"Mother?"
Robb's voice finally cut through the strange silence in the room.
Galon straightened and met Lady Catelyn's gaze head-on.
It took only a heartbeat for him to understand: her eyes held no warmth, no politeness — only cold distance. And beneath that, a flicker of open dislike.
As if he had already offended her in some unforgivable way.
'Is it because of Sansa?'
He kept his face calm, but his thoughts sharpened.
'Did Ned promise her this match against her will?'
'In the story I remember, she wanted Sansa married to a southern lord — somewhere warm, safe, far from Northern hardship.'
'Even without the king coming north, she would have pushed Sansa toward the South.'
'So if Ned now promises Sansa to me, she should at least be upset with him — not me. But this look… this is more than simple disapproval."
'Something else happened.'
An uneasy feeling crept into his chest.
Until now, everything in Winterfell had unfolded almost exactly as he'd expected. Ned's promise. Sansa's reaction. Robb's friendship.
All according to plan.
Catelyn's hostility was the first crack.
'Calm down. Do not overreact. Until the betrothal is sealed, I cannot afford a single misstep.'
'I need to find out who or what turned her against me.'
He let his eyes drift briefly toward Robb.
'If I push him a little, he might tell me what she thinks.'
Catelyn noticed that look.
'So. Not just my daughter, now my son as well? Seats and titles — that's all he sees.'
Her anger cooled into a hard, brittle edge.
If not for Robb and Maester Luwin standing there, she might already have ordered Galon out of the room.
"Robb," she said finally, ignoring Galon entirely, "what are you doing here?"
Robb hesitated, caught between blood and friendship.
"Father asked me to show Galon around Winterfell," he said carefully. "I brought him to see his chamber and check if anything is missing."
"If you don't need me, Mother, I should finish what he asked of me."
Catelyn deliberately turned away from Galon, addressing only Luwin. "Maester Luwin, arrange Tyrion Lannister's room as we discussed."
"We will look over the kitchens next."
Then she added, almost as an afterthought, "Robb, come with me. Tom should trim your beard before the king arrives."
"Mother…" Robb glanced at Galon, torn. "I still have Father's task to complete. Perhaps I can join you later. Jon and Theon can help—"
At the name Jon, Catelyn's reaction was instant.
"No."
Her refusal was sharp and absolute.
"Any servant can walk a guest through the castle. I called you here to teach you how to behave before a king."
"House Stark is Warden of the North. Our manners reflect our honor."
She let her eyes flick briefly, pointedly, toward Galon.
"We cannot afford to look as ill-bred as certain others — greedy for favor and blind to their place."
Galon's gaze hardened.
He understood perfectly. She wasn't just dismissing him — she was accusing him of grasping for power he didn't deserve.
And while it was true he sought Winterfell's strength, she was stripping away the courtesy most highborns hid behind.
A line was being drawn.
He almost answered her there and then.
Words sharpened in his mind — cold, cutting, dangerous.
But Maester Luwin stepped in first, coughing lightly.
"Lady Catelyn, we should be going."
He turned to Robb. "Go with your lady mother. I will see that Jon and Theon are informed of any tasks that concern them."
Robb opened his mouth, still wanting to object — Galon spoke before he could.
"Go, Robb."
His tone was calm again.
"Lady Stark is right — you should be with her before the king arrives. I can rest here a while. When you are finished, come find me."
He understood Catelyn now.
She did not want Sansa tied to him. She did not want Robb bound to him either. Trying to win her over would be like asking winter to thaw out of season.
Better to retreat this once — and make it clear he was not the one causing friction.
Robb studied him for a moment, then nodded slowly. "I'll come back soon," he promised.
Galon stepped aside, clearing the doorway.
Catelyn swept past him as if he were made of stone, not flesh — not a word, not a glance.
Luwin followed, pausing only to offer Galon a weary, apologetic look.
Robb was last. He clapped a hand to Galon's shoulder in passing — a quiet gesture that said: "I know this isn't fair."
But then he, too, was gone.
Galon remained alone in the doorway, back straight, hands loose at his sides.
He watched Catelyn's figure disappear down the corridor. A brief flash of steel lit his eyes — gone almost as quickly as it came.
"She has no intention of accepting me. She will do everything she can to break this betrothal. I can't let that happen."
Ned had said the king would arrive in three days.
Three days for Catelyn to scheme. Three days for others to whisper.
"Do I need a distraction?" he wondered.
"Something to pull her attention away from me?"
For a moment, an image surfaced in his mind — a boy falling from a tower, legs shattered.
Bran.
"No."
He shut the thought down immediately.
"Not that. Not a child. I may not be a good man — but there are lines I will not cross."
He was still thinking when a faint sound cut through his thoughts.
A rough caw from somewhere above.
On the outer wall, a lone raven had perched — head turning slowly, black eyes watching the courtyard below.
It shifted, feathers rustling, then launched itself into the air.
Moments later, it landed on a wooden beam not far from where Galon stood.
"Croak… croak…"
The calls pulled him from his thoughts.
He looked up — and met the raven's gaze. In that instant, something cold slid into him.
A sharp, alien awareness flooded along his spine, burrowing deeper than thought.
The world seemed to tilt.
And then — the change began.
__________
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