#and hare wrote the fic of emmet's pov

[fraycreations]

Once Reshiram ceased its fiery breath, it moved away to give Ingo space, lying down absurdly like a large cat. No one breathed nor moved. No one except for Ingo, who moved with a speed he did not know he was capable of to catch his brother when he crumpled, no longer supported by ice. Emmet was limp, muscles finally free of the deadlock the deep freeze had put them in, and he was cold. So unbelievably, unsurprisingly cold. As Ingo gripped his hand, the skin felt thin, paperlike, reacting to his touch in ways that skin shouldn’t. It was… So wrong. There was a fear, as bone-deep as the cold, gripping Ingo as he reached for Emmet’s wrist. The sharpness of the chill superseded any pulse that he may have found there, and he choked on a sob. What good would anything do, now, at this point? Even so, despite the cold, despite the Dragon with its fire at his back, watching him silently, Ingo removed the coat that he had so reverently clung to all this time and bundled it around his brother. A warming blanket or a funeral shroud, he did not know. But he could not do nothing. And so Ingo held Emmet close, a hand on the side of his face, fingers buried in hair that was still crackly and brittle with frost. Leaning forward, he pressed his forehead to Emmet’s, whole body trembling with the strength of his despair. There was only the two of them in the world, at that moment. One was clinging to the other, speaking in pleas and praying for absolution. The other said nothing at all. – @ingo-ingoing-ingone

and, what of Emmet?