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“Bernadetta? Are you being alright? I was approaching you from your non dominant side without warning and you are not having any reacting,” Petra asked as she slid into the chair next to Bernadetta, concern written plainly across her features.
Bernadetta was curled up in a chair on the far end of the war room table from the door, looking paler and even more disheveled than usual, her eyes sunken and completely unfocused. She barely acknowledged Petra’s words, only blinking a few times before tilting her head forward into her knees and letting out a despondent whimper.
Petra stood up immediately and declared, “I believe Bernadetta is being broken!”
The declaration is met with frowns and worried looks from the rest of the Black Eagles Strike Force as they all took in the state of their friend from whatever distance they were at. The last thing Bernadetta needed was for them to all crowd her when she was feeling distressed. They had all gotten pretty good at keeping an eye on her without drawing attention to it. Another weak little whimper came from Bernadetta’s hunched form in the quiet that followed.
A silent conversation began to play out. Ferdinand got to his feet, puffing out his chest as he took a step toward Bernadetta. In tandem, Dorothea’s hand stopped him at the chest while Edelgard’s hand pushed him back down into his chair, neither of them needing to tear their worried eyes away from Bernie to do it. Edelgard then shot Hubert a look over Ferdinand’s head. Hubert nodded and slipped out the door. Dorothea shared a glance with Edelgard before starting to make her way around the table toward Bernadetta slowly.
Lindhart let out a heavy sigh and laid his head down on the table, keeping one sleepy eye open and trained on Bernadetta. Caspar frowned deeply as he casually leaned half his weight on Lindhart’s back.
“I bet the Professor would know what to do,” Caspar mused out loud.
Lindhart moved his body out from under Caspar just enough for Caspar to slip and slam his elbow into the table. “Well, they will be here soon enough,” he muttered over the sound of Caspar swearing.
On the other side of the table, Dorothea crouched down next to Bernadetta on the same side that Petra was on so as not to surround her.
“Bern, did something happen? Can you tell us what’s wrong?” Dorothea asked gently.
“Please be informing us of the problem so we may help,” Petra added.
Bernie let out a high pitched whine, some of her usual spirit jolting back into her body. “He just won’t let it go… don’t know what I’m going to do… I’ll never be able to go anywhere again… my life is over,” she began to mutter erratically, her hands picking at the chair arms so hard it quickly started to damage her fingernails.
Dorothea shared a worried look with Petra before slowly snaking a hand out to stop Bernie’s fidgeting. Her fingers slipped around Bernie’s wrist and pulled gently to separate her nails from the wood. Bernie jumped, yanking her hands away and curling them against her chest, moving her fidgeting to the strings of her hoodie.
“Aaa! I-I-I,” Bernadetta screamed, her eyes suddenly focused and flicking between Dorothea and Petra.
“Bern, it’s okay, you’re safe, we wouldn’t let anything happen to you. Right, Petra?” Dorothea reassured.
“Never. Harm will never be coming to you as long as I breathe. Please be allowing us to assist you in your trouble,” Petra said.
“No, no, no, I can’t! Edelgard would never do it! She would execute me just for asking!” Bernadetta insisted.
At the sound of her name, Edelgard glanced over. “For asking what?” She said with a furrowed brow.
“Aaa! Edelgard!” Bernie screamed again, like she hadn’t realized Edelgard was standing right across the room from her. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Please don’t hurt me! I told him you wouldn’t even consider it, but he wouldn’t let it go!”
“Bernadetta, who is asking you to request things of me?” Edelgard asked, frowning. It was certainly a disconcerting thought that her close confidants could be harassed and even convinced to influence her on the behalf of a third party.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Please don’t hurt me! I wasn’t going to ask, I promise I wasn’t, really!” Bernie continued to babble in lieu of explaining.
“Bernadetta, I am not mad at you. How could I be? I don’t even know what you were going to ask of me.”
Bernadetta squeaked and cowered more into herself at the implication that Edelgard would be mad once she knew.
Dorothea shot Edelgard a look telling her to stop while she was behind. Edelgard opened her mouth to argue her case, but was interrupted by the Professor walking into the war room. They stopped two steps in, looking around at the strange, but not entirely uncommon tableau displayed out in front of them.
“What happened?” The Professor asked, eyes lingering on Bernadetta as they surveyed the scene with the same sharp look they used to evaluate the battlefield.
“We don’t know. Bern, hasn’t had a chance to tell us yet,” Dorothea said, her eyes sad as she watched Bernadetta curl more into herself, like she was trying to hide but couldn’t get her body to move from the chair.
The Professor gave a thoughtful hum and slowly made their way around the table. They motioned for Dorothea and Petra to step back as they drew closer to Bernadetta. They crouched down next to Bernie, who was still muttering to herself and completely shredding her hoodie strings in her hands.
The Professor tapped lightly on the table in front of Bernie, where her eyes were directed but unfocused. It was enough to jolt her attention up to see them.
“P-Professor?” Bernadetta gasped out.
“Hi, Bernie. Can you breathe with me? Just like we practiced?” The Professor said, commanding attention the same way they did when giving orders despite the soft tone of their voice.
Bernadetta let out a small whine before she nodded, her brow furrowing as she concentrated on matching the unsettlingly steady rise and fall of her teacher’s chest. The rest of the Black Eagles remained silent as Bernadetta slowly got her breathing under control. Just as it was beginning to even out, Hubert slipped back into the room holding a piece of paper.
Edelgard perked up at the sight of him. “Hubert, did you…?”
“Yes. It appears that Bernadetta has received a threat from her father, one that explicitly states his intentions to out Bernadetta to the whole of the imperial army if she does not convince Lady Edelgard to proffer him preferential treatment,” Hubert announced to the room.
Bernadetta squeaked, “Y-y-you broke into my room?!”
“Don’t be ridiculous. There was no need for that. I receive copies of all incoming correspondence for review to be prepared for situations exactly like this,” Hubert explained. “I’ll admit I wasn’t caught up on your letters as they did not seem likely to pose a danger, but it appears I was mistaken in underestimating the distasteful behavior of your blood relations.”
“This is unacceptable and must be corrected,” Edelgard declared, her eyes dark after the revelation.
“Eep!” Bernie yelped, cowering away from Edelgard’s cold expression even as it was directed nowhere near her.
Edelgard softened just a little. “Bernadetta, I assure you that you hold no responsibility in your father’s actions and no harm will come to you from me or him. I will not allow it.”
“Yeah! We can’t let him get away with this!” Caspar chimed in, raising his fists.
“Truly despicable behavior for a noble,” Ferdinand said, shaking his head. “What do you think our best course of action would be in this situation, Professor?”
The Professor held up a hand to quiet them from where they were still crouched next to Bernadetta. Once there was quiet, they turned their attention back to her.
“Bernie, why don’t you go back to your room and get some rest,” The Professor suggested gently.
Bernadetta’s eyes welled up with tears and she nodded, finally able to unfold herself from the chair and scamper out of the war room to the quiet safety of her dorm.
The Professor straightened up to watch Bernadetta leave. They waited a beat after the door closed behind her before saying, “I believe that we should kill Bernadetta’s father.”
“Woah, Professor?” Caspar exclaimed, rearing back in surprise.
“That does seem a bit extreme, even for such an egregious violation of a noble’s duty,” Ferdinand added, glancing at Edelgard, only to find her clearly considering the idea.
“Are you sure?” Dorothea asked, her voice heavy, like she wished there was another way but was resigned to the fact that there probably wasn’t.
The Professor nodded. “The Varley residence is likely to hold records of Bernadetta’s birth that would not be best handled by just any imperial soldier. And seeing as we are the few lucky enough to already be privy to this information, I say we are the best equipped for the job. Disposing of Count Varley and his records will simply be faster than capturing him and transporting him to the capital. He is likely to cause a scene if taken alive.”
“As usual, your analysis is impeccable, Professor. I agree this will be the best course of action, and will require the least amount of our army’s resources. The Black Eagles Strike Force will mobilize at the end of the week,” Edelgard declared with a decisive nod. Her approval seemed to shift the atmosphere of the room.
“Yeaah! Count Varley won’t know what hit him!” Caspar exclaimed.
Lindhart yawned. “Oh well, at least this will be a quick mission. I doubt the Count will put up much of a fight.”
“Yes, especially if we are moving with swiftness and surprise,” Petra added.
The Professor nodded once more before moving on to the other topics of that day’s meeting.
Bernadetta was humming to herself as she started a new embroidery project in her room. She only startled a little when a gentle knock sounded on her door.
“W-who is it?” She called out shakily.
“Professor.” Came muffled through the door.
Bernadetta’s shoulders relaxed immediately. “Oh! One sec,” she called back, putting down her materials and moving to open the door.
“Hello, Bernie,” The Professor said as they came into view.
“Hi, Professor, it’s not time for training already, is it?” Bernadetta asked with a nervous laugh.
The Professor shook their head and held up an envelope. “A letter came for you.”
Bernie felt her blood run cold. “O-oh. Um, thanks,” she said, reluctantly reaching out to take the letter with an unsteady hand.
“It’s good news,” The Professor reassured.
It was out of place enough that Bernadetta’s brow furrowed, but she just went to open the letter instead of questioning it. She murmured the words under her breath as she read them, “Dear Lady Bernadetta, we write to inform you that you are now the… head of House Varley? Due to the passing of your father?!”
Bernadetta’s head snapped up from the letter, eyes as big as dinner plates. “Professor?!? Did you kill my dad?! Oh my god, my dad is dead! My dad is…” Bernadetta suddenly froze, the panic slowly draining from her face, replaced with a fragile hope as the reality of what this meant set in. “My dad is gone? He can’t…” she whispered.
“He can’t hurt you anymore, Bernie,” The Professor confirmed.
Bernadetta stood there, stunned, for a long moment. “I-I… thank you, Professor,” she said, eyes shining with tears.
“Everybody helped,” The Professor said, their normally blank expression softening a little. “And Hubert went ahead and forged new documentation of your birth to replace the ones that were ‘lost’ in the accident.”
“That’s— oh, wow,” Bernadetta said, breathlessly. Impulsively, she lunged forward and wrapped her arms around the Professor, burying her face into their shoulder to hide her face.
“Are you alright?” The Professor asked, giving Bernie a few comforting pats.
“Mhm!” She hummed, high pitched and watery and bookended by sniffles.
“We have the ingredients to make your favorite today in the kitchen, if you would like to assist me in preparing it?” The Professor offered after a moment.
Bernadetta pulled back from the hug, wiping her eyes and nodding, a tentative but genuine smile on her face.