Lord Theodore's Favorite Ritual
Chapter 63: Theodore Knowing Lydia In All Of His Life.

Chapter 63: Theodore Knowing Lydia In All Of His Life.

Conan stood conflicted and confused about what just happened.

She bought him a gift.

She went out today.

She waited for him.

She ate what he made and made him choke.

She tried to give him the gift but carelessly touched his sword and then she got wounded.

It wasn’t her intention to get wounded and she is probably in pain now.

He sighed heavily his frown prominent.

He sat on the couch and looked at what she had bought for him, its shape made it obvious, that it was a sword sheath. It’s packaging.

It is meticulously made from high-quality mahogany wood, and the sword sheath boasts intricate filigree patterns inlaid with glistening silver. A polished onyx gem decorates the sheath’s hilt, complementing the deep, polished finish of the sheath. Fine leather accents and delicate gold detailing complete the enchanting design, making it a masterpiece of both artistry and functionality.

The combination of these materials mahogany wood, fine leather and the designs not only ensures durability but also contributes to its exquisite appearance, Conan loved it.

This must have cost a lot and she got it for him. She had only seen him once in his knight attire.

He bit the inside of his tongue in regret.

What happens now? Whenever his mother is angry with his father, he normally pacifies her, but Helena doesn’t have a child.

He took the sword, one he had gotten from the former emperor himself.

The sword is a resplendent knight’s sword, its blade honed to a flawless mirror finish, catching and reflecting ambient light he had sharpened suitably this morning. The detailed hilt, beautified with ornate engravings, features a crossguard leading to a pommel. His sword is a lot like Theodore’s. The slender, gracefully curved blade, both sharp and keen, its length is a comfortable balance for its weight, dangerous.

This had cut Helena. He thought bitterly.

She was lucky it didn’t slice off her fingers.

Fuck!

He had been an asshat, he pondered.

Conan then gazed at her blood on the sword, he didn’t wish to clean it, every other person he had ever sliced, he felt repulsive and washed their blood off but he felt like he was committing a grave sin if he wiped her blood off his sword, he raised the sword and elegantly slides it into the sword sheath Helena hot gotten, his former sheath forgotten.

Now he should apologize like a child, he thought walking into the room after dropping the sword in a secure space.

Helena was lying quietly on the bed when Conan stepped inside, she bundled herself tighter into her awkward posture when he got closer. She hadn’t meant to cut herself earlier she had simply been curious to know how sharp it was, her fingers had gone on their own to feel it, it was so shiny and inviting.

How dare he scold her?! She shifted again.

Her back turned to him, Conan looked around for anything to hold before talking to her. He took a hair comb, he had thought about combing her hair earlier.

He knew she wasn’t asleep yet but he couldn’t be an ass any further.

"Helena?" he called softly.

She remains silent, no longer moving.

"Dear Helena?" he growled in a whisper.

She shivered. Why was he calling her that?

"I know you’re not sleeping Clingy," he said, his voice still low

She raised herself from her lying position "What is it that you want, Sir Obnoxious knight of Critic Arley" she questioned, with a raised brow.

He grinned, happy she was back albeit still angry.

"Let me comb your hair" he invited

She narrowed her eyes, he always sees faults in her "Why?"

"Do you not wish to comb your hair?"

"I do, but I do not intend to leave the bed"

"That is alright," he said as he sat on the edge of the bed waiting for her to reach him, she gingerly reached him careful not to test on her left hand.

"Be careful... move closer" he instructed his voice soft she almost giggled in delight.

In their quiet shared bedroom, Conan delicately dives into the challenge of untangling her tightly tangled black hair. The comb moves with meticulous care, straightening the intricate twists and turns in her hair and trying to set it clean. With each patient tug, Conan unravels the knotted strands, revealing a cascade of glossy black locks that had been held captive by the locks of stress and neglect for days.

"I’m sorry," he said into the quiet room as he continued to run his hand up to down with the comb.

She sighed, enjoying the tenderness Conan was showing.

The air is filled with the gentle whispers of strands separating, a testament to his unwavering commitment to restoring her original beautiful form of hair.

"Thank you for the gift," he said then.

She turned to him quickly "Did you like it?!" she roared, her face close to his.

She licked her lips waiting for his reply his orbs fell to them and he gulped.

"I loved it" he whispered, his eyes glued to her luscious lips.

Their breath mingled with each other as her lips parted to say something. Nothing came out, too breathless to speak. Conan’s face was inching closer, the tip of their nose touched and that gave her a breath of air "I forgive you then" she whispered before drawing back to lie on the bed, her posture funny again.

"Good night Conan" she mumbled as she shifted continuously.

He was silent for a while, gathering himself, he dropped the comb that now had strands of her hair, and then he headed for the bed, after climbing in, he covered himself with the blanket.

"Good night, Helena" he grumbled, inhaling her perfume scent.

*

* *

*

Night.

Bedroom, Theodore Mansion.

Critic Arley, Critic-Ishire.

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

Lydia and Theodore are both in their bedroom, Theodore is holding a book in hand, supposedly reading while Lydia is looking through her dresses for what to adorn tomorrow.

"I heard about your conversation with the baroness" Theodore brought up, his eyes still glued to the book.

"I hope you are not irate" she said shutting the wardrobe to meet him.

He looked at her, his eyes bright "No it makes me want to kiss you over and over again" he admitted.

"Do it then" she whispered tip of her ears red.

Theodore gestured for her to come closer and she did, he drew her into his arms on the bed, tilted her head up with his finger under her chin, her hair cascaded behind her in waves.

He joined his lips with has and immediately emotions cascaded on them like a gentle waterfall. As their lips met, Lydia’s initial spark of anticipation, turned into a quiet acknowledgement that something special was about to unfold when he pulled her closer. She kissed him back with full vigour, her breathing fast.

The soft warmth of the kiss ignites a subtle fire within Theodore, a surplus of desire that dances between them.

With each passing second, there was no more sense of affection but hunger for one another raw passion and need for satisfaction gripped the couple.

The mingling of breath and the shared vulnerability creates a cocoon of trust and affection but this was far from just wanting to share a kiss, Theodore desired to share her soul and also body, It was as if time slowed down, allowing them to savour the beauty and savagery of the present moment.

A silent conversation where every nuance is felt and understood by the couple as they fall into bed together.

In this intimate hungry act, there’s a mixture of passion and tenderness, a sweet paradox that defines the complexity of human connection. It’s not just about the physical sensation but the emotional resonance that lingers in the air, leaving a lasting imprint on their heart as Theodore took her again this time with a strength that surprised and brought extreme pleasure to Lydia.

"Gooseberry, you can do whatever you want, unalive anyone and I shall punish them for making you do evil," he told her, after tucking her into his side. He had wiped her with warm clothes before holding her warm flushed naked body to his mirroring figure.

"I shall try to stay in line and not cross to the dark side" she admitted, they both cannot be dark for the sake of the empire and their possible offspring.

He nodded before grumbling "I shall remain in the dark side for you, fur whenever you may need it" he professed.

"I shall remain a light so we can blend and create a perfection never imagined" She vowed her hair tickling his nose, and he lifted her, her thighs net his inner thigh. She sighed.

"I feel like I’ve known you all my life" Lydia whispered in his embrace.

"I know that I have known you life before and after, Lydia" he growled, gazing at her ocean-blue eyes, they were so familiar yet, foreign.

In this life of his, he knows that he loves her and that should be enough in all of the lives he had lived he had loved her like that was the only purpose he had in life.

Gooseberry isn’t just a girl he had met and loved at first sight, she was a soul he had suffered, hungered and waited for, in all of his life.

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