┏━ tribulation.
( SCENE 13 ) ━┛

MUCH to Evolet's distaste, she and the others had been forced to seek refuge in Winterfell's dark and desolate catacombs. They are eerily quiet with no light to offer but a few torches dotting the length of the long stone crypt, which they'd managed to light with pieces of flint. Spider webs and all manner of dust and decay covered every inch of the place. She was unhappy but knew that Theon's men weren't likely to look in the catacombs to find them.

Evolet gives Laila what she can of her waterskin, the toddler grasping it to get as much water as she could. The young woman felt horrible for putting her daughter in such horrible conditions, but she was trying her best to make of it what she could. The little girl didn't seem to be unhappy, for she got to her feet and made her way to where Greywind lied on the floor, his ears always perked and listening. The little girl fell onto her fathers direwolf, who begins to affectionately lick her cheek.

Osha and Robb would hopefully be back soon after their search for food. She was the best at being stealthy, so she'd been tasked with retrieving what she could while they took refuge in the catacombs.

Evolet had been plagued with the guilt of leaving her home for Winterfell before her daughter was born, all because of her hateful mother. If she'd simply stayed and endured her harsh treatment, she wouldn't be hiding in the Stark's catacombs.

Why hasn't my mother sent help? Evolet asked herself. She'd dwelled on the thought the longer they were forced to hide. Surely the news of Theon Greyjoy taking Winterfell had reached Lakewell. Did her mother hold such disdain toward her for bearing a bastard that she wouldn't even try to save their lives?

As she gazes around the catacombs, she can only think that she would give anything to be back in Lakewell with her daughter, even if it meant facing her mother's hatefulness.

Suddenly, movement near the entrance causes Evolet to perk. She felt a surge of fear for a moment until confirming that it was Robb and Osha, who appeared with a sack in tow. She is utterly surprised to see Maester Luwin, who follows behind them.

"By the gods, you're all alive," the Maester exclaims in relief. Evolet gets to her feet to greet him.

"We doubled back after reaching a farm," Robb tells him now that they could speak freely in the safety of the crypts walls. "We used the stream to mask our scent from the hounds."

"Good, good," the old man says as he looks past them to Rickon, Bran, and Laila who are carrying on near the dire wolves. "Unfortunately, they took the boys from the farm. They were hung and burned."

Evolet is utterly shocked by the news, a pit of fear in her gut. A pit of guilt as well.

"Do not tell them of the boys Theon killed," Luwin gods on. "They don't need to know that news right now."

"We won't," Evolet assures him.

"Has anything changed?" Robb asked, referring to the keeps occupants.

"Nothing at all," Luwin says sadly. "They still have a strong hold of this place, sadly. I hope that my message to Darik has reached the host. Perhaps they could spare the force's journey back north and free us."

"We should have gone with them," Robb mutters half to himself.

"The battlefield is no place for children," Evolet retorts.

"Then why are my sister's children with the host, then? As far as I'm aware, they are fairing just fine," Robb argues. "If we were with the host, we would be stuck hiding in our own home."

"Stay quiet and if you find the opportunity to escape Winterfell, do it," Luwin interrupts them. "But I'm afraid I must go, but I will do what I can to protect you."

Evolet steps forward and gives the old man a farewell hug. "Stay safe," she bids him.

With a dip of his head, the older man leaves the catacombs. Evolet sees the slightest bit of sunlight reach down the steps, but it disappears just as quickly as it appeared. She frowns to herself, missing fresh air and the sky.

"If there is just a mere door between us and Theon's men," Osha speaks up as she pulls out food from the sack she and Robb had acquired. She hands the bread to the children as she speaks. "We need to plan an escape. I have been lucky in my search for food. If I am caught, we're all in trouble."

"She's right," Robb agrees. "We've got to plan an escape."

"But where would we go?" Evolet asks.

"Is your mother still in Lakewell?" Robb asks, reminding Evolet of what she'd just been dwelling on.

"She is," Evolet muttered. "But Laila and I are not welcome there. I don't believe my mother has accepted the legitimatization of our daughter."

"You lords and ladies with your customs," Osha half-mocked. "It's a shame your mother can't accept you for bearing a healthy child. The Wildlings aren't so lucky. Most babes don't live beyond a moon."

"Is she so cold that she couldn't even offer us asylum?" Robb scoffed.

"She has never quite cared for me, unfortunately." Evolet sighs. "And my father is with Darik's host, as well of Lukas of course. They were the ones who had been more accepting of Laila.

"Well, if you're mother is going to be such a baneful woman, the only option we have is to get to the Wall," Robb muttered. "Jon will ensure our safety there."

"They don't allow women there," Evolet pointed out.

"I'll be damned if they don't accept us," Robb says. "I am the lord of my house while Darik is away. They regret turning away the brother of the king in the North."

❆

IT comes as a surprise when Ismene's mother releases Jaime Lannister from his prison unbeknownst to anyone of authority. No one is quite sure why she did, but with him fleeing into the night, their only chance at exchanging hostage for hostage was gone. It not only enrages the lords but Darik as well, who was still battling with the news of Bran and Rickon's brutal deaths.

Every lord convened in the war tent early in the morning to discuss the news that had spread quickly to the King's ears. The uneasiness caused by Darik's anger was apparent in the quiet conversation carried out by those in the tent.

Ismene herself was deeply upset that their prized captive had been set free without facing any justice for all that he contributed to the war they were fighting. She'd hoped and prayed he would be the key to getting Sansa and Arya back, but now they were in the same position they'd been before trying to find a way to tediously acquire their safety.

"Things seem to be growing more and more complicated," Ismene says to Lukas, who stands at her side. "It's as if we gain an advantage only for it to go nowhere."

"Your mother has made possibly the worst decision in this war," her husband agrees. "Darik had planned to send an envoy to King's Landing to retire your sisters in exchange for Jaime. At this rate, the chances of getting them back now are slim."

Ismene's stomach churns at the thought. She'd just lost her two little brothers, would the old gods be so cruel to take her sisters as well?

Amid the talking among the lords, Catelyn finally makes her appearance before Darik. The tent quiets just as Darik clears his throat from where he sits behind the map table. He leans forward, placing his elbows on the map.

"You have done a great offense, mother," Darik begins, his hands clasped together. His expression is harsh and unhappy. "You have let our most valuable hostage loose in a time of war. What say you?"

Catelyn doesn't look as if she feels guilty. "I truly believe that Ser Jaime's release might bargain us the freedom of Sansa and Arya if he is returned safely," she tells them. "My only intentions were to ensure the safety of your sisters."

"No matter if your intentions were good, we've lost the most valuable captive we could have acquired in this war. You've betrayed me by releasing behind my back."

Darik leans back into the chair he sits in and sighs. "Take my mother," He orders some of the lords. "Put her under guard."

Catelyn leaves the tent with her eyes trained to her feet as she is escorted away. The other lords begin milling out of the tent as well after Darik releases them with a wave of his hand.

Ismene makes her way to him, standing at the opposite side of the table.

"You know our mother only meant well," Ismene tries telling him in defense of Catelyn.

"She let go of our most valuable captive," Darik retorted. "You expect me to just accept her betrayal? She took matters in her own hands as if she commands this host."

Ismene had a hard time trying to defend against his statement. "If anything, don't be cruel towards her."

"She knew what she was doing, Ismene," Darik muttered, rising to his feet. "She's driven by grief over Rickon, Bran, and our father, understandably. But she still challenged my authority as king."

He makes his exit, leaving Ismene where she stands. She is conflicted about it all, but she knows that Darik is ultimately right. He was indeed the King, after all.

❆

IN the evening following the news of Jaime's escape, Lukas makes his rounds of his men to ensure that everything is running as it should. As he finishes speaking with one of his lieutenants near a fire where his men converse and eat supper, he turns to face Aubrey and Darik who have come seemingly from nowhere. They appear as unhappy as they were earlier that day, but he is unsure of the occasion for them to find him so late in the evening.

"Good evening," Lukas greets as he turns toward them. "Is something wrong?"

"We'd like to speak to you," Aubrey mutters. "Privately."

Lukas knows they must be particularly unhappy with him, but he ultimately follows them through the camp to the empty war tent to face their wrath.

"Why did Jaime Lannister escape on the one night we entrust the host into your care?" Aubrey is quick to blame Lukas as soon as the tent flap has closed behind him.

"I—," Lukas barely gets a word out before she continues.

"We leave for one night and our most valuable hostage has been set free, by our good-mother no less," Aubrey fumes.

Lukas looks to Darik for support, but he is still just as upset. He looks back to his cousin to speak in his defense.

"I had no knowledge of Catelyn doing it until Jaime was well on his way to escaping into the night," Lukas defends himself. He is quite confused as to where her sheer anger is coming from, for she is never normally so angry.

"I just don't understand, Lukas," Aubrey mutters. "Jaime could have been the key to ending this war. Tywin Lannister would never allow his heir be slaughtered by Northmen. We could have gotten Sansa and Arya back and ended this all."

"I would have dealt with the situation accordingly had I known what was going on," Lukas muttered. He tried his best to not blame himself, yet the guilt was still there.

"Aubrey, don't blame him," Darik speaks up. It seems as if his anger has dissipated. "He is right. I know he would've stopped my mother had he known. He's proven he is capable of handling things on his own. My mother simply went behind our backs."

Aubrey sighs angrily as if she doesn't want to agree with Darik, but knows he is right.

"What is our next move, then?" She asks, annoyed.

Lukas' mind was racing as he tried thinking of what he could come up with in order to appease her anger. With Jaime gone, the only other thing they could do was to take back Winterfell. He hoped that it might bring his sister and niece back to safety if they knew it was safe, wherever they were.

"We could take back Winterfell," Lukas suggests. It warrants the confused looks of both Aubrey and Darik.

"We're weeks of travel away from it," Darik says. "As well as we are still in the middle of fending off the Lannister army. How would we do that?"

"Roose Bolton has a bastard, I've heard," Lukas says, recalling the lord boasting about his illegitimate son and his loyalty. "As far as I'm aware, he has been said to be quite efficient in carrying out his father's wishes. Perhaps we could convince Lord Bolton to send some of his men north to take back Winterfell?"

Darik and Aubrey look as if they are contemplating the idea. Lukas hopes it brings the approval of them both and that they might forgive the escape of Jaime.

"I suppose that might work," Darik agrees, but his eyes cloud with grief. "Then perhaps we might give Bran and Rickon the burial they deserve."

"We'll speak to Lord Bolton," Aubrey tells Lukas more kindly than she had before.

Aubrey and Darik take their leave from the tent, leaving Lukas alone. He is still overwhelmed from guilt from the situation, the weight on his shoulders not relenting despite his cousin and good-brother conceding to his suggestion. He sighs, leaving the tent.