A/N: I think I'll have to take a little hiatus after this chapter. I have a few exams coming up and I need to study so see you guys until then.
Disclaimer: Game of Thrones is not mine.
Summary: Jon Snow rose from the blaze of the pyre, hair and eyes burning, skin blistered but unburnt, brandishing a flaming Valyrian steel sword. The look on Alliser Thorne's face was one of disbelief and dread and Melisandre smiled. "Fire cannot kill a dragon, Alliser Thorne." she told him and walked away.
Sansa burst into the room in a flurry with tears in her eyes.
"Jon," she whispered and proceeded to embrace Jon. He was more than stunned but welcomed it. He wrapped his arms around his sister and sighed. He had never been particularly close with Sansa while they grew up. She took from her mother too much and when she was older and realized who he was, she had never been more than courteous with him. But now, seeing as they are both what's left of their family, Sansa clung to him like a lifeline, sobbing and smiling.
"I came to the Wall and they told me you almost died." Sansa said, her voice thick with tears. Then her eyes hardened like steel, her blue eyes colder than the northern winds. "Those cowards deserve far worse than death."
It had surprised Jon but he didn't let it show on his face. Sansa had always been so ladylike when she was a little girl that it unnerved Jon to see her so vengeful. But that had been lifetimes ago and she was no longer a little girl. Sansa had witnessed horrors as much as Jon did himself. It saddened Jon how much hurt she must have gone through to burn that innocence out of her.
"It's all right, Sansa." Jon placated her. "I'm all right."
"No, you're not, Jon." she said, shaking her head. "The men told me that you were dead. Ser Eddison Tollett told me you were stabbed six times. You were on a pyre! They were burning you when you rose from the flames. You're not even burned."
Those last words had been more to herself as she took in Jon's appearance. His hair was shorter. Sam had cut off the singed edges and his arms are covered in blisters. His torso and his chest were wrapped in bandages but the Red Woman had told Sansa that it would heal as if those wounds weren't lethal at all. He had a cut by his brows and he was paler than his usual color but other than that, there was no other sign that showed he had died.
Jon frowned. "I had a dream. No, a vision." he said. "I saw my mother."
Sansa stiffened. Jon's parentage had always been somewhat forbidden to be spoken about in their family. Even her mother had not known who Jon's mother was. Her father had been as silent as the dead and he seemed to have taken the secret with him to the grave. Until now.
"Who—who was she?" she asked tentatively.
Jon laughed humorlessly. He closed his eyes and his face contorted in pain. Sansa had risen up, looking panicked.
"Jon, are you all right?" she asked.
Jon nodded and he opened his eyes. His eyes looked older than he was. Jon had never been carefree but Sansa remembered him to be a lot less burdened when he left for the wall. The horror that they had witnessed and their loss both aged them greatly.
Sansa sat back down on the bed. He looked at Sansa and he smiled sadly.
"My mother's name was Lyanna Stark." he said.
"What?" Sansa said. "But father was your—"
"He was my uncle." Jon interrupted her.
"This doesn't make sense. How can he be your uncle? He claimed you as his son." Sansa denied.
"He lied to protect me. If Robert Baratheon knew who I was, he would have killed me and our family." Jon said. "My father was Rhaegar Targaryen."
Sansa's eyes widened.
"My mother loved him." Jon continued. "She was dying from birthing me in the Tower of Joy when your father found her. She made him promise to take care of me."
Sansa was silent for a few moments before her eyes lit up. "If this is true," Sansa said. "Jon, you're the rightful prince."
"I don't care." he told her. "The iron throne had caused nothing but misery to our family. I don't want it."
"You're the blood of the Starks and of the dragons," Sansa insisted. "Your claim is stronger than anyone's. You can end this game, Jon. You can unite the kingdoms and rule. You can build an empire of peace. You can avenge our family."
"My place is here, on the Wall." Jon said. "I made a vow. My place is here with my brothers."
"And they killed you." Sansa hissed. "Your vow ended the moment you died by your brothers' hands."
Jon frowned and then he sighed. "Sansa—"
The door burst open and in came Edd shortly followed by Sam. Edd was smiling like a fool and Jon smiled back minutely while Sam had a knowing grin on his face.
"The Lord Commander is finally awake, thank the gods." Edd said as he came forward, sounding as sardonic as ever. "Now, get all these responsibilities off me hands, eh? Before I chop someone's bloody head off."
Jon chuckled. Edd saw Sansa and he gave a short bow.
"Forgive me, m'lady. I had to see it for meself." he said. Sansa nodded at him.
"Not just yet, Edd." Jon said. He turned to Sam. "Gather all our brothers. I need to speak to them."
"You're not better yet." Sansa argued.
"We're running out of time, Sansa." Jon insisted. "Winter is coming."
Hearing her house's words had her nodding stiffly. She'd heard of the threat beyond the wall and knew those words are more than just a noble house's fancy. The long night is coming and the dead come with it. The world was ending.
Sansa excused herself while Jon dressed carefully. Sam and Edd had stayed to give him an account on what happened during the last six days.
"After they stabbed you, they built a pyre to burn you." Edd told him. "When we lit the pyre, Ghost had come and howled so loud. I don't even know how he got out of his stable. Then you just stood up, with Longclaw flaming on your hand and screamin' like you're burnin'. But you weren't. Your eyes were all white and you stepped out of the pyre. Then you collapsed. Ghost wouldn't let anyone come near you but me so I hauled you up and got other men we trust to help me, the wolf seemed fine with that. I sent some men to get Sam and your sister arrived and here we are."
Jon nodded, deep in thought.
"Tormund barged right up on our gates when he heard that you died with at least a hundred other wildlings." Edd continued. "They weren't pleased that the Watch murdered their savior. It caused a bit of a ruckus but we managed not to kill each other."
Jon sighed. "Where are they now?" he asked.
"They're still here. They want to make sure you survive." Edd scoffed.
"Like your very own kingsguard." Sam jested, laughing nervously and Edd snorted. A shiver ran down Jon's spine. It was too close for comfort. Jon took a deep breath and reached for his cloak. He groaned when the movement upset his wounds.
Sam came forward and helped him with it.
"Jon, are you sure about this?" he asked. "We can always do it tomorrow."
"No, Sam. I'm not sure." Jon said, looking Sam in the eye. "But it has to be done."
Sam nodded and he draped the cloak on his friend.
When he entered the pavilion, he was met with solemn faces both from his brothers and from wildlings alike.
Sansa was granted a seat on the high table on Jon's right, a token of respect to a Stark. Edd and Sam took their seats among their brothers. Ser Davos nodded to him from the side and Jon nodded back. Melisandre's face was unreadable when she stood primly on the other side, opposite to where Ser Davos was standing. Jon held her gaze long enough to nod respectfully before turning away. Tormund was seated on the back with wildlings who were permitted to join their meeting. His face looked relieved and angry at the same time. Brienne and Pod stood on the side of the high table, standing guard for the Lady Sansa.
"Brothers," Jon greeted. There was a moment of silence before it broke again.
"You died!" one of his brothers called out and a chorus of agreement broke out. Jon saw Tormund grip his ax just a little bit tighter.
"Aye, I did." Jon agreed and they grew quiet again. "How remains unclear to me. But we have bigger problems than that."
"I agree, Lord Commander." Melisandre spoke up. "The Wall is melting."
"What are you talking about, witch?" one of the brothers hissed.
There were other shouts of denial and disbelief. Melisandre's face is unreadable but Jon can tell she had much more to say so he held his hand up to quiet the men.
"Listen," she said when they fell silent. Then that's when they heard it.
The ice was moving.
It was cracking.
There was a shuffle of uneasiness in the room and looks of panic to those who had been in the battle of Hardhome. Jon's eyes widened and they found Melisandre's.
"Your brothers spilt the blood of Starks on Castle Black, the heart of the Wall. I warned Alliser Thorne of what may come to pass when he killed you." she said.
"We're doomed!" one of the men shouted. Panic was brewing among the men.
"Those traitors must die!" another one shouted. There was another chorus of agreements.
"What about Olly?" Jon spoke up. "He's just a child. Will you kill him too?"
"Jon, he stabbed you in the chest." Edd reminded him.
"I know what he did." Jon said and he let go of it for now. "But if the Wall is melting then the White Walkers are coming for all the realms. We can no longer stay here."
"So, we abandon the Wall?" one of his brother's shouted and many agreed with him.
"NO!" Jon exclaimed firmly. "We do not! But what good will we do if we die here? We cannot hope to defeat this alone. We must call upon the seven kingdoms. We must retreat to gather forces large enough to challenge the White Walkers."
There was a murmur of agreement and Jon held back a sigh of relief.
"Sam, send ravens throughout all the lords in Westeros. Have them know of the situation and make sure they take this as grimly as we do." Jon ordered and Sam nodded.
"I know that it's not my place but may I make another suggestion, Lord Commander." Ser Davos spoke up. Jon nodded and Davos continued. "There are rumors of a queen in Slaver's bay. A Targaryen queen with three dragons."
There was an uneasy silence that fell upon them all. Jon swallowed thickly.
You're not alone in this, Jon, his mother had said.
Davos gave Jon a meaningful look. "You'll be fighting creatures of ice. There's nothing more fitting than to have dragon fire to fight it."
"A Song of Ice and Fire." Melisandre supplied but she gave him a loaded look. Sansa gave him a sideways glance. "Ser Davos is right. There's nothing more fitting than to have a dragon prince fighting the long night with dragons to set flame through the darkness."
Silence reigned the Night's Watch and it was Ser Davos that broke it.
"A dragon prince?" he growled at the Red Woman.
"Only the blood of the dragon can survive a pyre, Ser Davos." she said. "There is no doubt that the Lord Commander is the prince that was promised."
"You speak of Azor Ahai!" Ser Davos retorted. "Didn't you once claim that King Stannis Baratheon, the one true king, was Azor Ahai?!"
"I was mistaken," Melisandre said.
"Mistaken?!" Ser Davos roared, looking about to cross the gap between them and kill her.
"I think that's enough, my lady, Ser Davos." Sansa told them coldly and they fell silent. Jon's fists were curled tightly. He looked angry. He had no intention of revealing his parentage.
"You're a Targaryen?" Edd asked in awe. When Jon turned to look at the men, all he saw was shock and fear. Tormund and the wildlings only looked confused. Sansa looked at him and he met her gaze. In her eyes, he saw that she was with him in whatever he chose to do. But he had no choice now. He must tell the truth before the lie stabs him in the back. Understanding what he was about to do, Sansa nodded minutely and sat up straighter, her eyes beginning to darken as she looked back to the crowd.
Jon sighed. "Yes." he said through gritted teeth. "I am."
Mayhem erupted.
"How can you be a Targaryen? They're all dead!"
"Son of the mad king!"
"You lie!"
"He survived the pyre, we all saw that! How can you still think he's lying?!"
"What does it matter?" Tormund exclaimed and everyone shut up.
"What does it matter?" one of the brothers scoffed. "He's a prince! He's the blood of the dragons! He's a Targar—"
"What. Does. It. Matter?" Tormund asked again, slowly while getting on his feet, brandishing his ax. The men of the Night's Watch shifted uncomfortably, their hands creeping to the hilt of their blades. "You southerners and your fucking kings. How will it matter when we're all dead?"
He snorted humorlessly when no one answered and he sat back down. "So, Jon Snow's a prince." he continued. "Your lot tried to kill your own prince."
There was another uncomfortable silence. Jon nodded minutely to Tormund, glad that it stirred the conversation away from his blood.
"What will you do with the traitors, Lord Commander?" Edd asked, his eyes darkening, remembering the brothers who stabbed their commander.
Jon took a moment before answering. "I will question them first." he said and he stood to leave, away from the prying eyes.