Chapter 7

"What did you talk about with Lady Drin's maid?" Robb asked curiously after he and Jon had escorted Drin and her maid back to the Keep.

"We didn't talk much," Jon replied. "She was very nervous. Terrified, even."

"Yes, Lady Drin mentioned her fear of the wilderness," Robb said thoughtfully.

Jon shook his head. "I don't think it was just the wilderness she was afraid of."

Robb's brows furrowed. "What then? Of you?"

Jon hesitated briefly before answering. "Possibly."

"Why? You were polite to her, weren't you?"

"Of course I was," Jon said, his tone firm, a hint of irritation flickering across his face.

"Then why would she fear you?" Robb pressed.

Jon's expression softened into something more reflective. "Not every place is like Winterfell, Robb," he said quietly. "And I imagine the Dreadfort isn't the kindest place for a young woman."

Robb's expression darkened, his thoughts flickering to the stories whispered about the Boltons. He glanced back toward the Keep, where Lady Drin and her maid had disappeared moments before. "Do you think… she's afraid of Lady Drin's family?"

Jon nodded slightly. "It's possible. The girl flinched every time I spoke, even when I tried to reassure her. That's not the reaction of someone unaccustomed to fear."

Robb frowned, his steps slowing. "But Lady Drin doesn't seem cruel. If anything, she's… kind. Considerate."

"Maybe," Jon said, his tone measured. "But kindness doesn't mean she can protect the people around her. Not if she's powerless against her own family."

The weight of Jon's words settled heavily between them. Robb was silent for a moment, thinking back to Drin's composed demeanor and the glimpses of guarded emotion behind her polite smiles.

"She seemed worried for her maid," Robb said finally. "Even when we were walking, she kept looking back, like she was afraid something might happen."

"That tells you something, doesn't it?" Jon asked, his voice soft but firm. "If she's used to living in fear, it's no surprise her maid feels the same way."

Robb nodded, his jaw tightening. He didn't like the picture Jon was painting, but he couldn't dismiss it either. He'd seen enough to know that noble houses were often harsher than they appeared from the outside.

"Do you think she's hiding something?" Robb asked, more to himself than Jon.

Jon shrugged. "Maybe. Or maybe she's just doing what she has to do to survive." He paused, then added, "But if you're serious about her, you'll have to find out what's behind all those smiles."

Robb didn't reply immediately, his gaze fixed on the fading outline of the Keep. "I'll think about it," he said eventually.

Jon didn't press further, his steps falling into stride beside Robb's as they returned to Winterfell's halls.

Drin allowed herself to take a deep breath once she was safely back in her chamber.

"My lady?" Larra's timid voice broke the silence. "Please, forgive me. I didn't mean to leave you alone with Lord Stark..."

"It's fine, Larra," Drin interrupted gently, turning to face her maid. "Are you alright? Did… everything go well with Lord Snow?"

"Yes, my lady," Larra replied softly, her gaze lowered.

Drin studied her carefully, searching for any signs of distress. "You can tell me if something happened," she said in a soothing tone. "I can arrange for someone else to escort you next time if…"

Larra quickly shook her head, her voice firm despite its quietness. "He didn't touch me, my lady. I swear it."

Drin's shoulders relaxed slightly, though the tension in her chest remained. She stepped closer, lowering her voice as she placed a gentle hand on Larra's arm. "I'm glad to hear that, truly. But it's not just about being touched, Larra. If there's anything at all that made you uncomfortable, you must tell me."

Larra hesitated, her gaze falling to the floor. "He didn't say much, my lady. But... he kept looking at me. Like he was trying to figure something out."

Drin tilted her head, concern flickering across her face. "Do you think he was judging you?"

"I don't know," Larra admitted, her voice trembling slightly. "He wasn't unkind, but I felt... small. Like he could see everything I've been through."

Drin sighed softly, her fingers tightening slightly on Larra's arm in reassurance. "If you don't feel safe around him, we'll make sure you're not left alone with him again. Alright?"

Larra nodded, her shoulders relaxing just a fraction. "Thank you, my lady. But he really didn't hurt me."

Drin gave her a reassuring smile, though she was careful to mask her lingering concern. "I'm glad to hear that."

Still, the situation troubled her. She knew almost nothing of Jon Snow's character or how much influence he might wield over Robb Stark. His status as a bastard didn't tell her much, after all, Ramsay, also a bastard, held terrifying power in the Dreadfort. She needed to tread carefully until she better understood the dynamics at play in Winterfell.

"My lady?" Larra said quietly, breaking the silence after a moment. "If… if you were to stay in Winterfell, could you… could you consider keeping me as your maid?"

Drin didn't hesitate. "Yes," she replied firmly. "If I were to wed Lord Stark, you won't be sent back to the Dreadfort. I promise you that."

Larra's eyes filled with tears at Drin's words, though she quickly blinked them away, lowering her gaze again. "Thank you, my lady. You've always been kind to me. Kinder than anyone."

Drin reached out, placing a gentle hand on Larra's shoulder. "Kindness should not be exceptional, Larra. You deserve it as much as anyone."

The maid gave a faint nod, though her expression remained uncertain. Drin couldn't blame her. Years of mistreatment under Ramsay's shadow were not easily forgotten.

Drin's thoughts, however, remained tangled. Her promise to Larra was genuine, but she also knew that it hinged on a delicate thread of possibility, one that depended entirely on Robb Stark's decision. And yet, she couldn't dwell on uncertainties now. A plan, she reminded herself, always needed a foundation, no matter how tenuous.

"You should rest now," Drin said softly, her voice steady. "We'll face whatever comes next together."

Larra hesitated, as if she wanted to say more, but finally dipped her head and retreated to her corner of the chamber.

Drin watched her for a moment before turning back to the window, her own thoughts refusing to settle. She had seen the way Robb watched her during their walk, his expressions veering between intrigue and contemplation. It was clear that he was weighing his own decisions, as much as she was preparing for hers.

And then there was Jon Snow. His sharp gaze and quiet demeanor had unsettled Larra, and Drin found herself equally wary of him. She hoped he didn't share Ramsay's cruelty, few men did, but she had no way of knowing his true intentions.

Drin would need to tread carefully, navigating the delicate balance between her own ambitions and the promises she'd made to Larra. Failure wasn't an option, not now. Then again, it never had been.

"Sister!" Ramsay's cheerful voice called out as Drin made her way toward the Great Hall for dinner.

The tone of his voice immediately set Drin on edge. Ramsay's cheerfulness was never a good sign. She forced a polite smile before turning to face him.

"Good evening, brother."

He took a moment to inspect her, his gaze slow and appraising, a smirk curling on his lips. "Well, you look good enough to eat," he hummed. "Has your suitor already taken a bite? I hope you were coy enough to at least pretend to protest."

Drin's stomach churned, but she kept her expression serene, the polite smile never faltering. "You flatter me, Ramsay. Lord Stark has been nothing but a gentleman."

Ramsay's smirk widened, his eyes gleaming with twisted amusement. "A gentleman? Oh, how dull. A wolf should have a bit more bite, don't you think?"

She kept her voice calm, her tone light. "I suppose that depends on the wolf. Some rely on cunning rather than brute force."

Ramsay laughed, the sound sharp and cutting. "Cunning, yes. But don't mistake cleverness for safety, sister. Wolves may seem tame, but they're always hungry."

"I'll keep that in mind," Drin replied smoothly, her heart pounding in her chest. Her brother's games were dangerous, his words laced with meanings she could never take at face value.

He stepped closer, lowering his voice, though the malice in his tone was as clear as ever. "You've done well to charm the pup so far, but remember, Drin... the game doesn't end with the match. It's only just beginning."

Drin held his gaze, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her fear. "Thank you for the advice, brother. I'll keep it in mind."

Ramsay's grin was sharp and feral as he stepped back, sweeping an exaggerated bow. "I look forward to seeing how you play, dear sister," he purred. He paused, leaning in closer. "In fact, I might play a little game myself. I'm bored, you see. And you know how much I hate being bored."

Drin's heart skipped a beat, but she forced her composure to remain intact.

"I doubt Father would appreciate that, brother," she said evenly, her tone cool. "We are guests here."

Ramsay's eyes flashed with mock hurt. "You offend me, my sweet Drin," he hummed. "Do you really think I'd break our host's property? What kind of savage do you take me for?" He leaned in even closer, so that she could feel his breath against her cheek. "Fortunately, you've brought me a fine thing to play with."

Without waiting for a response, he turned and strode away, whistling a carefree tune.

Drin stood frozen for a moment, her heart pounding as Ramsay's words sank in. Larra.

Without wasting another second, Drin made her way back to her chambers. She found Larra preparing the bed for the night, her hands moving mechanically as she glanced up, surprised to see Drin.

"Did you forget something, my lady?"

"I need you to come with me," Drin said firmly, forcing herself to sound composed despite the rising panic.

Larra's eyes widened in confusion. "But my lady…"

"Larra, I need you to listen to me," Drin said, her voice low and urgent as she placed a hand on the maid's arm. "You mustn't go anywhere alone. I fear you might be in danger."

Larra froze, her eyes wide with fear as Drin's words sank in. "Danger, my lady? From whom?"

Drin hesitated, knowing the truth would only terrify her further. But she couldn't afford to be vague. "From my brother," she admitted softly, her tone serious. "Ramsay enjoys... games, and he doesn't care who gets hurt."

The maid's hands trembled, clutching the fabric of her skirt. "What should I do, my lady? Should I hide?"

Drin shook her head, her grip tightening on Larra's arm to ground her. "No. Hiding would only make him hunt you. Stay close to me, always. If I'm not available, find one of the Stark women, anyone who can protect you."

Larra's lips parted as though to protest, but she swallowed her words, nodding quickly instead. "Yes, my lady. I'll stay with you."

Drin managed a reassuring smile, though her chest felt tight with the weight of responsibility. "Good. We'll get through this. You just have to trust me."

Larra nodded again, though her wide eyes betrayed her lingering terror. "I do, my lady. Thank you."

Drin nodded, her thoughts racing. Ramsay's threats were not idle, and she knew all too well what his idea of a "game" entailed. For Larra's sake, and her own, she needed a proposal from Robb Stark. Only then could she hope to protect Larra under his authority.

"I can't miss dinner tonight," Drin said, offering Larra a calming smile. "You need to join me."

Larra hesitated, looking uncomfortable. "But my lady, I can't dine with the nobles…"

Drin cut her off, her tone firm. "We'll figure something out. You can't stay here alone."

Larra's face drained of color, but she nodded obediently. "Yes, my lady. Whatever you think is best."

Drin stepped toward the wardrobe, searching for something appropriate for Larra to wear. "We'll say you're assisting me with the meal," she said thoughtfully. "The Starks won't object to a lady's maid being nearby, and no one will question it if you're quiet."

Larra wrung her hands nervously. "But your brother… he'll be there, won't he?"

Drin's stomach twisted at the thought. "Yes, but you'll stay at my side. If he so much as looks your way, I'll find an excuse for us to leave."

Larra nodded again, though her hands still trembled. "I trust you, my lady."

Drin pulled out a simple but presentable gown, holding it up to Larra. "Here, wear this. It's modest enough not to draw attention, but neat enough for the hall."

As Larra took the dress, Drin moved to her vanity, gathering her own thoughts. She knew Ramsay could try something, even in the Great Hall. He thrived on pushing boundaries, testing how far he could go before anyone intervened.

But Drin was determined not to let him win.

As she adjusted her hair, she considered her next steps carefully. She would need to keep Ramsay occupied, ensure that Larra remained unnoticed, and somehow further her connection with Robb Stark, all without giving away her true motives.

It was a delicate dance, but one Drin was used to performing.

"Larra," she said gently, turning back to her maid. "Stay close to me tonight, no matter what happens. And remember, you are not alone."

The maid looked at her with tearful gratitude, clutching the dress to her chest. "Thank you, my lady. I'll do as you say."