“There you are!”

Kier had been put under strict instructions from the Internal Affairs Proxy to stay as far from her and the Mansion as possible during daylight hours, especially because she was carrying kits and didn’t want to take any chances with the hellspawn, to use her words, that was him around them. She was a typically nervous she-cat, Kier assumed, and so he acquiesced and, with all the charm and humility he could muster as he bowed and backed out, tried his best to steer clear of her, if only to keep up the pretence of respect. Truthfully, it felt strange to him that a she-cat should have been put in such a lofty position to begin with, but the answer seemed to come in the form of the two toms who ran the League - clearly they were in charge, and the she-cats were just worrying hens who could be trusted with simple tasks and kept a close eye on. The Assassins he couldn’t quite wrap his head around, but perhaps there were male Assassins hiding in plain sight who would step in if a situation actually got dire. Strangely, the “Proxy” had also hissed at him, in a deliberate aside after darting her head around to make sure no one else was listening, to stay out of the Warden’s way as well - or, as she put it, the pretty grey tom posing as the Warden. Well, though he’d politely agreed, he certainly wasn’t going to do that. He was still mulling that particular instruction over when he stumbled across his mother.

Kier practically skipped over to her from the shadows of the trees. Another thing about the League that seemed to have been made for him particularly - the amount of ferns and moss strangled any flowers, meaning his allergies were almost completely cured when within his new territory. “I’ve been looking for you, Mother. I was hoping we might spend some time together. Mal and Kate are busy, and Father is off somewhere, but I have some free time. Maybe we could share a meal?” He smiled up at her.

"Well," Kier replied slowly, trying very hard to let her irritation roll off him and not lodge in his heart, trying very hard to not be hurt, to keep up his cheery voice and smile. It was visibly strained for just a split second before he managed to get it back under control. He was a pathological liar, but even he struggled with substituting genuine emotions with others, especially when they were such opposite feelings, lonely grief and joy. But she would come around in the end. It was that hope that kept the smile up. "My father wants the three of us to be more independent so I'm not allowed to be by his side, Mother." The word was strangely tensed; he visibly loosened his throat and continued quickly, the verbal equivalent of running a paw soothingly over a wound inflicted. He padded closer, silver eyes never leaving her own.

"You-you mentioned you've only ever sought one thing, that this place is just another stepping stone on that journey." Kier's ability to recite word-for-word conversations that he'd listened to in passing was unnerving. At the time, he never appeared to be paying all that much attention, never seemed like he was secreting every little word away. But he was. He tilted his head. "What did you mean by that, Mother?"

"I don't think you're really providing enough maternal care to threaten my independence," Kier replied sweetly, following after her even as she tried to walk away from him. At least she was referring to herself as his mother now, even if it was derisively! Progress! "Just don't think of me as your son! I'm merely a- an intern, or paparazzi, or-"

Then she was speaking over him. "Oh, I don't think Father has any desires or ambitions," he agreed, trying to get on her side by distancing himself from Harley, though talking of his father's desires reminded him that he and Rhiannon had been together, and that made his chest squeeze with an odd anger. You'd do better figuring out what you want instead of relying on either of us. Oh, honestly, gold star, Mother, he thought. When had he ever had a chance to rely on her? And when hadn't his father let him down every time he'd tried to rely on him? He didn't think of Harley having kept him fed and alive for seven moons - he just thought of all the times he hadn't stepped in to protect him from Mal or Kate. Maybe he was proving Rhiannon's point with that, but he was blind to that. "I know what I want," he replied, but he didn't elaborate.

Then his mother was sharing that secretive look with him out of the corner of her eyes identical to his own and Kier stopped, watching her intensely. "But that's not possible," he replied, though the way she said it, like she understood something neither he nor anyone else ever could, made a captivated shiver run up his spine like a thrill of dark magic. "Everyone would want it if it were. No one can escape death."

Kier saw the amusement flash across her eyes and he smiled, soft and crooked, half like he was laughing along with with her and half like he was just enjoying the sight. He was inordinately pleased to have finally made her laugh. So she liked jokes at his father's expense. He was just thinking about that when she started speaking.

"Sacrifice?" he echoed quietly, quickly slinking closer to look up at her. "Where we're from, they sacrifice creatures? Cats?" He was both horrified and utterly entranced by the idea. A little shiver ran down his spine and shook his body. There was wonder - worship - in his quiet voice as he continued. "Is that what you're going to do? Kill to give yourself eternal life?"

You and I. Where you and I are from. Kier held back a delighted quiver, having to put concerted effort into not letting his head twitch at the overwhelming amount of emotion those words filled him with. To be considered the same as her, his Mother... It was almost too much to bear. He watched in silence as she spoke, his narrow eyes growing slightly wider as he drank it all in. He'd never had anything to believe in before, never had a faith or a cause or a unit to swear allegiance to... But as she spoke of the three-headed god, of sacrifice and death, he could feel a stirring, a stirring that made him feel, even if he, for once, didn't register it consciously, that he could so easily become indoctrinated into this terrible religion if it gave him such power, if it brought him closer to his Mother, if it gave him control over death, if it, if it, if it... The dark, cold beauty of the way she spoke about it brought Kier as close to tears as he'd ever been.

"But, surely..." His voice was weak, and for once it wasn't deliberate; not used to being so overwhelmed, it took Kier a confused moment, frowning slightly, to wet his mouth again and get himself under control. He felt hungry even though he'd already eaten. He tried again. "Surely that's StarClan, not any gods from the North." He'd only been here a few days, but he was quick - he knew the local religions, had already started to scout out the territory boundaries. He spoke of StarClan with the unaffected tolerance of a coloniser; it didn't interest him, he neither believed in it nor put the thought into disbelieving, but the quaint, silly little locals did and so he didn't discredit it, even if that only meant he would humour them. "And from what I've heard, it isn't a matter of killing them and taking their extra lives - you need to be given them. Have you been to the Moon Creek?" Kier really was excellent at intelligence gathering. "Perhaps holding a StarClan spirit hostage might be your best bet, unless you're going to overthrow these cats and take over from them." There was interest in his gaze at that and he leaned forward slightly, eyes widening a little further. "Are you?"

"I wouldn't know," Kier sneered back, his teeth little and rat-sharp as he leaned in closer to his mother, "I didn't know who any of my ancestors might be until three days ago." Realising his bitterness had surfaced when he hadn't meant it to, he cleared his throat and sat back, brushing one little paw over his chest to smooth his fur. Stop hitting his sister - his mother really knew nothing about him or either of his siblings. Oh well! He tried to force determined cheer back into himself, like pushing stuffing back into a splitting teddy bear. That's what today was for! To make sure he was in better than his brother and sister were. Whatever that meant. "So who gives them these lives then, Mother? If not StarClan, who? The three-headed god? Here, this far south? Forgive me for saying so, but it doesn't sound like you've thought this through very well. That's how I might be of help. You might now like me," yet, "but I'll make a very fine assistant."

I'm going to live forever, even if I have to die trying. He shivered when his mother turned to him, suddenly feeling like he'd been transported to some howling, windswept moor, his little form sitting and facing a werewolf or some other dark, spindly creature looming over him, the wind buffeting his fur. The certainty in her eyes was electric. He blinked and he was back in the forest, birds singing faintly. "I don't doubt it. But perhaps, with me to help you, you won't need to die in the attempt."

"I’m not interested in his heritage," Kier answered dismissively, "—Shamans and Nemeses, as if this place were the only one and there isn’t a whole world up for grabs. Maybe they haven’t seen it but I have. You have." He leaned in closer. "I want your blood,” lineage, he realised he should have said and barely managed to stop his head twitching at his over-eager mistake, “not his."

"Well, anything!" He exclaimed excitedly, bounding over to sit in front of her like a puppy eager to be beaten. "My undying loyalty and devotion! Any task you ask of me completed, no questions asked. I’ve never killed anything other than a litter of kittens I found in the moors, and even those I drowned so I fear it doesn’t really count, but I can learn! And I’m a quick learner, Mother, very quick. Compliments every day - or not." He held up his paw like he was acknowledging the fact she didn't like them, as if he had any actual respect for her or her autonomy. In a quieter, darker voice, slowly lowering his paw back to the ground, he continued, "I hate my brother and sister, they’re weak and stupid and our father means something to them, but not to me. If you let me, I’ll give you everything I have and when I run out I’ll get more. I’ll take it." His teeth practically snapped on the last part.

Then the darkness evaporated again and he gazed up at her with his narrow silver eyes wide. Please, Mother, they said, and his heart said, and his soul said. Just let me help you.

Kier's eyes shone and he had to stop himself from doing a little skip; instead he sat up straighter, obedient and the perfect pupil, and nodded. She'd been here all this time and she didn't know? But he swallowed back the scorn. All she-cats needed a tom's patient, guiding hand, none more so than one who'd been so misguided about her sole purpose in life that she'd considered getting rid of her own unborn kits. "Well," he replied evenly, deferentially, "they go there with their medicine cats to receive nine lives from StarClan. Eight, if the previous leader is still living. Nemeses get fewer lives than Clan leaders - some petty prejudice," he said it dismissively like it was irrelevant, "- but I imagine the ceremony is still much the same. I don't quite understand the logistics of it yet, whether the lives have to be harvested fresh each time or if they're somehow stored within StarClan, but I will. Soon." The lack of explanation as to how was ominous.

He gazed up at her, his blinks reptilian and quick. "Have you ever been? To the Moon Creek? I have. I could show you. It's beautiful." It was odd, that he had some concept of or appreciation for beauty; it felt too innocent for him, too untainted.

"Oh, sun gods, moon gods, StarClan," Kier said dismissively, his eyes closed and his head dropping from side to step with each new deity; he opened his eyes and looked up at Rhiannon adoringly, "what are any of them to my Mother?"

At her acquiescence to a little road trip with him, a wide, almost innocent grin spread across his face, his eyes widening and lightening up, and he leaped to his paws. "Wo-wonderful!" He hadn't expected her to agree. He was excited enough to skip about her but he refrained, instead standing in the direction of the Moon Creek and waiting for her to fall in line beside him.

You would have thought he'd be sick and tired of them after moons of travelling, in which time he'd, though you wouldn't believe it, grown from a small kitten to a marginally less small one. But he wasn't - any excuse to spend time with Rhiannon and he was thrilled enough to run three laps around the moon, to go anywhere, to swim the seas, to do anything she asked. "You'll bring them all to their knees in the end, my dear!" he exclaimed cheerfully over his shoulder as he set off.