A week later, Lance sought out Keith and Allura as they finished a council meeting. "Need some advice, and don't know where to turn but you two," he said quietly, dropping into a chair at the conference table.
"What's wrong?" Allura asked, blue eyes sympathetic.
"Romelle," Lance sighed. "Gods, she's so. . .lost. I don't know what to do to bring her back, and everything seems to remind her of Sven. She's not happy here, Bandor's being such an ass I don't dare take her back to Pollux—and I STILL don't trust him not to do something stupid with or to her. . . .what the hell do I do?"
"It would be easier if Erik was of age," Keith said thoughtfully. "But, since he isn't, legally Romelle's at Bandor's mercy. Unless. . ." He eyed Lance speculatively. "Her husband would be able to overrule any authority Bandor has over her."
"What are you talking about?" Lance was confused. "Kind of hard for the Viking to do ANYthing, lying in the Castle crypt."
"Don't be dense." Keith thwacked him in the back of the head. "YOU could marry her. Then It would be YOUR wishes that prevailed legally, not Bandor's."
"Oh, no. No. No way." Lance's eyes were huge. "How can you even say that, Keith? I won't betray Sven that way!"
"How is it betraying him to do what you promised?" Allura countered softly. "Lance, you promised Sven on his deathbed that you would take care of Romelle; the best way to do that, to protect her from Bandor, is to be her husband."
Lance shook his head, hesitating. He could see the logic in his friends' words, but . . . Romelle was Sven's, utterly and completely. The Norwegian's death had not altered that. And . . . much as he himself loved her, had loved her since he first saw her, could he . . .? What right did he have, to take Sven's place? "I need to think," he mumbled, and bolted from the room. Keith half-rose to follow him, but dropped back into his chair at Allura's touch on his arm and Black's pressure on their bond.
It had been Lance's intention to go out to Red; he always did his best thinking in the cockpit, and his bonded partner could always be relied on to contribute his own piercing insights to whatever dilemma he faced. To his surprise, however, he found himself not in Red's cockpit, but in Blue's. As he blinked in bewilderment, a female voice filled his head. Forgive me, Fireheart. But he insisted on speaking with you, and he is at his strongest here. So Alpha clouded your mind, directed you to me rather than to my brother.
Lance was even more confused. "Who is stronger here? What the hell is going on?"
"She means me, min bror. And I vant to talk to you about min elske." Lance froze, then turned to see Sven lounging against the back wall, arms folded in the pose that was so much a part of him.
Fear washed over Lance, and it took a moment for him to speak. "Uh, what about her? It. . it's not like I'm going to marry her or anything. I mean, she's your wife, she loves you, I wouldn't move in on her. I couldn't. You're better than—"
The Norwegian cut him off with a slash of a ghostly hand. "Vhy vould you not marry her? I am dead, Lance. I cannot protect her any longer. And I am no fool; I know very vell dat you haf loved her since first you saw her. She vill mourn me, but come to love you in time. And dere is no von else I vould trust her to."
Lance blinked. "Wait, you want me to marry her? But. . .Sven, I can't."
Sven favored him with a withering look that lost none of its acidity for being transparent. "No man vants to see his vife marry anoter. But. . her brother is a danger to her, and de only vay she vill be safe is as your vife. I asked you on my deathbed, Lance; I ask you again; take care of min elske. My blessing you haf to do vhatever dat takes."
Lance finally nodded. "If she agrees to it. . .I'll treat her like a queen, Sven. I swear it."
"I know you vill. Und she vill agree; I haf already told her I vant her to do dis. Remember I luf you bot, min bror. Farval." The spirit faded, leaving a stunned Lance McClain to sit for a good ten minutes before collecting himself and going in search of Romelle.
He found her in the guest room they were staying in, staring out the window at Blue's watery home. "Romelle?" he said softly, coming up behind her and putting his arms around her. "Sweetheart, we need to talk. . ."
Romelle leaned against his shoulder. "It's about Bandor and what he's doing, isn't it? Lance, how do I stop him?"
"There's only one way." Lance turned her to face him, putting his hands on her shoulders. "The way the law is, you're at the mercy of your closest adult male relative, and Erik's a good five years from being of age in the eyes of Polluxian law." He took a breath, green eyes looking into blue ones. "The only answer is that you need a husband. I. . . I'm not a tenth the man Sven was, and I never will be. But I promise I'll take care of you, be as good a husband as I can be. Will you marry me?"
The princess blinked up at him, stunned. Suddenly, a conversation with Sven in his last days came to her mind.
She had been lying in his arms, comforting him as had become their habit, when he quietly spoke, hand still stroking her hair. "I do not haf much longer, elskede. Vhen de time. . .comes. . .promise me you vill not spend your life alone. Find somvon to love, dat vill luf you and keep you safe. Den I can rest in peace. Promise me?" He looked so worried that she agreed to keep him calm, then thought nothing more about it.
"This is what Sven meant," she murmured, then spoke louder. "Yes, I will marry you, Lance. I. . .I will always love Sven, but. . .he cannot protect me now. And I am afraid of what my brother will do." The tears which never completely left her started again.
Lance pulled her into his arms, holding her close and stroking her hair. "He will never harm you again," he promised. "I'll keep you safe, sweetheart. Always. I love you, you know that. I'll take care of you." He dropped a kiss on her blonde hair and walked them over to a chair, holding her and talking softly as she cried herself to sleep.
The next morning, they sought out Keith and Allura, telling them of their decision. The King and Queen of Arus were delighted for them, and quickly married them in a quiet ceremony witnessed only by the Voltron Force. As Lance kissed his new bride, he felt a chill breeze swirl around them and smiled softly, knowing his best friend was gone to his overdue reward. It was with unholy glee that he contacted Pollux, Romelle at his side, and informed King Bandor that Mrs. McClain was no longer subject to his whims. The bantam-sized king had turned nearly purple, sputtering incoherently as they ended the transmission.
On Pollux, King Bandor's life had become a shambles, and it was all thanks to that no good, rebellious harpy that called herself his sister. It had started with a white-faced guard coming to him, the morning after he ordered her to come home like an obedient wench, to report that Sven's body had vanished from the crypt, in spite of the guard he had ordered posted and the security cameras. As he was processing that bit of information, his niece and nephew called, livid at his treatment of their mother. After pointedly telling him what they thought of him, they both formally renounced their positions as his heirs and disowned him. Worse, somehow word of his treatment of Romelle had leaked to the people, and there was a protest taking place on his own front lawn! And the harpy was out of his reach on Arus; the bastard she had thrown herself at had made it quite clear that Bandor no longer had a sister Romelle. Such things never would have been tolerated in his father's day, he grumbled to himself as he got into bed. Irenea was silent; she at least knew her place, unlike his shrewish bitch of a sister.
He found himself in the middle of a howling blizzard, no landmarks to be seen. As he stumbled through the snow, shivering, he heard the deep, menacing laugh of his former brother in law. "King Bandor. .. . .you do not listen vell, do you? I varned you to leaf min Romelle alone. I told you it vould not go vell for you, if I had to return." Bandor looked around blindly; the voice seemed to come from everywhere. "What do you want from me?" he screamed .Sven laughed, materializing from the blizzard. "Isnt dat obvious, King Bandor? I vanted to kill you for vhat you did to Romelle; it seems now, though, dat letting you live is a far vorse punishment. Enjoy vhat you haf made of your life, if you can." The navigator faded from sight, leaving Bandor alone in the blizzard. Cold. . .it was so cold. . .and he couldn't find his way out. . .blindly he stumbled along, as the blizzard's fury increased.
Irenea tossed restlessly, unable to sleep. Finally she rolled over hesitantly to see if Bandor was having the same trouble. Her soft words ratcheted up into a shriek that woke the entire Castle. The first sentry to break in to the Royal bedchamber found the Queen screaming hysterically, huddled in a corner as far from the bed as she could get. King Bandor lay curled in a ball, ice cold and shivering, babbling random nonsense. The sentry would later swear that he heard Commander Holgersson's soft laughter in the room.