Sam left two days later, off to Oldtown to become a Maester after he dropped Gilly and Little Sam off with his family. Davos' return had been a surprise, but Melisandre's had destroyed his hope that Stannis would win Sansa's war for them.
It was difficult enough handling the Wall, but nearly impossible to try and plan against the Boltons when he had no idea how many men they had. Two thousand wildlings might be able to face three, maybe even four thousand if they were lucky and planned well, but for all he knew they'd march to Winterfell and find ten thousand armed and armored men waiting for them. At least it was only Roose Bolton leading them, or else Stannis and his men would be among those waiting for them.
He set down a letter from Eastwatch and rubbed his forehead, wishing he could sleep forever when the door burst open. "Lord Commander," Olly said as he entered. "It's one of the wildlings you brought back. Says he knows your uncle Benjen. Says he's still alive."
"Are you sure he's talking about Benjen?" He asked, his chair sliding back as he rose.
"Said he was first ranger." Jon made for the door as Olly followed. "Said he knows where to find him."
Thorne was waiting at the bottom of the stairs as Jon pulled on his gloves. "Man says he saw your uncle at Hardhome the last full moon."
"Could be lying."
"Could be. There are ways to find out."
"Where is he?"
"Over there," Thorne motioned toward the group of men standing crowded together.
Jon pushed through, and all the hope that had been building in him the past few days froze over and shattered when he saw the sign.
TRAITOR
He knew. He knew the moment he saw the plank nailed to the beam. He knew what would happen when he turned around, and he knew who it would be. And still he wanted to ask why, even as Thorne thrust the dagger into his abdomen.
As if to answer his unasked question, Thorne said firmly, "For the watch."
The dagger was ripped out of him, only for another to pierce his stomach. "For the watch."
The second was barely gone was the third struck. "For the watch."
The fourth felt quicker then the others. "For the watch."
The fifth seemed to linger before it was torn free. "For the watch."
He scanned the crowd, wishing he could fight them all, wanting to strike at them, but his body wouldn't move. Instead of charging forward, he fell to his knees.
The crowd parted and he saw Olly make his way toward him, stand in front of Jon and stare at him with every ounce of hate he held pushing away any regret he might have held.
The cold had started to return, all the warmth he'd found in the last few days pouring out of him, through his fingers. He was at Hardhome again, dead eyes meeting his. He wanted to say something. He wanted to be warm again.
"Ghost," he whispered before Olly drove the dagger into his heart.
His eyes flicked toward the King's Tower, where Ghost would be in Sansa's room. He'd keep her safe as much as Brienne and Podrick. He'd do what Jon couldn't. They didn't know yet, she was still Alayne to them, so they wouldn't hurt her. She could get out safe with Ghost and Brienne and Podrick and Edd. She could go to the Wildlings and find someplace safe. Davos and Tormund would take care of her.
He swayed slightly before falling back into the snow, the world collapsing into darkness as his eyes clouded and the cold claimed him.
Sansa sat up as Ghost howled and scratched at her door. "Ghost," she said patting the bed to try and get his attention and quiet him. He ignored her, clawing at the door and howled again, sounding agonized and mournful.
If it were any other wolf or dog she might have gotten annoyed, but this was Ghost. Quiet, gentle Ghost who barely made a sound despite being nearly as big as a horse.
Something was wrong.
Once she'd put on her robe she opened the door and Ghost bolted from the room, nearly knocking Podrick over. He and Brienne stood on the small walkway in front of the tower door, shock on their faces as she noticed Davos rushing down the stairs into the yard.
Sansa's fell on the figure laying in the yard, and she shook her head. "No," she whispered, making her way toward the stairs. Brienne reached for her but Sansa pushed her away, holding her skirt as she sped down the stairs. "No, no, no!"
"It's the Lord Commander!"
Davos took a knee to look him over while Sansa felt her knees soak in the bloodied snow around him. "Jon," she begged, clutching his arm as his cloudy eyes stared lifelessly ahead. Tears stained her cheeks, shaking him gently as though he were sleeping. "Jon, please, gods, no! Please!"
"Help me get him inside," Davos told the men that had come, Podrick helping pick up his body while Brienne helped Sansa stand. It was only then she saw the sign. She was trembling, feeling as thought she'd collapse if not for Brienne guiding her after the others.
Once they were inside and Edd had closed Jon's eyes, she stood beside him, her fingers going numb as they dug into his jerkin, sobbing while she pressed her forehead to his chest.
"Thorne did this," Edd said, bile in his throat, venom in his words.
"How many of your brothers do you think you can trust?" Davos asked.
"Trust?" After a moment Edd answered, "The men in this room."
Davos looked to Brienne, stood behind Sansa with her hand on the girl's back while Podrick frowned beside her. Her reaction surprised him, baffled him in a way. They seemed friendly enough, but she wailed like a widow.
There was a knock and Sansa's head shot up as the brothers drew steel. A female voice called through the door. "Ser Davos?"
With a glance at the knight, Edd opened the door and Melisandre looked past him, stepping inside. Her curiosity sank to sorrow as she approached the table, Sansa standing straight but staying next to him, her fingers still clutching his side.
"I saw him in the flames," she said disheartened. "Fighting at Winterfell."
Sansa looked to Melisandre, brow furrowed. How did she know? They'd been careful not to let the others know they planned to retake it. If anyone but them, Brienne and Podrick were in a room they spoke of false trade. They hadn't even spoken to the wildlings yet, Jon wanting to let them mourn their dead before he asked them to lose more.
"I can't speak for the flames," said Davos, "but he's gone."
Melisandre touched his cheek, looking as if her dreams had died with Jon, just as Sansa's had.
She could continue, try to make it without him, but what was the point? Why should she bother? No matter what she endured, how much she grit her teeth to bear it all, it always ended with death. Why not let it end with hers, here, beside the last person who mattered, beside the last of their direwolves.
All of her hopelessness was mirrored in Melisandre's eyes when she looked to Sansa mournfully, shaken to her core before she turned and left for her room.
"My Lady," Davos said carefully. "I'd suggest you and your guards leave Castle Black as soon as you can. Send someone else to trade if you must, but-"
"I'm not leaving him," she practically growled, her jaw set as she looked to Davos.
"Lady Alayne, please-"
"I'm Sansa Stark," she cut him off. The others went wide eyed, Davos arching his brow as her anger melted and she looked at Jon. "I came here for his help. I won't leave him, not like this. I'll die before I let them touch him again."
Ghost whined softly, pressing his snout to Jon's hand before doing the same to Sansa's arm. She glanced down, smiling sadly as her right hand released his side to rub Ghost's head. A moment later her left released Jon's jerkin, moving to grip his hand instead.
She looked to Brienne and Podrick, both wearing somber expressions. "I'm sorry Brienne, Podrick, but if I'm to die I'd rather it be beside him. I release you from your duties to me if you wish."
Brienne stood taller than normal as she shook her head. "With all respect, I refuse your dismissal, my lady."
"Me as well," Podrick said with a nod and a grim smile.
Sansa smiled despite her tears as she returned her gaze to Jon. "Then let the Starks die here as a pack."