The Gift of Stolen Time - Part 24
Title: The Gift Of Stolen Time
Author: Dark_Kurai
Pairing: Cara/Kahlan, touches of Cara/Dahlia
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Spoilers: Should be none, plays after 2x22.
Summary: Follow-up to A Tear, A Word, A Smile - When Zedd opens a magical portal to ease their travels after the victory against the Keeper, something goes wrong that forces Cara away from the Midlands for some time...
A/N: I'm so sorry for the long silence, but my cousin had her appendix cut out and was in the hospital for a few days. I took over for everything and visited her every day to keep her amused (let me tell you, the food in the hospital is... beyond all horrors), which didn't leave much time for anything else. Everything's dandy now, though. Other than the fact that the cat's driving me cuuuh-razy right now...
So, I have NO grasp of ratings, so I wonder of this part counts as PG-13 or R... but I made it R from the beginning, so I guess I'm safe. On with the fic!
24.
"I'm going to teach you the basics of sword-fighting from now on. You may be Noa's advisor and she can handle a fight pretty well, but it's better to be save than sorry."
Zane pressed his tongue against the upper side of his teeth, not very amused by the whole concept. He was a musician and a talker, playing with weapons had not been on his 'things I want to do before dying' list. Maybe he could fit it in somewhere between 'planting a tree' and 'getting an actual king to walk naked along the King's Row'. And taught by the Seeker himself? That would at least create a fabulous pick-up line.
"So, what am I supposed to do?"
"Grab one of the swords on the rack."
"Which end do I need to hold?"
Richard raised an amused eyebrow. "Funny. Get moving, you smart-ass."
With a theatrical sigh that told of numerous burdens and immense self-pity, Zane grabbed the nearest sword and did a few trial swings while joining the Seeker on the training grounds.
Showing him some basic steps and then walking him through a few dry runs, they crossed their blades for the first times after an hour, the two of them moving in slow-motion with the Hartlander explaining what he did, why he did it and how Zane had to react.
After another hour, Zane sat on the ground, panting and holding his aching arm.
"Spirits, you're not used to anything at all, eh?" Richard wondered with a smile and a trace of pity for the young man.
"You know what I used that arm for the last years? Pointing out who had to do what for me. It's really fantastic for the mental health, you should try it sometimes," the advisor replied dryly.
"I thought you were a musician?"
"Next to my ex-job as co-director, I write music and play the flute. That's not exactly an acronym for 'axe-wielding', you know."
Letting out a guffaw at Zane's sarcasm, Richard sat down next to him, offering his waterskin to the exhausted man. "You're worse than Cara when she joined us for the first time. Isn't there anything that intimidates you? Aren't you scared someone might take it the wrong way that you're this... honest?"
"The worst is a fist demolishing my handsome face. I'm only that biting to people that can handle it... or that know me. It's not like I called you a dimwit the moment I met you."
Richard raised an eyebrow. "No. You only did that on the second day."
"See! Because I knew you could handle it." Zane flashed the Seeker a charming smile. "And I can be pretty tame when I have to or it's useful for me. I mean, who else would've been able to talk the guard into showing me if he could still see my torchlight from the bottom of the well?"
"We needed an hour to get him out of there. Now the poor man is scared of small spaces."
"Aww, he'll get better. And to answer your initial question... I'm scared of a lot of things. Dozens. I simply won't let it dictate my life." Taking a drag from the waterskin, gray eyes seemed to gaze into the hall, but actually saw a time and place far, far away. "When my family died in the war because I was to scared to do anything, it nearly destroyed me. I'm cautious, yes, because I value my life, but I'm not hiding behind my fear anymore. Never again." He turned to grin at the Seeker. "And it's just too much fun to jab at some people's tender spots and see how far I can go... it's like a hobby."
Richard reached forward, squeezing Zane's shoulder while seeing the young man with new eyes. "Changing yourself like that... that's admirable, Zane. You learned from your mistakes and became a better man. You're strong."
"Please try to forget that the next time you're hammering on my sword like a madman, okay?"
"It was a tap."
"You call that a tap? What are you, the Seeker of New Definitions?"
Richard scoffed, then sighed deeply, a shadow crawling over his face. "I wish I was."
Perking up at that, the younger man scooted closer. "That sounds like a story. What's wrong, snoop?"
"Stop calling me that. It's Seeker, not snoop."
"Same difference. Now spill." Zane bopped the Seeker's shoulder with his own, seeing that the man was burdened with something. And if it kept them from getting back to their training soon, who was he to let that opportunity slip by?
"It's... Kahlan."
"Oh, woman trouble."
"Can't you be serious for a minute?"
"Serious rhymes with delirious and that's never a good thing. You talk, I listen, deal?"
Accepting the chance to tell someone else about his trouble other than his grandfather, who was a bit biased by the fact that he cared about Kahlan just as much as him - although Richard would never hold that past him - it felt good to let out some steam. He proceeded to tell Zane about his past, how he met Kahlan, what they went through, how much he loved her. That he would do anything for her.
"I thought a marriage was the perfect way to cheer her up. With Cara missing and Shota telling us about this damned conception of a male Confessor, she was so depressed and drawn into herself. It changed when Cara came back, but Cara was burdened herself and so Kahlan spend so much time trying to help her. I love that about her, her will to help her friends in whichever way possible."
He sighed, scratching at his short cropped hair, thinking off everything that had happened.
"Then I asked for her hand. She said Yes and I was... spirits, I felt so lucky. For her, for me... for us. Like nothing could stand in our way as long as we were together. I thought it would bring her happiness. And then there was the revelation about Noa... and you have to believe me, although it was a shock, I was so happy for them all. I love Noa as if she were my own niece."
Zane could see Richard's jaw working hard, eyes stormy, and knew that more was hidden there, that more would be coming forth. He watched in silence, smart gray eyes ever seeing what others didn't, ever calculating and cunning. Knowing what Richard would say before he had spoken it out loud.
"But... everything changed. I hoped that with the two of us married, we would find back to the closeness we had, have a family together. Now I think that even after the marriage... Kahlan already found her family, with me as useless embellishment. Watching from the sidelines, but never a part."
He turned his sad gaze towards Zane, helpless. "We're drifting apart. I'm losing her, if maybe not as a friend, then as my love and I don't know what I can do to reverse it, how I can keep her close to me. And I also don't know why. I'm scared to use my powers as Seeker to see the full truth in her, although they tell me constantly that something is wrong. Changed. I... fear whatever the reason is, it's going to destroy me."
Both mulled over their thoughts for a while, watching the dusty soil beneath their feet and the glimmer of light dancing on the blades. Richard was fighting with himself, with the darker side of his soul that every human being had somewhere inside of them and at the moment it seemed as if he was terrified of losing the struggle inside his mind. Maybe Zedd had been right... back then he had managed to quell and conquer the rage that fuelled the Sword of Truth, but what if it had only been one battle in what was actually an ever on-going war? One that could not be won or lost, only held at bay by a strong will that would tire eventually one day?
Then suddenly Zane started to speak, interrupting the darkness daring to flood his grim thoughts.
"There was a tale I learned in the Carnival," he began, heedless of Richard's confused look at the change of topic. "It was about a magical cat with a fur made from the finest gold. It visited one town after the other, strolling through the land. Many tried to lure it in, catch it and sell its fur to the highest bidder. They wanted to keep the cat for themselves, but all that tried failed and were cursed for the rest of their lives. Only those that freely gave it nourishment without a thought of keeping her caged or using any hair of it for themselves would find three years of luck visiting their house whenever the cat went on its way, making the people happy and rewarding them for their goodness."
"So what does that have to do with me?"
"You really are a dimwit, aren't you?"
Richard bristled and dragged his knees close, glowering.
Zane sighed and explained in detail. "Sabir made that story up, hoping that young men would learn to keep their hearts compassionate and refrain from abusing the women around them. Kahlan is the cat in this story, Richard. You can't force her to stay and sometimes things change. If you keep her chained to you, you will grow unhappy for the rest of your life. But if you let her go freely, she either comes back to you... or you might get something beautiful in return for your selflessness. All without using the Seeker fancy-schmancy to scratch open her inner private thoughts."
Gliding a hand over the characteristic detail on the hand guard of his weapon, Richard let the young man's words settle in his mind, thinking them over. Finally he raised his head, looking at Zane now with a new kind of respect.
"I don't think there is a better advisor Noa could wish for than you," he said with a smile, although there was still sadness in him and a rage at losing the most precious thing he had ever held. It would take time and effort to get used to the idea that maybe Kahlan's and his future as a pair was not as set in stone as he had believed. That maybe he had managed to convince even himself with something that wasn't particularly true. It wouldn't stop him from hoping that all went back to normal, though.
"Wizard's First Rule," he mumbled, "people will believe a lie because they want it to be true, or they're afraid it's true. I guess I want it to be true more than anyone."
"Told you, snooper. Fits with the oafish stereotype of the woodcutters."
Snatching his sword and jumping back on his feet, the renewed Seeker pushed all thoughts of his love aside and indicated with the tip of his sword and a twinkle in his eyes that Zane should stand back up and join the fight. That was the only outlet for his rage, if not for his sadness. "You're not going to laugh for long once we're done with the training."
"Honey, I'll be grinning even if you knock out each and every one of my perfect teeth. A few bruises is a piece of cake against that. And the ladies love it."
To his dismay, Richard had to find out two hours later that even a fully exhausted, black and blue Zane had a tongue sharp enough to have him, the battle-hardened Seeker, fleeing for a break.
__________________
"Dahlia."
The addressed woman looked up from where she wanted to bite into the piece of apple she had taken from the full table, hand still hovering in front of her lips, which curled at the sight in front of her. The excitement became more solid when she realized the stance and the unhidden meaning in the eyes of the one who had called her.
"Leave us alone," Dahlia commanded in a sweet tone to her staff, the soldiers saluting briskly and leaving the area where the guests could fill their empty bellies. Most of the food was yet untouched and Dahlia turned towards Cara, twirling the fruit amused between her fingers.
"What gives me the honor of your presence, Cara?" she asked curiously, although one part of the answer she could already give herself. The Mord'Sith stood with her legs apart, one hand on her hip and the kind of fire in her lowered gaze that had the Sergeant shiver in anticipation.
Yet she couldn't help but jab at her old lover, still miffed about the blonde insulting her after Dahlia tried to rekindle their relationship. "I didn't expect you to deal with dimwitted puppies." She stressed the last word.
Cara didn't reply, only sauntered forward in a slow, sensual way that had Dahlia's eyes riveted to leather clad hips until she was unable to look anywhere but cyan green, as the woman was now standing flush against her. The warmth of the blonde was diffusing through cloth and skin, pooling low in her belly.
"You're not sulking because of a little tongue-lashing, are you?" Cara taunted back, the native roll of her D'Haran accent stretched to the brim, having Dahlia shiver with want at the tone. "I thought..." Cara went on under her breath, ducking her head, "...we were past such.. trivialities." Encasing the raised fingers of Dahlia's hand with her lips, the Mord'Sith grazed the digits with her teeth before sucking the apple piece into her mouth with a swipe of her tongue.
By now Dahlia was ready to devour her, as she took her time with chewing the tasty morsel. She was baiting the tactician, with a slow lick of her lips and a challenging rise of her eyebrow. Because for all the sweet poison in her mouth, her love for word-play and charming her way into other's minds, twisting truths until they were bare mockery lies of their origin... Cara was the one, giant tear, the blatant weakness in Dahlia's nearly flawless composure. The Mord'Sith knew her long-time lover like the leather stretched across her oldest Agiel.
It only took another moment and a meaningful rub of red armor against cloth for the Sergeant to break. Dahlia surged forward without hesitation, her fingertips clasping at the tanned neck and her lips seeking the plumb, red ones in reckless determination, pressing herself against the full length of Cara's frame in a dominating gesture.
Cara let her have the lead for a heartbeat or two, letting the lustful exchange of kisses turn deeper, then seized her prey. Although she couldn't deny that Dahlia's ministrations stroked a similar, nostalgic heat in her insides, Cara was too much in control of her mind and actions to let it cloud her judgment. And the fire of passion and want was nothing in the face of red-hot anger that clawed at her boundaries... not yet sure if the dark blonde really knew about her son maybe being alive or not.
But she would find out.
Her lips still locked with the other woman's, Cara grabbed Dahlia's hips and raised her up, a low growl in her throat. The other woman knew that intercourse with a Mord'Sith was as rough and painful as it was passionate and she didn't question when the blonde changed the direction towards the table and carried Dahlia over, too lost in the taste and feel of her lover.
She did flinch though with a barely suppressed scream when Cara slammed her back down on the table top, not bothering to wipe away cutlery and dishes, the sound of glass breaking sweet music in the red-clad woman's ears and the heavy tang of fresh blood filling her flared nostrils and senses like a macabre perfume.
"Stop squirming," the Mord'Sith ground out against Dahlia's panting breath, "I know you like me giving you pain. A pity that they didn't make you strong... make you Mord'Sith."
Dahlia groaned and tried to buck, to relieve the pressure on her bruised back. Yet she was pushed back down forcefully when Cara glided her right hand harshly up her body, over her breasts, and gripped her shoulder tightly, thumb digging into the dip above her collarbone. Then the Mord'Sith was over her again, kissing her breath away mercilessly.
The heady bliss Dahlia was in, the incredible mixture of pain and pleasure, was something she had dreamed about for over two years, after Cara sought out the distance between them. No lover had ever come close to the inferno the talented blonde could stoke in her, no one knew how to go too far with her just like that, no one knew so well what spots to bruise and which to soothe.
"Cara," she gasped out against the other woman, "I've wanted this since...so long."
Closing off the tacticians mouth, Cara kissed her harshly until Dahlia shivered with need for oxygen and clawed at her back in both craving and fear. With the dark blonde's lungs pumping hard, Cara hissed down into her ear, her free hand slipping beneath the red-black cloth of the pinned woman's top and over soft flesh.
"And now, if you don't want me to stop, you will tell me about my son that Darken Rahl is raising."
Would Dahlia not be completely out of breath, it would've hitched in shock. But her train of thought was messy, foggy, suffocated beneath the lust filled haze that had her in its grip. No amount of scheming and intrigues could compare to sexual activities with Cara.
"No," she could only moan in a feeble show of denial.
Such weak defense. You're no match for me, puppy.
Without replying, the blonde buried her teeth in Dahlia's neck until the skin broke beneath her ministrations. Gathering the ruby blood drops on the flat of her tongue, she pressed upwards again, prying the other woman's mouth open and letting her taste the metallic liquid. Dahlia's eyes nearly rolled into the back of her head when the length of Cara's muscle rolled against hers feverishly.
"Tell me," Cara purred, her lips even more red from the blood, "you know you want to. Because it's me."
"I... can't," Dahlia forced out with chagrin, her body taut with yearning for her old lover. "I.. don't.. Cara..."
Tableware clinked and fell over in a heap when Cara grabbed one of the Sergeant's tense legs and raised it up against her side, thigh clasping against her ribs. She dragged the other woman's lower body flush against her own and rolled her hips into Dahlia's in such a salacious way that it had the dark blonde cry out in pleasure and loose all restraint.
"His name's Damon!" Dahlia shouted out, barely able to keep up with gasping for air. It was like an instant razor blade traveling down across Cara's spine, breaking open skin and leaving her her nerve ends bare and aching. She almost snapped at that, realizing that her lover had lied to her all this time.
Betrayer!
It was a wild twirl of iron will, training and anger that kept her going instead of slamming Dahlia's head against the table until her screams and sobs echoed from the walls without any trace of pleasure.
"Where is he?" Cara growled with a sensual lick of the tactician's neck. Her eyes caught a trace of something in the distant door that nearly had her freeze in panic, but the need to get the information was stronger. The love and hate in her veins directed at the writhing woman beneath her was too much of a heady mixture to stop now. What she would have given to have Dahlia hanging right now from the shackles in the Mord'Sith dungeons...
"In D'Hara... somewhere..." She moaned deeply when Cara pressed into the center of her heat once again. "Changes place... irregularly... since he is the heir... he's ten... oh Spirits! I don't know where..." Gulping down a breath, Dahlia clasped her hand in the long, golden hair. She let go when Cara pressed her thigh until it hurt.
"Good," Cara murmured. Ice cold, controlled. Passionless.
And suddenly Dahlia was left panting on the table, with shards of glass embed into the skin of her back and a bleeding bite mark on her chest, with no warm body against her own. Confused at the sudden change and still hazy from her raging passion, she never saw the flat palm coming.
The slap against her cheek forced her back down on the table, on her side. A metallic plate with fitting cutlery crashed to the ground, followed by some of the food. More tableware joined the floor when Cara lashed out at Dahlia again and again, until the other woman sported a split lip and a purple, bruised cheek bone, with blood flowing out of her nose.
The green fury Dahlia could see past the pain in her face when she was dragged close to Cara had her mouth go dry in panic. For the first time since many years, the cruel Sergeant was afraid for her life.
"There is only one reason why I will let you live for lying to me for years and that is because you were once an actual human being and not a sadistic mockery of our Orden. You will tell no one in the Midlands what happened here, but once you stand before your master you can explain in great detail that his rogue Mord'Sith knows about her son and will make him pay."
It was only her long past closeness to Dahlia that could make her loose control like this and the bitter thorn of betrayal stung like the meanest poison.
Letting Dahlia fall to the floor with a sneer of distaste, Cara washed her mouth clean of the tactician's taste with a long swallow of an untouched wine mug.
"This isn't the end," Dahlia replied from were she was crouching on the dirty floor, wiping away the glistening red on her chin with a hand trembling in pure anger and loathing.
"Oh, I doubt it is," Cara mocked, splashing the rest of the nearly purple alcohol on Dahlia's head, making the humiliation complete. "There's something on your face," she sneered and marched away, leaving behind a spurned woman that was trembling with rage and a promise of revenge while her flesh still throbbed with want and unfound release.
_______________________
Kahlan paced down the empty, nearly unused top floor for what felt like the thousandth time, shaken. There was a dozen Confessor mantras in her head that she repeated. Repeated, repeated and repeated.
It didn't keep away the stirring image of Cara taking the D'Haran emissary right on top of the table like a feral animal.
A history together, sure. I'll keep an eye on her, of course. I will get her and talk to her... that didn't look like talking to me! The Mother Confessor stopped and groaned in frustration at herself, dragging at the roots of her hair with both hands in endless frustration.
Jealousy. That was the problem at hand here and it was neither Kahlan's right nor place to even feel it.
If Cara wanted to tumble with an 'old friend' or whatever this Dahlia Hawthorne was, then it was her complete right to do so. She trusted Cara enough that the Mord'Sith would not divulge any secrets or betray Richard and the others, not with all that had happened. Not with her hate of Darken Rahl going strong.
But what got to Kahlan the most was the fact that Cara had shown such blatant sexual interest in a woman. A woman. Although it was common knowledge that Mord'Sith used their sexuality just as much as a weapon as the Agiels, after the blonde's seeming interest in Leo the revelation came as a surprise. No, not as surprise... more like a punch in the gut to open her eyes to the unveiled facts.
Kahlan had told herself again and again that they could never be, that Cara would not want her because of a thousand different reasons... her being a woman only one of them. Now it was one less reason to believe there was no chance for something and, even worse, it put the kiss Cara had given her after the marriage proposal into a much different complexion.
A much less friendly and even less platonic one.
Spirits, what she would have given to be the woman beneath the blonde back then in the guest wing. Her pulse raced, her hands turned clammy and her body temperature rose just at the memory. The picture of Cara kissing someone so deeply was only more fodder for the already guilty dreams the Mother Confessor had alone at night and she was convinced that this evening would be the hardest to endure yet to boot.
Slumping backwards against the large windows that overlooked the city and gave a wonderful view of the mountains in the distance, the outlook was lost on Kahlan, who rubbed her face tiredly, achingly.
Oh Cara, what you do to me.
She loved Richard. Somehow she did, even if it was different. He had been the first to show her not to be scared of touching, the first to stand and fight in front of her without the enforcement of confession. He had taught her that being in love could be something beautiful and pure, not a thing to be pushed away and feared. She owed him not only her new view of life and justice, but also to never give up on hope and that mercy was a weapon that gave instead of took.
Still: He may have been the one that had opened up her hardened heart, but it wasn't the Seeker that had taken the first step into its most tender depths.
If Cara had never been there, she wouldn't think twice about being in love with a woman... but Cara was here, close, and not even the gift of Richard's selfless feelings could compare with the yearning she had for the other female. Of course, she would never wish the blonde away, not in a thousand years of unrequited love, but that didn't diminish the hurt in her in the least.
At least with Noa the need to keep the line intact had gone away and maybe, even while being married to Richard, Shota's words would be enough fuel to scare away any of his romantic advances. There would be only one person she'd think about when sharing his bed... and the guilt of cheating on him with all of her heart, soul and mind would drive her slowly crazy after everything he had done for her.
If there was one wish she had, it was being a real family with her love and her daughter.
We even have a child. How much more taunting can fate be?
She pressed the palms of her hands against her closed eyes in silent prayer.
The sound of footsteps had Kahlan stand up hastily and find her composure, trying to appear unfazed and waiting to greet the intruder. It was unusual that someone would use this part of the castle wing if there were much quicker ways to reach the other places.
Her composure took a leap and plunged out of the window when she caught a glimpse of red leather. Hugging her middle in an instinctive defense reaction, Kahlan had a hard time to gaze at Cara's face with what she had witnessed, the blondes hair still in disarray, conjuring a thousand wanton thoughts in the Confessor's head.
The sensual mouth moving against a pale, stretched throat, a hint of glistening red beneath her tongue..
The full length of her frame, pressed down so fittingly against female curves, every movement a well-placed seduction in itself...
"Oh, uh, Cara." Kahlan darted her eyes left and right while fishing for something to say and willing her face to grow cold again. Say something, Confessor. Don't be tongue-tied! "Eh... how did your talk.. with Dahlia go? I heard she told you what-..."
"You saw us," Cara interrupted the Confessor who had a friendly smile on her face, which now vanished along with her fumbled words.
Kahlan pressed her lips together and turned to the side, slightly away from the blonde that was boring her intense gaze into her. She never had cursed her inability to read Mord'Sith more than now, especially with each and every one of Cara's emotionless layers up.
"It's not my business what you're doing or... whom," Kahlan forced out, trying not to appear like the mess she was. "If it got you the information you wanted, then..."
She could see Cara's clenched jaw out of the corner of her vision as the Mord'Sith intervened once again. "I never intended to sleep with her. I got her that far to get what I wanted... and after that, I hurt her for being the lying, groveling dirt that she is today." And then, as if in afterthought: "I made her bleed for all the years she withheld the truth from me."
Why are you telling me this, Cara? Why are you caring?
Kahlan turned her head back to the blonde with sad compassion. "I'm so sorry. For all they did to you."
But Cara only spun around to gaze into the distance, watching the snow covered giants behind Aydindril with a hooded gaze. "It's not your fault."
And with that they stood next to each other, a foot of space between them. Just a world between them.
The Mother Confessor could feel the pulse beneath her skin, every vein and nerve ending burning.
"This is ridiculous," Kahlan whispered softly against the glass, her breath condensing on the distorted material. "What are we doing here?"
The question contained everything and all that was wrong between them, the never-ending dance they executed around each other, the almost-but-not-quite, complicated relationship that they didn't dare touch or otherwise it might destroy the life they build around themselves. Always one step apart, but unwilling to move closer or further away.
They were both scared. Terrified even. Hurting.
And in that moment, for only the few beats of a desperate heart, Kahlan had a horrible revelation. A tiny glimpse at the whole length of her life both past and coming and she knew that if she denied herself this feeling right now, one more time, all of her love, compassion, hope and good-will would break apart, her soul withering and dying without any Breath of Life capable of bringing it back.
A shell on the throne of Aydindril, inept to lead a country or teach her offspring what it meant to rule justly.
Broken, without any part of an Agiel even close to having touched her body.
"Cara," she breathed, voice laced with tears and the sound of surrender, her hands seeking out the warm flesh of the other woman. Unable to articulate what she needed. Wanting for herself what the enemy had received so freely and unmerited.
The Mord'Sith could only marvel at the difference of emotion her name evoked, spoken in the same way by both her old lover and the woman she wanted most, yet so entirely diverse. Kahlan's voice was so pure, so kind and skimmed places in her never touched before. Her eyes fluttered close at the feeling of the brunette's shaking fingertips on her neck, so much less demanding and more giving than Dahlia's.
"Mother Confessor," Cara tried to warn, but it came out more than a pleading whimper than a real threat. The thumb stroking up and down her jawbone was distracting her and it seemed as if her legs never received the command to step away, out of the addictive warmth of the brunette.
Still riled up from her actions down in the guest wing in all ways imaginable, it simply wasn't possible for her to refuse the craved touch once again. How much punishment would she have to give herself for this traitorous selfishness?
"Please, please, just this once... only this once...don't deny me," Kahlan begged and the tone told Cara all that the brunette couldn't put into words here and now and although she knew it would make matters worse, the yearning stronger, she opened her eyes and stopped hiding behind the darkness of her lids.
She may be Mord'Sith, but she was only human.
Drowning in Kahlan's gaze was like flying high in the sky on bird's wings. There were things in life that lacked description... they had to be felt. They had to be experienced through touch, connection, merging.
When the Confessor slowly ducked her head and touched her lips to those of what should have been her mortal enemy, both women could only gasp helplessly at the full, intense contact of soft skin on skin. This wasn't like the fluttering peck in the hallway weeks before.
Breathing the blonde's name once more against her mouth and feeling the other woman sling her arm around her middle, the other hand against her neck, Kahlan could only press close to Cara and revel in how their bodies lay flush, more intimate than any hug could accomplish. Her hands buried themselves in Cara's long strands, holding her face close.
The kiss was slow, needy, as if disbelief held them in its grasp. Trembling, they savored each caress, poured their heart into every steady stroke, until the need for air had them push their noses against the other's cheek, mouths still seeking out each other in short, gentle touches while they breathed their mutual, only partly satisfied longing in deeply.
For the first time since realizing her love for Cara, Kahlan's heart settled in a wonder-filled calm. Here, in the arms of the blonde, with surroundings fading away and the taste of her still lingering on her lips, was contentment in its purest form.
Her heart, full with the woman in front of her, reached up and placed the syllables in the air on its own volition. "Cara, I..."
The rest of it was swallowed by the Mord'Sith pressing her lips onto Kahlan's for a second, desperate time. When she pulled back, the brunette gazed at her confused. There was a flash of panic in Cara' eyes, born from more than missing her duty and fearing her emotions.
"Don't." She swallowed. "Not now. Not here. Please."
Kahlan could only nod at the wish, forcing the words back down to where they belonged caged in. Unspoken. She pulled Cara close again, burying her face not in the neck guard, but the spot below Cara's ear and jaw, where there was a space of free, unarmored skin.
A minute passed by, only broken by the soft exchange of light kisses and gentle caresses, both never stepping apart more than needed and uttering no word but the name of the woman they loved.
But suddenly, when the content touch of lips dared to become an open-mouthed wave of passion, it was overwhelming the Mord'Sith like a wave of responsibilities crashing against her fogged mind and the urge to flee was rising to abnormal heights. It was all too beautiful, too perfect... and her bruised, scarred soul ached beneath this gift of bliss bestowed on her, it was too much too soon and Cara bristled against submitting herself with all the problems that pointed like gleaming spear tips at what was developing here. She was losing herself and it scared her, terrified her, more than anything else.
It was more than just the Sister of the Agiel in her trying to flee from the deathly touch of the Confessor.
"No, stop," she ground out as Kahlan's kisses trailed down her face and she pushed the taller woman away, with a burst of strength and yet as careful as blowing a feather into the wind. "It's a mistake."
They watched each other with skittish gazes, with attraction and the weight of reality settling back on them.
"Oh Spirits," Kahlan gasped out and covered her face with unbelief at what she had done, what her feelings had led her to do. Was she so far gone from her Confessor training that she was unable to keep herself in check?
With fear of touching each other again, lest it would lead to another outlet of emotion they couldn't keep under control, they took another step away from each other, breathing deep and evenly and trying not to think too hard of the kiss-swollen lips of the other woman.
"Richard can't know about this," Kahlan decided with conviction, the last word containing not just what had happened minutes ago. "Ever."
Cara chose to only nod with her face blank, but troubled enough that the cyan green of her eyes was stormy and dark.
They stayed together like this, undisturbed by the castle inhabitants, disturbed by the mess inside of them, until the orb of fire wandered across the sky and found a rest behind the mountains, only leaving behind the soft glow of forgotten light. Taking the memories and revelations of the past time they had shared and keeping them close in their souls, they put their masks back in place and joined the others at dinner as if all was right in the world.
_____________
A/N: Uhm... sorry, Dahlia lovers? *ducks*
Richard keeps being blind by choice and our two favourites keep dancing around each other... how long can they go on like this? When will they break? Dun dun dun!
The next part isn't done yet and I'm still busy, but I'm sure I can make the post on Friday. Still, apologies in advance if I can only get it up later, I'll try my best!
Author: Dark_Kurai
Pairing: Cara/Kahlan, touches of Cara/Dahlia
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Spoilers: Should be none, plays after 2x22.
Summary: Follow-up to A Tear, A Word, A Smile - When Zedd opens a magical portal to ease their travels after the victory against the Keeper, something goes wrong that forces Cara away from the Midlands for some time...
A/N: I'm so sorry for the long silence, but my cousin had her appendix cut out and was in the hospital for a few days. I took over for everything and visited her every day to keep her amused (let me tell you, the food in the hospital is... beyond all horrors), which didn't leave much time for anything else. Everything's dandy now, though. Other than the fact that the cat's driving me cuuuh-razy right now...
So, I have NO grasp of ratings, so I wonder of this part counts as PG-13 or R... but I made it R from the beginning, so I guess I'm safe. On with the fic!
24.
"I'm going to teach you the basics of sword-fighting from now on. You may be Noa's advisor and she can handle a fight pretty well, but it's better to be save than sorry."
Zane pressed his tongue against the upper side of his teeth, not very amused by the whole concept. He was a musician and a talker, playing with weapons had not been on his 'things I want to do before dying' list. Maybe he could fit it in somewhere between 'planting a tree' and 'getting an actual king to walk naked along the King's Row'. And taught by the Seeker himself? That would at least create a fabulous pick-up line.
"So, what am I supposed to do?"
"Grab one of the swords on the rack."
"Which end do I need to hold?"
Richard raised an amused eyebrow. "Funny. Get moving, you smart-ass."
With a theatrical sigh that told of numerous burdens and immense self-pity, Zane grabbed the nearest sword and did a few trial swings while joining the Seeker on the training grounds.
Showing him some basic steps and then walking him through a few dry runs, they crossed their blades for the first times after an hour, the two of them moving in slow-motion with the Hartlander explaining what he did, why he did it and how Zane had to react.
After another hour, Zane sat on the ground, panting and holding his aching arm.
"Spirits, you're not used to anything at all, eh?" Richard wondered with a smile and a trace of pity for the young man.
"You know what I used that arm for the last years? Pointing out who had to do what for me. It's really fantastic for the mental health, you should try it sometimes," the advisor replied dryly.
"I thought you were a musician?"
"Next to my ex-job as co-director, I write music and play the flute. That's not exactly an acronym for 'axe-wielding', you know."
Letting out a guffaw at Zane's sarcasm, Richard sat down next to him, offering his waterskin to the exhausted man. "You're worse than Cara when she joined us for the first time. Isn't there anything that intimidates you? Aren't you scared someone might take it the wrong way that you're this... honest?"
"The worst is a fist demolishing my handsome face. I'm only that biting to people that can handle it... or that know me. It's not like I called you a dimwit the moment I met you."
Richard raised an eyebrow. "No. You only did that on the second day."
"See! Because I knew you could handle it." Zane flashed the Seeker a charming smile. "And I can be pretty tame when I have to or it's useful for me. I mean, who else would've been able to talk the guard into showing me if he could still see my torchlight from the bottom of the well?"
"We needed an hour to get him out of there. Now the poor man is scared of small spaces."
"Aww, he'll get better. And to answer your initial question... I'm scared of a lot of things. Dozens. I simply won't let it dictate my life." Taking a drag from the waterskin, gray eyes seemed to gaze into the hall, but actually saw a time and place far, far away. "When my family died in the war because I was to scared to do anything, it nearly destroyed me. I'm cautious, yes, because I value my life, but I'm not hiding behind my fear anymore. Never again." He turned to grin at the Seeker. "And it's just too much fun to jab at some people's tender spots and see how far I can go... it's like a hobby."
Richard reached forward, squeezing Zane's shoulder while seeing the young man with new eyes. "Changing yourself like that... that's admirable, Zane. You learned from your mistakes and became a better man. You're strong."
"Please try to forget that the next time you're hammering on my sword like a madman, okay?"
"It was a tap."
"You call that a tap? What are you, the Seeker of New Definitions?"
Richard scoffed, then sighed deeply, a shadow crawling over his face. "I wish I was."
Perking up at that, the younger man scooted closer. "That sounds like a story. What's wrong, snoop?"
"Stop calling me that. It's Seeker, not snoop."
"Same difference. Now spill." Zane bopped the Seeker's shoulder with his own, seeing that the man was burdened with something. And if it kept them from getting back to their training soon, who was he to let that opportunity slip by?
"It's... Kahlan."
"Oh, woman trouble."
"Can't you be serious for a minute?"
"Serious rhymes with delirious and that's never a good thing. You talk, I listen, deal?"
Accepting the chance to tell someone else about his trouble other than his grandfather, who was a bit biased by the fact that he cared about Kahlan just as much as him - although Richard would never hold that past him - it felt good to let out some steam. He proceeded to tell Zane about his past, how he met Kahlan, what they went through, how much he loved her. That he would do anything for her.
"I thought a marriage was the perfect way to cheer her up. With Cara missing and Shota telling us about this damned conception of a male Confessor, she was so depressed and drawn into herself. It changed when Cara came back, but Cara was burdened herself and so Kahlan spend so much time trying to help her. I love that about her, her will to help her friends in whichever way possible."
He sighed, scratching at his short cropped hair, thinking off everything that had happened.
"Then I asked for her hand. She said Yes and I was... spirits, I felt so lucky. For her, for me... for us. Like nothing could stand in our way as long as we were together. I thought it would bring her happiness. And then there was the revelation about Noa... and you have to believe me, although it was a shock, I was so happy for them all. I love Noa as if she were my own niece."
Zane could see Richard's jaw working hard, eyes stormy, and knew that more was hidden there, that more would be coming forth. He watched in silence, smart gray eyes ever seeing what others didn't, ever calculating and cunning. Knowing what Richard would say before he had spoken it out loud.
"But... everything changed. I hoped that with the two of us married, we would find back to the closeness we had, have a family together. Now I think that even after the marriage... Kahlan already found her family, with me as useless embellishment. Watching from the sidelines, but never a part."
He turned his sad gaze towards Zane, helpless. "We're drifting apart. I'm losing her, if maybe not as a friend, then as my love and I don't know what I can do to reverse it, how I can keep her close to me. And I also don't know why. I'm scared to use my powers as Seeker to see the full truth in her, although they tell me constantly that something is wrong. Changed. I... fear whatever the reason is, it's going to destroy me."
Both mulled over their thoughts for a while, watching the dusty soil beneath their feet and the glimmer of light dancing on the blades. Richard was fighting with himself, with the darker side of his soul that every human being had somewhere inside of them and at the moment it seemed as if he was terrified of losing the struggle inside his mind. Maybe Zedd had been right... back then he had managed to quell and conquer the rage that fuelled the Sword of Truth, but what if it had only been one battle in what was actually an ever on-going war? One that could not be won or lost, only held at bay by a strong will that would tire eventually one day?
Then suddenly Zane started to speak, interrupting the darkness daring to flood his grim thoughts.
"There was a tale I learned in the Carnival," he began, heedless of Richard's confused look at the change of topic. "It was about a magical cat with a fur made from the finest gold. It visited one town after the other, strolling through the land. Many tried to lure it in, catch it and sell its fur to the highest bidder. They wanted to keep the cat for themselves, but all that tried failed and were cursed for the rest of their lives. Only those that freely gave it nourishment without a thought of keeping her caged or using any hair of it for themselves would find three years of luck visiting their house whenever the cat went on its way, making the people happy and rewarding them for their goodness."
"So what does that have to do with me?"
"You really are a dimwit, aren't you?"
Richard bristled and dragged his knees close, glowering.
Zane sighed and explained in detail. "Sabir made that story up, hoping that young men would learn to keep their hearts compassionate and refrain from abusing the women around them. Kahlan is the cat in this story, Richard. You can't force her to stay and sometimes things change. If you keep her chained to you, you will grow unhappy for the rest of your life. But if you let her go freely, she either comes back to you... or you might get something beautiful in return for your selflessness. All without using the Seeker fancy-schmancy to scratch open her inner private thoughts."
Gliding a hand over the characteristic detail on the hand guard of his weapon, Richard let the young man's words settle in his mind, thinking them over. Finally he raised his head, looking at Zane now with a new kind of respect.
"I don't think there is a better advisor Noa could wish for than you," he said with a smile, although there was still sadness in him and a rage at losing the most precious thing he had ever held. It would take time and effort to get used to the idea that maybe Kahlan's and his future as a pair was not as set in stone as he had believed. That maybe he had managed to convince even himself with something that wasn't particularly true. It wouldn't stop him from hoping that all went back to normal, though.
"Wizard's First Rule," he mumbled, "people will believe a lie because they want it to be true, or they're afraid it's true. I guess I want it to be true more than anyone."
"Told you, snooper. Fits with the oafish stereotype of the woodcutters."
Snatching his sword and jumping back on his feet, the renewed Seeker pushed all thoughts of his love aside and indicated with the tip of his sword and a twinkle in his eyes that Zane should stand back up and join the fight. That was the only outlet for his rage, if not for his sadness. "You're not going to laugh for long once we're done with the training."
"Honey, I'll be grinning even if you knock out each and every one of my perfect teeth. A few bruises is a piece of cake against that. And the ladies love it."
To his dismay, Richard had to find out two hours later that even a fully exhausted, black and blue Zane had a tongue sharp enough to have him, the battle-hardened Seeker, fleeing for a break.
__________________
"Dahlia."
The addressed woman looked up from where she wanted to bite into the piece of apple she had taken from the full table, hand still hovering in front of her lips, which curled at the sight in front of her. The excitement became more solid when she realized the stance and the unhidden meaning in the eyes of the one who had called her.
"Leave us alone," Dahlia commanded in a sweet tone to her staff, the soldiers saluting briskly and leaving the area where the guests could fill their empty bellies. Most of the food was yet untouched and Dahlia turned towards Cara, twirling the fruit amused between her fingers.
"What gives me the honor of your presence, Cara?" she asked curiously, although one part of the answer she could already give herself. The Mord'Sith stood with her legs apart, one hand on her hip and the kind of fire in her lowered gaze that had the Sergeant shiver in anticipation.
Yet she couldn't help but jab at her old lover, still miffed about the blonde insulting her after Dahlia tried to rekindle their relationship. "I didn't expect you to deal with dimwitted puppies." She stressed the last word.
Cara didn't reply, only sauntered forward in a slow, sensual way that had Dahlia's eyes riveted to leather clad hips until she was unable to look anywhere but cyan green, as the woman was now standing flush against her. The warmth of the blonde was diffusing through cloth and skin, pooling low in her belly.
"You're not sulking because of a little tongue-lashing, are you?" Cara taunted back, the native roll of her D'Haran accent stretched to the brim, having Dahlia shiver with want at the tone. "I thought..." Cara went on under her breath, ducking her head, "...we were past such.. trivialities." Encasing the raised fingers of Dahlia's hand with her lips, the Mord'Sith grazed the digits with her teeth before sucking the apple piece into her mouth with a swipe of her tongue.
By now Dahlia was ready to devour her, as she took her time with chewing the tasty morsel. She was baiting the tactician, with a slow lick of her lips and a challenging rise of her eyebrow. Because for all the sweet poison in her mouth, her love for word-play and charming her way into other's minds, twisting truths until they were bare mockery lies of their origin... Cara was the one, giant tear, the blatant weakness in Dahlia's nearly flawless composure. The Mord'Sith knew her long-time lover like the leather stretched across her oldest Agiel.
It only took another moment and a meaningful rub of red armor against cloth for the Sergeant to break. Dahlia surged forward without hesitation, her fingertips clasping at the tanned neck and her lips seeking the plumb, red ones in reckless determination, pressing herself against the full length of Cara's frame in a dominating gesture.
Cara let her have the lead for a heartbeat or two, letting the lustful exchange of kisses turn deeper, then seized her prey. Although she couldn't deny that Dahlia's ministrations stroked a similar, nostalgic heat in her insides, Cara was too much in control of her mind and actions to let it cloud her judgment. And the fire of passion and want was nothing in the face of red-hot anger that clawed at her boundaries... not yet sure if the dark blonde really knew about her son maybe being alive or not.
But she would find out.
Her lips still locked with the other woman's, Cara grabbed Dahlia's hips and raised her up, a low growl in her throat. The other woman knew that intercourse with a Mord'Sith was as rough and painful as it was passionate and she didn't question when the blonde changed the direction towards the table and carried Dahlia over, too lost in the taste and feel of her lover.
She did flinch though with a barely suppressed scream when Cara slammed her back down on the table top, not bothering to wipe away cutlery and dishes, the sound of glass breaking sweet music in the red-clad woman's ears and the heavy tang of fresh blood filling her flared nostrils and senses like a macabre perfume.
"Stop squirming," the Mord'Sith ground out against Dahlia's panting breath, "I know you like me giving you pain. A pity that they didn't make you strong... make you Mord'Sith."
Dahlia groaned and tried to buck, to relieve the pressure on her bruised back. Yet she was pushed back down forcefully when Cara glided her right hand harshly up her body, over her breasts, and gripped her shoulder tightly, thumb digging into the dip above her collarbone. Then the Mord'Sith was over her again, kissing her breath away mercilessly.
The heady bliss Dahlia was in, the incredible mixture of pain and pleasure, was something she had dreamed about for over two years, after Cara sought out the distance between them. No lover had ever come close to the inferno the talented blonde could stoke in her, no one knew how to go too far with her just like that, no one knew so well what spots to bruise and which to soothe.
"Cara," she gasped out against the other woman, "I've wanted this since...so long."
Closing off the tacticians mouth, Cara kissed her harshly until Dahlia shivered with need for oxygen and clawed at her back in both craving and fear. With the dark blonde's lungs pumping hard, Cara hissed down into her ear, her free hand slipping beneath the red-black cloth of the pinned woman's top and over soft flesh.
"And now, if you don't want me to stop, you will tell me about my son that Darken Rahl is raising."
Would Dahlia not be completely out of breath, it would've hitched in shock. But her train of thought was messy, foggy, suffocated beneath the lust filled haze that had her in its grip. No amount of scheming and intrigues could compare to sexual activities with Cara.
"No," she could only moan in a feeble show of denial.
Such weak defense. You're no match for me, puppy.
Without replying, the blonde buried her teeth in Dahlia's neck until the skin broke beneath her ministrations. Gathering the ruby blood drops on the flat of her tongue, she pressed upwards again, prying the other woman's mouth open and letting her taste the metallic liquid. Dahlia's eyes nearly rolled into the back of her head when the length of Cara's muscle rolled against hers feverishly.
"Tell me," Cara purred, her lips even more red from the blood, "you know you want to. Because it's me."
"I... can't," Dahlia forced out with chagrin, her body taut with yearning for her old lover. "I.. don't.. Cara..."
Tableware clinked and fell over in a heap when Cara grabbed one of the Sergeant's tense legs and raised it up against her side, thigh clasping against her ribs. She dragged the other woman's lower body flush against her own and rolled her hips into Dahlia's in such a salacious way that it had the dark blonde cry out in pleasure and loose all restraint.
"His name's Damon!" Dahlia shouted out, barely able to keep up with gasping for air. It was like an instant razor blade traveling down across Cara's spine, breaking open skin and leaving her her nerve ends bare and aching. She almost snapped at that, realizing that her lover had lied to her all this time.
Betrayer!
It was a wild twirl of iron will, training and anger that kept her going instead of slamming Dahlia's head against the table until her screams and sobs echoed from the walls without any trace of pleasure.
"Where is he?" Cara growled with a sensual lick of the tactician's neck. Her eyes caught a trace of something in the distant door that nearly had her freeze in panic, but the need to get the information was stronger. The love and hate in her veins directed at the writhing woman beneath her was too much of a heady mixture to stop now. What she would have given to have Dahlia hanging right now from the shackles in the Mord'Sith dungeons...
"In D'Hara... somewhere..." She moaned deeply when Cara pressed into the center of her heat once again. "Changes place... irregularly... since he is the heir... he's ten... oh Spirits! I don't know where..." Gulping down a breath, Dahlia clasped her hand in the long, golden hair. She let go when Cara pressed her thigh until it hurt.
"Good," Cara murmured. Ice cold, controlled. Passionless.
And suddenly Dahlia was left panting on the table, with shards of glass embed into the skin of her back and a bleeding bite mark on her chest, with no warm body against her own. Confused at the sudden change and still hazy from her raging passion, she never saw the flat palm coming.
The slap against her cheek forced her back down on the table, on her side. A metallic plate with fitting cutlery crashed to the ground, followed by some of the food. More tableware joined the floor when Cara lashed out at Dahlia again and again, until the other woman sported a split lip and a purple, bruised cheek bone, with blood flowing out of her nose.
The green fury Dahlia could see past the pain in her face when she was dragged close to Cara had her mouth go dry in panic. For the first time since many years, the cruel Sergeant was afraid for her life.
"There is only one reason why I will let you live for lying to me for years and that is because you were once an actual human being and not a sadistic mockery of our Orden. You will tell no one in the Midlands what happened here, but once you stand before your master you can explain in great detail that his rogue Mord'Sith knows about her son and will make him pay."
It was only her long past closeness to Dahlia that could make her loose control like this and the bitter thorn of betrayal stung like the meanest poison.
Letting Dahlia fall to the floor with a sneer of distaste, Cara washed her mouth clean of the tactician's taste with a long swallow of an untouched wine mug.
"This isn't the end," Dahlia replied from were she was crouching on the dirty floor, wiping away the glistening red on her chin with a hand trembling in pure anger and loathing.
"Oh, I doubt it is," Cara mocked, splashing the rest of the nearly purple alcohol on Dahlia's head, making the humiliation complete. "There's something on your face," she sneered and marched away, leaving behind a spurned woman that was trembling with rage and a promise of revenge while her flesh still throbbed with want and unfound release.
_______________________
Kahlan paced down the empty, nearly unused top floor for what felt like the thousandth time, shaken. There was a dozen Confessor mantras in her head that she repeated. Repeated, repeated and repeated.
It didn't keep away the stirring image of Cara taking the D'Haran emissary right on top of the table like a feral animal.
A history together, sure. I'll keep an eye on her, of course. I will get her and talk to her... that didn't look like talking to me! The Mother Confessor stopped and groaned in frustration at herself, dragging at the roots of her hair with both hands in endless frustration.
Jealousy. That was the problem at hand here and it was neither Kahlan's right nor place to even feel it.
If Cara wanted to tumble with an 'old friend' or whatever this Dahlia Hawthorne was, then it was her complete right to do so. She trusted Cara enough that the Mord'Sith would not divulge any secrets or betray Richard and the others, not with all that had happened. Not with her hate of Darken Rahl going strong.
But what got to Kahlan the most was the fact that Cara had shown such blatant sexual interest in a woman. A woman. Although it was common knowledge that Mord'Sith used their sexuality just as much as a weapon as the Agiels, after the blonde's seeming interest in Leo the revelation came as a surprise. No, not as surprise... more like a punch in the gut to open her eyes to the unveiled facts.
Kahlan had told herself again and again that they could never be, that Cara would not want her because of a thousand different reasons... her being a woman only one of them. Now it was one less reason to believe there was no chance for something and, even worse, it put the kiss Cara had given her after the marriage proposal into a much different complexion.
A much less friendly and even less platonic one.
Spirits, what she would have given to be the woman beneath the blonde back then in the guest wing. Her pulse raced, her hands turned clammy and her body temperature rose just at the memory. The picture of Cara kissing someone so deeply was only more fodder for the already guilty dreams the Mother Confessor had alone at night and she was convinced that this evening would be the hardest to endure yet to boot.
Slumping backwards against the large windows that overlooked the city and gave a wonderful view of the mountains in the distance, the outlook was lost on Kahlan, who rubbed her face tiredly, achingly.
Oh Cara, what you do to me.
She loved Richard. Somehow she did, even if it was different. He had been the first to show her not to be scared of touching, the first to stand and fight in front of her without the enforcement of confession. He had taught her that being in love could be something beautiful and pure, not a thing to be pushed away and feared. She owed him not only her new view of life and justice, but also to never give up on hope and that mercy was a weapon that gave instead of took.
Still: He may have been the one that had opened up her hardened heart, but it wasn't the Seeker that had taken the first step into its most tender depths.
If Cara had never been there, she wouldn't think twice about being in love with a woman... but Cara was here, close, and not even the gift of Richard's selfless feelings could compare with the yearning she had for the other female. Of course, she would never wish the blonde away, not in a thousand years of unrequited love, but that didn't diminish the hurt in her in the least.
At least with Noa the need to keep the line intact had gone away and maybe, even while being married to Richard, Shota's words would be enough fuel to scare away any of his romantic advances. There would be only one person she'd think about when sharing his bed... and the guilt of cheating on him with all of her heart, soul and mind would drive her slowly crazy after everything he had done for her.
If there was one wish she had, it was being a real family with her love and her daughter.
We even have a child. How much more taunting can fate be?
She pressed the palms of her hands against her closed eyes in silent prayer.
The sound of footsteps had Kahlan stand up hastily and find her composure, trying to appear unfazed and waiting to greet the intruder. It was unusual that someone would use this part of the castle wing if there were much quicker ways to reach the other places.
Her composure took a leap and plunged out of the window when she caught a glimpse of red leather. Hugging her middle in an instinctive defense reaction, Kahlan had a hard time to gaze at Cara's face with what she had witnessed, the blondes hair still in disarray, conjuring a thousand wanton thoughts in the Confessor's head.
The sensual mouth moving against a pale, stretched throat, a hint of glistening red beneath her tongue..
The full length of her frame, pressed down so fittingly against female curves, every movement a well-placed seduction in itself...
"Oh, uh, Cara." Kahlan darted her eyes left and right while fishing for something to say and willing her face to grow cold again. Say something, Confessor. Don't be tongue-tied! "Eh... how did your talk.. with Dahlia go? I heard she told you what-..."
"You saw us," Cara interrupted the Confessor who had a friendly smile on her face, which now vanished along with her fumbled words.
Kahlan pressed her lips together and turned to the side, slightly away from the blonde that was boring her intense gaze into her. She never had cursed her inability to read Mord'Sith more than now, especially with each and every one of Cara's emotionless layers up.
"It's not my business what you're doing or... whom," Kahlan forced out, trying not to appear like the mess she was. "If it got you the information you wanted, then..."
She could see Cara's clenched jaw out of the corner of her vision as the Mord'Sith intervened once again. "I never intended to sleep with her. I got her that far to get what I wanted... and after that, I hurt her for being the lying, groveling dirt that she is today." And then, as if in afterthought: "I made her bleed for all the years she withheld the truth from me."
Why are you telling me this, Cara? Why are you caring?
Kahlan turned her head back to the blonde with sad compassion. "I'm so sorry. For all they did to you."
But Cara only spun around to gaze into the distance, watching the snow covered giants behind Aydindril with a hooded gaze. "It's not your fault."
And with that they stood next to each other, a foot of space between them. Just a world between them.
The Mother Confessor could feel the pulse beneath her skin, every vein and nerve ending burning.
"This is ridiculous," Kahlan whispered softly against the glass, her breath condensing on the distorted material. "What are we doing here?"
The question contained everything and all that was wrong between them, the never-ending dance they executed around each other, the almost-but-not-quite, complicated relationship that they didn't dare touch or otherwise it might destroy the life they build around themselves. Always one step apart, but unwilling to move closer or further away.
They were both scared. Terrified even. Hurting.
And in that moment, for only the few beats of a desperate heart, Kahlan had a horrible revelation. A tiny glimpse at the whole length of her life both past and coming and she knew that if she denied herself this feeling right now, one more time, all of her love, compassion, hope and good-will would break apart, her soul withering and dying without any Breath of Life capable of bringing it back.
A shell on the throne of Aydindril, inept to lead a country or teach her offspring what it meant to rule justly.
Broken, without any part of an Agiel even close to having touched her body.
"Cara," she breathed, voice laced with tears and the sound of surrender, her hands seeking out the warm flesh of the other woman. Unable to articulate what she needed. Wanting for herself what the enemy had received so freely and unmerited.
The Mord'Sith could only marvel at the difference of emotion her name evoked, spoken in the same way by both her old lover and the woman she wanted most, yet so entirely diverse. Kahlan's voice was so pure, so kind and skimmed places in her never touched before. Her eyes fluttered close at the feeling of the brunette's shaking fingertips on her neck, so much less demanding and more giving than Dahlia's.
"Mother Confessor," Cara tried to warn, but it came out more than a pleading whimper than a real threat. The thumb stroking up and down her jawbone was distracting her and it seemed as if her legs never received the command to step away, out of the addictive warmth of the brunette.
Still riled up from her actions down in the guest wing in all ways imaginable, it simply wasn't possible for her to refuse the craved touch once again. How much punishment would she have to give herself for this traitorous selfishness?
"Please, please, just this once... only this once...don't deny me," Kahlan begged and the tone told Cara all that the brunette couldn't put into words here and now and although she knew it would make matters worse, the yearning stronger, she opened her eyes and stopped hiding behind the darkness of her lids.
She may be Mord'Sith, but she was only human.
Drowning in Kahlan's gaze was like flying high in the sky on bird's wings. There were things in life that lacked description... they had to be felt. They had to be experienced through touch, connection, merging.
When the Confessor slowly ducked her head and touched her lips to those of what should have been her mortal enemy, both women could only gasp helplessly at the full, intense contact of soft skin on skin. This wasn't like the fluttering peck in the hallway weeks before.
Breathing the blonde's name once more against her mouth and feeling the other woman sling her arm around her middle, the other hand against her neck, Kahlan could only press close to Cara and revel in how their bodies lay flush, more intimate than any hug could accomplish. Her hands buried themselves in Cara's long strands, holding her face close.
The kiss was slow, needy, as if disbelief held them in its grasp. Trembling, they savored each caress, poured their heart into every steady stroke, until the need for air had them push their noses against the other's cheek, mouths still seeking out each other in short, gentle touches while they breathed their mutual, only partly satisfied longing in deeply.
For the first time since realizing her love for Cara, Kahlan's heart settled in a wonder-filled calm. Here, in the arms of the blonde, with surroundings fading away and the taste of her still lingering on her lips, was contentment in its purest form.
Her heart, full with the woman in front of her, reached up and placed the syllables in the air on its own volition. "Cara, I..."
The rest of it was swallowed by the Mord'Sith pressing her lips onto Kahlan's for a second, desperate time. When she pulled back, the brunette gazed at her confused. There was a flash of panic in Cara' eyes, born from more than missing her duty and fearing her emotions.
"Don't." She swallowed. "Not now. Not here. Please."
Kahlan could only nod at the wish, forcing the words back down to where they belonged caged in. Unspoken. She pulled Cara close again, burying her face not in the neck guard, but the spot below Cara's ear and jaw, where there was a space of free, unarmored skin.
A minute passed by, only broken by the soft exchange of light kisses and gentle caresses, both never stepping apart more than needed and uttering no word but the name of the woman they loved.
But suddenly, when the content touch of lips dared to become an open-mouthed wave of passion, it was overwhelming the Mord'Sith like a wave of responsibilities crashing against her fogged mind and the urge to flee was rising to abnormal heights. It was all too beautiful, too perfect... and her bruised, scarred soul ached beneath this gift of bliss bestowed on her, it was too much too soon and Cara bristled against submitting herself with all the problems that pointed like gleaming spear tips at what was developing here. She was losing herself and it scared her, terrified her, more than anything else.
It was more than just the Sister of the Agiel in her trying to flee from the deathly touch of the Confessor.
"No, stop," she ground out as Kahlan's kisses trailed down her face and she pushed the taller woman away, with a burst of strength and yet as careful as blowing a feather into the wind. "It's a mistake."
They watched each other with skittish gazes, with attraction and the weight of reality settling back on them.
"Oh Spirits," Kahlan gasped out and covered her face with unbelief at what she had done, what her feelings had led her to do. Was she so far gone from her Confessor training that she was unable to keep herself in check?
With fear of touching each other again, lest it would lead to another outlet of emotion they couldn't keep under control, they took another step away from each other, breathing deep and evenly and trying not to think too hard of the kiss-swollen lips of the other woman.
"Richard can't know about this," Kahlan decided with conviction, the last word containing not just what had happened minutes ago. "Ever."
Cara chose to only nod with her face blank, but troubled enough that the cyan green of her eyes was stormy and dark.
They stayed together like this, undisturbed by the castle inhabitants, disturbed by the mess inside of them, until the orb of fire wandered across the sky and found a rest behind the mountains, only leaving behind the soft glow of forgotten light. Taking the memories and revelations of the past time they had shared and keeping them close in their souls, they put their masks back in place and joined the others at dinner as if all was right in the world.
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A/N: Uhm... sorry, Dahlia lovers? *ducks*
Richard keeps being blind by choice and our two favourites keep dancing around each other... how long can they go on like this? When will they break? Dun dun dun!
The next part isn't done yet and I'm still busy, but I'm sure I can make the post on Friday. Still, apologies in advance if I can only get it up later, I'll try my best!