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seikilosTitle: Unity in Triumph
Fandom: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Gen
Rating & Warnings: PG (alcohol)
Words: 606
Disclaimer: I don't own the above media.
Summary: After yet another victory for the Klingon Empire, Martok joins his soldiers in celebrating at Quark’s. However, there is one Klingon who sits alone.
Author's Notes: Oh boy, oh boy, was this ever hard. While I can certainly respect the amount of time and thought both the makers of Star Trek and Klingon fans have put into Klingon culture…it is really, really not my thing. About the only place where Klingons and I agree is how awesome singing is. Other than that, well—it’s Cardassians and Vulcans for me. So when I saw this week’s challenge, I knew what I had to do.
I still can’t believe I wrote this.
Back on DS9 after a fearsome battle, his time on duty at last at an end, there was only one thing Martok wanted to do: celebrate. Yet another Jem'Hadar ship had thought to challenge the Klingon Empire and had been smashed and blown to fragments for its folly. It was a good day, and a day for wine and song.
It seemed he was not the only one to have come to this conclusion: a number of his soldiers had beaten him to Quark's. Already, he could hear the third verse of the main theme from Aktuh and Maylota being bellowed out and he was still a quarter of the promenade away. He grinned, took a long pull of the bottle of bloodwine he'd brought to carry him the long way to Quark's, and kept grinning as he swaggered into the bar.
Inside, the place was alive with victorious Klingons tossing back ale, cheering and cursing at the dabo wheel, and, of course, singing. Everywhere he looked, Martok witnessed the celebrations of warriors—until he caught sight of one man sitting alone.
"Worf!"
Martok charged forward, knocking aside soldiers and being knocked in return. Worf stood as he arrived; Martok waved him down.
"Worf, what are you doing?" Martok demanded over the terrific din of a table being overturned. "Why are you sitting alone in the midst of such a celebration? Join us—sing a song, challenge someone to battle, drink with the others until the prune juice runs down your beard!"
"It is not my celebration to join," Worf explained, making no move to accept the invitation. "I did not partake in the battle. I have no right to celebrate a victory that is not mine."
"Worf. . . ." Martok pulled out the chair opposite his friend—how disappointing that there was furniture still upright—and dropped into it. "Victories are meant to be shared, whether you had a part in ensuring them or not. If I could invite all of the Empire to Quark's, I would! A victory for the Empire achieved by even a single warrior is a victory for us all."
Still Worf refused, saying, "It would be . . . presumptuous of me to celebrate alongside your soldiers. I am the only one present who did not partake in the battle."
Martok thrust out a finger. "So, when you vanquish the Jem'Hadar on the Defiant, will you bar me from toasting your victory?"
"Of course not!" Worf's fingers went temporarily slack on his glass. "You are my brother and the leader of my House!"
"So why do you think I would deny you the pleasure of celebrating at my side?" He allowed that to sink in for only a moment before he went on. "Ah, Worf. I have told you before: being a Klingon is about joy every bit as much as it is about honour. Partake in our joy—spread it." He flung his arms apart; bloodwine slopped to the already sticky floor. "Roar to the galaxy your pride in being a Klingon!"
Worf shot to his feet. "I will, General!"
"That's the spirit." Martok took two quick steps around the table to give Worf a hard pound to the back. "Go out there and be a Klingon as fiercely as you can!"
Worf seized his glass of prune juice. "Yes, General!"
He lunged off. Martok watched him go for only a moment before taking a swig of bloodwine. As he went off to begin his own celebrations, he grinned again, wider than before, when his ears were filled with Worf's voice joining in on the sixteenth verse of the theme from Aktuh and Maylota.
Fandom: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Gen
Rating & Warnings: PG (alcohol)
Words: 606
Disclaimer: I don't own the above media.
Summary: After yet another victory for the Klingon Empire, Martok joins his soldiers in celebrating at Quark’s. However, there is one Klingon who sits alone.
Author's Notes: Oh boy, oh boy, was this ever hard. While I can certainly respect the amount of time and thought both the makers of Star Trek and Klingon fans have put into Klingon culture…it is really, really not my thing. About the only place where Klingons and I agree is how awesome singing is. Other than that, well—it’s Cardassians and Vulcans for me. So when I saw this week’s challenge, I knew what I had to do.
I still can’t believe I wrote this.
Back on DS9 after a fearsome battle, his time on duty at last at an end, there was only one thing Martok wanted to do: celebrate. Yet another Jem'Hadar ship had thought to challenge the Klingon Empire and had been smashed and blown to fragments for its folly. It was a good day, and a day for wine and song.
It seemed he was not the only one to have come to this conclusion: a number of his soldiers had beaten him to Quark's. Already, he could hear the third verse of the main theme from Aktuh and Maylota being bellowed out and he was still a quarter of the promenade away. He grinned, took a long pull of the bottle of bloodwine he'd brought to carry him the long way to Quark's, and kept grinning as he swaggered into the bar.
Inside, the place was alive with victorious Klingons tossing back ale, cheering and cursing at the dabo wheel, and, of course, singing. Everywhere he looked, Martok witnessed the celebrations of warriors—until he caught sight of one man sitting alone.
"Worf!"
Martok charged forward, knocking aside soldiers and being knocked in return. Worf stood as he arrived; Martok waved him down.
"Worf, what are you doing?" Martok demanded over the terrific din of a table being overturned. "Why are you sitting alone in the midst of such a celebration? Join us—sing a song, challenge someone to battle, drink with the others until the prune juice runs down your beard!"
"It is not my celebration to join," Worf explained, making no move to accept the invitation. "I did not partake in the battle. I have no right to celebrate a victory that is not mine."
"Worf. . . ." Martok pulled out the chair opposite his friend—how disappointing that there was furniture still upright—and dropped into it. "Victories are meant to be shared, whether you had a part in ensuring them or not. If I could invite all of the Empire to Quark's, I would! A victory for the Empire achieved by even a single warrior is a victory for us all."
Still Worf refused, saying, "It would be . . . presumptuous of me to celebrate alongside your soldiers. I am the only one present who did not partake in the battle."
Martok thrust out a finger. "So, when you vanquish the Jem'Hadar on the Defiant, will you bar me from toasting your victory?"
"Of course not!" Worf's fingers went temporarily slack on his glass. "You are my brother and the leader of my House!"
"So why do you think I would deny you the pleasure of celebrating at my side?" He allowed that to sink in for only a moment before he went on. "Ah, Worf. I have told you before: being a Klingon is about joy every bit as much as it is about honour. Partake in our joy—spread it." He flung his arms apart; bloodwine slopped to the already sticky floor. "Roar to the galaxy your pride in being a Klingon!"
Worf shot to his feet. "I will, General!"
"That's the spirit." Martok took two quick steps around the table to give Worf a hard pound to the back. "Go out there and be a Klingon as fiercely as you can!"
Worf seized his glass of prune juice. "Yes, General!"
He lunged off. Martok watched him go for only a moment before taking a swig of bloodwine. As he went off to begin his own celebrations, he grinned again, wider than before, when his ears were filled with Worf's voice joining in on the sixteenth verse of the theme from Aktuh and Maylota.
