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 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 earn me no money.

Chapter Sixteen

Kyren's return travels to King's Landing had been uneventful. With time now considered less vital than absolute secrecy, Kyren and Sotam took a more circuitous route in order to avoid main roads and large towns. With such a length added to an already-considerable journey, nearly two months had passed since her departure from the Stark camp.

At first sight of the stone buildings of King's Landing, surrounded as always by hard-baked ground and scrub brush, Kyren's stomach dropped until it felt as though it would be trampled beneath Sotam's pounding hooves. Despite her firmly confident speech to Lady Catelyn, she truly had no theories on a way to creep undiscovered into the capital city, let alone into the Red Keep itself. Kyren did not know for certain that any of the city watch or guards were searching for her, but they certainly would not stand idly by as she absconded with two daughters of an executed political prisoner.

Tucked into the shadows of a hooded cape, Kyren led Sotam to the front gates of the city. It was late afternoon, the buttery sunlight bright and warm enough that none would wish to pry too deeply into her intended destination. True to her suspicions, a group of guards stood talking to one side of the gate, idly waving through masses of riders, people on foot, even wagons laden with goods. Once every hundred people or so, one of the guards would glance over the crowds, boredom apparent in his heavy-lidded eyes.

As she drew closer to the towering gates of King's Landing, Kyren took a shallow breath to steady herself. There were risks in re-entering the capital city, but she did have certain protections. Sotam's beautiful dappled coat was turned a dull tannish-brown with dirt she had not curried from him and her own bland traveler's garb allowed Kyren to blend in with the majority of the tattered masses. Her defining features - red hair and odd eyes - were both concealed by the hood of her cloak. The grey fabric utterly hid her hair and darkened her eyes from pale parchment to a colorless brown. Leading her stallion was another effort against detection: on foot, Kyren was much shorter than the average Westerosi. Sitting on Sotam's back would have been akin to placing herself directly in sight of the guards. Additionally, her seat was obviously that of one who had been trained to ride. In this situation with so much else to occupy her mind, Kyren did not trust herself to pretend a less educated posture.

Forcing a calm she did not truly feel, Kyren kept her face inclined toward the ground and held Sotam's reins in the tight grip of an uncertain young girl sent to market alone for the first time. She took cues on when to move by watching the worn fabric on the back of the man in front of her, keeping him always in view. Somehow, the constant sight of a stranger whose face she did not know was keeping her grounded in this place, fueling this lie.

"You, there! Halt!"

Every muscle in Kyren's body tensed at the sound of the guard's harshly barked command. Using the edge of her hood for cover, she peeked out at the raised platform holding the collection of armored men. If she had found herself well and truly caught - before entering the city, no less - she needed as much warning as possible.

"We'll be taking a few of those apples, we will," the guard called brashly, confidence in his swaggering tone.

Kyren blinked at him in confusion and fought back an expression of shock when the man who stood in front of her answered reluctantly, "I am to sell these apples at market."

The guard shrugged, uncaring. "Sell the others at a higher price, then. I care little what you do for coin, but consider this a toll. Four apples; one for each of us."

"I apologize, but-"

"No offense was taken, man," the guard said easily, though there was a challenging light in his eyes that belied his calm tone - as did the eager fingers tapping at the hilt of his sword. "We'll be having those apples now."

Kyren watched as the man struggled with himself. From the deep shade afforded by her cloak, she donned a deep voice and muttered, "Better do as they say, boy. Them guards is nasty when angered."

The man started in surprise, eyes searching the crowd for his mysterious advisor, but swept directly over Kyren as she had intended. Jaw muscles working, he returned his gaze to the guards as he fished through the woven baskets lashed to the sides of his mule. After withdrawing four apples, he tossed them to the guard, who caught them easily with a wide grin.

The waiting masses inched forward once more, bringing Kyren and her apple-bearing neighbor that much closer to the guard platform. With the adrenaline-summoning sound of a sword clearing a scabbard, Kyren saw a blade hovering only scant inches from the apple man's throat. She was not the only member of the crowd to whip her gaze up to the guard who had spoken earlier.

Gone was the air of playful banter and laughter. Instead, cold resolve and an edge of cruelty filled his face. "If ever you are ordered by a King's Landing guard to perform a task, any task, I suggest you do so without hesitation. Too long a wait and you may begin to lose pieces."

The apple man eyed the guard but said nothing. The tension between them grew as thick and stifling as the air itself. In the beats of silence, Kyren waged an internal war. The guard was a bully and a coward and she longed to take a stand on the apple man's behalf, but her brain screamed for her instincts to back down. Kyren was in King's Landing to rescue Sansa and Arya, and exposing her presence to men who reported directly to Queen Cersei would do nothing to aid in her mission.

And so, hating herself, Kyren pulled her gaze from the situation before her and lowered her head. She prayed silently that the man would cut his losses and move into the city without further disturbance, but resolved to do nothing if he should choose to do otherwise.

In the moments required for her to debate and come to her internal conclusion, the apple man still had not spoken. Kyren was studiously not watching the battle of wills - and indeed, was beginning to wish that she had followed any other member of the crowd in through the gates - but still relaxed minutely when the guard re-sheathed his blade.

"Move on, farmer. I wish you luck selling your apples." The guard's mocking words were punctuated by the sound of a bite taken from a crisp apple… an apple that landed in the muck under the feet of the throng only moments later. "They are revolting."

The apple man tensed, but Kyren surreptitiously placed her hand between his shoulder blades and pressed him gently into the gap that had opened between himself and the people ahead of him. With a head dropped with the stiffness of anger rather than limp defeat, the man moved on without making any remarks to the armored men guffawing from the safety of their platform.

The gates of King's Landing had passed behind them when the apple man turned abruptly. "I s'pose I should thank you for what you did back there."

Kyren blinked owlishly at him, but dropped her head and said gruffly, "I did nothing."

"I would'a fought those guards and they would gladly 'ave gutted me."

"Those men were fools, drunk on their own power," Kyren growled frustratedly, but softened her tone. "Best of luck with your harvest."

Before he could answer, she had melted into the masses of people inside the King's Landing gates, allowing the crush of humanity to carry her deeper into the city.

Kyren slammed her way into the room she had purchased at the seedy inn where she had elected to stay, ignoring the barely-muffled shouting from the man staying in the next room. She had risen early in the day, ready to prowl the streets of King's Landing. Her first priority was to gather information. Yes, she had counted herself as a resident of the city some months before, but several important events had rocked the capital since she had departed for Winterfell. The more details she managed to gather - even from the dubious rumor mill of the common people - the better prepared she would be for her mission.

And yet, despite her determination, she had now returned to the dismal inn with little more information than she had possessed at the start. The direct line of questioning had perhaps worked for Lord Stark, but it was proving an absolute waste of time for Kyren. Whether due to her lack of power, her sex, or the refusal to part with coin in exchange for information, Kyren had been shunted from informant to potential informant without progress.

Reclining on the thin, lumpy mattress in the room she had purchased, Kyren studied the contents of her purse. Lady Catelyn had given her a handful of coins to aid in her journey, an amount the orphan girl had largely been able to stretch on the journey up to that point. But here in the city, there was no option to camp under the stars. No, a room was an unavoidable expense, and this room was the least respectable she could manage without feeling as though she were in actual danger. Likewise, she could not hunt for her meals as she had on the journey south. No, much as she would try to avoid it, she would require food eventually and it would have to be bought. The idea of stealing food crossed her mind briefly before Kyren's mind provided her with an image of the apple man and the distress caused by losing only four of his apples. It would appear that none in King's Landing could spare their goods, and she was loathe to add to the burdens of others for her own gain.

Shaking the coins into their purse once more, she tucked it securely into her boot and settled onto the uncomfortable pallet once more to lose herself in thought. With all of the factors involved, her coin was precious. She had none to spare for food more than once daily, and she would not squander it in greasing the palms of those who offered information of doubtful veracity.

She groaned her frustration. It was unlike the people of King's Landing to be so reluctant with information. Like people everywhere, they had grievances and ideas of how to fix the world and were most willing to share them. When she had been staying in the city previously, she had known more of the lives of the royal family from walking down a Flea Bottom street than she had from living in the Red Keep itself.

Unbidden, a memory of Shana Dyser rose to the forefront of her mind. Have you been told of Lord Varys and his 'little birds'? … a group of street children he's recruited to discover information…

So, the Master of Whispers received his information from street children, those who were in the background and underfoot, nearly invisible to those who paid little attention. Kyren smiled in her dismal lodgings. She had been approaching the situation in a completely incorrect manner. Commoners were uncomfortable speaking to nobles and those who appeared too interested in what they knew, that was why Lord Stark had been forced to pay for the information he received despite being generally well-liked. Kyren was no noble, but she had appeared far too interested to allow the people to gossip safely.

With a new plan rapidly taking shape, Kyren snuffed out the single candle illuminating the dirty room and rolled over to attempt sleep.

The next day found her wandering the streets of King's Landing once more, though with a much less frantic pace. Rather than rush from shop to tavern and every place between, she meandered, strolled, and browsed, ears ever-listening for gossip. To add to her preoccupied appearance, she wore her traveling clothes once more and led Sotam by a frayed rope attached to a scrap-leather bridle. Few gave the pair a second glance and fewer still attempted to approach - a number which dwindled to zero after Sotam had made his displeasure clear.

As with all gossip, there was much nonsense to sort out before anything of value was gleaned. Kyren had heard a truly insipid number of details about one of the nobles who had visited for King Joffrey's name-day celebration some time before, was subjected to a horrifically detailed description of the breasts of a new whore in a popular tavern, and overheard a number of complaints and suggested remedies for a man's unfortunately-placed skin irritation.

At long last, while pretending to browse fabrics at a stand with a preoccupied owner, Kyren heard a snippet of conversation that had potential to be useful:

"...I tell you, that new Commander of the City Watch is a treat to the eyes!"

"A bit rough, would you not agree?"

"Perhaps, but there is significant appeal to a man who appears so dangerous, so untamed..."

The owner of the fabrics shop at last turned his attention to Kyren, giving a smirk and roll of his eyes in the direction of the two women as if to commiserate with her over their foolishness, but Kyren only gave a distracted smile and moved further down the street. Her brain whirred. There was a new captain of the City Watch. That could prove helpful, especially if he was too unused to the position to be effective. The women had said he seemed dangerous, but any man who knew which end of a sword to hold seemed dangerous to such folk.

Some hours had passed before Kyren found another snippet of information, this one far less useful in a tangible sense but equally as vital to her picture of King's Landing:

"Do you believe he is caring for her?"

"The man runs the brothel where she works. I believe he is 'caring' for her in a very particular way."

"You mistake my meaning. Mhaegan has not been the same since her child was killed."

"You mistake my jest for caring, my friend. She is a whore with one less care in the world. Why should she be distraught?"

"You are heartless, man! Her own infant daughter, stripped from her and killed before her very eyes on the queen's own ord-"

"Do not say such things! Not here, when any could hear you!"

"And why should I fear to speak the truth? Every being in King's Landing has learned of the illegitimacy of the royal children. Mhaegan's only crime was that she laid with the king on his own command and gave birth nine months after. Who is to say she was the king's child? That any of them were?"

"Who, indeed? Not I, not any."

"The queen did! Why else would the city watch murder an innocent child?"

"I cannot speak to you when you are distraught so, my friend. Come, the tavern is the place for a conversation like this one…"

The moment the men were tucked safely inside a nearby tavern, Kyren returned to the inn and thought over that unsettling news. The unrest and anger toward the royal family had certainly risen by an alarming degree since her departure, but as it had worked in her favor, Kyren had never thought to question the reasoning. Now, knowing that at least one of King Robert's illegitimate children had been brutally murdered for no other reason than that they had posed a threat to the crown, this new vehemence toward the boy king was understandable.

The people of King's Landing were rapidly growing to despise their rulers. It was a dangerous time to be in the city, yet far more dangerous for any who were closely affiliated with the royal family. As political prisoners, Sansa and Arya may not be killed immediately should the people perform a successful coup, but they may wish they had been. Physical assault and imprisonment were to be expected, and the young Starks would likely become nothing more than leverage against the power and wealth believed to be held by Robb as the self-proclaimed 'King in the North'.

No, there was no question in Kyren's mind that she needed to rescue the Stark girls from the Red Keep - and the clutches of Queen Cersei - as soon as was remotely possible. Her next step, one she intended to take the next day, was to begin searching out some method of infiltrating the castle undetected. Ideas and wild theories swirled inside her mind as Kyren slipped into a light slumber on the thin pallet.

It was dark.

He was alone and he was grateful for it. The mockery and abuse hurled at him in every moment spent with another human was curbing even his voracious appetite for attention.

Jaime glanced around, a frown crossing his face. Even in the darkness surrounding him, he knew there must be something strange happening. His every thought of late had been of how his skin, hair, and tattered clothing were crusted with dirt and worse, but now he was as clean as if he had just bathed.

In a flash, he understood himself to be asleep, lost in a dream. Rather than wake him, the realization brought Jaime a sense of comfort. This was far better than his filth-crusted cage back in the Stark camp. The only factor preventing this haven from becoming utter perfection was the pervasive, unavoidable darkness.

Even as the thought crossed his mind, a soft glow caught his light-starved eyes. It was dim and far from where he stood, but tangible and real. Jaime started toward it, relishing the unfamiliar sensation of moving under his own power. It was freeing, a balm to the body that had been trapped in chains for far too long.

In the waking world, Jaime's wasted body would never have managed half the distance he covered in that light jog toward the source of the light, but instead, he arrived without even a single gasp or pant. To his surprise, there was only a bird at the end of his journey. It was an ugly thing, squat and fat, perched on a lower branch of one of the hideous Weirwood trees these Northerns insisted upon carving in an act of worship for their Old Gods.

Oddly enough, the bird itself seemed to be emitting the light. Its tattered gray feathers did little to mask the glow that appeared to emanate from the very skin of the creature. Jaime had only a moment to marvel disbelievingly at the sight before he was ripped back into the version of himself bound by the neck in the camp of Robb Stark.

A grinning soldier was bouncing a wooden mug from the bars of Jaime's cage, creating an unpleasantly sharp ringing noise that had jolted him from his slumber. Ignoring his new company, Jaime settled back and closed his eyes once more. It had been a dream. A strange one, to be sure, but a dream nonetheless.

Even so, he could not shake the suspicion that the darkness and its glowing bird had been something more. He had never remembered a dream with such clarity, especially one from which he had been pulled without warning. Still, it had been a welcome respite from his captivity, and Jaime gladly spent the next hours parsing over various factors with a fervor borne of desperate boredom.

Kyren tugged at Sotam's bridle once more, attempting to budge the horse through a particularly thick section of crowd. The stallion had been less than patient of late, especially as Kyren was attempting to dissuade him from nipping at members of the crowd. A violent animal only served to attract attention, but Sotam so despised crowds that he had begun refusing to move at all until the crowds around them had cleared. Already, his reticence had cost her dearly: the only information she had gathered that day was that Lord Petyr Baelish had left King's Landing for an undisclosed amount of time. Welcome as the information was, Kyren was painfully aware that her time int he city was drawing to a close and she was no closer to rescuing the Starks.

"Girl!"

It was just another shout in a crowd of shouting and Kyren did not pay any mind until a rough man appeared by her side.

"You, girl! Where did you get that horse?"

Kyren blinked at the man for a long moment. "He was given to me by my father," she explained, silently sending up an apology for the falsehood - though she did consider Maester Luwin to be the closest to a father figure she had possessed.

"He's a warhorse, he is," the man said softly, staring up at Sotam with an appraising eye. He reached up to stroke the cords standing out from Sotam's neck before Kyren could warn him against it, and Sotam nipped his hand sharply.

"As you can see, he is a horse with little patience for strangers," Kyren said coldly.

"Thirty Coppers."

"I beg your pardon?" she returned, floored.

"For your horse. I will buy him from you." Even now, the man had no attention for Kyren. His entire attention was fixed on Sotam with a calculating eye that raised every one of Kyren's hackles.

"No."

"Forty, then," the man amended. "Surely you do not believe anyone would give you more for him?"

"I care little what anyone would pay me for him as I am not intending to sell him," Kyren said firmly, moving to pull Sotam forward once more.

The man caught at her shoulder, withdrawing immediately as Sotam blew a warning through his nostrils. "Fine, then. A Stag. A whole Stag for you, girl. Just sell me the horse. He is far too fine a beast to be owned by a peasant girl."

"No. Kindly allow me to pass," she commanded, pointedly stepping to the side before giving Sotam's lead a sharp tweak.

Before she could take a single step forward, the man had wrapped his fleshy hand around Kyren's on the rope and was attempting to take the horse by force.

"Stop!" Kyren bellowed directly into his ear, hoping to stun him into stillness. She wished to avoid removing his hand by force as it would as good as reveal her as one who had training, but she would not allow the man to take Sotam from her. Even if it were not for the nostalgia stemming from Sotam being a gift from Maester Luwin, he was her friend, faithful companion, and one of the few beings in Westeros whom she trusted - all despite being a horse.

She allowed her grasp on the rope to slip - releasing the tension and propelling her elbow directly into the throat of the would-be thief. He released Sotam's lead immediately, stumbling back with his hands clutched against his neck. Kyren took advantage of the lull in the crowd's motion and hauled Sotam forward, trying desperately to leave the area.

"You thrice-damned cunt!" the man screamed, ripping the rope from Kyren's hand even as he attempted to throw a fist in her direction.

Kyren braced for the impact. She had experienced a blow to the face, naturally. One does not grow up training in the company of three competitive young men without engaging in the occasional scrap. It was not her favorite sensation, but she knew she would recover quickly enough to regain control of her stallion before he was taken from her permanently.

However, the man was whipped around by a grip on his shoulder and experienced a fist to the face, stomach, and ribs in quick succession. Kyren was left to stare, Sotam's lead still held in her limp fingers, as she stared at the new arrival: a man with wild black hair and a pair of too-familiar blue eyes.

"Wha- How- Tarik?"

Tarik did not respond to her half-stammered questions, fixing his attention on the man who attempted to rob her. "Listen carefully: this is your only warning. If you are caught trying to steal in Flea Bottom again, you will not be left to live."

The man scrambled to his feet, darting off through the crowd with only a few terrified glances tossed over his shoulder. When he had left their sight, Kyren looked to Tarik, who still gazed after the man. "Thank you, Tarik. I truly appreciate-"

"My mother asked that I bring you to her," he responded simply. Kyren frowned. There was no inflection in his voice, no humor in his eyes, no expression on his face. He was not the Tarik she had known.

Before she could begin to voice her questions or concerns, Tarik turned and moved through the crowd, seemingly uncaring of whether she followed. Only a moment later, she did.

Author's Note - Welcome back! I've dearly missed posting for you all, but I've got some scenes I'm really excited for you all to read in the upcoming chapters. Quick note: the timeline of the Game of Thrones series is notoriously convoluted and inexact, but I've been plotting this as if roughly a year has passed since Kyren's departure from Dyser's and a few months since she departed King's Landing (roughly three in my estimation). That's plenty of chances for Kyren's relationship with the Dyser family to have shifted rather dramatically...

Special shoutout to Winter Frostine and my guest reviewer for their feedback and encouragement. It means the world!

Anyway, thanks for reading, leave a review for a heads-up on update scheduling, and I'll catch you all next week! Have a wonderful day!