"C-Consummate?!" Daphne all but squeaked, her voice cracking in disbelief as she echoed the word she just heard― the only word she heard.

"Is that so hard to digest, my beloved wife?" Atticus questioned, the corner of his lips raised in a slight curl. "Isn't that something that every average, ordinary couple would do?"

He leaned forward, bending down slightly so that they could meet eye to eye. Daphne leaned back as far as she could. If she hadn't, their lips would've met again.

A small part of Daphne wasn't too against it. After all, King Atticus was remarkably handsome―

'No!' Daphne squeezed her eyes shut. 'Snap out of it!" she chided herself internally.

The man was indeed handsome, she would give him that. But he was also rude, annoying, and a persistently disrespectful, pigeon-livered―

"Why is your face so red, my darling?" Atticus continued to ask, wearing a lazy grin as he watched her sulk. "Surely you wouldn't abhor the idea as much as you seem to show?"

"In case you don't remember, Your Majesty, I was not and am not a willing participant of this marriage. " Daphne smiled with all her teeth. "And besides, no one would classify you as average and ordinary."

King Atticus smiled. "So you do think I'm extraordinary. What high praise, it almost makes my heart flutter."

Before she could slap him for his impudent comment, he continued.

"The whole hall heard you say your vows, sunshine." Atticus dared to reach forward, playing with a lock of her hair in his hand, twirling it around his finger. "You are now my queen whether you like it or not. And ultimately, you will still be by my side whether you like it or not."

"Your Majesty!" A guard suddenly appeared, saluting the king.

"Speak."

"The room has been prepared as per your instructions."

Before Daphne could react, Atticus scooped her up in his arms bridal-style, an arm under her knees and another supporting her back. She was swiftly lifted into the air and hulled out of the hall, a collective gasp ringing throughout the hall as the crowd watched their king and new queen practically disappear in a cloud of dust.

"Put me down!" She protested, but of course she was ignored.

They went past a few different corridors which all looked the same to Daphne. And when they finally came to the last door at the end of the hallway, Atticus unceremoniously kicked it open, causing her to panic. That door was made out of heavy wood, and it was dented by one mere kick. If he used his strength on her in bed, her bones would shatter immediately. She immediately squirmed, trying to escape.

He tightened his arms around her as he strode into the room. "Don't worry. I won't hurt you."

She had half-expected him to be rough. Yet, Atticus gently laid her down on the silky sheets before reaching for her shoes. Carefully, he helped her to remove them without another word, placing them against the wall and out of the way.

"What are you doing?" Daphne asked, wrinkling her nose in suspicion. "Why are you suddenly so... so..."

Gentle.

That was what she wanted to say. Yet, the word was caught in her throat.

"Hmm?" he hummed, looking up. In the dim light, Atticus's eyes reminded Daphne of a wild animal― wild and ravenous.

"Can I not help my lovely wife get comfortable in our own bed?" Atticus asked.

He reached up, loosening his own clothing. One by one, each piece of fabric fell from his body until all that was left was a loose white top with a very low collar. Daphne's eyes dropped down, betraying her by stealing a glance at his broad, firm chest.

She caught a slight glimpse of his sculpted figure, tantalizingly hidden only by a piece of sheer white fabric. But before she could see more, a finger was propped under her chin, lifting gently so that now her gaze met the king's.

"Eyes are up here, sunshine." He chuckled.

Atticus leaned forward, sending Daphne quickly scrambling back in a futile attempt to create distance between them. However, her back soon came into contact with the head of the bed frame, rudely reminding her that she now had nowhere else to run.

So instead of running, Daphne looked for a weapon. Her eyes flitted back and forth around her immediate vicinity until they landed on the bronze candelabra that was placed right next to the bed. She reached for it and gripped it tightly in her hold, poised and ready to strike.

"Is that necessary?" the king asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't exactly fancy the idea of fornicating with a man I am not in love with."

"Most married couples aren't in love, especially kings and queens," Atticus dryly replied. "And, correction, we are husband and wife. We should 'fornicate' intensely and frequently, for the good of our people."

"Frequently?! You must be daft. I see― you just want children. Well, since I'm your wife, I'll let you adopt all the children you want for your lineage! There's no need for consummation." She wielded the candelabra in front of her protectively, her knuckles turning white.

At her words, he chuckled darkly. "My my, are you so sheltered to believe that children are the only reasons for consummation?"

"Why else would anyone have bedroom relations?" Daphne demanded, her cheeks red hot.

She knew. Of course she did. There were more than a hundred whispers from the maids whenever they thought that no one else was within listening range. It was just that Daphne had never dared dream of it.

Could anyone even imagine? She was a princess! These vulgar gossip should've never made it to her ears. However, God made women curious creatures.

"And ― if it were for children ― what if I wanted children born from true royal blood?" Atticus hummed, his voice almost sing-song.

Daphne gulped, wishing away the bitter taste in her mouth as she prepared for what she was about to say next.

"Then take concubines, lovers, if you must."

"And you would allow that, my queen?" Atticus teased. "If I were to spend the night with another woman in bed," he moved forward, "tumbling in the sheets," another inch closer, "our breaths hot and heavy..."

Daphne took in a sharp breath when Atticus edged in nearer. Their faces were barely inches apart now. She was so close that his gaze was all that she could see, and as like before, she was entranced.

Just a bit. A bit more and their lips would've touched. But as much as her mind fought against the thought, her body couldn't seem to obey.

"Tell me, my sunshine," Atticus continued, "would you truly be okay with seeing your husband with someone else intimately?"

Daphne didn't have the chance ― thankfully ― to reply. Before she could even gather her thoughts, a series of knocks thundered on the door that separated them from the outside world, sending Daphne jumping a little where she sat.

Atticus's head spun immediately to face the door, a scowl hanging on his face.

"Who dares to interrupt my wedding night?" he bellowed. If looks could kill, Daphne knew that nothing could save the person that had just knocked on their bedroom door.

"Your Highness!" A panicked voice could be heard from outside. "We have intruders in the castle!"

Atticus rolled his eyes at the door. "That's it? I thought it was an emergency."

Hope bloomed in Daphne's heart. Intruders? No, it must have been a rescue party sent to retrieve her after they realized she hadn't arrived on time.

She genuinely smiled for the first time since arriving in this wretched kingdom.

There were sounds of a scuffle at the door, but King Atticus merely looked irritated.

"This is a sign that our union is not blessed by the Heavens," Daphne couldn't help but point out smugly as she escaped from the bed, scuttling to the edge of the room with the candelabra still clutched in her hand. "You should have known that kidnapping a royal bride would have consequences."

"Get back here. It's dangerous," Atticus demanded, an actual frown on his face― a far cry from his smug expressions. It delighted her to know that finally, he was experiencing some sort of inconvenience after all he did to her.

"No thank you," she said primly, loving the sudden turn of events. Ever since she had arrived to Vramid, King Atticus was the one that had the upper hand. Finally, Daphne felt as though she was one leg ahead.

"Don't stand there," Atticus warned, but it was too late.

A loud crash reverberated through the room. A masked man had shattered the glass panel of the window and leapt through the newly created gap. His eyes scanned the room, eyebrows furrowed deeply until his gaze landed on Daphne's trembling figure.

Daphne screamed and flinched at the sharp sound of glass breaking, fully expecting to be showered by glass shards. To her surprise, the shards never made it to her.

She opened a wary eye, only to see multiple shards floating in the air.

King Atticus had his hand outstretched, a snarl on his face. The small obsidian stone embedded in his silver ring glowed, practically shimmering. That was the source of his power. And clearly, he was powerful enough to simply freeze objects in motion as if it was a feat no more difficult than lifting his finger.

Daphne was relieved he saved her from being cut, but then she reminded herself that she wouldn't be in such a situation if not for him.

Besides, that flashy display of power only once again confirmed what she had already assumed. Their power difference was so stark that there was nothing Daphne could do to escape him on her own. What magic he wielded so effortlessly could not even be done by her after years of futile training.

What a poor excuse of a princess she was. Even her own little charm had been crushed by his bare hands.

"Princess!" the masked intruder shouted. "We're here to―"

"You're here to what?" Atticus cut in, a sneer on his face.

With a mere flick of his wrist, he directed the glass shards over to the intruder. The shards obeyed, slicing through the air like a thousand daggers.

The intruder managed to evade some but he definitely did not escape unscathed. While it was nothing fatal, cuts had already peppered his skin, lines of crimson seeping into the dark fabric of his clothing.

Sensing that he was seriously outclassed, the intruder reached for something under his scarf. There hidden just under the thin fabric was a clear stone. When the man touched it, the stone started to glow brilliantly.

A shrill, high-pitched sound resonated, immediately causing Daphne to reach up to shield her ears.

Within seconds, three other masked men appeared. Their appearance caused Daphne to take an unsure step back. There must've been a piece of glass that had been missed out by Atticus because the next thing she knew, a sharp pain shot through her leg, originating from the sole of her foot. When Daphne looked down and was met with the scarlet of her blood, she knew she had been cut.

A hiss involuntarily left her lips, the sound caused by her pain. It immediately drew Atticus's attention as the king spun around until he laid sight on the cut on her foot. Instantly, his frown deepened.

"Princess," one of the intruders said, "we are here under the orders of Crown Prince―"

"What a fucking pest," Atticus spat out.

"What?" One of the intruders had dumbly spoken out of turn, quickly gaining Atticus's scornful glare.

"In case you four imbeciles didn't know," he said, "it's supposed to be my wedding night."

With that said, Atticus raised a hand, holding it out in the general direction of the one that had spoken. Immediately, the man's limbs tightly stuck onto his body as if he was held together by a tight rope. His body went rigid, under Atticus's complete control.

The next man raised a hand, a silver glint forewarning a blade. Noticing that, Atticus narrowed his eyes. He moved his hand sharply in the direction of the broken window, sending the first man flying out with a scream.

As soon as the man was gone, Atticus held his other hand out to the second one. The scarlet light from the second invader was quickly snuffed. This time, instead of flinging him out, Atticus started to clench his fist.

The man's body was crushed along with the king's hand motions, paired with Daphne's horrified gasp. Multiple cracks could be heard due to the shattering of the man's ribs, along with pained gurgles from the victim. Yet, all this while, Atticus remained unflinching.

"Get him!" The other two intruders let out a unified battle cry as they charged toward the king, their weapons in hand.

"Pathetic," was all Atticus murmured. "If you so wish to court death, I will bring you to hell myself."

The intruders rushed toward King Atticus, intending to overwhelm him with their attacks. But Atticus merely stretched his neck languidly, like a panther preparing to strike.

"Look out!" Daphne screamed in warning, but it was too late.

Those intruders didn't know what her new husband was truly capable of, despite getting a tiny hint of his powers. With a tiny flex of his finger, Atticus had flung the same man whose ribs he crushed, straight into the chandelier hanging over their bed. The curved golden spikes stabbed straight through his body, as though he was a pig trussed up for slaughter.

The intruder gurgled, desperately trying to cry for help, but he only succeeded in coughing out blood. More blood flowed out of his wounds, sullying the bedsheets.

"Not how I expected blood to be shed this wedding night," Atticus said disapprovingly, glaring at the bloodstains as though they personally offended him. "Now the servants have to change the bedsheets."

Daphne shuddered at the sight, but her new husband wasn't done with causing enough carnage. The other two men made more desperate attempts to kill her husband, causing her to trip as she tried to keep out of the way.

These intruders clearly didn't care if they trampled on her in their attempts to kill the king!

While her fiance must have sent out this team of rescuers, they certainly didn't have her well-being as a priority! In fact, Daphne had the strangest feeling that she was merely an afterthought, the men were focused on killing Atticus, and not so much on rescuing her.

She had to rescue herself. Daphne plastered herself to the side of the wall, eyeing the drop from the window.

No, that wouldn't do. It was a long way down and she couldn't fly. If she focused, she could see a limp body lying prone on the ground, with his neck lying awkwardly to the side. She had no intention of joining him.

Daphne hurriedly turned back, only to see Atticus stepping on their heads with his foot, their faces frozen into a wordless scream.

"Now... where should I put you both?" he asked casually, not expecting a reply. "It's regretful that I only have one chandelier."

"Underneath my bed? No, no, too dirty. My dust bunnies don't deserve this," Atticus mused to himself. "The mantlepiece? How about the vanity table? I suppose if I lop off one of your heads I could mount it over... Wife, which head do you want to stare at while you do your hair?"

"Atticus!" Daphne screamed. "I don't want any heads! Let them go."

"Fair enough." Atticus shrugged, and flicked his fingers.

There were two identical cracks as both necks snapped at once.

Daphne gasped, horrified. This man, her husband, had just killed two men with a flick of his finger, as though he was snuffing out candles.

"I told you to let them go!" Daphne cried out.

"Yes, I let them go to receive divine judgment from the heavens," Atticus said blithely.

"You know that's not what I meant," Daphne seethed.

"Then you should have been more clear," Atticus said, his eyes blazing. "And I see no reason why you should care for these intruders."

"They were my rescuers!" she screamed. The hopelessness of the situation was sinking in; her last hope of rescue was gone, twisted away with a simple flick of his fingers.

"Sunshine, you cannot be this foolish," Atticus said, looking strangely disappointed. "How can this paltry team be a rescue party fit for a princess? I am offended on your behalf."

"Maybe this was all my fiance could manage in such a short time!" Daphne retorted. "It's not as though you gave him a lot of warning!"

"Are you listening to yourself? Crown Prince Nathaniel, of the prosperous Raxuvia Kingdom, can only afford to send a team of five to retrieve his fiancee? If you were my fiancee, I would have ridden out myself, rather than entrust such an important task to these pathetic assassins. Does he even care about you?" Atticus demanded, his eyes blazing with indignation.

"Assassins? How do you know?" Daphne chose to focus on that part. She didn't want to think about the heart-fluttering thought of Atticus riding out to rescue her from trouble. He was her trouble. She was in this state because of him!

Atticus easily pulled off one of the dead man's masks. He tilted his head, so that Daphne could see a tiny black mark at the back of his ear. It was in the shape of a serpent.

Her heart chilled.

Why was her fiance acquainted with them?

"You see this mark? This shows that he belongs to the Order of the Serpents. Surely you must have heard of them."

Daphne nodded, stunned into silence. While it was not customary for princesses to know about assassination guilds, Daphne had hoped that these people, living on the outskirts of the law, would know how to deal with her... inability.

As such, members of her family had once approached this and other similar guilds in hopes that someone from the black market would have a method to help her harness magic like she should've been able to at birth.

They hadn't.

And thus the royal family decided that this princess was no longer useful to keep around.

"Then," Atticus continued, "you should understand that they are most certainly not good people your 'lovely' fiance had sent to rescue you."

He walked around the bodies, easily evading the corpses without even having to look down. When he approached Daphne, the latter instinctively stepped back. The singular step was enough to send a throbbing pain up her foot, the sensation trailing up her leg like a bolt of lightning.

Instantly, Daphne hissed. She had forgotten about the cut herself.

"You've got a cut on your foot from the glass," Atticus commented, his nose wrinkling. "These men obviously didn't have your well-being in mind."

When Daphne tried to move again, Atticus clicked his tongue in impatience.

"Stop squirming. You'll only hurt yourself further."

Gently, Atticus reached for Daphne's foot. He picked at the piece of glass that was wedged in between her flesh, one hand holding her leg. His touch was feather-light and warm, a jarringly stark contrast to the violent monster that had torn apart four men just now.

"This will hurt."