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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Druzyprince had, of course, noticed King — Littlekit — at Kier's opposite side, but he had never felt the need to say anything. Occasionally, he would send a curious glance, an idle look when the conversation at hand was getting too boring and he was getting too restless, but never any words. They only saw each other in the presence of Kier himself, and while there they were resigned to silent forces in the background. He assumed she was learning, like he had been — still did, though he was mostly there for protection or leverage. King's utter obedience never rubbed him the wrong way, because Druzyprince had grown up having that value drilled into his head from the moment he met Kier in the Mansion's hall, and in a way he admired her for it, because certainly he wasn't as well-behaved when he was her age. It was out of ignorance, for the most part — Kier instilled the right values into people, he convinced himself, it wasn't anything wrong, not really, because Druzyprince had gone through the same thing and he was fine, wasn't he?
Sometimes, against his better judgement, he felt a small, tingling sense of jealousy, only briefly. He was scared of being replaced, and he was scared of watching King get better than him before his very eyes. Kier had already left him once, he didn't want to be tossed aside again. Perhaps that was why he never bothered to engage with her, perhaps his anxiety got the better of him (as it usually did, despite how much he swore he grew out of it). He knew his fears were unreasonable — usually they were — but he still couldn't shake it, but with the realization that the feelings existed at all came the revelation that the only way to get rid of them was to get it over with. Talk to her. He already knew her sister, Brat, and he, too, stuck by Kier's side. That was already two things they had in common.
It was later in the night when he found himself tentatively approaching her, torn between making himself seem tall and responsible or small and unassuming. It ended in him looking extremely tense and awkward instead. Slung over his neck was a thick leaf wrap of the crystals he had collected with Bumblebeepaw a while ago. They weighed heavy against the side of his chest, bumping uncomfortably against his shoulder, but he ignored it. He stopped in front of her, paws fidgeting.
"Hello." Instantly he cringed at himself. "I need. . . some help, with something. Want to come along? It'll be out of camp but I think that is alright — you're with me, so nobody will give a fuss. I just think," he paused, as if coming up with an excuse on the spot, "that you'll be helpful, is all."
Likewise, King noticed Druzyprince. If she were any other kit in NightClan, one not tethered to Kier and beholden to expectations far greater than the others, his frequent, curious glances would be unsettling- even creepy. Alas, she wasn't any other kit; she was King, and being King meant she was Kier's son, and being Kier's son meant she was the focal point of the clan's attention. Stares often followed her, expectant and fearful. Her clanmates were always watching her.
Whether they thought she was Kier himself in those instances or waiting for her to morph into him, she didn't know.
This type of breathless, quivering reverence was normal to her. She'd been raised to know nothing different from NightClan's vicious climate- the copper stench of blood, the crimson soil, the swollen-eyed melancholy of the survivors and the tear streaks dried into their cheeks, the willingness to sabotage one's mother or sister to get ahead. By now, she'd made tuning out the world into an art form, and when Druzyprince kept glancing her way, that hesitant jealousy simmering on his face, she no longer saw it.
But it was harder to ignore someone when they were directly in front of you. King rolled lazily onto her other side, facing him, as Druzyprince stumbled through his words. She didn't reply or move immediately- her grey eyes were hazy and unfocused, but there was a slow, brightening recognition forming in them, like she had to remind herself of who this tom was and why he would be speaking to her. "Okay," she eventually mewed, and didn't say or ask anything else. Lying down, it was difficult to tell her and Kier apart, with their identical black pelts and large ears, but when she got to her paws, it was clear that this was not the leader and was instead his bastard son, her ungroomed fur sticking out in all directions.
Okay. He felt all too awkward, and the silence that came after her agreement spoke volumes on it. The word was simple, dull, uninterested, and it was enough to make him crumble where he stood. King acted both so much him and yet she was so different at the same time; she looked like him, she lazed like him, but she held none of his properness, his pristine air, his crude attitude, his sense of superiority. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure where he stood with her. Were they equals? Was she more, due to her blood? Or perhaps she was less — Kier didn’t seem to hold them to any high regard, yet King hardly left his side. Finally, he nodded, slow and unsure, even though it was him who had approached (he was never the brightest when it came to confrontation, to be fair).
“Alright,” he said, softly as if trying to reassure himself. “I should have asked this before — I do hope Kier doesn’t need you for anything, I’d hate to interrupt.” He struggled to keep the tinge of bitterness out of his voice, because he knew it wasn’t fair. But he was so used to being Kier’s right-hand, his student, his guard, his assistant, all on his own that to see someone else take his place, however small, was reeling. And, in part, he saw himself in her. Small and young, already fallen too deep into the life of a shadow, an obedient puppet, that they couldn’t crawl out. Druzyprince couldn’t picture of life without Kier telling him what to do, and he was sure King felt the same.
He stepped back and whisked around, prepared to lead the way. “I’m in the process of making Kier a gift, and I already have these crystals, but now I just need to go out and find sap to stick them together — pine sap can be especially strong. Call it training, and I’m sure he would appreciate it.” He let out a small laugh, airy and wistful, “he used to have me practice my tracking in forests much denser — one time I was supposed to find these three things but I could only find one, I thought I was dead,” he laughed again, “but it turns out he didn’t even hide others.” The awkwardness faded away as he brought the subject up, something they could both relate to — training under Kier.
