STRANGER ━ Jon Snow

FORTY TWO

"Tell them who it belonged to."

Jon and Maia squinted at each other before turning back to the Red Woman, who was hesitating her answer. "The princess, Shireen," she finally spoke.

"Tell them what you did to her." Davos continued, his eyes welling up with tears.

Maia bit the inside of her cheek, looking from the Onion Knight to Melisandre in fear. She couldn't have done what the blonde was thinking. The tension could be cut with a knife.

"TELL THEM!"

They all jolted at Davos' shout. Melisandre looked at her hands before mumbling incoherent sounds. Her mouth moved, but she could find no words with the way Jon and Maia were staring at her. "We ... we burned her at the stake."

Maia's hand flew to her mouth in shock. Shireen Baratheon – such a kind, young child – dead at the hands of one of the only women Maia thought she could trust. Shireen was a good soul; she didn't have one bad bone in her body, but she was dead now. The princess had promised she'd return – so she could tell Maia of her stories – and yet, here they were now.

Jon couldn't look at the witch, and instead casted his eyes to floor, grabbing his lady's hand in the process. The two entwined their fingers together, but neither could understand why the comfort of one another wasn't helping the pain. Davos sucked in a sob, asking, "Why?"

Melisandre gulped. "The army was stripped. The horses were dying." She explained, her voice rising. "It was the only way."

"You burned a little girl alive!"

"I only do what my Lord commands!"

"He commands you to burn children! Your Lord is evil!"

The Red Woman shook her head. "We are standing here because of Him. Jon Snow is alive because the Lord willed it."

"I ... loved that girl," Davos cried, "like she was my own. She was good. She was kind. And you killed her!"

Melisandre's lip quivered as she replied, "So did her father. So did her mother. Her own blood knew it was the only way."

"The only way for what? They all died anyway!" A tear cascaded down Davos' cheek, and Maia found it hard to watch. "You told everyone that Stannis was the one. You have him believing it – all of them fooled! And you lied."

"I didn't lie!" She admitted, swallowing the lump in her throat. "I was wrong."

Davos nodded. "Aye, you were wrong. How many died because you were wrong?"

Maia looked around at the three of them. Silence resonated throughout the room, and it was as if she could actually hear her ears ringing. She took in a deep breath of air through her nostrils, noticing the Red Woman staring at her. "Mel," she whispered, just loud enough for her to hear, "you killed a child – for nothing."

Ser Davos held his head high. "Can I ask, your leave, to execute this woman for murder? She admits to the crime."

Melisandre stared at Jon with wide eyes, and he slowly lifted his own. "Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

"I've been ready to die for many years." She responded with a hint of a smile. "If the Lord was done with me, so be it. But he's not. You've seen the Night King, Jon Snow. You know the Great War is still to come. You know the army of the dead will be upon us soon. And you know I can help you win that war."

Jon's hand slipped from his lover's to walk closer to Melisandre. Maia held both her hands together, trying to warm them as she glanced at Davos crying. She didn't want to, and she had tried her hardest to hold it in, but then she felt a tear escape the corner of her eye.

"Ride South today," Jon ordered. "If you return to the North, I'll have you hanged as a murderer."

Silence. The witch bowed her head and nodded, placing the wooden horse statue on the table. She sucked in a deep breath and made her way out, but not before being stopped by Ser Davos. "If you – ever – come back this way," he threatened, "I will execute you myself."

•••

Through the heaviness of her cloak, Maia could feel Jon's arm wrapped around her waist. He took her to the tops of Winterfell, and from above, they could almost see everything. The snow-covered statues were almost an obstruction as they watched Melisandre below. She rode in the opposite direction on a horse provided, but not before looking over her shoulder at the couple. Maia watched her frown as she rode away, and though the blonde was slightly sad about her departure, she didn't know if she could ever forgive her for what she did.

Maia held her gloved hands together, watching Jon's exhale float into the air. "You know," he spoke, for the first time in minutes, "you still haven't given me an answer."

"On what?" She lofted a brow.

Jon continued his stare ahead as he muttered, "Marriage."

Maia opened her mouth, but she found no words. Truthfully, she hadn't decided yet, and she didn't know if he'd understand that. She told him she needed to know the outcome of the battle to answer, but here she was, at a loss for words.

At the second Maia wanted to reply, the two heard a pair of feet crunch against the snow. They looked up, noticing Sansa was walking towards them. Maia knew the siblings would want some alone time, and she turned to Jon. He glanced at her through half-closed closed eyes, a smile on his face while she caressed his cheek and whispered, "Soon."