Game of Thrones: The Wolf of Deepwood Motte

Galon Glover stood at the center of the dueling ground, his longsword still stained with fresh blood.

His sharp red eyes slowly swept across the Great Hall, and every knight and sworn sword who met his gaze instinctively looked away.

Not a single one dared meet his eyes directly.

The Northern lords who had known him for only a few days remained stunned, still unable to believe what they had just witnessed.

Galon Glover calmly raised his sword and declared:

"It seems the gods still favor me."

The moment his words fell, the entire hall seemed to awaken from a dream.

Robert Baratheon's face flushed with excitement.

He suddenly rose from his seat, his eyes blazing with admiration and even a trace of eagerness.

He strode directly from the high platform toward Garon and burst into booming laughter.

"What a Galon Glover!"

"To possess such swordsmanship at your age!"

Robert's eyes widened as he glanced toward Meryn Trant's corpse lying in a spreading pool of blood.

"Meryn Trant served beside me for many years, yet you defeated him with such ease."

"Still, he died in trial by combat."

"That is an honorable death."

Robert extended one hand, and nearby attendants immediately hurried forward to carry away Meryn Trant's body.

Then Robert took a deep breath, turned toward the gathered nobles, and loudly announced the official result of the duel.

"In the name of Robert of House Baratheon, First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm…"

"I hereby declare that Galon Glover, Lord of Deepwood Motte, has won the trial by combat and earned the right to wed Lady Sansa Stark, daughter of Lord Eddard Stark, Warden of the North."

"The old gods and I myself shall witness this marriage!"

Immediately, deafening cheers erupted throughout the Great Hall.

"Galon Glover!"

"Galon Glover!"

"Galon Glover!"

The thunderous shouting nearly shook the roof beams of Winterfell itself.

At that moment, Garon finally relaxed slightly inwardly.

"From this day onward, Sansa Stark is truly mine."

"No one will stop this marriage now."

Filled with triumph, Garon instinctively looked toward Sansa across the hall.

Sansa covered her mouth shyly, her beautiful blue eyes filled with admiration as they met his gaze.

She had never imagined Garon would truly fight for her in a trial by combat.

To her, this was even more romantic and legendary than the stories of princes and princesses sung by traveling singers.

Ned Stark also revealed a rare smile.

He immediately instructed servants to prepare fresh wine and food.

After all, the feast was far from over.

Soon afterward, Robert raised his goblet and loudly shouted:

"To Galon Glover!"

The entire hall immediately echoed him.

"To Galon Glover!"

Garon smiled faintly and raised his own goblet before draining it in one swallow.

Once a servant refilled his cup, he raised it again.

"To the King!"

"To Lord Stark!"

The nobles once more lifted their wine in celebration.

The atmosphere inside the Great Hall became even livelier than before.

One noble after another stepped forward wishing to drink with Garon, congratulate him, or simply become acquainted with the young lord who had just slain a Kingsguard knight before the eyes of the King.

Meanwhile, not a single person cared about Meryn Trant anymore.

Such was the nature of trial by combat.

The victor received glory and admiration.

The loser was forgotten immediately.

Only Joffrey sat in a corner with an ugly expression, staring resentfully at the now-celebrated Garon.

Inwardly, he continuously cursed Meryn Trant.

"Useless fool!"

"You couldn't even defeat some Northern lord from Deepwood Motte!"

"You embarrassed me in front of everyone!"

Ever since childhood, Joffrey had always been the center of attention wherever he went.

He had never experienced being ignored like this.

Seeking comfort, he turned toward Cersei upon the platform.

Yet what he saw only made him angrier.

Cersei herself was also watching Garon, and there was unmistakable admiration within her eyes.

At the same time, Catelyn Stark sat quietly beside them, forcing a smile despite the bitterness in her heart.

She had never imagined Garon would break the deadlock in such a dramatic way.

Now that the gods themselves had judged the matter through trial by combat, even she no longer had any means to oppose the marriage.

Seeing that neither his mother nor anyone else was paying attention to him, Joffrey finally stomped away furiously and stormed out of the hall.

Garon, however, had no time to care about Joffrey.

Robert himself pulled him to his side and continuously drank with him while introducing him to various nobles.

After seven or eight cups, even Ned Stark began worrying that Garon would collapse from drink and personally stepped forward to rescue him.

Robert, flushed red from wine, had long since abandoned any kingly dignity.

He slung one thick arm over Garon's shoulder and laughed loudly.

"Ned will soon travel south with me to King's Landing!"

"And when we arrive, I intend to hold a grand tourney in his honor!"

"With your swordsmanship, you'll surely defeat all those southern knights and take the champion's crown!"

Robert looked directly at him.

"Galon Glover, how about coming south with me?"

Garon smiled politely before declining.

"How could I dare refuse Your Grace's invitation?"

"It is simply that I have only recently inherited Deepwood Motte and cannot leave immediately."

"If Your Grace permits, perhaps I may travel south after a few months."

Only a few months remained before Robert's death and Ned Stark's downfall.

At such a critical moment, there was no possibility Garon would leave the North for King's Landing.

Robert, however, was not disappointed.

In his mind, there would always be future tourneys and future opportunities to witness Garon's prowess.

He sighed regretfully.

"With your courage, loyalty, and skill, you would be worthy of the Kingsguard itself."

"What a pity…"

At that moment, Jaime Lannister approached holding a goblet of wine.

He smirked lazily and interrupted:

"Your Grace, our young victor has only just secured himself a beautiful fiancée."

"Surely you don't intend to make him swear celibacy and join the Kingsguard?"

"If that happened, Lord Stark might truly become furious."

Ned immediately shot Jaime a displeased look.

Even Robert frowned slightly.

Jaime merely shrugged indifferently.

"Your Grace, may I speak with the victor privately for a moment?"

Ned instantly frowned.

"What do you want with him?"

Jaime smirked.

"Relax."

"I have no intention of harming the Lord Hand's future son-in-law."

"Especially not one so skilled."

"I simply wish to exchange a few words."

Garon smiled calmly.

"It would be my honor."

Seeing that Garon himself agreed, Robert released him.

Garon nodded respectfully toward both Robert and Ned before following Jaime toward a quieter corner of the Great Hall.

Once fewer people surrounded them, Jaime finally stopped.

"After tonight, your name will spread throughout the Seven Kingdoms."

"Some singers may even compose songs about you."

Then the smile vanished from Jaime's face.

"But Galon Glover…"

"The Kingsguard are not all incompetent fools like Meryn Trant."

"If I ever discover you insulting the honor of the Kingsguard again, I will not let it pass."

Garon was slightly surprised.

He had not expected Jaime to specifically pull him aside merely to say this.

Still, he calmly answered:

"The Kingsguard are sworn protectors of the King."

"I naturally respect them."

"So why would I intentionally insult them?"

Jaime stared at him silently for several moments before finally replying:

"It had better remain that way."

After speaking, Jaime prepared to leave.

However, Garon had no intention of simply allowing Jaime to lecture him and walk away.

"This afternoon, the knight asked me a question."

"So now I also wish to ask the knight something."

Jaime stopped.

"Oh?"

"And what would that be?"

Garon smiled faintly.

"I heard that Ser Jaime donned the white cloak and entered the Kingsguard at only fifteen years of age."

"So I wonder…"

"Is the sword in your heart still as sharp as it once was?"

The arrogant smile on Jaime's face instantly froze.

He slowly turned back, staring coldly at Garon.

"What exactly do you mean by that?"

"Nothing."

Garon smiled calmly, his red eyes strangely captivating beneath the torchlight.

"I merely wonder whether serving beside a group of useless drunkards has dulled your blade."

"Your sword is crying out."

Jaime laughed in anger.

Instinctively, his hand reached toward his waist to draw his sword and teach this insolent Northern boy a lesson.

But tonight was a feast.

His sword had been left in his chambers.

Thus, his hand grasped only empty air.

Seeing this, Garon smiled faintly.

"If the Kingslayer wishes to test swords with me someday, I will gladly accept."

Having achieved his goal of provoking Jaime, Garon no longer continued.

He casually walked past him and returned toward the crowd.

Jaime remained standing there with an ugly expression.

Meanwhile, before Garon had even walked far, Robb, Arya, and the others immediately surrounded him excitedly.

"Garon!"

"What did the Kingslayer say to you?"

Robb asked curiously.

Garon smiled.

"He simply wished to discuss swordsmanship with me."

The group instantly became even more excited.

"Really?"

"If you defeat the Kingslayer too, wouldn't that make you the greatest swordsman in all the Seven Kingdoms?"

Arya's gray eyes sparkled with excitement and admiration.

She circled around Garon nonstop while begging him to teach her swordsmanship.

Sansa originally wanted to speak privately with him as well, but Arya's endless chatter prevented her from saying a single word.

Finally, unable to endure it any longer, Sansa grabbed Arya and forcibly dragged her away.

The two sisters immediately began arguing and wrestling again, leaving Robb shaking his head helplessly.

Garon laughed softly before pulling Robb away to search for Jon Snow.

Along the way, he briefly exchanged glances with Roger, who had already returned.

The subtle look immediately confirmed that Roger had completed his task successfully.

Satisfied, Garon finally relaxed completely and threw himself into the remainder of the feast.

Before long, even he became thoroughly drunk.

And thus, the banquet at Winterfell gradually came to an end.