Galon stood at the center of the arena, his sword still stained with fresh blood.
His sharp red eyes swept across the hall. The king's bannermen and knights shrank back, unable to meet his gaze.
Those who knew him from Winterfell stared in disbelief — unsure whether their eyes deceived them.
Like a tiger claiming its throne, Galon declared:
"..Seems the gods favor me after all."
His voice snapped everyone from their stunned silence.
Robert surged to his feet, excitement bright in his eyes — there was even a glint of eagerness, as if he wished to test the boy himself.
Laughing heartily, the king strode from the high dais to Galon's side. "HA! HA! HA! Well done, Galon Glover! I did not expect such skill from one so young!"
His gaze flicked to the knight lying in a pool of his own blood.
"Ser Meryn served me for years… yet he fell to you with barely any struggle. Still, there are worse deaths than a trial by combat!"
With a wave of his hand, Robert motioned for attendants to remove Meryn Trant's corpse.
Then he drew a deep breath, raising his voice for all to hear:
"As Robert of House Baratheon, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm — I declare…"
"Galon Glover of Deepwood Motte has triumphed in trial by combat! He has earned marriage to Sansa Stark, daughter of the Warden of the North!"
"Their union shall be witnessed by me, and by the gods!"
The hall roared~
Galon! Galon! Galon!
The cheers shook the rafters of Winterfell's great hall.
Galon couldn't contain his triumph as he glanced toward Sansa.
She covered her mouth, eyes shining with admiration — overwhelmed that Galon had truly kept his oath… and through trial by combat, no less.
More legendary than the songs of princes and princesses.
Ned smiled and called for attendants to return the feast. The night was not yet over.
When the feast resumed, King Robert raised his cup high:
"A toast — to Galon!"
"To Galon!"
Every voice joined the cry. Cups clashed. Wine flowed.
Galon raised his own cup, drinking it in one pull. When it was refilled, he stood taller, energized by victory.
"To the King! To Lord Stark!"
Another wave of cheers followed.
The hall swelled with celebration. Everyone clamored to drink with Galon — no one spared a thought for the dead knight cooling on the floor.
That was the nature of trial by combat:
Victory earned glory.
Defeat earned oblivion.
Only Joffrey watched with a twisted scowl, hatred burning as Galon stole every sliver of attention.
"Useless fool," he hissed under his breath. "Meryn, you worthless dog! You embarrassed me!"
Spoiled his entire life, he had never felt such humiliation.
He turned toward the dais seeking comfort — only to find Cersei's gaze fixed on Galon as well… and filled with admiration.
Nearby, Catelyn wore a strained smile, unable to hide her unease.
She had never imagined Galon would shatter fate so effortlessly. Now that the gods had spoken, even she could not challenge the marriage.
Joffrey stomped away in fury, shoving aside those in his path.
But Galon barely noticed his departure — he was too busy being praised, toasted, and pulled into conversation by half the hall.
After Galon drained his seventh or eighth cup, Ned intervened, rescuing him from drunken collapse.
Robert, flushed red with drink and free of all royal restraint, slung an arm around Galon's shoulder.
"Ned will soon travel south with me to King's Landing. There will be a grand tourney in his honor! With your strength, boy — you'll crush every knight in the South!"
"Come with us, Galon! What say you?"
Galon smiled politely.
"It would be my honor, Your Grace. But I have just taken up the lordship of Deepwood Motte. I must attend to my lands first. I ask only a few months."
He knew well — soon the king would fall to a boar, and Ned to the traps of King's Landing. War loomed.
He would not abandon the North now.
Robert nodded, accepting the reasoning. "There will be plenty of tourneys yet to come. And with your skill—"
He laughed, clapping Galon's back.
"You are worthy of the Kingsguard!"
"But alas…"
Before he could finish, Jaime approached with a crooked grin, raising his cup.
"Your Grace, our champion has just won himself a bride. Surely you wouldn't have him take the white cloak now? I suspect the Lady Sansa would object."
Ned shot Jaime a cold glare. Robert frowned — his mood soured.
Jaime shrugged, unbothered. "May I borrow the young lord for a moment? I wish to speak with him alone."
"What are you plotting?" Ned snapped.
"Oh, come now. I wouldn't harm the Hand's new son-in-law, especially one so talented." Jaime's tone was playful, but his eyes remained unreadable.
"Just a conversation..."
Galon smiled. "A pleasure."
Robert released him, and Galon followed Jaime to a quieter corner.
Once alone, Jaime spoke in a low voice, "After tonight, your name will be known throughout the Seven Kingdoms. Songs will spread your fame."
His gaze hardened.
"But listen well — the Kingsguard is not made solely of drunks and weaklings like Meryn Trant.
If you ever dare disgrace the white cloak… I will not forgive you."
Galon blinked, surprised by the warning.
Then he smiled lightly. "The Kingsguard protects the king. I respect that order deeply. I would never tarnish its honor."
Jaime studied him for a long moment, then nodded.
"See that you don't."
He turned to leave — but Galon stopped him. "This afternoon, Ser Jaime asked me a question. Allow me to ask one in return."
Jaime paused. "Oh? And what is that?"
"I heard you earned the white cloak at fifteen." Galon's smile sharpened. "Tell me... does your sword still know how to fight?"
Jaime's smirk froze.
His eyes chilled.
"What are you implying?"
"Nothing at all," Galon replied softly. "Only that playing nursemaid to fools… must be dull."
"Your sword is howling for battle."
Jaime's hand reached instinctively for his hilt — only to grasp empty air. His sword remained in his chambers due to the feast.
"If you ever want to test your blade against mine, Ser Jaime… I would be delighted."
No further taunt needed.
Galon walked past him, leaving Jaime seething. But Galon did not go far — Robb and the others rushed him immediately.
"What did the Kingslayer want?" Robb asked eagerly.
"Just a friendly request for sword practice," Galon replied with a laugh.
Their excitement burst like wildfire.
"If you defeat the Kingslayer — you'll be the finest swordsman in the Seven Kingdoms!" Arya's eyes sparkled with pure awe.
She danced around him, begging for sword lessons.
Sansa tried to speak with Galon too, but Arya's enthusiasm bowled her over.
Finally, Sansa grabbed Arya by the arm and dragged her away — the sisters bickering and shoving all the while, leaving Robb shaking his head in amusement.
Galon laughed and pulled Robb along.
They rejoined Jon as they continued through the hall.
Along the way, he exchanged a silent glance with Roger — he knew their earlier plan had been accomplished.
And so Galon surrendered himself fully to the feast, drinking deep into the night.
The celebration carried on until the final cup was drained, and the great hall fell quiet once more.
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