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SOMETIMES when Maia really couldn't sleep, she'd find herself curling close to Jon's snoring form and wrapping her arms underneath his. Jon was a heavy sleeper; he wouldn't wake up even when she moved his arms. This, honestly, was the only way to help her fall asleep. She would sink her head against the feather pillows and listen to his soft snores. His stubble would tickle her forehead, but Maia would feel content.
In her late hours of restlessness and guilt, Maia did this same routine. Her hands hesitantly clutched the end of her stomach, feeling nothing. She wondered so much about the child at night – if it was a boy or girl, what Jon would think of it, what they would name it, if it would have his same surname. She let the guilt clog her mind.
On this night, she could hear a dragon or two screech. Maia swung her arms around Jon's, relishing in his warmth. Even the sound of the waves outside their open window couldn't help her. Only Jon could, and it was finally then that she dreamed.
She was in the snow again. Deep within the mountains and piles of it. Maia pushed herself from the snow, digging her hands in the ice, but she felt no cold. Her hands were covered with Jon's gloves. Her fur cloak kept her warm, but it did nothing against the wind smacking flakes on her face. Maia pulled her hood up, though it was no use.
When she looked up at the sky, all she saw was white. There were no clouds. No sun. Not even a night-time sky. She saw the blank canvas that was a winter sky. Maia hugged her arms around herself as snowflakes brushed over her eyelashes and the wind began to push her in all directions. She turned around.
Blue eyes. That was all she saw. An army of dead men, frost and rotten skin clinging to their forms. Thousands of glowing, blue eyes staring at her. They didn't move, only stared. There were too many of them. She didn't want to count the numbers. Some stood; some sat on top of horses, in the same condition as them; one was even riding a giant ice-spider. All un-moving, which was the scariest part.
A scream rose in her throat, but she kept it in. Maia only stared back at them. She didn't know what to do. She didn't know if she could run away, or if they would catch her. She couldn't fathom if this was even a dream or not. It seemed too real.
"MAIA!"
Her name was suddenly being called from all angles. It was echoing in her ears. A dozen different voices calling her name, but only one was the most prominent: Jon's. She heard Jon scream her name every second. She heard an infant's wailing as well. And then she felt the quaking.
From the background of the White Walkers stood the Wall, and Maia was surprised she hadn't even seen it. The ground began to shake. Bits of ice dropped quickly down from the seven-hundred-foot wall. It crumbled slowly as the band of Wights watched her expression turn blank. Maia held her hands over her ears, trying to silence both the Wall and the screams lodging themselves in her ears. She fell to her knees again.
