Fic: Dream A New Reality (Legend of the Seeker, Cara, implied Cara/Dahlia, PG)
Title: Dream A New Reality
Author: alyse
Fandom: Legend of the Seeker
Character: Cara, implied Cara/Dahlia
Rating: PG
Word Count: 514
Author's Notes: Postage stamp, written for my
legendland bingo card. The four prompts used are in the top left hand corner and are: pain and pleasure; you're my eternal flame; in your dreams; take me home
Summary: Cara dreams
-o-
Cara dreams.
She has always dreamed - she isn't made of steel and stone, no matter what Kahlan or Richard might believe. She doesn't really care what Zedd believes, no matter what the old fool of a wizard might think about the importance of his opinions or the strangely kind-hearted way he tries to tell her about them. She tunes him out, as always. Ignores the mutterings about paths not taken and rolls herself into her blankets by the fire, pointedly turning her back on him.
She isn't ice cold and remote, unfeeling or untouchable - she simply gives a good impression of it.
She's grown used to her dreams over the years, the confusion and the screams that echo in the vaults of her skull each time she closes her eyes. They're old friends now, familiar to her in the same way as the ache when she holds her agiels or the scars written on her skin. They are the things that make her who she is.
She knows them well, the dreams that visit every night, the ones that come but no longer plague her. They tread such well-known paths, that she hasn't feared them since she was nothing more than a child, barely strong enough to withstand the feel of her agiels.
Each one is drawn from the same palette: the dark hues of red leather and old blood; the impenetrable black of the shadows that lurk in the corners. There are no silvers and golds in her dreaming world, no light colours to relieve the landscape save the silver of sharp edged blade and the glinting gold of a crown, fit to adorn the Lord Rahl's head.
The dreams grew worse when she first joined Richard's quest, as though everything she did to serve Darken Rahl rose up to taunt her with the memories when she was at her most vulnerable, least able to escape. She no longer recognised herself in them, like looking through glass that is warped or water that wavered.
But she knows herself better now, thanks to Richard, and even the sting of those memories has faded.
Once the Keeper is defeated, however, her dreams change again. She still dreams in red and black, of pain and pleasure intermingled. Still dreams of her sisters, of the camaraderie found in the Mord'Sith temple, in the sanctity of love and hate combined into something perfect and pure.
But there is a new face among her memories, one she doesn't recognise, and a new name on her lips, murmured in those moments when she rises up from sleep into the waking world.
Dahlia.
She has dreamed of that face again tonight, wakes with it on her lips, and Zedd's face, mysterious in the flickering firelight, is the first thing she sees.
He looks grave, but his eyes dance, giving his amusement away.
"We should talk about this, my dear," he whispers, careful as always not to wake a still slumbering Richard and Kahlan. "I know who you dream about, and I think it's about time I made your dreams come true."
The End
Author: alyse
Fandom: Legend of the Seeker
Character: Cara, implied Cara/Dahlia
Rating: PG
Word Count: 514
Author's Notes: Postage stamp, written for my
legendland bingo card. The four prompts used are in the top left hand corner and are: pain and pleasure; you're my eternal flame; in your dreams; take me home
Summary: Cara dreams
-o-
Cara dreams.
She has always dreamed - she isn't made of steel and stone, no matter what Kahlan or Richard might believe. She doesn't really care what Zedd believes, no matter what the old fool of a wizard might think about the importance of his opinions or the strangely kind-hearted way he tries to tell her about them. She tunes him out, as always. Ignores the mutterings about paths not taken and rolls herself into her blankets by the fire, pointedly turning her back on him.
She isn't ice cold and remote, unfeeling or untouchable - she simply gives a good impression of it.
She's grown used to her dreams over the years, the confusion and the screams that echo in the vaults of her skull each time she closes her eyes. They're old friends now, familiar to her in the same way as the ache when she holds her agiels or the scars written on her skin. They are the things that make her who she is.
She knows them well, the dreams that visit every night, the ones that come but no longer plague her. They tread such well-known paths, that she hasn't feared them since she was nothing more than a child, barely strong enough to withstand the feel of her agiels.
Each one is drawn from the same palette: the dark hues of red leather and old blood; the impenetrable black of the shadows that lurk in the corners. There are no silvers and golds in her dreaming world, no light colours to relieve the landscape save the silver of sharp edged blade and the glinting gold of a crown, fit to adorn the Lord Rahl's head.
The dreams grew worse when she first joined Richard's quest, as though everything she did to serve Darken Rahl rose up to taunt her with the memories when she was at her most vulnerable, least able to escape. She no longer recognised herself in them, like looking through glass that is warped or water that wavered.
But she knows herself better now, thanks to Richard, and even the sting of those memories has faded.
Once the Keeper is defeated, however, her dreams change again. She still dreams in red and black, of pain and pleasure intermingled. Still dreams of her sisters, of the camaraderie found in the Mord'Sith temple, in the sanctity of love and hate combined into something perfect and pure.
But there is a new face among her memories, one she doesn't recognise, and a new name on her lips, murmured in those moments when she rises up from sleep into the waking world.
Dahlia.
She has dreamed of that face again tonight, wakes with it on her lips, and Zedd's face, mysterious in the flickering firelight, is the first thing she sees.
He looks grave, but his eyes dance, giving his amusement away.
"We should talk about this, my dear," he whispers, careful as always not to wake a still slumbering Richard and Kahlan. "I know who you dream about, and I think it's about time I made your dreams come true."
The End