The clashing of metal against metal filled the courtyard of Winterfell as the two eldest Stark children trained, along with their bastard sibling and their father's ward. They were being watched from above by their Lord father, Eddard Stark.
Lyarra was the eldest of the four, she was the firstborn daughter and first child of Lord Eddard and Lady Catelyn, Lord Eddard's wife. She was a tall, dark haired girl of seven and ten.
Her younger trueborn brother, Robb was a red-haired boy with bright blue eyes, only being six and ten, he still looked boyish, even having grown a slight beard.
Their bastard half-brother, Jon Snow, was only a few months older than Robb with black hair and dark brown eyes. He too had a beard, only of black instead of red.
Theon Greyjoy was Lord Stark's ward, he too was six and ten, he had brown hair and a slight moustache.
"Hold your sword higher Robb," the master at arms, Ser Rodrick, called to the Stark boy.
Lyarra smirked at her brother as he corrected it and moved to attack her. She countered the attack easily and moved to in turn swing at him. He didn't counter in time, allowing Lyarra's training sword to whack against his leg with quite some force.
"Ouch! Lyarra!" Robb yelped angrily.
His sister grinned at him sheepishly, "looks like you're not ready yet."
Robb glared at her before rolling his eyes.
"I think that's enough for today children, the sun is setting," Catelyn Stark called.
They all packed up their equipment, the practice sword went back into the rack and Robb, Jon and Lyarra all picked up their own swords and put them back on their belts. Together they walked through the hallways of Winterfell to their rooms to get themselves ready and presentable for dinner.
Lyarra leant her sword against her bed and pulled off her tunic and breaches.
"A lady must look like a lady." She snorted as she pulled on a dress, "well mother, they are not very comfortable."
She sat in front of her dressing table a tugged a hairbrush through her hair, which during her training had become knotted. She brushed until her dark hair was smooth and untangled, before braiding the sides and joining them at the back of her head in a typical northern style. She stood, brushed down her dress and looked herself over in the mirror before leaving her room and making her way to the great hall.
When she arrived, her family was already sitting at the head of the table. She walked up and took her place beside her mother and younger sister, Sansa.
Sansa was a beautiful young lady with bright blue eyes and fiery red hair that she more than often wore in the northern styles her mother did for her. She was almost a perfect lady at the young age of three and ten. Lyarra found that Sansa had a very straight picture of the world, a very naïve outlook on it indeed.
"Lyarra, you are late," Catelyn reprimanded her daughter as she sat.
"My apologies mother, I had a battle with this dress," Lyarra rolled her eyes.
Catelyn made a sound of disapproval but no further comment. Lyarra and Catelyn had a very strained relationship. Catelyn didn't approve of Lyarra's willingness and participation in sword play, while Lyarra hated how her mother wished for her to be a perfect lady. Catelyn also didn't approve of the close relationship that Lyarra had with Jon, as Catelyn mistreated Jon as he wasn't her son and proof of her husband's infidelity.
"Lyarra, can you teach me how to use a sword?" Arya, her youngest sister, called from down the table.
The girl was sitting next to Sansa. Arya was barely one and ten years old and had the adventurous spirit of her oldest sister. Many times, she had begged Lyarra or Jon to teach her how to use a sword. She was much like Lyarra, however, whenever the older girl tried to encourage Arya, she was told off by her mother and often faced consequences. If Lyarra had it her way, Arya would be learning how to use a sword and a bow right at that moment.
Like she expected with Lyarra, Catelyn expected her youngest daughter to be a perfect lady. Something it was obvious that Arya would never be. She was much too much of a wild child to be a proper lady.
"No Arya, she will not," Catelyn scolded before putting a spoonful of stew into her mouth.
Arya pouted and went to staring at her food.
Lyarra picked up her own spoon and began eating. She poured herself a cup of wine to have with her dinner also, something her mother disapproved of but said nothing about.
"Bran will begin learning to shoot tomorrow." Ned spoke up.
Catelyn's head whipped around, "Ned, he's still only young."
"He is old enough to learn to use a bow Cat."
Catelyn opened her mouth to speak again but was cut off by her husband.
"I'll hear no more. Robb and Jon learned at his age. The decision is final."
Lyarra gave a small smirk as her mother closed her mouth and went back to eating her soup in silence. If Catelyn Stark had it her way, none of her children would be allowed to fight or learn to fight.
"Robb, Jon and I will prepare him father."
Catelyn dropped her spoon into her stew and Lyarra grinned widely.

Another arrow fell to the ground after missing the target above it. Lyarra handed her little brother another arrow. He took his time lining up his shot before letting the arrow fly into the barrel nearby. Jon sighed and walked forward. He leant down so that he could see where Bran was aiming and held his shoulder.
"Go on, father's watching," he glanced up where Ned and Catelyn stood, "and your mother."
Bran nocked another arrow to the bow and took a breath before letting it fly. It flew above the target and over the stone wall behind it. Lyarra sighed and walked over to Bran while Robb and Jon began laughing. Lyarra watched Bran's face became one of disappointment.
"And which one of you was a marksman at ten?" Lord Stark asked.
He looked at his youngest son and nodded encouragingly.
"Keep practicing Bran."
Lyarra smiled up at her father knowingly. She had been almost a perfect marksman at eleven. She turned to her brother and put a hand on his shoulder.
"Adjust your stance. Feet apart."
"Don't think too much Bran."
"Relax your bow arm."
Bran held the bow and nocked arrow before shooting. An arrow hit the target. But it wasn't fired by Bran. Everyone turned around to see Arya standing behind them with a bow in hand. She gave a curtsey just before Bran ran at her, causing everyone to laugh. Lyarra picked up Bran's discarded bow while Jon began picking up the arrows around them. Rickon and Robb went over to the targets to collect the fallen arrows from there.
"She's a good shot," Lyarra commented.
Rickon ran over with a handful of arrows and handed them to Jon.
"Aye, she is." Jon agreed.
The bastard boy put the arrows back into the holder when he felt a pair of eyes burning into him. He looked up to catch the gaze of Catelyn. It was a cold and hateful glare, nothing he wasn't used to. Lyarra noticed the exchange and cleared her throat. Her mother broke her gaze on Jon and turned it to her eldest daughter, who met her with the same cold glare. Catelyn stared at her daughter for a short while before turning away. Lyarra's face softened as she approached her half-brother.
"Just ignore her. You know she isn't going to change."
Jon shrugged and said nothing. Although he acted like Catelyn's cold demeanour didn't affect him, she knew that deep down it hurt him. Jon was raised by only his father; he never had a mother and she was the closest he would get. But she was nothing but cold and cruel to him. Lyarra placed a hand on Jon's arm for a moment before dropping it and walking away.
She knew there wasn't much that could be said to make him feel any better.