Keith turned at the sound of Allura's doors opening and his eyes widened with shock. For a brief instant, his heart skipped a beat.
Allura was wearing a strapless midnight blue confection that shimmered in the dim light. Beaded flowers decorated the low bodice that skimmed the soft curve of her breasts and trailed along the low back of her gown. Her hair was up in an intricate bun, but tendrils escaped from it, tickling her ears and the nape of her neck.
His eye was drawn to the ring that she wore on her finger, the ring that he had given her. He was suddenly struck by a feeling of old-fashioned masculine pride...
His princess was exquisite. He felt his heart warm as he realized that Allura was HIS princess, entrusted to him by Coran in a strange twist of fate that he would never have imagined, even in his wildest dreams.
Allura greeted him with a brilliant smile and a small curtsey, in what had become their own little private joke. She searched his eyes for approval, but she found them strangely veiled and unreadable.
Her smile trembled and faded. The single-minded intensity with which she was being studied was rapidly stripping her of all composure. "Shall we go? We don't want to keep the others waiting."
Keith merely nodded, a slight inclination of his head.
Allura lifted her skirts and tried to brush past him, but a gentle hand reached out and captured her arm, halting her progress. She raised her eyes to his face in confusion.
He gazed down at her for another unnerving moment, then held up a single red rose bud, placing it in her hands. "You look lovely, Princess," he said gruffly, reaching out a gentle hand to stroke her cheek to see if it was really as soft as it was appeared.
"Thank you," she said quietly as she dropped her eyes to the bloom in her hand. The sincerity in his voice and the intensity in his eyes made her suddenly shy and unsure of herself.
Keith stared down at her. He was caught by a strange depth of emotion that he had never felt before. Hesitation and indecision warred within him for a brief moment, before his handsome features finally relaxed in a smile
In keeping with the request of the Public Affairs Divisions of both Galaxy Alliance and Galaxy Garrison, Keith and Allura agreed to hold a short conference prior to the reception.
The official press area was cordoned off with a velvet rope at the side entrance of the stately mansion. Fifty reporters milled around under the watchful eyes of the Garrison Public Affairs officers.
The noise level dropped as Ambassador Orsant, the thin, balding Director of Public Affairs of Galaxy Alliance stepped forward, "Ladies and gentlemen of the press," he announced formally, "Their Highnesses, the Prince and Princess Royal of Arus!"
Flashes went off in a blinding blur and mini-cameras began to record the moment as soon as Keith and Allura appeared at the side entrance. Allura blinked against the lights, surprised and more than a little disconcerted.
Her fingers shook as she took Keith's arm, but she managed to hold on to her smile. She had never felt so painfully self-conscious in her entire life, and, from the tension she felt in the muscled arm beneath her hand, she knew that Keith felt the same way too.
"Their Highnesses have agreed to answer questions for five minutes, so please keep your questions short and to the point," the Alliance official continued.
The anticipated pandemonium began instantly. Questions were shouted from almost everywhere — the loudest coming from a middle-aged reporter in the front row. "Your Highness, how long have you known each other?"
"We first met when Keith came to Arus with the rest of the Voltron Force," Allura replied. "That was four years ago."
"Captain, you were considered one of Galaxy Garrison's finest officers. Do you regret giving up your career for love? Do you think you'll miss what you could have had?"
Allura held her breath, as she waited to hear Keith's answer. Those were the questions that weighed on her mind during her quiet moments, but hadn't asked, afraid that she wouldn't like the answer.
"I'm not giving up anything," Keith laughed. "I joined GG because I wanted my life to make a difference and that's exactly what Allura and I do on Arus. She rules it and I back her up."
Allura shook her head and addressed the reporter, "Keith's being much too modest. He does much, much more than that... As commander of the Voltron Force, he and the others have given the people of the dozens of planets their lives and freedom back, but they've also given them something infinitely more precious.
"What's that, Princess?" A curious reporter shouted from the back of the crowd.
"Hope," Allura said simply, turning to Keith with a smile in her eyes.
The rest of the press conference continued in the same vein. Keith and Allura answering questions with unflappable serenity, their smiles and charm never wavering, until the very last question was called out by a portly bespectacled man in the very first row.
"We've been hearing rumors that Galaxy Garrison plans to become more aggressive in the conflicts with the Doom and Drule empires. Can either of you comment on this?"
General Kreno, Ambassador Orsant's counterpart in Galaxy Garrison, immediately waded into the fray with his verbal fists raised, saving Keith and Allura from having to answer. "I'm sorry, that's classified information. We'll be releasing a statement after all the details have been worked out."
The landscaped grounds of the lavish Garrison City estate that was the official residence of the Space Marshal of Galaxy Garrison twinkled with tiny white lights that had been strung in all the trees.
Music from Terra's big band era, in the mid-20th century drifted through the air as the Garrison orchestra played. White-coated waiters passed deftly through the glittering crowd of partygoers dispensing appetizers and champagne.
The Vehicle Team stood, off to one side of the garden, and tried to look like they belonged there in the glittering crowd of Garrison and Alliance officials.
"We're round pegs in square holes," Cliff muttered under his breath as he tugged uncomfortably on the starched collar of his formal dress uniform. "We should be out running drills or exploring, not standing here socializing."
"I agree," Crik replied, shooting his cuffs a glance to make sure that the correct one-and-a-half-inches of snowy white cotton showed beneath the sleeves of his jacket.
"Maybe we can leave early," Marvin suggested hopefully, tilting his head to one side. "I don't think Captain Keith will mind... By the way, Hutch, I think you're missing a stud in your shirtfront."
"What!?" Hutch fingered the front of his shirt. "Damn. You're right." He glanced desperately. "And Space Marshal Graham's on his way here! Oh, no, what do we do?!"
Chip sighed in resignation and reached into his pocket to find a spare shirt stud, which he handed to Hutch. No wonder Pidge stressed the need to keep spare buttons on hand during formal functions — he probably ran into the same problems with his team on Arus.
"Calm down, Hutch!" Shannon retorted. "Marshal Graham's on the other side of the room, and there are hordes of people between us. It'll be hours before he manages to make his way here, if he decides to greet us at all."
Lisa, Ginger and Cinda rolled their eyes in unison and tried to ignore the problems of their male co-pilots. One of the first lessons they had learned as a team was that there were times when they had to let the boys be boys.
"The decorations are lovely, aren't they?" Lisa remarked half-heartedly, as a slender hand played with the long chiffon skirts of her forest green evening gown.
The other girls turned to look at the grounds with forced interest.
Lighted sculptures of famous ships were scattered around the vast lawn of the opulent estate, where three dozen large round tables were set up, laid with snowy white damask linens and sparkling china and silverware.
"Did you notice the sculpture of the Explorer at eleven o'clock?" a Ginger said as she surreptitiously examined the area for handsome men. In deference to the occasion, she had chosen to wear a black gown, but in classic Ginger fashion, one shoulder was left bare and slit halfway up her thigh.
"Oh, look," Cinda said suddenly, an enchanting gamine in her sleek column of red silk — high necked and long-sleeved. "Keith and Allura have arrived."
As one, they all turned to watch the Prince and Princess Royal of Arus walk calmly through the crowd with their heads held high, seemingly unaware of the people who turned to stare at them.
"Champagne?" a waiter inquired, as he proffered a silver tray upon which rested tulip-shaped glasses.
Allura nodded, so Keith got two and handed her one.
He sipped it absently as he surveyed the crowd. There was the usual assortment for such occasions: diplomats, military officers, business people, a handful of representatives from the arts, and a few who couldn't be quite pegged.
In the space of one heartbeat, he felt his face drop from an expression of smiling urbanity to one of shocked amazement when he noticed the mark on Allura's bare shoulder.
Allura sensed Keith's attitude take a drastic change. She turned to him uncertainly with wide, concerned eyes. "Keith?" she asked, laying a gentle hand on his arm. "What's wrong?"
Keith swallowed and bent closer to examine the small mark. It was a perfectly formed bird with wings of flame. He turned her around with hands that were surprisingly gentle, and touched her shoulder tentatively. He lowered his voice to a harsh whisper. "I thought you were only going shopping. What the hell were you thinking about when you got that?!"
Allura's eyes widened in reaction to the shock and surprise in her husband's voice. She turned her head to see what he was talking about. "My birthmark?"
Keith blinked and groaned inwardly. Once again he had jumped to conclusions and had humiliated himself in the process. He grinned sheepishly at her. "I'm sorry. I thought it was a tattoo."
Allura shook her head and took a small sip of her champagne. She didn't say a word, but the gentle amusement that danced in her eyes told him that his faux pas was forgiven and forgotten.
He heaved a sigh of relief and suddenly realized that he was nervous. Tonight had all the uneasiness of a first date — which it was — even though they were married. He chuckled out loud at the irony of the situation.
Allura glanced at him quizzically.
He shook his head and changed the topic. "I found the Vehicle Team. They're standing over there, near the bar and they look like they'd rather be anywhere else but here."
"They do look rather uncomfortable in their dress uniforms." Allura commented with a laugh. "They make me feel right at home."
Keith grinned back at her, idly wondering why the sound of her laughter thrilled him to his bones. He reached out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "I doubt that we'll be able to get to them before dinner, but let's try our luck and say hello to the guys."
Allura agreed with a bright smile and slipped her hand into the crook of his arm affectionately. Being this close to him felt right — and her heart sang when she felt Keith reach over and cover her hand with his own.
On their slow trek around the perimeter of the gigantic garden, they made numerous stops to greet the many friends, acquaintances, and colleagues of the Blackwell family. Each time, Keith drew Allura forward, proud to introduce her as his wife.
It soon became obvious that he was well liked and respected by his friends and associates, and his choice of bride met with acceptance and approval, if not immediately, then shortly after exposure to Allura's unique blend of spirit, intelligence and charm.
A sleekly coiffured silver-haired woman who had cornered Allura in a conversation for several minutes halted Keith as he passed and smiled with the privilege of years of friendship. "Young man, you have a lovely wife."
Keith grinned affectionately at the woman who had been his grandmother's closest friend. "Thanks, Mrs. Maya. I wish Katie Nana had lived long enough to meet her."
"They would have gotten along wonderfully," Mrs. Maya laughed. "Allura reminds me of her, you know. They have the same refreshing outlook towards life."
A lazy grin flashed across Keith's handsome face as his gaze drifted towards his wife as she stood talking to the Belgarion ambassador. "I know. Why do you think I married her?"
Mrs. Maya couldn't help but smile as she watched a strange mixture of pride and tenderness flicker across the face of the young man she loved like a grandson.
That look took her back years. She had seen that look hundreds of times before, on the face of her best friend's husband — a man who had been hopelessly besotted with his wife.
As Keith had predicted, they were not able to join the rest of the Voltron Force before dinner. As the guests of honor, they had to join Marshal Graham and several other high-ranking officials at the head table.
He had been more than a little relieved when the white-suited waiter arrived to clear away their plates, signifying the end of the meal. He had found it difficult to concentrate during the meal, but he hoped that he had managed to look moderately interested in the conversation.
He couldn't stop thinking about the note that the Space Marshal had slipped him during dinner. "I'd like to see you in my study after dinner." It was a strange, tersely worded note that had no after word or explanation.
After a hushed conversation with Allura, it was decided that she would stay with Cliff and the other members of the Voltron Force while he went to see what the Space Marshal wanted.
The official residence of the Space Marshal of Galaxy Garrison was a tribute to the great wealth and power of the organization he led. The facade of the house was actually quite simple, but once inside, visitors were greeted by a vast marble floor.
Keith forced himself to walk slowly. This place was treacherous, he remembered with a wince. As a little boy, his knee had been constantly bruised because of all the times he had slipped when running across this very floor.
His heels clicked floor as he marched towards the Space Marshal's private study, where an armed sentry stopped him as he approached. "I'm sorry, Captain, sir, but this area is off-limits."
"The Space Marshal is expecting me," Keith explained quietly. "My name is Keith Blackwell."
Recognizing the name, the sentry snapped to attention and stepped aside. "I'm sorry, Captain. I didn't recognize you. Please go in. Marshal Graham has been expecting you."
Keith nodded and returned the sentry's salute. He walked to the door and tugged at the hem of his jacket before rapping decisively to announce his presence. Hearing a muffled acknowledgement, he opened the door and entered the room.
It looked exactly like he remembered it, even though it had been years since he was there last. He snapped to attention and offered a crisp military salute. "Captain KA Blackwell reporting as ordered, SIR!"
"At ease, Keith. That was a request, not an order." Richard Graham turned from his position by the window, where he had been watching the people milling around on his lawn. "Please, have a seat."
"Thank you very much, Sir," he said politely as he sat down.
"You're a bit too big to fit under this desk now." The Space Marshal commented idly as he crossed from the window to his desk. "I remember how you used to spend hours hiding here, watching your grandfather work."
Keith chuckled wryly. "In retrospect, it was a wonder he got anything done. I was always underfoot — literally!"
A fond grin crossed the normally serious face of the Space Marshal. "Did I ever tell you that you were the youngest person that the Intelligence Section ever investigated? There was some concern because of how much classified information you had access to."
Keith chuckled politely as the Space Marshal continued. ""Before I tell you why I asked you to come here today, I wanted to congratulate you on your marriage. I hope that you and the Princess will be very happy together.
"Thank you. We hope so too," Keith said, automatically, studying the Marshal intently. Richard Graham looked tired, as though he carried the weight of the universe on his broad shoulders.
"I also wanted to discuss something with you," Marshal Graham endured Keith's scrutiny as he leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers, trying to formulate his thoughts. "You may have heard the rumor about the possible escalation of the offensive against Zarkon."
"Yes. A reporter asked a question about that during our short press conference." Keith replied, realizing with a start that the tolerant, accepting paternal figure that he had known as he was growing up was gone.
The Space Marshal nodded. "It couldn't be more wrong," he explained quietly. "The Strategic Operations group is pushing me to initiate peace talks with Zarkon."
Keith shot the Space Marshal an incredulous look. He had known Richard Graham for most of his life and he had always had had the utmost faith in the man's wise judgment. "Sir? Are you actually considering this?"
"Unfortunately yes," Richard Graham admitted, reluctantly. "The SOG has some valid concerns about our ability to wage a war on two fronts. Our reserves are dangerously low already."
Keith's brows drew together. "Sir, to be perfectly honest, I think that you're playing a dangerous game here. Signing a peace treaty with Zarkon would be like letting the fox into the hen house," Keith said bluntly.
"I know."
"Then why are we even talking about it?" Keith demanded.
Marshal Graham leaned forward. "Because they won't listen to me," he admitted bluntly. "People have seen how horrible war is and they don't realize that a bad peace can be even worse than a war."