Beatrix Drabble Collection

by imperialvirtue

Set during Autumn 379YE

Home
An icy early Winter breeze off the hills was rattling the shutters, creeping through cracks in the stones and Beatrix shivered and pulled the covers around herself more tightly. Garravaine’s fingers, resting softly on her side as always when they shared a bed, moved in an unspoken question. He had still not lost the almost constant concern for her wellbeing again. Placing her fingers over his reassuringly, she smiled against her cushion.

“It is nothing, my dear heart.” 

And almost inaudible even for his Changeling ears, she added, “Just… For a moment, it almost felt like I was back home.” 

What do you mean I can’t?
“You cannot go to Anvil. You’ve just recovered enough to get up, for Virtue’s sake. The journey alone would make you relapse.” Beatrix looked at the young physick standing her ground in front of her, arms crossed, legs apart as if facing a glorious foe and all she could do was not growl in rage. “I’ll have a word with my fiancé about that…”

Eleanor shook her head. “The lord agrees. In fact, he’s told me earlier he’ll stay with you. So, will you listen to me for once?” Beatrix sighed. Anvil, it seemed, would have to survive without her. 

Dawnish manners – Double Drabble
Beatrix entered the tavern, shaking the hood back from her hair, and around her, conversation faltered.

“Mylady…” The innkeeper came towards her with hasty steps. Beatrix rolled her eyes. “Still only by name, still a Leaguer.” She handed him a couple of coins. “Get me some ale, please. And no further fuss.”

“Yes, M…” She shut him up with a scowl before heading to the back of the tavern where a couple of soldiers were gathered around a game of dice. One of them looked up as she pulled up a chair. “I really don’t envy you.”

“I do not envy myself either. Never try to get married to a Dawnish, I tell you.”

The other woman laughed. “That’s why I’ve never gone Dawnish, love.”

Beatrix rested her head in her hands for a moment. “Probably wise.” Then, she untied a small pouch from her belt. “I got a small shipment in from my gardens. I will do you four Marrowort for three crowns if you throw in a favour.”

“Depends on the favour.”

“The generals’ orders came with the courier. I reckon you are not going to be bored much longer. So, what I would like you to do…”

Change
The scent of fresh cut grass spicy on her tongue, and the shouts of yeofolk at the last days of harvest like a song, or like a play by a troupe well versed in their craft. Garravaine’s arm strong and firm around her shoulders, holding her close, “you must not be cold, my dear heart,” the velvet of his doublet soft against her cheek, honeyed lemons on her mind. She closed her eyes as she rested against him, letting her mind drift into silence and in these quiet moments, Beatrix did not miss her beloved Holberg all that much. 

Blue velvet
Beatrix could not remember when she had first chosen blue velvet for a gown – or had it been some sleeves? – but over the years, the soft rustle when she walked and the structure against her skin had become as much a part of her as the bloodstains under her fingernails. The quality had increased over the years, but still…

With a sigh, Beatrix ran her hand over the cool silk. Good quality. Not Holberg made, and Beatrix thought of Leonora before setting the cloth down and nodding at the merchant. “A good choice. I expect the garment in two weeks.”

Talking to the Mirror
“I am not born for peace. I am not born for idleness, for rest. I do not know how to enjoy these things without feeling like there is work to be done and there is always, always work to be done. He is quick to indicate that this is the reason I am forced to rest now, as if I did not know. But I am not in this life to be at peace.” Beatrix put the mirror down with a sigh. Yet as she looked out the window, she saw Garravaine return and she could not help but smile.