Invictus: Part II - Bloody, but Unbowed -

[pristineungift]

Title: Invictus
Author: pristineungift
Beta: meridian_rose - Thank you for the absolutely fabulous job you did!
Rating: Hard R
Warnings:[Spoiler (click to open)]Graphic Depictions of Violence; Sexuality; Dub-Con (Consent by Fraud); Disturbing Psychological Themes; Mentioned Incest; Voyeurism.
Characters/Pairings: Darken/Kahlan, Darken/Cara, Richard/Kahlan, Richard/Cara, Richard/Darken, Cara/Darken/Kahlan, Zedd, The Keeper, Panis Rahl, Jennsen, Denna.
Prompt/Summary: Written for dark_fest prompt “Legend of the Seeker - In 2x07 Darken's spirit is put in Richard's body at the end of the episode instead of Richard's.” A tale of two brothers with unconquerable spirits. A tale of heroes and villains. A tale of trying to be good.
Note: See the end notes for literary references. In Part II I don’t take the time to really explain the plot of 2x07. You may be confused if you aren’t familiar with it. Also, thanks to angstbunny and evilgmbethy, who have heavily influenced certain elements of this story through fic and discussion.



Part II: Bloody, but Unbowed

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

-Invictus

Darken should have known Denna was involved when he first felt the necromancer’s magic. He was the one who trained her, who broke her, after all. He had molded, and pushed, caressed, and beat her into the woman she was today, breaking her and shaping her in his own image.

Just as he had been shaped when he was younger, softer, and eager to do anything to prove himself.

When he first heard Denna’s plan from the spirits of those she killed to carry it out, Darken was impressed. He hid behind fury, for the Keeper was watching, but he was impressed. Denna was always so clever. So like him. In the end, that more than anything was why he had cast her aside in favor of Cara.

Denna had learned the lessons Darken had to teach all too well, and become more like him than any other he had ever known, living or dead.

As much as he loved her, he also despised her.

But thanks to her, he had before him a unique opportunity. Richard was dead, his spirit in the underworld. That poor, easily broken excuse for a soldier Denna had trained wore the Seeker’s skin.

But that would end, soon enough. A nudge in the right direction, and Richard’s Merry Band was off to save him. They would kill the imposter who masqueraded as the Seeker turned Lord Rahl, and then summon Richard’s spirit back to them with the necromancer’s last potion. Cara would perform the breath of life, and all would be right in the world.

All Darken had to do was wait.

And so wait he did, passing the time by showing Richard all the courtesy his brother had bestowed upon him. Over and over, Darken covered Richard’s skin with green fire, forcing him through the death Darken had suffered and more.

The existence he had faced in the underworld.

Richard had been blessed with everything that was supposed to be Darken’s. Their father’s love, a great destiny, the adoration of the people. And had he earned any of it?

Panis Rahl had never so much as set eyes on Richard, and yet he loved him more than Darken and Jennsen both. Jennsen’s name never even passed their father’s lips. She was worthless to him because of her gender, because of her ungiftedness. She should be angrier than Darken, hate Richard more, and yet she did not, and Darken couldn’t understand why.

And destiny was a thing unearned, unasked for, and often unfair. Darken was born beneath a red star, and so his whole life had been a struggle to stand in the light, to stay alive. He was cast as the villain of his tale before he even took a breath.

Richard was born a hero, covered in gold and honey. His was a fate of legendary good, hard work, and seemingly every woman he ever met falling in love with him.

Undeserved destinies, both of them.

Why was one brother the champion, and the other the scoundrel? Was it some capricious whim of the Creator’s, that decided which would be which?

So Darken tortured Richard, giving him a small taste of what it was to be the disfavored figure of fate, destined to lose.

And then the summons came - the spell that would pull Richard’s spirit back to his body, and Darken smiled. He was expecting it.

All he had to do was grab hold, and the golden life of legend and love would be his.

“Goodbye, brother,” he said softly to Richard, who stood bloody, but unbowed, despite all Darken had put him through.

Then he was whisked away by the necromancer’s spell. The next thing he knew, he was sitting up with a gasp, his eyes snapping open. His chest was on fire.

“Richard!” Kahlan gasped, cupping his cheeks, tears in her eyes.

Leaning forward, Darken kissed her, and was surprised by the sweetness with which it was returned.

Kahlan threw herself half on top of him, and he hugged her to his chest, looking over her shoulder to see Cara watching him, stony faced.

“Cara.” He met her eyes, slightly unnerved when his voice came out not as his usual throaty purr, but in Richard’s smooth tenor. “Thank you.”

He smiled a thin razor smile, and she gave him an odd look. Realizing his mistake, Darken widened the smile until he felt ridiculous, until his cheeks hurt.

Cara nodded to him.

-l-
The first thing they had to do was settle Kahlan’s sister, reanimated in Lucinda’s body, into her new home. Darken was made to hold Lucinda’s baby while Kahlan and Dennee spoke with the woman’s mother. Fairly certain that Richard had ample experience with children based on his dreams, Darken did his best to look as if he was both happy and competent.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Cara snapped, making Darken lift one eyebrow in question. “I see you staring at the baby, and then glancing at me. No. I will not hold him. I don’t like him. Holding him will not make me like him. I don’t think he’s cute. In fact, he smells bad.”

Darken’s lips twitched.

But before he could retort, Kahlan and Dennee were back, and Dennee took the child from him, goodbyes were said, and they were back on their quest. It seemed Denna had stolen the compass that would lead the Seeker to the Stone of Tears, and they had to retrieve it.

-l-
It was dusk before Darken was able to get a moment to himself. He struggled to hide his increasingly foul temper, used as he was to being able to command solitude when he desired it.

But that was not what Richard would do, and it was vital that Darken make all of them believe he was Richard. He had no desire to be returned to the black pit of hell.

So he made himself smile, carefully spoke without the accent of a D’Haran noble, and occasionally held Kahlan’s hand.

The last part, he did not mind so much.

There were three things he had missed more than all else while rotting in the underworld. The first was sunlight on his skin. The second was the taste of food on his tongue, the feeling of having his hunger sated.

And the third was the press of a woman’s flesh against his own.

Every time he touched Kahlan’s hand, his body surged with lust, a feverish desire that seemed partly Darken’s own and partly as if this body remembered that it was supposed to love Kahlan.

He grew hot, and hard, and the way his breeches constrained and pinched made him long for the red brocade and velvet of his robes, which had always allowed room for things to… breathe.

After so much time being unable to feel, he could hardly keep his thoughts from fantasies of pushing Kahlan against the nearest tree, hiking up those deliciously slit skirts, and plunging into her. Or perhaps he would bend Cara over that fallen log there, and thrust until she couldn’t speak. He didn’t truly care which of them he had, so long as he had one of them, and soon.

He supposed it would have to be Kahlan, if he was to keep everyone thinking he was Richard. Pity. Cara had certain skills he was certain the Confessor lacked.

If only his brother wasn’t so faithful.

When they finally stopped to make camp, Darken excused himself, saying he was going to wash in the river. It was true enough. He was covered in sweat, there was dirt beneath his nails, and he was rather afraid of what sort of smell would greet him when he took off his boots.

It was odd, seeing Richard’s face when he studied his reflection in the water. He would get used to it, he knew, but the sight of it now still evoked a visceral reaction.

Envy.

Hatred.

Betrayal.

Those were the things he associated with this face.

There was stubble on his cheeks. Darken decided not to shave. He would look less boyish with a goatee. Longer hair would perhaps also help. He would grow it out and wear it tied back with a leather strap.

His shoulders were not as broad as he was used to. Truthfully, everything about him was a little slimmer. He was just as strong, if not stronger, and he felt more flexible. This body was younger, slightly taller. He did not have quite so many old injuries. He felt almost coltish, as if he were back in his early days of being Lord Rahl, not yet possessed of the gravitas and grace of a king.

Disrobing, he stepped into the river, running his fingertips over his body. Richard had a puckered scar on his abdomen, likely from an Agiel. Darken had a similar one on his thigh.

Except no, he didn’t. This was his body now. His Agiel scar was on his abdomen, and it wasn’t from sexual play unless Richard had taken to sneaking into the woods with one of Cara’s Agiels to pleasure himself.

Darken supposed it was possible. The boy was a Rahl, after all.

He washed his clothes on the bank of the river, and then turned his attention to himself, determined that Richard Rahl was going to be a much better groomed bastard prince from this point forward.

Then he gave into temptation, and let his hands drift between his legs as he thought of conquests past.

-l-
That night, he presented himself to Kahlan.

He waited until it was her turn to keep watch, and went to sit beside her.

“You should be sleeping,” she chided him, though gently. “After everything, after - ”

“After dying?” he finished her sentence, reaching out to stroke her hand. “When I was down there, in the pit,” he began, an all too real catch in his voice, “there were a great many things I wished I had done. Sleeping wasn’t one of them.”

“Richard,” Kahlan frowned, pulling her hand away.

But Darken would not let her. He caught her wrist, dragging her back towards him, making her face him.

“You don’t understand,” he whispered harshly. “Time there, in the underworld… it isn’t like time here. I was gone… how long was I gone? It doesn’t matter. I was there for years. Centuries. Kahlan, I burned for centuries.”

He didn’t have to feign the brightness of unshed tears in his eyes.

He kissed her, and this time it was not sweet. It was demanding, and savage, and desperate. Kahlan put her hands on his chest, pushing him away, her breath coming in pants.

“This can’t be, Richard, I won’t risk - ”

“You won’t hurt me Kahlan. You could never hurt me,” Darken smiled and cupped Kahlan’s cheeks just as he had watched Richard do in his dreams.

Kahlan whimpered, and then they were kissing again, and Darken pulled her into his lap, straddling him, the hard length of his arousal pressing up into the warm place between her thighs, and he broke the kiss, bending to press his face into her breasts, and they were so soft and he couldn’t wait, couldn’t wait to get her out of that corset, and why didn’t Richard carry a dagger? The Sword of Truth was too long to be useful -

Kahlan bolted out of his lap, knocking him over backwards in the process.

He didn’t sit up until he was certain that he was no longer scowling, his impatience with this whole courting dance carefully hidden.

Kahlan stood across the campsite, her back to him. Her shoulders heaved, but he couldn’t tell if it was from arousal or sorrow.

He supposed he should go to her. It was what Richard would do.

And so he went, though he would have preferred to simply proposition Cara.

Laying a hand on Kahlan’s shoulder, he cloaked himself in sentiment, speaking softly, “I’m sorry, Kahlan. It’s just… being down there. Things happened to me. If you hadn’t brought me back, if we had never gotten a chance… Kahlan, please. Look at me.”

She turned, and Darken saw that tears ran down her face. It was strange and new, to see someone weep for him.

But then, her tears were not really for him.

“We almost lost you today. I can’t lose you a second time!” she exclaimed, loud enough to wake the others.

Darken glanced at their sleeping companions, but all was still.

“You won’t confess me, Kahlan,” Darken answered with absolute certainty, knowing his spirit was immune to confession, thanks to Giller’s potion. “Read it in my face. You won’t confess me.”

It was no longer just about sex. If sex was all he wanted, he would simply slip away in the night and find a willing lass. No, this was about having something that Richard hadn’t, that he couldn’t have, that he would never have.

He didn’t know why it was important, only that it was.

Kahlan pierced him with her blue eyes, and it was funny to Darken to think that his eyes were no longer Rahl blue.

Her mouth dropped open in shock.

“What is it, Kahlan?” he asked, hoping that she had seen what she needed, that now she would give in and let him do things to her Richard had never done, and she would start to love him in ways that she had never loved Richard.

“I can’t read you,” she said in clipped tones layered in disbelief.

The silence went on a beat too long.

“I told you, Kahlan. Things happened to me down there,” was all he said in the end.

After all, trying too hard to explain would only make him look like he had something to hide.

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | End Notes