The next few days didn’t go by nearly as fast as Weyoun would’ve liked. He spent fourteen hours a day away from the house, and once he got back Rahlen and Mah’lel demanded a certain amount of attention. Worst yet, he couldn’t excuse himself—he and Mah’lel shared a bedroom! Luckily, she hadn’t expected him to perform husbandly duties yet. Sure, he knew how technically. It was standard that diplomats know how to sexually woo a potential spy for a difficult world, but he hadn’t had to sexually woo anyone in 22 years! Even then, it was the nineteen year old daughter of an emperor who he was subtly negotiating the surrender of. The Vorta remembered that with a smile. It had been easy to convince the virgin that he was almost god-like, and once the girl was convinced, she unknowingly whispered poison in her father’s ear.
Weyoun’s good mood only improved some when he approached the door of his home. If he had to choose his favorite thing from the last few days and sleep wasn’t an option, he’d have to say that his time with his ‘family’ was the best. His work was boring and worst yet, he was around Favrel all day. Though, the loose-mouthed man did have some benefits. Because of him, he discovered that the company they both worked with worked in cloning and a lesser known part of it was in genetics. Both he and Favrel worked in that area as lower level technicians. Even then Weyoun felt out of his element, but so far no one had caught on that he had no idea what he was doing. Through their cloning, they brought back pets and through their work in genetics, several previously extinct species on Kurill were now in existence in their labs. It was fascinating, really.
With work behind him, Weyoun shut the door and deposited his padd on the table before heading up to the bedroom. The house was dark which meant that Mah’lel was already in the bedroom. Fighting the urge to peer in at Rahlen, Weyoun quietly slipped in the bedroom, though when he saw his wife reading, he forewent the effort to not wake her up and just shut the door.
“It’s been a while since you’ve been this late.” Weyoun didn’t miss the irritation in her voice, nor did he miss that she tried to hide it. It was a sweet effort, though “I’m sorry, a meeting went over and then Favrel left me to go driving with this temporary personal assistant that he met. I had to use public transportation.” That had been irritating, though the lack Favrel’s horrendous driving had been nice. Not worrying for his mortality, especially when he was stuck in an orb, had been a pleasant reprieve.
Mah’lel only smiled and shut the book. Standing up, she placed it to the side and took off her robe. This time it was yellow and, as he watched Mah’lel shed it, he realized that it matched her gown underneath. The top portion around her low-scooping neckline was lined with simple white lace and the bottom of the gown went down to Mah’lel’s thighs. They were rather firm, though he knew this from the night before when Mah’lel turned in her sleep and she brushed him with them.
“Ogling will get you everywhere with me,” His eyes snapped up to her face and he smiled when she smiled at him. “You look beautiful,” Did she? He thought she had all the attributes that would classify her as beautiful. Her skin was clear, her eyes were big and her body firm and fit. More than that, Mah’lel reminded him of the daughter he had seduced. Both of them possessed a distinct purity and kindness. If he were to classify anyone as appealing, he supposed that that would be the criteria he would use.
These thoughts vanished as Mah’lel approached him and snaked her arms around his torso. “Thank you, Mr. Connard. Maybe I should dress up more so you’d be more motivated to come home earlier.” When Mah’lel tilted her head and slid a soft, cool, wet tongue over his ear, Weyoun couldn’t resist the shudder that went through him or the way his hands clenched instinctively to her hips. It was very stimulating and in ways that he normally didn’t care to be stimulated. Sex was a tool, not an indulgence. Though, if there ever was a safe time to indulge, he supposed an illusion would be the best place to do so.
“Mah’lel,” taking her hands, he cleared his throat and shifted until his wife was looking at him. “I had a very long day,” Weyoun measured the apologetic tone in his voice and watched as a flash of understanding, as well as disappointment went over Mah’lel’s features. Impulsively, he continued “if it hadn’t been such a long day….I’m sorry Mah’lel. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. Maybe we could have dinner out?” When that didn’t seem to erase the look on her face, Weyoun felt compelled to try again. It was because she was all he had here, he was sure.
“Maybe a romantic dinner?” his tone prompted a response, to which he received none “and afterwards, we could go…do something you like.”
She seemed satisfied with the effort. “Alright, we won’t mess around tonight.” Smiling, she kissed him again. Weyoun could feel her breasts press against him and one of her legs brushing against the front of his thighs and, irritatingly enough, an erection that was a result of her attention to his ear. The Founders should’ve made all parts of their body insensitive. This was cruel. Giving a nervous smile, he pulled back. “Well, we should sleep.” Relief washed over Weyoun as Mah’lel went to her own side of the bed and he was blissfully untouched by her.
“Rahlen’s party is almost totally planned,” Weyoun froze, his hands poised over the next button of his shirt. Why would Rahlen be having a party? He thought over what he knew about the child before recalling that his birthday would be soon. “Oh really?” Weyoun asked and continued undressing for bed.
“I decided against a caterer though. It’s only ten kids and about six adults. I can cook for that many.” Mah’lel paused and watched as her husband, now in his plain black pajamas, crawled into bed. “We’re not so presumptuous as to need caterers I don’t think.” Weyoun returned the smile Mah’lel gave him after her comment and, after a moment of thought, he leaned over and kissed her. She seemed more agreeable when he showed her affection. Mah’lel murmured a goodnight to her husband before shifting in the bed, her head turned from him as she settled into the soft mattress for the night. Weyoun took the moment to watch her with an unguarded face.
The next month was a flurry of activity and with each passing day, Rujhah became an identity that he was comfortable with. Hearing Mah’lel murmur the name, the distinct sound of a smile in her soft voice, was no longer so foreign to him. Though, he could’ve done without it being belched from Favrel’s mouth. It would truly be the removal of a blemish from the Vorta race if Favrel met his untimely end, preferably something embarrassing or that involved a sexually transmitted disease. Weyoun smiled at the irony of that as he chopped up one of the crisp vegetables that Mah’lel put him to work on in the kitchen. In effort to minimize his exposure to the disdainful man, Weyoun had began bringing his lunch to work and feign being behind so that he remained in the building while Favrel fraternized. His wife had been very agreeable to this, among other things.
Husbandly duties had not been something he was able to avoid the whole time. Though, he found once he stopped resisting Mah’lel’s wiles, Weyoun begrudgingly realized that, perhaps, her wiles were not so bad. As a matter of fact, once he got over the initial discomfort of it and enjoyed the stimulation, he rather liked her wiles.
“What are you grinning about?” Weyoun’s smile instantly pulled into a line across his face as he felt Mah’lel’s arms around his waist. She smelled like the flower fragrance perfume she had upstairs, he noted, and turned his head to look to her.
“You,”
Weyoun saw no reason to be dishonest about that. Even if he wasn’t serving the Founders here, the ambassador could almost say that he was happy. Feeling that that word was treacherous, Weyoun adjusted the word within himself to comfortable. Yes, he was comfortable there, within this illusion.
Half an hour later the Vorta found himself leaving home, his briefcase in one hand, his lunch concealed safely inside, and riding to work with another tech, Chales. He was quiet, thankfully so, and only made uptight small talk about the weather and traffic. He was the image of awkward, stiff necked perfection and Weyoun couldn’t have been happier. Getting to work with ten minutes to spare, and without the chorus of blaring warning signals and the steady, fast drumbeat of his heart, Weyoun quickly passed through security and to his cave workroom in the basements of the company.
His usual workstation, a place he had become adequately familiar with, had been removed in the night. Instead, a series of five pods were settled in the middle of the floor where the collective terminals had been. Roughly they resembled Vorta cloning facilities with smooth, beetle-like shells over the top and a rich black complexion that reflected the lights above so well that he saw each bright round disc on the surfaces of the pods. Technicians in lilac patterned lab coats stood against one wall, each an assigned task as they monitored what he presumed to be the status of the large compartments. These were people he worked with, so Weyoun followed their example, donned his own lab coat, and set to work, mindlessly checking information.
“Bet you wish you came into work with me today, don’t you?” The hiss beside his ear was unmistakable and Weyoun watched Favrel in his own lab-coat. How long had he been there? Looking to the violet digital clock posted in the large room, he noted that he’d already been there two hours.
It amazed Weyoun, and almost disturbed him, to see how much the technicians resembled cloning directors. Except for the lilac robes, they were identical. In this illusion, and he knew it was an illusion, they were a society who served no gods. Shaking such thoughts from his mind, Weyoun was about to check the humid temperature in one of the pods before the whoosh of the doors sounded across the nearly empty room. Like the rest of the technicians, Weyoun turned and promptly dropped the board, the sound creating a noticeable and unpleasant pop as it hit the floor.
Flanked by two Vorta of different sizes, both of which donned a pattered tunic, the smooth and undefined figure of a Founder approached with all the grace on Kurill. Recovering quickly, Weyoun picked up the board and swallowed. As if by engrained habit, his arms nearly spread and his head even began to droop into a respectful pose to his god. He barely stopped the action and composed himself when the Founder, who chose a feminine form, stopped in front of the group.
“The work you have done here,” her voice sounded so elegant “will live on forever.” Weyoun watched her figure turn and she slid one hand over the nearby hub. “Your species will be rewarded for your vast achievements in cloning.” Her head turned, her hand almost caressing the pod as she scanned over the Vorta lined up so neatly.
“You will drink the wine of a thousand worlds and reap the benefits of being part of the Dominion. You, your children and your children’s children will live in the stars and be gods among men on worlds you have never seen.” Her taunt face drew into a smile and she held her hands open. “You will never see the end of the Vorta.”
Countless times Weyoun listened to similar speeches said by his Founders but, as he watched her look at them with the same exact expression, the same tone and the sense of false friendliness, the Vorta couldn’t deny that it was not pleasant to be on the receiving end of such a statement and know the fate befallen on so many others.
Suddenly, the benevolence he felt towards the Founders mutated, grew and turned into something dark and monstrous within him. It was an illusion, Weyoun struggled to remind himself as the Founder went on about revealing alien life to the general public. None of it was real, they were tree dwelling apes! The Founders showed kindness to their people by making them the diplomats, the hands and the designers of the Dominion. This was some sick illusion created by the Bajoran prophets.
Now they were talking about the response of most civilians, but Weyoun didn’t hear them as he fell back from the herding crowd of technicians, anxious to hear the Founder. Changeling. Alien.
“…of course, many will panic, rebel…”
“The loss of life is inevitable, but what we gain-“
“It isn’t that many and just the undesirables”
“Really, do we want them in this revolutionary track for our species?”
The bright light once again enveloped Weyoun and he slumped forward, grabbing the table in front of him as he went from standing to kneeling, from air conditioned and sterile to warm and scented. Gasping in several times, the Vorta straightened and looked around. This room was dark in comparison to the basement lab. He recognized it, a distant memory.
He was back on Bajor, in his rightful time, in front of the Orb of Time. Impulsively the Vorta reached out to reopen the doors to the orb. Mah’lel and Rahlen, he just had his first birthday and he didn’t tell her how much he appreciated her patience. Slowly he withdrew his hands. No, they were an illusion. Mah’lel and Rahlen hadn’t been real; they were figments of some wormhole aliens’ imagination.
That should’ve provided some comfort, but as Weyoun looked down, his chest ached and his vision, already poor, began to blur.
Author’s Note: I know the present-day approach may be a little unique, but I’ve never believed that Weyoun’s explanation was the truth. So, please bear with me. Also, I would like to make any apologies to those who know more about the Prophets than I. I do not know how orb experiences work exactly, however I’m assuming, based on a few episodes featuring orb experiences, that this kind of thing could be possible. For those of you who have noticed Kira’s rank, there will be an explanation in the next chapter, which features Kira. Also, and this is my final note, this chapter will be the only one like this, so if you hated it…don’t worry, you won’t have to endure anymore in future chapters. And, if you loved it, soon I’ll be publishing ‘deleted scenes’ so to speak that are unseen in this chapter. You can read those if you like.
Thank you for reading and I hope you’re enjoying my story!
I just expect them to do that. I ask them what they want 
