Legend of the Seeker fic: Lord Rahl
Jan. 9th, 2010 11:16 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
seriousficTitle: Lord Rahl
Fandom: Legend of the Seeker
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,299
Characters/Pairings: Richard/Kahlan, Cara
Summary: Richard grew up.
Most mornings, the first thing Kahlan felt upon waking was a chill. Her entire body felt cold, but it was really just her neck. No matter how long she wore it, the Rada’han never seemed to warm to her flesh.
But this morning was different. This morning, she woke up to warmth. The familiar hand, the familiar grip. It laid on her hip like a perched bird, not intruding enough to be uncomfortable, but just intimate enough to make a part of her leap in joy.
She buried it. “Have you come to rescue me?” she asked Richard.
He took his hand back. “There’s no need for sarcasm.”
The room, her room, didn’t look like a prison. The bed was softer than gossamer. The walls were lined with books from the furthest reaches of the Midlands. Every night, the cavernous room was filled with a new song from a new musician.
Kahlan hadn’t left the room in ten years.
Richard got up from his intricately carved chair. He’d sat there for twenty minutes, just watching her rest. Then her face had twisted with a nightmare and he’d woken her. He’d been afraid it was him.
“I brought you something from my travels.” Richard lifted a Vallean lamp off the ground, showing it to Kahlan. It was a beautiful blend of colors, twisting around each other as they followed the natural curve of the material.
Kahlan barely glanced at it. “Is the previous owner still alive?”
Richard got up and angrily paced, his heavy footfalls drowning in the carpet. Kahlan hated looking at him sometimes, his body seemingly trapped inside those red robes, the D’Haran emblems like prison brands. But if he was with her, he wasn’t putting his enemies to the sword.
Finally, Richard calmed, and set the lamp on a dresser. “Do you know that in the Dragon Corps, the greatest honor is to be assigned to your guard?”
“I’m flattered,” she replied with an apathy it was disturbingly easy to summon.
“I know you won’t agree with me. Things will never be as they were. But please don’t hate me.”
“You trap me in here. You take away my gift. You butcher millions…”
“I’ve saved millions!” he shouted suddenly. “That’s why you made me the Seeker, isn’t it? Or would you rather I set down the Sword of Truth while millions suffer under Jagang’s yolk?”
“How many did you free when you sacked Aydindril?”
“We must present a unified front. Aydindril was making itself a threat to all the Midlands. I only did what I had to.”
Kahlan sat up, holding her head. Richard automatically moved to comfort her. He stopped himself, his closed fists drooping by his thighs. Kahlan got out of bed on the side away from Richard and put on her morning robe, pulling it tightly around herself. It didn’t make her any warmer. “I’m tired of arguing. The more you talk, the less of you I recognize.”
Richard stood there a moment, tasting her words. “You look lovely,” he said, very quiet now.
Kahlan wrapped a gray hair around her finger before pulling it out. “Not as lovely as I used to.”
“That seems to be the mood these days.” He stood up. “A feast is being held in honor of my return. I’d be honored if you attended.”
“I must respectfully decline.”
“Then the servants will bring you your food as usual.” He made for the door, not looking back.
“Richard,” Kahlan called, and he froze. It’d been a long time since she’d called him anything but Lord Rahl. “If I asked you to take my Rada’han off… if I swore not to confess you… would you trust me?”
“Yes,” he answered without hesitation. He looked at her with cold eyes. “That’s why I gave the key to Cara.”
***
When he walked out, Cara and another Mord’Sith were waiting to take up his guard. Richard didn’t recognize the other Mord’Sith. She was one of the young ones, the Mord’Sith created during his reign.
He’d needed to replenish their ranks. There were missions only a Mord’Sith could accomplish. So he’d told Cara to rebuild the sisterhood. They didn’t rip children from their parents anymore, of course. But there were always orphans, unwanted children, children whose parents simply couldn’t feed them. In the Mord’Sith, at least they had a chance.
Richard never asked how much Cara paid fathers for their daughters.
Alone in all his armies, Cara walked at his side instead of trailing behind him. “You should give her over to me. In a few days, I’d have her begging your forgiveness.”
Richard stopped to look at her. “She wouldn’t break.” He walked on.
“Everyone breaks,” Cara said before catching up to him. There were battle plans to be drawn up and tributes to accept, but Cara knew not to bother her lord with that after a visit to Kahlan. It drew unseemly emotions.
Together, they stalked through the People’s Palace, picking up speed like they were trying to outrun a fell beast, until finally Richard was flying up a spiral staircase. Cara left her sister behind with a look and followed him onto the roof.
Richard had discarded the robes of a war wizard, leaving him in the armor he wore at all times to protect himself from assassination attempts. The last had left a jagged scar on his chest. He sat on the battlements and stared out at his land, fingering the spot where he was now protected. “Tell me it was all worth it. Tell me I never killed someone’s father. Tell me I never made a young man swear vengeance.”
Cara resisted the urge to slouch against the wall. Even after all her years with Richard, a part of her was still bored by this introspection. Another, larger part feared it. “She still loves you. What else matters?”
He wheeled on her, quietly furious. “What matters is that she sees. When all the axes are lowered and all the shields rent, when the Imperial Order is forever shattered and all the world is united in peace, will she see that it was necessary? Will she know I was right?” Richard’s anger burnt down to agony, that peculiar hindsight that only let him see his failures. Cara considered that her enemy.
Stripping off her glove, she approached him like a skittish animal. He said nothing as she laid her hand on his face, feeling the pale scars that time had made nearly invisible. They were like marks on the side of a prison cell, counting wars instead of time. Banelings and Mriswith and the Blood of the Fold. All gone now.
“I miss Zedd,” he said simply.
“There are others,” Cara insisted, her voice softening like it only could for him. Her lord. “People who owe their lives to you. People who respect you. People who love you.” Her hand circled to the back of his neck like a collar and pulled him to her. “People like me.”
He didn’t resist as she pulled his armor from him, and when her lips traveled his body, it didn’t take long for him to respond and her leathers were fairly ripped from her body. And if he said Kahlan’s name in the heat of passion, she considered it a compliment.
And across the fortress, Kahlan laid awake in bed, still trying to get used to the chill of the Rada’han. She hadn’t lost hope, and that was a day’s victory. Some day, Richard would come to his senses. He would see what he’d done to the woman he loved and he would weep. And she would forgive him, because she would be so happy to have him back, and the war would end, and they would all be at peace.
Someday.
Fandom: Legend of the Seeker
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,299
Characters/Pairings: Richard/Kahlan, Cara
Summary: Richard grew up.
Most mornings, the first thing Kahlan felt upon waking was a chill. Her entire body felt cold, but it was really just her neck. No matter how long she wore it, the Rada’han never seemed to warm to her flesh.
But this morning was different. This morning, she woke up to warmth. The familiar hand, the familiar grip. It laid on her hip like a perched bird, not intruding enough to be uncomfortable, but just intimate enough to make a part of her leap in joy.
She buried it. “Have you come to rescue me?” she asked Richard.
He took his hand back. “There’s no need for sarcasm.”
The room, her room, didn’t look like a prison. The bed was softer than gossamer. The walls were lined with books from the furthest reaches of the Midlands. Every night, the cavernous room was filled with a new song from a new musician.
Kahlan hadn’t left the room in ten years.
Richard got up from his intricately carved chair. He’d sat there for twenty minutes, just watching her rest. Then her face had twisted with a nightmare and he’d woken her. He’d been afraid it was him.
“I brought you something from my travels.” Richard lifted a Vallean lamp off the ground, showing it to Kahlan. It was a beautiful blend of colors, twisting around each other as they followed the natural curve of the material.
Kahlan barely glanced at it. “Is the previous owner still alive?”
Richard got up and angrily paced, his heavy footfalls drowning in the carpet. Kahlan hated looking at him sometimes, his body seemingly trapped inside those red robes, the D’Haran emblems like prison brands. But if he was with her, he wasn’t putting his enemies to the sword.
Finally, Richard calmed, and set the lamp on a dresser. “Do you know that in the Dragon Corps, the greatest honor is to be assigned to your guard?”
“I’m flattered,” she replied with an apathy it was disturbingly easy to summon.
“I know you won’t agree with me. Things will never be as they were. But please don’t hate me.”
“You trap me in here. You take away my gift. You butcher millions…”
“I’ve saved millions!” he shouted suddenly. “That’s why you made me the Seeker, isn’t it? Or would you rather I set down the Sword of Truth while millions suffer under Jagang’s yolk?”
“How many did you free when you sacked Aydindril?”
“We must present a unified front. Aydindril was making itself a threat to all the Midlands. I only did what I had to.”
Kahlan sat up, holding her head. Richard automatically moved to comfort her. He stopped himself, his closed fists drooping by his thighs. Kahlan got out of bed on the side away from Richard and put on her morning robe, pulling it tightly around herself. It didn’t make her any warmer. “I’m tired of arguing. The more you talk, the less of you I recognize.”
Richard stood there a moment, tasting her words. “You look lovely,” he said, very quiet now.
Kahlan wrapped a gray hair around her finger before pulling it out. “Not as lovely as I used to.”
“That seems to be the mood these days.” He stood up. “A feast is being held in honor of my return. I’d be honored if you attended.”
“I must respectfully decline.”
“Then the servants will bring you your food as usual.” He made for the door, not looking back.
“Richard,” Kahlan called, and he froze. It’d been a long time since she’d called him anything but Lord Rahl. “If I asked you to take my Rada’han off… if I swore not to confess you… would you trust me?”
“Yes,” he answered without hesitation. He looked at her with cold eyes. “That’s why I gave the key to Cara.”
***
When he walked out, Cara and another Mord’Sith were waiting to take up his guard. Richard didn’t recognize the other Mord’Sith. She was one of the young ones, the Mord’Sith created during his reign.
He’d needed to replenish their ranks. There were missions only a Mord’Sith could accomplish. So he’d told Cara to rebuild the sisterhood. They didn’t rip children from their parents anymore, of course. But there were always orphans, unwanted children, children whose parents simply couldn’t feed them. In the Mord’Sith, at least they had a chance.
Richard never asked how much Cara paid fathers for their daughters.
Alone in all his armies, Cara walked at his side instead of trailing behind him. “You should give her over to me. In a few days, I’d have her begging your forgiveness.”
Richard stopped to look at her. “She wouldn’t break.” He walked on.
“Everyone breaks,” Cara said before catching up to him. There were battle plans to be drawn up and tributes to accept, but Cara knew not to bother her lord with that after a visit to Kahlan. It drew unseemly emotions.
Together, they stalked through the People’s Palace, picking up speed like they were trying to outrun a fell beast, until finally Richard was flying up a spiral staircase. Cara left her sister behind with a look and followed him onto the roof.
Richard had discarded the robes of a war wizard, leaving him in the armor he wore at all times to protect himself from assassination attempts. The last had left a jagged scar on his chest. He sat on the battlements and stared out at his land, fingering the spot where he was now protected. “Tell me it was all worth it. Tell me I never killed someone’s father. Tell me I never made a young man swear vengeance.”
Cara resisted the urge to slouch against the wall. Even after all her years with Richard, a part of her was still bored by this introspection. Another, larger part feared it. “She still loves you. What else matters?”
He wheeled on her, quietly furious. “What matters is that she sees. When all the axes are lowered and all the shields rent, when the Imperial Order is forever shattered and all the world is united in peace, will she see that it was necessary? Will she know I was right?” Richard’s anger burnt down to agony, that peculiar hindsight that only let him see his failures. Cara considered that her enemy.
Stripping off her glove, she approached him like a skittish animal. He said nothing as she laid her hand on his face, feeling the pale scars that time had made nearly invisible. They were like marks on the side of a prison cell, counting wars instead of time. Banelings and Mriswith and the Blood of the Fold. All gone now.
“I miss Zedd,” he said simply.
“There are others,” Cara insisted, her voice softening like it only could for him. Her lord. “People who owe their lives to you. People who respect you. People who love you.” Her hand circled to the back of his neck like a collar and pulled him to her. “People like me.”
He didn’t resist as she pulled his armor from him, and when her lips traveled his body, it didn’t take long for him to respond and her leathers were fairly ripped from her body. And if he said Kahlan’s name in the heat of passion, she considered it a compliment.
And across the fortress, Kahlan laid awake in bed, still trying to get used to the chill of the Rada’han. She hadn’t lost hope, and that was a day’s victory. Some day, Richard would come to his senses. He would see what he’d done to the woman he loved and he would weep. And she would forgive him, because she would be so happy to have him back, and the war would end, and they would all be at peace.
Someday.
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no subject
Date: 2010-01-09 05:38 pm (UTC)Thanks for this!
no subject
Date: 2010-01-09 05:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-09 05:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-09 08:56 pm (UTC)less than an hour to the new episode.
no subject
Date: 2010-01-09 09:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-10 01:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-10 10:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-17 03:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-18 04:15 pm (UTC)Owwwwch.
Date: 2010-02-21 11:11 pm (UTC):-)
Well done...
Date: 2010-05-24 03:02 am (UTC)This look into the 'what if' future perfectly illustrates that old adage "One man's terrorist is another man's freedom fighter."
Nicely done. Sad, and moving and very plausible.
Absolute power corrupts absolutely. It's a flaw in the human psyche.
D
no subject
Date: 2010-05-30 04:17 am (UTC)