Worf's breath was heavy, and he was sweating as he picked up the blade. For an instant, he regretted not killing Thopok, but he restrained himself. The Lady was waiting. He went down on one knee in front of her, and held out the sword. She tried to hide it, but her eyes betrayed how pleased she was. They were beautiful eyes, as deep and blue and mysterious as a lake at dusk. Worf burned with desire. The eyes urged him on.
She took the blade and handed it to her servant. Then she dismissed the other one. Worf's anticipation grew with the fading footsteps. When the doors closed, he heard yelling, and her hands closed around his throat. He basked in the strength of her fingers. I could die like this, he thought, and for a moment, it seemed like there was all the pleasure in the world, looking up into that beautiful face while she squeezed the breath from within him. Then he broke her grip.
As he clasped her throat, she staggered. His heart was pounding and he was riding on a wave of adrenaline. This was incredible. Amazing. As opened his mouth to scream in the glory, the throat in his hands melted, and the empty holosuite appeared before him. He felt drained. Devastated. He fought not to cry out in anger.
"Congratulations, you did it," Dax said curtly, and he quickly snapped out of his reverie. He tried to hide his disappointment as he turned towards her.
"What does she see in that parasite?" he demanded. He did not really expect a response. He felt frustrated; he had been so close to living his fantasy, but at the same time so far away.
His fantasy. The fantasy. It had started as a teenager, when he realized that he had little chance of meeting a Klingon girl on Earth. So he had concoted a reason, as set of circumstances under which he might meet one. K'Tiya, he imagined, was being forced by her dishonourable father to marry a man she did not love in order to gain political power for his house. Being a brave young girl, she chose to flee as opposed to acting without honour. Somehow, she had made her way to Earth, and somehow, she had met Worf. And, of course, as soon as they had met, they fell in love.
In the time between sleep and wakefulness, Worf had spent hours perfecting K'Tiya's appearance. One night, she had blond hair, the next night it was black. Her eyes got progressively darker until they were the perfect shade of green. Her build was thick, but not overlarge. Worf wanted her to be the sort of girl who thought things out, not a spoiled brat who always got her way though force.
The next step in the fantasy was that K'Tiya's father found her. Or sometimes it was her uncle. It was so much easier to imagine an uncle being cruel to his niece than a father being cruel to his daughter. K'Tiya, of course, would state that she would rather die than leave Worf. Then, they would go to the homeworld to resolve the dispute.
Once home, a brave and valiant fight would ensue. The relative, of course, would be a worthy opponent, perhaps even a decorated warrior, but in the end, love and honour would conquer all and the teenage Worf would disarm him. Then, poised to kill, he would hear K'Tiya cry out for her beloved family member. At this point, Worf usually pretended it was the father, as he liked to think that any girl he loved would have no qualms about slaying an evil uncle. Hearing the girl's cries, he would spare the man, drop to his knees and give the weapon to his daughter. She would return the blade on the condition that he accepted Worf into the family, and followed his good example in restoring the family to honour. The father would agree, and leave the room defeated but ready to make a fresh start. Hot sex followed.
Worf sighed. Now Dax was yelling angrily about something. She had been doing a lot of that in the past few days. She just didn't seem to understand that unlike her, he did not have tonnes of opportunities for romance, and it was upsetting to see one pass. Opportunity. He thought he heard that word in there somewhere. Oh well. Dax was probably just upset to have the attention directed away from her for a change.
"He would have to be blind not to see it!" he retorted, and turned around. He didn't want her to see his face.
"Today is a good day to die!" he heard Dax yell. Or at least he though he did. Stunned, he turned around.
"Today is a good day to die," she repeated, sounding angry. For the first time all week, he understood why. This could work, he though quickly. It wasn't what he had been looking for, or dreaming of, but maybe it had a fleeting chance of working anyway. He smiled. She was very attractive when angry.
"The day is not over yet, Lukara," he bellowed.
"Would you kill me too?"
Worf paused. It didn't seem appropriate to invite her to kill him if she didn't want him, seeing that he had been pursuing another woman two minutes ago. He bared his teeth and clashed his blade against her a couple of times while he thought.
"I smell the burning of your blood," he said quickly.
"No, the fire is all your doing," she replied.
At this, he moved to disarm her. He thought he had succeeded until he felt the floor hit his back, and Dax's hands tighten around his throat. Pushing them away, he throttled her. She struggled and dug her nails into his wrists. It was strangely seductive. He pushed harder, and finally, she bowed her head. Worf smiled. The day was not over yet. This was going to be good.