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 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 Five

Kyren stepped into the Godswood, immediately slowing and taking a deep breath. She loved Winterfell and the majority of its inhabitants, but the frantic flurries of motion that had overtaken it were a bit difficult for her to handle. The entire castle had been in a complete panic since King Robert had stated his intentions of leaving for King's Landing three days hence.

Most of those who intended to join the party on their southbound journey had disappeared to pack the belongings they wished to bring along, but Kyren knew she would travel lightly. She had washed her clothing only the day before and had been slowly doling out her unwanted belongings to members of the serving staff who had been kind to her in the past - indeed, Kyren had begun doing so the very day she decided to join the party on their journey to King's Landing.

Maester Luwin, ever kind-hearted and considerate, had offered to escort Kyren the negligible distance north so she could visit her old home a final time before leaving. Kyren had refused tactfully, never mentioning that she had done so many years earlier.

Back then, she had been lonely, homesick, and had just fought with the boys and Ser Rodrik, so Kyren had crept out of Winterfell late that night and ridden north until she found the small cottage. The bodies of her mother and father had been removed - Kyren remembered that much from when Lord Stark had come to their home in the early afternoon the day after the attack. Kyren had been nearly wild with grief, watching from the trees as the strange man and his soldiers buried her parents, tossed the wildlings into a nearby bog, and combed the cottage for her. 'There should be one more, a girl,' Ned Stark had told his men, ordering, 'Find her.'

It was Lord Stark himself who had located Kyren eventually. She had climbed near to the top of a towering tree, pressed against the grey-barked trunk in her grey, soot-covered clothing. Lord Stark had lowered himself onto one knee, glancing about the underbrush as if expecting to find the young girl hidden beneath. 'Kyren, if you can hear my words, my name is Eddard Stark. I promised your father Desmor that I would protect your family. I failed, but I may still be able to protect you. Come with me. I have two sons who are your age and I know they would like to meet you.' She had not moved from her hiding place, unsure of whether this man could be trusted.

If possible, Lord Stark's voice had become even more gentle. 'Kyren, your family is gone. We have given them a proper burial, but that is all we may do for them. You will not survive out here on your own. Come into the open and I give you my word that you will be kept safe. I swear on the lives of myself and my own children, for whom I do the same.'

His language had been proper, more formal than she had heard previously, and Kyren understood only a portion of what he said, but his tone was kind and she moved slowly away from the trunk of the tree. The branch creaked as she moved and Lord Stark's head had snapped upward. He watched, bemusedly impressed, as she climbed down from her perch.

When she had reached the ground, Kyren stood in front of the man, head bowed, and waited for him to speak once more. 'Did you hear all that I said?' he asked. She had nodded and his hand had dropped to her shoulder. 'Come. I will take you to your new home.'

So, yes, Kyren had known the bodies of her parents would no longer be in the small cottage, but in the dark night, she had tricked herself into seeing blood spots on the crumbling walls and dust-covered floors. She had convinced herself that she could hear the last screams of her parents, and had almost believed that more wildlings lurked outside, waiting for a chance to finish their grim mission. Kyren's visit to the cottage had been brief, and for the majority of her return to Winterfell, she had felt utterly lost.

Some part of her - a part that had been kept secret and nurtured for several long years - had believed that she could simply return to the home she had shared with her parents. After she had seen the structure for herself, Kyren was forced to acknowledge the fact that it was a home no longer. Instead, she was left with a new sense of purposelessness. That had been when she decided that she would travel, spend her life defending others who were incapable of defending themselves.

Kyren's mind was torn from her reveries when her unsupervised feet brought her to the center of the Godswood. She stood in front of the ancient Weirwood tree, and she was not alone but remained unsurprised by it. Robb had long seen the carved face with its red tears as a place of solitude, reflection, and prayer and it seemed only natural that she would find him here now.

Indeed, Robb had been the one who first taught Kyren to pray, seeking any method of comforting a traumatized girl. He had barely been older than Kyren - less than a year between them - but after he had been pried from the older Theon, he had proved to be a great source of solace.

The curly-haired Stark was a short distance from the tree, looking quite young sitting cross-legged on the ground with closed eyes and his chin resting in his cupped hand. Robb was either praying or thinking deeply about something and she did not wish to break his concentration, so Kyren made him aware of her presence in their typical fashion: a slow approach before settling on the ground to his right side. It was nearly a tradition for them. With one of the two so deeply ensnared in their own thoughts, the other would guard them, sitting to the right so the sword hand was free for defense against anyone - or anything - who might attack.

They sat so, a companionable silence filling the air until Robb sat up fully, releasing a breath. If a sigh could be said to have a quality, this one seemed resolute. Robb had come to a decision about something, but that was another facet of their understanding: neither would ask for information the other did not volunteer.

"So," he began at length, "tomorrow is the day you finally leave Winterfell. I know this is an event you have long anticipated."

"You are correct," Kyren agreed in an attempt to bolster her own flagging spirits. "However…"

Robb let her gather her thoughts for a moment before prompting, "However..?"

She gave a weak smile. "However, now that the day has nearly arrived, I find myself wishing nothing more than that it would wait a while longer."

A frown crossed Robb's handsome face. "That isn't right. The Kyren I have known the past six years would be anxious to leave, ready to take on any challenge King's Landing could offer."

Kyren shook her head. "I apparently am becoming less brave as time wears on, then."

"Stop that," he ordered. "Think of this as your first adventure. Haven't you always been talking of having a great adventure?"

"I gave Arya much the same council!"

"And was it well received?"

She gave him a droll stare. "You know your sister's temperament better than to make that assumption."

Robb gave a warm chortle. "I do; my apologies. Still, it is sound advice and I commend you for attempting to impart it to Arya. Will you follow it yourself?"

Kyren buried her head against her forearms. "It will not be easy, but I will try," she promised, voice only slightly muffled from her awkward position.

"Good," he replied simply, patting her on the back. "And if your travels ever bring you close to Winterfell…" Robb paused long enough so that Kyren raised her head curiously, then cleared his throat and smiled sadly. "You know you always have a home here."

Tears threatened to escape the tight leash on which Kyren had kept them, so instead of answering sincerely, she rose to her feet and joked, "I am sure you will be busy caring for your child." He cocked a brow at her and she grinned broadly. "Theon shows no signs of wanting to leave or to make his own way in the world. I fear he will be with you as long as you allow."

Robb snorted as he stood to join her, and the melancholy mood dispersed. "With any luck, he will find a woman to wed and depart for a home that affords more privacy."

Kyren arched a brow. "Why would he want that when this place allows him everything he should ever need?"

"Your teasing holds barbs, little orphan," Robb said with an exaggerated wince. "You have become disdainful in your decision to leave us for better things."

"There could be no place better than Winterfell has been," Kyren responded softly, meaning every word as she unintentionally returned the conversation to a more serious nature. "I will miss it and everyone dearly."

"Your presence will be missed as well," Robb assured her, opening his arms. Kyren didn't often allow herself to enjoy human contact - simply due to the fact that she was surrounded by her betters and the familiarity could become a dangerous thing - yet she felt so fragile at the moment that she stepped into Robb's warm embrace. With his arms wrapped around her back, she was ensconced in the comfort of a fur-caped cocoon.

"Am I interrupting something?"

Robb stiffened at the encroaching voice; Kyren could feel the tension singing through every muscle of his body, but she didn't move her head from where it had fallen on the juncture of his neck and shoulder. She knew precisely who was intruding on their peace and she did not want to dignify him with a response.

"Ser Jaime," Robb growled, treading the edge of politeness. "Is there something you need?"

"Yes, I need to speak with Kyren for a moment."

Robb uncurled his arms from Kyren's body, allowing a rush of cool air to waft around her. Though she could feel the Kingsguard's eyes on her, she kept her own gaze on the ground between them as Robb said shortly, "Speak, then."

"I would prefer for us to have a measure of privacy for this particular conversation," Ser Jaime tossed back impatiently.

"It is inappropriate for a man - even a noble one - to be in the company of a young woman without a chaperone, as I am sure you well know."

Ser Jaime lifted an eyebrow, staring pointedly around the clearing. "I fear it may be too late for such concerns, Robb Stark. If it soothes your worries, know that I have no intentions of embracing her when we are alone."

Robb's fair skin betrayed him as a flush stole into his cheeks at the insinuation. He stepped forward, an angry retort fairly leaping to his lips, but Kyren tugged him back with a hand on his shoulder. "Robb, please do not. I will speak with him." Robb was obviously still concerned, but Kyren patted her abdomen with a small smile. "Do not worry; I have my corset."

Obviously still displeased, Robb gave a curt nod and strode from the Godswood. When he was out of view, Ser Jaime stepped to Kyren's side, extending his arm in a courteous gesture. It was difficult to refuse such a deliberate request from one who outranked her so extensively, and Kyren was forced to place her hand on his forearm.

"Do your conversations with Robb Stark often revolve around your smallclothes?" Ser Jaime asked presently. Kyren frowned and tried to pull away from him, but he grasped her hand and tucked it firmly into the crook of his elbow. He kept his right hand on her own, giving her a warning look as he did so.

Receiving the hint, Kyren left her hand where it was, but said stiffly, "Is this truly the subject you wished to discuss, Ser? I fear I have little time for such conversations with our upcoming departure for King's Landing."

"No, no," he said, frowning at the forest before him. Ser Jaime sighed, releasing her hand and taking a half-step away. Kyren felt as if she could take a full breath at his reduced proximity, but wondered at his change of approach. "Kyren, I must apologize once more for the inappropriate comment I made in the conversation between the two of us and Tyrion."

Well, that was unexpected, to say the least. Kyren took a deep breath, remembered that the knight was unused to speaking to people less important than he and likely had not meant any true offense by asking if she was to become a prostitute.

"I forgive you, Ser," she said with an easy smile. "I understand it could be considered a compliment. But… forgive me, but I do struggle to believe you intended to compliment me."

He stared ahead for a long moment before finally responding. "I cannot clearly say how sorry I am. I was temporarily shaken by your knowledge of fu- of physical matters and the subsequent breaking of tradition represented by the understanding. I became defensive and there is no excuse."

Kyren fixed her gaze on the trees directly in front of her. "I cannot pretend to understand the thought process behind what you said, but I bear you no ill will." She let her mouth curve into a small smile as she daringly added, "I do hope it is an experience not soon repeated."

Ser Jaime huffed out a surprised laugh and agreed, "I will endeavor to prevent it from becoming so."

They walked in silence for several long minutes. Despite whatever thoughts the knight next to her may be mulling over, Kyren's focus was strictly on the Godswood and the beauty of the trees surrounding them. There was little noise in the forest, all outside sound having been filtered through the broad trunks and the springy underbrush.

"I must admit that I have wondered about one thing you mentioned," Ser Jaime said suddenly, pulling Kyren from her reverie. "You said - and rightly so - that your intention was not toward prostitution, but another goal. I have found myself terribly curious about what that could be."

Kyren chuckled lowly. "I see you are determined to test your newfound tolerance for broken traditions. Very well, I plan to travel Westeros in defense of those who cannot defend themselves."

"You seek knighthood?"

Biting back a flash of amusement at the frown on Ser Jaime's face, Kyren shook her head. "I seek nothing but protection for the common people against their enemies. If a knighthood should be given at some point, I would not be averse, but it is not my true aspiration."

Rather than dismissing her immediately, the knight looked thoughtful and it meant more to Kyren than was probably prudent. "It is unconventional for a woman of your social standing - and stature - to seek such a life."

"I cannot claim the Stark name, but I have benefited greatly from their training. I cannot change my stature, but I have been told that I am a somewhat talented fighter."

"I have seen you grapple, shoot, and use the sword, but I seem to remember that you had another talent. Daggers, was it?"

"Yes, Ser. I can demonstrate as soon as there is opportunity."

"Now?" he challenged, stopping in an instant.

Kyren lifted a brow at him but obligingly removed a swath of fabric from its place, wrapped around her waist. The material had been hiding a set of five daggers strapped around her torso in a girdle-like garment the boys teasingly called her 'corset'.

"You have been wearing those during our entire conversation?" Ser Jaime asked, seeming an odd combination of concerned, amused, and disbelieving.

Raising and lowering one shoulder in a smooth shrug, Kyren answered, "The men you brought to Winterfell have proven trustworthy to this point, yet I would be a fool to walk alone and unprotected."

"You are not incorrect," he admitted.

Kyren inclined her head in acknowledgement and offered, "Choose the target."

Ser Jaime glanced around the surrounding forest before settling on a small but distinct section of bare tree trunk, the bark having been scraped away from the rotting interior by some creature or a storm. Kyren studied the target. It was far enough to be a challenge - insomuch as anything could be anymore with her current skill level - without being uncomfortably close to the edge of her range.

Kyren's daggers were specially-made, the blades longer than the hilt, but well-balanced enough to be accurate. With the ease of long practice, Kyren embedded four daggers in the trunk of the tree. Ser Jaime reached out a hand before she could launch the last and she paused obligingly.

"You have proven your skill with a stationary target. It is only a shame we are lacking a moving one with which to test you."

Kyren studied everything in the range of sight for something that would fit his criteria, but there was little to be found.

"There!" the knight shouted, flinging something from his hand.

Kyren had only a fraction of a second to study the target: a section of bark ripped from a tree, roughly the size of a dinner plate, was spinning into the underbrush at a rather incredible speed. It was too far to her left for comfort, so Kyren turned in the proper direction - correcting her grip on the dagger's hilt as she did so - and released the blade. Only inches from the ground, the dagger cleanly pierced the bark.

In a few long-legged strides, Ser Jaime had retrieved the target from the pile of brush in which it had landed. He held it up, showing that Kyren's blade had struck true, marking near the center of the bark. "Very impressive, girl."

"Thank you, Ser," Kyren said as she retrieved the other four daggers from the tree trunk. Though the wood was rotted and porous, the blades were still stuck deeply enough to make removal a challenge. When they were all safely holstered once more in her corset, she returned to where Ser Jaime was studying the fifth dagger.

"Impressive, but I am unsure how useful dagger-throwing truly would be in a battle," he said slowly.

"In a battle, I most certainly would not use them," Kyren responded. "Daggers are more of a close-range weapon often used to retain the element of surprise."

"Still, they are fairly short-bladed, would not pierce armor without significant force, exactness in precision is required, and you are limited by the number of blades you carry on your person," he listed off. "There are many detriments."

"You make a fair argument, Ser, but I enjoy working with them and feel they have merit as a weapon in more situations than one would immediately consider. I believe I will continue to practice with them."

"Very well," he said with a nod, "but do so in your private time."

Kyren smiled, not understanding his meaning. "An odd request. When we depart for King's Landing, all time will be my private time as I will no longer be attending lessons or training sessions."

"Not necessarily," he replied. "I have a proposition for you: I will help train you on the journey to King's Landing. If you have progressed enough by our arrival to the capital city, I will find a promising knight to take you on as his squire."

After a brief pause to ensure he was being serious, Kyren's face broke into a grin so wide it hurt her cheeks. "I accept! Thank you, Ser! I would never have expected such an opportunity-"

"It will require quite a bit of very hard work," he warned, emerald eyes serious. "We will train every night we make camp. You will be sore, tired, and ready for rest, yet you will have more work to finish. Once you accept, I will not allow you to change your decision. Are you certain of your choice?"

"The chance to train with a knight? A member of the Kingsguard? And an opportunity to become a squire for a respected knight?" Kyren shook her head, retaining her smile. "I could not bring myself to refuse, Ser."

"Very well," he said gravely. "We begin on the first night we make camp."

"Thank you once more, Ser!" Kyren enthused before she darted off to finish packing her belongings.

Author's Note - I'm not happy with this chapter, especially the beginning of it. The 'memory within a memory' thing was messy and a bit too Inception-ey for me, but I couldn't figure out another way to set it up without detouring the plot intensely or cutting crucial character development scenes. If anyone has tips (or just wants to tell me how incomprehensible it turned out), feel free to message me. All of that being said, I'm posting this a few days early because I was overwhelmed - not sarcastic this time - by last week's response! This posting is a thank-you to my two reviewers: ZabuzasGirl and CharNinja LOL. Shout-out to Guikoi for an excellently thought-out message suggestion as well!

Another side note: I've been receiving some unpleasant messages from people who take issue with some parts of this story and I would like to clear up a few of the common problems. I do not believe Jaime and Cersei should end up together, that's why I'm writing a Jaime/OC story and have tagged it as such. Besides their relationship being incestuous, they are simply not a healthy couple. Yes, Kyren is 16... at the START of this story. This fic is going to span several years (don't worry, the pace will pick up) and Kyren will be older when things actually begin to happen. As a point of interest, however, 16 was seen as a fairly mature age in the actual Medieval ages and likely would be in GRRM's pseudo-Medieval story. And, sorry for the spoiler alert, but Kyren is not going to suddenly have the ability to have children. This is a biggie for me, you guys. As someone who can't have kids and has a fascination with history, I've often wondered what would happen to me if I lived back then, if I would have a place and all of that. This is sort of an exploration of that, though Kyren is far more capable than I could hope to be in her place. I know the whole 'getting married/having children' thing is a big deal to people even now, but this is a non-traditional story in that sense. If that is a deal breaker for you, I'm sorry, but I thank you for reading this far.

Many apologies for the gigantic author's note! Thank you all for reading, let me know what you thought. I'll see you sometime soon and have a lovely day!