FIC: What She Notices [Legend of the Seeker] - Cara/Kahlan
Title: What She Notices
Name: adliren
Disclaimer: I do not own anything, nor am I writing this for profit. The characters belong to ABC and Terry Goodkind. No copyright infringement is intended.
Fandom: Legend of the Seeker
Pairing: Cara/Kahlan
Rating: PG
Summary: You begin to notice more when you no longer feel like a Mord’Sith.
Authors Notes: This is not beta-ed, so any mistakes are completely my own and I admit to it up front. Thanks for reading. Any comments or criticism can be directed to adliren@gmail.com.
What She Notices
by adliren
It’s been three days since they burned Leo’s remains. Three days since Richard, the Lord Rahl, took his place as the Seeker. Took back his place as the Seeker. Cara berates herself for the slip. Leo was only temporary. They’re always temporary.
Cara knew why the Lord Rahl chose to talk to her. He needed to hear the words out loud. He needed power over his vision, his hallucination and he would never say them in Kahlan’s hearing, nor Zed’s. It was just another human weakness in the man, but she suffered through the hours of soft-spoken words as they hunted game through the dense vegetation. She nodded or gave a slight murmur to show she listened. And she didn’t say anything when he finished and didn’t look at her, didn’t thank her, didn’t care. She was Mord’Sith, she was Cara, why should he thank her for listening to his whining. She was there merely to serve. But she did notice.
At first it’s just a niggling thought in the back of her mind. A quick brush of the hand against the agiel clears her thoughts, but it’s persistent. She remembers the way Kahlan looked at her as she handed her the torch, as her long fingers brushed against Cara’s gloved ones. Like she had looked at the Mord’Sith and saw a living, feeling person for the first time.
It makes Cara angry and sad at the same time, and she has no business feeling either. A Mord’Sith does not bother with emotion. But like the thought itself, the feelings persist.
Then the dreams start. Cara stopped remembering her dreams, if she had any, when she was seven. Her sister’s had trained it out of her. She wished that was still the case. She hated the dream.
It was always the same. She was standing on the edge of the Valley of Perdition. She sees herself with agiels in hand. To her far right, Kahlan stands with a dagger drawn, then Verna with her dacaras, ready to throw. Zed stays in front ready to launch his Wizard’s Fire. Finally, Leo is to her immediate right, the Sword of Truth poised in his hands. She is comforted by this fact and scolds herself even in the dream. Just as she does for the concern she feels that the Mother Confessor is so far away.
Across from them, stark in their red wrappings against the brown desert sand, stands the line of Dark Sisters. She watches as Zed throws his Fire, and Nicci blocks before knocking Zed to the ground. She watches a Kahlan runs to him when she should have been facing the enemy, ever the soft hearted fool. She watches as the women approach. She watches as Leo engages the first Sister to reach them. She watches as Kahlan takes on two others. She watches as she fights at Leo’s side. She watches as Nicci raises her dacara and throws- straight at Kahlan’s heart.
Suddenly she is no longer an observer. She’s in the middle of battle. There are two Cara’s, and she knows this is absurd, but she doesn’t have time to sit and ponder. She watches as her double steps in front of the three bladed disk, prepared to send it right back at the Dark Sister where it will miss her face by a hairs breadth, but Nicci, her double, the dacara, they all pause as if time has simply stopped.
She doesn’t have time to consider this development either as she turns to see a second Nicci bring her hand back to launch her lightning. She watches as Leo prepares to dive in front of it, knowing the horror of what comes next. She steps in front of the lighting, ready to catch it on her agiel and send it back. But then she realizes- there is only one Cara. She cannot be two places at once. She cannot protect both the Mother Confessor and Leo at the same time. She must choose.
Her training, her promises, her oaths, her blood scream at her to protect Kahlan, but another part of her refuses to leave Leo to burn. She watches in agony as both events seem to happen at the same time, both in slow motion. She watches the dacara near her doubles hand and the lighting race at her face. She closes her eyes unable to choose, her body and mind torn in two.
And then . . .
And then she wakes up, her face and hair soaked in sweat. Her leathers damp and slick against her skin. She wraps both hands around her agiels and holds on for dear life. Above all, a Mord’Sith should never feel fear. It is the greatest weakness of all, and an unforgivable sin. The rats were one thing, but to fear a mere decision. Her sisters may have beaten and abandoned her, but for the first time, Cara feels like she is no longer Mord’Sith, and the realization breaks something inside her, something she cannot name, something she had thought shattered long ago by a woman in red.
After the fifth night in a row she approaches the Lord Rahl as they prepare for the day’s travel. She holds out her agiels to him, the sweet pain no longer able to comfort her. She hears a gasp and knows it comes from the Mother Confessor. Richard looks at her with confusion and alarm. When he doesn’t move to take them, Cara lays the agiels at his feet, turns and walks back the way they have come. She half listens as they call her name and Zed tells them she’ll come back. She was Mord’Sith, she is Cara, and no one comes after her. She notices, but tries not to.
She walks all day, and part of the night. She doesn’t know where she’s going. There isn’t anywhere for a disgraced Mord’Sith, no place for a woman without the most basic social skills. In her head she hears Kahlan trying to instruct her in the art of small talk. Her hand reaches for an agiel and grasps only air. Without her consent her legs stop and won’t start again. She figures this is as good a place as any to camp for the night.
She has no supplies, but builds a fire mostly out of habit. The flames are small comfort as she sits with her knees pulled to her chest. For a brief moment she considers ripping off her leathers and feeling the heat on her skin. It’s not like she needs them to identify her any longer. She contemplates going to bathe in the lake she passed not long ago.
In the end she does nothing but watch the flames until she falls asleep. The dream comes quickly and plays out like before. Except this time, as she stands with her eyes closed, unable to make a decision- there’s a sound.
“Cara.”
Her eyes spring open to meet the Mother Confessor’s gaze. She watches the well proportioned mouth form the word, the syllables that make up her name. It takes her several seconds to realize that she is no longer dreaming. When she does, her hand automatically reaches for her agiel, ready to force the intruder out of her personal space. Again her hand finds nothing and her chest feels tight. Kahlan slowly leans back, as if she realizes the other woman’s discomfort. Quietly she circles to the other side of the fire and simply watches as Cara regains her equilibrium.
“What are you doing here? The Stone of Tears, not to mention the Lord Rahl, are in the opposite direction.” She cannot help the venom that enters her voice, but even to her own ears it sounds weak.
“I’m aware of that. I promised to meet up with them soon.” She doesn’t say anything more and right now, Cara doesn’t have the patience to wait her out.
“Is there a reason you decided to go on this little detour?” Kahlan looks at her intently, seeming to weigh her response.
“Curiosity.”
“Curiosity,” Cara repeats, unsure what to make of the answer. She briefly wonders if the Mother Confessor is toying with her, but decides she doesn’t care. She no longer has the desire to spar with the other woman.
“It seemed like a good enough reason at the time.”
“I see. And have you come to regret your spur of the moment decision? Have you found the sight of a disgraced, worthless Mord’Sith not worth the journey?” There might have been a little desire left.
“I’ll let you know when I find one,” Kahlan answers with a shrug.
Cara turns away from the green eyes that seem to bore into her. She despises the pity she imagines in them. Hatred, distrust, even concern she could take from the Mother Confessor, but not that. Without a word she lies down and pretends to sleep.
“I think I’ll take a bath. I won’t be gone long.” Cara does not reply and soon hears the other woman walking away. For some reason, her mind fills with images of Kahlan naked, wet, washing in a lake, or was it a hot spring. She shakes off the strange thoughts, deciding it’s likely the stress she’s endured.
In the morning, she slips away before Kahlan awakens. She has traveled for more than an hour when she detects footsteps behind her. She doesn’t need to look back to know who is following. Soon they are walking side by side, but neither speaks.
At midday they stop to rest. Kahlan takes some bread and fruit from her pack and splits it with her. She accepts it if only so that she has the strength to continue walking away from the other woman.
When they are finished, Kahlan lays a hand on Cara’s arm. She knows the Mother Confessor is about to question her and decides to take the offensive.
“Do you know what the Lord Rahl dreamed in the Valley of Perdition?” Cara no longer serves the Lord Rahl. She no longer has to keep his secrets. Kahlan doesn’t answer, but she doesn’t stop her either. “He dreamed you were married to a Seeker. Not Leo,” she quickly adds, correctly interpreting the Confessor’s sound of distress. “He dreamed you lost your powers to the Dark Sisters and had a child . . . jealousy does not become the Lord Rahl.”
“Jealousy does not become anyone, Cara,” is Kahlan’s reply. The former Mord’Sith makes a sound in the back of her throat before tossing the rest of her meal to the side and turning onto the path.
They travel till dark. Once again, Cara gathers wood and starts a fire. Kahlan prepares a stew of vegetables and herbs collected on the trail. Once again, Cara accepts her share without protest.
Kahlan is quiet long enough that Cara thinks she may have escaped a night of exhaustive talk, but as the fire begins to die down, the brunette leans towards her, eyes intent and looking into her soul. Cara no longer knows if she can stop the Mother Confessor from reading her. She’s not sure it even matters.
“Do you *want* me to confess you?”
This is not what Cara expected, but the answer seems obvious enough.
“No.”
“Well what do you want then?” Cara does not think she is truly expected to answer, but apparently she is mistaken. “Because you’ve given up your weapons, you’ve turned your back on Richard, and you haven’t once tried to purposefully aggravate me in the last twenty-four hours.” The last seems to bother the woman especially. “What is wrong with you?!”
And without her consent, Cara’s voice answers.
“I cannot stop dreaming. It’s the same every night. It is weakness and idiocy, but I cannot stop. I am no longer worthy of the title of Mord’Sith. I am no longer worthy of serving the Lord Rahl.”
Now that it’s been said, out in the open, she feels a measure of relief. Again, not something a true Mord’Sith would feel. A true Mord’Sith would never give a potential enemy knowledge of their failings.
“What do you dream?” The question is soft. Cara can tell that Kahlan is hesitant. For a moment she considers telling the other woman to mind her own business or some other such remark, but what does it matter? She cannot disgrace herself further.
“I’m standing on the edge of the Valley of Perdition. I see myself, facing the enemy . . .”
She goes on to tell Kahlan the entire dream, leaving out no detail. When she finishes, her throat is raw and she gladly accepts the waterskin that is handed to her. They sit in silence as the fire burns between them. If Cara is honest, she is surprised that the Mother Confessor has managed to hold back her remarks this long. As the thought forms, the other woman opens her mouth.
“You cared for Leo.”
Again the answer is obvious. She had stated as much when she put the torch to his remains.
“Yes.”
“Well then, it’s only natural that you wish you could have saved him. It’s a good thing, Cara. It means you have the ability to feel, to care about someone. Someday you might even learn to love.”
Cara’s scoff is automatic. The Mord’Sith do not love. They may take a mate when it is convenient, and if they will enjoy the challenge of breaking them, but love is just another human weakness.
“Or maybe not.” This time it is Kahlan who lies down and pretends to sleep. Soon Cara seeks her own rest. The Mother Confessor said nothing of Cara’s urge to protect her. She said nothing of what Cara might feel for her. But Cara notices.
When they begin walking the next day, neither comment on the fact that they have once again changed direction. Neither comment on the almost casual ease in which they travel, just the two of them.
But both of them notice.
***********************
Name: adliren
Disclaimer: I do not own anything, nor am I writing this for profit. The characters belong to ABC and Terry Goodkind. No copyright infringement is intended.
Fandom: Legend of the Seeker
Pairing: Cara/Kahlan
Rating: PG
Summary: You begin to notice more when you no longer feel like a Mord’Sith.
Authors Notes: This is not beta-ed, so any mistakes are completely my own and I admit to it up front. Thanks for reading. Any comments or criticism can be directed to adliren@gmail.com.
What She Notices
by adliren
It’s been three days since they burned Leo’s remains. Three days since Richard, the Lord Rahl, took his place as the Seeker. Took back his place as the Seeker. Cara berates herself for the slip. Leo was only temporary. They’re always temporary.
Cara knew why the Lord Rahl chose to talk to her. He needed to hear the words out loud. He needed power over his vision, his hallucination and he would never say them in Kahlan’s hearing, nor Zed’s. It was just another human weakness in the man, but she suffered through the hours of soft-spoken words as they hunted game through the dense vegetation. She nodded or gave a slight murmur to show she listened. And she didn’t say anything when he finished and didn’t look at her, didn’t thank her, didn’t care. She was Mord’Sith, she was Cara, why should he thank her for listening to his whining. She was there merely to serve. But she did notice.
At first it’s just a niggling thought in the back of her mind. A quick brush of the hand against the agiel clears her thoughts, but it’s persistent. She remembers the way Kahlan looked at her as she handed her the torch, as her long fingers brushed against Cara’s gloved ones. Like she had looked at the Mord’Sith and saw a living, feeling person for the first time.
It makes Cara angry and sad at the same time, and she has no business feeling either. A Mord’Sith does not bother with emotion. But like the thought itself, the feelings persist.
Then the dreams start. Cara stopped remembering her dreams, if she had any, when she was seven. Her sister’s had trained it out of her. She wished that was still the case. She hated the dream.
It was always the same. She was standing on the edge of the Valley of Perdition. She sees herself with agiels in hand. To her far right, Kahlan stands with a dagger drawn, then Verna with her dacaras, ready to throw. Zed stays in front ready to launch his Wizard’s Fire. Finally, Leo is to her immediate right, the Sword of Truth poised in his hands. She is comforted by this fact and scolds herself even in the dream. Just as she does for the concern she feels that the Mother Confessor is so far away.
Across from them, stark in their red wrappings against the brown desert sand, stands the line of Dark Sisters. She watches as Zed throws his Fire, and Nicci blocks before knocking Zed to the ground. She watches a Kahlan runs to him when she should have been facing the enemy, ever the soft hearted fool. She watches as the women approach. She watches as Leo engages the first Sister to reach them. She watches as Kahlan takes on two others. She watches as she fights at Leo’s side. She watches as Nicci raises her dacara and throws- straight at Kahlan’s heart.
Suddenly she is no longer an observer. She’s in the middle of battle. There are two Cara’s, and she knows this is absurd, but she doesn’t have time to sit and ponder. She watches as her double steps in front of the three bladed disk, prepared to send it right back at the Dark Sister where it will miss her face by a hairs breadth, but Nicci, her double, the dacara, they all pause as if time has simply stopped.
She doesn’t have time to consider this development either as she turns to see a second Nicci bring her hand back to launch her lightning. She watches as Leo prepares to dive in front of it, knowing the horror of what comes next. She steps in front of the lighting, ready to catch it on her agiel and send it back. But then she realizes- there is only one Cara. She cannot be two places at once. She cannot protect both the Mother Confessor and Leo at the same time. She must choose.
Her training, her promises, her oaths, her blood scream at her to protect Kahlan, but another part of her refuses to leave Leo to burn. She watches in agony as both events seem to happen at the same time, both in slow motion. She watches the dacara near her doubles hand and the lighting race at her face. She closes her eyes unable to choose, her body and mind torn in two.
And then . . .
And then she wakes up, her face and hair soaked in sweat. Her leathers damp and slick against her skin. She wraps both hands around her agiels and holds on for dear life. Above all, a Mord’Sith should never feel fear. It is the greatest weakness of all, and an unforgivable sin. The rats were one thing, but to fear a mere decision. Her sisters may have beaten and abandoned her, but for the first time, Cara feels like she is no longer Mord’Sith, and the realization breaks something inside her, something she cannot name, something she had thought shattered long ago by a woman in red.
After the fifth night in a row she approaches the Lord Rahl as they prepare for the day’s travel. She holds out her agiels to him, the sweet pain no longer able to comfort her. She hears a gasp and knows it comes from the Mother Confessor. Richard looks at her with confusion and alarm. When he doesn’t move to take them, Cara lays the agiels at his feet, turns and walks back the way they have come. She half listens as they call her name and Zed tells them she’ll come back. She was Mord’Sith, she is Cara, and no one comes after her. She notices, but tries not to.
She walks all day, and part of the night. She doesn’t know where she’s going. There isn’t anywhere for a disgraced Mord’Sith, no place for a woman without the most basic social skills. In her head she hears Kahlan trying to instruct her in the art of small talk. Her hand reaches for an agiel and grasps only air. Without her consent her legs stop and won’t start again. She figures this is as good a place as any to camp for the night.
She has no supplies, but builds a fire mostly out of habit. The flames are small comfort as she sits with her knees pulled to her chest. For a brief moment she considers ripping off her leathers and feeling the heat on her skin. It’s not like she needs them to identify her any longer. She contemplates going to bathe in the lake she passed not long ago.
In the end she does nothing but watch the flames until she falls asleep. The dream comes quickly and plays out like before. Except this time, as she stands with her eyes closed, unable to make a decision- there’s a sound.
“Cara.”
Her eyes spring open to meet the Mother Confessor’s gaze. She watches the well proportioned mouth form the word, the syllables that make up her name. It takes her several seconds to realize that she is no longer dreaming. When she does, her hand automatically reaches for her agiel, ready to force the intruder out of her personal space. Again her hand finds nothing and her chest feels tight. Kahlan slowly leans back, as if she realizes the other woman’s discomfort. Quietly she circles to the other side of the fire and simply watches as Cara regains her equilibrium.
“What are you doing here? The Stone of Tears, not to mention the Lord Rahl, are in the opposite direction.” She cannot help the venom that enters her voice, but even to her own ears it sounds weak.
“I’m aware of that. I promised to meet up with them soon.” She doesn’t say anything more and right now, Cara doesn’t have the patience to wait her out.
“Is there a reason you decided to go on this little detour?” Kahlan looks at her intently, seeming to weigh her response.
“Curiosity.”
“Curiosity,” Cara repeats, unsure what to make of the answer. She briefly wonders if the Mother Confessor is toying with her, but decides she doesn’t care. She no longer has the desire to spar with the other woman.
“It seemed like a good enough reason at the time.”
“I see. And have you come to regret your spur of the moment decision? Have you found the sight of a disgraced, worthless Mord’Sith not worth the journey?” There might have been a little desire left.
“I’ll let you know when I find one,” Kahlan answers with a shrug.
Cara turns away from the green eyes that seem to bore into her. She despises the pity she imagines in them. Hatred, distrust, even concern she could take from the Mother Confessor, but not that. Without a word she lies down and pretends to sleep.
“I think I’ll take a bath. I won’t be gone long.” Cara does not reply and soon hears the other woman walking away. For some reason, her mind fills with images of Kahlan naked, wet, washing in a lake, or was it a hot spring. She shakes off the strange thoughts, deciding it’s likely the stress she’s endured.
In the morning, she slips away before Kahlan awakens. She has traveled for more than an hour when she detects footsteps behind her. She doesn’t need to look back to know who is following. Soon they are walking side by side, but neither speaks.
At midday they stop to rest. Kahlan takes some bread and fruit from her pack and splits it with her. She accepts it if only so that she has the strength to continue walking away from the other woman.
When they are finished, Kahlan lays a hand on Cara’s arm. She knows the Mother Confessor is about to question her and decides to take the offensive.
“Do you know what the Lord Rahl dreamed in the Valley of Perdition?” Cara no longer serves the Lord Rahl. She no longer has to keep his secrets. Kahlan doesn’t answer, but she doesn’t stop her either. “He dreamed you were married to a Seeker. Not Leo,” she quickly adds, correctly interpreting the Confessor’s sound of distress. “He dreamed you lost your powers to the Dark Sisters and had a child . . . jealousy does not become the Lord Rahl.”
“Jealousy does not become anyone, Cara,” is Kahlan’s reply. The former Mord’Sith makes a sound in the back of her throat before tossing the rest of her meal to the side and turning onto the path.
They travel till dark. Once again, Cara gathers wood and starts a fire. Kahlan prepares a stew of vegetables and herbs collected on the trail. Once again, Cara accepts her share without protest.
Kahlan is quiet long enough that Cara thinks she may have escaped a night of exhaustive talk, but as the fire begins to die down, the brunette leans towards her, eyes intent and looking into her soul. Cara no longer knows if she can stop the Mother Confessor from reading her. She’s not sure it even matters.
“Do you *want* me to confess you?”
This is not what Cara expected, but the answer seems obvious enough.
“No.”
“Well what do you want then?” Cara does not think she is truly expected to answer, but apparently she is mistaken. “Because you’ve given up your weapons, you’ve turned your back on Richard, and you haven’t once tried to purposefully aggravate me in the last twenty-four hours.” The last seems to bother the woman especially. “What is wrong with you?!”
And without her consent, Cara’s voice answers.
“I cannot stop dreaming. It’s the same every night. It is weakness and idiocy, but I cannot stop. I am no longer worthy of the title of Mord’Sith. I am no longer worthy of serving the Lord Rahl.”
Now that it’s been said, out in the open, she feels a measure of relief. Again, not something a true Mord’Sith would feel. A true Mord’Sith would never give a potential enemy knowledge of their failings.
“What do you dream?” The question is soft. Cara can tell that Kahlan is hesitant. For a moment she considers telling the other woman to mind her own business or some other such remark, but what does it matter? She cannot disgrace herself further.
“I’m standing on the edge of the Valley of Perdition. I see myself, facing the enemy . . .”
She goes on to tell Kahlan the entire dream, leaving out no detail. When she finishes, her throat is raw and she gladly accepts the waterskin that is handed to her. They sit in silence as the fire burns between them. If Cara is honest, she is surprised that the Mother Confessor has managed to hold back her remarks this long. As the thought forms, the other woman opens her mouth.
“You cared for Leo.”
Again the answer is obvious. She had stated as much when she put the torch to his remains.
“Yes.”
“Well then, it’s only natural that you wish you could have saved him. It’s a good thing, Cara. It means you have the ability to feel, to care about someone. Someday you might even learn to love.”
Cara’s scoff is automatic. The Mord’Sith do not love. They may take a mate when it is convenient, and if they will enjoy the challenge of breaking them, but love is just another human weakness.
“Or maybe not.” This time it is Kahlan who lies down and pretends to sleep. Soon Cara seeks her own rest. The Mother Confessor said nothing of Cara’s urge to protect her. She said nothing of what Cara might feel for her. But Cara notices.
When they begin walking the next day, neither comment on the fact that they have once again changed direction. Neither comment on the almost casual ease in which they travel, just the two of them.
But both of them notice.
***********************