┏━ tribulation.
( SCENE 4 ) ━┛

LUKAS had never seen the Twins before. He'd never been so far south to and he had expected for it to be a beautiful keep that lived up to the stories that were told, but instead he found it to be as ugly as those who lived in it. Standing next to Ismene and Darik, Lukas watched as Aubrey's arrow tip followed a raven that was heading in their direction. The other lord's in attendance watched as the Mandal heir released her arrow where it plunged into the bird. The raven landed just a little ways down the hill.

She wanders forward to collect the raven, picking up the limp body and pulling the little wrapped message from its leg. She gives it a quick read before handing it off to Darik.

"It's a birthday message to his grand-niece Walda," Darik mutters in contempt after reading it. He crumbles it in his gloved hand.

"Or so Walder Frey would have you think," Theon says doubtfully.

"Keep shooting them down, Aubrey, we can't risk Lord Walder sending word of our movements to the Lannisters," Darik orders. She gives a nod and turns to watch for more ravens, notching an arrow to be ready.

Lukas turns to Darik, thinking that their time was running short the longer they stayed idle. "We need to cross...and we need to do it soon. The longer we wait, the less time that your lord father and sisters have."

"I'm aware," Darik replies rather lowly, not even giving the heir a glance.

"But will Lord Frey even let us cross?" One of the lords ask.

"He's my grandfather's bannerman," Ismene says. "Can we not expect Lord Walder's support?"

"Expect nothing of Walder Frey and you'll never be surprised," Lord Umber tells Ismene and she frowns slightly. "You are not his grandchildren by blood. The Frey's could easily reject us."

Lord Henrik nodded in agreement. "The man's nothing but filth. He'll warm up to you, call you his greatest friend, and when he's done with you he'll slit your throat and throw your corpse into the Green Fork."

"Sometimes a slit throat doesn't look half as bad when dealing with Late Lord Frey," mutters Lord Gareth.

"Lord Stark," Aubrey says, gaining their attention. They turn to face the blue eyed archer, only to find her gaze set on two approaching riders that carry Frey banners.  An ominous feeling settled over Lukas as the riders grow closer.

"Father rots in a dungeon. How long before they take his head?" Ismene speaks up with a tone of worry, turning on her brother.

Darik glances to her and Lukas thinks he looks as if he's aged years since the war started. "This is why we need to cross."

"Aye, we need to do it now," Ismene replied with urgency.

"You're sure you still want to negotiate with this child raper?" Aubrey asks with uncertainty in her tone. Lukas can understand what she was saying, as if was known Walder fool wives that were young enough to be his great grandchildren. It was a truly sickening to him.

"Just march up to the gates and tell him you're crossing," Theon states as if it's the easiest thing in the world. "We've got five times his numbers. You can take the Twins if you have to."

Lukas sees Darik shoot the ward a pointed look. "I will not waste my time sending my men into a battle with the likes of Walder Frey. Our fight is not with him. Tywin Lannister marches north as we speak."

"The Freys have held the crossing for 600 years, and for 600 years they have never failed to exact their toll," Catelyn tells her son ominously.

After a moment, Darik turns to face Theon. "Have my horse saddled and ready."

"I'll go with you," Ismene instantly volunteers, receiving a pointed look in return.

"No," Darik tells him, "You need to stay here."

Ismene looks irked, while Lord Umber turns to face Darik with a surprised expression. "Enter the Twins alone and he'll sell you to the Lannisters as he likes!"

Lukas thought Darik going himself was the worst idea possible. Even if he still held a distaste toward his liege, he didn't want to see him slaughtered by the craven Frey's.

"Or throw you in a dungeon. Or slit your throat," Ismene adds. She shakes her head toward him, eyes pleading with him. "Don't go alone."

"At least take some men with you, Darik," Lukas tells him as the Frey riders continue to approach.

"My father would do whatever it took to secure our crossing. Whatever it took." Darik turns to his mother, who is staring worriedly toward the two Frey riders. "If I'm going to lead an army, I can't have other men doing my bargaining for me."

"I agree," Catelyn tells him. After a brief pause, she adds, "I'll go."

Darik responds with a shake of his head. "Mother, no."

"I have known Lord Walder since I was a girl. He would never harm me," Catelyn inisted.

"Unless there was a profit in it..."

They all take a moment to glance at each other. Lukas' eyes meet Ismene's and he can only imagine the toll that would taken on Ismene if Catelyn were taken prisoner as well.

"I'm not comfortable risking that," Ismene voices, her worried brown eyes darting between her mother, brother, and husband.

"Neither am I," Darik agrees just as the Frey riders have reached them.

❆

THE wait for her step-mother to return seemed like ages. Ismene was left worried, worried that she wouldn't see Catelyn again as she didn't expect to see her father. He seemed so far away and the thought of her step-mother falling victim to cravens only worried her heart more. Even as Mandal archers watched the keep and riders were ready to be sent off at a whims notice, she felt uneasy.

The lord's and those alike had stayed together, waiting on the return of Lady Catelyn. Ismene leaned against Lukas as he had an armed wrapped around. When her wandering brown eyes caught site of her mothers returning, she perked up and peeled away from Lukas. It caught the attention of the other lord's, as they all turned as well.

As Catelyn dismounted and made her way over, Darik met her.

"Well? What did he say?" The heir with hope. Ismene knew there wasn't a reason to be hopeful, as she knew Walder was a greedy old man. There was no way they wouldn't pay a hefty price for crossing.

"Lord Walder has granted your crossing," Catelyn reveals, causing many relieved smiles to break out on their faces. "His men are yours as well, less the 400 he will keep here to hold the crossing against any who would pursue you."

Darik nodded, obviously anxious to know how much he was in debt to the lord. "And what does he want in return?"

"You will be taking on his son Olyvar as your personal squire. He expects a knighthood in good time for him. Ismene will also take on one of his daughters as a handmaiden."

Ismene was slightly pleased to see there would be extra help with Damon, Rowan. In a raven they received from Winterfell, the birth of Evolet's daughter had been announced. "Fine, fine," Darik says.

There is a brief pause, and during it, Catelyn wears an irked expression on her face, indicating there's more to the bargain.

Darik raises an brow. "And?"

Clearly irritated, Catelyn says, "And Arya will marry his son Waldron when they both come of age."

"She won't be happy about that," Ismene comments with a smirk. She can already picture the shocked expression on Arya's face. The girl was like her dear friend Aubrey and didn't favour being a lady, more favouring the life of a man in battle.

"Definitely not," Darik agrees, sharing a quick glance with his twin.

Catelyn nodded in agreement, but still looks irked, indicating that there is still more to the bargain.

"And?" Darik asks again and soon Ismene's heart drops.

"And when the fighting is done," Catelyn grimaces. "You will marry a daughter of his, any of your choosing he said."

Ismene's dark eyes dart toward Darik, who's expression became stone-like. Darik's attraction toward Aubrey was known by plenty and the union never occurring was almost impossible to accept. She felt a seed of sorrow forming in her heart for her brother.

Silence held in the air as Darik seemed as if he were making the hardest decision in his life. He pursed his lips before finally nodding, reluctantly. Darik's eyes find hers and Ismene is thankful that he is forcing it. "Very well then. Tell Lord Walder I accept his bargain."

When Catelyn bites her lip, Ismene knows there is still more. There's always more. 

"There is more, isn't there?" Darik utters.

"I'm afraid so." Her Tully blue eyes land on Ismene and Lukas. "His last request is for Damon to wed one of his daughters when he becomes of age."

"My son, marrying a Frey?" Lukas speaks up in outrage, his features twisted in disgust, not seeming to care what the other lord's thought. "No, my son will marry a northern born, not one of those broods! That place is a simply a rats nest named rightfully, not fit for the likes of a fox or any other house."

As much as Ismene wanted to agree with him, she knew there wasn't much they could do. She damned whatever the Gods were doing for already and betrothing her son who wasn't even a moon old, the heir that would one day run Lakewell himself.

"You'd be wise in accepting the offer," Henrik spoke up, his voice slightly scolding to his son even though it was apparent he didn't like the idea either. The lord's looked to him, his icy grey eyes focused on Lukas. "If you wish to see Lord Darik victorious in this war and our guaranteed safety from the Lannisters, then I suggest you accept these terms."

Lukas was fuming, but Ismene turned to him, placing a hand on his arm.

"My dear," she says softly, not entirely feeling the words she was going to say were right. "We need to go through with this. Darik needs this. We need this. My father is a prisoner right now. Damon is not even a moon old. We have plenty of time to sort it out."

Lukas was still angered, but it seemed only Ismene's words would calm him. He lets out a heavy sigh before looking to the ground, his fists clenching.

"I suppose so," he mutters under his breath.

Ismene then looks to Darik and nods. She does truly feel the pain inside, but she was willing to give up whatever it took to help Darik. He gave her a sad look, one she knew said I'm sorry.

He then turns to their mother, clearing his throat. "Tell Lord Walder we accept," he utters, sealing the fate of many, including himself.