Archive of Our Own

“Oh, Dorte!” Marianne exclaimed as the large, brown horse made a disgruntled schnuff -like noise and sauntered off into the paddock. “We’re not finished here yet, darling, please-” 

“Don’t worry.” Bernie mumbled from beyond her canvas. “I’ve got enough of her done. I can extrapolate from there.”

After the war, and the knowledge of their relationship out in public, Bernie and Marianne began their courtship in earnest. Which, it turns out, was rather difficult, considering their homesteads were halfway across the continent from one another. Bernie had been kept busy by her new territory’s demands, but still had made the time to travel to the former Alliance territory and visit her romantic partner at least three times a year.
It had been three years since the war had ended, and each and every time Bernie visited Lord Edmund’s territory, she found herself staying an extra few days longer. It was harder and harder to be apart from Marianne; every time she saw her, Marianne was more beautiful, more vibrant, more… Marianne.

And thus, it became all the harder to have to leave.

Marianne hadn’t cut her hair for a long time, and she wore it unbound, a cerulean wave that trailed down to her waist. She was garbed in a long, deep green dress that fell to her ankle, with a silver necklace of the sign of the Goddess perched precariously between her breasts. Beautiful, entrancing, seductive - Marianne achieved all these qualities without even trying, and still, after so many years of courtship, it still made Bernie’s knees weak.

On the other hand, Bernie was dressed far more plainly; her straight hair, originally only styled that way under her father’s wishes, had honestly turned out to be far more easy to wear then her curly rat nest of a haircut. She was dressed in a dark blue buttoned shirt and a pair of black shortened trousers, as even in the half-chill of the Edmund territory, the feeling of the air on her arms and legs were too wonderful to resist.

Lord Edmund’s estate sat at the edge of a forest, with a vast paddock extending out from behind. Long blades of grass swayed in the gentle breeze, and every now and then Bernie would just stop and let the air run through her. The air was good in Edmund, and the Alliance as a whole, territory, much better then the more built-up Empire lands. A few other horses meandered about the paddock, each of them cared for by Marianne, though none so more than Dorte, who’d she raised from a foal.
Normally Dorte was obedient enough to pose for portraits, but the gentle beast probably sensed Marianne’s frustrations with her beloved, and thus was having none of Bernie’s business.

‘Why is everyone against me…’ Bernie thought sadly, trying to put her focus back to the painting.
“Shouldn’t be too much longer you’ll have to sit there.” Bernie told Marianne, peeking out from behind the canvas. Marianne gave her a curt nod, and Bernie felt her heart sink somewhere in the area of her bowels.

In lieu of being able to spend longer with her, Bernie had offered to paint Marianne - and her beloved horse, Dorte - a beautiful artwork as an apology. It’d been far too long since she’d painted, or even drawn Marianne… at least with the genuine article in front of her. If Marianne had seen any of her notebooks back home…
“Could you tilt your head a little bit to the right?” Bernie said, peeking her head around the canvas. Marianne followed her command, tilting it exactly the right way. “Beautiful.” Normally compliments like that got some blushy reaction out of her lover, but there was nothing . Bernie swallowed, wondering how she was going to fix the mistake she’d made last night.

'Shite.’ Bernie thought to herself, cleaning up a corner of her portrait. ‘ Shite, shite, shite!’
She spent a solid ten minutes wondering how to broach the topic that had dominated the previous night, when thankfully, Marianne took point in this particular expedition.

“...Do you really have to depart tomorrow?” Marianne finally said, breaking the icy silence that had been brewing since that morning. “You’ve barely arrived, after all.”

‘...Shite.’

It was a rare occurrence, but Bernie and Marianne had had a row last night. Not a particularly loud or vicious one, but for them, it might as well have been a shouting match. Bernie had gotten a missive from her lands, urgently requesting her return. She’d planned to stay another whole week, but it really was a matter she couldn’t ignore. She hadn’t even wanted to be lord of the Varley lands, but there was no one else.
Plus, all the times her father had told her she wasn’t fit to rule their lands… Well, she was a little bitter about that, Bernie would admit that.
Marianne hadn’t taken the need for an early departure well, and Bernie couldn’t blame her in the slightest. They were practically on opposite ends of the continent - taking weeks of travel to visit one another, and whilst they loved each other more than any words could say… Well, there were limits.
There was a fear brewing in Bernie’s heart. The fear that Marianne was getting too frustrated with their long-distance courtship; that, when it got too much, she’d decide to leave her. Years of a relationship, dashed away due to circumstances of nobility and bloody distance.
Bernie had had a hard life, full of fear and terror. But nothing scared her more than a life without Marianne in it.
And so, with that fear in her heart, Bernie had offered to make her a portrait of her and Dorte, an apology gift. She hadn’t called it an apology gift, but they both knew what it was. Marianne had murmured an agreement, and thus, much of the morning and early afternoon had been spent outside, near the paddock.

“I’m sorry, Mari.” Bernie murmured, hiding back behind her canvas. Even with her, she couldn’t escape her coping strategies under severe anxiety. “It’s just… being in charge of my lands is like this. There’s no one else to do it, and…”

“It’s fine, Bernadetta.” Her tone was cold, detached. Sad. Nervous? Bernie still struggled with discerning tone at times - especially when she thought people were angry at her. “...I’m sorry I got so angry at you. I was out of place.” Bernie screwed up her eyes, frustration building up inside her. Of course she was blaming herself, she always did this when they argued, as rare as it was.

“It’s not your fault, Mari! It’s just… everything.” Bernie sighed, frustrated she couldn’t voice her feelings better. “Part of it is just to get back at my father, but the rest is just… Ugh.”

“Bernadetta…” Marianne murmured, but Bernie wasn’t done.

“They actually believe in me, y’know? The villagers and serfs and all them. They genuinely like me as a lord, waaaay more than they ever liked my father. And even if it rips me in two… I can’t just walk away from that, Marianne.” She sniffed a little, wiping the corner of her eye with her sleeve. “Even though…”

“I know, Bernie-Bear.” Marianne sighed, looking up at the endless blue sky. “I’m so proud of everything you’ve accomplished, leading your household. You’re not the meek, subservient girl I met all those years ago, y’know.” She cracked a smile, the first in some time, and Bernie felt her stomach settle ever so slightly. “Well, perhaps you still are, a little bit.”

“Don’t call me Bernie-Bear.” Bernie grumbled from behind the canvas, smiling all the same. “I’m just stuck, y’know? I want to be there for my vassals and whatnot - be the lord my father never could be, never believed I could be. But…” Her painting slowed, the edges of her eyelids aching with already-spent tears. “But, I want to be here with you. I want to be with you more than just these scant weeks I can scrape by on. I wish I didn’t have to travel all this blasted way just to visit you!”
That was the crux of the matter. Marianne was always so far away, and her adopted father kept her busy enough that traveling across Fodlan wasn’t ever really in the cards.
“I don’t know what to do, Marianne. I just don’t know-”

“What if… you didn’t have to travel all this way anymore?” Marianne said softly. Bernie snorted.

“Even riding a Pegasus takes the better part of a week to get here.” Bernie told her, not looking up from her work. “Unless you’ve devised some new magic even the Church doesn’t know about, I’m not sure how-”

“What if we got married, properly, and I came to live with you in the Varley homestead?” Bernie could feel Marianne staring at her through her canvas, but her abrupt question took a few moments to sink in; she continued painting, slowing to a crawl, and then stopping all together like some war machine on its last legs. She stood there for nearly a full minute, brush in hand, almost touching the canvas, before she timidly poked her head from behind it.

“W…What, um, did you say, M-Marianne?” Bernie squeaked, feeling almost sure that her ears were playing tricks on her. Sure, they’d been courting each other for nearly half a decade now, but it wasn’t as if Marianne was just going to suddenly say-

“I said.” Marianne told her, her face pink like a peach, but her smile like the sun. “Perhaps we can forgo this long distance courtship. Perhaps… Perhaps we can get married, properly, and be together… always.”

Mentally, Bernie screamed in delight. The words she’d been trying to say for years - the absolute truth she’d simply been too scared to admit all this time - had come from Marianne. Marianne wanted to marry her. Marianne wanted to marry her! In the span of seconds, her brain composed a thousand love poems, a thousand jeering curses to her (thankfully) deceased father, and a thousand commands for her to actually respond to Marianne !
“Bernadetta?” Marianne murmured. “Helloooo? Bernie, you there?”

She didn’t mean to, but Bernie just dropped her paintbrush to the ground, whirling around the canvas to throw herself into Marianne’s arms. The taller woman let out a delighted gasp as Bernie hit too hard, toppling the two of them backwards and into the thick grass of Edmund’s paddock. Bernie didn’t even feel the fall - just Marianne’s arms, embracing her.

“Bernie!” Marianne giggled as her now-fiance buried her face in her neck, warm tears already trickling down Bernie’s cheeks. “Oh, Bernie…”

“O-Of course I accept!” Bernie sobbed into Marianne’s neck. “Of course of course of course!” And then she couldn’t get any more words out, her silent sobs becoming soft, passionate cries of emotion. 

“O-Oh, Bernadetta…!” Now it was Marianne’s turn to collapse under the weight of such wondrous feelings, and they lay in the swaying grass for sometime. Laughing and sobbing and everything between.
“Fiance…” Marianne murmured, and the word was lyrical to Bernie’s ears.

“That’s me, I guess!” Bernie said, like a dumbass.

“As if it’d ever be anyone else!” Marianne giggled, wrapping her arms around Bernie’s neck and pulling her into a deep, romantic kiss. The world around them disappeared for a few moments; to Bernie, there was just the two of them in an endless, beautiful void. Breaking the kiss, Marianne fluttered her wet eyelashes and beamed a smile akin to the sun itself.

“I love you, Bernadetta von Varley.” She whispered, kissing the meek girl’s nose. Bernie made an odd, girlish noise, somewhere between a giggle and a stammer.

“And I love you too, Marianne von Edmund. Always and always.” Life was worth living, actually, Bernie decided. All that fear and anxiety she’d harbored in her heart just minutes ago… it was all gone. Just like that.

Marriage was an amazing creation, Bernie additionally decided.

“Did you guess I was going to propose?” Marianne asked. Bernie shook her head vigorously, accidentally batting Marianne with some of her hair in the process. 

“Not a clue!” Bernie replied. “I… It was honestly the last thing on my mind.”

“Really?” Marianne said with genuine surprise. “I’d been planning to do it ever since you left last, I just… didn’t expect to leave so early, or that we had our argument last night.”

“O-Oh.” Bernie had never been a violent woman, but for once, she genuinely wished whoever had written her that missive the previous day would go into a long, deep sleep as she stepped on their toes. Hard. “You really been planning that long?”

“I’ve been planning ever since the war ended.” Marianne replied, smiling that dazzling smile again.

“But I-I was so scared you wanted to leave me!” Bernie sobbed, deep, shuddering sobs that wracked her to her core as her anxieties poured out. “I was so sure you were done with me, that I wasn’t worth the bother…”

“Oh you silly little…” Marianne sighed, holding her close. “No matter what happened, I wouldn’t leave you. You know that I wouldn’t.”

“I-I know, but… still…” Bernie let out a loud sniff, trying to make the most determined face she could. “I’ve never met anyone else like you, Marianne! Someone who likes books and art and just… enjoying your own company. I don’t think I could’ve ever been with anyone else other than you!”

“And still, you were worried I was going to end our relationship?”

“...My brain hates me, Marianne. You know this.”

“But I don’t. You helped me believe I had worth, Bernadetta.” Marianne whispered, holding her so tightly Bernie felt a mild spike of pain lance down her spine. “How could I not wish to spend forever with the one I cherish?” Bernie felt like the sheer emotion was melting her; she was about to say something, anything in response to her love’s sweet sentiment… when a wave of hot, smelly air fell over them, and then Dorte was there, nuzzling Bernie’s head hard .

“Gah!” Bernie squealed, gripping Marianne in surprise.

“Yes, yes, I cherish you too, Dorte!” Marianne giggled, trying to swat away Dorte’s attempts to chew her hair. “Don’t worry, Bernadetta, she’s just jealous…” Bernie cracked a glance at Dorte, and she swore she could see the horse glaring warningly at her. 

“I-I’m sure.”
After a few more harmless swats, the horse made another schnuff and wandered back off, perhaps in search of treats. 

For a few minutes, the two young women lay in the grass, just content to be in each other’s presence, the high of the impromptu proposal emanating through them like nothing else.

“I’m dreaming, aren’t I?” Bernie finally said, looking up at the sky. “This is all a wondrous dream, and I’m going to wake up back at the Academy, all alone, and there’s going to be-”

“Let’s just nip this little anxiety train in the bud, hm?” Marianne giggled, leaning up to kiss her new fiance. Bernie’s mild panic immediately dissapitated,

“I… I don’t have a ring, I just realized.” Marianne said. Her voice had such a sense of airheadedness that Bernie almost laughed.

“Don’t look at me!” Bernie told her when Marianne’s gaze turned back to her. “I wasn’t the one planning an on-the-spot proposal!”

“Honestly, I knew I’d have to be the one to ask.” Marianne giggled. “I love you, but I know you’re tearing yourself apart, wanting to propose but being too scared to actually do it.” Bernie laughed nervously, trying, and failing, to show that that was not the case. It absolutely was, with Bernie experiencing at least a dozen sleepless nights, wondering how, and when, she’d be able to propose to Marianne.

“T-That’s silly…” Bernie told her. “A-Anyway, just the idea of having you in my home… that’s so exciting!”

“We’ll have to discuss it with Father, obviously, but…” Her smile widened. “Mayhaps you won’t need to return to Varley lands alone this time.” Bernie’s heart did a somersault, one almost as large as the proposal itself. Her trips home from Marianne’s lands were always the worst, most heartbreaking days, with many nights curled up in her tent, sobbing quietly into her pillow.

“And… I suppose, if you’ll still be in charge of your lands… I could always be the one who handles the face-to-face diplomacy, all the talks and whatnot?” Bernie must’ve been making a face, because as soon as Marianne looked at her next, she let out a distressed giggle. “B-Bernie! What is it?”

“I-I’m sorry.” Bernie murmured, blushing from embarrassment. “It’s just… that’s maybe the most attractive thing you’ve ever said in your life.”

“I’m… I’m not sure if that’s a complement or not.”

“From me, I think that should speak for itself.”

“I… I suppose so.”

“Hey, Marianne?” Bernie said, after a long, peaceful silence.

“Mm?”

“I love you.” She told her, leaning down to kiss her. It was only meant to be a light kiss, to underline her words, but Marianne was having none of that. Even as Bernie tried to pull away, Marianne’s fingers interlaced with her hair, pulling her back into the kiss. She gasped into Marianne’s mouth as her fiance’s hands snuck up the back of shirt, stroking, lightly scratching at her smooth, soft skin. Blindly, Bernie’s hand went south, hiking up the skirt of Marianne’s dress, greedily seeking calf, knee, thigh, hip. She felt Marianne shiver beneath her, her touches and kisses growing more energized. Bernie knew what was coming, the inevitable arousal that was inherent to Marianne’s unique biology. That wonderful, wonderful lust . She was so soft , so warm, so…

‘Good goddess.’ Bernie thought, sudden realization crashing upon her brain. ‘I get to be with her forever.’ Y’know, the basic concept of marriage.

Going for breath, Bernie broke the kiss, but Marianne wasn’t done. She craned her neck to plant kiss after kiss on Bernie’s neck, her barely-contained excitement practically crackling to life.

“This… This is a good day, I think.” Bernie sighed, stretching her neck out for Marianne to find more purchase.

“Father won’t be home for another few hours…” Marianne murmured between neck kisses. “We could… um, retire for a time, come back to painting later?” Bernie could feel Marianne’s warmth through her dress, the kind of warmth that only sprouted in particular… Let's say, passionate moments. Somewhat awkwardly, she slid her hand out of Marianne’s dress, heart thumping at the chance to see all of her new fiance on this wondrous day.

“S-Sure.” Bernie said, her voice wobbling from anticipation. Years together, and she still got jittery when true intimacy was on the table. Less to do with the intimacy, and more to do with Marianne’s… unique form of intimacy. Bernie got to her feet, ready to move towards the manse, but she barely got two steps before her fiance pounced.
In an instant, Marianne was on her feet and without warning swept Bernie into her arms, holding her as if she was no heavier than a few sacks of grain. Bernie let out a squeal of mixed terror and delight, arms flailing as she got used to the unfamiliar sensation. “M-Mari?!” Marianne giggled a bit, holding her flush against her chest.

“Accepting my Crest’s nature comes with its own boons, I suppose.” She lent forward a bit to kiss her still flailing fiance in her arms. “I’ve wanted to do this for a long time!” She giggled as she spun Bernie in a circle, eliciting more laughs and screams in equal measure.

“M-Mari, I’m, I’m getting dizzy, Marianne!” Bernie gasped

“I’ll be with you, always.” Marianne whispered, pulling her close to kiss her again. “For the rest of my life.”

And Bernie knew nothing, in the history of Fodlan, had ever been truer.