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 Two: Prepare
The next few days had blurred together for Iona, it almost didn't feel real. There were servants going in and out of her chambers, collecting dresses and folding them into a traveling trunk, or lining the trunk with shoes and jewelry. When they asked Iona for any preference on what she took, she tried her best to look pleased and answer the question as directly as possible, but the sick feeling still twisted at her stomach and she often had to excuse herself so she could be sick in private. She felt as if a thousand eyes were watching her and it shouldn't have been a horrid feeling, most people had happily smiles and offered their congratulations to her; however, that's when she felt even more sickened.
Eleonora refused to leave her lady's side, even for a moment. When Iona had told her about the marriage, Eleonora felt pride swell in her chest and she remembered breaking into a wide grin. Then suddenly, when she looked into Iona's blank stare she concern grew and grew until that's all that filled her.
"I have the happiest of 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."
Eleonora stood still, her hands suddenly not knowing what to do as she held the empty goblet that Iona had just drank. Then with sudden elation, Eleonora broke into a wide grin and the empty goblet dropped to the ground as she sunk to her knees in front of her lady.
"My Lady, this is wonderful news!" Eleonora clasped her hands around Iona's, giving them a comforting squeeze, "who is the lucky Lord that shall wed you? I'm sure you will look even more gorgeous on your wedding day!" The earlier sickness now made sense to Eleonora, Iona had been shocked at the news for sure!
Iona sucked in a shaky breath as she did her best to smile, "the eldest son of Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell, Robb Stark." Eleonora squealed with excitement and suddenly Iona felt so very alone, it crept into her heart with a sudden blackness and guilt soon followed after it. She had wondered why she couldn't be as happy as Eleonora was, perhaps she'd be a better fit for the Lord's goodwife; the empty thought left as soon as it entered her mind, like it had been carried away by the northern breeze itself.
"What gracious news my Lady! I have heard of the Stark's honor and loyalty to their family as well as to their friends," Eleonora stared up at Iona for the first time, giving Iona a toothy smile, "and I've heard about the handsomeness of all the Stark children! Second only to those of the Lannisters I hear!" When Eleonora looked into Iona's eyes, her smile faltered. Iona stared blankly down at her with a ghost of a smile, one that made her look more sad than her eyes did. Eleonora squeezed her lady's hand and whispered a question, "do you want to get married, my Lady?"
Iona was quiet for a moment and when she smiled Eleonora felt concern spread throughout her body, "of course I am Eleonora, it is an honor to marry into such an honorable family. I cannot wait for the wedding." The words rang so hollow that Eleonora felt compelled to embrace her lady, pulling her in tight and comforting her. Eleonora didn't hear her crying or sobbing, but Iona felt her face grow wet as silent tears poured down her face.
"My Lady, do you wish to bring your books with you?" One of the servants asked as they stood over a vastly empty trunk. The servant looked confused for a moment, but smiled nonetheless.
Iona offered a small smile, one that was beginning to be quite common in the past few days, "only my favorites. I am sure that Winterfell has its own stories to read." The servant curtsied and began to speak to Eleonora in a hushed voice. Iona ignored them and continued to work on her embroidery project she had started on months previous.
Several of the servants made comments to Eleonora that their lady was looking sickly, her skin turned into a ghastly shade of white and dark circles hung below her eyes. Eleonora promised herself that tonight she'd visit Maester Niclas to get a sleeping poultice for her lady.
Eleonora would never bring it up to her lady, confront her with the truth when all her lady was trying to do was escape it, but she could hear Iona moving around in the early morning hours and sometimes she could hear light sniffling.
Iona stifled back a yawn, "Eleonora will you fetch me something to snack on? Perhaps some berries, something light to fill my stomach until dinner." Iona wasn't actually that hungry, but she could feel her handmaiden's eyes on her and it began to irritate her. The irritation grew into annoyance and she tried to keep it in check, but she found herself snapping at Eleonora for no reason at all.
"Yes my Lady, I will fetch that and some tea." Eleonora curtsied and began to make her way to the kitchen. When she left, Iona felt even smaller that she was in the large room filled with servants cleaning and packing. She eyed several of them until it unnerved them and they left the room, but most of them stayed and simply ignored their lady's eyes. Iona clenched her jaw and began to grind her teeth, she wanted nothing more than to be rid of them all. Iona set down her embroidery project and stood from her chair, watching as several servants stilled at her movement since she had not moved since early in the morn. She watched as their eyes glanced at each other and then back to her; one servant was brave enough to speak, "is there something you wish for, my Lady?"
Iona smiled forcefully, which to everyone else in the room looked to be genuine and they relaxed, "could you fetch Ser Byron and tell him I wish to go for a walk about the town? Perhaps buy a few things as gifts for the Starks? I think it would be a lovely thing to do."
"Yes my Lady, of course my Lady." The lithe servant left very quickly, her eyes crinkled with happiness and Iona felt sick once again. Happiness, could she be happy being forced into a marriage? If her parents marriage was anything to go by, then no; she would never be happy. Iona readied herself as she clasped a tight traveling cloak around her shoulders and another servant helped to lace up her walking boots. By the time she was finished, Eleonora had made her way back and looked confused, "my Lady, are you going somewhere?"
"Into town with Ser Byron if he isn't too busy with assisting the Captain with the squire's training," Iona paused, "do you wish to join us?"
"Certainly my Lady, please eat something while I get changed." Eleonora escaped back into her room, closing the door behind her. Iona sat down at her writing desk, the wood etched with words and drawings from when she was younger, and began to nibble at the fresh berries and sip at the warm tea. Her stomach gurgled quietly and she felt it twist, so she stopped eating and only sipped her tea. Only a few minutes passed when Ser Byron showed up at her open door. He had one of those smiles that made his eyes crinkle with happiness and dimples placed deeply on each side of his lips, it made her want to smile. He was an older man, about four years older than herself, with black hair and brown eyes; his nose was crooked from a bad setting and his ears appeared two sizes too big for his head. Iona would've called him adorable if he wasn't more than twice her size with years of built muscle.
"My Lady, you requested me?" Like a gentleman, he stood just outside her door with his hands folded behind his back.
"Yes Ser Byron, I was hoping you'd escort me and my handmaiden to town to go for a quick shop." Iona stood with every ounce of elegance she had, trying to still her shaking knees. He smiled kindly, showing a missing tooth from his left side, "it would be an honor my Lady, when should we leave my Lady?"
"Anytime you deem allowable, Eleonora is getting dressed and ready for a walk through town." Just as Iona finished her sentence, Eleonora appeared from behind her door, sporting a twisted up braid and a dark, grey traveling cloak. She smiled graciously at Iona and sent a small smile towards Ser Byron. For years Eleonora spoke about Ser Byron with such admiration in her voice that Iona knew her handmaiden liked him, she made it quite obvious too. Ser Byron smiled back, "then shall we leave now, my Lady?"
"It would please me greatly," when Iona stepped forth, Ser Byron held out his arm for her which she easily slid her own into, "are you ready Eleonora?" A quiet yes, my Lady was the answer and they were off to walk around town.
Traveling down from Bolete Keep was a trek in of itself, the winding hill was steep and sometimes treacherous to climb down from. Ser Byron held on a tad tighter as they walked, even offering his other arm to Eleonora to assure her safety, which made the tawny girl flush. When they reached the bottom of the hill, Ser Byron ordered for the drawbridge to be left down until Iona and their party returned. When the drawbridge lowered, dirt clouded into the air like a puff of smoke before they crossed it.
It felt like years since Iona had come down to the town, but she knew that she had visited them only a few weeks prior. She tried her best to come down and talk with the townfolk, to watch them craft or eat, even play. The dirt road leading away from the Keep was a smooth one, so Ser Byron lowered the arm that was securing Eleonora as well as Iona. He slowed down a couple paces so he was directly behind them, far enough away where he couldn't clearly hear them talking.
"I see you still have a crush on Ser Byron," Iona teased slightly, her tone made it seem more serious than a joke, "you should just tell him." Iona winced at the comment because it seemed like a command. Eleonora didn't seem to concerned by her lady's talk, but smiled softly at the words, "I cannot my Lady, he is of higher birth than me. It would be disgraceful."
"Love is love, you can't control it." Maddie had told her that one time, after a late night bedtime story about a King and a peasant falling in love.
Eleonora was about to reply, but screaming countered it. Iona glanced up to see she was beginning to edge her way into the town itself and an elderly woman was screaming her name, "Lady Iona! Lady Iona, congratulations on your engagement my Lady! What wonderful news!" The sickness had returned, but Iona gave the woman a wavering smile, "thank you my goodlady, I will do my best to honor us all."
The woman smiled and nodded her head in understanding before departing back into, what Iona believed, was her house. Iona remembered the woman's face, vaguely; she brought up fresh vegetables from the farms every few weeks, she never thanked her for that and this might the last time she saw the woman's face. So instead of walking ahead into town, she walked over to the house and knocked gently on the door.
"My Lady?" Eleonora called out worriedly, but Iona just waved her hand dismissively. The woman opened the door, wiping her hands on her dirty apron and froze when she saw Iona standing there, "my Lady Iona!" She curtsied so deeply that Iona was afraid she had hurt her knees. Iona brought a hand to the woman's shoulder, smiling as kindly as she could, "please do not curtsy for me, I have come to thank you."
The woman had a confused smile, "for what my Lady Iona?"
"For bringing the vegetables up to the Keep. I noticed you have been toting the cart up yourself lately, has your oxen died?" The woman frowned slightly and escape Iona's gaze by looking down; she began fiddling with her apron, "I'm sorry you had to see such a shameful display my Lady, our oxen died a few months ago and we have been trying to trade for a new one."
"What is your name?" This made the woman look up, "Keira Olsha, my Lady?"
"I will see that one of the oxen that my family is getting from my marriage is sent to you, one of the young and strong ones; for thanks for everything you do." The woman's eyes filled with tears and she curtsied once again, "my Lady that is too much!"
"You work hard, my family must see that we treat those who work hard with honor; think of it as a reward for doing so." Iona felt an ugly feeling well up inside of her with when Keira stared up at her with happy eyes and a wide, grateful smile, "my Lady honors my family, thank you."
Iona coughed slightly into her hand and waved over Ser Byron, "Ser Byron please remind me when we get back to the Keep to talk to my father about this gift, I'm sure he will agree to it." Ser Byron nodded his head and bowed slightly as a way of recognition of the order. Keira smiled once again, "thank you my Lady, you are the brightest thing that we have to offer in Hemlock Grove." The ugly feeling doubled and her throat tightened, her lips faltered into a thin line before she brushed it off with another smile, "thank you my goodlady Olsha, I'm sure you'll hear word from my father when your oxen arrives. Have a good noon."
"You as well my Lady." Keira curtsied yet again and shut the door as Iona began to walk away. Eleonora was at her side immediately, "that was a kind gesture my Lady, she was very happy."
Iona thought for a moment, the word happy rang through her mind like a bell. The ugly feeling welled up once again and her stomach twisted, but she swallowed the feeling down, "yes, I am glad to see her smile."
It was quiet between them until they reached the market place. People passed by and offered their congratulations, smiling and bowing. Iona had tried to brush them off with a smile and a quiet 'thank you'. As time passed, the ugly feeling became too much and she excused herself to the outer rims of the town. She nearly threw herself to the ground, her breathing ragged and she began to vomit once again. Eleonora crouched down next to her, rubbing soothing circles onto her back as Iona released the ugly feeling onto the ground. She heaved and gagged, what little food she ate today now appeared as a pile on the grassen hill.
"Should we return to the Keep my Lady?" Eleonora suggested as Iona stood up, brushing the dirt from her skirts. Ser Byron hung back, guarding the two ladies so they could have their privacy.
"No, I came here for gifts and gifts I shall leave with."
"My Lady, I am concerned for your health. You have become so pale and you are sick so often - "
"Do not speak to me of these things," Iona snapped as the annoyance overthrew whatever emotion was there before, "you are my handmaiden and nothing else, I command you and you do not command me."
Eleonora was silent and Iona felt guilt bubble inside of her, but said nothing else as she walked back to Ser Byron, "let us go to the craft shop, I have an order to put in." Eleonora strayed behind her Lady as sadness built up inside of her; Iona was more than her mistress, she was her friend, but something changed inside of Iona and Eleonora knew that it was eating her up.
The farther into town they went, more and more people crowded around Iona and the larger the group, the smaller she felt. She smiled as much as possible, offering her thanks and moved on, but something seemed to be dragging her down. When they finally arrived at the crafts shop, the apprentice greeted them with a half toothed smile.
"Welcome to Master Hayman's shop, my Lady - do wish for me to fetch him?" The shaggy brown mop atop of his head made Iona amused, it had hung in strands in front of the boy's face and made him look younger than he probably was, "yes please."
He scampered off into the back of the shop, the smell of sawdust and wood filled her senses; it eased her to no end. She glanced around the shop at the projects the master craftsman had finished. There was a large, ornate statue of her grandfather standing in the corner of the shop, high on a pedestal and Iona mentally noted that someone had begun to paint it.
A cough stirred her out of her own mind and she turned to see Master Hayman standing before her. He was older than her father, wrinkles had taken ahold of his face and he was completely bald, "my Lady Iona, it is a pleasure to see you in my shop once again. I assume you aren't here for pleasantries however...?"
"You have assumed correctly Master Hayman," Iona replied returning a ghost of a smile, "I have come to place an order that must be finished before I depart."
"A wedding gift then? Showing the best that Hemlock Grove has to offer." His bravado and confidence made Iona stifle a chuckle.
"Of course Master Hayman, and only your woodworking skills would do."
"What is your order then my Lady Iona?" He had stepped behind the counter by then, fetching a piece of parchment as well as a quill and inkwell. Iona stepped forth, leaving behind her entourage, "if memory serves you made excellent toys, I still favor that wooden pony you made me for my ninth namesake day."
"Ah yes, the one with the moveable joints and real horse hair; that one was quite a feat you know, only one in existence." He glanced up at Iona with a smile of his own, like they were sharing a joke.
"I would like two wolves to be made, each colored differently; perhaps one grey and the other brown," Master Hayman wrote down the order as Iona spoke, "as well as wooden doll with orange hair, rouge lips." She was trying to remember how many children the Starks actually had. She remembered that they had two young sons, and two girls, but one of the girls was rumored to be more of a boy than the other. Arya if she wasn't mistaken, the one that looked like her aunt with brown hair and brown eyes to match; that is what the rumors said at least. If she was wrong, she could simply swap the gifts.
"Is that all my Lady?"
"Yes," she had other thoughts for the youngest girl and her... betrothed, "how long will it take to make?"
"About a week, if my assistant can be of any help." He glanced back towards the workshop area where the young boy was peeking around the corner, offering a shy smile, "that would be fantastic, I should be leaving by then."
"Perfect, I shall have them sent up when they are finished my Lady..." he trailed off as he handed the parchment to the boy, "you are welcome back to see the progress any time my Lady, if you wish."
"Perhaps I will." She offered another smile, leaving one gold dragon and several coppers behind before departing for the smithy. Eleonora and Ser Byron followed behind. She entered the smithy, which was nearly a block away from the craft shop, and was greeted by Smithy Stern himself. A large, towering man was sweating from the heat of the forge but he offered a smile when seeing her, "Lady Iona, what a surprise! How is your father?"
"He is in good health Smithy Stern, he sends his greetings to you and your family," two small daughters, a son, and a pregnant wife, "I am here to place an order." He wiped his hands with a blacken cloth, the ash from the forge smeared down the cloth and his leather apron, "and who would that be for?"
"My betrothed and a few of his family members." The word betrothed burnt her tongue as she said it and she swallowed the lump appearing in her throat. Smithy Stern laughed loudly, booming in the stoned forge-house. He slammed his fists down on the table separating them, "to show them the strength of our iron!"
"Of course Smithy Stern, your works rival even the best smithies in King's Landing for a far fairer price." The compliment made Smithy Stern bubble with joyous laughter once again, "you pay me many great respects my Lady, you will do fine in Winterfell!" The smile fell from her face and she quickly looked away, around the room as the heat creeped up her neck.
"So what is this order you wish to be made?"
"Ah, yes," Iona stumbled over her words as she glanced back to the Smithy, "I wish to commission a longsword and throwing daggers to be made," Iona knew they had a ward, Greyjoy and a bastard, but those gifts could be made later, "those must be finished within the week, but I have to other things I wish to be commissioned, those can be made within the coming months and sent to Winterfell."
"Throwing daggers, eh?"
"Yes, they must be lightweight but sharp. Perhaps a blackened color with a direwolf accent? I think that'd be lovely."
The Smithy laughed again, "throwing daggers aren't made to be lovely my Lady, they are made to be deadly. But, I will do as you say; it is a gift after all. The longsword my Lady?"
Iona thought for just a moment, "a longsword that's light and easy to swing, but deadly. Silver and iron with steel accents on the handle. The pommel should be made to look like a direwolf." Yes, a perfect gift for someone she hardly knew; play to the family, not the man.
"A stunning present it will be, for your good Lord husband I assume?"
Her breath caught in her throat at the question, "yes." A mere whisper, but the Smithy heard and smiled.
"I have two assistants that will help me get these done within the week! The other two gifts, my Lady?"
"One longsword should be crafted as well. The pommel should be made to be a kraken, for the Greyjoy ward. The tentacles should be sharp, so if he must bash the pommel into someone's face it will hurt," the comment made Ser Byron chuckle behind her, "the other sword..." she paused, would it be disgraceful if she made a replica of the other sword? She glanced behind her, "Ser Byron, what would you recommend for the... Stark, uh - "
"Bastard? I would not get him a gift my Lady. He is a bastard, not part of the family or a ward of them."
Eleonora looked down at the ground, begging not to be asked the same question from her Lady. Iona sighed and thought for a moment, "a dagger then. Sharp like a direwolf's tooth, shape it as such as well. Make the handle to look like a direwolf's mouth."
"A fantastic present my Lady, I will do my best and I will be honored to craft such fine gifts."
"Thank you Smithy Stern, have the two sent up to the Keep within the week."
"Of course my Lady, thank you for your business." They discussed payment and decided upon six dragons, for everything. Smithy Stern tried to talk down the price, but Iona would have nothing to do with it. She said it was something she could do for a man that she had grown up with, that she'd never see again. This made the Smithy frown and embrace Iona; she felt like a doll in his arms and it saddened her to hear him sniffle back tears.
"They will treat you well or I will spear them."
Iona smiled up at him and he placed a sloppy kiss on her hand before releasing her back into the fold.
They arrived back at the Keep just before sunset and Ser Byron excused himself from their presence, heading back to the guard's quarters. Iona knew why Eleonora stayed quiet, but said nothing of it. It was ugly of her to do so, but perhaps in some way Iona wanted to express how she felt inside - perhaps in the wrong way. They made it back to Iona's chambers and suddenly in the familiar room, without the dozens of servants made her collapse to her knees.
"My Lady!" Eleonora gasped and crouched down beside Iona as her Lady began gasping for breath, her chest heaving shallowly, "my Lady you need to breath!" Iona retched as her throat tightened and Eleonora wept; she had little knowledge of what to do for her lady. She merely took her into an embrace and leaned against the closed door, sobbing as Iona tried to catch her breath. The ugly feeling came back and Iona pushed back from Eleonora, "no, don't touch me! Don't comfort me!" Her commands were wheezy and catching in her throat, but Eleonora held her even closer; her embrace threatening to crush Iona. Iona whined and pleaded to be released as her breathing eased. She swallowed back tears, choking on them as her stomach twisted.
Eleonora silently wept as Iona leaned into her handmaiden and suddenly they were both crying. Iona wept loudly, the tears running over her cracked lips and she thought she sounded like a child.
"I'm scared," Iona finally lamented, "I'm so scared and worried, I'm angry and I - I don't know what to do Eleonora." Her voice was weak, scratchy at best and her hands wound into her skirting; her fists collecting the tuffs of her plaited dress and tugged at it, "I don't know what to do."
"You breath," Eleonora requested, "you breath and cry, let it all out." And so Iona did.
Iona groaned and rolled over, her hands feeling beside her only to find emptiness. Her eyes fluttered open and she noted that she was tucked into her bed, the furs wrapped around her; she didn't remember how she got into her bed in the first place. When she sat up, a hand ushered her up to sit. She noticed that the hand was wrinkled and thin, when she peered up she smiled lightly, "Maester Niclas, what are you doing here?" Her voice was hoarse, she strained to make it louder. Maester Niclas offered a gentle smile and began to pat her hands, "Eleonora brought me up here, saying that you collapsed," Iona grew embarrassed, "my best diagnosis is exhaustion, she's told me that you haven't been sleeping well for the past few days; any reason why, my Lady?"
Iona opened her mouth and closed it, similar to a gasping fish, "I've become anxious."
"The traveling or the marriage?" Maester Niclas had always had a keen sense of all going ons within the Keep and even out in the town. She swore ever since she was little that he could read minds, a childish notion that always seemed true.
"Both Maester."
Maester Niclas smiled, his wrinkled face bunching up with unsure happiness, "it is natural to feel anxious about something such as this. I'm sure you've heard that your mother cried for five days straight after arriving here and screamed at every servant that dared approach her," the Maester chuckled to himself at the memory, "when I attempted to approach her, she threw her seeing glass at me. I can be rest assured however, that you will not do that." He looked at her with a light glimmer in his eye, "you're a sweet girl, you have more manners than your mother. Hopefully your brother will take after you."
Iona smiled tiredly, "thank you Maester, I will do my best to honor you."
"No," Maester Niclas stopped her, "do your best to honor yourself, make yourself happy; you do too much for others and not enough for yourself." Iona looked down at her fingers, intwining them with each other and squeezing them.
"You might not believe me, but you need to be happy my Lady."
Happiness. That seemed to be the word of the day, something she couldn't stop thinking of, "happiness, huh?" Iona muttered to herself. Maester Niclas smiled to himself and stood up with little effort. He stopped at her writing desk, picking up a small, white bowl and brought it over before taking it to her lips. She glanced up at him, "a sleeping poultice." Iona drank the entire bowl and laid back down in her bed.
"Sleep now child, I will check you in the morning."
Then he left. Iona slipped down into her bed, pulling the furs up to her chin and then up over her head. She cradled herself in the warmth of her bed and wrapped herself in the furs; the fire crackling in the background filled her ears and lulled her to sleep. Perhaps she'd rest longer tonight than she had in the past few days.
AN: Thank you for all the reviews, follows, and alerts! They've made me soooo happy to see in my e-mail this morning :) I'm glad people are enjoying this fanfic!
scarlettsoldier: Thank you for your kind words and that is a huuuge compliment! I promise next chapter Robb and Iona will meet ;)
Nellaus: Since Hemlock Grove is located in the North, they are considered to be bannermen of the Starks; however, if bannermen are not called upon they can choose to not get involved in wars, battles, etc. That's how they have their neutral standing, if they are called upon of course they will fight less incur the wrath of the Starks! If the Rhys have a choice, they choose not to fight which lead many to call them cowards - this is a small synopsis, but it shall be explained further in the coming chapters (I hope this all makes sense!)
I modeled Willard Rhys after a kinder and younger Walder Frey (you'll see why in the coming chapters as well). He is bold and comes off as rude because all he wants is power and he's willing to do anything for it.
Lisa: Thank you for your review! I'm very excited to start developing these characters, especially all of my OCs and I hope everyone enjoys watching them grow! I've updated pretty fast, eh? ;)
Again thank you all! I hope you've enjoyed the new chapter, a better and closer view of Iona. Plus all of Iona's relationships!