Sven opened his eyes grudgingly and cursed softly under his breath. The heavy drapes that hung in his bedchambers were closed, but a stray shaft of sunlight broke through the comforting cloak of darkness and fell on his eyes.
His body was sluggish, heavy with the remembered happiness of unfinished dreams. Pulling the blankets up over his head again, Sven closed his eyes and tried to escape into sleepy peacefulness. But the aches that were his constant companions - and been ever since his almost fatal confrontation with Haggar - kept him from slipping into oblivion. Breathing heavily, he winced as a particularly strong spasm tied the muscles of his back into tight knots.
Pain flickered across his face, making him look older than he really was. He was thirty-six years old but he felt almost double his age. It wasn't really surprising. After all, he had already seen and experienced more than most people had in their entire lifetimes.
Already a decorated space explorer, he turned down his chance for his own command to serve as first-officer of the Voltron Force. After being injured by Haggar, he was captured by Zarkon and impressed into slavery. Then, together with Romelle, he led the slaves in a rebellion that critically paralyzed Zarkon's empire...
The sound of his door hissing open jolted him out of his melancholy reverie. He reached for the blaster he kept under his pillow, a old habit that necessity had not allowed him to break. Although Zarkon's empire had collapsed long ago, the old tyrant still roamed around the galaxy, watching and waiting for the chance for revenge.
Sven's finely honed survival skills schooled his breathing into a semblance of sleep, even as pain traced trails of fire up and down his injured leg. Sleepiness was pushed aside as his mind raced, assessing the situation, forming contingency plans.
A small body landed on him with a thud.
All tension evaporated from his body and he drew himself up on his elbows to glare at the intruder, trying not to gasp out loud as his muscles contracted in protest. "Svetlana! How many times have I told you not to do that?"
An unrepentant smile that lacked several teeth answered him even before he heard the charmingly lisped musical voice verbalize an apology. "Sorry, Daddy. Uncle Bandor said it was time for you to get up."
"He's back from his meeting with the Galatic Alliance? And I suppose he gave you a present again, didn't he?" Sven's question was more of a statement as he arched a single dark eyebrow in a wry gesture, gazing down at the young girl straddled across his waist "What did he get you this time?"
"Kisses," Svetlana glowed as a tiny dimple appeared her cheek. "But these ones came from Uncle Keith and Auntie Ally. They gave them to Uncle Bandor so he could give them to me." Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a tiny, foil-wrapped package. "I ate most of them, but I saved the last one for you."
The clouds in her eyes told Sven that sharing her chocolate with him was one of the hardest things his daugther had ever done in her young life. Although generous to a fault, Ana loved chocolate almost as much as her mother did and chocolate was the only thing that she refused to share.
Touched by Svetlana's willingness to sacrifice by sharing her chocolate with him, Sven smiled tenderly and patted her smooth, dewy cheek. "Thank you, little swan," he said huskily.
Svetlana tilted her head back and looked down at him, the wisdom and sympathy in her big blue eyes tugging at his heart. "You look sad. You're thinking of Mama again, aren't you?"
He nodded mutely.
The sparkle in Svetlana's eyes faded as she lay down beside him, pillowing her tiny golden head on his chest. "I miss her too, Daddy." She admitted in a voice that was heavy with unshed tears. "How long has it been since God called her?"
"Slightly more than a year," Sven said softly, taking a moment to swallow down the thick knot of emotion lodged in his throat. His heart squeezed in his chest, and for a moment it was hard to breathe, much less speak. "Not very long ago, even though it seems that way, doesn't it?"
Wrapping his long arms around his daughter's warmth, he felt Svetlana's nod more than he heard her whispered response. He sighed heavily as he breathed in the familiar smell of childhood - of promise, hope and distant dreams.
Svetlana reached up and touched Sven's cheek with a small hand, interrupting his train of thoughts. "Daddy? Uncle Bandor said that he was surprised when he saw me, because he hadn't been gone very long and I had grown an inch since he had gone."
"Really?" Sven asked. Pasting a teasing look on his face, he drew back and eyed his daughter skeptically . "I didn't notice, little swan. But if you'd like, later this afternoon, let's ride out for a picnic so that I can measure you against your growing tree."
"'Okay." Ana agreed before lapsing into silence.
Sven watched his daughter quietly for several long moments. She was sucking her thumb, a baby-like habit that she scoffed at, but still reverted to when something weighed heavily on her young mind. "What's wrong?" He prompted gently.
"Daddy, If Uncle Bandor can forget things, that means that I can forget things," Ana's words shot out of her mouth in a panicky stream. "But what do I do if there's something I want to remember but forget? Uncle Bandor only went away for a short time and he forgot something already, and Mama's been gone for so long and..."
"... and you're worried that you'll forget her." Sven completed the sentence. "Don't worry, 'Ana," he replied reassuringly, his voice filled with conviction. "You might forget small things, but you don't forget really important things."
"Like what?"
Sven smiled softly, amused at the way that scepticism flitted across his daughter's voice - his legacy to her. "Like the way that she used to go to your room to hug you and sing to you until you went to sleep, and..."
"I used to play with hair when she put me to sleep, right Daddy?" Ana remembered. "Mama's hair looked like mine, but it was longer. I liked holding it. It was slipperly, like the sheets that used to be on your bed..."
Sven nodded solemnly, his spirits lightening as his memories of Romelle - never far from his mind - came alive as he relived them through the eyes of their daughter. "You probably also remember the way that she used to ... tickle... you!"
Pouncing, he rolled with his daughter on the bed, gently poking her where he knew she was most ticklish and wrestled with her while she squealed and giggled. As always, he let her win, pretending exhaustion and defeat when she bounced on his back.
"I won!" Svetlana crowed exultantly. "I'm big and strong because I eat my vegtables. Uncle Pidge says that he used to eat them all the time when he was little," she explained, with a five-year old's unique wisdom.
Sven grinned into the pillow, remembering all the times he and the others used to tease the youngest space explorer about being the littlest. But the Pidgelet, as Lance used to call him, had the last laugh. Now, Lance and everyone else had to look up to stare Pidge in the eye.
"Vegetables are all right, but you should cut down on the chocolate. If you eat too much, you'll either lose all your teeth or grow up to be as big as your Uncle Hunk," he warned, with a small groan that was only partly feigned. She really was getting bigger. "Then you'll really be able to beat up your poor old daddy."
Svetlana's answering laugh was pure and clear, a sound that lightened his heart like nothing else. Romelle's laugh, he recognized. He sat up, looked down into the sweet face that gazed on him with such love and offered a quick prayer of thanks.
The little girl before him was a part of Romelle. His wife may have died, but she would never be totally lost to him, she would always live on in her daughter. The thought comforted him and brought peace to his soul.
"You'd better go down to breakfast now, Little Swan. I'll follow just as soon as I shower and change my clothes." Kissing Svetlana gently on the forehead, Sven got up and opened the heavy drapes, allowing the sun come in to chase away the darkness and bring with it the promise of a new day.