Fffc Bingo Card - Learning to dance

[m_findlow]

Title: Learning to dance
Fandom: Game of Thrones
Characters: Arya, Syrio Forel
Author: m_findlow
Rating: M
Length: 500 words
Content notes: none
Author notes: Written for Bingo Card Prompt - Instinct at fffc
Summary: Arya must learn all kinds of lessons is she quakes to become a water dancer.

'Again,' Syrio commanded, belting Arya's backside with the flat of his wooden sword so hard it was all she could do not to let the yelp escape from her lips.

She'd be barely able to sit for dinner tonight judging by how hard he'd whacked her. Her bottom would be buried purple, as would many other places. It was lucky that most of her dresses were long sleeved and down to her ankles, not that she liked wearing dresses at all now that she had breeches and shirts she was allowed to wear for training with her sword master. Septa Mordane would be horrified by the mottling on her body, and her father might be equally displeased if he knew how badly her training seemed to be going. It didn't matter that she was up against someone as talented as Syrio Forel, by now she should at least be able to stop him from paddling her bottom.

'Don't scowl, boy,' Syrio barked. 'A water dancer does not scowl. He laughs in the face of his enemies.'

'I'm not scowling.'

'A water dancer also does not let his enemies goad him into anger.' Syrio swiped the wooden sword again, clipping her ankle this time whilst she stood there without even holding a defensive pose. 'Again.'

'I can't,' Arya said, throwing down her own wooden sword in frustration.

Syrio's bushy eyebrows rose all the way up into his equally thick black hair. 'Can't? What kind of a water dancer can't?'

'I'm not a water dancer.'

'And you never will be if you do not practice.'

Arya huffed a sigh. 'I've spent days chasing cats and standing tiptoe on the stairs. How is that supposed to help me learn to use a sword?'

'And have you caught any cays yet?'

'No, but...'

'And why is that?' Syrio queried, a curious expression on his face.

'They're too clever.'

Syrio leaned forward on his sword. 'Clever, you say? And if these cats are so clever, why is it that they have never built a castle, sailed across the Narrow Sea, or learned to wield a sword? Why is it that they do not sit on the throne instead of that pompous fat fool of a king?'

Arya felt startled. She'd never heard anyone openly say something like that about the King, even if he was fat.

'It is because they don't need to be clever,' he replied. 'They use instinct to anticipate their pursuer's movements. The learn to know what you will do before you do it. That is why you must learm to chase cats, my boy. You must learn to use your own instincts. Only when you have leaned to anticipate your opponent's actions, can you use your sword to defend against them. That is how Syrio Forel became the First Sword of Bravvos. I suffered many scratches before I was master cat catcher. All cats in Bravvos fear me. As they will you, if you practice. All cats should fear a wolf.'