The year’s end celebration: feasting and dancing and bonfires. At the Citadel there is candlelight; scent of cedar and fir and exotic spices; elegantly garbed and perfumed guests: the Lord Steward’s mettarë ball.
As she turns, smiling, to welcome a shy guest; as he bends, thoughtfully, to greet an old ally: their eyes meet, and a spark - a nearly palpable burst of light and heat.
Ah, the unspoken words transmitted upon the power of that glance!
Dear one, husband, how handsome you are tonight! I wish –
Would that this evening were over, my Finduilas, my love! My jewel. My precious.
A holiday gift for Astara, because writing drabbles is easier than visiting the Hallmark store. I can visualize this scene so well - John Noble and Sophie Marceau, perhaps? Much like Anna Karenina, and also with an unhappy end.