CHAPTER 35 | A MESSAGE

MAIA kicked the air as two men lifted her from the ground, dragging her across the mud. She heard Rickon screaming her name while they pulled her from the Winterfell dungeon. She looked around, witnessing every area in the courtyard of Winterfell coated in Bolton banners. Different merchants and children begged for those around to buy their crops. Every inch of this place was filled with despair.

This was real. This was happening. Ramsay Bolton had total control.

The gates to Winterfell opened as Ramsay ordered his guards, "Throw her out." The men shrugged, immediately tossing the blonde into the mud when the entrance fully opened. "Don't forget about my message, Lady Maia!"

Maia lifted her head, mud and soot sliding down her face as she responded, "FUCK YOU!"

The doors closed instantaneously.

Maia hadn't noticed Ser Davos on his horse in front of the gates when she had fallen into the wet dirt. She looked up at the Onion Knight, witnessing a couple Wildling men behind him. Davos then knelt before her, smothering his pants with mud, and breathed out a heavy sigh. Maia couldn't stop herself from crying then, tears mixing with the sweat and soot on her face. She struggled with keeping the top of her dress closed, but in that moment, modesty meant nothing to her. "Lady Sanders," Davos shook his head and tried wiping away all that coated her features.

"He's terrible," she sobbed. "He's such a fucking, evil being."

Davos hoisted her up by her shoulders. "Did he ..." His eyes searched her, noticing every piece of clothing was not in tact. "Did he touch you?"

She nodded her head, slowly but he noticed it.

Ser Davos tilted her cheek, noticing a large bruise forming across the bone. The Wildlings behind him took a step closer when he looked over his shoulder at them. "Gather the horses together. We're leaving for Deepwood Motte."

•••

The ride wasn't too long of a journey. Maia hung her arms around Davos' waist as he rode their group slightly South. The land of Deepwood Motte wasn't exactly colder, but a lot more windy, Maia noticed. She lifted her head when Ser Davos said they were near, noticing the familiar color of bright red hair leaving the gates that adorned a large fist sigil: the symbol of House Glover.

Her face was hidden by Davos' cloak that he draped over her, but even twenty feet away, Jon saw her glowing features. He had been disappointed in House Glover's actions to not back them in a fight, though not as disappointed as Sansa was. But then the two siblings witnessed Ser Davos' arrival, and their spirits lifted. Sansa's plan had worked.

The Onion Knight was only a few feet away from the relatives and their army, but Jon was already running. Davos' horse halted to a short stop, allowing Jon to immediately pick Maia off the animal so she could fall into his arms. Her arms tightened around his as she felt the tears begin to form again. The muscles in her biceps gave her the strength to hold him with every fiber of her being. He held the back of her head, causing her to shelter it in the crook of his neck. She breathed him in, enjoying the smell of musk and snow instead of crusted blood.

"Thank the Gods," he breathed into her hair. Jon slowly let her feet touch the ground and brushed strands of blonde from her face. His hands cupped her cheeks as he stared into her tired eyes, before realizing the blue and purple bruise right under her lid. He noticed the cloak was coming undone and he witnessed her bareness with torn fabric falling at her sides. "Did he do this to you?"

Maia suddenly felt small under his heated gaze. He was so dreadfully angry. She couldn't speak, nor did she want to.

"I'm going to strangle that Ramsay Bolton –" Jon snarled under his breath, dragging Maia by her arm to his horse, before Sansa shoved him back. She gave him one, single-handed look that said, Don't even try.

The red-headed sister then wrapped her arms around Maia, rubbing circles into the blonde's back. "He will never hurt you again." Sansa whispered into her ear. "He will never touch us again."

Maia's head lifted to look at the two step-siblings. "I spoke with Rickon," she smiled softly, despite the circumstances they were all in. "He knows. I told him we're coming."

Sansa smiled at her brother, a look of satisfaction engulfing her features. Ser Davos slowly approached the three and offered his condolences to Maia before muttering, "Ramsay said you had a message, Lady Sanders. Do you mind telling?"

Maia swallowed the lump in her throat and looked at her hands. Jon's arm instinctively wrapped around her torso, pulling her close, as he replied, "Give her some time."

•••

The army made a stop at a tavern close to the place of encampment that evening, almost filling the entire pub. The owners said their place hadn't been that full in ages, and thanked Jon and Sansa immensely while serving plates upon plates of food.

Maia wasn't hungry, regardless of not eating for more than twenty hours. She sat in front of the tavern's fireplace, her fingers wrapped around a tall glass of ale. She sipped it occasionally as her eyes danced around the flames before her. She was given a new dress from Sansa, but Maia hated that she was now unaccustomed to feeling the wind hit her breasts in an uncomfortable way.

After sucking down a bowl of hearty chowder, Jon walked over to kneel by his lady. He took a moment to stare at the fire before asking, "How're you feeling?"

"I'm not as cold." She shrugged, bringing the cloak around her again. "But then again, I think I'm still reeling from finding out that I'm not only a Traveler, my last name is apparently from an old appointed house that was wiped out after siding with the Targaryens in Robert's Rebellion – oh, and not to mention, I was kidnapped by a man who assaulted me."

Jon stared at his hands during her rant that was laced with sarcasm. He guessed Ramsay told the bit of information of her supposed house, because he surely knew nothing about it. "Look at me."

Maia's eyes slowly raised, meeting his dark ones. He reached out and grabbed her hands. She immediately retracted them, firmly gripping his fingers in her own on impulse. For a split second, she thought of Ramsay: his hands; all over her. "Remember, Lady Maia," he had said, and so she would.

Jon looked from her grasp to her eyes, watching them slowly come to the realization of what she was doing. "Sorry," she whispered, allowing their digits to lace again. The blonde then relished in the feel of his soft, cold hands, feeling his fingertips caress the scabs across her knuckles. Jon leaned close, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. Maia closed her lids and breathed out a sigh of relief.

"I'm going to kill him, Maia." He breathed against her skin, causing her eyes to suddenly open. "I'm going to kill him with my own, bare hands."

She lightly pushed him away. "You're not the only one who gets to do it." She defended with a frown. "Those who have spite with Ramsay Bolton are all dead. Barely anyone in our army has had personal interaction with him, besides me and your step-sister. You haven't even met him. Everything she says is true: you don't know him. From just ten minutes with him, I already know the man is twisted beyond belief. If there's anyone who deserves to be the last person Ramsay Bolton sees before he dies, it's Sansa."

Jon exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. She searched his eyes for a proper response, and he soon nodded at her words. "You're right," he agreed, taking her hands in his own. "But no matter what, I'm going to have his blood on my hands. He assaulted my sister more times than I can count, and did the same to you. He tried kidnapping her back, but took you by mistake. He touched both of you. You're a Traveler – one of the gifted – and now you're in the Great Game. Our army may not have the numbers; we may not have all of the North with us, but we have our hate. We have our experiences and past with Ramsay, and because of that, he will die."

His hand lingered across her cheek's bruise, and she casually covered it with her own hand. She nodded at his reply, knowing he meant every word said. "Maia," he breathed after a moment, "you have to tell me the message from Ramsay."

Maia bobbed her head, glancing at the fire before turning back to him. She took a deep inhale.

"He wanted me to tell you: 'I had your lady. I can take anyone I want. I'm going to kill you and take back my wife, bastard.'"