A/N: This is ties into my other one-shots, "With Fire and Steel" and "Hybrid." But you don't need to read those to understand this story.
This story disregards all non-canon material, including re-launch novels and "Star Trek: Online." It also disregards my now deleted fic "The Twenty-Sixth Year."
Final note: I'm inventing a few details about Klingon subcultures. We know from canon that there are variations in Klingon beliefs, rituals and foreheads; my interpretation is that Qo'noS consists of a number of cultures and ethnicities, just like Earth.
I don't own "Star Trek."
"Why is it such a big deal, what kind of wedding ceremony it is?" B'Elanna exclaimed. "Last time I checked, a Hu'Rass wedding is just as common as a Kethra one!"
Across the room, Worf huffed angrily. "Common among common people, perhaps. But Alexander is of the house of Martok. And if your daughter is indeed the Kuvah'magh, you should hold her in no less esteem." The old Klingon made no effort to hide his distain in the last sentence.
B'Elanna cocked her head at him, her gray-streaked hair flailing. "My daughter's wedding is not going to revolve around what one colony in the Delta Quadrant thinks of her! And Alexander's shouldn't be based on his social standing. This is a family event!"
"Your family's, it seems."
B'Elanna could only stare in disbelief.
She and Worf stood in the sitting room of the latter's house on Qo'noS. When Alexander had proposed to Miral, B'Elanna had been almost as excited as her daughter, having grown fond of the boy. But a consequence of this marriage was getting to know Worf, and that had put a roadblock in her enthusiasm.
B'Elanna had already struggled to respect Worf, who she found to be a walking Klingon stereotype. B'Elanna truly felt that Worf contributed to why so many non-Klingons in Starfleet imagined their people as growling, huffing, permanently teeth-barring Neanderthals, barking nonstop about "honor" in a monotone voice while glaring under angry eyebrows. Meeting less stereotypical Klingons, like the regal Martok and Sirella, the jolly opera singers at Klingon restaurants, and the spunky, humorous Grilka, had gone words to helping B'Elanna overcome her own prejudice against her mother's species. She'd begun to take Worf's behavior as a personal embarrassment, much of the time.
And that was just the frosting on the blood pie; after Miral had begun to date Alexander, the young man had begun to confide in B'Elanna about his issues with his mother's death, and his father's…well, everything.
"My family?" B'Elanna replied finally. "My family—Miral's family—is only one-forth Klingon! We're doing this for Alexander, for you!"
"But you want to conduct the ceremony," Worf grunted. "You, who rejected your Klingon heritage growing up. That is, until you had the opportunity to be the mother of the Kuvah'magh."
B'Elanna's jaw dropped. "You think we chose that? We—ask Kohlar himself, he didn't take the scriptures literally! He wanted to help his people find a home and we helped him!"
"Helped him to deceive an entire population," Worf challenged. "Of course, cults do operate on deception."
B'Elanna rolled her eyes. "I'm not getting into a religious debate with you. Especially not for a religion no one in my family even follows!" As Worf turned away with another huff, B'Elanna argued, "Don't you think Alexander would rather spend the ceremony being welcomed into his wife's family, rather than just being reminded of his social status on Qo'noS yet again?"
"Why do you keep bringing up Alexander?" Worf demanded.
B'Elanna shrugged. "I don't know, he's marrying my daughter? I figure I should have his interests in mind. Someone should."
"How dare you! You know nothing of parenting Alexander."
"I know what it's like to be abandoned by your father," B'Elanna said icily over folded arms. "And I also know what it's like to have a parent constantly drilling Klingon dogma into you day and night, chastising you for daring to have any human habits, until you can't stand to be around anything Klingon!"
"I never abandoned Alexander!" Worf roared. "I sent him to Earth for his own protection!"
"He didn't always see it that way." B'Elanna's hand came up diplomatically. "Worf, I'm not saying you did abandon him. My point is that I sympathize with Alexander. You asked why I kept bringing him up and I was answering." B'Elanna watched the aged warrior pace his living room. "You're right," she felt her voice soften, impressing herself with how well she'd overcome the anger-problems of her youth, "I'm not fully Klingon. It's just like I said, I want to do this to connect to your family, the thing we have in common."
"You play at being Klingon," Worf accused, "Just as you played at being the mother of a prophet."
"Who's playing at—What? What's 'Klingon,' a job you train for? We are Klingon! Alex and Miri's wedding would be a Klingon one if happened in a Ferengi Dabo house!"
"Then you know nothing of being Klingon. Being a Klingon is not simply a matter of genetics!"
"This is ridiculous." B'Elanna said. "There's no one 'Klingon' culture, anymore than there's one Earth culture. We're right back where we started. A wedding conducted by the bride's mother has just as much cultural significance for our species as one conducted by your house matriarch!"
It was like a Jew accusing a Christian of not having a "real human wedding" because the groom didn't stomp on a glass. And she was tempted to say so, except that she had a feeling Worf neither knew, nor cared, what a "Jew" or a "Christian" was.
Worf finally seemed to simmer down, and folded his arms, mirroring B'Elanna's pose across from him. "Alexander is a Kethra Klingon. In the Kethra Province, a Kethra wedding would be the norm."
"Well with all due respect Worf, Miral is a Kel'Daan Klingon. And if I'm not mistaken, so was Alexander's mother."
Worf shot her a look. K'Ehleyr was a touchy subject for, well, everyone. She had been Worf's first mate, murdered when Alexander was a child. B'Elanna had known her, via a distant friendship, and viewed the older Klingon/human hybrid as a mentor.
"You barely knew her," Worf finally said quietly.
"For ten years," B'Elanna countered. "I can count on one hand the number of times we met in person, but I thought of K'Ehleyr like a big sister." I learned sarcasm from her. She sighed. "Why don't we discuss this with our children, let them decide."
"It's ridiculous Chakotay," B'Elanna spat, pacing her bedroom. "It's like if Seven's family had thrown a fit over her wearing Indian gear at your wedding, instead of a white Victorian dress! And called it 'less Human!'"
Over the monitor, her old friend sipped is coffee slowly. At first glance, he'd hardly be recognizable as Voyager's former first officer, with his now silver hair pulled into a long braid. And yet (not surprisingly) at age seventy-something, he still looked like he could kill you with one punch. B'Elanna wouldn't have minded seeing him go a few rounds with that p'tach Worf, except that he was a tribal elder now, which might be like tossing a priest into the ring.
"Sounds familiar," he said at last. "I remember when one of my cousins was getting married, when I was eleven. Her father was even worse than mine. He disdained the groom's family for practicing 'the White Man's religion.'"
B'Elanna made a face. "But his wasn't exactly an authentic Indian belief system either, was it?"
"Far from," Chakotay said. "As my mother's parents often reminded us."
B'Elanna recalled how Chakotay's mother was the "real Indian," with the ancient tribes in her family tree, while his father was from the tribe of twenty-fourth-century reconstructionists. (Or "New Age Hippies," as some referred to them.)
"I was wondering," Chakotay said, with a tone that indicated he was deviating from the subject at hand, "I know I've asked you this before. But you and Worf, you're different 'races,' aren't you? I mean, different Klingon ethnicities?"
B'Elanna nodded. "Worf's a Kethran; they're the ones with the wrinkled, scrunched up ridges. My mother was from the Kel'Daan region. Kel'Daan Klingons tend to have thinner, more clean-cut ridges. Then there's the Quin'Tel, whose ridges just look like a bunch of bumps—Kohlar was one of those—and the Regas, whose ridges are much smaller, more like a segmented line running down the middle of the forehead—"
"I get the idea," Chakotay said. "Have you talked to Miral?"
"We have. She says she doesn't care. She just wants Worf to approve of her."
"Do you think he does?"
"I don't know, Chakotay. Worf was always respectful to us, whenever we saw him at a Klingon or Federation event, but he's been very stoic around Miral lately. Passive aggressive even."
"That's a good start," Chakotay gestured with his mug. "If he's at least making an effort to hide his negative feelings."
B'Elanna just shook her head.
"I want B'Elanna to conduct our wedding," Alexander argued.
"You say that only because B'Elanna wants it," Worf countered.
"No! I want to be taken into Miral's family, by her family!"
Worf paused, then nodded. "You would." Turning away, he growled, "It would be a good way to prove your worth as a Klingon, to be married to the Kuvah'magh, by the mother of the Kuvah'magh."
"You think I'm marrying Miral for her status?" he came around to face his father.
"I don't see why else you would pursue a woman three-fourths human, after all the effort you've made to prove yourself a warrior."
Alexander could almost laugh at his father's hypocrisy. "Maybe the same reason you fell for Jadzia and my mother."
Worf glared at him fiercely. "What do you mean?"
"K'Ehleyr was half-human. Jadzia was a Trill. There was also that half-Romulan woman, and Deanna Troi… for someone so obsessed with being Klingon, you sure have an aversion to Klingon women."
Accepting defeat, Worf took a seat on the bench near the window. "I was…raised by humans. Despite my fascination with my Klingon background, I…suppose I still seek refuge with non-Klingon women." He looked at his son. "As you do, with a human/Klingon hybrid, who reminds you of your mother."
"The only 'status' I want to gain from marrying Miral is being a member of the Paris-Torres family. Where they don't tell their kids how to live," Alexander stopped himself before finishing.
Worf finished for him. "And where they don't abandon their children, to live alone on a planet where there are no others of their species." The Klingon breathed in deeply. "B'Elanna and Tom are lacking in discipline. Yet, they compensate in other areas."
Alexander chose not to challenge this. He thought it was commendable, that B'Elanna and Tom didn't try to talk Miral out of her risky lifestyle as long as she accepted the consequences, that they didn't chastise her younger brother Robbie for dropping out of Starfleet Academy. But his father's temper was finally waning, and Alexander didn't want to add any more fuel to the fire.
Instead, he tried, "What would Jadzia or Deanna say? What would my mother say?"
"They would say…that it is time to accept a new daughter. Whatever embarrassing cult may come with her."
"Those Klingons are in the Delta Quadrant," Alexander reminded his father. "All the ones who took the Kuvah'magh scriptures seriously enough to go find her, at least."
Worf nodded, staring off into space. "I'll have to contact B'Elanna again. There is much about conducting a Klingon wedding ceremony she is not familiar with."
When Worf's face appeared on the monitor, B'Elanna made every effort to keep her own placid and attentive.
The old Klingon's fierce eyes gave no indication of his current mood. Finally, he spoke. "It is an unlikely fortune that our families should unite. You have many insights into Alexander's perspective that I might utilize. I…may have been wrong, in many of the ways I treated him when I was raising him."
B'Elanna was startled, almost frightened (oddly) to hear Worf admit this to her so sincerely. Searching for some faults in her own past arguments, to even the score, she offered, "You kept contact with him at least. You never abandoned him, not like my father did me."
"Still. I shouldn't have harassed him for enjoying his human quarter." Worf hesitated. "It must have been difficult, in many ways, to have to take on the role of a religious figure you yourself did not entirely believe in. Yet, you filled the role convincingly. I believe you will conduct our children's wedding ceremony with equal valor. Though you will need my guidance."
B'Elanna felt her lips split into a grin. "Then we better get started."
A/N: Maybe pointless drabble. But I keep noticing parallels between B'Elanna's story and some of the Klingons on TNG and DS9. This is likely due to the writers running out of ideas, or maybe just wanting to expand on old ones; but still, the opportunities for crossovers are too enticing. What really compelled me to write this ficlett was when I read about Alexander's life on Memory Alpha, and realized just how much Worf's treatment resembled things Miral and John Torres did to B'Elanna.
Much thanks, as usual, to Memory Alpha.