Updating the day after my last update? I'm so proud of myself! This chapter was kinda harrowing to write, but I loved it. I got so into writing at one point that it took me a good few minutes to calm down when I had to come away.
Finally. Finally, they were done. It was humiliating that glamouring a damn building had taken most of the day, stretching into the evening. Ogron had been losing strength and motivation, right up until the buzz of fairy magic appearing in the city had set him on edge and managed to kick his efforts into high gear. He'd been moving like a maniac, bespelling everything in sight out of blind desperation to escape Neruman's punishment, worrying Gantlos and Anagan even further, the latter of whom couldn't seem to decide whether to be mad at him for yelling, or just give him a hug. Ogron prayed he'd stick with mad, because if Anagan hugged him, there would be no force in the dimension capable of keeping him from bursting into tears and sobbing into him. And that…that wasn't ideal, despite how incredibly appealing it sounded.
'Ogron…' Gantlos started, putting a hand on Ogron's shoulder as the frazzled wizard glanced around for any last details that might have been left unfinished. 'Ogron, we got it. Relax.'
Ogron forced himself to take a deep breath, trying to ground himself in the moment. They were done. All done. He was trembling, but he couldn't tell if it was from exhaustion or the beginnings of a nervous breakdown. Or both. Oh, who was he kidding, it was both.
'C'mon, sit down.' Gantlos guided him to what was in fact a pile of crates, but had been very convincingly glamoured to look like a booth. It turned out it still felt like a pile of crates, but Ogron was too exhausted to care. He just wanted to go home, if he could even call the warehouse that. Home had always been where his friends were, but now their presence was a source of guilt and stress as he desperately tried to sort through everything and decide what he was supposed to do.
He put his head in his hands, rubbing his temples in a futile attempt to ease the stress-induced pressure pounding at his skull.
'Migraine?' Anagan asked sympathetically, and Ogron nodded weakly.
'When can we go home?' he asked, his voice small and exhausted. He just wanted to sleep…
'I think we just need to get the creatures in position, then we at least need to get out of here,' Gantlos reasoned. 'If Neruman doesn't want us in this fight, we need to make sure the Winx don't drag us into it.'
Ogron nodded, somewhat wishing he hadn't sat down, as sitting just meant that he had to force himself back up again, his body at a loss for why he was making it get up and do things when it was quite explicitly telling him that it was most certainly not in the mood.
'Okay, well, I guess we just…call them back?' He had no idea how one commanded a horde of soldiers; he'd never been that kind of villain. He had his team, he knew their strengths and weaknesses, and he could handle them just fine. Wrangling an army was something he lacked experience in.
Nevertheless, he called out, 'We've finished the illusions! You can come back!'
The creatures lumbered back in, looking quite impressed with the illusions. Once they had gathered around, Ogron spoke. 'Okay. I assume Balazar already gave you Neruman's plan, but just to be certain, let me make this perfectly clear. The Winx will come in, and you must act as though you are human. Do not get caught in conversation, as that could trip you up. I've set the spell to break as soon as one of you makes the move to attack, but, as with most illusions summoned with dark magic, it'll break if they realise it's not real, so be careful. Don't do anything to tip them off until it's far too late.' Ogron felt some of the tension not quite lift, but ease back a little as he fell into the comfortable role of explaining a plan. He knew what he was doing here. He knew the strategy. He knew the steps. He was in control.
'Wait until the Winx are at the centre of the room, as far as possible from an exit. Then you attack, and kill them.' He thought of what Neruman was capable of and swallowed nervously. 'Do not fail. It will not end well if you do.'
'Do not presume to threaten my minions, Ogron…'
As he heard the rasping voice, Ogron's entire body froze up. No, no, no…he couldn't be using his shadow! He couldn't let Gantlos and Anagan see… He blinked, seeing his shadow resting at his feet, unmoving as though to say 'What are you trembling for, drama king?'
Seeing Gantlos and Anagan's gazes fixed on a point behind him, he turned as well, stepping back as he saw Neruman's cruel smile stretched across the shadow of one of the creatures. Right…Gantlos and Anagan were the only ones here without an enchanted shadow. Neruman was using another shadow.
Recalling Neruman's words, Ogron had to bite his tongue. That hadn't been a threat, but a warning. He knew how far Neruman could go just for his own amusement; he was yet to see what befell someone for a failure, especially one Neruman saw as a beast, expendable and mindless. But he made himself hold his tongue, knowing that Neruman wouldn't hesitate to demonstrate just how correct Ogron was in thinking him a sadist if he spoke up.
'You are in no position to speak of consequences,' Neruman continued, caressing one of his minions as though they were a house pet. 'I shall dole out punishment if my creatures fail. You know it shall be slow and merciless, don't you…?' he purred, his eyes flicking to Ogron, telling the redhead that this message was just as much for him as it was for the horde.
'Yes, my Lord,' intoned the creature, dropping to its knees, prostrate in the same bow Ogron had had carved into his muscles.
'You see?' Neruman smirked round at Ogron. 'Mindless slaves that they are, they know who will praise or punish. I believe you know the same?' The gleam in Neruman's eyes teased fearful sweat from Ogron's brow, and it was all he could do to clench his fists to keep the shaking under control.
'I…of course, my Lord.'
Gantlos and Anagan still looked surprised by how utterly submissive Ogron was, how meek and shattered his voice sounded. It had surprised Ogron too, at first, but now he just spoke in whatever way would incite the least attention, the least time spent as a puppet, a plaything, a toy.
'Good…glad to know I've finally made you aware of your place. At my feet.'
Ogron saw Gantlos flinch out of the corner of his eye, his friend shooting him a worried look. He was right to be concerned. Before Omega, Ogron would have hit Neruman with all the power he could summon for disrespecting him like this. But now…
Neruman's eyes flicked to the creature, still on its knees, and then to Ogron, his gaze expectant. Ogron knew what he wanted. He knew. He just…he couldn't stand kneeling to Neruman in front of his friends. Couldn't stand taking a sledgehammer to what little scraps remained of his dignity.
Neruman's gaze moved to Ogron's shadow, and Ogron's heart raced. The inky outline began to twitch, and Ogron started to feel his muscles straining to move with it. No!
'Yes…my Lord…' he whispered, trembling as he bent low, sinking to his knees and bowing his head, his heart aching as he pictured the expressions of shock Gantlos and Anagan were sporting.
'You understand?' Neruman prompted. 'You understand your place?'
'My place…' Ogron swallowed hard, trying to remember this moment. The last time he had any semblance of dignity in front of his friends. 'My place…is at your feet, Lord Neruman.' He felt bile rise in his throat at the words, but he stayed, as rigid as when his shadow had taken the reins, staring at the floor as he blinked back tears at having the last shreds of his pride ripped from him to fuel the sadistic little smirk on Neruman's spectral lips.
'Good…' Neruman purred. 'I think you can get up now. Up, up!'
Ogron rose, steadfastly avoiding looking Gantlos or Anagan in the eye, dodging every worried glance sent his way. Thoughts of the conversation that would ensue when they got back rushed through his mind, and he just felt like crying.
'Well then…' Neruman took in the glamoured building. 'Passable job, actually. You're a competent little slave, aren't you? You do far better when you take orders than when you give them.' The words would have been a dagger to his heart, were it not for the fact that he'd been stabbed with so many metaphorical daggers in the last week that there was simply no heart left to stab. 'But I do think the Winx might notice the slavering beasts frequenting a trendy club...?'
'We…we were just about to activate the glamours,' Ogron mumbled, staring at the ground.
'And you chose to leave it until the Winx were on their way over to do that because…?'
Ogron stiffened at the revelation the Winx were coming. They were near them. They could fight them. Beat them. Hurl them back into that frozen hell.
His breathing shallow as he tried to suppress those thoughts, he replied, 'Our magic was weak…we couldn't siphon too much to keep up the illusions when we didn't need them.'
'Well, that would be a very intelligent sentiment if what you needed was of any relevance…' Neruman breathed. 'Next time, when you create an illusion, cut no corners.'
'Understood, my Lord.'
'Well, chop chop!' Neruman clapped his shadowy hands, sound inexplicably emanating from the movement. 'The Winx are a few streets away, and this place needs to be convincing! Activate your spells.'
Ogron was strongest when he converged his magic with Gantlos and Anagan. When they were a Circle. But now, despite needing all the help he could get just to stay on his feet, he summoned his magic alone, clenching his fists and activating the markings his spell had burned into the horde.
Gantlos and Anagan, watching in dumbfounded, worried silence, did likewise, and Neruman nodded approvingly as his monsters became human in appearance, looking exactly like the sorts that would frequent such an establishment.
Ogron's hands instinctively twitched to reach for something to hold onto as his legs swayed underneath him from the effort it had taken to activate his spells, but he was alone in the centre of the floor. He had no choice but to will himself to remain upright, or else wind up on the floor, where he'd likely be dragged up by his shadow.
'Hm…' Neruman seemed satisfied. 'Good. Provided they present me with seven dead fairies later, I doubt I shall see you again tonight. If not…' He smirked, his words pointed and aimed at Ogron. 'Well, why ruin that surprise? Now, run along home.' He slipped back into the shadow of what was now a woman in a red dress, leaving Ogron to try and remember how to breathe.
'Ogron…' Gantlos started. Ogron knew what was coming. The conversation they were about to have. And he couldn't have it. Couldn't force words out past the lump in his throat.
Unable to think of any other course of action, his panic yanked the reins away from his exhaustion, guiding his legs to stride towards the back door. He ignored the swaying, ignored the migraine, ignored how many things he almost crashed into, ignored everything but the promise of a way out.
'Ogron!' He heard his friends follow him, but didn't reply. His steps quickened, until his exhausted body was practically running. He staggered back into the old warehouse, his breaths coming in ragged, painful gasps as his chest heaved with exertion and the pull of sobs.
'Ogron!' Anagan caught his wrist, looking at him with pained concern. 'Ogron, stop. You're shaking.'
Ogron pulled his wrist away, backing up. He couldn't do this…couldn't tell them. What did he say? What did he do? Set them free? He had to set them free. Set them free…and suffer alone, for the rest of his life. No! No, he couldn't! He couldn't… Please, no…
His lip trembled as Gantlos approached him cautiously, holding out a hand, extending the promise of embrace and security. Of comfort. Of love. Ogron wanted to take it, more than anything, but he couldn't break. He had to stay together.
'Ogron…Ogron, you're scaring me…' Gantlos murmured. 'Please, tell us what's going on. Because that…back there? Bowing to him? Saying your place was at his feet? That isn't like you. That isn't the Ogron I know.'
This week had been as though people had been using their words to play whack-a-mole with Ogron's nerves, hitting them time and time again, and this strike, though well-intended, was brutal. All it served to do was remind Ogron how utterly, utterly broken he was. How much Neruman had broken him. How much he'd allowed himself to be broken.
'Well maybe the Ogron you know got frozen in hell and shattered with the ice!' Ogron couldn't help the scream his voice rose to. He had to scream. Had to yell. To rip his vocal chords apart and release some of the pain he was holding inside before it destroyed him.
Gantlos's eyes widened at the fever-pitch of Ogron's voice, but he didn't back away. 'Ogron, we're worried about you! Whatever's going on, whatever's making you act like this, act like Neruman's pawn…'
'I am Neruman's pawn!' Ogron screamed, his voice practically shattering. 'I'm his slave! I'm not strong anymore, I'm just his weak little servant!'
'Ogron, that's not true…' Anagan tried, his voice soft and calm, inviting Ogron to just stop and break.
'Yes…' Ogron choked out. 'Yes, it is.'
Tears brimming in his eyes, he spun around, desperate to get away, away from this conversation, but Gantlos caught his arm.
'Ogron, stop-'
'JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!' Ogron had never spoken to Gantlos or Anagan like that before. Never unleashed a raw, primal scream of rage and heartache like that upon anybody. But he couldn't fight through the storm of his emotions to reach the point of caring.
Gantlos and Anagan were speaking, but it was all just incoherent mumbling. Ignoring the haze of concern and confusion, Ogron turned and bolted, staggering away into the twilight. He shook off whichever of his friends it was that tried to stop him, dragging himself away as fast as his body could manage.
When he'd finally gone so far across the industrial estate that his legs felt like cooked noodles and loudly pronounced that they refused to hold him up for one more step, he let out a raw, pained scream of hurt and rage, whipping around and slamming his fist into a shipping container. He felt blood trickle down his knuckles, and a sharp throb that told him he'd probably broken something, but the pain seemed ethereal and hazy, lost in the mess of rage and misery that had become his mind.
Slave…failure…servant…made to take orders…not give them…pathetic…incompetent…slave…slave…slave…
'No…' he whispered, his second scream trailing away to a broken breath. 'No…no…no…' He was barely aware as he sunk to the ground, his fingers knotting into his hair as he tried to keep breathing. 'No…' He shook his head, whimpering with overwhelming anguish, barely able to draw air into his lungs.
He didn't know how long he stayed there, falling deeper and deeper into a twisted sinkhole of despair, ceasing his futile attempts to cling on to reality. He didn't want to be in reality. Reality hurt. Everything hurt…
'You failed.' For a minute, Ogron thought the voice was but one of the many making up the maelstrom tearing through his mind, and he just let it wash over him. It was only when he felt himself hit the ground, slammed into it by his own muscles, that he realised that wasn't the case.
He blinked open hazy, disconnected eyes, fear rising to the forefront of his many swirling emotions as he saw the cold fury in the leering face torn across his shadow.
'W-what?' he choked out, trying to claw his way back to understanding.
'You failed,' Neruman repeated, his voice devoid of the usual taunting note it held when he toyed with Ogron. He wasn't playing. He was furious. 'Not only did the Winx figure out that your spell was an illusion, but they used their Tracix wings to see the past. They saw you, and they saw me!' None of that was Ogron's fault. He knew that, quietly. But it didn't matter. Neruman had decided to blame him, and no force on this Earth or any world of the Magic Dimension could dissuade him. Ogron knew the type. Knew the look of punishment in someone's eyes.
'This is unacceptable,' Neruman hissed viciously. 'But perhaps you just didn't know not to fail. You didn't know not to speak out against me; perhaps you just need to be schooled. Taught not to fail.'
The words helped drag Ogron back to reality, whilst also making him want to tumble back into the oblivion of his breakdown.
'W-what are you going to do to me?' he whispered, shrinking back against a shipping container.
Neruman's lips curled into a sick, twisted smile. 'Oh, I won't do anything. You brought this on yourself, so it only seems fair that you enact your punishment yourself.'
Neruman slid back into the shadow's resting place, and Ogron felt his limbs go rigid and still, the only movement permitted the shaky rise and fall of his chest. He felt his hands begin to move, and he steeled himself in a way he hadn't needed to in a long time.
It was over. It was over. That was all he had to think about. Not the bruises painting a sick tapestry across his skin, not the blood on his hands, just that it was over. Not that he'd face this again for any subsequent failings, just that it was over. Not that he could barely walk, just that it was over. It was over. Over. Over…
He staggered into the warehouse, not really aware of where he was going, just moving on autopilot, wandering hazily towards his bed and the sweet, sweet oblivion of sleep.
'Ogron! Ogron, we need to talk-' Anagan stopped dead as he saw Ogron, horror painting itself across his expression. 'Oh my god…'
'What…' Gantlos murmured, staring at Ogron in bewildered anguish. 'Ogron…what happened?'
Ogron had been asked so many questions over the past week. Whether he was okay, what was going on, if he needed to talk, and he'd brushed off every last one. But this…this was the breaking point. His limits had been stretched and stretched like a rubber band, pulled and plucked until, finally, staring into Gantlos's worried eyes, he snapped.
He dropped to his knees, his breaths coming in great, heaving sobs as he burst into tears, covering his face with his hands and shaking uncontrollably. He couldn't…he just couldn't keep it together. Not for another word, another step, another breath. He was broken, and he had finally been forced to stop hiding it.
'Ogron!' He felt arms around him, and he let them fold around his shaking body, pulling him close, bringing his head to rest on a strong, steadfast chest, rising and falling with a steady, reassuring rhythm at odds with the jerking gasps of his own chest.
'Ogron, it's okay…it's okay, we've got you.' Ogron buried his face in Gantlos's shoulder, screaming with anguish as tears flooded his face, soaking through Gantlos's shirt and stinging his eyes as they refused to cease, a torrent bursting from a damn held together by tape and delusion.
'It's okay…I promise, it's okay…' Ogron struggled to decipher whose voice that was, but he didn't believe them. Nothing was okay! Nothing! Nothing…
He screamed again, clinging on with a feverish desperation, his nails digging into the arms holding him as he tried to anchor himself. It was too hard, and it probably hurt, but Gantlos didn't make a sound to tell him to stop. He just held him, making soft, soothing noises as Ogron screamed and sobbed in his arms.
'Shh…shh, it's okay…' Ogron felt a hand slowly run through his hair, the movement gentle and soothing. He clung to the sensation, trying to anchor himself to the slow, steady strokes, fighting to slow his breathing down in time with the rhythm. It barely worked, but he managed to draw in just enough air that he stopped feeling he might pass out, and he held on to the semblance of control as he sunk further into Gantlos's embrace.
He was scared Gantlos and Anagan would ask questions, ask what was wrong, why he was sobbing on the warehouse floor, but they didn't. They didn't force him to explain what was happening. Just held him close and let him shatter. He didn't know for how long. All he knew was that his eyes were stinging from the endless tears and his throat was raw with sobs and screams, and that he was safe. He was safe to cry. To break. His friends, his family…they had him. And they'd have him as long as he needed.
After an eternity of disorienting gasped sobs, Ogron finally felt his tears start to ebb, practically dehydrated from the water lost in crying. His breaths, though still wild and jerky, managed to slow, and his hands stilled a little, though he still clung to Gantlos like a lifeline.
'Th-th-tha-thank…you…' he managed to gasp out, peeking up from Gantlos's shoulder.
Gantlos looked down at him with such caring, protective, worried compassion, stroking his hair and smiling reassuringly. 'You don't need to thank us. We've got you.'
Ogron buried his face in Gantlos's shoulder once again, his tears finally drying to a trickle and his sobs subsiding, leaving him shuddering and trying to find his way back to reality from his breakdown. The path was long and hard, trudging through miles and miles of confused numbness, but Gantlos and Anagan didn't move, patiently waiting as long as it took until Ogron could finally lift his head, his face glistening with a sheen of tears. Salt crusted his cheeks like the frost of Omega, and his eyes were more red puffiness than eye, but he could finally, finally breathe again.
'Hey…' Anagan murmured, gently brushing away his tears. 'Feeling a little closer to okay?'
Ogron laughed weakly at the question, the sound morphing into another broken sob. Anagan had no idea how much he appreciated the phrasing. He wasn't okay. He wasn't sure he was ever going to be okay. But he was closer. Letting himself break had lifted one of the million weights from his chest, allowing just a little more air into his drowning lungs.
'Mhm…' he mumbled, managing to sit up a little, though still leaning into Gantlos. He didn't want to break the embrace. This…in his friends' arms…this was the only safe place he had. And he wanted to stay cocooned in it for as long as possible.
'I…' he started, unsure of how to string the disjointed words swirling through his mind together into a coherent sentence. And once he could create meaning, he was at an utter loss for what he wanted to mean. But…maybe it was time. No, it was definitely time. Through his shuddering breaths and residual tears, he had to form an explanation.
'Neruman…' he began, his voice a trembling whisper that neither of his friends dared dream of interrupting. 'He…a week ago…when…when he kept me back…he wanted me to submit…he told me to kneel…but I wouldn't. So he…forced me.' He felt Gantlos stiffen under him, no doubt overcome with fears of what had befallen Ogron. 'He used a spell…some sick, twisted spell…and he…he…he…' No matter how hard he tried, the words wouldn't come, wouldn't be forced out in a rasping sob.
'Take your time,' Anagan murmured, taking his hand and squeezing it reassuringly.
Ogron drew the deepest breath he could force, managing to coax the words out. 'He bewitched my shadow. Made it obey him….and he used a spell…that could force me to do as it did. And it…it did whatever Neruman said. He…he…he put it in control, and he made me kneel. For hours. I couldn't speak, couldn't move, couldn't do anything except kneel before him like his little puppet.' He clenched his fist, squeezing Anagan's hand hard as he tried to battle through the memories.
Gantlos and Anagan both looked horrified, but neither one spoke, sensing he had more to say, and that it was taking all his shattered resolve to keep speaking.
'He's done it since…put my shadow in control…he can do it whenever he wants…make me his shadow puppet…sometimes it's as punishment…' he glanced down at the bruises marring his skin and had to close his eyes, '…sometimes it's just for his own entertainment. He…he can possess my shadow, too. Speak to me through it. Mock me, taunt me, belittle me, watch me writhe…' His breath hitched, and he clung to Gantlos as he felt more sobs threatening him. 'The Winx saw through the illusions…' he whispered, the words muffled as he spoke into Gantlos's chest. 'They're alive. They used Tracix…they saw us…saw Neruman…he's furious…'
'He did this to you?' Gantlos asked, his voice shaking with fury as he looked at the state Ogron was in.
Ogron shook his head, his lips pressed together in a thin line of anguish. 'I did this to myself. He just puppetted me. His little plaything…'
'Oh, Ogron…' Anagan joined the embrace, wrapping his arms around Ogron, protecting him from the hell life had become. 'That's awful. Why…why didn't you tell us?'
'I was humiliated…' Ogron whispered. 'I couldn't…I couldn't tell you…couldn't let you know he'd stripped me of my dignity, my autonomy…'
Anagan still evidently wished Ogron had let them in, but he didn't chastise him, just held him tight and murmured, 'I understand.' Ogron was so grateful. So grateful that they didn't berate him for keeping this to himself, didn't ask questions he didn't want to answer, just let him speak. Let him cry.
As his mind cleared a little more, he drifted back to the dilemma that had tortured him all day. He hated to think of it. If he set Gantlos and Anagan free…they'd never hold him again. Next time he broke, he'd have to shatter alone, sob on the cold, hard floor with no warmth or friendship to guide him back. The prospect was torture, but he couldn't keep this to himself any longer. His friends deserved so much more than this, more than being relegated to a life of servitude. He was trapped, bound to Neruman, but it wasn't too late for them.
As Anagan started to say something about getting Ogron fixed up, Ogron spoke, his voice a hoarse, trembling whisper. 'You aren't bewitched.'
Gantlos and Anagan exchanged a confused glance, frowning.
'What?' Anagan asked. 'What are you saying?'
Ogron swallowed hard, terrified at speaking the words that would turn the key in the cell door of his life of isolated servitude. '…He can't track you. He can track me, control me, but he can't do that to you. If you run…if you run…he can't…he can't find you…' He looked between his friends, his words pleading with them to run, but his eyes begging them not to leave him. 'I've known…I've known a while…but I didn't tell you…I'm sorry…I'm sorry, I was so selfish…' Tears spilled over again, and Gantlos held him tighter.
'Ogron, you're not selfish…' Anagan murmured, brushing away the fresh tears.
'Yes…yes I am…you don't deserve this, and I knew you could get away, but I didn't tell you…because I couldn't…I couldn't handle the idea of…of losing you…of facing this alone…' He took a deep breath, forcing his voice to steady as he spoke. He hated this. He didn't want them to leave. He wanted them to stay, to stay with him, to hold him close and help him believe that maybe, just maybe, it was all going to be okay. But they didn't deserve to suffer the way he had. They deserved to be free. So he had to say this, even if speaking the words felt like he was coughing up broken glass. 'You…you have to go. Leave. Run as far from Neruman as you can. I'm trapped, but you're not, and you have to run.'
Gantlos and Anagan were silent for a moment, and Ogron shook, trying to steel himself to lose the only people that made his life worth living.
Then Gantlos spoke. 'Ogron…are you insane?'
Ogron flinched, staring at his friend in confusion. '…What?'
'No. No, we're not leaving you.' The way Gantlos looked at him was filled with such miserable, pitying anguish, but all Ogron could think about was what he'd said. No. He wasn't leaving?
'Ogron, we will never leave you,' Anagan said firmly. 'Not in an eternity.'
'But…but you can be free…'
'We don't care.' Anagan held Ogron's hands, his eyes pleading for him to understand. 'We could never leave you alone, least of all with this psychopath. If one of us is trapped, we all are. We're not leaving. And we never will.'
'But you have to…'
'No, we don't.' Anagan smiled weakly, leaning in and hugging Ogron close. 'You're stuck with us.'
Ogron froze, unsure what to do for a moment. They weren't leaving. They chose him over their freedom. Then, his eyes found yet more tears from god-knew-where, and he threw his arms around Anagan, clinging on and crying into him. He'd cried so much, but this time, his tears weren't born solely of pain and anguish. They came from a whole tapestry of emotions, but most of all, they were brought on by a deep and overwhelming gratitude for his friends. His family.
'Thank you…' he whispered as Gantlos joined the embrace. 'Thank you…'
'We'll never leave you,' Gantlos promised. 'We're here, and we always will be. We've got you.'
Ogron sobbed harder, but it finally felt like a release. Like he was letting out the pain and fear that had plagued him, rather than sinking deeper into it. Every sob and tear was making him lighter.
After a long, long time, when Ogron's throat was so raw that he couldn't sob one more time and his eyes had truly run out of tears, he lifted his head, pulling back to look into his friends' eyes.
'Let's get you cleaned up,' Anagan said softly, getting up and helping Ogron to his feet. Ogron's steps were unsteady, his strength utterly spent after his breakdown, but he managed to be guided across to his bed.
Gantlos eased him to sit, very aware that Ogron was on the brink of a second collapse. 'Easy…there we go.' Ogron kept a tight grip on his hand, and Gantlos sat next to him, letting him hold on. 'It's okay…or at least getting there.'
'Closer to okay…' Ogron murmured, echoing Anagan's earlier words as he rested his head on Gantlos's shoulder. His eyelids fluttered, and he allowed himself to fall into a hazy doze as Anagan assessed his injuries. He could hear talking, but he didn't listen to anything beyond hearing there were no broken bones or internal bleeding. He didn't need to listen. Anagan was taking care of it. Taking care of him. He didn't have to agonise over dilemmas or try and focus on keeping calm. He just needed to rest and allow his body to stop. Just stop.
A few antiseptic stings prodded their way through his dazed slumber, but he only flinched, Gantlos gently stroking his hair every time, until it was all over.
'Ogron? It's done, you're as fixed up as you can be.'
Ogron made an incoherent mumbling noise in reply, burrowing deeper into Gantlos, the few parts of him still conscious putting all their energy into wondering why the hell they were still conscious.
He felt himself be laid down and whimpered, not ready to be let go just yet.
'Hey…it's okay, I'm not leaving.' Keeping his arms securely around Ogron, Gantlos lay down next to him, letting Ogron stay burrowed into him, sinking into the sense of security. 'Nothing's going to hurt you…' That wasn't true. Neruman would hurt him. He'd hurt him again. Ogron knew it from the sadistic gleam he'd seen in Neruman's eyes every time he'd caused him pain, or made him feel small and weak. But for now, Ogron allowed himself to believe Gantlos. To let himself feel safe, even if he wasn't, at least not for long.
Anagan sat on the end of the makeshift bed, watching Ogron as he let his head loll on Gantlos's chest, the ragged gasps that had been typical of every breath he drew for days finally easing until the tension fell from his body, and he managed to escape into sleep. His friends would be there when he woke up. They'd be there when he slept again. They'd be with him through all of this, and that…that made this hell just a little more bearable.
This was so harrowing, but I loved writing it. I'm so glad Ogron's finally let it out; that breakdown was a long time coming. I just skipped over what Neruman did to Ogron, because it would just have been gratuitous. Thank you so much to Coredetenebris on Tumblr; you gave me the idea for Ogron telling his friends to run, and it was so good! So much angst... But of course they didn't leave him; they would never. (If I can be honest, the end of this chapter gave me thoughts that make me feel like I'm betraying Dumantlos...)