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 solely to George R.R. Martin, HBO, and their publishers and distributors. I own only the original elements of this story, the writing and publishing of which earn me no money.
Chapter Twenty
"I apologize, ma'am, but I was sent to be sure that you do not enter the Red Keep."
Kyren surveyed the dark-haired youth who stood in her way. His round face and soft-looking body showed a late interest in squire-dom, as well as an overwhelming amount of naivety. She allowed her face to show her disdain. "And they sent you to stop me?"
"Yes, ma'am," he said, seeming almost embarrassed. "Lord Tyrion said to pass on his regrets and to assure you that the Lady Sansa is safe. He would prefer to be here himself, but there are other matters that require his attention. Also," he shifted uncomfortably as his face reddened, "He said to tell you that your dress would never allow you pass as a maid as it is hopelessly ill-fitting."
Despite her own anger and frustration, Kyren could not help but to laugh at that, calmed despite herself by Tyrion's assurances of Sansa's well-being. "I suppose I should have expected him to say such a thing. What is your name? If I am to be insulted, I prefer to know the one saying such things."
"Podrick Payne, ma'am, Pod for sake of brevity. Squire to Lord Tyrion Lannister," he explained with an awkward-looking bow. "But I am not the one insulting you; Lord Tyrion insisted that I relay his words to you verbatim."
"I believe you, Pod. And why send you rather than Bronn? Has he become frightened of me since our last encounter?"
Pod cocked his head to the side, seeming rather puzzled by the question. "I am sorry, I haven't heard anything about another encounter between the two of you."
"Have you seen the new injury to his arm?" Karen asked with no small amount of pride, though she did attempt to hide it.
His expression cleared as he asked, "The kitten scratch?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"Bronn's arm… he said he was scratched by a kitten."
Kyren swore in a most unladylike manner and Pod shuffled his feet. "I did not believe him, but Bronn isn't the sort of man who accepts being called a liar."
Grimacing, Kyren gave a short nod. "Ill-fitting as my dress may be, I still must enter the castle. Surely Tyrion warned you that this would be a possibility?"
"Indeed I did," Tyrion agreed, slipping from the doorway she and Pod were posted before. "That is why I concluded my urgent business with such haste. I guessed it would not take long for you to begin threatening my squire."
"Tyrion, you know as well as I that I will not leave until I have seen her."
He sighed, rubbing with stubby fingers at the space between his brows. "Kyren, you know that you cannot possibly see her. Security is high. It is nothing short of a miracle that you've managed to stand here so long without being discovered by one of my sister's guards-"
"You wish to speak of miracles?" Kyren asked, thunder in her voice. "I think it a miracle that Sansa was not harmed when your nephew started a riot in the middle of King's fucking Landing! And who protected her? Not him, not you, not any of the useless guards you think to threaten me with - no! It was the fucking Hound who went searching for her, and only the Seven know why he had the sense to do so. You all would have left her to those animals without a second thought!"
"I would have you know that I was in the midst of sending men back to aid her when I was brutally attacked by my own nephew-!"
"Sending men back!" Kyren shouted over Tyrion's attempted explanation. "Meaning that you left without her and thought of her well-being only when you had reached safety."
"I- I did not-" Tyrion fell silent and sighed once more. "I behaved in a very self-absorbed manner. I was admittedly more concerned with my own safety rather than that of Sansa and I regret that with all of my being, but I cannot allow further damage to be done. I cannot allow you to enter this castle, knowing that you would suffer much the same fate as Lord Stark, perhaps worse if my sister could manage it."
Kyren's ready retort fell from her tongue as she found herself taken aback by Tyrion's use of the term he had stated to be dangerous when referring to Eddard Stark. It was enough for Tyrion to get a second wind.
"Please, Kyren, leave this place. It is for your own safety. If this can serve as any consolation, Sansa herself wishes for you to leave. She says that she could not bear to lose another member of her family to King's Landing."
"And how am I meant to believe you?" Kyren asked sadly.
"As it happens, I do have a token from her," Tyrion said, offering a thin book bound in well-worn leather. Kyren accepted it with shaking fingers, understanding Sansa's meaning before Tyrion could give his explanation. "She asked that you send it on to her mother. She said that it has long been time for her to leave her childish dreams behind."
When Kyren could finally tear her gaze from the achingly-familiar cover of the book - Sansa's most constant companion in her youth - she could only fix Tyrion with her most solemn gaze and ask, "You will watch for her? Keep her safe?"
Tyrion pressed one hand to his heart and bowed over it. "You have my word that I shall never again leave her in danger when I can prevent it."
Kyren nodded. "I thank you."
Before she could turn to make good her departure, Tyrion placed a hand on her forearm. "I apologize, Kyren, but I am afraid I must deliver yet more unwelcome news. There are rumors that Winterfell has been taken in its weakened state."
The entirety of the Red Keep tilted. "Winterfell? Taken? By whom?" Kyren asked dazedly.
"A contingent of Ironborn men, led by Theon Greyjoy himself," Tyrion told her, voice gentle.
"But Bran and Rickon… They remained at Winterfell…"
"I am told he has likely taken both boys captive, to be used as leverage."
"I will kill him," Kyren said firmly, fingers already itching to grasp for her daggers.
"Far be it from me to dissuade you," Tyrion agreed. "I assume you will stop at the Crossroads Inn on your journey? I will gather any news I come across and send a raven to meet you there in seven days."
Kyren stared at Tyrion with suspicion. A journey to the Crossroads from King's Landing would require the travel of a few days, not nearly a full week.
Tyrion, however, only gave a self-satisfied smile. "You will likely not leave until the wee hours of tomorrow and I assume you will insist upon searching for Arya along the way. I predict your journey will require at least seven days, if not a few extra. For all that you and I never spent a great deal of time together, I understand you, Kyren. Go. Protect this family you've taken as your own. We both know you will never be satisfied with less."
As soon as Kyren returned to Dyser's, she began to pack her few belongings in anticipation of catching a few hours of sleep before her departure. As if summoned by her own snarled thoughts, Tarik appeared in her doorway only a short time afterward.
He watched her in silence for several long minutes before he finally spoke. "You are leaving, then?"
"We both knew the time was approaching," Kyren said with a smile to soothe the harsh words. "I am needed elsewhere and there is little to be gained by waiting."
"I had hoped that there would be some days of peace before you were called away once more," Tarik admitted. "Will you be in danger?"
Kyren shrugged uncomfortably. "There is an element of danger to life, Tarik. You should understand. You live in a tavern in Flea Bottom!"
He did not smile at her jest. "I wish only for your safety. To that end, is there nothing I could do to assist you?"
"Nothing," she returned, carefully avoiding his gaze now. When he said nothing further, she sighed. "I find myself at a loss. What can I say to convince you that I will survive this journey? That I lack nothing I have not lacked before?"
"You could say that you wish for me to accompany you," Tarik ventured. At Kyren's stare, he grew defensive. "And why could I not? You've said that you wish we could have a life together, but you have factors preventing you from staying. Well, I have none that prevent me from leaving. I could travel with you, protect you, care for you…"
Her heart twisting at that last murmured offering, Kyren shook her head ruefully. "Tarik, you have no fighting experience and know little of riding. Taking you with me would almost certainly be a death sentence for you, if not for both of us."
Tarik sighed, raking fingers through his already-wild hair. "You could have just said 'no'."
Kyren set down the pack she had been holding and approached Tarik, smiling as she reached up to smooth his hair back into a semblance of order. "Would it help if I said I simply could not bear to put you in danger?"
"Perhaps," he whispered, fighting a smile of his own as he ducked his head to capture her lips.
"Bracks tells me that you intend to leave, Kyr- Oh." Shana's strident voice reached them at the same moment, driving them apart. "I can return at a later time?"
"Mother," Tarik complained, laughing even through his exasperation. "Your timing is the bane of my existence."
"And yours is to be commended?" Shana shot back. "You should have bedded this girl the moment she returned, but you spent precious days pouting!"
Tarik groaned, cheeks reddening while Kyren could not help but laugh. Still shaking her head in despair for her younger son, Shana turned to the girl. "So was Bracks correct? Do you plan to leave us tomorrow?"
"I do, yes," Kyren affirmed, marveling at Bracks's superb hearing. "As you can see, I am gathering my belongings now."
Shana glanced around at Kyren's invitation, but soon returned her hazel gaze to meet Kyren's. "As always, your stay here passed far too quickly for my liking. Consider yourself ordered to return here when you next pass through King's Landing. Understood?"
"Yes, ma'am, and thank you. Your gracious hospitality is appreciated more dearly than you could know."
"Not only my hospitality, I would wager," Shana added saucily, throwing a wink in Tarik's direction. "But come downstairs. It is the least we can do to send you off with a warm meal in your belly and plenty of provisions. Leastways, Bellin and Bracks will have my head if I allow you to leave without making proper goodbyes."
Though lone late-hour travelers were hardly a rarity in King's Landing, Kyren took pains to remain beneath notice, wearing a freshly-dyed traveling cloak and wrapping Sotam's hooves in cloth. Her clothing was nondescript and all belongings of any value were carefully tucked away.
Even so close to the rough side of dawn, a handful of people straggled through the streets of Flea Bottom. Kyren soon found herself trapped behind a group of four drunks, weaving and stumbling their way across the uneven ground. She was unwilling to draw unnecessary attention to herself by dodging around them and grew even more confident in her decision as she realized what the men were talking about.
"I mean it! The royal family goes running, nobles scattering in every direction- Chaos!"
"I know more than a few who got a good handful of royal arse that day," one of the men agreed with a guffaw.
"None more than me!" one man bragged in a slurring drawl. "That redheaded bitch. She was a real prize."
"Oh, go on, Rechar!" the others jeered.
"That one weren't touched by a soul."
"Always need to pretend you got the best."
"No, really!" Rechar insisted. "She was frigid as the North - at first. She was moaning soon enough-"
Kyren's blood boiled over before she could think better of taking the boasts of a drunken man at face value. Releasing Sotam's lead, she pulled a dagger from her corset and flung it in a single moment. The unfortunately talkative Rechar stumbled once and put his hand to his throat, fingers finding only the tip of a blade thrust through it. He choked, dropping to his knees before collapsing pathetically onto the ground.
In a tribute to their drunken state, the rest of Rechar's group walked on without him, missing the man's struggles completely. The soft thud! of his connection with the street finally drew their attention and Kyren was met with several shouts of rage and colorful threats.
She took a step backward only to ease into a grappling stance as she sized up the situation. Three opponents. Drunken as they were, these were large men and Ser Rodrik had been very clear: multiple opponents were never to be dismissed lightly. Her best course of action would be to escape as quickly as possible. Judging from the body language of these men, however, escape may not be an option.
They began to fan out, but Kyren could not allow it. She threw another dagger at the leftmost man, capitalizing on her right-handedness, and it struck him deeply through an eye. He screamed before falling horribly silent. Kyren, however, had paid no further attention than to see that she had landed a hit before she had moved to the man reaching for her right arm.
Dodging the outstretched hand, she gripped his wrist firmly, pulling his arm taut before striking to break his elbow. He screamed, but recovered faster than she anticipated, turning to land a blow across her face. She staggered briefly, but pulled another dagger from her corset and jumped at him, slicing a deep cut across his jugular before he could hit her once more.
With two opponents removed from the field, Kyren and the last man circled each other warily.
"This can end now," she called. "Walk away and allow me to do the same and there will be no more bloodshed this night."
The man straightened briefly before bellowing out a hearty laugh. "Fuck me, you're a woman!"
Kyren said nothing, though her first thought was to berate him for such an inconsequential response to her offer.
"Rechar was a bloody moron and Gannon was a prick, but Kennat and I have been friends for years. I'd never let someone kill him and walk away." Regretful as she was at the understanding that she would have to kill this man as well, Kyren sympathized with him. Her code of ethics would demand a similar response if she were in his place. Any kinship she felt with him dissolved, however, when he added, "Bet you're a pretty one under all that, too. Think I'll fuck you bloody, then kill you real slow."
Kyren crouched slightly further, allowing her to spring away as the man leapt at her in an attempt at a flying tackle. He succeeded only in grasping at one of her ankles. With one pull, he disturbed her balance and she stumbled, landing the heel of one boot squarely on his face. With a disgusting snap, his nose broke and he began to howl. When Kyren pulled away, she could see his gaping mouth - now missing a rather large number of teeth - through rivulets of blood that were beginning to snake over his face.
As she pondered the best way to handle the situation, he flipped over and landed a solid blow directly to the large muscle of her thigh, then wrapped a hand around her knee to pull her to the ground. Before Kyren could regain her bearings, he was above her, fingers clawing at her throat as his blood dripped thickly onto her face and hair.
With a start, Kyren realized that he did not intend to choke her to death; no, the man was searching for a solid grip on her windpipe so that he could rip it out altogether. Only the slippery nature of his own blood and drool was preventing him from gaining that hold. Seized by a sudden flurry of desperation, Kyren clawed her nails down his face, narrowly avoiding gouging one of his eyeballs. When she reached it, Kyren ground the heel of her palm into his broken nose and he pulled back with a scream.
She stumbled to her feet, but he caught hold of an edge of her cloak, dragging her to the ground once more. She kicked frantically at him, losing all memory of her training in the surge of panic, but connected only briefly with his ribs. Puffing out a breath, he gathered himself and eased up on hands and knees to crawl to her.
A slight rumble to the ground and an approaching shadow were the only warning Kyren received, but she heeded it immediately, curling into a ball to protect herself as Sotam began trampling the man into the surface of the street. When the stallion at last settled enough to nuzzle at Kyren's face, the man was lying on the ground, wheezing shallowly through a face covered in cuts as he flailed about with his arms.
"My- My legs. They won't move. I can't feel them! I can't-!"
Kyren limped over to him, slitting his throat with a single motion. It took only a few moments to gather her daggers from the bodies of the drunken men, but they were the longest of her life. Confident as she had been in her decision to kill the first man, the other three were an unfortunate side effect that she had never considered. Seeing their bodies - twisted in their various, pained positions - made her stomach turn.
They were the first men she had ever killed and their faces appeared time and again as Kyren and Sotam left King's Landing. They made three stops: one for Kyren to wash the blood, dirt, and drool from her person before applying some Dragon's Tears, and the other two for her to vomit. She had taken lives now, and she felt forever changed by the experience.
Author's Note - So, got a little darker in this one than I had originally meant to. However, I feel it's a lot more accurate for people - even highly-trained people - to be affected by the first time they kill someone, and it did seem like Kyren kind of picked that fight...
Shout-out to LunaEvanna Longbottom for my first review in four chapters! You are very appreciated!
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