A/N edit 6-6-2023: small change near the end. I forgot to have Jason change tactics, so to speak.
The first theme is heard on a solo flute, then copied by the violins of the strings section. The skeletons rise from their graves…
First things first, she had to reacquaint herself with a skill-set she had not used in a long time.
Many people believed her talent to move and thaw even the coldest, most frozen of hearts, was purely that… talent; the gift and skill of a prodigy.
Not many knew the hours and hours and hours of practice, practice, practice, until her fingers bled. It had been a necessity.
Hope had no memory of her parents. She didn't know what they had looked like when they were still alive. Or even if they'd been kind people. All she knew was, on the way back home from the hospital, after her mum had given birth to a baby sister, her parents and that tiny little sister, had died in a violent collision. Turns out that a Ford Fiesta was no match for a huge truck that came veering into their path.
And Hope had been handed down to a younger sister of her mother, who had no skills to speak off, except to attract the most monstrous types of men.
A kind neighbour had taken pity on her and invited her inside to provide her a safe harbour where she could escape her aunt and her long string of lousy boyfriends. Leila was the one who introduced her to the violin and taught her how to play. Even provided her with the needed smaller sized violins for practice. And Hope discovered that, in practising and later playing, she could lose herself so thoroughly in the music, she could drown out the sounds of the fights, the screaming and the violence. In fact, she became so adept at escaping into her own mind, at some point she no longer needed an actual instrument. As long as she knew how to play the music, and knew the movements her fingers had to make to play the music well.
It was something she had not been able to explain when Dee first came to visit her.
"Hello, little one. That is a very big song for such a small girl."
That was kinda the point. The harder the piece, the more she had to concentrate, the better she could escape the harsh reality of the world.
When Leila died, she left her Mittenwald violin from 1790 by Peter Hornsteiner to Hope. If her aunt had guessed the worth of that violin back then… she would have pawned it off immediately for whatever little money she could get for it. But her aunt considered it worthless, so she allowed Hope to keep it. The one kind thing she'd ever done for her niece.
In those days, Hope did not indulge in anything so frivolous as hope. She had no use for the word and she lived her life, day to day. Her ability to escape into her own mind had served her well when one of her aunt's lovers had one evening set his sights and desires on her, when she was still too young to understand the meaning and the act of sex. She had no recollection at all of that moment, only that she'd played a masterful Sonata nr. 9 by Beethoven in her mind and that afterwards she'd been sore.
She had her music and that was enough. And she had a strange friendship with a woman who visited her for one day every year. She might have been too young to understand sex when her virginity had been crudely taken, but somehow she had not been too young to understand that somehow, in some way, she'd become friends with Death itself, or herself. That friendship had inspired her to not only not fear death, but to surround herself with it. To offer kindness and comfort, right at the end, to those who needed it. And then the day came when she turned her back on her past and no longer needed music to escape. Unfortunately, it also had it's drawbacks on a more personal level.
But intimacy was a luxury these days, and, like hope, was very much a thing of the past.
She had to make sure she would check out when she wanted to, not when her mind took the decision from her.
Hope was right in the climax of 'Il labirinto armonico' by Locatelli when she stabbed herself in her thigh with a fork. Her makeshift gag stifled her scream of pain and absorbed the tears that rushed from her eyes.
Next evening she tried again. And again.
Until...
She waited, and waited. Blood flowed and her thigh was a bruised bloody mess, but she felt no pain, and she flawlessly finished the piece in her mind.
The second theme is introduced, a descending scale on the solo violin, accompanied by soft chords from the string section. The first and second themes, or fragments of them, are heard throughout the various sections of the orchestra. Here's where things are getting interesting.
Now that the cat was out of the bag, so to speak, it was no longer necessary to speak about the King of Dreams (or one of them Draculas, as Ernie called him) in hushed tones. Even though Alex Burgess still didn't like it when the immortal being was openly discussed.
This allowed Hope to interact with Ernie, Frederick and, more importantly, Jason, more often. And she left him little crumbs of bread, to lead him deeper into her trap.
No one commented on Hope's sudden change from slacks to skirts, but she caught Jason licking his lips a few times. She had him salivating.
The next step in her plan involved making sure Jason's pot of coffee was ruined. Ernie nearly went into a fit because she had the attention span of an amoeba and she didn't feel inclined to wasting precious minutes of her break time to make him a fresh brew. Hope offered to do it for her and gained a new best friend. Just what she'd been waiting for all of her life. She rolled her eyes.
Hope brought Jason his coffee and made it a point to casually mention how brave he was for being down here, all alone, by himself, while Ernie had her break. Because, really, if something were to happen to him, no one would hear him screaming. And he'd have to wait and wait till Ernie was finally back and, well… she did take some huge liberties with her lunch breaks.
Jason was very non-committal in his replies. Just a nod here, a smile there. His gaze often travelled to the hemline of her skirt and his eyes glinted.
Men, such simple cretins. It was disgusting how clearly Jason was telegraphing his thought processes. He wanted her, that she could tell. His appetite whetted of course by an innocent smile here and a sway of her hips there… showing a bit of cleavage. She was working him into a frenzy of depraved fantasies.
It would soon come to an end though. For he started looking at her as if she were easy prey, not knowing she was actually a spider luring him straight into her web.
Then Jason suddenly suggested to Ernie that she should ask Frederick on a date. "You, know, have lunch together at the nearby pub," he said.
It was not difficult for him at all to get her excited at the prospect.
"You're all right, you know that?" Ernie said, a dreamy look in her eyes. "I will ask Freddie tomorrow. Maybe wear my hair a little different."
Jason said nothing, neither did Hope, but his eyes gleamed when he let his eyes rove over her body and she knew she had to prepare herself.
Her bow flies over the strings as the piece becomes more energetic and she's swept up in the melody. At it's midpoint, right after a counterpoint section based on the second theme, there is a direct quote of Dies irae, played by the woodwinds.
Her mind was filled with musical piece after musical piece, yet Hope failed to still her mind.
She didn't call out for Death. Partly because she was afraid Dee would actually show up and start yelling at her for being stupid. And partly because she was afraid Dee wouldn't show up, and then she truly would be alone. Just not by choice, as she was now.
Alone by choice or not, she was scared
Scared to death.
Not of Death, but of dying.
It had been so easy, contemplating the possible risk as though it had no bearing at all to her life.
Her. Life!
Or to think of it all as… as a form of martyrdom, all for the greater good.
Because, after Jason was done with her? What then?
Would Dream escape at once? Would he keep her safe from Jason?
For he would kill her when he was done. He'd have to.
There was no way he would allow her to walk away. Not if it meant she could involve the authorities.
Her breaths came out in short frantic bursts.
Could she really go through with this?
It wasn't too late to quietly pack her bags and disappear and… and… leave a dream in a the waking world to fend for itself.
"I'm worried about my little brother."
"Screw you, Dee. You didn't have to tell me that, but you knew, didn't you?" Hope's voice cracked a bit. "You knew that I–that I'd care enough about you to want to help."
She knew she couldn't turn her back, not after she had seen him like that, naked and vulnerable, perhaps a bit broken. Not even if it meant she could die.
He had been trapped in that godawful fishbowl for over a century!
A century!
And, just like Harry the goldfish, who had been alone after his buddy Larry died, the King of Dreams was alone, and no one here seemed to fucking care that maybe the death of his raven had killed something inside of him.
A heart-rendering dream had haunted her about that exact moment.
Even though she didn't know how the raven had met its end, in her dream, she watched Jessamy–or rather, she was Jessamy–flying down to the basement to help her Dream Lord. And he smiled when he saw her! A heart-breaking, beautiful smile: warm, wholly grateful, relieved, and utterly unguarded.
That's what he looks like when he cares, she thought when she looked at him gazing at his friend, coming to his aid with such aching tenderness. And then Jessamy exploded in a cloud of blood and feathers, and that beautiful expression changed to one of such pain, disbelief, and grief…
And she'd bolted upright with a broken cry, her cheeks wet with tears.
So, here she was, desperately trying to calm herself, even though dread had turned her into smoke; she was indistinguishable from the night.
All that was left was fear.
Deep breaths in, deep breaths out.
She could do this. She had to do this. She would do this.
Because everyone deserved someone to be on their side, to fight for them… to give a damn.
And she knew that what she was going to allow to happen, if she survived at all, it would not break her.
She only hoped that, once she was able to break the circle, the King of Dreams would have mercy on her soul and protect her from further harm.
The music returns to the first and second themes of the piece and climaxes with the full orchestra playing very strong dynamics.
Hope descended the stairs, heart beating in her throat, the pot of coffee shaking in her hand.
With each step that took her further down, her insides quivered and bleated with fear.
Don't do this. Don't be stupid. Don't throw away your life for a being who can't die anyway and who won't even care whether you live or die.
She ignored the voice in her head telling her to cut and run, because, in her opinion it was an unthinkable cruelty to capture a living being, immortal or no, and keep him trapped in a glass cage for over a century! Stripped of his possessions, his freedom–even his dignity!–and cut off from his realm.
If she were to bail on him now, when she was actually in a position to help him, she was no better than the monsters that had done this to him.
That thought made the prospect of her possible death a little easier.
Because she'd rather die a thousand horrible deaths than allow her soul to be tainted in such a way.
With the soft echoes of her footsteps filling her ears, Hope stepped through the open gate and entered the dungeon.
Jason was nowhere to be seen.
Quickly, Hope set the pot of coffee on the desk. She licked her lips, her eyes darting to the glass sphere, illuminated by faint rays of light falling in through the skylights.
He was sitting in the exact same position she'd last seen him in and he looked at her from underneath his lashes. It was the only movement he allowed her to see. Otherwise he was utterly still, his face taut and grim, set in marble, his eyes blazing with loathing, contempt.
If she was really quick, maybe she could run up to the sphere and quickly break the circle and be done with it without actually having to…
Her feet were already bringing her closer to the glass sphere, over the bridge.
She was so close!
Heart hammering in her throat, blood pounding in her ears, her quick breaths forming little clouds before dissipating immediately… just a few feet away from the circle, Hope opened her mouth to say… something.
Slowly, Dream rose to his feet and, though he was skin over bones, the muscle movements as he raised himself to almost his full length, was a thing of otherworldly beauty.
It left her completely without words, her mouth still hanging open.
Then their eyes met… and locked.
And it was too much like staring at the sun directly.
She could hardly stand his gaze boring into her. They were intense and… searching… and for a second she thought she could feel them rifling through her soul. Sorting through all of her flaws and imperfections.
Hope could feel a rush of heat sweep across her cheekbones as she weathered the impact of his observation.
His eyes then rounded imperceptibly and a wary look crept into them.
He said nothing.
But someone behind her did.
"You have no idea how long I've waited for this moment." Jason's voice whispered huskily in her ear. "Did you know that, when a woman dies, her vaginal walls contract in a most peculiar, delicious way? It's fucking amazing."
Oh, you've got to be shitting me!
That she had not seen coming and it could possibly complicate things.
Dream's intense stare released her, though she still kept her eyes on him.
A surge of anger darkened his features and he slammed his hand against the glass in helpless rage.
He moved his face closer and Hope could see his eyes shift.
They… expanded… somehow, became deeper, darker. And in their depths, swirling round a cluster of stars, she could see wrath. It was terrifying.
And yet, seeing that wrath finally managed to still her fears.
She moved her lips, without making a sound.
It's okay.
His fingers trembled against the glass.
"You'll die of course," Jason said, "but with Silent Boy here, I can just spin a tale about you trying to free him and old Burgess will take care of the rest. Now, this might hurt a bit. Don't worry, you won't die immediately, you and I are going to have a bit of fun first."
A sharp stab of pain pushed in from her back to right between her ribs with a sickening, wet, tearing sound, and she gasped in pain.
So, slight change of plans then, she thought as she dropped to her knees, her hands scraping against the floor. Her plans for survival had hinged on the fact that Jason would try to kill her after he was done with her and she'd have had enough time to break the circle, and the hope that Dream of the Endless would have enough empathy left in him to prevent her death from happening.
She'd not taken a possible sexual deviation into account.
Not that it mattered much.
And, looking on the bright side, she didn't have to wait months to see her friend again.
Jason dragged up her skirt and Hope decided it was time to mentally check out.
There was a brief, agonizing moment when he pulled the knife from between her ribs and she cried out in pain as blood started to flow. But, by the time he used the knife on her panties she was already playing Dance Macabre on her beloved violin in her mind, her fingers making the movements on the floor, through the paint of the binding circle.
She vaguely had a sense of her body scraping back and forth against the floor, but she was too occupied by the music she was conjuring and what her fingers were doing to really notice.
Time became a bit muddled and she started to feel a bit light-headed.
A particularly harsh thrust forward broke her concentration a bit and made her cry out in pain, though it sounded more like a bit of a gurgle.
Shit, so he's an ass guy!
It surprised her because he'd mentioned a specific kind of sensation to be had in the body of a dying woman.
She was a bit done with surprises for the moment. In fact, as her vision blurred and her fingers stopped moving, she realized she was done period.
That's when she vaguely sensed Jason change entrance. But horror only set in when she saw that, just out of her fingers reach, there was still a small portion of the circle that was still connected.
She was dying and the Lord of Dreams still wasn't any closer to freedom.
The irony was exquisite.
Then there is an abrupt break in the texture of the music and the coda represents the dawn breaking–a cockerel's crow, played by the oboe–and the skeletons returning to their graves. And that, ladies and gentleman, is the Dance Macabre.
As the music in her mind became a jumble of disconnected notes, Hope could distantly hear Jason groan and a passionate thrust had her shoving forward… and her fingers moved through the last bit of paint, finally breaking the circle.
There was a vague sense of her mind starting to float away.
At some point Jason's groans turned to screams.
Then there were gunshots. More screaming. And she was floating.
A bright flash of light dazzled her. It looked a bit like light at the end of a tunnel.
But even more radiant.
There was the sound of mighty wings flapping.
Voices arguing.
One of them achingly familiar.
Careful arms lifted her, cradled her and then she heard her friend say: "You utter, utter fool! You are completely mental, you know that? I'm of half a mind to send you off to the Sunless Lands even though you're not one of my appointments today. You've got a lot of explaining to do."