✓ Trueblood || Jon Snow

𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖊𝖙𝖊𝖊𝖓 ~ 𝖓𝖔𝖙 𝖌𝖔𝖓𝖊 𝖞𝖊𝖙

THE DARKNESS WAS COLD AND HEAVY, dragging him down deeper and deeper. Soon, he would disappear entirely. He would truly be gone. And then the fire came. It burned across his vision, wrapping it's hot tendrils around him and yanking him from the shadows.

Jon woke with a gasp, finding himself lying on a cold table. He blinked once, twice, three times. He was alive? How could he possibly be alive? He looked down across his bare torso at the gashes left by daggers, feeling fear wash over him as he sat upright. He must be dead. But then something warm and furry pressed against his hand. He looked down to find Ghost nuzzling him happily. The air rushed from his mouth. Somehow, he was alive. But what about-

The door burst open,Ser Davos once again interrupting his thoughts, though it was a very welcome interruption this time. The Onion Knight looked just as shocked as Jon felt. "She really did it." he muttered.

"What happened?" Jon's voice was hoarse.

Davos sighed. "We found you dead in the snow, clutching onto the princess. They did a number on you both. I convinced the Red Woman to bring you back."

"Where is she? Where's Yelena?" Davos nodded at something behind Jon, and he turned to see her lying on a table, clad in only a linen nightgown, Lishay standing protectively by her side. A bandage was wrapped over her chest, but there was very clearly too much blood. Her breathing was ragged and struggling, making his heart stutter as he moved to her side. "Why? Why isn't she..."

"Because she never died." Jon whirled to see the Red Woman standing in the doorway. "Alliser missed her heart. He came very near, but he missed it. Yelena never died, so you were my priority, and now..." she looked down. "The princess is dying. I cannot save her. I haven't the strength to call on such power again."

Hours later, Jon still sat by her side, dressed now. He gripped her hand gently, recounting aloud some of his favourite times with her at Winterfell, his stomach flipping with fear whenever she shivered, or when her breathing rattled a little too hard. He noticed some other scars too; a jagged one across her left, upper arm looked to be sloppily cut, likely made by someone who wasn't trained. He recalled what she'd said about Joffrey not allowing her to carry weapons, his anger rising when he realised how hard it would have made it to fend off even untrained attackers. There was a newer one on her right thigh that looked to be just healing. This one was a cleaner cut, but a dirty, unorthodox move. Probably the brigands, he thought.

"It's not right." he whispered to her. "It's not right that I'm well and you're dying. It shouldn't be like this. You should have gone to the room." his voice cracked. "Gods, why couldn't you just listen to me? Please come back. I can't- I just got you back, I can't lose you again."

Two days passed before Edd and Davos made Jon go back to his chambers to sleep. He fought them, fearing Yelena would die while he was gone, but eventually gave in. "You can't do anything about it, even if you stay here." Edd told him sadly. "But she'd want you to take care of yourself."

When Jon returned, he froze in the doorway, not quite ready to believe what he saw, for fear that it might dissolve before his very eyes. But there she was. She still wasn't conscious, but colour had returned to her features, her breaths deep and easy, and where the bandage had been, he now saw a new scar. His eyes flashed to the corner. The Red Woman.

"It would seem the Lord of Light has heard your pleas..." she smiled. "And answered." she swept out the door, leaving him staring at Yelena again. Sure there was some blood, but other than that, he could almost imagine she was only sleeping.

He rushed to her side, grasping her hand, which was warm now. He laughed quietly, amazement and relief flooding him. "Yelena... it's alright now. You're alright."