Chapter 17

Drin's heart sank as she stepped into Lord Stark's study. A servant had informed her that her presence was required, though they'd given no details. Inside, the room was already tense. Lord Stark stood with his usual stoic demeanor, Lady Stark's expression was harsh, and Lord Bolton sat with a faint air of irritation. Larra stood near the corner, pale and trembling, while Jon Snow's jaw was set in quiet defiance.

"I apologize again, my lady," Lord Bolton was saying, his tone clipped and displeased. He glanced toward Drin as she entered. "Daughter, it seems your maid has brought disgrace upon you. She is no longer welcome in Winterfell."

"Lord Stark…" Jon Snow began, his voice calm but taut with restraint.

"I understand young men sometimes have their… escapades," Lady Stark interrupted sharply, her tone like ice. "But I will not tolerate such behavior under my roof."

Drin took a steadying breath, her gaze flicking toward Larra, who was trembling visibly. This was exactly the situation she had hoped to avoid, but now it was spiraling out of control.

"Mother, please," Robb's voice cut through the tension as he entered the room behind Drin. "We should hear everyone out before making such decisions."

Lady Stark's lips tightened, but she inclined her head slightly, a silent concession to her son's intervention. Lord Stark remained quiet, his piercing gaze shifting from Jon to Larra, then to Drin.

"Drin," Lord Bolton said, his tone cold as he gestured to her. "Perhaps you can explain why your maid was found sneaking out of Lord Snow's chambers."

Drin's cheeks burned, but she forced herself to hold her composure. "Larra was not sneaking," she said firmly, lifting her chin. "She has been under my protection, and Lord Snow offered her a place to stay that was safe from… undue attention." Her voice faltered slightly, but she pressed on. "It was an act of kindness, nothing more."

"Kindness?" Lady Stark's eyes narrowed, her skepticism cutting through the room. "And yet this act has led to whispers across Winterfell. Such appearances are damaging, whether they hold truth or not."

Jon stepped forward then, his posture stiff but his voice calm. "Lady Stark, I will not deny what has been said. I asked Larra to stay in my chambers for her safety. And as for the whispers, I take full responsibility. She has done nothing wrong."

Lord Bolton's lips curled into a faint sneer. "How noble of you, Lord Snow. Yet it does not erase the stain it leaves on my daughter's house." He paused, turning his calculating gaze toward Lady Stark. "My lady, your outrage is perfectly justified, and I take full responsibility for my failure to accurately judge the girl's character. She will, of course, return to the Dreadfort with me tomorrow."

"Father, please," Drin interjected, her voice steady despite the pounding of her heart. She fought to keep her tone measured. "I believe there's another way to handle this…"

"Yes, she can continue serving Lord Snow," Lord Bolton said sharply, his voice dripping with disdain. "But as Lady Stark has already pointed out, that kind of behavior cannot be tolerated here." He cast a pointed glance at Larra, who stood trembling under his scrutiny. "Her reputation is in tatters; there's no place for her here anymore."

The tension in the room was palpable, every word from Lord Bolton twisting the atmosphere tighter. Drin swallowed hard, her mind racing as she fought to maintain her composure.

"With respect, Father," Drin began, her voice steady despite the storm brewing inside her, "Larra has served me loyally and with dignity. I will not stand by while she is cast aside over rumors."

Lord Bolton's gaze snapped to her, cold and cutting. "This is not a matter of loyalty, Drin. It is a matter of perception. A maid entangled in scandal cannot remain in a place like Winterfell without tarnishing the reputation of those she serves. She will return to the Dreadfort, and that is final. She has brought shame upon herself, and upon you as well…"

"I want to wed her," Jon Snow's voice cut in suddenly, firm and resolute.

The room fell into stunned silence as Jon's words echoed. All eyes turned to him, his posture unwavering, his face calm but resolute.

Lady Stark's sharp intake of breath was the first sound to break the stillness. "Jon," she said, her voice edged with disbelief, "do you understand what you're saying?"

"I do," Jon replied, his tone steady. He glanced at Larra, who stood trembling, her wide eyes fixed on him. "She doesn't deserve to be punished for seeking protection. If this is the only way to clear her name, then so be it."

"No one expects that from you," Lord Bolton snorted. "The girl is just a maid."

Jon's jaw tightened at Lord Bolton's dismissive tone. His dark eyes locked onto Bolton's cold gaze, unyielding and defiant. "She may be a maid, but that doesn't make her life or dignity any less valuable," Jon said firmly. "If it takes my name to protect her, then so be it."

Lady Stark stepped forward, her expression tense as she addressed her husband. "Ned, surely there must be another way. This… arrangement will create complications. It's impulsive."

Lord Stark, who had remained silent throughout the exchange, finally spoke. His deep voice carried a weight that silenced the room. "Jon, if this is truly what you wish, it is within your rights. However, understand the consequences. This is a bond for life."

Jon nodded without hesitation. "I understand, my lord."

"Lord Stark," Lord Bolton began, his tone taut with restrained indignation. "Surely, you agree that no one can fault your son for indulging in… amusement. But to suggest that he should marry a lowly maid? That would be beneath him, and beneath the dignity of your house. The blame lies solely with the girl, and I ask you to allow me to handle her."

Jon's fists clenched at Lord Bolton's words, but he kept his voice steady, though it was laced with barely concealed anger. "Amusement? You speak of her as if she's less than a person. That is where we differ, Lord Bolton. I do not see her as beneath me, nor do I blame her for seeking safety."

Lord Stark raised a hand to forestall further interruptions. His gaze shifted to Lord Bolton, his tone calm but unyielding. "You forget yourself, Lord Bolton. We do not cast blame so carelessly in this house, nor do we measure a person's worth solely by their station. If Jon sees fit to take this step, he does so with my support."

Lady Stark's expression remained tense, her lips pressed into a thin line.

"If this is truly what you want, Jon," Lord Stark said, his voice calm but firm, "then you will have my support. But I want to hear from the girl as well." He paused, his steady gaze shifting to Larra. "Speak plainly, girl. Is this what you wish?"

All eyes turned to Larra, who trembled as she clasped her hands tightly in front of her. Her gaze darted nervously between Jon, the Starks, and Lord Bolton. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft but steady, carrying a quiet determination.

"I… I would be honored to wed Lord Snow, if he will have me."

The room fell silent again. Lord Bolton's expression darkened, but he said nothing, realizing the matter was slipping from his control. Lady Stark's frown deepened, but she held her tongue, casting a wary glance at her husband.

Lord Stark nodded, his expression grave. "Very well. Jon, you have my approval."

Drin exhaled softly, relief washing over her but mingling with guilt and apprehension. This was her doing. In her bid to protect Larra, she had unwittingly set events in motion that now bound Jon Snow to her maid. While she admired Jon's honor, a nagging fear clawed at her. Would he eventually resent Larra for a union born of necessity rather than choice?

Drin resolved to prevent that. She would ensure that Larra entered this marriage with dignity and a proper dowry, enough to offer Jon fair compensation for the sacrifice he was making. Her thoughts turned to her jewelry, the only assets truly hers. Drin's mind raced, already calculating their worth. Everything else, after all, belonged to Robb.

The room slowly began to empty after Lord Stark's declaration, the weight of the decision still pressing on everyone present. Lord Bolton left without another word, his displeasure radiating from his stiff posture. Lady Stark lingered, her eyes narrowing slightly at Jon and Larra before leaving with a pointed glance at her husband.

Robb, who had been quiet throughout the exchange, shot Drin a sharp look, but before he could speak, Lord Stark motioned for him to remain in the study. Robb's gaze lingered on Drin, his brow furrowing, but he said nothing, his frustration simmering just below the surface.

Drin hesitated for a moment, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel Robb's eyes on her, and the weight of his unspoken questions pressed heavily on her. But she forced herself to turn away, knowing that she couldn't stay there, caught between the rising tension.

With a deep breath, she followed Jon and Larra into the corridor. Larra's trembling hands and wide, uncertain eyes tugged at her heart. Jon, as composed as he tried to appear, carried a tension in his shoulders that Drin could not miss. She had seen too many men forced into choices they might later regret, choices that could fester into resentment.

"My lord," she began softly, addressing Jon. "I… I can never thank you enough for what you are doing for Larra. You are giving her protection and dignity when so many others would not."

Jon shook his head, his voice quiet but firm. "It's not a favor, Lady Drin. It's the right thing to do."

Drin hesitated, then nodded, choosing her next words carefully. "Even so, I want to ensure that she brings something to this union. A proper dowry, something to show that this marriage isn't… one-sided. Larra has been more than just a maid to me, and I will not let her enter this marriage with nothing."

Larra's wide eyes turned to Drin in disbelief. "My lady, no! I couldn't…"

Drin cut her off with a gentle but resolute look. "You can and you will. This is my responsibility as much as yours. You've given me your loyalty, and now I will give you the chance to start this new life on equal footing."

Jon frowned, clearly uncomfortable. "Lady Drin, that's not necessary. This isn't a transaction. I wouldn't expect…"

"Perhaps not, my lord," Drin interrupted softly, "but appearances matter, and I will not have anyone think Larra was forced into this marriage without value. It is for her honor as well as yours."

Jon seemed to consider this, his lips pressing into a thin line. Finally, he nodded reluctantly. "If that's what you feel is right, I won't object."

Drin let out a quiet breath of relief, though her mind was already spinning with calculations. She would speak to Robb, request permission to sell her jewelry. It wasn't much, but it would be enough to provide something respectable. For Larra's sake, she would not let this union start with shadows of pity or shame.

"Thank you," Drin said softly, her voice steady despite the storm of emotions roiling inside her. She placed a hand on Larra's shoulder and gave her a reassuring squeeze. "You will do well, Larra. You're stronger than you know."

As the three of them parted ways, Drin felt the weight of the day settle on her. This wasn't how she had imagined things unfolding, but there was no turning back now. All she could do was ensure that both Larra and Jon had the tools they needed to make this unconventional match work.

Robb felt his frustration boiling over as he headed to his chamber. What was happening here? He had tried to talk to Jon, ask him about Drin's maid, but Jon hadn't been willing to give him answers. He had only said that the girl needed protection, but had refused to elaborate. Robb highly doubted that Jon would have ever approached Drin to ask for her maid's company. That meant Drin had lied to him. He wasn't going to tolerate it any longer.

When he opened the door to his chamber, he found Drin carefully placing her jewelry on the dresser. Robb's brows furrowed.

"What are you doing?"

She turned to look at him, her usual serene smile in place.

"I'm glad you're here, husband. I was wondering if I could make a small request."

Robb's frustration simmered beneath the surface as he crossed the room, his sharp gaze locking onto Drin. Her calm demeanor, as if nothing had happened, only heightened his agitation.

"A small request?" he asked, his tone cool, though his voice carried an edge. "What kind of request?"

Drin hesitated, glancing at the array of jewelry she had been organizing. "I would like your permission to sell some of my jewelry. Just a few pieces. I think it would be appropriate to provide Larra with a proper dowry as she enters her union with Lord Snow."

Robb's brows shot up in disbelief. "You want to sell your jewelry for her?" He couldn't help the incredulous tone in his voice. "Drin, she's a maid. Jon doesn't expect a dowry, nor does he need one. Why are you going to such lengths?"

Her smile faltered for a moment, but she quickly composed herself. "It's only right. Larra has been loyal to me, and this marriage was not her choice, it was a necessity. I want to ensure she enters it with dignity."

Robb studied her carefully, his frustration mingling now with confusion. "And what of Jon? You told me he asked for her company, that he came to you. Was that true, or is there more to this than you've said?"

Drin's composure wavered for the first time, her eyes dropping to the floor. "I didn't mean to deceive you, husband," she said quietly. "Lord Snow sought only to protect her, and I gave my consent. But the decision to marry her was not something I foresaw."

Robb took a step closer, his voice lowering but losing none of its intensity. "You didn't mean to deceive me, but you did. You allowed me to believe something that wasn't true. Why, Drin? Why didn't you trust me enough to tell me the truth?"

Her head snapped up at that, her eyes wide with a flicker of alarm. "I do trust you," she said, her voice laced with urgency. "But I also feared… I feared that speaking too plainly might complicate matters further. Larra's safety was my only concern."

Robb clenched his jaw, his emotions warring within him. "And what about us? Do you think hiding things from me will make this marriage stronger?"

Her lips trembled slightly, but she straightened her shoulders, meeting his gaze with quiet resolve. "I am doing what I believe is right, Robb. For Larra, for Lord Snow, and for your family's honor. If that displeases you, then I will accept whatever punishment you deem appropriate."

Robb stared at her, his anger dimming but not disappearing entirely. He wasn't sure what upset him more, the deception or the fact that she seemed so resigned to his judgment. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply.

"I don't want to punish you, Drin," he said finally. "I want to understand you. I want to trust you. But you need to trust me too."

She nodded, a flicker of relief crossing her face. "I will, husband. I promise."

Robb sighed and turned his gaze to the jewelry on the dresser. "If selling this is what you think is necessary, then you have my permission. But next time, Drin, don't make decisions like this without me."

Drin bowed her head, murmuring, "Thank you, Robb."

He studied her for a moment before lifting her chin. The look in her eyes was cautious, though she tried her best to smile.

Her fingers brushed against his hand gently, and she planted a soft kiss on it. It was all a survival strategy, her attempt to appease him and avoid the rough treatment she clearly anticipated.

Robb's heart sank as he caught the flicker of caution in her eyes, the kind of wary deference that made her every gesture feel rehearsed, not genuine. Her kiss on his hand was light, respectful, everything a dutiful wife might offer. But it wasn't affection. It was fear, thinly veiled as devotion.

He drew his hand away slowly, not wanting to startle her. "Drin," he said softly, his tone laced with frustration and sorrow. "You don't have to do this. You don't need to… placate me. I'm not your father. I'll never be him."

She blinked at him, confusion flashing across her face before she quickly masked it with her serene smile. "I know that, husband," she replied, her voice steady but too careful. "You've been nothing but kind to me."

"That's not the point," Robb said, his voice tightening. "I don't want you to act out of fear of what I might do. You think I don't notice? Every time I touch you, every time I try to talk to you about something difficult, you brace yourself like I'm going to hurt you."

Her lips parted slightly, her breath catching, but she didn't speak.

"I need you to be honest with me," he pressed. "Not just about Larra, not just about Jon. About us. About what you're feeling. Whatever it is you're carrying, it doesn't belong here, in this room, between us."

Drin lowered her gaze, her hands folding tightly together in front of her. "I don't mean to disappoint you," she said quietly. "I… I've always known my place, Robb. My role is to keep the peace, to support you. That's all."

"Damn it, Drin, you're my wife, not my servant," Robb snapped, then immediately regretted the sharpness of his tone as she flinched. He forced himself to breathe, steadying his voice. "You're supposed to be my partner. I can't do that if you're afraid of me."

For a long moment, she was silent. Then, finally, she looked up at him. "I'm not afraid of you, Robb," she said softly. "But I've known the realities of life ever since I was a small child. I don't have any illusions."

Robb's jaw tightened as her words sank in. The quiet resignation in her tone struck him more deeply than anger or tears ever could. It wasn't defiance, nor was it fear, it was acceptance. A lifetime of learning to expect the worst and endure it.

He stepped closer, his hands twitching at his sides as though uncertain whether to reach for her. "Drin," he said, his voice softer now, the sharp edges dulled by compassion. "Whatever you've been taught to believe about your place or your worth, it doesn't apply here. Not with me."

She offered a faint smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. "You're a good man, Robb," she said quietly. "I mean that. And I am trying my hardest. That is the truth."

Robb exhaled heavily, raking a hand through his hair. He wanted to shake her, to break through the walls she had so carefully built around herself. But he knew he couldn't force it. Not without driving her further away.

"I believe you," he sighed, glancing at the jewelry on the dresser. "And I can see how important your maid is to you. Keep your jewelry; I'll provide her dowry."

Drin's eyes widened slightly, surprise breaking through her usual composure. "You… you'd do that?" she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Robb nodded, his gaze steady. "I would. Larra's safety matters to you, and that matters to me. If Jon is willing to stand by her, then it's the least I can do. But Drin," his tone softened further, "this isn't just about her. It's about us. I want you to know that you can come to me with anything, your fears, your needs. I'll listen."

Drin's lips parted, as though she wanted to respond but couldn't find the words. She blinked quickly, as if to push back emotions she refused to let surface. "Thank you, Robb," she murmured, lowering her gaze. "I'll do my best to be the wife you deserve."

Robb stepped closer, reaching out to tilt her chin upward gently, his fingers brushing against her skin. "You don't need to be anything other than yourself, Drin," he said firmly, searching her eyes. "That's all I want."

She nodded, though her response was cautious. "I'll try."

Robb let out a breath, his thumb brushing lightly against her cheek before he dropped his hand. "That's all I ask," he said softly, stepping back to give her space.

As he turned toward the door, Drin's voice stopped him. "Robb."

He glanced over his shoulder, his expression open and expectant. She stepped toward him, a genuine gratitude softening her smile. Robb was stunned when she suddenly wrapped her arms around him.

"Thank you," she murmured softly. "Truly. I… I want Larra to have a good life. She deserves that much."

Robb stiffened briefly at the unexpected embrace but quickly softened, his arms coming around Drin with gentle firmness. He rested his chin lightly on her hair, surprised by the warmth of her gesture but unwilling to let it slip away.

"You're a good person, Drin," he said quietly. "Caring so much for someone else… it speaks volumes. But you don't need to worry. Larra and Jon will always have a home here. Jon may not be my father's trueborn son, but he is still his son, and my brother. He will be able to offer Larra security and comfort."

Drin relaxed slightly in his arms, though Robb could still feel the tension that lingered beneath her calm facade. "That means a great deal to me, Robb," she said softly. "I've always wanted her to find a place where she could be safe and… happy. Perhaps this is her chance."

Robb leaned back just enough to meet her eyes, his hands resting lightly on her shoulders. "It is. Jon will take care of her, I'm sure of it."

Drin gave him a grateful nod and pressed her lips softly against his. Robb held her close, his lips lingering against hers with a tenderness that surprised even him. It wasn't a kiss born of duty or formality; it felt genuine.

"Thank you," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "For everything."

Robb brushed a strand of hair away from her face, his fingers lingering for a moment. "You don't have to thank me, Drin. You're my wife. I want you to be happy."

"I appreciate that, but I am still grateful," she said quietly. "Kindness isn't something I take for granted. I hope to show that to both you and Lord Snow. I will never forget what he did for Larra."