I don't mind,

perhaps @Warwick ?

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Within the royal den did she waste within, healing from the cougar attack. Her wounds were relatively light compared to what could be, and by the point her fur brushed over the healing scratches. Besides occasional limping on certain days, it looked like she was healing relatively well. Though that was only one issue amongst the many, as so is the growing stomach that she was reluctant to share with the rest.

"Could someone bring some water?" But her head peered out of the den, and she asked someone, anyone to fetch a leaf with some. Awfully sore and tired, paws felt swollen ; she hoped someone would take a pity on the Queen who does not pity others often.

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Many troubles plagued the once tranquil place of his mind, what with the absence of his siblings and the queens' ongoing condition. 

Most days he paraded the border with wonders if they were to reappear. If his initial guesses of Calhouns' disappearance were accurate, it was a concern of his if he was correct with his judgement when finding him that day lingering along the fine line of their territory. Did he find their father? Did he get as far as that even?

When his legs grew weary of his incessant patrolling, he found himself hovering near his dams den, just as a few others did to ensure her safety and her needs were taken care of when needed. 

The duke sat tall, a sentinel in his duty. And broke his stance and eyes so full of focus when the sound of his mother emerging overtook his clouded thoughts. 

He immediately got up, closing in on her swiftly to offer a comforting nuzzle. 'I'll get that for you now, Mother', and turned to move off toward a freshwater brook. Trotting, he kept his pace brisk so that he was brief in his task. 

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Returning to his dam, without a mutter of his arrival, he allowed himself entry into her hideaway, placing the concave leaf with the adequate amount of water contained within in front of her reach. The duke was mute, an unusual trait for him but one he found himself adopting more often than not during these challenging times. Only but the meekest of smiles addressed his sorrowful lips.

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"Thank you, Warwick." At the very least the first-born remained at home, but she started to worry for him. He was quite close with both Calhoun and Edith, it almost felt surprising he didn't venture off with them — it made the worry that they truly did get kidnapped and yet.. He didn't seem truly worried, more but a solemn attitude took toward, but dutiful as ever.

She lapped up the water before asking him, "how are you?" a part of her so desired to cradle him once more like a child, begging and pleading to not leave — to not leave her, and yet a pride continued onwards that held at bay. That continual line that seemed to happen and she wasn't sure how to break ; causing a somewhat disorder, and complexes to occur between the litter.

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A question not yet been asked of him, and although he contemplated lying to keep all at peace, he knew his mother would see through his supposed front. A heavily audible sigh was what escaped his unclenched jaw first, '...A little bit tired. With no news of my sibling's whereabouts, I can not help but allow my mind to sink further into dread with each passing day'. He took a deep breath, straightening his appearance and tilting his head from one side to the other in an attempt to unlock the tension he held in the entwined and spindled muscles of his neck. 

He looked at his mother, with eyes full of burden and want of release, but she looked so frail and feared his words would cause her more stress beyond her injuries and condition. But the duke wanted to share, perhaps he could be sent in search of them, or at least Remus in his place. 'I think I know where Calhoun has disappeared to'.

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"They are strong. The High Elk will guide them to safety." So she would wholly believed ; especially as both Edith and Calhoun were some of the most devouts out of them all. The few who asked the most questions and expressed a slight.. Frustration, she would say. Not outwardly to her, but sometimes their face contoured to something that displeased against the religion itself. Warwick, was the kinder of the whole litter — rarely did she note that he questioned herself. But those who held such close words to the High Elk, and especially blessed, would be shrouded by His love. 

.. But she raised a brow, ears forward listening to what he may think they would be. A silence, as an urging to continue.

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How he would pray, when pale skies grew hidden, retreating to a corner of the chamber that housed all royal siblings, and spoke to their High Elk. Many moons ago he had vowed to aid his brothers and sisters from walking down a path of error, yet he had already failed. 

His mother held silence and an all too knowing look that beckoned him to continue. '...Calhoun spoke of seeking out our father', a face contorted with slight disgust as his words flowed, 'He is curious to meet him, so I believe he has headed to Nightwalker territory. I just pray he has gotten that far and nothing has hindered his travels'. Warwick would leave out in which way this all materialised, by finding his brother lingering along their borders and with a purpose to cross over already at that stage. Had he not happened upon him, they may have already departed with no such farewell to any of them.

'Has Remus returned yet?'. If the soldier was not home, perhaps the duke would set off in search of his sibling, though part of his heart clenched to keep by his mothers' side as she lay so fragile.

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"If he is, at the very least it means his safe." But she questioned greatly, why he didn't tell her so? Celnes wouldn't mind (she would), if her young ventured to seek him. Training under them was a well thought, a perhaps a day to be wanted. Under the boogeyman would make them stronger — she knew that well. Yet her possessiveness over them didn't let those plans full through, as gradually so, despite raising them to be tools for Elkshire and herself.. She did love them, the motherly instincts babying them and more often or not though, not realizing the sudden switch between babying, ignoring, and Remus's training, was an awful mixture. Causing complications, she knew not of. Only from Vermillion, who didn't know her mother was spying on her.

"When I recover, I will visit personally — at the very least to see if he is there." Celnes didn't wish to send some guard to retrieve her own son, desiring to see with her own pumpkin-eyes that he was well. Alive, and safe.. Which should extend to Remus, but it didn't, "he is around here and there. If you call him, you may find him."

She wouldn't share just yet, that the Queen sent him on a spy mission toward The Pantheon fellows. They were so close that he could search one day and then return — but had yet gained any news from that. The thoughts of @Minthe were long forgotten, within the back of her head that she nearly forgot the whole situation if not for Warwick bringing up Remus.

There was other issues, then finding out their dirty secrets, if they had any.

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Warwicks' face creased. 'How can you be so sure of his safety?', his voice wavered in keeping cool, he had never had reason nor the disrespect to consider questioning his mother, but their sire had no presence in any of their lives. The impression Warwick held of them was... quite intolerable. He was no fool in understanding the alliance between both empires but there was no justification for believing the stranger would look after his dear brother. 

When I recover. 

The Elk prince was growing impatient though. He would not wish his mother to rush her health, but the longer his siblings were away with non-existant news of their wellbeing, the more he grew restless to go off in search of them.

Though her blazé motion toward Remus threw him off course. The guard had not been seen by him and assumed he had been called to duty for another purpose. It was not unusual for this to happen oft and Warwick did not know what to think at that moment and would digest all later. 

'Then Remus and I can visit the Nightwalkers. They are not that far, after all', there was determination in his tone, a pleading of sorts too to seek that supportive decision from his Queen.

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"Have you ever seen him, be so foolish enough to be within a compromising position?" When she thought of Calhoun.. She thought of the other Calhoun. The one that was her cousin, the one that looked like an exact replica of her son and even slowly were their personalities seemingly align so. She never saw him as a foolish man, rather he was quite safe within his actions as long as it aligned with the High Elk. A contradiction to her earlier words — but it was just an uncaring chance, but Celnes, felt at peace he was relatively alright.

"You are my heir, Warwick," it could be said she dotted on him much. The one she would push for excellence, even though he was so kind-hearted, she would hope her teachings would show him — the world was evil. But he was the chosen ; first born of her brood and the one through and through had stood by her side in a holy sanctuary. Blessed with such a coat similar to her own ; and eyes like the glowing fireflies of yellow. She gazed at him with a calmness, her paws ontop of each other while softly talking.

"When I cannot be in charge, it is you who takes the reigns. You do, what you feel is must."

Celnes gave him permission to act as he so saw fit, when it came to seeking Calhoun.

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He needn't even contemplate his mother's query, mentally answering it with a laughable yes. Since their tender young ages they were equally as daring, he and his brother, when it came to finding the tallest boulder to leap from, or returning that little bit past their curfews, unscathed from another venture. 

His Queen continued, and he was now the subject of her legacy. His face chiselled into a form of astonishing. It was not what he was expecting to be revealed to him at that moment. He had been geared up with reason aplenty to fuel his need to leave Elkshire, to search for the siblings that had departed. But now this. His mouth was agape, and he croaked incoherent words. 

Until he cleared his throat and straightened tall, he felt an overwhelming privilege, yet the title now weighed him down even more so than he had felt in recent days. There was more to be expected of him. He felt he had already let the High Elk down, he simply could not fail twice now under his mother's reckoning.

'...Why me, mother?'. Why him and not Calhoun or Aldritch?

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"You are the first-born, the eldest — out of eight." She smiled with an honesty, even though it wasn't the complete truth. He was the eldest, the very first-born out of them all and as well as — the most holy, and beloved so. His colors darkened like her own, and could be said an almost replica in fur and so if not for the gender he took and the difference in muscle ; as well as the pretty golden eyes he took. Always full of warmth. Sometimes she wondered, if he was too good for the Crown with troubles.

"You proved yourself for it."

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He could not help but beam at his mother. Torn between a sense of burden but also a privilege. He had been allocated a role in the royal rankings, and this brought many emotions to the duke. 

'I feel very honoured. Thank you', he hides well the bottled up explosion of happiness that flooded his internal feelings. He had proved himself worthy. To his mother. To their High Elk. There was already an accomplishment achieved he had not sighted. Always one to set his goals, his competition, and to aim bigger than what was expected of him; a focus set only for his satisfaction rather than anyone else's. So this was a true surprise.

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"I trust you to command what you see is right." She felt herself grow a bit tired, her body weary and exhausted for all that was happening. It sunk a bit, a slight sigh following at how.. Weak, she so felt. Not something she was particularly keen on feeling like or appearing, especially not before those who follow her, and especially, her kin as well.

"The High Elk will guide you," she said with a smile, slowly backening into the den once more.

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