Content warning: This arc contains graphic depictions of violence, strong language, physical abuse, psychological abuse, mind breaking, implied drugs (love potions) and involuntary violence. If any of these themes are triggering to you, please read with caution. Your mental wellbeing comes first.


Ogron awoke hours before dawn, the castle still steeped in shadows as the first hint of light lingered on the horizon. His preparations were meticulous, each movement deliberate as he dressed himself for the coming duel. Though he had dressed down from his usual regal attire, he still exuded an air of royalty, the ornate details of his outfit shimmering under the faint candlelight. Even now, in this slightly more subdued ensemble, there was a flashiness that could not be ignored—he was a king, after all, and his presence demanded attention.

As Ogron fastened the last clasp of his belt, the soft rustle of sheets caught his attention. Anagan stirred in the bed, his body shifting under the weight of the love potion's intoxicating hold on him. His eyes fluttered open, hazy with sleep, and he whispered in a voice that sounded far away, as though he were struggling to swim to consciousness.

"My love?" Anagan mumbled, his words slurring together. "What…are you doing? Is it…morning?"

Ogron paused, a twisted satisfaction spreading across his face. He loved this—loved how stupid and helpless the love potion had made his little Ana doll. The way his once-sharp mind had dulled, leaving him in this dreamy, dependent state. The king adored it.

"Sweet little rabbit," Ogron cooed, his voice dripping with mock affection as he turned to face Anagan. "I'm readying myself for the duel. I want to be sure I have enough time to do everything I need to first…"

He walked over to the bed, standing above Anagan with a cold smile, his presence looming over the smaller man like a shadow. He reached down, tilting Anagan's chin up with a single finger, forcing their eyes to meet.

"This duel is all your fault, you know," Ogron said, his voice almost sing-song, though there was a sharp edge underneath the sweetness.

Anagan blinked, his expression confused as he struggled to comprehend the words. "My fault?" he echoed weakly, his mind still tangled in the fog.

Ogron's smile widened as he feigned disappointment, his gaze sharpening with malice. "Yes, because of your need to wander around and make pleasantries with others, now I have to go and put up a fight."

Anagan's heart skipped a beat, his hazy mind desperately trying to keep up. The weight of Ogron's words sank in, and his chest tightened with guilt. "I'm… I'm sorry," Anagan whispered, his voice trembling.

Ogron sat on the edge of the bed, crossing his arms as he looked away from Anagan with an exaggerated sigh, the picture of cold indifference. "I'm so disappointed in you, Ana," he said flatly, though the smile never left his face.

Anagan's heart shattered at the words. His king—his love—was disappointed in him. The panic hit him all at once, crashing over him like a wave. He scrambled out of bed and threw himself at Ogron's feet, clinging desperately to his leg. Tears welled up in his eyes as he buried his face against Ogron's knee, his entire body shaking with frantic desperation.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" Anagan's voice cracked as he pleaded, his hands gripping Ogron's leg tightly. "Please, I love you! I can't live without you! Please, forgive me…"

Ogron looked down at him, his heart swelling with a sadistic kind of glee. He loved this—seeing Anagan broken, reduced to this pathetic, groveling mess at his feet. He could almost feel the power thrumming through his veins, the control he had over this once-proud man. He leaned forward slightly, his voice dripping with mock sympathy.

"Aww, so my little rabbit does care?" Ogron cooed, stroking Anagan's hair with a cruel tenderness.

"Yes, yes! I'm so sorry!" Anagan sobbed, his voice thick with desperation. "I'll never leave the room without you! I promise, I'll be good…"

Ogron's smile widened, satisfaction curling at the corners of his lips. "That's a good little rabbit," he murmured, leaning down to capture Anagan's lips in a slow, deliberate kiss.

The kiss, as before, was laced with the love potion, but it was mixed with another kind. The king had to be sure his Ana wouldn't find peace in another.

Anagan melted into it immediately. His resistance evaporated, leaving him pliant and eager, his entire body sinking into Ogron's touch as though it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

Ogron's hands cradled Anagan's face as he deepened the kiss, the potion working its way through Anagan's veins, dulling his thoughts even further. When he finally pulled away, Ogron gazed down at his lover with a cold, calculating smile.

"But," Ogron's voice turned sharp again, though he kept his grip gentle, "I still need to punish you for causing so much trouble."

Anagan's breath hitched, but he didn't protest. Instead, he nodded, his voice a soft whisper. "Of course… anything to make you happy."

Ogron chuckled darkly, his hand sliding down to gently caress Anagan's cheek. "Such a good little rabbit," he murmured, his gaze gleaming with a sadistic satisfaction. He could feel the power he held over Anagan like a noose tightening around his neck, and he reveled in it.

The duel was looming, but Ogron knew that no matter what happened out there, he had already won the most important battle.

———

The courtyard was still in the early morning mist, a cold wind curling through the air, carrying the scent of dew-soaked earth. Ogron stepped out first, his polished boots crunching against the gravel with every deliberate step. His outfit was ostentatious even now—embroidered details glittered in the faint light, catching the eye. Gantlos, in stark contrast, was dressed plainly, his shirt rolled up at the sleeves, his fists clenched and ready. The tension between them was thick, almost tangible, as they faced each other in the wide-open space.

"Wow. You know how to dress down, for a city boy," Gantlos grumbled, his voice carrying a gravelly sarcasm that cut through the air.

Ogron's smile was slow, syrupy sweet, and full of venom. "We can settle this without having to embarrass you, you know ," the king cooed, his voice dripping with mock tenderness. "If you join the Black Circle now, you may still have your pride."

Gantlos's jaw tightened, his voice lowering to a dangerous growl. "This ain't about that."

Ogron's eyes darkened, a cruel glint sparking behind them. He stepped forward, his smile twisting into something darker, more malicious. "No, it's more about you gallivanting around my little Ana. Don't worry," his voice dropped to a sickly whisper, "I think I helped him understand how...inappropriate it was for you two to get so… friendly."

Gantlos chuckled, but it was dry and sharp, like flint striking steel. "You got no right to be so jealous," Gantlos gave him a dry smile, "After all, ain't you the one practically humpin my leg like a bitch in heat?"

In an instant, Ogron's expression twisted with fury. There was a crack of magical energy, a blinding flash, and before Gantlos could react, he was thrown backward by a violent blast that exploded from Ogron's outstretched hand. His back slammed into the courtyard wall with a resounding thud, the stone beneath him shaking from the impact. The fight had begun.

"That word will not leave your mouth when you regard me— huh?"

The ground beneath Gantlos's feet trembled as he stood, his boots grinding into the earth as he steadied himself. His hands clenched into fists, his muscles rippling with pent-up energy. He raised his hands above his head and brought them down in a swift, powerful clap. The air around him rippled, then cracked like thunder as seismic waves surged through the ground, splitting the stone courtyard beneath Ogron's feet. The earth quaked violently, and for a moment, the king staggered, his footing thrown off by the sheer force of the tremor.

But Ogron didn't fall.

With a sickening grin, he pushed forward, his body absorbing the force of the quake. He straightened, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off a mere inconvenience.

"Is that it?" he taunted, his voice cold and mocking. "I thought you might actually put up a fight."

Gantlos growled, the veins in his neck bulging as he took a step forward, slamming his foot into the ground with a thunderous stomp. The impact sent another shockwave hurtling toward Ogron, the ground cracking and splintering as it surged beneath the king's feet. Ogron skidded back slightly, his body wavering—but only for a second.

Each tremor, each seismic burst, seemed to fuel him. The king's grin widened with every impact, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous, predatory light. Gantlos couldn't understand it—no matter how hard he hit, no matter how strong the vibrations, Ogron absorbed it all, growing more powerful with each wave of energy.

Gantlos clenched his jaw, his frustration mounting. He lunged at Ogron, closing the distance between them with a feral growl. His fist shot forward, aiming for the king's jaw. This time, the fight turned physical. Flesh met flesh with a sickening crack as Gantlos's fist connected with Ogron's face, sending him reeling. The satisfying thud echoed through the courtyard, and for the first time, Ogron's smile faltered. Gantlos didn't let up—he followed through with a brutal uppercut, then slammed his knee into the king's stomach with enough force to knock the wind out of him. Ogron felt blood trickling from his mouth, he looked up in time to dodge another punch, only for a kick to meet his ribs. Gantlos picked him up, hoisting him over his head and throwing the king to the ground. Ogron could feel his ribs cracking. With a swift motion, the king utilized his magic, kicking up a swift surge of energy that caused gantlos to fall. The blond wiped the blood from his nose, slamming his fist to the ground he tealeased the most powerful wave he could. Ogron stumbled back to his feet , his hand pressed to his side, his breath coming out in ragged gasps. For a brief moment, it seemed like Gantlos had the upper hand.

But then Ogron shot him back with a blow so strong Gantlos could feel electricity in his teeth. The energy burnt him from behind his eyes, he let out a raspy cough, blood spotting his face. The king brought his heel down into Gantlos's chest, before striking him with his own seismic wave.

Ogron's voice was thick with amusement, though his smile was now something far more dangerous. He straightened, examining himself in displeasure. "Did you really think you could win like this?"

Before Gantlos could react, Ogron moved—faster than Gantlos thought possible. His hand shot out, gripping Gantlos by the throat and lifting him off the ground as though he weighed nothing. Ogron's grip tightened, his fingers digging into Gantlos's flesh as he lifted him higher, his eyes gleaming with a cruel light.

"I absorb everything you throw at me," Ogron hissed, his voice low and dripping with malice. "Every tremor, every blow —it only makes me stronger."

Gantlos struggled, gasping for air as he kicked at Ogron, trying to break free, but the king's grip was unyielding. The air around them crackled with raw, dark energy, and Gantlos could feel the strength draining from his limbs, his vision blurring as Ogron's power pressed down on him like a crushing weight.

"Look at you now," Ogron purred, his voice soft, almost sweet. "You thought you had a chance, didn't you?"

With a sharp, violent motion, Ogron hurled Gantlos across the courtyard. Gantlos hit the ground hard, skidding across the stone as pain seared through his body. He struggled to push himself up, his muscles screaming in protest, but his body refused to obey. Blast after blast, Gantlos felt his organs burning, if the fight had stayed physical, he'd be on top. Unfortunately he was out matched when it came to magic, especially if Ogron had been absorbing his attacks.

Ogron stepped forward, his boots crunching over the shattered stone as he approached Gantlos. "It's over, darling," Ogron said softly, his smile cold and final.

Gantlos looked up, his vision swimming as Ogron loomed over him. He wanted to stand, wanted to keep fighting, but his body was broken.

As Ogron raised his hand, dark energy swirling in his palm, Gantlos braced himself for the final blow.

Gantlos shut his eyes and braced for the pain that would surely come. But when he opened them again, Ogron was smiling down at him, his expression twisted with cruel amusement.

"Oh, Gantlos, you are quite the opponent. Strong, loyal—yet dreadfully stupid. Just as a dog is, I suppose."

Before Gantlos could react, his body began to shift. The world around him warped, growing taller and more distant. He could feel himself healing, yet his limbs contorted, his skin prickling as fur sprouted from his body. He tried to speak, to curse Ogron for whatever twisted spell he had cast, but all that came out was a sharp, panicked bark. His voice, his form—everything he knew of himself—was gone.

In his place sat a large, blonde dog.

Gantlos's eyes widened in shock, but before he had time to process what had happened, he felt a tug around his neck. A tether, cold and firm, had been fastened to him. He growled, snapping his teeth as Ogron began to drag him down the halls, his paws scraping against the stone floor. The humiliation burned in his chest, but his barks and growls did nothing to faze the king.

"Oh, come now, doggy," Ogron cooed, his voice mocking and playful. "Don't be like that. This form isn't anything against you, nor anything for me. I need you like this for something else."

Gantlos snarled, frustration and confusion boiling inside him. What could the king possibly want from him in this form? He tugged against the leash, but Ogron merely hummed, pulling him forward with ease.

——-

They arrived at the king's chamber, and Gantlos immediately noticed something off. The air felt heavy, oppressive. In the corner, perched on a table, was a small rabbit—shivering, wet, its fur matted with water. The creature's eyes were wide with panic, darting around the room as if looking for an escape. Gantlos's eyes followed the rabbit's gaze, and that's when he saw it—a large snake, sleek and menacing, slithering across the stone floor toward the trembling creature.

Ogron stepped on the snake without a second thought, crushing it beneath his heel with a grace that sent a shiver through Gantlos. The king's attention, however, was fixed on the rabbit.

Gantlos's eyes followed the king as he stepped toward the trembling rabbit on the table. With a wave of his hand, the small creature morphed, its quivering body expanding until Anagan knelt before Ogron, pale and shivering, his clothes damp and his eyes wide with fear. His lips trembled as he collapsed at the king's feet, clutching at the hem of his robe with desperation.

"I'm so sorry, my lord…" Anagan's voice was barely more than a whisper, frail and broken as his trembling fingers clung to the fabric. His wide, pleading eyes searched Ogron's face for even a hint of warmth, for the affection he craved so desperately. "Please…I didn't mean to upset you…I didn't—"

Ogron stared down at him, his expression cold, eyes glittering with cruel amusement. "Oh, you pitiful little thing," he crooned mockingly, brushing a hand through Anagan's damp hair, the touch so fleeting it was like a ghost of affection. "You really do need me, don't you?"

"Yes… yes, I need you…" Anagan's voice cracked, and his body leaned toward the touch as if it were the only thing keeping him from falling apart. His heart raced, his skin prickling with the need to feel Ogron's warmth, his lips parted as if he were about to beg for a kiss, for some sign that the king wasn't truly angry with him.

Ogron let his hand linger in Anagan's hair for a moment, tilting the man's face up toward him with deceptive gentleness. For a second, it seemed like he might lean down, like he might offer Anagan the kiss he so desperately craved. Anagan's breath hitched, his lips parting slightly, his eyes filled with hope—

But just as their faces drew close, Ogron abruptly pulled back.

"Ah, no." His voice was light, teasing, as if he were speaking to a child. "You haven't earned that yet, little rabbit."

Anagan's face crumpled, his hands trembling as they tightened their grip on Ogron's robe. "Please…please, my lord…" he whispered, tears forming in his eyes. His voice wavered, broken and desperate. "I'll do anything. Just…just don't be angry with me. I'll be good, I won't leave the room —please don't leave me like this."

Ogron chuckled softly, the sound low and cruel. "Look at you," he purred, reaching down to stroke Anagan's cheek with one finger, the touch light and dismissive. "You're such a desperate little thing. It's almost pathetic how much you need me." His lips curled into a smirk. "Tell me, Ana—how does it feel? To be so utterly dependent on my affection, to need me so much that you'd throw yourself at my feet?"

Anagan's breathing quickened, his face flushing with a mixture of shame and longing. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the king's face, even as Ogron's words cut into him like knives. "I…I can't help it," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "I need you, my lord. I love you. Please…"

"Do you?" Ogron mused, his fingers tracing down the side of Anagan's face, just barely grazing his skin. He leaned down again, and for a brief, tantalizing moment, it seemed like he might finally give Anagan the kiss he so desperately sought. Anagan's heart raced, his lips trembling as he waited—

But once again, Ogron pulled back at the last second, standing tall above him, his smile cold and distant. "Hmm, no. I think I'll make you wait a little longer."

Anagan let out a small, broken sob, his hands shaking as they clung tighter to Ogron's robe. "Please," he whispered, his voice cracking as tears began to roll down his cheeks. "Please, don't do this…"

Ogron crouched down, his face inches from Anagan's, his smile widening as he relished in the power he held over him. "Look at you," he murmured, his voice dripping with mockery. "Begging so beautifully for me. It's almost sweet. But I think I like you better like this—desperate, needy, completely at my mercy." He brushed his lips across Anagan's forehead, so faint that it barely counted as a kiss, just enough to make the man whimper with longing.

Anagan's whole body trembled, his voice cracking as he whimpered, "I love you…please…don't leave me like this…"

"Oh, Ana," Ogron sighed with false pity, standing up and looking down at the broken man at his feet. "You always say the most pitiful things. And yet, I don't think you've learned your lesson just yet."

Anagan's fingers curled into the fabric of Ogron's robe, his body racked with quiet sobs. "I'll be good…please, just love me…"

Ogron's smile widened. "I'll be back soon," he said, his tone almost bored as he grabbed the tether attached to the dog that was Gantlos. "But until then, why don't you keep this mutt company?"

Anagan's eyes widened in horror as Ogron began to walk away, his heart pounding with panic. "No…no, please!" He reached out, his voice rising in a desperate plea. "Please don't leave me…I need you!"

Ogron paused at the door, glancing back with a smirk. "Such a needy little thing," he mused. "Don't worry, Ana. I'm sure the dog will keep you well until I return."

He clicked the door shut behind him, the sound of the lock falling into place sealing Anagan's fate. The room grew silent, save for the crackle of the fire and the soft, broken sobs that spilled from Anagan's lips. He stared at the door, his body trembling with desperation and fear, the tears rolling down his face unchecked.

Gantlos watched, frozen in his canine form, as Anagan crumbled into himself, collapsing to the floor in front of the fire. He looked utterly destroyed, his once-proud demeanor shattered, leaving behind only the hollow shell of a man who had been toyed with one too many times.

Gantlos let out a low whine, still trying to process what he had just witnessed. He cautiously padded over to Anagan, his large paws silent on the floor. As he approached, he could see the raw emotion etched into Anagan's face—the fear, the sorrow, the confusion. The man was a trembling wreck, his eyes red and swollen as he stared blankly into the fire.

"He… promised…" Anagan whispered, his voice thick with tears. Gantlos tilted his head, his heart aching at the sight. Anagan's hand reached out, Gantlos flinched a bit, causing Anagan to hesitate before hovering just above Gantlos's fur. But instead of petting him, Anagan's face twisted into a mask of despair.

"He promised… he loves me…" The sobs came hard and fast, wracking his body as he clutched at the blanket around his shoulders. "I upset him…now even dogs…don't want me."

The broken words tore through Gantlos. Without thinking, he leaned forward and gently licked Anagan's face, offering what little comfort he could. Anagan's sobs quieted for a moment, his fingers tentatively brushing against Gantlos's fur. He buried his face into the dog's warm coat, his tears soaking into the fur as he whispered broken apologies.

"I need you…" Anagan murmured, his voice fragile and strained. "Please come back…"

At first, Gantlos was confused, but it quickly dawned on him that Anagan wasn't talking to him—he was talking about Ogron. He was begging for the king's return, for the affection that had been so cruelly withheld. Gantlos pressed closer, his large body curling protectively around the distraught man.

Anagan's sobs eventually softened, exhaustion overtaking him as his body trembled with each breath. Gantlos watched as he lay down on the floor, still crying, his hands clutching at the blanket as though it was the only thing keeping him tethered to the world. Gantlos dragged a pillow over to him, his heart heavy with the weight of what he had just witnessed. He lay close to Anagan, his own body growing tired, though his mind remained restless.

"You're a good dog…" Anagan whispered, his voice barely audible as sleep finally claimed him.

Gantlos rested his head beside him, a deep sense of unease settling in his chest. Dog or not, he knew something was terribly wrong. Anagan's suffering echoed in the quiet room, even as sleep overtook him. Gantlos closed his eyes, but his thoughts remained on the broken man lying beside him, his heart heavy with concern.

Even in sleep, Anagan seemed to suffer.