Chapter 540: Arlan And Philip

Chapter 540: Arlan And PhilipOnce they finished their meal, Arlan carefully collected the empty utensils onto a wooden tray, a chore he carried out with a quiet efficiency that spoke of routine. He then retrieved a dress for Oriana, one that Roman had arranged per Arlan’s meticulous instructions.

Placing the garment gently on the bed, Arlan turned to Oriana, who was seated on the edge, "You can change into these. I’ll be in my study," he instructed, his tone gentle but distant.

Oriana met his gaze, her eyes reflecting a hint of concern. "It’s late. Aren’t you sleeping?"

"I have some work to do," Arlan replied, his gaze lingering on her briefly before he turned away. "Sleep well," and quietly exited the chamber.

As she watched him depart, Oriana couldn’t shake off a lingering sense of disappointment. Today had been tumultuous, filled with a rare display of anger from Arlan. And though the storm had seemingly passed, his newfound tranquility left her unsettled. There was a comfort in their banter, in his teasing and playful annoyances but his silence felt like uncharted territory.

Oriana changed into the nightdress and slipped into bed, the soft fabric embracing her tired body. Lying on one side, she found herself staring at the empty space beside her, a silent question echoing in her mind. ’Is he not going to come to sleep?’

Inside the study, Arlan sat in his chair, leaning back and closing his eyes to rest. Though he was calm on the surface, he was working hard to control that dragon which had shown up after so many days all of a sudden.

’I have still not recovered, so how did he show up? He is weak as well but wants to show his presence and his anger. The moment we heard she wanted to go to the Demon realm, he changed. I wonder what he has witnessed in the Demon realm in the past that he is scared of. How can I make him talk? Is there a way?’

Lost in his musings, Arlan drifted into an uneasy sleep, his rest interrupted by the haunting echo of a familiar voice.

"Little flower, I am back," the voice whispered, it’s both comforting and enigmatic.

In his dream, Arlan heard the familiar voice, the dream that was familiar as well. From behind the thin curtain of gold, he could see a woman clad in dark clothes walking towards him, her face yet to come in his sight.

"Today, my friend from the heavens realm, the deity of water, offered me a gift. It is divine water from the forbidden oasis in the celestial realm which no one can easily acquire. I accepted it, believing it may aid in nurturing my little flower."

As she knelt in front and her features gradually came into focus, revealing a visage both familiar and hauntingly beautiful.

A pair of enchanting hazel eyes staring at him, their gentle warmth reaching across the divide of that golden veil, the locks of red blond hair moving along the breeze, a gentle smile on her lips that could rival the sun’s radiance.

"Do you want it?" she whispered, her tone akin to coaxing a child with a sweet treat. With delicate hands, she poured the water into the vessel cradling the flower. "I want you to grow stronger and shine even more. Mother would be pleased to see I am caring for you so attentively."

She closed the bottle and spoke again, "I will come again once I report to father. Wait for me," her fingers caressed that golden curtain like existence for a while and she left, leaving him staring at her retreating back.

Arlan opened his eyes in surprise.

"Oriana," he murmured in astonishment, the pieces of a fragmented puzzle falling into place. ’The woman in my dream, the voice that has comforted me through the ages... it was Oriana from her past life.’

Running a hand through his hair in frustration, Arlan grappled with the profound implications of this realization. "Those were the memories of the Dragon’s soul. He knew her long before I did. They have been entwined since her previous existence, and he recognized her the moment we first crossed paths. He chose her even before I did and all along I thought it was me who chose her first.’

Frustrated sigh left his lips as he thought for a while. ’Past is past and in present she is my wife first. Nothing can change this fact and this Dragon can wait for his turn.’

He stood up from the chair and stepped out of the study only to head back to his chamber. "I don’t have to stay away from her because of some enraged Dragon’s soul. She is my wife."

Though he had accepted his Dragon, the thought that she first belonged to him was important to him.

Upon entering, he noticed the lamps still casting a soft glow, illuminating Oriana’s form tucked beneath the blankets, her back turned towards the door. Assuming she had drifted off into slumber, Arlan moved with gentle caution, slipping under the covers beside her.

With a subtle exertion of his power, he extinguished the lamps, enveloping them in a comforting darkness. Contemplating whether to draw her into an embrace, he ultimately decided against it, ’I might disturb her sleep. The entire day she was busy and must have been exhausted.’

Resigned to his own thoughts, Arlan turned his gaze towards the ceiling, preparing to drift into sleep alone. Yet, before he could settle, he felt a shift in the bed, a delicate form inching closer to him. A hand gently encircled his waist, a head finding its place upon his shoulder.

He didn’t have to think much to know what was going on. He moved his hand to let her rest her head comfortably on it and turned to face her, wrapping his hand around her, making her sleep comfortably in his comforting embrace.

No word was said between the two but both could understand each other even in that silence. Oriana buried her face against the crook of his neck and fell asleep comfortably, before murmuring. "Good night."

Light smile painted on his lips, knowing she willingly embraced him. "Good night."

The next morning when she woke up, he was not next to her, making her wonder why he woke up so early. ’He must be around somewhere,’ thinking she closed her eyes and fell asleep again.

Arlan was sitting in the chair inside the dimly lit chamber, looking at the old man laying in the bed, his chilling gaze fixed on him. If not for the thought about his wife, he almost had an urge to pull out his sword and kill this man, but killing someone helpless was never his forte.

Waiting for a while, finally there was a moment in the bed.

"Enjoying the hospitality of the Royal family, Philip Verner?" Arlan’s voice cut through the silence, dripping with disdain.

Philip, still groggy from sleep, recognized the voice and opened his eyes to meet Arlan’s icy gaze. Arlan, though outwardly composed, an undercurrent of fury simmered beneath the surface, palpable to anyone in the room.

Undeterred by the hostility in Arlan’s demeanor, Philip mustered the strength to sit up in bed. "Are you disappointed that I didn’t die, and now you’re here to finish what you started?"

"I am disappointed that you still draw breath, staining the air with the presence of a murderer," Arlan retorted, his tone laced with venom.

"Then perhaps you should fulfill your unfinished business," Philip suggested defiantly.

Arlan’s response was measured, his calm demeanor belying the intensity of his emotions. "My business?" he echoed, his words laden with a quiet menace. "Are you absolutely certain?"

Philip regarded Arlan with a solemn gaze, his voice tinged with regret. "Didn’t you want to kill me all these years after seeing me killing your mother? That day in the village, I just made it quick for you."

"Should I offer you my gratitude then?" Arlan’s response was cold, his words cutting through the air with a razor-sharp edge.

Closing his eyes briefly, Philip collected himself before meeting Arlan’s gaze once more, his expression pleading.

"Whatever happened in the past, I am guilty of it, and you may exact whatever punishment you see fit. But my granddaughter—she is innocent. She has suffered enough due to my misdeeds. I beg you to spare her."

Arlan’s silence was palpable, his eyes boring into Philip with an intensity that spoke volumes. "She is the reason you still draw breath, Philip Verner. As for letting her go? I can’t do that."

Arlan’s words made Philip Anxious for Oriana, "She is innocent..."

"And she is mine," Arlan declared, his assertion leaving Philip stunned.

"What do you mean?" Philip demanded, disbelief evident in his voice.

"You heard correctly," Arlan confirmed, his tone unwavering. "Though she may be your granddaughter, she is not like you."

"And what are your intentions towards her?" Philip pressed, his apprehension mounting.

"That is none of your concern," Arlan retorted sharply. "I am here today only to warn you not to tell her what happened that day when I captured you in that village. Let her believe that I am the one who tried to kill you."

Philip regarded Arlan with a furrowed brow, struggling to grasp the complexities of the prince’s intentions.

Sensing Philip’s confusion, Arlan offered a candid explanation. "She desires to uncover the truth of the past, whether you are guilty of murder or not. In search of truth, she might do something reckless put her own life in danger. I have tried to stop her, claiming that I have avenged my mother by trying to kill you the same way you did to my mother and this matter is resolved for me. But if you were to reveal the truth of that day, and let her know I haven’t even got the chance to avenge my mother, she would be driven to seek answers once more. If you value her safety, then shut your mouth and let her think what she has known.

Silence enveloped the chamber as Philip wrestled with Arlan’s words. He knew Oriana’s stubborn nature all too well—once she set her mind to something, she would pursue it relentlessly.

"You do not wish her to go that witch once more, do you?" Arlan asked, making Philip’s face turn ashen.

"She is dead, isn’t she?" Philip asked, fear evident in his eyes.

"In the world of supernaturals, even dead ones can be sought for," Arlan replied.

"Don’t...Please do not let her seek for that witch," Philip begged.

"Although I have managed to stall her for a time, you know she is unpredictable and persistent," Arlan spoke, "If you are trully worried for her, then do as you are told."

Philip studied Arlan, puzzled by the prince’s unexpected concern for Oriana’s well-being. "Why do you care for her?"

"That is not for you to know," Arlan replied tersely, rising from his seat. "Just remember what I have told you." With that, Arlan departed, leaving Philip to contemplate his words.

Arlan returned to his own chamber, where Oriana still slumbered peacefully. Sliding back into bed, he drew her closer, enveloping her like a soft pillow.

’Only if you were not stubborn and willful, I would not have to worry about you.’