CW for mentions of attempted rape and an intense emotional reaction to it.
Caitie couldn't help feeling nervous upon returning to Castle Black.
She didn't know why, really; she missed almost everything about it: the smell of smoke from the hearth in the long hall, the sound of steel in the training yard, and the safe feeling she always had in the pantry. She missed the smell of books in the library and Maester Aemon's calming presence. She even missed the ale.
Most of all, she missed Sam, Gilly, and Little Sam—her family.
So, if anything, she should have been ecstatic to get back home, to sleep in her bed for the first time in a month. To see her friends and forget the destruction of Hardhome as best she could, even if, in her heart, she knew she never would. It was a nice thought, at least.
Yet, she had a strange feeling when she got home, something terrible would happen. The feeling refused to go away, no matter how hard she tried to push it back.
Maybe it had to do with their new allies. This was history in the making, Caitie knew; the first time the Night's Watch would ever welcome Wildlings to Castle Black. It was a privilege to be a part of it, however small her part had been. But there was also no telling what might happen once the Wildlings and black brothers came face to face.
For one scary moment upon their arrival, Caitie had thought Thorne might even bar their entry to the castle. In the end, he hadn't, allowing the Night's Watch to raise the outer gate for them. But it still set a bad precedent, and because of it, Caitie braced herself for the worst.
She, Jon, and Edd led the procession of Wildlings through the outer gate. Immediately upon crossing through into the tunnel, Caitie felt confined, like the walls of the tunnel were caving in. The giant behind her only made it worse, following her through the tunnel, a terrible shade of what had come before. Jon brushed his hand against hers for comfort, but he couldn't do much else—not with the others watching from behind.
When they reached the inner gate, they all took a collective breath.
"You ready?" Edd asked.
Jon smiled mirthlessly. "Not really."
"Yeah," he sighed, "me neither."
Caitie put on a brave face; it seemed she would have to be the strong one for the moment. She could do that, she decided, so long as they left the tunnel. "Well," she said, "it can't be worse than White Walkers."
Edd rolled his eyes, but he still nudged her shoulder with his own.
Jon signaled for the gate to open. It creaked as it rose, letting them walk through to the courtyard. The entirety of Castle Black waited for them, none looking happy, but when Caitie saw Sam, they faded away, invisible to her.
"What in Seven Hells happened to you?" she exclaimed. He had a nasty scrape on the side of his head, a bruise on the other, and the faint markings of a black eye that hadn't quite healed. He favored his left side, too—Caitie thought he might have broken a rib. When she spoke, he winced. She couldn't tell if it was because of her question, or because he was in pain.
From beside Caitie, Edd observed him. "You look like shit."
And still, Sam said nothing.
"Sam?" Jon asked.
"It's… a long story." His eyes darted between the three of them, but soon they settled on Caitie. "You won't like it."
Her whole body went rigid, her mind going through every possibility—especially the worst. "Gilly—"
"She's fine," Sam promised. "So is Little Sam. Some of our brothers… They attacked her in the kitchens." He sounded like he was in pain. "I tried to stop it. They would have killed me and raped her if it hadn't been for Ghost."
Gods. That direwolf was going to get as many treats as he wanted for as long as he lived, if Caitie had anything to say on the subject.
Edd pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something under his breath. He didn't contribute anything else to the conversation, but the sentiment was clear enough: Edd was just as furious as the rest of them.
"They broke your nose," Caitie said.
Sam smiled tentatively. "Well, all great warriors have a few battle scars."
She flung her arms around his neck. "You idiot!" she cried, burrowing her head into his shoulder. "I shouldn't be half as proud of you as I am."
He patted her back, chuckling.
After they'd pulled apart, Jon cleared his throat. "I'm glad you're all right," he said. "But I need to know—has there been any word from Stannis?"
Caitie's thoughts immediately went to Shireen. The snowstorm that was descending on Castle Black—it would move south, and sooner rather than later. If Stannis didn't take Winterfell in the next fortnight—maybe even less—his army might be trapped before they could.
"Not yet." Sam wrung his hands nervously, the way he did when he had to say something he'd rather not.
"Sam?" Caitie probed.
"There's—there's more," he said weakly. "Maester Aemon's passed."
The news shouldn't have hit her as hard as it did. Yet, it hurt like losing Owen and Cerys all over again. She tried to remind herself that he was ready. He had made peace with the Stranger, and with death itself. He was old and tired and ready to be with his brother.
But she had only just gotten to know him. He was the first person to call her Riona in three years. She hadn't even gotten to say goodbye—just like everyone else she'd ever lost.
Caitie wished she had spent more time in the library before the battle at Castle Black. She wished she'd told him just how much she appreciated everything he'd done for her; how the world had been a better place with him in it.
"I'm sorry, Sam," Jon said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I know you were close."
"Thank you, Jon."
Caitie swallowed her tears and whispered, "Was it painless?"
Sam nodded. "He saw Egg again. He was happy, I think, at the last."
Se sir zȳhon urnēbagon iksos keliton, she thought.
And now his watch is ended.
On that melancholy note, their conversation ended; they watched the Wildlings pass through the courtyard and out the southern gate, walking in pairs of twos and threes. Caitie wiped a stray tear away and hugged her arms to herself.
"We got your raven," Sam said eventually. "You can tell me the details later, but…" He swallowed. "Are you all right?"
"It was a failure," Jon said.
Sam watched the procession of Wildlings with sympathy. "It wasn't."
"I went to save them; I failed."
"You didn't fail him," Sam countered, nodding towards one of the passing Wildlings. After a moment, he nodded at another. "Or him." The last nod went towards a little girl in her father's arms. "Or her. Every one of them is alive because of you, and no one else."
Jon glanced over Sam's shoulder. "I don't think that fact's lost on them."
She, Sam, and Edd followed his gaze, over to where the senior officers—Bowen Marsh, Othell Yarwyck, One-eyed Joe, and a few others—stood, grim-faced. Caitie gulped at the expressions of pure loathing on their face. Jon wrenched his eyes away to take note of the rest of the courtyard, only to find the same expressions on almost every single black brother in the vicinity.
When the giant appeared, those grim faces morphed into horror, though the giant seemed unphased by it. As he passed by, Caitie and her friends looked up at him. Her whole body stiffened when he looked back; though the eye contact lasted only a second, it felt like an eternity until he broke it and lumbered on.
With their view unobstructed, Caitie followed Jon's gaze up to the balcony on the other side of the courtyard, squinting to see what had caught his eye. Olly stood partially hidden by shadows, but she could still make out the expression on his face—or lack of one. It was the same emotionless expression he'd worn the last time she spoke to him. Jon smiled, but it came as no surprise when Olly didn't return it. He held the lord commander's gaze with that horrible, blank look before he stormed off and out of sight. Jon's smile fell.
Noticing the look on Jon's face, Sam opened his mouth to speak, only halting when something behind them caught his eye. Caitie looked over her shoulder, stopping short when she saw Ser Alliser Thorne coming their way. Without a word, Sam grabbed her arm. He dragged her along with him, leaving Jon to deal with the first ranger alone. Caitie didn't like leaving Jon, but she didn't complain either, for she knew her presence would only incense the first ranger further.
She and Sam wandered through the crowd until they came across Tormund, standing at the base of the southern gate, looking grim. Ever since they'd docked at Eastwatch, he hadn't smiled once. There were shadows beneath his eyes, and he kept his hands on his hips, eyes roaming the courtyard, checking for threats.
Caitie couldn't blame him. He'd never found his younger daughter—they could only assume she'd perished at Hardhome along with her sister.
Willa and Johnna stood on either side of him. When he saw her and Sam approach, he gave her a solemn nod. "Caitie."
"Tormund," she replied. "Is everything going all right?"
Instead of answering her question, he asked, "This village—Queenscrown—how far is it?"
"A few days' walk, with your children and elderly. Jon says you passed through there, after you…" Caitie didn't know how to put the rest tactfully. Queenscrown had been the place they went after scaling the Wall—the place where Jon finally turned on the Wildlings, including both Tormund and Ygritte, and fled back home.
Tormund didn't seem to find the mention of their past conflict as awkward as Caitie. "And what's so good about it, again?"
She sighed. Jon had already explained to Tormund which village he wanted to send the Wildlings and why, but she supposed she couldn't deny Tormund his lingering doubts.
"Well, besides Mole's Town, it's the only village large enough to accommodate all your people. It's near enough to Castle Black that we can communicate quickly, but still far enough away from the Kingsroad or mountains—and well concealed by trees—so that none of the houses there will see you and mistake you for an enemy," she said, imagining what her father would do if he found out that Wildlings were living near his domain.
That his own daughter had been intimately involved in the process would only infuriate him even more. For that reason, Caitie hoped he would find out one day—preferably with her telling him.
"It also has a steady source of water," Sam added helpfully.
Tormund, who apparently hadn't noticed the person beside Caitie, eyed him with apprehension and confusion, apparently unimpressed with the sight.
"Oh," Caitie said, "I'm sorry—I should have introduced you first. This is Samwell Tarly. He's a friend. Sam this is—"
"You're not coming with us," Johnna interrupted, looking less than pleased, with her arms crossed and eyes narrowed at Caitie.
"I have a duty here," she said. When Johnna's expression didn't change, Caitie added, "I should have thought you'd be pleased to finally get rid of me."
Johnna just shrugged. "You're better at braiding Willa's hair than I am, and I don't want to listen to her complaining."
"Hey!" Willa cried. "I don't complain! But Johnna is right, Caitie. You're much better at it."
Caitie couldn't help the fond smile that spread across her face. Willa still had bouts of grieving—she would for the rest of her life—but her personality was one of perpetual cheerfulness.
"I'm sure you'll be able to find someone else who can do it even better than me," Caitie said.
"But I like the way you do it," replied Willa. "Are you sure you can't come?"
"I'll visit." Caitie bent down, so she was eye-level. "You have my word."
"Ooh, or I'll come back and you can take me up to the top of the Wall again."
Johnna sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "You got scared and made the lord commander bring you down last time."
"But I still liked it," Willa replied. "I won't get scared next time, I promise."
"I believe you," said Caitie. "Next time you come visit, I'll take you up again." Seeing the tail end of the Wildling line, she added, "You should probably get a move on before you fall behind."
Johnna and Willa both looked to Tormund, who nodded in agreement. "Find Dim Dalba," he said. "He'll watch out for you until I'm done here."
Both girls nodded. "Bye, Caitie," said Willa with a reluctant wave.
Johnna took her sister's hand. She opened her mouth to say something, but before she could, she seemed to think better of it, and her jaw clicked shut. Finally, she allowed herself a smile. "Thanks."
Caitie watched the two disappear into the crowd until Tormund cleared his throat. "That cunt over there," he said, nodding towards where Ser Alliser stood, eyes narrowed, looking even less pleasant than usual. She couldn't see Jon anywhere. "Almost killed him, you know."
Caitie laughed. "Just between you and me, I wish you had."
Tormund grinned. "Maybe next time." He held his hand out for her to take, and she accepted. "See you, Lady Crow."
"See you, Giantsbane."
After the last of the Wildings had filed out the gate, Tormund followed, and the iron and wood gates shut behind him. Caitie looked around the courtyard. Previously filled to the brim and full of activity, without the Wildlings filing through, it looked empty and desolate. She had gotten so used to the presence of Johnna and Willa, now that they were gone, everything seemed too quiet.
She was going to miss them. Tormund too, for that matter. They weren't Wildlings to her any longer. They were… well, Free Folk, she supposed. She'd never thought there was a difference between the two terms, but upon meeting Johnna, Willa, Tormund, and so many others, she could see that there absolutely was a difference.
They weren't wild. They were simply free.
"You made friends," Sam said, breaking her train of thought.
She snorted. "I happen to be a very friendly person, you know."
He laughed, but it turned into a wince quickly after, and his hands went to clutch his side. "Oh, don't make me laugh."
Frowning, Caitie took in the sight of his wounds for a second time. "We're going to have to have a discussion about what happened at some point."
Sam sighed. "It can wait until this evening. I'm sure Jon will call a meeting now that you're all back."
"And then you'll tell me?" she asked.
"I'll tell you everything," Sam replied. "I promise."
"I want names," Caitie snapped, pacing the length of the Lord Commander's office. She blew past both her friends, at the end of her rope after the last few hours.
While she paced, Jon sat at his desk, lighting a second candle as dusk ended and night darkened the room. Sam had taken up the stool next to the table with a scroll in hand. His eyes followed her as she walked back and forth, over and over.
Until now, the three of them hadn't had a chance to speak alone. Immediately after the gate had closed, Jon had called a meeting of the Night's Watch. Whatever horror she had expected to endure upon returning home, the last few hours had exceeded it.
Four brawls had broken out during the meeting, and five brothers had ended up confined to their quarters for the night. There were only three besides her, Edd, and Sam who had been receptive to Jon's decision: Hobb, the steward Dareon, and the builder Halder. The other forty-three ranged from lukewarm to having surpassed furious about ten leagues back.
If only Maester Aemon had been there. Everyone, even Thorne, had respected him. He could have soothed the tensions. He could have—
She stopped the train of thought before it took on a life of its own. Maester Aemon was dead—at peace, she hoped—and they would just have to deal without him.
Olly hadn't said a word at the meeting, keeping a tight lid on his emotions. Caitie had kept a keen eye on him throughout it, wanting to say something to him, but not wanting to make it any worse than she already had. In the end, Caitie thought Shireen had been right—she was powerless to change his mind or make the situation better.
Powerless to do anything at all.
Just like Olly and the White Walkers and the Boltons, the Night's Watch infighting wasn't a problem she could solve. But once Sam had told her the details of his and Gilly's attack—how close the two brothers had gotten to killing Sam and raping Gilly—she had a matter she could solve.
Ghost had only scared the attackers off, not actually harmed them. Whoever they were, they deserved much, much worse than a direwolf growling at them.
The problem lay with the fact that Jon couldn't do anything about it—at least, not officially. He had no proof, besides Sam and Gilly's word. And as the brothers never succeeded in raping Gilly, showing that kind of favoritism would only add to Jon's growing political fiasco.
Caitie, on the other hand, had a bit of leeway, although Sam disagreed.
"Caitie," he sighed, "I want to see them punished, too. But I'm fine, and so is Gilly. Jon is back now, and no one would try to hurt us with him here. I don't want to see you do something that could get you into trouble—"
"I wouldn't. I know what I'm doing."
"Kitty—"
"They could have killed you, Sam. They would have killed you if it hadn't been for Ghost. And raped Gilly. Don't think I've forgotten that bit—and don't think I haven't noticed that she didn't greet us when we got back."
"She and I agreed it would be safer from now on if she didn't go places alone, and stay out of sight as much as she can."
Caitie bit back a scoff. As soon as she finished up with Jon and Sam, she'd be going to ask Gilly how she felt about that deal. Caitie had meant to go see her immediately upon their return, but that dreadful meeting had taken up all her time—and all her thoughts.
She placed her hands on the table and leaned forward. She'd already accepted she couldn't do anything about the White Walkers and the Boltons and the Night's Watch, but she could do something about this. She had to. "Names, Samwell."
Though Jon looked up from the scrolls on his desk to observe their argument, he didn't interrupt, preferring to let the two of them sort this out for themselves rather than step in.
After a pause, Sam sighed. "It was Brant and Derek."
Caitie froze. The blood drained from her face. "Are you sure?" she asked in a voice so quiet and deadly that Sam inched back in his seat.
"I… I'm sure."
When she looked back over at Jon, she noticed he had frozen too—remembering what the name meant as well as she did. That horrible day would be burned into both of them for as long as they lived.
Without a word, she spun around and walked towards the door.
"Wait, Caitie!" Sam called. "What are you gonna do? You can't kill them!"
Caitie ignored him. She may well have been a wight, for her mind had gone blank, with the exception of one word: Brant. Brant, who had tried to rape her after the battle of Castle Black; who had only stopped because of Jon and Ghost; who had, instead, gone after her friends. He had tried to do to Caitie and Gilly what black brothers had done to Danny Flint.
You'll never escape the fate the gods have written.
Her hands balled into fists. She was not Danny Flint. She would never be Danny Flint. Caitie was the second-best swordsman at Castle Black. She had survived White Walkers, black brothers, mutineers, Free Folk—she could handle two measly little stewards.
Justice needed to be served, and Jon couldn't be the one to do it. But she could.
"Jon," Sam said, "stop her."
This time, Caitie turned back around, meeting Jon's eyes. For a moment, they held each other's gaze. But then, his lids closed and he nodded once, giving his consent. When he opened his eyes again, they landed on Sam. "I don't think all the Gods could stop her if they tried."
When she caught his eye again, she didn't speak, but she hoped Jon knew how grateful she was to him for allowing her to do this. For trusting her.
Without another word, she marched out of the office, down the hall, lost in her head as she came up with a plan. Brant and Derek usually came in a pair—the day Brant had tried to rape Caitie was unusual for him. They always ate in the main hall together, especially in the evenings, because they were watch partners.
She knew the general rotation—they'd be on duty tonight. The top of the Wall was isolated from the rest of Castle Black, and no one else was there at night, which meant no witnesses. The perfect conditions. It was as she had this thought that she rounded a corner and barreled headfirst into Edd.
One look, and he knew. "You're gonna go after them."
She glared up at him, waiting for him to tell her that her plans were reckless, childish, stupid, or a combination of the three. But he didn't. Instead, his lips curved up, and he crossed his arms. "Good. So am I."
She blinked. "You are?"
He raised an eyebrow. "Don't look so surprised. I remember what Brant did to you after the battle. Bad enough he got away with it then."
"But you're Dolorous Edd. You're supposed to tell me I'm being an idiot."
"They attacked their brother, broke their vows, hurt my friends. I might not have protected Sam before, but I'm damn well gonna do it now." For a split second, Caitie wondered if she had bumped her head. But Edd had changed since the battle at the Fist of the First Men. Maybe this was more like him than she gave him credit for.
A thought occurred. "Wait a minute—how did you even know who Gilly's attackers were?"
"Hobb told me. He'd've come, but he's all guilt-ridden for leaving Gilly alone in the kitchens. Hasn't left her side since. Says he'll put anyone else who tries hurting her or Sam to the meat cleaver."
Somehow, Caitie found herself smiling, in spite of all the anger. "Good. I'm glad."
Edd nodded in agreement. "So. You have a plan, right? 'Cause we can't just kill them. If anyone found out you were involved, they'd want you executed."
She smiled, feeling the same immutable excitement as when they'd gone after the mutineers. "Oh, Edd," she said, "You should know by now—I always have a plan."
At the top of the Wall, Caitie sat lazily on a crate in a shadowy alcove with her legs crossed, holding a whetstone in one hand and Owen in the other. Cerys sat within her reach on the next crate over. She could feel the vial of poison on her belt, resting against her thigh, too, but Caitie knew she wouldn't need it here.
She kept her ears alert for movement. Brant and Derek would soon start their watch for the night. They would make their way from the elevator to the scaffolding, where they could see large swaths of the north, though there was little point in patrolling the area anymore.
Caitie's alcove was right behind where they would stand. When Brant and Derek came, she'd be ready. Her boiling rage had simmered into a slow-cooked fury—less explosive, but equally dangerous. She couldn't kill them; Edd had been right about that. But she could make their life a hell of a lot more difficult.
There was a chill in the night air as she waited, but Caitie barely felt it, busy keeping her eyes locked on the elevator shaft. She didn't have long to wait before she saw the little box come into view, accompanied by its usual creaking noise, finally coming to a halt at the top of the Wall.
Derek pushed the elevator door open and stepped out onto the walkways, Brant right behind him. Side by side, they made their way towards their destination—and towards Caitie.
They didn't notice her at first, but that was okay. She cleared her throat and plastered on a pleasant smile. "Hello."
Brant and Derek both stiffened at the sound of her voice before they turned around to face her. "What're you doing up here?" Brant asked. He kept his distance, but she could still see the animosity he felt towards her written on his face.
"Waiting for you," she said. Her cheerful tone didn't waver, and her smile stayed perfectly vicious. "I heard there was a bit of an incident while I was away. Care to tell me what happened?"
"I'm not telling you anything," he spat. "Now get the fuck out of here." Caitie could see his eyes darting around, looking for threats. Jon had put the fear of the Gods into him during their little altercation.
Good.
"Tempting, considering the chill, but no," she said with a sigh. "You see, I have a bone to pick with the two of you."
"I'm telling you—"
"Brant, don't be so hasty," Derek said, holding a hand up to silence his friend. Caitie could see he had none of the same cautions. "She came here looking for us. The way I see it, she's servin' herself up." He looked her over. "Your Wildling friend was rude to us, y'know. Guess it's to be expected. But you're a good little Westerosi girl, aren't you?"
She raised an eyebrow, not saying a word—just waiting. She wanted to make them believe she was a weak, easy target, just like she had so long ago when escaping from Craster's Keep. And she wanted them to bluster first. The more they did, the more satisfaction she would get when she turned it on their heads.
Even so, hearing them talk about her like that was setting her blood to a boil again.
"Derek," Brant warned. "Come on. If the lord commander hears—"
"You weren't afraid of the lord commander before."
"That's 'cause he wasn't here. And it was just the Wildling. But if he finds out we tried to hurt this one—"
"She's got the lord commander's ear between her legs. Why should he be allowed to have a slice and not us?" Derek laughed. "What, you're afraid of a little girl?"
"A smart man would be." This came from Edd in the alcove to her left. He stepped out of the shadows and into the torchlight, coming to a stop at her side. "But you don't seem very smart to me."
"You tried to rape our friend and nearly killed a fellow man of the Night's Watch in the process." She tsked, shaking her head. "Not very brotherly, if you ask me. What do you think, Edd?"
"I think these bastards need to be taught a lesson."
Caitie grinned brilliantly. "I completely agree. But I do think we should be merciful, since they didn't succeed." She pretended to give it some thought. "So… castration?"
Edd nodded. "Dick and balls. The Wall could use a couple of eunuchs."
Brant and Derek finally seemed to realize what was about to happen, and they seemed appropriately afraid of it. Caitie's cheeriness mixed with Edd's menacing tone was a potent combination. The would-be rapers raised their swords, readying themselves for the onslaught.
Edd focused on Derek, allowing Caitie to take Brant. She had some experience with hand-to-hand combat—most of what she knew she'd learned from watching Jon—but she hadn't mastered it by any means.
Still, it felt right. She didn't want to sully the daggers named for her brothers for someone so repulsive. And there was a part of her that wanted to use her own fists to subdue him. She wanted to take him down without the help of anyone or anything.
Considering Brant's lack of martial training in comparison to hers, Caitie had little trouble with it.
In the blink of an eye, she slipped in through his guard and twisted his arm. His sword clattered to the ground. With her other hand, she delivered a swift punch to the face, resulting in a loud crunch. He staggered back, and seeing it, she kicked out. He fell to the ground beside his sword. When he tried to sit up, she put a boot on his chest. Out of the corner of her eye, Caitie saw Edd do the same to Derek. He gritted his teeth, but the look of fear in his eyes was unmistakable.
Yet, they were nothing compared to the fear in Brant's. "Please," he choked. "Don't."
This was when Caitie was supposed to step away. She and Edd had agreed to scare them enough to do what they were told and leave it there; let Jon handle the rest.
But some beast had awoken inside her and she just… couldn't. "Scared, aren't you?" she said, with a menacing softness that sounded foreign to her—like someone else was speaking. "Helpless, cornered. But that's what you like, isn't it? Making people feel helpless, at your mercy, so you can hurt them however you want."
"Caitie?" Edd asked, low and wary. It sounded far away. The blood rushing in her ears drowned it out.
She continued, ignoring him, eyes flickering between the two would-be assailants. "Not so pleasant, is it, when you're on the receiving end."
"I'm sorry."
"Sorry?" she murmured. "You're not sorry. You'd do it again if you thought you could get away with it. You're just afraid." She increased the pressure of her boot on his chest. "That's how we felt, too, when you tried to rape us. But now, here we are. I could do worse to you if I wanted. Perhaps I will."
"Caitie," Edd repeated, this time a low warning growl.
Maybe it was Edd that broke the spell. Maybe it was just the realization that she'd lost control. Caitie wanted to believe it was the latter, though she didn't know for sure. Regardless, she remembered herself and pulled away. "We'll be merciful," she said. "But tomorrow morning, you are going to march into the Lord Commander's office. You are going to admit you tried to break your vows by raping an innocent woman, that you attacked a fellow brother, and that you deserve punishment. If you don't, we'll know. And any punishment the lord commander doles out will be nothing compared to what Edd and I will do. Now, get out of my sight."
"But our watch duty—"
"I suggest you listen," Edd interrupted. "Now."
Brant pushed himself up without another word. Derek threw her the nastiest glare before following.
"Oh," Caitie added, "and if you tell a soul about what's transpired here, castration will be the least of your worries."
There were murmurs of agreement, and then, just like that, Caitie and Edd were alone. Her body shook as the adrenaline and cold fury drained away.
"What the hell was that?" Edd asked.
Caitie couldn't meet his eyes. "I… I don't know."
He crossed his arms. "I think you do."
Swallowing hard, Caitie looked down at the imprint of Brant's body in the snow. I could do worse to you if I wanted. That's what she had told him. And the truth was, she didn't know if she'd meant it. All she knew was that she had wanted him to know how it felt, to feel the fear she dealt with all the time. It had felt good to see him and Derek afraid, to see them at her mercy. But she didn't know how far she would have been willing to take it. That's what scared her the most.
This wasn't justice—not like she'd thought it was. This was vengeance. And vengeance would lead her down a path she didn't want to go.
Edd sighed, his expression softening, as if he knew what was going through her head. "You all right?"
She laughed, devoid of humor. "Not really."
"Mm. Didn't think so."
She went through the events of the last few minutes in her head, feeling worse and worse as she relived it, until Caitie remembered something more important than her personal crisis. Something she needed to check. "Edd, what Derek said about Jon and I—those rumors are everywhere, aren't they?"
He winced, and, shutting his eyes, nodded.
She put her head in her hands and groaned. "Shit. Shit, shit, shit."
"But they're not true, are they?"
Caitie's head snapped up. "Of course not!"
At her indignation, Edd shrugged, visibly relaxing. "Well, I had to ask."
She couldn't choose between laughing and screaming. Caitie had always known those rumors existed, but she hadn't realized just how pervasive they'd become. Knowing what the Night's Watch was, she should have. Rumors spread like wildfire, just as fast and just as dangerous.
"I… I need to go," she said. "I need to think."
"Really don't think you should be alone, Caitie."
She ignored his warning, starting back towards the elevator. "I'll see you later."
Thankfully, Edd didn't try to stop her again. She didn't know what she would have done if he had. She couldn't think; there was just too much, filling every corner of her mind, leaving her unable to deal with anything else. Her thoughts raced. It was near-impossible to decipher one from the other.
But, in the end, there was one thought that slipped its way through the others: she needed to leave Castle Black.
That scene in episode 9 where Jon and the Free Folk are standing at the tunnel waiting to be let through is quite possibly one of the most infuriating scenes I've had to contend with for this story. They used Stannis's fleet to get to and from Hardhome. They would have to dock at Eastwatch first. Even if they decided to march from there to Castle Black on the northern side of the Wall (which… why?), the visual clues in the scene suggest they never stopped for rest anywhere.
Anyway, for the longest time, I didn't know what to do with it, but I finally decided to cheat and glossed over the scene.