Nightmare

Edit: Hello! Thank you for checking out my collection of one-shots/series! These drabbles are not necessarily connected to each other unless explicitly said so. Only the first three chapters are short, the rest are all longer. Remember that these were all written before the release of Empire of Storms!

Thank you and I hope you enjoy!

You are mine, prince, mine.

Mine.

Dorian screamed as he fought the darkness. He couldn't believe it, to be trapped within himself once more. To be nothing more than a spectator in his own body. To know nothing other than pain and suffering.

It was so dark. He was suffocating.

This couldn't be happening again. How could the Valg have control over him again? How did he let this happen? He needed to remember his name, what was his name?

Nothing. Your name belongs to me.

You are nothing.

But there was something, he realized as despair overflowed within him, around him. Another name. Her name.

Manon.

Manon.

"Manon!"

He awoke in cold sweat, his breath ragged and coming out in thick clouds in front of him. His magic, Dorian realized, as his eyes adjusted to the room, the cold in his bones was only due to his magic. Desperately, he went for his neck to find there was no collar there, no prince in his mind. His body was his own. His thoughts were his own.

It was then that he noticed the warm hands on his face, turning him toward the right.

"Manon," he muttered as her fingers stroked his face, his neck.

"You had a nightmare," she said, those golden eyes reminding him that even if he were to be controlled again, she could find the man within him and if she couldn't, she would waste no time ending his life.

Dorian grabbed for her arms, keeping her in place, thirsty for touch, for feeling. "It was the same as before."

Manon tilted her head, her unbound white hair pooling over her bare chest and down unto her waist into the sheets. "It has been a while since the last time."

Yes, he remembered, since she had taken to sleeping in his room. Since she came here every night, and sometimes part of the day, to stay with him. It had gotten so frequent, Dorian had commissioned a stable house for Abraxos. She had clothes here too, ones he had ordered for her, but which she only wore when in his company.

Slowly, softly, Dorian pulled back his magic, giving time for the fireplace to warm the room once more. Equally careful, he raised his calloused hand to her face, stroking the skin of her cheek. He leaned forward and she met him half way. "I can make you forget," she said against the kiss, her hands wandering over his waist and down lower.

But he was already taking charge, his hands on her face, forcing her back against the pillows. "Please," he groaned and she smiled against his lips.

"Always."

I have taken to reading the Throne of Glass novels recently and was pleasantly surprised to see hints toward the Manorian couple. Let's see where the next book takes it.