Big Training Ground - Winterfell - The North, Westeros
There was still time until the White Walkers would reach them, and everyone had been keeping themselves busy. Already, two war councils had taken place, but not much progress had been made since the lords could not fully agree on one plan or the other.
Thus, Jon agreed to stop it for the day and try again tomorrow; hopefully with new ideas and more willingness to work with one another. How they would position their armies was crucial, for it would make the difference in the battle, as well as how many innocents would perish.
So far, they had only managed to agree on traps, pits, and other physical objects that would be used to slow down the undead army; forcing smaller numbers to approach and making them easier to deal with.
After the council was done, Visenya chose to change her clothes to something more practical and train with her two sons. It had been too long since the three of them trained, and she wished to test them, to ensure they would be ready for the big battle.
For it was different fighting other men or knights than fighting undead mindless creatures in a tough environment. It would also help all of them get their minds off things, especially her; since she still had not received the best of hospitality from the Northern Lords.
Thankfully, those angry looks had started to be reduced in numbers as either they had gotten tired of the fact that she paid them no mind or slowly started to grow bored and tried to find something else to occupy themselves.
Visenya wore her training but also riding gear, one she had obtained in the past few years and had favoured during the War of the Five Kings. It was not armour, but it was not a dress that could easily get in the way.
She had the usual black pants and her knee-length boots that she wore almost daily, but it was the top that was different. She had a black, long-sleeved, high turtleneck tunic. Above it, she wore a sleeveless bloody red jacket. The buttons were going downwards, starting from her chest and stopping a little above her belly button.
The rest of the jacket was left open to fall by her sides, stopping by the middle of her thighs. She had a brown belt tied around her waist, above the jacket, where her sword was held, and both of her thighs had the knife belts with her Valyrian daggers.
From the elbow and below, she had a thin armour-like armguard shaped to mimic dragon scales, in black. She also had black gloves to protect her hands from the low temperatures, and her hair had been pulled up into a bun.
Unlike her, the boys chose to favour their usual clothes, but they had ditched the leather jackets for now; to be able to move freely as they were facing against their mother.
They did their best, and this unique combination had drawn a curious crowd, most of whom watched from a distance or the upper levels of the castle.
Visenya had her Valyrian sword in her left hand and a simple wooden round shield in her right, to be able to fight better against two opponents. Jaime and Trystan had their swords ready and were busy trying to land a hit on her, but she was proving to be rather good at blocking them.
Jaime tried his luck while Trystan recovered for a moment, and his sword found hers, the sound of metal against metal echoing across the grounds. He tried to attack her from different directions, bringing his sword fast and smoothly as he had practised.
She blocked each one though, preventing him from landing a hit on her. She had even managed to hit him with her shield a couple of times, much to his embarrassment.
"Better, but you left me an opening," Visenya instructed as she blocked his sword with her shield and then used one leg to kick him in the chest.
Indeed, Jaime had left an opening for her, and she took advantage; making him stumble back a few feet and regain his balance.
At the same time, Trystan chose to try his luck now that she was occupied, but she had seen him. She blocked his attacks with her shield, but she could feel her arm getting tired from each landing strike.
Her son was taller and stronger, using both to his advantage to try and disarm her of her shield. However, that was also his weakness before he left her an opening.
She brought her shield up, blocking one of his attacks early before she bent and ducked forward; right beneath his lifted arm. As she passed beneath his arm and moved to stand behind him, she hit him with the blunt side of her blade on his leg.
This little taunting seemed to work because he turned and tried to attack her once again; always mindful of his footing and the way he positioned his body. Yet, once again, his attacks were blocked on repeat.
In an attempt to strike her lower, hoping to catch her off guard; his mother just did a side mid-air spin as she had done in Dorne. She passed above his blade and landed gracefully on her feet, letting her son silently grow more frustrated.
Visenya fixed the grip on her sword and started to slowly circle the two brothers, who expected her to attack first.
"You are two against one. Use that," she instructed them, since they were not used to fighting side by side.
This was one more reason why she wished to train with them a few times before the fight. Not only to hone her skills but also to teach them that in this fight, they would have to fight next to other soldiers and work together; to defeat the undead enemy.
The two brothers exchanged a look as Visenya took a moment to slowly catch her breath. She was not the young woman she used to be, where she had the energy to spar like that for hours on end.
However, she used the chance to push her body and ensure she was in the best shape to fight. In her defence, fighting most of the time on top of a horse had made her body forget how it was to fight non-stop on the ground.
Getting the message at last, Trystan and Jaime nodded to one another before they started to move. Jaime started to go slightly towards the right and Trystan to the left, hoping to somehow trap or attack her from two different fronts.
Which they did, a few seconds later.
Visenya had to take a big step back to avoid them and then use both shield and sword to block them as one was trying to attack her right side and the other was trying to attack her left. She kept blocking each attack, sometimes managing to push their swords back and giving herself a moment to move further away.
Yet, this technique only saved her a second or two to catch her breath as she slowly found herself being led further and further back. Jaime managed to land a good hit, and the Dragoness was forced to toss the shield to the side since it was not helping her anymore.
"Not bad," she commented, flexing the fingers of her right hand faintly as she started to move to the side, and they copied her.
"Getting tired, Mother?" Jaime asked, a smirk playing on his lips.
It had been too long since he had sparred with her, let alone made her sweat, and he was feeling rather proud of it. He had practised a lot, even with Trystan while they made their way towards Winterfell.
He had become better, and while he was not the star swordsman he used to be, he was better than most. Now, with Trystan helping him, he was even better since they both managed to push their mother back, something that they had never managed to do before.
Trystan had not spoken a word, his face dead serious and his eyes always locked on the form of his mother. Even when he attacked, he barely made a sound and if he did, it would be quick intakes of breath or even the faintest of grunts when his sword would meet her shield.
He was determined and focused, careful with his moves and, surprisingly, rather brutal. One could see the strength behind his attacks, not holding back even when he was sparring against his mother.
Now, with Jaime backing him up, he became a little more reckless. He kept track of where his brother was and, like his mother advised him, he was trying to work with him and attack around the same time.
Based on how she finally got rid of that annoying shield, it was evident that they were on a good path.
"Now, don't get too cocky. My sword is still in my hand," Visenya answered Jaime as they met halfway.
She worked hard to block both of them, many times forced to duck or pull her body back while she was constantly defending. She was good at keeping their swords away from her body, but she was getting tired.
Plus, she was not able to land any hits on them as she was busy defending and defending and defending.
Eventually, she was forced to bring her blade horizontally to block their attacks. Both boys had thought of attacking her from a higher angle, and she managed to block both of them. However, due to the force they were using; she had to place her palm flat against her blade to keep resistance.
She moved one of her legs a step back and bent the knee, trying to ease the tension on her legs and continue keeping resistance; preventing them from tossing her to the ground. Yet, even a fool could see that she was not going to be able to escape from that... or so they would think.
She locked eyes with both of her sons but then noticed the gap they had left between them, just enough for a well-planned attack. She mentally counted in her mind as she got her body ready for one last move.
She bent her elbows a little bit more, forcing them to lean slightly more forward. The sword remained above her head, not bringing it any closer to her face.
2...
The knee that was bent and had been moved back started to get ready. This would be where all the speed and quick start would come from, and she ensured her footing was stable enough, considering the faint traces of snow left on the ground.
1...
She took a deep breath, feeling her arms aching from the force, but she was ready.
Now!
With an audible grunt, she moved the sword back; right above her head and eventually got rid of it. The movement caused the boys to lean even more forward since they were supporting a big part of their weight on her and her sword.
The bent knee kicked off dirt and snow as she used it to eject forward, right in the gap between the two Lions. Her knees bent again, this time both of them, as she slid on the ground by using the momentum of the first push.
She moved between them as they stepped forward to regain their footing. In these few seconds, she had managed to lift herself to her feet while her now free hands grabbed a dagger from each thigh-belt.
With a quick spin of her body, she stood up and wrapped a hand around the neck of each Lion; her daggers held rather close to their skin and jugulars.
The feeling of the cold sharp blade that suddenly appeared on their skin made Jaime and Trystan freeze, who had never seen that move or the next part of her plan.
"What the..." Jaime exclaimed, lips parted in surprise and confusion; an expression his brother shared at that moment.
"Drop them, boys," she told them through small quick pants, and they obeyed; tossing the swords on the ground, a sign of surrender.
Satisfied but also sore from pushing her body to that extent, Visenya pulled her daggers back and also took a few steps to put some distance between her and them. She kept panting, her legs and hands sore, but she felt good; having challenged herself to a proper sparring, something she had only done once recently, and that was while they were at Dorne.
"Mother, that was cheating," Trystan pointed out as he and Jaime bent to pick up their fallen swords.
The Dragoness smirked.
"You think anyone you fight will play fairly?" she asked as she bent slightly and sheathed her daggers, one at each thigh.
"This is not considered cheating. This is a woman playing smart against two men," a familiar voice commented, and the woman of the hour rolled her eyes as Oberyn made his way towards them. He offered her his signature toothy grin as he came to a halt close to her fallen sword.
"Striking like a snake, haven't I told you?"
Visenya did not comment on it and merely walked towards her fallen sword, straightening her back in the process.
"Yeah, this snake is getting too old for such tricks," she commented, earning a small chuckle of amusement from the Dornish Prince. "Not all of us are used to spinning and dancing to be able to pull such moves," she continued, this time her words addressed towards the cocky man standing in front of her.
"Ah, well... had you chosen to come to Dorne with me, you would have a different lifestyle and no such problems," he commented, bringing his face closer and right into her personal space.
The two Lions walked their way, sheathing their swords as well. Their cheeks and noses were faintly red from the sparring but also the cold, their pants coming out in white visible puffs. They were used by now to the comments coming from the Dornish Prince or the informality between them, having gotten plenty of them while at Dorne.
"I wouldn't say you are old, good-mother. I pray to the Seven I can fight as well when I reach your age," Jaime commented, earning a small smirk from her.
"I wouldn't say to think of me as an example. Your father and Ser Barristan are older than me and still very good fighters. Pray to be like them," she commented, earning a small scoff from Oberyn; and all three of them knew it was his way to mock Tywin and his skills on the battlefield.
She glanced his way.
"No comment."
"What makes you think I was about to make any?" Oberyn asked her, keeping his cheeky and playful smirk on his lips.
Visenya did not comment but gave him an I know you better than you think look that only seemed to boost his ego and his mood.
"Considering this and what you did at Dorne, I wonder what other kind of tricks you have up your sleeve," Trystan pointed out. "And tricks you apparently never taught me."
Her smirk grew, offering both boys a sight of her pearly white teeth.
"Because some things... are mine exclusively," she answered.
She moved the tip of her boot beneath her sword. Due to the thickness of the handle and the armguard, there was a small gap and a part where the sword did not touch the ground. She placed the tip of her foot there and with one good kick upwards, sent the sword flying up.
She caught the handle mid-air and winked at the surprised looks of her sons before she sheathed her sword as well.
Oberyn chuckled and placed his lower arm on her shoulder, supporting himself faintly.
"Come to Dorne and I will show you all kinds of tricks to use, I promise you there will be no lady you cannot charm with them," he commented, earning an eye-roll from her.
"Just make sure you do not return with babies in your arms," she commented, not seeming to mind the move Oberyn pulled.
"Mother!" Trystan hissed, the edges of his ears turning a faint pink as Jaime started to laugh; enjoying just how casually he was called out.
The Dragoness kept her smirk, taking personal joy in embarrassing her son faintly; her rather innocent son, to be more precise. She moved her shoulder a few times, ensuring Oberyn stopped leaning on her because the last thing she needed was for Tywin to have one more reason to pass him with a sword.
As if he did not have enough already and was simply looking for the best chance to do so.
The whole training between mother and sons had drawn quite a crowd, most having come while the spar was mid-way. They had heard the sound of blades clashing and were surprised to see Visenya holding her own against two opponents, with only a sword and a shield.
Elder Lords and soldiers, who were more familiar with her past achievements, knew that she was a seasoned fighter and had a taste of true combat. However, few were truly lucky before to see the extent of how skilful she could be; considering how rare it was for a woman to hold a weapon.
Those who did not know her were surprised by her good footing and her ability to not only block the two Lions but land a few strikes as well. Of course, she did not fight like a knight but had a rather diverse style; that very few had seen.
She was rather swift and light on her feet, making sure not to stay in one place too long. This allowed her to stay on her toes and react faster to incoming attacks. It also gave her an advantage to find openings or use the momentum of her opponents against them.
The rather fancy mid-spin in the air or ducking under one's arm was rather new and unexpected but paired well with her body and fighting type.
Arya was among the few who were very interested in the sparring and was observing silently, standing side by side with her sister. A small smile had subconsciously formed on her lips as she saw the two Lions struggling.
The young Stark absorbed every move, every little trick the Dragoness used; for the first time being able to see her truly fight. She had heard that she was good, she remembered what Tyrion had told her about her fighting style, but nothing could compare to the real thing.
When she tricked the boys and managed to sneak behind them, only to use her daggers; Arya was intrigued. She thought of such a move and she made a point to try it one day, using an opening to move behind her opponent and get her blade to their neck.
Sansa, on the other hand, was watching with mostly an emotionless mask on. Occasionally, she would tense her grip on the wooden railing or chew her bottom lip; every time Trystan would get a hit or would be cornered into a tough position.
She admired Visenya for her fighting, but her eyes were mostly on the young Lion, who fought valiantly and skilfully; doing his best to give his mother a rough time, especially when her shield was dropped.
It was the first time she had the chance to truly observe him fighting, without worrying that she would die like how it happened in King's Landing. Even when the sparring was over, her attention was on the faintly flustered Trystan.
"You fancy him," Arya pointed out, snapping Sansa from her staring.
"What?" the older Stark girl exclaimed. "Who?" she asked, trying to play clueless.
Unfortunately for her, her sister had a rather keen eye.
"Trystan. You haven't taken your eyes off him. I also saw how often you two went for walks around the castle."
Sansa looked the other way, trying to hide the blush that was threatening to appear on her pale cheeks.
"I do not fancy him... we are just catching up since King's Landing. He was kind to me and he is an interesting character... that is all."
"Right," her sister said, moving her hands behind her back. Her attention went back to the training grounds, seeing Visenya talking with the boys and Prince Oberyn joining them.
"What do you think of the Dornish Prince?" she asked Sansa, who might have a little more insight since she was in King's Landing longer than Arya.
She focused her attention on Oberyn, seeing him resting his arm on Visenya and casually leaning on her faintly; as if those two were long-time friends.
"I didn't have the chance to truly get to know him... in King's Landing..." she admitted. "I heard that he is a big flirt, though, and that he had multiple children and mistresses. Why?"
"No reason," Arya quickly answered, shrugging her shoulders while observing the interaction between him and Visenya.
Around the same time, another person was busy watching the sparring between a Dragon and the Lions.
Daenerys was walking side by side with Missandei, talking like they usually did. She always enjoyed her presence, her advice, and generally her company. Considering there were almost no other women in her army, it was also logical that those two had come rather close.
Yet, they stopped strolling and instead decided to watch as Daenerys' aunt was busy sparring and practising with her two sons.
The Mother of Dragons had not seen a lot of battles, especially the ones one would call training. In addition, she had never seen her aunt holding a weapon but more than once Ser Barristan had told her that she was rather good at it.
Specifically, Ser Barristan had been the one to train Visenya in the sword, shield, dagger, and even horse riding; at least until she got the basics of it. The rest, according to him, she invented and perfected on her own.
It was odd for her to see her fighting, with the energy and grace of someone half her age. In addition, she had never seen women fight; especially that well, but was intrigued. It gave Daenerys a chance to observe and get a better idea of who her aunt was.
Missandei must have sensed her thoughts or seen where her primary focus was, for she chose to bring up the topic.
"Your aunt... she is rather unique. I have met Westerosi men and women before, but she does not seem to be like them," the former translator said, standing next to the Targaryen.
"She is... Ser Barristan kept saying she was different from others..." she agreed, pressing her lips faintly against one another.
She was different from the others; did that mean she might see her niece differently? She might act differently from the others and take her side.
"You should talk to her," Missandei said, making Daenerys look at her. "It is clear that you wish to talk, and I am sure she feels the same. You are family and you deserve to know."
The Mother of Dragons looked back at her aunt, seeing how she pulled a sneaky move to finish the sparring; and crown herself the winner. A small smile formed on her lips, especially seeing how she smiled and casually talked with the two Lions; who were her family.
"I want to... I just don't know when... or even what to say to her," she confessed and let out a sigh, her violet eyes always on that Valyrian headband with the red rubies she wore; as if wishing to remind everyone that she was a Queen of her own.
"You don't have to say something specific," her friend said. "Start with something small. The rest will come."
Daenerys did not say anything to it, clearly thinking about it. Her violet eyes remained on the form of her aunt, but then something was telling her to look up at the other side of the castle walls.
Her attention went to the cold-natured and ruthless old Lion that technically was her good-uncle. His eyes were narrowed dangerously, and even from that distance, one could sense his annoyance and anger.
He was glaring at the Dornish Prince and his proximity to Visenya, body stiff and mind debating whether it would be worth killing Oberyn now or not. Yet, he made no direct move, but somehow others seemed to have sensed his sharp predatory gaze for the lion family eventually looked in his direction; the boys dropping their newfound smiles.
She had yet to understand what relationship Visenya had with him and what kind of man he truly was. All those stories, all those rumours... they often clashed with one another, and she knew that she could only learn the truth from the Dragon's mouth.
Yet, the main reason she truly wished to know... was merely to understand the connection Visenya had with the Lannisters. If what Tyrion said was true and she would choose them over her niece and Blood of the Dragon, then that meant she had a very strong bond with all of them; one she could not truly see, not now at least.