Helene Deire’Tenir
21 :: Feminine :: Consort :: Mentions: Abaddon, Tavarious [ind] Open
Helene tossed on her side, kicking a blanket free from her body with one leg as she curled her knees into herself. She could hear some form of mumbling, but the words were incoherent. All her mind could focus on was the heat that hugged her body. She felt a finger tap on her bare shoulder, but she shrugged it off and shoved herself deeper into one of the pillows. She inhaled the scent of the silk beneath her nose, which was oddly foreign to her. Usually, fur didn’t smell like this. Nor feel like this. Helene was too tired to dig deeper on the topic as she drifted in and out of sleeping cycles.
Another tap on her shoulder resulted in a fatigued groan that emitted from her lips.
Alas, the third tap made her drearily turn her head to the source. There was a blonde blur with a round face, and Helene struggled to make out the form with her tired eyes.
“Shoo Lev~ I need my beauty sleep,” She grumbled, turning back over.
Only then, could she hear the words that the women in her room were speaking. The voices made their way to Helene’s ears, and they were nothing like Levey’s. More aware of her situation now, Helene blinked. The room was piercingly bright. The balcony that connected to her chambers had its doors strung open, letting in a warm breeze along with a blinding light. The more Helene strained her eyes to stare at the brightness, the more awake she became.
“I’ve been trying for an hour! It’s your turn!”
“No, she slapped me the time I tried to wake her!”
“Cope with it, I give up.”
The hushed conversation between a couple of maids faded into the background as Helene stared at the balcony. She was awake, now. Though, she wishes she could go back to sleep and fall into a dream. Fall into the cold landscapes of her home, fall into a place where her family was.
A place far from this one.
The maid whom she mistook for her younger sister was now peaking around the corner of her bed, watching Helene with wary eyes. When Helene dragged her stare from the balcony to the maid, she could see the woman flinch, as if startled that Helene acknowledged her.
Did I really slap one of them? I don’t even remember.
The maid at Helene's bedside started to grow more confident, and eventually spoke up.
“Do y-you want me to close the windows to the-“
“No.” Helene hastily interrupted. “Keep them open.”
Even though the winds that the Empire carried felt wrong to her, at least they cooled her down- somewhat.
Now that she thought about it, she keenly remembered opening the balcony herself. Falling asleep there, even. It was late into the night when she did so.
She definitely fell asleep outside. Did one of the maids carry her to her bed? Did she sleepwalk? I don’t sleepwalk, Levey would’ve told me if I did. Hells, she never falters when she tells me all about the times I talk in my sleep.
Thinking of her sister made a lump rise in her throat. Trying to swallow that lump made a burning sensation travel down her throat. Helene cleared her throat, refusing to think of her family, of her home.
The Empire is your home now.
Helene glanced back at the maid, who was waiting for Helene to get up.
“Be honest, how heavy was I?”
Helene tried to joke around, but the maid looked confused.
“What do you mean?” They tilted their head.
“Were you not the one who took me to my bed?” Helene began to sit up, begrudgingly. She really didn’t want to prepare for the day, but she knew that she couldn't just stay in bed. She let out a small stretch and carried her hand up to her face to shield a yawn.
“When we came in you were already in bed, your highness,”
Odd.
Well, if her maids didn't think she was crazy, they probably did now.
“Nevermind,” Helene physically waved off the idea, which the maid seemed to take as a dismissal maneuver. Helene was quick to correct herself when the maid began to depart, making their way to the exit.
“Wait, stay.” The words sounded desperate.
“I mean- I need to get ready for the day,” Helene stated, which had the maid nodding in agreement. She didn't want the maid to think she was desperate for attention. Helene would never stoop low enough to beg for someone to give her attention. Especially a servant. Within moments, the maid had ordered another pair of servants to scour the wardrobe.
“Anything in particular that you’d like to wear, your highness?” The maid asked, her voice was delicate yet not timid. She didn’t seem to fear Helene much.
Preferably pelts, but it’s too damn hot to wear those here.
“Surprise me,” Helene’s tone was on the edge of sarcastic. Why even ask her what she wanted to wear? They always put her in the same old red and gold attire. Helene looked toward the mirror at her bedside and was rightfully disturbed at her appearance.
At least she had her bathrobe on and wasn't completely in the nude. Usually, nights she doesn’t remember tend to end up like that.
Her pale hair wasn’t tied into an elegant braid like it usually was whenever she'd head to bed. Instead, it hugged her cheeks and frizzed out in every direction, making Helene look like she was electricuted.
“Gods, I look like a creature of the night,” Helene picked a stubborn lock of her from her face and brushed back the rest of her straying hairs with her index finger. As she attempted to fix her appearance, more memories of what she did last night started to come back to her. She remembered bathing and going through multiple bottles of wine.
Helene flung a hand to her head, which started to ache. She let out a muffled groan in defiance of the pain. She had foolishly hoped that she’d be free of the whole hangover part, but not even she could avoid such things. Helene practically flopped out of her bed, placing a hand on her desk to help stabilize herself. As she did so, her fingers grazed a few empty bottles, which rattled against each other because of the sudden movement. The rattling caught her attention, and she couldn't help but count the bottles of wine, which were drained of any liquid. Yikes.
“We disposed of the rest,” The maid noted, and Helene turned her attention from the bottles to the fabric the woman was holding. In the maid's small, tan hands lay a red gown. One that Helene has gotten far too familiar with.
As if reading Helene’s mind, the maid answered her unspoken question, “When you received your letters last night you ordered everyone out of your chambers. You told us not to disturb you.
When we heard you filling the bath yourself, we knocked but didn’t get any answer. The only communication you gave us was to bring more wine. And the only one who was allowed to enter was one of the servants, who cleaned up the glass.
None of us were allowed in your room after that, so I can’t say anything to qualm your confusion, your highness.”
Gods, that’s embarrassing. Helene looked toward another desk, which had three letters neatly bound, though they had obviously been opened, given that the red waxed emblems of her tribe were broken.
“Did you read them?” Helene, who had now gathered her balance, made her way to the letters. The maid uncomfortably cleared their throat at her question.
“They… They were splayed open when I came in. I didn’t want others eavesdropping on your…” The maid struggled to find the words. “Business.”
Helene raised a brow, picking up one of the smallest letters. Little droplets of liquid had discolored the beige paper. If she recalled correctly, this was Levey's letter. Helene cleared her throat, knowing all too well how pathetic she got last night. She didn’t have to remember it, the state of the letters was proof enough.
“Did you…”
“Uhm- well, I was taught how to read a little bit, but I swear I didn’t read more than just a quick glance could offer. Please forgive me, I d-didn’t want to, my brain just registered some of the words on their own and-“
The maid began to speak frantically, and Helene could sense the fear the more she went on.
“It’s alright. Thank you for conserving them- and wrapping them up before the others came in.” Helene spoke softly, her hand tracing over the paper. The maid grew quiet, perhaps contemplating Helene’s gratefulness. Was the maid ever thanked for her considerate deeds? Given the silence in the room, Helene supposed not.
Helene grabbed the rim of a chair and pulled it out before sitting in it. In front of her sat a mirror with a chestnut-colored table below it, which was adorned with jewels and trinkets, all for Helene. A gold-embroidered brush sat idly beside one of the bigger jewels before being plucked by the maid and raked through Helene’s tangled mess of hair.
It didn’t take long for the maid to elegantly tie Helene’s mounds of hair into a pale crown of braids that was tied at her temple. Within moments, Helene felt the cold, gold necklaces and jewels being clipped into place. The earrings were on the heavier side and didn’t help the headache that pounded in the back of her head. She felt the urge to stop the maid from hooking on the golden chocker but did nothing to stop the action. She always felt uncomfortably restricted with it on, yet never voiced her opinion on it.
Time flew by as Helene was lost in thought, and before she knew it, she was entirely dressed. The red gown hugged her torso, and the frills on the end were gently picked up by a sudden breeze that swooped through the balcony. The breeze was warm. Too warm. It made Helene feel sick.
"Bring me my letters," Helene ordered, and within moments, the three letters were placed in front of her.
"Would you like some tea, your highness? ... Perhaps ginger-lemon?" The maid offered. Was Helene's headache that obvious?
Helene nodded as she reached for the notes. She may have already read them, but her memory of their words was vague. She gathered the letters in her hands and began to uncurl one. She immediately recognized the elegant curl of lettering to belong to Bellavida's hands.
Dear Sister, the North misses you, as do I.
As I write this letter, your favorite colors dance in the sky and illuminate our lands. They should provide our messengers with a quick delivery, which I'm grateful for.
I know I don't have to worry for you.
The tribe has told me many of their doubts, which I've been silencing.
Father and I keep telling them that the Empire will get better with you in their court, which I have no doubt about.
The letter continued on about the ordeals Ella had to endure, which made Helene crack a smile. Ella always confided in her and ranted to her about everything. It was nice to see that she carried that habit on through the letter.
Even though Levey wrote her own letter, she's still hovering over mine and begging to write her own portion.
It seems you can't escape her love, no matter how far you are.
From The Ashes,
Bellavida Deire Tenir.
P.S You better read mine last! You know, save the best for last and all that stuff, since I'm obviously your favorite sister - Levey
Helene let out a half-hearted chuckle. The noise felt foreign to her.
The next letter was unmistakably from her father. There was nothing but formality written in, but Helene got his message. To the naked eye, it might seem like he wrote about typical matters, but years of knowing how to read her father's blank emotions allowed Helene to read his message entirely different.
Don't linger in the past. That was his message, which was adorned by fluff. He knew that Helene would feel a grudge against him, against everyone involved in her betrothal. If she was face to face with her father right now, they'd probably be arguing about it.
Helene's attention was brought back to reality when a small clatter sounded beside her. The tea. Along with a couple of pastries that she guessed was the Empire's idea of breakfast. She looped her hands around the tea and took a sip before unrolling the last letter. The discolored letter.
Though some of the ink mended with liquid, Helene could still make out the words.
I can't believe you didn't take me with you!
To leave your favorite sister at home? Do you want me to die of boredom?
Wynson is being a stubborn cunt and won't write to you, no matter how much I nag him. But, you probably already know how childish he can be. Hell, he holds grudges longer than you, which seems impossible.
Anyway, you wouldn't believe the day I've had.
As the letter went on an overly detailed and informal rant, Helene could imagine the voice behind it. A chorus of youthful tones, connecting to pale lips and beige skin. Within moments, Helene was imagining Levey sitting on her desk, kicking her legs out in the air, full of dramatizing expressions as she went on about the boys in her life.
A smile tugged on Helene's lips, yet quickly faded when she got near the end of the letter, which had the most writing out of the three.
I wish I was there with you, in the Empire. Just so I can keep your husband in check. Don't worry, when I visit, I won't be as harsh as Wyn.
OK, maybe a small, teeny-tiny kick to the groin for taking you away from me.
Anyway, make sure you don't forget about writing back to me, your favorite sister, if I didn't stress that enough.
Much love,
Levey
A small heart was drawn next to her beautifully curved name, her words were so full of life, just like her baby blue eyes. Helene could feel her eyes start to burn, so to combat the sorrow with distraction, she drank more tea. Though, one could describe it as inhaling since she downed the entire cup in one go. The heat from the tea burned her tongue, which made her release a hiss. The pain was a good distraction.
After stuffing the pastries in her mouth, Helene stood up, swiftly being hit by a breeze that violently ran through the open windows. Her attention stayed on the balcony for a little bit.
Last night, after her bath, she came to the balcony to feel the prick of cold biting at her skin. The only way she could be reminded of the skin-biting winds of her home was by getting her skin wet. She wished she could feel what she felt last night. She wished for that little bit of nostalgia, that numbness, that buzz, the cold.
“The Empire awaits, your highness,” The maid said, pulling Helene from her trance.
“Get rid of the letters and bring me a fresh sheet of paper. I’ll be sending my replies to the Ash Tribe later today, make sure everything is prepared by the time I’m back.” Helene ordered, and the maid submissively nodded before slipping out of the room with such practiced quietness that Helene nearly didn't notice their absence.
Helene made her way to the door which lead out to the concrete corridors, something she felt like she’d never get used to. Everything was so much different. Instead of thick fabricated caravans, everything was solid. Instead of hearing the whistle of blizzard winds and their howling chorus, it was silent. Here in the empire, everything felt still. Even if servants were rushing about, or soldiers were sparring in the courtyard. Helene would probably be able to stand being in the empire if Tavarious hadn’t caged her into his specified areas.
The thought of Tavarious made Helene curl her fingers into a fist, which resulted in her knuckles going white. The clacking of her heels smacking against the floor grew quicker as she regained her collected and speedy gait. The doors in front of her opened, revealing warm halls. Halls that Helene had walked through every morning, afternoon, and evening for 2 months now.
Helene regained her posture, tipped her chin upward, knotted her fingers together in front of her stomach, and quickened her pace. A few servants tailed her, nearly jogging to keep up with her long strides. It didn’t help that they were particularly short compared to Helene's stature.
While Helene made her way down the halls that she had memorized upon arrival, she felt as though she was missing something. Some one. She looked to her side, which was lacking a tall, pale figure. Abaddon. She wouldn’t bother seeking him out, her personal guard always finds a way to her. She learned that the hard way whenever she tried to lose Abaddon when he was first assigned to guard her. Even when she thought she lost the guy for sure, he'd always appear out of thin air.
The sound of her heels was muffled out as Helene glanced out a couple of windows, which allowed rays of light to spill into the castle. She always ordered the servants to close the drapes on the windows that were around her chambers- specifically to keep the heat out. Someone must’ve opened them anyway.
When Helene passed the window, the light burned into her pale skin. A native to the empire might’ve found this feeling relieving, but to Helene, it was simply uncomfortable. The Empire’s temperatures were hot compared to what she was used to.
When she was allowed to go for strolls outside, her skin easily burned. Helene has managed to get used to it somewhat, but she usually carries a parasol to keep the sun off of her vulnerable skin whenever she goes outside.
Ah. I forgot my parasol.
Helene didn't bother asking one of the servants to fetch it as she began to think about her horse. One of the only things that reminded her of home in this damned land. The pony always had such a thick layer of fur on him, but he has recently been shedding that fur like his life depends on it. Technically, in a way, it does.
Helene tilted her head slightly, listening to the footsteps behind her. She counted three separate gaits. All were servants that followed given their strides.
“Prepare Balade for a ride,” Helene ordered, and one of the servants jogged ahead of her to relay the message to the stablehands. The other two quickened the pace to keep up with Helene.
As she made her way deeper into the castle, she couldn't help but notice the wandering eyes of a few nobles and servants that she passed by. The incoherent whispering. The judging eyes. In her tribe, nobody looked at her like that. Her people always carried respect and admiration for her, so the looks of the people here were something that Helene wasn't used to. Perhaps she should reprimand them, but then she'd just be labeled as an authority abusing bitch. After all, she'd just be throwing a tantrum and going off of her own insecurities to the public eye.
For now, the best political choice was to ignore them. They underestimate her, which she can use to her advantage.
Let them think they can control me. It'll make it easier to pry my way into their heads.
Fall 
Day 
Hurricane
