LotS Fic: The Rule of Love 2/4
Title: The Rule of Love 2/4
Author: The Dawn
Pairing: Kahlan/Cara
Rating: PG-13 (May be closer to R in future chapters)
Warnings: Angst abounds. Be warned. Spoilers up to “Unbroken”.
Summary: Kahlan can't let Zedd cast the Spell of Undoing, which leaves only one option: Confession.
Disclaimer: Maybe if they were mine my muse would be more cooperative. As it is, I can only lay claim to my fantasies. Title comes from Sarah McLachlan,"Do What You Have To Do"
When Cara regained consciousness, the first thing she knew was pain. Her very bones screamed, every one of her muscles ached, the newly-dressed wounds on her wrists and ankles throbbed with every labored beat of her heart. It was not an unfamiliar sensation, nor was it entirely unwelcome. It was...comfortable, in a way that only a Mord-Sith could appreciate.
Slowly, she became aware of other sensations. The cold metal of a buckle brushing her cheek in a steady rhythm, the subtle shifting of soft, solid thighs beneath her head, the gentle whisper of slender fingers stroking the side of her face. Dahlia? The ground beneath her was too soft and varied to be the floor of the training room, although she certainly felt as though she'd spent hours in the chains.
Her eyes blinked open, revealing little more than blurs of color. Something wasn't right. The leather was the wrong color, a muted green rather than blood red. The face leaning over her was too angular, the hair loose and too dark. This was not Dahlia, and if she was right about the tall brown blurs, they were in a forest, not the temple. She couldn't remember how they got here, but that happened sometimes; if the training had been overly vigorous, a temporary loss of memory was to be expected. It would come back to her, but it would be wise to learn as much as possible about her present situation in the meantime. She blinked again, trying to focus her eyes, but it was still as though trying to see through a clouded lens.
“Mistress?” She muttered hoarsely, her throat raw and burning. She thought she might have heard a choked gasp in response, before soft fingertips covered her lips.
“Shh...don't try to talk yet.” The voice was familiar, but she was sure it didn't sound like any of the Mord-Sith Rahl had assigned to her training. An arm slipped under her shoulders. “Here, sit up a little and have some water.”
She felt the arm under her lift until she was leaning against the woman's chest. A waterskin was brought to her lips and, after a hesitant first taste to assure herself it wasn't poisoned, she drank greedily. The cool water soothed her chapped lips and sore throat; it felt divine, until it hit her stomach.
“Slow down, Cara, you're going to-” The warning came too late as Cara gagged, pushing the waterskin away and rolling to the side. Her muscles screamed in protest as she held herself up on all fours, vomiting little more than the water she'd just consumed.
As she heaved, her hair was pulled away from her face, another hand rubbing small circles into her back. She stiffened. Mord-Sith were well-versed in mind games, but there was a hesitation in this tender affection that was too honest to be faked. This was no Mord-Sith.
The realization shattered a wall somewhere in Cara's mind, releasing a cascade of memories that she quickly tried to organize in her mind. Kahlan. The pieces fell into place as she identified her caregiver; where she was, how she'd gotten there, what had happened. What she'd done.
Cara retched again, tears stinging her eyes as the full scope of her betrayal hit her. Not only had she turned on her friends - her friends, that she had only recently come to acknowledge as such - and given the Stone of Tears to Darken Rahl, she had effectively destroyed any chance Richard would be able to find it in time. Cara had singlehandedly ensured the Keeper's victory over the world of the living. Self-loathing seeped into her skin, familiar as an old friend.
Kahlan noted the subtle change that came over Cara, felt the muscles under her hand tighten, saw the hands clench tightly in the dirt. She felt, more than saw, the moment Cara's arms buckled under the strain of holding her up, and quickly looped her arms around the woman's waist, holding her up so she wouldn't fall.
Cara froze in Kahlan's arms, caught off-guard by the awkward, impromptu sideways embrace. Shifting back into a kneeling position, she was startled by the sudden appearance of Kahlan's hand, offering a leftover scrap of clean bandage. Taking it warily, she drew it across her mouth, wiping the sweat and bile from her lips. She ignored the dampness under her eyes, unwilling to acknowledge the evidence of her brief surrender to feeling. She would regain control of herself, she had to - without control, she was nothing.
Without control, she was just another tool to be used - as Darken Rahl had taken full advantage of. She didn't know why she could no longer feel the dark magic poisoning her blood, but she swore to herself, she would die before she let it take control again.
That thought gave her pause. By all rights, she should be dead right now. She had just witnessed Dahlia's death by confession - she pushed aside the pang of grief at the thought - and if anything, Cara was more Mord-Sith than Dahlia had been. She didn't understand how she could have survived a Confessor's touch - with her free will intact, at that - when she had seen countless Mord-Sith fall dead within seconds.
“Cara?” Her name was spoken with such depth of emotion - uncertainty, guilt, guarded hope - that Cara could not stop herself from meeting Kahlan's familiar searching gaze, if only to try to find the answers she was looking for.
Then their gazes connected, and Cara knew. It was almost painfully obvious, in retrospect. She couldn't remember when or how it had happened, but she had fallen irrevocably in love with Kahlan Amnell. Cara, the real Cara, who had been tucked into a tiny corner of her consciousness while the dark magic raged, would already have done anything Kahlan asked of her. She had, in fact, already subjected herself to numerous indignities, at times for nothing more than the warmth that would steal over her when Kahlan was pleased with her.
She had been aware of this before, but her self-appointed role as the party's voice of reason had allowed her to avoid her burgeoning feelings. The night she spent with Dahlia, that had all changed. She had tried to pretend that it was just like it had been before, when they were both Mord-Sith in the good graces of their Lord Rahl, but it couldn't be the same. With every touch, every kiss, every stroke, she'd found herself longing for Kahlan's hands, lips, fingers. Even while playing Dahlia's familiar body like a finely-tuned instrument, memory guiding every touch perfectly, she'd been thinking of Kahlan, wishing that the body beneath her belonged to the Confessor.
Cara was torn from her introspection by Kahlan's soft intake of breath. A sick feeling twisted her gut as she realized that somehow, the Confessor was able to read her. She tore her eyes away, her hand straying to her hip in search of her agiels. When she didn't find them, she looked frantically around for saddlebags, packs, anywhere they might have been stowed. Having no luck, she clamped her eyes shut, her heart pounding in her chest as her mind struggled to find some semblance of the calm stillness she was accustomed to.
Kahlan watched the panic rise in Cara, too stunned at first to react. Over the course of her travels with the Mord-Sith, she'd come to recognize little things that would give her a hint as to what she was thinking, but looking into her eyes, she had always been met with a cold wall of practiced indifference. What she had just seen in Cara, she was completely unprepared for. She could not read Cara's thoughts, but the storm of emotions raging through the woman was as accessible to her now as an open book.
When she recovered from the shock, Kahlan reached out and placed a tentative hand on Cara's arm. Green eyes shot up to meet hers, bloodshot and wary, and Kahlan was shocked to see that they were filling with moisture. Cara's full lips, pulled into a tight line, trembled with the weight of the emotion she was suppressing. Kahlan's hand slid up to her shoulder, and the caress was all it took. Her face twisted as she broke, tears spilling over her lashes and down her cheeks.
It took Kahlan a moment to realize what was happening; she'd seen Cara vulnerable before, but crying? Then all that mattered was that Cara was hurting, and she pulled the blonde into her arms, guiding her head to rest on her shoulder. That Cara did not resist broke Kahlan's heart just a little bit more, tears she thought were spent springing to her eyes anew.
She didn't know how long they sat that way, crying softly together. It could have been hours or mere moments before the crunch of leaves alerted her to Zedd and Richard's approach. She locked eyes with Zedd, communicating all of the anguish and uncertainty that still plagued her.
“Cara!” Richard wasted no time in rushing to them. Kahlan winced as she felt the blonde stiffen in her arms, then pull away, forcing her sore limbs into a stiff kneeling position. Blonde hair hung around her bowed head, allowing her a small amount of privacy to compose herself. Her cheeks were hot with shame at indulging in such weakness. Cara could count on one hand the number of times she'd cried in her life, since becoming Mord-Sith; and now, to weep like a child when it was her that caused such pain, was truly unforgivable.
She waited for Richard to speak, silently awaiting discipline. She was not a fool; she knew the Seeker was too softhearted to punish her physically, but she didn't understand how even Richard could forgive everything she'd done. She anticipated harsh words, disappointment, rejection.
She did not anticipate his hand reaching slowly toward her, fingers tucking under her chin to draw her gaze to his, nor did she expect his eyes to show such compassion. She flinched, but held steady, beating back his pity with practiced indifference.
“Rahl is going to the People's Palace.” Kahlan's heart ached at the forced monotone of Cara's voice. “We were to meet him at the temple outside of West Granthia when we completed our objective.” When you were dead. The unspoken implication was not lost on any of them.
“We should get moving.” Kahlan said reluctantly, brushing tears from her cheeks as she composed herself. Standing, she reached down to rest a hand on Cara's shoulder. “Are you well enough to travel?”
Incredulous, Cara shook the hand from her shoulder. Kahlan tried to ignore the slight, willing herself to allow the blonde the space she needed to recover. Cara stared at Kahlan dubiously.
“I'm fine. I won't jeopardize your quest any further.”
Cara stood, started to move away, but Kahlan reached out and grabbed her hand, stubbornly refusing to let her leave. She tried to make eye contact, but Cara's eyes stayed trained somewhere behind her.
“Cara, you're coming with us.” The blonde's eyes shot to Richard's, trying to read his intentions. He said the words in such a matter-of-fact way, as though it was the obvious conclusion. Mistaking this for distrust, Cara lowered her head, slumping her shoulders in resignation.
“Of course.” Of course he would not trust her, let her go on her way. She had not exactly done much to encourage such faith. He probably thought she would betray him again the first chance she got.
Though he could not see her face, Richard was not the Seeker of Truth for nothing. Seeing how Cara was interpreting his words, he rushed to correct her assumption, his voice turning compassionate.
“Cara, what happened to you was -” He did not get a chance to finish, as Cara's head snapped back up, her eyes piercing his.
“I do not need your pity, Seeker.” Cara pulled her hand from Kahlan's as she straightened, crossing her arms over her chest defensively. “I've proven to be a liability to you. If you don't trust me, I understand completely. I've given you every reason. But I won't stay around to be your pet charity project.” She quirked an eyebrow. “Unless you're going to order me, Lord Rahl.”
Kahlan noted the shift in tone, the sharp edges of Cara's voice getting under her skin even as she rejoiced at this display of obvious free will. She could see what Cara was doing, even without the occasional glimpses she was getting into the blonde's eyes. Hostility came naturally to Mord-Sith, as naturally as the need for punishment. Cara was trying to goad Richard into reacting, her words and tone designed explicitly to push the right buttons to make him lash out.
Frustrated, Richard ran a hand through his hair, trying to figure out a way to get through to her. They didn't have time to argue; Rahl expected the Mord-Sith back promptly, and he would assume them lost if they didn't come up with a plan soon. He looked to Zedd, pleading for some wise solution, but was met with an apologetic shrug. His features hardened as he played the last card he had. Keeping Cara with them was more important than being right at the moment.
“Fine. As Lord Rahl, I command you to come with us until I say you can go.”
“Why?” The question was meant to be a challenge, but Kahlan could hear the honest bewilderment. Cara understood anger, and punishment, and rejection; she did not understand why Richard would still want her to travel with them.
“You may be our best chance of getting the Stone back.” Kahlan smiled at Richard's quick thinking. This, Cara understood. She was useful to them, a tool; she could justify that in her mind. “And Kahlan needs as much protection as possible. There's still the prophecy to think about.”
Cara was silent for a moment, arms crossed, lips pursed. Kahlan could see the gears turning in her head, trying to determine if there was any way out of this, a way to regain the upper hand. After a few beats, she surrendered.
“If I'm going to protect anyone, I'll need my agiels.” Cara accepted that he wasn't going to let her leave, but she couldn't resist testing his boundaries. This was a dare, to see how far his trust extended.
Richard met her eyes directly, his own force of will standing up to hers. He called her bluff, nodding to Zedd, who cautiously handed her a pack. Recovering quickly from the shock, Cara reached in and pulled out her agiels, closing her eyes as the pain seeped in. She did not have the strength to fight him any longer, and the return of familiar pain centered her, made her feel more like herself again. She slung the pack over her shoulders, then turned. With an agiel in each hand, she started walking in the direction of the battlefield, refusing to meet anyone's gaze.
“Let's go.”
Part Three
Author: The Dawn
Pairing: Kahlan/Cara
Rating: PG-13 (May be closer to R in future chapters)
Warnings: Angst abounds. Be warned. Spoilers up to “Unbroken”.
Summary: Kahlan can't let Zedd cast the Spell of Undoing, which leaves only one option: Confession.
Disclaimer: Maybe if they were mine my muse would be more cooperative. As it is, I can only lay claim to my fantasies. Title comes from Sarah McLachlan,"Do What You Have To Do"
When Cara regained consciousness, the first thing she knew was pain. Her very bones screamed, every one of her muscles ached, the newly-dressed wounds on her wrists and ankles throbbed with every labored beat of her heart. It was not an unfamiliar sensation, nor was it entirely unwelcome. It was...comfortable, in a way that only a Mord-Sith could appreciate.
Slowly, she became aware of other sensations. The cold metal of a buckle brushing her cheek in a steady rhythm, the subtle shifting of soft, solid thighs beneath her head, the gentle whisper of slender fingers stroking the side of her face. Dahlia? The ground beneath her was too soft and varied to be the floor of the training room, although she certainly felt as though she'd spent hours in the chains.
Her eyes blinked open, revealing little more than blurs of color. Something wasn't right. The leather was the wrong color, a muted green rather than blood red. The face leaning over her was too angular, the hair loose and too dark. This was not Dahlia, and if she was right about the tall brown blurs, they were in a forest, not the temple. She couldn't remember how they got here, but that happened sometimes; if the training had been overly vigorous, a temporary loss of memory was to be expected. It would come back to her, but it would be wise to learn as much as possible about her present situation in the meantime. She blinked again, trying to focus her eyes, but it was still as though trying to see through a clouded lens.
“Mistress?” She muttered hoarsely, her throat raw and burning. She thought she might have heard a choked gasp in response, before soft fingertips covered her lips.
“Shh...don't try to talk yet.” The voice was familiar, but she was sure it didn't sound like any of the Mord-Sith Rahl had assigned to her training. An arm slipped under her shoulders. “Here, sit up a little and have some water.”
She felt the arm under her lift until she was leaning against the woman's chest. A waterskin was brought to her lips and, after a hesitant first taste to assure herself it wasn't poisoned, she drank greedily. The cool water soothed her chapped lips and sore throat; it felt divine, until it hit her stomach.
“Slow down, Cara, you're going to-” The warning came too late as Cara gagged, pushing the waterskin away and rolling to the side. Her muscles screamed in protest as she held herself up on all fours, vomiting little more than the water she'd just consumed.
As she heaved, her hair was pulled away from her face, another hand rubbing small circles into her back. She stiffened. Mord-Sith were well-versed in mind games, but there was a hesitation in this tender affection that was too honest to be faked. This was no Mord-Sith.
The realization shattered a wall somewhere in Cara's mind, releasing a cascade of memories that she quickly tried to organize in her mind. Kahlan. The pieces fell into place as she identified her caregiver; where she was, how she'd gotten there, what had happened. What she'd done.
Cara retched again, tears stinging her eyes as the full scope of her betrayal hit her. Not only had she turned on her friends - her friends, that she had only recently come to acknowledge as such - and given the Stone of Tears to Darken Rahl, she had effectively destroyed any chance Richard would be able to find it in time. Cara had singlehandedly ensured the Keeper's victory over the world of the living. Self-loathing seeped into her skin, familiar as an old friend.
Kahlan noted the subtle change that came over Cara, felt the muscles under her hand tighten, saw the hands clench tightly in the dirt. She felt, more than saw, the moment Cara's arms buckled under the strain of holding her up, and quickly looped her arms around the woman's waist, holding her up so she wouldn't fall.
Cara froze in Kahlan's arms, caught off-guard by the awkward, impromptu sideways embrace. Shifting back into a kneeling position, she was startled by the sudden appearance of Kahlan's hand, offering a leftover scrap of clean bandage. Taking it warily, she drew it across her mouth, wiping the sweat and bile from her lips. She ignored the dampness under her eyes, unwilling to acknowledge the evidence of her brief surrender to feeling. She would regain control of herself, she had to - without control, she was nothing.
Without control, she was just another tool to be used - as Darken Rahl had taken full advantage of. She didn't know why she could no longer feel the dark magic poisoning her blood, but she swore to herself, she would die before she let it take control again.
That thought gave her pause. By all rights, she should be dead right now. She had just witnessed Dahlia's death by confession - she pushed aside the pang of grief at the thought - and if anything, Cara was more Mord-Sith than Dahlia had been. She didn't understand how she could have survived a Confessor's touch - with her free will intact, at that - when she had seen countless Mord-Sith fall dead within seconds.
“Cara?” Her name was spoken with such depth of emotion - uncertainty, guilt, guarded hope - that Cara could not stop herself from meeting Kahlan's familiar searching gaze, if only to try to find the answers she was looking for.
Then their gazes connected, and Cara knew. It was almost painfully obvious, in retrospect. She couldn't remember when or how it had happened, but she had fallen irrevocably in love with Kahlan Amnell. Cara, the real Cara, who had been tucked into a tiny corner of her consciousness while the dark magic raged, would already have done anything Kahlan asked of her. She had, in fact, already subjected herself to numerous indignities, at times for nothing more than the warmth that would steal over her when Kahlan was pleased with her.
She had been aware of this before, but her self-appointed role as the party's voice of reason had allowed her to avoid her burgeoning feelings. The night she spent with Dahlia, that had all changed. She had tried to pretend that it was just like it had been before, when they were both Mord-Sith in the good graces of their Lord Rahl, but it couldn't be the same. With every touch, every kiss, every stroke, she'd found herself longing for Kahlan's hands, lips, fingers. Even while playing Dahlia's familiar body like a finely-tuned instrument, memory guiding every touch perfectly, she'd been thinking of Kahlan, wishing that the body beneath her belonged to the Confessor.
Cara was torn from her introspection by Kahlan's soft intake of breath. A sick feeling twisted her gut as she realized that somehow, the Confessor was able to read her. She tore her eyes away, her hand straying to her hip in search of her agiels. When she didn't find them, she looked frantically around for saddlebags, packs, anywhere they might have been stowed. Having no luck, she clamped her eyes shut, her heart pounding in her chest as her mind struggled to find some semblance of the calm stillness she was accustomed to.
Kahlan watched the panic rise in Cara, too stunned at first to react. Over the course of her travels with the Mord-Sith, she'd come to recognize little things that would give her a hint as to what she was thinking, but looking into her eyes, she had always been met with a cold wall of practiced indifference. What she had just seen in Cara, she was completely unprepared for. She could not read Cara's thoughts, but the storm of emotions raging through the woman was as accessible to her now as an open book.
When she recovered from the shock, Kahlan reached out and placed a tentative hand on Cara's arm. Green eyes shot up to meet hers, bloodshot and wary, and Kahlan was shocked to see that they were filling with moisture. Cara's full lips, pulled into a tight line, trembled with the weight of the emotion she was suppressing. Kahlan's hand slid up to her shoulder, and the caress was all it took. Her face twisted as she broke, tears spilling over her lashes and down her cheeks.
It took Kahlan a moment to realize what was happening; she'd seen Cara vulnerable before, but crying? Then all that mattered was that Cara was hurting, and she pulled the blonde into her arms, guiding her head to rest on her shoulder. That Cara did not resist broke Kahlan's heart just a little bit more, tears she thought were spent springing to her eyes anew.
She didn't know how long they sat that way, crying softly together. It could have been hours or mere moments before the crunch of leaves alerted her to Zedd and Richard's approach. She locked eyes with Zedd, communicating all of the anguish and uncertainty that still plagued her.
“Cara!” Richard wasted no time in rushing to them. Kahlan winced as she felt the blonde stiffen in her arms, then pull away, forcing her sore limbs into a stiff kneeling position. Blonde hair hung around her bowed head, allowing her a small amount of privacy to compose herself. Her cheeks were hot with shame at indulging in such weakness. Cara could count on one hand the number of times she'd cried in her life, since becoming Mord-Sith; and now, to weep like a child when it was her that caused such pain, was truly unforgivable.
She waited for Richard to speak, silently awaiting discipline. She was not a fool; she knew the Seeker was too softhearted to punish her physically, but she didn't understand how even Richard could forgive everything she'd done. She anticipated harsh words, disappointment, rejection.
She did not anticipate his hand reaching slowly toward her, fingers tucking under her chin to draw her gaze to his, nor did she expect his eyes to show such compassion. She flinched, but held steady, beating back his pity with practiced indifference.
“Rahl is going to the People's Palace.” Kahlan's heart ached at the forced monotone of Cara's voice. “We were to meet him at the temple outside of West Granthia when we completed our objective.” When you were dead. The unspoken implication was not lost on any of them.
“We should get moving.” Kahlan said reluctantly, brushing tears from her cheeks as she composed herself. Standing, she reached down to rest a hand on Cara's shoulder. “Are you well enough to travel?”
Incredulous, Cara shook the hand from her shoulder. Kahlan tried to ignore the slight, willing herself to allow the blonde the space she needed to recover. Cara stared at Kahlan dubiously.
“I'm fine. I won't jeopardize your quest any further.”
Cara stood, started to move away, but Kahlan reached out and grabbed her hand, stubbornly refusing to let her leave. She tried to make eye contact, but Cara's eyes stayed trained somewhere behind her.
“Cara, you're coming with us.” The blonde's eyes shot to Richard's, trying to read his intentions. He said the words in such a matter-of-fact way, as though it was the obvious conclusion. Mistaking this for distrust, Cara lowered her head, slumping her shoulders in resignation.
“Of course.” Of course he would not trust her, let her go on her way. She had not exactly done much to encourage such faith. He probably thought she would betray him again the first chance she got.
Though he could not see her face, Richard was not the Seeker of Truth for nothing. Seeing how Cara was interpreting his words, he rushed to correct her assumption, his voice turning compassionate.
“Cara, what happened to you was -” He did not get a chance to finish, as Cara's head snapped back up, her eyes piercing his.
“I do not need your pity, Seeker.” Cara pulled her hand from Kahlan's as she straightened, crossing her arms over her chest defensively. “I've proven to be a liability to you. If you don't trust me, I understand completely. I've given you every reason. But I won't stay around to be your pet charity project.” She quirked an eyebrow. “Unless you're going to order me, Lord Rahl.”
Kahlan noted the shift in tone, the sharp edges of Cara's voice getting under her skin even as she rejoiced at this display of obvious free will. She could see what Cara was doing, even without the occasional glimpses she was getting into the blonde's eyes. Hostility came naturally to Mord-Sith, as naturally as the need for punishment. Cara was trying to goad Richard into reacting, her words and tone designed explicitly to push the right buttons to make him lash out.
Frustrated, Richard ran a hand through his hair, trying to figure out a way to get through to her. They didn't have time to argue; Rahl expected the Mord-Sith back promptly, and he would assume them lost if they didn't come up with a plan soon. He looked to Zedd, pleading for some wise solution, but was met with an apologetic shrug. His features hardened as he played the last card he had. Keeping Cara with them was more important than being right at the moment.
“Fine. As Lord Rahl, I command you to come with us until I say you can go.”
“Why?” The question was meant to be a challenge, but Kahlan could hear the honest bewilderment. Cara understood anger, and punishment, and rejection; she did not understand why Richard would still want her to travel with them.
“You may be our best chance of getting the Stone back.” Kahlan smiled at Richard's quick thinking. This, Cara understood. She was useful to them, a tool; she could justify that in her mind. “And Kahlan needs as much protection as possible. There's still the prophecy to think about.”
Cara was silent for a moment, arms crossed, lips pursed. Kahlan could see the gears turning in her head, trying to determine if there was any way out of this, a way to regain the upper hand. After a few beats, she surrendered.
“If I'm going to protect anyone, I'll need my agiels.” Cara accepted that he wasn't going to let her leave, but she couldn't resist testing his boundaries. This was a dare, to see how far his trust extended.
Richard met her eyes directly, his own force of will standing up to hers. He called her bluff, nodding to Zedd, who cautiously handed her a pack. Recovering quickly from the shock, Cara reached in and pulled out her agiels, closing her eyes as the pain seeped in. She did not have the strength to fight him any longer, and the return of familiar pain centered her, made her feel more like herself again. She slung the pack over her shoulders, then turned. With an agiel in each hand, she started walking in the direction of the battlefield, refusing to meet anyone's gaze.
“Let's go.”
Part Three