Lycan's Affection
Dusk of Terror

Conaan opened his eyes to the first rays of the sun. It was all warm and fuzzy around him, the oils Eleanor had massaged into his hair leaving him feeling relaxed, his eyes threatening to drift to a close once more.

He pushed the feeling away, and moved, his eyes fluttering open. Eleanor was laying next to him, her head resting on his chest, her lips slightly parted. He leaned a little, his hand moving strands of her hair away.

Over a thousand nights, and he would still replace her sleeping form absolutely gorgeous.

He smiled a little, his eyes clouding over as he watched her. She was a little bundle of everything he had ever wanted all his life in one person, and whole she was with him, everything seemed to fall away.

“Your Highness?”

He sucked in a sharp breath, his lips sucked in. Sometimes he wondered what it would take him to simply appreciate her sleeping form without having to leave.

He turned, careful not to upset her. Slowly, he moved, then brought a pillow to replace jim. He waited till she was settled on again, before he moved, then stood up, his hair falling on his shoulder. Shadow was standing there, his back slightly turned to them, so Conaan could only see his profile.

“Anderson, am I right?”

Shadow nodded. “He received a letter from Alexander last night. However...”

“However?” Conaan asked, collecting the letter Shadow thrust out to him. “It is gibberish?”

“No, Your Highness. It seems to be written in a wolf code. I copied everything written on the original paper.”

Conaan looked at it, trying hard to discern it. But it was not even the traditional war language of the werewolves.

“Keep an eye on him. Tail whatever he does. If you think ot might get out of control...” Conaan trailed off and Shadow nodded, understanding him.

The entire thing was meant to keep Anderson in control. If he was not, then..Shadow had Conaan’s permission to kill him.

“I will take my leave now.”

Conaan nodded, then turned to Eleanor. She was still asleep, and he sighed, a bit frustrated that the little fairytale get away was over. He walked back to the rug, then sat next to her, his brows still furrowed as he read the signs again and again.

“Conaan?”

He looked up, then grabbing the pillow, he thrust the paper in, just before her eyes opened, and a smile lit up her face.

He let out a breath, then returned her smile, hugging the pillow to himself.

“You are up early.”

Conaan nodded. “Well, I need to take care of a few petitions before the festival tomorrow.”

He leaned forward, his hand gently caressing her hair, so it framed around her face.

“What can I help with?”

He shook his head. “I will be fine.”

She nodded, then slowly sat up too, a small breath escaping her. “I will wait.”

He nodded again, then slowly stood up. Gently, he moved, then suddenly lifted her into hos arms, bridal style.

“Conaan.”

“Let me,” he said, his smile small.

She nodded. “I was not complaining.”

He laughed, then helped her up to the chambers.

The entire palace was awake with the hustle bustle of activities, the large palace grounds normally used for the festival decorated in warm lights and flowers. Conaan watched the proceedings from the balcony, and he turned to the woman.

She looked up to him too, a bit of fear and confusion in her aged light brown eyes, then shook her head. “I could only discern two words, Your Highness. I can not tell what code was used, and I am not entirely sure, but it seems plausible.”

Conaan raised a brow. “What word?”

“Brother. Cure. I have tried applying the same techniques for the remaining, but it seems every word has a unique encoding behind it. The writer is very clever.”

Conaan swallowed, his eyes thinning. “Brother? Does that not...”

“My love?”

Conaan turned to her, his eyes a little wide as he thrust the letter away, then waved his dismissal at the woman. She nodded, understanding the discreetness, and walked away, bowing to Eleanor.

“My love. I do not know what to wear.”

He smiled. “Everything will...”

“That is so passive.”

He smiled again, then nodded. “Do you want me to watch as you try them on?”

Her eyes immediately lit up, and she nodded, then started to walk away. His hand wrapped around her waist, and she stopped, then turned to him.

“Is something wrong?”

He released her hand, then tucked it back into his pockets. The sun was slowly setting behind them, and he could feel the impending sense of doom weigh down on him.

“Does...Alexander have another brother aside Matthew?”

Her brows immediately furrowed into dark hatred. “Did he do something?”

“Eleanor...” Conaan said, covering the distance, his hands cupping her cheek. “I just need to know.”

She swallowed. “Their mother apparently died after Matthew’s birth. Their father understandably hated him up until his death. Why?”

“So Alexander took care of him?”

“You saw it, Conaan. He loved Matthew with everything. I am not sure how Matthew ended up this way under Alexander’s watch, but it is hard to predict that bastard.”

He chuckled, pinching her right cheek a little playfully. “But...what if...Matthew knew something that could strengthen the lycans against the werewolves?”

Eleanor seemed to think about it. “Is there something he knows? If the werewolves were doing something...”

“It is regarding the poison, Eleanor.”

Her lips parted, and she swallowed, guilt filling her up once more. “You got over it, did you not?”

He watched her, trying to gauge her reaction. Her eyes quickly filled, and she grabbed on to his robe, her lips starting to quiver. “You got over it, did you not?”

He blinked, then slowly nodded. “Yes. Yes, I did Eleanor.”

She swallowed, her hand coming up to his face. “I trust you. You would not lie to me.”

He nodded. “Why would I? I just need to know, just in case. What if Alexander tries to use the poison on the lycans sometime?”

She thought about it, her eyes squinted. “You think Matthew knows? That is why he did that to him?”

Conaan nodded. “But you do not have to worry. Hopefully, I will take care of it.”

She nodded again, her hands coming up to wipe the tears, just as Conaan’s hand reached for it. She immediately went into his arms, burying her face in his chest, her hands wrapping around him.

He felt warm, and she would hate for the past to come back and haunt her that way. It would kill her. If something happened to Conaan, she would die.

Conaan patted her hair gently, his eyes setting in determination. Now he was sure, Matthew was, for sure, the key to his cure.

He sat up long after Eleanor had slept off, his mind roaming. If his cure was right in his home, if Matthew knew what it was, he needed to keep a clue.

Slowly, he stood, then walked slowly to the arrangement of flowers close to the bed. It was Eleanor’s favorite pastime, clearing of those flowers. Slowly, he pressed the letter in, with one of his own.

“If anything happens to me, take care of Matthew.”