Lycan's Affection
The Message

"Your Highness?"

Conaan raised a brow from the petition he was reading, then sought Brandon's eyes.

"Did something happen?"

Brandon swallowed, moving a little closer. "The body of a wolf was found in the territory. It looked almost lifeless, and has lost all but little of his blood."

Conaan raised a brow. "So? Dump it back over the fence."

Brandon swallowed. "It is Alexander's younger brother."

Conaan turned to him, his eyes immediately thinning, his mind calculating. "Alexander's brother?"

Brandon nodded. "I do remember how much he defended Eleanor when they first came, and how he appeared to be rather sensible despite everything. We do not know why he has done something like that to his own brother, but we can only replace out."

Conaan listened for a while, his fingers grazing each other, his eyes thin. Brandon watched him, then gave a small sigh and came to sit next to him.

"Are you scared?"

Conaan raised a brow. "Of?"

"Of letting Eleanor's past back into her life."

Conaan let his eyes dart across Brandon's and he gave a small sigh. "I trust my woman with my life, Brandon. Even if Alexander was to appear in front of her, I do know that she will not desert me."

Brandon smiled, obviously relieved. "I am glad, Your Highness."

Conaan nodded. "Take him to my other chamber. Have a healer come to him, but I will see him first."

Brandon nodded, obviously satisfied with the growth between Eleanor and Conaan. "I....heard you are leaving tomorrow?"

Conaan nodded. "Safe to say, I am now desperate to replace the cure. When I come back, I hope I can promise Eleanor a forever."

"And me too," Brandon said a little playfully, squeezing Conaan's right shoulder.

Conaan turned with a small smile. "And you too, Brandon."

Jamie walked slowly home, skipping pebbles he found on the road, his eyes fixed on nothing in particular. He was a rather lanky boy who, due to an accident that claimed his brother's life, had to fill in for his more nature brother at the tender age of thirteen.

He would have to look for something to lie about to his aged oarents, as all they have ever wanted was for their son to serve His Highness in the force, and devote his life to him. Jamie wasn't sure how to explain that he wasn't quite up to the task even after a decade of training.

He gave a small sigh as he skipped the next pebble, his eyes following it. It darted over to the small stream, then landed right on a black rug, one that was so bone chillingly like the one he had found earlier.

His eyes widened and he stopped in place.

"There are two. What if there are accomplices or something? What if..."

A sudden movement from the rug jolted him back to reality and he moved backwards, his chest heaving in fear. Muffled sounds came from the rug, as the person in it moved, a part of it submerged in the small stream.

Jamie drew a hypothesis. They could have been dumped together, but this one rolled off over the slippery path and ended up here.

Finally summoning courage, he ran to it, then held on to the chains, pulling it hard. The first set of chains came off like they had been put there just for show, and he managed to open the rug.

Up came a battered pair of feet, and he continued to work the rest of the rug open. The person inside was now still, and he looked over him. He was just as lanky as him, but he could tell he was a wolf.

He swallowed hard. He couldn't drag him back to the army post. And this one, unlike the other was badly beaten up, cuts everywhere on his face and he was sparsely clothed. Drawing a final conclusion, he decided to run home and bring Jenna, his younger sister, and together, they would help him home.

Brandon helped to bring Matthew in and he was settled on the large bed. He had been washed off, and he seemed better now, although still very close to death.

"The healer is on her way. You do not need to check everything yourself, Your Highness. You have a trip tomorrow."

Conaan's eyes were however thinned at Matthew. "Did he come unclad?"

Brandon shook his head. "No. He was fully clothed. Why?"

Conaan pushed his hands behind him, then began to make his way towards the bed. "You know the war significance of bodily writing?"

Brandon raised a brow. "You think we will replace out why he was here from him?"

"Especially if he knew of what fate would befall him. Alexander is a blabbermouth, if he did this, then he would have told him."

Brandon watched as Conaan grabbed a small knife, then slowly leaned over the boy.

"What if there is nothing?"

"Ask the healer to rejuvenate him as soon as possible, then have him confess."

Brandon nodded, then without a word, watched as Conaan sliced through the grey material of the loose shirt he was wearing. His skin was fair with no marks underneath, and Conaan's eyes thinned.

"There is nothing."

Conaan nodded, then dropped the knife. "Turn him over."

"Your Highness..."

Conaan looked up to Brandon, and the other gave a sigh. Gently, he turned Matthew over, so he was lying on his face.

Conaan leaned forward, looking over the marks made by fire right under the boy's arm.

"I think he has written me something."

Brandon squinted at the marks. "It does not make sense."

Conaan laughed. "Of course it does. It is in traditional war braille. I did not expect someone with the same blood as Alexander to have some intelligence."

Brandon chuckled, then watched as Conaan raised his right index finger, then closed his eyes. He followed the path of the marks, his brows furrowing as he occassionally went back to some scars, then moved forward again.

Slowly, his eyes opened and he gave a small sigh, his eyes thinned.

"What did he say?"

Conaan was silent for a bit. "It is rather amateurish but he said...Do not dilute my blood."