Chapter Text
It had been only a few weeks since Bernie last laid eyes on Marianne, but she practically skipped on the way to her partner’s private Garreg Mach chambers. The weather, still trapped in the throes of a cold, desolate winter, remained as dreary as ever, but it might as well have been the most beautiful, enriching day of summer (as much as she’d avoid it at the best of times). Marianne was home! Such was her joy, she didn’t even notice the stares of Linhardt nor Dorothea as she skipped down a path, oblivious to the world around her, because Marianne was home!
Practically bouncing from foot to foot, Bernie wrapped her knuckles on the door to Marianne’s room with more enthusiasm then… well, since the war had begun, actually. Only a moment passed before Marianne’s soft voice called out for Bernie to enter. She gave herself a few seconds to smooth out the creases on her white, buttoned shirt and ensure her black, knee-length shorts were free of any errant dirt before stepping through, her heart doing somersaults. This wasn’t the first time she’d been so excited for the return of her love, but with the world in the state it was - and the fact she’d already spent five years away from her, she’d never take the time they could be together for granted. Maybe she was a little too clingy - maybe so, but it wasn’t as if Marianne was any less of the same. Without any further delays, Bernie stepped inside Marianne’s room.
Marianne was dressed in a rather tight blue dress that accentuated her immodest torso, its skirts falling to her ankles, and her light-coloured hair was unbound, tumbling down her back almost to her hips. Even in relatively casual, private garb, bereft of makeup with eye bags and all, Bernie’s heart caught in her throat every time she looked at her. Every time her gaze fell on Marianne, Bernie’s mind exploded with inspiration, ideas for works of the pen and paintbrush alike flowing like the spring rains.
Bernie had thought
she’d
been excited to see Marianne, but in less than a second Marianne closed the distance between the two of them, wrapping her arms tightly around Bernie and pulling her into an incredibly tight embrace.
“M-Mari!” Bernie mumbled into Marianne’s neck, hugging her around her middle and trying not to cry from the sudden emotion of the moment. She’d almost forgotten the warm, floral scent that coated her love like a veil. Anxieties and fears born from Marianne’s deployment to the front melted away in that embrace, and the shorter artist sniffed a few times involuntarily.
“My dear Bernadetta.” Marianne replied, shifting a bit so she could kiss Bernie on the forehead. “I missed you so…”
“I missed you so much!” Bernie echoed, wriggling a bit more tightly against her partner. “I missed you, and I was so worried, and I missed you, and, and-” Marianne giggled a bit as she stroked her partner’s hair to try and calm her.
“Oh, Bernie bear, I’m here, and I’m home safe.” She slipped out of the hug for a second so she could properly kiss her. Bernie lent into the kiss hard, pulling Marianne tightly against her once more.
“W-Welcome home.” Bernie mumbled, embarrassed about her display of affection, but Marianne just giggled again and planted another kiss on her lover’s head.
“Come, sit with me!” Marianne said, with no small amount of excitement as she sat on her plush, two-person bed. Honestly, the only reason Bernie still had a room of her own was when Marianne was away on the war effort; otherwise, every night was spent curled up beside her lover in that bed, but she never felt comfortable sleeping there alone - it always just felt so wrong, so lonely.
It reminded her too much of home.
“Have you been good?” Marianne continued. Whilst she was genuinely asking her how her time in Garreg Mach had been, her words also probed deeper, an unspoken question hidden within. Bernie felt her cheeks flush, fully aware of the subtlety in her beloved’s words. Her heart began to thump harder, and harder, but she managed to control her reaction; she didn’t want to give up the game
too
quickly.
“Y-Yeah. I have. I-I did some training with F-Ferdinand and D-Dorothea, and…” Bernie sat down beside Marianne, and for some time, they just chatted for a while. There was a wonderful inevitability to nights like these, nights where they were reunited after weeks and months apart; they both knew where these encounters would be going, but both young women enjoyed taking the time just to be comfortable in each other's presence. It always made Bernie appreciate how similar, yet different they were. They were both introverted, but Bernie enjoyed and was generally happy with that part of her life, whilst Marianne actively worked to expand her social skills. Or their shared love of animals, one which Bernie experienced from afar (due to a variety of hair-eating scenarios), whilst Marianne (who had experienced none of these hair-eating scenarios) preferred a more hands-on approach for her beloved creatures. Their love of the arts - Bernie’s skill with the brush and pen, whilst Marianne’s skills lay more in analysis.
Different worlds, yet pieces of which they shared. Forced to work together as students, five years ago, these little connections are what they had used, desperately, to form a friendship - a friendship that quickly blossomed into courtship, which had quickly blossomed into…
Well, to say there were no secrets between lovers… fewer things were truer of Bernie and Marianne’s relationship.
“Any new art pieces?” Marianne asked, resting her head on the top of her hand, her eyes never leaving Bernie’s face.
“N-Nothing that I’ve finished, nothing really…” She decided not to speak of her latest painting, a nigh-perfect (at least in Bernie’s often, overly critical eyes) recreation of Marianne, garbed in a dress so stunning it threatened to overwhelm Bernie’s senses even as she painted it. “I’ll… I’ll show you when it’s done, ‘kay?” Marianne’s eyes flashed with genuine excitement, her lips tugging up in a way that terrified Bernie; she probably knew she was up to something like that. Bernie probably wouldn’t even be able to look at her when she unveiled it.
“I can’t wait, Bernadetta. Truly.” They settled into comfortable silence for a little while, content with each other’s presence after their time apart. Any days and weeks they were forced to be away stung, but of course that had nothing on the five years they’d been torn apart following Edelgard’s declaration of war upon the rest of Fodlan, the two young women’s budding romance ripped in two by their own factions' positions. It had only been Professor Byleth’s return that had brought them back together. Ironically, Bernadetta’s world had never been more filled with horror and suffering - it had taken a while to deal with the self-inficited guilt from her realisation, but since she was finally with Mariiane once more, she’d never been happier.
“Did… Did you have to fight this time?” Bernie asked to break the silence, her voice wavering slightly. There were few mages as accomplished as Marianne in the church’s army, but few suffered under the weight of (ultimately, necessary) casualties than her. Marianne was a pacifist at heart, but had an equal understanding of the scale and stakes of the war. And so she fought. And fought. And fought, even as the occasional grey, stressborn hair emerged in her light hair and the bags under her eyes grew more dire.
“I didn’t see combat this time, thank the Goddess.” Marianne clasped her hands in brief prayer. “We were far behind the front lines, so me and Hilda just worked in commanding roles.” Bernie let out a little sigh of relief. “You know I’d be fine, even if we had to fight.”
“I know!” Bernie retorted. “I just… I just get worried, y’know? You’re my Mari. I… I couldn’t imagine anything happening to you, especially if I… if I wasn’t there to help you.”
“Oh, Bernie bear…” Marianne murmured, wrapping an arm around her lover. Bernie wriggled against her, resting her head on Marianne’s shoulder. “That’s sweet of you to say, but I was always with Hilda - she’d make sure I was never in strife.” The Golden Deer member gave her love a wry grin. “Either way, she knows if I got even a scratch on me, you’d rip her in two.”
“I-I wouldn’t rip her in two… M-Much .” Bernie mumbled in reply, but Marianne just giggled before letting out a light sigh. “You okay?”
“Just a bit tired. We only got in around an hour ago, and we instantly had to go get debriefed from the Professor. Other than that, though…” Marianne made a long humming noise. “I must say, though, the weather has been warming up these last few weeks, no?” She fanned her face with her hand, before letting go of Bernie’s shoulder so she could unbutton the first few buttons of her dress.
It was not, in fact, particularly warm in her room, but Marianne had never been particularly
subtle
with her advances.
Bernie’s eyes practically
snapped
to Marianne’s now lightly exposed cleavage, and she shifted her body a little bit, resting her hand over her lap as subtly as she could. She had been excited just to see, to
be
with Marianne again, but it hadn’t just been a few weeks since she’d
seen
Marianne - it’d also been a few weeks since she’d seen Marianne’s fantastically wonderful breasts. Marianne, letting out a sigh as the air met newly exposed skin, did not miss Bernie’s gaze, not the subtle shifting of her weight, and a cheeky grin marked her otherwise stoic features. She lent against Bernie once more, turning slightly to both press her chest lightly against Bernie’s arm, and to give her lover a better look at her sizable chest. Bernie almost managed to hide her splutter. Almost. Either way, the crimson blush creeping over her cheeks would’ve given up the game first anyway. “Enjoying the view, my dear?” Bernie’s gaze
snapped
away once more, trying to look as interested as possible in a patch of faded paint on the wall.
“N-Not really, just wondering if we should t-take the time to p-paint the walls here. M-Maybe a light blue? It’d match your hair, and…” She let out a squeak as Marianne lent more tightly against her, planting a little, teasing kiss on Bernie’s cheek.
“You’re so pretty when you’re flustered, Bernadetta.” Marianne giggled, ignoring Bernie’s insipid non-sequiter. She tucked a lock of hair behind Bernie’s ear, the black Eagle’s heart thumping even harder once more in response. “I’m sorry, I must ask, how else have you been spending your time?” There it was, that little inflection that sent Bernie’s heart wild. Marianne lent in even closer, goosebumps exploding across Bernie’s face. “Besides the arts, and training, and the war. What else ?” The implication that had bloomed when they first began to catch up rose up again, but this time, Bernie knew she couldn’t escape it. Nor did she have any desire to do so.
“N-Not, no, not much really. You know. Normal stuff. A-Army stuff.” Bernie’s gaze glanced away, evasive. “W-What about you?”
“Oh, there’s only so much one can do on the campaign trail.” Marianne purred, her lips now very, very close to Bernie’s ear. “Hilda and I had to share a tent, so I wasn’t given a moment to myself. Not that a moment alone wouldn’t be fruitless…” Her body tensed, ever so briefly, Bernie bracing herself for the frustration that had grown to be a part of her beloved threatened to bare its fangs, but Marianne quickly relaxed again. “How were your nights, Bernadetta?”
“Several nights I lay awake, r-reading some stuff, o-o-or letting my mind wander, b-b-but I did what you said, I didn’t…” Marianne didn’t let her finish, her breaths coming faster, harder, more excited.
“Did you let your hands wander, Bernadetta?” Marianne whispered, hot breath on her ear setting Bernie wonderfully on edge. “Or have you been a good girl, keeping yourself busy, until I could come home?” Bernie had to stifle a genuine moan, even as there was an involuntary, but oh-so-warraned twitch between her legs.
“M-Mari, I-I…” She could barely talk, her arousal infecting her brain, making it eschew basic functions in search for humanity’s most natural, most basic need. “I-I’ve been good, s-so please…!”
Marianne’s eyes flashed, and before Bernie could blink, Marianne was on top of her, straddling her middle, leaning in to kiss her with an almost bestial need. Bernie reciprocated with almost equal ferocity, her tongue slipping between Marianne’s lips to taste Marianne’s taste .
They had different worlds, parts of which they shared, the parts that had brought them together in the first place.
Though, if they had only shared one thing - just one thing, it was how much they enjoyed sex. How much they loved,
craved
, sex.
Sex was, to be fair (and as embarrassing as it was to admit to herself) a pretty large, important part of their relationship, but Bernie knew they both wanted something deeper than just the pleasures of the flesh.
At least, on nights where they hadn’t just spent weeks without any true relief .
How long they made out on Marianne’s bed for, Bernie had no idea. Her world became just the smell and taste of Marianne’s lips, her hands sliding beneath the back of Bernie’s shirt, and her own exploring up the legs of Marianne’s skirts. One moment Marianne had her pinned to the bed, the next Bernie scrambled on top so she could take her lover's cheeks into her hands. Again, it had only been a few weeks, but a few weeks without kissing Marianne might as well have been an entire lifetime. Every few minutes, they’d break apart the kiss, ostensibly to go back to just cuddling and talking, but they’d share that hungry, wanting look in their eyes and they’d go right back to making out, rolling around the bed.
Eventually, after a long, long time - yet to a part of Bernie, not nearly long enough - they broke apart, Marianne straddling her smaller lover. The Golden Deer member stroked the smaller girl’s cheek, unable to hide the beautiful smile marking her face.
“I love you.” Marianne said simply, leaning in to rest her head on Bernie’s own. Bernie stiffened up, the phrase Marianne had uttered a hundred, hundred times still sending butterflies aflutter in her belly. Well, that, and the fantastic view of her cleavage helped.
“I-I love you too, Marianne!” Bernie squeaked back. Marianne sat up a little, stroking a little patch of Marianne’s shoulder. That look was alive in her lover's eyes, Bernie thought, and she knew the question that was coming next. Bernie stiffened again, but this time, it made Marianne twitch in response too.
“You seem excited.” Marianne murmured, her smile growing into a cheshire-like grin. Bernie wriggled a bit under her girlfriend, but that just further confirmed Marianne’s suspicions. “ Very excited.”
“S-Shush, M-Mari.” Bernie mumbled, averting her eyes as her cheeks flushed scarlet. Marianne lent in again, hand grazing her cheek to turn Bernie’s gaze back upon herself.
“Bernadetta…” Marianne whispered, kissing her lightly on the nose. “Could you… Could you undress yourself for me?” Bernie hesitated for a second, ingrained terrors threatening to awaken, but it was only a second. She wordlessly nodded, and Marianne quickly scrambled off of her. Bernie took a few steps back to give Marianne a better view of the show. Marianne could be a bit voyeuristic, but Bernie couldn’t help but feel there was a seed of exhibitionism in her soul. Exhibitionism for one person? Was that a thing? She wasn’t sure, but she shook her dark locks slightly to recenter herself. Marianne leaned in from the edge of the bed, eyes alight with excitement and longing. Bernie took a deep breath, as she always needed before the show began.
Even if Bernie had always been, always would be a girl, her body had always been in sharp contrast to what had always been true in her mind. Even through all those years, as her father had called her his son, as her mother had tried her best to support her, even if she didn’t understand for so long, Bernie had known that she was, and always would be, a girl. But for a long time, even looking at herself in the mirror caused feelings she barely understood to bloom in her chest. And so, she hated mirrors. She hated reflections. She hated anything that showed her reflection, reminders of what she wasn’t, but was…
And then, Marianne had come into her life, and Bernie realized she could be who she was, and always would be, and still take pride and love in the body she’d grown to hate.
Beyond her parents, Marianne was the only one who knew her - all of her. Her father had tried to beat it out of her, her mother had tried to understand, but Marianne was the only one who knew Bernadetta von Varley. Body and soul. Still, that night that had played out in the months before war had broken out echoed in Bernie’s mind. Marianne sat on the bed, patiently, as Bernie had slowly disrobed of her own volition, baring her soul and truths to the girl she’d decided to devote her life to. She’d stood there for a few moments, utterly naked, but she hadn’t shied away, even as tears had rolled down Bernie’s cheeks. The moment had been the culmination of the love and intimacy that had grown between the two young women all that year; they hadn’t even had sex that night, after Bernie revealed herself to Marianne; the Golden Deer member had just held her the entire night, whispering love and affirmations, proud and overwhelmed that Bernie was able to share this with her. Bernadetta von Varley had never cried more than that night, but she’d also never been happier. Marianne had seen everything she was, everything she’d always be, and had called her beautiful .
With Marianne’s eyes watching her every move, Bernie slid her black shorts down her legs, leaving her in a smaller, tighter pair of undershorts that she wore to not draw undue
confusion
. Even if Marianne had accepted her as a youth, Bernie still kept the truth of her deeper identity to herself - Fodlan was still, at the end of the day, a fairly conservative society, and few individuals like Bernie had emerged to great social acceptance. Only her parents, Marianne, and the remaining members of the Black Eagles knew Bernie’s deepest truth.
But only Marianne knew her in
this
way. Her lover’s eyes flashed, that hunger in her eyes taking on an almost maddening glaze. A little smile spread across Bernie’s lips; if she left Marianne waiting any longer, she wouldn’t have been surprised to have her partner literally
drooling
. As appealing as that was…
Taking in a breath, Bernie hooked her thumbs around the waistband of her undershorts, tugging them down and off in one fluid motion, not letting the ever-present anxiety make her pull back. Marianne stiffened, eyes practically welded between Bernie’s legs, virtually licking her lips at the meal before her.
Bernie was already rock-hard; she’d been aroused the moment she’d stepped into Marianne’s quarter, but had only grown fully once Marianne’s glorious chest had filled her vision. Her thin, rather long cock throbbing ever-so-slightly at the still fully clothed beauty sitting before her.
The first few times they’d made love, this had felt wrong; obscenely, horrifying wrong. Now, nothing was more exciting.
Carefully, Bernie unbuttoned her white shirt, letting the fabric fall away to reveal her slight chest and narrow frame, leaving her naked. As if in response to her burgeoning excitement, her cock twitched a few more times. Bernie groaned a little bit, hands gripping at her own thighs, fighting the urge to give in, to provide much-needed ministrations to her neglected, excited cock. Marianne giggled a bit, making what felt like Bernie’s entire body flush, though she felt her cock unconsciously twitch once more. If it was anyone else, Bernie wouldn’t know if she got off feeling so exposed, got off being so subtly at the mercy of another.
Or maybe, as she was beginning to come to terms with, her taste in literature mirrored her reality. After all, in her favorite
spicy
novels, she always found more in common with the one
getting fucked
, rather than the one providing
said fucking
.