How To Kill a Flower

Chapter 1

Authors note: this is my very first story that I've ever written. So please go easy on me. Constructive criticism only. Also, I don't own anything but the character for Cirilla and any other characters that you don't recognize.

Im sitting halfway out the window; long wavy dark brown hair that i got from my fathers side, softly blowing in the wind, with a book in my lap. Though I'm not getting very far in the book I'm reading. I look out with my bright blue Tully eyes trailing over the training yard where my oldest brother Robb, bastard brother Jon Snow and my fathers ward, Theon from house Greyjoy, are training Bran how to shoot an arrow from a bow; wishing I could be down there with them. But as my mother and septa like to remind me.

"Ladies do not use a bow and arrow, but a needle and thread." I roll my eyes as they turn away to compliment Sansa on her needlework.

"Go on, Fathers watching," Jon says to Bran.

Looking up at the balcony where my father Ned and mother Catelyn Stark is watching. Though Catelyn is glaring down at Jon. Which is nothing new, she could never get over the honorable Ned bringing home his bastard while he was away at war, while she was in Winterfell caring for his first true born heir. I shake my head. It's not fair, Jon didn't choose to be a bastard.

"And your mother," Jon adds.

Meanwhile inside Arya glares down at her mangled piece of clothes she attempts to embroider. It's suppose to look like a wolf, but the more she looks at it the more it looks like a three legged goat. Frustrated she glances over at Septa Mordane praising Sansa for her beautiful needle work. Again.

Out of all of the Stark girls, Sansa was always the perfect lady. While Cirilla and Arya are more interested in training like their brothers.

Bran releases his arrow, missing again. He's lost count how many times they've had to run after the stray arrows that never seemed to even graze the target.

Theon and Robb burst out laughing, Jon stifles his laugh but he can't control when his lips lift into an amused grin.

"And which one of you was a marksman at 10?" Robb and Theon immediately stop their laughter. "Keep practicing Bran. Go on," Father says down to Bran.

I was. Right when I was old enough to hold a bow, I was able to shoot better than even Robb. Theon was a couple years other than Robb and I, giving him more time to have mastered the bow and arrow. So it took me some time before I even surpassed him. Which he still denies to this day that I ever beat him at archery.

I remember begging my father to let me learn how to shoot a bow. Eventually he gave up when he saw I was hitting the middle of the target every time when I would sneak out to practice with Robb and Jon. Mother was spitting mad when she found out. Father was able to bargain with her that if I stayed in my studies to be a lady, then I could still practice with my brothers. Begrudgingly my only choice was to agree. Which is why I wasn't down there right now trying to teach Bran how to shoot a bow.

"Don't think too much, Bran," Jon tells him lowly. Showing the kindest he always treated his half-siblings with, even though he wasn't treated as fairly as the true born Starks. Don't get me wrong, we all treated him like he's our full brother and father always treated him like his true born son. Mother on the other hand ignored and excluded him as much as she could. Hating his mere presence in Winterfell.

"Relax your bow arm." Robb advices. Standing off to the side with Theon.

Seeing movement hidden behind Bran and Jon. Ciri catches Arya's eyes and she pulls back the string of a bow she found laying outside the fences of the training yard. I smirk, knowing she's just like me when it comes to wanting to train with out brothers. With a wink in her direction, she looks back at the target Bran was concentrating on.