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, implied sexual content, Please proceed with caution if these themes may be triggering for you. Your well-being comes first.
The dawn was just beginning to creep over the horizon, casting long shadows across the garden where Ogron and Anagan had fallen asleep in each other's arms. The peacefulness of the night was fading, giving way to the harsh light of reality.
Ogron stirred first, the cool morning air pulling him from a restless sleep. As he blinked awake, the events of the night before replayed in his mind. His heart, which had been so full only hours ago, now felt heavy, weighed down by an unfamiliar, gnawing sensation—guilt.
He looked down at Anagan, who was still sleeping peacefully beside him, his face serene and content. A pang of something sharp twisted in Ogron's chest. He had never seen Anagan look so vulnerable, so open. It made him want to protect him, to shield him from the world's harshness. But it also made Ogron question himself, question everything that had happened between them.
For the first time in his life, Ogron was seeing people as more than tools or obstacles. He was seeing them as humans—fragile, complex, and deserving of more care than he had ever thought to give. This new awareness was unsettling, bringing with it the weight of all the lives he had taken, all the pain he had caused. It was as if the walls he had built around himself were crumbling, leaving him exposed to a flood of emotions he didn't know how to handle.
But what troubled him most was the thought that he might have hurt Anagan in a way that couldn't be undone.
Ogron carefully extricated himself from Anagan's embrace, not wanting to wake him. He needed space, needed to think. He stood and walked a few paces away, running a hand through his hair as he struggled with the thoughts racing through his mind.
Had he been sincere last night? He had felt sincere, but now, in the cold light of day, he wasn't so sure. Ogron had never been one to let emotions dictate his actions, and the intensity of what he felt for Anagan had taken him by surprise. What if, in the heat of the moment, he had let his desires cloud his judgment? What if he had pressured Anagan, even unintentionally?
The thought made his stomach churn.
Ogron leaned against a tree, his hand pressed to his forehead as he tried to make sense of the conflicting emotions swirling inside him. He had never felt so out of control, so uncertain of himself. It was terrifying.
Anagan had seemed so eager, so willing. But what if that eagerness had been born out of something other than true desire? What if it had been a need to please him, to avoid disappointing him? The idea made Ogron's chest tighten with a mix of fear and shame.
He had always been able to detach himself from the consequences of his actions, to see people as pieces in a game where he was the master. But now, standing alone in the garden, Ogron couldn't shake the feeling that he had crossed a line, that he had taken something from Anagan that he couldn't give back.
He had seen Anagan as a person last night, had wanted to give him the tenderness he deserved. But what if, in doing so, he had unwittingly used him, just as he had used so many others in the past?
The guilt was overwhelming, almost suffocating. Ogron wasn't sure how to deal with it, wasn't sure if he even knew how to be the man Anagan deserved. He had never been good at expressing his emotions, at being open and vulnerable. Last night had been the first time he had ever let someone in so deeply, and now he was afraid that he had ruined it before it had even begun.
Ogron's mind was a storm of doubts. He wanted to go to Anagan, to wake him and ask if he was okay, if he regretted what had happened between them. But the fear of what Anagan might say, of the possibility that he had hurt him, kept him rooted to the spot.
He didn't know how to be sincere, how to be anything other than the cold, calculating leader he had always been. Last night had been different—he had felt different. But now, in the light of day, all he could see were the cracks in the person he thought he was becoming.
Ogron pressed his palms against his eyes, trying to block out the relentless barrage of self-doubt. He wasn't used to feeling this way, wasn't used to caring so much about how his actions affected someone else. It was a new kind of pain, one that cut deeper than any physical wound.
But he couldn't hide from it. He couldn't run from the guilt, from the responsibility of what he had done. He had to face it, had to face Anagan and figure out where they stood—if there was still a "they" to speak of.
Taking a deep breath, Ogron turned back toward the place where Anagan still lay sleeping. He felt like he was walking on the edge of a precipice, the ground beneath him fragile and uncertain. But he knew he couldn't avoid this, couldn't avoid Anagan.
As he approached, Ogron's steps slowed, his heart pounding in his chest. Anagan looked so peaceful, so untroubled by the fears that had gripped Ogron since he had woken. It made him hesitate, made him wonder if he should let Anagan sleep a little longer, let him have a few more moments of peace before they faced whatever was coming next.
But Ogron knew that delaying the inevitable wouldn't help. He had to know, had to understand what last night had meant to Anagan. He had to know if he had crossed a line, if he had hurt the person he cared about more than anyone else in the world.
He knelt beside Anagan, his hand hovering just above his shoulder, unsure if he should wake him or if he should let him rest. The doubt gnawed at him, a constant, insistent whisper that he wasn't good enough, that he didn't deserve the happiness he had found in Anagan's arms.
But then Anagan stirred, his eyes fluttering open, a sleepy smile spreading across his face as he saw Ogron kneeling beside him. "Morning," he murmured, his voice still thick with sleep, but filled with warmth and affection.
Ogron's breath caught in his throat. The smile, the affection—it was more than he felt he deserved. But he couldn't let himself get lost in it, not until he knew for sure.
"Anagan," Ogron began, his voice quiet, almost hesitant. "I need to talk to you about last night."
Anagan's smile faded slightly, concern creeping into his eyes as he sat up, sensing the seriousness in Ogron's tone. "What's wrong?" he asked, his voice gentle but laced with worry.
Ogron swallowed, forcing himself to meet Anagan's gaze. "I… I need to know if you're okay with what happened. If I… if I pressured you into something you didn't want."
Anagan's eyes widened in surprise, and then softened with understanding. He reached out, taking Ogron's hand in his, squeezing it gently. "Ogron," he said softly, "you didn't pressure me. I wanted it just as much as you did."
"But what if I wasn't being sincere?" Ogron pressed, his voice strained with the weight of his fears. "What if I was just… taking advantage of the situation, of your feelings for me?"
Anagan shook his head, his grip on Ogron's hand tightening. "You weren't. I know you, Ogron. I know that you care about me. Last night wasn't about power or control—it was about us. And I don't regret it."
Ogron searched Anagan's eyes, looking for any sign of doubt, of discomfort. But all he saw was sincerity, warmth, and love.
"You're not the man you used to be," Anagan continued, his voice steady and sure. "I've seen the change in you. You're starting to see people for who they are, not just what they can do for you. And that's why I trust you, why I believe in us."
Ogron felt a wave of relief wash over him, but the guilt still lingered at the edges, refusing to fully dissipate. "I just… I don't want to hurt you, Anagan. I don't want to be the kind of person who takes without giving anything back."
"You're not," Anagan said firmly, his eyes shining with emotion. "You've given me more than you realize. You've given me your trust, your vulnerability, your care. That's more than enough."
Ogron nodded slowly, his heart beginning to lift as Anagan's words sank in. He still had doubts, still had fears, but for the first time, he felt like he could face them—like he didn't have to carry the burden alone.
"I'm here for you, Ogron," Anagan whispered, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his forehead. "Whatever you're going through, we'll face it together. You don't have to do this alone."
Ogron closed his eyes, allowing himself to lean into Anagan's touch, to let the warmth of his affection seep into the cold, dark places inside him. He wasn't sure if he would ever be able to fully forgive himself for the things he had done, but with Anagan by his side, he felt like maybe, just maybe, he could learn to live with it.
As the sun continued to rise, bathing the garden in a soft, golden light, Ogron knew that the road ahead would be difficult, filled with challenges and doubts. But for the first time, he felt like he had someone to walk it with him—someone who understood him, who accepted him, flaws and all.
And that, Ogron realized, was more than he had ever dared to hope for.
