Melisandre - I

In the middle of the Hall of Shield had been placed the lifeless body of Jon Snow, the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, who died only a few hours earlier in the hands of his own sworn brothers.

The huge wolf Huargo watched the corpse from a corner of the hall. At no time did I stop observing the body lying on the table.

The Hall was almost completely empty, only a few savages of the free people were present, acting as guards, no Black Brother was allowed to attend, they could not be trusted.

Next to Jon's body was a woman of mystical presence, red hair and red clothes, the red witch.

—Ice and knives in the dark. Frosty and red blood, and naked steel. I warned you, Lord Snow, and you did not listen. —Melisandre whispered, and in her hands the letter that propitiated the unfortunate events that occurred that same day was extended.

Melisandre went to the bonfire in which an intense fire was shining. He then reread the letter perhaps for the hundredth time.

—It's not possible... Stannis... I was sure... But if you were not the prince who was promised... So who? —I whisper.

—O Lord of Light, grant me a sign, where I am wrong, what I must do. —I pronounce looking directly at the flames.

The fire swirled, and the flames reflected a white field, only white and cold, the flakes slowly falling into the picture. «Snow, but what does it mean? » Then the image changed and in the flames a dragon and a wolf were reflected... a white wolf with red eyes...

—It's not possible... Dragon and wolf... Fire and ice... Melisandre's face paled, and for the first time since R'hllor granted her grace she felt the cold envelop her body. —No, no, it can't be... In that case... I have failed, the prince who was promised has died before my eyes... Blinded... I was blind to what I expected it to be, and I couldn't see the truth...

The door of the Hall of the Shield opened, and the cold winter wind seeped into the hall, Tormund had entered, followed by several of his men.

—Witch, we must burn the body as soon as possible! —bellow Tormund—There is no time to watch over a dead person, not now, not with those creatures on the prowl.

—No, we can't do that... We must not. The red woman replied.

—I thought you were fascinated by burning people in flames. King's blood, right? —I point out Jon Snow's body— that boy is the bastard of the Starks, blood of Rey, of a real one, a King of Winter, there are no older kings in this world. Maybe even dead will do you some good. He must be burned, I don't want to have to kill him when he wakes up with blue eyes!

—This is not the time. Not now. Melisandre replied. —He is the prince who was promised. We cannot burn it, not if there are still options.

—Options?!! Tormund shouted, —He's dead, red witch!! Dead, didn't you see him in your flames!

—I saw him, I warned him to keep his wolf close. I don't listen,— replied the red woman. —If only I could give the last kiss...

—Last kiss?, what the hell is that shit. — Tormund was getting more angry and impatient — The boy was a skinchanger, even if he was killed he still lives in his wolf. Although it does not matter, there is no difference in the end, without him, the free people are lost, the kneeling will kill us all.

—The Last Kiss, is the last sacrament, the last ritual, can bring back the dead.

—We don't need a dead person to come back, we've had enough of it!

—It's not the same. It will not return as a specter. It will be the same, but not the same as it was. —answer the woman— What do you mean when you say that he is still living in his wolf?

—The Skin Changers are like that, that's how it works, their minds, or their souls... It is ancient magic, when man dies he lives in his beast until the beast consumes what is left of man.

Melisandre's red eyes flashed upon hearing it, «It can work... in the past... Even if the body lived again, the soul did not return... but if his soul is still here...»

—There is still hope... He can come back... The lord of light is truly wise in his ways, he will no longer be bound by the oath... The prince who was promised will return... reborn... without ties to the Night's Watch, he will be able to fulfill his destiny...

—Crazy, besides being a witch, a madwoman! Tormund bellowed again, —we will burn him, it is the right thing to do, what he would have us do. I wouldn't want to come back as one of them.

The red woman approached Jon's body, and replied:

—We won't burn it. — I look Tormund straight in the eye — Don't you want me to come back? Only he will keep your free people safe south of the wall. Only he can protect men from what lies beyond the wall. He will bring back the dawn, and will end this winter, with the great Other. Only he can unite the living against the dead.

Tormund looked at Jon Snow's body. And he looked at the red woman again.

—Well... Do the rite you think can return it. I was just a child... If you can get back to life much better. If it doesn't work, we burn it.

—Thank you, Tormund the Giantslayer. — replied Melisandre— But I will need help with the preparations. In addition, we will have to wait for daylight to return with dawn.

—We'll help you if it's something we can do. —I answer in a bad mood.

—Braziers, saucepans, pots, anything in which a fire can be contained, bring them here, and make bonfires in them, we need fire, fire to channel the power of R'hllor. Fire to stop the cold magic that brings back the dead like specters. Also candles, lamps, whatever light and suffocates the darkness, as many as possible that there is no shade left in this place, only then can we be safe. Only then will I be able to make him come back.

—It will be done. But what should we do with the traitorous Crows?

—It's not our decision, but yours. He will decide when he has returned.

Tormund clearing his throat, drank in one gulp the mead horn he brought with him and gave orders to all the members of the free people present in the place.

Then he walked out of the hall, it didn't take long for the red witch's request to be satisfied.

Sa made many fires in that place, the candles completely suffocated the darkness, no shade could be found in that room.

Tables, chairs, and benches, all the furniture in the Hall of the Shield were made wood to feed the fires, the heat in the room was suffocating, even the cold air currents that filtered through the cracks of the walls were unable to affect the overwhelming temperature that was in the place, only the red witch remained there, next to the lifeless body of Jon Snow, she and the Lobo Huargo who had not moved from his place at any time, and who did not for an instant stop staring at the body.

When the sun rose at dawn, the ritual began, normally it would consist of a simple prayer and a kiss on the mouth of the deceased, but she had to be sure, it had to be perfect.

Thus, the red woman began to recite an ancient spell in high Valyrian, she kept doing the same for almost an hour, in the course of that time the flames of the bonfires and candles ruffled and grew, as if they were alive they vibrated and stirred as if there was a breeze blowing through the room. But the air is calm, stagnant, not even the slightest current was perceptible.

The fire looked alive, and its color was unnaturally turning whitish-red tones, similar to steel heated in a forge.

A few hours passed, and Melisandre continued to recite the spell, or prayer.

When the sun reached its zenith, the red witch put her hands on Jon Snow's chest and sealed his lips with a light kiss.

The flames throughout the room swirled, the light converged on Jon and then faded, the fires had gone out, and under Melisandre's palms a slight heartbeat was perceptible, which every minute became firmer and stronger.

Jon's heart was beating again, but there was no trace of his consciousness returning.

Minutes passed and Jon's body temperature returned to normal.

The wounds on his torso had closed when the spell was completed. But it didn't look like he was going to wake up.

«No, no, not again, I couldn't have failed...»

Minutes passed, and the hope in Melisandre's eyes began to fade.

The setting sun dyed the skies red outside.

And the red woman decided to leave the hall, she had failed, and it was time to burn the body.

The moment he had opened the door of the Shield Hall, behind him he could hear a loud exhalation.

Turning quickly in Jon's direction, Melisandre saw the young man sitting on the inn, and the wolf Huargo asleep in the corner.

—Why... Why am I...? — the young Lord Commander asked with an unfocused look, his expression was one of total disbelief.

—¿Alive…?

—Yes... I could see it all... I saw myself dead, in the snow, my blood... me... I was stabbed... I remember biting the traitors... A wolf's dream, I... I was Ghost, but... already... I have already died... Jon Snow was dead...

—What you saw was real... You were dead, Jon Snow, but the lord of light has other plans for you... You couldn't stay dead.... It would have gone against your mission, your destiny.

—"Mission, destiny?" I am sorry my lady, but I am not Stannis to fall into your manipulations ... I'm Jon Snow, bastard son of Eddard Stark... and... now... My guard is over.

—Yes, Jon Snow, your guard is over... And now you will do what you think you should do. I will not try to direct your path, that is not the role that the lord of light had planned for me, now I see it.

—I'm back... alive again... I... I have matters to attend to.

Jon came down from the inn he was in, walked slowly to the door, and before leaving he called his wolf.

—Here Ghost, come with me.

The Huargo rose silently, as always, and walked to Jon's side.

Melisandre followed them a few steps away as they ventured into the cold outside. Already almost completely covered by shadows.

Outside were some members of the free people, who quickly looked at Jon, terrified that he had risen like a specter. But when they noticed that their eyes were not blue, they relaxed, and the fear in their gazes turned into a kind of worship.

—By the Gods, he is alive... He was dead, but now he is alive... — Melisandre could hear the almost unintelligible murmurs that one of those men whispered feverishly — must have been blessed by the old gods... He must be his herald... or maybe he is a god himself...

For a moment Melisandre wanted to refute that it had been the Lord of Light who had brought her back, but then she remembered the wall, and the ancient magic that dwelt in it, «what those heretics say may not be totally wrong, the gods with the greatest power here are the ancients, the tree gods of the Children of the Forest, His mind, not his soul was still here, in his wolf, that was the magic of the ancient gods not his ... and had it not been, I probably would have failed...»

Finally, she decided not to say anything, I would just follow Azor Ahai, the prince who was promised, I would no longer interfere, I would only give him his advice and guidance if he asked me.