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Stolen by the Rebel King

As a princess who could not wield magic, Princess Daphne’s only value to her kingdom was her arranged marriage. The task was simple, but when Daphne was kidnapped and brought to the cold mountains of Vramid, she realized that she was in over her head. She had heard of these cursed mountains before― rocky terrain, freezing temperatures, and the land was ruled by a man feared by many within the continent. King Atticus Heinvres, the blood-thirsty ruler of the North. Even though she had never met him before, tales were spread of King Atticus’s ruthlessness. Some said he was a monster, others claimed he was the devil himself, but whatever the story was, everyone knew of the man who had powers beyond anyone’s imagination. He could topple armies and crumble nations with just one wave of his hand, aided by what others rumored to be a cursed obsidian ring. No one outside of Vramid had ever met the fearsome king before. Not until Daphne. However, upon meeting the formidable man, Daphne found out that the king might not really be the monster others had claimed him to be. In fact, what was hidden under that obsidian shield could just be a diamond in the rough. ― [Excerpt] “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,” Atticus said. Then, his eyes darkened. “To receive divine judgment from the heavens.” ― Discord Server: https://discord.gg/7HAMK2bRYU Spin-off/Prequel: The Hidden King's Stolen Wife (WIP)

saltedpepper · Fantasie
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578 Chs

None The Wiser

When Daphne was finally awake, it was Atticus who found himself rubbing sleep from his eyes. He had gotten nowhere near enough sleep after their nighttime excursion, and yawns kept on emerging from his mouth.

Strangely enough, Daphne only seemed endeared at this display of pathetic tiredness from him, even as he was half-slumped in front of her during lunch. There was a marked change in her attitude towards him; the sweetness of her sleepy mumbles from the night before no daydream, they were as real as the grains of sand stuck in Atticus's ears. And hair. And nearly every crevice of his clothes and shoes.

Atticus wondered what led to this shift in attitudes, but he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. He had endured his fair share of misfortunes the night before― nearly dying in an explosion and getting spat at by a smelly camel. 

And he would have to repeat this experience nightly until he got what he came for.