Few things felt as cold as the top of the Wall. Even beyond the Wall,
the air wasn't as thin or harsh, threatening to throw him over the
edge if he got too close. When Jon did, it felt as if he were truly
standing at the edge of the world, at the edge of life itself, daring
death to take him.
And now he'd stared into death's eyes and knew it was coming for
him.
The Night King would come, and with him a hundred thousand
corpses armed and undying. A hundred thousand things waiting to
kill him, to end the life of anyone they saw and make them join their
ever growing army.
There was no hope for victory, only retreat. They couldn't cross the
water, that was obvious, otherwise they might have crossed the
bodies to either side of the wall by now. They would have found a
way to reach the boats and kill everyone fleeing Hardhome. They
couldn't cross the Wall and they couldn't cross the water.
Hope was south of the Wall.
Yet passing through the gates to Castle Black he felt only dread. The
Night King would come, but now he'd have to face Thorne and the
others, make them put aside their concerns and see reason. He'd
have to convince them to work together, or they'd all die. At least
he'd had the sense to open the gate and let them return.
"Every one of them is alive because of you," Sam told him as they
watched the free folk pass through the gates. "And no one else."
"I don't think that fact's lost on them," Jon said with a slight nod to a
group glaring at the free folk. He watched Wun Wun pass through,
saw Olly angrily hurry off.
Sam went to speak but stopped and stepped aside when he saw
Thorne approaching.
"You have a good heart, Jon Snow," he said dismissively. "It'll get us
all killed."
Watching Thorne leave, his attention turned to Sam as he stepped to
him. "We received a guest while you were gone."
"Is it King Tommen this time?" Jon asked with a derisive laugh.
"No. A girl, says she knows you. In passing," Sam clarified with a
laugh. "Alayne Stone, came to trade on behalf of her uncle."
"Trade what?"
"Gilly says she's mentioned the Vale has supplies that could help us.
Enough that it's become a bother to store it all, so she says."
Edd sighed. "I bet she's pretty."
"She remembers Jon from seeing him in passing," Sam said shaking
his head. "Of course she is."
"Where is she?" Jon asked, ignoring their teasing.
"I suggested she stay in her room until they've passed. Thorne
mentioned we housed a wildling girl and she seemed a bit worried,
so I thought it best not to frighten her."
"Surprised a southerner would even know what a wildling is," Jon
said dismissively. It seemed as if the southron kingdoms didn't even
know the Night's Watch existed until they came to empty their cells.
"You said she's from the Vale?" Edd asked. "Her name's Stone?"
"Niece to the Lord Protector."
"Send her to my solar," said Jon.
Sam placed a hand on his shoulder. "You alright Jon?"
Jon offered a weak smile. "I'm alive. That's enough."
Back in his solar he removed his cloak and downed nearly half a
mug of ale to help warm him as he stood before the hearth. The chill
he'd felt since Hardhome lingered. It felt as if something had
attached itself to him, marked him and was draining all the warmth
from him, waiting to leave him cold and dead as a wight. Pulling all
the warmth from the world until it was as cold as the Night King's
eyes.
He barely heard the knock, setting the mug above the hearth. "Come
in," he called out, taking a breath.
The door opened, Jon turned, and warmth returned to the world.
She was different. Older, taller. She'd always been pretty, but it was
different now. Mature maybe, leaving behind pretty for beauty.
Understated by her simple gown and hair, but apparent and
undeniable.
There were no words, barely a noise apart from her shaky breath as
she watched him walk toward her. He came to a stop a meter from
her before his hands shifted and they dashed toward one another,
Sansa throwing her arms around his neck while he embraced her.
Behind her Brienne lowered her gaze until they broke apart. Sansa
held him, looking him over with a somber smile. "You're real," she
marveled. "You're real and you're alive."
"For now," he said with a small laugh. "What are you doing here?"
She glanced back to Brienne, who closed the door for them. With
just the three of them there and Podrick outside the door, she smiled.
"I'm Alayne Stone."
Jon looked from her to Brienne and back. After a moment he
nodded, stepping back. "I suppose that means no trade with the
Vale?"
Sansa smiled. "Sorry, I had to say something to stay here. To talk to
you."
"How'd you get here?" He frowned. "I heard you disappeared from
King's Landing. Where were you?"
"I was at the Vale," she said quietly. "Littlefinger, Petyr Baelish, he
helped me escape and brought me there. But Aunt Lysa, she's…"
She shook her head. "She sent me here to be with the last of my
family only days after we arrived."
At first he'd nodded, but then furrowed his brow. "Wait, how long
ago?"
Sansa sighed. "I made it past Moat Cailin with the knights she sent
to guard me, but they were killed by one of the Bolton's hunting
parties. I made it back, I was going to go back, but Brienne found
me. She swore her sword to me, helped me keep going, but there
were more parties. They kept forcing us back, but her and Podrick,
they kept me safe. It was…" She took a breath and shook her head,
sniffing.
Jon saw in her eyes that she'd seen awful things on her way here. It
had been harsh, constantly on the run, being hunted and hiding. His
gaze turned to Brienne, offering a smile. "Thank you. I can't thank
you enough for protecting Sansa."
Brienne bowed her head briefly. "I was only doing my duty, Lord
Commander."
Looking to Sansa he reached over to squeeze her shoulder. "You
stay here. I'll go get us something to eat. Something warm."
Sansa nodded, turning to watch him leave. Brienne remained,
glancing at Sansa as she looked around the room.
"I knew he'd do well here," she said looking at his cloak, half-ragged
and tattered. "Even still it's hard to believe it's really him."
"Does he seem different?" Brienne asked, tilting her head.
Sansa quickly shook her head. "No. Sure he's older, less… gangly
than I remember him, filled out I suppose, and he didn't have that
scar, but he's just as I thought he'd be."
"I'm glad you're so happy, my lady."
Sansa turned to her. "Hm?"
Brienne smirked. "You haven't stopped smiling since Sam told us to
stay inside."
Brienne left them to enjoy their time together, Sansa sipping at the
bowl of soup he'd brought her. He'd finished his and moved on to his
ale as they reminisced on Old Nan's kidney pies and shared a smile.
"We never should have left Winterfell," he declared facing the hearth.
"Don't you wish we could go back to the day we left?" She took a
breath, thinking of herself then. "I want to scream at myself, 'Don't
go, you idiot.'"
"How could we know?"
Sansa looked to him. "I spent a lot of time thinking about what an
ass I was to you." He looked down, avoiding her gaze. "I wish I could
change everything."
"We were children."
"I was awful, just admit it," she said, humor in her voice.
Jon chuckled. "You were occasionally awful." He met her gaze with a
smile. "I'm sure I can't have been great fun. Always sulking in the
corner while the rest of you played."
"Can you forgive me?" She asked, swaying her head slightly.
"There's nothing to forgive," he assured.
"Forgive me!" Her brow rose, a playfully demanding lilt to her voice.
"Alright," he relented, "I forgive you."
She smiled wide, victorious. As it shrank she reached out for his
hands, and a moment later choked on the mouthful of ale she'd
downed. Jon chuckled, taking it back.
"You'd think after thousands of years the Night's Watch would learn
how to make a good ale." His smile faltered and fell as he looked to
the fire.
"Is it okay if I stay here for a while?" She asked quietly, not wanting
to break whatever thought had him looking so somber, but feeling
like she needed to ask.
He turned to her and smiled. "You could be Queen of the Night's
Watch if you'd like. I'd never throw you out and I'll never let anything
happen to you." He snickered. "If I did Father's ghost would come
back and murder me."
"I can't stay here, not forever."
"You'll return to the Vale?"
"There's only one place I can go." She answered his arched brow,
"Home."
"Should we tell the Boltons to pack up and leave?" He asked with a
laugh.
She frowned, thinking. "You could help me take it back."
"Sansa," he sighed. "I…" He should have said he couldn't get
involved, that he'd taken a vow and had a duty. Instead he shook his
head. "How? I don't have an army."
"How many wildlings did you save?"
"They didn't come here to serve me."
"They owe you their lives," she challenged, getting to her feet. She
turned to put her bowl on a table. "You think they'll be safe here if
Roose Bolton remains Warden of the North?"
"Sansa," he said pleadingly.
She turned to him. "Winterfell is our home. It's ours and Arya's and
Bran's and Rickon's, wherever they are, and it belongs to our family.
We have to fight for it."
She stared at the back of Jon's head, sinking forward slightly as it
shook. "I've just brought thousands of wildlings through the gate. I
can't go running off to fight a war to the south. I'm Lord Commander.
I need to be here. I just…" He got to his feet and turned to her, his
brow knit, the hint of anger across his face deepened by somber
shadows. "I just watched thousands be slaughtered and rise again,
all of them set to come here and slaughter us all."
Sansa started to argue then stopped, blinking. "What?"
"I saw him, Sansa." Jon exhaled. "The Night King."
Brow furrowed, she shook her head. "Like from Old Nan's stories?"
"He's real, Sansa." He sighed. "I looked into his eyes and all I saw
was death. He raised his arms and everyone the wights had
slaughtered rose. They all stood up at once. Tens of thousands of
them, the biggest army in the world, and we can't stop them. Notwithout dragonglass. I barely managed to survive fighting a White
Walker."
"You fought a White Walker?" She asked stepping closer, shocked.
"I only killed it because of Longclaw."
"Longclaw?" She asked, following his eyes as he looked to the
sword belt on his bed. "Your sword?"
"It's valyrian steel. The White Walkers, I saw them shatter steel axes
like they were glass, but Longclaw stopped them. And there's barely
any others like it, and we'd need a mountain of dragonglass to even
stand a chance." He leaned against the back of chair he'd occupied
moments earlier. "The only thing keeping us safe is the Wall. This is
my fight now. And it's one I've already lost."
His despair left her shaken for a moment, terrified by the truth in his
words. She'd been right. Through the sorrow of the deaths he saw,
the fear and knowledge that he would lose, the determination to fight
because of the risk rather than in spite of it, though all of it was the
earnest sincerity she saw in Brienne's eyes months earlier. The
honesty pleading for her belief as much as he dreaded the truth he
spoke.
She took a light breath, just barely shaking her head as she stepped
toward him. "If we don't take back the North we'll never be safe. Not
from the Night King or the Boltons. I want you to help me… but I'll do
it myself if I have to."
His jaw shifted, keeping her gaze as he nodded. "I'll help."
Surprise broke her firm expression. "You will? What about your
vows?"
"Wouldn't be the first time I broke my vows," he sighed, "but at least
I'll know it's worth it if it means you're safe. Just give me time before
we ride off to war. Let's make sure we at least can win the battles to the south and hope the Wall keeps the others out while we're gone.
For now, how about we go see Ghost?"
In that moment her brilliant smile seemed like it would be worth
whatever might come.