STRANGER ━ Jon Snow

SIXTY THREE

Jon shook his head. "The closest weirwoods are too far from here, and who knows how long you'd be away. We don't have the time to wait around for your information, as much as that would be easier. The Night King is on the move, faster than ever."

"Perhaps another idea," Tyrion turned to Daenerys' wandering stare. "Cersei thinks the army of the dead is nothing but a story, made up by wet nurses to frighten children. What if we prove her wrong?"

"I don't think she'll come see the dead at my invitation," Jon added.

Tyrion walked forward, past Maia's chair. "So bring the dead to her."

Jon furrowed his brow. Maia felt her stomach churn with worry.

"I thought that was what we were trying to avoid," Daenerys said.

"You don't have to bring the whole army," Tyrion suggested. "Only one soldier."

Davos glanced to Jon. "Is that possible?"

Jon looked to his feet. He hesitated, choosing his words carefully as he reflected on his past. "First Wight I ever saw was brought into Castle Black from beyond the Wall."

"Bring one of these things down to King's Landing and show her the truth," Tyrion persuaded.

Maia bit at the bottom of her lip. This seemed like an extremely dangerous plan.

"Anything you bring back will be useless, unless Cersei grants us an audience," Varys argued, "and is somehow convinced not to murder us the moment we set foot in the Capital."

Tyrion stared off into the bright fire in the torches before him. "The only person she listens to is Jaime. He might listen to me."

Daenerys brought her hand forward. "And how would you get into King's Landing?"

All heads turned to the back of the room. "Ser Davos isn't known for smuggling onions for nothing," Maia muttered.

Davos sighed. "I can smuggle you in. But if the Gold Cloaks were to recognize you, I'm warning you. I'm not a fighter."

Tyrion nodded as Daenerys quipped, "But it will all be for nothing if we don't have one of these dead men."

"Fair point," Varys agreed. "How do you propose to find one?"

Jon's hand lingered on the table in front of him. His stare went to Maia, who watched him with her laced hands in front of her face. She shook her head silently at him. Maia Sanders had always been Jon Snow's little storm, but it was time for him to face the bringer of storms himself – the Night King.

"With the queen's permission, I'll go North and take one," Jorah spoke up. Daenerys viewed at him with worry. "You asked me to find a cure so I could serve you. Allow me to serve you."

Jon nodded his head towards Jorah. "The Free Folk will help us. They know the real North better than anyone."

"They won't follow Ser Jorah," Davos reminded.

"They won't have to." Jon replied quickly. "I'm going."

Maia closed her eyes for a moment. All thoughts came to her at once. The first time she found the weirwood tree in Washington. The first time she laid her eyes on Jon Snow. The first time he kissed her. The moment he was killed by his own Watch brothers. The time Melisandre had revealed she was the Traveler. When Jon asked to marry her. The day she found out she was having his bastard. Everything was happening, all at the same time, and she couldn't do anything about it. It was all leading up to this; to this moment.

"You can't lead a raid beyond the Wall." Davos said, after a moment of silence. "You're not in the Night's Watch anymore. You're King in the North."

"I'm the only one here who's fought them," Jon argued. "I'm the only one here who knows them."

Daenerys swallowed hard. "I haven't even given you permission to leave."

"With respect, Your Grace, I don't need your permission. I am a king." Jon replied, keeping his eyes trained on the dragon queen. "I came here, knowing you could have your men behead me or your dragons burn me alive. I put my trust in you – a stranger – because I knew it was the best chance for my people, for all our people. Now I'm asking you to trust in a stranger, because it is our best chance."

The room held no sounds, no echo. It was utterly quiet. Everyone sat back and thought to themselves, until someone finally spoke. Maia recognized the words she said once to Jon, and was proud of him for repeating them.

"You haven't asked my thoughts yet."

All stares turned to Maia, sitting in her chair at the middle of the table. She viewed at Jon with sadness, her eyes almost welling up with tears. Jon couldn't look away, and it physically pained him to see her with so much worry. "So," Davos coughed, "what are your thoughts, Lady Maia?"

"I say no," Maia replied quickly, tracing her fingers in the crevices of the Painted Table. Flashes of her dream appeared in the corner of her eyes. "Jon Snow is a king and should be treated as such. He needs to stay here and allow others to lead the raid. He must not put himself in harm's way yet again. This will not end the way we want to."

And as if time was repeating itself, Jon said to Maia, "You cannot ask that of me."

Maia looked up. "And yet, I am." She slammed her fist down on the table. "I won't let you do this."

"Maybe this conversation can be made private –" Tyrion suggested.

"Quiet," Maia seethed, glancing back to Jon. "Please, remind me, Your Grace – what happened the last time you did not listen to my predictions?"

Jon shook his head, hoping she wouldn't spit out the truth. "This is different."

"This is no different!" Maia exclaimed, standing up to face him. "This will be a repeat of what you said happened at Hardhome. I will not allow you to risk your life on a solution that Cersei Lannister won't even listen to." She stared at him angrily. "These are my thoughts, Jon Snow. Take them or leave it."

Before Jon could retort, Daenerys cleared her throat. "Perhaps you two can continue this behind closed doors?"

Maia and Jon sent each other one last glare before releasing a sigh. Maia looked to Daenerys at the head of the table and nodded at her request. She shouldn't have gotten so heated in front of everyone. Her affection and worry made her look like the odd one out.

"Meeting adjourned."