seriousfic

Title: We're a long way from home and home is a long way from us
Fandom: Legend of the Seeker
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2,156
Characters/Pairings: Cara/Triana, Cara/Dahlia, Richard/Kahlan, Berdine/Raina
Author’s notes: Betaed by the lovely and talented

susurrusnight
Previous: Part 11
Next: Part 13
Summary:A Mord'Sith only needs her sisters and her Lord Rahl. Cara isn't a Mord'Sith anymore.

Cara moved through the night like a boulder picking up speed, her control so damaged that she swiped at everything she passed. Branches broke. Rocks shot away from her.

Dahlia struggled to keep up. In the dark, every branch and vine seemed out to get her. "Cara, wait!"

"No one asked you to come along," Cara fired back, ripping her dress on a bush. She soldiered on regardless.

"But I am, so maybe you could cut me a little slack." Dahlia rushed forward and grabbed Cara's tightly fisted hand. Cara turned, raising her Agiel. "If beating on me will make you feel better, do it. I could use the practice."

Cara's Agiel didn't waver as she tucked it into its holster. "We've stopped. What do you want?"

"I'd like to know what the plan is."

"The plan is I'm going to find anyone Darken Rahl has ever shared two words with and hurt him until he tells me where the Clear Eye's Fire is."

Dahlia's lips quirked. "How long have you been serving Richard again?"

"I suppose you have a better idea."

"I still serve the Keeper and he still counts Darken Rahl as an enemy. We retire for the night. In the morning, suitably rested, I'll commune with the Keeper. With all the people dying lately, he must know something."

Cara stepped closer to her, close enough to see her eyes stayed as they were in the dim starlight. "Do it now."

"Talking to the Keeper of the Underworld isn't child's play. It takes time and energy. I don't have either in abundance."

"I could make you," Cara stated.

"Could you?" Dahlia replied, staring into her eyes.

Cara looked away. She'd have to find shelter.

***

Dahlia couldn't sleep because Cara couldn't sleep. She was pacing the width and breadth of the cave, boots treading inches from Dahlia's nose.

Cara couldn't sleep because the past couldn't sleep. It awoke in her memory with every passing moment. It was a cave like this with Leo. It was a dress like this with my sister.

She was not the woman in those memories anymore. She was not Mord'Sith. What was she?

Cara stopped, cold. Dahlia was looking at her, eyes full of concern. But not just concern.

Cara was through wasting time on talk, being a trained lap dog when she could be a predator. "Get up," she said.

Dahlia stood reluctantly. "Cara," she started. And stopped. "Cara, what do you want from me?"

"It's what we both want," Cara said, bunching her hands in Dahlia's hateful red dress and pulling her close, jerking them together so the breath went out of Dahlia's lungs. "You want this. I know you want this."

She buried her teeth in Dahlia's neck, getting things off to a fast start. Dahlia was the kind of woman who appreciated being handled, Cara could just tell. She felt Dahlia stiffen with desire, sucking in breath and then pushing it out again, Cara's hands running over her body doling out pleasure to go with the pain. Within moments, Cara knew Dahlia was an exquisite instrument. She could keep her on the cusp for hours, addicted to what she was feeling, controlled and leashed and subordinate.

Only Dahlia was resisting. Cara could feel her body fighting against what it was taking in. "You don't," Dahlia said, and Cara paused. "You're alone and confused and you just want something that makes sense. But you don't want me. You don't love me. That's what I want."

Cara threw Dahlia down with a huff. Dahlia stayed on the ground, staring up at Cara with wondering eyes. Cara stalked over to the opposing wall and sat down against it.

Dahlia listened to the sound of her angry footsteps fading into echoes, then sat up. There were four feet and many years between her and Cara.

Cara rubbed her cold arms, pale from so many years in leather, varicose veins standing out like the scars no one had been good enough to put on her. "I can still feel the leather… it's my skin now. I'll always be like this, won't I?" She looked up at Dahlia. Her eyes begged.

"It looks good on you." That was all the comfort she could offer.

Aching for distraction, Cara pulled the parchment Berdine had given her from her pack. When she opened it, she saw it was lettered in High D'Haran, but she felt confident she could make out all of what it said.

Cleansed of black until it shines of white
Made whole from what was always divided
Full of pain until set free
No hate, no fear, no hunger, no want
The blind will see by the Clear Eye's Fire

After reading it aloud, she stuffed the parchment back into her pack. "It doesn’t even rhyme."

"It probably did in the original language," Dahlia replied.

"What do you think it means?"

"It means we should get some sleep."

Cara leaned back, arms crossed, hair falling in front of her face, almost concealing her bright gaze. She kept her eyes on Dahlia. Dahlia understood. A Mord'Sith didn't need sleep. Didn't need trust. And although she held herself as still as any sleeper, Cara didn’t rest.

Feeling those half-closed eyes on her, Dahlia stood. By the embers of the fire she stretched, preened really, letting her robes shift over her as she worked the kinks out of her bones. The red fabric did little to contain her breasts, or to conceal the definition of her abs. A smile flickered over her lips as she heard Cara's breathing quicken. Then, with autoerotic showmanship, she began to shadow-box. Her fists sung through the air, oxygen crying out for mercy.

Cara craned her head for a better look. It was an eerie sight, Dahlia straining and fighting against an enemy that wasn't there, not making a single noise. Cara laughed mockingly.

“What’s so funny?” Dahlia asked, straining her muscles into a statue-still combat stance.

“Your stance is all wrong. Too stiff. You’re moving, not standing at attention. You don’t have to hold a pose like a painter's model.”

“I could hold this stance for hours.”

Cara picked up a rock and threw it. Although it was scarcely bigger than a pebble, it hit Dahlia under the knee and knocked her off-balance. She had to windmill her arms in a completely undignified manner to keep her footing. Fuming, she drew her dacras and worked her way through their exercise, her blows finely slicing the air.

"Need any help?" Cara asked.

Dahlia laughed, once. “From you?”

She focused on the dacras. Not on Cara, not on the future. On how sharp and cold and hard metal could be.

Then Cara was next to her, taking hold of her arm, and Dahlia felt a momentary burst of panic, her muscles tensing like she was going to jerk herself away from Cara. She forced it down, chiding herself for showing weakness. It didn’t matter. Cara would let go of her.

“What are you waiting for?” Dahlia asked. “Help me.”

“Okay.” More carefully, Cara grabbed her arm. “Show me a punch.”

She did, extending the arm slowly, fist coiled, then retracting it back to a power stance.

“Again.”

She did. This time Cara twisted it, bringing her arm around to chop at the bone, all in the same courtly motion Dahlia moved at. Cara stopped short of hitting her. Her hold on Dahlia was firm now, confident.

“Stiffness and ritual give you strength, but they also leave you vulnerable. Loosen up. Let yourself listen to your instincts."

"Did the Seeker teach you that?"

Cara flushed. "It wasn't something I was taught. It was something I learned."

Dahlia threw the punch, Cara twisted it, Dahlia pulled back, yanking Cara off-balance. The Mord'Sith was pulled up short against the Dark Sister. Dahlia could feel Cara's body against hers, so much power housed there that the softness of her dress, and the smell of her hair, seemed incongruous. A contradiction in terms.

Cara's body was tensing, moving, and it took Dahlia a moment to realize she was pulling away, but she was still holding onto her. Dahlia's fingers loosened and Cara took a step back. “Who was it you were punching?”

“Not you, since that's what you're worried about.”

“Worry? About you?”

Dahlia held up her hands. “Show me why you're not worried.”

Like an odd ballet, Cara threw the punch. It sluggishly collided with Dahlia's hands, and even slowed down it sent force trembling up her arms. The blow had shifted Cara's sleeve from her arm, and Dahlia ran a hand down the revealed muscles like a craftsman examining a piece of wood for imperfections. She gave Cara's arm a twist and Cara instantly reacted, slipping out of her grasp and striking at her throat.

She caught it in a throttle, fingers splayed toward her ears. Robbed of its threat and speed, the gesture struck Dahlia as oddly intimate. She could feel the strength primed in Cara's fingers, the calluses that ended them like claws, how gentle she was despite all that. Her hand shook before she pulled it away. As she did, Dahlia's hand was lifting up as if to cover Cara's. They hovered there, like fuses waiting to be lit.

“Loose,” Dahlia repeated. “Never thought of it that way.”

She struck at Cara, arms cycling at her sides. Cara blocked, the thud of flesh against flesh reverently muted. When Dahlia looked at her, she could see Cara's pores had ignited with sweat, shining across her face. Then when she blocked, Dahlia grabbed her by her extended arm and flipped her, depositing Cara on the floor, hard.

“You get the idea,” Cara said, getting to her feet. She was surprised when Dahlia pulled her up. Cara paced a few steps, looking at Dahlia from a different angle, then sidled down the cave wall until she was sitting, just a pair of legs sprawling out into the firelight. She wasn't exhausted, just still. Dahlia wondered if it was the fight that had done it, or her.

She sat across from Cara, the fire between them, the same warmth pervading them both. Then, slowly and a little bit stiffly, Dahlia extended her leg until it laid alongside Cara's, her toes connected to the inside of Cara's knee, not rubbing like a flirt, but simply serving as a pint of contact for the two women, a reminder for Cara that Dahlia was there. A reminder that didn't need her to keep her eyes open.

It wasn't much, but Cara's eyes closed and her breathing evened out into sleep. That was enough.

And when Cara was fully asleep, head down and face soft like the child Dahlia had once known, the Dark Sister roused herself. She walked a short distance from the cave to the clearing in the woods where Darken Rahl was waiting.

"Hello, Dahlia. How's my wayward Mord'Sith? Sleeping well?"

Dahlia shrugged noncommittally. Rahl frightened her. Always had, always would. "She was the last time I checked."

"Good. She always did sleep best after a good fucking. You shouldn't have interrupted me so soon. It might've made her more personable to you."

"We needed her," Dahlia said gently. "Not what would be left of her. The important thing is that she trusts me now. You can have her all to yourself when we're done."

Rahl winced, mock-hurt. "I've never known you to be so defensive of another. It's rather cute."

"Are you questioning my loyalty?”

“No. Your judgment. We're so close to the end, little sister. I’d hate to see you fail the Keeper at such a crucial juncture. And I know better than anyone how… tantalizing Cara can be."

“I don’t.”

Rahl chuckled, amused. “Have you asked why she hasn't killed you yet? It'd be her safest option. And she's never been a team player.”

The question brought Dahlia up short. On some level, she suspected Cara had an attachment to her, something she was trying to prove, but she’d never consciously thought about it. She went with the first alternative that popped into her head. “She’s squeamish. The Seeker has made her weak.”

Rahl laughed louder. “No. Not all the time in the world could erase my training. She sees something in you. Or perhaps you see something in her.”

“Don’t be absurd.”

"Don’t tell me you don’t have things in common with her. Don’t tell me you don’t hate it. It's the reason she’ll never love you. She can’t. You exemplify all the parts of herself she hates."

"Why would I want her love?" Dahlia kicked the subject elsewhere. "Did the soul sylphs work?"

"Perfectly. Thank you for letting them in. I'm sure my brother greatly appreciated them."

Dahlia nodded to herself. "Then it really is the end."

"At first light, I'd imagine. Bring Cara here." Darken Rahl brought his hands together. "I'll deal with her personally."

"As you wish."