The next morning, at first light, Galon rose from his bed right on time.
He washed and straightened himself, dressed, buckled his sword at his waist, and stepped out of his room.
Today he would serve as guide for Robert, Ned, and the hunting party into the Wolfswood.
Just as he was about to head toward the stables, a bleary eyed Tyrion staggered out of his own chamber, looking very much the victim of last night's wine.
The two exchanged a knowing smile and then a polite nod.
Galon slowed his steps. "Lord Tyrion, up so early. Are you joining the hunt as well?"
Tyrion yawned.
"Hunting is not one of my pleasures. I arranged to meet Maester Luwin. I plan to borrow a few books today."
Galon's eyes flickered with interest. "I am on my way to the stables, and the maester's tower lies along the way. Shall we walk together?"
Tyrion agreed without thinking much of it.
They walked side by side, chatting as they went.
"Last night's trial was quite something," Tyrion said. "A sworn brother of the Kingsguard, cut down just like that."
"I would wager that if you go to King's Landing, the noble ladies will be knocking on your door until midnight. The girls in the city's brothels might not even ask you to pay."
His short legs moved quickly, his tone light and teasing.
For reasons he could not quite explain, Tyrion felt a strange warmth toward Galon. The boy's courtesy did not feel mocking or forced, but like genuine respect.
In Tyrion's life, only Jaime had ever made him feel that way.
Galon raised an eyebrow. "In that case, it is fortunate I have not yet gone to King's Landing. Otherwise every brothel owner in the city would hate me."
Tyrion laughed.
"Do not worry. The man who owns the most brothels in King's Landing is our Master of Coin, Lord Petyr Baelish.
He can find a hundred ways to squeeze golden dragons out of you."
The name Littlefinger flashed through Galon's mind. His gaze shifted slightly.
As they turned into a long corridor, he replied with a small smile. "Lord Tyrion speaks with feeling. It sounds as though Lord Baelish has taken quite a number of your dragons already."
"Well, his girls are very talented." Tyrion's cheeks flushed, as if he were reliving certain very specific memories.
"And the North has its charms as well. I saw that for myself last night."
Galon fell silent.
"Only jesting," Tyrion added, shrugging. "Today I will behave. I want a few books. The tales of the North interest me. White Walkers, giants and the rest of your monsters."
"The North has plenty of those, at least in stories," Galon said. "Maester Luwin will be more than happy to bury you in old scrolls."
Talking, they walked for several more minutes until the maester's tower came into view.
Galon stopped.
"There it is. Take the stone steps up and you will find him. We can speak again tonight."
Tyrion nodded. "Enjoy your hunt then. Tonight I expect to see the spoils of your great northern skill."
Galon agreed with a smile and watched him go.
When Tyrion disappeared up the tower steps, Galon turned down the other side of the corridor and headed toward the stables.
Seven or eight minutes later he arrived.
The stable hands were already busy. Fed and brushed horses were being led out, some driven toward the training yard.
The king would not come to the stables himself. He would mount in the yard, then ride out with the party through the Hunter's Gate and into the Wolfswood.
Galon glanced around and quickly spotted his men in one corner.
"Roger."
He strode toward them. Roger and the other four guards hurried to meet him.
"Lord Galon."
He nodded. "Mount up. We will wait for the king and Lord Stark at the Hunter's Gate."
He took the reins of his horse from a nearby stable hand and swung into the saddle.
Roger and the others mounted as well and followed Galon out. In a short while they rode through the gate and halted near the Hunter's Gate.
Galon pulled his horse to a stop and looked out toward the ancient trees of the Wolfswood, silently counting the time in his head.
Hoofbeats rose in the distance. Moments later Robert, Ned, and the rest of the royal party appeared at the gate.
Robert pulled his horse alongside Galon's, grinning.
"Here is our champion. I hope the Wolfswood treats me well today. This is Glover land, is it not? Do not send me back empty handed."
"I will not disappoint Your Grace," Galon replied.
"Good. I want to see whether your skill with bow and horse can match your sword."
Robert laughed out loud.
"Forward."
He spurred his horse and thundered toward the trees.
Joffrey, along with knights and bannermen bearing the stag of Baratheon, lashed their horses and followed close behind.
"Come," Ned called. "We ride."
The men of Winterfell surged after the king.
Behind them trundled wagons full of food and casks of wine, pulled by servants and cooks, all hurrying toward the chosen campsite.
Galon flicked his reins and rode beside Robb.
He looked over the long line of riders and noted two absences. Jaime was nowhere to be seen. Neither was Theon.
'So Jaime still chooses to stay behind and keep Cersei company. Just as before.'
'As for Theon…'
'It seems he has begun to move exactly as I planned.'
Galon glanced back at Winterfell. Expectation stirred in his chest.
'The real show is about to begin.'
He smiled and urged his horse faster.
Robb saw him speed up and assumed Galon was eager to impress the king again. His own competitive spirit flared.
"Galon, shall we make a wager today?" he called over the wind. "We see who brings down the most game."
Galon laughed.
"Very well. What does the winner gain?"
"If you win, I will tell you a secret about Sansa," Robb said at once.
"And if you win?" Galon asked.
Robb thought for a moment. "If I win, you owe me a favor. Any request I make, within reason, you must agree."
"Done," Galon answered without hesitation.
"It is decided then. Robb, you are doomed to lose."
They both burst into laughter as they rode.
...
At the very moment the hunting party galloped out of Winterfell, Bran was climbing the stone walls with all his strength.
By the time he reached the top of the outer wall, the riders were already gone from sight.
His eyes wandered farther, to the jagged silhouette of the old broken tower.
He hesitated, then began climbing again.
Inside the broken tower, Theon slipped in through the ground floor, glancing around nervously.
Seeing no one, he hurried up the stairs.
Not long after, Jaime and Cersei arrived as well.
They gave the surrounding ruins only a brief look. Finding no prying eyes, they pressed close, hands already roaming, heedless of the risk.
Step by step they climbed together, their bodies pressed tight.
Cersei's muffled moans began to echo faintly through the empty stones of the broken tower.
And so the curtain began to rise on the next act.
__________
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