After twenty-five years, the Voltron Force was as familiar with the Polluxian castle as they were the Castle of Lions, and so Lance easily made his way to the communications center. Keith sat in front of the main console, closing out a communication as he walked in. "Just got hold of Bandor," Keith glanced up as Lance perched on the corner of the console. "He and Irenea will be here first thing in the morning, and he'll take care of the official stuff. How's Romelle?"

"How do you think?" Lance returned. "Sven's been everything to her since she was 16; she's completely lost. This is NOT gonna be easy, brother."

Keith shook his head. "No, it isn't. Let's see if we can get hold of Dukane." He turned to the board, rapidly typing in the Space Marshal's private com code and his own priority code. Five minutes later, Jeff Dukane's familiar face looked back at them solemnly from the other side of the galaxy.

"Kogane, McClain." He sighed. "Middle of the night on Pollux; I'm guessing this isn't a social call. How is he?"

"Gone," Keith answered quietly.

"Ah, hell." Jeff dropped his head for a minute; when he looked back up, tears shone in his eyes. "I know we were looking for it, but. . . damn. He was one of the best."

"Yeah, he was. Really gonna miss him," Lance said softly, his own tears starting again in spite of himself. "Way too damned soon. He deserved better, you know?"

Jeff nodded. "He sure did. It's the end of an era."

Lance turned away from the monitor, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

"How soon can you be here?" Keith asked, looking to distract from Lance's distress.

"No idea. That's a Cliff question." Admiral Sheffield, still Jeff's right hand after so many years, came in, eyes suspiciously damp.

"Just waiting for his missus and mine," Cliff answered, Australian accent strong as ever. "I cleared his calendar, ordered his ship prepped, and called Lisa and Ginger soon as I saw the Pollux encryption on Jeff's line. Should be there tomorrow afternoon, mates. Give Melle our love, yeah?"

"We sure will. See you guys tomorrow." Keith closed the connection and turned to Lance. "Lance. . ."

"Don't say it," the lanky pilot snapped. "Just don't, all right? I'm going to go put Sven's uniform together, like I promised Romelle I would. Somebody needs to go get our junk together too." He hopped down from the console and was gone before Keith could say another word.

Sven's body was gone from his and Romelle's room, but Lance could still feel the Norwegian's presence in the room he had shared with his elske for so many years. He quickly opened the closet door, found Sven's dress uniform, and laid it on the stripped bed to check the medals. A noise at the window caught his attention, and he glanced up to see the biggest raven he'd ever seen in his life perched on the sill. "Holy Mother of God," he breathed, going over and carefully opening the window. The raven calmly hopped onto his wrist, fixing him with a bright ebony gaze. It assessed him for a long minute, then let out a solemn, "Quork!"

Lance was awestruck. Ravens of ANY size were unheard of on Pollux or Arus, and he couldn't imagine where this one had come from. Suddenly his mind went back almost thirty years, to the flight from Earth to Arus. They had all told stories from their childhood to pass the time; Sven had told them the old Norse legends, of Odin and the ravens that were his messengers, of the ravens his Viking ancestors had used to direct their raids. He blinked. "You're a message, aren't you?" he asked the big bird, not really expecting an answer.

To his shock, the raven locked gazes with him. "Quork!" it said emphatically. As Lance stared at the bird, he heard Sven's faint voice in his head. Remember your promise, min bror. Tell min elskede I love her. And know this; nothing would I change. Do not blame yourself. Farewell. The bird shook itself and flew out the open window; Lance stared after it for a moment, then sank to his knees, shaking with sobs.

Not even Keith knew the guilt he carried over Sven's injuries; he was all too aware that it should have been him lying in that dusty square, life bleeding away. After he resurfaced, Sven had assured him repeatedly that he did not blame Lance; that it had been his own choice, and that having Romelle was worth every bit of the pain he felt. It didn't stop Lance from being consumed with guilt every time he saw Sven wince and grab his back, or heard the Norwegian tell his children he wasn't feeling well enough to play with them. And when the doctors had told Sven first that he would not live to see 60, then just six months ago told him he was dying . . . Lance had been devastated. He thought he had hidden it, especially from Sven, but learned differently when the navigator showed up on Arus shortly after calling the team to tell them his prognosis.

Sven had gotten off the ship stiffly, barely able to walk, and had gone straight for Lance, draping his arm over the Red Lion pilot's shoulders. "Come vit me; ve need to talk." Lance, unable to speak, had nodded and allowed his former teammate to steer him to a private balcony. Once there, Sven had folded his arms and leaned against the wall in a shadow of his normal pose. "Now. Vhat de hell is going on vit you? I saw de look on your face vhen I called; only Romelle has been more upset. Talk to me."

Lance had paced, agitated. "You really have to ask, Sven? You're fucking dying. You won't see your grandchildren, won't grow old with Romelle, and it's all my fucking fault!" He whirled to face the Norwegian, tears on his face. "I destroyed you, because I just had to chase that damned cat, and never thought once about Haggar being there too. God, how the hell can you even stand to look at me?"

Sven had pushed away from the wall painfully, then crossed the balcony and put his hands on Lance's shoulders. "I can stand to look at you because you are min bror, and I. . ." he hesitated a moment. "Because I love you, Lance. As I love all de team. You are my family. I knew vhen I followed you and saw Haggar dat I vould probably die right dere. And I vas at peace vit dat, if it meant you and de others vould live. More dan dat. . .had I not been hurt, had I not been captured and sent to Doom, I vould never have met Romelle. She vould have died in de Pit of Skulls. So. . ." the Norwegian gave one of his rare smiles. "you see, I owe you a great deal. And I haf not one regret. Now, I vill not haf you spending vhat time I haf left miserable over vhat cannot be changed. Help me enjoy vhat time I haf left, ja?"

Lance had agreed, and had done his best to help Sven make the most of his last months of life. And now, he was faced with much the same situation he had faced on that balcony. "He sacrificed his life for mine," he whispered, voice roughened by his tears. "I owe it to him to live it. And to keep the promise I made him, to take care of his most precious treasure. And I will," he said to the open window. "I swear it, brother. I'll take care of Romelle the rest of my life, no matter what I have to do." He took a deep breath, wiped his face with his glove, and got to his feet, picking up Sven's uniform and heading out.