Sins of Lust Filled Love Pt 2

A Chapter by Tsukin Archangel

Pt 2: Shep is delusional in his mourning of the loss of Ciaran

-Betrothed-

Sins of Lust Filled Love

Part 2

"He's been inconsolable for near a week your highness, nothing we do brings the young prince out of his stupor."

The Queen sighed, looking on at her third son with sad, tired eyes. They had lost so much in the battle for Verlorene. Their once beautiful and ancient city lay in ruin, their treasury plundered, leaving virtually nothing to pay for the repairs they so gravelly needed. Her first born son was missing, most likely dead, tossed aside in some nondescript bog never to be seen again, her husband lay in bed, his battle wounds slowly festering with some un-nameable poison that slowly sapped him of his strength, and her third son had fallen prey to the curse. He'd fallen into despair.

And how badly they needed him. It was just too much for her to organize on her own. She needed her Shep; his level headed thinking that could easily prioritize and order things in the most dire of circumstances, the mind that could put Berrick in his place; the sound of his voice a balm on her severely taxed nerves in these hard times.

"Have you tried contacting Diana? Perhaps the sound of the voice of his betrothed would revive him." She turned away, barely able to keep her composure, unable to handle the sight in front of her, of her broken son; missing the sympathetic look the handmaid gave her; the Queen seemed to be the only one who didn't know who really held her sons heart.

This wasn't her Shep, this was some foreign facade, a demon inhabiting his body. She couldn't stand looking at this, seeing her baby boy so distant, empty, gone. She had wept for so many nights, thinking of all that was wrong in her life, asking that one important question. Why? Why did all of this have to happen to them? In their time? Why couldn't they continue on in the peaceful and prosperous way they had been before?

"We tried your highness, but her father refuses to let his daughter traverse the Helladas in these harsh times."

The Queen rubbed her temples, and took a breath, her eyes landing for an instant on her son, sitting on the chair by the window, looking out but not seeing. Empty. Blank. His eyes were turned within, lost in his memories, the person Shep had been, trapped in his regret, his guilt, his anger and sadness, locked away in his youth, while his body aged, growing frail, dirty, decrepit.

Even now the light did nothing to flatter him. It brought out those flaws, those things rather left unnoticed, like his sunken cheeks, and tired eyes. How his clothes hung loosely on his bony frame, looking more dead than alive, like a single gust of wind would blow him to oblivion. There was no strength to him, no substance, his skin taking on a sickly pallor. Silvia turned away again, a single tear falling from her eye.

"I suppose that only makes sense, I wouldn't send my children halfway across the Helladas in a time like this either," The Queen replied.

Oh how her heart ached! How her body and soul cried out for her children, for her husband, her kingdom, the thing she had spent close to twenty years cultivating, spilled her sweat and blood into creating.

"I must leave. My soul can not stand this despair much longer. It begins to ail me in my growing age."

"Of course my lady, is there any place you would to go in particular?"

Silvia paused for a moment, looking out the window. "The pavilion would be nice, it is such a lovely day after all, my heart aches for a more uplifting atmosphere."

The handmaid held out her arm to steady the other woman, feeling a slight pang of sadness at the state this tragedy had reduced her queen too. She was not particularly old, the Queen, just a bare few years over thirty, yet she knew sorrow was a heavy burden, she had seen it break stronger men in her time.

"Right this way your majesty."

The door shut behind the two with a bang and the room was plunged into silence, though the sudden sound managed to cut through the young sea-prince's stupor. He jumped in his chair, becoming painfully aware of the poor shape his body was in. The gnawing hunger in his belly, the unpleasant aroma that wafted into his nose that showed him to not be clean. He saw the lusterless look in his eyes, the greasy, oily, quality his hair had undertaken. It was pathetic, he knew it was, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

Ciaran.

That was the only word... the only name that played in his head. Over and over again, it moved like a self proclaimed mantra, it was the only thing that held any meaning for him, the only thing that mattered.

Ciaran. Ciaran. Ciaran. Ciaran.

He tried to stand, but he was too tired, his legs could no longer withstand his weight, he could do nothing more than a weak half hearted crawl, one that he quickly gave up on.

His room was much as he'd left it, he didn't even think the sheets had been changed off the bed from that night. That last wonderfully blissful night where he'd called out Ciaran's name in pure ecstasy, as he was undone by his fingers, his lips, his very being. The last time they were able to be one, joined at the hip, inseparable and in love.

Ciaran.

His Ciaran. His Lost Prince. His servant. His other half. His true partner in life. Not Diana. Not that ignorant architects daughter. Ciaran. And he was gone. Leaving him all alone. Leaving him without his dry, dark wit, and his unique perspective. Leaving him empty.

Ciaran.

Shep began to crawl across the floor again, eyes locked on his bed, the prospect of a chance to remember, to remember how he smelled, how he felt in his arms, the sounds he'd make, the tiny mewls of pleasure as they kissed, too strong to pass up. It was slow work, tiring for his unused muscles, but progress he made all the same. For he had a goal, and he would reach it. Then... only then... he could forget. He could seclude himself in memories, go back to that time when he was blissfully ignorant, when he cared for nothing.

He reached the bed and stopped, catching his breath, his heart pounding in his chest, blood roaring through his veins for the first time in days. His body burned, it ached in protest, sending small agonizing bursts of pain through his limbs, telling him to stop, that it wasn't worth it. But he didn't listen because his body was wrong. He needed this. He needed...

"Ciaran," The name came out like a whisper on his tongue, foreign and unsure, his voice raspy from the lack of use. "Ciaran," He said again, pulling the sheet off the bed, covering his face with it, inhaling deeply, taking in that smokey, earthy scent that had clung to his lover, that had been uniquely his, Ciaran's.

"Cai-r-an," His voice came out stronger this time, but now it was uncontrollable, emotion spilled over his eyelids in the form of hot salty tears, tears of remembering, tears he didn't want shed. They fell down his face in rivulets, soaking his face, a physical manifestation of his pain. A pain he didn't want to feel. It was too harsh, too concrete, too real. He didn't want this reality to be true. He only wished to remember, to remember his love as he was, beautiful and alive, not this dark mysterious dead that he didn't want to even contemplate.

"Ciaran," Shep curled into his side bringing the sheet with him, balling it up against him, burying his face in its depths, imagining it was the raven haired youth from his memories. He sighed. "Ciaran." It was a contented sound, already the pain was starting to fade, already Ciaran was appearing in his arms. He pulled the sheet closer, nuzzling what he imagined to be the crook of the boy's neck.

"Stop that, I have to study, something you should be doing yourself."

Shep smiled. "Sorry, Cai, you're just too cute." He whispered.

Ciaran blushed and turned away. "Whatever happened to the days where you nb

"Oh, I don't know, Cai guess you just worked your magic on me." Shep said nipping lightly at the imagined boys neck.

"D****t, taught you too well for my own good hmm?"

"Perhaps you did... perhaps you did..."

The pain was gone. He couldn't feel anything anymore, just the weight of his love in his arms, the sound of his voice in his ear. Memories surged through his mind; the real world pulled away, he fell back into his mind.

He remembered.

-Betrothed-

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