Daphne found herself in a peculiarly familiar situation. She was stuck in bed once again, eting the wooden ceiling of a room right upon waking up. Her four limbs felt stiff and heavy and her throat felt as though she had just chugged down a bottle’s worth of sand. When she parted her lips in an attempt to speak, the skin of her lips stretched uncomfortably, a telltale sign of just how dry it was.
The discomfort promptly caused Daphne to close her mouth again. Instead, she decided to look around the room.
Was she dead?
She couldn’t rember much of what happened. There was fire― a lot of it. In her hazy mories, she thought she saw Atticus rushing in and cradling her in his arms as though she was the most precious treasure in this world.
It seed like one thing was for sure, at least. Every ti Daphne went overboard with her powers, she would pass right out.
Light, even breathing from her bedside caused her to turn to look. She craned her neck, moving as much as she could just to see Atticus sprawled on the bed. He tightly clutched Daphne’s hand in his. Even in sleep, his grip did not loosen.
Daphne watched in silence as his shoulders rose and fell in a steady rhythm, a wave of mories crashing down upon her. When she had first discovered her powers, Atticus had, too, stayed by her bedside for days, waiting for her to wake up. It was heartwarming to see that none of that had changed.
The faint sound of the door opening drew Daphne’s attention to it. Sirona walked in, a small basin in her hands. She looked tired, even more so than usual, and Daphne knew that she was most definitely to bla for that. Seeing as to how they were still in the room Daphne and Atticus shared in The Pleasant Inn, Atticus must’ve had Sirona rush over from the capital.
A wave of guilt rushed through Daphne.
"Oh," Sirona said. Her eyes widened just a small fraction but didn’t otherwise show any more surprise that Daphne had finally awoken. "You’re awake."
"How long was I out for this ti?" Daphne croaked.
"Two days," Sirona replied.
She helped pry Daphne’s hands out from Atticus’s grip before helping Daphne to sit up. Atticus must’ve been exhausted. As a veteran on the battlefield, any slight movent would’ve caused him to stir awake. And yet, even with Daphne moving around, he was still sleeping soundly.
"Take this." Handing Daphne a glass of water, Sirona continued, "I just arrived this morning. This dumb bloke has been awake since you were brought back to the inn, according to Jonah. He just fell asleep about an hour ago."
"He seems awfully tired," Daphne comnted, smiling wistfully at her husband.
"He was." Sirona nodded. "But he wouldn’t sleep no matter how much Jonah tried to convince him. In the end, I had to give him so... additional help."
"You drugged him?" Daphne’s eyes widened with surprise.
Sirona rely shrugged. "He wouldn’t sleep otherwise. Insisted on staying awake in case you wake up."
Daphne slowly sipped at the water Sirona had given her. The liquid soothed her parched throat. Once she had finished the entire glass, Daphne sighed in satisfaction.
"You don’t seem too surprised that I will wake up," Daphne comnted.
"Of course not," Sirona replied. "I am the best healer this kingdom ― and maybe other kingdoms ― will ever know."
At that point, both Daphne and Sirona shared a laugh, though once it died down, Sirona’s expression turned a little more serious.
"Although, you probably passed out due to overexertion. This and the previous ti both. You really need to learn how to control your powers. Honestly, I am not sure how much more your body can take."
"I know," Daphne softly said. "I am trying. It’s just that I have not found a trigger for my powers. Jonah said that negative triggers are bad and unstable, but it is exactly those dangerous situations that can help tap in. At that mont, it even feels... natural."
"It’s probably your body’s fight or flight response," Sirona said. She began to scribble on her notebook. "What can you rember of your powers this ti?"
"I think... I breathed out fire in Bram’s face," Daphne recalled, scrunching her face as she thought hard. "I can still taste so smoke in my throat."
"That explains your throat," Sirona said with a scoff. "Anything else? Atticus ntioned that there was a lot of wine in the tavern basent where you were found."
"I set it on fire," Daphne answered.
She then explained how she had managed to fling the on-fire wine onto Bram’s body, buying Maisie and her so ti to recover before striking again by essentially flambéing him. At the ntion of her maid, Daphne sat up even straighter.
"Maisie! How is she?"
Sirona frowned, scribbling a little more. "Traumatized," she answered, "but alive. Jonah’s looking after her right now. You needn’t be too worried about that one."
With that, Daphne’s posture slackened. She placed a hand on her chest, tapping herself in relief. "That’s good to hear."
"More on that later," Sirona said. She tapped her pen on the notebook, squinting at Daphne. "You ntioned sothing about controlling wine?"
***
Atticus felt as though his body was floating through clouds. For a brief mont, he couldn’t tell whether he was dreaming or if reality had turned into a paradise. Frankly, he had no intention of figuring it out too lest it broke the little bubble of peace that he was currently in.
However, when Atticus caught sight of his mother and father, he knew that everything was just a fignt of his own imagination.
After all, how could the dead co back to life in the real world, even if it had turned into a paradisiacal wonderland?
His parents said nothing. They simply smiled at him, warm and welcoming like he had always rembered. For a brief mont, Atticus considered walking towards them. He had missed them. Even through the years of bloodshed, war, and sches, Atticus still longed for his family.
He longed for the bliss that could’ve been his if it hadn’t been robbed from him and his family so suddenly.
"Atticus..." he heard soone say.
At first, Atticus looked at his mother, but the woman simply stood there with a small smile with no intention to speak.
"Atticus..."
There it was again. This ti, however, he finally realized who it was that was calling him.
"Atticus..." It was Daphne. "It’s ti to wake up."
His eyes opened with a slight jolt. At first, the glaring light that stread in through the windows caused Atticus to squint a little. Only after continuous blinking did he slowly get accustod to the bright lights, his vision narrowing down on a face that smiled at him softly.
Her beautiful face brought a delicate smile to Atticus’s lips as well.
"Daphne..." he murmured, wondering if he was still dreaming.
Her fingers gently combed through his hair, a faint reminder that it was not a dream and everything was very much real.
"Good morning, my husband," she answered.
Reviews
All reviews (0)