LOTS - CARA/KAHLAN

For All The Right Reasons

Kristina K

(so_wicked)

Title: For all the right reasons

Fandom: Legend of the Seeker

Pairing: Cara/Kahlan

Rating: PG–13

Summary: Cara looked ready to spit fire, her eyes flashed so dangerously. “It’s not the hair.” She hissed, “Not the stupid hair, Kahlan.”

Disclaimer: I own nothing but this pair of mismatched sox I’m wearing to ward off any jinx that could come my way.

Warning: Unbeta’d, like everything else in my life. [Ooh! That’s a cool line! *writes it down*]

AN: The bookverse, kids, teaches us that Confessors do not cut their own hair because if they do they will suffer lots and lots of pain. Also, the length of a person’s hair represents the level of their class, power and importance in the society. So remember that while reading this story and then you can tell me what it was really all about in the comments.

For All The Right Reasons

Kristina K

“I need your help.”

Cara spun around on her heels and met Kahlan’s eyes. She almost winced at the sight of many small cuts marring the Confessors face, the remnants of the rescuing mission they found themselves in the middle of, early that morning. None of the cuts were deep so they would heal in a few days, but still, it was unnerving. The wizard should have healed those for her. Unconsciously, Cara reached for her neck, remembering her throat being slit not so long ago. She swallowed slowly and then righted herself so Kahlan wouldn’t notice the moment of self–consciousness she just had.

“Yes?” Cara put her hands on her hips and Kahlan took a few more steps closer.

“I need you to cut my hair,” she said.

Cara’s eyes grew big and then her mouth parted as if she wanted to say something but forgot what. She squinted at Kahlan and then shook her head like she didn’t understand.

“I’d do it myself,” Kahlan smiled reassuringly, “But even if I could reach, I’m afraid I had enough pain for one day.” She rubbed her shoulder; it’s where the split beam had hit her, Cara just then realized, and tightened her jaw in aggravation.

“Confessor’s aren’t supposed to cut their own hair.” She said matter–of–factly.

“I know.” Kahlan chuckled, “I’ve learned that the hard way when I was five.” There was a look of complete lack of understanding in Cara’s eyes, almost as if Kahlan had asked her to stab her instead to simply cut her hair. “It got singed in the back, in the fire. And, besides, it’s gotten too long. I need a trim.”

“You’re the Mother Confessor—”

“And if I was at the Confessor’s Palace, in Aydindril,” Kahlan pressed, “the length of my hair would be of utter importance. But I’m in the forest; I haven’t had a proper bath in… Too long to remember. I sleep on the ground. I fight thugs and kill my own food for dinner. And I need you to help me cut my hair.” She blinked sweetly at Cara and, if she didn’t know better, she’d think the Mord’Sith shifted uncomfortably a little. “Please, don’t make me ask Richard or Zedd. I’d like to keep some of my hair.”

This is highly unusual, thought the Mord’Sith. It’s not like she shied away from the task, but rather remembered other instances where she and her Sisters cut the hair of the imprisoned Confessors and therefore stripped them of their dignity and value. It’s what you did as a form of punishment before the real punishment began. It’s not something she wished to do to Kahlan. She pressed her lips in a tight line while fighting the urge to possibly insult the Confessor like she had never been insulted by words before, for asking such a favor, and from a Mord’Sith, for Creator’s sake. Her eyes flashed venom, but after a moment of consideration, Cara exhaled loudly, her voice barely restrained from sounding annoyed. “Very well.” If the Mother Confessor wanted Cara to shorten her hair, she’ll shorten her hair. If Zedd even tries to lecture her over it—

Cara reached for her backpack and unsheathed a big hunting knife.

“Oh no,” Kahlan recoiled jokingly. She pointed at her own backpack, “I have a sewing kit in here; I’ll give you scissors.”

“Oh.” Cara blinked quickly. A smile the Confessor offered shifted her mood from irritated to self–conscious in a second. “Right.”

“Here,” Kahlan gave her a tiny pair of scissors, barely big enough to fit in half of Cara’s palm. The Mord’Sith took them gingerly and then took off her gloves and tossed them aside. They looked at each other for another moment, Cara evidently unsure and Kahlan almost endeared at the sight of Cara’s concern. “I trust you.” She said warmly.

“I still think you’re making a mistake.” Cara mused as Kahlan sat on a tree stump in front of her and she made the first cut. “I mean, you’re a Confessor. It’s your right and duty to wear your hair long in display of your rank and power.”

“I’m aware.”

“People should be able to recognize your importance and stature just by a single glance.”

“Cara…”

“Its length is demonstrating your influence and authority—”

“Are we still talking about me here?” Kahlan asked briskly, and when there was no answer, she continued, “I’m sorry if I’m offending you by wanting my hair cut. I understand the way your hair got cut short was done to shame and disrespected you—”

“It’s not that.” Cara interrupted her angrily. “I just think you’re taking your title lightly, sometimes.” She lifted her chin defiantly even though Kahlan couldn’t see her and snipped off another lock of singed hair. “Like today. You could have been killed in that fire. There was no need for you to run back into the silo. It was just grain. There were plenty of people there who could have done it.”

“I was never in any real danger…”

“The roof collapsed while you were in there. You caught on fire!”

Kahlan jumped up on her feet and turned, “My hair got singed.” Her eyes were dark. “That’s it, Cara! Dear Creator, it’s just hair. It’ll grow out again.”

The Mord’Sith looked at her wordlessly, holding a lock of hair in one and the scissors in the other hand. “It’s just hair,” she finally said, quietly. She made a gesture for Kahlan to turn and sit back down so she could continue what she was doing.

“I’m sorry I yelled.” Kahlan apologized, but there was no answer, only the sound of tiny blades going ‘snip–snip–snip’.

Cara barely said a word during dinner, and before that she snapped at Richard for going out hunting when ‘it was her turn’ and he didn’t even bother to ask her if she wanted to come along if not letting her go alone. And then he came back with only two small rabbits and a pocketful of herbs when she clearly saw some fresh boar tracks nearby. Kahlan pursed her lips when Zedd leaned in to quip in her ear how maybe he should nag at Cara the way she had at Richard now that she’s stepping onto his territory over fussing about the amount of food available for dinner. She looked at the wizard and clasped her hand over his, letting him silently know how that probably wouldn’t be a very good idea.

Kahlan tried a small peace offering by volunteering half of her bread to the sullen Mord’Sith, but a wave of one gloved hand dismissed her before she could even voice her intentions. Kahlan clamped her mouth shut and tightened her jaw.

“I’ll take first watch.” Richard rose from the fire and stretched out, yawning.

“No.” Cara was swiftly on her feet beside him. “I will take the first watch. You can clean up after this feast you have provided us with this evening.”

Richard just smiled, shaking his head, giving Cara the courtesy of repairing the ego he obviously stepped all over by depriving her of the hunt. Or so he thought was the case. Kahlan rising up to her feet only moment later, dumping her spoon and bowl into his hands, swooping past him with a muttered “I’ll talk to her.” told him there was a whole other set of issues swarming the Mord’Sith’s mind. He extended his hand to take the wizard’s bowl only to receive an astounded look that screamed ‘Bags, boy! I haven’t even started properly eating yet.’

“I apologized.” Kahlan’s voice was soft behind Cara’s back. “I’ll do it again if you want me to.” She waited a few moments, but the Mord’Sith remained silent. She took a deeper breath, took a step over the rustling leaves and stopped an arm’s length from where Cara stood with her back straight and shoulders high. “Cara…” Her hand barely touched Cara’s elbow before she pulled it back at the sudden flinch of Cara’s arm.

“I’m supposed to protect you.” Cara said flatly.

“And you do.”

Cara gave Kahlan a look over the shoulder before she turned to face her, “I am to protect you as I am to protect Lord Rahl. With my life. I am to keep you unharmed, safe. Guarded at all times.” She balled both her hands into fists. “But you are so careless, reckless with your life, as a child would be.”

Kahlan seemed incredulous, “And all this because I asked you to cut my hair?”

Cara looked ready to spit fire, her eyes flashed so dangerously. “It’s not the hair.” She hissed, “Not the stupid hair, Kahlan.”

Kahlan took a step closer only to have Cara take one step away. “Then what?!”

Those could have been tears in the Mord’Sith’s eyes, but Kahlan was sure it was just the trick of the dim light. Surely they weren’t tears. Cara’s jaw tightened and then relaxed. She shifted her eyes away from Kahlan’s and cast them downwards.

“Just…” Cara’s voice was a whisper. “Stay away from unnecessary danger. Try not to be as reckless as you were today, in that fire.”

Kahlan saw there was no point in arguing any longer. “Fine,” she nodded. “I apologize. Again.”

“No need for apologies.” Cara’s voice was once again flat. “Just try not to make my job any more difficult than it already is.” She turned her back at Kahlan and focused her eyes on scanning the perimeter. “And go get some sleep. I’ll come wake you up in a few hours to take over the watch.”

“Good night, Cara.” Kahlan smiled, even though she didn’t get a reply from the Mord’Sith.

When the rustling of the leaves ceased and Cara could no longer hear sounds coming from the camp, apart from the silent crackling of fire, she reached inside her leather at the lapel and pulled out a neatly tied up lock of perfect, shiny jet black hair.

The end