The Strength of Her // SansaxSandor (On Hiatus)

Chapter 6

06. Practicing Lies

Winterfell fell into a certain routine with its new guests over the next couple of days.

Jon handpicked several swordsmen—and a swordswoman—to begin training the younger abled bodies of the allied houses. Training would be performed in separate groups, each being taught in a different style by a different skilled fighter. When deemed by Jon to be well enough equipped, groups would face one another. The young were all very eager to learn how to use a sword properly and as a serious adult, and most hoped for the chance to impress Jon as he watched.

Some of the lords were still had skewed thoughts on some of Jon's new announcements. Girls too would be included in the new training schedule, and they couldn't get over the idea of putting a sword in their daughter or granddaughter, but were all too hard pressed to push their male offspring into the courtyard training areas.

Brienne offered to train the girls herself and help to make them understand they're just as capable of wielding a sword as any man. Jon had thought about her request, but he and Sansa came up with another, more uncomfortable arrangement. The girls would not be looked after by Brienne but by the most experienced and well-known men. Displeased with training girls or not, they would not let something like gender get a chance at putting a black mark on their reputation. Brienne would be in charge of those on the other end of the spectrum—young men who thought too highly of themselves. Sansa knew Brienne would be able to pound down their pride, and the woman made no complaint. The same could not be said for all those young men.

Some of that fatherly pride too wore off begrudgingly quick when sons stepped up to test their thought to be expert skills against Brienne.

Sansa watched the training session ensue one morning as she circled the grounds. Brienne was standing straight and tall, her sword in hand as she watched the young men rattle their brains on how best to attack her. Head on, loud and clumsy, and without real tactic was what they often decided upon. Each time, without fail, all but Brienne ended with their faces hitting the ground. The knight was unhurt and kept an even breath while each young swordsman rubbed new forming bruises as they took in frosty air through their panting mouths.

When Sansa came closer, Brienne bowed in her presences—something Sansa on more than one occasion explained she did not have to do each time. Sansa nodded in response. "How goes training?" She made sure her back was toward the boys to make their conversation a bit more private.

Brienne scowled. "And I thought Podrick needed work."

The two women turned around just to see a new face come stumbling forward with an arrogant strut that could be spotted from miles away. The handsome young man loosely grasped the hilt of his sword, letting the clearly new forged steel scrap against the muddied ground. Any smith would be cringing at such a sight. He seemed to miss the glares from Brienne or the sniggers from his nearby comrades who knew well his late arrival was not going to be rewarded. They all relished in the idea of someone else getting the heat of punishment. It was only when he was within their circle that Sansa realized it was the same young man who had been so loud and brash at the feast not more than two nights before.

"You're late, Kensey" Brienne stated, stepping away from Sansa and toward her pupil. He voice was low and irritated, but Sansa didn't know if it was from his late arrival or because he had bothered to show up at all.

"It's Lord Kensey to you," he snapped, half to Brienne, half to his peers, as if he couldn't be burdened to speak directly to her. The others continued to snigger. "If I remember correctly, knights answer to lords."

This was all as expected. Some of the men had troubles accepting girls being trained while some of the young couldn't fathom being instructed by one, it matters not how great she was. Both would quickly have to get over it.