"I'm sorry."
That was the only thing he was able to say to her. He promised he'd win. He promised he'd win for Sabertooth. He promised he'd win for her. Yet he broke that promise.
Standing on that balcony on Crocus Garden roof, Minerva kept her eyes shut and refused to say anything. Disbelief. That's what she felt.
Disbelief. Betrayal. Anger.
She could have just banished him from Sabertooth. After all, the weak don't belong here. Go crawl to that worthless guild of fairies, she thought. They'll give you more sympathy than I ever will.
She could have whined on and on blubbering about how he broke his promises over and over. But that is the work of a child. Minerva was no child. She was a ruthless queen, one that will cast aside weaklings as quickly as they come. But this was Sting.
The first time she saw him, begging to join the strongest guild in Fiore, Minerva knew he was different. Different. Not special, that sounds like a good perspective. Not strange, that sounds too far off. Different. That was all she thought. Nothing more. Nothing less. As his true strength started to show, her description of him changed. It was no longer the word "different". It was the word "promising".
Promising. 9 letters put together, a horrible word to be used in this situation.
Finally, she managed to speak.
"I hate you."