This fic is going to be a collection of one-shots that i have written in my phone and does contain elements of other writers' headcanons. I do not have any rights or ownership to Voltron and the only thing I do own is Ezra. Thank You.

Before the accident, Ezra had been the head officer of Engineering on board her commander's ship, having always had a knack for fixing and making things. Her talent, however, was not just limited to machines or personal projects, but to people as well.

The Gladiatorial Rings were a part of Galran life; a tradition and a way to satiate the instinctual need for violence in each person. It was entertainment and a portion of revenue that, while not significant, couldn't be ignored. It also brought other species into closer proximity to the hubs of the Empire. A smart ploy for commerce that even Ezra, who hated the games, had to admire. Ten thousand years of an adamantium strong empire didn't crumble with change, however. Flexibility was a must even with the mentality of aggression that her Emperor enforced. The rings were entertainment, yes, but also a method of weeding out the most resilient and clever of the prisoners for the purpose of putting them to work for the empire or for the Druids to have their fun with them.

Haggar, especially, loved to create weapons from Champions she favored.

This time, however, the reigning competitor was a well-known engineer. An engineer with extreme anger issues who was to be put to death for assaulting their guard, but well known for their potential in the field. They were an Ikyak, a very quiet species who preferred to blend into their surroundings and watch as life change and blossomed and withered away around them. They had, on average, six eyes per person and an impressive set of heavy horns atop a broad, thick neck and long, slim body. Usually, they were known as gentle giants and were favored by the upper rings of Galran society as protectors for cubs as an Ikyak's sense of parental aggression nearly rivaled a Galra's. And, it was unlikely anyone would be foolish enough to goad one of the giant's into physical altercation.

Obviously, this was untrue of whoever decided to goad this runt of an Ikyak, and, of course, the heckler was a Galran guard which the smaller male then attacked and nearly gutted resulting in the younger Ikyak's imprisonment and induction into the gladiatorial rings.

What a wild ride.

Ezra's commander thought that the head engineer of his ship could make something of the runt. The thought of a protégé made her slightly nervous, but Ezra knew she was up to the task. She just didn't quite account for the Ikyak's hatred of all Galra. It was understandable, really. Something Ezra couldn't relate to but could acknowledge and comprehend. It didn't mean she tolerated outright insubordinate behavior, however. Ezra was also known for her patience, a trait no doubt learned from a lonely childhood with parents who favored discipline over love, at times.

She'd never blamed her family for their outlook, really. After serving in the military as long as she had, she could see where they were coming from. That didn't mean she would give the same semi-cold treatment to her own cubs if she ever had any. Or the people around her.

After weeks of gentle prodding and kind mentorship, Ezra finally learned the Ikyak's name.

Natea.

What a wonderful name.

Ezra really had cared for the kid, feeling like they were the obstinate brother they never had or a difficult child. She took the utmost pride in their accomplishments, rewarding them for every emotional breakthrough with whatever they wanted at the time, and always listened to their problems. She sparred with them often, and taught them how to really defend themselves from violence or verbal heckling. She could see the person he could grow up to be, and was satisfied.

Natea had become family to Ezra in the blackest recesses of space the exploratory ship they were on would travel. She had known that they still hated the Empire, still hated Galra, but she had really thought that perhaps they had cared for her as family as well.

She had been wrong.

After the accident, Ezra had learned her intuition had failed her. She trusted Natea, had refused to listen to the warnings of her comrade that he was still too volatile, she let him make a mile out of an inch, she was letting her deep compassion get in the way of her instincts.

Originally, she had thanked the universe that Natea hadn't been there. He had sat by her bedside as she recovered with his horned head in his hands. Even then, she had noted proudly that he was growing up to be strong and as tall as the average Ikyak could be. His horns curled elegantly, but were strong enough to bulldoze a grown Galra. He had grown a wonderful mane from the scraggly, patchy hairs he'd had. Natea had gained much more mass and was no longer the scrawny kid that she'd welcomed into her life not three yearly cycles ago. Ezra remembered thinking that if she were to die in the hospice bed, that she would have gladly done so knowing that she had raised such a strong individual in mind and body.

After the explosion in main engineering, and as soon as Ezra was able to leave intensive care, she wheeled herself down to the site to assess the damage and find the cause after Natea had fallen asleep again at her bedside. The absence of legs was ignored and, at this time, Ezra was too doped up to feel the real and phantom pains of her still healing body.

The room was closed off, but her rank allowed her to access the area with ease, even with her current crippled state.

What she found more than upset her. The wires had been shredded, important subroutines outright deleted, the coolant gel had been replaced with an explosive element with the same viscosity. They had been sabotaged. She had been ruined. She was absolutely livid and in her rage she realized she couldn't be trusted with herself at the moment. She'd never felt such strong emotion take over her body like that; blood rushed violently in her ears, her mutilated body shook, angry tears gathered at the corners of her eyes. A scream was building in her throat. Her fangs cut deeply into her lower lip in her attempt to keep her bellows of rage under check. She ignored the sting and rush of sticky purple blood as thoughts raced through her mind.

How could someone do this? How could a Galra do something so despicable to their own people?!

This time, Ezra really did scream. She threw back her head and roared.

Thankfully, the rooms were soundproof, even with the extensive damage to the infrastructure. She was afraid to see anything more, afraid she would find worse things.

She remembered the difficulty the security teams had in opening the doors, supposing they must have been jammed by the intense heat. She agreed because it was possible if the heat was enough to melt the sensitive wiring. Ezra wondered now if the person who had caused the fire had locked the door, intending to trap the entire night shift engineering team locked inside with no escape.

They had succeeded. She was the only survivor.

Ezra forced herself to calm. It would not do for the Captain to see her so unraveled. She might have been seriously injured, but her temperament had not suffered quite yet. She needed her sanity.

The investigation was extensive and lasted well over seven lunar cycles.

In that time, Natea had been given command over engineering as Ezra was sent away for what was probably the last time. Her heart had nearly bursted with pride then that the intensely homogeneous culture of the Empire had accepted her Natea as a superior officer aboard a well-known flagship. Her eyes had grown misty when the Captain told her, and thanked him so much for believing in the skill of the boy she had raised as a dutiful officer. However, she couldn't come back to duty, not with missing limbs. It was a tearful goodbye, Natea not saying a word and not meeting her eye. Ezra had supposed he was simply embarrassed by his own tears.

She told him it was okay to cry, and he really had broken down then, clutching her waist as she sat slumped in her chair, her running her wickedly clawed fingers through his mane and rubbing the bases of his horns.

After she left and had settled into her deep depression at her family home in the Main system, Natea had been quietly arrested without public knowledge.

And, as Ezra had been honorably discharged, she had been out of the loop. When the letters he had sent to her every week had stopped abruptly, she figured he had become too busy to keep up their correspondence. She didn't blame him, she had done that a few times as well when she was just starting out as a senior officer before she had gotten used to the work load.

The Empire would have told her of his death, most definitely, so she didn't worry.

Not a few weeks after she had been taken in by Haggar for her conditioning and prosthetics did she see him again. Her son, whom she had remembered fondly, was in heavy chains. She would have asked why if it hadn't clicked so suddenly in her mind. She felt her heart drop into her gut and her mind buzz violently.

Betrayal and shock made her tremble, the phantom agony of her legs suddenly came back full force and this time, she couldn't compose herself in front of an audience. She hadn't been fitted with legs yet, but if her waist hadn't been strapped to her wheelchair, she was sure she would have lunged at him.

She wasn't sure what she would have done after that, but did recall the shame in his many eyes. She ignored it and raged at him, her chair rattling with the violent motions of her body.

"How could you do something like that!? I trusted you, I cared for you, and you tried to kill me!" She lunged again, only to be snapped back into the seat of her chair by the elastic band around her waist, "I loved you as a son! I loved you as a son-!" She choked on her next sentence and sobbed, her face contorting painfully as she screwed her eyes shut, her lips stretched flat against her sharp teeth.

Haggar watched from the shadows, an indiscernible look in her eyes. Natea wouldn't look up. She took him by the horns and forced him to look at the woman that had believed so greatly in him, that had trusted him, had cared for him.

He couldn't speak. Couldn't bring himself to after his old mentor's display of emotion.

She got no explanation from him that day.

Then, Haggar remade her.

Ezra's last display of strength and loyalty that would allow her into her new line of duty was to meet her former ward in the Gladiatorial ring.

He pleaded with her, begged her to not do this. He didn't want to hurt her and it costed him his life. He saw the cold of her expression, and yet still couldn't fight back. Couldn't fight someone he had secretly called mother. Couldn't fight because of the heavy guilt and shame weighing down his heart.

Ezra was empty as she looked down at the cooling body of someone she had loved so deeply. He had lost most of his fat after his reintroduction into the gladiator life, leaving lean muscle behind. Deep scars cut into his frame. He's lost an eye or two from what she could tell from the thickly spraying blood of his throat, neon blue creating arcs of electricity from the deep laceration of his artery.

But, she did not cry with the swelling emotion in her chest. Her emperor and caregiver were watching her performance.

She would not disappoint.

Welcome and Hello! I wrote this at a wild time and wasn't sure if i wanted to post it but I'm happy I did! Thanks to an anonymous reviewer, I became aware that I hadn't put any character tags lmao thanks btw. There will be another chapter and it will probably be soon, but I'm just not sure with this still being the holidays. Thank you for stopping by!