┏━ tribulation.
( SCENE 21 ) ━┛

A week and a half later, Bran still hadn't woken. It was a looming omen to all the anxious and worried Starks that brooded throughout the castle while waiting, including Lukas' pregnant and upset wife. He didn't want to tell her they had to return to Lakewell, but how could he let them stay any longer? He had to return to his lordly duties with his father. He wanted to give his wife the desires of her heart, to see her little brother wake up, but there was only so much he could do.

The Lakewell heir was caught within the ominous haze that had descended up Winterfell. It hadn't lifted a bit, for all knew that if the boy woke, he would be crippled forever. Whatever chance he had at being a normal man one day was gone.

Lukas meandered down the hall, not heading in any direction or to a specific destination. With Ismene off with Darik, saying their farewells before they finally departed home, Lukas was left alone. Obviously, Evolet was tangled under the sheets with Robb somewhere, as the heir had quickly figured out why his sister had joined them at Winterfell in the first place. Deep down, he wouldn't feel sorry for her if she got with a child. His sister was naive, and she would pay for it.

Amid his thoughts, the Fox didn't even notice his good father heading in his direction. When Lord Stark finally came into his view, Lukas suddenly stopped. Ned did as well, the same melancholic expression painted on his face he'd been carrying for days.

"Lukas," Ned greeted weakly. "How are you fairing today?"

Lukas cleared his throat. "Quite well, m'lord," the younger man replied. Ned clasped Lukas's hand and gave him a reassuring look.

"Don't worry about the formalities, son," Ned managed to crack a grin he didn't feel. "You're the father of my first grandchild. We are family. Now, walk with me."

Lukas did as his liege lord said, following the older man down the hall in the direction he'd been going. He would be lying if he said he still didn't feel nervous around Ned, as he didn't spend much time around the man, and he was Ismene's father. He hoped deep down that if Ned could like him, Darik would eventually do so. Only for Ismene's sake, of course.

"You're leaving tomorrow, I hear," the lord began as they walked leisurely. Lukas wondered where the king might be if not at Ned's side.

"We are," Lukas agrees. My father will need me back as I assume my roles. He's still grooming me as lord."

Ned nodded. "I am to assume a new role soon," He tells him. "I will be leaving for King's Landing to assume the position as Hand of the King. While I'm away, I already trust you'll take care of my Ismene with all my heart. She is safe. As for my heir... I can't say the same. If a problem should arise for Darik, stand with him. Will you do that for me?"

As much as Lukas wanted to say no, he knew he couldn't. Darik would be his liege lord once he officially rose to the position, and he knew he'd dread the day if they still played their game of hate. No matter what, he would bow to Darik eventually, which made his blood boil.

"I will," Lukas promises, even though he feels it half-heartedly. This is my family as well, and I will stand with it."

Ned's expression was relieved. He feels very pleased to know he found someone who would truly stand for his family should any problems arise. He didn't think anything would, but he wanted to establish a basis for when he was in the South. Once the North was beyond his reach, he knew Winterfell and his House could be vulnerable. He was leaving it all in Darik's hands now.

"I'm glad to see how loyal you are," Ned smiles. "If only there were more men like you, Lukas. The North— the country could use more like you. We are not very close, but I am proud of you. I chose wisely when I gave you my daughter."

With a pat to the back, Ned wandered away from Lukas and disappeared down the hall. With the kind words still replaying in his mind, the heir felt a little more of the weight lift off of his chest.

❆

THE last time Ismene had been in the Godswood, she and Darik had made up from their spell of contempt. Being with him again only allowed room for growth, which she would take after they'd finally mended what had broken.

Of course, Bran's accident didn't help, not with the worry it caused all of them. However, the twins used the opportunity to further mend what had been broken, and they found that the escape from most of their pain was in each other.

As the two sat next to each other on the stone bench under the Weirwood, Ismene felt like she did in old times—times when they were children, running through the forest, laughing and playing, sharing secrets and stories. She loved her other half with all of her being, and she would declare it to the world.

"Have you considered names?" Darik asks her as her head rests against his shoulder. She smirks at the mention of her child, especially Darik, who spoke of it. She had truly dreaded when he'd been angered over her pregnancy but now he seemed as if he only wanted to dote over his future niece or nephew.

"I've considered a few," she smirks. "But I'm not going to tell you. It's a surprise."

Darik chuckles. "Will I have to wait until the birth to find out then? I would much rather be able to prepare the gift in advance. Names hold personalities, y'know."

She laughs lightly as her hand drifts to her belly. It didn't show unless her midriff was bare, but she somehow knew it would be visible sooner rather than later. She had a hunch.

"You will be their favorite uncle no matter what," she promises. "I don't think Robb or Bran care too much, and Rickon is too small. I suppose Jon would want to meet them, but with him going to the Wall, I don't think we'll see much of him anymore."

It was true that Ismene would miss her half-brother. She truly cared for him, and it sorrowed her to see him sell himself off to the Night's Watch. The thought of their bond being almost severed hurt her deeply. It was his life, though, and there wasn't much else he could do. She had considered asking him to join the house guard at Lakewell, but she knew he belonged to something higher.

"I suppose I will be, then," Darik seems pleased at the thought. "I like the sound of Uncle Darik, don't you?"

Ismene nods as she smiles. "Perhaps one day I'll be Aunt Ismene if you snag a particular archer."

"I'm trying my best," Darik says playfully in his defense as he runs a hand through his dusty brown hair.

Ismene can only think of the prophecy.

The Archer will fight valiantly, but the Wolf cannot defend.

"You two will be wonderful together," she says, not betraying the uneasiness she felt inside.

Darik nods, obviously thinking about the Mandal heir he cares so much for.

"I will miss you once you're gone," he murmurs, changing the subject.

"I will be back soon enough," she promises. "To present a little niece or nephew to their favorite uncle."

❆

EVOLET peppered Robb's face with kisses as she lay on top of him next to the blazing fire they'd been tending to all night and morning. Evolet didn't care if anyone wondered where they might be or what they might be doing. If only they knew what a night, or better, nights, the two had spent together, they'd understand. 

She was free to do as she wanted, as Lukas didn't know, and Ismene didn't care. That allowed the Estemore girl to finally fill the emptiness she'd bared for over the moon. The fortnight she'd spent with Robb was something out of a tale.

"My little fox is eager, I see," Robb hummed as he held her.

She smirked before biting her lip the same way she knew drove him crazy. "I must be, as I'll be leaving soon, and I don't know when I will see you again."

"Soon," he seemed to promise her. "I've already spoken to my fathers about our engagement."

Robb knew it was a lie.

Evolet grinned wildly as she then pressed her lips against his. They both sank into the kiss, letting out pleasured moans before pulling apart once more. The girl was overtaken by sheer emotion, wanting to express in the way she'd withheld for so long.

"I love you."

Robb was silent.

Evolet felt a tinge of worry form in her chest as she saw his Tully blue eyes look away from her. Why wasn't he saying it back? Did she upset him? What was wrong?

There was a long pause before he sighed.

"Evolet."

She knew at that moment that he didn't love her back. The man, no, the boy she'd given herself to, seemed to have only ever wanted her for what she could do to please him. How could she have been so foolish? So foolish as to think he could love her for merely being her.

Mother was right, the wounded girl thought to herself. The Starks seem to be a selfish breed.

She shoved herself off of his chest, her lithe, bare body feeling the heat from the fire as she crossed the room to retrieve her clothing. She couldn't bear to look at him where he lay; those blue eyes she loved trained on her.

"Evolet, please."

"I don't want to hear it," she snapped, the pain evident in her cracked tone. Tears were already beginning to form.

"You can't just leave like this. We have something here. I don't want to give you up."

After she'd quickly pulled the garment over her body and turned to face him. Her deep brown eyes held a mixture of resentment and pain.

"You don't want to give up what I can offer you," she mutters lowly. "Perhaps anyone who spreads their legs for you could make you happy. I'm sure. But it's evident love is not something in your vocabulary."

Robb was sitting up now, looking at her with a hurt expression. Despite feeling like she still loved him, Evolet couldn't look at him any longer.

"You must know that my future is not in my control," he states matter-factly. "I cannot choose who I marry."

Evolet flared with rage, yet she didn't display it.  Of course, he had lied about their betrothal. No, she wouldn't be the one to carry on the pain. She would be dealing with enough once she returned home to the place that only ever made her feel alone. The place that felt like a prison.

She scowls. "If you truly want something," she says lowly, feeling the pain of the truth she spoke of hitting her deep down. Securing her dress onto her body, she fixed her hair enough that questions wouldn't arise. "You'll get it. I'm proof enough."

Without another word, the Estemore girl fled from the room. Just outside the door sat Greywind, the beast she'd grown to love, whom she'd imagined protecting their children in the future. The thought of her broken dreams was too overwhelming as she disappeared at the end of the hall.

❆

THE last night in Winterfell, when Ismene and Lukas lay beside each other, was peaceful. It seemed that, in each other's arms, under the furs, nothing could reach them. Not their worries, not their fears. With her head lying on his chest, Lukas loved to keep his hand on her ever-swelling belly that held his child.

They often enjoyed listening to the fire crackle across the room, offering a warming glow that danced on the walls and often lulled them asleep. Fenrir liked to sleep on the floor beside her bed, resting his big furry head on his large paws. Sometimes, his dreaming whimpers could be heard.

"Ismene," Lukas speaks up, his voice raspy after having not talked for a while.

She looked up at him, seeing his stormy eyes trained on her in a sleepy, thoughtful way. The father of her child was so handsome, so kind, and so gentle. Even as she looked up at him, feeling pride swell inside her over the fact she'd married someone such as he, she felt utter bliss. As she gazed up at him, his next words took her thoughts straight from her mind.

"I think I love you."