CHAPTER 144
Winterfell.
After subduing the Skagosi, Garon once again invited Chieftain Sparta into the castle to discuss the campaign against the Iron Islands.
Inside the Great Hall, Sparta impatiently watched as Maester Luwin finished bandaging his wounded arm. His gaze swept contemptuously over Sansa and Asha before finally settling solemnly on Garon.
"Lord Garon!"
Seeing that the Maester had finished, Sparta flexed his arm a few times before speaking bluntly.
"You defeated me, so my five hundred kinsmen and I will obey your command."
"Tell me what you want us to do."
Garon smiled faintly, getting straight to the point.
"Chieftain Sparta, we will depart for the Stony Shore shortly."
"From there, we will cross the Sunset Sea by ship and sail to the Iron Islands."
"Please have your warriors prepare for battle as soon as possible."
He pointed toward the map spread across the long table, tapping firmly on the Iron Islands.
Sparta glanced at the location before grinning broadly, revealing his yellowed teeth. His smile carried the battle-hungry nature unique to the Skagosi.
"No problem, Lord Garon."
"My warhammer has been waiting to drink the blood of those sea devils."
"Wherever you lead, we will fight."
His answer came without the slightest hesitation, showing that he had genuinely begun accepting Garon's command.
The first step toward integrating the Skagosi had gone far more smoothly than expected.
Garon nodded before turning toward Maester Luwin.
"Maester, prepare enough supplies within three days."
"Also send a raven to King Robb informing him of everything that has happened at Winterfell."
"If our plan succeeds, Queen Asha and I will land at Seagard by ship before joining King Robb at Riverrun."
Maester Luwin still looked troubled.
He studied the determined expression on Garon's face before finally sighing.
"I will have everything prepared within three days."
Garon smiled reassuringly before shifting his gaze toward Sansa.
"Lady Stark, please accompany Lady Asha to the dungeons and allow her to choose several trustworthy messengers."
Although reluctant, Sansa still nodded.
"I understand."
Seeing that every matter had been settled, Garon clapped his hands, signaling Maester Luwin, Sparta, and Asha to withdraw.
Once everyone had left, Garon slowly walked around the long table before gently taking Sansa's hand into his own.
"Sansa."
He gazed at her tenderly.
"While I'm away from Winterfell, promise me you'll take good care of yourself."
"I don't want to return only to find the woman I love looking exhausted."
His sudden tenderness left Sansa both happy and flustered.
Just as she was about to respond, the scene outside Asha's cell flashed through her mind once again.
She immediately tried to pull her hand away before pouting unhappily.
"Hmph."
"So you still remember me?"
"After seeing how close you were to that sea monster, perhaps you won't even want to come back."
Garon merely laughed.
"Haha..."
"So you're still jealous about what happened in the dungeon?"
His laughter made Sansa's cheeks redden.
She tried harder to withdraw her hand, but Garon gently pulled her forward until she fell directly into his embrace.
Although Sansa continued struggling, Garon softly explained beside her ear.
"Sansa, the circumstances were unusual."
"I had no choice but to use certain methods to make Asha reveal what she knew."
"What you saw was simply her reaction after learning about King Balon's death."
"I've only met her twice."
"Nothing happened between us."
He lowered his head until his lips were beside Sansa's flushed ear before whispering with a smile.
"Besides..."
"My heart has long belonged to the most beautiful Lady Stark in all the North."
"How could I possibly care about anyone else?"
Those sweet words instantly melted the last traces of resentment inside Sansa's heart.
"Hmph..."
"Who knows whether you're telling the truth..."
Her cheeks flushed crimson as she remained nestled against his chest.
The anger that had troubled her for days quietly disappeared.
"I swear before the Old Gods."
"Sansa..."
"If I've deceived you in any way, then may I..."
Before Garon could utter the final words, Sansa quickly covered his mouth.
"You're about to leave on a dangerous journey."
"Don't say such unlucky things."
"I believe you."
She looked at him with gentle affection.
Garon smiled before embracing her once again.
Yet beneath his calm expression, his thoughts remained perfectly composed.
"I won't deceive you."
"But there are always some things better left unsaid."
"Hopefully the Old Gods won't consider that oath false..."
As Sansa immersed herself in the warmth of his embrace, she suddenly remembered that he would soon be leaving Winterfell.
Her worries immediately resurfaced.
"You..."
"You really intend to help that Greyjoy reclaim the Seastone Chair?"
"What if she betrays you afterward?"
Garon gently stroked her auburn hair.
"Don't worry."
"She won't."
"And even if she tries..."
"I'll make sure she never entertains that thought."
Hearing the confidence in his voice, Sansa's anxiety eased considerably.
She remained in his embrace for a little while longer, whispering softly together until one of her handmaidens arrived to summon her.
Only then did she reluctantly leave to resume her duties as acting Lady of Winterfell.
Garon remained alone inside the Great Hall for a few moments before quietly considering everything that still needed to be arranged.
Soon afterward, he left the hall and climbed the watchtower inside Winterfell's inner ward, where Jon Snow was overseeing the patrols.
"Jon."
Ascending the stone steps, Garon called his name.
Jon immediately turned around with an eager smile.
"Perfect, Garon."
"You've come at just the right time."
"I was about to ask when we're leaving so I could prepare."
Garon slowly shook his head.
The excitement on Jon's face immediately disappeared.
"No..."
"You're making me stay behind again?"
Walking over, Garon patted Jon's shoulder helplessly.
"I want you beside me as well."
"But Winterfell needs someone dependable to remain here."
Jon's expression fell.
"Isn't there anyone else who can defend the castle?"
"There is."
Garon paused.
"But no one is more suitable than you."
"Once I leave, if anything happens in the North..."
"You're the best person to protect Winterfell."
Jon froze.
"Something happens?"
"What else could possibly happen?"
Rather than answering immediately, Garon looked toward the southeast, in the direction of the Dreadfort.
Only after several moments did he speak.
"Jon."
"The North isn't united."
"Especially now."
"There are already people watching Winterfell."
"For example..."
"House Bolton."
Jon's eyes widened.
"Roose Bolton?"
"Would he truly dare?"
Facing Jon's shock, Garon calmly explained.
"If I hadn't ordered you to strengthen Winterfell's defenses and remain here..."
"They might already be preparing to seize the castle through deception."
"It was because of this that I confirmed House Bolton's disloyalty."
"At the very least..."
"Roose Bolton harbors ambitions that cannot be ignored."
Turning back toward Jon, Garon placed a hand firmly on his shoulder.
"You're a son of House Stark."
"I need you here to protect Lady Sansa, Bran, and Rickon's home."
"That responsibility is far more important than killing a few Ironborn."
Jon fell completely silent.
The disappointment on his face slowly disappeared, replaced by solemn determination.
He finally understood the weight of the trust Garon was placing upon him.
After a long pause, Jon raised his head.
His grey eyes, so similar to Eddard Stark's, shone with firm resolve.
"I understand, Lord Garon."
"I'll remain here."
"I swear by my father's honor."
"So long as I still draw breath..."
"Winterfell will never fall."
A satisfied smile appeared on Garon's face.
"Good."
"I'll leave three hundred soldiers under your command."
"Work together with Maester Luwin."
"Recruit new men."
"And continue training them."
Jon nodded seriously.
"Yes, Lord Garon."
After giving Jon several additional instructions, Garon left to notify Ron and the others about the expedition to the Iron Islands.
As the news spread, the entire castle immediately sprang into action.
Winterfell began operating like a finely crafted machine, every person moving for the coming campaign.
The relaxed atmosphere that had settled over the castle after the victory against the Ironborn completely disappeared.
In its place came tension, anticipation, and unwavering determination.
During the next three days, Maester Luwin's tower remained illuminated throughout every night.
The old Maester directed his assistants and servants tirelessly.
Supplies were gathered.
Warhorses were fed.
Arrows were replenished.
Armor and weapons were inspected.
Ravens flew continuously toward Riverrun, Sea Dragon Point, Deepwood Motte, and Torrhen's Square, informing their allies of Winterfell's movements while requesting whatever assistance they could provide.
Meanwhile, inside Winterfell's dungeons, Sansa accompanied Asha as she carefully selected several trustworthy Ironborn captives.
Once the candidates had been chosen, they were released under close supervision.
When everything was finally prepared, they would depart alongside Garon's army.
Soon, three days passed.
Outside Winterfell's main gate, Garon stood before an assembled force of twelve hundred warriors.
Accompanied by Maester Luwin, Jon Snow, Bran Stark, and several household guards, Sansa personally came to bid him farewell.
After the customary words of parting had been exchanged, Garon was just about to mount his horse when Sansa suddenly did something that surprised everyone present, though no one found it difficult to understand.
She stepped forward.
Standing on the tips of her toes, she pressed her lips firmly against Garon's before he could react.
The kiss lasted only a brief moment.
Yet it carried an unmistakable declaration.
She was telling Garon.
And she was also telling Asha, who stood watching nearby.
No matter the alliance.
No matter the plan.
This man belonged to her.
Momentarily surprised, Garon quickly responded, wrapping an arm around Sansa before deepening the kiss.
Apart from Asha, whose lips curled into an amused smile, everyone else watched with expressions of heartfelt blessing.
Only after a long while did Sansa finally pull away, slightly breathless.
Her cheeks were bright red, but her blue eyes remained steady.
She looked into Garon's eyes before softly saying,
"I'll wait for your victorious return."
Garon smiled before replying solemnly,
"I'll return."
Once Sansa nodded, he mounted his horse in one smooth motion.
His expression immediately became serious.
Raising his hand high, he gave the order.
"Army..."
"Move out!"
With a pull on the reins, Garon rode to the front of the column, leading the twelve hundred warriors toward the Stony Shore.