CHAPTER 38 | INTERPRETING SIGNS

"IF he was smart, he'd stay inside the walls of Winterfell and wait us out."

Maia threw a log into the already small fire before taking her seat next to Sansa. Jon, Ser Davos, and Tormund hunched over a large map, pointing to specific spots they could build a course. It was already dark, the only light outside coming from the moon shining down on their camp. Maia looked to Sansa, noticing the girl was shaking her head as the men talked. She noticed Maia's staring instantly, and whispered, "He's doing exactly what Ramsay wants. It'll be his downfall."

"You should tell him that." Maia replied in a hushed tone, tapping the red-head's hand.

Back at the table, Davos eyed the map suspiciously. "That's not his way. He knows the North is watching. If the other houses sense weakness on his part, they'll stop fearing him. He can't have that. Fear is his power."

Jon lined up the stones on the table, so that one side represented Ramsay's army and the other was his. He matched up the amounts accurately, with Ramsay having more stones. "It's his weakness too." He responded.

"Both of you must know," Maia spoke up as all eyes in the room cast to her, "Ramsay's not afraid of anything. From my ten minutes with him, I can already tell he's not afraid to die." Sansa nodded next to her.

Jon frowned. "His men don't want to fight for him. They're forced to fight for him. If they feel the tide turning ..."

"It's not his men that worry me. It's his horses." Tormund admitted, looking at Davos. "I know what mount the knights can do to us. You and Stannis cut through us like piss through snow."

"We're digging trenches all along our flanks. They won't be able to hit us like Stannis hit you." Jon advised the Wildling. "It will be a double envelopment."

Tormund leaned back, furrowing his brow. Maia remembered learning war tactics like these in her history classes from high school. The double envelopment method was used in some of the greatest wars in U.S. history.

"A pincer-move." Jon noticed his confusion. The Wildling still wasn't getting it as Jon glanced at Davos. "They won't be able to hit us from the sides."

Tormund nodded. "Good."

"It's crucial that we let them charge at us," Davos mused, causing Maia to look up. "They've got the numbers. We need the patience."

Maia stood, surprising Sansa when she approached the table. "It's a battle. I know shit about war, but I do know that things go wrong on a number of occasions. What if Jon –" she moved one of the Stark stones forward "– charges first?"

"He won't," the Onion Knight countered, moving the stone back. "If we let Ramsay buckle our center, he'll pursue. We'll have him surrounded on three sides."

"Did you really think that cunt would fight you man to man?" Tormund asked lowly to his friend beside him.

Jon looked up, shaking his head. "No, but I wanted to make him angry."

Sansa lofted a brow from her spot in the corner. If anyone had a place to say anything in this meeting, it was her. Maia pinched the bridge of her nose.

"I want him coming at us full tilt." Jon then said, turning back to Davos.

Ser Davos nodded. "We should all get some sleep."

"Rest, Jon Snow. No funny business with your woman tonight." Tormund chuckled softly. "We need you sharp tomorrow."

"I'm not his woman." Maia scoffed with a roll of her eyes. Tormund shook her shoulder in response, thinking that this female may have the mind of a Wildling.

The two other men filed out, but Maia noticed Sansa staying in her spot. She knew the red-head wanted to talk to her brother. Jon sat down in his chair and Maia walked over, kissing his cheek. "I'll meet you in the tent."

Jon was suddenly reminded of what he wanted to talk with her that night, knowing that this time was as perfect as he was going to get. He had been putting it off for too long. He grasped her arm before she could leave, advising, "Stay awake. I have something to ask you."

•••

Maia didn't noticed Jon walk behind her as she stared at the bonfire, neglecting sleep. She didn't see him wander. She didn't see him almost shed a tear. She didn't even witness him slip into Melisandre's tent. She was too lost in her own mind – in the flames before her – until she heard him speak.

"My Lady," he greeted the witch.

Maia moved closer to Melisandre's tent, watching her stare into the cup of fire next to her. Her tent was lit with candles as she sat in the middle of it, a wooden chair placed under her. As it usually was these days, her hair was unkempt, thrown into a messy style. It had been long since that time she threw herself at Jon, and Maia knew there was no bad blood between them, but she couldn't help but grow worried at their topic of conversation.

"You weren't at the war council," he said.

Melisandre took in a deep breath. "I'm not a soldier."

"Neither is Sansa, or Maia." He tried to smile, but found it hard. "Any advice?"

She gave him a hint of a smirk. "Don't lose."

Their eyes turned to the fire in front of her, and Jon found himself being drawn into the color of it. He needed any kind of distraction at this point, which Maia thought to be odd. "If I do – if I fall," he muttered, "don't bring me back."

Maia gripped the edge of the tent's fabric tightly. He couldn't be asking her to do that. Jon Snow was her purpose in this world. He was her reason to travel.

"I'll have to try." Melisandre tried to reason.

"I'm ordering you not to bring me back."

She shook her head. "I'm not your servant, Jon Snow."

"You're in my camp. I'm the Commander."

"I serve the Lord of Light." She uttered with a sigh. "I do what He commands."

Jon narrowed his eyes. "How do you know what He commands?"

She didn't know what to say. "I ... interpret his signs ... as well as I can."

Maia shook her head from outside the tent. Her mind begged for Melisandre not to fall for Jon's words.

"If the Lord didn't want me to bring you back, how did I bring you back?" The witch questioned. "I have no power – only what He gives me, and He gave me you."

Jon paused. "Why?"

"I don't know," she frowned. "Maybe you're only needed for this small part of His plan and nothing else. Maybe He brought you here to die again."

Jon stared into the flames, watching the colors – yellow, orange, and a hint of blue – mix together. "What kind of God would do something like that?"

"The one we've got."

The commander nodded at her words. He did not believe in her God, but the way she spoke of him either urged him to or made him move farther away. Their eyes connected again, and she pointed to him. "If there's anything I do know, it's that you are part of Lady Maia's destiny. I know of everything – she told me. We are the only two who know she is the Traveler, and this is because her path lies with you – to help you – but not in the way that you think."

His brow furrowed. "What are you asking of me?"

Maia stopped looking and leaned her back against the tent. She could just hear Melisandre's sigh as she spoke, "I'm asking you not to marry her."

The blonde's breath caught in her throat. "What?" She whispered, but it wasn't heard over the wind and snow. No, there was no way. Maia and Jon hadn't known each other for long, but it seemed like they had. It wasn't the time, nor the place, though she couldn't deny that when two people are irrevocably in love, nothing was in vain.

"How do you know about that?" He asked.

Melisandre didn't answer, continuing her stare into the fire. "If you're the one in the prophecy, trust me when I say that you don't want to marry her. I believe you are the Prince Who Was Promised, but I hope Maia does not become your Nissa Nissa."

Jon walked out of the Red Woman's tent, but not before Maia sprinted from the scene, dark thoughts and prophecies protruding her mind.

•••

A/N: Thank you guys for all the nominations on GOTAWARDS's Game of Thrones Awards book! Y'all honestly didn't have to do it but I appreciate all of you so much ❤️ Especially those who voted me for Best Author! To know that people actually really like my writing is so heartwarming. Love you guys 💕

Also!!!!!! To find out more about Travelers and their backstory, please visit the appendix!