┏━ tribulation.
( SCENE 7 ) ━┛

A crisp, cool breeze flows effortlessly past Ismene while she makes her way to the quiet gardens of Winterfell. There were no flowers nor colorful flora in the gardens due to the cold climate, save the single Heart tree that towered above all the others and was adorned by crimson leaves. A garden in the North normally was a place where a carved face of the Old Gods resided, etched into the wood thousands of years ago by the Children of the forest. She often found a quiet place to pray to the gods during trouble.

It was only the second day of the Estemore's arrival, leaving only two more before she and Lukas would come together in matrimony. Earlier that morning, the measurements were taken for her wedding gown before the servants, and Sansa began to diligently work on the gown to prepare it for the big day. With every task completed, she felt the inevitable daunting on her like a prominent shadow.

Fenrir was left in her chambers so that she could pray quietly. Yet, without him there, she felt naked without her companion. For her, he had become something like a sword to a man: their weapon, their protection. As she wandered along the dirt path that led to her usual praying spot below the hanging branches, she could hear the slight murmuring of someone speaking.

She finds a brown-haired girl kneeling before the giant red-leafed tree. She sits on her knees, elbows placed on the stone bench, as she diligently prays. It is apparent that she isn't a servant, especially dressed in such fine clothing. Unbeknownst to the girl, Ismene is wandering up quietly.

Ismene selfishly listened to what the girl had to say, even if it might be private. However, the words the girl muttered were low and mumbled, so it didn't do her any good to listen. Suddenly, the girl whirred around, revealing the face of Evolet Estemore.

"M'Lady!" She exclaims, embarrassment apparent on her features after being found in the middle of prayer. She quickly gets to her feet so as not to disrespect Lord Stark's daughter and her future good sister. "I didn't mean to intrude on your spot—"

Ismene waves a hand, offering a kind smile. "This place is not simply mine because I live here," she murmurs reassuringly. She wanted to know the girl who would become her sister and had to start with kindness. "This is a place for any and all to uplift their dreams and troubles." She places a soft hand on Evolet's shoulder. "It is good to finally meet you."

Evolet, feeling slightly less on edge, returns a weak smile. "As it is you, m'Lady," she replies softly. Ismene maneuvers around her to take a seat on the stone bench. Once sitting, she pats the open area for Evolet to join her. Somewhat reluctantly, she does.

"I would like to know about the family I will be living with," Ismene begins. She knew Lukas, at least some, but she needed to know about her future good sister, mother, and father if she could settle in. She already took a liking to Evolet after finding her praying, deciding that they would be very close in the future.

Evolet nods in understanding. "Ask anything, M'Lady."

"What is your father like?" she asked. She had noticed that, upon their arrival, Lord Estemore didn't seem nearly as haughty or stuck up as his lady wife, which was surprising to her. He seemed like a dutiful man who only listened to her father. Lady Estemore was a different story altogether.

Evolet purses her lips before speaking. "My father does what he must to ensure the survival of our family," she begins. "He acts as he should to be a lord and never does anything less. He isn't a happy man; everyone knows that. Though he loves my brother, it seems, more than me. But I understand Lukas will inherit Lakewell and lordship. He'll only marry me off to a lord."

Ismene frowns, realizing that Evolet must have been emotionally neglected to an extent. She had a reserved father and an uncaring mother. If Ismene knew anything about Lady Helen, she wasn't a very kind woman. "What about your mother?"

Then, Evolet frowns. She hated having to tell people about what a bitter woman her mother was, but there was no way of sugarcoating it: Helen was an angry woman, and it wasn't something easily hidden.

"She's... not very kind," Evolet begins, her tone said. "She is arrogant. That is the word that best describes her. She doesn't care about either of us. Only herself."

Ismene notes that Lady Helen would not be as welcoming as she had hoped. The thought of life with her new husband in Lakewell Keep makes her grimace as she prays that he is nothing like his mother. "What about your father? Does she not love him?" Ismene immediately regrets asking, but Evolet doesn't seem bothered. The girl shakes her head.

"No, she does not love my father. She loves yours."

❆

IT is in the late hours of the night when Evolet finds herself wandering the dark halls of the castle with a single candlestick in hand. Without being able to sleep, she left her temporary chambers, hoping to escape the restlessness she felt when lying underneath the sheets. 

Even though the wind and snow raged outside, the stone floors of the Keep were surprisingly heated, making her steps easy. With the Keep built over natural hot springs, the stones coursed with a natural heat that allowed her to comfortably walk without shoes. She envied the Starks for their large castle and the heat it provided. Most nights in her own home, she struggled to stay warm.

The halls were eerily quiet as she pushed on. She couldn't help but feel chills as she walked with her flowing sleeping gown on. She hoped she wouldn't get lost, for it would be embarrassing.

Soon, she found herself pausing at an open window, where moonlight was spilling onto the floor. She gazed out, seeing a full moon high in the night sky. Feeling isolated in the darkness, she wanted to find her brother and wake him so she didn't have to be alone.

Suddenly, the slightest sound of someone approaching her has her reeling. The little flame burning on the tip of the candlestick flickers as she moves, her back going against the hollowed frame of the window as her wide brown eyes look around.

"Who's there?" She half growls, half whimpers. Her heart is racing, making her want to do nothing but bolt. All to her surprise, the boy she'd been entranced by just the day before stepped out of the darkness and into the light of her candle.

"A bit jumpy, aren't you?" Robb Stark smirks. She is both relieved and absolutely terrified that he is the one to step from the darkness. She would have rather it been her brother trying to play a trick on her, but simultaneously, she was craving to talk to him.

"Of course I am," she mutters softly, realizing she isn't nearly dressed properly to be present before the one she already fancied. "This isn't my home."

Robb gets closer until he is leaning one shoulder against the wall with his arms crossed. He is dressed in a cotton shirt and leather pants, a sign that he might have been roaming the halls without sleep. "Why is it that you are wandering the halls of my home, then?"

She half sneers, an attempt at trying not to giggle at his jab. She tries desperately not to stare at him, particularly his lips and blue eyes. "I couldn't sleep," she mutters.

"Well, neither could I," he replies. "Perhaps you would like some company then?"

Evolet vividly recalls how her mother forbade her from talking to Robb. She said that it was tragic enough that Lukas was marrying the eldest girl, Ismene; Evolet had already decided that she liked the girl, and she knew she would probably like Robb even more. She didn't care what her mother said; she never cared enough to make her feel loved, so she would try her best to find it alone.

"I suppose a little company wouldn't hurt," she replies, the slightest of smirks gracing her lips. Robb returns it, but it is larger and more playful. He suddenly grabs her free hand, sending her heart into overdrive. He leads her in the opposite direction, further into the darkness.

The Stark heir brings her to a secluded room that seems no one inhabits. Luckily, there wasn't much dust covering the room's furniture, by what she could tell, but once the candlelight struck the bed, her heart dropped. Despite eyeing the piece of furniture, she watched as he made his way over to the fireplace. He grabbed a few pieces of wood stacked against it and shoved them inside. Using some fire-starting tools nearby, he had a fire blazing not long after.

When he rose to his feet, they met eyes for a brief moment before he took a seat on the rug-covered floor. She set the candlestick on the table nearby before making her way over to sit next to him. Once seated, they sat in thick silence while watching the flames dance. She felt herself lightly shaking as adrenaline did its job of making her beyond nervous.

"Do you like it here?" Robb asks, finally breaking the silence. Evolet feels as if her words are caught in her throat. After clearing it, she answers.

"Most definitely," she replies with a murmur. The heat from the fire feels wonderful on her face and neck. As she leaned with one arm out, she accidentally touched his hand. They immediately look at each other. Evolet is unable to draw in the sharp breath she needs so badly.

"What do you love most about it?" He asks at nearly a whisper while they slowly gravitate toward each other. Her heart beats faster as she realizes there is no turning back.

"I guess I like the dire wolves," she whispers as a light smile pulls at the corner of her lips. She can feel the ache within her, the desire to know him tearing her apart as they are nearly face to face. "They're wild and free. I hope a particular person can show me what it's like to live as such."

It all happened so quickly. Between the instant contact of their lips and a single shove toward the ground, Robb is easily on top of her. She doesn't fight it while she allows his hands to wander and their lips to move. The feeling of her heart pounding in her chest was almost too much for her to take, yet the exhilaration that coursed through her veins was elating.

With each article of clothing removed, the heat from the fire flares on their skin like nothing before. They drink in each other's scent, tasting each other's lips as if they sipping at the sweetest Dornish red. Evolet finally felt wanted by none other than the one she was forbidden to know.

A Stark.