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Hopenkel was not expecting the knock at his door, especially at this hour. Or in general. He had not yet finished his tower for living, and his spells should have hidden it from any mortal eye to see.
He got up from his desk, placing his quill down and going to answer the door. He was a gentleman, after all. Not, however, before picking up his silver rapier. Strangely, the only thing on the side of his spruce door was air. Sensing a trap, Hopenkel peered down the tall hallway, searching for any suspicious signs. Another knock, rapping against some surface.
He turned around looking at his elegant and translucent windows across the room. He let out a breath, smiling the slightest bit. Walking past his desk, he put down the sword and went to the window. The figure outside it knocked again, and Hopenkel began unlatching the window.
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” he said, hearing the warmth in his own voice.
On the outside of the tower, perching in the windowsill, was his sister, Dem’Verga.
“Sister, I understand you want to visit me, but my tower is nearly complete,” he said, stepping back to allow the woman in, “Please, just take the stairs.”
“Too many of them,” she said dismissively, stepping into the room and taking a breath. There was some strange air around her that the silver dragon couldn’t put his finger on. “I like what you’ve done with the place, brother. I was tired of the bandits running the thing.” The complement seemed not insincere, but it was filled with something behind it. Like it was distracted.
“Sister, what’s wrong?” Hopenkel asked, stepping up and taking his sister’s hands. Sadness. There was a sadness there. That was the problem.
She didn’t reply for a long moment and though the two were about the same eye height, she didn’t look at him. Instead, she spoke. “Is your ballroom complete?”
“I… yes. I completed it a few weeks ago,” Hopenkel replied.
“And the piano?”
“Repaired. Why?”
“Come with me,” she said, releasing one hand and dragging her brother out the door he had just previously checked, down the thin hallway filled with stairs.
Seeming that she knew where she was going, Hopenkel let the black dragon lead him through his tower. She didn’t look back as she did, allowing him to study his sister. She wore a simple but well made black dress, almost like a party dress. It wasn’t form fitting and sleek like the dresses she usually saw her in, but more free for movement. For dancing. Simple but well crafted jewelry adorned her wrists and neck.
What fanciful event has she dressed up for?
As they went through the winding hallways and enchantments in progress, Hopenkel slowly realized they were heading to where he had placed the balcony with his piano, raised above the ballroom where he planned to host parties of people. He couldn’t wait for the days of the future when he could have a whole massive room of people listening to music and dancing.
Dem’Verga dragged him over for their railing, eyeing the fantastical carving of the marble and stone decorating the ceiling. She also gazed at the tall, elegant windows on the wall behind them, arching and showing the bright silver moon behind them. The design of the floor were both designed with discreet dragons, detailed only if you truly looked for it.
Hopenkel was so proud of the entire thing, every time he looked at it, his chest swelled with joy.
“You appreciate their art, too, don’t you?” she whispered, overlooking the entire room.
“I appreciate more than their art. I appreciate their culture. Their resilience,” Hopenkel replied. Dem’Verga looked at him. “Even after wars so devastating that their eldest elves still weep, they continue to dance,” he whispered.
“And some don’t,” the black dragon whispered, more to herself than anything, “Some dance alone and curse the gods.”
Hopenkel tipped his head and looked back at her. She was still continuing to stare at the room instead. Before he could reply, however, she spoke. “Play for me.”
“What?” She grabbed his hand, pulling him over to the piano and sat him down, one of the only people he allowed to do so.
“Play for me!” she insisted, leaving him and, instead of using the stairs five feet to her right, leaped off the banister, landing without a sound and running to the center of the ballroom with nothing but a small flourish of her dress. She turned and looked again at him, that mix of joy and that touch of hurt still there. She seemed almost childlike and playful but also so grown, that sadness ever present.
He sighed, enjoying the moment of playfulness and said, “What do I play?”
“You’ll know,” she said, almost to herself, “Just play.”
And so he did. He began playing for his sister.
He didn’t know where he was going at first. It was an unfinished story he wasn’t sure where the ending would be. How fast paced it would be. Mournful or exciting. Adventurous or filled with disaster. Pain. It would be pain. He could feel hers. But surely it couldn’t all be? There was betrayal there too. A cry for help to the gods.
She went unanswered.
And so he did play for her. With her. And she danced along with it. What the medley was in the moment, so was her dancing. Fast or slow. Loud and dramatic or quiet and mournful. He couldn’t entirely see what she was always doing, but he could tell, he knew that it was beautiful. Art.
And suddenly, he knew where the song was going. He knew what flourishes would be played where, what keys to be pressed and how to craft his entire story. The crescendos and pauses were like a well built castle, woven together with the strongest mortar and made to stand. Made to protect.
Hopenkel wished with everything that he could stop whatever was hurting her, wished he could protect her from every pain available. Wished more than anything that he could protect his little sister.
But it was too late. She was already hurt.
All he could do was play for her. So he did.
The moon was extra bright tonight, and while the silver dragon was sure there was no sort of blessing from Du’Vetr going on, he was thankful for it. Just the two of them, a quiet moment for once. The night; it was a representation of the two of them, was it not? Silver stars and a moon surrounded by a black, shapeless void. And with the night brought the music of the wild life, the dancing of the twinkling stars. One of his favorite things about Monumi. And so he played not just for his sister, not just for himself, but everyone. For every experience as a whole. Love and grief and life. For his sister.
When it was over, when the song ended, Hopenkel, to his shock, felt tears sparkling in his eyes. He looked away from the piano keys to across the room where his sister had paused, as if standing on a precipice, waiting for the end of a song that had already passed. There were tears tracing their way down her face, dripping on to the floor below her, falling with a sort of sizzle on the ground.
There was a long silence for what could have lasted anywhere from fifteen seconds to hours. Eventually, the black dragon dropped her arms and began gently pacing toward the stairs which she had previously refused to use.
“Dem’Verga,” Hopenkel spoke softly, raising from his seat behind the grand piano and tried taking her hands in his, only to be ignored as she walked before the tall, arched windows and opened one. Suddenly, she looked at him, slowly, as if she had come out of the trance she had been in. Tears still slipped down her face, but she was as silent as death in the moment.
She gave a small, sad smile to him, even as she took his hands in hers.
“Goodbye, Hopenkel,” she said quietly, that mournful look still behind her eyes.
With that, she dropped his hands, barely reacting as she lifted herself into the windowsill and let herself slip away into the night, leaving her brother to wonder if he would ever see her again.