Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

Vamshi gazed lovingly down at Weyoun's sleeping face. It was so peaceful, so content. Even in the last days of his life, he found cause to smile. His jet-black hair had faded into a steely gray, and she could glimpse a cool undertone of purple in it even. His eyelashes fluttered a little in his sleep, and she lightly traced the age around his eyes. The very top of his nosebridge still wrinkled as he winced at something in his dreams, and she smiled at that. Permanent laugh lines were etched around his mouth, and she pressed her lips to his. He awoke.

He blinked the sleep out of his bleary eyes before he spoke. "Why are you smiling like that?" he rasped.

Her eyes twinkled in response. "Oh, its just that I can see the happiness in your face," she whispered, pressing her forehead to his and holding his face in her hands. "No disappointment, no worries...just happiness and peace."

"I've lived one-hundred and twelve years under the wings of a god," he breathed back. "What cause do I have for worry? You keep me safe..."

She leaned down and kissed the ridges of his ears. "I love you, Weyoun. Even now, after one-hundred and twelve years, my love is so much that I can hardly stand it."

A satisfied smile graced his lips. "You can give that love to the Link...it won't be long now..."

"Every Changeling will know your name, my love," she murmured back, tracing his gray eyebrow. "You're the Vorta that attracted a god."

A soft, rasping chuckle issued from his throat. "A celebrity, eh?" He coughed and closed his eyes.

She laughed a little and stroked his hair. "Do you remember what I told you when we won the war?"

He nodded. "You told me to serve you not with actions, but with kisses instead, to worship you not with bows, but with love and an eagerness to learn..."

"That's right," she replied softly. "And I do want you to know that you've served and worshiped me well."

"I have?" The hope in his voice clenched her insides. She gazed deeply into his piercing eyes.

"Yes...more than you know."

"Vamshi?" He took a few rasping breaths before continuing. "Can a make a last request?"

"Name it."

"When I die," he breathed, looking up at her, "I'd like to die surrounded by you, in your natural state...if that's not too much to ask?" His eyes betrayed his thoughts, and she knew he felt he might have stepped over the line. She simply smiled.

"I would do anything for you, my love. I will gladly do this last request for you."

She scooted further onto the bed and worked her arms underneath Weyoun's body, transforming them as she went.

"Whatever blessings you wanted from me, you had them before you could even ask for them. Whatever approval you wanted, you never needed. Surely by now you know that I'd rather give you my love than any blessing?"

"I know," he replied, smiling at the sensation of her surrounding every inch of him.

"You'll die like no other Vorta has, my love. Please...if you concentrate hard enough, you can feel my love pulsating through my being...it was always been that way."

Almost all of her body was transformed now, and she whispered her last words into his ear.

"Go now and rest in peace, Weyoun. Know that I will carry this love for you in me always. I love you more than any other person I have encountered in all my days, and you will always be first in my heart."

He closed his eyes and let the joyful tears run down his cheeks. She completed her transformation, covering him in a living, pulsating cocoon. He felt the gentle caresses all over his body, and he breathed her in, breath after breath, hour after hour.

Five hours later, the last, rattling breath of life left his soft, pale lips.

…

The last of the well-wishers disappeared over the hill, but Vamshi stayed behind and knelt before the pure white stone of the grave. Many people had attended his funeral, as Federation citizens remembered that he helped the them prevail over the Dominion, and the grandchildren and great-grandchildren of those who were there when the treaty was signed came to thank him one last time on behalf of all the Federation. Humans, Vulcans, Bolians, Bajorans, even a few Cardassians had dotted the crowd, but now one lonely Changeling was left underneath the swaying branches of an old oak tree.

"Goodbye, my love," she whispered, brushing off a leaf that had fallen on the tombstone. "Sleep in peace."

She walked away, following the others over the hill, satisfied in the epitaph etched upon the pure white stone.

Here lies Weyoun.

My love and blessings be upon you always. Rest in peace.

-V.T.