Chapter 1

"Arya, how many times do you need me to say it? Karate is not for girls! It is not proper for a young girl like yourself to risk being beaten bloody!" screamed her mother, red seemingly creeping from her copper hair into her cheeks, making her blue eyes glow with anger.

"And what if I like being hit and hitting others? What if I like being able to defend myself?" retorted Arya.

"If you didn't take argue as much with anything and everything, there would be no reason for you to have to defend yourself!"

"But-"

"No buts Arya! You will not go to Karate class, end of discussion! Now go to your room and reflect on your actions! And wash yourself, you have mud on your face!"

The young girl went upstairs, making as much noise as possible and slamming her bedroom door with all the force she could muster. She the threw herself on the top of her unmade bed and pounded in her pillow to try and evacuate the rage inside her. It was her half-brother Jon who had taught her that trick, having had a few situations of the sort with the woman of the house when he was her age. Jon had also taught her how to kick and give a punch without hurting herself, which had given her just enough of a taste for karate to know that it was what she wanted to do. She didn't want to do ballet! All of those hours in front of a mirror, stretching one way or another to try and make her body flexible enough to hold uncomfortable poses for a long period of time, it was torture! She would much rather fight with her brothers and learn her katas!

But alas, her mother was unmovable and her father, working most of the time, was agreeing to whatever Catelyn said. Ned Stark was not a coward, he could stand up before anyone if he wanted, but Catelyn was very strong headed and they had decided when their first child was born and that Ned had just started his new job that Catelyn would raise the children her way, and this was still the way they worked together.

And it worked, for the most part. The Stark family was far from being dysfunctional. All of the children had good grades, or at least managed not to fail any classes. They all had dinner together every night (except for Ned most of the time, but that wasn't his fault) and nobody had killed anyone yet. But there were definitely problems, starting with the extracurricular activities. The girls were told to do ballet and play the flute and the boys were asked to do karate and learn the guitar. It had worked for the first four children, but Arya would have none of it.

"If only I had been born a boy, I would've been able to do karate and not ballet" grumbled the young girl into her pillow after she had spent the excess of energy that she always had after speaking with her mother.

After a few minutes of moping, Arya got up and stood before her mirror. Even if Arya was eight-and-three-quarters years old, she looked as if the was seven, scrawny as she was. It was also one of the reasons that she wanted to learn karate, she needed to be able to defend herself and her younger brother Bran who always got picked on. The young girl regularly got into fights to defend her siblings, forgetting her own small size and lack of technique. After one last long look in the mirror, Arya scrubbed her cheek clean and got ready for dinner that would be served in a few minutes.

Dinner was surprisingly uneventful. Catelyn seemed to think that Arya would listen to reason and didn't speak of karate again, and Arya was lost in her own thoughts, thinking about ways to sneak into her brother's class without getting caught. But right after dinner, the man of the house got home from work and everything exploded.

Arya had always felt a little closer to her father and in seemed mutual. She went to hug him at the door and told him about her conversation with Catelyn.

"… and mom said that I couldn't go! But I need to learn to defend myself! Please! Tell her to let me go daddy!" cried Arya, hoping with all her heart that her father would see to reason.

But it was with a sad smile that her father answered "Arya, I agree with your mother. Karate is for boys. You shouldn't need to defend yourself and if you are in trouble, just ask Bran to help you."

"But it is Bran that I help daddy!" she said, her eyes starting to water with the realisation that Ned wasn't going to help her. "I help him when the bad guys come after him!"

"Now, now, Arya, no need to tell tales, I know you want to-"

"Tell tales?" She screamed, outraged. "You don't believe me? Daddy, I don't lie, I'm not lying, I swear!"

"Sweetie…" he whispered discouraged, at a loss of what to say to comfort his daughter. "I know you are not lying, but maybe you are exaggerating? Just a little?"

"No, I am not, but how would you know?" She was starting to cry, her anger transforming into a crushing blend of sorrow and disappointment. "You are never here, daddy." Her words were a whisper, so soft she wasn't sure if anyone else had heard it.

She went up the stairs, this time slowly, silently, closing her bedroom door behind her before the tears in her eyes had started rolling down her cheeks. She laid down on her bed, crying silently until she fell asleep.

Arya woke up disoriented. It was black in her room, so it must have been night time, but she was still dressed and on the top of the covers. After a few seconds, she remembered what had happened and felt sad again. But her tears had all come out before and she found that she had none left for the moment. Her eyes adjusting to the darkness, the young girl could now see the outline of the many girly objects that decorated her room. Most of her things were hand-me-downs from her older sister, be it clothes or her little alarm clock. And it was all purple or pink. Suddenly, all this pink and purple was all too much. She didn't want to stay in this family. People who love each other don't act like her mother does, do they? If her mother and father really loved her, they would let her take that class.

It was at this exact moment that Arya realised that she was leaving. She turned on her light, took her backpack and filled it with all of her favourite clothes (the blue and black ones). When she was ready, the young girl slowly opened her bedroom door and listened to be sure that everybody was sleeping. After a few seconds, she proceeded down the stairs. "Quiet as a mouse" someone had once told her. "Quick as a shadow". Finally, she reached the front door and opened it, letting the fresh night air brush her face for a few seconds before she went outside. She was free.