Caldina was standing just behind the king's chair in the banquet hall, still as a statue. She didn't expect any of the guests to attack His Majesty, but as his bodyguard and personal champion she wouldn't dream of leaving him unguarded at such a time.

She noticed that the king was pushing his supper around on his plate more than actually eating any of it. She stepped to the side a little and tried to catch his eye to silently ask if he was feeling all right, but he kept his gaze on the candelabra in the middle of the dining table.

Then he pushed his chair back a few inches, closed his eyes, and went still except for his throat, which bobbed with a hard swallow. He lifted his cloth napkin toward his mouth, then quickly lowered it and stood up. "Pardon me," he said in a slightly shaky voice before he turned and hurried from the room with the napkin held to his lips.

The guests exchanged curious glances, and Caldina heard one whisper something about the monarch looking ill. The crown prince frowned at her and made a tentative move as if to get up. She subtly shook her head, letting him know she would handle it, before slipping out of the banquet hall.

She half-expected to find the king bent over a fresh puddle of vomit, but the corridor was deserted. On a hunch, she headed toward the nearest privy. The door was shut but she heard him coughing wetly inside. She knocked. "Sire, it's just me," she said quietly.

The unmistakable sound of chunky vomit pouring into a bucket was her only answer. She tried the doorknob, but he had locked it. She stood helplessly, listening to her beloved heave himself inside out.

Eventually the door opened. A very pale king was leaning on the counter, panting for breath.

"So much for supper, huh?" she said, putting a comforting hand on his back.

"Ugh," he said emphatically. "I'd been holding that back for nearly an hour. I nearly lost it there at the table."

"Thankfully you didn't. The closest guests noticed you looked ill, but no one was too concerned."

He seemed to having difficulty standing up completely straight, and his frown deepened. "Not done," he muttered as he stooped over the bucket again. Within seconds his jaw opened with a croaking retch. He wrenched his stomach muscles twice more before a lumpy stream of barf ran out of his mouth and splashed into the pail.

"Oh, poor thing," she soothed, patting his heaving shoulders.

He gasped, trembled, then let out a rumbling belch and another flood of partially-digested material.

"It's all right, just get it all up," she said calmly.

The spasms in his gut transitioned to dry heaves soon after. He shuddered and gagged for another couple of minutes before he staggered to the ewer on the counter to rinse his mouth.

"I'll let the guests know you've fallen ill and won't be coming back to the table. Do you think you can make it back to your chambers on your own?"

"Of course," he wheezed. "I'm more than capable of--GURK!" Fruitless retching seized his throat until he spat up a wad of something pinkish-brown into the bucket. "Of being incredibly ill," he finished with a sigh.

"Hang on. I'll go make our excuses and then come back for you."

12:23pm You're exhausted, and you blame it on the stupid burrito. Your boring office job is exactly that, boring, but spending the day at a computer answering emails and redirecting phone calls was better than physical labor on days like today. Your stomach has been grumbling all day, but you're not really hungry, nothing sounds particularly good. You had a sleeve of graham crackers in your drawer at work, you've had a few this morning. They're good dipped in coffee, but both are rather dehydrating. Your favorite coworker came in with a big gulp full of nugget ice and gave you half. The cold water has been nice, but it's done little to solve how dry your mouth has been. You've made a cup of ramen for lunch, you're hoping that the warm and the salt will help you get through. Cup noodles aren't exactly your ideal lunch, but it's the least amount of effort and the least amount of chewing you can do, so you settle for it. You manage about half before your lunch break is over and you bin the remains.

2:00pm You hate this meeting. You hate this meeting so much. This is the most this could have been an email meeting you've ever attended in your entire life. It's virtual, which is good you suppose because that restlessness from this morning is back. You can look composed on camera, but your feet are tapping and you're not sure what exactly is wrong. You're thankful that you don't have to do much talking in this meeting, but the ramen did little to fix the dry mouth situation. If anything all the sodium bloated you. You've been to the bathroom three times trying to get rid of some of it, but all the liquid remains sloshing around in your stomach. You stifle a burp behind your fist and try to concentrate.

4:45pm Your boss left fifteen minutes ago, so you're going to leave fifteen minutes early. The sloshing in your stomach hasn't gone away, and you're too embarrassed to ask a coworker for antacid. You want to get out of here early, try to get home before the traffic gets too horrible. You just want to go lie down.

5:20pm You toe your shoes off as you lean against your door because you know that if you bent over right now you might be sick. The last ten minutes of your drive have been stressful, your stomach hasn't been enjoying the stop and go of traffic. You've been trying to keep it settled with breathing and small sips of your cold water, but your burps have been getting wetter and wetter. The three flights of stairs up to your apartment have done little to settle your stomach, and you are so thankful that you've made it home before getting any worse. You make your way to your bedroom and get out of your uncomfortable work clothes in exchange for your largest and most comfortable pajamas. You feel another burp ripple up through your chest, but your hand springs to your mouth when your stomach heaves. The back of your throat is cold, water unsettled from the drive home. You know things aren't going to get better, you make your way to the bathroom.

You settle onto the bathroom floor, a shiver running up your spine as you lift the toilet seat lid up. You run your hand over your bloated stomach and the groan that leaves your mouth is involuntary. You burp once, twice, three times. They're wet, but have no power. Your stomach gurgles under your hand, that shiver returns. You burp again, deeper this time. You're nearly sick, but nothing more than some spit comes out. You wonder how long it will be before your stomach finally gives way. The restlessness has not left you all afternoon, you know you need to stay planted but you're itching to move. Your hands run along your stomach as you hover in front of the toilet bowl, trying your best to relieve your aching stomach of the gas that's been building. It hurts, you moan. You burp once more, wetter, and the liquid in your throat doesn't choke off or leave. You can't cough, so you heave, and a torrent of cold water splashes down into the toilet below you. You try to catch your breath, but a bubble of air has rolled from your belly button and up through your esophagus. You burp, and more liquid erupts and splashes below you as your stomach heaves twice.

You try to catch your breath, but the contents of your stomach have shifted. The pressure in your chest is trying to keep your throat closed. There is a pressure growing in your stomach, your hand along its side can feel the way the liquids don't seen to slosh anymore, but stand ready for expulsion. You gulp down a breath of air, you burp. There is silence where you're waiting for a breath, but the pressure in your stomach has grown and it has won. You heave once, then twice. There's noodles in this one.

You have a moment to catch your breath. You're able to fill your lungs for the price of a belch, but a harmless one. Dry, forceful, and short, you hope they help regain balance in your stomach, but after only two or three belches liquid found their way up. You burp up a mouthful, your tongue dangling with drool. You think you've cured your dry mouth from all this morning before your stomach retches and forces out more than you knew had been inside of it. You struggle to catch your breath and force up a few smaller waves as you try and clear your throat. Your stomach aches, and you try to settle. You haven't eaten much today, there is no way you can have any more in your stomach to vomit up. Still, you're not confident enough to leave your position in the bathroom yet.

You feel weak, hot and cold at the same time, and you know that even though it made no sense, more was to come. You burp, and your stomach retches some more liquid up. You wonder when this was from, how it got here. It's warm and a little bitter, but it doesn't hurt your throat in the way coffee or bile would. You breathe heavy and your stomach gurgles again. You put your hand on your stomach and feel how unsettled it is. You begin to burp, and you can not stop. One after the other, you're choking on them and then another torrent of vomit, followed by a second so powerful your face is halfway down the toilet bowl. You breathe, you heave, you spit into the bowl. You're a little bit dizzy, but as you breathe and steady yourself, you feel as though the worst of it might be over. You spend several more minutes on the floor of your bathroom making sure your stomach was truly finished, and you begin to feel much better. You wonder what had kept it so upset in the first place.

2:36am The ripple that tears its way through your gut is both an auditory warning of what's to come and a pain that sends you curled into yourself. Your body feels heavy, as does your stomach. You took it easy last night, you ate soft foods-mashed potatoes and some pasta. You drank water, you took it slow. You were feeling fine tonight. Throwing up earlier had really helped, but now you're not so certain that assessment was accurate. Your stomach feels hard, and it flinches when you run your fingers along it. Your feet spring to action, you know you don't have much time and you'd rather not get sick in your bed or on your floor. You feel your throat trying to open up, prepare itself for the sick that will be making its way up momentarily. You try not to think about it too much, you settle onto the bathroom floor again.

Things are quiet. For several seconds things are quiet as you hover in the darkness over the bowl of your toilet. Your stomach hangs heavy, though it continues to twitch, trying to heave itself higher. Your mouth hangs open and you let out a little whine. Your stomach contracts, and several waves of sick force themselves out of you. You settle, but only momentarily. Your stomach heaves again, and more sick spews out of you without you having much say in the matter. You hope it will be over soon, you hope it will make you feel better.