Hey GoT Fans. Since my first chapter was quite succesful in my eyes, I decided to turn this story into my bundle of GoT fanfiction scribbles. The title will indicate to where you must have seen the series in order not to get any spoilers. Please enjoy my chapters in any order you like.

(Hey everyone. I'm knew at contributing to Fanfiction's Game Of Thrones imperium, but I wanted to give it a try. Maybe I'll write more, though that depends on how well a response the chapter gets. So please share your honest opinion with me, so I know whether or not I should try writing another. Kind Regards, J. Caesar)

S07E04: The Needle and the Sword

*Clang, clung, clang!*

The harsh sound of colliding metal objects echoed over the stone walls of Winterfell's snowy courtyard. Two people practicing their sword skills was not an uncommon appearance here, nor in any other part of Westeros. The Seven Kingdoms were at war, and when a war raged over the land, there was no telling when the next battle would be. It could just as simply be tomorrow as next month. All that the Northerners knew, was that they ought to be ready when the time came. It was thus that anyone sought to perfect their abilities with the weaponry of their choosing, be it spear, axe, bow and arrow or, as in this case, the sword.

The sparring filled the air with a strange melody, hummed by the steel blades as they scraped over one another. An odd music composed of squealing metal surfaces that rhythmically altered between slams, screeches and silences. The composition was both horrifying and exhilarating as it was a prelude to battles yet to come, as well as victories that lie beyond them. Although seemingly unvarying, one could hear another sound amongst the swords' cries. The strokes were always followed by a damp thud. The reason was one of the two sword bearers hitting the floor.

"Don't Lunge." Brienne lectured her squire.

Podrick Payne had been her squire ever since his former lord, Tyrion Lannister, had been sentenced to death in King's Landing. He was determined to learn how to handle a sword. To study day and night to one day to perhaps become just as great a swordsman as the lady knight he served today. After having asked her to train him and he had agreed, he had promised to exercise with her daily, but for some reason, he never seemed to get any closer to his goal. And continuously tasting the ground with his nose deeply buried in the mud wasn't the way he had imagined his training to transpire. On the other hand, she had warned him it wouldn't be easy.

He gritted his teeth and crawled onto hands and knees. He reached out, grabbed the sword that had fallen besides him and clambered onto his feet. It took him a second to regain balance when he did and in order to mask his rigidity, he pretended to wipe off the earth that soiled his brown leather suit. Brienne had already positioned herself opposite him again, waiting for him to be ready again. He adopted his battle pose and waited for her to do the same. This time, he would go about it differently.

Podrick raised his sword for a first strike, but his opponent deflected it with ease. Since his weight was already moving forward, he used it in order to land a series of strokes to try and breach her defenses. Without the appearance of difficulty, but with an evident history of practice, Brienne continued to parry his attacks, whilst her enemy was tiring. This led her to give up ground, giving Podrick the idea that his actions were having an effect. Unfortunately, he had no clue that Brienne had given him this impression on purpose. Suddenly she dodged his strike and hooked her boot around his exposed right leg, sending the man onto his back for the tenth time that day. He looked up, annoyed by the fact that he was tricked.

"Don't go where your enemy leads you."

Another lesson that, despite giving him a sore behind, could prove life-saving should he get involved in a real battle outside of his training ground. He learned a lot with each day, but he couldn't shake the feeling that the teaching could be given to him in a slightly more gentle fashion.

"Up!" She commanded.

What neither of them realized, was that a guest had emerged on the scene, monitoring them from a distance. Intrigued by the sounds she had heard from afar, it was the commanding voice of Brienne that had truly gotten her attention.

Podrick got up once more, only to be pressed with his face into the soil again when Brienne had gotten the better of him. After another combination of parries, she had finished it off by forcing her sword's pommel in his stomach.

The spectator shivered with anticipation upon seeing the fluency of the knight's movements.

"And don't-"

"Don't fight someone like her in the first place."

Brienne looked up surprised, observing the little person that had examined her as she professed her squire. The young girl was dressed in a seal brown leather jacket with a dark gray underskirt, protruding from underneath. She came walking towards them, automatically placing one hand on the sword that hung on a black belt with an iron buckle. She identified the person as Arya Stark, sister to Sansa Stark, the current Lady of Winterfell and the one she had solemnly sworn to protect. Brienne's sight also went over the thin sword that was clasped in Arya's hand, causing her to fail to withhold a compliment about its finesse.

"Nice sword."

The same thing happened to an even further extend when her eyes met the richly decorated dagger on Arya's other hip.

"Very nice dagger.

The gold lines that curled from the shiny metal pommel down to the cross guard gave away that it was an expensive, first-class weapon. A kind of forgery rarely seen outside the halls of wealthy noblemen. Then again, Arya was part of House Stark. To Brienne's delight, Arya took it out and pressed it into her hand for examination. When she gauged it's balance, sensed its craftsmanship and took notion the ruby inside the handle, she was sure that this dagger was not only made of Valerian Steel, but was probably worth more than her entire outfit combined. With the exception of Oathkeeper, the expensive gift she had received from Jaime Lannister.

After her inspection, she handed the dagger back to its owner, who sheathed it with care. Another trait she approved, respect for equipment suggested dedication to their purpose.

"It's been a while since I trained." Arya said, taking a step back to symbolize her readiness.

"I can go and find the master of arms for you, my lady." Brienne replied reverently.

Arya smiled back.

"He didn't beat The Hound… You did… I want to train with you."

Brienne laughed, happy with the compliment, yet unsure of how to react.

"You swore to serve both my mother's daughters, didn't you?" Arya continued to persuade her.

A brief silence passed. Brienne dug in her memory to recollect the event, eventually finding Arya to be correct. She had promised to protect both of Catelyn Stark's daughters and since Arya was one of those, she couldn't really refuse this request. She nodded and turned to her squire.

"Move aside Podrick." She bade.

The young man, who had been following the conversation silently, took his distance with a sigh. He was pleased to be able to take a break from his falling, but also a little agitated that his training was interrupted. He situated himself by a pile of barrels and other rubble. From there, he could observe it all. He let his pupils analyze the Stark girl and then his mentor. He knew that Brienne wouldn't go as tough as she had on him, however he was curious still as to how this match would play out. The girl exerted a great amount of certainty for someone so fragile, especially in the face of this powerful adversary, towering out above her like a church over a village.

And Podrick was correct. Arya was satisfied that Brienne had agreed to spar with her and was eager to get a chance to measure her skills with the woman that had beat the notorious Hound in single-combat. What she didn't know, was that for every ounce of her enthusiasm, there was an equal amount of anxiety somewhere above her. Her sister, Sansa Stark, gazed down upon the courtyard and drew a concerned expression when she saw her sibling taking up positions against perhaps her most skillful warrior. Next to her stood Petyr Baelish, also known as Littlefinger, whose face, in contrast to Sansa's, read hardly any kind of emotion. Not that this meant that he wasn't overly intrigued by what was about to unfold.

Arya pulled out Needle, a slink, lightweight sword that was her main weapon of choice. What the blade lacked in power it more than made up for in speed and accuracy, the features that befitted her fighting style. It was an elegant weapon with its silver shimmering fuller, leading down to a similarly radiant golden cross-guard. Whereas Arya fully trusted her sword, Brienne was not so convinced of its capabilities.

"You can't use that, my lady, it's too small." Brienne commented.

"I won't cut you. Don't worry." Arya replied, her voice laced with a little arrogance.

Arya knew that Brienne wasn't the first to misjudge Needle's abilities. And she wouldn't be the last either.

Brienne blinked, stupefied by her opponent's haughty answer. In her opinion, there was no possibility that she could lose to this minuscule weapon. She knew that her experience had taught her not to judge a book by its cover, but she couldn't wrap her head around that tiny thing inflicting any damage. No, Arya's confidence was misplaced and it was up to Brienne to shown her that.

"I'll try not to." She responded sarcastically, clasping the other hand around Oathkeeper's handle.

For a few seconds they both stood face to face without anything happened at all. Then, Arya let her sword spin around her hand, triggering her foe into action. The attack that came had but a fraction of Brienne's true strength, something Arya had foreseen. She made use of this slow movement to tease her adversary by striking the longsword from below and on top, prior to swiftly thrusting. It ended a few inches from Brienne's face, where it halted and rested in the air. This close, Brienne could see how sharp the tip of Needle truly was and how the grooves went down in a perfect straight line down to the hand that wielded it. She had been caught off guard by the girl's agility.

Arya tugged in her sword and with two beautifully fluent circles of its point, brought it to rest behind her back. A position where Brienne could not see it and therefore would not know on which side it would pop up. The astonishment in the tall lady's eyes made her smirk widen a little.

It was only a little, but enough for Brienne to notice it. Maybe she had held back too much. She felt it time to kick it up a notch and raised her weapon for a more powerful attack. She let it come down harder and faster this time, though it was still not enough to catch the slippery Stark.

After dodging the first strike, Brienne's attack turned to a series of sword swings, forcing Arya into a dance that brought back old memories. Waterdancing, the technique taught to her by her first teacher, Syrio Forel. Evading the increasingly fierce attacks of her foe, she reckoned that like him, she was fond of dueling. The memory almost made her forget that she was sparring with someone.

With a small flick of her smallsword, she bent the next incoming attack just enough so that her lithe body could do the rest.

She noted that every of the knight's large swings was succeeded by a brief moment of imbalance. It was a tiny detail, yet with enough experience, details like those stand out. Arya used it to suddenly turn the tables and launch a flurry of lunges. Brienne could barely parry the array of attacks that came out of nowhere. Not only were they like as rapid as a lashing snake, her thrusts were equally precise and painful. The latter she learned from the final attack that hit her hand, making her withdraw said hand in an automated response to the abrupt pain. This exposed her leg, where she was gently tapped. In real life, Needle could've sliced her leg at this point.

This meant the second win for Arya.

Podrick, who had been watching the scene, was impressed by the expertise of this small girl. Her appearance had completely thrown him off. That was a feature that might work just as well in her favor, as her fleet of foot. He had never thought she'd be that quick. He wondered when or even if his mentor would gain the upper hand. And he was not the only one. Sansa stared down amazed by her sister's swiftness and grace in the art of the sword. She was so different from the last time Sansa had seen her and it frightened her a bit. Next to her, Littefinger silently enjoyed the show. What he saw, was a something few people knew. And if there was anything he liked more than being with Sansa, it was obtaining useful, rare knowledge.

All of Brienne's face now read that she was done playing nice. While taking a short breather, she reconsidered her plan of action. Then she struck again with even more ferocity and even sharper angles than the last time, albeit Arya still led their 'dance'. Her nimbleness allowed her to keep eluding every move, leading up to the point where she was able to land a third successful hit on Brienne.

That fired the woman up so heavily, she started to swing the longsword as if her life depended on it, slamming it into the ground. The ground shot tremors over the steel, posing a painful feeling, but in no way did they incapacitate her maneuvers. In an instant, she already had the sword back up in the air, waving like a berserker. She fenced Arya's moves and got so caught up in the heat of battle that she forgot for a moment she was sparring with a youngster.

She dealt a firm and unexpected kick right onto Arya's chest, sending the girl on her back, gasping for air.

A panic rose inside her. She had sensed the force she had put behind her foot and it had been far from a gentle nudge. For a moment she feared to have severely injured her lady's little sister. However, before she had a chance to express any concern, the limber little warrior swayed her legs around in a circle and jumped right back onto her feet, readopting a fighting stance. The lively face indicated that she was more than capable of resuming their match. It dawned on Brienne that in this girl, she had found a skilled and enduring adversary. She didn't have to hold back.

Right. Above. Right. Left.

The blows continued as Brienne forced Arya back. They both panted as their duel lengthened and the metal screamed louder with every parry. Needle and Oathkeeper had never met each other in battle before, yet in these few minutes they had already touched each other more than a married couple.

Left. Front. Left. Above.

Every sound gave Sansa a small scare, whereas it induced a grin below Littefinger's mustache as he nodded entertained. It was a true spectacle to him as the two women fought more intensely than he had seen most men do. To think they were only sparring right now. Sansa's little sister had become a person to reckon with.

Meanwhile Arya was with her back to a brazier and had no choice than to lunge at an opening in Brienne's defenses. The move had been calculated for and was parried by the knight and was immediately tailed by a strong smack onto the fuller. This lost Arya her sword as the force of the blow sent Needle down into the wet mud and she had to use her hands to deflected the strike that Brienne had already in store for her afterwards.

Their eyes met, causing a brief moment of inertness. With Arya disarmed, Brienne figured it to be over, though Arya's expression still read no signs of surrender. This spurred the lady knight into action again. Arya bent back to avoid getting struck, simultaneously drawing her dagger with her right hand. Brienne saw it happen and quickly seized said hand, raising her sword. What she failed to account for in time however, was that her opponent had switched the dagger to the other hand and precisely when Brienne presented Oathkeeper's point to Arya, Arya's Valerian dagger glimmered in front of Brienne. This resulted the match to end in a draw, leaving both contesters with a satisfied smile on their faces despite their heavy breathing.

Brienne lowered her sword and looked the young girl over. What a fight she had put up. She had gained a great amount of respect for this Stark sister, especially after that final trick she pulled. Arya sheathed the dagger.

"Who taught you how to do that?" Brienne asked genuinely intrigued.

Arya thought back of her Braavosi teacher and smiled.

"No-one."

An answer that left all in complete awe of her self-education, except Arya herself. But that was just the way her old teacher had wanted it and frankly... she didn't mind it either.