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ON the eveof their departure for Lakewell, Ismene Estemore felt numb. Though she sat in the company of her own family alone, to enjoy what time there was before she and her new family set out, she couldn't bring herself to indulge in what little time she had left with the Starks. Their attention and sympathy seemed only mocking to her, as if they only wanted to move her along so they could get on with their lives. She knew they loved her... but after the marriage she'd taken part in, she couldn't help but hold some resentment with her mother and father.
"What troubles you, Ismene?"
Sansa's question has Ismene's gaze pulling from the dancing fire she'd had her eyes trained on. In her hands is a piece of embroidery she'd been working on for months, but never found the motivation to finish. Sansa was always naive and her question didn't quite surprise Ismene.
Ismene must have looked angry, she guessed. She looks to her younger sister, who was working diligently on her own piece. Sansa had always been the most skillful. Arya had long passed on her work and resorted to playing with Rickon and Bran a crossed the room. There was the obvious absence of Darik and Robb as well. Nearby, her mother and father's attention is drawn as well. Normally, she would have felt content in the presence of her family. Now, it was only a reminder of what she was leaving.
"Nothing," she replies in hopes of preventing any further questioning. She doesn't want any buried anger to manifest on her lastnight with her family. She was lucky enough that her good-father Lord Henrik has been kind enough to allow one more night at Winterfell.
"You've always been the worst liar," Sansa half mutters. Her blue eyes train on her work again and Ismene scoffs.
"If you want to speak to any of us, you know you can," her mother offers with a warm smile.
Her father nods in agreement at her side. "We would hate for you to leave upset," he tells her in his normally bland tone. Ismene begins to feel anger welling in her chest.
It's not that you have to deal with it once I'm gone, she thought bitterly to herself. Unable to contain the anger, she lets out a heavy sigh.
"Well, leaving is the one thing that has me upset," she mutters. She looks back to the fire, wishing she could chuck something at it and cause it to plume to express her rage.
The room is silent now, having even drawn the attention of Bran, Arya, and Rickon. Ismene was close to storming from the room, but she can't. She won't. She will leave quietly without a manifestation of her true feelings so that she won't entirely ruin the final moments she had with her family. She would hate herself if she left in anger.
"My dear, Lukas is a fine man," her father seems to remind her. She normally appreciated her father's words of advice, but now she couldn't help but scowl. "He will make you happy. He is your husband, and wherever your husband goes, you do."
