A/N: We've gone into smut mode, well softcore smut mode. This is the last chapter, so thanks for reading.

The tavern had been dead silent for near half a candle mark. It wasn't closed, quite the opposite really. It was filled to capacity and shocked into an attentive hush.

It had been bustling evening, with news of the Seeker being in town half the village was trying to push through the doors of the tiny wooden box of a public watering hole just to get a peek at the mythic hero or the legendary beauty of the Mother Confessor. One would think the village was being raided by banelings that shot fire from their eyes the way people were fighting to get inside. The tavern owner been very pleased with the turn out - he hadn't served that many mugs of ale since wooden nickel night six years prior – and he invited the Seeker team to visit as often as they'd like, except maybe the Mord'Sith, she a had a way about her that curbed merriment. The whole time she was downstairs she stood at the corner of the bar looking painfully agitated, as if that skin tight leather she wore were too tight. Finally, after what seemed like an entire evening of watcher her watch him and the rest of the crowd like spiders in a jar, the tavern owner saw the Mord'Sith slither her way through the crowd and press herself up against the Mother Confessor's side.

The tavern owner couldn't hear exactly what was said between the two women, the din of the crowd was over powering, but he saw the Mord'Sith's eyes flash down and away from the Mother Confessor's. Soon after that the two moved away from the bar and headed upstairs to the room the tavern owner almost didn't give them simply because he didn't want a Mord'Sith patronizing his establishment. If it wasn't for the Seeker vouching for his so-called friend and the wizard ordering enough food to feed a host of gars, the tavern owner would have insisted she sleep outside the city gate. It was soon after their departure that the exhibition had begun.

The building was old, and the sounds of creaking floor boards and voices passing through walls was common, but when it took to a scale of what was happening currently there was no way to ignore it. Mouths dropped open, drinks where sunk, many women left mortified, some women stayed, the occasional hat was placed in a lap to disguise a rising interest. Each thump, each groan (feminine or otherwise), each shout of strained ecstasy was collected and held onto by all patrons sitting at a heated attention. All save two.

"It's not what you all think. It isn't loud enough," piped in Zedd between sucking meat from bone and juice from his fingers. No one paid a cent's worth of attention to him. The rattling floor boards pitched with ferocity as the weight they supported shifted directions.

A muffled exclamation was heard, "By the Creator, it's so tight," and two dozen dry throats were slaked in a deluged of flat ale. Zedd just raised his bushy eyebrows and rolled his eyes under them. Trying to convince a hoard of ruttish townsfolk that the two women upstairs weren't copulating like a pair of shadrin in heat wasn't worth letting his dinner go cold.

Richard for his part stayed quiet. Fuming, but quiet. It wasn't the two upstairs he was angry at - well, perhaps a bit - but it was more at the inhabitants of the tavern. He couldn't stand them thinking those things about Kahlan, their Mother Confessor, and a small part of him (because his chivalry got in the way) couldn't have them thinking that about Cara either.

"Don't let it get to you my boy."

"How could I not?" Richard seethed through his teeth. "I know that they're not doing you know, that, so how come no one else-"

"Kahlan don't stop." This was followed by a much larger thud then heard previously, and Richard wondered if either one of them had injured the other.

"That's why." Zedd dropped the last chicken bone on to his plate and wiped his hands clean on a greasy napkin. "Perhaps you should go intervene."

Richard gave a crisp nod, picked up Kahlan's pack, which she had left at his feet for safe keeping and intended on returning for later, and he shoved a path through the transfixed crowd to the stairway.

Richard had just crest the top step when Kahlan emerged from the room pressing the wrinkles from her skirt and untwisting tangles from her long brown hair.

"Kahlan." Richard stepped up to stop her progression; he couldn't let her go back down stairs.

"Richard," Kahlan noticed what he had in his hand, "you brought my backpack."

"Yeah, I don't think it would be a good idea for you to go back downstairs right now, maybe not until morning." He thought maybe leaving through the window would be her only safe exit really.

Kahlan just shook her head in confusion and stepped past Richard, leaving him to hold her pack just a little while longer. "I don't know what you mean by that."

"Kahlan, don't." It was a rather futile attempt on Richard's part, but Kahlan was stopped dead on the third step down by the wolf whistles, bawdy laughter, and offers of a round of drinks.

It took a long second for her to realize, and when she did mortifying embarrassment rushed her back to the landing.

"The whole place? Everyone? Every one of them heard?"

Richard just nodded wide-eyed and sympathetic. Any trace of embarrassment melted off and turned furry as Kahlan's grabbed her pack from Richard's hand. The last he saw of her for the night was a flourish of dark locks as she stormed back into the room and shut the door loudly behind her.

Cara shifted on the bed, it was hard to find a spot that wasn't lumpy or sunk in, and the whole thing moved when she moved - the legs barely held the thing up much less stable. She didn't like the bed, in fact she loathed it. Richard certainly had a talent for picking the most unworthy spots in a village. He would say something about down home charm which made her wonder if all of Westland was as much of a mud hole as these rat infested inns he always picked suggested. For the moment though she would just enjoy the bed for what it was not, a pile of musty straw and a moth eaten bedroll as opposed to a pile of loose, musty leaves and a moth eaten bedroll in the middle of the woods.

She had finally found a spot that worked for her and relinquished a sigh when the door opened, slammed again, and something large and coarse was flung at her.

"Cara!"

"Kahlan." Cara said smoothly as she pushed the pack off her chest and lifted her head to view Kahlan's temper ridged face.

"They heard."

"Who heard what?"

"They," Kahlan flung her hands motioning to the floor, "the whole blessed town heard us and now they think-" Kahlan couldn't hide the blush that spread across her freckled cheeks.

Cara raised an eyebrow in understanding. "They think you and I-"

"Yes."

"Well, that's not so bad," Cara said with a smirk. "I mean, we weren't really."

"No, but they think we were and that's the problem. I can't have people think you and I roam the country side having strident intercourse whenever we stop for the night."

"But we do. And sometimes it's not even at night." Cara smirk remained in place but took on a wolfish trait.

Cara was shot a shaming glare. "That's beside the point, Cara." But to Cara it wasn't. In the quickest of instances it was now the entire point in Cara's mind. Why should people think things about her that weren't true? That would make her a fraud, and Cara was anything but a liar. Brutal honesty was her policy. She would have to set the little town and all it's occupants straight - and in the most brutal way possible Creator willing.

"You know, Kahlan," Cara began as she tugged at her gloves, "many rulers are admired for their sexual prowess, their ability to take what does and what doesn't belong to them anytime they choose. It's a show of power, even more so when done publicly."

"Cara." It was a pitiful attempt at sincerity. Kahlan fully understood Cara's intentions. She may not be able to read a Mord'Sith but she could read body language and Cara used it as if it were her native tongue. The flash of green eyes, the way she nibbled on her lower lip, it made it very hard for Kahlan to lower her eyes and turn away in an attempt to admonish.

"It's common knowledge. Why, even I didn't just climb through the ranks of my sisters on sheer ruthlessness alone. You even said that you felt your connection to your people slipping. Why not take this chance to reestablish their sense of respect for you? Kahlan Amnell, Mother Confessor, bedder of Mord'Sith… stud." By this time Cara had gotten both gloves off and was slinking across the bed towards Kahlan on her hands and knees.

"Cara, stop." It fell on deaf ears. Cara had begun to lightly pluck at the laces of Kahlan's bodice each one getting looser, revealing more and more of Cara's favorite part of Kahlan's body. "I'm not going to-" Kahlan's words became stunted when a certain blonde began blowing softly against exposed, creamy flesh. "I'm not... not in front-"

"Why, is the though exciting you?" Cara reached up to cup Kahlan's jaw and gave her lips the slightest flick with her tongue.

Kahlan's defenses shattered and she took hold of the V in Cara's leather and lowered, or more like pushed her, back down on to the bed. "I really hate it when you make sense."

"And I love it when you realize that I do."

Richard was the only one enjoying the lack of noise coming from the room above the tavern. When he had marched back down the stairs triumphant in his assurance that no more noise was going to come from the two women, he was met with a string of aggravated glares and even one bold "Way to kill it, Seeker."

He dropped himself back into his seat next to Zedd, who in the amount of time it had taken Richard to walk up stairs then back down had, ordered another full plate of chicken and vegetables. Richard picked up his drink and was about to put it to his mouth when he was nudged strongly from behind. Richard sought out the one who did it but picking an angry face out of that particular crowed would be a difficult task, even for the Seeker of Truth.

"Suddenly all the merriment has gone?" Richard said loud enough so the people around him would hear his mocking.

"Richard, my boy, you seem to be a great wizard indeed."

"How so Zedd?"

"Because you've managed to perform a trick not even I am capable of." Richard just lifted his eyebrows waiting to hear of this powerful magic he didn't know he possessed. "You've managed to cockblock two and half dozen people without a wag of your little finger."

Richard scoffed. "Well that's fine by me. What kind of friend would I be if-" a loud bang shook the rafters above Richard's head and he was peppered with a thin layer of dust. All eyes shot back to the ceiling.

"Use your teeth," rolled through the dining hall and cheers from the crowd roared in response. Richard and Zedd exchanged a look.

"Perhaps they're trying to get her gloves off?" the wizard offered, but as soon as the words left his mouth something, perhaps a water pitcher, was tossed to the floor of the room upstairs and shattered.

"Care to go for a walk?"

"My boy, I think that might be for the best."

Time had lost meaning inside the room upstairs; Kahlan had stopped caring about it, about the people down stairs, even about the wash basin and small table they had broken – she had told Cara she didn't think it would hold their weight, but Cara could be rather insistent when she wanted to be. No, nothing much mattered at this moment except riding out her release. Wrestling Cara into a position she found pleasurable had taken precious time – she could be very obstinate when it came to submission – but eventually she had seen things Kahlan's way and relented. Kahlan figured rolling over was the least she could do as it was Cara's aggressive knot tying that had started everything.

"Unnh, Cara," Kahlan husked as with one last roll of her hips she slackened her hold on both power and arousal, releasing them from her body to hover like cirrus around her. Her entire form shook as she lowered her chest to Cara's warm back and pressed her lips to her lover's skin. Cara didn't prefer the slow, passionate love making Kahlan did, which made it all the more satisfying when she allowed it.

"You're so-" Kahlan stopped her sentence when a sound that was half breath half snort escaped from Cara. Fingers brushed aside flaxen strands to reveal firmly shut eyes that contrasted the slightly agape mouth. A steady breath was sucked in and it rumbled at the back of Cara's throat, and Kahlan was left scandalized.

As quickly as she slid away, Kahlan brought her hand down with a loud and gratifying slap across Cara's backside.

The blond snapped out of her light sleep with a jerk. "Oww."

"You fell asleep?"

"Wha?"

Kahlan's hand came down again, deepening the red painted across Cara's rear. "I can't believe you fell asleep."

"I'm sorry," Cara groaned as she rubbed the sting from her skin. Blinking her eyes she looked up at Kahlan's frowning face. "Do you need me to finish you off?"

"No."

"Then what's the problem?"

"The problem is you fell asleep."

"You were taking too long. I may be Mord'Sith, but even I find there are some tortures I can't sit through," Cara said with a smart scoff.

Kahlan gasped at Cara's goading and struck again, but this time Cara lunged up and pressed herself to the confessor's still sweat warmed body and stared menacingly into blue eyes.

"Stop that."

"Or what?" Kahlan egged with another tap to the Mord'Sith's firm cheek.

Cara took hold of Kahlan sensitive left nipple and twisted, eliciting a moan that was lined with something other than pain. "That's what."

The two kneeled in front of each other, testing the resolve of the other, Kahlan's hand hovered threateningly above Cara's ass, and Cara's fingers keeping a vice on the small pink bud. Blue burned into green, and hot breath pushed hot breath. All sleep had been washed from Cara and Kahlan was starting to feel the heat rise again. The brunette's hand struck, the blonde's fingers twisted, there was a yelp and a moan followed by a quick hiss and the meeting of lips.

Quick pecks became passionate, fueled by a feverish need as hands grasped at skin and hair. In panting breaths forced out between sucking bites, words managed to slip by.

"Don't you dare think about nodding off this time."

"Not as long as we get to do things my way," Cara said as she wrapped Kahlan up in her arms and fell backwards onto the bed with her.

The bed wobbled upon the impact of their entwined bodies and the snapping of three separate wooden legs sounded. The bed hit the floor with a thunderous pound and Kahlan swore she hear a cheer rise from the tavern below.

"Creator's ass, I hate this bed!"

Cara rose early the next morning from the straw filled mattress she and Kahlan had pulled to the floor, they both had given up sleeping on the bed at the ridiculous angle it was perched at. She quickly collected her leathers and rummaged through Kahlan's pack to pull out her spare dress, since the one she wore the day before had gotten soaked through by the water from the broken basin, and then headed downstairs to the tavern proper.

The mood had seemed to change over night. Instead of the usual stares of fear, hate, and uncertainty, Cara was met with knowing looks and smiles, and 'good mornings' that were too cheerful for her taste. Even the tavern owner, who would have her sleep in a pig's wallow over his dry-rotted hole in the wall, stopped his redundant polishing of the battered bar top to inquire about her night's rest.

"The bed was horrible and I would have preferred if you had forced me to sleep in the bed of a wagon behind the smithy, but-" Cara could hear Richard and Kahlan's scolding running through her mind about how she should at least try to lessen the blow of her blunt honesty, "-but I thank you for your hospitality nonetheless."

The tavern owner offered her a confused but honest, "You're welcome."

"The Mother Confess and I would also like to apologize for any disturbances we may have caused last night." Reaching to her belt, Cara untucked a small purse she kept and removed six gold coins. She placed them on the bar in front of the owner, this was another lesson drummed into her by those she traveled with. "I'd also like to compensate for any damages caused to your-" pit of squalor "-establishment. I'm sure that will be enough to purchase a bed of superior craftsmanship than the last one."

The tavern owner smiled and took only half. "The carpenter is a friend of mine and won't charge me that much."

Cara nodded finding this fair and turned back to the stairs. She didn't bother to stop when the tavern owner called out to her, "You and the Mother Confessor are welcomed back anytime you please." She had no clue that he didn't really need the money she offered. Half after midnight, when word spread through town of the nocturnal actives, the crowd of people trying to get into the tavern had begun to wrap around the side of the building. Being the venturing business man that he was, the tavern owner began to charge admission and require a two drink minimum. He had taken in enough money not only to replace the bed in the now infamous room, but he had enough to refurbish all five of the rooms and build on an extension.

"Long live the Mother Confessor," the tavern owner said to himself and he resumed his polishing.