Nighttime Terrors

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Though Keith appreciated the tight grip, the warmth Lance gave off, he fell asleep with the same hurt expression on his face. Lance was gonna get hurt and it would be his fault. His dream were plagued with the same ideas, though they made less sense, were just carried by that paralysing fear of losing what he'd just found. Of losing Lance. 

He groaned in his sleep and clenched his fingers around the boy's shirt, scrunging up his face. He was back in the Castle, the sun bathing the throne room in a golden light through the glass dome in the ceiling. But the gold seemed unnatural, superficial. It wasn't real. 

A heavy fabric was weighing him down, and the Prince stumbled a few paces back when he realised what he was wearing. The red and golden patterns marked his wedding clothes. No, not yet. Please, no. 

But an invisible force pushed him forward, all the way to the front of the room, through so many people. Their blank faces didn't do anything to stop this, no matter how much he struggled and screamed. Why didn't they help? And there was Lotor, that evil smirk even wider than usual, like it would split his face in two. Please... 

But next moment, the ceremony had passed and the officiater, a faceless copy of his father, was binding his and Lotor's hands together with that dreaded sash, symbolic for binding their lives together. No. Where had the weeks gone? He was supposed to have time before the wedding, time to prepare. Where was Lance?

And then it was just him and Lotor, alone in his room. The man tried to kiss him. Hell no, was all Keith thought, and he turned around to run away. The same golden thread emblazened sash closed around his throat from behind. No, he wasn't supposed to die here. Lance and he were gonna get out. Where was Lance? 

Keith rolled over in his sleep, off the hunter's chest and moaned into nothingness, his eyes closed tight. He couldn't breath. "Lance," he panted, nearly inaudible. "Lance, please. Please save me." A scream erupted from his throat, clawing wildly at where he felt the fabric around him, preventing him from breathing. "Don't let him.. Lance!"

In the middle of his own dream any trace of paradise vanished, burst by a distressed voice calling his name. Lance shot his eyes open, startled, and his eyes widened at the scene. 

By the words that had escaped the prince's mouth he could guess what the nightmare was about and hope for the worst. Oh no. 

He sat, hurried to turn him around and lift his upper body in his arms, taking his wrists before he hurt himself.

"Keith," he called loud and firmly. He knew all about nightmares, and knew if he tried to shake him or wake him up in any violent way, it could cause him an emotional shock. 

"Keith, listen to me, you're dreaming and it's time to wake up, my love." The prince struggled, tried to push him away, but  Lance didn't flinch, no matter how much it hurt to see his scared, pained expression, he continued to hold his shaking body. 

"Baby, I'm here, I'm here..." he cooed softly close to him, gently swaying him to calm him down and bring him back to reality in the most soothing way possible.

Keith hit around him with everything he had, desperate to fight Lotor off. But the bloodred sash had soon been replaced with his father's terrifyingly strong hands, lifting him into the air. 

"Please," he croaked, tears starting to stain his cheeks. Air, please. He wanted to claw at the thing obstructing his breathing, get it off, but his hands were held down by someone incredibly determined. He was fainting, the bright light of the room fading away before his eyes, all he could see was the disappointment on his father's face, and then... Something else. 

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