Disclaimer: See Chapter 1. Thank you so much to Fameanon for helping me write this.
Letant took longer than normal in the bathroom, staring at his de-aged visage in the mirror, and it felt somewhat like staring at a stranger. His joints did not ache as they had in his old age, nor did he feel weak and exhausted. He felt young and spry, full of life, and yet he could not stop staring at himself, still wondering why he had been spared the cold of oblivion.
"Nevermind that now," he grumbled to himself, and he brushed his now-clean hair into the neat bob he was used to. "If you've got another lifetime or more here, there will be time enough for existential crisis later."
He shook his head, rubbing his hands over his face, and dressed himself. His clothes were the same style he was accustomed to, though the fabric was thinner and softer than his usual uniform. He felt comfortable enough now to meet this valet of his, and he pulled the cord by the bed.
A young Cardassian man entered his room with a slight smile. "Senator Letant. The queen is awaiting you."
Letant wasn't sure what he was expecting, but a full blooded young Cardassian was not even close. "Ah, you are my valet?"
"Yes, Senator," he said brightly, "and I would have aided you in dressing had you rang. My name is Rugal." He bowed his head. "And I am to take you to the queen."
"Ah, yes. Queen. Now, who would that be?"
The Cardassian laughed. "Why Tora Ziyal, naturally. She has had the kitchen prepare an amazing breakfast for you. And after I will either shop for you or shop with you. You have many personal things to collect, a new wardrobe, jewelry, furnishings for your home." He grinned. "I can hardly wait."
Letant side-eyed the young man. "Indeed." His enthusiasm was a bit cloying, but also strangely endearing. The boy had a true desire to be in this line of work, which boggled the old Romulan's mind.
Tora stood up once her guests arrived; she wore a very simple dress, and her hair was in a traditional Cardassian woman's braid, which made her cut a striking figure, framed against what Letant could only describe as an idealized version of Bajor. Bajor if Cardassia never arrived, and the people had the chance to live in harmony with nature. Letant approached and bowed. "My lady, her royal highness," he said, placing his hand over his heart.
"Oh, how sweet," she replied, holding out her hand. "But unnecessary." He took her hand and she guided him to sit down. "I am the Queen as Rugal probably told you, but I don't stand on such ceremonies." She sat next to him so they could both overlook the mountains. "The prophets told me that you are…" she paused and dismissed the young Cardassian man lingering in the background, "struggling with the idea of being alive."
Letant looked over his plate, and took his cup of red tea in hand. "Well, yes." He sipped the tea to buy himself some time to deflect the subject. "But let's not spoil such a beautiful view and lovely food with dark talk." He cast his bright blue eyes at her, and gave her a charming smile. "Tell me about life here amongst this perfect scene."
Ziyal smiled. "Everyone here can live the life they choose. There is no war or famine, or any hardship. Just peace. Families have been reunited, scars are healed, and we are free to be ourselves and live a life of plenty." She ladled the Romulan version of plomeek soup into a bowl and handed it to him, and followed that up with a plate of Bajoran griddle cakes drizzled in Rigelian honey. "Do you know what sort of life you would like to live here? I may be queen, but we have elected officials of sorts. They meet for political debate every week, and those debates are open to the public. You are free to attend if that is something that appeals to you."
Letant considered it, chewing thoughtfully on a bite of griddle cake. "I will attend, since the queen of this place has so graciously invited me."
All of it seemed too good to be true, and Letant was on the verge of breaking. He did what he always did when times like this came, and focused on the pleasure of food and drink. Ziyal was so gracious and light, and he didn't want to burden her with the darkness of his thoughts. He didn't belong to a place like this, so pure and peaceful. He pushed it down, and focused on the delectable food.
"This is amazing," he purred. "Best breakfast soup I have ever had, and these waffles…oh my!" He growled with an almost sexual pleasure. His taste buds weren't old anymore – they were awake and alive.
"So, we will go on a tour of the city, and I will show you to your home. You will have a gardener, a maid, a cook, and valet. Everything you want can be found on the world, but if you want something more exotic, we can arrange off work shopping." She grinned at him. "My cousin will be joining us soon – well, technically my cousin, but she's basically my sister. She's one of my assistants and has helped set up your home and such."
Letant nodded, placing his napkin in his lap. "So there is off world travel here."
"Of a sorts." She said softly. "We are getting a second chance in this universe, and there are many worlds like this one for various people, including humans, but it's not exactly like the universe you came from. It's a pocket dimension."
"What if…what if I don't belong here, and prove so in some fashion." He asked the question a bit blunter than he wanted, but was unable to hold it back.
"That will be between you and the Prophets." She put her hand on his. "This isn't a punishment, Letant." Her eyes spoke to how much compassion she felt for him.
He swallowed down a retort and finished his breakfast in silence, and after shoveling the last bite of soup in his mouth, he leaned back, sighing in satisfaction. "That was simply delicious, my lady," he purred, at a loss for much else to say. He was spared having to think of anything else when he heard footsteps approaching.
He turned towards the sound, eager to be away from Ziyal's knowing stare, but his lips parted in shock at the sight before him.
A red-haired woman with light Bajoran features and dark brown eyes seemed to almost float to him, an elegance and grace suffusing her every movement. She wore a pale blue dress in the Bajoran style, and her brilliant red waves cascaded down her back like a waterfall.
"Good morning, Senator," the mystery beauty said softly, her voice warm and inviting. He leapt to his feet and straightened his tunic, and he reached out to take her hand. She raised an eyebrow in confusion, but gave her hand regardless. He lightly kissed her knuckles.
"I presume this is the cousin you spoke of, my queen?" he asked over his shoulder to Ziyal.
"This is she. Our mothers were sisters."
"And what shall I call this radiant young woman?" he purred. He hadn't let go of her hand, but the woman - delightful sparks of amusement dancing in her eyes - made no motion to reject his touch.
"My name is Aelis Gen, Senator. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."
He kept hold of just the tips of her fingers as he bowed to her again. "It is my pleasure, Aelis Gen." It was then, as he let go of her fingers, that he felt more than thought that his body was that of a young man again, and he casually draped his napkin over his groin and pulled out the chair for her so she could sit, so even more importantly he can sit again and hide a bit of young man shame.
She took her seat and he gently pushed it in and sat down, his napkin hiding his pants bulge as he mentally forced it away. He had not had to deal with such things in a long time, but it taught him rather quickly that he'd have to manage better. Letant closed his eyes and remembered seeing the Praetor naked rolling around in the mud with a Tellarite, and suddenly the tenseness went away. There was no doubt, however, that she was a stunning creature of great grace and beauty.
"Please, call me Aelis, Senator Letant," she said, taking the food Ziyal handed her for her plate.
"And please, call me Letant. I am in no government anymore."
"Letant it is," she replied. "How is my sister taking care of you?"
"Beyond any expectations I could have." He looked fondly at Ziyal. "The whole thing is…more than I deserve."
"It will take time." Ziyal's voice was laden with an encouragement and empathy that nearly made him wince in shame. "I wasn't in my best place until some time after I got here. I had been enslaved during life and worked in a Breen camp for years. My father bounced me around, and the man who I loved really loved another. Then my father's confidant shot me. Things like this take time to heal. I am sure the struggles of your life will also take time. Aelis, why don't you tell him a little of your own story. It may aid in him in understanding this place better."
Aelis took a deep breath and fixed her dark eyes on Letant. "We have all suffered from the trauma of war, and I am no different." She took another calming breath. "My father was the Betazoid ambassador to Bajor, and was trapped during the Occupation. I was only twenty when I was...procured for some high-ranking Legate. I wouldn't...I didn't want to be with him, so I ran. I called out to the Prophets and put myself in their hands. If life would not give us peace, I would find it in death."
A lock of hair fell in front of her eyes, and he stopped his hand from reaching out to tuck it away. "I am sorry that you had to endure that. I hope your life here has made up for it."
Her face brightened. "I am quite content here, and I know you will be too. Whenever you're ready, we'll depart on our tour."
Seeing as his body was no longer betraying his thoughts, he felt safe to stand, and bowed deeply to Ziyal. "You honor me with your compassion, my lady. Thank you for the meal, and the talk."
"Aelis will show you to your new home after your tour. I'll call upon you within the week to see how you're adjusting."
He nodded and followed his guide out of the mansion, to an awaiting aircar.
