Winterfell, the Great Hall.
Maester Luwin called for Hodor to carry Bran back to his chamber, while Robett and Galon's retainers discreetly withdrew.
In an instant—
Only Galon and Sansa remained in the hall.
Their eyes met without intention, as if drawn together by an unseen force. Neither of them looked away.
The air slowly grew warm and intimate.
'Composure, composure!'
'Sansa, you must keep your composure!'
She urged herself on in her heart. After a long moment, she forced a calm tone and said, "Galon, shall I take you for a walk in the godswood?"
The moment the words left her mouth, she seemed afraid he might refuse and hurriedly added an explanation.
"There are people everywhere in Winterfell these days. Only there is quiet."
Galon paused slightly, then a smile appeared in his eyes.
"Very well. I'll trouble you, Lady Sansa."
He extended his hand in invitation.
When Sansa stepped to his side, Galon matched her pace, and together they headed toward the godswood.
Along the way, people came and went.
Nobles wearing the sigils of different houses moved about with their soldiers. Whenever they saw Sansa, they greeted her warmly.
Some of the younger lords even looked at her with open admiration.
Sansa returned their greetings politely, yet her eyes kept drifting toward Galon, as if waiting for something.
Galon noticed this and decisively stepped forward to spare her the attention.
The young lords, seeing Galon's tall figure, quickly remembered that this man was Sansa's betrothed.
"The Bear Slayer…"
Their expressions changed at once. Forcing awkward smiles, they retreated in embarrassment.
Galon could not be bothered with them. He chatted lightly with Sansa as they continued toward the godswood.
When they reached the iron gate of the godswood, the noise around them faded away at once.
Sunlight filtered through the branches onto the forest path. A cold breeze stirred now and then, rippling the dark pool before the heart tree.
Galon and Sansa walked together, talking quietly.
Sansa confided her worries and fears from these past days, telling him how she came to the godswood every night to pray for her family's safety.
Galon understood all too well.
On countless nights, he had listened to the young girl's thoughts through the heart tree.
He comforted her gently. "Lady Sansa, don't worry. Lord Eddard and Arya and the others will surely be safe."
"When I march south, I will bring them back from King's Landing."
His promise eased her heart.
She stopped before the heart tree and faced Galon. After glancing around to be sure no one was nearby, she spoke softly.
"Galon, do you remember that when we last parted, I promised to make you a cloak from the hide of the great bear you hunted?"
Galon nodded. "Of course I remember. I've been looking forward to it every day at Deepwood Motte."
Her smile grew brighter. "Wait here for a moment."
She moved lightly behind the heart tree and retrieved a bundle that she had asked a maid to place there in advance.
Galon's eyes lit up. "Is that the cloak? Is it finished already?"
Sansa smiled broadly and nodded.
She set the bundle on the mossy stone before the heart tree and drew out a dark brown bearskin cloak.
"Try it on and see if it fits."
Holding up the cloak, she gestured for Galon to come closer.
Galon stepped forward. Just as he reached out to take it, he noticed Sansa lifting the cloak a little higher, as if she meant to place it on him herself.
His heart stirred. He withdrew his hand and bent slightly to match her height.
Sansa rose onto her toes, a shy light flashing in her eyes, and gently draped the cloak over Galon's shoulders.
The bearskin was thick and warm, chasing away the chill he had carried from his journey.
She slowly brought the ties around to his chest, her fingers clumsy yet earnest as she fastened the knot.
They stood very close. Galon could easily catch the soft fragrance of her.
"The bearskin came from your own hunt. It carries your courage."
She finished tying the knot and looked up at him, her voice gentle.
"Now I hope it will bring you good fortune, and that you'll return safely from the battlefield."
Feeling their breaths mingle, Galon could not help but grasp her wrist lightly.
"Thank you, Sansa. This is the finest gift I've ever received."
Their gazes locked together, the world around them fading away.
No one knew who moved first.
Galon leaned down slightly. Sansa did not retreat, but instead lifted her face.
The next moment—
They kissed, forgetting everything else.
A raven fluttered down and perched on a branch, tilting its head as it watched.
Just then, a breeze passed through the godswood. The heart tree's red leaves rustled softly, as if singing in a low whisper for their feelings.
After some time, they finally parted.
Sansa's cheeks were flushed, her breathing unsteady, yet she did not look away.
Galon met her gaze warmly. "Sansa."
He spoke her name softly, no longer "Lady Sansa," but with quiet intimacy.
She answered with a gentle sound.
Resting against his arm, she listened to his steady heartbeat and felt the warmth of the bearskin cloak.
For a moment—
She wished time would stop forever.
But the more she wished for that, the sooner reality intruded.
Soon, hurried footsteps echoed through the godswood, startling them from their sweetness.
Sansa instinctively slipped from Galon's embrace and stepped aside, straightening her clothes.
"Lady Sansa, something's wrong. Lord Robb has clashed with Last Hearth. Maester Luwin says you and Lord Galon must come at once."
A dark-haired maid ran up, breathless.
Sansa's expression changed. Just the thought of Greatjon Umber's massive, muscle-bound figure made fear rise in her chest.
Fortunately, Galon soothed her at once.
He smiled at her and said quietly, "Don't be afraid. I'm here."
Her heart settled immediately.
As the maid drew closer, Galon fixed her with a sharp gaze and asked what had happened.
After catching her breath, the maid said, "Lord Galon, I don't know all the details. It seems Lord Robb argued with Lord Umber over something."
"Then Maester Luwin sent me to fetch you."
Galon and Sansa exchanged a look.
They did not delay and followed the maid toward the great hall.
At that moment, the hall was already on the brink of violence.
Robb stood by the long table, his expression dark. He had gone to the winter town to mediate the conflict between House Bolton and House Cerwyn.
But upon reaching the Smoking Log tavern, he learned that House Umber was also involved—and that blood had been spilled.
One dead, three wounded.
His head had begun to ache at once.
The bannermen gathered at Winterfell all had their own agendas, yet most still hesitated to openly defy him.
Only House Umber was truly unruly.
Greatjon Umber had questioned Robb more than once already. Robb feared he would continue to stir trouble.
As expected.
When Robb summoned the Boltons, Cerwyns, and Umbers, the first two accepted his judgment.
Greatjon, however, rejected Robb's mediation outright, shouting that those who harmed House Umber must pay.
Other lords, sensing the tension, arrived as well, eager to see how Robb would handle it.
Caught in a bind, Robb stared coldly at Greatjon Umber, who sat blustering in his chair, and cut him off.
"I'll say this one last time. This matter ends here."
"And who do you think you are?"
Greatjon leapt to his feet, beard bristling, eyes blazing.
"You're nothing but a wet-behind-the-ears boy, probably still pissing green! What right do you have to command me?"
His sons, brothers, and men crowded behind him, all glaring at Robb.
At that moment, a sharp, decisive voice rang out from the doorway.
"Because he is a Stark. Because he holds Winterfell."
"Which of you dares object?"
Galon strode into the hall, the great bearskin cloak draped over his shoulders, his chest squared and his presence commanding, like a great beast surveying its prey.
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