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Splinters | Catherine/Ingrid Brandl Galatea

Authors for the 2024 @fe3hfemslashex were revealed today, so I'm going to post the fic I wrote!

Pairing: Catherine/Ingrid Brandl Galatea

Notes: I chose to write for the prompt: 'Ingrid discovers she is less into Dorothea's advances not because she dislikes women but because she only likes a certain TYPE of woman: i.e. older, more experienced, blonde.'

It was super fun, and I'm looking forward to participating in more events like this in the future :)

CW: Suggestive themes, age gap, inappropriate behavior in a cathedral.

WC: 2.2k

This work can also be found on my AO3! Please do not repost this work or use it as your own.

The training grounds at Garreg Mach were alive with the sound of a spar between Thunder Catherine and several knights. Seeing the legend herself in action had brought a small crowd eager to see her skills on display. It would only take someone one glance to see why the crowd was drawn to her - she was spectacular in battle.

It was almost impossible to look away.

Ingrid had, though reluctantly. She was on duty with Felix to repair weapons used at the training grounds. They’d worked together in a comfortable silence until Catherine had arrived and drawn a crowd. Who wouldn’t want to watch? Even when she was outside of battle, Ingrid could hardly look away from her. It

Felix’s acerbic voice cuts through Ingrid’s concentration, which had struggled since Catherine strutted into the training grounds.

“Idiots.”

Ingrid looks up to see what has Felix even pricklier than usual and sees Catherine tipping back a pail of water over herself, her training clothes becoming less opaque upon getting wet—

(and to ingrid, catherine is the perfect knight - strong and loyal and dedicated… everyone looks up to her. it’s only natural to feel this way, like she wants catherine to look at her during battle when she's high atop her pegasus.)

Ingrid couldn't look away this time.

(she’s definitely not thinking about how the sweat dripping down catherine’s neck might taste, or how catherine’s massive biceps and muscular thighs could crush her. she certainly wasn’t thinking about s catherine flipping her onto the ground and pressing her sharp teeth against ingrid’s pulse point—)

SNAP.

(she was very much thinking about all of it.)

Ingrid grips the training lance she was supposed to be repairing so hard that the wood splinters, the deafening sound drawing the attention of the crowd that had been ogling Catherine over to her. Heat rushes to her cheeks as she stands there, mouth agape.

Worse, now, is that Catherine is looking at her and smiling.

“That happens to me too,” Catherine calls out. “Just be careful next time!”

Ingrid flushes even harder. “I-I will,” she yells back, the loudness of her voice startling her. Her heartbeat is so loud in her ears that she can barely think straight. Ingrid breathes a sigh of relief when Catherine turns back to talk to one of the students crowding her.

Her staring is interrupted again by Felix.

Felix scoffs. “You too?”

Ingrid glares at him. “Catherine is an exemplary knight. You should be more respectful towards her. You could probably even learn a thing or two from her.”

“She doesn’t need my respect,” Felix rolls his eyes. “Focus on yourself. That staring you were doing reminds me all too much of someone else.”

“I-wha-... I wasn’t staring!” Ingrid stammers. She knew the flush on her cheeks wasn’t helping anything. Felix knew her well enough to know that she wasn’t simply admiring Catherine’s battle prowess, but admitting that to him… She would never. The feelings she felt were just getting conflated with admiration. Anyone would feel something stir when they saw a woman like Catherine.

That’s what Ingrid tells herself, anyway.

“Hmph. Whatever.” Felix is done with the conversation, and Ingrid is thankful for it. At least she could rely on that.

Felix glances at the broken training lance on the ground, and then to her hands. Ingrid had been too flustered to notice the splinters that had dug themselves into her skin, the pain suddenly hitting her. She sucks in her breath through her teeth and hisses.

“Get out of here and go see Manuela.” Felix pointedly looks away from Ingrid back to the weapon he was fixing. Ingrid spares one last glance towards the area where Catherine was training but only finds some students sparring.

The relief she feels quickly turns to disappointment. She wanted to appear as the knight she wished to become, but she had only made a fool of herself. Why couldn’t she control herself around Catherine?

Ingrid follows Felix’s suggestion to visit the infirmary, grimacing the whole way there. The pain wasn’t terrible as much as it was annoying. She shouldn’t have been handling the training glance without gloves in the first place, but the repair had been so minor she hadn’t even thought about it. Catherine’s appearance had made her even less aware of her surroundings.

If only she didn't act like a fool when Catherine was involved.

Ingrid is surprised to see Dorothea instead of Manuela when she arrives, entering to find the infirmary empty apart from the songstress.

“Ingrid!” Dorothea says, cheerful - her face morphs into concern when she glances at Ingrid’s hands. “What happened to you?”

Ingrid blushes. “I had an issue with one of the training lances.” Ingrid averts her eyes. “It snapped while I was holding it.” Sure, she had left out why exactly she snapped the lance, but no one needed to know that.

“Oh my,” Dorothea tries to hide her smile behind her hand, but her giggling gives her away. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t laugh while your injuries are still fresh.” Dorothea stands and walks over to Ingrid, gently taking her hands to inspect the damage. “It should be very easy to get you fixed up, dear.”

“It’s okay. It is funny that it’s always someone from Faerghus breaking something around here,” Ingrid replies.

“Mhm.” Dorothea hums. “It’s impressive how you handle having such strength. Much better than the prince, at least.” She eyes Ingrid’s muscular arms. “Watching you handle something delicate would be fun.”

Ingrid huffs at the sly look on Dorothea’s face. “Dorothea, don’t tease me like that.”

“You make it so easy, though, Ingrid.” Dorothea winks at her and Ingrid shakes her head, the side of her lip quirking up. “Now,” Dorothea holds up Ingrid’s hands. “Let’s get this taken care of.”

“You’re going to do it?” Ingrid asks.

“If you don’t mind. Manuela has been teaching me healing techniques since our days at the Mittelfrank. It’s always handy to know some healing magic.” Dorothea gently drops Ingrid’s hands and leads her to one of the beds. “I won’t be upset if you want to wait for Manuela. She just ran out for a quick errand.”

“I trust you,” Ingrid sits on the bed and extends her hands to Dorothea again. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Dorothea nods and slips her fingers through one of Ingrid’s outstretched hands. Ingrid raises her eyebrows, catching Dorothea’s gaze. “It’s faster if there’s contact.”

“Oh, I guess that makes sense.” Ingrid protests no further, relaxing into Dorothea’s touch as the healing magic begins to heal her wounds.

It only takes a few minutes for Ingrid’s hands to feel as good as new, the earlier wounds so minor that they’d been easily fixed by the healing magic.

Ingrid doesn’t think too hard about the fact that Dorothea is giving her the same look she was giving Catherine earlier.

When Ingrid leaves, she feels Dorothea’s gaze on her back.

…

“That part about contact wasn’t true.”

Dorothea jumps. “Manuela! How long have you been there?”

“Long enough,” Manuela replies. She steps into the infirmary from another entrance, having been perfectly hidden behind the curtain while she eavesdropped. A sliver of open space allowed her to see in and witness Ingrid’s complete obliviousness to Dorothea. Her lips twist into a pleased smirk. “Now tell me all about it.”

Weeks had gone by since the incident at the training grounds. That wasn’t what troubled Ingrid, though. What troubled her was the fact that she couldn’t stop thinking about Catherine in ways that she shouldn’t. Not only was Catherine older than her, but Ingrid was supposed to have no interest in romance as a knight.

It’s how she found herself in the cathedral late at night with nary a soul around beside her. There were guards posted outside, of course, but it was easy enough to sneak past them. Besides, they’d probably let it slide if a student was just sneaking in to pray. If they knew what she was praying about, though… Ingrid blushes.

Ingrid takes a seat on one of the pews far in the corner so that even if someone walked in they wouldn’t see her immediately. She glances around before she bows her head. Prayer was more powerful when spoken - and so she begins.

“Dear Seiros, I need your guidance. I’ve been…” Ingrid stops and breathes in deep. Admitting what she’d been thinking about aloud would make it real. If she would be able to focus again, though, it’d be worth it.

“Dear Seiros, I’ve been thinking impure thoughts.”

(i’ve been thinking about catherine. i’ve been thinking about her every moment. i think of that day on the training grounds where her shirt was almost transparent.)

“I know that they are unbefitting of a knight.”

(i think about catherine pressing my head between her legs. i imagine it. i’ve only read books about it. what would she taste like? how would it feel with her thighs around my head?)

“It’s keeping me from training properly.”

(if i trained with catherine i would only lose - i wouldn’t be able to think about anything but getting her hands on me, even if we’re sparring. even better if we’re sparring.)

“So please, Seiros, may your guidance help me overcome these impure thoughts about Catherine.”

Ingrid opens her eyes and looks up, staring at the ceiling of the cathedral. Her lower half pulses with the very feeling she’d been trying to fight, and she groans. If Seiros had heard her plea, she was certainly laughing in reply. Confessing had only made her think in detail about all the filthy thoughts of Catherine that had been running through her mind.

“Hey.”

Ingrid nearly jumps out of her seat, pressing a hand over her mouth to stifle the startled noise she makes. Standing in the aisle is Catherine, her grin wide.

“C-catherine! You startled me,” Ingrid presses a hand to her chest and feels how fast her heart is beating, the sudden intrusion sending a thrill through her spine that makes her squirm in her seat. She already felt uncomfortable enough revealing her thoughts to Seiros, and knowing the object of those lustful thoughts was here?

The thought that Catherine had heard her hits Ingrid a moment later, and her heart drops.

Ingrid could die right now. But maybe… Catherine hadn’t heard anything? If she acted like nothing was wrong, it’d be fine.

“Sorry,” the older woman chuckles and sits down next to Ingrid. The moonlight filtering in through the windows illuminates her bright blue eyes, and Ingrid can only stare in awe. “I like to come here late at night. No one is ever here,” Catherine grins, sharp, and Ingrid suddenly is very aware of the older woman’s dominating presence. Catherine’s smile was its own weapon, and it was very effective against Ingrid. “But I thought I heard my name this time.”

“Um.” Ingrid stares at her, wide-eyed, and searches for something to say. “I didn’t hear anything.”

Catherine raises an eyebrow. “Huh. That’s funny. Well, I guess there was someone else here confessing to having impure thoughts about me.” She smirks, and Ingrid turns sheet-white. “Kind of boring that they didn’t give any details, though. What kind of confession is it if you’re not spilling your guts out?”

Ingrid swallows when Catherine scoots closer, her body close enough to press into Ingrid’s side. The heat from her body feels searing and Ingrid both wants to run away from it and dive into it.

“I can help you confess properly.” Catherine’s gaze is sharp when she looks at Ingrid. “Do you want that?”

Ingrid isn’t quite sure what Catherine is getting at, but she nods anyway. Catherine’s expression loses its sharpness and her lip quirks up on one side.

“Go ahead. Confess again.”

Ingrid licks her lips, her lower body pulsing. Only one thing was clear to Ingrid, and it was that she would eagerly accept whatever Catherine intended to do to help her.

She closes her eyes and bows her head. “Dear Seiros, I need your guidance. I’ve been having impure thoughts.”

Ingrid jumps when she feels Catherine’s breath against her ear.

“Tell her what kind of impure thoughts.”

Ingrid swallows shakily. “U-um… I’ve been having impure thoughts… about Catherine. I think about her… touching me.”

“Touching you where?” Catherine breathes, and Ingrid shudders.

“I… just… anywhere. I want her to touch me all the time. I want… her.”

“And do you want her to do that now?” Catherine asks. She leans back and stretches her arms out across the pew, her gaze never leaving Ingrid’s face.

Ingrid opens her eyes and looks at Catherine to find the older woman gazing at her intently, her cheeks flushed.

“W-what?” Ingrid manages, barely maintaining eye contact.

“You won’t feel so guilty if you have nothing to be guilty about in the first place.” Catherine watches, pleased, as Ingrid processes her words. "Do you want her help?"

"Please," Ingrid replies, "I want her help."

"Good." Catherine stands and leans down to scoop Ingrid up, lifting her with ease. "You can finish your confession later. Maybe on your knees, like a true devotee."

Ingrid thinks she may suddenly become very devout.