┏━ tribulation.
( SCENE 6 ) ━┛

ISMENE watched as Rowan and Damon talked to each other, playing with little wooden wolf figurines that had been crafted for them by a few kindly men of the host during the down time it often had between interactions with the Lannister's. She smiled to herself as she crossed her legs, resting chin on her hand as she positioned her elbow on her leg. She loved how the boys were already growing so smart, able to form full sentences now and even putting names to faces. She knew a war camp was no place for a child. But still, they were thriving.

Lukas sits at the table nearby, seemingly his throne as he goes over an assortment of papers and scrolls that he must get in order for Darik. Fenrir, the direwolf having grown thrice his size since leaving Lakewell, lied on the ground next to the desk with his large head resting on his paws. Lukas had fought well in the battle of Oxcross and Ismene had seen for herself. She had never quite known how good he was with a sword until she saw him cut through men as if it were but a hobby. Pride swelled in her heart anytime she thought of him fighting so valiantly.

She herself was recovering from the most recent battle, her first taste of combat. Muscles worn and donning some minor bruises, she fought well against the Lannister's. She had found that the southerners didn't fight nearly as fierce as them. As a way of concealing her identity so that the northmen would not rage over the Lady Estemore's presence in battle, Ismene donned all the armor she possibly could: boiled leather, chain mail, steel gauntlets, a thick breast plate and even a helmet. She had shoved her longs locks away within her helm and worn leather gloves to conceal her dainty hands.

Finding it hard to swing a sword and defend herself properly, she eventually ripped away the gloves and tossed them to the ground to be consumed by the abundance of mud created by the thousands of feet trampling it. She'd stayed alongside Lukas the entire time and luckily her training with Aubrey had done its job in saving her life. She would be lying if she said she hadn't been scared shitless once the two hosts began running for each other to commence in cruel battling but she stayed confident in herself and fought with all she had.

Her gaze lifted to her husband where he sat, still focused on raven scrolls and papers. She smirked softly to herself thinking about what an arrogant and wily boy he'd been when they first wed, now turned into the Hand of a king. Not only becoming a wise advisor, his sword skills and growing knowledge of war was helping Darik immensely during the war. She couldn't be prouder to have him as her husband and the father of her children.

Damon let out an angry cry and Ismene's attention was torn away from her day dreaming. She looks to see that Rowan has picked up Damon's wooden wolf that he had left unattended, his attention elsewhere. The obvious discomfort of the children stirs Fenrir from his sleep and soon the beast has made his way over to lie next to them.

"Now, now," Ismene smiled as she went to discipline the boys. "There's no time for fussing. You need to share."

Rowan looked to Ismene with wide, innocent blue eyes before offering the wolf back to Damon without a word. He'd always been the most compliant of the two, the quietest as well. Ismene loved his gentleness and prayed it would never go away.

"I wish we could give them better things to play with," Lukas voices his opinion from the desk. His eyes are still trained on the papers as he scans them. "Children deserve to do more than live in a tent."

"I know," Ismene agreed grimly. She rises to her feet and wanders over to his side, where she draped herself over his back and clings to his shoulders affectionately. "But, they say children born and raises during war always grow to be the hardiest. They'll grow to be strong boys and even stronger men."

"I suppose there's truth in that," Lukas agreed as he turned his head to plant a kiss on Ismene's cheek. "My father wasn't a child during the Rebellion, but he surely melded to the life of war. Or perhaps it was my mother that hardened his heart."

They share a laugh together at the common knowledge that Helen Estemore was a bitter woman. Even if it was a sad truth, the two were always able to find some joy among troubling times.

The flaps of the tent pull open as Darik makes an appearance. Ismene's heart skips for a moment before she greets her brother.

"Brother."

"Sister," he greets back. He looks down at Damon's an Rowan, who look up to their uncle. "Hello boys."

"Hello," the boys both reply in their own little ways, Rowan quieter while Damon was much more enthusiastic.

Darik grins as he looks back to Ismene and Lukas. "Lukas, if you wouldn't mind," he steps to the side, gesturing toward the tents exit. "I'd like to speak with Ismene."

Ismene's heart drops as her husband rises to his feet and dread washes over her. She watches him makes his way out, Darik giving him a friendly pat on the back as he leaves. What did Darik want to discuss that Lukas couldn't be present for? She internally trembled.

Lukas is gone and it leaves Ismene and Darik with the boys. He takes a seat on the small bench she'd been seated on before and she leans her hips against Lukas' table where she stands.

"It's incredible how well they have thrived since the war started," Darik remarked, gesturing to the boys. He leaned down to pet Fenrir's head as he spoke.

"They are strong boys," Ismene agrees. "Though harsh conditions, the traveling seems to agree with them."

"It stills amazes me that you had insisted on joining the host with two newborn boys at your breast," Darik reminisces. "I could only imagine that Aubrey would have done the same. I don't blame you for wanting to come though, I understand you wanted to save our father and sisters."

"I wouldn't have survived in Lakewell on my own," Ismene tells him. "Not without Lukas."

"Is it dreary there?" Darik asked. "I've only read about it before in our lessons with Maester Luwin. It was always described to be quite beautiful. Carved into the hills, over looking the Long Lake."

"The keep itself is beautiful," she sighed. "And the lands around it. It's more of the company I could have done without."

"You would have stayed behind with his sister," Darik pointed out. "Evolet doesn't seem like that sour of company. Quite a cheerful girl if I remember correctly."

"I think it was Robb's doing that turned her heart," Ismene muttered. "She has a hateful mother, a disinterested and cold father, all to add on a bastard in her arms. I don't think I'd be a very cheerful person if I were in such a situation."

"It is quite a thing to think we have a niece back home," Darik smiled. "Little Laila Snow. Now Stark. I received a letter from Robb telling me he legitimized the girl. I assume to save her the future heartache."

"A wise decision," Ismene agreed. As much as she would have wanted to talk in a different situation, she couldn't carry on the conversation much longer, not with the fear of wanting to know his true intentions to come to their tent in the night.

"Tell me, Darik, why are you here?" She cut the conversation short with her question.

His lips formed into a thin line, an obvious sign something was awry. He looks as if he is trying to find the correct words to start with.

"We've always told each other everything," he began. "Always. Anything you've ever needed to express, I was always the first to know. Now that you have a husband, it's understandable that he has taken my place. Aubrey has assumed the same role for me. But of anything you should have told me, it would be that you had participated in the battle of Oxcross. That which you did not consult me about first."

Her expression hardens as she crosses her arms defensively. "I do not need your permission," she muttered.

"I am the King," he remarks curtly, obviously beginning to simmer with anger. "As king I do not care to hear that my twin sister partook in a battle where she could have easily been killed. What would have become of my nephews? Motherless."

Ismene grows angry and it is apparent that Darik is fairing the same. "I fight to avenge our father. If you had forgotten, he was beheaded at the command of a wretched boy king that is in control of the enemy that we are fighting. They have our sisters as prisoners and plan to erase us from this land."

Darik goes to counter her point, but Ismene cuts him off.

"It amuses me that you allow your own wife to fight in battle, but you believe you can tell me otherwise."

Darik's features soften in realization. It's apparent that he knows he is in the wrong as he sighs. The tension begins to diffuse.

"You are right," he mutters. "You are a woman grown and have a husband. You don't answer to me. I cannot let my own wife fight in battle but not you. You have as much of a right as me to avenge our family."

Ismene feels relief wash over her. The fear that had been eating her alive finally dissipated into nothing. Her shoulders slumped and she allowed her arms to fall to her side.

"The only thing I would like to know," Darik continued. "Did Aubrey train you?"

Ismene is unsure if confirming her aid in training would cause grief between them two, but she silently nods.

"I'm not surprised," he half smiles. "She would be the one."

"So you'll allow me to fight alongside you?" She asked.

Darik nodded. "I'd be a fool to stop. Let's hope that Aubrey's training aids you well."