Battlefields to Ball-gowns (A Bridgerton Fanfiction)

Chapter 22

The thick bloodied air stained Artemis' every breath as she dragged herself up from the mud. The leather armor clung to her sweaty body as she attempted to stand once more on shaky, exhausted legs. 

Blood clung to her tanned skin and sweat dripped into her eyes as she finally stood tall once more. Her golden eyes surveyed the land around them, the fog-covered field littered with their dead countrymen. The Noble House of Black stood victorious once more but at what cost?

The rebellion had been more extensive than they first imagined. 

Hephestus and his wife were dead. 

Their mother and unborn brother were dead. 

Their youngest brother Hermes was dead. 

Their father was dying from a wound sustained in battle. Not the wound itself but the infection that took hold afterward from the poison-coated blade. 

Relations with England had not yet been solidified. 

The beautiful wedding ring hung on a leather string around the princess' neck, protected under her armor. She had only been able to write to Anthony once since leaving the shores of England but she did receive a stack of letters every few weeks that she had yet to read. 

It felt as though the war raged on forever simply to keep them from reuniting even in the written word. 

Artemis spotted Apollo through the misty morning. He looked as exhausted as she felt. He caught her eye, stumbling towards her through the mud as respectfully of the dead as possible. 

"The south is ours once more, sister. Athena has sent a messenger that Malkov is dead. Our family is avenged."

Ivar Malkov had been the mind behind the rebellion. He was the distant nephew of the previous king and felt entitled to the throne.

His entitlement had cost hundreds of lives including their mother and brothers. She was glad he was dead. Her father, even in his waning health had been the one to perform the execution according to Athena. 

"We will go back soon, sister... soon." English felt strange on Apollo's tongue, feeling more foreign than it did months ago. His heart also called out for the Bridgeton across the sea. He too had only been able to write Eloise once, though it was short and crudely written. He had almost forgotten what the English characters looked like after writing a hundred condolence letters to Illyrian families in the Illyrian scripts. 

He had to cross out a few words and try again, almost forgetting his English entirely in the stress of war. 

Only their rage and thirst for revenge kept the twins from falling apart completely. 

"Soon." She agreed looking to the horizon as if she could see the ton from where she stood.

Anthony was not handling the distance well. He hadn't been so long without a woman's touch since he was a boy. 

He was spoken for, a match of both love and phenomenal standing. He would remain loyal to Princess Artemis Black, alone, but that did not make the distance easier. 

So he drank and fulfilled his duties as Viscount. 

His mother pestered him. Continually asking if he was alright, if there was anything they could do, if he had received any word. 

He had not. 

He had received a single letter a month and a half ago. It was only one page and held a dried flower she had taken from the battlefield. The words themselves were not groundbreaking but the letter meant she was alive. 

A month and a half ago, his fiance was alive and well. He held onto that thought, reading the letter daily as if it would grant him some clue about her current health. 

His heart had broken for her when he heard what happened. 

Three brothers, a sister-in-law, and their mother were all dead by malicious men who craved power beyond their reach. He had lived in terror for months having not received a single word. He comforted himself saying that no news was better than bad news but there seemed to be no end in sight. 

Anthony nursed his whiskey as he made his way toward the dinner table. His mother once again looked at him with worry, a look he had grown far too accustomed to. 

He remembered how his mother had reacted to his father's death. How she cried that the very air she breathed was agony without his father. She was inconsolable, completely shattered for years. 

Anthony wondered if he would be the same. 

If he too would know the hell of existence should she fall in battle. If he too would despise every moment of living if it meant not being at her side. 

He saw her golden eyes in every shining surface. He heard her mischievous laugh in the silence of the night as he lay in bed unable to sleep. Terror gripped his heart every moment she was away and he didn't know how much longer he could endure. 

The family chatter sounded far away to him as he mindlessly picked at the food on his plate. A new social season was beginning in a week's time, and Eloise would be presented to society much to her chagrin. Eloise was well aware that her heart already belonged to someone, a fact that was mercilessly teased about by their brothers.

No one dared tease Anthony about Artemis.

He was broken from his tipsy stupor as the butler entered the room in disarray. He seemed entirely out of breath and flushed as she tried to calm himself. 

"A-a letter for Lord Bridgerton from Illyria!"

It felt as if the air was sucked from the room. Everyone was suddenly on their feet as Anthony charged the man, ripping the letter from his grasp. 

He wasted no time, unceremoniously ripping through Artemis' personal seal. The room fell into a tense silence as they watch Anthony read the paper. 

My Dearest Anthony, 

Though I know my correspondence had been abhorrent, you must forgive me, for not all of us can laze about looking pretty as you do. I do hope you hold no anger to my lack of response towards your obsessive writing. Oh and tell Daphne that I am appalled that her first child was not named Artemis. I am aware that she had a son, but my name is far too wonderful to adhere to trivial gender constructs. It even fits the alphabetical thing you Bridgertons obsess over. Truly my heart is broken over the lack of respect, now I must wait until she either reaches F for Freya or makes her way all the way back around to A. 

I write to you from the battlefield. The air is stained with the blood of my countrymen, their life's essence clings to my very skin, and yet it is the ring hanging at my heart that occupies my mind. Even now as I should be making my way to the capital I can not help but feel pulled to the west, back to England, back to you. 

But as I write this I know it will not be long before I see you once more. The country is ours, the rebellion is squashed underfoot, and my family is avenged. I am sure by the time this letter arrives in your hands it will not be long before I too follow. 

All my love

A.F.B.

The smile on his face startled the other Bridgertons as they waited with bated breath for him to finish reading. 

He looked at them, tears filling his joyous eyes, "THEY WON!"