Chapter Text
“...Hm.”
Bernadetta von Varley pauses as she pulls up her shorts. The morning sun slips through the gaps in the blinds behind her.
“Hm?”
Edelgard von Hresvelg looks up from her desk, watching her girlfriend in the mirror.
“I was just thinking,” Bernie says.
“Oh?” She finishes putting her earring in. “What about?”
“...I think this is the first time I’ve worn shorts in public.”
Edelgard laughs. “You’re kidding. Ever?”
“Nonono, not ever,” she corrects. “But... I think it’s been about four years.”
“Really?” Edelgard finishes with her other earring, and comes to sit on the foot of the bed. “Why?”
Bernie continues getting dressed as she talks. “Well, I mean... I’ve worn them with leggings underneath, I guess. But not just shorts.” She rummages through her shirt drawer, thumbing through an extensive and historic collection of graphic tees. “And, I think the main thing was”—she settles on a simple grey tee, with dark purple sleeves and collar—“I just really didn’t like my legs.”
“Ah.” El looks down, then back up at her face. “For what it’s worth, I quite like them.”
She blushes, and quickly tries to hide it under the shirt. “Oh, um, thanks...? A-anyway, yeah, I really didn’t like my legs, and so I would only ever wear jeans. Or skirts, after I came out, sometimes. But even then, I... I dunno, I just never liked ‘em.”
“So what’s got you choosing to wear them now?”
“I think”—she pulls the shirt over her head—“I’m not sure. But I think something has just kinda... changed?”
Edelgard cocks her head to the side. “Something about your legs? A side effect of estrogen? Or is it-”
“No, I think it’s-”
“-something about-”
“m-...myself, yeah,” Bernie says, at the same time as her. “I mean, maybe it’s the estrogen, who knows. But I feel like lately, they’ve kinda just been feeling... more right, I guess.”
El smiles. “‘Right’... That’s good to hear.”
“Yeah. I just...” Bernie sits back, and folds her hands in her lap, looking down at her legs as if studying them. “I feel like... for the longest time, I sort of always hated them, but I never really... knew why? Even after I started shaving them. So I just never wore shorts ever.”
“I understand.”
“I just think that... actually, never mind, I'm kinda going on a rant here. I'll stop.”
“On the contrary, Bernadetta,” Edelgard says, “I would love to hear more.” She adjusts her posture to make herself comfortable.
“Oh, um... okay? I just don’t wanna... well, if you’re sure.” Bernie shrugs. “I’ve just been feeling more... at home, kinda? Lately? I guess...? I don’t really know how to put it.”
“How so?”
She takes a moment to think. “It’s like... most of my life, I was so upset that I had this body, and- and I hated it, and I only ever wanted to be somebody else, but lately I’ve been more... comfortable with it, I think?” She brings a hand to her chin for thinking support. “Like I’m... like, this”—she gestures vaguely at herself—“is actually me. And I don’t need to be somebody else.”
Edelgard nods. “That’s very nice. I’m happy you feel that way.”
“Yeah.” Bernie smiles. “Also, it’s warm, and I shaved yesterday, so... might as well, I thought.”
“They look good on you. You should wear them more often.”
She blushes again. “You think so?”
“I do.”
“Well... um... thanks.”
She looks up at Edelgard for a moment. Incomparable, radiant, powerful Edelgard, the woman who seemed to have it all - the woman who had forged her way through the impassable thicket and come out the other side shining like the sun - the woman who had seen the glory of her own brighter future and fought to make it a reality - the woman who had for so long stood for everything Bernie ever wanted for herself - currently sitting at the foot of her bed, telling her compliments, listening to her little talks, giving her words of encouragement, as the rising sun casts a gentle glow onto the left side of her face, and she... she's wonderful.
...But now is not the time to admire her wonderful girlfriend. Bernie still has places to be. She can do plenty of admiring later. It’s focus time, so she's gonna focus on herself, and not on how hot her girlfriend is, or how much she loves her, or any of that stuff. For now. Mostly. Probably.
“Um- I... uh... what were we talking about?”
Edelgard giggles, and Bernie tries not to think about how cute it is. “Your shorts, Bernadetta.”
“Oh! Right!” She quickly stands up and finishes adjusting her clothes, spinning around to face herself in the long mirror on the wall. She fetches a belt from her dresser and pulls it tight around her waist, then checks herself out in the mirror, turning left and right to check her profile and every possible angle of herself.
To her girlfriend’s credit, she does think herself a little cute.
“I’m just a little worried,” Bernie continues after a minute. “I... don’t wanna be clocked. Does it show?”
El smiles. “You’re fine, Bernadetta. Don’t preoccupy yourself with that.” She stands up from the bed, and comes to put a hand on Bernie’s waist. Her touch is light, but Bernie can feel her strength. “Just wear the clothes you want to wear.”
“I mean, yeah, but... it still sucks.”
“I know. But trust me,” she muses, “if anyone starts to stare at your crotch like that, then they’ll be the ones getting clocked.” She punches the air with her free hand, and whispers a pow.
Bernie laughs. It’s a hearty, genuine laugh, one Edelgard considers herself lucky to hear. She grabs her girlfriend’s waist a little tighter.
“That’s good, El. Did you just come up with that?”
“In truth...” she admits, “no. I thought of it a handful of moons ago.”
Bernie turns and smiles at her. The morning sun is at Edelgard's back now, lighting up the fringes of her hair like a halo, like the crown around a solar eclipse.
“Well, I’m glad it finally had its time to shine.”