Capítulo 3: The resurrection
Melisandre woke from her trance. She had spent the night staring into the flames for any sight of Stannis her Prince. She received only visions of snow. The world outside her fire was a dangerous one at the moment. Wildlings and Black Brothers had a tenuous peace, each waiting for something to set off the inevitable confrontation.
Jon Snow was able to hold them all in check but that had been thrown to hell by his Murder two nights ago. The Queens men had secluded themselves with Selyse in their rooms afraid to enter the precarious situation that was Castle Black, and also because they had all been shaken by the news of Stannis, their King.
There was a pecking at the window and her head whipped towards it. A crow sat belligerently by the glass panes squawking and pecking. Intrigued the Red Woman opened the glass window and allowed the bird to enter. It fluttered its wings erratically, it flew around the room wildly. For a moment it sat on the lock of her door, then it swooped down over the dead body of the Lord Commander that sat on a bench by the wall, then up to her chest of powders.
The bird squawked again. Talons grasped a vial of powder then flung it into her small fire. "LOOK!" It screamed. "SEE!" Melisandre was shocked to hear the bird speak and for it to display such intelligence, it was then she recognised it as Jon Snows bird. His fascinating crow that would squawk words form his shoulder. Even in death Jon Snows mind eluded her.
She did as the bird commanded and stared into the flames. "Show me the Prince." She pleaded with her Lord of Light. "Show me the Prince who was Promised. Show me Azor Ahai." Yet all her Lord showed her was snow, not Stannis. She sighed in defeat. What was she to tell the Queen when eventually she came demanding answers. Perhaps a sacrifice was needed, the Princess Shireen should do.
"SNOW! SNOW! SNOW!" The bird mocked her from its place in the mantle, fluttering its black wings. "I can see its snow you foolish animal." She cast her eyes down a third time and again, saw only the gentle fall of snow.
"SNOW! SNOW! JON SNOW!" It screamed at the Red Woman's eyes widened.
"The Prince Who Was Promised? Jon Snow." She turned to look at the body on her bench but eyes stared back at her. Grey eyes in the sockets of a White Wolf. Melisandre could have sworn the Direwolf had red eyes, yet these grey ones seemed so familiar. The wolf made an intimidating sight, blood staining its jaws and muzzle, yet Melisandre felt no danger as she looked into those eyes.
She stood to her full height and looked down at the beast wondering how it got through the locked door. She was broken from her thoughts as the beast tugged on the hem of her dress and pulled her towards table. She followed freely behind the hulking white wolf. Said wolf half jumped onto the table, standing on its back legs it nudged at the body of its master until his cold lifeless eyes fell open.
Melisandre looked at the wolf with curiosity then looked at the eyes fo the dead Lord Commander. A gasp escaped her as she looked into the same grey eyes housed in the wolf's emotive gaze. She looked down at Ghost to confirm that they were the same eyes only to find pools of red looking up at her.
She felt a heat burning in her chest. Her purpose was clear, she knew what her Lord wanted of her. She would return Jon Snow to life.
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As the moon rose to its greatest height so did Jon Snow. He sat up slowly from the table. Eyes scanning the room and settling on Ghost. Melisandre mass of scarlet robes and copper hair heaving on the ground, desperately filling her lungs with air. The ritual took a lot of strength from her.
He flexed his arms and the muscles coiled with strength. Standing from the bench he looked down inspecting his shirtless chest, it was covered in bright red scars and pain flared out from them. He blinked rapidly, chasing away the darkness of death that crept into his vision and then he realised just how cold he was.
"SNOW!" Came the cry of a raven in the corner as it fluttered forward and sat on his shoulder. It stayed there for only a moment before fluttering off and out the window. Jon moved as if in a dream and his memories seemed like fog. He raised his and to his shoulder. The damn bird had cut him with his talons, not that it hurt all that much.
With his own blood on his finger Jon raised the digit to his mouth and he sucked the blood. The copper taste was so familiar it filled his heads with memories. In the body of Ghost he stalked Castle Black hunting those who had killed him. The copper taste of their blood was so sweet to his tastebuds and the memory was sweet too. He felt alive, yet at the same time he felt as though he was a wraith. As though he didn't belong in this world any longer.
Melisandre rose after catching her breath and Jon surged towards her. She opened her mouth to speak but the mind of Jon Snow was not in a position to listen. His strong grip grabbed bother her wrists and pinned them above her head as he pushed her back against the wall, pinning her there with his own body.
He found himself staring at her red hair. Her piercing eyes. He felt how her breast heaved against his chest. She was tall, just a few inches shorter than he was. His free hand came to rest around her throat, not a tight hold like the one around her wrist. His mind was a fog and the only thing he could focus on was the heat emanating from her.
"I'm cold witch." He growled at her and she smiled warmly, even her smiled were warm.
"The Lord of Light is the God of Heat. I am his Priestess." Her eyes glowed with power. "I can warm you Lord Snow."
"Snow? That was my name wasn't it. Jon Snow." His grip on her wrists fell away and the grip on her neck tightened but the Red Woman smiled and her jewel necklace pulsed with a warming light.
She ran her fingers over his wounds on his stomach and chest, then light as feathers they came to his face before tangling in his hair. Everywhere her fingers touched grew warm, driving away the chill of death. His wild eyes fluttered shut and his grip on her neck loosened. She surged forward and fought his lips with her own.
The feel brought new memories from the fog of Jon's mind. Memories of cold being driven away by the warmth. Memories of red hair. Kissed by fire the hair was. This witch is cursed by fire. But it was a different shade of red. Ygritte!
Jon stopped moving and tensed. Melisandre, feeling the change in the Lord Commander did the same. Their lips were so close and Melisandre might have surged forward and tried to kiss him again if not for the right hold he had reinstated around her throat. He growled against her lips. A primal growl full of wildness. His own lips fell to her neck and rested against her pulse. It was racing against his lips.
They slipped further down, he placed a chaste kiss on her bare shoulder before his eyes returned to her own. "I'm so cold." He croaked. "And you're so warm." His words were weak as his hand finally left her throat and he stepped away from her.
She gasped and raised her hands to her throat. Her skin was cold where he had touched her but soon heated again. She strangely found herself missing the feel of his strong hands around her throat, but it was not her place to question him, so she let him go.
Jon stood now in the shadow by the window. He made sure no one would see him if they looked through the window. He found realised they were in the Lord Commanders room. His room. Longclaw lay on the bench where he had previously sat not twenty minutes before. Ghost sat patiently by the door and Jon kneeled by the window where he stood.
The white wolf raced towards his master, taking the action as an invitation and the two fell to a heap on the floor. Jon's cold arms wrapped around his companion and he burried his face in the direwolf's neck. He inhaled deeply and the fur smelt of home. It smelting blood and the forrest, it smelt of the wild. Ghost smelt of freedom.
Rising from the floor Jon inspected the Red Woman before him. "I do not like you Witch, I have never liked you. But you have brought be back from death, so I will do you one favour." Jon said to her, his once grey eyes taking on a startling red hue.
"Then let me serve you, Azor Ahai, as my Lord commands of me." Jon scoffed at her but ultimately decided that it might work in his favour to have the allegiance of such a Witch. "Fine woman, if you wish to serve then first you'll go find my steward Eddison Tollett." He dismissed her with a wave.
"You may find some dead men while you look for him, that was my work," His hand stroked Ghosts blood stained muzzle. "And be quick." Finished with the Red Woman Jon turned and approached his wardrobe. He began to dresss himself.
When Melisandre returned with a tired and confused Edd the two were greeted to the sight of Jon, a black doublet fastened with silver buckles and on the seat before him was his armour laid out. He looked up calmly as they entered. Melisandre smiled as she threw down her hood but Edd stared in amazement. He took a hesitant step forward.
"Are you a white?" He asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Ghost came up beside his master and Edd knew that it was him. He surged forward and embraced his friend, Jon grunted as pain flared through his chest. "Of course you couldn't die, to fuckin' lucky." Came the dry words of Dolorous Edd once the two had settled down.
"It's hectic out there, everyone is waiting for the other to make the first move. Most of the Brothers are with you, but Bowen and Yarwyck have men of their own. I imagine the Shadow Tower and Eastwatch will support what ever you do." Jon nodded and took a swig from his cup.
"Those who stabbed me, Ghost has already seen to most, only Bowen remains, but he likely won't lie down and take what I mean to give him." Jon said flexing his sword hand.
"Edd you will go now, go to Gren, Pyp, Tormund, Leathers, Emmet. Go to Val if you can. Tell them their Lord Commander needs them one last time. Return with them in the morning."
"Of course you get me to do all the leg work" Edd scoffed his usual dry reply but there was a hint of a smile on his dark face.
Edd left quickly and Jon turned back to the Red Woman. She walked close to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. He remembered then how cold he was, after feeling her heat. A growl escaped Jon's lips. He had fought so hard to stop himself earlier, but he had been fighting for years now, and he was tired. So he didn't fight the urge to rip of her dress. He gave in.
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