A/N: Faith of the Fallen is a canon Kahlan/Cara SoT book and TG was just too silly to follow through on it; sorry to this man. This fic will not involve any sapphic interactions which are painfully mediated through Richard Rahl, for I despise them. I will not apologize for the unfettered wish fulfillment from ten years ago, the SoT that I wanted so badly, or the SoT I needed when I was young.

Some of the chapters will use a careful amount of direct dialogue/action/events from Faith of the Fallen, while others will be entirely fabricated dialogue/action/events. I try to tow the line between utter canon-divergence and rewriting, because in the interest of my own views I found it powerful to "rewrite" some of these more troubling parts of the novel.

WOULD ALWAYS PIN FIR YEW

part i

i wanted to be a boy so she could be in love with me

With all the foolish twirling that was going on tonight Cara thought it best that, in order not to stick out like a sore thumb, she should stand on the sidelines and merely watch the revelry unfold before her. General Mieffert had attempted to pull her into the merriment by standing on the other side of the fun and watching her with soft, wanting, blue eyes, but Cara had simply raised an eyebrow in challenge, as if to say: go on, ask a Mord-Sith to dance. See how many teeth that leaves you with.

Cara felt Kahlan's approach behind her, noticing the trail of the Mother Confessor's white dress and the halo made by the large fur draped around her shoulders just out of the corner of her eye. Nothing escaped Cara's notice, and to prove that she leaned backwards just a bit, knowing full well that Kahlan would try and convince her to join in on the wedding festivities.

"Cara, you've been staring at Benjamin for nearly an hour," Kahlan told her decisively. "Why don't you ask him to dance?"

"I will do no such thing," Cara challenged, her eyebrow raising once again, her arms crossing more tightly over her chest. "What will you do next, ask me to wear a dress?"

"I know that would burn right through your skin," Kahlan smirked. "None of the soldiers have even looked at the dancing. I want them to feel comfortable. If you would dance with General Meiffert—"

"Why can't you dance with him?"

"Believe it or not, he's more afraid of me than of you." Cara chuckled in disbelief. "He's been staring at you for an hour, too."

"He can stare all he likes," Cara mumbled, trying to double down on her stance. She was sure that Kahlan would not be able to weasel her way into Cara having any sort of fun. Mord-Sith, as far as Cara knew, could not have fun.

"One dance won't kill you."

"If I'm out there dancing, who will—" before Cara could finish, Kahlan raised her hand and waved General Mieffert over. Never before had Cara felt so utterly embarrassed as when she saw the glimmer of glee in General Mieffert's eye as he bounded over to meet them.

"Cara was wondering if you'd have this dance with her, General Meiffert," Kahlan smiled, holding her gentle hand to the small of Cara's back. It burned there like a flame, and Cara had half a mind to lean into the touch.

"Of course, Mistress Cara," Meiffert grinned, holding out his hand so there was nothing left for Cara to do but hesitantly take it. As she was pulled onto the dance floor, Cara stole a harsh look behind her to Kahlan.

"Don't crack too many ribs," Kahlan told her, a gleam of amusement in her eyes. They parted ways with the squeezing of Kahlan's fingers around Cara's wrist, and then there was nothing but General Meiffert pulling her close and vainly attempting to begin a conversation with her.

Kahlan was right, of course, because as soon as the D'Haran soldiers saw Cara and General Meiffert dancing together, they followed suit. Cara tried her best not to look Meiffert directly in the eye, but there was just an easy way about them that was difficult to escape. They spoke about the weather and how beautiful the wedding had been, and not once did they mention the skulls cracked or the ears won. Cara did enjoy him, he was kind yet brutal when he needed to be, but there were so many men just like him, and Cara had never been one to settle.

There was a flutter of white beside her again. When Cara tilted her head ever so slightly to the left, there she was; Kahlan Amnell, sweeping the dancefloor with Warren. Cara had never remembered Kahlan looking so absolutely beautiful, and the thought of calling the Mother Confessor beautiful was in itself a foolish notion. Of course she was, but that was not something for Cara to decide or partake in. But even simply glancing at her as she swung with Warren felt like a guilty indulgence. Cara altogether forgot that she was dancing with General Meiffert, and it was only when he cleared his throat and accidentally stepped on her foot that she noticed any time had gone by.

"Lady Rahl is quite breathtaking," Meiffert offered, to which Cara shot him a hard glare.

"If you are insinuating—"

"Mistress Cara, I would never. Nor would I mind," Meiffert replied with the utmost sincerity. "I have heard that some Mord-Sith have quite voracious appetites. I assumed you were one."

Cara resisted the urge to lower her hand and grip General Meiffert where it would hurt him most. After all, even Cara knew that using an agiel on one's dance partner was surely frowned upon in these parts of the world.

Being apart from Kahlan, even if it was mere feet, suddenly made Cara's chest ache. That was her companion that Warren was dancing with, and it occurred to Cara that she wished she were Warren. Cara had never wished to be anyone else, not since she was a small little whining thing.

Each time Kahlan came close, Cara felt her heart beat faster. There was no danger roaring over the hills, no malice hiding behind the trees, so why did Cara feel so hungry for motion? In typical Mord-Sith fashion, especially under the libertine rule of Richard Rahl, Cara pulled away from General Meiffert in favor of exactly what she wanted at that very moment.

"May I have this dance, Mother Confessor?" Cara asked, and for just an instant all heads snapped to see them. Kahlan did not seem to cater to any of them, paying the prying eyes no mind as she ceased her movements with Warren and watched Cara closely. With those daring, green eyes. With that slight upturn of her lips that threatened to crack into a bemused smile. With the flair for the heroic she always seemed to have.

"Of course, Mistress Cara," Kahlan obliged her cordially, but as she took a step towards Cara her eyes flitted up and down, her hands awkwardly stayed to either side of her, not entirely sure how to proceed.

"I'll lead," Cara told her smoothly, lifting up her open palm for Kahlan to touch as the music changed to something more upbeat. They rotated in a slow, lazy circle, Kahlan's eyes drooping down every so often like she had no idea where to look, but Cara held fast to her gaze and waited for the return of Kahlan's attention.

Cara could not ignore the scoffs that curled around them like smoke. There were a few soldiers that gave them more room than they needed, and altogether the energy at the party had shifted. Verna and Warren were still dancing with each other, as were General Meiffert and Rikka, but for a moment Cara had a doubt in her decision. Her mind flitted to Berdine and Raina, and how Darken Rahl would belittle and berate them, but they still found time to hold each other and dance even when they felt as though no one was watching. Cara's heart ached for her lost friend.

Kahlan squeezed her hand and Cara was pulled back into reality—how easily Kahlan had tugged her down to earth, to this world of mud instead of the dreams of smoke. Cara looked into Kahlan's eyes and felt her heart clench up in a way it never had before. Kahlan was paying attention to her and no one else.

"What would you like to do?" Kahlan asked honestly, her hands clasping Cara's before pushing gently away, as was the dance. It would be so easy to become ashamed and leave, to give into the gossip that they both knew was already spreading through the camp. Everyone had been tense and upset, so the fact that the Mother Confessor, the Lady Rahl, wife of Richard Rahl, was dancing with a Mord-Sith would have been the most delightful bit of gossip they'd had in months.

Cara took Kahlan by the hips, her hand sliding to the small of her back to support her as the music changed again. There seemed to be another world when she was with Kahlan, one where she mattered most. Perhaps it was simply what it was like to be in the presence of the Mother Confessor, the woman dedicated to all the Midlands, but Cara could not decide such things now.

"I want to keep dancing with the Mother Confessor. I feel as though it's my right, after saving your hide so many times."

Kahlan's expression lit up with unexpected bemusement, quiet and cool, and her hand squeezed Cara's.

"I think I've saved your hide a few more times," Kahlan teased calmly, continuing to swing and sway with Cara. "You're far more liberal with your chaos when Richard isn't in charge."

Cara felt an odd sense of tranquility every time she was with Kahlan, and tonight was no different. They moved easily together, as if their bodies had always been made to do just this. It was the same on the battlefield; they always seemed to know where the other was, and when the other was in any sort of trouble.

"You're a good dancer, Mother Confessor."

"As are you, Cara."

Title from "The Woods" by Cosmo Sheldrake