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Chapter Text

“And of course, we at UNN must thank our gracious hosts, Hierarch Artanis and Matriarch Vorazun, for their unprecedented gesture of hospitality and goodwill, inviting Emperor Valerian Mengsk to attend their historic wedding and take part in the festivities himself. Here comes the Emperor now. Sir, do you have anything to say to the public on this historic day?”

“Always a pleasure, Kate,” Valerian said with his trademark charm. “Of course, I offer my thanks for the invitation to Hierarch Artanis, who’s proven himself to be a true ally to the Dominion, and his lovely bride, one of the most brilliant tacticians I’ve ever had the blessing to work with. I look forward to returning the gesture when I get married.”

“Mm,” Kate said, “And can we expect that anytime in the near future?”

“Much nearer if you finally take me up on that dinner invitation,” Valerian chuckled, “but for now, I’m accompanied by my most trusted advisor, Admiral Matt Horner.”

Admiral Horner, Emperor Valerian, and UNN Reporter Kate Lockwell were all dressed in traditional Protoss formalwear. White robes with gold metal accents, boots that came all the way up the leg, and loincloths in lieu of pants. Valerian and Kate, both of whom were used to wearing impractical and somewhat garish clothes for television appearances, both pulled this look off effortlessly. Matt, who had practically begged Valerian to let him wear his military dress blues, was visibly uncomfortable, but made an effort to make this less apparent. 

Kate returned the chuckle, and they exchanged a few more pleasantries for the camera before asking the more hard-hitting question. “Many Dominion citizens are upset with Hierarch Artanis for his controversial choice to invite Tal’darim Highlord Alarak, following the Death Fleet’s devastating attack on the civilian population of Vardona. Does your administration have any comment on Highlord Alarak’s presence?”

“I’m no friend of Highlord Alarak, Kate, and lord knows Matt has had his hands full trying to keep the peace with his fleet,” Valerian explained, “but above all else, Hierarch Artanis is in the business of turning enemies into allies. This wedding marks the end of a thousand years of bitter conflict between the mainland Protoss and their Nerazim brothers and sisters. If he thinks inviting Alarak will bring peace between the Daelaam and the Tal’darim, I trust his judgement.”

“And when it comes time for you to be married, will you follow his example?” Kate asked.

Valerian laughed. “Let’s just say I’m glad I’ve got a lot of time to answer that question,” he said. “If and when the time comes, I’ll evaluate--”

Alarak walked up behind Valerian, took the microphone from Kate’s hand, and put it up to his face, mostly for effect, as he had no mouth. <Your little emperor is right about one thing. Inviting me kept the peace between the Tal’darim and the Daelaam. Had Artanis and Vorazun insulted me by leaving me off the guest list, there would have been an all-out war, and the same will be true for your pitiful excuse for a wedding.>

Valerian sighed. “Charmed as always, Alarak.”

<Don’t patronize me,> Alarak said, handing the microphone back to Kate and walking away. <And Emperor… I’m no friend of yours either.>

Valerian sighed loudly.

He, Horner, and Lockwell finished their interview, and the Emperor and Admiral took their seats. 

“Our coverage of this historic wedding will continue throughout the day. Reporting live from Antioch, this is Kate Lockwell for UNN, signing off.”

During the ceremony, Horner looked around at the assembled guests. As far as he could tell, he and Valerian were the only Terrans in attendance. Highlord Alarak and his First Ascendant, Ji’nara were in attendance, although conspicuously, there was an empty seat between them. Horner wondered who was meant to sit there. 

Standing by Artanis’ side was the Executor of the Golden Armada, Selendis, and her date, a short Dark Templar woman Horner had not met before. There were many Protoss there he didn’t recognize, between high-ranking officials, Artanis and Vorazun’s friends and family members, and of course, members of the general public who had been lucky enough to secure an invitation. He was most surprised to see Overqueen Zagara, also dressed in traditional Protoss regalia, as he had not been informed that she was invited. 

It made sense, of course, ever since the end of the One-Day War, the Zerg Swarm had secured its commitment to peace and philanthropy, and were now staunch allies of both the Daelaam and the Dominion. The peace was tense, as everyone was expecting the Zerg to betray the alliance, but every day the betrayal just kept on not happening, and the peace grew a little less tense. 

His eyes fell on the Protoss woman sitting next to Overqueen Zagara. Matt was sure he’d met her before, although on looks alone he couldn’t place her. Something was very off about how she was sitting. She didn’t seem like any of the other Protoss in the crowd. 

He couldn’t focus on her for too long, though. The officiant, a purifier named Talandar, had begun his speech to wed the Hierarch and Matriarch. He spoke for an inordinately long time, and while his tone was droning and monotonous, his words were relatively inspiring. He spoke of how the wedding was not only the joining of two souls, but represented the greater ideals of the Daelaam, and how it was a living, practical demonstration of the newfound unity, how the Daelaam represented one people with a unified purpose, with no need for divisions of Nerazim or Khalai, and Organic or Synthetic. Talandar’s words were truly moving, and promised a shining progressive future on the horizon. 

Alarak was visibly bored and sank in his chair. Ji’nara looked displeased. The seat between them remained empty. 

The mysterious Protoss woman sitting next to Overqueen Zagara leaned over to whisper something to her, putting her hand up to her face to shield her mouth. Matt immediately realized that was strange, as the mouthless Protoss wouldn’t have any need for such a gesture. He resolved to ask Artanis about it sometime after the ceremony. 

At the conclusion of the ceremony, Artanis and Vorazun were asked to place their hands on each other’s severed nerve cords, to complete the psionic link and make their marriage official. It was an old Dark Templar ritual, created shortly after they first lost their link to the Khala, which allowed them to share a deep empathic link with one other person. It was sacred, and not taken lightly. Marriage was rarer amongst the Dark Templar, because they had to be completely sure they were ready to create a permanent, unbreakable mental link with one another. 

Talandar pronounced Artanis and Vorazun officially married, and naturally, the crowd cheered. Matt, Valerian, and Zagara’s strange companion were the only three in the crowd to actually applaud. 

They were then ushered into a large dance hall, where they were promised the real festivities would begin. 

“How are they having a reception?” Matt asked Valerian. “They can’t serve food or drinks, obviously.”

“I’m curious about that myself,” Valerian replied, “I wish they’d allowed Lockwell to cover this portion of the evening.”

“I don’t know how you’re walking around so comfortably in these clothes,” Matt muttered, “don’t you feel… exposed? One stray breeze and you’re on display.”

“Wouldn’t that be a sight to see?” Valerian looked down playfully. “No matter, you’ve got shorts on underneath.”

“Yeah,” Matt rolled his eyes, “ those leave a lot to the imagination.”

“Relax,” Valerian said, “you’re Terran, anyway. I’m not sure you’ve got anything anyone here is interested in.”

They arrived at a table which had been set especially for them, just to the left of the high thrones Artanis and Vorazun would survey the festivities from. 

“Seems all the dignitaries are seated together,” Valerian said. “This will make for some… interesting company.”

“Oh no,” Matt said, “that doesn’t mean--”

It did mean precisely what Matt worried it meant, and, as though by Magic, Alarak appeared and took his seat at the table. He moved unsettlingly, as though his shoes had wheels on them, and gave the impression that he spent a great deal of time rehearsing just exactly how to make everyone as uncomfortable as possible. Ji’nara pulled out the seat next to his, and then, strangely, sat in the chair next to that empty one. Overqueen Zagara scuttled up to the table and an attendant rushed to the table to move one of the chairs out of the way so that she could take her place at the table. Conspicuously, her companion from the wedding was absent. Matt thought this was a shame, as he’d really wanted to know who she was and how he knew her.

Soon after, they were joined by Selendis and her date, the short Dark Templar that Matt had noticed earlier. 

Matt looked at the small bowls of lavender liquid set before them all, and noticed that they were set at every place, not just those for the Terrans. Initially, he thought to ask how the Protoss would be able to drink it, but he looked around the table and saw all of the protoss guests resting one hand in the bowl, and realized that perhaps it was not meant to be a beverage.

At this moment, Artanis and Vorazun arrived at the table. 

<Thank you for joining us on this joyous day, all!> Artanis said, his voice warm and genuinely thrilled. <Emperor Valerian Mengsk, Admiral Matt Horner, your presence means the universe to us.>

“Congratulations, Hierarch, Matriarch. May your union be as prosperous as the Daelaam.” Valerian said diplomatically. If Artanis could smile, he would’ve been beaming. 

<Please, enjoy the refreshments,> Vorazun said. <We’re very excited about what we’ve got in store for you Terrans. Our caterers were very excited to try their hand at some traditional Terran dishes.>

“Please, you don’t have to--” Matt began, but Valerian elbowed him to cut him off.

“We’re just as excited to try them, Matriarch,” he said. Matt realized that Valerian was right to stop him, Protoss had no concept of Terran cooking, and it might appear rude to reject a dinner they’d gone to trouble to learn how to prepare. 

“We are,” Matt quickly agreed. “If I may ask, this lovely concoction before us… I’m a bit unfamiliar with Protoss customs. Is it safe to drink, or do we just…?” He gestured at the other guests resting their hands in the bowl. 

Vorazun laughed, not with him, but at him. <It’s fruit juice, Matt. We drink through our skin, and on special occasions, we like it to be a bit more flavorful.>

Matt blushed bright red. “My thanks, Matriarch.”

Vorazun patted him on the shoulder reassuringly. <The Khalai regalia suits you.>

Matt blushed even more. 

<Please,> Artanis said as they walked to greet the next table, <enjoy yourselves! After all, it is a celebration!>

Alarak pointedly waited until they walked away, and said <you could’ve fooled me.>

<Not enjoying the party, Highlord? > Selendis asked. 

<If you can even call it that,> Alarak rolled his eyes, but offered no explanation. Silence fell over the table for several seconds. He was very clearly waiting for a follow-up question that did not come. 

“Overqueen Zagara,” Matt broke the painful silence, “You look quite lovely in that dress. It’s a shame your companion couldn’t make it to dinner.”

<I appreciate your compliment,> Zagara said, in the tone of voice of someone who’d been coached on manners and told, in those exact words, to express appreciation when paid a compliment. <I brought no companion.>

Matt was taken aback by this. “Oh, I’m sorry, I just assumed that you were here with the woman seated next to you,” he said, really hoping he could extract some information on her, “since she seemed to know you.”

Zagara narrowed her eyes. <I’m to remember every Protoss who speaks to me at a wedding?>

Valerian sensed the tension here and decided to shift the attention away from Overqueen Zagara. “Executor Selendis,” he said, “I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure of being introduced to your guest.”

<Ah, this is Nerath,> Selendis said, <she’s my--> Selendis cut herself off, realizing that she and Nerath had not yet discussed the nature of their relationship.

<I am her lover, in the nighttime,> Nerath said. <Pleasure to meet you, Emperor Mengsk, Admiral Horner.>

“Oh!” Horner replied. “Selendis, I’ve known you for years, I don’t think you ever mentioned you were gay.”

<Quite gay,> Selendis replied, <It is a gay occasion, Artanis is a close friend, and I am overjoyed to see him wed.>

Valerian couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m sorry, Selendis, the word Gay has another meaning amongst Terrans. What he means is, he didn’t realize you were interested in other women.”

<Ah,> Selendis said cheerily, <you Terrans have such a colorful way of phrasing things. On Aiur, we refer to women who prefer the company of other women as ‘Khyradai,’ since this was very common practice on the ancient world of Khyrador.>

<I rather like their term. ‘Gay,’> Nerath laughed. <I certainly am happy about my preference for women. Now we just need to learn what their word for Terran women who prefer Protoss women is.>

Someone coughed on their drink and tried to stifle a laugh. Matt and Valerian looked at each other to confirm it wasn’t either of them, but since they were the only people at the table who had lungs, it didn’t make sense for it to have been anyone else. 

<Highlord Alarak,> Nerath asked. <I must ask. Why is there an empty seat between you and your date?>

Alarak laughed. <Ji’nara is not my date. She was invited on her own merit as First Ascendant. My date is right here.> He gestured at the empty seat. <Surely you can see her, Nerazim.>

Nerath leaned back, looking smug. Valerian and Matt looked once again at one another, hoping they weren’t the only one who was missing someone. 

<Oh, come off it,> Alarak said. <That reporter’s gone and no one else here can tell the difference between Terrans.>

Horner was about to object to this when, to his shock, the empty seat between Alarak and Ji’nara suddenly found itself occupied. The trademark shimmer of a Ghost de-cloaking lit up the table and out of thin air, the familiar face of Nova Terra materialized in front of them. 

“Hello, boys,” Nova sighed. 

“Terra,” Valerian said, “what the hell are you doing here.”

“Alarak caught my ship in his tractor beam and quite literally dragged me here,” Nova said, “he threatened the lives of my crew if I didn’t accompany him.” 

Valerian rubbed his temples. “ Why. ”

“Do you want the short answer or the dumb answer?” Nova asked. 

<Nova and I are old friends,> Alarak said flatly. 

“The last time you saw me,” Nova replied angrily, “you told me I had made a powerful enemy.”

<In the Tal’darim tongue,> Ji’nara explained, <there is no distinction between the word for ‘enemy’ and the word for ‘colleague.’ It’s a term of respect.>

<Exactly,> Alarak said, <if I didn’t respect you, I wouldn’t dignify you with a label at all.>

“But why me? ” Nova asked. “Surely you have other… colleagues you could’ve roped into this.”

<Simple,> Alarak said frankly, <I’ve been trying to set you up with Ji’nara for years, and you’re the only person I know who could defeat her less worthy suitors.>

Jinara and Nova both scoffed. 

“Set us up?!” Nova asked. “You’ve sent her to kill me on three separate occasions.”

<Exactly!> Alarak exclaimed indignantly. <So you’ve had three dates, and you’ve won all of them. >

“I’m sorry,” Horner jumped in, “did you say ‘defeat her suitors?’”

<Oh, please don’t get him started,> Nerath muttered. 

<A good romance is a beautiful thing,> Alarak said glibly, <and always leaves a trail of bodies in its wake.>

Ji’nara began to explain patiently. <When a Tal’darim declares their eligibility for marriage, all suitors must declare their intent to pursue their hand. They’re then thrown into an arena naked, and not allowed out until only one survives. The friends and families of the eligible watch and cheer on their favorite suitor, and the last fighter standing gets the honor of marrying the object of their affections.>

“And what if the eligible bachelor or bachelorette doesn’t want to marry the victor?” Valerian asked. 

<That never happens,> Alarak laughed. <You see, the eligible have the right to reject any objectionable suitors before the brawl begins. To be turned away from this contest is the highest dishonor any Tal’darim can face, so as a kindness, they are executed on the spot.>

“Good lord,” Valerian said, “remind me not to fall for a Tal’darim.”

<It wouldn’t matter,> Alarak said, <even the weakest Protoss men are packing more firepower than the most virile Terran male.>

Valerian thought about objecting to this, but realized he honestly didn’t care enough what Alarak thought he was packing to bother. 

A long-range communicator on Ji’nara’s wrist flashed. <Excuse me, my lord,> she said, <A report from the fleet. I shall take it in a more private location.>

<Be quick about it,> Alarak said, not actually caring if she was quick about it, but feeling as though he should issue an order. 

Jinara rushed out of the banquet hall quickly. Nova looked after her and wondered if she’d be able to fake a call as an excuse to leave.

It was at this moment that Matt noticed the mysterious Protoss woman from the ceremony standing at the back of the banquet hall, watching. He stared back for a moment, and Valerian took notice. 

“Do you know her?” Valerian asked. 

“I’ve been trying to place her all night,” Matt said, “but I just recognized her. It’s crazy I didn’t see it before. I guess she didn’t want me to see it.”

They sat in silence for a moment, and Horner announced he would be right back. As though she had heard him, the woman hustled into the hall to avoid him, but he was quickly behind her. 

Except, she didn’t appear to be Protoss anymore. She looked Terran, and then, in the next moment, she looked somewhat like Overqueen Zagara, and then quickly, she looked like a flickering golden flame, and then she was Protoss again. 

Once they were in the corridor, away from prying ears, Matt yelled what he now knew to be her name. “ Sarah!”

She stopped cold, and turned to face him. For a moment, she looked like the Queen of Blades, but her features quickly softened into the young woman he’d known in his days as a pilot in the Sons of Korhal. 

“I was hoping I wouldn’t be recognized,” Kerrigan said. “Artanis fought by my side in the End War. I wanted to stand by his side on the happiest day of his life.”

“As though I wouldn’t recognize you, after all we’ve been through together,” Matt said. “We were friends once, back in our rebel days. You, and me, Mike, the Magistrate, and Jim and…”

Horner had remembered to stop himself before saying the name that would be too painful for Kerrigan to hear. Somo Hung, the love of her life who Arcturus Mengsk’s crusade for power had taken from her in his prime. Nonetheless, the look on her face told him that she knew who he meant. 

“Believe it or not, I’m actually glad to see you,” Matt said. “I thought you might be dead.”

“You should be so lucky,” Kerrigan joked. “In all honesty, I’m not even sure the universe will let me die.”

“I can’t let you walk out of here without asking… where is Jim now?” Matt asked. “He just disappeared after the war.” 

“You can’t stop me from walking out of here, Matt,” Kerrigan replied. “But if you must know, I helped him find a… safe haven .”

“Before or after you sprung his son from the ghost academy?” Horner asked pointedly. “I’m not an idiot, Sarah. You know Valerian’s not like his father. He would’ve let Johnny go free if Jim had only asked.”

“You should know I would never betray Jim Raynor’s trust,” Kerrigan said flatly. “I promised him I would never reveal where he was.”

“I see,” Horner replied. 

“But, since you’re an old friend,” Kerrigan said, “I suppose I could tell you that John Hanson Sr. is safe and happy, wherever he is, with his wife Ariel and his son John Jr.”

Horner laughed. “Hanson, huh?” Horner appreciated that Jim had taken his new wife’s last name.

“I’ll know if you tell anyone,” Kerrigan said, “and you should know I have no qualms with killing friends who’ve betrayed me.”

Horner laughed. He knew this better than most.

“Oh, and Matt?” Kerrigan said, “your relationship with Valerian? Arcturus wouldn’t approve.” She smiled darkly. This was the highest compliment she could possibly have given.

She started to walk away, and Matt called after her. “Sarah, are you…” He hesitated, and she stopped and waited for him to continue. “Are you happy?”

Sarah didn’t turn to face him. 

“Old habits,” Matt said. “All those years fighting shoulder-to-shoulder… You can’t stop me caring about you. So are you… okay?”

Sarah turned to face him. “I’m… working on it, Matt. I’ll get there, though. I’ve got all the time I’ll need now.” she said sadly. “Thank you.”

She gave Matt a hug goodbye, and by the time he opened his eyes, she’d disappeared. 

<They truly look happy together,> Selendis said. 

<Artanis is a lucky man,> Nerath replied, <Matriarch Vorazun is a beautiful woman, and a brilliant leader.>

Selendis watched admiringly as Artanis and Vorazun danced together. Their dance had been carefully choreographed to blend Khalai and Nerazim dance styles, to represent the symbolic union between two peoples their marriage represented. 

Nerath spoke the truth. Vorazun was elegant and gave off an air of raw power. Looking at her, you knew that if she cared about you, you would be safe forever. 

<I can’t help but see her mother in her,> Selendis said quietly, suddenly filled with sadness. 

<She is the spitting image of Raszagal, isn’t she?> Nerath asked. 

<I was there,> Selendis confessed. <I saw her mother die.>

Nerath didn’t know what to say.

<I am deeply ashamed of the prejudices I once held against the Nerazim,> Selendis admitted. <When I saw the sacrifices Raszagal and Zeratul made for their people, and mine… I knew I had been too harsh.>

< Our people,> Nerath corrected. 

Selendis looked at her old mentor with glowing admiration. <That’s truer than you know,> she said. <Are you aware that Artanis himself is Dark Templar?>

Nerath looked surprised. <You wouldn’t guess it from looking at him.>

<On Shakuras, he undertook the Shadow Walk against the zerg,> Selendis explained. <Vorazun declared him Dark Templar on the spot.>

<So your mentor, the man who taught you everything you know, turns out to be Dark Templar,> Nerath laughed and took Selendis’ hand. <Pretty soon we’ll be fitting you for void blades.>

Selendis initially winced, but then realized she wasn’t so opposed to the idea. Her brothers and sisters in arms, her mentor, and the woman she was quickly growing to love were all Dark Templar. For the first time ever, the idea of becoming Dark Templar was almost appealing to her.

Matt returned to the table. 

“So? Who was she?” Valerian asked. 

“Can’t really talk about it here,” Matt replied. “What’d I miss?”

<An interminable torrent of feelings and sentiment,> Alarak growled. 

“Ah, so I didn’t miss anything,” Matt said, “we had that in the hall.”

<A wedding,> Alarak sighed, <they call this a wedding, and people are dancing and talking about how happy they are. I think I’m the only one here who even brought a weapon.>

Valerian turned to Matt, covering his mouth to whisper. “Make a note that Alarak will need to be searched before he’s allowed into our wedding.”

“I thought you had a lot of time,” Matt laughed. “But if and when that time comes, I’ll make that note.”

Chapter Text

The Bucephalus cruised through space at a steady pace, carrying Matt and Valerian, who were honestly dreading the moment it arrived at its destination.

“I honestly don’t know why you read that… crap” Valerian said, hesitating because he wasn’t practiced in using even the mildest profanity. 

“It’s funny,” Horner replied, and gestured at the pages of the book he was reading, “look, we’re both in this one.”

“Does it get anything right?” Valerian asked, knowing the answer. 

“Some of these are people who existed,” Matt conceded, “and some of these things did happen, just… not quite in this order, or quite so… like this. ”

Valerian leaned down to examine the cover. “I remember the Flashpoint conflict, it’s highly classified. How would Ms… Golden … even know the details of it?”

“Well, first of all, it’s an open secret among us military types that ‘Golden’ is a pseudonym,” Horner explained, “for someone whose reputation for truth-telling is a bit less reliable under their real name.”

“I don’t want to know who’s considered less reputable than this, unless it’s-- oh no, ” it suddenly dawned on Valerian, “tell me it’s not--”

Matt laughed, “our old pal Donny Vermillion,” he confirmed. “Look, he’s got a whole sequence where Raynor and Kerrigan go out for dinner and then back to the bedroom together.”

“Did that ever, ever happen?” Valerian asked.

“Not even close,” Matt laughed, “he was too much of a gentleman and she was never exactly the romantic type after Somo died.”

“And it… amuses you, to see your life misrepresented like this?” Valerian was still struggling to understand. 

“If you found out Donny Vermillion was writing your life story based on a combination of ‘interviews with people who met you once in a bar,’ ‘his own propaganda that he’s bought into,’ and ‘wild guesswork,’ you’d be first in line to see that movie.”

Valerian silently conceded this point. “You know I’m first in line for every movie I want to see, right? I own a movie theater.”

“That’s why I’m marrying you,” Matt joked. 

“I hope you are,” Valerian replied, “are you sure… she will listen to reason?”

“Oh, I’m not sure of that at all,” Matt replied, “we may want to prepare for war.”

“I’m being serious.”

“So am I,” Horner said, “she’s legitimately insane and she thinks this whole situation is hilarious.”

“Hm,” Valerian considered, “I mean, is she wrong? ”

Matt closed the book and glared at him. 

“I mean,” Valerian said, “ objectively, from the outside. ”

“The head of your military is legally married to a wanted pirate,” Horner explained, “and unless you’ve got some plan to legalize bigamy in the Dominion, we need her to consent to a divorce before we can announce our engagement.”

Matt had been unwittingly married to the pirate Mira Han in Dead Man’s Space as the result of a poker game gone wrong. Unfortunately, Mira, who found Matt’s discomfort with the marriage endlessly funny, had actually taken the time to register the marriage with the Umojan Protectorate. Valerian couldn’t simply declare the marriage null and void without it being considered an act of war, and Mira wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to cause a political scandal, so it was vitally important that they secured her permission. 

They feared she would not make it easy.

When they pulled into the port, it took both of them several minutes to convince each other to stand up and leave the ship. They were briskly ushered through Mira’s compound on Deadman’s Port, until they were finally brought before Mira’s throne, which looked like it was built from the scraps of old junked rifles. 

“Ah,” she said, smirking, “hello, Matthew. ”

Matt sighed. “Okay Mira… What’ll it take?”

“What a low opinion you must have of me, Matthew!” Mira said, feigning offense. “That you think I would seek personal gain from the dissolution of our loving marriage?”

“We’re glad we’re on the same page,” Valerian smiled. 

Matt sighed louder. 

“What?” Valerian asked. 

“We’re not,” Matt replied. “You still don’t get this, do you, Val?”

“I’m honestly proud to say I don’t.” 

The marriage of Han and Horner had always been something of an inside joke between the two, which only one of them found funny. It wasn’t that they disliked one another, by any means. They had commanded an army together during the End War and found, much to Horner’s chagrin, that they were an amazingly effective team. Deep down, they both considered the other to be a dear friend. Unfortunately for Horner, Mira enjoyed nothing more than getting on her friends’ nerves. 

Matt knew that this is what she meant about not seeking personal gain. Valerian assumed, as he often did, that this was a problem that would go away with a large enough check, or the keys to his luxury condo on Tyrador IX, or an offer of diplomatic immunity within the borders of the Dominion. Matt had specifically cautioned him not to offer these things to Mira unprompted, because she would absolutely accept them, but on top of that, he knew exactly what she would demand.

“She might ask for money if we were a client. She might ask for free weapons if we were her arms dealer. What she gets out of our relationship is something it’ll be much harder to give.”

“Oh Matthew,” Mira smiled, “you do listen!”

“One and a half,” Matt offered. 

“Five.” Mira replied instantly. 

“Three.”

“ And a seat at the high table,” Mira replied. 

“Absolutely not. I can offer you a position at my right hand in a strictly advisory capacity for the duration of the operation, so long as you promise not to speak to the press,” Matt offered, “and we’re back down to two.”

“Two, a guaranteed position as your right-hand man in this operation, no direct contact with the press, and my forces will be officially contracted to provide security at my standard rate. You can even dress them up in Dominion colors if you’re so worried about the neighbors gossiping,” Mira haggled back, “final offer.”

Matt smiled. “You’ve got a deal.” He reached into the pocket of his jacket and fished out the folded divorce papers. 

Mira did the same and offered him a contract which already had the exact terms they agreed to written on it. 

“How did you…” Matt asked. 

“I know you, Matthew,” Mira smirked, “and contract negotiation is my bread and butter. I knew how this would shake out before I even got your call. We sign on three?”

Matt nodded. “1… 2… 3!”

They both signed quickly and traded their contracts. 

“Pleasure doing business with you, Admiral,” Mira told him. 

“The pleasure, as always, is mine, Miss Han,” Matt saluted politely. 

Matt and Valerian were then escorted out, back to the Bucephalus. Once they were onboard, Valerian expressed confusion as to what he’d just witnessed. 

“I thought you said this was going to be painful,” Valerian said, “from where I’m standing, you basically just hired her as a private security contractor for some military operation.”

Matt laughed. “I wish. I told you, it’s all about what she gets out of our relationship. She thought it was funny that I was legally married to someone like her, so to get her to dissolve it…”

“You had to promise her something even funnier…” it dawned suddenly on Valerian. “Oh... oh no. ”

“Yeah,” Matt said, “I just asked Mira to be my best man.”

Valerian looked annoyed. “Do I even want to know what the numbers were?”

“Minutes,” Matt said, dodging the question.

“Minutes for… what…?” Valerian pressed.

“For how long of a…” Matt trailed off, mumbling the rest of his sentence. 

Valerian stated at him expectantly. 

After a few seconds, Matt relented, powered through his embarrassment, and said clearly, “ for how long of a toast she’s allowed to make. ”

Valerian sighed for several more seconds, slumped down into a nearby chair, sighed again, and dropped his head down to his chest. “I guess you weren’t wrong. It was painful.”

<I don’t know how the Terrans can stand to wear this,> Artanis said, <What purpose does this serve?>

Artanis held up a necktie and gestured wildly at it. It was pitch black and paired well with the pale blue suit his tailors had whipped up for him.

<Historically, it fastens the shirt closed.> Vorazun replied. 

<But the shirt has buttons.> Artanis said quizzically.

<I believe it’s purely decorative now,> Vorazun said. <I promise, it’ll look stylish on you.>

<Don’t Terrans have an organ in their necks that allows them to breathe? Why would they constrict it just for appearances?> Artanis asked, more rhetorically than anything else. <Are we sure Emperor Valerian Mengsk isn’t playing a practical joke on us?>

<He and Matt wore Protoss formalwear to our wedding. This is the least we can do.> Vorazun said. 

<Protoss formalwear makes sense!> Artanis said. <It allows a full range of motion and breathability. I feel like I’m suffocating in this suit. I’d rather wear what you’re wearing.>

Artanis gestured at Vorazun’s dress-- an elegant backless black gown with special slits along the sides for the points of her hips, and simple, understated gold accents running along the contours of her torso. 

<In Terran culture, this is a women’s garment.> Vorazun explained.

<Completely baffling,> Artanis said. <Men’s clothing, women’s clothing. On Aiur, we just have clothing. You wear it for form, function, and fit. What does gender have to do with clothes? >

<I’m sure our social and ethnic divisions are just as confusing to the terrans we invited to our wedding,> Vorazun explained, <the Terrans are almost as passionate about their categories as the Conclave was. Believe it or not, your wearing a woman’s dress to a diplomatic event would likely be a serious scandal.>

<That’s ridiculous,> Artanis replied. <I’ll wear the suit, if Emperor Valerian Mengsk and Admiral Matt Horner demand it, but as far as I’m concerned, if a garment fits you and you like how it looks, you should be able to wear it without fear of ridicule.>

<Didn’t you walk around wearing nothing but a loincloth for a lot of the Brood War?> Vorazun teased. 

<My point exactly,> Artanis explained, <I wore a piece of clothing that fit and looked good, and now I’m running the government. The Terrans could take a lesson from that.>

<You should put that in your toast! Tell Valerian he should try wearing a loincloth.>

Artanis laughed. <Does Highlord Alarak have to wear one of these ridiculous outfits?>

<Alarak is only invited because the Terrans don’t want to see Korhal glassed again,> Vorazun said, <I don’t think they’re likely to give him a hard time about the dress code.>

Artanis laughed again. <Good to see his bad behavior keeps getting rewarded.>

Vorazun brought herself close to Artanis and reached up to straighten his tie. <You know,> she said, <we have a bit of time before we have to leave, and this Terran garb is… surprisingly striking on you.>

<You’re one to talk!> Artanis replied. 

<It would be a shame if we let this opportunity pass us by,> Vorazun said. She knew that the former Khalai protoss were still not used to emotional subtlety, so she made sure to project all of her intentions into his mind. <Since I know I’ll never get you into an outfit like this again.>

It suddenly clicked with Artanis what she was suggesting. <I think we’ll have more than enough time!> Vorazun tugged gently on his tie and then began to walk back towards their bedchamber, still holding it. He happily followed. 

Following the End War, Valerian had made a controversial decision. He had installed a single Pylon with a single Warp Gate on a military base about half an hour outside Augustgrad. It was one of the few joint-operated military bases between the Dominion and the Daelaam. Dominion forces kept the Warp Gate under constant surveillance to make sure it couldn’t be used to launch an invasion, while Daelaam forces kept the Dominion forces under constant surveillance to make sure Terrans weren’t trying to steal Protoss warp technology. 

It had been installed as a precaution: should Aiur fall again, Korhal would be ready to both accept refugees and send support directly to the front lines. However, it was mostly used for diplomatic occasions such as these, allowing Hierarch Artanis and Matriarch Vorazun to warp directly to Korhal from Aiur. 

Highlord Alarak’s invitation had made it very clear he would not be allowed any such convenience. The Tal’darim Mothership was to enter the Korhal system but remain outside visual range of Korhal IV. He would then board a Terran dropship along with First Ascendant Ji’nara (who had been invited simply to prevent her from attacking the wedding from orbit to seize power for herself) so they could be checked for weapons before being allowed anywhere near the ceremony. 

<The indignity of it all,> Alarak announced to everyone sitting in his pew. The seating arrangements had been carefully arranged-- Terrans directly in front of the altar, Protoss seated on the right, and Zerg seated on the left. It was not an ideal solution, but Overqueen Zagara required custom-built seating. Besides, as foreign diplomats, it would be considered incredibly rude to sit them in the back row, and since both Overqueen Zagara and the Protoss dignitaries were all almost twice the height of any Terran, it would be incredibly rude to everyone else to make anyone sit behind them. 

The upshot of this is that the Protoss and Zerg dignitaries were seated in a place of honor. The downside was that it meant Alarak and Ji’nara were free to loudly complain to Artanis and Vorazun. 

<I’m surprised they convinced you to wear Terran clothes, Highlord,> Artanis said. 

<That alone is grounds for war!> Alarak announced. <They’re lucky I don’t annihilate Korhal a second time.>

Alarak’s suit and tie were both black, with a red shirt to match his eyes. Ji’nara seemed to be wearing the same suit, although it looked slightly better on her. Alarak was aware of this, and every telepath in the room could feel how upset he was about this. 

<They gave us these ridiculous outfits on the dropship. They said our armor made it too easy to conceal weapons. I tried to explain that this was the point of wearing it, but these Terrans don’t listen to reason.> Alarak explained. <This thing offers no protection whatsoever. A simpleton with a psi-screen and a butterknife could get the better of me.>

<I think that’s the point of their clothes,> Vorazun replied. <It’s to show that you don’t mean anyone here any harm, and that you trust they won’t harm you.>

Alarak considered this. <But I do mean them harm, and I don’t trust them.>

<And when you’re to be married, do you expect all of us to show up armed and armored?> Vorazun asked. 

<What makes you think any of you will be invited when I marry?> Alarak asked. <I don’t fear war with the Dominion or the Daelaam.>

<We wouldn’t declare war on you if you snubbed us,> Artanis explained, <we would just be offended.>

<And that’s why you won’t be invited,> Alarak said. 

Artanis sighed. <My darling, I’m sorry to leave you alone with him,> Artanis said privately to Vorazun, <but I must greet Overqueen Zagara and her… companion.>

Vorazun furrowed her brow. <Was it not enough that you allowed her at our wedding?>

<I know how you feel about her more than most,> Artanis said, <but the Daelaam needs to maintain its diplomatic relations with the Zerg Swarm. I’m not going to risk another war because I can’t extend the same courtesy to their god that we extend to…>

Artanis cut himself off. He could feel that Vorazun understood, but that it was pointless to try to talk her out of her feelings towards the woman. Vorazun always told him that reason had no bearing on emotion. It was well within her ability to understand someone’s point of view completely and still hold ill feeling towards them. Part of falling in love with her meant learning to embrace this contradiction.

<I will return soon,> he promised. 

And then, Vorazun surprised him. <Give her my best.>

This stopped Artanis cold. 

<Make no mistake,> Vorazun said, <I still hate her. I always will. But the Daelaam is more important than my grudge, and if this gesture shows Zagara we’re committed to peace, I am happy to make it.>

<I will pass along your well-wishes,> Artanis replied, his heart warmed. Perhaps falling in love with him had done Vorazun some good as well. 

<Don’t go crazy,> Vorazun said. <I don’t wish her any particular ill, that doesn’t mean I wish her well.>

Artanis nodded and walked away.

Alarak laughed. <I like you more and more each time we speak, Matriarch.>

<That was a private conversation,> Vorazun replied. 

<You don’t survive on Slayn without a penchant for eavesdropping.> Alarak laughed. 

Artanis walked across the half-full cathedral to the section where Overqueen Zagara was seated with her guest, a smallish terran woman dressed in all black, her face obscured by a black veil affixed to her pillbox hat. 

Zagara was also wearing a terran dress, although it had to be tailored extensively to fit her scorpion-like body shape. Artanis wondered who was responsible for tailoring the dress, and whether Zagara had been asked to wear it. 

<Overqueen Zagara, warmest regards on this joyous day.> Artanis beamed. 

<Hierarch Artanis,> Zagara replied, <It is good to see you.>

<You two are always so formal,> the Terran woman replied. It didn’t surprise him that she was able to communicate telepathically. <Artanis, it seems married life is suiting you.>

<Kerrigan,> he replied. <My wife sends her warmest regards.>

Kerrigan laughed. <So what, she’s sent you to kill me?>

Artanis balked. <Of course not! She simply wishes to convey... > He considered his words carefully. <A gesture of peace.>

<Christ, Artanis, I was being sarcastic.> Kerrigan replied, and laughed. She knew Artanis had a hard time with sarcasm. <It’s fine that she hates me. I’m not exactly pleased with myself for what I did to her mother either. But I appreciate that she’s willing to make nice. For the record, I don’t think Zagara would take offense if the whole of the Daelaam hated me.>

<I do not care,> Zagara said flatly. <We Zerg know the glory of our queen. It matters not if the Protoss and Terrans choose not to see it.>

<I appreciate that, Kerrigan.> Artanis said. 

Kerrigan laughed again. <You know, we’ve known each other for… what is it, twelve years now? How come I’m the only person you don’t address by full name and rank?>

Artanis looked puzzled and wracked his brain for some name or rank Kerrigan held he was unaware of. 

<I mean, you even called Jimmy “Friend Raynor,” I figured that’s as casual as you could get. But then you always just call me “Kerrigan,”> she explained. 

<Is that…> Artanis began, < not… your full name?>

Artanis could tell Kerrigan was suppressing a laugh, even under her veil. 

<You know my name is Sarah, right?> She asked. <Like, my name is Sarah Kerrigan. Not just “Kerrigan.”>

Artanis was mortified. He was a fairly straight-laced guy. It was considered incredibly disrespectful in Khalai culture to address someone by only a partial name. It was difficult enough that the Nerazim were a bit more casual with it, and it was always shocking when he spent time with Terrans, who seemed to relish in eschewing formality. 

He had come to understand from his association with James Raynor that eschewing formality was a way that Terrans conveyed comfort with another person. He had said “please, Mr. Raynor was my father. My friends call me Jim.” Artanis had never been able to bring himself to be so casual. “Friend Raynor” felt like a natural compromise. 

He had very little affection for Kerrigan-- for Sarah Kerrigan, that is-- but it was genuinely not until this moment that he knew she might have a name other than “Kerrigan.” After all, he had only one name! Most Protoss had only one name!

<Relax, Hierarch, it’s fine,> Kerrigan reassured. <I know you didn’t mean anything by it. I appreciate your coming to say hello. I know there’s no love lost between us.>

<For a time, I did resent that you received the gift promised to my people by the Xel’naga,> Artanis admitted, <but I realized quickly that my people needed to focus more on our own prosperity than how well we fit the expectations of deranged gods. It pains me to say it, but I think you’ve given us a great gift by preventing our ascension.>

<Call it a gift if you like,> Sarah replied. <I’m not so sure it’s not a curse. A punishment for all the lives I’ve taken.>

She did not specifically mention the Nerazim’s previous matriarch, Raszagal, but the thought of her came across nonetheless. 

<I’ve come to understand why you did what you did.> Artanis admitted. <You can’t blame yourself for what you did when you were in Amon’s thrall.>

<I can, and I do.> Kerrigan replied plainly. 

<I long blamed myself for the death of Zeratul,> Artanis confessed, <after all, he died by my hand, trying to save me from Amon’s control.>

<Amon never directly controlled me,> Kerrigan said. <The original Queen of Blades isn’t who I am, but she was me. I have it within me to grieve the lives I’ve taken and understand, on a logical level, who’s really responsible for those crimes. Reason doesn’t necessarily have a bearing on emotion.>

<It’s a shame,> Artanis said, <in another life, you and her could’ve been friends.>

<That is a shame. Either way, I’m glad I at least killed all the people who were responsible.>

This made Artanis laugh, much to his surprise. <And how does Emperor Valerian Mengsk feel about that? After all, his father died by your hand.>

<Are you kidding?> Sarah asked, <I’m pretty sure that’s why he invited me. Also, I’m pretty sure he’s afraid of me. I killed his father and his grandfather, and he knows I won’t hesitate to do the same to him if he starts acting like dear old dad.>

<He is a better man than his father,> Artanis admitted. 

<Yes,> Kerrigan said simply, <I think he is.>

They settled into silence for a few seconds. <I should be getting back to-- >

<Yes,> Kerrigan agreed, <Please, give her my best.> 

<My queen,> Zagara piped up quietly, <none of this was on the flash cards.>

<It’s fine, Zagara,> Kerrigan told her. <He’s an old friend. The flash cards are more for the reception.>

< --as a matter of fact,> Alarak said angrily to Vorazun, who was doing her best to shut out his incessant rant on Terran wedding customs, <the only thing I like about this laughable so-called “church” is the statue of a man being tortured. The Tal’darim prefer to use the real thing in our temples, but I suppose the Terrans don’t have the stomach for-- >

<I beg you, Alarak,> Vorazun pleaded. <Can I just… understand that you hate everything about being here and leave it at that?>

Alarak narrowed his eyes. 

<And another thing,> he continued, <Have you noticed that everyone here seems happy for the couple? I’m starting to think I’m the only enemy they even invited!>

Alarak continued to rant and ramble up about the various problems he had with Terran religion, culture, and wedding customs up to the moment the ceremony started, and no amount of pleading from Artanis or Vorazun would convince him to stop. He simply pouted through the ceremony. 

Artanis and Vorazun found the ceremony itself rather pleasant, and not just because it meant Alarak stopped talking. This was the royal wedding for the largest government in Terran history, and they could feel the buzz of excitement through not only the cathedral, but the whole city of Augustgrad. They were a bit confused, following the ceremony, when they were expected to move to a separate location across the city. 

Artanis and Vorazun were put in their own car in the motorcade directly behind Valerian and Matt’s vehicle, and just ahead of Highlord Alarak’s. Zagara sat in a specially-constructed vehicle just behind them, by herself-- as Kerrigan had told Artanis at his own wedding, she “doesn’t do parties”-- and they were all brought from the church to the Imperial Palace Ballroom.

“--and of course, this was the first time he got locked out of his house naked,” Horner’s strange Best Man, a woman with pink hair and a bionic eye, said after an excruciatingly embarrassing two minute speech, “but it would hardly be the last. Matthew, may you always have someone to let you back in from the cold. To Admiral Horner and Emperor Mengsk!”

Everyone toasted politely, including Matt, who was bright red, and Valerian, who couldn’t bring himself to look directly at what was happening. 

Alarak was, thankfully, seated at a separate table. On his left was a bearded, broad-shouldered black man with long locs and bright white eyes. Horner’s best man, the strange pink-haired woman, was seated on his left. Both of them looked like they wanted to kill him. Alarak looked delighted. 

Artanis and Vorazun were seated at a table with Overqueen Zagara, as well as a pair of Terrans who claimed to be with the press. There was a place set out for Nova Terra, but she was decidedly not in attendance. 

Matt and Valerian came over to their table shortly after dinner was served-- for the terrans, a pale pink fish served on a bed of pasta in the shape of rice, with a cream sauce drizzled on top. Zagara received the same dish, and initially regarded it with disgust, but after trying a shred of it, found herself delighted to finish the rest. 

“I must say, Overqueen, your table manners are impeccable. ” Valerian noted, genuinely impressed with how well Zagara handled a fork and knife.

<I have received extensive instruction on how to conduct oneself at a party,> Zagara explained, <I appreciate that you’ve noticed.>

“It looks like you’ve been doing it your whole life,” Matt commented. “Thank you again for coming, and for… passing along the invitation to your, uh.”

“To your friend.” Valerian said. “Please tell her it meant a lot to have her here too.”

“Artanis, Vorazun, are you enjoying yours?” Matt gestured at the bowls before them-- fruit juices, as had been served at Artanis and Vorazun’s wedding. “We appreciated the food you prepared for us so much that we wanted to return the favor.”

<It’s exquisite, Admiral,> Vorazun replied. 

<I only wish our chefs had done more research,> Artanis said. <Had we known a ham burger was not made of ham-- >

“Oh, no need to apologize!” Horner said, “It was delicious. In fact, you’ve started a bit of a culinary trend here on Korhal. Restaurants all over the planet are serving Protoss-Style Hamburgers made of ham.”

“We enjoyed the gesture so much, ” Valerian explained, “that we wanted to return the favor and treat you to a traditional Terran beverage.”

Matt produced two small bowls and Valerian produced a small red canister that hissed as he pried it open. He filled the bowls and set them before the Hierarch and Matriarch. 

“It’s called Coca-cola,” Valerian explained, “or as close as we’ve been able to recreate it, cut off from Old Earth. we think you’re going to like it.”

Artanis and Vorazun tentatively dipped their fingers in the bowl, and were immediately taken aback. It was a rich, sweet, not unpleasant flavor, but they were incredibly surprised by the bubbles that formed around their fingers. It was like the crackle of static electricity, just on the border of being painful. Neither of them had ever had anything quite like it. 

<Oh my,> Vorazun said. <We simply must take some of this back to Aiur.>

Artanis moved his finger around and enjoyed the tingle of the bubbles and the sticky-sweet taste. <What a wonderful sensation!> He exclaimed.

“We thought you’d feel that way,” Horner said, and he and Valerian both laughed. “Mr. Liberty, Ms. Lockwell, I trust you’re enjoying the festivities?”

“I’ve been to worse,” the Terran reporter apparently named Liberty said, “I’m still not convinced this whole thing isn’t just a plot to have me arrested.”

“I’m not my father, Mr. Liberty,” Valerian said. “Although I do hope we can count on your discretion with regards to… the best man toast.”

The reporter named Lockwell stifled a laugh. 

“You still working under Handy, Kate?” Liberty asked Lockwell, who nodded silently, “Yeah, no way would he run that story.”

“And you, Mike?” Matt asked. 

“Oh, I’ve already uploaded my recording,” Mike Liberty said, “You’re not your dad, but I’m still me.”

Matt sighed. “Great.”

Alarak, apparently annoyed with the amount of attention others were receiving, walked up behind Matt and Valerian. 

<Emperor, Admiral.> He said, almost respectfully. <I must say, I much prefer my dining companions here than at… the last wedding I attended. Mr. Tosh has already threatened to kill me, and Ms. Han is trying to organize a card game.>

Horner considered giving him a heads-up about what tended to happen when people played cards with Mira Han, but decided, on a whim, that it would be funnier to see how it played out.

Chapter Text

Sarah Kerrigan stood, practically invisible, outside the palace in Augustgrad. The last time she’d seen this palace, she was floating away from its ashes after decapitating the dictator who’d betrayed her and left her for dead. She had defeated that slike Duran who’d manipulated her through the Brood War, and had ended Amon, the demonic force responsible for so much of her suffering. There were no more enemies left to slay, no more armies to burn, no way left for anyone to hurt her. 

And yet, here she remained. She had brought justice to the Terran Dominion, but still didn’t feel peace had found her. She knew that only another Xel’naga could kill her now, and there were no other Xel’naga left to do so. She would persist forever, through the end of the universe and the beginning of the next, and so on and so on, ad infinitem. 

She would be alone forever. She could kill the people who’d hurt her, but she couldn’t bring back the people she’d lost. Her parents. The love of her life. The lives she’d taken. These people were gone from this universe forever, and there was nothing that could ever bring them back. 

She thought it was about time she got used to that. She had an eternity of it ahead of her.

“Now,” a deep voice said from behind her, “even you can’t think that’s true.”

She turned around and saw the man who’d been seated at Alarak’s table, with his long locs and pearl-white eyes. She hadn’t sensed his approach, which seemed almost impossible.

“You won’t be able to sense a thing unless I want you to,” he said with a smirk. “Love can change a man, and my first great love gave me a little parting gift.”

“Mr. Tosh,” Kerrigan said. “Jim spoke highly of you. I must’ve gotten careless if you could read my thoughts . ”

“Ah, Mr. Raynor,” he said, “now that’s a man I haven’t seen in-- say, where is he these days?”

Kerrigan brushed off this comment. 

“How can you see me?” She asked. “I’m cloaked so deep that no scan could pick me up.”

“Don’t need no scan,” Tosh said plainly. “I used to think I was just losing it. Terrazine can do funny things to a man’s brain. I thought I was seeing things. But then I finally stopped fighting it. I see the truth. The dead never truly leave us, especially those of us that killed them.”

Kerrigan scoffed. “Hollow platitudes.”

“Ain’t no platitude, girl,” Tosh snapped. “You were a ghost, like me. They named us right, because nobody’s haunted like we are. I didn’t need a scan to find you, all I had to do was ask. ”

“Ask who? ” Kerrigan asked. 

Tosh hesitated. “Patrick.” 

“Excuse me?” Kerrigan asked. “How do you know that name? I should kill you where you stand.”

Tosh laughed. “He told me, ” he explained. “It’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. How many people have you killed? How many have died in front of you? People like us, we don’t shake that off so easy. Normal folk can’t see them, but we’re haunted by the ghosts we had a hand in creating.”

It dawned on Kerrigan that he was right. Everyone she’d ever killed, everyone she’d ever seen die, even before she was the Queen of Blades, she knew everything about them. Their hopes and dreams, their fears, their favorite colors, everything. It was hard to shake. 

“That’s why they brain-pan us and wipe our memories,” Tosh said. “We see so much death, most of us would be driven insane if we could hear the voices of the dead. At first, I thought I was going crazy and hallucinating. Grandma Tosh always told me I was chosen by the loa for a greater purpose, though, and I eventually realized she was right. The dead don’t leave us, not ever. Not just the memory, not just their emotions. The people themselves. It’s just that only people like us can see them--”

“And most of us choose not to,” Kerrigan said, realizing what he was getting at, “because people like us are forced to… The guilt would kill us.”

“But there ain’t nothing left could kill you, right?” Tosh asked, “and you got all the time in the world for feeling the guilt. Hang on, I want you to meet somebody. Sugar, talk to her.”

Sarah suddenly noticed a beautiful young woman standing next to Tosh. She was there and, at the same time, Sarah knew she was not there. 

“Hello, Ms. Kerrigan,” she said, “it’s an honor. You were kind of a ghost academy legend growing up.”

“...My pleasure,” Sarah said. “I’m afraid I don’t know you.”

“My name is Kath Toom,” she said, “You and I have a lot in common. We were both ghosts. We both had fathers killed by the government. We were both betrayed and killed by fascist sociopaths posing as The Resistance.”

This piqued Sarah’s interest. 

“She’s the love of my life,” Tosh said. “And she died years ago. I buried her body myself, on Haji. But here she is. And sure is sure, you know you’re not just pulling her from my memories, because, well… you can’t read my mind.”

Sarah tried to test this theory and found she was, in fact, unable to get even a glimmer of his thoughts from him. It was almost refreshing. 

“I’m real, Sarah,” Kath explained. “And my being here means…” 

“I can make things right,” Sarah said. “I can create life with a thought. I could bring back all the innocent people I killed and return them to their families.”

“You could,” Tosh said, “but you shouldn’t.”

This angered Sarah, and Tosh felt it. 

“I’m sorry, but most people, they can’t handle the dead coming back,” Tosh explained. “Besides, not all of them would even want to talk to you. A lot of the dead have found peace, and their families have mourned them. Bringing them back would be cruel to everyone involved, most of all them.”

Sarah felt her eyes begin to glow orange. “Then why are you telling me any of this?!”

“Well, I figure there’s gotta be some reason we can talk with them,” Tosh suggested. “The dead can’t come back to the world of the living, but maybe some of them wouldn’t mind coming back and getting to live out their years in safety and comfort.”

“If only someone had access to a dimension that the living can only travel to with her permission,” Kath suggested. “Maybe with a big unoccupied temple that’s just collecting dust.”

“You can’t undo what’s been done,” Tosh suggested, “but maybe you can do a little more about your sins than just feel guilty.”

“This is almost too good to be true,” Sarah said, and something dawned on her. “What’s in it for you, Tosh?”

Tosh laughed loudly, a laugh that came from deep in his belly. “You think I’m ashamed of having ulterior motives? I tell you that the love of my life is dead and you can bring her back, and you wonder what’s in it for me?”

“I thought the living couldn’t handle the dead coming back.”

“ Most of the living,” Tosh corrected. “I’ve been seeing ghosts my whole life. I figure we have these powers because we’re the ones who can handle it.”

“It’s not just about righting past wrongs, though,” Kath explained. “I mean… after all you’ve been through, don’t you deserve to see the people you love again?”

Sarah found herself tapping the almost bottomless well of self-loathing at the back of her mind. “They wouldn’t want to see what I’ve become.”

Tosh laughed his belly-laugh again. “Who do you think’s talked to ‘em more recently, me or you?”

“Would your father have told Tosh where you were if he didn’t want to see you?” Kath suggested. 

“Here, let me prove it to you.” Tosh said, and reached for her head. She flinched away. “Trust me.”

“I have a bad history with strange men messing with my head,” Sarah told him, and her eyes glowed orange again.

“Me too,” Tosh smirked, “but do you really think I’m powerful enough to hurt you?”

“I don’t know what you are,” Kerrigan said. 

“I’m a ghost,” Tosh said, “and I owe you one for killing Mengsk. Damn near got myself killed trying to do the same. Most of the people in this city think you’re a monster, but me and Kath, we know the truth. If they knew the whole story, they’d be building a damned statue of you in the town square.”

Sarah laughed derisively. “Let’s hope they never find out the whole story, then.” She couldn’t read Tosh’s mind, but she could sense every wrinkle of Kath’s, and she suddenly knew that Tosh meant her no harm. “If you try anything funny, I’ll turn you to atoms where you stand.”

“It would be an honor,” Tosh smirked again, and placed his fingers gently on her temples, “but I think I’d rather be serious and alive than a funny dead man.”

Kerrigan felt the slightest psychic push and something unlocked. 

“Sarah?” She heard a soft male voice from behind her. It was unmistakable. She could feel his mind. Nobody would ever be able to fake it, it was really him. Tosh was telling the truth. 

“Somo?!” She practically shrieked. “My god, it’s really you.”

Somo embraced her, and she could almost feel his spectral arms around her. “Sarah, what have they done to you?”

“I’m so sorry, Somo, I’m--”

“No need to be sorry,” Somo whispered. “Sarah, you don’t ever need to be sorry with me. 

“We’ll leave you two alone,” Tosh said, “give us a call when you’re heading back to the void.”

It was really him. No tricks, no illusions, no hallucinations of holograms. 

“I’m sorry you have to see what I’ve become,” Sarah said. 

“I saw,” he said. “I never left your side, not for a minute. And do you know what I saw?”

Kerrigan began to cry and wished desperately that she could really hold him.

“I saw the only woman I’ve ever loved crawl through hell with the devil on her heels,” Somo said, “and I saw her come out the other side intact.”

“He made me into a monster,” she cried. 

“He was a monster,” Somo said plainly. “I fell in love with a freedom fighter who survived being used as a weapon. You think anything’s changed because someone used you as a weapon again? You think the fact that you killed a dictator makes me love you less?”

Sarah laughed. Somo had, somehow, always known the exact right thing to say.

“I’m not even human anymore,” she said. 

“Hey, me neither,” he said. “You wanna get some coffee and talk about it?”

Sarah laughed again. “I think I know just the place,” she said, “I just need to do something first.”

“I’ll be here,” he said. 

Sarah went back inside and walked directly up to Vorazun. She was cloaked so that only incredibly powerful psionics could detect her. Vorazun had sensed her presence, and Sarah could feel her disappointment. Vorazun thought she had opted not to come to the party, and was glad to not have to spend the evening talking to her. 

“Matriarch, Hierarch, I need a word with you outside, now,” she said. 

This took them both aback. 

<Why would I go anywhere with you? > Vorazun asked. 

“If you come with me into the courtyard for five minutes, you will never have to speak to me again unless you specifically ask to do so,” she said, “deal?”

<DEAL,> Vorazun said immediately. She grabbed Artanis by the hand and pulled him outside behind Sarah. 

“I promise you won’t regret this,” Sarah told her. 

<What is it you need to show us so badly?> Vorazun asked. 

Kerrigan placed one finger on each of their foreheads and offered a gentle psychic push. 

“Take as long as you need,” she said, “they’ll be here soon.”

<Who will-- > Vorazun began to ask, but Kerrigan was gone. 

<That was strange.> Artanis said hesitantly. 

< Mother?! > Vorazun proclaimed. Artanis turned to see what she was talking about. Standing before them was Matriarch Raszagal, not quite in the flesh. 

He spun around and saw many familiar faces. His dear mentors Tassadar and Zeratul. His cherished friend Fenix. 

<I shall never forgive Kerrigan,> Raszagal mused, <but I cannot fault her for giving me the chance to see what you’ve built. My daughter reunited the tribes of Aiur. I couldn’t be more proud.>

<Is it really you?> Vorazun asked. Raszagal nodded, and Vorazun was able to sense with complete clarity that it was true.

Vorazun was overwhelmed. <How much time do we have together?>

<As much as you need,> Raszagal said warmly. <She said she wanted to give you back what she’d taken from you, and I couldn’t argue with that.>

Vorazun found it incredibly hard to maintain her grudge against Kerrigan in that moment. She was sure it would return, but for now it was a distant memory.

Artanis looked around at his friends. Kerrigan had killed Fenix, but her hands were clean in the case of Tassadar and Zeratul. There was no sin for her to wash away there. This wasn’t just about her setting right the wrongs she’d committed. She was actually being kind. 

<It is most fantastic to see you once again, my cherished friend Artanis,> Fenix said, his strange manner of speaking unchanged by the years of being dead. <But I must ask… what manner of strange garment are you wearing?>

Chapter Text

EPILOGUE -- 400 YEARS LATER

“What do you want to do tonight?” Somo Kerrigan-Hung asked his wife. He asked this every night, and they had yet to come up with an unsatisfactory answer. 

Sarah stroked the fur of the tuxedo cat she’d had in the early days of her ghost training. It had suffered a painful death because someone wanted to use her as a weapon, but it gave little thought to that. From her point of view, she had gotten terribly sick once as a kitten, fallen asleep, and woke up perfectly healthy in the arms of the girl who loved her. The girl was now grown, even though she’d been a child moments earlier, but smelled the same, and that was good enough for the kitten. She was a cat, when things worked out for her, she just accepted it. 

“Well,” she said, “I figure tomorrow we’re having brunch with your parents, so maybe tonight we have dinner with mine. My dad’s making a shepherd’s pie and I think my mom’s just about done with that book you lent her.”

“Sounds nice,” Somo said, and sat down on the plush couch next to her, pulling her tight to himself. 

Sarah looked up at the many framed photos on her wall. One showed her and Somo’s own wedding atop the pillars of creation. Another showed her and Somo with Jim and Ariel, kayaking on a solar flare. A third showed her and Kath dancing together at one of Tosh And The Screamer’s concerts. Another was Matt and Valerian’s wedding photo-- they had joined them hundreds of years previously. Valerian had lived and died without Sarah needing to make good on her threat.

She had kept her word and never once contacted Artanis or Vorazun, who were still alive Aiur, but she did check up on them from time to time. The Daelaam was strong, and the pair were still happily married and had made excellent parents. 

The one person in the mortal world she still kept in contact with-- the only person she’d loved in her previous life who was still alive-- was her daughter Zagara. It had been a bit tough at first to get her to accept Somo as a father, but Somo saw a lot of Sarah in her, and they eventually became close. 

Sarah had everything she ever wanted. She had finally overcome her guilt and self-loathing over the centuries, and had taken great pleasure in setting her past sins right. Now it was time for her reward. 

Somo stroked her hair, if the antennae-like zerg appendages on her head that day could be called “hair.” She would wear her Terran face when she went to visit her parents, and she liked to wear her Xel’naga form to travel through normal space, but when it was just her and Somo at home, she was usually most comfortable being the Queen. Her eyes glowed a soft purple and she cradled Somo in her wings. She could do this forever. 

And she did.