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windemereDisclaimer: I am treading a fine line here, I realize. I cannot write completely show-verse without throwing in some background book-verse that doesn’t clash with canon. I tried and failed. Still, this is show-verse as much as possible, and in all the important ways. And without spoilers, so I’d say it belongs to the writers and producers of Legend of the Seeker first and Terry Goodkind (bless the man) second.
AN: I am exhausted. I have spent the last 5 days in Prague and gotten hardly any sleep and walked about 50km and I just woke up from an afternoon nap. And then this happened. I have no idea how coherent it is, but it is Sunday, so you know.
Kahlan Amnell had forgotten the last time someone touched her in an act of comfort and concern. There is not and never has been a single person in the Midlands who does not fear her power and what she might do to them. They avoid her like she is some sort of plague come to destroy their lives. She knows it does not work that way.
In the years before Darken Rahl uncovered the Boxes and sent the world to the edge by putting them into play, she had lived a life that could only be characterized as lonely. Her sister was her only light in the darkness that was her existence. Her only source of comfort came from protecting her from that which they were born to do. Denee had never been the strong one; always suffered greatly during and after a Confession, and she would sometimes beg Kahlan on her knees to go in her place. Kahlan always went, because she would have done anything to spare her sister the pain of it all. It had been many years since Kahlan had lost track of the number of people she had Confessed.
But she still remembered every single one who had been innocent. It did not happen often, but when it did the agony of overpowering them would haunt her for days afterwards. To know that she had destroyed their lives in an effort to spare them an execution and at their own urging was no comfort. She would never forget how they pleaded at her feet, begging her to take them, to save them. She was never sure that Confession was better. It could only ever be a half life.
When the wizards had charged her with the duty of finding the Old One and the Seeker she had been honoured and terrified in equal measure. She understood full well the importance of the task and knew beyond a doubt that the fate of three lands rested on her shoulders. Should she fail the world would fall. She had argued with Denee the entire way to the west Boundary, begging her to remain behind, to leave this task to her. To save herself. But Denee would no more abandon her then Kahlan would have refused to take a Confession in her place. They had been so close. The quad had only caught up with them a day out from the border. Kahlan had stupidly allowed herself to think they would make it unopposed. So close and yet too far away.
Denee was not the first person Kahlan had lost. Not even the first fellow Confessor. She had been taught to deal with grief – to lock it away inside herself and continue on, because Confessors did not show weakness. They did not bow down to loss and let it consume them. They were above that. Kahlan knew her duty was more important than her sister. It was more important even then herself and if she died in the attempt to fulfil it then so be it. But of the two of them, she wished the arrow at hit her instead. Denee had deserved to live more than anyone, because she had never really had the chance.
Kahlan had welcomed the darkness of the Boundary crossing. Even with Shar to guide her way the underworld pressed down towards her, beaconing her closer, pulling her in. Faces stared out at her from the green gloom, many of whom she recognized. They called her by name and reached to pull her in to join them. With tears streaming so fast she could barely see she kept her eyes ahead, clutching Shar so tightly the night wisp shutter with the strength of it. When she had emerged on the other side in to sunlight, she felt like she had never experienced such light in her life. The relief of it nearly brought her to her knees. She had wanted nothing more than to lie in the sun and remember its warmth. But Shar had whispered of the men behind her, and so she had run, crossing meadows and dancing through the trees, desperate to find a place that she might have a chance to fight them. But she knew the truth, that if she was caught, one of them would kill her and take the Book. And then it would all have been in vain.
The cliff had caught her by surprise, but it had been a blessing because they could only approach her from one side. The man that had jumped in blindly to rescue her had caught her completely off guard. In the Midlands, no one would have stepped in to save her. This land was more different then she had imagined.
But when he had touched her, fire had sparked through her veins. It was the kind of touch only Denee had ever given her. A touch of comfort; of caring; of friendship. She had flinched from the surprise and from the wonder. And the way he looked at her, not knowing her for what she was. No one in her whole life had ever looked at Kahlan as anything other than a Confessor.
Afterwards she would wonder for days if she had loved him from that moment. And if it was just because he had looked at her with kindness and not with fear. She had fallen so easily.
It had seemed all too straightforward to find the Wizard and terrifyingly simply to discover that her first encounter with a Westlander had in fact been the Seeker. It was all too perfect for her liking. But it had certainly made things quicker. It had not made things easier. She had never met anyone as ignorant of everything as Richard was. It was a constant frustration to discover that something she took for granted was completely outside his knowledge and had to be painstakingly explained. It was like teaching a child sometimes, and she had neither the patience nor the time for it. And the Wizard, a man she had heard of her whole life, the most powerful Wizard still living, was utterly useless. She was not used to the loss of control. She was not used to having to go along with others and follow their lead. She was a Confessor. They were none above her. She was the representation of ultimate power. More than a queen, it had once been said of her calling. Now she was the tag-along to a pair she feared would not live to see the winter solstice, much less do anything to accomplish the task of ridding the world of Darken Rahl.
It had taken her days, as they travelled haphazardly from town to town across the lower Midlands to become comfortable with her new role in life. She was someone else’s protector now. Her life was for the first time worth less than another’s. It filled her with a purpose she had always lacked. And she began to see herself as Richard saw her: a woman of intelligence and fortitude who was so much more then what she was born to. For the first time in her life, she realized she could be more than just a Confessor. For the first time in her life, she could be loved for simply who she was and by the power of free will.
It made it all the harder that it was the one thing she could never have.
AN: I am exhausted. I have spent the last 5 days in Prague and gotten hardly any sleep and walked about 50km and I just woke up from an afternoon nap. And then this happened. I have no idea how coherent it is, but it is Sunday, so you know.
Kahlan Amnell had forgotten the last time someone touched her in an act of comfort and concern. There is not and never has been a single person in the Midlands who does not fear her power and what she might do to them. They avoid her like she is some sort of plague come to destroy their lives. She knows it does not work that way.
In the years before Darken Rahl uncovered the Boxes and sent the world to the edge by putting them into play, she had lived a life that could only be characterized as lonely. Her sister was her only light in the darkness that was her existence. Her only source of comfort came from protecting her from that which they were born to do. Denee had never been the strong one; always suffered greatly during and after a Confession, and she would sometimes beg Kahlan on her knees to go in her place. Kahlan always went, because she would have done anything to spare her sister the pain of it all. It had been many years since Kahlan had lost track of the number of people she had Confessed.
But she still remembered every single one who had been innocent. It did not happen often, but when it did the agony of overpowering them would haunt her for days afterwards. To know that she had destroyed their lives in an effort to spare them an execution and at their own urging was no comfort. She would never forget how they pleaded at her feet, begging her to take them, to save them. She was never sure that Confession was better. It could only ever be a half life.
When the wizards had charged her with the duty of finding the Old One and the Seeker she had been honoured and terrified in equal measure. She understood full well the importance of the task and knew beyond a doubt that the fate of three lands rested on her shoulders. Should she fail the world would fall. She had argued with Denee the entire way to the west Boundary, begging her to remain behind, to leave this task to her. To save herself. But Denee would no more abandon her then Kahlan would have refused to take a Confession in her place. They had been so close. The quad had only caught up with them a day out from the border. Kahlan had stupidly allowed herself to think they would make it unopposed. So close and yet too far away.
Denee was not the first person Kahlan had lost. Not even the first fellow Confessor. She had been taught to deal with grief – to lock it away inside herself and continue on, because Confessors did not show weakness. They did not bow down to loss and let it consume them. They were above that. Kahlan knew her duty was more important than her sister. It was more important even then herself and if she died in the attempt to fulfil it then so be it. But of the two of them, she wished the arrow at hit her instead. Denee had deserved to live more than anyone, because she had never really had the chance.
Kahlan had welcomed the darkness of the Boundary crossing. Even with Shar to guide her way the underworld pressed down towards her, beaconing her closer, pulling her in. Faces stared out at her from the green gloom, many of whom she recognized. They called her by name and reached to pull her in to join them. With tears streaming so fast she could barely see she kept her eyes ahead, clutching Shar so tightly the night wisp shutter with the strength of it. When she had emerged on the other side in to sunlight, she felt like she had never experienced such light in her life. The relief of it nearly brought her to her knees. She had wanted nothing more than to lie in the sun and remember its warmth. But Shar had whispered of the men behind her, and so she had run, crossing meadows and dancing through the trees, desperate to find a place that she might have a chance to fight them. But she knew the truth, that if she was caught, one of them would kill her and take the Book. And then it would all have been in vain.
The cliff had caught her by surprise, but it had been a blessing because they could only approach her from one side. The man that had jumped in blindly to rescue her had caught her completely off guard. In the Midlands, no one would have stepped in to save her. This land was more different then she had imagined.
But when he had touched her, fire had sparked through her veins. It was the kind of touch only Denee had ever given her. A touch of comfort; of caring; of friendship. She had flinched from the surprise and from the wonder. And the way he looked at her, not knowing her for what she was. No one in her whole life had ever looked at Kahlan as anything other than a Confessor.
Afterwards she would wonder for days if she had loved him from that moment. And if it was just because he had looked at her with kindness and not with fear. She had fallen so easily.
It had seemed all too straightforward to find the Wizard and terrifyingly simply to discover that her first encounter with a Westlander had in fact been the Seeker. It was all too perfect for her liking. But it had certainly made things quicker. It had not made things easier. She had never met anyone as ignorant of everything as Richard was. It was a constant frustration to discover that something she took for granted was completely outside his knowledge and had to be painstakingly explained. It was like teaching a child sometimes, and she had neither the patience nor the time for it. And the Wizard, a man she had heard of her whole life, the most powerful Wizard still living, was utterly useless. She was not used to the loss of control. She was not used to having to go along with others and follow their lead. She was a Confessor. They were none above her. She was the representation of ultimate power. More than a queen, it had once been said of her calling. Now she was the tag-along to a pair she feared would not live to see the winter solstice, much less do anything to accomplish the task of ridding the world of Darken Rahl.
It had taken her days, as they travelled haphazardly from town to town across the lower Midlands to become comfortable with her new role in life. She was someone else’s protector now. Her life was for the first time worth less than another’s. It filled her with a purpose she had always lacked. And she began to see herself as Richard saw her: a woman of intelligence and fortitude who was so much more then what she was born to. For the first time in her life, she realized she could be more than just a Confessor. For the first time in her life, she could be loved for simply who she was and by the power of free will.
It made it all the harder that it was the one thing she could never have.
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Date: 2009-04-05 04:17 pm (UTC)She is so awesome, but the whole Confessor thing is SO CREEPY. Well done. Don't forget to cross-post to