Caitie moved silently through the halls of Castle Black like a ghost, keeping to the shadows so no one would notice her. The few brothers she couldn't avoid passing ignored her, too busy whispering to each other about what Jon had done to care about anything else.

When she finally arrived at the Tower of the Lord Commander, she was surprised to find the door to Jon's office open. She could see him, hunched over his desk, eyes closed, his fingers rubbing his temples. Ghost was curled up next to his desk in front of the fire, fast asleep. Neither noticed her in the doorway.

Caitie opened her mouth to speak, only to lose whatever she was going to say a second later when she took in Jon's appearance. There were circles underneath his eyes, and his shoulders slumped. He looked as though he was going to fall apart.

"You should get some rest."

Jon's eyes shot up to hers and he smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Too much to do."

Caitie weighed his words in her head and found she couldn't disagree. "Fair."

As she walked towards him, Jon stood and echoed her, meeting her in the middle of the room. For a moment, neither said a word. Then he closed his eyes, swaying on his feet, and Caitie grasped his forearms to keep him from falling. She almost told him to go get some sleep, regardless of responsibilities, but Jon beat her to speaking.

"Did I do the right thing?"

"Yes," she said. "It wasn't easy, but the right thing rarely is."

"A part of me knows that." He took a shuddering breath. "And the other part feels like a fool. The fool who destroyed the Night's Watch."

"You know that's not true."

"Isn't it? I never wanted to be lord commander. All I wanted was to be the first ranger, like my uncle—to belong somewhere. This was never meant for me."

That was something Caitie could understand. All she'd ever wanted was to belong; to feel accepted and respected, first by her family, and then by the Night's Watch. But, like Jon, she'd been made for a different life; in her case, to be a lady of some castle and the broodmare for some lord. Her life at Castle Black had never been meant for her, and people never accepted her because of it.

But that didn't mean she hadn't done good, or that she didn't have a place she belonged.

"So what if it wasn't?" she asked. "Being lord commander might not have been what you wanted, but that doesn't mean you're not good at it. I wasn't meant to fight—wasn't meant for any of this. But I made a place for myself, and so did you." When he still didn't look convinced, she took one of his hands and laced her fingers through his. "Listen to me. You are many things—stubborn, brooding, mildly judgmental, overly serious, a bit on the pretentious side—"

"Is this supposed to be helping me?" Jon asked wryly.

Caitie rolled her eyes. "You didn't let me finish. I was going to say that you're a lot of things, but you're not a fool, and you do belong. You belong with Sam, and Edd, and Ghost, and me. And what you did was the bravest thing anyone has done in the last eight thousand years."

"Aye. It's like Ser Alliser said. We've been fighting them for thousands of years."

"You're going to listen to him, of all people?"

"He wasn't wrong. They've slaughtered our brothers."

"And we've slaughtered theirs."

There was a pause as Jon fought a smile. "Using my words against me now, are you?"

She smiled back. "Take it as a compliment."

For just a moment, his eyes brightened. He chuckled, staring down at their interwoven hands as if it held all the secrets to the world, and opened his mouth to reply.

But then his face darkened once more. "Olly will never forgive me."

Caitie's smile fell. "He was here?"

"He brought me supper. Asked me if it was a trick. When I told him it wasn't…"

Jon didn't need to finish. The look on Olly's face during the meeting was proof enough of how he felt about all this.

Caitie wanted to assure Jon that this was expected, and that, in time, Olly would forgive him, but she didn't know if it was true. Half the Night's Watch might never forgive him—not that they held him in such high regard in the first place.

"I wish I could tell you it's all going to be okay," she said. "But I think we both know that would be a lie. It might all go to shit."

Jon snorted.

"What I can tell you is that I believe you did the right thing. And so do Sam and Edd."

"Edd?" he asked skeptically.

"He came around."

"Well, that's something," Jon sighed. "Tormund insisted I accompany him to Hardhome. Stannis has agreed to lend the royal fleet."

"Hmm," Caitie mused. "I've never been on a ship before."

"I take it this means you're coming with me?"

She scoffed. "You thought I'd let you go beyond the Wall to a place full of a hundred-thousand Wildling warriors without me?"

"It'll be dangerous," Jon pointed out.

"Life is dangerous, but that's never stopped us before. Besides, I could do with getting away from Castle Black for a while." As much as Caitie loved her home, she wouldn't miss all the stares and comments directed at her.

"I can imagine," Jon said.

She sighed. "I hate to leave Sam and Gilly alone, though. If we take Edd, too, the only person they'll have looking out for them is Hobb, and he's not much of a fighter."

"I'll leave Ghost behind to keep watch over them."

"Oh," Caitie said, surprised she hadn't thought of it herself. "You know, that's actually a really good idea."

"I do have some, from time to time."

"Well, every now and again."

Jon cleared his throat, arching a brow at her, and Caitie couldn't tell if he was indignant or amused. Or both.

"Oh fine," she said, rolling her eyes. "A bit more than that."

"Only a bit?"

"Don't push it."

He laughed, and it lit up his face. "All right, all right. I know better than to argue with you."

Caitie grinned. "As you should. After all, when do I ever lose?"

"Rarely. Which is why I'm gonna ask you to speak to Olly. I don't know if it'll do anything but…"

But they had to try—for Olly's sake, as well as theirs.

"Hmm, well, I think I could manage that," she said. "But will you be all right, if I go now?"

"What do you think?"

Caitie frowned, observing his features: the dark circles under his eyes, the chapped lips, the messy curls which now bordered on unkempt.

But he still had a fire of certainty in his eyes; faint, but definitely there.

"I think you are going to be all right," she said. "Maybe not now, but eventually. I promise."

For a moment, Jon said nothing. And then, "There are few people I'd believe if they said that to me. But I believe you."

"Good," replied Caitie. "We pledged to guard the realms of men, Jon. And that's what we're going to do."

Olly was in the armory when Caitie found him, light streaming in from the high windows, and piles of armor strewn haphazardly around the room as he threw swords down onto their racks with so much force that she thought the racks might break.

Her insides twisted as she watched the scene unfold. Caitie had never seen him like this before, not when she'd first met him, not after the Battle of Castle Black, and certainly not because of Jon. Olly had always looked up to him—worshipped the ground the lord commander walked on.

But maybe that hadn't been such a good thing. The higher the pedestal, the further the fall.

And fall Jon had.

Olly didn't hear her come in, too busy destroying the weapons racks. It allowed Caitie some time to think about what she should say.

I'm sorry, felt too simple, too weak. Are you okay? was a question to which she knew the answer.

After some debate, she cleared her throat and asked, "Is there anything I can do?"

Though she couldn't see his face, his shoulders stiffened, and when he spoke, his voice betrayed no emotion. "Tell me why," he said.

Before Caitie could give him an answer, he spun around to face her. His eyes blazed with fury. "He says it's not a trick, so why did he do it?"

"Because there's no better alternative," she replied. "Because the only other option is to keep fighting until we're all dead."

"We could leave them to rot where they belong."

"We can't. It wouldn't be right."

"Why not?" Olly spat. "They butchered everyone I've ever known." His voice broke. "They put an arrow through my father's head right in front of me. Cut my mother down with an axe twice her size. Is that okay, then? Is that what you're saying?"

"Of course not! Nothing could make that okay—"

"So then why? Why not let them get what's coming to them?"

"Because how many Wildling children are out there, do you think, whose parents were killed in front of them, just like you?"

"They are nothing like me!"

Caitie took a deep breath. Getting angry wouldn't help anything. Olly was angry and hurt and not thinking clearly—but she understood it, because she'd felt that way about Grenn for longer than she wanted to admit. "I know how hard this must be for you. And you're allowed to feel the way you feel," she told him. "Nothing can change what happened to you. Nothing can make it better, and you're under no obligation to try. But all I can do is try to make sure it never happens to anyone else ever again."

"By allying with the Wildlings? They'll slit our throats as soon as they're able."

"You haven't seen the army of the dead—you haven't seen what the White Walkers do to them. If they get an offer to come south, they're going to take it."

"But they deserve it!" he cried, any control he had left over his emotion leaving him as he finally allowed himself to break. "All of them! They're not people like us—they deserve everything they get. If I could kill every last one, I would. Every man, woman, and child, for what they did to me."

"I understand why you feel that way," she said, and Gods did she. "Truly, I do. I lost the two people I loved most in the world, and it nearly killed me. But I won't let it control me, because I know it wouldn't be right to leave them with the White Walkers."

Olly laughed, cold and high-pitched, and it sent shivers down her spine that she forced herself to ignore. "Of course you'd say that. You're a Wildling lover, just like the lord commander!" Tears were spilling down his cheeks and his face flushed with rage. "But you've never lost anything to them! You don't know what it's like!"

Caitie froze. "You're wrong," she said, trying to keep her voice steady as Olly's words conjured an image of Grenn in her mind. "I've lost plenty to the Wildlings, and I hated them for longer than I want to admit. But I also know they've lost plenty to me. I don't want to be the cause of someone's suffering anymore."

"You don't get it—my parents are dead!"

And at that, something inside of Caitie snapped. "Seven Hells, Olly, wake up! People are dying all around you—you're not the only one to lose the people you love!"

She regretted it the moment she said it. But he just wasn't listening to her, and she couldn't keep the words contained. Caitie did get it—so did Jon and Sam and Edd—but she also knew that not everything was about them. I can love and still realize there are things more important than just my love.

She just... didn't want to hurt people anymore. And right or wrong, true or false, she'd hurt Olly.

It seemed she couldn't stop hurting the people she cared about.

"I'm sorry—I didn't mean to say it like that," she said gently.

"Yes, you did." The spark of anger in his voice had gone. Now it was just... blank; like there was nothing left inside of him.

He didn't let her speak another word. With nothing but a glare, Olly brushed past her and out of the armory as an ominous chill ran down Caitie's spine, leaving her to wonder what she had just done.

"That was a cruel thing to say."

Caitie flinched at this new voice, turning around to find herself looking into the large, expressive eyes of Princess Shireen.

She cast her eyes down to the floor. "I know."

"But you weren't wrong, either."

"I don't think that matters to him."

Shireen shook her head. "I've seen the way Olly looks at Gilly and Little Sam. He doesn't even acknowledge them unless he has to, and when he does, he's very cold. I don't think there was anything you could have said to change his mind."

"Maybe. But I shouldn't have said what I said."

"No," Shireen agreed, not unkindly. "You shouldn't have."

Caitie rubbed her temples. "What do you think of all this? Do you think we did the right thing?"

Shireen furrowed her brows. "You want to know what I think?"

"Yes," Caitie said. "Very much so."

The princess chewed on her bottom lip, deep in thought. Finally, she said, "I don't think letting innocent people die just because they're Wildlings is something a good person does. But I also think you knew that already without me telling you."

Caitie chuckled, although it lacked humor. "I wish the rest of the Night's Watch understood as well as you did."

"You don't think they will?"

"Maybe some of them. But the Night's Watch and the Wildlings have a long, bloody history and the battle is still fresh in their minds. Everyone here has lost someone to it—most, less than a year ago."

Shireen looked up at Caitie, eyes soft with sympathy. "Did you?"

All she could do was nod.

"Is that what you meant when you told Olly he wasn't the first person to lose the people he loves?"

Caitie flinched, hearing those horrible, cruel words come from someone else. Nevertheless, she nodded again.

"You lost your brothers, too, didn't you?" Shireen asked. "At the Red Wedding."

"My older ones. My youngest is still alive."

"I lost my older brothers, too. I never met them, though. They died at birth—before I was born." She frowned. "I'm sorry, it's not really the same, is it?"

Despite everything, Caitie smiled at Shireen's attempt to relate. "Don't apologize. I didn't know you had brothers. What were their names?"

"Petyr, Tommard, and Edric. What were yours?"

"Owen and Cerys," Caitie said as a lump formed in her throat. She swallowed it down and focused on the present.

"I probably should have known that. Father says I have to know the names of every lord in the Seven Kingdoms, and his children's too."

Caitie raised an eyebrow. "Does he even know all of them?"

Shireen giggled. "No. He just likes to pretend he does. He says it's his duty as king. And mine as his heir." Her smile fell, as if she'd forgotten that she wasn't just a princess, but the future queen. She would be a leader, a ruler, but she was still just a girl. It was strange to think about, yet somehow... it was right.

"You know," Caitie found herself saying, "I don't know if anyone's told you this, but you're going to be a great queen someday."

Shireen blinked. "You think so? Really?"

There was no question about it. She had every single trait a good queen needed. And Caitie might have hated the idea of bending, but if there was one person who deserved her fealty, it was Shireen.

"Really."

Shireen's face split into a beam, and quick as lightning, she darted towards Caitie and wrapped her arms around her middle. "I'm glad you didn't die after the choosing."

Caitie hugged the princess back, laughing. "That makes two of us."

After a beat, Shireen pulled away. "After my father takes Winterfell, would you come and visit me? You could bring Gilly and we could explore the crypts together. I know how to avoid my mother, and I'm sure Ser Davos would help us."

Caitie's heart sank. With all the commotion surrounding Jon and the Wildlings and the Night's Watch, Caitie had forgotten about Stannis's plan to take Winterfell from the Boltons. Worse, she hadn't even given a thought about what would happen to Shireen if Stannis lost.

Once again, Caitie wondered if she should have accepted Stannis's offer, for the princess's sake, if nothing else. But she knew she couldn't, and it broke her heart.

She forced a smile. "Maybe we can even convince Jon to take a leave of absence and give us a personal tour."

Shireen's eyes lit up. "I wonder if he knows about any secret passages."

"Why don't you ask him?"

"Well, I wanted to, but... I didn't want to bother him."

Caitie shook her head; after everything that had happened today, what Jon needed was someone like Shireen. She could cheer up anyone. "I doubt he'd mind, and I don't think he's too busy; he's probably just brooding in his office. Why don't we go now?"

"You don't mind?"

"Of course not."

The princess broke into a grin once more and linked her arm with Caitie's. They walked down the hallways, Shireen peppering her with questions all the while about everything from Norwood and growing up in the North to the Fist of the First Men. Half the questions she'd already asked, but Caitie didn't mind answering again.

As they talked, a sort of spell fell over Caitie; not sadness, exactly, just... she realized just how much she would miss Shireen when she left. Caitie had gotten so used to seeing the princess in the library over the past three weeks, hearing her voice as she spoke in rapid sentences about all the things she knew or had learned, that she had become a fixture in the chaos of Caitie's life.

And now, as Shireen was in the middle of telling her about a story she'd never heard about the knight, Ser Byron Swann, with a mirrored shield attempting to fight the dragon Vhagar, it dawned on Caitie that this might never happen again. She almost didn't notice when they came upon Ser Davos, walking down the hall, searching for something.

"There you are," he said when he saw them. He ignored Caitie—she wasn't even sure he noticed her presence, for he only had eyes for Shireen. "I've been looking for you. You'd better pack your things. We leave at sunrise for Winterfell."

Shireen's eyes lit up, but Caitie frowned. She had thought Shireen would stay at Castle Black, where it was, at the very least, marginally safer. It was awful enough to wonder what would happen if Stannis failed without the image of her lying dead on the battlefield beside him.

"I should probably go, then," Shireen said, innocent eyes looking up at her. "But you'll see us off tomorrow, won't you?"

Caitie smiled, hiding all her emotions with one exception: just how much she was going to miss Shireen Baratheon. "I'll be there. I promise."

Caitie woke before sunrise. She dressed quickly, fingers clumsy from sleep, and didn't bother with her hair at all, leaving it loose around her shoulders, instead. It had grown since the battle of Castle Black, and usually she would have to tie it up to keep it from getting in her face while she worked, but that would take an effort she simply didn't have so early in the morning.

The corridors were deserted as she ran through them, and by the time she made it to the courtyard, she worried she might be too late to say goodbye to Shireen. It was still dark when she got there; the only light came from the torches carried by the Baratheon soldiers. Caitie breathed a sigh of relief they hadn't departed yet.

Her eyes sought familiar faces, and she smiled when she found two of her favorite people in the world. They were speaking with Hobb off in a corner by the steps to the corridor leading to the library. Gilly was laughing as he spoke, gesticulating wildly. Sam had an arm around Gilly's shoulder, smiling a dopey smile as he watched her holding Little Sam, who was fast asleep in his mother's arms.

Hobb was the first to notice Caitie. "Hello, there," he said when she approached, grinning. "I don't think I've ever seen you up this early before."

"Count yourself lucky," said Sam with a sly little grin.

Caitie crossed her arms. "I happen to think I'm delightful in the mornings."

He shot her a look.

"Well!" she said, clapping her hands together and ignoring Sam's expression to focus on Hobb. "You certainly seem in a good mood. I thought you might be…"

"Pissed about yesterday?" he supplied.

"Something like that."

Sam and Gilly eyed each other, but they didn't cut in as she watched Hobb search for what he wanted to say.

"I wasn't happy about it, at first," he admitted eventually, "but then I thought to myself, 'well, the Wildlings can't be as bad as this one here, and I still like her.'" He pointed a thumb at Gilly.

"Hey!" she exclaimed, scowling. "I'm not the one who ruined the stew yesterday with too much salt."

"It was the perfect amount of salt!"

"No, it wasn't," Caitie and Sam chorused.

Hobb ignored them. "Point is," he said, "I'm not against letting the Wildlings down south. I might've been a long time ago, but not anymore. If the lord commander thinks this is right, then I believe him."

Caitie nodded, holding back a sigh of relief. Hobb didn't hate her or Jon. And he was a good person to have on their side, considering that always knew the gossip before anyone else. If she wanted to gauge the general opinions of those around her, he was the person to ask.

"I don't suppose you've spoken with any of the others about it?"

The temperature seemed to drop.

"I won't lie," he said gravely, "a lot of them are angry."

Sam shook his head, desperately trying to sound positive. "But we knew some of them would be."

"Aye, we did," Hobb agreed. "But we don't know how they'll react."

He was right. Knowing how their brothers would feel couldn't predict what they would do. Or who they would take their anger out on without her, Jon, and Edd around to protect them.

But Gilly and Little Sam would have Ghost to protect them, and knowing that reassured Caitie well enough for the moment.

The sun rose into the sky and activity in the courtyard multiplied as all the Baratheon soldiers readied themselves for their march to Winterfell. Hobb left to prepare breakfast, leaving Caitie, Gilly, and Sam to watch and wait for Shireen.

Before long, the queen and princess emerged, both donning traveling dresses. Shireen's hair was pulled back in an intricate braid, and Caitie wondered if she could emulate it when her hair grew out more. Probably not without some help.

She would just have to ask Shireen when she saw her next.

"Do you think she'll be all right?" Gilly murmured as the three of them watched Shireen mount her horse. With the queen beside her, they wouldn't have the chance to speak with the princess before she left.

Sam rested the side of his head against hers. "Oh, of course she'll be all right, Gilly."

Caitie tried to force herself to voice her agreement with him, but she couldn't get the words out, even when Sam stared at her, waiting expectantly.

To be honest, she couldn't blame him. Anyone who knew the first thing about war would bet their gold on Stannis Baratheon. He had the larger army, well-rested and fed after their stay at Castle Black. He was battle-tested, cunning, and ruthless.

But she knew the North. It was a part of her, in her very blood. Owen always said that its people drew strength and received protection from the weirwood trees—supposedly the conduits of the Old Gods. It was why, according to him, southerners could not hold the North, just as Northerners could not hold the south, which remained under the influence of the Seven.

Though the weirwoods felt magical, Caitie had never actually believed it. And yet, true or not, there was one thing she knew: southerners did not do well in the North when they had not been invited.

"I hope so," Caitie finally said. It was all she could get out.

If she said it out loud that Shireen would be all right, did that make her odds of survival even less likely?

It was silly—pure superstition—but Caitie couldn't help thinking it.

Gilly nodded, sighing. "Yeah, me too."

They went back to silence after that, watching Shireen speak to Ser Davos with a smile on her face. Caitie could just make out the conversation taking place between them.

"Do you think Father will let me go down into the crypt?" she asked, as if she hadn't already made plans to go down there, regardless of whether her father agreed to it or not.

Davos blinked. "Beg your pardon?"

"At Winterfell. All the Kings in the North are buried there. Bran the Builder, and King Dorren, and—"

"First things first," he said, smiling affectionately. "There's a long march ahead. And then we have to take the castle."

Shireen's eyes lit up with excited curiosity. "Is there going to be a battle?"

"Aye, Princess. But you won't be anywhere near—"

"That's enough talk of battle, Ser Davos. You'll scare the child." It was Queen Selyse; she'd come up behind Davos so quickly that no one noticed until she'd spoken. Her expression was neutral and her voice was even, but it left no room for argument, nor did it hold any warmth. The objection was less about protecting her daughter and more about depriving her of speaking to someone she loved.

It was about power, and Caitie hated Queen Selyse for it.

But there was nothing any of them could do about it. Even Ser Davos had no other choice than to nod his head and defer. "Yes, My Queen," he said.

Shireen's face fell. She bowed her head to look at the reins she held in her hands. "I'm not scared," she said once her mother had gone.

Davos turned to face her again. "Well, I am. When the battle comes, promise you'll protect me."

Shireen giggled. "I promise."

Gilly shot Caitie a look as if to say, See? He's not so bad.

And even with her reservations, Caitie had to agree. Whatever issues she had with Ser Davos—and oh, did she have them—there was no doubt in Caitie's mind he loved the princess. He would try his best to protect her, even if her parents didn't.

As Ser Davos left Shireen to tend to his own horse, she turned her head to look back at Caitie's group. Sam placed a comforting hand on Gilly's shoulder while she and Caitie gave the princess waves and smiles. Shireen was about to return them until she noticed her mother, who was shooting her a nasty glare.

With her head bowed, Princess Shireen turned away.

Out of the corner of Caitie's eye, she saw Gilly close her eyes to blink back tears. "I'm sorry, Gills," she said, throwing an arm over Gilly's shoulders.

Sam huddled close on her other side, so both he and Caitie were comforting her. Because however much Caitie would miss Shireen, of everyone at Castle Black, the one who would feel her loss the most was Gilly.

Caitie just hoped they would get to see each other again, and soon.

She didn't have long to wallow, because the hairs on the back of her neck stood upright as she sensed a familiar presence. Involuntarily, her eyes sought Jon.

He was walking towards the steps nearest to her and, sensing her gaze on him, his eyes met hers. A flood of emotions passed between them—regret and worry and heartbreak that they couldn't help take back the North; that even if they could help, it might not be enough.

All this passed within seconds.

The clamor in the courtyard heightened as Jon reached the steps. He marched past his friends to meet Stannis, who was more finely dressed than Caitie had ever seen him. His plate armor gleamed and fastened around his shoulders was a perfectly stitched cloak with a wolf pelt on its collar.

Her eyes landed on the burning stag crest emblazoned on the front of his armor. She had to fight a shudder.

Jon and Stannis were too high above Caitie for her to hear their exchange, but whatever it was, the king and the lord commander seemed to have come to an understanding by the end of it. Afterward, Stannis walked down the steps to the yard and paused to look at her with that cold, shrewd expression.

"We sent a raven to Norwood, and received no word back," he said.

Knowing her father as well as she did, Caitie immediately understood what that meant. He didn't want to be an ally or an enemy to the king. If Stannis won Winterfell, he could say a snowstorm blocked any ravens. If Stannis lost, then Roose Bolton would never know her father had considered courting the enemy.

The king seemed to have the same thought. "I suffer under no illusions as to what the slight it entails," he said curtly. "We shall see whether or not the Lord of Light decides to grant Rendon Norrey mercy for it."

Caitie exchanged glances with Sam and Gilly. Stannis was being purposefully vague about his plans for her father, and judging from her friends' expressions, they were at as much of a loss as she was as to why. She glanced upwards to where Jon stood above them, but he hadn't heard. She doubted he would have a better idea of Stannis's meaning than they did, anyway.

As her eyes followed the king to his horse, she noticed Melisandre on the one beside him, dressed in a deep red cowl dress. She stared up at a point above Caitie—at Jon—with the same smirk as when she'd said for this night and all nights to come.

Caitie's heart skipped a beat. Despite her best efforts, the conversation with Melisandre had stuck with her, leaving Caitie to wonder what sort of powers the red priestess truly had, and what she would use them to do.

But not a second later did Melisandre break eye contact with Jon to face forward on her horse toward the gate.

Once the king was safely on his horse, the clamor reached its peak. There were calls of "Mount up!" and "Colors!" The gates opened, and the whole of the Baratheon army—Stormlanders and mercenaries and Caitie didn't know who else—followed the king and his banners out of Castle Black.

She watched as the line of horses wound their way through the snowy path that would take them to Winterfell. The army was so large and the line so long, she couldn't see where it ended. Caitie wasn't the only person so transfixed; every single brother of the Night's Watch watched, their duties forgotten, until the last of the soldiers had marched out, and the gate closed.

Goodbye, Shireen, Caitie thought to herself. Stay safe.

After much deliberation, I decided Shireen deserved a chapter dedicated to her send-off, especially considering... well, you know. It's sad—in only a few scenes between her and Caitie, I've come to love their dynamic.