Witch of Winterfell

Chapter Twenty Two

MELISANDRE LOOKED AROUND THE ROOM.

Tormund stood with his arms crossed over his chest. His dark, beady eyes were narrowed suspiciously and, if she didn't know any better, rather accusingly.

Davos, on the other hand, removed any hostility he felt towards the woman from his face. He never trusted her but he had hoped, rather naïvely, that she'd at least help. Especially after what she did to Shireen Baratheon.

Ed, however, could only remain impassive for so long. He wouldn't do anything physical, as demanded by the Marina, but he couldn't stop a verbal attack.

"Did it work?" Ed asks.

Melisandre blinked, licked her lips and looked down at the corpse of Jon Snow. She couldn't remember anything past the first incantation. When she tried, a red mist appeared in her mind. She could see it, she could feel it but she can't get past it.

She removed her hands, flexing her fingers to shake the coldness away. Jon Snow's body still lay motionless and tattered with deep, uneven cuts along his chest and torso. His blue lips still remained parted, but his chest never rose nor did it deflate. His dark brown eyes still remained hidden behind his eyelids. Jon Snow still remained dead.

Yet, the pendent around his neck pulsed with energy.

"Well?" Ed pushed. "Did your Lord take your hearing as compensation for his help?"

Melisandre remained quiet. After all, what could she say? She blacked out and couldn't remember anything after closing her eyes. With Ed's clear hostility and Davos's obvious disdain, she knew she couldn't come out with the truth.

So, instead, she looked Sir Davos in the eyes and gave a small, subtle shake of her head. To her surprise he wasn't angry, nor did he seem disappointed. It almost seemed like he expected this outcome. When she looked over to Tormund, who hasn't said anything, he looked impassive as well.

"You say you've never done this before, right, my lady?" Sir Davos asks.

Again, she shakes her head.

"Then we can't be sure it didn't work. I plan to-"

Jon Snow sat up abruptly, his once dark brown eyes now open in panic. Melisandre backed herself into the wall, nearly tumbling over a chair in the process. Ed and Sir Davos both unfurled their arms in shock.

Everything was too bright despite the little light the fire created. Yet he couldn't feel it's warmth. He couldn't feel his fingers nor his toes. His throat had long since dried up, as did his eyes that kept blinking in panic. However, he could feel the pain of his memories consuming his thoughts. He could remember the looks each person had given him before they stabbed him.

Jon looked down at his chest. His numb, shaking fingers gently brushed along the wounds. He could still feel each sword bury itself into his torso.

His breath grew labored. He couldn't breathe.

His throat felt as though it was closing up again. The edges of his vision began to blur and he thought, for less than a second, that he was going to die again. That thought only encouraged his heart to beat even faster.

Without even realizing what he was doing, he attempted to stand. Sir Davos immediately removed his cloak and caught him as his legs gave out from under him.

"Breathe, boy." Sir Davos says, gently easing him into the chair Melisandre had stumbled over. "You have to breathe les' you pass out."

"They stabbed me!" Jon exclaims, tightening his grip on the cloak. "They took turns and Olly, he-" killed me. "I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't be alive."

"The sorceress brought you back" Sir Davos replies.

"Aye, and that necklace you always wear. Caught hell trying to get that back." Ed adds. At his words, Jon's fingers instinctively reach for the familiar pendent lay on his neck.

Melisandre, who had been gathering herself in the corner of the room, stepped forward and sunk to her knees in front of Jon. "Afterwards, when you died, where did you go? What did you see?"

Jon looked up at Davos before looking into the crazed eyes of Melisandre. Her pupils frantically roamed his face looking for anything they could and it made him uncomfortable.

"Nothing. There was nothing at all." Jon's voice trembled, though he tried to even it out.

"You're lying. You saw something, or someone." Jon looked away. "Did you see the Lord of Light? Did you?"

Tormund, Ed and Davos looked at one another briefly, all having similar thoughts—there's no way Jon had seen her Lord.

"Alright woman, the lad did just come back from the dead." Ed began, not noticing Jon flinch. "Your Lord requires silence, remember?"

"Could you three give us a moment?" Sir Davos asks, looking pointedly at Ed, who shrugged his shoulders.

Tormund is, as always, the first to move, but not without clapping Jon on the shoulder. Ed follows, giving the young boy a nod. Melisandre, though reluctant, gave Jon a pointed look that sent shivers down his spin.

Once they were gone, Davos took a seat in front of the boy. "I'm not going to ask how you're feeling because this is all fucking mad to me." He begins. "I can't even imagine how this feels for you."

"I was dead. I was murdered for doing what I thought was right, and now I'm back. Why?"

"When the Red Woman asked what you saw on the other side, you said nothing, but you lied. You saw something."

Ghost pressed his cold nose to Jon's knee, whining, nearly scaring him in the process. He hadn't even realized he was in the room. Still, his presence bought a smile to his face. His beady red eyes, though, immediately wiped the smile away.

Jon's breathing began picking up again as a thick red mist seeped beneath the door. It was whispering, calling out his name as it drew closer. Ghost whined again but Jon didn't hear it. He couldn't. The whispers got louder and louder to the point that they became shouts.

Davos followed Jon's wide eyed stare to the door, but didn't see anything. The wind howled outside, and with it was the bitter cold snow. Nothing out of the ordinary.

"Jon." Davos called but, again, it feel on deaf ears. So, he took the young man's face into his hands, forcing him to look away from whatever he sees at the door. "Jon, whatever you see isn't real. But you have to breathe. Breathe, Jon."

Slowly, as he brought his breathing down, the mist slowly retreated back under the door. The shouts turned back into whispers, then to nothing.

"She did this, didn't she?" Jon says after a moment. "She brought me back?"

Davos nods. "I'm not one to believe in magic or Gods, but what she did changed my mind."

"She shouldn't have done that. I'm not supposed to be here."

"Aye, that may be true, but you are alive. That woman gave you a second chance. You go on and you fight for as long as you can."

"I don't want a second chance!" Jon yells. "I didn't know how to be a leader. I thought I did but—" Jon had to close his eyes briefly to get rid of the the memories of that dreadful night, lowering his voice as well. "I tried to do right by people and I was killed for it. She had no right to do this to me."

"She did what she thought was right, same as you. The only difference is she didn't fail." Davos says. "I planned for Melisandre to do it, regardless of the repercussions, and she said she'd try. Marina came and protected you.You'd fault her for that?"

Jon opened his eyes and looked up at Davos. "She taught me that death is a part of life. When dead men from my father's army were brought back to Winterfell, boys no older than me that I'd play with, she'd tell me that they've moved on to a better place. I died, Davos. I failed and I died. Why didn't she let me find my peace?"

"I don't know, lad, and perhaps we'll never know. I can understand wanting to find peace, and I understand your anger, but maybe it wasn't your time." Davos says. "If you want someone to blame, blame me. I failed, you failed, Melisandre failed. What does it matter? We'll keep failing. Maybe we'll be able to clean up all the shit in the world."