The next day, Lance went out before dawn and sat in Red's cockpit. A sense of mournful resignation surrounded him, and he smiled softly. "You know it's the right thing, old friend," he said quietly. "I can't take care of Romelle from Arus, and. . .I'm not getting any younger anyways."

I know, came the mental reply, laced with sadness. Still. . .you have been my partner a very long time, and I do not like parting from you. I will miss you, Fireheart.

"I'll miss you too. . ." Lance trailed his fingers along the console and controls, remembering every scratch and dent. "But you're OK with this?"

As all right as I may be. Red paused. Truthfully, we have discussed this for some time. While each of you will always be bonded to us, the simple fact is that war is for the young. The prince and I will work well together, and I know the others have selected their own new pilots. And you are quite right; the Princess of Pollux needs you. Without Frostwhisperer, she is lost and unbalanced; Blue fears she may do something rash.

Lance sighed. "Yeah, me too. Damn." He got to his feet reluctantly. "Better get to breakfast; goodbye, brother mine." A red mist swirled around the cockpit, quickly taking the form of a massive, loudly purring lion. The pilot went to his knees, burying his face in the lion's mane as he wept and the lion nuzzled against him. They stayed that way for a long time, then Lance got to his feet, wiping his face on his arm. The lion faded, and Lance hurried out without a backwards glance.

Inside, the team was eating breakfast with Bandor and Irenea; Romelle was nowhere to be seen. Lance quietly told Bandor of his decision to leave the Force and take care of Romelle; the king was absolutely gleeful, and it took every bit of Lance's self-control not to deck the little snot when he figured out why. Bandor had the usual Polluxian male attitude that women were useless except to bear children; he had all but ignored Romelle since she married Sven, and was only too happy to dump his widowed sister in someone else's lap. After all she and Sven did to help him rebuild this damned planet, Lance snarled to himself. He forgot his anger as Romelle wandered in, hair uncombed, in the dress she'd worn yesterday. Son of a bitch. . .he jumped to his feet and went to her, putting a gentle arm around her shoulders and guiding her to the breakfast table. As she looked around with vacant eyes, he got her a plate of scrambled eggs, softly coaxing her to eat. Sadly he watched as she blindly ate, clearly not registering her surroundings or what she was putting in her mouth. Red was right; she's absolutely lost. How the hell do I fix this? Can I fix it? Goddamnit, Sven. Wish I had the confidence in me that you did.

All too soon, breakfast was over and the team said their goodbyes. Lance swallowed a lump as he handed Red's key to a suddenly ridiculously-young Alfor; the prince was pale as he accepted it, promising to take good care of the lion. Lance shook his hand, embraced his teammates, then walked to the window and watched the lions roar into the stratosphere. When they were out of sight, he slowly turned and sat down beside Romelle, encouraging her to finish her breakfast. Bandor watched them impassively, then leaned over and whispered to Irenea, who stood and walked out. When she was gone, Bandor turned back to his sister. "Romelle? Romelle!" As Lance watched, Romelle's head slowly turned to face her brother, her face expressionless. "Irenea and I are going to resume our tour today. We will be gone two weeks. I want you gone from the palace when we return." Romelle nodded vaguely, still expressionless, and Bandor stood to walk out of the room, a smug air about him. Lance whispered to Romelle, then followed the king out of the room.

"Bandor, a word with you." The younger man turned and looked up at a livid Lance McClain. "What the hell is wrong with you?" Lance hissed. "Sven's barely cold, and you're kicking his widow, your fucking sister, out in the cold? After everything they've done for this planet?" The last sentence was screamed, Lance fighting to keep from smashing his fist into the little prick's face.

Bandor remained impassive. "My entire reign, I've been in the shadow of the great heroes, Sven and Romelle. Nothing I've done has ever compared to them. Well, now he's gone, and it's time I had my own space."

Lance felt a cold draft around him, putting him in mind of Sven, and took a deep breath, forcing himself to channel his brother's icy calmness . "You ungrateful little bastard. Fine, if that's the way you want it. You'll never, ever have to see her again. I'll take care of her, since she's been so damned awful to you. Have a nice life, Bandor. Enjoy your throne while you can, cause I'm going to tell the entire galaxy what you're doing to a woman who never did anything but love you." He turned on his heel and went back to the dining room, putting an arm around Romelle and walking her to her room. On the way, he grabbed a maid, coercing her into coming along to bathe and redress Romelle. Once the woman left, Lance himself picked up Romelle's brush, standing behind her and combing her hair out. "Don't worry, sweetheart," he said softly. "To hell with Bandor; I'm not going to leave you."

Romelle blinked at the feel of the brush in her hair, realizing that the person wielding it. . . felt different. Wide-eyed, she glanced up in the mirror to see—"Lance?"

He nodded. "Melle, honey, what do you remember of this morning?"

The question bewildered her. "I—remember going to breakfast, you making me eat. . ." She gasped, eyes going wider. "Oh, Lance, tell me Bandor didn't. . .?"

Lance nodded slowly, coming to kneel beside her and take her hands. "I wish I could say he didn't. I'm sorry, Romelle. I'm so damned sorry. I never realized what a bastard he was."

"What—what's going to happen to me? Where can I go?" Tears spilled down her cheeks, as the hurt over Bandor's treachery mixed with her raw grief.

"I'll take you anywhere you want to go," Lance promised, squeezing her hands. "Arus, Earth. . . we can live wherever you like. I promised Sven to take care of you, and I will."

"B-but. . . the Force. . .they need you. Lance, I can't ask that!"

"You don't have to; Sven did." He smiled reassuringly. "I retired yesterday, and the others will probably do the same. We're getting too old to fly around saving the universe." Lance reached up and wiped her tears. "Wherever you want to go, Melle. I'll always be here for you; you know I love you."

Romelle nodded, slowly getting control of herself, fire sparking in her eyes. "First, though. . .we give my brother his just reward."

Lance squeezed her hands. "That's our Valkyrie. Come on, let's get your things packed and out of here. We'll go to Arus for now; there we can make plans for the future. And ruin your ass of a little brother."