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Ingrid sat on the edge of her bed, staring at her clasped hands resting in her lap. The Kingdom had lost, she knew that much. Dimitri had lost, was likely dead, and she was a prisoner of war.
And yet, here she was, unchained and unguarded in her old dorm room at Garreg Mach. If it wasn't for the crushing weight of recent defeat, the knight would be struck with nostalgia. At present, the two conflicting emotions were threatening to rip her in half, with everything around her being so much that she couldn't move out of fear that if she did it would all crumble to pieces.
She was a prisoner of the Empire, why wasn't she in chains, being kicked into the mud by Imperial soldiers, bearing objectifying insults? Or was that happening to the rest of her unit and she was getting special treatment? The Empire was supposed to be a ruthless war machine that crushed everything in its path. She willingly stood in the way, knowing what that meant, and somehow she was now here, ego and body bruised, but otherwise in one piece and relatively unscathed. Nothing made sense anymore.
A soft knock stirred Ingrid from her thoughts and she lifted her head to see who had announced themselves. Dorothea Arnault stood in her doorway, face hard as stone and posture poised.
Never mind, Ingrid thought, the Empire clearly enjoyed torturing their captors.
"Ingrid. Can I come in?" Her voice was like a blanket left outside overnight. Soft, but cold.
The pegasus knight stared for a moment, wondering briefly if she could refuse, and then immediately deciding that wasn't an option. She nodded and the former songstress stepped inside, closing the door behind her. Ingrid gulped.
There was a pause as Dorothea took a deep breath and Ingrid thought the anxiety would actually kill her.
"Do you know where Petra is?" Dorothea asked finally.
The question floored Ingrid and for a few seconds she forgot how to speak. The singer leaned in and Ingrid flinched away.
"Where is Petra, Ingrid?" Her voice betrayed no weakness, her eyes sharper than any lance.
"Um... in Fhirdiad, under the palace I think."
"How are they treating her?"
"I..." Dorothea instantly picked up on the hesitation and the knight resisted the urge to hunch in on herself.
"She's a prisoner of war."
"So are you."
Ingrid winced knowing Dorothea was correct. It was a fact the Princess of Brigid shared the distinction of being taken captive during battle with the pegasus knight. And yet Ingrid had a sinking suspicion her current conditions were substantially better than the princess's.
Ingrid looked down at her hands in her lap, unable to find words that would calm the storm in front of her. Dorothea took another deep breath.
"I'm not mad at you, Ingrid." The sentiment made Ingrid wince. The former diva had so many reasons to be angry with her. A memory played before her of a younger and hopeful-looking Dorothea asking Ingrid to go to the ball with her. Ingrid remembered how that hope had slid from her face like snow falling off a tree branch when Ingrid had given her answer. She remembered how the shame and guilt had eaten away at her in the following days after she realized what Dorothea was actually asking her.
They had continued on awkwardly as acquaintances and classmates. When the war started, they became enemies and for a while Ingrid thought that it was better that way. Now, sitting on the same bed she had slept in six years ago, a whole world ago, it felt like she was living in both worlds at once, and they were fighting tooth and nail within her for control.
"I'm mad at this stupid world that we live in," Dorothea continued, gaze dropping to the floor. "I'm mad that all of our classmates were forced to choose sides in a war none of us wanted. I'm angry that no matter how much the world changes for the better, there will always be people who wish for war. And I'm absolutely furious that the love of my life is trapped in a dungeon underneath the castle we're about to throw every soldier in our fucking army at."
"If you hate this war so much, then why did you side with the woman that started it?" Ingrid retorted without thinking. It came so automatically because it was what she would say every time she imagined a conversation like this, except usually, Ingrid was playing the role of captor. Dorothea snapped her head back to look at her with such ferocity that Ingrid feared for her life.
"If anyone else was emperor, you would be dead right now!! You know that right? If anyone else was emperor, all of our friends would be dead! With the size of our army and the resources we have, Fodlan should be burning by now. For the Goddess' sake, Ingrid, we haven't even used Crest stones."
Ingrid's eyes widened. It had been so long ago, but of course she remembered Edelgard stealing Crest stones from the holy Tomb at Garreg Mach. Had she really not used any of them? Dorothea continued, "Does the evidence really suggest our armies are led by a bloodthirsty tyrant?"
Ingrid was absolutely stunned. "How can that be true?" she murmured.
"Why would I lie to you now? We've already won the war," she said matter-of-factly, and she was right. Ingrid's brain scrambled for a counterargument.
"That still doesn't justify this war, though," she argued weakly.
Dorothea replied immediately, "Edie wasn't willing to wait however many decades of politicians bickering with each other for any progress to be made, and I wasn’t either. Just because we weren't at war doesn't mean Fodlan wasn't a cruel place. I know because I had firsthand experience even after I joined the opera. And you should know too, being Dimitri, Sylvain and Felix's friend."
Dorothea twisted the knife in Ingrid’s gut further.
"Edie knows how cruel the world is better than any of us, than anyone in Fodlan. She weighed the lives that would be lost if she went in the political direction against this war, and she chose the lesser evil. Even then, she has gone out of her way to limit collateral damage and casualties on both sides whenever she could. Surely, you noticed at some point in the last six years."
In hindsight, Ingrid had noticed. She wondered if anyone else had. Dorothea took a deep breath for the third time during this conversation, forcing the volume of her voice down. Ingrid had never been as scared of anyone in her whole life as much as she was of Dorothea right now.
"Here's what's going to happen, Ingrid," Dorothea began slowly, "Edie and Byleth are going to take Fhirdiad. As soon as Rhea surrenders, you're going to take me to Petra, and we're going to let all the POWs go. Am I understood?"
Ingrid could only nod, words stuck around the lump in her throat.
"Good," Dorothea exhaled. Her body seemed to deflate and she looked quite tired. She stood there in silence for a few long seconds and Ingrid desperately wanted her to leave, but had no energy to move or speak. "Felix and Sylvain are here." Ingrid's head shot up at her (former?) friends' names. Dorothea was looking at her sadly, and it looked like she tried to force a smile but gave up. "They would probably like to see you." With that, Dorothea left her alone.
_____
Felix was at the training grounds because of course he would be there. Ingrid had almost stayed in her room out of shame, but the ache of possibly seeing another familiar face had driven her here. He had not noticed her yet, running through the same drills she had seen him do for what seemed like her entire life. He looked broader, more muscular, though it was hard to tell through his baggy training clothes. Instead of a bunch, his blue hair was tied in a short ponytail at the top of his head.
Ingrid was too terrified to call out to him, so instead she just walked over silently. As she got closer, he eventually noticed her, brows arched as his eyes met hers. "Ingrid..." he said so softly she almost didn't catch it. Ingrid stopped in her tracks. Felix took a step towards her then stopped about ten feet away. Unbearably close, and yet still a mile away.
"How long have you--"
"I'm sorry," Ingrid cut him off, a little too loudly. She squeezed her eyes shut, unable to bear looking at his face.
"Sorry for what?" he asked, without the sharpness Ingrid was so used to.
She thought for a moment. It felt like there were so many things she should apologize for, but only one came to the front of her mind.
"I'm sorry we were separated. I've come to realize some forms of loyalty are more important than others, and I apologize for putting you and Sylvain in this position." The words didn't really sound like they were coming from her mouth with how much she forced her voice to remain steady. There was a beat of silence before she heard footsteps and she tensed, refusing to move or open her eyes.
A hand rested on her shoulder and her eyes opened to stare into the pale brown ones of Felix Hugo Fraldarius, staring back at her with a look of soft intensity that felt so foreign and so familiar at the same time. She felt a tear fall from each eye.
"Ingrid, that wasn't your fault. Things like that happen in war. What matters is that you're here now, and that we're all alive."
Felix's words didn't sound right in Ingrid's ears, but any words she would've said came out as garbled sobs. She threw her arms around his neck and cried softly into the shoulder of one of her oldest friends. He hugged her back, squeezing gently, and said nothing.
They stayed like that for a couple minutes before finding Sylvain in the common room, and Ingrid cried and hugged him too. He patted her on the back and told a stupid joke, and she laughed through tears. When she pulled away, she found that he was crying too.
They stayed in the common room for hours, talking first about how each of them were holding up, and then about the rest of the Blue Lions, and then about nothing. A few people poked their heads into the room, sensed the intimate energy of the three friends, and left. Rafael, bless his heart, offered to bring them each a plate of food at dinner time, and didn't even eat any of it during the long walk from the dining hall to the common room.
After eating, they all went to watch the sunset from the bridge. Ingrid stood in between her two old friends, holding Felix's right hand with her left and resting her head on Sylvain's shoulder. They stood in silence as the sky broke into oranges and purples and eventually faded into a dark indigo. Felix suggested they move indoors as the air grew chillier, though Ingrid couldn't really feel it. In the back of her mind, Ingrid thought about asking them the question that had been burning away at her for six years--Why did you side with the empire?--but that could wait. Right now, she was happy just to be with them again.
With a slight blush on her face, she asked them to sleep with her tonight, simply because she felt like if they left her line of sight, she would never see them again. They both agreed immediately without a single tease, not even from Sylvain.
They laid out two bedrolls on the hard wood floor and Ingrid wished for a bigger bed so they could all be comfortable. Still, she never heard a complaint from Felix or Sylvain.
After they had been lying down for a while, not quite wanting to fall asleep yet, Sylvain suddenly said, "Dimitri's alive, Ingrid."
Felix raised himself on an elbow. "Sylvain--"
"She's not gonna go running back to Rhea now, Felix. And she deserves to know anyway."
Ingrid sat up to look at Sylvain. "Where is he?"
"We don't know," he said, somewhat apologetically.
"How?"
"Edelgard and the professor faked his death so he could escape," Felix explained. "I'm not sure they even know where he is. Most of the army thinks he's dead too."
"Why?" Ingrid continued to go down the list of essential questions.
"I don't know," Sylvain sighed, "maybe he's the Emperor's long-lost brother or lover or something."
"Seriously?" Felix huffed.
"I'm just saying it's possible!"
"I'm saying you're an idiot."
The familiar banter made Ingrid giggle warmly and her heart ache, and she laid back down. "So he's alive," she said.
After a moment, Sylvain said, "Yeah, he is."
She sighed and let the emotional weight of the day wash over her in a wave of exhaustion. "That's good," she breathed.
"Yeah, it is," Felix murmured.
The four of them were all still alive. Despite the hell the past 6 years had been, she still had all of her oldest and closest friends with her. It didn't feel possible, but right now Ingrid was too tired to care. The warmth of the extra bodies in her room made her feel cozy and comfortable, and she slipped into a peaceful sleep dreaming of a happy future.