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Title: Something To Lose
Author: trobadora
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Cara/Dahlia
Disclaimer: Not mine
A/N: Many, many thanks to alyse, without whom this story wouldn't exist.
~*~
Loud music greeted the travellers when they neared the next village. There was a celebration going on, and it looked like it was going to last long into the night. The sun was already about to set.
Kahlan smiled widely. "Do you think they already know we defeated the Keeper?"
Richard gave her just as wide a smile in return. It was irritating Cara. They'd been like that ever since the veil had been mended, heads tilted towards each other at all times, eyes barely straying from each other long enough to see where they were going. Cara scowled. It was a wonder they hadn't fallen over their own feet.
"I don't see how they can," Zedd interjected. "But we'll soon find out the cause for celebration. And ... do I smell roasted almonds here somewhere?"
They wandered towards the village square, where people were dancing. No one paid them any mind. Cara snatched a random man and gestured in the direction of the square. "What's the cause?" she asked him.
The villager seemed to take a moment to shake himself alert; then he seemed to recognise them. He turned towards Richard. "Seeker! You're just in time for our feast."
"What feast?" Richard asked, amused. Unlike Cara's curt question, his somehow gave the impression he was taking a personal interest in the man. It was a neat trick - only not a trick at all, because Richard really was like that. Cara didn't mind so long as it got results.
The man was beaming. "We were attacked by banelings, but this warrior who was passing through helped us, and we burned them all. She saved us!"
"There won't be any more banelings," Zedd said proudly. "The Keeper has been defeated."
Cara turned away from the villager's exclamations, scanning the crowd for potential threats. She wasn't interested in this prattle.
"Who is this warrior?" Kahlan asked eventually. Apparently love hadn't completely rotted her brain yet. Cara approved.
"Her name is Dahlia of Stowcroft."
Cara's head snapped around. "Dahlia Fuller?"
Everyone looked at her: Richard, Kahlan and the villager mildly surprised; Zedd incongruously happy, almost beaming. The wizard was being more bizarre than usual lately.
But it was Kahlan who asked. "You know her?"
"A long time ago," Cara snapped. "When we were children. We were in school together." She looked at her companions with disgust as they all seemed to imitate Zedd's idiotic grin. The wizard muttered something about fate and the connection between souls. Cara didn't listen. People setting themselves up as heroes couldn't always be trusted, not that she'd ever manage to get that into Richard's head. "Where can she be found?" she asked the villager. "I will check out this ... Dahlia."
~*~
Somewhere else, long ago in a world that no longer exists, two girls huddle together in the dark, crying themselves empty until there are no tears left. Clinging to each other because there is nothing else to cling to. Remembering the words of the one in red leather, the one who is mistress of pain and terror, of life and death - holding on to them for the promise they are: Become strong, and you'll never have to fear again.
Cara's strength is for Dahlia - little Dahlia who used to follow her around after school, offering her flowers from the meadow and frogs from the pond behind her family's house. Who climbed with her into the hayloft, where they made a sanctuary for themselves among the dry hay. It's all for her. Keep strong for her, protect her - no one else will. And if Cara protects herself that way too, hardening herself, making herself into a shield, into steel - well, their mistress will be satisfied.
Dahlia's strength is for Cara - beautiful Cara who used to sit beside her in school, who ran through the village with her, who climbed the trees and played with the dogs and followed the bees to the hive for the wild honey, even at that age. It's all for her. Hold her tight, comfort her with her body, her warmth - it's the only comfort you can give. And if she gains comfort that way too, taking strength where she can in a world that offers little - well, their mistress must be pleased, or she would never allow it.
They are everything to each other. They'd never expect anything but death could part them.
~*~
Cara entered the tavern resolutely, pushing herself through the crowd all pressing in to celebrate the heroine of the day, not hesitant in using her elbows. For a moment she contemplated using her agiels. This was important; she knew it in her gut. But no; she didn't need agiels for this.
Besides, news of the Seeker's arrival had spread fast, and she was known as one of his companions. People were moving out of her way, not out of fear but out of deference. It was still strange. Cara ignored the looks she received.
Finally she reached the table where the woman sat. She was lifting a heavy tankard, saluting the crowd. Cara studied her for a moment. The warrior's hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail that, for a moment, almost gave her face a Mord'Sith-like outline. She was wearing dark leather armour. There were daggers in her belt, and a sword scabbard was hanging haphazardly from the back of her chair.
The woman turned in Cara's direction, and their eyes met.
It was she. Dahlia.
Cara scowled at herself. What did it matter, and why was she feeling something akin to loss? She'd found someone, not lost them. She shook off the sensation.
A wide smile broke out on Dahlia's face. It looked false to Cara. "The Seeker's Mord'Sith!" the woman exclaimed. "Come celebrate with us."
Reluctant for some reason, Cara hesitantly joined the table as the others made room for her on the bench, squeezing together. Someone pushed a tankard into her hand. She drank deep, but she didn't take her eyes off the woman.
~*~
Somewhere else again, long ago in a world that also no longer exists, two girls run through their village in the sunlight, until one of them is snatched away, and all that remains is a faint memory of straw dust in the sunlight, climbing into a hayloft, of being two instead of one.
Dahlia has no one to hold when the ones in red take her, no one to offer her warmth to. Dahlia steels herself for her own sake alone, closes herself to everything. She has nothing left to lose.
But when she hears that name again, for a moment she's back in that hayloft, and she knows what it is to have someone's hand in hers.
For a moment, it's almost enough to stop her from following orders.
~*~
Dahlia was all affability and cheer, but Cara had no doubt she noticed Cara's close attention. More and more frequently Dahlia's eyes strayed towards Cara, but Cara couldn't quite read the expression in them. Where was Kahlan when she needed her? But the others had left this to her. Kahlan and Richard were undoubtedly being sickly-sweet at each other, and Zedd probably hadn't stopped eating since he'd tracked down that vendor with the roasted almonds earlier. It was up to her.
Cara wasn't sure what exactly it was she suspected, but there was something. She trusted her instincts on that.
After a while, Dahlia excused herself and made her way upstairs to her room. Cara didn't bother to hide that she was close behind, and Dahlia didn't pretend to be surprised when Cara followed her inside.
The innkeeper had given Dahlia his best room, not that it was much. Clean and orderly, though. No frills. Cara approved.
Alone at last, Cara wasn't sure where to begin. Dahlia had no such hesitation. She pressed her body to Cara's. "You've been watching me all evening," she murmured into Cara's ear.
Cara thought about pushing her away roughly. She didn't. But she gripped her shoulders tightly. "I want to know who you are," she growled.
Dahlia affected a pout. "You've finally got me all alone, and that's what you want to talk about?" Her breath ghosted against Cara's skin, and Cara suppressed a shudder. Why did this woman affect her so much?
Dahlia lowered her head and pressed a kiss against Cara's neck. The gentle touch seemed to surge through Cara's entire body like an agiel's magic, inescapable. Cara threw Dahlia onto the bed and was on top of her immediately, straddling her body. She bent down, kissed her roughly. Dahlia's tongue met hers, battling for dominance. When they had to come up for air, Cara rested her forehead against Dahlia's.
"Who are you?" Cara asked again. "What are you doing here?"
She wasn't sure what she was asking any more, or why. But she needed to know ... needed to know something, whatever it was.
One of Dahlia's hands slipped into the front of Cara's leathers, cupping her breast. "Just a warrior," Dahlia breathed. She found the fastenings and began to undo them. "The banelings were a danger to me too. It was no great thing."
Cara sat up, looking down at Dahlia with a scowl. "Not that you complained when the villagers celebrated you."
Dahlia scowled. "Should I have turned it down? Should I have refused their money as well?"
Richard would have, Cara thought. But that was Richard. People needed to live from something. Instead of replying, she bit kisses against Dahlia's chin and set about divesting her of her armour. Soon they were both naked, and Cara forgot about the questions still burning inside her for the moment.
~*~
Somewhere else once again, long ago in a world that also no longer exists, two girls run through their village in the sunlight, until one of them is snatched away, and all that remains is a faint memory of running hand in hand, of trees and haylofts, of being two instead of one.
No one brings little Cara frogs or flowers after that; no one climbs with her into the hayloft. The sunlight loses its luster for the longest time. It's as if Dahlia never existed: no one speaks her name again after that day, not even in hushed tones. No one will speak of what happened. Cara steels herself against the loss, closes off the part of herself she must not acknowledge, and learns to forget.
She grows, and lives, and loves. She never knows what she might have been missing.
~*~
"I'm not a hero," Dahlia muttered later, when they were lying next to each other, lazy and tired. "I never claimed to be. If they want to call me that, it's nothing to me. I fight for a living. Who are you to judge?"
Cara pursed her lips. "You're a mercenary." Of course she was.
"I never pretended otherwise," Dahlia snapped.
The relationship between Mord'Sith and the D'Haran army had often been strained, but there was respect there, and common ground. They all fought for Lord Rahl. It was a matter of principle. Mercenaries, though ... Well, she couldn't expect Dahlia to understand.
And it didn't matter, did it?
"Why are you here?" Cara asked again, her voice suddenly raw. "After all this time?" She didn't believe in fate. Why now?
Dahlia sat up abruptly, and Cara followed suit as Dahlia rubbed a hand across her face. Dahlia shook her head, bit her lip. "It's you, then. Cara Mason?"
Cara could only nod.
Dahlia laughed bitterly. "Look where life has taken us. You, taken by the Mord'Sith, and me, becoming a warrior and a mercenary after my parents were killed in a raid. Just look at us." But she didn't even look at Cara now.
Cara looked away too. There they were. After all this time.
Kahlan's voice echoed in her mind: We don't get many chances. Cara jerked her eyes back to Dahlia and, almost despite herself, reached out to turn Dahlia's face to hers. "Here we are," she said and pressed a brief kiss against Dahlia's lips. "You, saving villages from banelings. Me, protecting the Seeker. Here we are."
Dahlia's arms went around her then, and they held each other for a long moment.
~*~
In this world, in the one that is and will be, two girls run through the village in the sunlight, until one of them is snatched away, and all that remains is a faint memory of straw dust in the sunlight, climbing into a hayloft, of being two instead of one.
Cara has no one to hold her in those dark hours, no one she can stand up for. Cara stands up only for herself. All the lives that touch hers, none of them ever reach that deep. Until she sees, in a future that will never happen - must never happen - until she sees all of her sisters dead, and she remembers what it's like to have something to lose.
She still would never have expected to hear that name again.
~*~
Cara closed the final buckles on her leathers. Dahlia was already in her armour again, looking out of the window. It was time; Kahlan wanted to get to Aydindril, so they would set off in an hour at the latest.
"Where will you go next?" she asked.
"Along the road," Dahlia said indifferently. "Something will come up; it always does." She turned around then, her eyes holding a challenge as she faced Cara. "Someone always has use for a warrior."
Cara snorted. "You didn't like being a hero?"
"Don't be sentimental," Dahlia snapped. "You know how mercenaries are. We're bought and sold." There was weariness in her eyes.
"Hm." Cara tilted her head thoughtfully. There was silence for several moments as they took measure of each other. She wasn't sure why she was so reluctant to leave this be; all she knew was that she couldn't. "Kahlan and Richard are more distracted even than usual," she said abruptly. "And Zedd is a doting old fool who won't tell them not to. Someone needs to protect them."
"Cara?" Dahlia blinked in confusion.
"Come with us to Aydindril." And before Dahlia's mouth could open in protest, Cara added: "I'll pay you."
Dahlia was silent for a long time, but then she bit her lip, and Cara knew she'd won.
~*~
In this world, in the one that is and will be, two girls' lives are torn apart. No one holds them in the darkness; they stand up for no one; they steel themselves against their lives. They become warriors, hardened and alone. It seems nothing can break through the armour they've built.
Life does.
Life does, and the Mord'Sith becomes a protector, the mercenary a hero. By strange fate, their paths change and cross.
In this world, not too far into the future, two women dance together at a wedding. One in red leather, one in dark brown - warriors both, a matched pair, hand in hand. They hold each other in the darkness; they stand together. They make their sanctuary in their bedroom. Their lives entwine. And when they dance at the Mother Confessor's wedding, everyone can see they are not alone.
~end~