┏━ tribulation.
( SCENE 1 ) ━┛

CRISP, cool breeze filtered through the leaves of the trees, creating a rustling chorus throughout the quiet Godswood. The wooded area was shadowy in the early morning, the sound of creatures scurrying about in the undergrowth. It was just after the break of dawn, for the sun hadn't even broken over the walls surrounding Winterfell. Only the servants would usually be up at such an hour, readying the food to break fasts and add wood to fires.

The Godswood was the quietest place to escape in Winterfell, away from the ruckus of the courtyard and the busyness of those who ran the Keep. Any could come and uplift their prayers and hopes to the Old Gods, the ones who were countless and nameless unlike the Seven Gods that were worshipped in the south. Northerners have always kept to tradition; even when the Andals invaded centuries ago, the North wouldn't be forced to give up her way of life.

On that particular morning, what little snow had accumulated on the ground was crunchy, meaning it would stick throughout the day unlike the normal fluff that fell and melted soon after. With every step that she took, it crunched under her boots. In a way it pleased her, for if anyone tried sneaking their way up she'd know. Ismene is quite shy when it comes to her prayers. She has always been privy to send up every hope and fear to the Old Gods and she would find herself red in the face if anyone heard some of her dreams.

Finally reaching the small pool under the crimson leaved weirtree, which was coated on the surface with fallen leaves, she brushed away the accumulated snow from the stone bench that was just a few paces away from the face of the ancient tree. It was a common thing for summer snows to fall in the nights, only to be melted away by the time the sun had reached its zenith each day. As she got to her knees and rested her elbows on the bench, she clasped her hands together where they hovered just over her lips.

Her words stayed on her tongue for a moment as hesitation filled her thoughts. There was much she wanted to pray about: the constant feeling of uneasiness that enveloped her each day, the wish for something exciting and new to happen in her life, the end of the horrible nightmares that plagued more of her nights than she'd willing to admit. She closed her brown eyes and let out a heavy sigh.

"I-I need rest. I need answers," she mumbled to herself and to the innumerable Gods that she was praying to. "This life I live... it feels incomplete. I don't know what is next and while I'm scared to know, I'm also ready to change something in my journey. I'm already well past the age to be wed... what is it you have in store for me? Am I ready for whatever that might be?"

She sighed once more, opening her eyes to look up at the carved face, which had been put there by the Children thousands of years before. Crimson sap always trailed eerily down from the face's eyes like tears. The sun had broken over the walls by now, the light filtering through the leaves and casting onto the white trunk of the tree. She frowns, continuing her prayer with her eyes open.

"I wish to know why you continue to plague my dreams with her," she continues, now her tone slightly different. "You plague me with this faceless woman, one you tell me is my mother, yet I've never seen anything but a statue in the crypts? Why only me, and not Darik? She was his mother too."

As expected, the tree only continued to stare at her. Her brow furrows and she scoffs in frustration. She felt like a fool for thinking it might magically answer her then and there.

"If these dreams are a way of torturing me, then it is doing its job," she grumbled. She forced herself to her feet, angry with the prayer session that was supposed to bring relief to her after a night of restless sleep. She turns to stalk away, but is suddenly jolted with fear when she spots Jon standing just a few feet away. He looks startled, maybe even embarrassed that she spotted him.

"I didn't mean to bother your prayer," he says immediately, dark eyes focused on her. "Truly. I just saw you leave your chambers when I was returning to mine this morning."

Ismene could never be mad at Jon, for of all her half siblings, he was easily her favorite. He might have been a bastard, but he was raised alongside her all the same and she would defend him tooth and nail. Of them all, he was the kindest. Her expression softens and she shakes her head.

"Nonsense, you didn't," she states, then rolls her eyes. "It's not as if the Gods really listen to me anyways. Sometimes it's as if I'm just speaking to a tree. I thought making a desperate plea might earn me some help."

Jon frowns in the melancholic way he always did. "It was the dreams again, huh? About your mother."

A grimace forms on her features and she nods. Jon and Darik had always been very good at understanding what she was thinking or going through and she sometimes resented it. Others, she was pleased to have brothers who care for her well being. She spoken to Jon about the dreams in particular because she didn't want to worry Darik about her dreams of their long dead mother.

"Yes. They haven't relented and in the last fortnight, they've but gotten worse," she tells him.

"I understand," he replies with a nod of his head. "I've had similar ones, but never anything like you have. Have you tried talking to Maester Luwin about it? Perhaps he has some remedy that'll help you sleep deeply."

Ismene shrugs, thinking that there was no way she would really get away from her dreams. It seemed she was cursed to bare the weight all her days. If she were going to be fated with such a burden, she wished she could at least see her mother's face. Just once.

"I can speak to him," she says. "I'll find a solution, one way or another. How about we go inside now? I'm sure everyone's up to break fasts."

Jon nods with a slight smile. "Of course, lets go."

Birds begin their morning songs as the two start to leave the Godswood, the crimson soaked eyes of the face watching them as they leave.

                                                                                          ❆

THE presence of her siblings always made a sour morning turn for the better, as long as everyone was in a fair mood. Luckily, they were, Sansa quietly picking at her food while Bran and Arya fussed over something unimportant as they always did. Rickon was being far too occupied playing with a wooden wolf that had been crafted and gifted to him by Darik, leaving Ismene and Jon to converse together once more.

Ismene picked at what was left of her boiled ducks egg, never her favorite choice of dish yet she wouldn't complain. Jon has finished his meal quickly as all the older boys tended to do. He was always in a brighter mood when Ismene's mother wasn't around. She always found it odd how Catelyn could love she and Darik as her own, but not Jon, who was their fathers son and motherless as well. It was one of the qualities about her adoptive mother that she didn't care for.

"I wonder if Darik finally downed his first buck this morning," Jon says to Ismene after taking a drink of his water. He smacked his lips before setting the cup down. "He's been determined for so long."

"I would say he's more skilled with steel than arrows," Ismene replies before taking a bite from her boiled duck egg. "All three of you boys seem to be better with it. But perhaps he got lucky this morning."

Jon shrugged. "I suppose so. But if he comes back with one, we ought to expect him to be in a haughty mood."

"When is he not?" Sansa laughs, most likely having honed in on their conversation. "It's Darik, there isn't much else to expect. Girls don't find arrogance attractive. Finding a wife for him might be hard."

As if on cue, Robb and Darik entered the room. Darik walked with the utmost confidence, confirming that the morning had indeed been fruitful. The heir plopped himself next to Jon at the end of the table and patted his shoulder in greeting.

"Morning," he greeted as he began to assemble his meal from the platters lied out on the table.

"What're you smirking about?" asked Ismene, already knowing the answer.

Darik looked to her and shook his head, a smile breaking out onto his face. "Our little siblings are being troublemakers again."

Jon snorted. "What else is new."

"How was the hunt?" Arya inquired, her attention turned toward them now.

Darik starts grinning. "It went well. I managed to get my first buck - Father is having it prepped for tonight's supper."

"That's splendid news, Darik! I'm so proud of you. See you all, I had a good feeling about this morning. It's about time you've managed to get a buck," Ismene praised.

"I must agree that it had taken me far too long," her twin replied.

"Perhaps now you can boast to Lady Aubrey of your achievements. I dare say she'll be quite pleased," Jon smirked as he brought his chalice of water to his lips.

Ismene rested her elbow against the table and placed her chin in the palm of her hand. "Lighten up dear brother, we wouldn't be siblings if we did not tease one another, now would we?"

Darik merely shook his head. "Awful, every one of you." He reached for his chalice and filled it with some water from the pitcher on the table.

"I must say that he's lucky," Robb commented from his seat next to Sansa, a dangerous grin apparent on his lips as he looked to Darik. "You're lucky the arrow landed where it did. Just a few inches higher and it would've breezed right over that buck's back."

"Oh, you hush now," Jon lightly scolds. "All that matters is that he did it. I haven't seen you bring anything but a scrawny doe in."

Her jab earns the laughter of all her siblings and the red faced glare of Robb. As they settle down, Ismene rises and steps over the bench.

"Sansa, we should get to Septa Mordane. You know how she gets when she has to wait on us." She looked to Arya, who had barely touched her food from being too occupied with bothering Bran. "And you best catch up quickly. I'd hate to have to get mother."

Arya shot her a glare before obeying and beginning to eat like a ravenous child. Ismene hummed to herself before rustling Jon's abundance of curls. "I'll see you two once the lesson is over," she said to both Darik and him before following after Sansa and exiting the room.

❆

SEWING had become a chore for Ismene over the years that she'd been forced to do it. Even though she'd grown very skilled at it, it wasn't necessarily her favorite thing to do. Getting out of the lesson was a relief after accidentally pricking her fingers one too many times, a thing she rarely did. She accepted the fact that her mind was in other places and she wasn't really at fault.

After the lesson, she'd found Jon and the two of them were making their way toward the courtyard where they planned to visit an animal stall that a bitch had just given birth to a new litter of puppies. With the two being close, they often were around each other when everyone else was caught up in their own activities.

"I hope father lets me keep one of the pups," Ismene comments as they both round the corner and enter the muddy yard. Ahead, the main gates are being opened but the two don't take any notice. "I've been begging for one since I was eight. You'd think I've waited long enough."

"I'm sure you could do a little convincing," Jon reassures with a smile. "I must admit I'd like one myself. I wouldn't mind a little companion to follow me around."

"Me as well."

They walk in silence for a little while before they finally arrive to the unused stall, containing the bitch and her litter of puppies. The two pause at the door to look down on the squirming pups. One pup in particular had squirmed too far away from its mother, it searching around with unopened eyes. Ismene frowned at the site.

"I hate to bring about such a conversation, but how do you do it?" Ismene begins as they both look down at the puppies. "How do you handle being a bastard. It's been on my mind lately, especially with the way Catelyn has behaves toward you. It angers me, truly."

Jon hesitates for a moment before replying. "I suppose I just try to ignore it. It's not the easiest thing to do. She doesn't make it easy."

Ismene frowns as she looks over to him. "Y'know, if I was to become lady of this house, I would legitimize you. Or something. I don't know, but I would do everything I could to ensure you were cursed with Snow anymore."

Jon looks over with clouded brown eyes of grief, yet he forces a weak smiles on his lips. "You've always been the kindest to me, of everyone. Robb likes to have me around to ride and spar, Darik sometimes to for the same things, but you care about. Truly care. Thank you, Ismene, for always being the family I need."

"I couldn't think of doing anything else," she tells him. "You're my brother. You'll always be. It's my duty to treat you as so." The two share a smile, bonding together as a light summers snow began to descend from the sky above.