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LISTEN WHILE READING: "SATURN" - SLEEPING AT LAST
"IT'S time to go, Your Grace."
Daenerys pretended as if she didn't hear Jorah's words. She stood on the battlements of the Wall, waiting to see Jon and Maia sprint of the woods on a steed. She laced her hands together and swallowed hard. "A bit longer," she replied.
She shouldn't have left them there. Why had she listened to the others? Jon had been pulled beneath the water, and Maia had been speared by a White Walker. They had chance for survival, but Daenerys left them. This was an act of betrayal. She felt so stupid, so careless. She left them to die. How could she?
Daenerys bit her lip as she began to turn on her heel. When her back was fully turned, a horn sounded from the tops of the Wall. Daenerys and Jorah immediately looked back, peering over the edge of the Wall. A black horse approached the Wall quickly, and it almost looked like an ant from all the way at the top. Daenerys thought she could see two people on the horse, but her eyes were deceiving her. She hurried off to meet with the guests as the gate opened.
When they all met with the tired man on the horse below, Daenerys realized it was Jon. The King in the North survived, but wasn't too well. He held the bloodied body of a woman in his arms, and when Daenerys got close, she blinked back her own tears. He held the corpse of Maia Sanders.
Davos helped Jon down from the horse, careful not to disturb his figure. Jon had trouble keeping his eyes open, but he clutched Maia's body so tightly that Davos fought to take her away. When Davos' eyes caught sight that it was Maia, he held Jon up slightly, afraid to drop him. "Your Grace," he whispered, "is ... is that –?"
"Write to a maester," Jon croaked in a dazed voice. "Write to a Red Priestess."
Daenerys slowly approached the two, though she barely considered Jon alive at the moment. Jon held Maia close to his face, staining his cheek with blood. "I don't believe that is wise," she said. "We must leave now. We cannot wait for more guests."
"No!" Jon exclaimed, his vision wearing thin as he began to stalk off. "They ... they must revive her!"
Davos knew he was going in hysterics. Jon limped off in the snow, but struggled to keep his pace. He ended up tripping over his own feet and fell to the ground, but kept Maia's already-damaged head safe from the impact. Tears pricked at his eyes once again as he whispered, "We'll get you back, Maia. We'll get you back."
Davos glanced to Daenerys for a moment. "He's going mad."
It took as much as Jon finally fainting to retrieve Maia's body from his grasp. Freya Greyjoy took the body as Davos brought Jon onto one of the ships to travel to King's Landing. He was given his own cabin, where Davos stripped him of his wools and applied medication to his infected wounds. Freya placed Maia's corpse in a small boat full of hay, sitting on the ship itself as they planned for a burial.
Daenerys viewed at Maia's body in the hay for quite some time. Blood crusted over the wound to her stomach, as her dress was cut open. The top of her head and hands were stained red. Her mouth hung slightly opened with frost stuck to her blue lips. Her eyes – those pretty, golden eyes Daenerys had first noticed – were glossed over as they were stuck open forever. Daenerys swore that she saw frozen tears encrusted on the corpse's cheeks. Freya Greyjoy laid her calloused hand on the dragon queen's shoulder, and Daenerys sighed at the comforting gesture.
She then watched Davos take care of Jon's healing body. Daenerys stared at the several stab wounds that lingered along his torso, knowing that this was a sight only Maia once saw, and it made the dragon queen feel guilty. Jon slept soundlessly as Daenerys stared with curious eyes. As Davos was about to leave, she grabbed his arm quickly. All she had to do was look at the Onion Knight for him to respond.
"He will be in denial for days," Davos muttered, "possibly even years. She was with him for a very long time. Treated him like no other. A rare woman indeed. She was ... everything he ever wanted."
Daenerys swallowed hard. "She came because she wanted to save him. I didn't think it would end this way."
"Perhaps she did just that," Davos replied. "He's alive. She saved him."
•••
It took Jon a few days to be able to walk around again. Like Davos had predicted, he was in denial over the ordeal, and had requested Daenerys to send a raven to the closest Red Priestess to King's Landing. They each denied every request to revive Maia, for they knew it would be no good. Jon had become a different person once he was revived, and Maia would be no different in her case. And also, Davos wasn't one to put his trust into a Red Priestess. He wouldn't allow it.
Jon didn't want to watch the burial. He wanted to live in denial for the rest of his life, or maybe just pretend like Maia Sanders never existed so things would seem better. But he could never forget her, nor could he forget the way her body looked in that boat full of hay. They lowered the small boat in the Narrow Sea as they docked their ship on the way to King's Landing. Jon watched from over the railing of the ship with Davos and Daenerys standing on both of his sides. His eyes went narrow as the boat began to float onward into the ocean, and he quickly grabbed a lit torch.
Davos took Maia's bow and arrow, gifted to her from Daenerys, from Jon's quarters. He placed one of the dragonglass arrows on the bow, and Jon lit the end of it aflame. Davos readied the bow carefully before launching the arrow into the air, allowing it to land right in the middle of the boat. Due to the hay Maia's body sat in, the boat when up in flames.
The blaze was small and dark, but Jon kept his eyes trained on the boat for much longer than he needed to. Daenerys needed to walk away for space, as well as Davos, but neither of them could ever understand what Jon felt.
Maybe Maia had been right. Maybe she had fulfilled her purpose, but the Traveler had to stand by the Prince Who Was Promised through the Great War. Jon didn't particularly think of himself as this title, but nonetheless, she had to be there. Although, maybe the Wight Attack had been the Great War for her. Maybe the only way for him to win this war was for him to go at it alone, without her help, and that was the hardest realization for him to bear.
It hurt him to know that he'd never be able to see her shining eyes again, or twisted smirk. He would never be able to watch the snow fall down on her light hair. He wouldn't be able to kiss her again, or make love to her. He wouldn't ever be able to see their child. His life was barren without Maia Sanders. His personal storm left, along with his heart.
But, in the back of his mind, Jon knew that she would despise him for mourning for so long. She would tell him to suck it up, and that there were worse things than grieving over a woman whom he wasn't married to. This was the second time a lover of Jon's had died by his hands, but he felt lucky to have a small taste of Maia in his life for the time she was here.
It was her destiny to come to Westeros. Once she was a stranger, and then a Traveler. Jon wasn't known to take risks, but he did with Maia. They accepted each other for their flaws and lies. They helped each other through thick and thin. They loved each other more than anyone knew. Jon would have died for Maia, and she for him.
In the end, as Jon stared at the flames that engulfed the boat, Maia Sanders had saved Jon Snow. They both, together, would bring the dawn to Westeros, even with her in the afterlife. Jon would fight for his world to start anew, and all because he fell in love with a stranger.
And as the fiery boat floated to the edge of the sea, Jon whispered, "Long live the Traveler."
