When Caitie and Sam finally reentered the courtyard what felt like a lifetime later, they were greeted by an ecstatic direwolf.
Ghost bounded up to the pair, legs moving so fast the rest of his body seemed almost unable to keep up, tail whipping from side to side with such force that Caitie would have classified it as a lethal weapon. He circled the two of them once, then twice, barking madly as if he was chastising them for the audacity of taking too long to get back.
Of course, he couldn't have been too put out by it, considering that once he was finished he plopped down and cocked his head, red eyes flitting between them as if to say Hello, I'm here! Why aren't you giving me the attention I crave?
Neither could argue with that, and so they knelt, Caitie taking Ghost's left ear, and Sam taking his right. As they scratched behind the direwolf's ears, a weight seemed to lift off her shoulders. She couldn't believe how afraid she'd once been, for Ghost was anything but scary. Sure, he could rip someone's throat out if he wanted, but he would only ever do that to someone who actually deserved it, like Ser Alliser. Around Jon and his pack, Ghost seemed more like a puppy than a terrifying, red-eyed direwolf, and Caitie hadn't realize how much she'd come to rely on that for comfort until now.
She only stopped to glance up when a shadow fell over them—and she supposed she shouldn't have been surprised when she saw that it was Jon standing in front of her.
Sam gave Caitie a pointed look before nodding towards the gate. "I'll just... be over there."
He didn't wait for a reply before he walked away, leaving Caitie and Jon alone. Neither said anything for a moment or two, mainly because Caitie didn't exactly know what to say.
Luckily, she didn't have to, because Jon spoke first.
"I'm sorry."
Caitie stared silently, wondering if she had heard him correctly. She wasn't even sure what she'd been expecting, but whatever it was, it most certainly had not been Jon, one of the most stubborn people Caitie had ever met, apologizing.
"I didn't mean..." He stopped, trying to collect his thoughts. "You were right. I should've been… Seven Hells, I'm not good at this."
"Less of an arrogant prick?" she supplied.
Jon nodded once, and it was a testament to how sorry he felt that he didn't rise to her bait. "I don't think you've had everything handed to you," he said. "I know being a—you know—wasn't easy. I know your father didn't make it easier. You never got to have a choice in your life; that's something I should understand, better than most."
She almost smiled, because the truth? That was all she wanted from Jon: an acknowledgment. "It's okay."
"Really?" he asked, voice tinged with suspicion.
She rolled her eyes at the skepticism. "Yes, really. I am capable of being rational every once in a while." As she saw his body relax, the last of her anger finally faded, and she decided it was her turn to ask forgiveness. "I'm sorry, too. What happened today wasn't fair. You deserved to be a ranger—really, you did. I should have listened to you." For Jon had spent his whole life being passed over and ignored, no matter what he did. This was just another instance of it—only worse because the Night's Watch was supposed to care nothing of past titles, or lack thereof. And she should have realized it before she blew up at him.
Jon took a deep breath. "I've... come to terms with being a steward. Sam thinks the lord commander is grooming me for command."
Caitie raised her eyebrows at him. Jon as Lord Commander of the Night's Watch? Jon? She liked him very much, of course, but she just couldn't picture him in Lord Commander Mormont's place. She wasn't sure she could picture anybody else as lord commander other than Mormont.
"That's... congratulations, I suppose," she told Jon, not knowing what else she could say on the matter.
"Thank you, Caitie." Though he didn't look particularly thankful—just... sad. Unbearably, achingly sad, and to her shame, it was only then that she truly realized why.
Her guilt tripled. How self-absorbed must she have been to forget?
"Gods, I can't believe I forgot about your uncle. Jon, I'm so sorry. Of course not being a ranger would upset you after losing Benjen. I should never have—"
She fell silent as a warm hand placed itself on her shoulder. "Stop rambling," Jon said. "It's all right."
She shook her head. "It's not. I'm a terrible friend."
"No, you're not." When she shot him a look, he added, "Not that terrible."
Despite herself, Caitie snorted. "Well, I'll take it." She thought of what Sam had told her at the top of the Wall and knew what she needed to say. "Look, I know I could never understand what it was like to grow up a bastard. I know I had privileges you didn't. And you deserve a lot better than what you got."
Jon blinked, his hand falling to his side as he stared at her. "You believe that?"
Seeing his surprise, Caitie wondered if anyone had ever told him that before. She hoped so, but she wasn't so naive to trust in that hope.
"Of course I do," she said. "I feel awful for calling you entitled. You're the furthest thing from it. I just…" She trailed off, not sure if it was a good idea to go on. The last thing Caitie wanted was to put her problems on Jon just after they'd fought—just after losing his uncle.
"You just?"
Oh, to hell with it, she decided. He'd find out from Sam, eventually. "It's Owen's nameday. First one of my brothers' I've ever missed."
Jon thought for a bit before answering. "What you said about not being part of your family." He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Caitie, I'm sorry. I didn't know."
"It's all right."
"No, it isn't. I acted like a..." He struggled to find the right word.
She couldn't stop her grin, enjoying his groveling more than she probably should have. But Caitie didn't think she would ever see it again, so she was going to savor it.
"Well, honestly, you did act like a bit of an ass." When he stared down at the mud, all guilty and tortured, she added, "But you know, it wasn't completely undeserved. And really, I think it's one of your charms."
"Charms?" he asked flatly.
"Mm, okay, maybe not. But you're still my friend, regardless."
Jon's lips twitched upward, and Caitie could tell he was trying to maintain a straight face. Or she hoped he was.
"You're my friend, too," he said. "Don't know why, though."
Caitie smiled and grabbed Jon's arm. "Come on," she said. "Let's go take our vows before Sam thinks we're about to kill each other."
He allowed her to pull him along over to the inner gate where Sam stood. Timidly, he asked, "Is everything okay?"
She rolled her eyes. "It wasn't that big of a fight." Jon snorted, prompting her to bump his shoulder with hers. "Oh, do be quiet, Jon."
They didn't have a minute more to discuss things. Right on time, the three men of the Night's Watch who would be escorting them beyond the Wall appeared, including the acting First Ranger, Jaremy Rykker, and the First Builder, Othell Yarwyck. While Rykker said little, Yarwyck, a man in his middle age, with long greying hair, smiled kindly at them, shaking their hands and asking if they were ready.
After Jon, Sam, and Caitie all assured him they were, Yarwyck signaled to let them through. The party watched as the gate opened, revealing the vast forest. Tentatively, Caitie followed the five others and Ghost out the gate to see the Haunted Forest, covered in snow and ice.
All holding torches, she, Jon, and Sam stopped for a moment to take in what they were seeing.
Jon looked mesmerized by the view of the forest and the mountains behind it. Sam just looked like he was trying not to succumb to the bitter cold.
Caitie didn't know how to feel.
The Haunted Forest and the Frostfangs were breathtakingly beautiful; this was an objective fact. But the forest was also massive and, frankly, terrifying. It towered over them, and all the scary stories Caitie had been told about as a child felt more real than ever. She had to keep reminding herself as they moved through the forest that they were just that; stories. The worst their party could come across was Wildlings, and Wildlings, for all their fearsome talk, were only men.
Ghost seemed to sense her hesitancy because he fell back to walk beside her. Caitie patted his head in silent thanks and followed the rest of the group to a small clearing where a single weirwood tree sat.
She nearly started to cry for the second time that day when she saw it.
The weirwood tree was tall, with a bone-white trunk and winding branches covered in blood-red leaves. Like all those Caitie had seen, it had a face carved into its trunk, and sap the color of blood ran from its hollow eyes.
The sight brought back so many memories of Caitie's childhood that she froze in place, overwhelmed. It looked no different from the one in the Godswood back home: the place she would run from as a three-year-old, afraid of the face in the heart tree's trunk; the place where Septa Melarie had yelled at her for trying to climb it at the ripe age of four; and the place where, after her mother's death, her brothers would regularly drag her and Arthur to pray.
Back then, Caitie would always whine and cry the whole way there, asking Owen, "But why?" as she clutched his sleeve. Their Mother had been a southerner, their grandfather devoted to the Seven, and yet Owen never tried to make her pray to those gods.
Whenever she brought that up, he would always reply with, "It's different. We're Northerners; it's our duty. The blood of the First Men runs through our veins. We must carry on their legacy, or else it will die."
Caitie had never really understood that. She was the blood of the First Men whether she prayed or not, and it was especially difficult to see the point of prayer after her mother's death. She was dead; what could the Gods do? They were the ones that took her in the first place. And why would anybody want to pray to a god who would do that?
Yet that never seemed to matter once she was in the Godswood, for weirwood trees felt like magic come to life, and she would sit with her three brothers, respecting their ancestors by honoring the Gods. And seeing this weirwood, she missed it so badly it hurt.
The tree was so transfixing that Caitie didn't even realize Ghost had run off to hunt. Sam had to tap her on the shoulder to get her attention. Shaking herself out of her stupor, she took a deep breath and kneeled before the weirwood with her two friends. Snow and wind blew around them as they recited their oath.
"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."
The words felt wrong on Caitie's lips. In fact, this whole situation suddenly felt wrong—like a game or a farce. She was pretending to be someone she wasn't and reciting vows which didn't truly apply to her. She could believe the all-male rule was stupid and unfair as much as she liked, but it didn't change that reciting the vow felt like she was lying.
And if she was ever caught, she would die. Maybe worse than that.
Oh Gods. I can't do this.
"You knelt as boys," said Yarwyck. "Rise now as men of the Night's Watch."
The words were fuzzy in her ears; though he had said to rise, she found that she could not. Her legs simply wouldn't comply, even as Jon and Sam did. She watched them clap each other on the back, as their escorts congratulated them, but soon her friends realized she wasn't sharing in the celebration. They turned towards her, grinning from ear to ear.
"Come on, then," Jon said, holding out a hand to pull her up. Caitie blinked at him, wondering how he could accept her when he knew the truth.
Yet he had, and so had Sam. And if they knew who she was and were willing to accept her regardless, then it wasn't a lie; not really. For Caitie may be a girl, but she could still be the shield that guards the realms of men. She could even be a part of the order.
And so she allowed them to drag her into a hug and clapped her on the back. "We did it," Sam said after the three of them pulled away from each other.
"We're men," Jon added, smiling slyly at Caitie, "of the Night's Watch."
Caitie threw her arms back around her friends and laughed, so incredibly grateful for them both, but the joyful mood soon evaporated as Ghost reappeared with something in his mouth—a human hand.
"To me, Ghost. Bring it here," said Jon.
Caitie had to stop herself from gasping in horror as the direwolf dropped the hand at Jon's feet. She felt as though she was going to vomit, but instead, she steeled herself and stared at it, unflinching. There were three black brothers here who she couldn't let see her act like a weak child of summer—or a girl.
"Gods be good!" Sam exclaimed, but she barely registered it.
Looking down at the severed hand, Caitie felt a chill run down her spine, like death itself. And all of a sudden, she got the terrible feeling she was going to witness more death than just this, and soon, as a man of the Night's Watch.
A quick note: there are actually two versions of the Night's Watch vows—the show version and the book version. I used the show version because 1. I like it better, and 2. This fic is based on the show.