Sven woke slowly. He slowly became aware of the air on his face and the light shining in his eyes. It felt like his head was going to crack open. Vaguely, he remembered his training and wiggled his fingers to make sure there were no breaks. He was relieved to find that they worked, but when he tried to move his toes, he could not feel them. The first stirrings of panic grew in his stomach. He didn't recognize where he was. He did know that he had been, and was still, severely injured. The dark, dank walls covered with a greenish mold told him he wasn't in the Castle of Lions and he grasped at the idea that Keith had sent him somewhere else to recuperate, but judging from the strange equipment surrounding him, he knew he wasn't on an Alliance planet. It looked more like he was in a dungeon cell. He moved to get up, but immediately fell back down when a wave of nausea overcame him. He shut his eyes tightly, beads of sweat forming on his forehead and breathing hard.

"It's alright," a soft raspy voice whispered in his ear as his frightened thoughts raced through his head.

He turned his head and found himself looking at the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Her face was heart-shaped, her skin flawless and smooth. Her blonde hair was piled on the top of her head, strands falling to brush against her cheeks. But what caught his attention were the large blue eyes that looked at him with such kindness from a face that was too gaunt to be considered healthy. Her cheekbones stood out against the harsh white light overhead, and he could see a vein in her temple throb.

"Who are you?" he asked, his voice hoarse from nonuse.

"My name is Romelle," she answered with a slight hesitation. "I've been taking care of you."

"Vere am I?" he asked, fighting down his terror.

"You're on Planet Doom," she answered, her tone apologetic. "Do you remember anything that happened?"

"Not really..." His brow furrowed in concentration. "I just remember flying tru de air..."

"You stepped on a land mine," Romelle explained. "And you flew back into the castle. You were injured very badly."

"Vat about my friends...?"

"They are on Arus," she told him as gently as she could. "They are safe."

"Goot. Do dey know I am here?" he asked, an inkling of hope in his voice.

She put her hand over his as she said, "I'm sorry. They believe you are dead."

Sven closed his eyes and fought back the bile that rose in his throat. They thought he was dead. They wouldn't come back to look for him. He was trapped here right under the nose of a tyrant who was probably only keeping him alive so that he could be used to amusement. He didn't even know how long he'd been on Doom. With a shaking hand, he moved to touched his face. He had a full beard and his hair had grown.

"You've been in a coma for two months," she said to his unanswered question. "Zarkon wanted to keep you alive which is why I took care of you."

Sven's expression darkened at the mention of the evil King and the confirmation his suspicions. He tried to get up, but she placed a firm hand on his shoulder to stop him.

"Not yet," she said. "You're still not strong enough. You might fall and hurt yourself even more."

She took a cautious look around them and leaned close to him.

"I don't want them to know that you're well yet," she whispered. "I know Zarkon wants to do something with you, perhaps use you to get to your friends. You have to heal enough so that you can fight back when they do come for you."

He laid back and managed a small smile.

"You haf done so much for me," he said. "I vill be forever in your debt."

She smiled sadly, the expression in her sky-blue eyes speaking of a lifetime filled with pain and worry. He wanted to take her in his arms, but was afraid he would pass out if he tried. She put a hand on his forehead, the one touch a caress. On her planet, it was a gesture of great care, love at times, but he didn't know that.

"I'm not only doing this for you," she said quietly. "I'm doing it for me."

He nodded slightly. "Den I vill do as you ask."

She sat back down beside him and finished her dinner. He watched her eat and refused her offer of splitting the meal. He didn't think he could stomach it just yet. She promised to get him some food the next day, but it would be sparse. If she took too much, they may grow suspicious. She also warned him to close his eyes if he heard anyone coming, even if he thought it was her. Lotor checked on him once and a while or a guard did. She fixed his machines to make it look like his heart rate was still slow.

He watched her sure movements, and frowned slightly. She reminded him of Allura, though her face held a gentleness that Allura's didn't. He doubted that he was any weaker than the Princess because she had been through so much more, but something inside her stopped her from going in the direction Allura had. She had kept her heart where Allura's had frozen over. It made him want to protect and was convinced thoroughly that Lotor and Zarkon were heartless for hurting her.

"Do you tink you can contact my friends?" he asked tentatively, the thought of the Doom rulers sending shivers down his spine and made him want to get out of there as soon as possible.

She paused in what she was doing and looked at him. "I don't know. I can try, but if I get caught they will send someone else in here and they will find that you are awake."

He shook his head. "Nevermind. I vill take care of it ven I am up and about."

He yawned, exhaustion overtaking him. He was still very weak. She tucked his blankets in around him and he drifted off, her hand lingering on the edge of the thin covering. She had never had much contact with men that have been kind to her. Her father had been a cold evil man who gave his thirteen-year-old daughter up to Doom in exchange for protection that he never received. She had an older brother that followed in his father's footsteps and had been the one to deliver her personally. She had a younger that had been lost to her. Then after her family gave her up, she was Lotor's. Sven was the first man in her life to ever show her any respect and to the vulnerable young servant girl, this was enough to assure him her undying loyalty.

Zarkon watched Romelle leave the room from one of the monitors in his throne room. He had seen the Alliance officer awaken, but his face was still ashen from his brush with death. He was not yet strong enough for what Zarkon had planned for him. The King knew that Romelle would not breath a word about the pilot's condition, but she would be punished severely for her silence in due time.

He could not believe his good fortune in obtaining one of the members of the Voltron Force. Not only that, they had hit at the team's heart, that being the captain, Keith. He knew that Sven was a close friend and Hagar had informed them of the anguish Keith was going through. Zarkon had hoped that loss would make the commander careless, but if anything, it had made him an even more formidable foe. But he knew how to get to them. They had learned that Allura was now flying Blue Lion and Lotor had nearly thrown a party. It would make capturing the Princess easier with her flying around in the open. It would also break the captain when she was shot down from the sky. Blowing her up would be a good touch. It would bring flashbacks of how he had lost the first pilot in the first place.

How convenient, he mused. Losing both pilots of Blue Lion. They should just have a big "Kick Me" sign draped over the castle.

"Hagar!" he called.

The witch appeared, her ever present cat slinking about her ankles. She looked at him inquisitively.

"I want you to ready your spell," he said. "He's awake."

"As you wish, Sire. I will have it done in a fortnight."

"Can't you do it faster?" he demanded.

"If you want it too work well, I will need to take my time," she replied.

"Fine. Just make sure you don't fail me. I've had enough failures from Lotor to last me a lifetime."

The witch bowed and disappeared.