The Gift

"Garon, you shouldn't have ignored him just now."

As they walked down the corridor, Robb led the way and tried to make peace between them, just as Ser Rodrik had.

"Theon was just..."

Robb stopped and turned to Garon, explaining, "Theon's just a little proud. He wants to be acknowledged."

"Believe me, his temper could be better."

"But if you spend some time with him, I'm sure you can become friends."

But Garon remained where he was and shook his head slightly. "I'm afraid I can't do that."

Robb was puzzled by his reply.

He frowned and pressed him. "Why?"

There was a trace of displeasure in Robb's voice. Clearly, he was already tired of the conflict between them.

He hadn't expected to nearly botch a simple task his father had assigned him.

If the two of them really drew their swords, someone would end up bleeding, no matter who won.

Robb didn't want to disappoint his father, Ned, over this.

"Garon, you promised my father. Why can't you just give in a little more?"

He stared intently at Garon, hoping to get an answer from him.

Garon sensed Robb's unease and thought, This is troublesome. If I don't answer well, he might hold it against me!

But he blinked, and quickly came up with something to say.

Garon looked sincere as he apologized to Robb.

"I'm sorry, Robb."

"I was too impulsive just now. I put you in a difficult position."

"As for why I won't back down..."

Garon paused, successfully drawing Robb's attention. "Because the North never forgets!"

He drew a breath and explained solemnly, "Robb, you're right. I did promise Lord Ned that I wouldn't provoke anyone."

"But that doesn't mean I have to keep giving in."

"When my family's honor is at stake, I can't back down without limits!"

"I am a Glover, of the Blood-Forged Deep Roots!"

"If even an Ironborn can insult me in Winterfell, what face would I have left to marry Lady Sansa?"

Robb was taken aback. He hadn't expected Garon to frame the issue as a conflict between their two families.

But just as he was about to say something, memories from six months ago began to resurface.

Robb remembered that when Ned had taken him to Galbart's funeral, he had explained the situation at Deepwood Motte and specifically warned him not to mention the Iron Islands.

But after returning to Winterfell, Robb had been busy with other matters and had temporarily forgotten.

Now that he remembered, he immediately realized he had made a terrible mistake.

"So that's it..."

"No wonder Father made a point of warning Garon."

"Damn it, how did I forget?"

Seeing Garon's expression shift, Garon knew there was no need to spell out the relationship between their families. He turned and smiled reassuringly.

"Don't worry, Robb. I'll only be staying in Winterfell for a few days."

"I'll do my best to avoid him while I'm here. I won't cause you or Lord Ned any trouble."

Garon's words left Robb shaking his head helplessly.

He had finally given up on the idea of making the two of them reconcile.

Robb gave a wry smile and said to Garon, "There's no need to avoid him. I'll make sure Theon keeps himself in check."

"Never mind. Let's talk about something else. I'll take you to meet Sansa."

With that, he turned and continued down the corridor.

But after only a couple of steps, he heard Garon call out behind him.

"Robb, wait a moment."

"Before I meet Lady Sansa, I need to pick up the gift I prepared."

Garon beckoned to a passing servant and told him to find his guard captain, Roger, in the kitchen and ask him to bring over the gift he had prepared for Lady Sansa.

"What did you get for Sansa?"

After the servant left, Robb asked curiously.

Garon smiled mysteriously, keeping him in suspense.

"You'll find out soon enough."

"I guarantee it's something you've never seen or heard of before!"

That only piqued Robb's curiosity.

About a quarter of an hour later.

Garon's guard captain, Roger, hurried over, carrying a box wrapped in silk.

"Lord Garon, here's the gift you asked for."

Garon nodded and took the box Roger handed him, then smiled at Robb.

"Come on. Now you can take me to meet Lady Sansa!"

Robb glanced curiously at the silk-wrapped box. Judging by its size, he guessed it could only hold a few hair ornaments or a necklace.

He ventured a guess. "Is it jewelry?"

But Garon only smiled and said nothing. He turned to Roger and waved him away.

After Roger left, Robb finally managed to stifle his curiosity and led Garon to the room where Sansa practiced her needlework.

After winding their way through the castle, they reached the room without trouble.

Inside the room.

Septa Mordane was inspecting the girls' needlework. From time to time, she compared Arya's work with Sansa's, prompting a restrained ripple of laughter from the ladies.

Garon peered inside and spotted Sansa Stark at once, her auburn hair visible as she gazed out the window.

A troubled look crossed her face. He had no idea what she was thinking about.

"Sansa!"

Robb called softly from beside him, drawing everyone's attention.

The moment Arya saw Robb, she noticed Garon standing beside him.

She couldn't help jumping up and calling out, "Garon! That's Garon Glover!"

In an instant.

Beth Cassel and Jeyne Poole both turned their gazes toward Garon, and even Sansa couldn't help looking at him.

Seeing this.

Garon stepped forward with the silk-wrapped wooden box in hand, letting the girls in the room get a good look at him.

He smiled and greeted them with a bow, then added, "I hope my appearance meets with all the ladies' approval?"

His witty manner immediately made Beth and Jeyne cover their mouths and giggle.

Even Sansa, who had been afraid she might have a betrothed, felt herself relax.

She quietly sized Garon up—

He had the brown-black hair common to House Glover and a pair of red eyes. He was indeed as tall and powerfully built as Arya had said, but he didn't seem the least bit bulky. If anything, he looked strong and lean.

His features were regular—not as ugly or handsome as Sansa had imagined, but rugged in the way of the North.

At first glance, his imposing figure was surprisingly reassuring.

"Arya lied to me again. How does he look anything like an ugly bear?"

He still fell short of the prince she had imagined, but at least he wasn't the giant bear Arya had described.

Heaven knew how much she had suffered after Arya came back and told her what Garon looked like.

Sansa shot Arya a discreet glare, then rose with perfect ladylike poise.

"Good day, Lord Garon!"

"Welcome to Winterfell!"

Garon smiled and stepped forward. "Good day, Lady Sansa!"

"I have a small gift for you. I hope you'll accept it!"

With that, he held out the gift in his hands.

Sansa glanced uncertainly at Robb. Standing in the doorway, Robb gave her a slight nod. Only then did she accept the gift and set it on the table beside her.

"What is it?"

She asked softly.

Garon smiled. "Lady Sansa, why not open it and see?"

When she lifted the silk, she revealed a wooden box with a blue-and-white checkered pattern on its surface.

She ran her fingers over the pattern and felt how smooth it was.

"Oh..."

Sansa looked at the lock on the box and discovered that it was made of pure gold. She couldn't help feeling more excited about what might be inside.

"Could it be some beautiful jewelry?"

She wondered silently.

But when she opened the box, she found that it held not jewelry, but a set of exquisitely carved wooden pieces.

The thirty-two pieces were divided into black and white, each set clearly distinct.

Her hopes dashed, Sansa was immediately disappointed.

"Mother was right. Deepwood Motte really is so poor that all it has left is wood!"

Garon keenly noticed Sansa's disappointment. He chuckled, drawing her attention to him.

"Lady Sansa, allow me to introduce this gift."

"Westeros Chess!"