Ser Davos and Thyrsa were panicking more than Jon.
He sat up slowly, looking around and suddenly remembering what'd happened to him. He realized Thyrsa and Ser Davos were there, then stared at Ghost for a moment before starting to hyperventilate.
"You're okay!" said Thyrsa, catching him as he toppled off the table. "You're alright– it's okay– oh gods... oh gods, it worked–" she helped Ser Davos put his cloak over him. "It's alright, Jon, go on, cover up, nobody here wants to see you bare as the day you were born any longer than we have to." She had him lean back on the table, cupping his face. "You're alive."
She hugged him tight, holding the back of his head and burying her head in his shoulder, trying to stop herself from crying. "I promise, they won't hurt you or anyone else ever again."
Ser Davos opened the door for Melisandre, who came in, eyes wide as saucers. "What do you remember?" asked Ser Davos.
Jon stared over Thyrsa's shoulder. "They stabbed me. Olly... he put a knife in my heart..." he held onto Thyrsa, shaking and refusing to let her pull away. "I shouldn't be here."
"The lady brought you back," said Ser Davos.
Melisandre knelt in front of Jon. "Afterwards, after they stabbed you, after you died, where did you go? What did you see?"
He gulped. "Nothing. There was nothing at all."
"The Lord let you come back for a reason. Stannis was not the prince who was promised but someone has to be."
"Could you give us a moment?" asked Ser Davos, sensing that Jon was in no state to try and process this right now.
Thyrsa tried to draw away so she could sit with him, but Jon still held on. "It's okay," said Thyrsa, wiggling out of his grip to caress his head, just like her sisters used to whenever she was afraid. "I'm not going anywhere. You're safe. We've got you."
I couldn't save my other siblings. I couldn't even save him. I won't fail again. I won't fail him like I failed Robb.
Jon was her King, her brother, her friend. The next time someone laid a hand on him would be the last time they ever felt the embrace of anything in the entire world.
"You were dead," said Ser Davos as Thyrsa rubbed Jon's back. "And now you're not. That's completely fucking mad, seems to me. I can only imagine how it seems to you."
He nodded weakly. "I did what I thought was right. And I got murdered for it. And now I'm back." He started to cry. "Why?"
"I don't know. Maybe we'll never know. What does it matter? You go on. You fight for as long as you can, you clean up as much of the shit as you can."
"I don't know how to do that... I thought I did, but... I failed."
"Listen to me," said Thyrsa, kneeling in front of him. "You did not fail. They failed. They failed to be loyal, they failed to open their minds, they failed to realize that this is bigger than just the Night's Watch, it's the fate of all the men, women, and children in the realm. You are a good man, Jon. You make me have pride in my King, pride in my family."
He sighed. "Reckon the men still feel pride, too?"
"I do think so. Whenever you're ready, we can go and see them."
She drew him a bath while Ser Davos went to fetch him something to eat. She gave him privacy to dress then combed back his hair, left quite different after Melisandre had cut so much off. She was able to tie it out of his face, the style reminding her of how Hother used to wear his.
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Ursa Major | Tormund Giantsbane
FantasyShe saw firsthand how loyalty could falter, how war destroyed everything in its path, how men died serving fools. So much that could have been prevented if people learned to listen. And when she did, she heard a call she never expected and could nev...