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.
Two days had passed, and though Anagan insisted the incident was behind them, there was still a barrier—an invisible wall that kept Ogron from holding Anagan's heart as tightly as he wished. The distance between them gnawed at Ogron, who needed to do something—anything—to win back his little rabbit, to keep Anagan's heart protected and, more importantly, to own it.
Ogron had delegated his business to his trusted advisors, determined to free up time for his precious Ana doll. Somewhere in the back of his mind, the servants' advice about handling rabbits echoed: Be gentle, tread lightly. He knew he needed to approach this with more care, to be delicate where once he was overbearing.
That morning, as they sat across from each other in the sunlit breakfast room, Ogron noticed the weariness in Anagan's eyes, the way they seemed to struggle to stay open, like heavy curtains fighting against the pull of gravity.
"Ana," Ogron's voice cut through the silence, soft yet tinged with concern. "Are you alright?"
Anagan blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the question. His gaze drifted up from the untouched tea in his cup, the dark circles under his eyes betraying the sleepless nights he'd endured. The gentle morning light did little to hide the fatigue that clung to him like a shadow.
"I'm fine," Anagan replied, though his voice lacked its usual vigor. It was flat, tired, like a melody that had lost its tune. "I just… didn't sleep well, that's all."
Ogron's eyes lingered on him, tracing the lines of exhaustion that marred Anagan's face. He knew better than to push too hard, but he couldn't ignore the growing chasm between them. It was a gulf he needed to bridge, to pull Anagan back into his fold, to hold him close—fully and completely.
"I was thinking," Ogron began, leaning forward slightly, his tone unusually tender. "Perhaps we could spend some time together today. Take a break from everything... if you'll have it."
The king felt a strange warmth blooming in his chest, a sensation both exhilarating and terrifying. This wasn't the cold, calculating control he was used to; it was something more fragile, more profound. It made him feel vulnerable, yet more alive than he had in years.
Anagan looked at him, surprise flickering in his eyes like the first hint of dawn after a long night. "What did you have in mind?" he asked, his voice soft, yet laced with curiosity.
"Whatever you want," Ogron replied, offering a small, inviting smile. "We could go for a walk in the garden, like we used to. Or just… talk. I miss those moments with you, Ana."
Anagan hesitated, the vulnerability in Ogron's voice tugging at something deep within him. The words stirred a longing in his heart, a desire to believe that they could recapture the bond they once shared. But the memories of their last confrontation lingered, casting long shadows over his thoughts, making him wary.
Still, Ogron's eyes were sincere, his expression almost pleading. "Please," he added, his voice barely above a whisper. "Let me make it up to you."
Anagan softened at those words, his resolve wavering. Slowly, he nodded, almost as if he were giving in to a yearning he couldn't quite suppress. "Alright, Ogron. Let's go for a walk."
The two men made their way to the garden, walking in silence at first, the cobblestone path winding through the lush greenery of the palace grounds. The morning sun filtered through the canopy of trees, casting dappled shadows on the ground. The air was crisp, carrying the scent of earth and blooming flowers—an intoxicating blend that filled the space between them.
Ogron kept a watchful eye on Anagan, his mind racing as he searched for the right words, the right approach. The tension in Anagan's posture was palpable, his shoulders slightly hunched as if he were carrying an invisible burden. It pained Ogron to see him like this, so different from the vibrant man he had fallen for.
As they passed a cluster of red carnivorous plants—vivid and menacing in their beauty—Ogron reached out, gesturing towards the delicate yet deadly petals. "Do you remember these?" he asked, his voice light, an attempt to break the ice that had formed between them.
Anagan's eyes flicked to the plants, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "You insisted on planting them yourself… You said you did it for me." His voice held a touch of nostalgia, recalling the memory of Ogron meticulously selecting the plants because they were Anagan's favorite, despite his clumsy attempts at gardening.
Ogron chuckled softly, the sound warm and genuine. "And they still grew, despite my less-than-perfect technique. I suppose some things just thrive when they're given enough care."
He paused, letting the words hang in the air, their deeper meaning unspoken yet clear. "Like us, Ana. We've been through a lot, but we've always found a way to make things work. I don't want that to change."
Anagan's smile faltered slightly, replaced by a more serious expression. "I don't want that either, Ogron. But… I'm scared. I don't want to get hurt again."
Ogron's heart clenched at Anagan's admission, the raw vulnerability in his voice striking him like a physical blow. He kept his tone calm, soothing, though inside, he was desperate. "You won't, Ana. I swear it. I'll do whatever it takes to keep you safe, to keep us strong."
Anagan wanted to believe in Ogron's promises, but the memory of their last argument lingered like a shadow over his heart. Was this change real, or just another tactic to keep him close? And yet, when Ogron looked at him with such sincerity, it was hard not to hope.
Ogron reached out, taking Anagan's hand in his, the gesture tender and cautious. His thumb brushed lightly over Anagan's knuckles, a small, reassuring motion. "I need you to trust me, like you used to. Let me show you that I can be the partner you need."
Anagan looked down at their joined hands, the warmth of Ogron's touch seeping into his skin, chasing away the chill of doubt that had settled there. The sincerity in Ogron's voice, the gentleness of his touch—it was hard to resist, hard not to want to believe that they could go back to what they had before.
"I want to trust you, Ogron," Anagan murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "I really do."
"Then let me earn that trust back," Ogron replied, his tone earnest, almost pleading. "Let me take care of you, Ana."
Anagan met his gaze, searching Ogron's eyes for any sign of deceit, but found none. Slowly, he nodded, a small gesture of acceptance, though the uncertainty still lingered at the edges of his heart.
--
They continued like this for weeks , Ogron taking every precaution in dealing with Anagan, constantly replaying the servant's warning about rabbits in his mind. Prey animals are easily overwhelmed, he reminded himself. So, for the first time in his life, the king made himself smaller for someone. He became quieter, more unassuming, softer—but it felt different. Ogron couldn't quite comprehend who he was at that moment, but each time he saw Anagan's smile grow a little brighter, saw the light return to his eyes, something inside himself cracked. It was like a layer of something dark and heavy coating his heart was slowly peeling away, revealing something new underneath.
But in the quiet moments, when Anagan wasn't looking, Ogron could feel the old teachings clawing at the back of his mind. 'Strength comes from dominance,' the voice whispered, 'not from weakness.' He tried to push it away, to drown it out with thoughts of Anagan's smile, but it was persistent, gnawing at his resolve. 'You will be alone. You are weak.' A voice, despite all Ogron was doing to win back his Ana, spoke eerily in his mind. 'Take control, conquer him,' it would sometimes say. At times, he could not tell if this voice was his own, or the remnants of someone he lost long ago. He wondered if, perhaps, he'd been in the castle too long.
That night had been uneventful, but Ogron noticed a change in Anagan. He was more relaxed, more open. He spoke more, he sat closer to the king, and he seemed… happier.
"I was thinking… maybe we could get away for a bit. Just the two of us," Ogron suggested one evening as they sat together by the fireplace, the flames casting a warm, flickering light over their faces.
Anagan looked at him, curiosity sparking in his eyes. "Get away?"
"Yes," Ogron continued, his voice light and inviting. "I know you've always wanted to see Lynphea. The forests, the flowers… it's supposed to be beautiful this time of year. I thought it might be nice for us to visit, take some time to relax and just enjoy each other's company."
Anagan's eyes lit up at the mention of Lynphea, a place he had always dreamed of visiting but had never had the chance. The thought of exploring its lush forests and tranquil rivers with Ogron by his side was enticing, and he found himself nodding before he could stop himself.
"I'd like that," Anagan replied, a genuine smile spreading across his face. "I'd really like that."
Ogron's heart swelled at the sight of Anagan's smile, the warmth of it chasing away the lingering shadows of doubt that had been creeping into his mind. This was progress. This was a step in the right direction. They were mending, healing, and it was all Ogron had wanted.
He leaned in closer, his hand finding its way to Anagan's, squeezing gently. "Then it's settled. We'll leave tomorrow."
Anagan's smile widened, and for the first time in a long while, he felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe this was the start of something new, something better. Maybe they could rebuild what they had lost and come out of this stronger.
As they sat there, the warmth of the fire wrapping around them, Ogron felt a flicker of something he hadn't felt in years—a sense of contentment. And for a brief moment, the whispers in his mind fell silent.
They would go to Lynphea, explore the wonders of the natural world, and in the process, Ogron would show Anagan that he was still the man he had fallen in love with. And perhaps, just perhaps, they could both heal the wounds that had been inflicted, and start anew.
