Chapter Text
There were many things that Bernadetta did not like. Surprises... Being the centre of attention... The confusing - often contradictory - requests of her parents...
As she stood in her pajamas at the airport at 5:30AM… She was three for three.
She had been woken up four hours earlier and effectively thrown onto a plane. Her mother told her that she was already packed and was going to be picked up at the airport once it arrives in Enbarr.
By whom will she be picked up? Who knows! She didn’t explain that and Bernie’s stammering didn’t provoke her to explain.
Bernie wasn’t surprised. She was outright terrified.
Moreover, everyone was staring at her. Well, okay, they weren’t visibly staring at her. But she knew in her heart they were judging her! She was in her pajamas! Her RWBY-themed pajamas. They all were staring at her RWBY-themed pajamas and were probably judging her - either for her inability to get dressed properly, or her poor choice of pajamas, or her terrible choice in online web shows.
And, above all, she was tired. As far as Bernie knew, she was being thrown out. She wasn’t sure why exactly - she’s guessing she probably left a tab open on the house computer with some fluffy gay fanfiction that her parents disapproved of - but she was sad. She did feel an ache in her heart.
Her parents sometimes seemed to expect the world of her. Sometimes it seemed like they didn’t care. Her father would do anything - anything - if he thought it would boost her marriageability.
Buy a video game for his daughter because she’d enjoy it? No! Video games are for boys.
Buy a video game for his daughter because boys would like her if she liked video games? Now that’s an appealing proposition. You get a PlayStation and Crash Bandicoot.
It was a PlayStation Vita and a copy of Crash Bandicoot Insane Trilogy for the PS4, but Bernie had learnt to take victories as they came.
So, above all, she didn’t know what was happening now. Her mother just sent her on an airplane with vague promises of someone picking her up.
This is the end, Bernie. It’s time to move on. I live in this airport now... I will survive off of the Dairy Queen ketchup packets… Maybe one day a kind stranger will take pity on me and - IS THAT A HORSE?
It was, in fact, a horse. With a carriage too! Clotting up into the taxi stalls like they were meant for them.
Some people stopped and stared, but many just went about their business - as if it is a completely ordinary occurrence, a horse showing up to pick someone up from the airport. In 2019. In one of the busiest cities in all of Fodlan.
Well. This is good! Now nobody will notice me because a horse is distracting - OH GOD THE DRIVER IS LOOKING AT ME.
The driver pulled out a scroll - an honest-to-goddess paper scroll with a hand-drawn drawing of Bernadetta scribbled onto it. He looked up at Bernie, then down at the scroll.
Play dead. He won’t notice you.
“Are you Bernadetta?”
He noticed me!
“Y-yes?”
The coachman gestured behind him, towards an enclosed carriage.
“Your ride to GMU is here.”
“By a h-horse?!?”
“Well, you don’t think we’d have much luck getting there by car, would you?”
Bernie didn’t know what GMU was, so she didn’t know how one would get there, but she got in the cabin without question, safe-guarding herself with a pile of bags on either side of her.
If we crash, my bags can protect me!
As she was assembling her fortress, a stranger ran up to the carriage, holding a couple file folders of paper and wearing a yellow hoodie with “GMU - Golden Deer” plastered across it in big letters.
“Do you have room for one more?” he asked the coachman. “I got so busy with plans that I forgot to plan my own way to campus…”
Seemingly overtaken by the charm of this stranger, the coachman smiled and said “Of course, Mr Riegan. It’d be an honor.”
The coachman knew the stranger. They were clearly in kahoots!
Welp. I’m going to die. They are bringing me to this GMU place to kill me. This is the end.
The stranger opened the door to the coach and slid inside, taking a seat next to Bernie. He flashed her an apologetic smile; she flashed him a nervous grimace with her best “Please do not kill and/or eat me” eyes.
Maybe he’ll let me go if I’m too weak… Stupid Bernie, carrying the bags by myself. I should have made a show of it!
The stranger broke the silence. “So sorry to crash the party! I just really need to be at campus for the first orientation session. I’m one of the house leaders and they’ll totally chew me out if I’m late my first day.”
Bernie was silent. She was playing dead.
The stranger continued to talk. “What house are you going to be in? I knew it’s a kind of dumb tradition, but I suppose most traditions are in their own way… It also allows them to sell three times the numbers of hoodies in the bookstore! Well, the marketplace, I mean…”
No response. He’ll go away soon if he thinks she’s died.
“Are you… okay?” He reached over to move one of her bags to look at her directly and she panics.
“PLEASE DON’T EAT ME! I’M NOT VERY TASTY!”
The stranger laughs at this, showing off his shiny teeth. She was right. She’s about to be eaten. Hes’ probably a vampire - no, a werewolf - no, a werevampire!
Aren’t all vampires werevampires? The were part is for humans… Stupid Bernie…
“I’m not going to eat you. What’s wrong? Are you sleep-deprived from the trip or something?”
Bernie gives a polite nod, changing tactics.
Engaging in conversation speedrun. Take the path of least resistance. Picking all neutral options in this dialogue tree...
“I get it… GMU can be pretty far away for some people. It’s crazy how far people will go for a such a surrealist take on a university education, but I suppose it is ‘The Best in Traditional Education,’ as the ads go.”
Information. Bernie was trading her time and energy for information from the not-cannibal stranger. A mighty fine deal, if she did say so herself.
“Oh. It’s a… University?”
“Of course it is! Do you… not know where you’re going?”
Bernie shook her head.
“I was woken up and told to get into an airplane. Now I’m here.”
He laughed at this. Again. He then realized Bernie was being serious and looked at her with concern.
“Well, that does explain the outfit… I’m sorry that happened to you. Is there anything I can do to help? Like, are you coming here under duress?”
Bernie shrugged.
“I don’t know what 'here' is, honestly. I’m sorry for worrying you!”
The stranger paused, pensively. “Well… Allow me to be the one to introduce you to Garreg Mach University then!” He pulled out a paper from inside one of the folders he was carrying and began to read. “In operation for thousands of years, Garreg Mach is a university that prides itself on traditionalism and legacy.”
Bernie let out a noise that mimicked a squeak toy.
“Traditionalism? Oh no. My parents know, don’t they… I knew it shouldn’t have dressed up as Xena for Halloween! It was too obvious. I’m ruined. Off to a conversion camp university…”
“Woah, uh, that’s not what I meant at all! Are you, like, sure you’re okay?”
Bernie was too busy crying to respond.
“Look, uh… Miss? You’re fine. Garreg Mach is ‘traditionalist’ in its education. Like, all lectures are conducted in-person with you writing on paper using quills. All research is done in a massive library. Okay, actually, they do have one building with some computers after the Arena burned down in 2004 and they realized they had no need for public fighting anymore, but it’s used for, like, one introductory programming course by Seteth and sometimes a Film Studies course if Manuela’s feeling spicy. And there are wifi and outlets in the dorm rooms, though no computers so hopefully you packed your own? That said, uh, like... They're fine with queer people? If that's what you're implying?"
“Oh.” Bernie replied. “So… Why am I being sent there?”
“There are three types of kids who are sent to GMU. Kids with conservative parents with technophobic mindsets, kids with hippie parents who want their children to get ‘connected with nature,’ and kids with rich parents who want to show off. Any of those sounding familiar?”
Bernie sniffled. “The last one. My name was Bernadetta Von Varley. As in, Von Varley Printing.”
“Ahhhhh. Well, good to know that the Von Varley parents treat their daughter terribly. I’ll be sure to consider that next time I'm dictionary shopping..."
“What? No. I’m sorry. It’s -”
“It’s okay, Bernadetta. Just breathe…” He flipped through a few more papers. “You’ll be in the Black Eagles, I’m afraid. Under the guidance of Edelgard von Hresvleg. Hey, you’ll have one hell of an advocate for you with her in your corner.”
“Okay.” Bernie replied, nervously. She didn’t know who Edelgard was, but the overly-familiar tone he said her name in suggested that he thought she knew. She wasn’t about to correct him.
“So, hey. Don’t worry, okay? This’ll be a fine three years for you.”
“THREE YEARS?! I have to spend three years outside of my room? With people?”
“Oh, sorry! It’s a three-year degree program… You’ll have summers off though? Also there are individual dorm rooms at the campus...”
Bernie nodded at the man. She wasn't sure if this was better or worse... but it was information and context.
“Okay… Thanks. You’re awfully good at this, mister…”
The non-cannibalistic good-at-explaining things stranger did a quick facepalm. “Sorry. I forgot to introduce myself. Claude von Reigen, leader of the Golden Deer, he/him. Nice to meet you, Bernadetta.”
“S-same to you. And you can call me Bernie… If you’d like.”
“Sounds good, Bernie. Preferred pronouns?”
“Oh! S-she or her. Sorry.”
“Don't apologize?Now… I’m sure you have more questions, so I’d be happy to field them on the way to the campus. It’ll be a while - this horse will be making some climbs that a car could not…”
Bernie smiled. She had started off scared - and she still definitely was - but Claude wasn’t going to eat her. Moreover, he had subtly hinted that maybe… maybe he’d even accept her? Maybe others would too. Maybe it'll be a good year.
…
Ingrid sighed, sitting at the coffee table next to a crummy discount java shop at the airport. Their bright blue “GMU - Blue Lions” hoodie felt a little bit on-the-nose, but they knew there was value in being prepared.
It’s what meant they were 2 hours early for their flight.
They were, all things considered, quite excited. They were going to GMU - there’s a school fit for a knight if they’d ever heard of one. Sure, their father was mostly paying for it in the hopes they’d find an elite man to marry, but… They’d cross that bridge when they encounter it. For now, it was time to celebrate what may be the start of the best three years of their life.
At least... in premise... They knew that at least 2.5 of the years would be spent babysitting their childhood friends who also had been accepted. But, hey, they'd got a different plane ride from the rest of them, so maybe it's putting their best foot forward.
“Excuse me? Is this seat taken?”
Ingrid looks up to see a smiling brunette. In spite of it being an airport and ungodly early hour, this woman looked perfect in every way.
“Sure.” Ingrid replied. “Go ahead.”
“Thanks!” the brunette said, in a sing-song voice and with a kind smile. “I think we’re going to the same place, you know.”
“We are? How do you know?”
She gestured at Ingrid’s hoodie. Ingrid physically looked down for a reminder.
“OH! GMU? Blue Lions?”
“GMU. Black Eagles. Dorothea Arnault.”
“Ingrid Galatea. They-them pronouns, if it’s not too much trouble…”
“Oh, nothing would be too much trouble if it means respecting a cute enby like yourself.”
“W-what?”
“I just call it like I see it! It’s what people like about me…”
“Well. Um. Thank you very much, Miss Arnault.”
“Dorothea.”
“Er, uh, Dorothea. So… What are you looking forward to studying at GMU?”
“Well, first two years are general studies, so I’ll be keeping my mind open. I imagine something in an Art History direction though, as that’s kind of where my passions are. How about you?”
As Ingrid gathered up their breath to respond when suddenly a pair of young teens approached the table. Confused, Ingrid asked “Can we help you? Are you looking for something?”
The teens both stammered nervously, causing Dorothea to interject with a polite “It’s perfectly alright. Do you have something to say?”
One of them began to stammer in a way that formed words, exclaiming towards Dorothea that “We ju-ust wanted to say that yo-your reading of B-Bobbi in the London version of Company w-was amazing. And just… so influential on our production.”
“That’s lovely to hear!” Dorothea said, beaming a bright smile. “Did you want a photo?”
The pair nodded excitedly and Ingrid watched them stumble with their phones to take a couple selfies, after they exchanged some more pleasantries and said their farewells. With a smile, Dorothea turned back to Ingrid.
“Sorry about that!” she said with a wink, not seeming very sorry at all.
“So… You’re famous?” Ingrid questioned.
Dorothea laughed again - a pretty laugh that rang out like bells in the air - before responding in a rhythmic “Reports of my fame are greatly exaggerated”
“Really, as those kids seemed -”
“Exacerbated by the fact that my syntax is highly complicated 'cause I immigrated from the single greatest little place in the Caribbean: Dominican Republic! I love it!”
“Oh? How did you end-”
“Jesus, I’m jealous of it, and beyond that ever since my folks passed on, I haven’t gone back. Goddamn, I gotta get on that…”
Dorothea burst into a second round of laughter, leaving Ingrid in a confused wake.
I have no idea what she just did, but I have a feeling that those kids would be fangirling right now had they been here...
“Thanks for humoring me.” Dorothea replied, with a smile. “Though, to be clear, my life story is less In the Heights and more Hamilton - though hopefully with less colonialism.”
“Pardon?”
“You… aren’t much of a theatre buff, are you?”
“Not… really… I had to read some classic plays in High School Literature?”
“Oh, my darling Ingrid” - a bit early for the nicknames, but whatever - “that hardly counts as experiencing theatre. You should be able to feel the spit coming out of Hope Harcourt’s mouth!”
“Ew.”
“I’m kidding, at least in part. But do not worry! I can help you. I have a large collection of bootlegs - not as good as the real thing, of course, but efficient.”
“Bootlegs? I’m sorry; I don’t drink.”
“Musical bootlegs, darling. You know, from all the major sectors - Broadway, West End, Mittelfrank… Actually, Seoul has a surprisingly large up-and-coming theatre scene.”
“Oh. Um. So… Are you a performer?”
“I wish. I’m… a commentator? The Stafford and Waldorf of theatre, but young and hopefully more attractive.”
“Definitely more attractive…” Ingrid muttered, louder than they intended to be.
“Well thank you, my darling Ingrid. I actually just run a YouTube channel on all things theatre. It actually is what’s brought me here, you know. Professor Manuela found one of my videos and endorsed my attendance…”
“Oh! Well, that sounds exciting.”
“I think so. I’m just glad she found my line-by-line breakdown of Britten's A Midsummer Night's Dream and not my most popular video - a drunken rant about the movie adaptation of Cats filmed at 3AM in a McDonalds parking lot.”
Ingrid awkwardly laughed. They certainly understood why people would be charmed into watching Dorothea’s videos, even if they didn’t personally relate to the subject matter.
“And what about you? What’s brought you to GMU?”
Ingrid took a breath. This trip - and this school year - may not be so stressful after all.
…
Lysithea was not a child; thank you very much.
She was very prepared for this trip. She had packed her bag three times to be certain it contained everything she would need. She had to fight her parents tooth and nail for them to let her go to GMU - in spite of Hanneman being one of the best medical scholars she knew - and she was not going to let anything or anyone stop her from enjoying it.
She thought the university beanie she had on her head was tacky and overpriced - because it certainly was both of those things - but she knew it was an icon. It said “Hello, I am a proud member of the prestigious institution that is GMU. I am, among other things, not a child, in spite of my stature SO YOU CAN STOP TRYING TO BRING ME TO THE LOST CHILD SECTION OF THIS GODDAMN AIRPORT.”
Everything was going swimmingly, of course. Just as she planned it.
She had simply neglected to account for the weight of everything in her carry-on bag. That’s just a minor mistake. Anyone could have made it, really. So, as she got down on the on the airport floor to pick up her stuff that had fallen out of it, she wasn’t admitting defeat and she certainly didn’t need any help.
So, why is this woman standing over top of me.
“Yes? You can stop staring, you know.”
“Sorry! It’s just… Well, do you need any help?”
“I do not. I know I may not look right for it, but I am not a child, you know.”
“I’m… aware. You have the hat.”
Lysithea reached up to adjust her hat on its mention.
“Ah! So, that was effective. I’m glad.”
“Quite ‘effective,’” the redhead echoed back at her. “I mean, I’d know.” She span around, revealing her track jacket to have a “G-M-U Golden Deer” printed on its back. “We match!”
“Oh!” Lysithea replied, mildly annoyed that this moment of weakness would make her first impression with one of her students. “Well, it’s good to meet you. My name is Lysithea von Ordelia.”
“Leonie Pinelli. So, now that you know that I’m a student and not a mean adult… Can I help you?”
“Fine. But don’t judge me, okay?”
“I wouldn’t judge you!” Leonie said, kneeling down to begin to gather items from her efficiently overpacked carry-on. “Okay, I may be curious about the candy...”
“Shut. It.”
“I mean, like, Airheads? Seriously? You know you can do better in terms of taffy, right?”
“Airheads are delicious, terrible name notwithstanding.”
"Their name is perfect, as they're dumb. They don't even have good flavour variety."
"What, so do you like Lacky Taffy or something?"
"Laffy Taffy."
"I know what I said."
The two continued bantering like this for 5 more minutes.
Leonie was annoying and had terrible taste in candy - at least in comparison to Lysithea’s taste which was, like everything about her, objectively perfect.
However, as they continued to clean and mock-argue… Lysithea couldn’t help but notice she didn’t ask any questions about the many prescriptions that Lysithea had… nor did she ever feel like asking about how a 19-year-old already has dead white hair.
If everyone at GMU was as accommodating as she was… then maybe this year at school could be as perfect as she is.
…
Seteth stared at the incoming class list, dumbfounded.
“Flayn?”
“Yes, darling brother?”
“Who was responsible for making the class list this year?”
“Alois, I believe?”
Seteth gritted his teeth, trying to hold in an exasperated sigh.
“Is… everything alright, brother?”
Seteth took in a deep breath.
“Well, our ‘randomly assigned houses’ are clearly just assigned based on peoples’ places of birth. But otherwise everything is perfectly alright, yes!”
Flayn laughed, but Seteth didn't find it very funny.