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hrhrionastar) wrote2010-12-29 06:44 pm
Fic: Your Slave--gift for xixlovexgreenx
Title: Your Slave
Characters/Pairing: Rahl/Kahlan/Cara, Richard/Kahlan, Denna/Richard (also includes Zedd, Dennee, Shota...)
Length: 2913
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: whole series
Summary: Gift for xixlovexgreenx. AU: What if Kahlan were a Mord'Sith? (Note: the part at the beginning mentions Halfrek, a character from Buffy, but you don't have to have seen Buffy--that part is minor).
Your Slave
Richard’s eyes sought Kahlan’s desperately through the bars as he told her his fears—Denna was taking over his mind—he had no idea how much longer he could hold out—!
“Confess me!” he begged. “I’d rather be your slave than hers—!”
And in the dark shadows behind him in the cell, something moved.
It was a strange wish, and a strange man who made it, Halfrek considered. But, as she was always telling darling Anyanka, sometimes men need a little vengeance, too. The woman in the cell opposite him had abandoned him in his hour of need, and if that wasn’t a betrayal, she didn’t know what was.
“Done,” she said, in the gloom. And her eyes gleamed, because she knew how to make this particular wish much more interesting than a simple Confessor’s touch—
And, because she liked the man she’d come to grant vengeance, she blurred his memories—they would not serve him where he was going.
Where the world was going—alternate realities were such fun!
Dennee Amnell rode like the wind across the desert, her long hair and gown flowing behind her. Her pursuers shot deadly arrows at her, but she bent low over her horse’s neck, her whole being concentrated on her task, and none found their mark.
Through the boundary she ran, guided by a brave nightwisp, venturing far from her native forest. Still the men pursued Dennee, as she ran through woodland now. There were only four, but she was alone—four would be enough.
Cornered at the edge of a cliff, she held the Book over the edge. Even if they killed her, they wouldn’t get the Book. It was worth far more than her life.
He came out of nowhere—her kind-hearted, bumbling savior.
After that, everything fell into place.
“What is it?” Dennee asked one night. Richard was on watch, but it was her turn now. Yet he stayed where he was, gazing pensively into the distance.
“I miss my family,” he told her honestly. He wasn’t looking at her, but Dennee was a Confessor—she could tell.
Of course, she wasn’t sure she’d ever heard Richard lie…
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I know they are with the Creator.”
“My father is,” Richard answered pensively. “But my brother lives. I wish I could make peace with him.”
Dennee murmured something soothing and noncommittal. She rested a hand on her stomach; her pregnancy was starting to show a little. Zedd wouldn’t want her to keep traveling with them soon, when he knew. But she knew of no other Confessor she would willingly trust with this most vital of missions.
“Do you have any siblings, Dennee?” Richard asked.
Dennee’s muscles tightened. “A sister,” she said shortly.
That terrible day—Mother’s death, Father’s cruel laughter—“free at last!” Dennee, crying over her bound hands—“Don’t cry, Dennee,” Kahlan whispered in the dark, “We’re together: it’ll be okay,” Dennee’s conviction, her absolute faith in Kahlan’s reassurance—and then that day. The day they came. Kahlan and Dennee had snuck away to the marketplace—Dennee wanted new ribbons—the women in red. Kahlan’s screams—and then, later, when Father disappeared—all alone in the big house, Dennee cried and cried, until the Sisters of the Light came and took her away—
“But she’s dead,” Dennee finished, hardening her heart against her memories. Against Kahlan. “It’s my watch. Go to bed, Richard.”
Richard had no idea if they were getting closer to defeating Rahl or not. Ever since Zedd had given him the Sword, everything seemed different. The world was a much worse and dangerous place than he’d imagined.
Yet when he touched the Sword, he felt its magic running through him, burning away his doubts and his loneliness. He knew he was doing the right thing—the only possible thing.
And he had Zedd and Dennee by his side.
They were by his side the day she came. The woman in red. She was so beautiful that Richard almost hesitated too long before he raised his sword. There were others with her, but he had eyes only for her.
“Richard, no!” Zedd cried, but it was too late; she used the magic of his sword against him. It felt familiar, somehow, like someone walking over his grave.
She felt familiar, too—
Dennee was standing stock still by Richard’s side—her daggers were nowhere in sight, and her hands, in which she held more power than anyone Richard had ever known, hung uselessly by her sides.
Then the pain of the strange red weapon was too much, and Richard knew no more.
“It’s so unfair,” Mistress Denna of the Mord’Sith raged to her companion, Mistress Constance. “What does Lord Rahl think he’s doing? She’s a Confessor, for the Keeper’s sake!”
“She has never used that power against us,” Constance demurred. “She is a believer in…” here Constance’s lip curled, “fair play.”
“The Seeker should be mine,” Denna insisted. “And I will be the one to train him—even if I have to kill Mistress Kahlan to do it.”
He was beautiful. Mistress Kahlan surveyed her captive, where he hung unconscious from his chains. She felt a distinct impulse to run her hands over that gorgeous, unmarred skin, but restrained herself. Lord Rahl wanted this done quickly.
Besides, she owed her sister a visit as well.
His eyes flickered open. Kahlan waited.
“Where…?” he asked vaguely.
She smiled cruelly. “Jandrilyn, a Mord’Sith temple,” she told him easily. “I am Mistress Kahlan.”
His eyes seemed to widen at her name, and now he struggled against the chains. “What have you done with my friends?”
Kahlan shrugged. “Nothing—yet.” A fact she must soon remedy. The Wizard was missing, but almost certain to mount a foolish rescue attempt; soon enough he too would be in her grasp.
Not that Lord Rahl wanted the Wizard trained—Kahlan would just Confess him. It was the Seeker Lord Rahl wanted tortured—wanted to see broken and bleeding at his feet.
Kahlan was his favorite—his First Mistress. Of course this assignment was hers.
Kahlan smiled at the thought of Lord Rahl. He was her Master, yet so much more than that—he was her reason for living.
She disagreed with him on the matter of the Seeker—Confession would be easier and faster than training. But his wish was her command—and besides, soon he would come in person to check on her progress.
She would make him proud.
“What do you want with me?” her captive, the Seeker, asked defiantly.
Kahlan drew her agiels. They made a satisfying discordant sound that hovered on the edge of hearing—it reminded her of how she always felt right before she released her power. She smiled.
“When I’m through with you,” she promised, “you will be begging to swear your loyalty to Lord Rahl.”
“Never!” he said, and set his jaw.
And Kahlan struck.
Denna had a plan. Constance was to tell Kahlan she had a message from Lord Rahl—that would fetch her if nothing else would. Denna, who was reasonably competent with forgery, had even written an order in what was approximately Lord Rahl’s hand and exactly a servant’s blood—authentic enough.
Her plan succeeded, too—its only flaw, Denna realized too late, was that a message wouldn’t keep Kahlan away very long.
But she was gone for the moment, and Denna snuck in to where the Seeker hung suspended from his chains. His eyes were almost swollen shut, and his body was covered in adorable bruises and cuts—they made Denna want to lick him all over, until she got every last drop of blood.
For all that, there was no mark on his chest. Denna put a gentle hand there, over his heart. Its beat was still strong—and she knew Kahlan had not yet tasted the sweet joy of feeling it stop.
Kahlan was weak if she believed she could train the Seeker without killing him. Denna resolved to rectify her mistake.
Mistress Cara rode beside Lord Rahl to the temple, her every sense upon alert. Just because Kahlan had captured the Seeker, didn’t mean all Lord Rahl’s enemies were gone.
Cara’s eyes were sharp, and her hands ready to deflect unfriendly magic.
She would defend Lord Rahl with her life.
But her thoughts strayed to the woman who waited for them in the temple.
Cara had once thought she understood pleasure and pain—she had explored their limits with Dahlia, always her partner in adversity.
But Lord Rahl had taken her to his bed, and there she had met Kahlan—and with Kahlan, there were no limits.
It was obscene, Dennee thought—her sister, in that awful red leather. Sneering down at her.
They’d cut Dennee’s hair—to humiliate her, Denee wondered? Or simply to give the rats and other creatures less of a comfortable nest?
“Dennee,” Kahlan smiled. “It’s been a long time.”
Dennee met her look for look. “Not long enough,” she said harshly. But a tear threatened at the corner of her eye.
Kahlan reached out a hand to stroke Dennee’s cheek. “Don’t cry, Dennee. We’re together; it’ll be okay,” she said.
Dennee cried in earnest now—she thought she could have borne anything but Kahlan’s false kindness. “Stop!” she shouted. “Hurt me!”
But Kahlan only laughed. “I am,” she said wonderingly. “Already. Isn’t that interesting?”
And Dennee looked at Kahlan—and wished she didn’t care. Wished her sister was no longer her sister, as all Midlands children were taught—once the women in red came, their hostages were no longer bound by ties of blood or affection—they were as those already in the Underworld.
Dennee knew now—that was a lie.
“Bring me Mistress Kahlan,” Lord Rahl told Cara. “We must celebrate her triumph.” And he tossed a saddlebag to Cara as she dismounted.
Cara caught it easily, smirking. She knew what was in this particular saddlebag.
She sauntered into the temple, trying to contain her eagerness to find Kahlan, and headed directly for Kahlan’s training room—as First Mistress, she had her own—on the assumption that Kahlan would hardly be far from her assigned prey.
She heard the death scream from the doorway.
For a moment she hesitated—should she interrupt? But the thought of watching Kahlan work decided her, and she kicked the door open.
The Seeker was on the floor, unmistakably dead; but it wasn’t Kahlan who bent over him—it was Denna.
Cara’s breath escaped her on a hiss; furious, she yanked Denna up by her braid and flung her across the room.
Denna was trying to steal Kahlan’s rightful prey—and Cara, in her inexplicable absence, would defend her First Mistress’s property.
“What’s the matter, Cara?” Denna taunted, wiping blood from her lips. Hers? “Don’t tell me you don’t want a taste of the Seeker.”
Cara had to bite her lip to keep from answering, but Kahlan’s exasperated words came back to her: “Don’t answer Denna, you know it only encourages her.”
With the thought of Kahlan, Cara had the strength to focus only on her task; she threw Denna to the floor a few more times, while Denna hung on to her braid and ripped several strands of hair from her scalp. Then she touched her agiel scientifically to the back of Denna’s neck. Denna glared at her before her body slumped, unconscious.
Cara opened the door, peered out for Kahlan, and dragged Denna a few steps away.
She deserved what she got—let one of the younger Sisters find her. Denna had been trying to take Kahlan’s victory, Cara knew.
It was a little known fact that whoever gave someone the Breath of Life ever afterward had a nebulous sort of connection with them—Mord’Sith used it to bind their pets’ fates to their own.
Given her choice, Cara would’ve waited for Kahlan—but the Seeker would be beyond any reincarnation soon. She bent over him, lips parted slightly—
Kahlan strode through the hall, well-pleased with her interview with her sister. Dennee was pregnant—she’d have to tell Lord Rahl she was going to be an aunt.
Of course, in a way she was already an aunt, Kahlan mused—Cara’s son might not be bound to her by blood, but he was hers—she had fought for him. Sworn she would never bear Lord Rahl a Confessor son if he didn’t let the boy live.
Already, she’d given him a daughter—Kahlan wished she saw her more often.
Dennee’s pregnancy was making Kahlan weak, she decided. Longing for her children when she had other, more important concerns—their father’s.
At the thought of Lord Rahl, Kahlan’s lips curved upward into a smile. Time to get back to her homework.
At the threshold of her Training Room, however, Kahlan found an unconscious Denna. She kicked the other Mord’Sith contemptuously aside.
Denna had always been jealous of her. No doubt she feared Kahlan’s touch. Kahlan smirked contemptuously: she had no respect for those who cringed away from her because of her Confessor powers. Cowards.
She saw Cara bending over the Seeker’s body, and Kahlan’s heart beat faster—was Cara betraying her with Denna?
But no—Cara was with Lord Rahl, she wouldn’t have had time to scheme with Denna—and did this mean Lord Rahl was here?
Cara looked up at the same moment the Seeker’s eyes flashed open.
“I had…the strangest dream,” he said through cracked lips. “You were there,” he said to Kahlan. She stiffened. “You had…your hair down, and—we were trapped together—I…I think…” here his brow furrowed. “I’m your slave.”
Kahlan relaxed. Obviously this was just a new way her techniques were expressing themselves in the Seeker’s psyche. Nothing to worry about—probably a good sign.
She pulled Cara to her feet and indulged them both in an involved kiss hello. It had been too long…
At last Kahlan pulled away, and Cara sighed faintly. Kahlan smiled.
“Good work,” Cara said, nodding to the Seeker, who still lay on the floor. “You’re quick. Lord Rahl will be pleased.”
Kahlan’s blood heated even more at the mention of Lord Rahl.
“Speaking of which,” Cara said, smoothly bending down to get something from her saddlebag. “We are summoned.” And she tossed the glittering Rada’Han to Kahlan.
Kahlan caught it, grinning in earnest now, and twirled it expertly around her wrist.
“Mistress,” begged the Seeker. “How may I serve you?”
“Wait here for me,” Kahlan told him. “This could take awhile,” Cara smirked at her, “—but when I get back, we’ll have that talk with Lord Rahl. You’ll like that, won’t you?”
“I’ll like it if it pleases you, Mistress,” the Seeker assured her.
Kahlan laughed delightedly, put her arm around Cara’s waist, and strolled out to meet her Lord.
Darken Rahl was having a very good day. He’d never made a better decision than the day he sent the Mord’Sith to find a Confessor—his Confessor.
He beamed lazily at Cara and Kahlan, both cuddled together, naked save for Kahlan’s Rada’Han, in the center of his bed.
“Mistress Kahlan, you have broken the Seeker,” Darken paused, just to enjoy that statement. “Congratulations.”
“What of the Confessor, my Lord?” Cara asked. “What do you want done with her?”
“Hopefully nothing that involves moving,” purred Kahlan, giving herself the lie by stretching her arms over her head.
Darken smiled indulgently at her. The Confessor in question was his Kahlan’s sister, but that fact would gain her no clemency from either of them. He knew Cara would enjoy breaking her, but he had another plan in mind for the Confessor and her baby.
As much as he loved sharing his bed with Kahlan and Cara, he couldn’t help imagining the piquancy of doing so without her Rada’Han. But how?
He believed it was possible to make himself and Cara immune to Kahlan’s Confessor touch—and now he had just the right guinea pigs: the Seeker’s Confessor and her unborn child.
“Give her to Gillar,” Darken ordered. Cara rose, and he held up a hand, admiring her golden skin. “It can wait.”
And when he chose, Kahlan would bear him a Confessor heir. The Seeker, his little brother and now Kahlan’s slave, would declaim Darken’s leniency and goodness for all the people to hear. The Wizard, should he choose to try and rescue, too late, his erstwhile companions, would be no match for Darken’s Mord’Sith, led by his fearless First Mistress. Without the Seeker getting in his way, the Boxes of Orden would present little difficulty.
Life was good.
“Are you sure there’s nothing we can do?” Zedd asked desperately. Coming here, to Agaden Reach, had been his last hope.
“I’m sorry, Zeddicus,” Shota said, looking up from the water. “The Seeker is gone, a slave to That Woman.” Her expression said more clearly than words what she thought of the Mord’Sith who had taken Richard.
Zedd wanted to break down, to give up—without Richard, the world was surely doomed.
But this wasn’t the first time he’d lost everything. And he must go on, for the sake of the world. Rahl could not be allowed to put together the Boxes of Orden.
“What can we do?” Zedd asked.
“You must name another Seeker,” Shota said at once.
“I can’t,” Zedd protested. “Richard was our only hope.”
Shota shook her head, her eyes deep and serious as they gazed into his. “No; there is another.”
Extra! A few icons:
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Glad you like it!
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love Mord-Sith Kahlan she's sexy aw and with Darken yummmm and don't forget Cara:P
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Rahl/Kahlan/Cara--what's not to love? :D
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Soooooooo, this was hot. LOL And I approve of pet/puppy!Richard, especially to Kahlan. And I know Halfrek and Anya. *chuckles* Buffy was my very first fandom. :D So YAY FOR VENGEANCE DEMONS! Hee. Also, I find it amazing how Kahlan still cared for children and was still, you know... Kahlan. XD And yeah... Cara beating Denna.... I feel sorry for her.... she can have puppy!Richard now *nods*
Thank you for writing this! And I wish you a happy new year btw and a belated merry christmas ;)
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Buffy was my very first fandom. Me too! Still a big fan, actually...
I'm so glad you like it!
I wish you a happy new year btw and a belated merry christmas ;) You, too! Happy holidays!!
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Fascinating AU with D/K/C - and Cara's son lives at Kahlan's behest :)
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and Cara's son lives at Kahlan's behest :) This bit could be important, if I ever manage a sequel... :)