Content warning: This arc contains graphic depictions of violence, strong language, physical abuse, psychological abuse, mind breaking, implied drugs (love potions) and involuntary violence. If any of these themes are triggering to you, please read with caution. Your mental wellbeing comes first.

The king's patience was wearing thin. The closeness between Gantlos and his Ana doll was becoming intolerable. That was his little rabbit, his alone. The idea of Anagan seeking the attention of someone else, especially after all the influence Ogron had put over him, was absolutely preposterous. His little rabbit had no need for anyone else—he had Ogron, and that should have been enough.

Meanwhile, Gantlos had been spending his days with Anagan, not out of romantic interest but out of a growing sense of friendship. At first, Anagan seemed almost incapable of talking about anything other than the king, as if his mind revolved solely around Ogron. But slowly, very slowly, Gantlos began to break through the fog that clouded Anagan's thoughts.

Their conversations started to take a different turn. They discussed Gantlos's farm, the vegetation he tended to, and the reason he abstained from eating meat—a decision rooted in his respect for life, especially since he had a pet cow. Anagan seemed to come alive during these talks, his eyes brightening with a spark of curiosity that had been long buried under the king's influence. But every evening, it was like a switch was flipped, and Anagan would return to that lifeless state, his mind seemingly locked away once more.

--

On this particular day, the king returned home earlier than expected. He had pressing business that couldn't wait, but before attending to it, he intended to play with his little Ana doll. He'd been frustrated at his little rabbit, and intended to let out that frustration. Yet, to his irritation, Anagan was not in their room, nor in the washroom. Where on earth could he have gone?

Ogron's irritation simmered just below the surface as he summoned a servant. The poor soul trembled under the king's gaze, fear evident in their every movement. "Where is Ana?" Ogron demanded.

"H-he's having lunch with sir Gantlos, Your Majesty," the servant stammered.

The king's eyes narrowed in disbelief. Lunch with Gantlos? What business did his rabbit have with the farmer? His mind raced with possibilities, none of which he liked. Anagan should have been here, waiting for him, eager for his attention. Anagan should fall to his feet and beg for his touch. Not out socializing with someone else. Rage began to simmer in his core, love potions weren't without risks, they were love potions, not loyalty potions after all, what if—

"And how has he been?" Ogron inquired, his tone dangerously calm.

The servant hesitated, sensing the king's rising temper. "He…he seems to glow during the day, my lord. He's been… happier."

The king's expression darkened. This was not what he wanted to hear. He didn't have time for this. Work needed to be done, and this nonsense with Anagan and Gantlos would have to be dealt with later. With a growl of frustration, he shoved the servant aside, sending them sprawling to the ground. He left the castle with gritted teeth, the image of Anagan laughing with Gantlos seared into his mind.

————-

It was late in the evening, the sun long gone, and Gantlos found himself restless. Sleep eluded him, and after tossing and turning for what felt like hours, he decided to take a walk. Initially, he intended to head in the opposite direction of the king's quarters, wanting to clear his mind, but muffled voices drew his attention.

He hesitated, straining to make out the words. The voices grew clearer as he approached the king's quarters. One voice, angry and commanding, made his blood run cold. It was the king's grating tone, sharp with dominance. But it was the other voice, barely audible and trembling, that made Gantlos quicken his pace.

"Well, answer me, you stupid whore! Why on earth would you possibly be spending so much time out of the bedroom? Are you throwing yourself at anyone who could give you attention!?" Ogron's voice was venomous, dripping with disdain.

"No..no, I just m…thought—" Anagan's response was weak, his words slurred as if he were struggling to form a coherent sentence.

"That is the problem! You do not think unless I tell you to think!" Ogron's words were a harsh reprimand, and Gantlos could hear the sound of something being knocked over, perhaps in the heat of the king's anger.

"I'm sorry…I'm sorry." Anagan's voice was barely above a whisper, shaking with fear and something else—desperation, perhaps. Gantlos felt his heart clench at the sound.

He rounded the corner just in time to see Anagan, tears streaming down his cheeks, looking utterly broken. His eyes were glassy, filled with a deep sorrow that made Gantlos's stomach churn. The tears seemed to fall without his permission, as if disappointing the king was the worst possible thing in the world.

Ogron, towering over him, sighed in what almost sounded like regret, though Gantlos wasn't fooled. The king's voice softened, but it was a twisted kind of softness, more chilling than comforting. "I suppose you're not exactly yourself. I'll have to keep stricter reins on you. Possibly more locks on the door."

The implications of the king's words were clear, and Gantlos's fists clenched at his sides. He could see the control Ogron had over Anagan, the way the man was completely under the king's thumb, and it made his blood boil.

As he turned to leave, Gantlos silently vowed that he wouldn't let Anagan suffer alone. Not anymore.

———-

The following day Gantlos made his way through the dim corridors of the castle, searching for Anagan. It didn't take him long to find the man sitting in the library, staring vacantly ahead, not reading any of the books surrounding him. Gantlos sighed inwardly. This was not the first time he'd found Anagan like this—withdrawn, his mind seemingly elsewhere. Gantlos sat across from him, determined to draw him out again.

"Hey there," he greeted softly, "what're you doin' sittin' here alone?"

Anagan blinked, slowly focusing on Gantlos. His response was sluggish, as if he were fighting through a haze. "I was waiting… for him."

Gantlos's heart sank. "The king again, huh?"

"Yes…" Anagan's face lit up. "He's everything to me. I can't bear to be apart from him. You don't understand, Gantlos, he's—he's perfect."

The farmer tried to mask his frustration. "Ain't there more to life than jus' waitin' around for him, Anagan? Just last week you were talking about so much more."

Anagan blinked again, struggling, as if grasping at the remnants of himself. "I did… didn't I?" He rubbed his temples. "What was it I liked again?"

"Plants," Gantlos reminded him. "You told me about all the ones back on Earth. We were just talkin' about them the other day, remember?"

Anagan's expression softened, a small spark returning to his eyes. "Yeah… I remember. The ones in Lynphea were beautiful, too."

They spoke for a while about vegetation and Gantlos's farm. It seemed to do the trick, drawing Anagan's attention away from his obsession with the king. But as the conversation flowed, a cold air suddenly filled the room. Gantlos looked up to see Ogron standing in the doorway, his eyes glinting dangerously.

"Ana doll," Ogron said in a deceptively soft voice, "I thought I told you to wait here for me—alone."

Anagan straightened up instantly. "I did, my love! Gantlos just wanted some conversation… I can't be rude to your friends."

Ogron's expression shifted slightly at that, a satisfied smile curling on his lips. "Of course. You're always so considerate." He glanced over at Gantlos, his eyes narrowing. "As long as that's all you're doing."

Gantlos straightened, "And what an all seven layers of hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Oh nothing, but…I have to wonder… what exactly were you two discussing, hmm?" He turned to Gantlos, his tone sharper now. "What business do you have being so close to my little rabbit? Perhaps I've underestimated your intentions."

Gantlos stiffened at the implication, "I beg your pardon?"

The king's lips twitched in irritation. "Anagan hasn't been himself lately, farmer. I don't need him getting distracted by… trivial things."

Gantlos crossed his arms, meeting the king's gaze without flinching. "I ain't stupid. I know what you're insinuating, and I don't take kindly to it."

Ogron's sneer deepened. " I don't mean to offend , but…Maybe it's not just idle talk you're after. You seek him out, linger about him, just a bit too much for my taste. What else could you be wanting, besides his attention?" His voice turned harsh. "Or is it something more… intimate?"

Gantlos felt a surge of anger. His fists clenched at his sides. "I ain't that kind of man, your Majesty."

The way he spat the title was a challenge, daring Ogron to push him further.

"I don't care what kind of man you are," Ogron sneered, his voice dripping with malice, "but what I do know is that Ana belongs to me. His thoughts, his body, all of him. And you have no right to interfere."

Gantlos took a step forward, his eyes burning with righteous anger. "Anagan ain't some possession for you to claim like a piece of furniture," he said through gritted teeth. "And I don't like the way you treat him."

Ogron's face darkened. "Is that so? I'll have you know Ana is my little rabbit , and I care for him as no one else can."

Gantlos shook his head, his voice steady but filled with frustration. "Man to man, try to find an honest bone in your body, Ogron. You treat him like he's somethin' you own, not someone you care about. You ever stop to wonder what he really wants, or is it all about your control? I reckon if you asked him, and truly asked him, you wouldn't be the answer."

Ogron's lips curled into a snarl. "You dare lecture me about love? Ana is mine. I love him—"

Gantlos's gaze didn't waver. "If you really love him, why'd you make him cry?"

The question sliced through the room, leaving a cold, tense silence in its wake. Ogron's smile vanished, replaced by a flash of fury in his eyes.

"What did you just say?" Ogron hissed, stepping closer to Gantlos.

"I heard you two the other night," Gantlos said, his voice hard. "The way you spoke to him, the way he was cryin' after. You call that love?"

Ogron's grip on Anagan's arm tightened, and Anagan winced in discomfort, though he said nothing.

Gantlos didn't back down, his voice now filled with conviction. "I don't like bein' here, but what I really don't like is seein' him treated like this. You think you're foolin' people with your sweet words and fancy titles, but I see through you. Somethin' ain't right with you, Ogron. You're rotten to the core." he leaned down his face inches away from the king's, "You're a bad apple, and the thing about bad apples? They ruin the whole bunch."

Ogron's face twisted in rage, his chest rising and falling with barely-contained fury. But instead of shouting, his expression changed into something more sinister. Slowly, a cold, calculated smile spread across his face.

"Well, farmer," he said, voice low and dangerous, "if you're so eager to protect him, why don't we settle this like men?"

Gantlos narrowed his eyes. "What're you gettin' at?"

"I propose a wager," Ogron said smoothly. "If you're so sure I'm not the man Ana doll needs, why don't we make it interesting? We'll duel. If you win, you can take him with you. You'll both be free to go back to your simple little life on Earth."

Gantlos frowned. "And reckon I lose?"

The king's smile turned dark. "Then you'll join the Black Circle, we could use a loyal, strong dog"

There was something twisted in the way Ogron said the word "dog," like he wasn't speaking figuratively. But seeing the glassy haze returning to Anagan's eyes, Gantlos knew he couldn't leave him like this.

Gantlos extended his hand. "Fine. Tomorrow at dawn."

Ogron gripped Gantlos's hand with a predatory smile. "A bet it is, then. How…fun."