Broken Hearts - drabble prompt.
For melt_in2_me
There are still seven open spots! laurelindorenae.livejournal.com/11150.html
Pairing: KahlanxRahl (this is going to be very AU)
Inspiration:
How Do I Live - Leann Rimes (this is funny cause this was the first song that came on as I started working on the word document to type this up)
Never Too Late - Hedley
Broken Hearts
How had it ever come to this? Seven years of marriage seemed to fade into nothingness. She could remember the day her father had told her she had been sold into a rich and powerful marriage. She had been seven years old. At the time it had made no difference to her. She knew it wouldn’t take place until she was sixteen years old. But quickly those nine years passed. The garrison had come to meet her in Thandore. They escorted the young woman out of the Hidden Valley and through the Midlands. After a month of slow marching (with the young Confessor riding upon a brilliant white horse) they had reached their destination. The Peoples Palace. The very heart of D’Hara. But this was while the alliance between Aydindril and D’Hara was still strong. Still pure.
She could remember that day fully. How beautiful the ceremony had been. How her gown glowed, and the handsome face of her groom.
Before that day, Kahlan Amnell had never once laid eyes upon the King of the Eastern territory. But she remembered now the way he looked. He was gorgeous. Kahlan had been expecting the King’s hair to be golden, like that of his father (or so she had heard), and she expected him to show all his years. He was after all twenty-seven years her senior. Yet the man she saw before her was no more than a day over thirty. And that seemed to be pushing the envelope to her. When she was lead up the aisle to the exterior altar, in one of the many grand courtyards and gardens, she gazed in amazement towards the man that was already waiting at the head with the priest for her.
Darken Rahl. He stood a vision of youth. His long dark hair laying in soft curls. Dancing about his shoulders. The very top was twisted lightly and pulled back behind his head. There it was held by a small silver plate and stick clasp. It shone in the glowing golden afternoon sunlight. He wore three layers of white. The very top layer, the outer sleeveless robes, were white velvet and embroidered with fine silver thread; the deep collar which reached his navel, was embroidered with tiny sparkling diamonds. They cast jewel fire in the soft light of the sun. Attached to the sleeveless white velvet vest, were small cap sleeves. Just enough to stick out and away from the shoulders. Their core was thick black leather, for support, while they layers of silver silk stitched over it. The silver silk was beaded with the same diamonds as the collar. From these short caps hung lightweight white silk sleeve panels. Behind his arms, they hung like a split cloak, and were left to flutter in even the lightest of all breezes. The light material danced as though celebrating the day. The second layer was the under robes of medium weight white silk. The collar was less deep, but still fell down to just below his tanned breast. The hems of the skirts were embroidered in tiny silver flowers. The sleeves were three quarter, and belled. Attached only under the arm, so the tops draped down and exposed his chiselled deltoids. This belled sleeves were hemmed in the same tiny silver flowers as the hem of the underskirts. The third layer was a set of shimmering white, silk organza, arm warmer-styled sleeves. They were separate pieces, pulled on like gloves, and worn under the belled sleeves. The thin silk organza allowed his sun kissed flesh to be seen beneath it. The points of the sleeves attached to silver rings. One worn on each of his middle fingers. Holding the sleeves in place. Like the collar of his outer robe, these sleeves were embroidered in silver leaves and flowers, and offset with small sparkling diamonds. Three narrow black leather belts held his robes close to him. One lay above his hip, one over his hip, and one just below. They traveled towards his crotch, where the belts merged together. Just below, at mid thigh they were held together by an ornate silver buckle; a crescent moon and a star. The symbol of the Kingdom. Over these belts he wore one more. A thick black belt worn around his hips, to keep the others in place. It locked together with a round, interlocking, gold buckle.
In the shimmering sunshine he was a vision.
And Kahlan’s fears had melted away when she stood before him. Her hand in his. His smile was bewitching. She barely remembered her vows. But the ceremony had been beautiful. Of that she was certain.
That night she had worn the rada’han, of course. Though her husband had seemed wary to lock her into it. She hated how heavy it was, but for her he had transformed it. A beautiful and lightweight silver choker with a ruby in the center. She knew she could never use her magic again, but if it meant she wouldn’t hurt the husband she found herself drawn to, than it was worth it.
It had taken her two years. Two years of trying and praying. But finally she was pregnant with her husband’s child. And in that time she had never felt more loved. The glow she radiated matched only the one she received from her husband. Though, he had always been good with her. She knew he was someone else with her. She knew he was not this good with the Kingdom. And, as a Confessor she should have cared. But, locked in her beautiful collar, she was no longer a Confessor. She was impervious to what the others would have wanted of her. She was happy here in the Palace with her husband. The husband that rubbed her belly every time the baby strained her. Every time she was brought pain. All she needed to do was gasp and he was at her side. Kneeling before her and rubbing the roundness of her tummy. And his hand was deliciously warm. It comforted her, and calmed their unborn child. Their baby already knew the touch of its loving father. It pleased her down to her very core. Rahl was going to be a very good parent.
But the day the child arrived is what started the destruction. Rahl had hoped for a baby boy. Had prayed to the spirits, the Creator, and the Keeper for a boy. For an heir to take the throne when he eventually died. Instead the Confessor birthed a baby girl. It had disappointed Darken Rahl deeply. But, the baby girl he loved. He would never deny her, but she would never rule. Only a gifted male child could rule. But she could be the Confessor to the Kingdom when she was grown. They named her Temira. Tall and slender. After her mother, and after her mother’s name: Kahlan.
There was no denying it. Temira was her Daddy’s little angel. He doted upon her at every turn. And yet, despite the spoiling she received, she was a sweet little girl. Her mother’s guidance assured that. But while Darken doted upon the child, he neglected the mother. He still appeared to care for her, but it was happening slowly. He turned now only to the Mord’Sith for his pleasure. Kahlan was left as nothing more than the pretty little trophy upon the shelf. The mother of his daughter. And Kahlan knew he was trying to have a boy with at least one of the Mord’Sith. It hurt her down to her core.
But it had been four years now. And Kahlan saw her husband cavorting with the Mord‘Sith openly. He kept them in his presence (and she knew the difference between using them for war and what he was) at all times. The only time he was without them was when he was asleep in bed with her. And even then he came to their chambers late into the night. Temira was four years of age, and very much loved by both parents. But as a Confessor she would never be whole. She didn’t witness love between her parents. There were kind looks and gentle words. But there wasn’t love. At least not from father to mother. Mother loved father more than she cared to admit. Temira would never understand the bond of a woman and man in love if she did not witness it with her parents. Unlike most children, she never saw a kiss between the King and his Queen. She never saw a hug, or witnessed the playfulness that came with affection.
Kahlan sat in the royal bed chambers. Though she slept by her husband every night, the foot between them upon the mattress felt like a hundred miles. They always slept with their backs to one another. The Confessor now sat before her mirrored vanity. Combing her long dark curls out. Slowly to keep them soft and whole. In the mirror behind her she could see Rahl enter the room. She didn’t move to acknowledge him. It was today she was going to start treating him as he had been treating her. Even if it hurt her.
Rahl was smiling, half laughing. He had just put Temira to bed in the nursery. The room that adjoined to their own. She was so unbelievably cute it always caught him off guard. He wondered what he had done to deserve such a beautiful little creature in his life. He sighed happily as he sat on the bed behind her, watching her. “Oh Kahlan… your daughter is beautiful.”
Kahlan didn’t move. She just continued to brush out her hair.
Rahl raised a brow a little, but shrugged it off. He stood up once more and walked to her. Taking the comb from her hand and standing behind her. Gathering her silky tresses in his hand as he carefully ran the abalone comb through them. Brushing her hair for her as he had not in years.
Again, Kahlan didn’t move. Did not thank him.
His good mood was starting to wear off. And quickly. She didn’t have to be so rude to him. A simple “that’s nice” would have sufficed. Well, probably not, but at least it would have been words. Even the dying man gurgled his respect to Father Rahl. “You know, you could at least say thank you!”
Kahlan looked down at her nails easily. Examining their feminine length.
He had had enough. He threw her hair down; the pretty little comb shattered upon impact with the marble floor. “Speak to me!”
The dark beauty merely stood up and brushed her night gown off and turned her back towards him as she started towards their bed. Taking the left side as she always had.
Rahl stalked around her; his strides long and powerful. He rounded her angrily and grabbed her shoulder tightly. He meant to threaten her into speaking to him. But her hand shot out. She might not have been able to confess him, but she could still grab his throat. He jolted a little, surprised. Kahlan pushed him back as hard as she could, it knocked him back till his legs were against the edge of the bed. He glared back at her.
The stare lasted for many intense moments. Both willing themselves to win the battle of wills. He had to dominate. She had to prevail. He would not let his wife control him. She wouldn’t be subjected to his humiliating behaviour any more.
But something strange happened as they stared at each other. Both into the turbulent eyes of the other. And it snapped. Each seeing what they had grown to love about the other. Despite the bitter, cold, war between them.
They lunged at the same time. Kahlan grabbed the side of his jaw gently, as Darken put his hand firmly upon the back of her neck; cradling the base of her skull. They pulled each other’s face close at the same moment. Locking lips in a feverish kiss. Darken pulled her up against himself and willed her choker to return to a rada’han. The suddenly weight caught Kahlan off guard, but she opened her eyes for only a split second. Quickly consumed by his kiss once again. Rahl willed the collar to open, and once it sprang apart he removed it, tossing it to the floor.
Kahlan was shocked, but she had a feeling of what he was trying to say. He loved her enough to not be confessed. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to believe that, but she wouldn’t argue the matter as she pressed close and pushed him back to their bed.
Broken hearts healed in one gaze and one kiss. And the fate of a young Confessor child corrected.
So they didn’t have a son. There was always a chance. Or he could always changed the traditions of D’Hara. He could say a woman could rule.
And Kahlan would no longer have to feel left out of her husband’s heart.
There are still seven open spots! laurelindorenae.livejournal.com/11150.html
Pairing: KahlanxRahl (this is going to be very AU)
Inspiration:
How Do I Live - Leann Rimes (this is funny cause this was the first song that came on as I started working on the word document to type this up)
Never Too Late - Hedley
Broken Hearts
How had it ever come to this? Seven years of marriage seemed to fade into nothingness. She could remember the day her father had told her she had been sold into a rich and powerful marriage. She had been seven years old. At the time it had made no difference to her. She knew it wouldn’t take place until she was sixteen years old. But quickly those nine years passed. The garrison had come to meet her in Thandore. They escorted the young woman out of the Hidden Valley and through the Midlands. After a month of slow marching (with the young Confessor riding upon a brilliant white horse) they had reached their destination. The Peoples Palace. The very heart of D’Hara. But this was while the alliance between Aydindril and D’Hara was still strong. Still pure.
She could remember that day fully. How beautiful the ceremony had been. How her gown glowed, and the handsome face of her groom.
Before that day, Kahlan Amnell had never once laid eyes upon the King of the Eastern territory. But she remembered now the way he looked. He was gorgeous. Kahlan had been expecting the King’s hair to be golden, like that of his father (or so she had heard), and she expected him to show all his years. He was after all twenty-seven years her senior. Yet the man she saw before her was no more than a day over thirty. And that seemed to be pushing the envelope to her. When she was lead up the aisle to the exterior altar, in one of the many grand courtyards and gardens, she gazed in amazement towards the man that was already waiting at the head with the priest for her.
Darken Rahl. He stood a vision of youth. His long dark hair laying in soft curls. Dancing about his shoulders. The very top was twisted lightly and pulled back behind his head. There it was held by a small silver plate and stick clasp. It shone in the glowing golden afternoon sunlight. He wore three layers of white. The very top layer, the outer sleeveless robes, were white velvet and embroidered with fine silver thread; the deep collar which reached his navel, was embroidered with tiny sparkling diamonds. They cast jewel fire in the soft light of the sun. Attached to the sleeveless white velvet vest, were small cap sleeves. Just enough to stick out and away from the shoulders. Their core was thick black leather, for support, while they layers of silver silk stitched over it. The silver silk was beaded with the same diamonds as the collar. From these short caps hung lightweight white silk sleeve panels. Behind his arms, they hung like a split cloak, and were left to flutter in even the lightest of all breezes. The light material danced as though celebrating the day. The second layer was the under robes of medium weight white silk. The collar was less deep, but still fell down to just below his tanned breast. The hems of the skirts were embroidered in tiny silver flowers. The sleeves were three quarter, and belled. Attached only under the arm, so the tops draped down and exposed his chiselled deltoids. This belled sleeves were hemmed in the same tiny silver flowers as the hem of the underskirts. The third layer was a set of shimmering white, silk organza, arm warmer-styled sleeves. They were separate pieces, pulled on like gloves, and worn under the belled sleeves. The thin silk organza allowed his sun kissed flesh to be seen beneath it. The points of the sleeves attached to silver rings. One worn on each of his middle fingers. Holding the sleeves in place. Like the collar of his outer robe, these sleeves were embroidered in silver leaves and flowers, and offset with small sparkling diamonds. Three narrow black leather belts held his robes close to him. One lay above his hip, one over his hip, and one just below. They traveled towards his crotch, where the belts merged together. Just below, at mid thigh they were held together by an ornate silver buckle; a crescent moon and a star. The symbol of the Kingdom. Over these belts he wore one more. A thick black belt worn around his hips, to keep the others in place. It locked together with a round, interlocking, gold buckle.
In the shimmering sunshine he was a vision.
And Kahlan’s fears had melted away when she stood before him. Her hand in his. His smile was bewitching. She barely remembered her vows. But the ceremony had been beautiful. Of that she was certain.
That night she had worn the rada’han, of course. Though her husband had seemed wary to lock her into it. She hated how heavy it was, but for her he had transformed it. A beautiful and lightweight silver choker with a ruby in the center. She knew she could never use her magic again, but if it meant she wouldn’t hurt the husband she found herself drawn to, than it was worth it.
It had taken her two years. Two years of trying and praying. But finally she was pregnant with her husband’s child. And in that time she had never felt more loved. The glow she radiated matched only the one she received from her husband. Though, he had always been good with her. She knew he was someone else with her. She knew he was not this good with the Kingdom. And, as a Confessor she should have cared. But, locked in her beautiful collar, she was no longer a Confessor. She was impervious to what the others would have wanted of her. She was happy here in the Palace with her husband. The husband that rubbed her belly every time the baby strained her. Every time she was brought pain. All she needed to do was gasp and he was at her side. Kneeling before her and rubbing the roundness of her tummy. And his hand was deliciously warm. It comforted her, and calmed their unborn child. Their baby already knew the touch of its loving father. It pleased her down to her very core. Rahl was going to be a very good parent.
But the day the child arrived is what started the destruction. Rahl had hoped for a baby boy. Had prayed to the spirits, the Creator, and the Keeper for a boy. For an heir to take the throne when he eventually died. Instead the Confessor birthed a baby girl. It had disappointed Darken Rahl deeply. But, the baby girl he loved. He would never deny her, but she would never rule. Only a gifted male child could rule. But she could be the Confessor to the Kingdom when she was grown. They named her Temira. Tall and slender. After her mother, and after her mother’s name: Kahlan.
There was no denying it. Temira was her Daddy’s little angel. He doted upon her at every turn. And yet, despite the spoiling she received, she was a sweet little girl. Her mother’s guidance assured that. But while Darken doted upon the child, he neglected the mother. He still appeared to care for her, but it was happening slowly. He turned now only to the Mord’Sith for his pleasure. Kahlan was left as nothing more than the pretty little trophy upon the shelf. The mother of his daughter. And Kahlan knew he was trying to have a boy with at least one of the Mord’Sith. It hurt her down to her core.
But it had been four years now. And Kahlan saw her husband cavorting with the Mord‘Sith openly. He kept them in his presence (and she knew the difference between using them for war and what he was) at all times. The only time he was without them was when he was asleep in bed with her. And even then he came to their chambers late into the night. Temira was four years of age, and very much loved by both parents. But as a Confessor she would never be whole. She didn’t witness love between her parents. There were kind looks and gentle words. But there wasn’t love. At least not from father to mother. Mother loved father more than she cared to admit. Temira would never understand the bond of a woman and man in love if she did not witness it with her parents. Unlike most children, she never saw a kiss between the King and his Queen. She never saw a hug, or witnessed the playfulness that came with affection.
Kahlan sat in the royal bed chambers. Though she slept by her husband every night, the foot between them upon the mattress felt like a hundred miles. They always slept with their backs to one another. The Confessor now sat before her mirrored vanity. Combing her long dark curls out. Slowly to keep them soft and whole. In the mirror behind her she could see Rahl enter the room. She didn’t move to acknowledge him. It was today she was going to start treating him as he had been treating her. Even if it hurt her.
Rahl was smiling, half laughing. He had just put Temira to bed in the nursery. The room that adjoined to their own. She was so unbelievably cute it always caught him off guard. He wondered what he had done to deserve such a beautiful little creature in his life. He sighed happily as he sat on the bed behind her, watching her. “Oh Kahlan… your daughter is beautiful.”
Kahlan didn’t move. She just continued to brush out her hair.
Rahl raised a brow a little, but shrugged it off. He stood up once more and walked to her. Taking the comb from her hand and standing behind her. Gathering her silky tresses in his hand as he carefully ran the abalone comb through them. Brushing her hair for her as he had not in years.
Again, Kahlan didn’t move. Did not thank him.
His good mood was starting to wear off. And quickly. She didn’t have to be so rude to him. A simple “that’s nice” would have sufficed. Well, probably not, but at least it would have been words. Even the dying man gurgled his respect to Father Rahl. “You know, you could at least say thank you!”
Kahlan looked down at her nails easily. Examining their feminine length.
He had had enough. He threw her hair down; the pretty little comb shattered upon impact with the marble floor. “Speak to me!”
The dark beauty merely stood up and brushed her night gown off and turned her back towards him as she started towards their bed. Taking the left side as she always had.
Rahl stalked around her; his strides long and powerful. He rounded her angrily and grabbed her shoulder tightly. He meant to threaten her into speaking to him. But her hand shot out. She might not have been able to confess him, but she could still grab his throat. He jolted a little, surprised. Kahlan pushed him back as hard as she could, it knocked him back till his legs were against the edge of the bed. He glared back at her.
The stare lasted for many intense moments. Both willing themselves to win the battle of wills. He had to dominate. She had to prevail. He would not let his wife control him. She wouldn’t be subjected to his humiliating behaviour any more.
But something strange happened as they stared at each other. Both into the turbulent eyes of the other. And it snapped. Each seeing what they had grown to love about the other. Despite the bitter, cold, war between them.
They lunged at the same time. Kahlan grabbed the side of his jaw gently, as Darken put his hand firmly upon the back of her neck; cradling the base of her skull. They pulled each other’s face close at the same moment. Locking lips in a feverish kiss. Darken pulled her up against himself and willed her choker to return to a rada’han. The suddenly weight caught Kahlan off guard, but she opened her eyes for only a split second. Quickly consumed by his kiss once again. Rahl willed the collar to open, and once it sprang apart he removed it, tossing it to the floor.
Kahlan was shocked, but she had a feeling of what he was trying to say. He loved her enough to not be confessed. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to believe that, but she wouldn’t argue the matter as she pressed close and pushed him back to their bed.
Broken hearts healed in one gaze and one kiss. And the fate of a young Confessor child corrected.
So they didn’t have a son. There was always a chance. Or he could always changed the traditions of D’Hara. He could say a woman could rule.
And Kahlan would no longer have to feel left out of her husband’s heart.