LOTS - CARA/DAHLIA

Bruise My Soul

orange_creative

Title: Bruise My Soul

Author: orange_creative

Fandom: Legend of the Seeker

Pairing(s): Cara/Dahlia

Rating: PG–13

Summary: court_ship’s prompt in my summer fic project. Prompt under the cut.

Spoilers: 2x20 “Eternity”

word count: 538

Disclaimer: Copyrights associated with Legend of the Seeker and the Sword of Truth do not belong to me.

Prompt courtesy of court_ship:

Cara/Dahlia: drunk with their Sisters

Bruise My Soul

orange_creative

“Sisters.” Cara’s voice echoed throughout the main receiving chamber where nearly all the Mord–Sith of the temple were gathered, just settled after a week full of hard travel and merciless fighting.

“Tonight,” Cara flicked her wrist, signaling to the broken slaves to haul in the two barrels of wine that had been plundered from the recent mission, “Lord Rahl has rewarded us with a reprieve of duties.”

“Valeria was flawlessly executed and our master is very pleased with us.” Cara laid her gloved hand on the wood of the barrel, smoothing her fingers along the grain seductively, “Celebrate this rare night

thoroughly.”

The barrels were tapped, spilling dark red wine into exquisite crystal glasses. Cara held the first glass high for a moment in acknowledgement before taking a long pull. Her tongue slipped along her lips to catch the errant drops.

* * * * *

The night revelry was well underway. There was little occaison for Mord–Sith to drink for casual inebriation since the talent of breaking a slave required finesse and focus. More slaves were killed or reduced to a blubbering mess of insanity when alcohol stripped away the control and judgement that were so finely honed in the Mord–Sith. Tonight was an uncommon gift because they had left no survivors in Valeria. With none left alive, there were no captives to chain, train, and break.

Dahlia approached Cara after couple hours into the celebration, “The success rests on your skill and leadership.”

The brunette had waited until Cara was alone, away from the sisters who spoke of their own feats and glories. Cara eyes were sharp and focused, but her stern curves were relaxed as the tipsy effect of alcohol took hold. Her aura was a leisure smooth and silky, a predator knowing it had nothing to fear.

“I merely did what I was ordered,” a mischievious smirk belied Cara’s humble words.

“Exactly,” Dahlia exhaled graciously, “We both know why Lord Rahl asked you to lead the mission as soon as you recovered from your… hiatus.”

Cara finished the last inch of her glass and thrust its emptiness toward Dahlia, “Fetch me another.” It was no subtle hint to change the subject. Dahlia was not surprised that Cara wanted to avoid speaking of the reason she had been forced to bedrest for nine months.

Dahlia grabbed the glass, pausing and clutching her fingers along Cara’s. Her voice was low and husky for just the two of them, “Yes, Mistress Cara.” She slid the glass free and turned to strut toward the wine barrels, every part of her body swaying and moving with flirtatious intent.

Cara licked her teeth in anticipation.

As the night wore on, groups of two or more sisters wandered to private rooms, around corners and alcoves. A couple of broken slaves had been brought into the room for general entertainment. Several Mord–Sith slinked off on their own, to tend to their captured pets. The women of red leather cleansed their deeds with pain and pleasure that night.

In the morning, Dahlia stretched purposefully. A satisfying ache flowed through her limbs as she felt each mark and bruise borne of Cara’s torment. She relished in the pain, savoring the relief that Cara chose to find in her.

End