Spoilers for 5x03 and heavy angst ahoy. The muse wants what the muse wants. A little exercise in the art of writing which I haven't done in a million ages. I knew this storyline would do the trick.
the bones of me
On the arm of a stranger, she sees, with perfect clarity, what her life used to be.
The shimmer of a ballroom in the twinkle of his eye.
The hint of a long-forgotten courting waltz in the note of approval as he encourages her to continue.
Adventure, she recalls; a brave explorer. A buccaneer, proudly invading a foreign land.
She cannot help but bask in warmth of his attention - she is once again a coltish and gracelessly coquettish youth - and the rush of desire she feels is reflected in his gaze.
She blooms in the light of attention. She is her best self in the face of a challenge, and it has been so long since she has been challenged.
Heat suffuses her cheeks when he offers another unsolicited bit of flattery, but she is chilled by the realization of how much she has missed this.
This simple, uncomplicated state of being.
Of being wanted.
The sharp pang of loss stops her short and instantly banks her enthusiasm.
Goodnight, she hastily bids her suitor (she almost giggles at the outlandish thought) and rushes indoors.
She wants to go home, but is instead surprised to find home waiting for her in the parlor.
She longs to ask him if he recalls their first dance. The way she placed a hand on his arm as she took a slight (theatrical) stumble on the steps and careened into him breathlessly. They way they spoke for hours about everything and nothing. The nights he confided in her his fear of inadequacy for the life they stood to inherit one day. The future he painted of them ruling together, side by side. She, his treasured advisor and friend. He, her husband and dearest companion.
Instead the desire to reminisce withers at his icy reception. The brittleness of his rebuke rattles her bones and the flush of youth regained under the regard of a stranger recedes at once. In the harsh parlor lights she sees, with perfect clarity, what her life has become.
What they have become.
Once upon a time, she would have held her ground and held him accountable. Once upon a time, she would have eased him through his childish display of temper to a mutually beneficial conclusion.
Once upon a time, she saw the point. Once upon a time, he saw her.
Instead she turns and heads to bed alone.