The Worth of Ash

Disclaimer: I own no rights to Game of Thrones or any related titles, characters, plots, 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 make me no money.

Chapter Three

The first morning after the king's arrival was an upheaval in routine for everyone. On a typical day, Kyren would have attended a midday lesson from Ser Rodrik in the company of Robb, Jon, and Theon. This morning, however, Lord Stark and King Robert had gone on a tour of the surrounding area. This was apparently something the king was wont to do when he visited a new area. Kyren privately believed that such thoughtfulness, however occasionally displayed, was a large part of the reason the people were so willing to put up with the king's generally poor-mannered nature. Naturally, as the future Lord of Winterfell, Robb had joined the royal tour.

Thus Kyren's lesson with Ser Rodrik had been moved to take place even earlier in the day as Theon and Jon were to accompany a group of men on a hunting trip. No one knew for certain how long the king would be staying at Winterfell, and none objected to the idea of a fully-stocked pantry. As the Starks were fond of saying: Winter is coming.

The Stark girls were both attending their lessons with Septa Mordane and Lady Catelyn was overseeing Bran and Rickon's riding lessons (being an excellent horsewoman herself, she possessed an insight rivaling even that of the riding instructor), leaving very few residents of Winterfell to freely roam the grounds.

All of these things considered, Kyren knew exactly who the group breakfasting in a side hall were: Queen Cersei and her family, all fairly late risers by the standards of Winterfell. Kyren was already tardy for her lesson with Ser Rodrik and wanted desperately to avoid a meeting with the woman already known to the occupants of Winterfell as 'the most beautiful woman in Westeros'. Kyren couldn't explain her extreme aversion to the queen, but something about the powerful blonde female put her teeth on edge.

Unfortunately, Kyren's path to the training yard took her around the edge of the side hall currently occupied by the royal family, and doubling back would most certainly cause her to be late to the lesson. Ser Rodrik was well-known for punishing tardiness with additional warmups and the use of the heaviest sword during drills. Kyren would rather not subject herself to such a morning.

Keeping her face toward the floor, Kyren shuffled inelegantly through the open space before the hall. She was moving at quite a clip and barely heard when Queen Cersei called, "Girl?"

She slowed, casting a confused glance over her shoulder. When she saw the queen was indeed speaking to her, Kyren returned to the table currently hosting the queen, her two younger children, Ser Jaime, Lord Tyrion, and their meals.

Queen Cersei made a regal gesture toward an unoccupied chair. "Please, sit. Break your fast with us."

"I apologize, your grace, but I am quite late for a meeting with Ser Rodrik." She tried to move away once more, but the queen spoke further.

"So it is true, then. Ned Stark allows you to train with the males of his household." The statement sounded bland enough to be inoffensive, but something about the queen's perfectly-coiffed hair and impeccable outfit - even so soon after she had risen from slumber - made Kyren incredibly insecure toward her own simple braid and well-worn breeches. Queen Cersei's emerald eyes glittered as she slanted them at Kyren. "Why is that?"

"I learned at a young age the importance of the ability to defend oneself, one's property, and those one loves," Kyren explained, striving to keep a balance between courtesy and speed. "When I had been at Winterfell long enough to become literate, Lord Stark and I agreed that I would benefit far more from learning to fight rather than how to care for a large household. I know certain elements, of course, but I am from a poor family and unlikely to match with a Lord or even a wealthy man, your grace."

"A poor family? And which family would that be?" the queen asked, seeming genuinely curious. Kyren's mistrust continued.

"The Asheworths, your grace."

"One has to wonder about these northern names," Ser Jaime sighed impatiently. "After all, what is the worth of ash?"

"Begging your pardon, Ser," Kyren said with a shallow bow, "but living so far north; indeed, just south of the Wall… We know the worth of a good fire."

Lord Tyrion's brow quirked. "Why not 'Fireworth', then? For Jaime is right; there is little worth to ash."

Kyren spread her hands away from her body in a show of humble ignorance. "In truth, my lord, I never thought to ask my father. If I had to hazard a guess, however, it would be that we are the ashes. The cold, the winters, the harshness of life here… They could all be considered the metaphorical fire. It burns and burns and we are what is left." She let a corner of her mouth quirk up a bit. "Or my ancestors did not put as much thought into a name as we are doing now."

"Have you ever been to the Wall?" Lord Tyrion asked abruptly, regarding her with interest.

"No, my lord. We live close to the Wall, but not close enough for regular trips."

"Would you really wish to see it if you had the choice?" Queen Cersei asked derisively.

Kyren smiled softly. "I have always wanted to see the Wall. It is an incredible feat of engineered defense… At least, that is what Ser Rodrik says. I simply cannot force my mind to comprehend something so large and I always hoped that seeing it with my eyes would force understanding." Kyren came back to herself, remembering where she stood and to whom she was speaking. "But it is impossible, your grace. The Wall is no place for a woman, even one trained in combat."

"Well, I'm going to go and see it," Lord Tyrion said firmly. "Perhaps I'll have the chance to tell you about it at a later date."

That in particular took Kyren aback. "You are going to the Wall, Lord Tyrion? For what purpose?"

"I am going to piss from the side of it, off the very end of the world," he replied with relish.

Kyren stifled a laugh while Cersei rose to her feet. "I will not sit here and listen to such filth, much less subject my children to it." She looked to Kyren then. "I would advise you to leave as well. He does not grow less offensive with exposure."

With that, the queen was gone and Kyren had a new chance for escape. "If you gentlemen will excuse me…"

"Wait a moment, girl," Lord Tyrion ordered, holding up one rough hand. "I hear you approve of Jaime's title."

Kyren was stymied at that. Was she meant to disagree with Jaime Lannister being a knight, or a Kingsguard? "I am sorry, my lord?"

"'Kingslayer'. You found it to be formidable, correct?"

So Jon had been correct and there was no truly private place in Winterfell at the moment. Kyren turned to face both men once more, finding a satisfied-looking Lord Tyrion while Ser Jaime occupied himself by picking absently at the food on his plate. "It is quite an intimidating title, my lord. It tells men that Ser Jaime is one to be feared."

"It tells them I am not to be trusted," Jaime muttered.

Kyren puzzled that over carefully before forming her response. "Begging your pardon once more, Ser, but it tells them that you are unpredictable. An enemy you cannot predict is the most dangerous kind." Ser Jaime looked skeptical, but Kyren held his emerald gaze and continued undeterred. "You are a member of the Kingsguard. The king must trust you or he would not have you guarding his person. So long as the king trusts you and other men fear you, let them call you what they will."

Lord Tyrion seemed to think that over and Ser Jaime stared at her with that same piercing look, but Kyren had no time to speak any longer. "I apologize once more, but I really am most dreadfully late. Lord Tyrion, Ser Jaime…" Kyren gave a half-bow in their direction and walked as quickly for the training yard as she could while not breaking out into a run.

"That will be enough for today," Ser Rodrik announced, allowing Jon, Theon, and Kyren to drop the weapons from the position of their last sword drill.

Kyren's arms burned fiercely. She had been undeniably tardy to the session and was ordered to use the heaviest sword, the hardest-to-draw bow, and - since Robb was absent - had faced off against Ser Rodrik himself. The older man was just as skilled as Jon, but was far more willing to use every ounce of his strength against the much-smaller Kyren. It had been an exhausting session, and the only consolation was that Kyren had only lessons with Maester Luwin to take up her evening rather than the start of a days-long hunting trip.

"When do you boys depart?" Ser Rodrik asked, thoughts obviously similar to Kyren's own.

"Not for a few hours yet," Jon answered. He had hardly begun to sweat at the end of their training while Kyren was nearly drowning in her soaked clothing.

"Have you fully prepared to leave?" Ser Rodrik asked, adding slowly, "There is always an opportunity for additional drills as you have such a great deal of time left."

Jon smilingly shook his head and took his weapons back in the direction of the practice armory, but Theon gave a wicked grin. "I've already packed. I can stay for a while."

"Wonderful! I believe Kyren could use some additional grappling practice."

"But Ser-" Kyren argued.

Ser Rodrik interrupted her harshly. "Are you disobeying your instructor, girl?"

"No, Ser Rodrik," she said reluctantly.

"Good. I believe the best of three should be sufficient."

"Three?!" Kyren repeated in horror. Ser Rodrik lifted a snowy brow and she adopted a more respectful tone as she said, "It seems a more extreme punishment than is typical for you."

"You were more extremely tardy than is typical for you," he responded. "Begin."

Without warning, Theon leapt at her, tackling Kyren to the ground before she truly knew what was happening. After that poor start, Kyren rallied slightly, escaping several holds before Theon pinned her. "Yield?" he asked, and she nodded before he let her up.

"One point to Greyjoy," Ser Rodrik said contemptuously. "Asheworth, do not allow Greyjoy to win so easily next time. It would be a pleasant change to see you score at least once against the boy."

Kyren sighed. "I am trying, Ser. I have never managed to pin him before."

"And that means you should not strive to do so now?" He shook his head in disgust. "Again."

She stared after him for a moment, gritting her teeth to hold back an angry retort. A rustle from behind her made Kyren whirl around to see Theon lunging at her once more, apparently choosing to continue using the method that had previously worked so well for him.

The boys had always been in possession of several advantages over Kyren in grappling: they were unencumbered by long hair, they could remove their shirts, and they often fought barefoot. Kyren's best defense of her hair was to bind it in a braid, but it was still easily manipulated by the boys. Shirtless men were much harder to grasp and pin down than ones whose clothing could allow for handholds, and their more-considerable weight allowed them to fight merely by standing on Kyren's bare feet when she opted to remove her shoes. All of these were weaknesses Kyren had struggled to overcome and she had been devising a plan for several months. As it happened, Theon had finally placed himself into the perfect position for her to use said plan.

As the Ironborn boy pushed himself across the mud of their grappling pit, one of his feet slipped, throwing his tackle slightly off-center. Kyren side-stepped it easily, whirling around to lunge at him while he was still in the process of recovering his balance. She knocked him to the ground, riding his body so that he took the full impact of their fall. They landed with Theon on his stomach, Kyren on his back. Her knees were on his elbows, one muscular forearm wrapped around the back of his head and anchored against his throat.

Slowly, Kyren pushed forward, applying increasing pressure on his windpipe. "Yield," she ordered lowly.

Theon was obviously reluctant to do as she said, but he was well and truly pinned. He wasn't flexible enough to kick her, lacked the leverage to buck her off, and his fists could only clench and unclench in the mud. He held off regardless, coughing once - twice - then muttered almost inaudibly, "I yield."

Kyren looked at Ser Rodrik for confirmation before she released Theon and the old knight nodded. "Best release him, girl, before he loses consciousness."

She did and Theon slowly staggered up to his feet. Kyren wanted to crow her pride at finally beating the Ironborn boy, but there was a wild look in Theon's eyes that warned that he would do his best to retaliate - and he still had one more chance.

After both retreated to their individual sides of the yard, Ser Rodrik barked, "Begin!"

Theon took his time then, circling as he eyed Kyren warily. She knew he was seeking a weakness and refused to show fear. Finally, he came at her, aiming low on her legs. Kyren tried to lever herself upward and over his shoulders, giving herself the advantage, but her hands slipped uselessly over Theon's sweat-slicked skin.

Instead of landing atop him, Kyren found herself crushed by Theon's weight. Having been slightly stunned by her collision with the ground, she made only part of an escape attempt before he attempted to slip an arm around her neck. Left with few other options, Kyren headbutted him - never a wise choice, as it stunned her still further, but she managed to roll out from under him. At the last moment before she got to her feet, a hand seized her ankle and Kyren landed hard on her right shoulder. Flipping to her back, she struck out with her left elbow, catching Theon in the mouth. With a sharp curse, he kneed her stomach and took advantage of the momentary breathlessness that followed to flip her onto her front.

In half a second, Kyren was pinned in much the same way as she had Theon: face-down with him on her back. His knees pinned her legs - the boys having discovered long ago that Kyren's legs were quite flexible and capable of kicking even from awkward angles - while her arms were anchored behind her back, held firmly in his large hands.

"Do you yield?" he asked, and the smile in his voice made Kyren's blood boil.

"Theon, you thrice-cursed son of an iron-mongering whore! ...I yield."

Theon released her, springing to his feet while she rolled to her back. He extended a hand to the glaring girl, whose expression turned to a rueful smile as she accepted the assistance. When Kyren was on her feet, she embraced the Ironborn irritant. It was a warrior's embrace, a quick clasp about the shoulders before pulling back once more.

"I know you're better at grappling than I am, but must you always take such pleasure in grinding me to dust?" Kyren asked, rotating the shoulder she knew would be tender for days.

Theon grinned widely. "I had to prove I still could! That's the first time you've ever beaten me. I could hardly believe you did even while it was happening."

"Is that why you took so long to yield?" Kyren laughed. "I thought I would have to wait until you were unconscious!"

"There were spots in my eyes," Theon admitted.

"That is all for now," Ser Rodrik told them. "Theon, you may ready yourself for your hunting trip. Kyren, clean the practice armory."

"But Ser!" Kyren protested. "I finally beat Greyjoy today! Surely that calls for a hint of lenience."

"I agree," the knight said. "That is why I did not order you to clean the entirety of the barn. Work well, Asheworth. I will check to see that you did." With that, Ser Rodrik left the training yard with Theon, the younger man clapping Kyren on the (uninjured) shoulder as he departed.

Before Kyren could truly settle into melancholy, the air was filled with rain and she retreated into the barn, opting to work next to the practice armory. The barn was stuffy, the stagnant air smelling constantly of mildew and dust with a healthy dose of horse and hay. It was dim and dirty, but at least Kyren was protected from the weather as she set to her assigned task.

Kyren had only just finished arranging all the weaponry onto the proper hooks and shelves when her thoughts - and absent-minded humming - were interrupted.

"That was quite the training session," a voice said pleasantly.

Kyren started, but forced herself not to look back until her path took her toward the door of the barn. "Yes, it was," she responded simply. "Did you see much of it?"

"Enough," Ser Jaime answered, helpfully removing the lid to the scrap metal bucket to allow Kyren to throw in a disused sword hilt she had found. "Are they always so intense?"

"Not always. Robb is here most days, and he is a better match to Jon's sword skills than Theon."

"I understand Ser Rodrik was upset with you."

Kyren noted his bland tone and considered it as she finished wiping dust from the tops of the shelves holding the spare bowstrings. With that complete, she retrieved a broom and began raking the packed-dirt floor with short, careful strokes. Finally, she said, "He was displeased by my tardiness this morning."

"Partially my fault," he murmured. "Shall I explain to him what happened to cause your tardiness?"

"There is no need," Kyren assured, observing his surprise at the quiet refusal. "I have made amends on my own terms with no great injury."

"Still, no one should be punished for obeying the orders of their queen."

Kyren snorted at that. It seemed there was a new story every day of a person being punished for obeying the wrong order. In a flash, she remembered to whom she was speaking and gave a shallow bow in apology. "I beg your pardon, Ser Jaime, but Ser Rodrik hardly needs an excuse to punish me. He never has before."

He stared at her, emerald eyes piercing in the gloom. "He is harder on you than the others."

It was not phrased as a question, but Kyren answered it regardless. "He is, Ser, but only because he wants me to improve." Ser Jaime lifted a skeptical brow and Kyren gave a careless shrug. "Or he despises me. Difficult to know for certain which."

"Delightful," he said dryly. "I still plan to speak with him about this at first opportunity."

Kyren smiled softly, keeping her eyes on the ground before her sweeping broom. "Why does a member of the Kingsguard care what goes on in the training sessions of an orphan?"

"He doesn't," Ser Jaime replied harshly. "Why should I care about someone so far beneath me, you presumptuous thing?"

The smile fell from Kyren's face as she bowed apologetically once more. "Of course you would not, Ser. Please forgive my foolishness."

The golden-haired knight turned on his heel and strode out of the musty barn without another word and Kyren returned to her cleaning.

'Care', Jaime scoffed to himself, striding powerfully down a deserted hallway. I don't care about anything the orphan girl does. I would rather avoid even being in the same area... It is the injustice I despise, not Cassel's treatment of her... I should simply allow the old man to work her to death. Perhaps then her witch's eyes will stop haunting me…

Still, despite the harsh thoughts toward the orphan, Jaime's thoughts returned more than once to the session he had witnessed. It had been obvious that the old knight had been attempting to force Kyren into admitting her inability to continue, but equally as obvious had been the girl's determination to finish the training regardless. She had been noticeably exhausted, limbs shaking and face red, but had continued despite everything - and had still performed impressively.

"Ser! Ser Jaime!" He turned impatiently to see one of the guards rushing toward him. "Message from the queen, Ser. Said it was urgent, needed to be delivered straight away."

Jaime took the wax-sealed note from the slightly-panting guard and moved to open it before he realized the man had yet to move from the spot, watching Jaime open the letter with an air of fascination. Jaime's hands stilled and the guard glanced up at him in confusion. After seeing Jaime staring at him expectantly, the guard flushed.

"If it is urgent, you might be needing help to follow the queen's orders, mightn't you, Ser?"

"Doubtful," he drawled, immediately crushing the hope on the young guard's face. In an attempt to add even greater insult, he studied the guard, allowing his sharp gaze to linger on the shorter man's weak chin and slightly-bulging belly. "But if I should prove unsuited for whatever challenge lies in this missive, I shall know where to find you."

The guard, understanding that he was being mocked, scowled and walked away with a dark look that Jaime ignored. The letter was coded according to a secret language the twins had devised when they were still quite young. They had used it frequently over the years, and now the symbols were as easy as real letters for them to understand - or, in Jaime's case, far easier.

Dearest brother,

My husband and Ned Stark will be away on a hunt for a full day one week from tomorrow. I hope we can take advantage of the privacy? I miss you terribly.

Cersei

Jaime thought over his sister's request, staring from a window that, to his displeasure, overlooked the training yard. The orphan girl must have finished her work, as she was currently hurrying though the rain and into the protection of Winterfell's stone walls. Crushing Cersei's missive in his fist, Jaime continued down his chosen hall. He should have been thrilled by his sister's news. Admittedly, Jaime was fond of flirting with women, making them blush and giggle - the surge of power he felt from earning their admiration being almost sexual in nature - but Cersei was the only woman with whom he chose to lay. Cersei was his one love and he had not been alone with her since they began the journey north more than a month before.

It must be the weather, he decided. This bloody northern cold makes a man want to put on clothes, not take them off. Satisfied by the explanation of his own odd reaction, Jaime returned to staring out the windows he passed. Idly, he noted a nearby tower he had been told was abandoned. After a brief pause for thought, Jaime embarked on a search for ink and parchment with a whistle on his lips and a new spring in his step. He had found the perfect place to meet with Cersei.

"Let me test my understanding," Cersei requested, perfect mouth twisted into a sneering smile. "She heard the name 'Kingslayer' and told you it was intimidating, then said you are both dangerous and trustworthy." She laughed and it was like the image she presented to the world - glittering and cold and perfect. "It seems as if you have gained another love-struck girl to follow you around.

Jaime thought that over. In the week since he had last spoken to the orphan girl, she hadn't blushed when he was nearby, or fumbled for words in his presence, or giggled to gain his attention. Quite the opposite, in fact: she seemed perfectly content to go about her business and not speak to him at all. He had watched several of the training sessions after that first day. Though he had been tucked away in one of the second-story windows, he had been spotted by Robb Stark, Ned's bastard, the old knight, and the kraken boy, but the orphan hadn't seen him. Or, if she had, she was choosing to ignore him completely.

"I don't believe that is it," he said eventually. "Perhaps she was speaking the truth from her perspective."

Cersei snorted delicately. "Forgive me if I continue to assume she is trying to gain something. Everyone is."

Jaime shook his head. "Not necessarily. It is possible she is mad or not very bright. She is a girl who watched her parents' murder. Surely that does not lead to a sound mind."

"Perhaps not, but she is likely to journey with us to King's Landing," Cersei warned. "And as much as I despise watching you flirt… we need to win the orphan to our side. It could be useful for us to have someone in the Stark household."

"An orphan?" Jaime asked skeptically. "What good could she possibly do?"

"Let us assume you're right and she has nothing to gain from our attention. If she grows fond of us, she will speak in our favor to Ned Stark's daughters. He listens to them. No ill can come of having her on our side."

"So you wish for me to..?" he trailed off, smiling oddly. "Make friends with the girl? Brush our hair? Share all of our secrets?"

"Most assuredly not that," Cersei answered with a laugh. "But while friendship will soften a heart, love will blind it."

Jaime laughed abruptly, disbelievingly. "You want me to make the orphan girl fall for me?"

Cersei smiled her perfect smile and stepped closer, trailing a soft hand across his jaw. "I am certain you will prove more than a match for the challenge."

"Oh, a challenge, is she? Unlikely." Jaime seized Cersei's hand at the wrist and pulled her off-balance. With her held tightly in his arms, staring up at him with emerald eyes so like his own, Jaime gave a predatory smile. "But you will have to make it worth the effort, my queen."

She hummed willingly at him and pulled his head down until their lips crashed together.

Author's Note - Sorry for the Jaime/Cersei bit at the end. It's a bit more incest than I would have chosen to write, but I tried to portray as little as possible. Also, I did what I could for this chapter, but I couldn't quite get rid of the cheesy parts - saying the title of the story in the story, a challenge to win someone over, etc. They're important plot-wise, even if I do find them somewhat cringey to read. Let me know how they come across and if you have any suggestions for improvement!

Special shoutout to everyone who is following or has favorited this story! You guys are truly appreciated. Extra special thanks to apester for being my first reviewer (well, first who wasn't just requesting a tag change). Reviews are gold, guys. Really. I do not have a set update schedule, but when I start figuring out when the next chapter will go live, I try to give my reviewers a better idea of when to expect updates through private message. Just in case that makes it worthwhile for you!

That should be it for this chapter! Thank you so much for reading, let me know what you thought, and have a wonderful day!