Among the nobles of Westeros, it was customary to foster children with other great houses.
Sometimes it is to strengthen alliances.
Sometimes for education.
Sometimes—as in Theon Greyjoy's case—it is little more than a hostage arrangement.
But most often, fostering represents deep trust.
For example, Lord Steffon Baratheon sent his eldest son Robert to be fostered by Jon Arryn at the Eyrie.
Why?
Because he trusted Jon Arryn's character.
Because he respected his ability.
Because he believed Robert would grow better under Jon's guidance.
Such a relationship could be stronger than marriage.
Robert would grow to love Jon Arryn almost as much as his own father.
And if either house ever faced danger, the other would never stand idle.
The later rebellion would prove exactly that—the Falcon, the Wolf, and the Stag standing together.
Now, Galladon stood beside his father at Sapphire Harbor, watching a ship bearing the falcon banner approach.
Robert Baratheon was returning from the Eyrie to Storm's End.
The reason?
Lord Steffon Baratheon had fathered another son.
Renly.
Robert was fifteen now.
Seven years had passed since he left home.
Galladon couldn't help but think—
If he had been older, perhaps he too could have been fostered at the Eyrie. He might have grown alongside Robert and Ned Stark.
The thought was amusing.
But the age gap was too wide.
Robert was likely more interested in wine, fighting, and chasing girls than befriending a ten-year-old.
Two years had passed and Galladon was now ten years old.
Nearly five feet tall already, slim but strong, with sharper features and deeper eyes.
The Just Maid rested across his back.
He summoned his panel quietly:
[Galladon Tarth]
Strength: 8.76
Agility: 8.90
Spirit: 15.3
Magic: 0
Skills:
Swordsmanship (21%)
Archery (33%)
Riding (19%)
Common Tongue (41%)
Swimming (40%)
High Valyrian (19%)
Legendary Bloodlines:
Duskstar (5%)
Targaryen (1%)
Storm King (1%)
Judgment Points: 0
After two years of relentless training and nearly a hundred executions, his growth was astonishing.
His strength and agility were already close to adult levels.
In real combat, he could likely match a seasoned veteran.
And this was only the beginning.
Arrival
The ship anchored.
Two figures stood at the bow.
One tall and broad-shouldered, black-haired, with bright blue eyes and an arrogant, heroic smile.
Robert Baratheon.
Beside him stood a leaner youth with brown hair, serious eyes, and a reserved demeanor.
Eddard Stark.
Even at fourteen, Ned's solemn expression already marked him.
Robert leapt from the deck onto the dock with explosive strength.
Selwyn's eyes showed approval.
Robert laughed loudly.
"Lord Selwyn! Long time no see!"
"And you've grown strong indeed," Selwyn replied warmly.
Robert gestured toward his companion.
"This is my foster brother, Eddard Stark, second son of Lord Rickard Stark."
Ned bowed politely.
"Greetings, my lord."
Galladon stepped forward.
"Robert. Ned. I am Galladon Tarth."
Robert grinned and clapped him on the shoulder.
"I've heard your name even in the Eyrie. The boy who found a holy sword!"
His eyes were already fixed on the hilt over Galladon's shoulder.
"Is that it? Just Maid? Draw it and let me see!"
Impatient as ever.
Galladon smiled slightly.
"After we return to the castle. If I draw my sword here, Father will scold me for poor hospitality."
Robert laughed.
"Fine! But you'd better show me."
At Evenfall Hall
They rode back to the castle.
After washing and changing clothes, Robert came downstairs with the same eager expression.
"Galladon," he said, stepping close again, "now will you show me your sword?"
Even Ned's calm eyes carried curiosity.
The legendary blade of Tarth…
How would it compare to House Stark's ancestral greatsword, Ice?
Galladon rested his hand lightly on the hilt.
And smiled.
(End of Chapter 12)
A/N:
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