┏━ tribulation.
( SCENE 11 ) ━┛

EVOLET had never been close to running for her life and she could surely vouch that the experience was a harsh one, yet her fear of the Ironborn and what they would do to those she loved outweighed the frigid wind and her burning lungs. She may have been able to deal with freezing toes and fingers and the ever present burning of her eyes if not for her toddler and her two young nephews, whom she and the others were struggling to get away from Winterfell. With every step they'd taken as they ran, Evolet began to worry that exposure and hunger would become a greater worry than the Ironborn if they stayed in the countryside for too long. Though, it wouldn't take the Ironborn long to learn of their escape.

Soon enough, the group stumbled upon a farm. Evolet hoped it were a sign they could seek refuge, but she wasn't sure how far they'd gotten from Winterfell or if they needed to continue fleeing. Her arms were screaming in exhaustion after having run with Laila in her arms for so long. She turns to Osha, who is kind enough to take the small toddler in her arms. Once free, Evolet rubs the soreness in her arms with a grimace.

"What now?" Osha speaks up. "Do we hide? Keep going?"

Robb is quiet as he looks around, surveying the area to try and conjure a plan before ultimately turning towards the others. He looks defeated, his wind-burned cheeks blossoming a shade of pink.

"I think we should double back," he mutters as they wind batters them.

"Double back?" Evolet echos in disbelief.

"Are you mad?" Osha sputters as she turns to shield Laila from the wind. "Double back so we can just return to their grasp? We're surely dead if any of Theon's savages get a hold of us."

"Once Theon learns of our escape, we'll surely be hunted like dogs," Robb explained to Osha. "I have no sword. And even if I did, you and I are the only two who have any chance of defending us all. Not only that, but we have Bran, who can't even walk. Rickon, who is to young to understand what's going on. And Laila, who's all but a babe. We have no chance of fighting back with these odds. Not without food or shelter."

Evolet notices how helpless Robb looks and it grips her heart. She wondered if he felt as such for being unable to defend them as he had promised in the passed. She could only image how he felt.

"Robb's right," Evolet agrees. "We'll double back. If we don't, we'll starve or freeze. Our best hope is sneaking back into the keep."

Osha looks between them with a scowl, but ultimately concedes with the plans of returning to Winterfell.

"Either way, we're dead. I'd much rather the cold take me than one of them Ironborn," Osha mutters before taking Rickon's hand and setting off toward the direction they'd came, Hodor following close behind with Bran in his arms.

Evolet looks to Robb in their brief moment of privacy and sees the defeat still present in his features. She wanders closer to offer some comfort as she wraps her arms around him, nuzzling her head into his neck.

"I know you're scared. I am too. But we've got to keep going," she reassures him with what little bit of hope and bravery she has, even though she's trying her best to reassure herself as well. "Darik and Lukas will send someone back for us. They won't let Winterfell stay in Theon's hands."

"Of course," Robb weakly agrees. "We'll just keep going."

❆

A member of the Lannister family had found himself unlucky enough to be sent directly to King Darik, whom was surrounded by his rallies lords in the war tent in the middle of the northern army's forces camped in the Westerlands. The King's Hand hoped that the arrival of their enemy's ambassador would bring some sort of shift in the tides the war they'd been seemingly fighting for ages, but the forces under King Darik's command could only hope. It was Alton Lannister, Lukas soon learned, who was the unlucky one sent there to inform them of Cersei's terms, that which Lukas did not expect to go in their favor. And of course, they didn't.

"You mean to tell me," Darik muttered from where he stood, his arms propped on the table as if he were ready to leap forward. The Queen stood close, she herself looking ready to shred the Lannister apart just with her gaze. "She wants me to surrender myself and my entire army to her bastard son-of-king?" He chuckled slightly as he stood up straight, crossing his arms. "Am I to believe she won't have my sisters and wife slaughtered before me, just before she does away with me as well? That's quite humorous."

"Uh— Y-yes, M'lord," Alton replies nervously. His disrespect toward the king earns a quick and aggressive yank of his hair by Lord Henrik, who does not relent as he pulls the young man's head back.

"Perhaps you'd address a king by his rightful title, hmm?" He yanked even more aggressively. "King Darik is a gracious king, but he does not pay kindly to those who might mock him."

"Send back his head to Cersei," Lord Bolton suggested plainly. "Perhaps it would send a clear message."

"That's not wise," Lord Henrik countered. "We may just find ourselves sent the heads of Arya and Sansa if we were to retaliate in such a way. We can risk giving the demented boy and his mother any ideas."

"See to it he's locked away with his cousin," Darik sighed annoyance. "I've not the time for Cersei's games. We've got a war to win and I'd prefer it sooner rather than later."

With that, Darik turned and left the tent, the Queen following close behind. Lukas gestures towards some of the lords, whom look eager to take away the Lannister.

"Lock him away with the kingslayer," Lukas ordered. He watched the other lords obey, pulling away the Lannister until they disappeared. Lukas rubbed the nape of his neck as a brooding visage manifested on his face, contemplating how many more times he would have to congregate in this tent before the war would finally be over.

"Lord Estemore?" A silvery voice spoke.

He turns to see the healer Talisa. She offers a kind smile, one that always seemed to remind him of Ismene.

"Please, Lukas is just fine," he tells her as he wanders closer. "What can I do for you?"

"I require some medicinal supplies that I can only acquire from a Maester," she tells him. "I was hoping you might speak with the king about possibly acquiring such things."

"What is it you need?" Lukas asks out of curiosity.

"Oh— just, simple herbs to ease ones mind," Talisa replied, but Lukas had the slightest notion that she wasn't telling the entire truth. Nevertheless, he was too tired to drone on further.

"Of course, I'll speak with Darik," Lukas tells her. "But, I would like to request something of you as well."

"Of course, whatever you may need," Talisa agrees kindly.

"My wife— the Lady Ismene," Lukas sighs. He hates even dwelling on the thought of how unwell she was, yet he hoped Talisa might help her at least in the slightest. "She is quite unwell ever since her brothers passed. Is there an herb that might be able to help her?"

Talisa frowns. "I'm sure there is something I could acquire from a Maester," she says. "I'll do what I can."

"Thank you," Lukas smiled weakly.