(no subject)
*dumps fic here* *wanders back to legendland bingo*
Title: Monster
Author: madmguillotine
Rating: PG I guess, whatevs
Genre: UST? Some angsting?
Fandom: Legend of the Seeker
Characters/Pairing: Richard/Nicci, implied Richard/Kahlan and Richard/Denna for 1 sentence xD
Word Count: 1140
Spoilers: For the episodes "Dark" + "Bound"
Note: This is based within the time-span of a 28 second scene from “2x14 Bound” (yes, I timed it xD). I never read the books, so this is R/N based off the series. I've also never written srs fic for this fandom (or any, since I was 15) so...eh, there's a warning for ya. Thank you to ivanolix for beta-ing for moi :D
Nicci took Richard's hand in hers, and drew it to her lips. He didn't resist. He didn't even flinch. He just watched as her eyelids fluttered closed, as if she were concentrating all of her energy into this one, simple, quiet act. Her lips were soft against his rough skin, and their touch reminded him of Kahlan's. In a way, they were Kahlan's. Nicci's touch was gentle. Delicate. No one would suspect that she held so much power - the power that should have been his, but that he willingly gave up so that he could continue his quest as the Seeker.
"You have Kahlan's blood on your hands, Richard," Nicci said, lifting her head and gazing up at him through her eyelashes. A surge of guilt racked his body as Nicci's fingers coiled tighter around his. He didn't look down. He knew it was there. What difference did a few drops make when he had the blood of armies on his hands? It was all too familiar to him - the sensation as it clung to his skin, the taste in the back of his throat. No matter how many times he scrubbed it out of his clothing, or spat it out of his mouth, it still remained.
No, having Kahlan's blood on his hands wasn't the source of his paralysis. He knew he wasn’t responsible for hurting her, and he knew she would be fine. It was Nicci's presence that kept him locked in place.
"Perhaps you'd like to make it up to her?” Nicci asked seductively, pulling herself closer to him. She met his gaze. A cold fire flared behind her stare; an evil so powerful that it was almost tangible.
She grasped onto his other hand, and he instinctively closed his fingers around hers. A mistake. His conscience ordered him to push her back, but he didn’t obey. Her small hands might as well have been manacles, for as she was bound to Kahlan, he was bound to Nicci.
He remembered the first time he felt her hands in his. They were smaller now, but just as familiar as when he had surrendered his magic to her. When he had surrendered himself to her. Those had been her words: "Surrender yourself to me." It had been easy to obey her then. If she asked the same of him now, would he comply? The fact that he didn't know the answer frightened him beyond imagining.
She drew nearer, bringing her face close to his. He didn’t dare move. He wouldn’t even allow himself to blink. Nicci’s hold over him was like nothing he had ever experienced when he was near Kahlan. With Kahlan, he felt a certain warmth, rooted in comfort and safety. He reveled in her intelligence, in her heart, and in her undying loyalty to him.
Richard’s connection to Nicci was based on an entirely different energy. She had no heart and her soul was made of poison. When he saw that blaze in her eyes, he knew he should have been repulsed. Instead, he wanted her to drag him into her hell and let the fire consume him.
"We can make her feel better," Nicci whispered into his ear, her cheek brushing against his. Her breath was hot, her skin warm. He swallowed hard as her hands tightened around his, her fingernails digging into his flesh.
He pressed his lips together tightly, in an attempt to suppress his rash urge to say yes. Another wave of guilt ran its course through his body, but it was countered by the unwanted desire. He felt numb. He just wouldn’t move. If he didn’t move, time would stand still. Don’t move.
Nicci drew back and studied him, dragging her eyes over his neck, his lips, the contours of his face, until she fixed her gaze on his mouth. She met his eyes for one moment, and Richard’s heart pounded violently in his chest. She didn’t need his permission; she would take what she wanted, and he would let her. She knew it, too. That's what scared him even more.
She pulled herself closer to him, and as she did, Richard tried to rationalize his thoughts.
If I touch her, I touch Kahlan, not Nicci. I will do this for Kahlan. Not for myself. Not for Nicci.
But that was a lie, and he knew it. He wanted Nicci. He wanted her ever since she had ran into him in the Palace of the Prophets. But he had brushed those thoughts aside back then, and hadn’t given them serious consideration. It was only natural for him to be attracted to other women, and it was only natural for him to feel flattered when someone paid him mind. He knew where his heart belonged, and he never before feared that he'd betray Kahlan, or even want another woman. The only time he had felt remotely similar was in the presence of Denna, but even then, he was able to bury his guilt by blaming it on the torture or her magic.
He had no such excuse with Nicci. The way that she watched him made him realize that there was a part of himself that he didn't quite understand. A very dark part of his soul that only she would be capable of unleashing, and that he was very eager to explore.
And now she was standing in front of him, her fingers entwined in his, her words still echoing soundlessly in his ear. Now she was one with Kahlan, a paradox of hatred and love. She couldn't hurt him, for she had no power, and he couldn't hurt her, because he would only be hurting Kahlan as well. She had him trapped.
He was terrified.
He was intoxicated.
Her lips came close to his, and he could almost taste the blood that flowed down her chin.
Kahlan’s blood.
No.
He wrenched his hands out of her grasp, and grabbed her arms, pushing her away fiercely as he was finally released from his self-induced paralysis.
“What kind of monster are you?” He asked, sickened. He felt weak. Nicci didn’t answer; she only stared into his eyes. He kept his hands wrapped around her upper arms, partly for support, and partly because he wasn't ready to let her go yet.
Then ever so slightly, Nicci’s mouth curled into a wicked, knowing smile.
The question wasn’t meant for her. It was meant for him.
Title: Monster
Author: madmguillotine
Rating: PG I guess, whatevs
Genre: UST? Some angsting?
Fandom: Legend of the Seeker
Characters/Pairing: Richard/Nicci, implied Richard/Kahlan and Richard/Denna for 1 sentence xD
Word Count: 1140
Spoilers: For the episodes "Dark" + "Bound"
Note: This is based within the time-span of a 28 second scene from “2x14 Bound” (yes, I timed it xD). I never read the books, so this is R/N based off the series. I've also never written srs fic for this fandom (or any, since I was 15) so...eh, there's a warning for ya. Thank you to ivanolix for beta-ing for moi :D
Nicci took Richard's hand in hers, and drew it to her lips. He didn't resist. He didn't even flinch. He just watched as her eyelids fluttered closed, as if she were concentrating all of her energy into this one, simple, quiet act. Her lips were soft against his rough skin, and their touch reminded him of Kahlan's. In a way, they were Kahlan's. Nicci's touch was gentle. Delicate. No one would suspect that she held so much power - the power that should have been his, but that he willingly gave up so that he could continue his quest as the Seeker.
"You have Kahlan's blood on your hands, Richard," Nicci said, lifting her head and gazing up at him through her eyelashes. A surge of guilt racked his body as Nicci's fingers coiled tighter around his. He didn't look down. He knew it was there. What difference did a few drops make when he had the blood of armies on his hands? It was all too familiar to him - the sensation as it clung to his skin, the taste in the back of his throat. No matter how many times he scrubbed it out of his clothing, or spat it out of his mouth, it still remained.
No, having Kahlan's blood on his hands wasn't the source of his paralysis. He knew he wasn’t responsible for hurting her, and he knew she would be fine. It was Nicci's presence that kept him locked in place.
"Perhaps you'd like to make it up to her?” Nicci asked seductively, pulling herself closer to him. She met his gaze. A cold fire flared behind her stare; an evil so powerful that it was almost tangible.
She grasped onto his other hand, and he instinctively closed his fingers around hers. A mistake. His conscience ordered him to push her back, but he didn’t obey. Her small hands might as well have been manacles, for as she was bound to Kahlan, he was bound to Nicci.
He remembered the first time he felt her hands in his. They were smaller now, but just as familiar as when he had surrendered his magic to her. When he had surrendered himself to her. Those had been her words: "Surrender yourself to me." It had been easy to obey her then. If she asked the same of him now, would he comply? The fact that he didn't know the answer frightened him beyond imagining.
She drew nearer, bringing her face close to his. He didn’t dare move. He wouldn’t even allow himself to blink. Nicci’s hold over him was like nothing he had ever experienced when he was near Kahlan. With Kahlan, he felt a certain warmth, rooted in comfort and safety. He reveled in her intelligence, in her heart, and in her undying loyalty to him.
Richard’s connection to Nicci was based on an entirely different energy. She had no heart and her soul was made of poison. When he saw that blaze in her eyes, he knew he should have been repulsed. Instead, he wanted her to drag him into her hell and let the fire consume him.
"We can make her feel better," Nicci whispered into his ear, her cheek brushing against his. Her breath was hot, her skin warm. He swallowed hard as her hands tightened around his, her fingernails digging into his flesh.
He pressed his lips together tightly, in an attempt to suppress his rash urge to say yes. Another wave of guilt ran its course through his body, but it was countered by the unwanted desire. He felt numb. He just wouldn’t move. If he didn’t move, time would stand still. Don’t move.
Nicci drew back and studied him, dragging her eyes over his neck, his lips, the contours of his face, until she fixed her gaze on his mouth. She met his eyes for one moment, and Richard’s heart pounded violently in his chest. She didn’t need his permission; she would take what she wanted, and he would let her. She knew it, too. That's what scared him even more.
She pulled herself closer to him, and as she did, Richard tried to rationalize his thoughts.
If I touch her, I touch Kahlan, not Nicci. I will do this for Kahlan. Not for myself. Not for Nicci.
But that was a lie, and he knew it. He wanted Nicci. He wanted her ever since she had ran into him in the Palace of the Prophets. But he had brushed those thoughts aside back then, and hadn’t given them serious consideration. It was only natural for him to be attracted to other women, and it was only natural for him to feel flattered when someone paid him mind. He knew where his heart belonged, and he never before feared that he'd betray Kahlan, or even want another woman. The only time he had felt remotely similar was in the presence of Denna, but even then, he was able to bury his guilt by blaming it on the torture or her magic.
He had no such excuse with Nicci. The way that she watched him made him realize that there was a part of himself that he didn't quite understand. A very dark part of his soul that only she would be capable of unleashing, and that he was very eager to explore.
And now she was standing in front of him, her fingers entwined in his, her words still echoing soundlessly in his ear. Now she was one with Kahlan, a paradox of hatred and love. She couldn't hurt him, for she had no power, and he couldn't hurt her, because he would only be hurting Kahlan as well. She had him trapped.
He was terrified.
He was intoxicated.
Her lips came close to his, and he could almost taste the blood that flowed down her chin.
Kahlan’s blood.
No.
He wrenched his hands out of her grasp, and grabbed her arms, pushing her away fiercely as he was finally released from his self-induced paralysis.
“What kind of monster are you?” He asked, sickened. He felt weak. Nicci didn’t answer; she only stared into his eyes. He kept his hands wrapped around her upper arms, partly for support, and partly because he wasn't ready to let her go yet.
Then ever so slightly, Nicci’s mouth curled into a wicked, knowing smile.
The question wasn’t meant for her. It was meant for him.