The long hall had emptied of people. The fire in the pit at the center of the room had gone out, and while light still streamed in through the windows, there was a golden glow to it, signaling the start of sunset. Only six members of the Night's Watch remained in the empty room after a most horrific and sobering meeting, sitting at the table closest to the remnants of the fire, but none of them spoke, as all were still reeling from the news.

Three brothers had snuck out to the brothel in Mole's Town. Only one survived the Wildling raid long enough to return and give them warning of its destruction. He'd died not long after.

Of those remaining, Sam bore the worst of it. He sat as still as a corpse and looked just as pale. The only sign he was, in fact, alive were the tears in his eyes, streaming down his cheeks, no matter how hard he tried to keep them at bay. Caitie and Jon sat on either side of him, with Pyp on the bench across from them. Edd leaned up against a wooden column behind their table, and though her back was to him, she could feel the icy anger radiating from his very soul.

Meanwhile, Grenn paced the room in a fit of pent-up frustration. It was a stark contrast to the man an hour earlier, but the world had come crashing down upon him and Caitie. Any happiness from earlier was now gone, leaving fear, anger, and grief in its place.

"I should never have left her there," Sam said through his tears, breaking the terrible void of silence.

Jon sighed. "You couldn't have known."

"Of course I could have known! They've been raiding the villages close by."

Grenn didn't stop pacing. "And we just cower here while they slaughter our brothers."

Edd crossed his arms over his chest. "Our brothers had orders to stay at Castle Black."

"So it's all right, then? Black Jack, Kegs, and Mully chopped to pieces 'cause they broke the rules?"

"I didn't say it was all right," Edd snapped. "I said they shouldn't have been there."

While Jon pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, Caitie flinched. She had never heard Edd sound quite that cold before.

"We're pledged to guard the realms of men."

"She's dead because of me," Sam said, ignoring the argument.

In return, Grenn ignored him. "We can't even guard Mole's Town!"

"We can't go after them—you know that," Jon interrupted, his voice grave but firm. "It's what they want."

"And Little Sam. As if I cut their throats myself."

Grenn stopped pacing. He placed his hands on the table and leaned forward. Caitie couldn't help moving her gaze up to him. Their eyes met for just a moment before she tore hers away, for only now did the truth grip her like a chilly hand wrapping around her heart: it could have been them.

Caitie and Grenn had broken the rules just as much as Black Jack, Kegs, and Mully had—and all because of her. It had been her stupid, selfish need to go into town, and if the circumstances had been different, even if only a little, they could have been caught in the attack, just like Gilly had been caught in it. I risked Grenn's life for nothing. I abandoned Gilly and Little Sam. They're dead because of me, just as much as Sam.

"Maybe she managed to hide herself," Pyp said. He looked around at them, his expression surprisingly earnest. "I thought you was all dead. You went north with Mormont, and no one came back—not for ages. But then you did."

Edd sighed. "She survived Craster. And he was the worst shit I've ever met. She survived the long march to the Wall. She survived a White Walker, for fuck's sake." He paused, while Grenn gave Sam a reassuring half-smile and nod. "She might have got out."

Sam looked around at them, hopefully. "She might have."

Caitie wanted to believe it. She wanted to believe it more than she wanted to believe anything in her life. But she couldn't, because it simply didn't feel true. And though she knew she should have pretended she felt otherwise for Sam's sake, she couldn't bring herself to do that, either.

"If they hit Mole's Town," Jon said at length, "then we're next. Mance and his army must be close."

She thought nothing could make her feel worse, but that did it. She would have laughed at Jon's singular ability to sour an already-terrible mood if she hadn't been so miserable.

"A hundred thousand of them?" Grenn asked. "And there's what? A hundred and five of us left?"

"You counting Black Jack, Kegs, and Mully? A hundred and two," Edd said.

Pyp looked down at his cup of ale. "How do a hundred and two men stop a hundred-thousand?"

No one answered his question, because they all knew the truth. They couldn't stop the Wildlings. All Caitie and her friends could do was wait for death to take them.

Her thoughts scattered, but there was one which stood out among all the rest, as clear and bright in her mind as the sun: she didn't want to die.

It had been so abstract before. Caitie made jokes because it didn't feel real. Every time her life had been in danger, she had come out relatively unscathed—and each escape left her feeling more and more invincible because of it. But Caitie wasn't invincible; she was flesh and blood. She could die just like anyone else. So could Pyp and Edd, Sam and Jon. So could Grenn.

And, she thought bitterly, only because Westeros had abandoned them. Every single army in the Seven Kingdoms should have come to their aid. But they wouldn't. The only thing those southerners cared about were themselves and the stupid metal chair that had consumed their ambitions.

They had let Gilly die. They had let Olly's family die. They would let Caitie and her friends die. And this time, there was no escape from it.

Edd walked over to the jug of ale on the table beside Jon and poured a cup. "Whoever dies last," he said, "be a good lad and burn the rest of us. Once I'm done with this world, I don't wanna come back."

He handed each of them a cup, but Caitie didn't drink. She just stared into the dark liquid as if it would show her a way out of the nightmare, should she only look hard enough. As everyone else drank in silence, she tried to see such a path; tried to clear her mind long enough to calm herself. She could not break down—not now, not here, because when she did, it would be volcanic. And no one needed to see that.

Unfortunately, fate had other plans.

"Don't think I've ever seen this one so quiet before now."

It took Caitie a moment to register that Edd was talking about her. Gripping the cup so tightly she thought it might break, she asked, in a tone that was so quiet it was almost inaudible, "What did you say?"

All five of her friends turned to look at her. Quiet as her voice was, they knew what that tone meant: a storm brewing.

"It was a joke, Caitie," replied Edd, as if he thought that was a defense.

She shot him with a glare that could rival Ser Alliser's. "You think this is funny?"

"'Course I don't." He shook his head. "What the hell's gotten into you?"

Rage, as she'd never experienced, filled every inch of her mind. She was no longer in control of anything, not her mind, not her limbs. It was as if she were outside her body, watching herself explode. "What's gotten into me? This!" she bellowed. "We're going to die—Gilly and Little Sam are already dead—and you think it's a good time to make a joke about how I never shut up?"

Caitie realized her error as soon as she finished.

Sam stared at her with a dumbfounded expression, though laced with horror. Edd also stared, his mouth agape as if surprised by her outburst—she couldn't think why. Pyp was glancing between the two of them nervously, while Jon only grimaced as if he'd been expecting something like this from her. Grenn's expression was unreadable, and that was the worst of all.

"I can't do this. I just can't!" She shot up from her seat and pushed herself away from the table with so much force it shook. Her ale spilled and wet her tunic, but she didn't care. Before anyone could even attempt to yell back at her, she was out the door, running, with no true destination in mind.

Eventually, Caitie decided her quarters would offer the solace she needed. By the time she made it there, she didn't have the energy to stand. She sagged against the door as soon as she shut it, then tipped over onto her little bed and cried, allowing her fears and her guilt and her anger to consume her. She felt caged, and the walls of the cage were inching closer, ready to crush her. At least at the Fist of the First Men, there had been no warning. The dead had attacked too quickly; she hadn't had time for fear until it was over. But now... how was she supposed to sit and wait for death without going mad?

Caitie wasn't sure how long it had been when she heard a knock at her door. She considered not answering, but then Grenn's voice said, "I know you're in there. Open up."

Sighing miserably, she took a few quick steps from the bed to the door and swung it open. When Grenn saw her, he looked her up and down, taking her unseemly appearance. Judging by the crustiness of her eyes and the stuffed nose, she knew must have looked... well. Not good.

Not that it mattered anymore.

Grenn didn't seem bothered by her appearance. He passed the threshold of her doorway, shut the door behind him, and then turned around and opened his arms. "Come 'ere."

Caitie didn't even think about it. She just ended up in his embrace and dissolved. She didn't even bother to hide her tears, and if Grenn minded, he didn't show it; he only held her tighter.

"I'm not ready to die," she choked out. "I want more time."

"I know."

His voice reverberated through her body, but it did nothing to soothe her. It only made her chest feel as though it were collapsing in on itself. "I want to see Arthur again. I want to watch Jon brood and listen to Sam's ramblings about whatever book he's reading. I want to sing with Pyp and laugh at Edd's jokes." Her voice cracked. "I want to watch Little Sam grow up and teach Gilly to braid her hair. And Gods, I want to be with you. I can't—"

"You can."

"But it's not fair!" she exclaimed, breaking away from his embrace as her fear turned back into a hate-filled rage. "I shouldn't have to—none of us should! The Seven Kingdoms don't care about us—they abandoned us—so why should we care about them? We should just let them die; it's what they want!"

"You don't mean that."

"Yes, I do! I don't care—I don't care!"

"But you do care," he insisted. "It's who you are."

"I don't want it to be anymore. I want to run away and let them all kill each other, just like they killed Gilly! The Wildlings and the rest of the country can fight it out until they're all dead. It's what they deserve!"

He grabbed her shoulders and forced her to look at him. His eyes were glinting with anger and fear and every other emotion Caitie felt. "Damn it, listen to me. Back at the Fist—you were right. It might be easier not to care, but it's not better. D'you know how I know that? 'Cause even though we're gonna die, I love you. I love you—for this night and all nights to come. However many nights it might be."

She had no time to register what he'd just said before his lips found hers in a searing kiss. It was pure desperation—a man who knew he might never be kissed again, a man who might never feel anything again.

A familiar heat coiled low in her abdomen. She surrendered to it, undoing the fastenings on his leather tunic as fast as she could, while he pulled at her clothes just as impatiently. They shed layer after layer until finally, everything was off, but neither could wait the short walk to the bed. He pushed her up against the wall and pressed into her. He was so close; she could see all the scars on his face, the crease in his brow, the slightly reddish tint in his brown hair and beard, and the exact shade of his brown eyes, filled with lust and love—love for her.

She never wanted him to leave. She wanted him closer, deeper, for she needed him as she'd never needed anything in her life. As she wrapped her legs around his waist to allow him as deep as he could go, he slid a hand down to where she ached for his touch, and she gasped, her eyes falling shut. Stars danced behind her lids and suddenly, she felt something bubbling up in her throat—not a moan or a scream, but words. But before she could get them out, he kissed her again, and she hoped he knew the moment their lips touched, what she wanted to say.

His mouth didn't leave hers until he had brought her over the edge, and she had brought him. They collapsed onto the bed, still breathing heavily, and she nestled into his bare chest. She could feel his heartbeat as it slowed to a steady beat, and that reassured her like nothing else could.

She knew, then, that Grenn was right: she did care. She cared about the smallfolk; the innocent men, women, and children who would die if they didn't defeat the Wildlings. She always would, no matter the cost. Because that was what she wanted: to do what was right, not what was simply easy. For Gilly's memory, for her friends still with her now, for all those who still needed protection, and for herself.

And it was Grenn who made her remember that.

"I love you," she said. She lifted her head to look him in the eye. "You know that, don't you?"

"You mean that?" he asked, grinning.

Caitie rolled her eyes at him. "Yes. Why? Do you?"

He snorted. "Sometimes, you ask the stupidest questions. I said I love you for this night and all nights to come, and I meant it." And he kissed her again. She smiled into it as she slid her arms around his neck and kissed him back.

"You know," she said once they came up for air, "I find it highly amusing that you used a quote from the black to tell me you love me."

"I thought you might." He rolled on top of her. She opened her mouth to make a wry comment, but his expression turned serious, and she forgot whatever she'd been about to say.

"I don't believe in gods," he said. "Not here. But I believe in you."

"You're sickening." But she smiled, regardless. She hadn't thought it would be possible for her to smile ever again.

He smiled back. "Never thought I'd fall in love, you know."

Caitie arched a brow. "What about that girl you grew up with?" She tried to sound casual, but she couldn't keep the hint of insecurity—and jealousy—out of her voice.

"Well, I liked her fine, but it wasn't love." He furrowed his brows, and she watched as the truth dawned on him. "Wait a second—are you jealous?"

She scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous."

"Seven Hells, you are." Caitie pushed him off her and sat up as he laughed. "And you gave me trouble about being jealous."

"I am not jealous."

"Aye, you are." He smirked. "Not that I mind."

She crossed her arms. "Ugh. You're such an ass."

"Didn't seem like you felt that way a minute ago."

"Oh, shut up."

Grenn obeyed, but only because he pressed his lips to the sensitive spot right behind her ear. She refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing it affect her, keeping her arms crossed and her expression haughty.

He chuckled against her skin as he trailed his lips down her neck to the hollow between it and her collarbone.

"It-it's not going to work," she said, her voice growing feebler every second that passed. Because it was working. He knew it as well as she did. His lips continued on their path as calloused hands skimmed her arms, down her sides, and even lower to graze her hips. His beard scraped her skin where his lips touched, and she bit back a sigh.

But just when she was about to give in, he removed his lips. "Do you want me to stop?"

Seeing the opportunity, she pushed him down onto his back and straddled him. "Don't you dare."

Grenn laughed again, but it turned into a groan when she guided him into her.

"I love you," she told him. "For this night and all nights to come."

And she would.

Well, I don't know about you, but I almost threw up, because that was absolutely disgusting. But it's pretty average for two teenagers, so meh.

Anyway, I've finally gotten back around to rereading the books (after a very long time), and oh my god I've forgotten how different it is from the show. Even Season 1, which most people I know consider pretty faithful, is still insanely different with the details. I'm so sorry if you're a book fan because this story does not follow it. I wish I could say I feel bad about that, but my relationship with the books is... complicated, so I prefer sticking to the show's direction. Sorry, again!