I can't believe I didn't think of this ship earlier!

NOTE: This story disregards the relaunch novels (and online games, and anything outside the TV shows and movies.)

It also disregards my story "the Twenty-Sixth Year," which has been removed. If you've read that story, please disregard it when reading this one.

I don't own "Star Trek."

With fire and steel did the gods forge the Klingon heart. So fiercely did it beat, so loud was the sound, that the gods cried out, 'On this day we have brought forth the strongest heart in all the heavens. None can stand before it without trembling at its strength.' But then the Klingon heart weakened, its steady rhythm faltered and the gods said, 'Why have you weakened so? We have made you the strongest in all of creation.' And the heart said

"I am alone."

Alexander had been feeling alone for a long time. His father's devotion was always divided between his son and his duties as a Starfleet officer and a Klingon. His mother, murdered when he was a child; the sight of K'Ehleyr's bloodied body in his father's arms would haunt Alexander for life. Being one-fourth human, other Klingons saw him as too soft in every way, including his forehead; having a human name and being clumsy with a bat'leth didn't help. And of course, he wasn't quite human enough (in personality or appearance) to easily fit in with humans. Alexander had joined the service of the Empire in part to prove his worth as a Klingon, and part to vent the rage that had been rising in him over the course of his life, since his mother's murder.

And the gods knew that they had erred. So they went back to their forge and brought forth another heart.

He'd seen her strolling across the grounds of Starfleet Academy, arms swinging at her sides, deep in an enthusiastic conversation with an Andorian classmate. Alexander had been offered the opportunity to teach a one-time course on Klingon martial arts (his bat'leth use had improved over the years, and was now close to decent). The class didn't begin until the next semester, but Alexander was already on Earth, and decided to pay the Academy a visit. She had a beauty he'd once thought unique to his mother: the smoothed down ridges, the soft flowing hair, the half-Klingon spunk.

With a bright, very un-Klingon smile, Alexander had nonchalantly swaggered over to her, stuck out his hand for the customary Human handshake, and asked, "Are you half Klingon?"

She'd turned to face him, matching his smile. Her ridges seemed like his mother's upside-down, like the lines children drew to represent birds in flight. Her brunette hair lay around her shoulders in ringlets, and she gazed at him with wide eyes the color of dark chocolate.

"One fourth," she stuck out her hand. "Miral Paris."

The moment she said the name, both their faces changed. Miral's grin widened.

"Hey, I think we've met already! Alexander?"

"Miral!" He gaped at her. "Wow Kid, you uh, really grew up!"

"You look…less tall." Miral made a face. "It's probably my height that's changed."

Alexander laughed, nervously. He'd met the Paris-Torres family at a handful of Klingon and Starfleet events over the years. He'd talked to Miral and her younger brother like a mentor, back then. Only the vastly different aging patterns of Klingons and humans, along with the bizarre combinations of Miral and Alexander's genetics, could have made this scenario possible.

"So you two know each other?" the Andorian girl Miral had been speaking to looked between them.

Miral had then thrown her arm over Alexander's shoulders, either oblivious to his burning face or sadistically enjoying it. "Tyrel, this is Alexander Rozhenko, old family friend, and my inverse."

Ah, yes, that old joke of theirs they'd shared at every event they'd met at.

Alexander explained bashfully to the Andorian, trying to ignore the gorgeous woman's arm around him, "I'm three-fourths Klingon and one-forth human, with a human name. And Miral's the exact opposite."

Miral finally took her hand off him, and stared up at him expectantly. "Aren't you gonna tell her who your father is?"

"I know who Alexander Rozhenko is," Tyrel's aquamarine face contorted dubiously at her friend. "He's teaching a class here, remember?"

Miral's eyes widened, and she turned to Alexander. "You are?"

"You didn't know?" Alexander asked.

Tyrel sighed. "Miri's not the most observant cadet in Starfleet."

"My specialties are piloting and engineering, not reconnaissance," Miral sighed.

Alexander made a face. "But you'd think you of all people would know when the son of Worf was coming to teach for a semester!"

Tyrel's blue antennae perked eagerly. "Did your mothers know each other?" she asked, probably without thinking. "B'Elanna Torres and K'Ehleyr were both half-human and half-Klingon, weren't they?"

"Oh yeah!" Miral replied, equally carelessly. "Ambassador K'Ehleyr was kind of a mentor to my mother when she was growing up on Q'onos. They weren't super-close, but it was the kind of friendship that just picked up where it left off, at least from what Mom tells me. She—" Finally, Miral had caught herself, and looked at Alexander. "Oh my god, Alex…"

"It's alright," he said with a forced smile.

"Alex I'm sorry!"

"It's fine Miral, really."

But the second heart beat stronger than the first, and the first was jealous of its power.

Miral and Robbie Paris had had such quiet, privileged childhoods compared to Alexander. The bulk of their parents' adventures had occurred before Miral's birth. After that, Tom Paris and B'Elanna Torres' involvement in dangerous events had been incidental, while the family life and mundane careers had been the norm. For Alexander it had been the opposite. K'Ehleyr's murder had just been the beginning. What had followed was a brief portion of his childhood on Earth, where he clearly didn't fit in; the rest of his childhood, aboard the Enterprise-D (and all that that entailed, including an attack from his hostile future self); and ultimately being dumped back on Earth by his father, with the excuse that Alexander would be "safer" and "happier" there. Then as a teenager he'd joined the Klingon Defense Force while his father continued battling enemies and facing death on a regular basis on Deep Space Nine. And then, finally, Alexander had received a stepmother as spunky, adventurous, and loving as his first one…only to lose her the exact same way, murdered in cold blood. (At least that time, Alexander hadn't had to see Jadzia Dax die in his father's arms.) It didn't take much to put together why Alex had been a problem child, or why he'd felt compelled to join the Klingon military.

She wouldn't want me, Alexander had thought. Even if not for the age difference, he was too screwed up. Miral Paris was young and carefree, with a promising career ahead of her. She didn't want or need a mess like Alexander stampeding into her life.

And yet, she'd insisted that both were indeed the case.

"You're just familiar enough to be comforting," she'd said on their first date to Sandrine's, "but far away enough to keep me excited."

"I have a feeling that's your opinion on Klingons in a nutshell," Alexander had joked.

She'd smirked at that, over her wine. "Maybe."

It hadn't taken them long to fall in love. But Alexander always feared that it was two very different kinds of love. To him, Miral was his perfect inverse, his missing half. Adventurous and laid back where he was too ridged, brainy and compassionate when he was too…Klingon. But for Miral, he feared he was just another adventure. It was the age difference, he decided. Alexander was a good decade older than Miral. He was ready to settle down. She still wanted to taste the buffet. Should he just sit tight and wait for her, until she was at that "ready to settle down" age? What if someone else should sweep in and convince her it was time to marry early, and he was too late? But if he tried to hard now, he might push her away.

They'd had fun like only Klingon/Human hybrids could. Battling Wild West outlaws with bat'leths and d'k tahg daggers on the holodeck. Flying rented (or commandeered) shuttlecrafts through the most hazardous obstacles they could find. Trying out alien dishes that would be dangerous for either humans or Klingons or both, to test the superiority of hybrids. Making love in every position possible, and a few that shouldn't be. She was so adventurous, no wonder she was drawn to a proud warrior, a member of the Klingon guard, like him. But in the world of Starfleet, there had to be so many other exciting men to draw her attention, and who could give Alexander—with his staunch warrior's principals and sentimental daddy-issues—a run for his money.

Worf had offered his son his sympathies. "I felt similarly when I was courting Jadzia. I feared her sense of adventure would cause her to stray from me. Miral is… very much like Jadzia."

That she was, Alexander realized. And that realization was simultaneously uplifting and uncomfortable. Alexander was drawn to spunky, adventurous women, like his mother and stepmother, and simultaneously, obsessively protective of them.

Three years they had dated, all the way to Miral's graduation from the academy. When Ensign Paris was finally assigned to her first mission aboard the U.S.S. Simurgh, Alexander was also anticipating a new promotion; he was now to serve as first officer aboard the Klingon vessel V'Kaar. His ship was set to patrol the subject planets within the Empire's space; Miral's was a science vessel that would be exploring the Gamma Quadrant (via the wormhole). In other words, they were about to be separated by a vast distance, for a long time. In other words, the relationship was likely over.

Fortunately, the second heart was tempered by wisdom.

"Split…up?" Miral's brown eyes stared up at Alexander from the corner booth of the small, Academy coffee shop, looking genuinely betrayed.

"You're about to begin your career," Alexander said, his chest tightening sickeningly with every word. "A life of adventure. You won't want me holding you back."

Her confusion and hurt seemed only to increase, as she gaped at him. "What did I do? Please, just tell me."

"Nothing, yet. And I want to end this before…before you meet some alien man, or shipmate more exciting than me."

Her eyebrows then made a funny shape, as her face had melted into something between amused relief and affronted shock. "You think I'm just going to get tired of you?"

Alexander stared down at the cooling Klingon tea in his hands. "I don't think men will get tired of you."

"They might if I'm married!" she'd blurted out.

Alexander looked up at her sharply.

She swallowed. "But that's not what you brought me here to ask me, I guess."

She'd pushed herself up from the table, determinately avoiding his eye.

"Miral wait!" He reached across the table, grabbing her wrist. "You're right, I didn't come to ask you that, because… I thought it was insane to hope you'd say 'yes' to that. And never in a million years did I think you'd be the one to come up with the idea."

He hadn't even finished speaking before Miral had thrown her arm around his neck and pulled him into a kiss, over the table. Alexander took both her arms in his, and she finally sank back into the booth. After the kiss, they continued to hold each other across the table, their ridged foreheads resting on each other.

"It'll be one weird marriage," Alexander said quietly.

"That's what makes it interesting," she'd urged. "Anyway, I'll bet I can get a transfer to a ship closer to Klingon space. Grandpa Paris can probably pull a few strings."

Six months ago, that awkward marriage proposal had occurred. Now Miral's voice echoed across the rocky terrain,

"If we join together, no force can stop us."

Miral and Alexander faced each other in the red and gold attire of a Klingon bride and groom, holding their bat'leths to each other's necks. The ceremony took place outside, in the canyons of Vega, against a very appropriately red and orange sky. The rock formations around them were drapped with Klingon banners and décor. Below the plateau where they stood was a crowd riddled with Enterprise, Deep Space Nine, and Voyager veterans, as well as a number of human and Klingon relatives, and close friends, all armed with the ceremonial ma'Stakas to attack the bride and groom with after the ceremony. At the front of the crowd stood Worf, Tom Paris, Chancellor Martok, Admiral Janeway, Worf's human foster parents, Admiral Paris, Captain Riker, and Admiral Picard. Miral's mother B'Elanna stood on the plateau behind the bride and groom, long graying hair tumbling over the traditional green robes of the matriarch performing the wedding ceremony. A ways behind her stood Miral's younger brother Robert Paris, who'd served as the sword barer—the role Alexander himself had filled in his father's marriage to Jadzia.

The ceremony wasn't quite identical to Worf and Jadzia's. Just as on Earth, Qo'noS had a number of subcultures with their own divergent beliefs and rituals. Alexander and Miral's families had decided on a version of the Klingon wedding where the bride's mother would conduct the ceremony (and where the rituals preceding to the wedding were less demanding).

B'Elanna bellowed across the canyon, "And when the two hearts began to beat together, they filled the heavens with a terrible sound. For the first time, the gods knew fear. They tried to flee, but it was too late. The Klingon hearts destroyed the gods who created them and turned the heavens to ashes. To this very day, no one can oppose the beating of two Klingon hearts." Turning to Alexander, B'Elanna's brown eyes glistened, but her voice remained as strong as a full-blooded Klingon woman's. "Alexander Rozhenko, son of Worf, does your heart beat only for this woman?"

With absolute certainty, Alexander replied, "Yes."

"And will you swear to join with her and stand with her against all who oppose you?"

A very serious question, for two people with Alexander and Miral's careers. With Alexander and Miral's histories.

"I swear."

B'Elanna turned to her daughter. Miral's face beamed under her gold ceremonial crown. She looked so small in the bulky red wedding gown, but at the same time, it brought out her rounded features better than any other outfit Alexander could recall her wearing. How could his heart possibly beat for any other woman? It was beating now, uncontrollably, paralyzed with terror over how her voice would sound when she answered the next two questions.

"Miral," B'Elanna's voice softened noticeably, as though she were genuinely asking her daughter, "daughter of B'Elanna, does your heart beat only for this man?"

"Yes."

The fierceness with which Miral said the word purged all of Alexander's fears, and his heart soared.

B'Elanna's voice was finally beginning to crack. "And do you swear to join with him and stand with him against all who would oppose you?"

"I swear."

Thin tears were now rolling down B'Elanna's cheeks, but her face didn't flinch. "Then let all present here today know that this man and this woman are married."

Alexander had spent the entire ceremony planning how he was going to take Miral into his arms, and dip her into the kiss; but not surprisingly she got there first, throwing her arms around his neck and pulling herself up to him, kissing him passionately, her hands weaving through and messing up his bound-back hair.

And then, the customary onslaught from the guests commenced.

Obviously, Alexander and Miral went easy on the oldest and youngest attackers. (It was cute, seeing all the kids running at them with ma'Stakas almost larger than themselves.) Everyone, including Alexander, was a bit startled when Miral flipped her own father clean over in the air, sending him onto his back against the rocky ground. The bride gasped, and quickly knelt over her father.

"I'm fine," Tom assured her, pushing himself up. "Serves me right, trying to jump the kuvah'magh."

The traditional attack resumed, once everyone was assured Tom was alright. Naturally it was a bit less violent than usual, with over half the crowd being non-Klingons. In fact, one middle-aged human woman still hadn't finished her hysterical blubbering from the exchange of vows. Alexander recognized her as a friend of Miral's family from the Voyager crew—that famous Borg woman who'd escaped the Collective, and recovered her humanity, Ninety-Nine or something. Her husband, an old Indian guy with long silver hair and a tribal tattoo over one eye, patted her arm. "The wedding's done Seven, you can stop crying now." She'd just dipped her head onto his shoulder, continuing to sob pathetically.

Admiral Janeway watched the crying ex-drone with a white eyebrow raised. "My god, how some things have changed."

Lt. Naomi Widlman, one of Miral's closest friends, came up to congratulate the couple, her ma'Staka slung over her shoulder. "If you two have kids, they'll be clean-cut, fifty-fifty half-Human half-Klingon, won't they!"

Miral smiled tightly and nodded. "That they will."

"It's a bit early to be thinking about that," Alexander said.

All three faces turned somber as Worf suddenly towered over them. Putting a hand on Miral's shoulder, he said gruffly, "Welcome to the house of Martok. I… may not follow the sect that believes in the Kuvah'magh, but your significance in their culture is unquestionable. As is your love for my son."

Miral stared nervously up at her father-in-law. Worf was the only person in the galaxy, as far as Alexander knew, who could make Miral Paris timid. "Thank you."

Tom Paris clapped Alexander on the back. "And welcome to the Paris-Torres family. I should warn you," he glanced at Worf, as if saying this as much for his benefit as his new son-in-law's, "we're known to be a bit unruly, by human and Klingon standards."

"So I noticed," Alexander said. "That's why I picked Miral in the first place."

A/N: Very special thanks to Memory Alpha, Chrissie's Transcripts Site, and YouTube, which I relied on very heavily for this story. Despite shipping Miral and Alexander now, I still don't know the latter character very well, and relied heavily on online information for him. If I've made any grave mistakes with Alexander's character, do let me know and I'll make corrections.

PLAG—Er, "INSPIRATIONS:" The idea of Alexander and Miral reuniting at the Academy as instructor and student comes from KageOkami-Kogo's story "Irrelevance," about Icheb and Naomi. (A good read, that I highly recommend.)

And this line: "…like the lines children drew to represent birds in flight." Straight from William Gibson's "Neruomancer." No sentence could better describe the cranial ridges of Miral Paris, daughter of Voyager's hotshot pilot. Sorry Will. I swear, I'll never plagiarize in any of my serious writing.

This story is somewhat tied to my other oneshot "Hybrid," which describes B'Elanna and K'Ehleyr's interactions.

Final note: someone else thought of this pairing before I did. If you like the idea of Miral and Alexander together, check out "the Klingon Side" by Bunzyyyy6.