┏━ tribulation.
( SCENE 10 ) ━┛

AMIDST celebration and joyful feasting, reality overcame Ismene Estemore like no other emotion had that day. 

After forcing herself to dance, she sat at her place on the platform in the great hall with Fenrir sitting attentively at her side. His ears perked, and golden eyes trained on the celebrating people below as if he dared anyone to come close to her. The dire wolf seemed to keep guard of her, not allowing anyone who wasn't first identified by a sniff to come to a close. It was as if the beast could sense her uneasiness and was trying to make his master comfortable.

Unsurprisingly, Lukas wasn't at her side. It seemed that as soon as they bound themselves to one another under the watchful gaze of the weir-wood, Lukas was already finding excuses to be away from her. She wasn't sure if it was because he was overwhelmed, upset, or both. She felt as if she had a part in it, and it burdened her heart.

To her amazement, though, as she spent her time lazily scanning the crowd, she spotted him making his way over to her twin, who stood with arms crossed as one of his shoulders leaned against the wall. She prayed their conversation wouldn't end badly as she slid to the edge of her seat in anticipation of a possible fistfight.

As Lukas begrudgingly approached Darik Stark, his heart thumped wildly in his chest. He didn't want to leave Winterfell without making amends with his new brother-in-law if it were even possible.

"Darik," Lukas uttered as he finally rounded up. It seemed as if all the mental preparation he'd done did him no good as Darik's attention turned toward him. His grey eyes narrowed in suspicion as the slightest beginnings of a sneer appeared on his features.

"Lukas," the heir replied blandly as his eyes looked him up and down with disgust. "What brings you to speak to me?"

Lukas clears his throat. He would've never thought twice about clearing things up with Ismene's brother. He was the type that Lukas, more often than not, got into skirmishes with. He figured it would be the first step in showing Ismene that he had no ill will with her family.

"I wish to clear any grievances we may have," Lukas explains with all good intent. "We are brothers now, and soon enough, I'm sure we'll be bound by blood." He even allows a somewhat kind smile to appear on his lips. It doesn't seem to do any good. His words only seem to anger the Stark.

Darik straightens up, no longer leaning against the wall but now standing. He is easily the same height as Lukas, who is tall himself. They look eye to eye, grey locked with grey in a gaze of stormy tension. Lukas begins to think it will all end badly as he prepares to engage in a physical fight.

"You think we are brothers?" Darik mutters more than he asks. The sneer that had almost manifested early finally appeared. Lukas regretted ever thinking he'd be able to get on good terms with his wife's brother. "You think we are family? Because we are not. If you so much as upset her, you'll answer to me. You may have won my sister over, but she will always be a Stark, a wolf. And wolves don't bow to the likeness of foxes."

Darik then stalked away. Lukas is left speechless, not knowing how to take what was just said. Part of him wanted to be understanding, accepting that Darik was losing his twin sister and that there was nothing he could do about it. Another part of Lukas wanted to land his fist right in the smug look of his brother-in-law and call it a day.

He fought the urge away with all he had and instead turned to return to sitting beside his new wife. He would not embarrass her in front of her family; it would make no sense for him to engage Darik in a fight if he had just previously sought to amend their differences.

As he made his way toward his seat beside Ismene, he could feel the gazes of many following him. As he walked, he couldn't get what Darik said out of his head: 'she is a wolf, and wolves don't bow to the likeness of foxes'. 

For a moment, Lukas felt he wasn't qualified or good enough to have a former Stark as his wife. She could've been a queen one day from a great house, but instead, she married a lesser Lord. At that moment, Lukas Estemore didn't feel as high and mighty.

Ismene's lazy gaze was caught by her husband's approaching figure. He was wandering up to their table and taking a seat in his chair. Fenrir watched him carefully, causing her husband to look at her wearily.

"Don't fear him," Ismene encouraged. "He's only territorial. He'll grow to know you." She rubbed a hand between the beast's ears, ruffling his grey and white fur in the process. It didn't seem to bother the animal as he only continued to watch Lukas intently.

"I don't believe my mother will permit him to live within Lakewell, I'm afraid," Lukas tells her as he eyes the animal. Her gaze immediately falters, her mahogany eyes looking down.

Immediately, Lukas continues, even though he knows it'll cause problems in the future. "But my mother will have no say," he says quickly. Ismene looks back up, her eyes sad as if she'd lost all hope in something. "I'll make sure my wife is happy. You'll take whatever you wish, even if it is the dire wolf."

She doesn't say anything further on the subject, only offering him a weak, appreciative smile. His promise makes her feel better, and she gazes at him just a moment longer before looking at the commotion below them, where many are dancing, drinking, and eating.

Suddenly, his hand slips into hers. It was a risky move, and he didn't exactly think their marriage warranted any physical contact yet, but Ismene seemed more surprised than she did upset. Luckily, the wolf at their feet didn't rip his arm off, instead lying on the ground and resting its head on its giant paws. Ismene looks over with the slightest gasp of surprise as her heart thumps wildly, her brown eyes meeting his grey. He smiles reassuringly at her, and she feels at peace for the first time that day.

On the floor below the platform, Evolet watches as people dance. She sees Enith Mandal swinging around with the little Bran Stark while Sansa and Jeyne Poole gossip while sitting perched at one of the tables. Even her cousin Aubrey and the Stark heir Darik were finally engaging in dance together, which was something she'd never seen.

She huffed a sigh, her brown eyes sad. She knew her expression was probably visible all the way from King's Landing, but she couldn't help it. She craved to dance, not just with anyone, but with Robb. Sadly, he'd kept his distance from her since their intimate night together, where she'd felt like a princess and nothing else mattered. 

For a while, she believed that he'd used her. She convinced herself otherwise when she recalled him telling her he would make her his wife one day, that she would be his Lady Stark, and they would be happy together.

She clung to those words and knew she would for a long time. It felt as if it were the sole thing keeping her going amidst all that was going wrong. Just as she lifted her gaze, it suddenly met a pair of familiar blue eyes that crossed the crowd.

From across the room, Robb was attempting to coax her over. He mouthed something like, 'Want to dance?' She then replied, 'We'll be seen,' and he answered, 'So?'

She thought on it momentarily, thinking she didn't care what her mother or anyone else had to say. She was sick of never enjoying her life or being happy and wouldn't have it any longer.

Just as she began to rise to her feet to meet Robb on the dance floor, a sudden grasp of her arm had her reeling around. Behind her, baring a disgusted sneer, is none other than her lady mother, ready to rain down fire and brimstone upon her.

"What is it that you think you're doing?" Helen nearly growls. The site of her daughter looking longingly toward the Stark boy enraged the mother to no end. She would not see her daughter in the company of a Stark. He was hard enough to see her son married to one.

All the confidence Evolet had previously held vanished in the sudden presence of her mother.  She always made Evolet feel small and incompetent, a truly saddening feeling from one's mother.

"I—I–," she tries to reply, but her biggest mistake is looking back in Robb's direction.

Lady Helen doesn't miss it; her steely blue eyes land on the panicking Stark boy where he stands. Evolet knows that it all ends there. Helen immediately looks at her, her grip tightening to the point that she gasps in pain.

"Did I not forbid you from involving yourself with him?" Lady Estemore snarls above the sound of laughter and music. She then begins to pull Evolet away, who wants to cry out in pain and protest. As she's being dragged away, she looks back helplessly at Robb, who can only stay where he's at and do nothing.

❆

AS the night waned and Ismene and Lukas still clasped their hands together, the atmosphere seemed to change as they both allowed themselves to let down their guard. His hand was so much larger than hers, yet somehow, it felt like it fit so well. 

As they sat side by side, they sipped at the sweet wine offered to them. At one point, they grew slightly drunken as they talked. Their conversation drifted from the subjects of hobbies to philosophy and even preferences for children. Thinking about what the fermented drink could do to the mind was strange. They laughed uncontrollably at times, which seemed to attract those around them.

"It's time for the bedding ceremony!" Someone shouted from the floor below. It immediately drew Ismene's and Lukas' gazes to find the source, which they obviously couldn't. Those still soberly conscious looked up at them with concerned gazes as if they might lash out in protest. Soon, people began making their way toward them, most likely to carry them away to a readied bed chamber.

Fenrir was quick to stand in their defense; his teeth bared, and his ears turned back as a snarl began forming in his throat. She told the beast that everything was alright with a soft touch to the back. Though neither of them wanted to be carried away in such a manner to be shoved into a room so they might sleep together, they knew it was tradition, and it was coming.

A few men hoisted up Ismene while Lukas was carried nearby. People around them cheered, and she couldn't help but grimace slightly. As she bustled around, she narrowly caught the pained expressions of Darik and Aubrey, who stood side by side.

They were both carried down a hall before being deposited in a room. As the door closed behind them, with hoots and laughter, they both found it littered with glowing candles. The candles gave the room a serene glow, and the fireplace blazed with a warming fire. As Ismene's eyes drifted toward the bed, she felt her heart drop.

They were both somewhat intoxicated, and Lukas knew it. With a few words and hasty kisses, they could quickly and easily get done what they'd been brought there to do. It was the entire point of their marriage, as it had always been. However, a voice in the back of his mind said, this isn't what you want to do.

"Don't feel like you must do this," he told her, his words somewhat mumbled. He wandered to the fireplace, placing a hand on the wax-covered mantle to stabilize himself. "I'm not going to take your maidenhood just because they forced us in here. You do not love me, so I don't expect you to give yourself to me."

His words were music to her ears. It wasn't that she didn't find him attractive... there were points that she found him very attractive. His height, his broad shoulders, his grey eyes... she was a sucker for it all. But he was right; she didn't love him. Not yet. She didn't want to give herself to someone she didn't love and wanted to lose it all during a special time.

"In time, I will love you, Lukas," she replies evenly, even though her body wants to unleash a bout of anxious shivers. You are a noble man for valuing how I feel." Even at that moment, her subconscious told her that she indeed wanted him, as the flames danced on his features and his gaze was turned down. She forced herself to wander to the bed, where she sat and nervously clasped her hands together.

Lukas knew he was doing what was right. Unknowingly, he hadn't been able to stop thinking about her. When he'd seen her in her dress, with her white furs and flowing hair, it felt like something out of a story. He felt lucky to be able to call her his wife, but he didn't even know her that well. What he did know about her made him even more pleased.

"I will never intentionally do you wrong," he promises her as he turns around from the fire and crosses his arms. "You are my wife; my duty is to protect you." The sound of scratching claws on the wooden door indicated that Fenrir was panicking over Ismene's absence. "As it is your wolves', it seems," he jokes.

It causes a grin to grace her lips, only making Lukas' heart clench more. He can't help but smile as well.

Ismene can't force away the yawn that forms in the back of her throat, and she can feel the day's fatigue washing over her. She removes her shoes and pulls away some of the furs so that she may slip under them for warmth and hopefully return to the slumber she's had that morning, except more full. Once comfortable, she sees Lukas pulling some furs from the end.

"What are you doing?" She asks. Lukas looks at her as if it's obvious.

"I'm making a bed," he replies, pulling enough into his arms to make a pallet on the floor. It may have been stone, but he didn't care. He wasn't going to make her sleep on it.

"Just because we will not come together tonight does not mean that you cannot sleep next to me, Lukas," she says matter-factly as she looks at the empty spot at her side. He looks up at her with a cocked brow.

"I thought it wouldn't be right," he replies innocently.

Ismene shakes her head. "Put them back; this bed is large enough for two for a reason."

Lukas wants to protest, but he sees no point. Putting the furs back where they were, he pulls off his shoes and the doublet he'd been wearing so that he is in a cotton shirt and brown pants. Pulling away the furs, he slips in beside her.

Her heart leaps at their proximity. Their arms brush, and her cheeks fill with heat. Never in her life had she ever slept next to someone of the opposite gender besides Darik when they were but children. It was an entirely new experience for her.

"There is one thing I wouldn't mind not waiting for," she admits to him, hoping it doesn't sound too insinuating. He looks at her with a raised brow, which she then half smirks. Would you mind holding me?"

Lukas doesn't want to tell her no, so he sinks down into a comfortable spot before she finds a place with her head on his chest. His arm wraps around her, and they lay there in the peaceful quiet as husband and wife, listening to the crackle of the fire and reminiscing on their special day before eventually drifting to sleep.