Hours later, a knock came at the door. Ghost raised his head, the hackles rising on his back as Aurelia shifted off the bed.

"Ghost, stay," she said calmly. She moved toward the door, glancing up to see a belt hanging on the wall with one of Jon's daggers. She reached for it, clasping the hilt in her hand and withdrawing it before continuing to the door. She shifted it behind her back as she opened the door.

One of Selyse's guards stood before her. A young man Aurelia knew to be loyal to the Lord of Light.

"My lady," he said, almost coughing the words. "The Lady Melisandre sent me to tell you it is done. That you would know what that meant."

"What else did she say?"

"Nothing," a voice called from behind the young man. Melisandre stepped forward, dismissing the man with a wave of her hand. He stepped aside nervously, then walked off several yards.

Aurelia studied Melisandre for any indicator, but her face remained impassive as ever. Melisandre's gaze looked over Aurelia's shoulder, then back to her. She nodded to Aurelia. "He's not awake," she said softly. "But he lives."

"Still?"

"Again," Melisandre whispered. "And he must not be left alone for long. Come when you will, but I believe it was successful."

Without further word, Melisandre left Aurelia, the young man quick on her heels crossing the yard.

Aurelia closed the door. "She believes." She looked to Ghost. "What do you believe?"

The direwolf rested his head on his paws and blinked.

A commotion outside roused Aurelia from Ghost's side an hour later. She rushed to the door and flung it open. Ghost sprinted past her, not heeding as she called after him. He ran for Melisandre's rooms, men scattering in his path.

In the yard, a cluster of men were arguing. Aurelia slipped the dagger into her belt against her back and strode outside. "What the hell is going on here," she demanded, approaching the group.

In the center of the small gathering stood Bowen Marsh and Tormund Giantsbane. Marsh tried to appear calm but Aurelia could see his hand tremble as three men held Tormund at bay.

The wildling looked to Aurelia. "You, charming wench. Tell me this man lies, or let me rip his head from his shoulders."

"Lies about what?"

"That Jon Snow is dead."

Aurelia swallowed. She did not look at Marsh, keeping her focus on Tormund. "He is."

Marsh turned and ran, slipping past several confused men of the Watch coming to see the commotion.

Tormund again struggled to break free of those holding him.

"Let him go, Tormund," Aurelia said calmly. "He has nowhere to run. Come," she reached out her hand. "There is much to say without others listening."

He stopped struggling, looking her over several times. "Do you not want his head smashed in?"

Aurelia took a step forward, her hand still outstretched. "Let's find a warmer place to talk. I imagine you could use some food and a good drink, yes?"

A smile broke through under Tormund's beard. "Har! Trying to make me forget my rage with more physical pleasures?" He stepped to her, grabbing her hand. "Lead the way. I'll hear your words for now, because I'm famished and you're beautiful."

Tormund's rage was not as easily quelled as he led her to think it might be, but she was able to subdue him over the course of the night. When he passed out on Jon's floor just before dawn, he seemed to have gained some more respect for her. She slipped outside, heading directly for Melisandre's chambers. The guards outside let her into the outer room where the priestess stood before a small fire pit.

"He still has not awoken," Melisandre said softly. "But the wolf sits with him now."

"That isn't why I came."

"I know, but you wanted to know how he is. Truthfully, I do not know yet. This spell, this gift, it is unpredictable."

Aurelia nodded. "I suppose you heard of Tormund Giantsbane's rage."

"Yes. Where is he now?"

"Asleep. I think I was able to convince him he still needs to attend to the mission given to him, but not without divulging this." She gestured toward the inner chambers.

Melisandre turned to her. "He listened to you?"

"Full of ale and food and warmth he'll listen to much. How much he will heed is another story."

"And what of the traitor?"

"You likely know more than myself. I cannot stand the sight of him without-" Aurelia stopped herself. "Do you know of anything?"

"He hides. His guilt and anger are great. It is difficult to tell which will win out."

"And the other men?"

"Confused. Order here is tipping toward chaos."

"That's what happens when a leader is stabbed in the back."

Melisandre moved to a small table, pouring a goblet of wine. She held it out to Aurelia. "Would you welcome the chaos?"

Aurelia took the goblet. "No. It will solve nothing. But my respect for the Watch, what it claims to stand for, I cannot abide its practices."

"Is that what you will tell him when he wakes?"

She moved toward the larger fire, embers glowing under the mantle. "That depends who he is when he wakes."

"I see."

"Do you?"

"Better than you know," she replied, pouring herself a goblet of wine. She raised to Aurelia then took a sip.

That's my fear, Aurelia thought. "How long?"

Melisandre set her goblet down. "I do not know. That he lives is good. That the direwolf is by his side is better. The rest - there are some things even god cannot tell us."

Aurelia nodded. "I'll come back tomorrow."

"If he wakes before then?"

"Tell him I'll return tomorrow." She turned and left, leaving her goblet on the mantle, untouched.

Melisandre finished her wine, then took the girl's goblet, moving toward the inner chamber. She pressed open the door, silently slipping in and closing the door behind her.

The figure on the bed stirred as she approached. His eyes fluttered open as she set the goblet on the table beside the bed.

"Where is she?" He whispered.

"She will come tomorrow."

He eyed her. "You still haven't told her I'm awake."

"There are many things in motion right now, Jon Snow. Chaos threatens us all, and Lady Moors could tip it in either direction."

Jon struggled to raise himself up on his elbows. "You lied to her. What lies have you told me?"

"None."

"But you have omitted many things."

Melisandre took the goblet from the table and handed it to him. "Drink. Place your fingers where hers held this cup moments ago. You will see one another again soon."

Jon took a small sip. "And what then?"

She smiled. "We'll see."

"I suppose we will. Rest, Jon Snow. You'll want your strength when she comes, I'm sure."

Without further word, she left as silently as she arrived. Jon downed the wine, swallowing in gulps. He then held the goblet in front of his face for a moment, turning it in his fingers. He looked down at Ghost who remained curled up at the end of the bed.

"She'll know me still, right?" He sighed. "She must."

He leaned over and set the goblet on the table, flinching at the pain in his side. He settled back onto the pillows and nudged the direwolf with his foot.

"Some help you are," he grumbled. Ghost huffed, his hind legs stretching a bit, but made no other motions.

"I know. Patience is not a virtue of mine."