Author's Note: HOORAY! The office is closed for vacation this week! You know what that means - a couple more updates than usual. (Also, a few more shots of Ciroc and a few more glasses of vino, but hey...)

I did not create anyone or anything associated with the Drule High Council summit meeting. That is all courtesy of DDP. As always, I own only the characters and planets I've created.

To Sally On - Got your message! I'm glad you're still enjoying & following along, even though life has been putting you through the wringer lately.

To Emie Mac - Pidge is definitely the least likely to refer to Keith as "Crankypants," so hopefully our captain shapes up. And as for the Sven/Len/Romelle triangle on Arus...well, just wait 'til you see what we've got planned.

To bknbu - I got your message, too! And no, there will be no resurrections on Elnor, sorry Romy. Please enjoy that Green Day concert, and I hope they play "Give Me Novocaine" too! (A little dentist humor...)

To FroofyB - I, too, am sad that the crew is growing up, and I'll be even sadder when I reach the end of this book. :*( But don't worry, I still have PLENTY more planned.

To Wade Wells - Yes, it was all about the boys, wasn't it? And I'm glad you love Jon. I love him too. :) (Wait 'til I finish "Paris"...trust me, you're the first one who'll get it.)

Title Song: "Don't Let It Break your Heart" by Coldplay

Planet Naraku was the last place Lotor wanted to go. He equated the planet with his father, and he hated to think about his father. The last thing that Zarkon had ever called him before he met his demise was, "Fool."

One simple word, the only word Zarkon would ever use as endearment towards his son. "Fool."

Fool.

The command ship, with Cossack at the helm, began its initial descent to Naraku. Lotor's gut twisted as he looked down upon the harsh terrain. He was not looking forward to the Supreme Council Meeting. He did not want to face King Bhorn and the rest of the war-minded, domination-obsessed Drule royalties.

Not just because of his father. It was because he had a genuine plan to take over the galaxy and all of the planets in the Alliance, and he didn't want - or require - help from the other nine planets that made up the Drule Supreme Council. He didn't want them to get involved and potentially steal the spoils of war, or more importantly, the glory, from him.

"Lotor, you look like you've got a thousand things running through your mind at once."

The king looked up and found Wade examining him, almost as though he was reading his thoughts. How did the Sky Marshal know these things? The man truly was evil incarnate. "I hate Naraku. You'll understand why once we land and see for yourself."

Wade looked thoughtful for a moment. "I can't understand why. It's a meeting of the minds, Lotor. The most evil, conniving...brilliant minds in the Drule Empire, all under one roof." His steely eyes flashed with excitement. "Truly, I don't understand why you would hate it. There is so much knowledge to be gained."

The king sighed. Of course he doesn't understand.

Once the ship landed, Lotor begrudgingly led Wade and Cossack - at the last moment, Maahox had opted not to go, instead preferring to work on a new formulation that would increase the Haggarium's power - and made their way inside Bhorn's castle.

The king swallowed as flashbacks began to run through his mind. There was the time he punched Prince Skath of the second kingdom - Is he king now? Did King Meer die? - in the jaw. There was the time Bhorn singled out the ninth kingdom for insubordination. And of course, there were the many whispers and rumors that Duchess Merla of the seventh kingdom had her eyes on Lotor for a husband.

Remembering made him feel physically ill. He suddenly wished that his death and reanimation had wiped out those memories, but no such luck. As long as he still breathed, he would carry everything over from his last life and into this one. And any other life that might follow. He supposed it was both his cross to bear and his punishment for being unable to defeat the Voltron Force.

"Wow," Cossack muttered, dumbstruck, "I forgot how intimidating this place is."

Next to him, Wade exhaled as though trying to bite back a nasty comment. Which, Lotor guessed, he probably was.

As they made their way to the meeting room, a round room with many "box seats" surrounding a central dais, they were stopped by the guards and ordered to give identification. Successfully hiding his outrage that he should be forgotten, the king snarled, "Lotor, King of Korrinoth the Ninth Kingdom."

He heard a condescending fit of laughter from behind him. Surely it can't be...

But it was.

He turned his head ever so slightly. He was annoyed and impatient - he had no time for games, especially when Bhorn had such little tolerance for tardiness. Narrowing his eyes, he whipped the entire bulk of his body around and shot the voice an intimidating glare. "Merla..."

Romelle was busy packing for Arus. Because she, along with her husband and son, were leaving earlier than most of the other guests for the royal wedding, they needed to bring more clothes than they normally would. Though Pollux was still rebuilding itself after the Zarkonian Wars - she and Bandor believed it could possibly take up to a generation of undisturbed growth before the planet returned to its original opulent glory - she did have a few items made up for her by the royal tailor, including the dresses she planned to wear for the wedding ceremony and reception.

As she packed, she heard squeals of laughter coming from the adjacent nursery. The two men in her life were playing together, and she knew that Erik, even at the young age of two, loved roughhousing with his father. She smiled to herself. The therapy is working. Sven is like a different person. Things are so much better now.

"Mama! Want to see Mama!" she heard the boy cry out.

"Okay, then, little man. Let's go see Mama." He paused, and she remembered that he had been trying to teach their son manners. "What do you say?"

"Thank you, Dada."

"Nice work, Erik! Now, let's go see Mama."

She had to admit, it warmed her heart to know that her husband loved their son so much. When they had first gotten married, Romelle knew that they weren't in love with each other, but she did know without a hint of doubt that Sven would make an amazing father. She was so glad that she had been right about that.

They both walked into the royal bedroom, where suitcases, steamer trunks and garment bags were strewn open and covered nearly every available inch of floor space. Sven looked at her with amusement as he took in the surroundings and the amount of clothes that needed to be packed. "Wow, this little boy has more clothes packed for this trip than I do," he commented lightly, wrestling with the squirming toddler in his arms. He placed a kiss on the top of Erik's head.

Had it been a year earlier, Romelle would have taken his statement the wrong way, perceiving it as disapproval, and she would have lashed out in retaliation. Today, though, she simply laughed, finding the amusement in her husband's words. "You know what's even funnier? He has more clothes packed away than even I do."

He laughed, deep and genuine. "Oh, come on now, Romelle. I find that hard to believe."

Again, a year ago, she would have taken his words the wrong way. Today, she laughed with him, abandoning her project and scooping Erik out of his arms. "Did you hear that, little man? Dada thinks that Mama has too many pretty dresses." She covered his face in kisses. "Do you think Mama has too many dresses?"

The boy shook his head enthusiastically. "No, Mama, thank you."

They both laughed. "Well," Romelle cried out, over-exaggerating her enthusiasm, "what a well-mannered boy we have! Such a polite young prince!"

At those words, Sven froze internally.

A prince. As much as he tried not to think about it, he realized that he would need to address the issue head-on. He was merely a pilot, but his wife and his son were members of the royal family on Pollux. No wonder the Polluxians were so angry with him. On top of his Haggarium rages and outbursts, how dare he - a mere commoner - procreate with their darling princess, adding his unworthy genetics to the royal blood?

It should have been a happy family moment, but instead, Sven was filled with dread.

Pidge was exhausted. He'd spent the entire day, more or less, reconfiguring the schematics for the defense upgrades. A few hours earlier, he'd let Vince go, thinking that he didn't want to overwhelm the cadet and burn him out. So for the past few hours, he had worked by himself.

He wasn't doing it for Keith. He was doing it for Allura.

Not that he didn't love Keith, of course. Pidge had known Keith since he was twelve years old. Chip may have been his twin brother, but Keith was the older brother he never had. So was Hunk.

Lance? Well, Lance was like the creepy old uncle who preyed on the young girls at holiday gatherings, but that was beside the point.

Allura, though, had done him a huge favor, one that he was eternally grateful for: she'd made him Larmina's escort for the wedding reception.

When they returned to Arus after Keith rescued Black Lion, Pidge hadn't thought twice about Allura's niece. She was just there; a pesky cadet who was no better or worse than Daniel or Vince. But now that he'd gotten to know her better, he was enchanted by her. Intrigued, even. Larmina was not just some dumb, over-indulged, helpless little princess. She was tough, she was fierce, she was fearless.

She was beautiful.

Way to go, Darrell, he chided himself as he made the late trek back to his room. Interested in a girl who's eleven - eleven! - years younger than you are. What's wrong with you?

Hmm. He'd always equated Lance with the "creepy old uncle" role. Apparently, he'd inherited it.

Well, I have to do this, he tried to tell himself. I know Daniel's trying to move in on her. All I'm doing is trying to protect her. You know, keep him from breaking her heart. But even as he tried to rationalize, he knew he was only lying to himself. He wasn't just trying to protect her. He genuinely liked her and was interested in her.

Great. At twenty-nine, I'm the new "creepy old uncle."

Lenora had already bought her gown for the royal wedding reception. That being said, Morgan, Kelly and Christiane had not. Of the four of them, though, it was imperative that Christiane had a spectacular array of dresses to wear. She was, after all, the groom's sister.

That had been another topic Lenora had discussed with Morgan on the night they planned the wedding party for Taye and Kelly. The seer hadn't mentioned anything, but they knew that Christiane had nothing to wear to her brother's wedding ceremony and reception - of course two different outfits would be required - and even less money to buy them with. How could she possibly be announced as the sister of the royal consort and not look the part?

They decided to split the cost of her reception dress. And Kelly, once she found out what they planned to do, offered to pay for the less-formal ceremony dress herself.

Now the four of them were going in and out of different department stores on Fifth Avenue, looking for dresses for both of the events. Christiane nervously bit her lip and nails as she thumbed through different racks of dresses. She hadn't seen anything, but it was written plainly all over her face - How will I ever afford this?

Morgan had been watching her so-called "Baby Girl" as she searched through the racks. "She's freaking out," she whispered quietly to the Space Marshal and First Officer. "She knows she's gotta look good, but she can't afford it. And she's freaking out."

Kelly clucked her tongue. She had her own hands on one dress in particular, only to shove it over to Lenora. "Christiane," she offered, letting down her guard and allowing the last trace of her Bajan accent to come through, "what are you looking at?"

"Oh. Um, this one." Christiane lifted a dress from the rack, nervously looking at the price tag. It was a lot more money than she could afford. "I really like it, but I can't even think about trying it on. It's way too expensive."

Kelly placed a hand on the girl's shoulder, carefully avoiding any bare skin so the seer couldn't read her. "Little K," she began gently, "we'll take care of it for you. Pick out any dress you want for the ceremony, and I'll pay for it. Any dress you want for the reception, and those two over there have got it covered." She offered a rare smile. "I mean it. We love you. Not only did you marry into our family, but your brother is part of our family. There's an unspoken vow for us to take care of you, and we intend on doing just that."

Christiane's turquoise eyes pricked with tears, but she remained calm. "Thank you," she whispered, casting her gaze over to Morgan and Lenora. "I can't thank any of you enough."

"Baby Girl," Morgan told her, "we've got your back. I'll take care of you. I promised I would."

And then she burst into tears herself.

Christiane wrapped her arms around Morgan and immediately felt what her surrogate mother was feeling. Had things turned out differently, it would have been her instead of Allura. Instead, she was going to her ex-boyfriend's wedding and, even more of a slap in the face, helping his sister dress for the occasion.

She could feel how it all broke Morgan's heart.

"I love you," she whispered.

Morgan wiped the tears out of her violet eyes. "I love you more, Baby Girl." She sniffed. "Now, let's get you in some dresses."