At the moment Bran's dream ended, Galon's consciousness quietly returned to the heart tree.
The Three-Eyed Raven that had been perched there was already gone.
Under the night sky, Winterfell grew lively once more as news of Bran's awakening spread.
But Galon had no time to care about any of that.
His awareness broke free from the godswood of Winterfell and returned to the heart tree of Deepwood Motte.
When he recalled the prophecy the Three-Eyed Raven had delivered to Bran within the dream, Galon could not help but feel both amused and exasperated.
"Supporting me? The hope of this world?"
It felt as absurd as being an orphan in a past life, only to suddenly have a butler appear one day and declare him the sole heir to a trillion-coin empire.
Galon had never imagined himself becoming the hope of the world.
From the moment he crossed into this life, his goal had always been clear.
A man born between heaven and earth should never live forever beneath another's shadow.
Galon wanted to lead the cavalry of the North, seize the Iron Throne that symbolized ultimate power, and carve out a vast dominion of his own.
Having been given a second life, if he still amounted to nothing, how would that make him any different from rotting wood and withered grass?
That was how he thought, and that was how he acted.
Yet reality always seemed to enjoy throwing unexpected twists his way.
'I originally planned to keep my distance from the struggle between the Lord of Light and the Cold/Death God for now. But now even the old gods have stepped in.'
'They have even dragged me into it. Even if I wanted to withdraw, they probably would not allow it.'
'Damn it. What exactly do these gods want?'
Galon lifted his gaze toward the north.
In his original plan, before the Others launched their full-scale march south, he would first become king.
Then he would unite the resources of the Seven Kingdoms, seize Euron's dragon horn, and use it to control Daenerys's three dragons.
Finally, together with Jon Snow, he would lead an army to face the Others in decisive battle beyond the Wall.
With his knowledge of future events, as long as the Lord of Light and the Cold God did not intervene personally, Galon could not even imagine how he might lose.
Yet now, the old gods, who had always remained little more than background figures in the original story, had suddenly emerged.
Ancient pacts between House Glover and the old gods, talk of saving the world, this vague, omnipresent divinity seemed to have fixed all its attention on Galon.
Galon had no interest in becoming the world's savior.
He was a simple man with simple desires. He only wanted to become the one and only king of this world.
Damn it.
He cursed under his breath, a sharp sense of urgency rising within him.
But he quickly forced himself to calm down. He knew that the more critical the moment, the more important it was to remain clear-headed.
'For now, I have no way to interfere with the old gods' prophecy.'
'Once I defeat the Iron Islands and rally the armies of the North, I will go beyond the Wall to the Haunted Forest and find Brynden Rivers.'
'At that time, I will pry the truth of this prophecy from his mouth, no matter what it takes.'
A firm decision flashed through Galon's mind, and Jon Snow's image surfaced in his thoughts.
'Jon is an extremely important piece on the board. My relationship with him needs to deepen even further.'
'Just like Robert and Ned once did.'
Although the original story never stated outright that Jon Snow was the legendary prince Azor Ahai, countless hints pointed in that direction.
The television version went even further.
Jon died and was resurrected, fulfilled his vows to the Night's Watch, and ultimately led the armies that slew the Night King.
To Galon, Jon's importance far surpassed that of anyone else.
It concerned whether the army of the Others led by the Night King could be completely destroyed in the future.
And now, although Jon was gradually integrating into life at Deepwood Motte, Galon knew very well that if anything happened at Winterfell, Jon would leave without hesitation to fight for it.
Even if that meant standing against Galon himself.
'With the relationship we have now, if forced to choose between Winterfell and Deepwood Motte, he would choose Winterfell without a doubt.'
'Should I speak with him openly, lay bare my ambitions, and earn his trust to deepen our bond?'
Galon considered it for only a few heartbeats before rejecting the idea.
'No. Not yet.'
'I need him to realize first that I am the only one who can save this realm.'
'Only then will I reveal my true intentions, so that he will willingly stand by my side.'
Galon turned his thoughts back toward Winterfell and continued to think calmly.
'Jon values family above all else, and the Starks are his greatest weakness.'
'It seems Bran must be kept alive to serve his greatest purpose.'
Originally, Galon had planned that once Bran became a greenseer and uncovered the true details of the Lord of Light and the Cold God, he would arrange for Bran to die in an accident.
But now, whether to draw Jon closer or to fulfill the Three-Eyed Raven's talk of aiding him, Galon decided to let Bran live for the time being.
However—
'You can forget about lying back and becoming some crippled king.'
Galon's eyes darkened as he silently determined the course of Bran's life.
After considering the matter further and finding no immediate flaws in his plan, Galon allowed his consciousness to grow weary and returned to his body to sleep.
Elsewhere, as Galon made his preparations, the atmosphere in Bran's bedchamber at Winterfell was tense.
The joy from moments earlier had vanished without a trace. Robb, Sansa, and Maester Luwin watched Bran carefully.
Bran lay lifeless on the bed, despair filling his eyes.
He could no longer escape the cruel reality that he was now crippled.
'You must learn to fly.'
In a daze, Bran remembered the words spoken by the Three-Eyed Raven in his dream.
'Can I still fly?'
Clinging to a final shred of hope, he tried earnestly to recall the scenes from the dream.
But the harder he tried to remember, the less remained. His head began to throb painfully.
Ah—
He cried out despite himself.
Robb, Sansa, and Maester Luwin immediately panicked.
"Bran, are you feeling unwell anywhere?" Sansa asked, quickly sitting by his side.
She touched his forehead, her brow furrowed as she tried to ease his pain.
Robb pressed anxiously, "Did you remember who tried to kill you?"
Bran shook his head weakly. "I can't remember anything. Whenever I try to think, my head hurts."
Hearing this, Maester Luwin gently pulled Sansa aside and examined Bran carefully.
"Do not worry. You have only just awakened. After some rest, you will feel better.
Bran, for now, try not to think too much."
Maester Luwin's gentle reassurance gave Bran the false impression that he might one day stand again.
Excited, Bran asked, "Will I be able to stand up and run freely again?"
Maester Luwin hesitated, but in the end, he shook his head.
The light in Bran's eyes dimmed instantly. Despair flooded his expression as he lashed out, "Go away. All of you, go away. I don't want to see you!"
Seeing his brother like this, pain flashed through Robb's eyes, and his hatred for Joffrey and Theon deepened.
Suppressing his anger, he instructed the black-haired maid to take good care of Bran and ordered the guards outside to protect him carefully.
Only after making sure everything was in order did Robb leave with Sansa and Maester Luwin.
As they walked, Robb asked quietly, "Maester, when will Bran's headaches ease? I want to ask him who was behind the attempt on his life."
Maester Luwin shook his head. "It's hard to say. It could be two or three days, or it could take several weeks."
"Robb, for now, let him rest."
Robb sighed and could only agree.
Back in the chamber, once everyone had left, Bran's eyes filled with silent tears.
He hated himself more than anything for climbing that tower.
At that moment, the direwolf that had been lying beneath the bed climbed up beside him and gently licked the tears from his face.
A sense of warmth spread through Bran's heart.
He wiped his tears, turned to the direwolf, and stroked its fur as he murmured, "I haven't even given you a name yet…"
"From today on, you'll be called Summer."
Once more, images from the dream surfaced in Bran's mind. The lands beyond the Wall, and the Three-Eyed Raven.
'I have to learn to fly?'
'Do I need to find it in order to learn how?'
Suddenly, Bran felt as though he understood something.
'I'll ask the maester tomorrow. He should know about the Three-Eyed Raven.'
His thoughts grew hazy, and Bran fell asleep once more. In his dream, he became Summer, running freely through the room.
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