Fanfic Update! In The Darkness (Legend Of The Seeker, Cara/Dahlia)

[dreiser]

TITLE: In The Darkness
SERIES: Legend of the Seeker
AUTHOR: Dreiser
EMAIL: dreiser7@yahoo.com
YAHOO ID: dreiser7
MY WEBSITE: http://www.dreiser.org/
CONTENT: F/F romance. F/F sex. Cara/Dahlia.
WARNING: Mentions of torture and rape.
SUMMARY: In the darkness of her life, Cara was the only light that Dahlia had ever known.
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing but my love of angsty women in red leather.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I had to write something for these two and I felt compelled to write it from Dahlia's perspective. I would still like a happy ending on the show but if not there's always AU fanfic, right? I wrote this fic listening to music from Florence + The Machine. Give it a listen.



In The Darkness

By: Dreiser

Dahlia was seven when she was chosen by Mistress Nathair for training. She was walking home from school when the Mord’Sith came. The path to her family’s cottage at the edge of the forest was isolated and empty and her screams echoed unheard and for each one she gave the Mord’Sith applied their agiels until she learned not to scream at all. It wasn’t until they reached the temple and she was thrown into a rat infested cell with the others did she realize she wasn’t the only one taken.

That was the first time Cara held her. Catching her as she was shoved into the cell, keeping her from hitting the ground, and Dahlia clung to the older girl. If Dahlia had to pick a best friend, it would have been Cara. They were different as can be, Dahlia had always been shy and reclusive and Cara was bright and energetic. Cara spoke her mind and bested the boys at their games with wooden swords, while Dahlia preferred retreating to a quiet grove to read. All the same, that didn’t prevent them from becoming close and Cara would settle herself in for hours, talking to Dahlia about her stories and books and Dahlia would delight in watching Cara trounce the boys at whatever games they would play. As awful and frightening as it was, being in this place, captured by the Mord’Sith, it was made easier by having Cara with her, though this made her feel guilty.

She wasn’t sure how long she was in that cell with Cara and the others. What little food they got was practically rancid and you would have to pick at it to get the good parts and whatever salvageable pieces Cara managed to find she shared with Dahlia alone. The day that Nathair told them they would be separated for next stage of their training Dahlia wanted to cry, she wanted to protest, but she knew it would be a mistake. That they would punish her for it and then Cara’s hand was there, in hers, squeezing her tight and Dahlia could see in Cara’s eyes that she felt the same.

Protesting would only bring punishment and pain down upon them. So she remained silent while the others begged and cried then screamed as the agiels struck and it was in that moment that Dahlia felt herself superior. She and Cara had known what to do, how to survive this hell, and her compassion for the others was fast becoming fleeting. Only she and Cara mattered because only she and Cara were strong enough and it was thoughts of Cara as she continued her training that kept Dahlia focused. Knowing that the other girl was in another cell, being tortured in the same way, but surviving gave her purpose. When they were separated she saw the look in Cara’s eyes, hard and determined, and it told Dahlia to stay alive, to be strong and that’s what Dahlia did. Enough that she relished it when she got her agiels and killed the flea ridden rats in her cell.

By the time Mistress Nathair brought her mother to her, Dahlia’s compassion was all but gone. Her mother was weeping and pleading for her life and for Dahlia’s and Nathair was whispering in her ear, speaking of how weak this woman was. How she couldn’t find the strength to protect her only daughter, and wasn’t she worthless? What did they do to worthless things? A dead rat was kicked in front of her, its corpse rotting and stinking, and Dahlia looked up just in time to see Nathair kill her mother.

Some part of Dahlia knew she should cry, she should run to her mother, she should show some emotion, feel something, but instead she simply stared, watching as her mother’s eyes took on the same glassy reflection as the rats she killed. When Nathair asked what she was thinking, Dahlia said as much and Nathair laughed and for the first time since she was removed from her school teacher’s classroom, the older woman touched her kindly. Her hand was gentle and approving on the top of her head and Dahlia looked up to see Nathair wearing a proud expression as she said Dahlia was right. The weak were vermin and it was the duty of the Mord’Sith to dispatch them as Lord Rahl saw fit.

That night Dahlia was given fresh water to drink and a crisp apple to eat.

Slowly she learned what pleased Mistress Nathair and the other Mord’Sith. How they thought, how they saw the world, and with every day that passed in that cell Dahlia found herself thinking like them. As much as she hated them and the blows they would rain down on her, she respected them, and she could see that respect returned when she struck back with her agiels and held in her screams when they attacked her and those attacks were almost made worthwhile by the kind touch she would receive each time she held out longer than the last. Her mind often wandered to thoughts of Cara but she dare not ask about the other girl, sensing to do such a thing would bring punishment but she prayed she would see her again.

When her father was dragged before her, prostrate at Nathair’s feet and calling her Mistress, whatever was left of her old self broke in that moment. Snapped at the sight of his weakness and frailty and she hated him. He was supposed to be strong, he was supposed to protect her, but here she was, a mere child, his child, and she could contain her tears and fears better than him and in that moment Dahlia decided he wasn’t her family. The Mord’Sith and Cara and Nathair were and that was why she didn’t hesitate as she lifted the agiels and held them to his chest, watching as if outside herself as she killed him.

Nathair’s hand was once again on her head, stroking her hair and this time she softly kissed her cheek, calling her a good girl, saying she had learned all her lessons well and the third stage was complete. She was a Mord’Sith and Dahlia smiled but it was tiny and restrained because she knew Nathair did not like shows of emotion, just as she preferred actions to words. Her training wasn’t finished though. There was much to learn and Nathair said she now had others to learn it with.

Following Nathair through the temple, she arrived at a room where five girls were gathered. Immediately her eyes locked on Cara’s and the blonde dipped her head to acknowledge her and Dahlia’s heart swelled and for the first time since she had been taken from the other girl she felt something. Happiness, relief, satisfaction, all this and more on seeing Cara in front of her and Dahlia knew she had been right to trust in Cara because she hadn’t failed her. They fulfilled their silent promise, they had stayed alive, they had survived, and once again they were together.

When their lessons in combat began, Cara was the fiercest fighter. It began because of Sibeal’s taunts. Though Cara was among the oldest in their group she was the shortest in stature. Even Dahlia, two years her junior, was taller and when Sibeal mocked the blonde, her green eyes narrowed and flashed with something dark and dangerous and she leapt on the other girl, attacking her with fists and feet and it was several minutes before the Mord’Sith broke them up but only after Cara beat Sibeal bloody. Cara was complimented by Nathair for her skills then punished because they were meant to be reciting the oath of fidelity to Lord Rahl. At night, when they were tucked into their beds, Dahlia reached across the small space between her bed and Cara’s to hold her hand and she asked in a whisper why she had attacked Sibeal.

“Being taller doesn’t make her stronger,” Cara muttered, her eyes flashing again. “I proved it.”

Dahlia nodded her head in agreement, saying that she had and Cara smiled at her and it was shy and sweet but bright like the sun and it reminded Dahlia that she did have feelings. The Mord’Sith tried to destroy them but they were there all the same, just hidden away in a dark place, where no one could get to them save Cara and somehow, Dahlia felt okay with this. Sensing that it was the same for Cara and as long as they kept this secret and as long as their feelings were only for each other it was safe.

Only keeping those feelings hidden was not so easy because children, even those with their spirits broken by the training of the Mord’Sith, were not expert at the art of deception. It had to be learned and it took more than a few simple observations. She was ten when Nathair decided to act on all that she had seen developing between them.

They were taken from the others. Brought to a special room for training. Heavy chains hung from the ceiling and Dahlia’s eyes went wide when she felt her wrists gripped by two of the sisters. Cara started to come at them but Nathair brought Cara to her knees with her agiels and soon Dahlia was hanging from the ceiling, trying to ignore the ache in her arms as Nathair told Cara to care for others is a weakness. Her only care should be fealty to Lord Rahl and if she wanted to prove that she put none above him and truly believed in her oath to him as a Mord’Sith she would use her agiels on Dahlia.

Cara protested and she was punished for this and Nathair told her to do it and Cara refused again, and again, and for each refusal she was struck until she was left a gasping and bloody mess. Dahlia tried to keep her gaze hard, to keep still, to not struggle against the chains and show how much she wanted to help Cara. Finally, Nathair raised her eyes and her gaze became narrowed and sharp and had such utter knowing in them that it caused a cold chill to run down Dahlia’s spine.

“Fine, Cara,” Nathair murmured, her voice silky and smooth, and Dahlia shuddered. Clenching her jaw to keep from screaming as the agiel trailed over her skin only to strike at her and though she had worked very hard to get used to the pain, it was still the worst thing she had ever experienced. “If you won’t do it, I will, and I’ll be considerably less gentle with Dahlia than you would.”

Seconds, minutes, hours, Dahlia wasn’t sure how long Nathair tortured her with agiel and hands and sharp knives leaving a thousand tiny cuts only to be healed by the burn of the agiel. Then Cara was screaming, saying she would do it and Nathair spun on her heel, looking very indulgent as she said, “Very well. But you must make me proud, Cara, or I will resume the session.”

In this place of pain and torture and misery, Dahlia and Cara had learned their own language. It was subtle, all unspoken, communicated with looks and touch and practiced expressions that appeared neutral to all but one another. This was how Dahlia could see the apology in Cara’s eyes when Nathair saw nothing other than cold determination and when Dahlia lowered her head in the slightest of movements she knew Cara understood her acceptance of what was to happen. That she wouldn’t blame Cara for it and between them, nothing would change, and when the agiel struck, Dahlia stared ahead, expression blank. She thought back to holding Cara’s hand in the dark of the night and the blonde telling her to imagine other things when this happened. How it hurt less if you put yourself elsewhere in your mind and Dahlia asked where Cara put herself and Cara said, “With you.”

And so, this is what Dahlia did and Cara was right. It did hurt less, it was as if her body wasn’t her own, and it was only when she was lowered to the ground, arms released from the chains, that the pain consumed her. She collapsed to the ground and in the subtle shift of Cara’s feet Dahlia knew Cara wanted to go to her. To hold her in her arms and lift her up but she couldn’t do a thing with Nathair there lest it all begin again but knowing Cara wanted to do this was a balm in itself.

When they returned to their shared quarters with the others, Sibeal mocked their bond, and Cara broke first her nose then her arm and Cara was gone for three nights after that. Sent for special training and while she was absent Dahlia took it upon herself to break Sibeal’s other arm. When she was sent for training she felt strangely pleased. She was happy to share this experience with Cara as well and when they saw each other again, bruised and bloody and weary from lack of sleep and food, their fingers naturally entwined, and Cara lifted Dahlia’s hand to her lips, kissing its palm and Dahlia felt very warm.

Three years later, it is another great pain that brings a different sort of kiss. The cut on her chest is deep and could become infected and recalling Nathair’s teachings, Cara burns it shut with her agiel. Dahlia clenches her jaw and bears it. Her eyes sting and she feels herself start to slip into unconsciousness when Cara moves closer, strands of blonde hair falling in wisps against Dahlia’s skin. Dahlia tries hard to open her eyes and she manages to do so, breathing shallowly to stare at Cara.

“You’re strong,” Cara murmured, the words are an endearment, and Dahlia feels herself blushing despite knowing this is a weakness but one allowed only around Cara. The blonde’s fingers, covered by the soft leather gloves, brush against her temple and Dahlia restrains a sigh as Cara presses closer. There is barely a breath between them when Cara cups Dahlia’s face in her hands and offers that dangerous smile that makes so many of their sisters nervous. “You deserve a reward.”

Cara is kissing her and Dahlia feels dizzy but she fights it, she can’t pass out, she has to stay awake and alert so she can recall every moment of this. How Cara tastes lightly of the fruit they stole for breakfast and she smells of leather and oil and her lips are soft and pliant in comparison to the rest of her body. There is very little that Dahlia feels is good and perfect in this world but Cara’s kiss? It is most definitely among those rare things. When they part, Dahlia is panting, her eyes are lidded and heavy and her voice doesn’t sound like her own.

“More,” Dahlia insisted, her hands wandering over Cara’s hips.

The only response is a low chuckle and another kiss from Cara.

It’s only later that Dahlia thinks to ask where Cara had learned such things and Cara replies Galina and while Dahlia respects Galina greatly her eyes narrow and she imagines hurting her… very badly. Cara must see this intention in her because she tilts her head and huffs. “Don’t be stupid,” Cara ordered. “It only counts with you.”

Dahlia stops herself from asking why because she knows the answer and to ask for reassurance from Cara is a weakness neither would tolerate, especially when they can see the truth of it in each other’s eyes. The kisses only count with Dahlia as it is only Dahlia that Cara cares for, only Dahlia that Cara loves, but knowing this doesn’t stop Dahlia from wanting to hurt Galina.

But if there is one thing that Mistress Nathair says that Dahlia excels at, above all others, it is cleverness. Her ability to plot and plan and scheme, she understands tactics better than any other sister her age, and to attack Galina does no good. It would not stop Cara from simply going to another and so Dahlia learns to accept it. To bury the rage and to remind herself that the others do not matter in Cara’s mind because no feeling is attached and if Cara believes this then she must as well.

Learning this lesson is difficult though. Far more than Dahlia would have liked.

Still, when Cara’s hands are on her, her breath is coming quick and excited, and her eyes dark, Dahlia likes to pretend she truly is the only one. That she is special to Cara both in body and heart. Soon her focus is on her training, to prove herself better than all the others, to put herself equal to Cara and she knows she has succeeded with Nathair pronounces three years later they are to go to the temple of Jandrolin where they will serve under Mistress Denna, known favorite to Lord Rahl himself.

Several hours later, Nathair asks Dahlia to walk with her on a patrol of the grounds, and Dahlia has an odd moment of melancholy. She recalls doing this as a little girl, before she joined the sisterhood, with Nathair under her guise of Miss Crantan. They would speak of books and her lessons and Dahlia’s dreams, the ones she can now barely recall. Nathair pauses in her walk and Dahlia follows suit, her face schooled to lack expression, waiting in silent expectation.

“Cara may be my favorite but you have always been my brightest student, Dahlia,” she murmured, reaching up to adjust Dahlia’s collar and it is a careful and caring moment and Dahlia cannot help but feel pleased. “Where you are going things are not quite so simple. Here the sisters speak their minds and our training is sharp and to the point but Mistress Denna’s temple is that of the Palace and the Palace is a place of politics and intrigue. Often you will be told you are being punished for one thing only to find that it is the other.” She lifts her gaze and her eyes are hard and commanding. “You will have to be very clever, Dahlia. You must learn quickly the way of the things if you wish to survive. Cara is intelligent but more than that she is a warrior, she cannot read people as you can, she breaks them into death or madness, and in this instance it is you who will be strongest.”

“Thank you, Mistress,” Dahlia said, lowering her gaze, knowing this was Nathair’s last gift from their former life together. Her attempt to protect her students before they journeyed to train under another teacher. One far more dangerous than she.

She doesn’t tell Cara of Nathair’s advice but that night, when they are granted the special privilege of private quarters, and she hears the smallest creak, she rises from her bed, knowing already it is Cara. The blonde is still in her leathers and she stands in front of the bed, hips canted to one side and in the dark Dahlia can barely make out the subtle lift of an eyebrow. Pushing back the covers, revealing her naked form and delighting in the quiet breath Cara takes in the sight of her, Dahlia walks forward. Moving behind Cara to begin the ritual of removing her leathers.

“You didn’t wait for me,” Cara accused and Dahlia allows the tiniest smile to curve on her lips.

Pressing a kiss to Cara’s neck as she lets the collar fall to the floor, Dahlia said, “I didn’t know if you would come.”

“We always help one another to dress and undress,” retorted Cara and her eyes are narrowed and her expression sullen. Dahlia is well aware it’s an intimacy that Cara allows with no other save herself. Cara faces forward, her jaw hard and she added, “We always will.”

“Yes, Cara,” Dahlia breathed, unlacing the sides of her leathers and sliding it down her body. She falls gracefully to her knees and continues unlacing, tugging off her boots before the pants follow suit. Pausing only when Cara’s thumb is under her chin and lifts her head so their eyes can meet in the darkness of the room, lit only by the moon.

“There will be times when we are apart,” Cara muttered, her face stubborn and she seemed indignant at this thought, and Dahlia had to contain the urge to smile, knowing how little the blonde would appreciate it. “But while we are together…”

Cara trailed off and Dahlia knew, instinctively, what she was trying to say. That as long as they were in the same place, at the same time, Cara wanted them to share the bond they had maintained since childhood. Though Dahlia thought that even distance and time couldn’t break it because it was the one thing in training that had held them both together. Had kept them strong.

“My spirit will be with you even if my body is not,” Dahlia replied.

Her hands trailed up Cara’s sides and the blonde shivered and arched into her touch. They had only done this twice before. It was hard to find privacy in such a small and heavily guarded temple for an extended period of time and Cara was not one to be rushed. Part of Dahlia wanted to question if she had practiced this with Galina first but she didn’t ask because she knew, even if Cara had, that Cara would not look the same with Galina as she did with her. She would not show such weakness in how she moaned and moved into her touch and it made Dahlia swell with pride to know she was allowed to see it, she was trusted to view the rare moments of vulnerability and feeling that Cara still had within her. Dahlia’s hands reached up, untying Cara’s braid, fingers sifting through the blonde hair, tangling in it as she drew Cara in for a hard kiss.

As always, Cara grew restless and impatient under her touch, and soon Dahlia found herself pushed back onto the bed with Cara hovering over her. More than any other, Dahlia knew all too well Cara’s need for control and she let herself play the part of the submissive partner, allowing Cara this indulgence. To let her think herself stronger, that she was the one to set their pace, all the while never knowing it was Dahlia who allowed her to think this way.

All the same, she couldn’t deny her own weakness. How she surrendered to Cara’s touch, how she lifted her hips, urging the other girl to move deeper inside of her, how she clung to Cara when she reached release, and relished the sensation of their bodies pressed together. Far from sated, she threw Cara off of her, the blonde landing on her back with a huff and a laugh, wearing an aroused expression that Dahlia smirked at before kissing her again, burying her fingers in Cara’s hair. Dahlia had always loved her hair, how it had the look of fresh wheat, and was soft and silky to her touch.

When it was set free of the braid, running free down her back, Dahlia thought it gave Cara an ethereal quality and if she was standing in the sun, letting it shine down on her, there was never a more beautiful sight in creation in Dahlia’s opinion. It was a beauty that Dahlia claimed as her own, just as she did Cara herself, and she declared as much, voice rough with desire, pushing Cara’s thighs open, tongue sliding inside the other girl’s pussy, delighting in the wetness that greeted her, proof of Cara’s desire. Aware of Cara’s fingers pressing down on her head, urging her closer, Dahlia sucked on her clit, smiling at the moan that greeted her and the buck of her hips. Dahlia held Cara steady, keeping her still as she continued her explorations, flattening her tongue and thrusting inside. Only when her fingers joined her lips and tongue did Cara climax and she did this with a muffled shout, head buried in the sheets, aware alerting others to their activities would bring punishment, even on their last night in the temple.

Their dalliances were known, certainly, but as long as they were not seen nor heard, it was overlooked.

Her head lifted at the sharp tug at her hair and Cara’s expression was veiled. “Yours, am I?” she questioned, her voice silky and dangerous, though Dahlia could detect the a hint of amusement in her tone.

“Yes,” Dahlia said, looking at Cara with an unwavering and unafraid gaze.

Snorting at this, Cara twisted a lock of brown hair around her finger as she studied the other girl. “Then,” Cara said this slow and sure, as if making a great proclamation, “you must be mine.”

“Of course,” said Dahlia, giving the winsome smile she knew charmed Cara so, and the blonde chuckled, pulling Dahlia up, capturing her lips for a long and detailed kiss. They lay together and though she was taller, Dahlia fit perfectly in Cara’s arms. She tucked her head underneath the blonde’s chin and as they settled into sleep, Dahlia found comfort in the sound of Cara’s steady heartbeat, soothing her into unconsciousness. Though she would never admit it, she favored sleep above all other things, even Cara, because sleep was the one place where she could escape from reality and there was no thought, no pain, nothing but darkness and rest… an all abiding rest that Dahlia hoped would greet her in the afterlife.

It was a whimsy that she allowed only in her mind for she knew, as all Mord’Sith did, her actions would place her in the Underworld and that was where she belonged. Dahlia just hoped when the time came, Cara would be with her because she would be the only thing that could make such a place bearable. Just as Cara had done with their training and their life as Mord’Sith and for Dahlia, to be without Cara for eternity was an unbearable thought.

But for now, Dahlia slept and she rested, calmed by the darkness and the peace it brought her.

The temple at Jandrolin was exactly as Nathair made it out to be. It was a place of politics and intrigue and Dahlia couldn’t help but find a perverse pleasure in the games they would play. She enjoyed trying to discern Mistress Denna’s plans and what the true meaning behind her words and actions were. Cara, by contrast, was irritated by it and often found herself subject to Denna’s training and watching how they interacted, Dahlia saw in Cara shades of Denna, something their Mistress surely saw herself.

“She’s jealous,” said Dahlia simply. They had just returned from a meeting with Denna where she scorned their effectiveness in aiding the third battalion on a raiding mission for Lord Rahl. In a rare instance, they were alone in the bathing pool, and Cara just lifted an eyebrow in response as she sank into the water across from Dahlia. “She sees in you what she once was. Youth is something to be envied, even by the Mord’Sith it seems.”

“It doesn’t matter what she sees. I will become stronger than her, I will be a more powerful Mord’Sith,” Cara stated, her tone steely and determined, and Dahlia dipped her head at this, acknowledging this as fact and not mere theory. Moving through the water, towards Dahlia, a wild grin graced Cara’s features. She pressed Dahlia against the stone wall, their bodies weightless, Cara’s breath hot on her skin as she murmured, “With you by my side, how couldn’t I?”

Smiling and laughing quietly, enjoying Cara’s kiss, and basking in her affection, Dahlia replied, “The easiest way to become stronger is to learn her weaknesses.” When Cara paused in her kisses to look at her with dark and interested eyes, Dahlia gave a smirk. “She has a great deal of pride. I would use it to your advantage.” Trailing her fingers up Cara’s sides, watching the blonde shiver ever so slightly under her touch, Dahlia continued, “She does not trust compliments, no Mord’Sith would, but there are other ways to play upon her favor. Perhaps requesting additional training? Show you respect her skill and surely she’ll lower her defenses around you. This would allow you greater opportunity to prove yourself worthy of Lord Rahl.”

That wild and happy smile was once again on Cara’s features as she held Dahlia’s face in her hands and kissed her deeply. Moaning as Cara sucked on her tongue, Dahlia was left with very little doubt how the other girl felt about her plans. They would come to find in the following days, weeks, and months that it was Dahlia’s instincts that would bring them to greater prestige in the Mord’Sith. Cara was cunning and she was a vicious warrior but she didn’t have the same flair for manipulation and subterfuge that Dahlia did and it was those traits that were most useful for advancement at Jandrolin.

Rising quickly through the ranks created an animosity with their sisters, the ones who had served Mistress Denna longer, but had less responsibilities and status than Cara and Dahlia. They had to respond to these challenges to their authority properly, of course, and for Dahlia it was done with a swift and exacting punishment. Cara most often followed this path as well but sometimes, to Dahlia’s dismay, she liked to demonstrate her dominance sexually. Particularly with Triana, who had questioned and tested Cara from the first day they arrived at Jandrolin. Dahlia schooled herself into impartiality. Forced herself not to care, not to see, not to know, but it was difficult when she was often confronted with the object of Cara’s newfound interest.

As often as Cara found herself in this cat of mouse game with Triana, fighting with her over superiority, Dahlia found herself avoiding the taller brunette’s attentions. Dahlia was allowed the indulgence to spend as many hours as she had free in the temple library as a reward from Mistress Denna for her exemplary work in training a high ranking enemy General for Lord Rahl. More than once she had sensed someone watching her only to turn and find empty air and she knew it was Triana. After the sixth encounter of this sort, Dahlia set about placing herself in an area where such action would be impossible. Soon enough, she felt that same sensation of being watched but this time she lifted her eyes to lock her gaze on Triana who was unable to escape in time to avoid her notice. Irritated by this game, whatever it was, that Triana was playing but unwilling to show it, Dahlia smiled. It was similar to the winsome one she liked to give Cara, the one she knew the blonde found utterly charming. Only this smile wasn’t meant to enrapture and enflame, it was meant to set Triana at ease because Dahlia had often found it was those who felt comfortable that made the most mistakes. Give themselves enough rope and they will hang themselves with it.

“Sister,” Dahlia said this word soft and sweet, smiling as Triana’s eyes widened. “How are you?”

The question seemed to throw Triana off balance even further, blinking and shifting from foot to foot, before forming an obstinate look and saying with that voice that never seemed to match her harsh words, “I am Mord’Sith. That question has no meaning.”

Smiling still, Dahlia ducked her head, lips quirking as she went back to reading her book. When Triana remained, she lifted her gaze after several moments and asked, “Did you need something?”

“You read often,” said Triana finally. When Dahlia kept her gaze steady on her, silent and expecting, Triana’s hesitation turned into anger and she demanded, “Teach me.”

“You don’t know how?” asked Dahlia, her brow furrowing, wondering for the first time if Triana’s interest in her had nothing to do with her and Cara’s bond. Their closeness had been noted among all the sisters upon their arrival and while they guarded their feelings as closely as they had with Mistress Nathair it was impossible to hide them altogether. Dahlia had assumed Triana only sought her attention out of some sort of plan to show her superiority over Cara. Now she had an inkling of doubt.

“I was chosen before I could learn,” Triana said in short and clipped tones. “My Mistress never deemed it necessary to teach me but I wish to learn.” She paused and her jaw clenched as she looked off to one side, “If you would consider me worthy.”

Watching Triana restrain her anger, her humiliation, at having to say this to the person closest to the sister proven to be her greatest nemesis in the temple, Dahlia felt something stir in her. It wasn’t the same as what Cara inspired in her but it was familiar and Dahlia wondered how it was possible that someone besides Cara could make her feel. She thought it an impossible task but it happened and now that it had, she refused to ever acknowledge this to another soul. Especially Triana who, while the source of this odd sensation, she could not trust. That didn’t stop Dahlia from acceding to her request though.

“Of course you are worthy, Triana,” murmured Dahlia, touching Triana’s cheek and turning her head. When brown eyes met her own, looking at her with confusion and mistrust, Dahlia tilted her head. “When would you like to begin?”

“Today,” said Triana forcefully, her eyes gleaming with excitement, a look of resolve on her features.

“Very well,” said Dahlia, dipping her head, and without looking at the other girl she reached back to take her hand, smiling at the breath of air that Triana took in at the contact. It was something that Dahlia noted in the back of her mind, saving it for later.

For a year, Dahlia gave Triana lessons in the library, and Cara continued in her fight for superiority. Dahlia watching as she battled Triana through the ranks, each one in a race to beat the other for Mistress Denna’s favor. She helped Cara the best she could but decided, in the end, it was prudent to leave this battle to Cara, sensing too much interference would endanger her own place among the sisters. Besides that, she did not think this was something Cara wanted her help with. Her determination to humiliate Triana came from a place that held no familiarity for Dahlia. But her impartiality was put to the test when they were sent to exact punishment on a town that refused to pay tribute to Lord Rahl. They burned and raised it to the ground but not before Dahlia was injured in battle and when she fell, however momentarily, she looked up to see Triana and Cara fighting in front of her. Both protecting her in that small instant of weakness and when she returned to her feet, she could see the relief not only in Cara’s green eyes but in Triana’s brown ones and Dahlia wondered at the confusion it caused in her.

Their mission was a success and Dahlia found herself rewarded, along with the other sisters, with a raise in rank and the honor of having a private room. It was small and sterile with little more than a cot in it but it was hers and Dahlia wondered as she looked around it, if Mistress Denna would grant her the privilege of bringing books from the library to read in it. She had just sat on the bed when there was a knock on the door. Dahlia frowned. Cara never knocked. She knew that she would always be welcome and if it was Mistress Denna she would simply enter as was her right as everything in the temple was hers.

Walking to the door, she opened it to see Triana and before Dahlia has time to speak, Triana was in the room, shutting the door and standing in front of it, as if to block others from coming after. Dahlia’s brow furrowed and she started to question this when Triana unclenched her palm to reveal a small jar of ointment. “Triana?” she asked, wondering if that was what she thought it was.

“Do you remember that book we read? The one on healing salves and ointments?” Triana began and Dahlia nodded. “I spent what little free time I had attempting to make them. This one has proven useful for healing cuts.”

“Mistress Denna-” Dahlia began slowly.

“Does not know,” interrupted Triana with a frown, a dark look on her features. “Take it,” she demanded, pressing the jar into Dahlia’s hands, leather creaking as she forced Dahlia’s fingers around the jar. “It will help with your injuries.”

“Why?” asked Dahlia, honestly confused, wondering what profit or advantage Triana could gain from this action. If she or Triana were caught with such things they would be seen as weak and would be punished appropriately. Mord’Sith were trained to endure their injuries and were always left to deal with them naturally, relying solely on the breath of life for restoration to health.

“You did not need to teach me to read but you did,” said Triana, looking away from Dahlia, and she watched as the taller woman’s jaw clenched. Over their time together, Dahlia learned Triana only did this when she was acutely uncomfortable with a situation and did not know how to handle herself. “I wanted to repay you as a true sister would.”

Dahlia’s hands were moving before she knew it. One placing the jar of ointment on the bed and the other reaching for Triana, turning her head so their eyes met and once they did, she smiled softly. She didn’t know quite what to say and if she didn’t have the words, Dahlia found it was best not to speak at all. And so, Dahlia moved forward, pressing a gentle kiss onto Triana’s lips and when she pulled back, she saw Triana’s brown eyes were hooded, and her breathing shallow.

“I should go,” Triana managed to say, her voice husky and thick with a bare tremble present, and Dahlia nodded in response.

Alone again, Dahlia sat on the bed, holding the jar of ointment in her hand, thinking on Triana’s reaction to her kiss. It had made her unsure and nervous. This was a reaction Triana often had to things new to her, things she did not understand. Dahlia knew Triana had never been touched in that manner. One of kindness and caring, however subtle, and all her sexual encounters were about power and proving supremacy. Something done out of tactics and showing dominance. It was the Mord’Sith way and Dahlia’s kiss was decidedly not. It made Dahlia wonder why she had taken such a risk to act in such a manner around the other woman. Triana wasn’t Cara and it had always been Cara alone that she would reveal weakness to. Still, Dahlia looked at the jar again, bringing this to her was something so much like Cara that it was burned into her heart.

She remained in that position when Cara came to her. Opening the door and slipping into the room as was her right and Dahlia only lifted her head when she felt a gentle touch to her knees and looked up to see Cara crouched in front of her.

“Cara,” said Dahlia with a smile, relieved to see the blonde, and not Triana and the confusion she caused.

“What is this?” asked Cara, reaching for the jar of ointment.

“It’s useful for healing cuts,” Dahlia replied and when Cara lifted her gaze, she saw the silent question, asking where she got it and Dahlia sighed, looking off to one side. “Triana gave it to me.”

Cara’s head whipped up and her eyes had a dark look to them. “Why would she give you this?” she demanded.

“She says it’s repayment for the reading lessons,” murmured Dahlia, taking the ointment back, pausing only when Cara’s fingers wrapped around her hand. Studying the blonde, Dahlia wondered at the emotions she sensed in her, the barely restrained rage and the obstinate hurt hidden in the depths of her eyes. All too soon, she recognized it in herself, it was how she would feel when Cara chose to demonstrate her dominance over their sisters sexually. Cara was jealous. Pulling off her gloves, wanting to touch Cara without the leather between them, Dahlia stroked the back of her fingers across Cara’s cheek. “I love you,” Dahlia said simply, her words soft and solemn, and leaving Cara with no doubts as to the truth of them.

“What game is she playing?” Cara’s voice was a low growl, eyes flashing at the thought of Triana involving Dahlia in their difficulties. She was the one that Triana had a grudge against, Dahlia should never have become a part of that.

“I don’t know that it is a game,” said Dahlia quietly, smiling when Cara’s head jerked up. “I think she was being honest.”

Snorting at this, Cara shook her head, and her eyes narrowed at the jar of ointment. She quickly yanked off her glove and untied the laces on her arm, shoving the leather up to her elbow. Just as quickly, Cara applied the ointment and stared at it, as if waiting for it to burn her skin and leave her writhing in agony as poison seeped through her veins. Instead, there was nothing.

“See?” Dahlia offered, entwining her fingers with Cara’s.

“You still shouldn’t trust her,” said Cara fiercely, frowning as she rose up, sitting behind Dahlia and set about the ritual of removing her leathers, beginning with her collar. “I would not trust anyone here. Their ambitions are all too great.”

“I trust you,” said Dahlia in a whisper, turning to look back at Cara as her collar was removed.

“That’s different,” Cara insisted, her hands working at Dahlia’s sides, tugging the leather down and Dahlia breathed a quiet sigh of relief, enjoying the feel of the cool air against her hot skin, ignoring the sting of her cuts. “We’ve always been together.”

“We always will be,” replied Dahlia, repeating the words of old, smiling before capturing Cara’s lips in a kiss.

The careful and cautious touch, mindful of Dahlia’s injuries, was abandoned in the face of desire and their leathers were quickly removed and the tiny bed creaked under their weight. Cara smiled, wild and reckless, holding Dahlia’s face in her hands before kissing her again. Her touch was feathery and light and convinced the ointment presented no danger to the brunette, Cara took it in her hands, fingertips trailing over Dahlia’s skin, applying it to her cuts. Dahlia gasped at the chill of the ointment and the heat of Cara’s touch, arching into her caress, unable to hold back a moan as Cara set the jar aside and slid down, nudging Dahlia’s thighs apart. Her tongue was eager and insistent, just as her lips, sucking and playing with her clit, and Dahlia clenched her jaw, refusing to make a sound and alert their sisters to their activities and lose what little privileges they had just gained.

When she came, Cara replaced her lips and tongue with fingers, muffling Dahlia’s shouts in a kiss, smiling as the brunette went slack against the bed. Dahlia started to make an attempt to reciprocate but Cara held her firm, hooking a leg around Dahlia and holding her flush against the blonde’s body, their curves and valleys fitting together perfectly. “Rest,” Cara commanded, her hand firm but tender on Dahlia’s stomach, holding her still. When Dahlia turned her head to meet their eyes, Cara’s lips were lifted in the barest smile and her eyes shone with a fierce affection. “This is enough.”

The accuracy of that statement was debatable in Dahlia’s mind but the fact Cara had said it, Cara who despised say such things, even to Dahlia, meant the world to her. She sought to remember this moment forever in her mind, storing it away in that hidden place where her emotions were buried away. Where all her precious memories existed. Memories all of Cara.

Dahlia was nineteen when Cara led the charge at Palace Ridge. The battle was long and hard but victory was theirs in the end, with losses that Lord Rahl deemed acceptable. It was in the aftermath that Dahlia came before Lord Rahl for the first time and in his eyes, cold and examining, she felt as if she was in the presence of a god. Their connection to him was so much stronger in person. It had always been there, calling in the back of her mind, flowing in her veins through the Mord’Sith magic, and in the burning touch of her agiels but with him standing before her it was a tangible thing. Living and breathing in the air itself.

It was that battle which put Cara equal to Denna. She no longer addressed her as Mistress but spoke to her as one sister would another and that night, Cara did not come to Dahlia’s bed, but instead she was summoned to Lord Rahl’s. Something in Dahlia had expected jealousy as she had experienced in the past but there was nothing. Lord Rahl was her master, their master, and they were his to command. She thought it glorious for Cara to be chosen because she knew, as did all Mord’Sith, that the favorites of Lord Rahl were the ones who quickly gained status and power among their sisters. In the early hours of the morning, before sunlight heralded the dawn, Dahlia woke to a soft creak and she jolted awake, hands reaching for her agiels.

“Dahlia,” Cara husked, clasping the other woman’s hand, stilling her. “It’s me.”

“Cara?” murmured Dahlia, blinking in the dark, focusing on the blonde whose head was lowered and hidden from her sight. “I thought you were with Lord Rahl.” No response came and Dahlia frowned as Cara’s head stayed down, reminding Dahlia much of their early days with the Mord’Sith, when they were forbidden to look into the eyes of their Mistress. But they had come so far since then and Cara had never feared looking her in the eyes. “Cara?” Dahlia said again, reaching for the other woman, clasping her chin in a gentle hold and when Cara still refused to look at her, something akin to panic seized Dahlia. “What is it?”

Finally raising her head, Cara revealed a purpling bruise around her right eye and Dahlia frowned, wanting to question it but realizing quickly who must have been responsible and it wasn’t her place to ask. “It is another form of training,” Cara said, her voice frighteningly flat, devoid of inflection. “That is what Denna says. Lord Rahl does this only to teach us. It is an honor.”

“Yes,” said Dahlia quietly, wanting to agree with Cara, needing to agree, forcing back the instinct that told her if it was anyone other than Lord Rahl, whom they swore their fealty and devotion to, she would have killed them for this. Moving closer, she brushed her lips against the blonde’s cheek before turning to reach for the ointment she still had in supply thanks to Triana’s attentions. With a light and meticulous touch, she applied the medicine. When she was done, Dahlia began the slow process of unbraiding Cara’s hair and removing her leathers, and when Cara was naked, she saw the full extent of her encounter with Lord Rahl.

Welts and bruises, burns and cuts, skin red and ugly from the mark of agiels, and Dahlia wondered why Cara would have to be trained in such a way but quickly stopped this thought. It was not for her to question Lord Rahl. Only to serve but in this moment her only thoughts of servitude were related to Cara, applying the ointment over the cuts and bruises, hope they would help to heal them quickly, then she helped the blonde slip under the covers, holding Cara in her arms.

The room was silent but even so, Dahlia had to strain to hear the hushed thank you from Cara that accompanied the other woman burying herself in Dahlia’s embrace. In that instant, fleeting as it was, Dahlia hated Lord Rahl for the lesson he gave, wishing it would have been her that he chose. Anything to save Cara the pain she had clearly suffered.

Over the next year, Lord Rahl would continue to summon Cara to his chambers, only stopping when it was evident she was with child. For Dahlia’s part, she was relieved that Cara wouldn’t have to endure anymore training at the hands of Lord Rahl. The father of Cara’s baby was no secret amongst the sisters and many envied Cara for having the prestige of carrying Lord Rahl’s child. They never spoke of the baby and Cara’s feelings about it, not until she was close to giving birth.

“I hope it’s a boy,” said Cara softly. She was sitting in the chair that had been a gift from Mistress Denna just a few months earlier, staring out the small window of her room. Dahlia was leaning against the wall, arms folded over her chest. She frowned at Cara’s words and the blonde’s lips quirked on seeing this. “The Dragon Core will take the baby away if it’s male,” she explained.

“You want that?” asked Dahlia, her frown deepening. “If you had a girl we could raise her. She would be Mord’Sith and we could make sure she became the greatest of all our sisters. The best fighter, the best tactician.”

Silence and Cara’s eyes were hooded and they had a gleam of something desperate and deadly. “We know what it is to be Mord’Sith,” said Cara, her gaze hard. “I try not to think of this child as mine. It is Lord Rahl’s. It is D’Hara’s. But if it was a girl and if she was raised here, with us, she would become mine, and it would make me weak. Dangerously so.” When Dahlia kneeled in front of her, touching her cheek, Cara looked at her, expression wild and lost. “I don’t know if I could bring myself to train her.”

Suddenly Dahlia had the image of a blonde haired girl, petite and smiling, with cornflower blue eyes and she understood perfectly why Cara wished her child was male. All the same, if it was a girl, she would be Mord’Sith, and she would have to be trained and if Cara could not bring herself to do it then Dahlia couldn’t bear to leave it to someone else. Someone like Denna, who would take a special pleasure in breaking the daughter of the only sister fast proving to be her greatest threat to power.

“Then I will do it in your place,” said Dahlia quiet and sure, looking up at Cara. “And together, we will protect her best we can.”

The only response Cara gave was to lightly squeeze Dahlia’s hand. Neither one of them spoke of leaving the Mord’Sith and escaping with the child, Lord Rahl’s child, because it would lead to a hunt to the ends of the world. There would be nowhere for them to run that he could not find them and where would they go? The Mord’Sith was all they had known since they were children. This was their life, their existence, to not be here, to not be Mord’Sith, was like erasing their very identity.

When the child arrived, it was a boy as Cara hoped, and he was taken just moments after his birth, swaddled in blankets and Denna’s lips were curved in a cruel and knowing smile as she told Cara she would be greatly rewarded for this. Dahlia kept close by Cara’s side, watching over her, but when she retreated from the blonde’s room she sought news of the boy. Wanting to discover which regiment of the Dragon Core he was taken to. It was no easy task and when she finally found the information she sought, she wished she hadn’t. Lord Rahl had killed the boy, seeing him as a potential threat to his authority. D’Hara was without an heir and once again, Dahlia had to control her anger towards their master.

She would not tell Cara. Better to let her think her child alive and far from her then dead and forever from her reach. Dahlia refused to do this to her and when Denna came to Cara, announcing her promotion as head of the temple at Togressa, she felt relief that they would soon be far from Jandrolin and Lord Rahl so this might never happen again. Cara was granted the honor of choosing eleven Mord’Sith to accompany her to the newly constructed temple and Dahlia never questioned her place in their numbers. However, it was nothing short of a surprise to find Triana among them.

Their days were occupied with raids and enforcement of the newly captured territory. Ensuring the citizens of Togressa understood who was their true ruler. Dahlia was grateful for the frenzied pace of their new life, how Cara’s responsibilities as temple head kept her thoughts from the boy. She wondered if Cara herself had brought Triana along simply because the brunette’s challenging and argumentative nature would keep her forever occupied. Dahlia was alone in the bath, preferring to tend to herself rather than rely upon the slave girls. She didn’t enjoy having anyone’s hands upon her but Cara’s and when she sensed another presence in the room, her eyes immediately flew open, and she frowned upon seeing Triana.

“I disturbed you,” Triana stated, not concerned with her nudity, meeting Dahlia’s eyes steadily.

“Perhaps,” allowed Dahlia, tilting her head to one side. “But not enough that I would demand you should leave.”

Triana’s eyes shone with something Dahlia couldn’t quite identify. If it was anything it was relief and a muted affection of sorts and Dahlia watched as Triana walked into the bath, coming closer to Dahlia with each step. “This temple has no library for you,” said Triana, forming the smallest smile. “Are you bored?”

“At first, I didn’t know what to do with myself,” Dahlia admitted. She was used to spending her free time absorbed in books, seeking new ways to improve herself for Lord Rahl and D’Hara with the knowledge they provided. “Then Cara brought us rebels to train and I’ve been kept busy with that. Though,” Dahlia smiled, soft and winsome, and watched as Triana’s cheeks turned a lovely shade of red that Dahlia suspected had nothing to do with the heat of the bath. “I have been collecting books in our raids.”

“I wondered why your knapsack was always so full,” said Triana and Dahlia released a quiet chuckle in response. Dahlia’s concentration returned to her bath, dipping her head underneath the water in preparation to clean her hair, and when she rose to the surface she found Triana standing a breath away from her. She forced herself to remain still as the brunette reached out to her, thinking it best to allow Triana this indulgence for now, though her body protested any touch but Cara’s. A lingering caress trailed over her cheek, just the tips of Triana’s fingers, but this alone caused the taller woman’s breath to become shallow. “Did you ever wonder why I didn’t refuse Cara’s request that I attend her at this temple? After all,” Triana formed that look she knew Cara despised. The one of utter superiority and knowing. “We share nothing between us but animosity and spite.”

“The raise in rank seemed a logical explanation,” replied Dahlia, all the while knowing this wasn’t Triana’s reason.

“There was that,” Triana conceded and she moved closer yet and Dahlia held firm, keeping her eyes steady with Triana’s, refusing to allow a moment of weakness or surrender. “But more than that, there was you.” Dahlia didn’t flinch, she didn’t duck, she didn’t react at all and Triana smiled and Dahlia had to still herself as the other woman pushed a lock of wet hair behind her ear. “I know the relationship you share with her and I don’t care. One day, very soon, I will prove myself her superior.”

“And then you will claim me as a prize?” asked Dahlia, unable to help the incredulity in her tone, wondering if Triana really thought her so weak. Hadn’t the other woman seen her in battle? Watched her break prisoners faster than any other sister save for Denna who had seven more years of experience on her side?

“You would never allow that,” said Triana with a smile. “I think you would try to kill me first.”

Unable to help herself, Dahlia chuckled. Despite herself, she was fond of Triana. There was something about the other woman, about her arrogance and that speck of vulnerability she would reveal, it reminded Dahlia of Cara but at the same time not. Dahlia couldn't find it in herself to deny that it touched her.

“I wouldn’t try, I would succeed,” said Dahlia, moving closer to Triana, enjoying the way her face reddened as their bodies came in contact. Reaching up to wind her fingers into Triana’s hair, let loose from the braid, she continued, “If you would not take me as a prize then what purpose does this serve, Triana? Is it just another game to play with Cara?”

Triana’s jaw clenched and she looked off to one side, away from Dahlia’s eyes, and this was familiar to Dahlia, she had seen it countless times when giving the taller woman reading lessons. When Dahlia touched her cheek, gently turning her head so their eyes met, Triana swallowed hard, looking at her with steely resolve as she said, “I want you.”

She didn’t know what compelled her, it was a feeling that not even Cara had created in her, but Dahlia drew forward, kissing Triana. It was just a bare brush of their lips but when they parted, Triana looked as if Dahlia had ravished her and smiling at the taller woman, Dahlia murmured, “What little of me isn’t possessed by Lord Rahl, belongs to Cara.”

“That can change,” said Triana stubbornly and before Dahlia could reply, she turned and walked out of the bath. Leaving Dahlia alone and staring after her, contemplating what the other woman could be planning.

It was a horrible feeling, uncomfortable and itching, as if something was crawling under her skin to know she might be responsible for any possible troubles that Cara might face. Even if it only came from Triana. Which is why she told Cara of their encounter when they were preparing for bed, removing each other’s leathers. Cara’s collar had been taken off and now she was responding in kind for Dahlia. She felt Cara’s breath on the her skin, warming it as the blonde spoke.

“Triana,” said Cara her name as if it was a curse. “I’ll take care of her.”

Her collar fell to the floor and Dahlia turned, moving to unlace Cara’s sides then her arms, sliding the material down her body. Keeping her eyes fixed on her task, she questioned, “What will you do?”

“I’ll take care of her,” Cara repeated, looking at Dahlia with lidded eyes, and Dahlia knew all too well that Cara would say no more on the subject. Nodding her head in concession, Dahlia remained still as Cara set about removing her leathers.

The ritual was comforting and familiar to them both. It was what they did every day and night, when circumstances allowed, and Cara’s touch on her skin was the most natural thing in the world for Dahlia. Reassuring and simple, and much like the burn of her agiels it helped to focus her mind. Cara gave Dahlia a clarity she could not find with anyone else and she would trust her in this matter. The details were inconsequential because in the end she knew it would be resolved and that was all Dahlia wanted. She tried to ignore the nagging in her mind, the memories of her and Triana in the library, because it was temporary. What she had with Cara was for always. She knew that as well as Cara did. That was why they remained together.

Punishment came swift and merciless for Triana and Cara set about making certain she knew her place among their sisters. When news of the Seeker arrived and Denna’s attempts to break him failing, Cara smirked, remarking that Dahlia wouldn’t have failed. Their orders to attack Valaria brought a ruthlessness out in Cara that Dahlia hadn’t seen in some time. They planned the siege together and watching the cool efficiency with which Cara dispatched the few remaining Confessors stirred something in Dahlia. It was frightening for anyone else, anyone not a Mord’Sith, but Dahlia only saw beauty in the brutality Cara exhibited.

Because she wished to know all the facets of the blonde’s personality so she might love her all the better. When they returned from killing the Confessors, Cara didn’t bother to remove their leathers before taking her. Unlacing Dahlia’s leathers only enough to shove her pants past her hips, fingers entering her hard and fierce and Cara kissed her deeply. Tasting everything she had to offer and demanding more, holding Dahlia up against the wall as she thrust inside her, grinning when Dahlia’s legs wrapped around her waist. There was no gentleness in this moment but Dahlia didn’t care because it was another side to Cara, another piece to treasure, and she wanted everything Cara could give her.

The Seeker was growing bolder every day, threatening more of Lord Rahl’s territory, trying to usurp his control, and it was little surprise when they found themselves recalled to Jandrolin. Days after they arrived, Dahlia was sent before Lord Rahl. All her planning in previous battles had pleased him, as had her performance at Valaria, and he wanted her to go to Pendison Reach. They were having problems securing the area and Lord Rahl felt her best suited to aid his soldiers in the task.

A great feeling of pride swelled in Dahlia. This was the first time Lord Rahl had ever asked anything of her specifically and she would not fail him. Doing so would bring shame not only on herself but Cara and all her sisters. Dipping her head, she assured him of her success and he chuckled, murmuring how he had always liked her cleverness. Unable to help herself, Dahlia’s eyes lifted, because she hadn’t heard such a thing since leaving Nathair’s side. Lord Rahl forgave her impudence with a smile and a touch to her cheek and he kissed her so gently that she wondered how he could have ever trained Cara so harshly.

She returned to the temple to inform Cara of her task. The blonde smiled at her, much like Lord Rahl, but her kiss was not gentle and sweet. It was all consuming passion and when they broke apart, Cara’s voice was low and husky, demanding that Dahlia return to her. Dahlia replied that she would always return and Cara echoed the sentiment then it was time for her to depart on the long journey to Pendison Reach. Never knowing those would be their final words to one another before the world fell into chaos and the Seeker shattered the only life that Dahlia had ever known.

Lord Rahl was dead.

Cara was exiled.

Triana had betrayed Cara in some attempt to prove her superiority and Cara had killed her, aiding the Seeker. Abandoning everything that she was in the process. Dahlia did not know what to think, what to do, so she waited at Jandrolin for Cara to return but she didn’t. Dahlia cursed herself for encouraging Triana's interest in her, believing it led to Cara's downfall, destroying the only person she ever loved. Cara continued to travel with the Seeker and tales of her reached Dahlia’s ears along with the news that Richard Cypher was actually Richard Rahl, son of Panis Rahl, and it all began to make sense. Why Cara would travel with him but it didn’t explain why Cara never returned to her. They always came back to one another. Always.

Then it struck, the realization that perhaps Cara thought she knew of Triana’s plans, but how could she? Dahlia had been leagues away, in Pendison Reach, and it was only after word of Lord Rahl’s death arrived that she knew all that had transpired. So why had Cara left her for the first time since they were children? Dahlia was desperate to know, just as desperate as she was to have Cara with her again. Then Lord Rahl came to her, claiming what was rightfully his, telling her that if she joined him she would have the chance to do the same.

Dahlia agreed because it was like a living death, having Cara was absent from her side, and they had promised to protect one another. To keep each other safe from their weaknesses and she knew, from all she heard, from all Lord Rahl had told her, that Cara wasn’t safe with the Seeker. She never could be, not without Dahlia, and so she went to Cara and she lied again.

Speaking of the son she knew was dead, the only thing she had ever kept from Cara and she saw how she tried to pretend. Acting as if his life didn’t matter to her but Dahlia knew it was a lie. Cara cared for her child, Dahlia had always known that. In the beginning, Dahlia hadn’t wanted to do it. To force Cara to come with her. She tried to appeal to her with memories of old but instead she was asked to join the Seeker, to serve the false Lord Rahl, and in that moment Dahlia knew Cara was truly lost and it was up to Dahlia to protect Cara from her own weakness.

Witnessing the training, the torture, the screams, and the betrayal in Cara’s eyes, it hurt worse than any punishment or wound in battle that Dahlia had ever received but it was worth it because in the end she had Cara. Everything was right with the world and Dahlia felt content once more, comfortable in her skin, pleased that she had succeeded.

She had saved Cara from herself. At last, they were together, and to Dahlia it was all that mattered.

End