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starry-bi-sky · 10 months ago

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There are two things that Damian knows that he knows Father doesn’t.

He has an older brother

He was dead

(And a secret third thing: Damian was glad he was dead. They did not get along.)

Well. No, correction, they were two things that Damian knew that Father didn't. Past tense. Strange magic swirled through the air and created a mirage before his eyes, and immediately a scowl forms across his face.

The mirage shifts and shimmers like the light hitting a slowly turning prism, and then it settles into a memory. One that Damian does not recall. Like looking into a tv screen, it shows, faintly, a room, with most of the magic going into the image of a crib.

His mother was standing on one side, and next to her, standing on his tiptoes was a small five year old boy looking up at her. With dark hair and skin that was only few shades lighter brown than Damian's, the little boy's resemblance to Damian was undeniable.

However, his eyes were blue. Not green. Damian's scowl deepens, and he sinks back. "Danyal." He mutters, and feels eyes turn on to him.

Danyal Al Ghul. Damian's older brother. A prodigal swordsman like Damian, and five years his senior. He'd be fifteen if he was still alive. His memory of the last time he saw his brother was still clear in his mind.

(A sword to Danyal's neck. Stars were glittering through his window. Damian was five, Danyal ten. He is not sure why Danyal had snuck into his room, all he remembers is hearing a sound and on instinct reaching for his sword.)

(His brother had intercepted easily. But had not shoved the sword away. Moonlight hit his blue eyes, and Damian remembers seeing the pupils shrink to let the light in. His eyes looked almost silver.)

(His brother bares his teeth at him. Damian wants to slice his neck more than anything, and he bares his teeth back. "Good." Danyal says, his voice low in a hiss, "Your reflexes are good, little brother.")

("Of course they are," Damian remembers snarling, and presses the sword closer. But it does not budge. "I am an Al Ghul.")

(Something unrecognizable passes through his brother's eyes, and his mouth twists into something like a smile. "I know." He says, and tilts his head downwards at him. "And you will be great.")

(His brother shoves the sword back, causing Damian to stumble. And like the wind, he is gone.)

(The next morning, he goes on a mission with mother and a few others. Mother is the only one to return with Danyal's sword, and a red-eyed look in her eyes. Damian does not mourn. Now there's only one of them.)

"Momma." The little Danyal-mirage speaks, a furrow between his childlike brows as mother lowers a bundle into the crib. His blue eyes watch her, and lifts onto his toes to peer into the crib as she sets the baby down. "Who is this?"

Their mother's hand comes to rest along his back. "This is Damian, my son." She murmurs, voice low. "He is your little brother. Protect him well."

Damian scoffs internally -- not likely. He remembers every spar he ever had with Danyal, every harsh word and insult. His pushing, pushing, pushing for Damian to get up. To try again. Do it again. The only kindness he ever showed him was when his fingers bled. And even that was harsh, firm. Rolling gauze around his wrist and scolding him, telling him how to wield his weapon better.

(It was the same as everyone else, but somehow it hurt worse coming from his own brother.)

But he watches his older brother's youngest self tilt his head to the side, and then reach his chubby hand through the crib's bars. He runs small, blunt fingers over the baby's arm, and the baby jerks. Through the crib's bars, Damian sees himself grab Danyal's fingers.

And he scowls even deeper.

And Danyal's eyes... widen. He lets out a little gasp, and a small smile Damian's never seen him wear tilts at the corner of his mouth as he looks up at their mother. "Mother," he whispers, "he grabbed me!"

Damian... his scowl falters, for a moment.

He doesn't wait for a response, he looks back to the baby with sparking eyes. His expression melts like sugar as he bounces the finger being gripped tight by the small hand. "Hello, little brother." His brother says, voice its of usual firmness, but there's more fondness underlying it than Damian's ever heard. "My name is Danyal."

The mirage shifts before Damian can comprehend his older brother's voice. It shows the crib again, appearing as if a few days had passed. There is night lilting through the nearby window, and a creek of the door. The baby doesn't stir.

Danyal sneaks in, still wearing his training clothes and a sword strapped to his side. Damian's scowl returns, watching him creep over to the crib. Of course -- the last night he saw his brother wasn't the only time he'd snuck into his room.

Would he go so low as to attack an infant? Damian wonders, watching his brother cross the room to his crib. But while his fingers rest against the hilt, they never curl to unsheathe.

His brother peers into the crib again, and there it is again, that smile wider in the corner of his mouth. It's not a full one, but its as uninhibited as it gets. Dripping honey-sweet with awe. "You are so tiny." Danyal whispers, and pokes a finger back through the crib. It wriggles, then pokes Damian's cheek gently. "Was I as small as you when mother gave birth to me?"

There is no response from the baby. Not a coherent one anyways, the little thing snuffles and turns his head, mouth open to latch. Danyal stills, his eyes grow ever wider again.

Danyal says nothing else, just rests his cheek against the crib and watches the baby sleep in silence. The affection never leaves his young face.

Damian feels unsettled. Off-foot. This Danyal is foreign to him... He wonders what happened to have changed his brother's mind on him.

There's a scuffle, quiet, but there. Danyal picks up on it just as Damian does, and his head pricks up like a deer, head already turning away from the crib. The affection leaves his face, falling away like water into something serious. His blade is already slightly unsheathed.

Two assassins, belonging to grandfather, burst out of the shadows. Their swords swinging into the air and ready to strike.

Danyal kills them both, his back to the crib. It's not without struggle, and when the two assassins lay dead on the floor, the baby is wailing at the top of his lungs. Danyal has a laceration cleaving down diagonal of his cheek. It's close to his eye, just barely missed blinding him.

Damian never knew how he got that scar. He does now. (He doesn't know how to feel about it.)

His brother clutches his bleeding face, sheathing his sword as tears well up onto his face. But he turns towards the crib, and hurries over. "You're okay, you're okay, you're okay." He hushes rapidly, the League-drilled seriousness fallen away to reveal a panic-stricken five year old. He sticks one hand into the crib, the one not clutching anything, and grabs little Damian's hand.

Their mother comes bursting in that moment, and Danyal turns his head towards her. "Mother." He says, his voice cracks un-wantingly. Their mother steps over the bodies of the assassins easily. "They tried to kill Damian."

"But they did not." Talias says, kneeling down next to the crib to inspect Danyal's face and Damian's well-being. When she finds nothing of concern beyond the injury, she continues. "You killed them before they could, Danyal. Well done."

The mirage of his brother nods, his eyes teary and red.

Damian... is discomfited. he never thought Danyal would kill assassins for him. He would have thought his brother would sooner look the other way. The mirage shifts again, and it quickly shows time passing.

Danyal sits in Damian's nursery every night, after that. He lays at the foot of the crib with his sword, a pillow and a blanket with him. Some nights there is nothing but peace -- or as close to peace as a baby could achieve -- and some days assassins break in.

Danyal kills each one.

The mirage shifts again, and it shows more memories of Danyal interacting with Damian during his youth too young for him to remember. His first steps, his first words.

"Danya." The small toddler of Damian says, arms reaching for Danyal.

A frown curls across Danyal's face, and pulls Damian into his lap. "No, no, little brother." He scolds, voice firm but.. softer. "It is Danyal, Damian. Danyal."

"Danya!"

Damian's brother sighs, but there is that same-small tilt at the corner of his mouth. A glimmer in his eyes. A glimmer... that Damian is finding he recognizes.

(He always thought his brother got that look in his eyes when he was mocking him. Was he wrong?)

The mirage shifts again, and this time it shows only mother and Danyal, alone. Danyal is older, taller. Seven, if Damian had to guess. Mother has a stern look on her face, her hands tight on his shoulders. "Damian will be starting training soon, my son."

Ah, then close to eight then. Training starts, always, at three years old. He watches Danyal nod, his expression mimicking their mother's. His arms are folded, always folded, behind his back, always neat.

"You can no longer have the relationship with your brother as you did before." Mother says.

Danyal's expression... falters. It shifts, it fluctuates. He looks surprised, thrown off. Like he isn't quite sure he heard what mother just said. His brows furrow. "What... do you mean, mother?"

"I mean what I said, Danyal." Mother says, stern, "Ra's will be keeping a closer eye on Damian now that he is of age to begin his training. He will not like if he sees you both getting along."

"I am sorry, my child. But your relationship with Damian ends here. You are rivals now, not brothers." In a cruel form a gentleness, mother raises her hand and tucks a stray curl out of Danyal's face.

Of course. Damian never had a relationship with his brother because of Grandfather. Of course. No, he's not feeling a little bitter. No. There's not an inner child that still, like a candleflame, wishes that he'd had a bond with his only flesh and blood.

Danyal is dead now. So it's not like it matters. He's happy about this.

Danyal frowns, and he steps back. He looks lost in thought. "We are still brothers, mother," he says, argues, and looks up to meet mother's eyes. "Let me train him, I will make sure he gets the skill he needs. If we must be rivals, then I will teach him how to defeat me. If he can defeat me, he can defeat anybody."

Their mother, and Damian, both blink in unison. Then mother smiles something sharp, calculated. She folds her hands behind her back. "Then do it. But you will make him hate you."

"...So be it."

Damian.... Damian is silent. His world axis has been tilted on its head. He is sliding, and sliding, and sliding down. Spinning. Many things click into place at once.

More memories from the mirage show. It shows Danyal training Damian. It shows their arguing, their bickering. It shows Danyal going to their mother to praise Damian and his skills, how fast he is picking up on the sword. How one day he will surpass even him.

It shows Danyal sitting outside Damian's bedroom door every night, listening in for anyone who dares to break in. His knees drawn to his chest, his sword at his side. Sometimes he sneaks in, sword drawn, when he hears a sound.

Some nights, Damian wakes up. He remembers those nights. Danyal standing over his bed with his sword unsheathed and tight at his side. He remembers the instant terror as he immediately reached for his own weapon.

His brother always scolded him for his lack of vigilance. That had he been anyone else, Damian would have had his neck cut. He would've been dead already. It only made Damian's hatred of him grow.

But he understands now. Because there were assassins in the room that Damian, four years old, three, did not notice. Not until later. He always assumed the attacks on him after Danyal's death had been because now there was a new heir to target.

It had been the only lesson he'd been even somewhat grateful for.

Then finally the mirage shimmers, and it shows Danyal, ten years old, in one of the training rooms, mid-spar with Mother. It's fast, sharp, impressive and like a blur. Damian is unsure if at ten which one of them was the better swordsman. Some of the assassins who have never met Danyal said Damian was, but the ones who had said it was Danyal. He'll never know.

In a lull in the fight, when their swords are crossed, mother speaks. "Ra's wants you and Damian to fight." She says, teeth grit into a deep scowl. The cross breaks and Danyal jumps back, he frowns.

"We have fought, mother." He says, and dives in first, swinging for mother's feet. Mother dodges, and slices at his arm. He swerves out of the way, twisting on his feet like a dance. "We are always fighting, doesn't he see our spars?"

"Not a spar like that, my son." Mother says, a snarl in her voice. She lunges, and Danyal blocks her blade. "A fight to the death. Father has grown tired of having two heirs."

That gets Danyal's attention -- or, more accurately, it distracts it. His eyes widen, and his sword lowers for a single moment. A mistake. "What?" Is all he gets out before mother has him on his back, her blade pressed to his throat.

He freezes. As does Damian. Danyal's brows furrow, then unfurrow, only to knot up again. "Mother, what do you mean a fight to the death?" He flips to his feet when mother removes the sword. She walks over to grab her water.

"Must I repeat myself, Danyal?" Mother snaps, rubbing her forehead before swigging from her canteen. "Father wants to find out which one of you is the stronger heir, and so you will fight to the death after your training in a few days."

Danyal's tan face loses a shade of color, he looks ashy. "There must be some mistake!" He exclaims, his arms gesturing out as he peers around mother. "There is a five year disparity between us, Damian has only just started training two years ago. It would be an unfair fight!"

"Do you think me unaware?" Mother whirls on him, and there is a grief-stricken look on her face. Like she is already mourning Damian's death. Damian feels ill. "Your skill is far beyond what Damian can accomplish right now, and there is nothing that I say that can convince Father otherwise."

Danyal wears an expression like he is scrambling for answers. A white knuckle grip on his weapon. There is a long silence, and his lower lip curls up. His throat bobs, he swallows. "Is there really nothing we can do?"

Mother makes a frustrated sound, pushing her loose hairs out of her face. "Not unless Father changes his mind, or I send one of you away. But Father would surely send someone to look for you or Damian."

"What if one of us faked our death?"

Mother stills. As does Damian. No, he thinks, stiff as a rod, no way. These mirages were lying, nothing but figments of an imagination. Of some quiet what-if that Damian had not yet stomped out.

Mother's expression shifts, and then turns contemplative. Danyal notices, and keeps pushing, he looks as hopeful as he could get beyond his usual unwavering, stone-like expression. "One of us could go to father--"

"No." Mother cuts off, voice sharp. Danyal wilts, confusion flittering across his face. Damian, from the corner of his eye, sees Father tense as stone. His white-slit eyes have not left the mirage. Nobody's has.

"Father will undoubtedly check there first, it would not be a good idea. You or Damian will have to go somewhere where he would not think to look. Someone unaffiliated with the League."

Danyal's face falls, shutters, and then closes up again into stone. Mother begins to pace, and Danyal's blue eyes follow her. "So a stranger?" He asks, and there is disgust lilting into his voice.

Mother nods, and she looks just as offput as Danyal.

The mirage of Damian's brother rolls his shoulders back. "Then I will do it, mother." He says, voice unwavering. There is a stubborn note behind it all, one that Damian recognizes. "I will fake my death, and Damian will stay here."

Mother's eyes turn sharp on him, and she stops in her spot. She pivots. "Are you sure?" She asks, eyebrow raising, "There is a chance you will never meet your Father if you leave. Nor will you see I or Damian again, if you do this."

Something like fear flickers across Danyal's face, eyes widening momentarily -- as if that very thought had not crossed his mind. But then it smooths over to sharp determination. He nods. "It would be the same for Damian if it was him instead. I will do it, Mother."

Damian feels ill again. Father has a strong set in his jaw, his teeth grinding.

Mother stares at Danyal, and then her expression softens. And like before, it is grieving. "In a few days time, I and another member of the League will be going on a mission to the American States. I will tell Father that you will accompany me, once there we will dispose of the other member and then orchestrate your death."

The American States. Danyal was here, in the country. He was out there somewhere -- but no this was fake. It had to be. Danyal was dead. A fool who got himself killed on a mission with mother and left the title of Heir to Damian.

Or maybe it had been his plan all along. His and mother's both.

...Was mother ever going to tell him?

The mirage of Danyal nods, sharp. Understanding. There is a gleam in his eyes that is not pride, it is tears. And when Mother leaves the room and leaves him alone, the stone-like expression on his face crumbles and falls.

His brother, ten years old, curls up his lip in an ugly way. It wobbles as the tears in his eyes do, and he brings up his hand to slam it over his mouth. And sinks to his knees, a yell-like sob muffled behind the skin.

His brother, ten years old, looks smaller than Damian remembers him being, and cries.

Damian has never seen Danyal cry. Not once in the mirage of memories, nor in his own.

The memory holds for a minute, and then disappears. And no new one shows up. The magic is gone, and it leaves a silence in its wake. Heavy, staticky, and full of revelations.

So there are two things that Damian knows that his Father now knows too.

He has an older brother

His older brother is alive.

(And a new secret third thing: Damian wasn't sure how to feel about it.)

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #danny fenton is not the ghost king #dp x dc prompt #dpxdc prompt #i promise this is a prompt #it just got very long #danyal al ghul au #my take on a danyal al ghul au #older brother danny #dpdc #dpxdc crossover #i know the usual gist is that danyal al ghul is a better knife thrower than he is a swordsman but hey #consider: phantom has a sword when he fights ghosts. how sick is that?#his ghost form having allusions to the LoA. its not obvious but its there #did i make danny brown skinned? yeah. because him being white or not is irrelevant to me and i wanted to make him darker skinned #thinking about the angst of bruce seeing his firstborn son going “i could stay with father!” and then said child being visibly crushed #when told no. and that he may never see his father ever. actually. if he fakes his death. and still doing it anyways for damian's sake #danny loves his little brother he just shows it in an unorthodox way. some of it is not his fault #also danny being an absolute grump in amity park is very funny to me. he's an arrogant little assassin child in AP who is only here for #his little brother's sake and safety. he loves his brother but that doesnt stop him from being an arrogant little brat #gremlin assassin child danny is so funny #i know this is very ironic for me to post after posting my thoughts on danyal al ghul aus and their missed potential #but actually this prompt is what spurred that post into creation in the first place actually.#because i was thinking about this au and then went “oh hey you know whats funny--” and then i #thought about it too much to the point where i had to make a post talking about it #tried to find a balance between danny being mature for his age and also still being a kid #like yeah he’s a trained assassin and has killed but also he’s a 10yo boy about to be separated - Assumingly permanently- from his family

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goldenflowerceo · 9 months ago

Note

I would like to hear about your Deadstar au!

and howdy specifically to the other two of you who said yes. thanks for enabling me :3

basis for some of the timeline stuff takes inspiration from @bonefall’s better bones AU, where squirrelflight, leafpool, and crowfeather are full adults by the time of the TNP journey. there are some family tree shuffles, and event additions/changes/shuffles as well.

the point where it diverges from canon is at the windclan massacre. tallstar loses one of his lives in the slaughter, and deadfoot struggles to drag his leader's recovering body across the moor as fast as possible. ashfoot is helping usher cats out of camp as well, and the moor cats flee as far as they can into the night. deadfoot leads his clan to a distant, murky tunnel, and the group then starts to live off rats.

deadfoot waits patiently for some kind of word to reach them about the state of the other clans and their home. maybe bluestar would've found her need for justice spurred, and sent out a patrol to fetch them?

every day, deadfoot watches the horizon, watches as his leader's lives drain away from sickness and starvation as he offers his meals to the cats that need it more, hoping someone will appear over the rise to save the clan.

but they are alone.

finally, tallstar succumbs to the weakness he's subjected himself to in hopes the rest of his beloved clan could thrive. mourning is quick and short-lived; there's no time to honor his memory at the moment. windclan is dying, starving, and ill; and deadfoot must take up the mantle of the forsaken clan immediately. there is no time to waste.

unfortunately, deadfoot lacks the proper rights to fully assume the title of leader; the pilgrimage to the moonstone is unfeasible at this time. their ancestors have turned their backs on them, and refuse to send any guidance. deadstar feels as though his new ‘name’ is an omen in and of itself; it symbolizes the dying nature of his clan. the stars that were once their ancestors are dying, leaving their descendants deserted and forgotten.

some cats want to return to the forest territories, but deadstar and ashfoot forbid it. the cats can’t return back, lest the other clans chase them out again; or even worse, they’ve already colonized their land, and windclan does not have the stench or number to take their moors back.

eventually, though, the cats do decide to look for greener pastures and they vacate the murky, rat-infested tunnels. they settle into some land adjacent to a twolegplace, but it’s… not great. their land back home was far more flourishing and generous to the clan. but it’ll have to do for now.

ashfoot then bears two kits: eaglekit and crowkit. they are some of the healthiest and strongest kits the clan has seen in their time of exile! it must be a sign of good times and fortune, and that starclan is looking down on them once more! the children carry stars in their eyes, glistening like the tears of their clanmates who lost loved ones in shadowclan’s invasion.

as they grow, barkface takes on crowpaw as an apprentice. eaglepaw is apprenticed to (idk man there’s not enough room in my brain for information that’s not my OC but whatevs. also i don’t really remember what other windclan warriors would be alive at this time? my knowledge is rusty, forgive me. anyway it’s probablyyyy onewhisker bc of future things that happen in this AU [insert me rubbing my hands together like an evil little fly]). early on in their their apprenticeship, barkface and deadstar prophesy that the siblings will deliver their clan out of exile. (i’m like. really bad at writing prophesies but i was mostly thinking of michael joncas’ song “on eagle’s wings” bc that was a song my elementary/middle school sang a lot during wednesday mass and also the idiom “as the crow flies”).

so, crowpaw heads out with his sister and eaglepaw to find a new land for their beloved clan; they come across the tribe cats, appreciate their hospitality, and carry on their way. then, over the ridge; they see it: a sparkling lake swathed in heather and oak. excitedly, they pick up the pace on their trek, eagerly exploring the land. the streams are clear and the moors are thick with unfamiliar but homely scents. eaglepaw remarks on the intense fernweh she feels, knowing her brother must share the same sensation.

this is it. their prophesied homeland.

crowpaw stumbles across a bubbling waterfall that cascades gently into a pool of stars and silver; it whispers to him, tickling his ears in foreign yet intriguing tongues. sleeping here with his sister for the night, crowpaw dreams of starclan, an unfamiliar body of cats he’s never known, yet walked beside his entire life.

a gangly black and white tom speaks out from the amorphous mass, introducing himself as tallstar. he’s pleased with crowpaw and eaglepaw’s journey, and relieved that barkface and deadstar heeded starclan’s word despite their moonslong silence. the only thing now is to return to their clan and lead them back here.

and that's exactly what the two siblings do. with two pairs of ears clipping over the horizon, the messiahs are spotted first by young warrior gorsepetal, who has just served his moonlight warrior vigil. he lets out a joyous, earsplitting yowl, quickly rousing deadstar from his sleep as he fears that shadowclan has tracked them down again to finish the job. but instead, the aged harley (my term for an old, non-male or -female cat. fran is my term for a younger one) is tackled by his twin children, who excitedly recount their journey in overlapping enthusiasm.

ashfoot peels her kits off their father, and they finally calm down to announce to the clan their journey and findings in alternating turns. pelts of their clanmates ruffle in excitement, anticipation, and apprehension; some suggest the clowder should head out for their promised land now, while others raise scrutiny about why they should trust the word of two juveniles who've been gone from their clan for several weeks.

eaglepaw jumps to her and her brother's defense. they raise a good point, yes, but why would the pair lie when they sincerely want what's best for their suffering clan? has windclan not been the holiest clan since its founding, traditionally sleeping under the stars? why do they want to reject starclan now when their ancestors have finally reached down to cradle the moor cats in their arms after so many moons of silence?

it's decided. the clan will set out in two days for their star-gifted land.

eaglepaw and crowpaw lead windclan through the mountains and into the land around the lake; the moor cats quickly take up the entire land for themself. the twins are commemorated for their guidance and achievements, and are named eagleflight for being the main navigatoron the journey and crowpond for discovering the moondpond. deadstar finally has a way to claim his 9 lives.

moons of prosper and fortune pass, but suddenly... strange scents float upon the wind one brisk morning. deadstar heads out with a large patrol to investigate, and they come upon a group of a brown tabby, a ginger molly, a brown and gold tortoiseshell, a light silver tabby, and a silver-gray tom. there are stars in the eyes of the ginger cat as deadstar introduces his patrol as cats of windclan. the others say they are brambleclaw and squirrelpaw of thunderclan, tawnypelt of shadowclan, and feathertail and stormfur of riverclan, respectively. deadstar's whiskers twitch with hesitant recognition of the clan names. thoughts still linger in the back of his mind that these cats are here to destroy windclan... but deadstar will give them a chance.

it's been ages. windclan will be fine.

squirrelpaw starts to gab about how she's heard of windclan; a fable of a music clan driven out for being too weak. insulted, deadstar snaps about how could they possibly be weak if the stars guided them here to this bountiful land for them all.

tawnypelt steps forward to quell the storm. she explains that starclan has also guided them here after they met with a badger who called herself midnight.

apprehensive but not inhospitable, deadstar reluctantly guides the travelers back to the central moor camp so the foreigners can rest and eat. they stay for day, and then leave out again towards the mountains.

some weeks later, a horde of mysterious cats suddenly swarms upon their land. they linger on the edges, but brambleclaw, squirrelpaw, tawnypelt, and stormfur are immediately recognized. deadstar and a patrol of various warriors escort the original travelers to their camp to explain what's going on.

stormfur mournfully mumbles how feathertail sacrificed her life to kill this mystical giant cat named sharptooth to save the tribe in the mountains shortly after they'd departed. brambleclaw recounts how twoleg monsters invaded their territories and started capturing cats, with squirrelpaw interjecting how they were poisoning the rivers and tearing their trees right out of the ground. tawnypelt weeps as she tells deadstar how they had to leave everything behind to keep themselves safe.

sympathy is first offered by deadstar, but then his fur bristles with anger as brambleclaw proposes that windclan let the other three clans settle around the lake.

and the black harley snaps.

why should he let them colonize their land that was gifted to them by starclan? sure, they were chased out of their land, but they had a choice to either adapt to their surroundings and lose cats in the process, or leave for a new land.

windclan didn't even get a fucking warning.

why should he let them settle their land, when they didn't even try to find them after their exile?

throwing them out, deadstar speaks of the other three clans' proposition. some cats united under mudclaw, who rejects the idea of the other clans living here. this is their land, and not up for the taking.

onewhisker is open to the idea of the other clans living here alongside them. it's been years; they shouldn't hold a grudge and make children pay for their forebearers' sins.

crowpond and eagleflight find themself at odds. crowpond says they should send these new felines way; they found this land first, and finders keepers. plus, that stupid brown tabby who's apparently the sister of squirrelpaw is starting to claim she found the new holy site, that she's calling the moonpool? when crowpond found the moonpond first?!

eagleflight, always one open to new possibilities... thinks they should give the newcomers a chance. she tells her brother that leafpool means no harm; she just doesn't know better. she's in an unfamiliar land, and the other clans haven't been with windclan for a generation or two; leafpool's probably got so many thoughts swirling around in that pretty little head of hers.

rebellion breaks out; mudclaw and onewhisker both leading their respective sides. deadstar and ashfoot are trying their best to keep their clan united, but onewhisker's forces have teamed up with the rest of the clans to force themselves in.

in the resulting lakewide battle, deadstar loses a life; he sees tallstar, who can't bear to meet his former deputy's gaze. he didn't want it to end up this way. starclan is deliberating what the clans' fate will be. deadstar is sent back to his body, pleading for guidance on what to do.

deadstar wakes up just in time to see mudclaw and onewhisker grappling in shallow waters several paces ahead of him. as mudclaw rises to try and slam onewhisker's head into the water to drown him, onewhisker kicks the brown tabby away with his powerful hindlegs. lightning strikes in sync with the kick, and a dying tree is sent crashing down on the older warrior.

windclan is sent racing back to their camp without their leader, with crowpond trying to help his father limp back to their primary moor camp. in their absence, riverclan, shadowclan, and thunderclan move in.

many of the cats who rebelled with onewhisker are exiled, and they disperse into the other three clans.

a few days later, eagleflight pads into camp, shame and guilt smeared across her face. she pleads for her father's forgiveness, saying she didn't want to hurt or oppose him; she just wanted everyone to get along.

she enters mateship with nightcloud. two months later, breezekit is born. his eyes carry stars that shine like the tears of his forebearers.

four months later, on a border patrol, deadstar swears he sees stars in the eyes of lionpaw, jaypaw, and hollypaw. they sparkle like the tears of their ancestors lost in the great exile.

#warrior cats #ask #girltigerclaw #deadfoot #deadstar AU #leave it to me to be irritatingly unorthodox and inventive #(it's called being cooler and awesomer and interestinger than everyone else)#in case you can't tell #crowpond and leafpool rivalry. are you team moonpond or team moonpool #also rejoice! leafpool falls in love with a woman (eagleflight)#but she's still kinda awful. hates responsibility and does not like being tied down #still sorta hopelessly in love with leafp and neglects her relationship with niclo and almost completely ignores breeze #she snaps at him when he begs for his momma's attention

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