Usually, I do strong, already developed female OCs for the leading men like Weyoun or Herbert West (both played by the fabulous Jeffrey Combs) - and Weyoun is this case, given during the occupation of Terok Nor, he takes a young human woman under his arm and claims her. This lady is a complete mystery in her origins other than the fact she entertains for a living, reciting old songs and tales to keep life as meaningful as it is. I based her off of myself, and her name is a variation of mine. :D And no, I am not intending to make her a Mary Sue, either.

The story is named after a song by Enya. And I own nothing of this except my OC.

Chapter One

The Vorta's Kiss

Tera was a complete mystery apart from how everyone knew her as aboard Deep Space 9. No birthname, but her known age was around early twenties, and she was the sweetest, most beautiful sight for a human everyone had ever seen.

Striking and statuesque, she was a free spirited singer and artist who went about as she pleased, as long as no trouble was caused, of course. Not like she had the gall to cause havoc on the Promenade. Constable Odo seemed to like her when he came to watch her sing, allowed her permission to perform when the right time was available; even Quark, the obnoxious Ferengi, had her scheduled in his bar on occasion.

Despite her intriguing past, she was adored by everyone.

She had no known family, as a part of it. She could barely remember them herself, only that she had a few possessions left with her as a baby. One was the necklace she wore, and two rings. Hardly much of anything else other than a collection of music and stories that captured her soul and she had to pass on to others to make their time worthwhile. In exchange, it made her own life worthwhile.

She wasn't unhappy, strangely enough, which the other beings noticed. Was there ever anything that hurt her feelings at least?

Her freedom taken from her was what she feared most, but to reveal that to anyone - save for the few you really trusted most - would prove to be a most tactical error. She had gone from place to place in her life, and each time made her stronger. She learned everything she did on her own. She had several friends, but she never had a relationship that lasted longer than a few months at most. She loved her independence more than anything, but that did not stop her from imagining some dashing man - no matter his species - coming her way someday. She was young in and out.

When she began to hear about the malicious Dominion, she wasn't sure if she should really be afraid because she never thought the station would ever be taken away by them - and then the alliance with Cardassia made it worse...and a war broke out that Captain Sisko and the rest of his crew were forced to abandon the station. Bajor signed a non-aggression pact with the Dominion, which meant if the latter attacked, then the former would only sit by and let them get away with it. Tera felt it then: the fear. She did not know what to expect, but she did know that life as she knew it would change.

The Bajorans returned home for their own safety, but that was for three months, and life aboard DS9 - renamed Terok Nor as it was Cardassian once again - was dull because she had no audience to perform for, and Quark allowed her in his bar to sing for the hell of it. It was no fun because of the damned Jem'Hadar and the arrogant Cardassians.

When she did finally get to see the fearsome Jem'Hadar, her blood ran cold, and her heart came so close to stopping numerous times. They were stone-cold monsters in both gazes and appearances, reminding her of the millennium-extinct dinosaurs from Earth's prehistoric times. The Cardassian soldiers were no better, because they hit on her with every chance they had, tried to drunkenly come onto her before Constable Odo came to her rescue. She could never thank the shape-shifter enough.

This time, Odo was not around to save her as another drunken Cardassian officer came onto her while she was at the bar getting her favorite synthale just to relieve the stress she was feeling. "A lady deserves something better like kanar," the man slurred, pushing her half-empty glass out of her hand, his foul breath making Tera scoot backwards.

"Excuse me, but do I know you?"

"Not yet...but you will as soon as we are out of here..."

Blasted Ferengi was not here either, being in the back, and her mouth was slapped over before she could cry for help - and then a voice, cool as ice and strong as the winds to follow sliced through the air. "Unhand her at once!"

Tera's eyes snapped past the Cardassian's shoulder and gasped behind his hand. She'd heard of him, seen him from afar, but NEVER thought she would meet him or find herself in his presence. Her naïve side had wanted to perform originally, get his attention, but Constable Odo warned her that the Vorta ambassador would take her for himself as a prize if that happened. The Dominion saw something you had, and they took by negotiation or by force, so she did her best to keep her distance.

But now Weyoun was here. He saved her from being almost violated by this lizard, who looked his way with wide eyes and instantly backed away, at the sight of the Jem'Hadar with their phasers pointed at him in warning. "Oh, I didn't mean to offend the lady," the man said sarcastically, obviously having no respect for the Vorta or the two soldiers at his command. Gul Dukat and this man might be friends, but their men apparently hated each other, amusing Tera that she couldn't help but giggle to herself.

Her laugh sparked the attention of the Vorta himself, a smile stretching from ear to ear. She wanted to tear her eyes from his - liquid amethyst and dangerous waters, poetic to belong in a song and story - but found she couldn't. Then he reverted back to being serious and cold. "Would you dare to cross me and my men, or would you take this up with Gul Dukat?" he asked, taking a step forward and clasping his hands before him.

The offending Cardassian muttered something under his breath before stalking off, leaving Tera alone with the Vorta. She wanted to get away and fast, but she was stopped by a Jem'Hadar's brute hand on her shoulder, threatening to fracture her fragile bone. "You fool," Weyoun snapped, "let her go. My dear, forgive the Jem'Hadar."

"They're not made to be as nice as you make yourself to be," Tera stated, then regretted it immediately. She had just spoken back to one of the most powerful men in the galaxy. She was as good as dead now.

To her surprise, his laughter burst as his head reared back with sheer amusement. "How amusing that you speak to me in that manner when I just saved your life." He made a waving gesture with his hand, and the Jem'Hadar nodded before leaving him alone. He must have thought she, a little girl, could not pose a threat to him. "What is your name?"

She lifted her chin at him, making him raise his eyebrows. "You will might as well tell me or I will call the Jem'Hadar back," he warned, enjoying every bit of this that it made her angry. She hated men who enjoyed sadism.

"Tera," she answered smartly, running her hands over her smooth white dress; his eyes traveled over her then, taking in the soft plunging neckline and elbow sleeves, the silk-smooth fabric - but she saw no trace of perversion as Cardassian men let their eyes go.

"Tera, fascinating. I have heard that name...the independent artist in all forms of entertainment. Not one you see every day."

Was she supposed to be flattered? She wasn't going to be scared of him right now. "What do you want of me now, Ambassador?" she asked coolly, her skin burning as she continued to look in those mesmerizing eyes. Why was he so...handsome? And why was such an ethereal-looking creature one of the most ruthless dictators, but actually a servant of Odo's people who were all afraid of "solids" and conquered them to make sure none of them laid harm on the Changelings. All of this she heard from those around her, word getting around good and well even though it was a massive space station.

"I wouldn't dream of asking you anything in return," Weyoun stated, raising both hands as if surrendering. "Nor would I ask you to give me something in exchange for saving you from a Cardassian brute. But, please, if I could request one thing of you..."

Tera hissed and sat back on her stool, daring to turn her back to him and raising her drink back to her lips. She was nice to everyone, but what would have it gotten her with this scum who thought he could lure her with sweet words and a nice voice? "What?" she snapped, then stiffened and nearly dropped her glass when he answered her.

"If you could spend one night with me and sing for me, maybe tell me a story of yours - just you and me alone is all I ask."

~o~

Anyone from afar could rapture his interest, but this girl in particular was beyond intriguing for Weyoun. He'd heard of her: Tera, the independent artist, as quoted. Young, innocent and full of life - just what breathed fresh air into his senses. Sometimes one like himself could not bode well.

The last time he had been with a woman was while he was in his second incarnation, with Kilana, but it was not meant to be. A fellow Vorta was out of the question for him for several lifetimes thus far - and he was not the only one - because all the Vorta were made to serve and obey, nothing more. Only Weyoun...he never thought he would use the word lonely until now.

He was tired of being alone.

A few attempts to find a willing mate who was not like him ended in vain as he would be forced to have them executed for trying to escape him, or they would take their own lives to be truly free from him. He savored control, enjoyed seeing others crumble beneath him, but five lifetimes of service were fulfilling if not for the fact he never had one to SHARE it with. All he could ever ask for was companionship, to make his days worthwhile.

Ever since he arrived on Terok Nor, with Dukat and the fool Damar as well as their troops in tow, he found himself looking about at the frightened residents he could only smile pleasantly at from afar, but the fear was present in their eyes. They wouldn't dare to cross, but if they were stupid enough and thought his appearance fooled them apart from rumored words, then they were in for it.

Tera was no exception, but the fire in her eyes sparked his core.

Weyoun frowned when he read about her from the station's history of residents. Why no surname? No birthplace other than somewhere on Earth, no solid career, and no exact birthdate. She was a...mystery. He liked mysteries, he liked challenges, and he liked tough cookies to break - so to speak.

Tera seemed strong with her words and her attitude, and he liked it, too - but she wasn't so strong inside to match the Jem'Hadar, was she? All she would ever be good at was entertainment. Just what Weyoun wanted that the other females before her could not provide. He looked forward to tonight, indeed. She would not see what he was building up inside his brain in store for her. She was a free little spirit - and he looked forward to breaking down her barriers.

He intended to have a cuisine of whatever she might like set up in his quarters, but he had no idea what she liked. He scoured the menu for anything Terran, finding a range of options. There were fascinating dinners called chicken - and a variety at that - as well as steak, pot roast, and so on. Randomly, the chicken was selected for them both. It was spiced with chives and paprika, which smelled delectable, but it was sad he would not be able to taste it. Lemons garnished it at the sides, perhaps for an extra flavor. As for what to drink, well, he could accommodate them both with a fascinating sapphire wine.

The Ferengi and his fool of a brother had leftover data crystals for the replicators that they did not hide well. Cardassians dominated so much that they made the stomachs of non-Cardassians ill and it partially sickened Weyoun. But no matter; he had Dukat under his thumb and looked over his shoulder with every turn he had. If he found out that Ambassador Weyoun was treating a single human girl to what she wanted, then his wrath would be of no concern.

Weyoun smiled at the sight of the cleverly constructed table. These rooms were once Dr. Bashir's, and everything he possessed intrigued the aesthetic-deprived Vorta to no end. Maybe Tera would not mind, but then again, she could say nothing at all. And speaking of which...

"Come in," he called to who was on the other side of the door. When the doors opened and closed, she stood there, uncertain and holding herself in place. The little kitten who needed a bigger feline to protect her.

~o~

She didn't feel like changing out of her clothes as she knew her dress was good enough, as it was only dinner and nothing else - and her singing a song, of course, or whatever he would ask of her. Something told her definitely that he wouldn't let her go after tonight, but she wouldn't think too much of it. Maybe she could do something to prevent him from making her a prisoner of his. Maybe any of her songs and stories could prevent it, like Scheherazade saved herself from her abusive husband.

But even Scheherazade had difficulty whilst facing death at every corner, and she had a younger sister to help her with her stories before she spent each long night with the Sultan. Tera was alone - on second thought, not completely, as Ziyal, her old friend, had returned from Bajor at her father's order, having gone to art school and trained as an artist. She might confide in the half-Bajoran, half-Cardassian woman after tonight, and Odo since he was on the Ruling Council with Weyoun.

She was never afraid to look anyone in the eye, no matter how much she tried not to. Weyoun was no exception, but he was the one where her life as she knew it depended on everything.

He was smiling broadly and sincerely when she entered, spreading his hands on either side of himself. "My dear, I cannot tell you how happy I am you came."

She just wanted tonight done and over with, but she kept the words sealed behind her lips. Tera looked at the table behind him, finally letting her lips part in shock as she saw the fine chicken cuisine and the glasses of sapphire wine made up. He really wanted to please her - but he might be using it against her. She knew that from experience, so she would not let herself become overindulged. "Did you make that?" she asked.

"Oh, no, dear Tera. It's replicated. I'm afraid that my cooking experience on your tastes is quite limited. And the Cardassians really care to rule their menu over all else's."

She snorted. Figured. Normally, men would do the honors of pulling the chair out for her to sit, but he simply stepped aside and allowed her to sit down, then remained behind her until she moved close enough to the table. He was definitely not like the other men she dated briefly - and deep down, this wasn't going to be for only one night or even a month at most.

Surprisingly, she didn't crack the entire evening. He liked to keep pleasant conversation, so anything he asked her made her feel a little easy. She wouldn't forget who and what he was, but as she enjoyed the dinner - replicated as it was - he was making tonight about her. He was treating her well, as an addition for saving her from that Cardassian, but she couldn't take it too lightly. So many men before him were the same, treating her and disposing of her later - but his definition of disposal would mean something much worse than simply saying "good-bye and thank you for your time." Her life was very much on the line if she displeased him in any way.

"My dear, I trust tonight was pleasant enough," Weyoun said conversationally as he reached for her empty dish, but she waved his hand off and picked it up herself to put it back into the replicator to recycle. He frowned at her as he watched her.

"Thank you for this, but I can take care of myself," Tera said coolly. "I've taken care of myself long before I met you."

He chuckled. "Of course. Forgive me for intruding."

She returned the frown. Was he being kind to her so he could earn her sympathy? Why should she feel anything towards him? Or maybe, looking into his eyes and seeing the watery amethyst - the eyes were the windows to the soul - as well as a sorrow that shot her off-guard... "What do you want of me now?" Tera asked suspiciously. "You want to hear a story or a song first?"

Weyoun sat down on the long sofa, gracefully crossing one leg over the other. "Whatever you wish," he answered, and that was it.

"So, this is how it will be," she stated. "I'm Scheherazade and you are the most powerful man I entertain with a story and music."

"...Scheherazade?" he repeated, raising both eyebrows and slacking his jaw. "Who is that?"

His lack of knowledge surprised her. How in the hell was he doing this to her? "You've never heard of the tales of the Arabian Nights?" Tera asked, stunned to her core. Everyone back home knew of these stories, as well as the one of the legendary princess who told them. "You've never heard of the woman who tells them?" He shook his head, brows creasing into a line but didn't scowl. Something inside her melted; he needed some education and entertainment in one. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all once she began with the first story. There were nineteen tales altogether, and Scheherazade had one thousand nights to delay her own execution at the hands of her distrusting husband. Tera might as well follow her example in the manner of telling each magical tale. She sat down before Weyoun, cross-legged and smoothing her skirt out. Her long golden hair was coming undone from its clip, so she pulled it free and let the curls tumble down her back. Weyoun's eyes followed the gesture, but his expression did not change.

"It's one of the greatest gifts I was given and exposed to at a young age," she explained. "Among them are the stories of Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves, Sinbad the Sailor, Aladdin and the Magic Lamp - but to frame them all is the one of Queen Scheherazade, a young and beautiful woman who married the cruel Sultan to save the lives of the other young women in the kingdom. Her father, the Grand Vizier, reluctantly agreed to let her unleash her clever techniques if she was to save not only those around her, but her own life. Each night, she intoxicated him with stories of humor, adventure, drama, reality and the supernatural, as well as love and marriage mingled with power, poverty and the unknown..."

~o~

"Interesting...tell me about Scheherazade and the one thousand and one nights of stories," he'd breathed when she finished her count of this introduction and looked at him, waiting for him to give his permission which pleased him.

Weyoun had enjoyed poetry, history and anything to read to grasp his interest in the little spare times he had - but One Thousand and One Nights was foreign and enrapturing thanks to this stunning and mysterious girl. He could not appreciate her appearance, but everything about her struck him like gold struck a greedy being mining for the precious mineral.

It enthralled him that she obediently - without him telling her to - sat down before him while he reclined on the sofa, and began to tell him the beginning of the Arabian Nights. Several thousands of years ago, there was an Emperor of Persia - yes, Terran tales - and India, known as Shahryar, whose brother's wife betrayed him and therefore his own wife followed the same example. Both women executed, the Sultan himself promised to remarry again and then have his bride executed the morning after the wedding. His wife's infidelity and his brother's drove him mad to believe ALL women were the same. So he carried out the vow, and after a succession of executions of young women, the Vizier's daughter, Scheherazade, offered herself to become the next bride - with more than one trick up her sleeve.

"Her father tried to stop her," Tera stated, looking him in the eyes, the fire burning that it made his body react in such a way that he never expected it to. He hoped to distract himself from this sensation by responding.

"Of course he would, but she was too stubborn and willful, wasn't she?" he pointed out slyly.

This was the first time he got a laugh out of her. "Yes. And on the wedding night, she first met with her younger sister, Dunyazad, and discussed the first story to share with him - none other than of the Bull and the Ass." She stopped there, an obvious blush coming to her cheeks. Giggles escaped her lips that she covered them. He wasn't sure what was so funny about the title. "The last word in the title is a curse word amongst my people, but it is also used to call an animal named the donkey. Anyway, the story goes..."

As he discovered, this one tale was within the story itself - but that was the overall theme of the one thousand nights - and told by the vizier who tried to get Scheherazade to not go through with her scheme, by telling her the story of the ox and the donkey. In it, the donkey would always watch the ox as it toiled its daily task, which was supposed to be the donkey's job and he was asked by the other farm creature how he avoided the suffering task of plowing the fields. His response had been that he played being ill even if he risked punishment, even refused food, in hopes that the ox would follow the example if he could no longer take the slaving away. However, the owner overheard the conversation and therefore forced the donkey to take the ox's place, foiling his devious schemes. Weyoun could hardly believe this clever plan gone wrong; the vizier was trying to stop his daughter from risking her life by giving her an artistic point of view, yet he should have known better than to stop her from doing the right thing.

Enchanted as he was, by the time this story ended, Weyoun found himself asking the computer what time it was - and he jumped along with Tera to the feet. "The time is 2200 hours."

"Twenty-two hundred!" he exclaimed. "I've lost track of time!"

"Storytelling and amusement will do that to you."

Scheherazade certainly reminded him of this woman, only Tera was wary of him and he was no fool, which provided more excitement to the challenge. Telling stories and performing made her happy, and she made those around her happy in return. He wanted that from her. The tale of the ox and the donkey was not the last of it, as Scheherazade had only begun her journey. The next story to come would be that of the fisherman and the jinni, a mythical figure in Middle Eastern folklore - which could wait until tomorrow night.

"Good night then," Tera said as she turned to leave him, but he would not let her go just yet. There was one thing he wanted to do, and it was one weak point of fragile beings to fuel their selves and their desires. Even if she tried to resist him, she would fall under his spell in the event of time.

Weyoun took her hand, pulled her towards him, and planted a full kiss on her lips. She fought against him with futile attempts, but he held her face in his hands and deepened it until her defenses weakened; she let herself be washed over like the ocean waves of Kurill Prime, Earth and Risa.

The chapters are named from now on after songs by Triniti, as well. This one in particular was originally called "Brighid's Kiss", eventually changed to as it is now. The content was inspiration for these events.

I love the 1001 Arabian Nights that I referenced in one previous Batman fic, and it served as the storyline of a Weyoun/Kilana story called "The Divine Lotus". :D In it, Kilana was the role of Scheherazade while Weyoun was the cruel Sultan whom she married - and who threatened her life - and entertained each night with a fantastic tale.

The cover image is a beautiful artwork on deviantart by Iardacil and titled as this story is, and the song by Enya provided its making. :D And it could not have been more perfect for Tera and Weyoun's tale.

I love reviews more than anything, both with great detail and something less but still enough to motivate. :D But no flames, please.