Westwood and Control.
Jim Moriarty never knew his mother. To be honest, he never knew much about his father either, but he was just absent.
Eris had visited England to see what the fuss was about. Discord loves company, and there were a handful of other demigods being born there. She loved her kids, she truly did, but she wasn't an ideal mom and she certainly didn't want to deal with a child. So to Europe she trotted, to a bold Scottish man who caught her eye. Here, her kid would be safe. Or, as safe as he wanted to be—Jim was a trouble maker and a little crazy, which turned into a trouble maker with a lot of crazy, as he grew.
That wasn't Eris's problem, and she didn't really mind. The mortals could use a little stirring up.
Moriarty stirred them up. Causing trouble, breaking rules, being the littlest (or biggest, most overwhelming) bit cruel came naturally.
He liked the feeling of power, the control, and the lack of control.
He read somewhere that most psychopaths think they're entirely sane. Jim was called a psychopath, and he knew he was, but bloody hell. It ran in the family.
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