Chapter Text
I don't own fire emblem.
Bernadetta looked about.
She was not usually one to cook. That was something that was best left up to the maids or the chefs. But with Edelgard sick at the moment, she was going to need to step up and do her part. Which meant making soup for her.
“I can do this.” she thought and peeked out from her door. The cafeteria should be empty for the moment, Raphael and Caspar having already eaten their latest round of snacks. Hopefully. "Here goes nothing."
Exiting her room, the archer made a full-on dash for her destination. It's not even going anywhere. If it is, then you'll need to tell at the person who moved it. Yes, some of the people in Corrin's army have no right to be cooking. But that doesn't mean you need to move the canteen every time Effie is going for fourths. Not that it was helped by that fucking dragon thing getting nearly all the food. Why can't we send her to ba-
According to my wife, she was what powered that strange realm. That's uh… good to know. Wait. That just begs even more questions. Were we just eating parts of her the entire time we were in that strange town? Please tell me that isn't the case.
Back with Bernadetta, she was just reaching the cafeteria. Whole place was a ghost town, not counting the staff of course.
"How may I help you, Miss Varley?" one of the old ladies inquired, getting a head shake in return.
"I think I got this." Bernadetta answered, phone coming out. If her memory was serving her correctly, she should have a recipe saved. Sliding right across her Edelgard-themed background (something the archer would need to thank Hubert for), the picture appeared before her. Along with a notification.
Wish dad ‘happy birthday’
The color exited Bernadetta's face. Of course something as bad as this needed to happen. It just couldn't be her girlfriend getting sick. No, she needed to call her father and get absolutely destroyed by him. Because of course he didn't have anything nice to say about her, her relationship with Edelgard and women in general. Taking a seat at one of the tables, she began dialing.
One ring. That’s perfectly normal. I can’t think of any times when someone has picked up first ring. Guess you would need a real fancy phone for that.
Two rings. Maybe he’s just busy. There’s all sorts of reasons that he hadn’t picked up. Right? Maybe Count Varley is engaging in activities that clearly go against one of his maid’s sexual identity. Okay. I wouldn’t be surprised if he had done that just before taking this. Guy sounds like a complete and utter shit bag of a human being.
Three rings. This better be fucking good. Especially after having to dictate down all those nightmares and shit. Seriously, I’m surprised he hasn’t gone further. Like seriously, hunt her down and make her his. Though, that would probably get him smashed into a million pieces by the various armies
"Hello garbage." the voice on the other end muttered, the sound of a slap following. Oh dear. This isn’t going to be one of those nice phone calls is it. Actually, that was probably asking too much.
“Happy birthday, dad.” Bernadetta muttered, flipping the phone off in the process. “Are you hap-
“It you were actually a good fucking girl, you would find yourself a proper man and tell that odelgard lady that she should shut her stupid fucking mouth and be a good goddess-following baby-spewi-”
Slipping her phone into its pocket, the archer made her way over to the pantry. Pulling out some chicken (it was sitting on a magical ice cube, so totally sanitary), celery and some carrots. Can’t forget about the large cast-iron pot. Filling it up, she carefully set it on the stove.
“Father, you’re nothing but a barbaric incubus in human clothing.” our archer continued, somehow getting her point through her father’s continued ranting. He’s one of those people, isn’t he? Absolutely toxic and unwilling to let go of the fact that a person could be a homosexual. Let alone their own daughter. Garon threw a fit when he heard Camilla came out and announced her engagement to both her retainers. Even got the blessing of Selena's mom (somehow) along with Selena herself (but that's a story for another time). Though, there was something hilarious about seeing Beruka in a wedding gown. Oops. I got off-topic. For the moment, Bernadetta looks to be searching for a knife. Pulling a drawer open, an aggressive bluebird flew on out. Uh… okay. Not sure who the fuck stuffs a bird into a drawer. That's animal cruelty!
“Sorry about that.” one of the old ladies remarked, handing the archer a knife from the drawer. “One of the golden deer has a habit of taking knives and leaving them all bloodied. The bird has been the only way we’ve been able to keep her in check.”
Bernadetta nodded and set the chicken on the conveniently placed chopping block. She had seen plenty of cooking TV shows showing chefs breaking down such a bird. Though, her plan involved at least the parts not used for the soup for other stuff that the kitchen staff might want to do. Things that I can’t quite think of at the moment. Maybe chicken strips? Dang. That sounds amazing at the moment.
“You’re still listening, dear?” Count Varley screeched, his daughter trying her best to not stab the phone with the large knife.
“Of course…” Bernadetta muttered, frustration out in full force at the moment. There was nothing that she could say at the moment that would less the stream she was forced to endure.
Not wanting to give her girlfriend food poisoning, she set the now cut poultry in a pan and set that on the stove as well. Then it was time to chop the rest of our ingredients. “Maids, he’s yours.”
I don’t think they heard you. If they did, not entirely sure what they could do about that particular order. Dress him as slutty as possible, maybe even make sure that he no longer can quite... what’s the word? Oh yeah. Reproduce. An awfully lofty goal that will probably take some time.
Dumping the cut veggies into the pot, the chicken followed right after.
“Here goes nothing.”
Stirring it about, Bernadetta realized that she had forgotten the most important ingredient of all - an actual stock.
“Crap.” the archer thought, her father still ranting. Pulling her phone back out and swiping right, she looked at the photo one more point. “She forgot the stock as well.”
Heading back to the pantry, Bernadetta grabbed some pepper. That might help.
“Fag Fag Fag. Every decision you make is shit and so are you, pussy eater.”
He’s still fucking going? Like seriously, dude. Calm down. It’s hard enough having to listen to this shit and commentate, could you at least keep it PG. I know you can’t hear me, but I can’t keep this up forever.
Yet, Bernadetta threw the pepper in and gave it one more stir. Carefully, she ladled some into two bowls. Her father still hadn’t shut his stupid shitty gob. Because why the fuck would he?
“Thank you for letting me use the kitchen.” she explained, getting a nod from the old lady as she exited the kitchen by drone. Guess she remembered that this whole fast travel network was a thing. Oops? But when you’re constantly assaulted by a man who’s idea of a ‘marriage’ has refused to change with the times it’s easy to get caught up in that mess. “Edelgard! I brought you some soup!”
The door opened up, revealing a slightly better Edelgard for the moment. That cold still looked to have got her though. Which is never good.
“Thank you, Bernadetta.” Edelgard explained and let her girlfriend in. Setting the bowls down on the bed (not the best place), a hug followed. “Let me guess, your dad is still talking to you?”
Bernadetta nodded, digging her phone back out. Handing it over to the house leader, the mumble of something followed. Then…
“If you keep talking like that to your daughter, I’ll make sure you have no budget.” Edelgard threatened, hanging up right after. “Now, let’s eat.”
.
A maid heads for the door, knife in hand.
An order was an order. No matter if the mouth it had come from was god knows how many miles away.
“Oh. It’s y-”
Contrary to what cats in online stories tell you, some secret moves are a lot harder than they make it look. But no matter. The deed was done.