Content Warning:

This arc contains depictions of toxic relationships, emotional abuse, manipulation, cycles of abuse, drugging (love potions/ spells), physical torment, and psychological trauma.Please proceed with caution if these themes may be triggering for you. Your well-being comes first.


Anagan huddled in the cold, dark room, his body trembling not just from the icy water that had drenched him but from the fear that gnawed at his insides. The chill of the night seemed to seep into his bones, and his thoughts raced, disjointed and panicked. He tried to focus on the warmth of the fire that had been lit just a short while ago, but it felt distant, unattainable, like a fading memory. He'd been in the dark room alone and cold for hours- only once did a servant come into the room, and the only thing provided was another drenching of cold water.

Finally heavy footsteps echoed through the stillness of the room, each thud reverberating in his chest like a drumbeat of impending doom. His breath hitched, and before he could fully grasp what was happening, Anagan found himself outside the cage, no longer a rabbit but human once more. His skin was still cold and wet, and the stark contrast between his vulnerability and the luxurious surroundings only heightened his sense of dread.

A thick, warm blanket was suddenly wrapped around him, and the fire roared to life, casting flickering shadows across the room. Ogron stood before him, an imposing figure with an unreadable expression, holding a tray of food. Anagan's stomach churned, his instincts screaming at him to run, but his body refused to obey. Instead, he found himself backing into the wall, his heart pounding in his chest.

Ogron's frown deepened as he set the tray down, slowly approaching Anagan with deliberate steps. The tension in the air was suffocating, and Anagan could feel his pulse hammering in his ears. When Ogron reached out to stroke his face, Anagan flinched violently, his body recoiling from the touch as if it burned.

"Please," Anagan whispered, his voice shaking, "please don't hurt me. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..."

Ogron paused, his hand hovering in the air before he gently placed it on Anagan's cheek, his expression softening into a sweet, almost tender smile. He pulled Anagan into an embrace, one that should have been comforting but instead felt like a steel trap closing in. Anagan was rigid from fear, from cold, bile threatening to spill from his mouth.

"Hush now, my darling," Ogron cooed, his voice smooth and soothing, a truly addictive toxin, as he stroked Anagan's damp hair. "It's alright, curiosity got the better of you, didn't it?"

Anagan, too terrified to do anything but comply, nodded his head weakly, tears welling up in his eyes. Ogron tilted Anagan's chin up with a gentle finger, forcing their gazes to meet. His eyes, which had been so warm just moments ago, now gleamed with a dangerous intensity. The icy blues threatened every inch of the man shuddering beneath them.

"If it happens again," Ogron whispered, his voice dropping to a menacing low, "the dogs will catch you. Do you understand me?"

Anagan's breath hitched in his throat, and he nodded fervently, the fear in his heart overwhelming any semblance of resistance. The threat lingered in the air, a dark promise veiled in Ogron's tender gestures. Tears slipped out as Anagan shivered in the king's arms.

"Ana, obedience keeps you safe — I need you to let me protect you, to let me love you. You're too delicate, my soft, sweet Ana doll."

But as Ogron continued to pet him, to coo and murmur sweet reassurances, Anagan's confusion only deepened. The dichotomy of Ogron's words and actions was dizzying, and despite his fear, Anagan found himself melting into the touch, desperate for any semblance of warmth and safety.

"Hush, hush darling Ana," the king whispered gently, "I only did that because I love you. Actions have consequences, darling. I'm sorry," Ogron whispered against his hair, and Anagan shivered, not from the cold but from the chilling realization of just how deeply Ogron's hold on him had sunk. The words were like poison wrapped in honey, and Anagan, in his vulnerable state, was too disoriented to recognize the venom beneath the sweetness. The mixture of warmth and affection was overwhelming, and his yearning for comfort made him cling to Ogron's embrace. As if sensing Anagan's internal struggle, Ogron leaned in, pressing a soft, dominating kiss to Anagan's lips. The kiss was firm, assertive, and sent shivers down Anagan's spine. For a moment, the intensity of it made Anagan's fears dissolve into a haze of warmth and longing. He had yearned for this kind of attention, even if it was tainted with power.

Ogron's lips lingered on Anagan's, his breath warm and steady against Anagan's face. Pulling back just enough to whisper in his ear, Ogron murmured soothingly, "There, there. Let yourself be at ease. You're safe here with me."

As Anagan's exhaustion finally overtook his apprehension, he closed his eyes, succumbing to the soft, calming cadence of Ogron's voice. Ogron's words were laced with both affection and dominance, a paradox that Anagan found both comforting and disorienting. He felt Ogron's arms around him, holding him close as he continued to whisper sweet nothings, coaxing Anagan into a state of drowsy submission.

"I-I'm cold..." Anagan murmured, his voice small and fragile, as he tried to pull away, seeking some distance, some clarity.

Ogron smiled, a soft, almost pitying smile as if Anagan were a helpless child. "Of course, my dear. Let me draw you a warm bath," he said, guiding Anagan toward the adjoining room where a lavish bathtub awaited.

As the steam from the hot water filled the room, Ogron helped Anagan into the tub, his hands lingering on Anagan's skin longer than necessary. Anagan was too exhausted, too emotionally drained to protest. The warmth of the water enveloped him, but it did little to soothe the turmoil in his mind. He could feel Ogron's eyes on him, watching, waiting, as if savoring every moment of Anagan's vulnerability.

Ogron sat by the tub, gently washing Anagan's back with a soft cloth, his touch light and tender. His fingers leaving trailing of warmth and comfort. There was something in the way the king seemed to slowly slip over parts of him that made him shudder, the way the redhead took his time, as if memorizing Anagan with his fingers, it was sweet and warm and predatory. The contrast between the harshness of his earlier actions and the current gentleness was stark, and it left Anagan feeling disoriented and conflicted.

As Ogron's hands moved with careful precision, Anagan's mind spiraled, caught between the desire to feel safe in Ogron's presence and the growing unease that gnawed at him. He wanted to believe in the affection Ogron offered, to let himself be lulled by the kindness, but a small, persistent voice in the back of his mind warned him that something was terribly wrong.

The bath that should have been comforting only served to deepen Anagan's confusion. Each time Ogron spoke, his words dripped with a sweetness that threatened to drown Anagan's doubts, yet underneath it all, there was a coldness, a calculated precision that Anagan couldn't quite shake.

As the bath came to an end, Ogron wrapped Anagan in another warm blanket, drying him off with gentle care. Anagan, feeling like a ragdoll in Ogron's hands, allowed himself to be led back to the grand bed in Ogron's room. His limbs felt heavy, his mind foggy, as if the events of the night had drained him of all his strength.

Ogron tucked Anagan into bed, his touch lingering as he smoothed the blankets over him. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to Anagan's forehead, and whispered, "Sleep well, my dear. You're safe here, with me. I love you so much."

Anagan closed his eyes, wanting desperately to believe those words, but the darkness that crept into his thoughts refused to be banished. Even as sleep claimed him, the echoes of Ogron's threats and the suffocating sweetness of his touch lingered, wrapping around Anagan like the chains that bound him to this place, to this man.

And as he drifted into uneasy slumber, a small voice spoke out in his mind, one he had pushed away at ever displaying affection towards himself,

"I am not safe."