Title: Truth
Summary: When the Sword of Truth is destroyed, the fall out is nothing anyone could have expected, and Richard realises that what happened might just change him forever…
Parings: Richard/Kahlan
Rating: T
Genre: Romance/General
Background
This is kinda important…Richard and Kahlan haven't found that convenient way for them to be together yet. Their still worried about what a possible Confession might do. So…yeah…thought I'd better tell you guys that ^_^
The attack came at night.
The sky was a blanket of soothing darkness; thick and heavy and dotted with sparkling, crystalline stars. Their weak rays entwined with that of the moon in a display that sent gentle, ghostly white, rays of almost silver light dancing through the cool night air. Zedd was taking the first watch, with suspicion and cautiousness still needed in a world such as theirs. Sitting by the flickering fire, wise grey eyes surveyed the darkness of the trees around him. Magic stretched outwards, flexing its senses, a system that would alarm him if anything was out there.
But the night was calm, cool and the air was humming gently with the sounds of nocturnal life.
But then the calm was broken.
Figures leapt out of the trees. Figures that Zedd hadn't even sensed move. Figures he still couldn't sense move.
His cry of alarm was enough to wake the others and they were on their feet in an instant, drawing their respective weapons, adrenaline already pumping. They met the figures in battle; mysterious black clad warriors that slid through the night like the shadow themselves. The darkness seemed to merge with them seamlessly, flawlessly, and it was like watching silk ripple as a woman walked. But, despite their calibre in battle, they were falling under the onslaught of just who they were facing. Throwing a blast of wizards fire at one who was attacking Cara, Zedd noticed Kahlan fighting in her graceful style a few paces away and Richard on the other side of the clearing.
His opponent seemed to slide away for a moment; the wizards fire drifting past them.
Just who were these people?
No one that he knew in the Midlands, or the Old World, fought like this. No one acted like this. So just who were these people?
Seeing one deftly dodge Kahaln's attempt to confess them, slipping neatly under her hand, confirmed that they definitely knew of Confessors.
A sudden hiss caught his attention.
Every single one of the warrior eyes had swivelled to Richard, a hiss rising up in their throats, teeth bared in what looked like a mixture of fear and anger. Zedd followed their gazes with narrowed eyes, hand outstretched, prepared to blast anyone who dared to attack his grandson.
The sword of truth was glowing red from hilt to tip.
Richard was fighting three at once, blade swinging through the air with frightening precision, an aggressive style of death and anger that had no right to look so graceful. It was different from Kahlan's cool defensive turned offence; it was strikes that were honed to kill, more like Cara's attacks with her agiel, and the grace to it had no right to be there. Knowledge of the Seekers running through him, Richard was a storm of destruction, making fighting three of those mysterious warriors look easy, not even faltering once.
But Zedd helped him anyway.
Shooting a blast of wizards fire at one of the warriors, he was surprised to find that his hit did not connect. The warrior moved gracefully, pulling backwards out of the fight and then diving back in, making the move look seamless.
Before Zedd could try again, he was forced to dodge a blow from his left side, spinning around to meet his new enemy. The warriors body was completely covered and nothing but a pair of dark eyes gazed coldly out of a concealed face. Herding him away from the fight, the warrior deftly dodged his attacks and even his wizard webs, his webs, and worry started to worm it's way into the wizards gut. Why had these people come here? And if there were more of them…
But he didn't have time to think for he was being pushed back, having to concentrate on moving in a way that wouldn't trip him over, stumbling back away from Richard-
Away from Richard.
They were trying to separate them! Chancing a quick look around, he saw Cara and Kahlan were both engaging people nearby. Richard was the only one on the opposite side of the clearing. Panic lent him speed, and the warrior was not quick enough to dodge his next blast of fire. It hit them square in the chest and they were sent flying backwards through the air. Seeing another warrior approaching him out of the corner of his eyes he turned worried grey eyes back the way he had come, back to Richard.
Two of the warriors were down. The other was holding their own against a technique that should have killed them. Richard looked calm. But his eyes were blazing with the anger of the sword. Glowing, brighter than fire, the sword of truth swung through the air. Something shifted. A chill fell. And the black warrior seemed to tense in anticipation. A blow fell from that shining sword and the warrior didn't move. Watching it fall, watching his death, he broke the pattern. He reached up and grabbed the sword before it completed it's downward motion.
The air seemed to pulse, charged with static, and then the wind changed.
And the sword of truth did something that should have been impossible. It was unstoppable; the weapon that had broken the boxes of Orden without a scratch to show for it. But with that touch of the warriors hand, a touch that only lasted seconds, Zedd saw history made before his very eyes.
With a great whine; the greatest weapon in both the New and the Old worlds shattered.
And then was gone.
Richard felt it break.
But he didn't just feel it. He…was it. The sword wasn't shattering. It couldn't be the sword shattering. Because the sword was just a sword and this felt like he was being torn apart but was somehow managing to keep together so the pressure was increasing and increasing so that he might break.
And that couldn't be the sword.
The anger, the magic, was eclipsed in his mind. Or maybe it was the magic that he was feeling? No, maybe, yes. But all he knew was that the feeling thudded through him. A feeling of being destroyed and yelling and yelling and yelling to himself or someone (he really didn't know) for help but no help was coming and he was being torn apart. And the world had turned red, red like blood and rage and the glowing on the sword of truth, and his heart was hammering in his ears. It was a constant thud of I'm here and I'm not stopping and I won't stop and-
It hurt.
And the world was red and white and gold and black. All at the same time. Colours that whisked each other away as they tried to hold on. And he briefly thought that a thousand voices in his mind were screaming out to him but he could hear what they were saying. He knew them though, he was sure of it, and maybe they were all him. Or at least different hims.
But it felt like he was being shattered. Not the sword.
And it only lasted an instant. An instant where his eyes were locked with that of the warrior holding his blade.
The eyes that stared into his were the coldest shade of green he had ever seen. Green was life. Green was the leaves and the grass because everything that was alive was somehow connected with the colour. It was vibrant, it was alive, it was soul.
But these eyes were death.
But he stared right back. Because he was still Richard even through this shattering. And these warriors had attacked him and the people he cared about. Was Kahlan alright? The sudden thought flashed through his mind just as the shards of the sword of truth sang through the air.
He watched them numbly, attention off those eyes of death, and saw them disappear. Not disappear as in fall out of sight, he meant disappear as in fade out of existence.
The sword of truth was…gone?
He felt himself fall. It was in an absent sort of way that obscured the rest of the world; sending everything out of focus. And when he hit the floor he felt consciousness slip away from him but he still managed to catch the words the warrior whispered to him in a calm voice that matched his eyes.
"Round one goes to me, Seeker."
The title was meant to be mocking. But how could it be? Richard was the Seeker. And that was why the sword of truth can't be broken. Because if it was then it meant that the magic was gone, the knowledge was gone, the sword was gone-
So why could Richard still feel it blazing in his mind, tasting like hope?
He awoke to the darkness of the night sky.
The black of his surroundings told him that not much time had passed since he'd passed out. Opening his eyes, he saw Kahlan peering down at him with worry in her blue eyes.
Magic blazed in his mind; the link to the sword of truth still there like a beacon, a soothing imprint of something he had always had. Except it hadn't always been there, he reminded himself, once he hadn't been the Seeker. And the sword had once been another's. Confusion raced through him, generated from the memory of a sword exploding before his eyes and then fading away. But the sword couldn't have been destroyed. Not if he could feel it. Not if the magic was still there.
Right?
Pushing himself into a sitting position, Richard put a hand to his head, suddenly feeling dizzy and sighed. Looking back at Kahlan, he took in the cut on her cheek and frowned. "Are you all right?"
She laughed. It was a gentle sound tinted with relief. "You're asking me? Richard, you collapsed, are you alright?"
"I'm fine." he smiled, reaching out to her, one hand gently caressing one pale cheek to solidify his point, tenderly soothing the small cut.
"Ah," came Zedd's voice, tone deliberately bright but, beneath that, there was worry. "so you finally awaken. Are you-"
"I'm fine Zedd." Richard replied, laughing at the wizards face when he interrupted him. He was sitting in front of the camps fire, across from Cara, and the Mord'Sith had narrowed eyes concentrated on him. "But where is the sword of truth?"
Tension snapped into the air.
Richard felt it. He felt fear and anxiety well inside him. And somehow he already knew the answer. Somehow he already knew where the sword had gone. They looked at him, all three of his friends, his family, and he knew what they were going to say before they said it. Anger suddenly flashed through his mind like scarlet fire wanting something to burn, wanting something to blame. The word came out as a whisper. "No…"
"It was destroyed." Cara, unafraid and honestly direct Cara, told him bluntly.
And then the anger was roaring in his ears and he didn't understand why he was so angry because it was only a sword and it meant he could be free-
He didn't remember getting to his feet; but there he was, standing upright in the clearing. "It can't be gone. Don't lie to me."
But somehow he knew they were telling the truth. It couldn't have been clearer if it had been written on their faces. But the swords magic still blazed in his mind like a second sun. Only…closer than before. It felt more like him. It was anger and fury and danger and death all twisting and merging and roaring in his mind. Liquid fire raced through his brain as the emotion grew; feeding itself with energy that Richard did not know it could have. Everything was there, being pulled into a ball of crimson flame, being turned into rage.
(and he felt something inside reach and reach and his skin tingled with power and-)
He heard Kahlan gasp. "Richard your eyes-"
Turning to her stunned and uncomprehending, he watched as she quickly pulled a small mirror out of her bag and held it in front of him. He looked down at it; still caught in a rage.
And a pair of glowing red eyes, exactly the same as the glow that had ran down the sword of truth, glared back at him.
He sat by the river.
It was midday, the surface of the swirling waters scattered with little jewels of light, and he watched as the suns rays played on the surface, a kaleidoscope of beautiful white.
The ground was soft; grass warm and green and stretching feebly for a sapphire sky. He had been there for a while. Sitting down and watching the river, watching the water swirl around, the dark depths only revealed for a moment before the suns light eclipsed it again. Wind whispered to the trees and plants, a song that charmed them into swaying, into whistling along with the breeze.
The sword of truth had been destroyed yesterday.
They had continued on, journeyed a further few miles, and here in the forest, by a river, Richard felt most at home. Here, things weren't about Confessors and Seekers and Mord'Sith and wizards. This was the wild, away from the worlds troubles, secluded from a world that burned and burned. Safe and secure.
(except, of course when the trees were cut down)
His eyes had glowed. Like the sword of truth. Zedd had said that that had happened because of the bond between Seeker and sword. The sword was, technically, an extension on the Seeker, so when it was destroyed it made sense for it to find a way to save itself. And it had. It had merged with him. He was the sword. And it felt weird.
He felt unbalanced and out of control. Like every second of every minute he was holding a sword he couldn't put down; anger and fury and death racing through his mind.
Footsteps behind him.
He turned, knowing Kahlan was there. Smiling, he put an arm round her when she sat beside him. Blue eyes looked into his, strong and worried all at once, and he sighed. "You're worried about me."
She raised an eyebrow. "You merged with the sword of truth a day ago. Of course I'm worried. You seem troubled and you're not talking to me."
"I don't know what to say." he told her, pulling the woman closer, trying to find the words to help her understand. "Kahlan I feel different. Like- like the sword of truth is always in my hand and I can't let go."
She kissed his cheek gently. "Your still the same, Richard. The sword is just…more a part of you than it was. But your still you."
There was something in him that said no. Some part that was anger and death and rage and voices and voices and voices that weren't his but were and-
He ignored them.
He kissed her back. A smile in his eyes this time as well as tugging at his lips. "I know."
She smiled at him, satisfied, before turning and watching the sun shine on the water. Richard copied her; relaxing in the warmth of the day, arm slung casually around Kahlan's shoulders. She leaned into him and he leant into her. They stayed like that, watching the water, content. The war with the Keeper was over. The rift was sealed. And a new sect of warriors were not going to interfere in their happiness. They couldn't touch for long. They still couldn't become man and wife in the way that normal couples could. But that was alright, for now, that was never going to get in the way of their love.
And in the river, those dark depths swirled.
The man attacked furiously.
But Richard pushed the blows aside. The sword may be gone but the magic was still there; the knowledge. It was stranger, nearer, somehow more instinctive than before. Magic raced through his body, the rage of his sword there and ready and telling him what to do. But it wasn't really telling him. Because he knew. He didn't need instruction. He didn't need to be told.
And it didn't matter that he was fighting, and winning, a hand to hand fight with a swordsman. Because he was the sword now. So it didn't matter.
The man faltered and Richard ripped the sword from his hands, swinging it expertly, driving it into the mans chest, killing him instantly. A pang of guilt and pain ripped through him, taking lives was never easy, it was never what he wanted. He stopped for a moment, counting the remaining attackers. One was fighting Zedd, one was fighting Cara and there was two more fighting Kahlan. He automatically went to help her. He knew she could defend herself but that wasn't the point, was it? You didn't leave someone you loved to fight on their own because you knew they could handle it. Sometimes you just had to fight right on with them.
He realised too late that he had miscounted.
One of them came up behind him. Richard heard the soft footsteps on the earthy forest floor and spun, dodging the first blow and the next and the next. It didn't take long to get the sword out of the mans hands but, just as he was about to kill him, the man stabbed him in the leg with a knife he had pulled out of a sheath on his forearm.
Surprised, the leg collapsed underneath Richard, but he had felt the pain of an agiel and a stab wound was nothing, nothing, compared with that. But he automatically put one hand to the wound, knowing that he had to stop the bleeding, and at the same tried to get up from the kneeling position he had fallen into.
(and that anger flooded through him in a rage and need to live that called to be used and released and threatened to overwhelm him and-)
The man grabbed him by his throat; guessing that he would try and stand, raising the other, the one with the knife in, to bring down on a path that would pierce Richard's heart. A death blow. Richard felt the coolness of the fingers on his neck, the nails that dug in, and saw death in the other mans dark eyes.
(something inside him snapped and it was a part he had never known existed but it was anger and rage and fury and the power of it was so great that he couldn't stop it and-)
Something rushed through him, different from the swords magic, a power that was cold as ice and as strong as an avalanche. It raced through his veins, infecting his skin, and didn't stop there. Powering outward in an explosion of sheer force, he almost heard it slam into the other man. Richard felt his jaw drop in shock, feeling the fingers still on his throat, and felt an icy feeling in his stomach. It couldn't be, his mind whispered.
And then the mans eyes turned coal black.
He dropped to his knees, releasing Richard who, stumbling backwards, halfway to his feet, almost fell back down. One hand covered the wound on his lower thigh as he managed to straighten awkwardly. The man gazed up at him adoringly, passively, and then said.
"Command me Confessor."
But Richard didn't get a chance to say anything, because another man was heading over. He was one of the ones who had been fighting Kahlan but had obviously seen the fight with Richard and decided to help. He advanced dangerously, sword poised for attack, but he was caught off guard when his fellow soldier was the one to meet him in battle. Richard was still in shock; only managing to stand there with one hand over his leg. The pain was numb now. The anger of the sword faded; the death gone from his mind.
But that…Confession had awakened something.
Or at least made Richard aware of it. There was a power inside him. A thing that felt cold and familiar and like truth all at once. It was soothing, but he didn't know why, and it was terrifying. He had felt the energy recharge the moment he used it; a bolt of force he could use to enslave anyone he wished, whenever he wished.
It made him feel wrong.
The men were still fighting when Kahlan put a knife in the attackers back. The Confessed man, the one Richard had Confessed, was left standing protectively by Richard.
And it was horrifying.
Because he had just done something he shouldn't have been able to do. And he had taken that mans soul. At least dead he'd still have his own mind. And Richard hadn't had a choice but to kill him. It had been a battle; life or death. And although Richard wished there was something he could do, some way to make it so he didn't have to kill, he couldn't.
Cara had an eyebrow raised at the man, pose mocking, while Zedd and Kahlan just looked confused.
Richard sighed, wondering how he was going to explain this, and then said "It's alright, their friends."
The man relaxed, calmed but his words, by the words of his Confessor. He put away his sword, but his pose never relaxed, eyes watching the three people opposite him with suspicion. He looked like he was ready to kill them if they so much as breathed wrong.
Things really went down hill when he turned to Richard and addressed him as Confessor.
It was so much quieter in the forest.
Away from everything, everyone, the solitude and peace was somehow silent in a way that was blessedly loud. It blocked everything else out. And the life of the place thrummed through the ground like a little heartbeat.
He hadn't run away, exactly, but the shocked looks on their faces, the sheer passivity of the Confessed man…
It had got to him.
There had been something inside him that had told him to run and so he had. For a while. Because he wasn't trying to leave them. He just needed time to think. To breath.
Because Confessing almost hurt.
You took something from someone. Something inside you overpowered them; destroyed them. And he didn't know how Kahlan could stand it. Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm down. He felt unbalanced and out of control, the swords magic barely held in check, it was there all the time. He could feel it humming in his mind. But he couldn't hide forever, wouldn't hide forever, so he turned and walked back the way he had come. The forest glade he had found almost begged him to stay; but he ignored the call. There were things bigger than him, bigger than this, and he just had to find a balance. That's all.
As he walked back he reached into the swirl of fire in his mind, the swords magic, and relaxed as it's familiarity pushed away the other power.
He met Kahlan half way.
She was walking towards him; white dress swirling around her ankles.
They stopped a little way from each other and he looked away from her large blue eyes. Shining with love and pity and compassion, the blue seemed brighter and darker than usual at the same time.
"I Confessed him." Richard said finally.
Kahlan nodded. "I know."
"I- how is that possible?" Richard asked. He wanted an answer. He wanted her to have all the answers.
"The sword." Kahlan said simply, slowing, eyes still that same blue. "Zedd said-"
"Of course." Richard whispered. "It's the sword of truth."
Silence hung in the air for a while, Richard looking at the floor, unable to help but feel the Confessors power, his Confessor power, inside him. It felt natural. Like it was supposed to be there. But it wasn't. And he wanted it to go away. He wanted it gone.
And then Kahlan started to speak.
"When I was a little girl I wondered why Confessors wore white." she said softly, gesturing to the pure ivory dress she wore. "I hated my power. My father despised my kind and me and my sister were forced to use it to take peoples lives away. The guilt was overpowering and looking into their eyes when I…when I killed them was the worst part. The years changed nothing, what I was had made my father hate me. And others too. And then I went to the sisters of the light. The first time I saw a Confessor I didn't understand why they wore a white dress. I thought my power evil; and wanted the dresses to match."
"I took his life away. I stole his soul." Richard whispered.
"I know." was the gentle reply. "But it's alright. We'll get through this. We…we have the same power. And I can help you through it and I can teach you control. I know it must be hard for you, you never grew up with this, but I love you and will never leave you."
"I get it." Richard said slowly. "I get why you- why you didn't want to risk Confessing me. I know why you…I know what it feels like. And- I think I get it."
He hadn't really been sure what he was trying to say. The sentences came out wrong. Broken and mixed up with too many emotions to name. They were almost too strong to feel.
But Kahlan understood. Face crumpling in sadness, she moved forwards, arms around him, embracing him with a strength that belied her smaller form. She rested her head on his shoulder, pulling him to her, not letting him go. Richard returned the hug, and through everything that had happened that day, through the Confession that felt like it had stained his soul, he managed to smile. Because the woman he loved was in his arms. The only person he could never steal the soul from; never hurt with his magic.
The thought hit him with a force that almost knocked the breath from his lungs.
He realised it the same time she did. And her whisper was louder than he thought possible. "I can no longer Confess you…"
We can be together, he thought, and the happiness that filled him eclipsed everything else for a moment. He felt shocked…was this really real? But it was, it was, and they could finally lose their fear whenever they touched.
The realisation brought a grin to his face, provided a sudden light in the dark, and he only held her tighter. He never wanted to let her go.
They stayed like that for a while; just two Confessors shielding the world from their power.
He refused to go back to the camp until he had his power under control.
He didn't want to accidentally confess them. Staying away would keep them safe. Kahlan had raised one delicate eyebrow in exasperation but agreed when he hadn't changed his mind even after her arguments that he wasn't dangerous.
The Confessed man was proof enough.
The man had followed Kahlan to where he was and Richard had awkwardly told him to go and lead a good life. His speech had been a copy of Kahlan's when she had sent the ones she had Confessed away. Going reluctantly, the man had done as Richard had said, leaving him alone in the forest as night fell. Preparing for the fact that his friends would try and move their camps to him in the night, Richard had moved through the forest a little more before settling.
Night was falling now.
He had gotten a fire going, a small blaze with dancing, healthy, amber and scarlet flames. Staring at the flames for a time, he sighed and then looked at the sky, blinking away spots of light from prolonged exposure to light. The moon was full; a silver circle that hovered in the night sky, surrounded by tiny stars that glittered and shone.
He looked away.
It took him some time to settle down to sleep. The swords magic flared in his mind. His Confessor magic twisted and begged to be used; mirroring an anxiety he was trying to ignore. But, eventually, he managed to drift of to sleep. Unpleasant dreams followed. Something shattered and changed and he was Confessing Cara and Zedd and his magic was angry and green eyes that smirked with death were peering out at him from the shadows of a sinister night and-
Glowing red eyes opened.
Richard took a deep breath. The air was cool, refreshing, like a drink of water from a day of thirst. Sitting up, he turned to a fire he knew he had put out, peering at the familiar figure that sat behind it, dark hair falling over pale shoulders.
Kahlan smiled at him.
"Do you really think I'd leave you in the forest all alone?"
Richard laughed, laying back down at her nod, and drifted off to sleep within seconds. The magic of the sword was calm. The Confessor magic quiet.
And, that night, his nightmares didn't return.
He awoke in a maelstrom of rage.
The swords magic, his magic, roared with the force that didn't seem possible. The power seemed enough to engulf the world. But Richard wasn't being engulfed, he wasn't dying or burning or anything, the power was flowing through him like it belonged there. And perhaps it did. Perhaps it was him now. But it was dangerous and loud and out of control and he didn't know how to push it away and it wasn't going away.
The sword of truth was in his hands. And he couldn't release his grip.
Sitting up, trying to shake away the weakness of sleep, he put his head in his hands. Brown eyes were glowing a sinister red and he wanted them to stop. The magic was all around him, eclipsing his mind and, for a moment, that other magic in the back, always ready to leap forwards-
No!
He pushed the thoughts of it away, not wanting to wake to caged beasts, and bit his lip. It could be pushed away. The magic didn't control him. He had done it before. Multiple times.
(but this time the magic was more strong and more powerful and more him than it had ever been)
Truthfully, he'd forgotten Kahlan was there.
But she was pulling his hands away from his face; looking deep into furiously red eyes with a smile that should not be so gentle.
He tried to pull his hands from her grip but she held firm, a degree of sternness in her eyes. "Don't hide from me Richard."
Meeting her blue eyed gaze, he replied softly. "I don't want you to see this. I'm-"
"Struggling to control a power you have never had to use for so long. The sword of truths magic is with you every day. That was never supposed to be. It's going to take time for you to adjust. But don't hide from me. Nothing you can do can ever turn me away." Kahlan interrupted.
The power was raging in his mind; a storm of turbulence and power and chaos that he could not control. It was inhuman. It was a force of truth and anger. It was a crescendo of voices that weren't him but wanted to be. An endless string of words and sentences that the magic sent shattering through his mind. It was loud and furious and the whispers hurt. And he wanted it to shut up. "It's baiting me. Trying to turn me into…spirits, I don't even know. But it's mindless. Just rage. And- I can't control it Kahlan. I- I just…can't. And- I don't think I ever will."
But she continued looking his blazing eyes with a fierceness that matched the magic. A love that even the sword of truths power could not match. "Don't give up! Your stronger than the magic. The power. It can not take you. It will not take you. You're here, with me, don't let it. I'm never letting you go."
He nodded, relaxing in her grip. Because she was right. The power, the negativity, the darkness of the sword could never match up to anything he felt for Kahlan. He loved her and he wasn't going to let some damn sword change that.
Slowly, the glow faded from his eyes.
The rest of the morning was relatively quiet.
He was…ashamed of losing control like that. It wasn't like him. And, even now, he could feel the power, both powers, swirling anxiously in his mind. Ready to be used. And he didn't know what to do. The power never left. It was never exhausted. The moment he used it the magic recharged in that instant.
He was a male Confessor.
The term made him freeze. Somehow, in the confusion and shock, he had forgotten what he was. A male Confessor. One of the race that had gone insane and almost destroyed the world. And now he was one. How could he possibly be allowed to use the power? He wasn't going to destroy the world. He wouldn't let himself. Because, with this power, was there anything he couldn't do?
"We need a Rada'han." he said calmly.
Kahlan looked at him in shock. "What?"
"I'm a male Confessor Kahlan." Richard told her. He sounded calmer than he felt. "You know what that means."
"What of it?" she said without hesitation, eyes challenging. "What difference does it make?"
"Kahlan. How long before I go insane and start Confessing people just because I can? You know better than anyone that male Confessors can't handle the power. The fact that they recharge so quickly makes them dangerous. It makes me dangerous. " Richard told her, words hurried, urgency in his tone. "We need a Rada'han."
It was a long time before Kahlan answered him. "I won't do that to you."
"You must." he replied, softening his tone.
"No," she said, fiercer this time. "I won't lock part of you away because we fear it. Because maybe it's time for a change. You…you haven't grown up with the power. You haven't had the temptation for your whole life. And you're good, Richard, and I don't, no I won't, believe that you will go mad."
"It's not worth the risk."
"Yes," Kahlan whispered. "It is."
And so the next day she started to teach him how to use hispower.
(their power)
It was all about control, practise, being able to pull and contain the power and not letting it overwhelm you. Richard was glad he had decided not to go back to the other camp. Because his magic would release at odd times; whenever he let his guard down. But, for now, it would dissipate harmlessly in the air. Kahlan told him how to control it; that he was the one in command, that he was the only one that could tell the power to Confess. That only he could do that.
But he needed practise. And it was hard.
Every day they moved on, following the trail of the mysterious figures, but Richard never let himself go near anyone except Kahlan. He couldn't. Every time he thought back to those coal black eyes staring into his own…
Well, it wasn't a pleasant thought.
And then there was the rage. It would hit him with a force Confession could only dream of. And down he'd go; falling into an endless stream of anger and rage. Eyes would glow. And, suddenly, he would want to destroy the whole world. But, pulling himself out of his thoughts, he focused his attention on Kahlan. She was trying to get him to relax; to lose his fear of his magic. But he couldn't. He just couldn't.
(and there was the swords magic rolling through his mind like it did every single second of every single minute of every single day trying to break free as it turned his eyes red)
He forced the glowing to stop. And listened to Kahlan.
"Being a Confessor isn't something to be scared of it's-"
But Richard interrupted her, suddenly thoughtful, thinking back to something she had said a little while ago. A few days ago.
"Why do Confessors wear white?"
Kahlan paused at the question; head tilted to the side serenely, a smile on her lips and love shining from bright blue eyes. "Part of being a Confessor, a part you're going to have a accept, is knowing why we wear white. I can't tell you."
He scowled but when she laughed at his expression he couldn't help but join in.
The anger was shoved away. The fear dissipated for the time being.
The next thing she said was poised more hesitantly. "Zedd hopes that you're going to come back soon. He's worried. And Cara…wishes for you to stop being such an idiot."
Richard bit his lip; wanting her to understand. "I don't want to hurt them."
Somehow her soft smile made all the fears melt away.
"I know."
And he realised that, when he was with her, the magic was always easier to calm.
It was a long time before he trusted himself enough to join his group properly.
But, when he did, he found nothing had really changed. Him being a Confessor changed nothing; he was still the Seeker. Nothing had really changed at all. Everything that had been there was still there. Except the sword of truth was in a different form. Him. But that didn't seem to matter. Because Zedd gave him the same fatherly grin he'd always gave him. And Cara only raised an eyebrow in a 'you've been such an idiot' way.
But Richard still felt out of place.
It was weird and odd and he didn't understand. He wasn't that much different. Only a Confessor. So he didn't understand why he felt so…
Odd.
But he had got control of his power. He didn't randomly lose control anymore. And even the swords magic had calmed slightly in his mind.
So why did he miss the time spent alone with Kahlan?
He missed the forest. The camp where it had just been him and Kahlan; two Confessors. With her he felt unnaturally grounded, titles were stripped away, with her he was more and less than the Seeker and Confessor he couldn't normally escape being. But now he was out in the open, out of the wild, surrounded by the stumps of trees that could no longer hide him. He was the Seeker again. He was a Confessor.
And he was going to just have to deal with it.
Cara approached him first. Zedd was going to be his typical self and let Richard come to him. But the Mord'sith just sauntered up to him casually. Smiling despite himself, Richard waited to see what she would say.
"So you decided to come back." she said with a raised eyebrow. Respect for her 'Lord Rahl' tinged with a protectiveness he had gotten used to and a stubbornness he was still learning to understand coloured her tone.
"Seems I did." Richard replied with a smile. The unease was melting away. Maybe his titles weren't so bad after all.
(the anger rolled up in a random surge that Richard had grown to expect but he shoved it back down)
Cara shrugged. Her blue green eyes rolled upwards for a moment. "Zedd says that to tell you that we can't separate the sword of truth from you. Personally, I think it's a good thing, it cuts my responsibilities in half."
His curiosity overpowered his sudden regret. He suspected she had phrased her statement like that on purpose. "Why?"
A wicked smile. "The previously high chances of you losing the sword of truth have dropped to zero."
She sauntered off to the sound of his laughter; and he missed the satisfied smile on her face.
They stopped by a village.
The townspeople recognised them. Everybody did nowadays. And though they cast wary looks at Cara, looks he wanted to wipe off their faces, they were welcoming. Richard tried to ignore the eyes that searched for the sword of truth.
The village was small; just a few hundred people, if that, and a large town hall. A quick look around showed that they had been attacked recently and Richard had no idea why the mysterious black cloaked figures that he had met would attack such a small village. Conversations with the townspeople didn't get much information. And one of the most unsettling part of the whole thing was that Richard could see it in their eyes when they lied.
It was almost written there for him to read.
They discovered that they had been attacked in the night seven days before and killed a few people before moving on. Richard had frowned at the senseless killing, momentarily forgetting about the curious eyes that didn't see the sword of truth, before he found an answer.
They were leaving a trail.
But why?
Zedd couldn't answer him and Cara and Kahlan only wore thoughtful looks when he told them his theory. But there was only one explanation. They wanted to be followed. They wanted Richard to catch up to them.
Magic flared in a blaze of white and he didn't bother hiding his glowing eyes. He remembered his attackers words 'round one goes to me' and his eyes narrowed.
Because that, in itself, suggested a round two.
Kahlan loved flowers.
They were at a market and the woman had stopped to smell a pile of a dozen flowers tied together with a ribbon at one of the stalls. Cara and Zedd were already far ahead. And Richard recognised that smile on her face. It was one she only gave to something she was incredibly fond of. The flowers were daisies; grouped together, at the height of their beauty, having been picked at exactly the right time.
The Confessor had looked up from them and said to the owner of the stall "Can I have them?"
The question was unnaturally excited, almost childlike, and Richard couldn't catch his smile. Could the man really have refused? But Kahlan didn't seem to realise this as she paid for the flowers; holding them in her hands gently. As they walked off, Richard caught her smelling them happily when she thought he wasn't looking. The path took them deep into the forest, the camp far from the village, and when they passed a pond Richard bent down and picked a water lily.
Striding back next to her, he slid it into her hair, right by her ear.
She froze, turning to him, one hand lightly touching the flower by her ear. And then she was hiding a blinding smile. "No ones ever given me a flower before."
And then he realised just what her duty cost her.
Kahlan's eyes turned black as night.
She had been asked to perform a Confession. They had moved to another village, discovered more and more killings, and one had not been carried out by any foreign invaders. The woman was accused of the murder, tried and practically sentenced, and the court wanted to prove she was guilty. No one knew the truth. But Kahlan was going to help them find out. Richard felt the most uncomfortable he had ever been in his life. But he watched anyway. As did everyone else.
He remembered the coal black shade of the mans eyes.
They had been empty, devoid, and the sheer magnitude of how that black seemed to stretch forever had shaken Richard. Because the power had been like that, hadn't it? Black. Dark. Like death. And for an instant, just an instant, that colour, that shade, had seemed to take up the whole world. Had seemed to take and take and take any remaining light. Because maybe, just maybe, that was what Confessing was. Maybe the power was evil. Because it stole a persons soul. And it made them fall head over heels in love with the Confessor. But the love was always perverted. Always that of master and slave; even without it meaning to be.
And that, that, was dark.
That was why Kahlan hadn't wanted him Confessed. Because it would destroy them. It would destroy the purity of what they had. The freedom to love.
The power had been created in a war.
To tip the scales. To win. And that's all it was, a weapon. It was something to be used to enslave; a cleaner more efficient way than Mord'Sith.
But Richard knew now, maybe, why Confessors wore white.
He looked at Kahlan; her hand on the kneeling woman's throat, eyes blank with power, white dress billowing in the slight wind.
Because power could be tempered by humanity. Power was used by a person. Always. And the way that person used the power governed what it did. And maybe even what it was. So maybe Confession had been created as evil. But was it evil now? No. Because the people who wielded it used it for justice. They used it for peace. To try and better the world; to bring back a lighter time. Perhaps sometimes they slipped…but the white was always there to remind them.
Because it embodied their duty, they wore those dresses everywhere, and it was everything they were. Everything they believed in. They wore white to remind them, to remind everyone, that they lived to seek the truth and destroy wrongdoing.
They wore those white dresses because it was their duty to be more than what the pitch black eyes of a Confessor using their power implied.
The hilltop was flat.
There were no trees, no shelter, just a wide expanse of grass. The sun was high in the sky; soft with a dimmer light that what was normal for this time of day. A heavier sky stretched lazily in front of the sun, clouds a silvery grey shot with a gentle blue. High enough for a good view, but not enough to be a mountain, the hilltop looked out onto a wide forest on one side and a large village on the other. Trees gathered together in an effort to shield the forest floor from prying eyes and the village, in it's own way, did the same.
Richard stood on the hill with Kahlan. Looking out.
"I want to thank you." Richard said, taking one of her hands, turning to look earnestly into her eyes. Her blue ones stared back "You helped me through everything. When I first got my powers…when I had to learn to control them. I felt different. The power was always there. Trying to drown me. But you were there too. And-"
You kept me human, he wanted to say, you grounded me.
But he didn't know how to put it; so he reached into his pocket and pulled out a necklace. He had carved it himself, spent hours deciding what to make her and then a little while more doing it when she wasn't looking. Because he wanted this to be special. He knew how consumed her life was by her duty, by what she thought she had to be and didn't realise she already was, and he wanted to do something for her. He wanted to help her, the woman he loved, the way she helped him. Sheepishly, suddenly shy, he handed the necklace to her.
She took it gently out of his hand; staring at the small carving for a moment with a look of wonder.
It was a water lily carved from a small piece of wood he had bought a few days back. The wood was an in-between shade; neither light nor dark. The detail was one of the best he had down, petals curving serenely, almost seeming to sway in a light breeze.
"You said you'd never been given flowers so-" he paused again with a slight frown.
So I made this for you, he thought, I made this to represent that woman you hide behind the duty of a Confessor.
Kahlan looked up at him with a wide grin; eyes shining with the little girl she had never been allowed to be. This time she didn't hide her blinding smile. "What does it mean?"
He smiled softly and took the necklace out of her hands before undoing the clasp on the silver chain he had got her and putting it on her. "You know what it means."
Nodding gently, she held the flower up to her face, examining the detail. But she didn't say anything. So Richard continued speaking. Trying to tell her what he wanted to tell her. "You don't have to be a Confessor around me, Kahlan, you don't have to let your duty hold you back. Because your power can't touch me. There is no chance of you being…evil around me. Around anyone actually. I love you. I love you more than any Confession could ever make me love. Because we both know that that is not love. Not really. Not even close. I'm free to love you. And I do."
He understood her. Because he shared her power.
Kahlan clutched the carving in her hand. "We negate each others powers. With each other…we're just a man and a woman."
Her voice held a note of wonder and Richard smiled. They were still themselves, they still had everything that made them up, but together they didn't need to be everything the world saw them as. They weren't two Confessors, they weren't two warriors, the weren't the Lord Rahl and the Mother Confessor. They were everything and less and more than their titles.
They were Richard and Kahlan.
"And I need you to remember that." he whispered, kissing her softly on the lips. "That necklace symbolises-"
It was at that moment that the clouds decided to release that water they were storing.
The rain splattered down in torrents; there was no gentle start from light to heavy, just a sudden downpour that soaked both Richard and Kahlan to the bone in a matter of seconds. They both laughed, not minding at all, and Richard found himself completely at peace. It was a pleasant feeling. Both powers in his mind were quiet. The rolling rage of the sword of truth distant; the quiet cold of his Confessors power but a murmur.
Richard kissed Kahlan again.
He didn't know what the future would be. He didn't know whether he would eventually go mad with his powers. The black figures that had attacked him were still out there, waiting, but they would still be there tomorrow. Richard didn't know what their plan was, what they were going to do, but he knew that he would try and stop them. The future was a distant place and the present was immediate. The world was there, and he would always be there to defend it. Times might be hard, he might go crazy tomorrow, or die, but tomorrow wasn't today. And he wasn't going to pretend it was.
He was different.
Richard knew that. He knew that he had gained a power. Became something else. But he'd gotten over that. In the moments spent with Kahlan, in the times learning how to live with his magic, he had got past that. What he was now, what he had become, had allowed him to be with Kahlan.
And he never wanted to give that up.
He'd take his life one day, one step, at a time. But, right now, he was with the woman he loved and he was happy. He shivered slightly and Kahlan laughed. The rain was still coming down. Both their hair was plastered to their heads. Their clothes soaked.
And at that moment they were just a man and a woman; dancing in the rain.
Hey, erm, sooo…this was very long. Like my usual rubbish. I don't know whether it came out right but…I can only hope that you enjoyed it.
My writing seems to follow a theme. Confessor stuff. Hmm…
This was born from a random thought about what would happen if the sword of truth was destroyed? I'm a R/K shipper person so it evolved into this. Becoming a (hopefully) look into Confessors and their power. I thought it was interesting how the woman wear white when their eyes go black. And, to be honest, Confession is kinda a dark power O_o I don't know whether any of you will agree but…that's what I think. Sorry about the lack of Zedd and Cara…I can't write them. At all. But I did try. And this story thingy wasn't really all about them. Of course they are important, but the focus was Richard and Kahlan. This is a stand alone. The mysterious people grew into slightly more than I wanted them to be. Because originally they were just a means to an end (no sword) but I think they kinda became more. Thanks for reading. Hope ya drop a review XD.
Any questions about my oddness…just PM me or something.
Sorry about the long authors note. I'm going now lol.