One month after they married, Lance and Romelle received word from Pollux that Bandor, still insane, had suffered a heart attack and died in his sleep, and that the Council wanted Romelle to take the throne. Romelle sat and stared at the message, unable to take it in. Lance sat down beside her, gently taking the paper from her hand. "Talk to me, honey. What are you thinking?"
She looked at him for a long moment before she finally saw him. "I . . . Lance, I can't! I'm not that strong, I'm not Bandor!"
"Thank God for small favors," Lance muttered, slipping an arm around her shoulders. "Listen, it's up to you, you know that. But . . . you are and have always been the strongest person I know. Pollux needs a strong, kind ruler; I know you can be that ruler. And I will be right at your side to help you every step of the way."
Romelle shook her head. "You don't have to do that, Lance. Arus is your home; I'm not going to ask you to leave it. You've already done so much for me, and I don't know why."
"I'm your husband," Lance answered softly. "You don't have to ask me; my home is where you are. And as for why. . ." he hesitated a moment. "I wasn't going to tell you; I know Sven was your great love, and I can't hope to hold anything like the same position. But. . ." he took a breath. "Sweetheart, I fell in love with you the first time I saw you, all those years ago when the team snuck onto Pollux."
She stared at him dumbly; he nodded. "But . . . why didn't you say anything? Lance. .. ."
"Because the next time I saw you, Sven was your world, and you were his." Lance looked away. "I nearly cost him his life; I couldn't break his heart too. So I kept my mouth shut, stood at his side with a smile when he married you. I knew . . . he would be a better man for you than I ever could, at least then. And as long as you were happy, that was enough for me."
"You love me." Romelle said the words as if she'd never heard them before. "And you've just. .. stood by and watched me with Sven all these years?" She looked down at her hands, thinking back. How it was always Lance, more than any of the rest of the team, who was there to look after her when Sven was ill, or when he went mad with pain. She had written it off to Lance's fraternal relationship with Sven, but now . . . now it made far more sense.
"It was the best I could do," Lance said quietly. "That, and promising him every time he asked that I would take care of you when he couldn't." His green eyes finally met her blue ones. "I'm sorry I dropped all this on you; I don't ask you to feel the same way, and I won't let it change things if you don't want. I just. . .you deserved to know."
He started to get up and walk away; Romelle put a hand on his arm. "My poor Lance," she said softly. "I can't imagine what it's been like for you. I DO love you, you know that. I'm. . .just not sure I can love you THAT way. Give me time to sort through things?"
He managed a smile. "I'll give you the rest of my life, sweetheart. Take your time; I'm not going anywhere. Now. . .what do we do about this lovely piece of paper?" He waved the message gently.
"I have to try," Romelle frowned. "I have a duty to the people of Pollux. I don't know how good of a ruler I will be, but. . .you'll help me?" The last was said with a pleading look at Lance.
"Of course I will." Lance took her hands. "None of this will be easy, but we'll work it all out together. I know you can do this. And Keith and Allura will help us too. Come on, let's go tell them." He held his hand out to her, helping her to her feet, and together they went to find the King and Queen of Arus.
Two weeks later, Romelle and Lance were crowned Queen and Prince Consort of Pollux, with the Force and Romelle's children watching. Lance managed not to wince as the literal and figurative weight of the crown settled on his head, telling himself that he could bear anything that helped Romelle.
At the reception afterward, Erik and Mira cornered him, wearing identical Holgersson scowls. "So, what do we call you now?" Mira asked. "You're married to Mamma; Uncle Lance doesn't seem right."
"And on that note," Erik put in, "WHY did you marry Mamma, and why so fast? Could you not even let Pappa get cold before you moved in? I thought better of you, Lance."
"Now you wait one damned minute." Lance's voice was low, filled with the fire that had fueled Red Lion for so many years. "Not that I owe you ANY explanations, Erik Sven, but . . . I married Romelle to protect her. Polluxian law puts her under the control of her nearest adult male relative; when Sven died that became your damned Uncle Bandor. And given that he was putting her out in the street, I saw no other choice."
Erik opened his mouth to say something else; Mira elbowed him hard. "Thank you for taking care of her, Uncle Lance. We know you'll be good to her."
"Good as I know how to be, I promise," Lance said solemnly, then pulled her into a hug. "And I will ALWAYS be your Uncle Lance!"
Much later, Lance detached himself from the last of the well-wishers and wearily sought his bed, Romelle having pled exhaustion and left nearly an hour ago. Years of habit brought him to the corner guest room on the Royal wing. As he stumbled in and turned the lights on, he stopped dead to see Romelle sitting on the bed in a sheer nightgown, hair down around her shoulders, wearing a hopeful but uncertain expression. "Oh. . .uh, sorry, Melle. I. . .I'll find another room."
"No, don't." Romelle's soft voice stopped him as he backed towards the door. "I don't want to be in the Royal Suite, and the servants assumed we shared a room. I've been thinking about that, Lance. I haven't been fair to you. You have all the burdens of being my husband, but none of the benefits. That ends tonight." She stood and crossed the room to him, putting her delicate hands on his shoulders. "I want to be your wife, Lance. In every way."
Lance swallowed against a mouth gone dry, fighting his body's reactions. "Are you sure, Romelle? I want you to be sure; if you aren't ready, I'll understand."
"I'm sure." She stretched up and kissed him, arms twining around his neck. All of his reservations melted away as nearly thirty years of desire blazed up inside him, and he returned the kiss fervently, lifting her and walking them over to the bed. Gently he laid her back, leaving her just long enough to peel his dress uniform off before returning to her arms. They weren't twenty any longer, and certainly weren't virgins, but the love they made that night was no less passionate for age and experience. As he drifted to sleep hours later, Romelle cradled against him, Lance whispered a grateful prayer to his brooding Norwegian brother and whatever gods might be listening for seeing fit to grant him a chance he'd never thought he would have.