Note: Chapter contains mild suggestive scenes.
Chapter 103:
Persistent Attachment
“How dare you speak to me this way!” Charlotte snapped, her always demure face flushed with rage, “I am a princess, as well as your fiancée!”
“Do you have any other bruises? Answer me honestly.” Clarence asked, looking down at Silas, who immediately looked away.
Charlotte’s rage only increased with Clarence’s blatant disregard, “You told me nothing, Clarence. Why else would I have come here?!” Charlotte began, her expression dark as she attempted to refute Clarence. However, as she spoke, Basch pushed her farther behind his back, as if protecting her. “Why are you treating this creature like this? Why don’t you kill him already!” The princess was irate, her cheeks flushed a burning red as she failed to hold in her thoughts as she shouted.
“Stay quiet, Lady Charlotte.” Basch said in an irrefutable tone, silencing Charlotte.
Charlotte’s heart was still beating hard in her chest, but she could feel a cool air emanating from Clarence, a feeling she had not felt from the young man before. It made the hairs on the back of her neck stand, and when she saw Basch’s expression, she knew something was wrong, particularly with Clarence.
“Did you harm him?” Clarence said, ignoring Charlotte’s earlier words as he stared at Basch, his eyes focused on the knight’s face with a murderous rage.
Basch stared at the prince, knowing his position as Charlotte’s protector, he could only say in a low tone. “I did.” His words were neither challenging nor dismissive, only stated as they were with little emotion, as if he had dropped a common porcelain tea cup on the ground. He had been strictly trained how to deal with nobles, particularly nobles that had intentions to harm his lady, but he would not survive a fight with the royal family’s heir.
Whatever punishment the prince gave, he would bear it in his lady’s place, regardless of the consequences.
Without a word in response, Clarence stepped closer to Charlotte’s knight.
Charlotte grabbed Basch’s arm, attempting to stop her future husband, but Basch only pushed her back again, closing his eyes as he braced for impact.
Slap.
The slap echoed through the small jail cell, ringing in Charlotte’s ears as she stared up at Basch’s turned head, where his cheek began to quickly turn red. His expression was still flat, but knowing her knight, she could see a deep hatred of the young man burning in his gaze.
Clarence lowered his hand, stepping back at the surface of his palm turned red. “If you act like this again, your knight will not be on the receiving end of my hand.” Clarence smiled shallowly as he stared at Charlotte under Basch’s shoulder. “I do hope you understand.” His words were full of mockery.
Without a word in response, Charlotte’s knight bowed his head as he then turned to the side and rested a rough hand on Charlotte’s back, effectively keeping himself between Charlotte and Clarence as he led the young princess out of the cell. The guards bowed and opened the door, stepping out of the way as Charlotte’s knight practically pushed her out of the room, Clarence watched them leave with a stiff expression, impatient for their figures to disappear upstairs, where they belonged.
Once he was alone with Silas, the prince’s anger faded a noticeable degree, alarming Silas as the chill in the air receded. The burning blue hue still rested in his eyes, illuminating Clarence’s face with a pale glow as he looked over Silas.
“What did they say to you?” Clarence spat, staring down at Silas with a deep frown, his gaze piercing, “And don’t ignore me this time. Or you will regret it.”
Full of fatigue and irritation, Silas felt as if he were in the middle of a lover’s quarrel. He could barely muster the energy to respond in a weak voice, “They asked my name.” After he spoke, Silas grimaced, shutting his eyes as he restrained a groan, the pain beginning to flare in his throat the more he spoke.
Clarence leaned forward, his face mere inches away from Silas’s face. “Did he do this?” Clarence’s fingers rested next to Silas’s bruised chin, the chill of his fingers traveling to Silas’s bloodless face.
A chill traveled down Silas’s spine. His eyes were half-open, but he could see the fixation in Clarence’s stare. His eyes burrowed through Silas in such a way that they seemed to only focus on him. His chin and neck were still sore from earlier, but he felt the prince’s stare burrow into him until he could no longer stay silent, “Yes.”
We’re sorry for MTLers or people who like using reading mode, but our translations keep getting stolen by aggregators so we’re going to bring back the copy protection. If you need to MTL please retype the gibberish parts.
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“Kfii wf ktja tf vlv, ktfgf tf abemtfv sbe…” Jijgfcmf’r ilqr gbrf lcab j rwlif, tlr iluta qlcx ilqr aegclcu eqkjgvr atf wbgf tf rajgfv ja Vlijr. Llr fsfr gfwjlcfv mtlii jr lmf; tbkfnfg, “Lf vjgfv ab wjg ws qijsatlcu, joafg jii.”
Staring at the prince, Silas could no longer hide his disgust as he scowled, staring at the young prince with a look of sheer repulsion. “I am not your plaything, child.” Silas’s brows were deeply furrowed, and it gave the prince the image of a cute cat puffing up its fur when it’s angry or scared, much like Silas now.
However, Clarence was displeased by Silas’s aversive attitude. He quickly grabbed his chin again and faced Silas forward, his nose brushing against Silas’s in an intimate posture. “Do you hate me that much?” It was as if the prince was asking himself aloud, wondering if the elf really did hate him as much as he hated Silas.
Unable to move away from the psychotic prince, Silas felt weaker than he had before. A chill ran down Silas’s spine. He did not want to admit it, but he was scared.
Holding Silas’s face, Clarence stared at the beads of sweat dripping down Silas’s chin, faintly inhaling the scent of wild plants on Silas’s breath as he held his face close to the elf’s, his gaze falling on the sizeable bruise on the other man’s chin. Staring at the bruise so intently, a thought came to the prince’s mind, a thought he found very pleasing.
If I can’t prove he’s mine like this, I must do something else then. Clarence thought to himself, bringing him only an inch away from Silas’s face. He held it tight as Silas weakly tried to pull himself away, smirking at his little toy’s attempts to run. Without a thought, Clarence parted his lips, opening his mouth to expose his warm red tongue. Slowly, he raised the tip of his tongue and passed it across the surface of Silas’s chin, licking up traces of sticky sweat and the taste of dirt, filling up his mouth with an incredibly sweet aftertaste that made him desire more. He kept his eyes trained on Silas’s as he did so, enjoying the fear in Silas’s eyes.
Unwillingly, he retracted his tongue, feeling an uncomfortable burning sensation fill his chest and lower body.
To Silas, the prince’s act was degrading and appalling. Never in his life, even in his marital affairs, had Silas been licked in such a manner. Silas attempted to move back, but the chains around his wrists restricted his movements, only allowing him to awkwardly bend his spine back as the lingering stickiness of the warm saliva rested on his cheek. He gagged, turning his head to the side as he fought back a wave of sudden nausea, causing his mouth to wet with saliva. Silas coughed, fighting back against his stomach as he attempted to catch his breath.
“If you’re going to do this, just kill me.” Silas said in a weak tone, his eyes barely maintaining their hold on Clarence’s figure. “You have a wife. If you’re so frustrated, take it up with her.” Silas hissed in response, the moist feeling of the prince’s tongue still trailing against his cheek.
Clarence retracted his face and stood tall, feeling strange the longer he stayed with the elf. He was angry Silas had brought up Charlotte at such a time, trying to distract from their earlier affair, but he could only reply in response. “Why? Degrading such a lowly being is far more entertaining.” The prince laughed aloud, joined by no one as he smiled brightly, his childish features highlighted by his innocent laughter. “You’re too amusing, Silas.” Clarence placed a warm hand on Silas’s thin chest, appreciating the thin, firm layer of muscle hidden under Silas’s shirt, “But you should get used to this. It’s only going to get better.”
There was nothing Silas could say in response to the prince’s words. When the prince repeated his name, he felt a vicious shiver trail down his spine, causing all of the hairs on his arms to stand tall, filling his body with a frigid chilliness that chilled him to the bone.
Beckoned by a palace servant, Clarence reluctantly left the cell, turning his head back to Silas with a victorious smile, enjoying the false victory he had concocted in that sick mind of his. Refusing to look at him, Silas stared down, attempting to make his presence as small as possible, lest the prince were to turn back around and try to lick him again like the dog he was.
Silas listened as the door to the cell slammed shut. Hearing the prince’s retreating figure, he let out a large sigh he had been holding, slowly closing his eyes, full of fatigue as he thought to himself, Something here isn’t right. The way Clarence treats me… it’s abnormal. I can’t put my finger on it, but he’s been acting strange since I was captured. What is he trying to pull? In reality, Silas could not admit to himself the foreboding feeling that Clarence felt something different than hate towards him, a feeling much, much stronger that was much more difficult to hide.
Or maybe Clarence did hate him still, but the hate he once held for the elf had twisted into something far more demented than either of them could have imagined.
…
Malcolm looked at Alywin, smiling with the same, gentle smile he always had. This time, though, there was a murderous air dripping from his words. Malcolm still stood near the door, the main avenue of escape, as if he were guarding it with his tall, sturdy frame. Alywin refused to return Malcolm’s gaze. He averted his eyes to the window of his bedroom, the only other way to escape, other than screaming and hoping someone would hear him.
“We never used to be like this.” Malcolm said with a sorrowful sigh. “We used to be so close. We told each other everything.”
“If you wanted us to stay close, maybe you shouldn’t have murdered my friend?!” Alywin angrily retorted back, his eyes and cheeks growing red as he tried to restrain his anger and fear.
“You know why I did that.” Malcolm said, slowly approaching Alywin, who retreated backward with every step Malcolm took, “You can have your trysts, but don’t try to run from me. I won’t allow it.” His golden eyes were bright, full of an unspoken obsession as his gaze fell on Alywin’s retreating figure. “I’ve already gotten rid of one obstacle. I won’t allow any others.”
Alwyin stepped back again, but as he moved his left foot back, it hit the edge of his bed. He quickly lost his balance and fell backwards, falling flat on his back against the soft fabric of the mattress. His body bobbed slightly as Malcolm walked forward, pinning the other man down with his legs on either side of Alywin’s hips. With his fingers, he trailed down Alywin’s arms to his wrists, where he pushed the other man deeper into the mattress, their noses nearly touching as Malcolm lowered his face down to meet Alywin’s flushed face.
“Let go of me, Malcolm!” Alywin thrashed and squirmed, moving each limb of his body to loosen the tight grip Malcolm had on him, but there was no escape. He could only lay flat, looking up at the man that was once small and frail, now towering over him like a stone statue, cold.
Alywin was afraid of pain, Malcolm knew that. As a child, Alywin suffered from a variety of pains, hunger pains from starving for days on end, beatings from shopkeepers when he was caught stealing, and even the pains of the cold that ate away at his thin clothes. Seeing his love so disobedient, Malcolm wanted to punish Alywin, just enough to make him remember the consequences of his actions.
Malcolm opened his mouth, exposing his straight, white teeth as he moved towards Alywin’s exposed collarbone. With his nose, he pushed aside the unbuttoned collar of his white shirt and pressed his mouth against the base of Alywin’s left shoulder.
“No! Let me go, you animal!” Alywin fought again, yelling at the immobile man.
Malcolm chuckled coldly as he bit down with his teeth, pressing them down into the other man’s soft skin like a kiss.
Such a move, Alywin was not expecting it at all. Feeling the pain of the bone pressing against his flesh, Alywin let out a pained groan, pressing his palm against his mouth to restrain a yell. Malcolm rested his teeth on the skin, pressing deep enough to taste blood. He bit until he was satisfied, retracting his teeth as he licked the surface of his front teeth with his tongue, licking away the blood that had smeared there. The fresh blood brightened his lips with a rosy tint in such a vile fashion that Alywin could no longer stand to look at him.
“Leave! Now!” Tears mixed with sweat, pouring down Alywin’s face, flushed with shame, pain, and anger. As Malcolm released his grip on the younger man’s wrist, Alywin lifted his hands and pushed him away, shoving the duke a step away from him as he crawled backwards on the bed. His cufflinks had long been removed, making his cuffs fall, exposing the red marks where Malcolm’s hands had once been, damaging that pale white skin. “I never want to see you again!”
Watching Alywin, Malcolm sighed quietly to himself as he adjusted his wrinkled shirt lapel, feeling the soft, warm temperature lingering on his skin from where he and Alywin touched. He yearned to be closer to him, yet he failed to close the gap between them. “I’ll leave for now.” Malcolm pushed back his bangs with a thoughtful gaze as he stared at Alywin again, this time, his golden gaze was piercing. “I will visit you soon. Do remember to let me in. Don’t make me sneak in again, or your punishment will be much worse.”
His words were almost mocking, but Alywin could hear the threat in his words. There was no escape. Wordlessly, he only stared at the duke as Malcolm finally turned to the door and left, leaving Alywin alone in the dark room.
Seconds passed, leaving Alywin to sit still, his heart pounding with dread at the thought of Malcolm returning. The man saw power in his grasp, knowing what could be his. It was too dangerous to wait any longer.
I’m no longer safe in my own home. Alywin stared at his wrists, looking at the reddened marks with blurry eyes, full of tears, as he lifted his left arm to wipe his eyes. Theo’s no longer here, and it’s too dangerous to look for Clarence for help right now. Sucking in a deep breath, the dark brown hue in Alywin’s eyes dimmed as he thought. Theo warned me about this. He was right. I should have listened. And now he’s gone. Alywin brought his knees up to his chest as he cried quietly, a hand tightly clutching his collarbone as blood leaked through his fingers.
…
Maeir and the twins were treated by Adora’s father, allowing them some comfort knowing they were surrounded by their own kind, in a place where they would no longer worry if they were welcome or not. The night was slow for Adora, who had drunk too much. The more she drank, the less it burned down her throat, giving her an odd sense of comfort in her numbness. It was not until she could no longer fight the tears that she was led home by her mother, shocked at the poor state of her usually strong daughter.
The night passed quickly for some, and as the winter sun rose, so did the escaped elven family. They were greeted by a large breakfast spread sent directly to their room, allowing them time to return to society after their horrific ordeal.
“Cirdan, don’t eat all that! You’ll get sick!” Cirdan did not waste any time before he began to eat, throwing food in his mouth as if he were starving. Aurelia chided him and took some of the food out of his hands, reminding him to eat slowly.
“I can finally fill my stomach again! I’m going to eat all this and the table!” Cirdan nearly cried as he bit into a flaky, buttery bread confection.
Maeir watched the pair begin to dig into their bread, fruit, and other pastries with a weak frown, “Both of you, eat slowly.” She used the bread knife to cut one of the loaves of bread into thin slices, putting a piece of bread on the prepared plates before she gave the twins each a plate. “Don’t eat the bread by itself, eat some cheese. You need to regain your energy.”
They had been in the dungeon for nearly a month, long enough for their bodies to fall weak from lack of vitamins. The watery soup and stale bread only padded their stomachs, doing nothing to strengthen their weakening bodies. Now that they had escaped, they could feel the mana recirculating with the fresh nutrients, warming their bodies with a new feeling of strength and resolve.
After the three had eaten, Maeir stood up from the table, looking out the window at the peaceful, bustling neighborhood. Humans and elves intermingled in the streets with no care, many stopping to buy wares at the stalls with smiles. It was a far cry from the solitude they had been subjected to for the last decade, moving from place to place within the continent to avoid capture by the Yursinean royal family.
When was the last time we lived in peace like this… in civilization? Cirdan and Aurelia had a very different childhood from Silas, and while Maeir tried to protect them, there was only so much she could do.
As Maeir looked out the window, deep in thought, Aurelia wiped her hands on the napkin in her lap and said aloud to Maeir, “Mom… What are we going to do about Silas?” She had vague memories of his face, his young pale face, his long blonde hair, and his smiling face as he stood next to Emmeline. The man she saw in the carriage partially resembled her memories, overlapping like intertwining threads.
Cirdan still felt bitter. He stared off to the side, his cheeks reddening as he thought of the same man, the man who had abandoned them again, but this time, it was to save them. The memories of the past were dim, but that memory still played within his mind, making him wish he had stood up, taken his place instead.
Maeir turned to her two youngest children and sighed quietly to herself. She walked and stood next to Aurelia, resting her calloused hand on the top of her daughter’s head of freshly-washed blonde hair.
“First, you two need to recover your strength. We can’t do anything in our current state. After that, we will make a plan.” Maeir smiled weakly, her face wrinkled with fatigue. Aurelia nodded her head, returning her smile to her mother.
Maeir then turned away, knowing that once she was recovered, she would immediately return to the Yursear kingdom to save her oldest child. Without Cirdan and Aurelia. She would never say a word to them about her plans; however, because they would never let her leave alone. She felt comfortable leaving her children, now adults, though they would always be children in her eyes, under the care of the people of this country. She knew for a fact that they would be safe and happy here, but Maeir would never be able to live with the fact that she had lost her son again.
If he was no longer in this world, Maeir would find his body and give him a proper funeral.
But Maeir did not want to think of that possibility.
They had all suffered too much for that to be.
“Mom?” Cirdan’s gentle call brought her out of her thoughts.
“Why don’t you both go get some more rest? You both look tired.” Maeir said, her eyes warmly scanning her two children.
As Aurelia tried to refute her mom, but Maeir left no room for argument, leaving before Aurelia could finish her sentence. The door to the room was quickly shut, and the twins were left alone in the spacious inn room again.
Aurelia sighed, looking at the closed door forlornly, “Hey, Cirdan, do you think-”
A thump from behind her stopped Aurelia’s sentence. As she turned around to investigate the sound, she found Cirdan wrapping himself in the bed covers of her bed.
“Cirdan, get off my bed!” Aurelia shouted, racing towards him.
“Let me have it for a few hours! My bed squeaks every time I move a single muscle!” Cirdan cried as he held a death grip on the blanket Aurelia tried to pull off him.
The twins fought rabidly, still full of fatigue as Maeir made her way through the inn to find Eva, her brows knitted and her hands clenched at her sides, striding down the long halls of the inn with newfound determination to save her eldest child.
…
And that’s a wrap! This was an easy chapter writing-wise, but difficult mentally due to all the switches, but I hope it all still has a cohesive thought, as it was my handiwork this week! hehe Though I’ve noticed YMtK mtls really nice into Spanish (not Japanese….)! That’s absolutely wild! >y< While we’re here… my side project work has finally come to fruition 😀 See my new twitch channel here and my youtube channel here. I’m working on some video editing now and subtitling translations… it’s awful.
YMtK will stay on its schedule as our main project, but I’m just enjoying getting my other projects going!
On a more serious note, Hunny and I wanted to make a clear statement that we do not condone Malcolm or Clarence’s behaviors this chapter. They are wrong. Consent is important, and the absence of a no is not a “yes”, regardless of gender.
Thank you all for reading and enjoying YMtK. See you next week!
Thank you.I really enjoyed these interaction between our MC and ML…?At lease, I think they may end up in love.I don’t know how they will overcome this period of discontent.
Thanks so much for reading! I am excited for Clare’s future “redemption” too! I think he’s going to strongly regret what he’s been doing later 😂😂😂 but only time will tell 😌