Winter's (GOT) Nothing on Me #92

Gale's internal sigh reverberated, understanding that words at this point wouldn't sway this colossal man's resolve. His gaze remained unflinchingly fixed on Greatjon, wearing an expression devoid of emotion. 

"I'm here to end your son's life for a treason he's yet to commit," Gale announced in a blunt, matter-of-fact tone, preparing himself to incapacitate the towering figure and make a swift getaway.

Greatjon appeared momentarily stunned, scrutinizing Gale's face. Yet, to Gale's astonishment, the imposing man erupted into boisterous laughter. "You've got a spine of iron to jest about killing my son to my face, lad! Ha!"

 Greatjon's laughter echoed through the inn as he jovially patted Gale's shoulder. "You must be one of Jon's mates! Come now, join me for a drink!" He threw an arm around Gale's neck, guiding him forcefully toward the closest table.

Baffled by this abrupt turn of events, Gale blinked slowly, unable to muster any response other than allowing the gargantuan northerner to lead him along, bewildered by the unexpected twist in the encounter.

Greatjon ensured Gale was comfortably seated before taking his own place opposite him at the table. He turned towards the innkeeper, issuing a direct command. 

"Fetch us two of your finest drinks, and keep them coming!" His voice was authoritative yet genial, resonating through the bustling inn. Once done, he redirected his focus to Gale. "Now, lad, tell me your name. How do you know my son?" He fixed Gale with a scrutinizing stare, intent on unraveling the mystery.

Gale's eyes twitched involuntarily as he realized he was inadvertently caught in the rhythm of this towering northerner. "The name's Erik... I don't know your son. As I said, I'm here to kill him," he reiterated, lightly thumping the table with a clenched fist. 

Greatjon's laughter erupted once more at Gale's comment, echoing through the inn.

"By the gods, Erik, you're a real jester!" Greatjon's grin widened, though it faltered slightly when he noticed the calloused hands and scars on Gale's features. "Those are the hands of a fighter... and that scar..." Greatjon's focus shifted to Gale's face, his eyes narrowing as he observed the scar over Gale's eye. 

A realization seemed to dawn on him as he scanned Gale's attire—a realization that stoked a dangerous glint in his eyes.

"You wouldn't happen to be a deserter from the Night's Watch, would you?" Greatjon's question cut through the jovial atmosphere, his voice taking on a more serious tone, revealing a hint of menace in his narrowed gaze.

Gale felt a wave of relief wash over him as the conversation shifted to a more serious tone. Dealing with the boisterous northerner was proving to be quite the challenge. "Aye, I did spend some time around the Night's Watch, but I'm no sworn man or deserter," he clarified with a casual shrug. "Can't rightly desert the Watch if I've never taken the oath, can I?" He raised an eyebrow in emphasis.

Greatjon scrutinized Gale's countenance for a moment before a grin crept back onto his features. "Call me foolish, but I'll take you at your word," he chuckled, gesturing for the innkeeper to bring over two bottles of spirits.

 "I know a warrior when I see one, and you don't strike me as someone who'd run from a fight," he remarked proudly, thumping his chest.

Gale's smile held a tinge of bitterness. "Maybe not a fight... but there are plenty of things I'd like to run from if only I could," he confessed, shaking his head ruefully.

Greatjon's jovial expression softened into a contemplative gaze. "Aye, lad, we all have our demons to outrun," he said with a touch of empathy, pouring a drink for both himself and Gale."Not me, though. I'd slaughter any demon that dares come after me!" He added with a loud laugh, to which Gale could only chuckle and shake his head.

As they sipped from their drinks, Greatjon's demeanor shifted slightly. "You know, you kind of remind me of Littlejon. He has his demons, but he's a fine lad," he began a hint of pride in his voice. 

"He's got the Umber fire in him, strong and determined." Greatjon's eyes glinted with affectionate reminiscence. "Littlejon might seem brash and disagreeable on the surface, but he's got a good heart, always standing by what he believes in."

Gale's curiosity was piqued at the change in Greatjon's tone. "Seems like you're close to your son," he observed, trying to glean more information about Littlejon, maybe even his current whereabouts. 

"Aye, we are," Greatjon affirmed with a genuine smile. "Littlejon and I, we might not always see eye to eye on everything, but he's got honor in him, and he's fiercely loyal to his kin and his people."

Listening intently, Gale barely held back a frown, wondering about the future and considering the differences between the show and reality. 

Littljon didn't seem to get along with his father in the show. He even went as far as to say along the lines of 'If my father didn't do me the favor of dying, I would have killed him myself.'

Perhaps, Littlejon might not turn against his father's beliefs or their allies, contrary to what he knew from watching the show in his past life. It wouldn't be the first divergence from his knowledge that the young man noted. 

"That's good to hear," Gale remarked thoughtfully, contemplating the possibility that Littlejon Umber might not follow the trajectory he had anticipated. He silently pondered the implications of this newfound insight into the Umbers' familial relationship.

Gale kept a careful eye on Greatjon as the night wore on. Sipping his drink thoughtfully, he steered the conversation toward Littlejon, asking about his upbringing, adventures, and any incidents that might hint at his future inclinations. 

Greatjon, fueled by the spirits, happily recounted tales of Littlejon's youth, his victories in combat, and his unwavering loyalty to his people.

As the night progressed, Greatjon's jovial demeanor waned, and the effect of the alcohol became apparent. His speech slurred, and his eyelids drooped. Gale noted the change and continued probing, hoping for any tidbits that might give him insight into Littlejon's character.

However, before Gale could glean any more information, the night's indulgences caught up with Greatjon. His head slowly sank onto the table, and soon, the sound of snoring filled the room.

Gale sat back, assessing the situation. He had gathered some details about Littlejon, but nothing substantial enough to make a conclusive judgment. Nonetheless, the glimpses he got hinted at a different future than he had anticipated, one where Littlejon might not necessarily veer toward treachery or betrayal.

...

As Greatjon rubbed the sleep from his eyes, the dim morning light seeped into the inn through the windows, casting elongated shadows across the wooden floor. The sounds of awakening nature filled the air, the roosters crowing and birds chirping outside the inn.

As he surveyed the nearly empty inn, Greatjon spied the innkeeper, Sten, bustling about, arranging chairs and tables in preparation for the day's patrons. 

The innkeeper glanced over and greeted Greatjon with a smile. "Looking for the lad? Sorry to say, he took off as soon as your head hit the table. Mentioned something about meeting you again in Winterfell soon," Sten informed him as he continued setting up the tables.

Greatjon shrugged nonchalantly, though a hint of amusement flickered in his eyes. "Guess he's got his own plans," he remarked with a grin. "Well, more drinks for us, eh, Sten?"

Sten nodded and swiftly fetched a bottle of spirits, setting it down on the table with a grin. "Cheers to that," he said, pouring a drink for Greatjon and himself. "Still, the lad seemed serious enough about taking your son's life..." He added, his tone somewhat concerned. 

As Greatjon settled back in his seat, he took a long swig before responding to Sten's inquiry. "Oh, the lad's full of bravado and a sharp tongue, but I doubt he meant any of it," Greatjon said with a dismissive wave of his hand. 

"Besides, if he were truly after Littlejon, he wouldn't be asking around so openly, now, would he?" The towering northman added with a chuckle.

Sten nodded but appeared unconvinced. "Maybe he simply wasn't afraid? One never knows with these kinds, especially around these times. It's best to keep an eye out for trouble, you know?" he cautioned.

Greatjon grunted in agreement, taking another gulp of the spirits. "You say that, but you still took the lad's gold and told him where to find Jon..." he replied giving the innkeeper a dirty look. 

"If a stranger offers me gold for what is public knowledge, I'll gladly take it, but my loyalty will always be with House Umber..." Sten said with a shrug. "You know what your uncle did for me and my family..." 

As the morning light flooded the inn, Greatjon and Sten continued their conversation, their voices mingling with the sounds of the awakening town. The giant of a man seemed relaxed despite the peculiar encounter, convinced that the conversation with Gale had been nothing more than an odd, alcohol-fueled banter.