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She cried on her own that first night. Her father was dead, her mate curled up in his place. Warming his nest was Sparrowsnap, her beautiful, bright Sparrowsnap who she wanted so badly. She needed both of them, her mate's strong presence to burn away her grief and Sparrowsnap's touch to cool her off. But neither of them were with her the night her father died.
(She hadn't quite realized she had already lost them yet.)
It was Fawntail who found her, sobbing in her nest. Wordlessly, her sister curled up around her. Always the softest of Blazestar’s daughters, she was a soothing presence.
Cloversong buried her face into her sister's fur. “I'm sorry,” Fawntail whispered. Cloversong pretended to not notice her pale green gaze, lingering on where Fallenclan’s leader slept.
Fawntail had loved him once, in her youth, but it was Cloversong his heart had always lied with.
Sparrowsnap had been a slow thing. Cloversong wasn't speaking to her best friend, Fawntail was. She had wondered how Cloversong could disregard such a brilliant, happy cat. But too, Sparrowsnap was drawn to Cloversong’s fire. Fawntail wasn't blind.
(She'd almost told them once, on a quiet spring day, her words lodged in her throat. But one look at the sadness in Sparrowsnap's eyes, placed there by Fawntail’s own sister, and she knew she wouldn't have a chance.)
Now, she silently cursed both and she drew her weeping sister closer.
“I just don't understand…” Flarestar murmured as he stood by her, “Why you can't stand with me.”
She wanted to. Cloversong wanted to with every fiber in her being, but Blazestar had taught her to stand up for what she believes in.
He walked closer, pressing his paw against her cheek. “Oh love, Clover…” His voice was racked with pain, like he was the one dying. Like it was his father who had been laid bare in the center of camp, bloody and battered. “This doesn't have to be hard. I did want was best for Fallenclan. We need a leader.”
He leaned in closer, his muzzle against her ear. “And I need you.”
She let out a whimper. She wanted to pull back. But she remembered Flarestar coming in, declaring himself leader, leaving to get his lives before Blazestar was even in the ground.
(He had interrupted her father's vigil. What had been a night to talk about Blazestar's glory was suddenly about him. It was always about him.)
“You have Sparrowsnap.” She swallowed, trembling under his touch. She didn't used to be scared of them, but Flareheart had gone to the Stone Pools and someone else had come back. (Or maybe he'd always been like this and she'd just been compliant enough before to avoid his ire.)
Flarestar moved back, his face shifting to a snarl. “Sparrowsnap is supporting me, like how a clanmate should support their leader. Like how one should support their mate.”
He was ugly when he turned his anger on her. She held back tears, “I can't.”
“You've always been so good for the clan, Clover.” She hated the way he said it, like he hadn't just snapped at her. Like she was a wayward kit he had to explain something to. “I know you'll continue to be.”
She wanted to ask what his definition of a good warrior was. She feared she already knew.
(“Why don't you trust him? I thought you didn't trust him, why is he deputy!”
“I’ll tell you everything.”)
Blazestar hadn't been able to keep his word when he came back to Fallenclan, carried on her mate's back.
She remembered the long glances her father had given Flareheart when he'd been driving himself forward, all blind ambition.
She supposed now she would never know.
Sometimes in her dreams her father said Flarestar was a tyrant.
Other times he called Flarestar his son.
She was never sure which hurt more.
“Fireclan is still a threat,” Flarestar called. He looked good, up on the rafters. He was a mighty leader and a handsome tom. Anyone would have been lucky to have him a mate. She should have been lucky. “As such, Ashfang, Leopardspots, and Mosstail will all be leading patrols along that border.
She swore she saw Mosstail flinch.
“And all patrol leaders will report to me personally,” he stated as he looked out over the clan. Flarestar puffed his chest out, enjoying himself. They're meeting with him and not Beemask, Cloversong noted. Though the deputy was currently shrunken down by the wall, gaze downcast. He didn't seem able to meet with patrol leaders that well regardless.
Ashfang stood up and looked around at the cats around her. “Alright you lolly-gaggers, get to work. You heard the boss! Rainwillow, Owleye, Splashfrost, with me, we have to make sure the rats aren't scurrying around!”
The young warrior obviously enjoyed her new power. She walked out with the three warriors following behind her like she was the deputy.
“Cloversong,” he was looking at her with that little grin that set her heart hammering. It used to be because he had her flustered. Because every she-cat in the clan had been looking at him and he wanted her. Just her. Now she was starting to wonder when she wasn't enough.
His smile only widened when she met his gaze. His face lit up and her heart sank. “You’ll never guess what!” He looked like the young warrior she used to know for a moment, all brash ideas and bravado, ready to help his clan. Cloversong felt a pang in her heart. There was a flicker of hope and she managed a smile in return.
“It’s Sparrowsnap!” he beamed. She had to admit, she was surprised. Not too much so, Sparrowsnap has been by Flarestar's side for the last moon. She prevented her smile from faltering and she was proud of that. His next words shouldn't have shocked her but…
“They're expecting kits!” He puffed his chest out. If her world wasn't spinning, it would have been cute. She'd used to wonder about this day, if the three of them would start a family. “My kits,” he drawled, giving her a pleased grin.
“They are?” She almost fell over as she stumbled on her paws. Flarestar pressed himself against her to prevent her from doing so. She leaned into his body on instinct. “Flare… What do you mean? It's only been a moon since… since…”
“I know,” Flarestar whispered, “I wasn't expecting them too, but… Clover, I thought this would make you happy.”
She thought of Sparrowsnap and Flarestar curled up in the nursery, Flarestar laying his tail over their stomach. Bile rose up in her throat. She didn't want- Not now. “It makes you happy,” she breathed out. He shifted away and she felt the loss of contact like a scratch across her pelt.
“You said you wanted a family,” he whispered. And she did, she really did. But her father was dead and her mother hated her mate (the tom standing before her.) The clan was falling apart.
And Flarestar thought it was time for kits.
She could have laughed. His eyes narrowed. “You didn't even ask me,” she whispered.
“You're not talking to me,” he countered and oh, that stung. “I'm going to go see Sparrowsnap. They're happy, at least. I hope you can learn to be as well. I want you to be in my family, Cloversong.”
He gave her one look, before turning away and leaving her trembling.
“I can't believe him,” Lilypool snarled. She'd taken Cloversong out hunting when she'd found her daughter shaking outside of the nursery. Her claws were flexed, sinking into the wood of the abandoned house they were in. There was supposed to be a mice nest in here. Both Lilypool and Cloversong were excellent hunters, but Cloversong was younger and a little faster so she was supposed to catch as many mice as possible while Lilypool flushed them out.
Her mother seemed distracted though, and Cloversong really couldn't blame her.
Lilypool was all snarls, “The audacity to…” She stopped suddenly, noticing the pained look on her daughter's face. “Oh love, I know you didn't want to hear this. But… What else am I supposed to do? It was his plan that killed-” She bit back a sob, “That killed Blazestar. And he just swoops in as leader like it's nothing. He…” Her expression turned ugly and Cloversong remembered following around Flarestar as kit, right before he became an apprentice and Lilypool thanking him and Sparrowsnap for doing such a good job playing with her and her littermates.
He's not a killer. That's what she wanted to say. She knew Flarestar. She remembered how his eyes caught the light at sunhigh, making them gleam a few shades darker than her. She remembered that he, ironically, didn't like sparrows because he'd bitten into one as an apprentice and forgot to take off the feathers and Cloversong had teased him about it for next quarter moon.
She knew too many things about him.
She opened her mouth to defend her mate, to tell his mother he couldn't do such atrocities, but she heard a creak. But she was too slow, distracted.
Lilypool wasn't. She lunged towards the sound and pinned a familiar gray she-cat to the ground.
“Ashfang?” Cloversong gasped. Her heart raced in her chest.
The young warrior hissed and swiped at Lilypool, startling the senior warrior and running off into the shadows.
“You sent a warrior to spy on me?” Cloversong hissed. Her blood was boiling as she had marched right into camp.
“Who said I sent Ashfang anywhere?” Flarestar rounded on her, before he realized his mistake, “Oh, Cloversong…” He lowered his voice, “I just asked her to watch potential traitors.”
“And that includes my mother?” she snarled. He couldn't meet her gaze. “That includes me?”
“Well,” he whispered, looking at her coldly, “I would hope not.”
Sparrowsnap's kits were born. There was a tom, a shade of dark ginger that made Flarestar pause. The she-cat was a brown and red calico.
“I like… Firekit, for the tom,” Flarestar whispered. Suddenly, it seemed like all air had moved out of the nursery. Cloversong looked at him and Sparrowsnap's eyes widened. They were all thinking of the same cat. Sparrowsnap shot her a look of horror.
“Hey, Sparrow,” she murmured, “Looking at the slope of his shoulders, he kind of looks like Bristlerose, doesn't he?” Surely Rosekit, or something different would appease Flarestar. Still, he shot her a glare.
Sparrowsnap lifted their head and gave her a grateful nod. “You know, Papa used to tell me stories about Bristlerose's mom growing up, Pinelight.” They swallowed, before meeting Flarestar's gaze, “I quite like Pinekit, for him.”
“It's a strong name,” Cloversong added, “Pines are good trees, sharp even in leafbare.” She hoped it was enough to sway their mate. Flarestar caves and looked at the little she-kit. He pressed his nose into her scruff.
“Kitekit then,” he murmured, “For the she-cat.” He lifted his head and stared down at the two kits, expression unreadable.
Cloversong remembered no one had even consulted her on names.
“My kits!” Flarestar exclaimed as soon as they were able to leave the nursery. Must to Mistcloud and Sorreltuft’s horror, he marched them around camp with a wide grin. Sparrowsnap watched on, a tired but amused look in their eyes.
“You know,” they chuckled, “One would almost think he carried them.”
Cloversong laughed in agreement, but it felt hollow. “Yeah, one would think.”
“I love you,” Flarestar told her. His green eyes were pleading and she looked away. “Don't you understand everything I’m doing is for the clan? You?”
“I think you're doing this for yourself!” she snapped back, “How do you not see that?”
“I'm trying to do the right thing, if you would just stand with me…” He bristled, “How am I supposed to do anything, when everyone is in my way?”
“Maybe they're in your way because of what you did to get there!” Cloversong roared. They were shouting in the middle of camp, she realized, cats were staring.
“I wanted you as my deputy,” he whispered for just her to hear, looking away, “Beemask isn't even doing anything. You could…”
Her gaze softened. “Flare…”
“Get out,” he snapped, he seemed to have just noticed the cats watching them. He looked at her again, betrayal in his eyes. Ryelight's smug expression was obviously too much for him. “Get out.”
She saw the anger in his eyes and noticed his claws were unsheathed. She'd never run faster.
“I told you so,” Whitewren murmured that night in the warriors den.
Cloversong only sobbed harder.
Flarestar was sorting patrols again. Beemask was nowhere to be found. He had an air of disdain as he did so, like he was above patrols.
(She knew Flarestar always went for the throat, or in this case, the top.)
She looked away, unable to stand the sight. Her father had always sorted the patrols, spoke to the lowest members of the clan with a gentle tone. Flarestar's orders were rough. He had to keep Fallenclan sharp in case Fireclan attacked. (She wondered if this had anything to do with the way Nettleclaw had led Fireclan in with a succinct grace at the last gathering.)
“All cats will have mandatory battle training!” Flarestar announced and Cloversong looked at him with wide eyes. “Fireclan is still actively a threat. I know they've been idle for moons, but I don't trust Mintstar or Nettleclaw. So, I expect everyone to review battle moves every day.”
Cloversong already knew this was a bad idea from the collective whispering that rose up from the clan. Lightningheart limped forward and fixed Flarestar with a hard look. Cloversong froze, staring at her mate. His lip curled at the black tom.
“Flarestar,” Lightningheart’s voice carried a familiar note of sarcasm that reminded Cloversong of his brother. It seemed to do the same for Flarestar from the way he stiffened. “Not all of us can do daily battle training. I-”
“I said it's mandatory,” Flarestar hissed, lashing his tail, “So it is. I'm the leader of Fallenclan.”
“Because a leader has to tell cats what they are,” Lightningheart quipped with narrowed eyes. This was bad. Cloversong could see Flarestar bare his fangs and tense up, ready to pounce-
She heard a gasp from beside her, Needlestorm looking up at his former mentor bristling at his father. She wondered for a moment, who the tom would leap to defend.
Her mate relaxed. Still, her shoulders were tense. “Well, Lightningheart,” he whispered, “If you're so unhappy with how I’m running Fallenclan, you're always welcome in Fireclan. I'm sure your traitor brother would be happy to take you in.”
Lightningheart took a step back, Mistcloud jumping between the leader and her mate. “We’ll figure it out, Flarestar. Just don't…”
Cloversong knew from their apprentice days, if Lightningheart went to Fallenclan, Mintstar would kill him. Flarestar was tense, but he motioned for Mistcloud to move.
At least he seemed to know attacking a nursery queen wouldn't go over well.
Even Needlestorm seemed to look at his old mentor with hesitation after that.
When Mosstail called him to go on a patrol, he scampered forward with no questions and a worried glance towards his parents.
Lightningheart came limping back into camp from Flarestar's training session he had led. Apparently he'd been injured in a training accident while sparring the clan leader.
Cloversong watched as went to the medicine den. She could see Whitewren and Ryelight whispering to themselves, the golden-brown she-cat’s ears folded back in anger. She walked forward to talk to Lightningheart.
(Whitewren’s ears were a light shade of pink.)
Her sister turned to look at her with a scowl and Cloversong turned away.
“The kits miss you,” Sparrowsnap whispered to her. Cloversong was sitting by the nursery. Kitekit and Pinekit were tuckered out, curled up against their parent.
“I know,” Cloversong hung her head. What she heard was, I miss you. But Sparrowsnap had his kits and his faith.
They were a good mate. Cloversong wasn't.
“I'm thinking about giving Lightningheart an apprentice,” Flarestar told her. She'd been pulled to sit by his side. Cloversong looked down at her paws.
“Why? Hasn't he been causing you trouble? Also he's coming off an injury-” One she was sure Flarestar had given him in a bought of rage.
“An apprentice will keep him busy,” the leader murmured, “Beemask already requested Primrosekit be apprenticed to Ryelight. Apparently his sister wants her.” His claws sank into the dirt. “And if I deny him it’ll look bad. But Lightningheart… he needs a distraction, if he thinks the clan is so bad. Perhaps Thistlekit, since he thinks so good at dealing with arrogant cats-”
“I think Bluekit would suit him better,” she piped up, “Thistlekit wouldn't listen to him.” Flarestar's gaze hardened and for a moment, she wondered if that was the point.
“Fine, Bluekit,” he whispered, “But I’m taking Talonkit for myself.”
Cloversong was surprised by that. “But Talonkit is Beemask's son, how do you think he'd like that?”
“Beemask isn't the clan leader,” Flarestar glared at her, “Besides, it's an honor for the leader to mentor the deputy’s kits. Talonkit will learn to listen, and Ryelight and the others will learn to respect me as leader. It's simple.”
So it's a show of power. Cloversong felt a shiver go down her spine. It only was worse when Flarestar licked her between the ears.
“Thanks for letting me bounce ideas off you, love.”
Lightningheart had less time to complain after Bluepaw was given to him. He took to mentoring naturally, he was gentle and patient with the young she-cat.
(He still winced when he walked.)
“Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey father for a clan meeting!” Flarestar exclaimed. Troutstream had his kits neatly groomed and lined up. Even Beemask was beaming next to Ryelight, who was equally proud.
The ceremony continued uneventful until Flarestar touched noses with Talonpaw, a cold gaze on his eyes. He looked up and flashed Troutstream and Beemask a look that Cloversong didn't miss, and then he looked at Ryelight with narrowed his eyes.
When he slung his tail around his new apprentice, Cloversong knew this was more than a show of power. His expression as he looked at Ryelight was a snarl. It was ugly like something out of a nightmare.
It was gone in a moment, and the was back to Flarestar, Fallenclan's shining leader welcoming his deputy’s son into the first new chapter of his life.
But Cloversong had seen the cat underneath that. She knew that tom because it was the one she'd tried to hide from her father when she'd covered for him. It was the cat who had cursed out Shadowwind and threatened him when he was young and full of anger.
He was there, no matter how many decorated lies he told himself. No matter who he blamed for his mistakes, he was the one calling the shots, just like he wanted.
He scared her. But maybe, the worst part through all of it, was she still loved him.
And maybe that was what scared her the most.