This was bad. Really bad.

He huffed and took a deep breath, wincing at the pain it caused. Okay, injured ribs, broken legs, dislocated arms. Hanging from chains between two pillars twenty feet off the ground in the middle of an arena full of religious nutjobs with a thing for sacrificing half breeds. No back up, no way of calling for any and no idea where he was.

Which meant he was alone with no way out of this mess.

To think that after everything – Zarkon, the Blade, Voltron – he was going to die at the hands of demented alien cultists was just . . . it sucked. Quiznak, this whole mess royally sucked.

The alien standing on the dais beneath him suddenly turned with a shout, making his gaudy red robes swirl around him, and pointed what looked like a scythe up a him. Keith bit back a cry as the chains holding him suddenly jerked, shooting a burst of pain through his shoulders, and started to lower him slowly. Whatever Big Red had shouted was taken up the crowd as a chant that was quickly taking on a fever pitch that filled his head with white noise and panic. His vision tunneled, locking on the blade extended towards him.

Please, no.

The leader raised the scythe as he came within reach.


He looked up into the yellow eyes of the alien as the chains dragged him into a kneeling position.


he squeezed his eyes shut as it swung for his neck.


Keith eyes snapped open at the sudden rush of heat across his chest. He stared in shock at the scythe flipping end over end across the arena before embedding it self in a wall. A rapid series of of blaster short scored the floor around him, making the cultists scatter with panicked cries. The sound of jet-packs made his eyes snap up and his mouth fell open in shock at the white armored figures dropping to the arena floor.

Very familiar figures.

"We got this!" Pidge shouted – Pidge! – as she attacked a group of cultists, lassoing them with her bayard and throwing them around like ragdolls "Get him!"

He caught a streak of purple-pink out of the corner of his eye and suddenly Shiro was there, leaping up on the dais and attacking the red robed figures like a force of nature. Spinning, kicking, ducking and striking, knocking the cultists off the dais and out of his way.

"Keith!" The Black Paladin dropped to his knees in front of him, a look of panicked fear on his face as the light from his arm fading as he took the younger man's face in his hands. Dark eyes flicked over him, taking in his injuries and the shredded remains of his uniform, and his jaw tightened with rage "Don't worry. We'll have you out of here in no time." he said, somehow managing a soothing tone as removed his hands, Galra arm lighting back up as he turned his attention the chains holding the younger man in place.

"Shiro? You're here?" Keith breathed out in a daze, though he wasn't sure is it was from pain or shock. He stared up at the older man with wide eyes, not caring that he was starting to tear up "You came for me?"

Shiro paused to stare down at him through his fringe with a look that clearly said he couldn't believe he just asked that "Of course we did, Keith." he flashed him a gentle smile "We'd always come for you, kid."