The Worth of Ash
Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Game of Thrones or any related titles, plots, characters, settings, etc. These rights belong to George R. R. Martin, HBO, and their various publishers and distributors. I own only the original elements of this story, the writing and publishing of which make me no money.
Chapter Four
Several Weeks Later:
"Where are we going?" Kyren asked as she stumbled over a tree root. The two were deep in the forests surrounding Winterfell and Maester Luwin had yet to give any real explanation for their journey.
"We are looking for a very specific flower that blooms only on the very edge of winter. This summer has stretched for so many years that my stores have long since run out. It is known as the Soul Tether."
"Unless you wish for me to call for it by name and hope it comes to us, I will need a description," Kyren said cheekily.
"Look for a large-petaled bloom nearly the size of an outspread hand. It will be a very distinctive color. Similar to your eyes, in fact," Maester Luwin mused thoughtfully.
"A brown flower is certainly distinctive, but sounds as if it would be better left alone," Kyren returned, studying the forest around them.
He clucked softly at her. "Denying the traits which set us apart do not cause them to disappear."
She had no response to that and occupied herself in the search for the peculiarly-named Soul Tether. So absorbed was she in looking for the flower that Kyren nearly did npt notice what surrounded her, but when she did, she began to laugh.
"Have you found it?" Maester Luwin called through the trees.
"No," she answered, "but have we any need for Dragon's Tears?"
"There is always a need for Dragon's Tears," he replied, climbing through the underbrush that separated them. When he could see her, a smile crept across his weathered face. "You seem to have stumbled upon quite a patch of it."
Indeed she had. The dull grey leaves stretched across the entire clearing in which Kyren stood and she began to gather them dutifully. Maester Luwin watched the process with a faraway look in his dark eyes.
"Do you remember when you first learned of Dragon's Tears?"
Kyren made a face. "Of course I do. You speak of it often enough!"
"And why are they called Dragon's Tears, Kyren?" he asked in the voice he used when imparting wisdom or searching her memory.
"Maester Luwin…" she groaned.
He shook his head, "No, I'm afraid I had nothing to do with it. All name choices were made long before I became a Maester."
Kyren sighed. "Legends say that dragons were capable of breathing flames that burned hotter than any other fire. There was only one way to cure a burn caused by dragonfire: for one of the creatures to shed a tear on the wound. The Dragon's Tears plant is said to have sprouted where those tears seeped into the earth. It is used to ease inflammation, both externally and internally. Have I passed your test, Maester?"
"Of course," he replied easily, pretending not to notice the mocking edge to her voice. "Do you remember how disappointed you were by its appearance?"
Kyren closed her eyes for a moment, praying to the Seven for patience. "Yes, Maester. I had hoped something so closely associated with dragons would be more visually appealing."
A soft smile crept across his face. "I have so enjoyed your company, my dear. I shall be quite sad to see you leave Winterfell."
Kyren paused, a half-filled sack of Dragon's Tears in front of her. She wasn't surprised at all that Maester Luwin knew of her upcoming departure, but she did experience a pang of guilt about leaving the man who had such an impact on her life. "I feel as if I am failing you, Maester," she admitted.
"Failing me?" he asked in obvious surprise. "Kyren, how could you think such a thing?"
"You spent so much time teaching me the ways of medicine and healing and I am going to take that knowledge elsewhere. It feels… traitorous."
Maester Luwin chuckled. "The only failure I fear is if we cannot find this flower before my knees begin aching far worse than they do currently."
A short time later, Maester Luwin discovered the flower for which they were searching - but only one. He claimed it would be enough to help Bran, but Kyren could tell he was concerned. The Maester always liked to have more than he needed, just in case he made a mistake. As long as Kyren had been watching, he had never made a mistake.
The two hiked quickly back to Winterfell, but Kyren found herself pausing to look up at the abandoned tower. Maester Luwin walked a few steps further before joining her.
"He fell," she said softly. "He never falls. Now he has been asleep for more than a fortnight and we do not know if he will ever wake."
Maester Luwin's hand settled on Kyren's shoulder. "Young Bran is alive, Kyren, and as long as he lives, there is hope. I will drain the juice from the Soul Tether and it will bind his soul to his body. He will find his way back from wherever he has wandered."
"Do you really think he will wake?" Kyren asked, hating how young her voice sounded.
"Yes, I do. He may experience damage to his body, but he will live. I only pray it happens before Lord Stark must leave with the king."
Kyren made a confused noise at that. Bran's fall had been such a tragedy that she had forgotten that life would continue. "Surely he would not- Will we still go?"
Maester Luwin smiled at her sadly. "Westeros cannot pause its existence because one life hangs in the balance. The king is needed in King's Landing and Lord Stark must accompany the king."
Nodding, Kyren pulled herself away from the tower. She followed Maester Luwin to his apothecary in silence, thinking about Bran. She hadn't been around the young boy often, but by virtue of spending time with Robb, Jon, and Theon - all of whom made an effort to be around Bran - she was familiar enough to ache with the thought of his potential loss.
When they had reached the apothecary, Kyren deposited her bag of Dragon's Tears on a worktable. "It's probably for the best that you are journeying to King's Landing," Maester Luwin mused softly, reaching for the mortar and pestle he kept on a high shelf. "You would have made a terrible healer. You hold too many grudges."
He returned to his workstation as Kyren was preparing to be insulted, but she caught the mischievous gleam in his eyes. Instead, she gave a loud snort. "I think your memory is beginning to fail you, old man. Who was the one to put Heatleaf in the smallclothes of that man so obnoxiously determined to court Sansa? If grudges are my failing, petty revenge is yours."
He blinked at her, feigning a startled naivety. "I am certain I have no idea what you mean."
Kyren shook her head. "Surely somewhere among all the vows you took to become a Maester, the subject of lying was addressed?"
"Yes, I believe it was," Maester Luwin admitted eventually. "I swore never to tell a lie… to anyone I am currently treating."
They both broke into laughter, but were thrown back into silence by a new voice from the door. "Forgive my intrusion, but I'll freely admit that is a sound I have missed over these last weeks."
Kyren stiffened, but Maester Luwin fielded the new presence as though he had been aware long before the statement was made. Inclining his head, the older man said, "No interruption to forgive, my lord, but I fear there has been little cause for laughter of late."
Tyrion glanced at the pile of Dragon's Tears. "Dare I hope this means a breakthrough has been made?"
Maester Luwin shook his head. "I am afraid not. Kyren and I have been out gathering Dragon's Tears in hopes of reducing any inflammation in young Bran's body."
"Dragon's Tears require several days to prepare, do they not?"
The Maester smiled. "You know medicine, my lord," he said with an air of praise. "Yes, the process of creating a liquid form of their healing prowess will require two to three days."
Kyren glanced at him, careful to move only her eyes so not to attract attention from their guest. There was only one reason Maester Luwin would lie about Bran's treatment: he distrusted someone at Winterfell. Though he was speaking directly to Tyrion Lannister, there was always the concern that the man would reveal details to someone else.
As if in confirmation, Maester Luwin met Kyren's gaze with a gleam of urgency in his eyes before returning them to Lord Tyrion. Kyren had worked with the Maester closely enough to recognize his sub-vocal meaning: he wished her to lure Tyrion away so he could work with the Soul Tether flower in privacy.
After a moment of uncomfortable silence, Kyren finally said, "Lord Tyrion? I did wish to speak with you if you have a spare moment."
"Of course," he agreed readily. "Shall we move elsewhere?"
"Please," Kyren assented, crossing to the door. "Alert me at once if I may assist with anything, Maester Luwin."
"I certainly will do so, Kyren."
Kyren strode from the room, Lord Tyrion trailing behind her. She purposefully chose a circuitous route from the apothecary in an attempt to confuse the Lannister about its exact location and moved a tad faster than would be comfortable for the short man so he didn't have an excess of time to study their surroundings.
When finally they emerged on nearly the opposite side of Winterfell, Kyren spoke. "It appears you were correct about Lord Stark and his decision to accept the position as Hand of the King."
"Unsurprising," Lord Tyrion remarked blandly.
"I believe I will join the company on their journey south."
He hummed at that. "Also not a surprise. A girl who has spoken of her desire to create a life for herself would need distance from places like Winterfell. King's Landing, as a major city, is much more conducive to traveling."
"Very true," Kyren responded, "Which brings me to the point of this conversation: you told me once that King's Landing is a terrible place."
"Because it is," Lord Tyrion interjected.
"In what sense?" she pressed. "Is it possible to avoid any dangers or inconveniences? Are there any hints you could give about the best way to navigate? Should I warn the Starks?"
"Ned Stark knows well enough the sort of place King's Landing is, it is why he attempted to dissuade Jon Arryn from accepting the position of Hand when it was offered so many years ago. He will likely warn his family before they begin the journey. There is no way to avoid all dangers in the city, but I do have one hint for you: trust no one."
It was a simple enough thing to say. After all, trusting no one in an unfamiliar city seemed quite a logical course of action to Kyren, but she sensed Lord Tyrion meant more than that. "Surely there are some who may be trusted in time?"
"Everyone you will meet in King's Landing is either being paid to watch for information or anticipating a chance to do so. As someone accompanying the Starks, everything you do will be of interest and people will watch for any word or action that may be reported in exchange for gold." Lord Tyrion smirked, but not cruelly. "I have seen your surprise that some of our people pass information along to us. It is a habit one forms in the city, to go nowhere without spies. That would be something well worth remembering."
Kyren stared at him, vaguely horrified by his insinuation of an utter lack of privacy. "Why in the name of the Seven would you choose to stay in a place like that?"
"What choice do I have? Living as a dwarf means I have little protection . I am safest in a place where most fear my family - or, at the very least, my father."
"Your father?"
"Tywin Lannister." The answer was simple, obvious, and even Kyren was familiar with the name, but the information had not been disclosed by the short man standing beside her.
Jamie had not planned on interrupting the conversation between his brother and the orphan girl, but the way they were standing - so close together in an abandoned hallway - irked him deeply. She had not so much as glanced in Jaime's direction for nearly a full month, but here she was, confiding in the youngest Lannister as if they were the closest of companions. He had been on a minor mission for the Kingsguard, but he had stopped - fully armed and wearing his everyday leather armor - in order to disturb their conversation.
The girl was obviously taken aback by his presence, but she recovered well. "Tywin Lannister is your father. I should have put that together sooner."
"Yes, you should have," Jaime agreed bluntly. "But you've displayed a shocking lack of knowledge about our family since we arrived. I would expect no different from you."
She colored slightly. "I apologize, Ser. When news travels this far north, it is usually hopelessly exaggerated, completely untrue, or far too important to be relayed to anyone other than Lord Stark. I tend not to know much of events happening outside of Winterfell."
"A dangerous way to live, Kyren," Tyrion said, being far more kind than Jaime had planned. "Especially for one whose aspirations stretch far beyond these walls."
Aspirations? The girl had aspirations? Yes, she had said as much to the king, but what a person said meant little, at least in Jaime's experience. If she was indeed telling the truth, why had she chosen to confide in Tyrion, of all people? Jaime was the one charged with winning the girl's affections and Tyrion's involvement would only serve to make the situation more complex.
"I must admit, I am surprised to find you seeking companionship so soon," Jaime said nastily. "I had thought the day of our arrival would have left you… satisfied."
Tyrion's eyes sharpened. In a jovial voice that managed to mask his irritation, he returned, "You know me, brother. I am never fully satisfied."
The girl snorted, interrupting a tense silence. "I hope you were not with Ros, then. She would be devastated to hear she had allowed you to leave without reaching complete satisfaction."
The only consolation Jaime had for the idiotic way he was staring at the orphan girl was that Tyrion was doing much the same and looked all the more foolish for it.
She looked a tad exasperated then. "Really, my lord, Ser… You do remember that most of my days are spent in the company of three young men, correct? I am not completely naive, nor am I stupid. I am well aware of what you are speaking, despite your clever euphemisms and pretty phrases."
This conversation was not at all going the way Jaime had assumed it would and he strove to regain the upper hand. "Tyrion spent the day of our arrival in the local brothel with a handful of whores I paid to give him use of their bodies. Is that enough to shock you?"
Wearing a considering expression, as if he had been truly asking rather than attempting to cause discomfort, the girl said, "No, but I do know at least one boy who would be quite jealous he lacks the funds to recreate the experience."
"You do not speak at all like a young maiden, even one who spends time in the company of men," Tyrion said slowly. "Why would they tell you about all of these things? Unless you have quite the talent for eavesdropping?"
She blushed a miniscule amount. "I apologize for the crass bluntness of this conversation, but the boys used to say shocking things to disturb me during training sessions, put me off balance. It is no longer effective, but I have heard far more about Ros, and prostitutes, and the needs of young men than I ever wished to learn."
"Did they all intend to make a whore of you?"
Even as the question left his mouth, Jaime knew a line had been crossed. The girl's face went white as she dropped her gaze to the floor and Tyrion shot him a powerful glare. Even before his younger brother silently urged him to do so, Jaime attempted to make amends.
"I apologize. That comment was unworthy."
She nodded, but made no attempt at eye contact as she said, "I imagine the Starks would be disappointed in such results from their charity."
"Well…" Tyrion trailed. "I have no intentions in that direction, I give you my word, but there is a sort of honor in being the companion to a high-ranking official. I tell you this only because, if you intend to spend any length of time in King's Landing, there is always the chance that you may catch the attention of some such person. Taking offense - though completely understandable - may be seen as a rather grave insult."
She nodded and gave the ghost of a smile. "I thank you for the implied compliment, Lord Tyrion, but my aspirations lie in another direction, as you well know."
Tyrion nodded gravely, but before Jaime could ask exactly what these aspirations might be, they were interrupted by yet another person.
"Arya? Are you well?" the girl asked, concern thick in her voice.
Arya Stark was young, thin, dark-haired, and sharp. Even now, her light gaze darted between the three, assessing the situation and planning her actions based on what she found. The skill would prove useful in the event Ned Stark was truly so foolish as to bring his younger daughter to King's Landing.
"I wanted to speak with you," Arya admitted, looking straight at her father's female ward as if she could will both Lannisters out of existence if she but pretended they were not there.
"Of course," the red-haired girl assented. "If you will excuse me, my lord? Ser?" With that, she bustled over to the young girl and the two made their way rapidly to a more private destination.
After they had left, Tyrion turned to Jaime and hissed, "Have you taken full leave of your senses? What could you possibly have been thinking to say such a thing to that girl?"
Jaime laughed derisively, his regretful show of temper roaring back at the accusation in Tyrion's voice. "That girl? The orphan? I cannot see how it matters in what way I speak to her."
"Cannot see how it matters?" Tyrion repeated, incredulity in his voice. "For one thing, she is going to be accompanying you to King's Landing. It is never a wise choice to make an enemy of a person trained to fight when you will be forced to share their company for an extended journey. More importantly, however, Kyren Asheworth is a ward of Ned Stark - the future Hand of the King - and you just gravely insulted her honor. If she confides in him concerning your behavior, his new position could allow him to make your life extremely difficult."
Jaime smirked. "Considering our sister's position and the wealth of our father, I do not believe I have much to fear from Ned Stark."
"Yes, of course. Considering that the man already despises you and is close friends with King Robert himself, why not attempt to further earn his undying enmity? House Lannister can defend itself against House Stark, but not without heavy casualties." Tyrion shook his head. "You are my brother, but you are acting even more foolhardy than is typical for you."
"I am hardly the only one acting atypically," Jaime retorted sardonically. "You have been in a temper since I first interrupted your conversation with the girl. Should I apologize for revealing your plans for her too early in your acquaintanceship?"
"Kyren," Tyrion hissed, the negligible distance he had to look up to meet Jaime's eyes not diluting his glare one ounce. "You could at least manage to call her something other than 'girl'. And I have no designs on her, as I've already stated. My major dispute is not with your words, but your actions."
Jaime frowned. "My actions? You are a hopeless letch and a drunkard and you find my actions offensive?"
"When they entail pushing young children from windows, yes," Tyrion snapped.
The ever-present smirk fell from Jaime's face as he stepped closer to his younger brother. Instinctively, his right hand dropped to the hilt of the sword strapped to his side. Tyrion's eyes followed the movement and narrowed before moving back to meet Jaime's own. "Ah, yes. There is no price too high to ensure you can keep fucking your twin in reasonable privacy," Tyrion snarled. "Go on, do it. Remove my head, stab my heart, nick an artery. I know how meaningless life is to you unless it comes with a pair of green eyes and some nice tits-"
Jaime's hand lashed across Tyrion's face, the awkward angle making the strike far stronger than was intended. The leather of his gloved hands created a muffling effect, but Jaime knew the blow had struck true and struck hard. Rage suddenly quenched, he said mildly, "You should not talk about our sister in such a way."
Tyrion's face showed an unlikely flash of amusement. "If we are going to list the things we should not do with Cersei, I have several entries I believe are worthy of consideration."
Against his better judgement, Jaime smiled as he moved to stand beside his brother, leaning back against the wall. "How long have you known?"
"Years," Tyrion admitted simply.
"And you've never said anything before? I respect your restraint, but it seems odd for you."
He shrugged. "I admit, the idea does not appeal to me, but what the two of you do is your own concern. No one knew, no one was being hurt… Until now. Now there are consequences that stretch far beyond our family and that is unacceptable."
Jaime paused for a long moment before turning away. "I need to finish the task assigned to me by the king."
Tyrion's voice softened slightly. "Jaime…"
"I will consider what you have said, I truly will," he promised. Tyrion nodded and said nothing more as Jaime walked away.
Arya and Kyren were well on the way to the practice yards, deep in conversation. "But I do not want to go to King's Landing," Arya insisted.
Kyren knew why she had become Arya's confidant of choice. Sansa had been longing for this moment for the majority of her life and was likely to be speaking of nothing else until the journey south actually happened. Lady Stark, naturally, would only encourage Arya to do her duty for the family without complaint. Jon would have been Arya's natural third choice, but Kyren would wager that Arya did not want to seem weak or fearful to the half-brother she idolized. And so the duty fell to Kyren, though she did not find it burdensome. She did her have own hesitancies and perhaps sharing them with the younger girl would help encourage them both.
Gathering her thoughts back to the current conversation, Kyren nodded. "I understand how you feel. It is a frightening thing to leave your home."
"I am not afraid," Arya snapped.
"Really?" Kyren asked. "I am. I will freely admit that I am terrified to be leaving Winterfell."
"You will be joining us? That is wonderful!" Arya's smile dropped. "But why are you afraid? You know how to fight."
Kyren smiled. "Yes, I know how to fight, but I do not fear being attacked by raiders while traveling with the king's caravan." She paused. "Well, I was not before, but I suppose I can add that to the list."
"What are you afraid of, then?" Arya asked, unphased by Kyren's conversational tangent.
Sighing, Kyren reminded herself that Arya was young and prone to asking many questions. She explained, deliberately vague, "That I am not as talented a fighter as I want to believe. That a female warrior will never be accepted, let alone respected. Beyond that, King's Landing itself is a frightening concept. I will be venturing somewhere new; I won't know a soul. There is every likelihood that I will arrive and find that no one wants to spend time with me. I could end up utterly alone."
Suddenly remembering to whom she was speaking, Kyren forced a laugh. "Yes, it is strange to think of leaving, but the fear is a good thing. It helps us become truly aware of how much our lives will be changing. Think about it: in a few months, you will have seen things that the current Arya cannot even imagine!"
Suddenly, Arya's face broke out into a wide smile. "An odd way to say it, but I understand your meaning."
"I'm glad," Kyren sighed, then brightened. "I have a small present for you. Perhaps it will help you remember the Arya you are now."
Kyren ducked into the barn, darted to the practice armory, and retrieved a small bundle from behind the scrap metal bucket. She motioned Arya slightly inside the doorway and handed her the package.
Arya's nose wrinkled. "It stinks in here."
"It does," Kyren agreed, "but I do not wish for anyone else to see your present."
Curiosity sufficiently piqued, Arya obligingly tore the cloth covering from the object in her hands. "My helmet!"
Laughing at the way the young Stark girl immediately placed the metal helmet on her head, Kyren nodded. "Ser Rodrik made me clean the practice armory a few weeks ago and I found it tucked behind a pile of old tack. It took a while and some work with Adarien Graen - the blacksmith's apprentice, do you remember? - but we worked out the dents and polished it up for you."
Arya pouted a bit. "I noticed it was cleaned! I liked it with the dirt and scratches."
"That is the point, Arya: now you will be the one to put dirt and scratches onto it." The girl looked unconvinced and Kyren dredged up a few memories of Ser Rodrik's lessons. "Armor is a very telling thing. If you wore this helmet in every practice session, you would eventually learn where you need more defense, or if you are falling too often on one side. Clean armor consistently worn is a fair tool for learning your strengths and weaknesses."
Arya still looked doubtful, but nodded. "It seems as if that cannot possibly be true, but I suppose there may be sense to it."
"I thank you for your confidence," Kyren said teasingly. "Let me wrap that back up and we can hide it someplace safe."
Author's Note - Wow, guys. I'm practically deaf from the response to the last chapter. So many reviews just left me reeling! Kidding, I got a total of zero. In all honesty, I did a little research into GRRM and his anti-fanfiction stance and am feeling a tad insecure about writing this story. If anyone has some kind words or encouragement, they would truly be appreciated!
Before I forget, I did base Dragon's Tears off a plant native to several areas of the world, locally known as Lamb's Ear. It grows everywhere around my home and has many of the properties described in this story, the major one being use as an anti-inflammatory. It's a really neat plant! I am taking a few liberties with it, of course, but that's your fun fact of the day. Lamb's Ear. Cool stuff. You're welcome.
Thanks for reading, expect an update in roughly a week or so, leave some feedback if you've got any, and have a great day!