wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure
WHOOT. DONE.
Characters: Bloody Baron/Grey Lady (Helena Ravenclaw), mentions of Rowena Ravenclaw
Word Count: 3,298
Rating: PG13. For murder and suicide. Mentions of sex if you squint.
Notes: UGHHH. I hatehatehate the death scenes. And think the whole thing is... just all right.
“Helena?”
“Yeah?” she answered, looking up at him. She had been picking at the grass in her boredom and sat back when he called her attention.
He swallowed as she tried to hide a look of curiosity. These… feelings were getting far too awkward to be comfortable. Who really felt this way about the person they could consider their best friend? It was… weird. “Have you ever thought about getting married?”
She blinked and shrugged. Helena was thirteen, old enough that her mother was already looking for good matches in the boys she knew, but she had hardly any interest in the whole process. It seemed like a business arrangement to her and a rather involved one at that. Money could always travel a long way, couldn’t it? Why did she have to be pulled into the mess?
Babies came after marriage, after all, and who had a use for them? They only cried and made trouble and ruined your figure. What good was there to be had in that?
Wit beyond measure was the greatest treasure, not a man or a home or a life like that, she reminded herself. It was her own personal motto just as much as it belonged to her mother. So Helena wasn’t interested in the whole process that other girls seemed so giggly and excited about. It all seemed messy and complicated and pointless to her. Why did everyone bother? There were much easier ways to go about these kinds of things.
“Well?” he prompted, and she looked up from the grass again.
She paused for a moment, as if she were thinking it over and shrugged again. “I don’t know,” she replied simply. Another moment passed. “But… no,” Helena decided.
He seemed surprised at this. In all his training, girls couldn’t wait until they were married. They waited for it their whole life or something silly like that. Though, he supposed, Helena was rarely like those other girls. “No? Why?”
“Marriage doesn’t sound really fun, does it?” she asked, using that tone in her voice that told him that she had thought of something most people wouldn’t have. Girls never really worried about that. They were told they should be married, so they decorated it as the best thing in the world and something everyone should love to achieve.
He thought this over. True, he had never really heard ‘fun’ describe this marriage thing the adults were always talking about. Loads of people did it considering no one said anything about fun. In his fourteen-year-old mind, anything like that had to be fun, or at least somewhat enjoyable. After all, a hunt was only fun for so long. Once the fox got away or someone was tired and complaining, the whole thing was ruined. “I guess you’re right,” he agreed.
She stuck her chin up at this, but her smirk gave her away. “Of course I am.”
“Don’t do that, Helena, or no one will want to marry you!” he replied, mimicking the common threat from her mother. What other one did they have besides taking away the one thing girls were meant to achieve?
“I’m not marrying anyone, remember?” she answered, poking him in the side and laughing lightly. “I like my fun just fine. The other girls can swoon and giggle all they want to get the husbands.” With her proud set shoulders and gleam in her eye, it would be hard for anyone to not believe her. He knew her long and well enough to know that she meant almost anything she said. “I’ll be the one having the most fun.”
His heart hammered lightly against his chest, and he swallowed again. This was just getting annoying. Couldn’t he just figure out that it was strange and he wanted nothing to do with this kind of thing?
Helena nodded and stood, brushing the grass off of her skirts and grabbing his hand to pull him up. “Last one to the tree on the end of the meadow explains why we were gone so long,” she challenged, looking at the sinking sun on the horizon. Of course Rowena would want to know what they were up to.
“Don’t you know that young ladies who want husbands don’t run, Helena?”
“Shut up,” she answered with a laugh. With that, she started running a head start toward the tree on the other side, her skirt lifted slightly to show her boots. He stood for a moment before he remembered where he was and what he was doing, and ran after her, declaring the whole game unfair.
--
“So, er, Helena?”
Helena Ravenclaw had been looking out of her small window, observing a few students running around the Hogwarts grounds. The sun was shining and it was a nice day to be out, but her mother had sent him up to keep her company inside. Apparently Rowena didn’t want her daughter out in the sun. She moved her gaze from the window to the man beside her slowly.
“Yes?” she answered, using that calm, sweet voice he didn’t know that her mother had taught her since a young age. Had it always been like that? Had she always used that tone that made him think that he was the only man she ever listened to?
He swallowed. She always had that habit of making him almost too nervous to think straight. She was far too pretty, he decided, with her long hair and lovely face and figure. She had to have been sent to make him like this. Helena was too pretty, too clever, too everything.
But it was here, a perfect opportunity. Now he could ask her, just like he had wanted to a hundred times and backed out! Now, with the window open to let the fresh air in and her eyes looking up at him and her delicate blue dress, was the moment. He’d ask her, she’d say yes, he could kiss her, he could, they would…
A look of slight impatience flashed across her face, and he caught himself. She had a temper if someone made her wait, he knew, and wasn’t about to cross it before he asked the all-important question. The Baron squeezed her hand affectionately and cleared his throat. He was going to do it this time.
“Lovely weather, isn’t it?” she said suddenly, looking out the window again with a far-away look in her eyes. A breeze lifted her hair from her shoulders and let it dance lightly around her. Helena always seemed to be in a world of her own, where everything went according to her. Sometimes the Baron wished he could find a way into that world with her.
He had to swallow again. “Yes. Lovely as the maiden sitting next to me,” he answered smoothly. She turned toward him and offered a small smile. Helena always was one for compliments on her beauty or her cleverness. “And, Helena dear, I was thinking. Perhaps… perhaps you would like to be my wife.” He tried to keep his tone calm, tried to not show that his heart was beating rapidly and he was hanging on her answer. She probably got proposals every other day from men much richer and much more handsome than he.
Her expression changed. Her eyes were now matching his gaze and he saw something cross them. His joke wasn’t exactly funny to her, she thought rapidly. “Sir,” she dropped her gaze, “I know not the honor you have granted me with the offer to be your wife, but…”
“No,” he interrupted, standing and pulling on her hand. She was reciting from memory, something her mother had taught her to say to deny a proposal! She was supposed to say yes, she was supposed to let him kiss her, she was supposed to…
Helena stood with him as he pulled her hand, trying to remove her hand from his grip. “Baron, I…”
No, he repeated in his mind, holding tightly onto her small, white hand. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go at all. He had the whole thing planned out and this was certainly not it.
She could see his reaction coming more quickly than most, having known him for so long. She moved closer to him, lifting a hand with the intent of brushing his hair back to calm him down and murmur sweet little sayings that would remind him of her charm.
Instead of giving her the chance he pushed back against her, letting her back collide with the stone wall behind her. A faint “Oh!” escaped from her, but she did little to fight back or get away from him.
“You’re supposed to say yes,” he said forcefully, keeping her backed against the wall. Before she could reply, he kissed her and it only took her a moment to return it. Her small arms found a way around his shoulders and his tightened around her waist.
“I’ll - I’ll marry you,” she replied shakily, pulling away enough to meet his eyes with her own. She tilted her chin up again, as if he would kiss her again, and he only laughed, pulling away from her and straightening his collar. She stood straight again and brushing non-existent dust from her skirt.
The proud, careful look came to her face and he almost laughed again. “I’ll speak to your mother tonight at dinner, then,” he said smoothly, turning away. “What kind of ring would you like?”
“Yes,” she answered, pulling the window closed and arranging herself and her skirts back on her seat by it as if nothing had happened and they were simply discussing a business arrangement. “That would be best.” He could almost hear her eyes pop at the thought of any kind of ring she wanted. Gold always did go a long way. “The best you can find,” Helena replied bluntly.
He smiled when she couldn’t see him because she had already turned around to the view outside. Helena would always be Helena.
--
She was far away from them now. Now they couldn’t catch her. Now no one could tell her to be more like that awful mother of hers. Now she couldn’t be compared to her endlessly. Now she would always be clever enough and smart enough and enough of everything. Now she didn’t have that woman’s shadow to live under or her presence to deal with every day. Rowena could keep her perfect little school. Helena had other, better, bigger ideas.
Dear old Mum didn’t have the guts to run away, but she did. She had a brave bone in her body, unlike her mother who was probably lying about the whole thing now. Mum probably couldn’t even tell the truth. She probably couldn’t even admit that her daughter had been smart enough to find it and take it without her knowledge.
Who had man’s greatest treasure now, Mum?
The forest of Albania was cold and the snow crackled under her feet, but she kept on her journey. She had to come to a village or something soon, she reasoned. Helena could ask for some shelter; she brought money, and get herself a decent meal. She hadn’t really planned her next move, but she was clever enough. She always had that now, didn’t she? She would think of something. When hadn’t she?
Helena heard another crunch that didn’t seem to come from her feet and whipped around to see what had happened. Her wand was out, the killing curse already on her tongue. What did she have to regret now?
Some sun made its way through the trees overhead and glinted off something on her hand. She flinched away, but a certain pang did go through her chest when she recognized the ring. He’d put it there only a few days ago, and he was never going to see her again. Maybe she didn’t put everything in the equation when she ran away.
But no way was she going back. It didn’t matter if they were all dying. Helena Ravenclaw was finally free.
She heard another snap and turned toward where she thought it was coming from. “Who’s there?” she asked the woods. “Tell me or I’ll kill you.” Her voice was absolutely serious and didn’t shake. “Who goes there?” she called again, looking around and lowering her hand after a moment.
Being alone was making her paranoid, she decided. When she got into town she was going to need to find some company or she would go crazy. That was all. All she needed was someone else who would only care for the moment, and she would be all right again. It was just being away from one person that she actually cared for that was getting to her. Oh well, there could be replacements. They would have to work, anyway.
The snap came again and she turned once more, angry. Who did that snap think it was, destroying her moment of celebration? She was free. She didn’t have to worry about what other people thought or anything. She had outsmarted the most brilliant witch in the world!
“Helena!” a voice called, and she was sure she was imagining it. It sounded much too familiar. Maybe this was what happened when people were left alone for too long.
Helena moved forward more quickly, pulling up her skirt to expose her ankles. At least it kept the heavy skirts from catching on the branches and debris around her. She needed to get out of her and into a village, anywhere that would have other people besides herself and her crazy thoughts.
Suddenly a rough hand grabbed her shoulder, pushing her back against a tree. She called out and tried to grab for her wand. Another hand (or maybe the same, she didn’t know) took the wand from her trembling fingers and drew her chin up to see him. “Helena, it’s me.”
The Baron’s face came into her vision and she didn’t know how to respond. One part of her wanted to know how the hell he had found her, another wanted to grab onto him and never let go, and the other wanted to shove him away and yell for him to leave her alone. The first side of her won. Helena stayed in her place, making no move to escape the grip her had on her arm and the hold he had against the tree.
“Hello,” she answered coolly, not exactly meeting his eyes. Her hair was a tangled mess, barely brushed in the morning before she left. She had a tear in her dress from a stray branch and her face and hands were scratched from all the walking and breaking through the brush. If she ever did, she looked ugly now. Now was not the time when your fiancé was supposed to see you. Maybe that didn’t matter when they caught you in the middle of running away.
“If you didn’t want to marry me, you didn’t have to make a suicide mission, Helena,” he said roughly, letting up the pressure slightly on her arm. Something told her that she might have a mark there later from his hold.
“Not everything is about you, Baron,” she answered smoothly.
He shrugged, letting up on her arm but still keeping her pinned to the trunk. “And neither is it about you, Helena.” He seemed to think about something for a moment before speaking again. “Your mother, she’s ill.”
Helena hesitated for a second. “Ill?”
“Dying,” he corrected, nodding.
She knew she should have felt awful for it, but a certain sense of satisfaction spread through her. Obviously she needed Helena a lot more than Helena needed her. “What do you want me to do, Baron? I can’t save a dying woman.”
He winced at the tone of her voice. He always knew Helena was this way, but he had thought death might change things. It was all that he gotten him through the trip Rowena had begged him to take for her. Her mother wanted to speak with her and it didn’t seem like Helena would even give her the honor of a sad word or something in her memory.
“She wants you, Helena. She’s asking for you.”
The younger Ravenclaw paused. “You came all this way to get me to say good-bye to my mother? I’m sorry, Baron, but I’m not going back. Not after - No.” Her words were final and somehow she had gotten out of his hold.
She stood a little while away, crossing her arms defiantly. Her mother’s death wouldn’t change her at all. She would always be the little brat he had fallen in love with and there was nothing to change it. It would have been much easier to fall in love with one of the normal girls who always did what they were told. They wouldn’t cause so many problems.
“You’re going back,” he answered her, taking a step toward her and grabbing either shoulder. “You’re going to tell your mother good-bye, even if I have to drag you every single step, Helena Ravenclaw.”
“No,” she replied challengingly. She didn’t think he would do it? He would show her. She wasn’t going to get ahead of him this time. This time he was going to get his way.
He didn’t really know exactly what he was doing now, but soon her wand was dropped to the ground and he had taken his hunting knife out. What was it doing in his hand? “You’re going to, Helena. As your husband, I’m telling you to.”
She tilted her chin up. “My husband?” she answered, a smirk now coming to her features. “I don’t remember any wedding, Baron, do you?”
He grabbed her hand, pulling it in front of her face so she could see the sparkle from the fading sun on the ring. He ignored the sound of pain she made at the harsh treatment. Of course, she had been nothing but spoiled and pampered her whole life and now someone was finally teaching her a lesson. “There’s a reason it’s there, Helena.”
She pulled her hand away, tugging at the ring. Even with the now-injured shoulder, she managed to throw it at him. “Get away from me,” she answered. “Keep your damn ring.”
He took another step, pushing her shoulder against a tree again. “My ring?” he replied mockingly, pushing her chin up so she would meet his eyes. “I remember you asking for it, Helena. Don’t you? No?” He really didn’t know what he was doing anymore. The rage of everything was building up. She’s left without saying good-bye, wouldn’t come back, and now this?
He shoved her farther against the tree as his lips met hers crushingly. She tried to push him away, but he pulled away quickly. There was a sharp movement of his arm, and she made a harsh, gasping sound. “Baron…?”
He backed away, his arm falling to his side. What had he done? She moved her mouth wordlessly, her small hand going to cover the blood and wound at her chest. Her knees collapsed, and he rushed forward. She was too weak to object as she fell into his lap as he went down with her. She took a single labored breath and gasped again before falling silent.
A whistling noise started to go through the trees, and he looked down at the bloodied weapon in his hand. No, he couldn’t have… He loved her! But she didn’t move and he couldn’t think and who cared anymore? Maybe there wasn’t enough blood quite yet, he reasoned, and when hadn’t she controlled everything he did? With a quick kiss on her forehead and a half-prayer of deliverance or whatever came after, he sunk the knife into his own heart.