┏━ tribulation.
( SCENE 19 ) ━┛

NORMALLY, a feast in honor of the king was supposed to be lighthearted and joyful, with merry singing and drinking and dancing. Ismene didn't feel such way, not while sitting in a very similar place she had when she and Lukas had been wed but two moons ago. She'd dismissed Terran to enjoy himself while they were home, leaving her alone with only her companion. Even as she rubbed Fenrir's scruffy head as he sat at her side, she couldn't bring herself to join in. It seemed she could never enjoy feasts, not when they always seemed to happen after she faced Darik.

Not far from the Stark girl was the Queen, who seemed to not want to take any part in the festivities as she sipped at her wine, most likely the third of fourth for the night. Ismene could tell how unhappy the woman was and she could only wonder what there was to be sad about when you were queen. She didn't know, but she had growing suspicions when she spotted the King enjoying himself down in the crowd, surrounded by his men who howled with laughter while the fat man groped a kitchen winch. Ismene sneered, thanking the Gods that she'd been blessed with such a husband as Lukas.

Her said husband was off acting lordly, talking to her father and those lord's alike as he was acting as the head of their house on the visit, a test Ismene's good-father Lord Henrik had set for Lukas to see if he could handle such events without the help of his parents. She counted herself lucky that Lady Helen hadn't come. Ismene didn't want to see the horrible glares the woman directed toward her mother, nor could she ever forget what Evolet had told her about her father and Helen.

At the thought of Evolet, Ismene's brown eyes scan the sea of dancers to find Evolet being spun around by none other than Robb. Ismene felt her heart warmed at the genuinely happy expression that covered Evolet's face as she danced with the Stark boy. She must have felt free to act as she pleased, especially since her lady mother wasn't there to scold her for even looking Robb's way. Ismene decided she wouldn't interfere on them during their stay, hoping it would do good for Evolet. She could only hope there was going to be a happy ending for them.

An approaching figure has her turning to see her step-mother's familiar Tully blue eyes softening as she got closer. Catelyn took a seat in the empty chair next to Ismene.

"You are looking well, dear," Catelyn purred warmly as she looked her eldest daughter up and down. "How has Lakewell faired you?"

Ismene shrugs. She did love her new home, but nothing would ever truly feel like home like Winterfell did. Lakewell only felt so when she was in Lukas' arms.

"I quite like it," she tells her step-mother. "It's high up in the hills and over looks all of Long Lake. I couldn't ask for a better view from our room."

"So I assume you and Lukas have... grown close?"

Ismene felt uncomfortable with her step-mother asking such liberal questions, but she knew there was good intent. She only wanted to ensure everything ran the way it was supposed to.

"Yes, things have been well."

"Well, my sweet, you are feeling well? I overheard that you had a bout of sickness once the King finally wandered to the crypts. Might there be a reason that you feel as such?"

Ismene understood what she was asking, and quite directly so: are you with child?

It was true, she had had an episode just a little while after retreating inside. Lukas had helped her so gently, holding her hair back as she ruthlessly unleashed the contents of her stomach into an empty bucket Terran found. It was utterly embarrassing, vomiting in front of her husband and guard, but the both of them assured her that everything was alright.

"Yes," Ismene finally admitted. "I am with child."

Catelyn's Tully blue eyes lit up with joy as her thin lips pulled into an ever pleased smirk. She leaned forward and planted a familiar and motherly kiss on Ismene's forehead.

"Well then, I shall tell your father. He'll announce it for you, if you'd like?"

She had to admit that she didn't want to do so in front of the entire room, especially not the king and queen and all the lord's present. So she nodded her head and allowed her mother to giddily slip away to find her father.

The Estemore girl sighed, subconsciously putting her hand to her belly. Once she realized she had, she found it so strange that she was already beginning to feel a difference in her girth. It wasn't natural, as far as she was aware, for it to be so noticeable so soon. Her mind was left swirling up until the point that her father rose his voice up high above the ruckus.

"My lords, ladies!" Eddard spoke up with an excited expression painted on his face as the big room quieted. "As you all may know, my eldest daughter has married and is now an Estemore. I am pleased to announce that the marriage has been fruitful and I am expecting a grandchild."

Cheering and applause erupted as all eyes trained on her. She felt smaller than ever as it seemed the world was focused on her but a reassuring lick to the hand from Fenrir helped her feel like she wasn't alone. Wherever Lukas was in the sea of spectators, she knew he was grinning like a fool.

"Ismene, how dare you keep such news from me!" Aubrey appeared with an excited cry, smiling happily. Ismene stood to meet her in an embrace. Even though the news was supposed to be one of the best moments in her life, she wasn't very happy in the moment. "I'm so happy for you," she told her friend while parting.

"Thank you. I must admit that it was quite unexpected, but a true blessing all the same," Ismene said, though her eyes were not on Aubrey. Instead, they were looking past her and towards the entrance of the hall. Standing rigid as a stone wall was Darik, the anger that was beginning to become normal apparent on his features. He then turned and fled.

Ismene rose up from the bench she was sitting on and gave her sister's hand a squeeze, an apologetic expression painted on her face. "Please excuse me."

Aubrey understood, as she always did, as Ismene got to her feet and quickly made her way after Darik.

❆

ISMENE marched toward the Godswood with all the diligence that her short legs could muster. Darik had quickly stormed from the hall as soon as her pregnancy had been announced and it had been what she'd was preparing for. She knew he'd be upset and his fleeing was no exception.

It seemed if her twin had the speed of a wolf as she chased after him through the dark. Her boots crunched on the fresh snow that fell that night yet Fenrir seemed to move silently as they walked side by side. She only managed to catch up to him underneath the Weirwood, it's carved face gazing knowingly.

She felt herself to be in a similar situation again, chasing after Darik after a feast he'd stormed from. This time, though, she felt as if there might not be anything to save. She was unsure and felt weariness take root in her heart. Just ahead, he was seated on the stone bench under the tree, where they might have shared secrets together in a better time of their life.

She stalked up, not even making the effort to shield any of her anger. She was seething inside, wounded from how he'd been toward her for over a moon now. He never answered any of her letters, never said goodbye. By the Gods, he'd been forced to say hello.

"Why must you do this to me?" She snarls, not even hesitating. "You push and push me away but somehow I come back yet you still want me gone?"

Luckily, Luna and Fenrir had disappeared off into the darkness, leaving the twins to settle their differences in the sight of the Old. She glowered over him, where he looked up to her with defensive grey eyes. His gaze soon morphed into a scowl as he looked back to the snow covered ground.

"It's not as if you'd ever understand," he mutters lowly. The snow was falling heavily now, gathering on both of their shoulders and hair in little white fluffy piles.

"Understand?" She scoffed. "The only I seem to understand is how you so easily abandoned me in a situation that was out of my control."

"A situation you could have fought you're way out of," Darik retorted, his words like the ice that clung to the bench he sat on. "Shall we not forget the time you shimmied your way out of a betrothal with Domeric Bolton? Because you simply 'didn't like House Bolton's sigil'."

Ismene glares down on him. "We were but children when they visited and it was simply a punch to the face," she growled lowly in defense of her young, spirited self. "That was well before father even discussed anything with Henrik Estemore. I've matured since then and I would have hoped you'd do the same."

Darik didn't seem convinced whatsoever, so he let out a heavy sigh.

"Do you not see how this pains me?" Darik finally mutters, seeming to be breaking down piece by piece. "Do you think I wanted to resent you for so long? You are my other half and I don't much care for sharing you with some stranger who doesn't really care about you."

Her heart was softened by his first words, which helped in her gentler defense of Lukas.

"Lukas had done nothing but be kind to me," she tells him. "He's gentle, compassionate, caring. I don't think father could have picked someone better. I think Lady Estemore has a much better sound to it, far better than Lady Bolton don't you think? I must confess, Darik, that I'm beginning to love him. This child I carry if proof of it."

Darik's expression softened as he rose to his feet, ever so slightly getting close to her. "I hate feeling so far from you even though you're standing right in front of me."

At the first sight of a tear rolling down her brothers still face, Ismene crumbled like an ancient and decrepit wall. She feels demanding emotion take over her body, her eyes well with hot tears and her head begins to ache she sobs uncontrollably in her brothers arms. It is both a display of relief, to finally mend what they'd broken, and a release of pain. The pain she'd been holding onto was finally falling away. The weight lifted.

"We came into this world together, Ismene," Darik utters softy as he too is weeping. "I'll be damned if we don't stay that way while we're still here."