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Lucien hadn't said anything at the inn earlier at noon. Tearlach didn't like to hear him complain and he didn't like to waste time, and the pretty waitress had looked a tad overwhelmed by the amount of clients in the room. It would have been a bother if Lucien had asked to replace his chicken rice for one that tasted a bit less bitter, so he hadn't said anything, but maybe he should have. Perspiration gathered on his brow and he felt a bit faint. His stomach had started to hurt so he curled his arms around himself. Gwaine glanced at him.
"Are you all right?"
Lucien looked up at the young centaur and nodded, surprised. It always took him aback whenever Gwaine did this. Tearlach never asked that kind of question unless there was a serious issue. A small crease appeared on Gwaine's brow and he looked him up and down, and it didn't look like he believed him. "Why are you holding yourself like that, then?"
"My stomach hurts a bit," answered Lucien.
"Enough chit-chat back there, and pick up the pace," called Tearlach from ahead. "I shouldn't have to remind you that we need to be there by sundown."
"Yes, Sir," the boys said together.
Lucien bowed his head and hunched his shoulders, forcing himself to walk faster so that he wouldn't be left behind by the centaurs' longer strides. He was used to travelling at a half-running pace when their group was pressed for time, even though the others always slowed their gait for him. Tearlach had known what it would mean to have a human travelling companion, one that wasn't fully grown at that, so he never reproached Lucien for it. Tearlach also understood his need for more frequent rests. However, he did reprimand Lucien if he found that he dragged his feet.
The building pain in Lucien's gut sharpened and twisted, and he sucked in a breath. His face tingled coldly. The feeling of faintness returned in a wave that made his steps falter, and his stumble didn't escape Gwaine's attention. The young centaur slowed down again. "Lucien, you look pale."
Lucien took in a deep breath to tamp down his growing nausea. "...I think I'm sick." He winced when his stomach twisted again, and it made a gurgling sound. Tension peaked inside of his innards and he bit back a groan. His limbs felt like jelly. He feared that he was going to topple over. Humiliation, too, started burning at his nape, because he knew what this discomfort entailed.
"Gwaine, Lucien!" Tearlach's voice cracked like a whip and they both jerked their heads up. The huge centaur was glaring at them. "I won't say this again. Pick up the pace."
"Sorry," quietly said Lucien, and he started to move again, but a hand on his arm stopped him from going any further.
"He's sick," Gwaine told Tearlach, loosely holding Lucien in place. "He's all pale and sweaty, and he says his stomach hurts."
Tearlach's hooves clopped heavily against the packed dirt. He came to a stop in front of them, annoyance marring his strong sharp features. "What is this, Lucien?"
Lucien's throat was tight. "I think it's because of the chicken." The urgent pain was building by waves and quickly becoming unbearable, and he squirmed. "I... I need to relieve myself."
"Then hurry up," sternly commanded Tearlach.
Lucien looked up at him in mild horror. "Here?"
"Where else?"
Lucien knew that he'd asked a stupid question. He didn't have a choice. He turned around, pained and hesitant. There was no cover but the sparse bushes lining the sides of the road. He knew that neither Gwaine nor Tearlach would mind the sounds nor the knowledge of what Lucien was doing in the bushes, because centaurs didn't feel the same modesty as humans did over their bodies. Still, he couldn't help but feel mortified when he went into the bushes and squatted as low as he could. He prayed that no other travellers would come down the road.
He felt his face burn with shame as he did his business. Tears of frustration and humiliation prickled at the back of his eyes. He wished he'd refused when Tearlach had said he could pick a different meal from his and Gwaine's if he wanted to eat some meat. He wished he'd had the guts to tell the waitress that the chicken tasted funny.
By the time he was done, he felt like his pride and strength had been cored out of him. His nose wrinkled at the smell and he wobbled as he hurried to clean himself and pull his pants back up. He quickly wiped the sweat and tears off his face with his sleeve and stumbled out of the bushes as fast as he could. Gwaine and Tearlach stared at him as he returned to their side. Lucien wished he could transform into a bug and disappear.
"Are you done?" asked Tearlach.
"Yes, Sir," murmured Lucien.
"Are you feeling better?" asked Gwaine.
He nodded, keeping his gaze glued to the ground. "Yes."
"Let's get moving," said Tearlach, and his long dark tail swished when he turned around.
"Here," said Gwaine, taking his pouch of water, "hold out your hands".
Lucien looked up at him and protested: "But that's your water to drink, I can't-"
"Your hands," repeated Gwaine, a tad impatiently. "Come on."
"... Yes." Lucien complied and Gwaine poured the lukewarm water in a thin stream. Tearlach was still walking away but Gwaine was adamant on making Lucien freshen up not only by washing his hands, but also his face, before they followed their mentor.
When the boys finally started moving again, Gwaine wasn't walking fast, so Lucien allowed himself to do the same. He'd felt hot earlier, but all that heat had leeched out of him, and now he just felt cold and clammy and gross. His armpits and the back of his knees were damp. The pain had returned to a more manageable level now that he'd expelled the poisoned air and matter that had gathered in his guts. It only lingered as a diffuse ache throughout his belly, but he still felt weak and nauseous, and his feet were heavy. Tearlach suddenly stopped and spun around to face them with clear displeasure, and Lucien felt a distant bolt of dread.
"You're too slow," said Tearlach. "I know that Gwaine is hale, and you said that you felt better, so explain to me why we're walking along this road at a slug's pace."
"I'm sorry," quickly said Lucien. He felt tired and nervous and he didn't know what else to say.
Gwaine spoke up. "Sir, I don't think that pause was enough for him to get over this. He's ill."
Through his exhaustion, Lucien gratefully noticed that Gwaine had sidestepped the mention of what the pause had consisted in. He knew that centaurs didn't take issue with talking about bodily urges, so it meant that Gwaine had clearly avoided it to be considerate of him.
Tearlach turned on his nephew, his green eyes narrowed. "We've already lost precious time. Are you suggesting that we waste more of it by resting halfway? We can't afford to linger about like some airheaded fairies in a field."
Lucien hunched in on himself. Tearlach was right, there was a town that needed their help and they couldn't take the time to let his capricious gut settle down. What he would've given to have the ground swallow him up... then perhaps he wouldn't feel half as worthless as he did in the moment. That wasn't happening, however, and he had to come up with a solution. Lucien reluctantly said: "Maybe you should continue without me, Sir."
Both centaurs looked at him. Tearlach crossed his arms and considered the suggestion. "Do you think yourself capable of joining us in Ulebeck later? You'll have to find your way on your own."
"I think I can," said Lucien, even though he didn't feel comfortable with that at all. He just wanted very dearly to sit down and stay there. He needed the rest, but being alone meant he'd have to fend for himself if he crossed paths with an ill-intentioned individual later. Even though he knew how to fight thanks to Tearlach's training, he'd never had to travel alone before. He'd always had his friends and family with him in Ildenmoor and he hadn't ever truly been left to his own devices ever since Tearlach had chosen him as his apprentice.
"I don't think that's a good idea," said Gwaine. "Lucien, you're weakened, what if something happens to you while you're alone? We can't leave him here," he told his uncle.
"We'll have to, if neither of you come up with a better idea before I decide that this conversation has lasted long enough already," Tearlach answered him in an indisputable tone.
Gwaine hesitated and his pale golden gaze flickered to Lucien, then back to Tearlach. "I could... carry him on my back."
Tearlach's eyes instantly hardened. "And why would you do that?"
"He can't walk as fast as we need him to, and I'm old enough to carry someone his size."
"He is no warrior, and he hasn't proved himself worthy of riding one of us. You are well aware of the profanity you're suggesting, Gwaine." Tearlach's voice was heavy with anger. Lucien felt sick to perceive the tension between the two centaurs, and to know that it was because of him.
"I'll stay," he said. "I don't need to climb on your back, Gwaine, it's all right."
Tearlach eyed him coldly. "I'd hope that you wouldn't ever feel that need, Lucien."
"Yes," faintly said Lucien, feeling like he was choking beneath the weight of that warning.
"It's not all right! I don't want to leave him here!" argued Gwaine, and his four long legs took a step forward to slide his strong body in the space between Tearlach and Lucien. "It's up to me who I choose to let on my back, and it would only be this once, Sir. It's clear to all of us that Lucien would need to walk the roads long past sundown all on his own if we left him here, and that would make him an easy target for bandits. It's much too dangerous."
Tearlach's mouth curled in disgust. "This is preposterous. You know that we are only to be ridden in battle by a combattant who's proven themself worthy of that honor, Gwaine, and yet you'd so easily allow some cowardly human child to climb on a centaur's back?"
Gwaine stood firm before him, unwavering challenge set in the frame of his dappled body. "Yes. I know that Lucien is a coward but I don't intend on letting him ride me to any battle. I'm not picking him as my partner. It's just that I find it an easy choice to make between following old traditions and preventing a fellow apprentice from putting himself in danger. We help those in need all the time, Sir, why shouldn't we help each other?"
Lucien's legs were trembling. His skin was buzzing. He felt so tired, and somehow, still had the energy to feel on edge. Tearlach gazed past Gwaine to scrutinize Lucien. His green eyes were cold with disgust and it felt like it went on for an eternity. Finally, he turned his back on them and walked away. Gwaine looked down at Lucien.
"Well, he didn't forbid me from doing it, so I think that means he doesn't want to get involved with any of this. Do you think you can climb on?"
Lucien shook his head, lost. "Gwaine, this sounds like a big deal, I don' think I should-"
"Shut up," Gwaine interrupted him. "It's my business who I let on my back. Now spit it out, can you climb on my back, yes or no?"
"I'll... I'll try. How do I do it?"
"I'll help you, here." Gwaine linked his hands together and leaned down. "Put your foot there and I'll lift you up. You can hold onto my shoulders so you don't fall, and then you'll have to throw your leg over my back and pull yourself onto it by using my opposite shoulder. Got it?"
"Got it," said Lucien, and he set his foot down on Gwaine's hands. The other boy didn't break a sweat when he lifted Lucien's weight off the ground, and Lucien felt embarrassed when his clammy palms rested upon Gwaine's warm shoulders. He muttered: "Sorry about my hands."
"Don't worry, they're not that cold. Come on, get up here."
Lucien clumsily did as he'd been told and his backside awkwardly landed on top of Gwaine's strong spine. Lucien cringed. "Did I hurt you?"
"No, you're too scrawny," said Gwaine, shooting him a teasing grin over his shoulder.
Lucien breathed in relief. "Oh, good."
"Hold on tight and don't slip," instructed Gwaine, and he started moving. Without thinking, Lucien wrapped his arms around Gwaine's waist and plastered himself against his back before he was jostled off. When he realized how close he was to the other boy, he felt his cheeks color from something that wasn't humiliation or illness. They were too close. He wasn't used to it.
"Is this- Is this all right?" he stuttered, embarrassed.
"As long as you feel securely in place, then yes," answered Gwaine. "I know you're tired, but try not to fall asleep. You'll hurt yourself if you fall and I won't be able to catch you even if I feel you sliding off."
"Yes, I'll be careful," promised Lucien. They fell quiet after that. Tearlach didn't once turn around to look at them. He hesitated and then murmured to Gwaine: "Will Sir Tearlach be angry at you because of me?"
Gwaine shrugged, the muscles of his back moving beneath his wine-colored tunic, and he didn't lower his voice when he answered. "He won't stop mentoring me, that's what counts."
"... I'm sorry," apologized Lucien.
"It's fine."
"I shouldn't have let any of this happen."
"You fell sick, end of story. It wasn't your fault."
"I knew that the chicken tasted funny," he guiltily admitted.
"Stop worrying, Lucien. I chose to let you climb on my back and I don't regret my decision. Tearlach can think what he wants, but I don't agree with stupid traditions that tell me to leave a companion to travel alone on the road, after dark, while he's ill."
"That's Sir Tearlach to you, Gwaine," sternly said Tearlach ahead of them without a glance.
"Sir Tearlach can think what he wants," repeated Gwaine without missing a beat. "Anyway, are you going to be all right, Lucien?"
Lucien still felt woozy, but Gwaine's body warmth at least helped with the cold, and it even felt like it was helping with the aches. He nodded against the young centaur's back. "I promise I won't get in the way if we need to fight when we get there."
"That's fine. Just focus on feeling better for now."
"...Thank you, Gwaine."
"Don't worry about it, Lucien."