Galladon entered his guest chamber under the maid's guidance.
As close vassals of House Baratheon, the Tarth family had been assigned one of the finest rooms. The furnishings were elegant, the lighting warm. Through the window, the endless waves crashed against the distant cliffs.
After admiring the view briefly, Galladon bathed, washed his hair, and changed into fresh clothes.
He chose a white linen shirt with a fitted black vest, dark gray tailored trousers, a belt inlaid with turquoise, and soft black leather boots. Simple—but refined.
At just over 1.6 meters tall, with calm eyes and striking features, he no longer looked like an ordinary ten-year-old. There was already something composed and noble in his bearing.
After a moment's thought, he decided not to bring the Just Maid.
If he did, someone would inevitably ask him to display it.
He disliked unnecessary attention.
There was a knock at the door.
"Galladon, are you ready? I'll escort you to the banquet."
It was Lord Selwyn.
"Yes, Father."
Selwyn looked his son over with satisfaction.
Galladon was growing more handsome by the day.
"Let's go."
The Banquet Hall
They arrived at the rooftop hall of Storm's End.
Hundreds of candles burned brightly. A long central table overflowed with roasted meats, seafood, cakes, and fine wine. Smaller round tables lined the sides.
More than twenty nobles had gathered, chatting in groups.
This was not Renly's official nameday feast—that would be tomorrow—but an early gathering for those who had arrived ahead of time.
When Lord Selwyn entered with Galladon, many eyes turned toward them.
One gaze in particular lingered.
A tall middle-aged man with golden hair streaked faintly with silver, dark green eyes, and a gentle expression studied Galladon carefully.
Beside him stood an eleven-year-old girl with golden hair, snow-white skin, and violet eyes. In her arms was a little blonde girl of three or four.
"Father, he's from House Tarth…" a handsome young man of about fifteen murmured quietly to the golden-haired lord.
The man nodded faintly.
Robert approached with a grin.
"Galladon! You're here."
After greetings were exchanged, Lord Selwyn introduced his son to the gathered nobles. Compliments followed quickly.
Galladon's fame had already spread across the Stormlands—the boy who found a holy sword rivaling Dawn of House Dayne.
Several nobles even hinted at introducing their daughters.
Selwyn smiled politely—but gave no commitments.
Eventually, he led Galladon toward the golden-haired lord.
"Galladon, this is Lord Leyton Hightower of Oldtown."
Galladon inclined his head respectfully.
"Lord Leyton. I have long heard of the glory of House Hightower. It is an honor."
Leyton smiled, clearly pleased.
"This is my son Baelor, my eldest daughter Helena, and my youngest daughter Lynesse."
The tall young man and the golden-haired girl greeted him warmly.
The little blonde child in Helena's arms waved shyly.
Galladon studied them.
House Hightower—an ancient and immensely powerful family, lords of Oldtown, seat of the Citadel and the Faith.
Helena, the eldest daughter.
Curiously, she was scarcely mentioned in the original history.
And the child—
Lynesse Hightower.
The future beauty who would ensnare Jorah Mormont and drive him into exile.
Even at three years old, she was remarkably delicate, with bright emerald eyes.
Noticing Galladon's gaze, the little girl giggled and reached toward him.
Galladon glanced at Helena for permission.
She blushed slightly—but nodded.
He lifted Lynesse with practiced ease, cradling her comfortably.
"Brother!" the child laughed.
Laughter rippled through the group.
"Careful," Baelor joked. "You'll steal my sister away."
Helena's cheeks reddened further.
While Galladon distracted Lynesse playfully, Lord Selwyn and Lord Leyton exchanged several quiet glances.
A silent understanding passed between them.
They raised their cups and drank.
Later, at the long table, Selwyn spoke casually.
"What do you think of Lord Leyton and his children?"
"They seem excellent," Galladon replied calmly. "A family of deep foundation and proper upbringing."
"And?"
Galladon thought a moment.
"They're all very good-looking."
Selwyn chuckled.
"So you find Helena beautiful?"
Galladon nodded honestly.
She was undeniably beautiful—golden curls, pale skin, and especially those violet eyes. Gentle in temperament. Reserved.
Promising.
"Would you like to marry her one day?"
Galladon froze briefly.
Ah.
So that was why he had been told to dress properly.
This was not merely a banquet.
It was a viewing.
He recalled Baelor's earlier joke.
It had not been about Lynesse.
It had been about Helena.
The arrangement had already been discussed.
After a thoughtful pause, Galladon asked quietly:
"Have you spoken with Lord Leyton?"
Selwyn nodded.
"If you agree, it can be settled."
Galladon considered it carefully.
House Hightower commanded Oldtown, the Citadel, and had immense influence. Their daughters married into powerful houses—the Tyrells among them.
Helena herself had made a good impression—graceful, composed, kind-eyed.
And their temperaments seemed aligned.
Finally, he nodded.
"Yes."
Selwyn's eyes brightened.
"You agree?"
"I do."
This was not an unfavorable match.
On the contrary—it was advantageous.
Selwyn smiled broadly.
"Then I shall speak with Lord Leyton."
He forked a piece of shrimp, satisfaction evident.
Thus, before the official feast had even begun—
Galladon Tarth had secured himself a future wife.
(End of Chapter 18)
A/N:
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