Soooo, I meant to post this on Sunday (I liked the irony of posting a battle chapter on Valentine's Day. I'm a romantic, what can I say?). And then my power went out. For three days. In a blizzard.
On the bright side, it allowed me to edit even more than usual, and The Watchers on the Wall is my absolute favorite battle episode, so I wanted to do it justice. I hope, with all the extra editing, I succeeded.
As Caitie rode the elevator to the top of the Wall, time stood still.
It was an eerie contrast to the commotion she had just left behind in the courtyard. The only sound came from the wind whistling as she soared upwards; it burned her cheeks and tousled her hair, and all she wanted was to never leave. How lovely it would be to stay suspended in mid-air, darkness all around her and no other sound or movement, where it felt as though nothing could hurt her.
But soon enough, the elevator came to a creaking halt, and Caitie forced herself to step onto the walkways. The commotion was even worse up here than it had been down in the courtyard. People rushed past her, barking out commands, rolling barrels of oil and other explosives every which way. She ignored it, ignored the tension building with every frantic order, and rushed along, searching desperately for her friends.
It didn't take her long to find Jon, standing on the central watch station—the commander's station—looking out at the Haunted Forest, where a massive fire burned over a large swath of trees, so bright it illuminated the black sky.
The signal for the attack.
She could smell the smoke rising from it, mingling with the frigid air and snow to burn her nostrils. Digging her nails into her palms, she held her breath to quell the nausea in her gut. But when Jon turned to look at her, Caitie's stomach only plummeted further. She'd never seen him so distraught—so terrified—in all the years she'd known him.
They stared at each other, unmoving. Caitie couldn't have, even if she'd wanted to. All she could do was watch the abject fear on her friend's face.
It was only when someone ordered, "Light them up! Light them all up!" that Jon came back to his senses.
"We've got to get those barrels loaded," he said, grabbing Caitie's hand and pulling her along after him.
The barrels were too heavy to carry, so she and Jon had to roll them along to their proper carts. At one point, they passed Janos Slynt, who, instead of helping, seemed content to stand around, barking at everyone to pick up the pace, yet without contributing anything of value himself.
Caitie didn't have time to get herself into a fit over the unfairness of it. After they'd finished loading the last of the explosives, Jon went to inform Ser Alliser at the commander's station, and she finally found Grenn and Edd, standing on the watch station just to Jon and Ser Alliser's right.
"I've been looking all over for you," Grenn said when he saw her, smiling with relief. He held a large barrel in one arm, but outstretched his other to take her hand, before he realized they were not alone and retracted it.
"Sorry," Caitie said casually, covering up the awkward moment. "I was with Sam. Gilly and the baby showed up at the southern gate just before the horn blew."
Edd gave her a rare smile. "I said she'd survive, didn't I?"
"Yes, yes, I admit it: I was wrong; you were right."
He sighed and looked back out at the blazing forest. "Wish I could live to relish it. Seven Hells, we're fucked."
No one corrected him. The news about Gilly had given them a slight reprieve, but it couldn't cancel out the turmoil and anxiety around them. As the situation came back to the forefront of their minds, Grenn threw caution to the wind. As subtly as he could, he took Caitie's hand with his free one and squeezed it tightly.
She looked out into the beyond, where tiny dots of light were suddenly visible from the strip of land between the Wall and the Haunted Forest; thousands of them, with accompanying shouts of excitement. Caitie couldn't see where they began or ended. A hundred thousand Wildlings. It couldn't get any worse.
Or so she thought, until she saw the giants.
That she could make them out so well from three hundred feet above was a testament to their size. She was probably smaller than their pinky fingers. There were two of them, the larger of which rode a gargantuan mammoth, and even though she had always known she and her friends were going to die, it wasn't until she saw those giants that she knew it would be in the most miserable way possible.
If the looks on Grenn and Edd's faces were any indication, they thought the same.
"Archers, nock! Everyone else, hold!" Thorne ordered, with Jon still at his side.
If only she had been paying more attention, she would have seen Grenn's hold on his barrel slip. She might even have in able to grab it. But by the time she noticed, it was already too late.
"Grenn, no!" Edd shouted.
Grenn and Caitie both lunged, but neither could reach it in time. The barrel fell, tumbling down the side of the Wall and out of sight. Seconds ticked by in a terrible silence that seemed to go on for ages. The three of them stared back up at Thorne, waiting for his reaction. And as she wondered if they would die by his hand rather than the Wildlings, she gripped Grenn's hand so tightly she thought she might break it.
"I said nock and hold, you cunts!" Ser Alliser screeched. "Does nock mean draw?"
"No, ser!" they all chanted.
"Does fucking hold mean fucking drop!"
"No, ser!"
"Do you all plan to die here tonight?"
"No, Ser!"
"That's very good to hear! Draw!" But before he could order them to loose, the horn sounded again, twice.
Caitie used the confusion to lean in and ask, "Are you all right?"
Grenn nodded stiffly. "'M fine."
She didn't think he was, but before she could do anything more than open her mouth, Janos Slynt appeared at Thorne's side. "They're attacking the southern gate!"
"Now?" Thorne asked.
"Now!"
Bile rose in Caitie's throat at the news. Sam and Pyp were down there, fighting. If the Wildlings were attacking the castle—which, despite its name, was not a castle and did not have the defensive capabilities of one—then they could easily overwhelm her friends. Twenty men weren't enough to hold the line, and most of the men down there were stewards—non-fighters. They didn't stand a chance on their own.
No one said a word as the acting commander debated his course of action. "I'm going down there," he said at last. "Brother Slynt, you have the Wall." He spun around, leaving a white-faced Janos Slynt in charge of their defense.
And Caitie had thought they were all dead before.
True to form, Slynt stared at Jon with wide, fear-filled eyes, unable to speak or move, let alone lead a battle. Realizing the inaction of his second in command, Thorne turned back. "What are you fucking waiting for?" he shouted. "Loose!" And with that, he left for the elevator once more, taking at least twenty men along with him.
Slynt seemed to remember himself. "You heard the man! Loose!"
Fire-lit arrows flew across the night sky. A few of them hit their marks, but all the Wildlings had to do was step back a few feet, and they were out of range. Caitie prayed as she had never prayed in her life that Sam and Pyp were still okay—to whom, she didn't quite know. The Old Gods or the Seven, whichever might hear her.
Beside her, Grenn took a sharp breath, and instantly, she knew something was wrong—well, more wrong. She followed his gaze back down to the army below them, to the mammoth-riding giant. He and his brother marched along with the rest of the army, and towards the outer gate. They're going to attack it, Caitie realized. Oh Gods, Jon was right. The giants were almost as tall as the gate itself, and as she watched them lumber closer and closer to it, she knew that nothing could stop them—not even cold-rolled steel.
Janos Slynt, however, had a different opinion. "No discipline; no training," he said weakly. "Gang of thieves, that's all this is. I commanded the City Watch of King's Landing. Those men obeyed orders."
Edd and Grenn exchanged confused glances. Caitie merely scoffed.
"We can't just let them attack the gate!" Jon exclaimed.
Slynt's voice remained shrill and weak as he argued back. "The bars on those gates are four inches of cold-rolled steel."
"Those are giants riding mammoths down there! You think your cold-rolled steel is gonna stop them?"
"No such thing as giants. A story for the children."
He was mad, Caitie decided—absolutely mad. The battle had robbed him of his wits, admittedly few though there were to begin with. And if the Night's Watch was to survive the night, then Janos Slynt needed to go.
She was in the middle of formulating a plan to knock him out when Grenn muttered, "Let me handle him." He didn't wait for her reply before he swept past her and Edd and made his way to Jon and Slynt on the other station.
"Fucking idiot," Edd grumbled, eyes blazing with fury as he watched their commander.
"Brother Slynt!" At the call, Janos Slynt and Jon turned to look at Grenn. "We just got word that Ser Alliser needs you below."
Slynt stared blankly at him.
"You're the most experienced man he's got, Ser, and he needs you."
"Needed below," Slynt repeated, sounding dazed. "Yes, yes."
He rushed off to the elevator without a second thought, though the idea that anyone needed him below was laughable. If he hadn't been so stupid, Slynt would have known instantly how transparent the lie had been. Or perhaps he just wanted an excuse to go off and hide like the sniveling little coward he was.
Jon and Grenn each gave one another a small nod before the latter grinned and left to rejoin Caitie and Edd. A weight lifted off her chest as everyone on the Wall looked to Jon for new orders. He might not have been an experienced commander, but he was a hell of a lot better than Slynt.
Jon took a deep breath. "Archers! Nock your arrows!"
"Nock arrows!" the archers repeated.
"That was brilliant," Caitie said when Grenn reappeared beside her, just loud enough for her friends to hear.
"Aye," Edd agreed. "Didn't think you had it in you."
"Well, I did. You've always been smarter than you appeared."
Despite the battle raging on, the three of them beamed at each other.
"Draw!" Jon ordered. He raised his arm, paused, and brought it back down, yelling, "Loose!"
More arrows flew, arcing upward, but Caitie didn't see whether they found targets. Her attention had narrowed in on a small band of Wildlings who broke away from the bulk of the horde. They ran as fast as they could towards the base of the Wall, and as soon as they reached it, began to climb.
Jon noticed it, too. "They won't summit before dawn," he called.
Grenn didn't look convinced. "How do you know that?"
"Because I've made that climb."
"I think they're in a bigger hurry than you were!" Edd shouted.
Jon ignored him. "Nock!" A pause. "Draw!" Another pause. "Loose!"
Caitie watched the third volley of arrows sail through the air until, out of the corner of her eye, she saw yet another giant rushing forward. He knelt with a bow in his arms that was as tall as a small cottage and pulled it back to release an arrow the size of a fully grown human. It soared through the air so quickly that no one had any time to react, and destroyed the roof of one of the watch stations. Fortunately, it didn't find any human marks.
"Down!" Jon screeched as the giant pulled his arm back again.
Grenn dragged Caitie to the ground with him, but not before she witnessed a second, impossibly large arrow find a brother much too close to Jon for her liking. Her heart lept as she watched him fly backward, breaking the roof of Jon's platform, and out of sight.
"Are you okay?" Grenn whispered in her ear.
Caitie did a quick check for pain and found none. "I think so," she said.
He breathed a sigh of relief and stood. "Come on. I think the giant's moved."
"Gods, I hope Sam and Pyp are okay."
"Me too."
"Now!" Jon yelled. Caitie shifted her focus back to the battle.
"Now!" Edd repeated.
She watched as four brothers heaved a cart holding barrels of oil over the side of the Wall. The resulting explosions caught Gods only knew how many Wildlings in their path. Caitie thought it was a small victory until she saw that both giants and the mammoth remained unscathed.
She could hear the thud all the way from the top of the Wall when the largest giant dismounted. Guided by both him, his brother, and other Wildlings, the mammoth turned, so his backside was facing the Wall. Caitie and her friends watched with horror as the giant attacked the outer gate—cold-rolled steel and all—with his bare hands. She could see him punching and pulling at the metal with no signs of slowing down.
Worse, though, was the sound of the metal breaking. Even from so many miles above it, she could hear the whine and screech of its destruction.
Caitie hadn't realized she was shaking until Grenn pulled her to his side. But even he couldn't comfort her—not when the other giant attached ropes from the mammoth to the gate and whistled for it to pull. He and the larger giant joined in; all three of them decimating the outer gate.
"I can't look," she said, furious and terrified all at the same time. It was over, just like that, and there was nothing they could do to change it. She'd never felt so helpless before; not even at Craster's Keep.
"I know." Grenn laid his chin on the top of her head and growled, more to himself than anyone else, "Damn it, we've got to get down there and do something."
Caitie agreed with him, but at the same time, she wasn't sure there was anything to do. Those giants were too big, too strong, and the men at Castle Black simply weren't equipped for it.
"Grenn," Jon called.
She flinched at the sound of his voice, but both she and Grenn looked up. Jon jerked his head to an alcove nearby. Grenn gave her a reassuring smile and obeyed.
Caitie was anything but reassured. Ignoring Edd's protests to leave them be, she slunk along behind Jon and Grenn, taking care to stay far enough behind so that neither could see her.
"The outer gate won't hold," Jon said in a hushed tone. "Take five men and hold the inner gate."
Caitie froze.
"Aye." Grenn was already half-turned around when Jon caught his arm.
"Hold the gate," he repeated, low and solemn. "If they make it through…"
Grenn swallowed, and something unspoken passed between the two men. "They won't."
He sounded so sure, so resolute. Caitie knew what it meant: he would hold the gate, no matter the cost, even if the cost was his life.
It was why Jon had chosen him, after all. Ser Alliser had taken at least half of the melee fighters, and of those left, who else could be trusted to hold the gate no matter what? Grenn was brave and loyal and good with a sword—there was no better choice.
They were the watchers on the Wall. She knew that. This was what they trained for, needed for. It was their job to guard the realms of men.
But it didn't matter, and it certainly wasn't a consolation.
The only thing which kept her standing was the fact that if Grenn was taking five men with him, then she needed to be one of them. They'd probably both die, but they were most likely going to die no matter what. At least this way, they'd do it together.
Grenn looked over Jon's shoulder as Caitie emerged from her hiding spot. His eyes found hers instantly. One glance was all it took: he knew that she knew. The battle seemed to pause as they stared at each other. Caitie put a hand on Cerys's hilt. Grenn's eyes lowered to it, and then back up to her.
But then, instead of nodding, he turned around, grabbed an axe off a nearby wall, and hollered, "Come on, Hill! And you, Cooper!" Without a second glance, he walked away, his back turned to Caitie, and pointed up to a level above him. "You three, on me!"
She bit back a scoff, running after his party. He had to take her with him. He had to.
"Come on, you lazy bastards!" he shouted, still walking away from her.
She refused to turn back, even when everyone else filed into the elevator. Grenn was the last, but at the strange expressions on his men's faces, he spun on his heel and came face to face with Caitie. His eyes widened when he saw she had followed him. And then they softened into something much tenderer; full of love, and regret, and fear—but in them, too, was a silent plea, begging her not to follow. Caitie stopped in her tracks as she came to grips with the reality of the situation: he was going, and she was not.
She wanted to tell him she loved him, but she knew she couldn't. That was the worst part. The only thing Caitie could do was send him one last look and hope he knew.
When she retook her place at the watch station, now with only Edd beside her, Caitie wanted to burst into tears. The hollowness in her heart was the only thing which kept them at bay, for there was supposed to be another person beside her, and everything seemed empty without him.
Part of her wanted to be angry—at Grenn for refusing to take her with him, at Jon for sending him in the first place. Anger was the easier emotion. But she knew, even as she fought herself, that it was also the wrong emotion. This was what war did: it forced good people to make terrible choices because the alternative was worse.
So she wasn't angry; she was just… sad. Unbearably and inconsolably.
"Hey," Edd said, placing a hand on her shoulder. She could tell he was trying to be gentle, but somehow, it only made her feel worse. "You okay?"
Caitie gave him a nod. She didn't trust herself to do or say anything more than that.
Was Grenn in the tunnel yet? No, he couldn't be. The elevator ride was too long. He'd have just made it to the courtyard.
"I know," Edd continued, somehow picking up on her thoughts. "I didn't like it, either."
Caitie tried to smile at him, but she failed and gave him a grimace instead. As much as she appreciated Edd's comfort, she couldn't listen to it. If she did, she might actually break.
Jon joined them moments later, fortunately taking Edd's attention away from her. "Do we have news from below?"
"Nothing," Edd replied grimly.
Jon nodded. But then his eyes moved to Caitie, and the commotion might as well have disappeared into thin air. His eyes bored into hers, full of so much emotion it took her breath away. "Caitie, I—"
She held up a hand to stop him before he brought her to tears. "Let's just… focus on the battle."
She didn't know a man could look so tortured, so regretful, so... hollow. As hollow as she felt. Pain tore at her heart, and yet she couldn't look away from him.
Until the explosion happened, and he pulled her and Edd to the ground with him.
Caitie clapped her hands over her ears, but it did nothing to mute the sound. It would have made thunder seem positively quiet by comparison. The shrieking boom! mingled with the screams of those caught in the fiery explosion. Above Caitie's head, shrapnel continued to fly.
"What the fuck was that?" Edd growled.
She swallowed. "Someone must have mishandled a barrel."
He let out a slew of curse words. "If we die just 'cause some idiot screwed up—"
"Edd," Caitie snapped, thinking of Grenn's mishap from earlier. She winced at the sound of her voice and lowered it to a cracked whisper. "Please, just stop."
It said a lot that he listened without complaint.
Cautiously, the three of them stood, ready to duck once more at a moment's notice, but the need never came. Once everyone was upright again, Jon looked around, surveying the damage. Thankfully, it seemed contained to the station next to theirs; the rest remained intact. Jon turned to his friends. "Are you both all right?"
Caitie and Edd nodded.
Without the prospect of imminent death, her thoughts strayed to Grenn once more. He had to be close to the tunnel by now. With her heart in her throat, Caitie leaned forward to look over the Wall. But before she could get a good view of the outer gate, she heard the pounding of boots as someone ran up to them and turned around.
"Sam!" she cried, barely resisting the desire to attack him in a hug.
"What are you doing up here?" Jon asked, not taking his eyes off the army below them.
"The Wildlings are over the walls!" Sam replied. "Ser Alliser's fallen—the castle won't hold for much longer!"
Jon stood stiffly, thinking, weighing his options, while Caitie put her hand on Owen's hilt. She didn't care what Jon decided. Grenn may have left her behind, but she was going down there to fight, to protect her friends if it was the last thing she ever fucking did.
"Edd," Jon said at last. "You have the Wall." Edd blanched, but before he could protest or do anything more than stare in shock, Jon was in his face, barking orders. "If they try the mammoths again, drop fire on them. If the climbers get too high, drop the scythe on them."
He didn't wait for any kind of response before he tore off, Sam close behind.
"Don't die," Caitie said. "And good luck."
She bolted off after her other friends, dodging crates and scattered weapons. Caitie saw Jon raise Longclaw in front of her as she ran to catch up. "Come, brothers," he rallied. "Now, fight with me!"
Finally, she fell into pace with him and Sam. They were first to scramble into the elevator, and as the three of them waited for everyone else, Caitie asked, "is Pyp…?"
Sam screwed his eyes shut, as if trying to rid himself of a painful memory, and shook his head. "I was with him when he..."
No one said anything in response; after all, what could they? As the elevator descended, all Caitie could think was that Grenn and Pyp had been best friends since their recruit days. If she and Grenn both miraculously made it through the night, she would have to tell him.
I wonder if the giant has broken through the outer gate yet. If Grenn is battling him. If he's—
"I don't want you out there." Jon's voice broke her thoughts. For one horrible moment, she thought he might have been talking to her. And if Jon was set on babying her, too, she'd stab him instead of the Wildlings.
Alas, it was Sam to whom he spoke.
"You can't protect me forever," Sam said, though his voice shook slightly. "There won't be anywhere to hide if the castle falls."
Jon's expression didn't change as he took a key from the inside of his cloak and held it up. "I need him more than I need you."
Sam paused, his hand hovering just above the key. But then he nodded meekly and accepted it. The elevator grew quiet once more. But not for long.
"Are you ready?"
Caitie looked over at Jon, and as he looked back, she saw something familiar to her own feelings in his eyes. Determination, she realized. He was just as afraid, as angry, as sad as she was. But they would do whatever it took to keep the Wildlings at bay. They would protect those who could not protect themselves. And they would do it together.
She nodded.
As it neared the landing point, the elevator slowed, but Jon didn't wait for it to stop. He pushed the door open and jumped out, Longclaw in hand, hitting the wooden platform in a tuck-and-roll. Caitie followed his example. They hadn't any time to take in the scene before a Wildling attacked, but Jon slashed him across the middle, which gave her half a moment to look around.
It didn't take long to see that the courtyard was a bloodbath. There wasn't an inch of ground not covered in blood or guts or bodies.
A battle cry pierced the air as two more Wildlings rushed at them from either side. Caitie left Jon to deal with the one closest to him while she faced the other. The Wildling attacked lazily, apparently believing her to be an easy target. She dislodged his head with a flourish, ignoring the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach as she kicked the remainder of his body out of the way.
The Wildlings would not show Caitie mercy, nor would they show Jon, Sam, Grenn, or Edd. Just like they hadn't shown Pyp.
And so neither could she.
While Jon cut through the Wildlings on his way down the steps, Caitie ignored them altogether. She opted instead to jump off the platform and into the fray.
A bloodbath wasn't a strong enough word, she decided. They had gotten everywhere—the balconies, the dining hall, the library, the kitchens, even the roof. It angered her in a way she did not expect. But this was Caitie's home, and the Wildlings were destroying it.
An archer sat poised for attack on the walkway to the kitchens. She made a mental note to stay out of their line of sight as she flew around the battlefield, taking out as many Wildlings as she possibly could, one after the other with methodical precision. Her small stature came in handy; none of them seemed to notice her until it was too late. She sawed off limbs, sliced into hearts and necks and eyes, and with each kill, her horror faded. It would return eventually, Caitie knew, but for now... Better them than me.
She wiped the blood and sweat from her brow after removing her daggers from a Wildling's stomach and used a slight lull to take in her surroundings. She quickly found Jon, who was battling two Thenns at once, though neither was the Magnar—the leader of the clan. The fight had come to a stalemate; Jon was too busy defending himself from their attacks to get any of his own past their guard.
She would have to fix that.
Caitie snuck around behind the Thenns, keeping her footsteps light and her senses alert for any surprises. No one besides Jon noticed her presence. When he realized what she was doing, he drew their line of sight away, allowing her to kill the first with a dagger straight through his heart. It left the second so surprised that his guard went down, and Jon thrust Longclaw into his stomach.
Caitie and Jon worked as a deadly team. They flowed together on the battlefield, perfectly in sync, all without a word spoken. Neither needed it. They just knew, instinctively, what to do. He drew the enemies to him, and she snuck around to deliver the kill—cold, silent, and efficient. She didn't know how many lives they ended together—she lost count at ten.
Soon, though, Caitie saw Sam in her peripheral vision, running towards the kennel. A fire-lit arrow sailed over his head and embedded itself into the wood above the kennel door. A Wildling on the other side of the courtyard noticed him, but she was too quick. He was dead before he got within ten feet of Sam, who fumbled with the key as he inserted it in the lock. When the door swung open, Caitie saw red eyes emerge from the darkness. The great and terrible Ghost had come to save them.
Sensing movement, she tore her gaze away from her friends, over and up to the doors to the great hall. A ginger man with a full beard was ascending the stairs to it. Though he had an arrow in his shoulder, he still managed to cut down every man standing in his way. Seeing this, Caitie left Jon to finish off one of the less imposing Wildlings and followed.
She had just made it to the bottom step when a Wildling woman intercepted her. Tall, willowy, dark-haired, and much faster with her greatsword than she had any right to be. Neither made a noise as they fought. Caitie dodged a fatal blow from the sword, just barely; it still cut into her side. But she didn't feel any pain, only the thump of the blood pounding in her ears.
Suddenly, Caitie sensed Jon nearby. She caught sight of him engaged in close combat with a Thenn twice his size, carrying a battle-axe that made Longclaw look like a toothpick.
The Magnar. Damn it. Jon had warned them about him, and, more importantly, he had warned them not to go up against him alone.
She growled in frustration, wanting—needing—to get to him. But before she could disengage and run to help, her opponent lunged, swinging her greatsword wildly as Caitie danced out of reach, desperately trying not to be impaled. But then the Wildling's foot caught her leg, and before Caitie knew what was happening, she had fallen, lying sprawled on her back. Deep, throbbing pain radiated from her back, outward, into her arms. Her spine was broken—it had to be. It hurt too much to be otherwise.
The Wildling woman swung her greatsword in an arc. Pure instinct took over as Caitie rolled out of the way. Two seconds' delay, and she would have been skewered. Fast, so fast it didn't feel possible, she pushed herself up and drove Cerys straight through the other woman's throat.
It was over. She was still alive. And her spine was not broken, just bruised. It hurt, but she'd live.
Caitie searched the thinning battlefield for Jon. She found him still battling the Thenn Magnar—and losing. Fear clawed at her heart. He'd lost Longclaw. All he had was a chain. He tried to lash out, get the axe out of the Thenn's hand, but it was a futile effort. Worse, it left him unguarded. The Magnar didn't waste the opportunity it gave him. He grabbed Jon by the hair, punched him in the stomach, over and over, reveling in the pain that it caused. When he'd had his fill, he bashed Jon's head into an anvil beside them.
Caitie screamed, her mind blank of the battle around her as he tossed an injured—dead?—Jon through the forging fire and out of sight. The Magnar was too focused on her friend to care about the cry, but the archer from the walkway, now watching the fight unfold from the ground level, noticed. Her eyes snapped to Caitie like a bird eyeing its prey. It took Caitie no time at all to realize who it was.
Ygritte.
She hadn't known what to expect—red hair, blue-green eyes, and an angular face—but she should have guessed fury. And Gods, did Ygritte look furious.
Caitie froze, her thoughts scrambling. She didn't know why the sight had paralyzed her; all she knew was she couldn't move, couldn't look away from the woman who meant so much to her best friend. Until, after what felt like an age, Ygritte's gaze moved to something behind Caitie, and the spell broke. Seeing the chance, she moved on, infinitely glad that she hadn't been shot at by the woman Jon described one evening as "scarily precise."
Caitie started back on the path towards the opposite side of the forge, but before she could get too far another Thenn, just as bald and scarred as the last, advanced on her; protecting his leader, it seemed. When he saw her, his eyes gleamed like a predator, almost as terrifying as Ghost's.
But larger men than he had fallen to her blades, and this would be no different. She twirled and ducked and deflected until he fell for her feint, leaving his middle unguarded. She kicked in with all her might, getting him off his feet, and brought her dagger down hard, pressing into the Thenn's head. Caitie felt it go through his skull. He keeled over, face forward.
When it was all over, her thoughts returned to Jon. He was in danger, if he wasn't already... No, she wouldn't go there. She just needed to find him. The battle was more blood and bodies than living fighters by now, but there were still too many Wildlings for her liking. Caitie ran as fast as she could to the other side of the forging fire—and found what she was looking for.
But it was so much worse than she could have ever imagined.
Jon, though alive and apparently not seriously injured, sat on the ground amidst the carnage, oblivious to it as he held a lifeless Ygritte in his arms. She had an arrow through her heart, precise enough to be almost instantly lethal. He pressed his forehead to hers and closed his eyes. All the while, the battle raged on around him, yet it seemed not to exist as he held Ygritte close, slowly rocking back and forth on the bloody ground.
Caitie looked away, feeling as though she were intruding on a private moment—which she supposed she was. With her eyes averted, she waited for Jon to get up and take in his surroundings.
He did not. Not even when a Wildling—one of the last left—almost as large as the Thenn Magnar saw him and advanced did Jon move. Nothing could take his attention away from the girl in his arms, not even the prospect of dying himself.
Time slowed as Caitie's legs propelled her forward. She had no plan or strategy; nothing but instinct. The Wildling raised his sword high into the air, and she launched herself over Jon and Ygritte, sinking her dagger into his gut. He gasped upon impact, falling, but even though she had landed a fatal blow, she'd underestimated his constitution. With one last breath, before she could react, his sword connected with the right side of her ribs in a downward slice. He was too weak to use his full force, but she could still hear the crunch! when it made contact with her body.
And then she was falling, falling, for what felt like years, with blood rushing in her ears, and pain so intense she could hardly breathe, until she landed on the ground with a sick thud.
Battle-focus couldn't stop such pain—nothing in all the hells could stop it. Every inch of her body was suddenly on fire. Her ankle had twisted at the wrong angle, too, and pain lanced up her leg. Or maybe it had already been that way, and she just hadn't felt it until now. Caitie didn't know.
She tried to take a shallow breath, and searing pain exploded in her ribs. Her vision blurred; black spots danced in her eyes as a mass came to hover over her. A wet tongue licked her nose. "Ghost," she croaked. She could just make out the direwolf's red eyes hovering over her. Another, even larger mass followed him.
"Sam!" the big blurry mass called. Judging by the voice, it was Jon. "Get her out of here and to Maester Aemon," he said, this time more quietly but no less urgently.
Gods, no, she couldn't leave, yet. Not until she knew if Grenn was alive.
"No, I'm—" Caitie didn't finish. Talking was even worse than breathing. She didn't think she could keep her eyes open any longer as she bit down on her tongue to keep from crying out. Everything was just too exhausting—her whole body hurt: her arms, her legs, even her eyelids. She could feel nausea roiling in her stomach, pushing bile up into the back of her throat. The combination of it all was unbearable.
Am I dying?
"You're not," Jon said. Caitie couldn't tell if he was answering what she'd spoken aloud or if he'd read her mind. If she weren't in so much pain, she would have giggled at his mind-reading abilities.
Someone large and warm and comforting scooped her up as if she weighed nothing. She assumed it was Sam, but it could have been Alliser Thorne at this point, for all she knew or cared.
As she rested her head against his chest, Caitie wondered if she'd get to see Owen and Cerys again once she died.
It was the last thought she had before she drifted off into oblivion.