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fox I hope you don't mind I took some liberties in saying Kier was out and no one else was in the den.
Lilacpaw had little hesitation in slipping his way into the leaders den in the early hours of the morning when most of Nightclan was just going to bed. He had things to discuss with Kier after all and tiredness wouldn't keep him from it. Even if he was sleepy enough that he stumbled a bit on the rocks on his way inside. Glancing towards the water he pursed his lips and with a little nod headed over to get a drink. The lilac point siamese didn't bother giving even a cursory glance around the den to see if Kier was in residence.
It wasn't until after he had gotten a drink and glanced around he realized he was the sole resident of the den and his shoulders slumped as he realized Kier wasn't around. Flicking out his paw he smacked a small rock aside with a grumble; he didn't want to go back to the medicine cat den for bed, he wanted to talk to Kier. Narrowing his eyes he let out a little snort before stalking up the rocks towards the mossy top, sitting down with a huff and determined to settle in wait. He would talk to the leader of Nightclan today.
Only moments later it seemed the little tom was curled up and fast asleep like he belonged there. Barley out of kithood as he was he didn't have the fortitude for a late night nor did he have the shame or fear that might have kept him up otherwise. He dreams welcomed him readily and he eagerly sank into them seemingly forgetting his whole purpose.
Unbeknownst to the apprentice, Kier padded quietly up the winding slope to his nest, pawsteps careful as a hunter’s, unblinking eyes trained on the sleeping tom. If he had found anyone else sleeping in his nest, he would have snapped at them immediately, would have thrown around threats about heads upon pikes and meant them, would have dragged them from the moss by the scruff and dangled them over the edge of the drop, encouraging them with a breezy smile to beg and apologise and plead for their life. But Lilacpaw, irritating as he was, enjoyed special privileges for the simple reason that he openly worshipped Kier. If there was one thing that blinded him, one thing that had him purring and relenting, it was flattery. Any apprentice could have pandered to Kier’s arrogance and ended up medicine cat apprentice, ended up with food and special treatment when the rest of the Clan was starving; it was just that Lilacpaw had happened to do it. That his idolatry of him made him easy to use was almost secondary; he was a perfect puppet, yes, too young to remember anything but snippets before Kier’s ascension, and crass and egotistical enough to enjoy doing whatever detrimental things to NightClan Kier might ask him to do — but, more than that, Kier just enjoyed his presence. Enjoyed being complimented and idolised, trailed after and imitated. He kept Lilacpaw around for that reason, to have his own personal ego booster on hand throughout the day. He wasn’t ingratiating, either, wasn’t sycophantic — Kier liked sycophants, of course, liked being fawned over even if the attentions were false. But it was refreshing, too, to have someone like Lilacpaw, someone to whom violence, bad temper, and self-centredness was so run of the mill. Though he would never say it, Kier was rather fond of him.
So, rather than shouting something vicious at the sleeping apprentice, Kier just quietly, carefully, sat down beside him, looking amused. However, Lilacpaw hadn’t yet started his habit of waking him up in the middle of his sleep, and thus also disturbing Eris in the process, to tell him ideas about how to bend NightClan to their will while he was bleary-eyed and barely lucid, so maybe his opinion of the vain apprentice would change.
“Enjoying my nest?” he asked, tail wrapped idly around his forepaws. “Anything in particular you needed, or did you just want to try out the bedding? Shall I fetch you anything? Meal? Sceptre? Pretty girl, pretty boy? I’m sorry — maybe I shouldn’t be disturbing you at all. I’ll come back.” He made no move to leave, just continued to gaze down at the apprentice with his brows slightly raised in sardonic dryness. Finally, he raised a paw and hit Lilacpaw hard on the foreleg, only a warning but a little more ordering, a little more savage, than strictly necessary. His voice took on a different tone. “Come on, get up. Out. You’re lucky I don’t skin you for your mother to see. Up.”
"It's always demands with you." Lilacpaw pouted but still slunk to his feet and out of the nest with petulance of a sulking pre-teen. "Why can't you ask how my day was. Like 'what did you do today Lilacpaw?' 'Learn anything today Lilacpaw' 'How's the family Lilacpaw'" Despite his tone his eyes were alight at Kiers presence and glues on him with reverence. As he took a seat outside the nest he peered up at Kier and debated continuing his complaining before deciding he had pushed his luck enough in the moment and would wait for the next one.
Perking up as he recalled the first things Kier had said to him his whole atmosphere changed and his shoulders rolled back as he smirked up towards the older tom in pride. "I think you should get rid of my father!" He declared with a bright little grin and chirp in his tone. So twisted up that the words were nothing more than a happy little report he was delivering to his idol. "All he does is argue with mother about how he should kill you or Snowblister in your sleep."
Pausing he grimaced and looked away before speaking up again, tone dropping once more as he started a new tangent. "I don't like it." Pausing he took a deep breath before huffing and glancing back towards Kier. "I don't like what they say about you! It's not fair that they're being so mean to you!" His tail lashed and he stomped a small paw in demonstrative emotion. In his mind Kier deserved the world and more served at his feet on a platter.
Kier had given him the attention and authority he had so craved from the moment he was old enough to understand his own desires. It was the others in Nightclan; the disgusting excuses for warriors who thought they were so noble and mighty that deserved criticism. Kier was their leader now and they needed to respect him. "I can talk to Twilightdance! Maybe she can come up with something that will take away their ability to speak! Then they'll have to stop being so horrible. They're wasting their breath anyway so it's not like they need to be able to speak." Pausing in his tirade he blinked at Kier and leaned forward, "you should just rip out their tongues."
Kier smiled with harmless amusement as Lilacpaw grumbled, waiting patiently until he could finally step into the apprentice’s place and settle down pointedly in his rightful nest. It was already warm, but even that didn’t make him mad. “I would ask,” he replied warmly, re-fluffing up his nest and looking up at Lilacpaw with raised brows and hooded eyes, “if I cared.” There was a cruelly pleased, triumphant purr in his voice, even over such a petty show of superiority and power.
As the apprentice continued, Kier went on reordering his nest, unconcernedly tugging out dry strips of moss with his head bowed even as he talked of his father plotting to kill him. “In my sleep?” Kier echoed importantly, in the sort of teasingly over-serious tone one uses with a child. “Well, that’s not very honourable. He’s welcome to try it out on Snowblister first — I don’t think he’ll get very far.”
Smiling, he finally looked up. Truly, he was touched that the apprentice cared for his wellbeing so much that he was willing to lead his own parents to the gallows. It spoke wonders of what a NightClan apprentice could be, if only all were as predisposed to treachery as he. His volatility, his erratic, wild card violence, would grow into an indispensable asset, like having a pair of furious, snapping jaws at his beck and call. He watched patiently as he threw his tantrum, lashing his tail and stomping his paws. Finally, setting down his paws, he spoke. “Lilacpaw, it’s alright. I appreciate your concern, but if I executed every cat who spoke against me, I’d have no Clan left. These are normal growing pains.” As he ranted and raved about cutting off tongues, Kier only continued to smile, a purr growing in his throat like he was watching a kit take its first steps. It was a nice idea, if impractical; he was learning all by himself. Silently, and giving no hint that the idea was of any use, he tucked the concept away with Moonblight in mind. “If you want to rip out tongues, you needn’t go to Twilightdance — she’s a little too dainty, you understand. Better to leave her to the healing and,” he looked away, feigning disinterest, or distaste, “translating.” His gaze returned to Lilacpaw. “You only need to come to me. I taught her all she knows,” that wasn’t true; he’d taught a lot, but he would never pass up the opportunity to take full credit, especially in front of someone so admiring and eager to be fed fresh worship material, “— there’s no poison, no unsanitary cruelty, that I’m not familiar with. At the next scheduled execution, you can try out this tongue cutting of yours — would that satisfy whatever pubescent hysteria you’re going through?” Despite his clear mockery, he sounded surprisingly patient, almost gentle, like he really was trying to settle and soothe the fire within him. “Torture is a wonderful outlet.”
“Incidentally, though,” he continued, slipping one paw out from beneath him and tapping his claws on the edge of his nest as he looked away, thinking. “Which one is your father? Maybe we ought to pay him a visit after all. Cut tongues or no, it wouldn’t be amiss to show my face.” He smiled at Lilacpaw conspiratorially, slyly, pleased to have someone to instil his teachings into. “Nothing frightens dissenters more than a casual drop in.”
"We don't need a clan." Lilacpaw muttered under his breath. mutinous and sullen at what he perceived as being patronized. Though his demeanor perked up a bit at what he took as approval towards his cutting tongues idea, inwardly crowing at Kier agreeing with him that Twilightdance was a bore. It just as quickly crashed and burned 'pubescent hysteria!' He was ready to declare that the other wasn't taking his seriously, ready to stomp off in a fit even if it earned him some form of punishment. Thus far he had managed to avoid more than a smack, but he didn't delude himself that Kier wouldn't escalate should Lilacpaw push his disrespect across some yet undefined line. It would be worth it though, and he was confident Kier would never do irreversible damage. Ah, the young, so foolish.
"My father!" He cut in as Kier spoke and wasn't surprised when the other kept speaking, ignoring his interruptions as others often did. Soon he would have to stand up for himself and show he wasn't a child, but for now he would graciously allow it. "My father is Snapdragon!" He paused and considered if he should name his mother or siblings but supposed his father was the truly root of the problem. So brashly declaring his dissenting thoughts and ideas. Not for a single moment did Lilacpaw feel an ounce of hesitation or regret, only eagerness to do what Kier wanted; or what he thought the tom wanted.
It was a wonder what the lean little thing would turn into as he grew older, would he grow fangs of his own; eager for his own throne and devotees. Or would he forever content himself with Kiers occasionally affections and praise. Perhaps he would never get to grow old, maybe one day sticking his head into the lions max would get it bitten off. Perhaps those he so eagerly threw into Kiers jaws would rally against him and he would loose his life in a tragic accident. None of these thoughts of his future ever passed his mind, Lilacpaw only thought of the present and nothing more. Only thought of getting a smile from Kier, so devoted he unknowingly threw away his future for this tyrant. So young and already many would consider him ruined.
If Kier ever fell off the throne Lilacpaw would be lost; and he didn't even realize it.
"We don't need a Clan?" replied Kier haughtily. "And who would we be in charge of? Whose medicine cat apprentice would you be? You stupid boy — we need them far more than they either need or want us, and the second they realise that is when we're in trouble. It's your job to keep them from realising it." He accented 'keep' with a smack to the back of Lilacpaw's head, sharp but not enough to really hurt. That was what make Kier's job so difficult: treading that delicate balance of slaughter and too far. So far, though, he was doing a remarkably fine job of it. All those tedious meetings were paying off. Tyranny, after all, was a business, just like any other. And he loved the fine art of it. The ideas. The lists.
"Snapdragon," he echoed thoughtfully. Then he pushed himself to his paws, idle and unhurried, like this was nothing but a wander down to a tourist temple. "Well, is he home? Let's go meet this traitor who so badly wants me dead. And on the way you can tell me all those ideas I'm sure you have about our friends in StarClan." The fake signs, he meant. The separation of NightClan from their ancestors, the ascension of Kier from a mortal throne to a godlike status, no one above him but his own crown. Lilacpaw, Snowblister and Eris were the only ones he'd brought into his counsel, the only ones he could trust with the delicate matter of cutting off an entire religious entity. And even then he hadn't shared his private plans to deify himself. "And remember, any of this isn't to find its way back to Twilightdance." He turned his head to look at Lilacpaw. "You understand?"