Maybe this wasn't her house. Maybe she didn't belong in it. But one could not deny that the coincidence of the name was uncanny.
Maia traced her finger over her supposed house's sigil, the corner of her mouth lifting at the thought of it. The words, "To rather burn nor kneel," were embedded underneath the image.
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She seemed to be so caught up in the history of House Sanders that she didn't even hear Sansa's knock on the library door. After finally noticing the constant rattling, Maia glanced up and smiled to her friend. "Sorry to interrupt," Sansa apologized. "You seem to be quite busy."
Maia shook her head as she adjusted her legs under the wooden chair she sat on. "Not entirely. Is there something you need?"
Sansa was quiet for a moment. Maia noticed the girl was looking at her fingertips, deciding on her words. The blonde cocked her head to the side. "Is there something wrong, Sansa?"
"I must ask you a question –" the red-head paused "– and I need you to answer me honestly."
Maia nodded. "Ask away."
Sansa took the seat across from the blonde and clasped her hands together. She bit her lip before asking, "Do you plan on becoming Lady of Winterfell?"
"No," the elder woman answered honestly. "What would give you that idea?"
"Maia," Sansa sighed, closing her eyes, "you promised to be honest. I know."
Maia looked around the room, confusion racking her brain. She decided not to reply, but if there was one thing for sure, she knew the right to be Lady of Winterfell was reserved for Sansa.
"I know Jon asked for your hand in marriage." Sansa continued, finally looking at her friend. "Are you going to accept?"
Maia lofted a brow. "How do you know about that?"
"Are you going to accept?"
The older woman viewed at her hands. Maia closed the book in front of her, causing the old table below it to shake. "I ... I don't know."
"You must know that Jon has a lead on me to rule Winterfell, though he may not even want it. If this happens and you accept his offer, you will automatically become Lady of Winterfell once you are wed."
Maia sighed as she stood from the table. She walked over to one of the various bookshelves in the library and slid her book back into it's place. "Are you asking me not to marry Jon?"
Sansa wasn't sure. She didn't know her true reasons for asking, though she supposed it was jealously seeping into her skin. She wanted what she should have. It was Littlefinger's plan – she knew this – and yet, she couldn't help but be curious.
"I'm asking you if you're aware," she finally replied. "That's all."
Maia laid her hands on one of the chairs. Her fingers gripped the edge so tight, they turned white. She didn't want to make a decision now; she wasn't ready yet. "I don't know if I'm going to accept Jon's offer. I'm not sure if I want to be married."
