Jon

When Jon woke he felt as if cast into a dream. The pale sunlight falling through the shutters made him wince and the scars on his chest felt like dragonfire.

Yet he felt so cold, his fingers numb from the chilly air reigning in the dark room. The bed beneath him was uncomfortable and his body felt heavy as if someone placed stones on his chest.

Where am I, he wondered his memories distant and blurred like rain. He had died, so much he knew. The Night King buried his blade of milk glass into his chest and killed him. He was the last to die, but yet he was here. Alive.

He searched his memories, his head pounding in a painful rhythm.

"Careful," a familiar voice whispered softly and touched his brow.

He inclined his head, his whole lower body brimming with pain. He recalled her golden hair and blue eyes. She died long before the Wall fell. Long before Winterfell and King's Landing perished. It was the Battle of the Bastards that killed her, like hundreds of her kinsmen.

"Val," he whispered his voice barely above a whisper.

"Aye," she confirmed and brushed her messy braid of honey over her pelted shoulder."It is me."

"You should be dead," he said, his voice strained and distant. Every part of his head burned with pain as he tried to remember the last moments before his death. His second death, by the hands of the Night King…

"I could say the same about you," she replied, a frown taking hold of her face. Then she put a bowl of water to his mouth.

He drank eagerly, but his thirst for answers was even greater.

"What happened?"

"The Crows killed you and the Red Woman brought you back. She sang prayers to her god to bring you back, but you didn't wake…only after we put you into the pyre did you return to us."

Then she grinned, baring her white teeth and brushed her hand over his cheek.

No, he thought and refused to believe it. The Night King killed him and yet he is here. Back in the past, on the day of his first resurrection.

What kind of madness is this? Are the gods trying to mock me?"

"It can't be true," he replied and shivered violently. As he sat up he emptied his stomach on the floor beneath him.

The chill creeping back into his bones made him realize that he was naked beneath the furs. With a trembling hand he touched the familiar scars sprawling over his chest. Daenerys had traced them with her slender fingers, a sad smile on her lips…

The memory pierced him deeper than sharp Valyrian steel. She is dead, he knew and felt despair taking hold of him. No, she was dead.

He leaned against the wall as he tried stand. Moving forward he stumbled over his feet like a newborn babe, but Val was quick at his side and steadied him.

"Careful," she told him, but he ignored her. He needed answers. Now.

"It can't be…you all should be dead," he stuttered."I should be dead."

"But we are not dead," Val repeated, her face alight with confusion. Carefully she helped him to sit back down on the bed and brushed the fur over his shoulders."The Red Woman brought you back."

Lady Melisandre, he realized the familiar feeling of rage stirring inside him. It was her who burned the Princess Shireen. It was her who made him do it…to forge Lightbringer. The last act in the bloody war that was the Long Night. For nothing…they all died for nothing. His father sacrificed everything for this prophecy and it turned out to be nothing more than a pretty lie.

"Lord Snow," Lady Melisandre's voice called him back from his misery. She stood at the entrance, her ruby eyes wide in wonder as she regarded him. The Onion Knight hovered next to her a frown creasing his brows."Then it is true…all I believed was a lie."

The mere sight of her made him fist the bedding, but he was too weak to get to his feet.

"Indeed," he snapped angrily, his dark eyes piercing into hers."A lie…your silly prophecies are nothing more than a folly for children."

She didn't answer at once, but bridged the distance in a swirl of red silk, her ruby eyes wandering over his scars.

"Your scars are completely healed…R'hllor blessed you. You are right…Stannis was not the Prince that was Promised. I misjudged the fires."

"Misjudged?" he asked, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. She knew nothing of the dark future lying ahead of them."There is nothing for us in the future other than darkness and death. The Long Night will take everything from us. No prince will come and save us."

Then he laughed and laughed, his whole body rumbling with pain and amusement. Their faces told him that they thought him mad, but he didn't care.

The pain was too much. He was torn between laughing and weeping.

After he had regained a semblance of composure Ser Davos sent Lady Melisandre away.

Pale and shaken by his words she left in company of Val, who had been lingering at the entrance throughout the whole conversation.

"You were dead and now you are not…that is fucking mad…I can only imagine how it feels to you," the old man began, but Jon cut him off before he was able to continue.

"I came back before," he told him straight to the point and laughed. He doubted the man would understand, but he needed to elevate the pain inside him."This is not the first time. Last time you told me something very similar."

"Before?" he asked, his brows furrowed in confusion."I don't…"

"I died before and the Lady Melisandre brought me back. Then we took back Winterfell and fought the White Walkers. Three years of fighting…three years of starving and death. Nothing worked. All of you died in the end."

The old man paled visibly, but Jon didn't expect any understanding from him.

"You fight for as long as you can and you clean up as much of the shit as you can," he recounted the Ser Davos' words to him. They gave him courage when he needed it the most."You told me that to comfort me after my first resurrection."

Now he felt only despair. Despair that he will have to live through that horror again. Gods, what if it will never end? What if he will have to repeat this over and over again…

The old man's eyes widened in shock. Maybe, he intended to give him the same words of courage…

When the old man didn't answer Jon sighed and started to shake his head.

"It matters not. I failed…the Night King cannot be destroyed. I tried to forge Lightbringer…but it didn't work."

"I admit…I don't know what to make of your words," the old man replied."But if there is one thing I have learned in my long life then it is this…if you fail you need to get up and fail again."

Jon couldn't help but to laugh when he heard the familiar words. He told the same to Daenerys and to his sisters after Winterfell was lost. Then later he told he told it to the survivors of King's Landing…

"Are these words also familiar to you?" the old man asked then and gave him a spooked look.

Jon gave a weak nod in return.

"Gods!" the old man cursed and stroked his beard."What kind of madness is this?"

Jon exhaled deeply and brushed his hair out of his face.

"I do not know. I only know that I got a third chance."

…

The traitors were executed in the morning, a grim sky spreading over the horizon. The men of the Night's Watch and the Free Folk stood assembled to pay witness to the act.

Even Ghost was here, his ruby eyes resting on him. It gave him comfort, but was unable to take away the simmering pain in his chest.

"Everything is ready, Lord Commander," Edd told him, his eyes red from lack of sleep. It must have been a long night for his old friend.

"Good," Jon replied and forced a frozen smile over his lips."But don't call me Lord Commander. My watch is over."

Then he climbed up the wooden pedestal where the gallows were built on. With the loops already placed on the traitors' heads he came to stand before them, their eyes widened in shock at his sudden appearance.

Last time he cut off their heads, but this time he needed them whole. At least this way their treachery will be of use.

"Give me your last words," he demanded, his eyes resting on Bowen Marsh. His face was bruised and his small dark eyes wide in fear.

"Why are you not dead?"

"It seems the Lady Melisandre's God has other plans for me," he snapped back, deriving a certain pleasure from the man's pained expression. Even now he recalled the pain of the daggers finding his flesh.

The next traitor named Wick spit into his face, but Jon remained calm. His old self wouldn't have endured this insult like this. Yet his old self didn't know the horrors of the Long Night.

At last came Ser Alliser Thorn, grim and determined even in death while the man Durran the Defiant whimpered.

"Tell my mother that I died fighting the Wildlings. I beg you."

"Your whimpering is making my head squirm, boy!" Ser Alliser complained and clenched his teeth. Jon hated him and sometimes even despised him, but among this hatred he also felt respect for him. He was a man who stood by his principles even in the face of death."I fought and I lost. Now I rest, but you Lord Snow…you will be fighting their battles forever."

Truer words were never spoken, Jon thought. He even felt a hint of jealousy. He longed to rest…

Yet he knew that now was not the time for idleness.

Thus he unsheathed Longclaw and cut the rope. It felt strange to hold his old blade when he lost it in the Battle for Winterfell. It shattered into a thousand pieces…

The rope tightened instantly and snapped. He heard the breaking of bones and the traitors stopped moving.

Their faces made him shudder down to the marrow of his bones. Blue and contorted he couldn't help but to be reminded of the enemy…

He was given another chance, but he didn't know what to do with it. How can he defeat the Night King when he wasn't even able to do it in his past incarnation?

"Should we burn the bodies?" Edd asked, but Jon shook his head."No, put the dead bodies into the Ice Cells."

Edd paled and wrinkled his brows.

"Why the bloody hell do you want to put them there?"

"You will see," Jon replied and shifted his attention to Tormund. He stood there in company of his mighty son Torreg and his two daughters, all three of them kissed by fire like Ygritte. There were other familiar faces he had missed. Soren Shieldbreaker, the Magnar of Thenn...all of them died in the Long Night.

Yet now they are here, breathing and alive.

"Death left you unchanged, Lord Crow," Tormund japed in his usual disregard for formality."They say you are a god, but I saw your cock. No god has a cock that small."

Jon couldn't help but to smile. It was the first honest smile he shed since returning to this shadow of his memories.

"You told me that before," he replied vaguely."But my cock matters little in the grand scheme of things. Now let us go inside…there is much we need to speak about."

"Aye," Tormund agreed and Jon led them into the Shieldhall, the only place big enough to house them all.

Jon asked Edd to bring them mulled wine and to stir fires in the hearths. The taste of the wine was warm and pleasant…like a kiss.

No, he thought and brushed those thoughts away before they were able to take hold of him. I killed her.

"Lord Crow!" Tormund's grumbling voice called him back to the present."Have you lost your speech?"

"I apologize," Jon replied and lowered his head."I heard you…What I wanted to say...The Free Folk needs to prepare. We will soon go to war."

Hushed whispers and muttering followed, but Jon ignored it. The last time it was Sansa who stirred him to action, but this time he is determined to be prepared for her arrival. And that of this mummer who pretends to care for her…Lord Petyr Baelish.

"War against whom?" Soren Shieldbreaker asked.

"The Boltons. Winterfell needs to be retaken if we want to prepare for the coming winter and the true enemy."

"And how will we retake Winterfell?" Tormund asked and stroked his beard."Mance told me what a mighty castle it is. If this King of yours wasn't able to take it how can we accomplish it? We have barely a few thousand fighting men. The rest are women and little children."

We will soon have an army, he wanted to reply but only he knew the truth Sansa hid from him the last time. This time he intended to make full use of the Vale Lords.

Yet he couldn't tell them that. They would think him mad.

"We have Wun Wun and we will prepare. Trust me."

Later that night he settled himself before the hearth, watching the flames and hoping to see a glimpse of the future. Lady Melisandre claimed to have this ability, but it was just another lie. The flames told him nothing…

"There you are Lord Snow," the woman's soft voice roused him out of his deep thoughts."It seems you find the flames as captivating as me. If you want I could teach you how to see."

"I don't need flames to see the darkness that lies ahead of us," he told her, not intending to hold back. If anyone in this world may believe him then it was her."I know how it feels, because I experienced it."

Confusion shone in her red ruby eyes.

"What did you see?" she asked and knelt down next to him, her slender fingers brushing over his burned hand.

"A world full of death," he replied and brushed her hand away."In the end Westeros was lost to the death...we hoped to at least safe Essos. I made the necessary blood sacrifice...but it didn't work. I died and now I am here back at the beginning…it was you who made me do it. It was you who made me kill her."

"Who?"

"You will meet her soon enough."

Then rose and went to sleep, Ghost licking his burned hand as if to mend the scars left there.

…

Information on this story:

Is a mixture of book and show elements. There are several characters in this story that don't appear in the show.

In regards to Jon's relationships in his past resurrection:

Jon was pretty fucked up after his first resurrection and had something going with Val, but she died in the Battle of the Bastards. It wasn't really serious, but I am mentioning because Jon will mention it in the story. Jon won't have a relationship with her in this current resurrection due to the simple fact that he got married to Daenerys and had a kid with her. They spent three years fighting the White Walkers before Jon died. I don't see him just hopping in bed with Val again after being married to another woman. Jon is pretty rattled by the past, but he is not the kind of guy who indulges in many women. Jon will meet Daenerys after Winterfell is retaken and she will have some sort of memory of him, but it won't be as direct as with Jon.

Ask questions if you like.

I apologize. When I posted this chapter the first time there was something wrong with he format I used. Now everything should be correct.

Ask questions if you like. I will try to answer them in the next chapter.