkin' 'bout that bastard?" That was the wrong thing to say.

Erik was as quick as lightning with the draw of his sword, like a crimson bolt which stopped just short of Herald's throat, Red Rain flashed through the air. The tip of the blade only millimeters from puncturing the man's jugular and killing him where he stood. "A bastard he may be but Jon Snow is my father's son, he has my father's blood, and he is my brother. Be wise and think before you speak ill of a wolf of my pack again." Erik spoke in a half growl.

Before Herald could respond, Erik had sheathed Red Rain and marched to his cabin; the captain's quarters. A scowl maring his scarred face, his shoulders tense with the raging storm of emotions that he was feelings. He was irritated with his father for calling him back to Winterfell when his lovely Lyra was not yet even cold in the ground. Had he no concern for Erik's own feelings? Erik knew that was a foolish thought, for his father had always been a kind one. It was most likely due to Erik's actions at Old Wyk that his father had demanded he return home.

Erik stomped into his cabin, undid the belt around his waist and slumped into the cushioned chair. He slammed his sheathed sword down on the desk with a heavy thud! as he did. He was thankful for the solitude of his own cabin. Gypsy Danger had become his personal haven after Lyra died and he locked himself in his cabin, crying and raging for hours on end, totally wrecking the room. After that night, Erik hadn't spent much time in his cabin, preferring to be on the decks of his ship.

The Gypsy wasn't a very large ship, only spacious enough to carry around thirty crewmen and three months worth of food and supplies. But she was outfitted with four scorpions, which were mounted on the deck. The scorpions were something Erik had been familiar with since he had been obsessed with the stories of Aegon the Conqueror and the dragon riders that followed, as a child. To not only see the fabled weapons that had been able to shoot dragons out of the sky, but to now be the owner of four of the mechanical weapons, Erik was sure his brothers would be beyond jealous.

Erik knew as soon as he saw Gypsy Danger docked at Wyktown's port, it wasn't a originally an Ironborn ship and that's what attracted him to the ship which was now his. The Gypsy wasn't the largest ship but she was quick and nimble, and her lighter, faster firing scorpions made her a threat to all other trebuchet armed warships favored in the south. With a dark grey deck and hull, and snow white sails, it's like she was made for House Stark and Erik had been destined to have her.

He looked around his cabin, a trunk filled with assorted wools, furs, and leathers rested at the foot of a good sized bed covered in untidy sheets and furs. He sat at his desk which had a slight wobble because he broke one of the legs in his grief and rage. That along with the other two cushioned chairs which once matched the one he sat in. They were thrown overboard in Erik's fury.

With a sigh, Erik buried his face in his hands, overcome by all the emotions coursing through him. Hopefully his return home was a happy occasion, old gods knew he needed a relief from the pain that was still stinging in his heart. Erik theorized time spent back in his childhood home and surrounded by people who loved him, would help ease the ache in his chest. For now he could only hope, as Erik Stark made his way to Winterfell.

Well, I hope y'all liked it! Please let me know whatcha'll think about this newer version of the story. Like I said I've changed several things, most of which will be revealed as the story goes along but I hope y'all will stick around to see this. Thanks for reading! (:

As for important characters introduced in this chapter:

Dacey Mormont - 20

Herald Cooker - 27 (he's not super important but he will appear again)