"If you keep doing that you'll run into a tree."
"Doing what?"
"You know perfectly well what."
Jon smiled as they rode alongside one another. The road had been narrow in many places, with snows drifting to their heads or higher, and yet the Kingsroad remained passable and so far clear of any other travelers of note. Just beyond Last Hearth they came across a few members of the Umber's household chopping down a tree, but otherwise their journey was quiet.
"Soon," he said as his smile faded, "it's going to be too long a time before I'm able to appreciate that face again."
"It's not exactly at its best right now." Currently, most of Aurelia's face was covered by thick wool; puffs of breath expelled from it when she spoke.
"You're always beautiful to me," Jon remarked, his own voice slightly muffled by his scarf pulled high.
She looked to him and rolled her eyes, but he knew beneath those layers of wool she blushed, and not from cold. "You're strange."
Jon shrugged and her eyes brightened with a smile. They rode in silence for a bit. Reaching a section where the path narrowed again while the snow drift height came down to their horses' flanks, Ghost darted past them off in the woods.
"He seems happy."
"We're in his world now. Direwolves were meant for winter."
"What did he get up to while you were with the Wildlings?"
"I don't know, really."
"Could you feel him?"
"Sometimes. Sometimes I dreamed of him. I wonder..." His voice faded and Aurelia looked to him. They rode very close, any narrower and the path would force them to ride single file, though for now it held its width.
"Wonder what?"
"You said Robb- that he and Greywind- I wonder if any of the others could."
They continued in silence for a moment longer.
"All of you were close to your pups."
"You think that's all it takes? A bloodline?"
"You were the one who believed those wolves were meant to be found, to be raised with each of you. And the connection between you and Ghost, between Robb and Greywind, it- even when Bran was abed, Summer was always by his side, saved his life. I don't know if this is your way of asking if Arya and Nymeria will ever come together, or ever find us again, but I hope they do. I hope for that very much."
Jon sighed and began to reply when Ghost darted in front of the horses. They jerked to a stop, tails flicking anxiously.
"What is it?" Jon asked, smoothing a hand along his horse's neck as Ghost rounded to face them. The direwolf's fur bristled on the back of his neck. Aurelia and Jon looked at one another. Aurelia nodded. He handed her the reigns of his horse. He sat upright in the saddle, then folded forward as his eyes went milk white. Ghost huffed and danced on his paws as though he wanted to dart off, but stopped. He looked up at Aurelia, pawed the ground three times, then took off.
It was their signal now, Jon's acknowledgment to Aurelia that he was in control, or at least sharing control. She sat there, trying not to think of the cold attacking her. When they were moving she could ignore it some. Progress was being made. But standing still, unless it was making camp for the night, unnerved her. She wasn't sure how well she could whistle the practiced warning to call Ghost-Jon back if trouble came with the cold trying to drive the air and moisture from her. At least it had been dry so far, no new snow to threaten to bury them before they reached the division point. Tomorrow. Tomorrow he would be gone, and for a days she would be without him. If he never made it to Winterfell, or was caught before entering the labyrinth of crypts- she looked at his limp form and shook her head.
You cannot fear that, she chided herself. What will be will be. He did not come back from the dead only to fall at the gate to his freedom. He will live. We will live. And we will serve justice for the fallen and the lost.
A moment later, Ghost came trotting back. Aurelia kept her gaze on Jon whose eyes cleared. He gave her hand a squeeze and she returned it.
"Tormund managed to get ahead of us. It's only him and two others. They were scouting the forests for places to camp."
"Did they find any?"
"We'll find out soon enough. They're coming back this way."
Aurelia and Jon continued forward and within minutes they heard the approaching wildlings. Yet their approach, had it meant to be an attack, would have been a stealthy one as neither Aurelia or Jon had heard the snowshoes of the experienced men approach. It was Ghost who gave them away, pausing and sniffing the air with several huffs before the men came around a bend in the road. Tormund beamed when he saw the pair. The other two were older than he, more grizzled, smaller, but clearly familiar with winter and its terrain. All walked just off the road Amelia and Jon were on, keeping close to the trees.
"Another few hours and we would have beat you to your castle," Tormund said as the men reached Aurelia and Jon.
"I doubt you'd get a warm welcome. Unless you find warmth in wearing your skin in reverse."
"That I could do without. And yet you risk it, my girl."
"We could swap if you like. Though I'm not sure you'd be the type of bride the Boltons would approve of."
"That lad does any harm to you, and I'll stick an axe in his face. His father, too."
"Let us hope it does not come to that."
"Are your people in place?" Jon shifted in his saddle. He deplored any talk of the Boltons and what awaited Aurelia.
"Aye, we'll be only a couple hours out from ye until the signal, then we'll move to the edge of your Wolfwood until you come."
Jon nodded. "Good."
"The men are restless for a fight."
"They'll get one," Jon assured. "So long as you can keep them at bay until the signal is given. Two weeks in the woods-"
"Is better than any day beyond The Wall. They will do as commanded. They respect me, they respect you, and they've heard enough about these Boltons to want them gone. Stannis may be a cold leader, but a leader he is and he done a right by us. Our promise is worth more than any name scribbled on your fancy parchments."
"Thank you, Tormund. All of you." Aurelia nodded her sincerity.
"If you two sweethearts will excuse us, we should get back to our camp. Two, three days and there will be more snow." He nodded to Jon. "Hope you're prepared for that."
"I'll be quite able to withstand the snow," Jon replied. "Until next time." He held his free hand to Tormund (the other hand had not left Aurelia's since he came back from warging). Tormund stepped forward, gave it a firm shake. He then gave them both a clap on their thighs, and left with a hearty 'har!' which echoed through the woods. Ghost huffed, and the men moved off into the woods behind Jon and Aurelia. The pair exchanged a look, then nudged their mounts forward.
"Two weeks," Aurelia said once they had moved along the road a bit. "Will he really be able to control them that long?"
"He knows what awaits them if they attempt to take Winterfell before we've done our part. They'd be slaughtered. Tormund won't risk it, and any man who has hope of outliving this winter won't either."
Aurelia sighed, a large puff of steam escaping her scarf.
"This was your plan," he said, trying to sound encouraging.
"The wildling bit wasn't."
"We need more than the Northern lords. Whatever oaths they gave you-"
"I know. Words are wind. They've all lost so much and may not be willing to risk more when the moment comes. I have faith in them still, but I understand why you struck the deal with Tormund. And Winterfell could use strong men to rebuild and defend it this winter. It is only..."
"What?"
Aurelia glanced to him. He saw the concern in her eyes and it made his chest ache. She worried for Winterfell, yes, but the apprehension in her look was clearly for him. She turned back to the path.
"The wildlings will help us. The northern lords have promised the same. They have promised to work for us. They have not promised to work with each other. Should a rift occur like the one between-"
"It won't. There is too much at stake. The Watch has been fighting wildlings for hundreds of years. Most of the northern lords know the hill tribes. Even the occasional wildling crossing their lands is not an unfamiliar sight. They may dislike one another, but the same animosity is not there. And Selyse's men were spoiled fools."
"So are the Freys," Amelia said with a tinge of ice in her tone.
"Fools without protection. Once Roose and Ramsay are handled, the Freys will have no support."
"Jon- "
"Did you hear from Maege Mormont?"
There was a pause before her response. He was diverting her and she knew it. The question hanging in the pause was whether she'd allow it.
"I did. She is to arrive the day after us. Me."
"Good. You know I am as concerned for your safety as you are for mine." His tone caught her off guard. She anticipated chiding, or a lecture as she had nearly given him. Yet all that came from his voice was sincerity.
Aurelia slowed her mount and Jon came alongside her on his. Tears glistened in her eyes, but they were smiling. They held one another's gaze for a moment before their horses became tired of the unneeded pause in the cold and continued forward.
They made camp that evening off the path in a small thicket where the horses could be tied with some shelter. The fire was small, but they also had the benefit of some cover from the trees and the lean-to that had been fashioned for them at the meeting place with the wildlings in the Gift. They ate salt pork and stale bread with their last handfuls of dried blueberries, staying in their travel clothes for warmth (and readiness to flee if needed). Per the wildling scouts, they should still be at a safe distance from Bolton's watches which mainly kept to within sight of Winterfell, as well as any of Stannis's scouts looking for an access point to the holdfast. Still, neither wanted to risk getting closer or lighting a bright fire. Aurelia's arrival was expected, but Jon was reported dead and needed to stay that way for now.
Once they finished their meal, Jon put an arm around Aurelia. She scooted close to him, laying her head against his chest. They watched the fire for a time, with few words spoken. When he made the move to take her one more time, she complied with a fervor that drove his own. Each muffled their cries of release against the other and in the aftermath, once clothing had been reassembled, Jon slid a hand beneath Aurelia's heavy cloak and lay it on her breast, over her heart.
A sort of half-sleep fell over them both, and in time Ghost slipped to their little camp, panting with exertion over a fresh kill. He sniffed near the horses, then came to curl up beside the fire at the feet of his human companions.
"This is what I fight for," Jon murmured.
Aurelia hummed a question back at him.
"You and I together. Ghost at our feet. In a home, in our home. Whatever battles await us, against lords or white walkers or worse, this is what it is for. You are what it is for."
Aurelia shifted her head to look up at him. "As are you, my love," she smiled. "For all the nights that will be."
Jon smiled, kissing the cold tip of her nose, then her cheek, then her lips. They rubbed their noses together. Aurelia turned her head back toward the fire. Jon pulled up her scarf, then did the same with his own. For a time they spoke more, soft words of adoration mingled with final assertions of their plans until both drifted into a light sleep.
Waking at dawn, they cleaned up the camp and ate a meager breakfast of fish paste spread on the last of their bread while Ghost trotted off in search of his own meal. Jon fed the horses and gave them a bucket of water from melted snow that had been near the fire. They spoke little, but looks were exchanged that said more than words ever could. Once back on the path, Ghost joined them.
When it was time for them to split, Ghost whined until Aurelia had scratched his ears and kissed his nose three times. Jon's final words to her almost brought on a flood of tears, but they resisted them. Aurelia kissed him, long and passionate, then one final lingering press of her lips against his and she was gone. She did not look back, and once she was out of his sight, Jon turned his horse, called for Ghost, and moved toward his own path, back to the wildlings through the Wolfwood to gather his supplies. In three days he would be in the crypts to wait for Aurelia's signal. Three days she would be alone among the Boltons and Freys and he could do nothing but proceed with their plan. He prayed to any god that might listen that she would be alright, that should anything go amiss it happened while he was there to save her, that should, after all this time and everything they had gone through to get to this moment, she be taken from him, that he be granted the strength to end every Bolton and Frey and anyone else who led to her downfall before joining her in whatever hereafter there might be. For one thing he knew for certain: their fates were now tied, permanently, and when one died, the other would soon follow.