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 Twenty-Eight

Kyren had believed that she would be forced from Dyser's after her argument with Tarik, but Shana had remained awake far after midnight in order to speak with her directly. The older woman, never one to miss a trick, had known of her son's relationship with Kyren. Though she was disappointed by its end - and forthrightly hopeful for a reconciliation - Shana insisted that Kyren remain above the tavern as she continued and concluded her search of the boneyards.

"If you are truly in as much danger as you and I both believe you to be," Shana had said, "attempting to find new lodging would be a risk you cannot afford. Seeing Tarik may be uncomfortable, but far from dangerous."

Eventually, she had convinced Kyren to stay, and the following weeks had led to several developments: she and Tarik had an uneasy truce, Bellin had included Kyren in her dispersal of information from the serving girls of the Red Keep, and Lord Tyrion had been found guilty in his trial by combat but escaped the Red Keep, killing his father on the way. Kyren had not wanted to believe Tyrion capable of such a thing, but the Tyrion she had spoken to in the dungeons was far from the laughing, light-hearted and inappropriate man she had met so long ago in Winterfell.

At long last, Kyren completed the last section of the boneyards and was filled with cautious hope as she had never found a match for Arya. There was a slight chance that the young Stark still survived, despite the dismissal of the possibility by Tyrion and countless others.

She returned to Dyser's that night with the expectation of sorting out her next move. Surely Shana would not protest to an added day or two while she planned…

"Hello, Kyren," Tarik greeted as they passed one another on the stairs. They had been pleasant enough to each other since their argument, but Kyren had declined his invitation to continue their physical relationship. It felt too much like he was becoming involved and she was still wary of him besides. "How fare the boneyards?"

Kyren smiled broadly. "Utterly empty of the person I was searching them to find."

Tarik blinked while he thought that over. "Does that mean you've finished at last?"

"I have! I expect to be continuing my search elsewhere in a day or two's time."

"That's wonderful!" he said, and she could see the happiness for her in his eyes. "Will you come to my room after the tavern closes? Not for anything like that," he added, correctly interpreting the look on her face.

Hesitantly, she nodded. "Very well. I shall see you tonight."

When Kyren tapped at his door that evening, she could already feel her face settling into a mask of deep-rooted suspicion but Tarik appeared to have been telling the truth. After an uncomfortable handful of polite questions and conversational topics, he took a deep breath and met Kyren's eyes for the first time.

"Kyren, it should come as no surprise that I owe you an apology. I was foolish and underestimated you." She did not answer and he sighed. "You have been honest from the beginning about what you wanted. I wanted something different and reacted poorly when you did not wish for the same, but that is my burden to bear. Can you forgive me?"

"I do," Kyren agreed, surprised to find that it was the truth. "I do not believe that we should rekindle our relationship, but consider yourself forgiven."

"Thank you, Kyren," he said fervently before giving a slight grin. "And I agree. We are magnificent friends, but anything further is a mistake for us."

"Would that it were anything but," Kyren commiserated, readying to make another comment before Tarik raised a hand to call for silence. She paused and frowned, listening to what he had heard. Soundlessly, she rose and approached the door, breathing into Tarik's ear, "Is that Bronn? Why is he here?"

"I am unsure, but he is going up toward your quarters."

Kyren frowned and attempted to explain away the sellsword's actions, ignoring the chill down her spine. "Perhaps he has news about Tyrion?"

Tarik's fingers on her arm halted her immediately. "I don't trust him."

It was a sentiment with which she deeply, fervently agreed. They stood in silence, listening intently until the rumble of Bronn's voice - matched evenly by Shana's rich tones - disappeared. A few heartbeats after all noise had faded, Tarik ushered her toward the door. "Leave, leave now. I'll find a way to return your things to you, but you must go if you have any hope of going."

The moment a gap appeared between the opening door and the wall, Kyren pressed forward - but found her escape blocked by a figure. Startled, she stumbled back and saw Tarik reach for her, but a wild surge of energy seized her and she pushed once more in an attempt to dislodge the newcomer and escape, but her elbow was caught in a firm grip.

That hand burned through her sleeve and Kyren could do nothing more than stare helplessly into the emerald eyes of Ser Jaime Lannister. To his credit, he seemed as surprised as Kyren if she were to judge by the bewildered expression on his too-familiar face. He seemed much aged since she had seen him last - discounting their one-sided encounter in the Red Keep some weeks previously - and she wondered distantly how Robb could treat anyone so poorly, even a prisoner. She could see his dirt-crusted face so clearly in her memory that her heart ached. How she had hated to leave him behind, even when good sense and basic morality demanded she do so.

The next moment, Kyren remembered what Tyrion had told her: Robb was dead, as was Lady Cat. Tyrion had spared her the details, but it was common knowledge in the streets that Tywin Lannister had used the long reach of gold to ensure a swift end to the Northern rebellion. She tore her arm from his grasp, uncaring that Jaime stood blocking the doorway and further escape was impossible. She simply could not bear his hands on her.

"Are you well?" Tarik asked, brushing his fingertips down her arm in a gesture that spoke volumes of their physical familiarity.

For the first time since the door had been opened, Jaime's eyes drifted to Tarik and narrowed soon after. Kyren tensed once more, but Jaime only called over his shoulder for Bronn. Moments later, the sellsword appeared behind Jaime's shoulder and stood in expectant silence.

Shana, however, felt no such urge to keep silent. Instead, she peered at them from behind Jaime's other shoulder and beamed as she glanced between the two. "Dare I hope this means you two have reconciled?"

Jaime's jaw tightened until Kyren feared for his teeth, but when he spoke, it was with a smile and jovial tone. "Bronn, I believe we have found ourselves a travel companion."

Chaos descended then. Bronn began to laugh heartily for a reason Kyren could not decipher, Tarik began bellowing his plans for revenge if Jaime attempted to bring Kyren with him by force, and even Shana stated her opinion that Kyen would be far better suited to stay in King's Landing where the Dysers could keep close watch on her. In the midst of the arguing and manic laughter, Kyren and Jaime stood silent, each studying the other closely.

As Kyren's patience began to wear thin, Jaime turned to Bronn and said sharply, "I believe we should speak in private, don't you?"

Bronn nodded, turning to Shana with a smile that would have been disarming if it had been worn by another. "How about it, love? Can we have a bit of time in your pub to get things settled?"

Shana sighed, "Have at it."

"Mother!" Tarik snapped, but Kyren stepped away before he could do more. "Kyren, you do not have to go with them."

"All is well, Tarik," Kyren soothed. "It will do me no harm to hear what they have to say."

For all of her assurances, the three did not speak when they were at last alone in the empty hollow of Dyser's. Bronn smirked, Jaime glared, and Kyren glanced expectantly between the two. At last, she broke the silence. "If you wish to present your idea, it would be best to do so quickly. I am growing weary and impatient, likely not the attitude you would wish while I listen."

Jaime gave a half-smile - quite an intimidating expression as his eyes still burned fiercely. "There is little to discuss. We are traveling to Dorne and you will be accompanying us."

"No."

The simplicity of the statement was to her benefit, Kyren thought, but the reaction she received was the opposite. "Bronn," Jaime ordered lowly.

With nothing else to go on, Bronn stood from the bench beside Jaime and stood slightly closer to Kyren, hands inching toward his waist in a way that made Kyren's spine straighten.

"You will be accompanying us," Jaime repeated.

Kyren sighed and shifted further down the bench, disguising it as a fidget. "You have yet to provide me with any explanations. Why would I do such a thing?"

"You told me once that life - any life - is better than the alternative."

That was worth musing over. There was little use in asking if he was threatening her. From the clandestine departure and dark clothing, it was obvious that whatever their mission, it was to remain secret at all costs. Neither man would hesitate to remove the threat that she had presented.

However, she could not keep the tightness from her voice as she replied, "The girl who said that is dead. She died several times through the past five years. I believe I will need a better reason."

"Do you truly wish for me to kill you?" Jaime asked with a pretty frown. "I do not know that I could. Bronn, however, would find little difficulty in such an action."

Kyren glanced to Bronn at that. The sellsword gave a shrug. "Not that I would enjoy it, mind."

"Are you certain?" she asked skeptically. "Because, as I remember it, you have a score to settle. Something about a kitten scratch?"

He rubbed at his arm and gave a hard smile. "True enough, but only the worst sellswords kill for revenge." Kyren stared, taken aback by his unexpected show of conscience, but he only eyed her with a cold sort of menace. "The good ones find some cunt or another to pay for the job."

Moving a touch further down the bench, Kyren angled herself to be in a better position should Bronn attempt to act. She had a dagger within reach and could grasp it in a half-heartbeat if he so much as glanced away...

Jaime propped his chin on his hand to stare at her more intently and - even as she cursed herself for the weakness - Kyren could not help but meet his emerald gaze. In a longsuffering tone, he said, "Difficult as it is for me to believe that spending a fortnight in my presence is insufficient incentive, allow me to sweeten the offer: if you accompany us to Dorne and help us in retrieving my… niece… I will allow you to speak - speak only, mind you - with Arya Stark."

It was a low blow, Jaime readily admitted, but he could not allow Bronn to kill Kyren or vice versa. Even as he made the offer, his stomach dropped at the surge of hope on Kyren's face. She wiped it clear in the next moment, but not soon enough; he had seen and knew his lure had been swallowed.

"You do not have Arya," she said, the false bravado in her voice wavering so greatly that it was nearly a question. "You only had Sansa and she's long since escaped."

"Yes, she did," Jaime agreed through gritted teeth. He did not believe Sansa Stark capable of killing Joffrey - though she had more reason to hate him than most - but Jaime's failure to recapture her had been another wedge driven between Cersei and himself. "But then, Arya was never given such an opportunity."

Kyren's face was a sight. She looked hopeful, fearful, and lost all at once. Jaime almost found it easier to look at Bronn as he lied, thought Bronn's expression of tolerant amusement was grating enough to prevent him from doing so.

"Yes, she has remained locked away since the time of her father's death. She was far too full of threats and violence… at first. Now, she grows silent, listless." Jaime ground the axe of his words a tad deeper with the expertise of a career woodsman. "I had hoped that a visit from you would be sufficient to return her to herself, but perhaps it is better to keep her as she is: utterly without hope."

He fell silent then, allowing the warning in his words to echo in Kyren's mind. Expressions battled across her transparent face, brows dancing as her lips twitched in half-muttered speculations.

"Very well," she agreed eventually, wariness coating her words. "For your guarantee of a visit with Arya - and your promise that I will escape the Keep unharmed - I will accompany you to Dorne."

"Naturally," he replied. "I swear it on my honor as a member of the Kingsguard."

To his shock, Kyren snorted loudly. "You'll have to excuse me if I do not accept any vow on behalf of your honor."

Bronn laughed aloud, the traitor, while Jaime stared at her with a sick feeling in the bottom of his stomach. He had fallen so far in her estimation, then? "Very well. What vow could I make that you would believe?"

She thought for a moment before a wicked gleam appeared in those so-familiar witch's eyes. "Swear it behalf of the Queen." Jaime frowned, his mind offering him an image of Queen Margaery before Kyren smirked and corrected, "Oh, Cersei is not the Queen anymore, is she? My apologies. Swear it on your sister, then. Your love for her."

This time, Bronn gave an outright guffaw, a fitting tune for the most shamed Jaime had felt in a long while. With a surge of temper for the naively harsh judgement, he gritted out, "I swear on my love for my sister that I will accompany you to see Arya and escort you safely from the Red Keep."

She eyed him solemnly before giving a shallow nod and rising to her feet. "Very well. When do we depart?"

Jaime cleared his throat, attempting to regain his sense of control. "We leave for the port now. We shall wait for you to pack."

She wanted to argue. He could see that much in her eyes, but Kyren remained silent as she left the room - careful to keep them both in view until she turned the last corner.

"I like her more than I remembered," Bronn said with a low laugh.

"Yes, I could tell," Jaime said dryly. "Go guard the stairs to her room. I do not trust that she and that boy have no plans to spirit her away."

Secreted away in a corner between a barrel and a stack of roughly-coiled rope, Kyren unleashed a series of the worst swears she had already been taught by the sailors of this voyage. It was undignified and crass, but she relished the feel of each vulgar word, imagining them flying from her lips to sting the golden ears of Ser Jaime Lannister.

She had agreed to travel with him and Bronn - the reason behind their voyage to Dorne still a complete mystery - but had yet to understand why the knight seemed intent upon making the experience a misery for Kyren. The voyage from Blackwater Bay to Sunspear would require little more than two days, and their ship had departed the Blackwater as the sun rose on the same day that was currently ending in a blaze of yellow and orange reflected on rolling waves. Still, scarcely a full hour had passed in which Jaime had not sought her out; for what purpose, she did not know.

Footsteps. Those were footsteps she had been hearing, but the odd hollow sound of boots on thin wooden floors made any tread difficult to recognize. With any luck, it was a wayward sailor or Bronn or even a ghost haunting the creaking underbelly of the ship.

Kyren waited, not even daring to breathe for fear of giving her position away, but a low chuckle confirmed the identity she had feared.

"Clever choice of seat, but you do know that we've hired the whole ship? No need to spend the voyage in such a place."

With a few more hollow footsteps, Jaime rounded into sight around the barrel Kyren sat beside. "I would spend the voyage in silent solitude, had I the choice."

"It is not so large a ship that we may all be blessed with silent solitude," Jaime replied with a shrug. "And surely you did not think you could hide here? Your hair quite gives you away." Before Kyren could move away, he had reached for her and tugged one of the short strands before her face. "I will say that the eye does not enjoy dwelling on this hideous cut."

Kyren slapped his hand away and glared up at him.

To her dismay, he began to laugh, the lines on his face only serving to make him more handsome. "Such a fierce little thing you are! With those eyes in this gloom, you look almost like a-"

He fell suddenly, awkwardly silent and Kyren managed to speak past the lump in her throat to ask, "Like a-? A what?" He made no attempt to answer and she nodded to herself. "Like a wolf, you were going to say? Yes, I am a wolf. Perhaps not by blood, but certainly by loyalty."

"I could never forget that," he said, sketching a bow in her direction. Kyren tried to remain unaffected by the charming gesture, but lost a bit of composure when he looked up at her with compassion in his eyes. "I am sorry."

"Why would you be?" she whispered and was sorry for it; the softness of her voice created a false intimacy in the dim hall, lit only by a single swaying lantern and warmed by their words. She shook her head, asking more firmly, "He bested you on multiple occasions. He will be remembered as a green boy, yet a master strategist. He won against the fearsome Lannisters who killed him only through trickery and deceit."

"Two of my father's most notable skills, I'm afraid," Jaime replied with a soft smile instead of growing enraged as Kyren had hoped. She wanted suddenly, fervently, to throw him off-guard.

"You have hidden a hand inside your sleeve since we left King's Landing. Have you gained a sudden desire to mimic Varys?"

"No such thing," he said with a forlorn sort of wink. "I simply did not wish for you to become intimidated. As you can see, I am wearing my wealth almost literally on my sleeve."

He withdrew his arm from a fold of his tunic and Kyren's breath halted at the sight of a well-formed but rigidly-wrought metal hand. When she could finally look away, her gaze met Jaime's and she whispered, "Robb did not do that."

"Such faith," Jaime smirked. "Why? He did lock me in a cage for the better part of a year, chained in my own filth."

Kyren shook her head. "If Robb had wished to kill you, he would have. Whoever did that to you wanted you to die slowly, a little with every passing day. They hated you enough that their aim was for you to wish you were dead."

"This may shock you, but I was far from willing to give in to death," Jaime said icily. "Why would I wish I were dead?"

"You are the Kingslayer," she explained slowly, "famous for your sword-fighting prowess, but now it is gone."

Jaime laughed and it was such a cold, glittering sound that Kyren's eyes darted back to his face - when had she looked away? - and could see the cruelty in his expression. "And yet here I stand, crippled and useless, but alive. Your precious Robb lost his head and had that of his direwolf sewn on in its place."

She had known he would lash out. She had read it in his face, the pitch of his voice, but she had still been unprepared for the hate-filled outburst and felt herself blanch. She turned her face into the darkness between the coils of rope and the wall of the ship in an attempt to hide it, but she could hear Jaime's regretful sigh.

"I apologize, Kyren-"

"You always say that," she retorted, savagely glad at the shock on his face. "You say these cruel, terrible things and apologize when the reaction causes you guilt. Your lack of control is not my concern, and I would thank you to direct your poison elsewhere." She moved to stand, but he blocked her way, eyes flicking over her face.

"I am sorry."

"Why?" she asked before she could think better of it.

Frustration flashed across Jaime's face as he pushed away to sit on the swaying staircase that led up to the main deck. "What do you want from me?"

Kyren stood, but remained close to the wall, uncertain of how to respond. Eventually, she offered, "You sought me out. I should be asking the same of you."

"I had hoped- hoped we could be friends. As we were once." He glanced at her, uncertainty in his manner. "Were we not?"

"When your father ordered you to bring me to him as additional leverage to use against the Starks?"

He laughed humorlessly. "No, before that."

It was Kyren's turn to sigh as she took a step closer to the staircase. "We were friends," she confirmed. "At the least, I like to believe we were."

He did not look up at her again, but the furrow between his brows eased.

Kyren moved to sit beside him on the narrow staircase. "I loved Robb," she said bluntly, watching the tension return to Jaime's face and posture, but continued regardless. "We were companions from a young age. Everyone speaks of Ned Stark and his pack of strays. The man collected people, ones cast aside by the world. Robb was going to be just the same. He was to be Lord of Winterfell, Warden of the North just as his father before him and yet his closest friend was his father's bastard. He found an ally in Theon Greyjoy, the son of a rebel against the throne. My family was painfully poor and we lived so far north that we could be considered Wildlings, but Robb treated me as a sister.

"I loved him and it enrages me that he and his wife will never see their child born. They will never announce their love to her parents, never tell Arya and Sansa that Robb wedded, never hold each other close and watch their son take his first steps. Everything they had, everything they would ever have, was stolen away from them because there was no other way the south could find to best him."

Jaime's head dropped closer to his knees as he admitted, "I had not known that the woman was with child."

"I have it on good authority that she was attacked first, stabbed in the stomach. If you did not know, you are the only one." Kyren could not keep the sorrow from her voice. She did not try.

"I am sorry." This whispered apology held more sincerity than anything the knight had ever said to Kyren.

"I do not understand why. I loved Robb, but he was your enemy. Why should you be sorry that an enemy is dead?"

Jaime paused for a long moment. "I am not sorry that he is dead, but I am sorry for the pain that his death caused you."

Kyren nodded solemnly. "Thank you, I appreciate that. It is a wonderful sentiment from a friend."

She did not look at him, but Kyren could feel the light of his smile as he bumped her shoulder with his own. In an attempt to take advantage of his good humor, she asked, "Will you ever tell me what is so important in Dorne?"

His smile faded slowly. "I cannot. It is a matter of some delicacy and danger. Not only to us, but to those in King's Landing as well."

"I would never ask you to betray the safety of your son."

The last word fell like a stone into the suddenly tomb-like quiet of the lower deck. Kyren wondered for a moment if Jaime would bother to deny the true parentage of his children, but when he spoke, it was to ask, "Are you sorry that Joffrey is dead?"

Kyren pushed several strands of salt-stiffened hair away from her face while she pondered his question. "No, I am not. From all that I've heard, he was quite mad. However, I am sorry for the pain that his death caused you."

Jaime smiled over at her and the brilliance of it was difficult to bear in the gloom of the ship's underbelly. She found herself taking the flesh-and-blood hand he still possessed and pressing it slightly. His smile faded once more and Kyren did not know whether to attribute it to the movement of the ship or something more, but he seemed to be leaning closer…

"Mhmmph, 'scuse me Ser, urchin," a sailor muttered wearily as he stood a few boards above their seat.

"Of course," Kyren said as she leapt up from her seat. Jaime released her hand reluctantly, but the sailor passed and neither made no further attempt at conversation. In the silence, Kyren stared at her feet and told them, "I should retire to my cabin before it grows too difficult to see."

"Do you require an escort?" Jaime asked solicitously.

"No, thank you. Goodnight."

If silences could be said to hold qualities, Kyren would have sworn that the silence chasing her away from Jaime held a note of amusement.

Author's Note - Okay, inexcusably long time between chapter postings here. I can only apologize again and promise that I am taking steps to make sure that such a long gap is never repeated. I was just so upset with the end of GoT that all of my motivation to write disappeared for a minute. However, I've got some ideas on how to make the end suck a bit less and I think I may have regained my appreciation for the show.

Special thanks to zemblenity and lokidoki9 for their reviews on the last chapter!

Again, I apologize for the long gap between postings. I hear that some people manage to balance their lives so that they have time for work and fun. I'm still working on that balance part, but I promise I'm trying! Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed! Leave a review or a private message if you have comments, questions, or concerns and I'll see you soon!