(no subject)
Title: Colder By Far
Fandom: Dracula
Prompt List: Off With Her Head
Prompt: Ephemera. "The scent of loss, love and the echo of time without end: sorrowful violet and chamomile with muguet, white geranium, calla lily and tea rose with a hint of autumn leaves.."
Rating: T
Characters/Pairings: Jonathan/Brides, Jonthan/Mina
Summary: When he attempts to escape the castle, one of Dracula's brides implores Jonathan not to leave her.
The halls of the castle were filled with whispers. Jonathan could hide from the monsters as best he could, but he could not escape the crushing claustrophobia that came with being entombed among the dead. When first he had seen his host’s demonic consorts, his fear of them had been mixed with desire, his longing for the far away Mina turned to hunger for any fair-faced willing female. The more he thought on them, though, the less he desired. He could try to conjure up their image in his head, but rather than their ruby mouths and slender hands, all he saw were bones and teeth.
Why, then, did their voices ring in his head?
It must have been the loneliness that came with being a prisoner, but he heard them speak to him and found himself answering. His body still shook from the terrors of meeting them the night before, adding to Jonathan’s suspicion that he imagined all of it. Still, it was almost comforting to have someone to converse with, even if she was nothing but a nightmare.
You have a woman, he says. Is that why you do not want me? You are colder by far than the dead.
Jonathan could have told her that she was an unholy creature, and that he despised her as he might despise any murderer. Instead, he answered a question she had not asked. He told her that Mina was the cleverest woman he knew, that her hair was the color of falling leaves, and that her smile filled him with a pleasurable pain. He whispered these things into the empty halls not only for her benefit but his own. Remembering his love meant he had something to live for, a reason to survive.
It must be grand to be loved so dearly. I cannot remember a time when men spoke thus of me. Does she love you in return?
Yes, came the answer in his mind. Even in the darkness and sickness of the Count’s castle, he was more sure of that than his own sanity.
“But you,” he said, “would know nothing of a woman’s love.”
No, I would not. My lord did not win me to his side with sweet words of flattery. He murdered me and dragged my body to his bedside, where I lie to this day. Perhaps he will do the same to you.
Jonathan shook his head as if to rid it of the echo of her voice (for it was but one woman he had been conversing with, of that he was increasingly sure.) He could not think of what might happen to him or he would lose what hope and reason still remained. Instead he tried to focus on her, and found that he could manage a touch of pity for the creature. It must have been a fate worse than death in the literal sense, the loneliness and powerlessness he now felt magnified by eternal years.
One night, he will let us kiss you. I will claim your death as my own, and your love will be mine along with your blood.
Though this was no question, it was easy enough to answer.
“Perhaps I will kill you instead, with your sisters and your terrible lord.”
Oh! You are a gentleman, Jonathan Harker. If you laid me to rest once and for all, I would die with a smile upon my lips.
Her words might have been another form of seduction, Jonathan realised with horror. If her caresses had failed to capture him, perhaps a story of woe could do the same. He did his best to block the voice from his mind, thinking again of escape. But if she could hear his answers, could she read his thoughts and stop his flight?
He would have to chance it. Failing to escape and being dragged back would be better than simply sitting and waiting to be slaughtered. One final entry in his journal, that he might leave his story if his body was found broken at the foot of the castle. He would leave no record of his conversation with the woman, and if he were lucky he might forget that it had ever occurred.
I might love you, Jonathan. My sisters are cruel and my lord crueller. Kill me or let me kill you, but do not leave me alone in my coffin!
“She is the cleverest woman I know, her hair is the color of falling leaves, and her smile is sweeter than your words.” He let the words fall off his tongue and fill his mind, pushing away all thought of his plan. If the woman could read his thoughts, let her have nothing but his love for Mina. Would she chase him? He heard no footsteps down the cold hall, so perhaps she could not move at all while the sun was high. If he waited, there would be no more chances.
When he stepped onto the window ledge, his second to last thought was of the terrible women, and a prayer that someone might some day grant them the sleep of true death. But his last thought was of Mina, and a vow that he would live to see her smile once more.