Accompanied by Jon Snow, Garon spent the entire afternoon wandering through every corner of Winterfell. From the training yard to the old towers, from the winding corridors of the inner keep to the ancient stone bridges connecting the castle walls, the two gradually beca more familiar with one another. They were close in age, and their temperants unexpectedly matched well. Jon was quiet yet thoughtful, while Garon possessed enough experience and emotional intelligence to easily guide conversations into comfortable territory. As a result, the two quickly grew close.
More importantly, both of them shared a similar experience within Winterfell itself.
Neither was truly welcod by Catelyn Stark.
That subtle similarity unconsciously drew them together much faster than ordinary friendship ever could. Under Garon's deliberate yet natural guidance, Jon gradually lowered his guard more and more throughout the afternoon. By the ti sunset approached, Jon already regarded Garon as soone he could genuinely trust.
At dusk, the two climbed the bell tower together.
High above Winterfell, they stood side by side beneath the enormous bronze bell while quietly watching the setting sun sink toward the distant horizon. The long sumr evening dyed the sky crimson and gold, while the cold northern wind swept gently across the castle walls.
Jon's expression gradually beca absent-minded.
After a long silence, he finally spoke softly.
"Garon… to be honest, I've never truly known what my future is supposed to be."
His eyes remained fixed on the distant sunset as he continued.
"Robb will inherit Winterfell one day. Bran can beco one of his bannern and fight for House Stark."
"But …"
Jon lowered his head slightly.
"I'm only a bastard."
There was deep confusion and helplessness hidden in his voice.
"Perhaps Theon is right. Maybe my final destination really is the Night's Watch."
Garon quietly observed Jon for several monts before shaking his head slowly.
"You're thinking far too much."
Then he added calmly, "Can a bastard not accomplish great things?"
Jon laughed bitterly at those words.
"A bastard is only mocked and looked down upon by the world."
"How could soone like that ever accomplish anything great?"
Seeing Jon so dejected, Garon did not imdiately comfort him. Instead, he calmly asked another question.
"Have you ever heard of House Justman?"
Jon frowned slightly and shook his head.
"No."
Garon turned his gaze back toward the fading sunset before speaking slowly.
"House Justman once ruled the Riverlands as Kings of the Trident for more than two centuries."
"The founder of that house, Benedict Rivers, was also a bastard."
Jon's expression shifted slightly.
Garon continued steadily, "Benedict the Bold spent decades crushing every rival lord and petty king throughout the Riverlands until he finally crowned himself king."
Then Garon turned toward Jon once more.
"Do you know what that ans?"
As he spoke, the ambition hidden deep within his heart unconsciously surged outward. Even his tone beca more passionate.
The crimson glow of the sunset reflected within his red eyes, giving them an almost burning intensity.
Jon found himself involuntarily drawn toward that gaze.
Without waiting for Jon to answer, Garon spoke the conclusion himself.
"Humble origins are never disgraceful."
"To endure, adapt, and continue moving forward despite everything…"
"That is what makes soone worthy of being called a hero."
Jon's breathing unconsciously slowed.
The words struck him like thunder.
For a mont, he could only stare blankly at Garon as though seeing him in a completely different light.
Then, almost unconsciously, Jon repeated the words softly to himself.
"Humble origins are not disgraceful…"
"To endure and adapt… that is what makes a hero?"
Garon nodded slowly, but his eyes had already drifted back toward the horizon.
At that mont, his thoughts no longer belonged solely to Jon Snow.
They belonged to himself as well.
After all, his own situation was hardly any better.
Deepwood Motte was poor. House Glover possessed neither overwhelming soldiers nor vast wealth. He had no dragons, no legendary bloodline awakening, and no miraculous power capable of instantly changing fate. If he truly intended to compete for the Iron Throne using only the few thousand soldiers hidden within the Wolfswood, then by ordinary logic, it was nothing more than a fantasy.
That small force was not even enough to fully conquer the North itself.
But so what?
Where there was ambition, there would always be opportunity.
More importantly, Garon possessed knowledge no one else in Westeros had.
He understood the future.
He knew the hidden truths behind the major players in the coming Ga of Thrones. He knew who would rise, who would fall, who would betray, and who would die.
That advantage alone already surpassed everyone else.
If he still failed despite all that…
Then perhaps he truly was no different from Joffrey Baratheon.
Beside him, Jon's previously lifeless eyes slowly regained their light.
Garon's words had reignited sothing inside him.
After hesitating briefly, Jon finally asked seriously, "Then what should I do?"
Garon smiled faintly.
"Set yourself a goal."
"And then move toward it."
Jon blinked.
"That simple?"
"It's exactly that simple."
Garon casually patted Jon's shoulder like an older brother guiding soone younger.
"Don't waste ti worrying whether the goal sounds absurd or whether others think it can be achieved."
"What matters is continuing to move toward it."
"Even if you fail in the end, at least you'll know you truly tried."
Jon silently listened to every word.
The confusion and gloom that had weighed upon him for years seed to gradually loosen little by little beneath Garon's encouragent.
After thinking for a while, Jon asked again, "But how do I even determine my goal?"
Garon lightly pointed toward Jon's chest.
"That's sothing only you can answer yourself."
"Others can guide you, support you, or help you along the road ahead."
"But no one can decide your ambition for you."
Jon fell silent once more.
anwhile, Garon quietly observed him while inwardly feeling increasingly satisfied.
For the first ti, he finally understood why so people in his previous world enjoyed playing the role of ntor so much.
Watching soone regain confidence through your own words truly brought an indescribable sense of satisfaction.
Naturally, Garon's actions toward Jon were not entirely selfless.
From the very beginning, he had already regarded Jon Snow differently from everyone else in Winterfell.
His own foundation was far too weak.
If he truly wanted to compete for the Iron Throne in the future, then he needed talent more than anything else.
And throughout the story of Ga of Thrones, Jon Snow undoubtedly qualified as one of the greatest talents in Westeros.
From joining the Night's Watch to eventually becoming Lord Commander, Jon repeatedly proved both his intelligence and leadership ability. Although he occasionally allowed emotions to cloud his judgnt, his overall potential remained terrifyingly high.
How could Garon possibly allow such a person to waste his life guarding the Wall?
As these thoughts crossed his mind, Jon remained staring quietly toward the fading light of sunset.
His lips moved softly as though speaking to himself.
"I need a goal…"
"But what exactly is my goal?"
Garon smiled slightly but did not interrupt him further.
At the sa ti, part of his own attention had already shifted toward the invitation waiting for him in the godswood tonight.
Ti gradually passed.
Eventually, the final traces of sunlight disappeared completely beneath the horizon, and the sky slowly darkened into deep blue evening.
At that mont, footsteps echoed from the spiral stone staircase below.
A servant climbed onto the bell tower and visibly relaxed after seeing both Jon and Garon present.
"Lord Garon," the servant said respectfully, "Lord Stark invites you to dinner."
Garon nodded calmly.
"I understand. We'll co imdiately."
After bowing politely, the servant departed once more.
Garon then clapped Jon lightly on the shoulder, pulling him out of his thoughts.
"It's ti to return."
"As for your goal, there's no need to rush."
"Sotis, searching for one's purpose is itself part of life."
Jon looked slightly confused and clearly did not fully understand the deeper aning behind Garon's words.
However, Garon rely smiled without explaining further.
Turning around, he casually patted Jon's shoulder again before heading toward the staircase.
"Co on. Lord Stark is waiting for us."
Jon answered with a quiet "Mm," quickly gathering himself before following after Garon.
By the ti the two arrived at Winterfell's Great Hall, candles had already been lit throughout the chamber.
Warm firelight flickered against the stone walls while the long tables had already been prepared for dinner.
The mont he entered, Garon politely bowed toward Ned Stark and Catelyn Stark seated at the head of the hall.
"Lord Stark. Lady Stark."
Ned smiled warmly after Garon straightened.
"We're practically family already. There's no need for excessive formality."
"Sit down."
Garon smiled and nodded before taking his seat.
Ignoring the coldness hidden within Catelyn's gaze, he calmly sat beside Bran Stark while Jon took his usual place near the lower end of the table alongside Theon Greyjoy.
The mont Garon sat down, Sansa secretly glanced toward him.
Unfortunately for her, Garon imdiately noticed.
Their eyes t directly.
Like a startled deer, Sansa quickly lowered her gaze with reddened cheeks.
Seeing her reaction, Garon smiled knowingly.
That scene naturally did not escape Catelyn Stark's notice either.
Imdiately, the displeasure within her heart deepened even further.
She had guarded against countless possibilities all day long, yet she never expected her own daughter would be the first to lower her defenses toward Garon.
Catelyn imdiately shot Sansa an irritated glare.
Unfortunately, Arya misunderstood the aning entirely.
Thinking her mother was angry because she had secretly escaped needlework lessons again earlier, Arya instantly shrank her neck nervously.
anwhile, Sansa remained completely imrsed in her embarrassnt and failed to notice Catelyn's expression at all.
Thus, Garon's first dinner inside Winterfell unfolded beneath an extrely strange atmosphere.
The al itself was simple northern fare consisting mainly of roasted at pie, bread, and vegetable stew. Ned Stark was never soone who enjoyed excessive conversation during als, so the hall remained relatively quiet throughout dinner.
Each person present seed occupied by their own thoughts.
When the al finally ended, Ned Stark rose from his seat first.
Clearly, he intended to leave the younger generation together for a while longer so that Garon and Sansa could continue becoming more familiar with one another.
Before leaving, Ned smiled faintly and reminded everyone, "Don't stay up too late. Tomorrow will still be busy."
The Stark children obediently nodded.
At that mont, however, Garon suddenly spoke.
"Lord Stark, before resting tonight, I would like to spend so ti praying in the godswood."
Ned looked mildly surprised.
However, after briefly considering that perhaps it was so custom practiced by House Glover and the old gods of the Wolfswood, he simply nodded in agreent.
"Very well."
"I'll inform the guards to allow you passage."
Seeing that Garon had no further requests, Ned finally turned and left the hall together with Catelyn Stark.
After hearing about the conflict earlier that day, he clearly intended to have a serious discussion with his wife before matters worsened further.
User Comments
0 comments from readers