Don't ask me why, but I really wanted to post this. Like, right now. I think I'm done editing, but I'm running on 35 hours of sleep so I might have missed stuff. If something is... wonky, I'll fix it tomorrow. Tonight. Whenever I wake up. You guys know the drill.

"You're gripping the blade too tightly."

Caitie stood in the middle of the training yard and watched as Olly readied himself for a sparring session, his knuckles white against the hilt of his sword.

As he planted his feet in the right stance with a look of intense determination, she breathed in the fresh air, reveling in it. The freedom of the outdoors hadn't lost its appeal to her yet.

It still wasn't enough—in fact, she didn't think she would ever get enough of being outside. The wind in her hair, the sound of rustling trees, the feeling of snow at her fingertips—she hadn't realized just how much she'd missed it.

In her first order of business, Caitie had taken over training duty, under the pretense of Jon's new ever-busier schedule. As it turned out, transitioning into the role of Lord Commander took a lot of time, effort, and paperwork.

Truthfully, taking over training duties was Caitie's way of thanking Jon—allowing him to be around Olly less.

He felt terrible about giving it up, but she insisted it was good for him to have a break. And, as it allowed her to be outside more often, Caitie more than welcomed the duty.

Like the lord commander had said to do, she was making herself useful in the best way she knew how.

"Your sword is a natural extension of your arm. It's a part of you. It should feel comfortable," she continued as the other recruits watched—some with admiration, most with disdain, and a few with neutral expressions.

Jon could protect her against the worst of the black brothers, but that didn't mean she was welcome at the Wall. For the most part, at least, those who wanted her dead, raped, or both left her alone.

Whether it was because she had the favor of the lord commander, because she had a red-eyed direwolf following her pretty much wherever she went, or because she made it very clear she was likely as they were to kill anyone who tried to hurt her, Caitie couldn't guess.

Perhaps all three.

Her attention was pulled back to the present when Olly relaxed. She smiled at him. "Better. Now, are you ready?"

He nodded, and so it began.

The fight did not last long.

At first, Olly fought competently enough. Then, with a yell, he struck at her. Caitie evaded easily, and Olly, who was unprepared, stumbled backward, losing his sword in the process. She stopped the fight then and there before she could truly defeat him.

"That was good," she lied, not wanting to damage his self-esteem too terribly. "Do you know what went wrong?"

"No," Olly replied with a bit of petulance. She fought a smile as she realized how petulant she must have sounded when Owen and Cerys started teaching her.

But she had no desire to think about her older brothers, especially when she was supposed to be training the new recruits.

"You stabbed at me," Caitie said. "It leaves you unguarded. You only ever stab at an opponent when they're at their weakest. And when you've got the heavier weapon, it's doubly important."

"But I've seen you stab at people before."

"Well, yes," she said. "But when I do, they're not in a position to fight back. And the one time someone was, I almost got sliced in half and almost died from a set of broken ribs. It's about knowing what the right move is for the right moment."

"I'll never get this," Olly muttered, so low that only she could hear it.

Caitie decided it was time for a private chat with him. "All right, it's almost midday," she announced. "I think it's time to let you all get some food in your bellies before you have to sit on your asses and listen to a boring speech."

Some of the recruits laughed, while others only scowled as they all marched up the steps and through the door. Before Olly could follow, she cleared her throat.

"Come sit with me," she said, nodding towards a nearby alcove.

He followed obediently into the alcove and sat beside her on an old, rickety cart that barely supported both their weights. The light wasn't as good in here, but she could still make out the nervous look on Olly's face.

Once Caitie was certain the cart wouldn't give way, she spoke, trying her best to emulate Maester Aemon's calming tone. "You're doing really well," she said. "Sword-fighting isn't something you master in a few months. It took me eleven years to get where I am."

"But you're a girl."

Caitie tried to conceal her frown. Judging by Olly's grimace, she didn't think she'd done a very good job of it.

But was just a child, she reminded herself. It wasn't as though Westeros had many examples of women who fought. On top of that, he was frustrated with his lack of progress, and Caitie knew what that felt like—her High Valyrian pronunciations still needed work.

Keeping this in mind, she forced her voice to sound reassuring. "Look. You began your sword training less than a year ago, and your basics are good. The lord commander wouldn't let you take the black this afternoon, otherwise."

"Really?" Olly asked, brightening.

"Yes." She smiled, bumping his shoulder with her own. "So don't worry. You're doing fine. Even if you never quite master swordplay, you said yourself you were the best archer in your hamlet."

"Yeah, I guess you're right."

"I rarely am otherwise," she joked. "And speaking of the black—are you ready to say your vows?"

To this, Olly nodded enthusiastically.

"You keep faith with the Old Gods, don't you?"

"'Course I do."

Caitie laughed. What Northman—commoner or otherwise—didn't keep faith with the Old Gods? And seeing as Olly was the only native Northman in his class of recruits, Caitie felt for him.

"If you want," she said, "I'll take you north of the Wall so you can say your vows in front of a heart tree, like Jon, Sam, and I did."

"You'd do that?"

"Of course. We can go as soon as you get your assignment."

Olly's face fell into a frown. "I forgot about assignments."

"Do you have a preference?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. A ranger, I guess."

"What about becoming my steward?" This came from Jon, whose brand new, large, black cloak blocked what little of the light was left from streaming in.

Caitie was stunned—firstly, that Jon had come looking for them when he was supposed to be sorting through a large stack of reports and letters Sam had left on his desk, and secondly, because he had to be joking.

"Wait, really?" asked Olly.

"Aye. I want you to learn so that you may lead one day, the same as I have."

Olly blushed a deep shade of red. "Thank you, Lord Commander."

Jon smiled at him, hiding any semblance of pain. After his and Caitie's conversation the day before the choosing, he had made much more of an effort not to show the turmoil in his head and be kinder.

To be kinder, however, didn't mean Jon had to make the boy his steward.

"Go on and get to the dining hall before all the food is gone," Caitie said.

Olly started off, but then he turned back around. "Lord Commander, Caitie said she'd take me to a heart tree to say my vows. Would… would you come?"

Jon nodded. "It'd be my honor."

Olly's smile widened before he bolted off towards the dining hall for the midday meal.

When she was sure he had gone, Caitie raised an eyebrow. "You didn't have to say yes, you know."

"I know," Jon said. "But I'd like to see a weirwood again."

"I can't believe you asked him to be your steward."

He sighed. "I can't spend the rest of my tenure avoiding him. What happened wasn't his fault."

Caitie squeezed Jon's arm. "That doesn't mean you're wrong for feeling the way you feel, either," she said. It had become her mantra, of sorts—a reminder that they were allowed to feel things, even when they weren't sure they had the right.

"Maybe not. But how I feel doesn't matter. He's going to be a man of the Night's Watch, and I am its lord commander."

Caitie knew that. She also knew it didn't make things any easier. "I understand," she said. "But if it's too much, tell me, all right? I'll make your excuses."

"I will."

"Promise?"

Jon smiled. "Promise."

Caitie relaxed. "Good. Now, come on. Let's get out of this place."

As they exited the alcove, he switched topics. "Do you think the weirwood is still there?"

Caitie laughed and linked her arm through his, more excited than she'd been in a while.

"I certainly hope so," she said. "I wouldn't want to trek a mile through the snow for nothing."

Caitie didn't stick around the courtyard for the ceremony.

She hoped for the recruits' sakes that Jon hadn't learned Mormont's penchant for terribly long speeches. Though, knowing how much Jon enjoyed the sound of his own voice, Caitie didn't hold much hope.

Or maybe she was getting him confused with herself.

Either way, it wasn't her concern. Caitie had paid her dues as a recruit and would not be forced to listen.

That Slynt and Thorne would be at the ceremony had also crossed her mind.

The castle was virtually empty as she walked through the corridors to the kitchens. While she started at a meandering pace, Caitie soon picked it up. After missing mealtime, her stomach was eating itself.

When she got to her destination, she saw Hobb slaving away at the stove, brewing something which smelled… not so wonderful, to be diplomatic.

"Tell me you don't intend to serve that," she said, pinching her nose.

Hobb rubbed his forehead and grimaced when he realized there had been food on his hands. "It was an experiment," he sighed. "Didn't turn out like I planned. I'll give it to the horses."

"Poor horses," she said.

"Ha. Ha." He wiped his hands on his apron and turned around. "Anyway, what're you doing here? I thought you'd be in the yard."

"I didn't want to sit through a long speech. And I'm hungry."

"I have day-old bread over there, somewhere."

Caitie walked past various countertops covered with dirty pots and pans until she found a loaf of bread about the size of her fist. It was stale, but it didn't taste half-bad.

She looked around and furrowed her brows. "Where's Gilly?"

When she wasn't with Sam and Shireen in the library, Gilly usually spent her days helping Hobb in the kitchens. Since Sam was busy helping Jon deal with his new duties and Shireen had some business with her father, Caitie figured Gilly would be here.

"Dunno," Hobb said. "She was here this morning, but she said something about Maester Aemon and rushed off."

Caitie's blood ran cold. "Is he okay?"

"I think he just had a bad morning. Sam wasn't worried when I saw him in the dining hall."

She relaxed, though not completely, once she decided to visit the library later and see for herself that Maester Aemon was okay.

"So," said Hobb, "want to taste something incredible? Not that crap simmering on the stove, I promise."

"Depends on what it is," Caitie replied. "I eat nothing with cabbage."

"Then you're in luck." He held out a bowl for her to take.

After setting down her bread on the counter, she accepted his offering: a brown mush and chunks of chicken covered with red and black flakes. "Uh, what is this?"

"It's Dornish stew. Taste it."

Caitie took a tentative spoonful and ended up pleasantly surprised. Whatever Hobb had made, it was spicy, but not too spicy, full of flavors she'd never tasted before. "Not terrible," she admitted. "Where did you get the ingredients for Dornish stew?"

"Someone must have messed up the requisition orders."

Which meant that Maester Aemon had. Caitie winced as she realized she'd have to tell Sam before someone like Ser Alliser got wind of it.

"Whoever wrote it spent way more than they meant. Good thing, too," Hobb went on, oblivious. "I was feeling homesick."

Caitie latched onto the distraction from the depressing thought of Maester Aemon's health. She had thought Hobb looked Dornish, but she hadn't ever heard of a Dornishman becoming a brother of the Night's Watch—at least not in recent years.

"You're Dornish?"

"My mother was Dornish," he said. "I grew up in White Harbor, but I went back to Sunspear at sixteen. It's where I learned to cook."

"I've always wanted to go to Dorne."

"You'd like it. Women fight there like you do. They can also inherit titles."

"I'd heard that. I even heard that being a bastard isn't looked down upon."

"You heard right. In Dorne, bastards are considered children of passion. But that's mostly 'cause Dornishmen aren't prickly about sex like Northmen."

"We're not prickly," Caitie defended.

Then she thought about it.

"All right, we're not that prickly."

"In all fairness," he said, shrugging, "it's not just Northmen. It's the other kingdoms, too."

"I wouldn't know. I've never been south of Winterfell."

He smiled wryly. "So you're not from White Harbor?"

Caitie winced, berating herself for not having thought about the geographical inconsistency in her story. She took a large spoonful of her stew as she contemplated her course of action.

Oh, why the hell not? It wasn't like he knew her family name, anyhow.

Besides, Gilly liked him, and Caitie trusted Gilly's judgment.

"Do you want the truth?" she asked.

Hobb nodded.

"I was a lady. My family has a keep and everything."

Incredulous laughter followed. "And you gave it up to come here and almost die? Seven Hells, you're as mad at the Mad King was."

"You can't possibly understand what it's like," she said, unappreciative of the comparison. "Being a lady in Westeros—being any woman, really—is a cage you can't escape without changing who you are. You don't have any choice in anything you do. You're not free."

There was a moment of silence before he answered her. "I can understand that."

When Caitie waited for him to elaborate, he waved a hand. "Story for a different day."

Curiosity bubbled up inside of her, but Caitie held it back. If Hobb didn't want to speak about it, that was his business.

She chose her next words carefully. "If it's not too much trouble, please don't mention my being a lady. I'd rather it be kept quiet."

Hobb nodded as he poured some stew into a smaller bowl and grabbed a spoon for himself. "Your secret's safe with me."

Jon and Olly found her an hour later, ready, waiting, and impatient, in Olly's case, to leave for the north. Caitie donned her cloak—an ugly black monstrosity with heavy fur to weigh her down—and walked behind friends to the gate. She'd forgotten just how much she hated the damn thing.

That was the only good thing about being stuck inside—no need for unfashionable, bulky cloaks.

Ghost trailed along, barely keeping pace with Caitie, taking his sweet time as he sniffed at the ground. He didn't seem in a hurry to go beyond the Wall once again—not that she could blame him.

"We aren't going far," she promised.

The direwolf whined, but he did pick up speed, so Caitie counted it as a win.

Olly got to the inner gate first, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he waited for Jon's signal to let them through. When Caitie came up behind them, her stomach dropped.

How had she forgotten?

"You all right?" Jon whispered.

Caitie couldn't take her eyes off the steel bars and the ground that lay beyond them. The tunnel was lit up with torches; she could see every inch of it as it taunted her.

"This—" She swallowed hard, eyes still refusing to break from the tunnel. "I... forgot."

"You don't have to come. I'll make something up for Olly."

Caitie almost nodded and turned back around, letting Jon and Olly go alone. But she had made a promise, and she didn't want Jon to have to go without her, either. It wasn't like she could avoid the tunnel forever, anyway.

They would just have to endure it together.

"No," she said. "It's fine. Let's go."

Caitie held her breath the whole way through. She tried not to think about the fact that she was walking through the place where Grenn died—stepping on the ground where he'd taken his last breath. It felt like a desecration of his grave, to an extent—though, why she felt this way, Caitie was unsure. His body was ash. There was nothing to desecrate.

Still, she ignored the feeling of wrongness, put one foot in front of the other, and forced herself to keep going.

Jon helped.

Every other step, she would look over to him and see her own feelings mirrored on his face. Then he would give her a brief smile and nod. She would smile back, and they would both continue, more at ease.

Finally, the view of the north came into sight. After being confined to her small quarters for so long, the vastness and freedom were more welcoming than anything in the world. The lingering heaviness from the tunnel left her. She took the deepest breath she could and looked up at the clear sky.

The most beautiful sight in the world.

Ghost rushed past her, all hesitancy forgotten. He flopped onto his back and rolled around in the snow, looking like the pup she had met so many years earlier during her first week at Castle Black.

Walking through the forest at a leisurely pace, with Ghost and Olly a few steps in front of them, Caitie and Jon stayed side by side the whole time, until finally, they came upon the familiar winding white branches and blood-red leaves.

The heart tree.

It was like traveling back through time.

Memories of kneeling in front of the tree in between Jon and Sam as they recited their vows; of the stupid fight she and Jon had gotten into earlier that day; of the letter that had come hours later.

The day of her vows had been a catalyst for every terrible thing to happen in the last three years. And somehow, it was also one of her fondest memories from her time at Castle Black.

The world had been so different back then. She had been different. And a part of her missed it desperately.

Caitie wondered if Jon was thinking the same thing.

"Are you ready?" he asked, placing a hand on Olly's shoulder.

Olly could only manage a nod, as transfixed by the weirwood as Caitie had been the first time she had been to this clearing.

He kneeled.

"Hear my words and bear witness to my vow: night gathers, and now my watch begins. It shall not end until my death. I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children. I shall wear no crowns and win no glory. I shall live and die at my post. I am the sword in the darkness. I am the watcher on the walls. I am the shield that guards the realms of men. I pledge my life and honor to the Night's Watch, for this night and all the nights to come."

If Jon hadn't seen her flinch and slipped his hand into hers for comfort, Caitie may well have burst into tears.

In hindsight, it was such a silly way for Grenn to tell her he loved her. So obnoxiously romantic.

At the same time, she'd give anything to hear it again.

For this night and all nights to come.

Jon didn't understand the significance of the final words of the oath, but that was okay. The contact of his hand in hers still helped.

She hoped it helped him, too.

As Olly stood and turned around to face them with a large grin on his face, a smile found its way onto hers.

His excitement was contagious.

"You are now a man of the Night's Watch," said Jon, letting go of her hand to clap him on the back.

"Congratulations, Brother Olly," she said, grinning. "Welcome to the Watch."

A strong gust of wind interrupted their celebration, leaving the three of them shivering, despite their heavy cloaks. The only one not bothered by it was Ghost. In the few minutes since arriving at the weirwood clearing, he'd already caught himself a large hare and was chewing it with excitement.

"We should head back," Jon said.

Though Caitie wanted to stay, she still agreed with the suggestion. Better they left before the wind got too strong and they got stranded beyond the Wall, cutting Jon's command short. She wondered if dying now would make him the shortest reigning lord commander in history.

Best not to find out.

"Three years," he said in amazement as Olly raced Ghost ahead of them.

"I know. I honestly can't believe it—can you?"

"No. A lot's changed. Too much."

She couldn't deny that, but Caitie had had enough melancholy for one day, and she could tell he had, too.

"Not all the change has been bad," she said, in an attempt to cheer both of them up. "You, for example, are much less insufferable."

"Insufferable," he repeated, voice flat.

"Oh, yes. You were so full of yourself."

For a moment, Jon looked like he was going to defend himself, but then he raised an eyebrow. "And you weren't?"

"Please—I was worse. Still am."

He shook his head, but Caitie could still see a smile on his face.

Seeing it, she continued with her teasing, though she kept her voice light so he would know she wasn't serious. "And Gods, you were morose. Though, that hasn't really changed. Not to mention your obsession with giving your life for the Watch." She rolled her eyes. "Ridiculous."

Now Jon glowered so deeply she wondered if the expression would be etched on his face for all eternity, and then some.

She sighed dramatically. "All right, all right, I'll stop. I apologize for teasing you, Lord Commander."

"I thought I told you not to call me that."

"It's not too late for me to call you Lord Fussy Breeches if you'd prefer."

His glower turned into a smirk. "Just for that, you have to read over the rest of my reports."

"Cruelty doesn't suit you."

"This, coming from the one who called me insufferable."

Well, Caitie couldn't deny that. And she still owed him quite a bit as it went. "Oh, all right, if you insist. I suppose it's the least I can do." She paused. "My lord."

Jon grumbled—brooding, as usual—the whole way home.

Well, some things never changed.

This chapter is honestly just some good fun because the next two are 90% angst. Again. Please kill me.

Olly's never confirmed as being an official black brother, but it just doesn't make sense if he isn't. How could he be Jon's steward otherwise?