"Good day, Lord Ned!"
Garon stepped forward and bowed respectfully to Ned.
Ned rose from his seat and descended from the high dais. He came over to Garon and helped him back to his feet.
"You've grown much sturdier than before," Ned said, clapping Garon on the shoulder with a hint of satisfaction. "It seems you've been working hard lately."
"To keep Deepwood Motte safe for you, my lord, I need to be in good shape."
Garon smiled and dipped his head. "Besides, my father's dying words taught me never to slack off, lest I bring dishonor to my family!"
A flicker of admiration crossed Ned's eyes. He nodded in agreement.
"Good lad!"
"Now that Sansa is betrothed to you, I can rest easy!"
When Garon had arrived, he had already expected that Ned, being so scrupulous about honor, wouldn't go back on his word. But even so, he couldn't help feeling overjoyed now that the matter was settled.
Afraid he had misheard, he asked again, "Lord Ned, do you mean...?"
Robb laughed beside them. "What else could he mean?"
"Garon, we're family now!"
Ned smiled and nodded, confirming Robb's words.
Garon was overwhelmed with excitement. He hurriedly bowed again, but Ned stopped him.
Ned's voice sounded in his ears.
"However, Sansa is still young. You'll have to wait another two years to marry."
"Garon, you have no objections, do you?"
Garon shook his head, indicating that he had no problem with it.
He only needed the betrothal to be legally binding. There was no rush to get married.
"You must have seen the preparations for the king's arrival when you entered the castle," Ned said, changing the subject.
"I plan to have the king and the Old Gods witness your betrothal to Sansa."
"Garon, stay at Winterfell for a few days."
"Once the betrothal is formally sealed, you can return to Deepwood Motte. How does that sound?"
Understanding flashed in Garon's eyes. He promptly replied, "I'll follow your arrangements, my lord!"
Then he feigned confusion. "My lord, why is His Grace the King suddenly coming to the North?"
Ned shook his head, a trace of grief in his eyes. He had clearly thought of Jon Arryn's death.
He already had an idea why the king was visiting the North, but found it difficult to tell Garon.
Ned didn't intend to discuss the matter further, so he was about to ask Robb to take Garon to meet his other children.
But just as he was about to speak, he realized there was another problem.
"Garon..."
Ned paused for a moment, then cautioned him. "I have a foster son from the Iron Islands, Theon Greyjoy."
"With the king about to arrive at Winterfell, I don't want you two causing trouble!"
He knew that Theon's proud nature would surely lead to trouble if he crossed paths with Garon.
So he was giving Garon fair warning, in case things turned violent and got out of hand.
Garon thought it over and understood Ned's intention: he wanted him to avoid a clash with Theon Greyjoy.
But given his position, how could he agree so readily?
"The North Remembers!"
Meeting Ned's gaze, he said solemnly, "Forgive me, Lord Ned, but I cannot yield to an Ironborn!"
Ned was instantly at a loss.
If only I'd had Garon come later...
It was no wonder Ned was troubled. The feud between Deepwood Motte and the Iron Islands was difficult to untangle.
The Iron Islands had always prized raiding, believing that "taking by force is better than tilling the soil."
Whenever the Ironborn had raided the North throughout history, Deepwood Motte had been on the front line of resistance.
That was why House Glover's banner bore a silver fist on a red field.
The words of House Glover were—
Blood-Forged Deep Roots!
They meant that Deepwood Motte would be defended by force, even if it cost them every drop of blood.
And that was exactly what they had done.
Generation after generation, the Glovers had upheld their family oath, like a wooden stake driven deep into the Wolfswood, holding back the Ironborn invaders on Winterfell's behalf.
Nine years ago, Balon Greyjoy of the Iron Islands had rebelled and proclaimed himself King of the Iron Islands.
Ned Stark had answered the king's call and summoned the North's bannermen to put down Balon. Garon's father, Galbart, had gladly raised his forces and joined the campaign.
The two sides had a deep-seated feud, and Galbart had always been the first to charge into battle.
So when they attacked Pyke, Theon's second brother, Maron Greyjoy, shot him in the chest with a crossbow bolt, gravely wounding him.
Over the next eight years, Galbart's wounds never healed completely. They kept flaring up from time to time.
By the time Garon had crossed over, the maester had been unable to save him. All he could do was give Galbart a cup of Milk of the Poppy and let him die in his sleep.
As Galbart's son and the lord of Deepwood Motte, Garon was fated to stand against the Iron Islands, both by personal feeling and by the position he held.
Either the Iron Islands would kill Garon, or Garon would conquer the Iron Islands outright.
There was no room for reconciliation between them.
So even though Theon was Ned's foster son, Garon had no chance of becoming his friend.
Before coming to Winterfell, Garon had already prepared to clash with Theon.
Unfortunately, Ned had seen through Garon's intentions as well.
He fixed Garon with a stern look. "This isn't a request. It's an order!"
"The North must not lose its honor in front of the king!"
Garon understood Ned's unspoken meaning: as long as he acted honorably, Ned wouldn't interfere.
A strange glint passed through Garon's eyes. After a brief silence, he assured Ned, "Yes, Lord Ned!"
Hearing Garon's answer, Ned felt slightly relieved.
He gave a small nod, then turned and signaled to Robb.
Robb hadn't thought too deeply about it. He assumed Garon simply disliked Theon.
After all, Theon's proud nature made him difficult to get along with.
Seeing his father signal him, Robb understood. He took Garon by the arm and led him outside.
"Come on, Garon."
"I'll show you around Winterfell and introduce you to my brothers and sisters."
Garon only had time to nod to Ned before Robb hurried him away.
Only after the two had disappeared did Ned let out a troubled sigh.
News had been arriving one thing after another lately, filling him with pressure.
"Winter Is Coming!"
Ned murmured the words, startling Catelyn as she entered the hall.
"Ned..." She called her husband's name, then hurried over and asked, "Has something else happened?"
Ned came back to himself and shook his head. "Nothing. I was just thinking about the feud between House Glover and House Greyjoy."
Catelyn immediately understood.
A thought struck her, and she pleaded with a glimmer of hope. "Ned, you shouldn't have agreed to the Glover-Sansa betrothal."
"The king will arrive at Winterfell in three days. Given your relationship with him, he'll surely propose a marriage alliance."
"Then our daughter will become queen..."
The moment Catelyn spoke, Ned's mood soured.
They had already argued too many times over Sansa's marriage these past few days.
He couldn't understand why Catelyn insisted on having Sansa marry into the South—even making her a queen.
Ned held his temper and cut Catelyn off, as he had the last few times. "Catelyn, we've already discussed this!"
He took a breath and made one last attempt to explain.
"Galbart was my bannerman. He fought for me and was wounded in the process, and that wound eventually killed him."
"His dying wish was simply for me to consent to this marriage."
"Would you have me dishonor my family and disregard the sacrifice of my bannerman?"
Catelyn knew that her husband valued honor more than life itself. She also knew she couldn't persuade Ned to change his mind on her own.
If they kept arguing, it would end just as it had the previous times, with neither of them satisfied.
So she pretended to fall silent, while secretly turning the matter over in her mind.
When the king arrives, I hope King Robert can persuade him to change his mind.
Honestly, why must our daughter's happiness be sacrificed to preserve his honor?
No matter what, I will oppose this marriage!
Garon, who had been led away by Robb, had no idea what his future mother-in-law was thinking.
Even if he had known, he wouldn't have cared.
With Ned backing him, there was almost no chance of breaking the betrothal once it had been made.
Besides, Catelyn was shortsighted.
Picking a fight with her would only anger House Stark, with no benefit to him whatsoever.
At that moment, he followed Robb through the corridors to the training yard, where he happened to see ten-year-old Bran practicing archery.
Before you continue