The Worth of Ash
Disclaimer: I own no rights to Game of Thrones or any related plots, characters, settings, etc. These rights belong solely 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 Two
The feast was loud, dizzying, and nearing the edge of belligerent, as most good feasts tended toward. It had been nearly a full hour since everyone began to dine and for the first time, the king rose from his seat at the head table. The Starks and the royal family started to their feet, but King Robert waved for everyone to be seated once more. While they did as he asked, the king began walking around the perimeter of the room, stopping here and there to speak with someone or laugh with a group.
Eventually, he journeyed to the table filled by the wards, the bastard, and the trusted servants. All stood when he stopped in front of them. He gestured impatiently at them. "Would people stop doing that? Senseless ceremony."
Uncomfortably, the table sat back down. King Robert reached over the table to clasp Jon's arm. "Wonderful to meet you at last, Jon! Ned mentions you often in his reports."
"I- I was unaware of that, your grace," Jon stuttered out, clearly not having expected such a statement from the king.
"Under the personal section," King Robert continued blithely. "Writes about all of his children, Ned does."
A dazed-looking Jon settled back into his chair and stared unreadably at the head table where his father and half-siblings were seated with the royal family. The king didn't notice, already having moved onto Theon. Rather than offering a gesture or comment, King Robert merely directed a shallow nod to the Ironborn.
"Greyjoy. What has your father been doing since this generation's rebellion failed?"
Theon stuck out his chin. "I would not know, your grace. I haven't spoken to the man since Lord Stark took me."
"Ned Stark saved your life when he could easily have demanded it in payment for your father's rebellion," King Robert reminded him harshly. "Not many men would have volunteered to bring a rebel's son into his home, to live with his family. Never forget how badly things could have - should have - gone for you and your family."
"Yes, your grace," Theon agreed stiffly,
King Robert's face lost none of its sternness as his attention moved to Kyren. "And this is the orphan girl Ned took in so many years ago. Tell me, girl, when are you going to stop taking advantage of Ned's hospitality?"
Maester Luwin, Septa Mordane, both boys, and even the golden-haired Kingsguard following the king at a discreet distance looked mildly horrified at the king's question. Judging from the conversations with the boys, however, Kyren felt certain that this was simply the way the king spoke to people and meant nothing personal by his bluntness.
"As it happens, your grace, I hope to leave Winterfell in the near future. I would like the chance to make my own way in the world," Kyren explained.
King Robert stared at her for a moment before throwing his head back in a belly-shaking laugh. "Make your way in the world? Girl, the only 'way' you are going to make is to marry and begin a family of your own." His laughter faded, but his face was still lined in amusement as he patted her genially on the shoulder. "Don't worry; Ned will find you a good man soon enough."
"Thank you, your grace," Kyren said with an awkward nod.
In an obvious effort to cover the silence, Jon spoke once more. "Thank you, my king, for coming to speak with us. It has truly been an honor for us all."
The king chuckled once more. "To be honest with you, Jon, I was just on my way to take a piss and got caught up in speaking to everyone."
"We will keep you no longer, your grace," Maester Luwin said with an incline of his head. It was dangerously close to a dismissal, but the king's rosy cheeks and uneven gait said that, perhaps, he would not object too firmly at the moment. He nodded and moved away.
As soon as King Robert and his guard were at a polite distance, Maester Luwin rested a gentle hand on Kyren's shoulder. "Are you well, my dear?"
Unable to explain that she was not well without allowing the tears to escape, Kyren gave a watery smile. "If you will all excuse me," she mumbled, pushing back her seat to stand without waiting for any reply.
Kyren made her way briskly to a door, intending to go for a short walk in the comforting coolness of the Godswood, but glanced backward by chance and caught the eye of Lady Catelyn. The woman shook her head slightly, indicating that Kyren was to stay inside the raucous feast hall, and Kyren nodded her understanding across the room. They had important guests, ones who may make too much of her absence at such a celebration.
Deciding to venture toward a less-busy area of the feast hall, Kyren climbed the shallow steps at the back of the room, standing eventually on a section of flooring that rose an equal distance as the platform on which the royal dining table sat, but on the opposite side of the room. Positioned as she was, Kyren had ensured that she would see everything, yet be approached by no one.
Or so she had thought. A diminutive figure sidled up to her, casting furtive glances at her when she was unlikely to be looking. Finally, she caught him in the act and their eyes met, emerald green against pale brown. She could see that he was well on the way to drunkenness, even more-so than the king. They stood side-by-side, watching the room in silence.
Casting a sidelong glance up at Kyren, the short man said, "You are no great beauty."
Kyren watched him from the corner of her eye for a long moment. This was obviously the man known as the Imp, the one Arya had been so excited to catch a glimpse of. He had already been spoken of a great deal in Winterfell, both as Tyrion Lannister and the queen's brother. She smirked slightly before replying, "I daresay not."
"You smiled," he accused.
"I apologize."
"No, no, I wasn't offended," he rushed to say, acting as if the idea itself were preposterous. "I simply wish to know why you did."
Kyren shook her head slightly. "You are a very important person. One does not speak plainly to someone in such high standing."
"Ah, but I am a dwarf. There is no dignity awarded to someone born as I was and so I have no pride to hurt. Say what you will."
"You are a dwarf, yes, but still a Lannister."
"In name only," Lord Tyrion countered. "No father would claim a shrunken little beast like me."
He said it as if it were an indisputable fact and Kyren turned to study him more closely. He was formed differently than a normal man, that much was certain, but he carried himself with a certain air of confidence, eyes bright with sharp wit and a great intelligence.
"Even if that were so," she answered carefully, "That name still carries a warning to those who would speak flippantly. You are a dwarf and a Lannister. I doubt either fact can null the other completely."
"In that case…" he drew himself up, holding his right hand in the air as he adopted a serious air. Gravely, he said, "With all the grace and humility of House Lannister and all the indignity and good humor that comes with dwarfism, I swear not to retaliate in any way when you reveal what you found such entertainment in considering."
Kyren took a deep breath, internally cursing herself for being so easily convinced of a Lannister's sincerity. "I have heard much about you, my lord, the majority flattering to you. I heard tales of your wondrous humor, your learned background, and the sharp blade of your wit. However, none of these avid speakers mentioned your appearance."
Lord Tyrion stared at her for a long moment, obviously turning her words around in his alcohol-addled mind. Finally, her meaning must have filtered through and he burst into near-bellows of laughter. When the fit had subsided, he wiped at his eyes and remarked, "I believe that is the kindest way I have ever been called ugly."
"I do not find you ugly, my lord, simply different," Kyren said honestly. "I was just surprised you would remark so readily on another's appearance."
The lingering amusement dropped from his face as he gave a half-bow. "Forgive me. I have consumed more wine than is perhaps wise and am prone to saying things I do not necessary mean."
Kyren laughed. "You meant it, and with good reason. I am no renowned beauty and there is no shame in that."
"There is not," he agreed readily enough. "I must warn you, as well-placed as was your trust in me, I would refrain from making similar comments to other members of my family."
"You must think the world a truly cruel place," she murmured.
"I think it so because it is," Lord Tyrion replied at length. "I fear I may have missed something, however. Why are we speaking of the world's cruelty?"
"Surely you don't believe I was cursed with an utter lack of brains to match my lack of beauty?" Lord Tyrion laughed once more and Kyren finished, "Our conversation will remain between us, my lord."
"That is a relief, Lady Sansa. I thank you." Kyren shifted uncomfortably and frowned, Lord Tyrion mirroring the expression soon after. "What is it, my lady?"
"I may finally have done something unforgivable, my lord," she answered, giving a weak smile. "I am not Lady Sansa, you see. I am no one near as important, just an orphan ward of Lord Stark's. He took me in after the death of my parents."
"Ah. Kyren, is it?" Lord Tyrion puffed out a breath, frowning even more intently now. "I must admit, that is a tremendous disappointment."
"I apologize for having wasted your time, Lord Tyrion," Kyren said demurely.
"Wasted? No, it is… Simply put, I found you to be quite witty. I had looked forward to having you accompany us to King's Landing."
"King's Landing?" Kyren parroted. "Why would Sansa be going to King's Landing?"
Lord Tyrion shrugged, shuffling a half-step closer as he lowered his voice. "Rumor has it we have traveled all this way so the king could personally ask Ned Stark to take on the position of Hand to the King. A position he'll accept, no doubt. Additionally, though my understanding of adolescent courtship customs is quite limited, I believe young Joffrey may have developed a liking for the girl I now realize must be Lady Sansa. A match would be to everyone's benefit."
The whirling intrigue and somewhat twisted logic was beginning to make Kyren's head spin. "I will bow to your superior knowledge in this matter."
"Wise," he said with a nod. There was a moment of quiet between the two before Tyrion looked up at her questioningly. "Did you not wonder about a random member of the royal family remarking upon your appearance?"
Kyren bit back a laugh. "No more than I would have if you had approached Lady Sansa and made the same remark. It would likely have destroyed her. Granted, it would have been far more difficult a mistake to make. Lady Sansa is indeed a great beauty." There was a tinge of pride in Kyren's eyes when she surveyed the younger girl.
Lord Tyrion followed her gaze. "Yes, she is," he agreed, sounding somber. "I fear it may be more detrimental than helpful in King's Landing, however."
A knot of worry tightened in Kyren's belly. "Is it truly so terrible a place?"
"Most certainly," he replied. "It has been an unexpected pleasure to meet you, Kyren, but I must leave. We have attracted the attention of the queen and that is never a good thing."
He hurried away and Kyren stared after him in confusion, but soon experienced the uncomfortable sensation of being watched. She glanced around slowly until she met the lovely green eyes of the queen. Kyren smiled politely at the woman and received no response. Suddenly eager to escape Queen Cersei's cold gaze, Kyren opted to move outside.
She wandered out into the courtyard, meandering leisurely until she heard the clanging of metal against metal. Kyren hurried then, rushing to see what had happened that called for the use of weapons, but found only Jon and Theon.
Their sparring was predictable, comforting and familiar as the winds that constantly buffeted Winterfell. Jon was better than any of the others, even managing to best Ser Rodrik on several occasions. Any who agreed to fight Jon with a blade had accepted that they would likely lose. For the younger challengers, it had become more of a test to see which could last the longest before finding themself disarmed. Currently, Robb held that particular title, but even Kyren could last longer than Theon. The Ironborn boy fared far better with his fists or his preferred weapon - the lance.
In archery and grappling, Robb and Theon were nearly matched. Jon's specialty was the sword, Robb had always excelled in hand-to-hand combat, Theon had practically been born with a lance in his hand, and Kyren competed against all of them. She couldn't hold a candle to any of the boys, but they pushed her, made her strive to improve. Besides, Kyren had her own talents. She was skilled at archery, performing better than any of the boys, though Arya still bested every one of them - and with far less opportunity for practice.
With Theon's unfortunate lack of prowess holding a sword, he was already struggling to fend off Jon, who was obviously attempting to hold back. Kyren said firmly, "I'll spar with Jon next." Both boys paused, glancing at her even with the blades of their swords crossed in the beginning of a rather ill-formed block.
"You intend to fight me in that dress?" Jon asked, dark grey eyes concerned, bewildered, and a tad amused.
"Lady Stark will send you to the Wall if you tear another gown," Theon reminded, not bothering to hid the joy he took from the memories of such prior incidents.
Kyren pulled a face as she moved for the barn, the change in expression her only reaction to their taunts. Once inside the musty shelter, she walked directly to the practice armory, located beside the saddles and tack. Though all the blades were purposely dulled, they were stored higher up so that the younger Stark children could not retrieve weapons and harm anyone. Kyren always used the same practice sword: lighter and carefully dulled, it was easy to handle but still strong enough to withstand Jon's confident maneuvers, Robb's heavy-handed swings, and Theon's frantic jabbing.
On her way back to the courtyard, Kyren paused to greet a few of her favorite horses, but still arrived at the door of the barn before the two boys could have moved into another fight… or so she had assumed. At first, her assumption was bolstered by the lack of sword noise and the apparent start of a conversation between Jon and Theon. However, as Kyren drew closer, she realized with a start that she did not recognize the voice speaking most often.
Holding the sword close to her legs, Kyren allowed the folds of her dress to obscure it from view before she stepped into the courtyard once more.
With a widening smile, the blond man who had been following the king during the feast turned to her, emerald eyes drifting down her form in a somewhat offensive manner. "Ah, here she is: the last member of Ned Stark's infamous pack of strays."
The taunting name wasn't unfamiliar to Kyren. Between Jon, Theon, and herself, Lord Stark had gained quite a reputation for collecting those no one else would find useful. Though some considered the name to be insulting, many more - especially of those who lived in the Northern part of Westeros - thought it to be proof of Ned Stark's kind nature.
All of this in mind, Kyren brushed off any insinuation of slander and gave a courtly bow. "Kyren Asheworth, Ser. I don't believe we've had the pleasure of an introduction."
"Ser Jaime Lannister," he answered, and if his bow held an extra flourish, she pretended not to notice. At the crescendo of the gallant gesture, his gaze flicked to the weapon in her hand, partially exposed by the motion of her skirts in the light breeze. He straightened, but grinned still more widely, seeming absolutely delighted as he asked, "And what were you planning to do with that sword, girl?"
Kyren glanced down at the weapon in her hand. "'Tis only a practice blade, Ser. I was planning to best Jon with it." Jon and Theon snorted and she smiled a bit. "I was going to try, more accurately."
"And what business does a lady have in a training yard with men like these two? Unless you do not claim to be a proper lady at all…" His eyes glinted wickedly as he added, "Improper ladies are my favorite type, I must admit."
Theon grumbled and Jon shifted uncomfortably, but the practiced delivery of a career rake did nothing to flatter Kyren and her cheeks were free from blush as she answered, "I'm no lady at all, Ser. I have no title, no lands, no authority. If you've heard stories of our group, I am sure this comes as no shock to you. My penniless background is well-documented by most gossipers."
After a moment of apparent discomfort - whether due to her fortunes or her bluntness, Kyren was uncertain - Ser Jaime asked condescendingly, "And you think yourself a master of the blade?"
Kyren shook her head instantly. "Most certainly not; Jon is the sword master of Winterfell. My own swordwork is average at best."
Ser Jaime opened his mouth, likely in an attempt to say something derisive, but was intercepted by Jon. "Kyren prefers daggers."
"Daggers?" The Kingsguard eyed Kyren with a new interest. "Those are very close-range weapons, girl. How is your grappling?"
"Poor, Ser," Kyren admitted honestly.
He tsk'd at her. "If you cannot grapple exceedingly well, daggers are as dangerous to the wielder as they are to the one being attacked."
"She don't stab people with the daggers… Ser," Theon tacked the title reluctantly to his haughty interjection. "Never gets close enough to grapple."
Jon nodded his agreement. "That is true. She throws them."
Ser Jaime's gaze darted from the boys to Kyren, still standing in the doorway of the barn. "You throw daggers?" he asked, voice heavy with disbelief.
Kyren nodded, but Jon continued speaking before she could. "She hunts rabbits with them, Ser. Her accuracy rivals that of most who favor use of the bow and arrow."
"Five daggers, five kills," Theon added with relish.
Ser Jaime's emerald eyes shone with grudging respect. "I would ask for a demonstration, but I am unsure of whether I condone a woman taking part in such behavior."
Kyren shrugged, uncaring of his criticism. "Fortunate that I am not asking for you to condone anything, then. I am not highborn, Ser, and my life may very well depend on my ability to defend myself in the future."
He lifted a golden brow. "I would think your safety would depend just as highly upon your husband's abilities."
"I have no husband at the moment. Until such time as one appears, I will continue to depend upon myself," Kyren answered firmly.
Ser Jaime eyed her, apparently taken aback by her blunt attitude. At length, he said, "For your sake, I hope you are as talented as these two seem to believe."
"I hope so as well, Ser," Kyren agreed politely.
He inclined his head - a muscle clenching in his sharply-angled jaw - and departed back into the warm chaos of the feast.
Kyren laughed in the sudden silence. "Were you attempting to impress a Lannister with my abilities?"
Theon nodded shamelessly. "Of course we were. He's seen a thousand men training to be fighters, but the idea of a woman doing the same threw him completely off balance."
"Still, I wish you would have found a way to warn me! Especially considering he was so-"
Jon cut her off, catching her at the elbow. "Mind what you say, even here. Winterfell is thick with Lannister guards."
"I had noticed!" Kyren exclaimed, lowering her voice at his narrowed glare. "Does the king think so little of Lord Stark to believe that he would allow the people of Winterfell to harm the royal family?"
"The men he brought were for the journey north, I would wager," Jon supplied. "The trip from King's Landing to Winterfell winds through many unsavory places."
"Or maybe he wanted protection from his protectors," Theon said conspiratorially. Jon and Kyren answered with matching expressions of silent confusion and he shrugged. "One member of his Kingsguard is called 'the Kingslayer'. I would not want my safety to depend upon him."
Jon nodded gravely, but Kyren couldn't suppress a grin. "'Kingslayer'? That is rather an impressive title. Hits just the right notes of menace."
"It isn't meant as a title; it is meant as a warning," Jon told her. "He swore oaths to defend his king and instead, killed him."
"A mad king," Kyren argued. "One bent on the destruction of Westeros. Was it not good that he was killed?"
"Disregard her, Jon," Theon jeered. "Kyren is a woman. She must have been blinded by all of that golden hair."
"How can it have blinded me, Theon? I have never met the Kingslayer," Kyren pointed out.
Jon began laughing then. "Ser Jaime will be devastated that he has left so little an impression."
"Ser Jaime is the Kingslayer?" Kyren asked, aghast.
"You mean to tell us you didn't know?" Theon jeered gleefully. "Any fool knows the identity of the Kingslayer."
His words stung Kyren's temper. Theon's attitude had improved markedly over the years, but he never missed an opportunity to remind everyone that he was highborn, not a bastard like Jon or worse - a penniless orphan taken in by Ned Stark because of his guilt.
"Not all of us grew up with history tutors, Greyjoy. Forgive my idiocy," she snarled venomously.
"Kyren!" Jon called. She did not turn back but she did stop. "Did you not want to spar?"
Before she even faced him directly, Kyren's practice sword was raised, ready for his attack. It was fortunate, as Jon's blade immediately clashed against her own as they moved in silent circles to test the other's footwork.
Ser Rodrik was fond of saying that no time spent practicing was wasted. Kyren did fairly well, but her heart wasn't in their duel and she feared she was close to wasting practice. After only minutes, she was disarmed and Jon returned the swords to the practice armory. When he emerged from the barn once more, Jon had a resigned look in his dark grey eyes. "Do you plan to accompany the Starks to King's Landing, Kyren?"
"Do you truly believe that Lord Stark will accept the King's request?"
Jon nodded solemnly. "King Robert is not a man easily rejected by anyone, especially Lord Stark. When the royal family returns to King's Landing, I feel certain that several members of the Stark household will accompany them." Kyren mused on that for only a moment before he pressed, "Will you be among them?"
She fell silent, an uncomfortable sense of inevitability creeping over her thoughts. After a moment of puzzling the idea, Kyren gave a slow nod. "I believe that would be easiest," she admitted. "I could travel with the Starks and benefit from the security of the king's numbers, then go my own way from King's Landing." The quiet after the reveal of her newly-conceived plan deepened as Kyren realized she was speaking of leaving Winterfell - likely never to return.
Abruptly, Jon volunteered, "I'm going to join the Night's Watch."
It was not truly a shock. A deaf, dumb, and blind imbecile could have guessed at Jon's intentions. He idolized his Uncle Benjen and spoken often of his desire to see the Wall. No small wonder, with the lack of acceptance Lady Stark had given him. Jon was honorable, loyal, protective, and a better swordsman than Winterfell should have been capable of producing. No, Kyren had always known Jon would join the Night's Watch, but she would miss him dearly and said as much.
"You will be a credit to the Watch, Jon. I shall rest easy knowing you are on the Wall, guarding us from wildlings and worse."
Jon nodded deeply, the motion only partially hiding the look of relief on his expressive face. "And I shall rest easy as well, knowing you are protecting the good people of Westeros from the evils committed by men."
"And I shall rest easiest of all, safe here at Winterfell with plenty of food and a warm bed," Theon proclaimed. Kyren suppressed a start, having long since forgotten he was still in the courtyard. "Unlike you two, I will stand a decent chance at living a full life without being stabbed."
Jon rolled his eyes at Theon while Kyren pretended to aim a punch at the Ironborn boy's arm. Theon laughed and jogged for the door leading back into the feast hall. "I am returning to the feast, where I won't have to suffer this abuse," he accused laughingly.
Left alone in the training yard with Jon, Kyren asked, "When will you journey for the Wall?"
"As soon as the king leaves Winterfell," he replied softly.
Kyren gave a weak smile. "I suppose we should enjoy our time here. We shall have to leave soon enough."
Jon smiled, offering his arm with a bow almost as ridiculous as the one delivered by Ser Jaime Lannister earlier in the evening. "May I escort you back to the feast, Kyren Asheworth?"
She accepted his arm with one of her laughably bad curtsies. "Thank you, Jon Snow. How positively gallant of you" The rapid flutter of her eyelashes made her stumble and set both to laughing as they moved back into the crowded feast hall.
Author's Note - Longer chapter this time! I apologize for the inconsistent lengths, but I've decided to write the story before separating it into chapters rather than writing defined chapters as I tend to try making each chapter into a mini-story and it gets monotonous to read. Sorry for the odd tangent into my writing habits as well! Another quick explanation as I am already off-topic: the ways to which the characters are referred changes depending on whose POV we're in. Kyren, being young and awe-struck and trying so hard to be proper, thinks of everyone with their correct titles whereas others will simply think of them by their names.
All right, three chapters down, most characters have been introduced (for the beginning of the story, at least!), and we have a solid word-count going! On my end, I have several more chapters written, but I would like to focus on writing further plot rather than continue non-stop editing, so I likely won't update for roughly a week or so. Please let me know what you think so far and have a wonderful day!