Caitriona Norrey was dizzy with desire.

All the time, no matter where she was, what she was doing, the only thing she could think of was the feeling of Grenn's hands on her, the feeling of him inside her. Every moment of the day, she anticipated nightfall. The only time she didn't was when their stable duties coincided, for there was a small bolthole at the back, just big enough to fit the both of them. It was easy enough, as long as they were quick and quiet about it. Every now and again, Caitie would feel slightly guilty at the prospect of ignoring her duties, but she consoled herself with the fact that she and Grenn were living on borrowed time, and they had to make the most of it.

"Seven Hells," he breathed early one morning as he slid his hands down her sides. He had her pinned against the wall of the barn's alcove. She could feel his breath tickling her neck along with his beard—the roughness adding to the sensation. "I'm a lucky man."

"That you are," she agreed.

He chuckled. "You're very humble, aren't you?"

"Oh, very. You know—"

He cut her off with a kiss, which she reciprocated enthusiastically, moving the fabric of their disheveled clothes out of the way and pressing into her. She squirmed the way she'd discovered drove him mad, unable to conceal a smile when his pace increased and he let out a guttural noise from the back of his throat. She loved the power she had over him in these moments, almost as much as she loved the power he had over her—something which he had utilized to great effect a few minutes earlier.

"You did that on purpose," he panted.

"And are you complaining?"

He groaned again as her lips found his ear. "No, I'm not."

When she trailed them down to his neck, he lost all control, rocking his hips at a frenzied pace until his body went taut and he groaned her name into her shoulder.

After they had put their uniforms back into place and made sure they looked presentable, Caitie said, "Oh, before I forget—now that Jon and Sam aren't on watch duty any longer, we'll be meeting in the pantry again. You're going to join us, right?"

The full moon had come and gone, and no army had materialized, but other than a few snide comments, Ser Alliser hadn't taken any action against Jon. In fact, he had grudgingly allowed her friends a reprieve. They now only had to take watch duty every other night. After catching up on some much-needed sleep, Jon and Sam were ready to resume their nightly meetings.

"Aye," Grenn replied. "If you want me."

"Of course I want you. And Jon and Sam want you, too." She scrunched up her face. "That came out wrong."

Grenn laughed as he hooked his arm around her middle and tugged her to him. "Well, if Sam and Jon want me, then I'll definitely be there."

"Good," she said. "You'd better. They'd be devastated, otherwise."

"And you wouldn't?"

Caitie shrugged, trying to hide her smile. "Honestly, I wouldn't care one way or another."

He glowered, relinquishing her from his hold so he could cross his arms. "Well, fine then, I won't come."

"Wait, no, Grenn! I didn't mean it—"

His expression morphed into a grin as he laughed. "Thought that'd be your reaction."

He'd beaten her there. She tried to glare at him, but she couldn't muster it. Instead, she only huffed and peeked out of the bolthole and looked around the stables. Lucky for them, One-eyed Joe didn't come around until late into the afternoon, and only a few others came to the stables at all, so there was no one in sight.

"I think we're good," he said, leaning over her to look as well.

She nodded in agreement and turned around to say something—only to forget what it was a second later. Instead, she tried to swallow the desire building up in her core as she saw the state of his hair, which he'd forgotten to smooth down after finishing their... liaison.

"Something the matter?" he asked.

"You forgot about—" She stood on her tiptoes to fix it for him, which was a stupid idea in hindsight, because it left their lips inches apart. She wasn't exactly sure who initiated the kiss, but before long, they tumbled back into the bolthole.

Well, they were living on borrowed time, after all.

Caitie was the first to arrive in the pantry that evening. With her torch in one hand, she used her other to pour herself a cup of ale—full to the brim—and sat down on the dusty floor. When she had finished the cup, and not one of her friends had yet to join her, she poured another—and another after that. Jon came just as she was finishing the last one off, though without Ghost, as the Night's Watch had jailed him in the kennels.

Caitie really hated Ser Alliser Thorne, sometimes.

"Jon!" she greeted brightly, raising her cup to him, even though the motion made her a bit dizzy. But Caitie didn't care about that. She hadn't gotten to see Jon much in the last month, and she'd missed him and his broodiness more than she would ever admit.

"Seven Hells, how much have you had?"

"Three cups. Oh, don't give me that judging look of yours. It hasn't been an easy month." It wasn't strictly untrue. Everyone at Castle Black felt the weight of their impending doom. Caitie wasn't immune to the feeling just because of Grenn.

Jon didn't argue with her on the point. Instead, he sighed and held out a hand. "Pour me some?"

"As you wish." She filled a second cup full to the brim and handed it to him.

Jon sipped his ale while Caitie wondered where in the world the others were, until, out of the blue, he asked, "How do you feel?"

Caitie quirked her head to the side. "About what?"

"Everything."

She laughed because it was the only thing she could do. "Oh, I don't know. There's so much. I can hardly keep it all straight." Between the loss of Owen and Cerys, Gilly and Little Sam's precarious situation, Arthur's plight, and all her other friends' lives in the coming battle, she had more than enough over which to worry. "What about you?" And perhaps it was the drink, but before she could change her mind, she added, "I know it can't be easy, the prospect of facing her."

Caitie didn't dare say Ygritte's name out loud. Whenever she or Sam mentioned it, Jon would get a look on his face filled with so much pain it nearly brought Caitie to tears. Because he was utterly in love, and utterly unable to accept it without hating himself.

Jon shot her a look, prompting her to sigh. "I know you don't like to talk about what happened with her," she said. "But maybe it means you need to."

He stared down at the floor for a long while, and a hush fell over the little room as Caitie waited patiently for him to find the right words.

Then Jon shifted in his seat and said, "I... want to see her, and I don't want to see her at the same time."

"Do you miss her?" Caitie asked gently.

"Every day." When she flashed him her most sympathetic smile, he scowled. "Do you have to look at me like that?"

"My apologies for caring about you," she said dramatically. "I'll just sit here with my ale and allow you to sulk."

This time, when Jon glared at her, it faded soon after, and they went back to drinking their ales in silence. It was awkward, because Caitie didn't really like silence, but she wasn't going to be the first to break it. She did have some pride.

"Thank you," Jon blurted. When she shot him a quizzical look, he added, "For caring."

"Oh. You're welcome."

Again, silence fell. Caitie's stomach twisted unpleasantly, though she had no idea why; but she didn't have long to ponder it before Jon was speaking once more, his voice thick with emotion. "It's hard. I broke bread with them, fought with them, told them all I wanted to fight on the side of the living. And then I betrayed them. I didn't have a choice, I know that. But Ygritte..." He shook his head. "Never mind."

Caitie watched the emotions warring on his features, guilt being the most prominent of them. "You're allowed to have feelings," she told him. "You're allowed to respect the Wildlings, and you're allowed to miss her. It doesn't make you less of a man, and it doesn't make you less of a brother. It just makes you human."

Jon paused, watching her. Caitie couldn't place the expression. Eventually, he asked, "You don't think it makes me a traitor to our brothers—to you?"

She shrugged. "You're my best friend. I trust you."

To that, Jon couldn't come up with a reply. He merely stared at her, the flicker of a smile on his face. Finally, he opened his mouth to speak, but whatever he was going to say next, he forgot when they heard footsteps.

Now, footsteps didn't surprise either of them. What did surprise them was when the door swung open to reveal not only Sam and Grenn but Pyp and Edd, too, all four of them poking their heads into the pantry.

"Hello!" Pyp said.

Sam cleared his throat. "I thought I might bring our friends tonight, since this could be the last time we get to be together before—"

"Our imminent doom?" Caitie asked cheerfully.

"Well… yes."

Grenn quickly passed by the others through the door and took the free spot beside her, though he did nothing more than that, for appearance's sake. The others followed suit, so the six of them were sitting in a circle. It was a tight fit, but they made do. Caitie thought it was just lucky that she and Pyp were so small.

"Ale?" Jon asked.

The four newcomers nodded. After they'd all been supplied with their drinks, Pyp took one long sip and asked, "So, think we'll win?"

There was a profound silence before all six of them burst into laughter.

"That was the dumbest question I've ever heard," Grenn said, leaning over Caitie to shove Pyp playfully on the shoulder.

Pyp lifted his chin. "Pfft, coming from you? You're the king of the dumb questions."

"Am not!"

"Are too."

Edd rolled his eyes. "Here we go."

"But we've got the scythe," Sam said. "That has to count for something, doesn't it?"

"The scythe only defends against Wildlings who try and climb the Wall. We're fucked if we get overrun from the front side."

"Or if they break through the gate," Grenn said.

Jon took a long gulp of his ale.

"Well," said Caitie, "it could be worse. At least Wildlings burn the bodies of the people they kill."

He eyed her. "On the bright side?"

She tilted her cup at him. "Dying is one thing. Being turned into a wight, however…" She shuddered. "I'd rather a Wildling kill me than a White Walker." Except for maybe a Thenn, but they didn't need to hear something like that while they were trying to relax.

"Aye," Edd agreed.

Pyp watched her for a long moment. "You could leave before the battle, though, couldn't you?" he asked. "Dress like a girl, and not no one from Castle Black would know. You got a family, right? Wouldn't you rather be... wherever it is you're from—where it's safe?"

Everyone else in the pantry went quiet as she stared down at the dusty floor, trying to think of what to say. She felt Grenn put a light hand on her back—for comfort, she supposed. But Pyp knew the least of all her friends about her situation, so she should have expected a question like this. And it was funny, in a sick sort of way, because Pyp had a point. Owen and Cerys had sent her to the Night's Watch so she would be safe. Yet, here she was, about to fight in a battle where she was more than likely to die.

She knew what they would have told her to do: get out, hide, and do whatever it took to survive.

But Owen and Cerys were dead. They couldn't protect her anymore. And no one was safe in this world, anyway, so she might as well make her death mean something. If that something was protecting those she loved... well, there were worse ways to go.

Caitie cleared her throat and forced a smile. "This is my fight—just as much as it is yours. I'm not going to leave my friends behind to cower behind the Wall. There's nowhere else I'd rather be. Besides," she added, with a sudden need to defend why she was at Castle Black, "I was a terrible lady. I can't sew. I can't dance. I have no concept of courtesy—"

"You're telling me there was nothing you were good at?" asked Edd skeptically.

Not according to her father. But if Caitie said it, she knew it would invite unwanted questions, so she kept her mouth shut and sipped her drink.

"She's quite good at singing."

Caitie choked on her ale. "How the fuck do you know that?"

Sam smiled sheepishly. "I heard you sing to Little Sam just after he was born. You have a lovely voice."

"Seven Hells," she groaned, putting her head in her hands.

"I don't get it. So he heard you sing. What's wrong with it?" asked Grenn.

"It's embarrassing," she said. When her friends waited for her to continue, she added grudgingly, "I was completely out of practice, and—"

Edd snorted. "You're a shit liar."

"I'm not lying!"

"Yeah right. You just didn't want us knowing how much of a girl you are."

Caitie froze. He was teasing; she knew that. But it didn't stop the panic rising in her chest. Edd was much too smart for his own good, sometimes.

In all honesty, she had tried her best to lock away the "lady" aspect of her personality, even to her friends who knew her identity. Jon and Sam were the only two people with whom she didn't hide it, but it was different with them. They'd known who she was from the very beginning. She trusted them both to treat her the same, no matter how much like a girl she acted. The others, though—even Grenn—well, she didn't want them to know that there were some parts of being a lady she'd liked. Because if they thought she had a place in that world, why would they accept her?

"Don't worry," Edd said, rolling his eyes at her expression. "We like you no matter how girly you are. Right, boys?"

Caitie couldn't stop the smile that spread across her face as Grenn, Edd, Sam, and Jon gave her nods. Maybe she was giving her friends less credit than they deserved.

The only one who didn't nod was Pyp, who had focused on something else entirely. "Oi," he argued, sending Edd his best glare. "Singing isn't girly."

It surprised her for a moment to hear Pyp defending it. But then she remembered: he used to work as a singer.

"It is when you do it." Grenn grinned as he punched Pyp's arm.

Pyp glared at him, but it faded into a smile as he noticed Caitie again. "I've got an idea," he said. "Sing with me and Dareon at supper tomorrow. Let's show these idiots they don't know nothing about how a girl really sounds."

The comment took her aback. Without thinking, she curled into herself, pushing herself back a little ways from the rest of the group. "I... I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"Oh, come on. Sam's been trying to get me to sing for years—what do you say we give him what he wants?"

Sam smiled. "I'd love that!"

"'Course you would," Edd grumbled.

Caitie opened her mouth to refuse. And she had every intention of it, because agreeing was a terrible idea—but she couldn't bring herself to do so. She missed singing, though she would never, ever tell her friends. Music was one of the few lessons she'd looked forward to, back home. It was something beautiful and calming she could latch onto during one of her father's moods, on the days when she couldn't spar. And her brothers... it reminded her of them; how proud Owen and Cerys were, and how much Arthur loved listening to it. Somehow, she'd forgotten about those memories until now.

"All right," she said, "how about this: I'll start practicing again, and if we survive, you and I will put on a concert—but only for our friends. I can't sing for the whole Night's Watch."

"Too scared?"

She barked out a laugh. "It's like you said: when I sing, I sound like a girl. Think for a moment about how that would go over with the others."

"Ah, yeah, forgot about that."

"I don't get it," Edd piped up. "Why d'you need to practice? 'S stupid, when no one's gonna hear you."

Caitie sighed; she'd had this conversation once with Cerys, after he'd asked her why she refused to sing in front of anyone except her instructor and Arthur. "Because if it's not going to sound good, then why would I want to do it all?"

"But it's just for fun, though, isn't it?" Sam asked. "It's not as if anyone's asking you to join a mummer's troupe."

He had her there, and Caitie didn't really have an answer, other than that if she was going to do something in front of others, she wanted to be the best before she did. Which sounded... a bit fucked up, to be completely honest, and was therefore not something she would ever admit.

She finished off her cup of ale and poured herself more to avoid answering. The alcohol reinvigorated her, and she shot Pyp a grin. "Anyway, do we have a deal?"

He made a show of thinking it over before he grinned back at her. "We do."

Remembering something Cerys had told her, Caitie extended her arm. "All deals should be sealed with a shake of the hand."

Pyp didn't hesitate in clasping her hand with his. "Now all that's left is surviving to make good on it."

And just like that, their good moods dissipated.

Jon took a large gulp of his drink and gestured for Caitie to pour him another. She handed him the jug of ale, which he used to fill his cup to the brim.

Sam eyed him. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

Jon shrugged and took a swig.

"Oh, you're going to regret that," Caitie said.

"Because I get drunk faster than a five-year-old girl?"

"Yep!" She took a large gulp from her own cup.

Jon glowered and took another swig.

"You can't keep up with me. You know that."

Edd laughed. "Y'know, I don't think I've ever seen Jon drunk before."

"No, me neither," Pyp agreed.

Sam grinned. "He gets very… affectionate."

Jon whipped his head around to glare sharply at his friend. "What?"

"Well," Sam said, "the last time you got drunk—after King Joffrey died—you told me I was your best friend, that you loved me, and that you didn't deserve me. There were even some tears. Eventually, you fell asleep on my shoulder, muttering something about gingers and baby seals."

Jon set down his drink and pushed it away. Edd, Grenn, and Pyp had to cough to hide their laughs.

Caitie, on the other hand, was far less amused. "Hmph. Well, it sounds as if I should find myself a new best friend, since Jon is so obviously taken."

He stared at her incredulously. "Are you jealous of Sam? Really?"

"And why shouldn't I be jealous of Sam? I didn't get a drunken confession of love and devotion. Honestly, I feel rather left out."

Sam put an arm around her shoulder. "Aw, Caitie, there's room for both of us, you know."

Jon pinched the bridge of his nose, scowling, while the others laughed.

"Jon Snow and Samwell Tarly," Edd said, snorting. "I dunno about you, but I think we should leave the two lovebirds alone."

"Oh, I agree," Grenn said. "Look at 'em. Taking brotherhood to a whole new level." Caitie felt his palm on the small of her back. She gave him a sly little smile.

"I'm going to kill you," Jon muttered.

Edd crossed his arms. "Which one of us?"

"All of you."

Caitie scrunched up her nose. "I'd like to see you try."

But Jon seemed to have an idea already, because he smirked. "Winterfell."

That was all he had to say. She lifted her chin. "Don't even think about it."

"Ah, come on," said Grenn. "Tell us. I promise I won't laugh."

"I will," Edd said.

"Don't listen to him. His head's full up his ass." Edd scoffed, but Grenn ignored him. "Please? I've gotta know."

She rolled her eyes. The warmth of the pantry, and her friends beside her... she could talk about it. She wanted to talk about it. "I told Robb Stark I'd rather step in horse dung than dance with him. Happy now?"

Edd and Pyp barely smothered their laughter.

"Use the proper word, Caitriona," Jon said.

"Fine. Horse shit."

As promised, Edd broke first, followed by Pyp, both roaring with laughter. Grenn dissolved into laughter next, though he tried his best to withstand the urge. Sam and Jon, who already knew the story, held out the longest before they gave in too.

Caitie crossed her arms and scowled, already regretting her decision. "I hate you all."

"I-I'm sorry," Pyp wheezed. "But that's just—" he broke into a fit of laughter again.

"So," Grenn said once he'd gotten control over his breath. "You told the heir to the North—"

"Yes, I'm aware of what I told him."

He frowned at her tone. "I don't get it. This isn't any worse than your other story."

Caitie refused to meet any of her friends' gazes. She couldn't do this. She'd thought she could, but she'd been wrong. "Ignoring the fact that it was utterly humiliating, I don't enjoy thinking about the aftermath." At least with the bleeding incident, her father hadn't been angry—he'd been excited because it meant he could have her married. And although that was a terrifying memory for other reasons, the incident at Winterfell was worse; the yelling and screaming, and the lashes—for her own good, because it was always for her own good. "Can we please talk about something else?"

Jon seemed to realize what was going through her mind, that they'd all pushed her a touch too far, because he cleared his throat and looked down at the floor all guiltily. "All right, all right." He reached under his cloak and brought something out from under it. "I have something for you. Call it a peace offering."

Caitie furrowed her brows. Whatever it was, Jon had covered it in a bundle of raggedy, grey cloth. But as he set it on the ground in front of her, Caitie realized what would be inside when she opened it.

She looked up at him in shock, to which he nodded once.

Slowly, Caitie uncovered the bundle. Sure enough, two daggers—fresh-forged lay in front of her. They were plain and functional, as all weapons made at Castle Black were, but to her, they were the most beautiful weapons in the world. "How in Seven Hells did you…?" He couldn't have forged it himself—which meant he would have had to convince the blacksmith.

"Ser Alliser isn't Donal's favorite person right now," Jon said, as if reading her mind. "It wasn't hard to convince him to put his skills to use."

She was speechless. All she could do was look at Jon with wide eyes. He gestured for her to pick up the twin blades.

Caitie tested the weight of each. It was like they were handmade for her, which, she supposed, they were. "They're perfect." Slowly and carefully, as if they were made of glass, she set them back on the cloth. "Jon… I don't know what to say. Thank you. Truly."

He smiled and looked down at the daggers. "What will you name them?"

She blinked. "I—I don't know. I'm terrible at naming things."

But suddenly, Caitie had an idea.

She had spent the last months wishing desperately for Owen and Cerys to come back to her, even though she knew they were far beyond her reach. There was a hole in her heart where they should have been—and never would be again.

And so, there was only one option.

"This one is Owen," she said, pointing to the first dagger. Then she pointed at the other. "And this one is Cerys."

Though she knew her friends were looking at her like she was half-mad, Caitriona Norrey didn't care, for this was the greatest honor she could ever give to her elder brothers. From now on, Owen and Cerys would be with her.

Always.

To be honest, this isn't my favorite chapter—it's just a bit too slice-of-life-ish for my tastes. But it was necessary for character-building reasons, so meh.