Battlefields to Ball-gowns (A Bridgerton Fanfiction)

Chapter 24

Dearest Gentle Reader, 

While others have been putting all their efforts toward finding a suitable husband this social season, our beloved Queen has put her efforts towards the most anticipated event since last season... The Wedding of our very own reformed rake, Viscount Anthony Bridgerton, and our goddess-made mortal, Princess Artemis Black of Illyria. 

As the most sought-after invitation of the season, one can only hope themselves influential enough to garner a seat at the royal table. Be sure that I, Lady Whistledown, will tell all to those unfortunate enough not to attend.

Queen Charlotte is many brilliant things, but "chill" is not one of them. Each wedding decision felt like the end of the world. Artemis felt sick after tasting the 387th cake sample, she never thought she'd grow weary of cake and yet there she sat bloated and nauseous. 

Lady Bridgerton and Daphne had been helpful to an extent, but it was difficult to get in a word when Queen Charlotte had taken control of the event. 

Artemis would have been fine with a small, simple ceremony but evidently, that was unacceptable for a woman of her standing. Anthony had given the women complete autonomy over the wedding, which felt more like an escape tactic than a gift. 

Anthony had barely left her side the past few weeks, only really going to dodge wedding planning duties with his mother and the queen. At one point, she grew so frustrated with his constant shadowing that she 'accidentally' pushed him into a lake during one of the social events. (A/N: You know the scene) 

It was three days until the wedding and Artemis could not wait for it to be over and done with. 

She tried desperately not to let the taint of the last few months affect her but the nights were getting harder to endure. She used powder to conceal the dark circles forming under her eyes but there was only so much makeup and a cheeky smile could conceal. Her golden eyes looked haunted under the weight of war.

Apollo too had been on his best behaviour, trying not to flinch when someone approached him too quickly. Eloise had been following him around like a lost puppy, which he found some comfort in, but the scars on his soul still remained. 

The twins grieved their mother and brothers, but the nature of the rebellion was what truly destroyed them. They fought mercilessly, dirty. At one point a rebel had left the burnt corpse of an infant in Apollo's bed while he slept as a curse to the young new nation. Images of the atrocities haunted the royals even in England. 

The white of the wedding dress felt insultingly ironic as the French seamstress adjusted the length of the skirt. She didn't feel pure, the white of the silk felt more like a mask than a gown. 

But she smiled and she cracked jokes and she teased her friends. She played crochet with the Bridgertons and had tea with the queen like the world was still good. 

Even in her letters to Illyria, she wrote about how much better she was now that she was in England once more. She wrote into reality beautiful fictitious picture of parties and wedding planning, she told funny stories and boasted about pushing her fiance into a lake only to drool over his drenched form afterward. She praised Aphrodite for her new engagement and teased Ares about the new matchmaking plot. She could only pray that no one notices the slight tremor in her cursive or the smeared ink from jolting to attention at the smallest sounds. 

She was safe, she knew that. 

The rebels were dead and security had been tripled. She was safe and secure and the war was over to the rest of the world, so when would it fucking end in her head?!? 

She was frustrated at her inability to bounce back, frustrated that she felt so vulnerable, so human. Lady Whistledown called them gods made mortal so why did she feel so fucking weak. 

Artemis feared the wedding night most. 

Not the sex, no Artemis had been envisioning the different ways she would have Anthony since she first gazed into those pretty brown puppy dog eyes. Artemis feared the quiet afterward. Artemis feared that she would wake up screaming in the night and hurt him before she recognized where she was. She feared that he would find the knife she kept under her pillow or the axe in her side table. 

She feared that one day that gorgeous, lovely gentleman would look at her and see the monster she truly was. 

She feared the day he would fear her too. 

"I'm thinking diamonds over pearls, what do you think Artemis?" The Queen broke her from her thoughts, jarring her back to attention. 

"I think I'd prefer to breathe." Artemis shot back, the smirk once again forming on her lips. 

"Oh, hush! I will not have you dressed as a barbarian at my wedding-"

"I was unaware Anthony proposed to you as well Aunt Lottie-"

"Hush girl. You will where the diamonds. Now will you be wearing an Illyrian tiara or an English one?"

"I will be wearing my crown... an Illyrian crown as will Anthony when we are wed."

Violet looked up in confusion at this, "What do you mean, dearest? You will maintain your title of a princess as well as viscountess but Anthony is only a Viscount he does not wear a crown." 

Golden eyes met hers as Artemis realized she had not explained the Illyrian traditions to the Bridgertons. "Lady Bridgerton, Anthony may be a Viscount to England but to Illyria, he will be a Prince. In Illyria, it is the firstborn of each generation that inherits the crown. So if I were to have a child before Ares, my child would be second in line for the throne after him. My children might not be princes and princesses but Anthony will just in case we birth the heir first."

Their eyes grew wide at this bit of Illyrian lore. 

"B-but why have you not mentioned this sooner?" Violet asked. 

"It's usually never a problem, I mean the oldest normally get's married first and so automatically has a child. It was never going to be a problem, Hephaestus was due to have a child before his and his wife's death. That's why Athena is so desperate for Ares to marry."

"Why would they put such a foolish law in place?" Queen Charlotte gasped.

"The old Illyrians believed that it was the will of the gods. They believed that should the gods find a ruler unfit they would curse them with infertility and a true heir would be born of another line. It is a sacred practice of our gods and so it will be still. I pray that Ares has a child first but looking at the Bridgerton genes it seems unlikely..."

They grew eerily quiet as they contemplated what they were told. 

"Would you or Anthony have to leave England? Would Anthony have to abandon his position as viscount?"

"No to both. In the event we birth the heir, we would raise the child until they turned sixteen. Then they would be sent to Illyria to train and live under the ruling monarch. The Viscount title would pass to our second child. The best scenario would be we had a daughter first and then a son, because in England a daughter couldn't inherit the viscount title anyways, but in Illyria a woman could be the heir."

Violet looked like she was going to be sick. 

"...I probably should mention that to Anthony, huh?"

"YES!!!"