Stolen by the Rebel King-Chapter 518: Liquid Courage II

Daphne immediately frowned. "Am I not welcomed?"

"Quite the opposite," Atticus said. "I’ve said before that my doors will always be open to you."

His expression, however, darkened. It wasn’t dangerous in a way Daphne feared for her life, no, but rather, she feared for her sanity. She hadn’t properly looked at him in so long― ever since she started suspecting Atticus, she had been looking at his sins, his cruelty, and every other little thing which she could mark a red score for.

How long had it been since Daphne looked at Atticus and saw him for him? The Atticus who was kind to her, who cared for her, who was patient to teach her magic when it brought him no benefit. The manner in which they met had been odd but through everything, he was the first to believe in her. Everything that Daphne had now was because of him.

Atticus Heinvres, the supposed tyrant of the North, had changed her life for the better.

"In that case, why do I need a reason to be here?" she asked, her voice soft as well. "Is wanting to see you not a reason enough?"

For some reason — probably the alcohol — Atticus’s eyes were bloodshot. When he heard Daphne’s words, he laughed in reply, shaking his head as Daphne reeled back slightly in confusion. She didn’t understand what was so funny about what she said, or at least, not until he pointed it out for her.

"You’ve not wanted to see me for quite some time now," he reminded matter-of-factly. "Especially not just to see me for the sake of seeing me."

"Things change," Daphne quickly rebutted. She sighed, then continued, "I― Jonah has left. He told me briefly how the three of you conquered Vramid’s throne and changed the kingdom for the better."

She looked down and fiddled with her thumb, using Atticus’s silence as a sign for her to continue.

"I’ve said before that I understood why you did what you did," she said. "Personal feelings aside, I am starting to empathize with you. And..."

Taking in a deep breath, Daphne raised her gaze once more. She pursed her lips, biting down so hard that she drew blood. The metallic taste flooded her mouth; she could taste nothing but the coppery taste of blood, followed by a tinge of bitterness from both the alcohol from before and from the anxiety that rushed through her chest.

"Personal feelings included," she continued, "I should’ve been more understanding of my husband, rather than doubt and question his every decision. I’m sorry."

There was no warning, no sign, and definitely no additional words spoken. Atticus leaned down without a second thought, capturing Daphne’s lips in a kiss. His hand moved to the back of her head, holding her close and in place as he moved against her, his other hand at the crook of her waist.

Instinctively, Daphne kissed him back. How she had longed for the feeling of his lips against hers; it had been far too long since they had been properly intimate with one another. It wasn’t just sex― they hadn’t kissed, held hands, or even hugged as a simple show of affection. After so long, this was a refreshing experience that relit the fire in Daphne’s heart.

She moved her hand to his neck, digging her fingers through the silky strands of his hair as she pressed her body closer to him. They kissed as though they were parched, finally finding water in the dry expanse of a never-ending desert. And when they finally parted, Atticus’s eyes never once left hers.

His tongue darted out and he licked his bottom lip. When Daphne spotted the tinge of red on him, she wondered for a second if that had been her blood. Yet, if it was, Atticus made no sign to show that he cared. If anything, his eyes were filled with hunger.

"You’ve every right to be upset," Atticus said. "I am sorry for disappointing you."

"We could probably keep apologizing to one another, but this would never end," Daphne said. There was just a bit of humor that coated her words, and thankfully, it brought a smile to Atticus’s face.

"Does this mean you’ve forgiven me?" Atticus asked.

"I think I have for a while," Daphne admitted. "But my ego has kept me from admitting it this entire time."

"What changed?"

"You’ve already made amends for whatever I have taken a personal grievance towards," Daphne said. "You’ve given Zephyr and Nereus a new wing and eye respectively―"

"And also probably a lifetime of trauma," Atticus added.

"Is there a need to make things worse for yourself?" Daphne prodded, jesting. "I was already doing a fine job of that for you."

Atticus shrugged. "I just need to make sure that this isn’t the alcohol speaking," he said. "That was a bottle from King Calarian’s collection; a wedding gift, he said. Too bad Princess Cordelia didn’t get to try it herself, but more for me."

His voice then turned a lot softer. "If I woke up the next morning only to find that this was all a dream, I think I would be devastated."

To hear him admit that out loud made Daphne feel a thousand things at once. Mainly, she felt her heart melt.

Atticus was finally willing to show her his vulnerabilities. Granted, perhaps he had tried to all along― no one could be strong all the time, no matter how powerful they were. She hadn’t opened her eyes to look and had mindlessly depended on him for so long. Just like almost everyone else, she liked the feeling of being protected. She had only forgotten that a healthy relationship meant it had to go both ways.

Daphne raised her hand, using her fingers to comb through Atticus’s hair. He closed his eyes shut, reveling in the sensation of her hands against his scalp. It was oddly calming, and Atticus wondered if this was, after all, truly just a dream.

"It’s not a dream," Daphne said. "It’s not the alcohol speaking either. Thank you for being patient with me."

Atticus was silent for a moment. Then, his gaze softened― there was a smile on his face, brighter than any moon, star, or even if the sky was alight with a thousand suns. He was dazzling in every way possible, and now that the storm clouds had been blown away, Daphne could see him in all his glory.

"Thank you for coming back," Atticus muttered.

This time, it was Daphne who took the initiative. She stood to the tips of her toes and used her hands to nudge Atticus’s head down a little. Then, she pressed her lips against his.