Chapter 8

"What is your maid doing here, girl?" Lord Bolton's voice was low and sharp as Drin took her seat beside him.

"Lord Stark mentioned that he believes all ladies should have a handmaiden," Drin replied smoothly, lying without hesitation. "I told him Larra is being trained to become mine."

She dared not meet her father's gaze, aware of how easily he could see through falsehoods. His piercing eyes lingered on her, scrutinizing, before he gave a brief, curt nod.

"It's good to see you're capable of using your head," he remarked, his tone laced with cold disdain. "But don't mistake cleverness for value. Your thoughts are not what Robb Stark cares about."

"Yes, Father," Drin murmured, keeping her voice steady.

Roose leaned in, his expression harsh, his voice quieter but no less menacing. "Can I expect him to approach me soon?"

Her heart pounded. Drin hesitated for the barest moment before replying, "I hope so, Father."

Pain flared in her thigh as his hand clamped down, cruel and unrelenting. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from crying out.

"You hope so?"

"I know so," she corrected quickly, her voice taut with controlled fear. "I won't fail you, Father."

"You won't if you know what's good for you," he said coldly, his grip releasing at last. "Do you understand the shame it would bring if he doesn't propose after all this courting?"

Drin nodded, keeping her gaze downcast. "I understand."

"Good." Roose leaned back, his tone taking on a detached cruelty. "You know why he's interested in you. Give him a taste if you must. I don't care what it takes, secure the union."

Drin swallowed hard, forcing herself to maintain her composure as her father's words lingered in her mind. The weight of his expectations pressed down on her like a crushing tide. But she couldn't let him see her falter, not here, not now.

"Yes, Father," she replied quietly, her tone obedient.

The sound of cutlery and muted conversation filled the hall, a stark contrast to the turmoil inside her. She glanced toward the table where Robb sat, his expression calm and regal as he listened to one of his bannermen speak.

Drin forced herself to eat a few bites, though the food tasted like ash. She cast a quick look toward Larra, who stood unobtrusively near the edge of the hall. Her maid's posture was stiff, her eyes darting nervously around the room. Drin had done her best to shield Larra, but even now, she couldn't be sure she'd succeeded. Ramsay's presence was a dark cloud that loomed over both of them, and her father's threats only compounded her unease.

Roose leaned closer again, his voice soft but biting. "Fix your face, girl. You look like a frightened doe. Weakness doesn't lure wolves."

Drin straightened her spine, forcing a serene smile to her lips. "Of course, Father," she murmured.

"Lady Drin!" Lord Umber's voice called from across the hall. "Would you sing for us?"

Drin's stomach tightened at the request, but she quickly masked her hesitation with a gracious smile. She rose gracefully from her seat, feeling the weight of Roose's sharp gaze boring into her back.

"Of course, Lord Umber," she said, her voice steady despite the swirl of nerves beneath the surface.

The hall grew quieter as she made her way to the small dais reserved for entertainment. She felt the stares of the room, some curious, others appraising. She could sense Ramsay's predatory amusement from somewhere behind her, like a dagger at her back.

Drin took a deep breath, her mind racing through the songs she knew. This wasn't just about pleasing the room; this was another part of the game. Her choice would reflect her intelligence, her charm, and, most importantly, her ability to hold the room's attention, qualities she knew were being judged.

She chose a northern ballad, one well-known for its wistful yet noble tone, a song that spoke of loyalty, resilience, and honor. It was a calculated decision, meant to appeal to the values of her audience, particularly Robb Stark.

As she began to sing, her voice rang out clear and steady, carrying through the hall. The melody wove a spell, drawing the room into the tale of the song. She kept her expression composed but warm, her eyes occasionally flitting to Robb, whose attention seemed fixed on her.

When she finished, there was a brief moment of silence before the hall erupted in applause. Drin curtsied gracefully, her heart pounding in her chest.

"Well done, Lady Drin!" Lord Umber bellowed, raising his tankard in a toast. "A voice like that could tame a wild bear!"

Drin allowed herself a small, demure smile as she returned to her seat. She could feel the eyes on her still, but one gaze in particular stood out, Robb's.

"Impressive," Roose murmured as she sat down. His tone was devoid of warmth, but she detected a hint of approval.

She glanced at him briefly before turning her attention back to the hall.

Her heart skipped a beat as she noticed Robb approaching their table.

"Good evening, Lord Bolton," he greeted politely. "My lady."

Roose nodded curtly. "Good evening, Lord Stark."

"May I have the honor of your daughter's company at my table?"

Roose's expression barely shifted, but his calculating gaze lingered on Robb for a heartbeat too long. Then, with a slow nod, he replied, "Of course, Lord Stark."

Drin's hands clenched beneath the table, hidden in the folds of her gown. She rose with practiced grace, offering Robb a faint but polite smile. "It would be my pleasure, my lord."

Robb extended an arm, a gesture that caught her slightly off-guard, but she recovered quickly and placed her hand lightly on his. As he led her toward his table, she felt Roose's eyes on her back, a silent reminder of the stakes.

Once seated beside Robb, Drin was acutely aware of the curious glances from the lords and ladies around them. Her posture remained poised, her smile composed.

"I hope I didn't interrupt anything important," Robb said, as he leaned slightly closer.

"Not at all," Drin replied smoothly, her voice low and calm. "It's an honor to join you."

"Good evening, my lady," Theon Greyjoy greeted her with a grin. "You look lovely."

"Thank you, my lord," she replied, offering him a polite smile. Drin had been wary of him ever since their dance together. His touch had been intrusive, and the entire situation had clearly amused him. While she hadn't shown her discomfort, of course, she had hoped to avoid him. Now, however, that was impossible, especially with him sitting at Robb Stark's table, alongside Jon Snow and a few bannermen.

Drin kept her composure, though Theon's grin lingered in her peripheral vision like an unwelcome shadow. She turned her attention back to Robb, subtly shifting in her seat to create a buffer between herself and Lord Greyjoy.

"Your table is quite distinguished, my lord," she said, directing her words to Robb with a hint of lightness.

Robb's smiled, though his sharp gaze flicked briefly to Theon before returning to Drin. "We're fortunate to have good company tonight."

"Indeed," Theon interjected, clearly enjoying himself. "It's rare to have such a beauty grace our table. You make the rest of us look dull, my lady."

Drin inclined her head gracefully, her tone measured as she replied, "Your words are too kind, my lord. Though I doubt anyone could find this company lacking."

She navigated the conversation with practiced ease, ensuring that most of her attention stayed on Robb, while subtly keeping an eye on Larra. Ramsay prowled around the hall, doing everything he could to distract Drin. He was clearly enjoying every moment of it.

"So, have you grown tired of Robb's company already, my lady?" Theon hummed with a grin.

Drin's smile remained polite. "On the contrary, my lord Greyjoy," she replied. "Lord Stark's company is most engaging. It's a privilege to share his table."

Her words were a subtle rebuke, and she noticed Robb's lips twitch in what seemed to be restrained amusement. Theon, however, looked unabashed, leaning back in his chair with a lazy grin.

"Well, I suppose that's fortunate for Robb," Theon said, raising his goblet. "Though I must say, you're far too lovely for him."

Robb's brows lifted slightly, though his tone remained light. "Careful, Theon. You're starting to sound jealous."

The table chuckled softly, though Drin's attention briefly flicked to Ramsay. He was lingering by a group of bannermen, his eyes flicking her way now and then.

She returned her focus to Robb, her voice steady as she spoke, "I heard you have a library here, my lord. Would it be possible for me to borrow a book to read?"

"Of course, my lady," Robb assured. "I would be happy to show you the library if you like."

Drin offered him a soft smile. "I would be most grateful, my lord."

She didn't have time to continue when a servant, who was filling her cup, accidentally knocked it over, spilling wine on her.

Drin startled slightly, the cool liquid soaking into her dress. The hall grew quieter as nearby guests turned to look, and the servant immediately began stammering apologies.

"My deepest apologies, my lady," the servant said, his hands trembling as he grabbed a cloth to blot the wine.

Drin gave him a calming smile, her first instinct urging her to protect the poor man from punishment. "It's alright," she said softly, her tone even and composed. "Accidents happen."

Robb, already rising from his seat, gestured to the servant to step aside. "I'll call for someone to assist you, my lady."

"That won't be necessary," Drin replied, her voice calm. "It's a small inconvenience."

Despite her protest, Robb motioned to one of the nearby maids. "Bring Lady Drin a fresh cloth and make sure she's comfortable."

As the maid rushed over, Theon leaned back in his chair, smirking. "It seems Winterfell's hospitality has been a little too enthusiastic tonight."

"It's alright, my lord, truly," she assured, giving Robb a smile. "No harm done."

Robb returned her smile, though his gaze lingered on her, as if ensuring she was truly unbothered. "Even so, we should make sure you're not left uncomfortable."

The maid arrived promptly, dabbing at Drin's dress with care. "Shall I fetch you a change, my lady?" the maid asked, her voice low but efficient.

Drin shook her head gracefully. "That won't be necessary, thank you. This will do for now."

She glanced around the table, noting the mixture of amusement and mild concern on the faces of those present. It was important to downplay the incident; she didn't want to get the servant into trouble. She wasn't sure what happened to those who made mistakes in Winterfell, but she had seen the consequences in the Dreadfort.

"I admire your composure, my lady," Theon remarked. "Most would have made quite the fuss."

Drin met Theon's gaze steadily, her smile polite. "It takes far more than spilled wine to unsettle me, my lord. Life is too full of real troubles to waste energy on such small things."

Her words drew a soft chuckle from the table, and Robb's approving smile deepened. "A commendable attitude," he said.

"Indeed," Theon added, though the mischievous glint in his eyes remained. "Though I hope Winterfell can offer you fewer of these 'small inconveniences' moving forward."

"Perhaps we should take it as a sign," Drin replied smoothly, her tone light but controlled. "Every new place brings its little trials. It's how one handles them that matters."

The table murmured in agreement, and the tension eased as the conversation shifted to other topics. Drin kept her poise, stealing occasional glances around the hall. Ramsay was still there, hovering at the edges of the gathering, but his attention seemed divided now, flitting between her and other guests.

Her thoughts, however, lingered on the servant. Though her words had likely protected him for now, she knew all too well that even small mistakes could lead to harsh consequences, depending on who took notice. She resolved to subtly check on him later, ensuring he'd face no undue punishment.

When the meal finally concluded, Robb turned to her with a small smile. "Would you still like to see the library, my lady? I can escort you if you wish."

Drin hesitated for the briefest moment, mindful of the eyes still lingering on them, before offering a demure nod. "I would like that very much, my lord. Would you mind if my maid joins us?"

"No, of course not. Is she in your chamber? I can have someone fetch her…"

"No, she's right there, my lord," Drin replied, gesturing toward Larra.

Robb raised an eyebrow. "Forgive me, I didn't notice she was here."

"Yes, Larra is to become my handmaiden," Drin explained, keeping a smile on her face. "She is still in training."

She could only hope her explanation was convincing enough. Robb seemed slightly confused for a moment, but then nodded. "I see. Then it's good she's here. A handmaiden should be close to her lady. Shall we?"

Drin nodded, relief flickering through her. As they rose from the table, she gestured subtly to Larra, who hurried to join them, keeping her head bowed and steps light.

The three walked through the corridors of Winterfell, the cool stone walls lending an air of solemnity to the castle. Robb made conversation, pointing out features of the castle's architecture and recounting snippets of its history. Larra trailed behind them, her presence quiet but steady.

When they arrived at the library, Robb pushed open the heavy wooden doors, revealing a vast room lined with shelves that stretched from floor to ceiling. The air smelled of parchment and ink, a comforting blend that reminded Drin of quieter, simpler days when she had stolen moments to read in the Dreadfort.

"Winterfell's library has been here for generations," Robb said, gesturing around the room. "Though I doubt it rivals the Citadel, it holds a wealth of knowledge about the North."

Drin stepped inside, her eyes scanning the rows of books. "It's remarkable," she said softly. "You must feel fortunate to have access to such a collection."

"I've always valued it," Robb stated. "My father encouraged us to read, to know the histories of our land and our people." He paused, watching her as she ran her fingers lightly along the spines of the books. "You mentioned that you also enjoy reading, my lady?"

"Very much," Drin replied, glancing at him with a faint smile. "Books offer an escape, a glimpse into worlds beyond our own. For some of us, that's invaluable."

Robb seemed to consider her words, his expression thoughtful. "An insightful way to look at it."

Drin turned her attention back to the books, selecting one with a simple leather cover. "May I?" she asked, holding it up.

"Of course," Robb said. "Take as many as you like."

Drin carefully opened the book, letting her eyes skim the neat handwriting inside. She felt Robb's gaze on her, but she kept her expression serene, aware of the delicate balance she needed to maintain.

Behind her, Larra stood near the doorway, her hands clasped nervously. Drin glanced back at her and offered a small nod, a silent reassurance.

"This is a beautiful collection," she said after a moment, closing the book gently. "Thank you for sharing it with me, my lord."

"It's my pleasure," Robb replied. "I hope you're comfortable here."

Drin inclined her head slightly, her smile measured. "That is kind of you, my lord."

She stepped between the shelves, her fingers brushing lightly over the spines of the books.

"This looks like…" she began, turning around, only to find Robb standing close behind her. She startled but quickly masked it behind a soft smile. "Forgive me, my lord, I didn't hear you approach."

He shook his head lightly. "I didn't mean to startle you."

His gaze lingered on her, sharp and discerning, as though trying to unravel a mystery. Alarm bells rang in Drin's mind, her instincts sharpening in response to the weight of his attention.

"You didn't startle me, my lord," she assured, her tone light and steady as she maintained her composure.

A beat of silence passed before Robb spoke again, his voice lower, deliberate. "Is it your wish to wed me, Lady Drin?"

Her breath hitched at the unexpected question, but she gathered herself quickly, lowering her gaze in deference.

"I…I would be honored to wed you, my lord," she replied softly, her voice measured.

Robb didn't look away, his gaze steady and searching. "Honored, perhaps. But do you desire it?"

Drin's heart quickened, though she maintained her serene expression. She knew her response could decide the fate of both her and Larra. "You have treated me kindly, my lord, and I have no doubt that you will be a great leader," she began softly. "If you'll have me, I will gladly stand by your side. You will always have my loyalty, devotion, and respect."

"Loyalty?" Robb said, taking a step closer.

Drin forced herself to stay calm, painfully aware of her vulnerable position. Larra's presence at the door wouldn't protect her if he were to decide to harm her.

"Yes, my lord."

Robb studied her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. The silence stretched, heavy with unspoken thoughts. Drin held her composure, meeting his gaze steadily despite the tension coiled tightly in her chest.

Finally, Robb spoke, his voice low. "Respect and loyalty. Those are the vows we all swear, but they're not always easy to keep."

"I am aware, my lord," Drin replied softly. "But I am not someone who takes such promises lightly."

A flicker of something, approval, perhaps, crossed his features, only to vanish before she could be certain. "I must admit, you are intriguing," he said, his voice calm yet tinged with curiosity. "And I would like to see more."

Drin inclined her head gracefully, a practiced smile gracing her lips. "I am flattered, my lord."

Robb tilted his head slightly, as if weighing her response. His lips curved into an amused smile, one that hinted at thoughts she could not quite decipher. Drin felt the faintest stir of unease, though she masked it behind her serene expression.

The door creaked slightly, and both turned toward the sound. Larra stood there, looking nervous but resolute. Her presence was both a comfort and a reminder of the stakes.

"Your maid is loyal, too, it seems," Robb remarked, his gaze flicking briefly to Larra before returning to Drin.

"She is," Drin said without hesitation. "And I value her greatly."

Robb studied her for a moment longer, his gaze steady and unreadable. Then, with a slight nod, he spoke. "You speak well, Lady Drin. My decision is made."

He stepped back, creating a deliberate distance between them. "Tomorrow, I will speak with your father. I will ask for your hand in marriage."

Drin's heart skipped a beat, though she kept her expression composed. She curtsied gracefully, her gaze lowering in practiced deference. "I am honored, my lord," she replied, her voice soft but steady.

As she straightened, she thought she caught a flicker of satisfaction in his eyes.

He inclined his head, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Goodnight, Lady Drin. May your evening be restful."

"And yours as well, my lord," Drin replied smoothly, keeping her tone composed despite the turmoil of emotions swirling within her.

He turned and left the library, his steps measured and deliberate, leaving Drin and Larra alone among the silent shelves.

As soon as the door closed behind him, Larra rushed to Drin's side, her face a mixture of relief and apprehension. "My lady… did he truly mean it? He's going to propose?"

Drin exhaled slowly, allowing herself a moment to process what had just transpired. "It seems so," she murmured, her voice low.

"That's good, isn't it?" Larra asked, though her tone betrayed her uncertainty.

"It's a step in the right direction," Drin replied, her voice calm even as her thoughts raced. Robb's declaration had set a chain of events in motion, but the road ahead was treacherous. She couldn't afford to let her guard down, not with her father's expectations looming, Ramsay's cruel whims lurking, and the fragile matter of ensuring Larra's safety within the Stark household.

And then there was Robb Stark. She didn't know him well yet and men in power could mask their darker sides all too well. Still, the odds of him being worse than Ramsay or her father were slim enough to give her hope, a hope she couldn't let herself fully embrace.

"We should return to the chamber," Drin said firmly, straightening her posture. "We'll need to prepare for what's to come."