“Exactly what it looks like. A miniature riding hound.”
The sad-eyed animal snuffling by Kelas’ knee, did, in fact, resemble the beast five year old Elim had tried so hard to dominate, before Tain decided there was no point including his bastard in his Lord of the Manor fantasies.
“Why?”
Kelas sighed heavily. “Nostalgia? A representation of Old Cardassia for a generation too young to have known it and therefore able to find it quaint? A way to pretend one comes from an old family with stables, without the stables? I don’t quite know, Elim, just that they’re everywhere now.”
“How?”
“Oh, modifying their DNA to miniaturize them was easy enough. Now they’re being sold in the river park.”
“Well. I’ll get the District to put a stop to that.” The hound pushed against his hand, and Garak reluctantly patted his head. It felt good. “But why is he here?”
“Like with any fad, people overestimated the demand and the chance to make profit.”
“Profit. Good Gods I was so concerned about us becoming a Federation outpost I didn’t think to worry that our own people would turn Ferengi.”
Kelas responses with a wry smile. “Indeed. And now Kardass’ior is quite overrun, and people are bringing their unwanted hounds to the clinic, as if we’ll be able to provide for them.”
Elim knelt by the hound. He was a dappled brown, with large, sad eyes, and a stocky build like the beast of burden he was meant to be, though who could ever ride him? A ridiculous image of Julian Bashir’s teddy bear on his back flashed through Elim’s mind and he smiled. He looked up at Kelas. “Yes.”
“Yes?”
“Yes, we can keep him.”
Kelas joined Elim on the ground. The hound, seeming to know his fate had been decided, flopped down in front of them and stretched his spine. Both men obligingly scratched and petted him. Kelas snuck a glance at his partner, who was fully engaged in a sotto voice monologue to the hound, full of promises of a warm home and good meals and the chance to run to his heart’s content.
Kelas Parmak would make sure all of those promises, and the ones left unspoken between them, were realized.
“Who am I, Elim?” I didn’t hestitate. “Someone I must never let out of my awareness.”
Garak and Tain interacting pre-exile, for goddessofcheese! With some words thrown in from A Stich In Time (which I really recommend to everyone who hasn’t checked it out yet!) I’m uh, pretty sure Tain’s actually standing opposite to Garak in that scene but let’s let that slide!
Elim Garak has dedicated his life to the Obsidian Order. His service to Cardassia is everything, until he meets Kelas Parmak. The closer they become, the more the experience changes Garak. Suddenly the things he has taken for granted are not as obvious as they once were, and he finds himself questioning the values that have always defined him.
Elim Garak/Kelas Parmak, chapter one of thirteen.
A fic set before the interrogation and Garak’s exile, featuring Cardassian underground gay bars, arguments about literature, dystopian novel tropes only set on Cardassia and a lot of lizard love.
No trigger warnings in this chapter. Please see below the cut for a complete list of trigger warnings for the entire fic.
Cecil. She/her. During the day I sit in libraries staring at books. During the night I write queer fanfiction with a historical slant.
Some not-so-random facts: Gay space lizards are the best lizards. Star Trek is my life. I have too many DS9 ships. Classic Who and the Eighth Doctor Adventures make me grin stupidly. Kelas Parmak is the best. I will defend historically accurate portrayals of Alan Turing to the last drop of blood. Likes and asks end up in the name of @apolesens-otheraccount, because Tumblr doesn't have a way of changing which blog is your primary one. Nothing happens over there - this is the one to follow.
