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MAIA woke up slumped against the heart tree. Little droplets of snowflakes cascaded onto her eyes, clouding her vision for a moment. Her head hurt tremendously, but she managed to sit up with the help of the weirwood in back of her.
She had returned. Everything she researched was true.
She couldn't help her giddiness as she began to laugh. She had done it; after four long months, enduring a therapist's wishes and medication – Maia had returned to Westeros. Somehow, some way, Edna was right. Her destiny remained in this world, though she hadn't known before.
Her backpack had somehow ripped on her travel there, but all the contents were fine. Despite the raging snow storm pushing her back, Maia started her short trek through the godswood to the Wall. She hoped – more likely, prayed – that some of her allies still remained there, or she was a goner for sure.
The jog didn't take long, though she was walking slower than usual due to the overwhelming amount of wind being shoved in her direction. Maia was smarter this time around and wore a heavy winter jacket, and god, was she thankful for it. As she neared the giant mound of ice, she noticed the usual men manning the gates from above. They saw her little, black presence soon, trying to peer farther to see who the figure truly was. When she was a few feet from the entrance, Maia noticed her hole she created still hadn't been repaired, and she then looked up.
From above, one of the men shouted, "WHO ARE YOU?" His hollers were almost drowned from the wind.
"It's Maia Sanders, Ser Arthur!" She tried her best to shriek over the howling weather. "I've returned!"
As soon as he squinted and noticed the thick, blonde hair, as light as snow itself, Arthur knew who this former stranger was. He rallied his brothers to open the gates and to tell Jon and Ed of the visitor. The brothers did as they were told, all the while shaking their heads that this was the second party that dropped in today.
Maia let out a breath of relief as the gates of the Wall opened. Her feet and hands shook violently from the cold, red dotted her nose, and her whole face felt like frost. But in a matter of seconds, she was there: in the courtyard of Castle Black once again.
Faces, new and familiar, stared at her in horror, and she didn't know if it was the shock of it all or that she appeared unruly. The first person she recognized was Melisandre, standing above on the deck of Castle Black and staring at her like she'd seen death itself. Then, there was Ser Davos, who quickly rushed to her aid and wrapped his cloak around her shoulders, his expression a mask of confusion at her outfit of choice. They were the only two she really needed to feel safe at the moment.
"Lady Sanders, I ... I can't believe it." He muttered, trying to rush her through the army of brothers and Wildlings in the courtyard. "Ser Alliser had everyone believe that he had killed you; that you had died in the storm."
