This is a nightmare, thought Caitie.

The news of Ned Stark's death had caused an uproar throughout all of Castle Black, but none were more affected by it than Jon. He had walked off in a trance-like state and refused to leave his chambers since the raven's arrival. Sam, who'd never experienced this type of loss before, seemed to think what Jon needed was some company. He had tried everything he could think of to get Jon to come out and talk, from knocking incessantly, to babbling about how sorry and worried he was through the perpetually closed door, to sitting silently, hoping that Jon would eventually have to come out—but nothing worked.

Caitie worried, too, but unlike Sam, she didn't think camping outside their friend's door for hours on end was the answer. This wasn't something she or Sam could help with. No one could help, and Jon would have to grieve in the way that worked best for him. If that meant being alone, then Caitie would respect it, even if it meant resisting the urge to seek him out.

Until that same night, when a muffled argument from outside her door woke her from a dream she couldn't quite recall. Rubbing her eyes and yawning, Caitie listened, wondering who could be arguing in the middle of the night.

Even though the voices were getting further and further away, she still recognized them: Sam and Jon. Flinging open her door, she raced towards the courtyard to see what was happening. The arguing got louder as she got closer.

"They'll send out ravens. People will come after you," she heard Sam say frantically. "Do you know what happens to deserters?"

There was a pause, and then, "Better than you do."

Caitie picked up her pace, her heart beating out of her chest as she sprinted. Jon couldn't; he wouldn't.

But he was.

It was getting beyond a nightmare now.

"What are you going to do?" asked Sam.

Caitie had a clear view of the courtyard now. She could see Jon preparing his horse as he answered the question. "I'm gonna find my brother and put a sword through King Joffrey's throat."

"You can't leave us, now," Sam cried. "We need you here!"

Jon mounted his horse. "Move."

"I won't let you go."

"Move."

Sam's voice shook, but he stood his ground. "No."

And just as Caitie finally skidded to a halt behind him, Jon shouted, "Hyah!" His horse galloped off, with Ghost fast behind him, leaving Sam sprawled in the mud by the open gate.

For a scary second, she thought he might be hurt. But then Sam groaned and sat up, and Caitie, who let out a deep breath of relief, offered him a hand. He took it gratefully.

"Did he just—" she started once Sam was standing, but he cut her off.

"Yes."

Caitie was at a loss for words, her mind blank, but Sam seemed to have thought out a plan already. "Get the horses ready. I'll find Grenn and Pyp."

She was in such a state of shock; she didn't register the command.

"Now, Caitie!" he snapped.

She blinked, finally taking in Sam's words, and rushed off the stables to do as he asked.

Sam reappeared, along with the two others, in what seemed like no time at all. The four of them wordlessly mounted their horses to chase after Jon, who made it very clear he did not want to be followed. He kept urging his horse to go faster, refusing to turn back as they called to him.

It wasn't until Sam hit a branch and fell off his own mount that the sound of Jon's horse galloping away stopped.

"Is he dead?" Pyp asked.

Caitie scrambled off her horse and ran over to where Sam was lying in the snow. "Seven Hells, he'd better not be."

Thankfully, Sam, who was very much not dead, answered. "Did we get him?"

Grenn dismounted and tried to help him stand, ignoring the question. "Come on, help me get him up."

"Lucky you've got plenty of padding," Pyp said as he and Caitie came over to help.

Just as they had gotten Sam on his feet, Jon appeared before them, with Ghost at his side. Caitie held back and watched as the rest of them tried to convince Jon to stay, as she didn't trust herself to speak.

Pyp tried first. "We're taking you back to where you belong."

"I belong with my brother."

"But we're your brothers now," argued Sam.

"They'll kill you if they find out you've gone," Grenn said.

"They'll kill you if they know you came after me. Go back."

Caitie had never heard Jon sound quite so cold, but that didn't stop Pyp from trying again. "Sam told us everything," he said kindly. "We're sorry about your father."

"But it doesn't matter." Grenn shook his head, less interested in being polite than his friend. "You took the oath; you can't leave."

"I have to."

"You can't. You said the words."

"I don't care about—"

Sam cut off the rest of Jon's statement. "Hear my words and bear witness to my vow."

"To hell with all of you," Jon snapped. He tried to walk away, but Pyp blocked his path.

"Night gathers and now my watch begins. It shall not end until my death. I shall live and die at my post."

"I am the sword in the darkness," Grenn added.

Sam and Pyp jumped in to join him. "The watcher on the walls," they chanted in unison, forming a circle around Jon. "The shield that guards the realms of men. I pledge my life to the Night's Watch, for this night and all night's to come."

With every word, Jon's shoulders slumped a bit more. It was working.

And yet, Caitie couldn't join in.

Because the truth was, she didn't blame Jon for leaving. She should have; she knew that. But his father was dead and his brother was at war. It wasn't fair he was stuck at the Wall while the people he loved threw themselves into danger or died. In fact, a part of Caitie even wanted to tell him to take her, too—consequences be damned.

Why was it so wrong to want to protect their families? Why couldn't they be loyal to both the Night's Watch and their loved ones?

Honor was the answer, she supposed. But staying didn't feel honorable. And, even knowing there was no other choice, it still didn't feel like the right thing to do.

Gods, Owen would be furious if he knew her thoughts.

Not that it mattered, anyhow, because after they'd finished, Sam turned and picked Longclaw off the forest floor. He held it out for Jon to take.

After a pause, Jon did, and that was that.

As they all mounted their horses, he noticed Caitie on the horse beside his, but she avoided his gaze. She felt too guilty, and, if she was being honest, too angry—at the king, at the Night's Watch, at the whole situation.

"What is it?" He sounded so tired, so defeated.

Honor, she wanted to say. Stupid, bloody honor.

But she didn't. Instead, she only sighed. "Come on. Let's go home."

Caitie was so tired from the night's events; she could barely think as she tended to the horses in the stables.

Technically, she wasn't even on duty, but she needed to decipher her emotions regarding, well, everything. Grooming horses was a mindless, calming practice, and it allowed her to relax and think.

After returning to Castle Black, Jon had gone to his quarters, asking not to be disturbed. Meanwhile, Sam went to the rookery, only to find a raven from the Northern forces. When he told Caitie the contents of the letter, she'd gone to the stables, knowing no one would be there at such an early hour.

The North and Riverlands had proclaimed Robb Stark King in the North and King of the Trident after his victory at Whispering Wood. After three hundred years, it seemed the North would be an independent kingdom again.

Owen and Cerys—staunch Northmen—would love that. Caitie wasn't certain how her father would feel.

True, it was possible they could sue for peace with Ser Jaime as their prisoner, but that seemed... unlikely. The only alternative was full-out war. As much as she liked the idea of a free North—no self-respecting Northwoman would feel otherwise—she'd choose to have her brothers safe at home over it, any day.

Adding to the fact that both of Robert Baratheon's younger brothers—Stannis and Renly, if she was remembering correctly—had risen up and declared themselves king, the war looked far from over. She didn't know exactly what that might mean for her family, but she knew it wouldn't be good.

"Your friend said you'd be here."

Caitie forced herself not to jump in surprise at this new voice—one of the last voices she wanted to hear. Taking a deep breath, she turned to face none other than Lord Commander Jeor Mormont.

Light streamed through the door to the stables—she'd been there for longer than she thought.

M'lord," she said, forcing herself not to curtsy as a reflex. "Which friend do you mean?"

It was a stupid question. There was no other option except Jon. But Caitie was too nervous to think of a better response. The lord commander had obviously asked after her, and Caitie couldn't help but fear that he'd come to confront her.

"Jon Snow," he said as if he thought her a simpleton. Then, to Caitie's disbelief, he changed the subject utterly banal. "You're not supposed to be on duty."

Caitie nodded and looked down at her feet. "There's a lot to do here," she said vaguely.

"There'll be more soon enough."

She furrowed her eyebrows at the ominous sentence. But it didn't seem like he had come to confront her, so she supposed she should be grateful.

"We're going north," Mormont explained.

Caitie's mind went blank. "North?"

"Beyond the Wall. Are you daft, boy?" he snapped when she only looked more confused, but there was no real edge to it.

"No, m'lord." Caitie tried to calm her beating heart and keep her composure. "Only surprised."

She didn't include that she was also more than a little afraid of him and what he could do to her.

The lord commander rubbed his temple. "Whole villages have been abandoned beyond the Wall. There are fires blazing everywhere in the mountains. A captured Wildling swears their tribes are uniting in some secret stronghold. Outside Eastwatch, Cotter Pyke's men discovered four corpses. Blue-eyed corpses."

Caitie gasped before she remembered who was with her. She smoothed her features back into a neutral expression.

But it was too late; the lord commander saw. "You know what that means, then, do you?"

Slowly, Caitie nodded.

"Unlike us," Mormont said, "they were wise enough to burn the bodies."

"But it's not going to end there, is it?" she asked, even though she knew the answer.

"No. It's not. But I don't mean to sit meekly by and wait for the snows. I mean to find out what's happening." Silence and tension hung heavy in the air as his words settled in.

But the lord commander wasn't finished. "You'll be coming too. And your friends, Jon Snow and Samwell Tarly." He looked the stables up and down. "Someone'll need to take care of the horses."

Caitie opened her mouth to reply, but she couldn't figure out what to say. She didn't know why Mormont was telling her all this—or why he had come to speak to her at all. He could have just told One-eyed Joe to relay the order.

"Don't look so cowed," he added, noticing her hesitancy. "Cravens don't last long out there."

"Apologies, m'lord. I... suppose I'll be ready."

The lord commander nodded curtly. He turned to leave but changed his mind—facing her again. "You're a good fighter," he said. "You'll need that, north."

And before she could utter a single word, Lord Commander Mormont was gone.

It seemed Jon and Caitie's discussion weeks earlier would be coming to fruition.

Though she knew she should have been excited by the prospect, whatever lay in store, as the day went by and she thought more about going beyond the Wall, the more than excitement turned to dread. There was no way to get a letter to Owen and Cerys—no way to tell them she was leaving Castle Black. Even if she knew where the Northern army was camped, the risk of her letter falling into the wrong hands was much higher than just sending it to the brothel near Norwood, like usual. Coded or not, she didn't want to risk it.

Caitie had, therefore, resigned herself to the notion that her brothers wouldn't know where she had gone. It wasn't until when Sam walked into the pantry that night and gave her a small smile that she found a small sliver of hope.

"A letter for you," he said, handing her a scroll.

Caitie took it gingerly and opened it, not sure what to expect.

The letter consisted of only five words, signed O, C, and A.

Be safe. We love you.

Well, that didn't make sense. Unless… Mormont must have sent ravens out, informing Westeros of their expedition. How word could have spread so quickly, Caitie didn't know, but she didn't care enough to parse it out.

Sam leaned over her shoulder and read the words. "Aw, that's very sweet."

She was about to agree, but before she could, tears sprang to her eyes. Caitie tried to push them back, whimpering frustratedly when she couldn't. It felt as if all she did was cry lately, and she felt incredibly weak for it.

Sam put an arm around her. "Shh, it's okay."

"Sorry," she said when the sniffling died down. "I just miss them."

"Of course you do, Kitty."

As she stared at the little scroll, a thought occurred to her. "Have you sent a raven home to your mother?"

Sam hesitated. "I don't want to worry her."

"You should," Caitie said. "You might not be able to send her one for a while."

He still hesitated.

"If my brothers were going north of the Wall and they didn't tell me, I'd kill them both. And I'd make it as agonizing as possible. Besides," she continued, shrugging, "you can tell your father that you're going to the dangerous lands of the far north while he sits on his ass doing nothing of value at Horn Hill."

Sam laughed. "All right. I'll send a raven later tonight."

"Good." She stared back down at her letter, reading the five words over and over again. It was Owen's handwriting, but Cerys had written the C and the A. It saddened her that Arthur hadn't signed the letter himself, but she doubted he would be able to sign his own name if he was still back at Norwood.

Caitie looked back up at Sam and asked, "Do you think I should take this with me?"

"You wouldn't want to lose it. Why don't we hide it somewhere? Or give it to Maester Aemon to keep safe."

She nodded slowly, considering. It wasn't as if Maester Aemon could read it, and even if someone did, there was no sensitive information. "That's a good idea."

Standing, Sam extended a hand to help Caitie up. She took it gratefully, and the two set off towards the library.

It took a while for her to make her case, as she was rambling, and the old maester had to tell her to slow a few times so he could understand, but eventually, Caitie explained her situation.

"You see," she said, trying not to sound like she was frantic, "I'm going north with the lord commander, and if I take this letter from my brothers with me, it could get lost, so—"

"So, you are asking me to keep your letter safe while you are away."

Caitie nodded, relieved Maester Aemon understood. "Yes. I'm sorry, Maester—I know black brothers are supposed to renounce their families, but this letter is really important to me. I don't want to lose it. It's the only one I have from them."

She'd had to burn the other letters Owen and Cerys sent her, just to be safe.

For one worrisome moment, she thought he might not agree. But then Maester Aemon smiled and patted her hand. "There is no rule forbidding the exchange of letters. I promise to take good care of it... and I am sure your brothers pray for your safe return. As do I."

"Oh. Thank you, Maester Aemon." Caitie didn't quite know how else to answer him—it wasn't as if they knew each other well. Before tonight, they had said maybe ten words to each other, if that. But it was still touching to know he hoped she would be okay. She supposed she felt... safer with the knowledge.

Between that and her letter, she was easily able to get a restful night's sleep. A good thing, too, considering that all those going north had to wake before dawn.

When she woke, Caitie dressed quickly. She hurried through the corridors that would take her to the courtyard. Once there, she found her horse—a beautiful chestnut mare—and began the work of saddling. It didn't take long for Jon to find her among the sea of black brothers readying themselves for the journey northward. He looked more worn out than she had ever seen him, with dark circles under his eyes and an even graver expression than usual.

"There you are. I haven't seen you since..." he trailed off, but he didn't need to finish for Caitie to understand.

She shrugged. "I thought you'd want to be alone. I know I would." She paused, unsure whether she should bring it up. In the end, she couldn't help herself. "I'm so sorry about your father."

"I—" He closed his eyes, jaw clenching, and for a moment Caitie thought he would refuse to say anymore. But then he took a deep breath. "For a long time I was angry at him for letting me come here. For letting Lady Stark send me away. But now... I don't care about any of that. I'm just gonna miss him." As Jon spoke, Caitie could've sworn she saw the gleam of tears in his eyes. And Gods, she had no fucking clue what to say in response to him, because what could make something like this better? What could she possibly do to take away the pain of losing a parent?

Luckily, she didn't have to say anything, for Jon cleared his throat and continued. "But you didn't try to make me go back that night. The others did, but you didn't. Why?"

Caitie saw no point in lying. She trusted Jon above anyone. "Because a part of me wanted to go with you."

"You did?"

"I did." She put a hand on his arm and squeezed. "But you did the right thing, coming back. If we'd left, it would have only made our families' lives harder."

She could see that now, in the harsh light of day. Jon's brother would have had to choose between killing him or breaking a law by allowing him to live. And Gods only knew what Caitie's father might do to Owen and Cerys when he found out what they'd done. Not to mention what he'd do to her.

"I know," Jon sighed. After a pause, he shook his head and inhaled. "But you're all right after all this?"

Caitie almost laughed. Jon had just gone through a hell she could scarcely imagine, and he was asking if she was okay? "You don't need to worry about me."

"That's not an answer."

He had her there. She closed her eyes and finally allowed the emotions she'd been keeping bottled up to wash over her. "The truth? I'm scared—all the time. Of going north, of being found out, of the war and my brothers dying—everything."

"Me too."

"It's all gone to shit so quickly. I thought when Robb captured Jaime Lannister, the war would be over, but..." Caitie trailed off, sighing.

Jon nodded. "The North is going to be free. My brother is king. It's... strange," he finished, eyes averted from hers, but as much as he tried to hide it, she still detected an undertone of jealousy.

Caitie understood it; of course she did. Robb would go off to become a hero, win the war, marry the prettiest lady with the largest dowry, while Jon would fade into obscurity as a man of the Night's Watch, with no one to tell the stories of all the lives he'd saved. But frankly, Caitie didn't think that was such a bad thing. Kings didn't have friends or loved ones, for the crown and its duties always came first. And history wasn't always kind to its heroes. So... no, she would always prefer quiet obscurity and friendship to the loneliness and responsibility of having to lead.

Not that she was about tell Jon any of this; she didn't think he'd appreciate it.

"Well," she said slowly, "it's not every day you become a prince."

He knit his brows together. "I'm a bastard."

"Ah, you see, but now you're a royal bastard."

"You've been waiting all morning to say that, haven't you?"

"No... a little," she admitted. "Really, though, your brother is a king. That means you're a prince—to me, anyway."

Jon snorted. "You're mad."

Caitie eyed their surroundings, and when she was convinced no one could see, she curtsied. "As you say, your highness."

He ducked his head so that she couldn't see his reaction. Caitie hoped it meant he was smiling.

"Do you think he'll be a good king?" she asked, sobering as she tried to dig up her memories of Robb Stark. To be honest, the few memories she had of him were... less than stellar, and if she hadn't been trying to be sensitive to Jon, she probably would have called Robb a rude, arrogant piece of shit who had clung to her shoe. But embarrassment had clouded her memory of him, so it may not have been fair.

"He will," Jon replied.

She wasn't going to say anything more, but the words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. "Jon? Do you think they'll win?" She felt childish asking, but she just couldn't help it.

"They have to," he said simply.

It wasn't a good answer, but she knew it was the best Jon could provide.

"I suppose so."

Neither said anything more—mostly because there was nothing left to say—and Caitie went back to securing her saddle.

Eventually, Sam found the pair. He looked terrified—ashen-faced and wide-eyed, but he was trying his best to hide it. He attempted a smile, but it came off more like a grimace.

Caitie wondered how he'd been so calm the night before, and then she realized Sam had been pretending for her sake. Sometimes she forgot that he was four years older—more akin to Cerys than Arthur. Perhaps he was trying to protect her as much as she was him.

"Hey. It'll be all right," she promised, trying to seem more confident than she felt. Sam didn't look convinced. "We'll watch out for each other. That's what friends do, isn't it?"

"Aye," Jon agreed solemnly. "We will." He put his hand on Sam's shoulder in a comradely gesture.

Caitie looked between the two men who had become her best friends and wondered how she'd managed to get so lucky. "We'll get through this," she said. "Together."

Farewell to season 1 and onto the spiral into chaos. I feel so bad for these characters right now.