AUTHOR'S NOTE: It's a short one. Sorry! Also, I have a stand-alone in the same universe as this story, called The Lion and the Wolf, about the reunion of Sansa and Tyrion at Winterfel. Feel free to check it out. I'm might do a Daenerys and Jon stand-alone, too...or weave it into this one? I haven't decided.
Arya hadn't has so much fun sparring since her lessons with Syrio Fyrell. Lyanna wasn't as skillful as the Dancing Master, nor as strong and skilled as Jon, but her bold fighting style combined with speed was so enjoyable that it truly felt like dancing. They were about the same size, too, which made it more interesting. Lady Mormont's face was difficult to read—generally blank with just the slightest occasional eyebrow movement. The giggle in the courtyard had truly been an anomaly. Arya couldn't anticipate the young woman's moves, nor could she tell if the girl was tiring. The fight ranged through the courtyard as Arya's Army, Jon's troupes and Lyanna's retinue watched, cheering and yelling out suggestions.
The fight lasted longer than the traditional hostess in Sansa could stand. She had to find a way to stop this and give her visitors bread and salt, then a place to rest and change. She needed to make sure all was in line for the welcome dinner. She needed to stop this ridiculous duel before either young woman's pride turned it from a sparring match to an actual grudge. But how?
She strode over to her brother's side, nudged him and whispered, "Declare a draw."
He looked at her, puzzled. "What?"
Sansa sighed. "Declare a draw! We have duties as hosts to fulfill. We have strategies to discuss. Neither of them will give in, and we don't have time to nurse hurt pride. SO DECLARE A DRAW. Please."
Jon squinted at the women, who were putting on the most interesting display of swordsmanship he'd seen in recent memory. He wanted to see who would win. Part of him wanted Lady Lyanna to win and put Arya in her place. But he could see that the mirth present early on had faded from their faces. They wouldn't appreciate his interference…nor would the crowd. He looked at the sky, which promised snow any moment. He briefly remembered how a dragon's wings block out the sun…how they didn't seem to mind the cold, and how their bodies would melt the snow around where they rested. When the dragons departed, wildlife flocked to the area to eat the newly exposed grass, and...
"Jon!" Sansa snapped.
"IT'S A DRAW!" Jon bellowed in his battlefield roar. "GOOD SHOW!"
The combatants were shocked and froze with their blades in the air, then lowered them. There was some grumbling from the crowd. But few of them had ever heard the King in the North raise his voice outside of combat. Jon began to clap, and the others joined in.
The women lowered their weapons, and Sansa surged forward with Jon on her arm. "Sorry to interrupt, ladies, but there are certain duties…"
"I should have know this was you," Arya grumbled. "It was just getting good!"
"I think they're coming," Jon blurted, sounding puzzled.
"Who?" Sansa asked.
"Queen Daenerys and the dragons."