FIC: Family [Legend of the Seeker]
Title: Family
Fandom: Legend of the Seeker
Disclaimer: Purely a piece of fanwork for fun, not profit.
Rating: PG, violence
Summary: Jennsen couldn't break up the Boxes in time. AU from "Bloodline".
Notes: Written for the final round of Last Author Standing, for THE MOST EVIL PROMPT IN EXISTENCE. Placed 1st, and the bragging rights as Last Author Standing. :D
Your grandfather is the first to fall to his knees and beseech your forgiveness. Not just for his initial resistance to your rule, but for everything: concealing the truth of your heritage, creating the lie of your unremarkable existence in Westland. You don't regret taking on the mantle of the Seeker, but you still remember the sticky hot blood of your father on your hands. It was Ranssyn Fane who slew your father, but your grandfather had the ultimate hand in all the events that preceded and followed. You don't blame him now; you are magnanimous. But an apology is soothing to your ears.
After him, it is your brother. Oh, what a revelation that is. The evil tyrant you are destined to kill shares the same sire as you. Blood does not make a family, and it seems you simply have rotten luck where brothers are concerned, but Michael was contrite in the end. Rahl, too, is contrite now. You lost your second chance with Michael. You will not let that happen again. Compassion, after all, is complement to just rule, and so you spare your brother. He can be trusted now, and he would be ever so useful.
"Would you do something for me now?" you ask your brother who kneels so obediently before you.
"I'd do anything for you," he answers with heartfelt sincerity.
You smile.
This leaves only your sister out in the cold. She is the most dangerous one. She is ultimately easy to track down, but bringing her in, metaphorically, will be tricky.
You have no desire to be unkind. It is not in your nature. Your heart breaks when your men return with her and you see how her hands are bound. When you untie them, she fights, furious claws and kicks, a few of which actually catch you in the face and in the shin. But you forgive her.
"I'll scream!" Her eyes flit to the grandfather you both share, to Kahlan, who stands by your side. They do nothing. Jennsen cries.
"I love you. You know I love you." The words are no consolation to her.
So you consign her to the dungeons, where the cold and loneliness might make her more amenable to your generosity. In the meantime, you concern yourself with matters of peace. One by one, kings and queens, dukes and duchesses, they all bow at your feet, pledging their undying allegiance. There is no more D'Hara, no more Midlands. There is only you.
You, and Kahlan. Of course there is always Kahlan, who is now your Queen. With absolute peace, there is no more need for Confessors. With no need for Confessors, there is no need for her powers. A Rada'Han takes care of that problem, and she can love you fully, without restrictions, without fear.
You have your grandfather, your brother, and your wife. But still the picture is incomplete.
Jennsen shivers when she stands before you again, but she does not cower.
"We can have the whole world," you tell her.
"No, we can't," she whispers through cracked lips.
"And we could have all this," you insist. "It’s ours."
But Jennsen can't be bribed and won't be cajoled. Like you, she has lived a simple life. Power and wealth do not sway her. You appeal to her heart instead, to the family she is missing out on. The grandfather whose wisdom she will not hear. The other brother she did not even know existed. You lay a hand on Kahlan's belly, still flat but soon to be swollen with child, a niece for Jennsen to dote on.
Jennsen stares. "And you think then we'll be all right and be happy."
You did not think your sister is capable of such venom. Surely there must be some way you can reach her, yet she stands firm in her resolve to reject you. To cast Jennsen back into the dungeon is not an option.
She is, after all, your sister.
Extreme measures become ever increasingly appealing, but you cannot order Jennsen to love you, your wife cannot Confess her into compliance, and your grandfather cannot spell her into reconciliation.
The solution comes from your brother: if she would not yield of her own free will, then the only option left is for her to submit.
The Mord'Sith knows all about how to make one submit.
You are there when Cara -- one of your brother's most trusted and capable Mord'Siths -- strings your sister up. You care not for the look Jennsen gives you, but you know this is for the best.
"We’ll be fine afterwards. Just like we were before," you tell her, but she doesn't look convinced.
The agiels, of course, don't work on your sister. A touch from one would not bring pain, but being hit by one certainly does. You could leave Cara to her work, but you don't walk away. You watch every minute of it. Your sister deserves that much dedication from you. You will hear every cry; her sacrifice will not go unwitnessed.
She is delirious for days afterwards, her memories hazy and vague. You personally nurse her back to health, filled in the gaps of her recall wherever you can.
There was once a tyrant, you tell your sister, but with her help, you both defeated the evil together, and now the world is a better, brighter, happier place. A peaceful place. The tales frighten her, but she is comforted by your embrace. Slowly, she recovers until one day, she declares that she needs your tender care no longer.
"Do you feel better?" you ask.
Smiling, your sister answers, "I feel fine."
Together, with her hand in yours, you lead her into the banquet hall. You sit at the head of the table, surrounded by your wife, your grandfather, your brother, and your sister. This is your family, whole and complete. You could not be happier.
*
Fandom: Legend of the Seeker
Disclaimer: Purely a piece of fanwork for fun, not profit.
Rating: PG, violence
Summary: Jennsen couldn't break up the Boxes in time. AU from "Bloodline".
Notes: Written for the final round of Last Author Standing, for THE MOST EVIL PROMPT IN EXISTENCE. Placed 1st, and the bragging rights as Last Author Standing. :D
Your grandfather is the first to fall to his knees and beseech your forgiveness. Not just for his initial resistance to your rule, but for everything: concealing the truth of your heritage, creating the lie of your unremarkable existence in Westland. You don't regret taking on the mantle of the Seeker, but you still remember the sticky hot blood of your father on your hands. It was Ranssyn Fane who slew your father, but your grandfather had the ultimate hand in all the events that preceded and followed. You don't blame him now; you are magnanimous. But an apology is soothing to your ears.
After him, it is your brother. Oh, what a revelation that is. The evil tyrant you are destined to kill shares the same sire as you. Blood does not make a family, and it seems you simply have rotten luck where brothers are concerned, but Michael was contrite in the end. Rahl, too, is contrite now. You lost your second chance with Michael. You will not let that happen again. Compassion, after all, is complement to just rule, and so you spare your brother. He can be trusted now, and he would be ever so useful.
"Would you do something for me now?" you ask your brother who kneels so obediently before you.
"I'd do anything for you," he answers with heartfelt sincerity.
You smile.
This leaves only your sister out in the cold. She is the most dangerous one. She is ultimately easy to track down, but bringing her in, metaphorically, will be tricky.
You have no desire to be unkind. It is not in your nature. Your heart breaks when your men return with her and you see how her hands are bound. When you untie them, she fights, furious claws and kicks, a few of which actually catch you in the face and in the shin. But you forgive her.
"I'll scream!" Her eyes flit to the grandfather you both share, to Kahlan, who stands by your side. They do nothing. Jennsen cries.
"I love you. You know I love you." The words are no consolation to her.
So you consign her to the dungeons, where the cold and loneliness might make her more amenable to your generosity. In the meantime, you concern yourself with matters of peace. One by one, kings and queens, dukes and duchesses, they all bow at your feet, pledging their undying allegiance. There is no more D'Hara, no more Midlands. There is only you.
You, and Kahlan. Of course there is always Kahlan, who is now your Queen. With absolute peace, there is no more need for Confessors. With no need for Confessors, there is no need for her powers. A Rada'Han takes care of that problem, and she can love you fully, without restrictions, without fear.
You have your grandfather, your brother, and your wife. But still the picture is incomplete.
Jennsen shivers when she stands before you again, but she does not cower.
"We can have the whole world," you tell her.
"No, we can't," she whispers through cracked lips.
"And we could have all this," you insist. "It’s ours."
But Jennsen can't be bribed and won't be cajoled. Like you, she has lived a simple life. Power and wealth do not sway her. You appeal to her heart instead, to the family she is missing out on. The grandfather whose wisdom she will not hear. The other brother she did not even know existed. You lay a hand on Kahlan's belly, still flat but soon to be swollen with child, a niece for Jennsen to dote on.
Jennsen stares. "And you think then we'll be all right and be happy."
You did not think your sister is capable of such venom. Surely there must be some way you can reach her, yet she stands firm in her resolve to reject you. To cast Jennsen back into the dungeon is not an option.
She is, after all, your sister.
Extreme measures become ever increasingly appealing, but you cannot order Jennsen to love you, your wife cannot Confess her into compliance, and your grandfather cannot spell her into reconciliation.
The solution comes from your brother: if she would not yield of her own free will, then the only option left is for her to submit.
The Mord'Sith knows all about how to make one submit.
You are there when Cara -- one of your brother's most trusted and capable Mord'Siths -- strings your sister up. You care not for the look Jennsen gives you, but you know this is for the best.
"We’ll be fine afterwards. Just like we were before," you tell her, but she doesn't look convinced.
The agiels, of course, don't work on your sister. A touch from one would not bring pain, but being hit by one certainly does. You could leave Cara to her work, but you don't walk away. You watch every minute of it. Your sister deserves that much dedication from you. You will hear every cry; her sacrifice will not go unwitnessed.
She is delirious for days afterwards, her memories hazy and vague. You personally nurse her back to health, filled in the gaps of her recall wherever you can.
There was once a tyrant, you tell your sister, but with her help, you both defeated the evil together, and now the world is a better, brighter, happier place. A peaceful place. The tales frighten her, but she is comforted by your embrace. Slowly, she recovers until one day, she declares that she needs your tender care no longer.
"Do you feel better?" you ask.
Smiling, your sister answers, "I feel fine."
Together, with her hand in yours, you lead her into the banquet hall. You sit at the head of the table, surrounded by your wife, your grandfather, your brother, and your sister. This is your family, whole and complete. You could not be happier.
*