Owyn Leopold Helvets, 1876

[Fishy 1578]

Spoiler

 

 

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Owyn was the sixth born amongst his siblings, and the second son. It was a loving family he had been born into, in times when peace was abundant. Yet fate would not leave it so. Tension and turmoil would sink their roots in as Owyn first learned of the world. First was his mother’s death, not so long after his final sister had been born, little Laurentina. Then came estrangement as his eldest sister, Henrietta, would be cast out for what she wrought upon their father in her marriage. Next a sister, Daphne, would be taken this time by that Pale Rider. Years passed and Owyn grew, confiding himself as no more than the spare to his brother, Helton, the heir. That was the task he gave himself in quiet, availing these deaths in righteous delusion that he would one day as Duke make this pain and suffering worth it. But that was a lie, all to mask the covetous nature of his heart. And then came war.

 

From then on all was calamity, the complete and utter upheaval of the world Owyn had been born into. Institution after institution crumbled and decayed, smashed to bits as surely as Southbridge had been. Owyn had fought then, alongside his father and brother, for an Emperor and Empire the world despised. He did so because he thought it made him better, for only a dutiful son could ever hope to inherit. Where others fought for wealth and baubles, land and wives, he did so only because he was obliged, a true nobleman. Only this was another way Owyn deceived himself, for he had his prize in mind, though pride and patriotism were there in equal measure. 

 

The war dragged on and the nation’s fortunes withered. His father, an already elderly man by the war’s onset, had passed away between campaigns, leaving his brother as Duke. Owyn had spent much time away from home then, finding comfort in traveling abroad between campaigning seasons. Still he was drawn home with his father’s death, embracing his remaining siblings at the funeral. With his brother, though they quarreled, he still felt the fraternal bond, and the two wrestled as they had in younger years. Glad that despite their divergent paths, they were brothers still. Not long however after, was their family visited with death once more.  Murder is what Owyn likened it to, the day the news broke of his brother’s demise. Caius de Ravensbourg, may his bones be crushed, had issued the execution of the Duke at his capture, affording him no ransom or cell to wait out the war. This was a blade through Owyn’s heart, an impotent fury that engulfed him, for while the war was waged this murderer was beyond his reach. So then the task of raising the orphaned children of his brother fell to Owyn, children who bore the title he once so coveted. The prospect dangled in front of him so, he needed only to reach out and take the title he so righteously considered as his own, like so many others would have done. But Owyn did not, after all this time Owyn’s ambition faltered, it was not right. The prospect was a poison to his soul, he could not imbibe it in his grief and his zeal. 

 

To do what is right, Owyn obsessed himself with this now. So then when his youngest sister, Laurentina, went to him with her prospect for marriage, Owyn was inflamed. How could she have possibly considered such a match? For she would forsake what Owyn considered to be right and good in the world, the faith and family that they had been brought up in, for so trite a thing as love. Owyn challenged the man on the spot and was promptly refused and beaten by the suitor’s men for it. Of the hands that pulled him up to recover from the pummeling were those of a Prince whose place in the succession was not so dissimilar from his own. From then on, Owyn was estranged from Laurentina, a rift that had only just begun to mend when fate would next reveal its hand. 

 

The war was at long last lost. A conflict that had consumed over half of his life, of his families’ lives, was over and they were defeated, the entire nation laid low as the vanquished. The country was then put into a tailspin; the defeated monarchs sought to quarter the realm in their final act before death. Quickly enough, armies were again raised, beneath one banner was the heir, who claimed righteousness to reunite, and under the other was the spare, who had once lent Owyn a hand. Owyn went to neither initially; there was no right in this Brother’s War, either side would have seen him slay comrades and dear friends alike. But then this civil war came to Providence, where his kith and kin had resided, the entire world being drowned in the fever pitch of the armies. Owyn damned what was right and wrong right there and then, abandoning the false pretenses that had guided his life until then. With victory came a dead niece and the title he had long ago coveted. Then his sister Laurentina died. 

 

Laurentina had flung herself from a tower, taken by madness. Owyn could not weep a tear for her, heart hardened to news of death, instead his sorrow manifested in the hollowness he felt inside. Years passed and friends died just as they had before Owyn became Duke. Owyn took a wife and tried to find love with her, but his growing reservedness held him back. She bore him a son, but he remained unfulfilled. Ever the Duke reigned, the more alone he felt, prone to a brooding depression. 

 

Time would pass still but eventually that too would be cut short. A word on his youngest sister drew him from home, and then his demise. 

 

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Owyn Leopold Helvets
1836-1876

[spicii 1114]

Adeline of Rochefort gazed upwards from the eclipsed depths of the Void, offering a singular nod of respect to the fellow Helveti as he began his prolonged journey towards the afterlife.

~

Vivienne Anastasie made sure to comfort a close friend - Rosina Helvets - in a time of immense loss. @gohliad

[Fie 2519]

"Are you not pleased?"  asked the brunette woman of Rivia as she held her newborn in her arms so that his father might be able to see him.

A simple "Of course." had been the answer. Back then, Aloisia had been satisfied. She smiled proudly from ear to ear. Never before had she been so euphoric - yet her feelings were never quite returned. It became more apparent to her over those few years that they were married. Never would either of them voice what they both thought - but it was as clear as day.

Him, introverted and preferring the confines of Kaer Blanche - her, often times a bit of a party animal looking for entertainment in the capital as a youngster does. They were ill-matched, but their fate had been sealed.

Luisa decided to make the best of it, for their son's sake. She was prepared to live thirty, maybe fourty years in a veil of uncertainty, never quite fitting in. She was prepared to give up her hopes for romance and happiness in order to do what was expected of her. 

That dreadful day when it happened, they had a disagreement over the fate of a traitor to the kingdom of Oren. All too nice was it when someone ushered them out to visit some place. 

 

"STAB HIM! ITS HIM OR US!" Owyn had yelled. Luisa held the blade - but she couldnt. She couldnt do it and that cost her husband's life, some fourty years too early. Whilst laying in the hospital bed in Vienne after being treated and questioned, Luisa remembered his instructions. And then, she wept. Had she acted, he might still be alive. Or perhaps they'd both be dead. Either way, now it felt as though she had betrayed Owyn and would pay for it for the rest of her life.

 

Never would she have to give up on her hopes and dreams for the sake of her marriage, but her son would also never know what it is like to grow up with a father. And never before had Luisa beaten herself up this much over being selfish. She prayed to and for Owyn, that night: 

 

"I will never let him forget you. I will never let him think that you did not love him - never. I'm sorry for everything and I hope that.. in death, you can forgive me."

[gohliad 824]

The now not so young Rosina Helvets paralleled a younger Owyn in that moment; her heart hardened and her cheeks no longer stained with familiar tears. For as much death as she had experienced in her life, this surely had to hit her the hardest. 

And, in that moment, perhaps her mind was elsewhere. With Andrea, her mother, her father, her aunt, and now finally her beloved uncle who raised her. Only nineteen and yet here she stood with the blankest expression of them all - for this world had done nothing but tease her with the love of a family, all too quickly taken from her once more. 

[warlord of filth 7713]

"Joe Fishy wake up. Joe Fishy wake up. 9/11." commented Owyn Leopold Helvets' conscience.