DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything related to Legend of the Seeker. I just love the show.
ooo LL ooo
Darken Rahl, tyrannical lord and terror of the Midlands, was afraid.
It wasn't only the fact that the Seeker now possessed all three boxes of Orden. That had him positively terrified, although he could not reveal this to anyone, not even loyal Egremon. No, Rahl had an even greater fear just now: his own weakness.
He sat stroking the little orange kitten as it nuzzled back and forth against his stomach. Such a strange feeling, he thought, noting its warmth, its innocence, the way it gave its love and trust so freely.
Like the girl.
The kiss on his cheek had startled him. In that moment he had all but jumped backwards, eyes wide with shock. The brush of her lips against his skin was utterly unexpected – and yet, somehow, not unwelcome. He had forgotten the feeling of a gentle touch. His mother's hand had been the last, and that had gone into a time past remembering - that time before wizard's fire destroyed his father and scarred his body in the process. So deep in his subconscious had the memory gone that he no longer even knew her face - only the warm, soft feeling that the girl's touch had evoked. His lovers among the Sisters of the Agiel had never been gentle. They were incapable of either love or tenderness; the breaking of a Mord Sith required that they lose these traits that came so naturally to most women. He had taken women also, trying to satisfy the void within him, to no avail. It was by one of these that he'd sired two children - Richard, the man he feared most in the world, the man who was unaware that he was his son - and Jensen, the profoundly ungifted girl who had lost her memories.
Rahl knew that the most effective web of lies contained elements of the truth - holding it together, giving it the cohesiveness of believability that a full lie could never achieve. He had spun an excellent web for Jensen, but among its fibers, he had included more of the truth than was necessary. He had revealed their familial connection. Not sister, he thought now, as the kitten's low purr rumbled against his skin, daughter. With his youthful appearance, she never would have believed him to be her sire anyway – but in this way, he could be even closer to her. A trusted brother, not a rogue father who had never come to claim her. It was almost too perfect.
What frightened him was that a part of him wanted to believe the lie. That through the lie, he might endear her to him - a trusted ally, one that he could mold into whatever he desired. Not a Mord Sith, cruel and cold and hard; not a servant or a soldier, clinging to him out of fear. A companion, choosing to be at his side of her own free will.
Why need I a companion? he wondered then. Perhaps because, despite the allure of ultimate power, it means to be always alone. To never trust. To never know peace. And… I tire of being always alone. Always afraid.
His own weakness astonished him. A companion, of all things. Why should he need such a trifle? A burden? Yet, when he imagined Jensen returning to him with the boxes of Orden, a small smile traced his lips. So quickly, Jensen had shown him her affection - and so sincerely. She would defend him against the Seeker. Against any who opposed him. Not out of fear, but out of love and trust.
She is a means to an end, he warned himself, not daring to hope too quickly. Should she prove useful, then I may entertain thoughts of bringing her nearer to me. A pet, on whom I can lavish benevolence without fear. One who can see me as I wish to be seen; more loyal even than Demmin Nass or Egremon. The thought delighted him. Such a companion might ease the burden of loneliness. Much as the kitten was doing now. Odd, how holding something so fragile and soft in these deadly hands could change his feelings - to want to protect, even love. Strange indeed.
But his uncharacteristically tender line of thinking was cut short with Egremon's arrival - and his news. Jensen had remembered. And she had chosen to help the Seeker. His instinct to kill and destroy returned along with his fear and anger. His hands involuntarily followed that instinct, and squeezed. The crunching sound of the kitten's neck breaking reminded him of his foolishness. That he must never give in to such flighty thoughts as love and companionship. He was alone. He would always be alone. Burned. Scarred. Unwanted. Unloved.
He would make the world pay for his suffering.