Stolen by the Rebel King

35  My Husband

"You're awake!"

A flood of emotions suddenly overwhelmed Daphne at the sound of Atticus's voice. She wasn't quite too sure why either, but knew only that there was a tinge of relief that seeped through her veins, followed by utter joy, and lastly, immense guilt. When everything hit Daphne all at once, the waterworks erupted.

There was just something about that cocky, smooth-as-butter voice that Atticus had. To think that just a while ago, it was everything that infuriated Daphne.

To think she could have never heard his voice again.

"You're awake…"

Daphne's shoulders began to uncontrollably tremble. It shook up and down as her breathing got more haggard, choking on her tears as the small sobs loudened into a cry.

"Sunshine, what's wrong?"

The grip on her wrist loosened and she was quickly pulled into a warm embrace. She still couldn't stop, knowing fully well that her snot and tears were probably already stained on Atticus's clothing.

How unladylike, her parents would've scolded her for her lack of decorum if they caught sight of her crying. Princesses were meant to cry demurely and silently, not bawl like hungry infants.

Nonetheless, Daphne couldn't even be arsed to care. Atticus was alive. She hadn't accidentally killed him. While Daphne wasn't sure why, she wouldn't have been able to forgive herself if the last conversation they had was a fight.

This man, as rude and callous as he could be, had managed to worm his way into her heart like a parasite.

A large hand gently pressed against the back of Daphne's head, slowly smoothening her curls. Atticus was patient, not saying a word as Daphne cried her heart out. Instead, he sat there quietly with her in his arms, calming her down as a good husband would.

Like a good <nulli>lover would.

When Daphne finally calmed down, she was the first to pull away. Her eyes were red and puffy, her nose most likely equally so, and she was still sniffling like crazy to force her nose to stop running.

"Look at you," Atticus murmured softly, humor in his voice. His thumb gently ran across the skin under Daphne's eye, wiping away the leftover tears. "If people don't know better, they'll think I'm bullying you. But I'm actually the injured one. Why are you the one crying?"

Daphne managed a huff. "Well, forgive me for caring."

Atticus knew his wife meant for her words to be sarcastic and snide, but tears and snot made it seem more petulant and cute to him.

Daphne's voice came out in a warble. "Next time you end up injured, I'll throw a parade for you instead."

Atticus cooed at her while patting her cheek, and she scowled in response, swatting his hand away.

"Don't cry over me, sweetheart. As you can see, I'm perfectly fine." Atticus tried to sit up straighter, only for Daphne to shove him back down with surprising force, looming over him with a watchful eye.

Her long hair brushed the sides of his face. So close, Atticus inhaled her sweet scent.

"No, you're not." Daphne sniffled as she stared down at Atticus. "I told you the wine was poisoned. But no… you didn't want to listen to me! Stupid man!"

"Ah. Poisoned. Right. You are right and I was wrong," Atticus said, nodding easily. Sirona had claimed he was poisoned. Atticus reminded himself to get her something nicer for her birthday. That woman finally did one thing right.

"Viscount Attonson will pay for his actions," Daphne declared, sitting back down on her chair.

She wiped the last of her tears away, and now there was a light in her eyes that promised retribution. The very sight took Atticus's breath away.

Daphne then took his hand in hers and squeezed. "I'll make sure he never receives an invite in polite society again. He cannot get away with poisoning my husband. You could have died! The nerve of that man… death is too good for him."

While his heart warmed at the knowledge that Daphne had finally acknowledged him as her husband and was ready to fight for his sake, he remembered that he was technically lying.

Atticus didn't care enough about Viscount Attonson's reputation, but he didn't want Daphne to cause trouble for herself because she wanted to defend his honor.

"It's fine, you don't need to do anything." Atticus smiled winningly and tried to look extremely unharmed. He flexed an arm muscle, trying to portray the very image of vitality.

Daphne looked remarkably unimpressed, even if he caught her glancing at his arm muscles from the corner of her eyes.

"As you can see, I'm feeling a lot better. Especially since I woke up next to a beautiful woman crying over me."

His wife wanted to defend his honor! The very thought made him giddy with joy. But he didn't want Daphne anywhere near Eugene Attonson and his slimy ways.

"Don't change the subject!" Daphne's face reddened as she registered his words. "You can't mean to let him go like that! He tried to kill you!"

"Many people have tried to kill me. None have succeeded. If I retaliated against every single person, I wouldn't have a kingdom to run." Atticus shrugged. Daphne was less than impressed with his blasé attitude, and it showed on her face. "Besides, he did something good for me."

"What is it?"

Atticus then looked at her so warmly that made Daphne feel as though she had spent too long sitting by a fire.

"He made you accept me as your husband. What's a little bit of poison compared to it? If anything, I'm the one that owes him a debt."

"Nonsense!" Daphne protested, her cheeks now flaming red. "I didn't― What on earth― Don't put words in my mouth!"

"You said it yourself."

"No, I didn't." Daphne instinctively disagreed, shaking her head. Atticus looked at her smugly and raised their clasped hands. Daphne squeaked.

"Less than a minute ago, you said 'he cannot get away with poisoning my husband'. I am now your husband. I heard it loud and clear, sunshine."

The look in his eyes was longing, fiery, and so passionate that Daphne wanted to worm away and hide. It kick-started a fuzzy feeling in her chest that she wasn't sure was right to feel.

"There are no take-backs here in my kingdom."