Warrior Cat Clans 2 (WCC2 aka Classic) is a roleplay site inspired by the Warrior series by Erin Hunter. Whether you are a fan of the books or new to the Warrior cats world, WCC2 offers a diverse environment with over a decade’s worth of lore for you - and your characters - to explore. Join us today and become a part of our ongoing story!
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Kier was running yet another errand for his mother, this time to find some rare, snow-flowering orchid. He was in a better mood about it all since meeting Eris, but he still wasn’t entirely thrilled to be traipsing alone in the cold mountains on some goose chase, his paws getting all cut up from the stones.
It was then that he ascended a rocky hill — and, standing at the crest, looked down into a valley white with mountain goats. The wind buffeting his short black fur, a wide grin spread across Kier’s face, his eyes widening.
Forty minutes later, with lightheartedly adventurous music swelling between the gully, the little psychopath descended the mountain atop the back of one of the rams. The herd travelled as one, a small sea of shaggy white bodies and one small black cat directing it all like a maestro. He lounged between its shoulders, leaning back as he filed his black-dyed claws with a sharp stone. He felt utterly relaxed and utterly superior as he flicked his gaze up and looked around the stony landscape with hooded grey eyes and a languid, self-satisfied smile dripping from his face.
Near the bottom, with the travelling musical number coming to an end, Kier tapped the ram on its horns and, when it and the rest of the herd slowed to a stop, slid off it. “Pleasure doing business,” he told the ram with that gentlemanly sort of kindness that seemed so genuine and in a way was, the sort that complimented the chef for his fine strawberries over breakfast and then happily told the staff to have him and his starving, motherless children off the grounds by nightfall. He smiled all the while, never breaking eye contact; with his one blown pupil and the ram’s elongated ones, it was a strange cacophony of eyes. “If I’m ever in the area again I’ll look you up. All the best to the children, Maggie.” He peered around the ram to wave at a ewe a very goats behind him, a wide, friendly smile on his face. She chewed her cud and glowered back at him wordlessly.
With that, Kier bid them all a final farewell and set off cheerily along a mountain path.
By now, Kier had all but given up on finding the orchid; or, well, that was what he’d tell Mother. WinterClan was a big place — he could find it if he wanted to, and his mother would know it, but it was also a reasoning difficult to find true fault with: that it was just too damn sprawling.
So, now, he sat at the very tip of a ridge jutting out over the harrowing abyss. Dusk was settling over the mountains, dark grey and thick with a coming thunderstorm. It felt electric and tense and wanting. Waiting. He had a heap of orchids at his side, the ones his mother so desperately wanted for another silly experiment, and, in a whimsical show of rebellion, he was plucking a petal off at a time and tossing it over the edge. Sometimes the wind became so strong that when he held his paw out to let it go, it would snatch it from him before he could and send it swirling into the heavy grey clouds around him. When that happened, he smiled like it was a truly delightful treat, this perfect brutality. He sang quietly to himself as he plucked the petals off; his singing voice was unexpectedly beautiful, higher than a tom’s ought to be, swept up by the wind and brushed over the cavernous cliffs until they echoed with it, like a sweet siren song.
The Knight of the Guards had to be perfect, flawless. He had to wear a mask all the time, he had to be smooth and uncompromising as ice, ebbing forward relentlessly and yielding to nothing but the gentle touch of his mother. He enforced the law, he was the law; he had to believe in it with all his strength and defend every word to protect their way of life. He had to fight injustice and let it slide by ignored when it came from his family, and he had to believe it was right. He alone chose the guard patrols that would stand attentive at their prison at the borders of their camp. He alone was the barrier between chaos and safety.
Deathreign knew the Knight of the Guards. It was the monster that had haunted his every dream since he had been an apprentice. It hunt over his head like a threat every time his sister sneered at him in disapproval, every time his brother struck him for his insolence, every time his mother shook her head as he let his true nature should through. They wanted to shape him into the proper Knight, to give him the role his brother was too volatile to hold, and Deathreign's resistance had been futile. Pomegranatedecay sat him down, told him his destiny, and he had no choice but to accept it. Knight of the Guards.
And when the Knight heard the song of an intruder, he knew what to do: stalk it down and bury it in the snow until the ice grew over its bones and held it fast, a warning preserved for the next unfortunate soul to wander upon his land. Deathreign wanted to turn the other way, to pretend he heard only the whistling undertone of the wind; but he felt the gaze of his ancestors prickling upon his shoulders, and he dragged his paws over the rocks and through the drifts in tame pursuit of his prey.
He pulled up at the top of the ridge and stared down at the small cat waiting at the other end. He took a half-step forward, skidding as the rock and snow shifted beneath his paws -- falling, but with intention -- and came to a halt several paces from the stranger. The Knight should attack immediately and shred him, and Deathreign was relieved he had a good excuse to refrain. Perched on the edge of the cliff, one wrong move and they'd both tumble over into the abyss, and he preferred his paws on solid land. His mother liked him alive (for now).
Deathreign's expression settled. His chin tilted down, condescending, a disappointed flick of his eyes traveling up and down the scrawny form, resting only briefly on the shredded flowers before he trained his gaze on the stranger's and narrowed it, calculating. His chest puffed slightly, his jaw set, and his performance complete, he blew out a breath and scoffed coolly,
"Have I?" Kier replied smilingly without looking up from his orchids. "Bravo, that was wonderfully dramatic. Do you have a whole arsenal of those intimidating one-liners? Do you ever get to cry 'halt' when you see someone through the fog? Oh, how cinematic." He tossed the last of the petals he was holding into the wind and swept down to pick up the remaining flowers in his jaws. Unperturbed, or just playing with fire, he turned and carried them over to Deathreign; his tail-tip, waving idly behind him, was still scabbed over from where he'd bitten it off to feed Eris' pet mice and impress her. Looking up to meet the Knight's eyes, and with a narrow-eyed smile that was both utterly fearless and utterly aware of what he was doing, he dropped the flowers at Deathreign's paws. "There. Maybe now you'll settle down. Never receiving flowers can do terrible things to someone's psyche."
Turning again with a final, toothy grin and fully expecting this to be the end of their little encounter, Kier started down a snowy mountain pass leading away from the ridge. His paws were borderline frostbitten, the insides of his ears more pale blue than their usual veiny red and his breath misting in the air, but none of it bothered him; his body was just a happy little puppet, and so long as it warmed up again in front of a fire, it would be good as new by tomorrow. So, starting up his song again, he picked his way unhurriedly down the pass and quite forgot about Wintrystar's little toy soldier behind him.
The answer was yes, he did have a collection of one-liners prepared for these situations, and he did not appreciate getting called out about it. Being cool was tough, and he preferred to use shortcuts whenever he could; the same repetitive tough-guy routine was enough to get him by and enough time let most cats know they shouldn’t bother to engage with him. Still, the tom’s casual dismissal ruffled his fur. He could at least have the decency to show some remorse for his actions and give Deathreign a reason, any reason, to let him go.
He stiffened as the small tom approached. The Knight should strike the second it was safe, tear him limb from limb, or drag him squealing into prison. The Knight should spit in his face for his defiance. The Knight should do anything other than sit here paralyzed as the stranger moved closer and set down the orchids.
The warriors stared down at the flowers for a minute, unsure how to feel about them. He had never received flowers before, it was true, but they didn’t make him feel special now. All those little things he usually geeked out over— flowers were never one of them, and the gift was an empty gesture. He felt nothing.
He turned and left the orchids where they lay.
“You can’t just leave,” Deathreign huffed as he jogged to catch up with the tom. His strides were smooth and confident as he leaped along the path, natural ability and memory of his own territory serving him well. His voice wavered, confused and a tad petulant, but he hoped it was covered by his breath. As he slowed down to keep pace with the stranger, he glared down at the little cat and chose his words more carefully.
“You’re an intruder. I should kill you for trespassing here.” Will he beg me not to kill him? As much as Deathreign hoped he would, one glance assured him it was unlikely.
Deathreign genuinely surprised him, appearing beside him like that and disturbing his song when he'd dismissed him. "Oh, you're still here," he exclaimed in a slightly sighing voice, touching his paw to his chest like his poor heart was pounding at the assault. "I CAN leave - watch." Kier took an exaggerated, lurching step forward, his eyes locked with the Knight's the whole time. "Oh, what a harrowing turn of events," he laughed.
I should kill you for trespassing here. He looked up at him with an amused, blasé sort of daring, like he’d been in just the mood for a talking picture show and here the perfect one was. "Alright," he replied with a cheery sort of calm. "Do it. But before you do, I’m Kier. I think it’s always polite to know someone’s name before you kill them - that way, depending on the sort of cat you are, they can either be a trophy or something awful to haunt you until the day you die." He smiled up at Deathreign for a long moment - slightly too long. Then, finally, he finished, "you look like the latter."
With that, Kier backed to the very edge of the pass; snow disturbed by his paws shuffled over the edge and fell into the white, foggy abyss. He thought he'd land in some snow pile a little way down; and if he didn't, if he fell to his death, then it would be a perfectly quick way to go. And funny, too, because how meaningless. He made it clear that he had every intention of stepping backwards and letting the blame for the death settle on Deathreign's conscience - so he could either stop him - save him - or let him do it. "I'll enjoy haunting you," he told him cheerily, his voice snatched up by the wind to echo against the cliff-face like an eerie call.
"Do it." Deathreign tensed, the corners of his lips pulling back. His stance shifted, paws tucked beneath him as he coiled back in preparation for a lunge, but then, "I'm Kier. I think it's always polite to know someone's name before you kill them." He bared his teeth and growled, fur bronze and black under the cloudy sky and bristling, but the longer the intruder went on, the more he lost his nerve. It wasn't Kier's words that dissuaded him — as unsettling as they were, one more regret wasn't going to break him — but his eerie calm, his swagger, and with every second of hesitation, his confidence that he could even win this fight was draining out of him.
But the Knight had to try. He took a deep breath of icy cold air, let it pierce his lungs, and stalked after the retreating tom, his head lowered and his eyes narrowed, dangerous. Push him. Let him fall. One little nudge and he'd have done his job, and he could watch the tom's broken body tumble down the cliff-face; wait just a bit longer and maybe the intruder would end it himself, and his conscious would be clear.
His gaze dropped to the edge of the cliff, silent, calculating. This was his land, he knew it like the back of his paw. How far was the fall from here? The snow had fallen heavily just a few days ago; it would be a comfortable pile to fall upon, and the cliff here was only a few dozen feet high. The apprentices jumped off cliffs nearly this high to prove their bravery. Up here in the wild, the danger only existed when their bodies splattered against the walls of the canyons or the snow was sparse. This time of year, Kier likely would survive the jump.
That should have been reassuring, an easy way out, but his fur prickled with the gazes of his ancestors, and he couldn't let the intruder get away with it. Likely to survive were worse odds than he'd like when it came to his own life, but maybe the stress of his job was more than he'd expected because he was more than willing to take the leap.
"You won't get away from me that easily," the Knight snarled. He lunged, slamming into Kier and knocking them both backward off the tip of the cliff. Enough force should give them the distance to survive cracking their skulls against the towering stone wall, but for insurance the Knight grappled with him in the air, tucking the small tom beneath his body and sinking in his teeth, hissing and spitting at the tangy, spicy taste of the intruder's fur.
What an adventure! When Deathreign barrelled him over the edge, Kier didn’t resist at all; he just went limp, laughing and cheering and delighting in the way the icy wind whipped his voice away. And when the Knight sank his teeth in, he hummed appreciatively, either simply disinterestedly acquiescing to the inevitable or encouraging him; he’d bitten off his own tail-tip and been kicked by a desperate fawn’s hooves when he cracked open its ribcage and ate its heart — he was no stranger to pain, and indeed found a perverse pleasure in it, the little chaotician rendered so out of control. “Here we gooooo!” he laughed as the ground rushed closer and closer and closer, the wind rushing around them like thundering waves; he twisted his head around slightly in Deathreign’s grip to watch the approach with wide, delighted eyes and a big, open-mouthed grin, paying no attention to the Knight’s claws in his side or his teeth in his scrawny neck.
“Three, two, one — do you think it’s live or die, my handsome prince?” The last word was spoken exactly a split second before they hit the ground and the calm, relaxed excitement in it showed that Kier was truly, utterly happy either way — he was just looking forward to seeing which one it was.
They crashed into the snow with a riotous thud, cracking through the thin layer of ice that had frosted over the top and stopping deeper in the soft, feathery heap. Kier, tucked beneath Deathreign, took the brunt of the landing, his shoulders splintering through the ice and his chest aching under the Knight’s far greater weight, and for a few moments he was dazed and barely conscious. And then, suddenly, his eyes snapped open, his normal pupil dilating so fully and so quickly that it matched his permanently-blown one, his gaze briefly so black that it seemed to bleed out into his fur. A grin spread across his face, flooded by a rush of pure adrenaline. “Hello,” he greeted with that same grin.
His eyes settled back to his usual lazy expression, the pupil that had dilated shrinking back to a pinpoint so suddenly that it should have made a snapping sound. “Live, it would seem,” he purred, gaze hooded and glazed over with deep, foggy pleasure. The air between them in that little blue-white prison of snow, a few feet below the surface, was hot from their breaths. “This is a nice position. Rather compromising, though, isn’t it?” His back legs wriggled pointedly under Deathreign’s stomach, though he didn’t seem at all bothered by it. His grin was sharp and knowing.
They were falling fast— not fast enough, though; not fast enough to outrun his thoughts, the suddenly panicked flood of what did you just do? what do you think you're doing? you could die, now you're definitely a killer, what a stupid choice! what will your mother say? what will happen to your sister? what happens if you break your legs and can't walk anymore? what if— and not fast enough to stop this stupid intruder that would be the death of him from talking.
Was he happy?
They slammed into the snow and Deathreign grunted, his breath knocked out of his body so fast he couldn't even scream. He lay in the snow, deep breaths rasping through his lungs, raw but alive. The body of the intruder, his first victim, was pinned beneath him and limp. Eerily still. Dead. Dead, but he wasn't; tentatively, the dark-furred tom tested his toes and the tip of his tail, let the air fill his lungs, and assured himself that he had survived without injury. He ought to have moved, but instead, he laid his head down and closed his eyes. It wouldn't be so bad to lay a few moments longer, to replenish his energy and let the adrenaline fade, to push away thoughts of what he did and how warm the corpse beneath him was—
"Hello."
Not dead, then.
He gazed down at the tom, fascinated by the swift changes in the intruder's working eye; how well could he see from the other eye, when it reacted so poorly to the light? Did it burn from the sunlight glinting off the snow as he trekked through the icy clan? "Shut up," he huffed, glancing down at their proximity once before carefully looking away. His claws were still embedded in the small tom's flesh; he unhooked them and let his claws slide harmlessly back into their sheaths. The Knight should be angry that he wasn't finishing the job he had started, but the fall had quieted him.
"You're lucky you aren't dead," Deathreign told him. They had covered this ground already, but now he wasn't making a threat, just stating a fact. "Any other cat would kill you right here, while you're stuck and powerless," he tapped his toes on the base of the tom's throat, "so if you ever come back here, don't expect mercy. Don't expect weakness."
He shoved off of Kier and rolled to the side, wiggling into the space beside him in their snow cacoon, a little too cozy but he refused to care. "Are you an idiot?" he asked suddenly. "I can't fathom what cat would willingly, happily, jump off of a cliff without knowing what was at the bottom. You must have snow for brains."
Shut up. Kier grinned back at him tamely, letting out a little whimper of laughter high in his throat. When Deathreign tapped his sheathed claw against his throat, his grin only grew. “Are you flirting with me?” he teased through his grin.
“Am I?” he replied, a little too squished against the wall of snow and beneath the larger tom to be able to look up at him properly; while his head stayed where it was, his eyes looked up at him from over his muzzle. It made him look even more mocking, like peering over the tops of glasses. “Powerless? Interesting hypothesis, given I’ve stopped a very scary Knight from killing me.” His purr on ‘scary’ followed Deathreign as he rolled off him; Kier turned his head to watch him go, able to luxuriate a little more in the space the Knight left behind. Their sides were still pressed together; on Kier’s right was the icy, biting cold, and on the other perfect warmth. He let out an obnoxious purr, wriggling down a little further in the snow with his shoulders. “My, this is cozy. Some would be covering their little kittens’ eyes right about now.”
“Am I an idiot? No, dear prince, I assure you I’m quite brilliant. Are you an idiot, though?” He turned his head to look at him again and suddenly, he was mimicking Deathreign’s voice back at him as he half-echoed him, the accent, the inflections, the pauses and embellishments and tongue placements all eerily perfect. “I can’t fathom what cat would willingly, happily, tackle someone off a cliff.” He flashed another grin when he was finished, eyes glimmering, always inordinately proud of his talent. “I knew you’d tell me whether or not it was safe,” he added, and his voice was suddenly more bored — almost disappointed. There was the hint of a sigh to it. “If you looked startled, it wasn’t; if you sneered like you were disinterested, it was; and if you went over with me, as you did, then it wasn’t quite enough to kill me without help.” He twirled his paw dismissively in the air. “It’s very dreary, you see, when nothing is a surprise. That’s why not knowing if you’ll break a limb or not jumping off cliffs is so fun.” He suddenly rolled his head against the snow to fix Deathreign with a brilliant, delighted grin. “And that’s why meeting someone who’ll throw themselves off one at the drop of a hat is so thrilling. You didn’t know if you’d make it — and thanks to you, neither did I. So thank you, your highness, for adding some unexpected flair to the drudgery of my life.”
With that, eyes bright and pleased, Kier pushed himself to his stiff legs, briefly straddling Deathreign — “oops” he purred, a faint, grinning coo in his voice and his slitted eyes as he leaned in to him — before righting himself. As it was, he still stood over him, two legs on either side of the Knight’s body. “I’d invite myself to stay and cloud-gaze with you,” he continued in a bored, casual voice, like he wasn’t standing over him, “but, well,” he looked up at the empty white sky covered in low-hanging winter clouds, gesturing vaguely, “there isn’t much to see.” The angry, confused tom would be so fun and easy to gaslight into simple little things like thinking he could see horse-shaped clouds in the haze, but Kier didn’t feel like that right now. He was still too adrenalised to lie still, even with such a good-looking prize beside him. So, Kier hopped onto the rim of the indent in the snow and dragged himself out, back legs kicking at the ice for purchase and probably showering Deathreign in the process.
He blinked a few times in the bright light as he looked around, his left eye twitching and closing for a little bit before his enlarged pupil grew accustomed enough to the light to not water and burn; even so, after the comfortable shadows of the little snow hole, Kier’s eyes reverted to the narrowed look they always had, to keep out as much sunlight as he could. Then, finally, after having looked around a bit, he stopped and asked, slightly indignantly, like the mountainscape was a personal affront to him specifically, “where are we? I tell you, prince, you needn’t worry about keeping intruders out — you should be pleading with them to stay. I imagine that’s why you have this rather loveless system of breeding — if you don’t get new blood, no one will be left because no one wants to stay. Stockholm syndrome.” The last two words were said as a breathy, muttering undertone, almost like he was committing it to memory as something to try as he continued to dart his eyes slowly along the white, sightless horizon.
“Are you flirting with me?” Deathreign quirked the corner of his lips, sardonic, but went on ignoring the question, and the interruptions to follow. Kier was all too happy to imply there was something unbecoming happening here, something compromising, and frankly, Deathreign did not know how to respond to the insinuation, much less to the heat of Kier's breath on his ear and the rumble of his voice. His ears always burned with discomfort when he watched other warriors flirt and laugh and embrace, but Kier was an exception - uncomfortable, embarrassing, yet so enticing, and for the first time in his life he was torn between his all-encompassing hatred of intimacy and the temporary intrigue the stranger provided.
He flinched, hearing his own words directed back at him: merely surprised, not upset, but it was uncanny, hearing his own voice come from another. If only Kier was a bit bigger, a bit thicker, he could have stolen Deathreign's place, but no WinterClan warrior would ever believe the small tomcat was their knight. "I knew I'd make it," he muttered defensively, aware it was just too much of a lie, and compulsively added: "it wasn't too high, the snow was recently fallen, and with two of us..."
His voice trailed away as Kier stood over him, the last few words slurring together as his thoughts slowly ground to a halt, waiting in absolute mental silence. The little intruder pulled himself free and away, he was escaping and it was the Knight's job to stop him, but his influence was still muted and far away. He might have stayed there, flecks of ice glittering in his fur, resigned to stay here for eternity, if his curiosity didn't drag him out.
Deathreign rolled to his paws and leaped out of the snow pit, scrambling at the edge but otherwise escaping without issue, and looked around for the intruder.
"Doesn't matter where we are, does it?" he asked cryptically, finding just a bit of joy in tapping back into his cool demeanor -- that was exactly the sort of ambiguity he'd spent moons of his life learning, and he was discovering it could be fun to tease. He shrugged at his remark about breeding, finding nothing to disagree with. He slipped closer, stuck between the intruder's doom and his protector, stiff at his side and wary of approaching danger.
"Do you honestly think I care about anyone staying?" His eyes didn't leave Kier's face. "No cat wants to freeze to death. We're only up here because we have nowhere else to go. No one else would take us, and the few that try to leave end up dead, or worse." He turned to look over the icy, inhospitable realm, feeling bitter. His sister had tried. She had nearly made it, but his family would never take their claws out of her pelt, and they dragged her back here and broke her spirit, and he would live every day knowing he should have just let her die.
Something Kier said nagged at him. He couldn't place it yet, but the thought was like a burr between his pads, impossible to shake out. It set off an alarm in his mind, a howling coyote when danger drew near, and he felt uneasy.
"Then overthrow the problem," Kier replied immediately, like it was the obvious solution. "From what I've heard - and forgive me, I'm not from here so I've had to do a lot of reading— but from what I’ve heard, restrictions were never so tight before your mother. She is your mother, isn’t she? I’m not misreading the family tree? So kill her.” He shrugged, looking down to run his half-frostbitten paw up and down a few stalks of miserable, frozen grass. The action was rather provocative. “A few deaths, a usurpation, and this Clan you seem to have such a sad, vituperative relationship with is freed to do whatever sort of lovely, happy things a free Clan likes to do.” Such dangerous territory, to so casually suggest regicide to a royal son, and one that could only backfire for Kier — but it was the obvious solution to an enduring problem, so why not say it? What was this princeling going to do? Throw him off a cliff, rip out his throat? He was doing such a wonderful job at both those things already.
Kier looked up, slouching slightly, more casual and a little bit exasperated by Deathreign’s mewling lack of initiative. “And failing that, you do have other places to go. You’re really being a little dramatic, prince. You could come home with me. They’d love a failed royal.” He smiled up at him, narrow-eyed and thin and faintly mocking, like he was so enjoying toeing this line. His eyes narrowed further, his smile spreading a little more until he looked positively licentious. "I'd like one, too."
"Nine lives, Kier. If I kill her once, she comes right back to life, and kills me; if I sit and slaughter her nine times over, the clan will never follow me." His voice was distant and slow, detached. His gaze pulled over the frosted landscape. "Say I get them to listen to me. Then what? Then I have to become a leader, and I've there, I don't want that. If I let anyone else step up, the clan will continue down this same path. My mother isn't the only cruel one. Everyone continues to suffer, but now I've killed my own blood."
His mouth twisted, feeling a flash of bitterness. "Maybe they'll just kill me. Then what do I care, if they're free? What do I care if they're all miserable if I'm no longer breathing?"
It wasn't true, though. Kier was right: he could walk away. He had that chance, and he wasn't going to take it. He could act tough all he wanted, mutter about the challenges of leadership and his much he hated every cold-blooded abuser amongst their ranks, but he would never leave.
His yellow eyes flickered back to Kier's face at his words, but he didn't rise to the flirtation this time.
"Yeah, okay, I could leave," he exhaled, "but I have responsibilities here, Kier. I have a sister. She tried to leave and . . . . it didn't work out, and she's back now, and she needs me. I'm not much of a guard, but I'm all she's got." His eyes narrowed, his tone becoming defensive. "I don't expect you to understand. But look -- if I stay here in this 'loveless system' and keep her safe, that's worth it, okay? At least then I can die knowing I did something good with my life."
Kier sat down beside him in the snow and watched him silently as he spoke, head turned up to look at him, his body small beside the Knight's and his eyes narrowed and unreadable, as was his default listening expression. So Deathreign clearly wasn't ambitious. He seemed to operate against a general baseline of anxiety that perhaps he wasn't even fully aware of. His wariness about murdering his own mother had been fear of the consequences more than horror at killing the cat that had raised him. A good soul in a very cruel landscape. Sad. Hopeless. Trapped. Defensive. Usually, Kier would have been furiously filing this all away into the lifeless little office filing cabinets in his head he kept all the dirt on everyone he met in - would have been thrilled to shaking that he had the Sovereign’s son confiding his feelings about his mother to him, would have been scheming about how he could bring WinterClan to ruin with it just for fun, with Deathreign left standing in the ashes because the poor, poor boy had trusted him.
But, for whatever reason, and staggeringly to him, he wasn’t interested in that. His heart wasn’t in it. Instead, as he listened, he thought very little. For the first time in his life, he truly did just listen. He did keep forgetting about those nine lives, despite how often his mother barked the words into his ear. He would have pointed out that he could butcher his mother for him — a few little sedatives and then all the lives in the world couldn’t regrow a heart in someone’s chest — but his jaws remained closed. What do I care if they're all miserable if I'm no longer breathing? Kier looked back up at Deathreign from where his gaze had wandered away slightly, smiling in pleased surprise; there, at last, a selfish Clan cat. It made him happy, like the world settling back onto its even axis, that little glimpse into the selfishness of someone who otherwise seemed so kind.
When he started talking about his sister, he was caught somewhere between vague, indescribable annoyance which might really have been jealousy at him having such a close relationship with his sister, and admiration at his sense of duty — if not to his Clan, then to someone in it. “No, I understand,” he broke in, the first time he’d spoken that entire time, and his voice was as even, as unmocking, as it had ever been. “I have a sister. I don’t know if someone hurt her whether I’d help them do it or,” he looked slightly uncomfortable as he went on, and his voice was a little rushed, like the words were something horrible and vulnerable he’d never thought about before, “or protect her, but I do understand. Vaguely.” He looked away, licking his lips like he was eager to move away from the subject, and the bad taste, he now found himself on. Kier couldn’t remember the last time he actually felt uneasy, but this talk about sisters had done it — because it made him feel like he really was just a little, bony black tom with siblings instead of the great image he had of himself in his head, and because he didn’t want to dwell on all the things he’d never have with them. Oh, this was awful.
“You’re very brave,” he added after a moment, still looking away, but his voice was a little more controlled and a little less unravelled. “But I don’t think looking after your sister will be the only good thing you do in your life. I’ve never met anyone so loyal before. That’ll count in the end.”
No, this was worse.
Standing suddenly, feeling completely out of his depth and uncomfortable with all these feelings that weren’t sly or pretend, Kier shook off the snow that had flecked across his short pelt and looked out at the snowy landscape, legs shivering slightly. “I think I’ll need an escort down,” he told him, and his voice was back to that sticky almost-purr. When he looked back at Deathreign, there was a hooded-eyed smile on his face. “Or we could go back in that snow hole,” he purred.
No, I understand. I have a sister. Deathreign raised his head, surprised. Kier did not strike him as the type of cat to care about anything or anyone; who else would jump so freely off of a cliff, without care of where he would land? Who else would be so bored at the thought of death? His ambivalence, though, that Deathreign latched on to: that he could understand. If he had the chance to get his paws on his brother... but he would never, right? Deathreign didn't have it in him to attack his own siblings, did he?
"I—" he broke off as Kier spoke again, and fell quiet. What good was loyalty, when it was to the wrong cat? He protected his sister now, but he hadn't been there when she lost her litter. He hadn't chased her into the wilderness, into exile. He had stood by his mother's side and watched her go. Deathreign was too weak to be loyal to any good cat.
"Kier, I— Kier!" His voice sharpened, startled, afraid, as the small tom rose to his paws to leave. He couldn't let him leave. The Knight wouldn't let him leave, he needed to take a prisoner, to prove himself to his mother, but more than that, he was the first— the first, maybe the only— he was strangely kind to Deathreign, and he couldn't lose that.
"I'll escort you right down into our prison. I said I won't kill you, but I can't let you go either."
“Yes?” he asked around an amused, scrunch-eyed grin. “If you want to shout my name, there are better ways.” But his grin fell into a groan as Deathreign continued; he swept around melodramatically and swiped a heap of snow into the air with one little paw. “Oh, come on, prince,” Kier exclaimed in exasperation, turning back to face him. “Me? In prison? It won’t suit me. I have a very strict skincare routine I have to follow. And for what? To please your mother? We found ourselves at an impasse, then, because I have to please my mother, too.” He wasn’t really bothered, though — he found it more funny than anything. Maybe prison would be fun. Eating scraps, growing thin, being beaten up each morning by whatever guards got their rocks off shooting fish in a barrel — what an experience. Well, no different to his childhood, but this time he could talk back to the jailers without fear of his father’s disapproval. Spitting up blood, witty comebacks — an actor’s greatest performance. He always did love new things!
Then, as something occurred to him, a grin spread across his face and he looked back to Deathreign from where his gaze had wandered away while he thought. “Or do you just want me to stay, princy?” Kier picked his way towards him across the snow, having to pull each paw well clear of it before he could take his next step; it made him look like a dark little show pony, as cute as he was violent. When he reached him, he leaned up, grey eyes slitted in teasing pleasure. “Do you need to hold all your friends hostage? You could just ask.” His nose was almost touching the Knight’s, grinning up at him with his head thrown back to the point of aching so he could make eye contact.
Yeah okay, so maybe Kier wasn't that excited to be in prison, but... well, wasn't prison just the excitement he'd been looking for? He started to interject: "Of course it'll suit you— it won't just please her, it's my job— you wanted an adventure, right?— Kier—"
Or do you just want me to stay, princy?
Deathreign rolled his eyes so hard they hurt, just to emphasize what he thought of that. "No," he muttered. He was frozen in place as Kier moved his way, afraid to breathe, lest the tom change his mind and leave. This close and he could attack him, force him to come to prison with him. Drag him in kicking and screaming. Kier would forgive him eventually; he'd have fun down there and forget there was any animosity between them. His paws twitched anxiously.
“Do you need to hold all your friends hostage? You could just ask.”
"Fine," he whispered, gazing into Kier's blown pupil. "Stay, please?" The rush of adrenaline he felt then almost drowned out any response Kier might have given; he felt stupid, he felt giddy, he felt desperate and hopeful.
Kier was genuinely taken aback. He hadn’t expected that to be so easy — hadn’t expected anything, really. The prince was lonely, that much was clear, but he hadn’t genuinely thought he was doing much more than just teasing him; to think he actually did want him to stay… The smile that appeared on his face, slow and crooked and almost soft, almost in awe, gave away his surprise. Oh, he almost said.
But instead, he pushed the smile back into a grin and quipped cheerily, cockily, “see, that wasn’t too hard, was it? Well done, princy, we’ll teach you some social skills yet.” To push down the vulnerable shiver that threatened to run through him at the way Deathreign was staring at his rounded pupil, Kier reached up and patted the Knight condescendingly on the cheek. “Now,” he continued, turning around to look out over the icy wasteland again. The early winter wind had picked up, sending wisps of snow fluttering sideways. “What is there to do here aside from freeze your paws off and grumble about mothers? Snuggle?” Kier tipped his head back to grin at him. A moment later he tipped it back down, returning to gazing out at the mountains, bored and unimpressed. “I can’t imagine how else you ever get warm up here. I’m not much of a runner.” He narrowed his eyes against the wind, annoyed by it.
The sight of them would have been so strange — a large, thick-furred prince, and a scrawny little intruder calling the shots.
Kier's response wasn't what he had hoped. but it wasn't what had feared either; it was enough for Deathreign to sigh and let his heart restart. He never had the courage to ask that before. It wasn't that he liked Kier any more than the others— and there had been others; handsome toms he'd eyed during the gathering and during events, always tempted, always aware he didn't stand a chance— but the little tom's daring nature emboldened him by proxy. It was a step in the right direction.
And that little smile that he'd seen for just a second on Kier's face? Maybe he felt the same, maybe he didn't want to go either.
"Oh, it's actually warm out today," Deathreign told him with an amused little twitch of his whiskers. "Don't you feel that nice freeze? The best way to stay warm up here is to grow some more fur." Here, borrow some of mine, he thought, but his paws didn't move forward. He didn't have that much courage. Not yet.
What was there to do? He shuffled his paws and looked over the cliffs, considering. Finding silly little things to do was his specialty. Away from the peering eyes of his clan, he tried everything there was to do: every puzzle to solve, every flower to hunt, every story to discover. "The caves might be warmer, and sometimes you can find neat little stones down there. There's a really cool one near the Frozen Lake; I found a little tunnel in the back of it, just a little indent really, but I stuffed it full of moss and rabbit fur and some evergreen needles to make it smell all nice." He was animated now, eager. "It's nothing special, really, it's just a little place to escape, but that's where I keep all of my stuff, and— well, I guess the lake is too far into our territory," he realized suddenly. "I can't take you there. Someone will see you. Um... we could go look for somewhere a little closer. There are a few ice ledges on the cliffs back that way, they're pretty in the darkness, in the light they're too bright to see..."
The best way to stay warm up here is to grow some more fur. “Yes, I’ll get on that,” Kier replied dryly, eyes still flicking slowly across the mountainscape.
When Deathreign started babbling about rocks and rabbit fur, Kier slowly turned his head to look at him — and just as slowly, with first a twitch of his whiskers like he was smelling something strange, or like he was trying to hold it back, a little grin spread across his face, more genuinely amused than before, rather than the general mockery Kier most often felt, and laced with something else, too. Something softer, something appreciative — something surprised, like a starving fox faced for the first time with something that wasn’t raw violence and dog-eat-dog upwards scrambling. No one in the League had idle, harmless hobbies — if they had a hobby, it was riddles with teeth at the end or rusty nails on boards or—or orchid-hunting for eternal life. To see someone who, despite the macabre family turmoil he’d just described, still retained enough innocence to get such an excited glow in his eyes about neat little stones… Deathreign suddenly seemed a kit, and Kier didn’t know what to make of the faint little ache in his own chest. Envy that the Knight had this part of himself; resentment that Kier’s natural interest in herbs and treasure-hunting had been corrupted into serving his mother; insecurity about his own shortcomings, his own failings, that meant he was somehow weaker, more innately twisted, less able to hold onto these nice things like Deathreign was? He’d never known jealousy to feel so light before, though.
The Knight was cute, he realised.
Without Kier realising it, a little crooked smile had been on his own face for far too long as he gazed up at him. Twisting it quickly into the lazy, hooded-eyed grin his face was most used to wearing, like he was holding over everyone’s heads the simple crime of having been born at all, he purred, “I’ve never known friendship to sound so suspiciously close to a date. A destination’s prettiness is certainly the first thing I think of when deciding where to take an acquaintance.” Despite his teasing, he was more flattered — more happy — than he would ever say that he was worth enough to think that much about pleasing. Relaxed and contented, however much of an act it was, he continued with that same smile, “wherever you want to go is fine by me, princy. Cliffs, lake, special little cave; I can be awfully quiet — and if we get caught, I’ll console myself with the assumption that you’ll visit me in prison.” His eyes twinkled as he looked up at Deathreign.
