Traitorous Mind

Atticus spluttered as he coughed out a mouthful of snow, only for Daphne to grab another handful and shove it down his shirt. The cold caused him to let out an undignified shriek; he immediately channeled his powers through the sunstone in his pocket, suffusing his body with a warmth that melted the offending snow.

He bared his teeth, ready for battle. Even if the opponent was his wife, he wasn't going to show her any mercy!

But when he was about to strike, he was struck dumb by the sound of her laughter. His wife, who had scowled and grumbled and snarled at him in no small measure ever since she had arrived at Vramid, had her face tilted to the sky as she laughed uproariously. She was practically wheezing with laughter.

He stilled his hand, all of a sudden captivated as though he was stuck in a trance.

She looked enchantingly lovely, her cheeks flushed with exertion, her breath escaping her mouth in puffs as she gasped and laughed. All this while, Atticus had viewed her as part of his project, a means to an end. She wasn't really as much a person as she was a tool. Just like the stones they wielded, she was beautiful but that was just about it.

Yet now… Now he was utterly beguiled. How hadn't he noticed before?

Princess Daphne of Reaweth was always rumored to be beautiful. He hadn't been surprised or disappointed when Atticus finally saw her in real life as well. But now… every bit of laughter that escaped her lips sounded like the tinkling of wind chimes. Her smile was radiant and seemingly held the warmth of sunlight in it. And her eyes, when they weren't glaring him down with the heat of Hell, reminded Atticus of the swirling depths of the ocean― he was willing to drown in them forever.

She bent down again and flung another handful of snow at him.

Atticus blinked, snapping himself out of the strange stupor he found himself in. So what if his wife was beautiful and lovely, and when she laughed it felt like the coming of spring in his heart? That wasn't important, and it wouldn't derail the plans he had for her.

It couldn't.

He steeled his heart, and then scooped up the snow, using his powers to quickly, yet discreetly, shape it into a perfect snowball. Daphne may have gotten the better of him, but it was only because he was taken unawares. He was raised in the heavy snowfalls of Vramid, there was no way a sheltered princess from sunny Reaweth would defeat him in a snowball fight!

He flung it straight at her. Now it was Daphne's turn to scream as she ducked just in time, covering her head with her hands.

"Sunshine, don't start battles you can't win," Atticus drawled out, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he prepared to fire his weapon at her.

Daphne frantically gathered snow to gather into a ball, not liking the look in his eyes. She was going to suffer severe consequences for her audacity, but the first shot had already been fired. Since she was going to be punished either way, she might as well go down with a fight.

"You'll never get me alive!" she declared hotly as she simply flung what she had at him.

Without magic, the snowballs that Daphne made in haste were anything but great. They were barely circular and really more oval than anything. Some snowballs were so fragile that they broke apart before even crossing the distance between them. The others were too densely packed and would've no doubt hurt if it had successfully hit its target.

Thankfully, Atticus had the unfair advantage of using his magic to tear through her ammo. If the snowballs actually made it to him, it would no doubt cause a bruise.

"Are you getting tired already?" Atticus commented, laughing as he shot snowball after snowball in Daphne's direction. He could see the puffs of white that escaped her lips with every breath. Her stamina was quickly running out. "You can always surrender, you know? Along with a nice apology since you did start this war."

Daphne gritted her teeth, her buttons officially pushed. "Never!"

Letting out a war cry, she did something her parents and the rest of her family would've keeled over if they saw her doing. Taking off at full speed, Daphne made a mad dash toward Atticus. She charged towards him, reaching out her hands to tackle him.

At first, Atticus was confused about what his new wife was up to. Then, when he saw the look on her face ― one which resembled a berserk animal in an arena ― his eyes widened in horror.

"Wait… Sunshine… No―"

It was too late. By all means and reason, Daphne's body weight and strength shouldn't have been enough to tackle down the monstrous giant Atticus was, standing at 6'3. However, when the tuft of bright golden hair came charging towards him, he didn't know what took over his body.

The moment her hands wrapped around his torso, Atticus fell back with Daphne clinging onto him. Gravity brought them down to the ground while the layers of powdered snow cushioned their fall, though Atticus took the brunt of it.

His hand held Daphne's head securely, making sure she hadn't hit anything on the way down. Or at least, nothing more than more snow shoveled in their faces due to the fall.

"You are insane." Atticus hissed, wincing. Nothing badly hurt but it wasn't exactly a pleasant feeling either to be sent sprawling onto the ground.

"Desperate times call for desperate measures," Daphne grumbled.

"Sunshine, there are better methods to win a fight," Atticus retorted. "For example―"

He stopped short when Daphne looked up, finally lifting her gaze from his chest and back onto him. Their eyes met and for a second, Atticus forgot how to breathe. He hadn't realized they were so close to one another. And at that moment, he was suddenly hyper-aware of everything― how their faces were inches apart, how his hand was on the back of her head and at her waist, how her palms were pressed against his chest.

Atticus's Adam's apple rolled up and down. His heart felt like it stopped beating for a second there.

"Like?" she asked, her voice suddenly softer and meeker than before.

"Like…" he trailed off. His gaze lowered from her doe-like eyes down to her soft, pink lips before snapping back up to meet her gaze. "Like calling it a truce," he finally choked out. "You are freezing."

In haste, Atticus climbed to his feet, pulling Daphne up along with him. Once they were standing properly, he repelled away from her as though she had caught the plague. He didn't know why he was acting that way either, only that he knew he couldn't be near her in that manner again. If not, who knew what would happen to his traitorous mind?

"Let's head back," he said. "You need to get warm."

With that said, Atticus and Daphne started their journey back to the castle. Only this time, unlike when they were leaving the castle earlier, the journey back had more words unspoken than said.