Lord Theodore's Favorite Ritual
Chapter 199: Unwinding With The Viscount.

Chapter 199: Unwinding With The Viscount.

Night.

Downside Tavern, Critic Arley.

*******************

He couldn’t breathe, he needed air and the whole of his mansion provided none, guilt, anxiety, and underlying anger ruled his blood and he couldn’t lie next to Lydia like he was fine, so he took a hat and headed downstairs.

The grand double doors of the mansion swung open with a creak, revealing his tall figure as he strode out into the chilly night. The cold air bit at his skin, but Theodore barely noticed, his mind a tumultuous sea of emotions. His long golden locks, that was usually neatly tied back, now tumbled freely over his shoulders, it caught the pale moonlight sharpening all his edges. He pulled his hat low over his brow, partly to shield himself from the cold and partly to hide his eyes, that were suddenly burning with anger and stinging with unshed tears.

He couldn’t believe moments ago, their mansion had echoed with the sound of a fierce argument because of the utter silence permeating the air now.

Lydia’s eyes had been filled with so much hurt, and her accusation about him of not trusting her had been partially true but the reasoning she thought he had behind keeping things from her was totally different. The accusation struck deep, leaving him feeling afraid, angry, and guilty all at once. He loved her dearly, yet the words they had exchanged hung heavily in the air, poisoning the space they once filled with laughter and love.

He didn’t think her as a weaker or lesser human, he didn’t think she was undeserving of every burden he carries, but he remembers because they’re his burden, if nature wanted them to share the burden she would have been given visions of their past life too and he wouldn’t be as miserable but this fight was his for both of them and her father was a sore topic even more than his mother is.

Seeking solace, he made his way to the stables. The familiar scent of hay and horses was a small comfort in the turmoil of his thoughts. He saddled a horse, a magnificent chestnut steed, with practiced ease. As he mounted, he felt a pang of guilt, running away was not the answer, but he needed to clear his head, to escape the oppressive weight of the confrontation.

He knew she hadn’t been sleeping when he left but he didn’t know how to talk to her. She was a strong woman and he wished she’d never think otherwise but his actions obviously make her feel weaker and he hated that.

He rode through the gates of the mansion, the hooves of his horse striking a rhythmic beat against the cobblestones. As he rode on ahead, Critic Arley laid quiet under the blanket of night, the usual bustle of the day replaced by an eerie silence. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat echoing the turmoil within him.

Someone took a ride and followed him, he knew it had to be Hound, the man never sleeps until afternoon unlike everyone else.

He felt him coming after him but he didn’t have the energy to entertain the compassionate knight so he ignored him and continued his ride. As a soft wet wind blew his way, he increased his speed trying to clear his head however way it took.

Aimlessly, he wandered through the deserted streets, the familiar sights of the city passing by in a blur.

This is his land, his legacy, his people, his reputation.

After what felt like hours, he found himself outside a tavern. The warm glow of its windows beckoned him, a stark contrast to the cold, lonely night. This was a place he knew well, a place he had frequented in his younger, freer days before the responsibilities of his past life and the opportunity to build something came.

Dismounting, he tied his horse to a post and took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. He pushed open the door and stepped inside, the warmth and noise of the tavern washed over him like a wave. It was crowded, filled with the murmur of conversation and the clinking of tankards, yet he felt a strange sense of isolation.

He was not like any of them, free and without the past mistakes weighing them down.

He approached the bar and caught the bartender’s eye. "A drink," he ordered, his voice rough with emotion. The bartender, recognizing the lord, nodded and quickly poured a strong ale. Theodore took the tankard and retreated to a corner, seeking the solitude within the crowd.

He shook his head. "Brandy please"

The bartender held his sky blue gaze. "Of course my lord"

The bartender went to get the brandy, he picked up the ale.

As he took his first sip, the bitter taste of the ale mirrored the bitterness in his heart. He stared into the dark liquid, seeing not his reflection but the image of his wife, her eyes brimming with tears. The anger that had driven him out dissipated, leaving only the raw ache of guilt and regret. He had come here to escape, but there was no escaping the truth: he needed to make things right.

He had to give her something, he needed her trust else that would be what his enemies would exploit.

Lost in his thoughts, he sat in the dimly lit corner of the tavern, nursing his drink and his wounds. The night was long, but it would pass. And when it did, he vowed to return to his wife, to face the issues they had left unresolved, and to rebuild the trust that had been shaken. For now, he allowed himself this moment of solitude, a brief respite before the dawn.

He loved her, he wanted her safe and knowing things the enemies could punish her for was scary to him, he didn’t want her to worry too much as he’d rather worry for both of them, he has gotten the opportunity

In silence he took his brandy grateful Hound gave him space, he needed it.

"I never thought I would see you here again" a voice engaged him.

He glanced to his side and caught the forest green eyes he has come to know well, Victore Reyes. "Why?" Theodore asked.

"Because you are in love" he replied inviting himself next to the lord.

"And are you not in love with your wife too?" Theodore countered.

Victore’s face hardened as little as his handsomness allowed. "Prince, I will burn Critic-Ishire if she was not in it" he declared gruffly.

Theodore’s eyes darkened. "I have warned you about those disgusting threats"

When Victore merely chuckled. "This is my kingdom and if you ever wish to do that, you shall have to build yours or have everything you love destroyed" Theodore laid out.

"They would be nothing left for you because, Cesita was not" Victore promised, if he would destroy this city because he lost her, then he only had himself to lose and then he wouldn’t mind.

Theodore took a deep breathe, "Why then are you here?"

"She was crying" he let out through a soft breathe.

"And you never had to be a sensible human" Theodore smirked as much as his muddled and slightly tipsy head would allow him.

"I do not know what to do" Victore confessed.

Theodore nodded, after taking a sip again he advised. "Well you could start by burning what made her cry"

Victore stretched his neck. "Well that is rather unfortunate, because I did" his confession.

Theodore chuckled, a breathable silence settling over them, Theodore pointed for the bartender to offer Victore something but the man refused. Victore was a man even Theodore would call beautiful even without a sword to his throat, the man had a look that rivaled the angels and he carried it like it was nothing, he instead tries to be normal all the while being too much.

"Who do you think the muckraker is talking about?" Theodore asked after minutes of solitude.

Victore hummed. "The leech?" he continued when Theodore nodded. "I believe he is not here yet, if he was we would know" he added.

At Theodore contemplative silence, Victore added. "And I genuinely don’t care much about his coming"

"It is my burden" Theodore bellowed an agreement.

Hours passed before Victore shook Theodore out of his lulling head.

"Sleeping off will be bad for you, go home" he nudged the lord, Theodore blinked before running his palm over his face.

"Go home and apologize, she would not cry if she did not care" he advised Theodore with a sigh.

Victore nodded, his eyes glistening with what seemed to be adoration. "We are nothing alike, I wonder how you manage to become husband charming to her"

Theodore placed a plam on the viscounts shoulders after standing up. "I am not in the dark as much as you are, Victore, a coachman would drop you off"

Victore looked at him like he was insane, "You know I do not need it"

"Use the ride to think of something sensible to say" Theodore offered.

Victore’s lips twitched before he nodded. He needed to think.