CHAPTER 21 | STALLING

"IT'S really not that bad, Maia."

The blonde sent a threatening glare in Jon's direction. She dipped an almost-clean rag in a soapy pail next to her. He lied ever so carefully on his mattress as she sat between his legs, rinsing the rag in her hands for the fourth time. Maia tried her best to not be distracted by the Lord Commander's lean physique while lifting the cloth to his forehead. Damp black locks stuck to his forehead as he watched her with curious eyes. Strands of blonde fell so carefully in front of her vision, and he found the way she was constantly blowing them out of the way to be funny. With the situation they were in right now, Jon imagined the way he could grasp her hips and take her, but yet, his vow lingered in the back of his mind.

"You literally have one of the worst scabs I've ever seen on your face." She scoffed, patting the area with water.

Jon chuckled softly. "It's not everyday you kill a White Walker."

Maia ignored his sly remark as she slowly picked off the large scab, immediately applying pressure onto the open wound.

"Ser Davos approached me today," he muttered as his partner glanced his way. "He returned to recruit aid for Stannis. Not only ten seconds later did Melisandre ride through our gates with news that Stannis and his army had been defeated."

She cocked her head to the side. "So does that mean –?"

"Stannis Baratheon is dead, apparently." He finished as Maia continued to pat his forehead. "Now we have one less army to help against the real fight in the North. He couldn't wait to charge for Winterfell."

Her face contorted. "I never liked him."

"Personality doesn't matter to me when we have a pack of Wights on our tail."

Maia remembered Derek's words of Stannis' death, frowning in result. "I had a feeling he was going to die."

Jon chuckled, casually leaning forward to press his lips on her own. She felt her hands slip from the rag on his forehead to his face, which she held firmly in her nimble hands. His mouth always had the defined taste of leftover dinner or ale, and that wasn't always so savory. Nonetheless, she enjoyed him in any setting.

He leaned away from her, licking his lips in a way that was laughable. "You have a feeling about everything. Why is that?"

Maia tapped her fingers on his arm. "It's kind of hard to explain."

Jon raised a brow. "Is this the moment when you tell me you're some sort of witch?"

She chortled, shaking her head. "No, no." She replied, remembering Gilly's words. Maybe this was the moment. "I just ... How would you feel if I told you I wasn't ... from here?"

"I'm not from here either, Maia." He answered, moving his hands about. "I'm originally from Winterfell."

She shook her head again. "That's not what I mean."

Jon paused. His mind boggled with answers he would never get. "Maia."

The blonde didn't say anything, nor look at him.

"Maia."

"Why do you love me?" She spat, almost diverting from the topic at hand. Her eyes began to focus on the candle on his bedside table. "You know that I'm keeping more secrets than I should from you. We both realize that we barely know shit about each other. All I create is chaos, Jon – fucking chaos. And yet, we're both so oddly infatuated with each other that it seems almost unhealthy."

Jon quirked a brow. "You're stalling."

Maia groaned, running her hands over her face. "I don't know how to say all of this," she responded while rubbing at her forehead. "I guess ... sometimes I feel like I'm ... not from this world."

He stared at her for a long moment, contemplating her words, before beginning to laugh. He thought her practical confession was funny.

"Why are you laughing?" She scoffed.

Jon shrugged. "I don't know. You sounded comedic. I could use that around here."

Maia shook her head, standing from his lap and dropping her rag into the pail next to his bed. She couldn't possibly continue now – he thought her to be joke. "Forget I said anything."

"Wait, Maia –"

She held up a hand, using the other to open the door to his room. "I'll see you tomorrow morning."

Jon looked away just as she shut the door in his face.

•••

Maia closed her eyes, hoping for a better night's sleep for the day ahead. She was terribly wrong to assume that.

"I need you to pay attention to me."

She stood in front of their shared flat screen TV, glaring at Derek as her arms out-stretched around the edges. Derek groaned loudly, pausing his favorite show, while a very important scene was about to play out. He looked at his soon-to-be wife with disappointed eyes.

"Maia," he sighed, "it's Sunday. You know the TV gets my attention on Sundays."

She rolled her eyes. "Do you not love me anymore?"

"Don't play the fucking guilt card on me." He scoffed, pointing the remote in her direction.

Maia placed her hands on her hips as she inched closer to her fiancé, a frown spread on her face. "I don't know if you've realized this, Derek, but we are on very busy schedules. The weekends are the most time we have together, and we haven't had sex in a month."

"What? Is sex the basis of our relationship now?"

Her mouth dropped. "I cannot believe those words just fell out of a guy's mouth."

Derek leaned close to the blonde, kissing her delightfully on the lips to hold her for the time being. His episode was almost done anyways, so he just hoped she'd be in the mood afterwards. "Now," he said, tossing her light body to the side and grabbing the remote, "Game of Thrones is almost over and things aren't looking so good for Jon Snow. If you love me, you'll let me finish."

"You're a bore." Maia seethed as she stood from the couch to walk over to their small kitchen. She looked over her shoulder, noticing Derek continue to watch his show while the familiar curly-haired bastard appeared on screen. "Maybe Jon Snow would want to fuck me more than you."

"Doubt it. He's into red-heads."

She narrowed her eyes in his direction, though he couldn't see it. She pulled out her favorite tub of coffee ice cream from the freezer and a spoon, beginning to stuff her face as the mood for sex wore off. Maybe all she needed was ice cream. Who needed a fiancé?

"NO!"

Maia swung her head to Derek, who was screaming the repeated word at their TV. She walked towards the couch and continued pushing spoonfuls of ice cream in her mouth. Jon Snow cowered to the ground on their television, suffering from multiple stab wounds. She watched as several members of his "brotherhood" (or whatever) shoved their knives into his own gut, even a little boy who she guessed was someone he trusted. They all muttered an identical phrase: "For the Watch."

"What the fuck is going –?"

Maia hit the back of Derek's head as she suddenly became interested. "Shut up!"

Jon Snow had fallen to the ground, a pool of blood surrounding him as the members dispersed. All his friends had turned on him, for an act Maia had no clue of. She knew she felt bad though, because from the bits and pieces Derek had told her about this Jon Snow character, he seemed like a good guy.

But there was one important saying that she remembered leaving Derek's mouth, and that was in the game of thrones, you either win or you die.

•••

Maia woke up gasping for breath. She clutched her chest with small hands, looking around at the cricketing wood of her room in Castle Black. It's real. It was all real, but Maia still waited for someone to come out of a door and say that it was all a prank. Though here she was, sitting on her bed in Castle Black, remembering a life she would've had before her destiny changed forever.

Maybe she was meant to have fallen into his world. It wasn't all essentially real, but there had to be reason for her to be here. And after that haunting realization of where she was at in the game of thrones, she finally realized her purpose.

She had to save Jon Snow.