Captive of Time

Chapter 6: The Heir

"Yes, twenty-eight years old; quite old, indeed," Beifeles replied. Considering that elves typically live for around two hundred and fifty years, he was still relatively young, though he stated it intentionally. Those familiar with him knew that Achilles disliked the word "old."

Achilles frowned but chose not to dwell on the offense, continuing, "You are no longer at an age to frivolously consort with dark elf slaves. I've been thinking about your marriage lately. Do you have any thoughts on the matter?"

"I have no particular ideas. You may decide," Beifeles responded evenly, pausing slightly. He had no one he favored and had never intended to rebel against an arranged marriage as depicted in dramas. For him, marriage was as inevitable as inheriting the Walter family name; it was simply something he ought to do. Without such obligations, he felt he had little else to occupy his time.

He had no ambitions of his own and was content to let Achilles handle these matters for him. Achilles presented a prepared dossier to Beifeles, who glanced through it, skimming past many who were merely average-looking among elves. Eventually, he spotted one relatively handsome candidate, too lazy to continue searching, and handed that page back to Achilles. "Let’s go with him."

He hadn’t even registered the man’s name, only noting the elegant hands in the photo, reminiscent of Vanna’s, and thus felt he wouldn’t strongly dislike this person. Generally, an elf's appearance is tied to their power; the stronger they are, the more striking their looks and aura. Thus, Achilles was pleased with the choice—this candidate was the eldest son of the Turner family, currently serving in the military as a promising officer, making him a suitable match for the future elven king.

In truth, anyone in the dossier could barely match Beifeles. Yet, Achilles believed he had lowered his standards, including twice as many candidates, just to ensure his grandson found a partner to his liking. After all, everyone in the dossier was at least a light elf. Achilles felt an uneasy stir regarding the rumors of Beifeles’s affection for a dark elf slave.

If his grandson were a reckless libertine, perhaps he would feel more at ease. But Beifeles remained indifferent in all aspects, never displaying strong preferences. Even though he showed no particular affection for that dark elf, his steadfast companionship for a decade was enough to unsettle Achilles.

Without a doubt, Beifeles was an excellent heir; Achilles could tolerate some indulgences in other areas but could not accept him being attached to a dark elf slave. Fortunately, Beifeles’s demeanor today provided him with a slight sense of relief.

After leaving Achilles's palace, Beifeles returns home in a carriage. Leaning against the pristine carriage wall, he closed his eyes briefly and pressed his forehead. Though he had maintained a calm facade before his grandfather, the visit had indeed troubled him.

Upon returning home, his first act was to roughly toss his tailored white court coat onto the sofa, then turn to Vanna, who had reached out to assist him. With an air of arrogance, he demanded, "Kiss me."

Vanna paused, slightly surprised, raising an eyebrow at the young light elf before him. Beifeles usually avoided kissing, often refusing even during intimate moments, so something unusual must have transpired today.

Beifeles, growing impatient, approached Vanna, grasping his shoulders and kissing him fervently. In truth, Beifeles's reluctance towards Vanna's kisses was not due to some idealistic purity but rather his discomfort with the sensation of breathlessness. When their intimacy first blossomed, he had attempted to kiss several times, only for Vanna to release him when he was on the verge of suffocation.

He hadn’t experienced this level of intimacy with anyone else, so he didn’t know if all kisses felt this way. However, Vanna’s overwhelming passion made him uncomfortable, which is why he had previously resisted.

Yet now, he yearned to be close, to experience that sensation once more. Vanna, not releasing him, tentatively lifted Beifeles, and sensing no resistance, carried him back to the bedroom and onto the bed, continuing to kiss him.

Beifeles typically disapproved of daytime indulgence, believing that daylight was precious and should be spent on meaningful tasks. Thus, his capitulation today was increasingly notable to Vanna.

With one arm wrapped around Beifeles’s waist and the other caressing his golden curls, Vanna kissed him for an extended period before releasing him. After a few tender pecks at the corners of Beifeles’s lips, he propped himself up, gazing down at his breathless master. "Your Highness, are you unhappy today? Did someone irritate you at the council?"

He asked gently, like a devoted dark elf slave attuned to his master's whims. Most elves perceived him as a mere dark elf slave, yet due to his striking appearance and ability to please, he had enjoyed Beifeles's unwavering affection for a decade, serving at his side and claiming the prince’s favor. Even now, he held a status akin to a steward in Beifeles’s residence, or more precisely, a lover.

The light elf guards, well-born themselves, dared not disrespect him, nor did the other servants—fearing the authority he wielded from Beifeles's favor, the legends surrounding his cursed appearance, and his perpetually calm, unapproachable demeanor.

This dark elf, adorned in exquisite garments, lived in Beifeles's palace, sharing the prince’s meals and quarters, resembling another noble yet untouchable prince. However, deep down, the light elves still looked down on him, believing all he possessed was granted by Beifeles, acquired merely through seduction. They thought that should Beifeles’s favor wane, the dark elf’s possessions would vanish, reducing him once more to the lowest form of dark elf slave.

Beifeles remained largely unaware of these opinions or indifferent to them. Upon hearing Vanna’s inquiry, he opened his pale golden eyes and casually replied, "No day at the council has ever pleased me." Vanna rarely inquired about his political affairs, focusing instead on his personal life; nonetheless, it was understandable for Vanna to be concerned about his mood.

Suddenly, his gaze landed on his wrinkled, disheveled white embroidered shirt, and his brow furrowed instinctively. Vanna’s dark red eyes dulled slightly. He knew Beifeles well enough to sense that there was more troubling him than just the council, yet he said nothing further, dutifully helping Beifeles change clothes before cradling him as they exited the bedroom.

Beifeles, genuinely lazy, refused to walk when alone, preferring to lean on Vanna. After lunch, as per his usual habit, he wanted a short nap. Vanna carried him back to bed, entwining his arms around him, kissing him tenderly until Beifeles succumbed to sleep in his embrace.

Beifeles’s light golden lashes fluttered even in slumber, his pink lips slightly parted, revealing the soft hint of his tongue. Perhaps due to their earlier kiss or the warmth of the room, a faint blush adorned his cheeks, lending him an air of innocence.

Vanna’s gaze darkened as he restrained Beifeles's hands and leaned down to kiss him, paying no mind to his master’s instinctive, subdued protests. Instead, he surrendered to his desires, taking what he wished.

Beifeles let out a soft whimper, suddenly mumbling in his sleep, "Van, stop... mmm..." Vanna halted, breathing heavily as he gazed at Beifeles, his expression akin to a predator eyeing its delicious prey. Moments later, he rolled away from Beifeles, settling beside him, holding him close to regulate their breaths.

Beifeles stirred restlessly but soon settled back into a deep sleep. Vanna gently tucked him in, then rose quietly, slipping into the adjacent empty study connected to the bedroom.

In the silence, he traced patterns in the air, dark red mist curling from his fingertips, quickly coalescing into images. From the moment the prince departed for the council that morning, Beifeles's entire itinerary, along with all he had seen and done, unfolded vividly before him.