You gather up your long skirt with one hand and grip the wooden sword with the other. Jon stands in front of you, smiling as Arya and Robb are cheering for him, while Bran and Rickon have decided to cheer for you instead.
He hasn't moved yet. He's just holding his ground, smile on his face, studying you intently without blinking. You shift your weight from one foot to the other and turn the sword around in your hand. Then, you strike. He skips to the side and pokes your ribs gently with the tip of his wooden sword. You spring back and meet his blade with yours. You struggle to keep his wooden sword at bay, but he's a fine swordsman.
You go on in that fashion for a while, until when he wrenches your wooden sword out of your grasp, using his own. Then, you pounce on him, your skirt fluttering noisily as you pin him down on the ground, his wooden sword out of his reach. You smirk. ''I won.'', you say, grinning. He smiles and flips you around. ''Are you sure of that?'', he replies, his eyebrows raised as he smirks mockingly, holding your arms up above your head. You can feel his minty breath on your face. He's so close the tip of your noses almost touch. You smile, and Jon leans down and kisses you lightly on the lips.