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Bernadetta grunted, noticing that her hands’ constant shivering had jostled around everything she was carrying on her delicately placed tray. There was no fixing that now, however, since she had just reached the balcony that was her destination. This place was a beautiful vantage point for Countess Varley, back when it had been her mother, and of the few nice memories she had of her childhood, many had taken place here. The woman already sat here today, however, was Dorothea Arnault, her fiancée.
“H-Happy birthday, Dorothea,” Bernadetta said, setting down the tray before preparing herself to take her seat. Dorothea frowned, looking up at her.
“Are you OK, Bern?” Dorothea asked. Bernadetta nodded, nearly tipping over the teapot she had reached out for. Before she finally grasped the handle, Dorothea’s own hand had seized hers.
“You can tell me. I know being back here can’t be easy for you,” Dorothea said.
“It’s been fine. Really. I only really had to deal with the count in a few rooms, and I can ignore them. It’s just… I want nothing but the best for you, and it’s been too long since I’ve been domestic, and I burnt the biscuits three times before making the good ones, and-” Bernadetta began, and Dorothea brought her finger up to her chin before she continued on for too long.
“Bern. It’s my first birthday with you after the war. Faerghus is free, Ingrid is recovering, and the Agarthans are finally too weak to organise the replacement of anyone with a friend. And we’re going to be married, too. Knowing you’ve tried so hard to make sure the food tastes good means more to me than actually succeeding. It’s not like I’m that picky,” Dorothea said, taking one of the chocolate biscuits and throwing it into her mouth whole.
“Of… of course…” Bernadetta said, taking her own seat and scarfing down three of the chocolate ones.
“You’re so talented in the kitchen, Bern. You know how to make a girl feel special on her day,” Dorothea said, turning to her. Bernadetta nodded, the sight of the elegant woman in another of her flattering red dresses making her feel all sorts of heat in addition to her usual skittishness. That’s why her own dress was so loose and easy to breathe in. The fact Dorothea’s gaze traced her body was just a side benefit.
“How’s your knitting coming along, then? I heard you’ve been making a pegasus for Ingrid while she recovers,” Dorothea asked.
“Oh, it’s great. It took me two tries to get the body right, but this one looks beautiful and it doesn’t even have the stuffing yet. Just gotta figure out how the wings are going to work,” Bernadetta said.
“That’s great, Bern. It’s going to mean so much to her,” Dorothea said. Bernadetta nodded, taking a sip of the tea.
“How’s your Bernie Bear?” she asked.
“She’s still holding. Of course, I don’t cuddle her as much, since I have the real thing and she’s much better. Still, I take care of her and haven’t seen any loose threads or such,” Dorothea assured her. Bernadetta lurched forward a little, and Dorothea leaned back in her seat invitingly. With a glint in her eye encouraging her to take the leap, Bernadetta jumped up and parked herself onto Dorothea’s lap. Dorothea grabbed another chocolate biscuit and pushed it into Bernadetta’s mouth, following up by taking one of the plainer ones for herself.
“All the time is Bernie cuddle time, and don’t you forget it. Never think I won’t make time for my brave little girl,” Dorothea said.
“Th-thank you, Thea. I love you,” Bernadetta said, considering grabbing some more of the tea, but thinking better of it. She was in no state to hold anything that could spill. Dorothea, for her part, seemed to be of a similar mind, idly brushing her thumb against Bern’s mouth, gathering crumbs or just allowing herself to touch.
“I love you, Bern. And thank you for a wonderful chat. This is a great view out here,” Dorothea said. Bernadetta looked out at the mountains in the distance, and the picturesque little villages and forests dotting the landscape between them and the manor.
“Hm, it’s good, but I think I rather the more personal view in here,” Bernadetta said, turning back to Dorothea.
“You do like your inside, don’t you, darling? Well then, care to take ourselves inside?” Dorothea asked.
“With so much food still to go?” Bernadetta asked, looking at her biscuits.
“Grab your favourites,” Dorothea said, snatching up her own. Bernadetta hauled up her chocolate, stuffing some in her mouth while others went into the little pockets of her blouse. Once she tried stuffing a sixth biscuit, Dorothea grabbed her hand yet again, and grasped her shoulders, urging her to finish her chewing before she choked.
“A chef’s pride, I take it,” Dorothea said.
“What can I say? I love me some Bernie chocolate,” Bernadetta giggled, before putting a few more in.
“I can’t say you don’t have a point there,” Dorothea said, trying to do the same thing and only managing two biscuits a bite.
“You’ve gotta use your whole cheeks,” Bernadetta suggested.
“Differences in hunger. Even in Mittlefrank, I never had enough food to just stuff down my throat as much as I wanted. So shall we get going? I want to see that birthday painting of yours,” Dorothea said.
“It’s… it could use a few last touches,” Bernadetta said.
“Well, might as well go see them done together. I’m happy to see you put those last touches that really make it pop, whatever it’s of,” Dorothea said.
“I think you’ll like it. I got inspired by your songs,” Bernadetta told her, as they started heading off, the teapot and the last few biscuits left for one of the maids to finish off.
“That doesn’t narrow it down, but no need to tell me. I’d like to guess your thought process before you tell me,” Dorothea said.