of lúin.

               “  how  could  i  not?   i’ve  never  seen  you  wear  makeup!   and  it  looks  so  cute  too.  “

          and  she  never  thought  she  would —–   at  least  not  any  time  soon.   the  grin  on  her  face  makes  her  eyes  light  up,   and  she  can’t  help  but  think  of  a  handful  of  accessories  she’s  made  that  would  suit  the  colors  annette  had  chosen  for  their  classmate.   her  voice  comes  reassuringly,   “  it  suits  you  perfectly.   really,  i  think  you  should  do  this  more.  “

          ❝ i-is that so ? ❞

     hands fold above her skirt, fingers fiddling in response. humbled by the words of hilda and the other girls, ingrid found herself slowly growing more comfortable with the thought of indulging herself with such pursuits. dressing up, putting on makeup— was a little more pleasant than she anticipated.

me:

as briefly mentioned in my other headcanon post, during the tragedy of duscur, ingrid was travelling with her family.

after glenn’s death, as suggested by sylvain’s support with her as well as bernadetta’s, ingrid spent most of her time secluded in her room. the maids would leave food outside of her bedroom door, only ever stop by to leave some fresh clothes and of the like. she spoke to no one, she barely ate. the only thing ingrid had to remember glenn by was a sword he’d left behind.

her father grew concerned with her each day, understanding her grief -- holding off on finding her another husband until she was ready. 

it took a long time before ingrid was able to go outside again. most of it was thanks to the influence of her friends. after much reflection, she realized that she had people to look after, that there were people who still cared about her. this realization made her more determined to become a knight, to prevent such tragedies and to look after the people she held dear.

after months of staying in her room, she would return to training endlessly, picking up the sword  after glenn’s death. she knows that glenn would not want her to remain unmoving, to linger on his death. 

overture to an epicede: apprehension swells, tidal waves crashing within his chest. ❝& will you refuse the wishes of your king? your friend? will you not bend your iron code just this once?❞

do not let him wander the crows’ nest in search of your soul, do not let him suffer the fires alone / the suffocating depths of ocean trenches / the wallowing grief of a corpse—splayed atop wings of blood. Dimitri can barely move with his growing entourage of ghosts pressed to his back ( choking him, nails breaking skin ), & the thought of Ingrid joining his Wild Hunt ushers a sickness to the back of his throat. it’s with a plea that he begs her not to approach self-immolation, hands balled to fists to stay his anguished birdsong.

❝…before you lay down your life for me, think of your own safety. & no, this is not a request; I absolutely forbid you from offering your life in place of mine.❞

          ❝ your highness ... ❞

     he was a truly a kind ruler, a leader who refused to have his allies die in his stead. the tragedy claimed numerous lives, and her liege had witnessed it all— once again, she didn't think of his point of view.

          ❝ forgive me, ❞ a bow, eyes meeting the ground. ❝ i only feared for your safety. ❞

     without him, not only would their kingdom cease— but she would lose a dear companion. knighthood would often find one dedicating their self to their homeland, to blindly follow their king's orders and die on the battlefield; but dimitri was a different king, encouraging his knights to live. a king like that, a man of good heart— she wished to protect, and to stand beside.

     once again, he has opened her eyes.

[ jewelry  ]  your muse clasping a piece of jewelry for mine , such as a necklace , or earrings .

          ❝ you bought this for me ? ❞

     lashes bat at the sight of the necklace: a simple yet beautiful blue pendant, dangling from thin strings of gold. she did hear rumors of a passing caravan selling such trinkets, but she was not one for jewelry. though she had been offered such accessories, may they be gifts from her doting father or possible suitors — they would never adorn her visage.

     her friends would convince her otherwise, encouraging her to try them for herself ; to do it for her self. slowly, she’d been growing friendlier with the idea, but hilda had taken her by surprise. after much insistence, she finds the other clasping the ornament, fingers reaching behind her hair.

     a shy blush rises to her cheeks, embarrassed by her friend’s gesture. the kindness of her comrades knew no bounds.

          ❝ y-you really didn’t have to get me this , hilda. ❞ she utters, fingers tracing over the pendant before looking back  at her. ❝ but i suppose it’s … beautiful. are you sure you don’t want this for yourself ? ❞