The Ghosts of Our Past

The Crossroads

Asha sat by the fire in the common room of the cross roads inn, wiggling her frozen toes and pulling her cloak tighter around herself in an attempt to warm up. The common room was long and drafty, the benches crowded, townsfolk and farmers mingling freely with all manner of travelers. The crossroads made for odd companions; dyers with black and purple hands shared a bench with rivermen reeking of fish, an ironsmith thick with muscle squeezed in beside a wizened old septon, hard-bitten sellswords and soft plump merchents swapped news like boon companions. That was what Asha liked best about crowded inns - she would sit there watching them all, imagining what lives they led, what stories they told and what had brought them all here. Everyone here had a story, and nobody cared about hers.

She took a sip from her murky tankard of watered-down ale and sighed. The meat and bread weren't bad by any means and she was thankful for the heat of the fire thawing her icy limbs. It simultaneously amused and saddened her to think that in years gone by she might've been repelled by such a meal - she certainly would've been by her current company. Yet the two sellswords who accompanied her weren't that bad, if you could get past Chiggen's yellow-toothed, leering grin and Bronn's cold, dark stare. They had their benefits, she supposed, they meant she found work more easily and their presence made her feel strangely more at ease. No one would question or threaten them and of course they had a handy ability to get what they needed which was how they'd secured such cosy seats by the fire. Asha felt she had earned their respect after their first encounter when Chiggen had attempted to grab her so she had instinctively kneed him hard in the balls - to Bronn's great amusement.

Asha could feel the day's travel weighing heavily on her and her mind had almost given into the lure of sleep when a commotion at the other end of the common room drew her attention. A small Lannister entourage stood at the inn keep's door with a little man dressed in fine clothes at its front. 'The Imp' they called him - Tyrion of House Lannister. It had been a long time since Asha had seen the Lannister colours up close and the sight of them made her want to recoil. The blazing red and gold meant only one thing - trouble.

"Lady Stark, what an unexpected pleasure," he said. "I was sorry to miss you at Winterfell."

The woman to whom he addressed rose. Long auburn hair fell to her waist, hanging wet and heavy from the rain. She was quite beautiful, Asha thought, if a little bedraggled from her journey. Yet there was no mistaking, the woman who stood before them was most certainly a Lady.

"I was still Catelyn Tully last time I bedded here," she told the inkeep. The muttering in the common room rose as Asha watched on, warily.

"You in the corner. Is that the black bat of Harrenhal I see embroidered on your surcoat, ser?"

The man got to his feet. "It is, my lady."

"And is lady Whent a true and honest friend to my father, Lord Hoster Tully of Riverrun?"

"He is ," the man replied stoutly.

Lady Catelyn continued, turning to the other men at arms, confirming both their houses and loyalty each in turn.

"This man came a guest into my house, and there conspired to murder my son, a boy of seven,"

Gasps and shocked whispers rippled throughout the room and even Asha had to admit she was startled by this.

"In the name of King Robert and the good lords you serve, I call upon you to seize him and help me return him to Winterfell where he can await the king's justice."

The Lady's words were answered by the sound of a dozen swords drawn as one.

Bronn and Chiggen rose, drawing their swords. Asha, however, remained where she was. Partly because she was unsure what to make of this turn of events, but mostly because she was rather comfortable with her cloak arranged perfectly around her, enveloping her in warmth, and any movement seemed unfavourable. Bronn gave her a dark look. Although, considering his eyes were black, any looks he gave her were dark.

"Come on," he hissed.

"A lady like that'll earn us a good few coppers," Chiggen added.

Asha doubted Chiggen knew the first thing about ladies like that. Still, she considered it. Was it worth the trouble when the Lannisters would likely respond in brute force. She looked curiously to lady Stark who had spoken with such conviction and strength it almost made Asha mildly admire her.

Asha had always tried to be careful, to take precautions and not risks. Yet that had earned her no favours in life. Her new companions had emboldened her, made her feel more rash.

So Asha Sand stood at the crossroads. Drawing her sword, she followed Bronn and Chiggen, and stepped out onto the new, sodden earth.