Stolen by the Rebel King
Chapter 115: Perfect Fit

Chapter 115: Perfect Fit

There it was.

Even with her original betrothal to Prince Nathaniel, there was never a formal proposal. After that, she was kidnapped and abruptly married off against her will to a king she had never met before her wedding day. Now that days and weeks and months had passed by since she had first met Atticus, everything felt surreal.

For a girl that grew up surrounded by the lack of love, Daphne had craved it. Love was something she could only see but never grasp hold of for herself. She had watched it come and go in many forms for the people around her― familial, romantic, platonic.

Yet, Daphne never had it. Even her first friendships were made after arriving at Vramid.

Now that Atticus, her husband, was done on one knee, formally asking her to be his wife, Daphne was at a loss for words.

"We’re already married!" she blurted out, not knowing what else to say.

Atticus and Daphne’s gaze stayed locked together for a few seconds before the king eventually burst out into laughter. That only caused the apples of Daphne’s cheeks to burn until they resembled two tomatoes plastered over her skin.

"We are," Atticus agreed. "But I have never asked for your hand in marriage. Even our vows weren’t exactly genuine."

Daphne recalled the strangely euphoric, out-of-body sensations she had gone through during the exchange of vows at their wedding ceremony. Her eyes narrowed as she pointed at Atticus’s nose, annoyed.

"Ah ha! So you finally admit that you used magic to make me say ’I do’!"

Atticus merely shrugged dramatically, the corners of his lips tilted down into a deep frown.

"Were you going to say yes otherwise?"

"No, of course not!" Daphne cried out. "We just met! Not to mention, you kidnapped me while I was on the way to my actual wedding. Didn’t you remember your men flinging me to the floor? That hurt! What’s more, your reputation precedes you, the cruel king of the North. If only you knew of the names they called you outside Vramid’s borders!"

Atticus’s expression lost a lot of its jest, returning to a stoic — albeit a little scared — look.

"What about now?" he asked. "Do you still care about my reputation? Of the names that they call me outside Vramid?"

"I..." Daphne stuttered. When she saw the fear that swirled within the golden pools of Atticus’s irises, all of the hesitance previously in her body melted away. "No. I don’t care for it. Because you, too, don’t care for the nasty names they call me. Why would I believe the words of strangers instead of my own husband?"

"In that case, will you say yes this time?" Atticus continued with his questions. "If no magic was used and you can freely decide whether you’re to wed me, would you say ’I do’ on your own accord?"

The question stumped Daphne. Partly, it was because she knew that even if she rejected his proposal, nothing would change.

Atticus surely had kidnapped her to be his wife for more than mere lust. Daphne knew she wasn’t the most beautiful bachelorette in the world― there were plenty of more eligible women, especially when back then, Atticus hadn’t known yet that she was capable of magic.

Thus, their union must be able to bring him certain amounts of benefits beyond romance. He hadn’t forced himself on her either, so it surely wasn’t the temptation of the flesh that drew him to her.

In that case, would her answer matter? He wouldn’t let her go either way.

Regardless, the longer Daphne held Atticus’s gaze, the clearer the answer echoed in her heart. She hadn’t been sure previously but now that everything was set before her eyes, after all the ups and downs that they had been through in the few short months they’d known each other, Daphne knew that she could no longer lie to herself.

She liked Atticus.

Was it love? She wasn’t sure. It was too soon to tell.

However, she was utterly infatuated with him. Every little perk and flaw had turned endearing in her eyes. He had stuck with her through all the low points, saved her life, and stood unwaveringly by her side even when the rest of the world’s leaders had dished out unpleasant things to her face.

Atticus Heinvres had perfectly kept to his vows. Through thick and thin, in sickness and in health, he had stayed by her side. Now that he was on one knee, giving her the ring that she was owed and the proposal she never realized how badly she wanted, a smile crept onto her face.

"Yes," she said. Her voice was soft but it was enough for Atticus to catch it with how closely they were positioned next to one another.

He blinked once, then twice, all in slow motion as if he couldn’t believe his ears.

"Pardon?"

"You silly man."

Leaning forward, Daphne placed a chaste kiss on the tip of Atticus’s nose. When she pulled back, she was a little surprised to see that Atticus’s usually pale face had turned as red as a beetroot, his eyes widened like saucers as he stared speechlessly at her.

"I said yes," Daphne reiterated. "Yes, I’ll marry you. Again. You said so yourself, right? That I’ll be your queen, now and forevermore."

Joy erupted on Atticus’s face like fireworks, dancing across every curve of his lips and every crinkle of his eyes. The light that flitted through his irises made it seem like he was a star himself, glittering in glorious light.

He slipped the precious ring onto Daphne’s previously-empty ring finger― it was a perfect fit, almost as though it was meant to be hers. Once it was secured, he lifted her up by her waist, twirling her around in the air as she squealed in surprise.

At that moment, everything seemed perfect. Daphne had never wanted it to end. Even when her feet finally returned to the ground and her head was woozy having been spun around so many times, she still felt giddy with joy rather than nausea.

Her hands gripped Atticus’s strong arms, refusing to let go even though she was firmly planted to the ground. Likewise, Atticus’s fingers merely tightened around her petite waist for he couldn’t bear to tear them away.

It was only when a memory snapped in place did Daphne jolt a little. She stared at the ring on her finger, then at her husband, then at the ring again, repeating the motions a few more times.

At last, she said, "Goodness gracious me, I’m going to get robbed soon, aren’t I?"

A ghost of a smile snaked onto Atticus’s lips. "Why so, sunshine?"

She held up her hand, putting her new ring on full display. It glittered under the lights, casting rainbows around them. She suddenly felt a surge of energy flow through her body, so strong she felt she could fly.

Perhaps this was joy― exuberant joy that was so powerful her body couldn’t contain it.

"I can’t believe you were the one that spent a million gold coins on this small thing! I still thought the person who spent this much must have been an utter madman!"

The king merely laughed, his eyes sparkling with joy.

"Who says I’m not?"

Atticus knew deep down, he was mad for his wife. A type of lunacy others might describe as love, but Atticus assumed it was a very intense liking.

"A million gold coins is a small price to pay to make my wife happy."