Work Text:
Ingrid sobbed at his bedside, but Felix lay in peace. She squeezed his right hand where it lay across his stomach, her grip hard and bony from her years with the lance.
“Can you feel it?”
“Barely.”
“Oh, Felix your sword arm! This is all my fault!”
“I’ll miss it but I don’t regret it,” he said.
“How can you say that? You’ve been holding a blade your entire life, Felix.”
“My Ingrid,” Felix said, “I have known you since before my hand could curl around a sword.” And wrapping his left arm about her shoulders, he pulled her in.