┏━ tribulation.
( SCENE 9 ) ━┛

TIME went by like a fleeting moment in the wind. It went far quicker than Ismene ever intended, and before she knew it, the early rays of dawn peaked their way through her chamber window and pulled her away from her restless sleep. Her eyes were heavy as she lay alone in her bed's warmth, most likely one of the last times she ever would. Her dreams had been active, filling her mind and causing her to toss and turn throughout the night. The day had come, having approached faster than she ever anticipated.

As she forced herself to rise out of the warmth of the furs and get to her feet, a light shiver ran down her back as the cool air caressed the exposed warm skin. At the end of the bed, Fenrir lay sprawled and crossed the furs, the light rise and fall of his chest indicating that she hadn't even bothered his slumber. She gazed down at the dire wolf, which was now easily the size of a large dog. She would fight tooth and nail to ensure he left with her once everything was said and done. She would take him with her to Lakewell.

Gliding toward the fireplace, she rested a hand on the wax-covered mantle as she embraced the heat that radiated out of the fireplace. Fortunately, servants had tended to her fire throughout the night so she wouldn't wake to a frigid room. She sighed, looking into the flames and wishing that she were not a woman but a man so that she wouldn't be displaced from her home and forced to move away. Winterfell was her home and always would be.

The slightest rasp on her door had her looking to see Aubrey slipping into the room. She looked as if she had been up a while, as she was already dressed in her daytime attire. An excited grin flashed at Ismene as her friend wandered inside after closing the door behind her.

"The day is finally here!" Aubrey says excitedly, which Ismene finds somewhat odd. She knew that the Mandals, at least the current ones, didn't value arranged marriages. She knew this because her father had tried everything he could to arrange a marriage between Darik and Aubrey. She wondered if her friend was trying to stay optimistic for her. "Are you ready for it?"

Ismene sighed heavily as she crossed her arms. She wanted nothing more than to stand by the fire and warm her body before returning to her furs to snuggle with Fenrir, but that wasn't the case anymore. She didn't have a choice, and she knew the day would come eventually when she'd have to move on.

"As I'll ever be," she admits with a slight frown. Aubrey seems to understand. She places a kind hand on Ismene's shoulder as if to say 'everything's going to be fine'.

"Lukas is a good man," Aubrey seems to vouch for her cousin with a promise as she gazes at Ismene with reassuring blue eyes, which seem to bore into Ismene. Aubrey has the kindest of faces, one that could reassure anyone. "He would never do you wrong. Trust me, this marriage, though arranged, will be a blessing to you one way or another."

Ismene nods as a heavy sigh escapes past her lips. She rubs the sleep away from her eyes in an attempt to wake herself up from her morning grogginess. "Even though I knew the day would eventually come, I never thought it would. It's not that I don't trust Lukas to be a good husband... I'm just afraid I won't be sufficient enough. I'm not like the girls they sing songs about, Aubrey."

Aubrey looked as if Ismene had offended her great ancestors, and her furrowed brow and unimpressed look were included. She cocked a brow at the brunette, pursed her lips, and rested on one hip while crossing her arms.

"Use your next words carefully," she jokes, her scowl fading into a smile. It causes Ismene to giggle, and they both break out into a bout of laughter. Once calmed down, Aubrey says, "Don't be worried, Ismene. You're anything and everything my idiot of a cousin could ever want. This will work out, I promise."

Nodding lightly, Ismene decides to trust her friend. She feels as if she is walking out on water with only the hope of promises keeping her afloat. Aubrey walks past her toward the chair that holds the wedding dress Ismene will wear that day. The blonde lifts the heavy grey gown, gazing at the beautiful embroidery on the bottom of the skirt.

"This work is beautiful," Aubrey comments as she wanders to Ismene. She places the dress against Ismene's small frame, deciding how it will look on the Stark girl.

"Sansa did it," Ismene replies, crediting her sisters for making the gown so beautiful.

Aubrey returns the dress to the bed before shuffling through Ismene's chest full of garments. When she leans back up with a handful of undergarments, Ismene's cheeks flush with heat.

"Let's get you scrubbed clean then?" Aubrey has more orders than suggested. Ismene rolls her eyes playfully as Aubrey grabs her hand and leads her out of her warm chambers to venture into the cool halls to find the bathing room.

Not long after they found the bathing facilities, Ismene was undressed and slipping into the steaming water of the giant natural tub. It always bubbled, heated, and supplied with water from the hot springs below the castle. The warmth of her home would be one thing that Ismene would miss. The heat felt magnificent as she sank to her chin, embracing it with a pleased sigh.

Nearby, Aubrey sat seated on a bench behind a privacy blind. She was shuffling through a box containing the different soaps they had. Pulling out one that smelled of lavender, Ismene's favorite, she tossed it over the blind, and Ismene easily caught it. She sank below the bubbles, only to return with blackened hair as she rubbed away the water from her eyes.

Busying herself with scrubbing, she soaked in the memory of all she could. The warm stone walls, her siblings, even Darik, despite his current anger. It all seemed as if her life would never be as good as it was in that moment when she was still a wolf within her den. She would miss Winterfell itself. It was her home, and she would never feel at home anywhere else. However, Lakewell would be her home soon enough, and she would be a wolf living among foxes.

Once Ismene was clean, dressed in her gown and a cloak with heavy white furs, she sat before Aubrey, who spent a painstaking amount of time brushing through her brunette locks until they were dry and flowing beautifully over her chest. Just as Aubrey finished the last touches, the door to her chambers opened to reveal both her father and mother.

"Hello, my sweet," Eddard grins widely. He can only look down at his oldest daughter as if she were a goddess. He then looks to Aubrey with an appreciative smile. "Thank you, Aubrey, for being such a kind friend and getting Ismene ready for her ceremony."

Aubrey bows her head. "It's the least I could do, m'Lord," she replies with a smile. "She is to be my kin of soon."

Catelyn wanders over to embrace Aubrey in a hug. When they pull apart, Aubrey bows her head to Ned before leaving the room.

Once the Mandal girl is gone, Ismene's parents look to her. Her father looks as if he is the proudest man in the world, having won a victory battle. Her stepmother looks as if she is going to burst into tears, and at one point, Ismene feels the same way.

"There is something we wanted to give you," Catelyn murmurs as she approaches. From the folds of her gown, she brings out a small box. Ismene doesn't expect gifts for simply participating in a wedding, but she goes along with it.

Ismene takes the necklace and opens it. To her utter amazement, she finds a beautiful silver necklace with the head of a wolf. All of it is shining silver except the eyes, which are inlaid with tiny, beautiful sapphires. Ismene can't help but think it is absolutely beautiful.

"I had it made for you the last time I was in King's Landing," Ned tells her. "I knew you'd be the first girl to marry, so I wanted to be prepared." Catelyn takes the necklace from the box to put it around Ismene's neck. She pulls away her cascading locks of hair as her stepmother clasps the jewelry around her neck. Once it's secured, she allows her hair to fall once more.

"Father, I love it," she smiles warmly. It was true. She had been craving something to take with her when she left, something to remind her of home. She wasn't sure if Fenrir could stay in her new home with her, so she wanted to be prepared.

Both of her parents smile warmly. "They're all waiting for you, dear," her step-mother informs her kindly. "It's time we make our way to the garden."

Ismene's heartbeat picks up. She nods her head in compliance as she rises to her feet. Her mother embraced her before leaving the chambers first. Now, it was up to the girl and her father to make their way there.

"Are you ready for this, dear?" He asks as they leave her chambers and walk down the hall. The castle is eerily quiet, most likely because all are outside and within the Godswood by now.

Ismene nods her head as confidentially as she can. "I am."

❆

LUKAS shuffled from one foot to another. The red leaves above danced around with the slight breeze that careened through the Godswood. All around him, Starks, Mandals, Estemores, and those alike awaited the arrival of his intended. She would be there any moment, as her mother, Catelyn, had appeared just minutes ago.

As his grey eyes scanned those who stood around, he met the gaze of none other than Darik. The Stark heir looked dangerously calm, but Lukas could see his anger held at bay. Lukas still wrestled with the thought of engaging Ismene's twin in a well-deserved fistfight to settle any difference they had. He knew, though, that their opposition was caused by the marriage they were about to partake in, which was none of Lukas' fault.

His eyes narrowed as he glared at Darik, unable to tear his gaze away. Darik's didn't waver either, and Lukas wanted nothing more than to land his fist on the heir's jaw. How could he blame Lukas for things? What had he done besides obey his father after so much protest?

Amidst the angry thoughts that clouded his mind, Lukas' gaze was torn away by an approaching figure ahead. That moment that had been looming around him since he was nine finally appeared. And by God, he didn't expect all of his precious thoughts to be entirely altered.

She seemed to effortlessly glide over the snow like a doe through a white forest. Her grey gown clung to her body under the white furs and cloak that hung on her shoulders. Her loose brunette curls were shining and let loose to flow in the cool breeze, previously something he'd never seen before. 

Lukas felt a strange sensation in his gut as she made her way toward him, arm-in-arm with her father. Alarmingly, it spread to his heart, which picked up at an alarming rate the closer she approached.

She was utterly beautiful. Guilt washed over him as well, forever thinking he was too good for this woman he was about to marry. He thinks back to the conversation with his father in his solar, where he'd been informed of the approaching union. He regrets every word now.

Feeling all eyes on her, Ismene couldn't pull her gaze away from Lukas. Even though she wanted to drink in everything she could before she was forced to leave, she couldn't tear her eyes away from her very soon-to-be husband.
Dressed in a grey and forest green northern style doublet, his shoulders were covered in dark brown furs and a grey cloak. She noted that something must have been down to his hair, as it didn't look as long or shaggy as before.

Once she was deposited in her spot and stood at Lukas' side, they didn't meet gazes. Instead, they looked to Lord Henrik, who would officiate the ceremony by tradition. It was known that the ceremony would be very short, as it had always been. All was eerily quiet before Lord Estemore spoke up.

"We gather here today," the Lord speaks up, his deep voice echoing throughout Godswood. He was pleased to finally see a Stark married into the Estemore after so long. "To acknowledge the union that will take place between this man and his woman."

Ismene's heart seemed to beat wildly in her chest. Her legs felt weak, and she thought she stopped breathing for a few moments. Lukas felt the same way.

"Lukas, what is your claim upon this woman?" Lord Henrik continues with the traditional words, his icy eyes looking at his only son.

Lukas steps forward, his glove hands clasped together under his cloak. "I come today to lay claim upon this woman, Ismene Stark, the daughter of Lord Eddard Stark, as my wife."

Ned steps forward as he's supposed to to give away Ismene. Lord Henrik looks at him. "Lord Eddard," He continues. "Will your daughter take my son as her husband?"

"She will," Ned replies.

All eyes turn to Ismene. "What say you, Ismene?" Lord Henrik asks.

She lets out a slightly shaky breath. The last words, the ones that would then begin to bind her to Lukas, are on the top of her tongue. The scariest thing about a northern marriage was the lack of strenuous ceremonies or strange practices, like the Faith of Seven. Once the words were said, there was no going back. "I take this man," she says smoothly. "I am his, and he is mine."

"I am hers, and she is mine," Lukas says with her in unison.

"Men and women," Lord Henrik speaks up loudly. "Under the sight of the Old, I present to you, Lukas and Ismene Estemore."

Ismene doesn't hear the cheering, laughing, or clapping. The only thing she hears is Lord Henrik's last word, the word that now defines her.

Estemore.