Ice & Fire: Dany & Jon -GoT/ASoIaF Parallels & Foreshadowing
Jul 7, 2016 11:33:26 GMT -5
moiaf and Envie like this
Post by lojzelote on Jul 7, 2016 11:33:26 GMT -5
Hello all!
This is all very much book stuff, but I wasn't sure where else to put it (since I don't feel like starting a new thread just for this), but I thought you might not mind a collection of quotes connecting the North/ice/death together. Maybe if you're interested, you could share what does it signify, if anything?
AGoT Catelyn
She gave her uncle a grim smile. “And when night falls, there are
said to be ghosts, cold vengeful spirits of the north who hunger for southron blood.”
(sounds like the Others who are said to smell and hate the warm blood of humans, doesn't it?)
AGoT Ned
Their footsteps rang off the stones and echoed
in the vault overhead as they walked among the dead of House Stark. The Lords of Winterfell
watched them pass. Their likenesses were carved into the stones that sealed the tombs. In long
rows they sat, blind eyes staring out into eternal darkness, while great stone direwolves curled
round their feet. The shifting shadows made the stone figures seem to stir as the living passed by.
By ancient custom an iron longsword had been laid across the lap of each who had been Lord of
Winterfell, to keep the vengeful spirits in their crypts. The oldest had long ago rusted away to
nothing, leaving only a few red stains where the metal had rested on stone. Ned wondered if that
meant those ghosts were free to roam the castle now. He hoped not. The first Lords of Winterfell
had been men hard as the land they ruled.
(according to Old Nan, the Others also hated iron)
He was walking through the crypts beneath Winterfell, as he had walked a thousand
times before. The Kings of Winter watched him pass with eyes of ice, and the direwolves at their
feet turned their great stone heads and snarled. Last of all, he came to the tomb where his father
slept, with Brandon and Lyanna beside him. “Promise me, Ned, “ Lyanna’s statue whispered.
She wore a garland of pale blue roses, and her eyes wept blood.
(reminiscent of Jon's and Theon's dreams)
Sansa blamed Arya and told her that it should have been
Nymeria who died. And Arya was lost after she heard what had happened to her butcher’s boy.
Sansa cried herself to sleep, Arya brooded silently all day long, and Eddard Stark dreamed of a
frozen hell reserved for the Starks of Winterfell.
(maybe the crypts again?)
AGoT Jon
“Do you ever find anyone in your dream?” Sam asked.
Jon shook his head. “No one. The castle is always empty.” He had never told anyone of the
dream, and he did not understand why he was telling Sam now, yet somehow it felt good to talk
of it. “Even the ravens are gone from the rookery, and the stables are full of bones. That always
scares me. I start to run then, throwing open doors, climbing the tower three steps at a time,
screaming for someone, for anyone. And then I find myself in front of the door to the crypts. It’s
black inside, and I can see the steps spiraling down. Somehow I know I have to go down there,
but I don’t want to. I’m afraid of what might be waiting for me. The old Kings of Winter are
down there, sitting on their thrones with stone wolves at their feet and iron swords across their
laps, but it’s not them I’m afraid of. I scream that I’m not a Stark, that this isn’t my place, but it’s
no good, I have to go anyway, so I start down, feeling the walls as I descend, with no torch to
light the way. It gets darker and darker, until I want to scream.”
AGoT Bran
Finally he looked north. He saw the Wall shining like blue crystal, and his bastard brother Jon
sleeping alone in a cold bed, his skin growing pale and hard as the memory of all warmth fled
from him. And he looked past the Wall, past endless forests cloaked in snow, past the frozen
shore and the great blue-white rivers of ice and the dead plains where nothing grew or lived.
North and north and north he looked, to the curtain of light at the end of the world, and then
beyond that curtain. He looked deep into the heart of winter, and then he cried out, afraid, and
the heat of his tears burned on his cheeks.
(is the first part truly only about Jon feeling cold and lonely at the moment of Bran's vision, or does it foreshadow his death?)
AGoT Arya
Robb took them all the way down to the end, past Grandfather and Brandon and Lyanna, to show them their own tombs. Sansa kept looking at the stubby little candle, anxious that it might go out. Old Nan had told her there were spiders down here, and rats as big as dogs. Robb smiled when she said that. “There are worse things than spiders and rats,” he whispered. “This is where the dead walk.” That was when they heard the sound, low and deep and shivery. Baby Bran had clutched at Arya’s hand.
When the spirit stepped out of the open tomb, pale white and moaning for blood, Sansa ran shrieking for the stairs, and Bran wrapped himself around Robb’s leg, sobbing. Arya stood her ground and gave the spirit a punch. It was only Jon, covered with flour. “You stupid,” she told him, “you scared the baby,” but Jon and Robb just laughed and laughed, and pretty soon Bran and Arya were laughing too.
(by itself entirely innocent, but taken with the other stuff, it could have further significance, too)
ACoK Theon, after he becomes the Prince of Winterfell
That night he dreamed of the feast Ned Stark had thrown when King Robert came to Winterfell.
The hall rang with music and laughter, though the cold winds were rising outside. At first it was
all wine and roast meat, and Theon was making japes and eyeing the serving girls and having
himself a fine time... until he noticed that the room was growing darker. The music did not seem
so jolly then; he heard discords and strange silences, and notes that hung in the air bleeding.
Suddenly the wine turned bitter in his mouth, and when he looked up from his cup he saw that he
was dining with the dead.
King Robert sat with his guts spilling out on the table from the great gash in his belly, and Lord
Eddard was headless beside him. Corpses lined the benches below, grey-brown flesh sloughing
off their bones as they raised their cups to toast, worms crawling in and out of the holes that were
their eyes. He knew them, every one; Jory Cassel and Fat Tom, Porther and Cayn and Hullen the
master of horse, and all the others who had ridden south to King’s Landing never to return.
Mikken and Chayle sat together, one dripping blood and the other water. Benfred Tallhart and
his Wild Hares filled most of a table. The miller’s wife was there as well, and Farlen, even the
wildling Theon had killed in the wolfswood the day he had saved Bran’s life.
But there were others with faces he had never known in life, faces he had seen only in stone.
The slim, sad girl who wore a crown of pale blue roses and a white gown spattered with gore
could only be Lyanna. Her brother Brandon stood beside her, and their father Lord Rickard just
behind. Along the walls figures halfseen moved through the shadows, pale shades with long grim
faces. The sight of them sent fear shivering through Theon sharp as a knife. And then the tall
doors opened with a crash, and a freezing gale blew down the hall, and Robb came walking out
of the night. Grey Wind stalked beside, eyes burning, and man and wolf alike bled from half a
hundred savage wounds.
ASoS Jon
He dreamt he was back in Winterfell, limping past the stone kings on their thrones. Their
grey granite eyes turned to follow him as he passed, and their grey granite fingers tightened on
the hilts of the rusted swords upon their laps. You are no Stark, he could hear them mutter, in
heavy granite voices. There is no place for you here. Go away. He walked deeper into the
darkness. “Father?” he called. “Bran? Rickon?” No one answered. A chill wind was blowing on
his neck. “Uncle?” he called. “Uncle Benjen? Father? Please, Father, help me.” Up above he
heard drums. They are feasting in the Great Hall, but I am not welcome there. I am no Stark, and
this is not my place. His crutch slipped and he fell to his knees. The crypts were growing darker.
A light has gone out somewhere. “Ygritte?” he whispered. “Forgive me. Please.” But it was only
a direwolf, grey and ghastly, spotted with blood, his golden eyes shining sadly through the dark...
ADwD Theon
Lady Dustin’s serjeant raised the lantern. Shadows slid and shifted. A small light in a great
darkness. Theon had never felt comfortable in the crypts. He could feel the stone kings staring down at
him with their stone eyes, stone fingers curled around the hilts of rusted longswords. None had any love
for ironborn. A familiar sense of dread filled him.
“That king is missing his sword,” Lady Dustin observed.
It was true. Theon did not recall which king it was, but the longsword he should have held was
gone. Streaks of rust remained to show where it had been. The sight disquieted him. He had always
heard that the iron in the sword kept the spirits of the dead locked within their tombs. If a sword was
missing …
There are ghosts in Winterfell. And I am one of them.
The world is gone. King’s Landing, Riverrun, Pyke, and the Iron Islands, all the Seven Kingdoms,
every place that he had ever known, every place that he had ever read about or dreamed of, all gone.
Only Winterfell remained.
He was trapped here, with the ghosts. The old ghosts from the crypts and the younger ones that
he had made himself, Mikken and Farlen, Gynir Rednose, Aggar, Gelmarr the Grim, the miller’s wife
from Acorn Water and her two young sons, and all the rest. My work. My ghosts. They are all here, and
they are angry. He thought of the crypts and those missing swords.
ADwD Jon
Six centuries had come and gone since that night, but Hardhome was still shunned. The wild had
reclaimed the site, Jon had been told, but rangers claimed that the overgrown ruins were haunted by
ghouls and demons and burning ghosts with an unhealthy taste for blood.
(this interesting, because these ghosts are supposed to be fiery)
ADwD Melisandre
Snowflakes swirled from a dark sky and ashes rose to meet them, the grey and the white
whirling around each other as flaming arrows arced above a wooden wall and dead things shambled
silent through the cold, beneath a great grey cliff where fires burned inside a hundred caves. Then the
wind rose and the white mist came sweeping in, impossibly cold, and one by one the fires went out.
Afterward only the skulls remained.
Death, thought Melisandre. The skulls are death.
The flames crackled softly, and in their crackling she heard the whispered name Jon Snow. His
long face floated before her, limned in tongues of red and orange, appearing and disappearing again, a
shadow half-seen behind a fluttering curtain. Now he was a man, now a wolf, now a man again. But the
skulls were here as well, the skulls were all around him. Melisandre had seen his danger before, had
tried to warn the boy of it. Enemies all around him, daggers in the dark. He would not listen.
Unbelievers never listened until it was too late.
“What do you see, my lady?” the boy asked, softly.
Skulls. A thousand skulls, and the bastard boy again. Jon Snow.
TWoW Theon
She has to understand. She is my sister. He never wanted to do any harm to Bran or Rickon. Reek made him kill those boys, not him Reek but the other one. "I am no kinslayer," he insisted. He told her how he bedded down with Ramsay's bitches, warned her that Winterfell was full of ghosts. "The swords were gone. Four, I think, or five. I don't recall. The stone kings are angry."
I'd say there is definitely a theme. The dead Starks are represented as ice cold hateful wraiths, but other Northern Houses may have their quirks too.
The Boltons
- cold eyes of the color of dirty ice
- Ramsay hunts maidens through forrests in a manner similar to the Others' (according to Old Nan's tales)
- Roose's ageless appearance, obsession with healthy lifestyle and the mysterious book he burned at Harrenhal led some people to speculate he may be dabbling in magic to prolong his life (Ice preserves, while Fire consumes?)
- Roose's leeching himself regularly in order to rid himself off of bad blood - this may be significant in relation to all the blood-hating and blood-sucking mentioned above.
Also this:
The hearth was caked with cold black ash, the room unheated but for candles. Every time a door
opened their flames would sway and shiver. The bride was shivering too. They had dressed her in white
lambs-wool trimmed with lace. Her sleeves and bodice were sewn with freshwater pearls, and on her
feet were white doeskin slippers—pretty, but not warm. Her face was pale, bloodless.
A face carved of ice, Theon Greyjoy thought as he draped a fur-trimmed cloak about her
shoulders. A corpse buried in the snow. “My lady. It is time.” Beyond the door, the music called them,
lute and pipes and drum.
Blood is warm and life-giving, OTOH bloodlessness signifies death and cold.
The Dustins
TWoIaF mentions this:
The rusted crown upon the arms of House Dustin derives from their claim that they are themselves descended from the First King and the Barrow Kings who ruled after him. The old tales recorded in Kennet's Passages of the Dead claim that a curse was placed on the Great Barrow that would allow no living man to rival the First King. This curse made these pretenders to the title grow corpselike in their appearance as it sucked away their vitality and life. This is no more than legend, to be sure, but that the Dustins share blood and descent from the Barrow Kings of old seems sure enough.
The Dracula reference
- the Three Sisters - the three brides of Dracula, anyone? - lie within the Bite that is adjacent upon the Neck
So, what's your ideas? Did the Northmen of old dabble in the Ice magic? Do the Kings of Winter smell Jon's hot Valyrian blood and that is the true reason why they denounce him? And what after his resurrection - will he become more cold-hearted, vengenful, pale and even vampire-like? Maybe his Valyrian descent will help him to withstand the temptation and not follow the fate of the Night's King? What of the Winterfell dragon imagery? Where do you think GRRM is going with this, guys and gals?
Also, in the light of the above, Jon's "prophecy" of
"The longer you hide, the sterner the penance. You’ll be sewing all through winter. When the spring thaw comes,
they will find your body with a needle still locked tight between your frozen fingers."
may not mean at all that Arya will die. It could mean she will change drastically and grow vengenful and heartless and serve the god of Death, but she won't necessarily die herself.
This is all very much book stuff, but I wasn't sure where else to put it (since I don't feel like starting a new thread just for this), but I thought you might not mind a collection of quotes connecting the North/ice/death together. Maybe if you're interested, you could share what does it signify, if anything?
AGoT Catelyn
She gave her uncle a grim smile. “And when night falls, there are
said to be ghosts, cold vengeful spirits of the north who hunger for southron blood.”
(sounds like the Others who are said to smell and hate the warm blood of humans, doesn't it?)
AGoT Ned
Their footsteps rang off the stones and echoed
in the vault overhead as they walked among the dead of House Stark. The Lords of Winterfell
watched them pass. Their likenesses were carved into the stones that sealed the tombs. In long
rows they sat, blind eyes staring out into eternal darkness, while great stone direwolves curled
round their feet. The shifting shadows made the stone figures seem to stir as the living passed by.
By ancient custom an iron longsword had been laid across the lap of each who had been Lord of
Winterfell, to keep the vengeful spirits in their crypts. The oldest had long ago rusted away to
nothing, leaving only a few red stains where the metal had rested on stone. Ned wondered if that
meant those ghosts were free to roam the castle now. He hoped not. The first Lords of Winterfell
had been men hard as the land they ruled.
(according to Old Nan, the Others also hated iron)
He was walking through the crypts beneath Winterfell, as he had walked a thousand
times before. The Kings of Winter watched him pass with eyes of ice, and the direwolves at their
feet turned their great stone heads and snarled. Last of all, he came to the tomb where his father
slept, with Brandon and Lyanna beside him. “Promise me, Ned, “ Lyanna’s statue whispered.
She wore a garland of pale blue roses, and her eyes wept blood.
(reminiscent of Jon's and Theon's dreams)
Sansa blamed Arya and told her that it should have been
Nymeria who died. And Arya was lost after she heard what had happened to her butcher’s boy.
Sansa cried herself to sleep, Arya brooded silently all day long, and Eddard Stark dreamed of a
frozen hell reserved for the Starks of Winterfell.
(maybe the crypts again?)
AGoT Jon
“Do you ever find anyone in your dream?” Sam asked.
Jon shook his head. “No one. The castle is always empty.” He had never told anyone of the
dream, and he did not understand why he was telling Sam now, yet somehow it felt good to talk
of it. “Even the ravens are gone from the rookery, and the stables are full of bones. That always
scares me. I start to run then, throwing open doors, climbing the tower three steps at a time,
screaming for someone, for anyone. And then I find myself in front of the door to the crypts. It’s
black inside, and I can see the steps spiraling down. Somehow I know I have to go down there,
but I don’t want to. I’m afraid of what might be waiting for me. The old Kings of Winter are
down there, sitting on their thrones with stone wolves at their feet and iron swords across their
laps, but it’s not them I’m afraid of. I scream that I’m not a Stark, that this isn’t my place, but it’s
no good, I have to go anyway, so I start down, feeling the walls as I descend, with no torch to
light the way. It gets darker and darker, until I want to scream.”
AGoT Bran
Finally he looked north. He saw the Wall shining like blue crystal, and his bastard brother Jon
sleeping alone in a cold bed, his skin growing pale and hard as the memory of all warmth fled
from him. And he looked past the Wall, past endless forests cloaked in snow, past the frozen
shore and the great blue-white rivers of ice and the dead plains where nothing grew or lived.
North and north and north he looked, to the curtain of light at the end of the world, and then
beyond that curtain. He looked deep into the heart of winter, and then he cried out, afraid, and
the heat of his tears burned on his cheeks.
(is the first part truly only about Jon feeling cold and lonely at the moment of Bran's vision, or does it foreshadow his death?)
AGoT Arya
Robb took them all the way down to the end, past Grandfather and Brandon and Lyanna, to show them their own tombs. Sansa kept looking at the stubby little candle, anxious that it might go out. Old Nan had told her there were spiders down here, and rats as big as dogs. Robb smiled when she said that. “There are worse things than spiders and rats,” he whispered. “This is where the dead walk.” That was when they heard the sound, low and deep and shivery. Baby Bran had clutched at Arya’s hand.
When the spirit stepped out of the open tomb, pale white and moaning for blood, Sansa ran shrieking for the stairs, and Bran wrapped himself around Robb’s leg, sobbing. Arya stood her ground and gave the spirit a punch. It was only Jon, covered with flour. “You stupid,” she told him, “you scared the baby,” but Jon and Robb just laughed and laughed, and pretty soon Bran and Arya were laughing too.
(by itself entirely innocent, but taken with the other stuff, it could have further significance, too)
ACoK Theon, after he becomes the Prince of Winterfell
That night he dreamed of the feast Ned Stark had thrown when King Robert came to Winterfell.
The hall rang with music and laughter, though the cold winds were rising outside. At first it was
all wine and roast meat, and Theon was making japes and eyeing the serving girls and having
himself a fine time... until he noticed that the room was growing darker. The music did not seem
so jolly then; he heard discords and strange silences, and notes that hung in the air bleeding.
Suddenly the wine turned bitter in his mouth, and when he looked up from his cup he saw that he
was dining with the dead.
King Robert sat with his guts spilling out on the table from the great gash in his belly, and Lord
Eddard was headless beside him. Corpses lined the benches below, grey-brown flesh sloughing
off their bones as they raised their cups to toast, worms crawling in and out of the holes that were
their eyes. He knew them, every one; Jory Cassel and Fat Tom, Porther and Cayn and Hullen the
master of horse, and all the others who had ridden south to King’s Landing never to return.
Mikken and Chayle sat together, one dripping blood and the other water. Benfred Tallhart and
his Wild Hares filled most of a table. The miller’s wife was there as well, and Farlen, even the
wildling Theon had killed in the wolfswood the day he had saved Bran’s life.
But there were others with faces he had never known in life, faces he had seen only in stone.
The slim, sad girl who wore a crown of pale blue roses and a white gown spattered with gore
could only be Lyanna. Her brother Brandon stood beside her, and their father Lord Rickard just
behind. Along the walls figures halfseen moved through the shadows, pale shades with long grim
faces. The sight of them sent fear shivering through Theon sharp as a knife. And then the tall
doors opened with a crash, and a freezing gale blew down the hall, and Robb came walking out
of the night. Grey Wind stalked beside, eyes burning, and man and wolf alike bled from half a
hundred savage wounds.
ASoS Jon
He dreamt he was back in Winterfell, limping past the stone kings on their thrones. Their
grey granite eyes turned to follow him as he passed, and their grey granite fingers tightened on
the hilts of the rusted swords upon their laps. You are no Stark, he could hear them mutter, in
heavy granite voices. There is no place for you here. Go away. He walked deeper into the
darkness. “Father?” he called. “Bran? Rickon?” No one answered. A chill wind was blowing on
his neck. “Uncle?” he called. “Uncle Benjen? Father? Please, Father, help me.” Up above he
heard drums. They are feasting in the Great Hall, but I am not welcome there. I am no Stark, and
this is not my place. His crutch slipped and he fell to his knees. The crypts were growing darker.
A light has gone out somewhere. “Ygritte?” he whispered. “Forgive me. Please.” But it was only
a direwolf, grey and ghastly, spotted with blood, his golden eyes shining sadly through the dark...
ADwD Theon
Lady Dustin’s serjeant raised the lantern. Shadows slid and shifted. A small light in a great
darkness. Theon had never felt comfortable in the crypts. He could feel the stone kings staring down at
him with their stone eyes, stone fingers curled around the hilts of rusted longswords. None had any love
for ironborn. A familiar sense of dread filled him.
“That king is missing his sword,” Lady Dustin observed.
It was true. Theon did not recall which king it was, but the longsword he should have held was
gone. Streaks of rust remained to show where it had been. The sight disquieted him. He had always
heard that the iron in the sword kept the spirits of the dead locked within their tombs. If a sword was
missing …
There are ghosts in Winterfell. And I am one of them.
The world is gone. King’s Landing, Riverrun, Pyke, and the Iron Islands, all the Seven Kingdoms,
every place that he had ever known, every place that he had ever read about or dreamed of, all gone.
Only Winterfell remained.
He was trapped here, with the ghosts. The old ghosts from the crypts and the younger ones that
he had made himself, Mikken and Farlen, Gynir Rednose, Aggar, Gelmarr the Grim, the miller’s wife
from Acorn Water and her two young sons, and all the rest. My work. My ghosts. They are all here, and
they are angry. He thought of the crypts and those missing swords.
ADwD Jon
Six centuries had come and gone since that night, but Hardhome was still shunned. The wild had
reclaimed the site, Jon had been told, but rangers claimed that the overgrown ruins were haunted by
ghouls and demons and burning ghosts with an unhealthy taste for blood.
(this interesting, because these ghosts are supposed to be fiery)
ADwD Melisandre
Snowflakes swirled from a dark sky and ashes rose to meet them, the grey and the white
whirling around each other as flaming arrows arced above a wooden wall and dead things shambled
silent through the cold, beneath a great grey cliff where fires burned inside a hundred caves. Then the
wind rose and the white mist came sweeping in, impossibly cold, and one by one the fires went out.
Afterward only the skulls remained.
Death, thought Melisandre. The skulls are death.
The flames crackled softly, and in their crackling she heard the whispered name Jon Snow. His
long face floated before her, limned in tongues of red and orange, appearing and disappearing again, a
shadow half-seen behind a fluttering curtain. Now he was a man, now a wolf, now a man again. But the
skulls were here as well, the skulls were all around him. Melisandre had seen his danger before, had
tried to warn the boy of it. Enemies all around him, daggers in the dark. He would not listen.
Unbelievers never listened until it was too late.
“What do you see, my lady?” the boy asked, softly.
Skulls. A thousand skulls, and the bastard boy again. Jon Snow.
TWoW Theon
She has to understand. She is my sister. He never wanted to do any harm to Bran or Rickon. Reek made him kill those boys, not him Reek but the other one. "I am no kinslayer," he insisted. He told her how he bedded down with Ramsay's bitches, warned her that Winterfell was full of ghosts. "The swords were gone. Four, I think, or five. I don't recall. The stone kings are angry."
I'd say there is definitely a theme. The dead Starks are represented as ice cold hateful wraiths, but other Northern Houses may have their quirks too.
The Boltons
- cold eyes of the color of dirty ice
- Ramsay hunts maidens through forrests in a manner similar to the Others' (according to Old Nan's tales)
- Roose's ageless appearance, obsession with healthy lifestyle and the mysterious book he burned at Harrenhal led some people to speculate he may be dabbling in magic to prolong his life (Ice preserves, while Fire consumes?)
- Roose's leeching himself regularly in order to rid himself off of bad blood - this may be significant in relation to all the blood-hating and blood-sucking mentioned above.
Also this:
The hearth was caked with cold black ash, the room unheated but for candles. Every time a door
opened their flames would sway and shiver. The bride was shivering too. They had dressed her in white
lambs-wool trimmed with lace. Her sleeves and bodice were sewn with freshwater pearls, and on her
feet were white doeskin slippers—pretty, but not warm. Her face was pale, bloodless.
A face carved of ice, Theon Greyjoy thought as he draped a fur-trimmed cloak about her
shoulders. A corpse buried in the snow. “My lady. It is time.” Beyond the door, the music called them,
lute and pipes and drum.
Blood is warm and life-giving, OTOH bloodlessness signifies death and cold.
The Dustins
TWoIaF mentions this:
The rusted crown upon the arms of House Dustin derives from their claim that they are themselves descended from the First King and the Barrow Kings who ruled after him. The old tales recorded in Kennet's Passages of the Dead claim that a curse was placed on the Great Barrow that would allow no living man to rival the First King. This curse made these pretenders to the title grow corpselike in their appearance as it sucked away their vitality and life. This is no more than legend, to be sure, but that the Dustins share blood and descent from the Barrow Kings of old seems sure enough.
The Dracula reference
- the Three Sisters - the three brides of Dracula, anyone? - lie within the Bite that is adjacent upon the Neck
So, what's your ideas? Did the Northmen of old dabble in the Ice magic? Do the Kings of Winter smell Jon's hot Valyrian blood and that is the true reason why they denounce him? And what after his resurrection - will he become more cold-hearted, vengenful, pale and even vampire-like? Maybe his Valyrian descent will help him to withstand the temptation and not follow the fate of the Night's King? What of the Winterfell dragon imagery? Where do you think GRRM is going with this, guys and gals?
Also, in the light of the above, Jon's "prophecy" of
"The longer you hide, the sterner the penance. You’ll be sewing all through winter. When the spring thaw comes,
they will find your body with a needle still locked tight between your frozen fingers."
may not mean at all that Arya will die. It could mean she will change drastically and grow vengenful and heartless and serve the god of Death, but she won't necessarily die herself.