┏━ tribulation.
( SCENE 11 ) ━┛

THE early morning rays seem to pierce their way into the dark chambers as if to gently tell the slumbering couple it was time to wake. The light was much softer and less intruding than it had been the previous morning when Ismene had wearily risen from her bed, dreading the marriage she was forced to take part in. The same dread she'd felt wasn't present anymore and was replaced by peace.

The glowing embers crossed the room, barely sizzling in the fireplace when she breathed cool air. Her eyes flutter open ever so slightly as she is drawn away from her dreams. She was obviously used to waking up in her home to the sound of a crackling fire and the dim light that would splash onto the floor; she wasn't, though, used to the light snoring of her husband at her side.

As Ismene looked up, Lukas's features were soft and relaxed, almost childlike. His lips were opened ever so slightly, and he drew in one slow breath after another. She couldn't help but smirk a little at the sight of him, thinking that he looked so peaceful. She partly wanted him to open his grey eyes, to look at her with that gaze she seemed to like so much. 

It was all strange; there was no lying. She was somewhat alarmed to wake up next to him, but it didn't feel wrong. In fact, it felt very natural. Somewhere in the back of her mind, her conscience was whispering, "It's alright."

She moved lightly and tried her best not to wake him. Pulling the furs away and rising to her feet quietly, she found Fenrir had managed to get into the room sometime at night. The dire wolf looked up at her with attentive golden eyes and perked ears as he sat still. She smirked at her companion as she rubbed him between the ears and wandered past him toward the fireplace.

She grabbed a spoke and a piece of chopped wood that sat nearby. Placing the wood on top of the smoldering embers, she poked around so that it may catch the new fuel and warm her chilled skin. Soon, the flames finally caught to the wood, and she set the spoke down and watched the flames slowly grow. The crackling noises made her feel at peace for what little time she could. She knew as soon as they stepped out of the door, reality would be waiting for them.

"You woke up rather early."

Lukas' raspy morning voice has her reeling around in surprise. Leaning against the bed's headboard with his sleepy gray gaze focused on her, she thought she'd never seen a more handsome man at that moment. His chocolate hair was tousled, and his shirt was ever so slightly open at his chest, and she felt her heart flutter. Even though he held a groggy expression, his eyes always seemed to pierce her.

Shaking herself back to reality, she nods before making her way over. She sits next to him on the edge of the bed, ensuring she doesn't get too close. "Anticipation tends to do that to one who is anxious about the day to come," she replies. Lukas raises a brow in question. "I mean..." she looks away, embarrassed to mention it. "They will ask if it was done. You know they will. It is the entire purpose of this all."

Lukas suddenly understands what she means. She pushed himself up and clears his throat. "We'll simply explain that we decided it was not time," he tells her. "It is our marriage, anyway. They have no say about what goes on between us."

Ismene greatly appreciated his respect for her. Northern men weren't normally known for being gentle. Lukas was a rare breed, and she didn't think she would have been able to marry anyone else.

"I appreciate your proposal," she tells him. "But I think it would be safer to tell them it did happen. Therefore, we won't hear another word of it."

Lukas nodded his head in understanding. Gently putting his hand on the back of her head, he pulled her close and placed a soft kiss on her hair. When they pulled apart, he gave her a kind and reassuring smirk. "Whatever you wish, my lovely wolf," he agrees. At the mention of his newly coined term of endearment, she blushes.

"I almost envy your cousin Aubrey," Ismene admits, suddenly thinking about her friend. She wishes she'd had the option to choose whom she wanted to marry and have a life with, as the Mandal heir did. A part of her couldn't forgive her parents. Not yet. "I wish we hadn't been forced into this all."

Lukas feels a twinge of guilt within him. He recalls how he'd spoken of his wife when they were arriving at Winterfell when he'd been so conceited as to think he deserved special treatment for having to marry. A part of him felt wounded by her words, but his previous perspective wounded the other half. He'd been so self-centered, and he knew it. Ismene seems to notice his discomfort, and she looks away.

"I think everyone deserves to find love on their own time, with whomever they wish," Lukas tells her reassuringly. It has her mahogany eyes looking at him wearily. "We were both forced into this, which is unfortunate. But we have the power to make it something worthwhile, and I plan on making it just that."

Ismene nods in understanding, thanking the gods once again for blessing her with such a tender husband. She smiles warmly.

"I hope to see this blossom into something beautiful," she admits, her heart fluttering slightly. They'd not even been married a day, and she was already feeling closer to him. He was so kind and respectful, and she couldn't think of something better than what would have been forced on her. The only unfortunate aspect of it was that it was, in fact, forced. She didn't care anymore. She was already believing it was going to be a happy marriage.

Lukas tries to force away the guilt that seems to rise in his chest whenever he sees her smile. I don't deserve her. The thought seems to demand to be acknowledged. When he'd first arrived, he'd seen it all as an inconvenience. Now, he regretted even the thought of it.

"Perhaps it is time we break our fast?" He asks her. She nods in agreement, knowing she won't face the whispering alone.

❆

AS Lukas and Ismene wandered side by side toward the hall at which they would all break their fasts, her heart pounded in her chest. 

She dreads the looks she may receive and the whispers that will be uttered when her back is turned. They won't necessarily be distasteful, but she hated being the center of attention, especially when it involved personal matters. Even more, she dreads the thought of Darik making a scene. She knew how much her brother disliked her husband, and it was a problem she wished she didn't have to face, but unfortunately, she did. She tried her best to understand how he felt but had difficulty looking past its selfish aspect.

As they finally entered the hall, the wafting smells of cooked food had both of their stomach rumbling. The Stark family sat with the Estemore's and the Mandal's just ahead. The first person Ismene made eye contact with was Aubrey, who beamed at her presence, blue eyes wide with inquiry. 

At her reactions, many others turned their attention as they approached to take a seat. Ismene accidentally meets the livid gaze of Darik, who is seated at the end of the table. She looks away quickly, instead focusing on those seated at the table: Robb, Sansa, Enith, Evolet, and even Jon are present. It warms Ismene's heart to see her half-brother taking part in her limited time left at home.

As they wander up, Ismene doesn't make her way to sit beside Aubrey. Instead, she purposefully sits next to her husband, close to him. She feels their bodies only inches apart, and she hopes it might make it seem apparent that they have truly come together. Maybe then, questions will be asked.

"You both managed to rise before noon," Aubrey jabs at the two with a smile as she eats. Ismene's cheeks are already flush with heat, but thankfully, Lukas speaks up in their defense.

"One should always start their day by breaking their fast," he replies more enthusiastically than Ismene might have expected. The silence is assumed again as everyone continues to eat.

When Evolet sits beside Sansa, the horror of leaving Winterfell finally reaches her horizon. She was leaving, and she wasn't sure when or if she would get to see Robb again. She couldn't bear the thought of leaving and almost wished her parents had bargained for an arranged marriage with him as they had with Lukas. 

She can barely force herself to take meager bites of an egg as her stomach flips every so often. Robb had promised. He promised she would be his, and they would marry, and she would be a Stark. Now, she couldn't see even the slightest possibility of it.

"Have you thought of names yet?" Sansa suddenly asks, and almost the entire table reels at the mention of children so soon. Ismene knows her little sister has no filter, and it drives her crazy. Her small bit of hope that she might be spared of discomfort suddenly disappears.

"I don't think the thought has daunted them," Robb snaps with a glare, the discomfort evident in his tone. The awkward atmosphere seems to settle over them all, and Ismene feels her ears burning.

"Watch your tongue," Ismene snaps at Sansa.

Darik must have heard the question. Ismene suddenly saw him stand in her peripheral vision and promptly leave the hall. She knew the time would come, and she knew she must speak with him. She rose to her feet, all eyes on her. Without another word, she left everyone where they were to chase after her twin.

She finds him standing in the quiet courtyard. Not another soul is present as she steps out into the blinding sunlight. It reflects off the piles of snow that dot the area, but she welcomes the warmth the sun offers. She quietly makes her way over to him, where he leans against one of the walls. Slipping in at his side, she rests her back against the sun-warmed stone. Silence holds them for a long time before Ismene decides she will be the one to speak first.

"Please don't do this to me," she nearly begs. Her voice begins to steady, which is good. She doesn't expect that she'll cry. "Please don't make me leave Winterfell knowing we have qualms."

In her side vision, she can see one of his hands clenching and unclenching on his arm. He is livid; he has been for so long that it has become normal. She wants nothing more than to see her brother back to his normal self, but she isn't sure she will before she leaves.

"He took you like a hound takes a bitch," Darik snarls under his breath. His breath billows in clouds from his lips, and his words stunned her. She isn't quite sure she'll be able to talk him down.

"He did nothing of the sort," she immediately defends Lukas with a slightly angered tone. She felt like she was caught in the middle of a war with no way out. "He did not take me. He told me he would have me until I love him, which I do not know."

Darik is quiet. He doesn't say anything, instead continuing to clench his arm in anger. She frowns as a cool breeze blows her flowing hair away from her face.

"I love you, Darik," she murmurs, hoping it will draw him out of his anger. "I want you to be the same brother I have always had. The one that is always there for me and always has been. We came into this world together, and I can't imagine one where we can't stay."

At first, her words seem to get to him as his expression softens. She desperately hopes she won't have to leave her home, knowing her brother holds a grudge against her, especially not knowing when she might see him again.

Darik doesn't seem to believe her, as his expression hardens again, and his grey eyes finally meet her brown. He looks dangerously angry, and she loses what little hope she has. "I will never accept him as a brother," he mutters lowly. Ismene can feel the emotion seeping into her eyes, and her breath is caught in her lungs. "And as long as you defend him, we have nothing else to discuss."