The Bastards of Winterfell (A Game of Thrones Fanfic)

Chapter Twenty

"Would that have been the fight with the squire?"

I smiled at the memory, unconsciously touching the scar that still adorned my right eyebrow, "Strangely enough Robb didn't throw a single punch that day, and it was Jon that had started that fight."

"But you joined in."

"I wasn't about to let him have all the fun. If he could jump in to defend my honor, I believe I had every right to try and defend his." I jested earning a laugh that was all too scant as a frown formed on her face

"Sansa would never get into a fight to defend me."

I smiled sadly, knowing that was all too true, "No, she'd be too busy worrying about dirtying her dress, but I would be there in a heartbeat."

"Really?" her eyes brightened

"One hundred percent, pup. If Jon asks I'll deny it, but-" I moved closer, making a show of looking around to make sure no one would hear,"-you are my favorite." I nudged her once more, "Never doubt that I will be there for you no matter what. If anyone is giving you trouble, you find me and I will make them regret it."

"What happened to ignoring them?"

"That only applies when it's Jon or myself. Only the Gods could help any person who dares try and go after my baby sister. Do you not remember the Jeyne Poole 'horseface' incident?"

That girl had the audacity to compare my sister's face to that of an equestrian, so naturally, I had to have a little talk with her. Not much else I could have done, she was nine and I fourteen. It wasn't like I could beat her up, even my rage had its boundaries. I did make her cry though, at least a few buckets worth, but in the end she apologized.

"She never called me that again." she smiled proudly up at me

"Damn right, she didn't." I grinned, "Now, come, let us see what our brothers are up to."

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We found the boys down in the courtyard. Robb, Jon, and Theon were gathered around Bran as he shot an arrow. Rickon was seated close by on a saddle placed on the fence. Bran looked defeated as the projectile hadn't hit the target but instead found itself planted in a nearby barrel. "Don't give up, Bran," I called as we approached

"Arya! Come here this instant!" The weathered voice of Septa Mordane ordered

"Just what would that be about, pup?"

"I may have not had permission to leave the needle lesson earlier." she glanced over to the Septa, "Do I have to?"

"Yes, now go." I pushed her in the right direction, "Has he hit one yet?" I asked the boys

Robb smirked, "Not a one." 

Jon moved to stand on the other side of Bran, crouching down to put an arm around his shoulders, "Go on, Father's watching," The two cast a glance up to the walkway behind them, and sure enough, there was Father and Catelyn, "and your mother." Bran shakily notched another arrow and released. The arrow soared through the air...right over the target.

This failure sent all the boys into hysterics, and I couldn't help but feel a little bad for him as I joined in the laughter, "And which one of you was a marksman at ten?" Father spoke, an amused grin on his face, "Keep practicing, Bran. Go on."

Bran set up for another shot, "Don't think too much, Bran." Jon told him

He pulled the bowstring back, 'Release your bow arm." Robb instructed