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The fire was burning on the fireplace, but inside Jon Snow was ice cold. He was alone in the world, more than ever. Choosing the Wall was choosing to be alone, but now everything was even worse.

His father was dead. Robb was dead. Bran and Rickon were dead. No one knew neither Arya’s nor Sansa’s whereabouts. Ygritte was dead. Winterfell was destroyed. His whole world has fallen apart, right in front of his eyes, and there was nothing he could do about it.

But he had obligations now, obligations he couldn’t run from, obligations that only made him even colder.

“Just you and I now, Ghost.” He mumbled to the white wolf as he approached the fire. “Just you and I.”