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-Nine
"You're in terribly high spirits considering we're about to die," Bronn said casually. When Jaime glanced over to better guess at the sellsword's meaning, Bronn waggled his eyebrows in a manner that seemed nothing less than obscene.
"I'm about to save my only daughter from being murdered in a strange land. Of course I am happy."
Bronn scoffed openly. "I suppose our new company has nothing to do with it?"
"I cannot imagine what you mean," Jaime denied airily. "And I intend to survive whatever Dorne has to offer."
"Well, if you do survive, the girl is gonna kill you. You promised to take her to Arya Stark and, unless I missed something damned important, you don't have the little wolf."
"While your concern is appreciated, I have a plan in place."
With only a snort to express his disbelief, Bronn fell silent. Jaime could not fight a surge of satisfaction with the situation as a whole. Kyren was with them. He had begun to make amends with her and had gotten to see her at a state less alert than was typical as he had been the one to wake her several hours after night fell. He had offered her the corset he had confiscated before the start of their voyage - thus removing any possibility that she would stab him for his persistence - and warned her to wear it that day. Despite his cheery demeanor, Jaime was coldly certain that they would need all the weaponry they had at their disposal.
Silence was vital as they lowered the small boat into the dark waters and climbed down into it, but Jaime needn't have worried about Kyren. The loudest member of the group by far was Jaime himself. When they at last were seated in the scant space, Jaime felt more purposeless than ever before. There were two sets of oars in the boat and his golden hand ensured that he could not so much as offer to assist the others.
Between Kyren and Bronn, the distance to the shore shrank rapidly until they gratefully spilled onto the chilled sand. With only minimal conversation, each found a comfortable space on the shore and closed their eyes in an attempt to sleep a bit before the next leg of their journey.
When Jaime opened his eyes once more, it was to Bronn holding a sword high above his head, readying for a swing. Jaime flinched back, but Bronn stabbed the ground a half second after another soft plop! sounded. A frenzied glance sideways revealed a large, poison-bright snake pinned between Bronn's sword through its head and one of Kyren's daggers piercing its tail.
Despite the muscle spasms causing the snake to writhe eerily, Bronn picked it up with a wide grin. "Breakfast."
Another flick flung Kyren's dagger spinning into the sand. She retrieved it silently, sliding it into a holster bound to the inside of her forearm with a series of leather straps. Jaime raised an eyebrow as Bronn went about building a small fire.
"I am increasingly glad I returned your daggers before we left the ship, but I do not believe that one was among them."
Kyren returned his stare with a cool one of her own. "I have acquired several new weapons in my travels."
"Travels?" he repeated.
She shook her head, the mischievous grin playing around her lips making Jaime feel a bit off balance. "Suffice it to say that Dorne is one of my more tame destinations."
Kyren refused a portion of the snake, opting to eat a small biscuit she retrieved from somewhere on her person. The knowledge that he had nearly died due to the creature made Jaime reluctant to take more than a bite or two. After watching Bronn gleefully consume the majority of the snake, Jaime called on everyone to keep moving.
They had not passed the wind-swept dunes of Dorne's beaches before they were forced to hide from a group of four Dornish guards. Jaime scarcely dared to breathe, but they were soon discovered. The guards demanded for them to reveal themselves and Bronn and Jaime began to move to their feet.
In a low hiss, Kyren ordered, "Grab me."
Bronn made a half-hearted move toward Kyren's arm, but Jaime reached out to wrap his right arm around her waist. She struggled slightly as they were revealed to the guards.
"Release the woman," the head guard commanded. When Jaime did not immediately obey, he snapped, "Now!"
Jaime slowly released his hold on Kyren. She stumbled forward, moving a noticeable distance closer to the guards. She wrapped her arms around her as if gasping for air, bending toward the ground.
"Stand up, woman!" the same guard said harshly. She nodded, but did not make any other move. He rode forward several paces. "I said-"
His statement ended in a gurgle as Kyren straightened and launched a dagger directly into his throat. Jaime stared wide-eyed at Bronn, who gave a willing sort of shrug and seized his sword. The other guards surged forward and the sellsword gave a swing directly at the neck of the first horse.
The beast fell, throwing his rider roughly to the ground. Bronn turned to give a half salute in Jaime's direction. "Yours, I think."
Then he turned to face down the other two riders. Only one was truly a threat, as Kyren had confiscated the long spear from the huddled heap that had been the first guard and was spinning it through the air with an impressive dexterity.
When the action had passed, Kyren thrust the spear down into the ground and brushed off her hands. No matter how careful she was, there was always blood in a fight. Bronn ambled over to her and began looking with interest at the contents of one of the guard's packs.
Seized with a sudden realization, Kyren rounded on him. "Did you kill a fucking horse?"
Bronn huffed, apparently affronted. "Me? Kill a Dornish stallion? Of course not." He clicked his tongue a few times and a beautiful black horse picked his nervous way through the bodies to snuff at Bronn's shoulder. He grinned, patting the stallion's nose. "I hit the chest plate these Dornishmen strap on them. Lot of noise, little blood, enough fear to make even a brave lad like him throw his rider."
Disbelieving, Kyren studied the horse's chest. True to his word, Bronn had not inflicted the damage she had been sure she would see. Instead, there was only a cut less than an inch long and a battered metal plate dangling toward the stallion's forelegs from frayed leather straps.
"I lived, thank you for the concern," Jaime said, approaching from over a nearby hill.
"I knew you would," Bronn said unconcernedly. "You had a wonderful teacher."
"Shut up," Jaime told him, voice weary. "We need to put on these uniforms."
"And what of the lady in our midst?" Bronn asked.
"I'll do the same," Kyren answered before either could say anything further. After the unpleasant process of stripping the clothing from the body of the least bloody guard, Kyren retreated behind the closest dune to change. The tunic was far too long, as she had expected, so Kyren ripped a wide swath from the bottom and used it to bind her chest.
When she emerged back where the others stood, Bronn began to guffaw. "That's terrible!"
"You are supremely unconvincing as a man," Jaime agreed, grinning widely.
Kyren ignored them both, mounting the tallest of the horses and settling comfortably in the saddle. Once there, she wrapped her head in the same manner she had seen on the guards and drew the end across to conceal the lower half of her face.
Bronn peered up at her curiously. "Somehow not as bad now."
"We should move," Jaime suggested, mimicking Kyren's motions to create a head wrap.
Having already done the same, Bronn climbed on the stallion he had frightened earlier and tapped his heels against the horse's sides. As the stallion set off at a trot, Bronn began to sing loudly and, with a single commiserating glance, Kyren and Jaime trailed behind.
After joining with a string of peasants hoping to sell goods in the markets of Sunspear, the three reached the seat of House Dorne without further complication. Dressed as guards, there was no resistance inside the castle and an overheard conversation sent them to the Water Gardens to find Myrcella in the presence of her intended.
Before they entered, Jaime paused to stare down at Kyren. "Perhaps you should wait outside."
"Perhaps you should," Kyren proposed instead. "Fighting seems to be a challenge for you now when it was not before. Bronn and I will return your daughter to you."
Bronn's snigger made a muscle throb visibly in Jaime's jaw. "Follow me."
"You are not helping the situation," she pointed out to Bronn as Jaime turned a corner.
"I'm not trying to," he responded blithely.
Kyren lifted her eyes to the heavens and moved around him. Her world narrowed to Jaime's back as they moved between the bright colors and lovely scents of the gardens. Kyren would have loved nothing more than to stare her fill at their splendid surroundings, but Jaime walked rapidly and stopped at a moment's notice if he heard any noise he did not expect. Her entire attention thus absorbed, Kyren did not fully understand why they had been halted for such a length until a laugh rumbled through Bronn's body behind her.
"She's made herself at home."
Kyren leaned to peer around Jaime to see what had stopped him. A beautiful girl with his golden hair and coloring was locked in passionate embrace with a dark-featured boy. He was as eye-catching as she, both perfectly matched in looks and pleasingly opposite in coloring.
"Myrcella!" Jaime called, striding forward.
Kyren began to match his motion, but Bronn caught her by the arm. "He was right earlier. We do need someone to stay behind, make sure no one plans to catch us when we aren't looking."
"But-"
"Stay here," Bronn said. "Wish to the gods I could."
And so Kyren concealed herself as best she could among the vivid plants and graceful pillars of the Water Gardens. She watched as Jaime spoke with his daughter, grimaced when Bronn struck the boy, and leapt to attention when she caught sight of three females racing full-tilt through the serenity of the gardens.
She moved quickly, ripping the heavy guard's garments from her. Her improvised breast band rode beneath the thin undertunic she wore, but her arms were left bare. Her legs were concealed only by the tight riding breeches she had dressed in before their departure from the ship. Kyren was unnerved by the large amount of skin bared with the loss of the concealing cloth, but it would have done little to stop a blade and much to frustrate her movements as she fought.
The three assailants used different weapons but seemed well aware of Jaime's shortcomings. He faced only one female using a spear very similar to the one Kyren still held. The other two females had identified Bronn as the true threat, and he was forced to fight off simultaneous attacks from a girl with a whip and one using two daggers.
Though she would like to claim that she had chosen to aid Jaime because he was less likely to defend himself, her reasons were far less pure. Their conversation on the ship had softened her hate toward him, turned that fire into something frighteningly close to understanding.
As Kyren passed by, however, Bronn managed to trap the end of the whip under his boots and Kyren slashed at the girl's hand as she sprinted by, causing her to drop the handle. Bronn bundled up the whip with impressive speed and threw it into the middle of a pond nearby, fending off the other girl's dagger strikes with ease.
"Get the princess!" the girl with the daggers ordered.
Kyren was nearing Jaime and Myrcella then, and watched the female warrior pull her arm back to launch the spear. Kyren grabbed and threw a dagger which was batted away with ease, but the focus of the dark-haired woman was taken from Jaime and his daughter. Kyren slid to a stop and began attacking in the same moment, using every bit of knowledge she had learned about staff fighting.
Her knowledge was enough to hold off the warrior, but the other woman was infinitely more aware that the spear was a blade as well as a staff. She tipped the spear forward, thrusting it deep into Kyren's bicep and she cried out, dimly aware that Jaime had called her name as well. With gritted teeth, Kyren levered the shaft of the spear against the other and held the woman at arm's length. Her strength was beginning to fail her and - with a single thought toward Theon, who had favored this very move - buckled her arms and kicked the other woman in the chest with all of her might.
The woman stumbled back, gasping, and Kyren approached to put the head of the spear at her throat when she heard new steps approaching and looked up just in time to see a new figure in the gardens, clothed much as she had been but in dark colors that helped him or her stand out against the green.
The newcomer attacked Kyren with a fervor that was astounding even as the woman who had previously wielded the whip came to take Myrcella. Jaime was attempting to fight her off, but Kyren's entire being was absorbed in the battle she had taken on.
The man - for she decided that he was indeed male - was relentless. On several occasions, she was certain that he would remove her head completely and only just managed to move away in time. As her strength failed her completely and death seemed only moments away, guards clattered into the gardens and ordered the surrender of all weapons. Kyren stared up at the face of her opponent, waiting to see if he would listen or take her head first.
After a long moment, he dropped his spear and removed the strip of cloth obscuring the lower half of his face all at once. Kyren gaped. "Gyll?"
The sight of his dark coloring and once-kind brown eyes brought her to an abrupt halt. As most of her mind rejected the possibility, a small part of her understood why she had been so unable to best him. How could she hope to win against the man who had taught her to staff-fight in the first place?
The confusion swirling through her kept everything in a fog until she had been locked in the dungeons along with the others. She moved to follow Bronn and Jaime to a cell on the right side of the main corridor, but was stopped by a motion from the guard who accompanied them. "Left for females."
"Wait a moment, she is with us," Jaime commanded. "She fought with us and belongs in our cell."
The guard seemed unconvinced. "We separate male and female prisoners. Discourages unseemly behavior."
"Unseemly? And here I was always told that Dornishmen would gladly fuck their own mothers as long as she was facing the opposite direction," Bronn supplied cheerfully.
The guard waited a long moment before backhanding the sellsword. Bronn spat a mouthful of blood and grinned through stained teeth. "Suppose I should have expected that. Revenge is what your people are known for, yeah?" He strode blithely into the cell and seated himself comfortably, starting to sing what promised to be a rather ribald song about the Dornishman's wife.
"Go," the guard ordered, pushing Kyren toward the open doorway into the females' cell.
"Kyren!" Jaime barked, and she could not help but look back. "Do not so much as touch her or I will string your entrails from my ship!"
The short-haired Sand sister laughed lowly. "I cannot promise such a thing," she murmured, stroking a hand across Kyren's bare shoulder.
"Tyene," the whip wielder admonished wearily. "Grow up."
Tyene laughed merrily and moved to sit beside the door to their cell.
No one spoke for a great length of time after that, though Kyren rather wished they would. Bronn was still belting his song from the other cell, pausing and adding more inappropriate verses as he invented them. None of them were clever enough to pull her mind away from Gyll locked in the other cell. Even the chaos of Jaime leaving could not distract her completely.
"How did three Dornish rebels hire a trader from Essos?" Kyren asked at last.
The whip wielder leaned forward, studying Kyren with interest. "Do you speak of our staff fighter? You believe you know him?"
"I do," Kyren said simply.
"You do not," she replied. "Have you never heard of the-"
"Nym," the silently-seething woman in the corner snapped, voice sharp. "Let us not divulge all of our secrets."
"Nym?" Kyren asked, unable to keep the amusement from her face.
"Nymeria," Nym explained and Kyren flinched at the resulting memories of Arya and her beloved direwolf. Curiosity bloomed across two of the three faces in Kyren's sight, but Nym only asked, "And you?"
"Kyren."
"Well, Kyren, you've quite the skill with a staff," Nym complimented. "Not many can keep my sister from her prize. Obara has been training since she was a young girl."
"She is very skilled," Kyren admitted. "I was certain she would win unless I forsook honor." She turned to regard stone-faced Obara. "It would not have been my first choice and I apologize."
She refused to meet Kyren's gaze with her own, but Obara did appear to bear a whisper of a smile when she said, "I agree that you never would have bested me in a fair fight. You move as one who has just picked up her first staff."
"Not far from the truth. I only began training a year ago."
"What is your weapon of choice?" Obara asked.
"Daggers."
Tyene laughed from her post by the door. "Mine, too. Do you have any skill?"
"You favor close combat, do you not?" Kyren remarked, and when Tyene nodded, she said, "I do not. I throw my daggers."
"You throw them?" Tyene seemed somewhere between intrigued and horrified by the prospect. "What if you throw all of them and need more?"
Kyren shrugged, allowing a hint of pride in her voice. "I retrieve them from the bodies. I do not miss."
Nym chuckled. "You and Tyene use daggers very differently, then."
Kyren glanced curiously at the short-haired girl, who grinned conspiratorially. "I prefer to dip mine in poison. Your friend across the hall should feel the effects soon."
"Bronn?" Kyren asked, heart in her throat. She lurched to her feet, but Obara and Nym caught her by the arms and forced her to sit once more.
Obara placed cool fingers on either side of the scabbed-over cut on Kyren's bicep. "I respect you as a warrior, but if you make another sound, I will rip your wound open until I see your bones."
Kyren sat helpless as Tyene taunted Bronn, teasing him as she removed articles of her clothing before revealing that he had been poisoned. She then shifted her focus to the antidote, refusing to administer it until after he admitted she was the most beautiful woman in the world.
After he had emptied the tiny bottle Tyene tossed to him, Bronn fell back and slept against the cold stone floor of his cell. When Kyren was released, she moved to the door of the female cell and stared at Bronn. Gyll stared back at her impassively. "Do not worry. He no longer stinks of mortality. The Many-Faced God will make no visits here this day."
"Are you from Braavos?" Kyren asked. She had met him traveling from there, but he had not shown any sign of an accent nor mentioned that it was his birthplace.
He confirmed her suspicions with his response. "I am not. Why?"
"The only men I've ever met who mentioned the Many-Faced God are from Braavos."
Gyll did not respond to that, turning instead to stare out the barred window. The silence continued until the guards returned to take Bronn from his cell.
Bronn seemed unconcerned. "Am I gonna be happy at the end of this walk?"
"You'll find out very soon," the head guard answered shortly.
And they were gone, all of Kyren's questions left unanswered.
"Do not worry," Obara told her, a cold weariness in her tone. "Doran lacks the pride to kill your friend, even for such an insult as striking the son of a prince."
"Having mercy is not the same as lacking pride," Kyren returned.
"Oh?" Nym asked lightly. "And your Lannister king would allow a common sellsword to strike him and walk away?"
"I would not know. I have not seen how he chooses to rule."
A snort from Obara was her only response and the silence stretched once more, lasting until the guards returned to release them from the cells. The same guards escorted the three Sands to meet with Prince Doran, leaving Kyren to eye Gyll with suspicion and sorrow. When she had met him on the road through the Timetbre Mountains, he had been kind and warm, approachable and outgoing. Yet now, he had attempted to murder an innocent princess, and for what cause? To spark a rebellion against a prince who dared offer mercy to those who had offered only the slightest insult?
In a precarious quiet, the two made their way out to an open courtyard. Gyll came to an abrupt halt in the middle of the sun-soaked ground, crossing gloved arms across his chest and proclaiming, "I shall wait for the Sand Snakes here."
"Sand Snakes?" Kyren repeated, looking to see if he was jesting, but his dark face remained serious. "What terrible things happened to change you so?"
"Perhaps I have been charged with a terrible mission," he replied mysteriously. "I have been given responsibilities. You have as well, Kyren Asheworth. The Many-Faced God has plans for you."
Kyren narrowed her eyes at him, seeing a different man in her mind. A man with long red hair, streaked with a single strand of white. He had said that the Many-Faced God would send a follower to find her if she was needed.
"You would not happen to know a man by the name of Jaqen H'ghar, would you?" she asked plainly.
Had she seen a spark of something in his eyes? She doubted it. When Gyll spoke, his voice was as flat and toneless as it had been since she spoke to him in Dorne. "I do not."
She eyed him for another moment. "If you should happen to see him, tell him I said hello."
"As Alis Waters or Kyren Asheworth?"
Kyren forced herself to give a careless shrug. "Either one. I believe him clever enough to know me by either name."
With that, she departed the courtyard. Her last view of Gyll saw him giving an odd half smile. It was a familiar expression, but on the wrong face.
"You shall be pleased to learn that your man is alive," Tyene said without preamble as they nearly collided on Kyren's journey into Sunspear castle.
"As is yours," Kyren parried immediately, "though I would like to ask where you found him."
"He came to us," Nym explained. "Claimed that the Many-Faced God demanded he be here."
"Superstition," grunted Obara. "Strange men and their strange gods have no place in our plans, especially when they insist on keeping secrets."
Tyene crossed her arms and leveled a skeptical look at her companion. "I would not be so certain. Remember the stories of the Braavosi men?"
"Stories?" Kyren asked curiously. "What stories?"
Obara and Nym groaned simultaneously, but Tyene seemed undaunted, leaning closer to whisper, "They say there is a group in Braavos, assassins who can change their faces as others change clothes."
"That cannot possibly be true." Kyren's denial was flat.
"It is! We spoke to one. He was a strange man, never told why he was in Dorne, but…" Tyene trailed off to sigh wistfully. "He was beautiful."
Nym made a noise of disgust. "I will never understand why you like men with red hair. It is unattractive. No offense," she added to Kyren.
"But it was such a pretty color!" Tyene protested. "And a streak of white to set it off."
A chill raced its way up Kyren's spine. "Red hair with a white streak? He sounds odd."
"And you never even heard him speak," Obara muttered.
"Allow me to hazard a guess: did a man speak in such a way?" Kyren asked, praying that she was wrong.
"Yes, yes, exactly!"
"How did you guess?"
"I believe I met him before." Kyren paused to think for a moment. "But perhaps not. He had the same face every time I saw him."
"You should count yourself blessed, then," Tyene told her. "If he wore the same face, he did not mean you harm."
"Kyren!"
All four females turned to find Jaime Lannister staring at them from an open window nearby. He beckoned to her and she bowed to her companions. "If you all would be so kind as to excuse me?"
She had taken only steps before Obara spoke to stop her. "Would you care for some advice, Westerosi? Be careful around that man."
Kyren only nodded in return.
When she had circled into the palace and located the door to Jaime's chambers, Kyren found him standing next to the entrance. As soon as she stepped inside, he grasped her by the elbow and began to examine her. "Are you well? Did they harm you? I would never have chosen to leave you in those cells."
"I am well," Kyren told him, struggling to extricate herself from his hold. "Unharmed, even after being alone in the cells. How goes the fight to reclaim your daughter for King's Landing?"
"Nearly resolved, in fact. We are set to depart tomorrow morning along with Myrcella and Trystane. Doran has even granted us a ship for the return voyage to King's Landing." He pursed his lips before adding, "Attempt to limit your time with the Sands. I do not find them trustworthy."
When Kyren laughed, it was mirthless. "They said much the same about you."
Author's Note - Does anyone remember Gyll? He's from a couple of chapters ago, as Kyren was traveling through Essos. If you do, good memory and congrats! Anyway, hello! I'm trying to update this story at least once a month in an effort to balance work, school, and writing for fun.
Special thanks to Lady Jensen and Winter Frostine for their reviews!
Drop a review on your way out if you can as I would greatly love the feedback. Helps keep me passionate about writing when I have the time. Thanks for reading and I hope to see you all soon! Have a great day!