he remembered being young and contemptuous at the prospect of marriage, strong jawed and tall at twenty-four when faced with his future bride. helene had been fair and sweet, of excellent breeding ( or so his mother had whispered ) and a decidedly good match for him, their coloring contrasting sharply at the head but aligning nicely with the crisp blue of their eyes. he remembered being fascinated with the way her hair blew in the cold russian wind when they had first met, a traitorous smile softening the stern lines of his face momentarily. but their union was never meant to be, for one reason or the other though he had wished her the very best in her future endeavors, wherever that may lead her. it was unfortunate then, that her future had lead her to him once more, though in vastly different positions than what their prior engagement had granted them.
( it was unfortunate, her choice of spouse, though he comforted himself in thinking that helene could not possibly approve of his imprisonment and that she did not have a choice in the matter. they were never in love but they had been friendly enough that he spoke of her in fondness, though those days were quickly forgotten as his time within her husband’s dungeons grew longer and his hopefulness had died down into bitterness. he did not hate her, but he could not look at her without remembering his days in the dark. )
❝ duchess helene. ❞ unlike her sweet, breezy tone, his voice was strained and clipped, seemingly choked from his chest. he did not want to talk to her but had froze in his steps at the sight of her, thus allowing himself to be caught up by her silent strides. ❝ oh yes, the air here is definitely much more fragrant than the air below the bohemian estate, in any case. more flowers, less shit and blood and death. ❞ ( ah, but why did he have to say such a thing, when she was attempting to be civil ? he did not want to make an enemy of her but he could not forget the past four years with ease either. ) ❝ … my apologies. that … that was quite vulgar and uncalled for. your husband is here then, i take it ? ❞
HE SEEMED rather short with her, and she supposed it could be forgiven — what had happened might not have been her fault, but she’d been too timid to say aught or do aught that could have been seen rebellious, and that was her fault. what could she have done for him, truly ? -- in the end it hadn’t mattered. nothing had been done. she stayed silent until he was finished, her smile fixed in place and growing gentler, willing to forgive some manner of cruelty if only because he had earned some anger with her after all.
IT DID frustrate her, though, that the only way men could relate to her was through her husband. she supposed she was little more than property to men like him, if she was being optimistic, and property must be owned. “yes, in some ways it was,” she said, kindly, “but i understand and do not take offense. i will not take offense”
“yes. he is, although i do not know where or what he does with his time.” she was unwilling to continue to speak on the matter, but she forged through, hesitant, “i am not important enough to travel here alone, my lord count," helene chewed on the admission. it didn’t sting that she was unheard, though she had her own political ideas and ambitions under the pure sugar that made her up, but it did sting that she was at best just entertainment for the duke of bohemia, and at worst an unwanted weight on his household, as she always seemed to be in the eyes of his sister.
