Dampened air creaked through the upper halls of Garreg Mach Monastery, much like the proverbial ghosts which bedevilled their wayward students. Bernadetta von Varley was afraid of ghosts, but there was one foul creature that struck an insurmountable fear in her: people. In Bernie's eyes, communing with the dead would be far simpler than conversing with the living. At the very least, ghosts don't care if you shut yourself away.
Bernadetta's reclusive nature dictated every facet of her life, a trait that controlled her far more than she controlled herself. Never caught outside of her room in daylight, she would exclusively tread the monastery grounds after hours when all had quieted and retired to their quarters. Though absent in most scenarios, Bernadetta didn't necessarily neglect her studies. The recluse often sealed herself away in her dorm, scanning her own sloppily scrawled notes for the key points from the day's lecture. Nobody could understand what her writing said, but it wasn't for them; it was for Bernie and Bernie alone.
Sneaking books from the library was a lot like sneaking sweets from the dining hall, do it late enough and nobody is there to stop you. Bernadetta took full advantage of the lonely corridors and stagnant air that was exhaled from the ancient building's lungs come the bustle of morning. Standing on the apex of her toes, the petite shut-in would struggle to nudge a hefty scarlet tome from what seemed like a mountainous shelf.
"Come on, Bernie. Just a little… bit… closer… aaand-" she whispered, the words hardly departing through her delicate lips. Despite her best efforts, the stretch was a failure. Unable to reach the book she sought, she sighed and recouped. Bending her neck and rotating her shoulder, Bernadetta tried to loosen herself for a second reach. As her arm ascended, it became clear to her that she wouldn't find success this time around.
"Do you need some help?"
With a shriek befitting a wounded fox, Bernadetta mistakenly slammed her forehead into the shelves in front of her. As the bookshelf wobbled, so too did Bernie as she spun to meet the terrifying living, breathing human before her: her house leader, Edelgard.
"Oh," Edelgard stated, a droplet of worry hidden amongst the sea of formality with which she spoke. "My apologies, I didn't mean to frighten you. I simply saw you struggling to reach and decided I would lend a hand."
Bernadetta's mind fluttered as she tried to grasp at the vocal swarm of butterflies. "A-am I in your way? Oh no, I-I'm so sorry Your Highness, p-please don't condemn me! Though I'd understand if you did, I'm-"
"Bernadetta, please," Edelgard interrupted, waving her hand as though to scatter Bernie's mind further and dilute her verbal stumble. "I only wish to help. Here." The soon-to-be Emperor had been exposed to Bernadetta's skittish nature long enough to understand the patience required to navigate a conversation with the flighty girl.
Bernie's back was pressed against the bookshelf, her hands flat against the spines of dusty, unread tomes as though wishing to become one with their comforting text. Unable to speak through her mental cell, Bernadetta silently gasped as Edelgard approached. She wanted to beg for forgiveness, to plead and grovel at Her Highness's feet, but perhaps the truest punishment was served immediately. With Bernie unwilling (or unable) to move, Edelgard ignored her presence all together, reaching up with marginally more success. As she did so, the house leader's body was dangerously close to Bernadetta's heart, which thumped like a herd of wild, untamed boars.
O-oh this is torture! S-she's so close to me she's practically pinning me here! I could run! Yeah! Push her aside and hide away in some cave or sewer or-
Before Bernadetta could begin reviewing her ludicrous overreaction further, Edelgard took a step backwards, book in extended hand. "Here, this is what you were reaching for, yes?"
"Y-yes," Bernie stuttered.
"Pity," Edelgard apprehensively admitted. "This is the very same book I came here to find, but I suppose you are more deserving, as you were here long before I."
Bernadetta wasn't much shorter than the emperor-to-be, but with her back firmly to the wall and her knees trembling, she felt as though Edelgard towered overhead. Her eyes shot wide open at her house leader's words. "O-oh, that's okay! You can take it! I'll just find something else!"
Relinquishing the tome she sought was more of a play of desperation than altruism. Bernadetta admired Edelgard through and through. Edelgard was fearless in Bernie's eyes, a trait all but fictitious to the recluse. Her initial impression of Edelgard was sheer terror, but she was beyond admirable. Recently, however, that admiration born in terror had taken a turn. There was no longer any terror, only a peculiar warmth that bundled in her chest whenever the house leader acknowledged her. Right now, that bundle was scorching.
"Nonsense," Edelgard assured, retracting her hand. "If you'd prefer, perhaps we should simply read it together."
T-together..? What kind of mind games is she playing!? What does 'together' mean!?
Bernadetta gulped, adding more weight to her load-bearing knees. "U-um, I don't know w-what you mean by that..."
"Bernadetta, it's quite simple," the house leader suggested. "We simply sit in close proximity to one another and collaborate when we wish to continue." Edelgard's countenance soured, not in distaste, but in resignation. Observing the aberrant student in this state would likely cause the situation to drag on through the night until Bernadetta darted away in tears, (for no reason).
C-CLOSE PROXIMITYYYYY!? GA-AHHH!
Bernie's mouth hung open, but atypically, her pale face wasn't depraved of color. In fact, her vibrant cheeks were flush like the dew of a rose petal while her unblinking eyes matured in disbelief. Before her house leader could retreat or change her mind, Bernadetta forced her reclusive nature down like a foul tasting meal. Before summoning the courage to move or speak, Edelgard prompted Bernie to act not unlike shouting orders in battle.
"Look," Edelgard began. "I'll leave you alone for the time being. Farewell, Bernadetta."
"W-wait, Lady Edelgard!" Bernie shouted, breaking through the layer of mental ice that had frozen her in place. "I, um, w-wouldn't mind sharing…" Earlier that very year, their professor had placed an onerous burden on Bernie's shoulders. 'You have to come out of your room eventually,' she had said through the thick padded doors of the recluse's den. Here, Bernadetta realized what she had meant. Bernadetta carried her room with her wherever she went, isolating even when forced to coexist with her peers. Here was an opportunity before her, a chance to open her doors and remove herself, a chance to come out of her room.
"Are you certain?" the Adrestian heir assured. "And once again, just 'Edelgard' is fine. No need for such formalities among friends, correct? Once upon a time I had even accepted 'El' as a fitting name for those closest to me; though that was years prior."
"El…" Bernie hushedly repeated, not daring to raise her voice to the degree of misconception. "Y-yes I'm sure! The library is empty anyways, we can share. A-at least until someone else shows up."
Stroking her chin in a contemplative motion stolen from Hubert, Edelgard pondered her dear friend's request. "Would you not prefer we return to the privacy of your room? I imagine it would provide a comfort lost to this public space."
If the heat in Bernie's chest was previously scorching, it was blazing through her into her cheeks, causing her head to feel weightless on her shoulders. "U-um, I," she struggled. "Y-yes, I guess so… O-only if you want!"
"I have no qualms with the notion," Edelgard affirmed. The emperor-to-be was cunning, if not borderline deceitful. With remarkable effort, she masked her emotions behind a calculated demeanor. That applied here to a stunning degree, obscuring the blush beneath her eyes by an impressive margin. Bernadetta would hardly notice. Hardly. "Shall we be off then?"
"Mhmm!" Bernie adamantly replied.
Not a whisper was shared between the students as their footsteps echoed throughout Garreg Mach's staircases. Emerging from the arterial hall, a wintry gust lifted the girls' hair. Bernadetta shivered, gasping at the breeze and instinctively holding her skirt in place. Edelgard remained stoic, unafraid of the weather and startled more on Bernie's behalf. Bernie wished she had brought her coat, and Edelgard wished she had brought her own; if only for the purpose of giving it to her dear friend.
Under the crescent moon's watchful beams, Bernadetta had only just begun to ponder why her house leader was awake at such absurd hours. Such behavior was typical of the recluse, but the responsibilities Edelgard held would surely benefit from a night of rest. She caught herself stealing sideways glances at the princess, her head as equally full of questions as her heart. If Edelgard felt a similar way, it was excessively difficult to discern by her sober countenance and upturned eyes. Still, when Bernie wasn't gawking, the princess found time to peer at her companion in reflections and slowed pace.
As Bernadetta crept open the heavy oak doors of her dorm, she was dreadfully reminded of the state of her quarters. She panicked momentarily, halting the door's path to shiver under the weight of her fears.
Flaring with the dramatism of a stage diva, Bernie squealed, "S-sorry it's so messy, Your Highness! S-such mess is b-beneath you! If you wish to turn back in dismay I shan't stop you!"
"Bernadetta," Edelgard began. Curiously, the stern whip of her speech was gone. When she spoke her friend's name, it was as though it passed through a honeyed film. Such a change was enough to lessen the strife in Bernie's poor little heart. "I'm no stranger to clutter. Even my quarters are less than the ideal standard of cleanliness."
Forgetting her troubled misstep, Bernadetta led the princess inside, her teeth chattering as she wrapped her hands in a wool blanket smuggled from House Varley. "Really? I figured Hubert wouldn't let your room get so messy."
Remarkably, this drew a chuckle from Edelgard, her shoulders relaxing as she took a seat at the edge of Bernadetta's sunken, overused bed. "I'd sooner clean it myself." The book so tightly clenched in the princess's arms laid flat on her friend's sheets as the double doors were locked behind her.
Bernie giggled in tandem, feeling at ease with Edelgard in such casual spirits. "I think I'd drop dead if I saw Hubert in my room." She awkwardly sat at a considerable distance away, expecting to sour the attitude if she came any closer.
Again, Edelgard's unlively face watered a smile as Bernadetta laughed along. "Yes, Hubert does possess an air that can retain a quite… ghastly appearance." Through the pair's reserved laughter, the mood was lightened and the weight of the situation was more bearable to Bernie. The princess of Adrestia was voluntarily in her room, giggling and chatting as though she were a friend long remembered. Bernadetta's heart skipped a beat every time the pair's eyes met, and the natural chorus of her anxiety was largely lost.
"Shall we begin reading?" Edelgard offered. With a few stumbles and lengthy repositioning, the girls eventually settled on the most comfortable position in which to share a book. Lying flat on their stomachs, the two were cramped side by side, packed like baled hay. Each took half of the cover and spread the pages. This inefficient method left two of their arms overlapping between their fidgety bodies. Outside, they were easily separable- one a fussy young girl and the other the heir to the Adrestian throne. But here, in Bernadetta's bed, the lines between them were blurred and a different tale was written: one of blundering young adults, amateurs of their own hearts.
Bernadetta was inhumanely still, one would assume she had become stone upon first glance. Despite the frigid midnight air that hung about, a single bead of sweat flowed along the crease of her eyebrows. How could she focus on her studies like this? Not a word was read, they became a nuisance to discern among the shared heat from Edelgard's body.
Every now and then, the princess would cordially ask, "Ready?" in anticipation of turning the page.
It didn't matter that she wasn't, Bernie strictly replied a jumbled, "mhmm" to each question. Edelgard, as it seemed, read remarkably fast.
Minutes ticked by that felt like hours. Unbeknownst to Bernadetta, the constricting blaze in her chest was shared, blistering the pair's shared body heat. Edelgard made not a sound upon sensing Bernie's strife- she felt it too. This transfiction on their physical touch halted all of Bernadetta's awareness. Before long, she was yanked back to reality by the airy tune of her reading partner's voice.
"You haven't been reading along, have you?"
"W-wh-what!?" Bernie cried out, her whole body convulsing to the accusation. "O-of course I have!"
"I've remained on this page for several minutes. I've read it over three times. What ails you, Bernadetta?" Edelgard allowed the pages to sag a bit, tilting her gaze ever slightly in her friend's direction. With her heart aflutter at the pale candlelit bliss in the princess's eyes, Bernadetta failed to think of an excuse.
"I guess I was distracted…" she confessed. Burying her face in the sheets like an ostrich, Bernie effectively masked her blush akin to Edelgard's deceptive stoicism.
"Distracted by what?" Edelgard asked. Whether the flirtatious metronome of her hushed voice was intentional or not didn't matter, as it served only to drive Bernie's face further into her sheathed cower.
The heavy-handed pitter-patter of her virgin heart danced to a ferocious beat, one that was foreign and frightening in a way. Bernadetta grew to fear the princess all over again, but this time it wasn't her might or her stern brow that petrified the recluse- it was love. She loved her. What began as admiration for someone of an accomplished life turned to admiration for admiration's sake. Bernadetta hadn't skipped a lecture since her inner compass began to point towards Edelgard. When they had met, Bernadetta wished to observe the princess from as far away as possible. Now, she yearned to be closer and closer.
Edelgard was set on a predisposed path. Her future had been laid out before her since before her birth, the seeds of dissent sown in her very blood. Her life expectancy was reduced, and her consideration for things as trivial as love were never trudged up. Emperor Edelgard von Hresvelg was a well-oiled machine, a tool needed to unshackle the world from the tyranny of Seiros. As the Flame Emperor blazed a trail towards tomorrow, she was adjourned by one small, insignificant, purple-haired bump in the road. Edelgard's mask shattered for Bernadetta von Varley, and the machine of conquest was halted to revel in her humanity, her emotions, her love.
One finger was the twitch of a hand. Two fingers was a mistake. Three was a cramped muscle. Four were suspicious, and five were intentional. As Edelgard von Hresvelg's humanity overcame her, so too did her hand cup atop her bashful friend's. Bernadetta's eyelashes brushed her sheets like a rushed oil canvas. Disbelief was coveted by both, Bernie withholding a disastrous scream and Edelgard forgetting to breathe. All from the gentle caress of each other's hand.
Nothing was said. What could be? Unlike in battle or in the grand scheme of things, neither knew what they were doing. They weren't fearsome warriors or government officials. They weren't students of a higher cause or nobility in their homeland. They were two eighteen year-old girls with feelings they could hardly comprehend.
Time ticked by, more minutes masquerading as hours. Edelgard began to worry that her friend had suffocated due to her statue-like disposition. As the princess began to regret her boldness, she was equally startled by the reciprocated caress of Bernadetta's thumb soothingly stroking her clasped hand.
"C-c," Edelgard halted. If she were to speak with a stutter, let it be unheard. "Come up for air before you drown in your own sheets," she asked of her friend. Truthfully, it was a command that lacked Edelgard's assertive tongue. In it's stead existed a soothing tune plucked from the heartstrings of a nervous young girl.
Words escaped Bernadetta's lips, muffled by the bedding that encompassed her. "A-are you gonna be mad at me?"
"Hmph," Edelgard huffed. Shifting herself, she rose to a cross-legged sit next to her beloved. She never let go of Bernadetta's hand, squeezing it gently to the cadence of her words. "No. Never. I'd like to-..." she pondered, selecting her next words with a precise hum. "I want to see you."
Bernadetta may have found solace in being told what to do. Unfamiliar situations terrified her, and being verbally guided presented a welcomed, comforting pace. Sitting upright, Bernie shifted as well, resting her back against the wall. Her legs were loosely strewn across her bed, one on each side of Edelgard's straightened posture. With one hand tucked out of sight, Bernadetta made certain to tighten her grip on the princess's. Roles now reversed, Edelgard comfortingly ran her thumb along the trembling hand of her friend.
Rejecting the pull to her eyes, Bernie's flush cheeks hung low and out of sight. Edelgard tilted her head, unsure of the nature of Bernadetta's scarlet glow. "Bernadetta," she began.
"GAH, W-WHAT?" the recluse snapped, a dreadful fear in her eyes for the moment before they locked with Edelgard's. Concern painted across the princess's face as she jolted a considerable bit at the outburst. Taking notice, Bernadetta fittingly panicked. "I-I'm so sorry! P-please don't hit meee!"
Retreating from her detached propensity, Edelgard aligned her face with Bernie's, whose eyes welled with tears that couldn't possibly be shed in such beauty. Again she squeezed her hand. "Bernadetta, I wouldn't dream of hitting you. You needn't be so afraid of me."
"I-" she stuttered. Bernie wanted to believe it, but in a moment dressed as fantasy, how could she believe anything was real? "Dream… am I… I-Is that what's happening right now? T-this isn't real, is it? I'm asleep, aren't I?! This is all a d-"
A delicate, minimized laugh from the emperor-to-be was all that was required to covertly quiet Bernadetta's rampaging mind. Just one small exhale, a chuckle and nothing more, and her heart was still. "If this is a dream," Edelgard began, notably shrinking her gaze in an uncharacteristic sign of butterflies. "-then what a cruel dream it would be."
"B-because you don't," Bernie stammered, unable to force the words from her throat. "B-because you don't feel this way a-about… m-me?"
"Precisely the opposite," the princess smugly replied, her irradiant stare returning to lovingly impose Bernadetta's rampant heart. "Were this a dream, I would simply wish to never awake."
"B-because it's so horrifying that you'd rather die, i-is that it?"
"No," Edelgard exhaled through a sincere grin. "Because I wish to live in this moment for as long as you'd allow me."
With a long hesitated gulp, Bernadetta voiced her concerns once more as they evolved. "Is this a joke… Did somebody put you up to this?"
"Bernadetta, no!" Edelgard frustratingly assured. Carrying her words, her free hand found purpose rising to the squirming girl's cheek. Paving over her anxieties, Bernadetta's rosy cheek rested in Edelgard's clammy, ungloved hand. "Honestly. What is so inconceivable about me having become enamored with you?" The words tasted like iron in her mouth, like a dagger held to her tongue.
"B-because you're YOU! A-and because I'm ME!" Bernadetta shrieked. Though her fantasies had seemingly manifested before her, the thought of a genuine requited love felt unfathomable, unattainable. Edelgard's hand dropped from Bernie's cheek.
"I see," Edelgard flatly replied. Unfortunately, it was an outcome she had feared. "Then it is my status that detours you. Allow me to ask this of you- if I were a commoner, would this moment feel any more real?" Bernadetta shook her head in disagreement. "If I were a noble of similar status to you, would this be more realistic?" Again, Bernadetta shook her head. "Then what is it about me that is so preposterous to you?"
"I…" Bernadetta attempted to muster her feelings. Shrouded in her own self doubt, she tangled her words and was refused by her own conflict. "I just can't believe s-someone like you could care about someone like me… I know I can be… a lot. I don't mean to be, but I feel like I'm such a burden on everyone. It's not that you're a princess or house leader or anything like that, it's that you're Edelgard and I'm just Bernie."
"Just Bernie, hm?" Edelgard pondered. She had never referred to her friend by the name. It somehow felt more intimate, like a privilege afforded to her. "I see no issues with being 'just Bernie'. I understand your struggle outside, but inside your room, you feel empowered, correct?"
"Empowered?"
"Comfortable, at ease, however best describes it," Edelgard continued. Throughout the exchange, their interlocked hands never broke free of one another, and it perhaps lessened the strain on both of their hearts. "What I'm trying to arrive at is that behind these doors, you feel like yourself."
Bernadetta whimpered, "W-when I'm in my room, I don't have to worry about what people think of me or what a disappointment I am."
Edelgard fondly broke into a grin, reminiscing about an encounter long forgotten to the recluse. The princess's heartfelt voice returned to grace Bernadetta's forlorn mind. "What is it you call yourself? Bernie-Bear?"
"H-hey," Bernie huffed, tilting her face in embarrassment. Hearing the Adrestian Princess refer to her by her silly nickname felt so informal, something that couldn't fit within the abstract of a dream.
"I mean it in sincerity," Edelgard assured. "In truth, I'm rather jealous. I cannot afford to be myself often. I'm not quite so detached as I may appear." Bernie perked up, unsure if she should believe it. "If you feel as though we cannot ever be equals, I will understand. However, perhaps there is something to be said about the confidence that privacy instills in you."
Like a curious young fawn, Bernadetta's head listed with a profound innocence. "What do you mean?"
"Well," Edelgard began. The princess had always painted such vivid imagery with her words. Though often haughty and complex, her speech was plain. "When you're alone, you're unapologetically yourself. You may view yourself as 'Just Bernie' out there, but in here, you're Bernie-Bear, and you're content with that."
"I guess so," Bernie relinquished. Once again, their eyes were as locked as their hands.
"Well then," Edelgard coily remarked. "If I'm Edelgard out there, someone who 'Just Bernie' feels beneath, then perhaps I should stand on equal footing." Again, Edelgard's delicate hand swept the corner of Bernadetta's lips, sending a shrill lurch down her spine. "We aren't out in the world, we're in your room, where 'Just Bernie' becomes Bernie-Bear, and Edelgard becomes-"
"El."
Silence and a transference of tears caked the room in an eerie light. El's vulnerable lips quivered at the name spoken in earnest by the girl held so dearly in her affections. Nothing moved, and neither seemed to breathe before the corners of the princess's eyes leaked an unsightly tear.
"N-no, d-don't cry! I'm sorry!" Bernadetta haplessly apologized, leaning forward to wipe away the tears from her house leader's cheeks. Edelgard's hand migrated from Bernie's cheek to the back of her head, resting in a grip of tangled lavender hair. "I-I didn't mean to upset you, I shouldn't have-"
Silence. Words were cut away, those which expressed a thought never spoken. Cutting away the fat and trimming the girls' love down to the apex of their afforded trust, El's lips met with Bernie-Bear's. In a shocked fit of disbelief, Bernadetta's eyes refused to close, her lips being guided along to the eager passion of Edelgard's. As her mind began to process the sight of the vulnerable Adrestian Princess so irresistibly close to her, Bernie's eyes softly shut, and her hand wavered loosely along El's cheek.
The force of her house leader's hand resting on the back of Bernadetta's head was the perfect merging of kindly guidance and affection-starved desire. It was exactly the stance one would expect of Edelgard, but the love expressed in their kiss was foreign to the seldom unmasked Flame Emperor. Her love was all El.
Edelgard, unable to balance in her forward lean, broke free of their hand-hold to steady herself against the bed. Missing her mark, El firmly planted her hand in loose soil, slipping on the upturned book's crisp yellow pages.
RIPPP
The princess slipped, a page torn from the book. The pair were pulled from their kiss and El's face plummeted into Bernadetta's welcoming lap. Both had yet to process their affections, let alone the sudden blunder. Awash in a heartfelt stupor, Edelgard and Bernadetta froze in a cold sweat.
It was Bernadetta who broke that silence, chuckling absent-mindedly. El followed suit and before long, both girls were adrift in a sea of sweet laughter. Edelgard pivoted onto her back, the rear knots of her hair pressed firmly against Bernie's thighs. The two could hardly surmise where they had just begun to tread, and likewise, could not muster the courage to meet each other's eyes without a tizzy of laughter.
"Y-ya know," Bernie said, her hands cradling Edelgard's head, gathering her loose hairs and filing them neatly behind her ear. "I think I might like El better than Lady Edelgard."
"Ha!" El sarcastically retorted. "Perhaps I'm more fond of my Bernie-Bear."
Again, Bernadetta's eyes were cemented open, her mouth hung low as if punched in the gut. "Y-yours..?"
El craned her neck sideways, masking her face between Bernie's lap and her sinuous frosted hair. "Should you wish to be." Her cheeks radiated a sun-baked complexion.
Bernadetta did not immediately offer a reply. One was not needed. In lieu of her words, she carefully stroked along the princess's temples, draping her fingers to part the sea of white hair. Together, they sat in a melodious silence, the gentle scrape of Bernie's fingernails were the only sound perceivable to Edelgard.
"Edelgard?" Bernadetta unassumingly asked.
"Yes?" she replied.
"What do you think will happen now?" Bernie inquired, a slight quake to her words. Edelgard returned her head to an upright position, gazing upwards at the worrywort.
"Whatever could you mean?"
Bernadetta trembled as she delivered her troubled thoughts. "W-well it's like you said… I'm only me when I'm behind closed doors. A-and outside, you're Lady Edelgard and I'm just Bernie. What happens when we go back outside?"
Edelgard was rarely stunned, but the coherence of Bernadetta's fluttering voice gave way to a genuine concern. She had no idea. The princess who prepared for everything did not have a plan. "We'll simply have to work towards opening those doors together." Though vague and poetic, it quenched the anxious thirst in Bernadetta's heart.
And open the doors they did.
Years passed, tribulations unforeseen by the pair during the reunification of the Adrestian Empire. Fódlan descended into chaos much to the blame of Emperor Edelgard von Hresvelg- beside her always, her most faithful advisor. Bernadetta von Varley instilled a human perspective into Edelgard's every movement. She kept the emperor emotionally grounded as effectively as Edelgard lifted Bernadetta's confidence.
After the war, as axes and arrows were exchanged for quills and stationary, bureaucracy sunk it's fangs into the pair's life. Bernadetta had inherited her territory after her father's exile and promptly gave it up for a life in Enbarr. Together, the emperor and her loyal advisor healed a divided nation. No advisor nor guard was allowed entry into the royal couple's bedroom, Bernie-Bear needed her privacy. But if a stranger had ever entered, they'd undoubtably be drawn to an unorthodox wall decor. For what reason would Edelgard von Hresvelg or Bernadetta von Varley frame a raggedy page sloppily torn from a book?