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 earn me no money.

Chapter Nineteen

Kyren entered the room warily, glancing around at the sumptuous chambers with the air of one who expects to be attacked at any moment. And why should she feel differently? She knew Tyrion Lannister, had trusted him, but that was an eternity ago. She had no real reason to trust him now when she was in the Red Keep, literally surrounded by enemies.

"Please, Kyren, have a seat," Tyrion urged.

Kyren ignored the invitation in favor of retreating to a somewhat safe distance before turning to confront her kidnappers. "Am I to assume from your cordiality that you do not intend to turn me over to your sister? To harm me? To see my lose my head as Lord Stark lost his?"

Tyrion grimaced. "The use of the term 'Lord' when speaking of Ned Stark has rather fallen out of favor of late in King's Landing." Kyren stared down at him stonily and he sighed. "Wrong audience, I am certain, but you need to be aware if you intend to remain hidden."

"Hiding in King's Landing is not my intention," Kyren informed him icily.

Bronn gave a hearty laugh. "I like this one. And I've changed me mind; she was not afraid of you in the city. I believe she may have just been looking for a chance to get rid of you more permanently."

"No," Kyren disagreed. "I bear no ill will toward Lord Tyrion. I simply have a task to perform and I will not allow anyone to stop me."

Tyrion sighed once more. "Your task is the very reason I had Bronn bring you here. I will explain more thoroughly in a moment; we have only to wait for our last arrival."

The three stood in a silence that seemed to possess its own heartbeat until it was halted by a soft knock on the door. Tyrion set a thick finger against his own lips and opened the door just enough to put his head through the crack. A muffled conversation took place in the hall then, leaving Kyren and Bronn to stare uncomfortably at one another.

At last, Tyrion said, "I did ask that you trust me."

With that, he opened the door and stepped back. First through the door was a pretty, dark-eyed woman who glanced at Kyren, then to Bronn. When the latter gave a slight nod, she moved aside and allowed a second woman to enter.

"Sansa?" Kyren gasped. In the moment that passed before Sansa's so-familiar eyes searched her out, Kyren studied the girl she had been raised alongside. Obviously just pulled from her bed, Sansa's hair was in a simple braid rather than the more sophisticated Southern styles she had favored since the royal family had arrived at Winterfell. She looked like the younger Sansa Kyren remembered, but such an appearance also brought back memories of Sansa's consistently antagonistic behavior - and that had been before Kyren had failed to protect Lord Stark.

Without waiting for the female Stark to acknowledge her presence, Kyren knelt in front of her. "Lady Sansa, I offer you my life. I failed to protect your father or your family. If you should decide it is right to kill me, I fully expect you shall do so."

Kyren waited in the silent room, head lowered in a way that was designed to offer her neck if Sansa chose, but she felt the slight movements in the air as Sansa lowered herself to Kyren's level, grasping her hands to pull her to her feet once more.

When both stood, Sansa surveyed Kyren with warm blue Tully eyes and said, "I understand what happened then. You were only doing as my father thought best. You were given orders, and you are guilty of nothing more than following them."

Kyren squeezed Sansa's hands before they drew apart. "I have been given new orders. Your mother demands that I bring you back to her."

Sansa glanced over her shoulder at Tyrion, who seemed to be in deep conversation with Bronn and the woman, but they were still easily within earshot. She drew Kyren farther into the chambers until they could settle into well-padded chairs placed around a table with an ornate bottle of alcohol in its center.

"I cannot return with you, Kyren." With a slender hand raised, she halted Kyren's protests. "I know Robb's armies are working their way South and they are predicted to reach King's Landing within two years. This city is mighty and its citizens strong, but if I remain here, I may be able to lessen the resistance Robb encounters. That is of far more importance than leaving."

"I understand your logic and I applaud your sense of purpose, but this is an incredibly poor choice," Kyren argued. "You will be used as a hostage and a deterrent long before Robb arrives at King's Landing."

"Doubtful," Sansa said coolly, kicking up her chin. She had never looked so much like Lady Catelyn as she did in that moment. "Despite all that has happened, I am still set to be wedded to Joffrey."

"That is a problem as well," Kyren interjected, but Sansa ignored her.

"As queen, I will have the means to give my own orders and have them followed to the letter. The very moment I become queen, I shall plant spies and loyal parties throughout the city. Even if I am locked away, Robb shall never lack the help he needs." She leaned forward, catching Kyren's gaze with her own. "I cannot return North, knowing that I could have assisted my brother and did not. I am weary of running away like a frightened child whenever I face opposition. You are lovely for being concerned, but my mind is quite made up."

"With all respect, my lady, I have had this conversation once before when I was attempting to urge your father to flee King's Landing." There was a flash of sorrow in Sansa's blue eyes and Kyren felt an answering twinge of guilt, but pressed onward. "I shall forever regret not attempting to convince him further, but I would long for death if a similar thing happened now and I had failed to learn from the first instance. Please, Lady Sansa, leave this place behind you and return home to your family. Robb is clever and the North is strong. They can win this war even without your help."

"But not without far too much bloodshed," Sansa argued. "And while the topic is brought to the forefront, there is no means of escape from the Red Keep, not for two women of high profile. Never believe that the queen has stopped searching for you as well. It is far better that you leave and tell my mother of my choice. Tell her that I am honing the strength she passed to me and avenging father."

"Very well," Kyren agreed at last. "I shall tell her what you ask, but what of Arya? Should she not have a say in your rescue?"

Sansa frowned back at her. "Arya? No one has seen Arya since the day my father was captured."

They sat in a charged silence for a long moment, both lost in their own thoughts and realizations. Abruptly, Sansa's voice lowered, becoming more urgent. "Kyren, listen to me. You must not search for Arya."

"My lady!" Kyren said, shocked. How could Sansa suggest such a thing, especially concerning her own sister?

"No, Kyren, you misunderstand. I want Arya safe as much as any of my family, but every question you ask leaves a clearer trail for Cersei to follow. People talk, and the queen has many spies."

"She is right, you know," Tyrion said suddenly, appearing at Kyren's elbow. "Cersei would do much to win our brother back unharmed, and she stands a much better chance with two hostages than she does with one. If there is any hint of a lead about the whereabouts of Arya Stark, she would follow it."

Bronn nodded, remarking helpfully, "She has had the boneyards searched twice for a body."

Kyren made a strangled sound and Tyrion hastened to add, "Not that she has found one, of course! As far as anyone can tell, Arya simply disappeared. It is an enviable position for one with such powerful relatives, but Lady Sansa makes an excellent point: with every step you take toward locating Arya, Cersei will be following until she is in a position to seize her and demand Jaime's return."

"I mean no disrespect, but how is it that you believe we should trust you?" Kyren asked. "Jaime is your brother as well. You cannot be pleased that Robb has held him captive for such a length of time."

"I care for my brother a great deal," Tyrion explained cautiously. "However, at the risk of appearing callous, I believe that the insult of his captivity is less important than the peace of Westeros. I do not believe one man to be worth starting a war that could decimate this continent, regardless of whether he bears the name 'Lannister'."

"I do not think you callous. Rather, I believe your practicality is to be commended," Kyren admitted bitterly. "If only your family were so reasonable."

"One could say the same of the Starks," Tyrion remarked blithely. Kyren inclined her head in acknowledgement of his point and he grimaced anew. "I apologize for being callous in truth, but I am afraid that it is time for you to depart, Kyren. If we have any hope of releasing you unseen in King's Landing, it must be soon. The sun will rise before long and there will be far too many eyes."

"Of course," Kyren agreed. "If I could have only a moment to make my goodbyes?"

After the other three had withdrawn to the opposite end of the sumptuous chambers, Kyren turned back to Sansa. "Are you certain of this, my lady? I will continue searching for a way to smuggle you to freedom if you only say the word."

Sansa enveloped Kyren in a tight embrace. "Your loyalty will not be forgotten, Kyren, not so long as I live. Be safe and go well."

The pre-dawn sky was brightening considerably when Kyren slipped through the doors of Dyser's. The room was hushed in the blue light of early morning and she wanted nothing more than to climb the flights of stairs required to return to her room. The thin pallet she used for sleep was crying out for her and it was a call Kyren dearly wished to answer.

"You've returned! What happened?"

Before the last word had slipped from Tarik's lips, Kyren - startled by his sudden appearance - had turned sharply and lashed out with a firmly-curled fist. Tarik stumbled back slightly, one hand pressed to the spot on his breastbone that she had struck so firmly, and slowly lowered himself to sit on the hard floorboards.

"Tarik! I am so sorry! Are you well?"

Tarik blinked up at her from his place on the floor, fingers gingerly massaging the bruise that would certainly form, and began to chuckle. The sound began so lowly that she was uncertain whether it was real, but his mirth grew until he was laughing aloud and the noise of it bounced from the corners of the empty room.

Exhausted, confused, and oddly guilty, Kyren collapsed onto the floor as well.

"I can only apologize, Tarik," she said helplessly, lying flat on her back as she stared at the raw timbers of the ceiling. "I feel I have much to apologize for, but I know not how."

Tarik settled back onto the floor as well, considering the ceiling from beside Kyren as he spoke. "I am in much the same situation. I feel I've been- well- I've been a prick, to be blunt about it. I know how you prefer people to be blunt."

A glance from the corner of her eye told Kyren that he was grinning, that familiar smirk that had always seemed full of joy and contentment.

Unbidden, her lips twitched into an answering smile. "So, in the interest of being blunt, how do we move on from this awkwardness?"

Tarik sighed softly. "I was hurt when you left, hurt and fearful for your safety. I reacted poorly when you returned and I apologize." His voice dropped to a low murmur. "I have never been more frightened as when I saw you leave with Bronn."

"I cannot fight the suspicion that your mother is familiar with Bronn. Am I correct?"

"You are. He has visited Dyser's every time he found himself in King's Landing for many years. He likes drink and women, though he does not handle either very well. To see him with you boded ill for any of a number of reasons. Where did he take you?"

"The Red Keep, actually."

Tarik sat up. "What?! How could he? However did you escape?"

Kyren leaned up on one elbow. "Tarik, please," she urged, tugging on the shoulder of his tunic. "I fear I am far too comfortable to contemplate a change in position."

When he had settled beside her once more, she told him, "There was no daring escape from the Red Keep. Bronn took me to speak with Tyrion Lannister and he allowed me to see Sansa. When we had spoken and caught up, I was allowed to leave."

"So you consider the situation resolved?" he asked. "You are content to leave her here with that terror of a king?"

"Of course not!" Kyren denied vehemently. "I would give anything to take Sansa with me, to return her to Lady Catelyn as I was ordered. However, she refuses to leave."

"What is your next move?" Tarik asked, craning his neck along the floor to stare at her curiously.

Kyren rubbed at one brow. "I suppose I should travel North once more. Lady Stark must know of her daughter's plans and the information is too delicate to be sent by raven."

"I should not be shocked to find that you plan to leave," Tarik remarked ruefully.

"I am sorry, Tarik. We seem to have only just reconciled and I must go yet again." Kyren was uncertain of why she felt the need to apologize, but surely one more apology could not cause any further injury?

"Once again, I find I must gather the courage to be blunt," Tarik revealed. After a deep breath, he sat up to say, "I admit that I hold a very warm regard for you and I have half-convinced myself that you feel similarly. Is there any hope of a future together? Would you even want such a thing?"

Kyren smiled as best she could through the tears which threatened to spill. "Oh, Tarik. You are lovely to even ask such a thing. I think, if things were different, I would have treasured the chance of a life with you."

"Yet..?" he asked with a sad sort of expectation.

"Yet I am afraid I cannot. How would you react if Shana had been captured by a hostile force? Could you leave Bracks to rescue her without aid?"

He allowed the silence to stand for a long moment. "I would want to." His gaze flicked to her, studying every inch of her face. "Gods, would I want to. I see your point, however."

Perversely, his kind manner made Kyren's eyes well. She had been honest when she thanked Tarik for his offer. He would have been exactly the sort of husband she would have chosen for herself if such a thing were possible. She knew he would never seek to dominate her, to steal away any autonomy the way some men did. If things were different… Oh, how she wished things were different!

Sniffling, she pushed abruptly to her feet. "I pray you'll excuse me. I feel that a short nap will do wonders for me."

Tarik stood as well. "I believe I shall return to my bed as well. I found that I could not sleep after you left."

Kyren smiled up at him, grateful for his easy manner despite all that had occurred such a painfully short time ago. They walked in companionable silence to the second story of the house. Kyren gave Tarik a nod and a fond smile before she moved to turn away, but he caught at her wrist, pulling her slowly, gently, back to him.

Blue eyes closed as his face eased toward hers. Dimly, Kyren recognized that he was offering her a chance to resist, to refuse his kiss and leave, but she found that was the last thing she wanted. Instead, she wound her fingers through his wild black hair and tugged his face to hers at a greater speed. He made a small noise of surprise at her enthusiasm, leaving his lips parted when they made their first contact. She soon matched him, opening her mouth just enough to create an extremely interesting kiss.

A sound broke them apart, only to find Shana watching them with gleeful contentment written across her face. "By all means, do not allow me to interrupt."

Kyren blushed, but Tarik bent to place his lips at her ear. "Forgive me, Kyren. I could not have lived if I had not experienced your embrace at least once."

With that, he pulled away, the two separating slowly as sweets on a hot day until he closed the door to his room.

Shana stepped closer, noting with satisfaction Kyren's parted lips and mussed hair. "Shall I take this as confirmation that you've come to an arrangement with my son? Shall you be my daughter at long last?"

"No, no. Nothing of the kind," Kyren denied with a dreamy sort of smile.

Shana's eyes widened before she gave an appreciative laugh. "My dear girl! I never took you as that sort… I admire you!"

Kyren gaped at the older woman, taken aback not only by the woman's assumption that she had lain with a man so casually, but her easy acceptance of the idea! Shana truly was a revolutionary. Shaking her head, Kyren stepped back toward the staircase leading to her rooms in the attic. "I believe I will take my leave. I need some rest."

Cackling, Shana waved her on. "I am certain you do! Rest easy."

Kyren continued to her quarters, cheeks burning with the implications of the saucy wink Shana had sent her before she turned away.

Jaime had ceased dreaming of anything other than the damned phoenix. He had ceased having even the option to move in a direction opposite his small glowing foe; despite the variety of paths he took through the empty darkness, he always ended up with the bird at the end of his path in that logic-lacking way that was typical of dreams.

When he had reached the Weirwood tree, he slumped against the smooth coolness of its thick trunk and did his best to ignore the inquisitive chirping above his head. The phoenix seemed to recognize him at this point in their odd acquaintance and seemed to almost glory in his hatred for it.

With a small ticking noise, the phoenix clicked its black beak and peeped welcomingly at Jaime.

"Do be silent," he barked half-heartedly. The cursed thing occasionally chirped and sang like a songbird, but at other times would crackle and snap as if it were itself made of fire. He glared up at the creature, irritated - as always happened when he was unfortunate enough to dream rather than fall unconscious due to exhaustion - but he was tired more than anything. With his voice lacking any heat, the phoenix paid no mind to the bitter man lying against the base of its tree.

The bird paused its contented chirping occasionally to peek over the edge and ensure that an audience was still present before continuing once more.

So this is how it ends… Jaime thought venomously. I've survived nearly a year in Robb Stark's foul camp only to be driven finally mad by a bird present solely in my dreams. What a legacy.

Abruptly, his mind offered him a snippet of a memory: Kyren Asheworth stood before him, parchment eyes beseeching and gentle. What great deeds have you performed?

It had been an innocent question, no offense meant, but it had cut Jaime to the quick. What great deeds had he performed? The simple answer was 'none'. Somehow, the girl had known his secret malcontent; this naive thing had sussed out in the length of a day what his family still had yet to uncover. He had no truly heroic deeds to his name, no grand legacy to pass down, save that of his most-hated moniker. Kingslayer. It was of no matter, however. His legacy, such as it was, would never be passed down to another. He had no children, none that he could acknowledge at any rate, for their safety and his own. And now he never would.

No! If Jaime Lannister was to meet his end in the camp of an enemy, it would be fighting. The thought was accompanied by a toss of his head and an audible snort.

At the sound, the phoenix stopped its soft noises and movements in the tree in favor of perching on the edge of its nest to peer at Jaime. He studied it in return, admitting to himself that - for a mental construct at least - it was a rather diverting creature.

The long feathers that covered its body were an ashy grey, but the base of each appeared to be red. The color only became apparent when the bird was in motion, giving it an odd appearance of slightly-glowing coals. A cruelly-sharp black beak dominated its face, a perfect mirror to its black, generously-taloned feet. Set amid all the dark tones were the phoenix's eyes, a yellow as bright as the flames that had engulfed it once and would do so again.

At the moment, those bright eyes regarded him with an air of concern - an impressive feat for a bird - but Jaime was far too preoccupied with his own schemes and ideas. It was high time he planned his escape. If he failed, he would force the Stark armies to kill him. He had seen his future in this particular dream, and death was preferable to an existence as a babbling, broken-minded fool. The phoenix's soft pops and whoosh of a blazing fire followed him as he made his escape back to the waking world.

Author's Note - Well, here's another sporadic update! Welcome news, however: this chapter was originally more than twice this length before I decided that twelve pages of plot-heavy fanfic was probably a bit much to throw at you guys. As a result, I have another chapter that will be posted next week after it's been edited and whatnot. Yay!

Confession time! First, I just finished watching the last episode of Season 7. Not re-watching, but seeing for the first time. Yeah, I was telling the whole truth when I said I'm a recent fan. Second confession, I'm a little concerned that my pacing is off at the moment. I feel like things are dragging a bit, but they're going to pick up soon, I promise. We'll be skipping through a lot of Season 3 (too much of the plot happens behind closed doors), so the timeline will get a little shady - I'll probably have more information about that in future author's notes. Anyway, I'm honestly getting concerned about the lack of reviews I'm receiving for this story compared to how many views I see. If this is getting boring, someone please let me know so I can put it out of its misery!

And with that, we're done for the week. Thanks for reading, reviews are love, and have a great day! See you all soon!