Charleen woke Jon early in the morning, when the creaking of the winch chains had just announced that the middle shift were being relieved of their watch atop the Wall. "Jon," she murmured, gently touching the uninjured side of his face, "Jon, wake up."

"Hm?" he grunted, shifting slightly, and then his eyes opened.

"Jon, I'm sorry to wake you, but I have to go," Charleen said, "it'll be morning soon, and I don't want anyone to see that I spent the entire night here. How are you feeling?"

"Sleepy," Jon mumbled, "but better otherwise."

"I'm sorry for waking you," Charleen repeated, "but I didn't want to leave just like that. How's the pain?"

Tentatively, Jon propped himself up on his good elbow. It hurt, but compared to what such an action would have felt like the day before, the pain was certainly bearable.

"Much better," he told Charleen, "the bandage really helps."

"Good," she said. "I've been thinking – do you maybe want help getting dressed before I go? It might be difficult on your own, and I don't think you want Olly to know that you're hurt…?"

"Aye," Jon replied, "you're right, it might be easier if you help me."

He sat up in bed, bracing himself for an assault of icy air upon his body as he folded the blankets aside, but it didn't come, and he realized that the fire was still burning in the grate. With a sudden rush of affection, he became aware of the thoughtful kindness on Charleen's part that had kept it going throughout the night, and when he was finally bundled up once again in the multiple layers of clothing that were needed to keep the cold outside at bay, he reached out to take her hand.

"Thank you," he said softly, "for everything. I'll see you later, all right? Sam is going to let you know when I have time."

"Yes," Charleen replied quietly. "Take care of yourself, Jon."

For a brief moment, her fingers tightened around his, and then, turning to leave, she let go.

GoTGoTGoTGoTGoTGoTGoT

When Charleen returned to her own chamber a few minutes later, she found Gilly sitting up on their bed, nursing little Sam.

"Where were you?" Gilly asked quietly, "it was cold in bed without you…"

"I'm sorry," Charleen said, pulling off her gloves, "I didn't think I was going to stay with Jon for this long. What?" she added, noticing Gilly's look, and then, realizing what the other was implying, she shook her head, laughing. "Unlike some, the Lord Commander's vows remain unbroken."

"The Lord Commander," Gilly mocked gently, "to you, he's 'Jon'".

"Of course he is," Charleen retorted, "we grew up together. What are you thinking…!" She sat down next to Gilly and absently stroked the back of the baby's head. "I'm just glad he made it back alive."

The following day passed in much the same manner as all the others had done since Charleen's arrival at Castle Black. Only once, as she was carrying half a dozen frozen fowl from the storage rooms to the kitchen, did she see Jon in the courtyard, earnestly talking to a wildling with flaming red hair and beard amid the bustle of waggons filled with people and goods rolling out of the castle gate. His right arm was wrapped protectively around his side, but he seemed to be moving with greater ease than the day before, and as Charleen passed along the common hall, he briefly caught her gaze and smiled.

Darkness had already fallen when Charleen took a break from her work and sat down in front of the kitchen hearth. She had not slept much the previous night, and as the warmth of the fire washed over her, her eyelids began to get heavy, and she leaned back to rest her head against the wall. Before she could fully give in to her exhaustion, however, the door opened and Sam poked his head into the room. "Lady Charleen!" he called, "I thought I might find you here. Jon wants to see you."

"I'm on my way," Charleen said, and she rose from her seat and hurried out into the passage after Sam.

When Charleen stepped into Jon's chamber a few minutes later, he felt as though a ray of sunshine were falling on him, warming him from the very inside. "Charleen," he greeted her softly, "I hope you weren't sleeping yet?"

She shook her head. "No, I was just finishing up in the kitchen," she said, closing the door quietly behind her. "How are you feeling?"

"It still hurts," Jon replied, "but the pain's better compared to what it was."

"I'd like to change the bandage," Charleen told him, "and take another look at the injury. Can you sit down for me?" Gently, she guided Jon over to his bed and helped him lower himself down into a sitting position.

"Have you been coughing today?" she asked as they worked together to remove his clothes, and Jon shook his head.

"No, no coughing," he said, wincing slightly as he pulled his right arm out of the sleeve of his coat. "Really, I'm much better. It hurts, of course, but the pain's quite bearable now."

"You don't seem to be running a fever tonight, either," Charleen remarked, gently brushing Jon's hair out of his face to feel his temperature. "Don't expect any miracles, though – broken ribs take a few weeks to heal. We need to make sure to keep them properly bandaged until the pain is completely gone."

She put some more of Maester Aemon's ointment on the injury and bound Jon's side with a fresh bandage, and when she was done, he leaned back against his pillows with a careful expiration of breath. For a moment, he closed his eyes, then, he looked up at her earnestly. "Charleen," he said, "you need to tell me what happened at Winterfell. I know Ramsay Bolton married Sansa –"

"Ramsay Bolton," Charleen interrupted him, sitting down on the bed and leaning forward towards him urgently, "is a monster. Jon, he takes pleasure in hurting people. He rapes Sansa every night, and that's not the only thing he does to her. He – he beats her, he cuts her, he bites her, he does all kinds of unspeakable things to her. I've seen it, Jon. He made me examine her, several times, because she's not getting pregnant, and I saw – I saw what her body looked like. He's angry because she's not giving him an heir, and the angrier he gets, the more she has to suffer. Everybody's afraid of him. A few weeks ago, he threatened that he'd have to try with me to find out if the fault lay with him or with Sansa, and I was so terrified of what he would do to me that I took the first chance I got to escape. I didn't know where else to go, so I came to find you here. I'm sorry to have put you in this situation – I know about your oath, I know that you have sworn to take no part in the wars of men. I know that I should mean nothing to you now, but when everybody was distracted by the approach of King Stannis and his army and I had the chance to get away unnoticed, I simply didn't stop to think –"

"Charleen," Jon cut across her, "vows or no vows, you could never mean nothing to me. I'm glad you're here, in safety from the Boltons, and I will protect you for as long as you need. As for Sansa, her ordeal might be ending as we speak. You know that King Stannis has marched for Winterfell – he is going to retake the North and avenge the Boltons' crimes."

"No, he's not," Charleen said bluntly. "A handful of Bolton men sneaked into Stannis' camp when he was two or three days' marches away from Winterfell. I overheard one of them talking to Ramsay about it afterwards. From the sound of it, they burnt most of the food stores and siege weapons and killed hundreds of horses. He wasn't exaggerating, either – from what I saw of Stannis' army when I left Winterfell, most of them were on foot."

At this, Jon's gaze darted to her face. "Are you certain?"

"Yes," Charleen declared. "I don't think King Stannis presents much of a threat to the Boltons, at least not any more." She looked earnestly at Jon, and he nodded slowly.

"We will have news from Winterfell soon, I am sure," he said, "and then we shall decide what to do. For now, I will keep you safe here. Charleen." Once again, he took her hand and held it in both of his, his gaze locked upon her face. "I can only imagine what you must have gone through. You did the right thing in coming here. I don't know what we're going to do, but I'm glad to have you by my side."

GoTGoTGoTGoTGoTGoTGoT

"Stannis came to your aid," Ser Davos urged, hurrying after Jon along the gallery above the courtyard, "now he needs you. The wildlings owe you their lives – they will fight for you. Don't you think that if they're going to live in the Seven Kingdoms, safe behind our Wall, they ought to fight for the goddamned place?"

For a moment, Jon paused, but with Charleen's words from the previous evening still echoing in his head, he knew that he was only delaying the inevitable.

"Very well," he finally answered, turning around to face Ser Davos, but before he could so much as say another word, a sharp call echoed across the courtyard, the gates were opened, and the Red Woman came riding through.