A Gift

For a man of royalty, Atticus was a king that prided himself on maintaining a cool head on numerous occasions. He had been in battles, fought wars, handled the court, and been through many other things that would've been the end of him if he had let himself slip.

So, it was rather odd that it took as little as a lady asking for help to cause his face to burn bright red like a beetroot.

"Pardon?" Atticus asked. "You want me to do what?"

"Do me up," she repeated. "My laces, I mean. I can't properly lace my corset myself."

Atticus swallowed heavily, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he did so. Slowly, he edged closer toward Daphne before holding onto the laces where she gestured to.

"Most women can do this themselves," he muttered under his breath.

"Yes," Daphne answered. "But I can't get it as tight as I want it to be. Thus I need another person's help."

"Let me know if it's too tight, then."

He began pulling the strings, tugging at the laces as Daphne gasped in surprise. He repeated the motion a couple of times, watching in awe as her waistline got smaller and smaller. All the while, Daphne did not make a single sound above a gasp or a muffled grunt.

"Is that better?" he asked once he was done.

"Thank you," Daphne said. She moved her hair back, and when she did, Atticus could smell the fragrance of flowers on her hair.

She turned nearly just as quickly, and only when she had did Atticus realize how close they were standing to each other once again. When their gazes met, Atticus thought his feet had been nailed onto the floor and his heart had been whipped― it was racing like a horse running free.

The memory of Daphne sprawled on top of him that day of their snowball fight resurfaced in Atticus's mind. It was an odd sensation. His blood felt cold, as though someone had replaced it with the chilly, near-frozen waters of Vramid's rivers. Yet, his body felt like lava had been poured over his skin.

"You're welcome," Atticus croaked out.

He cleared his throat and mentally snapped himself out of the feverish state his body found himself in. It was as though she had placed an enchantment on him; his fingers still felt heated― as though he was a young boy that had burnt himself on candlelight.

Daphne turned around, curious at the strange tone of his voice.

"Are you alright? Will you be ready for the ball?"

"Thanks for your concern," Atticus said, purposely batting his eyelashes as he quickly stepped back. Teasing Daphne brought him back to familiar territory, something he desperately needed. "But this humble servant finds his fingers in excruciating pain. Will my lady be so kind as to kiss them better?"

Daphne scowled, a red flush on her cheeks. She shouldn't have wasted her concern on him!

"Put those fingers near me and I'll make sure you lose them!"

"All good deeds remain unappreciated," Atticus lamented dramatically, gesturing to the box. "To think I was going to give you this beautiful jewelry set I got for you for the ball…"

"You were?" Daphne eyed the box warily.

"You of little faith." Atticus popped the box open with a flourish, and Daphne couldn't stop the breathless exhale that escaped her when she caught sight of its contents.

Atticus wasn't lying. In the box laid a pair of dangling earrings with an impressive garnet crystal at each end, designed to look like a blooming rose. Daphne watched, captivated, as they flickered in the light, glowing like tiny fire embers.

When she reluctantly tore her eyes away from them, she finally noticed the necklace. If the earrings were lone stalks of roses, the necklace was an entire flower garden. Surrounding the garnet pendant were plenty of other crystals in various shades of red, the intricate golden chain weaving them together in perfect harmony.

"You got this for me? Why?" Daphne asked, wonderingly.

"You are my wife," Atticus said bluntly. "How could I let you face my court without any armor?"

Daphne's heart raced at the surprisingly considerate gesture. "I doubt your court is that terrifying. Nothing could be as terrifying as you."

"You'll see when you meet them later," Atticus promised. "Please keep these on you at all times."

"...Why?"

Ignoring Daphne's previous threat, Atticus brought Daphne's hands to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on the back of it. He tried his best to ignore the sensation of her bare skin against his, how soft, smooth, and fragile it was― she was.

"For protection."

Yes, protection. Against the questioning stares of the noble circle, against the calculative glances of the members of his court, and against the curious looks that would've been given by the common people if they had the luxury to meet their new queen in person.

Atticus had many enemies. Much too many to count. And it would be good for Daphne to have a crystal she could use ― one that was actually working ― to protect herself if it ever came down to it.

"And," Atticus added, "this shall be your first aptitude test."

"Oh?" Daphne's ears perked a little in curiosity. "To test my magic?"

"Yes." He nodded. "May I?"

Daphne smiled, wordlessly shifting her hair away and turning around to provide Atticus access to the back of her neck. He picked up the necklace from the box, carefully securing the necklace around Daphne's neck. When he was clasping it shut, his fingers accidentally grazed against the back of her neck, causing her goosebumps to rise.

She tried her best to refrain from shuddering instinctively.

"You will be wearing this for the next few hours," Atticus said. "This will give us enough time to observe how your aura reacts with the stone. If garnet works well with you, these will help you hone your magic."

"And if it doesn't?"

Daphne turned around once Atticus was done, allowing her gaze to meet his. For a second, Atticus thought he spied fear in her irises. But as soon as it came, it was gone.

"Then," he answered, his voice barely even above a murmur, "it will be a pretty piece of jewelry for a beautiful lady."