Content warning:
mentions of unhealthy relationships, controlling/abusive behavior
Ogron was still young, his heart was not yet hardened by the burdens of power. He was no more than a boy, his eyes wide with curiosity as he wandered the grand halls of the palace, where the air was thick with secrets and the echoes of hushed conversations.
Ogron often found himself drawn to Valtor, his predecessor, the man who had taught him nearly everything he knew. Valtor was a figure of immense power, charisma, and mystery—a man who commanded both fear and adoration in equal measure. But what fascinated Ogron the most were Valtor's many lovers, each more beautiful and enchanting than the last. They came and went like the changing seasons, their faces different, but their stories eerily similar.
One evening, as Ogron watched from the shadows of a grand corridor, he noticed one of Valtor's lovers—a striking woman with midnight hair—leave the king's chambers with tears in her eyes. She quickly wiped them away as she passed, her steps quick and her face set in a mask of composure, but the pain was unmistakable.
Curiosity piqued, Ogron waited until Valtor was alone before entering the chamber. The king was reclining in a chair, a glass of dark wine in hand, his expression one of mild amusement as he noticed the boy's approach.
"Ah, Ogron," Valtor greeted, his voice smooth and deep. "What brings you here at this hour?"
Ogron hesitated for a moment, then spoke up, his youthful voice laced with confusion. "I saw her leave… She looked upset. Did… did something happen?"
Valtor's smile widened, a flash of something predatory in his eyes. He motioned for Ogron to come closer, and the boy obeyed, drawn in by the king's magnetic presence.
"Ogron," Valtor began, his tone laced with a patient, almost paternal warmth, "there are things you will learn as you grow older—things that may not make sense to you now, but will in time. You see, in matters of the heart, most people are… misguided."
"Misguided?" Ogron echoed, his brows furrowing.
"Yes," Valtor continued, setting down his glass and leaning forward. "You see, Ogron, most people don't truly know what they want. They may think they do—they may speak of love, freedom, and trust—but in reality, they're lost. They're like children, reaching out for things they don't understand."
Ogron listened intently, his young mind absorbing every word.
"Our kind," Valtor went on, "we know better. We are stronger, wiser, more powerful. We see the world as it truly is. And because of that, it is our duty—no, our right—to guide those we love. To show them the way. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
Ogron nodded slowly, though he wasn't entirely sure he did.
Valtor smiled again, this time more indulgently, as if sensing the boy's uncertainty. He rose from his chair and placed a hand on Ogron's shoulder, his grip firm yet comforting.
"Let me make it simpler for you," Valtor said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "In a romantic relationship, Ogron, you must take control. You must own your partner—mind, body, heart, and soul. Only then will they be truly happy. Only then will they never leave you, because they won't know anything except you. They will be yours, and you will be theirs. Completely."
Ogron's eyes widened at the words, a mixture of awe and confusion swirling within him. "But… doesn't that mean they're not free?"
"Freedom," Valtor scoffed, his tone dripping with disdain. "Is an illusion, Ogron. A dangerous illusion. Those who seek it often find themselves lost, hurt, or worse. By taking control, you're not imprisoning them—you're protecting them. Keeping them safe from the chaos of their own minds, from the world that would surely tear them apart. You're giving them the greatest gift of all: certainty, security, purpose."
Ogron felt a strange sense of clarity washing over him. The way Valtor spoke, it made so much sense—of course his lovers were better off under his control. Of course they needed him to guide them. They didn't know any better. They couldn't.
Valtor's hand tightened slightly on Ogron's shoulder, his gaze piercing. "Remember this, Ogron. Love is not about equality, or freedom, or trust. Love is about power. And when you hold that power, you must never let it go. Do you understand?"
Ogron nodded, a newfound resolve settling in his chest. "Yes, I understand."
"Good," Valtor said, releasing his shoulder and stepping back. "You will go far, Ogron. You have the makings of a true leader—a true king."
