The Lord and His Vassal

Chapter 3

Trigger warning: panic attack, when the scene is over, you'll see this print again.

*

*

*

Keith jerks up into a sitting position, a vile scream tearing out of his throat, cheeks tear-stained and tense. His wide eyes dart around him, more panic settling in his throat as he tries to make out his surroundings, as he realizes he can't see anything. That he doesn't know where he is.

He scrambles out of the bed, his legs tangled in the sheets, and feels himself fall, grunting as he crashes hard into the ground. His head strikes the wooden floorboards, his temple splitting and throbbing with pain. Fear causes him to hyperventilate, huddling into a corner, blood rushing through his ears and down the side of his face, heart pounding erratically in his chest. Fear causes tears to leak through his ducts, to trail down his already stained cheeks, some slipping into his mouth, the salty taste making him sputter and cough.

A high whine slips out his throat as he tries to breathe, tries to make sense of his surroundings, tries to figure out where he is--anything. He can feel the room collapsing around him, hyper-aware of the dull pain in his chest and the tightening of his throat. The sound of his breathing is muffled and far-off, and he can't tell if the lightheadedness and the throbbing he feels is from hitting his head when he fell off the bed or the lack of oxygen.

Keith can vaguely hear a sound, a door being thrown open and a blinding light appearing in front of him, getting closer and closer. He doesn't know where he is, who is holding the light, what they want--another blood-curdling scream tears from his throat before he can stop it. He curls into himself, wrapping his arms around his head, choking on a sob. The light gets bigger, closer, and whoever is holding it is running towards him.

"No, no! Stay away, get away from me!"

He hears the shouting of a woman's voice soon after his own, the loud thud thud thud of footsteps, and suddenly strong, large hands are grabbing his arms, wrenching them away from Keith's head, from his face. Keith throws them off, trying to push the hands away, trying to escape, but they push past his weaker arms, wrapping around his back and pulling him bodily away from the safety of the corner.

Keith lets out a strangled whimper as muffled voices reach his ears, and he squeezes his eyes shut and thrashes violently as the hands travel up to his face, gripping it tightly and forcing him to look straight ahead. Keith begs the person to stop, attempts to pry their hands away from his face, but they won't budge, staying steady and firm against his jaw, against his cheekbones. He can feel how easily those large hands could crush his jaw just from the grip. He isn't entirely sure in the darkness already surrounding him, but he feels as though his eyesight is fading at the edges, throat constricting tighter and tighter, refusing to let up, refusing to let him breathe.

There's only one voice now, the woman's voice gone, replaced with a masculine one, deep. It's steady, but slightly panicked and far-away sounding, calling out.

"--eith, Keith...ey...I'm--re, I'm right here...breathe."

Shiro.

Keith instantly recognizes the voice, and though he doesn't know exactly where he is, he's with Shiro, and that means he's safe.

It means he has to calm down.

He forces his throat open, taking in a shaky gasp of air, but the next breath in comes out as a wheeze. Keith coughs, the movement making his body convulse, and he grips Shiro's forearms, his nails digging into the skin. Keith tries to apologize, tries to let go, but his throat and hands are clamped, preventing him from either.