The Worth of Ash

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Game of Thrones or any related title, character, plot, setting, etc. These rights are the sole property of 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 Twenty-Seven

Kyren led Sotam through the streets of King's Landing, staring around with distaste. It was a disappointment to be back in the city, but she was determined to continue the search for Arya. As she had little success in Essos, Kyren had decided on a different approach altogether: she intended to undertake a thorough search of the boneyards outside of King's Landing, searching for a skeleton matching Arya's height and build. If she did not find one, she would continue her search north once more. If she never returned to the capital city, she would be thrilled.

Leaving Essos had proven to be challenging. She had traveled south to Volantis before being waylaid by a raging infection from the cut on her neck. The healers of Volantis were of the opinion that the cut had been contaminated by the waters of the Rhoyne. The infection had ravaged her body for nearly a fortnight and the healers had wondered on more than one occasion if she would survive. When they had finally given her clearance to leave, Kyren had formulated a plan.

With no time to wait for the Yangilash, Kyren had opted to cut her hair short - using diluted ink to tint it to a dull grey-brown - and bind her chest in order to look like a boy. With her hair scarcely reaching her chin, enough dangled in her face to obscure her eyes from the casual observer. Her lanky limbs, casual menace, and the exposed scar on her neck kept Kyren from being accosted on her voyage back to Westeros. She had worked to provide passage for herself and Sotam and left none the wiser to her true gender.

As eager as she was to begin the search for Arya, Kyren knew she needed a place to stay and keep Sotam safe. Much as she loved the stallion, he was highly recognizable and the risks of keeping him with her was too great. It would appear that she must call on her old friends once more.

Picking through the winding streets was done quickly, performed with the skill of much practice, and Kyren arrived at Dyser's with little attention. Sotam was placed in his typical spot in the stables of Shana's neighbor and Kyren entered the tavern with the intent of alerting the Dysers to her presence. If she moved quickly, she could begin her search of the boneyards today, despite her weariness from the long voyage.

The cool, deserted interior of the tavern was like a balm to Kyren's soul and she took a deep breath to soak it in.

"My apologies, lad. I fear we have not opened for the day. You can return later, though you do seem a bit young for the taverns…"

Kyren waited patiently for Tarik to turn towards her fully before pushing the hair back from her face. The resulting expression made her laugh for the first time since leaving Braavos and he crossed the room quickly to reach her. Without pausing for even a moment, he wrapped her in an embrace so tight she was left gasping for air.

"I never believed I would see you again," Tarik murmured more into her hair than her ear, but Kyren did not mind. Instead, she simply hummed in response and allowed her arms to curl around his back.

When he at last pulled back from her, both sets of hands trailed over shoulders and through hair, breaking apart slowly as candied fruit in the sun. Tarik crossed his arms over his chest and Kyren blushed to see that he subtly continued to rub his fingers together as though he could still feel her hair between them. "Where have you been?"

Kyren shrugged. For Arya's sake, she could not go into great detail, but she felt that Tarik deserved some sort of explanation. "I traveled to Essos and had a bit of trouble before I left. Unfortunately, there was no hint of what I needed to find."

"A bit of trouble?" Tarik asked, staring at her skeptically. Feeling oddly fidgety under his gaze, Kyren tucked a strand of her artificially darkened hair behind an ear and attempted to look anywhere else in the room. He moved forward once more, lifting the locks away from her neck to stare at her new scar.

Just as Kyren was ready to jerk away from his scrutiny, Tarik's hands traveled upward. One hand snaked into her hair as the other caressed her jaw and he was suddenly, passionately, kissing her. She stiffened for a moment before sinking into him, meeting his every movement with one of her own. Their lips slowed and Tarik pulled back, seeming suddenly sheepish.

"I may not be a maester, but I know that scar was serious. If that was 'a bit of trouble', I shudder to think of all else that has happened. You may not have considered your adventures dangerous, but you could easily have died and I never would have known your fate."

Tarik's normally-bold blue eyes avoided Kyren's, but she hardly noticed. Instead, the same realization hit her abruptly, and her mind's eye replayed the sight of Eyva's throat opening beneath her chin… but now, it was Kyren's throat and she was dead in a river far from her homeland and everyone she loved.

When she returned to herself, Kyren found Tarik watching her with concern on his face. He opened his mouth - likely to ask if she was well - but Kyren grasped his tunic and met his mouth with hers. The spark of passion that had been present in their previous kiss was replicated and expanded until it was a roaring fire, engulfing them both in unimaginable heat.

Though it nearly killed her, Kyren placed a hand on Tarik's chest and pushed him away - but only far enough to pull their lips apart, no more. Tarik stared down at her with eyes still burning from their embrace and Kyren gathered all her wits to say, "If we continue, you must know that there will never be anything further between us. I will not marry you, nor will I promise to stay. We are not courting or promised. I must have your understanding in this matter."

A bit of the excitement fled from Tarik's face, but he nodded nonetheless. "If I can have you for only a short while, I want as much of you as you will allow."

Kyren smiled, for once deciding to allow the future to be its own concern, and pulled him toward her once more.


Straightening slowly, Kyren allowed the muscles of her back to ease into the stretch. She was sore from long hours squatting and bending to study skeletons of those who had been left to the elements. She had been searching the boneyards for most sunlit hours since her arrival at King's Landing and the horrors never ceased. Fighting a shiver at the feel of sweat trickling down her spine and through her hair, Kyren closed her eyes against the sun and allowed her mind to drift to more pleasant things.

Her life had become a mostly-pleasant blur of days. Nearly every day was spent picking through the boneyards. She had mapped the land and divided it into sections so it could be more thoroughly searched - though admittedly, she was relying on the idea that the Lannister forces would not have bothered to bury Arya.

In the evenings, Kyren retreated to Dyser's, often sharing a meal with Tarik in the kitchens. She never ate as heartily as she had before and she could see it worried him, but days spent in the blazing sun left her unable to stomach more than fruit, water, and bread. They then entered the tavern's main room. It was common for Kyren to take a seat tucked in a dark corner, enjoying the boisterous crowds and removing a rowdy patron or two for sake of sentimentality.

Her nights were largely spent in Tarik's bed. They never exchanged more than a few sentences before falling asleep. Tarik knew better than to make overtures to her as Kyren needed the catharsis of sleep before she could purge herself of the things she saw each day. However, it was not uncommon for the two to wake each other in the dark hours of the morning for more pleasant activities.

A shadow falling across her face prompted Kyren to open her eyes once more. Thick, menacing clouds were rolling between the sun and the hard-baked dirt. With a practiced eye, Kyren estimated that rains would come soon, and were likely to last until after the sun had set. Resigning herself to a half-day lost, she examined a final skeleton, that of yet another child. It was not Arya's. Far too young. Seized with a surge of grief for the unknown youth, Kyren marked off the cleared section of land on her map and started back toward Dyser's.

She was still several minutes walk from the tavern when the skies opened, pouring fat drops of rain over every inch of King's Landing. Kyren gave a joyous laugh at the idea that she could skip her daily bath to wash the dirt of the boneyards from her skin, though she would likely still use the routine pitcher of water to rinse the sweat from her hair.

Dyser's was empty when she strolled inside, as was typical for the tavern before nightfall, but it was not quite silent. Kyren crossed the room toward the kitchen, smiling as she heard Tarik's familiar voice, but stopped short when she heard the heaviness in Bellin's tone. Instead of pushing through the kitchen door as she typically would, Kyren remained just outside, standing in a puddle growing with every drip from her clothing and hair.

"The little lord fares poorly, I'm afraid. He's starved for company, but few visit… Not that his sister would allow him the pleasure of company."

"Does no one speak in his defense?" Tarik asked.

"It seems not. His brother attempted to bargain with Lord Tywin and arranged for the Imp to be sent to the Night's Watch, but he spoke out in court. He demanded a trial by combat."

"Truly? When did this happen?"

"Several days ago. The combat is to happen in two days time."

Tarik swore. "And who represents Tyrion?"

"None know. His brother is missing his sword hand and the chambermaids tell me that the queen has offered Ser Bronn of the Blackwater a handsome prize to dissuade him from offering his services."

A pause came then, and Kyren leaned closer to the door. "This happened days ago? Why did you not tell me sooner?"

Bellin sounded offended then. "It is no one's fault but your own! You insist that no news of the trial is to be discussed when Kyren is here and you spend your waking hours either working or in her company. When should I have told you?"

"It is a fair point," Tarik conceded, voice grudging. "And the rule still stands. Not a word of this around Kyren. She is not to know a thing."

Feeling rather sick, Kyren retreated up to the attic in order to parse through what she had heard, carefully wiping the puddle from the floor before she went. She remained in the attic even after she heard the typical patrons make their rowdy entrance into the tavern, toying with the idea of leaving for the Red Keep without alerting any to her plans. However, she decided that it would be a foolish idea. Perhaps Tarik had his reasons, ones she had not considered.

Instead, she donned the ill-fitting handmaid's dress and a hooded cape before going to Tarik's room. It was empty, Tarik likely still downstairs in the tavern, but she sat to wait. It would not do to arrive at the Red Keep when many were still walking the halls.

Just after midnight, Tarik pushed his way into the room, serious face breaking into a smile as he saw her. "Kyren!" he greeted happily. "I was beginning to worry…"

His voice trailed into silence as his gaze drifted down her form, expression turning solemn once more as his recognition grew. "You cannot do this. Tell me you do not intend to go to the Red Keep."

"Tell me why you chose to keep information from me," Kyren returned evenly.

Tarik sighed, closing the door behind him before sitting beside her on the bed. "Tyrion is a Lannister and you have aligned yourself with the Starks. Why would you care what happens to him?"

"Tell me the truth," Kyren demanded. "You must have known I would have an interest or you would not have ordered everyone to remain silent in my presence."

"Kyren, you are weary from searching the boneyards, staring death in the face each day. I did not wish you to be troubled by the troubles of a royal dwarf you hardly know," he offered, his patronizing tone making Kyren's teeth grit.

"If you are willing to keep information from me, information which may have an impact on my reason for remaining here, how can I trust you with anything?"

"Very well!" Tarik snapped, voice sharp. "I did not wish for you to know about the trial because I knew you would attempt to rush off and save Tyrion Lannister. You have a weakness for heroism and it will end with you dead and the Seven Kingdoms worse off than they were before." Kyren sat, stunned and hurt by the accusation, as well as the lack of faith he had in her. Tarik took her hand in his, voice softening. "Kyren, stay with me. Stay here, stay safe. You do not need to save a Lannister. You do not need to save everyone."

Kyren stood, pulling her hand from his grip. It shook with anger, same as the rest of her. "If you believe that I am capable of standing by while an innocent man is put to death, you do not know me in the slightest."

"An innocent man?" Tarik repeated with a cruel laugh that Kyren did not recognize. "The Seven Kingdoms cannot decide whether he is innocent or guilty, but you know for certain. On what basis was your decision made? That you've had a conversation with him? Do you even know what he stands accused of doing?"

"As it happens, I do not," Kyren admitted, all humility in the statement stolen by the haughty lift of her chin.

"Killing King Joffrey. The king died at his own wedding after drinking poisoned wine. The Imp had more cause than most to hate the king. Still so certain of his innocence?"

Kyren stared at him for a long moment before throwing her head back in laughter. "Joffrey? From all I heard of his rule, the killer should be rewarded, not put to trial!"

Tarik's face contorted into an expression of savage victory. "Ah, so we have finally discovered a Lannister you do not love."

Kyren's joy disappeared with the thought of Cersei's cold green eyes. "There are several Lannisters I do not love."

"So you mean to say you have not fallen under the spell of Ser Jaime, the golden lion, in the same way every other female in the kingdom has?"

"Mind yourself, Tarik. You begin to sound jealous."

"And you begin to sound defensive."

Kyren fought back a blush. Tarik did not deserve to know of her past with Jaime Lannister, even if the knight had only been attempting to use her for his own gain. Instead, she simply said, "If you will excuse me, I have places to be."

"Wait, Kyren," Tarik begged, desperation suddenly appearing in his voice. "This argument is inane, but you must admit my point is valid. Please do not place yourself in danger for someone who would not do the same for you. I do not wish to see you hurt. I care for you."

"You do not care for me," Kyren responded. Hurt filled Tarik's blue eyes and she expanded, "You care for who you believe I could become under the correct circumstances."

Tarik began to make his denials, but Kyren felt the truth of her statement ringing through her being and could see it resounding in him as well. "Farewell, Tarik."


"Here you go," Bronn said nonchalantly, stopping by an unremarkable door in the dungeons. It had been pure luck that she stumbled across him before she could get caught by anyone else. Bronn - for all his claims of simplicity - instantly surmised the reason for her presence and offered to bring her to Tyrion and escort her out of the Red Keep when she was done. To her own shock as much as his, Kyren had accepted without hesitation.

Tugging the hood of her cape more fully over her face, Kyren slipped into the dungeon. It took only a moment to search out Tyrion. He was huddled into a figure even smaller than usual, sitting square in the middle of the chamber's meager light. Kyren's heart twisted. It was obvious that captivity did not agree with the boisterous man.

In the time it took for her to study him, Tyrion had become aware of her gaze. His head swiveled to the door, face shuttered yet still conveying a sense of desperation. When he saw only the strange hooded figure, his eyes traveled down her form, focusing on her skirts.

"Have they sent a whore to me, then? Dangerous occupation, that. My father will likely believe you to be tainted by lying with a dwarf…" She made no response and his tone took on an edge. "Well? Come to me. There is little to be gained by standing in the shadows."

Kyren stepped toward him, lowering the cape's hood as she did. Tyrion stared at her for a moment before recognition took over his expression. "Kyren Asheworth. I had not expected to see you, especially with such an… off-putting hairstyle. Am I to assume that you are not here to service me?"

Smiling despite herself at his dry question, Kyren shook her head. "I should think not, my lord."

Tyrion smiled back for a moment before the happiness flitted from his face. "But why are you here? This is a dangerous place at the moment, and my company is more dangerous than most. Even if she no longer needs a captive to intimidate the Starks, Cersei would delight in tormenting you if you are caught in my company."

"I cannot stay long, I agree..." Kyren cocked her head to the side. "Why does the queen not need to intimidate the Starks?"

The lines in his forehead deepening, Tyrion frowned up at her. "Have you been away from King's Landing for some time?"

"Yes, I have," Kyren answered impatiently. "Has something happened?"

"Yes, but I would have you told by someone who can comfort you. Someone not covered in his own filth."

"Just tell me," Kyren asked. "Please."

"Very well," Tyrion said with a sigh, voice gentling until Kyren could hardly hear it over the thundering of her own pulse. "Robb Stark - along with many of his most trusted bannermen - was killed a short time ago."

Kyren's throat closed. Visions of Robb danced behind her eyes, auburn hair dyed scarlet with his own blood. "Robb?"

"Robb, his wife, and-" Tyrion shook his head.

"And?"

"And their unborn child," he said softly. "Catelyn Stark was also in attendance."

Kyren gripped her elbows so hard that her knuckles paled, pacing around the small room until she could breathe once more. "So the Stark armies are gone."

"The Northern rebellion is gone," Tyrion corrected. "As are the Starks."

Whipping to face him, Kyren asked, "The Starks are gone?"

Tyrion nodded. "Ned Stark, as you know, was beheaded by my sweet nephew. Catelyn and Robb Stark were killed at the Twins by the Frey forces. Arya Stark has not been seen or heard from since the death of her father and is presumed dead. Bran and Rickon Stark were reported dead when Theon Greyjoy took Winterfell."

"And Sansa?" Kyren asked tightly. "Sansa, who you promised to protect?"

"I did protect her," Tyrion insisted, seeming more tired than before. "As well as I could. However, my father, my sister, and my dearly-departed nephew strong-armed her into marriage."

"Marriage? Sansa is married? To whom?"

"Me," he said heavily.

"You? But- you have not-"

"No, I have not. I told her that I would not touch her until she was ready." He shrugged. "She was never ready."

"If you are locked in here, where is she?"

"That is the question plaguing the royal court," Tyrion said with a ruthless laugh. "She disappeared in the chaos following Joffrey's death and no one can divine where she went."

"And now you are to be tried for your nephew's death," Kyren summarized.

"Yes."

"Did you kill him?"

"No, did you?"

Kyren smirked. "I should think not, as I've only just returned from Essos."

"Essos? Why were you- We are straying from the subject. I have been tried for Joffrey's death, and I managed to talk my way into a trial by combat in which I have no one to represent me. Clearly, my cleverness is beyond reason."

"Your trial is why I am here. I wish to volunteer my services to fight on your behalf."

Tyrion stared at her for a long moment. "Are you the only person in all of Westeros who has not heard of my sister's choice of representation?"

"The Mountain, yes?" Kyren asked with a nonchalance she did not feel. The Mountain was known for his cruelty, strength, and prowess in battle. She had heard conversations throughout the Red Keep about Cersei's champion and was dismayed, but it did little to erase her reasons.

"Yes. So unless you spent your time in Essos learning to battle giants, I do not believe it wise for you to represent me."

"I never learned to battle giants, but I did hone my fighting abilities," Kyren offered.

Tyrion shook his head. "It would be suicide. I cannot allow you to do such a thing."

"If you are innocent, the gods will help me to win against the Mountain." Tyrion appeared unconvinced, and Kyren unclenched her hands as she approached Tyrion directly, allowing him to see the sincerity on her face. "More importantly, I cannot allow you to die for a crime you did not commit. Even I never saw you again, I would not have believed you capable of killing Joffrey. He was terrible, but he was your nephew."

"I thank you for the offer, but I must decline," Tyrion said with a smile.

"I do not understand," Kyren said, frustratedly. "If you have no representation, you will face the Mountain yourself in a fight to the dead. Even if I am not successful as your champion, you will be hanged, or beheaded, or shot with a crossbow - I am uncertain what methods of execution are used in King's Landing. I did miss the last one, you know." Tyrion smiled again and Kyren felt lighter seeing the expression on his scarred face. "But you would be awarded a dignified death. I am certain the Mountain would offer you no such thing."

Tyrion sighed. "I truly appreciate your offer, Kyren, but I will not accept. If it helps, I will decline for a selfish reason: my sister may not need you to intimidate the Starks, but she holds a grudge. I am certain that she would delight in making you suffer. If you appeared on my behalf, she would likely arrest you immediately, leaving me without a champion regardless."

Kyren shook her head, knowing that she had been bested by Tyrion Lannister's wit. A sound came from outside the chamber and they both turned to look, glancing at each other when no further noise was heard. Though no words passed between them, both knew that it was time for her to leave.

Sinking slightly, Kyren reached out to draw Tyrion into a tight embrace, one he readily accepted and returned. Her chin resting on his crooked shoulder, Kyren whispered, "Take care, Tyrion. I pray you find the champion you need."

A low, dry chuckle came from him as his arms tightened and released. "I hope for the same. Now, get out before someone finds you."

With a final wavering smile, Kyren tapped on the door and slipped out when Bronn opened it.

"Ready to go?" he asked, for all the world like they were not both risking their lives.

"I must see Tyrion Lannister. It is urgent."

Bronn turned sharply to look at the owner of the unfamiliar voice, but Kyren remained where she was, huddled in the shadows of her cloak and praying that he would not see her face. She did not know the man, but there was little cause to risk being sighted in the Red Keep, even by a stranger.

"Oberyn Martell, yeah?" Bronn asked.

"Yes. It is urgent," the man insisted, prompting Bronn.

The sellsword glanced over at Kyren briefly before putting on a falsely jovial tone. "Go on ahead, love. I'll follow in a bit."

Kyren nodded, only glancing up to catch Bronn's gaze for a moment before retreating down the hallway in the direction they had come.


He was tired. It had been a long night of guarding Tommen's door, especially as his son had no subtlety where his beautiful betrothed was concerned. Thankfully, they appeared to restrain themselves to speaking rather than more physical behaviors, but Jaime was still uncomfortable at the reminder that Tommen would soon be wed and attempting to put heirs into his wife.

Jaime should have been pleased overall. He seemed to be approaching a reconciliation with Cersei and liked to think it was due to his ever-growing prowess with left-handed sword fighting, but could not dispel the lingering suspicion that it had more to do with Tyrion's impending battle and likely execution. Jaime's affection for their younger brother had often left the twins at odds during their shared childhood and he did not expect that anything had changed. He did not wish to see his younger brother die, but Cersei would not care in the slightest. She had never grown to appreciate his wit, his sharp tongue, his exceeding cleverness. Instead, she insisted upon hating him for taking their mother away, an accident of fate Jaime had long since forgiven.

He turned a corner, finding himself in sudden company as a girl in a cape and a serving dress hurried along ahead of him. He paused for only a moment to wonder why a serving girl was wandering the halls of the Red Keep at such a late hour before remembering Cersei's most common complaint of late: with the approach of winter, many vineyards were suffering and wine was becoming more difficult to come by. Cersei had mentioned more than once over the past few days how she struggled to keep a full decanter.

"You, maid!" he called.

The girl stiffened visibly but made no move to turn or approach him. Jaime, temper piqued, snapped, "Come, maid. I have a task which requires your attention."

Slowly, infuriatingly so, the female made her way down the hall and toward him. She stood further away than was normal, but Jaime felt no particular urge to explain to a serving girl how her job was to be performed.

"The queen requires wine to be brought to her private chambers. Ensure you bring enough to fill her decanter as well as extra to keep in the room. Find a guard or a serving boy to help if you wish. I care little how it is done, but the queen is to have more wine in her chambers tonight. Am I understood?"

The girl nodded, face still obscured by the darkness of her cloak's hood and the strands of dark hair straggling out from beneath it.

"Why do you wear a cloak indoors?" Jaime asked sharply.

The girl's voice, when it came, was high-pitched and faltering. "I have- I have just come from the stables, Ser."

The trembling in the hands she clasped so tightly before her was enough to convince Jaime of her frightened sincerity. She was likely new to the Red Keep, new to being approached by knights - especially one of his importance.

"Very well. Do not forget what I have asked of you," he ordered, smiling in an effort to turn her fear into awe and admiration, the same as it did for many of the women he encountered.

She nodded once more, bowing slightly and retreated, footsteps light against the stone. "Girl!" he called after her, an edge having returned to his tone. She paused, obediently looking back to him. "The wine cellar and the queen's chambers are in the opposite direction."

The girl bowed once more before hurrying toward and past him. Jaime watched her progress through narrowed eyes. There was something familiar in the way she moved and the cadence of her voice, but he could not place it. When the girl had disappeared and the feeling had yet to do so, he covered his apprehension by sighing aloud, "These servants grow more useless by the day."


Author's Note - Hello again! It's been a while! Honestly, this chapter was supposed to have a lot more Jaime in it, but I got upset with him after a certain a decision of his a few episodes back. No spoilers just in case anyone isn't caught up yet! I will go ahead and say that I will be diverging heavily from canon during the events of season eight, so be warned now.

Special thanks to lokidoki9, tvdspnlover, and HellToTheNo123 for their reviews! Additional thanks to all of those who have added this story to their follows and faves!

Well, I wanted to publish one last chapter before the premiere of the series finale. In case any of you stop reading after things wrap up, I just want to thank you for reading this story. It's meant a lot. Good luck this weekend and may your favorite surviving character make it out!