Game of Thrones: The Storm

S1E2 - The Kingsroad

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The yard at Winterfell was hushed, except for the soft crunch of gravel beneath boots and the low murmur of the gathered crowd. The sky was a pale, colorless canvas above, sunless, but bright with the sharp cold of early winter. 

At the edge of the training yard, standing in the overlook balconies, was most of Winterfell's court, and the court that your father and Cersei had brought with them. King Robert was draped in a heavy fur-lined cloak, sat with a horn of wine in one hand and skeptical eyes piercing down at you. 

Queen Cersei, radiant in red silks and golden furs, stood off to the side with her usual mask of cold amusement, lips curved in something between disdain and curiosity. Beside her was Jaime, wearing his shining gold armor and smirking as he looked over at Lord Stark. 

"I don't think they understand that Laramie has never participated in a 'friendly' duel," Jaime spoke softly to his sister who didn't bother to look at them. 

"Good. Better for the Stark's to see the little monster that Robert created," she hissed under her breath as she looked over at her children who were watching intently. 

Joffrey didn't really care for you. He liked asking you questions that he knew brought up trauma from Essos and asking about your mother, even though he wasn't always that way. He sat with a shit eating smirk plastered on his lips as the Hound stood behind him. 

Tommen, who was glued to his mother's side, looked down at you with a worried expression. When Cersei wasn't around, Jaime would sneak him into the gardens and you would get to see him sometimes, but Myrcella was another story. Cersei never let her go near you. 

The Starks stood nearby. Ned was stoic and silent, and Catelyn stood beside him with a wary gaze fixed not on Robb, but on the black-haired girl standing across the yard from him. The younger Stark children were gathered near the front, Jon Snow standing just behind Arya, Bran, and Rickon, all of them more eager than any. 

At the center of the yard stood Robb, his blade in hand, dressed in quilted leather and wool, with a giant chest plate covering his abdomen and back. He looked every bit the young lord, poised, proud, but not arrogant. You stood opposite of him, already tired of the dramatics that it took just for your father to get all of Cersei's children to come down to the training yard. 

Your long black hair was loose, the wind tugging at a few strands. Your armor was also lighter than Robb's, reinforced leathers dyed a deep shade of black, with Dornish stitching and patterns at the cuffs. Steel armor covering your shoulders, forearms, and shins. You rolled your shoulders and reached behind your back, drawing both blades with a hiss of steel. 

"Is she allowed to use dual swords?" Sansa whispered beside her mother.

"Astapori style," Jon murmured to his younger half-sister. "Some train to use both at once. It's not common in Westeros. Ser Arthur Dayne was the last Knight to use Dual Swords." 

"Your father defeated Ser Arthur Dayne with a single sword. She'll tire faster," Catelyn stated, trying to convince Sansa that her brother would win. Ned merely sighed at his wife's words as he watched you swing your swords around. 

The yard grew still as Ser Rodrik stepped between the two of you, his white whiskers twitching as he looked from Robb to you. 

"This is a simple spar," he reminded you both. "No blood drawn, no bones broken. Touch of the blade ends the bout. Best of three determines the winner. Do you both yield to the terms?" 

Robb nodded with ease. You tilted your head slightly, then gave a short nod. "I'll try not to hurt your pride, Stark."

Robb tried to jest in return, but right as he opened his mouth to talk, Rodrik stepped back.