┏━ tribulation.
( SCENE 8 ) ━┛

ISMENE watched Lukas spar with her uncle Dalton as she rocked a bassinet containing Rowan. At her side, her Frey handmaiden, Ana, held Damon at her side. Ismene was fortunate to have the help of Ana and Neve when it came to watching her sons, when she would decide to disappear into the woods surrounding the camp to escape the haunting reminder of her fathers death and enact her rage by using a wood cutting hatchet to destroy the side of a tree. Of course, Terran knew where she would go, as he would watch solemnly as she walked into the trees with a hatchet dangling in her hand and Fenrir trailing close behind. The Whispering Woods was where they found out about their father's death and it was a godsend that they would be on the move again.

In the sky, a red comet blazed with all the brightness of a looming omen. When the thing had appeared just a few nights prior, the men and lord's of host began to proclaim their inevitable victory, for nothing could ensure the end like a blazing red comet. Ismene didn't believe so, for she only thought of her father's death when she looked at the beautiful flame that stuck out against the blue sky.

As the woman watched her husband twist and block and swing, she could only envy him. She grew entranced by the way he moved, able to declare his rage and emotions in his movements. Lukas was quite good with a sword and with every day he trained harder, he only grew better. There were times growing up where she wished she'd been born a boy, when she was the only girl in the company of Darik, Robb, and Jon and she couldn't quite keep up or fight as well before she was scalded for even partaking in such unladylike activities.

Lukas pushed Dalton toward the left with his relentless blows and her weary eyes follow. They exchange words, excited smiles and looks of friendly rivalry gleaming in there eyes. As the two fend each other off, Ismene sees a lone sword leaning against a torch pole. The temptation is true and demanding as her eyes graze up and down the leather sheath. Some man must have left it without a second thought and she planned to only borrow it momentarily.

"Ana," Ismene murmurs as she stops rocking Rowan. "I have some business to attend to. I trust you can watch my boys back in my tent while I'm gone?"

Ana was quite a simple girl, blessed with what could be considered better features for a Frey but with a simple mind she didn't understand all too much. She did well in caring for the babes, though, so Ismene was content with her presence. "Of course, m'lday," the Frey girl replies. Ismene reaches down to scoop Rowan from the bassinet before depositing him in the free arm of her handmaiden that wasn't holding Damon. With a dip of her head, Ana wandered away.

Luckily, Lukas was far to engrossed in his match of swordplay and no one else was around so it was quite easy for her to snatch the sword and disappear into the trees. This time, Fenrir was not with her, most likely being in the company of Luna as he sometimes did. Ismene knew she would be truly alone, vulnerable and open to the world for the first time since she could remember and a part of it thrilled her. Grasping the tresses of her dress as she stepped over wet leaves and fallen branches, she eventually found an open area large enough for her to swing the blade comfortably.

She let out a shaky breath. She'd only held a sword a few times in her life, whether it be holding it for Darik or her father or running her hand along the weapons rack in the courtyard of Winterfell. She pulled away the leather sheath, tossing it to the side as she gazed at the battle worn weapon. The weight was surprising to her and she wondered how anyone could wield something so heavy and not struggle. Nevertheless, she lifted the pommel to her ear, grasping it with both of hands tight enough that her knuckles turned white.

Her heart beat in her ears as she forest was quiet. Her anticipation built until she sliced the blade through the air, the heavy weapon dragging her along with it as she nearly found her face in the dirt. She caught herself after letting out a slight yelp. It didn't discourage, as her muscles tightened and she gripped harder and the second swing wasn't nearly as hard. Sure, the weapon was still heavy, but she knew she'd grow stronger if she ever got to truly wield it.

Her swings continued, some aimed at young trees, which split effortlessly under the cut of the blade. A cold sheen of sweat formed on her skin, the feeling cold on her back. She was already beginning to grow fatigued as she let the tip of the sword dip into the soft earth while she wiped away the sweat from her forehead.

"You've decided to pick up swordplay?"

Ismene swirled around in surprise in fear to find Aubrey standing behind her. The heir, being the hunter she was, was as soft-footed as a doe and quiet a mouse. She was capable of sneaking up on anyone. The woman's breathing evened out as she registered it was merely her friend and she placed both hands on the weapon to steady herself.

"You never seize to frighten me with your lurking," Ismene mutters, her tone not entirely playful as it usually was with her friend. Aubrey seems to notice, her smile fading ever so slightly.

"You're troubled," Aubrey states. "You know you can speak to me about anything. We're family remember? I'm always here for you."

It was truly out of Ismene's character to be brash and hateful, but Aubrey's attempts at being playful merely flared the woman's already touchy anger. Her father's death had only planted bitterness in her heart.

"Yes, I know," she replies shortly, not making eye contact. "Everyone has been telling me that."

Aubrey's features grew still as her blue eyes looked wounded. "You're still grieving, I understand," the Mandal begins, pursing her lips. "I know it's not easy losing a parent. Trust me, you know about my mother. If solitude is what will help you, then I can leave you be..."

Ismene feels a twinge of guilt inside. She didn't want to turn away her friend, but her grief said otherwise and she wished she didn't mourn so deeply for her father. Yet, she couldn't help it. It all was consuming her. "No," she says quickly, stopping Aubrey from wandering away. She sighs. "I am still grieving. Deeply. And that grief has only spurned a desire I've never felt so compelled by..." she looks down at the sword, feeling as if it were calling to her. "I know I'm a noble lady with children, but I want to avenge my father. My family."

Aubrey didn't seem to hold anger. She must have understood, as she was a battle born woman herself and knew what it was like to want to destroy those who threatened she and her own. She closed the distance between them, enveloping Ismene into a sisterly embrace. The two stood together, only Ismene's free hand wrapping around her friend as she still gripped the sword. When they pulled apart, Aubrey smiled.

"I'm here for you, always," she grinned like a fool, as if they'd not had a brief quarrel.

"What brought you to me in such a merry mood?" Ismene asked, entirely curious. She wasn't entirely oblivious to the world while she wallowed in her grief. She'd noticed a distinct difference in her friend and her twin brother, in the ways they walked, talked, and looked. She'd begun to build assumptions.

Aubrey looked away, stammering. Ismene watched as her friend tried finding the right words to explain something of great importance. "If I tell you, will you not breath it to another soul?" Ismene nodded, knowing that Aubrey already knew that she was safe to tell secrets to. Aubrey drew in a deep breath before finally letting it out. "I- I lied with Darik."

Ismene had known it was coming eventually, she just wasn't entirely sure when. They had so much pulling them apart yet they still were finding a way. She found herself feeling a little bit of joy for the first time in days. Aubrey looked terrified that Ismene might be angered, but it was the opposite. She wouldn't breath a word of it, for a noble lady, especially the heir to her house, could compromise any future unions by her maidenhead being taken by a man who wasn't her husband.

"Finally," she grinned slightly and let out an airy laugh. Aubrey's features blossomed into a smile.

"Soon enough, we'll be bound by marriage," Ismene was so sure. Even with their father lost, things were still falling into place and would continue to do so. "And soon after that, bound by blood."

Aubrey grinned widely at the thought before peering up through the canopy of leaves. "Y'know, my mother used to tell me that red stars are a sign of dragons. The comet must mean they are reborn again."

Ismene looked at well, having other thoughts about the thing. The former Stark believed that it more than likely meant something like the host had believed. Dragons seemed like a distant and unrealistic thought to Ismene despite them having existed in the past. Even then, they didn't seem real. She more believed that the comet represented the North's freedom, and the ascension of its King and Queen.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Ismene replies. "Perhaps it's the gods approving of the union that took place last night." Aubrey's expression shifts into a look of numerous disbelief as it begins to form in a grin and she playfully swats Ismene's shoulder, who laughs before continuing. "Don't tell me that you aren't celebrating on your own."

Aubrey shrugs with a bashful grin. "I suppose I might be. You're brother is something special."

Ismene smiles slightly as she let out a sigh. Despite the world seeming to crumble around them, there were still things they could focus on. The union of Aubrey and Darik had been what she needed. "That he is, isn't he."

❆

LAILA quickly became Evolet's every dream and desire as the weeks passed since her sudden birth. Her new bundle of joy was her reason to wake up in the mornings with a smile on her face. It would normally start with the morning light waking Evolet, for Laila was a sweet child and often slept through the night. She was an intuitive babe as well, with bright blue eyes that would follow Evolet wherever she went. It was true that the child was Robb, through and through, and merely the the face of the man who avoided her was painful.

"You are so beautiful, my love," Evolet cooed down at Laila as she walked down the hall. The little girl flashed a tiny gummy grin that Evolet believed to be the most adorable thing she'd ever seen.

She was making her way toward the common room, where she knew Bran and Rickon would most likely be, to spend some time with the boys who had all but lost their family to war. She had decided she would step up and provide the love they needed.

Just as she entered the room, Rickon came leaping toward her. Bran sat propped up in a chair while Osha, the Wildling servant who had been serving in Winterfell since Evolet arrived, was placing wood pieces on top of the embers in the fire place.

"Evlet!" The little copper haired boy cried happily as he looked up to her with wide excited eyes. "You came to play with me. Osha has been playing the with me. Will Laila play too?"

Evolet hummed happily as she maneuvered her way toward one of the chairs by the fire place where Bran was sitting with Rickon following close behind. As she gently took a seat, she positioned Laila so that Bran and Rickon could see her.

"I don't believe our little Laila is old enough to play," Evolet frowns. "But I'm sure we could do something soon. I could lie her down to rest."

Rickon jumps with excitement. "Yay! We can find a fox. You know all about foxes."

Evolet chuckles at his enthusiasm. "I suppose I do." Her eyes drift away from Laila before she looks to Bran. He looks sad and lethargic, a mere shell of who he once was. She wants to do anything she can make him feel better. "Maybe you could join us, Bran?"

Bran doesn't meet her gaze as he shakes his head ever slightly. "I can't do anything," he mumbles.

"Of course you can," she encourages. "I'll call for Hodor and we can go where ever you like. I'm sure even a ride could be an option, I've heard you have a special saddle."

Bran shakes his head once again.

"He doesn't like to do anything fun," Rickon pouts. "No fun."

Bran looks as if he might snap at his younger but Osha speaks up. Evolet was slightly surprised considering the Wildling woman didn't speak much.

"If it's pleases m'lady, I'll watch the babe while you play with the little lords," she suggests in her brash tone. It was harsh like a mans, but it wasn't entirely feminine either.

Evolet was a little weary over the thought of letting the woman watch over her child, for she'd been informed about the incident with Bran in the past, when she and a small group of Wildlings had tried stealing his horse. With it in the past, she'd also noticed how the woman had cared for Rickon and Bran, which gave her a little ease.

"Yes," Evolet smiled slightly. "That would very appreciated."

Soon enough, Evolet was leading Rickon and Hodor, who was carrying Bran, into the courtyard. It was crisp day with plenty of snow built up on the ground, for the summer snows seemed to be staying longer and longer. It was the perfect opportunity to play in the snow.

"Well," Evolet began as she stopped. When she looked passed the three, she noticed Shaggydog, Greywind, and Summer watching with intuitive gazes. Normally the site of such large beasts would be startling to her, but it was actually quite the opposite. "Since there isn't much for us to do at the moment, we'll use this plentiful snow to our advantage."

She reached down and dipped her hand into the cold substance as she gathered enough to form a solid ball. Rickon seemed to understand, as he too gathered little lumps to lob at her. Hodor was kind enough to hand snow to Bran, who seemed to gain some life back once he realized he could participate in the fun.

The throwing of snow commenced, with Evolet lightly throwing snow balls at the happily screeching Rickon and Bran emitting laughs for the first time in a while. Evolet felt her heart soaring at the site of the boys laughing so happily, looking as if their lives hadn't changed a bit since the marriage between their oldest sister and Evolet's brother. Before the pivotal event, everyone's lives seemed to be at a steady calm. The same couldn't be said for the current state.

Amid the happy laughing and throwing of snow, Evolet thought she couldn't reach at happier moment. It all came crashing down when she spotted Robb, who was making his way toward her from the keep. Rickon and Bran has commenced their on private match, with Hodor helping along. The three began to slowly pull away from Evolet as she flattened her dress and prepared for whatever her former lover had to say.

"What might the occasion be?" She asks with pursed lips as Robb stopped in front of her.

He didn't hold the same arrogant or reserved attitude as normal. Instead, a sense of dread seemed to have settled over him and it was wafting it's way toward Evolet. He lifted a piece of parchment up, it bearing the broken seal of the Starks, meaning it was from Darik.

"Just when we thought the war was over," he utters in a hoarse tone that causes Evolet to make a double take before she takes it from him and begins to read. "Something else befalls us."

As her eyes scanned the scribbled words, she felt her heart sink. Eddard was dead and the news was most likely days old by now. She could tell that Darik had hastily written the letter before shipping it back home to them all. She looked back to Robb, who looks as if he were going to crack under the weight of reality that was boring on him.

"I'm so sorry," She says softly, putting aside their differences to offer solace from the horrible news that came swiftly on black wings. "Truly."

Robb shakes his head as if he doesn't need to words of condolence. "Bran will be easier to tell than Rickon," he sucks in a breath. "He listens to you, more than anyone nowadays. Can I entrust you with such a thing?"

Evolet looks away from him, seeing the small boy jumping around and smiling a grin so wide his cheeks had to ache. She would hate herself for tearing such a happiness away from a boy so young, but she knew he needed to know. She nods her head when she turns back towards Robb.

"Of course," she murmurs. When she looks at him, his blue eyes are trained on the boys in the way hers had. He understands that their little strand of happiness is about to be torn away.

With a heavy sigh, Evolet makes her way toward the boys. She feels each step is heavy and she knows what she is about to tell Rickon will change the boys life.

"Rickon, dear," she speaks up, pausing the snow ball fight monetarily. "Will you come here, please?"

She watches as the little boy scurries over, a smile still plastered on his innocent features. Her heart clenches.

"There is something I need to tell you," she says softly. She takes his little hand, which is cold, into hers as she begins to lead him toward the keep. "Come along."