(a memory that involves romance/love)
Warning, bit of a downer ahead! I’ve had this scene in my head for so long, and have wanted to actually confront Trea’s grief in full for so long, that I kinda got a bit intimidated. Glad I finally got to it, though. There’s something so satisfying about writing angst that’s been brewing in the background for so long. So, thanks very much for the prompts! Trea Adaar x Josephine Montilyet for @dadrunkwriting & @hell5bell5 / @bitchesofostwick & @tevivinter.
The fireflies are glittering all around her, dipping and dancing at the direction of her fingertips. She circles with them, relishing the feeling of grass between her bare feet. She laughs when she manages to catch one, peeking through her fingertips to watch the flicker, before opening her hands in an arc to watch it fly away again. She glances at her mother a few feet away, sitting against the tree with her eyes closed and hands folded in her lap. The image is jarring, she knows it is, but can’t quite figure out why.
Bringing a hand to wipe away the sweat beading on her forehead, she rushes forward. “Can we swim for a bit? Please?” She takes her mother’s hands in hers and tugs a few times.
Her mother looks up, smiles in a way that makes the edges of her vision blur, and squeezes her hands gently. “It’s getting dark, imekari. We should be heading back soon.”
“Oh, but please? Just for a little while?” Her insistent tugs bring her mother to her feet and she grins despite her determination to be pouty and convincing. “It’s just so hot and I wanted to show you my strokes! I’m so good at them! Please?”
Her mother laughs and scoops her up to sit on her shoulders. “Fine, fine, you win. But just for a little while. Are you ready?” Her mother asks as she approaches the nearby lake’s shoreline. She just claps in response and giggles.
“Yes, yes!” Warm hands grab her from under her arms before she’s being tossed into the lake, flying through the air before hitting the surface with a splash.
Trea wakes up with a start, the feeling of falling washing over her for the quick second it takes to jerk upright. The dream is still flooding her senses. She swears she can still smell the lake, the summer wind, the grass of the meadow. She looks down at her hands, struggling to catch her breath, blinking furiously to rid herself of the flickering that lingers across her vision. Her skin is calloused, rough and dry, but it’s the shaking she focuses on, the way her fingers look so empty, the way they feel so...
Her throat is tight and the room is starting to spin. Trying to keep her wet gasps quiet is not doing her breathing any favors. She swallows thickly and carefully pulls back the covers, moving to stand and escape out to the balcony when a hand brushes against her wrist.
“Trea?” Josephine’s sleepy voice sounds and it only tightens Trea’s chest further. “Is something wrong?”
Her feet touch the floor as she sits on the edge of the bed, leaning forward and dropping her head in her hands. She doesn’t trust herself to speak, just closes her eyes and tries to focus on evening out her breathing. The sheets rustle behind her and then Josephine’s hand presses to her shoulder, trails its way down, rubs gentle circles against her lower back. Trea’s breath catches and she hates herself for it, trying to cover it up with a cough rather than let the sob escape her scratchy throat.
“Please let me...I wish you would...I wish I...” Josephine struggles for words and Trea glares at the floor. She doesn’t know what to say. For once, she’s the one who can’t find the words. And it’s because of you. She deserves better. Josephine lets out a breath. “I want to fix this for you, I want to help. Even if it is only to listen, I would rather you—”
“It was just a dream,” Trea shakes her head. “I’m fine.”
Josephine presses a kiss to the top of her spine and she shivers. “A nightmare. Maybe if you tell me—”
“No, a dream.” Trea pushes off the bed. “Or...or a memory. But it couldn’t have been. It couldn’t. She would never be so...so...”
“Who?” Josephine’s voice is barely above a whisper and Trea’s fists clench.
“My mother.” Her voice wavers at the admission and she clears her throat. She starts pacing alongside the bed. “But it felt so real. It felt like it happened before, or it could have. If things hadn’t...it was just a dream. I know that. But I’ve never wanted to fall back asleep so badly. Just to...just so that we could...I just needed more time.”
Josephine presses against her in a hug from behind, pausing her pacing and holding her close. “Cálmate, cariña. Breathe.”
Trea isn’t sure when she finally lost the battle, but she can feel the tears run down her cheeks now and her every breath catch in her throat. “I woke up and it hurt. It hurt and I actually...missed her.” Trea’s voice broke into a short laugh, a scoff at the very thought. “Isn’t that funny? I missed her. Her, the woman who drove me away, the woman I could never hope to please. The first person I ever knew, the only person I had for years.
“And I don’t even know if I’m missing a real person, or fragments of a person that could have been, a collection of childish fantasies. Just stupid hopes and dreams.” Trea crosses her arms over her chest, holding tight and pressing hard. Josephine’s hands around her middle feel like feathers in comparison. “I don’t know what to think anymore, I don’t know how to make it make sense. I mean fuck, it’s been weeks since the funeral and this is the first time I’ve cried, I’m...” She lets out a breath and every nerve ending inside her buzzes at the sudden feeling of calm that washes over her senses. “She was right. I’m just a shitty excuse for a person.”
Josephine’s embrace drops away as she suddenly spins Trea around. Her gaze is hard, even as her hands brush up to gently wipe Trea’s cheeks dry. “Stop this. Don’t go there. You know that’s not true.” Trea can’t meet her gaze and her chin drops to her chest. “I know that’s not true.”
Her voice is feather-light and it makes Trea wince. All she can do is shake her head.
Slowly, as if not to startle her, Josephine takes large hands in her own smaller ones and guides them both back to bed. With gentle nudges and gestures, she gets Trea to lay down and curled into her chest, bringing the blankets up around them again.
Trea can’t help but feel ridiculous, all coiled in like a child. Her knees bent up and her hands folded in close, she barely fits in the embrace of Josephine’s much smaller form. She can’t imagine what it looks like — a big, burly qunari, the Inquisitor herself, on the verge of tears once more because of a simple embrace. She squeezes her eyes shut.
“All of this is just... This will pass, my love.” Josephine says in a whisper before pressing a kiss to Trea’s forehead. “Everything will look better in the morning. Just sleep now.” She doesn’t sound convinced by her own words and Trea bites her lip. She can’t blame her.
But she opens her eyes and resolves to stay awake. She can’t afford the risk of dreaming again.