And the Cat's in the Cradle

He knew he’d made mistakes, he knew there would indeed be consequences, but knowing they were coming and living through them were two different things. The pain and loss of Darilnor cut into him deeply, one consequence he had expected but hoped desperately to avoid. Now he’d have his father’s punishments to look forward to as well, but he couldn’t imagine them hurting as much as burying his child had. Rhyme tried to shrug off the heavy emotion as Valentine promised they would revisit his egregious mistakes. Now didn’t seem appropriate, but Rhyme had fully sworn off alcohol. No matter how much he wished to indulge and drown away his sorrows he had made a promise to himself, his pack, and his newborns. He had also decided to toy with the idea of never having sex again. He couldn’t go through losing a child a second time.

Valentine managed to subdue his anger and offered his condolences, mentioning how he had similarly struggled. Rhyme’s eyes had dried and he managed to drag his gaze back to the old king. "How did you deal with the grief? Or the guilt of continuing on with the living when your heart feels like it’s been buried with your dead?" Of course, Valentine hadn’t known his mate and son were alive, but for all he knew they had been killed all those years ago. He knew very well how Valen may have felt when he first saw Rhythm and himself appear over the horizon years later. Darilnor could never do the same.