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Sometimes I feel like I just wanna go back to my old ways
Historia woke up once again, drenched in a cold sweat. It had been about the 6th time in a couple of days where she woke up so abruptly, the 2nd this night alone. She wished everything could be as it once was, that she’d wake up and nothing would’ve actually happened, that this wasn’t actually her life. She’d be in her former lover’s- no, friend’s- warm embrace, instead of the unnaturally cold and plainly unflattering one of her “husband’s”.
You're telling me I'm silly, it's no fun in the old days
She still remembered snippets of Ymir’s voice, the memory slowly but surely slipping away. With her face now almost completely faded from her memory, she desperately clings to Ymir’s rare yet sweet laughter, telling her how silly she was after she bumped into Sasha on her way to storm out of the room at something the taller girl had said, she couldn’t remember what, exactly. She does remember how upset she was at the time but she’d do anything to go back to that day regardless.
I'm such a romantic, I never remember how things really happen
I guess you're attractive or something
Maybe it was the guilt seeping through her soul at her short time with her tall companion, but she remembers every memory much more fondly than they might have actually been. She knew about Ymir’s feelings but was too scared to reciprocate, the regret is deafening and the tears equally as sickening. She’d give everything she had and much more if it meant she could tell Ymir how truly attractive she thought she was to her, to compliment her, to let the woman know that Historia cared for her as much as she cared for Historia herself, but she was a coward. Now Ymir would never know.
Live in the moment, that's what they tell me
Eren stopped by once or twice, delivering a harsh dose of reality alongside him, but she never let that properly seep into her. She knew Ymir was gone but that last slyther within herself wouldn't properly process the news. It refused to. She refused to.
But what ever happened to when you would hold me
And hold me, and hold me
She missed her arms. Her slender yet muscular and rough arms. How they’d hold her into the night and not let go. She remembers not how their tradition started in the first place, but she’ll never forget the feel of them. How she fell asleep counting the abundance of freckles adorning them, proving to be on more parts of the older girl’s body than just her face. Historia would sometimes imagine what other places they might be found, each specific cluster of them or space of skin free of them that the other woman might’ve had. Even at 25 she won’t ever stop asking herself where they would’ve been and how they would be placed on the tan skin, knowing that she’ll now never know, her mind comforting that thought by giving her a different answer each time the question is brought up; hundreds of potential patterns having already crossed her mind or will have crossed it in years to come until each and every one is exhausted and she will have no other choice but to repeat them all again.
Girlfriend or girl, that's a friend?
The girls had a very strong bond, so much that people had even confused them for lovers. Of course, Hisoria would deny all claims of such a relationship between the two, but she’d always see Ymir’s disappointed face out of the corner of her eye. It was true, or at least she thought. The pair had never actually talked about their relationship outside of the realm of friendship but it sometimes even confused Historia herself. They did so many things that could come across a couple-y together that it would be no surprise that they might’ve been courting or something of the like without even realizing it. She’d never admit it before, but now she just wishes she could go back and kiss away the sadness out of Ymir’s expression every time she denied the idea of them ever being a romantic couple. She doesn’t know what she was thinking, maybe she wasn’t, but she knows that she’s always loved her, so why was it so hard to confront?
It's easy just to pretend
That we don't have something real, it's just how we feel
We feel
Oh, it's just how we feel
How we feel
Even now, she would never admit to anyone but herself her love for the other female. She doesn’t know why. She’s dead now, what difference does it make? She doubts her companions would have a problem with it, especially during a time in which many other problems are bigger than a woman loving another woman. Hell, they probably even already know, just never really brought it up. But her pride won’t let her. It never has. Despite everything, she still seeks the approval of others. If Ymir were alive, she probably wouldn’t be able to give her the love and appreciation she deserves. She is selfish. Ymir deserves better. She wouldn’t settle for better, though, Historia knew it, but would her pride get in the way of Ymir’s unconditional love? Would she just ruin things like she always does?
Her whole life is a stage play, and it fittingly ends in tragedy.
I'm feeling something right
I'm feeling something right
I'm feeling something right
I'm feeling something right
I'm feeling something right
I'm feeling something right
Historia can’t feel anything anymore. Well, she thinks. She can’t remember the last time she knew what she was actually feeling, if anything at all. She couldn't remember how it felt. She doesn’t know how or when it all started, probably around the time she read the letter, maybe during the wedding, she couldn’t distinguish a certain time. It just all happened.
She wants to remember how to be happy. Even to be sad, but nothing.
Maybe she is, but could she feel this empty if she were feeling anything at all?
I wanna be the one you think about at night
And I wanna be the one that you would put up a fight for
You know that I adore, that even when you're bored
I'd buy you anything and everything I can't afford
Maybe it was silly, but a part in the back of Historia’s mind refused to let Ymir die. She was gone, but was she? God, she felt stupid. How could she be a queen, a leader of the people, if she won’t even follow the evidence pointing towards the obvious? Ymir even told her so directly, she was going to die. Going to. Not has. She shouldn’t get her hopes up, they’ll only just let her down, but how could she be so sure that Ymir was gone? She only got a letter saying that she would, never any actual proof or confirmation. Shit, she’s doing it again.
Regret seeps into her pores like some bad disease, the shame eating her whole. Shame. Regret. The only two words she can hear or even slightly feel, tingling at the whole in her chest. She regrets being able to give Ymir anything, because she was the most deserving girl in the world.
She can only hope that a miracle does happen, but it seems as if their luck has run out.
Historia can't help but wonder, though, if she were still alive, would Ymir hold her tightly in her arms and dream about her? Would she keep loving her? Would Historia admit it to everyone, even herself, that she loved the tall freckled woman who’s got nothing? So many questions that will forever go unanswered.
But as she cradles the baby in her stomach and rocks back into her chair to suddenly come to a halt, she can’t help but smile, something she hasn’t done in years, and for once is able to feel something other than the underlying bitterness, sadness, regret and betrayal at the memory of her freckled lover, yes, lover. She feels grateful, because at the end of the day, she may not be able to live a life she’s proud of, but Ymir gave her a fighting chance, it’s Historia who hadn’t taken it.