Content Warning:
This arc contains depictions of toxic relationships, x 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.
The weeks since their return from Lynphea had settled into a routine. Ogron, the King, was busy from morning until late afternoon, attending to his duties, ensuring that everything in his kingdom ran smoothly. Anagan, on the other hand, spent his days exploring the castle, reading, and occasionally venturing into the gardens, but every evening was reserved for dinner with Ogron. It was a small ritual they'd grown fond of, a quiet time to reconnect after the day.
But tonight, the dining hall was empty, and Anagan was nowhere to be found. Ogron, puzzled, turned to a nearby servant.
"Where's Anagan?" Ogron asked, his voice holding a hint of concern. "Has he eaten?"
"He requested his meal in the library, Your Majesty," the servant replied. "He seemed very intent on some book he found."
Ogron's curiosity piqued, he made his way to the library. As he entered, the smell of fresh parchment and ink filled his senses. The room was warmly lit, the golden glow of the lamps casting soft shadows on the walls lined with bookshelves. There, at a table near the center, sat Anagan, engrossed in a large, old book, a plate of half-eaten food beside him.
Ogron's lips curled into a playful smile. "I don't mean to chastise you, but you're not exactly supposed to read and eat at the same time."
Anagan looked up, a sheepish grin spreading across his face as he closed the book slightly. "I'm sorry, but look!" He pushed the book toward Ogron, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "I found this cookbook, and some of the recipes use fruits and vegetables from Lynphea. I was thinking…maybe if you have the time, we could prepare dinner ourselves one night…together?"
For a moment, Ogron was caught off guard. He had never prepared his own meals before; that was always left to the servants. But the idea of spending such a personal moment with Anagan intrigued him. The thought of them working side by side, creating something together, made him feel… warm.
"I'll make time tomorrow evening," Ogron replied, his voice soft, a genuine smile warming his features.
Anagan's heart fluttered at the response. "Thank you," he said, the words almost a whisper as his cheeks flushed with a deep, rosy hue. There was something in Ogron's tone, in the way he looked at him, that made Anagan feel as though he was the only person in the world.
--
The next evening, Anagan could hardly contain his excitement. He found himself constantly glancing at the clock, waiting for Ogron to return. When the time finally came, Anagan was already in the kitchen, surrounded by the vibrant ingredients they had brought back from Lynphea.
As Anagan prepared for their cooking session, he found his mind wandering back to the king. The softness in Ogron's voice last night, the warmth in his smile—it was all so tender, so unlike the man he'd first known. Anagan's heart fluttered as he recalled the way Ogron had looked at him, as if he were precious.
He could almost feel Ogron's hand on his, guiding the knife through the vegetables, their fingers brushing together. The imagined touch was warm, reassuring, and it sent a pleasant shiver down his spine. Anagan closed his eyes, letting his mind drift further into the daydream.
He pictured Ogron's voice, low and gentle, whispering sweet words into his ear, words of affection and care. In his mind, the king's hand moved from his fingers to his arm, trailing up with a tenderness that made Anagan's breath catch. The warmth spread through him, making his skin tingle with anticipation.
And then, in his daydream, Ogron's hand found its way to his face, cupping his cheek with a touch so gentle it was almost reverent. Anagan leaned into it, feeling the love and protection radiating from Ogron, and for a moment, he let himself believe that this fantasy could be real.
He imagined the king's lips brushing against his, a soft, barely-there kiss that sent a surge of heat through his body. Anagan's heart raced, his entire being yearning for the king's touch, for the intimacy that seemed just within reach—
"Anagan?"
Ogron's voice pulled him back to reality. Anagan blinked, his eyes snapping open as he realized he'd been daydreaming. His cheeks flushed a deep crimson as he turned to see Ogron standing in the doorway, an amused smile playing on his lips.
"Lost in thought?" Ogron teased gently, stepping into the kitchen.
"Y-Yes, just thinking about…dinner," Anagan stammered, trying to hide the fact that his thoughts had been far more intimate than that.
Ogron didn't press further, though a knowing glint flickered in his eyes. "Alright then, shall we start?"
Anagan nodded, grateful for the distraction. He handed Ogron a knife, explaining the process as they began to prepare the ingredients together.
--
As they worked, the kitchen filled with the sound of knives against cutting boards, the sizzling of vegetables as they hit the hot pan, and the occasional burst of laughter when Ogron's attempts didn't quite go as planned. There were moments when Anagan's fingers would lightly touch Ogron's as he adjusted his grip, guiding him with gentle patience.
In one of those moments, as Anagan reached over to show Ogron a different technique, their faces were mere inches apart. The warmth of Anagan's breath tickled Ogron's cheek, and for a brief second, the world around them seemed to blur. Ogron's heart beat a little faster, and he realized just how close they had grown, not just physically but emotionally.
But as the evening progressed, there was a small mishap. Anagan, still a little flustered from his earlier daydream and perhaps a bit too comfortable with the knife, accidentally nicked his finger. He winced, pulling his hand back as a small drop of blood appeared.
"Ah! I wasn't paying attention…" Anagan muttered, embarrassed.
Ogron was by his side in an instant, his expression turning serious as he took Anagan's hand. "Let me take care of that."
He led Anagan to the sink, rinsing the small cut with cool water before grabbing a first aid kit from a nearby cabinet. His movements were calm and deliberate as he cleaned the wound, applying a bandage with the utmost care.
"It's just a small cut," Ogron said softly, his thumb gently brushing over the bandage once it was secure. "But I don't want you to get hurt, not even a little."
Anagan looked up at Ogron, his heart swelling with emotion. The way Ogron tended to him, so tenderly and without hesitation, made him feel deeply cherished.
"Thank you," Anagan whispered, his voice thick with gratitude. "I didn't mean to make a mess of things."
Ogron's eyes softened as he gazed at Anagan. "It's not a mess. It's a reminder that we're doing this together, learning together. And I'm glad to be here with you."
They returned to their cooking, the atmosphere now filled with a comfortable warmth. There were more touches, more shared smiles, as they finished preparing their meal. The bond between them felt stronger, more intimate, with each passing minute.
--
Later, they sat down at a small table near the kitchen, their dinner spread out before them. The meal was simple, yet delicious, a testament to their combined efforts. As they ate, the conversation flowed easily, their laughter ringing out in the cozy kitchen.
"This was a wonderful evening," Ogron said as he placed his fork down, his gaze lingering on Anagan. "I'm glad we did this."
"Me too," Anagan replied, his heart full as he looked back at Ogron. "It's been a special night."
As the night drew to a close, the connection between them had deepened in a way that words couldn't fully capture. The simple act of cooking together, of caring for one another, had brought them closer, laying the foundation for something even more profound.
--
That night, as Anagan lay in bed, he found himself replaying the evening's events in his mind. A The warmth of Ogron's touch, the softness in his eyes, the way he had cared for him—it all made Anagan feel cherished, loved even. And as he drifted off to sleep, his last thoughts were of Ogron, and the quiet hope that this was just the beginning of something beautiful.
