Stardust (A Voltron Fanfic)

Welcome to Your Worst Nightmare

Ten Years Later

Word Count: 922

"Move." The dark voice said in rough English.

My bare feet stumbled on the cool metal floor as I was shoved roughly from behind and I grit my teeth as the metal cuffs bit harder into my skin. "Shove off." I growled, and yelped when a hand connected with the side of my head, but I didn't black out.

My hands were restrained in front of me as our group shuffled toward the arena, the shouts of the dunk already reaching our ears. Looking around me, my eyes searched for any new fighters joining the group; Clark was there, his sensitive blue skin and feelers making up for his lack of sight, but no others that I recognized.

I winced as a guard suddenly smacked him upside the head as he fell behind the group, causing him to fall onto the hard floor.

I had to look forward as he was given his fifth beating this week, his screams echoing along the darkened hall. The Galra were so unforgiving when it came to prisoners, but it wasn't like any of the guards had a heart, most were metal robots clanking us to and from our prison cell, all of the real soldiers were used for more important things like overseeing cargo deliveries or maintaining "Emperor" Zarkon's safety, as if I would ever obey anything that bastard said.

Our group halted at the gates leading to the arena. The sound was deafening out there, full of drunk Gala ready to see a fight, and the few alien races that could afford the "luxury" of standing free to watch. A guard placed a hand on the electric scanner embedded into the wall and with a light click and a hiss, the doors opened. We were then herded in like sheep into the dank space and the doors closed behind us.

I felt a shiver run across my spine and I stretched slightly, feeling my weak muscles pop and stretch under my skin. It would be a few minutes before we would be required to go out there and fight whatever monstrous creation was created just for the fun of watching people die. I shuffled to the back of the small crowd to the metal doors waiting for them to open.

A few seconds later, Clark was shoved into the room, the doors, once again, shutting forcefully behind him. He fell to the floor immediately and I rushed to catch him under his armpits. "Moragna?" He mumbled, almost at a whisper, he feelers instead of hair tracing the lines of my face. I had long since gotten used to them touching me; it was just his own way of seeing.

"Moragna?" He repeated.

"Yeah, it's me." I said. Clark, like many of the others had gotten a habit of calling me by my Galra-given name meaning "bloody fighter", not like I cared, I would much rather be given a cringe worthy name than watching innocent beings die just for sick Galra entertainment.

I licked my thumb and wiped the green-blue blood leaking from Clark's now split lip. But beside that and a black eye, he looked okay.

Reading my thoughts, Clark gave a lung-breaking cough and raised his right arm. Under it stood a big, nasty gash running vertical along his side.

And there wasn't a doubt about that it had come slowly.

I sucked in air through my teeth, it wasn't the blood that got me, or the fact that the gash looked painful or deep. It was the fact that the Galra thought that it was just fine to beat someone to the ground, only to pick them back up and have them fight a ten-ton monster just for entertainment. I should know, I'd seen it happen, what felt like a billion times, and sometimes it wasn't always another person that I'd have to see almost die.

"It is not that that bad." Clark said, trying to hide the fact that it hurt him with every inhale.

"Yeah, and I'm the lost princess of Altea." I said sarcastically, tearing off a strip of my already shredded shirt with my teeth and wadding it, I placed on the gash and applied pressure, earning myself a grunt of pain from Clark.

A soldier walked by us, stopping only a few feet away, I could see his eyes trained on us out of the corner of his eye.

"Are you going to be able to fight with this if they choose you?" I whispered making sure to keep my breath low, soldiers didn't like it when prisoners talk out of their cells, another lesson I learned the hard way.

"It's either that or imminent death," he said, gasping, his eyes widening in pain as I added a little more pressure to the wound.  He sucked in a breath. "What do you think I would choose?"

"Fair enough." I whispered back to him.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" We both quieted when we heard the announcer's gruff voice come over the speakers stationed at the far corner of the cell. I squinted at the sudden light as one of the massive walls of the room raised up to reveal the fighting arena. "We have all had a pleasant week of fighting, don't you think?"

The crowd cheered in response.

"Well, tonight, we've brought back a little treat."

That didn't sound good. I looked back out at the empty arena, waiting for him to finish.

"Tonight we are going to let you choose the contestant and battle to the death!"

...

Any spelling, grammar, punctuation errors, etc,please let me know and I will fix it as soon as I can, I was too lazy to addthat to the a/n at the beginning of the story.