I struggle with the concept that Tonic is mentally damaged. As we crowd around the table in the dining hall, I let my hand rest over my mouth as bucket after bucket of parts is dragged past the cracked door to be thrown on the burn pile that has seen way too much use in the courtyard. 

Verando and Victor are upset, while Adriam exudes concern. I'm lackluster at best, and this feels beyond my reach and out of my jurisdiction. His rage marks my arms and legs, though, much to my surprise, his tongue has cured me of the surface marks. 

It was something I wasn't entirely comfortable with yet; to think of him consuming my blood was enough to put me off of doing anymore as far as 'treatment'. 

Verando had taken me to change my clothes; he placed them on me with such care as I stared past him. As we stood in the dining hall, so close to the throne room, I'm grateful that he lingers beside me in an almost protective manner. My throat aches; it's hard to swallow and even more difficult to speak. 

Listening to them talk, it's all I can do not to tone out and admit defeat. It's not my call as to what to do with a young man who, until recently, was my protector. 

My bodyguard. 

My friend. 

I hear words like deranged and damaged go back and forth. A lycan drags an elven torso by his hair, and I could almost gag.

The scene makes me grateful we moved the two elves to a guest room after giving them a chance to get cleaned up, damaged as they were, I wasn't sure they could take watching their friends get scraped into a bucket. 

The stronger of the two had sucked back, deep inside himself, whilst the weaker one just cried endlessly. If it were up to Alpha, he believed it was unfair to keep them alive and felt as though we should put them out of their misery. 

They've seen enough to warrant releasing them from their torment. 

I struggle with this, but then I think of my trials with grief and wonder if I would have wished for the same. What kind of life would they have without a warlord to put them back together? Surely, they had witnessed more than I had, and I still have not recovered.

 Adriam catches my eyes , sighing, walking over to close the door only to have Sota push past him to enter with Frost following behind him. Ol' One Arm slams the door behind him, Frost flinches, excusing the behavior to Adriam who looks as disgusted as I do. 

The moon yellow eyes scour each of us, as if attempting to decide who was the most at fault, but with the return of the Alpha I hoped this meeting would trend much more in my favor. 

"Well. This is a right mess." Sota says in frustration. 

He runs his hand through his long locks, which, for once, are down around his waist and loose. It's nothing like the elven perfection I'm used to in long hair. It's thick, dense, and stark white with none of the translucent qualities that elven hair held. 

"Does anyone have a clue as to what the hell is going on?" The lycan demands, turning his attention Verando as silence falls over the crowd. "Atleast you finally decided to join us, just in time for everything to go to shit. Did you have a nice little retreat with the humans?"

Finally, Adriam speaks. "We think he's mentally deranged. War sickness if you will. When he saw Delta, something must have snapped."

"Isn't that convenient?" Sota practically spits. "So I suppose everyone who hauls off and kills captives gets this excuse? Do we give a free pass to everyone who cracks under the pressure?" His eyes turn to Alpha, and I feel the gray-haired man tighten, growing rigid, he had not moved from his stance in front of me. 

The look on Verando's face indicates that he's not the least bit surprised where that blame fell, despite my shock at the bold nature of such claims. 

"I feel like these are unusual circumstances." The warlord tells him simply.

 Sota slams his fist down on the table, everyone jumps except Alpha. It's like a crack of thunder, and for a moment, I wonder if he broke the oak plank.

"Bullshit." He thunders. "You have been defending that omega since he was a boy. He costs us valuable support that we could not afford to lose in the ranking ceremonies, and now, he has cost us multiple captives that could have been questioned. I've been told you want to euthanize our other two. When does it end, Verando? I'll be damned if I let you kill captives while that one remains alive!" 

A man with little control seems to shout the loudest, the pack's faith in the old guard had been shaken, and after following Sota and Adriam only to almost meet their demise on the battle field, it was obvious that support for the new leadership had fallen. Sota's eyes were that of desperation, a man on the brink of losing what little respect he had left. 

Verando was slowly becoming very difficult to replace, and with his return, my warlord obviously felt comfortable in that his decisions would go unchallenged in the general population of the pack. Or else, Sota wouldn't be here causing such a scene. 

The white haired man meets the icy gaze of our Alpha, and they lock their eyes for what seems like an eternity. Verando doesn't respond to the prompting, simply standing with a hard expression that seemed to light a match under the inferno building within Sota.

"This must end. Today. We can no longer afford to sacrifice our lives and our positioning for this omega. We need to execute him or cast him away, and you know which I prefer. We can not allow him to influence our decisions for his weakness."

Before I can think of an argument, Verando narrows his eyes as he squares his shoulders. If there was one thing he was passionate about, it was his people. 

"He's not ready to be on his own, and you know it. If it comes down to it, I'll put a bullet in his skull myself but we are not releasing him into hostel territory. We are surrounded by the enemy, it would be a death sentence." 

With a heavy grimace, eyes squinted, nose wrinkled, Sota clutches his hand into a fist. "Then I suppose your options are easy. To remain here is a death sentence for your pack! This is what it's like to be a leader, to be in charge. You would do well to remember that friends and lovers are a costly affair. Send me your status report on what we are doing about the attack on Ziduri. It can not wait any longer; you make the call, or I will. The leaves are changing; we don't have any more time for delays."

It's Verando's turn to slam his hands on the table, outraged that the older man dares to defy him. "We will be going into a slaughter if we march on Ziduri and it's not your call to make! I will not sentence my men to death because of your impatience. We are out numbered and out matched, these men would all be dead if it wasn't for Nicolas's fog, in my absence the state you allowed this place to get to-"

Sota snarls back, flashing his teeth as he leans in. "That is not my concern, Verando! Love and war, it means not to me! I am not responsible for your short comings, nor am I in anyway inclined to do your grunt work. I'm your advisor; I'm advising you to get your people together. We are moving out, with or without your command. If I must unseat you myself to do it, it will be done!"

It is Adriam who so calmly breaks up their squabble. He clears his throat, smacking the table promptly between the two to gain their attention. "Support for the Alpha runs strong; you would be hard-pressed to unseat him, you lazy old geezer. The pack would not follow you into battle as you can't even swing a damned sword, so perhaps temper your tongue, Sota."

 Victor nods in agreement. Arms crossed over his chest, he flexes his forearms in frustration. 

"I suggest you keep your threats to yourself, lest you forget what cost you your arm in the first place. Now, why don't you go chase the lower rankings around and leave the planning to us? We will march on Ziduri, but not today." Smiling a sickeningly sweet smirk, he waves Sota off, dismissing him with an amount of confidence that I find unsettling. 

Sota weighs his options and straightens, pushing his hair back. "Without that Russian, you'd be long since sent back to where you came from Adriam. You might have known his father, but battle tactics aren't your strong suit. I suggest you stick to what you do best, playing with the women and tending to wounds." Turning his attention back to Verando, he narrows his eyes, "3 weeks. With or without you."

 As the door slams, Frost's shoulders relax only an inch, uncomfortable with the tension. "We need to get this moving. We can assign someone to keep an eye on Tonic. What is it going to take, Alpha?"

"More?" Verando sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "More weapons, more armor, more training, more men? We just lost Swift, Fleet, and Delta. Beta and John were traitors, but they were damn good at training. We can't take another hit like this; we were scrambling around like children out there. At this point we are just throwing bodies at the walls, we can not defeat the elves if they have their vantage point on top of the castle walls.

When lycan's were designed, it wasn't as though weapons were factored into that equation and unless we're willing to let the elves chop pieces off of men, we are grounded until we come up with better tactics." 

It seems like the perfect opportunity. 

Seamlessly, I shove my anguish back and step into my birthright as a prince in court."Perhaps it's time we seek outside help? We aren't the only ones who have this problem; there is a second group that opperated independent of my father. They want to speak with you on the possibility of an alliance. Their base is located a days walk from here and Loan says that the elves are trying to come in through the back."

 Everyone stares at me, the room falls silent, but it's the gaze of a betrayed warlord that wounds me the most.

"How long have you been sitting on this information?" Verando's sharp voice makes me wish I had said something earlier, but the opportunity hadn't presented itself. He would have to meet with them sooner or later; it was better to do it now while the wound was fresh and we were in an active need for more. 

He would have a hard enough time accepting them in the best circumstances. Hopefully, our situation would allow for tolerance.

"A few days, we have been busy incase you hadn't noticed. Would you speak to them? I hesitate to call them a rebellion.. they are not aligned with Haryck, but they aren't necessarily loyalists to my father either. Loan is the one who helped save me, so you might have already met him." 

It seems, thanks to Tonic's mental state, a perfect situation has been offered that might just unite us. 

"It would be worth a shot?" Adriam says reluctantly, earning a shrug from Frost.

The agreement is tense; I know this is not what anyone on the other side wants. His aversions to the magical community have not come far enough; he still hates them and blames them for what has happened to his people, but there isn't much else for options. 

If numbers are what he needs, much as he doesn't want to hear it, I would be a formidable force to aid them in their march to Ziduri. Frost gestures towards his leader in a casual tip of his nose, almost insisting that I offer myself as tribute to the cause. 

 With my ability to conjure up the fog, I've proven my use in combat and as a defense. 

"I can also be of service." I insist. 

"Royalty on the field puts you a great risk, you stick out like a sore thumb. You also can't heal yourself." Verando tells me shortly, unimpressed with the suggestion as Adriam mutters about the amount of discord within magical society. 

"We can have him some armor made, he'll be safer with us than left behind, if that's the concern." Frost insists, swallowing at the weight of the gaze that settles upon him yet he doesn't shrink away. "The men would be open to fighting along side Nicolas, if it would suit you to do so, Alpha. He saved us, he has our attention."

"Careful with those thoughts, Frost.. one might believe you are insinuating that I'm showing this man favor."

I can see in his expression that he feels we are forcing his hand. His jaw is set; he's rigid and mulling things over. I'm too valuable not to use.

"We need all the help we can get," Adriam reassures him. "I know you don't want to risk leaving a vacancy here, but if Nicolas is offering, we can't refuse the help." 

His words are to excuse Frost's prediction that Verando valued my life beyond that of an alliance, the pack had been disrupted enough by our relationship, it was time to start acting like there was nothing romantic going on between us lest we really raise suspicion. The pack needed to believe that he wouldn't have a bias, no matter how much it stung me to know that was probably true.

While it's decided that we will meet with both groups once more to gain aid in the form of magic users, it dawns on me how little Verando and I had slept in the last two days. As the sun creeps over the edge of the windows, it seems like our opportunity for any sleep had long since passed. 

 In silence we dawn our clothes, my body aches from our love making coupled with the assault by Tonic. But more than that, I hate how upset with me he seems. 

I watch as he pulls on his long sleeve and vest, admiring how the material stretches over his chest, how the vest assentuates his waist and the sleeves tigthen over his shoulders. The plunge of the V of the shirt exposes his collar bone in delicious fashion, I spy a bite mark I'd left on him and can't help but smile just the slightest. 

My own body was a patchwork that I'm sure Adriam got a full view of as he treated me. Verando had practically devoured me beyond the bruising from his fingers. 

 Approaching him, I help him tighten his belt, only for him to turn away from me. I know he's upset but this is how it must be, it can't be done alone. Much as I wished he felt different, I was revitalized by the possibilities of alliances between our people, even if they are somewhat forced.

The sun has just started peering over the mountains, lighting up the morning frost on the grass. We make our way towards the city, for neither of us had been motivated to eat after such a scene. 

 I'm glad I put on my wool frock today, though I attempt to lean on my captor for much needed warmth regardless. Angry as he was, he realizes I'm shivering and offers me his arm. I relish in his warmth, slipping my chilled hand into his pocket. 

"Do you ever get cold?" I try to make light conversation. 

I don't like the icy Alpha, I much prefer the witty Randy. 

"Not usually. I'm bred for colder temperatures; my coat doesn't allow for much chill." He sounds guarded. "Do I feel cold?" Raising an eyebrow at me, I press my cheek to his bicep, enjoying the warmth radiating off him. 

"No. I suppose not."

We arrive at the armory and he brings me into the back room, it smells of metal and coal here but welcoming all the same. The coal forges produce a good amount of heat though I still hesitate when I'm asked to remove my jacket, it wasn't often that I found comfort in any dwelling outside of the castle this time of year. 

My time as a prince had made me soft to the elements, I handled cold quite poorly considering it was my trade. "Take off your coat." He murmurs.

"Is that an order?" I clutch my frock to my chest in an almost playful fashion.

"Yes." His tone is flat as he sets my coat aside, taking out a piece of rope. Starting at my neck, Verando gingerly takes the measurement, writing it down before moving on to my chest and waist.

 I watch him with interest, considering there are no numbers on the rope, and he's coming up with a variety of lengths. "How do you know how long this is?" I ask as he wraps it around my bicep. 

"I cut it." He doesn't look up at me as he measures the length and diameter of my forearm. His fingers send a shiver down my spine, my body betrays me, how could I dare have any sort of attraction in a time like this? Yet the warm trail he leaves as his hands skirt over my clothes makes me squrim, none the less. 
 
"How do you know how to do all this?" 

Is it so wrong that I want to know him? 

Glancing up, the look I receive is one of frustration. "We don't need the commentary." He measures my hips snuggly, and I can't help but at the rough handling as he tugs me into place. As his fingers trail up my inseam and rest just below the seat of my pants, I bite my lower lip. He firmly places the rope, and I struggle to remain still.

"I hope you aren't so personal with all your men. I might get jealous. Or maybe I should have you measure me more often. You're driving me wild."

"I want this to be exact." He runs his hands down my legs, distracted as he follows the seam of my wool leggings before taking the measurement of my calf. When he writes down his last measurement, I'm struggling with myself. 

 I snag his rope, smirking as he regards me with a heavy exhale. Wrapping it around my hands several times, I give it a few good pulls, and I'm satisfied that it doesn't break. 

"This is some pretty nice rope," I comment passively.

 Regarding me with a warning glance, he shrugs and I shake my head at the limp response I'm getting. Watching him cautiously as he resumes his writing, I fold up the rope and stuff it in my side pocket.

With few words exchanged, we leave the armory, he seems satisfied with where we left the plans for my armour though I feel as though I got very little imput on how the final product will fit and look. To my surprise, we begin to trend toward the brellion and all over again, I'm tense. Haryek, after all we have been through, was one of the last people on my list to see though I suppose it was by my encouragement that we were here. 

"Are you ever going to forgive me?" I press, half hearted as I consider taking his arm once more. Though we were in public, it seemed to bother me to display affection publically more than it did him. 

Verando's lips part to answer, only for him to hesitate, placing his hand over my chest to stop me. In surprise, I glance down the path to find Haryek and a small band marching towards us. 

With a broad smile, Haryek seems happier to see us than I'd imagine for a man who's people were just slaughtered not far from here. 

"Alpha. Nicolas. I was just coming to see you. I've just been told that you have some of my people in your possession. I was hoping I could speak with them." He's got his politician's face on, in other words, he'd be cordual as we had something he wanted. 

I flinch, attempting not to give away that something had gone horribly wrong. 

"Where did you hear that?" Alpha responds cooly, catching me off guard. 

"Well. I more so had a scout witness it. We saw the fog; I sent a scout who saw the end of the battle and said you took in 7 captives? I'm hoping to get an update on Ziduri." Haryek tries to look as pleasant as he can, though obviously uncomfortable being so close to the man who really, truly, would love to see him dead. 

"He's mistaken. We have two captives." Verando retorts dismissively, offering nothing more than the simple fact.

"Oh. Right. Well, can I see them then?" Haryek presses.

"Perhaps later, first I'd like to get what I want. I've come to talk to you about what you have been harping on since you slithered into my path. We need to talk about an alliance. I'm prepared to hear what you have to offer us."