Mother and Daughter's Night Talk

Just as Garon drifted into his dreams, a conversation was taking place in Sansa's bedchamber.

Catelyn stood before the fireplace, watching Sansa, who had just returned to her room from the Great Hall.

"Mother?"

Sansa looked at Catelyn with confusion as she gently closed the bedroom door behind her.

"Old Nan said you were looking for me. Is something the matter?"

"Could it be..."

A flash of shyness crossed Sansa's eyes. She walked lightly to Catelyn's side and shook her hand, acting spoiled.

"Mother, is it about my betrothal to Garon... tomorrow?"

Although she had only met Garon twice in a single day, his words and manners had left a deep, wonderful impression on Sansa.

She was no longer resistant to the engagement; in fact, she found herself wishing for the time to arrive sooner.

Catelyn stared at Sansa, who looked like a girl deeply in love, and felt as if she had been struck by lightning.

She had not expected her daughter to fall so quickly.

Catelyn's face twitched, and she asked with a strange expression, "Sansa, do you want to be betrothed to Garon?"

Sansa nodded shyly.

"Oh, seven hells."

"Sansa, that is Deepwood Motte! Deepwood Motte in the Wolfswood!"

"There are no fields of flowers, no delicious fruits, and certainly none of the warm weather of the South."

"You would have to endure the bitter cold there, and you might even hear wolves howling every single day..."

Catelyn spoke with agitation, a string of disparaging remarks about Deepwood Motte tumbling out of her mouth.

She could not bear the thought of her daughter enduring the harshness of The North for the rest of her life.

Sansa listened with a bewildered expression and could not help but interrupt Catelyn's rambling.

"But Mother, it is the same for me here in Winterfell."

"And I have been living just fine!"

Catelyn was momentarily struck dumb. Sansa had grown up in The North and had never seen the comfort and abundance of the South.

For a moment, she did not know how to explain it.

Catelyn's lips felt dry. She wanted to speak up and describe the richness of the South once more, hoping to dissuade Sansa from the idea.

But before she could open her mouth, Sansa asked a soul-searching question.

"Mother, so after being married to Winterfell for so many years, do you still prefer the South?"

Catelyn was instantly stunned into silence.

A sense of shame and annoyance welled up in her heart, as if someone had peered into her deepest secret.

Sansa, however, did not notice and continued to press her point.

"I am not like you, Mother. I am a daughter of The North, and there is nothing wrong with marrying in The North."

"Besides, Garon loves me very much!"

"And I... I like him too!"

"Mother, don't you want me to marry a man who loves me and whom I love in return?"

"Just like you and Father."

Catelyn had no reply. She loved Ned dearly and had never regretted marrying him.

She only wished that she could be the one to endure the cold of The North, without needing her daughter to stay here and suffer as well.

The Tully family motto had always been Family, Duty, Honor.

The importance of family always came before duty and honor.

However, looking at Sansa's happy expression, Catelyn felt her resolve waver for a moment.

"If Sansa can be happy, perhaps marrying Garon is not such a bad thing."

"No... no!"

"What kind of happiness could there be at Deepwood Motte!"

The moment she thought of Garon associating with bastards, Catelyn's heart hardened once again.

After carefully choosing her words, she prepared to change tactics to make Sansa change her mind.

"If you can be happy, Mother would certainly not object."

Catelyn took Sansa's hands, her tone softening. "I am only worried that you are still young and might be deceived by someone's sweet talk."

Seeing that Sansa wanted to retort, Catelyn quickly added, "Very well, you know the King will be arriving at Winterfell in three days, don't you?"

Sansa nodded, signaling that she understood.

Catelyn stroked Sansa's delicate hand and smiled slightly. "This time, not only are the King and Queen coming, but their children are coming with them as well."

"Do you know what this means?"

Meeting Sansa's puzzled gaze, she explained, "The King's eldest son, Joffrey, is about your age. The King intends to arrange a marriage with the Starks."

"What!"

Sansa exclaimed, asking Catelyn in disbelief, "Mother, do you mean I have a chance to become Queen?"

Seeing that her words had taken effect, Catelyn smiled kindly. "Yes, my daughter, you will have the chance to become the Queen who rules the Seven Kingdoms!"

Sansa was so excited she wanted to jump for joy.

She pulled her hand back from her mother's grasp and paced around the room in excitement.

"Me, a Queen?"

A brilliant smile bloomed on Sansa's face, as if she were picturing herself in the Red Keep of King's Landing.

Unfortunately, her smile lasted only a moment before she suddenly realized a problem.

"But Mother, Father has already promised me to Garon."

"How could he possibly agree to a marriage alliance with the King?"

Catelyn hadn't expected Sansa to react so quickly; she was stunned for a moment before quickly offering comfort.

"Don't worry, Sansa."

"I will persuade your father!"

The smile on Sansa's face faded instantly.

She understood the moment she heard it that her mother, Catelyn, was not confident she could persuade her father, Ned.

She knew that this so-called marriage alliance and the title of Queen were nothing more than flowers in a mirror or the moon reflected in water.

After all, in Winterfell, the word of Ned Stark was what mattered most.

Sansa bit her lip and said with difficulty, "Mother, Father will not agree."

"He has already promised me to Garon, and he will certainly not break his word."

Sansa looked at Catelyn, suppressed the ripples in her heart, then turned and walked to the bedside, saying, "Mother, I am a little tired and would like to rest early."

Catelyn sighed inwardly, knowing that today's conversation had been a complete failure.

She shook her head, said goodnight, and turned to leave the room.

When Catelyn returned to her bedroom, weary in spirit, she found Ned standing naked in front of the window, letting the cold wind blow in.

The cold wind poured into the room, causing the flames in the fireplace to flicker uncertainly.

Catelyn felt a chill rise up and couldn't help but shiver.

Seeing this, Ned reached out to close the window and pulled the thick tapestry curtains shut.

The cold wind was blocked outside, and the temperature in the room quickly warmed up.

Catelyn took off her outer robe and sat at the dressing table in silence, removing her jewelry.

"Did you talk to Sansa?"

Ned asked, though he already knew the answer.

Catelyn didn't want to acknowledge him, but Ned continued on his own. "Cat, although Sansa looks like you, she is a Stark to the bone."

"Being a Stark, how could she ever despise the bitter cold of The North?"

"Your idea was flawed from the very beginning!"

Catelyn was furious; she slammed her jewelry onto the table and said angrily, "That's right, you are all Starks, and I am the only outsider in Winterfell!"

Ned walked naked behind her, placed his hands on her shoulders, and smiled soothingly. "You are already the mother of five Starks; how could you be an outsider?"

"It's just that Sansa and Garon have mutual affection for one another, so why must you play the villain?"

"If you truly cannot bear it, I can promise you that you shall be responsible for Arya's marriage in the future."

Catelyn turned her head to glare at Ned, but unable to contain her frustration, she ended up biting him.

"I am not only going to be the mother of five Starks, I am about to become the mother of a sixth!"

Like a noble cat, she pounced on Ned and pinned him to the bed, whispering provocative words.

Ned, moved by passion, turned to meet her challenge.