Sins of Lust Filled Love Pt 8

Ciaran gets sick, and Epona helps him out.

-Betrothed-

Sins of Lust Filled Love

Part 8

Ciaran walked away from the podium barely able to stand. He felt sick to his stomach, all the lies he spewed, the false smiles, the fake praise, all of it slowly turning his insides... and his country. In his mind he watched as another region fell into the red, into the palms of Thyme; he wished someone would call out his treachery, would see through his facade and read between the lines, screaming bloody murder, causing a stir, stopping the lies from falling from his mouth.

Though he feared that now it may be too late.

Epona shot the young prince an apologetic look as he made his way back to his seat on unsteady legs, hoping that the rest of the audience couldn't see just how shaken he really was.

Thyme nodded in his direction and walked back to the podium to deliver the closer, though Ciaran hardly paid attention, he felt his stomach churning and clenching, his skin clamming over. Epona looked at him worriedly.

"Are you feeling okay? You look pale," He whispered discreetly to the boy sitting next to him.

Ciaran winced and shook his head. "I think I'm going to be sick." He groaned clutching his stomach as it spasmed again in rebellion. "I need to get out of here before I make a scene."

Epona took in the raven haired boys slightly green expression and nodded. "Come with me."

The blonde quickly got up and slipped behind the curtain, Ciaran right behind him.

"Oh god," He moaned. "F**k." Ciaran quickly ran into the alley and retched. It was awful, his stomach clenched and pushed upwards, his gag reflex making the entire experience worse. He felt his breakfast resurface and splatter to the ground, a myriad of hellish colors he didn't even want to see. He was so glad the toga clung to him so much, he'd managed to keep it clean. He didn't need to be seen walking back on the podium with chunks attached to himself.

Ciaran braced himself against the wall and heaved again, this time less violently than before, but just as painfully, most of it coming off as dry retching. He rested his head against the wall and stood there, gasping letting the cold stone cool his over heated flesh. Finally, he took a breath and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before straightening himself shakily.

Epona took one look at him and shook his head. "Oh no, you're going back to the castle now."

Ciaran glared and took a wobbly step. "Like hell I am."

Epona sighed and went to let the young prince lean on him. "You're too stubborn for your own good, you know that right?"

Ciaran smirked as he leaned against the... what should he call him? Prince? He supposed so. "It's my most endearing quality."

"I suppose so, if you were too complacent I doubt Dolor would have any fun."

Ciaran grimaced at the mention of the boys older brother. "I just refuse to be anyone's b***h, you can blame my wounded pride for that one."

Epona chuckled. "You seemed pretty content with being the Third Prince of Verlorene'."

Ciaran blushed. "Shut up, that's different."

"I guess."

Epona took a left and continued past the stage where his father's booming voice could be heard.

"Where are you taking me?" Ciaran growled.

"I told you, back to the castle."

Ciaran stopped, dragging his feet behind him forcing Epona to halt. "No. Let go"

Epona let go and brushed a blonde curl from his face. "Do you really want them to see you like this?" Epona asked evenly. "Will your pride allow it?"

Ciaran winced. "My pride won't let me just leave either."

"But will it allow you to look weak? Which is worse?"

Ciaran bit his lip but said nothing.

"Look you can't even stand by yourself. Wouldn't it be easier to leave and come up with a plausible lie then make an undeniable truth?"

Ciaran sighed, Epona was too smart for his own good. "Fine. Take me back." he grumbled.

Epona smiled. "There's a good boy."

-Betrothed-

Author's Note

Pt 8 Enjoy! Tell me what you think **warning the next chapter is gonna be kinda long***