Disclaimer: I don't own them. (Dammit!)

A/N: Random fic with Beatrix and Freya set when the group was saving Garnet from Alexandria.

Balanced on the balls of her feet, like a lethal ballerina, she eyed the enemy, her hair hiding her blue eyes, fierce with concentration. The beast roared with a bravado that was quickly hushed. In the blink of an eye, the warrior in red jumped high in the air and then descended, her spear impaling the monster as she landed and hopped back. She turned to Beatrix, a slight smile on her face, yet still serious, her body tense.

Freya's presence bewildered Beatrix. The other woman was no match for her--yet--but she had never seen someone fight so beautifully, so dutifully, so selflessly. Selfless enough to fight by her side-- she, cold hearted Beatrix whose troups marched through Burmecia and not long after crushed Cleyra. She, who crowed at this woman who fell under her sword.

She had destroyed Freya's kingdom, massacred her people, and called her pathetic.

Beatrix frowned. She realized that all along she was the pathetic one.

"I don't deserve your assistance." Beatrix drew her sword and sent a black mage crumbling to the ground in one strike.

A pause. A slash. Blood.

Freya raised her shoulders up defensively, perhaps to hide her face more than the hat was hiding it already. "You're right," she said simply. Beatrix was caught off guard by her bluntness, expecting the usual "don't worry about it."

"Why are you trying to save the kingdom that tried to destroy you? Why--"

Freya huffed smugly, but her words were empathetic and honest. "No one deserves to see their home go to ruin."

Beatrix didn't deny this knowledge. If anyone knew this well, Freya did.