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 Thirty-Two
"I'm sorry, but what you ask is impossible," the captain told her. At least it sounded as though the man were being sincere, but Kyren could not accept his answer. After all, she had yet to leave Sotam behind permanently and she had no intentions to begin now.
"Why is this impossible? I will load him on and off your ship myself and he remains on the top deck throughout our short voyage."
"Yes, the voyage is short, but I've yet to see a horse remain calm on a ship for four days."
Kyren sighed. "Sotam has sailed to Essos and back. I think he can handle a single voyage from Gulltown to Ram's Gate."
"Essos?" the captain asked, frowning over at where Sotam stood cropping the grass near the entrance to the port. He appeared to be considering his options, but Kyren had very little faith in allowing things to run their course.
"I will raise my offer another Stag."
"Very well. We depart at dawn, Have your beast loaded on my ship by then or expect to be left behind." The captain pocketed her money, gave a solemn nod, and moved back toward his ship.
Kyren patted Sotam's side as she walked to him once more. When they had left King's Landing some weeks before, she had been concerned. Enterprising Shana had not only sold Kyren's belongings, but also confiscated all the coin she had managed to amass. However, the thief who had stolen Sotam had unwisely chosen to place his purse in the saddlebags that he still wore. His work may have lacked craftsmanship, but the man seemed to have been a success if she were to judge by his wealth. Or he had simply stolen all of his wares, which was also a possibility.
They traveled into the marketplace, a bustling area of Gulltown. Kyren bought enough food for Sotam to survive the trip and few provisions for herself, strategically paying a bit more than asked to ensure the discretion of the shop owners. She bought some clothing as well. Years spent in warmer climates had depleted her wardrobe of anything warm enough to be worn in the North during a winter.
Fully outfitted and having enjoyed a final meal on land, Kyren returned to the docks. To avoid any question of departure time, she had decided that they would spend the night before the start of the voyage sleeping on the ship. Loading Sotam onto the ship was simplicity itself. Their many voyages meant that he had grown comfortable walking up the narrow planks of the gangway onto a deck, even the deck of a small passenger ship such as this one.
Once he was settled, Kyren moved into the ship's belly to find the small cabin she would be sharing with the two other females on this voyage. She dreaded the lack of privacy that was promised, but at least she would be bunking with females and would have little need to sleep in full awareness in the case of some attack or another.
At dawn, Kyren woke as if she had planned to do so and moved above decks to watch Gulltown grow steadily smaller as they sailed out into the Shivering Sea. As she leaned out over the rail of the ship, she fought to calm the wild pounding of her heart.
Kyren was too practical and had faced too much to believe in such silly things as curses. However, the last few voyages she had made over water were less than ideal. She had unwittingly traveled to Essos in the company of some sort of assassin, she had almost been kidnapped by pirates and sold into slavery, her return to Westeros had been wracked by a fever so harsh that the crew had considered throwing her overboard to avoid a plague, and her voyage to Dorne had borne witness to Myrcella's death and had ended in Kyren's capture by Cersei.
No, she did not believe in curses, but Kyren breathed a soft prayer to the Seven for an easy journey and eagerly awaited the end of the voyage.
Jaime did not believe in anything so childish as curses. After all the horrible things he had experienced in his life, he knew that people who suffer suffered while those who tormented them were likely to end up better off than before. The Seven had little sense of justice in his opinion, though it was one he did not care to voice aloud.
No, he did not believe in curses, but Jaime breathed a soft prayer to the Seven for strength as he watched the crown rest gently on Cersei's shorn golden hair.
In a moment, he was transported back to when he was a youth, watching the Mad King devolve further and further into his delusions until he saw enemies every which way he turned. Enemies he had decided must be burnt to death. He hadn't yet discovered what had led to Cersei's coronation, but he had passed the still-smoldering remains of the Sept of Baelor.
Despite the length of time that had passed, he had never forgotten the smell of bodies burning…
"In light of the terrible tragedies that have wracked our city and the threats of approaching dangers from over the narrow sea, we are grateful for the steadfast strength of our queen," Qyburn proclaimed, addressing that crowd that stood before Cersei. The Hand's badge was prominent on his thin chest. "She has chosen to address us all even in this time of personal hardship for her family."
Cersei stood, a richly-embroidered dress wrapping the curves of her slight body. The lions that roared at each other across her breast were wrought in golden thread, stark against the black fabric and drawing the eye to the golden crown atop her head.
"I have heard the whispers, my people. There are those who seek to steal our peace, our prosperity. They would harm us if given the chance. I do not intend to allow them that chance. Together, we will stand tall and strong. We will repel all invaders, all outsiders who wish to come against the great Seven Kingdoms of Westeros. Those who ask protection and seek serenity will be allowed shelter beneath our broad protection. Those who intend violence will be met with violence such that they have never imagined. We are Westeros and we will not be threatened."
She allowed the silence to ring after the conclusion of her speech, her graceful hands clasped serenely. The gathered people were quiet as well, seeming either cowed or in awe, Jaime could not quite decide which. When the first cheer rent the air, he knew that she had won them over.
Cersei inclined her head as if accepting the adoration as her due and returned to her seat on the Iron Throne. She did not sprawl as Robert and Joffrey had done, nor did she sit as though afraid to touch the dragonfire-melted blades behind her as Tommen had. Instead, she graced the throne with all the confidence and natural power as one who had been born to the title, flanked on one side by Qyburn and the Mountain on the other.
She was at last where she had wanted to be, but Jaime could not fight back a feeling of unease. Too many questions still remained. He needed to speak with her, but first, there were other problems that needed to be solved.
He found Bronn in the depths of the Red Keep. The sellsword was grim, face drawn into more lines than Jaime could ever remember seeing.
"I'll warn you now, you won't like what I'm going to say."
Jaime sighed. "I know. Say it anyway."
"Her trial with the High Sparrow was intended to take place some days ago. She never appeared at the Sept and refused to allow the King to go, either. The next thing anyone knew, the Sept had exploded."
"Exploded?" Jaime asked, scarcely hearing his own question over the sound of his pounding heartbeat.
"Wildfire, apparently. Green flames."
Jaime felt as though he had taken a blow to the stomach. "Wildfire. How many dead?"
"Thousands," Bronn answered bluntly. "The Sept was full of people who wanted to watch the proceedings, the entire Faith Militant, not to mention the people in surrounding buildings that caught fire or collapsed. Some were crushed by falling rubble, others were trampled by the crowds-"
"Enough," Jaime ordered. "I understand completely."
"I don't think you do," Bronn told him. His eyes were… sympathetic, and it was enough to send chills throughout Jaime's body. "There was one person whose death was completely unrelated to the explosion: Tommen's."
Jaime had known Cersei being crowned boded ill for Tommen, but had held out hope that their son had abdicated after everything that happened. "Tommen? How?"
Bronn cleared his throat and avoided Jaime's gaze. "He was overcome with grief for his wife and guilt knowing that his mother had done such a thing. He- He jumped from his window."
"I need to see his tomb," Jaime said shortly, striding toward the crypts.
Bronn halted him as he passed, placing a hand against the center of Jaime's chest to hold him back. "That's the other thing…"
"A traitor to the crown?" Jaime thundered, stepping into the king's chambers - or, he supposed, the queen's.
"Who is a traitor to the crown?" Cersei asked, glancing at him with no surprise on her lovely face. She had known he was here. "Brynden Tully? We know very well he was. Your loyalty to Westeros is, as always, appreciated."
"Get out!" Jaime shouted to the room filled with advisors carrying maps and various documents.
They glanced at her, awaiting confirmation before obeying his command. A single nod from her sent them all scurrying.
"Now," she said coolly once the room was emptied of everyone except them, "What's all this about traitors? Why are you shouting at my advisors? We have a defense to plan."
"You declared our son a traitor to the crown," Jaime said through gritted teeth. "You decreed that he could not be buried in the crypt with his brother and sister. You would not even allow him a ceremony!"
Cersei's face hardened. "Tommen Baratheon was a traitor to the crown and to the kingdom of Westeros."
"He was a Lannister," Jaime argued heatedly.
"No, somehow, he was a Baratheon. He allowed himself to be taken in by a religious charlatan, chose him and that little tart of a wife over his family. He does not deserve to rest beside his siblings."
"Tommen was good!"
"Do not interrupt me!" Cersei snarled at him. "I am your queen, and you would do well to remember it. Tommen was spineless and his end reflected that. He was no son of mine and he will not share a crypt with our children and our father!"
"Cersei, think of what you say," Jaime urged, resting his hands on her shoulders - though she immediately shrugged off his golden appendage. "Our father was a greedy, grasping man. Myrcella was a young woman we hardly knew and Joffrey was mad. If anything, Tommen should not be buried in the same crypt because he at least tried to be good and just. He aimed higher than our family has ever attempted in the past."
"Do not speak of my children that way."
"Your children?" Jaime asked. "Only yours? If I remember correctly, most of the troubles we've experienced over the past years have been because they are our children. Cersei, people seek to divide the Lannisters any way they can. What better ammunition to give them than to leave the body of our son - the king - to rot in a pauper's grave?"
She turned away from him, staring from the window instead. Chills marched down Jaime's arms to see that she was studying the smoking remains of the Sept of Baelor. "Very well," she agreed at length. "Gather his body as best you can and have it placed in the crypt. Then I expect you to return here so we can strategize the defense of Westeros."
Jaime inclined his head and departed from the queen's chambers. Bronn had already revealed that Tommen's body had been dumped in the boneyards near the kingdom and Jaime had gathered up all that he recognized of his youngest son before visiting his sister. It had been grueling work and Jaime had vomited more than once before it was done. He had planned to bury Tommen in a private ceremony if he was refused a place in the crypt, but this was the better way. Tommen deserved to rest beside his siblings and grandfather.
Entombing Tommen had turned out to be a lengthy process, largely because Jamie could not stop weeping long enough to perform the ceremony that would commit Tommen's soul to the Seven. Under normal circumstances, it would not matter to Jaime, but this was his son, and if the rites were not properly performed, his place in the royal crypt could be dissented.
Bronn, oddly enough, served as a steadfast witness to the young king's burial. He stood watchful as Jaime repeated the words that fell so naturally from his tongue. There had been so many deaths of late that the rites had become hauntingly familiar. It seemed that Jon Arryn had died and death had never left King's Landing.
After the door to the royal crypt swung closed once more, Bronn said, "Thought you had to be a maester before those words mean anything?"
Jaime just shrugged and began the walk back up to the queen's chambers. He couldn't very well tell Bronn that he had met the Seven face-to-face and felt uniquely qualified to bid his son to their keeping.
At the foot of the long staircase that would lead back to Cersei, Bronn caught at Jaime's shoulder. "Hold on, you don't really intend to go back in there, do you?"
"I must," Jaime answered tonelessly. "The queen ordered me to return after burying Tommen so that we can begin to plan the defense of King's Landing."
"So, you buried her son and in return, you get to do her job and figure out how to keep the city safe from three fucking dragons?" Jaime didn't argue and Bronn shook his head in amazement. "That's a terrible bargain. You realize that, yeah?"
"I need to go," Jaime said, shaking Bronn's hand from his shoulder and starting up the stairs.
When he at last arrived at the top, Cersei was waiting for him in the map room. Her advisors had yet to return and she cradled a glass of wine in her hand. She smiled tenderly at him, their earlier argument seemingly forgotten.
"Come to me, Jaime," she said softly, holding a hand out in his direction. Jaime stepped closer and obligingly took it. She squeezed his fingers and ran her eyes over the map beneath their feet. "It's all ours. Every bit of land, every holdfast, every person in Westeros. They belong to us."
"For now," he pointed out.
"Forever," she countered. "We have reached the peak of the mountain. We are untouchable. A Lannister dynasty, one which never needs to end."
Jaime swallowed harshly. They could not possibly be a dynasty; they were lacking another generation. It wasn't until Cersei began easing closer to his face, her gaze rapt on his mouth, that he realized that she intended to create a solution to that problem as well. His judgement screamed for him to move away, but he paid no attention.
Cersei's lips were soft and warm, lushly inviting him deeper. Her kiss was sweet, drugging, and Jaime had the abrupt realization that there were only two directions he could go from here: he could continue this course, falling back into his familiar relationship with Cersei, sire a child with her, and perhaps she could amend the laws so that they could live together openly - people could judge them only in cruel whispers, easily disregarded. Or he could stop this. Jaime could break off this contact and move away from this madness. He could start fresh elsewhere. He had already suffered for the relationship between them, his golden hand was a constant witness to that fact.
But still, this was Cersei, his first love, his best friend, the mother of his children.
Groaning, Jaime game himself over to the kiss, pulling her closer with one hand while he cradled her jaw with the other. Just as he had decided that whatever wrath the Seven had in store for him was worth it, Cersei pushed him away, glaring as she panted.
"What is it?" he asked breathlessly.
"Do not touch me with that," she hissed, pointing delicately at his golden hand.
"Do not- You cannot be serious, Cersei!"
"I certainly am. I do not care for the reminder that you are no longer whole."
Jaime gaped at her, aghast. "I lost my hand trying to get back to you!"
"Do you really think I didn't order Roose Bolton to tell me exactly what his men say happened on that night? I know you lost your hand trying to protect that hideous giantess."
With a disbelieving laugh, Jaime said, "You are angry with me because I lost my hand trying to protect an innocent woman from being raped?"
Cersei's emerald eyes grew even colder than before. "She had sworn herself to the service of the Starks, traitors to the crown. If they could not protect her, she deserved what they would have done."
Jaime stared in horrified silence and Cersei smoothed her dress with a frustrated sigh. Fixing him with her most alluring smile, she stepped closer once more. "I did not ask you here to argue."
"Right. You wanted to coordinate the defense of King's Landing."
"Jaime…"
He smiled charmingly at her. "It is best we get started."
She stared at him a moment longer before returning her attention to the map. "Enemies rise against us on all sides."
"Yes, nothing attracts foes so well as new power."
Jaime was conceding her point, but Cersei still glared fiercely at his interruption. "I need you to go take care of one of our new enemies: Olenna Tyrell."
"Olenna Tyrell," Jaime repeated, frowning at her. "You want me to bring an army against Highgarden, one of the most fortified and defensible castles in all of Westeros, all to execute a woman who would likely have died within weeks due to old age and grief?"
"Yes."
The simple answer was not what he hoped to have heard. "Is there any particular reason why I am the one you are sending?"
"You are a talented swordsman, a well-regarded strategist, and - quite frankly - I cannot stand the sight of you at the moment. I trust you to complete the task and I need you far from me."
"I understand," Jaime said, not without regret. However, if Cersei insisted that she needed a man who was whole rather than Jaime with his missing hand, there was little he could do to convince her otherwise and he owed it to himself not to try.
"Very well," he summarized. "I shall muster an army and begin plans for our travel to the Reach. We will likely leave within days."
"I expect I shan't see you before then?" Despite the question in her tone, Cersei's expression made it clear that this was a warning, not a query.
"Doubtful," he returned. With a final bow, he offered, "My queen."
Cersei said nothing further as he left the map room and Jaime fought back a wave of disappointment and hopelessness.
Kyren stared up past the sails into the night sky. The Shivering Sea was daunting and the impending winter made the air sting her nose as she breathed and she huddled close to Sotam for warmth, but the view of the stars was worth any discomfort. She could see every constellation above Westeros. Though many of them were unfamiliar to her, it still gave Kyren a sense of awe and humility, a true glimpse at the wonders of the world.
Despite the misgivings she still held concerning her past with ship voyages, Kyren could admit that she was beginning to feel a touch of optimism. If things all went to plan, she could be at Winterfell in as little as a week. It was dangerous to place one's happiness in the memory of a place from a different time in her life, but Kyren could not deny that she hoped the find the peace that had eluded her through the past years inside Winterfell's gates.
"It's gettin' late, miss," a sailor told her as he walked past. "Too cold for a little thing like you out here. Need any help carin' for that beast of yours?"
"Not tonight, thank you," Kyren refused politely. This sailor seemed enamored by the stallion, even tolerating his harsh bites with a chuckle and admiration of Sotam's pride. Lovingly, Kyren tucked a thick blanket over Sotam's back and haunches, threading the saddlebags through slits she had cut. Their weight seemed a comfort to the stallion and helped prevent the blanket from being taken by the wind.
Bestowing a pat on Sotam's neck, Kyren retired to her cabin. The other two women knew each other as they were traveling in the same party and spent the grand majority of their time tucked in the stale room. Both were asleep when Kyren stepped quietly through the door and neither awoke as she settled into her bunk.
In the early hours of the morning, Kyren woke to the ship gaining speed and abruptly slowing. She was alert in moments, on her feet before the sound of unfamiliar boots hitting the deck above their heads rattled down through the wood.
Surely even her luck wasn't so bad as to have two separate voyages taken over by pirates?
When an unfamiliar gentleman came to retrieve the females from their cabin, Kyren took stock of the mismatched and ill-fitting clothes, his long beard, sun-tanned skin, and the smell that rolled from him. Pirates. As she followed the others from the room - both were weeping - she clenched her jaw. She had dealt with pirates far more fearsome than these before. Granted, she had no staff and no allies on this ship, but she had been victorious in Essos and she would be here, especially with her full collection of daggers hidden on her person.
However, when she reached the deck, there was no arguing or fighting. Instead, the kindly captain of the boat was tied to its main mast while the crew was contained toward one side of the deck, guarded by a pirate with a sword in each hand.
Very well. If they did not wish to fight for their freedom, Kyren would not force it, but would remain on guard in case it appeared anyone would be injured or killed.
The pirate captain stood before all the passengers of the ship and sketched an extravagant bow. It was nothing compared to Jaime when he got going, but everyone who had not been treated to that sight buzzed with admiration. "I am Captain Salladhor Saan. I will need to know who I have detained here, but fear not. I am in search of riches, not lives. You shall all live to sail away so long as no one attempts anything… heroic."
The passengers revealed their identities to Saan as he walked down the line, greeting them all by name with pleasantries as though he were hosting a feast rather than threatening their lives. Kyren inwardly despaired of their easily-charmed nature.
"And you, my lady?" he asked when he reached Kyren.
"No lady, I'm afraid. Alis Waters."
"Waters?" Kyren nodded, but he shook his head and studied her. "Are you certain? You appear much more likely to be a Snow."
"No, Ser. I have never been further north than Gulltown." The lies came easily to Kyren, but Saan seemed unconvinced.
Addressing the gathered passengers, he said, "My most trusted men will accompany you back to your quarters. Please turn your valuables over to them and no one need be injured. We are all reasonable people. What are trinkets in exchange for your safety?"
When Kyren started down toward the cabins once more, Saan shook his head. "Not you. You will gather all of your belongings and join my crew."
Kyren gave a disbelieving laugh. "And why would I ever do such a thing?"
"Because you have no other option. You may be an illegitimate Westerosi girl traveling north for the first time, but you also match a description sent out by an old friend of mine. I shall keep you with me until I can send a raven to discover if you are the one he seeks."
Kyren's heart dropped. What if it was someone who reported to Cersei? She would be directly back where she started after giving up so much. "Who is your friend?"
"That is information you have no need of," Saan responded pleasantly.
"And if I am not who he is searching for?" she pressed. "Surely you do not intend to release me?"
He pursed his lips in thought. "It is bad luck to release anyone who has seen the inside of a pirate's ship."
"Precisely," Kyren agreed, shocking the man if she was to go by the motion of his brows. "If the information will go no further than me, why should you not tell me? Perhaps I can save you the time."
Saan regarded her thoughtfully, but eventually came to a conclusion and revealed, "His name is Davos Seaworth."
Kyren smiled and readied herself for a struggle. There would be only a moment between her denial and the moment the pirates attempted to kill her. She would have to injure as many as possible before making her escape, and even then, it would be a long swim to shore, but she would not die like this. The real trick would be forcing Sotam into the water as well.
Before she could make her denial, Saan added, "Of late, he works with a man by the name of Jon Snow."
Kyren was far too shocked to control her facial expression and Saan nodded as though she had confirmed his suspicions. "As I said, you will accompany us until I can send a raven and receive confirmation. I will need your true name."
"I will gladly tell you so long as you will allow me to bring my stallion along." She gestured to Sotam and Saan began laughing.
"Very well. If you can coax him onto my ship, he is welcome to join us." He leaned closer. "And your name?"
After a fortifying breath - an unwise decision around the reek of pirates - she revealed, "Kyren Asheworth."
Saan grinned broadly. "Welcome aboard, Kyren."
Author's Note - Poor Kyren, forever being captured by pirates. I will say that this particular run-in has been planned from the beginning while Kyren's experience with Captain Zha was more of a spur of the moment decision for me. Also, poor Jaime, I guess? He's kind of created his own problems throughout the series, but it always sucks to realize that someone you love isn't who you thought they were.
Anyway! Thanks for reading, please, please, please leave a review (I know we're all disappointed in the finale, but I'm starting to feel like I'm shouting into a void, here!), and have a great day! Happy Halloween, too!