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Dorothea was as happy as the next person that the war had drawn to a close, but after a few hours of the festivities at Enbarr, she could certainly understand why Bernie had chosen to leave after a single dance. She had always felt, deep inside her somewhere, that she wasn’t going to have a lot of fun without Bernie, but she had taken her time to notice. She politely excused herself, to Magdalene’s surprise, and headed along through to the room set aside for herself and Bernie. Bernie was sitting on the bed, in her nightgown, with her hair brushed and a hand on a box. Dorothea recognised the design of the box as being for a dress.
“Oh, is this what you wanted to show me?” Dorothea asked. Bernie nodded, and Dorothea closed the door and locked it before reaching for her current dress’s laces.
“Uh… this isn’t a ‘tonight’ dress, though…” Bernie mumbled, though clearly not averse to Dorothea taking off her clothes. Dorothea decided she ought to do so anyway, if only to change into nightclothes before slumping off to bed. She was starting to feel real happy she slinked away while she was still moderately alert. Bernie helped her loose from the various laces and clasps, feeling her sides, arms and legs as she worked. Dorothea shivered, loving how gentle Bernie was as she did so- fair enough, considering it took weeks to convince her to do it at all.
“Can I try it on tonight anyway? For fun, at least?” Dorothea asked. Bernie turned red, a surprisingly rare trait for her these days, at least for when she was alone with Dorothea. Dorothea had a sneaking suspicion this dress was a lot more special than she had assumed.
“Well… it’s… I’ve heard it’s bad luck,” Bernie explained. Dorothea frowned, trying to come up with any sort of dress related superstition that would cause bad luck. Bernie wasn’t even a tailor, beyond her love of making dresses for Dorothea and Dorothea alone, and didn’t seem like the type to pick up the superstitions of the trade. Bernie opened the box, and took the shoulders of the dress with great caution, pulling the fine silk from the box as if it were gold. Before Dorothea could so much as glean the shape of the dress, she had observed that quite a lot of it was white, and laced with patterns of flowers, musical staves and gemstones. With the main body of the dress pulled from the container and Bernie struggling with an additional lacy train, Dorothea got the idea.
“Is this my wedding dress?” Dorothea asked. Bernie nodded, holding it out for Dorothea to touch. Dorothea gave it the most gentle of caresses, suddenly understanding why Bernie was so nervous about holding it and gaining an equal respect for its condition, but at the same time, the gentle texture under her fingers was heavenly. For a hobbyist tailor, Bernadetta had crafted something Dorothea could not have wished for from a professional for more money than Adrestia had in its coffers- which, admittedly, had been emptied significantly by the war effort. There was just one problem with the gift.
“So who is my spouse, Bernie?” Dorothea asked. Bernadetta squeaked, accepting Dorothea’s help in putting the dress back in its box while she mustered up the courage to offer her suggestion.
“I… I thought…” Bernie whispered, and had Dorothea not been hanging to her words, she would’ve missed them entirely.
“There is only one person who I want to be with forever, Bernie, and that’s you. I wouldn’t marry for all the gold in the world, if it meant we had to go our separate ways,” Dorothea said. Bernie nodded, and smiled.
“Then… then you would marry me?” Bernie asked. Dorothea did something Bernie had almost never made her do before- she turned red herself. As much as she had always hoped to be married to a wife, she had never imagined Bernie in the other wedding dress. But here she was, the one doing the asking.
“Bernie… I… I…” Dorothea began, the words ready to leap into the world, but her mouth as shocked as the rest of her and not letting them into the air. She found a rich new vein of empathy for Bernie, as she struggled to say the words she had wanted to say for years. Bernie looked at her with a sense of amazement, her hands nervously twitching. Dorothea reached out, and pulled Bernie’s arms around her, and Bernie started with the sort of comforting caresses Dorothea had given her a thousand times. Dorothea steadied her breathing, and backed up, looking at Bernie’s eyes, level with hers.
“I would love nothing more than to marry you, Bernie,” Dorothea said. She wasn’t sure who moved, but the two were kissing the next conscious moment. Dorothea couldn’t believe her fortune in finding a delicate soul like Bernie, who craved physical affection and emotional comfort more than anything. The one thing she had that she would keep well into her grey years, and the woman that was to be her wife needed it in her life. She could not imagine a more perfect marriage.
“I hope you don’t mind, Dorothea, but… I don’t have my dress. So it’ll be a little while before…” Bernadetta said. Dorothea looked around, finding herself holding onto Bernie while they hugged, the dress having been pushed to a far end of the bed and Bernie’s arms held firmly around her.
“No, take your time, Bernie. I want you to enjoy your dress as much as I will mine. And besides, there’ll be plenty of big weddings, we can sneak ours in after everyone’s all tired out and have a smaller crowd,” Dorothea said. Bernie beamed, and pushed to set Dorothea down. Dorothea was ready to insist otherwise, to fall into bed regardless of her nudity, only for reality to set in. Bernie had to move the wedding dress, at least.