Just a warning: this is very much an M-rated chapter.

The next few days were a flurry of swords, each one more dull and dirty than the last. Every time Caitie thought she was close to being finished, another landed in her lap. The armory was filled to the brim with both old and new—but mostly old; the Night's Watch had limited supplies, so everyone who wanted a fresh-forged weapon had to get the clearance of Ser Alliser himself, and he rarely granted it.

Sam joined her in the mornings after his watch duty had ended, somehow still bright-eyed and eager to help. His anal-retentiveness came in handy; he went over each sword Caitie had finished sharpening to make sure she'd done a good enough job of it. Most of the time, she hadn't.

"So," he started, examining the sword she'd just handed to him. It was their last morning, with precisely three left to sharpen. The end to her punishment felt so close, yet so far. She itched to do anything else—she would have even taken chamber pot duty.

When Caitie said nothing, he added, trying and failing to sound casual, "You and Grenn."

"What about us?" she asked, feigning innocence as she finished with a long sword so old the leather on the hilt was crumbling. Every time Sam had insinuated something might be going on, she'd pretended not to understand his meaning. She didn't exactly know why, but she supposed there might have been some level of embarrassment to it. Not that she was going to tell any of her friends that.

"Well, Jon told me—"

"Gods," snapped, slamming the sword down onto the rack beside her as her irritation flared. "He just couldn't keep it to himself, could he?"

"There's not much to talk about on watch duty every night," Sam said. "But, um, he told me you two were…" He wiggled his eyebrows.

Caitie sighed. Well, there was no point in hiding it now.

"We're—I'm not sure what we are," she admitted, and it was the truth. They weren't married, nor planning anything like it, but they weren't simply friends. And the word lover didn't really seem right, either. So when Sam still watched her expectantly, she merely shrugged. "But we've kissed—quite a lot, actually."

She had gotten much better at it, too. Every night for the past four nights, while Jon and Sam had watch duty, Caitie and Grenn had gone down into the pantry and, well, practiced. She supposed she could have had Grenn sneak into her quarters, but that felt… dangerous, somehow.

Either way, she was still enjoying herself. There was an art to kissing, Caitie had decided; a technique much like swordplay. And it was beyond fun to learn.

"I knew it." Sam grinned. "So… have you two…?"

"Shouldn't Jon have told you that already?"

"I figured he wouldn't know the answer."

She huffed and crossed her arms. "No, we haven't. Has your curiosity been sufficiently sated now?"

"Not at all." His grin widened. "You're so adorable when you blush. Like a tomato."

"I'm going to kill you—slowly, painfully."

Sam shook his head, laughing. "Do you know what I've noticed about you?"

"No."

"You show affection through threats."

"If that were true, I'd have been in love with Rast."

Sam ignored her. "So?"

"If you want to know the truth, I doubt we will," she admitted. "Grenn has his vows, remember?" They had never discussed it much, but Grenn was still a man of the Night's Watch, and while Caitie may not feel beholden to them, he did. She could hardly ask him to break those vows just for her. And, of course, a part of her just didn't want to have to hear him reject her, especially not over something so—well, embarrassing.

"I've been thinking about that, actually," Sam said thoughtfully. "Our vows are specific, but they don't technically say we can't engage in… intimate relations with women."

Caitie scrunched her face up in disgust. "Please never say it like that again."

"I'm serious, Kitty. All our vows say is that we can't father children and that we can't marry. Anything else is, ah, open to interpretation."

She furrowed her brows and recited the words in her head, not really believing Sam but also wanting to know for certain that he was wrong. When she finished—and realized he wasn't wrong, she went through each line of the oath again, just to make sure she hadn't missed something.

"Seven Hells," she breathed, "you're right."

But what did it mean for her, exactly?

Through the dim light of the pantry, Caitie watched the door, waiting, taking small sips of her ale to calm her nerves. The conversation with Sam earlier had put her on edge, though she still wasn't exactly sure why. There was no reason to be nervous. It wasn't as if she hadn't thought about sex before.

Soon enough, the door swung on its hinges, and Grenn stepped through. He shut it behind him and smiled at her. "Sorry I'm late. Pyp was talking my ear off about—well, I don't really remember. I wasn't paying much attention."

"You're forgiven. Ale?" Caitie handed him a cup as he sat down beside her. Wordlessly, Grenn took a gulp as she twiddled her thumbs and stared down at the floor, not sure what to say or do.

"You're quiet tonight," he said after a while, eyeing her.

She rolled her eyes. "Don't look so suspicious. I can stop talking if I want."

Grenn snorted. "The only time I've ever heard you stop talking is when you're nervous, angry, or sleeping." He smirked and opened his mouth to say something undoubtedly snarky.

"If you tell me I snore again—"

Before she could finish, Grenn snaked his arms around her waist and pulled her to his side. "I wouldn't dare."

Caitie forgot what had annoyed her as his gaze flickered down to her lips. She took his face in her hands and kissed him. He reciprocated it enthusiastically, his hands wandering from her waist, lower to her thigh.

Feeling brave, she swung her leg over him, so she was straddling him, pushing him back against the wall and letting her hands do some wandering. She didn't know how long it had been before she felt him under her. He pulled away, a little out of breath and with a red flush to his cheeks.

When she didn't slide off of him like she usually did, he tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and said, "I want to—Seven Hells, I want to—but—"

"Your vows," she finished.

"Aye."

Caitie bit her lip and made her final decision—the one she'd been debating all day, ever since Sam had put the stupid idea into her head. "You know," she said, "the oath doesn't actually say anything about sex—it only forbids marriage and children. I know how to stop the children bit. And marriage—well, that's not going to happen, so…" she shrugged.

Grenn chuckled softly. "You're too smart for your own good. D'you know that?"

"I can't take credit. Sam figured it out, not me."

He kissed her again, slowly, deeply, as if he were savoring it. "Are you sure?" he asked. "You're a lady—"

"But I'm not. Maybe I was once, but not anymore. I had to make a choice, and I chose to give it up." She sighed. "I don't care about staying a maiden. We're about to die as it is, and before we do, I…" she took a deep breath, gathering her courage. "I want you."

Grenn swallowed hard, but said nothing.

Caitie felt her face heating up as his silence drew on. "Do you—I mean, are you sure that you want to?"

He snorted incredulously. "Is that a serious question?"

"Well, I doubt Ser Alliser would care about technicalities. If he ever found out, he would execute you. Do you really want to risk your life prematurely—just for me?"

"I don't care about Ser Alliser. Even if we weren't all about to die, I wouldn't care," he said. "I'm not giving you up that easy."

"Oh. Good."

And with that, she kissed him again.

Without the need to hold back, things escalated quickly. She let her hands wander as she kissed him, let herself revel in the feel of him. He groaned when she nibbled lightly on his lip in the way she'd learned he liked, and before she knew what was happening, he had switched their positions so that his weight was pressing into her. She tried not to seem too eager to get his tunic off, but she didn't do a good job of it because he chuckled softly as he helped her.

Right before he undid the last clasp, his hands stilled. "Wait," he said. "We can't do this here."

Caitie looked around. She hadn't given much thought to it, but Grenn was right. Doing this where the Night's Watch kept food? A terrible—and really quite disgusting—idea.

"You make a good point. But where should we go?"

Grenn re-buttoned his tunic, stood up, and held out a hand. "Come on."

Caitie glanced at him curiously before she accepted and allowed him to lead her away from the pantry. "Where are we going?" she whispered as they walked through the dimly lit hallway to a flight of stairs Caitie hadn't ever gone up before.

"Guest quarters," he replied, equally quiet. "The Night's Watch hasn't had a guest since... Tyrion Lannister, I think. Anyway, no one goes to that wing of the castle except to clean. It's far away from everyone else's quarters, and all the doors lock from the inside."

"We could go to your quarters instead, you know."

"But then we'd have to be quiet." Grenn stopped and turned to look at her with a hungry glint in his eye. "And I don't want to be quiet."

Her breath caught in her throat, but before she could do something stupid, such as pulling him down onto the floor with her in the hallway, he grabbed her hand and dragged her along.

"You've really thought about this, haven't you?" she said after a time.

"Well, yeah. I wondered what I'd do if we were to—" He cleared his throat.

She raised an eyebrow and smiled mischievously. "Were to…?"

Grenn didn't answer. He looked around to make sure the corridor was deserted. And then he kissed her so passionately her knees went weak. Just when she was sure she'd collapse, he picked her up and carried her the rest of the way—though it was only a few steps. She had to suppress her sigh of disappointment when he set her down to open the door.

The two of them looked around to make sure no one was in the room. Castle Black's guest quarters were larger than Caitie's—though that wasn't saying much—and sparsely decorated. The bed was small, but it would fit both of them with some creativity.

Before she could tell herself not to seem too overeager, her mouth had found his again, and he shed his leather tunic. She instinctively peeled his undershirt from his back as they stumbled over to the bed. Caitie had seen shirtless men before—she couldn't avoid it living at Castle Black—but she still had to remind herself to keep breathing when she saw the sight of his chest. There were a few scars, but that only added to the appeal. He closed his eyes and took a shuddering breath as she ran her fingers over them.

All restraint left him. Caitie wasn't really aware of her own clothes coming off—the feel of his hands on her made for quite the distraction—until she didn't have any left on her body.

She could feel a pounding in her ears and chest. Nerves, she realized. No one had ever seen her so vulnerable before, and Caitie wasn't exactly the pinnacle of beauty—she couldn't be, considering the circumstances. Thankfully, Grenn didn't seem to care as he shed the rest of his clothes and pulled her close again, kissing her neck and pinning her down on the bed. She ran her fingers along his spine and pressed herself to him, as close as she could get.

"You're shivering," he murmured suddenly, removing his lips from her neck to stare at her with a crease between his brows.

He was right. She was shivering. Caitie didn't know whether it was from anticipation or fear, but it seemed like there was a fine line between the two, especially when it came to this.

"I'm…" She didn't know what to say. She couldn't put how she felt into words. "I don't know."

"We don't have to—"

"But I want to. I really, really do." She pursed her lips, trying to think. "It's just—this is completely new to me. All my life, I've been told how important sex is. And, as much as I hate admitting it, I have no idea what I'm doing. I don't know how much it'll hurt or how I'll feel afterward or if it'll be terrible or if I'll be terrible, or—"

"Hey, hey, stop," he said, laughing.

She crossed her arms and scowled. "You find this funny?"

"Well, I gotta admit I find it a little funny that this scares you more than those wights did at the Fist."

"Please—I was terrified back then. But I already knew how to fight, so when they attacked us, my instinct kicked in. This... it's an experience I don't know."

"It's easier than you think," he said, grinning. "Promise."

"Apparently, for women, it hurts—worse than being stabbed."

"Who the hell told you that? Wait, let me guess: Cerys?"

"Well, he said it can hurt. I added the stabbing part for embellishment."

Grenn laughed and kissed her again. "Listen, if you want me to stop, tell me. I'll stop. But I think I have a way to ease you up. Do you trust me?"

She rolled her eyes at the ridiculousness of that question. "No, of course not. That's why we're here right now." When Grenn stared at her, his expression blank, she sighed, "Yes, I trust you, you idiot."

He grinned. "Good." One of his hands slid between her legs.

"What are you—oh," she murmured. Her eyes fluttered shut as he found what he was searching for and circled it with his finger, gently at first, building the pressure slowly, carefully, intently, using her reactions to guide him. He was patient and attentive—and the fact that he was willing to go through all of this, willing to hold off on his own pleasure just for her sake, meant more than words could say.

She didn't know how to describe the sensation he elicited. It was a feeling of aching anticipation; like water collecting at a dam, building, and building with each stroke of his fingers until finally, the dam broke, and the feeling flooded over her in waves. She would gladly drown in them.

"I take it you liked that?" he asked, and she realized there were noises coming from her throat.

"Yes," she breathed. To say she liked it would be an understatement. There was nothing she liked more at the moment.

He kissed her thoroughly, and when he finally pulled away, grinned down at her. "Should I keep going?"

He waited until she nodded before he slid a finger inside of her.

This didn't feel half as good. It wasn't terrible, just... uncomfortable. She could feel some slickness helping him along, but that didn't stop the discomfort of having something so foreign and new inside her body.

He looked at her for confirmation to continue, to which she nodded again. There was a slow rhythm as he moved his finger in and out. She matched her breaths to the pace, relaxing her muscles. After a little while, the feeling became less foreign, less discomforting, and he could slide a second finger in along with the first. A bit more pain followed, but it lessened quickly.

"I think I'm ready," she said.

"You sure?"

"I'm sure."

He placed his hands on her hips and allowed her to grip him, eliciting a sigh as she helped him ease his way into her.

It hurt like all Seven Hells.

All right, well, that might have been a bit of an exaggeration. She'd definitely had worse pain in her life—her wrists, for example, and this definitely wasn't as painful as that. Still, as slow as Grenn tried to go, she still hissed in pain and dug her nails into her palms. He stopped, but she clenched her teeth and said, "Keep going," because she'd be damned if she let some pain stop her from this.

He looked at her with an almost nervous smile, pressed his forehead against hers, and eased in deeper. Caitie focused all her energy on trying to relax, focusing on his eyes, his mouth, and the look of affection on his face to anchor her thoughts.

There was one last painful sensation as he went as deep as he could, and then it dulled. When she let out a breath and gave him a smile, he started to move inside of her. The more he did, the more she got used to the feeling. Once the discomfort became less acute, she wrapped her legs around his waist and rocked her hips. There was a bit more pain, but it didn't last long, and watching Grenn moan uncontrollably was entirely worth it.

He thrust into her again and again, becoming more frenzied with each one, as she experimented trying to get more reactions from him. And then his body went taut, and he let out a second, intense moan.

Grenn collapsed on top of her, panting. They lay still for a little while, intertwined with each other before he rolled off and looked her over.

Caitie wasn't sure what to say. She had spent so much time thinking about the act of sex that it never occurred to her what she should do afterward.

And then, for some reason, she laughed, unable to stop herself. All that nervousness and build-up for something so simple. It was utterly ridiculous.

Grenn joined in a moment later. The two of them lay side-by-side, cackling like mad.

"I have to admit," she said breathlessly, "this was... certainly an interesting experience."

"Interesting?" he repeated, grinning back at her. "That's it?"

"Well, I wouldn't want to stroke your ego too much."

"You're welcome to stroke anything you'd like."

"Gods," she giggled, "was that the best you could come up with?"

"On the spot, yeah."

She snorted, shaking her head in amusement, and sat up.

Grenn followed suit. "Everything okay?" he asked, placing a lingering kiss on her shoulder.

"It's just funny," she said. "I don't feel any different. I just feel like… me. A little sore, but still me."

"And that's good?"

"I think so."

He cleared his throat. "Do you regret it?"

Caitie almost broke into a fit of laughter at the absurdity, but then she realized Grenn was completely serious. So, instead of laughing, she slid her arms around his neck and kissed him, entwining her legs with his.

"Is that a no?" he asked much, much later.

Now she did laugh. "Definitely a no."

As she rode the elevator up to the top of the Wall a few hours later, Caitie mentally repeated the list of moon tea ingredients that Cerys had drilled into her head when she was eleven. He had caught her staring at the stableman's son—for entirely innocent reasons, of course—and in a fit of panic, forced her to learn the recipe. Most elder brothers would have instilled in her the values of maidenhood, but Cerys had never been like most brothers.

Back then, she had insisted she would never, ever need moon tea. Cerys had assured her that someday she would eat her words—and when she did, he'd never let her forget it. Part of Caitie was glad he wasn't there to tease her, but the other part of her would have given anything to hear his voice again—even if it meant him teasing her until she was ready to kill him.

She sighed and put Cerys out of her mind. There were more important things to worry about, just then.

Honey, mint, and even tansy would be easy; she could find them in the kitchens. It was the wormwood and pennyroyal that were more difficult. Maester Aemon would keep those in his personal office, and she had promised not to take from his stores again without permission.

Of course, she doubted he'd notice, since Caitie only needed a pinch of each. But it wasn't about that. She had promised, and she didn't want to break it.

Finally, the elevator came to a creaking stop at the top of the Wall. The air was colder and thinner here, but Caitie hardly felt it. She couldn't stop smiling as she walked along the path of ice and snow, searching for her friends. It didn't take her long to find them, standing on one of the wooden platforms that jutted out from the Wall itself, staring out at the Haunted forest with their black cloaks wrapped tight around them.

"What are you doing up here at this hour?" Sam asked when he noticed her.

Caitie hesitated. In hindsight, she probably should have figured out how to word her question before finding Jon and Sam and asking for help. "Um…"

Sam furrowed his brows. "Is everything okay?"

When she didn't answer, Jon asked, "Caitie?" in a tone laced with suspicion.

"Don't look at me like that," she snapped.

"Like what?"

"Like I've done something wrong."

He smirked. "Well, haven't you?"

"Jon? Shut up."

Sam snorted. Jon threw him a dirty look.

She crossed her arms over her chest. "I need to know where Maester Aemon keeps pennyroyal and wormwood."

Sam's expression morphed from confusion to surprise to smug satisfaction, all in a matter of seconds. "Ah, I see. Our conversation this morning had quite the effect on you, didn't it?"

"What?" Jon asked.

Sam's grin grew wider. "Caitriona has blossomed into a woman."

She rolled her eyes. "I've been a woman since I was thirteen."

He caught the meaning. "Ew."

Jon's face fell into a frown. "You mean—"

"Yes. Now, moon tea—pennyroyal and wormwood."

"You're not—" he started, his eyes widening.

"No! But I'd rather not have that happen, so could you please tell me where to find the ingredients I need?" she asked, turning back to Sam.

"I thought you promised Maester Aemon you wouldn't take from his stores." Sam gave her the same smile he gave Jon when he knew he had thought of something Jon hadn't. "I'll get it for you."

"But then you're just my accomplice."

"No, I'm Maester Aemon's assistant, helping my 'brother' in his place so he can rest."

Caitie opened her mouth to argue, but then thought better of it. Sam did have a point. "Oh, all right," she sighed.

"You have to take over watch duty while I go, though."

"Of course." He turned on his heel, but she called him back. "Sam? Thank you."

"Well, we wouldn't want a miniature Caitie running around the place, now would we? One of you is more than enough."

She stuck her tongue out at him as Jon snorted. They watched as Sam boarded the elevator and disappeared from view.

The seconds ticked by without either saying a word.

"So," Jon said at length, looking out at the Haunted Forest.

"So."

She waited for him to elaborate, but he didn't. He clamped his mouth shut and avoided looking in her general direction.

"Are you mad at me?" she asked.

"No, of course not."

"Then what's wrong?"

Jon still didn't look at her.

"Ah," she said, as the truth dawned on her. "You think we behaved dishonorably, don't you?"

"I didn't say that."

"But you were thinking it."

"No, I—" he broke off, shaking his head. "We're all facing our deaths. I understand."

"Forgive me if I don't believe you."

Caitie should have told Jon what Sam had told her—what she had told Grenn, but she didn't want to because it felt like a defense; and stubbornly, Caitie refused to believe she had anything to defend.

"I just wonder what will happen if we survive." He finally turned to face her. "What will you do? You can't marry, you can't have children—"

"And who says I want any of those things?"

Jon didn't answer.

"I don't know what will happen if we survive the battle," she said, sighing. "But I'm happy where I am, at least for right now. As for the future, thinking about what comes after this is a terrible idea." And yet, she couldn't help wondering what a child of hers and Grenn's might look like; what Grenn might be like as a father—or her as a mother.

But that could never happen, regardless of what she wanted. Better not to think about it too much.

Jon laughed. "Well, I don't disagree."

There was nothing left to say, so the two of them kept silent until the squeak of the elevator alerted them to Sam's reappearance. He stepped onto the snow-covered walkway and back towards them with a pouch in his hand.

"Here you go," he said, handing it to Caitie. "One pinch, mixed in with honey—"

"Mint, and a pinch of tansy," she finished.

"In a full cup of water. Let it sit; it needs to steep. But for no longer than five minutes. And if this continues, you'll have to take it every week. No more often than that."

"Good to know."

Sam hesitated before he spoke again. "What was it like?"

She thought about it for a moment. "At first it was painful—"

"Did Grenn hurt you?" Both her friends stared at her in horror.

"Of course he didn't. It only hurt the first time—which is normal. The second time was better—just a bit uncomfortable. But the third time…" Caitie couldn't stop herself from smiling at the memory of it, and suddenly she wished she hadn't left so soon. "There's nothing like it."

"Seven Hells, I don't want to hear this!" Jon exclaimed, looking extremely uncomfortable.

She threw her hands up in surrender. "All right, all right, if it's so important to you, I'll stop."

"I'm just glad we won't have to watch Grenn look all tortured and guilty when he stares at you anymore," Sam said.

"Oh, don't be dramatic. He didn't do that."

Sam and Jon exchanged wry glances.

She rolled her eyes. "Ugh, I'm leaving now. Try not to freeze to death tonight."

"You certainly won't," Jon said.

Both Caitie and Sam stared at him in astonishment.

"Did you just make a joke about sex?" Sam asked.

Caitie gaped. "Since when does Jon ever make a joke about anything, let alone sex?"

"Since now, apparently," Sam answered.

Jon only shrugged.

"Well," she said, looking out at the Haunted Forest and beyond, still mildly shocked, "if ever I needed proof that we're all about to die, this was it. Only when Jon Snow makes a sex joke, do we know we're all about to get fucked."

This was easily the most difficult chapter I have ever written. Seriously, there were times at which I almost threw my computer across the room in frustration. In the end, I just sort of bullshitted (bullshat?) my way through and hoped for the best.

So, with that all said, I hope this chapter was much more enjoyable to read than it was to write.