The Shadow Queen of Tywin Lannister

LXXXVII. It's the Small Moments that Count

Shores of Blackwater Bay, King's Landing, CrownLands

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Visenya had kept her promise and had helped Jaime train along with Bronn. Tyrion had paid the sell-sword to help his brother and he did, when the Dragoness was not present; or when she had to leave early.

Considering she was naturally a left-handed person, it became easier for her to use the sword and through the years she had fixed her posture and technique to allow her to maximise her uniqueness.

Now, she was trying to pass it to Jaime although the progress was rather slow.

Swords clashed against one another, Valyrian steel met Valyrian steel as the two of them were sparring in an isolated part of the shores of Blackwater Bay. The sand beneath their feet bent and was kicked away with each step as the lion tried his hardest to keep up.

Since both were using their left hand, their blades were always diagonally from one another; thus both had to make up by protecting their more exposed sides. Visenya, after years of combat and practise, was quick to do that but Jaime's reactions were delayed.

She ducked beneath one of his attacks, spun her body and hit him with the blunt flat part of her blade on his torso. This seemed to annoy him as he quickly turned and tried to strike her down but she was elusive and quick.

She blocked his attack once, twice and by the third time, she had managed to knock his sword out of his hand and point her blade at him. She was panting, her hair had been pulled into a white ponytail but strands had escaped and fell on her face.

She was dressed in clothing she usually favoured, being a tunic with a vest and simple pants while he had kept his more formal pants, tunic and leather jacket on top; a style similar to his father.

"This is honestly useless. I will never be able to fight with my left hand" he complained as he walked to grab his sword, feeling the blade mocking him.

This was a fine sword, made of rare metal and was meant to be wielded by someone capable of fighting; not an one-handed cripple that could barely wipe his ass properly.

His good-mother lowered and sheathed her blade, watching him walk towards his fallen sword with his head lowered and her gaze softened. "It is not. Sword handling requires practice, Jaime. Remember when I used to tell you that when you were younger?" she asked him, remembering a younger Jaime losing to Rhaegar and getting demotivated by him.

"I do but what good is practice if there is no improvement?" he asked as he sheathed his sword and sat down on the sand.

"You might not see it but I do. You slowly make progress and there will be more if you do not let it go now" she advised and sat by his side.

Jaime grabbed his water pouch and drank some water, feeling how the sun was still burning above them but it was not that hot to wear a tunic alone. One would question when this winter was supposed to come since clearly it has been delayed.

He passed it to Visenya, who enjoyed some sips of the refreshing water down her throat before she pushed some of her stray strands out of her face. She lowered the pouch and looked ahead at the blue sea.

"Brienne paid me a visit not so long ago," she said, deciding to change the topic as they were taking a break. "She found out about the fate of the Starks and asked me if she could remain as Sansa's protector" she explained, earning a look from him. "I haven't discussed this with your father yet. I am planning after the wedding"

Jaime had heard about it, the so-called Red Wedding as everyone referred to it. Jaime had seen some fucked up shit, especially with Aerys burning people but what happened at the Twins truly disgusted him.