When they first came to Skyhold, Thayes couldn't imagine it growing colder--but it had somehow, the brisk air turning bitterly cold. Even with the balcony doors shut tight and the fireplace roaring, she had to move quickly through her room. The only place that felt warm enough was the bed, and she felt spoiled, spending much more time in that bed than was strictly necessary to sleep.
Surely it had been cold at home, too. She remembered lying in her bedroll and shivering, her toes so icy that they nearly felt like someone else's flesh when she touched them. But that had been part of life, a little misery that tempered all the joys of knowing her clan were only a few footsteps away and that they were free to live as they chose.
She was changing with every day she was part of the Inquisition, and moments when she was lying alone under heaps of blankets, wondering whether everyone at home was safe.
It wasn't so bad when Josephine was there. One evening, a week out from the close of the year, they sat together together in that too-soft bed, enjoying the warm glow of the fireplace. It had been an exhausting day: arguments over the war table, so many letters to write that Josephine's hand had cramped halfway through, and sparring with the Iron Bull that had left Thayes dragging herself up the steps to her bedchamber, leaden-legged.
That night, like many nights before it, Josephine had changed into a ruffled nightgown that now made its home in the same drawer as Thayes' clothing and huddled up in bed with her knees drawn up to her chest. Thayes slipped in behind her, her own nightclothes far plainer, and ran her hands through Josephine's hair, carefully plucking out each hairpin she found and setting it on the bedside table. Slowly, gently, she unwound and unbraided the thick locks until they tumbled free down Josephine's back in an ink-dark cascade.
Thayes reached over for her bone comb, the one that had traveled with her since she left the Free Marches, where it sat next to the pile of hairpins necessary to keep Josephine's locks bound up for the day. She began at the ends of Josephine's long hair, using her fingers and comb alike to smooth snarls and untangle the little twisted hanks of hair that never quite wanted to behave.
"Did you celebrate First Day in the Free Marches?" Josephine asked. Thayes liked the way she asked questions like that one. It never felt like Josephine was trying to suss out what exactly it was elves did once they were out of human sight, only that she wanted to know more about Thayes herself.
"Not the way we celebrated other holidays. On First Day, we'd spend time together, of course, but it was...quiet." In the depths of winter, their stores of food had usually dwindled. Last year, sickness had taken her cousin Avel's new daughter only a few days before, and no one had wanted to celebrate anything. "We'd tell stories, though, and talk about what we wanted from the year. Do they celebrate it in Antiva?"
"Oh, yes." The words were accompanied by a happy little sigh. Thayes wasn't sure if it was for the thought of First Day or the way the comb's teeth scraped gently over Josephine's back. "In Antiva, we'd stay up until the small hours of the night before. Everyone had parties. And then, fish soup for the afternoon's meal--fish soup is essential to First Day in Antiva City. Celebrating without it would be like...like going to a ball in Orlais without a mask."
"It sounds like one long party. Do you have a nap before your soup?"
Josephine laughed, giving the tiniest shake of her head. "Sleeping is for after the first day of the year. But when I was a little girl, I could never manage to stay awake as long as my parents. My brothers and sister and I, we'd end up curled up in a heap in a corner of the room. Mother and Father never sent us to bed the way they would for other parties." After a moment, she added, "There's a song, actually. You stay up through the night with your guests, and when the sun rises, you sing...Douse the torches, brothers and sisters. Douse the torches, greet the new sun."
If Josephine had a substantial singing voice, she didn't use it then. Listening to her sing was like hearing a lullaby: soft and gentle, with a warmth that conjured all kinds of images of Josephine in her element amidst family and friends. Next year--if they all survived to the next First Day and had time enough to leave Skyhold more frequently--perhaps that would be Josephine again, somewhere in Val Royeaux or Antiva City. And Thayes, too, she hoped. In quiet moments, when no one was there to catch her, she'd imagine meeting Josephine's family, and if things were going well in the Inquisition, she pictured them welcoming her without reservation.
"It sounds nice." So much of it was difficult to imagine--the bounty of food that meant Antivans could designate a specific dish for the holiday, especially--but Thayes liked the idea of it.
"It is. Next year--" words that startled Thayes to hear, because they meant Josephine indulged in the same small hopes as she--"next year, we will have a truly Antivan First Day. That is, if you'd like."
Thayes smiled at the way Josephine ducked her head slightly, as though she'd recalled that this was a conversation rather than a daydream. She'd felt the same way on more than one occasion, telling Josephine her secret castles in the air and finding her cheeks darkening as she realized just how close to her heart the ideas actually were. "I would. I've never had a truly Antivan holiday before."
Once Josephine's hair rippled and shone in the firelight, Thayes leaned forward, pressing a kiss to a shoulder that, even at night, was hidden beneath a puffed sleeve. Josephine reached back blindly, searching for Thayes' hand, and squeezed it gently when she found it. "I believe it is my turn."
It never took quite as long to take down Thayes' hair and brush it out, but Josephine took the matter seriously all the same, setting Thayes' leather hair tie down reverently next to her little hill of pins. She favoured long, gentle strokes with the comb, one hand resting at Thayes' ear, ready to turn her head one way or another as needed.
"I know you are leaving again tomorrow," Josephine said quietly, and Thayes' ears twitched. As much as she cared for her work with the Inquisition, remembering her duties at times like this felt like catching sight of an intruder at the door. There was always something waiting for her doing, lurking just outside the light cast by the fireplace. "But--if you can, come back for First Day. I would like to see you, if I could."
Of all people, Josephine understood the expectations the current situation placed upon Thayes. She rarely made requests of Thayes' time outside the war room, and she wasn't the sort of lover to sigh loudly over being separated. If she asked this, it was truly important to her...and, Thayes suspected, one of the rare moments in which she allowed herself to voice even a fraction of her concerns for Thayes' safety.
"I'll bring some fish soup with me," Thayes promised, hoping the words were light enough to reassure her. "It might be dried fish, of course..."
The steady movement of the comb paused. Josephine wrapped her arms around Thayes, pulling her into close embrace, her cheek resting against Thayes' dark hair. Thayes' chest buzzed with a warmth that had nothing to do with the fire crackling across the room. "I'd rather have you than fish soup."
"If I can," she whispered back, tilting her head so she could seal the promise with a kiss, "you know I will."
"I do." Josephine let her go and, after what Thayes presumed was a glance over her work, ran a gentle hand over Thayes' hair. When she spoke again, the concealed worry had left her voice. "I think it's high time we slept, my love."
"Mmm." It took little time to slide beneath the heavy blankets, stretching her cold toes towards the brass bed warmer tucked into the covers at the foot of the bed--Mythal, she was spoiled here--and to slide an arm around Josephine's waist. "Josephine..."
"Yes?" A yawn caught her in the middle of the word, and she laughed under her breath. "Excuse me."
"If--if I can't come back." The words came out in a rush, quiet and sorry. She never wanted to speak those words, suggest something beyond if travel up the mountain takes longer than usual, but she couldn't leave things as they were. "Happy First Day, ma sa'lath."
Josephine didn't speak; for a few moments, she didn't even breathe, her body no longer rising and falling beneath Thayes' arm. Then she sighed, dipping her head to kiss Thayes one more time. "Happy First Day, my love."
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