Nellie
Nellie felt her stomach turn at the sight of the Prince's wounds. They were ugly gashes, with only the faintest of scabbing keeping a tenuous hold on his lifeblood. She was surprised that her regent had not already passed out.
"Hah, it'll be a miracle if anyone actually backs my claim to rule, though I'm sure Lord Corvus has already made a move to keep that from happening."
"Not so, sah" Nellie tittered before she could stop herself. "The kingdom is more than the capitol, and the colonies will neva' back anybeast not from the royal family." She immediately felt a little foolish for her quick remark, probably looking rather naive. But it was what she thought nonetheless. Why would the kingdom immediately fall behind an outside claimant when the heir was found to be alive? From all her reading of Mercian history, the realm had suffered succession crisis far worse than this and still weathered the storm. But it was far different to be that something that little felines would be reading about in school books decades from now, than to be reading along with them.
Her mind returned to the Prince's injury. It was something that was in her ability to treat, having rudimentary medical training from both her mother and Kosovo. The blanket that he had received from Jana could easily be torn into bandaging. But to get so intimately close with the Prince's person...that would definitely require permission. "Your Highness...may I dress your wound? They teach the tradesbeasts all the basics, and I know I can keep that from reopenin'." she began meekly, but finding her stride mid-sentence to end on a note of confidence.