The Bite of Winter

Robb

five days after Jons's death.

The gates to Castle Black were open as Robb rode up to the Castle. A tall man with salt and pepper hair stood before him. "What is your business here?" He said in a cold voice. 

"I'm looking for Jon Snow," Robb answered. Greywind stood at his side. Robb could feel Greywinds grief. Something was wrong. He could see Ghost approaching, but not Jon.

"Lord Commander Snow is dead. What is your business here?" 

Robb's heart stopped. Jon couldn't be dead. "My name is Robb Stark. Take me to my brother." His voice was low. Greywind bared his teeth at the man, Ghost growled from behind him. 

"The young wolf is dead." The man's eyes were fixed on Greywind, his hand drifting towards the steel on his hip. 

"I am very much alive. Now take me to my brother." Robb dismounted his horse. A squire, or were they called stewards at the wall, took his horse from him, silently. Robb steps towards the man. 

"Follow me, your grace." He said, his voice nearly mocking. The man led Robb towards the wall. In any other circumstance, he would have been amazed by the structure before him. It was taller than any keep he had ever seen and stretch across the North until it reached the sea on both sides. 

They reached a cell, carved out of the ice. The man took out his keys and unlocked the door to the cell. When the door pulled open, Robb saw his brother on the ground. He stumbled into the cell. It was definitely Jon. He had aged over the past three years and earned a few new scars, but it was definitely his brother.

Jon's eyes were still open. He could see the shock in them. "How?" He asked the man. 

"There was a mutiny." The man answered. "I'll give you some privacy with him." The man turned and left. 

'A mutiny?' Robb couldn't believe it. His legs crumpled beneath him and he fell to the floor by his brother's side. He had placed all his hope in Jon, now that hope was dead. He reached forward with trembling hands and closed Jon's eyes. "Rest now, brother." He whispered. 

"I'm afraid that it isn't his time for rest." A woman said from behind him. He spun and saw a woman with red eyes and hair behind him. She was dressed in red as well. 

"Who are you?" Robb's voice cracked.

"Melissandre of Asshai." She answered stepping towards him. A man with flaming red hair followed behind her. 

"What do you mean it isn't his time?" Robb stood up, blocking the woman's path to Jon. 

"The Lord of Light has plans for him, and for you," Melissandre answered. "Let us bring him back."

Bring him back? That was impossible. The Seven would never allow a soul to return to the body, but this Lady Melissandre didn't mention the Seven. She spoke of the Lord of Light. Maybe he would allow Jon to return. He was already dead, what was the worst that could happen? 

Robb nodded and stepped to the side. The large man picked Jon up and carried him out of the room. The woman opened her arm, beckoning Robb to follow the man. He did, the woman walked behind him. Greywind and Ghost padded side by side next to him. 

They walked through the armory and into a makeshift solar. Melissandre closed and locked the door behind them. There were two men and a woman already in the room. 

The large man placed Jon on a table as Lady Melissandre lit candles throughout the room. 

Ghost and Greywind curled up together in the corner, grooming each other. 

"Who did this?" Robb rasped, his eyes remaining on his brother.

"Ser Allister Thorne." The man in all black spat out bitterly. The name wasn't familiar to Robb, but he would remember it for the rest of his days. It was a name that would join the ranks of Walder Frey, Tywin Lannister, Joffery Baratheon, and Ramsay Bolton. 

Lady Melissandre turned towards the motley crew that assembled in the solar. "I saw him in the flames, fighting the great war. He is Azor Ahai, the prince that was promised."

Robb felt a shiver go up his spine. Jon was technically a prince in his own right, but how did Lady Melissandre know that?

"His duty is not finished. The Lord of Light has led me to believe that I can bring him back. Everyone here has a part to play in the war to come. Will you help me?" Her eyes drifted across the faces. 

The man of the Night's Watch stepped forward. "Jon was my friend, and those fuckers butchered him. I will stand with you." He swore.

The man with flaming hair nodded, his eyes on Jon. "Aye, I will stand with you."

The older man nodded as well. "The watch will figure out that something is amiss soon. We don't have the numbers to stand against them."

"We have two dire wolves." The man of the Night's Watch replied.

"It's not enough, Edd. We need reinforcements." The older looked at the man with flaming hair. "We are not the only ones who owe Lord Commander Snow our lives." 

A small smile played at the man's lips. "You will need to survive until the morning if you want the Free Folks to help."

"We should be able to hold our position for long enough for you to bring them here." The woman spoke up, an ax twirling in her hand. 

"Aye, I'll ride with Tormund to bring the Free Folk here," Edd said and headed towards the door, the man with fiery hair at his heels. 

The older man locked the door behind them. 

The Lady Melissandre picked up a pair of shears to cut away Jon's clothes. Robbs breath hitched as he saw the fresh wounds on his chest. He couldn't take his eyes off them. Blood stained his skin. There were about seven wounds scattered across his chest and stomach. 

Ser Davos placed a cloth over Jons lower body as Melissandre began to scrub the blood off of Jon. Robb couldn't ignore the uneasy feeling in his stomach. He could see the nervous looks in the older man and woman as well. 

The woman murmured some words in Valyrian as she began to cut Jon's hair, tossing the strands into the fire. Robb could remember the argument that Jon would display every time his hair was cut in Winterfell. If he were awake, he would probably protest against Melissandre cutting it. 

Melissandre turned to Robb. "I need King's blood." She said, holding a knife out to him. 

"Im not a king anymore."

"No, you aren't. But you contain the blood of the old kings of winter."

He could feel the eyes of the other two occupants in the room looking at him curiously. 

Robb sliced open his palm and allowed his blood to fall into the flames as Melissandre chanted. She placed her hands over Jon's scars, her chanting growing louder. The fire grew larger as her voice rose. 

Then all of the fires in the room died, leaving them in darkness. Robb could heavy breathing in the darkness, and someone lighting a match. As light filled the room, Jon came crashing to the floor, retching black blood and bile. 

Robb's face paled in shock. It had worked. Jon was alive.