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 exclusive 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 Eight

Kyren sifted through her dark surroundings until she became more aware of her physical presence. It was quiet, she was resting on something soft, and there was another person nearby. She tried to open her eyes, but her body adamantly informed her that the sun was still up and casting beams of light into the room. As her head hurt worse than anything she could remember, Kyren heeded the warning and left her eyes closed.

As her newly-conscious mind filtered back to a more aware state, Kyren could hear a voice, but it seemed further away than she had assumed. The tone was urgent, however, and she struggled to listen and understand even while her body refused to fully awaken.

"... crown prince was attacked by the butcher's boy, Arya Stark, and the girl's direwolf. All are missing and the queen is quite distraught. She wishes you to join her."

There came the sound of a sigh. "I am to stay here. The healer said she needs to be watched over."

"Beggin' your pardon, Ser, but my brother got injured like that when I was a boy. He slept for two days straight. More'n likely, you could leave, comfort your sister, and be back before the girl ever wakes up." The strange voice grew softer. "The queen really is shaken, Ser. I've never seen her like this."

"Very well. Take me to her."

"She is in the main dining hall, Ser. I assume you can find your way? I'm to join the party searching for the Stark girl."

"Consider yourself dismissed, then." The soft sound of a door closing left the room in near silence, save for that of footsteps and someone rummaging through a pack in a corner. Kyren could recognize the sound of a quill scratching across parchment, then came a muffled curse. "Looks to have been written by a bloody child…" someone grumbled. The sounds of parchment being crumpled sent Kyren back under a wave of darkness.

When she woke once more, Kyren could open her eyes easily enough, though keeping herself from squinting around the room proved to be impossible even with the realization that the sun had set. The conversation she had overheard earlier had been eating at her mind during the length of her resting time. Arya was missing, and Kyren could not bear for that to happen without her intervention.

With significant effort and more time than should have been required, Kyren made her way out of the inn, intent upon joining the search party for Arya. She paused outside, uncertain of which direction she should begin. Kyren knew very well that she was capable of defending herself should the need arise, but walking injured and alone into the woods after darkness had fallen seemed a poor choice for anyone who wished to survive the night.

The sound of a horse approaching from the back of the inn gave Kyren a sort of hope, especially as she recognized the scarred face of the Hound. The man had never been friendly in the least, but he was efficient and if anyone would know about the search for Arya, it would be him.

Kyren's mouth opened, but before she could ask about the progress of the search party, her eyes fell upon the body slung across the back of the horse. Dimly, she recognized the face of the butcher's son. She had never spoken to the boy, but he and Arya had become fast friends on their southward journey and Kyren knew his face well enough to be shocked at the sight of it covered in blood - and set in the utter stillness of death.

The Hound passed by Kyren closely, too closely to avoid a collision. He brushed past her roughly, setting Kyren's head to spinning more violently than it had since she had drank the Dragon's Tears. She stumbled and caught herself, but the sudden motion was too much for her delicate injuries and she fell to her knees and vomited. Very little came from her stomach, but the strength of her gagging forced Kyren to press her hands against her head, fearing that it would split apart.

As she knelt before a puddle of her own sick, Kyren heard the Hound bring his horse to a standstill, spitting on the ground. She glanced at him to find the man staring down at her with derision. "If you want to become a knight so badly, girl, you had best grow some balls."

He was gone before Kyren could throw back a retort. She sat in the darkness for some time, attempting vainly to gather the strength to return to the room in which she had awoken, but her legs refused to support her and her head was spinning. Even when she heard a terrible, yelping cry, she could do nothing but stare in the direction from which the noise had emanated.

"Kyren?"

Kyren nearly wept at the wholly welcome sound of Lord Stark's voice. "My apologies, Lord Stark. I meant only to help find Arya, but-"

Resting a warm arm around her shoulders, Lord Stark helped Kyren rise to her feet. "Arya has been found. She is in my room at the moment, as is Sansa. Who told you Arya was missing?"

Frowning, Kyren could only shake her head. "I haven't the slightest idea, my lord. I awoke knowing Arya could not be found, along with the butcher's boy and Nymeria. I could not sit idly by while they were lost."

A shadow seemed to pass over Lord Stark's face at her words. "Arya has been found, Nymeria seems to have disappeared after biting the Prince, and the butcher's boy…"

"I know," Kyren interrupted, not wishing for the obviously-exhausted man to be forced into reliving the events of the evening. "I saw the Hound just before you arrived."

"And he did not send for help?" Rage was the only remaining expression on Lord Stark's face.

"What was that horrible sound before you arrived?" Kyren asked in an attempt to distract him, but the lines in his face seemed only to deepen at her question.

"The queen ordered that Lady be killed in case she should turn on the company as Nymeria did," he said heavily.

Kyren remained silent at that. There was little she could say in response, and nothing that would aid the situation in any way. "How does Lady Sansa fare?"

Lord Stark glanced to her sharply. "I believe you are the first to ask after Sansa's welfare in this situation. It is a concern that will not soon be forgotten. Sansa is upset by the situation, as is natural, yet understands it to be a necessity as an order from the queen. I fear she is most unhappy with her sister, but that feeling is entirely mutual."

"And so certain things remain the same as they ever were," Kyren commented with a smile, then rapidly apologized. "Forgive me, Lord Stark. I do not know why I made such a comment."

"Nonsense," he dismissed. "You said such a thing as one who has been something of a sister to my daughters for many years. But I believe we have arrived at your chambers for the evening."

Kyren glanced up in surprise as Lord Stark knocked on a door that indeed appeared to be the same one she had left so much earlier that evening. Half a heartbeat later, the door was ripped open, a rumpled and frantic-looking Ser Jaime left standing in the gap.

He stepped aside wordlessly, allowing Kyren to stumble in on unsteady legs and collapse on the bed. Curled up on her side, she had an unimpeded view of the door and watched raptly as Lord Stark beckoned for Ser Jaime to step through, pulling the door closed behind them. If she was less exhausted, Kyren would have called out and informed them it did no good. She could hear every word, but her weariness and the ache in her head had struck her dumb.

"It is important to me that you understand what I am going to say," Lord Stark began, voice lowly threatening, rolling through the wooden door like thunder. "I entrusted the well-being of my ward to you, Lannister, and you shirked that responsibility. If Kyren had been injured in the slightest after you abandoned her, I would demand full reparations. If I did not have two distraught daughters sleeping in my room tonight, Kyren would not remain in your care. In short, if I had any option beside leaving Kyren with you, I would never have brought her back here. Is my meaning plain?"

"Yes, your meaning is quite clear," Ser Jaime returned, voice cracking like a whip in his response. Abruptly, Kyren's memories of the man she had met so long ago in Winterfell were brought to the front of her mind. She had never noticed his slowly-warming disposition until she was reminded of the one he possessed in the beginning. "Yet as much as each of us would like to change the situation, we both must realize that I am the best chance young Kyren has at a full recovery. Now, unless you are willing to risk her health in order to prove your point, she needs to rest."

"She does, but she needs something more than that," Lord Stark said crisply. "Septa Mordane will arrive shortly with another dose of Dragon's Tears. Kyren lost her stomach while wandering toward the forests surrounding the inn and much of the draught she drank is now gone."

There was quite a pause at that. "Very well. I will ensure she does not sleep until the Septa appears. Will there be anything more, Lord Stark?"

"No, Ser Jaime," Lord Stark fairly growled. "See that this mistake is not repeated in the future."

Ser Jaime stepped inside the room once more, slamming the door sharply behind himself. Kyren winced at the noise, grasping at her temples even as his emerald gaze flew to her. "Oh, Kyren, I apologize." He laughed, the sound holding a tinge of bitterness in the hush of the room. "I apologize for such a variety of events from the past day."

"I do not believe any of it was done purposefully," Kyren assured him.

There was no real conversation from that point. Ser Jaime watched her carefully, Kyren struggled to keep her eyes open, and both started violently when came a gentle tap on the door. Ser Jaime opened it to find Septa Mordane. The woman entered the room the moment he stood aside and perched on the bed beside Kyren.

While Kyren sipped at the tumbler of Dragon's Tears - mercifully less full than the earlier dose - the Septa kept up a stream of soothing, sympathetic chatter. "-cannot blame you one whit, my dear. That Hound… He is quite the fearsome man. I heard he fair knocked you off your feet when he passed by with- when he passed you. He ought to be ashamed, he ought! A woman, out in the dark alone and injured, no less…"

It all ran in this vein, the Septa carefully avoiding any mention of the night's tragedies. When Kyren's tumbler was at last emptied, Septa Mordane accepted it from her with a gentle pat to the girl's shoulder. "I sent word to Maester Luwin about your incident, but I assured him several times that you will recover perfectly well. Rest well, my dear. I would so hate to have lied to the good Maester."

Kyren smiled at Septa Mordane as she rose from the bed, but could not bear to speak. Her eyelids were heavy and her limbs felt as they did after a particularly challenging workout. As Kyren maneuvered her head onto the pillow, Ser Jaime extinguished the candles and the room hushed into a soft darkness.

"Whatever possessed you to leave the room, you silly thing?"

"I knew Arya was lost," Kyren explained to the ceiling of the room, lacking the energy to turn and speak directly to the Kingsguard.

There was the sound of a sigh, then the straw mattress dipped alarmingly as Ser Jaime settled beside her. "I understand the sentiment, though I hope you understand how foolishly you behaved."

Kyren scoffed, exhaustion and pain making her more blunt than she would have chosen. "Regarding foolish behavior, why did you have me brought to your chamber? It is improper. People will talk."

If silence could be said to be exasperated, this one was. "Kyren, people already talk about us. They say that I am not training you for knighthood, but attempting to seduce you."

"What?" Kyren asked sharply, more awake than she had been since their training session.

He shrugged, shoulders making a strange whispering noise against the coarse-spun bedding. "People possess filthy minds. They cannot conceive of a person who does not think in the same way."

There seemed no appropriate response to such a statement and she allowed silence to fill the small room.

Jaime stretched out slowly until he rested more comfortably on the small mattress. Kyren's small form was almost soothing next to him. They did not touch, but the distance between them was slight enough that he could feel the heat from her skin.

"I have the most revolting taste in my mouth," Kyren admitted in the darkness.

Jaime fought not to jump at the sudden sound. He would have wagered a great deal that the girl was already asleep. He should have admonished her, told her to sleep, but he found himself chuckling instead. "I am certain that you do. There is nothing to be done, however. Anyone who should happen to smell your breath would understand."

She made an indignant sound. "No one should be so close!"

The statement was ridiculous. Jaime himself was close enough to smell Kyren's breath, though he was far more distracted by the faint smell of pine and cold breezes that seemed always to surround her. Even so, he gave in to the impulse and gave several other examples so she would not grow uncomfortable at the idea of any assault to his olfactory senses.

"Perhaps a healer checking your head? A maid braiding your hair?" He hesitated before adding his last example, but Jaime was nothing if not daring. Besides, she was likely half-asleep already and it was possible she would have completely forgotten their conversation by the following morning. "A man leaning in for a kiss…"

"The healer has already checked my injuries, my hair is in a braid at the moment, and I see no men who may wish to kiss me," Kyren replied at length. Rather than wakening her further, the conversation seemed to be calming Kyren, her voice growing absent and drowsy. He attempted to continue the conversation, even as he told himself that it was a simple ploy to send her off to sleep.

"I doubt you would recognize a man who wished to kiss you," he said, amusement in his tone. "In truth, I cannot imagine you've had much experience with such things."

"Presumptive of you," Kyren snorted in the darkness. Surprised, Jaime turned his head toward her. The room was dark, but he could still see the outline of her profile against the faint moonbeams pressing in through the small window.

Unable to suppress his now-burning curiosity, Jaime adopted a casual, doubtful tone. "Is that so?"

"As it happens, yes," she said softly. "I have kissed a boy before. More than once, for that matter."

"Who?"

"The blacksmith's apprentice in a shop outside of Winterfell's walls," Kyren told him, voice faraway, though with memories or sleep, Jaime could not decide. "His name was Adarien Graen."

"Was?" Jaime asked. "Is he dead?"

"Dead?" Kyren repeated, obviously taken aback. "Of course not! I simply do not expect to see him again. He has little chance of leaving Winterfell."

"Ah," Jaime sighed, something in his chest loosening even as he attempted to push away the feeling. "Young love pushed aside. Tragic."

"Love seems an exaggeration," the girl said bluntly. "We kissed on a handful of occasions, he helped me hone my daggers, and we never pursued anything further."

"He made your daggers?"

"Adarien gave me my first dagger," Kyren revealed, and he could see her mouth curving with the memory. "I began throwing it because Theon made a wager that I could not hit anything. When I appeared to have a talent for it, Adarien worked closely with me to craft weapons with the proper blade and handle length, the correct weight, and the optimum materials. The blacksmith allowed him to use the best metals simply because I lived with Lord Stark and he owes the Starks a great debt. I treasure every dagger Adarien ever created for me."

The softness in her voice in the last statement brought back the tightening sensation in Jaime's chest and he cleared his throat in an attempt to dislodge it. There was no effect. "Perhaps it would be best if you attempt to sleep now, Kyren. You must heal as much as possible before we depart tomorrow morning."

Author's Note - So, I really wasn't kidding when I said this was a short chapter, but even I was shocked when I saw just how short it actually ended up being. Remember back when I said I was writing the story straight and only dividing it into chapters later? Unfortunately, that means that I was unable to break this up any other way unless I wanted to leave odd gaps in timing or plot. Sorry about that, guys! Hopefully, the somewhat fluffy nature of the chapter made up for how short it was - though 'fluffy' seems like an odd way to describe a chapter that talks about blood, vomit, and a dead body.

Also, yes, I do play way too much with the fact that Jaime is dyslexic. It's a fantastic way of humanizing a character that is otherwise too perfect, and it's one of my favorite character traits in a canonical character!

Anyway, big thanks to my two reviewers on the last chapter: ZabusasGirl and TheUnknownBookLady. You guys are so wonderful! Thank you all for reading, leave some feedback if you can, and have a wonderful day!