Lycan's Affection

Conaan's body was carried by two assassins, and Eleanor followed, her hands wrapped around her. It had started raining suddenly, and along with everything, the rain seemed rather appropriate. The dark clouds, the gloom.

Eleanor's breath hitched, making her hiccup as she followed through the long, straight path in the palace.

"To the chamber."

The assassins nodded and walked in, and Eleanor gestured for the door to be closed behind her.

The people were outside in the rain, the smell of blood and death filling the entire kingdom, the bodies filling everywhere.

But the kingdom stood still, every heart beating silently as they waited. What would become of King Conaan? What would become of them?

He has never been brought back from war horizontally. It never did happen. But now...

Eleanor followed behind, then waited, tears pooling in her eyes as Conaan was lowered to the bed, his hair sprawling across the pillow, his arm dangling down the edge.

"We have sent for the entire convention. They are already on their way."

Eleanor blinked. "Organize a prayer session immediately. Pray for his life, for his..."

The assassins nodded as the words got stuck in her throat, and she stood there, her hands hugging her as they walked away.

The door came close behind her, and she turned, her eyes landing on Conaan once more. He was completely still, the room drowning in a silence that Eleanor's heart did not know how to bear.

She slowly covered the distance, the howls outside cutting through the air, filling it with doom and dread.

Eleanor swallowed, tears filling her eyes, her body trembling as she went down on her knees next to the bed. She reached for Conaan's hand.

He was warm, still, and maybe it was a figment of her imagination, a reflection of her desperation and of her need, but she thought his fingers curled around hers, keeping her in.

"Conaan. Conaan, please. I would do anything. Anything. I swear. Anything for you."

It was silent. Vacant. Something beautiful has left, and in its very absence was a proclamation that something had existed. Something beautiful, something eternal. Something so complete, so perfect.

And Eleanor hated to think of the prospect that more than a few unfinished stories are complete in their own self. And she hated to think that this could even be the end. That this could....

She swallowed hard, the sobs racking through her, her chest heaving so hard. Her heart broke over and over again, like she was replaying and replaying a scene of him falling away from her, into what could be an eternity of loneliness. Of soundless abysses.

The moon had risen over the darkened clouds when Eleanor woke up, her eyes squinted as she took in the scene before her.

Conaan was standing close to the drapes. The slow wind moved the drapes against his body, the white contrasting with his skin as it moved smoothly over his back.

"Conaan?"

He turned slowly, and he broke into a smile. The same smile she had fallen so hopelessly in love with. The same smile that had lit up the darkest parts of her heart. The same smile that had made her leave everything behind.

"Conaan?"

He chuckled again, tilting his head to the right so his hair fell to his side. "What are you doing? Come to me."

She slowly stood, her knees hurting from being on it so long, but it barely did matter. Slowly, her feet covered the distance, and she wrapped her arms around him, her face burying in his body, hopelessly hanging on.

"Conaan. Conaan."

He gave a small laugh. "I hate it when you cry."

"Then, do not leave. I need you right here, where else would you rather be?"

He let her go, then took a step back, so she could see his eyes. They now mirrored hers, teary, glassy, heavy with emotions.

"I am sorry," he whispered, his hand cupping the right side of her cheek. "I am sorry."

She shook her head, her breath hitching ad she tried to hang on to his hand, her lips parting, the tears threatening to choke her.

"Please. Please. Do not do this to me. I am sorry. I am sorry, please. Please."

Her words were hardly coherent, and she hated that the more tears streaked down her cheeks, the more seemed to pool in his eyes.

"I will not recover. I will not heal. I do not need to know if I can move on. I do not need to know. Just stay. Please, just stay. I beg of you."

Conaan did not say a word as he gently leaned in to her, his scent filling her, his warmth, his proximity staying as infinitely beautiful as it had been the first time.

His lips lightly brushed hers, knocking the breath out of her. It reminded her what it was like, falling in love slowly with him, then so hard, so fast, she was gone before she had a chance.

But now, she put everything into that kiss, knowing once she woke up from this dream she would be torn apart once more. Knowing she would regret being reminded of what having him by her side felt like. Knew that she would regret indulging in the fantasies in her head.

And sure enough, he was soon gone, reduced to nothing but the shadow of him laying on the bed, still, breathless, his heartbeat so weak she could not hear it where it used to beat so hard. Where it used to beat for her.

But he felt like he was gone, like his love, his essence, his perfection, and her...it was all gone with him.