ACHILLES ALL THE TIME
a dahlia redemption arc
but you can't be achilles every day - sorties, hélène cixous
When Dahlia turned the corner to enter the torture room which had held Cara for so many brutal, harrowing days, she did not expect to see a flourish of white dress in the center of the room. She certainly did not expect to see the Mother Confessor in their temple, and more than that she would never have anticipated seeing the Mother Confessor's hand gently cupping Cara's worn, beaten face. A bit of blood fell upon the Confessor's palm, but in her grace she did not seem to mind it. The only thing she was looking at was Cara.
The Mother Confessor whispered something calming into Cara's ear, and the chained up Mord-Sith smiled a secret smile just for her. Dahlia watched on silently as the Mother Confessor found the perfect way to unclasp the fetters which contained Cara's raw, bloody wrists. The Mother Confessor winced in pain as if she actually felt it, taking Cara's arm and wrapping it around her shoulders. Cara did nothing to stop her, instead she leaned into the Mother Confessor's touch as she slid herself off of the platform which she had been forced to stand on for days.
"Did you really think it would be so easy?" Dahlia asked, already unleashing her agiel from its sheath. The pain of it put a wonderful smirk on her face. "You're not going anywhere with her."
"Dahlia," Cara said, one eye swollen shut courtesy of Dahlia. "Stop. Let me go."
"You know that's not how this works, right?" Dahlia sneered. "I can fix you, Cara. Look what they've done to you, look how they've ruined you. I can make you better, and everything can be how it used to be."
"We are leaving. Are you going to let us go quietly?" the Mother Confessor said in a voice as cold as ice. Without saying the words, Dahlia knew the stakes from the steely glare which the Mother Confessor imposed upon her. Dahlia was unafraid, even if even a moment of touch from a Confessor meant an agonizing death. She could not let Cara go, not again. Not when she was so close to everything she had ever wanted.
"There is nothing to be fixed," Cara wheezed, wincing and holding her side until she recovered the strength to speak again. "This is who I am now. I thought you, of all people, would see that."
Dahlia was at a loss for words. "I know what you need. You need your sisters, you need Lord Rahl—"
"I already follow Lord Rahl," Cara told her. "Richard. And he is a kind Lord Rahl. The type that does not want to hurt his Mord-Sith anymore."
Dahlia's face twisted up into a scowl, her agiel buzzing in her hand.
"You know what he will do to me if I let you go," Dahlia said carefully. Cara looked up at her with red-rimmed eyes, she looked so overwhelmingly weary. Dahlia had been so close to re-breaking her. She had been so close to getting back her Cara.
"I know. So come with us."
Even the benevolent Mother Confessor snapped her head to the side to peer incredulously at Cara. Dahlia's heart skipped a beat, she felt her stomach turn over.
"Come… with you?" Dahlia began to laugh. "How ridiculous you sound right now."
"Cara…"
"Kahlan, just trust me," Cara said. "Come with us. Come with us, and we can fix it. We can fix all of this."
Dahlia felt the world collapse in on itself. If she was not a Mord-Sith, taking commands from Lord Darken Rahl, then who would she be?
"He will beat you. He will ruin you. He will kill you slowly," Cara told her, eyes now clear with the presentness. "How we were in the forest could be every day, Dahlia. You can live a good life full of good things. You don't need to suffer anymore."
There was the sound of quick footfalls coming toward the other entrance to the torture chamber. Dahlia was running out of time to choose. Staying and going felt equally fraught, but then Cara cleared her throat and said Dahlia's own words back to her.
"We have always protected each other. We have always made up for each other's weaknesses. Let me do that for you now."
Dahlia's choice was made.
"We must hurry," Dahlia whispered, running to a small chest in the corner of the room to retrieve Cara's agiels and leathers. "Let me put them in your pack."
Kahlan looked at her suspiciously for a moment before relenting, she seemed to realize that trusting Dahlia right now was in all of their best interest. Kahlan turned around and let Dahlia stuff Cara's things into her pack before she abruptly took Kahlan by the forearm and pulled them both down the spiral staircase. Kahlan held onto Cara tightly as they slowly crept down the narrow hallway. Dahlia noticed how empty it felt, all the girls she had grown up with were long gone. There were only ghosts here now, relics of the past, of the life she used to lead. She remembered slipping into Cara's room on the coldest of nights, curling up together in an effort to preserve heat. But they both knew it had always been more than that.
Dahlia pulled Kahlan and Cara into a corner as Lorraine, another Mord-Sith, ran past. She held her breath until she disappeared around a corner.
"We're nearly there. Just follow me," Dahlia murmured under her breath.
"Going somewhere?" came a voice from behind.
"This does not concern you, Triana," Dahlia growled. Her hand unconsciously rested upon her agiel, and Triana's eyebrow raised in alluring consideration. "Let us pass. You can tell them it was me."
"That would be the truth," Triana said. "But it would make me look so much better to Lord Rahl if I not only stopped a traitor, but I also had the Mother Confessor."
Dahlia was on her in a flash, grabbing Triana by the front buckles of her leathers and shoving her up against the wall. Triana struggled against her but Dahlia pushed back harder, slipping her agiel from its place on her hip and holding it terribly close to her temple.
"You wouldn't dare use an agiel on your sister," Triana growled.
"Is Cara not our sister?"
Triana looked at the bloody and beaten Cara, who was barely able to stand if not for Kahlan's steady form, then scowled.
"Her braid is cut. It will be a long time before she is Mord-Sith again," Triana told her, and that was when Dahlia let the agiel scream against Triana's skin. Her eyes rolled up into her head and she went limp in a matter of moments. Dahlia heard Kahlan suck in a pained breath behind her, then let Triana fall to the floor.
"What are you standing there for, Confessor?" Dahlia hissed, pointing down the hallway and rushing there with Kahlan and Cara following behind. Dahlia took one last look at Triana, knowing that she would wake up, and knowing that leaving Triana alive meant the end for her. Dahlia just hoped she had made the right decision.
Δ
"You don't have to do this," Dahlia said as she rolled her eyes, but Cara was never one for listening. Kahlan had her back turned, pretending to look at the trees above them in the thick forest landscape, but Dahlia had seen the ghosts in her eyes the moment that Cara wrapped the length of rope once, twice, three times around Dahlia's wrists. Cara finished it off with a skilled knot, then pulled on it only once to test its security. "I just helped you escape, is that not enough?"
Cara, still beaten and bruised but having carefully redressed herself with Kahlan's help, glared at Dahlia with all the hatred in the world. Dahlia felt cold in her presence and decided it was best to let Cara make her own decisions.
"We let you roam free once and it was a mistake," Kahlan told her once Cara had signaled to her that the task was complete. Kahlan's clear, blue eyes avoided Dahlia's restrained hands as she attempted to be diplomatic about all of this. "If Cara thinks you should be treated like a prisoner, you will be treated as a prisoner."
"Not a prisoner," Cara mumbled, taking the end of the rope attached to Dahlia's hands and pulling on it once. When she did, Dahlia's agiel that was hanging from her belt on its thin, golden chain bounced as if it were alive. "More like a dog on a leash. A very short leash. Which could grow even shorter should you try anything."
"What's the end goal if you're just going to tug me around?" Dahlia asked as they began to walk down an empty road. "If you want to kill me, just get it over with already. Or leave me for the other girls to find me and beat me to a pulp."
Cara ignored her and led her to stumble behind as Kahlan led the way.
"Where are we going, exactly?"
"Don't you want an adventure?" Cara asked devilishly, her golden hair picking up in the breeze. It reminded Dahlia of when they were girls, before their long braids had the chance to grow.
"We should set up camp soon," Kahlan called from ahead, to which Dahlia shook her head.
"They'll be looking for us. Lord Rahl will be hunting us down until he finds Cara again. We need to cover as much ground as we can—" Dahlia began, cut off by Cara yanking on her ties and sending her stumbling forward. "before nightfall."
"Cara, are you—"
"Dahlia is right," Cara said reluctantly, Kahlan looking behind her to make sure Cara was not bleeding out right there in the dirt. "I am fine, Kahlan. We need to keep going until sundown."
Kahlan's nod was nothing if not brimming with trepidation, but she and Kahlan shared one common understanding; there was little reasoning with Cara.
Cara could barely keep her feet under her by the time the sun began to crawl under the low, rolling hills of the Eastern Midlands. She shuffled forward, her eyes drifting closed, but every time she was about to collapse, Kahlan would ask her a question or intentionally bump into her. Dahlia rolled her eyes. How had Cara become so close to a Confessor, of all women?
"Here is good," Kahlan told her, squeezing Cara's shoulder in acknowledgement. "I'll set up the fire, you set up the bedrolls."
"I'm sleeping on the dirt, I assume?" Dahlia asked, already knowing the answer. She had to get her digs in somehow. However, both Kahlan and Cara ignored her, instead opting to set up camp in silence. It seemed to be a predetermined routine, Cara untying the bedrolls while Kahlan stacked up wood for the fire. Dahlia sat in the dirt and watched them carefully, listening to their quiet argument over Cara not needing to always be the one to chop the firewood and that Kahlan was perfectly capable of doing it. And yes, Kahlan said, even in the long, ridiculous sleeves.
Dahlia was thankful that they had the courtesy to feed her, and she would never admit it but Kahlan was a decent cook. D'Haran food offered little in the way of flavor, and Mord-Sith ate even more of a protein rich, spiceless diet than most. The Midlands, made up of a conglomerate of small, diverse city states, had a bounty of culinary selections. It seemed that all the misguided traveling with the Seeker had done Kahlan some good.
"Cara, eat slower," Kahlan cautioned as Cara practically shoveled her food straight down her throat.
"She hasn't eaten in three days," Dahlia said reluctantly, avoiding what was sure to be Kahlan's pointed glare. "But she's right, Cara. You should slow down, it will hurt your stomach more than soothe it."
"So it's now that you'd like to be helpful?" Cara noted, looking at Dahlia with the wild eyes of an animal with its foot in a trap. Dahlia wilted beneath Cara's brewing anger and resigned herself to delicately tilting the bowl of stew between her parted lips.
After cleaning up from dinner, Dahlia began to look for a place to sleep. She decided on a soft, moss covered patch of ground that seemed well-suited for a decent night's sleep. It had been so long since she had been forced to sleep under the stars, and it was then that Dahlia sorely missed the creature comforts of her temple. While Mord-Sith were not treated like queens, it was certainly better than this vagabond life which Cara had apparently become so accustomed to.
As she laid down to position herself correctly, she looked over to see Kahlan gingerly dressing Cara's various wounds. Her swollen eye, her split lip, the blossoming bruises that tracked the course of her suffering like a well made map. Kahlan spoke softly to her while she patted the wounds with a damp cloth, taking a moment every now and then to look up at Cara. Sometimes she would sigh, sometimes she would smile, but most curiously there was a look of adoration in the Confessor's eyes. And, even more curiously, Cara was not flinching from her touch.
Dahlia had enough, rolled over to the other side so she was stuck staring into the dark night while she waited for sleep to come. In all her years, she had never felt so alone as she did now while watching Kahlan and Cara care for each other as if they were old friends.
Δ
Dahlia woke to a firm boot landing under her ribcage. She gasped and turned around, trying for her agiel but gaining no purchase with her tied hands. It was Cara, standing over her, eyes full of cold rage.
"Sun is up," Cara remarked.
"You were always so attentive to detail, Cara."
That earned her another kick in the side, but it was well worth it.
"You decided to come with us. I would suggest that, if you want to be free of your bonds, you'll start acting less like an enemy and more like an ally," Cara told her, a sentiment to which Dahlia could not completely disagree.
Dahlia dug her knuckles into the dirt and pushed herself to her feet. She tried to dust off the dirt from her leathers but could not reach behind her, and with a dejected sigh she elected to cease trying.
"It doesn't mean you have to treat me like your slave," Dahlia said like it was a throwaway phrase. A punch landed to the back of her head, and as Dahlia fell forward onto her hands she knew that it was Cara's fist that had dealt the decisive and impulsive blow.
"Cara!" Kahlan cried out, trying to hold Cara back by her elbow. It was too late, Cara was already seething with rage.
"Don't treat you like what? Don't treat you like how you treated me?" Cara bellowed. Dahlia uselessly held her tied wrists up in front of her as if it would stop Cara, but all it made her was angrier. Cara broke free of Kahlan's hold and raced forward, grabbing Dahila's tied hands with one fist and then landing another punch across her jaw. Cara was nose to nose with her now, her swollen eye oozing pus to mar her beauty.
"Cara, I—"
"Hold your tongue, Dahlia. I don't want to hear any excuses you want to spin," Cara told her coldly, pushing her up against a tree and then letting go as Kahlan chastised her once again. The Confessor took Cara by the shoulders and ushered her away from Dahlia long enough for her to quickly recover. Her hands shook as she pushed herself off the tree, her whole body felt uneasy, but she shoved it all down. Dahlia would not let Cara get the best of her. Especially when all she had wanted was Cara back on her side.
Dahlia could tell that the rope did something to Kahlan, for she was absolutely silent that entire morning. However, Kahlan was smart enough to realize that Cara would have found at least ten ways to beat Dahlia with the rope, so in her hands it was at least not a weapon. At least, not for Dahlia.
"The child was a ruse, wasn't he?" Kahlan asked, distance between herself and her words.
"I don't know what you mean, Mother Confessor."
"Cara's child, he wasn't real, was he?"
"He was very real. But only for a short while," Dahlia said, and for a moment she was taken back to that night. Cara's legs slick with blood, her golden hair sticking to her sweaty brow, her green eyes raving after the chaos and divinity of childbearing pains. Dahlia remembered how hard it had been to hold Cara down as another Sister of the Agiel tore the barely-born child from her arms. Dahlia had known what had become of the child, but she never had the heart to tell Cara.
"That is despicable," Kahlan said ardently, to which Dahlia sighed. This Confessor and her black and white world. All Dahlia knew was Rahl and Not Rahl, those were her only dichotomies.
"What kind of mother would a Mord-Sith be? What kind of child could be raised in a Mord-Sith temple? I know little of motherhood, but I would find the screaming of victims difficult to lull a baby to sleep by."
Kahlan was silent, apparently subdued by the candor with which Dahlia spoke. Dahlia, although cruel, was correct. Even she was saddened by her own words.
Δ
Dahlia woke the next night with the stars still in the sky and Cara's bloodied but beautiful face peering over her, watching her, waiting for something to happen. Dahlia's eyes fluttered open and she took a deep breath in, catching the distinct scent of Cara's leathers. Bastardized as her current attire was, Cara smelled the same as she did years ago.
"What is it, Cara?"
Cara did not answer with words, instead she took Dahlia's face in her tight grip and locked eyes with her. Dahlia could see the gears whirring in Cara's head, but there was something else there which she could not name. It was a familiar look, though. So very familiar.
"You must not make a sound," Cara said in her low drawl. Dahlia had picked a spot to sleep that was even further from Kahlan and Cara's bedrolls than the previous night. Kahlan was slumped on the ground, deep in sleep, and facing away from the two of them. Dahlia's eyes flickered back to Cara as a warmth raced down her spine and flooded her blood vessels with its heat.
Dahlia nodded as Cara began to hastily untie the front laces of her pants, shimming them down to her ankles before pulling Dahlia up by her chest buckles to sit.
"I could be much better if my hands—"
"I don't need to untie you," Cara told her, eyes ravenous. She spread her legs open and what was nestled between them appeared to Dahlia like an empire to be conquered. Cara's hand came tight around the base of her braid as she forced Dahlia's head down to where her surely soft, warm cunt was. But Dahlia knew exactly what Cara tasted like, they had always enjoyed playing games like these. Dahlia was merely surprised that, after everything she had done, Cara still wanted to play with her.
Dahlia's mouth found Cara's clit easily, and her tongue maneuvered in broad strokes with care. Cara was, as always, exceptionally good at staying quiet, and it was in good measure, for Dahlia had a feeling that the Mother Confessor did not sleep so soundly as the First Wizard did. Cara's tightening fist in her hair, however, spoke louder than any moan. The further down she forced Dahlia's head, the wetter she became, only urging Dahlia on more. Her lips wrapped around Cara's clit and sucked, and for all the world she wished her hands were free so she could do even more.
"Dahlia," Cara breathed, her voice only for Dahlia to hear. Dahlia looked up to see Cara's head lolling back, her muscles relaxed, and the darkness casting odd shadows on her face. This was not the Cara she had punished, the Cara she had brought into a den of wolves. This was her old Cara, the Cara who loved her, the Cara who relished in her touch.
Kahlan stirred, rolling over in her sleep, and Cara's hand pulled her reluctantly away. As if released from a spell, Cara shook her head and slid out from Dahlia's mouth.
"Oh, come now Cara," Dahlia whispered. "You're really going to—"
"Don't push it, Dahlia," Cara scowled, tying her pants up again before retreating back to her bedroll. She made sure to face away from Dahlia when she did, leaving Dahlia once again to her own whims. And now, of course, there was a disappointing wetness beneath her leathers too. Dahlia put her head on the ground and tried to close her eyes, but all she could imagine was Cara there with her, lying naked under the stars as their hands roamed their beautifully ugly, scarred and wounded bodies.
Giving up on herself, Dahlia fumbled with the ties of her pants before planting her feet flat on the ground and angling her hips up so she might dip a strained finger into her trousers and make a mess of herself, on her own.
Δ
The previous night was a failure on nearly all accounts, for while she had gotten a taste of the former, hungry Cara she once craved, now all Dahlia had to show for it were sticky smallclothes and the unquenchable desire to tear Cara apart, even in the daylight. But there was the Confessor, and Dahlia was not quite sure why Cara, who had never been shy in the slightest, was so concerned beneath her watchful eye.
"I came of my own volition, and you've taken my agiel," Dahlia said as Kahlan and Cara packed up. "Don't you think you could untie me now?"
"Not until we get to Richard and figure out what to do with you," Cara told her.
"You were the one who wanted me here. Surely it wasn't like this. I won't go back to Lord Rahl, you know that," Dahlia assured her.
"My braid is shorn and my collar is removed, but I assure you I am still as stalwart as ever, Dahlia," Cara warned her with a careful glare. "I am not going to budge. Richard will decide what to do with you."
"Why? We have the Mother Confessor herself right here," Dahlia said with a catlike grin. "She can't read me, or confess me without killing me, but surely she's intelligent enough to determine the worth of a lowly, cruel Mord-Sith such as myself. So go on, Mother Confessor, what shall it be; will you keep me a slave, or let me roam free?"
"You are Cara's ward, not mine. The choice to save you was hers alone," Kahlan said coolly, to which Dahlia scoffed. Kahlan seemed a bit taken aback but continued. Perhaps Cara had stopped protesting long ago and she had grown unused to the true ways of Mord-Sith. "So she decides what to do with you, and she has already made her decision twice-clear."
"You want this rope off my wrists as much as I do, Kahlan," Dahlia said, holding up her hands and raising an eyebrow. As a Mord-Sith, Dahlia knew what it was like to watch someone relive their ghosts, to be haunted by days long passed. Kahlan had specteres in her eyes, the very same which Dahlia had seen a few days ago. Cara looked as if she could spit fire for how angry she was, but she made no moves to stop Dahlia, who stepped forward with a haughty bounce.
"Someone tied you up, probably when you were young enough to not be able to fight back," Dahlia told her in a low drawl, savoring each word. "And then no one ever told you it wasn't all right. Maybe your parents, maybe a lover, but I highly doubt the second one—Richard seems to have quite… chivalrous tastes."
"Dahlia—" Cara warned and it came out like an animal's growl, but Dahlia just couldn't help herself.
"So why do the same to me? Are you not the pillar of justice in the Midlands? Should you not treat your prisoners of war with respect which you wish you had all those years ago?"
Dahlia did what she never should have dared to do, but what her indelible Mord-Sith bravado forced her to—Dahlia stepped in front of the Mother Confessor Kahlan Amnell, outstretched her tied hands, and offered the choice to her.
"Go on," Dahlia told her. "Do it."
Kahlan took Dahlia's hands in hers and stared at her for a good, long moment. Dahlia prepared for death, for the thunder without sound she had heard so much about.
"It's Cara you have bad blood with, and so it's Cara you must answer to. Do not mistake one of us for the other," Kahlan told her gently, then dropped her tied hands and started down the trail with her pack slung over one shoulder. Dahlia was left there with Cara, the two Mord-Sith stewing in their shared silence.
"So?" Dahlia asked, raising an eyebrow and lifting her hands back up. Cara rolled her eyes. "Come now, Cara. There is a reason why you brought me with you. Just let my hands be free."
"I do not wish to be stupid more than once," Cara said, and it was her candor that shook Dahlia more than her words. Cara had done something a Mord-Sith would never do—she had shown Dahlia her cards, and more than that it had been a weak hand. Dahlia was baffled to speechlessness.
Cara spoke again, her voice steeled against whatever answer she got, as if she were exhausted by it. "Why is it you who stands at these odd crossings of my life? Why is it always you?"
Dahlia rolled her eyes flippantly, for the question wholly unanswerable.
"Why did you come with us? Don't lie to me now, not like before," Cara asked, taking a step closer.
"Because you asked me to," Dahlia said. "And because Lord Rahl would have killed me. He wanted you back so badly, Cara. For some larger plan of his."
"He is a terrible man, Dahlia."
"I know. I have always known this. But what else is there for girls like us?"
Cara shrugged. "If I let your hands free, you'll be forced to find out."
"Since when do you give second chances? You used to kill your pets prematurely, before they were even broken, if you noticed they wouldn't give you what you needed."
"I'm becoming someone new. What other reason did you have to try and break me again?" Cara said, closing the distance between them when she yanked on Dahlia's lead and pulled her closer. Cara's eyes dripped down to her parted lips and all Dahlia could do was stand there and wait. The electricity between them crackled in the air, waiting for something to strike.
"I don't want you to be someone new. I want you back, Cara," Dahlia mewed earnestly, the candor shocking even her. There was a glint of interest in Cara's eye, surely she had heard the sincerity, but it dulled into a cold anger once more.
"There is nothing to return to, only death. I wish to live, Dahlia. That is what has been promised to me, on this road I have traveled down with Richard and Kahlan. They have offered me a life, and a sustainable future. You know as well as I that longevity has ever been given to a Mord-Sith before."
Δ
Dahlia was growing weary of all this trekking. The day was spent staring at Cara and Kahlan's backs, watching the two of them whisper to each other every so often. While Dahlia was sure it was not about her, it most certainly felt as such. It was the way they spoke in such low voices, it was the way Kahlan's eyes would light up with delight when Cara would deadpan or say something otherwise intriguing, and it was the way Cara's arm would brush up against Kahlan's and afterward how she would not yank back and shroud herself in irritation. It was all so irritating and yet deliciously interesting to Dahlia.
Cara stopped and grabbed Kahlan by the arm. Dahlia could feel it too, and the panic over her current, restricted form set in quickly. All at once she felt like a rabbit in a trap.
"There's someone—" Cara began.
"Following us," Dahlia finished. The two Mord-Sith locked eyes, and just as Cara's hands flew to her own agiels which lay sleeping upon her hip, Kahlan already had her twin daggers freed from her boots. What a ridiculous place to keep weapons, but Dahlia mused that perhaps it was the reason for Kahlan being the very last Confessor. However, Dahlia knew the true reason that all the Confessors had perished, and she wondered too if Kahlan knew that it had been at the hands of the one she now so casually called friend.
A figure dressed in shapeless, black robes broke out of the thick line of trees and swung a nimble short sword in a slashing arc that nearly sliced Kahlan's left ear off. In a flash, Kahlan had ducked beneath the sword and Cara already had her agiels buried into the sword-wielder's chest. They shook so much beneath Cara's cruel touch that their dark hood slipped away from their head to reveal a shaved dome, bare right down to the skin.
Dahlia should have stayed behind, should have watched as her captors were cut down and then she could scoop up their weapons and live to fight another day. Dahlia could have made herself look like the hero, having extinguished the life of the Mother Confessor who was foretold to hold the Keeper's victory just beyond his reach. It was what Lord Rahl would have wanted.
Dahlia, however, did not want all life to end. And if Lord Rahl won, that would be the precise outcome. She had never been Lord Rahl's favorite, and surely she would never be among his elite circle of Mord-Sith who, like the old regi of D'Hara that would be sent to sea on burial ships with their prized concubines, would be allowed to live amongst a land of the dead.
So what, exactly, was she holding out for?
The man brought his head up underneath Kahlan's chin, the back of his skull hitting her jawbone hard. Blood spurted from her mouth as she reeled back, all beautiful and terrifying and sanguine. Dahlia could scarcely breathe as she watched Kahlan steady herself, hollow her cheeks inward, and spit a stream of blood onto the waiting ground beneath her feet. It dribbled a bit out of her mouth as she wiped the back of her hand over her lips, spreading it like warpaint across her cheek.
Dahlia dove toward the ground as the man raced forward to meet Kahlan again, this time she held her tied hands out in front of his feet to catch him. In the instant where his feet connected with her hands, the closest one kicking out to meet her face, she felt Kahlan catch him.
"Dahlia!" Cara cried out, and before Kahlan could release her dangerous power, Dahlia rolled away. The man stood there dumbly as Kahlan got a firm hold of his shoulders and confessed to him. She could feel the magic pushing her bones out of their sockets before slamming them back into their preordained positions. Dahlia squeezed her eyes shut against the pain, and when she opened them Cara was standing over her, green eyes roving over her as she assessed the damage done.
"Are you confessed?" Cara asked blankly, to which Dahlia sighed and rolled her eyes. Cara reached down and grabbed Dahlia's ties, yanking her up off the ground. Her arms ached for no more than a moment.
"Would you be relieved if I were?" Dahlia murmured, grabbing hold of Cara's hand and staring straight at her. Cara's smirk deliciously lifted up her lips, and there was nothing left to say.
"You tried to protect Kahlan," Cara said, looking to the side as they both watched the cloaked nuisance fall to his knees in the grace of the Mother Confessor. Kahlan was taking deep, exhausted breaths, the blood still on her face as if she had torn into a fresh kill with just her teeth. Dahlia had to admit that she had never seen a Confessor look so rugged before. "Why?"
Dahlia was at a loss, all of the quick remarks she usually had were so distant and out of reach. She wanted to say something trite, or backhanded, but she could not manage any of it. Instead, Dahlia told the truth.
"I don't know. And I think that if you asked me years from now, I wouldn't be able to tell if it was the right thing to do, or the most terrible thing I have ever done," Dahlia said, her voice sounding hollow in her own ears. "I had the chance to let the Mother Confessor die and allow the Keeper his victory… and I squandered it."
"Good girl," Cara said in a low voice so Kahlan could not hear. She took Dahlia's hands into her own, then pulled on two intersecting ends of rope, wrenched out an already tied section, and Dahlia's hands were freed just as quickly as Cara had begun. Her eyes flashed with confusion as she looked up incredulously at Cara.
"How… that was all…"
"You're learning quickly," Cara told her, slapping her hand on Dahlia's upper arm hard enough to leave a wonderful bruise. Dahlia watched as Cara walked away to find Kahlan's arm and squeeze it in acknowledgement of her trials. Cara and Kahlan spoke in hushed tones, every now and then Kahlan would point to the confessed man and he would say something unintelligible. All Dahlia could think of was how close she had come to dying, both at the hands of Kahlan and of Cara.
Δ
Dahlia looked across the empty circle of stones, meant to house a cooking fire, to see Kahlan's hand rise up to hold her clearly sore jaw for the fourth time in an hour. Each time she had done it and either Cara or Dahlia had seen, Kahlan immediately dropped her hand and acted like it had not happened. Although concerned, Cara did not know how to help.
"Foxtail," Dahlia offered, to which Kahlan raised a skeptical eyebrow.
"What?"
"That's what will help with your jaw, and with the bruising," Dahlia repeated. "I saw some a few minutes back, not far off."
"I don't know what that looks like," Kahlan told her coldly. "But I will be fine."
"There is no use to being a martyr when there is no cause," Dahlia replied. "There was something in your heart that forbade you from leaving me at the temple, so you do not have to act as if I am poison upon your lips anymore."
"Fine. Then you'll come with me and point out this healing flower, and Cara won't hear a word of it," Kahlan said, both of them knowing it would be at least an hour until Cara returned. She often liked to steal away into the night for the sake of chopping wood alone.
"Me? Creating a rift? The mere assertion, Mother Confessor, makes me—" but before Dahlia could finish, Kahlan was walking in the direction she had pointed in moments ago.
The most unlikely pair of allies strode into the forest in search of the bright orange flower which Dahlia knew would help ease Kahlan's pain, even if by the smallest mark. The sun had just barely set below the hills, splashing the sky with yellow and purple hues. Kahlan did not look so dangerous in this light, she looked just like any other woman would.
Kahlan kept turning her head slightly to steal small glances at Dahlia, as if she wanted to say something but hadn't the mettle to go through with it. Finally, she mustered the strength. "Why did you—"
"Don't invoke the name of a question whose answer you aren't prepared for, Mother Confessor," Dahlia interrupted her, to which Kahlan grabbed her shoulder and spun her around. Fear gripped Dahlia, wondering if this silly little quip would result in her final moment. Dahlia wasn't sure it had even been worth it, really.
"Just because you are Mord-Sith does not mean everyone else is weaker than you, Dahlia. You have know idea where I have been and who I have become in that time," Kahlan said evenly, her eyes boring into Dahlia's with all the birthright granted to her as a Confessor. Dahlia yanked her hand from Kahlan's grasp and set her jaw tightly.
"Why did I take Cara back? Why did I try to break her? Because…" Dahlia began strongly but her bravado petered out under the undying truth which Kahlan so ardently sought.
"Tell me, Dahlia. Why did you take her back to that place where nothing thrives if it does not suffer?" Kahlan said, all the malice gone out of her voice and left nothing but the tender compassion she so clearly held for Cara.
Dahlia let out a small chuckle in spite of herself, the corner of her lips rising up not in a sarcastic sneer, but in a genuine smile of disbelief. "I took her back because I needed her. I am nothing without Cara."
"So you two were…"
"Together. For most of our lives. Cara didn't…"
"No," Kahlan smirked. "Cara likely talks just as little to me as she ever did to you."
Dahlia sighed and lifted a hand to rub the back of her neck as she remembered what had long since passed. "Cara is a woman of action, not of words."
"Did you really believe you would get her back on your side?" Kahlan asked, to which Dahlia nodded.
"I needed it to be true. My bloody, beautiful Cara, working with the Seeker? I couldn't understand it. How could a Mord-Sith become so antithetical to her own nature? How could she turn her back on everything she knew?" Dahlia said, her hand moving to her mouth as if to catch the sob that rumbled in her belly. She would not break, not here, not now, not after years of holding everything she had ever felt deep, deep within her.
"Perhaps you thought that if Cara could redeem herself, why it was that you couldn't, too?" Kahlan replied. "If she could become something different, something new, then there was a chance that you had been choosing a life of misery in vain. That you had failed at something. Cara represents the change you could have never had, and you have hated her for it."
"I do everything for my Lord Rahl," Dahlia told her coldly, distantly. She did not wish to climb into those softer, more vulnerable feelings, even if Kahlan was right. "I am Mord-Sith despite everything you try to do to me."
"Darken Rahl wants death to engulf the world. We live in a hard world, but I do not wish for it to be a desolate land, crawling with banelings and screelings. Richard wants to save us, not scorch the Creator's earth for his own gain," Kahlan assured her, taking a gentler hold of Dahlia's elbow and squeezing. "Rahl isn't going to take you to his Undying Court, Dahlia. I'm not sure he'll be taking anyone. There is no corner of his heart he has not given up in the name of power."
Dahlia's tears came unbidden, roaring down her cheeks like calvary hooves over the hills. Nothing was hidden any longer for Kahlan was right—all of what she had done had been in malice and, moreover, done at the cost of everyone around her. Even the person she thought she had loved most ardently in this world.
"Where can I go like this?" Dahlia cried out, her fingers frantically clawing at the straps and leather pieces which restrained her. "What is left for a Mord-Sith? They've already begun to lynch our girls if they catch us, Lord Rahl has no control over his empire any longer, and I—I if I am not Mord-Sith, then what am I?"
Kahlan had tears in her eyes too, and Dahlia thought it was indelibly foolish to shed a tear over someone else's woes. But, somehow, Dahlia felt safer now, and she was swallowed up in Kahlan's grace as she wrapped her arms around Dahlia and pulled her close, tight, into her chest.
"Then you have to stop all of this, Dahlia. All this biting wit, all these low blows. You have to stop it before it's too late for you to see a better way to live."
Dahlia dug her face into Kahlan's long, dark tresses and inhaled the smoky scent which it had absorbed from the campfire the evening before. It felt so warm and safe and soothing that Dahlia had half a mind to never let go.
"Doesn't that feel so much better?" Kahlan asked after a long time, her hands squeezing around Dahlia's waist.
"What does?"
"Letting it go. Feeling everything you can," Kahlan mused, sighing gently as she rubbed Dahlia's back. Eyes still wet with tears, Dahlia pulled back and shook her head. Her arms quickly crossed over her chest in an effort to convey that the moment, however tender, was now over. Kahlan raised an eyebrow, then winced a bit at the pain in her jaw.
"We should find the foxtail."
"We should."
Δ
The world was pitch dark around her, the fire long dead, but everything she had just bore witness to felt so real. Dahlia had not even realized she had bolted up from a dream until Cara's head lifted up from a few feet away. Dahlia's breath was heavy in her chest, her hand grasping at the thick, leather collar which threatened to choke her.
"Dahlia?" Cara called out, her voice still thick with sleep, but Dahlia simply shook her head. In an instant, Cara was up and her hands were quickly undoing the straps on Dahlia's leathers. Piece after piece of armor dropped to the dusty ground until there was nothing left but her soft, leather shirt that lay beneath all the hardened exterior. Cara had known exactly what to do, and Dahlia needn't speak a word to gain her aid.
"Cara…"
"You don't have to say anything. Just lay with me," Cara told her gently, pulling Dahlia close. Cara's leg wrapped around hers, their hips fit together, and Dahlia could scarcely breathe. Her mind snapped back to that wet, sticky, restrained night that she would take a thousand times over. Dahlia had no idea when she had fallen so deeply for Cara, but perhaps it was simply the vestiges of a feeling that had never quite faded.
Dahlia watched Cara's eyes, gleaming even in the night, for a long time. She wanted to make the right decision, for choosing Cara's bed felt like making a larger decision than she was ready for. Cara's hand reached up to trace the hard line of Dahlia's chin, her fingers brushing up and down as she waited for a response. Dahlia could think of nothing else but Cara.
And then Cara was lying down in Kahlan's arms, which Dahlia had failed to notice amongst all the darkness around them. The Confessor was seemingly oblivious to it all, her white dress splayed out on the dirt ground, her head resting on the thick skin of her upper arm as her hand sleepily reached out for a handful of Cara's leathers. Cara smirked a bit and slid nearer to Kahlan, fitting perfectly in front of her. Dahlia let her mind race for a moment, wondering again what all of this would mean, but that did not seem to matter now. Dahlia no longer wished to sleep alone.
It felt grander than any gilded palace to be in Cara's arms again. The deep sigh that swelled in Cara's chest as she wrapped her arms around Dahlia, the way Cara's lips brushed up against the back of Dahlia's neck right where it was most sensitive. Dahlia imagined that this was the place where the world would end, one day, and Dahlia wanted nothing more than to sink into the earth and lie there forever, with Cara and Kahlan.
"I want to live, Cara," Dahlia breathed into the night, taking Cara's hand and kissing the knuckles once, then again for good measure.
"I want you to live too," Cara murmured, pressing a kiss to Dahlia's neck as her eyes fluttered closed and she imagined a world where there was only this endless night, without a sunrise, without a reckoning.
END.