The duel

Arriving in the castle's courtyard, Bran saw Rickon on the ground gripping his right leg.

"Where in the seven hells were you? You could've at least distracted so I wouldn't get so beaten." He complained still on the ground. Some of the men who were there watching helped the boy up, getting him to a pile of hay where he wouldn't get on the way.

"He was right, you know? Now you'll have to face me alone." Jon playfully teased with him with a smile. Normally, Bran would've feel threatened by this sort of comment, but he merely dismissed it this time.

"Alright, just remember to keep your footwork and your torso firm, and never stop looking at your opponent." The bastard continued, getting on his stance. The Stark got on his own stance holding his sword in front of him.

Jon feigned a blow to his head only to sweep at his torso. Bran blocked the strike without much trouble and retreated to a distance he felt more comfortable, which was, in the case of facing Jon, as far away as possible. He did not feel cowardly for that.

The Snow decided to play his younger brother's game for a while, just testing his stance and footwork. Bran matched each of his opponent's movements properly.

He felt that he'd always had a strong defence. Unfortunately for him, defence alone was not enough to best Jon Snow. He was not as swift as his brother and barely matched his strength. There had to be something he should lest he lose that fight.

He was surprised as Jon jumped forward going for a trust. Bran slapped the slab of steel out of his face, countering with a slash which his older brother effortlessly dodged by stepping backwards.

The duel had been going as it usually went. Jon on the offensive and the young lord just trying to keep up. This time there was something different however.

Bran felt lighter than usual, more flexible. He would normally be tired, but thinking about Arya's kiss gave him the will to fight. He was sure she was watching, and he didn't want to look like a wimp in front of her.