A/N: Hello, everyone! It's me! xD I have here the beginning of threeshot focusing on Whitestorm, Brindleface, and Darkstripe's feelings for each other. It's my belief that Darkstripe and Brindleface were meant to be together, but the Warriors family trees say that Whitestorm and Brindleface were mates. Now, I'm very aware the family trees are a pile of crap, but you know? I thought this might be something fun to write. I hope you enjoy!

However, before you start to read, here is a warning. There is a scene in which Brindleface goes into heat. I understand that this is not explored much in the actual books, but I thought that perhaps if I had her actually go into heat it would put an interesting and realistic twist on this, so--I did. However, if that kind of thing bothers you, you should not read this.

Thank you!

Also...

Disclaimer: I do not own Warriors.

Was she always this beautiful? I asked myself as I stepped away from my mate.

I, personally, had never thought so. Brindleface had always been the most beautiful she-cat in the Clan, though. She had a rounder face than Yellowfang, a thicker pelt than Cinderpelt, was more built than Mousefur, gentler than Sandstorm, had deeper eyes than Frostfur, was slimmer than Goldenflower, younger than Speckletail, and more graceful than Willowpelt. And, well, Bluestar--she was my aunt.

She was perfect; she had always been the one for me.

She was born about a moon before I was apprenticed; I remember her mother, Dappletail, lying peacefully on her side, watching the tiny Brindleface and her littermates. As I stood staring down at the tiny bodies one day, Brindleface rolled forward, turned her head up, and opened her eyes for the first time. Our gazes locked, sand-yellow and river-blue and I knew, even at my young age, that she would be the only one for me.

I watched her grow into a young apprentice, and I gave her pointers on all sorts of hunting and fighting techniques. I spent as much time as I could with her, which was a fair amount until I became a warrior; I did everything I could to get her to notice me--everything and anything to make her look at me as someone other than a teacher, other than a "brother".

But she only expressed interest in that rancid-breathed Darkstripe--a future traitor, to both of his Clans, to his kits, his mate, and StarClan. I respected her apparent decision, however. I could do nothing to decide whether she chose me as the father of her kits, unless I took her by force, which I would never do. I would die first. It hurt, though--to be the one she confided in, to always be there for her, to be the one she cried to, and yet only to be seen as a friend, a best friend, but never as a lover.

I remember the one greenleaf when I almost gave up. Shortly after her apprenticeship, Brindleface went into her heat for the first time, and it drove her crazy (she wasn't the only one, though. It drove me insane; her scent was intoxicating.); she asked me to take her hunting, just to get her mind off of it. I didn't know how I felt about her request, mainly because I wasn't entirely sure how in-control Brindleface (then Brindlepaw) was of her actions. I couldn't tell her no, though--she was so embarrassed, just standing there in the camp, meowing frequently and kneading the ground with her back paws. Her eyes were huge when I told her I would go.

"Thank you!" She mewed, louder than she really needed to.

"No problem," I replied, deciding it would be unwise to brush her back with my tail.

Instead, I spun and lead her out of camp. She followed me for a long time, past the owl tree and near the outskirts of twolegplace. We traveled quietly but for Brindleface's incoherent meowing. It was next to the fence that I would later first meet Firestar that she could go no further.

"Whitestorm--" she choked, her eyes going round as the moon.

I refused to reply; I didn't want to encourage her. She leaned forward to brush my flank with her nose; as we touched, she put her rump up in the air.

"Please control yourself," I mewed through clenched teeth; I sounded wretched. "I don't want to do anything we'll regret. You're just an apprentice!"

"I'm begging you!" Brindlepaw whined.

"No," I said firmly. "If you bear kits, Sunstar will kill us! You can't have kits till you're a warrior!"

I couldn't look at her.

"For StarClan's sake!" a voice said from behind us. "Can't you see how miserable she is?"

Darkpaw--Brindlepaw's precious Darkpaw--melted out from the shadows. His dark pelt shone in the sunlight and his amber-yellow eyes gleamed.

"Darkpaw!" Brindlepaw all but yowled, bounding forward, stiff-legged, to press her nose into his flank.

"Hey, star shine," he murmured, and then turned to me. "What's wrong with you? Can't you see how much she needs someone?"

"Shut up, you piece of mouse-dung," I spat, my neck fur bristling and my tail puffing out like a cloud. "You know very well she's too young to bear kits, yours or mine. She can't even think clearly, for StarClan's sake! Don't force her into something she's not ready for!"

"Calm down, furball," Darkpaw muttered snidely. "There'll be no forcing this. That I'll leave to you."

I watched them walk away, Darkpaw's tail wrapped around Brindlepaw's neck, and was never so disappointed in my life.

It was the one true chance I would ever have with her, and I ruined it.

--

It was many seasons later that Brindleface and Darkstripe had a fight. I watched as Darkstripe sulked into camp, taking his seat next to the massive Tigerclaw. Brindleface was not to be seen, but I smelled her all over Darkstripe, along with the rage washing in waves off his pelt. I raised my fur in silent anger, mouthing "what did you do to her?" as I pelted out of the gorse tunnel.

I found her crouched on Sunningrocks, staring out at the water with a vacant look across her gentle tabby face.

"What happened?" I asked, wrapping my tail around her tiny shoulders gently.

"He doesn't want them," she whispered sorrowfully.

I didn't even need to ask about 'them'. From the day she could first mewl, Brindleface had always expressed a deep, passionate want for kits of her own. I knew she'd be a great mother; she was gentle, unable to spit out a single harsh word. Fighting was not suited for her; she was simply built for motherhood.

"I'm so sorry," I said, as softly as I could.

I almost felt lost--her hurt was, had, and would always be mine as well.

"He says he can't be a father, Whitestorm," she cried. "He says he's not ready; he only has room in his heart for one cat, and that's me."

I wanted to respond, "No, that cat is Tigerclaw," but I could never intentionally cause her pain.

"He doesn't mean that," I consoled her. "I know he loves you."

"I know, Whitestorm. But that's not enough. I want someone who can love our kits as well as me."

I can! I screamed in my head. I can love you more than the forest; I can protect our kits with honor. I can be there.

"You know I'm always here for you, Brindleface," I murmured in her ear. "I'll do anything for you and your family."

Suddenly, she lifted her head, her eyes glowing with a radiant realization. I knew it could only mean one thing.

"Whitestorm?" she asked tremulously. "Will you…will you father my kits?"

Shock, joy, guilt, love--all these things coursed through my veins as Brindleface spoke. Shocked because--could she possibly want a family more than she loved Darkstripe? Joy that she had asked. I would be a father! She felt close enough to me to ask such a favor; maybe, through this, she would finally feel for me what I felt for her. Guilt. Even though I didn't like Darkstripe, it felt wrong to steal his mate out from right under his nose. To father the kits of a queen that wasn't even mine. Love. Love, for my future family, for Brindleface. Pretending my guilt did not exist, I promptly replied.

"Yes. Brindleface, I would love to."

--

She said she would pray to StarClan that we would produce kits. I nodded, promising to pray with her. We walked back to camp, our tails intertwined, and throats throbbing with purrs.

It was there that Darkstripe saw us, and there that his eyes filled with hatred (aimed at me) and disbelief. Just one look into his face sent Brindleface spiraling into the doldrums of guilt, and she ran away from me, saying she had to think. It wasn't long after we separated for the evening that I caught the two talking to each other, Darkstripe whispering urgently into her ear and Brindleface nodding, murmuring under her breath. I didn't catch much of it, but I did hear this:

"I didn't know what I was thinking. You know I'll always love you, and only you."

I thought I would die.

Sure, sure, I went about with my proud façade masking my soundless screams of agony and betrayal--"why, yes, Thistleclaw, Brindleface and I grew closer tonight."

He smirked that disgusting smile of his and replied with a flick of his tail, pointing out Darkstripe and Brindleface marching out of the gorse tunnel together, their pelts brushing.

"I see she's very dedicated."

I bared my teeth, too angry to reply. Racing to the warriors den, I curled up into a large white puff of shaking cries, not sleeping at all that night. It didn't help that the two didn't return till the next morning.

--

As Brindleface's belly grew heavy and broad with kits, I found a small seed of hope growing deep in my belly. Perhaps the kits--or a few, at least--were mine. We might have only mated once, but once was enough.

It was on a day that I delivered fresh-kill to her that she suggested we go on a walk.

I cast a glance at her swollen stomach. She was very close to giving birth, but her eyes were huge and beseeching--the day she first was in heat was the only time I ever told her 'no'.

Promising Spottedleaf I'd keep a very close eye on her and ignoring Bluestar's irritable growl, we strolled out into the forest. We didn't go far; Brindleface tired quickly. I carefully selected a patch of sunny leaves and moss for her to rest on; Brindleface lay down immediately, legs outstretched, a ray of light hitting her directly on her soft face. I didn't speak; I could only gaze at Brindleface, so beautiful she was.

I could only look at what could have been mine, the perfect creature--my future, had things gone differently.

"They're yours," she murmured, flicking her tail out, trying to touch my shoulder.

I didn't let her touch me.

"You don't know that," I meowed bitterly. "I've heard all the rumors about how active you and Darkstripe are."

Brindelface's eyes widened and she recoiled as though I'd struck her. I dug my claws into the dirt; how could I have been so stupid?

I wouldn't take back what I said, however. It wouldn't make any difference.

When she recovered, Brindleface replied in a quivering voice, "You're right. I don't know. In fact, they probably aren't."

It was my time to be hurt.

She went on, stronger, "But do you know what? They're yours. They always have been--they always will be. "

"What do you mean?" I asked, an edge to my voice.

"No matter what Darkstripe says, he doesn't want these kits. I know him too well; he simply does not like kits. He just was afraid that I'd leave him to be with you. StarClan, he might have been right. But he came through for me, Whitestorm."

I dipped my head sorrowfully. "There was no question in it for me, Brindleface. I would never have to fight my instincts to love you, to make you happy. I could have been there."

"You were there," she replied. "Just not how you wanted to be."

You took advantage of me, I thought. You let my hopes fly, but you played with me like I was a bird you were going to catch.

"I'm sorry, Whitestorm. I've probably made your life miserable. You could be so happy by now, with a mate and litters upon litters of kits."

I looked up. It was her voice that day that lit a fire deep within my belly. My beliefs were confirmed that day. She'd always be the love of my life, whether she returned the feelings or not.

"No, Brindleface. You make my life worth living."

--

I was there when the kits were born, not Darkstripe. I watched as the three entered the world, each one gray with darker speckles, each the exact color of Darkstripe, the two males shaped just like him. I looked on with a mixture of disappointment, pride, and love as Brindleface nudged each kit to her belly. My stomach churned in deep knots of yearning for this to be mine, but my throat reverberated with proud purrs.

My love was rendered unable to speak--she was so filled with joy and love that no words would come out. Her love burned fiercely for each kit and she couldn't look away from them for many heartbeats. She finally looked up, smiling happily, before realizing who sat before her.

"They're not mine," I stated simply, sandy eyes burning.

"I'm sorry, Whitestorm…I…I wish they were. I wish I could be Darkstripe's partner and the mother of your kits without either of you being jealous."

I shook my head.

"Darkstripe is the only cat for you," I whispered, nuzzling her cheek.

"I know that," Brindleface replied, licking each kit in turn. She paused. "Whitestorm, I'm going to raise them to believe you are their father."

I was shocked.

"Do you really mean that?" I purred hoarsely, scratching at the ground with my paws in happiness.

"What do you think, furball? Will you raise them with me?"

I didn't even need to answer.

She grinned.

"There's one condition, though," Brindleface purred tiredly.

"Name it. I'll do anything."

Brindleface sat still for a very long time, staring unblinkingly into my eyes. The kits made soft uff-uff noises as they kneaded her milky belly with tiny pink pads.

"I want you to take another mate."

"Why?" I asked, confused.

"Whitestorm, so many cats love you," Brindleface meowed. "Isn't it funny how that works? The cats you don't love…are always the ones to love you. And those that you do--well, you know how that goes."

I nodded a yes (hey, I promised), although I wasn't very sure about this. I could never truly love another cat; would my real mate be able to see through to my deepest feelings, my everlasting love for Brindleface?

--

I did find someone. Her name was Willowpelt, a distant cousin of Brindleface, and she was a great cat. A brilliant fighter, quick-witted and brave, Willowpelt was lusted after by many toms. She wanted me, however, and I gave myself up to her as best I could.

Don't think for even a heartbeat that I didn't love her or the kits she bore. They will always have a special place in my old, bruised, and tossed-about heart.

But I couldn't resist a pang of longing for Brindleface, no matter how hard I tried, especially when Cloudtail came to our camp and she took him in. Seeing his fluffed-up pelt against hers as he suckled, I could convince myself, for a few moments, that we really did have kits together. I watched as the third kit of Darkstripe's died of greencough; I stayed by her side as she grieved. I sat next to her at Ferncloud, Ashfur, and Cloudtail's apprentice ceremonies, but yet ever since Willowpelt and I mated, we weren't as close.

I missed that so much.

You can't imagine my regret and anguish for not having been nearer to her when her mangled body was dragged into camp on the fateful day Tigerstar killed her. My heart was breaking, and no amount of love could ever put it back together. I had to stay strong, however: for Willowpelt, our kits, and, most importantly, the Clan.

That didn't stop me from sitting vigil longer than anyone else.

Ashfur and Ferncloud (then Ashpaw and Fernpaw) left the soonest, unable to truly comprehend their loss. Cloudtail stayed with us till just before the dawn light tinged his foster mother's pelt; he walked away with his tail dragging in the dust.

I knew it was time for the elders to bury her, my beautiful queen, but I couldn't make myself leave. I loved her too much; I wasn't ready to give her up. I couldn't let go of her river water eyes, her storm cloud gray pelt, her rainfall voice, her fresh grass smell.

More than Willowpelt, my other mate.

More than Bluestar, my aunt.

More than Snowfur, my mother.

More than Sorreltail, Sootfur, and Rainwhisker, my true kits.

More than Sandstorm and Brightheart, my apprentices.

More than Ashfur, Ferncloud, the lost kit, and Cloudtail, my adopted kits.

More than my own life.

More than my own Clan.

More than anything, I loved Brindleface.

Breathing in her scent, taking in her shape all for the last time, I stepped back. I felt my heart burn with a pain worse than death, but it wasn't long before my grief was lifted.

Outlined softly in the pale morning light, a starry mass glittered before my face. It lifted gracefully from Brindleface's body and turned to face me. I knew it was her spirit, ascending to StarClan--to know that she was there gave me unimaginable peace.

"I'll always love you," she whispered weakly, her eyes shining.

I grinned slightly, staring out into the horizon. "Story of my life."