Play the Game
Anatole loved his sister-he loved her dearly. He loved her without the confidence she would ever love anyone. No, Helene was far too cold-far too deliberate in everything she did-to allow emotions drive anything within her.
It was one of, if not the primary, reason her small scene startled him.
She cared for very little, if anything. Anatole sometimes wondered if she was capable of it at all. He hoped for her sake it was moreso a wall than a vice, though never voiced it to her. She was a good sister, but she was not as tolerant as most thought. She had a tongue sharpened on the blade of lies, and just enough venom in her blood to kill a man’s reputation if he stepped wrong. The blonde had seen it plenty of times. That being said, he feared her less than he feared for her.
Anatole played the fool, but he knew his sister well. Knowing how to level with her, especially after all the alcohol he knew she had, was just one of many skills he’d obtained over the years. Helene was older, had been getting drunk a lot longer, but when Helene needed a distraction, she was not good with handling it.
Their strides were quick but graceful all the same, sweeping and confident. He hooked his arm around hers, using it as a way to pull her into his ear. Before he could even caution her, Helene was speaking.
“You ruined my fun,”
Their eyes locked for a brief moment-barely long enough to be considered a moment at all. It was enough, however, for Anatole to look at her and know rather quickly she took more shots than he thought she did. With a bottle of vodka stocked in her closet at all times, he probably should not have expected any less.
“You couldn’t have gone upstairs?” He questioned instead, voice light as to not attract any attention. Prying eyes had never been good for the wealthy. They were the stars of the show so to speak, however the preference had always been only when desired. If one got too curious, the Kuragin version of nitty gritty was not for the faint of heart.
Helene scoffed. “On the other side of the house? No. We are in heels. Those are uncomfortable, Toyla. It’s a walk,”
“You would have rather gotten caught doing… that? ” He didn’t mention it directly out of caution, and Helene was at the very least sober enough to obey that part. Drunk sure, but Helene liked to keep herself reasonable. She knew her levels, and knew how to maintain them. Frankly, she needed to be just a little more than tipsy to get through this.
“It’s the 21st century,” Helene rolled her eyes. “You’re acting like it’s a crime,” At that, Anatole was forced to pause and look at his sister more closely. Her eyes were trained straight ahead. No red was there; Helene wasn’t looking at anyone as much as she was simply not looking at him. Anatole knew his sister, but he did not know where or how he offended her. He knew he did, because Helene steps sped up the slightest bit, and she was licking her lips, a habit she picked up from their nanny as children.
Some habits simply don’t die.
“I’m cutting you off,” It was all he could bring himself to say, because his sister had a weird thing about apologies. Receiving them always made her entire body stiffen. They made her all the more dangerous, sensitive to whatever micromotions proceeded after them. He could apologize when there wasn’t a question of what it would do to the company image. Right now, he was leveling. And that was all he had the ability to focus on. “Gimme your champagne,” He grabbed it before she could refute, watching her head snap towards him scowling.
Immediately, she smiled.
It was a confirmation that she knew the motion was too quick. An acknowledgment that it was a misstep. One so minor it was doubtful anyone would have noticed it, yet it was treated as lethal. Had the wrong person saw it, there’d be hell to pay.
Even one second of a broken façade and they were reined back into it by their fears.
Fears of the man who locked eyes with Anatole first, then Helene, and began to approach, his wife on his heels.
“You disappeared.” It was a declaration, followed by a judgmental tilt of his head. There was a faint smile that showed barely any teeth to suggest to those nearby their conversation was a simple one. One not of interest. His children, on the other hand, knew in less than three seconds exactly why the man had approached them.
“I wasn’t feeling well,” Helene lied through her teeth, not sure if she was trying to convince her parents or those surrounding them.
“Have more to drink,” The comment from Vasily didn’t come as a shocker. Helene shocked all four of them by not following his direction immediately.
“Are you sure?” She questioned him more reluctantly than usual. Vasily stood up straighter, surveying the crowds swirling around them. None of them were too close and his eyes moved back onto his daughter, who had instinctively shrunk away the moment she noticed her error.
“You look upset,” The man spoke bravely once he realized no one nearby was paying attention: no stragglers or eavesdroppers for the moment. Aline’s eyes continues to look around, as if watching for any changes. “You need to loosen up or he’ll notice,”
Helene said nothing, feeling her face flush when Anatole spoke up. “I don’t know, Sir. She said she wasn’t feeling well,”
“Yes, but does Bezukhov’s son need to know that? No,” Helene winced like the name hurt her and Anatole shifted his weight uncomfortably. He loved his sister dearly, but not enough to adopt the same biting tone their father did when he offered a suggestion.
“I can go home with her with our driver-“
“Aline, go grab our daughter something to drink,”
Aline nodded quickly, smiling as innocently and ditsily as either of their children thought possible. She took a simply step, train of a striking gunmetal color flowing behind her. “Red, Elena darling?”
The curly-haired girl in question opened her mouth to respond, but never got a word out. “No, get her Banyuls or Port, would you?” It was hard to get in a word over the man, nonetheless one that would matter. Aline was off.
“I don’t think this is going to go well,” Helene pointed out warily. She didn’t need to specify for Vasily to understand. Confident as always, he grabbed both sides of her face affectionately, leaning in close and nodding.
“Yes, it will. You will be fine,” He said it with enough force she felt there was only really one option, which was to nod along with him. Agreeing tended to quell the fires of his temper, one she could feel rising based on the way his nails curled ever so slightly. The ice she was walking on was thin. Eventually, his hands dropped and he took a step back. It allowed both his children a moment to breathe and lock eyes while their father scanned the crowd for the man in question. “He has been watching you all night,”
“Has he?” Helene’s tone had grown more careful since his warning. Level and vague, but not impossible. Vasily knew of her opinions; she didn’t need to hide them from him. He knew she would do as he said. It was more a matter of how her opposition looked to those around them than a question of her loyalty to the cause.
“Yes. He told me you look divine,”
“That is great news,” Her voice was dry.
“You’re right,” Vasily addressed the comment as if it were genuine, and the smile that spread on his lips told a story of exactly where his next words were heading. “And so I expect better from both of you. We are not repeating the Drubetskoys,” His grabbed his daughter by the arm more to gain her attention than harm her, or possibly to show her that he could. “You lost me a business deal doing what you did,”
Helene nodded. Anatole shifted uncomfortably. It was a show of how important this Bezukhov plan was to him that his scolding was so public.
“Both of you just disappeared for almost ten minutes. If either are you are ever going to move up in this world, ever amount to anything, you have to use your hospitality. You have to be good hosts,” His eyes landed on his son, hard but with that same smile still on his face. “Not sociaize with your best friend-who you are very fortunate that I let you bring” His gaze landed on Helene, “Or go disappearing without so much as telling us. People asked for you both. Be respectful,” He chided them like they were children again rather than teenagers. “You don’t want to disappoint me, do you?” He questioned them both, eyes narrowing as their heads shook. “So make it up to me by being behaved, then. Anatole, go talk with my friend, Donovan. He wants to know how school is going,”
The blonde knew better than to fight him. It was no use starting a war with the man who’d raised them. Who knew the twists of their minds and the roadblocks he put there. The man ran a business-there was no remorse for any steps he took. Everything was control and order, not how he got there. His children were no different. Perhaps it was through a guise of care and dances for affection, but Anatole had learned to seek it elsewhere. He couldn’t say the same for Helene; it was the reason he offered her a reassuring smile just before they parted ways.
Vasily and his daughter were left in silence. Neither of them spoke. Helene because she didn’t think there was anything to say and Vasily because he was watching to ensure Anatole knew who Donovan was; the boy was always the forgetful type.
“Elena,” Helene took the glass from Aline’s hand delicately, only offering a half-smile in greeting to the woman who had just returned with a beaming smile. Whether she had a good time tsalking to whoever she’d just been in the company of no one would ever know. “Drink it quickly. We will be getting seated for the auction soon,”
Under both her parents’ gaze, it became business. Aline didn’t dislike her daughter an less than Vasily, but it would be a lie to say Helene felt an odd physical security when both were present at the same time. Mentally much less so, but she could play their game a lot easier once her shoulders untensed.
“Did you put me at his table?” How much she sounded like her father was unnerving. Cold, calculating. Unbothered. All a whole lot different than she felt in the moment as the woman in red passed some distance back over Aline’s shoulder.
“Don’t be stupid. Of course,” Her father’s response was mere background noise as she watched the redhead glide through the crowd.
It was the first time she’d seen her out of the shadows all night.
“Right,” She murmured distractedly, but quickly snapped out of it when her mother cleared her throat. “Will Anatole be there?”
“You don’t need Anatole to be there,” Vasily answered sharply.
“I would like him there,” Helene wasn’t paying attention enough to watch her tongue.
“You will be with Pierre’s friends. They’re all your age, and you are a pleasant, easy-to-look-at girl. You will have no troubles. But if you must know, we assigned him to the table next to yours. Tables 4 and 6. Just in case you need to watch his…temper,” Vasily explained, paying no mind to his own harsh criticisms or matter-of-fact commentary that should have been more shocking to his family members than it was.
“He doesn’t have a temper,”
“What is up with the snideness today? You were behaved earlier,”
Helene frowned, brain seeming to catch up with her circumstance. “Sorry,” She took several large sips of the wine, already feeling it continuing the job vodka and champagne started, nodding a bit to herself. “I’m just a bit nervous,”
Aline’s smile continued to beam. “Don’t be!” Helene’s smile became more like a grimace. Hearing her speak so cheerily grated on her ears each time. It was so fake Helene thought she’d be better off speaking like the whole thing was a burden. How people voluntarily listened to her speak was a mystery. The woman gestured vaguely over Helene’s body with a delighted, self-satisfied smile, “You have plenty of… assets that can work in your favor if all else fails,”
“Thanks, Mama,” She immediately turned towards her father, “How long do you want me to entertain him?”
“A month, perhaps,”
Helene finished the rest of her glass.
“It’s not too long,”
Helene forced a smile even harder than she normally did, “I know,”
“Maybe even less,”
“I’m sorry, I know I’m not really being helpful with this,” Helene sighed, giving a small gesture of her hand. Vasily didn’t deny or reassure her. Helene couldn’t decide in this particular moment what that meant. Maybe she would contemplate it. Maybe she wouldn’t. It took him a few seconds, taking in the anticipation of a stronger, kinder reaction, and instead beginning to back away.
“Getting a business deal with the Bezukhovs would be monumental. Just be nice to him and do your part,”
“I will,” Helene insisted almost robotically. “More wine?”
Vasily laughed. “There we go,” He smirked. “Go make us proud,” He waved her off in the direction of the man lingering towards where the auction would be, a glass of something in his hand. Well, at least they had that in common.
The smile stung. “Always.”