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Lord Theodore's Favorite Ritual

"I have waited for you in all of my lives, Gooseberry, and in all of them you had left. Please stay in this one," he pleaded, his eyes locked with hers. "I wish to stay too, My Lord Husband, because you are forever, Theodore," she whispered, tears glistening in her eyes. In a world where Lydia Statham, an illegitimate girl shunned as an abomination, is confined to her noble-born family’s estate, her only escape comes through books and stories of the outside world. But destiny intervenes when she receives an invitation to a bridal pick banquet at one of Critic Arley’s grandest mansions. What was supposed to be a chance for a new beginning soon becomes a solitary encounter with Lord Theodore, a feared outcast and enemy of the Empire. Lord Theodore, of royal blood but without a surname, has never desired a wife, and the idea of cohabiting with a woman seems unfathomable. Yet, at the banquet thrown by Conan, where every young lady was invited, only Lydia appears. Now, Theodore must confront his deepest reservations as he navigates the ritualistic demands and unearths feelings he never anticipated. In a tale of forbidden desires and unspoken promises, every season, every day, and forever, Theodore's life will revolve around the ritual that is Lydia—his chosen, his fate. No one came but her. His Gooseberry. ************** "Call me Lordess Theodore" "I am Lordess Theodore and I am his favourite ritual" Dear Critic. Do you wish to https://buymeacoffee.com/nanafirdausi Discourse with me on discord @i_nanafirdausi Cover photo is mine.

I_Nana_Firdausi · ファンタジー
レビュー数が足りません
294 Chs

Second Lifetime, Freya. (15)

Nights Later.

Seconoria.

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The grand hall was filled with the clamor of courtiers and nobles, their hushed whispers and muted conversations creating a low hum of anticipation. The torches lining the walls cast flickering shadows, lending an air of solemnity to the gathering. At the head of the room, the king sat upon his ornate throne, his face a mask of stern resolve.

Princess Freya stood to his right, her posture straight and regal, though her heart raced with trepidation. She wore a ceremonial dress of deep crimson, the color of blood and power, a stark contrast to the delicate golden crown resting atop her raven hair. Her eyes, sharp and intelligent, scanned the room, noting the curious and expectant gazes of the assembled nobility.