CHAPTER 15 | ANOTHER FEELING

MAIA wasn't spoken to about King Stannis' decision to capture Winterfell, but she was hardly ever told anything to begin with.

She stood outside next to Gilly and Sam, watching the men ready themselves to fight in their proper garb. Maia hugged her cloak closer to her chest and awaited the arrival of Jon. She knew he was preparing to sail for Hardhome soon, and she had been trying her hardest to convince him to do otherwise, but she doubted he would listen to her. In this world, she was only a woman.

She glanced up to see Shireen hopping onto her horse, grasping the reins firmly in her gloved hands. She realized she would miss the small girl as she approached her horse, relishing in her young beauty and future ahead. She knew that if anyone in her wretched family was destined for greatness, it would be her.

"I'm going to miss you, Lady Shireen." Maia smiled to the girl. "Promise me you'll return?"

She nodded. "Who else will I be able to discuss my stories with?" She joked, causing both of them to laugh. The child suddenly leaned down low to Maia's ear. "Don't let them push you around here. You and Gilly are the only ones who can influence these boys greatly."

Maia grinned softly when Shireen had moved away. For such a young girl, she knew what was right. She had seen more in her few years than anyone else.

"I think that is enough small talk, Lady Sanders." Selyse Baratheon advised from behind. "We are to leave soon."

"Goodbye to you too," Maia muttered under her breath while walking away.

The blonde went back to her spot by Sam and Gilly, noticing the way the Baratheon mother shunned her daughter from waving to the people beside her. Maia raised a brow. There was something about Selyse that didn't feel right, and she knew that from the moment she said hello and the Queen simply ignored her.

Maia's eyes finally rested on Jon parading throughout the grounds of the courtyard. He was seen on the deck of Castle Black, ending a conversation with a gruff-looking Stannis Baratheon, who took a double-take at her as he passed. The King stopped his steps to stand in front of the blonde once again.

"Thanks for not murdering me in my sleep like others predicted," he said, not one hint of humor.

Maia smirked. "Forgive me, but I never planned on it, Your Grace."

He nodded before striding away to his horse. Maia gave a wave to her friends and began to make her way up the wooden stairs to the deck where Jon was placed. She sauntered slowly, careful not to disturb his presence. The Lord Commander noticed her coming though, for he could sense her beauty from a mile away.

He savored the way the cold caused her cheeks and nose to flush a bright red. The way the snow fell on top of her already light hair allowed her to blend in with winter itself, for she was the human embodiment of a storm. She was the heavy hail during a blizzard. She was laughter heard over thunder. Her touch was like breathing – simple and graceful. But her kiss – oh, her kiss – it was like feeling snowflakes adorn your skin for the first time.

Sometimes, Jon realized he barely knew anything about the woman he was so unmorally infatuated with, but in this cruel world that they were damned to live in, she seemed to be the only thing that gave him joy, even behind closed doors. He liked to believe she was perfect, but truthfully, she was far from it. Maia Sanders was stubborn and slightly rude. She had crinkles under her eyes and slurs in her teeth. Not to mention, he was pretty sure she was keeping a lot secrets from him, but he just needed to figure out what.

Jon always fell for the women who would soon destroy him: Ygritte was the fire, and now Maia was the storm.

He need not look in her direction as she stood to his right, hand stroking his back in comfort and so no one else could see. Maia squinted from the snowflakes falling in her eyes, questioning, "Why is he leaving?"

"He's going to take Winterfell. He couldn't wait no longer." Jon watched the army create a riding stance. "They're not going to win."

Maia looked at him, brow furrowed. "And why is that?"

"You know who maintains Winterfell at the moment, correct?" He asked, and when she shook her head, he continued. "The Boltons, and they'll slaughter him. They've done the same to many others."

Stannis had planned to siege Winterfell, she remembered Derek's words so clearly in her head. He was an idiot not to think the Boltons wouldn't know. Ramsay – the craziest fucking guy ever – and his army met them in an open field and charged. Stannis' army was completely defeated, but sadly, Ramsay and his army didn't kill him. Brienne of Tarth did, a.k.a. the most bad ass chick ever. She killed him for when he killed his own brother in the past, who Brienne served. She chopped his head right off and – let me tell you, it was awesome.

"You're right," Maia nodded. "He's not going to win."

Jon glanced towards her. "Another feeling?"

"Another feeling."

He looked to his feet, hands falling behind his cloak so one could clasp her left. Maia smiled at the gesture, but was nervous of any wandering eyes regardless. His digits ran over her own, causing him to whisper, "I'm having another feeling too."

•••

Derek's suitcase lay untouched by his bedside. He hadn't bathed in days and he only managed to move to get himself another beer, no matter what time of the day it was.

He had returned from Washington weeks ago and called the police department there every day, but his ability was slowly deteriorating to once every week. The worst was canceling the wedding, and hearing his family sob over the terrible luck. Maia had never really talked to her own family since she moved out, at least that's what she told him, and when he called their landline to tell them of the news, he got no answer.

He didn't know what to do with himself. It had been months since Maia's disappearance, so should he just presume her dead? Derek learned from the news that disappearances that went longer than a month were usually murders, but he didn't want to believe it.

What he thought to happen was, essentially, a lie. Derek would never suspect his fiancé to have fallen into the world of his favorite television show. He would never suspect her to forget about him, and he most definitely wouldn't have expected her to fall in love with someone else.

Maybe she was as good as dead.

He realized he had been staring at his television mindlessly, not knowing what was being broadcasted. Derek slowly reached over to his bedside table to pick up his phone. He dialed the number that he knew from memory, someone he hadn't called in weeks. He smelled his shirt, which reeked of an unholy stink.

The ringing continued for the longest minute of his life, but he waited, drumming his fingers on his leg. Soon, he reached the voicemail:

"Hello, you've reached Maia Sanders. I can't get to my phone right now, but please leave your name and number after the beep!"

Her sweet, caring voice echoed in his ears. Derek felt tears welling up in his eyes as he called the number again, and again, and again until he wanted to feel his ears bleed. Why did this have to happen to him? To her? Had he never appreciated her enough? He was sure he had, because of the state he was in now. He was crying over a gone girl who was probably dead.

Truthfully, she wasn't yet. But she would be if she stayed at Castle Black, because winter was coming.

•••

A/N: The social media fic that will go along with this is up! It's about the Kit Harington (who all know plays Jon) and Dianna Agron (the actress I use as Maia's face claim). It'll be a fairly short, little book, but I hope you guys will enjoy it and edits I make. It's titled "Native," so go check it out now!