Our Way is the Old Way

Summary: An AU series of A Song of Ice and Fire, where little baby Rickon Stark is replaced by the second trueborn son of Eddard and Catelyn, Erik Stark! After six years away from Winterfell, spent wandering the north, honing his skills and abilities, Erik has been summoned back to his childhood home by his lord father.

Disclaimer: Not sure why I have to write this, I think it's obvious that I don't own A Song of Ice and Fire.

Author's Note(s): I've taken a lot of inspiration from some of my favorited and followed ASoIaF fanfics here on FanFiction. So, you may see some similarities to a few of your favorite ASoIaF fics but most of this should be fresh. I tried not to add anything too ridiculous to the story without also subtracting something of equal or similar value (ex. Adding an OC in the place of a canon character) as to not fuck up the story too terribly and keep it relatively canon parallel (canon corkscrew?).

The cover art is a shitty drawing of mine, an pitiful attempt to draw Erik and Strider. The major fanfics that I used for inspiration are Dragons of Ice and Fire by serpentguy, A Time of Wolves by HolyKnightsofTheRoundTable, and The Bloody Wolf of the North by Daemon Belaerys. There are a few others which I've read and was inspired by but weren't on my favorited of followed stories so I couldn't list them here.

I forgot to mention when I first posted this but if you have any questions, comments, or concerns, please feel free to voice them via either review or PM, both are acceptable. I'll do my best to respond and answer your questions without giving away too many spoilers. Reviews are much appreciated! I'd love to hear what y'all think of what I'm writing and where I'm taking the story. Obviously the first chapters will just be building but hopefully Erik Stark will work his way into your hearts.

Word = narrative

"Words" = spoken words

"Words" = thoughts and written words

Words = loud sounds/onomatopeias

Chapter I - Looking Towards Home

Erik • 497 AC, 4/22 • Bay of Ice

The cool sea breeze rolled off of the Bay of Ice, catching the white sails of Gypsy Danger, propelling the longship 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 has 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."

Since he'd been fighting in battles since he was ten-and-two 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 a longsword 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 a 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 childish 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 ten 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, a man grown nearly six-and-ten, 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 of the north, 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 an entire castle 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 Robb and Jon once more, no doubt 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 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. 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 ranging of the north. 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 in he thought hard enough, if he remembered hard enough. Though 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. Eddard had he 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 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 but most of all 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. 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 by the Greyjoy rebellion had had made Eddard realized how the north's power had began to plateau and had worked tirelessly to bring the north back to a state of power. A man of honor with a strong sense of justice, his father was a kind man in Erik's eyes.

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 hilt of her sword 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 past 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 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 bringing a navy, albeit a small one, back into the north, 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 to the sword. And after slaughtering the men who had kidnapped and raped his beautiful, sweet, lovely Lyra he claimed 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 reconstruct a fleet for the north. It has been too long since we've had any naval power." Even as he said it, Erik wasn't sure he could convince his father. "Though the sudden construction of a large 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. He didn't want to deal any more damage to the realm and be the one reasonable for shattering the peace.

"Well, if anyone can convince Lord Stark I'm sure it'd be his cherished second son returning home!" Chuckled a nearby member of the crew who had been listening in on their conversation.

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. "Third," Erik corrected through clenched teeth.

"What's that? Responded the crewman, who was a man of average height and build with dull brown hair and eyes by the name of Herald Cottington.

"I am the third son of Eddard Stark, I have two brothers older than me." 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 made marched to his cabin; the captain's quarters. A scowl maring his handsome 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 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 noisy crash! 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 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 Old Wyk, 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 ships. 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.

Eddard • 497 AC, 4/25 • Winterfell

Eddard Stark held his breath as he cracked open the bear seal of the letter that had just arrived from Bear Island. He was currently sitting in his solar, along with his lady wife, Catelyn, Maester Luwin, Jory and Rodrik Cassel; his captain of the guard and master-at-arms respectively. Everyone watched him with curious gazes, all eager to hear news from Bear Island.

Over the past year, Lady Maege had written to Eddard in several occasions. The first was around nine moons ago, Maege had claimed that his long lost son, Erik Stark, had arrived on the northern shore of Bear Island on a battered boat filled with the corpses of wildlings. It was the first confirmed sighting of his son in over two years since Howland Reed had reported Erik's disappearance from Greywater Watch. And while Eddard was not pleased to hear his son had somehow gone north of the Wall, he was relieved to know Erik was safe and alive. He wanted to tell Catelyn about it but since Maege claimed that Erik refused to speak about it with her or anyone else, Eddard was forced to shelf the issue until a later time. So he chose not tell Catelyn about how their son had arrived on Bear Island, only letting her know that, that was where he was and that he was safe.

The second letter he received from the She-Bear was only three weeks later, concerning Erik's odd behavior both on and off the battlefield. When Eddard learned about Erik's wild fits of fury he was awestruck to say the least. He couldn't quite believe some of the things Lady Maege had written about his son in her letters. One of the letters just about had Ned go completely grey. Lady Maege claimed that she had caught Erik in her daughter, Lyra's bed. Maege wasn't angry however, explaining how she had watched their relationship slowly blossom, jesting that they tried to conceal it. "Nothing slips past the She-Bear," Ned had mused.

Barely a moon ago, Eddard received a letter from Maege concerning the kidnapping of her two daughters and Erik's reaction. Eddard became distraught, unsure of if his son would survive or worse if he would lose his love. Ned cursed his son's recklessness and prayed that he survive. And when word of the sack of Old Wyk reaches Winterfell, it was almost enough to blanch his entire beard from salt-and-pepper to white. Eddard knew that his son was responsible for the act. An act that could be perceived as an declaration of war. Eddard also knew that his son's actions would have repercussions, repercussions which would ultimately fall on his shoulders as Warden of the North and Erik's lord father.

Sighing, Eddard began to read the letter from Lady Maege. She wrote to inform him that Erik had heeded his summons and had left for Winterfell before the letter was sent. Eddard's heart swelled with joy knowing his son was alive and well and was returning home after so many years of being away. But the rest of the letter was far from heartwarming and Eddard's grey eyes hardened like stone as he read over the inked words.

"What is it Ned?" His wife asked, she appeared to have worried of the worst when she saw Eddard's expression harden. "Is Erik…?"

Ned shook his head, answering her unfinished question and she seemed to relax slightly but not completely, sensing something worse than their son's demise had occurred. "Lady Maege writes that Erik has heeded my summons. He has set sail for Sea Dragon Point and is on his way home." Catelyn's demeanor still didn't settle, she knew him too well.

"Well?" Rodrik's voice boomed, "Was the boy the one responsible for the sack of Old Wyk?"

Ned frowned, it seemed word had also spread to the people of Winterfell. He shouldn't be surprised, he didn't doubt that the entire north knew of his son's visit to the Iron Islands by now. "Aye, Erik led the sack on Old Wyk. Lady Maege wrote to inform me that Erik managed to rescue her daughter Jorelle and many other captive women, un- unfortunately," Ned's voice faltered and he saw the worry fill Catelyn's face while Jory and Rodrik both adapted rather serious expressions, understanding what he was failing to say. "Unfortunately Erik was unable to rescue Lyra in time."

Catelyn gasped, clasping her hands to her lips as tears welled at the corners of her crystal blue eyes. Ned reached out and took one of her small hands in his larger calloused palms. "Our poor boy," Catelyn whispered barely audible. Eddard had told Catelyn about Erik's involvement with Lyra Mormont, Catelyn had mixed feelings about their son's actions in the bedchamber but when Maege had mentioned Erik vowed to wed Lyra after seeking Ned's approval.

Ned frowned and squeezed Catelyn's hand reassuringly, he was quite distraught over these events. His son had lost the woman he had willingly vowed to take as a wife. Maege had described it as "...he growled and barked, claiming her as his. He begged me for her hand even after he had taken her maidenhead. I think your boy is blind in love with my daughter, Ned…" the thought made his frown deepen. Erik had been in love with Lyra Mormont and she was stolen from him.

Eddard would have to inform Robert of this, no doubt the King would already know of the sack of Old Wyk. It was imperative that Ned explain the situation before Robert lost his head and stormed north demanding Ned answer for his son's actions. If war broke out because of this it would all be on Ned's head. He sighed, shaking those thoughts from his head. Robert, even after all these years of being apart and somewhat at ends, was still one of best friends. Ned had no doubt the King would side on his favor over the Ironborn, especially since his son had the right of it to begin with.

Making up his mind on the matter of the Ironborn, Eddard decided he'd write to Robert after Erik arrived, that way he'd get the absolute truth of the matter from his son's mouth. Nodding to himself, Ned began to debating on if he should inform his other children of Erik's pending arrival. With a soft smile, Ned made his decision rather easily.

"Jory, please go find my children and bring them here. I'm sure they'll want to hear the news of their brother's return," Ned ordered his captain of the guard, who simply nodded in response before turning and exiting the solar to find Eddard's children.

After Jory left, Ned dismissed Luwin and Ser Rodrik while he and Catelyn waited for their children to arrive.

"Our boy is coming home Ned," Catelyn whispered and he hummer in response, wrapping his arm around her shoulder to comfort her. "But he's not our boy anymore, the world has ripped his heart out and smashed it into pieces." Tears welled at her eyes and Ned was quick to brush them aside as they rolled down her cheeks.

"Erik will have changed, yes. Life will have hardened him and forced him to grow, Howland told us what the greensight can do to those with the sight Cat," in truth Eddard didn't fully understand it but his son possessed the ancient abilities the First Men had learned from the Children of the Forest. It briefly led him to wonder if his other children possessed similar abilities to Erik. "but he is still our boy, that will never change." Ned stated, Erik would always be his son. A Stark of Winterfell.

After a few minutes, Eddard's four trueborn children were standing in his solar, with inquisitive looks plastered on their faces. Eddard waited, hoping to see his bastard son, Jon Snow. When the solemn young man stepped into the roof after his sisters, a faint smile touched the Quite Wolf's lips.

"Thank you Jory, you can go." Ned nodded to the man and he also left the room, leaving just the Stark family in the solar along with Jon Snow.

Eddard eyed each of his children; his eldest son and heir, Robb, stood behind his younger brother, Bran, his third trueborn son, both boys had their mother's auburn hair and blue eyes to contrast their half-brother and wayward brother's strong Stark features. His daughters, Sansa and Arya were opposites in everything, from their appearance, with Sansa favoring her mother's Tully heritage while Arya took heavily to Eddard's Stark blood, to their personalities, Sansa the picture of a lady but Arya had much of the wolfsblood in her, akin to her elder brother Erik. "Arya and Erik are much like Lyanna and Brandon," Eddard thought to himself with a frown. Hopefully his children will not share similar fates to his siblings.

"What is it father?" Robb asked with a knowing look in his eyes. Ned had spoken to Robb about his younger brother, Erik, on several occasions. He had told his eldest son of his younger brother's adventures over the years and Robb asked of his wayward brother frequently. Ned could tell he longed to be reunited with Erik as much as Eddard did, the two boys had always been close.

"Yes father," Sansa urged, "why have you gathered us here?" It seemed like she had heard the rumors of her elder brother's actions on the Iron Islands, her eyes betrayed her curiosity. While Sansa hadn't expressed much interest in her brother's travels and adventures over the years, right now she was simply eager to learn the latest gossip.

"Your brother, Erik is currently making his way to Winterfell," Eddard admitted to his children, watching them to gauge their reactions, his grey eyes hard as stone.

His son Robb was more than pleased, a big grin spread over his face and his blue eyes twinkled with joy. Eddard could see similar reactions from his other trueborn children with Arya letting out an excited cheer and while Sansa had a more tempered reaction, she was clearly pleased her wayward brother was returning home. Jon Snow had a more guarded expression, trying not letting his emotions show but Ned caught his eyes and a smile touched Jon's lips for a brief moment.

"Erik's coming home?!" Bran was beyond ecstatic and jumped up and down with glee. The boy was only four when Erik had left, barely old enough to remember his older brother but his siblings, mother, and (especially) Eddard himself had told Bran stories of Erik over the years. Eddard hoped that Bran and Erik would have a chance to bond since Bran was much too young when Erik left all those years ago.

"Aye, Lady Maege has written to inform me that he has already left Bear Island. He was probably just reaching the mainland around the time I received her letter." Ned explained, "He should be here within a weeks time, perhaps longer if he is delayed." Gods, Ned hoped he wasn't delayed. He missed his son terribly.

"Do you think he's bringing us back anything from his adventures?" Arya piped up almost exploding with excitement.

Ned frowned and looked at at his wife out of the corner of his eye. She met his sideways glance and Ned hesitated before turning back to his youngest daughter, "I… I'm sure Erik will have thought of you while he was away." Eddard prayed his illusive answer satisfied his daughter and when she beamed with glee he let out a sigh of relief, now praying Erik had gotten his younger sister a gift least she wreck havoc across the keep.

"I'm also sure you brother will have many exciting stories to you once he's returned as well," Catelyn spoke up then, though she eyed Ned dangerously. He couldn't blame her, he refused to tell her most of what he had learned about his son, she didn't understand he was doing it for her good. She'd likely go into hysterics if she learned of their son's visit beyond the Wall, Eddard himself didn't even know the extent of that venture. Erik had refused to write about it and according to Maege, he had refused to speak of it with her. It left Ned no choice but to not mention any of it with his wife.

"Yes, I'm sure Erik has many tales to tell. Not even I know where all he has gone or what all he has done," Eddard admitted to not only his children but he was also aiming the comment at his wife. "Though according to Lady Maege Mormont, Erik has refused to speak of his journey with almost everyone."

Catelyn seemed surprised by his revelation and as did most of his children. Though Arya grinned triumphantly, "I'll get him to tell me! I'll be the first to know all about Erik's adventures!" She declared with determination.

"I want to hear Erik's adventures first!" Bran cried, trying to be heard over his sister's cheering.

"Alright, alright," Ned tried to settle his children. "Let's pray that Erik decides to grace us with his tales," he smiled warmly at his children. "Alright off to bed now," Ned stood, motioning his children out of the door, "Not you, Robb, Jon, you two stay here. Cat, will you take the others to bed."

His lady wife nodded, knowing what he meant to tell her son and his bastard. She gave Jon a dirty look before guiding their younger children out of the solar, leaving Ned alone with Robb and Jon.

"Is there anything else, father?" Jon Snow asked, and Ned's heartwarmed despite what he was about to tell his sons.

"Yes," Ned frowned deeply, "your brother has recently lost someone very close to him... Her death may affect his behavior. So I want you two to keep an eye on your brother once he arrives." Eddard chose not to elaborate upon his words and a stern glare shoot down any potential questions that his sons may have had.

He sent the boys to bed and let out a long deep breath. Despite all the sorrow his sons had recently went through, Eddard felt like his son's return to Winterfell would be a joyful occasion. And Eddard was sure that time spent with his family and around those who loved him would be good for Erik. For now, Eddard could only wait as his son made his way for Winterfell.