Stolen by the Rebel King

"Get your hands off of me! Where are you taking me?" Daphne struggled in the grips of her captors, shoving back against their hold. Unfortunately, her frail strength could not be compared to that of two fully grown men, who each held onto one of her elbows with an iron grip.

It was supposed to be her wedding day. She was prepared to suffer stiff muscles from sitting in a carriage for too long, ready to endure awkward conversations with her new, unfamiliar husband from a new, unfamiliar land. After all, as the only royal family member who could not wield magic, that was all that she was worth.

And the rest of the royal circle made sure she would never forget that.

Yet, she did not expect to be inelegantly snatched from her carriage and kidnapped to a land no one dared to set foot in. Vramid, with its numerous mountain ranges, frequent hailstorms, and deadly wildlife, was a death trap for the unprepared.

And now, the chilly winds and frightful storms outside the barren stone walls of the fortress reflected the scene exactly in Daphne's heart.

"Shut up!"

The guards promptly shoved her to the ground without further warning, causing her to cry out as her knees slammed against the hard marble floor. The skin on her hands burned as her palms slid across the floor from the strength of their throw.

"How dare you!"

The guards scoffed, unimpressed. They moved away without a single glance.

Daphne was a princess; she had never been treated so roughly in her life. The skin of her hands was now red with friction burns and her knees were bruised due to the impact. However, that was the least of her worries.

Right in her line of sight was a pair of polished boots. Daphne's eyes reluctantly trailed up, her goosebumps rising more and more by the second. A long pair of legs, a strong torso, a broad chest clothed in fine military wear― her heart stuttered as she registered a pair of dark amber eyes glaring down at her.

Even though his eyes were a warm color, the look he shot her was frosty. Her hair stood to its ends and her blood ran cold.

"Hello, princess," the man drawled in a deep voice, slow and sensual.

From where Daphne was, the man seemed to be towering over her, though she knew that wouldn't be far from the truth. He had a leg crossed over the other, the side of his head propped up by his knuckles as he smiled down at her.

His smile, paired with his dark cold eyes, caused Daphne to feel more threatened than if he were to immediately stab a sword through her heart. She heard rumors that the people of Vramid were ruthless, but this man seemed to be another brand of intelligently cruel, the sort that would give her a rope to hang herself with.

This was a man that liked to play with his prey.

"Hello," Daphne replied. She stood up shakily, trying to calm her racing heart. Her hand instinctively went to her opal necklace, preparing to shatter it to send out a signal for help once he was distracted.

"You seem to have me at an advantage. I do not know your name."

"Make an educated guess, princess. It's not that hard," he said mockingly. "According to the bards, the first princess of Reaweth was meant to be the wisest of all royalty. If you are the best they have to offer, your family must be as intelligent as a sack of rocks."

Daphne spluttered furiously, her fear was now accompanied by indignation at the insult to her family. If Daphne wasn't his prisoner, she would have given him an earful for his rudeness.

Instead, she could only settle for glaring hotly at him. She reminded herself to stall. She had the crystal, and her fiance would soon realize she hadn't arrived and send a search party out for her.

"Are you going to give me three guesses?"

"Do I look like an imp from a story, longing to steal your firstborn?" Now, there was amusement in his eyes. Daphne froze- this was a story read to children in Reaweth. She highly doubted it would spread all the way to Vramid.

How did this man know it? She eyed him carefully.

"I-"

Suddenly he stood up, towering over her. He was close enough that she could smell the scent of cedar and pine from his body. She instinctively tried to step back, but her legs couldn't move. It was as though they had been nailed to the floor with an unseen force.

"What are you doing?" Daphne wanted to scream, but the air was stolen from her lungs.

"Tsk, tsk. You're smart, Princess. I stand corrected. But not smart enough." The man's fingers gently stroked the soft skin of her cheek, before reaching for her chin, tilting it high enough that it was almost painful for her.

This close, she could see the gold flecks in his eyes. They were still terrifyingly cold, despite the amused smile on his face. He leaned closer, as though he aimed to kiss her.

"Don't-" Daphne frantically tried to push him away, but then she realized she made a fatal mistake.

The man's target wasn't her lips. It was her necklace.

Before she could grab it, he reached out and easily tugged the necklace loose from her neck. Daphne's neck burned from where the necklace was pulled free, staring helplessly as the crystal beads clattered loudly when it made contact with the cold marble floor.

"How..." Daphne's eyes widened in shock and fear. This necklace was a priceless gift from her sister, crafted with nothing but the best for royalty. It was supposed to be indestructible.

Yet... This man snatched it from her neck as though it was merely a cheap trinket from the market.

"This? This is nothing." He laughed, idly dangling the huge opal crystal in his hand right in front of Daphne's horrified face. "My apologies. Did you depend on this for rescue?"

"Give it back!"

"It was mine first." Before Daphne could figure out the meaning in his words, the man clenched his fist around the crystal and crushed it with his bare hands, seemingly delighted at Daphne's torment.

"You beast! Why have you brought me here," Daphne seethed, forcing the words out. Fear and raged war within her. Her eyes darted to the fallen shards of the crystal beads, now coated with a thin layer of the man's crimson blood.

"Well," he said with a lazy grin. Daphne watched as he leaned back into the throne. "To be my bride, of course."

"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 onceover.

This couldn't be King Attitcus, 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 that 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 realizes she would have preferred the boogeyman that 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 that 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 50 years. That's not a lot of time. I'm sure I'll grow on you. Eventually."

"50 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' 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!"

'This cannot be happening to me,' Daphne thought dazedly. She couldn't move her legs, but that didn't stop her body from gliding down the aisle via a supernatural force. She narrowed her eyes, glaring hotly at the culprit as the distance between her and her soon-to-be husband steadily shrank.

Out of the hordes of servants watching this spectacle, no one blinked an eye at the fact that she was here under duress, getting married under the coercion of supernatural forces. If her groom could do this to her, an actual princess, who knows what the servants had to endure?

Said culprit merely continued smirking.

"Why do you look so delighted?" Daphne grumbled. She could not be less amused.

"Someone has to be for this wedding, and it certainly isn't going to be you," he replied glibly, holding her hand with his own, larger one. For such a cold-hearted scoundrel, he certainly had warm hands.

"What makes you think I'll accept this farce of a wedding?"

"You have no choice," King Atticus said. "Agree to marry me, or I'll kill everyone in this hall and marry you anyway. The choice is yours."

"You―" Her blood grew cold when she heard the callous words from his lips. "They are your people! You're their king. You would kill them for this?"

"Like you said, I'm their king. If our marriage doesn't happen, they'll die anyway. It's only a matter of time. Would you have their deaths on your conscience, Princess Daphne?"

If Daphne were calmer, she would find those words suspicious. As it was, she was shaking from unrestrained rage. "Don't you dare blame me for your actions! I pity your people, for having to live under such a capricious and cruel king."

King Atticus only looked more amused. He turned to the priest, who looked like he couldn't wait to escape from the hall. Daphne could understand. She gave him a pleading look, hoping that he could help her stop this wedding.

She was sorely disappointed.

"We are gathered here today to witness the joining of hearts and minds... "

Daphne closed her eyes in desperate prayer. She missed the fond look her husband gave her, and the way he gestured to the priest to hurry up. Instinctively, Daphne reached up, thankful that her new husband had at least given her this bit of mobility back. Yet, her body felt like it was doused in cold water when her fingers touched nothing but the bare skin of her neck.

That's right. She had forgotten. King Atticus had ripped the last bit of familiarity left on her body and smashed it to the ground like it was nothing more than glass.

The realization of her destroyed necklace sent Daphne into further despair. After all, that necklace wasn't just an accessory― like most jewelry on the continent, they were supposed to be charms, talismans that would aid them in their magic. And although Daphne had never been adept at it, that little trinket still made her feel safe. It was, after all, a gift from her sister.

"...to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health..." the priest continued.

Daphne could see clear as day the tick of irritation that flashed across the king's face, and with each passing word, increasingly so. The vein that throbbed at his temple nearly sent Daphne into a giggling fit.

Why was he so impatient? Did he have somewhere else to be after this?

So enraptured in her stupor, she hadn't even noticed that King Atticus had already said his vows. And when the priest addressed her, calling her for the second time, Daphne snapped back to reality.

"Your Highness?" the priest prompted.

Daphne blinked. Dumbly, her lips parted but no words left. She couldn't find her own voice, glancing back and forth between the priest and the king.

"Pardon?"

"Do you, Princess Daphne Amelia Molinero, take His Majesty, King Atticus Rowan Heinvres, as your lawfully wedded husband?"

The hall was drenched in silence. Daphne was sure that everyone could hear her heart thundering in her chest without even having to strain their ears too hard.

She wasn't sure why but Daphne's first instinct was to turn towards King Atticus. Her eyes met his instantly, gazes colliding.

For some insane reason, Daphne felt her heart calm down. The gaze in his eyes were soft, mellow, and unlike anything else she had ever associated him with ever since she had first heard tales of this cruel king.

The pooling gold in his eyes was hypnotizing. His irises reminded Daphne of the stars that dotted the sky at night, or of the glow of the sun when evening casts it onto the horizon.

She was so mesmerized in his gaze that it was only when the hall erupted into boisterous cheers had she finally snapped out of it.

"And now I pronounce you man and wife. You may now kiss the bride."

Wait... had she already said 'I do'?

"Wait―" Daphne murmured, looking around. "I didn't―"

"You did," King Atticus swiftly cut in. Daphne glared sharply at him, her blood boiling when she connected the dots.

"You! You used magic on me," she accused angrily.

Her new husband had the gall to look affronted at being accused. "Honored priest, did you see me casting any spell on my bride?"

"No I did not, Your Highness," the priest said placidly.

Daphne gritted her teeth. They were all liars and scoundrels.

"You heard him."

Before Daphne could react, she felt a pair of warm lips pressed against her own. The kiss was not intrusive― there was no tongue or teeth or any of that disgusting action she had heard the maids of the Reawethen castle had gossiped about.

Instead, it was just a chaste kiss, a brief moment where their lips were in contact. Yet, that brief second was all that was needed. Warmth rushed through her body. Immediately, where their skins touched, Daphne felt as though it was on fire ― in the best way possible ― as if there were flowers blooming where he touched her.

The feeling confused her, for she rejected and repelled the man with all her might in her heart. Yet... maybe it was just the power of it having been her first kiss. It felt like for a second, she had been cast into paradise.

But that second came and went and as soon as Atticus pulled back, Daphne snapped back into reality. That was the second time within the last hour the king had done something against her desires.

Meanwhile, Atticus only beamed when he saw his new wife's angry face.

"Now that the ceremony is over, we should proceed to the most important part of any wedding."

"I'm not hungry," Daphne bit out. Her stomach was now twisted with dread and indignant anger― she doubted she could swallow anything bigger than a prune. "You can have the banquet without me."

"Banquet? Surely you jest, my sweet wife. We're not having a banquet."

"Then what are you referring to? What can be more important than..."

Her voice trailed off, a horrible conclusion forming in her mind. Her body trembled and shook and her eyes widened with fear.

A look of utmost amusement flashed across his handsome face.

"It seems like you've guessed it." Atticus turned to his servants and declared, "Prepare the bedding chamber! I wish to consummate my marriage immediately."