A/N: This story disregards novels, comics, video games, and any other "Star Trek" media besides the TV shows and movies. If memory serves, those things are not considered "canon" anyhow.

I had to do maybe an hour of research online, to refresh my memory of a lot of these characters, and make sure I wasn't breaking any obvious canon facts. Apologies for any mistakes.

Edit: I changed the name of Tom and B'Elanna's son. (It wouldn't make much sense for both their kids to have Klingon names, with them being only one-forth Klingon. Miral is only named Miral for B'Elanna's mother after all.)

The house of Chancellor Martok was already crowded with Klingons when the Paris-Torres family arrived. The entire dimly-lit hall was given a fiery tint, from the flickering light cast by the candles and fire pits, and helped by the blood red banners. In one corner, a trio of warriors led a small crowd in a drinking song. Some Klingon waiters walked around offering guests living food and bloodwine. The men were all dressed in ceremonial armor; the women, in long gowns adorned with metallic ornaments and thin chains.

Sirella, Martok's wife, greeted each of the guests at the doorway. The Lady of the house carried herself like a noblewoman, rather than a warrior, and that relieved B'Elanna. Sirella wore a long gown of dark greens and blues, elegantly decorated, but modest (none of the revealing cleavage Klingon women were somewhat infamous for).

B'Elanna hoped she'd done her wardrobe research thoroughly. She'd talked Tom into wearing Klingon armor, complete with a three-bladed dagger on his belt. B'Elanna herself wore a variation of the ceremonial gown she'd had when presenting herself as the mother of the Kuvah'Magh, with the iridescent sash and the targ-furred sleeves, but she had changed the hue from green to red. Miral, now ten years old, wore something similar, done in purple. Their son Robert (named for one of Tom's favorite authors), six years old, and sandy-haired like his father, had an armor-like outfit of a simpler style, without weapons.

"You must be B'Elanna," Sirella said. "Daughter of Miral. And Thomas Paris." She dipped her head to B'Elanna's husband. "Slayers of Borg, and enemies no one in this quadrant has ever seen,"

Tom laughed modestly. "Well—"

B'Elanna kicked him. Sirella wasn't trying to flatter them; she was only giving them the same complimentary greeting every guest was receiving.

Sirella pretended not to notice. "And your children, Miral and Robert."

B'Elanna's daughter and son stayed silent, just as B'Elanna had told them to be.

"Welcome to my Lord Martok's house."

The family wove through the crowd, finding familiar faces. In the ten years since Voyager's return to the Alpha Quadrant, the ship's former senior staff had continued to have their little adventures here and there—as they served aboard other ships or space stations, or were called out of retirement in crises—and wound up getting involved with many other high-profile names. Worf was in the drinking-song-crowd, with a younger man who B'Elanna recognized as his son Alexander. Many of the familiar faces were actually from the tiny smattering of non-Klingons at this party: Captain Jean-Luc Picard (who still, even at his age, refused a promotion), Captain William Riker, and his wife Deanna Troi. B'Elanna didn't recognize the pair of Andorians who walked by, dressed in their own culture's battle-outfits. Nor the aged Romulan man, linking arms with his Klingon wife. But she knew Commander Ezri Dax, who stood talking to a few older warriors, wearing a long armored gown.

"B'Elanna!" the party's aged host moved to greet the family. "Daughter of Miral! You've finally made it to one of my Empire Union Day Celebrations!"

Martok was like his wife; strong, battle-scarred, and not to be crossed, but clam and welcoming. He had none of the brutish qualities that annoyed B'Elanna about many Klingons. His gray hair looked more frazzled than ever (though that might have been deliberate, since it wasn't uncommon for Klingons to style their hair for celebrations). His left eye socket was still fused shut under a mangled scar; the Chancellor refused to ever be given a prosthetic eye.

"Chancellor Martok, it's a pleasure!" B'Elanna introduced Tom and their children.

The family conversed with the host for a few minutes, catching up and sharing memories. B'Elanna became a tad uncomfortable when the subject of Miral's "destiny" came up.

"So you're the Kuvah'Magh," Martok said humorously to Miral. "At least according to some Klingons in the Delta Quadrant."

Miral shrugged, looking embarrassed. "I'm thinking I'd rather be a pilot."

Worf's son Alexander came to join the conversation. "You can pilot your followers to their new home, then!" Miral just shrugged. "I'm only joking."

Despite being three-fourths Klingon, Alexander sounded very human, and when he smiled at Miral one was reminded of his human teeth. Alexander conversed with the kids using the typical grownup-to-child questions: how old they were, what grade they were in school, what they knew about the Empire Union Day celebration. The subject eventually returned to the unusual circumstances surrounding Miral's birth.

"…I've always had trouble with my fighting skills," Alexander said, "ever since first joining the Klingon Defense Force. But you've already got something to boast, don't you. Born while Voyager was flying through a wormhole, chased by Borg cubes, on their way home and crippling the Collective at once," Alexander cocked his head modestly. "That's nothing to sneeze at!"

Miral shrugged once more, but was giggling. "Too bad I don't remember any of it!"

"No, but I bet it makes a great story for your friends."

"Oh yeah."

B'Elanna noticed her little Robert staring at the ground. Though only six, Robbie was already noticing the praise and fame his sister got, just for having the luck to be born during their parents' time on Voyager.

Alexander took notice, and gestured to Robbie. "You don't need any stories, do you. You look like you'll be a fierce warrior either way!" Robbie was young enough for the cheap flattery to have some effect. "You own any weapons for battle yet?"

"I have a bat'leth," Robbie said. "My great-grandpa gave me."

B'Elanna's Klingon grandfather had indeed given her son a sword for battle, before the boy had even been born. The gesture was largely due to the fact that Miral had received one as well, by the leader of the Klingons who believed her to be their savior.

"How about a dagger?" Alexander drew from his belt a short double-bladed dagger, with a handle wrapped in blue leather durka-hide. "I…took on a few enemies of the Empire with this little bad-boy. But I'll bet you can use it better, someday."

Miral's brown eyes widened. "Careful where you stick that thing Robbie!"

B'Elanna's lips parted, but she couldn't decide what she wanted to say. She swapped a glance with Tom, who looked excited for their son.

"Your first knife at age six, Robbie! Not bad!" Tom complimented.

Alexander moved out of the way, while Robbie tried out his new dagger, stabbing invisible enemies in the air. The sight brought back some memories for B'Elanna. About another half-Klingon, who had once befriended her.

Klingon/human hybrids were not completely unheard of. But the phenomenon was unusual enough that the prospect of B'Elanna ever meeting one on the same planet as her, much less the same age, was off the table. B'Elanna's childhood wasn't a pleasant one. After B'Elanna's father left, her mother had moved her to Quo'nos, pulling her out of the Federation school she'd been attending, and placing her in a Klingon monastery, to teach her "honor and discipline."

It didn't go well.

B'Elanna fought with her teachers, verbally and physically. When given a dagger by one instructor, as a gesture of encouragement, B'Elanna took it home and disassembled it, working the three blades and handle into a personal engineering project (a sort of old-fashioned food blender). She didn't speak to any of her classmates, many of whom bullied her with "challenges," knowing she'd never be strong enough to take them on.

Then one day, when B'Elanna was a preteen, a special guest arrived to speak to the class. It was Ambassador K'Ehleyr. The school of Klingon children crowded into the stone lobby of the monastery, and listened while K'Ehleyr gave a little presentation on Klingon etiquette for diplomacy. B'Elanna marveled at how the Ambassador's ridges were smoothed down, like her own; her long brown hair was smooth and straight, like B'Elanna's; and her teeth appeared human.

Finally, one of B'Elanna's bullies—a little twit named To'Mak—blurted out, "Why do you look so human?"

"Because I am half human." K'Ehleyr said without missing a beat. "My mother was a human, and my father a Klingon. Being half-and-half is what's made me so good at my job." She raised one thick eyebrow. "Unfortunately I've inherited the worst of both words—my father's temper and my mother's sense of humor."

B'Elanna surprised everyone, including herself, by laughing a little.

K'Ehleyr dipped her head at B'Elanna, looking at her under her eyebrows. "Your ridges look a bit smoother than usual." Then, suddenly, K'Ehleyr switched languages, and asked B'Elanna in English, "Am I looking at another hybrid?"

B'Elanna was startled to hear English being spoken to her by a stranger once again. It was her first language, but once her mother had moved them to Quo'nos, that had to end. Klingon was the official language here, and many civilian Klingons didn't speak English. Her mother did, but even at home, Miral had begun to insist that she and B'Elanna speak Klingon, for practice.

B'Elanna's classmates were staring at her and the ambassador, most of them having heard an indiscernible alien language. It brought a feeling of triumph in B'Elanna. Proudly, she answered K'Ehleyr in English.

"Yes. Half-Klingon, half-human."

"So you've got the best of both worlds too, huh?"

B'Elanna didn't answer this. K'Ehleyr realized she'd made B'Elanna uncomfortable, and changed the subject, continuing with her presentation in Klingon.

After school let out for the day, B'Elanna sat on the steps of the monastery, waiting for her mother to pick her up in her hovercraft. B'Elanna refused to take the school transport home, having to put up with the other children enough during class. She sat with a PADD in her hands, looking over her math homework (even Klingons had to learn their seven-times-tables—how else would they be able to count and divide the enemies that needed slaying, or how many hearts each fighter got to eat?).

"You look like you've seen better days."

B'Elanna saw K'Ehleyr's reflection in the dark screen of her PADD. She looked up to see the older hybrid taking a seat on the steps next to her.

"I've seen worse ones too." B'Elanna finally answered.

"That's the spirit!"

K'Ehleyr's voice was low and slick, almost sounding sarcastic, but not in a cruel way. She sounded like she was agreeing with B'Elanna, on how unfair the universe was. B'Elanna decided that she liked the way K'Ehleyr talked.

"Nice view," K'Ehleyr said, looking out at the cityscape, with its curved pointed towers and roves.

"I think it's hideous." B'Elanna said.

"You're not really a fan of this place, are you…what's your name again?"

"B'Elanna."

"B'Elanna. You like Earth better?"

"I like anything better. Anything's better than being a Klingon."

"Anything?" K'Ehleyr cocked her head. "Would you rather be half Vulcan?"

B'Elanna considered it. Would her father have left a Vulcan wife, and a half-Vulcan daughter? Vulcans would be so much calmer. He'd probably love a quiet Vulcan wife. And if she wanted to look human, all she'd need to hide were her ears.

"That wouldn't be so bad." B'Elanna glanced down at her PADD. "I'd probably be better at math."

"Math?" K'Ehleyr gave a soft, short laugh. "You think being a Vulcan would automatically make you smarter? Tell you something sweetie, Vulcans only seem smart because they've got nothing else to do with their time except study. They can't go out partying at a club, they can't challenge each other to duels just for the hell of it, can't tell jokes, can't pummel people who make them mad."

B'Elanna chewed her lip. "Guess being a Vulcan would be pretty boring."

"I'll say." K'Ehleyr rested her head, with her temple in her thumb and forefinger, pretending to think. "So we don't want to be Vulcans…How about Andorians. You wanna be blue?"

B'Elanna imagined, just momentarily, trying to hide blue skin and antenna. She shook her head violently.

"What about Orians? No? …Ferengi?"

B'Elanna made a face with her tongue. "Ferengi are hideous."

"Woa, now. Let's not get racist, alright?" K'Ehleyr's mouth turned up in a half-smile. "All I'm trying to tell you B'Elanna is, you need to look at it from the big picture. I'm not saying being a half-human and half-Klingon was gonna be my first choice. But on the whole, things could've been a lot worse." She shrugged one shoulder. "So I smash a few tables when I'm angry, and I tell some horrible jokes when I'm trying to be funny. At least I can make a good ambassador." She shrugged again. "Any idea what you might do when you're older?"

B'Elanna looked out at the sky, which was darkening. "Get away from here."

"Back to Earth? Or—where was it your father was from?"

"He came from Earth, but we lived on a colony out by…" B'Elanna gave her head a tiny shake. "But I don't wanna go there either. I just wanna jump into a starship and fly away. Maybe a trading vessel. Or maybe—I'm not sure yet—Starfleet. I just know I wanna be on a ship. Or a space station. Just as long as I'm away from…"

"Hmm…Starfleet could use someone with a bit of Klingon blood. You'd have a lot more stamina than your human comrades."

"Yeah," B'Elanna wasn't sure if she liked the idea of being around humans again, but she definitely liked the idea of being stronger than them. "Maybe."

After they parted ways, K'Ehleyr wrote B'Elanna a letter a few months later, to ask how she was doing. The two became occasional pen-pals, writing here and there, and they met in person a few more times at Klingon festivals. Though they weren't speaking every day, K'Ehleyr left an impression. B'Elanna began to imitate the older woman's smooth sarcasm, using irritable quips to deal with her problems, as a way to hold off the physical rages.

After B'Elanna joined Starfleet Academy, K'Ehleyr showed up once more, to speak to the cadets, and had had lunch with B'Elanna afterwards.

"Sorry to hear things aren't going so well back home," K'Ehleyr said, munching her grilled cheese.

"I'm not." B'Elanna stirred her tomato soup. "It's been so much more peaceful now."

"Has it?"

In fact, things had been far from peaceful.

"I mean 'peaceful' when I'm not in class." B'Elanna finally said.

"Don't tell me you've started breaking glass tables like me."

"No, not tables. Just my classmate's cheekbones."

"Oh, do tell."

B'Elanna rolled her eyes to the side. "Well, if you must know, I had a little disagreement with one of my lab partners. She told me to…'bottle my Klingon rage just for a few microns so she could finish speaking,' aaand IIII guess I slapped her a little harder than I meant to. She got fractures on her cheekbone and jaw."

"Ooo, ouch."

In all the times B'Elanna confessed how her rages got her into trouble to K'Ehleyr, the older hybrid never scolded her or told her off for it. And she never offered any patronizing questions about what B'Elanna was "really so angry about," or what she was "trying to prove." It was probably one of her skills as a diplomat—knowing which arguments were already cliché, and would fall to deaf ears. K'Ehleyr knew how to listen.

"So how're things between the Federation and the Empire?" B'Elanna asked.

"Oh…could be better."

"Just better? Not worse too?"

K'Ehleyr sighed. "It's a long story...tell you what; when it's over, I'll write you."

K'Ehleyr's letter never came.

Instead, B'Elanna read about her violent murder, in the news.

It seemed K'Ehleyr had had a child, out of wedlock, whom she'd kept on a very low profile. B'Elanna was almost hurt that her friend hadn't considered telling her about something so big, but then reminded herself that she and K'Ehleyr were hardly blood sisters. The woman's blown secret had probably left dozens of friends and cousins baffled. K'Ehleyr had come aboard the Enterprise, to introduce her son to his father, Worf, as well as to handle some sort of dispute between a couple of Klingon leaders. For unclear reasons, K'Ehleyr had done something to anger one of them—either an unforgivable insult to his family, or threatening to expose some closely-guarded secret—and he had responded by stabbing her multiple times, and leaving her for dead in her quarters.

The only small comfort B'Elanna could find for herself was that K'Ehleyr's murderer had been given what he deserved, killed by Worf himself. She spent more than one night trying to fight off her tears by imagining herself on the ship, watching Worf kill that Duras, maybe even helping him do it. Her attitude in school became even worse after K'Ehleyr's death. Her grades dropped, and she got into more fights. A few people tried to ask her what was wrong, or—if they knew—offer condolences, and she pushed them away.

"I lost every family I ever had," B'Elanna had once told Chakotay.

She'd told him about her father walking out on her. She'd told him about being kicked out of the Academy, and being separated from the Maquis. Finding out that all her friends in the Maquis were dead. But B'Elanna hadn't had time to list everything. She hadn't mentioned the little clique of delinquents in the Federation school, that she'd become a part of for a few months—whom she'd had little adventures with, playing hookie and pranking their bullies, until Darren had been permanently expelled, and Guillermo had slipped while playing on a bridge and spent the next year in a coma. She hadn't mentioned her human cousins, who'd tried to make her feel welcome during her teenage-hood, and for a while she could say most anything to, until Elizabeth got pregnant at age seventeen, and Dean started to get more obsessively religious, turning the relationship awkward. And she hadn't mentioned K'Ehleyr.

If there was one thing B'Elanna was absolutely adamant on giving her children, it was stability. She and Tom made sure they had a steady relationship with both sides of their family, visiting Tom's parents and B'Elanna's father and maternal grandparents at least once a year. They had enrolled Miral in a summer camp on Ktaris-3 for hybrid children, where she canoed and fenced and swam with human/Vulcan mixes, Vulcan/Romulans, Andorian/Orians, and so on. When Robbie turned eight, they'd be enrolling him as well.

Alexander was play-fighting Robbie with their knives (Alexander had a few extras on his belt), while Miral played the announcer, keeping score and providing a commentary. Tom was in a conversation with Ezri Dax, and the Romulan.

"I didn't realize you could become a Klingon just by marrying one!" Tom said.

"Depending on who you ask, I was already a Klingon two hosts ago." Dax said over her bloodwine. "Kurzon made a blood oath with a group of warriors, which Jadzia would up finishing for him. Then when she married Worf, she joined the house of Mogh."

"But you aren't married to Worf now," the Romulan said.

Ezri shook her head. "No. Worf married Jadzia Dax, not Ezri Dax. Worf and I are just friends now."

B'Elanna and Worf had become casual friends since Voyager's return to Earth. He knew about her friendship with K'Ehleyr. Worf was over by Martok, deep in a conversation about honor.

A feminine voice cut in behind B'Elanna. "Seems all of the not-quite Klingons are converging."

B'Elanna turned, to find herself faced with a Klingon woman with smoky-brown skin and caramel-colored hair. Her ridges and brow were quite striking, forming a clean V that began above her nose and spread up to her hairline. Her eyes were shadowed under an abnormally thick brow, completed with eyebrows that were rather thin and slick-looking for a Klingon.

"Seems so." B'Elanna said. "I don't think we've met. B'Elanna Torres."

"Ba'el." She gestured to the old Romulan, talking to Ezri and Tom. "That's my father, Tokath."

"Oh!" B'Elanna looked back at Ba'el. "You're…"

"A half-Klingon." Ba'el moved her thick hair aside to show her pointed ears. "My mother Gi'ral was one of a few Klingons who lived in a Romulan prison camp. My father was in charge, and he married her."

"Gi'ral," B'Elanna said. "My mother's name was Miral."

Ba'el raised her hands in a shrug-like gesture. "Small world!"

The two women strode towards the refreshments table, to get some bloodwine, as they chatted away, getting to know one another.

A/N: On "durka-hide:" I made it up on the spot. I just figure, there must be some animals on Quo'Nos besides a targ. Seems everything Klingon related is targ-this and targ-that.

Websites I referred to, for information on the characters:

Memory Alpha

Ex Astris Scientia: Bernard Schneider's Star Trek Site

The Klingon Armada International

and You Tube (for clips from episodes).

Sorry that Worf was barely featured here. But I wanted to focus on B'Elanna meeting other Klingon hybrids. And—phaser me for this if you want—but I'm not a huge fan of Worf.

Apologies if anyone is out of character. I know the "Voyager" and "Deep Space Nine" characters very well, but the "Next Generation" ones I have trouble with. I like K'Ehleyr, but only saw bits of her. Ba'el, I never saw her episode at all; I read about her online, and looked up a few clips on You Tube. If I can in any way improve the way someone is portrayed here, let me know and I will almost certainly do it. Thanks for reading.

Oh, and if anyone's wondering, Robbie Paris actually is named after Robert Louie Stephenson, author of "Treasure Island." (I don't recall if Tom's a fan of that book, but being a fan of "Moby Dick" and Jules Verne, I'm sure he would be. And Robbie also fit, as a reference to Tom Paris's actor.)

Cheese out.