Lord Theodore's Favorite Ritual
Chapter 51: Husband Charming and Monster.

Chapter 51: Husband Charming and Monster.

Dining hall, The Monster Mansion.

Critic Arley, Critic-Ishire.

Sitting in the dining hall, and having breakfast, Lydia is seated on her usual seat next to the head while Theodore is sitting next to her, leaving his seat, the head seat, leaving it empty because he had insisted on sitting next to her, and not having her on his left or right. He needed to be closer to her.

"Eat more vegetables so the lake won’t try to take you away from me again" he had insisted on his wife eating more vegetables to make her stronger and perhaps drown-resistant, Lydia wondered.

"You talk as if the lake is the assailant, the devil" she chuckled

His eyes would widen if they could "Because it is, it almost took you away from me" he spoke through gritted teeth.

"I fell into it Theo, it didn’t drag me, also I have plans for the lake" she added, eating more vegetables, she never hated it, he just made it seem like a punishment, making her convinced he is the one who doesn’t like it. She narrowed her eyes.

"Plans I hope you can carry out without having to be anywhere near it" he sounded defeated even without a fight because he knew he was wrong.

She glared at him, her eyes knowing "Of course I have to be near it"

A silence ensued, Theodore had it on the tip of his tongue to ask of Red but he would cut Hound a million times rather than make his Gooseberry uncomfortable, he would also hate if she lied to him.

"You have been looking at me as though you have something to let out" he pointed out, it had begun when he threatened to end Mira.

She nodded. "Theodore" she calls

"Yes, Gooseberry" he answered

"You know I love you" she started

"And I’d be unfortunate if I didn’t love you first" he professed

"So we should not keep secrets from each other anymore, we should not be able to, we should feel uncomfortable when there is something we haven’t shared" she continued, her husband’s blue blue orbs darkened.

Whatever this conversation may be, he could feel how it would interrupt their serenity.

He started to say "I do not wish for you to eat cold food, you just focus on eating we can talk-" she cut him off.

"Who was that you killed on our wedding night?" she spoke out

"Lydia" he warned, her name from his mouth making her heart skip a bit.

"I want to know Theo, I deserve to know" she claimed, no longer eating.

His face lifted into a small smile "Why do you think you deserve to know?" he asked

"Because he called my name that night, but you killed him anyway, while I watched" She let out, her tone accusing.

"Yet you managed to have a good night’s sleep" he retorted, picking up a glass of his milk punch.

"I was exhausted for some reason" she mumbled, her brows creased

He nodded "He was a witch" he grumbled

She stopped eating all altogether, eyes wide "That is all the justification for killing him?" she asked, Theodore looked at her and he thought he saw a ting of regret. For what he doesn’t know.

"He intended to touch what is mine" he growled, watching her eyes, studying her.

She started to say "Theo-" he cut her off

"Eat your food, Lydia I am a monster remember" he snarled, picking his napkin to wipe the corner of his lips.

This time the way he called her name didn’t make her shiver or make her heart skip a bit, it made her feel horrible and alone.

She ate the rest of her food in silence while Theodore unconsciously stayed back to make sure she ate and also watched her eat.

He had felt the need to make sure she didn’t forget who he was, what he could do and what he had done. He was Lord Theodore after all because he was her husband charming doesn’t make him all that.

**********

Noon.

Sir Conan’s Estate.

Critic Arley, Critic-Ishire.

Helena woke up finally at noon, she felt peckish and lazy, so she dragged herself into the adjacent room that was his lavatory, she took her bath, cleaned her teeth and did good work with her hair. Satisfied with her skin hair and hidden parts, she stepped out and tiptoed into the other room with her body wrapped in a shawl, she went through her load, picked a simple pink shaded satin, her leg, wearing socks and a sandal before leaving the room, for the sitting room, she had heard movements earlier. A tell that Conan was back.

She sniffed and there was an unmistakably delicious aroma wafting into her senses, the whole building, she tiptoed towards the direction. She came to a view of Conan making lunch, he could cook! Her eyes widened.

He turned to sense a gaze, his fingers gripped the ladle tighter as he outlined her whole self with his gaze, her hair up in a messy bun, no jewellery, her breasts comfortably tucked in but the size still pressurize the dress that loose from the middle of her breast straight down to her lower thighs before another step is attached to it, she looked so simple yet pretty and drool-worthy. He blinked, her flushed skin holding his attention, he met her eyes and they looked hauntingly familiar, she blinked.

"Morning Lady" he grumbled, his eyes back to his cooking.

"This would have been a pleasant morning, had you cooked earlier, I’m ravenous right now, where did you go?"

She had woken up earlier to meet herself alone on a cold bed, he was not in the house as she looked around, then she ended up in the kitchen where she almost emptied his barrel of water.

She hadn’t known he didn’t spend the night in the house and if she had wanted to leave she wouldn’t have been able because he had locked her in.

He had left for the Lord’s mansion to come back this morning to an almost empty barrel of water, one he had to refill.

"Why do you drink so much water?" he called her out

She flipped him off "Why do you not have maids?" she asked in return.

"I don’t need them" he claimed, his hands working.

"I need water" she shrugged

Setting up the dining and then he started to plate the eggs and the bacon.

"Sit" he instructed, in a fluid motion setting food on the table, she kept talking about how she had been thirsty and starved from the journey, and how bad she had felt about not being able to take a proper bath, and then there was the itchy fruit that she had to dodge while still eating it. He intruded on her train of thought.

"Eat" he snarled

Her face squeezed "Manners must be so hard for knights down here, a pity" she sassed.

They are in silence, bacon, bread, egg and milk, there is water and unnecessary napkins on the table, she munches on the bread, her head bobbing as Conan leaves the dining and is back with Chicken next, she snags the warm sides and almost sang.

"Helena we need to set some ground rules, if you are staying here" Conan who had been watching her since pointed out.

Without bothering to meet his eyes she replied "I’m not dwelling here, do I seem like a masochist to you"

"Excellent, when are you leaving" the sentence left a bitter taste at the back of his throat.

"I’m leaving when I get a nice house" she explained "A cottage maybe?" she added, tilting her head.

He blinked "I see like a witches cottage" he spoke.

"A magic practitioner yes" and then she started laughing, a weird and nervous one, the conversation just turned hot, and she almost exposed herself.

"Houses in Critic Arley are expensive," he told her surely, but she is a stubborn one because she replied "Let me be the judge of that myself"

"Alright then, I’m leaving for work, drop the keys at the threshold, there’s a..." he trails off, a frown marring his fine face. Is he now going to trust his house with a complete stranger who might be a witch?

She could steal, or destroy his house, his eyes narrowed.

"You would leave me ?!" she screeched his eyes clashed with hers

"Alone?!" she added subtly "I don’t know anywhere around here" she continued to his prolonged silence.

"You are merely looking for a way to further cling to me" he yapped with a smirk before adding "I will take you to the Alderman, he shall have someone show you the houses around, and then you can purchase"

"I see, that is kind of you, Sir obnox... Sir knight" she revealed

"My name is Conan" he growled, irritated at her not knowing his name.

"Yes I know, those bandits called it the last time" she divulged.

"Why don’t you?" he invited.

She met his black eyes with hers "Because we are not close enough, to mention each other’s names"

"Ishelm Culture?" he asked as a jab but it was true to her people.

"My people’s culture" she admitted.

He nodded standing up "I see, get dressed, I’m leaving soon" he instructed.

"This is how I shall go" she declared

"This... oh... ok then" he faltered before nodding, leaving to change for the day.

Helena watched his back with a frown. What is improper with her outfit?

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