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Blackfoot was always Brokenstar's protector and enforcer. That hadn't changed from when the tom was a kit, a mere two seasons younger than him, nor since the tom had become his leader.
He'd fight off the entirety of WindClan for Brokenstar.
Brokenstar didn't need his protection now, but that didn't change how he felt.
His feelings had reshaped; at first he had seen this kit, rejected by what should be his mother and littermates, and had sprung forward, helping him train before he'd even been assigned a mentor. As an apprentice, Blackfoot had kept that up, supplementing Nightpelt's pathetic excuse for training. He'd watched him grow up, despite hardly being any older than him, and they'd been warriors together in no time.
He didn't know when his feelings had shifted from being protector-mentor to the dedication that marked his every day.
It was Blackfoot who warmed his nest, first in the warriors' den and then whilst sharing tongues in the leader's den. It was he who searched his pelt for ticks and fleas. It was him who looked across camp to meet his eyes, silent permission asked for, whether to approach, to join him, to check he was ordering the right patrols.
They worked together well, better than most cats in ShadowClan, and that was what made their duties as leader and deputy easy and fluid. They were the pair that kept ShadowClan strong. Brokenstar's leadership wasn't reliant on his deputyship but he knew he was essential. He wanted to be.
But it was more than that.
He breathed for ShadowClan, for protecting his Clanmates and keeping them strong, but he equally breathed for Brokenstar in a different way. There were two warring duties within him: for his Clan and for his star.
StarClan be damned; Brokenstar was the only part of it he worshipped.
They weren't mates. He had never been clear on that, because it was more complicated. Certainly, they mated, and of course he curled into his fur and rolled in his scent, but it was something more. It was more than worship, though Blackfoot would readily commit himself to every part of Brokenstar if asked. There was a power in his leader's paws that went beyond mateship, and he had only minimal complaints about the attention lavished onto other Clanmates.
They were partners in every meaning of the word, unrestrained, and he couldn't live without him. He wouldn't, he was determined of that, for as long as Brokenstar reigned over ShadowClan he would be at his side until his breath stopped and his life was given for his Clan and his leader. Brokenstar would outlive him, it was inevitable with nine lives and him at his side, and he was prepared for that.
It was his life to give, and he would give it in a heartbeat.