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When I look back at my choices, it seems the bad ones were almost invariably made by me when dealing with wizards with a penchant for conquering. Conquering kingdoms, hearts, minds, the world, death itself. Hubris knows no boundaries, I suppose.
“I’ll make you an offer you can’t refuse,” the Baron said to me. Aggravating man, yet he did not mince his words, and I appreciated that at the time.
Let me explain a little about myself and the predicament I found myself in. My name is Helena, although Athena would have been a better fit. No fleet of warriors would ever sail after me, should I run off with a rake. As for the rake, I’m not interested in men. My one true passion will always be scrolls and knowledge. I fell in love at the age of five, when I learned my letters and we’ve been inseparable ever since.Unfortunately, once I became of age my father informed me he expected to see me married within the year and forbade me to continue my studies. I turned to my mother for help (after all I graduated with honours from the school she herself founded) but she was unwilling to cross her husband in this matter, not even for my sake.
So, I was encouraged to take on embroidery and practise well-timed fainting spells.
For me this equated to hell on earth, my only mercy was the knowledge it would end, as no one lives forever and the loss of my true love did break my heart.
Perhaps I should have looked at the glass half full (preferably exactly so) and appreciated the opportunity to study a broken heart still beating, but I wanted to learn more in my life than cross-stitches. So I decided to plan my escape, while I flitted from ballroom to ballroom, and discouraged my potential suitors from speaking with my father.
Thus, when the Baron, one of my more interesting suitors, addressed me, on an otherwise boring ball, where I was supposed to twirl elegantly and exchange vapid words with fatuous men, whose wide hoses and fanciful doublets made them look like colourful pins, that I longed to knock down with a rock, I listened to his proposal.
In all honesty, I would have listened to the devil himself, if I’d found him lurking in the pagan Highlands of Scotland.
What the Baron offered was a husband who would kill for me rather than love me, who would let me pursue my interests as long as I let him to his own bloody hobbies. I was quite persuaded and accepted his hand in marriage.
The fearsome Slytherin warlord proved to be the rock that took down all my other suitors like the keglers they resembled, in one well-aimed strike.
My parents didn’t dare disapprove of such a man and his powerful relations, so the plan worked wonderfully at first.
I’ll admit that in the course of our betrothal I found myself thinking about the Baron more and more, purely in the way one thinks of a study object.
Frankly, the rumours surrounding him were rather wild.
He was born with the helmet, utterly ruthless, and killed small armies single handedly with sword and wand. But truly the strangest rumour was that he ate grilled Goblins for breakfast.
Whenever I asked him the truth about these tall tales, he would burst out laughing and wink at me. Insolent man.
“My lady Helena, only on Sundays, and preferably poached.”
***
For months he lured me into a false sense of safety. I even began to enjoy my time in his company; he never tired of my endless questions (such as how much blood loss a body could sustain before the heart stopped beating). He never disapproved of my interests.
And one day he simply ruined everything.
“Lady Helena, please forgive me for disturbing you,” he began.
I looked up from Charms that Cut Deeper (first vol.) and smiled at the man who gave me the freedom to sit in this library and read.
“I’m indebted to you for my peace and quiet; consider yourself forgiven.”
He swallowed and looked at me with an intensity that should have given me a clue. Alas, my inner eye was always terribly nearsighted.
“Lady Helena, I know you are too kind to toy with me.” He sank down on one knee.
“I know we pride ourselves on being rational creatures devoid of fickle feelings. However, I find myself ardently in love. You have bewitched me, body and soul. Your wit, beauty and curiosity have captured my heart, and I look forward to our union. You will make me the happiest man alive.”
I was utterly speechless and my blood nearly boiled with rage.
“You, sir, have deceived me. You promised me you had no heart. Yet now, suddenly you do and you claim I’ve somehow captured it? We had an agreement and it decidedly does not include feelings like love. I do not love you, nor do I intend to. You better go.”
The door slamming loudly behind me was only a meagre consolation.
The next day I fled beyond my private chambers, as far away as I could. Since my parents had given him their consent, only my absence at the altar could prevent our marriage.
I should have known I’d not be free of him, for unlike the goblins for breakfast, rumours of his tenacity proved true. He tracked me all the way to Albania.
“I’ve come because your mother is dying; this winter will be her last. She bids you return,” he said without a smile.
“Is this another lie?” I asked, stamping down the guilt for refusing my dying mother’s last wish, for I would not return. Certainly not with him. Even if his only fault was to proclaim to have feelings for me.
“No, t’is the truth. But naturally, I am also happy to see you in good health, and still unattached,” he said, looking pointedly at my bare fingers before he winked at me. Infuriating man. As if I’d run away into another man’s cage.
“Is my love for you truly so revolting, Helena?”
“Yes, I can’t trust you. I will not fall into another trap. You promised me a loveless marriage. I can deal with that. My heart is already given elsewhere. If you continue your claim to … to love me, our agreement is off.”
I was angry and not at all pleased with the contradicting thoughts whirling in my mind, let alone my emotions. I felt betrayed, yet my vanity was appeased, and did I mourn the loss of a man I had considered a peer, a friend? I hated being confused.
I wanted to get under his skin, to hurt him, take a proverbial stab at his heart. In hindsight, a rather foolish move.
His short temper? Not mere rumours.
“You won’t marry me, despite our agreement, because I love you? Who have you given your heart to? He and I will both have to settle for the ghost of you,” he shouted, stabbing me with words before his knife sank deep into my chest.
I watched the blood stain my dress, then pool on the floor. Frustrated, I looked around for a cup, a beaker, anything so I could at least have an answer to my question, how much blood loss before the heart stop–