Title: Iris
Fandom: Voltron, Lion Team
Author: Purrsia Kat
Genre: Drama, Romance
Rating: PG-13
Start Date: June 2005
Summary: This was a challenge from the Yahoo Group,
Voltron’s Fancy as some members took part in a lyric wheel. Based on the lyrics
I was given, I decided to pen a quick one shot – a bittersweet look at Sven and
Romelle’s love, told entirely from Sven’s point of view.
By Purrsia Kat
It was the eve of their wedding, and Sven sat
quietly in his quarters at the royal palace on Pollux, alone with his thoughts.
He felt numb. Part of him still wouldn’t believe this day had arrived. Though
he knew in his heart it eventually would.
He leaned back in his chair, which afforded him a
spectacular view of the valley below and the mountains beyond. The
mid-afternoon sun glistened on a distant stream in the valley, creating a
winding thread that sparkled like a diamond necklace. It was a lovely day, one
perfect for a royal wedding.
His window also gave an impressive view of the
castle’s great expanse of lower level balconies and this was where the royal
servants could be seen, bustling about to get everything in order for the
coming ceremony. Pots and vases full of flowers were everywhere – it was a
sight to behold. But Sven preferred to close his eyes and drift back to a
different time. Back when he first fell for Romelle.
He’d long become resigned to living out the rest of
his days in the caverns under the Pit of Skulls, depressed and angry for
failing himself and the Voltron Force. That is, until she tumbled down to him
like a fallen angel. It wasn’t just her beauty that caught his eye – her
resemblance to Allura was indeed uncanny. Rather, it was her strength of heart
and compassion that really sold him on her and brought him back from the brink
of insanity. He’d pushed her away at first but she would have none of it. She
had been determined to see them both through that horrible time, though he was
sure the cruelty that she would witness there on Doom would crush even her
spirit, as he believed it had his own. How much more then had it impressed him
when she overcame it all and emerged from that nightmare not only sane but with
a vow to return for the other slaves they were forced to leave behind. That vow
she would not break.
He learned pretty early that she was a Princess, the
way she carried herself gave off such an air. Though there had been a time when
he’d have been quick to believe the stereotypes of such a station – the
snobbery, the unwillingness to get ones own hands dirty – Romelle proved to him
otherwise. Even after their initial escape from Doom, she went back with him to
help fight and liberate the slaves there, paying more than just lip service to
her promise to come back for them. She’d earned his respect, love and
admiration and she would always have that.
It was during this second time on Doom when he was
feeling confident enough to show how he felt. They were spending another long
night in hiding, biding their time for the right moment to strike. Sitting by a
small campfire tucked inside an otherwise dark and dank cave, they shared
stories in hushed tones to pass the time. The tales started out light and
general in nature, but soon turned more personal and touching. He found himself
telling her things he’d been afraid sometimes to even admit to himself. She
somehow always knew what to do or what to say to make him feel better, so that
he felt less embarrassed for bearing his soul and most of all, with her he felt
as though he belonged again. With her, he could forget his failures and matter
once again.
And in that moment of bonding, he had to reveal one
more thing. He was madly in love with her. She faltered and he thought for a
moment he’d gone too far, said too much. But, then she began to gently explain
that, though she had similar feelings that she was already promised to another
of royal lineage – it was a marriage arranged long ago by her father. Part of
her was loyal to her father’s memory and her planet’s traditions. But part of
her wanted to feel the touch of the man she truly loved, not some stranger she
was pledged to that she hadn’t even met yet. For centuries, love hadn’t been
part of the equation for Polluxian royalty – it was a calculated transaction
for the sole benefit of dowries, status and bloodlines. She confessed she hated
the idea of a loveless union.
Their eyes met and Sven could tell she was on the
precipice of daring to defy those traditions. And perhaps it had been wrong of
him, but his own emotion drove him to encourage her as he drew her close and
kissed her passionately. Why shouldn’t they be together, he had reasoned. Her
father and eldest brother were gone, she was the heir to the throne and had
already ushered Pollux into a new era of being motivated by what was right
rather than by what brought it the most gain. Being together seemed
perfect. Her body was so warm, close and
soft. This would be just another part of the changes that had swept their lives
and so he reveled in the moment and the confidence that she would choose love.
The release of their mutual pent up emotion was
powerful, and they eventually ended up making love by the fire. Sven had had
his share of lovers, but despite the despair of their surroundings and a little
creative maneuvering to lessen the discomfort of lying on the hard ground, it
was an amazing experience. One he knew he would remember all his days. There
was no self-consciousness, no shame. Just an overwhelming feeling of love,
passion and acceptance as they physically merged together. He held her through
the night and never wanted it to end.
Yet, as it must, it had.
Sven opened his eyes, knowing he had to face
reality. Though he thought their love would endure and that it would be him
ushering Romelle off to some rose-petal strewn honeymoon suite tonight it was
not to be. In the months that passed after that night on Doom, Romelle could
not escape the trappings of her station, though at first she tried. At one
point she’d even swore she’d give it all up and let her young brother Bandor
assume the throne. But in the end, she’d made a promise to another man she
deeply loved – her father – and she could not bring herself to forsake it. The
matter of her people, and the fact that they’d grown to depend on her
leadership also greatly pressured her. He could tell it broke her heart to do
so, and Sven wished he’d known what to say on that last intimate night they
shared together months ago when she tearfully confessed that they were not
meant to be.
The arranged marriage would go on as planned and
Sven’s dream of growing old with Romelle would die tonight. The memories made
it too difficult to stand any longer. He wanted to be the bigger man – attend
the wedding, wish Romelle love and happiness. They had both met her intended,
of course, by now and as much as Sven hated to admit it, he wasn’t a bad man.
He was handsome, confident and yet, romantic and thoughtful – and most of all,
a Prince. Just about everything Sven wasn’t. He surely had more to offer
Romelle than the drudgery of a simple civilian life. He would also be lying if he
didn’t admit it hurt to watch her grow fond of her Prince as he courted her.
Romelle ended up, it would seem, getting it all – her station, her Prince, and
love. He should be happy for her, but his own misery wouldn’t let him.
An ironic smile crossed Sven’s face as he realized
he was back where he began – in that limbo of no longer really belonging
anywhere. He couldn’t really return to Arus and join up with the Voltron Force
again. And his presence on Pollux was suddenly unimportant, not to mention intrusive
in a way. Not that Romelle ever made him feel unwelcome but he surely had a
hefty case of third wheel syndrome.
Tears stung at his eyes and he hastily wiped them
away. He wasn’t sure where he was going to go, but he felt he could no longer
bear witness to the union of the woman he loved to another. It was too much. He
simply hoped Romelle would understand and if she ever thought of him, that they
were fond thoughts. With that, he rose from the chair and gathered a few
personal items from the room. Before leaving, he hastily scribbled a note and
left it on the stand beside his bed. Stepping out into the hall, a stand with a
vase upon it filled with Irises caught his eye. It was, he knew, Romelle’s
favorite flower. It also dominated the arrangements on the balcony below for
likely that reason. On impulse he plucked a bloom from the vase, and with its
stem dripping a trail back to his room as he carried it, left it beside the
note he’d penned. Of all the things her prince had lavished on her, including
flowers of all types, it seemed to escape him the particular things Romelle
favored most. But Sven knew. And this was his way of showing it one last time.
Afterwards, he stole down the hall careful to avoid
eye contact with anyone he passed and hoped he would not run into Romelle. He
was almost successful, but as he reached the lower level of the castle and made
his way to the west wing exit – in the vain hope it was bustling with less
activity – he heard a soft and familiar voice call his name. At first, he kept
walking briskly, as if he hadn’t heard. It was no use. She caught up with him,
and he had to turn to acknowledge her when she’d reached out to grab his arm.
To his surprise, it was not Romelle after all, but her look-alike cousin Allura
who had no doubt traveled to Pollux from her native Arus to witness the
nuptials.
“A-allura,” he stammered in surprise. Sven gulped,
not knowing what to say and kept his eyes downcast in the hope she wouldn’t
notice he’d been crying.
It was futile, of course. The Arusian Princess could
tell something had him upset and if he knew her at all, she wouldn’t just let
it drop. He sighed heavily, dreading the interrogation to come. Sven’s eyes
slowly met hers, and immediately saw her pretty face was a mask of deep
concern. After reading his expression a moment, her expression changed to that
of sudden understanding and sympathy – it was almost too much for Sven to bear.
When she glanced at the bag he was holding, he knew
she’d likely figured out the rest of his intentions as well. “Sven, tell me
you’re not leaving. I know it’s hard,” she continued in soft, hushed tones and
it was clear Romelle must have confessed their affair to her for she seemed to
gather Sven had more than a passing interest in her cousin, “but your being
there would mean a lot to Romelle.”
Suddenly, Sven felt angry and though he’d later
regret it, he lashed out at Allura. “You don’t understand,” he accused her
bitterly. “I can’t. I can’t do this. Now leave me be.” He turned and took a few
steps as if to leave it at that.
“I understand more than you know,” Allura replied
firmly. She gathered the excess material on the skirt of her fine gown and
dashed over to Sven so that he had to face her. “Romelle and I – we have the
same quandary – be with the men we truly love or do what we have to do for the
sake of our families and our people. It’s you she’ll always love Sven. You
still need each other. The people of Pollux need you.”
He gaped at Allura for a moment. She hadn’t seen
Romelle and her betrothed grow ever closer over time – she knew nothing! “We’ll
see what happens when the day comes that you marry your prince. I’m sure Keith
will be all smiles and showering the two of you with his blessings. I, however,
cannot live in this castle with Romelle and him,
while continuing on as if the knowledge of her true love is going to keep me
warm at night.”
Allura simply looked crushed and helpless.
“Give Romelle my regards as she moves on with her
life. Meanwhile, I’ll be getting on with mine. Elsewhere.” Sven hadn’t meant to
sound so bitter but it was how it came out nonetheless.
He sidestepped to get around Allura, and headed for
the exit without looking back. She was right about one thing – he really
couldn’t abandon Pollux or its people. But for now, he simply had to get out of
that palace and clear his head.
As the sun sank low in the sky, Sven turned toward
the east, the sound of bells and distant cheering carried to him on the wind.
In the distance, he saw the silhouette of the castle he once called home and
knew from whence the noise came.
It was done.
He stood frozen on the hillside with the wind
whipping through his shaggy, dark hair and fought the urge to imagine the joy
on Romelle’s face and at the same time not be bitter that it wasn’t him
beholding it firsthand as her new husband.
Things were as they were meant to be, he knew. Now
he had to come to choose the path to take for his own life. After a long
moment, a small smile touched his lips and he turned his back to the castle for
the last time. He walked on into the coming night, hoping Romelle peace, joy,
and happiness and was satisfied to know that at least for a while, she knew the
real Sven.
'Cause I know that you feel me somehow
You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be
And I don't want to go home right now
And all I can taste is this moment
And all I can breathe is your life
and sooner or later it's over
I just don't want to miss you tonight
And I don't want the world to see me
'Cause I don't think that they'd understand
When everything's made to be broken
I just want you to know who I am
-- Iris, Goo Goo Dolls
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