Author's Note: This was a really, REALLY tough chapter for me to write. I didn't want to rush it, and I certainly wanted to do the Sven/Len storyline justice. Trust me, I cursed the fact that I was out of Ciroc vodka.

Thank you to everyone who's reading! Your feedback and comments mean more to me than I can say.

To Emie Mac - Exactly right, Jeff would've had more money if VV hadn't been grounded. Blech. Good thing it's cheap rent at the Rackens' household.

To Sally On - What do you mean, wine, vodka OR antacid? We're not mixing?

To bknbu - No, no engagement between the princess and Captain Crankypants. But don't worry, just because it didn't happen yet doesn't mean it won't. :D

Title Song: "Fallen" by Sarah McLachlan

Once dinner was over, Erimar eloquently thanked the staff and his company for the delicious meal, then stood and extended his arm to Romelle in one seamless motion. Emma's mouth blatantly gaped open as her sister-in-law adoringly took the prince's hand and allowed him to help her up and escort her out of the room. Romelle looked over her shoulder briefly as she passed through the doorway. "Good night, Bandor. Good night, Emma. Have a pleasant evening."

Bandor nearly choked on his reply. "Good night, Sister."

Once Erimar and Romelle had left the room, the young king looked over at his new bride. "Emmy," he whispered across the table, "what in the universe is going on between them? Romelle looks at him the way she used to look at Sven."

Emma didn't want to tell him.

Outside of the dining room, Erimar gripped Romelle's arm. "You know, your brother's not stupid," he offered nonchalantly, his face smug and rosy from his activities with the princess over the course of the day. "He and his wife both know what's going on between us."

"Of course not," Romelle countered, much in denial. "We've been careful. There's no way either of them would know what we've been doing."

"Hmm." The prince closed his eyes for a moment, patting her hand. "Though I do think we need to talk, Romy. And not just about Bandor and Emma, either. About Erik. About your husband." He paused to shoot her that swoon-worthy look that could make her drop to her knees if she wasn't careful. "About us."

Immediately, she froze. "I thought we've already done that," she mused, shaking her head. "I can't leave my husband, Erim. He's a sick man, and he'll never recover if I leave him and take our son away from him. It's too much of a mess."

Erimar swallowed. "He doesn't treat you well. He's not well-liked by your people. And he doesn't have a drop of royal blood in him." He snorted. "That barbarian doesn't deserve you, Romy. He doesn't even come close."

A smile played on her lips. "He's not a barbarian. He's a Viking. There's a difference."

He rolled his eyes. "Whether or not the title makes a difference, it doesn't change who he is. You said it yourself, he's a sick man. He's a lousy husband, and he doesn't love you. Not the way you think he does."

"Yes. I know there's someone else." Romelle swallowed. It didn't hurt as much now as it had in the past; now that she'd gotten a taste of the handsome prince from Tyvel, she felt that she had evened the score between herself and her husband.

"He loves her, you know." Erimar hauled his words as a weapon. "Space Marshal Stensson. Or Mrs. Hawkins. Whatever you want to call her, he's in love with her. God knows he always has been, and he always will be." He shot her a look of pity. "Get out of the marriage while you still can, Romy. Don't let this man drag you down. If you stay with him, sooner or later he will make all of your lives miserable, and I can't guarantee that I will be there to help pick up the pieces when he does."

She inhaled. He made perfectly good sense, and there were some days she dreaded seeing Sven. That being so, he was still her husband, he would always be Erik's father, and they had once been the champions of Pollux together. It was hard to forget that.

"Erimar, I love you."

The prince gasped, his olive-green eyes widening in shock. "Oh, Romy. Come to Tyvel with me." He took her face in his hands and kissed her deeply. Romelle allowed herself to be romanced, allowed herself to enjoy the passion and desire that swept through her body. Then, as Erimar gazed down at her lovingly, she continued, "And now you need to leave."

"What?" He looked hurt.

"I wasn't lying when I told you that I love you. But right now, I cannot - and will not - leave my husband. So now you need to leave." She sighed. "The only way I'll be able to process my feelings is to sort them out by myself, without either of you around to cloud my judgment."

Though he didn't like it, Erimar nodded stiffly and honored her request. "I won't see you again before I leave, Romelle," he sneered in reply, quickly dropping the use of her nickname. "I'm sure your brother will be pleased to see me go. Send my regards to your sister-in-law; she is the most pleasant of the people I've encountered on your planet."

Romelle didn't bother responding, and she didn't watch him return to his room to gather his belongings, either. Instead, she headed straight to Castle Control, where she punched in the numbers to make contact with Galaxy Garrison.

Whether they liked it or not, she was going to bring Sven home. She needed to hash their relationship out and see if it could be salvaged before she did any further damage. She had cheated, and she had a sneaking suspicion that he had, too.

The had both fallen to rock bottom. Now, they needed to get back up.

"Cripes, I can't believe I actually did that," Lenora groaned as she sat down on the bed. She took the Louboutin heel off her right foot, then examined it carefully. "I can't believe I fell on West 57th. Well, at least I didn't hurt the shoes. My body will recover eventually, but my shoes won't."

"Funny how you're so concerned about your shoes. It must be the alcohol talking." Sven came back from the bathroom with a damp washcloth and made his way to the bed. Sinking to his knees, he muttered, "You really did a number on your leg, Elskede. I don't think it will scar, but you'll get an infection if I don't clean it up."

"Thanks in advance for that." The warm, soapy washcloth felt good against her bloodied scrape. She leaned back on the bed and closed her eyes, her head spinning from the amount she'd had to drink - and the food she didn't eat - at dinner. She was suddenly terribly tired, and vaguely aware of Sven's hands and lips against her shin and calf as he cleaned away the blood and gravel. "Hey, what are you doing down there?"

"Nothing. You're all better." He tossed placed the washcloth on top of the nightstand, then laid down next to her on the bed. Their legs dangled over the side. It was the biggest bed they'd ever been in together, bigger even than the bed they'd used on Arus. "Is it stinging?"

"No. It's okay."

"Too bad," he teased. "I'll try harder next time."

She laughed.

Their relationship had always had an easiness about it, and she had always loved spending time with him. She couldn't remember her life before him, and in all honesty, she really didn't want to remember her formative years. But this was not right. It had to end. If she didn't get out of this hotel room soon, something bad would happen, and she'd made a promise that she would remain faithful to Jon for the rest of her life.

Sven turned onto his side, propping his head up with his hand, gazing at her lovingly as her chestnut hair fanned over the comforter. "I love you, Lenora."

"We've been over this already, Holgersson."

He paused curiously, studying her face. "Leave your husband."

Her eyes popped open in alarm. "What did you just say?" she gasped. "Please tell me I didn't hear you right. Please tell me you didn't just ask me to leave my husband."

Sven sighed, then carefully reached into his pants pocket. "I don't wear this around my neck anymore, for obvious reasons," he stated as he held the object out in front of her. "And I know it doesn't compare to the diamonds that Hawkins put on your finger. But it's yours, from me, and I want you to wear it."

The little platinum Tiffany band gleamed in the overhead lighting. Lenora looked crestfallen as her gaze traveled from the ring to his face. His slate-blue eyes were so full of hope and desperation. It was going to kill him to hear the truth, and it was going to kill her to tell it to him.

"Sven, I can't wear it." She rolled onto her side to face him, and shook her head. "I don't wear yours anymore. Or Aidan's cornicello, or even my mother's cross. I have to leave my past in my past, and as much as I hate to say it, you're a part of my past. A really big part of it."

"Then why did you come back to my room with me on Arus? I told you at dinner, that was the best night of my life. Watching that backless dress slide to the ground, spending hours in bed with you...I can't get it out of my head."

"Try, Sven. You have to try." She pleaded with him earnestly in the hopes that maybe he would be able to move past her. "We're not cadets anymore. It's not the same."

"No, it's not," he agreed softly. "But I still love you. And you still love me. You told me that you will always love me."

That was her cue. Raising herself upright, she gazed at him mournfully. "Sven, it's true that I will always love you, because I do love you. I do." She bit her lip painfully, drawing blood. "But I'm in love with Jon."

She heard how sharply he drew his breath, and she knew it would have been less painful for him if she'd shot a bullet into his heart. "I'm sorry, Sven. I am."

Opening his eyes, he lifted himself up off the mattress, stalking towards the hot tub. How had she not noticed the hot tub before? Studying it further, she saw it was full of water, steam rising from the surface, ready to be used. Dozens of red rose petals floated on the surface, and no fewer than ten lit candles were perched on the edge of the tub. She noticed a bowl of stemmed strawberries and a bottle of Moët & Chandon 'Imperial' champagne - the same champagne her mother had ordered to toast them with on the night they'd gotten engaged.

He had prepared well for this. She had to give him that much.

"Sven."

He sat down at the edge of the hot tub and buried his face in his hands. "Oh, Elskede, I never thought you'd say no. I thought for sure..."

As his voice trailed off, she too sat up on the bed. Carefully, she slid her feet back into her heels and made her way over to him. "Vi har gått for langt," she whispered sadly, taking his face in her hands. "Jeg må forlate."

He removed his hands from his face and stared at her intensely with those eyes she loved. There was rage and sorrow, loathing and disbelief, behind the slate blue. "Deretter gå," he instructed, willing down the emotions in his voice.

She gave him one quick nod, then bent her knees so that she was at eye level with him. "Adjø." Then, placing her hands on either side of him on the tub, she brushed her lips against his. His beard tickled her chin, and she focused on that small detail as she pulled away - it was the only thing that kept her from going back to him and doing something she would regret. She turned and headed for the door, afraid to look back.

Sven couldn't watch as the door closed behind her. Instead, he chose to focus on her wedding band, the one which he'd slipped over the top joint of his pinkie. He might not have her, but he would always have her ring. At the rate he was going, he would cling to whatever shred of Lenora Stensson he could get.

They were already asleep in bed when her phone rang. Kelly yawned as she reached for it, and Taye groaned in his sleep before rolling over. That was the worst part of being the First Officer. When the Space Marshal was unavailable, the First Officer had to deal with whatever came through.

"Asimov," she answered.

"First Officer. It's Lieutenant Brown."

"Brown. Why the late call?"

"I've got the night shift, and we've, uh, got a transmission from a disgruntled princess."

A disgruntled princess? In the middle of the night? Are you freakin' kidding me? "Who is it, Brown?"

"It's Princess Romelle of Planet Pollux."

Sven's wife? Oh, seven hells. "What does she want?" she asked, suddenly forgetting about sleep.

"She's looking for her husband. She says she's sending a Polluxian transport and guard to the Garrison tomorrow, and she expects him to leave Earth and come home. Problem is, I don't know how to get in touch with him. That's classified information." He paused. "That's where you come in."

Kelly nodded, knowing that Brown couldn't see her. "All right. Tell Princess Romelle that I will deal with it first thing in the morning. I will have her husband on the Polluxian transport tomorrow. I'll see to this fiasco personally." She plopped her head back down on the pillow and closed her eyes. "Asimov out."

As she placed the phone back on the nightstand, Taye mumbled, "What the heck was that about?"

She sighed. "Something I've gotta deal with in the morning."

Vi har gått for langt: "We have gone too far"

Jeg må forlate: "I have to leave"

Deretter gå: "Then go"

Adjø: "Good-bye"