He doesn't know what to expect as he stares at the tent around him, strikingly familiar and painful to see. He doesn't have to guess who it belongs to or when this is. He can see that dark red hair and the flicker of the firelight against Melisandre's collar. What he doesn't expect to see is Wanda at his side, witnessing this as though it were some sort of play put on for them both.

"It's a memory." Is all he can. That's what it has to be. Why and how it's happening, he doesn't know. This is his first time experiencing something like this, but as with all the magic in this world, it doesn't surprise him anymore.

"My lady?" Another Jon Snow appeared, this one of similar age but weighed down by a coming battle he couldn't win and a missing spark that made him seem only half alive. He was still one foot in the grave then, before he found the will to live. "You were not at the war council."

"I'm not a soldier." The red woman responded.

"Any advice?"

"Don't lose." Jon at Wanda's side said it at the same time as Melisandre. He knew what would come next, the things he would say and reveal, but he couldn't stop it. He couldn't stop any of this. Wanda would know something so very few did. It was almost like she was being given a door into his soul, free rein to walk and wander across his fears and secrets. He felt frozen and cold, witnessing something he'd rather forget.

"If I do...if I fall...don't bring me back."