Tassadar stirred, pulling himself from his half sleep, half meditation, hearing the voices of the Khala begin to return. They were talkative this morn, preparing to land on the Dark Templar colony. It had been almost a week since he had slept; it wasn't uncommon for him or other protoss to go without for so long, but not with the amount of energy he had to spend in battle. His sleep had felt glorious; it was decadent and languid and all the more pleasant after the hours he and Zeratul had spent together in hedonistic pleasure.

And as he reached out an arm across his bed, it met the Nerazim's back. Tassadar slid his fingers across the skin, settling his hand on the jut of Zeratul's hip.

'You stayed,' said Tassadar, nuzzling against his lover's back. His fingers patted along the curve of Zeratul's thigh, tracing the thick, taut muscles that shaped his skin. Zeratul moaned quietly, relishing in their moment. There were few like this, and neither knew if there would be another like it.

'I could not sleep knowing you were but a step away,' said Zeratul, tilting back his head. The tip of his severed appendages brushed against Tassadar's warm crest; Zeratul could feel it shimmer.

Tassadar slipped his hand between Zeratul's legs, drawing his thumbs along the inside of his thighs, gently kneading the flesh. The Nerazim shifted in Tassadar's embrace, writhing slowly against the Templar's body. Tassadar pressed his crest against Zeratul's shoulder; he smelled of sweat, sweet and husky, mixed with the tart leather of his armour.

'When this is done,' began Tassadar, pausing his hand on Zeratul's thigh. His thumbs hooked the flesh as he talked, giving away the unease beneath his words. 'Will every morning be by your side?'

Zeratul stared out beyond the window, to the black, star filled sky. Gantrithor hovered above their destination; a large, bluey green planet with swirling purple clouds, dotted sporadically across it's surface. And still, he said nothing.

'Zeratul?' pressed Tassadar, his chin nuzzling against the warmth of his back. He knew Zeratul could feel the unease shift the air around them. It smothered their shared psionic connection and quivered Tassadar's tendrils, the tip of which shimmered in echo of his crest, not visible to Zeratul; but he didn't need to see it to know what stirred within his lover.

The Nerazim rested a hand atop Tassadar's, stroking his thumbs. 'Neither of us know what fate has in store for us, kwah-kai.'

Tassadar closed his eyes. 'Does that mean I cannot pursue happiness where I find it?'

Zeratul turned to face his lover, sliding a hand across his face. Tassadar leant into his touch, his tendrils falling across Zeratul's arm. 'Fate waits for no-one. We could be here today, but tomorrow, alone.'

'Must you be so morose, always,' said Tassadar, playing with Zeratul's braid.

Zeratul laughed. 'I take each day as it comes. And if that day comes when we are free of our responsibilities, and all that remains for us is you and I.' He paused and leaned forward, touching his crest against Tassadar's. 'I would happily spend each morning like this.'

Tassadar sighed, content. He nestled his head into the crook of Zeratul's neck, feeling the swathe of arousal emanate from the prelate as they embraced. Tassadar responded eagerly, sliding a hand back between the prelate's legs. His fingers brushed against his hard, scaled cock, just as a sharp rap on the door quelled their passion.

Tassadar reached to the Khala, seeking their guest that had arrived without notice. There was no answer; it was one of two. One of Zeratul's fellow Dark Templar's or -

'Tass, buddy?' called Raynor, his thick drawl still husky.

The Templar sunk his fingers into Zeratul's back, wanting nothing more than to lie within his embrace, until the darkness took him. But that time was not now; their people needed them, their lives were for others, their lives were for Aiur.

'I should leave and prepare myself and my people for our descent,' said Zeratul as he slowly pulled away from Tassadar's embrace. The young Templar gripped his wrist, halting his departure. Their gaze met, and they stared at one another in silence. They needed no words for their goodbye. Zeratul shimmered, disappearing before Tassadar's eyes, in a way that had become so familiar to the Templar.

'Tass? You there?' said Raynor, rapping the door again.

Tassadar took hold of a loose robe and tied it about his waist. 'Come,' he called as he waved a hand. The door opened with a hiss, in tandem with the motion of his hand.

Raynor stepped inside, glancing to his right. He thought he saw something pass him by; but there was nothing. The door clicked shut, and he greeted the Templar with a smile.

Tassadar stood by the wide, open window of his quarters and stared at their destination; Rantoth. The Khala bustled with words, with preparation. They would leave soon; but not without Tassadar's word. Rika called to him; he had news to discuss before their departure. But he suspected whatever had brought Raynor here was one and the same.

'Morning, buddy. Sleep well? Or whatever it is you protoss do,' said Raynor, glancing at Tassadar's bed. The sheets were tangled, and the pillows splayed. He hadn't slept alone.

'We rest - something akin to your sleep - but not as often,' he said idly, feeling the presence of Zeratul wain. 'What did you come for, friend Raynor?'

'To the point as always, Tass,' said Raynor, joining Tassadar's side. His hair fell into his eyes, messy and unwashed. The remnants of their last fight - blood and dirt - still lingered on his skin and clothes. A thick scent of sweat, smoke and alcohol lingered around him and grew stronger the longer the marine stood by his side.

Raynor cleared his throat, still hoarse from sleep. 'The Hyperion picked up a distress call from below. A ghost and her team. My boys ain't yet answered - that's your call, buddy.'

Rika called to Tassadar again; he answered, listening to his second in command report. He echoed Raynor's words. 'Is she with the enemy you fight against?'

Raynor scratched his head as he stared out through the window and upon the planet where they would soon land. 'Most likely,' began Raynor. 'But so was Kerrigan. So were we all, once. People can change, and often we don't get to choose the orders we follow.'

'I can see why Zeratul likes you,' said Tassadar, his crest a light hue of yellow. 'Our allies are few, and we cannot afford any more loss,' said Tassadar in tandem to his words to Rika which were simply to wait. 'But we will answer her call.' He turned to face Raynor. 'Get the Hyperion to contact her and find out as much as you can, then report back to me.'

'Roger that,' said Raynor, nodding towards Tassadar. 'Maybe if we save her ass she'll work for us.'

'One can only hope,' he said quietly, staring at the planet they would soon be standing upon. 'Why would a dominion ghost be upon a Dark Templar colony?'

Raynor shrugged. 'I can get my boys to ask her what she's up to before we offer help.'

'Whatever you feel is right,' said Tassadar slowly, resting a clawed hand on his arm.

'You alright, buddy? I mean... I know there's a lot to weigh you down lately,' said Raynor, scratching his head again.

'And you, friend Raynor,' said Tassadar, the yellow hue on his crest fading. 'We do not have the luxury to dwell on what makes our hearts heavy.'

'Something's gotta give,' said Raynor with a sigh as he clicked his neck. 'Or we ain't gonna be no good to anyone.'

'You will always have the support and friendship of Zeratul and I, Raynor,' said Tassadar as he turned to the marshall.

Raynor smiled. 'I'm glad you found some happiness amongst this shit, Tass.'

Tassadar's crest shimmered a light red as Raynor spoke. Of course he knew. The terran had become an ally and close friend for both the protoss, and he was no fool. He understood their need for secrecy and discretion; and there was no room for judgemental eyes or words with Raynor. Much more than could be said for the majority of his fellow protoss.

'It's never where we expect to find it,' said Tassadar, resting a hand on the window, his claws tapping gently on the glass.

'You ain't wrong,' said Raynor as he idly clutched Kerrigan's dog tags that hung from his neck, beside his own.

'We will do what we can to return her to you,' said Tassadar, kindly. 'I have no desire to cause anymore unnecessary death. There has been…too much already.'

'I'm worried that we've lost too much of her to the zerg already.' Raynor tucked away her dog tags as he spoke, pushing back the tremor in his words. 'I just want my girl back.'

Tassadar turned to his friend a set a hand on his shoulder, retracting his claws. 'You will.'

'I wish I shared your enthusiasm, buddy,' said Raynor, wearily. He patted Tassadar's hand before turning away. 'I better get in touch with my boys and get suited for landing. I'll report back about the ghost.'

'Inform Zeratul. He will be with his fellow Nerazim,' said Tassadar as he glided towards the stand where his armour sat, ready and waiting.

'Yes'sir,' said Raynor with a smile and salute as he left.

Zeratul tightened his bracer as he sat with his brethren. They were restless; nervous, but eager to meet more of their kind. All those that were not the enemy were needed and wanted; they were allies, and allies were now friends. Many had come to their prelate this morning seeking his wisdom and guidance. Many still felt uneasy upon Gantrithor, surrounded by those that had not so long ago called for their death for heresy. But now, by common enemy, they were allies. Hatreds had been pushed aside - but would they be forgotten? Or at the first sign of peace would those that still walked with the Khala turn their blades back onto the Nerazim?

While Tassadar lived, Zeratul knew they need not fear such a thing from his people. Those that stood with the once Executor, were loyal to him, and heeded his wisdom, however difficult is was to adjust. There was almost a thousand years of hatred between the followers of the Khala and the Nerazim, and Zeratul had seen six hundred of them. Tassadar, barely a few hundred himself, but he had the wisdom akin to Raszagal; akin to Adun.

Zeratul felt a wave of memory grip him; it almost overwhelmed him as the presence of Tassadar approached. Last night, as they lay bathed in the starlight, Zeratul had let Tassadar take control. It was rare for the Templar to be the dominant force in their intimacy; Zeratul thrived by being in control. When he watched Tassadar writhe beneath him in submission; when he heard him whimper in consenting subjugation, it drove the Nerazim wild. But there were moments when Tassadar longed to straddle Zeratul, to pin him against the floor and be the dominant one in their intimacy, just for that moment. The Nerazim closed his eyes, steadying the shift in his energy and stalling the colour change of his crest; but still, he let himself remember.

The way Tassadar had sunk his claws into Zeratul's shoulder's, along his chest, around his neck, pinning his body against the hard, cold floor. The way he hooked his hips with each thrust, tightly, pressing his face into Zeratul's back, nuzzling against the taut skin and brushing against his severed appendages.

I can feel your desire from here, Zeratul.

The prelate opened his eyes and glanced across the bustling room, filled with protoss and one terran. He searched for Tassadar, but he could only feel his presence, not see it. He made to reply to the Templar, but Raynor had approached, rifle in hand, suited and booted.

'She ain't givin' up anything 'til we send help,' said the marine, clicking open his visor.

'I expected as much. Wouldn't we act as such?' said the Dark Templar, rising from the crate he was sat upon.

'You ain't wrong,' said Raynor as he watched a throng of Templars board a shuttle.

'Did she at least inform us of the enemy we face?' asked Zeratul as he waved a hand to his fellow Nerazim to depart.

'Yeah,' started Raynor, his voice wary. 'She mentioned the zerg, which was expected. But she said there were protoss attacking her too.'

Zeratul flexed his hands as they walked, taking in Raynor's words.

There are hostile protoss below, called Tassadar.

I know. Raynor has just informed me. Could they be-

Tal'darim.

The Nerazim paused by a shuttle door, watching his kin prepare to depart and load onto the ship. Zerg. Terrans. Tal' darim. An enemy from every side, even from within. Zeratul had always looked behind his shoulder; always kept his steps untraceable and silent. Was it even more imperative to do so now? At last, he saw Tassadar, standing beside Rika, gleaming in his gold and blue armour, resplendent, like the Executor he should be.

'They may look like those that follow the Khala - but do not be fooled. These protoss are neither friend to Templar or Nerazim,' said Zeratul before he ordered the shuttle to leave. One remained.

'You know who they are?'

'Have you heard of the Tal'darim?' asked Zeratul as he walked towards Tassadar and Rika. They were accompanied by several of Tassadar's higher ranking Templars, some of whom bristled at the approach of Zeratul.

'Uhh, fill me in,' said Raynor.

'They are not of the Khala, but nor do they reject it as I or my fellows do. They worship the Xel'naga as we all do, but in ways that are far more zealous and beyond that which we conform to. Anyone who is not them, is the enemy. They are insular and solitary creatures. They may be protoss, but they are not us.'

'It seems our own enemies are ourselves, often,' said Raynor, standing by Zeratul as they reached the small group.

'Wise words, friend,' said Zeratul, his eyes flickering as he spoke.

'Being around you lot must be rubbin' off on me,' he said, scratching his stubble.

Zeratul laughed quietly as Tassadar turned to them both.

'Rika shall stay on Gantrithor with a handful of support,' began Tassadar, his bright blue eyes shimmering as he spoke. 'Are your kin ready, Zeratul?'

'We are prepared, for whatever we might face.'

'My boys are dropping two shuttles from the Hyperion for support and a pick up Medivac for the ghost and her team. We're ready to move on your command,' said Raynor.

'Let us waste no more time. Stay safe brothers. For Aiur!'

'En Taro, Adun!' called Zeratul. The remaining Templars echoed their calls; Raynor clicked shut his visor and one by one they filed into the remaining shuttle to descend onto the planet below.

Zeratul was last to enter, and he walked behind Tassadar.

Slowly, he drew a clawed finger across the small patch of exposed skin on his back, feeling the tremble of desire ripple through their psionic connection.