The Blood on Her Hands

The Arena

Shiro groaned, blinking as sounds and lights attacked his senses. He pushed himself up, feeling the gritty sand slip through his fingers.

Sand.

Suddenly, he knew where he was. He quickly got to his feet, wincing as memories assaulted him.

Two Years Ago-

He felt helpless, watching the boy being pushed forward. Matt couldn't go into the arena. He would die, and it would be all his fault. Shiro thrashed, breaking free from his guards. He rushes Matt, pushing him to the ground. He sliced Matt's cheek as to prove his eagerness to fight. Staring his best friend in the eye, he whispered one last sentence.

"Find your Father. Take care of him."

He was shoved towards the arena as Matt looked on with fearful eyes. He offered one last smile to his friend before the cage closed around him. Shiro wasn't scared, though. As long as Matt made it out alive, he'd be fine. Turning to face the current Champion, Shiro smirked. Preparing his hand, he ran, only one thought on his mind.

Survive.

Shiro pushed the memories away as he faced the crowd of cheering aliens. Glaring at them, he remembered the more pressing matter. His friends.

Searching for them, he quickly realized that he's the only person- or alien- in the arena.

"HELLO folks! Today, we have a new contender! Well, new. You should recognize him, as this human had quite the special title here. He's here, and he's fighting..."

"OUR OLD CHAMPION, THE BLACK PALADIN!"

The cheering became even louder, mixed in with insults and jeers. Shiro stood tall, facing the crowds, slightly confused.

He said 'old' champion. Has someone else taken the spot?

"Yes, today the Black Paladin will be fighting! Shall our champion take back her position? Or will she die at the Black Paladins' hands?

Shiro frowned. So there was another Champion. He paced the arena grounds, pounding on the walls. As his hands came in contact with the barrier, however, electricity coursed through his body. He pulled back, checking for any serious damage. That's when he noticed his hand.

His Galra prosthetic had been transformed, a large blade where his fingers used to be. It was thin but slightly dull, with the telltale marks of quintessence running through it, as the edges shone purple. He gently slashed at the air, testing its durability.

"It seems he's ready to fight, folks! First up- we have a rebel prisoner who has taken over the fights! She wins, but shall she win this one? We have... TE-OSH!"

Shiro watched grimly as a struggling alien was led out. It had an angular face, with large feathery ears. It appeared to be female.

The guards undid her chains, threatening her with shock-rods so she wouldn't lash out. Soon enough, she was facing him, as free as she would get, fists clenched in unbridled anger. It quickly disappeared though, as she recognized him.

"The Black Paladin." She spoke softly, her eyes now wide with respect and awe. They quickly darken as she remembered where they are, and what they're supposed to do.

Internally, Shiro was having a panic attack. He refused to kill another innocent alien. Even when he was there before, they had only made him fight Galra, not prisoners of war.

"Well, fight! We don't have all day!" The announcer complained, accompanied with the boo's of the audience.

Te-Osh strode forward, grabbing a sword that was laid on the sand. There were a couple scattered about, most broken up and bloody. As she approached him, Shiro got into a defensive stance. While he was not willing to kill the alien directly, he would still protect himself.

He realized that attacking was not the aliens' purpose as she kneeled down before him, her sword held out in her hands. Shiro stayed in his stance, stunned by what was happening. The alien was offering her sword to him, but that could only mean...

He quickly backed away, shaking his head. Te-Osh stood once more, looking towards him with a carefully calculated gaze. She slowly raised her blade to her head, positioning it across the back of her neck, which would give her a fast, painless death.

"I won't kill you, and from your expression, you can't kill me either. Save the universe, Paladin. Fight on." She nodded once more before neatly slicing into her neck, falling not seconds later. Shiro could only stare in horror as the crowd voiced their displeasure.

The fights continued on like that, some recognizing the Paladin of Voltron and committing suicide while others were killed accidentally in defense.

At the end, Shiro was panting, minor cuts and scrapes covering his body. Blood covers the sandy floor, along with broken blades and bodies. Shiro tried to not see them, but as more prisoners are brought out, the harder it is to pretend that the blood isn't there.

Finally, he couldn't see any more prisoners, no more aliens dressed in purple rags and hand-cuffs. The crowd had stopped cursing his name varga's ago; now, they were cheering for him. Which was sick and horrible.

The announcer waved his hands, silencing the spectators. "It seems that no one has caused the fall of the head of Voltron yet, which is such a pity." He said, his voice dripping with contempt. "Right now, though, it seems we have one choice. DOES ANYONE WANT TO TAKE ON THE BLACK PALADIN, THE OLD CHAMPION, THE HEAD OF VOLTRON?!"

Silence immediately overtook the arena. Not a single voice spoke up, no one brave enough to face him. Shiro nearly sighed in relief. He refused to fight another alien, Galra or not.

Suddenly, a quiet yet commanding voice rang through the stands. "I will."