ALL MY LIFE I’VE BEEN THE SLAVE OF CONSEQUENCE —
WONDERING HOW THIS LIFE COULD BE SO INTRICATE
RULES || BIO || VERSES ||Â MEMES
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@sixthweyoun
ALL MY LIFE I’VE BEEN THE SLAVE OF CONSEQUENCE —
WONDERING HOW THIS LIFE COULD BE SO INTRICATE
RULES || BIO || VERSES ||Â MEMES
My favorite relationship dynamic in fiction is a worshipper and their God. Not a literal God, but their God. The only thing in the whole world that matters to them. I will live for you, I would die for you, I would kill for you. My only moral compass is You. You can do no wrong in my eyes and I will never stray from your side. I was born to meet you and to love you. You are the only being I pray to. Your life isn’t just my passion, it’s my religion. You don’t think you’re anything special but you don’t see what I see. You don’t see that you’re the only person who’s ever made me feel this way. You don’t understand how beautiful you are to me and I will devote my entire life to making you understand and accept it.
[[starter for @sixthweyoun's Rivan
Odo was... Concerned. After two weeks or so on the Station, Rivan was beginning to look awfully run down. It wasn't, technically speaking, his problem. Rivan wasn't his attendant, and his interference wasn't likely to be all that appreciated. But he couldn't just ignore it.
He caught him at the end of a lesson. Odo interrupted, gave Weyoun an affectionate and apologetic touch, and then requested, "Rivan? I'd like to speak to you for a moment, if you have nothing that urgently needs your attention."
Rivan chirped in surprise at Odo's acknowledgement. Odo didn't address him often, which he interpreted as fear of impropriety, whether or not that was the reason, but his Blessed Attendant continuously praised his gentle and reasonable leadership. To be addressed by Odo, when it happened, was a privilege he eagerly awaited.
"You honor me with your invitation, Weiyaita," he answered, following the standard formula, more or less. The absence of Ceremonial still bothered him. "The one I serve will excuse an absence at your behest. What do you require of me?"
Odo let go of Weyoun, and though he somewhat doubted that his guardian would be so understanding of him taking Rivan's time from them, he didn't argue--this was too important. He took Rivan's hand and just pushed some gentle reassurance his way. He had done nothing wrong and thus had nothing to fear from him.
"I'm worried," he said after a moment, "that you aren't getting enough rest. You look tired, Rivan."
Rivan brushed off the concern. "The Founder's five-hour regeneration period ought to be— is," he corrected himself, "perfectly sufficient." It wasn't sufficient, but it had to be. They hadn't instituted a new protocol yet, and it certainly wasn't his place to say whether they should.
Not wanting to overstep and criticize the one he served too harshly, he attempted to change the subject. "Weyoun said today that I've made progress in data organization and record keeping. I think the one I serve will be pleased," he said quietly, with a somewhat forced smile.
[[starter for @sixthweyoun's Rivan
Odo was... Concerned. After two weeks or so on the Station, Rivan was beginning to look awfully run down. It wasn't, technically speaking, his problem. Rivan wasn't his attendant, and his interference wasn't likely to be all that appreciated. But he couldn't just ignore it.
He caught him at the end of a lesson. Odo interrupted, gave Weyoun an affectionate and apologetic touch, and then requested, "Rivan? I'd like to speak to you for a moment, if you have nothing that urgently needs your attention."
Rivan chirped in surprise at Odo's acknowledgement. Odo didn't address him often, which he interpreted as fear of impropriety, whether or not that was the reason, but his Blessed Attendant continuously praised his gentle and reasonable leadership. To be addressed by Odo, when it happened, was a privilege he eagerly awaited.
"You honor me with your invitation, Weiyaita," he answered, following the standard formula, more or less. The absence of Ceremonial still bothered him. "The one I serve will excuse an absence at your behest. What do you require of me?"
Semi-plotted starter for @constable
Weyoun-7b had died peacefully, just as Weyoun-6 before him. His Beloved Founder had made absolutely sure of that, given him a comfortable place to spend his final days and sat with him day and night, even regenerating next to Weyoun's own sleeping form.
It had become Vanath's own responsibility to contact nearby facilities in hopes that one of them would have a Weyoun in cryo. There were four facilities reasonably close to their location. Only one of them had what was requested.
"...Kind of," the facility head had told her.
Vanath was taken off guard. "What do you mean, kind of? Either you have a Weyoun iteration ready to be activated or you don't," she said, her voice a bit cold as she lamented the slippage of standards so far out from Kurill Prime.
"What I mean," the facility head answered, "is yes, we do have a Weyoun, but no, he's not finished developing."
"Is he viable?" Vanath asked. She did not want the Founder she served to be without his Attendant any longer than he had to be. A viable clone, even one a few years out from being service-ready, would be better than nothing.
The facility head paused. "Well, yes, but--"
"Is he viable," Vanath repeated.
"He is. But I feel the need to warn you that he's far from ready for dep--"
"Prep him for memory implantation and deployment. This is an order from the Ineffable."
And so the ship went along its appointed course, and a mere few light-years away, a very young Weyoun was being prepared to open his eyes for the first time.
Odo mourned, just as he had the last time he'd lost his companion to age. It should have made a difference, perhaps, that Weyoun would be returned to him almost exactly the same in a matter of days, but it did not. Still, his beloved companion had been lost, taken from him. No matter that his memories were preserved, it would be a different Weyoun who he cared for moving forward--one who would, in turn, be given the same love and respect he deserved as an individual, the same way his predecessors had.
But for the moment, Odo mourned, isolating himself from nearly all until he could finally step into the cloning facility with fresh hope plastered over the pain that lingered within him. And then, between one step and the next, he stopped. Because certainly, he'd been expecting someone young, with his well-earned wrinkles and faded hair wiped away, but Weyoun 8B wasn't simply young. No, he was a child.
"I was told he had been prepared," Odo said, not quite questioning the geneticist walking with them. Slowly, he stepped forward again. Even as a child, that would be his Weyoun--Odo couldn't even contemplate having him terminated for the crime of this error. Eight more steps, and Odo reached to take the child's hand to hold in both of his own.
The geneticist took a deep breath. It was so tempting to say something that began with Vanath insisted— to implicate her in this error. But she had been so earnest, and wouldn't have done this if there had been any other option. "He has been. But it's highly unlikely that he'll be able to serve to the capacity that the Founder may be used to," he answered.
Weyoun looked up at his Beloved with big, luminous eyes. He knew, thanks to the memory upload, that this Founder was important in a way that went beyond what his conditioning told him. But those memories were from another Weyoun, and they made his head hurt a little.
He shook his head. "...Are you here to take me home, Founder?" he asked, embarrassed at hearing the squeaky voice that came from his body. "They keep saying I—" he paused, the pre-activation conditioning forcing his speech into the more formal pattern he was meant to use before his Gods— "they keep saying that this servant isn't right. One hopes that one isn't a disappointment."
"No version of you could ever be anything but a gift," Odo reassured immediately. "Yes. I'm here to take you home."
He created another arm to reach up to stroke Weyoun's hair off of his face, then he gently rubbed his thumb over Weyoun's cheek and gave him both a smile and the shared feelings of love and approval and gratitude that hi beloved attendant deserved. Carefully, he hid the shock of sorrow which had come from his lack of familiarity with this young Weyoun's voice. That was a disappointment, if only in that Odo had so been looking forward to hearing his Beloved again, but he didn't need to share that.
"What do you feel, Weyoun? Are you in pain?" He gestured to Vanath for the rippleberry juice that had been prepared, then offered it to him.
Weyoun teared up at the sudden sunburst of approval and care that Odo's gentle affection brought with it. He was all mixed up inside— memories of two lifetimes of love and kindness mingled with Aspirant-level conditioning to create a very confusing picture of what was going on.
"Founder, when the head of this facility informed me he wasn't ready for activation, I assumed he'd be a year or two out. Not..." Vanath trailed off, not wanting to make this small Weyoun feel even worse about himself. "I suppose it doesn't matter," she said with a smile. "He's still our Weyoun, and we'll give him the best possible place to grow up."
She handed over the glass, watching as Weyoun accepted it with a less polished version of the grace and humility she'd come to expect of him. "Thank you, Founder," he said with a bow of his head, then a smaller bow in her direction. "And thank you as well, Onashuro'taima." He gave Odo another anxious look. He trusted Odo so much, even if his young mind wasn't really capable of understanding why yet. "One was afraid that one would be terminated," he answered, quiet and soft-spoken as Attendant conditioning demanded.
The geneticist looked down guiltily. "This servant never stated that Weyoun-8b would be terminated," he said, tail wrapping more tightly around his legs. "It's clear that this line is very dear to the Founder. A Blessed Attendant?"
Vanath was right that it didn't matter, but it was still going to take a little time to come to terms with it. He ran his hand through Weyoun's hair again and turned back to look at the geneticist. "I should certainly hope not." Then, because he was grasping for some sense of normalcy here, he teased back, "One will not be. You needn't fear, Beloved." And that was answer enough for the geneticist as well.
His question hadn't really been answered, unfortunately, and Odo's concern wouldn't fade until he was certain, so as carefully as he was capable of, he nudged a little further into Weyoun's mind, searching for any signs of pain. When he was satisfied, he bent to rest his forehead briefly against Weyoun's temple, then made his pride incredibly clear. "I'm going to leave you with Vanath for only a moment, then I will return. Do you understand?"
Weyoun nodded, still a little overwhelmed by how much this differed from what he expected to happen. He'd been activated in a hurry, and his brain wasn't yet developed enough to hold several lifetimes of memory— to be honest, the more he thought about it, the more it gave him a headache. But he knew enough to know that this Founder was one he'd served before. A Blessed bond. Every time he lifted his eyes from the floor to look up at Odo, he could feel it filling him with warmth.
"Generally, memories aren't implanted until the subject has matured," the technician said quietly, looking like he was about to wet his pants. "The process is a bit... finicky at this developmental stage. Unique handling preferences, specialized training... that'll all take a while to reintegrate. Again, one ap—"
Vanath cut him off with a sharp glare. "If you need to discuss the particulars, you can discuss them with the Founder alone," she said sternly before placing a protective hand on the little Weyoun's shoulders. "It'll be alright. I've always taken good care of you, shiysa."
Semi-plotted starter for @constable
Weyoun-7b had died peacefully, just as Weyoun-6 before him. His Beloved Founder had made absolutely sure of that, given him a comfortable place to spend his final days and sat with him day and night, even regenerating next to Weyoun's own sleeping form.
It had become Vanath's own responsibility to contact nearby facilities in hopes that one of them would have a Weyoun in cryo. There were four facilities reasonably close to their location. Only one of them had what was requested.
"...Kind of," the facility head had told her.
Vanath was taken off guard. "What do you mean, kind of? Either you have a Weyoun iteration ready to be activated or you don't," she said, her voice a bit cold as she lamented the slippage of standards so far out from Kurill Prime.
"What I mean," the facility head answered, "is yes, we do have a Weyoun, but no, he's not finished developing."
"Is he viable?" Vanath asked. She did not want the Founder she served to be without his Attendant any longer than he had to be. A viable clone, even one a few years out from being service-ready, would be better than nothing.
The facility head paused. "Well, yes, but--"
"Is he viable," Vanath repeated.
"He is. But I feel the need to warn you that he's far from ready for dep--"
"Prep him for memory implantation and deployment. This is an order from the Ineffable."
And so the ship went along its appointed course, and a mere few light-years away, a very young Weyoun was being prepared to open his eyes for the first time.
Odo mourned, just as he had the last time he'd lost his companion to age. It should have made a difference, perhaps, that Weyoun would be returned to him almost exactly the same in a matter of days, but it did not. Still, his beloved companion had been lost, taken from him. No matter that his memories were preserved, it would be a different Weyoun who he cared for moving forward--one who would, in turn, be given the same love and respect he deserved as an individual, the same way his predecessors had.
But for the moment, Odo mourned, isolating himself from nearly all until he could finally step into the cloning facility with fresh hope plastered over the pain that lingered within him. And then, between one step and the next, he stopped. Because certainly, he'd been expecting someone young, with his well-earned wrinkles and faded hair wiped away, but Weyoun 8B wasn't simply young. No, he was a child.
"I was told he had been prepared," Odo said, not quite questioning the geneticist walking with them. Slowly, he stepped forward again. Even as a child, that would be his Weyoun--Odo couldn't even contemplate having him terminated for the crime of this error. Eight more steps, and Odo reached to take the child's hand to hold in both of his own.
The geneticist took a deep breath. It was so tempting to say something that began with Vanath insisted— to implicate her in this error. But she had been so earnest, and wouldn't have done this if there had been any other option. "He has been. But it's highly unlikely that he'll be able to serve to the capacity that the Founder may be used to," he answered.
Weyoun looked up at his Beloved with big, luminous eyes. He knew, thanks to the memory upload, that this Founder was important in a way that went beyond what his conditioning told him. But those memories were from another Weyoun, and they made his head hurt a little.
He shook his head. "...Are you here to take me home, Founder?" he asked, embarrassed at hearing the squeaky voice that came from his body. "They keep saying I—" he paused, the pre-activation conditioning forcing his speech into the more formal pattern he was meant to use before his Gods— "they keep saying that this servant isn't right. One hopes that one isn't a disappointment."
"No version of you could ever be anything but a gift," Odo reassured immediately. "Yes. I'm here to take you home."
He created another arm to reach up to stroke Weyoun's hair off of his face, then he gently rubbed his thumb over Weyoun's cheek and gave him both a smile and the shared feelings of love and approval and gratitude that hi beloved attendant deserved. Carefully, he hid the shock of sorrow which had come from his lack of familiarity with this young Weyoun's voice. That was a disappointment, if only in that Odo had so been looking forward to hearing his Beloved again, but he didn't need to share that.
"What do you feel, Weyoun? Are you in pain?" He gestured to Vanath for the rippleberry juice that had been prepared, then offered it to him.
Weyoun teared up at the sudden sunburst of approval and care that Odo's gentle affection brought with it. He was all mixed up inside— memories of two lifetimes of love and kindness mingled with Aspirant-level conditioning to create a very confusing picture of what was going on.
"Founder, when the head of this facility informed me he wasn't ready for activation, I assumed he'd be a year or two out. Not..." Vanath trailed off, not wanting to make this small Weyoun feel even worse about himself. "I suppose it doesn't matter," she said with a smile. "He's still our Weyoun, and we'll give him the best possible place to grow up."
She handed over the glass, watching as Weyoun accepted it with a less polished version of the grace and humility she'd come to expect of him. "Thank you, Founder," he said with a bow of his head, then a smaller bow in her direction. "And thank you as well, Onashuro'taima." He gave Odo another anxious look. He trusted Odo so much, even if his young mind wasn't really capable of understanding why yet. "One was afraid that one would be terminated," he answered, quiet and soft-spoken as Attendant conditioning demanded.
The geneticist looked down guiltily. "This servant never stated that Weyoun-8b would be terminated," he said, tail wrapping more tightly around his legs. "It's clear that this line is very dear to the Founder. A Blessed Attendant?"
Semi-plotted starter for @constable
Weyoun-7b had died peacefully, just as Weyoun-6 before him. His Beloved Founder had made absolutely sure of that, given him a comfortable place to spend his final days and sat with him day and night, even regenerating next to Weyoun's own sleeping form.
It had become Vanath's own responsibility to contact nearby facilities in hopes that one of them would have a Weyoun in cryo. There were four facilities reasonably close to their location. Only one of them had what was requested.
"...Kind of," the facility head had told her.
Vanath was taken off guard. "What do you mean, kind of? Either you have a Weyoun iteration ready to be activated or you don't," she said, her voice a bit cold as she lamented the slippage of standards so far out from Kurill Prime.
"What I mean," the facility head answered, "is yes, we do have a Weyoun, but no, he's not finished developing."
"Is he viable?" Vanath asked. She did not want the Founder she served to be without his Attendant any longer than he had to be. A viable clone, even one a few years out from being service-ready, would be better than nothing.
The facility head paused. "Well, yes, but--"
"Is he viable," Vanath repeated.
"He is. But I feel the need to warn you that he's far from ready for dep--"
"Prep him for memory implantation and deployment. This is an order from the Ineffable."
And so the ship went along its appointed course, and a mere few light-years away, a very young Weyoun was being prepared to open his eyes for the first time.
Odo mourned, just as he had the last time he'd lost his companion to age. It should have made a difference, perhaps, that Weyoun would be returned to him almost exactly the same in a matter of days, but it did not. Still, his beloved companion had been lost, taken from him. No matter that his memories were preserved, it would be a different Weyoun who he cared for moving forward--one who would, in turn, be given the same love and respect he deserved as an individual, the same way his predecessors had.
But for the moment, Odo mourned, isolating himself from nearly all until he could finally step into the cloning facility with fresh hope plastered over the pain that lingered within him. And then, between one step and the next, he stopped. Because certainly, he'd been expecting someone young, with his well-earned wrinkles and faded hair wiped away, but Weyoun 8B wasn't simply young. No, he was a child.
"I was told he had been prepared," Odo said, not quite questioning the geneticist walking with them. Slowly, he stepped forward again. Even as a child, that would be his Weyoun--Odo couldn't even contemplate having him terminated for the crime of this error. Eight more steps, and Odo reached to take the child's hand to hold in both of his own.
The geneticist took a deep breath. It was so tempting to say something that began with Vanath insisted— to implicate her in this error. But she had been so earnest, and wouldn't have done this if there had been any other option. "He has been. But it's highly unlikely that he'll be able to serve to the capacity that the Founder may be used to," he answered.
Weyoun looked up at his Beloved with big, luminous eyes. He knew, thanks to the memory upload, that this Founder was important in a way that went beyond what his conditioning told him. But those memories were from another Weyoun, and they made his head hurt a little.
He shook his head. "...Are you here to take me home, Founder?" he asked, embarrassed at hearing the squeaky voice that came from his body. "They keep saying I—" he paused, the pre-activation conditioning forcing his speech into the more formal pattern he was meant to use before his Gods— "they keep saying that this servant isn't right. One hopes that one isn't a disappointment."
Semi-plotted starter for @constable
Weyoun-7b had died peacefully, just as Weyoun-6 before him. His Beloved Founder had made absolutely sure of that, given him a comfortable place to spend his final days and sat with him day and night, even regenerating next to Weyoun's own sleeping form.
It had become Vanath's own responsibility to contact nearby facilities in hopes that one of them would have a Weyoun in cryo. There were four facilities reasonably close to their location. Only one of them had what was requested.
"...Kind of," the facility head had told her.
Vanath was taken off guard. "What do you mean, kind of? Either you have a Weyoun iteration ready to be activated or you don't," she said, her voice a bit cold as she lamented the slippage of standards so far out from Kurill Prime.
"What I mean," the facility head answered, "is yes, we do have a Weyoun, but no, he's not finished developing."
"Is he viable?" Vanath asked. She did not want the Founder she served to be without his Attendant any longer than he had to be. A viable clone, even one a few years out from being service-ready, would be better than nothing.
The facility head paused. "Well, yes, but--"
"Is he viable," Vanath repeated.
"He is. But I feel the need to warn you that he's far from ready for dep--"
"Prep him for memory implantation and deployment. This is an order from the Ineffable."
And so the ship went along its appointed course, and a mere few light-years away, a very young Weyoun was being prepared to open his eyes for the first time.
[[ semi-plotted starter for @sixthweyoun (Rivan)
It wasn't the first time that they had seen Rivan upset. No, it was the fifth. Or, perhaps, the fourth, if they were to disregard the most minor of the four previous incidents. Mostly, they'd chosen to let Weyoun comfort and set to rights the younger Vorta, but now... Well. They didn't want him to leave, and more than that, they didn't want to send him away, or to make him feel as though this flaw was reason enough to be sent away, for any longer than it took to calm down. They had the sense that Rivan may need a review in the steadfastness of the bond between Founder and beloved attendant.
Stay. They gave the impression through a gentle touch--two fingers brushing away a tear. Then, shoving aside reservations about impropriety and undue affection, they slowly and deliberately drew Rivan closer into an embrace. They didn't use words to express anything else yet, but they hoped that their love and forgiveness was evident through the pseudo-Link initiated by their touch.
Rivan gave a small, anxious chirp as the Founder came close to him. They'd never done this before, preferring to allow his field mentor to address the peculiarities of solid emotion. To have them attempt to comfort him themself... it was unexpected, but deeply appreciated. His gratitude shone through the pseudo-Link without him even having to express it.
One is sorry for the disturbance, he transmitted, wrapping his tail— still puffed up from the night terror he'd just experienced— around his legs in deference. The Founder is welcome to return to regeneration if this servant is not needed for anything.
I love a character raised to be a weapon as much as the next guy. But what really gets me is a character raised to be a shield. Who can’t fathom being needed—or even being wanted— beyond keeping others safe. Who believe they are alive only to insure someone doesn’t die. no matter the cost. Characters who self-sacrifice not because they think they deserve it, but because no one else does deserve it, and it’s their job to protect.
Characters who’ve been told that’s why your important. Your worth something because this other person/ thing is important, and you are here solely to keep them safe.
Bonus points if it’s not a legitimate job they’ve been given. Maybe at one point it was, but now that they are free from it, they haven’t given up that mentality. No one is forcing or asking them to do this, but they need to. They need to in order to be deserving.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Weyoun 6 (Star Trek) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Weyoun 6 lives, debriefing, Federation Critical Summary:
Weyoun 6 gets debriefed after defecting from the Dominion. It’s not a fun time for him.
Written as part of Dominion Week 2024 (25 August - Battle of Wills) and, as is traditional, posted the night before the challenge officially starts.
This is canon to sixthweyoun btw
@constable sent a ⏪
His beloved Voice had given him an important assignment, and he would not fail.
It was shortly after the reconditioning of Kilana-2, an event which had also served to reinforce to the third of the Weyoun line what his own purpose ought to be— his worth was in his service to the Founders, and foremost to the one who had honored him with the position of Blessed Attendant. And she had taken a special interest in...
In something. She hadn't actually told him, and instead simply claimed that he would know what he was sent to retrieve when he saw it. But it was no matter. He would let his faith guide him. After all, his beloved Voice had given him an important assignment, and he would not fail.
So here he was. On the station referred to as Deep Space 9 by its inhabitants, trying not to think about how much more orderly and efficient things were on a Dominion starbase.
(like the Dominion starbase where he'd served with Kilana, before—)
Keep your mind on your assignment, Weyoun. This is your chance to prove yourself.
And then he saw who he was looking for. It was so obvious. The tall, sort of beige colored entity patrolling the corridor ahead of him was a Founder. He adjusted his pace to catch up, instinctively expecting some form of punishment for exceeding two paces' distance behind, but none came. After a while, he had caught up, and was attempting (with some success) to maintain the standard distance.
How does one get the attention of a god? Especially one who seems to be so unaware of their own divinity that they're working security on a station like this? Touching him seemed impolite. Speaking without being first spoken to seemed even more impolite. So instead he simply did what he would do with the one he served, and waited patiently for the Founder's acknowledgement.
As he became used to this new, gentle contact, his heartbeat slowed, and his breaths became more even. He even, by some autonomous reflex that he previously didn't know existed, began purring softly, a low and quiet sound that matched the hum of the small ship's engine almost exactly.
He allowed a series of disorganized impressions to float to the surface of his conscious mind, conveying that Vorta were once telepathic, but their telepathy was disciplined in service to the Founders at the time of the Uplift; that whatever Vorta telepathy was, it worked on a different mechanism than what the Founders could experience amongst themselves; that Odo would be more likely to find the kind of connection he craved among his own people; and, finally, that telepathic contact was, indeed, a good and vital feeling that he was glad he got to experience. Communicating this way was... nice, he found. It freed him from the need to adhere strictly to the Dominion's protocols, and as a result, he found himself much more easily speaking his mind. But somehow, it didn't feel crass or disrespectful to do so.
It almost felt like equality.
"it is, Founder. It's helping much more than one can express," he said, with complete and total honesty.
Odo focused on Weyoun's body--on his signs of life. The slowing of his heart, the brush of fur against his leg. The purring startled him so badly that he almost lost everything but the comfort of minds pressing tigether, but he just managed to pull back. The strain of it felt like nothing he'd ever experienced before. He didn't know what he was doing, let alone how to do it.
Weyoun was answering him before he realized that the unexpected thoughts weren't his. They were transferring knowledge! To speak in images and notions and thoughts without words! Odo found it almost entirely overwhelming to contemplate.
He gave up on avoiding touch and moved one hand to cradle the back of Weyoun's head, then curled sort of protectively around him. Weyoun was going to leave, he realized suddenly and painfully. He would be handed over to his people, and Weyoun would go back to the one he served, where he apparently wasn't given this, which he seemed to need. It didn't seem fair.
"Good," he finally said, minutes late, and added nothing else. There was nothing else that would be appropriate to say.
In the time it took Weyoun to settle completely into the Founder's protective embrace, he caught himself drifting off to sleep. It had been an exhausting couple of days— he didn't really get much sleep on the station, and everything before and since had just depleted him. Had he really not taken a second to stop? Well, of course not— what Vorta stopped, except for in the pause between the death of one iteration and activation of the next?
But... this was nice. To have a few isolated moments in time to rest in the arms of his God, to be safe and protected...
This is horribly undignified, he thought. But it failed to rise to the surface, and he remained still and quiet save for the gentle purring which accompanied the rise and fall of his chest.
Odo didn't know where they were going either, he realized once Weyoun began to doze. If there was trouble of any sort, he would have no choice but to rouse his companion. But, the precious gift of someone trusting him enough to lay his very life in his hands this way... It was a foreign feeling, being trusted. Almost as foreign as being worshipped. But even so, it was... a little bit soothing, as though caring for and providing for another was something he'd always been meant to do.
He cradled Weyoun, holding him carefully in a position where he was most supported, and he kept tight control of his thoughts so as not to hurt or overwhelm him, and when bits of dream were shared with him, he savored them as the precious gifts they were and tried not to let it make him even more worried about losing this connection he was forming. He stayed like that for several hours.
"Weyoun. Weyoun, another ship is hailing us--I'm unfamiliar with you vessel's controls."
Weyoun startled and awoke immediately, smoothing a few wrinkles in his jacket. "The Voice to whom this servant is Blessed to attend—" the word Blessed being pronounced in such a way that a complete foreigner to Dominion ways would have been able to pick up on its importance— "is almost certainly expecting her Attendant to respond. One will do so, with the Founder's consent?"
Asking Odo's consent was mostly a formality— a necessary one, but a formality all the same— for, of course, the wishes of his Beloved Voice took precedence over all, even the wishes of other Founders. Though, really, to say that was a gross oversimplification. The Founders' needs could not conflict, for their unity was absolute. What appeared to be a conflict to Weyoun was just the straining of a solid mind which could not comprehend the utter synchrony of the Many as One and One as Many.
It was simply that his Beloved Voice's edicts were the code by which he could best live in accordance with that perfection.
He answered the hail, and when the one he served came on screen, his entire demeanor changed. His posture became rigid and still, more rigid and more still than Odo had seen him in the brief time in which they'd known each other. His tail coiled tightly around his legs, as if restraining him in place. And when he bowed, arms open at his sides, he seemed smaller and more vulnerable than he had thus far.
"Beloved Voice!" Weyoun stammered, all trace of assertiveness gone from his tone. "One is honored with this chance to serve. How may this servant be of use?"
The Voice appraised him with a stare that seemed faraway, but Weyoun knew better. Though the eyes of her solid shape were distant, her receptors pierced him like a thousand tiny knives. Then, she saw Odo, and all the tension melted from her.
"You've done well, Weyoun," she said, a sliver of ice in her voice. Her bearing was regal, commanding— one got the sense that command was the very essence of who she was, the understanding she had of herself and the understanding with which she was regarded by the ocean of which she was but one small drop. Weyoun sensed none of this, though. It was not his place. "Leave us. I would speak to the estranged one alone, before we meet upon the shore."
Me? Hurting myself by watching Treachery, Faith, and the Great River again? Yeah. Poor baby boy deserves the universe.
YES HE DOES.
starter for @sixthweyoun because eir playlist gave me too many feelings again
Weyoun was reaching the end of his life. Odo could see this--had been seeing this for many months now--and yet he could do absolutely nothing to stop it. Vanath could no longer find anything specific to heal, because Weyoun's body had just... gotten old. The helplessness Odo felt in response to this was indescribable.
Slowly, he reached out and ran his fingers through Weyoun's faded hair. He'd always been physically affectionate with his attendant, but even so, he'd been doing that especially often lately, just to feel him, still alive, still here.
For now.
"Are you warm enough?" he asked, fussing again in a reversal of their usual roles that neither of them particularly cared for.
Vanath stayed beside Weyoun's lifeless form for a while longer, mostly to support Odo. As a science line, she wasn't the most empathetic or the best at offering emotional support, but she was determined to be that for her Founder in his grief.
"It's not Vorta custom, but the culture of the Dominion is more multifaceted than it may seem. There's a Dominion member civilization with a custom of breaking down the bodies of their dead into carbon, then pressing the carbon into a diamond." Weyoun had actually been the one to tell her about them. He'd mentioned that such a custom was almost declared anathema due to its clear veneration of solid form over dissolution, but a clever Vorta religious engineer had reframed it as an act of worship towards the order of things. "I think Weyoun-6 would have liked that."
She smiled, receiving the Founder's praise and gratitude. "Your pride in me is an honor and a blessing, Founder. I hope to always be worthy of it."
Yes, that would do. He nodded his agreement and, briefly, considered reaching out to touch her face. He would like to hope he could hold back his flood of emotions from affecting her, but it felt unlikely, and he'd hate to burden her with his pain. The most important thing was to make sure she knew she was neither alone nor forgotten, which could, likely, be accomplished with only words. "I'll be in my quarters. Come to me if you need, or when we arrive at the cloning facility. Any need, Vanath. Even if it is just a need to not be alone."
Vanath nodded, and once Odo had gone, she cleaned and decontaminated the medbay, placing the body of Weyoun-6 in a cryogenic preservation container for the time being.
Unlike Odo, she didn't have any particular attachment to the body— Weyoun-7b would be waiting for her at the cloning facility, and things would pick up basically where they left off. But the Founder had made his wishes known, and she'd comply. Between their current location and the cloning facility, the ship would make a stop on Xulea IV, where Weyoun-6's mortal form would be consecrated and prepared according to local custom, and the Founder would come away with a diamond pendant as a memento of his dear friend and servant.
After a moment of meditation, she entered the Founder's quarters.
"I thought some company was warranted," she said softly. "For us both."
starter for @sixthweyoun because eir playlist gave me too many feelings again
Weyoun was reaching the end of his life. Odo could see this--had been seeing this for many months now--and yet he could do absolutely nothing to stop it. Vanath could no longer find anything specific to heal, because Weyoun's body had just... gotten old. The helplessness Odo felt in response to this was indescribable.
Slowly, he reached out and ran his fingers through Weyoun's faded hair. He'd always been physically affectionate with his attendant, but even so, he'd been doing that especially often lately, just to feel him, still alive, still here.
For now.
"Are you warm enough?" he asked, fussing again in a reversal of their usual roles that neither of them particularly cared for.
Vanath stayed beside Weyoun's lifeless form for a while longer, mostly to support Odo. As a science line, she wasn't the most empathetic or the best at offering emotional support, but she was determined to be that for her Founder in his grief.
"It's not Vorta custom, but the culture of the Dominion is more multifaceted than it may seem. There's a Dominion member civilization with a custom of breaking down the bodies of their dead into carbon, then pressing the carbon into a diamond." Weyoun had actually been the one to tell her about them. He'd mentioned that such a custom was almost declared anathema due to its clear veneration of solid form over dissolution, but a clever Vorta religious engineer had reframed it as an act of worship towards the order of things. "I think Weyoun-6 would have liked that."
She smiled, receiving the Founder's praise and gratitude. "Your pride in me is an honor and a blessing, Founder. I hope to always be worthy of it."
starter for @sixthweyoun because eir playlist gave me too many feelings again
Weyoun was reaching the end of his life. Odo could see this--had been seeing this for many months now--and yet he could do absolutely nothing to stop it. Vanath could no longer find anything specific to heal, because Weyoun's body had just... gotten old. The helplessness Odo felt in response to this was indescribable.
Slowly, he reached out and ran his fingers through Weyoun's faded hair. He'd always been physically affectionate with his attendant, but even so, he'd been doing that especially often lately, just to feel him, still alive, still here.
For now.
"Are you warm enough?" he asked, fussing again in a reversal of their usual roles that neither of them particularly cared for.
It had been a good life. And a long one, longer than Vorta were usually allowed to live— even knowing that Odo had intended to provide for him throughout his natural life, he'd still somehow expected to be terminated long before this point. But it was almost over.
Vorta didn't fear death, as a rule. They were allowed, by the mercy of the Founders, to keep more self-preservation instinct than the Jem'Hadar, as their duties were often too complex to be passed down to a successor before a reasonable stopping point was reached (even if that successor was just their own next iteration). But they also knew that, most of the time, death was a temporary condition.
"I think some chills are to be expected," he faintly said, pressing his head weakly into the Founder's hand. Even now, his instinct was to seek comfort. "But... Yes. I think I'm as warm as I can be." He managed a subtle smile, warmed beyond what his body was capable of sustaining by Odo and Vanath's continued care. He knew that Odo hated being powerless— all Founders did— but Odo wasn't powerless, not really. He'd given Weyoun a long life, and a happy one. They'd gone from Founder and Attendant to something more like family. And Vanath had been the first member of his species he'd truly bonded with after Kilana. Both of them had given him so much. And would continue to, when he was brought back.
"Is everything— is everything arranged?" he asked, pausing to catch his breath. Vorta were prone to shortness of breath at the best of times— usually, this problem could be managed with a rescue inhaler— but he'd found that in old age, it'd started getting much harder to mitigate. "Because one wouldn't want the Founder to go too long without an Attendant." The Ceremonial dialect was spoken with a teasing, familiar inflection that conveyed affection moreso than formality. "Can't have that."
"Everything is arranged," he assured, continuing to stroke his hair. Odo was sad--painfully so--and frightened, because so many things could go wrong, in transferring Weyoun's memories to his new iteration. But he'd stopped denying the reality of the loss he was about to face some days ago, and they had already changed course toward the cloning facility. Vanath had handled the arrangements, because Odo was too emotional to do so with his usual competency, but he'd looked everything over, and he'd made plans, for the new clone's activation.
He couldn't entirely hide his sorrow, but he pushed it back in favor of the warmth and love and appreciation he wanted to share with his companion, and gently, Odo took Weyoun's hand and embraced him in a pseudo-Link.
Don't leave me, don't leave me, I'm not ready.
It ran in a loop in the back of his mind, only partially shielded from Weyoun. He never had been very good at fully hiding anything from him. "If you only asked it of me, I would give you anything in my power," he said, as though he hadn't already ensured Weyoun had everything he could want. "There must be something."
Even if he'd wanted to, Weyoun didn't have the strength to moderate how deeply his connection with Odo went. It was a needed escape, and he surrendered to it fully— perhaps he would simply drift off like this, in the embrace of the one who had given him so much and shown him more love and care than he ever believed he deserved. To be a violet pinprick against an expanse of gold felt freeing. His body no longer fazed him.
I'll be back, Weyoun reassured. It's like falling asleep in this body and waking up again in the next one.
Even with Weyoun's efforts, Odo had never gotten used to the Vorta cloning process. In a strange way, he was grateful for that. He'd spent the majority of his lives being treated as a useful tool, with each activation undertaken as casually as replacing a part. To Odo, every version of him was unique and to be treasured.
"Founder, you have given me everything I could ever want and more," he whispered, conviction evident in his voice. "I am blessed to be beside you. All I ask is that you allow me to stay beside you forevermore."
"There is nothing in this universe that could prevent that."
Odo decided then to maintain the pseudo-Link until Weyoun passed, to provide him as much comfort as possible. If he had to regenerate again before that occurred, the link would be somewhat diminished during that time, but he would stay in contact even then.
He embraced his attendant more fully and rested his forehead against Weyoun's shoulder. If you don’t return to me, I'll mourn for the rest of time.
It took him several more minutes to muster up the courage to offer the next words. But sleep well.
I will return, Weyoun replied. He breathed as deeply as he could, feeling the heaviness settle into his limbs and his chest. It wouldn't be long now. Not in this body, but I'll be beside you again, like I never left.
This death would be a peaceful one, in a sea of short lives with brutal ends. He was thankful for that. Thankful to be cared for by so many loving hands, the Founder's and Vanath's, even in his body's final moments. Thankful, most of all, for the Founder's gentle and calming presence, which still lingered at the edges of his mind.
Vanath, ever dutiful, monitored his vitals from beside his bed. "Heart rate and brain activity are slowing," she quietly said. "He probably can't hear you, but he should still be telepathically receptive for a little longer."
@sixthweyoun sent:
⌚ for a starter where an older version of my muse meets eirs
Odo had swapped places with his younger self months ago, and had, at least so far, come to terms with not changing the timeline. But as soon as Weyoun was in his sight... it was so much harder. He watched his attendant for a day or so, and stayed quiet, acting as he was supposed to. But when Weyoun spoke to him, when he requested an audience...
"I have to admit, I find it somewhat disturbing, seeing you working for these Federation people. Letting them order you around. You are a Founder--you should be the one giving the orders."
And oh, his precious Weyoun. He smiled, ever so slightly, his form softening as the mask of his younger self gave way somewhat to the detail of experience. "And I find it somewhat disturbing to see you fulfilling a role so far from what you were trained to do. It doesn't suit you well, Weyoun. The stress is visible." And then he's reaching out, the tips of his fingers just brushing Weyoun's cheek, transferring the gentlest of pride and sympathy and love. "But we each have our burdens to bear."
Weyoun stood motionlessly, the confidence of a few moments ago replaced with pure humility and love. Who was this? He'd been told, when given this assignment, that the estranged Founder known as Odo would not take kindly to such a reminder of his position, and might even dismiss it completely. That was clearly a description of a completely different Founder than the one who stood before him now. This one... this one looked at him and seemed to know him, in a way that not even his Beloved Voice knew him. There was real compassion there, of a kind he'd only received in small and fleeting moments.
"It is... it is true that I'm not specialized for field command," he said, resenting the Federation's flattening of his attempt at formal speech. "But if I may ask, how did you know this? My beloved Voice told me that you had not been raised to know the order of things."
The widening of Weyoun's eyes to betray his adoration was all that Odo had been longing for these past weeks, and if he'd had any less self-control, he'd have threaded his fingers through his hair and pulled him into the embrace they both needed. Unfortunately, his priorities didn't allow it. At least not now.
When he spoke, Odo saw the discomfort for what it was, but did nothing. As much as he longed to surround Weyoun in every possible comfort, including that of his preferred language, it would give too much away. "Our beloved Voice, honored though she may be, cannot know everything." He paused, but he couldn’t leave things there. He stroked Weyoun's cheek more firmly, lingering in the surface-level connection it provided, then he said, "Be careful. Those you command are dangerous. Not to the Order, I don't think, but to you. I don't want you to be harmed." He paused again, conflicted. "Would you like me to step in with them? The Federation can't know my involvement, but if this is moving past your abilities, there's no shame in that."
Weyoun looked down, feeling something somewhere between reverence and embarrassment. This Founder who was and was not Odo seemed concerned. That was not something he'd ever felt from those he served.
"With respect, Founder, you shouldn't worry about me. I'll return anew when my Beloved Voice has need of me again, and the men are... unlikely to listen to you." He took a deep breath. "They see you only as the one who—" Killed one of your own, he thought but didn't say. "But you can't be. You shine with the wisdom and grace of the Ineffable."