I know I'm a few weeks late on this, but GUYS, did you guys see the teaser trailer for House of the Dragon? It looks so good!
Caitie didn't know what she would say when she reached the Tower of the Lord Commander.
As soon as her head had cleared from the events of the last few hours, she'd headed up there, where she knew Jon would be going over the letters that had piled up in his absence. She walked up flights of stairs and past darkened windows as if in a trance, until she got to the highest level, where waiting for her was the door to his office. It was closed when she approached it, but she could hear the scraping of a quill against parchment, of someone shifting in their seat.
Taking a deep breath, she gave the wooden door a knock.
"Enter."
Caitie twisted the doorknob and poked her head into the room. Jon sat at his desk, head bowed, with his fingers pressed to his temples as he looked down at a piece of parchment. To his left, Ghost sat obediently. His tail thumped against the ground when he saw her.
"Hi," she said, grimacing at how false the cheer in her voice sounded.
Jon looked up. "Are you all right?"
"I could lie, but I don't think you'd believe me."
He stood from his chair and went to her side, taking her by the shoulders so he could look her over. "What happened?"
"Well, you should expect a couple of visitors to your office tomorrow morning."
Jon raised an eyebrow, waiting.
Caitie almost didn't tell him the rest of what had occurred at the top of the Wall. But one look at his face, and she found the story spilling out: the ambush she and Edd had set up, the threat, the short-lived fight that had turned into something much darker. "I had Brant on his back," she said. "And all I could think was that's how he wanted me—how he wanted Gilly. I wanted him to fear me. Jon, if Edd hadn't been there… I don't know what I might have done."
There was a beat of silence after she'd finished, where Jon didn't move, just taking in what she'd told him. And for those few horrible seconds, she thought he might turn her away. But then he opened his arms, wrapping her in his embrace, and laid his chin on the top of her head.
"I'm afraid," she said into his lord commander's cloak.
"I know."
"I don't want to be like this. But I think it might be who I am."
"It's not."
"I've killed before. People I didn't even need to kill. But I killed them anyway because I wanted to—because they tried to hurt me or someone I cared about, and I wanted to hurt them back. And the worst part is, I don't regret it. I'm glad they're gone. I enjoyed killing them. And I would have now, too."
"I understand," said Jon. "As much as I'm tired of fighting and killing, there are times I've lost myself, too—more than I'd like."
"Like when you killed Slynt?"
"Not just him. Tanner, too. And there was a Free Folk warg—Orell. I wanted to kill all of them. When I did, it felt… I don't know," he said, laughing ruefully at his inability to put his feelings into words. When he sobered, he continued. "But we're trying. That's all we can do. I think it counts for something."
"I have tried. And I've failed, again and again. I'm... I'm exactly like my father."
"That's not true."
"Yes, it is. Look what I said to Olly before we left, or before the battle of Castle Black when I yelled at Edd and upset Sam, or after the Fist of the First Men when I told Grenn and Edd that I'd—" Caitie pressed her lips together before she finished, too ashamed to tell Jon the truth.
"Told them what?" he asked.
She grimaced, but it wasn't as if Jon hadn't either heard or seen all her other shining moments of horribleness. "I may have told them that I'd make them wish the White Walkers had killed them. It was after they'd left Sam behind during the White Walker attack."
Jon barked out a laugh. "Seven Hells, I'd have liked to see that."
"Trust me, you wouldn't." She sighed. "If it had just been Brant and Derek, that would be different. But it's about more than just them. It's about me. Look at what I've done; look at how many times I've lost my temper and hurt the people I love. I've ended lives, and I liked it. I'm my father's daughter in every way."
"You're not," Jon said.
She shook her head. "How could you possibly know that?"
"Because I know you." When Caitie went rigid with surprise, his arms tightened around her. "I've seen you angry. I've seen you say or do things you regret. And I know that you would never hurt a child. You would never kill an innocent or raise a hand to someone you love."
"But I would to someone else."
"If you can forgive the Free Folk; if you can forgive Mormont; if you can forgive me, then you should forgive yourself for that. You've done nothing the rest of us haven't done, too. But you try to do what's right and that matters."
"I suppose," she murmured.
"I'm not saying you don't have a temper, or that you haven't made mistakes. But you're more than that."
"I am?"
"Aye. You're caring, kind, smart." He eyed her. "Overdramatic."
Caitie choked on a laugh that seized her. "Only a little."
Jon chuckled, and after a moment's hesitation, he added, "You're a lot of things, Caitie, but you're not your father. If you trust me in anything, trust me in this."
A hush fell over the room. "I do," she said. "Mostly."
Jon smiled. "It's a start."
Caitie smiled back, wanting to pretend like their conversation fixed everything. She wanted to sit at Jon's desk with him and sip ale, and talk and laugh and maybe even cry a bit. But she had come here for a reason, not so she could fall apart.
It was difficult, but she pulled away from Jon and looked him in the eye. "I hate to say this, but that's not all."
He waited patiently for her to tell him, though she could still see his shoulders tense up at the ominous tone of her voice.
"There have been rumors," she said. "Mostly that I'm a vile seductress who's got you eating out of—well, it doesn't matter."
She saw his hands ball into fists as the implications dawned on him. "Who's spreading them?"
"My guess is at least half the men at Castle Black."
Jon's eyes shut. Caitie heard him utter a swear word under his breath.
"You've got to send me away," she said.
"No. We've had this discussion—"
"But things have changed since then. For one thing, I didn't have anywhere else to go before. Now I do."
"Where?"
"Queenscrown. I think I should stay with the… the Free Folk for a while. Make some friends. Gods know we'll need them." When he still looked skeptical, she added, "Besides, with Stannis marching on Winterfell, who knows what will happen with my father. If he finds out that I'm here—"
"I'd protect you."
She leveled him with a hard look. "The last thing you need is to make an enemy of a powerful Northern lord. If I leave, you can say you had no knowledge of who I was, and that you don't know where I am now. My father isn't stupid, but I don't think even he could believe the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch would allow me to stay here, knowing who I am."
"We could hide you—say you've left."
"It wouldn't work."
"But—"
"Jon," she said sharply, "you're not listening to me: allowing me to stay at Castle Black is hurting your command. And after allying with the Wi—the Free Folk—that is quite literally the last thing you need. We don't have any other choice. We really, really don't."
There was a pause as Caitie could see the tension leak out of Jon's body. He took a sharp, deep breath. "Kill the boy," he said. "That's what Maester Aemon told me when I went to him for counsel. 'Kill the boy and let the man be born.'"
She couldn't help the quirk of her lips. "That sounds like something he would say."
Jon smiled ruefully. "If you think this is right, I'll support you. But I don't want you to do it just for me—not after what happened tonight. What do you want?"
"I don't want to be Danny Flint."
She hadn't meant to say that—she hadn't even thought it until the words flew out of her mouth. But once she'd said them, she knew they were true. Just like with the beheading, the fear of rape and death had stayed inside of her, coiling around her veins and gripping them like a vice. It's what had contributed to this… darkness inside of her.
And she didn't want to feel that way anymore. It only served to hurt her.
"You won't be," Jon said. "Not while I breathe."
Caitie sighed. "I know, but I've been afraid for so long—if I stay here, my it'll just fester and get worse. I need to heal and to do that, I can't be at Castle Black. I need to go somewhere I don't have to look over my shoulder all the time. Where I'm not the girl who dishonored the Night's Watch."
"You're not." Jon sighed. "But I understand."
"It's not forever," she promised. "I will come back."
"You'd better."
"As you wish, Lord Commander."
He smiled, leaning closer to her now, and she followed the example instinctively. "But you have to tell Sam. I don't envy you that conversation."
"Hmm. I think that's a fair deal."
With the matter settled, she felt both lighter and heavier than she had before. Although she knew she would have to leave soon, it could wait a day or so, at least. And before she thought about tomorrow or the day after, she had something she needed to do—something she could only do with the rest of the castle asleep.
This was as good a start as any, she decided. The first step to healing.
"Before I go," she said, "I want to do something. I'd rather not involve the others in it, but I was hoping, as lord commander, you would be willing to help me."
"What is it?"
Caitie held out a hand and jerked her head towards the door. "Walk me to the courtyard and I'll tell you."
Jon, though hesitant, accepted. His fingers slotted between hers, and they set off down the corridor, Ghost trotting along in front of them. She explained in a hurry, feeling lighter and more energized than she had in months. Jon listened intently, nodding along with her.
Once they reached the courtyard, they set to work. It didn't take long to build the small pyre Caitie had envisioned. Without a body, it would only be an effigy, but that was okay. This would serve her purpose well enough.
When they had set everything up the way Caitie wanted it, they lit the pyre. Flames rose into the air, high and bright against the black, starless sky.
After a pause in which they surveyed their handiwork, Jon spoke. "Her name was Danny Flint. She came to us from the North, from House Flint of Widow's Watch. She pledged her life and honor to the Night's Watch, becoming the first woman to grace our order. She deserved a much better ending than the one she got. She was the Watcher on the Walls. The shield that guards the realms of men. We shall never see her like again. And now her watch is ended."
"And now her watch is ended," Caitie murmured.
Then, with a deep, controlled breath, opened her mouth and sang the sad, beautiful melody of Danny Flint's song.
It was a strangely vulnerable experience—singing in front of another person. She hadn't done so since singing to Little Sam, and that wasn't really the same. At the time, she'd cared more about calming him than anything else. And before that, the only people she ever really sang for were her brothers—or, when she had no other choice, at feasts.
But her voice came out strong, clear, and smooth. She sang through the whole song, letting the melody go free, and, in turn, Danny Flint.
Once she'd finished, Jon cleared his throat. "That was…" He paused, apparently struggling for the right word. He settled on, "Lovely."
She smiled. "I should hope so. I've been practicing."
When she exhaled a second breath, there was a sudden shift in the wind. It picked up, blowing her hair every which way, and then a voice so faint that Caitie half-believed she'd imagined it whispered: thank you.
For the first time in a long time, Caitie slept soundly. Not a dream haunted her, good or bad. She simply slept without any interruptions. And when she woke, she felt rested. Caitie hadn't realized how fitful her sleep had been since the battle at Castle Black until this one night of peace.
Light streamed in through her window as she stirred. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust. Once they had, she didn't hesitate before hopping out of bed. Caitie had things to do and people to see, and she wasn't going to let anything stop her from it.
She dressed quickly and, for the first time, worked her hair into two plaits, starting from her temple. Afterward, she raced to the dining hall and grabbed some breakfast. The hall was at about half-capacity, but a chorus of hushed voices still echoed throughout the room. Caitie paid close attention to the brothers' conversations.
"Heard Brant and Derek got themselves tossed in the dungeons."
"Serves 'em right, after what they did."
"You would think that."
"Oh, piss off." A pause. "But why d'you think they went and confessed?"
"How should I know?"
"Just seems strange. They were gonna get off and then they just went and told the lord commander everything."
Caitie smiled into her bowl of mutton. It seemed she and Edd had done a number on Brant and Derek. She couldn't help being pleased by the outcome, even knowing what she'd done. Brant and Derek would get what they deserved. That cheered her right up.
Satisfied, Caitie slipped out the door. Padding through the corridors, she took extra care to avoid people, moving silently and ducking into corners whenever she saw someone coming towards her. That was, until she came across Olly, walking down a lengthy hallway with no cover.
When he spotted her, he hesitated. She could still see that terrible blankness in his eyes. But she needed to speak with him, especially now, on the precipice of her leaving.
"Hello," she said tentatively.
"Caitie." His voice was just as blank as his eyes.
She swallowed. "I've been meaning to find you. Do you think we could talk?"
"Got a lot of duties to attend to."
"I won't keep you long. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. And to apologize."
"For letting the Wildlings through?" She could hear the hopeful note in his voice. It sounded so different from the blank tone of only a sentence ago.
She shook her head, feeling her stomach sink. "I can't apologize for saving lives. But I should have been more sensitive to your feelings."
"If you cared about my feelings, you wouldn't have allied with those monsters. You wouldn't ask me to be their friend."
Caitie didn't get angry like she had last time. But her heart felt like it was made of lead. "I don't think anyone could expect you to be friends with them. And that's okay. You shouldn't have to be. But you're my friend, Olly. If I can help you, just… tell me, all right?"
"Okay," he replied. Caitie took it as a positive sign, even if he seemed tense.
She smiled. "I think I should tell you I'm leaving Castle Black," she said. "But if you want to send me a raven, ask Sam or Jon. They'll know how to contact me." She didn't think it a good idea to mention where she was staying, but she didn't feel too guilty for lying. She and Jon had already decided her location would only be known to a select few.
Olly gave her a rigid nod. "I will." He clasped his hands behind his back and brushed past her.
Caitie exhaled a breath. Olly still didn't seem himself, but at least he seemed open to the possibility of talking to her and Jon again. That was a victory, in and of itself.
She moved on from the hall, heading towards Gilly's quarters. From here, it was only a short distance away. When she got there, she knocked on the door.
"Come in!"
Caitie entered the room. Light streamed through the singular window as Gilly sat on her bed, brushing her hair. Little Sam on the floor nearby, playing with the bottom drawers of his mother's wardrobe. When he saw Caitie, he looked up and grinned, showing two new baby teeth that had come through in her absence.
"Cay!" he cried, abandoning the drawers to crawl over to her.
Caitie met him there halfway and plucked him up from the floor. She situated him on her hip, allowing him to throw his arms around her neck. "Hello there, Little Sam. Ooh, I missed you so, so much."
"And what about me?"
Caitie rolled her eyes, but when she looked at Gilly for the first time since returning home, she felt a weight lift off her shoulders. Gilly looked okay. Not just okay—she looked good. A little tired, maybe, but she didn't look afraid or upset. And she didn't have a scratch on her.
As if Gilly could sense Caitie's thoughts, she said, "You don't have to look at me like that."
"Sorry," Caitie replied. "Sam told me what happened while we were gone. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I meant to come see you first—"
"You had your hands full with that meeting. It's okay. I'm okay," Gilly said, patting the spot next to her on the bed.
Careful not to jostle Little Sam, who was occupying himself playing with Caitie's braid, she sat down. "You're sure?"
"They didn't hurt me. They tried, but... I'm angrier they got away with it than anything else."
Caitie averted her eyes. She had thought she would be helping Gilly, but she hadn't even thought to ask what her friend had wanted before going off and threatening Brant and Derek. What was wrong with her? Was she truly so self-absorbed?
"Uh, hello?" She was vaguely aware of Gilly waving a hand in front of her face. When she didn't immediately reply, Gilly jostled her arm. "Caitie—"
"They didn't."
Gilly's hand fell to her side as she cocked her head. "What?"
"Brant and Derek confessed their crimes and have been locked in the dungeons for the foreseeable future."
Gilly, who knew Caitie much too well, shot her a look. "What did you do?"
"Edd and I caught them on watch duty last night, and we sort of… scared them into telling Jon what they'd done."
"And it worked?"
Somewhat reluctantly, Caitie nodded.
Gilly couldn't seem to think of anything to say for a moment. Finally, she shook her head. "I can't believe you two."
Caitie winced. "I just couldn't bring myself to let them get away with it. I'm sorry. I should have asked you first before going off and—"
"No," Gilly said firmly. "Don't you ever say sorry for that. Those fuckers deserved what they got, so don't even think of feeling bad about it. If you do, I'll… I'll take the knife you gave me and stab you."
And Caitie had to laugh at that. She didn't even know why, but Gilly's approval gave her reassurance. Perhaps because it made her feel like she truly had done some good, rather than engaged in the selfish endeavor to exact revenge, benefiting no one but her. "All right."
"Good." Gilly hesitated before continuing. "Now I… I need you to promise me something."
"Anything."
"If something happens to me and Sam—I want you to promise you'll take care of Little Sam. No matter where we are, how far we end up from each other. Promise me."
Caitie's answer was immediate. "Of course. I'd never let anything happen to him. Neither would Jon. We'd cross the continent to protect him, I promise."
Gilly exhaled the breath Caitie hadn't realized she'd been holding. "Thank you."
"But you know nothing is going to happen to you, right?"
"I think we both know that's not true." When Caitie furrowed her brows, Gilly added, "Sam told me about Hardhome."
"Oh."
"You didn't see my sisters, did you?"
She swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat at the mention of Hardhome. "No, I didn't. I'm so sorry."
Gilly squeezed her eyes shut. "It wasn't your fault. They made their choice to stay up north."
Caitie bit down on her tongue to keep from arguing with Gilly. Because she knew she could have done more. She could have asked after them, made sure they got on the ships first. Then again, they might still have chosen to stay behind.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"Not really."
Yeah, Caitie couldn't blame her for that. "Okay."
They sat in silence for a while as Gilly stewed on her thoughts. Little Sam was more than content to use Caitie as his own personal pillow, and before long, he was fast asleep, head resting against her heart and leaving a puddle of drool on her leathers.
"'S funny," Gilly said at last. "Growing up, it was hard to care. You always had to look out for yourself, 'cause no one else would. I loved them, but I just didn't have it in me to worry about what would happen to them; not when I had Little Sam who needed me. But now I just…" She shook her head. "I can't believe I'm all that's left."
"You're not," Caitie promised. "You've got Little Sam. As long as you do, you'll never be all that's left."
"I know. And I've got Sam, too. And you. You'll help me remember."
Though she tried her best to hide the way her stomach dropped, Gilly still noticed. "What is it?"
"It's—" Nothing, she almost said. But this wasn't something Caitie could just brush off; not when she was about to leave her friends behind because of it. "You've heard the rumors about Jon and I?"
Gilly gave her a sympathetic smile. "Yeah. Sam's been trying to pretend they don't exist, but it's hard not to hear them."
Caitie didn't know why that made her feel worse—she'd already known they were everywhere. But the fact that everyone had known it but her, up until now… That hurt.
She didn't linger on it; if she did, she might just break. "I'm leaving Castle Black."
Gilly didn't seem surprised. "I thought you might." She looked as though she wanted to add something, but she stayed silent.
Suddenly, Caitie felt like she needed to explain herself. "I just don't want anyone thinking I've influenced Jon more than they already do."
"I understand," Gilly said. But still, she frowned.
"What is it?" Caitie asked.
"'S nothing."
"It doesn't look like it's nothing."
"Well… Before you go, do you think you could help me with something? I asked Hobb, but he said he didn't know how, and I don't want to ask Sam. I don't want him to feel like… oh, I don't know."
Caitie furrowed her brows. "What is it?"
Gilly bit her lip, but it turned into a slow, sheepish smile. Caitie even swore she saw the hints of a blush. "What do you know about moon tea?"
Late into the afternoon, Caitie found Sam sitting at the octagonal table in Maester Aemon's old solar, looking over at the fire in the adjacent corner. His eyes were faraway—Caitie didn't know what they were seeing.
She cleared her throat. Sam looked up and smiled.
"Am I interrupting?" she asked.
"I was just thinking."
Caitie took that as an invitation. She closed the door behind her and sat down in the chair next to him, checking the bruising on his cheek. It looked to be healing up well. "I'm sorry about last night," she said.
Sam smiled, taking her hand in his and squeezing. "Oh, Kitty, you have nothing to be sorry for. I'm just glad that they're in the dungeons, and that you're gonna be all right. Even if it means you have to leave."
Caitie blinked. Then, realizing what Sam meant, she sighed. "Gilly told you."
"Gilly told me," he confirmed. When she opened her mouth, he held up a hand to keep her quiet. "I understand why you want to leave after what happened last night. And if Jon couldn't convince you not to, then I certainly can't. I just want you to know that I'll miss you."
Her throat constricted with the tears she was swallowing. She'd never met a soul as good as Sam's, and she wasn't sure she ever would again. "I'll miss you too," she murmured.
"I… also think I should let you know that I'm leaving, too. Gilly and me, I mean. And Little Sam. We discussed it last night, and we both think it's best."
Caitie's jaw went slack. "But I—I spoke to her this morning. She never mentioned—why didn't she say anything?"
Sam sighed. "It would have been easier to let her be the one, but you're my sister. I needed to be the one to tell you."
"Oh," she murmured, unsure what to think, let alone say. She went with: "Does Jon know?"
"Not yet. I'll ask him for permission when I see him. But we can't stay here. Not after—after what happened."
"But where do you plan to go?"
"I want to go to the Citadel. To become a maester."
Caitie opened her mouth to argue with him—to tell him he should stay, to beg him, if necessary. But she knew that would be terribly selfish. Sam would make an incredible maester. He was born for it, just like Arthur had been. And Gilly… she couldn't blame her for wanting to leave Castle Black after what had happened. How was it any different from Caitie wanting to leave?
When she went too long without speaking, Sam cleared his throat. "I used to want to be one when I was a boy, you know. Until my father—" he cut off, swallowing.
"Until your father?" she probed gently.
Sam flinched at the memory. "He told me it would be an embarrassment to our house. 'They make you wear a chain about your neck. If it's chains you want, come with me,' he said. And he had me manacled to the wall for three days and three nights, hand, foot, and neck."
Caitie's hands balled into fists.
Sam continued, oblivious to her rage. "I remember the chain around my neck was so tight I couldn't breathe if I moved wrong. It broke my skin. For the longest time, I wanted nothing to do with the Citadel. But you and Jon made me realize that the person I am—he's not weak. I'm not weak. Becoming a maester—it's who I'm meant to be, and there's nothing wrong with it."
"Oh, Sam." She smiled as she took his hand. "You're going to be the best maester the Citadel has ever had. And you're going to show your bastard of a father just how wrong he is."
"You think so?"
"I know so."
"Jon has to agree to it first."
"He will," Caitie said. "He won't like it, but he will."
Sam looked down at their hands with a guilty expression. "You're not mad? I know how much you love Gilly and Little Sam—"
"You and Gilly need to do whatever it takes to keep your family safe. And for what it's worth, I'm so, so proud of you, even if I'm going to miss you more than I could possibly put into words."
"Thank you, Kitty."
She smiled, thinking this would be the absolute perfect time to bring up what Gilly had told her that morning. But before she could do more than grin, there was a knock on the door. A second later, it swung open, and Jon poked his head in.
"Thought I might find you two here," he said. He held up a bottle and three cups. "I brought ale. I thought we should have some together before Caitie leaves."
"Oh, what a good idea," Sam said.
Jon entered the room and sat down on Sam's other side, across from Caitie. She took the bottle of ale and the cups from him, allowing him to set Longclaw down on the table. When she'd finished pouring them their drinks, she took a sip. Tears sprang to her eyes without warning; she had to blink them back. This might be the last time the three of them drank the terrible Night's Watch ale together.
When Caitie looked up from her drink, she saw Sam eyeing Longclaw.
Jon noticed it, too. "What is it?"
Sam looked up sheepishly. He swallowed. "I would understand if you don't want to talk about it, but… what happened out there? Exactly, I mean—not just what was in the letter you sent."
Caitie and Jon exchanged a glance, a silent conversation brewing between them. Neither wanted to think about Hardhome ever again, but Sam had seen the army of the dead. He'd even killed a White Walker, at one point. He deserved a full account of the battle.
Jon told the story, leaving nothing out, from the moment they stepped onto the docks at Hardhome to when they sailed away, watching the dead rise. Jon stared straight ahead as if he was seeing it in front of him. "He raised his hands, and they all stood up at once. Tens of thousands of them; the biggest army in the world."
"So what are you gonna do?" Sam asked.
Jon smiled sardonically. "I'm gonna hope they don't learn to climb the Wall."
Caitie furrowed her brows. She'd wondered about that. It wasn't as if the Night King and his army didn't have enough men to breach the Wall. Hell, the Shadowfort had steps built into it they could use—and a being as ancient and powerful as the Night King would undoubtedly know about it.
Which meant that there was something more than that, keeping them north. Legend told that Bran the Builder had imbued the Wall with magic. It was difficult to know which legends were real—like the White Walkers—and which weren't, but considering everything, Caitie would guess that there was, in fact, magic imbued within the Wall.
The question was: what could break that magic?
That was a question to which Caitie never wanted an answer.
"But the dragonglass…" Sam said, pulling her back to the present.
Jon took a drink from his cup and shook his head. "No one's getting that back now. It wouldn't have mattered, anyway. Not unless we had a mountain of it."
"But you killed a White Walker," Sam said. She could hear the hopeful excitement in his voice.
"With Longclaw. I saw them shatter steel axes like they were glass, but Longclaw—"
"Is Valyrian steel," Sam finished. "How many Valyrian steel swords are left in the Seven Kingdoms?"
"Not enough." Jon paused, looking down at his drink. Meanwhile, Caitie's mind whirled, filled with more questions than answers. What was it about Valyrian steel that made it fatal to White Walkers, and could it be replicated, somehow?
The answers to her questions prickled the back of her head, but she couldn't unlock them. There was something there; something she had been told. But she couldn't remember what it was. She didn't even know what she was supposed to be remembering.
Maybe if they could find out how Valyrian steel was made… But unless they had a window into the past, that simply wasn't possible.
"The first lord commander in history to sacrifice the lives of sworn brothers to save the lives of Wildlings." Jon looked up at them, a rueful smile on his face. "How's it feel to be friends with the most hated man at Castle Black?"
"You were friends with me when I first came here," Sam replied. "And I wasn't winning any elections back then."
Caitie smiled. "And don't forget about me."
"Here's to us then," Jon said, raising his cup. "Long may they sneer."
The three of them clinked their cups together. After they'd set the cups back down on the table, Sam ducked his head, refusing to meet Jon's eyes.
Noticing, Jon furrowed his brows. "What?"
Sam met his gaze, but his eyes filled with guilt. Caitie nodded encouragingly.
"I wanted to ask you something. To ask something of you." Sam swallowed, readying himself. "Send me, Gilly, and the baby to Oldtown, so I can become a maester." When Jon stared incredulously, he added, "That's what I'm meant to be. Not this."
"I need you here, Sam," Jon said. "Caitie's already leaving. If you leave too, who's left to give me advice I trust?"
"Well, there's Edd."
Jon shot him a look. And Sam, knowing his suggestion was less than stellar, didn't argue with it.
Caitie almost interceded because she knew for a fact that Edd was perceptive when he wanted to be. But this wasn't really about her or Edd or who would give good advice. This was about Sam and Jon, and they had to work it out on their own.
"I'd be more use to you as a maester," Sam said. "More use to everyone, now that Maester Aemon's gone. The citadel has the world's greatest library. I'll learn about history, strategy, healing. And other things—things that will help when… when they come."
Jon's expression was difficult to read. But Caitie knew him well; she could see the sadness, the hurt—even betrayal and possibly anger—on his face.
Still, Sam pressed on, his voice becoming more and more serious with each word. "If Gilly stays here, then she'll die. And the baby that she named after me will die. And I'll end up dying, too, trying to protect them. Which means that the last thing I'll see in this world will be the look in her eyes when I fail them… And I'd rather see a thousand White Walkers than see that."
Something in Jon's features shifted as Sam gave his speech. There was no more hurt; just resignation. He turned his gaze on Caitie. "Did you know about this?"
"Not for long—about two minutes before you showed up." She reached her hand across the table and laid it atop his. "But Jon, he's right. Old Town is home to the biggest library in the Seven Kingdoms. If there's anywhere we could learn more about the White Walkers, and Valyrian steel, it's there."
There was a beat of silence as Jon closed his eyes, leaned forward in his seat, and nodded.
"Thank you," Sam murmured, giving him a sad smile.
It didn't take long for Jon to recompose himself, plastering on a wry expression. "You know that the Citadel will make you swear off women, too."
"Oh, they'll bloody well try."
Jon furrowed his brows. "Sam?"
Sam looked up, his face the picture of innocence. "What?"
"Sam." A grin crept onto Jon's face. Sam's innocent facade crumbled into a smirk, leaving Jon flabbergasted. "You'd just been beaten half to death! How did you—"
"Oh, very carefully."
Caitie snorted. When both her friends glanced over at her, she merely shrugged.
Sam realized first. "Gods be good, what—what did she tell you?"
"Quite a bit, actually." Caitie could see the blush creeping up his neck. "Don't worry, I covered my ears during the nasty bits. I could happily go the rest of my life not hearing about your—"
"Okay, okay!" he interrupted, his cheeks turning a bright pink color.
She suppressed a smirk, feeling only a little guilty for teasing him about this. After all the teasing she'd gotten from him about her first time, she thought he rather deserved it. "Oh, Sam, don't be embarrassed. I'm proud of you. You've finally buttered the biscuit. Threaded the needle. Pulled into port."
"Seven Hells," Sam groaned.
"Sharpened the sword. Opened the bottle. Licked a lamppost in—"
"Caitie!" he exclaimed, trying to contain his astonished laughs. "Gods, what is wrong with you?"
"A lot," Jon said.
She raised an eyebrow. "I don't see you complaining."
"Would it change anything?"
She pretended to think about it. "Probably not. But if you asked really nicely, I might try. For a few days, at least."
Jon shook his head, snorting.
She turned back to Sam. "Really, though," she said, sobering, "I'm happy for you. Both of you."
"You are?" Sam glanced between the two of them, and Caitie could see he needed Jon's blessing more than hers. She understood why, considering Sam was a black brother and Jon was the lord commander.
Luckily for him, Jon nodded, his expression softening. "I'm glad the end of the world's working out for someone."
Sam smiled, eyes roving between Jon and Caitie as if trying to commit their faces to memory. But as the reality soon set in—that this would be the last time the three of them would drink Night's Watch ale together—his face fell. This wasn't like the trip to Hardhome, where there was a set timeframe of return. Gods only knew when they might see each other again.
"I'll come back," Sam said quietly, but Caitie could hear the confidence in his voice, nonetheless.
She smiled, reaching over and squeezing his hand. "We both will."
Jon raised his cup, eyes flickering between his friends. "To your return."
She and Sam echoed him. "To our return."
And together, they sipped their terrible ales, enjoying each other's company for what Caitie knew could be the last time for a long time.
The first time I learned about Brave Danny Flint I was so furious I almost threw my phone across the room. This chapter was mainly my therapy session, working through my anger at GRRM for including it in his world-building.