The original Voltron Force made a striking picture at the front of the cathedral. Four of them in gleaming Garrison white, Sven in the midnight blue of the Polluxian Special Forces, and all of them covered in medals. More than a few women in the congregation sighed over the five handsome men.
Sven was oblivious to all of them. All of his attention, all of his being, was focused on the back of the church, where Romelle would soon come in. He still didn't quite believe this was all real, that in just a few short hours, his elske would become his wife. Half of him expected to wake cold and alone back in his cave on Doom; only the pain from his still-healing injuries told him this was no dream.
The music changed; the doors at the back of the church opened and the first of Romelle's two bridesmaids entered, scowling. Sven hid a smile. Lady Larmina was ten years old, and thoroughly loathed anything resembling a dress. Getting her into the lavender ankle-length dress had required a bribe of two weeks' one on one martial arts training with Keith; clearly, though, no one had negotiated her pretending to like it.
Next came Allura, beaming as she glided down the aisle. The lavender dress and silver sandals looked worlds better on her than the pink ballgowns she usually favored, and he smiled at her. Her gaze was focused over Sven's right shoulder, and he suppressed a groan. Allura had gone head over heels for Keith the minute she came down those stairs their first day on Arus, and despite all their talking to her, despite Keith and Lance's very careful—and embarrassed—explanation of their relationship, she still had hopes that Keith would "come to his senses" and be her knight in shining armor, just like the fairy tales she read, just like she saw Sven had done for her cousin Romelle.
Allura took her place next to Larmina; the music erupted into a fanfare and shifted again as everyone rose. The back door of the church opened, and Sven took a step forward in spite of himself. Then Romelle came in walking beside Bandor, and he forgot how to breathe. She was a vision: blonde hair piled high in ringlets, secured with a tiara, with one or two escaping to frame her face; ivory silk and lace dress that bared her shoulders and hugged her slim figure, stopping just short of the floor. Her deep blue eyes were locked on him, and Sven could see tears shimmering in them as she got closer. His angel, in every sense of the word.
Romelle's world had narrowed to the powerful dark figure at the front of the church, grey eyes holding her misty gaze like a beacon, pulling her forward. He still didn't seem quite real to her, his love didn't seem real. Her world had ended, she thought, when Lotor raped her and threw her aside when he tired of her. She had been ready to die when the bastard threw her in the Pit of Skulls. Instead, her life had begun anew, courtesy of the man waiting for her. His gentle, patient love had saved her, in more ways than one. It still overwhelmed her, how much she loved him and he loved her in return.
At long last they reached the altar; Sven stepped down and Bandor put her hand in his. "Take care of her," the prince said quietly, then stopped, blushing, thinking of the wounds the older man carried from doing just that.
"Alvays and forever," Sven answered solemnly, then bowed over Romelle's hand and kissed it. "You look amazing, elskede," he whispered. Without waiting for a reply, he stepped back up to the altar, turning to face her and taking both her hands as the priest began the ceremony.
The two of them barely heard as the priest spoke of the duties involved in a royal marriage, of the obligations to support each other, to provide heirs for the monarchy. It was real, they were actually getting married. They had survived everything Doom could throw at them, and now. . .now they had the rest of their lives together. Sven squeezed Romelle's hands gently, and got a soft squeeze in return. Having her love was worth every spasm, every spike of pain his back would ever give him.
The priest finished his dry recitation and asked for the rings. Romelle got Sven's from Allura; Lance reached into his pocket and took out the dainty blue and white sapphire band that was Romelle's, handing it to Sven. The priest blessed both rings, then nodded for them to continue.
Romelle slid the plain silver band onto Sven's finger, then looked up at him, tears in her eyes and spilling down her cheeks as she spoke her vows. "I found you in the midst of a very rough time in my life. You were the strength that helped me through. Because of you, Erik Sven Holgersson, I laugh, I smile , I dare to dream again. Today I give myself to you as a friend. A lover and companion for life."
Sven found he had to clear his throat before he could speak, gently slipping his wedding ring onto Romelle's hand. "Romelle Amarrissa Callenderas. My elskede, my angel. You rescued me from the darkness, returned me to life." His voice broke; it was a minute before he got enough control to continue in his own language. "Du er mitt lys og mitt liv, mitt hjerte og min sjel.* Today I give myself to you as a friend and protector, a lover and companion for life."
The priest put his hands over their joined ones. "Blessed Goddess, Bright Mother. Grant your favor to the union of Romelle Amarrissa and Erik Sven. May they prosper and be fruitful, and serve you all the days of their lives." He smiled at the couple. "As the Voice of the Lady, I pronounce you man and wife. Erik Sven, kiss your wife, to show all present your claiming of her."
"Claiming be damned," Sven whispered to Romelle as he leaned down. "Jeg elsker deg, min Romelle.** Now and always." He kissed her gently and lovingly, to the applause of the Force and the assembled guests.
*You are my light and my life, my heart and my soul.
**I love you, my Romelle.