DrabbleWriMo 12: Grief

[igenlode]

Always one of the chief moments in the book for me (which may be why I managed it about five hours earlier than last night...)

And so this — this! — was how she looked when she was truly happy...

He would have given his soul to be the one who brought that glimpse of paradise to her face; instead he had shattered his honour, lied and suffered on the edge of a volcano of hate to keep her from the husband whom it seemed she had loved all along. Gaston de Trélan was at her feet at last with the hard-won laurels she had so long desired for him, and he, Artus de Brencourt, had destroyed himself in vain.

Half-blind, he turned away and mounted, stumbling.