The library was too quiet.
Night had fallen at Castle Black, but the library was devoid of most of its usual evening inhabitants, with Gilly caring for Little Sam and Maester Aemon feeling too unwell to make the journey from his solar. Caitie and Sam were the only exceptions, while Jon was the rare addition, sitting in the chair next to hers.
She kept looking over her shoulder to the rows of bookshelves behind her, expecting to hear Shireen's voice. But the princess was miles away now, on the road to Winterfell.
Usually, Caitie, Sam, and Jon would have bantered and bickered with each other, giving her a good distraction. This evening, they all had their own tasks. The map of the north held Jon's attention. Caitie, meanwhile, was doing her best to ignore Sam, who was not-so-subtly trying to get her attention. He puttered around, pretending to focus on organizing bookshelves, doing a poor job of pretending he wasn't watching her every move.
Instead of acknowledging it, she rested her cheek on her hand and studied Jon, taking notice of the crease between his brows as he peered over the table in concentration. When he glanced up and shot her a quizzical look, she only grinned, shrugged, and went back to observing the map in front of them.
Stannis had given them the whole of the Royal Fleet, so the lord commander and his party—which comprised Caitie, Edd, Tormund, and a small contingent of black brothers Jon trusted—would sail through the Shivering Sea from Eastwatch to Storrold's Point, where Hardhome sat at the tip of the peninsula.
That was the easy part. The hard part would be convincing the Wildlings to trust them—if they didn't kill them on the spot first.
Caitie did her best not to think about the fact that only twenty black brothers would be going ashore, into a settlement housing a hundred-thousand Wildlings. She and her friends may have been good at killing and surviving against the odds, but that amount was just a bit too much, even for them.
Yet, despite the gravity of the mission, she was excited to see the only true city north of the Wall. She was excited to be on a ship for the first time and excited to go north again, even as tried her best to manage her expectations after remembering her excitement the first time she went to Craster's Keep.
Seven Hells, she hoped this time would be different.
At last, Sam cleared his throat for what Caitie counted as the fifth time and his gaze flickered to hers. She sighed. "Are you going to keep looking at me like that until we leave?"
Jon blinked at the sudden disruption of quiet.
Sam only winced. "Kitty," he said, "we need to talk about it."
"And what do you want me to say, Sam?" she snapped, twisting around to glare at him. "I can't control what Stannis does or doesn't do any more than I can stop winter from coming."
"What?" Jon's expression turned sharp as he looked up at her, the map of the far north forgotten.
Caitie tipped her head back and groaned. This was the exact conversation she wanted to avoid before the mission to Hardhome. "The king insinuated he might execute my father."
The moment she spoke the words aloud, the reality of them set in. Until now, her father's death had been a dream, something far away and unattainable. Now it wasn't, and she didn't know what to make of it. For Arthur's sake, yes, she wanted him dead. For hers, too. But he was still her father. There was still a part of her, however small, that loved him; that wished he could be a father to them; that craved his approval and love, even though she knew she could never get it. Maybe that was why she hated him so much.
And regardless of all that, wanting him dead made Caitie as good as a kinslayer.
"Stannis said this?" Jon asked.
Sam cleared his throat. "He said the Lord of Light may or may not be merciful towards her father." He hesitated, on the verge of speaking, but unable to get the words out.
"But?" Caitie asked, feeling less and less confident by the second. If Sam was worried, then that meant there was something to worry about. And if he didn't want to tell her, it was something bad.
She and Jon waited.
"Well," Sam said, wringing his hands and averting his gaze, "if he does grant mercy to your father, he may… he may tell him you're here."
All the color drained from Jon's face, and if she had to guess, hers too. Somehow, she hadn't thought of it, even though she should have.
There were a lot of things she should have thought of and somehow had not.
"Of course," Sam continued, now deep in thought, "he is concerned about the White Walker threat. It's possible he thinks you're more valuable, here with us. So he may not."
Caitie hardly heard this, mind reeling as she thought over every possibility, each one worse than the last.
Even if Stannis did value her, he would still be honor-bound to tell her father where she was. And even if she got lucky and he decided to kill him instead, what did that mean for Arthur? Would Stannis spare him? The man had never been known for a soft heart.
Then again, he'd said he would make Arthur the Lord of Norwood so long as he bent the knee. That had to count for something, didn't it?
Caitie shook all these thoughts away before they consumed her. She'd spent the last three years training herself to think of the battle ahead; that couldn't change now.
"Either way," she said with false bravado, "it's irrelevant. This is all speculation. It will take months—maybe longer—for Stannis to march to Winterfell, take the castle, consolidate his power, and tell my father about me. By the time he knows, I might already be dead or the road might be impassable or any number of other things. And this is all assuming Stannis wins and my father doesn't get himself burned alive or stabbed, first."
Sam didn't look convinced.
"I can't worry about my father right now," Caitie told him. "Or Arthur or Norwood. There's nothing I can do. If I dwell on it, I'll just go mad with anxiety, and that is the last thing the mission to Hardhome needs."
Anxiety helped no one, least of all herself, so giving into it was not an option.
"If—if you're sure," Sam said hesitantly.
"I'm sure." She glanced over at Jon, only to find him observing her.
Caitie waited for him to say something, to argue with her or at least force her to talk about it, but his eyes flitted across her face, before he looked down at the map and said, "If we make a hard march at first light on the morrow, we'll be at Eastwatch within a week."
Grateful for the change in topic, Caitie nodded. "And then it's a week of sailing to Hardhome?"
"Aye."
"So, if all goes well, we'll be away for about a month."
"If all goes well," Jon agreed.
"I'm not sure I like the idea of leaving Ser Alliser in charge that long."
"He's first ranger."
She eyed him. "And whose fault was that, again?"
Jon glowered at her.
"Maester Aemon will keep him under control," Sam added, trying his level best to sound cheerful.
Except Maester Aemon's condition was deteriorating more and more every day. Caitie doubted he could do anything beyond shaking a finger at Ser Alliser.
But she held her tongue. Sam was already worried enough about her and Jon. He didn't need to worry about Maester Aemon, too.
"I'm going to miss you both terribly, you know," he said, drawing Caitie back to the present.
She and Jon both smiled at him. "We'll miss you, too."
She was about to turn her attention back to the map in front of her, but then she saw Sam hesitating again, twiddling his thumbs like he usually did when he was nervous to tell them something.
Gods, how much bad news could he possibly have?
"Sam?" she asked tentatively.
Jon looked back up, too, furrowing his brow.
"Well, you see," Sam said slowly, "I have some gifts for you both. I was going to wait until you came back, but…"
But they might not come back.
Caitie and Jon exchanged furtive glances as they stood up to wait, but Sam wouldn't have noticed, anyway. He had already ducked around the corner to one of the shelves in the back of the library. They could hear some shuffling, and then he was in front of them again with two books in his arms; one leatherbound, the other a simple collection of parchment bound together with glue.
Of course a present from Sam would entail books, Caitie thought, a fond smile spreading across her face.
"First, Jon," he said, holding out the larger of the two—the leatherbound one. "A history of all the recorded lord commanders of the Night's Watch. You have quite a few ancestors in there. It'll give you something to read during your journey."
Jon looked down at the book and then back up at his friend. "Thank you, Sam." And even though Jon had never been a great reader, Caitie knew he meant it with all his heart.
"And for you," Sam said, holding out the smaller of the two books for Caitie to take. "I found this the other day. I thought you might want to look at it since you've started singing again."
Caitie took it from him and read the title, only to realize that it was a collection of songs. "I don't know what to say," she said. "Sam… thank you."
He smiled in the way that only Sam could, bright and kind and innocent. "Of course, Kitty."
Opening the book, Caitie thumbed through the pages. The first few songs she knew—Seasons of My Love, Noble Maiden Fair, Jenny of Oldstones, the ever-popular The Bear and the Maiden Fair. Even The Rains of Castamere made an appearance.
Then, on the seventh page, she came across a title of a song she'd never heard. Yet it struck her as familiar, although she couldn't place why.
Brave Danny Flint.
Caitie returned to her chair and leaned forward get a better look at the words on the page, wondering why this title had called to her. When she started reading, her breath hitched.
Hear you now the sad lament of brave young Danny Flint
Whose parents died of sickness when she was naught but ten
So off young Danny went to live with her wicked uncle
Who one night stole her maidenhead so into the North she fled
Oh Danny Flint you'll never escape
The fate the Gods have written
And life must seem the cruelest jape
Oh brave young Danny Flint
North she fled to take the black and leave her troubled past
She cut her hair and changed her name to Danny Flint the Brave!
At the Nightfort Danny took the oath
Thought a boy by all
And she hoped to live forever as a brother upon the Wall
Oh Danny Flint you'll never escape
the fate the Gods have written
And life must seem the cruelest jape
Oh brave young Danny Flint
Now Danny was so diligent to keep from watchful stares
But one night as she bathed her brothers saw her body bare
These men were quick to break their vows as they threw her to the ground
They took her honor then her life while Danny made not a sound
Oh Danny Flint there's no escape
the fate the Gods have written
And life does seem the cruelest jape
Oh brave young Danny Flint
It's said Young Danny still yet walks the Nightfort's shadowy halls
A pale form singing sorrowfully the loneliest saddest song
Just like Danny Flint, Caitie made not a sound as she read, growing stiller and stiller with each line. Though she wanted to stop, to push the book away before she could finish, she persisted with a morbid sort of curiosity. In her head she kept repeating: It did not happen to me. It did not happen to me.
But it could have, and that terrified her.
No wonder her brothers had asked Mormont to look out for her. The similarities between Caitie Norrey and Danny Flint were impossible to ignore.
Jon was the first to notice something wrong. He was at her side instantly, kneeling beside her chair. "Caitie?"
Sam furrowed his brows and leaned over her shoulder. "What's wrong?"
She sucked in a breath and uttered two words: "Read it."
Jon bent towards the table to get a better look at the page. "Seven Hells."
"Gods be good!" Sam exclaimed, not a moment later. "Caitie, I'm sorry. I didn't know that was in there!"
She almost snapped at Sam that his sorry didn't do much good now, but one look at his expression silenced her. He had meant to give her a gift, and he was torturing himself for hurting her instead. The last thing Caitie wanted was to add to his guilt.
"You couldn't have known," Jon answered gravely.
"Yes, I could have. I knew the song existed."
"You had no reason to know it would be in there."
Sam opened his mouth to argue, but before he could, Caitie took a deep breath. She had tuned out her fear before, and she would do it again. "It's all right, Sam," she lied. "I'm all right."
She tried to force herself to believe it.
"We would never let anything like that happen to you," he assured her.
Jon nodded. "Ghost would rip out their throats. And so would I."
"Not to mention what you would do to anyone who tried," Sam said, nudging her.
"Castration, probably," Caitie said with a little smile.
As both Jon and Sam shuddered at the thought, the words on the page caught her eye again. Beside them were the notes to sing the melody, and... An idea came to her. What had happened to Danny Flint was an atrocity. It wasn't haunting or beautiful or a cautionary tale. It was just violence for violence's sake, and the first-ever sister of the Night's Watch deserved better than that. But maybe... maybe Caitie could give it to her. Perhaps it would make her feel better; perhaps it would make her feel worse, but it was better than doing nothing at all.
She looked up at Sam. "Would you mind if I still kept the book?"
He laughed shakily, posture easing now that hers had, too. "Of course. It was a gift, wasn't it?"
And then another idea occurred to her. She spoke before she could change her mind. "Sam, is Maester Aemon taking visitors today?"
Sam's smile faded into a grimace. "He's not feeling up to it," he said. "But I could take a message to him if you like."
Looking between her two friends—and knowing how they'd most likely disapprove—Caitie sighed. "I want to know if he'll allow me to take some Essence of Nightshade with me when Jon and I leave."
"Oh no," Sam groaned. "This again?"
She fixed him with a glare, disliking the implication that she was being irrational. "Yes, this again. If I would rather die than be raped and then die, I think that's my right."
He sighed. "Kitty, you can't ask me to help you… help you end your own life."
"I'm not asking you to help me kill myself," she argued, keeping her voice level despite wanting to scream in frustration. "Personally, I enjoy living. I would only use poison if I had no other choice."
When Sam looked to Jon for help, Caitie expected to find resistance from him, too.
She found the opposite.
"Sam," he said. "She's right."
But Sam only pushed back against them both. "Maester Aemon will never allow it, even with the lord commander's approval. He made a promise to protect you, remember?"
"He will agree," Caitie insisted. "Because this is for my protection."
Against black brothers and Wildlings and even her father.
Sam sighed again, but this time, she could tell he was close to accepting defeat. He just needed a little push. "What would I even tell him?" he asked.
"Tell him…" she trailed off, thinking. It didn't take long to come up with her answer. "Tell him, 'Valar morghulis.'"
With the last vial of Essence of Nightshade at Castle Black strapped safely to her belt, Caitie stood in the snowy courtyard, securing her horse's saddle. At her side was Sam, holding a leather satchel in his hands.
He wouldn't tell her what was in it.
Not that she could blame him. Besides vague comments of "put this there" or "go saddle that," almost no one in the courtyard spoke. The atmosphere was too tense—too fragile. One wrong word and the tension would break into violence.
Caitie could feel Ser Alliser's eyes on her, along with all the other officers standing at his side. She didn't dare look back at them, reminding herself that they couldn't hurt her.
Brave Danny Flint was just a song. It didn't have any effect on her.
Olly stood only a few feet away, but looking at him would be even worse than looking at Thorne. The one time Caitie glanced his way, he met her eyes with the same blazing fury as the last time they'd spoken—and the worst part was that she deserved it. Olly was a boy who lost everyone he loved in mere moments, and Caitie had treated it with all the delicacy and kindness of a blunted sword on someone's neck.
She wondered when it would come back to bite her.
A whine broke through Caitie's thoughts, reminding her of the other person in the courtyard who was less than pleased with her and Jon.
Sighing, she turned to Ghost, who was on the side opposite to Sam. His red eyes were large and sad, and she if she didn't know any better, she would have said he was attempting to manipulate her. Caitie had never been as good at resisting his puppy-eyes as Jon, after all, and Ghost would be smart enough to pick up on it.
"Don't look at me like that," she said, just in case he was. "Jon won't be gone for long."
She hoped.
Ghost's eyes narrowed, evidently believing the lie about as much as she did.
"He has to go, boy. You know that."
Ghost's whines grew in force as he pawed at the ground in front of her. Somehow, she got the feeling he was angrier that they were leaving him behind than that they were going.
Caitie crossed her arms and tried a different tactic, because if there was one thing she could always count on, it was Ghost being protective of his pack. "You wouldn't want to leave Sam and Gilly on their own, would you?"
At the sound of his name, Sam seemed to remember where he was. He put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. "We'll take good care of you, boy. I promise. And Jon will be back before we know it."
Caitie smiled. "See?" she said. "And Hobb will give you as many leftovers as you want. Jon already gave him the order."
The bribe was what ultimately did it; Caitie knew she should have used it earlier. Ghost's whines subsided, and she threw her arms around his neck. "I'll miss you, boy. Behave for Sam and Gilly, and promise me you'll keep them safe."
He nuzzled his head into her neck. She took that to mean he'd do as she asked.
As Caitie stood, the noise in the courtyard quieted. She looked up and saw Edd and Addam on either side of Tormund, escorting him up to Jon, who stood at the base of the steps to the elevator. The two leaders sized each other up, the tension growing as they did.
It only ended when Jon broke eye contact and nodded towards Edd. As Edd produced the key to Tormund's chain from inside his cloak and unlocked them, Caitie waited for the tension to break—for some idiot to take out his weapons, orders be damned, and attempt to kill Tormund.
No one did.
Involuntarily, her eyes sought Thorne, and though she'd prepared herself, what she saw still terrified her. In her whole life, she had never seen such pure hatred on someone's face before now—not even from her father.
At least he didn't seem to care about her anymore. Whatever anger he held towards the woman who dishonored the Night's Watch was nothing compare to his anger at Jon and Tormund, the latter of whom was raising his now-free hands while Edd pushed him towards his horse.
Ghost abandoned Caitie's side to slink along in the shadows, following his master as he made his way to Ser Alliser. Good, she thought. The direwolf trusted the first ranger about as much as she did, and if Thorne so much as looked at Jon wrong, Ghost would be at his throat in an instant.
"First Ranger," Jon said, "you have command of Castle Black."
"Lord Commander, it is my duty to tell you I believe this mission to be reckless, foolhardy, and an insult to all the brothers who have died fighting the Wildlings."
"As always," the lord commander replied, keeping his tone even despite his obvious frustration, "thank you for your honesty."
Caitie stifled a snort as Jon spun around without a spare glance toward his second-in-command. The childish part of her enjoyed that Thorne had no choice to obey Jon, that he had to keep his voice respectful at all times, that he would have to take orders for the rest of his life. And maybe if he'd been a different man, she would have been able to muster a shred of sympathy for him, but after everything he'd done—well—he'd brought it all on himself.
But she was almost eighteen, and no longer a child, so she tried to quash the feeling.
When Jon's eyes found his friends, his face morphed into a soft smile. Caitie couldn't help returning it as he approached.
"Safe travels, Lord Commander," Sam said.
"Thank you, Sam."
Remembering the satchel in his hands, he held it out for Jon to take. "Oh, um…"
Jon furrowed his brows as he accepted; plunging his hand inside, he rooted around the satchel, then withdrew to reveal…
Seven Hells, she couldn't believe she'd forgotten about that.
Jon's brows furrowed, so Sam explained, "It's dragonglass. It's what I used to kill the White Walker."
"Zīrtys perzys."
Both men stared at her, confused by the strange syllables that had come out of her mouth. Caitie was confused, herself; she'd never had a thought in High Valyrian she hadn't first translated, but when she'd seen the dragonglass, it had been the first thing which came to mind.
"It's the High Valyrian word for dragonglass," she explained when she found her voice. "Literally, 'frozen fire.'"
Jon nodded, staring back down at the dragonglass dagger in his hands. After a pause, he returned it to its satchel.
"I hope you don't need it," Sam said.
Jon smiled. "Me too."
The two men embraced, slapping each other's backs. When they broke apart, they eyed Caitie.
"Are you ready?" Jon asked.
She shrugged. "Ask me again when we get there."
"You have your poison?"
She patted her belt. "Safe and sound."
"Have I ever told you that you have a death wish?"
"Mm, I think so," she said. "But not for a while."
"You could do with being told more often."
She had been about to reply with something undoubtedly witty, though she didn't quite know what, when Sam cleared his throat to get their attention. Caitie and Jon both jumped at the sound. Somehow, she'd forgotten Sam was there, and it seemed that Jon had, too.
"I'll miss you," Sam told her, with a watery smile on his plump face.
She swallowed the lump in her throat. "I'll miss you more."
When he drew her into his arms, Caitie burrowed her head into his cloak, knowing full well this could be the last time she ever saw him, or Gilly, or Little Sam. She held on tightly for as long as she could.
After they pulled away, Jon squeezed Sam's shoulder, smiled, and strode over to his horse. Caitie gave Sam a reassuring grin before vaulting onto her own horse beside Tormund's. As she gripped the reins and settled into the saddle, she saw Jon glance over his shoulder at Sam one last time. Then, with a deep breath, he set his horse forward and rode out the gate. The rest of their party followed his lead.
As their horses meandered along the well-worn path to Eastwatch, no one spoke. There wasn't much to say, after all, with those dressed in black eyeing the one dressed in grey apprehensively.
Edd didn't even blink. He kept a firm glare on the Wildling next to him, waiting for something to go amiss.
Tormund seemed not to notice the stares on his back. He cleared his throat. "Didn't think you'd be coming."
Caitie started when she realized he was speaking to her, not having expected him to speak at all. Thankfully, she recovered her composure quickly enough to avoid him noticing. "Oh?"
He nodded. "Dangerous for a crow. Even more dangerous for a girl crow."
That probably should have unnerved Caitie more than it did, especially with the words of Brave Danny Flint echoing in her head. But she was used to dangerous situations by now. She had her book of songs that Sam had given her. It felt like an extra layer of armor, something to anchor her to reality.
And, if things went sour at Hardhome, she had her poison as a last defense. No matter what happened, Caitie wouldn't suffer the same fate as the other girl who'd joined the Night's Watch. She'd made sure of it.
"Well," she said, with her free hand clutching the poison attached to her belt, "I've been told I have a death wish."
Tormund considered her for a moment. Then, "You've got balls, I'll give you that," he said with a huff of laughter. They fell into a silence that was almost friendly, but after a moment or two of riding side-by-side, he spoke again. "When you came to talk to me in my cell, you said one of your best friends was one of my people. Who'd you mean?"
Caitie blinked. "Oh." She hadn't even remembered that bit of their conversation until now. "My friend, Gilly. She used to live at Craster's Keep, but her son fled south with my friend, Sam, after some black brothers mutinied and took it over."
"And you let her through your gate?"
"Well, not me. I was… detained at the time. But yes, she was allowed to stay south of the Wall. You'd have to ask her or Sam for the details; I don't know much else."
Tormund went quiet. "Huh," he said eventually, but he didn't elaborate.
Still, Caitie got the feeling her words had affected him more than he'd let on, because, after a pause, he guided his horse forward to Jon, and spoke in low tones with him, gesturing over with a nod towards her a few times. When the conversation between them was over, something had changed. Caitie couldn't quite put her finger on how—no one behaved differently—but the atmosphere was just a little less hostile than before.
And somehow, it gave her hope that their mission to Hardhome might actually be a success.
Buckle in motherfuckers, the next chapter's gonna be a long one.
PS: Brave Danny Flint has no canonical lyrics. But some wonderful person on the internet wrote lyrics for it, and that's what I used. If you want to hear the actual song, just type in Brave Danny Flint on YouTube. It should be the first video that pops up.