On Sunday night, Game of Thrones hero Jon Snow opened his eyes, took a deep shuddering breath, and did exactly what so many viewers and book readers expected him to do: he came back from the dead. In doing so he made Westeros just a little bit more secure, as a potential line of defense against the encroaching White Walkers. But is what’s best for the citizens of Westeros what’s best for the series?

Doesn’t it feel a little . . . safe? Yes, this is a show that just saw a new mother and her infant son fed to a pack of bloodthirsty dogs, but there’s a significant difference between brutality and upending narrative conventions. Game of Thrones made its name doing the latter. The moment that Ned Stark lost his head was the moment George R.R. Martin’s books and HBO’s series defined themselves as a cut above the rest.

But when is the last time a character who was truly central to the Game of Thrones plot lost his or her life? Was it as long ago as Joffrey Baratheon (Season 4, Episode 2) or maybe Tywin Lannister (Season 4, Episode 10)? Oberyn Martell’s death (in Season 4, Episode 9) was a shock, but he was hardly a main character, just the newest, shiniest hero to arrive in King’s Landing. Some might argue that Stannis was central, but remember that Stephen Dillane wasn’t even cast until Season 2 and the character didn’t work his way into the hearts of audiences until Season 5. Just in time to make his death matter.

Shireen’s death was horrifying, but, once again, that had more to do with shock value than her role in the story. It’s the fate of the core cast—who are all named Stark, Lannister, or Targaryen—that carries the most weight. If Jon Snow had died and stayed down—and, just as important, if fans truly believed he would stay down in that long wait between seasons—the mutiny at Castle Black would have been an emotionally resonant moment in the vein of episodes like “Baelor” and “The Rains of Castamere.” Jon’s long-expected resurrection, if it plays out as simply as it seems to have, significantly changes the narrative stakes of the story to that of a much softer, safer tale.

This is not a case of a hit TV show being unwilling to let go of its darlings; this entire shift, from a world where any hero could die to one full of second chances, is entirely the work of George R.R. Martin. The deaths of Tywin, Joffrey, Oberyn, the Hound (maybe), Catleyn, and Robb Stark all took place in the third book, A Storm of Swords (2000). That novel is the last one most readers agree felt like a truly strong installment in A Song of Ice and Fire. The two subsequent books, A Feast for Crows and A Dance with Dragons, have essentially marked time while Arya and Bran Stark grow up, fast-forwarding through an adolescence Martin wanted to skip and padding out a story that was originally meant to be a trilogy. Unfortunately, the narrative has gotten a lot more conventional while we wait for those kids to grow, and the TV adaptation only continues to reveal how many stories from those books are ultimately irrelevant.

Jon Snow is one of a small knot of characters at the center of the saga that Martin has himself has indicated will make it to the end. One of the reasons book readers were sure, way back in 2011 when A Dance with Dragons was published, that Jon Snow would be coming back from the dead is that too much mythology had been built up around him. His parentage is important, he has an extraordinary weapon, he is destined for greatness. But doesn’t that seem like exactly the kind of expectation Game of Thrones once took delight in subverting?