The Worth of Ash
Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Game of Thrones or any related titles, characters, plots, setting, etc. These rights belong to George R. R. Martin, HBO, and their various publishers and distributors. I own only the original elements of this story, the writing and publishing of which earn me no money.
Chapter Nine
The morning brought with it many questions: namely, how long Ser Jaime could continue to watch over Kyren at the expense of his Kingsguard duties. There were several important figures debating, and Kyren was well aware that her presence was due to the simple fact that she had followed Ser Jaime to the meeting in silence, and had thus been forgotten completely. After several circling conversations, King Robert cut through the words with a single impatient gesture.
"Ser Jaime, consider yourself relieved of the duties of Kingsguard."
Only Kyren, with her gaze trained so closely on Ser Jaime's face, saw the flash of fear that crossed it. "My king," he said, rising his inflection so that it was a subtle question.
"Until the girl is well," King Robert clarified.
"As you command, my king," Ser Jaime agreed, voice tinged with a hint of relief that Kyren could not quite understand.
The party disbanded at that point. There were preparations to be made. Ser Jaime set off determinedly and Kyren followed behind him. When they had moved beyond hearing range of any others, she stepped to his side and asked, "Why are you in the Kingsguard? What do you gain?"
Ser Jaime's emerald eyes flashed down to her in bemused surprise. "Honor, naturally."
"There is honor in being a simple knight and a great deal more freedom," she insisted. "And with your family's wealth and position, you would have been landed almost immediately and could have risen to be a lord in your own right. Why the Kingsguard?"
He sighed in irritation. "Fine, then. The chance to do great deeds was a large draw."
"How many great deeds have you performed?" Kyren pressed, not meanly.
"How many have you?" Ser Jaime snapped, having truly lost his temper.
Rather than respond in anger, Kyren gave the question serious thought, considering and discarding several of the more important things she had done in her life. "None, Ser. I pray you will forgive my boldness, but I fear it is the same number you feel you have done."
"You truly believe I have never performed a great deed?"
Kyren shook her head. "I believe you have done many great deeds, Ser. I merely meant that you do not believe you have."
"Kyren?" The girl turned to find Septa Mordane beckoning her over toward the Stark section of the caravan. "The healer believes that one final dose of Dragon's Tears will help ease the day's travel."
"If you will excuse me, Ser?" Kyren said with a slight bow. She rushed toward the Septa before he could give a response.
Jaime stomped through the camp, muttering to himself all the while. His stiffly-held shoulders relaxed only minutely when he heard a silvery laugh.
"Are these declarations of love I hear?" Cersei asked teasingly.
"Most assuredly not," he snarled.
"Good. However, I do not hear assertions of love from the girl, either, and I believe that was a major provision of our challenge. Regardless," she purred, smoothing a hand across his chest from behind, "the time limit has been reached. Consider our deal nullified."
"We both know I will not give up so easily," Jaime bit out, turning to his twin just as a bitter expression crossed her lovely face.
"Are you replacing me with the orphan girl, Jaime?"
"Never," he asserted softly. "I count the days until our return to King's Landing. We cannot be alone soon enough to suit me."
Her smile was achingly familiar and he belonged to her alone, so why did Jaime's throat sting with a desperate need for freedom? He pushed the feeling aside and wrapped Cersei in as brotherly an embrace as he could muster before moving off to continue making his arrangements for the day.
In the end, it was a fairly simple series of tasks: order the innkeeper to locate a wagon, hitch Kyren's oddly-colored stallion and his own dun gelding to the vehicle, pack away Kyren's tent and belongings, place them in the wagon, and make a makeshift pallet in the back for the girl to lie on and sleep through their journey.
He rode up to the girl and fixed her with a glare so fierce that she obediently climbed into the wagon and rested on the pallet without a word in question or complaint. Their wagon was to bring up the rear of the royal caravan, a far cry from his travels with the king, but Jaime found himself feeling oddly proud of the solution of his own making.
Naturally, they had not passed out of sight of the inn before the next trial presented itself: Kyren's ridiculous horse began jostling Jaime's, nipping and biting at the poor gelding until both attempted to stop and fight in earnest. Jaime managed to keep the wagon moving, but it slowed drastically, shuddering oddly from side to side.
"Stop," he ordered, snapping the reins a number of times. "Stop that!"
"Is Sotam biting your horse?" Kyren asked from behind him, apparently attempting to obey his silent instructions and lie flat in the rattling wagon.
"Yes," Jaime replied shortly. "Stop that, you brainless, four-legged beast!"
"He would never behave this way if he knew I was watching," she remarked blandly.
He did not turn to look at her directly, but his shoulders tightened with the effort not to do so. "The healer said you need to rest."
"You and I are both aware that he meant for me to rest by not working or riding intensely, by not overexerting myself. I do not believe he wished for me to sleep for days straight. Besides, Sotam will continue to harass your horse unless he can hear me berating him and I cannot do so if I am lying here pretending to sleep to avoid a lecture."
Jaime finally turned to look back at her after her last statement. "I do not lecture you," he said stiffly. "I simply advise you on how to care for yourself in order to recover fully and quickly. Unless you do not wish to resume our training sessions before we arrive at King's Landing?"
"I most certainly do," the girl rapidly affirmed, "and I have carefully considered your advice, but I would very much like to sit in the front of the wagon." He gave her a skeptical look only slightly lessened by the fact that he was still turned toward the horses, but she added, "I swear upon my honor that I will return to the back of the wagon should I feel even the smallest desire to sleep."
He sighed. "A vow upon your honor is a serious thing, Kyren. Even if you should become a landed knight and gain many riches, your honor is the most valuable possession attached to your name."
"I understand, and I hope you trust that I am being sincere. So may I sit with you until I grow tired?"
With a grumble and another snap of the thin leather reins against her horse's flank, Jaime relented. "Very well, if you can prove your ability to control your willful animal."
She sat up fully, glaring over the back of his bench seat at the stallion. "Sotam," she snapped in as menacing a tone as she could muster. The horse cocked an ear back toward her voice, shook his head, and continued plodding along in pace with Jaime's dun gelding, behaving as though the past few minutes of torment had never occurred.
Kyren clambered over the bench seat, placing herself firmly beside him while he was still attempting to decide whether to laugh or curse in utter frustration, but she flashed him a brilliant smile and asked, "What is the name of your horse?"
It was a diversion, an attempt at distracting him away from any lecture he may have prepared. Jaime knew he should brush it off, toss out any name and continue their ride in silence, but he found himself craving her reaction to the truth. With a sidelong glance, he admitted, "He does not have a name."
The girl did not disappoint. With widened eyes and a horrified gape, she said slowly, "No name? That seems as if it would be inconvenient. How do you call for him?"
"I do not call for him," Jaime answered simply. "I know where he is or I have a servant find him."
"But how do you think of him in your mind? Surely you must associate him with a term other than 'horse'."
"It may come as a shock to you," Jaime drawled, "but not all people feel it necessary to treat their horse as if it is a child."
Kyren stiffened at his retort, glancing away from him and into the forest. It was believable at first, but Jaime knew for a fact that there was nothing of interest in those trees as he was looking at the same view. He reviewed his last statement and could come to no other conclusion than that she had been offended by his teasing of her treatment of the oddly-colored stallion.
Gently, he nudged her shoulder with his own. "In my thoughts, I associate him with Rok."
"Rok?" she asked at length.
"Rok was the most famous horse ridden by the Andals as they first conquered Westeros. It is said that all of the best-bred horses who live have at least a drop of Rok's blood in their veins."
"You are descended from the Andals, are you not?" Kyren finally turned to him once more, pale brown eyes seeming abruptly more distant.
"We both are, more than likely," Jaime mused. "However, I can directly trace my ancestry to the Andals. Most of House Lannister is able to, as well."
"I know," she assured him. "I was informed that your specific part of House Lannister is one of the few with so direct a line, as most of the others chose to intermarry with the First Men."
"And what caused you to take such an interest in House Lannister?" he asked, arching an eyebrow.
Kyren grinned up at him suddenly, seeming more herself than she had since before the accident. "I was told recently that I am woefully under-informed about the Lannister family. I believed it best to learn more before I underwent this journey."
With the tension thoroughly broken, their conversation flowed as both the land and the time flew past. Kyren's witch's eyes were utterly arresting as the caravan passed through dappled patches of sunlight, though Jaime told himself that he searched their depths with such frequency in order to detect whether Kyren was growing weary. No other explanation was worthy of consideration.
From the moment Kyren had met Ser Jaime Lannister - even before she knew him as the infamous Kingslayer - she would hardly have called him a trustworthy man. However, along their journey to King's Landing, she had grown to appreciate his blunt, logical mind and the way he recognized the tactically-advantageous course of action without taking morals into account. This was not to say that he had no morals, for he had a set of personal and uncompromising values, but in their conversations, he had never shied away from voicing an unpleasant opinion.
After she had discovered the knight was in possession of a mind so different from her own, Kyren had taken to seeking out his perspective on various topics. On their second day of riding in the wagon, Ser Jaime had made no attempts whatsoever to convince her to lie down. Instead, she rode beside him and they fell into discussion about many things, last of which was the Unsullied.
"It would be far kinder for a parent to kill their baby than allow it to be trained as a fighter for the Unsullied," Ser Jaime asserted firmly.
"You cannot truly believe that?" Kyren asked, horrified.
"I do," he replied. "The Unsullied are slaves, their entire lives subject to the will of whoever buys them. They will be used to fight wars for causes no one would rally to by choice, they are mutilated so that they will never father children, and they are even stripped of names so that no one may possibly mourne them once they have died. What good could come of living such a life?"
"The fact that it is life," she argued.
"It hardly counts as life at all," he objected. "The Unsullied are broken, destroyed mentally, and trained to the exacting standards of their masters. They then fight unerringly, ceaselessly, and without choice against any enemy at whom their masters point. That is not life."
"The Unsullied are men who breathe, whose hearts beat, who still live. Where there is life, there is hope that life will improve. With death, there is nothing."
"If you had ever seen an army across a battlefield, knowing that your loss would spell either death or slavery, you would pray for the former." He shuddered, the distance in his eyes turning them from sparkling emerald to chips of flat jade. "The nothingness of death pales in comparison with an eternity without freedom, knowing that at the slightest whim of your master, you could be sent into war against your own people, your own family…"
"Rather like being a Kingsguard, I suppose," Kyren said thoughtlessly, never wondering until the words left her mouth if she had gone too far.
Thankfully, Ser Jaime simply shook his head. "I can leave the Kingsguard if necessary. If I feel I cannot adequately protect the king or if I am needed to produce an heir for my House. There is little honor in such a path, but it can be done. The Unsullied have no such option."
Kyren sighed. "I do not claim that I would choose life as a member of the Unsullied over being a free citizen, but I still believe it a fate preferable to death."
Ser Jaime snorted. "Spoken as a free-born girl of Westeros who has never seen slavers marching toward her."
Meeting his gaze steadily, Kyren shook her head. "No, it is spoken as an orphan who has seen the finality of death more closely than is comfortable."
His face softened into something almost warm, but whatever reply Ser Jaime would have made was lost as the caravan pulled to a stop for the day. The Kingsguard tugged on the reins, bringing Sotam and Rok to a smooth halt.
Their wagon was always at the back of the caravan and by the time the wagon stopped, most of the other travelers were already in the process of unloading horses and pitching tents. This day was no exception. Amid the bustle, Ser Jaime caught at Kyren's arm. "Kyren, I-"
"Jaime?" Queen Cersei herself strode regally toward their wagon, one golden eyebrow cocked expectantly. "Pardon my interruption, but I require a word with my brother."
Kyren inclined her head deeply, thankful such a motion no longer caused waves of dizziness to explode through her body. "No pardon is necessary, your grace."
Ser Jaime climbed down from the wagon. "I will return to unload the wagon and build your tent for tonight. Do not attempt to perform either task alone."
Kyren nodded her agreement and watched as the queen and knight strode past the edges of the camp and into the shadows of the surrounding forest. Even before they disappeared from view, the two had fallen into deep conversation.
"Is everything well? Joffrey, Tommen, Myrcella? All are well?" Jaime asked, scarcely able to keep the panic in his voice stifled into an ill-disguised concern.
"Yes, they are perfectly well," Cersei said with a crooked smile. "I only wished to learn what the two of you were discussing so… earnestly."
Jaime's heartbeat pounded thickly in his throat. Cersei never approached him unless it was something of an emergency. She felt - and had told him countless times in the past - that it was far too notable when she sought him out and preferred their meetings occur by more clandestine methods. His mind so focused on such matters, he unthinkingly replied with the unvarnished truth. "The Unsullied."
Cersei's smile wobbled slightly. "The soldiers? What an odd choice of conversation for such a peaceful journey. I hope the girl has no secret desires to join their ranks?"
Jaime's stomach flopped unpleasantly at the thought. If even half the stories of Unsullied training methods were true, death would by far be the better option for Kyren, even if the stubborn girl refused to admit such a thing. "There are no female Unsullied," he replied, far more shortly than he had intended.
The smile dropped from Cersei's face altogether as she furrowed golden eyebrows over speculative green eyes. "I was jesting, Jaime. Of course there are no female Unsullied. Whatever has you so distracted today?"
Running a hand over the roughness of the short stubble on his jaw, Jaime shook his head and smiled apologetically at his twin. "Forgive me, sister. These have been long days and the travel-weariness has me far less intelligent than is typical."
Rather than smile or jest with him in return, Cersei nodded thoughtfully and began moving away, beckoning him to follow. "Yes, that is something I wished to discuss with you."
Winding further through the sparse trees that grew all-too-commonly so close to King's Landing, Cersei seemed to be gathering her thoughts. At length, she began with, "You have no real obligations toward the orphan girl. I do not understand why you are both riding in the wagon. Surely she is well enough to ride, or at least to drive the wagon alone?"
"The girl's injuries are my doing, however inadvertently," Jaime argued. "I wish to be sure she is fully healed before she attempts to ride once more."
"You pushed a child from a window not two months hence," Cersei reminded. "Forgive me if I struggle to credit your concern as fully sincere."
Jaime forced his most wicked smile. "You may not require me to win the orphan to our side any longer, but allowing her condition to worsen would earn the further enmity of Ned Stark. We do not require his trust, but his active dislike would create far more difficulty for our lives."
Cersei slanted emerald eyes at him, lush mouth quirking into an appreciative smile. "There is my clever twin. I do so love when you use your mind for the good of House Lannister."
When the last purring word had left her lips, Cersei tugged him down into a passionate kiss. Jaime lost himself for a few moments in the comfort of her familiar embrace, but she soon pulled away, leaving both to catch their breath in the silence of their section of forest.
"With some extra wine and a short dalliance, I am certain the king will sleep deeply enough for me to come to your tent tonight," she murmured, stroking long fingers through Jaime's golden hair.
A 'dalliance'. It was the term Cersei used to imply sucking off the king, fisting his cock, anything she could do to bring her husband release without being directly affected. Jaime fought back a wave of something close to disgust. How many nights had she come to find him after one of her dalliances, smelling of another man and tasting even worse?
Jaime shook his head, looking as regretful as possible. "It is too much of a risk. My tent will be beside Kyren's, and she sleeps far too lightly for comfort."
Cersei frowned fiercely at that, but Jaime spoke before she could work herself into a true rage. "Only a short while longer, my love, and we will return to King's Landing. No one can stop us there."
Her expression cleared, just as he knew it would. "You are right, Jaime. You are always right. Shall we return to the camp? I am sure the girl misses you by now."
Ser Jaime returned suddenly, the queen stepping away with a graceful nod in Kyren's direction before she strolled off toward the more grandiose tents in the camp. Without looking at her, Ser Jaime muttered something about unhitching the horses and Kyren followed along. As they discovered the night before, Sotam's dislikes included Ser Jaime as well as other horses.
"I know it sounds mad, but I feel my sense of smell is stronger than it was before I fell," Kyren admitted abruptly. It was a bid to fill the silence, to return the strange sense of camaraderie that had blossomed between herself and the knight over the past two days. She prayed silently that he would respond and her heart soared when he sent her a lopsided grin.
"Are you certain you don't mean to say that your smell is stronger? You have not bathed since your injury…" he trailed, pretending to inhale through his nose above her head before pulling a horrid face.
Kyren fought back her responding grin and scowled at him. "Charming," she said caustically. "But I am in earnest! I can smell everything. I know which soldiers have oiled their armor recently, I could tell you where any of the three latrine pits have been dug, and…" she fell into silence, sniffing the air delicately. "I could swear I smell the queen's perfume. She left some time ago, yet I could swear on my honor that I can smell her at this very moment."
In an abrupt flurry of motion, Ser Jaime turned back to the wagon and unbuckled the harnesses. Kyren seized Sotam's bridle immediately to keep the stallion from biting the knight as he dealt with the far more patient Rok. When everything was settled, he said gruffly, "We need to be rid of this wagon. Do you think you'll be able to ride a horse tomorrow?"
Kyren thought that over for a long moment. "I believe so. I have not been dizzy at all today and my appetite has fully returned. But what will we do with the wagon?"
Ser Jaime gave a small half-shrug. "The caravan has no need of another wagon. I will likely sell it. There is a town close to us. If I leave early tomorrow, I can meet up with the caravan before it has traveled far."
"Do you need the money so badly?" Kyren asked, and when he turned to her in mild displeasure, she hastily explained, "No offense intended, Ser Jaime. I only meant that we were given the wagon for nothing. Can we not give it away for the same?"
Ser Jaime shook his head slightly, more to himself than to her, and made a frustrated noise. "If it means so much to you. Remember, however, that you will be required to join me. I need your impertinent horse to help pull the wagon to the town."
"Of course, Ser!" she exclaimed, bounding off on a search for the best spot to pitch her tent. The temporary shelter was half-constructed when Ser Jaime at last appeared to lecture her on working when she was not yet required.
For the first time since her injury, Kyren joined the rest of the caravan for the evening meal. The same food that had tasted so bland before now seemed to have a plethora of flavor compared to the thin porridge and crumbling wafers she had been instructed to eat until she felt her injuries were fully healed.
Kyren chose to sit with the Stark party, the warm welcome she received from Septa Mordane, Arya, and Lord Stark more than enough to compensate for Sansa's cooler reception. In truth, Kyren was rather surprised the older Stark girl had not opted to dine with the queen and her children, but appreciated the feeling of unity with her adopted family regardless of the cause.
Jaime swallowed a yawn as he squinted in the dawn's brightness. He stood on the outskirts of the town so close to where the caravan had camped on the previous night and his patience was growing thin. The horses were unhitched, the wagon waiting to be given to some lucky peasant, but Kyren was reluctant to accept any of the passersby. They had already seen several people rolling over the pink-painted hills to sell goods at the market.
"What about this gentleman?" Jaime asked, exaggerated patience in his voice.
She surveyed the man for a long moment, watching with her parchment-colored eyes as he rode past, snapping his whip at the mule pulling his wagon. She shook her head.
"And why not?" he asked, exasperated.
"He's beaten that mule half to death," she explained and Jaime's entire body became a single nerve of irritation.
"Have you decided that your true aspiration is to be the High Septon rather than a knight?" he snipped childishly, but the girl ignored him, stepping closer to the road as another man approached.
"Excuse me!" she called in a voice as friendly as the smile on her round face.
The man pulled the tied-rope bridle wrapped around the muzzles of his tired-looking donkey team and smiled as his tiny cart - full nearly to spilling with fresh produce - came to rest beside him. "Good mornin', miss! And how do ye find yerself today?"
"Very well, and yourself? I hope the road was easy this morning."
The man shook his head, but his bright smile never wavered. "Matter o' fact, it weren't, but only 'cause this cart o' mine like to fall apart on me! Built it too many years ago, if ye know what I mean."
"I know exactly what you mean!" Kyren said with a laugh. "Interestingly, I was going to talk to you about your wagon. We have this one, you see. It has carried us safely over a great distance, but we have no further use of it. Would you be interested in taking it?"
Scuffing one worn boot in the dirt of the road, the man's smile dropped a bit in brightness, but not in sincerity. "I would love to, miss, but I jes' don't have the gold. Thank ye kindly for the offer."
"Oh, no, you misunderstand!" Kyren insisted. "It was given to us for nothing and we'll take nothing for it. It is your wagon if you should decide you want it."
The man glanced from Kyren to the wagon beside Jaime, then back to his own small cart as his eyes filled with tears. "Thank ye, miss. Blessin's be upon ye both, every blessin' the Seven can bestow."
Jaime winced in sympathy as the man reached out to pull Kyren into an embrace. On the - admittedly rare - occasions upon which Jaime performed services for the common people, he despised when one wanted to thank him with a touch, no matter how friendly. The stench of unwashed bodies, dirt-packed clothes, rotting teeth… It was something from which he fought his way clear at first opportunity, but Kyren seemed not to share his qualms. She embraced and chatted and fielded the man's thanks with humility and charity. She was perfection in the eyes of the vows Jaime himself had taken, and in an uncomfortable flash, he realized that she was already a far better knight than he had ever been - and she was lacking all of the things he had taken for granted.
The realization was enough to prod him to stop the display. "Kyren, we must leave if we are to catch the caravan," he called sharply.
The girl nodded understandingly, wished the man luck once more, and pulled herself astride her impatient beast of a horse. They rode in silence for a time and Jaime found himself nearly hypnotized by the waves of wind moving through the long grasses of a field when Kyren spoke once more.
"How did you become a member of the Kingsguard?"
Jaime's mind flashed through the struggles of gaining his current position: the terrible dread he felt watching Aegon Targaryen's slide into madness, the agony of deciding what course of action to take when faced with the choice of breaking his vows or watching thousands die. As if those memories were not sufficiently painful, his mind also summoned the moment of decision, the shock of Ned Stark's arrival and the realization that Jaime had not been killed, followed by years of countless insults and abuse from those who labeled him 'Kingslayer'. He thought of the same experiences, those same horrors, befalling the girl beside him and felt his stomach twist.
In a voice that was only somewhat unsteady, he commanded, "Tell me that is not your ultimate goal."
Kyren blinked at him, momentarily stunned into silence. When the girl did speak, it was to say, "It would be an honor, to be certain, but I hardly expect to earn the rank of knight, let alone Kingsguard. I was only wondering your story."
Lovely, he grumped in his thoughts. If there was one worse experience than reliving his memories of that particular time, it would be relaying them to the girl. In an attempt to avoid the conversation, Jaime snorted. "You truly believe you will never attain the rank of knight? I know twenty knights who have done less than you to deserve the title."
"That is…" She trailed off, giving an eventual sigh. "Rather disheartening, thank you. I assume that my sex is my major impediment?"
Jaime shook his head. "Your major impediment is that you are not friends with people ill-suited to power, people who would knight any fool who performs a favor."
"I see," Kyren mused slowly, a thoughtful expression on her face. "And what are the names of these powerful, judgment-lacking individuals?"
He frowned at the girl, ready to berate her for the attempted shortcut, but found her eyes twinkling teasingly. Jaime felt his own visage shifting to match hers as he replied, "We are both aware that you could never find pleasure in gaining a position in such a way."
"I believe you are correct," she admitted. "But would it not be wonderful to be a person who could feel secure in such a decision? Life would be far easier."
The smile fell from Jaime's face as he watched Kyren lean forward to murmur encouragement to her horse and pat the grey's neck. He had known her for such a short time, yet he felt as if he truly knew her. "No," he said softly. "Westeros needs people such as you. Those who know that the correct path is rarely easy and hardly ever enjoyable. You are of a rare sort."
Kyren's parchment eyes flashed to him, a startled expression on her face, but he spoke again before she could reply. "We have found the caravan. I must return to the king. Do not overexert yourself. If you should find yourself growing faint, send someone for me and I will return."
She nodded in silence and he rode rapidly away from her side, feeling as if he had revealed an uncomfortable amount of his soul.
Author's Note - I know what you're thinking: this is a super late chapter compared to the original estimation on my profile. I agree, but it does happen occasionally, which is why I let the reviewers of the previous chapter know if there's going to be a delay. (Special thanks and apologies to TheUnknownBookLady, whose review caught me off-guard and I forgot to respond in the process of cranking this chapter out. Expect a message of thanks from me shortly!) This is officially the longest chapter to date, so maybe that will help apologize?
Anyway, hope you enjoyed! Drop some feedback if you can? I'll try to get the next chapter published in less than a week and I hope you have a wonderful day!