The Banquet Begins

By the time Garon was told by a servant to attend the banquet, evening was drawing near.

He tidied his appearance and clothes, then calmly walked out of his bedroom.

He followed the passageway and arrived at the bustling courtyard.

Garon paused on the stone steps and looked around.

Before him, sworn knights, the Kingsguard, and the vassals of the great houses were all making their way into the hall in orderly fashion.

They chatted cheerfully in small groups, looking forward to the banquet ahead.

Suddenly.

Jon, who had appeared from nowhere, waved to Garon from among the crowd. "Garon, over here!"

Garon followed the sound and hurried over with a smile. "Jon, weren't you accompanying Lord Benjen?"

Jon shook his head and explained, "Uncle Benjen went back to rest after meeting Lord Ned."

"He'll be making his entrance with the important folk later. There's no place for a bastard like me among them."

"Fair enough," Garon said with a knowing smile. "Then let a nobody like me keep you company."

Garon and Jon exchanged glances and broke into laughter at the same time.

They walked side by side, following the crowd toward the hall.

A moment later, they entered the hall.

At Maester Luwin's direction, Garon and Jon were seated apart.

Garon was seated with Winterfell's vassals, while Jon was placed at the end of the great hall. Garon's captain of the guards, Roger, was seated at Jon's table.

They were two long tables apart.

Fortunately, both were seated near the side aisle. When the king and the others came in, they would pass right in front of them, giving them a chance to admire their splendor.

Garon first exchanged greetings with Ser Rodrik and the others, then finally had time to look around the hall.

The banquet had yet to begin, and the important guests had not arrived.

Heat filled Winterfell's hall, carrying the aroma of roast meat and freshly baked bread.

The gray stone walls were hung with the banners of the great houses: the white direwolf of House Stark, the golden crowned stag of House Baratheon, and the crimson roaring lion of House Lannister.

"One day, the banners of House Glover will hang proudly in Winterfell's hall, too!"

Garon's gaze swept over the banners, and he made a silent vow.

As the crowd gradually filled the hall, the important guests began to arrive one by one.

Garon rose with the others and looked toward the main entrance.

Ned Stark escorted Queen Cersei at the front.

Cersei strode forward with her head held high like a proud lioness, her gaze fixed on the high seats at the end of the hall. She paid no attention to anyone else.

Even when Ned helped her up onto the dais, she wore only a false smile, never once looking at him.

"Ha, Cersei!"

Garon gazed at the radiant Cersei, and an inexplicable impulse swept through him.

Just then, King Robert entered the hall with Catelyn on his arm.

The king's keen gaze swept imperiously across the room, while Catelyn walked gracefully beside him, smiling with poise.

Garon watched them ascend the dais.

But as Catelyn passed in front of him, she glanced at him, a faint, inscrutable smile on her face.

Garon's heart sank at once.

It seems she's determined to stir up trouble at the banquet.

Did she say something to Robert?

Otherwise, why is she so certain of herself?

His thoughts raced as he silently wondered what Catelyn would do.

But no matter how hard Garon tried to figure it out, he couldn't see how Catelyn could ruin the betrothal.

Forget it. When the soldiers come, meet them; when the water comes, block it with earth!

He murmured to himself, deciding to wait and see, then deal with whatever came.

After Robert and Catelyn came Rickon, struggling to act like a grown-up. He made a solemn entrance all by himself.

But when he spotted Jon at the door, he greeted him with such excitement that his solemn air vanished completely.

Jon burst out laughing and urged him again and again to hurry to his seat.

Next, Robb entered the hall with Myrcella on his arm.

Though she was not yet ten, Myrcella was already growing into a beauty. Robb gazed at her profile with a foolish grin.

Myrcella could only return an awkward, bashful smile.

"Robb, you're embarrassing yourself."

"Didn't you even notice Myrcella's expression?"

As Robb passed in front of him, Garon gave him a meaningful look, but Robb was too busy grinning foolishly to notice.

It wasn't until he had taken his seat that Robb finally caught on and reined himself in.

Next, Arya and Tommen came in as well. They didn't cause any trouble; after all, they weren't close.

Then Sansa entered the hall with Joffrey.

Joffrey looked around the hall with contempt, as if Winterfell's great hall were nothing more than a shabby country hovel, unworthy of notice.

He moved at a leisurely pace, now looking disdainfully at Winterfell's nobles, now turning his head to give Sansa a faintly arrogant smile.

As for Sansa, she wore a polite smile that kept everyone at a distance from beginning to end.

Only when she passed in front of Garon did she show a hint of delight and shyness.

Especially when Garon gazed at her tenderly.

Joffrey keenly noticed Sansa's attitude toward Garon and glanced at him arrogantly.

But when Joffrey saw that Garon was taller and more handsome than he was, a flash of jealousy crossed his eyes.

He snorted and quickened his pace, leaving Sansa no choice but to hurry along after him.

Joffrey's lack of manners made Jaime frown behind him.

He hadn't noticed Garon. He was simply wondering what had made Joffrey fly into another one of his rages.

Tyrion followed behind Jaime, his two short legs moving unsteadily.

The afternoon's sex had indeed proved just as Garon had predicted—

His legs were weak now, yet his face wore a peaceful, desireless smile.

But when Tyrion passed in front of Garon, he made faces at him, leaving Garon somewhat bewildered.

At last, Benjen Stark of the Night's Watch led Ned's ward, Theon Greyjoy, into the hall.

Dressed in black, Benjen smiled and nodded to Garon, who returned the smile.

At Benjen's side, Theon was barely able to contain his wild elation.

Whenever he thought of what Catelyn had said to him before the banquet, an exceedingly smug smile spread across his face.

"Garon, Garon... Now that Lady Catelyn has a plan..."

"This banquet will be your last in Winterfell."

"Want to marry Sansa? Not a chance!"

Theon had suffered one setback after another at Garon's hands these past few days. Even Robb had sided with him, which Theon, with his inflated sense of self-importance, found deeply humiliating.

So when Catelyn approached him and asked him to work with her, Theon had agreed without a moment's hesitation.

Now Theon shot Garon a taunting look, already imagining the frustration and anger on his face later.

Judging by his expression, he and Catelyn have set some kind of trap and are waiting for me to fall into it.

Garon noticed Theon's expression but remained calm. Then let's each play our own hand.

Let's see what you've got!

He steeled himself, ready to respond at any moment.

Once Benjen and Theon had entered, Winterfell's great hall was packed.

Ned Stark rose with a wine cup in hand and cleared his throat, drawing everyone's attention.

"Everyone!"

"The king and queen have traveled thousands of miles to visit Winterfell. It is truly an honor for the North!"

"Let us raise our cups and celebrate the king and queen!"

"Long live the king! Long live the queen!"

When he finished, everyone raised their cups and cheered together.

As the cheers died down, Robert rose without a trace of pomp, drained his cup in one go, and laughed.

"Enough with all the formalities. Let's enjoy the banquet!"

The hall erupted in cheers.