A faint smile slowly appeared on Garon Glover's face as he looked at the furious expression twisting across Theon Greyjoy's features.
From the very beginning, provoking Theon had been his intention.
After all, he had already promised Eddard Stark that he would not cause trouble within Winterfell before King Robert's arrival. If he were the first to draw a sword or openly provoke conflict, Ned would inevitably be displeased. And if Ned beca dissatisfied, the betrothal between himself and Sansa Stark could easily encounter unnecessary complications.
But if Theon struck first, then everything would be different.
In that situation, Garon would rely be defending his own honor.
More importantly, he could use this conflict to slowly drive a wedge between Robb Stark and Theon Greyjoy.
As Ned Stark's ward and Robb's closest companion since childhood, Theon possessed considerable influence over the heir to Winterfell. And in Garon's eyes, that influence was sothing that absolutely could not be allowed to continue.
Power was much like land in Westeros. Position determined everything.
Allowing a future enemy of the North to stand beside Robb Stark would only create endless trouble in the years to co.
Before the War of the Five Kings erupted, Garon intended to completely sever the bond between Robb and Theon.
Only once Robb fully realized that Ironborn would always remain Ironborn, no matter how long they lived in Winterfell, would he agree to leave Garon and the forces of Deepwood Motte behind to defend the North from the Iron Islands.
After all, Garon knew very clearly what would happen in the future.
Theon Greyjoy would return to Pyke as Robb's envoy, only to be manipulated by Balon Greyjoy into betraying the North. The Ironborn invasion would sweep across the western coast while the northern armies fought in the south, leaving castles such as Deepwood Motte vulnerable and isolated.
But if Garon remained in the North beforehand, things would beco very different.
He could use the opportunity to crush the invading Ironborn completely while earning the gratitude and respect of the northern lords.
Deepwood Motte would survive.
House Glover's influence would rise.
And his own standing within the North would increase dramatically.
To Garon, it was a perfect opportunity.
Unfortunately, Theon still had not completely lost control.
Garon's eyes shifted subtly toward the Ironborn youth's hand gripping the hilt of his sword. Although anger filled Theon's face, he had yet to draw steel.
Clearly, so asure of reason still remained.
Garon silently considered whether he should provoke him further.
Yet before he could speak again, a deep and aged voice suddenly echoed from behind them.
"What are all of you doing gathered here?"
Everyone turned imdiately.
An elderly knight with broad shoulders, a stout figure, and thick white whiskers was striding toward the training yard with authority radiating from every step.
Ser Rodrik Cassel.
Winterfell's master-at-arms.
Without even asking what had happened, Ser Rodrik imdiately frowned at the tense atmosphere before him.
"The King will arrive at Winterfell within days, and everyone in the castle is already busy enough," he said sternly. "Do none of you have duties to attend to?"
"Move along now. All of you."
The surrounding servants and spectators quickly scattered under Ser Rodrik's reprimand.
Even Arya Stark, who had secretly hidden nearby to watch the excitent, hurried away before anyone noticed her.
She could hardly wait to tell Sansa everything that had happened between Garon and Theon.
Soon, only Garon, Robb and his siblings, Ser Rodrik, and the visibly stiff Theon Greyjoy remained within the training yard.
After dispersing the others, Ser Rodrik finally turned toward Theon.
"Theon," he said calmly, though his tone carried unmistakable authority, "don't stand around here causing trouble."
"Lady Catelyn is short-handed preparing for the King's arrival. Go help in the main keep."
Hearing this, Theon imdiately relaxed inwardly.
Although his face remained dark with anger, the pressure Garon's towering presence exerted on him was impossible to ignore.
If he drew his sword and won, matters would still be manageable.
But if he lost before the Stark children and Winterfell's servants, the humiliation would follow him for years.
Now that Ser Rodrik had given him a graceful way to leave, Theon naturally accepted it at once.
He nodded stiffly before turning toward the main keep.
Still, before leaving, he shot Garon a cold and hateful glare filled with resentnt.
Robb noticed that look clearly.
For the first ti, a slight crack quietly ford within his trust toward Theon.
However, Robb quickly suppressed the thought and turned toward Garon with a smile.
"Garon, this is Ser Rodrik Cassel, Winterfell's master-at-arms."
"He taught Jon and everything we know about swordsmanship."
Garon glanced briefly at Theon's retreating figure before inwardly sighing with regret.
It seed he had not pushed the Ironborn youth quite far enough today.
Still, opportunities would co again later.
With that thought, Garon turned toward Ser Rodrik and bowed slightly.
"Good day, Ser Rodrik."
Ser Rodrik nodded politely.
"And good day to you, Lord Garon Glover."
Only after ensuring Theon had truly gone did Rodrik continue in a quieter tone.
"Please do not take what happened just now too seriously."
"Theon's temper can be difficult at tis, but he did not truly intend offense."
As Theon's swordmaster, Rodrik had watched him grow from a boy into a young man. In his eyes, Theon's greatest flaw was rely arrogance and an impulsive tongue.
Deep down, Rodrik still believed him to be fundantally decent.
Thus, he instinctively chose to smooth matters over.
Garon rely shook his head calmly.
"Perhaps so," he replied, "but I doubt he and I will ever truly get along."
After all, Garon understood Theon Greyjoy far better than anyone present.
As the son of Balon Greyjoy, Theon had been brought to Winterfell at the age of ten following the Greyjoy Rebellion. Though called Ned Stark's ward publicly, everyone understood the truth.
He was a hostage.
Yet despite that reality, Ned Stark had treated him far better than most lords ever would.
Ned never abused him for being Ironborn.
He allowed him to train beside Robb and Jon.
He permitted the Stark children to treat him like family.
And because of this, Theon spent years desperately longing for true acceptance from Winterfell.
Unfortunately, that longing eventually destroyed him.
When the War of the Five Kings began, Theon originally intended to return to Pyke as Robb Stark's trusted envoy. Yet a few words from Balon Greyjoy were enough to awaken his insecurity and pride.
He betrayed the North to prove himself Ironborn.
Then he captured Winterfell in an attempt to prove himself worthy.
And in doing so, he dood himself completely.
Eventually, Ramsay Snow would break both his body and mind until nothing remained except Reek.
One wrong choice after another had slowly dragged him into darkness with no road back.
Naturally, Ser Rodrik knew nothing about such a future.
Still, even he understood the hatred between House Glover and the Iron Islands.
Thus, seeing Garon's attitude, Rodrik realized reconciliation between the two young n would likely be impossible.
He stroked his whiskers thoughtfully before finally turning toward Robb.
"Robb," he said seriously, "see that our guest is treated properly."
"Winterfell already has enough matters to worry about without more conflict."
Robb nodded sowhat gloomily.
Everything had happened too quickly earlier. Before he could even react, Garon and Theon had already nearly co to blows.
If Ser Rodrik had not appeared in ti, Robb truly did not know how things might have ended.
Seeing the troubled expression on the boy's face, Rodrik sighed inwardly.
There was little more he could say.
After patting Robb on the shoulder, he turned and led Jon Snow away from the yard under the pretense of discussing training matters.
Once the two departed, Robb forced a cheerful expression back onto his face.
"Co on, Garon," he said. "I'll take you to et Sansa and Arya."
Then he looked toward Bran and Rickon.
"Bran, stay here and keep an eye on Rickon for ."
Bran obediently nodded while holding his younger brother's hand.
Robb rubbed Rickon's hair affectionately before leading Garon deeper into Winterfell.
anwhile, on the opposite side of the castle, Arya Stark hurried excitedly back toward the sewing room.
After peeking carefully through the doorway and confirming Septa Mordane was absent, Arya imdiately relaxed.
"Sansa! Sansa!"
She rushed into the room excitedly, nearly skipping across the floor.
Several girls looked up in surprise.
Sansa Stark, however, continued quietly sewing with a fine needle as though she had not heard anything.
Seeing herself ignored, Arya rolled her eyes mischievously before turning toward Beth Cassel.
"Beth," she said excitedly, "guess what I just saw."
Beth blinked curiously.
"Did you embarrass Bran again during archery practice?"
Beside her, Jeyne Poole imdiately covered her mouth while laughing softly.
"Of course not," Arya replied proudly. "I saw Garon Glover."
"Sansa's betrothed."
"And he almost fought Theon!"
The mont Sansa heard Garon's na, her composure instantly shattered.
Her hand trembled slightly.
The sewing needle pierced her finger before she even realized what had happened.
Yet she paid no attention to the tiny bead of blood forming on her skin.
Instead, she looked up toward Arya with startled eyes, a trace of nervousness and panic appearing across her beautiful face.
"He… he's here?"
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