Fanfiction - "She Ain't Ain't Heavy..." - Legend of the Seeker (PG)
Disclaimer: Legend of the Seeker/Sword of Truth is owned by Terry Goodkind and all the grand high mucky mucks of ABC. No copyright infringement is intended and no money was made from this of course. Any similarity to any other story not my own is coincidence.
Title: She Ain't Heavy...
Genre: Legend of the Seeker; Cara-centric
Rating: PG, rated for general concepts
Timeline: Post "Touched"
Summary: She ain't heavy, she's my sister...
Author's Notes: This is my first foray into Legend of the Seeker... just so y'all are warned.
Oh, and the title is a play on, "he ain't heavy, he's my brother."
Edit: I really shouldn't post things "in a burst of inspiration." *HR shakes head* I just read through my post and realized there were quite a few tense mistakes in there. I think I caught them all, but if y'all would be kind enough to point them out if you see more, I would be very grateful. *wry grin*
I fingered the red agiel in my hands, the pain almost like a sweet background ache flavoring my thoughts. It wasn't until I heard Kahlan's uncommonly lovely voice that I looked up, resisting the near growl that tickled my throat in response. Instead I gripped my weapon tighter, gasping a little at the harder brushes of pain that radiated from my hands and through my body.
I wanted to hate her; I did. I wanted to hate the woman that was responsible for changing me. It didn't matter that I wanted to change, only that she made it impossible not to. More than even Richard, it was Kahlan that was changing me and my life, if for no other reason than she was Lord Rhal's every inspiration and truth.
Richard would die for Kahlan and everything he did seemed almost determined to lead him down that path. It made protecting him... difficult. But I had vowed to Kahlan and myself that I would protect Richard, so difficult or not, it was my honor to do so.
I couldn't help my growl this time.
It made her my sister.
We would both fight to the death for Richard. Our reasons and methods might have been wildly different, but we would both die for him.
So it made her my sister, and I wanted to hate her, but I couldn't.
Kahlan looked over to me, a thoughtful look in her eyes. I gripped my agiel even harder. It felt like she could see right through me; right into the heart of me. Confessors weren't supposed to be able to read the Mord'Sith, but I wasn't entirely certain that I was wholly Mord'Sith anymore. And when Kahlan looked at me, I was sure that I wasn't.
I gasped a little, biting my lip to hide it as I gripped my weapon even tighter.
The Mother Confessor looked away from me and back to Richard, an aching, almost broken look in her eyes as she stopped herself from reaching out for him.
I almost smiled.
Pain, yet another thing that made her my sister. Pain, I could understand. Pain, I could feel. The slow, steady ache of it, burning in your belly, making you feel alive even as you wanted to die. Kahlan felt it. And if I were truly still a Mord'Sith in the very pit of my soul, I would feel pleased by that; but I didn't.
I wanted to feel pleased that the Mother Confessor could never have the one thing she most desired, but I didn't. It made me hate her, except, I didn't, because she was my sister, even if she didn't know it.
“Cara, are you ready?” Richard asked, approaching me while Kahlan watched him. And for a moment, I wondered if he realized just how much she did watch him. Almost as much I watched her I supposed.
“Cara?”
I shook my head, trying to clear it as the pain hadn't. I slipped my agiel back into its sheath and rose.
“I will be,” I drawled as Richard walked away with a nod before I turned to ready my horse.
“Are you all right?”
I whirled, surprised to find Kahlan standing just behind me.
“Of course, why wouldn't I be, Confessor?” I asked, eying the woman.
She gave me a thoughtful look and I suppressed the sudden urge to shiver under her scrutiny.
“Richard wants to use the Mist'loth pass to head North. We'll have no choice but to pass close to the Mord'Sith temple there,” Kahlan said, pausing only a moment before she continued. “We'll all have to be... careful.”
For a moment, her blue eyes held a quiet sense of concern and compassion. I nodded and she turned back to her own tasks.
I wanted to hate her...
Title: She Ain't Heavy...
Genre: Legend of the Seeker; Cara-centric
Rating: PG, rated for general concepts
Timeline: Post "Touched"
Summary: She ain't heavy, she's my sister...
Author's Notes: This is my first foray into Legend of the Seeker... just so y'all are warned.
Oh, and the title is a play on, "he ain't heavy, he's my brother."
Edit: I really shouldn't post things "in a burst of inspiration." *HR shakes head* I just read through my post and realized there were quite a few tense mistakes in there. I think I caught them all, but if y'all would be kind enough to point them out if you see more, I would be very grateful. *wry grin*
I fingered the red agiel in my hands, the pain almost like a sweet background ache flavoring my thoughts. It wasn't until I heard Kahlan's uncommonly lovely voice that I looked up, resisting the near growl that tickled my throat in response. Instead I gripped my weapon tighter, gasping a little at the harder brushes of pain that radiated from my hands and through my body.
I wanted to hate her; I did. I wanted to hate the woman that was responsible for changing me. It didn't matter that I wanted to change, only that she made it impossible not to. More than even Richard, it was Kahlan that was changing me and my life, if for no other reason than she was Lord Rhal's every inspiration and truth.
Richard would die for Kahlan and everything he did seemed almost determined to lead him down that path. It made protecting him... difficult. But I had vowed to Kahlan and myself that I would protect Richard, so difficult or not, it was my honor to do so.
I couldn't help my growl this time.
It made her my sister.
We would both fight to the death for Richard. Our reasons and methods might have been wildly different, but we would both die for him.
So it made her my sister, and I wanted to hate her, but I couldn't.
Kahlan looked over to me, a thoughtful look in her eyes. I gripped my agiel even harder. It felt like she could see right through me; right into the heart of me. Confessors weren't supposed to be able to read the Mord'Sith, but I wasn't entirely certain that I was wholly Mord'Sith anymore. And when Kahlan looked at me, I was sure that I wasn't.
I gasped a little, biting my lip to hide it as I gripped my weapon even tighter.
The Mother Confessor looked away from me and back to Richard, an aching, almost broken look in her eyes as she stopped herself from reaching out for him.
I almost smiled.
Pain, yet another thing that made her my sister. Pain, I could understand. Pain, I could feel. The slow, steady ache of it, burning in your belly, making you feel alive even as you wanted to die. Kahlan felt it. And if I were truly still a Mord'Sith in the very pit of my soul, I would feel pleased by that; but I didn't.
I wanted to feel pleased that the Mother Confessor could never have the one thing she most desired, but I didn't. It made me hate her, except, I didn't, because she was my sister, even if she didn't know it.
“Cara, are you ready?” Richard asked, approaching me while Kahlan watched him. And for a moment, I wondered if he realized just how much she did watch him. Almost as much I watched her I supposed.
“Cara?”
I shook my head, trying to clear it as the pain hadn't. I slipped my agiel back into its sheath and rose.
“I will be,” I drawled as Richard walked away with a nod before I turned to ready my horse.
“Are you all right?”
I whirled, surprised to find Kahlan standing just behind me.
“Of course, why wouldn't I be, Confessor?” I asked, eying the woman.
She gave me a thoughtful look and I suppressed the sudden urge to shiver under her scrutiny.
“Richard wants to use the Mist'loth pass to head North. We'll have no choice but to pass close to the Mord'Sith temple there,” Kahlan said, pausing only a moment before she continued. “We'll all have to be... careful.”
For a moment, her blue eyes held a quiet sense of concern and compassion. I nodded and she turned back to her own tasks.
I wanted to hate her...