Howl of the Seawolf
By Kaizerfox
Chapter 1
Excerpt from Houses of the North by Maester Tommen, Oldtown, 234 A.C.
…have been three cadet branches in the history of House Stark, of which only two continue to exist to this day and both considered among the "Great Houses" of the North.
The older of the two is House Karstark of Karhold, descended from Karlon Stark, a younger son of Winterfell that was founded sometime before 700 A.C. The records of the founding are scarce but it is believed Karlon Stark put down a rebel lord near the Grey Cliffs and was granted the defeated lord's lands. He initially named his newly built castle Karl's Hold, but over the centuries it became Karhold. House Karstark in the current era is one and are known for providing the brides of many Lords of Winterfell.
The younger of the two cadet branches is House Seastark of Castle Warg, descended from Benjen Stark, younger son of Winterfell that was founded around 250 A.C. after defeating an Ironborn invasion at Sea Dragon Point. When building his castle, he decided to build it at the tip of the peninsula on what he claimed were the ruins of the personal holdfast of the Warg King millennia ago. Whether this is true or not is unknown but the name Castle Warg stuck. Over time, an unnamed fishing village nearby to Castle Warg grew into Wolfsport, the largest trade port on the west coast of The North. Wolfsport is also home to a small fleet built by House Seastark to defend against Ironborn and Wildling raids…
The Trident, 281 A.C.
Consciousness came to me slowly, the soreness of my body coming with it. Must've drank too much again... was the stray thought that graced me first. Eyes still closed, I groaned and opened them, squinting to adjust to what I think is the morning light.
The sight that met me when they fully opened was the interior of a small tent and not my bedroom. As I tried to get up, I felt a soreness all over my body like I had gotten into a fight or something. I looked down at my stomach and saw it bandaged What the hell happened last ni-
A sudden, splitting headache assaulted me as I shut my eyes and grit my teeth. My brain felt like it was going to burst out of my skull as a flood of foreign memories washed over me.
Memories of a large castle of stone and wood and a grand hall where he attended feasts hosted by his family.
Memories of a training yard, where he spent countless hours learning the blade under Captain Donnel.
Memories of his family back home, younger brother Edric, his younger sister Breyna and his cousins Wyman, Jonnel and Yara and his mother Brienne nee Glover.
Memories of his father Torrhen Seastark, the tall, proud man raising him to be the future Lord of Castle Warg. The same man the most recent memories shown being cut down by what I think was a Kingsguard at the Battle of the Trident.
I winced at the memory even as the pain in my skull began to lessen. Apparently after watching my father be killed in front of me caused me (or is it him?) to scream in rage and attack the maybe-Kingsguard.
Looking at it objectively, I was damn lucky whoever he was that he was injured and tired before he even fought my father. Even uninjured and fueled by pure, unadulterated rage the bastard still managed to almost run his sword through my gut before I managed to stick him in the neck. I was doubly lucky that he missed. My luck must have promptly run out because I was unfortunate enough to immediately get hit in the head with a mace and blacked out.
Wait. These aren't my memories. I thought to myself as some of my "normal" memories returned.
Memories of a suburban home in Northern Virginia playing video games but the faces of his family are blurred.
Memories of going to college, graduating with a major in history and working at Colonial Williamsburg, the faces blurred again.
Memories of being drunk with blurred-faced friends, getting behind the wheel, blinding lights, the sound of screeching tires…
I gripped my head as the pain returned with a vengeance. After a long moment, the pain began to recede and I could begin to think clearly again.
Right. I thought to myself as I looked around the tent to see I was alone.
I looked down at myself again and noticed my body seemed different and not from the stab mark. My body seemed to be younger and fitter than I remember. Instead of the twenty-seven-year-old body with a beer gut that never went away after college, I stared dumbly at a somewhat muscular sixteen-year-old body.
I moved my hands across the six-pack abs wondering if any of this was real, then pinched myself and felt a small sting. Feels real.
I looked around my tent and saw a suit of armor with a dent in the breastplate on a stand with my house sigil on it. A running black direwolf on a field of two horizontal stripes, the top one white, the bottom one cobalt blue. Seeing the sigil made me freeze as a name enter my mind: Hugo Seastark.
The name made me realize two things: The first was that I was in Westeros, specifically after the Battle of the Trident in 281 A.C. according to the "native" memories. The second is that Hugo Seastark and House Seastark should not exist because they didn't exist in the books or show.
What made the realization even more surreal and unbelievable is that despite this non-canonicity, I did know House Seastark. Very well in fact.
House Seastark was a custom house I made as a sub mod for a Crusaders Kings 3: A Game of Thrones Mod. The sub mod basically added House Seastark to Sea Dragon Point as a cadet branch of House Stark sworn directly to them. Complete with a full family tree and history so they could be playable across multiple bookmarks, a restored Warg King ruins renamed to Castle Warg (with premade military buildings) and a nearby port town called Wolfsport (with premade economic buildings).
I was no longer in my world; I was currently playing- No. Playing isn't the right word. I AM Hugo Seastark! I thought.
Hugo Seastark was the first character I created for sub mod. He was created for the 284 A.C. start date after Robert's Rebellion with the backstory him being a new lord in the North after his father dies at Battle of the Trident.
But then why is it 281 A.C. according to my memories from here? Right after the Trident no less? That doesn't match up with the books or the mod.
My left shoulder throbbed with pain, reminding me of my wound. I inspected the wound dressing and found it to be surprisingly clean. Must have been changed it recently. I thought.
Footsteps caught my ear as I look to the tent flap being pushed opened by a tall but lean young man with shoulder-length brown hair parted in the middle like mine, and as he entered the tent, I saw his blue-gray eyes zero in on me. He saw me awake and smiled as I recognized him as Wyman Seastark, my cousin and oldest son of Walton Seastark, my uncle and my father's right hand and castellan.
"Hugo"! he cried in a relieved voice and wrapped his arms around me and hugged me close, causing me to let out a hiss of pain as my head began to hurt again. He immediately let go.
"Thank the Gods you're still alive! I thought we lost you too!" He said as the image of my father getting cut down flashes before my eyes.
"Father…" I mumble but my cousin heard me.
"Aye but you got the whoreson who killed him." He paused for a moment. "Do you know who it was and how fortunate you are to be alive?" He continued excitedly.
"A whoreson in pretty white armor?" I reply sarcastically.
"Not just any whoreson in pretty white armor. You killed Ser Jonothor Darry of the Kingsguard!" he exclaimed with a wide smile on his face. That made my eyes widened. So, it was a Kingsguard after all!
"Wyman" I start to say as visions of the battle flash before my mind briefly. "How long was I out?
"In a coma for two days, then briefly went woke up only to get a nasty fever that left you delirious for four days. My father and I were afraid our house was going to lose you too." he replied as my eyes widen.
I process the information. It sounds like the coma and fever was when my soul slipped in and… merged for a lack of a better word with Hugo's soul.
"What happened after the battle?" I ask as I try to recall the aftermath of the Battle of the Trident from what I remember from the books and show.
"After you lost consciousness, I managed to get you out of there. The battle was over at that point after Prince Rhaegar was killed by Lord Robert Baratheon. Lord Stark ordered us to gather our dead so their bones may be taken back to the North, including your father's." He paused briefly. "He and my father gathered the remaining horsemen left of both our houses and rode out two days ago with the Baratheon vanguard to King's Landing. The Lions finally decided to join the war on our side and are also marching to King's Land but for some reason Lord Stark wants to get there first?"
"Probably because they don't want Tywin Lannister getting there first and sacking the city we're supposed to liberating from the Targaryens." I reply absentmindedly as my mind starts to race.
"Hmm. That makes sense I guess." He responds and I'm reminded through memories that despite Wyman being a year older, a great sailor and a talented fighter, was kind of a moron when it came to politics.
Probably why I made him my admiral in my campaign. That and he had the Content trait. I mused before thinking about the upcoming canon events. The Sack of King's Landing, Aerys being killed by Jaime Lannister, the murder of Elia Martell and her children, the death of Lyanna Stark. Fuck, that's a lot of important canon events in a short amount of time and I'm too injured and far away to affect any kind of changes but more importantly,"
"What happens now?" I say the last apart aloud for my cousin to hear.
"Our soon-to-be King Robert was also injured in the battle and has recovered enough to travel so we march for King's Landing in a few hours but I'm going to get a Maester to look you over to see if you're in marching shape." He turned to leave.
"Wait!" I say, stopping him. "While you're at yet, can you get someone to bring me food and water?"
"Aye. Will do." He gives me a lazy wave as he exits the tent.
A few minutes later two servants come in, one bringing a plate of eggs, sausage, bread with a pitcher of water. I thanked them both before proceeding to devour the food in front of me while ignoring the strange look they gave me as they left.
A few minutes after I was done inhaling my food and chugging a pitcher of water, a middle-aged, portly man with salt and pepper colored short hair walked in. I didn't bother to learn his name when he introduced it as I let him give me the Westerosi equivalent of checkup. He gave me a clean bill of health once he was satisfied that my fever had gone but insisted to keep strenuous activities on the march to a minimum due to the head injury. I bid him thanks as he left.
As I started to get dressed to get ready to march all I could think was: What the hell was I gonna do when I got to King's Landing?