Chapter Twenty-Three: The Confidants

Sam and I don't see much of each other later at dinner, and I decide to stay in my room writing when I wake in the middle of the night, so we don't really get a chance to interact until I meet up with him and Gilly in the library the next morning. When we do, I can't ignore the awkwardness of the situation. How do you conduct yourself around someone when you know what they've done? I can only keep myself cool and composed, as I did with Coin during the vote, but it's weird and harder to do when it's Samwell Tarly I'm dealing with here. He's too gentle and friendly, like Delly Cartwright, and how can anyone freeze out Delly? It's unthinkable. I have no experience with something like this.

I end up talking mostly to Gilly and giving Sam polite but terse responses. He doesn't catch on right away. Maybe he's too lovestruck by Gilly, or maybe he's just giving me the benefit of the doubt. But when Gilly leaves to fetch something from the ravenry, and it's just the two of us, the next two-worded answer I give him stands out in the silence of the library. It's too quick, too clipped, too obliging. Out of the corner of my eye, I see half the smile leave his face as he turns to me.

"Jon told you, didn't he?" Sam asks.

I finally look at him, if just to confirm with a slight eyebrow raise.

"I'm sorry," he says sincerely. "I know I shouldn't have done it, but—"

"You had a theory, and you were looking for evidence," I finish for him matter-of-factly.

Despite his obvious relief that Jon clarified he wasn't just being a creep, Sam still looks sheepish, which helps me remember that I'm not mad at him. Really, who am I to give him a hard time for spying?

"Well, I listened in on the election, so I guess we're even," I tell him, and he looks more relieved (and only a little surprised, so I wonder if Gilly already told him). "But you should have come to me." As an afterthought, I add, "And be more discreet. You almost got Jon thinking you're crazy."

"Better than his first thought when he found me in there," Sam says, blushing. "I would have gone to you about it, but I didn't know how to ask you without people overhearing and thinking we're both mad. I considered following you into the forest, but I thought it would be a bit... inappropriate."

"Like searching through a girl's things?" I offer.

"Yes," Sam says, resigned. "Like searching through a girl's things."

We're both quiet for a moment, but the prolonged silence allows a temptation to ferment inside my mind, building up until I can feel it bubbling on my tongue, ready to burst. Finally, I can't take it any longer. Before I can stop myself, what comes out of my mouth next is, "I mean, you're not wrong."

Sam stays fixated on the parchment in front of him. "I know, that's why I didn't do it," he says. "And besides, I'm sure I never would have caught up with you. I'm not a very good tracker—"

"Not what I was talking about," I say.

He furrows his forehead in thought, so I shift in my seat and give him a meaningful look to get the point across. It takes a few seconds but his eyes gradually grow wider in realization.

"I'm not?" he asks, soft and incredulous but pressing with a deeper question.

In response, I shake my head, and let another pronounced lift of my eyebrows say the rest.

This answer is more than satisfactory to Sam, whose expression changes from hesitation to delight in an instant. "I knew it," he says, hunching closer so that I can catch his conspiratorial whisper.

"But how did you know it?" I say. "Yeah, you're smart, but even in Panem, the concept of other worlds is… well, let's just say it wouldn't be my first thought. Until recently, I didn't even believe it was possible."

"Neither did I, at first," Sam admits. "It hadn't even crossed my mind until the Red Woman said to you, 'in this world or the other, there is no escaping it.'" I scoff, because of course it's the Red Woman who's blown my cover. "It sounded odd to me, but I couldn't stop thinking about it. And then, when I asked Jon if you told him where Panem was, he told me that all you said was 'worlds away.' Besides that, you never gave a specific answer as to how you got here. You only told Maester Aemon that it was hazy. Which means that either you honestly can't remember, or it was something you felt you wouldn't be able to explain."

"Or I was just concussed," I venture, shrugging. "Jon says you don't think I'm lying. Maybe I'm not, but I could be crazy. I could be suffering from psychological damage."

"You're not," Sam insists.

"I don't know. I wouldn't rule it out, myself," I mutter. For all I know, everything that has happened to me lately could be a long and elaborate dream. I don't know where it started – going through the portal, seeing it for the first time, maybe even getting the letter – but if it is, I'm not entirely sure I want to wake up.

"No," says Sam, shaking his head. "This is the only thing that makes sense." I laugh a little to myself, since the phrasing is generous. He looks over at me. "How did you get here?"

"Through a portal," I say, emphasizing the word with a lingering grin. "A doorway of energy and light. Does that still make sense to you?"

Sam smiles. "No more or less than your flashlight," he replies. "Or your... whatever that other thing was that lit up in your room."

"It's just something that holds memories from home," I say. Then my grin starts to fade, and I look over at him. "Sam, how good are you at keeping a secret?"

"Not very," he admits. "But who would believe me? Jon didn't."

"Who can blame him? He's got enough to worry about right now," I say. "You know, more realistic things. Like an army of dead people on the march." Even though I've seen them myself, I have a hard time keeping a straight face, and Sam gives a nervous, sympathetic chuckle because he knows how it must sound. As it dies down, my mood sobers, and I fix him with a much sterner look. "Seriously, Sam. This has to stay between us."

Pale eyes wide with understanding, Sam's in the middle of a solemn but emphatic nod when suddenly a voice comes from behind. "What has to stay between you?"

Gilly. She's come back from the ravenry. I have no idea how long she's been there, but she's watching us like a hawk, eyes darting furtively back and forth between Sam and me.

Sam regards her with slight surprise, then looks back at me hopefully.

"I can't keep this from Gilly," he says, practically pleading with his eyes. "And who is she going to tell, really?"

This gives me pause, and I take a moment to consider Gilly. Sam does have a good point. Besides that, she looks vaguely jealous, or suspicious at least, and I'd much rather let her in on it than get caught up in a fresh batch of relationship drama over a misunderstanding.

"All right," I concede, and motion toward the table. "Have a seat, Gilly. This is going to be a little hard to take in."

It's easier than I expected. There is some resistance at first, and Gilly almost leaves the room firing accusations of us meeting alone in the library and cooking up this lie to make fun of her. Sam rushes to reassure her, but I understand the mistrust. The Katniss from a year ago would have suspected a trick more easily than she would have accepted the possibility of other worlds. Yet here I am. Existing in a place where dead people march in an army, and dragons live just a continent away from us, and a red priestess knows things about my life that she shouldn't thanks to a tip-off from the Lord of Light. A place where I've made friends with a princess, a steward, a direwolf, a lord commander, and a wildling.

When I tell her this, she looks into my eyes and calms some, drifting back to the table and sitting down. She listens as I explain more, they both listen as I talk of losing Peeta and Prim, of trying and failing to live in District 12 without them, of getting the letter from Beetee that changed everything. They're sympathetic, of course, but riveted when I get to the part with the portal. Even Sam doesn't seem fully convinced Beetee isn't a wizard. Though, how do you explain the difference between a wizard and an inventor in Panem who has access to more resources and technology? I'm not all that sure there is one.

But by the end, I've gained something valuable. Two of my truest allies in this world, confidants who have taken some of the weight of my secret off of my shoulders. It feels good to have people here I can talk to about this, and visible people too, so it doesn't look like I'm talking to myself. Their unwavering faith reminds me even more of Delly, who I find myself actually missing because of it, but also makes it so much easier to finally speak freely.

"So you just… stepped through?" says Gilly. "And it brought you here, beyond the Wall?"

I nod. "The Haunted Forest, or somewhere in that area."

"Unfortunate place for it to spit you out," Sam remarks. "How long was it before the wights were upon you?"

"Couple of hours," I say, "but I wasn't heading south until Benjen told me to." A thought that I can't quite place begins to gnaw at me. "Where did you two see them? When you were out there."

"It was closer to the Wall, between here and Craster's Keep," Gilly answers. "But it was just the one. The White Walker who had followed us to take my baby."

"As for the army, I saw it marching toward the Fist of the First Men," says Sam. Then, more curiously, "Why do you ask?"

Good question. I'm still wondering that myself. "Just a feeling," I mutter.

I find a map of Westeros, including the lands beyond the Wall, and bring it to the table, quietly scouring it while I let Gilly and Sam go back to what they were doing before we veered so long and far off-course. Craster's Keep I find quickly, since it's just east of my world entrance spot. I might've even found it if I hadn't decided to follow the river instead. The Fist of the First Men is northwest of both of these points. Sam said the army was marching south when he saw them, but what about the ones that chased me down? I know Sam saw the army before he brought Gilly and Little Sam down from Craster's Keep to Castle Black, and that was just after Little Sam was born, so it had to be more than a few months ago. Maybe a year or two. If ten wights were close enough to find me mere weeks ago…

I wrinkle my forehead, trying to figure something out. From how Jon made it sound, you have to be touched by a White Walker somehow to become undead. There used to be one near Craster's Keep, but Sam killed it long ago. So either my attackers were turned by that one before it was killed, or they came as stragglers from the army. How far away was I from thousands of dead soldiers before Benjen turned me around? Or are they just scattered all over the place? I prefer this thought to Benjen charging straight north and facing the entire army on his own, even if he himself is dead. But, factoring in their speed of travel, likely lack of need for sleep, and time since Sam saw them, the uncertainty of their location is bugging me.

Finally, I break the silence and ask, "Where's Hardhome?"

"Hardhome?" Sam glances over at the map in interest, pleased to answer another question. "It's off to the east. Right… there." He points to the end of a peninsula jutting out into the Shivering Sea.

"Would the White Walkers go that far east?" I ask, hovering my finger from The Fist, to Craster's Keep, to Hardhome. "I mean, how sure are we of where they're going? Are they sentient, or are they mindlessly going straight south? If you saw them at The Fist whenever you did, where would they be right now if they were going south without having to rest?"

Sam takes a moment to mull it over, which is fair, since that was a lot of questions at once. "I don't know," he admits, glancing at the map. "The ones I saw were moving leisurely. Not like the ones who chased you. But it doesn't take two years to get from the Fist to the Wall, if you don't need to eat and sleep. Something else must be slowing them down."

There's a pause, before Gilly asks quietly, "What does 'sentient' mean?"

"Being able to think or feel or understand things," I say. "You know, use sense and make decisions."

Gilly contemplates this briefly. "That White Walker was able to find us when we took Little Sam," she says. "It knew to come to Craster's Keep whenever he took the boys into the woods. I think the White Walkers are sentient. The rest just go wherever they lead them."

I nod, but while Sam gazes admiringly at Gilly for her insights, they only add to my unease. The army could be anywhere, and those wights that came after me are our only clue.

"You don't think they're headed south?" Sam asks, once he's taken his eyes off Gilly.

"Not the ones I met out there, at least," I tell him. "I don't know, maybe they broke away from the pack when they spotted me. Or maybe they already had by then. But I was going east, so…" I trail off, staring at the map. "I'd just feel a lot better if I knew where they are right now. If they aren't coming straight for us, then where are the White Walkers leading them? What do they want first that could make them go off-course?"

Sam and Gilly exchange glances, but it's Gilly who answers. "More sons," she says softly, and looks at Sam again. "More wildlings."

A chill passes through me at what she's suggesting. That the undead are not simply traveling south and cutting down anyone who gets in their way. They are on a Victory Tour of death, going out of their way to slaughter all the wildlings they can possibly add to their army.

"I take it there are a lot of wildlings at Hardhome…?" I venture.

"It's a known wildling settlement," Sam says. "You saw the size of their army when you were beyond the Wall. If there was one place most of them would've gone after Stannis defeated them, it would be Hardhome."

I stare at the map, hoping I'm wrong. If Jon is going there, it's because he's trying to save their lives. And if that's the case, he believes the White Walkers could be coming their way. I just have to be sure he's going to get there first.

"I need to talk to Beetee," I say, starting to stand up. Then it occurs to me that I don't have to go anywhere. "I usually go to the forest to get ahold of him, but seeing as there aren't any secrets between us now, do you mind if I do it here?"

"No, not at all, go right ahead," Sam says encouragingly, though clearly somewhat puzzled by the request. Gilly looks intrigued, especially when I reveal my earpiece to them in the palm of my hand.

"Just to show you I'm not talking to myself," I assure them, before fixing it into place and adjusting my barely visible microphone. Getting up from the table, I move more towards the shelves to be less of a distraction while I reach out to contact Beetee.

When he answers, I tell him I need a favor that is more important than the multipurpose earpiece project. "Is there a way we can send some kind of camera out to fly overhead? See if we can locate the wights and the direction they're going?" I ask. "I know what Plutarch said about drones being a thing of the past, but—"

"—if anyone could bring back the technology, it would be me?" Beetee finishes for me, sounding pleased. "What Plutarch likely meant was military drones. The type of drone you're looking for won't provide an aerial attack, but it will provide an aerial view. Besides, you're talking to the victor from District 3. I can design one just as easily as I can acquire one for you. It shouldn't be a problem at all."

"Thank you," I say with a sigh of relief. "There's a wildling settlement way off to the east called Hardhome. I need to know if it's safe."

"I'll need to have a look at a map again, once you get back inside," Beetee says. "Are you at the weirwood tree now? I can get the drone, program it, and release it within a few hours, but it might not end up happening today."

"That's fine," I say, going back to the table. "I'm not in the woods right now. I'm in the library with Sam and Gilly."

There's a pause, as I'm sure Beetee is bemused that I'm not speaking in hushed tones. "You told them?"

"Sam already figured it out," I say, and sit back down in front of the map. "You want to say hello to them while I turn my camera on?"

Captivated yet careful, Gilly and Sam take turns awkwardly positioning the earpiece and daring to speak into the microphone. I almost forget about the map and the camera in favor of watching the looks on their faces the moment they hear Beetee for the first time.

"How are you doing that?" Gilly asks when it's her turn. "Sending your voice through this little thing in my ear."

I barely bite back a wince, hoping Beetee has the sense to tell her the short, simplified version. But Gilly listens, enraptured, and gets so invested in the conversation that Sam has to clear his throat and politely gesture with his eyes for her to hand it back.

"He says it's like Panem's version of sending a raven," she informs us. "But instead of scrolls, it's bringing 'sound waves' and 'audio signals.'"

"Or, like two ravens that share one mind," I offer. "So instead of giving the raven a scroll, you tell it yourself and the other raven hears it and... tells someone else." Gilly and Sam share covert grins at my efforts, and I hear Beetee already chuckling before I put the earpiece back in. "Hey, at least my explanation didn't involve the use of the term 'audio signals,'" I say defensively.

"No, it made sense. I liked it," Gilly is quick to reassure me, eyes crinkling with mirth.

Though still under the vague suspicion that they're humoring me, I let myself grin and lean forward to give Beetee a close view of the map. While he studies it, I point to the places where Sam, Gilly, and I have all encountered the dead.

"Well, with an army of that size, they shouldn't be hard to locate from above," Beetee reasons. "I can release a drone. I can make that happen. It can be ready by tonight, but I don't know if the Watch will want to let you go through the gate after nightfall. So my main question is, do you want to wait until tomorrow so we can ultimately make sure it comes through and takes off all right, or should I try to release it tonight by myself, perhaps someplace closer to where you had your run-in with the dead?"

"Go ahead and do it tonight," I say. "The sooner the better. The dead don't rest."

Besides, he doesn't need my help with this. He's Beetee. Whatever he sends through that portal is going to do exactly what it came here to do.

"All right, then," says Beetee. "All I need now is a place to send it to."

"Like a landmark? I would think the first entrance point would be the best place for it," I point out.

"Yes, but you didn't spend very much time there," Beetee remarks. "It's funny, but the strongest, most reliable connections I've established with Westeros are the places where you stayed in one place the longest. Especially places that aren't just forest or stretches of land or snow. Having a good visualization of where I'm sending it to would help immensely."

All right, landmarks… landmarks… Preferably farther north than the weirwood tree. The problem is that the spots I made camp were usually trees in the middle of the forest. But then the perfect place hits me.

"Do you remember that cave?" I ask, instantly warmed by the memory of its hot springs.

"The one by the river, yes…" Beetee says, and I can tell he likes the idea.

I knew there was a reason I stayed there as long as I did. Actually, there were many reasons. Sometimes I don't know why I'm still freezing my toes off at Castle Black when I could go back there and dip them in its steaming pools. "You could send it out there and follow the river northeast to Craster's Keep," I say.

"It's burnt to the ground," Sam adds in.

"The ruins of Craster's Keep," I revise. "Then you could just keep going east from there. If you hit ocean, looks like you could go north until you reach Hardhome—"

A purposeful thump of footsteps causes all of us in the library to flinch and glance up in surprise. Standing in the doorway at the bottom of the stone steps is Jon Snow, his smoldering grey eyes locked on me.

"Sam. Night's Watch meeting in fifteen minutes," he says curtly. "Might want to wrap things up in here."

Sam nods and starts rolling up some of his scrolls. "Oh. What about?" he asks.

"You don't know?" There's an edge to Jon's voice, a chill to match the room, and his eyes still have not left mine.

My cheeks feel flushed, but something about this look is sending shivers through the rest of me. Like when Peeta was brought to Thirteen, and I confused rage for desire and it earned me a strong grip and then a cold collar around my throat. For this reason, I don't know what to make of this look. I get the distinct feeling that I've said or done something wrong. A brief glance at Sam and Gilly tells me they're just as confused as I am.

After a beat, the tense silence is broken by Jon. "Why were you talking about Hardhome?" he asks briskly.

Oh. My pulse hiccups in realization at what he's walked in on. I can see how this might sound bad. Luckily, Sam picks up on my alarm and comes to the rescue. "She just wanted to know where it was," he answers for me.

"Why, were you planning on going there?" His voice cuts quick and cold, like Longclaw.

It's his attitude that strikes a nerve with me, though, and I bristle by instinct. But before I match his stony expression with one of my own, I notice something about him that throws me off. Something behind the frigid, guarded look in his eyes. This isn't frosty, wrathful anger borne as a result of my alleged disobedience. Beneath that layer of ice, he seems genuinely upset, even taken aback. As if what he's just overheard is one big slap in the face to him. As if he is utterly bowled over by the fact that I would reveal things he said to me in confidence and is finally seeing me in a new light. I cannot be trusted.

For a moment, I almost believe it myself. I let him look at me like that, and a sick feeling rolls in my stomach as it flings me into the hospital room with Peeta in Thirteen when I knew he was finally seeing me as I was. Not some enchanting songbird he fell in love with but the fickle, manipulative Girl on Fire. Perhaps Jon is seeing past Benjen Stark's messenger to the mouthy mockingjay who thinks the rules don't apply to her and has gotten too comfortable here.

Except this actually feels like a huge overreaction on Jon's part, because I didn't even tell them anything, and he can't have heard much or else he would have a lot more questions. And even if I did say anything, it's Sam and Gilly. Surely he has even more reason to trust them with secrets than I do. Indignant, I swallow past the lump in my throat and force a reply.

"Not really," I say, keeping my tone and expression deadpan. "When the time comes that I've overstayed my welcome here, for obvious reasons I'd rather go south, not farther north."

There's a shift in his features, and I think he can tell he's offended me, but he still looks doubtful. "I heard you giving directions to it. From Craster's Keep."

This time Gilly speaks up. "You said my sisters wanted to find their own way after it burned to the ground," she says demurely. "I've wondered if perhaps they went to Hardhome. It might be cursed, but some of them used to whisper that it was our best chance of refuge north of the Wall."

I do my best to keep my features in place, but inwardly, Gilly has impressed me. She never said that was exactly what we were talking about, but also it has the benefit of not being a lie. It may even be true. When the thought strikes me, so does a feeling of real sympathy for her. She has no idea where her family is. Or if they've made it this far, lasted this long on their own.

Jon seems to buy this, the doubt that furrowed his forehead now fully turned on himself. But there's wariness and hurt that still fogs his eyes, and my own upset only increases. We've given him a plausible explanation, so take the knife out already! Why is he still twisting?

It occurs to me that I don't have to take this, so I roll up the map and rise from my seat to put it away. "Better go check on Maester Aemon and see how he and Little Sam are doing," I say, talking mostly for myself but leaving the invitation open for Gilly to follow. "Let these two get ready for their meeting."

After making sure I haven't left anything behind – no need for Jon to go to the trouble of returning it to my room — I try to breeze past him toward the doorway. I move so swiftly it takes him by surprise, but he recovers in time to call out to me before I've reached the staircase. "Have you been talking to the Red Woman lately?"

The question alone would give me reason to hesitate, but it's the accusation in his voice that makes me whirl back around. I look him straight in the eyes, feeling inexplicably angrier. "Not if I can help it," I shoot back, silently reminding him that he's the one who was alone in a room with her last. What does she have to do with anything anyway? The irrelevance, the distrust, even the thought of them alone together (whatever was said or done), it all adds fuel to the fire that is burning away at me. But that's what she wants, isn't it? My fire. So I conjure up my ice instead and regard him with a much cooler look.

"Will that be all, Lord Commander?" I say in monotone.

I barely wait for a response. He's in mid-nod when I turn on my heel and escape up the stone staircase.

Halfway up, I can hear Sam's voice saying, "What was that about?" But I don't stop to hear an explanation. I keep going until I've pushed through each door and made it outside to the courtyard. Only then do I catch my breath, and I find that each one is painful and shuddering. It is to my utter mortification that I realize I am on the brink of tears, and the only thing that stops me from crying is the memory that Beetee could still be hearing all this.

With trembling fingers, I turn off my devices and end the connection. Of course, that's when Gilly catches up with me and asks if I'm alright, so I pull myself together and walk with her to the maester's quarters, thanking her for covering for me and asking about her sisters.

The subject change is a success and lasts for a while as we take over for another steward who's off to join the meeting, partially because I am as genuinely curious as she is genuinely concerned for them. I think when it comes to our sisters, her circumstances might be worse, because I know where Prim is. She's gone, for good. No one can hurt her anymore. But Gilly doesn't know where her sisters are. If they found a way past the Wall like she did, or if they're all somewhere beyond it. If they're at Hardhome like she guessed. If they're dead or alive. She just doesn't know.

Ultimately, though, all that does is bring my thoughts back to Jon. He has loved ones missing too, including at least one beyond the Wall. No, two if you count Benjen. And that just reminds me that there is at least one good reason for Jon not to trust me, even if he doesn't know it. I remember how betrayed I felt when Gale didn't tell me about Peeta's propo with Caesar. But Benjen asked me not to tell Jon, and at the time, I believed that was for the best. That I was only doing as told, and we were both trying to spare his feelings. I wonder if, back then, Gale was telling himself the exact same thing.

At least now I know what it looks like for Jon to become disillusioned with me. Even if it was for something I didn't do, it was still bound to happen sooner or later.

I don't understand why he got that upset, how my perceived betrayal could cut him that deep.

I just know that the moment I tell him about Benjen, not only will I see that look on his face again, but this time I will deserve it.

A/N: Thanks for all new faves/follows/reviews!