Game of Thrones: The Wolf of Deepwood Motte Chapter 62 CHAPTER 62

Novel: Game of Thrones: The Wolf of Deepwood Motte Author: Mythborne Updated: Jun 16, 2026

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Now reading: Chapter 62 CHAPTER 62 from Game of Thrones: The Wolf of Deepwood Motte, a Action novel by Mythborne.

The mont Bran's dream ended, Garon's consciousness silently returned to the Heart Tree.

The Three-Eyed Raven that had previously perched upon the heart tree had already flown away.

Under the cover of night, Winterfell once again beca noisy because of Bran's awakening.

However, Garon had no ti to pay attention to any of it.

His consciousness quickly withdrew from Winterfell's godswood and returned to the Heart Tree within Deepwood Motte.

Thinking back to the prophecy the Three-Eyed Raven had spoken to Bran within the dream, Garon felt both amused and exasperated.

"Assist ? I am the hope of this world?"

The feeling was so absurd that it reminded him of his previous life, as though he were still that orphan who suddenly discovered a butler standing at his door claiming he was the sole heir to a trillion-dollar corporation.

Garon had never once imagined becoming the so-called hope of the world.

From the very beginning after transmigrating into this world, his goal had always been clear.

A true man born beneath heaven and earth could never willingly remain beneath others forever.

Garon only wanted to lead the iron cavalry of the North, seize the Iron Throne that symbolized supre authority, and then conquer vast lands beneath his banner.

If, after living a second life, he still accomplished nothing of worth, then how would he be any different from rotten wood and withered grass?

That was how he thought, and it was also how he acted.

Yet reality always seed fond of throwing unexpected twists into his path.

"I originally intended to stay out of the struggle between the Lord of Light and the Great Other."

"But now even the old gods have stepped into the ga."

"They've even dragged into it. I'm afraid that even if I wanted to retreat, they would never allow it."

"Damn it, what exactly are these gods trying to do?"

Garon looked toward the distant north.

According to his original plans, he intended to beco king before the Others began their large-scale march south.

Then he would gather together the resources and armies of the Seven Kingdoms, seize Euron Greyjoy's dragon horn, and use it to control Daenerys Targaryen's three dragons.

Finally, he would lead his armies alongside Jon Snow Beyond the Wall to wage war against the Others.

With his familiarity with the future plot, as long as neither the Lord of Light nor the Great Other personally intervened, Garon genuinely could not imagine how he could possibly lose.

Yet now, the old gods, who had always existed rely as background figures in the original story, had suddenly erged into the forefront.

There was the mysterious arrangent between House Glover and the old gods, the prophecy naming him the hope of the world, and the strange attention the old gods seed to focus entirely upon him.

Garon had no desire whatsoever to beco so damned savior.

He was an ordinary man at heart.

What he truly wanted was to beco the one and only king of this world.

"Fuck…"

He cursed inwardly while an intense sense of urgency suddenly welled up inside him, as though ti itself were running short.

However, Garon quickly forced himself to calm down again.

He understood clearly that the more critical the situation beca, the calr he needed to remain.

"For now, I cannot interfere with the old gods' prophecy."

"After I conquer the Iron Islands, I will gather the armies of the North and head Beyond the Wall into the Haunted Forest to find Brynden Rivers."

"At that ti, I will force the exact prophecy out of his mouth no matter what."

Determination flashed within Garon's consciousness as Jon Snow's figure surfaced within his thoughts.

"Jon is an extrely important chess piece."

"My relationship with him must beco even closer."

"Like Robert and Ned once were."

Although the original story never directly confird Jon Snow as the legendary Azor Ahai reborn, countless narrative clues pointed strongly toward that conclusion.

The television adaptation had practically made it explicit.

Jon died and returned to life, fulfilled the vows of the Night's Watch, and ultimately led the living against the Night King.

Therefore, in Garon's eyes, Jon's importance surpassed nearly everyone else.

It concerned whether the army of the Others led by the Night King could truly be destroyed in the future.

At present, although Jon had gradually integrated into life at Deepwood Motte, Garon understood very clearly that if anything ever happened to Winterfell, Jon would leave Deepwood Motte without hesitation to fight for House Stark.

Even if it ant standing against Garon himself.

"With our current relationship, if forced to choose between Winterfell and Deepwood Motte, he would undoubtedly choose Winterfell."

"Should I speak openly with him and reveal my ambitions without reservation to earn his trust and deepen our bond?"

Garon considered the matter for several breaths before rejecting the idea.

"No. It's still too early."

"First, I must make him realize that only I can truly save this kingdom."

"Only then will I reveal my true intentions and make him willingly stand beside ."

Garon calmly looked back in the direction of Winterfell while continuing his analysis.

"Jon values emotion deeply, and House Stark is his greatest weakness."

"It seems that keeping Bran alive for now will maximize his value."

Originally, Garon had planned to quietly arrange Bran's accidental death after he beca a greenseer and after Garon obtained enough information regarding the Lord of Light and the Great Other.

But now, whether for the sake of winning Jon over or because of the Three-Eyed Raven's words about Bran assisting him, Garon decided to let Bran continue living for the ti being.

However—

"If you think you can simply lie there and beco so Wheelchair King, then you are dreaming."

Garon's gaze darkened as he silently decided Bran Stark's future path.

After thinking over everything once more and finding no imdiate flaws in his plans, he allowed his consciousness to grow weary and gradually return to his sleeping body.

anwhile, while Garon continued making preparations in the shadows, the atmosphere within Bran's chamber in Winterfell had beco extrely strange.

The laughter and excitent from earlier had already disappeared.

Robb, Sansa, and Maester Luwin all carefully watched Bran's condition.

Bran lay upon the bed motionless, his heart filled with despair.

He could only bitterly accept the reality that he had beco crippled.

"You must learn to fly…"

In a daze, Bran recalled the words spoken by the Three-Eyed Raven within his dream.

"Can I still fly?"

Holding onto the last shred of hope within his heart, Bran desperately tried to rember the scenes from the dream.

However, the harder he tried to recall them, the more fragnted and blurred those mories beca.

Soon even his head began to ache intensely.

"Ah…"

Bran could not help crying out in pain.

His sudden cry imdiately startled the others nearby.

"Bran, do you feel uncomfortable anywhere?"

Sansa quickly sat beside him.

Seeing his tightly furrowed brows, she gently placed a hand upon his forehead in an attempt to comfort him.

At the sa ti, Robb asked anxiously,

"Did you rember who tried to harm you?"

Bran weakly shook his head.

"I can't rember anything."

"My head hurts whenever I try to think about it."

Hearing this, Maester Luwin gently pulled Sansa aside before carefully examining Bran's condition.

"Do not worry. You have only just awakened."

"You simply need proper rest."

"Bran, for now, try not to think too much."

Maester Luwin softly comforted him, unintentionally giving Bran the illusion that he might soday recover completely.

Bran imdiately asked excitedly,

"Can I stand again? Can I run freely again?"

A trace of pity flashed across Maester Luwin's face, but he still slowly shook his head.

Bran's expression instantly darkened.

His eyes filled with despair and self-pity.

"Go away…"

"All of you, go away!"

"I don't want to see anyone!"

Seeing his younger brother in such a state, sorrow flashed through Robb's eyes while his hatred toward Joffrey and Theon deepened even further.

Suppressing the anger within his chest, Robb instructed the black-haired maid to continue caring for Bran carefully while also ordering the guards outside the chamber to strengthen Bran's protection.

Only after making sure everything was properly arranged did he leave together with Sansa and Maester Luwin.

Along the way, Robb could not help asking,

"Maester, when will Bran's headaches disappear?"

"I want to ask him who tried to murder him."

Maester Luwin slowly shook his head.

"It is difficult to say."

"It could take two or three days, or perhaps several months."

"Robb, for now, simply allow him to rest quietly."

Robb sighed helplessly and could only nod in agreent.

Back within the chamber, after everyone had finally left, Bran quietly began crying once more.

At that mont, he hated himself deeply for ever climbing those walls.

Just then, the direwolf that had been resting beneath the bed climbed up onto the blankets and gently licked away Bran's tears.