Work on their home began in earnest after Jon returned from trading in the village. He had and some of the other settled free folk agreed to share in the building of all of their houses, but they had decided to work on Jon's first since Dany was pregnant. She was showing now, when not wearing her heavy sheepskin clothes overtop her shirt and trousers.

"When you do wear them," Willa had said, "It just looks like you can't handle the cold and had to put more layers on. But it's okay, we all know you're from the South."

While Jon worked on building, Dany often spent time with Willa either at home in the clearing or in the village. Sometimes they went on walks together in the surrounding woods, foraging for winter plants Willa used in her healing and collecting materials Dany needed for the house.

In particular, quite set on having her real bed, Dany had worked on sewing the yards of cloth Jon had given her into a mattress which she had then stuffed with painstakingly chosen soft fir branches and layers of sheep's wool. She had also given Jon instructions to try hunting fowl as often as possible, and plucked every feather from the birds to save with a near-maniacal grin on her face.

As soon as she heard of Dany's plan for a feather bed, Willa pronounced her as delusional, but nonetheless began bringing Dany her own collections of feathers.

"It'll be ready to put in the house today," Dany proclaimed, tying off the last stitch on the mattress. It was unseasonably warm outside for the last few days, and she had taken off the sheepskin layer from her top as they outside sat at a crude table Jon had made for the time being.

"Does this mean I can stop plucking birds?" Willa asked, not looking up from the sun-dried plants she was peeling off the table.

Dany rolled her eyes. "If you must," she said dramatically, "I'll have enough feathers left to make the baby's bed before it comes." Willa grunted in acknowledgement, still peeling off leaves.

"Jon and I were talking about names last night," Dany told her, smiling at the memory. They hadn't gotten very far in the discussion aside from agreeing that they didn't want the baby named after anybody specific, but Dany had relished in the moments they had spent laying together in their little house dreaming of their child.

Willa looked up from her work. "Why?"

"Four or so more months isn't a very long time," Dany replied, hands coming to rest on her stomach, which fluttered in anticipation.

"No, why are you naming your baby? Free folk babies don't get names until they've made two years. It's bad luck."

Dany furrowed her brow. "Then what are you supposed to call them until then?" she asked.

Willa shrugged. "Something else," she said, "My tribe called me Little Bear. Said it was because I'm all brown."

"And then when you turned two they just started calling you Willa?"

"There was kind of a ceremony. My parents presented me to a weirwood tree near our home and announced my true name to the Old Gods," she explained, adding gravely, "Not all babies make it that far. Best to wait until you know they will."

Dany nodded, but did not answer her friend. Though she tried not to dwell on him, her thoughts had turned to Rhaego with Willa's story. The named baby who never breathed. Perhaps what Willa said was true. Perhaps choosing a name so early was bad luck. Despite the warm air, a chill had taken hold inside of Dany and she was still unable to shake it as she lay on the new mattress with Jon that night.

They had barely spoken since he got home, so tired from building in the village all day that after moving the mattress inside he had fallen right to sleep. Closing her eyes, she tried to will herself to remember something else, anything else, but did not know if it worked before she fell asleep.

Her dreams came in fitful flashes. A horse slain before her eyes. The lick of flames against her skin as a woman screamed. Shadowed dragon wings blocking out the sun. Icy water that churned with a coming storm. "Dany…" Pain low in her stomach as she collapsed in dust. Light glinting off a silver blade raised high to strike. "Dany…" The wail of a child that she could not reach.

"Dany...water…" Jon's voice brought Dany out of sleep. The world shimmered before her eyes, swaying as if she were looking through warped glass, and she felt sweaty and weak.

"Water…" Jon murmured again, "Please, Dany. Water…"

She turned to Jon, who was in bed next to her with a hand barely stretched out. His face was white, though tinged with fever, and a sheen of sweat coated him. She felt the heat radiating from him, but her own hands felt like she had left them in the sea again. He seemed to move in and out of focus before her, and his voice sounded far away.

"Dany…" he said weakly, "W...water…"

As if groping through a fog, Dany stood up off the mattress to fetch water from the barrel they kept inside. She stumbled, the world spinning around her, but caught herself on the wall and pulled her body upright on shaking legs.

"Water…"

Water, she repeated in her head. Shuffling her feet, she moved towards the barrel. It moved away from her. She stretched out her hand to catch it, but it moved even further out of reach.

"No…" she told it, "Stay…"

The house seemed to stretch out in front of her, further and further, until she stumbled again and fell at the base of the barrel.

"Water…" she murmured, trying to raise her arm. It felt as though someone had buried it under a mountain.

"W...water…"

The world closed in and she tried to gasp for air as the blackness suffocated her.

She was laying at the edge of a shore, feeling waves lap onto her toes as if they were pulling her towards the sea. The sun was warm and it felt as though butterflies were kissing her body. Dany could not think of a more perfect feeling. I could lie here forever.

This isn't home, a low voice in the back of her mind cautioned, Where's Jon? Then, after what seemed like an eon, Dany became aware that she was no longer pregnant. A chill came over her, driving out the warmth, and she realized that the little waves were silent.

Opening her eyes, Dany saw that the beach was bathed not in sun, but in white light so bright that only the shore and the line of clear water lapping at her were visible. It was nearly colorless. The light seemed to shimmer with little wings flapping through it, but as soon as she noticed that, the wings were disturbed and someone sat next to her: a brown-skinned woman in a white and blue dress. She was staring beyond, at what Dany imagined would be the rest of the sea if the light was not so bright. A soft smile played across the woman's kind face.

"It isn't time yet," Missandei said to Dany, whose heart wrenched at the sound of her sweet voice.

"You're here," Dany told her.

"I didn't want you to be alone."

Dany studied her, unable to reply but feeling as though she needed to commit every detail to memory even though she felt sure that they had forever to sit here together. A cold wind whispered at the back of Dany's neck, rustling her hair as if to disagree with her surety. For a second, she thought she could hear someone far away calling her name. A man's voice. Missandei smiled.

"You'll be okay," her friend said, though her voice seemed more distant somehow, though they were still sitting together. It scared Dany and she desperately tried to will the wind to stop and give her more time to sit here. The far off man's voice called her name again, stronger. She smelled forest and fire and cold earth even though there was no source for the scents to be coming from on the white shoreline.

Shimmering light began to overtake Missandei, making it look as if she were glowing. Trying not to blink as the light got even brighter, Dany urgently searched for the words she wanted to say to her friend, now knowing that they did not have eternity to sit together.

"Missandei," she managed to say. For the first time, it seemed that Missandei was going to look at her.

Then she heard the voice - Jon's voice - calling out to her again, "Dany!" and, turning to the sound, she blinked. She was no longer in the bright light, but saw familiarly kind, golden eyes and the handle of a ladle. A cool hand held the back of her head, and water flowed from the ladle to Dany's mouth.

"Missandei?" she breathed after drinking.

"Willa," came the answer, "Don't get up."

Dany's eyes and senses began to focus and she realized she was in her house, laying on the bed with Ghost at her side. She felt as though she had just been submerged in a hot bath: her clothes were sticking to her skin. Willa was knelt over her, now dabbing a damp cloth onto Dany's forehead.

"Wh-where's Jon?" Dany croaked. Why had he been shouting? The very effort of speaking seemed to sap what little energy she felt.

"Outside," she answered errantly, "I sent him out to get some air. He was restless."

"And the -"

"Your baby is fine, Dany," Willa told her, still dabbing the cloth at her forehead, "I've listened every day to make sure. Now quiet, you need to rest."

Relief washed over her, though it only seemed to make her more tired. Dany fought to remain conscious, desperate to know more. "Wh -"

Willa stopped dabbing to regard Dany with a sharp look. "There's been sickness all over. You and Jon had it. I came a week ago to check on you after the first case happened in the village and found you collapsed near the water barrel and Jon deliriously shouting your name. You nearly died," she said harshly, though her voice cracked on the last word and she paused before adding, "Now hush. Rest."

Weakly, Dany reached to thread her fingers through Ghost's fur as Willa resumed dabbing her forehead. Her eyes closed and she slept blankly.

It was three more days before she was able to get out of bed. Determined for Dany to have cold, fresh air and to let the house air out the stale smell of sickness, Willa enlisted the help of a near-fully recovered Jon to help Dany up onto unsteady legs and lead her outside to sit by the table.

The air was cold, Dany could see her breath unfurl in wafts, but she noticed that there was less snow in the clearing.

"Now, just...don't move for a few hours," Willa said, backing away slowly and then turning to leave. Satisfied with Jon being well enough to care for both of them, Willa was returning to the village under a promise that she would be by to check on them tomorrow.

She left them in a frosty silence, Jon brooding as he and Dany watched Ghost dig holes in the snow looking for small rodents. They had barely spoken since Dany regained consciousness. Several times, she caught Jon looking at her as if she were going to fall to pieces.

Ghost's rodent quest was successful and he bounded back over to the table, skinny mouse in his mouth, to proudly display his prize by dropping it in Dany's lap and sitting back on his haunches.

"You enjoy it," she told Ghost, pushing the dead mouse towards him, "I'm not that hungry." The white wolf whined, but took the mouse and settled at Dany's feet to have his snack.

"He loves you," Jon said suddenly, "He pined - howled a lot - when he couldn't be near you. When Willa kept him outside."

Dany smiled, scratching the direwolf on his big head. "I love him too," she replied.

Jon didn't respond, but continued to brood. Watching him took Dany's smile away.

"It's not fair of you to be angry with me," she told him, frustration bubbling inside her.

Jon's brow furrowed and he turned to look at her. "Angry?" he asked her incredulously, "I'm not angry, Dany."

"You're doing a pretty good impression of it," she fired back hotly.

He gave one note of a mirthless laugh, fixing her with an intense gaze that nearly made Dany wince. "You wouldn't wake up, Dany," he told her, "I was calling you and calling you, and you never answered. I couldn't even go to you. I thought you were dead. I thought… I thought my family was gone. I'm not angry, I just feel...useless."

As he spoke, his eyes went red. He blinked as if to restore them back and in doing so, Dany watched as a tear slid down his cheek. Reaching up, she brushed it away and held her hand there. The feelings in her from seconds ago evaporated as quickly as they had come.

Dany smiled tenderly. "I heard you, Jon," she told him, "I came back for you."

Curiously, Jon regarded her as if trying to decide that what she said was either real or just to make him feel better.

"When I wasn't awake, I was somewhere else. It was perfect. I didn't feel anything." Straining, she tried to think of how to describe it, but could not seem to find a word. Her mind felt cloudy and distant when she tried to visualize the place, as if she was no longer allowed to see it. She could have sworn someone else had been there with her before she had woken up, but could only remember Willa's face and the ladle at her lips.

"But it was wrong," she finally continued, settling on simply not explaining, "I knew you weren't there. And the baby was gone. I wanted to feel something again. But I also wanted to stay so badly. And then...I heard you. You called out my name. And, when I blinked, I was back."

Jon nodded, listening to her story finish. He had stopped brooding, his eyes seemed to process what he just heard.

Without warning, he pulled Dany into a gentle embrace and she felt him relax as he breathed deeply. "You came back," he murmured into her hair.

"I won't leave again," she promised, "I could never leave you."