#knowledgeableblade

Drawpile session with @venomousovereignty / @tailoringtay / @knowledgeableblade / @silverymusings / @danthekickingman who wanted to be tagged with all blogs~

with my own muses @rcsetorn / @royaldeceit / @windmcge 

◈ ╼ ༺ :|     Old Nonverbal Meme || @knowledgeableblade    |: ༻ ╼ ◈  

╼ ༺ :||          If there was anything more damning than this.  Losing everything, her queen, her kingdom, the oath she had sworn to uphold...  The sight of Edith, the woman that tried diligently to guide her stubborn path, was the final crack in her painstakingly crafted mask.  Praised was the strength of the Rose of May, but where was the pride when such loss labeled her so great a failure.

     “Edith... Forgiv-”  Beatrix shook her head, wincing from the pain brewing within her breaking heart.  Freya’s words in the moment she had first met truth had come back in full force, reminding it was far too late for apologies, for any meaningful condolences.  There had been nothing uplifting about those words, and the bitter hiss the Burmecian had spat weighed heavier and heavier till they, the cries of many Alexandrians, and Garnet’s sorrowful weeping over her mother’s corpse chiseled away at the ice encasing her once hardened heart.

     Was she actually fit to be Alexandria’s general anymore?  Was she ever?

     Her mentor’s arms enveloped her shaking frame.  The single gesture triggered a pitiful, choked sob of a broken woman that’d held back for so long it was a miracle she had even lasted this long without so much as a flinch of outward remorse.  Beatrix was a leader.  She was to be a light of hope, and yet...  She was alone.

     “I’m sorry...” she murmured into her elder’s shoulder.  

     I’m sorry Burmecia... Cleyra...  Lindblum... 

     I’m sorry Alexandria.

     I’m sorry Your Majesties.

╼ ༺ :||          Caught mid sip, Beatrix hadn’t anticipated her old mentor freely making declarations.  A breath’s hitch inducing a flustered fit of coughs, waving away concern others may have directed in her direction.  Ruined grace from a silly complement she’d heard daily from others... although it not so ludicrous coming from Edith.

     Acknowledgement ever sought, appreciation for the dedication and loyalty, the mastery       even during a time when a simple soldier was learning the ways of military life.  Praise never fell on deaf ears whilst among the most esteemed royal, and the right words were were always on her tongue readying gratitude.  Enduring days and nights of Edith’s strict regimen and successfully overcoming every obstacle her mentor placed before her had not even earned those special words.  And now Beatrix fought back the bubbling pride swelling within her chest.  

Another sip hiding a muddled reply behind the need to clear her throat until finally she could smile, a faint redness still flush against her cheek.  There was much to say, but all she could muster immediately in the growing number of eyes was simple.  

Just a smol little headcanon until I can delve more into it and whatnot, but thanks to her mentor, Edith, Beatrix was forced to train more with hand to hand combat should she ever be disarmed or find herself without a sword.