Title: "Field of Shattered Innocence"
Characters:Richard Cypher, Denna, Cara, Constance, Lord Darken Rahl, Kahlan Amnell (only mentioned), Zeddicus Zu'l Zorander (only mentioned);
Episode: Denna, 1x08;
Scenes: From the ending of Richard's first training session with Denna, to right before she talks to him about the Agiel and the pain she feels wielding it;
Rating: PG-13
Timeline: Richard is captured by the Mord-Sith Denna after having been to Kalabra and having met the witch-woman Shota;
Story Type: Angst/Drama
Spoilers:all episodes of Season One up to Denna, plus references and characters from Reckoning (1x22);
Short Summary: Denna unwillingly lets Constance and another fellow Mord-Sith play with her toy, while she is "attending to other duties".
A/N: I would like to thank Sylvia (halliwelldream) for being so awesome in her beta-work. She did an amazing job & this would've probably been a grammatical disaster if it weren't for her! So, thanks!
***
She was walking through the dark corridors, looking forward to what was about to happen. The shadowy walls, made of thick yellowish blocks of stone, seemed to entirely suck the already feeble light emanating from the torches.
Her long legs moved swiftly around the place she knew so well. She turned right and found herself exactly where she should have been, but she dared not take another step. She heard a grunt. She thought about the prisoner inside and smiled: he was not having a pleasant time.
She could not see what was happening, but there was not much room for imagination. Denna was the best. One of the most cruel and ruthless Mord-Sith to have ever lived. She was able to prolong the suffering of one man to the extreme, as no other of their kind could. Cara was almost envious of her abilities. Of course, she too was very good at her job, but not as good as Mistress Denna.
Nonetheless, she was here now. Lord Rahl had sent her to this temple, not to see the progress of their newest acquisition, as was usual, but to ask Denna to report to him.
Personally.
"If I… touch you here," she heard Denna's velvet voice, "with the Agiel, your heart will stop. Now tell me: who were you with?"
Cara stood waiting. Before making her presence known, she was curious to know what he would answer. She knew the Seeker was not just any common enemy for Lord Rahl. He was his worst threat and she and her sister Mord-Sith, as his personal guards, were obliged to protect him from such dangers. She had asked her Master if she could train him herself, but he had refused to let her. Denna was better. Everyone knew it and so did Darken Rahl.
"Rahl wants me alive, you said so yourself, " the Seeker started. "If you kill me… imagine what he'd do to you." Although she could not see it, Cara was sure he had a smirk on his face, unafraid, as if he was not in the presence of probably one of the most dangerous persons alive.
Arrogance. Just what Lord Rahl needed. This one sure has spirit, Cara thought trying to suppress an uninvited and unexpected smile. Denna, apparently, did not have everything under control as she had let on at the time of the capture. That impertinent remark would surely cause him a lot of trouble though.
Unable to restrain her curiosity any longer, Cara stepped forward and stopped right in front of the doorless room without crossing the threshold. He was hanging over a well in the middle of the dimly illuminated chamber; his chest bared and his forearms already bloody because of the deep cuts inflicted by the shackles at his wrists. On the other side of the gloomy stone room, stood Mistress Constance, there to help violently lower the prisoner when necessary, but obviously enjoying the whole scene.
Denna was in front of him, her back turned, and she was starting to walk away. She climbed down the platform and took another step. Cara could see rage twisting her beautiful features. The Seeker's comment did not go unnoticed. Before anyone could do anything, she turned around and slammed her Agiel in his chest. Right above the heart. The Seeker jerked in agony, the shackles diving deeper into his flesh while that terrible instrument of torture did its gruesome work. He probably desired to scream at the top of his lungs, but the pain was too unbearable and he only managed a weak rumbling grunt.
Denna harshly removed her Agiel as he went slack. His lifless body was left hanging.
***
She turned around at the strange sound produced by hands covered with leather clapping.
"Mistress Denna," the slender, tall figure started as she walked toward where she stood. "Great demonstration of mercilessness. I am impressed." Her tone seemed to be hiding a hint of scorn.
"To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, Cara?" Denna asked genuinely pleased at seeing the friendly face. She then turned to the brown-haired Mord-Sith.
"Thank you for your help, Constance. You may go now."
The other nodded as she started towards the door on the left side of the room, but Cara stopped her.
"Actually, Constance, you should stay. I need you to do something. Lord Rahl's wish."
"So, Sister, speak. What is it you are doing in this temple?" Denna asked, irritated by the sudden change of influence. Although there were no ranks among Mord-Sith, it was always useful to have someone maintain order and instruct the others in the absence of Lord Rahl. Denna had always been respected as such a figure. She was not pleased to have someone, even if sent by the Lord Rahl himself, who dared challenge this authority.
"Master Rahl is not far. He's in a temple half a day's walk from here and he wants you to report to him personally," Cara answered in an even voice.
"Why would that be?" she asked, suddenly concerned by the change in procedure.
"He has his reasons."
She paused as she started pacing the room casually. "But I heard it's because he has been told, by a source unknown to me, that you are being too…" she waved her hand, then tapped her chin, trying to find the right word. "…Kind? With our newly acquired pet. There are some who think you have developed some kind of soft spot for this one, Denna."
"Kind?" Denna asked bewildered. She pointed with her arm to the limp body still hanging by the shackles at her right. "This to you looks like a kind treatment?" She could not believe what she was hearing. She was the best and this was just another toy to play with. A very dangerous toy, but nothing more.
"Well, for instance, I can't see much blood. Granting death, even if for a limited time seems to me like… mercy?" Cara continued, while walking around Richard's body, scrutinizing him. "I have often seen your other prisoners beg you for a chance to die, but you never allowed them to. You always kept them alive, until they reached a point where every bit of sanity slowly evaporated from their minds. But, him? He's dead – for the moment, at least. But for now he is not in agony. Not suffering."
"By doing this merciful thing, as you called it, I have created a bond between us. A bond that will make itself evident as soon as I revive him. Then, he will be mine. You know this and you will not contest my ways!" Denna's anger was rising.
"Oh, Sister, it's not me," she smiled wickedly. "It is Lord Rahl who thinks you are sleeping on your job. I think you'd better make him believe you or … well, you know better than I do what he is capable of when someone displeases him." The smile broadened.
Cara then turned toward the door she had entered only a few minutes before, she put a hand on the stone and added "You will be leaving after you revive him. Constance will take your place while you are away."
She turned her head to face Denna. Both bodies as still as stone, raging with unspoken tension. Cara relaxed.
"Who knows, maybe, after Constance is finished, there will be enough of him left for me to enjoy," she said smiling and then disappeared in the blackness of the corridor.
"Guards!" Denna called angrily.
Two big soldiers in D'Haran uniforms appeared in the doorframe. Both acknowledged her with a nod and a slight bow.
"Take him off the shackles," she ordered, her tone furious as she stormed out of the room.
***
"So, I want you to create a refuge in your mind," she continued while gently caressing his sweaty hair. "As you did before." He did not understand. He had been punished for trying to escape the torture.
"But you told me not to think of Kahlan," he voiced his doubt.
She leaned over.
"I want you to think of me," she whispered softly in his ear. She stood and walked away, leaving him to face an expressionless Constance. She gave a quick nod to the two guards standing at her back, who hurried towards him. They picked him up as if he weighed nothing and shackled him again.
This was going to be a very long day.
But how could he worry about himself? How could he be so selfish? I have other duties to attend to today, she had told him. What other duties? Mistress Denna's distress had been evident; her voice was not as calm as it usually was. She would not let fear show, but that is what he thought he had seen in her eyes. Just a glimpse, for a few seconds, but he was sure. She had been afraid.
He had no idea what had happened while he was… dead. He was concerned. Someone, inside his head, from the deepest corner of his mind, was screaming at him. The words were muffled and inaudible. He could not make them out, but forced himself to.
Kahlan's face appeared. Her features twisted in pain while an Agiel was pressed against her back. Her scream muted by the agony he knew so well. Denna wielding the weapon. He shook his head, trying to remove the awful image from his mind. How could he be worrying about Denna? She was torturing him and, given the chance, she would probably do the same to Kahlan. She had killed Zedd. How could he care for her? Something told him he should.
And he did.
He felt a hot burning pain in his thigh, where Constance had just hit him with her Agiel. Denna had been right, she was brutal. She was keeping the contact and soon he could feel warm liquid running down his leg. He opened his eyes and saw a figure at the end of the room. Her back was pressed against the wall, her arms crossed below her breasts. When she noticed he was silently watching her, she smiled and started caressing her long blonde braid with her right hand.
Constance continued her quiet torture. She had not spoken a word since entering. He did not know why but this made the whole ordeal a lot more distressful. At least Denna stopped once in a while to tease him – with words and without her Agiel. It gave him time to rest, to think, to resist. But with Constance? Every second was characterized by the agonizing touch of the small leather rod. His ability to think was starting to fade away, as all his efforts were concentrated in trying to remain conscious and endure the suffering.
I want you to think of me, she had told him. Denna. Denna had told him to try and escape – even if only with his mind. It had worked once before, with whom he could not remember, but it had worked. He started picturing her in his head and smiled.
He was overwhelmed by her beauty. Her full lips, her deep azure eyes, her long golden locks, her almost childlike features. She was so beautiful. She leaned over, like the last time he had seen her, but she did not whisper in his ear. She kissed him. Her soft red lips touched his gently, with her braid undone, her hair brushed his cheek. He longed for her, he wanted to touch, to caress, her beautiful hair, but he was too exhausted even for such a simple gesture.
He did not want the kiss to end, but it did. He tried to lift his arm, to pull her back to him, but his body did not seem to function. She looked down at him, locked her eyes with his and smiled.
He did too, lost in the depth of her irises. He was bathing in the warmth of her body, in her splendour. She bent again and kissed him with the same tenderness and passion.
The pain was no more.
***
She was getting bored and started pacing across the room. He had come around only once since Constance had started working on him. She was one of the most brutal, but certainly not one of the most talented.
She had not even realized he was not feeling anything – or almost. He was escaping. He had found a place to hide, to block the pain and she had not seen it. He had opened his eyes and looked straight at Cara. In that moment she could see the pain glistening in his stare, but instants later he had again slipped into the safety and protection of his own mind. He was strong and he had something – or someone – to live for or he would not be able to resist such a fierce touch. Lord Rahl had been right to assign him to Denna. In order to break him, he needed to be trained by someone intelligent as well as ruthless. Constance was not nearly enough to accomplish such a task.
The Mord-Sith stopped to catch a breath. She had been at it for the past four hours, without interruption. She was methodical; every blow was studied, very much like a dance. But it had worn her out. As mighty and powerful as Mord-Sith are, they too need breaks every once in a while. Mere seconds after, with a flick of her wrist, the Agiel, hanging from the small golden chain, was back in her hand.
She started walking around the limp body, studying it meticulously. His anatomy was perfect. Every muscle was flawlessly built and that made it much easier to choose the right spot to inflict pain. Fat gets in the way sometimes, but with a body like that, it was almost impossible to miss.
Suddenly, Constance arrested her tour. She had found what she was looking for. She started her Agiel towards the cavity formed by the muscles of his neck and the collarbone. Cara jumped forward, grabbing her wrists and stopped her hand midway.
"What do you think you are doing?" Cara asked.
"He's not responding, I need to give him more pain," she answered in a calm cold voice, but Cara could sense a hint of irritation in her tone.
"That could kill him – or worse."
"I will not let that happen," Constance continued trying to force her arm free to carry on her action. Cara was not about to let her. The Seeker was too valuable; she was here to see the job done, but also to prevent accidents such as the prisoner's premature death. The prolonged touch of an Agiel on that particular spot of the body could cause unimaginable pain, which, consequently, could bring, in more cases than wished for, death or do irreparable damage to the captive's mind.
"You cannot be sure about that. If it was only death, I would let you do it without hesitation. The breath of life could bring him back, but I don't want him damaged. Lord Rahl wants him intact, if not in the body and the spirit, certainly in his mind. I cannot allow this, I'm sorry," she said firmly. It was not a request, nor a suggestion. It was an order.
Cara let go of her hand and Constance dropped her wrist to her side.
"As you wish," she answered. "Maybe Mistress Cara would like to try?" she continued attempting to keep her voice respectful, but hiding irreverence and defiance behind it.
"Why not?" She said accepting the offer. "I will take over from now until Mistress Denna returns," she continued stepping on the platform in the centre of the room. "Your services are no longer required."
She turned toward the other woman and smiled. Constance's lips twitched up in a stiff smile and she walked away.
***
Someone was touching his chin. He carefully opened his eyelids and found himself face to face with a woman he had never seen. Her leather-covered hand was holding his face in a firm grip, incapacitating any movement of his head. His vision was blurry, but he could make out most of her features. Blonde hair collected in the braid typical of her profession, ice-blue eyes, straight nose. Strikingly beautiful, but nonetheless very different from Mistress Denna. He blinked trying, in vain, to adjust his sight. Her warm breath tickled his skin, her other hand, free of the leather glove, was caressing his hurting chest.
"Where… Mistress?" he managed to moan.
"I had to send her away. Did you like her touch? A bit… excessive, don't you think?" she asked in a soft voice.
He was confused. Why had she sent her away? Mistress Denna was the very best. She was not at all excessive. Where was she? Was she hurting? Was she alright? What if she was being punished because of him? He could not bear to think that. He had to defend her. He had to try to find a remedy, to find and save her if necessary.
"Mistress…D-Denna is the best."
She seemed surprised.
"Oh," she stepped back and his chin slammed into his chest. He tried to look up. "You're talking about Denna," she smiled.
Now, he was even more confused. Who else? And then another face came to his mind. Sharp traits, black eyes, brown hair: Constance. He had completely forgotten about her. His Mistress had left him with her and apparently this other Mord-Sith. She had more important business to attend to. Of course, now it made sense.
"She is with Lord Rahl," the woman continued. "You have been trained by Mistress Constance all morning, can you not recall it?" She did not look surprised anymore.
He carefully thought about his answer. Mistress Denna was with Lord Rahl and that was bad news. It meant that she was in trouble. Because of him. He had not been good enough and she was being punished because of it. What if he said no? This would certainly make things easier for his Mistress. It would mean that Constance's touch was not nearly as efficient as Mistress Denna's. But what if this other Mord-Sith knew he was lying? He did not know her, he had no idea what she would do to him. Maybe his lie would have repercussions on his Mistress too. He had to try.
"Slightly," he decided for a half-truth. "I had… forgotten, now I… remember…something," he faltered. He had caught some of his breath, but hanging like that did not make breathing easy, much less talking.
"Well," she started walking back to him. "Now, it will be my pleasure. And don't worry, Seeker. You will not forget this time," she smiled wickedly, positioning her bare hand where it had been before. She took a step back and suddenly replaced it with her Agiel.
He screamed, longing for his Mistress' touch.
Escape did not come.
***
She was anxiously walking through the familiar gloomy corridors. The torches were lit, but did not emit enough light to illuminate the length of these passageways. She was nervous, she knew what was bound to happen a few minutes from now, but she kept walking. She was Mord-Sith. There was not much more to add.
The sound her boots made against the stone floor echoed throughout the place. It was unnerving. She tried to slow her pace, but Lord Rahl was expecting her. It had taken her longer than she had anticipated to reach this temple. He had been waiting long enough. She dared not give him another reason to punish her.
She started again, faster.
In a few seconds she was facing a big oak door. It was simple, nothing was carved on it. Just plain wood. But there might as well have been vicious snakes on it because just the sight of it gave her shivers.
Denna summoned all the courage she had and knocked. Instants later, the door squeaked open. The guard on the other side bowed his head in respect and exited the room. In the centre of it, Master Darken Rahl, with his blood red robes, sat majestically on a chair that looked more like a throne just by his presence. He waved his hand and the other three guards followed the first out.
"Denna," he started. The word, spoken in that warm velvet voice she had known for so long, cut through her. She stepped forward, bowing her head.
"My Lord," she acknowledged him, not daring straighten herself yet.
"Denna," he repeated. "Why, why, why?"
She could hear him stand and shorten the distance between them. In a few strides he was right in front of her. With a finger under her chin, he made her look at him.
"Why, Denna?" he asked again. "Why do you make me do these things to you?"
She remained silent. She knew what this meant. She knew what was about to happen. She knew what he was about to do to her. When he did not continue, she spoke. Her voice submissive, low with dread and fearfully respectful.
"I am sorry, my Lord."
"Of course you are, Denna," he continued. She bent on her knees, while he started pacing around her. "You know you are my favourite, Denna. But I cannot let this pass. Will you deny the accusations?"
"If my Lord thinks they are true, I deserve all that you have in store for me," she answered, fearing to contradict him.
"Are they, Denna?" he bent, facing her and forcing her to look in his eyes, "Are they true?"
She could not answer. She did not know what to answer. Punishment would come. She was certain of it, no matter what she said right now.
"My Lord, I have done my best to ensure the success of the Seeker's training. He will be mine to bend to your wishes. Soon. I assure you, but if you believe I have not done enough, then do as you must, my Lord."
He did not speak for a long time. She wished she could stop her body from trembling, she did not want Lord Rahl seeing such a weakness; but she was not able to. Minutes passed, her heart pounded in her head, faster and faster, as he decided her fate. He would not kill her. That was certain, but since she was a little girl, she had learnt that there was much more to fear. Some of those things were far worse than death. She was an expert in that. After all, it was her job: making people long for that sweet release, the appealing eternal peace or nothingness.
He stopped abruptly, and so did her breathing.
"Stand."
She did as commanded and looked at him. "You shall go back to your trainee," he started. "Tomorrow. In the meantime, you will be staying here. You probably know better than I do what you must do during this time."
Unfortunately she did. "Yes, my Lord," she swallowed.
"Good," he sat back in his chair, running a hand through his shoulder-length black hair. "You may go now."
"Yes, my Lord. Thank you, my Lord," she whispered. She bowed and started towards the door.
"And Denna," she stopped. "Do not disappoint me. Again."
"I will not, my Lord."
She released a breath she had not known she had been holding and unsteadily walked out the door, waiting to face some of those things far worse than death.
***
She was cold. The leather outfit covered most of her body, leaving only her face exposed to the fresh air, but the morning chill was able to penetrate her bones as if she wore nothing.
She hurt all over; every fibre of her sore muscles ached with each step she took, but she kept walking.
Se tried to ignore the discomfort, to suppress the suffering she was in; she only wanted to reach her temple as soon as possible.
But, despite her desperate will to go on, she had to concentrate very hard just to accomplish the usually simple act of walking. The woods were still engulfed in some sort of semi-darkness that did not allow her to see as well as she would have liked to; the dawn sunlight was veiled by a thick layer of mist, which prevented the already faint rays from infiltrating the foliage of the bulky trees surrounding the exhausted Mord-Sith. Every movement, no matter how insignificant, sent a shock of pain throughout her whole body; with each stride her wobbly legs became more and more unsure; her hands groped trunks, leaves and dirt as if trying to help her strenuous hike and make her wavering climb more steady. She knew she could not hold on much longer. The sleepless nightmarish night spent at the temple had almost completely drained her of every ounce of strength.
But she had to keep walking. She had to keep walking faster.
If she got to the temple before the end of the day, she could again start working on the Seeker. If she was able to break him soon, she could then get some rest, heal from her injuries. But not before; she had a task to complete. She was Mord-Sith.
The thought brought her to her senses. As her pace became firmer, her mind slipped to distant memories of her childhood, of times before her training.
Like every child, she had longed for her parent's approval, afraid she would fail them in their expectations. She had never been very precise or gotten really far in the future with her planning – if that's how it can be called. Her dreams had always focused on behaving, being a good girl, avoiding earning the disapproval of her father. All this, in order to become just like her mother.
That's what her parents had always taught her. They had twisted her mind into thinking love is all that's needed to be happy. Without her consent, they had led her to pursue those foolish ideas. She had not had any other point of view or choice, for that matter.
Until her future trainers found her.
Those soldiers and the women who afterwards became her sisters had taken changed all that… those childish hopes, expectations and dreams shattered in an instant.
They had turned her into a Mord-Sith. They had created who she was now. They had made her understand. Theyhad explained so many things to her. He had taught her. Lord Rahl had replaced those foolish ideas of a young girl with the reality.
Pain is the real bond between people. Love is not nearly as efficient. It is merely an illusion of a sensation. It's immaterial, abstract, insubstantial. Pain is all the opposite and so much more.
In that moment she understood that, in order to make Richard Cypher hers, she had to show him that. Show him how the connection between two human beings can be so largely amplified by the most hated and most feared of feelings.
With her reminiscing mind drifting more and more, she started to pay less attention to the pain she was in, but also to her surroundings and the irregular path she was following.
Without her noticing, her foot caught in the bulging root of a big tree. She fell on the ground and hit her head on a rock nearby.
She had been lucky enough not to lose consciousness, but her head started throbbing and spinning the moment she attempted to move.
Grunting, she struggled to push herself up with her elbows, her breathing irregular and laboured. Once in a sitting position, she let out an uneasy breath of relief, but she did not trust her legs enough to sustain her, so she leaned her back on a tree and sighed.
She took off the red glove covering her right hand, tossed it on the ground and touched the side of her head with trembling naked fingers. As she felt the sore spot right on her temple she winced in pain; suppressing a cry she then looked at her still shaking hand. There was no blood: a good sign. It hurt a lot, but it could have been much worse.
Another sigh escaped her cyanotic lips. She brought her legs closer to her chest, hugged them tightly, as if trying to protect herself from the icy breeze, as well as unknown perils lying about the forest and the darkest recesses of her mind, and rested her chin atop her knees.
She quickly scanned the surrounding area with wary eyes, in an attempt to ascertain that she was completely alone. The cry of an owl returning to its nest after a night of hunting and the almost harmonic sound produced by the wind softly stirring the plants and leaves all around the wood were, to her relief, her only company.
Denna closed her eyes and started drifting away.
In a place far from Lord Rahl, the Seeker and her life as a Mord-Sith.
Just for a little while.
14