The Worth of Ash
Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Game of Thrones or any related titles, characters, plots, settings, etc. These rights are the sole property of 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 Six
Three days after Kyren's conversation with Ser Jaime in the Godswood, it was finally the day of the king's departure. The royal family was beginning to gather to their caravan as the king and crown prince donned their armor. For Kyren and some of the others departing Winterfell, however, it was an opportunity for a final goodbye.
Theon and Robb were standing solemnly in the castle's main courtyard. Theon nodded casually at Kyren. "Don't get lost or insult a noble, orphan girl."
She snorted. "Don't allow yourself to grow fat and lazy now that half of your competition is leaving." Despite the harsh words, Kyren and Theon grinned at each other in a relationship as near to friendship as they had managed to develop.
Robb pulled Kyren into an embrace. "Stay safe, Kyren. Visit when you can."
She clapped him on the back, swallowing back tears. "I will, Robb, thank you." She pulled away slightly. "Would you think it unwise for me to say goodbye to Lady Catelyn?"
Frowning, Robb lifted his eyes to the room in which his mother watched over the still-sleeping Bran. "Jon has just returned and it is likely she is unhappy at the moment, but you may try. Perhaps you will tear her from her worries for a moment."
Kyren nodded and withdrew, allowing both boys the chance to bid farewell to Jon in privacy. She made her way down the familiar path leading to Bran's chambers. Lady Catelyn glared fiercely as Kyren pushed the door open, but her face softened slightly when she saw it was not Jon returning. Setting aside the urge to speak in Jon's defense, Kyren bowed her head. "I wished to say goodbye, my lady, and to thank you again for everything you have done in my interest."
Lady Stark stood and beckoned the girl closer. When both were standing close enough to whisper, Lady Catelyn reached out to grasp Kyren's shoulders. "Watch over my husband and daughters, Kyren Asheworth. Keep them safe, and any debt owed will be considered repaid."
"I will, my lady," Kyren swore. It may not have been a formal oath, but it certainly felt as if it were. "Even at the cost of my own life, I will see to their safety."
Lady Catelyn's jaw tightened and she gave a firm nod before returning to her place beside Bran's bed. Kyren stood by the door a moment longer before retreating down toward the courtyard once more. As she stepped into the fresh air and sunlight, Maester Luwin called her over. "I have something for you, my dear."
Even as Kyren objected, insisting that the Maester had done more than enough without giving her additional gifts, he was leading her to a paddock nearby. "Kyren, we are both aware that Dancer will not survive a journey to King's Landing."
Kyren frowned. Yes, her sweet-tempered white mare was several years past her prime, but she was dependable and shared quite a bond with Kyren. The girl did not want to admit it, but she was reluctant to leave Winterfell without her familiar mount. "I have been letting Dancer rest as often as possible and I feel she will be strong enough," Kyren argued.
The Maester smiled but shook his head. "She will not survive," he reiterated. "However, she is healthy and will live a good many years yet if allowed to stay at Winterfell. You need a mount who has not seen so many years and, as it happens, I believe I have one for you."
Maester Luwin clicked his tongue twice and Kyren gasped as a horse came into view. "Sotam?" She had been envious of the gigantic, mercurially-natured stallion since the Maester had first purchased him the year before. Sotam's coat was a glorious grey with white dapples flurrying across his sides and down his legs, contrasted sharply by a dragonglass-black mane and tail. He trotted obligingly toward Kyren and Maester Luwin, approaching the girl directly.
Kyren smiled and patted Sotam's nose even as Maester Luwin gave an exasperated huff. "That horse has responded better to you than I since the moment he came into my possession. I would like you to take him to King's Landing. He is young and strong enough to get you there, and dependable enough to do so safely."
"Are you certain, Maester Luwin?" Kyren asked, still stroking Sotam's nose as he nosed around her clothing in search for a treat.
"Extremely so, my dear," the man answered with a warm smile. "I can think of no better life for such a powerful horse than to be a mount for a promising warrior like yourself."
Kyren laughed to keep from crying. "Thank you. I will treasure his company, though it will be a poor substitute for your own." She turned her attention to Sotam. "You seem to be quite weighed down with saddlebags, my friend."
"That would be the other part of your present," Maester Luwin said cheerily. "A proper traveler needs proper tack. The saddle is new, as are the bags, which happen to be filled with a few surprises."
In a flash, Kyren had ducked between the logs of the fence and was running her fingers over the buttery leather of the new tack. It was more extravagant than anything she had ever owned before, and far better than she deserved. The largest bag held a thick sheaf of leather-bound parchment. Kyren removed it from the bag and flicked through, finding page after page of carefully-written notes, all having to do with the healing of various ailments. Still left in the bag was a large vial of liquified Dragon's Tears and a sachet of the plant's dried leaves.
"Dragon's Tears grow all across Westeros, as you well know," Maester Luwin said, "but there is no way of knowing if you might find yourself in a circumstance in which you cannot go harvest it. If that should happen, I wanted you to be prepared."
"Very wise," Kyren commented, adding with a grin, "No less than I expected."
Crossing to Sotam's opposite side, Kyren rummaged through the two smaller sacks, each half the size of the large bag. In one, she found three beautifully-smithed daggers, each with its own leather scabbard. She recognized the workmanship and smiled to herself as she checked the last bag. Inside was a pair of leather and iron vambraces. The forearm armor was lightweight and intricately-wrought, featuring a subtle design of direwolves and icicles - the proposed sigil of House Asheworth, as jestingly suggested by Kyren's friend…
"Yes, those were given to me by a young man who seemed rather heartbroken to hear of your departure," Maester Luwin remarked blandly. Kyren tensed slightly, but his face held no judgment, nor did he remind her that her own lack of romantic future could be nothing but a detriment to another.
"He is a good friend," she replied. "Adarien Graen is the one who has helped me forge my daggers through the years. He was extremely patient during the initial tests. It took rather a long time to decide what weights for hilt and blade were appropriate."
Maester Luwin hummed in agreement. "The blacksmith has no ill to speak of the boy…"
"And he tends to speak ill of everyone," Kyren finished for him.
"That is not- That it, saying such a thing is- You really should-" Kyren laughed, cutting through the Maester's vain attempts to correct his thoughts.
"Fear not, Maester Luwin. Unless he intends to slight me on our way out of Winterfell, I have no cause to be afraid of the blacksmith."
Maester Luwin shook his head. "Still, my dear, you must learn to speak with a bit more tact and diplomacy, or you will not go far on this journey of yours."
"I always speak tactfully, unless it is to someone I am sure I can trust," Kyren returned.
The man's eyes softened. "I will miss you, Kyren. I have no children and would never presume to claim you as such, but I have come to regard you as a cherished niece or granddaughter. I am proud of the determination with which you work toward your aspirations."
For perhaps the third time in their long acquaintance, Kyren embraced the Maester. "Thank you, Maester Luwin. You have been my family since mine was taken from me, and I am made all the richer for the time we have spent together."
Maester Luwin held her tightly for a long moment before releasing her. "Come now, you had better start back for the courtyard unless you wish to spend time with a teary old man."
A corner of Kyren's mouth quirked up and she rubbed her crooked nose. "Do not think you're rid of me so easily. Robb has given me strict orders to return to Winterfell whenever I should find myself in the area."
"Good," he affirmed, settling a hand on her shoulder. "This is not goodbye, Kyren."
With that, he busied himself in opening the gate for her. Kyren led Sotam from the paddock and into the stone courtyard, his iron-shod hooves ringing out splendidly in the enclosed space. It was a difficult noise to hear above the din of a hundred people and two score horses, but Kyren could hear it all the same.
When finally the king rode from Winterfell's walls, Kyren slung her leg over Sotam's back and pulled herself onto the creaking saddle. The carriage carrying the royal family would go before the king - members of the Kingsguard interspersed between the royal family - and those accompanying the caravan would bring up the rear. Lord Stark had, of course, been invited to ride beside the king and Arya and Sansa were to ride with the queen and her children in the carriage for this first day, so Kyren was delighted to find that Jon would stay by her side.
"When will you branch off for the Wall?" she asked, praying it would not be too soon.
"Sometime tomorrow afternoon, in all likelihood," Jon answered. Kyren made a face. It was sooner than she would have preferred, but Jon was quick to remind her of their luck in the matter. "Remember, I should have gone north today, but the caravan got to a late start. We will make camp together this night, if nothing else."
Kyren smiled, grateful for the chance to spend any more time with the man she had grown to consider a sort of brother. "Then we shall have to enjoy this ride and the chance to camp together a final time."
Jon nodded, returning her smile, and they moved out of the walls of Winterfell with a final wave at those they were leaving behind.
"And that is the best way to build your tent," Jon finished, climbing to his feet stiffly after the lengthy demonstration.
"Thank you, Jon," Kyren replied, careful to put the right amount of gratitude in her voice. In all reality, Lord Stark had taught her to put together a tent when he taught Jon and Robb, and Kyren had used that knowledge several times during outings with Maester Luwin. She nearly ached to correct several methods he used incorrectly, but fought the feeling back. She would not embarrass him on their last evening together.
"How did you manage to avoid your training for today?" Jon asked as they strode further into the center of the now-stationary caravan. "Ser Jaime sounded quite insistent that you would begin on our first night making camp."
Kyren grinned. "We started the journey so late in the day that our journey was affected slightly. The king, his Kingsguard, Lord Stark, and Jory Cassel are meeting to debate our best course of action for the new stops we will make."
Jon shrugged. "I need to resolve a few matters before we split from the group tomorrow, but I will be back in a few hours. We can speak this evening."
"That is fine with me," Kyren agreed. "You don't need help with your 'matters'?"
"No," he said shortly, but smiled to remove the sting from his refusal. "They should be easily handled and I will return. Thank you for the offer."
He was gone before Kyren could say anything further, but she was soon approached by another figure. Kyren smiled politely, glad to see Lord Tyrion Lannister. If there was a single person who could pull her mind from the approaching farewells, it was the short, clever man.
"Lord Tyrion," she greeted respectfully.
He nodded to her, but the motion was directed more at Jon's departing back. "Saying a final goodbye to your lover?" he asked, curiosity without judgment on the rough square of his face.
Kyren made a face. "Jon has been something of a brother to me since I first arrived at Winterfell."
"That does not truly answer my question," Lord Tyrion reminded.
"The answer is most definitely no, my lord," Kyren said flatly, refusing to play the game of debating which part of his query required a response. She paused then. "How was there a question of Jon's role in my life after I said he was like a brother?"
Lord Tyrion shrugged casually, but his eyes remained sharp and searching as he said, "Some do not see that as an impediment."
"They do not see relation as an impediment to…" Kyren trailed off, searching for the proper term.
"Relations," he supplied, lifting his golden brows significantly.
Kyren made a disgusted noise before she could censor herself. "That is revolting. Apologies, my lord."
"Unnecessary," Lord Tyrion waved her off. "As it happens, I agree completely, but there are others who do not seem to share our opinion."
"Is that sort of thing common in King's Landing?" Kyren asked carefully.
He paused for a moment. "More than it should be, but not at all common."
"Good," Kyren asserted. Her parchment-hued eyes searched the camp around them, stopping as they found Ser Jaime. Not only was the knight watching her as well, but he beckoned her to him imperiously. "If you will excuse me, Lord Tyrion?"
She didn't glance back as she strode away and so missed the amused gaze Lord Tyrion cast between Kyren and his brother.
"Ser Jaime," Kyren said with a nod. "I trust the planning went well?"
He gave her a droll stare, emerald eyes sarcastic. "Well in the sense that we may not be raided, attacked, ambushed, or murdered on our southward journey, yes. I cannot give any more details than that, as you lack the knowledge of planning and strategy required to grasp our itinerary."
Kyren blinked at the unprovoked, scarcely-veiled attack on her intelligence. "Did you summon me here to tell me that my understanding of strategy is lacking?"
"Of course not," he snapped, then looked away as he drew a hand over the coarse scruff of his sharp jaw. "I wished to discuss with you the particulars of our training."
Deciding that the best course of action would be to remain silent, Kyren simply continued to watch him fidget, wondering absently if the uncontrolled motions were a sign that he felt guilt for snapping at her so causelessly. "Have you suddenly been struck dumb?" His voice cracked over her like a whip and Kyren fought the urge to jump.
"No, Ser. I was waiting for you to explain your plans for our training," she said calmly.
He was gritting his teeth; she could tell from the clenching of his jaw. "We likely will not practice archery in our sessions. I feel I can help you improve in your swordplay and grappling, but bows and daggers will have to be practiced outside our training."
"I understand the swordwork," Kyren said carefully, "but is the grappling truly necessary?"
He lifted an eyebrow at her. "Your grappling is appalling. You need every bit of help I can offer or you'll find yourself raped and killed on a deserted road somewhere in Westeros - or, if you are extremely lucky, killed then raped."
Kyren studied him for a moment. The Kingsguard was needling her, trying to force a reaction of some kind, but she would not be baited. "That seems accurate. So we will focus on swords and grappling beginning the next time we make camp. Do I have a proper understanding?"
"Yes, and I expect you to be fully prepared," Ser Jaime said. His eyes flicked behind her and narrowed. "Go spend time with Jon Snow. You will not have much longer to be in his company."
Kyren turned in surprise and found Jon waiting near a bank of tents, watching her and Ser Jaime with narrowed grey eyes. "Ser," she said by way of excusing herself and scurried over to the soon-departing man who had grown to be a type of family.
Kyren stepped wincingly into the chill water of the stream. The caravan always made the best effort to camp near running water for cooking, bathing, and washing. There was even a section of the stream specially partitioned off for the women to bathe without fearing the gaze of men. Admittedly, Kyren had distrusted the system and had checked the perimeter before she removed a single article of clothing, and for good reason: she had found two men attempting to peer into the blocked space. It had taken some rather creative threats and the brandishment of her daggers before they had sworn to return to the camp.
After a brief period of adjustment, Kyren could admit that the frigid water felt wonderful against her skin, soothing sore muscles and cleaning out scrapes both fresh and partially-healed. She had been through several training sessions with Ser Jaime in their time on the road south and Kyren could still remember the awe she had felt while watching his swordwork for the first time.
Ser Rodrik had repeatedly lectured the pack of strays to hold their swords as if they were extensions of the arm. Kyren had heard the advice over years of training, but it wasn't until she watched Ser Jaime moving and striking that she truly understood what the older knight had meant. The Kingsguard was in possession of perfect timing, he never revealed a hint of his next move, and his attacks fell in such a wild flurry that Kyren had no hope of defending against them.
She had been soundly beaten during their most recent session just as she had their first and Kyren would have been extremely downhearted, but grappling - oddly enough - was her potential edge over the knight. His swordwork may have been impeccable, but Ser Jaime's grappling was average at best. Kyren's was worse by far, but still, she was trying to plan a method that would allow her to use her limited range of skills against the kingsguard.
The swath of fabric marking the entrance of the bathing area twitched and Kyren tensed, ready for the reappearance of the men who had been so eager to behold the full female form, but instead was greeted by the sight of Queen Cersei entering the outdoor, cloth-walled 'room'.
For a reason Kyren could give no explanation, she was somehow less comfortable with the queen's presence than with that of two letches. "My queen," she said awkwardly, bobbing her head as she attempted to shield her nakedness.
Queen Cersei's eyes traveled over Kyren despite the obstruction from her strategically-placed hands and the surface of the water, and a smirk touched her perfect mouth. "I promise you, girl, you are in possession of nothing I have not seen before."
The derisive tone set Kyren's teeth on edge, but there was nothing to do but continue bathing as quickly as possible. "You have been training with my brother quite often," the queen said in a casual tone that rang false to Kyren's ears.
"Yes, your grace," she said simply. If the woman wanted to learn something in particular, Kyren would be sure she worked at it.
"Surely you have come to some conclusions?"
Kyren directed her frown at the water rather than the monarch. "I have concluded that Ser Jaime is rightfully known to be one of the greatest swordsmen in Westeros, your grace. I hope to learn much from him during the remainder of our journey to King's Landing."
Even without staring directly at the woman, Kyren could see the queen's golden head tilt as she regarded Kyren mockingly. "Is that all you want from him? To learn? I see…"
Kyren remained silent, ducking beneath the waist-depth water in order to scrub at her hair rather than wait to discover the queen's true meaning. She had heard rumors about herself and Ser Jaime, of course. They grappled on a nearly-nightly basis, and there were only so many times a woman could be seen with a man between her legs - no matter how many layers of clothing were there as well - before stories began to spread. Still, she didn't wish to hear Queen Cersei's barbed insults about their training as well. She surely thinks my social standing too poor for a dalliance with the queen's brother, she thought bitterly.
When she finally emerged back into the crisp air above the surface of the stream, Kyren forced a smile at the golden-haired woman. "I beg your pardon, my queen. That was my last bit of washing."
Queen Cersei gestured regally at the bank beside her, where a cloth for drying lay beside the pile of clean clothing Kyren had brought along to the stream. With a faint grimace, Kyren climbed out of the water, delicately dipping her feet back in to remove the mud from the bank before she stepped onto the springy grass. Lifting the sun-warmed drying cloth, Kyren turned her back on the queen while she wiped away the water droplets clinging to her clean skin.
"My brother is quite handsome, would you not agree?" the queen asked, a conspiratorial hush to her refined voice.
Kyren gritted her teeth for only a moment before responding diplomatically, "I have never heard of any member of the Lannister family possessing less than a perfect appearance."
"Indeed? You have met one unattractive Lannister, so that is a falsehood, but a tactful one." Kyren still had yet to turn around, but from the bitter tone in Queen Cersei's answer, she was displeased by Kyren's avoidance of the indirect interrogation. Kyren bent to smooth the drying cloth over her legs and rose once more only to freeze at the feeling of fingertips on her back. "What a terrible bruise. Whatever is it from?"
Kyren exhaled lightly. "Training sessions with Ser Jaime can grow somewhat intense. I have quite a collection of scrapes and bruises." She prayed silently to the Seven that the queen wouldn't ask to see any more. Some injuries were in rather… delicate locations.
The fingertips on Kyren's back flattened as the queen's narrow palm smoothed down the back of her ribcage, skimmed off the edge of her hip. "Such muscle. Unusual for a female."
Kyren's frantic brain kicked out the memory of an earlier conversation with Lord Tyrion and Ser Jaime: ...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…
Hoping earnestly that neither man had been speaking of his sister, Kyren gave an uncomfortable laugh. "It is muscle hard-earned, your grace."
Giving an insincere laugh, Queen Cersei pulled away. "Still, I will endeavor to ask my brother to be more careful in the future. Perhaps I could use a few connections in King's Landing in order to secure you an advantageous marriage, a more difficult prospect when the woman is covered in welts."
Kyren finished pulling her tunic over her head in time to watch Queen Cersei withdraw from the bathing area. It was just as well; thinking of a way to refuse a marriage arranged by the queen was somewhat beyond Kyren's knowledge of etiquette.
It was a source of rather great amusement for Jaime to watch the men scramble from the stream, cupping their cocks and diving for clothing, as Cersei came striding up to him directly. They needn't have bothered as her blazing eyes were trained on him and him alone, but it was a safe enough practice. She would likely have ordered them from the area regardless.
With a rare presence of mind in the midst of her anger, Cersei waited for their semi-seclusion in the men's bathing area before she hissed, "I told you to woo the girl, not beat her!"
"The girl?" Jaime repeated slowly. Of all the things he believed Cersei could have been angry over, the orphan had been far down the list.
"Yes, the girl, Ned Stark's orphan and heir to his guilt charity," she snapped. Jaime's mouth twitched at the insult, but Cersei was apparently refusing to join in on his amusement. "She is covered in bruises from head to toe and twitches like a beaten dog at the slightest touch!"
"Did she complain to you about our sessions?" Jaime asked, somewhat dazedly. He had thought it peculiar that Kyren was putting forth so much effort with such little grumbling. It would be understandable if she had chosen to gripe to an outside source, but choosing Jaime's twin sister for said source was short-sighted, something Kyren had shown herself to rarely be. Nevertheless, he would be putting a stop to that at first opportunity.
"No, I was speaking to her while she bathed," Cersei answered and Jaime's gaze flew immediately to the cloth-concealed section of stream partially hidden behind a curve of the water's path. There was nothing to be seen, of course, but the simple knowledge that the girl was so exposed and vulnerable so close to his current location… it was a distraction, as evidenced when Jaime realized he had missed a large section of Cersei's further complaints.
It was no matter, as Jaime had realized something else his sister had mentioned. "Who touched her to make her… ah, 'twitch like a beaten dog'?"
"I did," Cersei retorted, displeasure at the interruption crossing her perfect features.
"Why?" he asked, careful to stir a bit of disgust into the question.
To his immense amusement, Cersei looked almost embarrassed, perching delicately on a nearby stump as she explained, "It was an attempt to gain her trust. Physical touches usually work for me in that regard."
"On men," Jaime asserted with a sharp crack of laughter. "It works on men because they believe you are attempting to seduce them. You are beautiful, and they do whatever you wish because they believe they have a chance at bedding you. The poor girl was probably terrified you wanted something obscene from her."
Cersei's cheeks reddened and Jaime drank in the sight. His twin had not been naive enough to blush in nigh on ten years. She was a different woman now, and it took only moment for her to counter with, "I would not be forced to gain her trust if you had seduced her as I ordered you!"
"You are issuing orders now, sister?" Jaime asked with an arched brow. "I was unaware. Of course, I also believed you asked me to make her fall for me before our arrival at King's Landing, still weeks away."
"I highly doubt time will allow you to gain her affections. No woman, low-born or no, feels love for a man who regularly causes her physical injury!"
"In that you are mistaken, my queen," Jaime responded with a chuckle. His twin's eyes retained a chip of skepticism and he stepped closer to the bank. "Cersei, the orphan isn't like most women. She understands that in helping her become a better fighter, I am caring for her. Kyren is more of a warrior than she is a woman in that regard."
"'Kyren' now, is she?" Cersei asked with a frown.
"That is her name, is it not? Unless that is yet another mistake I've made?" he asked sarcastically.
Cersei stood, the clear water of the stream giving an unimpeded view of her brother in his altogether. "I expect you will have made significant progress by our arrival at the Crossroads Inn. You will be given your own room. Perhaps you can convince her to share it."
"You expect me to have completely seduced the girl in little more than a fortnight?"
"That time represents the vast majority of our remaining journey to King's Landing. If you've made no advances toward her affections by then, it may be of little use to win them at all."
Jaime did his best to ignore the odd twisting in his midsection at the thought of leaving Kyren to her own devices for… well, for the rest of both of their lives. "Are you doubting my abilities, sister?"
"Never your abilities," she denied instantly, firmly. "You motivation, however, is another matter entirely."
Having completely and incontrovertibly made her point, Cersei returned to the camp, leaving Jaime to his thoughts and plans.
Author's Note - Wow, the Lannisters are in some kind of mood this week, huh? Such divas. I would have thought the goodbyes would be the most dramatic part of the chapter, but it sure didn't work out that way! I hope you've enjoyed this; it's been our longest chapter to date. I'll admit, I probably had a little too much fun writing it! Special thanks to my guest reviewer on last week's chapter. Your kind words definitely made me smile!
Thank you for reading, let me know what you thought, and have a wonderful day!