Lycan's Affection
Surrender

Eleanor sat on the floor, the incense filling the entire room. The healer's convention filled the room, each working on slow acupuncture around Conaan's body. The sun was slowly rising over the horizons, and her tears stood in her eyes, her chest lightly heaving. It has been an excruciating amount of hours, the women working around him.

She gave a small, tired sigh, then stood up as a healer approached her.

"My lady."

She nodded. "How is he?"

"The poison has tainted his bloodstream. We will need to take a sample and try various methods. We do hope it will work."

Eleanor swallowed. "And what if it does not?"

The healer turned back to Conaan. "To be quite honest, we are not sure he will wake up. His blood is very weak now."

Eleanor swallowed hard, tears streaming down her cheeks now. "Do not give up. No matter what. I will wait. I will wait as long as it takes. I will wait."

The healer gave a small, comforting smile. "On the good side, however, my colleague has given a suggestion."

Eleanor's eyes lit up. "Yes?"

"Well..." She turned, then gave a small sigh. "Back then, the werewolves owned a field of flowers. The only one of its kind."

"Flowers?"

"Yes. The special thing about these flowers is that they could only grow in the warmth of the werewolves, and they were the only ones to cure the poison caused by their roots."

"Wait. Are you suspecting..."

"Yes. Even strong lycans like His Highness can succumb to the root of the poppy. But it's flower is the cure."

"Where can I replace it? I will set out immediately and..."

"Polaris," One said, joining the conversation. "The last of it is in Polaris."

Eleanor swallowed, blinking. Polaris. She hated just how much that pack was intertwined with them. Just how much Polaris has come to leave a mark on all of them.

"I shall set out immediately. I will leave His Highness in your good hands."

The healers nodded, a small agreement passing between them. Eleanor turned away, her eyes set in stony determination.

She let the water pass her skin, her eyes closed, her chest lightly heaving. Her hair was damp, and she wrapped her hands around herself, tears filling her eyes.

The water was warm yet felt cold. Conaan was not here, and it made all of the difference.

She walked out of the bathtub, the dampness trailing behind her.

Eric was attended to by a male healer, and was in the large room in the palace, side by side with Matthew.

"How is he?" Eleanor asked, her eyes fixed on Eric. She did not know him, and she believed he was probably someone who had been absent while she was around.

"He is responding to treatment. But, he lost a wrist."

She watched him again, then gave a small nod. "For good cause. I shall not forget his bravery."

The healer nodded, even though he did not quite understand.

"How is he?" Eleanor asked again, gesturing to Matthew.

"Well, he could wake up anytime soon. His heart has picked up its beat now."

She gave a small smile. "They both are responding to treatment well then. I hope His Highness does too."

The healer nodded in agreement, but said nothing more to her. She adjusted the sheets around Matthew, then slowly stepped out of the room, towards Conaan's chambers.

The soldiers that would accompany her to Polaris were waiting outside, and she made her way back to Conaan to say goodbye.

The healers were gone now, and they would be back soon to continue treatment. She could hear the prayers outside. And she hoped to everything alive that Conaan would respond.

She leaned forward, then placed a small kiss on his forehead, her fingers gently caressing his hair. "I will be back," she whispered, wishing he would tell her that he would wait.

She gave a small sigh when the same silence met her, and slowly, she turned away, her fists clenching so the sadness does not leak out of her eyes.

"Now," she said, her hand raising to gesture the soldiers forward. Her hair was in a tight bun behind her head, and she tightened her grip on her ride, before the journey started.

Polaris was gloomy, dark clouds hanging above it. The remaining wolves were assembled just behind the pack's entrance, waiting for what they knew would come.

The death of Alpha Alexander had reached them already, and it had come as a surprise that the lycans had not conquered the pack yet.

Ruth, the now widowed Luna stood in the very front, her hair flying down her back, a simple white gown hanging on her shoulders. She held her head up, tears running down in long lines towards her lips, as she watched the dust rise even higher.

She was not mourning the loss of her mate, no. He had, after all, spent more time obsessed with becoming victorious over Conaan, that he had not had much time to be a husband or a mate to her. Or even be there to know about their unborn child.

"Luna. They are here."

She nodded, then watched as the gates opened to the lycan rides. Eleanor was leading, and to an extent, it was better to be found by Conaan than by Eleanor. She was, most times way more merciless.

Ruth swallowed, then slowly went down on her knees in front of Eleanor. The wolves stood by, before slowly following their Luna's gesture.

Eleanor's brows furrowed. She had not expected them to surrender like that, but to be honest, it worked for her that they did.

"Have mercy," Ruth said, her pride crumbling before her. "You can make whatever you want of us, but have mercy. We beg of you."

Eleanor walked closer, her eyes thin. Slowly, she turned to the soldiers. "Let it be known, that Polaris has surrendered to King Conaan."