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linger

Summary:

Quỳnh wakes up in Andromache's arms for the first time in half a millennium.

“You’re awake,” she whispers.
 She sounds marveled but also terrified. All Quýnh feels is bone-deep tired.
 Quỳnh’s throat seems to be made of nothing but dust in that moment, but she manages to croak out, “You saved me. Why?”

Notes:

Prompt fill for Day 12 of February Ficlet Challenge "Linger", Fluffuary 2026 "Caretaking", and Femslash February "Eyes".

Work Text:

 Quỳnh woke up in Andromache’s arms.

 Half a millennium ago, her body wouldn’t have betrayed a single reaction, accustomed as it was to her warmth.

 Now, it felt like a distant dream to feel her touch. A lifetime had passed since the last time she was encircled by Andromache’s body—a lifetime that had been marked by the unrelenting pace of the ocean, by each wave that reaped her life time and time again.

 And, yet, even five hundred years of torture hadn’t destroyed Quỳnh’s memories—or the foolishness of her heart. When her eyes blink awake, it’s not to her stranger surroundings or her aching stomach they wander to.

 It’s to Andromache.

 Her eyes are wide and tired but still come to life when they register she has regained consciousness.

 There’s an echo of familiarity when Andromache’s hand comes up to drag her hair away from her face. 

 She’s painfully aware of every point of contact between them. Her back is lying against Andromache’s chest, her arms circling her, her legs caging her body. With one hand, she’s pressing a towel to her forehead, and with the other, Andromache’s fingers linger on her cheek.

Quỳnh’s neck crooks in an uncomfortable position with the effort she makes to keep staring at Andromache.

 “You’re awake,” she whispers.

 She sounds marveled but also terrified. All Quýnh feels is bone-deep tired.

 Quỳnh’s throat seems to be made of nothing but dust in that moment, but she manages to croak out, “You saved me. Why?”

 Andromache lays the towel down but doesn’t move her body away, her hand cradling Quỳnh’s face. Her gaze lingers on hers, saying a thousand things they can’t bear to speak out loud. Andromache laughs, bitter and hollow. “How could I not? That’s what we do. We protect each other.”

 It’s all the answer she provides for the rest of the night, but Quỳnh holds her words close to her chest when she falls asleep again, for once not feeling the water filling her lungs when darkness surrounds her.

 All she can feel is Andromache’s arms holding her closer, tucking her against her chest like her body is a miracle she can’t afford to let go of.

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