Time was growing short; he could hear the change in her breathing as he sat at her bedside, holding her hand, fighting back his tears. "I love you, sweetheart, I always have, I always will," he whispered. "I wish you could stay. . ."

Faded blue eyes flickered open, locking on his green ones. "Lance," Romelle breathed, weakly squeezing his hand. "The. . .children? Grand. . . children?"

"Coming as fast as they can," he assured her. Erik was the Polluxian ambassador to the Alliance; Mirakel taught navigation at the Academy. Lance had called them home that morning, when the Royal Physician advised that Romelle was dying. "Just hold on; they'll be here in a few hours."

Romelle closed her eyes with a sigh. "I'll. . .try. Stay. . . with me."

"Not going anywhere," Lance promised, leaning over and kissing her forehead. "Love you, sweetheart." He sat for a long time, listening as her breathing hitched and slowed, thinking back on the thirty years they had spent together. Romelle had always quietly mourned Sven, but over time, she had come to love Lance, he thought, almost as much as she had loved the Norwegian. Gently he smoothed her silver-gilt hair back, his hand lingering on her cheek as his heart broke. "How do I say goodbye?" he whispered, "You're my world."

Romelle's eyes flickered and opened as she leaned into his hand. "You've been. . .so good to me," she breathed. "I love. . . you, Lance." Her hand came up shakily to cover his as her eyes fell shut once more; Lance turned his hand over and held hers, sitting silently as the hours wore on.

Late in the night, Erik and Mirakel arrived with their families and joined his vigil, insisting that he keep his place at Romelle's side. As the night wore on, Mirakel and Erik's wife put the little ones to bed, then came back to Romelle. She was in and out of awareness, saying little, but looking around the room eagerly every time she awoke. "She's looking for Pappa, isn't she?" Erik finally whispered to Lance, and the older man nodded.

"He promised to come for her, when the time came," Lance said softly. "Much as they loved each other, I don't think there's a power in the universe that could keep him from her now." He would have said more, but was interrupted by a gasp from Romelle.

"S-sven," she breathed, gazing raptly into a corner. Lance followed her gaze to see a flicker of blue and black. "At…last. . ."

The flicker moved out of the corner to the bedside, strengthening and resolving itself into the familiar form of her beloved Sven. "I told you I would come for you, elskede," he said softly, sitting on the edge of the bed and taking her hand. "Did you doubt me?" He smiled as she shook her head. "I have so much to show you; let's go home. . ."

Romelle looked around at her daughter, her son . . . her second love, all weeping unrestrainedly. "Love you. . .all. . .have to go. . .." Her eyes slid closed and she sighed, body relaxing as her spirit rose to stand at Sven's side. He slipped an arm around her waist, and the couple looked around lovingly at their family before fading from view.

As the sun came up, much later, a weary and grief-stricken Lance was persuaded to lie down. Mira led him to a guest room, pulling his shoes off and tucking a blanket around him before slipping out. Lance curled into the blanket, pulling the pillow close to soak up the tears he hadn't been able to stop. "She's gone," he whispered to the room. "What the hell do I do now? How do I live without her?"

"Lance, sweetheart," a feminine voice whispered. "Please don't cry. . ." He felt first one, then another presence settle on either side of him.

"Ja, please don't," said Sven's familiar accent. "I haf been dead far too long to be sick to my stomach."

Lance flew to a sitting position to find the ghosts of his love and his dearest friend on either side of him. "Wha—why are you still here?" he stammered. "I thought you left!"'

"Nice to see you too, min bror," Sven said dryly; Romelle just giggled. "Ve vere about to cross, vhen ve realized. .. ve couldn't. Not vit so large a part of us left behind."

"We need you, sweetheart," Romelle whispered. "And we know . . . we know you need us. So, we have an offer."

"What sort of offer? And. . . yeah. I miss you both so much it hurts, already. .. ." Lance looked down at his hands, swallowing more tears.

Sven put a transparent hand on his best friend's shoulder. "Ve talked about dis last night. Lance . . . you've had a good, long life. Ve vant you to come home vit us."

Lance had taken direct laser fire that had stunned him less. "Go . . . home with you? But . . . I'm nowhere near dying!" He wanted this, oh gods how he wanted it, but . . . didn't see how it was possible, and didn't dare get his hopes up.

"You don't have to be." Romelle tilted his chin up to look at her. "The mind is a powerful thing, and. . . being connected to both of us, and us dead, all you have to do is will it to happen, and it will."

Lance considered. The children and grandchildren would be devastated to lose him and Romelle at the same time; his teammates, with the exception of an increasingly senile Keith, would be hurt. Still . . . he was so tired. All his life had been for other people; wasn't it time to follow his own heart, especially if that meant following the other two parts of it? "Yes . . . please. I want to go with you. . ." He didn't try to hide the tears this time.

"Den lie back down and close your eyes, min bror," Sven said softly. "Focus on letting go . . . think of it as taking off a flight suit that does not fit you. . ."

The words were oddly hypnotic; Lance lay back against the pillows, eyes drifting shut, as he listened. Slowly he relaxed, feeling himself drift, then Sven's hand clasped his and pulled him to a sitting position. "Vell done, min bror," the Norwegian said with a smile; Lance somehow wasn't surprised to see his body still lying against his pillows as though asleep. Romelle squealed and wrapped him in a tight embrace; Sven chuckled softly and put his arms around them both, holding them for a long minute before the three of them faded from sight.

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Three days later, a grey coffin and a red one, bearing the coats of arms of both Arus and Pollux, were carried to a crypt beneath the Castle of Lions, where a blue one already rested. As Allura, Hunk, Pidge, and a surprisingly coherent Keith watched, the Voltron Force and cadets placed the grey casket in the middle of the crypt, then arranged the blue and red ones to either side of it. The interment was carried out in silence, with precise detail; the younger Force then marched out smartly, leaving the King and Queen with their teammates living and gone. Keith stood shakily from his wheelchair, shaking off a concerned Allura, and placed his hand on each casket in turn. "As in life, so. . .in death," he whispered. "Rest and be happy, my friends, my brothers, my sister. We will see you soon. . ." He dropped back into the chair and allowed Allura to wheel him out, Pidge walking beside him. Hunk pulled the crypt door closed, tears running down his cheeks as he touched the plaque it bore: "Sven Holgersson. . ..Lance McClain. .. Romelle Holgersson-McClain. . . .If love is great enough, death is not goodbye. It is farewell until we meet again."