Caitie was only a few steps away from the brothel when the same angry, large, balding man confronted her, looking enraged.

"You stole my coin," he spat.

Caitie scowled. "Well, you shouldn't have grabbed me."

The man advanced on her, swaying a bit as he tried to appear threatening. "I'm going to fuck you, you little bitch. Fuck you until—"

"Until I bleed out and die in agony," she finished for him, irritably. "But I am having an awful day, and unfortunately for you, I'm not in the mood to give you yet another chance. You really should have listened the first time."

It took her less than a second to knock him off balance and slip her knife in between his ribs. She didn't even flinch as he coughed up blood and choked out something unintelligible, though Caitie understood the sentiment.

There was no reaction from her as his breathing stopped, as his eyes became vacant. It should have upset her. It should have set in that she'd ended a person's life. But Caitie felt nothing; she felt completely blank.

After she could say for certain he was dead, Caitie stuck the bloody dagger back on her belt and put forward a look of calm as she wandered out of town stiffly to the forested area where she and Grenn had tethered their horses. He was leaning against a tree waiting for her.

"Well?"

Caitie marched past him to her horse, refusing to make eye contact. She didn't want him to see her this way—not again. There was an ache in her chest, and she could only relieve it by throwing something.

Robb Stark had given the Ironborn a backdoor into the North. Norwood, at least, was high up in the mountains, so Caitie knew Arthur would be safe, but how many other Northern children had the Ironborn murdered? How many women had they raped?

From there, it got even worse. He had broken his vow to House Frey to marry a foreigner, executed his own men—even if it had been for a good reason—and turned the rest against him. And then, after all that, went crawling back to the Twins, believing a lord as proud as Walder Frey would forgive him.

The lack of awareness it must have taken was astounding.

Caitie remembered Robb's smile as he pushed her to dance with him, and she found her chest tightening and her stomach turning with rage. She hated him. She hated his arrogance, his selfishness, and his naivete. Robb Stark was responsible for her brothers' lives—for the lives of every Northern man, woman, and child—and he had failed them.

He, and he alone, was responsible for all the misery which befell her family and her country.

Caitie would never forgive the King in the North.

Never.

"Hey, hey, come here," Grenn said, grabbing her arm so she couldn't mount her horse. She spun around to face him. He furrowed his brows. "You're shaking."

Caitie still said nothing. She didn't trust herself not to scream—she already was struggling not to attack the nearest tree. All she managed was a shake of the head.

Grenn's hands went to her shoulders, and he bent down to her eye-level. "Talk to me." He looked her up and down. "Seven Hells, what happened?"

Caitie followed his gaze down to her skirt. It was splattered with blood. "Oh," she said blankly. "I ruined it."

"I can see that. Whose blood—"

"A man who tried to rape me outside the brothel. I killed him."

Grenn froze, looking her over. "You're okay?"

"I'm fine."

"You really don't seem fine."

Caitie took a deep breath, her hands curling into fists. "I found out what happened to the North."

"That bad?"

"Worse."

Grenn gave her a sympathetic smile. "Come on," he said. "Let's get back home. Then, you can tell me all about it."

"Took you long enough," Pyp said when he let them through the side gate. "I hope your adventure was worth it. You both almost got caught."

Caitie stared at him wide-eyed, her fury momentarily forgotten.

"Shit," said Grenn. "How bad is it?"

"It's fine. Slynt was asking where you both were, but I was an actor, remember? I distracted him."

Caitie barely heard what he'd said. She was furious with herself, now—even more than she was with Robb. She had put herself in danger of execution. More importantly, she had her friends in danger. What kind of horrible person was she?

"I thought you said if we got caught, we were on our own," Grenn pointed out.

Pyp shrugged. "Yeah, well…"

"Look," she said hurriedly, "I owe you both of you. I'll take your kitchen duties all week."

He grinned. "Ah, I knew it was worth helping you."

Grenn snorted. "No, you didn't."

At any other time, Caitie would have made a snarky comment. But she couldn't bring herself to reply beyond a nod. Her legs propelled her forward without thinking, no real destination in mind. Caitie wanted to hit something, but it would be a bad idea in her current state. Never spar in anger, Owen had told her. He was no doubt correct.

She should get Jon and Sam—Sam had told her yesterday to find him if she needed it. But to see Jon right now was a worse idea than getting her hands on a weapon. The last thing he needed to hear about was everything she'd learned, and worse—how angry she was with his brother.

Just as Caitie was debating all this, she heard footsteps behind her.

"Wait," Grenn called. His longer legs allowed him to catch up to her and grab her arm in a few short strides. "You shouldn't be alone right now."

She kept her eyes glued to the floor, trying very hard to keep her voice even. "And you should be furious with me. I almost got us both killed."

"But you didn't. It's fine." Grenn took her hand and intertwined his fingers with hers. "Come on. I want to hear about your first trip to a brothel."

Caitie closed her eyes and nodded, allowing him to pull her towards his quarters.

Once Grenn closed the door, he asked, "So? What happened?"

"Robb fucking Stark happened," Caitie growled, low and barely controlled. "The idiot never lost a battle, and yet he managed to get his own army destroyed."

"What? How?"

Caitie laid out all the information she'd learned, pacing back and forth throughout the entirety of it. Every word increased her rage. She kept trying to stop, pull back, and calm down, but she couldn't. "I knew—I just knew—what a cocky, moronic—I should have known he'd—" she broke off, a strangled cry from the back of her throat emerging. "It's as if stupidity and recklessness run through Stark blood. But even Jon isn't as ridiculous as this. He's nothing compared to the King in the North. Well, I hope fucking that whore from Volantis was worth the lives of his men!"

"Caitie!"

She froze. Grenn looked appalled.

"He got my brothers killed." Her voice was thick with tears.

"I know. But what you just said was…"

He didn't need to finish. Insulting a woman Caitie had never met—a by-all-accounts decent person who had been slaughtered—and calling her a whore was needlessly cruel. She knew that. What had happened was not the Queen in the North's fault.

"I didn't mean it." Caitie rubbed her temples. Her headache had only gotten worse.

"I know."

"I'm a terrible person," she muttered. It would be easy to blame the stress of her situation, the loss of her family, or the fear of the coming battle for her lack of self-control. But, in the end, the "why" was irrelevant. She was turning into her father. And it horrified her.

Grenn broke into a fit of laughter. "That is the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

"Isn't it?" she asked. "I promised myself after I threatened you and Edd after the battle at the Fist, I'd never let my temper get the better of me again. And instead, I called my king a cocky moron; I called an innocent woman a whore; I stole a man's coin, and then I killed him in cold blood—all in the same day."

"He tried to rape you."

"So? I could've subdued him instead. I'm getting used to killing, and I don't like it."

"Stop killing, and you end up being killed."

Caitie ignored him. It may have been true, but that didn't mean she had to like it. Instead, she looked up at the ceiling, trying to decipher her feelings and put them into a coherent sentence.

"The Lannisters, the Boltons, the Greyjoys, the Freys—I know they're to blame. I know they're the true evil," she said. "But Robb was a Stark. My brothers believed in him—they trusted him. He was fighting for our home. And in the end, he betrayed his home and the people he was supposed to protect. In the end, he was just an ass and an idiot."

"Did you know him?"

"I met him—once. It didn't go well." Caitie didn't elaborate. She would not be telling Grenn about one of the most embarrassing incidents of her life.

She plopped down next to him on the bed and put her face in her hands. "Damn it, how am I supposed to look Jon in the eye now?"

"What?"

"Well, I can't exactly tell him all this."

"Why not?"

Caitie rolled her eyes. "Because what kind of friend would I be if I told Jon his brother was responsible for my brothers' deaths—for his own death? No, no, I can't."

"You care about him."

"Of course I do," she replied immediately and without hesitation. "He's my best friend."

"Hmph."

Caitie pretended to be oblivious, only a hint of a smile peeking through. "Is something the matter?"

"He's your best friend. And he's prettier than half the girls I know," Grenn grumbled.

Caitie snorted. "I sincerely hope that list doesn't include me."

Grenn looked at her incredulously.

"What? I always thought Jon was prettier than me."

"You know you're beautiful."

"Well, I suppose that's an accomplishment, considering," she sighed, but she couldn't stop the smile from spreading across her face.

Gods, a little flirting with Grenn, and she'd nearly forgotten everything she'd learned; everything she'd lost. As the thoughts returned, she went still and silent.

"Hey," Grenn said softly, noticing her frown, "Look at me."

Caitie did as he asked. He brushed his thumb over her cheek. Whatever he was going to say next was lost.

She wasn't sure when it had happened, but their faces were inches apart. And before she knew what she was doing, before she could even think about the consequences, she was kissing him.

Under a different circumstance, Caitie might have been embarrassed or nervous. But right now, it didn't matter. She didn't care. All Caitie wanted was to forget—forget her brothers, her situation, Robb Stark, the inevitable battle—everything except the feeling of his lips against hers.

It barely even occurred to her that this was her first kiss and that this was definitely not Grenn's. And that she had no idea what she was doing.

At least he didn't seem to mind.

His arms came around her immediately. He pulled her closer, kissing her back fiercely. Caitie was conflicted about what to do next. Part of her wanted to deepen the kiss, while the other part of her was absolutely terrified of it.

Grenn's hands were weaving through her hair, and in response—almost involuntarily—she got even closer, pulling herself flush against him, running her fingers through his hair, and parting her lips, just a bit.

Caitie heard a small groan and felt something—something hard and warm—against her stomach.

Oh.

It didn't repulse her like she thought it would. Quite the opposite, if she were honest. In fact, it made her wish the Night's Watch uniform didn't have so many damn layers.

But not a moment later, Grenn pulled away. His eyes were wide—frantic.

"You…" he said, flushed and panting, with his hair disheveled. "I shouldn't—we shouldn't—I didn't mean to… I'm sorry," he finished lamely.

Caitie's heart sunk into her stomach. Still, she managed to school her features into a neutral expression. "Of course," she said, keeping her voice even. "Don't worry about it. You made a mistake. I... get it."

"Caitie, I didn't mean—"

"I know—it's okay. But I should go."

She waited for him to call her back—to say something—but he only gulped, nodded once, and allowed her to leave.

Caitie cursed herself as she fled the room. She should have remembered—Grenn was a man of the Night's Watch, and unlike Caitie, he felt beholden to them.

Or perhaps she had misread him. Perhaps he didn't feel anything but friendship towards her. That only served to make Caitie feel worse.

Gods, after everything she'd learned today, this is what she was now upset over? What was wrong with her?

The only thing Caitie knew for sure was that she didn't want to be alone. She wanted Jon and Sam.

She checked both their quarters, the courtyard, the pantry, and finally found them in the library—Jon hovering over a map, and Sam putting away some scrolls.

"—her there," Sam was saying as Caitie barreled in.

They jumped to attention, and seeing her appearance, exchanged glances. Caitie realized she must have looked as disheveled as Grenn had. Instinctively, her hands went to smooth down her hair.

"Where have you been all day?" Jon asked.

Caitie nearly spilled her secret, but one look at his face, and the words died on her lips. She couldn't tell him.

The solution was to shrug and leave it at that. "Have I missed anything important?" she asked.

There were unshed tears in Sam's eyes. "The Wildlings raided another village."

"How many are dead?"

Jon grimaced. "About two-thousand."

Caitie's legs turned to jelly. She had to grip the edge of the table to keep from collapsing. Two-thousand people—dead.

"What was I thinking?" Sam moaned.

Caitie quirked her head to the side. "What?"

"I left Gilly in Mole's Town!"

"She wasn't safe here," Jon reminded him.

Sam was beside himself. "She's not safe out there! I should have known. You told us there were Wildlings south of the Wall. If they're raiding the smaller villages, Mole's Town could be next."

"Castle Black could be next," Jon said, staring down at the map.

Caitie was barely listening. Sam was right. She had been so wrapped up in her own damn problems… Why hadn't she realized Gilly was in danger there?

"Maybe they'll overlook Mole's Town." She was trying to convince herself as much as Sam. "They haven't managed to draw us out like they wanted, so maybe they'll ignore it—since it's only half a league away—and come straight here."

"That's not much better."

"I should go back for Gilly," Sam said desperately.

"We have orders; no one's to leave the castle."

Caitie almost told him to go fuck orders; she'd already disobeyed them once, she'd do it again.

But then she remembered she'd nearly gotten caught—gotten herself and Grenn hanged. And if the Wildlings were anywhere near the road between here and Mole's Town, she could be caught by them, too.

Caitie couldn't go back without risking not only her own life but her friends at Castle Black. At that moment, she wished that she could reverse time more than anything in the world.

Sam paced around the table. "I remember when you disobeyed orders and rode south to help Robb."

"And I remember who came after me and brought me home."

Caitie remembered that, too. She also remembered thinking it was wrong and unfair. Now, she was glad. The king would have gotten him killed.

"I know how hard it is, Sam, believe me. When you told me about Bran going beyond the Wall, all I could think about was getting my strength back so I could go and find him."

But there was a difference, Caitie thought, between Bran choosing to go north of the Wall on his own and Gilly being stuck in Mole's Town despite what she had wanted.

And she had been judging Robb. Caitie was no better at making good decisions.

"I wish I could have convinced him to come back with me," Sam said.

Jon didn't answer. He only looked back down at the map.

"I tried. Really, I did."

"How fast could they travel?" he asked. "A crippled boy being pulled by a simpleton."

"I don't know. They'd pass Wildling villages. They could find shelter at one of them."

"The Wildlings have joined up with Mance. Every village or sheltered place will be deserted."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Caitie cut in. "The Wildlings wouldn't be friendly towards them. And abandoned Wildling villages are where Edd, Grenn, and I found shelter." She winced at the thought of Grenn.

Sam nodded. "That's true."

"Maybe…" Jon focused on the map. "Wait. All the Wildling villages are abandoned, except—" he pointed to something.

Caitie leaned over his shoulder to get a better look. "Oh, no."

Sam followed her lead. "Craster's!" he exclaimed. "You think Bran found Craster's—"

His sentence was cut off by Locke, clearing his throat. He stood in the archway from the stairs. Caitie had to resist the urge to either hide or attack.

"Snow," he said. "I don't mean to interrupt. Thorne wants to see you." He didn't wait for Jon's answer before turning on his heel and leaving.

The three friends looked at each other with nervous expressions.

"That doesn't sound good." Caitie's voice was grave.

Sam wrung his hands nervously. "I'm sure it can't be that bad."

"It's Ser Alliser Thorne," she pointed out.

He opened his mouth to argue but soon changed his mind. "All right, you make a good point."

Jon smiled sardonically. "Well, the worst he can do is kill me."

"He kills you; I kill him."

"That might be your worst idea yet," he said, laughing.

Caitie rolled her eyes. After today, it didn't seem like it.

I feel so bad for how much I shit on Robb this chapter. But Caitie really doesn't have fond memories of him, so there wasn't much choice. Still, poor guy. I always thought he was cute. Dumb, but cute.