┏━ tribulation.
( SCENE 5 ) ━┛

IN the foggy distance, the colossal, shadowy Keep known as Winterfell loomed ominously, as if it were waiting patiently to receive the Estemore's. The air was thick with cool humidity and with each breath that Lukas drew, it seemed to weigh him down where he sat in his saddle. At his side, his father rode, his icy gaze narrowed toward the rolling distance before them. They were emerging from the eastern forest that bordered Winterfell, leaving them to cross the open, grassy hills. Behind the lord and his heir a company of guardsman followed with a small carriage house that contained their lady mother, Helen. In the air, the silver fox of House Estemore was proudly raised on a blue banner.

On Lukas' other side, his younger sister Evolet rode with an ever present sneer apparent on her still features. She glared ahead with her mahogany eyes, having the same expression their father held. Lukas looked between them both, cracking a smile in attempts to break up the tension that was obviously heavy in the already thick air. He let out a light chuckle, continuing to look between them both as they continued on toward Winterfell.

"Here I am the one being forced to marry a girl I don't know and I have the company of you two," He jests. His attempt at being playful was to no avail as both of them continued to stare off in the distance. The only response Lukas received was Evolet pulling her furs closer to her face. Rolling his eyes, he looked to his father. "What is it that troubles you?" He more accuses than asks.

Lord Henrik let's out a heavy sigh, his eyes finally looking to his heir. "It has been a long ride, Lukas," he mutters rather sleepily. "Just because you are capable of keeping your vitality does not mean we must as well."

Lukas merely shrugged. He put his reins in one gloved hands before busying himself with cracking his knuckles. "I just find it unfair that I have to come here just to marry her. I don't understand why she couldn't've just traveled to Lakewell and made our lives easier."

At his side, Evolet scoffs. "Of course you would think so," she mutters, shooting a dagger like glare in his direction. "You don't take in account that she is being forced into this as well. She'll be living in Lakewell for the rest of her days so perhaps just her marriage in her home would be reassuring."

Lukas rolls his eyes at his sister. As his side, his father speaks up.

"House Stark is also our leige," Lord Henrik speaks up in his ever domineering tone. It was the same one that Lukas had experienced many scolding's from. "We do as Lord Eddard wishes without question. We are lucky enough that I managed to acquire this betrothal in the first place."

"Why is it that I must be the one to marry the Stark girl?" Lukas mutters. His face stills into an annoyed grimace. He saw it unfair that he was being forced to marry someone he'd only met once, two years prior. He wanted to live his life the way he wanted, and it didn't involve a marriage for a very long time. He was fortunate enough, though, that he had been able to see what his intended looked like. Then he had deemed that the marriage wouldn't be that horrible, since he was being forced to participate in the union. "Why not give Evolet to the heir Darik? Or maybe even the younger one, Robb."

Evolet begins to protest at his blunt statement, but she is quick to quiet. Their father sighs before replying. "Because I have different plans for her. I hear that the heir to Riverrun will need a wife as of soon and I intend on extending another offer."

Lukas, seeing that he wasn't alone in the betrothal madness, glanced to his sister with a frolicsome grin. She sneered at him immediately, adverting her gaze as far away from his as she could.

"Southern bound with an attempt at creating more political ties," Lukas ticks, nodding his head in a false and mocking manner of approval. "Always an ambitious one aren't you, father? Though, I don't fancy our family much for the heat."

Before anything else can be said about the matter of arranged marriages and broken dreams, the sounding of pounding hooves approaching them has their attention fixed ahead. Lukas narrowed his eyes into a squint to see a quickly approaching squad of Stark guardsmen brandishing the Direwolf on their raised grey banners.

Even though he tried his hardest to keep his usual cool composure, Lukas couldn't stop the rapid beating of his heart as he finally realized how real the situation was. He'd been told for years it would happen, but now that it actually was, he wanted nothing more than to turn tail and run home.

"Ah, it looks like our escort has arrived," Lord Henrik half mutters. Lukas, feeling rather intimidated by the thundering of the hooves, purses his lips and shifts nervously in his saddle. Evolet, noticing his sudden transition from his usual state of arrogance, allows a smirk to grace her lips.

The group of guardsmen pull their horses to a stop not far away from the Estemore presage.  "Lord Estemore," one of the men speaks up. "Lord Stark waits patiently for your arrival. If you will, please follow us and we will lead you to the Keep."

Lukas' father merely nods. The heir can feel himself being permanently locked into the betrothal now and it causes an unsettling feeling of dread to fill his heart. The group of Stark guardsmen round their horses around and the presage continues toward the castle.

❆

COMMOTION outside of Ismene's chamber window causes her to draw her attention away from Fenrir. The little Direwolf pup had managed to gain its strength back after she nourished it and she had quickly found a loyal companion in the beast. With a sudden jolt of excitement, she gingerly sets the pup on her bed before running out of her chambers with the door closing behind her.

She sped through the halls, passing servants carrying trays and baskets in anticipation of the arrival of their guests, until she finally came to the door that led to the courtyard. Shoving it open, she ran out to find that they had finally arrived.

The Estemore's were finally within the walls of Winterfell, indicating that her marriage was dawning on the horizon. Riders, wagons, and even a small wheelhouse ushered through the gates and into the courtyard. The grey Estemore fox and salmon dotted the scene before her on banners brandished by guards. Days before, her mother and father had warned her they would be coming and she had spent many restless nights pondering on how it may go. As her eyes scanned the area, she found them landing on a single figure dismounting from his horse.

It was a tall, young man, with deep chocolate hair similar in shade to hers. Though he wasn't looking toward her, his light, greyish-blue eyes were narrowed suspiciously as he gazed around the unfamiliar surroundings. His jaw was clenched and his posture rigid, indicating that he might have been upset or uncomfortable. When his gaze finally did meet hers, she instantly knew that she had met him before.

Her father suddenly appeared behind her in the threshold, placing a kind hand on her back. "Come on, dear," he says optimistically. "Your mother and siblings are already waiting to receive them."

She knows she is incapable of running away from her problems as she wishes to. Nodding submissively, she allows her father to guide her a crossed the courtyard even though everything within her told her to run. Sure, she harbored confusing thoughts about the entire ordeal, about marrying someone she didn't know and finding excitement in it. The other part of her was scared, scared of her soon-to-be husband being a complete psychopath.

Wandering further out into the open, she found that, just as her father had said, her siblings were in fact lined up to formally receive their guests. Darik stood at the head, a very noticeable grimace apparent on his still features. Robb and the others followed in coordination of age until it ended with little Rickon. As Ismene shuffled passed the obvious gaze of her intended, her heart beat uncontrollably. She felt his gaze, including that of his father and the girl he supposed was his sister, burning into her. After finding her place in line, she forced her gaze to the ground.

Behind Lukas, the wheelhouse door was being opened by one of the Estemore guards. Outstepped his mother Lady Helen, her green eyes gazing around with the ever present look of arrogance. She was a haughty woman, and her behavior followed her like a shadow wherever she went. It was often a joke among their family that she was the one that he had inherited his fiery spirit from.

His mother pulled the tresses of her dress at high as possible as she glides forward to find her place at the side of her husband. Once stopped, she still grips her dress tightly in her fist. Lord Eddard and Lady Catelyn step forward with the kindest smiles. Lord Henrik returns it, but Lady Helen simply gives a curt nod. The lower lord and his wife bow before their liege.

"Lord Stark," Henrik greets with a formal tone before taking Lady Catelyn's hand and placing a light kiss on the top of her palm. "It is good to finally see you." Lukas could tell that his father was already upset with the way that his mother was acting. His father turns back to Lord Stark, who is giving the same gesture to his Lady mother.

"It is good to see you as well," Eddard replies with a warm smile. "I believe it has been many, many moons since we last saw each other. I see that your son has also grown into a fine young man." At the mention of him, Lukas looks to their liege Lord with a shy smile and dips his head respectfully. His father glances at him with an agreeing smile as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Indeed," Lady Helen replies with her usual proud tone, not giving her husband the chance to speak. Henrik glances over with an annoyed glare. It was a known thing that, ever since Lady Helen bore a bastard fathered by a house guard, their marriage had dwindled to nothing from what little had existed. The bastard was apart of the Night's Watch now. "Lukas has proved himself to be more than prepared for lordship. Our Evolet has turned into a fine young lady as well."

Eddard lets out a slightly nervous laugh before looking back to Lord Henrik. Lukas knew that his mother's haughty demeanor always bothered people.

"Well, Catelyn and I are more than happy to be hosting your family," Eddard continues. He turns slightly, his gaze suddenly resting on Ismene where she stood between Kaela and Darik. Her cheeks flush with heat as he begins motioning for her to come over. "Come over, my dear," he coaxes, though it does no good at making her feel at ease. She glances to her twin with a terrified look, but Darik only nods for her to go. She then looks to Jon, who was nearby, who offers her a supportive nod. Not feeling any reassurance, she reluctantly makes her way over.

As soon as she stops as her father's side, she can feel the burning gazes of the Estemore's. Lord Henrik is a reserved man, she can already tell, with his wife even more intimidating. The girl, Evolet, doesn't seem to be the same way as she stares at the ground submissively. The only gaze that still has her curious is the one of her intended, Lukas.

Eddard clasps gentle hands on her shoulder. "This is Ismene, our eldest daughter," he presents her as if she are a prized horse. For a moment she feels angry, feeling as if she were property being auctioned off. Only the approving nod of Lady Helen has her feeling a little more hopeful.

"She is a beauty," the older woman comments approvingly, the slightest of smirk appearing on her lips. It was the first time that she hadn't acted haughtly. "She will give us fine grandchildren one day."

Lord Henrik nods his head for Lukas to steps forward. The heir gives his father one glance before finally stepping forward, just feet away from his betrothed. She was much shorter than him, with a stature making her almost look like a child. She had a full body, though, with the slightest hints of curves visible through the opening of her cloak. They met eyes and he offered her a gentle smirk. She returned it, a little more nervously.

"I am Lukas. I believe we have met before," he utters amid the silence that had hung between all of them. He said his name as if she never knew it, but it was proper to formally introduce themselves. He offers her a hand, which she takes in a light shake. "During a dance, a few years ago."

Ismene suddenly understands why she had thought she knew him, or at least seen his face before. They had danced together at her and Darik's eighteenth Name Day celebration just two years before.

"Ismene," she breaths, recalling how he had swung her around so beautifully and treated her as if she were a princess that night. She remembered the flashy smiles and the laughter and it made her heart beat from the wonderful recollection of that night. Even though she would normally be embarrassed to show any affection in front of her family, she didn't care at the moment. "I remember that night very vividly."

They both smile, gazes locked.