When they found him, he was suspended from the ceiling and covered in sweat and blood. He was dirty and in pain that they could never even imagine.

When they found him, he was barely alive, taking shallow breaths that matched his fading heartbeat. He was thin and dying and it was, in a way, their fault.

When they found him, he wasn't even recognizable. Only Allura saw who he truly was. Only she realized it was him, the one they had been searching for for almost an entire year.

Blue paladin.

Friend.

Teammate.

Prisoner.

Lance.

When they found him, they brought him back to the castle. They put him in a healing pod and hoped that he would be okay. Prayed that he would be alright.

When he woke up, he wasn't. He was healed physically, but the emotional scars were there to stay. He had gone through a lot of horrible things. He didn't want to talk at first, but he eventually agreed that he needed to talk to someone.

When he woke up, Keith and Shiro volunteered to help him. Keith because he cared about him and Shiro because he knew how it felt. So they met with him every day, any time he wanted.

When they met with him, he told them about the pain. The prince, the emperor, the torture. Every day brought a new story, a new memory, a new breakdown and a new bonding moment. Every day was slightly easier than the last, more bearable. Lance started to smile again, every once in a while.

When it came time for training, everyone went easy on him. He wasn't upset - it turned out that his PTSD was worse than Shiro's. Every attacker appeared as an armored soldier going in for the kill, and all that Lance oxild to was cower in fear.

When he was scared like this, his team, his family, would surround him, wrap him in hugs. Soothe him, calm his tears and panicked expressions. It was hard, but he would get up every day and fight. Grit his teeth, see past the illusion and fight.

When it became too much to handle, he would find Shiro and he would find Keith and he would ramble. He would tell them stories of his childhood, of the prison, of the Garrison. They would listen. They would always listen, ask questions, take real interest in him. It was long and hard, but Lance could feel himself healing.

When Lotor found him, it all fell apart. He couldn't move as the prince approached, fought and knocked out the other paladins and took him.

When the others woke up, Lance was gone.

When Lance woke up, he was terrified. He was in the same room that he had spent so much time in. He was again hung from the ceiling, gagged and sedated. Lotor was waiting for him when he woke up.

When Lotor saw he was awake, he laughed at him. He told him how pathetic he was, he had been captured twice, and so easily, too. He was nothing. He was just a plaything waiting to be broken. And Lotor was quite the destructive prince.

When Lance tried to scream, all he could muster was a muffled squeak. Lotor interpretted it perfectly, though. He laughed at him, mocked him. Look at how weak you are, he would say.

When Lotor finally left, Lance couldn't help but cry. He was back in this hellish place, back to the place that gave him nightmares and more severe anxiety than he'd ever had before. There didn't seem to be any escape.

When Lotor returned, he brought with him many druids. Lance's gag was removed and he was interrogated again. Like the first time, he gave no answers. Like the first time, Lotor hurt him more and more, telling him that if he answered, the pain would stop.

When he finally did answer, it was a feeble insult. Lotor glared at him, struck him, and everything went black.

When Lance came to, he was met with Lotor. The prince looked excited about something, a sight Lance had grown to hate. Anything Lotor was happy about was bad news.

When Lance asked what was going on, Lotor's response was "Execution." Lance didn't have to ask whose it was. The answer was obvious, deduced from Lotor's presence in his cell. The only reason he would be here would be to rub Lance's own death in his face.

When it was time later that day for his death, he closed his eyes and let the tears run down his face. It wasn't as if he was going to be able to cry later. Might as well let it all out now.

°•°

When they found him, he was suspended from the ceiling and covered in sweat and blood. He was barely even recognizable. Only Allura saw who he truly was.

Blue paladin.

Friend.

Teammate.

Prisoner.

Lance.

Corpse.