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

DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT

I AM PUTTING 3 WARNINGS ON THIS CHAPTER IT IS INTENSE PLEASE FOR ALL THAT IS HOLY SKIP THIS ONE IF YOURE SENSITIVE.

Sit, stay, here, beg—these were basic obedience tricks that Gantlos had been forced into for what felt like an eternity. He'd be lying if he said he didn't sometimes feel like a dog. Still, with what little resolve he had left, he tried to stay strong. Occasionally, he'd ask about Anagan, and to his surprise, the king would answer. For the past four nights, Anagan's condition updates had been his "reward" for obedience. He was also untethered more often, still locked up but at least able to stand.

The sound of the king's heels clicked down the dungeon steps, each one sending a small jolt through Gantlos. "Just a little longer," he sighed to himself. If he could just endure the humiliation a bit longer, maybe he'd get out of the dungeon. He braced for the usual degrading commands, but Ogron stood outside his cell with a strange look—a cool smile masking something far more dangerous.

"Oh, what a good dog, waiting for a command. Here, boy, come here~" Ogron tugged lightly on the tether attached to Gantlos's collar.

"Are you taking me on walks now?" Gantlos asked sarcastically, trying to mask his unease.

"Hmm? No, not today. Today is a test of obedience. I need your assistance—but you'll have to do as I say." Something was off—the king's expression was bored, but his body language, his eyes, his voice—they all hinted at tension.

Gantlos prepared himself, but nothing could have prepared him for what he saw next.

The cell closer to the stairwell was different from his own. There was a tub full of clean water, a few disturbing objects laid out on a bench, but what caught Gantlos's eye was Anagan. His shirt was neatly folded at his side, his eyes blindfolded, and his mouth gagged. Ropes bound his wrists and ankles, leaving scarlet marks on his skin.

"What…is this?" Gantlos's fists clenched as he tried to remain calm.

"It's a test—and a punishment. You see, Ana doll is feeling better~, but during his sickness, he got a tad… what's the word? Defiant. If he'd only argued, I'd handle this alone, but he struck me." Ogron sighed dramatically. "And physical disobedience has physical consequences."

In Ogron's hand gleamed a hot iron, its heart-shaped tip glowing red.

"You… you can't honestly expect me to—"

"I need to be convinced of your obedience and his loyalty. This is a lesson in love," Ogron said as he caressed Anagan's bare torso possessively.

"I'm..mm gonna be okay…" Anagan's voice was slurred, the love potion clearly affecting him.

"Dreamscape…" Gantlos muttered under his breath, his mind reeling. Ogron raised an eyebrow, intrigued. Gantlos may have been smart enough to figure out a love potion was in play, but to know the full name of it…

"Do it, right in the middle of his chest, on this beautiful canvas before you." Ogron returned the gag to Anagan's mouth.

"I… I can't do this."

"Oh, I could do it," Ogron's voice grew cold, "but it wouldn't be as…gentle." He leaned down, cooing in a voice as sweet as honey, "It'll be okay, little rabbit. The big doggy will only hurt you a little, then I'm sure we'll have learned our lesson."

Anagan squirmed in his bindings, his breath quickening. Gantlos stared at him—there was no way out.

"…must I do this myself —"

"I'll do it," Gantlos said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. He held the iron shakily, grazing the tip across Anagan's chest, drawing a small whimper from behind the gag.

"That's cute~,but do it properly," Ogron said, his annoyance creeping in.

Gantlos hesitated, but when Ogron rose to his feet, Gantlos knew there was no choice. He shut his eyes and pressed the hot iron down firmly.

"MMGGG! NNN!" Anagan's scream ripped through the dungeon, muffled by the gag, his body convulsing in agony.

"That's it, bunny. You're taking it so well~," Ogron crooned, gripping Gantlos's arm to hold the iron in place. The sound of sizzling flesh filled the room. Gantlos flinched, barely holding back tears as he followed Ogron's next command: "Rub it in."

With a trembling hand, Gantlos rubbed the burn harshly, deepening the brand, while Anagan's body jerked and his breath came in ragged gasps. When the metal finally cooled, Gantlos pulled it away, the brand seared deep into Anagan's chest. The iron was pulled back with a wet noise.

"Oh don't relax yet, doggy, he struck me after all— I don't intend to let it go." Ogron's eyes gleamed with cruel intent as he revealed a set of heavy leather straps, a bundle of whips, and a wooden paddle. "Anagan's little moment of clarity and defiance needs to be addressed.

"You'll be using these tools to administer a proper correction."

Gantlos's heart sank. The implements were a far cry from the hot iron but no less disturbing.

Gantlos swallowed hard, trying to steady his shaking hands.

Ogron's smile was cold as he handed Gantlos the leather straps. "You'll begin with these. Start with his back. Make sure to use them firmly but controlled. We want him to remember this lesson." The king removed the gag, sobs and agony poured from Anagan's mouth.

Gantlos hesitated, then drew the straps back and delivered a measured stroke to Anagan's back. The sound of leather cracking against flesh echoed through the dungeon. Anagan's body flinched, a pained cry escaping his lips.

"More," Ogron instructed, his tone clinical. "Make sure the punishment is thorough."

Gantlos continued, his strikes more deliberate and measured, each one making Anagan's cries grow louder. The rhythmic sound of the leather against skin mixed with Anagan's pleas, creating an agonizing symphony of distress.

After a while, Ogron signaled for Gantlos to switch to the paddle. The paddle was broad and solid, designed to deliver a stinging impact. Gantlos lifted it, his heart heavy with the weight of what he was about to do. Each swat was met with Anagan's yelps of pain and shuddering gasps.

The final stage involved the whips. Ogron's eyes followed Gantlos's every move, his face a mask of cold satisfaction. "Ensure every strike counts. We're not just punishing; we're teaching a lesson."

Gantlos took up the whips, the weight of the punishment pressing heavily on him. Each lash left marks on Anagan's skin, a combination of raw pain and humiliation. Anagan's cries were almost desperate now, his body slumped in exhaustion but still bound in place.

After the punishment was complete, Anagan's breathing was ragged, his body covered in red welts and marks. Ogron's gaze softened with false concern as he approached Anagan, patting his head with a patronizing touch.

The dungeon's atmosphere was thick with the acrid smell of sweat and blood. Anagan, still bound and weak, lay slumped in his binds. His body was marked with bruises and welts from the recent punishment. Gantlos stood nearby, his face pale and his hands trembling as he stared at the array of implements used.

Ogron sauntered around the cell with an air of satisfaction, his eyes gleaming with malicious delight. "Well, well, look at my little rabbit," he crooned, crouching beside Anagan. His touch was unsettlingly gentle as he caressed Anagan's battered skin. "Such a poor, suffering creature. And you, my dear Gantlos, have done such a marvelous job."

Gantlos's gaze dropped to the floor, unable to meet Anagan's pained eyes. Ogron, still in high spirits, turned to Gantlos with a twisted grin. "Now, let's add a final touch to this lesson. I want you to make sure Anagan's wounds are well and truly acknowledged. You see, Gantlos, the wounds need to be tended to, but they also need to be felt. I want you to touch each one, feel the weight of what you've done, and make sure Anagan understands that this is a result of his disobedience."

Gantlos hesitated, his breath catching in his throat. Ogron's eyes were fixed on him with an almost sadistic anticipation. "Go on, touch them. Feel every welt and bruise. Make sure they're properly understood."

With a trembling hand, Gantlos approached Anagan, who flinched at his touch. Gantlos's fingers lightly brushed over the inflamed marks on Anagan's back. Each contact seemed to deepen Anagan's distress, his body tensing in reaction.

Ogron watched with a mixture of satisfaction and cruelty. "Oh, my dear Anagan," he said, voice dripping with false sympathy. "It's all for your own good. You need to remember your place, and Gantlos here needs to understand the consequences of actions."

Gantlos tried to be as gentle as possible, but the act of touching the wounds was both physically and emotionally agonizing. Anagan's whimpers made Gantlos's heart ache, yet he forced himself to continue.

Ogron smiled cruelly. "Now, make it better. Lick it clean and kiss it to soothe the pain. Show him how much you care."

Gantlos's heart ached as he reluctantly brought his tongue to the burn, the taste of singed flesh turning his stomach. Anagan whimpered softly beneath him, and Gantlos's hands shook as he kissed the burn, trying to comfort him in the only way he could.

"That's right, just like that," Ogron purred, watching with sadistic delight. "Make sure he knows you're caring for him."

Ogron cooed sweetly as he petted Anagan's head, his fingers threading through the matted hair. "My poor little rabbit. You've been so brave. And you, my dear Gantlos, are learning your place."

Gantlos continued kissing the burn, his lips trembling as he moved over the charred skin. The contrast between his gentle touch and the violence he had just inflicted left him feeling hollow and broken.

"Keep going, give the poor bunny lots of love," Ogron whispered, his hands roaming over Anagan's body, listening to the soft whimpers that escaped Anagan's lips.

"Tell us how good it felt," Ogron murmured into Anagan's ear. "Tell us how much you deserved it, and we'll stop."

Gantlos's stomach twisted as he continued, helpless to stop the madness.

"I… I deserved it," Anagan rasped, his voice cracking. "I deserved more... pain than this."

"Did you love it when he hurt you?"

"Yes… yes, I loved it… please…"

Ogron smirked, placing the gag back in Anagan's mouth. He turned to Gantlos. "One last thing—touch him sweetly."

Gantlos let his hands graze over Anagan's skin, feeling more like a puppet than a person. Ogron kissed his cheek, whispering, "Good boy. You're both very good boys." Ogron turned to leave.

"...Aren't you going to untie him...?"Gantlos asked weakly, his spirit barely holding on.

"After I'm done with my work," Ogron said with a smirk. "For now, I want you to look at what you've done…something tells me a little puppy went snooping around the other day…"

The cell locked behind him, and Gantlos found that he literally couldn't turn his head or close his eyes. He had to watch Anagan writhe in pain, every whimper echoing in his ears.

His gut churned with hatred for the king.

———-

The water was warm, almost too warm, as it lapped gently against the sides of the tub. Steam swirled lazily in the air, filling the cell with a heavy humidity that seemed to cling to the skin. Ogron's hand moved slowly, dipping into the water and stirring it idly, his touch soft, deliberate.

"Come, Gantlos," Ogron purred, his voice low and sweet. "You've had a long day, haven't you? You deserve to relax."

Gantlos stood by the edge of the tub, staring down at Anagan, who was already lying against the curved edge, eyes half-lidded, his chest rising and falling slowly with shallow breaths. His body was limp, exhausted from the punishment earlier, and his mind seemed to swim in and out of some semblance of clarity.

Gantlos didn't fight. There was no point. Not anymore. He climbed into the tub beside Anagan, settling into the water with a low exhale. His muscles ached, his mind was numb. The guilt weighed heavy on him, but he couldn't bring himself to push back. Not here. Not now. It would be bad for Anagan.

Anagan stirred slightly at his side, his head lolling to the side as he mumbled something incoherent. His lips trembled, words slurring together, barely audible. "… 'm not mad," he muttered, his voice thick with exhaustion. "Not mad…"

Gantlos's heart clenched. He wanted to reach out, to comfort Anagan, to tell him it wasn't his fault. But the words stuck in his throat. Ogron's presence loomed over them both, and Gantlos knew better than to say anything.

Ogron smiled, his fingers sliding through the water to trace along Anagan's arm. "Of course you're not, my sweet Ana," he whispered, his voice dripping with false tenderness. "You've been such a good boy. Both of you."

He moved his hand to Gantlos's shoulder, squeezing it gently as if offering praise. "You too, Gantlos. You did so well today. You both made me so proud."

Gantlos closed his eyes, the words washing over him like poison. He could feel Ogron's fingers tracing patterns on his skin, but he didn't react. There was no point. Anagan shifted again, his body trembling as he tried to lift his head, his eyes blinking blearily.

"Ogron…," Anagan mumbled, his voice fragile. "Why…amm I hurting..?"

Ogron chuckled softly, stroking Anagan's damp hair back from his forehead. "Shh, don't worry yourself with questions, darling," he cooed. "You're tired, I know. You've been through so much. But it's over now. I'm here to take care of you."

Anagan's eyelids fluttered, and he let out a small, pained breath. He was slipping in and out of consciousness, his body giving in to the exhaustion that gripped him. Gantlos glanced at him, feeling a surge of helplessness rise in his chest.

Ogron's fingers grazed over the burn on Anagan's chest, the brand still fresh and raw. He traced the edges of it with almost a sense of admiration, his lips curling into a satisfied smile. "Such beautiful work," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of the water. "It suits you, Ana."

Anagan whimpered softly, his body twitching in response to the touch, but he didn't pull away. His mind was too clouded, too far gone. Ogron's fingers lingered on the burn for a moment longer before he pulled back, turning his gaze to Gantlos.

"And you, Gantlos…" Ogron's eyes gleamed with amusement as he tilted his head. "Wouldn't you like one too?"

Gantlos tensed, his hands gripping the edge of the tub. His mind screamed to resist, but his body refused to move. He couldn't respond, couldn't think, couldn't breathe. Ogron's hand was on his shoulder again, squeezing gently, almost as if coaxing him into agreement.

"I think it would be fitting," Ogron continued, his tone soft, coaxing. "A matching mark. You've earned it, haven't you? My loyal dog…"

Gantlos felt the words sink deep into his bones, and he shuddered, trying to suppress the rising panic. His eyes flickered toward Anagan, who was barely conscious, his chest still rising and falling weakly. Gantlos couldn't let it happen. He couldn't let Ogron take everything from him. But still, he said nothing.

Ogron leaned in closer, his breath warm against Gantlos's ear. "Don't you want to please me?"

The words twisted in Gantlos's gut, and he clenched his fists tighter. Ogron was toying with him, playing his sick, twisted games just because he could. And Gantlos, powerless and broken, could do nothing to stop him.

"You've both been so good for me," Ogron whispered, his lips brushing against the shell of Gantlos's ear. "So obedient. My perfect boys."

He pulled back, his smile sickeningly sweet as he watched them both. Anagan's breathing had slowed, his body relaxing further into the water as he drifted closer to unconsciousness. Gantlos, on the other hand, was trapped in a nightmare he couldn't escape from.

Ogron's hand traced down Gantlos's arm, sending chills through his skin. "I'll take care of you both," he promised, his voice lilting, as if he were speaking to children. "You don't need to worry about anything. Just leave it all to me."

——

As he was placed back into his cell, the only thing he could feel was anger. A sudden resolve washed over him.

"Now don't make ugly faces, in a way this was a punishment for you as well, after all, you couldn't have known about that potion, especially by name unless a little puppy left his cell the other day, but at least now we've learned a new trick— "stay". "Ogrons laughter sent heat through him. A burning fire —

"What the hell is the dragon flame?"