The Wild Horse - Ayra Stark
Ayra pricked her finger with her sewing needle. Her young hands had many battle scars from her needlework. She didn't see the point in any of it. The frilly designs looked pleasant enough, but not pleasant enough for her to toil over it. She watched Sansa hard at work. It always seemed like a duty for Sansa to try to make all things beautiful in Winterfell.
Her attention was drawn to the sound of wooden swords being smacked about. It would be Bran's first day to practice swordsmanship. "I need to pee," Ayra said coldly.
Septa Mordane gave her a reprimanding look.
"Please?"
"I'm sorry, I must have misheard you. Did you say you needed to visit the wash closet?"
"Uh yeah that," Ayra said with annoyance and practically threw her things down on her seat.
"Say it properly Ayra," Septa Mordane called out, but Ayra had already turned the corner. She slipped into a room with a good view of the courtyard.
Down below, Bran was being instructed on his stance and how to hold the sword. Bran seemed to have little interest in it. She looked at him haughtily. She would have loved to learn how to fight with a sword instead of sewing flowers and designs for Septa Mordane. Why do boys have all the fun?
Jon caught her eyes. He looked at her with a disapproving look, but with an added brotherly smile. Ayra pouted and stood away from the window. Fortunately, it was only Jon who spotted her. Robb or any of the others would have ratted on her for being away from her lessons.
Ayra sat on the cold steps that lead to the Godswood. Hardly anyone went that way unless they were a Stark. She needed to be alone. She hated being different from all the other girls and being told that she was always wrong. There had to be a way out of this restrictive life.
"I've overheard Septa Mordane complaining to your mother that you haven't been paying attention to your lessons."
Ayra jumped in shock. Her brother always moved so stealthily.
"Needlework, playing the harp, calligraphy, manners… what's the point in all of it?"
"Calligraphy could come in handy."
"I know my letters," Ayra said with annoyance.
"So you can read?"
"I can. I even have a favorite story. Can you read?"
"Not well, I confess."
Ayra knew that Jon would have made a great lord, but her mother would not let him learn anything that would allow him to touch matters of politics. Jon was no threat. Jon wanted to always "stay in his place," which vexed Ayra terribly. Sometimes she wanted to to yell at her brother to grow a backbone.
"Jon, you're lucky."
Jon laughed sardonically. "I'm lucky?"
"You can do what you want and come and go as you please."
"It's not as easy as all that," Jon laughed. They sat in silence for a while, enjoying the stillness together. Jon was first to break the silence. "Perhaps you can ask father for riding lessons. I think you would like riding a horse."
"I never really thought about riding a horse," Ayra said as she tried to imagine it.
"Maybe we could get a little archery in there as well…"
Ayra's eyes widened and she swung herself around Jon's neck. "I could never ask for a better brother!"
"We'll just keep this between ourselves," Jon said sternly.
Ayra nodded excitedly. "I will!"