Invictus: Part III - Wrath and Tears -
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 III: Wrath and Tears
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.
-Invictus
Time was fluid in the underworld. Like the river of green fire that snaked its way through the broken, blackened ground, it twisted and turned, swirling in lazy circles and then rushing forward in an unstoppable torrent.
Richard wasn’t sure how long he had been dead. How long he’d been trapped here, in the pit of the underworld, in Darken Rahl’s place.
It took him years to realize that he could move freely through the hellish realm, just as Darken Rahl could. Or maybe it took him minutes. He could never be sure.
He wondered if Rahl had had as much trouble keeping track of time.
He wondered if he could move around and talk to other spirits because he had gained Rahl’s powers when Rahl switched places with him, or if he would have been able to anyway because of the Mark of the Keeper burned into his chest.
He wondered if he had the power to offer the deal, to make banelings, but he never tried.
At times he felt a heavy presence weighing down on him, unseen eyes making his skin prickle with warning. He thought maybe it was the Keeper, but whoever or whatever it was seemed content to do nothing but watch him, so he did his best to ignore it.
He spent his time instead looking for a way out. He walked the length and breadth of the black pit, found a way across the river of green fire, but eventually he realized the underworld had no end. He wasn’t going to find a trench to climb to freedom.
So he turned to reaching out to the world of the living.
He knew Darken Rahl could appear in dreams. That was how he had branded Richard. He’d seen him appear in fire to speak with Sisters of the Dark.
Richard tried. He meditated like Zedd had taught him, he waved his hands in gestures he’d seen both Darken Rahl and Zedd use, he tried both at once - but nothing worked.
He couldn’t enter Kahlan’s dreams. He couldn’t make himself appear in her fire. He tried going to sleep, thought maybe if he was sleeping too he would dream, and then maybe….
But spirits did not sleep.
He’d all but given up when he was met with success, of a sort. He’d spent eons trying to reach Kahlan, Zedd, Cara… he’d even tried reaching out to Shota, thinking that as a Seer she would be easier to contact.
But it wasn’t until he howled in frustration and thought of his body, the spirit of Darken Rahl, that he found the connection.
In a blink, he was in a dreamscape. It looked like a campsite, much like the ones he’d helped his friends set up hundreds of times.
Only Darken Rahl lay nude, reclined against Kahlan’s naked breasts as she fed him cherries, while Cara knelt between his legs, her face buried in his crotch.
“Rahl,” Richard spat, lips twisting in rage.
He tried to ignore the way Kahlan stroked Rahl’s chest, the moans coming from Cara’s mouth. They weren’t real.
“Richard,” Rahl purred, opening his eyes to fix Richard with an electric stare. The man looked as he always had - lightning blue eyes, sooty hair, and olive skin. “I was wondering how long it would take you to learn to exploit our connection. Is there a reason you’re naked?”
Richard looked down at himself. Like all denizens of the underworld, he wore no clothes. Black sand stuck to his skin in places.
“Perhaps you want to join me?” Rahl continued. “Why else would you blunder into my dreams without so much as a loincloth?” Rahl gestured and Cara got up, walking over to Richard to smirk at him before sliding her hands down his abs, his thighs, and then kneeling before him.
Kahlan took Cara’s place between Rahl’s legs.
“Stop it,” Richard exclaimed through gritted teeth, batting Cara’s hands away.
He couldn’t actually feel her touch, dead as he was, but Rahl’s game disturbed him all the same.
“Jealous, brother?” Rahl wound his fingers into Kahlan’s dark hair, arching his hips up ever so slightly. “Don’t be. You can have her when I’m done.”
Richard didn’t make a conscious decision to move. He just suddenly found his fist connecting with Rahl’s face. Rahl fell back, his hand going to his jaw, and Richard was darkly pleased he could still hurt the man.
Kahlan and Cara faded into mist. Richard kicked Rahl in the gut, his skin red with fury. “Why are you doing this? What’s your plan? Tell me!” He punctuated each demand with another kick.
“I’d be happy to talk,” Rahl wheezed, rolling onto his hands and knees. “You’re the one - ” He stopped, coughing, then started again, “You’re the one being uncivilized.”
Richard crossed his arms, a muscle flexing in his jaw as he grit his teeth.
“Why can I come to your dreams, but not anyone else’s?”
“We’re connected. By fate, by the Keeper, or by the necromancer’s spell - it matters not. Whatever the cause, our spirits are bound together.” Rahl pulled himself to his feet and the dreamscape changed. Suddenly they were in the throne room of the People’s Palace, and Rahl was dressed in his robes, sitting on the tall stone throne.
Richard wasn’t impressed. “Why take over my body? So you can give the Stone of Tears to the Keeper?”
Rahl snorted, and it echoed throughout the marble hall. “Hardly, brother. I intend to find the Stone of Tears and seal the veil. And unlike you, I will succeed.”
He leaned forward, his hair falling across his cheek as he tilted his head. “ ‘Should the Son of Brennidon seek the stone, he will find it and deliver it to the enemy of the light.’ I’m not the Son of Brennidon, am I?” He smirked, a smug expression that made Richard’s blood boil.
“Why?” Richard exploded, flabbergasted.
“Because I am trying to be good.”
The look in Rahl’s eyes sent chills down Richard’s spine.
“You want to be the one to save the world. You want a place in the Halls of Eternal Peace,” Richard said with sudden clarity, feeling as if the revelation had struck him in the top of the head.
“You understand, and more quickly than I thought you would,” Rahl replied with a somber sincerity that did more to put Richard off balance than all the smug smirks in the world.
They stared for what seemed like an eternity, silence stretching between them.
“They’ll realize it’s not me, eventually. You aren’t the Seeker. The compass won’t work.”
Rahl shook his head. “You are a Rahl, brother, whether you like it or not. And as a Rahl, you carry your magic in the blood - even the power of the Seeker. I am the Seeker, because my spirit is in the Seeker’s body. I can read the Book of Counted Shadows. I can wield the Sword of Truth. And I can use the compass. And more than that - your body possesses a han greater even than Zeddicus’. It was lying dormant. Untapped. But no longer. I am the most powerful wizard alive.”
“You’re lying!” Richard’s nails bit into his palms. “You’ve only been in my body for - for….”
Rahl stood, approaching to lay his hand on Richard’s shoulder. His robes trailed behind him, like a river of blood. “You can’t tell how long it’s been. I know. Time is… different, in the underworld.”
His voice was filled with understanding. Almost kindness.
Richard shrugged his hand away.
“How long?” he heard himself ask.
“Months,” was Rahl’s reply. “We retrieved the compass from Denna, and are now making our way across the countryside. There is a scroll Zeddicus has heard of that will tell us what to do with the Stone of Tears, once we have it. And none of them know. Any differences in my - your - demeanor are explained away by the time spent in the underworld during Denna’s little plot.”
Richard closed his eyes, trying to master the storm of feeling inside him, and Rahl leaned forward, whispering in his ear. “Even now, Kahlan sleeps curled into my side.”
It was too much.
“You stole my life!” Richard cried, reaching for Rahl’s throat. He would choke him in his sleep, keep him from waking, from carrying on with this deception.
“You stole mine first!” Rahl retorted, and then he was gone, vanished, the dreamscape melting away.
Leaving Richard standing in the underworld, alone with his wrath.
And his tears.
-l-
Darken woke up with a gasp, then a groan as pain filled his abdomen. Rolling onto his side, he started coughing up blood, the beating Richard gave him in his dreams having as much effect on his body as if it had really transpired.
“Richard?” Kahlan stirred sleepily, her brow knitting in concern when she caught sight of him. “Richard! What happened?”
Then Cara was at his side, probing his ribs with expert fingers, and Darken pressed his lips into a thin white line. “The Keeper,” he ground out as Cara woke Zedd. “The Keeper was torturing me. But Rahl… Rahl saved me.”
“Rahl?” Kahlan repeated as she moved to sit behind Darken, pulling him back against her chest so he could lean against her.
“I know it’s hard to believe,” Darken said in Richard’s earnest way, wincing as he propped himself up against Kahlan. “But Rahl protected me. He doesn’t want to work for the Keeper anymore.”
It couldn’t hurt, to make the Merry Band think of him as something other than an enemy. Just in case.
And it wasn’t as if Darken could tell the truth about who haunted his dreams.
Cara snorted, but Darken ignored her, choosing instead to focus on the feeling of Kahlan’s hands on his skin as she smoothed his shoulder length hair away from his forehead. He didn’t tie it back when he was sleeping, and it had gotten tangled during his nightmare.
Mumbling to himself, Zedd laid his hands on Darken’s stomach, long fingers glowing white with healing magic.
Darken’s breathing got easier.
“There now, my boy, good as new,” the old wizard smiled.
Darken returned the smile, “Thanks, Zedd.”
It was what Richard would do. And besides, once he had discovered the power slumbering in this body, the wizard had been more than helpful in instructing him in the finer points of controlling his magic. Darken had come to regard him with the same sort of fondness he felt for his faithful companion, Egremont.
Getting to his feet, Darken stroked his mustache, then rested one hand on the pommel of the Sword of Truth and with the other gripped the hilt of the dagger he had begun carrying as soon as he found one that suited him. “I’ll take next watch. I won’t be able to get back to sleep.”
Cara simply nodded and went back to her bedroll, as Darken knew she would. She hadn’t changed much since the days when she first began serving him. Efficient and to the point, that was his Cara.
Perhaps if Kahlan continued to rebuff his advances, he would arrange for the Confessor to find him fucking Cara in the woods. He saw the way she watched him. Cara might claim that she followed Richard because he was the true Lord Rahl, but it was more than that.
With Cara, it was always more than that.
She was Mord’Sith, and proud. She wouldn’t bow to a man she didn’t hold some regard for, Lord Rahl or not. Darken had a feeling all he need do was beckon, and Cara would be his.
Or rather, Richard’s.
And knowing that he had ruined Richard and Kahlan’s great romance would be almost as sweet as succeeding where Richard failed.
Then fingers were in his hair, and Darken jerked, startled out of his musings.
It was Kahlan. She smiled at him softly. “I’ll put it up for you,” she murmured as Zedd began to snore once more.
Darken nodded and sat in front of her, letting his eyes sink closed as she ran her fingers along his scalp, gently working out the tangles before pulling his hair back into a horsetail and securing it with a leather thong. He was more used to her little touches now, after months of traveling together.
But they were still maddening. He understood now why Richard had dreamt so often of sex.
Used to having a bevy of concubines and Mord’Sith all willing to please him, Kahlan’s stubborn refusal to risk confessing him no matter his assurances left Darken with aching loins and in an ill humor. Until he could prove to Kahlan beyond a doubt that she was unable to confess him, he was doomed to have her push him away just as things were getting interesting, only to pick himself up and go off in search of a brothel, or at least an awestruck farmer’s daughter willing to do anything for the Seeker.
He’d considered tying her down and running hands and tongue over her until she came undone, her hold on her power evaporating in the moment her pleasure crested, but he refrained. There was no victory to be had there, over Richard or Kahlan.
Darken Rahl didn’t want to conquer Kahlan Amnell.
He wanted her to surrender herself to him.
-l-
Richard avoided Rahl’s dreams for some time after their first encounter. He wasn’t sure what he could do, what the point of talking to Rahl was.
He didn’t like who he became when he and Rahl were face to face.
So he was surprised when a new spirit entered the underworld and cowered away from him first in fear, and then despair.
“No! No! If you’re here, then who…? It’s him, it has to be him. My poor, misguided son…” the old man moaned, writhing on the sand.
“What are you talking about?” Richard asked gently, helping the man to his feet. Sometimes, when spirits first arrived, they were confused, frightened. Richard did his best to help.
It kept him from going mad.
“My boy, oh my boy,” the man cupped Richard’s cheeks. “I’m your father. Panis Rahl.” He started to weep.
“You were with Rahl?” Richard asked, pulling Panis Rahl’s arm over his shoulders to keep the man upright.
“He killed me,” Panis whispered, tears running down his cheeks. “He tortured me with an Agiel until I told him where to find the scroll, and then he killed me. But before I died, he said he forgave me, and asked me to forgive him. I didn’t understand, but if you’re here, then that means he’s - ”
Richard frowned, his gut twisting in knots as he thought of the damage Rahl could do, of how he could hurt Kahlan, and Zedd, and Cara, before they even realized anything was wrong.
“I thought, I thought you were as bad as him, that both my sons were twisted.”
Thinking of the rage that overtook him whenever Rahl was within his sight, Richard wasn’t so certain that they weren’t.
-l-
Darken’s opportunity to prove his immunity to Kahlan came just after they left the Forest of the Night Wisps. Attacks from those who served the Keeper were becoming more and more frequent as they neared the hiding place of the Stone of Tears, especially now that they knew how to use the stone.
A Sister of the Dark got the drop on Kahlan, quite literally. She flung herself from the low hanging branches of a tree, plunging her dacra into the Confessor’s back.
And ripping away Kahlan’s power of confession.
Seeing his chance, Darken engaged the Sister, purposefully leaving holes in his defense until she took advantage of one, grasping him by the throat.
“Richard!” came Kahlan’s agonized cry. Zedd’s voice joined hers in a vehement denial.
The Sister’s eyes swirled black.
And Darken smiled, cutting her down with the Sword of Truth. With her death, Kahlan’s power of confession was returned to her.
The rest of their attackers were easily dealt with. As soon as their companions were clear, Darken and Zedd caught the remaining Sisters in a cross of Wizard’s Fire.
With his war wizard han, Darken was capable of much more. But he was careful to hide the extent of his abilities. He didn’t want to appear to be learning too quickly. After all, Richard hadn’t grown up with tutors in the arcane arts.
At last all was silent, save for the sounds of them catching their breath.
“You weren’t confessed,” Kahlan clasped his hands, looking up at him as if she didn’t quite believe he was real.
“I told you, Kahlan,” Darken replied, feeling triumph pound through his veins. “You can’t hurt me.”
-l-
They spent that night away from Cara and Zedd, in a stand of trees lit by moonlight. Kahlan’s hair contrasted beautifully with her pearly white skin, her cheeks rosy, and eyes bright. Darken worshipped her, doing everything he had ever seen Richard dream about, treating her with tenderness, flush with his victory.
The first two times were all soft sighs and sweet surrenders, and murmured words of affection. The third was harsher, animalistic, as Darken did things to Kahlan that Richard would never even conceive of.
She liked it.
She liked it, and Darken smiled, only to frown when she called Richard’s name.
But he was Richard now, after all.
He was Richard now.
Still, he wanted to slap her, wanted to hear ‘Darken’ on her lips. It was obscene, somehow, to forsake his name, when for so long it was all he had.
Rahl. Darken Rahl.
Who spilled the blood of thousands.
Rahl, Darken Rahl, of the house of ill fame.
Rahl, Darken Rahl, the unwanted first son.
Rahl, Darken Rahl, who died in dark flames.
But he was Richard now. Darken Rahl was dead.
And he was trying to be good.
Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | End Notes