Lycan's Affection

Eleanor made her way into the spacious open chamber, her eyes wide. The guards outside had admitted her on Brandon's order and she walked in, holding the knife she had grabbed like it was Anderson's throat.

"Anderson!" She yelled, her voice slightly breaking.

He sat up, his eyes immediately thinning. "This must be a bad day. Why is the wench coming here?"

"You killed King Javier."

He looked at her, then Brandon behind her, before he burst into a small snicker. "Seeing how King Conaan isn't here, you might just know the real story."

"How could you? How could you dream of doing that to father? Why did you not do it yourself? Because you are that big a coward? Because you knew you are not man enough for the things you want?"

"Do not dare come here and run your mouth because you have Conaan wrapped around your little finger. I have not reached the goal yet. I will have you disgraced, stripped. My daughter will be the one to occupy that position. I did not wipe out two old bastards to have you little vixen overpower me. And Conaan..." he trailed off, laughing. "I remember how much he did not want to be king. Seeing how he would have to lose his father for it. But for my daughter, a prince is not enough. I made him king!"

She suddenly knelt to his height, her face close to his. He could see the feral anger that tainted her light blue eyes, the way her jaw was clenched, but still didn't stop the quivering of her lips.

"I would love to see you try, Anderson. You succeeded with father. He did the unspeakable. But you...not Conaan, I will paint the walls of your house with your blood, I swear it." Her eyes however, was ladden with guilt. More than Anderson, her father...her father had been the one to wrong Conaan back then.

He leaned back, laughing. "Look at that feisty attitude. The last time I remember you were so small and..." He stretched his leg so he rested it on her lap, his eyes flicking back up to her. "I would ask you for massages on my feet."

Brandon's eyes fixed on Eleanor as his grip on his sword tightened. He took a step forward, but Eleanor started to speak, her fingers tightening around her own knife.

"I remember, uncle Anderson. Guess what? I grew and not massages, I will leave knives in your feet now."

Before he could think about it, her knife had already plunged between his big toe, tearing through the flesh till he could feel it deep inside his foot.

He reeled back with a shirll yell, his blood staining her dress, and the floor as he wiggled around, the pain maddening.

"I will make sure you can not scream next time." Her teeth were clenched as she said it, and she stood up, without another word stomped away.

Brandon swallowed, obviously unnerved by her sheer brutality. In that moment, not Eleanor, he had seen Conaan. He saw exactly why they fit so much. Both were beasts of the same kind.

With one last gaze at the wailing man, he turned away, following behind Eleanor. She stopped a short distance to the palace, however, finally letting the guilt break through her, crushing her soul.

"You hate my father too, am I right?"

Brandon shrugged. "He is dead."

She swallowed, her hands coming to her face. "I am not."

Conaan was standing by the large window, his eyes thin and rather blank. He was overlooking the large buildings that characterized the Lycan capital city, His hands clasped behind him.

It was rather silent, the dark skin book folded and kept on the bedside drawer, the hilt of a sword resting on the side to which he was standing, still clearly sheathed.

Suddenly, the door opened slowly. He turned a little, availing his profile to Eleanor, who had just come in.

Her dress was stained with both blood and dirt, and he turned fully to her, his eyes thin. Her eyes were filled with tears, her lips slightly quivering.

She felt too guilty to go into his arms for comfort, and too broken inside to stay so far away.

He took in a deep breath, his eyes flicking down to her dress, then back up to her gace.

"Where did you go?" He asked, his voice low, his brow slightly raised.

She swallowed, blinking rapidly as she sucked in her lip. "I went to see Anderson."

He clenched his teeth as his wolf fangs threatened to grow. "Did you kill him?"

She swallowed as he slowly grabbed the sword next to him, unsheathing it. It was much longer than normal, and looked flexible enough to be used as a whip, but could still be used for everything else.

"Did you bring me his head, Eleanor?" His voice had the same emotionlessness, and she swallowed, lowering her head.

"No, Your Highness. I did not kill him."

His eyes watched her for a long minute, before without a word, he stepped back, nodding. "Are you in the mood for wine, then? I will prepare the cup in a minute."

She swallowed hard, then shook her head. "Your Highness..."

"I will bring back his head myself," he said simply, then started to walk, passing by her.

Eleanor turned, holding him around, her hand wrapping around his waist, her head resting on his side. "Please, Your Highness, please..."

"Please kill him faster, or please make him suffer before he dies?"

She let go, her eyes streaming now with tears, her body shaking from the force of her tears.

"Why are you crying?" He asked, his brows raised. "Why are you crying for that bastard?! Are you mourning his death? Are you already seeing what I will do to him?"

"Your Highness, please. Anderson...as much as I want to kill him, but....you are not this sort of monster." It was a futile attempt, but she hoped he would stop, not because she was enthusiastic about Anderson, but because it would help her own guilt. After all, her father was responsible for it.

"No!" Conaan yelled, causing her to move backwards. She had never heard him yell. "I am this sort of monster. I am this sort of monster, Eleanor! I am only soft for you. And what do you expect? That I sit back while that man killed my father? You want me to sit back while he has killed one of the few people I wanted to protect?!"

Eleanor's tears streamed even harder now. Slowly, she went on her knees, her hands clasped in front of her as Conaan moved away from her, his hand still grabbing the sword. His green eyes had turned a swirling dark red, his chest heaving with anger.

"If you really want to mete out punishment to your culprit, to King Javier's culprit, it is me. I am the daughter...of the traitor who killed your father. Anderson played the role of a coward, and I have never seen where that was punished."

His teeth clenched, his anger threatening to explode. He raised his head, his lips parting, as he watched her. She had never seen Conaan this way, but not a lot of people have killed his father. Not a lot of people can get under his skin the way she had.

"How dare you, Eleanor?"

She looked up, her tears streaming now. She closed her eyes, her body shaking hard, her lips quivering too much for her to form a coherent sentence.

"Answer me, how dare you?! Are you reining me in so much because you know exactly what I feel for you? Are you trying to tame what I really am, because you know how soft I am for you?" He yelled again, causing her to flinch a little.

Brandon suddenly opened the door, his eyes wide at the scene in front of him.

"Your Highness, you should not be so angry. Your health..."

"Get out, Brandon."

"Your Highness..."

"I said, get out!" He turned, sending his sword through the air. It darted an inch away from Brandon, and stopped right in the wall beside him.

Conaan's eyes were wide with anger as Brandon let out a small breath, his eyes turning to Eleanor. She was crying even harder now, her hands clasped in front of her, as she trembled.

Conaan turned to the nearest vase, his hand flicking it to the floor so it shattered in to pieces, and he fell alongside it, his chest heaving.

He was way too angry to settle for tears. Way you angry to see anything that wasn't blood.

Slowly, he stood again, and before anyone of them could try to stop him, he was gone, leaving only the slightly spicy scent of his lycan.