Chapter 16

Jon turned to the door as Larra entered his chamber and immediately curtsied.

"My lord," she said quietly, her voice trembling.

"Please, come in," Jon replied, his piercing gaze softening as he took in her frightened demeanor. "Sit."

Larra obeyed, perching nervously on the edge of the chair opposite him. Jon's brows furrowed as his eyes fell on the dark bruise marring her cheek.

"Lord Bolton did that?" he asked, his voice laced with barely restrained loathing. What kind of man would strike a defenseless girl half his size?

Larra shivered, her gaze falling to her hands. "I…"

"It's alright," Jon said gently, his tone calming as Larra struggled to form words. He leaned forward slightly, his expression both patient and intent. "Lady Drin told me her version of what happened. But I'd like to hear yours."

Larra hesitated, her eyes flicking toward the door as though seeking an escape. When she finally spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper.

"Lady Drin only wanted to protect me, my lord. Lord Bolton… he…" Her words faltered, tears welling in her eyes. She swallowed hard, trembling. "He would take me back to…" She broke off, shaking her head as if the very thought was unbearable.

Her wide, pleading eyes rose to meet Jon's. "Please, my lord," she whispered, desperation thick in her voice. "I'll be your faithful servant, I swear it. Just… please, don't let them send me back."

Jon's jaw tightened as he processed her words. The fear in her voice, the way her hands twisted together in her lap, she wasn't exaggerating. He had seen enough of men like Roose Bolton to understand the weight of her terror.

"You're safe here, Larra," he said at last, his voice steady. "No one will force you back to the Dreadfort while I'm here."

Her gaze snapped to his, a flicker of hope cutting through her despair. "Thank you, my lord," she whispered, her voice breaking.

Jon leaned back slightly, his hands resting on the arms of his chair. "But this situation isn't as simple as just keeping you here," he continued. "The story Lady Drin told, about you being…" He hesitated, the word catching in his throat, "…close to me. That could cause problems for both of us."

Larra's face paled, and she lowered her head. "I…I never wanted to cause trouble, my lord," she stammered. "If you wish it, I can say nothing. I'll…"

"I'm not blaming you," Jon interrupted gently, but firmly. "This isn't your fault. What I need to know is whether you're truly comfortable with the story Lady Drin has told. Do you understand what it means?"

Larra hesitated, her fingers clutching the edge of her skirts. "I don't care what they say, my lord," she said finally, her voice trembling. "If pretending that… that I'm yours means I can stay here and avoid going back, I'll do it. I'll say whatever you wish me to."

Jon studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable. He admired her courage. Despite her fear, she was willing to shoulder the weight of a lie to protect herself.

But was that right? Could he allow this?

He sighed and stood, pacing to the window. "Lying doesn't come easily to me," he said after a long silence. "And it doesn't seem fair to ask it of you, either."

"I don't mind, my lord," Larra replied earnestly, standing as well. "You've already saved me just by letting me stay here. If this lie protects me, then I'll gladly bear it."

Jon turned back to her, his gaze sharp. "You've been through enough already. If you're willing to go along with this, I won't refuse. But I need you to know that I'll do everything in my power to protect you, no matter what happens."

Tears spilled down Larra's cheeks, though she quickly wiped them away. "Thank you, my lord," she whispered, her voice cracking.

Jon crossed the room and placed a steadying hand on her shoulder. She shivered under his touch, but didn't pull away. "You're stronger than you realize," he said quietly. "I admire that."

"You're very kind to say so, my lord," she replied quietly. "I won't fail you; I swear it. I'll serve you however you wish me to."

Jon's expression softened, though there was a flicker of discomfort behind his eyes. He took a step back, giving her space, his hand falling back to his side. "You don't owe me anything, Larra," he said firmly, his tone low but steady. "I'm not looking for your servitude. All I ask is that you stay honest with me and trust that I'll do right by you."

Larra nodded quickly, her fingers nervously clutching at her skirt. "Of course, my lord. I only meant… I'll do whatever is needed to repay your kindness."

Jon exhaled slowly, crossing his arms as he leaned back against the edge of the table. He regarded her for a long moment, trying to find the right words. "What's needed," he said finally, "is for you to find some peace. No one here will harm you, not while I'm alive to stop it. Lady Drin's story might keep you safe for now, but if it goes further, it could harm your reputation more than it helps."

Larra blinked, her brows furrowing slightly. "I… I don't care about my reputation," she said softly. "Not if it means staying here, safe."

Jon frowned, his jaw tightening as he pushed off the table and began pacing the room. "You should care," he said, his voice tinged with frustration. "Not because of what others think, but because of what it'll mean for your future. Lies have a way of growing, and this one puts you at risk as much as it does me."

Larra's gaze fell to the floor, her cheeks flushing with shame. "I'm sorry, my lord. I only want to stay."

Jon stopped and looked at her, his expression softening once more. He sighed. "I know. And I'll make sure you do. But we'll handle this carefully. If anyone questions us, you'll say as little as possible. Leave the rest to me."

Larra raised her head, a faint glimmer of hope returning to her eyes. "You mean… you'll still go along with the story?"

Jon hesitated before nodding. "For now. But I'll speak with Lady Drin and make sure we're all on the same page. The truth of this…" He gestured to her bruised cheek. "…and everything that's happened may need to come out eventually. Are you prepared for that?"

Larra swallowed hard but nodded. "If you think it's best, my lord. I trust you."

Jon inclined his head. "Good. Then go get some rest. I'll handle the rest for now."

She hesitated, clearly wanting to say more, but thought better of it. With a small curtsy, she murmured, "Thank you, my lord," before turning to leave.

As the door closed behind her, Jon let out a heavy breath, his hands bracing on the table. The weight of what he'd agreed to settle squarely on his shoulders. Lies, no matter how well-intentioned, rarely ended cleanly.

Robb managed to keep his expression polite as he wished their guests a safe journey back home. Drin stood by his side, her serene and flawless smile firmly in place. She looked every bit the perfect wife, and many lords had jokingly told Robb how much they envied him. But Robb knew better. She worked tirelessly to please him, likely out of fear rather than affection. The thought tightened his jaw.

He had tried to be patient, understanding that she wasn't ready to share everything with him yet. But after this morning, he wasn't sure how much longer he could accept her silence. Her desperate attempts to protect her maid from him, clearly believing he might harm the girl, needed to be addressed. It was clear to him now that Dreadfort's grim reputation was well-earned. Robb had known Roose Bolton to be a cold, ruthless man, but seeing the toll it had taken on Drin made the reality of her past even harder to bear.

And then there were the rumors about Jon and Drin's maid. Robb didn't believe them, not for a second. But he couldn't ignore the whispers that had reached his ears, several people claimed to have seen the girl leaving Jon's chambers early in the morning. The gossip had already reached his mother, and Catelyn intended to confront both Jon and the maid once the guests had departed.

All but Lord Bolton and his son were leaving today, and thankfully, they too would depart tomorrow. With her father gone, Robb hoped he might finally break through the walls Drin had built around herself and reach the woman beneath.

As the last of the guests mounted their horses and filed out of Winterfell's gates, Robb turned to Drin. Her serene smile remained in place, though her hands clasped tightly in front of her betrayed a hint of tension. She always seemed poised, always composed, but after this morning, Robb wasn't fooled by appearances.

"Walk with me," he said softly, his voice warm but firm.

Drin glanced up at him, her smile faltering for the briefest moment before she nodded. "Of course, husband."

He offered her his arm, and she took it delicately as they began to stroll through the courtyard. Servants were bustling about, clearing the remains of the morning's fare and tidying after the departing lords and ladies. Robb led her toward the godswood, away from prying eyes and curious ears.

For a time, they walked in silence. Robb could feel the tension radiating from her, even as she tried to appear at ease. He hated that she felt she needed to keep up such a front. Finally, as they reached the stillness of the godswood, Robb spoke.

"I need to understand, Drin," he said, his tone gentle but resolute. "Why you were so quick to think I'd hurt your maid."

Drin froze for a moment, her arm stiffening in his. "I… I didn't mean to insult you," she said quietly, her voice tinged with apology. "It's just… I feared the situation might escalate."

Robb stopped, turning to face her. "Because of me?" he asked, his brows furrowing. "You thought I'd harm her?"

Drin's gaze faltered, her eyes lowering to the forest floor. "It's not you, Robb," she murmured softly. "I'm just… not yet familiar with the customs in Winterfell."

Robb frowned, his confusion evident. "Customs? What do you mean?"

She offered him a small, apologetic smile and gently took his hand, her touch tentative. "Every noble house is different, as I'm sure you understand. I still have much to learn about what is expected of me here. But please believe me when I say that both Larra and I will always respect your authority and decisions."

Robb studied her closely, his frown deepening as he tried to decipher her words. There was a measured tone to her voice, one that suggested she was carefully treading around her true thoughts. It made his chest tighten. He didn't want a wife who felt she had to tiptoe around him, and certainly not one who saw him as a man she had to appease out of fear.

"Drin," he said softly, his grip on her hand tightening just slightly. "I don't want your respect because you feel it's required of you. I want it because I've earned it."

Her smile wavered, and for a moment, something vulnerable flickered in her eyes. "You have earned it," she replied quickly. "You're a good man, Robb. Better than… many others." She hesitated before continuing. "But respect is also a matter of duty, and I take my duties seriously."

Robb let out a slow breath, his frustration mounting, not with her, but with whatever had shaped this instinct to shield herself, to speak in measured reassurances instead of honesty. He wanted her to trust him, to feel safe enough to let her guard down.

"And what about trust?" he asked, his voice gentle but probing. "Do you trust me, Drin?"

Her lips parted slightly, as though the question had caught her off guard. She looked away, her gaze drifting to the towering trees of the godswood. "I do," she said after a pause, but the hesitation in her voice was unmistakable.

Robb sighed, his frustration barely contained. "Drin, you don't have to say that because you think it's what I want to hear. I know we don't know each other well yet, but I hope, in time, you'll learn to trust me."

She hesitated, her eyes searching for the right words. Finally, she spoke softly, "Of course, husband. You've been very kind to me, and I am truly grateful for that."

Robb's jaw tightened slightly at her carefully chosen words. It was the kind of reply that sounded polite and appreciative, but it wasn't what he was asking for. He wanted honesty, not gratitude. He paused their walk, turning to face her fully.

"Drin," he began, his tone patient but firm, "I'm not looking for gratitude or courtesies. I'm asking for something real. Trust doesn't come easily, I understand that. But I need you to tell me if something is holding you back. Whatever it is, I want to help."

He noticed her shoulders tense slightly as she carefully chose her words. The sight twisted his heart, reminding him of a frightened animal trying desperately not to provoke its master.

"I want to give you everything I have, Robb," she said softly. "If I fail to meet any of your needs, please, just tell me. I promise I'll try harder."

Robb felt a pang in his chest at her words. They were soft, almost tender, but there was something deeply troubling about them. Her response was more about obligation than trust, more about fear than love. It reminded him, once again, of the shadows of her past.

He shook his head slightly, his hands twitching as if he wanted to reach for her but held himself back. "Drin, this isn't about you trying harder," he said, his voice steady but heavy with emotion. "You don't have to earn my approval or prove yourself to me. This isn't… this isn't a test."

"Of course not," she replied quickly, taking his hand again. "Do you mind if we go back now? Lady Stark asked for me to join her."

Robb suppressed a sigh, realizing he couldn't rush her to open up. She needed time, and he needed to show her that she was safe with him.

"Yes, my mother mentioned she wants to address the rumors about Jon and your maid."

Drin tensed immediately, her composure faltering for a brief moment.

"It's alright, there's obviously been some misunderstanding," Robb assured, trying to ease the tension. "Jon wouldn't..."

"It's true," Drin interrupted, her voice trembling slightly. "Lord Snow asked for my approval, and I gave it to him. Larra hasn't done anything wrong."

Robb's eyes widened. "He… asked for your approval? For what, exactly?"

Drin hesitated, then spoke quietly. "He had become... attached to her, and she agreed."

Robb blinked, his expression shifting from surprise to confusion, and then to something unreadable. He studied Drin's face carefully, his sharp gaze searching for any sign that she was withholding more than she was saying. Her trembling voice and rigid posture told him this was as much as she was willing to reveal.

"I see," he said slowly, his tone measured. "And you're certain this was her choice? That she wasn't… coerced?"

Drin nodded quickly, though her hands betrayed her unease as she clasped them tightly in front of her. "It was her choice," she said firmly. "Lord Snow has treated her with nothing but respect."

Robb's brow furrowed as he processed the information. He trusted Jon implicitly and didn't doubt his honor, but this revelation was unexpected. Jon's reserved nature made the idea of him forming such an attachment seem out of character. And Drin's sudden admission had come with a layer of tension that Robb couldn't ignore.

"I'll speak with him," Robb said after a pause, his voice even. "Just to make sure he's prepared for what comes with this. You know how rumors can spiral out of control."

Drin's hands clenched tighter, her knuckles paling. "There's no need for that," she said quickly. "Lord Snow knows what he's doing, and the less attention drawn to this, the better."

Robb tilted his head slightly, his expression sharpening. "Drin, I understand wanting to protect your maid, but I need to make sure everyone involved is safe, including Jon."

Drin hesitated, then forced a faint smile, though it didn't reach her eyes. "You're right, of course. I just don't want this to become a scandal for your family."

Robb studied her a moment longer before nodding. "Neither do I. Which is why honesty and clarity are important." His tone softened as he added, "I don't want you carrying this burden alone, Drin. We're supposed to face things together."

Drin's smile faltered, and she lowered her gaze. "Thank you, husband," she murmured, her voice so quiet it was nearly lost to the wind.

Robb reached for her hand, his grip warm and steady. "I mean it," he said. "You don't have to handle this alone."

Drin nodded faintly, though her expression remained distant. As they turned back toward the castle, Robb was certain that there was far more to the story than Drin was letting on.