┏━ tribulation.
( SCENE 20 ) ━┛

EVOLET was livid once Robb told her he'd leave on a hunt with the king the next day. Had their night together not been enough to keep him at her side while she was at Winterfell? Had he already grown bored of her? The girl didn't know. Even as she sat in the presence of Ismene, Aubrey, Enith, and Sansa, she could not care less about what they all conversed about. As they talked, they worked on embroidery.

"It's a shame the queen couldn't join us," Sansa mutters lowly as she picks at her embroidery. "I wish she could have joined us."

"There's plenty of time to see her," Enith reassures her. "For now, you have us."

"So, Aubrey, Lukas tells me you've been successful in your skills lately," Ismene says, referring to her cousin's recent hunt.

Aubrey seemed ecstatic that her skills were being recognized by everyone.

"I suppose I have been. Just recently, I downed an elk bull with a single arrow. I bested all the men that day," the blonde Mandal heir chirped.

Enith chuckled at her side. "She's been telling everyone about that."

Ismene hummed at her cousin's enthusiasm. "Women like you are rare these days. Not many are willing to pick up a weapon as you."

Aubrey shrugged and nodded as the quiet Enith spoke up.

"My skills are growing," Evolet's youngest cousin seemed to remind her sister with a playful wink. "Don't forget it's in both of our blood."

Those in attendance chuckled light heartedly.

"Then there are those of us who prefer needlework," Sansa grins. "Like Evolet, Ismene, and I."

"I know your work is wonderful," Aubrey praises her friend. I'm sure you'll be making something wonderful for your little one to come."

Ismene's cheeks redden at the mention of her condition, and she shrugs with a smile. "I'm sure I will be," she tells her, still not entirely set on the fact that she was with a child. With the ample time I have at Lakewell, I'm sure I'll make multiple items."

"Motherhood is a blessing, I'm sure the queen would tell you," Aubrey says. "The pain is worth it all, I'm sure."

"What about you, Evolet?" Sansa speaks up. "Has your father promised you to someone?"

The girl was caught off guard, pausing on the piece she barely noticed. She set it down in her lap as she pursed her lips.

"My father hasn't come to terms with a betrothal yet," the girl admitted. Then she remembered what he'd mentioned in the recent past about the Riverlands. "But he had mentioned striking a deal with Hoster Tully about his heir, Edmure."

It was the utter truth that she'd rather die than marry anyone other than Robb.

Aubrey nodded knowingly, her full lips pulling back into a weak smile. "Yes, the Riverlands would suit a girl like you," the archer says. "You're nubile and a true northern beauty. It's a wonder how no Lord has uncovered you."

Well, maybe except for Robb, the she-fox thought to herself.

Evolet's cheeks fill with heat as she looks down in flattery.

"I must admit I'm somewhat parched," Aubrey exclaims. She turns to her handmaiden, who is sitting nearby. "Neve, dear, would you mind fetching me some water?" The raven-haired girl bowed her head to her lady before making her way out of the room.

Standing just outside of the room was Terran. The man had been standing there for who knows how long, at some points growing sleepy after having spent The night enjoying time with family and friends at the feast. When the door opened, though, he was snapped awake. The person to appear was none other than the handmaiden he'd fancied when they'd arrived. The raven-haired girl didn't seem to see him at first, but he managed to stop her.

"M'lady," Terran says, which causes the girl to whirl around and land her striking blue eyes on him. At the site of him, they seemed to soften.

Her cheeks blushed slightly as her gaze was cast to the ground. "I'm no lady," the girl admits with a flirtatious grin playing at her lips. "Just a handmaiden."

Terran cocks a brow as he rests a hand on the pommel of his sword in a nonchalant way. The girl's eyes darted to the weapon as she smirked before looking back at him.

"Well, then, what might I call the handmaiden?" He asked, trying to play his smolder the best he could. It was rather hard, though, as the girl was a beauty, and he found it difficult to keep still features.

"Neve Ravenwood, Lady Aubrey's handmaiden," she curtsied playfully. "And who might you be?"

"Terran Bayle, the personal guard of Lady Ismene," he replies. "I was once a part of the Stark house guard, but Lord Eddard sent me to live in Lakewell with her."

Neve nods, and Terran notices the way the girl's blue eyes gaze over him. She is much shorter than him, yet even in his armor, he already feels so small in front of her. He can't believe the effect she is already having on him.

"Well, Terran," Neve purrs. "I shall return shortly as Lady Aubrey requests a refreshment."

Terran then watched the handmaiden make her way down the hall, leaving him thinking about the raven-haired beauty he'd finally managed to talk to.

When Neve finally returned just a little while later, Terran had expected a playful greeting from the pretty girl, but instead, he found her out of breath and wide-eyed. Alarmed, he grew rigid.

"Neve, w-what happened?" He asked immediately once the girl managed to stop.

"Bran— the young boy, the Stark," she was still trying to breathe. "He's fallen."

Terran's eyes grew wide. Ismene would be heartbroken to find out, and he felt just the same way for having to be the one to tell her. He didn't hesitate to turn and burst into the room where the ladies were conversing, earning the looks of many different-colored eyes of curiosity.

"Something has happened," he announced, clearing his throat. "Brandon Stark has had an accident."

❆

WORD that Bran has fallen spread like wildfire, and Ismene cursed whatever the Gods were doing. She had finally found peace for the first time in a while, only to be ripped away with more chaos. She thought herself to have struck an unlucky chord with fate.

The woman raced down the hall, Sansa and Aubrey following close behind while the others followed. The Stark children raced faster than the others toward the courtyard, Sansa already frantically crying. Ismene managed to keep her emotions at bay as they burst into the courtyard.

As the she-wolf caught site of the forming crowd in the near distance, Ismene could only think that Lukas shouldn't have left. Nor Darik. No, it seemed that just as things were well again, chaos assumed.

Once they pushed their way through the small crowd, Ismene found her mother crouched on the ground next to a still Bran, sobbing uncontrollably. The girl wrapped her arms around her mother as she wept. The site of her little brother was silent and still seemed to hit her deep in the heart, and she could only think of a time when he was only four years old and as adorable as ever. Now, there was no telling what would become of him as he lay motionless.

❆

LUKAS and Darik seemed to have settled on a silent agreement that they wouldn't speak to each other during the entire hunt, so everything would run smoothly. It went smoothly until they arrived back in Winterfell feeling exhausted. A few men had managed to down some game, making the hunt worthwhile.

The overcast that covered the evening sky above made the evening seem darker than normal. The hunting party had returned with many trophies, including a stag downed by Lukas himself. The heir was overly excited to tell his wife about his luck, but his smile faded after he'd dismounted his horse and turned to see her standing nearby with Terran. Tears streamed down her face, and her guard held a solemn expression.

With his horse being led away, the heir immediately approached his wife. Her sad eyes followed him until he finally stopped in front of her. Darik had followed as well, seeing his twin in distress, but Lukas didn't care then. Something was wrong.

"Ismene, love, what's wrong?" Lukas asked, almost afraid that it had something to do with their unborn child. It didn't, he finally concluded, when he saw her hand laying protectively over her belly.

"Bran," she managed to utter. "He fell."

"No," Darik uttered at Lukas' side, panic entering his tone. "No, don't tell me he's—"

Ismene shook her head, not even wanting to acknowledge that her little brother might be on death's bed. No one knew what would become of him, not even Maester Luwin. For now, it was a waiting game.

"He's been unconscious since it happened," she utters. "He's in bed right now."

"Take me to him," Darik said immediately.

When the Stark twins turned to leave, Lukas stayed where he was, knowing it wasn't his place to barge in on the grieving Starks. He could only watch his wife walk away with Darik close behind. He was thankful that at least they'd made up.

Not far away from him stood the black-haired boy Lukas had known to be the bastard Jon. He hadn't spoken to him much, but from the pained expression on the boy's face, he knew he was also upset.

"Why don't you go see him?" Lukas suggests, his words catching Snow's attention. Jon's black eyes looked at Lukas for only a moment before looking back down, and the heir wandered over to where he stood.

"That wouldn't be wise," Jon replies softly. "Lady Stark wouldn't appreciate my presence."

"Because you're a bastard?"

Lukas' words seem to wound Jon, and he regrets being harsh.

"Don't worry," Lukas tries to offer some comfort. "My brother Rorik is a bastard as well. He's my mother's son and a fine lad who took the Black. Just because you are born with the last name Snow doesn't mean that you're anything less."

With a reassuring grip on Jon's shoulder, Lukas wandered off with the bastard looking after him, a mind swirling with thoughts.