Title: Hide your face so the world will never find you (Part 8)
Fandom: Legend of the Seeker
Rating: R (dark themes)
Characters: Kahlan, Darken Rahl, Garen
Pairings: Kahlan/Darken Rahl
Summary: Family isn't easy, especially when it's just a facade.
Warning/Notes: Sudden character death. Beta'd by
confessorlove Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6. Part 7.
She was with child. Again. Kahlan didn't know whether to laugh or to cry. For a few weeks she wouldn't admit it to herself, but when she lost her breakfast in the hall outside the Council Chamber, she gritted her teeth and accepted it.
"Do you wish to shed the child?" the midwife asked in a hushed tone, cracking the knuckles in her fingers.
Darken would never know if she did. Kahlan didn't have to bear another child. She had only needed one in the first place, and they brought more chaos to a life that was hard by nature. Fingers stroking nervously over her stomach, she chewed on the inside of her lip. The midwife waited patiently.
"No," Kahlan finally said. "I will keep it." It was the most selfish decision she'd ever made, even including the conception night. I just want to hold another daughter and forget that I have fifty more years of games and lies.
When she found him, Darken Rahl was standing alone on the balcony, the sunset staining his dark robes with deep crimson hue. The city lay peaceful below, winding down the bluff in geometric streets. Their realm. Kahlan walked to stand beside him, their sleeves not quite close enough to brush together. He didn't acknowledge her presence; she didn't look to him. They hadn't quite met each other's eyes in a month, not since she'd fallen asleep in his arms too spent to think of the pleasure they'd just shared.
"Do you have complaints?" he asked in a desert-dry tone, grip tightening visibly over the rim of the balcony.
"I'm with child."
A moment, and then he laughed, short and barely audible.
The warm breeze blew her hair over her shoulder, and Kahlan twisted her fingers in it, not sure what she should say next.
"The children will be pleased," he finally said.
He didn't say that he would share that point of view. But she supposed if he didn't, he would have said something. "I suppose you have it now. The family you wanted. I hope the facsimile satisfies you." Lips tight, she turned slightly to leave.
Darken caught her arm, fingers slipping from forearm to wrist. He was close, face inches from hers, and she didn't dare to look up. "I'm not ready for you to leave, Kahlan," he murmured. "Do you have nothing else to say on this?"
"There's nothing else to say, my lord." The words came out in almost a whisper. A little jerk of her wrist and his touch was no longer on her, but her heart had still picked up its pace.
"Darken."
She sucked in a breath, glancing up before she could help herself. He was too close, eyes too piercing.
"My name is Darken. I wish you to always use it." Expression carefully unreadable, he lifted his fingers to brush her jawline.
Kahlan swallowed harshly, wishing she could just flinch away from the touch. His fascination with her drove her towards insanity, but not in the way she'd thought. So many years since she'd seen anyone else she'd cared for, and so many years before that since she'd had someone other than her sister who was unafraid to touch her. But he had tortured people with those hands. He'd cradled their children as well, but Kahlan couldn't forget everything else. How could she accept such gentleness?
"I'm tired, Darken," she whispered when he looked like he might kiss her.
It stopped him, even if he knew better than to believe such words. But as always, he never said it aloud. More lies. She needed to kiss her children goodnight to feel right again. To feel like herself.
As she walked away, hands at her sides, the rogue thought broke into her mind that she never had figured out who herself was.
-
It wasn't a game anymore. Never had a lie eaten at his calm as that one had, the lie that he didn't care about any of this. Whether in his throneroom setting policy, in the nursery watching his children play at house and war, in his bedchamber avoiding everything important with his wife, or in the Mord'Sith temple surrounded by the screams of agiels and recruits and miscreants—wherever and whenever he was, D'Hara came first, family came second, but Kahlan came third. And he wasn't even sure that she wasn't merely merged with family now.
Marriage is for fools, his father had sneered at him once. So much of his father he'd taken to heart without planning to. For years he'd lived the legacy of a man more broken than Darken could ever be, and he'd told himself he'd chosen his own path. But he hadn't. Panis would have been somewhat proud, if he'd had the capacity for true emotion. Darken would have craved and hated to be the recipient of the emotion.
And yet he was not his father. There was at least that much. His father would never have married such a woman, even as part of a strategy and for revenge, but his father would also have never looked on her as more than an object. Caring for her? It would never have happened.
Darken cared too much for Kahlan. Her words, her looks, her touches, her thoughts, all of them held too large a portion of his focus. He wanted to know her inside out and backwards, physically and emotionally and everything else. There was no other word for it but obsession, he told himself. Whatever she stood for, and he couldn't say what anymore, he needed it.
He needed to win this game that wasn't a game.
Progress came too slowly. Yes, it mattered to him that she could say his name without coldness. Yes, it mattered to him that she no longer flinched when he gave her a chaste kiss. But how long had it taken? Nearly six years?
Darken was a patient man, but he would enjoy victory much more if he gained it during his prime than in fifteen years when it was gone.
Kahlan refused to be forced in any way, though. Her stubbornness was strong enough to withstand the fires of the Underworld itself, he thought. Once he'd seen her as the most delicious challenge. But the more he knew her, the more he valued what she represented in his life, the more he didn't want her to be a challenge.
Acquiescing to her every request helped a little, though not enough. There was too much she would not let him help with.This pregnancy seemed rougher on her than the last two, although perhaps that was due only to the stress. Arianna and Irene demanded far more attention than a Mother Confessor (or a Lord Rahl) truly had to spare, and acted out if they didn't receive it. Arianna would cause havoc, and Irene would sulk. It was enough to boil Darken's blood sometimes, but the fact that they were his children made it ironic on some level.
Two young children were wearing enough, but when added to a pregnancy that seemed to make Kahlan ill half the day, it became unacceptable. Some days, Darken would have gladly ordered Kahlan to bed, and had servants take care of all her duties. It was an annoyance to him that he knew that, if he did order it, she would resent it beyond any crimes he had actually done to her.
"Let me go!" Arianna wailed, flailing as Kahlan hefted her towards her bed. A stray kick hit the side of Kahlan's growing abdomen and she winced.
"Do not hit your mother," Darken said in a sudden harsh tone, walking into the nursery and immediately removing Arianna from Kahlan's arms.
His eldest daughter was not known for her compliance, but she held her tongue with wide eyes now. Darken had sworn once that Kahlan would know no abuse from him; he would not allow even the hint of it from his offspring either. Firmly setting Arianna in her bed, he gave her a look until she wilted and whispered, "Sorry dada."
"Don't do it again," he said in a lower but softer voice. He stroked her hair and she relaxed.
When he rose, Kahlan was watching him with tortured eyes. Darken no longer liked to see that kind of conflict and pain, not in her. His taste for such darkness was growing more specified, if not lessening entirely. She had her hand over her belly, rubbing, as if to blame the pain on physical means.
"Thank you, Darken," she said quietly when he returned from Arianna's bedside. She almost met his eyes when she said it. "You are a good father."
It was not the first time she'd said those words. No matter how many times he heard them, they still gave him the same twisted and raw sensation deep inside. There were no answering words. "I will be retiring early tonight," he informed her. "I wished to say goodnight, in case I am asleep when you come to bed."
Kahlan nodded and said her quiet, emotionless goodnight. He gave her a brief kiss to the cheek.
Darkness, but not slumber, enveloped him by the time she slipped into bed. He could recognize her by her walk, by the way the bed shifted when she sat on it. The mattress creaked as she lay on her side away from him, and he knew if he opened his eyes he'd see one hand cradling her growing stomach.
It was only after she too was asleep that somehow his mind could stop analyzing and wondering, and he could join her.
-
With this pregnancy came nightmares for the first time in years.
Night after night, Kahlan woke with beads of sweat running down her face and neck, heart fluttering in terror. Dreams of running, of being chased, of being lost and surrounded by enemies. Faces she'd known blended with monsters in the dreams, but even after she woke she couldn't shake them. Lying flat, not wanting to wake her husband, she'd place a hand over her heart and force her breathing to steady.
It would often be hours before she could sleep again. Sometimes, if the nightmares came in early morning, she rose and started the day early. Her daughters never awoke before the sun, but she visited them anyway, saying prayers to the good spirits over their innocent heads.
"You give them too much attention."
Kahlan turned sharply on hearing the low voice. Mistress Garen stood by the other cradle, wearing her leathers again. Her child had been born on a stormy night, a son that Darken had named Joseph. The Mord'Sith was proud of what she'd given her Lord, especially since he received royal quality of care.
Kahlan didn't tell Garen that it was her grudging request that the bastard be cared for. No child should suffer want, and the boy had not asked for such a father or mother. It didn't mean, though, that Kahlan liked either the Mord'Sith or what her son represented. "They are my children, and they are the future of the country you serve."
"Lord Rahl will not give over his throne to a Confessor when there is a strong son at hand," Garen scoffed, arms crossed beneath her breasts.
It was not the first time she'd said it. Kahlan gritted her teeth and laid a hand over the swell of her belly. "That is not for you to decide."
The Mord'Sith walked past her, letting her keen gaze sweep Kahlan up and down. "I can see why he married you in the first place, but I don't know why he keeps you. You and your children cause more trouble than joy."
"Our children," Kahlan said tightly. The fact did not make her proud, but it was necessary. Richard needed a Confessor to be there when he arrived in the future.
Garen said no more, but Kahlan knew she hadn't won a point with the Mord'Sith. She hadn't denied Garen's accusations.
It didn't matter, though. She knew that Darken had no plans yet on getting rid of her. She dared to still reject his attention, even as nightmares continued to wreck her sleep. There were days she bribed the servants to keep them from informing Darken that she'd fallen asleep at her desk; there was no one's pity and concern she wanted less.
Every time his fingertips brushed along her jaw in a random gesture, it threatened her resolve to never forgive him. Every time he sat with their children, nodding gravely as they told him of their games of war and politics, it attacked her notion that he did nothing truly worthy. Every time his lips met hers in a chaste kiss, something she allowed for the sake of the marriage she'd promised, it crossed her mind that she had no reason to make life miserable for herself. What was moral integrity in the face of her drudging life? With each passing year, the temptation grew.
She would never let her guard down again. Never. Even if Arianna helped Richard erase this legacy completely, she would not let it say even for a moment that the Mother Confessor had given in.
Kahlan had always been afraid that forsaking goodness would feel satisfying. Ignorance was bliss, and stubbornness was her weapon to protect that bliss.
But life had more weapons than she.
Difficult pregnancy led to difficult birth. She didn't know how many times she screamed over the course of the labor. Hours blended with days, and even Darken was at her side by the end. She'd given him a glare with all her energy when he tried to sit next to her, hissing that she hadn't invited him in and she didn't want anyone with her. It was a lie—she would have wanted a loved one. But for some reason she spared him the full truth.
He was there anyway, pacing with his finger on his lower lip, his stance warning everyone in attendance that he would not accept failure.
Kahlan gritted her teeth to hold back another scream as the midwife called, "Almost there!" One more push and it was done. Thank the Creator. She fell back against the pillows, limbs shaking, and waited for the wail of her newborn girl. Morgan, they'd chosen as a name. Morgan the unexpected child.
The wail didn't come. Nor any other sound. The room nearly emanated silence, other than Kahlan's exhausted heavy breathing. "What is it?" she asked, confused.
No answer. The midwife didn't even look up from where she knelt between Kahlan's legs. From the corner of her eye, Kahlan saw that Darken was frozen still, and all the other servants had backed away. Worry clenched around Kahlan's heart in a tight fist, and she sat back up again, ignoring her weariness. "What is it?" she demanded.
Finally the midwife's head rose, cheeks drained of color. "The child is dead."
Kahlan's world stopped spinning.
"Let me see," Darken demanded in a strangled voice. Kahlan couldn't see clearly, her eyesight suddenly blurred, as the midwife held a limp bundle up to Lord Rahl. Darken's devastation needed no special eyesight to see; the way he stepped back as if struck drove a dagger into Kahlan's chest.
"No," she whispered to no one, feeling a sudden horror start to rip at her.
"I'm sorry...she was likely dead before the birth began," the midwife said, to no one in particular. "I will clean up the afterbirth and then leave." She hurried to the bed to start her work, as if afraid she would be punished as soon as they overcame their shock.
An anguished moan left Kahlan's throat before she realized that it was grief tightening it. She stared towards the lifeless bundle that should have been her daughter, and it was like staring at a piece of herself, amputated without reason. The instant pain was agonizing, and she let out another cry. Dead. Her daughter was dead. Gone, before she'd even seen her face or touched her. Kahlan wished in that moment that it was she who was lying there dead instead, as she cried out again in grief, unable to hold it back.
She failed to notice that Darken didn't leave, instead turning to face the corner as if to hide from the world. Nothing mattered but her and the child she could no longer have. Even by the time the midwife had cleaned everything up, Kahlan was still rocking forward, hands clenched with the pain of sudden grief. Her eyes stung, but the tears wouldn't come. Everything hurt. Everything.
Then there was a hand on her shoulder, and she let out another cry of anguish before realizing that it was Darken. He was sitting next to her, touching her, and she wasn't sure if he was offering or taking comfort.
"Don't touch me!" she ordered regardless, voice trembling. He ignored her, pulling her into an embrace, and it wasn't soft but tight and almost demanding. She hit him, her breaths coming as sobs of pain, but he didn't let go. "Leave me alone," she begged, closing her eyes and seeing only the image of her child that was now no longer to be. It was worst than all her nightmares combined, and oh Creator how it hurt.
"Don't speak," he said in a voice harsh with emotion. Kahlan felt the tremor in his hold of her, an urgency in the way he pressed her to his chest. Their child. Even as grief overtook her brain, the facts wouldn't escape her.
Kahlan didn't have the strength right now. In so many ways she didn't have it.
They were alone, all evidence of death removed. Darken sat on the bed with her and held her tightly to him as if clinging to his one constant. Heartbroken, exhausted, Kahlan stopped struggling. A tear dropped from her eye to his chest. She found herself weeping against him, then, and didn't know if she would ever stop.
Fandom: Legend of the Seeker
Rating: R (dark themes)
Characters: Kahlan, Darken Rahl, Garen
Pairings: Kahlan/Darken Rahl
Summary: Family isn't easy, especially when it's just a facade.
Warning/Notes: Sudden character death. Beta'd by
confessorlove Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6. Part 7.She was with child. Again. Kahlan didn't know whether to laugh or to cry. For a few weeks she wouldn't admit it to herself, but when she lost her breakfast in the hall outside the Council Chamber, she gritted her teeth and accepted it.
"Do you wish to shed the child?" the midwife asked in a hushed tone, cracking the knuckles in her fingers.
Darken would never know if she did. Kahlan didn't have to bear another child. She had only needed one in the first place, and they brought more chaos to a life that was hard by nature. Fingers stroking nervously over her stomach, she chewed on the inside of her lip. The midwife waited patiently.
"No," Kahlan finally said. "I will keep it." It was the most selfish decision she'd ever made, even including the conception night. I just want to hold another daughter and forget that I have fifty more years of games and lies.
When she found him, Darken Rahl was standing alone on the balcony, the sunset staining his dark robes with deep crimson hue. The city lay peaceful below, winding down the bluff in geometric streets. Their realm. Kahlan walked to stand beside him, their sleeves not quite close enough to brush together. He didn't acknowledge her presence; she didn't look to him. They hadn't quite met each other's eyes in a month, not since she'd fallen asleep in his arms too spent to think of the pleasure they'd just shared.
"Do you have complaints?" he asked in a desert-dry tone, grip tightening visibly over the rim of the balcony.
"I'm with child."
A moment, and then he laughed, short and barely audible.
The warm breeze blew her hair over her shoulder, and Kahlan twisted her fingers in it, not sure what she should say next.
"The children will be pleased," he finally said.
He didn't say that he would share that point of view. But she supposed if he didn't, he would have said something. "I suppose you have it now. The family you wanted. I hope the facsimile satisfies you." Lips tight, she turned slightly to leave.
Darken caught her arm, fingers slipping from forearm to wrist. He was close, face inches from hers, and she didn't dare to look up. "I'm not ready for you to leave, Kahlan," he murmured. "Do you have nothing else to say on this?"
"There's nothing else to say, my lord." The words came out in almost a whisper. A little jerk of her wrist and his touch was no longer on her, but her heart had still picked up its pace.
"Darken."
She sucked in a breath, glancing up before she could help herself. He was too close, eyes too piercing.
"My name is Darken. I wish you to always use it." Expression carefully unreadable, he lifted his fingers to brush her jawline.
Kahlan swallowed harshly, wishing she could just flinch away from the touch. His fascination with her drove her towards insanity, but not in the way she'd thought. So many years since she'd seen anyone else she'd cared for, and so many years before that since she'd had someone other than her sister who was unafraid to touch her. But he had tortured people with those hands. He'd cradled their children as well, but Kahlan couldn't forget everything else. How could she accept such gentleness?
"I'm tired, Darken," she whispered when he looked like he might kiss her.
It stopped him, even if he knew better than to believe such words. But as always, he never said it aloud. More lies. She needed to kiss her children goodnight to feel right again. To feel like herself.
As she walked away, hands at her sides, the rogue thought broke into her mind that she never had figured out who herself was.
-
It wasn't a game anymore. Never had a lie eaten at his calm as that one had, the lie that he didn't care about any of this. Whether in his throneroom setting policy, in the nursery watching his children play at house and war, in his bedchamber avoiding everything important with his wife, or in the Mord'Sith temple surrounded by the screams of agiels and recruits and miscreants—wherever and whenever he was, D'Hara came first, family came second, but Kahlan came third. And he wasn't even sure that she wasn't merely merged with family now.
Marriage is for fools, his father had sneered at him once. So much of his father he'd taken to heart without planning to. For years he'd lived the legacy of a man more broken than Darken could ever be, and he'd told himself he'd chosen his own path. But he hadn't. Panis would have been somewhat proud, if he'd had the capacity for true emotion. Darken would have craved and hated to be the recipient of the emotion.
And yet he was not his father. There was at least that much. His father would never have married such a woman, even as part of a strategy and for revenge, but his father would also have never looked on her as more than an object. Caring for her? It would never have happened.
Darken cared too much for Kahlan. Her words, her looks, her touches, her thoughts, all of them held too large a portion of his focus. He wanted to know her inside out and backwards, physically and emotionally and everything else. There was no other word for it but obsession, he told himself. Whatever she stood for, and he couldn't say what anymore, he needed it.
He needed to win this game that wasn't a game.
Progress came too slowly. Yes, it mattered to him that she could say his name without coldness. Yes, it mattered to him that she no longer flinched when he gave her a chaste kiss. But how long had it taken? Nearly six years?
Darken was a patient man, but he would enjoy victory much more if he gained it during his prime than in fifteen years when it was gone.
Kahlan refused to be forced in any way, though. Her stubbornness was strong enough to withstand the fires of the Underworld itself, he thought. Once he'd seen her as the most delicious challenge. But the more he knew her, the more he valued what she represented in his life, the more he didn't want her to be a challenge.
Acquiescing to her every request helped a little, though not enough. There was too much she would not let him help with.This pregnancy seemed rougher on her than the last two, although perhaps that was due only to the stress. Arianna and Irene demanded far more attention than a Mother Confessor (or a Lord Rahl) truly had to spare, and acted out if they didn't receive it. Arianna would cause havoc, and Irene would sulk. It was enough to boil Darken's blood sometimes, but the fact that they were his children made it ironic on some level.
Two young children were wearing enough, but when added to a pregnancy that seemed to make Kahlan ill half the day, it became unacceptable. Some days, Darken would have gladly ordered Kahlan to bed, and had servants take care of all her duties. It was an annoyance to him that he knew that, if he did order it, she would resent it beyond any crimes he had actually done to her.
"Let me go!" Arianna wailed, flailing as Kahlan hefted her towards her bed. A stray kick hit the side of Kahlan's growing abdomen and she winced.
"Do not hit your mother," Darken said in a sudden harsh tone, walking into the nursery and immediately removing Arianna from Kahlan's arms.
His eldest daughter was not known for her compliance, but she held her tongue with wide eyes now. Darken had sworn once that Kahlan would know no abuse from him; he would not allow even the hint of it from his offspring either. Firmly setting Arianna in her bed, he gave her a look until she wilted and whispered, "Sorry dada."
"Don't do it again," he said in a lower but softer voice. He stroked her hair and she relaxed.
When he rose, Kahlan was watching him with tortured eyes. Darken no longer liked to see that kind of conflict and pain, not in her. His taste for such darkness was growing more specified, if not lessening entirely. She had her hand over her belly, rubbing, as if to blame the pain on physical means.
"Thank you, Darken," she said quietly when he returned from Arianna's bedside. She almost met his eyes when she said it. "You are a good father."
It was not the first time she'd said those words. No matter how many times he heard them, they still gave him the same twisted and raw sensation deep inside. There were no answering words. "I will be retiring early tonight," he informed her. "I wished to say goodnight, in case I am asleep when you come to bed."
Kahlan nodded and said her quiet, emotionless goodnight. He gave her a brief kiss to the cheek.
Darkness, but not slumber, enveloped him by the time she slipped into bed. He could recognize her by her walk, by the way the bed shifted when she sat on it. The mattress creaked as she lay on her side away from him, and he knew if he opened his eyes he'd see one hand cradling her growing stomach.
It was only after she too was asleep that somehow his mind could stop analyzing and wondering, and he could join her.
-
With this pregnancy came nightmares for the first time in years.
Night after night, Kahlan woke with beads of sweat running down her face and neck, heart fluttering in terror. Dreams of running, of being chased, of being lost and surrounded by enemies. Faces she'd known blended with monsters in the dreams, but even after she woke she couldn't shake them. Lying flat, not wanting to wake her husband, she'd place a hand over her heart and force her breathing to steady.
It would often be hours before she could sleep again. Sometimes, if the nightmares came in early morning, she rose and started the day early. Her daughters never awoke before the sun, but she visited them anyway, saying prayers to the good spirits over their innocent heads.
"You give them too much attention."
Kahlan turned sharply on hearing the low voice. Mistress Garen stood by the other cradle, wearing her leathers again. Her child had been born on a stormy night, a son that Darken had named Joseph. The Mord'Sith was proud of what she'd given her Lord, especially since he received royal quality of care.
Kahlan didn't tell Garen that it was her grudging request that the bastard be cared for. No child should suffer want, and the boy had not asked for such a father or mother. It didn't mean, though, that Kahlan liked either the Mord'Sith or what her son represented. "They are my children, and they are the future of the country you serve."
"Lord Rahl will not give over his throne to a Confessor when there is a strong son at hand," Garen scoffed, arms crossed beneath her breasts.
It was not the first time she'd said it. Kahlan gritted her teeth and laid a hand over the swell of her belly. "That is not for you to decide."
The Mord'Sith walked past her, letting her keen gaze sweep Kahlan up and down. "I can see why he married you in the first place, but I don't know why he keeps you. You and your children cause more trouble than joy."
"Our children," Kahlan said tightly. The fact did not make her proud, but it was necessary. Richard needed a Confessor to be there when he arrived in the future.
Garen said no more, but Kahlan knew she hadn't won a point with the Mord'Sith. She hadn't denied Garen's accusations.
It didn't matter, though. She knew that Darken had no plans yet on getting rid of her. She dared to still reject his attention, even as nightmares continued to wreck her sleep. There were days she bribed the servants to keep them from informing Darken that she'd fallen asleep at her desk; there was no one's pity and concern she wanted less.
Every time his fingertips brushed along her jaw in a random gesture, it threatened her resolve to never forgive him. Every time he sat with their children, nodding gravely as they told him of their games of war and politics, it attacked her notion that he did nothing truly worthy. Every time his lips met hers in a chaste kiss, something she allowed for the sake of the marriage she'd promised, it crossed her mind that she had no reason to make life miserable for herself. What was moral integrity in the face of her drudging life? With each passing year, the temptation grew.
She would never let her guard down again. Never. Even if Arianna helped Richard erase this legacy completely, she would not let it say even for a moment that the Mother Confessor had given in.
Kahlan had always been afraid that forsaking goodness would feel satisfying. Ignorance was bliss, and stubbornness was her weapon to protect that bliss.
But life had more weapons than she.
Difficult pregnancy led to difficult birth. She didn't know how many times she screamed over the course of the labor. Hours blended with days, and even Darken was at her side by the end. She'd given him a glare with all her energy when he tried to sit next to her, hissing that she hadn't invited him in and she didn't want anyone with her. It was a lie—she would have wanted a loved one. But for some reason she spared him the full truth.
He was there anyway, pacing with his finger on his lower lip, his stance warning everyone in attendance that he would not accept failure.
Kahlan gritted her teeth to hold back another scream as the midwife called, "Almost there!" One more push and it was done. Thank the Creator. She fell back against the pillows, limbs shaking, and waited for the wail of her newborn girl. Morgan, they'd chosen as a name. Morgan the unexpected child.
The wail didn't come. Nor any other sound. The room nearly emanated silence, other than Kahlan's exhausted heavy breathing. "What is it?" she asked, confused.
No answer. The midwife didn't even look up from where she knelt between Kahlan's legs. From the corner of her eye, Kahlan saw that Darken was frozen still, and all the other servants had backed away. Worry clenched around Kahlan's heart in a tight fist, and she sat back up again, ignoring her weariness. "What is it?" she demanded.
Finally the midwife's head rose, cheeks drained of color. "The child is dead."
Kahlan's world stopped spinning.
"Let me see," Darken demanded in a strangled voice. Kahlan couldn't see clearly, her eyesight suddenly blurred, as the midwife held a limp bundle up to Lord Rahl. Darken's devastation needed no special eyesight to see; the way he stepped back as if struck drove a dagger into Kahlan's chest.
"No," she whispered to no one, feeling a sudden horror start to rip at her.
"I'm sorry...she was likely dead before the birth began," the midwife said, to no one in particular. "I will clean up the afterbirth and then leave." She hurried to the bed to start her work, as if afraid she would be punished as soon as they overcame their shock.
An anguished moan left Kahlan's throat before she realized that it was grief tightening it. She stared towards the lifeless bundle that should have been her daughter, and it was like staring at a piece of herself, amputated without reason. The instant pain was agonizing, and she let out another cry. Dead. Her daughter was dead. Gone, before she'd even seen her face or touched her. Kahlan wished in that moment that it was she who was lying there dead instead, as she cried out again in grief, unable to hold it back.
She failed to notice that Darken didn't leave, instead turning to face the corner as if to hide from the world. Nothing mattered but her and the child she could no longer have. Even by the time the midwife had cleaned everything up, Kahlan was still rocking forward, hands clenched with the pain of sudden grief. Her eyes stung, but the tears wouldn't come. Everything hurt. Everything.
Then there was a hand on her shoulder, and she let out another cry of anguish before realizing that it was Darken. He was sitting next to her, touching her, and she wasn't sure if he was offering or taking comfort.
"Don't touch me!" she ordered regardless, voice trembling. He ignored her, pulling her into an embrace, and it wasn't soft but tight and almost demanding. She hit him, her breaths coming as sobs of pain, but he didn't let go. "Leave me alone," she begged, closing her eyes and seeing only the image of her child that was now no longer to be. It was worst than all her nightmares combined, and oh Creator how it hurt.
"Don't speak," he said in a voice harsh with emotion. Kahlan felt the tremor in his hold of her, an urgency in the way he pressed her to his chest. Their child. Even as grief overtook her brain, the facts wouldn't escape her.
Kahlan didn't have the strength right now. In so many ways she didn't have it.
They were alone, all evidence of death removed. Darken sat on the bed with her and held her tightly to him as if clinging to his one constant. Heartbroken, exhausted, Kahlan stopped struggling. A tear dropped from her eye to his chest. She found herself weeping against him, then, and didn't know if she would ever stop.
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