"Yes — NightClan," he replied enthusiastically, not paying any attention to the rat screaming itself hoarse against the bars beside him. "They live and work at night, for whatever reason, but it's a small price to pay for a crown. And-and do you want to know the really tremendously funny part? They'd just conquered this other sorry excuse for a Clan, these feared vanquishers — and now they're bowing to me. Me, Eris! Oh, it's wonderful." As she purred away, musing away about her belief in him and the fairytale dreams of her youth, Kier smiled to himself and flopped down against her like a Roman emperor throwing the day away to lounge upon a klinai. He was too contented — his head was spinning — and her voice, her undying faith in him, melted all the bones in his body. As she continued, he just lay there, the back of his head resting against the side of her stomach, and smiled stupidly up at the top of the hollowed out tree. Really, he supposed he could change their nocturnal schedule, he could do anything, anything, but he was rather enjoying it — and, to be prudent, all his current impositions were brutal, but not a complete reworking of their way of life; too much change too soon and they would rebel. He needed to ease them into it. Oh... The thoughts sent him almost squealing again. He hardly saw the lab roof as he stared up at it; his pupils moved frantically, but he wasn't seeing any of it - he was just inside his head, thinking a mile a minute. All the possibilities, all the opportunities. And it was wonderful.

Finally, he rolled over, still resting on Eris, to look at her with that same slightly glazed, dreamy joy. "Will you come with me now, my dear? Not permanently, I don't mean permanently," he hastened to add, "unless you want to — which of course I would welcome. But now? You can tell me anything you want them to do — they're like monkeys just waiting to be made to dance. Lab assistants? Done. Poison and herbs? Done. Meaningless warriors no one will miss to experiment on? Done. The prisons will be overflowing as is, might as well put them to use." He sat up, looking into her eyes. "Anything you want, Mousey. They're every bit as much yours as they are mine — more, if you want them to be." Overwhelmed again, he suddenly closed his eyes and pushed his forehead against hers. He'd meant what he'd said when he'd asked her to be his mate; he was hers. She owned him.

Pulling back, he stood and bounced to the lab entrance, excitement fizzing through him once more. He was moving a mile a minute. "So, come, come," he encouraged. He said it in a different way to the way he ordered Laertes about with the same words; these were said with love. "Oh, Mousey, I can't wait to show you." He grinned at her, brows together and head tilted slightly like he was beseeching her, looking completely lovestruck and under her control, under her spell, as he always did.

As Eris released the rodents from their cage, Kier sat back, drawing his paws in close to let them stream outside, and looked after them with a forlorn, wistful look. “Ohh,” he breathed softly, truly regretting the loss of them. This wasn’t what he had meant — he hadn’t wanted this chapter of their life to close so unexpectedly. His expression was mournful, but still he didn’t protest or interrupt his mate. Then he heard a scrabbling and looked over to see her scrambling up the trunk to pull down the lights he had strung up. Now his expression was truly devastated, like this, of all things, was making him rethink everything with NightClan — they’d been happy here; this was where they’d spent their first night together, where he’d had his first place away from his family; this was her lab, their first home. It felt like closing the door on your first dingy apartment, with blocked, rusty pipes and peeling wallpaper and too-small rooms, to move into a palace — good in theory (or… he thought the theory had been good; now he couldn’t quite remember why exactly he’d been so determined to do it…) but heartbreaking in practice. All their first memories were here… As the lights fell unceremoniously to the floor of the lab, Kier’s gaze followed them down, despondent and sad. But still he said nothing. When she smiled back at him, looking so enthralled and filled with all the energy in the world, he plastered a wide, matching smile on his own face, sitting up straighter. Internally, he supposed she was more blunt, less sentimental than he was — and he would worship that about her, too. They didn’t need this place, it was true. Leave it to the dogs… As she moved to lean against him, ready to go, Kier cast only a lingering glance back inside the hollow to where they’d slept the first day they’d met before turning back to her with a smile, their faces so close he had to arch his neck to look at her. Then, without a word, still smiling, he padded with her past the open birdcage he’d bitten off his tail-tip in front of and, brushing past it so dismissively it rattled from the light impact back against the bark, didn’t look back. The rusty door squealed back and forth behind them.

Their old life was over.

The page had been turned; a new chapter had begun, for better or for worse. Whatever darkness there might be, whatever glory, they’d be together.

As they crossed League territory and left it, Kier passed the time by babbling endlessly about NightClan — about his dealings with Snowblister, about the circumstances surrounding Aspenstar and Phantomfox’s disappearance that, rather remarkably, he hadn’t had anything to do with and didn’t believe Snowblister had either (the first question he’d accosted her in a side tunnel with when they’d failed to come home was a half accusing, half jealous at not being included, and half impressed, was that you?), about his eventful ascension, about Moonblight and Sagebristle and his plans to break them, about the changes he had planned, about the herbs and plants that might interest her in NightClan’s territory. He asked her for her opinions and input, and he listened attentively and seriously to her answers, valuing her council more than anyone else’s; if he thought stay but she said retreat, he would retreat. By the time they reached NightClan — its borders stale and faint from the lack of patrols from the confined Clan — he’d talked almost the entire way. And still his throat showed no sign of being sore. “Here it is,” he announced warmly, feeling that sensation of being both incredibly small among the towering pines and being their utter owner. “Quite puts the League’s dreary woods to shame, don’t you think?” He smiled at his mate, eager and anxious for her opinion — her approval. She’d given up her home, her work, for this; he wanted it to be perfect for her, wanted it to be worth it. Whatever cave walls he had to knock down to build her the perfect lab, he would.

(genuinely mourning the finale of the lab rn, it’ll be so epic if they go back after their reign is over and it’s all spiderwebs and post-apocalptic, abandoned vibes and they have to settle back where they started, sobbing screaming home is a dirty little tree lab and family is the mice you torture there with ur freaky wife)

When his mate squealed, Kier grinned at her, big and joyful and smitten. This wild possessiveness he could see in her eyes when she looked out over the world she now owned — it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Him and her, her and him; a tyrant owned by the madwoman tearing the innards of the forest apart. Gazing at her now as she gazed at her new kingdom, he felt like even if he lost everything, lost the crown and the control and the one home he could have here now that he’d burned bridges with the League and would inevitably burn his way through all the other Clans’ during his reign, they would always survive. As long as he had her, they would rebuild — a kingdom, or a little croft on the moors, or with nothing but themselves and the world against them.

When she turned her head to look at him, he met her gaze with a quiet little grin. He nodded, once, because he didn’t trust himself to speak, and after a moment longer of just gazing at her, led the way into the dark woods. “Well,” he began when he could speak again, regaining his usual confidence as he strolled beside her, resisting the undignified instinct to trot excitedly ahead. “NightClan really has done themselves a wild disservice. I’ve been exploring and most of the territory is completely under-utilised, if it’s utilised at all — they mill about their camp and in the same three places their perfect little soldier noses smell a mouse, and they lack the imagination to wander any further beyond. Of course…” He considered for a moment, head tilted to the side. “We don’t want to exactly encourage imagination, but you know how complete lack of vision annoys me. How people can just wander blindly through life with no questions, I have no idea. But one upside, my dear,” he grinned at her, “is that we have the woods completely to ourselves tonight.” He continued on, slipping back from lovesick, licentious husband to business partner catching an equal up to speed. “You’ll need a den of your own, of course — not to sleep, you’ll be with me — but for your work. You can choose wherever you like: in camp, out of camp, whatever has what you need. I’d offer you the medicine den but it’s very dreary, you know — all that sickness soaks into the walls. I don’t know how much screaming we can expect,” he grinned at her for a second before looking ahead again, “but that’s not necessarily a bad thing — healthy fear, you know. Anyway, wherever you see fit.” As he was talking, he’d led them past the old cottage with the abandoned herb garden — “plenty of poison in there; we can draw up a little catalogue.” Now, just to show off the impressive scenery to his wife, he led the way towards the break in the pine trees; below them, like a cut torn through the ground of the forest itself, stretched the narrow canyon. Shooting a silent, excited grin at her, he picked and leapt and scrambled his way down the tumble of rocks that led down into it, keeping ahead of Eris and then stopping constantly to check on her and offer her a paw to help her down, until they stood beside the shallow stream that trickled through the narrow, towering ravine. High above them, the sliver of night sky shone between the walls. Though there was a bank of dry land beside the stream, Kier just splashed through the water; it only came up to his ankles, and he quite liked the controllable mess, the decision to lose brief control that only came out when he was with Eris. Moss grew up the canyon walls; the water echoed between them; everything was shadows and darkness and moonlight on ripples. “I doubt they even knew this existed, the chumps,” Kier laughed to his mate, his voice echoing down the canyon.

As the canyon floor rose back up to the level of the trees, Kier led the way up, dust collecting on his wet paw pads. Swinging north-west, he padded through the trees until they came to the clearing where the stone circle lay. Now breaking into an eager trot, Kier raced across the open field washed blue by mist and the moon; with Snowblister, he had to be all cold, disinterested business — but now, with Eris, he could let out just how cool he thought this was. His and his deputy’s blood still stained the grass, but it was old; far fresher was the congealed heart on the altar slab of stone to the side. Kier didn’t comment on it, but it was clear it was his doing. He trotted an excited circle around the outside of the stones before stopping with a breathless, thrilled grin beside his mate, buzzing with energy and nerves. “Isn’t this wonderful?” he panted. “A little bit of home. I’m planning to, you know, in the future,” he waved his paw, like that somehow filled in the blanks, “get rid of StarClan, and maybe this can be the substitute for those dimwits — honestly, they believe whatever you tell them they should.” He didn’t mean it; this was too special a place, and his growing connection to his family heritage too sacred, for it to be used as a pawn. But the thought was along the right track — if they faked signs, they could fake their way to a new religion. One centred around whatever Eris and Kier wanted.

He turned to his mate. “Camp?” he grinned, undisguisedly, almost self-mockingly lecherous and eager, like he was fully aware of himself and expecting an eye roll. Of course, he was excited to show her just how far he’d crushed the Clan, to show her their new den, to follow along behind her through the caverns and tunnels and let her pick out a lab, to watch her pry open shackled killer’s jaws and peer at the sharpness of their teeth or whatever it was she wanted to do now that she could do anything to anyone, now that she could parade about as their queen and criticise the furnishings — but he was also, rather predictably for Kier, just excited to be alone with his mate. He hadn’t seen her for far too long, and certainly not since he had become a king.

Kier just grinned when she dragged herself under his chin, tilting his head back slightly and suppressing a little shiver as she padded away. He loved the haughty derision she looked at everything with, the way he could hardly know whether she was going to be childishly giddy about something or regard it with aloof disinterest, offering a polite lie so as not to hurt his feelings. Far from being offended when she wasn’t excited about something he was, he found it a marvel, a wonderful game of what she would and wouldn’t like, an incitement to find bigger and better things, or smaller and more intimate ones. With everyone else, he hated being scorned, hated not being good enough in their eyes when he knew what he had done was remarkable — nothing made him angrier; with her, it was a reeling intoxication. Her disapproval was almost better than her adoration. He couldn’t get comfortable, couldn’t fall into a routine; she always challenged him.

Bounding ahead to catch up to her, he fell in step at her side and briefly twined their tails. “Now,” he continued as they walked, tilting his head slightly so he was leaning in towards her. “I’m afraid I haven’t prepared anything for your arrival — it’s just happened, of course, and they’re all quite dazed. The Loyal Guard — I told you about them — they’re not very happy, you know, like children, but they’ll grow out of it. But seeing them beaten down has put the rest of the Clan in rather a tizzy. Teething problems. They’re afraid, but not the right kind — if I try to give them any orders right now, they’ll all bolt like frightened little rabbits. They need time to come to terms with things; then they’ll be perfectly malleable. Shouldn’t take more than a day or two. Once they see their Clanmates getting hungry, they’ll wise up. It’s amazing what an empty stomach can do to an already bad mood. Anyway, my dear, point is — I’m sorry there won’t be any fanfare. We can have a re-do in a few days and stage it all nicely, like it should have been tonight.” He grinned at her lovingly, like it was a little inside joke, and bumped his cheek against hers.

By the time they reached camp, dawn was just beginning to break in the distant east. The forest faded from pitch black to muddy grey; the air grew camper and chillier; and birds began to break their silence. “This is when they usually go to sleep,” he told Eris with that same little grin, glancing back at her over his shoulder before he dragged his gaze away and led the way down the smooth, winding stone path into the abyss below the surface. Almost immediately they were swallowed up by darkness; Kier stopped halfway down the sloping path so Eris could bump into him and get her bearings. “Careful,” he murmured, feeling her warm pelt and hearing her breath but not able to see her, “the path can be wet.” Still touching her with his tail, he continued the descent into the main cavern. As they drew closer, the sound of dripping water and the subdued murmur and shuffle of stationary cats against the slick stone walls rose up to meet them on the chilly air currents. He got the sudden feeling that he was descending not into his own kingdom, but into a den full of predators waiting for him to be stupid enough to return. He brushed it off. His eyes adjusted quickly and he blinked a few times, his blown pupil relieved to be back in the dark. As the dark opened up around them, so did the cavern — the faint glow of fading blue moonlight on the faintly rippling water; the way it caught the pale stone column in the centre; the reflection of two dozen cats’ eyes as they turned towards Kier and Eris with unblinking trepidation. Whispers started up, followed by fearful shushing; a few cats turned away with sneers. Kier watched them for a moment before looking away, making a mental list. Blood still stained the centre of the cavern, the dust disturbed by drag marks. Moonblight’s claw marks were still carved into the edge of the water.

Blinking, Kier turned back to his mate with a thin, wide smile. “Where to first, my dear?”

Kier grinned at her reaction; he hadn't missed her initial disillusionment — he'd felt much the same when he'd first padded in behind Aspenstar, under the cover of pale, buttery sunlight while the unsuspecting Clan slept mere feet away from the one who would soon own them. But NightClan had a way of growing on you. "Yes, well, it's a work in progress," he purred quietly, touching his nose briefly to her shoulder and ushering her gently along. He padded along behind her with idle slowness, watching her take it all in. "Of sorts," he replied, nodding up to the pillar from which Aspenstar, and now he, addressed the Clan. The edge of it was still crumbled and scuffed from where Sagebristle had thrown him off it. "You'll sit up there with me, naturally, if you like. Of course, we can always do better — DayClan have their horrid little wisteria throne, I've heard. I'm sure we can bring something else in if it isn't up to your standards." He gave her a thin, teasing little grin, but he meant it; Eris could redecorate however she liked and he would just duck underneath the scaffolding and brush aside the plastic. His mate would have full rein and he, and all the rest of NightClan, would just have to bow. His voice faded back to distracted business as he continued, eyes flitting over the pillar. "I was thinking of giving Snowblister her own den — apart from the warriors, you know. It's undignified. She isn't royalty, but she's nobility at the very least. She shouldn't be with these," he looked around at the warriors around the edges of camp with open, slightly frightened repulsion, like he'd forgotten they were there at all, "creatures."

"Now," he continued more excitedly, perking up as he trotted back to her side and brushed against her, meeting her gaze with an eager, almost innocent grin. He was excited to make her happy, to see her take this place and make it hers, to follow along in her wake and have it become more of a home simply because Eris was there, because she had trampled over the remnants of the old NightClan and made the new one her own. He led her along with his tail. "Of course you're welcome to have your lab outside of camp, but there are some options here if you'd like to be closer to home." Rounding a corner, Kier led her out of the main cavern and into a long, moonlit passage with smaller caves branching off to the left. The passage continued far into the distance, like a long, ominous corridor, and at the end there was the faint sound of rushing water. Between the dense stone walls, everything here was almost utterly, eerily silent, all the sounds of camp muffled. Despite being so close to the main cavern, it felt like they were truly alone. "Any one of these is open for your use," Kier continued, leading her past all the caves; all of them were carved out of faintly red stone, most of them were mossy, and some were less shadowy than the others, with moonlight filtering in through cracks in the roof. One even had an old, wooden door, some remnant of abandoned twoleg mining; Kier had peered into that one earlier, cracking the door open past the snapping spiderwebs, and there were dry, dusty shelves drilled into the stone walls and a weak, crackly lightbulb swinging from the roof, still, miraculously, functioning. "Privacy, ready access to water — the only fresh source is in my den, which is just down the passage. If you wanted, I imagine you could be perfectly happy here." He stopped in the middle of the shadowy, blue-moonlight-filled passage and gave her a smile, and it was loving.

Kier stepped closer, brushing his muzzle against hers and closing his eyes. "I missed you, when you were in your lab and I was in the Mansion. It would be nice to have you closer — I could pop down and visit. That said," his voice returned to normal as he stepped back, looking at the caves with fresh eyes, "it could be equally nice to have a little holiday home away from all this... Well! Who said you only have to have one lab?" He turned his head and grinned at her. "You can have as many as you like! Two! Three! The sky is the limit, my dear. And of course it's yours first and foremost — take me out of the equation entirely, I'll be there only when you want me. Your perfect laboratory." He smiled at the thought of his mate finally getting what she deserved, gazing out at the caves lined up in front of them. For that moment, caught up in his worship of her and all she was owed, all he could now ensure she was given, could ensure she could take, he forgot about his eagerness to get her back to their new den so they could be alone. 

The second Snowblister appeared from the gloom, Kier’s heart sank and he looked visibly unsettled, as much as he tried to appear unflappable. Almost nervous. “Oh,” he greeted uneasily. “Snowblister…” He had wanted to keep them separate. Snowblister and Eris were two different areas of his life, and though there were selfish, misogynistic reasons for wanting to keep them apart — two strong-minded she-cats in one room was too many and would give him nothing but a headache — he also knew, diplomatically, that they would be at each other’s throats. They were both brutal, both clever, but they were solitary and single-minded — and even if they agreed on something, the very fact that the other had suggested it would bar them from acquiescing. His mate had an ego; his deputy was a weapon adept at carrying out orders — but there still had to be tact given to it. Eris would order her to do menial tasks just to rub Snowblister’s inferiority in her face, and that would unravel the delicate peace he’d established with his deputy. Eris and Kier gave the orders, Snowblister carried them out — that much was true. But he still needed his deputy’s counsel, still needed to be in meetings with her that Eris didn’t need to be part of, and if all he ended up being was a mediator trying to wade through their antagonism… He could already feel the muddled chaos of petty arguments tearing it all apart. As Eris wove around him and badmouthed Snowblister, all he could conjure was a faint smile, too distracted to really feel her against him. He’d given up trying to teach his deputy manners, had settled for them simply not killing each other — but Eris, for all her brilliance, wouldn’t understand that fragile balance. And though he was overjoyed to have his mate, his greatest source of calm, his closest friend, his confidante, here with him now, the fact that he’d brokered an alliance, organised a coup, taken the throne, with Snowblister meant something; it had been theirs and theirs alone, his greatest show of independence, of what he could do when he was by himself, when he was free from everyone else.

Though he tried to straighten up and raise his head to meet Snowblister’s accusatory glare, looking disdainful and faintly amused at her over-reaction as he tried to regain his easy confidence, he was still uneasy. Kier looked his deputy up and down, a little grin spreading across his face at her sorry state; he curled his tail around Eris’ flank and pointedly pulled her closer, lewd and defiant. “What have you been doing, digging graves?” he asked Snowblister, the mocking question tinged with nasty, dismissive laughter that bubbled over the words. Hanging out with the commons, now? His grin grew. “Don’t be jealous,” he purred silkily around his teeth, voice quietening as they held each other’s gazes in the gloom. “It doesn’t suit you.”

“Eris,” he went on, glancing at her, “this is my deputy, Snowblister. Snowblister,” turning his head, he eyed her distrustfully, both warning and asking her not to say or do anything unbecoming in front of Eris; his voice, falling short of the blasé ease he was aiming for, was instead slightly tight, “this is my mate, Eris. She’ll be staying here from now on — so if you lack the good breeding to respect me, you can at the very least respect her.” You big ugly brute, he muttered silently. He didn’t know why he felt the need to add ‘please’ to the end — it was an order, not a request. But Snowblister always unbalanced him. He was eager to hurry Eris along and leave his deputy behind before this tension could lead to anything unpleasant, but he refused to let her see how much she unsettled him; if anyone was going to leave first, it would be Snowblister — she was of a subordinate rank to him, she would bow out. He silently hoped Eris wouldn’t antagonise her any further — but, he would have been lying if he’d said he didn’t faintly enjoy his mate’s jealousy, the need, he’d started to become aware of, to be the sole she-cat influence in his life, and the idea, whether merely a twisted fantasy or not, that Snowblister was competing for the same thing. Maybe them fighting would give him a little thrill.