Stargazing | Arabella & Diana
Arabella treasured moments like this: the quiet ones when the world felt still and she felt as though she might breathe.
It was late. She should be sleeping: they both should be. Tomorrow would be an early morning with little time to do much inbetween banquets and council meetings, but at that moment, Arabella didn’t care. She wanted this moment of carelessness to last just a little longer.
They stood out together, on her balcony. The sun had set long ago: the moon and stars now casting their light upon the White City. “It’s so beautiful,” Arabella breathed, “It looks so peaceful.” It amazed her: the difference in the city between night and day. It was so calm and quiet, just now. In just a few hours, it would be bustling again with activity. Not for the first time, it struck her how different it was here, than it was back home.
But this is your home now, a small, sad voice reminded her. Gloriet will be never be home again.
“Did you enjoy yourself this evening?” Arabella asked, turning to her friend, determined to think of happier things, “Who was the gentleman you danced so often with? The one who arrived with the Waynfletes?”
Bella was pensive tonight, and little wonder why. The days since the awful news of the late King’s death were a flurry of breathless, half-nonsensical action, but the nights seemed to stretch by and by and by. Dea, herself, had always held Glorianus in awe. It was a palace, to be sure: an awesome construction in the true sense of the word, as its intent was, indeed, to inspire awe. The effect was certainly achieved. Yet, as someone who had always felt most at home amongst trees and streams and flowers, it felt cold and austere. There was much, Dea was sure, she could come to love with time, but it remained more intimidating than comforting. Dea had no doubt her friend felt the same, though Arabella’s feelings must be significantly more complex, for this had been always the home of her father and even Dea felt the echoes of him everywhere.
Reaching out, Dea wound her arm through Bella’s, companionably. Dea missed King August, as well. Of course, he was not her father and her own grief could not, she was certain, begin to compare to Bella’s, but she missed him, as well. He always been good to her and, too, he had always been good to Avenia. Dea had no doubts that Bella would do his memory justice, but she also recognized it as a most daunting task. For all the gold and diamonds, Dea could never envy Bella’s new position. No, for all its stresses, she preferred her own position infinitely. She should never wish to have lives rest upon her shoulders.
“It’s a beautiful night, isn’t it?” asked Dea softly as they peered up towards the moon. A warm zephyr stirred their hair and the gossamer of their gowns, rifling mischievously through the leaves of those trees that stood in magisterial attendance upon the palace. “I think those breezes blow from home,” she added, cheerfully. “See? It’s always with us, isn’t it?”
At the sound of Arabella’s question, Dea broke into a wide grin. “I did!” she exclaimed. In truth, she probably would have raved about the evening just to coax a smile from her friend, but in this case, she had enjoyed herself. Dea loved spectacles and parties and lively interaction second only to similar joys in nature, but she was also devoted to every new experience she’d ever had. For all that there was much that was intimidating, Dea had found much to like about their new lifestyle, as well.
“Very much. Has there ever been so cheerful a night of dancing? And oh! Those tarts chef made were just divine. Do you ever recall feasting so well at Gloriet? I, for one, do not! I don’t think I’ve ever passed such a night! Tell me, Bella, what was your favorite course? Oh! And whom,” she added, eyes glinting with teasing mischief. “Did you best like as a dance partner?” She paused. “Prince Alexander - is that how we should call him? - seemed utterly mesmerized! I believe you could quite gobble him up and he’d thank you most assiduously.” Dea, inexperienced as she was, had yet to fully take in the differences between political courtesy and genuine inclination when both were well and politely executed.
Dea turned to lean against the railing at the sound of Arabella’s second question. She was pink and quite tickled with herself, biting her lip. “Oh, Bella, since everyone is quite asleep, I don’t mind telling you something I’d not tell another living soul! Much as I delight in making conquests, myself, I think in this instance a conquest has at last been made of myself. He is Thomas, Lord Langrave, and I fancy he is quite as much smitten with me as I with him. He could scarcely keep his eyes off me, all night! And we spoke endlessly. He is Prince David’s - are we to call him that? - second usher.”
