Of Hemlock and Wolves
SyntheticProduct

Longer Summary: People often forget that Hemlock is not just pretty and dainty, a small flower that is pleasing to the eye; it is poisonous, but when you plant them in abundance, it's deadly. Hemlock Grove got it's name for the deadly accuracy of their bowmen, for their trained warriors, but also known because they were almost neutral in every war. Natives of Hemlock Grove would say that it was as simple as they wanted peace, but others called them out on selfishness; berated them for it. Besides their ferocious talents, there was also a softer side to the town; they were simple lumberers and miners, crafting things from what they gathered and sold them as specialties. The Rhys family controlled Hemlock Grove, they have for more than a millennia since it was built with their own hands. From generation to generation, the land and it's keep (Bolete Keep) was passed down and handled accordingly, but now that Willard Rhys has his hands on it he plans to gain more and more for his family, even going as far as going into battle against House Targaryen. Now was the time of peace, but there is much more power to be gained. Especially through marriages of convenience.
Robb/Iona; Theon/Sansa; Jon/Gretchen (another OC)

Chapter One: Happy News

Fog rose from the river, eerily covering the ground in a thick mist; the gentle breeze made it swirl and dance in the morning light. Hemlock Grove was bustling far before Bolete Keep even began to stir, the miners returned to the mines on the southern most hills and the lumberers gathered their axes to retreat back into the woodlands that crept along the safety of their large walls.
Hemlock Grove began to come alive and swarmed with people even though the northern breeze tried to slow them down. For being a town in the North, it wasn't cold but it wasn't hot either; it was a comforting warmth and the breeze brought cool nips to the air. The people of Hemlock Grove counted themselves lucky because they weren't as far North as Winterfell was, where rumors circulated that it was cold year-round with lots of snow and rain; although it did snow in Hemlock Grove, it didn't blizzard and the sun hardly hid behind the clouds. It was peaceful and everyone was thankful for that; it was often the little things in their lives that made them happy.

Bolete Keep finally stirred from their deep slumber, the servants were already up and preparing food for the Rhys family. The morning light carried the servant's feet faster, the pitter-patting against the wooden floors as they began to wake the noble family.
A light tapping at Iona's door woke her from her dreamless slumber, she rolled to her side and groaned. She could distinctly hear Eleonora, her trusty handmaiden, open the conjoined door that separated their rooms; the light rustling of her dress, pressing it out before opening the door. Eleonora greeted the other servant kindly, Iona could almost hear the smile in the tone of her voice, "Good morn Leanna, have you brought the rose-water for our Lady?" Their was a quiet yes and Iona stirred from her warm bed, watching the mousy, brunette set the steaming bowl on her dressing table. When the servant turned, she gasped and curtsied low, "Good morn my Lady! I apologize for not greeting you sooner."

Iona hid her smile, "do not apologize, if it looked like I was asleep I wouldn't expect you to greet a sleeping body; it would be a bit queer, wouldn't it Eleonora?" Eleonora smiled towards Leanna, "it is as my Lady says Leanna, no harm was done. Please continue your duties now, I'm sure Lady Bethally will be patiently waiting for her rose-water as well." Iona could picture her younger sister doing anything but waiting patiently. She was probably pacing around the room, screaming at her handmaiden; she was quite the drama queen. Leanna looked panicked and left the room, but not before curtsying and bidding goodbye to both Iona and Eleonora. When the door closed behind her, Eleonora was the first to start laughing which led to a quiet chuckle from Iona, "patiently waiting - surely you are sugar coating that one, Eleonora?" They both looked at each other and continued to laugh. After a quiet moment, a settling from the laughter, Eleonora helped her Lady from her bed and brought her over to her dressing table, setting Iona's robe around her shoulders.

Eleonora cleaned Iona's face with a damp cloth, wiping down her face and patting it dry afterwards, "your skin is looking a lot better today my Lady, less pallor than the days previous." Iona hummed in appreciation, "it's because you started ordering rose-water every morning for me, I thank you for that."

"Nonsense my Lady, it is a honor to help."

Iona had to wonder how many years it had been since Eleonora had begun to serve her and her family; she could scarcely remember how long it had been. She remembered when she was younger, around one and zero she had her first handmaiden named Maddie. She was a bit older than her mother at the time, her hands were often shaky and she stuttered quite a bit but she was more of a mother to her than her actual mother was. She remembered the day when Maddie became ill and had died only a few days later; Maester Niclas told her that it was a cold and that her elderly body couldn't handle that sickness, it gave up on her. She grieved for nearly a year, probably more as her next handmaiden made her way into her life. Cemrin was her name and she was cruel to the little girl. She was with Iona for for a few months before her mother dismissed her for being distasteful; in all actuality, Cemrin had started an illicit affair with her father and her mother became insanely jealous.
Eleonora was the last handmaiden and her friend.

"What dress do you wish to wear today my Lady?" Iona snapped her eyes up to Eleonora, who was holding two dresses. One was a lovely cream color with gold embroidery around the sleeves and edges; there were dainty flowers that flowed down the skirt and wound around the waist. The other was a dark green with the same gold embroidery, but there were no flowers nor were there any details on the skirt. Instead, it the intricate circles on the sleeves in brilliant gold thread; it was her house colors.

"The cream dress would be lovely today, the weather outside calls for something breezy and light." The sun was mid-way over the walls, so it was still early morn, "good decision my Lady, I will fetch your corset and undergarments." Eleonora did as she said and Iona stripped down bare until she slipped on her undergarments while Eleonora helped her with the corset. She would never complain out loud, but she hated the blasted things. She always felt faint after a few hours and sometimes when she sat it tug into her thighs. Eleonora chuckled as Iona breathed out deeply through her nose as they finished tying it off, "are you okay my Lady?"

"Of course Eleonora, fetch me the dress will you? I must hurry getting ready or Mother will release the hounds on me, breaking fast is her favorite part of the day after all." Eleonora complied with little talking before helping Iona into the dress, slipping it up her legs and pulling the lace sleeves onto her arms. Her expert fingers tied up the dress with little effort, "you look beautiful my Lady, a vision." Iona smiled lightly as she sat down once again before her dressing table waiting for Eleonora to dress-up her hair.

Eleonora poured a sweet smelling oil into her hands and quickly brushed through Iona's hair with it before braiding it. Although Iona's dark brown hair was long and thick, truly a mess in the morns, she plaited it. Eleonora knew her Lady's hair better than her own; she worked fast to pull the plaits into a milk braid, pulling a few loose strands to frame her prominent jaw.

"Finished, my Lady."

Iona peered into the seeing glass and smiled, nodding her head with approval, "thank you Eleonora you've outdone yourself." Eleonora's face flushed lightly and she thanked Iona for paying the compliment, "nonsense Eleonora, you are my friend and you deserve all the compliments in the world."

"Oh hush my Lady, let us go to the dinning hall to break fast with your family before as you said, your mother releases the hounds." With a few giggles, they left the room and hurried down to the dinning hall. As soon as they entered the hall, Iona grimaced at the screeching of her young sister, Bethally, "I don't understand why Iona gets her rose-water first, nothing could help with her horrid complexion; at least I have a chance!" Bethally was all of fourteen with honey-colored locks and bright blue eyes, the very splitting image of their mother and with the same personality.

"Iona, finally you grace us with your presence," her mother's voice was cold as she breast fed her son, Travan, who was only a year old. He was born with the same thick mass of dark hair as Iona did, but had the blue eyes of their mother. Perhaps this is why Iona was detested by her mother, because she didn't remind her of herself.

She looked much more like her father with dark brown hair that curled around in loose rings and wide, but dark green eyes. She curtsied at the threshold of the dinning hall, "good morn mother, father, Bethally," she smiled over at her small brother, "and Travan." The boy giggled, the laughter rang out like tiny bells.

"Sit down Iona, break fast with us and when you're finished you can help me respond to ravens in my study." Her father's face was stony with a small smile, glancing over at Bethally with narrowed eyes. Her younger sister huffed and started to stuff her mouth with buttered bread and eggs. Iona dismissed Eleonora quietly so she could break fast as well and start her chores afterwards. She sat down on her father's right side and began eating the fresh food that was cooked. She payed her compliments to the chef, who was glowing beside her and dismissed him with a casual smile. The servants brought her a hot cup of lemon tea which she gladly drank slowly as her father finished off his roasted pheasant breast.
Since she was the first born of her father, she learned the ins and outs of being the head of the Rhys family. That was before her brother was born, now she was learning the ins and outs of helping out a Lord with daily tasks; she was learning to become a good wife. Iona found the tasks boring, mostly reading through letters and handing them over to her father with a summary of what the important topics of the letter was. She would write for her father because his hand had become shaky and nothing but scratch within his old years, but sometimes they would speak about the going ons of Westeros.

"Come along Iona, we have much to do today and little time to do it," he stood from his chair and paused as he glanced down at his wife, "Julianna, will you come visit when it's about midday?"

"Of course my good-Lord husband, I will hand Travan over to the Septa and visit."

"Good, come Iona." Iona followed her father, hands folded against her thighs as they walked. Her father walked with a cane and there were rumors that he was falling ill, but Iona had yet to see any signs of illness. He walked with a hard limp that he received in the war, part of his foot had been completely taken off by a longsword as he road his horse. Now, he needed the aid of his cane to walk.
His face was scarred with long, flesh colored lines that ran along his face and he was losing sight in his right eye because of another war induced injury.
He was balding with wiry, dark brown hair and a crooked nose, "is there any particular reason why you're wearing that dress today?" His voice was hoarse and she watched as he licked his dry lips. Iona glanced down at the cream colored dress and looked back at him confused, "should I not have worn this dress father? If it is unpleasing, I apologize."

"Have you heard anything?"

More confusion on Iona's part, she didn't quite understand what he was asking, "about what father?"

"Nothing, never mind." His eyes departed from hers and he looked straight forward. His cane made a fine-tapping noise against the wooden floors and his boots made an even heavier thump. They reached his study in little time and when he pushed the oaken doors open, Iona almost groaned with trepidation; his desk was piled high with letters, both crumpled and finely straight, or still folded. The ravens crooned at the open window, waiting for their master to give them his replies. Iona took her place beside the plush chair which was her father's, picking up the first letter that had the seal of House Forrester. She read it quietly and summarized it for her father before he pushed the blank letter over to her. She wrote the letter, word to word from her father's mouth.

This lasted for more than a few hours and Iona had started to feel her hand start to cramp. She didn't complain, but instead she'd stretch her writing hand in between letters. They had gotten through more than a fair share of the pile, most of the letters asking for a trade agreement of their wood or ore; some asked for an arrangement of protection or even to bring their families together, in the form of marriage of their eldest children. Those were the worse letters to write because they would know her fine writing was not of her father's and she feared it would bring them embarrassment, but her father hardly cared.

"I will not reply to another Lannister letter, by the Old Gods they are persistent bastards with their heads stuck up too far into their asses." Her father's anger was evident and Iona knew why. When Iona had been younger, her father presented an arranged marriage between her and a young Lannister boy, Iona wasn't sure which one. They declined. Her father held many grudges, especially in his old age.

The door opened without even a knock and Iona knew it was her mother. She glanced up to see her mother standing regally on the other side of the large desk. She wore her hair differently from this morn and Iona could see that her mother wasn't expecting to see her here still, "should our darling daughter leave us?" Iona began to gather the skirting of her dress in her hands, waiting to be released from her duties; however, her father waved her to sit down and in turn, angering her mother more.

"What is going on Willard?" Her mother's voice was tight, "what is so unimportant you'd call me here, but keep her in the room with us." Her father coughed into his hand before sipping the wine from his goblet.

"I've called upon you to discuss something of importance, which involves Iona as well. Now sit down Julianna, unless you want no part in these important talks." Her father knew how to push her mother's buttons; it was quite a scene to see, her mother huffing before sitting down in an un-elegant way. She crossed her legs and stared forth, "what is it Willard?"

"As you know," her father coughed once again, "Iona started to bleed sometime ago, becoming a woman and since then we have been receiving many marriage proposals, asking for her hand and extending a so called olive branch, but we know it is for our mines. For our wood. For our men that help protect our town and keep."

Iona flushed when she remembered the first time she bled, at the ripe age of one and one. Maddie, the deceased handmaiden and second-mother, reassured her that she wasn't dying and that she had become a woman. After the bloody sheets had been washed, Maddie sat her down and talked about the things she would have to do when she gained a husband.
She remembered how Maddie announced it to her parents, like it was something she should be proud of. It was such a scary time for her and on top of it, she was embarrassed.

"What does this have to do with me?" Her mother said quickly while her father narrowed his eyes, "watch your tone with me Julianna."

"Father, she does have a point, what exactly is going on?" Iona asked quietly, earning yet another glare from her mother. Her father smiled softly at Iona, "such manners, we have raised you well my child." For the first time in a long time, he began to pet her hair. She stared up at him with wide eyes and an open mouth, "close your mouth you look like a damn fish!" Her mother scolded and Iona did as she was told.

"Now, Julianna you must watch what you say because this may be the last time you talk to your eldest daughter," Iona looked at him questioningly, "someone has offered quite a deal for your hand in marriage to their eldest son." Iona felt her heart leap up into her throat and she felt distinctly sick, "w-who father?"
Her father leaned back in his chair and collected a pile of letters from the top drawer, "read them."

The seal had been worn so she couldn't tell the sigil that marked them, she knew it was an animal of sorts and feared it to be from House Baratheon. She opened the first letter and read it over.

Lord Willard Rhys of Hemlock Grove,

It has been some time since we've talked last, I believe the last was just after the war had ended and I was asking about your health since your wounds were deemed dire by the maester on the battle fields. Now, you have not just one child but three which I hear congratulations are in order for your new son, Travan. I hear he is all of a few months old now - Iona raised her eyebrows at that, these letters had been going on for some time then; however, she continued reading - and your good Lady wife, Julianna is in good health. My wife sends her regards for her, as well as her congratulations.

This letter however is more than just congratulations for your new son. I have a proposition to make; a marriage proposal for your eldest child, Iona. My eldest son is now seventeen and if memory serves, your daughter is only a year his junior and I believe that this marriage would be beneficial for my family as well as yours. I have much to offer, but I will patiently wait for your reply before boring you with the proposal.

With the highest regards,

Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell

Iona breathed in so deeply that she started to go into a coughing fit, which amused her mother.

"Read my reply, my child." Her father's voice was demanding and she knew there wasn't much of a choice on her part. Her mind swam with questions, but she kept her mouth quite tight-lipped before she started questioning her father's ear off. She leafed through the letters and pulled out what looked to be the reply letter.

Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell,

My wife and I thank you for your words of congratulations, we are elated to finally have a head of house - she felt saddened by her father's words, but she knew she would never be enough since she was of the wrong gender; however, she couldn't help but smile faintly at her father's chicken-scratch of handwriting. This must've been before his eyesight had started to fail him and she had to write his letters for him - and I must say that I have entertained the thought of a marriage between my house and yours. The Starks are known to be very loyal and honest, something that speaks lengths of your family since not many families can call themselves that. Now that I have entertained the idea, I would like to hear the proposal you are willing to offer for my daughter's hand. She has a large dowry and with the strength of the Rhys family behind her; what can your house offer that we don't already have?

With the best regards,

Lord Willard Rhys of Hemlock Grove

Iona's hands were shaking even though she tried her best to tame them. Her vision blurred from tears, but pushed it down when she cleared her throat. She read through the rest of the letters with fervor, her eyes scanning over each line of handwriting before she noticed the last letter was written in her own hand.

Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell,

It pleases me that we've come to an agreement. I shall tell my family of this proposal within a weeks time and I shall send a raven soon after to let you know of all that has happened. When my raven flies back with your response is when I shall relieve the news.

The hand of Iona Rhys with the voice of,

Lord Willard Rhys of Hemlock Grove

She hadn't even realized what she was responding to, only remembering that her father distinctly told her that she needed not to read the reply out loud but instead he'd read it in silence; quite unusual, but she knew better than to question her father. She remembered what the next letter that Lord Stark sent because she was quite confused by it all.

Lord Willard Rhys of Hemlock Grove,

I patiently wait for that raven then, my friend.

Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell

She felt sick, her stomach clenching in odd places and her laid the papers down on the desk, breathing deeply to control the sick feeling washing over her.

"What do you think, my child?" Her father's voice was much different now. She stared down at her entwined fingers for a time before leveling her eyes with his; it was like looking into her own eyes, the deep green of his eyes briefly reflected her face as she watched a shaky, fake smile come to her lips, "it is an honor to represent our family in this union and his offer of oxen and gold was quite pleasing to hear."

"As well as the company of new guards, which will need to be retrained, he will be sending us, and the new farm animals."

This is what she was worth. She was worth four-hundred gold dragons, enough for new equipment for not only the miners but the lumberers as well and then some; sixteen new field oxen, fifty guards as well as six supplies of farm animals - enough to hold over six new farms, which were newly licensed this year. It would be perfect for Hemlock Grove, but for Iona it felt cheap.
She felt like a whore, bought and sold for a price. She was a high-priced whore.

Her dowry consisted of five-hundred gold dragons, a trade arrangement for their lumber and ore, a small guard of twenty-two, four trained-riding mares, and the strength of Hemlock Grove's trained warriors.

Yes. A high-priced whore with more than a little to her name.

"Are you sure you want Iona to wed the eldest Stark? Bethally is much fairer than Iona will ever be; she is much too average for the next Lord of Winterfell." Her mother's voice was risen an octave, it was shrill and horrid to listen to. Iona felt her neck nearly snap at the speed of which she turned her head to look at her mother. For once in her life, she felt saved by her mother, but insulted. Was she too average for such a Lord? She looked down at her hands; perhaps her mother was right.

"Enough Julianna," her father's voice was booming in the quiet keep, "Bethally is far too young and weak; her thin frame would not be good for child bearing. Iona is strong with wide hips and she has much a pleasing face. Bethally might be as fair as you, but Iona is as far as my mother." Iona felt taken back by the ushered compliment. Iona's grandmother, Flora Rhys, was known as a beauty throughout the North and she merely flushed red at the statement.

"You forget that I am every part of this decision as you my good Lord husband," her mother was seething, "I pushed her from my womb, birthed her without you even being present and she is every part of me as she is you." Her father's frail hands slammed against the table and her mother leaned far back in her seat, looking quite stunned. Her father pushed himself from his seat and Iona gasped, "father you must use your cane!"

"Silence girl," he commanded, "Julianna, you might be my good Lady wife, but my word is final. You have grown wild in your aging years, don't think just because you finally birthed me a son that you command over me in any way other than the bed."

Her mother stood from her seat, "you repugnant pig! This is a partnership, you do not command me anymore than my father did when I accepted this marriage!"

"This. Is. Not. A. Partnership," her father's eyes grew wild, "I own you, you are mine and as I am yours but you do not own me like I do you. Do not think I don't remember the nights you stayed in our room crying to leave this place, you never accepted this marriage - it was political so your family could sneak into ours! Now sit!" His voice cracked at the end of his yelling, but it got her mother to sit back down.

"Iona said it would honor her to marry into such a family, I take that as an agreement so I will send a raven to Lord Stark that she will be on her way within a few days of his response. Leave us Julianna."

Iona didn't dare to look at her mother as she stormed from the room, nearly slamming the large door behind her. She could hear her mother screeching from down the hall, yelling at a servant and said that she'd whip her for her behavior.

"Grab some paper and begin writing Lord Stark at once," Iona slipped a piece of parchment in front of her and shakily dipped the quill into an inkwell, "write what I say and nothing more."

"Like always father."

Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell,

The news has fallen upon this house happily and my eldest said she'd be glad to honor us in this union; I only hope that your son feels the same way and will honor her unwaveringly. When I receive your response, we shall head out a few days from then since it will take us a few weeks to reach Winterfell by horse and carriage. This pleases me and my family greatly that you honor us.

The hand of Iona Rhys with the voice of,

Lord Willard Rhys of Hemlock Grove

She folded the letter and sealed if with molten wax before tying it to the Stark's raven - a jet black bird with black eyes, but a ribbon of the house colors tied around its leg. When it flew away, Iona felt her heart shattering in her chest; it was like the raven itself was carrying away her freedom rather than a note.

"You are free to leave now Iona, go celebrate however you wish."

"But father, there are more letters to be - "

"Nonsense, I will send for my squire to come and write the rest. You go and celebrate this union, all of Hemlock Grove with surely know of this by the days end." She bid goodbye to her father before opening and then closing the door behind her. Her heart was still in her throat as she walked as calmly as she could to her quarters. Eleonora was standing before her wardrobe, hanging up freshly pressed dresses when Iona entered.

"My Lady, you have arrived back sooner than expected! Shall I fetch you some water?"

Iona didn't respond simply because she didn't have time to. She rushed over to her cleaned chamber pots and retched into it, vomit passing her lips and splashing into the silver pot. Eleonora clambered to be beside Iona, rubbing her back while bombarding her with so many questions that it made Iona's head pound.

"Shall I fetch the maester, my Lady?"

"No," Iona managed out past the heaving, "no, please don't." She emptied her stomach, she was sure of it because now all she could do was retch into the pot while nothing else came forth. Eleonora led Iona a chair before throwing a fur blanket over her shoulders, "my Lady what ever has happened?" When Iona didn't answer, she filled a goblet with water and presented it to Iona. She drank it greedily, spilling some past her mouth and down her face, "my Lady! Please, sip it before you start retching again." Eleonora's was laced with concern and Iona could only laugh, which drew more concern from Eleonora, "my Lady?"

"I have the happiest news to share with you my friend," Iona stared blankly ahead with a tense smile that made her cheeks shake, "I am to be married."

AN: After writing this chapter, I looked up Hemlock to make sure it was the correct plant I was thinking of only to discover there is a show called Hemlock Grove, a Netflix original if I remember correctly. My Hemlock Grove that I've created has nothing to do with the show, and I've fleshed out the place so much that it would hurt me to change it, so I hope keeping the name is okay! I have another GoT fanfic called The Crow & The Little Bird, which is a Jon/OC with a slight dash of Robb/OC so if you enjoyed this, or if you didn't, you might find my other fanfic as enjoyable!
I loved writing in the GoT world so much that I wanted to create a second story, I hope that this story holds up to people's standards because I've been thinking about writing it for a while now! Iona Rhys has been a pet project of mine for a few weeks now, at first she started out as a servant that would end up with Robb, but I thought it was too along the lines of my other work. I know there are more than a few fanfics of Robb getting married before the War of the Five Kings, but I thought why the Hell not? Hope you've enjoyed! If you have, please leave a review or a favorite, even a follow! It means the world to me that people actually read these stories! Thank you all x