AN: Clearly, this is a short one and it's a completely useless fic that goes nowhere at all, but I always thought it would have been cute to see Gwaine as Arya's older brother and teaching her how to fence. I imagine they'd get along really well.
Arya, for a skinny little girl of only nine years, was strong for her size and quick. Much quicker than Gwaine. She always knew exactly how to trick him, trip him and leave him on the ground with his own sword in one of her hands and Needle in the other, both pointing to him in triumph.
"You're clever," he chuckled.
"And you're slow," she agreed, suppressing her victorious grin. "I expected better."
"I didn't."
"Which is why you lost. And you call yourself my brother!"
"I do. I also call myself a Knight of Camelot when I'm drunk enough."
"You could be a knight," she said, helping him up. "You always told me that you could be anything if you wanted it enough."
But Gwaine just grimaced and gently play-punched Arya's chin. "I said that you could be anything, I never said anything about me. Once a bastard, always a bastard."
Arya smiled weakly as Gwaine took his sword from her hand and stood back into position.
"Now," he said. "You know your position. Back straight, eyes open, firm grip on the handle and what do we say to the God of Death?"
Arya assumed her position and raised Needle at the ready.
"Not today."