┏━ tribulation.
( SCENE 4 ) ━┛

FULFILLING his promise to deliver another 'Whispering Wood' to Cersei, Darik leads the northern forces against the Lannister's at Oxcross after just recently sweeping through a small camp that was poorly guarded at the dead of night. With each battle won, the number of dead stacked taller than those who were taken as prisoner, which had been a increasing problem among Darik's host.

As the Hand of the King, Lukas had suggested that taking more and more prisoners after every victory would not only affect their own rations, but divert part of their forces in ensuring that secure imprisonment of the Lannister men. Darik didn't care about the possibilities. He was set on being the honorable player in the war they fought and not dispatching of prisoners in some horrible ways that a handful of the lords suggested. Lukas merely obliged to Darik's refusal, but with each victory, his worry grew worse.

"You most definitely delivered your promise, Your Grace," Darik's uncle Daulton Ryswell beamed as they gathered to survey the aftermath of the battle. Bodies littered the place, mostly those dressed in crimson luckily. They themselves were grimy after the gruesome fighting, but mostly unhurt at least.

"It's almost as if they aren't trying," Lukas remarked from Darik's side. "It's been almost too easy."

"We can't count on their ignorance forever," Darik warned. "They might be easy to defeat now, but Tywin Lannister never repeats a mistake once he's learned what went wrong."

"That's true," Daulton agreed. "I suppose that golden bastard has always been good at learning."

"It's a shame," Lukas remarked. "These southerners aren't fairing well being away from home. By the way they've kept up, I'd wager that few of them have seen battle until now."

"They don't do well so far north," Darik agreed. "That's why we've done so well."

"Good riddance, I say," Daulton chirped. "More them less us. They have the numbers but we most definitely have the advantage."

"It makes me wonder just how long this war could carry out," Lukas points out solemnly. "We could have the advantage for the duration of it all, but they have the numbers. And the funds."

"All we're trying to do is beat our way to King's Landing," Darik reminds him. "We're going to get Arya and Sansa. If it takes ten years, so be it. I won't rest until I've seen these bastarda dead and gone. The Lannister's have caused too much sorrow to go without retribution."

The trio's attention is drawn by figures appearing in the near distance. Already, the band of healers known as the Silent Sisters vegan to make their appearance among the battle ground. Their ranks had been following the northern host battle after battle, tending to wounded and blessing the dead. The three watch as the Silent Sisters descend on the wounded, their hooded figures an ominous presence on a fresh battle field.

"They're a morbid bunch," Daulton commented.

"Of course they are," Lukas said. "They follow an army and tend to its dead wherever we go. One's bound to be as such."

"They probably think we're the cause of this all," Darik muttered. "Which is unfortunate."

"War is unfortunate," Lukas pointed. "There's no true winners. Just one side without a few less dead than the other."

"For a Silent Sister, she is quite a rose among thorns," Daulton exclaims enthusiastically, bringing a new mood about them all.

Their attention is drawn to the the near distance, where the only visible woman without a grey hood and headdress covering her head. She has olive toned skin and flowing dark locks. Her apron is blood stained and her simple grey dress muddied, but she seems determined to push through as she tends to a fallen Northman.

"How is it you've not found a wife yet, uncle?" Darik asked with a cocked brow.

Daulton shrugged. "I suppose I've just not been looking."

"Quite strange," Lukas remarked. "You'd think a marriage would have been arranged when you were young."

"Ah, well," Daulton's expression turned still. "After my sister Ismene died. . . Our parents weren't to concerned about much. Neither was I. Therefore, I never looked for a wife. Perhaps I should be trying now. I am the lord of my house, after all."

Darik and Lukas watch as Daulton makes his way toward the Silent Sister, both displaying amused looks.

"It's nice to see that some people can handle death well," Lukas says. "At least he seems as if he can."

"Well, anyone in this host is going to have to handle it some way or another," Darik pointed out. "Unfortunately we don't have time for everyone to grieve the way they want."

"Fair," Lukas agreed. "Let's just hope we don't have any deaths of our own. We won't have the time to grieve for them."

❆

LAILA Stark cooed in her mother's arms as she fed her tiny spoonfuls of porridge. Bran and Rickon were eating particularly well that evening, Evolet noted as she fed her daughter, mostly likely because they been taken to the Wolves Wood that day by Robb. It was a calm evening and all who were seated at the table ate happily. Osha had become a familiar sight sense joining them in Winterfell and Evolet has been grateful for the female company, no matter how reserved and masculine the Wildling was.

Maester Luwin always joined them for dinner, Evolet noticed. She wondered if the Stark's were closer to their Maester than her own house was with theirs. She assumed so, for her house was far more reserved and uptight.

Evolet looked around at everyone at the table, enjoying their company. She smiled to herself as she offered another spoonful of porridge to her daughter, who happily accepted. Robb, who sat to Evolet's right, would often look over to their daughter and display wide smiles which would coax a giggle out of the baby.

"Evolet," Bran spoke up.

"Yes, hun?" She smiled.

"Laila is a Stark now," the boy pointed out as he swirled around the contents of his cup. "So does that make you one as well?" It causes the table to grow quieter than it had been. "She is Robb's heir after all."

"I—," she was stuck not knowing what to say, but thankfully Robb swooped in to save her.

"Evolet and I are focusing on raising Laila right now," he informed Bran gently. "When the time comes to discuss further matters, we will. And all will know our decision."

"Robb has plenty of responsible as well," Luwin tries coming up with something as well. "When they decide they wish to be together, they will. War is a tedious thing, Bran."

"Well, I sure would like her to stay around after it all," Bran told his elder brother and Luwin. He looked to Evolet. "I wouldn't mind another sister."

Evolet smiled widely. "And I wouldn't mind another brother," she tells him. "Lukas is the only sibling I had growing up and my—was he reckless."

Laila begins to form a cry in her throat, immediately drawing the attention of Robb. She beams over how attentive he has become of their daughter in the past moons. Evolet tries to bounce Laila but the baby continues.

"She's probably tired," Robb says as he begins to rise from his seat. "I'll take her and put her to bed."

"Thank you," Evolet smiles as she allows him to take their daughter.

"That means you two as well," Robb looks to Bran and Rickon, who both put up a fit but obey their elder brother. Hodor is called into the room to retrieve Bran before following after Robb to put the boys to bed.

"I'll retire as well, m'lady," Osha tells Evolet as she rises from her seat.

"Of course, Osha," Evolet tells her as the Wilding goes to leave. "Goodnight."

With all but Evolet and Luwin gone, the room grows quieter. She enjoys the company of the old man whenever she is with him. He always offered her the kindest words and best advice.

"Is there any news?" She asks the Maester as she begins to work on her meal once more.

"The most recent news I've heard was of the Whispering Wood," Luwin tells her. "That was weeks ago. There's no telling where they may be now."

"I hope that things continue in the direction they've been going," she says as she cut the venison on her plate. "Things are going well. It's just unfortunate it came to war at all."

"Wars are unfortunate," Luwin agrees. "Men die. But they happen whether we like to or not. On the subject of wars. . ." He pauses. "Have you and Robb discussed things between you both?"

Evolet's expression falls. She doesn't like discussing the status of she and her daughter's father, but it cannot go forever without be resolved.

"Not very much," she tells him. "I don't know if he wants me still, truthfully. He has legitimized our daughter and that's all I could ever want. . . But I don't know if we'll ever be married."

Luwin frowns. "It is apparent that you are ready," he tells him. "But he is not. Give more time for you both to find yourselves as parents. You are cooperating exponentially and that is very mature to you."

"I'm trying my best," she admits. "As much as my emotions towards him and all that has happened change in my heart, I fight everyday to accept that my daughter is all that I have right now."

"You don't just have your daughter, Evolet," the Maester corrects her. "You have a family with the Stark's. Bran. Rickon. The Wildling woman. Even Hodor. I am here for you always, you know that as well."

Evolet begins to tear up at the thought for she'd never had the same type of support living with her real family. It was all strange to her.

"I have felt more welcome here in Winterfell in the moons I've been here than I ever did at Lakewell," she tells him truthfully. "This is all different to me. My mother is unloving and cold, my father reserved and quiet. . . That is not a life for a child and I am thankful Laila won't see it."

Luwin smirks slightly, gazing at her with pride. "You are a strong woman, Evolet. Stronger than you give yourself credit to. Despite all that you've faced, the hate, the resentment, the loneliness, you've carried yourself through. Never lose that."

Evolet smiles as tears finally roll down her cheeks. "I wish I had known you years ago, Maester Luwin," she tells him. "The kindness you give is rare in this world."

"Perhaps in the future, you can carry on what I have started," he suggests. "Spread your kindness to all in hopes that the world may become better, one person at a time."