XVII. Acceptance

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Song: Sun by Sleeping At Last (another big cheesy Fianna/Robb song for ya)

Song: Sun by Sleeping At Last (another big cheesy Fianna/Robb song for ya)

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Fianna

She approached him, Ser Mick that is, as he was sitting on a wooden bench sharpening his blade carefully. He looked up from the shining sword when she sat next to him, a small smile on her lips in greeting.

"Hello," was all she said, wringing her hands together, almost as if she was nervous.

"Lady Fianna," he greeted softly, his gaze falling for a moment as he contemplated his next words. "I'm truly sorry about what happened to your m-"

"It's quite alright, Ser," she cut him off, eager to avoid talking about it. "I've been.. coming to terms with it. The guilt can be overbearing."

He nodded his head in respect of her wishes to change the subject. "You've lost your family longsword, I hear?"

"Yes, Wolfsbane was taken from me when I was captured. I wasn't able to retrieve it when I escaped," she murmured sadly. "Then again, I'm sure my ancestors will forgive me for it."

At that moment, an over-enthusiastic Arya Stark approached them from a run, slightly breathless from the speed with which she took to get to her.

"Come on, you said you'd spar with me!" Arya demanded causing Fianna to roll her eyes playfully and smile apologetically at Mick. She stood up and brushed off her breeches. Her sword, the one she had taken at Harrenhal during her escape, was fastened at her hip. She didn't part with it now, it was a reminder of her minor victory.

"Come on then, princess," Fianna spoke sarcastically.

She preferred to spar in breeches than in heavy armour, finding it easier to move around. Fianna had promised Arya that she would teach her the ways of sword fighting as she herself was taught for many years.

They went into the courtyard, Arya with her 'needle' in hand. It was a thin, short sword and Fianna wondered how the girl expected to get anywhere with that. But for her size and shape, it was probably best suited for her.

Fianna drew her sword from the scabbard and tossed the emptied sheath to the side, out of her way.

She positioned herself correctly, one foot back with her hands tightly gripping her sword. Fianna kept her eyes pinned on Arya and instructed her to follow her posture.

"Don't lean forward too much," Fianna told her, "don't be so stiff either."

Arya was getting frustrated. She had thought she had learned a great deal from Syrio Forel, but Fianna was nitpicking at every little thing she was doing and that made her think she wasn't so skilled after all.

"Give me what you've got," the older girl demanded, as Arya stepped forward and thrust needle at her. Fianna stepped back and hit her sword against Arya's, blocking it twice before rearing the sword around until it was against the side of Arya's head. Flat side of course, she didn't actually want to hurt her. "Dead."

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