To be a princess (Closed)

He was still reeling from the shock of the news, he had managed to push down the brunt of the overwhelming surge of emotions, enough that he had said his piece while barely holding it together that was. Froststar was dead, and he was to succeed him. The prophecy that he was given when he had gone to the moonstone made complete and utter sense now, and Nightstalker felt cold because of it. He was seeking refuge in Shadowclans secret tunnels, the thrum of the thunder path above him rattling his bones. He knew that one day he'd have to take the mantle, but it was too soon, he wasn't sure he'd be ready to take charge of so many lives and take them to war if necessary.

He could feel his heart shift between pounding and feeling tight and cold in his silent panic. Always silent, never showing how he was truly feeling on the outside. Sometime soon, he'd take up the mantle Nightstar, and he'd have to nominate himself a deputy, move into a new den where he'd no longer have the warmth and comfort of his clan-mates. He wasn't sure he was ready. He shook slightly and silently.

Nightstalker almost lied, the deception ready to fly off his tongue the minute Iceheart had opened her mouth, but for once, he wasn't sure he could keep it in. So much weight and pressure now rested on his shoulders, and he wasn't sure how long he could keep going shutting his own feelings down. "But that's part of the problem isn't it?" He paused, swallowing past the lump in his throat. "I've got to take up my mother's mantle, a hole so big to fill I'm not even sure I could patch a portion of it. So- I think nervous is an understatement." Nightstalker basically lamented, embarrassment at himself for being so quick to speak of his troubles.

"I'm not nervous. I'm terrified. I'll truly be responsible for so many lives, with only five seasons worth of experience." The new leader looked down at his paws, his claws unsheathing and sheathing again repetitively as they raked at the foul muck at his paws, if not a little bit ashamed for how he was acting.

"You are not becoming leader to be the next Murkystar. You’re going to be the first Nightstar.” Such a strong, but simple statement held so much significance to the young tom. But could he really be his own? For so long he had been known as the leader's son, given the best education he could get despite the dangers to go with it, with some adult constantly hovering over him and trying to mold him into something great to make up for his mentor's shortcomings. How long was his identity built on succeeding his mother and taking her mantle? What use did that have now? All those who wanted that of Nightstalker were dead now, and his mother he'd never see again even when his time to join the stars would come. Who was around to impress and scrutinize?

It took some time for Nightstalker to process Icehearts admittedly larger paw on his. He couldn't just shed all he'd been raised for, could he? He had to fill the role that Murkystar and Froststar had left behind for him. He shut his eyes and gave a heavy sigh, for something so ingrained, it was hard to let go. "You're right. I don't have to do it alone anymore." But at least, he could speak to his elders, his new deputy, medicine cat, and a council of senior warriors. He didn't have to be alone in his duty anymore.