A Dragon In Wolf's Clothing ~A Game of Thrones fan fiction~

Chapter Sixty Six: No Going Back

Darkness. Nothing. Death.

"Zyhys oñoso jehikagon Aeksiot epi, se gis hen syndrorro jemagon,"

"Zyhys perzys stepagon Aeksio Oño jorepi, se morghultas lys qelitsos sikagon,"

"Hen syndrorro, oños. Hen ñuqir, perzys. Hen morghot, glaeson,"

'Come back to me, come back,'

Fire. Light. Life.

Lyanna felt like an empty cave, barren of life, a shell of something which had been, until a flaming beacon was thrown into her, reigniting life, both in her soul and inside her body.

Her eyes flashed open and her chest heaved as she took in her first breath. Her throat stung and all her insides ached as everything came back to life. Her eyes saw nothing but white, the overwhelming brightness blinding her, until she remembered that everything would seem bright considering where she had come from.

'I'm dead,' she thought. 'They cut my throat and I died. Is this the afterlife?'

No, it couldn't be. Everything seemed too real, especially the voices calling out to her, though her ears were still ringing with white noise she could hear someone calling her name.

Lyanna suddenly felt overwhelmed, all the sensations of life coming back to her. She had been laying down on a hard wooden table, but Lyanna quickly jumped up, finding her feet as she threw herself off the table and tried to stand, only to loose all feeling in her legs and stumble.

Someone caught her, their tight arms grabbing her as she fell, holding her in a tight embrace. Their arms seemed warm and comforting, and she lulled back against them for support.

"Lya!" The voice called again, and only as she looked up did she realise it was Jon holding her.

"Jon..." Lyanna spoke, and as the words came out, her hand jumped up to her throat, remembering what had happened.

Lyanna's cold, shaking fingers traced across where the knife had made its mark in ending her life. It had killed her, she remembered feeling the blood seep out of her, so how was she here? Instead of a page, gaping cut like she thought would be there was a thin bump across her thrust, stitched together with fine, wire-like thread, holding it together. As her fingers touched the stitches, Jon took her and pulling it away.

"Don't..." he said, pausing as if he realised he didn't know what to say. "Lyanna... there was nothing, no afterlife, no heavens,"

"I always said the gods were a waste of time," Lyanna muttered, through she didn't think now was the time for humour.

"Except for the god who brought you both back," a woman spoke which was when Lyanna noticed the others in the room. An old man with a short grey beard, a big ginger bearded wildling, Cassius practically hiding in the corner in fear and shock, and this red woman.

"A red priestess?" Lyanna squinted through the dank lighting, her eyes still adjusting to being alive again. "I thought they were only in Essos, how long have we been dead?"

"A day and a half at most," the old man spoke, trying not to look at her. Lyanna frowned, confused as to why he wasn't meeting her eye, when she realised that she was naked. Cassius offered her her cloak and Lyanna gladly wrapped it around herself. "I found you myself, and stitched your throat up. I'm surprised you can even speak, considering, well..."