Unwilling Bride

"You are insane," Daphne spat out, furious. "Utterly deluded, if you think I would agree. I am promised to another."

Contrastingly, the man seemed to be overjoyed. His eyes had lost some of their coldness. He chuckled, smiling fondly at Daphne as though she was his real lover. If she hadn't known better, she would've even been mistaken by the look he gave her.

She knew better. It didn't stop him from messing with her mind.

"Yes, I know. Poor Prince Nathaniel will simply have to live with this tiny disappointment. Don't worry your pretty head about it," he said comfortingly, patting her cheek. She flinched.

"Don't be ridiculous. There's still time for you to set things right. Unhand me at once! I have to marry him!"

"Hmmm…" he tilted his head in consideration, before giving her a mocking smile. "No."

Daphne stifled an exasperated scream, her fingers twitching as she longed to wrap them around her captor's neck and squeeze. Meanwhile, the man just watched her yell with an indulgent smile, as though she was a pet making a fuss.

"You'll find that I'm a much better husband than Prince Nathaniel." He continued, "After all, what is a prince compared to a king?"

"... A king?" Daphne paled, giving the man a careful once-over.

This couldn't be King Atticus, could it? According to the stories, he was supposed to be an old wizened man!

"You're King Atticus?" Daphne asked, still disbelieving. "Of Vramid?" When the man didn't reply, Daphne's blood boiled. "Don't lie to me, everyone knows that King Atticus is supposed to be an old man. Are you sure you're not his son?"

King Atticus, according to the kingdom of Reaweth's knowledge, was an old wizened man who made a deal with the devil for his powers. Tales of his cruelty and bloodlust were well-known in Reaweth― in fact, King Atticus was a popular tale used by parents to scare misbehaving children. They claimed that King Atticus would steal unruly children by wrapping his long clawed fingers around their ankles as they slept, and devoured them in his attic in exchange for cursed power.

Daphne had treated those tales as sheer nonsense, a bedtime story cooked up by parents desperate for their children to behave. Only now, she realized she would have preferred the boogeyman who stole children over the real thing.

The man scoffed, muttering bitterly to himself. "Of course they would say that. Isn't it so convenient? Liars to the bone…"

"Excuse me?"

"If that's what people in Reaweth believe, your country's education system needs an overhaul… Princess, open your eyes and take a good look at me."

He tilted her chin up again, amber eyes meeting hers. This time, she met his gaze head-on, and her heart, traitorous thing it was, skipped a beat. It was entirely unfair for someone so nasty to have a face this handsome.

She didn't want to but Daphne did look at him. And what a sight for sore eyes the man was.

His eyes were deep, swirling pools of what resembled liquid gold. Paired with his rosy lips and pale skin that reminded her of the powdery snow outside, Daphne wouldn't even have been surprised if he claimed himself to be an angel.

Well, or at least, maybe if she hadn't had the luxury of interacting with him yet she would've thought of him as one. With a personality like that, him being an angel was entirely impossible.

"Does this look like the face of an old man to you? Or maybe you hoped for an old man who would die on top of you during your wedding night? You certainly have strange tastes for a princess."

Daphne spluttered, her face turning red.

"What?! How dare you― I would never―! The nerve―"

He rubbed his hand over the small of her back, a mockery of comfort.

"Unfortunately, if you want a wizened old man, you'll have to stick with me for the next fifty years. That's not a lot of time. I'm sure I'll grow on you. Eventually."

"Fifty years… Over my dead body! I'm not marrying you even if you're the king!" Daphne yelled, infuriated. She would rather marry a tentacle monster than him. Her hand moved to slap him.

King Atticus's eyes flashed a brighter gold. Daphne's body froze, as though immobilized by another power. She wanted to speak, to yell and scream, but then her mouth refused to move. She couldn't form a single word.

"My dear, this is not up to you," King Atticus said woefully, but his eyes were sharp and amused. "We're holding our wedding now. You can show up in tears or with a smile on your face, it will not change the outcome."

Daphne blinked furiously.

"Servants, get the priest and the hall ready," King Atticus ordered. To Daphne's surprise, an entire bevy of maids appeared and scattered, except for one.

"Your Highness," she asked meekly. "Are you going to undo the enchantment? Or let the princess clean up?"

"No. She's so much trouble. Can't have her drowning herself in the bathtub."

Daphne scoffed a little in disbelief, though that was the limit of what she could do.

King Atticus pretended not to notice. "Do be a dear, Maisie, and just help her change into her wedding gown and brush her hair." King Atticus shrugged nonchalantly.

Daphne glared at him, willing him to turn to ashes. He smirked.

"But I'll let you talk, Wife. It'll be boring otherwise."

"You scoundrel, you'll pay for this!" Daphne yelled the moment she could. Said scoundrel only waved a mocking goodbye.

"Princess Daphne, I'll escort you to your rooms to change," Maisie said, and Daphne was forced to grit her teeth and endure the sheer indignity of being carted around by a maid as though she was a huge sack of potatoes.

She was quickly deposited in a room.

"We are so sorry about this," one maid said. "His Highness usually isn't like this."

"Hard to believe," Daphne muttered indignantly under her breath.

The maids simply winced and smiled, unable to comment any further. Daphne wasn't sure if it was because they didn't wish to entertain her or didn't dare to. After all, the princess wouldn't be surprised if heads started rolling due to wagging tongues.

Daphne was quickly squeezed, primmed, and accessorized like a doll within moments. She had a delicate white gown on, a dress that miraculously fit her perfectly. It had long, sheer bell sleeves and delicate lace around the bodice of the dress. Her hair had been brushed and styled into a neat bun, a small tiara resting at the top of her head.

The maids hadn't even bothered to ask Daphne about her impression of the outfit. As soon as everything was in place, Daphne was rushed out again. This time, the maids carried her down a long corridor and passed multiple twists and turns, coming to a stop in front of two grand doors.

"Best of luck, Your Highness," Maisie said with a smile. The maid conveniently ignored the look of sheer horror that had caught Daphne's facial features in a death grip. "May you have a blessed marriage."

"Wait… Wait, no―!"

The large doors swung open before Daphne could properly word her sentence. A flash of glaring light nearly blinded Daphne as she blinked, turning her head away from the door. The sound of trumpets blaring and the organ playing the classic wedding march immediately sounded. Above all, she heard the voice of the herald announcing her arrival.

Squinting through her lashes, Daphne caught sight of the handsome ― albeit devilish ― man at the end of the altar. Even from this distance, she couldn't miss the tilt of his lips, curved into a smirk.

"Presenting Her Royal Highness, Princess Daphne of Reaweth!"