Caitie was only a few short steps away from the brothel when she noticed someone blocking her path. It took her a moment to recognize them, and she supposed she shouldn't have been surprised to see the same angry, large, balding man who had harassed her inside, his face flushed with rage and drink. Stifling a groan, she gripped the dagger on her belt and waited for him to speak. If she didn't antagonize him, perhaps he'd leave her alone and she could go without a fight.

She ignored the part of her that wanted a fight.

"You stole my coin," he spat.

The moment he spoke, her anger flared, white-hot and utterly uncontrollable—whether it was because he'd tried to force himself on her, or because she just didn't fucking know how else to deal with what she'd learned, she wasn't sure. Regardless, instead of trying to diffuse the situation like she probably should have, Caitie merely scowled. "Well, you shouldn't have grabbed me."

The man advanced on her, swaying a bit in his drunken state even as he tried to appear threatening. "I'm going to fuck you, you little bitch. Fuck you until you learn some—"

She didn't wait for him to finish before she struck. Whoever this man was, it was obvious he'd had no martial training; as a result, it took her less than a second to knock him off balance and slip her knife in between his ribs and into his heart. She didn't even flinch as he coughed up blood and choked out something unintelligible, though Caitie understood the sentiment well enough.

She watched as he fell backward and into the mud without reacting. Even as his breathing stopped and his eyes became vacant, she couldn't muster any reaction. It should have upset her. It should have set in that she'd ended a person's life. But Caitie felt nothing—not even anger. It was complete, all-consuming blankness. And finally, after moments of simply staring at the dead man before her, she realized it was worse than that, because she had felt satisfied when she saw the light leave his eyes.

She wanted to weep, but it wasn't safe, here. With a shaky breath, she stuck the bloody dagger back on her belt and forced a look of calm onto her face as she wandered out of town to the forested area where she and Grenn had tethered their horses.

He was leaning against a tree with his arms crossed over his chest, waiting. When he saw her return, he pushed off the tree and cocked a brow. "Well?"

Caitie marched past him to her horse, refusing to make eye contact as she grabbed hold of the reins. She didn't want him to see her this way—not now, not again. It was a side of herself she hated, The emotion came flooding back and an ache spread through her chest; one which she could only relieve by throwing something or screaming.

Robb Stark destroyed my family.

She didn't know what to do with that information other than rage. The backdoor he'd given to the Ironborn was unforgivable, even without the rest. Norwood, at least, was high up in the mountains, so Caitie knew Arthur would be safe, but how many other Northern children had the Ironborn murdered? How many women had they raped? And the rest... He had broken his vow to House Frey to marry a foreigner, executed his own men—even if it had been for murdering a hostage—and turned the rest against him. And then, after all that, went crawling back to the Twins, believing a lord as proud as Walder Frey would forgive him.

The King Who Lost the North, indeed.

As the memory of Robb's smile as he pushed Caitie to dance with him surfaced in her mind, unbidden, she found her chest tightening and her stomach turning with rage. She hated him. She hated his arrogance, his selfishness, and his naivete. Robb Stark was responsible for her brothers' lives—for the lives of every Northern man, woman, and child—and he had failed them. He, and he alone, was responsible for all the misery which befell her family and her country.

Caitie would never forgive the King in the North.

Never.

"Hey, hey, come here," Grenn said, grabbing her arm so she couldn't mount her horse and pulling her back to her surroundings. She spun around to face him; to scream at him to leave her alone, but she couldn't bring herself to do so—not after everything he'd done. He furrowed his brows. "You're shaking."

Caitie still said nothing, not trusting herself if she opened her mouth.

Grenn's hands went to her shoulders, and he bent down to her eye-level. "Talk to me." He looked her up and down, and she saw his eyes go wide. "Seven Hells, what happened?"

Caitie followed his gaze down to her skirt. It was splattered with blood. "Oh," she said blankly. "I ruined it."

"I can see that. Whose blood—"

"A man who tried to rape me outside the brothel. I killed him."

Grenn froze, looking her over. "You're okay?"

"I'm fine."

"You really don't seem fine."

Caitie took a deep breath, her hands curling into fists. "I found out what happened to the North."

"That bad?"

"Worse."

Grenn gave her a sympathetic smile. "Come on," he said. "Let's get back home. Then you can tell me all about it."

"Took you long enough," Pyp said when he let them through the side gate. "I hope your adventure was worth it. You two idiots almost got caught."

Caitie stared at him wide-eyed, her fury momentarily forgotten.

"Shit," said Grenn. "How bad is it?"

Pyp waved them down and rolled his eyes. "It's fine, it's fine. Slynt was asking where you both were, but I was a mummer, remember? I distracted him. Told him Thorne wanted him to go ambush some Wildlings spotted near Castle Black. Sent him scurrying for a place to hide."

Caitie barely heard what he'd said, all but forgetting everything—including Robb Stark. She had put herself in danger of execution. More importantly, she had put her friends in danger of execution—and for what? Knowledge that had only brought pain to her and most everyone she cared for.

Seven Hells, what was wrong with her?

"I thought you said if we got caught, we were on our own," Grenn pointed out.

Pyp shrugged. "Yeah, well… I know what it's like to lose family." He pointed a finger at them. "But just so we're clear, I'm never gonna do this again."

Caitie ignored his warning, mostly because she had no plans to do anything this stupid ever again for as long as she lived. "Look," she said quickly, panic and guilt intermingling, "I owe you both of you more than I can possibly say. I'll take your kitchen duties all week. And stables. And... I'll even take chamberpot duty."

He grinned. "Ah, I knew it was worth helping you."

Grenn snorted. "No, you didn't."

At any other time, Caitie would have made a snarky comment. But she couldn't bring herself to reply beyond a nod.

Her legs propelled her forward without thinking, no real destination in mind. Caitie wanted to hit something—repeatedly—but she also knew it would be a bad idea in her current state. Never spar in anger, Owen had told her. He was no doubt correct.

She should have gotten Jon and Sam—after all, Sam had told her yesterday to find him if she needed it. But to see Jon at that moment was a worse idea than getting her hands on a weapon. The last thing he needed to hear about was everything she'd learned, and worse—how she blamed his brother for it.

Just as Caitie was debating all this, she heard footsteps behind her.

"Hey, wait," Grenn called. His longer legs allowed him to catch up to her and grab her arm in a few short strides, even as she sped up to avoid him. "You shouldn't be alone right now."

She kept her eyes glued to the floor, trying very hard to keep her voice even. "And you should be furious with me. I almost got us both killed."

"But you didn't. It's fine." Grenn took her hand and intertwined his fingers with hers. "Come on. I want to hear about your first trip to a brothel."

Caitie didn't have the strength to argue with him. She closed her eyes, nodded, and allowed him to pull her towards his quarters. She'd never been there before, but she was too distracted to give it more than a passing thought.

Once Grenn closed the door, he asked, "So? What happened?"

Caitie gave a bitter laugh. "Robb fucking Stark happened."

"What? How?"

The rest of the story spilled from her without even thinking about it. Caitie laid out all the information she'd learned, pacing back and forth as she ranted. Every word increased her rage. She kept trying to stop, pull back, and calm down, but she just... couldn't. "I knew—I just knew—what a cocky, moronic—I should have known he'd—" she broke off, a strangled cry from the back of her throat emerging. "It's as if stupidity and recklessness run through Stark blood. But even Jon isn't as ridiculous as this. He's nothing compared to the King in the North." Her lips curled into a vicious sneer as she spat out Robb Stark's title. "Well, I just hope fucking that whore from Volantis was worth the lives of Robb's men!"

"Caitie!"

She froze at the horror in Grenn's voice. He looked appalled.

"He got my brothers killed." Her voice was thick with tears, but she refused to let them fall.

"I know. But what you just said was…"

He didn't need to finish, for she'd known the moment the words came out. Insulting a woman Caitie had never met—a by-all-accounts decent person who had been slaughtered—and calling her a whore was needlessly cruel. She knew that. What had happened was not the Queen in the North's fault.

"I didn't mean it." Caitie rubbed her temples. Her headache had only gotten worse.

"I know."

"I'm an awful person," she muttered to herself. It would be easy to blame the stress of her situation, the loss of her family, or the fear of the coming battle for her lack of self-control. But, in the end, the "why" was irrelevant. Everything she'd done today—from the cold-blooded murder to the cruel words—were exactly the same things her father would have done. And that horrified her more than almost anything else that had happened today.

Grenn broke into a fit of laughter. "That is the dumbest fucking thing I've ever heard."

"Isn't it?" she asked bitterly. "I promised myself after I threatened you and Edd after the battle at the Fist, I'd never let my temper get the better of me again. And instead, I called my king a cocky moron; I called an innocent woman a whore; I stole a man's coin, and then I killed him in cold blood—all in the same day."

"He tried to rape you."

"So? I could've subdued him instead. But I didn't. I just killed him."

"Stop killing, and you end up being killed."

Caitie ignored him, for that may have been true, but that didn't mean she had to let it consume her like it had today.

She looked up at the ceiling, trying to decipher her feelings and put them into a coherent sentence. And in doing so, she calmed slightly. "The Lannisters, the Boltons, the Greyjoys, the Freys—I know they're to blame," she said. "But Robb was a Stark. My brothers believed in him—they trusted him. He was fighting for our home. And in the end, he betrayed his home and the people he was supposed to protect. He got thousands of innocents killed in a war he lost because of his own selfishness and stupidity. In the end, he wasn't a king. He was just an ass and an idiot."

Just like me, she thought miserably. Caitie and Robb—they were just two sides of the same coin, making terrible decisions that only ever hurt the people they loved.

"Did you know him?"

"I met him—once. It didn't go well." Caitie didn't elaborate. She would not be telling Grenn about one of the most embarrassing incidents of her life—not after today.

She plopped down next to him on the bed and put her face in her hands, thinking of the one person at Castle Black who did know about the incident. "Damn it, how am I supposed to look Jon in the eye now?"

"What?"

"Well, I can't exactly tell him all this."

"Why not?"

Caitie rolled her eyes. "Because what kind of friend would I be if I told Jon his brother was responsible for my brothers' deaths—for his own death? No, no, I can't." Because she knew that however much pain was feeling right now, Jon's would be even worse.

"You care about him."

"Of course I do," she replied immediately and without hesitation. "He's my best friend."

"Hmph."

It took her a moment longer than it should have to realize what Grenn had taken from her statement. When she did, Caitie pretended to be oblivious, only a hint of a smile peeking through. "Is something the matter?"

"He's your best friend. And he's prettier than half the girls I know," Grenn grumbled.

Caitie snorted. "I sincerely hope that list doesn't include me."

He stared at her, mouth open, as if he couldn't believe what she had just said.

"What?" she asked with a shrug. "I always thought Jon was prettier than me."

"Don't be stupid. You know you're beautiful."

"Well, I suppose that's an accomplishment, considering," she sighed, but she couldn't stop the smile from spreading across her face. When she realized, she wanted to hit herself. Gods, a little flirting with Grenn, and she'd nearly forgotten everything she'd learned; everything she'd lost.

As the thoughts returned, she went still and silent—and a smile felt further away than ever.

"Hey," Grenn said softly, noticing her frown, "Look at me."

Caitie did as he asked without thinking. He brushed his thumb over her cheek. Whatever he was going to say next was lost.

She wasn't sure when it had happened, but now, as they sat on his little bed, their faces were inches apart. And before she knew what she was doing, before she could even think about the consequences, she kissed him.

Under a different circumstance, Caitie might have been embarrassed or nervous. But right now, it didn't matter. She didn't care about anything at all. All Caitie wanted was to forget—forget her brothers, her situation, Robb Stark, the inevitable battle—everything except the feeling of Grenn's lips against hers.

It barely even occurred to her that this was her first kiss, and that this was definitely not his. And that she had no idea what she was doing.

At least he didn't seem to mind.

His arms came around her waist immediately. He pulled her closer, kissing her back with fervor. Caitie stalled for half a second, conflicted about what to do next. Part of her wanted to deepen the kiss, while the other part of her was absolutely terrified of it. But Grenn's hands were weaving through her hair, and in response—almost involuntarily—she got even closer, pulling herself flush against him, running her fingers through his hair, and parting her lips, just a bit.

Caitie heard a small groan and felt something—something hard and warm—against her stomach.

Oh.

It didn't repulse her like she thought it would. Quite the opposite, if she were being entirely honest. In fact, it made her wish the Night's Watch uniform didn't have so many damn layers.

But not a moment later, Grenn pulled away. His eyes were wide—frantic. "You…" he said, flushed and panting, with his hair disheveled. "I shouldn't—we shouldn't—I didn't mean to… I'm sorry," he finished lamely.

Caitie's heart sunk into her stomach as she listened to what was so obviously a rejection. Still, she managed to school her features into a neutral expression. "Don't apologize," she said, keeping her voice as even as she could. "It was my fault, not yours. And I... I get it. It was a mistake. I should have known you wouldn't—" She gulped. "Never mind."

"Caitie, I didn't mean—"

"I know," she said, a little too harshly. She took a deep breath and continued in a softer voice. "It's okay. But I should go."

She waited for him to call her back—to say something—but he only gulped, nodded once, and allowed her to leave. Caitie cursed herself as she fled the room and out into the corridor. She should have remembered, for fuck's sake—Grenn was a man of the Night's Watch, and unlike Caitie, he felt beholden to them.

Or, as the small cruel voice in the back of her head told her, he just didn't feel anything besides friendship towards her—which made sense, of course, but it only served to make Caitie feel worse.

Gods, after everything she'd learned today, this is what she was now upset over? What was wrong with her?

The only thing Caitie knew for sure was that she didn't want to be alone. She wanted Jon and Sam.

After a quick detour to drop off the pouch of coin at the door of Dareon's quarters, she checked both Sam and Jon's quarters, the courtyard, the pantry, and finally found them in the library—Jon hovering over a large map which was titled Beyond the Wall, and Sam putting away some scrolls.

"—her away," Sam was saying as Caitie barreled in.

They jumped to attention, and seeing her appearance, exchanged befuddled glances. Caitie realized she must have looked as disheveled as Grenn had. Instinctively, her hands went to smooth down her hair, which, by the feel, had gone from its normal wavy texture to frizzy and unkempt.

"Where have you been all day?" Jon asked.

Caitie opened her mouth and very nearly spilled her secret. But one look at his face, and the words died on her lips. She couldn't tell him. No matter what, she just couldn't.

The solution was to shrug and leave it at that. "Have I missed anything important?" she asked.

That was when she realized there were unshed tears in Sam's eyes. "We just got word," he said. "Th-the Wildlings raided another village."

Caitie stilled. "How many are dead?"

Jon grimaced. "About two thousand."

Caitie's legs turned to jelly. She had to grip the edge of the table to keep from collapsing. How could this have happened again? she thought, rage burning in her heart and mind. For the Night's Watch should have been evacuating every hamlet and village in the Gift. Even if it meant drawing the Wildlings to them—what did that matter, when the alternative was all the men, women, and children who had homes and lives there?

And she knew that Jon was right: they couldn't leave Castle Black without making Mance Rayder's job all the easier. But that didn't mean she had to like it.

"What was I thinking?" Sam moaned.

Caitie blinked. "What are you talking about?"

"I left Gilly in Mole's Town!"

Her blood ran cold.

"She wasn't safe here," Jon reminded him.

"She's not safe out there! I should have known. You told us there were Wildlings south of the Wall. If they're raiding the smaller villages, Mole's Town could be next."

"Castle Black could be next," Jon said, staring down at the map.

Caitie was barely listening to their argument any longer—because Sam was right. And she had been so wrapped up in her own damn problems… Why hadn't she realized just how much danger Gilly was in? Why hadn't she done something about it?

"Maybe they'll overlook Mole's Town," she said, trying to convince herself as much as Sam. "They haven't managed to draw us out like they wanted, so maybe they'll ignore it—since it's only half a league away—and come straight here."

Jon eyed her. "That's not much better."

"I should go back for Gilly," Sam said desperately.

"We have orders. No one's to leave the castle."

Caitie almost told Jon to go fuck orders; she'd already disobeyed them once, she'd do it again. But then she remembered she'd nearly gotten caught—gotten herself and Grenn hanged. And if the Wildlings were anywhere near the road between here and Mole's Town, she could be caught by them, too. A hanging would be merciful compared to what the Wildlings would do to her.

She couldn't go back without risking not only her own life, but her friends at Castle Black's, too. And at that moment, she wished that she could reverse time more than anything in the world.

Sam paced around the table, still set on arguing. "I remember when you disobeyed orders and rode south to help Robb."

Jon looked up. "And I remember who came after me and brought me home."

Caitie remembered that, too. She also remembered thinking it was wrong and unfair. Now she was glad that Jon had stayed. The king would have gotten him killed.

"I know how hard it is, Sam, believe me. When you told me about Bran going beyond the Wall, all I could think about was getting my strength back so I could go and find him."

But there was a difference, Caitie thought, between Bran choosing to go north of the Wall on his own and Gilly being stuck in Mole's Town despite what she had wanted.

"I wish I could have convinced him to come back with me," Sam said.

Jon didn't answer. He only looked back down at the map.

"I tried. Really, I did."

"How fast could they travel?" he asked, too engrossed in the map to register Sam's words. "A crippled boy being pulled by a simpleton."

Sam frowned. "I don't know. They'd pass Wildling villages. They could find shelter at one of them."

"The Wildlings have joined up with Mance. Every village or sheltered place will be deserted."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Caitie put in, glad for the distraction. "The Wildlings wouldn't be friendly towards them. And abandoned Wildling villages are where Edd, Grenn, and I found shelter." She winced at the thought of Grenn, but thankfully, neither of her friends noticed it.

Sam nodded. "That's true."

"Maybe…" Jon focused on the map. "Wait. All the Wildling villages are abandoned, except—" He pointed to something.

Caitie leaned over his shoulder to get a better look and stopped dead. "Oh, no."

Sam followed her lead. "Craster's!" he exclaimed. "You think Bran found Craster's—"

Someone in the distance cleared their throat, and Caitie nearly jumped out of her skin. Then they all looked up to see Locke standing in the archway, and she had to resist the urge to attack. In the weeks since his arrival, his intent had become clear. He made the same enemies as Jon, antagonizing Thorne and Slynt whenever the chance arose, and he made the same friends, too. Every story he told seemed tailored to be as sympathetic as possible, but without any emotion behind it. And yet, Jon and Sam ate all of it up, refusing to consider that something wasn't right with him. Caitie had thought she would at least have Sam on her side, but he was even worse than Jon.

And the worst part was, Locke hadn't actually done anything, leaving her with no defense as to why she felt the way she did. So she'd seethed silently, watching him for any sign of betrayal without success.

"Snow," he said. "I don't mean to interrupt. Thorne wants to see you." He didn't wait for Jon's answer before turning on his heel and leaving.

Caitie all but forgot her suspicion of Locke in the wake of Thorne's summons. "That doesn't sound good," she said, voice grave as her eyes flickered between her two friends.

Sam wrung his hands nervously. "I'm... sure it can't be that bad."

"It's Alliser Thorne," she pointed out.

He opened his mouth to argue, but soon changed his mind. "All right, you make a good point."

Jon smiled sardonically. "Well, the worst he can do is kill me."

"He kills you; I kill him."

"That might be your worst idea yet," he said, laughing.

Caitie rolled her eyes. Because after today, it didn't seem like it.

Poor Robb :(