Sins of Forbidden Love Pt 4

Epona and Ciaran on the ride to Elysium (Castle of Geata Ifreann)

-Betrothed-

Sins of Forbidden Love

Pt 4

 The ride back to Elysium was a quiet one.

 But it was anything but peaceful.

 Again Ciaran's head rested against the window pane. Agian he was unable to look out. Again his wrists and ankles were bound in chains. Again his silver crown of thorns bit into his scalp. The carriage lurched, bounced and lunged across the cobbled streets, the sound of wooden wheels on stone echoing in a muted fashion through the few cracks the sound could find.

 Ciaran's eyes traveled across the carriage, his face still glued to the cool glass that fogged momentarily as his breath left his nose, settling on the slender curly blonde lad that was now across from him. The new variable, the thing that had changed. Epona, Second prince in the line of Thyme. Ciaran huffed and maneuvered himself into less of a slouch, carefully trying not to jar his chains any more than necessary; they were raw enough as it is.

 Ciaran tried to relax, tried to school the calm and cool, apathetic, exterior he had mastered long ago and wore like coat on a rainy day -- something he did as easily and automatically as breathing -- and felt the velvet softness of the plush seat cushions beneath him. But it was no use, no matter how he closed his eyes, how he tried to ignore the sharp bite of metal on flesh or the rub of wood against the junction of his knee, these things continued to come back, to mock and humiliate him.

 Remind him he was worthless.

 His breath began to come in shallow, and he bit his lip, forcing down the nauseating panic that welled within him -- that threatened to spill from his lips and further ruin the imagine he tried to maintain.

 His fingers glided against the steel of his ring absent mindedly.

 Oh Shep, if only he was here now. He felt the groves against his thumb, felt how perfectly smooth it was now in places were his fingers had worried away the inscriptions. But he knew them by heart anyway. Imagining Shep's voice, imagining he was here, if just for a moment gave him the strength to continue on for just a little while longer.

 His finger made its way to the engraved trident. He felt the prongs underneath his finger, the deep groves that had yet to even begin to wear.

 But for how much longer could he resist? There was no denying it now. He was breaking. Falling. Drowning. Deeper into the darkness he went, further from the light, further from the goal he had in mind. He could hardly even remember what love felt like. All that was left was anger and a boiling rage that craved nothing but blood.

 "Oi desmoí ti̱s oikogéneias eínai ischyróteroi apó tous desmoús ti̱s moíras." The words left his lips almost subconciously, slipping from his grasp like invisible threads of string.

 The ledge he grabbed for and just barely missed.

 Epona looked up, Ciaran's soft voice jarring him from his thoughts. "What?"

 Ciaran opened his eyes. "Hmmm?"

 He could see Shep's smile now, slow, seductive, and sure; hear his timbre, remember the feel of his breath as he whispered those words in his ear after a moment of bliss.

 "What did you say? Didn't sound like the Common Tongue."

 Ciaran's eyes focused back on the curtain blocking his view of the outside. "It wasn't."

 Epona scoffed. "That much was obvious," he paused. "Are you going to tell me what it means?"

 Ciaran smirked a very Shep-like smirk, one that quickly faded. It wasn't like Epona would know. "No."

 Epona rolled his eyes. "Long ride you know."

 Ciaran nodded. "I do."

 Epona shrugged and opened the book he'd been reading back up, "if you want to talk I'm always willing to drop the teachings of Socrates... they're only so many questions you can take in a day." he mumbled, more to the book than anyone in particular.

 Ciaran glared. "I don't need your pity," he growled under his breath, eyes blazing and jaw set.

 Epona waved a hand noncommittally, eyes not leaving the page. "That pride of yours will be your downfall."

 "I'll be sure yours comes first."

 With that last scathing remark, the carriage fell back into silence. Ciaran staring at nothing, Epona reading a book. His mind wandered back to Shep, something it tended to do even more frequently, seeing that it was the one thing that kept him sane. Human. He knew what the inscription meant. It was engraved in the ring, part of the area that had been worn away.

The bonds of family are stronger than the bonds of fate.

 If only that were true now. If it were he wouldn't be stuck in Geata Ifreann, his family wouldn't be dead, and he could still be with Shep at school, or in Atlantis, living happily as can be. Worry free and in love. The way they had been for that first six months.

 Before everything went to hell.

 "I'm not like Dolor you know, I don't want to hurt you," Epona said without looking up from his book. "I don't hate you."

 Ciaran scoffed. "Sure, and a hog doesn't s**t."

 "Well, it's true, take it or leave it."

 Ciaran snorted. "I beg to differ, hogs most definitely do s**t."

 That had Epona looking up. "What?"

 "You said it's true," Ciaran smirked. "Last I checked hogs had asses too."

 Epona cracked a smile. "I feel like you just tried to crack a joke and failed miserably. Am I right?"

 "Perhaps," Ciaran conceded with a light chuckle, "joking was never my specialty, that was Shep's depart-" He trailed off, eyes growing melancholy, jovial mood dissipating quickly. "That was his area of expertise."

 Epona regarded him silently before sighing and closing his book with a snap; Ciaran looked up. "You two were really close weren't you." It was more a statement than a question.

 Ciaran sighed, wishing he could run a hand through his hair, but knowing it was impossible. "Yeah," he said, there was no point in denying it, honestly he'd figured they all knew. He had been kidnapped in Shep's room, in Shep's bed only wearing pants and underwear. "You could say that."

 Epona looked at him. "I'm sorry." His voice was soft and Ciaran could see a flash of guilt in his eyes.

 Ciaran huffed. "Thanks, but a sorry doesn't change anything," He glanced back at the curtained window, not wanting to see Epona's despaired expression. What right did he have to look depressed anyway? It wasn't he who was forced to stay here against his will. "I'm still stuck here, forced to lie to my people," Ciaran's face contorted with disgust. "I don't deserve this crown, even if it is nothing more than a prop now."

  Epona's eyes continued to bore into him. He cleared his throat and Ciaran dragged his eyes away from his sightless view; Epona's voice came out as a whisper when he spoke. "If I could help you I would."

 Ciaran scoffed before turning his dejected gaze on Epona. He sighed. "But you can't."

 Epona matched his stare. "No," he let out a breath. "I can't."

 "Then that's it isn't it."

 Epona gulped. "Yeah... I guess it is."

-Betrothed-

 "Adept?" Ciaran's brow scrunched in confusion. "What the bloody hell is that?" He probably would've commented further by inquiring into whether they were truly sane or not, but considering the fact he had just witnessed the girl's magic first hand, even seen the marks fade from her otherwise unblemished flesh, well... to question her sanity would be the equivalent to questioning his own.

 And he had no desire to believe himself crazy.

 He had enough problems as it was without adding that on top of them.

 Sicily leveled her gaze on him, dark eyes filled with more wisdom than he felt comfortable with seeing in a girl her age. It made him feel naked --inferior-- and he hated it. "Your pride will be your downfall Biard, unless you learn to quench its thirst." She said as she flicked her wrist, the tea kettle and cups hovering away from the platter to some other corner of the room. Ciaran's eyes followed the movement, innately fascinated by the girl's power, still honestly not sure whether or not he was dreaming or not.

 If this was heaven, Ciaran was feeling jipped.

 Big time.

 "I'm not dead am I?" Ciaran asked gesturing to himself, dark brows lifting in inquiry. "Adept's not some demented name for Angel is it?"

 Sicily laughed; it was an annoyingly pleasant sound. "Why you're as ridiculous as expected."

 Ciaran glared. "What's that supposed to mean."

 "Nothing, just--," She took a breath and wiped her eyes, mouth twitching slightly as she tried to resist the urge to smile. "You're very original in your way of thinking. You're not a narrow-minded tactician of the physical world like your lover, Shepherd Vonhussen. I like it. Respect it even. It shall prove to be of more use to you than you may think. Perhaps even your greatest weapon."

 Ciaran frowned, his thumb immediately beginning to worry at the ring on his finger at the mention of Shep. "Shep's not... narrow-minded, he's the smartest man I know -- wait... Vonhussen? Shep Vonhussen? His last name is Vonhussen?!"

 Sicily smirked in his direction again, her hand reaching out to grab a cup only to stop midway, remembering they were no longer there. She frowned, and Ciaran got the distinct feeling that tea was more than just a drink for her. It was almost like she drank it just to irk him to some new profound height; acting as her device for dramatic effect. And now it was gone. A dark smile spread across Ciaran's face. Boo- hoo.

 "Yes, Vonhussen, third son of Don and Sally Vonhussen, third in line to the throne of Atlantis, indeed one of the smartest people alive in the three kingdom's, yet extremely, unbelievably dense. His views of reality are blinded to what he reads, what he see's and what he hears. If there is no proof, no scientific, or logical explanation then it does not exist. It is a flaw. A thing that will prove to be a hindrance to him just as your pride will be to you."

 "Two sides of the same coin is what you two are. And for each strength you two have comes a weakness. Be glad you are not Shep, for the greater the strength, the greater the weakness. The greater the Achilles heel. And Shep... his weakness's are great. His burdens greater."

 "You ask me what an Adept is. Well. It is one who bears a great burden. One who's choices will affect your world in one form or another. One who'll steer the human race into a new era." She paused to breath and Ciaran remained silent, willing her to continue. "But there is more to it than that, both you and Shep are Adept's in your own respective ways, each of you shall bear a mark, one you bear already, and together you will move the world. But you-- " Sicily jabbed her finger in his direction, and Ciaran instinctively moved back, "you are even more special, you have been granted extra time. The God's have seen fit to extend your life. And the privilege to use their sacred art. The power that created the world."

 "The thing you call... magic."

For a moment everything was still. Not a creature breathed, not a thing moved. Everything was silent. Still. Waiting. Even the fire quieted in anticipation.

 Ciaran gulped and ran a shaky hand through his bangs."No way-- I don't -- I can't -- Shep should -- ," Ciaran took a breath and ran his tongue over his lips nervously, hand tugging gently at his hair as he tried to get his point across. "I don't deserve it. Take it back."

 Sicily laughed, holding her arms out in an open gesture. "Well, I'm not a God, not even close, nor do I control what they do, I'm merely their eternal messenger," She smirked and in that moment Ciaran saw a flash of dark humor that he had seen so often in his own family, "besides even if I could -- which I can't -- I wouldn't change a thing, I rather do enjoy the sight of your squirming, it brings me great--" She made a noise in the back of her throat and spun her hand in thought, "amusement." She finished.

 Ciaran huffed and glared, crossing his arms over his thin frame. "Fine," he paused and set his jaw looking off to the right -- away from her, eyes settling on some random object, a vase filled with god knows what. "At least tell me what the Mark is. What does it do?"

 She clapped her hands together. "Oh that's easy!" She beckoned him over with her pointer finger. "Get up and turn around." She demanded.

 He made a face, "bossy," but did as he was told.

 Sicily only smiled and placed a delicate hand on the middle of his back. "But you asked, it's not like I'm telling you to jump off a cliff."

 The raven haired boy's brows scrunched. "How the hell did you make that connection?"

 "Isn't that something humans say to one another? 'If everyone jumped off the cliff would you follow?'" She looked over at Hank who just shrugged. "Don't look at me, I go out less than you do."

 Ciaran sighed. "It is but... it had nothing to do with the situation."

 Sicily hummed in thought and tapped a finger against his back, Ciaran made a small noise of protest in the back of his throat. "I'll keep that in mind. Now then... this-- this might hurt. Alot."

 "Wait, wha- OW!" Ciaran flinched away, the sudden searing sensation coursing through him. His body tensed and tingled at the point of contact and he felt a bottled up energy flowing within him, just beneath the surface. He gasped, it felt like he was going to explode.

 "Lift up your shirt."

 He gasped. "I- I can't."

 Sicily frowned. "Of course you can."

 Ciaran shook his head, body trembling, the pressure building, swirling, whirling moving within him like a hurricane, searching eagerly for an exit but finding none, just remaining. Growing stronger. Pulling him apart, pushing at every seam in his body, wanting out, wanting to be free. He realized what it was. It was the same feeling he'd felt only moments before when Sicily had forced him to awaken. His wish had been granted, he had the power, but now it was out of his control.

 Sicily put a hand on the back of his neck, felt the sheen of sweat beneath her fingers; felt below that, felt the thrum of power she'd awakened within him from a simple touch. She often times forgot how fragile the human form was, how... squishy, and fleshy, how easily broken. She'd knocked on the doorway that connected the young prince to the world of the arcane -- a wild newfound power -- and forced it open.

 Ciaran had no way of coping, no way of channeling, no way of forcing it back and it was eating him alive. Even if he remained in this world between worlds that Sicily lived in, the force would eat at his sanity, claw at it, choke him between its fingers and his mind would turn to mush. Even as it was, the moment he left this place the magic would be even more volatile, more uncontrollable than before, for that was the nature of his abilities. The form it chose to take, the form that his will commanded it to be.

 A force of destruction.

 A tool for vengeance.

 An energy to be controlled by that base feeling of hate and anger, by the swallowing madness that seeked a foothold in his mind; by the darkness of his soul.

 She trailed a finger down his neck, and rubbed gentle circles on his back. "Breath," she whispered. Sicily could see the marks against his flesh, flashing an angry red, pulsing black and crimson, churning like the murky depths of a mountain of fire, chaotic and untamed.

 Ciaran took a shaky breath and cried out as another spasm of pain wracked through his body.

 "Breath, Ciaran, breath," She commanded. "Open yourself to me, don't fight the touch, let me help you."

 Ciaran whimpered and his spine tightened to the point Sicily worried it would snap. He felt her touch, and he tried to relax but he couldn't. He could feel the undercurrent of what was happening too, he could feel her trying to enter his subconscious, pass between those layers of his mind meant to be private. There were things he didn't want to recall, things he didn't want to remember--

 Things he didn't want others to see.

 She pushed and pushed, but his will was unyielding, he could already feel the memories swirling within him, feeding the flames that licked at the recesses of his spirit

Ciaran whimpered and his spine tightened to the point Sicily worried it would snap. He felt her touch, and he tried to relax but he couldn't. He could feel the undercurrent of what was happening too, he could feel her trying to enter his subconscious, pass between those layers his mind meant to keep private. There were things he didn't want to recall, things he didn't want to remember--

 Things he didn't want others to see.

 She pushed and pushed, but his will was unyielding, he could already feel the memories swirling within him, feeding the flames that licked at the recesses of his spirit -- feeding his determination -- devouring his sanity.

 "You have to control it Ciaran, it is within your control, if not the Gods wouldn't have deemed you worthy of wielding it. Don't fight the flow."

 "I'm," gasp, "trying."

 She hit him on the back of the head. "No you're not, you're fighting it, the power isn't something you fight, you and it are one of the same, an extension of your basest will and desires, listen to it and find that you are the same."

 "What does it want to accomplish?"

 "I- I don't-"

 Another slap. "Then shut up and listen, or do you want to end up insane? If so, by all means continue with what you're doing."

 Ciaran gritted his teeth. "Fine." If one thing could be said about him it was his stubborn spirit. He was not one to give up easily; the perk of retaining his sanity was just a plus.

 A really, really big plus.

 He closed his eyes.

 He saw the swirling masses, the shadowy figures, hazy, murky hardly definite, but he knew who they were innately. He knew it was his family all over again. The moment of their death. Fire. Fiery emotions. Broken thoughts. But they all came to the same conclusion.

 Revenge.

 Kill the one who killed his own. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. Balance and reconciliation. It's what the arcane craved, the same thing he wanted. To raze the world to the ground. No. Shake his head. Not the world. Geata Ifreann. Thyme. Thyme. Only Thyme. Sweat built on his brow. The core was the same. They both wanted to achieve the same thing, but at the same time it was startlingly different.

 Ciaran saw what he had to do now. Ciaran was the trigger -- the power -- the weapon. The weapon didn't care about what it killed. What was in it's way as long as the one it wanted dead was dead. Ciaran had to guide it, to pull the leash taut when needed and stop it from running wild. That was the agreement, the bargain, the gamble. Could he accept it? Could he control -- no -- lead this volatile force on the path of just retribution?

 Yes.

 His power was chaos.

 Destruction.

 The end.

 It was death.

 And he would be the one to unleash it upon the world.

Author's Note

Longer why the heck not?

Part 4 of The 3rd Arc

Reviews

[crystalandra]

Excellent...This is more like it! I loved this chapter--it was long but a fantastic read. Well done...I loved the interaction between Ciaran and Sicily they are diametric opposites and I love how their wills clash. Can't wait to read more from you.

[Tsukin Archangel]

I love their interaction it's just soo fun. They clash because they both expect their wills to be met, (along with the fact that well she doesn't particularly look any older than himself) yet she comes across as superior and that irks him to no end. And of course Sicily is just amused cause she is perfectly capable of pressing his buttons. Lol TECHNICALLY all of the Forbidden Love pt 1- now are all in one chapter doc on my comp lol. If I posted it as it is on my computer then this would be MUCH shorter in the table of contents, but of course all the chapters after 1 range around 15k words 35ish pages. I mean for you it probably wouldnt be that big a deal considering you seem to just like whizz through these but lol yeah. Of course you ARE one of the only ones reading it sooo We'll see!

[Coyote Poetry]

I like the chapter. I like how you led to the very good ending. You left a open door for the next chapter. I wish I had your organization to keep the story flowing and understandable. Always a pleasure to read your words.
Coyote

[Tsukin Archangel]

Thank you! this arc is actually totally done I'm just being lazy with posting it. This is about the halfway point woot woot Lol. Glad you're enjoying it though. And omg I'm glad the flow is still making sense cause I swear sometimes I'm like "OMG IS THIS COHERENT?!" "Oh NO! Timezones Timezones... OMG YES TIMEZONES OKAY THAT'LL HELP WITH THAT!"