Lycan's Affection
A Knife, A Sickle, A Breeder

Brandon held onto Conaan as he knocked on the door, his eyes half squinted. He was tipsy too, but Conaan had drank and he was almost unable to stand on his own. He gave a small sigh as the door opened to reveal a startled Eleanor, who seemed like she would have come running had they taken anymore time coming up to her.

"What happened..."

"He drank. I will put him to bed."

Eleanor turned to Conaan, but immediately moved away, her eyes wide. Brandon entered into the room, ignoring Conaan's gibberish. He helped him into the bed, putting him face up.

He moved away, then pulled the sheets above him, his eyes sweeping over him.

"Will he be okay?"

He nodded. "He will sober up quick enough. Do not worry."

She nodded slowly, her worried eyes turning to Conaan again. He was smiling a rather wistful smile. She abandoned what she wanted to say to Brandon, then slowly walked to Conaan.

She sat at the edge of the bed, only vaguely hearing as Brandon closed the door behind him.

"My love."

His eyes were gazing up and he turned to her, his chest slightly heaving. He gave a small sigh, and his fingers came to slowly clasp around her hand, keeping her in place.

"Kiss me till I am sober."

She broke into a smile, her head shaking. "What if I do not want you forgetting anything? What if I want you to remember every single detail?"

He took his time replying, his fingers moving slowly against her arm. "I shall never forget you, Eleanor. Even if forever stretched one more day."

She leaned close to him. "That is comforting to hear."

He gave another smile, one of those that showed just how drunk he was. Otherwise, he just looked overtaken by emotions deeper than he could control.

"I should have told you what you mean to me."

Eleanor nodded, kissing his forehead. "You do not need to."

Quietness blanketed them, and she moved, lying beside him in the silence. It was comforting, and she watched as Conaan drifted off to a slow sleep.

Eleanor was wearing a white dress that flowed with the wind, her hair bounding off, the sunset illuminating it, sending golden specks through. Conaan could see as she smiled at everything, but instead of walking to him, she walked away.

Her steps slow, her smile big, and it showed in her eyes.

"Eleanor?" His voice was uncertain.

She turned, smiled again, then turned away, her fingers caressing the flowers on each side.

"Eleanor." His voice was shaky this time, and he could feel his chest tighten. It was beautiful, yet so...

"Eleanor." This time, she stopped walking and then slowly turned to him. Her smile was still there, and she watched him with the most loving eyes he had ever seen. Suddenly, he felt it.

The pain stabbing through him, his blood splashing on her, tainting the innocent beauty she carried.

"No!" Conaan woke up with a start, his eyes wide, his chest heaving. He was bathed in a cold sweat, the light of the morn not doing much to usher in gaiety. He swallowed hard, his hand coming to his hair, his chest heaving.

He hated to think it was what would happen if he did not replace the cure. He hated to think...

"Brandon!"

Brandon immediately walked in, his eyes wide. "I was just about to come. The council members await you in the..."

"Loosen up security around Anderson. Let Alexander get to him and lead us to my cure."

Brandon stopped. "Do you feel.."

"No. Loosen it up twice a day. They will get a pattern."

Brandon nodded. "Immediately. I will be leaving for Grand city by evening, Your Highness."

Conaan nodded, and without a word, stumbled out of bed. He took his bath thoughtfully, his eyes fixed on a certain petal like it held all of the answers.

He never saw Eleanor, but he felt a little grateful for that too. He was not sure of how to look at her now. That image of her had been devastating.

The servant slowly smoothed the robes round his shoulders, then gently started to cuff the sleeves when another knock came.

"Your Highness."

He raised his eyes to meet Brandon's in the mirror. "Did something happen?"

"They brought a breeder, Your Highness."

Conaan turned. "What?"

"I thought they would simply propose it, but they brought a breeder. She is a daughter from the Levine's and they have brought the scroll of the right of continuity too. They have us exactly where they want us."

Conaan took in a deep breath, his eyes thin. "How did this happen?"

Brandon shook his head. "If a breeder is brought, then you will have to let her..."

"Even Eleanor has not done that just yet!"

Brandon sighed, biting down on his lower lip. "I will tell them you are ill and..."

"No. I will deal with this the way I know how to do it best."

Brandon's brows furrowed, but he did not need to think about it much, as Conaan seized the small knife on his bedside table.

"Your Highness..."

Without a word, Conaan walked away, tying his hair up into a bun, the knife between the silky strands, somehow holding each other in place.

"What did you just say?" Eleanor asked, straightening. Her chambers were filled with rose petals she had been working with, putting them in order as she waited to move them to Conaan's private chamber. Last night's appointment had been ruined, and tonight, she intended to give him his gift. Everything, however, seemed to be crumbling once more.

"The council of elders brought a breeder for His Highness to bed. According to the laws, if after four years, the King and his mate can not provide an heir, they have to have a breeder She will become his second.."

"No woman..." Eleanor said, her eyes almost bulging. "No woman will share Conaan with me."

"My lady..." The servant said, swallowing. "His Highness has gone to see them. You need to do something. Maybe a protest..."

Eleeanor swallowed, then stood, the small cloak on her shoulders falling off to reveal the slimmer black dress under it. She was heavily bathed in the scents of roses, and without a word, she grabbed the small sickle she had used earlier to harvest the roses.

"My lady..."

Barely stopping to wear her shoes, she walked out of the chambers, her steps stiff and determined.