(Every character depicted in the story below is a consenting legal adult over the age of 18)
A/N: Axel and Jon have their spar, from the eyes of Queen Sansa Stark~
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Sansa isn't worried for Jon as she follows him and her husband to the nearest courtyard. It happens to be empty as well, rather than the yard where she'd had Ser Sandor take Arya to see Lady Brienne. The Kingsguard had finished that errand by now and returned to Sansa's side as well, making it just the three of them along with Clegane watching from nearby.
And hadn't Arya's arrival been quite the shock? Sansa already knew how her parents would react when they found out where her sister was. They would demand Arya be returned to Winterfell immediately. Or at least, Sansa's mother would. Their father… he might be convinced to let Arya stay for a little while if the letter was worded properly…
Leaning against a column, a hand on her gravid belly, Sansa smiles as she watches Axel grab two blunted swords from the rack and lob one through the air to Jon. To his credit, while he's caught a little off guard by the throw, Jon nevertheless manages to catch the sword, something that Sansa can tell gains him a bit more of Axel's approval.
"Alright then, let's see what you're capable of, Jon Snow. Come at me with all you've got. Don't hold anything back now, you hear?"
Despite the orders from his King, Jon nevertheless hesitates as he sets aside his cloak and pulls off his sword belt. Moving a bit in a way Sansa knows is to help him limber up, the Night's Watch Brother nevertheless frowns slightly as he turns to face Axel.
"… I've heard a lot about you, Your Grace. If even half of what I've been told is true, then I don't stand a chance in this fight."
Sansa winces a little at that. On the one hand, at least Jon is being honest. Axel likes it when people are blunt with him. On the other hand, she can guess Axel's response even before it comes…
"And? Tell me, these hundred wights who attacked you and your uncle… did you stand a chance against them before the wildlings saved your lives?"
Jon blinks before slowly shaking his head.
"I… no? No we didn't. They had us dead to rights if it wasn't for Ygritte and her comrades…"
Sansa perks up at that. Ygritte, eh? So Jon had met a wildling woman. And she thinks she hears something in his voice… something he's doing his best to hide. She wonders if Axel hears it to. If he does, her husband shows no signs of it.
"But you still fought, didn't you? Before the wildlings, before this Ygritte pulled your asses out of the fire, you fought. You didn't just lay down and die, I would hope."
"… Aye. We fought."
Axel grins a ferocious grin, his eyes glittering with excitement as he lifts up his sword and points it at Jon.
"Then fight me, Jon Snow. Show me a man who fights a hundred wights even knowing he can't possibly win. Show me a man who refuses to lay down and die, no matter the odds."
That, Sansa can tell, gets her brother well and good, just as Axel intended. Jon's dark eyes turn flinty and his jaw sets in determination. One moment he's still standing in place… the next he's moving forward, charging in with a shout as he swings his sword.
He's fast for a normal man, but Sansa has watched Axel spar at this point… and she's even seen him hold nothing back from time to time at her asking. Compared to the speeds that Axel can move, Jon is… well, it's actually not really even fair to compare the two, now is it?
Axel blocks Jon's first strike, of course. And then he blocks the next one, and the one after that. He stays completely on the defensive, but it's telling that he doesn't bother with any dodging. Instead, the King of Westeros stands his ground, letting Jon swing on him but giving no room, his feet anchored in place.
Sansa can tell that this catches Jon off guard. But then, any mortal man would be shocked by an opponent that doesn't give way, that doesn't even react to your sword swings. Just from the speed of Jon's blows, Sansa can tell that there's plenty of strength in her half-brother's arms. He's certainly no weakling and he wields the blunted sword well from everything that she knows.
Of course, as much as Sansa enjoys watching men engage in sword play, she's also well aware that she's not an expert on the subject matter. As such, as Jon continues to assail her husband and Axel continues to play the part of implacable, immovable fortress, Sansa turns her head towards Ser Sandor standing nearby.
"You have a better eye for this sort of thing than I do, Ser Sandor. How does Jon measure up?"
The scarred Kingsguard looks over at her for a moment before looking back to the fight. Sansa waits patiently for his response, knowing that he's not ignoring her so much as he's considering his answer. Even if he would never say it himself, Sandor Clegane was probably one of the strongest warriors in the Kingsguard at this point. He was definitely one of the finest knights in the entirety of the Seven Kingdoms.
To hear people speak of it, Sandor Clegane had been a capable fighter even before catching the eye of her husband. But once Axel got his hands on him, the Hound had become the King's most frequent sparring partner. Axel had mentioned it a few times to Sansa, how he'd turned himself into a whetstone for Sandor's steel, honing the other man into a peerless swordsman.
Of course, Sandor only saw the impossible peak before him and completely missed the fact that he'd left pretty much everyone else outside of maybe Ser Arys and Lady Brienne in his dust in the process. All Sandor Clegane knew was that he would never surpass his King. It kept him humble in a way many other knights… weren't.
"… He isn't bad, Your Highness. Very capable for his age."
Sansa raises an eyebrow, even as the corner of her mouth quirks up in amusement as well. That was high praise from Ser Sandor, but there was clearly a 'but' in there somewhere.
"And yet?"
Huffing, the Kingsguard shakes his head.
"He has a temper."
That surprises Sansa and she glances over to Axel and Jon again, her brow furrowing incredulously. A temper? Jon? She couldn't recall a single time he'd flown into a rage throughout their entire childhood. He had always been perfectly composed, even as Sansa's mother had made life extraordinarily difficult for him, all because of things out of his control.
Sure, maybe he could get surly from time to time, but a temper? She just couldn't see it. Although… now that she's looking at them a bit more closely, she can tell that Jon is getting… irate. Axel is continuing to play his game of implacable defense. His feet haven't moved a single time since their spar started. In fact, Sansa isn't even sure whether he's moved his body outside of his arms.
Not to mention, at this point Axel has started wielding his sword with just one hand and nevertheless continues to manage to block and turn aside every single blow Jon makes. Even when the Night's Watch Brother gets behind Axel and swings at his back, the King refuses to turn with him and instead manages some truly impossible blocks behind himself with that one arm.
This has Jon huffing and puffing from exertion… but not just exertion. His face is scrunched up in concentration… but not just concentration. Sansa's eyes widen slightly as she sees true, honest rage on her half-brother's face for the first time in her entire life. And then…
"FIGHT ME, YOU BASTARD!"
Sansa's jaw drops open at Jon's uncharacteristic shout. It explodes out of him, clearly unintended judging by the way he jolts at his own voice afterwards. Beside her, Sandor lets out a rough chuckle. And out in the courtyard… Axel gives Jon what he asked for, suddenly moving. He doesn't move as fast as he actually can, Sansa notices. Yet it's still faster than most mortal men.
Jon barely manages to get his sword up to block the first blow. He stumbles back on the second and is forced into a full fighting retreat by the third. To his credit, her brother doesn't give in, doesn't give up, and doesn't even consider surrendering. His face sets into a look of determined concentration, even as he finds himself hunted and hounded, chased down and ultimately beaten black and blue.
Indeed, Sansa winces when the first of Axel's too-fast blows finally slips past Jon's flagging guard. He starts to get tired… and Sansa's husband punishes him for it. Each blow that would have cut or killed if this weren't blunted steel, represents a guaranteed bruise by tomorrow morning.
And yet, Jon keeps fighting. He doesn't falter… and Axel respects that by continuing to strike at him. It gets to the point where Sansa can't take it anymore. And maybe that marks her as just another 'weak' woman… but sometimes bullheaded men need 'weak' women to tell them when they're being idiots. That's why Axel married two, after all.
"Enough!"
Axel stops mid swing, a mere inch away from connecting with Jon's body again. Jon, panting and heaving and barely staying on his feet, stutters to a stop as well, looking over to her with a frown. But Sansa simply straightens up and lifts her nose imperiously.
"As your Queen, I say that's enough."
Jon's frown grows, but Axel just laughs.
"Well, you heard her. When the Queen speaks, men must listen."
Her half-brother shoots the King an incredulous look, but Axel just grins.
"That was a good bout, Jon Snow. You are a true warrior… and I suspect you're an honorable man too. I'll talk to my Lord Stannis about sending supplies and men to the Wall to help reinforce the Night's Watch starting tomorrow. And I'll also send a raven to Lord Commander Mormont giving my Royal Decree that this Mance Rayder and his little army will be allowed to approach the Wall and shelter under it so long as they stay on their side of it for now. This will hopefully allow them to keep the wights at bay until I can deal with the problem myself in a couple more weeks."
Jon looks pleased by that first part but a little rankled by the second. But Axel just holds up a hand, cutting off anything that the other man might have said in protest.
"It will have to be this way for now, I'm afraid. The Wildlings and Walkers that threaten the North are but one issue I find myself currently dealing with. The other is far more… time sensitive."
Right, the issue with Daenerys Targaryen and the trap that Axel had prepared with House Martell down in Dorne. Sansa had to admit that, given everything Jon had said about the situation up north, Daenerys and her dragons were the more imminent threat for the time being.
Her fleet was said to be less than a week away at this point and Sansa shivered to think what would happen to the Dornish if Axel was not there to stop the last Targaryen in her tracks. No, as much as she might want to claim her homeland should take priority, Sansa was well aware that was just her bias talking.
That's why, when Jon shoots her a quick questioning glance, as if to ask if she agreed with Axel, Sansa just smiles softly and nods in silence. Letting out an explosive breath and then grimacing as his bruised ribs make themselves known, Jon just grunts and nods to the King.
"… As you say, Your Grace. Thank you."
Axel grunts before reaching out and clasping Jon's arm in his own. He nearly pulls the other man off balance as he drags him close and speaks in a clear tone.
"I am putting my faith in your judgment, Jon Snow. By forcing the Night's Watch to allow Mance Rayder and his army to get so close, I make them far more vulnerable than they otherwise would be… especially if it turns out that survival is NOT the main priority for this mass of wildlings. I only hope that the Walker threat is real… and enough to keep them in line until I am free to deal with them myself."
… Of course he wanted to fly up there and handle things all on his lonesome once the threat of Daenerys and her dragons was no longer looming over their heads. Sansa sighs and shakes her head in exasperation, already making plans to team up with Arianne and the others to hopefully convince Axel to at least take SOMEONE with him when he decides to fly north of the Wall.
Jon swallows thickly and bows his head after a moment.
"I understand, Your Grace. I believe they can be reasoned with. They are men and women, just like us. Not like the dead things that hunt them, or their frozen masters. The Free Folk are not the enemy; I fully believe that."
Humming, Axel smiles mirthlessly.
"I hope you're right, Jon Snow. Sandor! Take our guest here to the rooms that have been prepared for him. I suggest a nice bath, Jon. Soaking in the right mix of warm water and herbs before the bruises start to develop is said to help with the healing process. Or so I've been told, anyways."
Axel grins wickedly at that, even as Jon snorts in dry amusement and lets Sandor lead him away. Sansa moves to join Axel at that point, prompting the King to look at her as he puts the blunted swords back on their rack. After a moment, her husband sighs and gives her a side eye.
"He's telling the truth as far as he believes it. I know that much."
Sansa nods in agreement.
"Jon isn't the type to lie. Not even for a girl."
The way Axel doesn't react to that makes it clear he DID in fact catch her brother's earlier slip in regard to this 'Ygritte' woman. Instead of being surprised or confused, he just chuckles and shakes his head.
"Still, it's fortunate that we can put off that problem for a little while longer. I'm sorry Sansa, and I would hate to have to choose, but if they did overlap…"
Axel grimaces, leaving the hard part unsaid. But Sansa hears it loud and clear all the same. If Daenerys Targaryen decided to invade Westeros the same day or week that the Wildlings decided to attack the Wall, Axel would have to prioritize Daenerys and her dragons first.
After all, the Wall might be able to hold against the wildling army and if it didn't, the North probably could until he was free. Daenerys and her dragons, on the other hand… if they were allowed to run amok in the Seven Kingdoms, entire castles could burn.
Stepping forward, Sansa draws her husband into a hug.
"I know Axel. Its alright. We have time… in both cases, we still have time."
Axel swallows hard and slowly nods.
"Yes. Everything is going to work out in our favor. Daenerys and her fleet have fallen right into our trap and-"
"Y-YOUR GRACE! My King!"
Cut off, Axel blinks and turns with Sansa doing the same as an out of breath assistant to Grandmaester Marwyn comes racing up with a scrap of paper in his hands. A missive by raven.
"Word… w-word from Dragonstone, Your Grace!"
Axel's brow furrows, even as Sansa's heart begins to sink. She's not sure how she knows, but even before he grabs the message and reads it, she has a feeling what it will say. Even before Axel staggers, looking downright pale for the first time she's ever seen, she knows what will come from his lips as he turns to her, his eyes wide with horror.
"The Targaryen… is on Dragonstone with all three of her dragons. She burned the half of the Royal Fleet docked there to cinders while they were still at anchor."
Sansa grimaces, afraid that was what he was going to say.
"What of Lord Davos and his family?"
Axel's horror and pale pallor swiftly turns to anger and fury as he clenches his hand into a fist, crushing the slip of parchment in the process.
"I don't know. But she'd better hope she doesn't harm a single hair on any of their heads. Whatever she does to him and his kin… I'll visit upon her, her dragons, and anyone who follows her a hundredfold."
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A/N: DUN DUN DUUUUUUN!
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