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 its 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); Bethally/?
Chapter Ten: Vows
Be forewarned there is light smut at the end.
Byron
The courtyard was silent as he walked, a quiet purpose in his step. A note crumbled in his white-knuckled fist, fingers curling and ringing the parchment if only to bleed the ink from it. He stepped into the shadows as the door to the dining hall was opened, careful eyes watching as two serving girls scurried away from it while a third closed it with a firm thud before following their silent footsteps. Grinding his teeth together, he stepped away and hastened his retreat towards the stables. He kept his head down as he passed the Stark's guards, their eyes watching him as he knocked three times on the stable doors and then once after a brief silence.
He was beckoned in, the doors opening slightly as he slipped in and closed the doors behind him.
Ser Tern should still be at the Lady's door for the night and he would not be missed until the morn.
Iona
It was late in the night when Eleonora came and roused Iona from her sleep. The sun had not yet risen and even opening the curtains to her room offered no light, instead, Eleonora busied herself with lighting several candles as well as tending to the fire that had started to die down. Iona nestled into her furs as her bedroom door opened and a copper tub was placed on her floor, following behind were several servants that carried buckets of steaming water. Sleep was still deep in her eyes as she watched them pour the buckets into the tub, Eleonora following closely behind with flower petals and sweet smelling oils that spilled into the water soon after.
The nerves thrummed beneath her skin, today was the day she'd finally become a Stark. She breathed deeply in through her nose before rising from her bed, her furs securely wrapped around her shoulders as a makeshift dressing gown since the doors to her chambers were still open. Ser Tern was patiently waiting, his eyes burdened with dark circles, but he still offered a small smile as Iona nodded her head towards him. Eleonora ushered her to the plush chair that was situated in front of the fireplace, Iona sat as gracefully as she could and waited until most of the servants left.
Iona watched the flames dance inside the fireplace, the oranges and yellows licking the stone. She could've fallen back asleep given the chance, but the pitter-patter of footsteps behind her, as well as Eleonora barking orders, kept her awake. She was drowsy at the very least, the aroma that the bath steam was letting off made her muscles relax and the warmth of the fire made it cozy. Part of her wanted to crawl back into bed, but she had strict orders from her mother not to.
Iona hadn't seen her mother in almost a month, but even that wasn't enough time for her to change. Her blue eyes were still in their ever-present sneer, but as she entered Iona's chambers, her face seemed softer than it had been in years. She wore a beautiful dress made of a dark blue material, gold embroidery swirling around her corseted bodice and a curved neckline that showed a modest amount of cleavage. A snow fox fur pelt hung over one of her shoulders and her hair was twisted up into a large bun, a few gray hairs framed her aging face; she was different, but the same.
She stared down Iona as she rose from her writing desk, flattening her skirting, "Mother!" She greeted, "please have a seat." She walked over to the small lounge, the fireplace slowing down to a small ember and waited for her mother to sit first. She did so in a slight huff and not as gracefully. They sat in silence for a few moments, the only sound being the crackling of the fire and the wind blowing outside the stone walls.
"You'll be married soon." Her mother finally spoke, her voice was slightly hoarse. Iona nodded, not quite sure where the statement was going to lead the conversation.
"I am sure the Septa has told you of your wifely duties you must perform," Iona almost choked, her eyes widening, but she nodded all the same, "good, but as your mother, I must offer my own advice." Eleonora took that moment to re-enter, presenting a platter of wine and assorted fruits. The conversation immediately died down and Iona beckoned Eleonora over, letting her handmaiden set down the platter and pour the wine before excusing herself to her quarters. Iona lifted the goblet of wine to her lips, her mother mimicking her.
"Your father and I took great care of never letting you be alone with a man, so I know your maidenhead is still intact," her blunt statement made the heat rise into Iona's cheeks and she drowned her embarrassment with another gulp of wine, "but something that my Septa never told me was that not every girl bleeds her first time. Some girls only have a spot of blood, others there is no evidence of the marriage ever being consummated. I experienced such a thing with your father," Iona certainly didn't want to hear about her parent's bedtime rituals, but nevertheless persisted, "I didn't even bleed, not a spot. I had never laid with another, I was a nervous wreck, pacing the room after your father fell asleep."
With those words, her mother placed her half-empty goblet down on the platter and leaned forward. Iona did the same, watching as her mother captured her hands with her own, squeezing them as if her life depended on it, "if that happens, as your handmaiden to bring a decanter of wine and water. Spread the wine across the sheets, just enough to make it believable and lay in it, let it dry. Drink half the water and give the wine to your handmaiden, tell her it is to celebrate the joining of two houses."
"Mother..." It would be a great lie, not only to her husband but to her new house.
Iona winced as her mother's nails dug into her skin, "it will keep you alive, child." She let go, pressing herself back into the chair and breathed deeply. Iona sat with a rigid posture, her hands gathering the material of her skirt and twisted it. She gnawed at her bottom lip, processing the information that her mother just gave her.
"Also, the day of your ceremony, Hewelin Sym is going to be painting your portrait. It will take from morning until midday and your ceremony will begin before nightfall in the Godswood. There will be the celebration feast and then the bedding, you'll perform your duties accurately I hope."
After she spoke, Iona leaned back in her chair as her nerves ate at her. It made her jittery, her stomach curled and knotted inside her abdomen and sinking down into her stomach, a pit forming and clenching as her thoughts raced.
She grabbed her goblet and swallowed the rest of her wine, licking her burning lips as she locked eyes with her mother, "I will try mother."
"You'll do more than that, you have the blood of the Rhys and the Freys running through you; do you know how many children my brother has? How many siblings your father had?" Iona didn't want to say anything, didn't want to point out that she only had three children and that mattered much more than what she had just pointed out. Iona just nodded her head once and sank into an awkward silence as they both drank and ate.
"My lady, your bath is ready." Iona snapped her head up as Eleonora placed a gentle hand on her head. She smiled up at the tawny woman, shrugging off her furs as she stepped towards the tub. Another servant, a petite woman that barely rose to Iona's shoulders, swept by her and picked it up as Iona slipped her chemise over her head. Two other servants, a heavier-set and an aged woman, helped her into the tub. The water reddened her skin, burning slightly as she sat.
The older servant grabbed a bowl, filling it up with the bath water and pouring it over Iona's tilted back head. The heavier-set servant set to work on her hands, running a nail brush underneath her nails and began to clean them. Iona leaned back against the curve of the tub, leaning down into the water as her hair was lathered in sweet smelling oils and her feet were massaged by the petite servant at the end of the tub. Iona peeked out from her lashes, watching as Eleonora steamed her wedding dress over a hot bowl of water. She pressed out any wrinkles, smoothing it down and placing any jewelry that Iona had decided on.
It was a few moments filled with relaxation and Iona could almost feel herself melt into the water. The older servant was humming to herself as she ran her fingers through Iona's curls, tugging at the knots that had appeared from sleep, and the heavier-set servant struck up a conversation with her. Iona learned that her name was Yvonne and she had served the Stark's since she was a girl and that she had come from Hemlock Grove, originally. It made Iona excited to learn that someone else was here that had come from her home, someone that now called Winterfell home.
"Lady Iona, Ser Hewelin Sym will be arriving soon to begin your portrait. We should probably get you dried off soon. Yvonne, Tephania, Iseldis, are you done?" A chorus of 'yes ma'ams' came from the three servants as they helped Iona rise up out of the tub. Yvonne wrapped her dressing gown around her before Iona settled down in front of her seeing glass. Eleonora started right away, combing through her wet curls and rubbing a sticky oil through it. Eleonora began to pin certain strands of hair back before Iona stopped her.
"I would like to have my hair done like my mother's on her ceremony day." Eleonora's hands froze slightly, stilling over the shell of Iona's ear as she smiled softly, "of course, my Lady." Iona gave Eleonora a look, but Eleonora just shook her head and inclined her head to the side, towards the servants busying themselves with polishing the jewelry and setting out her cloak. Iona chuckled, knowing exactly what Eleonora meant. She wouldn't call her so casually in front of the servants, but Iona couldn't help but feel slightly deflated.
Her fingers were shaking from her nerves, twisting them together and all she wanted was a friend to calm her. Eleonora was pinning up her hair, coiling the curls up into a high-knotted bun. A few strands of hair stayed hanging down by either side of her face, framing it perfectly. As the hair started piling up atop her head, her neck started to ache slightly and she had to wonder how her mother kept this hairstyle up for her entire ceremony. Her heart hammered against her chest, rattling her bones and her scar burned as she thickly swallowed.
"Does this look presentable?" Iona leaned forward, staring at her reflection carefully. It was odd, she always thought she looked more like her father, but her reflection reminded her of the portrait of her mother hanging in the greeting hall of Bolete Keep. She looked over her shoulder at Eleonora, "it's perfect." She whispered, feeling herself smile softly at her friend. Eleonora nodded to herself before turning around to gather up the wedding dress. Iona stood almost immediately afterward, shrugging off her dressing gown and revealing her skin to the cool air. Goosebumps arose across her chest and down her arms, she shifted slightly as Eleonora kneeled down and helped Iona into the dress. The material was cool against her skin but warmer than the air in the room; it was soft, gliding up her legs and over her hips.
A corset was presented to Eleonora and Iona turned around, wrapping it around her waist and slowly began to cinch it. Iona leaned against the vanity, allowing Eleonora to lace it tighter and Iona had to suck in her breath as the last few laces were tightened. Eleonora's cracked fingers tucked in the lacing before she slowly helped Iona into the lace sleeves. The hanging sleeve was made of soft lace, a small floral pattern, and the same material made the tall collar, frilled out slightly to frame her square jaw. As Eleonora primped the dress, Yvonne came forward to button up the dress. Tephania or Iseldis, Iona couldn't be sure which one was which, knelt down to help slide on the white heeled shoe. It elevated her slightly, the hope was that the train of the dress didn't drag too much in the dirt and stain.
The other servant, the petite one, stood atop the small stool of the vanity to gently place a small headband made of silver and decorated with pearls and small precious gems. It laid softly on the crown of her scalp, touching the curled bun and pressing into it slightly.
"Let's press some rouge into your lips and cheeks," Eleonora said, turning around and almost banging into the petite servant that was standing on the stool before grabbing the rouge from the wooden vanity. She opened the compact and pressed her ring finger down into it, sliding across Iona's lips and then against her cheeks before blending it down. There was a knock at the door that sent the servants into a flutter. The tub was still present, still filled with cool water and they had yet to put the jewelry on. Eleonora quieted them down before answering the door. Iona stood still, not turning towards the door.
"Ser Sym, I must beg for your mercies, the Lady is not quite ready."
Iona heard a gruff guffaw, "matters little to me, as your finishing up your duties, I will set up my paints." Eleonora shut the door quietly and Iona turned slightly, bringing her hands against her stomach, and gave her best smile. Hewelin Sym was the same painter that had done her mother's portrait before she was married, the last image before she became a Rhys and now it was her turn. He was an elderly man with a full beard that was neatly groomed, but he had an obvious hump on his back that made him almost curl into himself. He had under his arm, a canvas, and under the other was an easel; he carried a small case that Iona could only assume was his paints. He made a point to stop and stare at her from head to toe, but it wasn't an uncomfortable glance. It was more of an appraising look, like the one she would get from a seamstress before she ordered a new dress or gown.
It hadn't been the first time she had met him, she could barely remember a time where he had painted her on her sixth name day.
He cracked a smile, showing his yellowing teeth, "you've grown since I've last seen you and now look at you, you're getting married. Should've introduced you to my nephew sooner." He laughed at his own little joke as he began setting up his own little workspace.
"You're looking well, Ser Sym."
He snorted, "call me Hewelin, I was only given the title Ser from your father and it was because I painted your mother beautifully." Iona chuckled lightly and the door opened once more as servants poured in, carrying buckets to start to dump the water from the tub. Iona watched diligently, standing straight as the servants glanced over at her and she returned each glance with a smile. She could hear them giggling as they went down the corridor to empty their buckets. It was only when the tub was slightly filled that both Ser Tern and Byron entered, taking the tub out of the room.
"Now, Lady Iona, please have a seat and let us - where is your veil?"
Iona glanced out the window as she spoke, watching as the sun started to peer over the hills, "we weren't sure whether or not you'd like it on or off."
"On, of course, it is part of the traditional garb." Eleonora curtsied slightly towards Hewelin before rushing over towards the bed, picking up the thin veil gently and coming over to place the veil underneath the headband. She tucked it in softly, being careful of Iona's styled hair before placed her hands on her shoulders, "all done, my Lady." Iona nodded.
"Now where would you like me to be, Hewelin?" When she said his name, he chuckled slightly and placed his canvas on his easel. He came over towards Iona, throwing open the window and letting the chilly morn air in. She shivered slightly and Eleonora went immediately over to the fireplace, stoking it and adding on another log. Hewelin took a moment to look down into the courtyard, and then placing his hands on Iona's shoulders. He placed her in front of the window, then turned her, and then again. He hummed slightly and brought his hand up to her chin, tilting it slightly.
"You, girl," he snapped his fingers and gestured to Eleonora, "bring that chair over here." Eleonora followed his orders even though Iona grew irritated at how he treated her friend but stuffed her annoyance down as he gathered up his equipment and brought it over to the window. Once the chair was in the spot, the exact spot that Hewelin specified, Iona sat down. She smoothed out her gown while Eleonora fluffed her veil.
The sunlight was glaring straight into her eyes and she had to squint to see Hewelin sitting on his stool, "don't squint." He snapped and began to use charcoal, spreading it across the canvas as Iona tried to relax into her chair, "back straight." He snapped, again. Iona knew it was going to be a long morn.
Robb
It was midday when Robb was presented to his mother to give her final approval. He was dressed in his finest clothes, the material was soft and light, but he wished they were slightly warmer. It was a chilled day, after all. They were brand new, only being commissioned when Iona had first arrived; his mother couldn't wait any longer to get his wedding garb, and she cried while he was being fitted. Now, she had tears in her eyes as her hands patted the lapels of his jerkin.
"I can't believe my little boy is getting married," she embraced him, squeezing him tightly and he gladly returned the gesture, "you look so much like your father, except for the Tully red in your hair." Her hand went to his hair, brushing it back from his forehead while the other patted his cheek tenderly. He was made to shave for the ceremony, which he detested more than anything. Although he was deeply annoyed by the pestering of his groomsmen this morn, he couldn't imagine what Iona was going through. Not only had he not seen her the night previous, thanks to a superstition that said if the groom saw the wife before the wedding the marriage would be doomed, but he heard the servants going pass his room late last night; she must've been up before the sun.
"It'll only be a few more passing moments until the ceremony begins, are you ready?" Robb hummed to his mother's question.
"As ready as I'll ever be." He stated as confidently as he could. He was only one and seven, he felt too young to be married, but he knew that others younger than himself were married already. His fingers went to his lapels suddenly, smoothing it down where his mother had touched. She was smiling up at him, an almost girlish look in her eyes. When she opened her mouth to speak again, his father called out to them: "it is time!" Robb could've choked at his own breath at that point, his mind was racing with thoughts even as they walked towards the Godswood. His mother had her arm entwined with his and he followed his father through the winding path towards the Weirwood. Both bannermen and friends alike followed the trio, behind them was Iona's mother, Lady Julianna Rhys, and her youngest daughter, Bethally, who carried Trevan.
Directly behind them were the rest of his siblings and Theon, as he was the Stark's ward, but Jon was behind the bannerman, stalking through the wood with a grimace on his face.
He noted that Eleonora, Iona's handmaiden, was being escorted by one of Iona's guards. She was wearing a fine dress, a soft pink color that managed to bring out the orange in her hair even more. She was flushed, quietly looking over her shoulder every so often. He hadn't even noticed he was standing before the Weirwood until his father laid his hand on Robb's shoulder, "are you ready?"
Robb huffed slightly, embarrassed for being in his thoughts and nervous for what was to come, "you are the tenth person to ask me that today." His father chortled and walked with him towards the Weirwood, "it is a big day."
"I know, but I can't help but feel..." Robb's words trailed off as he stared at the face in the tree, already praying to the Gods for his nerves to pass.
"Nervous? Every man and woman feels nervous before this everlasting joining. You are before the Gods now and the Gods can see your intentions and beliefs believe in that." If his father's words were meant to comfort him, he did an awful job. Robb could feel himself tremble, his knees shook, and he prayed that others mistook it for the cold seeping into his body. Even his cloak couldn't soak up the chill in the air.
Robb stopped just in front of the Weirwood, on the ground were two cushions made of a rich material with the Stark colors, which were meant for the prayer. Candles were lit around the Godswood, torches plunged into the ground as the sun slowly started to set. There was a rug, made of a silver color, that parted the crowd and grouped them together into two separate crowds. Robb saw many familiar faces and he chuckled when he saw Lady Mormont push her way forward until she was in the front and standing beside Lord Bolton.
There was a small band there as well, off a ways with a harp and a lute, and waiting for some cue. Robb could feel the sweat start to pool under his gloves and sliding down his neck. It was when the band started to play, Robb started to fidget. He pulled on the collar of his cloak and stared straight ahead, towards the clearing and turning his back on the Weirwood for now. His breathing became shallower and caught in his throat as Lord Rhys entered the clearing, and on his arm was a vision.
He was gawking, he knew, but she looked beautiful. The white of her gown drew out the darkness in her hair and the green in her eyes, even though they were hidden behind a sheer veil. Robb twisted his hands together before relaxing, breathing out harshly as they stepped little by little towards Robb. Iona caught his eyes and she smiled, he could only return it as the heat rushed up into his cheeks. He was going to be a married man.
Her maiden's cloak hung snuggly at her shoulders, her house colors proudly shown as she was only a few steps away from him.
"Who comes? Who comes before the Gods?" Robb called out, trying to contain the nerves in his voice.
"Iona of House Rhys comes here to be wed. A woman trueborn and noble, she comes to beg the blessings of the Gods. Who comes to claim her?"
Robb felt his throat tighten, "Me, Robb of House Stark, the firstborn of Eddard Stark. I claim her. Who gives her?" He could distinctly hear his mother let out a small sob at those words.
"Willard of House Rhys, father to Iona Rhys," Lord Rhys spoke, his booming voice echoing in the clearing before he turned towards his daughter, "Lady Iona Rhys, will you take this man?" Robb held his breath as Iona turned towards her father, gathering his hands with hers. The stark size difference, in any other situation, would've made Robb laugh, but it was tender. He heard Lord Rhys clear his throat and Robb could've sworn that there was a tear, but as the light of the torches flickered, the tear was gone.
"I take this man." Her voice was soft, swept away into the night as everyone seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief, even Robb. Robb held out his hand towards her and Iona reluctantly let go of her father's hand, taking hold of Robb's. He led her to the Weirwood, stopping at the cushions before kneeling down on them. Iona followed while he helped stabilize her. They both bowed their heads after letting go of each other's hand and offered their prayers to the Gods.
Robb prayed for his family, he prayed for his soon-to-be wife's family. He prayed for Iona and he prayed for much more. It was a long silence, he peered over towards Iona with his head bowed, and found that she was staring back at him. Her cheeks puffed up, containing her laughter as she ducked her head back down. After a little while, they both rose and Iona stood before him. His hands went to the clasps of her cloak, releasing them one by one before letting the cloak fall into his hands. He folded it, placing it down on the cushion before taking another folded cloak, this one with the Stark's sigil embroidered on the back, and pulling it over her shoulders. He clasped it down, smoothing out the fur before smiling down at her. He took her veil and pulled it over her head, revealing her red stricken face. He leaned down and placed a chaste kiss on her lips and after he pulled back, he saw she chased his lips back and it made him smile. The crowd broke into cheers as Iona pulled back, her face even redder than before.
Lord Rhys stepped forward, a giant grin on his face as he clapped his hands together, "No longer is she Iona Rhys, but Iona Stark!" Lady Mormont clapped Lord Rhys on his back, congratulating him. Robb was offered many congratulations, as was Iona, but one face he didn't see was that of Lord Roose Bolton.
Unsurprisingly, Lord Jon Umber paraded forth and gleefully slapped Robb on the shoulder, "you have a fine wife, little lordling!" Robb couldn't help the chuckle that left his mouth as he thanked Lord Umber. Iona bashfully thanked him for the compliment, "such a timid one, aren't you?" The size different between Iona and Lord Umber was astonishing, while she was only a little shorter than himself, it was almost comical. He was much like his other name Greatjon because there was no one taller than him and Iona pulled closer towards Robb as he spoke.
Even as they made their way back towards the keep, Lord Umber kept them company. Iona's hand gently slid into Robb's and even though Robb's hands were gloved, he could feel the chill from her hands. He walked with a purpose, trying to hurry inside to warm her up. He was complaining earlier that he was chilled to the bone, but she was shaking and her skin looked paler than it was before. She laughed merrily as he nearly broke into a sprint, wrapping herself around Robb's hand as the party followed them inside.
The dining hall was warm, especially compared to the outside, and his father was the first to sit down. Robb waited for his mother, then Iona's parents to sit, before pulling a seat out for Iona and guiding her in. She shrugged off her cloak now, letting it settle down in the chair before leaning over to Robb as he sat, pressing her lips against his cheek.
"You minx." Robb teased as he turned towards her, but Iona could only chuckle.
"You tease, good-lord husband, but I was shaking from nerves earlier and now it feels like it was all for not." Robb returned her laughter as he pulled off his gloves, entwining his fingers with hers. A shiver went straight down his spine at how cold her hands were against his.
"Are you sure it was nerves and not from the cold?"
"I'm sure it was both."
The hall erupted in merriment, cheering and screaming as the food was brought out in bulk. Of course, Iona had told Catelyn to make sure that the boar was roasted as well as the stags that were caught in the hunt earlier and true to Catelyn's word, there was also a plethora of fruits decorating platters and dishes. Foreign fruits were brought out that was sent from Dorn, as well as Dornish wine. Iona and Robb were served first because this day was in celebration of them, but just as the drinks were poured and people started drinking, Robb's father rose from his chair.
He bellowed out to the room and it grew silent, "we are here today to welcome another daughter to the House of Stark, Iona Stark!" The room grew in noise and Robb couldn't help the large smile forming on his face as he turned towards his blushing bride, "we are here to congratulate my son on a fine marriage! We are here to celebrate their joining, so eat, drink, and be merry!" Everyone raised their goblets and cups up, repeating his father's last words before throwing their drinks back.
Iona turned towards Robb and leaned her goblet towards his, "to us." Her voice was almost drowned out in the hall, so Robb had to lean towards her. He raised his goblet up as well, clinking it with hers, "to us."
Iona sipped her wine, smiling into her cup, "Dornish wine is really the best."
"It is." Robb confirmed as the celebration continued on.
Many songs were played, many people danced, and Robb stared in wonder as Lord Rhys led Lady Rhys to where everyone was dancing, and seemingly the entire crowd parted for them. It was a sight to see Lord Rhys dance, hobbling slightly, but Lady Rhys steadied herself and let him lean into her. Iona had done something similar when they first arrived. Robb leaned towards Iona, the wine catching up with him as she clapped to the beat of the happy song. She was eating grapes and red berries, filling herself before standing.
"I think my lord husband owes me a dance." It was growing late in the night and they had yet to dance, so Robb couldn't find an excuse and he didn't think he wanted to make an excuse anyway. He stood from his chair and captured her hand with his own. He led her down to where everyone was dancing, and once again the crowd parted for them, but the difference here was that everyone also stopped dancing. The band stopped playing their happy tune, settling in for something a little slower as Robb spun Iona before capturing her as she chuckled.
They danced, an intimate and tender dance, while others slowly started to dance alongside them. Unlike the time before, Iona kept her eyes solely on him and smiling as Robb pulled her closer. One hand was placed on her lower back, guiding her as they danced, and the other was holding hers. She slowed down a bit, pressing her head against his chest, "I think I drank too much wine." She admitted, a slight giggle leaving her mouth as Robb rubbed soothing circles on her back.
"I couldn't tell." He really meant it, she just seemed cheerful.
"If you're teasing me Robb Stark, you'll get it later." He chuckled as she stared up at him, a small pout on her lips before he leaned down and captured her lips with his own. People around the room hollered as he did so and almost immediately Iona pulled back, her face flushing as people clapped. She kept a steady space between the two of them and Robb was already missing the sweet way she was holding him but knew why she had pulled back. Embarrassment thrummed in his veins as everyone was staring at them, waiting for them to show another sign of brief affection. Instead, what they got was an awkward couple trying their best not to stare at each other.
After a few songs, their dance was interrupted so that Lord Rhys could dance with his daughter. She happily agreed, but not before squeezing his hand. He was led away by his mother and then after that, Sansa, and even Arya - who strictly specified that she was only dancing because their father made her, which Robb was skeptical to believe since she was laughing and smiling the entire time. He had seen Iona pass around the room, once to Bran and Rickon, even his father asked her for a dance, and then a few of the bannermen, namely Lord Umber, Lord Flint, and Lord Cerwyn who had seemingly taken a shine to Iona.
Iona, his wife as odd as it was to think, was popular. When she wasn't dancing, people were talking and chatting with her, Lord Reed had filled her goblet multiple times as they spoke alongside Lord Karstark. Lady Mormont seemed to be her reprieve, as she swept Iona into walking with her around the room and chatting. Robb kept a close eye on Iona without meaning to, it just seemed magnetic with the way his eyes could find her. Iona had noticed him more than a few times staring, raising her goblet up to him and sipping before returning to her conversations.
He brought up conversations mainly with Jon and Theon, who both congratulated him.
"Think about it Robb, you'll finally be able to get laid." Robb rolled his eyes as Jon frowned, throwing back the rest of his ale before getting up to get another. Jon had been tense the entire night if Robb could still read his half-brother correctly. It wasn't exactly brooding, but tettering the line of it. Theon, on the other hand, was having the time of his life. He was drinking and talking to all the ladies around the room, even getting a few words in with some of the Lords before they walked away.
"Theon, is that all you think about? Honestly."
Theon snorted, choking on his ale and laughing awhile afterward, "you're the one that's been staring at her like you're waiting to rip her clothes off!" Robb could feel heat swell in his chest as he furrowed his brows, frowning as Theon boastfully yelled that. Several Lords and servants had turned towards their table, their eyebrows raised. Robb swiftly kicked Theon's shin from underneath the table, which didn't deter him one bit, "what? It's true!"
"Theon, quiet yourself! She's a lady - "
"Your good-lady wife, which means you can fuc - " Robb jumped when Jon slapped the back of Theon's head, making it slam down on the table. Jon then nimbly slid in next to him, grumbling into his ale as he tipped back his mug. It didn't take a second for Theon to spring up, narrowing his eyes, "what in the fucking seven hells?" His cry was not as loud as the celebration going on around them, something that Robb thanked the Gods for. Jon shrugged, keeping his eyes trained on Theon.
"You're being a disrespectful prick." Robb laughed loudly, slapping the table slightly as he turned his gaze towards Theon, his stare hardening as Theon's face reddened in anger. When he opened his mouth, Robb stood from his seat, "Theon, if you talk about my wife in that way again, I will not think twice in doing something I definitely will not regret. Enough, you've made your point." Theon turned his anger on Robb and Jon watched as the kraken and the direwolf faced off; however, the standoff was short lived as a booming voice called out:
"It's time for the bedding!"
Robb his gaze shifted from Theon into searching the crowd for Iona, who was standing there aghast next to Lady Mormont. Her eyes were wide and her mouth was wide as the Lords in the room hollering and whooped before they descended upon her. Lady Mormont stood in front of her like a shield as Robb found his father, who was giving him a curious look.
"There will be no bedding ceremony!" Robb cried out then again once more when Lord Bolton had grasped Iona's arm, a shout that thundered in the now quiet room. His father was the first to stand up and clap his hands together, "it seems the saying is true: like father, like son!" The crowd was laughing in no time as he made his way towards Robb. He slapped his shoulder heartedly, "instead, we shall lead the newly married couple to their joint chambers and leave them be." The hall seemed to be pleased with this and Robb quickly ducked out of his father's hand, giving a brief thanks, as he made his way towards Iona. Robb noticed right away that Lord Bolton still had his hand securely wrapped around Iona's arm, who was currently trying to shake him off. Robb came between the two, acting as if he hadn't seen the hardened, older man with his hands on his wife, and rested both hands on her shoulders.
She looked up at him, biting her lower lip as she nodded her head once, "I suppose, uh, it's time?" Robb could tell she was trying her best to sounds confident, but her eyes were downcast and Robb simply rubbed her shoulders and pulled her close. He kissed her forehead and before he could say anything to her, to calm her nerves, Lord Umber had jibbed that they better hurry before the night turns into the morn. A set of hands pressed on his back, forcing him forward, and because he was holding Iona, she stumbled forward with him. She laughed nervously and then screamed when Lord Umber, in one swoop, had hauled her up off the ground and onto his shoulder.
"She hardly weighs a thing!" He bosted as Robb trotted alongside him, laughing at Iona's distressed, but giddy expression.
"Says the man that weighs more than a boar!" She jested back to which he only laughed. The rest of the lords walked with him, the ladies giggling and grouping around them, some lords called for Lord Umber to set her down so they could also test their strength, but Lord Umber refused. When they finally reached Robb's chambers, Lord Umber had literally kicked open the door and caused Eleonora to scream from within. She was busy turning down the bed and lighting the fire when the lumbering Lord Umber had strode in, dipping down so Iona didn't smack her head on the doorframe. It caused everyone to roar with laughter and for Eleonora to flush brightly before curtsying towards everyone.
Lord Umber all but flung Iona onto the bed while the other lords pushed Robb into the room, making him trip over his own two feet and onto Iona. They cheered and laughed, clapping each other on the back as they bid their excuses before leaving.
Robb scrambled to get off of Iona as she, scrambled backward. They sat awkwardly as Eleonora made her way over, "my Lord, would you like me to undress her?" Iona turned her head towards her handmaiden, looking betrayed as she spoke. Robb chuckled slightly.
"If you please, I'll change here and you can change her behind the screen." He gestured with his chin towards the partition on the other side of the room. Eleonora bobbed her head, helping Iona up off the bed. He could see the tremor in Iona's arms as she stood, pressing them into her stomach as she walked behind the partition. It was at that moment that the entirety of the situation caught up with Robb.
They were married. They were to consummate their marriage, tonight. He swallowed the lump in his throat as he shrugged off his overcoat, his fingers slightly trembled (with excitement or nerves, he wasn't sure,) when he unlaced his jerkin. He pulled off his shoes, unlacing his trousers and stopped, leaning down into the bed before covering his face with the crook of his elbow and groaned. It was definitely nerves.
He could hear Iona and Eleonora speaking in low voices, whispering to each other and he turned his head towards them. Behind the partition was a flickering candle, and Robb could make out every curve of Iona's figure as her dress fell to her feet. He watched with an intensity that he wished he didn't have as Eleonora wound her fingers into her corset, pulling out the laces until that, too, fell to the floor. It was like he shouldn't be watching, it was more intimate that he thought it would be. Before he could look away, tear his eyes away, it was the fall of her hair that made his eyes follow each curl as they were released.
Her hair had grown longer since she had come to Winterfell, his eyes traced along the curve of her spine as her hair fell and traced it. She turned and his breath caught in his throat, the curve of her breast was visible before a thin material covered it. He looked away, clearing his throat as he sat up and then shoved a pillow in his lap. Eleonora returned with Iona's clothes and shoes in her hands, curtsying towards him before leaving the room. It was quiet, the crackling of the fire was drowned out as his head pounded. He kept his eyes forward, barely noticing that Iona slowly stepping over to him. The bed dipped down from her weight as she sat on the bed and finally he turned towards her.
He could feel his gaze soften, "you look beautiful." The pillow fell from his lap as he leaned over towards her, timidly pushing a few curls behind her ear. She chuckled, he couldn't tell if her face was red from the fire or embarrassment. She leaned into his hand, bringing one of her hand to his hair and pushing it back. He closed his eyes and hummed, "so are you." She whispered. He fluttered his eyes open and just, looked at her. Her hair was wild and free, curling over her shoulder and down her back. His eyes drifted down, her chemise was slightly big and revealed her soft shoulder, her narrow clavicle and under his steady stare as he watched as goosebumps rose on her skin. He looked back up at her face, she was biting her lower lip and chewing on it softly before he pushed his hand from her head to her neck, his fingers ghosting over her nap before he cupped her cheek and ran his thumb over her lip.
"You'll make yourself bleed." He kept his thumb on her lower lip, dragging it down softly before leaning forward and replacing his thumb with his lips. It was a warm kiss, their lips moved awkwardly, but Robb wouldn't have it any other way. Their teeth knocked together and their noses pressed against each other, but after a few moments, it was the slight turn of their heads and the way their bodies moved closer, it just felt right. She pulled back, breathing heavily as she looked up to him with half-lidded eyes that made him pulled her to him. She made a noise of surprise, her body collided with him and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, his hand pressing into the base of her skull and drawing her back into another kiss, more passionate than the last.
Her fingers dug into his chemise shirt, twisting the material as she tried to keep up with his kiss. They parted briefly, their lips still pressed together as they breathed. Slowly, her hands glided up from his chest and running over his shoulders, he noticed they were trembling slightly and her eyes were unfocused and unsure. She brought herself to her knees before settling herself on his lap, he went to look at her fully, but he couldn't tear away his eyes from hers, "Am, am I doing this right?" She breathed out the question, even her voice was shaking. He smiled, pressing his lips against hers once again and wound his free arm around her waist, pulling her body flush against him.
"I do not know," he answered when he pulled back, his forehead resting against hers, "but we'll figure it out together." She hummed out a small 'alright', her lips met his lips again. It was a different kiss than the two previous, a mixture of both and then some. Robb could feel the heat of her body against his and he was aching to bring her closer to him even though it wasn't entirely possible. When she parted her lips to breath, instinctually he pressed forward and brought her back to him, his tongue sliding over hers. Iona made a noise in the back of her throat as she curled her tongue back, but instead of retreating back, Robb gently coaxed her tongue with his own.
It was a new experience, a new feeling for the two of them.
They pulled back, Iona's lips glistening and swollen as Robb's lips trailed down to her jaw, down her neck. He nipped at her skin before sucking, making Iona squirm in his lap.
"Robb." She said his name in a mixture of a question and a whine that all he could do was bury his head in the crook of her neck. He groaned softly, laving her neck with his tongue and kisses as she pressed upon his shoulders, calling his name again. He kissed down to the hollow of her neck, along her collarbone and stopped where her chemise folded. He glanced up at her and she nodded slowly. His hands went from her waist to the hem of her chemise, which had ridden up from their position. His hands trembled as he pulled it up and up, pulling it over her head and leaving her in nothing.
He simply stared without meaning to, etching every detail into his memory. The valley of her breasts, the curve of them, that settled into her narrow waist and wide hips. His thumbs stroked the skin of her hips, pressing down into the meaty flesh there. The goosebumps were still there, more prominent than before.
"Robb, please don't stare." It was a whisper, hushed and quiet as her hands went to either side of his face, directing him until he was looking at her. She placed her lips to his, nipping at his lips and pressing forward, arching into his chest as his hands drifted from her hips back up to her waist and then finally to the undersides of her breasts. She chuckled lightly, "it tickles." Robb couldn't help but laugh too, they both brought their heads back together and smacked their heads together. They both pulled back, their laughter amplifying through the dull throb of pain.
"Robb Stark, you're one of a kind." Iona kissed his forehead, where their heads had previously collided and then trailed her lips down the side of his face, kissing the tip of his nose and his lips.
"Iona Stark, you're one of a kind." He repeated back as his hands slowly cupped her breasts, drawing a small gasp out of her. She chuckled and drew her hands from over his shoulders, covering his hands with hers. She was fully seated on his lap now and Robb released a low groan at the unfamiliar contact. She bolted up, her eyes wide, but Robb just shook his head and pressed her back down onto him. It was a moment before she released exactly why he let out a pained groan as she sat down on his lap. She gave him a shy smile, "oh."
"Oh." He mimicked, laughing silently to himself as she glared at him. Suddenly, her hands went from covering his to the bottom of his chemise and pulling it up. It was his turn to give a loud sound of surprise, she didn't give him a reprise before her hands were back on him. Her hands slid up his chest and down, making the hair on his arms stand on end. Her nails bit down slightly into his skin as she raked them down, her eyes glued to his chest.
"Iona, please don't stare." She smacked his shoulder as he teased her with her own words.
"You're also fully dressed and I have nothing." His eyes dropped down to her nudity then back up to her eyes, which she rolled. Her hands were still pressed against his chest and she was pouting now, so will the strength he still had, he rolled them over so she was below him and now he was straddling her. Her face reddened in a flash, shock written on every aspect of it. She quickly tried to close her legs as she was exposed to not only the cooling air but his eyes. He quickly grabbed her knees, pushing them back as he laid between them with their pelvises pushed together. He leaned against his elbows, hovering above her and teasingly smiling down at her.
"You have nothing to hide from me, dear wife." Her eyes glistened as she raised her arms up, throwing them around his neck and pulled him down to her. Their lips crashed together, a little more roughly than Robb would've liked, but it all was new. She nipped at his lips, pulling and sucking on the gently, as he maneuvered his legs so he was pushed her up against him. She whined lightly, her fingers running down the dip of his neck and splaying down over his shoulders.
"Then dear husband, make love to me."
Her words caught him off guard and by the look on her face, it also took her off guard. Before she could take back her words, he silenced her with another kiss. As he moved his lips against hers, one of his hands went down to his trousers and he pulled them down. He breathed heavily, watching her chest move up and down rapidly. He smiled down at her, wiping away the sweat that gathered along her forehead before grasping himself, "it will hurt." She braced herself on his shoulders.
"I know." She gave him her best confident smile, which shook at the corners, but he kissed them away before kissing her fully. He pushed himself into and she shuttered against him, her nails biting down into his shoulders. She wiggled at the intrusion and he continued after a few moments, repeating the process until he had fully entered her. He brought his lips away from hers, bringing his forehead to rest against hers as tears gathered in her eyes and trailed down her cheeks. He kissed them away, following the trail of her tears until she seemingly stopped breathing.
"Breathe, darling."
She opened her eyes and grimaced, "it hurts."
"I know, but you need to breathe, do it for me." A hand traced her face before going to her chest, not in a sexual way, but a comforting one. She wiped away her tears and let out a shuttering breath, watching as his arm rose and fell with every breath. She started to breathe evenly and Robb kept his hand placed there, giving a testing thrust of his hips. She gave a small stutter of breath before grasping his upper arm with her hand and then nodding slowly.
He gave another experimental thrust and she gave a small noise, almost strangled. He couldn't help but chuckle at the noise. She didn't even give any inclination that she heard him, so he continued. He continued the pace, sweat started to drip down on Iona, but she didn't care. Instead, her hands had become more frantic, pulling at him to bring him down to her and trying to touch any space of skin that she could. Iona whined when he pulled away slightly, the strain in his arms throbbed continuously, but he persevered just to see her smile up at him.
She pulled him closer, letting his damp skin press against hers as they moved together. His rhythm became more frantic, erratically pressing into her and placing short kisses along her skin, anywhere his lips could reach. She did the same for him, kissing him along his jaw and his lips, open mouth kisses that made her hot breath spread across his. He closed his eyes, scrunching up his face as the heat in the room become overbearing; he grunted in finality as his hips stuttered against hers. She moaned lowly, clawing at his shoulder blades as he collapsed against her. Her hands stayed at his back, breathing in deeply as their sweat intermingled and dowsed themselves.
Robb rolled off of her after a few moments, letting his chest rise and fall. Before long, Iona turned on her side and curled into him. She winced in pain as one of her hands rested on his chest, "I'm sore." She whispered making him chuckle breathlessly.
"My arms hurt." He retorted, turning his head to look at her. Her face was red, lips were swollen a bright red, and her hair was plastered to her forehead. There was a small smile on her face, "I think my ache is worse than yours." He tiredly started petting her hair before rising out of bed. Iona rose up slightly, resting on her elbow as she watched him go to his lounge and picked up a small bowl. He could feel her eyes on him which made him smile unsurely before turning, watching her duck under their furs. He could see the redness of her cheeks before she buried herself under the sheets.
He chuckled as he sat on the edge of the bed and pulled down the sheets. He brought the bowl to her lips, "milk of the poppy, Maester Luwin brought it here before the ceremony," Iona looked at him curiously and he sighed, "special thanks to your mother, that's what Maester Luwin said to me before he left." Iona gave him a shy smile before bringing her hand to the bowl, tipping it back to her mouth. She drank greedily as Robb stood once again, retrieving the decanter of wine that Eleanora had left. He brought it to the bed, swapping the empty bowl for the wine.
They laid in bed, side by side, in silence as they drank from the decanter. They passed it back and forth before Iona's eyes grew heavy and Robb took the decanter from her. She snuggled down into the furs without a moment's notice and fell asleep, after a few moments Robb did the same after he set the decanter on his night table. His arm curled around her waist, bringing her face to his chest, and his head rested atop of hers. He found out that she snored lightly in her sleep, heavy breathing that after a while lulled him into sleep.
Author's Note: Sorry for the wait, I've had writer's block and a lot of personal things going on. I hope you've enjoyed this chapter (10,000) words should make up for it, right? Hopefully! I haven't updated this story in two years, so hopefully people are still reading.
Sorry for any errors, I don't have a beta and I have to proofread it, but there are only so many times you can read the same thing over and over again.
Pawelp: then I think you're not going to enjoy this chapter since it's pretty long! I personally think that a love triangle wouldn't work here, but I mean more of a friendship with Jon than a romantic one :) I hope Iona will be a mother soon as well, and after this chapter, we started to get into season one of Game of Thrones, but all shall be revealed! And no worries! I appreciate every review and your English is wonderful!
RHatch89: Thank you! I hope the wait wasn't too long!
Guest: Your wish is my command! (you literally left this almost two years ago, I'm a moron.)
goosamermouse101: Sorry for the wait, but it's here!
MathiasNightlord01: I personally go off the belief that bastards, no matter how badass that they are with a sword, will always be looked down on. Ramsay Bolton for one, even though he is later legitimized, he still called the bastard by many. Most people don't hold bastards to the same light or standard that a noble born, trueborn is. Theon is noble born and trueborn, no matter that he is actually a ward of the Starks. Catelyn Stark especially treats Jon badly compared to Theon, but that is just an example.
Also, I think Jon would appreciate any gift given to him since he has never been given one (or so we've seen/read). His siblings love him, and his father, that is true, but he isn't strictly loved through the hold.
Thank you for the criticism though! It'll be kept in mind in the future.
Guest: Thank you for your really lovely review! I hope my Spanish isn't too rusty, but I totally understand that everyone's mother tongue isn't English, so it makes this review especially special for me! Thank you for your thoughtfulness, hopefully you'll keep enjoying the story!