The Emperor, watching the retreating figure of Alaric, raised a brow and joked, "Is he always this… intense?"
Daphne answered, a touch of warmth in her eyes. "Indeed, Your Majesty. That is my husband's signature."
"You know," Arin said softly, "I have known Alaric all my life. Every trial, every storm… he never lost control. He never wavered."
Daphne's hands paused briefly, the words striking a chord.
"But you…" the Emperor continued, "it only takes a single word from you to stir him. To see that fire, that… storm, I have never witnessed it before. Not with anyone. Not even me."
She nodded, a quiet acknowledgment of his honesty.
"He loves you, Daphne," the Emperor said, his tone earnest and tender. "More than he has ever loved anyone… even himself. And yes, his intensity can overwhelm. His temper, his desire to keep you to himself… sometimes may be hard to bear. But you must understand, this is how he loves. Fiercely. Completely. Without reserve."
