Love is Cruel, Chapter 6 of 13

[hrhrionastar]

Title: Love is Cruel: The Vampire
Pairing: Richard/Nicci (background Richard/Kahlan, Rahl/Kahlan/Cara)
Rating: PG-13
Length: 1318
Spoilers: whole series
Summary: Post-Tears, Richard wakes up to find he's not at the Pillars of Creation anymore...and someone very familiar is in the cell next door. Written for madmguillotine, on seekerrarepair.

 

The Vampire

Richard was alert, every sense straining his awareness. He slumped on the bench in his cell in an attitude of deceptive idleness. His conflicted thoughts and feelings were shoved to the back of his mind.

He hadn’t known that he could achieve this level of concentration without the Sword of Truth.

He was hunting.

This time, though, four Mord’Sith came instead of Nicci’s usual two. Richard felt his pulse race; so many! Did this mean Rahl was almost finished taking Nicci’s Han? He would kill her!

Four was too many—but it would have to be now. Richard set his jaw.

But the Mord’Sith stopped before his cell, instead of Nicci’s. Richard was surprised, though he thought he shouldn’t have been—hadn’t Rahl mentioned his blood yesterday?

Richard released his held breath; Nicci was safe, at least for the moment. He would wait until he stood before his evil brother.

But supposing Nicci tried the plan in his absence? Richard knew she would let them kill her before she backed down, once she had started. He didn’t like to think of her, lying like a broken doll in her cell, forgotten. Like all those with sorcerous power, Nicci was almost helpless when bound by a Rada’Han.

(This was one reason Richard hadn’t wanted his Han—he was afraid he would become dependent upon his powers instead of his wits, and the Sword of Truth.)

Richard gave Nicci a significant, warning look as the Mord’Sith dragged him away. Her stare was as impassive as always, and Richard thought again of how beautiful she had looked in death, in his dream.

Fear for her chased him through the corridors, until he was taken to a large room—some sort of magical laboratory—where Rahl waited. Anger boiled Richard’s blood.

“You,” he spat. “What have you done to my friends?”

“Richard, Richard,” sighed Rahl as the Mord’Sith chained Richard to the wall. “They’re not your friends—not anymore.”

Richard longed to wipe that smirk off Rahl’s face.

Out of the shadows, a woman stepped forward, prodded by a Mord’Sith. Long hair no longer smooth, Shota stared at Richard.

Richard stared back, instantly realizing Rahl must have managed to capture Shota as well—and that she was the witch Rahl was using to steal Nicci’s Han.

Though, logically, Richard couldn’t think why he didn’t just use a dacra like anyone else.

“Shota,” he protested, “you don’t have to do this.”

But she was empty-eyed, and though she looked horrified at the prospect of harming Richard, Shota nonetheless took his blood, murmuring strange words over it.

Rahl watched avidly, and said, conversationally, “The Rahl Bond only attaches itself to those already possessed of powerful magic. But I have enough of Nicci’s Han now to attempt this ritual. Of course, if it fails, we’ll simply have to try again…bleeding you will be a pleasure, dear brother.”

Richard felt faint, but he had enough strength to demand, “What have you done to Nicci?” Until he spoke, he was sure the name out of his mouth would be Kahlan’s.

“Ah, yes, her Han is your Han, I keep forgetting,” drawled Rahl. “And how fitting, that your Han—or at least a good fraction of it—is now bound irrevocably to me. Quite an ingenious ritual, if I do say so myself—it may be slower than a dacra, but I will have all her Han in the end—and even a dacra won’t be able to take it from me. Every since you killed me, I’ve wanted something a little more…permanent, than blood.”

Richard wondered if Rahl planned to kill Nicci when he had what he wanted from her, and asked himself, furiously, why he wasn’t more worried about Kahlan. Yet somehow, his senses told him Rahl meant less harm to Kahlan than he did to Nicci, to Richard, and to the world.

Richard’s eyes drooped from loss of blood and exhaustion, when Shota at last handed a cup full of Richard’s blood and other strange magical substances—Richard didn’t want to imagine them—to Darken Rahl.

Smirking, Rahl toasted Richard, threw his head back and drank the concoction. Richard watched in helpless, disgusted horror.

Rahl didn’t even have the decency to make a face. Richard supposed vaguely that he must be used to drinking blood, and was then horrified anew.

He glared at Rahl.

“Well,” said Rahl, “Time to test it—oh, take him back to the dungeon,” he added to one of the Mord’Sith. “He’ll be nice company for Nicci.”

“Yes, my Lord,” said the Mord’Sith. She beckoned to her Sisters, who almost had to support Richard the entire way. He was feeling faint—when they reached his cell, all he could do was assure himself that Nicci was alive, and then fall into a deeper sleep than he could have imagined possible, trapped by his villainous brother.

When he woke, it was with a splitting headache and a ravenous appetite. Richard ate the food he hadn’t earlier in the day, and sank back down on the bench. “Nicci?” he asked.

“They should come soon, with the evening rations,” she informed him matter-of-factly.

Richard nodded, remembered she couldn’t see him, clutched his head in his hands in fresh pain, and growled, “Shota…”

“Mmm?” said Nicci.

“The witch Rahl is forcing to help him,” Richard explained. “After all that vague prophecy talk about how I was against the Creator…”

Nicci was silent, and, too late, Richard realized the Creator might be a touchy subject for her.

On the other hand, if she were still working for the Keeper—but no. Richard was sure he would know. Nicci knew better than that, now, anyway.

Didn’t she?

He was horrified at his lack of horror that he didn’t even know whose side Nicci was on—and a little surprised that the question hadn’t occurred to him before.

But the Mord’Sith were here—“What’s the matter?” Richard drawled, as the two of them came closer. “Are you so frightened of the Seeker that you can’t even look me in the eyes?”

“Insolence!” the Mord’Sith with sharper features hissed.

“No, leave it be, Lord Rahl said—“ the sweeter one protested, but the sharper Mord’Sith shook her hand off her arm.

“Not this time.”

Richard watched her unlock the door of his cell, and waited. Her more hesitant friend made a disapproving ‘tchah’ noise, and walked away. Richard, rejoicing at this bit of luck, waited until the sound of her boots had faded, taking several burning jabs from the agiel.

Screaming in pain took little effort—in fact, Richard thought wryly, no effort at all—but as the Mord’Sith raised her agiel to strike again, he grabbed her wrist and twisted the agiel out of her fingers.

Ignoring the pain, and taking advantage of the Mord’Sith’s moment of stunned shock, Richard hit her on the temple with the hilt of her own agiel, and she crumpled to the floor, unconscious.

Richard held on to her agiel, grimly calculating that he might need it, and strode out of the cell—it had been foolish of her not to even close the door.

He hurried to Nicci’s cell, next to his, anxiously checking to see if she was alright—“The key!” Nicci hissed at him. “Before the other one comes back!”

Right, of course. Richard unearthed a key chain from the Mord’Sith’s pocket, shut the cell door on her, and released Nicci.

She stepped into the hall, but gave him such a pointed look that Richard knew immediately what she wanted; he unlocked her Rada’Han, relieved the Mord’Sith had actually been carrying the key, and shoved the bunch of keys into his pocket, for when they went to free Kahlan, Cara, and Zedd.

That was when Richard felt Nicci’s small, cool fingers curling around his neck, and looked up just in time to see her eyes swirl to black.

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