A/N: Thank you for the reviews on chapter 9. Ol' Gregg makes me giggle :) So this installment makes me feel full of squee and happiness. It's kind of fluffy, but what can you do, besides enjoy it? As usual, Sailor Moon and characters were not created by me.
"It wasn't terrible. There have certainly been worse functions in the past."
"Ah," replied Jadeite. "Well, I am glad it was not terrible for you."
"Well, I'm not going to get all excited over a silly ball," said Nike. She felt bad about hurting Jadeite's feelings, and so she covered it by being defensive. "It's all about uncomfortable dresses, and complicated dances, and having to appear as though you're enjoying yourself."
Nike noticed that, while she had continued walking as she spoke, Jadeite had stooped beneath a tree next to the path.
"What are you doing?" she demanded. "I said you could walk me back to my rooms, but if you're going to dawdle…" she trailed off as Jadeite straightened and held out a violet flower the same color as Nike's gown. Nike could feel the heat creeping into her cheeks and along her hairline; no one had ever given her a flower before.
"What am I supposed to do with this?" she stammered, flustered by the gesture. "I am a Martian princess, you know. When my father courted my mother, he gave her a sword and challenged her to a duel. You don't give Martian women flowers."
Jadeite stooped again without a word. Nike crossed her arms and sighed.
"You shouldn't waste your time ferreting about for flowers," she said. "I won't be impressed by another little-" A stick suddenly came flying at her, and she only just caught it before it struck her face.
"Lady Nike, since I desire to appeal to your sensibilities as a Martian princess…I challenge you to a duel." Jadeite had a stick of his own, and assumed his stance, brandishing the twig as though it were a grand rapier.
"You're not serious."
"Oh, I am most serious. Probably the most serious I've ever been. I warn you though, I am a great swordsman, one of the best in Oranos' court."
"Then you will have many lessons to share with your fellows when I am done with you," Nike said, kicking off her heeled shoes and gathering her skirt out of the way of her feet. "Ready, sir?"
They engaged, their sticks cracking loudly in the still night air as they dueled in the gentle starlight. Nike did her best to outmaneuver the Terran king, but she discovered that his footwork was just as good as hers.
She laughed breathlessly as she thrust what she thought would be a winning strike. Jadeite easily parried it, and returned with a near-hit.
Men and women should sword fight at balls, thought Nike as she danced over the path. After all, it was just as complicated and intricate as dancing, but infinitely more fun.
After a few moments, Nike found it; Jadeite did a poor job of guarding his left, and that was where she land the winning blow. She moved forward with a triumphant yell, which was cut off in surprise when her foot landed not on ground, but on silk. Tangled in the hem of her gown, Nike tumbled to the ground.
She stared up at Jadeite mutely, who stared back in surprise.
"A draw, then," Jadeite said finally, reaching down to help Nike up. When she looked into his face, she saw that his mouth was working furiously to hide what was no doubt a smile.
"You're laughing at me!" she cried after he pulled her to her feet.
"I am not!" he protested, though Nike could hear it just under his voice. Nike turned around to pick her abandoned shoes off of the ground.
"Go ahead," she said begrudgingly over her shoulder. Jadeite burst into laughter and, with her back turned, Nike allowed herself a small smile as well. While Jadeite was enjoying her moment of humiliation, she gently set her shoes back down and picked up her dueling stick. Let him laugh while she landed the winning strike, just to show that it was never in one's interest to laugh at a Martian princess.
With a great battle cry, she whirled around and lunged toward the king. There was a flash of gray livery and a loud crack that startled Nike. Her stick had been broken in two by Jadeite's defensive maneuver. She looked helplessly at the splintered end in her hand and then back to Jadeite.
"Well, then, I guess all Terrans aren't soft after all," Nike said, trying to cover yet another embarrassing moment with her perfected brand of Martian arrogance. She carelessly threw her broken weapon away and resumed walking down the path after retrieving her shoes. "Are twig battles quite common on Earth?"
"We prefer more sophisticated weaponry," Jadeite replied. "Do Martians never concede when they have lost?"
"Never," Nike said, flashing him a brilliant grin. "You understand my people very well."
"I really think I do," Jadeite said lightly, grasping his wrists behind his back as he walked. "Yes, I understand you must be the embodiment of your race; a perfect blend of arrogance and ill-manners."
"Ill-manners?" Nike demanded, her cheeks turning pink at the insult.
"I believed it to be of universal dueling etiquette that the winner be granted a concession from the losing party. Yet, you offer me no such compensation for my victory. That is poor manners."
"And what sort of concession do you require, sir?" Nike demanded. She regretted it, once she saw the sly look in Jadeite's eyes.
"Only a kiss, Princess Nike."
Nike stopped dead in her tracks, sputtering. This placed her in quite the dilemma; to refuse would be to prove to Jadeite that she was ill-mannered and poorly versed in dueling etiquette (an insinuation which made her pride bristle). However, if she were to kiss him…well, he would get the wrong idea about her and her intentions…and what if she liked it? Judging by the devious look in his dark blue eyes, Jadeite was very much aware of Nike's predicament.
"Of course," Jadeite said, stopping in front of her and leaning forward, "you don't have to. Only the pride of your people in you and your royal family will suffer, not to mention your own reputation as a warrior. People will probably think you are barbarians who don't even know how to hold a proper duel and pretty soon they won't be calling you a warrior princess, but a-"
Jadeite's monologue was cut off as Nike seized him by the collar of his jacket and pressed her lips to his, to stop his words, to prove that her reputation as a Martian warrior was well-earned and…a teensy part of her wanted to see what it would feel like.
She released him after a moment, feeling breathless and not so sure of what she had just done. Jadeite looked as confused as Nike felt. They stood in silence for a moment; Nike stared fixedly at the ground, very aware that Jadeite's hand was resting lightly on her waist.
"We ought to go," she said abruptly. "I have meditation in the morning." Jadeite agreed and they set off again down the path. While nothing more was said, and no more stick duels were held, when Jadeite reached for Nike's hand, she didn't pull away, not for the rest of the walk back.