We'll Meet Again [Helton Helvets - PK Post]

[DelaneyG 1279]

We’ll Meet Again

 

It began with a sickening ‘crunch.’ Henrietta Helvets, Princess of Haense, crumpled in the dirt. Killed by her brother. It was unintentional. It was a mistake. It was an act immediately regretted - he held her close and muttered his apologies and ‘I love yous’ until she was gone.

 

It was the beginning of the end.

 

After the death of his sister, Helton Rhodes Helvets turned to vice. Quartz powder, drink. The priest had told him to turn himself in. Attacks against him began, first Baron Arichsdorf then a hired blade, Helton could not think it was divine justice against him.

 

The incidents left Helton in a state of paranoia. Constantly he was worried for the safety of him, and his family. At a stunning and quick pace, he began to isolate himself from his friends. He spoke with few. He shared private moments with even fewer. 

 

Then…

 

 

 

…Visions.

 

They started small. They started subtly. A bird in the corner of the eye that was never there. The nonexistent blacksmith’s assistant carrying a bin of horseshoes to a forge. 

 

He began to speak to them. They replied.

 

Some of these figures were friendly. Far more were not. Walking through the streets, the Duke would carry out arguments with himself - insisting he was right in whatever subject fancied him. All he heard from them was “you’re wrong.”

 

Arguments escalated into fights. And when the visions had enough of fighting fair, they began to strike at him in the dark. He would wake in a start, feeling the cold metal of a dagger across his face. He’d wrestle with these unknown assailants for who knew how long before eventually beating them back. He always beat them back.

 

These delusions did not come without a price. It started first with acquaintances at court. Continuously did he see groups of courtiers where only one or two stood. Initially this was met with confusion - it soon became anger.

 

No one resented Helton and his ailment more than his family. They only suffered his behavior for so long. Soon each one of them resented him. He was convinced that they all hated him, even his dearest sister Laurentina. And so the list of would-be assassins grew and grew and grew until he only truly trusted three people. All of them, every assassin on the list was damned - damned and cursed by the Duke of Cathalon. 

None were to be trusted. None were to be trusted. None were to be trusted.

 

He damned them all, all but Laurentina. Even as she hated him, he still wanted to give the world to his sister. So he never went on his list of assassins. He could never bring himself to add her there. The conversations began in Cheval Hall.

 

“Can he steward our lands?”

“Will he resolve our crises?”

“Is he fit to rule?”

 

All of these questions, these whispers, Helton heard. He heard them through the walls, through the bookshelves. And he wrote it all down:

 

“HATe. HatE. hATE. HATe. HAte. haTE. Hte. HhATE. HATe.”

 

A stack of notebooks on his desk, hiding and distracting from the actual duties of Cathalon. Each page with a name at the top. Each page filled with “Hate.”

 

And always open, always with a page half-filled, was the notebook marked “HElTOn.”

 

“gOD WILL NeVER FOrgIVE ME.”

 

His children were born over the course of two years. Andrea Fredericka, then the twins: Rickard and Rosina. His wife, Natalia Persephonie-Catherine Galbraith died delivering the two youngest. In any other household it would be considered a tragedy. In the Cathalon house, Helton did not even mourn - the opposite. A party was thrown to celebrate. The only attendees were the Duke and his servants. 

 

On a table he hopped, cheering and singing and drinking: “She’s dead! She’s dead! She can’t kill me anymore! She’s dead!”

 

The one thing Helton remained dutiful toward was his beloved numbers. Where mankind had failed him with treachery and deceit, his numbers embraced him. He turned into quite the book worm, burying himself within the ledgers of the Empire. Each week, he’d count. Then count again. Even when the transfers were finished. Even when all the gold and marks were moved. He would still be there with his abacus, doing the calculations again and again. again and again.

 

He carried the threes. He subtracted the twos. He made sure to check all of his math three times. Then when the day's work was finished, he’d do it again the next day.

 

There was only one person where he could find true happiness. The only true moments where he let his guard down was with her. It was with her where he could be himself. And they all hated him for that, too.

 

He began to see his mother - or what he remembered of her. In her youth and middle years before she passed, Leopoldine was a beautiful woman. She was kind, caring. The perfect mother. In his head, Helton could only see the shell she was after death. Throat torn out. Eyes plucked from her skull. This phantom haunted him, following him around. And every time he fought off the assassins that came for him she was there - watching without sight. Judging without presence. This weighed on him above all. What would she think of him now?

 

It all came to a head in the square of Providence. A poor soul tormented by Helton had told their trusted - the Hexer Arthur of Caermad - and the beastfeller demanded answers. The resulting squabble ended with the Duke being confronted by the Archchancellor.

 

“Stay away, Lord.” Helton insisted.

 

“Can’t you see you’ve gone mad? This isn’t who you are!”

 

The d’Azor kept getting too close. He wouldn’t stay away. He was one of them. He had to be.

 

So Helton stabbed him.

 

. . . 

 

In the wilderness, she spoke sense to him. It was Grace Romstun, the famed warrior. The woman he loved. She’d tracked him to his hiding place. While he was keen on dropping off the face of the earth, she wouldn’t let him.

 

It was her insistence that this was not who it was that had him vow to do better. For himself. For her. For his family.

 

It was then he realized he was of no service to either his country or Cathalon. He was mad. Those who depended on him did not deserve to suffer and be neglected while he was in this state. They all deserved better.

 

So the Duchy of Cathalon would pass to his eldest daughter, Andrea Fredericka, and Helton would be free.

 

It was time to be free of the paranoia and fear.

 

It was time to heal.

 

---

 

 

 

In a scene eerily similar to the one playing out simultaneously in the Empire of Oren on the 18th of the Sun’s Smile, 1859, Helton was dragged unchained before the Chancellor of Sedan, Caius Tiberius de Ravensburg. There he received a trial, if one could call it that - though it was wartime and they were enemies, so who would really complain? Throughout the entire trial his eyes were constantly moving from the speaker to the back of the room. He needed to see her as much as he could. The defense was as best as one could muster at a time like this. He stood firm in his support of both his sovereigns and the Church. The writing was on the wall and he knew it. The Duke was condemned to die for a multitude of crimes he did not commit. So he went stoically and without issue. 

 

During the walk he had little time to prepare himself. The Duke thought of everyone he once knew, everyone he was ever close to:

 

Many of his friends he was still at odds with: Odessa, Amelia, Joseph, Catherine. He prayed they would understand he was not himself the past few months.

 

He thought of his family away from home, in the far reaches of the Empire: Elias. Matilda. Eloise. Auden. He prayed they knew he missed them dearly.

 

Theodosia. He prayed she knew he still loved her, till the end of time.

 

Even sadder still was his family. Laurentina, and his children. The three kids would grow up without parents. His sister and he had been on bad terms at best since their father died. They would never be given the chance to reconcile. He prayed they would meet again someday.

 

The sentence was death by one-thousand cuts, which struck fear into the Duke’s heart. A hastily found ‘Elder-Heiromonk Vladrick’ came forth to offer last rites. 

 

The judge was absent during last rites. The ‘Elder-Heiromonk’ was absent during the execution.

 

Helton’s final moments on the post were focused on her. He wanted to assure her it would be okay. He wanted to be strong for her. He did not want her to watch. When she refused to go:

 

“I’ll wait for you,” He told her. “I promise I’ll wait.”

 

“You’re going to be fine,” She assured him. “I’m gonna cut you down after and we’re gonna go home, okay?”

It was the greatest blessing she could give him: comfort in what was to come after. He was ready. He cried with her. They watched one another, just out of reach.

 

“We’ll meet again, Gracie. I love you.”

 

Helton turned to meet his destiny. His mind was still on the exchange prior, head filled with images of her.  Then the world went dark - the scene cut short by a well placed crossbow bolt to the head.

 

Not bad, for a final thought. All things considered, it was pretty great.

 

---

 

 

Some time after Helton Helvets’ death, a writ of abdication was found amongst his books dated 20th Sun’s Smile, 1859. Just below it, in the same notebook with his name on it, a page was half filled with the words:

 

“You will get better. For Laury, for Grace.”

 

 

 

Spoiler

OOC NOTE:

 

Helton has been my first run at a nobleman character, and I was incredibly lucky to have such amazing experiences on him. I want to say thank you to @Fishyand @Fiefor giving me a shot at playing the character in the first place! @PerfectlyPeachy, @zuziee, and @Fie(again) for being such amazing siblings to Helton (rip the first two LMAO).

 

Until the last few weeks of the character's life, Helton's home away from home was with all of you: @Itz_Cookie, @StrongBear, @bloomtiara, @RoseyPosey532and @RaindropsKeepFalling. Both in character and out of character you all welcomed me with open arms and I'm so incredibly happy and proud to call you all my friends.

 

@tilly, @Taketheshot, @CharmingCavalier, @libertyybelle and @Fie(AGAIN stop pls leave me alone!!!!) When I started to do more work at the imperial court and within the government, it was you all who took me under wing and taught me the ropes. I'm eternally grateful and look forward to many more adventures together.

 

And a final final thank you to @iFractalfor your role in this story as Grace Romstun. You inspire me to improve my craft and challenge me to be a better person daily. Don't be a heckin stranger :D

 

[tilly 5115]

Spoiler

 

 

"He's not right in the head!" Odessa had cried that day outside of the bank, having put herself between one seething Arthur of Caermad and the deranged Duke of Cathalon, who'd both brandished their impressive weapons. 

 

"You like pickin' on helpless women, do ye'?" Arthur sneered, advancing ever so slightly for Helton, shoving Odessa to his side for what he believed would be for her protection. Just then, the trio became surrounded by various members of the ISA, the arch-chancellor, and Helton's erstwhile beloved, Grace Romstun. 

 

Swiftly, the beast slayer and the kin slayer were separated, Odessa and Arthur being taken to the palace for questioning while Helton belligerently and desperately screeched insults in an attempt to degrade the hexer's credibility. 

 

Several days later, Helton and Arthur bumped into each other once again, though their exchange was much more amicable, and ended in a mutual understanding. Arthur had told Odessa to expect an apology from the duke in the coming days, one which would never come.

_______________________________________________________________________

"Helton's dead," the Princess Amelia had told Odessa and a very drunk Joseph Azor, who had both been sat on the floor in the pantry of the imperial quarters, discussing troubling life matters just before the interruption by Amelia. "He's dead," she wept, talking through sobbing hiccups. "It's all my fault..."

 

"Wh..." Odessa was shocked, to say the least. The things she'd been through with Helton as her most trusted confidant, and the evenings they'd spent together mulling over one another's woes so that they might be able to carry on just another day, a bit lighter.

 

However, following the events in Helton's own life, it's of no surprise that he went as mad and became as demented as he did. Odessa understood his illness; she'd seen hundreds of soldiers return from battles with that thousand yard stare, tortured shells of the men they once were. It was for this very reason that, that day outside of the bank, she'd refused so furiously for Arthur to duel Helton. The tricks his mind played on him were not his fault, but that didn't stop the panic that grew in her chest upon each time they'd met since that day he'd held her at his dirk's point.

 

Odessa remained there for several moments longer on the floor, motionless and holding her head in her hands while the princess and archchancellor butted heads.

 

"He wouldn't want us to fight!" Amelia had pleaded with the archchancellor, who'd just received word that the forces were rallying at the front gates. Joseph looked as though he had something to say to the princess, but instead bid both of his friends ado to avenge his the Duke of Cathalon's death.

 

The woman sat there alone for some time after, and mulled over the last memories she had of the Helvetti nobleman: Odessa, locked and cowering in her bakery, while Helton skulked about the palace grounds. That last day she had seen him on the other side of the bakery's gate, she wanted so badly to make amends with him and talk through their difference. But, she was scared; this was the very place he'd held her at knifepoint. and what with how volatile he'd been in the last handful of years of his life, Odessa knew she couldn't trust him. Not while she was alone and helpless. To her eventual regret, she remained hidden from her now-dead pal, and would wish forevermore that she'd had the courage to help her friend through the toughest time in his life.

 

"Damn it," Odessa whimpered, hanging her head in shame, and sobbing into her hands without any restraint, alone on the floor in the pantry of the imperial quarters.

 

Spoiler

Delaney, over these last few months, it's been great to get to know you as my good friend instead of that toxic player who ruined my garden ten years ago on the Anthos or Fringe map lmfao. I'm not saying goodbye or anything, just letting you know that you did great in the time you did play Helton, both with the psychotic rp, but also the work you did behind the scenes. love u buddy!!!!!!

 

[Taketheshot 3834]

The Duke of Azor frowned as he retired to his office following his attempt to seek vengeance on Helton's behalf, slamming the door shut behind him, the man delivered a swift kick of his armored boot to his desk leaving a gaping hole in the wood as he slammed a fist upon the desk. "GOD WHY!" Joseph d'Azor exclaimed, the destruction of his desk bringing no relief to his anger and grief. "He did not deserve this, out of all who could have, he was not the one..." The man raised his hands to his waist as his gaze drew across the blood spattered gloves, for but a moment considering what had become. "No... No... We must push on, for Helton..." Joseph d'Azor drew a long breath looking south towards Haverlock, his path was set, now more than ever. 

[Franczhiz 4437]

The young Joseph Clement de Sarkozy sprinted to the Aster Hall to inform Princess Catherine of Helton his execution; but, he was too late. He saw her crying and thus embraced her whilst whispering words of comfort to her. "He is with GOD now, dear.. - He shall smile from the Seven Skies as we shall crush those responsible for his execution. Not just us, but the entirety of our Empire shall avenge the death of our friend."

 

The young lordling recalls the two having met again and having a most happy Imperial Diet meeting, alas - that was their last encounter. His closest friend Laurentina came to the mind of the young Sarkozic. "Let us find and take care of Laurentina, her heart must be absolutely broken after losing another of her relatives.." And so Joseph shed some tears out of the compassion that he had for Laurentina and her other living siblings. - He prayed for the soul of Helton as he held his rosary in his hand.

 

@AndrewTech

[aldskar 842]

 

Rosina Matilde Livia Helvets, born with blood on her own two hands. Never was she privileged enough to feel the maternal embrace of her mother, and yet the irony is, while her father was still alive she had never truly felt the embrace of his own either.

"Orphan's at a mere two years of age." She heard servants around Cheval Hall observe. Of course, she did not understand. "Heartbreaking."

Though she would not remember in these years to come how it felt to watch her father self-destruct, but in those very moments perhaps she would come to understand the feeling that she was unloved. All her memories of her father were to be from her earliest drawings. The duke - angry, a sword yielded to an assailant, as he explained it to her, and yet on that very paper was a space devoid of life. Nobody was there.

Her pupils dilate, now, as she watches her older sister and a nanny from the doorway, illuminated by the wintery-warmth of a blazing fire. "Lady Andrea, you are to be the Duchess of Cathalon come morning."

 

[HIGH_FIRE 5490]

Drako Darkwood would sign the lorraine for Helton "Goodbye Duke" He would mutter hearing of the passing of a man he considered a mentor and friend

[Proddy 2415]

Far removed from the Orenian Empire, in the newly constructed fortress of Dún an Èin, Arthur of Caermad heard tidings of the Duke’s grizzly demise. He felt somewhat gladdened they’d managed to mend their troubles before his death; the Hexer would recall their last conversation and Helton’s promise to better himself with some sorrow now.

 

“Death is the best mercy some men could ever receive. Just a shame you had to go like that.” he murmurs as he heads out to the stables, readying his horse. As dawn would break, the hunter would ride once more for New Providence. There was someone there who needed him now, probably more than ever.

[Da_Emperors 1987]

It was a beautiful evening. The sun was setting against the walls of New Providence as the city remained as lively as ever. His Aunt Amelia and Peter would be walking towards the gates as they would look over to the local markets, to pick up a few items for the upcoming gatherings. Sir Jarad would be the first to bring the news -- The Duke of Cathalon was dead.

 

Emotions overtook him completely as he slammed his fist into the stone -- blooding trickling down his fingers -- his eyes beginning to become full. It was the first time in many years he had felt this sudden shock. The war was a trying time but Helton was as if a brother. Perhaps not by blood -- but by choice.

 

Amelia would open her arms to him she embraced her nephew. He blinked. Tears fresh would run raw down his cheeks as he would take a few moments and exchange prayers for the lost Duke. As he pulled apart he would wipe his face as he screamed. "Every man that can hold a blade shall rally to the gates -- for we tonight we shall make those whom harmed our own suffer!" Around fifteen hundred gathered as they hook horseback and went off towards the lands in which actions were taken against the Duke. The forces took on two hundred bandits that held the colors of the foe -- it was not enough, they ran into the Dwarven land to seek more as the pain ran ever so deep.

 

Upon the end of the eve the men and women returned to Providence and sought to take enterance to the Cathedral as they all wished prayers for the fallen brother. "Helton, Duke of Cathalon and dearest friend. I should hope you rest well alongside your parents in the Seven. Shall you look over your own, our people and myself in the coming years. God bless you and the legacy you leave." He would sign the Lorianne as he then moved to go towards the palace alone. 

 

@DelaneyG @libertyybelle@JoshBright

[megavoltar 1634]

"If I could turn back time... I wouldn't have to relive the death of a seventeen year old... I am just glad that now... He wont be forgotten..."

A wretched specter that breathed in and out outside the gates of Providencia had completed his scouting... And now that it was official that the mans death was broadcast... The feeling of familiarity graced the enraged being...

[JoshBright 3014]

Jarad would sit in his office, overcome with grief having already heard of the duke's death "too young... far too young.." he would start crying slightly before returning to his work

[AndrewTech 3329]

HIH Catherine of Furnestock, the Princess Imperial, had been overcome with grief at the revelation of her good friend's death.

She remembered when she had first met Helton Helvets. It was at a Knoxoween party at Cathalon. As an eight year old girl, she had found the teenager that was her best friend's brother to be quite intimidating. But they would eventually grow to become fast friends through the years.

 

As she cried in her bedroom, she thought of the layers of Helton's personality at the beginning of the war. They were tragic, she thought to herself. All he wanted to do was to crunch numbers and attend parties. He was a sweet, loving man beneath the armor that he wore. Both mental, and physical.

 

His mental state had rapidly deteriorated over the last year or so. The layers were no longer the same. They had changed, warped entirely... The last time she had seen him, she had seen NOTHING. All she saw was a shell of what he was, and that had horrified her to her very core.

It was a terrible sight to behold. She herself had felt unsafe around him, especially after that day at the bank. But whatever had happened to affect him so, she forgave him. 

And she hoped that he knew that in the Seven Skies.

 

Dressed in but her nightgown, Catherine would manage to roll out of her bed, kneeling before the foot of it as she clasped her hands together in prayer. She prays for his soul, for Laurentina, and for the children that he had left behind.

[StrongBear 1239]

An aging Highlander idly paces through the main floor of his home within Urguani lands, a letter of the young Duke's death held loosely in his grip, pondering away at his last interaction with the man, "Vyr Grace." He scoffs, shaking his head, a look of disgust washing over his scarred visage, "Helton, vy vere a kind soul at vun point, but vy changed and nicht for t'e better." He spoke to no one but himself, "Vy vere scared, lost, broken, 'n need of aid, but vy didn' ask for it, vy just pushed everyvun vho cared about vy away. Even almost t'reathen me, of all people, vy should'v known better." Elias fall silent soon after his conversation with himself, even if a bit of hatred had formed for Helton but then again, it could be the fact that he lived in Oren, home of the damned. 

 

That same Highlander knew better to keep his thoughts about Helton to himself, slowly making up many flights of stairs to return to his room, swiftly finding his wife to console the woman that had practically lost a son, one not by blood but by bond.

[kuerbis 3802]

 

Agony gripped Laurentina as she lost yet another one of her siblings. Why Helton? Why her big brother, her best friend? She could never even say goodbye, she could never even apologize for being horrible to him. She could never tell him that she loved him too and that she didn’t mean when she said all of those horrible things to him. Whilst wrapping her arms about herself, the girl wept into the plushie he had bought her when she was only six or seven summers old. She gripped it tightly like the memories that clung to it. All those happy childhood days - they had ended when Daphne died. Then Henrietta… then her father. And finally, Helton’s death turned her heart to stone - away from what she once was.

A raven-haired beauty that met an early end embraced her oldest son within the skies. She showered him with thousands of kisses and uttered hundreds of apologies for having left him alone at such a young age. Guilt had never left Leopoldine after her passing away - but finally, she, her husband, her daughters and son were a family again.

And last but not least, a stoic girl sat by the front door of Cheval Hall. She stared up to the clock for a long while. Three in the morning, it read. It must be a long time until Papa would come back home. Perhaps he’ll be there tomorrow? The Duchess of Cathalon would never know.

[Phersades 1710]

When word of the death of Helton reached the young Lord Kortrevich, there was not much for him to do but sigh.. He had last seen Helton around Tuvmas, a long time. He thought he should have visited more often when he was Betrothed to Guinevera. The war made these things hard though, but regardless of his duty and loyalty to his country, he still cared much for the family and wished for their safety always. He hoped Laurentina would be okay, he hoped Guinevera and those left would be okay. 

Another death of a young man, another cruel collection for Godan. 

[_mady07 1540]

Carolina de Joaness seemed very upset that Helton had to die, she'd been very exicted for a tea party and his demise had ruined the event.

 

ooc

Spoiler

Hey there! It was some really nice rp. Thank you so much for being so calm and awesome even though I agree completely losing a persona really is a difficult thing, but hey you handled it very well, Thank you so much!!