Fic: "For Want of a Nail" 2/? (Cara/Kahlan, Legend of the Seeker)
Title: For Want of a Nail
Author: orange_creative
Fandom: Legend of the Seeker
Pairing(s): Cara/Kahlan, pre-pairings
Rating: R
Summary: The Spell of Undoing changed much more than ever expected.
Spoilers: Through the S2 finale, but this is a completely AU verse. Very, very AU, but so very familiar.
word count: 3,644
A/N: I should mention that Kahlan will not make an appearance for a while and for the first few installments, it will focus on Cara and Dahlia.
Disclaimer: Copyrights associated with Legend of the Seeker and the Sword of Truth do not belong to me.
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Twelve years later...
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It was easy to accept her fate when she had nothing worth cherishing. She stood among the ranks of the deadliest, most elite warriors of D'hara, but she was nothing more than a tool to the reigning Lord Rahl. This didn't bother her, she filled a purpose and a duty that only a select few could and that filled her with pride. Despite that, she disdained her sisters and their insignificant power plays for Darken's favor. She loathed every slave she broke, each proving how weak and frail people truly were underneath their pretty words and snake oil smiles. The world she lived in was shadows, blood, and puppeteered pleasure.
Through the years she had tried pursing semblences of relationships, telling herself it was about pleasure and power, not about the desire to hold someone close and help her forget about the dungeon she awoke to every morning. She could never spend too much time in the company of any one sister, their darker ambitions eventually rearing their disgusting heads.
Constance gave her body in return for influence, thinking that her empty gift of pleasure was worth enough to keep anyone twisted around her finger. Triana schemed and plotted to bring herself glory in the hopes of one day leading her own temple. Cara took to unceremoniously dismissing her bedmates as soon as pleasure had been sated because letting them stay always led to tiresome and disappointing pillowtalk.
The only sister that Cara tolerated and consistently sought out was Mistress Denna.
Their first few times could be described as savage at best. They tore at each other, biting, clawing, and leaving so many marks on each other's skin that the other sisters began rumoring that there was a rift between her and Denna, the battlefield a spread of red silken bedsheets. It may have been.
When Cara had Denna pinned beneath her, she gladly gave into the urge to smash the back of her hand across Denna's face. The older blonde's head would snap hard to the side, lip splitting, cheek reddening, her breath coming heavy and quick.
She would look at Cara, and say, "More. Give me more."
Cara purged herself in Denna's blood, then returned the favor.
It was enough for her until Darken Rahl began calling her to his chambers in the evenings. Other sisters started to avoid Cara in the days following those nights, when she became quicker to reply with her agiel or cruel words. Denna never skirted her, purposefully sought her out.
They spoke very little, other than to direct and convey their needs. Months passed this way, a ritual of appearing in each other's quarters and leaving afterward without prompting. A day came that Cara lingered, feeling more ravished and tired than usual after covering Rahl's marks with Denna's. They did not touch afterward and the other blonde lay a small distance across the bed, tangled in crimson sheets, eyes closed though she wasn't sleeping. Cara couldn't say why she didn't get up and leave as she routinely did, but she stared aimlessly at the dark specks of their blood, scattered along the bedspread like little secrets.
After several long mintues in silence, Denna spoke softly, in a hidden voice that pulled Cara's eyes to her, "Pain is the one experience common to every living thing. It unites us."
The phrase was commonly repeated during their early years of training, but that night it took on an entirely different meaning. Cara became aware of her discontent then and that Denna felt it too. They had learned to find comfort in pain, the only constant.
"Have you ever thought to end it?" Cara replied wistfully, somehow knowing she could speak with a certain frankness.
Denna's eyes opened and gazed distantly beyond the stone ceiling, "Always."
Suicide among Mord-Sith was an unspoken secret. When a sister took her own life, those that knew her went on as if she didn't exist. To die outside of battle was a dishonor. Life was nothing but pain and misery and taking the easy way out was seen as nothing more than cowardly and frail. True Mord-Sith were neither.
Neither spoke of it again, but the trysts continued. No questions, no comments, just knowing glints reflecting in their eyes.
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Two months after Lord Rahl starting taking a sexual interest in Cara, she missed her blood cycle. She could have lied to herself, told herself that recently heavy thoughts had affected her body's routine. It was not unheard of, but Cara couldn't even believe the words from her own lips. Her adept and survivalistic mind didn't let something as silly as stress bother her.
She was with child and no doubt existed about the paternity of the father. She had stopped taking other male lovers once she began regularly visiting her lord's bed.
The knowledge of her situation in the following days plagued her mind to distraction, so noticeable that Denna confronted her.
Their mouths melded together, her fingers deep inside Denna, Cara thrust rythmically while trying to think of anything other than the envitable time that her body would start changing. Rahl heritage would be deduced quickly, leading to a temperary suspension from missions, possibly confined to the temple until delivery. Too many thoughts, too many doubts to ignore with only her own mind for company.
Denna suddenly ripped her mouth away and pushed Cara off of her, sitting up and glaring, "What," she growled, "is it, Cara?"
"Nothing." Cara reached her hand toward Denna's slick center, but the other woman caught her wrist before she could continue where she left off.
"Are you thinking of someone else?" the older blonde's eyes drilled suspiciously.
Cara gave Denna a pointed look, brow raised. Even if she had been thinking of someone else-in a way, she had-their arrangement was a convenience. A certain empathy mutually shared, but they didn't pretend to actually care for each other beyond the fact that they enjoyed being free from the silly machinations of other sisters.
Denna huffed in frustration, "I didn't mean it like that."
Cara opted to diffuse and laced her voice with teasing smugness, "I can understand if you're becoming attached. I'm very skilled."
"Right now, your skills are in question." Denna shot back and practically threw Cara's hand down on the bed, but a smirk curved at the corner of her lips.
Cara rolled her eyes, letting the words roll off of her, "My problems are my own."
Nobody had ever stopped Cara in the middle of sex and she would never admit, slightly embarassing. She hadn't realized her thoughts becoming that much of a distraction.
"If it's going to take you a whole candlemark to make me come," the words were blunt, but the playful lilt let Cara know that Denna wasn't takin it personally, "then it starts becoming my problem."
"If you hadn't stopped me-"
"Shut up," Denna interrupted, languidly laying back down, legs spread and knees bent, "and start fixing your mess."
Cara knew Denna referred to pleasure left undone, but those words echoed a harsher truth. She would deal with it tomorrow because right now the display of wetness still coating Denna's curls had Cara licking her lips. Cara settled on her heels and reached to touch, but Denna's foot suddenly planted itself between her breasts, stopping her.
"Since your fingers weren't quite up to the task," Denna extended her leg, pushing, forcing Cara to retreat toward the foot of the bed, where she kept a chest on the floor, "You should get the harness for assistance."
Tomorrow, she would fix her problems. Tonight, she forgot about them.
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Children of Mord-Sith are taken at birth. Boys to fight for the D'haran army or the Dragon Core and girls to be raised in the red leathered sisterhood. Mother and child rarely met and the bond of family was almost always non-existant.
Knowing her child lived, however far and unknown, was a fate Cara could accept. If only she were so lucky.
She knew as soon as she delivered the newborn, Lord Rahl would have his own flesh and blood taken from her and killed immediately. No heir was tolerated, no chance was allowed to grow into an adult and challenge Darken's throne. No quarter was given in Darken's pursuit to destroy, not just defeat, all of his opponents. He lusted for all types of power and immortality was merely one goal on a list of many. Were he to have his way, he would rule the three territories for all eternity. There was no need for a child to continue his lineage.
Cara continually told herself that her loyalty and devotion to Lord Rahl rose above any mere being, hersef included. Mord-Sith did not feel attachment to anyone or anything besides their master. She needed to start letting go now.
Everytime she tried to convince herself, it only brought painful fantasies to light. She would never hold her baby in the moments after labor. Boy or girl, she would never be able to teach it the ways of the world. How to be strong and withstand the worst and most terrible challenges. How to ride a horse or how to fight. None would come to be.
She could no longer avoid thinking of her father. A weak, greedy man that she had been honored to kill. She had done it for the sake of her sister, who he had been willing to sell for a pocket full of gold. Weak, so weak and broken, and Cara vowed she would never be like him.
She was alone in her quarters when her epiphany realized. She looked down at her stomach, covered by the buckles and leather of her corset, ready to be stripped after the end of the day. Her father had been weak. She was not. He had abandoned his child. Would she as well? Did she say she would not become the failure that her father had been?
Everything conflicted and contradicted. A new loyalty rose within her, took hold.
The summer was passing quickly and soon she would be unable to hide her growing belly. Cara had sacraficed everything, her childhood, her mind, and body.
No more, not this.
This child was hers and hers alone, Darken Rahl be damned.
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The good spirits, for once, must have been looking out for her because opportunity came a few weeks later. Her stomach had developed a noticeable bump that was barely hidden by her corset and only if she kept the buckles a notch looser. Fortunately, Lord Rahl resided at another temple since he didn't like staying in one place for long stretches of time, ever cautious and paranoid of plots against him. She couldn't have imagined that it worked so well in her favor.
News came from the message room, where various journey books and correspondence were kept under guard. Cara stood at the dias, arriving after being notified by Triana, a journey book lay open as she read the words appearing in scratches of black and red splotches. One of the smaller, outskirt temples was requesting a quad of sisters. Assistance was needed in ferreting out a network of rebels who were successfully finding out which girls the Mord-Sith were planning to kidnap and hiding them away before the children could be taken. Cara's knee-jerk reaction was to wonder why soldiers hadn't been sent in to decimate the town if it was knowingly harboring members of the resistance. She read who the correspondent was and from where, and was glad for the fact that it didn't happen.
Mistress Nathair, from Stowecroft.
Many years had passed since Cara last saw the teacher who personally broke her into the ranks of Mord-Sith, but she remembered the woman quite clearly. Older, blonde hair fading to white, piercing grey eyes, and strong features that would be mark her as a Mord-Sith if it weren't for the fact that Nathair was a master at dissembling. She was a proud woman too, in her ability to find, procure, and produce the best fledgling Mord-Sith. Denna was a fine example and Cara had been-until now. Mistress Nathair would not want to raze a town that she had invested over two decades of work into garnering a relationship with all of the townspeople. Her position as the only schoolteacher within leagues provided invaluable information on the resistance and prime pickings of children not only in Stowecroft, but the nearby towns and villages that sent their children to her for an education.
"I will lead the quad," Cara stated once she finished reading.
Triana looked at Cara sharply. This mission was small, more to artificially soothe Mistress Nathair's ego at being unable to find the rebel perpetrators herself. The excuse had been that the sisters at her disposal were already engaged with guarding and breaking previously captured prisoners. Necessary or not, a quad would be sent in respect to Nathair's seniority and contributions to the temples.
Cara, through her own success and Lord Rahl's favor, had enough influence to make decisions that were accepted with little questioning, but for her to take this mission was still unusual. She was a strike captain better known for her brutal efficiency in battle, manipulative strategy, and uncanny ability at finding her opponent's weakness. Cara wasn't expected to waste her time on small, delicate missions when the Lord Rahl's assault on the Midlands was finally gaining momentum.
However, there was more that Triana knew. She couldn't help but coyly reveal, "Though I suppose in your... condition, you would be required to refrain from more vigorous missions."
Something trembled inside Cara and she disciplined her voice into not betraying her, "If the sisters were more concerned about their duties and less with politics," she carefully kept her expressions blank, her voice plain, refusing to look at the other woman and tersely keeping her eyes on the pages before her, "then this assignment wouldn't require my presence to make sure it's carried out properly."
Triana stepped from Cara's side to the front of the dias, putting herself in Cara's line of sight. "Then let me lead it, I'll prove to you how qualified I am."
"No," Cara responded quickly, too quickly by Triana's narrowing eyes. Her own green gaze flickered back down to the page to write a reply, breaking her eye-lock with the brunette. "You may accompany, of course, but there is still much I need to talk about with Mistress Nathair. Confidentially."
Triana didn't respond right away, trying to uncover another hint to Cara's motivations after not getting the reaction she hoped for. Cara looked up once more, brows cinching together in rising intolerance for the other woman's presence. Triana never held up against Cara's intimidating aura, this time was no different and she left without another word.
Once alone, Cara felt drained, felt the weight of what she was doing sap her strength. Triana played her hand too early, but Cara perceived the real threat behind it-her secret was out.
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Cara idly tied the laces where her sleeve covered her glove, dressing herself alone in her quarters the morning planned to set out for Stowecroft. She was reaching for her corset and neckguard when the door to the creaked open, followed by the purposeful clacking of boot heels. She half-turned, looking over her shoulder to find Denna walking toward her, a prowling sway in her hips. She stopped at Cara's side with a dangerous slink, reaching out to take the neckguard from Cara's hand.
"Turn around." Denna commanded quietly.
Cara obliged, facing her back to the other blonde. Denna reached over Cara's head and wrapped the neckguard tight, practiced fingers quickly pulling and tying the strips of leather cord. The routine felt soothing, filling time without filling it with useless words. The corset came next, following the same process around Cara's abdomen and sides. Her body jerked minutely, the scrape of leather the only sound.
Finally, "You have dressed yourself alone for the past month," Denna simply stated, her fingers easing on the tension of the ties, securing them much looser around the midsection. There was too much intent to be a coincidence. With a pull at the shoulder, she turned Cara around to face her, locking their gazes and communicating everything they wouldn't say aloud, "Good luck. With your mission."
"Of course," Cara impassively responded, "Do you expect me to fail?"
Denna looked down and hummed neutrally while she connected the last buckle and strap between corset and neckguard. Her hand lingered on the buckle, trailing along the metal for a split second of a moment. When she stepped back, she clasped her hands in front of her, indulgent smirk in place once more, "Of course not."
Cara couldn't tell what Denna knew or did not and it unnerved her, a buzzing tingle at the base of her neck. The older blonde spun on her heel to leave, but she paused slightly to give Cara a crisp, subtle nod. It relieved an invisible weight across Cara's shoulders.
It rekindled her resolve.
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Her quad reached the borders of Stowecrofts region just as the sun lowered through the last stretch of sky.
Tersely doling out instructions, Cara didn't like how heavily she was relying on her own reputation and assumed influence to keep the rest of her quad in line and unaware of her plans, "Nathair is still parading around as a civilian," she explained for the separation, "hoping someone will loosen their tongue around her. You three, keep northeast and wait at the base of the Azrith Cliffs. I'll meet Nathair alone, then catch up with you."
Cara purposefully ignored the suspicious cast to Triana's eyes.
Quads generally stayed together, a small enough group to travel with little notice and with speed, but large enough to prove a formidable force against as many, usually more. Fortunately, Triana and the other two rode east without question. It was a simple goose chase, meant to keep the other Mord-Sith out of her way and buying her time that she desperately needed. Once her quad realized that nobody would be meeting them, they would track back to where they parted, but Cara would have at least a three hour head start, maybe more, depending on how quickly her ruse was found out.
Instead of continuing true north, Cara angled west, toward the Azrith Peaks, a snow-capped mountain range with a handful of strenuous passes. The beautifully, jagged landscape created a natural border between D'hara and the Midlands.
Cara felt an affinity and a familiary with the wilderness that surrounded her, remembering the early years of her training as a Mord-Sith. Most took place within the vast boundaries. She knew the Drowning Caves, the hills and valleys and dense forest, the lay of the land a study of warfare once it became apparent she possessed a knack for it.
Dusk began creating creeping shadows as Cara rode on her horse along the small but well traveled main road. It connected the homesteads to the town and to each other. Eyes the shade of the darkening forest keenly took in every detail, watching for a landmark that would lead her to the home she long stopped calling home, though it was never forgotten.
Nothing but the direction felt familiar until Cara came from around a bend of rock outcroppings, a fork in the road and a wooden sign appearing a short ways ahead. The scene rocked her sense of deja vu, that she had turned this corner many times and seen the road split, marked by wood and post. The sign read "EVERARD" and Cara saw the flashes of a young brunette girl in her mind's eyes. Play, and laughter. To veer left, toward the sign, the trail would slowly become private and intimate, opening into a clearing of a house that Cara visited many times in the past. To follow right would lead to another branching in the road with a sign marked "MASON."
She held every intention of taking the right-hand path, to the one place she cradled a small chance of hope. It didn't take her long, but as she advance and grew closer to the sign, the images of Dahlia only became stronger, more intense, clearer. Dahlia as frozen as a deer, wide-eyed and frightened as she was urgently guided into a hidden dugout. Blurry portraits of a familiar woman who might-have-been a Mord-Sith. She could recall running through tall grass and chalk covered fingers. Yellow, on a green dress. A desire to know and see if that little girl still existed whispered temptingly from the depths of her memories.
Still, she kept right.
She heard the noise of something approaching from behind well before she saw the origin moments after she passed the homestead sign. She turned off the road and dismounted a small distance where the dense forestry would keept her mount hidden. The creaking of wheels and clattering of hooves became recognizable while she stealthily snuck back to get a closer look at who was approaching. She could make out a single horse drawing a wagon cart, the driver the only person. Though cloaked, Cara had the feeling the driver was female. Instead of traveling past Cara, the cart journeyed toward Everard and the noise of the wagon and horse faded until it became ambient, sound slowly swallowed by the waking night life.
Though her plan told her to keep heading as she was, the urge to follow the stranger down the other road did not go unnoticed. She couldn't decide whether to trust the suspicious tense hunch in driver's shoulders or whether she was justifying a reason to satisfy a curiosity.
Cara trusted her instincts. After retrieving her horse, she backtracked to venture the other path.
TBC
Author: orange_creative
Fandom: Legend of the Seeker
Pairing(s): Cara/Kahlan, pre-pairings
Rating: R
Summary: The Spell of Undoing changed much more than ever expected.
Spoilers: Through the S2 finale, but this is a completely AU verse. Very, very AU, but so very familiar.
word count: 3,644
A/N: I should mention that Kahlan will not make an appearance for a while and for the first few installments, it will focus on Cara and Dahlia.
Disclaimer: Copyrights associated with Legend of the Seeker and the Sword of Truth do not belong to me.
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Twelve years later...
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It was easy to accept her fate when she had nothing worth cherishing. She stood among the ranks of the deadliest, most elite warriors of D'hara, but she was nothing more than a tool to the reigning Lord Rahl. This didn't bother her, she filled a purpose and a duty that only a select few could and that filled her with pride. Despite that, she disdained her sisters and their insignificant power plays for Darken's favor. She loathed every slave she broke, each proving how weak and frail people truly were underneath their pretty words and snake oil smiles. The world she lived in was shadows, blood, and puppeteered pleasure.
Through the years she had tried pursing semblences of relationships, telling herself it was about pleasure and power, not about the desire to hold someone close and help her forget about the dungeon she awoke to every morning. She could never spend too much time in the company of any one sister, their darker ambitions eventually rearing their disgusting heads.
Constance gave her body in return for influence, thinking that her empty gift of pleasure was worth enough to keep anyone twisted around her finger. Triana schemed and plotted to bring herself glory in the hopes of one day leading her own temple. Cara took to unceremoniously dismissing her bedmates as soon as pleasure had been sated because letting them stay always led to tiresome and disappointing pillowtalk.
The only sister that Cara tolerated and consistently sought out was Mistress Denna.
Their first few times could be described as savage at best. They tore at each other, biting, clawing, and leaving so many marks on each other's skin that the other sisters began rumoring that there was a rift between her and Denna, the battlefield a spread of red silken bedsheets. It may have been.
When Cara had Denna pinned beneath her, she gladly gave into the urge to smash the back of her hand across Denna's face. The older blonde's head would snap hard to the side, lip splitting, cheek reddening, her breath coming heavy and quick.
She would look at Cara, and say, "More. Give me more."
Cara purged herself in Denna's blood, then returned the favor.
It was enough for her until Darken Rahl began calling her to his chambers in the evenings. Other sisters started to avoid Cara in the days following those nights, when she became quicker to reply with her agiel or cruel words. Denna never skirted her, purposefully sought her out.
They spoke very little, other than to direct and convey their needs. Months passed this way, a ritual of appearing in each other's quarters and leaving afterward without prompting. A day came that Cara lingered, feeling more ravished and tired than usual after covering Rahl's marks with Denna's. They did not touch afterward and the other blonde lay a small distance across the bed, tangled in crimson sheets, eyes closed though she wasn't sleeping. Cara couldn't say why she didn't get up and leave as she routinely did, but she stared aimlessly at the dark specks of their blood, scattered along the bedspread like little secrets.
After several long mintues in silence, Denna spoke softly, in a hidden voice that pulled Cara's eyes to her, "Pain is the one experience common to every living thing. It unites us."
The phrase was commonly repeated during their early years of training, but that night it took on an entirely different meaning. Cara became aware of her discontent then and that Denna felt it too. They had learned to find comfort in pain, the only constant.
"Have you ever thought to end it?" Cara replied wistfully, somehow knowing she could speak with a certain frankness.
Denna's eyes opened and gazed distantly beyond the stone ceiling, "Always."
Suicide among Mord-Sith was an unspoken secret. When a sister took her own life, those that knew her went on as if she didn't exist. To die outside of battle was a dishonor. Life was nothing but pain and misery and taking the easy way out was seen as nothing more than cowardly and frail. True Mord-Sith were neither.
Neither spoke of it again, but the trysts continued. No questions, no comments, just knowing glints reflecting in their eyes.
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Two months after Lord Rahl starting taking a sexual interest in Cara, she missed her blood cycle. She could have lied to herself, told herself that recently heavy thoughts had affected her body's routine. It was not unheard of, but Cara couldn't even believe the words from her own lips. Her adept and survivalistic mind didn't let something as silly as stress bother her.
She was with child and no doubt existed about the paternity of the father. She had stopped taking other male lovers once she began regularly visiting her lord's bed.
The knowledge of her situation in the following days plagued her mind to distraction, so noticeable that Denna confronted her.
Their mouths melded together, her fingers deep inside Denna, Cara thrust rythmically while trying to think of anything other than the envitable time that her body would start changing. Rahl heritage would be deduced quickly, leading to a temperary suspension from missions, possibly confined to the temple until delivery. Too many thoughts, too many doubts to ignore with only her own mind for company.
Denna suddenly ripped her mouth away and pushed Cara off of her, sitting up and glaring, "What," she growled, "is it, Cara?"
"Nothing." Cara reached her hand toward Denna's slick center, but the other woman caught her wrist before she could continue where she left off.
"Are you thinking of someone else?" the older blonde's eyes drilled suspiciously.
Cara gave Denna a pointed look, brow raised. Even if she had been thinking of someone else-in a way, she had-their arrangement was a convenience. A certain empathy mutually shared, but they didn't pretend to actually care for each other beyond the fact that they enjoyed being free from the silly machinations of other sisters.
Denna huffed in frustration, "I didn't mean it like that."
Cara opted to diffuse and laced her voice with teasing smugness, "I can understand if you're becoming attached. I'm very skilled."
"Right now, your skills are in question." Denna shot back and practically threw Cara's hand down on the bed, but a smirk curved at the corner of her lips.
Cara rolled her eyes, letting the words roll off of her, "My problems are my own."
Nobody had ever stopped Cara in the middle of sex and she would never admit, slightly embarassing. She hadn't realized her thoughts becoming that much of a distraction.
"If it's going to take you a whole candlemark to make me come," the words were blunt, but the playful lilt let Cara know that Denna wasn't takin it personally, "then it starts becoming my problem."
"If you hadn't stopped me-"
"Shut up," Denna interrupted, languidly laying back down, legs spread and knees bent, "and start fixing your mess."
Cara knew Denna referred to pleasure left undone, but those words echoed a harsher truth. She would deal with it tomorrow because right now the display of wetness still coating Denna's curls had Cara licking her lips. Cara settled on her heels and reached to touch, but Denna's foot suddenly planted itself between her breasts, stopping her.
"Since your fingers weren't quite up to the task," Denna extended her leg, pushing, forcing Cara to retreat toward the foot of the bed, where she kept a chest on the floor, "You should get the harness for assistance."
Tomorrow, she would fix her problems. Tonight, she forgot about them.
-------
Children of Mord-Sith are taken at birth. Boys to fight for the D'haran army or the Dragon Core and girls to be raised in the red leathered sisterhood. Mother and child rarely met and the bond of family was almost always non-existant.
Knowing her child lived, however far and unknown, was a fate Cara could accept. If only she were so lucky.
She knew as soon as she delivered the newborn, Lord Rahl would have his own flesh and blood taken from her and killed immediately. No heir was tolerated, no chance was allowed to grow into an adult and challenge Darken's throne. No quarter was given in Darken's pursuit to destroy, not just defeat, all of his opponents. He lusted for all types of power and immortality was merely one goal on a list of many. Were he to have his way, he would rule the three territories for all eternity. There was no need for a child to continue his lineage.
Cara continually told herself that her loyalty and devotion to Lord Rahl rose above any mere being, hersef included. Mord-Sith did not feel attachment to anyone or anything besides their master. She needed to start letting go now.
Everytime she tried to convince herself, it only brought painful fantasies to light. She would never hold her baby in the moments after labor. Boy or girl, she would never be able to teach it the ways of the world. How to be strong and withstand the worst and most terrible challenges. How to ride a horse or how to fight. None would come to be.
She could no longer avoid thinking of her father. A weak, greedy man that she had been honored to kill. She had done it for the sake of her sister, who he had been willing to sell for a pocket full of gold. Weak, so weak and broken, and Cara vowed she would never be like him.
She was alone in her quarters when her epiphany realized. She looked down at her stomach, covered by the buckles and leather of her corset, ready to be stripped after the end of the day. Her father had been weak. She was not. He had abandoned his child. Would she as well? Did she say she would not become the failure that her father had been?
Everything conflicted and contradicted. A new loyalty rose within her, took hold.
The summer was passing quickly and soon she would be unable to hide her growing belly. Cara had sacraficed everything, her childhood, her mind, and body.
No more, not this.
This child was hers and hers alone, Darken Rahl be damned.
-------
The good spirits, for once, must have been looking out for her because opportunity came a few weeks later. Her stomach had developed a noticeable bump that was barely hidden by her corset and only if she kept the buckles a notch looser. Fortunately, Lord Rahl resided at another temple since he didn't like staying in one place for long stretches of time, ever cautious and paranoid of plots against him. She couldn't have imagined that it worked so well in her favor.
News came from the message room, where various journey books and correspondence were kept under guard. Cara stood at the dias, arriving after being notified by Triana, a journey book lay open as she read the words appearing in scratches of black and red splotches. One of the smaller, outskirt temples was requesting a quad of sisters. Assistance was needed in ferreting out a network of rebels who were successfully finding out which girls the Mord-Sith were planning to kidnap and hiding them away before the children could be taken. Cara's knee-jerk reaction was to wonder why soldiers hadn't been sent in to decimate the town if it was knowingly harboring members of the resistance. She read who the correspondent was and from where, and was glad for the fact that it didn't happen.
Mistress Nathair, from Stowecroft.
Many years had passed since Cara last saw the teacher who personally broke her into the ranks of Mord-Sith, but she remembered the woman quite clearly. Older, blonde hair fading to white, piercing grey eyes, and strong features that would be mark her as a Mord-Sith if it weren't for the fact that Nathair was a master at dissembling. She was a proud woman too, in her ability to find, procure, and produce the best fledgling Mord-Sith. Denna was a fine example and Cara had been-until now. Mistress Nathair would not want to raze a town that she had invested over two decades of work into garnering a relationship with all of the townspeople. Her position as the only schoolteacher within leagues provided invaluable information on the resistance and prime pickings of children not only in Stowecroft, but the nearby towns and villages that sent their children to her for an education.
"I will lead the quad," Cara stated once she finished reading.
Triana looked at Cara sharply. This mission was small, more to artificially soothe Mistress Nathair's ego at being unable to find the rebel perpetrators herself. The excuse had been that the sisters at her disposal were already engaged with guarding and breaking previously captured prisoners. Necessary or not, a quad would be sent in respect to Nathair's seniority and contributions to the temples.
Cara, through her own success and Lord Rahl's favor, had enough influence to make decisions that were accepted with little questioning, but for her to take this mission was still unusual. She was a strike captain better known for her brutal efficiency in battle, manipulative strategy, and uncanny ability at finding her opponent's weakness. Cara wasn't expected to waste her time on small, delicate missions when the Lord Rahl's assault on the Midlands was finally gaining momentum.
However, there was more that Triana knew. She couldn't help but coyly reveal, "Though I suppose in your... condition, you would be required to refrain from more vigorous missions."
Something trembled inside Cara and she disciplined her voice into not betraying her, "If the sisters were more concerned about their duties and less with politics," she carefully kept her expressions blank, her voice plain, refusing to look at the other woman and tersely keeping her eyes on the pages before her, "then this assignment wouldn't require my presence to make sure it's carried out properly."
Triana stepped from Cara's side to the front of the dias, putting herself in Cara's line of sight. "Then let me lead it, I'll prove to you how qualified I am."
"No," Cara responded quickly, too quickly by Triana's narrowing eyes. Her own green gaze flickered back down to the page to write a reply, breaking her eye-lock with the brunette. "You may accompany, of course, but there is still much I need to talk about with Mistress Nathair. Confidentially."
Triana didn't respond right away, trying to uncover another hint to Cara's motivations after not getting the reaction she hoped for. Cara looked up once more, brows cinching together in rising intolerance for the other woman's presence. Triana never held up against Cara's intimidating aura, this time was no different and she left without another word.
Once alone, Cara felt drained, felt the weight of what she was doing sap her strength. Triana played her hand too early, but Cara perceived the real threat behind it-her secret was out.
-------
Cara idly tied the laces where her sleeve covered her glove, dressing herself alone in her quarters the morning planned to set out for Stowecroft. She was reaching for her corset and neckguard when the door to the creaked open, followed by the purposeful clacking of boot heels. She half-turned, looking over her shoulder to find Denna walking toward her, a prowling sway in her hips. She stopped at Cara's side with a dangerous slink, reaching out to take the neckguard from Cara's hand.
"Turn around." Denna commanded quietly.
Cara obliged, facing her back to the other blonde. Denna reached over Cara's head and wrapped the neckguard tight, practiced fingers quickly pulling and tying the strips of leather cord. The routine felt soothing, filling time without filling it with useless words. The corset came next, following the same process around Cara's abdomen and sides. Her body jerked minutely, the scrape of leather the only sound.
Finally, "You have dressed yourself alone for the past month," Denna simply stated, her fingers easing on the tension of the ties, securing them much looser around the midsection. There was too much intent to be a coincidence. With a pull at the shoulder, she turned Cara around to face her, locking their gazes and communicating everything they wouldn't say aloud, "Good luck. With your mission."
"Of course," Cara impassively responded, "Do you expect me to fail?"
Denna looked down and hummed neutrally while she connected the last buckle and strap between corset and neckguard. Her hand lingered on the buckle, trailing along the metal for a split second of a moment. When she stepped back, she clasped her hands in front of her, indulgent smirk in place once more, "Of course not."
Cara couldn't tell what Denna knew or did not and it unnerved her, a buzzing tingle at the base of her neck. The older blonde spun on her heel to leave, but she paused slightly to give Cara a crisp, subtle nod. It relieved an invisible weight across Cara's shoulders.
It rekindled her resolve.
-------
Her quad reached the borders of Stowecrofts region just as the sun lowered through the last stretch of sky.
Tersely doling out instructions, Cara didn't like how heavily she was relying on her own reputation and assumed influence to keep the rest of her quad in line and unaware of her plans, "Nathair is still parading around as a civilian," she explained for the separation, "hoping someone will loosen their tongue around her. You three, keep northeast and wait at the base of the Azrith Cliffs. I'll meet Nathair alone, then catch up with you."
Cara purposefully ignored the suspicious cast to Triana's eyes.
Quads generally stayed together, a small enough group to travel with little notice and with speed, but large enough to prove a formidable force against as many, usually more. Fortunately, Triana and the other two rode east without question. It was a simple goose chase, meant to keep the other Mord-Sith out of her way and buying her time that she desperately needed. Once her quad realized that nobody would be meeting them, they would track back to where they parted, but Cara would have at least a three hour head start, maybe more, depending on how quickly her ruse was found out.
Instead of continuing true north, Cara angled west, toward the Azrith Peaks, a snow-capped mountain range with a handful of strenuous passes. The beautifully, jagged landscape created a natural border between D'hara and the Midlands.
Cara felt an affinity and a familiary with the wilderness that surrounded her, remembering the early years of her training as a Mord-Sith. Most took place within the vast boundaries. She knew the Drowning Caves, the hills and valleys and dense forest, the lay of the land a study of warfare once it became apparent she possessed a knack for it.
Dusk began creating creeping shadows as Cara rode on her horse along the small but well traveled main road. It connected the homesteads to the town and to each other. Eyes the shade of the darkening forest keenly took in every detail, watching for a landmark that would lead her to the home she long stopped calling home, though it was never forgotten.
Nothing but the direction felt familiar until Cara came from around a bend of rock outcroppings, a fork in the road and a wooden sign appearing a short ways ahead. The scene rocked her sense of deja vu, that she had turned this corner many times and seen the road split, marked by wood and post. The sign read "EVERARD" and Cara saw the flashes of a young brunette girl in her mind's eyes. Play, and laughter. To veer left, toward the sign, the trail would slowly become private and intimate, opening into a clearing of a house that Cara visited many times in the past. To follow right would lead to another branching in the road with a sign marked "MASON."
She held every intention of taking the right-hand path, to the one place she cradled a small chance of hope. It didn't take her long, but as she advance and grew closer to the sign, the images of Dahlia only became stronger, more intense, clearer. Dahlia as frozen as a deer, wide-eyed and frightened as she was urgently guided into a hidden dugout. Blurry portraits of a familiar woman who might-have-been a Mord-Sith. She could recall running through tall grass and chalk covered fingers. Yellow, on a green dress. A desire to know and see if that little girl still existed whispered temptingly from the depths of her memories.
Still, she kept right.
She heard the noise of something approaching from behind well before she saw the origin moments after she passed the homestead sign. She turned off the road and dismounted a small distance where the dense forestry would keept her mount hidden. The creaking of wheels and clattering of hooves became recognizable while she stealthily snuck back to get a closer look at who was approaching. She could make out a single horse drawing a wagon cart, the driver the only person. Though cloaked, Cara had the feeling the driver was female. Instead of traveling past Cara, the cart journeyed toward Everard and the noise of the wagon and horse faded until it became ambient, sound slowly swallowed by the waking night life.
Though her plan told her to keep heading as she was, the urge to follow the stranger down the other road did not go unnoticed. She couldn't decide whether to trust the suspicious tense hunch in driver's shoulders or whether she was justifying a reason to satisfy a curiosity.
Cara trusted her instincts. After retrieving her horse, she backtracked to venture the other path.
TBC