Lycan's Affection

Conaan woke up with a start, a pain he was now familiar with ripping through his chest. Luckily, the bed was empty, and he immediately left it, running briskly towards the private bath house in his chambers.

He rarely used it. While it was all covered and would give him more privacy, he preferred to clear the guards and every other person around the area of the bigger one.

It offered a stunning view of the sky above him, and he simply liked the vastness.

For this, however, he could not go too far.

He opened the door, leaning his weight heavily on it. The knob gave way, however, and he fell to his knees, his hair falling even more out of place than Eleanor's caring hands had left it.

He coughed, feeling his body go hot as he managed to pull himself to the water. He had barely got there, when the blood spurted out of his mouth, coloring the edge of the smaller bath pool.

His head felt almost nonexistent, his entire body feeling fluid under him.

The blood didn't stop, and he could feel the liquid drop under his nose too, his chest slightly heaving.

It hurt like crazy. And he had to admit Alexander did get him real good with that poison, because for the first time in his life, he felt powerless.

He finally laid down, his chest heaving, his lips stained with his own blood, his eyes closed. He was by now familiar with the pain, but it did not make it any easier to take in.

He knew what would come next. The coughs. And he wasn't wrong. It ripped through his chest like waves of pain, like a double edged sword working inside him at both edges, slicing and cutting.

He let out a helpless breath, closing his eyes tight.

Brandon leaned towards the door. It was unusually silent, and he was sure he had seen Eleanor saunter away to her chambers, a rather cute smile on her face.

Giving up, he gave a small knock. There was no answer. Conaan was usually always alert, and that knock was more than enough.

Brandon knocked again, this time harder, wondering if Eleanor had gotten him to let his guard down so much.

It was a funny thought, and Brandon smiled a little to himself. But by the third knock, he started to grow apprehensive.

He slowly opened the door.

There was no one. He heaved a small sigh of relief, and started to turn away, thinking he would be in the bath house or in the grand chamber, but something caught his eye.

A drop of blood stood out distinctively on the floor. His eyes widened as he walked in, then leaned towards it.

It was indeed blood.

"Your Highness?" He called, his heart beating wildly in his chest.

There was no answer. No one on the bed, and the blood could only lead to....

He turned. The private bath house was half open, and he briskly walked to it, opening it even wider.

Bright tourches burnt in all four corners, and there, by the sharp edge closest to the door, was Conaan, lying on the floor next to water that was now stained with his blood.

"Your Highness!" Brandon gasped and immediately ran to his side. Conaan was unconscious, his hand splayed out on his side, the other dangling off the water.

Brandon went to his knees, his hand going up to his hair, tears filling his eyes. Slowly, he brought Conaan close to him, then started to prop him in his arms.

With a swift jerk, he pulled him into his arms and swiftly made it out of the bath house.

He carefully put Conaan on the bed, then got a wet towel ready, and cleaned off the blood. He got rid of the robe Conaan was wearing, then sat down beside him, clueless.

The healer had said there was nothing she could do. They required a sacrifice from his mate, and even that looked bleak now.

Brandon swallowed hard, tears filling his eyes, his lips quivering. Never in his life had he expected to see Conaan so helpless, so weak. It made him even more scared, made him lose hope more.

Conaan suddenly gave a low groan and Brandon moved closer, the tears stilling in his eyes, his eyes wide.

"Your Highness? Your Highness, how do you feel?"

Conaan's eyes fluttered open and he slowly turned to Brandon. His dark green eyes were hooded by his lashes, his skin paler than normal.

"Your Highness..." Brandon said again. "We have to do something. Eleanor has to..."

"No." Conaan's voice was raspy, his breath short. Just the word looked like it took a lot of his energy, and he sighed.

"Your Highness." Brandon's hand tightened around Conaan's fingers desperately. "We need to do something. Every time this happens and wake up, the healer said you are inching closer to when you will not. I will..."

Conaan closed his eyes and Brandon stopped talking, his chest heaving, tears threatening to fall.

"I have never seen you cry."

Brandon bit down on his lips. "Your Highness..."

"It is just as I expected. Hideous."

Brandon forced a smile, even though his hand said otherwise, tightening even harder around Conaan's. If desperation could cure Conaan, Brandon's alone would suffice.

"I only need to rest. It will get better."

Brandon did not argue this time, and he let Conaan's hand go, then arranged the sheets around him.

"I will keep all court related matters away. I will handle the ones I can. As for Eleanor..."

"Just tell her I have a slight fever."

Brandon nodded resignedly, his hand coming up to Conaan's forehead as he slowly patted it, pushing his hair back.

He gave a small sigh, then gently kissed Conaan's hand.

"I do hope it only gets better."

Conaan nodded, his eyes finally closing as he gave in to the fatigue. Brandon stayed for a bit longer, until he was sure Conaan was asleep before he walked away, noiselessly closing the door behind him.

"Oh, you are here, Brandon. I was just going to see Conaan."

He stopped for a minute, before turning to Eleanor. She had obviously gotten all dressed for Conaan, her hair in boundless waves down her chest and back.

"Is something wrong?"

Brandon gave a small sigh. "His Highness has a fever. He is resting now."

She immediately, without another word, turned to the door, and let herself in. With a small sigh, Brandon walked away, his head low.