The Worth of Ash
Disclaimer: I own no rights to Game of Thrones or any related titles, characters, plots, settings, etc. These rights belong exclusively 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 make me no money.
Chapter One
Kyren blinked rapidly in a rather futile attempt to keep her attention from wandering. Septa Mordane was speaking quickly, her voice nearing panic, yet Kyren continued to struggle to remain awake. It was so dull.
"Whenever a person of higher rank rises from his seat for any reason, you must remember to rise as well," the older woman was currently lecturing. "You may only use your fingers for choosing fruit or tarts; otherwise, it is utensils at all times. And do not allow your elbows to even brush the tablecloths!"
The last reminder had been mildly insulting the first time it was offered. Now that it had been repeated thrice more, Kyren was beginning to wonder if the Septa believed her utterly inept in a social situation. Even Sansa was listening with an air of slight impatience and Arya had long since given in to sleep.
Finally, Sansa interrupted Septa Mordane. "We have already learned about dining at a formal feast," she reminded. "Why are we being made to relearn everything?"
The Septa glanced at Kyren, and the younger woman was fascinated to note an air of apology in her eyes. "Kyren does not take part in our lessons, Sansa. Lady Stark has asked me to ensure she knows the necessary graces and we believe the reminder would benefit you girls as well."
"Kyren chooses not to take part in our lessons," Sansa replied harshly. "Why should she reap the benefits when she elected to spend time with the boys instead?"
Kyren wouldn't have spoken in her own defense - finding it far easier to avoid all types of confrontation with the fussy daughter of her benefactor - but Septa Mordane spoke in her favor once more. "Sansa, you know that Kyren is an orphan. She has little chance of marriage to a high-born man and is unlikely to need the skills I teach to you girls. Kyren is far better served by attending Maester Luwin and learning from Ser Rodrik."
The explanation was logical enough to sway Sansa's sense of reason and flattering enough about the Stark girl's marriage prospects to soothe her ego, and her feathers visibly smoothed. In contrast, Arya - having now awakened from her sleep - was malcontented. "I wish I could be trained by Ser Rodrik instead of learning how to be a proper lady."
"Arya," Septa Mordane sighed, but she needed say no more and the condensed etiquette lesson continued. "Let us move onto the subject of napkins…"
Several hours later, the lesson had ended and Kyren was being laced into the new dress she had received for King Robert's arrival to Winterfell. It was very pretty: a dark shade of purple trimmed with light brown fur. As the servants leave Kyren to finish readying herself, she reflected that it was a wise choice from all angles and suspected that Lady Catelyn must have decided the details. The dress's rich hue and trim denoted her as a person of importance while not detracting from the attention Sansa would likely receive dressed, as she would be, in pale blue.
On the few occasions Kyren had ventured away from Winterfell - almost exclusively to accompany Maester Luwin on a search for some rare ingredient or another - Kyren had found that she was generally excluded from acceptance. In Winterfell, the kind few who noticed the orphan commented that Kyren was fated to be there, possessing hair of Lady Stark's own shade and 'the eyes of the wolf'. In other places, she was mocked or avoided because of her 'wildling hair and witch's eyes'. Indeed, red hair was more common north of the Wall and Kyren's eyes were a shade of brown so pale that it was almost easier to call them colorless than admit they shared a hue with fine parchment, but Kyren avoided both facts as though they were stinging nettles.
She would tell anyone who asked (and several who had not) that the Asheworths were a proud, long-historied family who had helped construct the Wall so long ago. Her hair was attributed to sheer chance and she stubbornly insisted that her eyes were 'simply brown'. Besides, Kyren knew she had no reason to be proud of her appearance. Her skin was Northern pale and allowed the flush of her cheeks to show when she was angry or embarrassed or had been working hard. Her limbs were far too heavily-muscled to be considered graceful, and the thick muscles of her torso defied all efforts of a corset, giving her an unpleasantly boxy appearance in gowns. Even her face was wide and shallow, and on the few occasions she had glimpsed herself in a mirror, Kyren privately believed her nose to sit slightly askew.
Of course, her appearance did not matter one whit. Kyren could be the most beautiful woman in Westeros and she would still be a spinster. At sixteen namedays, she still had yet to experience her womanly courses and thus was considered ill-suited to marriage. In his lovely, kind-hearted, well-meaning way, Maester Luwin had informed Kyren that she was likely unable to bear children. And, as she understood, even if her courses began the very next day, Kyren would be forced to marry unpleasantly. Either she would have a much older husband - one whose wife had passed away - or one far younger than herself who had not been promised yet. In either case, Kyren was nearly guaranteed to be miserable and so she chose to dedicate her life to something useful: the protection of Westeros.
When Kyren had come to Winterfell, she had a basic understanding of the womanly arts and a lack of understanding toward anything else. Maester Luwin had offered to teach her to read between performing his other duties and had discovered - quite by accident - that Kyren learned quickly, especially in subjects she found interesting. By the time she had learned to read, Kyren had learned so much about medicine and healing from the Maester that he had gone to Lord Stark to request she stay on as a sort of apprentice.
It was a testament to Ned Stark's generosity and caring that he consulted Kyren on what she wanted before he gave a final answer, and thus she now split her days between attending Maester Luwin and being trained by Ser Rodrik Cassel. As expected, this gave her limited contact with the female Starks, but Kyren was familiar enough with Lady Catelyn to call her by her given name and to recognize her subtle and well-meaning machinations.
Lady Catelyn was fiercely defensive of her own family, putting their needs above those of any other person; though, to be fair, Kyren was considered something of a member of the family. She ranked below any blood relative save Jon Snow, but flattered herself that she was better-liked by the Stark matriarch than Theon Greyjoy or any of the servants, though her combat training made Kyren a bit of a mystery to the woman.
Naturally, at this juncture, it was Lady Catelyn's priority to ensure Sansa was on full display and that meant hiding Kyren somewhat. In a twisted sort of irony, Kyren was often mistaken for Sansa at first glance. Though shorter and far less graceful, Kyren shared the exact shade of Lady Catelyn's hair as compared to Sansa's more vibrant color. However, after the true relation had been pointed out to those mistaken individual in the past, parties tended to comment on Sansa's blue Tully eyes - an exact match to Catelyn's own.
Pulled from her own introspection by a frantic female servant, Kyren rushed down to the courtyard of Winterfell for the arrival of King Robert's caravan. His party had been sighted in the distance, but a royal caravan could move quite slowly and the Stark household had abundant time to rehearse how they were to stand. The blood Starks were to stand at the front, with Jon Snow, Theon Greyjoy, Kyren, Maester Luwin, Septa Mordane, and Ser Rodrik and his son Jory Cassel just behind.
Lady Catelyn took the time before the king's arrival to pull Kyren, Jon, and Theon aside. "You will all attend tonight's feast, seated at a table with the Septa, Maester, Ser Rodrik, and Jory. Understood?"
All nodded. The steely determination in her blue eyes spoke of immense pressure from the king's visit and none dared speak against her. Lady Catelyn brushed a smudge of dust from Theon's shoulder, tucked a strand of Kyren's hair back into the braided style in which it had been bound, and returned to her place by Lord Stark's side.
Apparently feeling emboldened by the increased distance between Lady Catelyn and himself, Theon turned to Jon and Kyren. "Stuck at a table with the servants?"
Jon studied the Ironborn boy with solemn eyes. "Beloved servants, ones the Starks depend upon highly. There is no dishonor in it."
Theon scoffed. "But servants nonetheless. We are far more important than them. You are a blood relative of Ned Stark and I am his ward, as is Kyren."
Blinking at the sudden attention in her direction, Kyren smiled slightly. "I must admit I am surprised we are allowed at all. I expected to be on guard post. Is that not what Ser Rodrik has been threatening over the past fortnight?"
At last a smile broke across Jon's serious face. "I am surprised as well. I would have wagered on our being told to make ourselves scarce."
"You both expect far too little," Theon grumbled dismissively.
"Or you expect too much," Jon pointed out.
"The king approaches!" a guard shouted from one of Winterfell's towers and everyone scrambled back into place. There was a small gap where Arya was apparently missing, but she showed up just before the king rode through the gates. Ned pulled a helmet from her head as she ran by and passed it smoothly backward to Ser Rodrik.
The royal family began to filter through the gates of Winterfell, filling the expansive courtyard with the clatter of men wearing armor while riding trotting horses. Kyren watched the process with interest, noting that the men halted their horses in specific locations around the grounds before waiting. A young man with golden hair rode toward the front of the party and was at his spot after only a few of the guards. He made use of the additional time by staring at Sansa, noting her pretty face and returned interest with a half smirk. Robb looked disgruntled by the attention his younger sister was attracting and Jon and Theon wore matching expressions behind him.
Kyren was fascinated by the large number of guards the king had designated to accompany the party. There were a handful before the blond boy she could only guess was Prince Joffrey, several more surrounding the caravan that most probably held the queen and the younger two children, and finally, a flood of white-caped Kingsguard before the man who could only be King Robert Baratheon.
As he trotted into the courtyard atop a magnificent black mare, the entire collection of Winterfell's residents dropped to one knee in reverence. Kyren didn't dare lift her eyes to study the king until everyone else stood, and by that point, she was blocked by Robb's broad shoulders. King Robert stood before Ned Stark, looked him up and down, and proclaimed bluntly, "You've got fat."
Kyren bristled, but Jon bumped her gently with his shoulder and shook his head in the slightest of movements. In the exchange, she missed what happened, but the tension had been broken and the people were laughing. The king moved down the line of Starks, greeting each one with a comment or question. He seemed to be quite a likeable man and it was obvious Robert Baratheon and Ned Stark had been friends long before they became King Robert and Lord Stark. The realization calmed Kyren's protective instincts where her adoptive family was concerned.
Her attention was captured by the approach of an icy blonde woman bearing a striking resemblance to the prince. She strode up to Lord Stark and extended a hand with a perfunctory smile. He took it and bowed stiffly to kiss the back of it. "My queen."
Lady Catelyn swept into a deep curtsy as she repeated, "My queen."
Kyren studied the queen. The woman's smile toward Ned Stark could have been misinterpreted by Kyren's still-defensive mind, or the weariness from the queen's long journey could have led to a smile lacking in genuine feeling. There was no real reason for her to doubt the woman's sincerity, but Kyren saw the flash of anger on the queen's face when King Robert insisted on paying his respects in the crypt straightaway and fought back a shiver that had nothing to do with the wind.
In any case, King Robert and Lord Stark - discreetly followed by a member of the Kingsguard - made their way to the crypt while everyone else milled about. The queen made her way back toward the children and yet another member of the Kingsguard while the people of Winterfell dispersed.
"Kyren!"
Kyren turned around and greeted in return, "Arya!"
"Can you believe all the guards? And the armor? Did you see the man with the dog helmet? And how about the-"
Laughing, Kyren interrupted the excited girl. "I saw everything, I promise! I saw your helmet, too." Arya blushed, but Kyren dropped her voice into a conspiratorial tone. "I liked it very much. Quite fetching. Wherever did you find it?"
Arya smiled broadly. "Outside the castle walls! There was a man wearing it, but he was asleep and it fell from his head, so I took it." She frowned slightly. "Ser Rodrik has it now, I suppose."
Kyren sighed. "You know how well Ser Rodrik and I get along…"
"You don't," the younger girl replied with that blunt lack of tact common in children her age.
"-But I may be able to retrieve the helmet for you," she finished.
"Would you?" Arya asked, voice full of hope.
"Of course I would," Kyren told her. "The only question is if I can. Give me some time and I will see what I can find."
Arya grinned up at her before dashing off through the courtyard, weaving adeptly through the thickest parts of the crowd without slowing. Kyren shook her head in admiration before Lady Catelyn approached.
"Kyren, you may wish to return to your chambers. I sent a servant to fetch a basin of water for you to freshen yourself and then the feast will be beginning."
"Of course, Lady Catelyn," Kyren replied, inclining her head deeply.
"We must show these Southerners that Northern hospitality is not something to be mocked," she asserted, stepping closer to Kyren so they would not be overheard.
"Yes, my lady," Kyren said obediently, bowing slightly before retreating to her chambers.
Author's Note - I know, I know. Lots of exposition in this one. I promise, Jaime will be in the next! Kyren is most definitely the main character of this particular story, and I want you to get the chance to know her before there are any... ahem, distractions. Also, I assume you're reading this story because you're familiar with Game of Thrones. I truly despise fics that simply write out the action that took place in an episode rather than giving original content, so - to the best of my abilities - I will attempt to steer clear of explaining the action that you already know. That being said, I did rather a lot of plotting for this story and I have a chart listing which chapters correspond to which episodes of the show, so shoot me a message if you get curious about what's happening elsewhere in Westeros at any particular time!
Thank you for reading this second installment! I would love to hear what you think. I'll be responding to all reviews by private message, so let me know how it's reading so far (or if you see any mistakes, want to complain, tell me the characterization is off... whatever you need to do!) and I will cherish the feedback. Otherwise, I will see you tomorrow with another chapter!