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madame_denna) wrote2018-11-17 12:08 am
FIC: Where Life Takes Us [IV/V] - Living On Borrowed Time
Rating: NC-17
Words: 2484
Warnings for the whole story: Mord'Sith Content, Dubious Content, Violence, Discipline
Summary: The sequel and directly following the events in 'A bond of trust that even time can't sever'. You could read this story as stand-alone, but it would make more sense to read the other first.. It explores Denna's and Cara's backstory at the People's Palace pre-show, until the events in the episode "Denna" up to the events in the episode "Bloodline".
Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended. They are not mine and - of course no money is made. I don't any of the characters mentioned in this story. (Even though Mistress Denna might own me.
A/N: Written for
endgirl who gave me the prompt/idea for this story (in 2012).A/N²: I shelved this in 2012 when I lost 10k of this fic in a technical mishap. I didn't feel like writing it again until now. Even though I think it might even better now... I'm glad it got it's ending after all.
Part III
"You better have a very compelling reason to be at my door at this hour."
Denna's long blonde tresses are out of it's customary braid, draped loosely over one shoulder. She is wearing nothing but an ivory robe, that falls mid-thigh and it is quite apparent to Cara she has been asleep until mere moments ago before Cara choose to knock at her door. It is past midnight and Cara begins to question if it had been such a grand idea after all.
Her gaze shifts away from Denna's searching eyes as it travels over her body, takes in the fresh lesions and the flimsy shift she is wearing since Cara left Darken Rahl's chambers once he was... finished with her.
"You did mind after all... hm?" Denna wonders, for once without bite or judgment. But not as if it comes as a surprise to her either. She opens the door a little wider for Cara to step inside without another word. It is not entirely a question Cara wants to answer and finds herself grateful Denna does not press for one.
Denna bolts the door behind her, and then walks back to her bed, where Cara catches a glimpse of the crumbled sheets and a comforter thrown back. A wax candle on her nightstand is the only source of illumination, the flame flickering faintly as Denna passes it by, slipping out of her robe and beneath the covers with a grace Cara envies her for.
For a long moment Cara just stands there, hesitant of how to proceed. The only thought occupying her mind since she left their master's bedchamber had been coming here. What would transpire once she ultimately arrived had played little part, but now it is rather pressing. Unexpectedly she feels foolish for even coming here to begin with, disturbing Denna's night's rest. For what exactly?
But before she can swing round and leave, she hears Denna calling out for her, as if sensing her distress.
"Come on now." It sounds indulgent and warm, just like the silken sheets Denna is lounging beneath. And before she can contemplate it, Cara's feet are already moving forward. The mattress dips when she climbs into the bed and below the dark covers, close enough to feel the other woman's presence - her warmth - beside her, but not near enough to touch.
After some time Denna blows out the candle and the room plunges into darkness but for the silver shimmer of stars, shining brightly through the arched windows. For a long while they lay in silence and Cara finds herself listening to Denna's breathing, the only sound in the otherwise quiet room.
Eventually, she senses Denna shift beside her and then feels sure hands reaching out for her. The blonde pushes the slight shift up her body and off, then draws Cara close against her bare form. For a split second it startles Cara and she ponders if Denna desires more than only sleep from her tonight, but her long legs just entangle with her own. Her head comes to rest against the crook of Denna's neck, and arms around her shoulders hold her close.
"It will get... more bearable in time." Denna whispers against her hair, barely audible, but she doesn't move. Not even when salty drops trail down her chest and Cara feels something expand almost painfully inside her as she clings to the warm body beneath hers. Something far too great to fit inside her, something she knows shouldn't even be there.
She lies awake for a long while after, even as soft breathing above her has evened out, until eventually, the steady beat of Denna's heart lulls her to sleep.
---
News arrive that Mistress Denna has returned from her latest assignment to capture and train the Seeker. The way her shouts echo off the dungeon walls and far up into the corridors of the temple, tells anyone it did not go as faultlessly as she had planned. The First Mistress has been brought down into a very private dungeon cell and Lord Rahl himself has taken it upon himself to see to her punishment. A personal reprimand over the blood-pit. Up to this day, she had been his darling after all.
Hours pass agonizingly slow, with no further notice of what has happened to Denna and Cara tries to distract herself from thinking too much about it. She has no idea how this is going to affect the future in the temple – or if it is at all. She has to remind herself who Denna rightly is. She has not made her way to the top of the Sisterhood by chance or stroke of luck. It's not a place anyone can rise to if they are unwilling to fight tooth and nail to get there. Cara tries to remember that Denna must be aware of how to handle circumstances like this, even if she is not one known for her failures. Without a doubt, she knew exactly what to anticipate as she came back to the temple. If nothing else, Denna is far too pragmatic to cling to a ludicrous phantasm that Lord Rahl will condone the loss of the Seeker from his grasp.
And yet, in the evening, when she has finally finished her duties, nothing can hold Cara any longer from the stairwell leading down to the heart of the temple. The regular dungeons are cold and clammy, and with the sparse illumination from the torches at the walls, it takes Cara longer to find the room where Denna is being kept. She has no place in being there and when she is caught by any of her sisters she will earn herself a lengthy training session that hardly will soon be forgotten. It is ill-advised to even attempt to go and try to catch a glimpse of Denna now, especially in this state of peril, but instead of climbing the stairs back up, the urgent throb of her heartbeat leads her only deeper into the belly of the beast.
Unlike the other cells, the private dungeon is bright, warm and dry and surrounded by open archways. For long minutes Cara lingers in the shadows - not at all prepared for the sight greeting her, listening for sounds of anyone other than the woman she seeks. When the faint ring of swinging chains is the only sound she can hear she moves into the corridor from where she can see her Mistress already from afar. Strung up on her wrists, Denna sways almost imperceptible back and forth over the pit. Bare except for two dark leather strips draped over her chest and waist that cover her modesty by a scanty modicum.
Despite being still veiled in the shadows of the corridor, the blood rushes in her ears loud enough she can't hear the sound of her own footsteps against the granite floor. As she is about to leave the safety of the shadows, Lord Rahl steps into her line of vision and up to Denna, with his back turned to Cara. At the sight of him, she can barely swallow down the gasp of panic at the possibility of him finding her there. The coppery taste of iron fills her mouth, and she has to make an effort to loosen her teeth from the pliant flesh of the inside of her cheek before she chews it into a bloody pulp of raw flesh.
Without making any sound she presses herself into the wall beside her, too terrified to move. Denna's front is turned in her direction and if the Lord Rahl doesn't turn around to leave through this exact archway, he won't ever see her. Cara isn't exactly close, but close enough to make out the tight expression on Denna's face as her master delivers a stinging blow to her flat stomach, leaving an angry mark against pale skin. Her long, wavy tresses move in the breeze, for once released from the confines of its typical braid. Darken Rahl's smooth whispers admonish and recount Denna's failures as his Agiel presses against her thigh next and blue eyes gradually well up with tears, threatening to spill over.
The sweet, thick scent of blood fills Cara's nostrils, but for the first time in years, it doesn't excite her. Her eyes follow the trickle of blood that curls down Denna's thigh, weaving a crimson trail over ashen skin until it drips into the black hole beneath her.
When she looks back up, Darken Rahl still speaks to Denna in low, hushed tones, but she looks past him, bleary-eyed and irritable - straight at Cara. The moment their gazes collide her heart skips a long, painful beat and Cara clutches the Agiel at her side, to keep herself from making a sound.
If Denna can see her in the semi-darkness, she must be way closer than she assumed. It also means that if Lord Rahl were to turn around now, he would certainly be able to spot her too. To her own surprise, the terror she expects to take hold of her at the realization fails to come forth. Instead, it makes room for an unprecedented feeling of startling affection towards her mistress - not unlike a protective instinct she hasn't felt for anyone but Dahlia as long as she can remember.
Lord Rahl's Agiel still wanders steadily over Denna's skin and Cara notices the hard set of her lips - sees her mistress fighting against the torment he inflicts upon her over and over. A pained gasp slips free from cracked lips, and it only serves to increase the hatred and feelings of vengeance to bloom inside Cara's chest. Her gloved fingers find the handle of her Agiel and without her even noticing she pulls it free from its holster at her waist and she takes a step farther into the dungeon.
Piercing blue eyes meet hers again, tears now spilled over, leaving a clear glistening path over dirt smudged cheeks. But for the first time since she stepped foot into the dungeon - or ever really, she can see actual fear in Denna's eyes as the older Mord'Sith takes her in - on the brink of bloodshed and violence in the name of ill-fated loyalty. Denna's gaze is unwavering despite the agonizing dark tendrils of magic spreading over her skin - demanding, ordering and at the very last begging - Cara to let it go. She shakes her head imperceptible as Darken Rahl lowers his gaze and returns his attentions back to the still bleeding wound on her thigh. Cara wonders for a moment if it's because of Lord Rahl, who has yet to detect her - or because Denna is simply unable to incline her head more than that anymore. She holds Denna's gaze across the room until she can't stand it anymore and looks down at her freshly polished boots, gleaming faintly in the semi darkness.
But she turns ultimately - and steps back, allowing the deep shadows of the archway to swallow her whole. As she retreats, she is more focused on the self-loathing she can feel budding inside her for leaving Denna behind with Darken Rahl and his wrath than bestowing any attention to who might see her climbing the stone stairs, two at a time.
But then Denna is never truly far away - or gone, for her screams and the sweet scent of her blood accompany Cara all the way back to her chambers.
---
Later in the evening the great bell sounds, announcing it's time for dinner. Cara is not hungry, but she joins the others in the dining hall anyway, because she has to obey the rules, even when she wants nothing more than to disobey them - even Denna's - and head back into the dungeons.
After all, dinner is a rather quiet affair, and Cara is internally grateful that Dahlia seems to sense her bad mood and unwillingness to take part in any of the ongoing conversations and refocuses her attentions elsewhere. Denna's chair stays glaringly vacant tonight, and deep anguish stirs up within her at the sight of it. It only gets worse each time her gaze strays back to it and she finds it empty still.
Even if it happens relatively frequently that some of the higher ranking Mord’Sith don't attend to the meals, when they have other duties to attend to or leave for a lengthier period of time while out on assignments. Tonight however, it is different than usual. It is practically palatable that something of significance has happened. The air is charged and thick with an uneasy bristling energy.
Cara nibbles at a piece of bread, rather for keeping up appearances than to still her non-existent appetite. In the rows of tables low whispers can be heard, that it is the last night of Denna as First Mistress. Cara's stomach drops and she can practically feel the color drain from her face at the sheer audacity to overhear it spoken out loud in public.
Other whispers tell it is Denna's final night at all and Cara cannot stop but swallow hard against the steadily increasing dread and fear that they might be accurate with that assumption. She leaves the dining hall way too early, and rather abruptly as she can't stand her sisters' company nor the silent whispers that tell of Denna's downfall for any moment longer. Despite knowing sleep won't come to her tonight, she desperately longs for the sanctuary of her own quarters.
---
It is not allowed to leave the door open at night. There are rules for the life in the temple. Everything maintains its place. Everything has its rhythm. Cara leaves her door ajar anyways and in the dead of the night she can hear Denna in the distance. The excruciating screams have changed to sobs of agony. Cara knows it is a weakness when she presses her pillow tight against her chest and waits with baited breath for each scream to resound in the hallway, then each scream assures her that Denna must be still alive.
It is hours later when Cara sits straight up in bed, then suddenly, Denna screams even louder, but only once - it sounds like a death-wail to Cara's ears.
The violence it carries must have woken many of the others nearby.
Afterward, it is eerily quiet and one could hear a needle drop to the floor. With each moment ticking by, the silence becomes thick and heavy, deafening intense listening ears.
It is almost dawn, and the sun is on the verge of giving birth to a new day. Rays of light break through the carved windows, lightening a forgotten place.
As the sun slowly peaks from behind the horizon, Cara's gaze flickers away from the frosted window. Her eyes fall to her nightstand, just in time to bear witness as a final grain of sand drops in her hourglass.
Part V