Lycan's Affection
The Crack of Dawn

The dawn was just starting to crack, and Alpha Alexander stood in front of the troop, his eyes thin. They were a short mile away from the lycan kingdom, and the signature foh filled the entire area, even worse that it was still dawn.

“Alpha,” Ian said, his eyes thin. “Anderson is not here yet. I could see the palace preparations for the festival, and this is the only time we have.”

Alexander cussed under his breath, as he slowly paced the length, his hand raking through his hair.

“Alpha. We need to make a decision now. If the city wakes up, we will be doomed.”

Alpha Alexander swallowed hard, then turned to Ian. “Go to Alexander. We will crouch here till dusk falls again.”

“But Alpha. It is unbelievably cold and...the soldiers are....the cold will kill us before Conaan does!”

Alpha Alexander met his eyes, then slowly covered the distance, his eyes wide. Suddenly, he grabbed his collar, and lifted the shorter man a little so he would meet his eyes.

“Your job description is to lay your life down for me. And if the cold kills you, then so be it! Now go!”

Ian nodded, then immediately walked away, leaving the rest of their troops taking their camouflaged positions around the bushes.

In the lycan palace, Conaan sat up straight. His eyes thin as he stared off at nothing in particular. He had gone to see Matthew, and the boy was only still regaining color. No consciousness, nothing. Three healers stood on him each day, yet he simply will not wake.

Conaan sighed in frustration, his eyes thinning even more. Would it be better if he told Eleanor? Would she be able to take it?

He swallowed, shaking his head. It should not matter. They would be able to solve it together. At least, he was now sure Matthew was the cure.

If Eleanor knew...maybe. Just maybe she could help.

“Conaan?”

He swallowed, then turned to her, a small smile lifting his face. “You are here.”

Eleanor nodded, then walked around to him, slowly lowering herself onto the thick rug.

“You look bothered.”

He was bothered, and he wished it was not so hard to share it with her.

“I...well. I am worried.”

“Is it Alexander?”

He slowly shook his head. “I am not sure what it is, but something bothers me. I just hope it works out.”

Eleanor watched him, her hand moving to remove a strand of hair from his face. She said nothing for the longest while, then shook her head.

“It reminds you of too much, does it not?”

His brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

She lifted her eyes. “Your scar. You started to clear it off.”

“Clear it off? Is there a way to clear a scar off?”

She shrugged. “Well, I am not sure how, but half of your scar is gone.”

Conaan’s brows furrowed darkly, and he suddenly stood up, then went to the nearest reflective glass, his eyes wide. The scar that had run over his right eye from the brow, crossing over the lids and then just across the bridge of his nose was now reduced to the part right from his eye upwards. Everything else was gone.

He moved away from the mirror, his chest slightly heaving. The wheels in his head turned hard and fast, and he suddenly walked briskly away towards the chambers.

The scroll Meredith had left was tucked away in his safe, and he quickly removed it, then reopened it.

It was the same message, but now, he noticed something else. Under the paper attached to the silk scroll, was a much smaller, almost unnoticeable paper. He never noticed it before, and he peeled off the first paper, then brought it out.

“Everything from the scar down to the poison is intertwined. Everything from the scar to the poison, is exactly as it should be.”

He swallowed as he remembered the way that man had renewed the scar and told him he would understand.

His chest started to hurt, and he pushed the scroll away, his heart beating rapidly. A new wave of nausea overtook him, and he held his head, trying hard to navigate towards the bed.

He did not replace it as he fell to the ground on his knees, blood spurting out of his mouth. His chest heaved with the pain, even worse than before, and his eyes watered, his hand coming up to massage it.

He felt hot everywhere, his body weak under him, his heart slowing up sometimes and then increasing pace in an unhealthy rhythm. It sent the world around him spinning fast, the large vase, the lights, everything seemed to be running around him too fast, faster than his brain could process and he felt his body give way under him.

The sudden clatter of steel on the floor did nothing to revive him, and he started to fall back, his lips parted, his face turning a deathly pale.

“Conaan!” Eleanor yelled, as she crossed over, then caught his body, just in time before he hit the ground, his eyes rolling back, his lids closing.

Her eyes were wide as she turned to the floor, the blood, the scar that was half gone, while the other half darkened considerably, lookong almost like a burn on his now pale skin.

“Conaan. Conaan, please. Conaan. Talk to me Conaan, look at me!” She shook him, but all he gave was a small moan, his hair falling back across her fingerrs, his hand falling to the floor beside her.

Anderson’s Manor.

It was quiet, and Anderson slowly tapped on the table, his eyes thin. The fog had started to clear with the quickly rising sun, and he swallowed. The guards had not budged all day, although there were only five around him now.

Most times, there were at least fifty. He surmised it was because of the festival, and the palace would need as much protection as it can get.

He sighed and sat back, before suddenly, he heard the faint clatter of swords. He sat up, his eyes wide, then started to move for his walking stick, his heart hammering against his chest.

He wondered if they had finally come for him, and he knew that he had been under probation. Did they finally get what they want?

He grabbed his stick, then started to stand up, just as the attacker walked in, and leveled the sword at his throat.

Anderson’s breath caught on his throat, as he lifted his eyes to the attacker.

“Who...are you?”

The man slowly removed the black hood that had been covering his face, and he slowly lifted his eyes to meet Alexander’s.

There was a bit of silence, before Anderson broke into laughter, then shook his head.

“I thought you would send Ian, Alpha Alexander.”

Alexander gave a small smile. “I sent him to distract someone else.”

Anderson’s brows furrowed as he started to settle down again. “Who?”

Alexander laughed, then sat, settling the bloodied sword on the floor. “Miles. Or should I say...Shadow.”

“You mean, Shadow had...”

Alexander gave a small smile. “I have always wanted my revenge on that bastard. You are free to go out now. How about we come in once the sun sets?”

Anderson nodded, his smile big. “You want to toast to that?”