A Kiss of Ice and Fire
Game of Thrones and A Song of Ice and Fire is owned by GRRM foremost. The plot idea is owned by my brain. You want it? Go find a Mountain and squeeze it out.
Seriously tho, don't do dat shit.
Chapter 1
Jon had loaded a cart drawn by a mule with bundles of sticks. He tried not to think of her as he did so. Jon barely felt the cold as he worked. He just felt hollow. He was going to do as she wished, as she had wished back when he'd met her.
He was going to burn her.
If the dead came, she wouldn't be among them. He wouldn't have to cut her open with Longclaw or take a brand to her rotting body. He'd sworn it to himself.
Tormund had asked Jon to burn her.
"You seem troubled, Jon Snow." Jon didn't look to where the voice had come. Stannis's red priestess.
"I suppose I am," Jon replied without looking at her. Jon turned to load another pair of fagots of sticks, bound with twine. As he turned, he saw her. The red woman. Her hair and dress were both the color of blood. A brief spot of sun caught the red hair, and just for a moment Jon saw her hair moving.
Jon ignored the twisting pain in his heart and loaded the pair of fagots onto the cart.
"You are burning something, I take it."
"That seems somewhat obvious, aye," Jon shouted. He instantly regretted raising his voice. He was letting his anger get the better of him. "Forgive me," Jon added. He didn't want to give an explanation.
Jon saw that his brothers in the watch were looking at him as he worked. He thought he saw them talking quietly. Perhaps thinking Jon was more wildling than crow now. No, not crow, Jon thought to himself. He was a brother of the Night's Watch, not a bloody crow.
"I understand, brother Snow," the red woman replied to his apology. "You needn't apologize to me. I'm a stranger to you. You are grieving." Jon raised an eyebrow at the red woman.
"'Brother' Snow?" He asked. "Are you a member of the Night's Watch now?"
"No," Melisandre replied with a grin. "But I do defend the realms of men from what lies in the darkness. I was simply trying to be respectful, Jon Snow. You are a brother, so I thought it would be proper. A gesture of my sympathy, if you will."
"I thank your gesture," Jon Snow replied. "Though not your company."
"I think company is what you need, more than respect or gestures," Melisandre replied quickly, refuting Jon's words.
"I don't want company," Jon declared. He passed Melisandre and stepped inside a room just off the yard of Castle Black. Melisandre just waited, watching over the cart. She ignored the stares of the other watchmen. She was a stranger, and had been for a long time. She was used to staring by now.
The bastard watchmen Snow reemerged bearing a body wrapped in furs. He carried her in his arms like a bride, rather than carrying her over his shoulder like one might carry a dead body. Melisandre noted this with some thought.
Jon saw her but kept silent as he carried Ygritte to the cart. He set her down gently.
"A moment," Melisandre pleaded roughly, and quickly stepped around Jon Snow to place a hand on Ygritte's brow. She had no idea if it would work. Why would it work? A girl from beyond the Wall, with no special powers? Even so, she thought of Beric Dondarrion, resurrected six times by the Lord of Light, acting through Thoros.
"Lord of Light, this child's flame has gone out. Your humble servant begs you to restore her flame, to keep it in your light. Breathe your gifts into her. Watch over her spirit." Melisandre dropped off, almost wincing as she looked down. It was pointless. For a brief instant, she had felt the need to bless the dead girl.
Maybe she'd simply become envious of Thoros for an instant. She was angry, that such a fallen man could have performed the miracle. Melisandre stepped back and touched the metal choker about her neck, running her finger over the smooth faceted surface of the ruby.
"I'm sorry," she declared. "She worshiped the old gods, I should not have done that."
"I doubt she would care," Jon replied bluntly. The black headed swordsman had watched Melisandre's blessing with some slightly disdain, annoyed at the red priestess. Melisandre only nodded, still feeling embarrassed at her own behavior. Jon heard Stannis call for her, and Melisandre walked off towards the man. Jon didn't watch her leave.
Instead, he began his small trek to the god's wood, north of the wall. It seemed the best place, to Jon. Ghost had followed him, and Jon appreciated the direwolf's company. None of Jon's brothers followed him. He was glad of that.
The wind buffeted him as he walked, his hand on the mule's reigns to guide the animal. To Jon's pained dismay the wind only reminded him of Ygritte's breathing. The cold, when he felt it, caused him to think back of sharing Ygritte's warmth, or climbing the Wall with her. With gritted teeth he realized he wanted to draw Longclaw and hack the wall down like a great tree. If it had never been there, things might have been different.
Maybe if this, maybe if that. If he'd killed the warg earlier. If he'd convinced her to run south with him. If he'd just killed the old man, spared him dying of hunger in the winter.
"Night falls, and so my watch begins," Jon whispered to himself, trying to focus by repeating his vows. "From this day, to the end of my days." Take no wife, father no children. No lands, no castles. Jon realized he was finally seeing the true cost of the Night's Watch. He'd seen a part of it when he'd wished to go south again, to aid Robb and his father. Now he was seeing another part that was wholly worse.
When he finally reached the god's wood, Jon didn't feel any better, just resigned. This was his last duty to Ygritte. Jon pulled the cart close to the weirwood and held the mule to a stop. Jon paused by the mule. He'd have to look at her again, one last time. See her features without the warmth of her body flowing through her cheeks, her breathing still.
Jon took a few moments to fortify himself, then turned and moved to the cart to fetch the wood. He unloaded them quickly and built a pyre, ready to be lit with a bucket of pitch Jon had brought to get the fire going. All the while she was lying there, unmoving.
Finally, he tried as gently as he could to move Ygritte from the cart and place her on the bed of wood. Her head rolled as if to lie against his shoulder. Jon felt his eyes filling with tears, but he held them in by sheer force of will.
Ygritte gave a slight moan as she was laid down. Jon didn't think anything of it. Bodies did that, he'd discovered, as their last breaths that had been trapped in the bodies were forced out. He ignored a slightly warm brush of wind on his cheek.
Jon turned away to grab the single lit torch he'd brought. It was burning down, he'd have to move fast or she might not burn properly. Jon turned, torch in hand, held away to not burn himself. Then he froze, stunned.
Ygritte's eyes were open, and looking around, she was sitting up on the bed of branches. Her expression was one of horror, and she looked down at her chest. Her green eyes, not blue, went back up to Jon.
"Jon," she breathed, worried. Jon rushed forward. Ygritte's hands came up out of the furs as Jon closed the distance. Jon embraced her, not caring how she was alive. Ygritte was sobbing into his neck. "Tell me we're alive," she pleaded. "Tell me I'm not one of those things."
"We're alive," Jon breathed. "I don't know how, but we're both alive." Ygritte gave a relieved noise into Jon's neck, then chuckled.
"You know nothin', Jon Snow."
Jon Snow could only smile, relieved and amused.
Sam Tarly was sitting next to Edd, around a tiny fire that barely put out any warmth. They had been discussing Jon and the dead wildling girl. Edd seemed far less enamored and understanding of Jon's, and by extension had begun to prod Sam about Gilly and Smallsam.
"You think Jon broke his vows with that girl, while he was spying on the wildlings?" Edd asked, looking over at Sam. Sam glanced back, slightly perturbed by his friend's question.
"Well," Sam began. "Our vows only prevent us from fathering children and taking wives, don't they." Sam had pointed this out before, to Jon in fact. "Some of the officers visit Mole's Town. As long as Jon didn't marry her or make a child by her, wouldn't that be fine?"
"Lord Snow broke his bloody vows," came Throne's growl of a voice. Sam looked back up to see the pale-haired officer glaring down at the three. That was slightly unfair to think, Sam thought to himself. Thorne didn't seem to look at anyone favorably, perhaps he just glared at everybody.
"When Snow returns, IF he returns, we'll be striking his head off as a traitor and deserter," Thorne insisted. "And Tarly's little wildling will have her ears off and put back on the side of the Wall she belongs to."
"You seem to be excited at that, Ser Thorne," Edd noted. "You never liked Snow to begin with, so why is it up to you?"
"The Lord Commander's gone," Thorne replied, stating the obvious. "Until a new one's selected, I'm the most senior officer at Castle Black. Snow is to be executed, and the wildlings will be sent back the way they came."
"Ranger Thorne." Sam looked above him to see Maester Aemon walking atop one of the many wooden walkways that overlooked the yard. "Brother Edd has the right of it. Snow may be executed, if he is found to be guilty. You are far from an impartial man in this, however. We will have a trial, where you can plead your thoughts, but all of Jon's brothers at Castle Black will have a word on this. In the meantime, would you be so good as to speak with Lord Baratheon, brother Thorne?"
The old Knight stalked off with irritation writ plain across his face. No change there, Samwell noted glumly. The rotund watchmen stood and walked to where he could more comfortably gaze up at the ancient Targaryen Maester.
"Maester Aemon, it isn't true about Gilly, is it?" Samwell asked. "About...her ears?" If Aemon could hear how nervous Samwell was about it, the old man said nothing of it.
"In years gone by, that has been the punishment for attempting to bypass the wall, aye," Aemon replied. "However it was not used a great deal in Lord Commander Mormont's time. Each Lord Commander deals with the wildlings as they see fit."
A horn sounded from atop the wall. One blast. Sam began to walk over to greet the returning rangers. Edd and Grenn stood as well. When the gates rose, Jon was running, pulling the mule and cart behind him.
"Fetch more clothes and hot water!" Jon's orders were shouted, and a few began to follow them, until a second voice rang out.
"Piss on water," came a girl's voice, shouting angrily. "Get me something stronger!"
Everyone within earshot froze.
From atop a the covered bridge, Melisandre was staring, her eyes wide.
Ygritte was breathing hot steam from her mouth, looking around at every frozen in dumbstruck awe. Jon almost growled in exasperation and pulled his thick cloak off to throw it around Ygritte.
"She's a white walker," Edd declared.
"I wouldn't have brought her back if she were," Jon declared.
Edd looked nervously over at Sam, who met his gaze.
"Jon's got a point," Samwell noted, defending his friend. Edd let out a deep sigh that crossed with growl and looked back to Jon.
"You're bringing back dead wildlings now, Lord Crow?" Thorne asked. Melisandre began to step down, walking over to speak to Ygritte. She had to know what lay beyond. This was added to by the amazement that her blessing had worked. Why had it worked?
The thoughts raced through her mind. She must be important. Could a wildling girl be the promised prince? Melisandre doubted it, but she had believed it was Stannis. Could it be Jon Snow? Melisandre was almost running across the snow-covered yard to stand near the returned girl, looking up at her.
"What did you see?" The red woman asked. The wildling looked back down at her, perturbed. "Before you came back, what did you see? What was there, when you died?"
Ygritte's eyes glazed over a moment, trying to remember.
"Ice," Ygritte replied. "And fire. Then...I don't remember." Ygritte looked back to the red priestess to see a horror come across her eyes. Melisandre's mouth had fallen open, with no words to say.
"We'll burn her," Thorne declared. Melisandre looked down, mouth closing.
"No," the priestess declared. "She is not a white walker, she is no servant of the darkness. The Lord of Light breathed his fire back into her, that is all."
"The Lord restored her life?" Stannis was asking this now. Melisandre looked back to him. Everything she had believed had been shaken. Stannis was the Prince, Melisandre had believed it. Could she have been wrong?
"I believe so," Melisandre replied honestly. "I blessed her body, only briefly. I don't even know why I did it. I was drawn to Jon Snow by a feeling, the same feeling overcame me but for a moment, and I prayed over her body."
"And what should be done with her, Priestess?" Stannis was not impressed by Ygritte.
"I'll determine that," Jon Snow declared, his face going hard. "She's no subject of the Iron Throne, and the Night's Watch is neutral. You have no claim to her, even if your lady brought her back."
"Oh the bastard is giving orders now?" Thorne demanded, venom oozing in his voice.
"I'll break any hand that touches me without my permission," Ygritte warned, finally seeking to protect herself any way she could.
"I have warm clothes she could wear," Melisandre offered, trying to defuse the situation.
"Gods," Ygritte growled to herself. "I am gonna be in a silk dress from tra-le-la."
"As a gesture of good will towards Jon Snow," Melisandre added, shrugging to her lord.
"And," Samwell Tarly added. "Maester Aemon and I can examine her and determine if she is a walker or not. Just to be safe."
"Very well," Thorne decided with a grumble. "Lord Stannis, you have your wildling."
Ygritte had found herself wrapped in a red dress, with a fur cloak wrapped about her shoulders. Melisandre had no foot wear of any kind, but Jon had provided a pair of worn boots that at least kept her feet from freezing off. Still, the cold was still there, almost painful, even inside. Melisandre had sat her down on the small cot.
The red woman wore no cloak at all, still pacing about with naught but her dress and light shoes.
"How do you stand being dressed like that in this cold?" Ygritte demanded angrily.
Melisandre walked over.
"I've learned a few tricks," she replied bluntly. "Feel my hand." Ygritte took the proffered hand and almost recoiled, and saw that her own skin had reddened from the heat inside the older woman's body.
"You have a sickness?" Ygritte asked.
"The Lord of Light keeps some of his fire within me," Melisandre explained, going back to pacing, as if her explanation was obvious. The door opened, letting in even colder air. In walked Maester Aemon, hobbling as quickly as he could, with Samwell Tarly behind him, shutting the door behind the pair of men.
"You bloody crows aren't burning me until I'm good and dead," Ygritte warned, rising, her hands fists at her sides. Aemon seemed unperturbed.
"As you wish, my dear," Aemon replied with a grin. "I truthfully don't believe you are a white walker either. I spoke with Jon Snow after the attack here, and examined the bodies myself. I am certain I can determine that you are not a walker, if you'll permit me."
Ygritte nodded. Samwell grimaced, and Ygritte quickly looked to see that Aemon's eyes were milky, clearly blind. "Fine then," Ygritte said aloud. Aemon stepped closer, guided by Samwell with a hand. Aemon held up a hand close to Ygritte's head.
"Would you please breathe upon my hand?" Ygritte exhaled loudly on the hand. Aemon felt the warm breath. "May I hold your hand now, my dear?" the redhead sighed in annoyance and put one of her hands in Aemon's. The old maester moved his other hand and clasped Ygritte's in both of his.
"Warm," Aemon noted aloud. Aemon's hands were cold to Ygritte, but the fire-haired wild girl noted they weren't hard or cruel, somehow. A few fingers moved to the inside of her wrist. "Steady heartbeat," Aemon noted aloud to Sam. "Forgive me, my dear." At this Aemon pinched with two fingers, and Ygritte's hand recoiled a bit by instinct.
"Very good, my dear," Aemon declared. Then he followed it up with a question. "May I see the wound that ended your life?" Ygritte's mouth fell open. Melisandre met Ygritte's gaze, but said nothing, still pacing uncomfortably.
"If you have to," Ygritte decided. She took Aemon's single hand and placed it where the arrow had emerged. Aemon's other hand moved and slipped beneath the neckline of Ygritte's dress. Aemon stepped closer as the other held her arm gently but firmly as an old man could. The cold hand still made Ygritte gasp slightly from the touch on her skin.
"The wound is not closed," Aemon noted aloud. "There is no blood, however. You may feel discomfort, try not to move." Aemon's pinky finger actually went into the meat of Ygritte's chest where the arrow had come out. Ygritte actually growled, the wound felt tender being prodded at. "You should be dead," Aemon declared. "The wound is not healed, though the texture inside feels much like a burn wound. Yet you are breathing with no difficulty, and your heart is strong."
"But," Samwell asked, his confusion writ plain. "How is that possible, Maester?"
"I have no idea, my boy. I have studied many of the higher mysteries, but I have no inkling of what could have revived this girl. The red woman's lord is a great healer, it seems." Aemon's head angled off to Melisandre. "Do pass along my compliments, Lady Melisandre."
"I am sure he will appreciate them, Maester Aemon," Melisandre replied out of politeness.
So this kinda just comes from a desire to see more Jon x Ygritte fanfics out there, but I thought it was a more interesting premise to bring her back via Melisandre than for Olly to miss or something. It was kind of an interesting idea as well that Ygritte's wounds are still there and are absolutely fatal, but Ygritte remains alive. Somewhat taken from Beric and his scars and missing eye. He's not regenerating, at least not more than what the Lord deems necessary to function.
The title is a little weird, but it is inspired by the mention of redheads being "Kissed by Fire." And also Ice because...It's a song of ice and fire. Does raise a thought that perhaps others will wind up being kissed to life by ice instead of fire? No not really gonna happen, but I hope Ygritte will lead to a few changes in the outcome of the Game of Thrones.
Next chapter, Jon tells Tormund that Ygritte's back, and tensions continue to rise. How will Stannis react to thinking he might not be God's chosen? How will Olly react to his father's killer being alive? Please leave a review!