A/N: Longclaw: Hey all. We're getting to the point we've all been waiting for.
BRuh4: Hey, here's a chapter. It's solid. Hope you like it.
It's pretty much what you want. Also what you probably expected.
Enjoy.
Chapter 32: From Darkness, Light
"The Red Witch wants to do what?"
Face ashen, conflict filled Daenerys' eyes. "She claims she can bring Jon back from the dead." It was as if her life had been uprooted yet again.
Peering at her as if she sprouted dragon wings, Tyrion shook his head. "First grumpkins and snarks, now…" He looked incredulous. "You know that sounds outlandish, right?"
"Of course I do," Dany snapped, but her expression wasn't reassuring. "Everything that happened is outlandish…"
"Your Grace, please," Tyrion sighed.
"I know it sounds mad. I do." Gods, first falling for Jon Stark, then Daario betraying her, and now seriously considering using a witch… If a year ago someone would have told her this story, Dany would have laughed in their face.
"Then why are you considering it?"
She closed her eyes. "You know why."
To say that her advisers disapproved of this was an understatement. "Your Grace, ignore those that talk of prophecies and witchcraft," Barristan pleaded, hand ready on the jolt of his sword to cut down the red witch at her command.
It did not escape Dany's notice. "Still your blade, enough blood has been shed." Much of it was on her dress. She would have said it focused her, while others would suppose it drove her mad.
Barristan was of the latter. "I saw foolish prophecy destroy your brother. Don't let it destroy you." Rhaegar was so obsessed with the 'promised prince,' it drew him to abandoning his family and led his House to ruin. "I can't watch you do this."
"I have known many a red priest, your Grace," Varys interjected. "Their charisma is only eclipsed by their brutality and skill to deceive."
"Please don't do this, my Queen," Missandei begged. Of all present, she knew the pain and suffering that Daenerys still endured from the loss of her babe. To let her be taken advantage in a state of desolation yet again was unconscionable to the freedwoman. "Don't hurt yourself on the altar of false hope."
"You see, none of us wish…"
"Enough!" Tyrion, and all the others, were silenced as the Mother of Dragons roared. "I understand your concerns, councillors," she said in a softer but no less firm tone. Gods, I do understand. The sight of her child, of Rhaego - even the tiniest glimpse that Jorah had mercifully cut short - mutilated in the most vile of deformities was the stuff of nightmares to this day for Daenerys. How she wished to take every witch and cast them into the fires of her dragons…
But yet… Lips curled into a scowl, she approached the Red Woman. "Your fellow priests stand by me. Support me in my quests from the Bay of Dragons to here. Tell me, why do you oppose me - and why should I trust you if you do oppose me?"
Silent as the Queen's councilors begged Daenerys Targaryen to take her head, Melisandre met the Valyrian beauty's violet eyes. "They saw what they saw in the flames, and I cannot speak for them. I saw what I saw in the flames their Lord summoned for me. A battle in the snow, fought by a man wielding a sword in the darkness - a sword bathed in light. The Promised Prince, born of salt and smoke…"
"This was the same prophecy that led Rhaegar to his demise." Barristan wasted no time in drawing his blade. "Allow me to execute this woman for murder and witchcraft…"
"Put that blade away before you hurt someone," Daenerys hissed in response. "I will not ask again, Lord Hand." Tension filled the room before Barristan complied again. "Your loyalty to my late brother is admirable, Ser Barristan, but he is dead and I am not him. Do not confuse hindsight for him with foresight for me."
A sigh. "It won't happen again, your Grace."
"See that it doesn't." Daenerys shifted her gaze to the Master of Whisperers. "Lord Varys, has this woman spoken of the Promised Prince before?"
"Birds have sung of many a tale such as that, yes. From the fields of Storm's End to Renly Baratheon the false king, to before the Wildlings at Castle Black, Melisandre the Red Priestess has proclaimed Stannis Baratheon as the Promised Prince… using much the same words as before." His eyebrow rose. "I recall someone indicating that Renly Baratheon made a joke about Lord Stannis being a ham."
The Red Woman's expression didn't change. "I believe he did, Lord Varys… he was never a very respectful person." Melisandre turned back to Daenerys. I cannot claim to see all of the expanses of time… that power only belongs to one mortal being at a time. What I do claim is that I can see the glimpses in time the Lord of Light sends me - one of those is the great battle in the snow."
"Which you say Stannis will fight." She frowned. "I must say, my Lord Hand's offer looks more and more tempting by the second."
"You misunderstand me, the man I see in the snow is Jon Stark." Melisandre could almost see Davos staring at her - half-surprised and half-angry. It was one thing to suspect the betrayal of one's King. It was another to hear it explicitly. The mind had a terrific ability to wishfully think. "I was wrong about it being Stannis. My identification of Lord Stark is completely certain."
Daenerys walked only a few paces before her, eyes narrow. "So you say." A woman that claimed different sides and spun inconsistent tales was not to be trusted in Daenerys' opinion. But unlike mummers and imposters, this woman claimed she could back up her claims with the most powerful of magic. "You've told me you could give me another chance… and to see the body of Lord Stark. Explain yourself."
"I know of a ritual," Melisandre began. For the first time, her voice was somewhat unsteady. "Performed under the right set of circumstances and with the will of the Lord of Light, this ritual brings a person back to life."
"You know this ritual?" Daenerys asked. "You can perform it?"
"Better question, does it actually work?" Tyrion added.
She glared at the Imp. "I have seen it happen."
Tyrion's brow rose. "Oh? Haven't done it yourself? Alright… when did you see it?"
Going quiet yet again, Melisandre's bravado and determination seemed to deflate a bit. Davos had never seen her lose a bit of confidence in her life - even after Stannis lost at the Blackwater - but he supposed this set of circumstances would tax a person. Both she and he were the closest to death than at any other point. "I have seen the aftereffects. Of a man with the scars of wounds supposed to be fatal. Of a fellow priest that announced to me his miracles."
"Which. Priest?" Barristan was not playing games.
Her voice was almost a whisper. "Thoros of Myr."
Tyrion stifled a laugh, "Thoros of Myr? You mean to tell me that drunkard brought someone back to life? Are you sure?"
"I feel that you would be the last person to hold a person's fondness for cups against him, Lord Tyrion," Melisandre replied, earning a frown from the Imp. "Regardless, this speaks to the ritual's effectiveness. Even a man such as Thoros can do it. He's brought a man back seven times."
"I find that hard to believe, Lady Melisandre."
"Whether you believe it or not is irrelevant. It's true. The ritual works and I can perform it," Melisandre said, calmly. Then she looked to Dany, "I will bring him back to you."
But no one was convinced by this. Least of all Barristan. "I've known Thoros of Myr, your Grace. While in battle he could be… useful, I would rather trust a sea slug than him in terms of his effectiveness on religious matters." He sent a glare in the direction of the witch before continuing. "She peddles the same false promises and cryptic prophecy that corrupted your brother's mind and drove him to ruin upon the battlefield. Allow me to rid you of this creature so that you don't suffer the same fate."
"Queen Daenerys, please…"
Her attention, having drifted inward, was suddenly shifted to the quiet prisoner. "Lord Davos," she asked with a hint of darkness. "You are the Hand to Stannis Baratheon, so keep in mind that every part of my instincts suggest I should at very least lock you in the dungeons next to Daario Naharis. Tread carefully."
Gulping, Davos nevertheless persisted. He had been in sticky situations before and knew how to be brave. "I realize that this is… let me be blunt, mad, but if you've seen the things I've seen. The miracles this woman has done…" It still shocked him. "She summoned visions, manipulated the weather… Seven Hells, I've seen her birth a demon into the world as one would a baby…"
"Wait…" Tyrion's eyes widened. "There were rumors that Renly Baratheon was killed by his brother through blood magic rather than Brienne of Tarth. You're saying…"
"Aye." Davos didn't want to admit it, but his and Melisandre's - and Jon's - lives were on the line. "That happened."
Varys pursed his lips. "That would make Stannis a kinslayer." Oh, he and his birds could use this.
Wincing, Davos bullied past it. Talking to Daenerys. "You've seen amazing things too. Birthed dragons by walking into the flames if the legends are to be believed. Others will have you deny this part of yourself, the magic. Well, fuck em." He approached her, only for his guards to block his path. "Jon Stark's life is on the line, so fuck em all!"
"Step back, Lord Davos," Barristan barked, Stannis' Hand getting far too close to the Queen for his liking.
It didn't take a mind reader for the Onion Knight to understand the unease of his captors. "Yes, Queen Daenerys, I am the Hand to King Stannis. I'm proud to serve at his side, and it is every bit your right to look upon me as you would to Tywin Lannister or Qyburn the False Maester." Davos spoke earnestly - frankly, he had no use for the elaborate games of deception those around him delighted in. "I am your enemy and you are mine, and with that I am comfortable. But we have a common cause at this moment, and that is making sure Jon Stark is among the living."
Enemy or not, Daenerys rather liked this man. Respected him to a length not seen in any enemy since… Jon… "Your candor is refreshing, Lord Davos, but why do you wish Jon to live?" She leaned to him, getting in his face. Trying to unsettle him. "If I told you that he would head to the North or side with me upon Lady Melisandre reviving him, would you still hold common cause with me."
Only seeing one of the dragons themselves would unsettle him further, but Davos refuses to heel. "I would."
This was surprising. "And why do you suspect Jon Stark to be such a man that you'd lobby the avowed foe of your King to save him?"
He formulated his answer carefully. "Because Jon Stark is a good man. He didn't deserve what happened to him even before now, and while that shit is part of this shit world if there's something I could do to save a genuinely honorable man I'd damn well do it. And I think you agree with me."
After what seemed to be an interminable length of time, Daenerys quirked her head to the side. "You truly believe that, don't you?" She eyed him carefully - Valyrian highborn to the son of a crabber. "I sense little deception in your voice."
"No deception. I've worn my liking of Jon Stark since he was merely Jon Snow, the bastard brother of the Night's Watch who put an arrow through the King Beyond the Wall's heart in order to spare him the pain of burning."
Inwardly, Dany was surprised. I didn't know he did that… Of course, he would do something that noble. It only made her heart ache greater, having lost such a good man. Without the at times irritating distraction his capture created, perhaps she would have become the power-obsessed monster that Daario sought to steer her back into. As such, she gave Davos the tiniest of smiles. "If only we met under different circumstances, Lord Davos." Unrepentant enemy though he was, he held a high opinion of Jon all the same. "I would have had great use for you as an ally."
Nodding his head, Davos smiled back. "Frankly, it would have been nice having the dragons behind me instead of wanting to burn me alive." He eyed Barristan, Tyrion, Varys, and Missandei. "However many of your small council wishes for me to be in that position… because I know Stannis would reciprocate such if Barristan were captured." He didn't need to be dishonest of the kind of man Stannis was. He followed him missing the top half of his left set of fingers, after all.
A raised hand silencing the coming assault of arguments from her council, Daenerys turned to the one person she trusted but had not spoken yet. "Grey Worm. Would you care to tell me your thoughts on the matter?"
Silent and at attention the entire time, Grey Worm had listened to everything around him. "I am a soldier, my Queen. My opinion…"
"...Is very valuable to me as my trusted commander. Never to betray me." The Unsullied seemed to smile at the praise, though no one really could tell. "Please."
His forehead wrinkled, hard in thought. "Queen Daenerys came to Astapor with one ship, threescore men, and three dragons. She leave with the same plus all Unsullied, Astapor free behind her. As a result, all slaves free." He clasped his chest in loyalty to the Mother of Dragons. "Slaves try for freedom centuries upon centuries, yet dream impossible. You made dreams possible when no one else could. Therefore, if you wish Jon Stark to live, you will make happen."
"Turgon nudho…" Missandei murmured, in disbelief he would tacitly support the efforts of the Red Priests… some of the greatest players in the slave trade of Essos.
"You all are dismissed. I require time to think." She looked at the guards. "Keep them under watch in my solar. They are my guests until I say otherwise." Grey Worm nodded and led them away, Barristan and Tyrion offering Daenerys grim stares before following them.
"Come on, Your Grace," Missandei said, quietly. "Let's get you some fresh clothes."
She looked over her blood-stained dress, soaked in Jon's dried blood. Truly not wanting to take it off, the practicality of it all made it impossible. "Alright" Reaching out to clasp her translator's hand, Daenerys let Missandei escort her towards her chambers. Barely able to keep it together as she tried to reconcile her hope for the future with the pain of the past.
The future Maester's life mostly consisted of taking care of the much older Maester. Aside from that, reading. Whatever book Sam could get his hands on. His departure from the Citadel did allow him to take a few articles he'd otherwise never obtain. Unfortunately, he'd read all of them over and over again with nothing worth remembering. Well, nothing about what he wanted to read. The Long Night. Specifically, the Night King. How to defeat him.
He and Jon were one of few people not confined to Castle Black that had actually seen them. The dead. More than likely, they'd have some trouble getting anyone to believe what they had seen north of the Wall. So some sort of evidence would be helpful. But out of the five or so books he 'borrowed' he'd found no such information. Just a couple books about geography, history of the North, and some dumb old Maester's diary. He'd read through the diary a few different times. The man wrote down everything he ever did. Which might have been useful if Sam was interested in how to be a smarmy bigot. He'd hoped his time with the other Maesters at the Citadel might've been enlightening. Instead, it was traveling further into the dark. Stuck in their ways, with no intention of changing.
As a result, he decided to visit the library in Dragonstone. Perhaps there might be something useful there. Aemon went with him, of course. "You'll be able to get through more with me, dear Samwell." Sam raised an eyebrow… had they discovered a way for the blind to read. "You don't speak High Valyrian do you?"
He blinked. "Ummm… no…"
"Well, then you'd need me to translate." Sam reddened from embarrassment. How had he not figured that out?
Hours later, stacks and stacks of the leather-bound volumes - many frayed by moths and natural wear and tear - sat in front of them. A lot was in fact written in Valyrian, this being Dragonstone after all. It may have been years since Aemon spoke the language but his skills were top-notch, translating it freely for Sam and even giving him some pointers. And yet nothing about the Long Night was found beyond what he already knew… aside from one intriguing tidbit.
Sam's eyes scanned over the faded paper. Searching desperately for the words he needed. Many of the books he had read spoke of a notebook carried by one Lord Commander Hoare. One that led the Night's Watch through the days of the Conquest, resisting the urge to journey south to assist his brother Black Harren to stick to his vows - extinguishing his line but proving a mighty example of subsequent brothers of the Watch. Apart from that, he was supposedly unremarkable, but half a dozen tomes of septons, sorcerers, and maesters referred to a diary of his. Remarking many times of what the Lord Commander wrote about as to either support or debunk their feelings of magic.
Wiping sweat from his brow, he hoped the notes would reveal the secrets of how the Night King was defeated thousands of years ago. Clearly, that information would be greatly useful, and yet all there was were these secondary accounts of someone who read the original documents, not the actual writings of the Lord Commander herself. Carefully holding it close to him, even writing it in at every opportunity. Sam reckoned not everyone could read and write at that time. So the notion that someone had seen something worth recording was worth note. He needed to find the diary. Or at least find out what had been written in it.
"Maester Aemon?"
"Yes, Samwell?" Aemon had dozed off slightly but was a light sleeper in his old age. "Did you need my advice again?"
"Tell me, do Lord Commanders keep diaries?"
Aemon chuckled. "Aye, they do. It's customary, in order to detail the history of the Watch. Why?"
"Well…" Sam shrugged. "There's a lot of mentions to a diary written by Lord Commander Hoare at the time of the Conquest, but no copy of the diary." He gestured to their stacks of books. "It's the only thing I've found that may contain information we don't already know. Maybe the Walkers have been awake longer than we thought."
Stroking his chin, Aemon's jaw expanded as he thought. "There are two copies of these diaries, usually. One official one, and the other is transcribed by the Maester to send to the Citadel for the official histories. I've transcribed eight of them in my life."
"I didn't see any in either Castle Black or the Citadel."
"At Castle Black, I am entrusted with keeping them," he chuckled, smiling sheepishly in a toothless grin. "The other copies… I think the Archmaesters keep them under lock and key along with the other restricted tomes."
"Perhaps I can write to Edd and have the original sent to Winterfell." There wasn't a lot of written history of those times and that diary could contain information vital to our survival against the Night King.
Just then the doors to the library opened, the fur-clad figures of Dothraki bloodriders announcing the arrival of Queen Daenerys. Sam quickly rose, "Your Grace."
"Your Grace," Aemon repeated, not standing though he likely had the privilege not to. "Looking for me?"
"Yes," she replied, voice grim - killing the old maester's smile from the tone. For Sam, even the impeccable black dress of the finest wool and silk didn't hide her haggard appearance. Dark circles under her eyes, hastily brushed hair and pale skin. Something bad had clearly happened… "Jon is dead."
"What you'd say?" Sam frowned, taken off guard. He set his book aside.
Dany sighed, clearing her throat as quietly as possible. "Last night, Jon died."
Sam's face slowly turned into total disbelief. Yet when he noticed her seriousness. His head shook back and forth, "Jon? No, no. How could… What?"
Seeing Jon's friend grieve was crushing her - challenging Dany's resolve. Finding her great-uncle just silent, unable to speak or move, it nearly shattered her.
Barely able to stand, Sam leaned against his chair. Breathing rapidly and trying to fight tears. "How did he die?"
"A traitor in my ranks named Daario Naharis…"
"Wait, the sellsword that brought us here?" Suddenly a wave of anger seemed to grip Sam. "You... he followed you! You had Jon killed!"
Dany recoiled. "No, I…"
"Monster! You're a monster!" He moved forward, triggering the Dothraki to scramble to protect their Khaleesi…
"Samwell, stop!"
He did, eyes widening. Aemon never yelled. "She killed…"
"No, she did not." Finally rising, pushing himself out of his chair. "You may not know her, but I do. I can tell you she is not capable of committing such a tragedy. Truly, it is a tragedy. I loved that boy. But don't stand here and overreact over something you know nothing about. You weren't there."
Sam's mouth shut, looking at Aemon. He backed up and turned from everyone. Clearly, not able to compose himself at that moment.
"It… It was murder," Dany finally said. "Daario Naharis killed him. The cowardly man acted out of sheer jealousy. He will be punished greatly."
Turning back around, Sam's eyes were puffy. It might've been customary to bow or ask to leave but he didn't care. His feet carried past Dany and out the door. The Dothraki letting him with a few chuckles, not seeing the portly acolyte as much of a threat. "Don't worry about him," Aemon said. "It's hard. Jon is... was his best friend."
Sighing, Daenerys helped Aemon back into his chair. Then, took her own close to him. "Uncle, I just feel lost now."
"Lost? How could you ever feel lost? Have you forgotten about your destiny?"
"Seems I've been distracted from that as of late." One of the reasons Daario killed Jon…
"I see," Aemon chuckled. "Young love. I'm so sorry, child. I can't imagine what this must be like for you."
"It's not new, I've known this feeling before. But I didn't think I'd experience it again. Hoped I wouldn't."
"Seems you didn't have a choice."
She looked up at him, "What if I did?"
"Oh, my dear, don't think you had anything to do with this."
"I can't deny it. I have a hand in it. Daario was one of my men. I had control over him. Instead of tightening my grip, he was set loose. Only because I found him repulsive," Dany said. "Out of sight seemed better. Unfortunately, no one was watching him. I'm furious at how easy it must have been for him. I let it happen, Uncle."
"Sounds like you had a mad man acting on his own tendencies. This Daario, he always hated Jon?"
"From the very beginning, yes, though it's complicated in a way. He always favored a more… uncompromising tack with prisoners carried over from my experiences in Meereen." The arguments, seven hells the arguments, between him and Mossador on one side and Barristan on the other shook the Great Pyramid. Looking back on it, he had been right about that one Harpy, which was why she gave him more leniency now. Appears I still have much to learn. "With Jon, things became different, more personal. I think deep down Daario became jealous after I sent him out of my sight, clothing such selfishness in some sort of righteousness. He must've known I started visiting Jon."
Nodding, her uncle knew such pettiness and ego-driven loyalty from his younger years. Brynden Rivers had been dismissed to the Wall for something similar, though he had better reasons. "He acted on his own," Aemon pointed out. "Had nothing to do with you."
"It did. Daario killed Jon because he thought it would get him back in my good graces. Would transform me into some Maegor the Cruel that so dazzled him in Slaver's Bay." She looked grim. "It wasn't the first time he did this." Dany spent a few minutes recounting the killed sellsword commanders in Yunkai.
He took it in without judgment. "For a ruler, there will always be those that seek out their own personal gain with loyalty. Some flatter, some perform favors, and some make favors… see Tywin Lannister's butchery of your goodsister, niece, and… nephew." His voice caught a bit. Never having met them, Aemon still grieved for the death of his family. He would grieve for Jon too, but alone. Not to leave Dany alone and devoid of comfort. "The most determined will act proactively to push a ruler in a given decision or not, motivations immaterial."
"...And in my naivete I let Daario do it to Jon." She let her head fall into her hands. "Gods… everything is lost. Everything…" She stopped, Melisandre's promises still in her mind.
Aemon picked up on it. "You don't think all is lost. Why?"
She sighed. "A Red Witch. She and Stannis' Hand infiltrated the keep to try and rescue Jon from the dungeons. Upon capture, she claims that he knows a ritual that can bring him back to life."
Aemon was quiet for a few moments before speaking to her again. "The ink is dry, but perhaps it can be rewritten."
Dany met her uncle's eyes, "Perhaps. But can I trust the Red Witch?"
"I don't know, my child. Yet, ask yourself this. Is it worth the risk?" Aemon asked her, raising his eyebrows. "What's the worst that could happen? He's already passed."
"I know that, Uncle. I'm just worried."
"About what? My child, I know nothing of magic. Aside from its existence, given the presence of you and your dragons. But… If there's a chance Jon can return, I believe it's worth the risk. Do you?"
"All I know is the situation got worse the last time I trusted a witch to help me," she said, then held up two fingers. "Twice. I was betrayed twice by an evil witch."
"Is this the very same witch?"
"Well… no."
"Do you mistrust all witches because one wronged you?"
"No. There were a few red priestesses who helped my cause in Meereen."
"Ah… Red Priestess. Is this not also a Red Priestess offering help now?"
"It is."
"Hmm… the red priests of R'hllor say they can perform miracles. I have heard of these but never saw them, though my brother consulted with many before he embarked on his fateful experiment at Summerhall." Another tragedy in the history of House Targaryen. Taking in Dany's anguish, he understood. "You worry about the witch. About what happened to your child and the Dothraki Khal?"
"Yes," her voice was soft, barely a whisper. "It doesn't matter now, Uncle. Jon is dead. I've learned that you cannot manipulate mortality. It didn't end well with Drogo."
Aemon offered her a smile, "Child, I'm afraid I don't understand your hesitancy. I'm a blind man, and I know how you feel about Jon. I don't need eyes to see that. You wish for his return. Now, it appears that it may be possible. And… you hesitate? Why? Because once before a witch damaged another person you cared for?"
Dany bit her lip. "I lost my child, uncle. My husband was turned into a shell of himself, unable to speak or move… what if in saving Jon, she destroys everything special about him?"
And Aemon saw it as clear as day. "You love him, don't you?" He felt happiness at her nod. "Us Targaryens, we fall for the most difficult. Daemon for Rhaenyra, Daemon Blackfyre for his half-sister, my namesake for his sister the Queen… my nephew for his woods witch. It does not shock me that you fell for him." He held his hand out for her to take, which she did. "He's already gone, so all this priestess can do is help him. The past is written - there's nothing you can do about it. While the future, hmm… It's in your hands."
If I look back, I am lost… The temptation was great to fall into the bitterness of the past - it was likely what caused her father to go mad, as it did drive the cruelty of Robert Baratheon and her own brother. I know I will never leave the past if Jon remains dead. There would be marriages, adopted children of Targaryen blood to some degree in the past, but Daenerys knew there would never be another Jon Stark. It was fresh, but real.
"In my hands." A dragon never finished a fight, not until it quit. "Thank you, uncle."
He patted her knee once more. "I shall dine with you and Jon tomorrow." Foolishly optimistic, perhaps, but Dany was grateful for it all the same.
Jon's corpse rested on a table in the middle of the room. The only light was from the fire in a brazier by Jon. His skin had darkened to white - gone was the blood that warmed his flesh. The image very nearly brought Daenerys to collapse. She had seen so much death in her life, but somehow this was the most painful.
Because I love him. It did sound mad, but she knew it to be true. The one man that hadn't cowered before her and her dragons… or tried to dominate her for their purposes.
As such, what was being set up only brought back the worst of memories. A horse killed and drained of blood, incantations in languages foreign to her ears brought dark magic into the world. The magic that killed her only child. "I know it may seem... unseemly, your Grace," she heard Davos Seaworth tell her. "But I've seen her work miracles."
She looked up at him, the Hand to her enemy - much like Jon had been. That was why Dany didn't hate him on site. "Why do you care, Lord Seaworth?"
His brows wrinkled in thought. "Cause Jon Stark is the one person I know who hasn't let this shit corrupt him. The world is much smaller without him in it."
"Yes, it is." A shit world that she had always lived through - only Jon promised something better. "Are you ready for this, Lady Melisandre?"
While her advisors stood around, Missandei hovering near Grey Worm while Tyrion, Barristan, and Varys passed a flask between them, the Red Witch was hard at work. "Everything is settled. All it needs is your approval."
"The last time I trusted a witch to help me, I became cursed. Do you understand what I'll do if you provide me a similar result?" Dany warned the woman. "You worship fire? Are you fireproof? You get the same fate the first witch received."
Melisandre showed no reaction. "Then I have an incentive not to betray you. The other... she had nothing to lose. I do, or at least the cause I fight for does."
Daenerys refused to show any weakness, even at the witch's keen understanding of her past. "I hope your cause is mighty enough to bring him back."
"My Lord is. It's why I'm here."
"You do this for me, perhaps I forget you broke into my castle."
Davos cleared his throat, drawing attention to him. He smiled, "I've seen this one." His good hand pointed a finger at Melisandre. "Do a great many things. Things most men wouldn't believe. I don't even know what I saw at times. Having seen it all, bringing Jon doesn't seem impossible to me."
Sighing, Dany shot the older smuggler a glance. "For your sake, I hope you're right."
Melisandre approached Jon on the table, only a woolen cloth to contain his modesty. His chest sported the scars he'd already obtained. But two more joined them, still fresh, but with dried blood. Nearby, there was a basin in which Melisandre soaked a rag. She rug it out before wiping down Jon's bloody chest. The crimson stuck to Jon like a second skin, it took some doing to remove it. It smeared over the first wipe, needing two or more get it all off. Once the chest was clean, carefully, Melisandre rolled Jon over to wash the wound on his back.
Dany lingered near the door, but she wanted to get closer. Like there was something she could do. Her eyes watched Melisandre work closely, even though she knew nothing of what was happening.
Once Jon was sufficiently clean, Melisandre retrieved a pair of shears from her sleeve. She began to recite a prayer in High Valyrian. Dany understood it clearly enough.
"We ask the Lord to shine his light, and lead a soul out of the darkness."
Melisandre clipped several locks of Jon's hair, tossed them in the fire. Of this Varys seemed to squirm in discomfort… hells, Dany did as well. Then hair from Jon's beard, also into the fire. She brought a flagon of water from a separate table nearby, not before setting the water basin below Jon's head. As she poured the water through Jon's hair, she said more words in High Valyrian. She raked her fingers through the loose hairs, making sure it was dried as much as possible.
"We beg the Lord to share his fire, and light a candle that has gone out."
Jon's body was unmoving, nothing had changed. The Red Woman moved to stand over him. Hands outstretched across Jon's body. Then coming to lay her palms over Jon's wounds. She spoke more words from the prayer again.
"From darkness, light. From ashes, fire. From death, life."
It appeared the Red Woman had said all the words she needed to. Her hand still hovered over Jon's chest. Daenerys wasn't sure what to expect. Really she wanted Jon to spring back into life. But that didn't immediately happen. Melisandre shook her head slightly and kept repeating the words.
"From darkness, light. From ashes, fire. From death, life."
The same from before, but with more emphasis, Melisandre closed her eyes, and raised her voice like that would help. Her hands came off Jon, only to be pressed down harder.
"From darkness, light. From ashes, fire. From death, life."
Despite her best efforts, it didn't work. Jon didn't come back.
"Well?" Daenerys said after such a long pause. "What happened? How long will this take to work?" She looked at the grim face of Melisandre… the resulting sigh out of Ser Davos… and her heart started to thump out of its chest. As if in the deepest of pain. "No… that can't be it… it just can't…" Daenerys found herself grasping for whatever straws she could find.
Melisandre didn't respond. Just kept saying the words, over, over, and over again. Her Lord had sent her here for a reason. To bring Jon Stark back to life. Now… it didn't work? She didn't understand why it wasn't working. Supposedly, the person was to come right back as Thoros said. Perhaps she didn't have enough power.
"I am sorry," she said, voice hauntingly… empty. "I was certain. More certain than anything before…"
All in the room stared on, waiting for something to happen. Tyrion and Varys shared a look, they didn't know what to think. Missandei wandered closer to Dany in case she needed support. For she was the only one who truly understood what the Queen was going through.
Barristan growled, hand on the hilt of his blade. "I should cut this witch down where she stands."
"Burn her as I suggested," Varys added, puffy cheeks flaring in an uncharacteristic ire.
"Perhaps it'll just take some time," Davos mused, trying as he did for years by Stannis' side - be the one that provided hope and positivity to the side of a dour, joyless Lord and King. "After all, this ritual was given to her secondhand by a rather drunk…"
"I'll stay with him. Leave us."
All eyes turned to the Queen. Her slender form leaning against the table, head bent forward as if staring at Jon Stark's eyes. A light tremor against the tiny sliver of shoulder exposed by the still bloodstained dress. "Your Grace?" Tyrion began, only to be cut off.
"I gave an order. Leave us." Wordlessly, her advisers began to shuffle out. The bloodriders muscled away Davos and Melisandre, the witch shooting her a look of apology and resignation before she disappeared into the antechamber. Missandei tried to comfort her, but only a light touch was accepted, Daenerys not even looking up. With a sigh, she was the last one out.
Everyone had gone. Everyone but her - Dany pulled over a chair with nary a sound and sat by his side. The Queen said she'd stay, for better or for worse. She had meant it. A dainty finger moved on its own accord, gently brushing the still soft curls that matted his forehead. Though clean of all the blood, Jon Stark looked lifeless. Nothing close to the stubborn, northern fool that had so vexed her for moons.
The thought brought a smile to her face. Masking the hurt. "I wish there was something more I could do," she inhaled a breath, holding it in. She wished she could fill his lungs with it, instead of her own. "I know it was my fault, Jon. All of this."
His corpse said nothing, as unresponsive as Drogo had been. But he suffered in his state, while Jon Stark would never suffer anything again.
"My brother… he often spoke of the Iron Throne," she whispered softly as if soothing a tired child to sleep. Still stroking his forehead. "Of how he would take it as our birthright - I hated my brother by the end, but that way of thinking managed to seep into me regardless. I took up my family's birthright to honor them, but I seemed like I lost myself on the way." Dany's warm palm cupped his cold cheek. Fire and Ice. "That is my fault, and I'm truly sorry, Jon."
Each moment that passed, Daenerys was on edge. Praying that each second would bring him to the land of the living, that Jon would embrace her as a lover would, banishing the pain. Her heart aching at each second in which it didn't happen. "Gods… I hated you when this all started. You were the most stubborn bastard I ever knew, and I've known my share." It was all mad - a different sort of madness than her father, but mad nonetheless. "Eventually, I grew used to you. Despite your best efforts otherwise."
She chuckled, holding back hot tears. "Dragons don't choose the easiest mates. We seek out the fight, the fire, the passion if you will." Dany's thumb brushed a stray strand of hair behind his ear. An intimate if pointless act. "I suppose I don't understand it even now, but I do love you. And I think as a wolf, you understand it too. We're tough bloodlines. Never enduring the softness or gluttony that a lion or a rose loves. We care not for such things. I didn't even think love existed. Yet, here I am."
Biting her lip, willing herself not to break down, Daenerys leaned down as she had when his body was still warm and his blood was still fresh. She kissed him on his lifeless lips. Cold, idle, and desperate wish gnawing at her - imagining what it would have been like warm and sweet. As had almost happened in the cave. As she abandoned him in his quarters.
"I've lost all rights to make demands of you, Jon Stark, but please come back to me. To all that love you." Refusing to drawback, Dany stared at his closed lids. "This pain is one I deserve, but not you."
Nothing. His face just as still as when she held him the last time.
Daenerys cradled it in her arms all the same. "I love you, Jon Stark. The ink is dry, but it can be rewritten. Just come back." The white wolf, wounded in the snow. Dany realized that she had been dreaming of this very moment, and it threatened to shatter her. "Please come back."
The length of time she stood there, holding him in the intimacy she had so denied herself the night before, for all her power the Dragon Queen couldn't decipher it. Hours seemed to pass before the slender form of Missandei arrived. Grimacing in grief and concern. "My Queen, I think it's time for you to sleep."
"No…" she protested weakly. "He hasn't woken yet." Dany pulled back to see Jon's face, still lifeless.
He obviously wouldn't, but the former slave wasn't about to stab deeper in Dany's heart. So she merely eased the Queen up. Glad when there was no resistance. "We'll come back in the morning, see if anything changed." A nod from Daenerys followed as the two of them left the chamber. Door shutting behind them.
"Shall I have them put in the cells, your Grace?" Barristan asked, motioning with his hand towards Melisandre and Davos.
The Onion Knight rubbed his bald scalp. "I don't understand this. It should've worked… he shouldn't…"
Meeting eyes with the Dragon Queen, in them found not hate but agreement. "He shouldn't have died."
Suddenly, the walls of the keep shook slightly as a whoosh thundered outside. Dany caught a shade of darkened green flash by the window. Rhaegal… His roars piercing the din, she resolved to go spend some time with her dragons. Perhaps they'd break her out of her malaise… if for a little while. The roars didn't end though. Seconds later Drogon flew by, Viserion close behind.
Only there was another sound. One far closer that hit her as if two blades clashing in battle. "Did you hear that?" she asked, wide-eyed.
"Hear what?" Missandei asked before it came again. A… crashing, followed by a thud.
Tyrion blinked. "I may be slightly drunk, but I think something toppled over from within the chambers." Seeing Melisandre's lifeless gaze suddenly perk up, fire returning to her. Seeing Dany go all white… "I am mostly certain it isn't the wine…"
But Daenerys didn't hear him. Didn't hear anyone as she wrenched out of Missandei's grasp and raced back into the room. It was still dark, still gloomy, but instead of upon the table, Jon's corpse was on the ground…
Groaning and writhing on the ground, as if struggling to stand. He rasped out, trying to say something, but his voice hoarser than a man having emerged from a smoke-filled room. Seemed he had been revived suddenly, then tried to stand and had fallen.
"Jon!" Daenerys was by his side in a split-second, her own voice screaming orders at her advisors. "Send for a maester! And water! Bring water!"
"Seven Hells," Barristan muttered, while Missandei just stared with eyes as wide as an owl. Tyrion's mouth fell agape, and it didn't seem like it'd close any time soon. Left wondering if he really was that drunk.
"Well I'll be damned, it did work," Davos remarked, less excited than pleased. Jon Stark, you truly have the heart of the blessed.
Easing his face up, Daenerys' heart unclenched for the first time since all of this started at seeing his grey eyes back to life. "Jon… Lord Stark. You're alright." Her gaze moved down his body, then, she fully noticed the bevy of scars sported about his chest. Even the two that took his life, even though air filled his lungs, her breath got stuck in her throat. Those wounds were fatal and weren't going anywhere, the remainder of what happened. Eyes moving further down, realizing he was completely naked with a faint blush. Respectfully averting her eyes. "Your cloak, Ser Barristan," she croaked out. The older knight removed it as fast as he could.
His breathing uneven, unable to calm down. As someone draped a warm cloak around his shoulders his gaze set on her... and everything changed. Instead of his chest rising and falling rapidly, it slowed significantly. He blinked over and over again, senses returning. But he didn't look away from Dany.
His eyes were free of hate, of anger, of bitterness. They simply shone brightly, innocent of all the shit that plagued the world. Staring rather curiously at Daenerys. She was unable to speak as his hand gingerly moved - trembling - to cup her cheek. Thumb ghosting over her flesh, his skin met hers as it did in the cave. A shuddering breath fumbled from her mouth as she received him yet again. Her eyes closed, mind and body flooded with the semblance of heaven from their moment in the dragonglass cave. All was right again.
Then he began to try to speak, though it seemed difficult for him. Dany longed to hear him say her name, one more time. Longed to hear him say his peace, what he felt. Instead, her heart stopped.
"Who... are you?"
A/N: BRuh4: Jon's back. What you expected as I said. I mean no one thought he'd stay dead. Probably. As we've said, his death is an essential part of his arc. Though as you saw by the last line of the chapter, things will be different. Feel free to speculate. Basically, we want his death to have an impact. Instead of waking up, just pulling his hair back and having two lines. You'll see. It's gonna be cool.
Before you ask, yes. If it's not clear, Jon may have forgotten a few things.
Longclaw: As you can see, we're not skimping on the act of resurrection. Jon died! Something's gotta change here.
We didn't want a long monologue, but I think Dany needed to say a little something to Jon by herself. Thoughts?
Dany couldn't help but get a peek in at her man ;)
Tell your friends.