Lycan's Affection

Eleanor followed behind Conaan as he walked briskly down the long halls. The locals had immediately recognized him, and the uproar had quickly died down too, giving way for songs of praises for the king that had been there to save his people. But it meant having to stop his tour and take care of the matters at hand.

Which, to him, was one person. A burnt village was a piece of cake for the royal treasury.

"Conaan..."

He didn't reply, as he gave a small sigh, then turned to a door. He fully intended to start the trip back home immediately, leaving his people to take care of the village. Brandon, would, in his place oversee the renovation of the village.

He opened the door and walked in, and Eleanor followed with an exhausted sigh. His trunks were in a corner, and without waiting for a servant as usual, he opened the first, searching for a suitable robe.

He soon found a black ensemble, and he pulled it out, then walked to the edge of the bed where he dried it off, then pushed his hair up in a bun.

"Conaan, you are injured."

"I can make the journey back home," he said, then pulled the robe over his shoulder. He had just pulled it over his arms when Eleanor walked over, holding the seamed edge of the robe, preventing him from pulling it over his chest.

He looked down at her, feeling a mix of emotions. His anger seemed to add up, considering how she was almost blamed for what had happened, and at the same time, he felt a sense of calm wash over his heart as he looked down at her endless pools of blue.

"Let me take care of it," she said, her voice soft.

He swallowed again, but he didn't say a word. Taking his silence for an agreement, she slowly removed the robe from his arm, revealing the injured shoulder.

It was a round burn, and his skin had turned a dark red from it.

"I am sorry," she said, removing the robe completely. She kept it back on the bed, then looked up to him again, her eyes pleading with a simple request.

Like an obedient boy, he went over to the bed, then sat, his legs crossed under him, his eyes neutral.

From his expression alone, it was hard to tell how much of an effect she had, how much she drove him to a near insanity.

He watched as she got a servant to bring a couple things. As if scared of the proximity, she waited by the door for the servant who didn't take long.

He handed it all to her, and she went over to Conaan. Slowly, she went on the bed too, kneeling.

"It might hurt."

He nodded. "What has not?"

Her gaze caught his, and she looked away. Slowly, she brought the ointment to her finger, then moved forward, till there was almost no space between them.

She leaned forward, then gently started to rub the ointment on the burn.

She looked down to him and his eyes were closed, his breaths pretty even.

"About Esmeralda..." she started to say. "Well, before I eft, I knew she was infatuated with rhe idea of a prince, but how did you both...I mean did you ever..."

Conaan nodded. "She was meant to be your replacement."

Eleanor swallowed the bile that rose in her throat. "Then what happened?"

He looked up to her. "I left. I could not bring myself to do it."

She rubbed the ointment gently, then pulled away to scoop a bit more. Gently, she held his hand, then started to rub it on his palm too.

"I bet she would have done anything for you."

He searched her eyes, then swallowed. "I hope the fact that I feel the same is as clear to you, Eleanor."

She swallowed, then opened her mouth to say something, but nothing emerged. "Conaan..."

"Permit me to say this once. The physician who diagnosed you back in the temple...maybe I did know she was lying immediately. Maybe I did know you were not pregnant for Alexander. But I was scared as anyone could be. For the first time in my life, I felt abstract, naked fear. And in the pool..." he trailed off, his eyes blinking rapidly.

"It felt like all sorts of things. You were there, your body to me. But where is your heart? How much longer? How much more?"

She moved forward, her right hand cupping his cheek. "Conaan, I was..."

"I am scared of losing you. I am not as scared of anything ese. I know how it felt to lose you once. I can not shake off the feeling that I may have your body, but have you really forgotten the man who had you first? Have you finally come to a conclusion that I may deserve you too?"

"Alexander didn't have me first. I went to him, but..."

Conaan watched her, waiting, his breath baited. He let out a small breath when she didn't continue, and he passed his hand through his hair, unconsciously releasing it from the bun.

"Say something, Eleanor. I do not know how much I can hold on to all of the uncertainties."

She swallowed, shaking her head, her hand unconsciously squeezing her dress. "I am just as most. But Conaan, the pregnancy, it is impossible. I and Alexander never had that sort of relationship. We got real close, but..."

He closed his eyes, both relief and agitation washing over him, his teeth slightly unclenching. "Maybe I prefer to not talk about him."

"Conaan..."

"You are not waiting on my forgiveness anymore, Eleanor. I can give you much more. Now I am the one who is waiting for you. To love me."

He swallowed, like he had scorched his throat, then turned away, his eyes blinking rapidly. It was rare to see Conaan this emotional, this bare, and she wondered if anyone had ever gotten to see the same.

Instinctively, she reached for his face again, then gently turned it to her, her eyes meeting his.

Dark green eyes met bright blue, and it cascaded in a bubble of intensitry.

"You don't know how hard it still is. I look in the mirror and I see the man you didn't want. I want to be able to know that you love me enough to stick by me. To deem me worthy of a life time. Of a forever. I want to be worthy of you, regardless of what that takes. And I wish you would tell me. I wish you would tell me how to be the man you want, the man you believe you deserve. I wish you'd..."

His voice trailed off as she suddenly moved forward, her forehead connecting with his, her nose brushing his. Her lips parted as she breathed slowly, her hand coming to the nape of his neck.

His breath faltered a little as his eyes searched het, the raw emotions that seemed endless in his setting her off, his hand still staying clasped in front of him, like touching her would burn him.

"Conaan..." She was almost breathless with the proximity, her fingers spreading out slowly to caress his skin.

"I wish you would tell me how to stop looking for you in every face that I see."

She swallowed, then damning the consequences, damning whatever would come after, whoever would come after, she moved, closing in on his lips, taking him once, wholly, willingly.

And she wished she could tell him how she didn't need him to do all of those things.