Silence lingered in the tent for a moment.
Only the firewood crackled, sending sparks up before they drifted back down.
Jon emerged from his thoughts, raised his head, and looked over the faces of everyone present.
Tormund, Ygritte, Alliser Thorne, and the Wildling chiefs seated in a circle around the fire-all eyes rested on him, waiting for him to speak.
He began slowly.
"Tomorrow, once the blizzard eases," he said, his voice quiet but carrying clearly to every corner of the tent, "we will storm Winterfell again."
His words were met with utter silence.
Then the Wildling chiefs' expressions began to change.
Some frowned, some lowered their heads and stared wordlessly into the fire, and others opened their mouths only to close them again, exchanging uneasy glances.
They had already assaulted the castle twice. Aside from leaving hundreds of corpses behind, they had not even managed to scale the walls once.
What would be different the third time?
Jon saw the looks on their faces.
Rather than shy away, he continued, his voice graver than before. "This time, I will lead the assault myself."
The atmosphere in the tent changed abruptly.
The chiefs who had lowered their heads to avoid his gaze looked up, astonishment spreading across their faces.
They had not expected Jon to say such a thing-not ordering others to their deaths, but taking the lead himself.
"No."
A voice broke the silence.
Ygritte stood.
Her red hair looked like a blaze in the firelight. She stared at Jon, anger and concern plain in her eyes. "You are the king of all the Free Folk. How can a king risk throwing his life away?"
Jon was about to speak when another voice cut in.
"She is right."
Alliser Thorne stepped out of the corner with his arms folded.