Battlefields to Ball-gowns (A Bridgerton Fanfiction)

Chapter 6

Artemis rolled to the side, expertly dodging the slash of Apollo's sword. With a smooth shift of his, weight Apollo attacked again only to be blocked with a loud clang.

The familiar pain in her palms from the vibrations of colliding blades brought Artemis' battle instincts into focus. Every small shift of her brother's muscles helped predict his next movements as sweat dripped heavily down both of them. 

The suitors for the day had finally left and Artemis was itching to release some tension. What better way to relieve stress than to beat the shit out of one's brother. 

They had been sparing for nearly two hours none stop. First at hand to hand and then moving on to weapons. The swords were dulled so as to minimize injury but bruises still littered the two royals as they circled each other. 

With one quick movement, Artemis caught Apollo's blade with the hilt of her sword. Twisting harshly the sword flew from Apollo's grasp and he was successfully disarmed.

Loud clapping was heard from the balcony and they turned to find Eloise Bridgerton, along with a short, stout girl with red hair and an obnoxiously yellow dress. 

"That was brilliant!" Eloise roared in excitement. 

The other girl tried not to blush at the two royals' appearances. They were dressed in Illyrian leathers. Apollo was shirtless and covered in sweat while Artemis wore tight-fitted pants and a leather binding that kept her breasts hidden and in place.

"Eloise! What do we owe the pleasure?" Artemis called out, still completely out of breath. 

"Daphne sent me to ask if you were coming to Vauxhall tonight. Is that what Illyrians wear to fight?" Eloise shouted back.

The twins made their way up the stairs to the terrace where the girls stood, grabbing their towels to wipe the sweat from their faces. 

"Ya. I'll be there. And to answer your question, this is only training attire. Our fighting leathers cover our entire body. You see over there, the enormous brute throwing an ax at a target? He is in traditional fighting leathers. He says he likes to train in them because he doesn't want to get thrown off in a real fight... Ignore him, he's such an elitist," Artemis gestured towards Ares. 

"I can hear you, brat!" Ares called out, turning to scowl at his sister. 

"Then come speak to our guests you brute!" Apollo called out before turning his attention to the mystery friend of Eloise. 

"And who might this enchanting creature be?" Apollo smirked kissing the girl's knuckles. 

The girl's face turned as red as her hair as she tried to form words. With a roll of her eyes, Eloise answered for her, "This is my best friend, Penelope Featherington."

"Ah... Penelope Featherington... You shine bright as the sun and your hair is like autumn fire, my heart burns in your luminous presence, my lady." Apollo whispered the words like a sensual prayer. Before the poor girl fainted from how flustered she was, Ares grabbed Apollo by the neck, shoving him towards the door to the house.

"Quit flirting and get some work done. I need you to approve the training regiment father sent over for the new troupes." Ares's deep, heavily accented voice spat. 

"I'm going, I'm going. I shall await our next encounter, my ladies!" He called out before entering the house.

"Forgive him, he's a prat," Ares growled, turning back to the ladies. 

Artemis smirked as she caught a slight blush across Eloise's ears. "Do women really fight in Illyria?" Penelope asked. 

Ares gave a curt nod, "Of course they do... England diminishes their variety by excluding women from its battlefields. Artemis, Athena, and I are in charge of the Valkerie legions, the all-female special forces."

"They fight better than most men. Ares should know, a few of them kicked his ass." Artemis teased.

But one thing Ares could never be flustered by was strength. With another broody nod he responded," Yes, they were very quick and smart enough to use my strength against me. They were eager to learn and succeeded. I will never be embarrassed to be surpassed by my students Artemis." 

Eloise and Penelope both looked wide-eyed at the surprisingly humble, stoic man. 

"Oh don't look at him so fondly. He may view everybody equally, but being an indiscriminate asshole doesn't make you any less an asshole. Ouch!-" A quick smack to the back of Artemis' head and Ares was walking back down the stairs towards the target again. 

"W-what was his name? He didn't say." Eloise asked as he watched Ares throw an ax directly into the center of the target. 

"That is my brother Ares Black, the second prince of Illyria," Artemis answered, sharing a knowing look with Penelope. 

"Unless you wish to continue to gawk at my brother, I am going to bath for this evening. Tell Daphne I shall see her tonight." Artemis entered the house without a farewell leaving a giggling Featherington and a blushing Bridgerton.

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Artemis' feet were killing her. She would rather run twenty miles in her Illyrian boots than dance for twenty minutes in the English torture devices called heels. 

Many men wanted to dance with the princess, but she was able to fake a sore ankle and stand to the side. 

"I didn't think they'd ever let you stop." She heard a voice beside her. She turned to find Anthony sipping at a glass of champagne. 

"Yes, escaping the dancefloor was rather reminiscent of a child escaping its cradle. I too felt like crying. Especially when dancing with that one, I do believe he broke at least one of my toes." She joked causing Anthony to laugh. 

"I can't chastise the man, I myself am a dreadful dancer," Anthony said as he examined the princess's sharp yet delicate features.

"English dancing is much different than Illyrian dancing," Artemis told him as she watched couples dance. 

"How so?"

"Illyrian dancing is far more provocative and representational. Like two souls joining, in sensual movement. I'm sure an English gentleman such as yourself would faint from seeing such a display." 

Anthony didn't respond. A quietness fell over them as Anthony tried to control the fire burning within him as his mind wandered to a mental image of the princess performing sensual and provocative movements. 

The hair on his arms stood up straight under his suit jacket and he flexed his sweating hands trying to shake the inappropriate thoughts from his mind. 

He was a gentleman, that much was true. But Anthony knew he would most certainly not faint at such a display, he would have a completely different reaction in mind. 

"Since you are here, I am assuming Daphne is as well?"

"Yes... She is rather displeased with me at the moment. I just finished talking to her before approaching you." Anthony admitted. 

"And what could the righteous viscount have possibly done to distress the diamond so?" Artemis teased, not at all expecting his answer. 

"I arranged a marriage for her with Lord Berbrooke." 

An icy horror took over her face as her head snapped to Anthony, replaying his words in her mind. A cold furry turned her gold eyes molten as she glared at the man, who was completely taken back by her reaction. 

"You have damned your sister to live with the scum of nobility? You would do well to fix your error and talk to your sister before I step in... I am going to find my friend... You stay here, and fucking rot." Artemis hissed lowly so none would over hear, before turning on her heels and going to find Daphne.

A shell-shocked Anthony was left standing alone, staring after the vulgar princess. Trying to understand what he did wrong.