Author's Note: This short story is set during Wade's reign over the Alliance, two years after the Voltron Force lions are grounded. I'm not gonna say anything more, I've told you too much already.
I own nothing except my characters and my planets, and I do this for fun only, not profit.
The lyrics to this amazing (and fitting) song are dedicated to Mer3Girl.
"And you said
And you did
And you said you would find me here.
And you said that you would find me even in Death.
And you said
And you said you'd find me...
But I can't see New York
As I'm circling down
Through white cloud
I'm falling out and
I know your lips are warm
But I can't seem to find my way out
My way out of your hunting ground."
- Tori Amos, "I Can't See New York"
Allura could fly the jet, no problem. Even though it had been two years since Wade grounded the lions, the princess still knew her way around a cockpit. No, she let Lance fly because he wanted to. He'd been a pilot far longer than she had, and besides, once he started behind the controls, she could focus on their conversation instead of on their flight path.
"Dude," Lance began, "I can't believe Nanny's allowing me to be your date. I mean, doesn't this sort of event require someone of a higher station to be your royal escort?"
Allura looked down at the control panel. "That would be Keith," she mumbled quietly, picking at a hangnail on her left hand. "And we don't know where he is. So, as second-in-command of the Voltron Force, you're it."
"The disbanded Voltron Force." He never forgot, forgave, or moved beyond the fact that they were all grounded, and that both Captain Keith Kogane and Black Lion were missing in action. Lance was currently stationed in New York, along with Hunk and Pidge, putting up a good front while pulling off an inside job to take back the Galaxy Garrison as well as the mighty robot.
They weren't alone. Commander Hawkins was perhaps the biggest traitor of all of them - as the second-in-command to Sky Marshal Wade, he worked diligently to cover their actions and make sure that his immediate superior knew nothing about their behind-the-scenes work. But Lance hadn't seen the commander in a while. Two weeks ago, he'd gone to Paris to celebrate his thirty-ninth birthday, and Lance left the day after for Arus. There was bound to be a lot of catching up to do once he returned to New York.
She sighed. "I know. You're not the one who lives with that fact every day. You don't see the lions every day like I do."
Oh, great. This conversation is turning morose. "So," he began playfully, trying to change the subject, "how's Brent? How come you didn't ask your boyfriend to escort you?"
Allura rolled her emerald eyes playfully. Distraction - it always works on the princess. "Brent is fine, Lance. And don't forget, Nanny hates him, so even if he was allowed to be my date, I couldn't have brought him for fear that she might murder him."
Lance laughed. He'd never imagined that the princess would couple up with an older man - and a bartender, no less - who was still married, though legally separated, from his wife, but he was happy that she was enjoying their relationship. Brent Halix, the owner of Heaven Bar, was a decent man, but definitely not someone that Coran and Nanny were pleased about their little girl dating.
Not that she was a little girl anymore. Allura was twenty-six years old and busy helping to raise her fourteen-year-old niece Larmina...all while governing her planet and representing Arus in the Galaxy Alliance.
"So Allie...have you and Brent closed the deal yet?"
She smacked him. "A lady never tells."
"Ooh. So you have." He rubbed his hands together. "I want all the juicy details."
"Wow, McClain. You need to get a life. Or a girlfriend. Your call."
With a pained exhale, he turned his attention back to the star map. Once all of the chaos died down after Wade grounded the lions, the Explorer, and Vehicle Voltron, Lance had privately cornered Commander Hawkins to inquire about Ginger. The commander was vague, answering with as few details as possible to protect his disbanded crew, but he could tell her that she was in New York and she was safe.
That was all the information he'd gotten: that the girl he'd spent five years closing the deal with was safe and in New York. She was right under his nose, and he couldn't find her.
He'd tried his hardest over the years to forget about her, but it always came back to the bubbly blond pilot with the blue eyes and red lips. No matter how many women chased after the great Lance McClain, the only one he wanted was Ginger. And she was the only woman he couldn't have.
It figured.
With sudden alarm, Allura looked over at her friend. "Lance, I was only teasing. Are you okay?"
He straightened out his expression and nodded. "Of course, Allie. I'm fine." Then he changed the subject again. He couldn't be mourning over lost love now. This was not the right time. He supposed he had to hold his feelings in check until he returned to the Garrison. Right now, there were other problems to attend to.
Hunk hated teaching, which was why he was more than content to stay in the "Dungeon," as it was so appropriately called, while Lance and Pidge stepped in to head some classes. Not that either of them taught every class in any given subject, but they would head an entire lecture here and there. Him? He'd rather be putting stuff together. Or taking stuff apart. Or, better still, hearing from Keith every once in a great while for status updates.
From the Garrison, they'd been helping Keith track down Black Lion. They had a many-fold mission: find Black, restore both Lion Voltron and Vehicle Voltron, get the Explorer updated and running, and most importantly, remove Wade from his position as Sky Marshal. They worked tirelessly to ensure that all of those things happened, right under the man's nose. They were stealthy like that.
"Tech Sargeant Garrett, I trust you haven't heard anything today."
Hunk looked away from his computer and turned towards the voice. Commander Hawkins leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, dressed in the traditional Garrison uniform. He'd been forced to discard his Explorer garb after Wade's takeover. "No, Sir. It's been quiet."
Hawkins moved towards Hunk and stood behind him, looking over the screen. The former Yellow Lion pilot had noticed an improvement in the commander's mood - although he seemed a bit more distracted - since returning from Paris. Maybe a vacation would do us all some good.
"Blast it. I was hoping there would be something from Kogane." He shook his head. "My intel reports are turning up nothing on Wade's secret bases. Wherever they are, he's hidden them extraordinarily well." He sighed. "I would venture a guess that Black Lion is being held on one of them. It's up to your friend to find out."
Hunk nodded in agreement. "Sir, if there are any coordinates that your intel comes up with - or, heck, anything at all - I'd be happy to run 'em through. Trust me, I want Black back as much as Keith does. The entire team does."
The commander dipped his head once in understanding. "I want things too, Hunk," he admitted finally. "I want things, too."
Dradin was not the sort of planet that would hide Black Lion. It was too loud and too showy, and something as important as the main lion of Voltron would be prominently on display, almost as though Mansett was boasting about its acquisition.
Mansett.
Keith was on Dradin for the purpose of questioning the many-armed male. He'd never met him before, but much of the intelligence he'd amassed over the past two years pointed to the smuggler. Did he hold the key to Black Lion's whereabouts? The only way to find out was to ask him in person.
He'd paid for the hotel room in intergalactic currency. Cash. It was easy; he flashed a wad of bills, gave the front desk staff a fake name, and received a room. To earn that sort of money - and freedom - Keith had liquidated any assets he might have had before he left Earth, and he also picked up the odd job every now and again. He hated the fact that most of the jobs he took were far less than honorable, most of them being of the hitman-for-hire variety, but he did what he had to do to survive.
Rubbing his face, Keith laid back on the bed. He was exhausted, physically more than mentally, but he wasn't done with his daily torture. He had a nightly ritual that he adhered to. He didn't know whether it kept him sane or drove him to the breaking point.
First, before falling asleep, he'd think about Jeff. Jeff Aki, his old roommate and closest friend. The man he entrusted the care of his sister to. He wondered where Jeff was now, what he was doing, and if he was holding fast to his promise to watch over Christiane. And speaking of his sister, he wondered what she was like. Where she was. What she was doing with her life.
If she knew that her brother was on the run.
Then he'd wonder about the Voltron Force. He missed the guys - Lance, Pidge, Hunk. They were his family and not just his team. He hoped they were carrying on without him, that they were still trudging forward and not giving up hope.
Once he began thinking about his teammates, he inevitably began to think about Allura.
He loved her. Oh, he knew it. He'd known it for years. He would do anything within his power to protect her, regardless of the personal cost to him. He would kill for her; he would lay down his life for her. He would go on the run for her, the same way he did two years ago.
He could obsess about her for the entire night if he let himself. He wondered if she ever thought about him, if she missed him, if she was happy, if she had moved on with her life. Most of him wanted her to be happy. The small, selfish part of him hoped that she hadn't moved on, that she was still in the Castle of Lions pining away for him. There was no way to know for sure.
Sighing, Keith decided to drown out his thoughts with the viewscreen. He didn't want to watch a movie, so he settled for the news. That was one thing Dradin had over Earth: because the planet catered to the entire galaxy, it wasn't just local news, it was intergalactic.
A channel came up onscreen, and he watched as a photo of Castle Pollux came up. He grinned to himself. It was comforting, and it reminded him of home. His grin grew even wider as he realized that he thought of Arus as home, not Earth.
"And in news from the Azure Quadrant of the Denubian Galaxy, the war-torn planet of Pollux finally has a good reason to celebrate: Princess Romelle is about to be married to her longtime royal consort, Sven Holgersson. The wedding ceremony is expected to take place tomorrow and will be a lavish three-day celebration..."
Keith swallowed in horror.
Bandor met them in the hangar when they landed.
"Allura! It's so good to see you!" As he wrapped his arms around his cousin, Lance marveled at how much the young prince had grown. He was tall and muscular, and his curly red hair had grown long enough for him to pull back into a ponytail. "And Lance! You look better than ever. I suppose the girls will flock to you at the reception tomorrow."
"That's the idea, Bandor." Lance affectionately clapped the prince on the shoulder while looking him over. "Man, I can't believe you! You're gonna be my main competition with the ladies at this shindig, that's for sure."
Allura cleared her throat. "Boys," she addressed them, "I'd like to go find Romelle. Bandor, do you have any idea where she is?"
"She's with the royal tailor, having the final fitting for her wedding gown."
"And where's Groomie?" Lance asked. "I've got a pre-wedding gift for him in my bag."
Bandor looked pleased. "He's spending the rest of the time until tomorrow morning in the East Wing of the castle. Our dress uniforms for the ceremony have already been fitted, so he's staying by himself until then." A grin slid over his lips. "He's strictly adhering to the tradition of not seeing the bride before the wedding."
Allura giggled. "So that means I won't see my date until I walk down the aisle before Romelle tomorrow, I take it."
Lance shook his head in agreement. "Nope." He lifted up his bags. He had two - one garment bag that housed the formal suit that Larmina had chosen for him and Nanny had approved of; the other carried his personal items as well as his gifts for the groom. Pressing a firm kiss to Allura's temple, he added, "See you when you walk down the aisle!"
The princess blew him a kiss as he headed to the East Wing. Then, turning her head to her cousin, she announced, "I'd like to visit Romelle. Please point me in the direction of the royal tailor."
Bandor motioned for a nearby guard to come over. "Drakar, please escort Princess Allura to the royal tailor to see Romelle. And see to it that a porter comes by to take her things to her room."
Drakar nodded. "Of course, your highness."
Allura and Drakar headed off in the direction of the royal tailor's quarters. She was excited to see her cousin, and even more excited to learn about the dresses that they would both be wearing for the wedding ceremony tomorrow. But mostly, she wanted to trade stories with her. She was dying to tell her stories about Brent to someone. Lance wouldn't cut it.
Maybe it was a good thing that her wedding date would be far too preoccupied this evening. It seemed like the right time for a girls' night in.
"Jon, where have you been? You were supposed to get that report back to me hours ago."
Commander Hawkins tensed up whenever Wade addressed him by his first name. The only older man who had ever called him Jon was his Uncle Jacob, who had passed away years earlier. So few people called him by his first name now. His best friend, Captain Richard Newley. And his girlfriend. That was it.
"I've been visiting with Tech Sargeant Garrett, Sir." He crossed his arms as he answered the Sky Marshal with a hint of defiance in his voice. "I have the report on the surveillance department written up; I will either send it to you or print up a hard copy. Your choice, of course."
"Hmph. Send it to me. Don't waste valuable resources by printing it up." Wade drummed his fingers impatiently against his desk. "You know, Jon, you haven't been as sharp as you usually are since you returned from your vacation. Do me a favor: whatever happened in Paris, leave it there."
The commander swallowed. Wade's directive was easier said than done. How could he forget about Paris? She was there. His new girlfriend, the only woman he'd ever loved - he'd had to leave her behind in the beautiful city. He'd left his heart there with her. It certainly wasn't in New York with them.
"Of course, Sir. I'll get that report to you immediately." With a salute, he saw himself out of the office and back to his station.
Allura wasn't prepared for the sight when she approached the royal tailor.
Romelle looked exquisite in her bridal wear. It was a royal tradition for the daughters of Pollux to be married in the family wedding gown*, and its current princess made no exception. The dress, last worn by her grandmother, was an understated ballgown of ivory silk and lace. An elegant wide neckline and long, sheer gauzy sleeves rounded out the beautiful vision.
"You look absolutely stunning, Romelle," Allura gushed as she stood frozen in the doorway. "It fits perfectly."
Her nearly-identical cousin turned on the tailor's dais. "Thank you, Allura! I'm so glad you're here." Romelle was gorgeous, but she didn't look ecstatic the way a normal bride-to-be should have looked. If anything, the light behind her aquamarine eyes seemed dull. "Please look at your dress for the ceremony while you're here. The tailor will make sure it fits properly."
Sensing his cue, the tailor left Romelle's side and moved to the corner of the room, where the bridesmaid dress was properly stored on a mannequin form. As he wheeled the form towards the Arusian princess, Allura had to admit that the dress could have been worse. It was another vintage dress - ivory, satin, knee-length, and strapless - with a large pale-pink silk ribbon around the waist. The dress was pretty, but unfortunately, it reminded her of something Nanny would have picked out.
"Ooh, it's lovely," Allura told her cousin mildly.
Romelle nodded. "I'm glad you like it. Please, try it on so the tailor can do alterations if he needs to." She turned her face back to the full-length mirror. "I can't believe that tomorrow I'm going to be Mrs. Sven Holgersson."
Allura shed her clothes and slid into the ivory-and-pink dress. After zipping it up, she stood next to her cousin on the dais. Fortunately, the dress fit well, though it was a little too long to be flattering. "And how do you feel about that?" she asked as the tailor began to pin the hem to knee-length.
"Nervous."
"I see." Though they hadn't grown up together, Allura could sense when Romelle was being untruthful. It wasn't as though she didn't believe that her cousin was nervous - she was about to make the commitment of a lifetime, after all - but she could sense that the bride-to-be wasn't being completely honest. "Maybe once we're done here, we can go back to my room and talk. What do you say? It's not like you'll be spending the night with Sven, anyway."
She could see Romelle's eyes glowing in interest. "That sounds great," she replied, carefully unbuttoning her wedding gown. As she leaned over to step out of the dress, her golden hair spilled over her shoulders. "Let me get dressed and finish with the last-minute details. I'll meet you in your room later, okay?"
As the tailor continued to work on the hem of her gown, Allura watched as Romelle dressed and exited the room. This is going to be very interesting. I can't wait to hear what she has to say.
The East Wing of Castle Pollux was nearly deserted. And, if he could be honest, Lance preferred it that way. He wanted one last night with his old Academy roommate as himself. One last night before his oldest friend became a married man.
A man married to the wrong woman, but that was beside the point.
He barged into the room that he knew the groom was staying in, not even bothering to knock. "VIKING!" he cried out, carefully dropping his bag on the bed. "I figured that Bandor didn't throw you a bachelor party, so I'm bringing one to you - sort of."
Sven never turned around to acknowledge his friend. His head was dipped and his shoulders were hunched, almost as though he was in pain. For a moment, Lance was alarmed. It very easily could have been a flare-up from the remnants of the robeast attack. Even though the wounds had healed, the scars and the pain persisted. "Sven, are you okay?"
No words.
Uh-oh. Lance rushed over to his friend's side, almost crashing into him. He looked down and saw what Sven had been staring at. There was a robin's-egg-blue box in his hands.
Lance gasped. "Oh, man," he mumbled, his fingers reaching to take the box away. "You're thinking you can't go through with this, aren't you."
Sven's voice cracked as he kept the box out of Lance's reach. "I love Romelle. I do. But she's not min elskede." He paused, closing his slate-blue eyes. "I'll never be in love with her. Not completely."
"So don't marry her."
"Easier said than done." Sven moved away and sat down on the bed. As he did, he heard some things in the bag clink together. "Lance? What in the universe do you have in there?"
"Like I said earlier, it's the bachelor party Bandor never threw you." Lance unzipped the bag and pulled out two bottles of Ciroc vodka. "Even better, I brought a couple of bottles of tonic water and a lime. All you have to do is get some glasses and a knife so we can cut the lime up."
A hint of a grin grazed the Norwegian's lips. "Vodka tonics. Did you think that would make me feel better?"
"No. I figured this would do the trick." From his bag, he pulled out a bottle of akevitt.
He was expecting his friend to be pleased, but instead, Sven's face fell. "Å, herregud."
"What's wrong? We used to do shots of this. In the dorm room. Remember?"
"Of course I remember," Sven snapped. "How could I forget? Keith and Morgan would break up, Jeff and Lenora would end up in our room, I'd bust open the bottle underneath my bed..." He shook his head. "I'll never get over her. Never. There will be three of us in this marriage: me, Romelle, and Lenora's ghost."
"Like I said earlier," Lance repeated, twisting the cap off a bottle of Ciroc, "don't marry her. Say you got cold feet. Heck, blame it on me. Tell her that you've realized that I'm the great love of your life and you can't imagine this world without my sweet love." He grinned wickedly.
Sven eyed him skeptically. "Are you sure it's only tobacco in those cigarettes of yours, McClain?"
"Dude, you know I haven't smoked the funny stuff since before I got to the Academy." He removed the lighter and a pack from the pocket of his brown leather bomber jacket. No matter how many years went by or how many fashion trends came and went, he still wore it. "You want one? I know you're not much of a smoker, but I think it might do you some good right now."
Sven nodded. "Ja. And pass me the Ciroc, too."
Lance passed the vodka over to his friend, who took a long swig straight from the bottle. Once he'd set it down, he passed a cigarette and the lighter over as well. Sven hadn't ever smoked much - he couldn't; it reminded him too much of his life before the Academy - but it felt all-too-familiar as he held the cigarette between his lips and lit it.
"Feel better?" The former Red Lion pilot collected his lighter and lit his own cigarette.
"A little." Sven sank down to the floor and sat cross-legged like a child. "I'm calmer, in any case. Tell Bandor to do this for me ten minutes before Romelle walks down the aisle tomorrow. I won't make it otherwise."
"Dude, that is not good," Lance informed his old roommate as he took a drag off his cigarette. "If you need to be drunk in order to say your marital vows, it doesn't bode well for your marriage."
"I know." Sven looked deeply tormented. "I feel so guilty, Lance. I love Lenora, and I will be in love with her until the day I die." He opened the box and pulled out a silver chain, at the end of which was a dainty platinum wedding band. "But how can I not marry Romelle? Lenora is dead. Romelle is alive, and I do love her. I can't refuse to marry her because I'm in love with a ghost." He slid the platinum band over his pinkie, where it rested just above his second joint. "I just wish I knew how to stop loving your Sis so I don't ruin my marriage."
"Now I need that bottle." Lance stole back the Ciroc and took a swig. Wiping his lips, he continued, "I'm just gonna give you my honest opinion, Viking. You know that after everything we've been through together, I'll support your decision no matter what, but I think you're making a huge mistake here."
"I don't know, Lance."
"Hey, I'm not saying that I don't like Romelle. I think she's great." He took another swig of vodka. "I'm just saying that she's not gonna magically morph into Len, and it's not fair for you to expect that of her. And besides, any woman would feel bad to learn that her husband was settling with her."
Sven took another drag off his cigarette, then stole the bottle back from Lance. "True enough," he replied. He curled his fingers tightly around the platinum band. "It's not fair to her if I don't put her first."
"It's not fair to you, either," Lance reminded him.
The two old roommates sat on the floor together, smoking and drinking and trying not to think about the fact that Sven would be a married man at this time tomorrow. If he decided not to call off the wedding. As Lance laid back on the floor, staring up at the ceiling, he smirked, "Man, this would be so much better if I had my beanbag chair."
Pidge waited for Hunk to return to the apartment that they shared in the Valley.
They were used to being roommates. Not only had they roomed together at the Academy, but when they were living in the Castle of Lions, they had rooms next door to each other. Nanny used to joke that they were so much like brothers that they ought to just move into the same room.
They'd tried to tell Nanny that, yes, they actually did room together at one point. Lance offered to knock her in the teeth on their behalf, but they declined...though Hunk came really close to saying yes.
The "Valley," as it was called, consisted of cheap just-off-campus housing that Space Academy graduates called home. Lance had deemed the area beneath his standards, but the engineer and systems analyst had no problem sharing the space and saving money. In addition to being a total jerk and a complete freak, Wade was also a stingy boss, paying them all well below what they should have been earning. It was better to stay there than to try to pay the high Manhattan rents.
He showered and dressed in his pajamas. He was exhausted. These long days were going to be the death of him. Forget something exciting like Lotor or a robeast or the forces of Doom. The tedious days and the monotony of the daily routine were going to do him in.
As Pidge flipped on the viewscreen, Hunk came in through the door, kicking off his boots. "Man, that was some day," he vented as he headed over to the refrigerator. Immediately, he twisted the top off a bottle of beer and chugged it back. "Oh, that was good."
"How did you drink that all in one swallow, Hunk?"
"Eh, I'm good like that." He placed the empty bottle on the kitchen counter. "Hey, have you noticed that Commander Hawkins has been a little loopy lately? Ever since he came back from vacation, it's like his brain has only been functioning at half capacity."
"Yeah, I did notice he's seemed a little distracted," Pidge admitted. "But I'd rather not talk about that." He changed the subject. "Do you think Lance and Allura made it to Pollux?"
"Yeah." Hunk plopped himself down on the couch, another bottle of beer in hand. "I just can't believe that Sven's gettin' hitched." He took a swig of his drink. "I can't believe he's marryin' Romelle and not Lennie."
Pidge looked down at his hands as a wave of sadness washed over him. He, Hunk, and Lance had all tried valiantly to track down Lenora after Keith went rogue. They knew that Wade wanted her dead for his own personal reasons, and since no one had seen or heard anything about her, it seemed obvious to assume that he'd succeeded.
It wasn't just Lenora they'd looked for. Lance had asked for Ginger, of course, and Hunk had questioned the commander about Cinda, his old engineering partner. Pidge was glad that he knew for a fact that his twin brother Chip was safe on Balto, and of course they were all pleased to learn that the two females in question were safe as well.
Lenora? All signs pointed towards her death. She had truly disappeared without a trace. Even Commander Hawkins, who was so tight-lipped about his Vehicle Voltron team, couldn't admit to knowing anything.
Finally, Pidge blurted out, "I know. I really like Romelle, but I just don't see Sven married to her. He'll be miserable if he goes through with the wedding ceremony tomorrow."
Hunk belched in reply.
"You're disgusting." The systems analyst swiped the beer bottle away from the engineer and took a sip.
"Gimme that back, Shorty."
Pidge shook his head as he took another sip. He desperately wanted to be happy for his old friend, but he couldn't. He remembered how Sven had promised to find her, and he hadn't. None of them had. The Norwegian hadn't been the only one to fail. They'd all failed.
It was going to be a long night in New York.
Allura was getting ready for bed when she heard a knock at her door. "Come in," she called out, pulling her long blond hair into a high ponytail. "It's unlocked."
The door cracked open, and Romelle stuck her head in. "Is the coast clear?" she asked playfully, ducking into the room. "I brought a bottle of white wine and some glasses. It'll be fun, and it'll help me relax so I can get some sleep tonight."
Allura gratefully accepted her glass, but she was concerned about her cousin's words. "You really are that nervous about getting married tomorrow." She sat down on the stool in front of her vanity table.
Seating herself on the bed, Romelle fumbled with the corkscrew to open the bottle of wine. "There we go," she murmured absently, pouring the wine into her glass. She stood and filled her cousin's glass, then sat back down on the bed and took a sip. "Ah. I needed that."
Allura also took a sip. "Romelle, please."
The bride-to-be sighed. "What do you want me to tell you, Allura? That I don't love Sven? That's not going to happen." She paused to take another sip. "But if you want to know if I'm in love with Sven, well...that's a different answer."
Allura's breath caught in her throat as she attempted to swallow her wine, and she choked.
"Come on, now, it's not so dramatic." Romelle shot her a weary smile. "There are lots and lots of marriages founded on everything but romance. Traditions. Strategy. Politics. Money. Convenience." She shrugged. "Sven and I have been sharing a bed for so long, it just seemed like the right thing to do. And he'll be an amazing father to our children."
Allura was horrified by her cousin's admission. How could anyone get married for a reason other than love? She could understand if King Cova, Romelle's and Bandor's father, was still alive and had forced the marriage on her, but Romelle had brought this upon herself. It just didn't seem fair to either the bride or the groom.
"But...but how could...?"
Romelle inhaled. "I'm damaged goods on so many levels, Allura. But let's not get into that now." She refilled her empty glass of wine and moved to top off her cousin's glass, as well. "How's Brent? Tell me about this boyfriend of yours."
"Brent's fine." Allura didn't often talk about her boyfriend. He was a wonderful man, and he treated her very well, but he wasn't Keith. And not only did he have that strike against him, but he was still married, and besides, Nanny and Coran couldn't stand him. How does that old Earth saying go? Three strikes and you're out. She knew there would be no future for her with the bartender, and she herself could admit that she was simply enjoying his company. So maybe she was using him. She had no place to judge Sven and Romelle.
"How is the lovemaking with him?"
"Oh!" Allura blushed. Yes, she had been intimate with Brent on more than a few occasions; he had been her first. She figured that it was time, and besides, she didn't want to be a virgin when she got married. She didn't want her wedding night ruined by pain and blood. "Actually, it's nice. It's very nice. I have no complaints in that department."
Romelle smiled broadly. "Is he your first?"
"He is. Was Sven your first?"
Her cousin shook her head. "Gods, no!" she replied with a sip. "My first was when I was sixteen. Prince Tristan from Planet Elnor in the Cerulean Quadrant. Have you ever heard of it before?"
Allura nodded vaguely.
"Tristan and I were betrothed from the time we were three years old. We grew up together, and we grew very fond of each other. It was puppy love at first, but it blossomed." She smiled with an equal amount of fondness and sadness as she remembered. "He was my first, and I was in love with him. We planned to be married when we turned eighteen. That's so young, I know, but we would have made it."
Allura had a feeling that she knew what was coming, but she waited for it. "What happened?"
It took a long sip of wine for Romelle to answer. "You know what happened. My mother, God rest her soul, had arranged for our marriage. Once she passed, though, my father's overly-ambitious nature took over. He wanted Pollux to form an alliance with Doom so that our planets could take over the universe. Then he planned to stab Zarkon in the back." She shuddered. "He broke off my engagement to Tristan and betrothed me to Lotor without my consent."
Bile rose up in Allura's throat.
"You know what happened there: Zarkon and Lotor did the backstabbing. My father and my brother ended up dead. I was captured, and Bandor was just a young boy left to pick up all of the pieces." She closed her aquamarine eyes. "Damaged goods, Allura. I'm damaged goods. Lotor kept me as his pleasure slave for...gods, I couldn't tell you for how long. He beat me. He raped me. He humiliated me. And I don't think he ever had any real intention of marrying me." She shook her head. "Not that I would have. I'd rather have died than marry him."
"What happened to Tristan?" her emerald-eyed cousin asked.
"Well, as you can imagine, the royals of Elnor was not happy with my father. Or with Zarkon. I learned later that Tristan and his family planned an attack on Doom. Unlike my own, Tristan's family cared for my welfare. They tried to rescue me." She shook her head, and a tear slid down her cheek. "They were unsuccessful, to say the least. And then, in retaliation, Zarkon had Haggar launch a robeast on the planet. The entire royal family was wiped out."
Allura gasped.
"So, my dear cousin, do you understand why I don't mind if I'm not in love with Sven?" Romelle concluded, pouring the last of the wine into her glass. "I love him, of course, because he is a good man. He's honorable and he takes care of me. Yes, there is a difference between loving a man and being in love with a man, but I don't think it matters to me. Not anymore."
"Oh." Allura took a final sip of her wine, feeling unbelievably sad for her cousin. Romelle had lived such a depressing existence, full of pain and loss, heartbreak and sorrow. And it was true; Sven was a good man. He was one of the best men that she knew. He would love Romelle, and she would love him back to the best of her impaired ability.
She just didn't know how their marriage could last if they weren't in love.
It was late, technically very early in the morning, but she couldn't sleep. For some reason, she was agitated and restless. The small full-sized mattress, usually so comfortable, left her sleepless. She tore out of bed and wrapped herself up in her robe, the lacy black Matinee kimono, before removing a chain from her bedside drawer and clasping it around her neck.
She passed by the small kitchen and poured herself a glass of wine. Last night, before she'd tried to go to sleep, she opened up a bottle of an exquisite Châteauneuf-du-Pape. Apparently, that glass hadn't done the trick. Perhaps this one would.
Wine in hand, she headed out to the balcony, overlooking one of the narrow side streets in Paris. She'd been living in the city for a little over a year, but she'd been on the run from Sky Marshal Wade for two. Jon Hawkins had helped her escape from the man who'd put a price tag on her head.
That's gotta be it, Len. You just miss Jon, that's all. That's why you can't sleep.
Lenora Stensson stared absently out at the street and sipped her wine. She still had to pinch herself when she thought about how much Jon loved her - and, admittedly, how much she loved him in return. It had been a long, long time since she'd been in love with a man. She deserved him.
She felt guilty for wearing her necklace. She'd promised Jon that she wouldn't wear it anymore. It had been just one of the many small birthday presents she'd bestowed upon him during his trip to Paris. But right now, her boyfriend - Man friend? Can you even call a man who's almost forty your boyfriend? - was back in New York at the Garrison, and she needed comfort. He'd never know.
She'd had the necklace for eight years. It started off as a white-gold cross and chain - a gift from her mother when she graduated from the Space Academy. Then, the following day, she'd added the heavy platinum wedding band that belonged to her beloved. Sven. He had taken her own wedding band with him on his mission to Arus, and he had promised he'd come back to find her. He was supposed to come home to her and marry her. According to the last Garrison statistics she saw, he was still MIA.
The last pendant of this unholy trinity was the silver cornicello that Aidan Dalloway had given her. That was five years later, on the night her mother passed. It marked the first time in five years that Lenora had ever let a man other than Sven love her. Aidan had broken the dam, but she didn't love him the way she knew he wanted to be loved. She could never love him as much as her beloved.
But Jon? She knew that one day she would love the commander more than she loved Sven.
Gripping Sven's wedding band, she found comfort. Staring up at the sky, she gazed at the stars. That was something he'd taught her to do when life seemed too overwhelming.
Where in seven hells are you, Sven Holgersson? she thought as she took another sip of wine. Why didn't you come back to find me? You said that not even death would come between us.
She continued to stare at the sky and sip her wine, stroking the cool platinum of Sven's wedding band. There was only one conclusion she could draw: that her beloved was dead. It didn't matter that Zarkon and the forces of Doom had been defeated. It didn't matter that the remaining slaves had all been freed. Sven was gone, and he wasn't coming back for her.
With a final swallow of wine, Lenora moved back inside the pied-a-terre and shut the balcony door behind her. She removed the necklace and placed it back in the drawer. Then she twisted her thick chestnut hair up in a hasty chignon and slid the kimono off before getting back in bed.
She loved Jon, she was in love with Jon, and she desperately wanted to be with him in New York. Which was why she had no idea how Sven weighed so heavily on her mind tonight.
Keith, using the pseudonym he'd given the front desk at check-in, went down for his complimentary breakfast the following morning. He wasn't hungry; after seeing the announcement on the news the night before, his stomach felt like he'd swallowed a brick. Coffee. Black coffee. That was why he was really going down to breakfast.
It would have been better if he was doing perimeter scan while drinking his black coffee, but at least there was coffee. That was the important part.
He sat down at an empty table in the hotel lobby with his paper mug and waited for the hot liquid to cool off. Then, once it was a less-than-scalding temperature, he downed it quickly. He felt much better as the caffeine ran through his veins.
"Mr. Feld?" a concierge member asked. "Would you like some more coffee?"
"Yes, please. Black," he answered, checking his watch. He still had fifteen minutes to kill before his meeting with Mansett. "And please, call me Morgan."
"Yes, Sir."
When the concierge member turned to get him more coffee, Keith smirked to himself. Morgan Feld. Perhaps not the most innovative of fake names - after all, it was the name of his ex-girlfriend - but it was the only one he could come up with at the late hour he'd checked in.
If only she knew...
The concierge member returned with the coffee, and Keith accepted it gratefully. He needed all the energy he could muster up. He wasn't sure what would go down with Mansett, but he wanted to be in peak form.
As the minutes ticked by, Keith sipped at his coffee. Waiting. Once he'd emptied the mug, he stood up and headed towards the chosen meeting place. He tossed his garbage in a canister and wrapped his jacket more tightly around him.
As he stood in the appropriate spot, he heard a voice hiss, "Kogane."
Keith looked up and noticed a man, orange-skinned and ruby-eyed, dressed in a beige trench coat. "Cadmars," he greeted Mansett's henchman quietly. "Are you ready?"
"Let's go."
Keeping a respectable distance behind him, Keith followed Cadmars to a long hovercraft parked in front of the hotel. He climbed in through the open door, and the orange-skinned male slammed it shut behind him. As he slid across the seat, he noted a grotesquely overweight male, blue-skinned and many-armed, already sitting in the seat across from him. Mansett.
"Driver," Mansett barked through the intercom in a ridiculous accent, "do your job and drive."
The driver slid up the privacy shield and pulled away from the curb. Keith watched with curious turquoise eyes as Mansett threw back a shot of clear liquid. Maybe vodka, maybe something else. It was obvious that he'd never been to bed and was still continuing the party.
He's worse than Lance, Cliff and Aidan all put together.
"Ah. That's better." With one arm, Mansett placed the empty shotglass aside while another hand wiped his lips dry. "So, the great Captain Kogane has come to me for aid."
Keith internally rolled his eyes - a move he'd picked up, practiced and mastered at the Space Academy. "The intelligence I've gathered tells me that you may have some knowledge about where Sky Marshal Charles Herbert Wade has hidden my Black Lion. I believe it to be stored away on one of his hidden bases." He furrowed his eyebrows. "That's where I need your help. I've been informed that you are well aware of the location of all three bases."
Mansett raised an eyebrow at the Voltron captain. "Perhaps," he muttered. "I can be bought for the right price, of course."
Keith flashed him a glimpse of the wad of bills in his pocket.
The overweight alien blob rubbed two hands together with glee. "Ah, you came well-armed, Captain Kogane. No pun intended, of course."
"Of course not."
"But you should know that there is a price on your head, as well. As we speak, there are many bounty hunters who would pay me well to turn you over to them."
"Name their price," Keith groused, "and I'll beat it. I'll make this transaction worth your while, Mansett."
He laughed. "I like you, Captain Kogane. You have cojones." He poured himself another shotglass of clear liquid and knocked it back as though it was water. As he placed the empty vessel aside, he continued, "And because I like you so much, I shall give you this much information, free of charge: the Troika moons."
Keith was silent for a moment. Three moons, three bases. It made sense. "Wade's bases are hidden on each of the three Troika moons?"
Mansett shook his head, amused. "No. I want you to know that one day, I will call for you. I don't know when that day will be, but trust me, it will come. And when it does, I shall have all the information you need available for you." He shot him a pointed glare. "But you'd better be full of intergalactic currency at that point, or else I will not tell you anything."
"I understand." Keith understood, all right. Mansett was trying to tell him that this information was very, very valuable, and it might cost both of them their lives. The knowledge would come at an exorbitant amount of money, far more than what he had in his pocket. And he was giving the captain the time to amass that much money. "I will wait for you to call me, and I will be there when you do. But," he added warningly, "should I find out for myself where Black Lion is, you will forfeit any money I might give you."
"Fair enough. We have a deal." Mansett leaned forward and extended one hand to shake his. As Keith took it grudgingly, the hovercar pulled back up to the curb and parked in front of the hotel. "I expect you found this meeting to be as worthwhile for you as it was for me, Captain Kogane. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must be getting to bed."
"Of course." Keith exited the vehicle and headed back to the hotel. His entire transaction with Mansett had taken no more than ten minutes. He might as well gamble a little. It would be worth it if he could win some intergalactic currency.
He needed to begin gathering that cash now. There was no price too high to pay if it meant that Black Lion was back in his possession...and if he was finally near his Allura again.
Sven stood in front of the mirror, dressed in the traditional blue-and-white Polluxian formal military uniform. He had the overwhelming sense of feeling like he was sinking into a cement pit. Trapped. Drowned. Crushed.
Romelle was not Lenora. He grieved the loss of his elskede, and he knew he would continue to mourn her loss every day for the rest of his life. Whenever he'd pictured his wedding day, he'd imagined the chestnut-haired beauty walking down the aisle towards him.
Today, in real life, it would be Romelle.
To calm himself, Sven opened the bottle of akevitt that he and Lance had left untouched. "Skål," he toasted Lenora's ghost sadly, tipping back the bottle and taking a long swallow. Then, without thinking, he reached for the robin's-egg-blue box again and clasped the chain around his neck, tucking it underneath his collar. He would wear her wedding band throughout his marriage. He would be married to both of them: legally to Romelle, spiritually to Lenora.
It was what his heart wanted.
In the distance, he heard Bandor's footsteps pounding down the hallway. It was time. It was time for them to head to the Polluxian chapel. It was time for him to marry a woman he loved, but not the woman he loved.
Sven took one more swallow of akevitt before opening the door to greet his best man.
"Well, they did it," Lance cracked as he wrapped an arm around Allura's shoulder. "I can't believe they actually took the plunge."
"Me neither," Allura agreed, thinking about her night with Romelle and the wine.
Watching Sven and Romelle dance together, it was impossible to tell that they were both settling. They both looked deliriously happy, and Sven was a doting groom to Romelle's adoring bride. "At least they look good together," Allura mused as the seemingly-happy couple kissed for the benefit of their guests.
Lance inhaled, wishing he could light up a cigarette. You don't know the half of it. He desperately wanted to tell the princess about Sven's past. About Lenora. But he didn't dare. She wouldn't understand. She couldn't grasp the whole of it. And besides, it was her cousin's big day. Why ruin it?
Finally, he replied with, "Wow. That chick is hot."
Across the dance floor, he saw her. He didn't know who she was, but who cared? He was a pilot for the Voltron Force, after all. And even better, he was Lance McClain. There wasn't a woman alive who wouldn't fall at his feet.
Allura spied the red-haired woman he was talking about. "Oh, I think I recognize her. That's the representative from Planet Caspia." She studied the woman for a moment. "I believe her name is Tulyah." Then, with a note of disdain, she added, "Could her dress get any shorter?"
"That's my kind of woman," Lance drooled.
Allura pinched him in reply.
"Ow!"
"You deserved that, McClain."
Sven and Romelle headed off the dance floor and split up. Clad in her vintage gown and her mother's ring, the bride joined a group of women that Allura didn't recognize. Lance saw his opening and moved next to the groom.
"Well, Viking, you did it," he remarked as he knocked back whatever alcoholic beverage was in the groom's glass. Sven shot him a dirty look. "I can't believe you're a married man now."
"Me neither." Sven looked solemn.
"Hey, did you see that red-haired chick over there with the super-short dress? I'm gonna close the deal with her tonight, but she doesn't know it yet." He looked obnoxiously smug and confident.
Sven shook his head. "That's Tulyah, ja? The representative from Caspia?"
"That's what Allura said."
The Norwegian shook his head. "She won't make you happy, McClain. She's not Ginger."
Lance clenched his teeth together. "Not for nothing, Holgersson, but Romelle's not my Sis, either." Then, lowering his voice to barely a notch above a whisper, he seethed, "Do you really think she is gonna make you happy?"
"Fair enough." He looked grouchy. "No, Romelle is not your Sis. But I have to try, Lance. I have to try to be happy with her. Lenora is dead. She's not coming back. And her ghost will not keep me warm at night."
His old roommate gave a curt nod. Then, in front of the entire assembly of guests, Lance stood up, leaned over, and planted a firm kiss on top of the navigator's head. "I love you, Sven," he offered seriously, not a hint of a joke in his voice. "Be happy."
The Norwegian's slate-blue eyes widened with a thousand emotions. "I love you too, Lance."
Then, as though no words had been said, Lance picked up Romelle's abandoned glass of wine and headed over to Tulyah's table. Sven watched, insanely jealous, as his old roommate casually sauntered up to the Caspian and began to flirt with her.
He knew that Lance would eventually return to New York, and that someday soon - maybe not tomorrow or next week, but soon enough - Ginger would return to him. They would be happy together in the place they called home. That would never happen for Sven. Pollux was not New York, Romelle was not Lenora, and he would never be as happy as Lance.
But he would try. He'd vowed he would try.
After the reception, Allura stripped off her vintage dress and changed into her pajamas. Heading into the bathroom, she began to pull the bobby pins out of her carefully-crafted updo, then brushed her long hair to free it from the stiffness created by the styling agents used to hold it in place. I don't know how I'm going to make it through two more days of festivities, she thought as she washed the heavy make-up off her face. At least on Arus, the royal wedding is one day. One long day, maybe, but only one day and not three.
She and Bandor had been the two final guests to leave the reception. They'd watched the bride and groom retire to their chambers for the evening, and they'd laughed as Lance escorted Tulyah back to her room. One by one, they'd looked on as couples paired off together and headed back to their rooms at the end of the night.
Bandor had pouted, "Well, now it's just you and me. And at least you have a boyfriend waiting for you on Arus. I've got nobody."
Allura felt incredibly guilty. She didn't love Brent. She enjoyed his company, and she definitely enjoyed her times in bed with him, but she didn't love him and she definitely wasn't in love with him. Staring back at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, she knew who she desperately wished was by her side at that moment.
Keith.
As she stretched her arms overhead, wishing that she could feel his arms wrapped around her, she knew in her heart that she could never do what Romelle had done. She could never settle in her marriage. It had to be a marriage for love. She had to be in love with her groom for her to be able to happily spend her life with him. Maybe it would work for Sven and Romelle, but she had her doubts.
Snuggling into the bed, Allura could almost feel Keith's presence next to her. She liked to think that she loved him so much that they had a connection, one that could transcend time and space. She wished she knew where he was almost as much as she wished that she knew when he would come home to her. As she began to drift off to sleep, she realized that she hadn't heard from Brent once since she'd left for Pollux, and unless someone mentioned him in conversation, she hadn't so much as thought about him. But Keith? He was never truly far from her mind. He was always there with her.
Brent was for now. Keith was forever.
THE END
* Romelle's mother did not wear the dress because she was not a daughter of Pollux.