LotS fic: Alone Again (Cara/Dahlia)
May. 18th, 2010 06:15 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
seriousficTitle: Alone Again
Fandom: Legend of the Seeker
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2,394
Characters/Pairings: Cara/Dahlia
Spoilers: 2x21 Unbroken
Summary: Cara would have to run into Dahlia after Richard was talking about weddings…
General Trimack's Ale and Whorery was a misnamed tavern. First off, it was not affiliated in anyway with the late General Trimack. Second, there were no whores. Third, it served meat pies, chicken, and tea, not just ale. Fourth, whorery was not a word.
With dusk here, the light came from candles. It lent the space an intimate feel, which Cara felt was unwarranted. She thought it would be hard for even Richard and Kahlan to feel romantic with a trio of backslapping, burping lumberjacks in the next booth over.
"So for the wedding, we were thinking nothing too ostentatious, but there will be definitely be a very large cake."
Hard, but not impossible.
Ever since Zedd had told them of their nuptials in the other world, they were aglow at how fated their love was. Meanwhile, Cara had to put up with the knowledge that she had narrowly avoided being a housewife. She had always thought that if she hadn't been Mord'Sith, she would've been a general in the D'Haran army. At least a captain.
"Kahlan wants Zedd to give her away and you can be maid of honor, of course," Richard assured her.
"Or would you rather be flower girl?" Kahlan teased.
Richard, not being well-versed in sisterly bonding, swiveled to Cara as though he half-expected her to launch herself at Kahlan for the insult. Cara just rolled her eyes.
"Unless there's some weird D'Haran ritual I don't know about," Richard concluded.
"Well, Kahlan will have to wrestle a shadrin to prove she's a worthy bride," Cara said.
The lovers exchanged a glance.
"That was a joke."
Kahlan, at least, laughed.
The church bell made everyone look up. Cara knew they were used to call worshippers to prayer, but on days when the church wasn't in session, the bells were used to warn the townspeople of Darken Rahl's press gangs.
"What is it?" Richard asked.
"D'Harans." In a moment, Cara was at the window. Outside, it was just light enough to make out the formation the riders were approaching in. "Mord'Sith."
"Mistress Dahlia," Kahlan muttered.
She had been on their trail since Beckoncliff, another piece played in the game between the Rahl brothers.
"If they're going to search the village, they'll have to disperse," Richard said. "We'll hide out here and ambush them, then attack the main group. With a little luck, we can take them out without losing anyone."
When he said 'anyone', he meant the townspeople. "No," Cara said, and instantly worried if she'd spoken too swiftly, too passionately. "They're after Zedd. You hide him. I can handle Dahlia." Richard was unsure. She could see it in his eyes. "We'll get to Rahl soon and when he dies, the Mord'Sith's loyalty will transfer to you. Dahlia will serve you."
'Richard," Kahlan said, "how many times would we be dead if we'd killed Cara when she served Darken Rahl?"
After a moment, Richard nodded. "Stall her as long as you can. If you need help, scream. We'll be there for you."
Cara nodded tightly. Of course, they couldn't leave it at that, so Kahlan gave her a quick hug. "Be safe," the Confessor whispered.
"Worried I won't make it to the wedding?" Cara returned coolly.
Kahlan smiled and left with Richard. The lumberjacks were breaking up chairs to use the legs as weapons, so Cara sat while she still could. Her Agiels waited in her lap.
In war, you had to dehumanize the enemy. Cara recognized that's what had been happening when she was taught to regard all people as either Mord'Sith or not. But Dahlia was very much Mord'Sith.
There were candles lighting each table; their flames momentarily darted for the door. It creaked open and heavy bootsteps hammered the floor. Dahlia looked well for a dead woman. One of the Mord'Sith Richard had only knocked unconscious (always the soft heart when it came to women) had woken and been able to revive her. Cara wasn't sure how she felt about that.
Dahlia and three other sisters diffused through the tavern, checking the corners for threats, sizing up the patrons. Dahlia went to the bar and made the universal gesture for a drink. Cara knew she'd been spotted. Otherwise, Dahlia would be on guard.
Cara drank, then dipped two fingers into the wine and ran them along the lip of her glass. The sound got Dahlia’s attention. Leathers stretching over her like water being poured, she swaggered up to Cara, who sucked the wine off her fingers. “Hello.”
“Hello yourself.” She lifted her glass to Cara. “To the Lord Rahl.”
Cara silently joined her toast. They drank, eying each other the whole time. Dahlia grabbed a chair out from underneath someone at a nearby table and straddled it, sitting at the head of Cara's table.
"How can I help you, Dahlia?" Cara asked
“I want you to get down on your knees and…” she tilted her head to the side. “Beg. But first, buy me a drink?"
Cara signaled the barmaid. Trembling, she approached. "Hot tea," the Mord'Sith ordered. "Wine for her."
"And I'll have a steak," Dahlia said. Her eyes turned to Cara. "We can share."
It didn't take long for it to arrive. The bartender had some in the brick oven. And as they waited, Cara's eyes never left Dahlia's, ignoring the Mord'Sith turning the tavern upside-down. Dahlia's eyes never left hers either.
"You won't find them," Cara said.
Dahlia's steak arrived and she cut into it. Cara watched the motion of the dagger, waiting for the inevitable.
“You used your Agiel on her,” Cara said. Dahlia raised an eyebrow, trying to recall. “Kahlan. In Amphil.”
“You would’ve done the same if it would accomplish your objective.”
“No. I would do worse.”
“I know. I’ve been hearing of your exploits. They're scintillating," Dahlia drawled with dark amusement. "Is it true you infiltrated the Margrave of Rothenberg's castle as a princess? Now, did you enjoy playing dress-up? The Seeker's pet Mord'Sith…”
“Do you enjoy it when the Lord Rahl touches you?" Cara regretted it immediately. It wasn't a fair question.
Dahlia popped a morsel of steak into her mouth and began to chew. Cara watched patiently, observing her teeth tearing into the tender meat. She was like a kid at the zoo, awed and seemingly inspired.
The man whose chair Dahlia had stolen, having drunken too much earlier, put a hand on her shoulder to complain. She grabbed it and calmly flipped him on his back. After the impact, the room got even quieter. “Some people never learn. Do you get my subtle parallel? Watch your back, Cara.”
“I would rather watch yours.”
Dahlia speared another piece of steak, tines striking through to the plate. “Listen closely. This, right now, our conversation… it’s as pleasant as it ever will be. My Lord Rahl will retake D'Hara. Your friends will be hunted down and slaughtered. So let’s get something straight, while we’re having this polite little… tête-à-tête. Everything that’s come before? That was—playtime. That was fun. This is business. If I were you, I’d run.”
“If you were me, you’d be standing in front of a mirror," Cara grinned devilishly, "wearing a lot less than you are now."
Dahlia wiped her mouth off. “Don’t get in my way.”
”Or else?”
“Or else.” She stood to leave.
Cara was instantly in front of her. “Or else what?”
The Mord'Sith blocking the exits began to close in.
Dahlia picked up her wineglass and finished it off, breathing in the scent like perfume and then sipping away the liquor, holding the taste, considering. Cara found herself drawn to her face, her expression, as her lips parted and let a sound of satisfaction undulate out. She felt sure this was the prelude to some violent action, one she could read off Dahlia's eyes.
The Mord'Sith closed in around Cara like jackals around a corpse. One sister in front, one to the side, one behind her with a crossbow drawn. It wasn’t fear Dahlia saw in Cara’s eyes as she noted them. It was gleeful anticipation.
"I'll give all of you one chance," Cara said. "Swear allegiance to Richard Rahl, now, or I can't guarantee you won't come to lasting harm." She couldn't keep the excitement out of her tone.
“Who are you to threaten us?" a Mord'Sith demanded, one of the younger ones. "You don’t have the Seeker watching your back.”
“You’re wrong. I don’t have Richard holding me back.”
The waitress arrived with Cara’s piping-hot tea. She took it, thanked her, and threw it over her shoulder into the face of the Mord'Sith directly behind her.
Violence was under Cara’s skin and behind her eyeballs, more of an effort to turn off than on. It didn't matter if it had been put there or if it had always been there, a primordial instinct. Sometimes, if she didn’t let it out, she thought she would combust. Nothing left but ashes.
The scalded Mord'Sith tried to aim a bead through blinded eyes as Cara swept forward, fist cocked for the sister in back. Dahlia did as her eyes had promised, giving Cara room to play.
The Mord'Sith in front of Cara. A punch rattled her brain, ricocheted off her skull into a throat-chop, which reversed into an elbow strike. Three Mord'Sith went down. Cara wasn't one of them.
The sister off to the side, clutching her throat, was either more experienced or just lucky. Cara went to finish her off and they traded parries blindingly fast. Cara took a boxing combo to her ribs for a hand wrapped around her sister’s throat. The Mord'Sith gagged, hands instinctually going to her throat. That doomed her. Cara grabbed her by the braid and slammed her head into a table so fast it took a chunk out of the tabletop. She hit the floor, bleeding from the scalp. Cara stepped over her, then mule-kicked a heel into her ribs. She should've took the offer.
The scalded Mord'Sith’s eyes and crossbow followed the choked sister down. Cara didn’t let either back up. She grabbed the crossbow by the prod and pulled it forward. The Mord'Sith went along for the ride. She pitched, slipped, and Cara’s knee met her on the way down. It broke her jaw. Unconsciousness relinquished the crossbow to Cara.
Dahlia stood back, idly toying with her neckline, as if Cara’s victory were less remarkable to her than the slight over-warmth of the tavern. “I’m so thrilled. They lasted much longer than Denna's group would have. Our new training regime is working.”
Cara aimed the crossbow at Dahlia’s head. “Your turn. Get up.”
Dahlia ran a finger up and down the bolt pointed at her before answering. “I’d better do as you say. After all, you have an arrow.”
She got to her feet. Cara backed up a few feet. She tossed the crossbow aside. Pulled out her Agiels. "Fight me."
”I’m unarmed.”
“I know you better than that.”
Dahlia didn’t say anything. She ran her hands down her body, pinning the leather to her skin. Cara watched her nipples and the lines of her abs flash briefly.
With angry energy, Cara took one of her Agiels and slapped it down on Dahlia's plate. Her wineglass fell over and the plate cracked.
“Pick it up. You know you want to.”
“Right here? In front of everyone?”
Cara turned around, offering a clean shot at her back, as if she couldn’t even stand to look at Dahlia. “Maybe this is more your speed.”
“Nice view, but as long as you’re pointed in that direction, you might as well start marching.”
Cara turned back to her, teeth gritted. Forced herself to take a deep breath. She put away her Agiels. Then she was leaning over Dahlia, her hands slapping down on the chair’s armrests.
“Don't you want to settle this?”
"I won't give you an excuse."
Horse hooves were beating in the distance. Cara wasn’t looking anywhere but Dahlia, but Darken Rahl's disciple could see the way her ears prickled.
"Why don't you just kill me before I kill you? It would make things so much simpler," Dahlia said. She watched the tension in Cara's arms as the blonde pushed herself off the chair and away from her.
“You used to be so much more fun,” Cara told her.
In no particular hurry, Cara walked away, pushing over a standing Mord'Sith as she went. The backdoor swung behind her. Dahlia signaled for a refill as General Meiffert burst in. What was left of the Dragon Corps followed him, swords held firm.
“You’re too late,” Dahlia informed them. “It was only Cara."
Meiffert looked at the fallen Mord'Sith littering the floor. “One woman?” He glanced at Dahlia. “You’re sweating.”
Dahlia wiped her brow. “No, I’m not.”
***
Cara met back up with the others. They'd managed to evade the quads and retrieve Zedd from the Library of Nossis, where he'd found the text he was looking for. They were one step closer to putting an end to Darken Rahl, once and for all.
After an evening's uneventful ride, Cara asked Kahlan to spar, and with an understanding nod, the Mother Confessor drew her daggers. It took the edge off, even if the closest Cara came to satisfaction was one particularly brutal slam Kahlan unleashed on her.
It shouldn't matter to her that Dahlia was playing some sort of game with her, denying her even the modest nostalgia of fighting like they had once done, even if that was only for sport and this was real as blood could make it. All that should've mattered was destroying Rahl. And Cara was a better Mord'Sith than Dahlia. It shouldn't have mattered if she died, for the Lord Rahl would still have Cara to protect him.
But if Cara died putting her Agiel in Darken Rahl's heart, and that placed Dahlia in Richard's care… it seemed like a fair trade.
Cara put Kahlan on her back, Agiel at her throat. But not touching. It was a courtesy she paid those she respected. "If Dahlia swore allegiance to Richard, would you take her in?"
Even for someone as versed in emotions as Kahlan, that didn't make sense. But then, she wasn't Mord'Sith. "Of course, Cara."
"Thank you." Cara got up, hiding her Agiels back in her belt. She didn't feel like fighting anymore.
Fandom: Legend of the Seeker
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2,394
Characters/Pairings: Cara/Dahlia
Spoilers: 2x21 Unbroken
Summary: Cara would have to run into Dahlia after Richard was talking about weddings…
General Trimack's Ale and Whorery was a misnamed tavern. First off, it was not affiliated in anyway with the late General Trimack. Second, there were no whores. Third, it served meat pies, chicken, and tea, not just ale. Fourth, whorery was not a word.
With dusk here, the light came from candles. It lent the space an intimate feel, which Cara felt was unwarranted. She thought it would be hard for even Richard and Kahlan to feel romantic with a trio of backslapping, burping lumberjacks in the next booth over.
"So for the wedding, we were thinking nothing too ostentatious, but there will be definitely be a very large cake."
Hard, but not impossible.
Ever since Zedd had told them of their nuptials in the other world, they were aglow at how fated their love was. Meanwhile, Cara had to put up with the knowledge that she had narrowly avoided being a housewife. She had always thought that if she hadn't been Mord'Sith, she would've been a general in the D'Haran army. At least a captain.
"Kahlan wants Zedd to give her away and you can be maid of honor, of course," Richard assured her.
"Or would you rather be flower girl?" Kahlan teased.
Richard, not being well-versed in sisterly bonding, swiveled to Cara as though he half-expected her to launch herself at Kahlan for the insult. Cara just rolled her eyes.
"Unless there's some weird D'Haran ritual I don't know about," Richard concluded.
"Well, Kahlan will have to wrestle a shadrin to prove she's a worthy bride," Cara said.
The lovers exchanged a glance.
"That was a joke."
Kahlan, at least, laughed.
The church bell made everyone look up. Cara knew they were used to call worshippers to prayer, but on days when the church wasn't in session, the bells were used to warn the townspeople of Darken Rahl's press gangs.
"What is it?" Richard asked.
"D'Harans." In a moment, Cara was at the window. Outside, it was just light enough to make out the formation the riders were approaching in. "Mord'Sith."
"Mistress Dahlia," Kahlan muttered.
She had been on their trail since Beckoncliff, another piece played in the game between the Rahl brothers.
"If they're going to search the village, they'll have to disperse," Richard said. "We'll hide out here and ambush them, then attack the main group. With a little luck, we can take them out without losing anyone."
When he said 'anyone', he meant the townspeople. "No," Cara said, and instantly worried if she'd spoken too swiftly, too passionately. "They're after Zedd. You hide him. I can handle Dahlia." Richard was unsure. She could see it in his eyes. "We'll get to Rahl soon and when he dies, the Mord'Sith's loyalty will transfer to you. Dahlia will serve you."
'Richard," Kahlan said, "how many times would we be dead if we'd killed Cara when she served Darken Rahl?"
After a moment, Richard nodded. "Stall her as long as you can. If you need help, scream. We'll be there for you."
Cara nodded tightly. Of course, they couldn't leave it at that, so Kahlan gave her a quick hug. "Be safe," the Confessor whispered.
"Worried I won't make it to the wedding?" Cara returned coolly.
Kahlan smiled and left with Richard. The lumberjacks were breaking up chairs to use the legs as weapons, so Cara sat while she still could. Her Agiels waited in her lap.
In war, you had to dehumanize the enemy. Cara recognized that's what had been happening when she was taught to regard all people as either Mord'Sith or not. But Dahlia was very much Mord'Sith.
There were candles lighting each table; their flames momentarily darted for the door. It creaked open and heavy bootsteps hammered the floor. Dahlia looked well for a dead woman. One of the Mord'Sith Richard had only knocked unconscious (always the soft heart when it came to women) had woken and been able to revive her. Cara wasn't sure how she felt about that.
Dahlia and three other sisters diffused through the tavern, checking the corners for threats, sizing up the patrons. Dahlia went to the bar and made the universal gesture for a drink. Cara knew she'd been spotted. Otherwise, Dahlia would be on guard.
Cara drank, then dipped two fingers into the wine and ran them along the lip of her glass. The sound got Dahlia’s attention. Leathers stretching over her like water being poured, she swaggered up to Cara, who sucked the wine off her fingers. “Hello.”
“Hello yourself.” She lifted her glass to Cara. “To the Lord Rahl.”
Cara silently joined her toast. They drank, eying each other the whole time. Dahlia grabbed a chair out from underneath someone at a nearby table and straddled it, sitting at the head of Cara's table.
"How can I help you, Dahlia?" Cara asked
“I want you to get down on your knees and…” she tilted her head to the side. “Beg. But first, buy me a drink?"
Cara signaled the barmaid. Trembling, she approached. "Hot tea," the Mord'Sith ordered. "Wine for her."
"And I'll have a steak," Dahlia said. Her eyes turned to Cara. "We can share."
It didn't take long for it to arrive. The bartender had some in the brick oven. And as they waited, Cara's eyes never left Dahlia's, ignoring the Mord'Sith turning the tavern upside-down. Dahlia's eyes never left hers either.
"You won't find them," Cara said.
Dahlia's steak arrived and she cut into it. Cara watched the motion of the dagger, waiting for the inevitable.
“You used your Agiel on her,” Cara said. Dahlia raised an eyebrow, trying to recall. “Kahlan. In Amphil.”
“You would’ve done the same if it would accomplish your objective.”
“No. I would do worse.”
“I know. I’ve been hearing of your exploits. They're scintillating," Dahlia drawled with dark amusement. "Is it true you infiltrated the Margrave of Rothenberg's castle as a princess? Now, did you enjoy playing dress-up? The Seeker's pet Mord'Sith…”
“Do you enjoy it when the Lord Rahl touches you?" Cara regretted it immediately. It wasn't a fair question.
Dahlia popped a morsel of steak into her mouth and began to chew. Cara watched patiently, observing her teeth tearing into the tender meat. She was like a kid at the zoo, awed and seemingly inspired.
The man whose chair Dahlia had stolen, having drunken too much earlier, put a hand on her shoulder to complain. She grabbed it and calmly flipped him on his back. After the impact, the room got even quieter. “Some people never learn. Do you get my subtle parallel? Watch your back, Cara.”
“I would rather watch yours.”
Dahlia speared another piece of steak, tines striking through to the plate. “Listen closely. This, right now, our conversation… it’s as pleasant as it ever will be. My Lord Rahl will retake D'Hara. Your friends will be hunted down and slaughtered. So let’s get something straight, while we’re having this polite little… tête-à-tête. Everything that’s come before? That was—playtime. That was fun. This is business. If I were you, I’d run.”
“If you were me, you’d be standing in front of a mirror," Cara grinned devilishly, "wearing a lot less than you are now."
Dahlia wiped her mouth off. “Don’t get in my way.”
”Or else?”
“Or else.” She stood to leave.
Cara was instantly in front of her. “Or else what?”
The Mord'Sith blocking the exits began to close in.
Dahlia picked up her wineglass and finished it off, breathing in the scent like perfume and then sipping away the liquor, holding the taste, considering. Cara found herself drawn to her face, her expression, as her lips parted and let a sound of satisfaction undulate out. She felt sure this was the prelude to some violent action, one she could read off Dahlia's eyes.
The Mord'Sith closed in around Cara like jackals around a corpse. One sister in front, one to the side, one behind her with a crossbow drawn. It wasn’t fear Dahlia saw in Cara’s eyes as she noted them. It was gleeful anticipation.
"I'll give all of you one chance," Cara said. "Swear allegiance to Richard Rahl, now, or I can't guarantee you won't come to lasting harm." She couldn't keep the excitement out of her tone.
“Who are you to threaten us?" a Mord'Sith demanded, one of the younger ones. "You don’t have the Seeker watching your back.”
“You’re wrong. I don’t have Richard holding me back.”
The waitress arrived with Cara’s piping-hot tea. She took it, thanked her, and threw it over her shoulder into the face of the Mord'Sith directly behind her.
Violence was under Cara’s skin and behind her eyeballs, more of an effort to turn off than on. It didn't matter if it had been put there or if it had always been there, a primordial instinct. Sometimes, if she didn’t let it out, she thought she would combust. Nothing left but ashes.
The scalded Mord'Sith tried to aim a bead through blinded eyes as Cara swept forward, fist cocked for the sister in back. Dahlia did as her eyes had promised, giving Cara room to play.
The Mord'Sith in front of Cara. A punch rattled her brain, ricocheted off her skull into a throat-chop, which reversed into an elbow strike. Three Mord'Sith went down. Cara wasn't one of them.
The sister off to the side, clutching her throat, was either more experienced or just lucky. Cara went to finish her off and they traded parries blindingly fast. Cara took a boxing combo to her ribs for a hand wrapped around her sister’s throat. The Mord'Sith gagged, hands instinctually going to her throat. That doomed her. Cara grabbed her by the braid and slammed her head into a table so fast it took a chunk out of the tabletop. She hit the floor, bleeding from the scalp. Cara stepped over her, then mule-kicked a heel into her ribs. She should've took the offer.
The scalded Mord'Sith’s eyes and crossbow followed the choked sister down. Cara didn’t let either back up. She grabbed the crossbow by the prod and pulled it forward. The Mord'Sith went along for the ride. She pitched, slipped, and Cara’s knee met her on the way down. It broke her jaw. Unconsciousness relinquished the crossbow to Cara.
Dahlia stood back, idly toying with her neckline, as if Cara’s victory were less remarkable to her than the slight over-warmth of the tavern. “I’m so thrilled. They lasted much longer than Denna's group would have. Our new training regime is working.”
Cara aimed the crossbow at Dahlia’s head. “Your turn. Get up.”
Dahlia ran a finger up and down the bolt pointed at her before answering. “I’d better do as you say. After all, you have an arrow.”
She got to her feet. Cara backed up a few feet. She tossed the crossbow aside. Pulled out her Agiels. "Fight me."
”I’m unarmed.”
“I know you better than that.”
Dahlia didn’t say anything. She ran her hands down her body, pinning the leather to her skin. Cara watched her nipples and the lines of her abs flash briefly.
With angry energy, Cara took one of her Agiels and slapped it down on Dahlia's plate. Her wineglass fell over and the plate cracked.
“Pick it up. You know you want to.”
“Right here? In front of everyone?”
Cara turned around, offering a clean shot at her back, as if she couldn’t even stand to look at Dahlia. “Maybe this is more your speed.”
“Nice view, but as long as you’re pointed in that direction, you might as well start marching.”
Cara turned back to her, teeth gritted. Forced herself to take a deep breath. She put away her Agiels. Then she was leaning over Dahlia, her hands slapping down on the chair’s armrests.
“Don't you want to settle this?”
"I won't give you an excuse."
Horse hooves were beating in the distance. Cara wasn’t looking anywhere but Dahlia, but Darken Rahl's disciple could see the way her ears prickled.
"Why don't you just kill me before I kill you? It would make things so much simpler," Dahlia said. She watched the tension in Cara's arms as the blonde pushed herself off the chair and away from her.
“You used to be so much more fun,” Cara told her.
In no particular hurry, Cara walked away, pushing over a standing Mord'Sith as she went. The backdoor swung behind her. Dahlia signaled for a refill as General Meiffert burst in. What was left of the Dragon Corps followed him, swords held firm.
“You’re too late,” Dahlia informed them. “It was only Cara."
Meiffert looked at the fallen Mord'Sith littering the floor. “One woman?” He glanced at Dahlia. “You’re sweating.”
Dahlia wiped her brow. “No, I’m not.”
***
Cara met back up with the others. They'd managed to evade the quads and retrieve Zedd from the Library of Nossis, where he'd found the text he was looking for. They were one step closer to putting an end to Darken Rahl, once and for all.
After an evening's uneventful ride, Cara asked Kahlan to spar, and with an understanding nod, the Mother Confessor drew her daggers. It took the edge off, even if the closest Cara came to satisfaction was one particularly brutal slam Kahlan unleashed on her.
It shouldn't matter to her that Dahlia was playing some sort of game with her, denying her even the modest nostalgia of fighting like they had once done, even if that was only for sport and this was real as blood could make it. All that should've mattered was destroying Rahl. And Cara was a better Mord'Sith than Dahlia. It shouldn't have mattered if she died, for the Lord Rahl would still have Cara to protect him.
But if Cara died putting her Agiel in Darken Rahl's heart, and that placed Dahlia in Richard's care… it seemed like a fair trade.
Cara put Kahlan on her back, Agiel at her throat. But not touching. It was a courtesy she paid those she respected. "If Dahlia swore allegiance to Richard, would you take her in?"
Even for someone as versed in emotions as Kahlan, that didn't make sense. But then, she wasn't Mord'Sith. "Of course, Cara."
"Thank you." Cara got up, hiding her Agiels back in her belt. She didn't feel like fighting anymore.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-05-19 12:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-05-19 01:25 am (UTC)I keep waiting for somebody to write the Dahlia joins up with Cara and the gang, but I guess everybody's too worried about the real show to go that way.
Anyway, the tone and dialog reminded me of sort of snappy private eye type dialog from the 30s and 40s. Not sure if that's what you were going for but that's what it made me think of -- kind of Bogie and Bacall, or should I say Bacall and Bacall.
no subject
Date: 2010-05-19 02:25 am (UTC)"Meanwhile, Cara had to put up with the knowledge that she had narrowly avoided being a housewife. She had always thought that if she hadn't been Mord'Sith, she would've been a general in the D'Haran army. At least a captain."
no subject
Date: 2010-05-19 03:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-05-19 04:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-05-19 05:24 am (UTC)I really liked that Kahlan and Richard would go to a place with the nonexistant word "whorery" in the title to cater and I'm guessing host, thier wedding reception. It is just the right level of nutty.
no subject
Date: 2010-05-19 06:56 am (UTC):)
Date: 2010-05-19 02:12 pm (UTC)Reminds me of Terry-Pratchett-esq writing :)
no subject
Date: 2010-05-20 04:28 pm (UTC)Hope to see many more
no subject
Date: 2010-11-03 04:13 am (UTC):)
Date: 2011-04-04 08:38 am (UTC)