Game Of Thrones... With A Twist

A Game of Thrones - Chapter 1

<Two years later, Courtyard, Winterfell, The North...>

An arrow that missed its target hit a barrel off to the side, causing a groan from young ten-year-old boy with auburn hair and bright blue eyes. He really felt like just throwing his bow to the ground and walk away in frustration... but he knew that he couldn't. 

He just wondered why the hell he couldn't hit the damn target.

A seventeen-year-old Jon Snow put his hand on Brandon Stark's shoulders as he spoke to his younger half-brother. "Go on. Father's watching." 

An older Robb Stark, Jon and young Bran turned to look up, where within a raised and sheltered platform, stood Lord Eddard Stark and Lady Catelyn Stark nee Tully, both watching their son. "And your mother." Jon added his emphasis, adding more pressure to Bran's already pressure-filled shoulders.

<Same Time, Septa Mordane's Quarters, The Great Keep, Winterfell, The North...>

"Fine work, as always. Well done." The somewhat biased septa of Winterfell's sept congratulated her favorite pupil, one Sansa Stark, the red-haired daughter of Eddard and Catelyn Stark. 

Sansa smiled as she glanced to her right, where her best friend Jeyne Poole sat.

Sansa Stark always loved being praised for her lady-ish works ever since she had disassociated herself with her older half brother Edwyn, the praised being the only thing that was worth dropping her 'used-to-be' favorite brother.

"Thank you." Sansa said somewhat bashfully before the septa continued the her examination of her needlework. 

"I love the detail that you managed to get into these..." The septa's voice trailed off as to Sansa's left, one Arya Stark, her younger sister, who shared more in common with her two bastard brothers, watched as Septa Mordane once again praised Sansa. 

Whenever Sansa said or showed something, Septa Mordane would be proud. Whenever Arya said or showed something, Septa Mordane scolded and reprimanded her that this was not the behavior expected of a 'lady'. It made Arya Stark loath having to be a lady.

Whilst all the other girls continued to do their needlework in silence like good little ladies, young Arya could hear the echoes of the voices of her brothers, Jon and Robb, both probably laughing as Bran missed his target completely once again.

Oh how she wished that she was out there with a bow in hand than in here with her sister's friends.

<Three minutes later, Courtyard, Winterfell, The North...>

Bran once again took aim with his arrow before letting it fly... only to groan as it completely missed its target and flew into the shrubbery. At this, Jon and Robb, even little Rickon (a young lad of six), laughed at their brother's completely embarrassing miss.

The laughing stopped however when Lord Eddard Stark spoke, "And which one of you was a marksman at ten?" His words immediately caused them to go quiet... until another voice spoke up, "That would be me, father." 

A seventeen/nearly eighteen-year-old Edwyn said with a grin as he walked into the courtyard, his brown hair parted in locks that framed his face, strands of it going across his forehead and brow, with the vast majority of it tied to the back in a ponytail.

"Except for you, son." Ned said as he looked in deadpan at his (by all genetic rights) eldest son. 

"No worries father. It's a brother's duty to help out his brother instead of putting even more pressure on the lad by laughing at him." The Elder Bastard of Winterfell said with an pointed look in the direction of the rest of his brothers, both Robb and Jon looking sheepish at being called out.