Guess who's back! I lost some motivation for this fic for a while, but, partly in an effort to improve my mental health, i'm back to working on it and trying to make more regular updates rather than just scrolling Youtube all evening. So, I hope you enjoy!

At some point in the night, the emotional toll of the situation had acted as a mental sedative, sending all three wizards into a deep, hopefully healing slumber, leaving them curled up together on the floor until the clanking of armour started to prod at Ogron's consciousness, politely suggesting that maybe he might like to wake up, maybe open his eyes, just one eye, c'mon…c'mon, he'd feel better… When its suggestions were shoved into the suggestion box, then shoved into the trash, the noise opted to screw politeness and simply snatch him from sleep with a louder clanking right past his cell.

With a soft groan, he finally pried his eyes open, blinking hazily around in the increasingly bright light as the lights were flipped on, asserting to all that it was morning, not that anyone condemned to the dungeons would know. Strange that this, the flipping on and off of fluorescent lights would be his only connection to the movements of the sun and moon, his only indication of what the free people of the universe might be doing beyond these walls.

He had been asleep with his head resting on Gantlos's chest, a slight indent forming in his cheek from the button in Gantlos's shirt. He could feel the steady rise and fall of Gantlos's breathing, slow, steady, comforting. Gantlos was still sleeping, and Ogron couldn't blame him. He'd been exerting far more energy over the past couple days than him and Anagan, and the realisation that they were mortal now had hit him incredibly hard. He needed some rest. And a hug. And thankfully he was now receiving both.

'…He actually looks peaceful for the first time in…..'

'Forever?'

Anagan nodded, both men keeping their voices to breathless whispers. 'Yeah…' Anagan looked exhausted, even with the long sleep their cuddle had permitted, his eyes haggard and gaze strained. Anagan knew what it was to be mortal, but that didn't make his new state any less shocking and hard to cope with. Not to mention that Anagan was used to being able to help, to do something, anything, even if it were as simple as putting a band-aid over a cut, just a simple act to ease the pain of a situation or make it better in whatever way. But their dead cores were a problem he couldn't even hope to ease. Their magic was gone, and there was nothing anyone could ever do about it. And it made Anagan visibly miserable.

This would usually be the moment where, if the roles were reversed, Anagan would have some very helpful or reassuring thing to say, have a hug to offer, or some other secret, helpful remedy for sadness known only to him and his sweet soul. Ogron's soul was less sweet and helpful, and more like…like bitter coffee full of broken glass. But he'd never let his own personality stop him before. Well, he had, anxiety was a frequent obstacle, but not the point.

'…We'll be okay…' he whispered, just loud enough for Anagan to hear. He prayed for no follow up questions, as he was very much aware this was a desperate lie, and, to his eternal credit, Anagan didn't force him to scramble for a justification of his statement. Just nodded and offered a tired smile.

'…Yeah…'

'If you two think you're being quiet enough that you won't wake me up, you haven't got ears…'

Ogron winced as Gantlos sat up, rubbing his eyes tiredly. 'Sorry…'

''S'fine…the lights are on, I should be up anyway.' He rolled his eyes, muttering. 'Not sure what for, but I should be up…' Ogron had to concur. Now that they were locked up, what was there to wake up for, really? Aside from each other. That was really his only reason to open his eyes now. Though, really…the others had been his only reason to open his eyes for months now, the only reason he didn't wholly want to die in Neruman's cell, they were his reason to keep opening his eyes every morning.

'So……..' Ogron realised a few too many ellipses into that not-quite-a-sentence that he didn't have an end to it. He was just trying to fill the silence, to block out the overwhelming roar of yesterday's revelation in his ears.

'…The trial's today…' Anagan said quietly, and Ogron wished they could return to silence. The trial…dammit, in all the heart-shattering of yesterday, it had somehow slipped his mind. Which, he supposed, had been his objective for a while, to put it out of his mind, but all its absence served to do was make its return hit all the harder. His eyes were red and puffy from crying, his breath still hitching slightly from the emotional toll of last night, and in a few hours he was to appear before the king and have his fate decided. He was in no fit state to do son, but they certainly wouldn't listen to him; this trial was not set based on his personal convenience. It was hard to think of anything that was, everything was on his captor's schedules now.

Speaking of which…

'Breakfast.' A tray was slid under the bars, the same food as yesterday, the same brusque, uninterested delivery. It wasn't bad food…it was worlds and worlds better than a single thing they'd been fed by Neruman, and Ogron even enjoyed some of it, but there was something very unpleasant about it all the same. The knowledge that his sustenance was being gifted to him by people that had a great many reasons to hate him, and could choose to cut it off whenever they chose…that was deeply unpleasant a situation to contemplate.

'…We got apples this morning,' Anagan remarked, as though the presence of an evil queen's murder weapon was somehow the most pressing thing to talk about. Though it blatantly was not, Ogron opted to reply anyway, as every single topic more pressing than this was quite certain to drive him into a moderately severe panic attack.

'Mmmmmmmhmmmmmm…' His response skills hadn't woken up yet, apparently. He picked up the apple in question, likely intending to eat it, but his plan opted to join his mind as it went wandering on a scenic little jaunt towards the smouldering heap of worries inhabiting the back corners of his mind, leaving him twirling and twisting the stem, contemplating what he was even supposed to say later. Was he supposed to speak? Were they receiving a lawyer? Would anyone be bothered to represent someone like them? It'd be foolhardy for any self-respecting attorney to represent them, really. Trying to win a case for them would be like shooting a hole in your raft and trying to win a boating race. Though it wasn't really a trial to determine guilt…no, this was only to sentence them. At least, he thought so. He really didn't know all that much about this trial. But technically, he'd already issued a confession of all his crimes, over a year ago when he'd got down on his knees before the Winx and surrendered. Oh, how his pride had hated him in that moment…how he'd hated kneeling to anyone. What a prideful, arrogant man he'd been. Or was it confident? The two often intermingled. All he knew was that he'd far preferred being that version of himself, and yet, had this version of him walked onto Tir Na N'og on the day of justice, he'd have bowed his head and taken his punishment however Morgana deemed fair, and got out of there with all his friends.

He'd spoken very smoothly at that trial…suave and silky in his manipulation. But he hadn't tried to defend himself, he'd tried to play a part. Could he defend himself today, defend his friends? He could defend them when it came to what they'd done under Neruman, but could he defend the crimes that had had them condemned to frozen hell?

'You gonna eat that, or just snap its neck?' Gantlos asked sarcastically, snapping Ogron from his musings and back to the apple whose stem he'd rather mangled by now.

'C'mon, you need to get your blood sugar up if you're gonna make it through today,' Anagan advised, pushing the apple closer and easing his hand from the stem. 'Eat up.'

Ogron obliged, the crisp bites attempting to block out the thoughts flocking and flapping through his mind like a swarm of aggressive bats. They were frankly insistent, and the snap of the apple's flesh did nigh on nothing to block them out.

Anagan watched him worriedly, gaze flicking around in evident search of something, anything to distract him. What he ultimate settled on was admittedly, kind of weak. But it sort of worked. '…Hey…look, a cat.'

Ogron was fairly uninterested, he'd seen the cat before. Likely down there to catch any rats that snuck in, as Solaria apparently cared if its prisoners were nibbled on by vermin.

'Mm…nice. Cat. Do you think we're getting a lawyer - does Solaria actually even give the right to a fair trial?'

Anagan and Gantlos exchanged a look. Ogron knew that look. That was the 'Ogron's spiralling, do something' look. He knew it well. He knew it so well that, were his parents not dead or gone, he'd have introduced it to his parents and married it by now.

'…Ogron…it's gonna be okay.' That wasn't an answer to his question. Just Gantlos (probably) lying to him.

'You sure I can't interest you in the cat?' Anagan sighed as Ogron returned to his stem twizzling and worry.

'Anagan, enough with the cat…' Gantlos sighed.

'I mentioned it twice.' Apparently, that had been enough to set the cat's ears burning, as it wandered over with the air that most cats held: superiority, and slight disdain for everything around them. That, and the anticipation of affection.

'Great, now you've summoned it.' Gantlos glowered at the furry little thing. 'Shoo. You're not under arrest, go away.'

'Maybe it is…' Ogron mused, not looking up from his apple stem. 'Maybe it's a criminal mastermind and just as trapped down here as we are.'

'Then it wouldn't be wandering around,' Gantlos rebuffed, watching it with more apprehension than a house pet really warranted.

'They couldn't be bothered to rework the bars,' Anagan chipped in, and Ogron nodded.

'Precisely. It's a…a…fur-lon.'

Anagan stifled a snort of laughter, while Gantlos just facepalmed. 'Guys…I'm stuck down here forever…please don't turn the rest of my life into cat puns.'

Ogron exchanged a glance with Anagan. It was one of those beautiful, unspoken moments where they both knew that, no matter what…they absolutely had to bug the heck out of Gantlos right now.

Anagan thought for a moment. '…He tried to get away…but the guards were right on his tail!'

'Oh dear god…'

Ogron scrambled to jump in next, his wordplay skills dusting themselves off for this sudden return to significance. 'He's a criminal meow-stermind.'

'Noooo…' Gantlos buried his face in his hands. 'You guys know I can't leave this cell, right? I'm trapped here? With the cat puns?'

'Yeah, that's what makes it fun.' Anagan was stifling laughter now, and Ogron felt amusement tug at his soul.

'He's a su-paw-villain!'

Gantlos facepalmed, and Ogron chuckled right along with Anagan.

'Best one yet…' Anagan snickered. 'High-five.'

Ogron returned the gesture while Gantlos rolled his eyes at the pair of them.

'So, to clarify, you've recovered enough mentally just to bug me with puns?'

'…Yes.'

'Wonderful…'

The cat seemed just as unimpressed with the puns, walking past Ogron and Anagan, still scrambling to think up evil cat puns, and setting up shop next to Gantlos, tail flicking with disdain. Well, if it didn't like their puns, its lack of taste wasn't Ogron's fault.

'You see?' Gantlos asked quietly of the cat. 'You see what I live with?'

The cat blinked slowly, almost as though in agreement, before looking expectantly to Gantlos. When its apparent expectations were not met, it headbutted his hand lightly, then slightly harder, seeking attention.

'…What?

The cat gave him a somewhat incredulous expression, as though asking if he were truly so dense as to miss one of the most obvious signals a cat can send.

'…No.'

Insistent nuzzling.

'Still no.'

Insistent meowing.

'This isn't even your cell.'

Both insistent nuzzling and meowing. Gantlos looked between Anagan and Ogron, before glancing to the empty hallway outside the cell.

'…Fine.'

Ogron stifled a delighted laugh at the very, very odd sight of Gantlos begrudgingly petting a very satisfied cat. Cats had a remarkable way of wrapping anyone and everyone around their paws with minimal effort, and this was yet another example of this power.

'Aww….' Anagan was quickly shut down with a 'don't talk about this' look from a rather embarrassed blonde.

'Missed you being all cute,' Ogron teased gently, and Gantlos looked torn between internally celebrating the fact Ogron was speaking with such a relaxed air, or issuing some kind of threat should he ever mention this to someone. In the end he simply opted for an odd sort of grumbly noise, and Ogron and Anagan dissolved into stifled giggles, soft purring becoming a pleasant background noise as Ogron, now decently distracted from spiralling, managed to finish his breakfast. Not that having good blood sugar levels would keep them out of Omega…but it would at least make the situation more tolerable.

The cat did leave after a while, leaving the cell to the light teasing tossed Gantlos's way, prompting the wizard to look deeply nostalgic for his hat - it would have provided a good hiding spot and excellent shelter from the comments on his cat-petting cuteness.

Despite the lighter attitude, however, Ogron couldn't help but hear the phantom ticking of the clock. He didn't even know when exactly they were to be tried, but he knew every breath, every second was a step closer and closer to his fate.

The guards patrolled past roughly every fifteen minutes, their armoured clanking a familiar sound by now, but this…this fresh bout of footsteps…this had a fresh purpose. Before he could even look up to see the more ceremonial armour, the polished swords held at the ready in the sheaths, Ogron knew. This was it.

He took a deep breath as the door was opened, the soft click of the lock seeming too quiet for the thing barring them from their freedom.

'On your feet, let's go.'

The three of them exchanged glances, getting up. Even Gantlos didn't argue back, worry evident in his eyes as the guards readied shackles. Ogron hated the feeling of the restraints on his wrists, snapping and binding him, but there was to be no arguing, not today. He was about to come before a king, they wanted every precaution. After all…it was hardly as though the last time he'd stood before a monarch had been anything worthy of a citizenship award.

They were walked out of the dungeons in silence, Ogron reminding himself over and over to stay calm, keep his breathing under control, don't squirm even though the shackles were chaffing his wrists and making him feel far too trapped…

The air grew warmer, fresher, until they were in the palace itself, not the servants' halls this time, but in the main halls, walking across the marble that royals and nobles walked; Ogron assumed they were bound for the throne room, though perhaps the palace had a courtroom instead.

Speaking of the nobles that walked these halls…the castle had hardly been cleared out to walk three exhausted, powerless prisoners through the halls. Staff and sovereigns alike glanced their way, eyes drawn to their shackled wrists and drab appearance, still haggard and grey amongst the shining vigour of every speck of Solaria.

Ogron bowed his head, focusing on the marble and the marble-pale feet treading it beneath him, unable to meet the gazes or even glance at the feet of those watching him. He could feel a great many emotions in the eyes focused on him…disdain, disgust, fear, anger, pity…the last was the worst. It wasn't so much that he didn't want pity…he didn't mind it all that much. No, what galled him to his very core was that he didn't care if he was an object of someone's pity. If someone's heart bled for him, it wasn't much of a stain on his pride. He was meant to scoff at such things, to refuse pity or concern, to hold himself above such weaknesses as the mighty wizard he'd been. The fact that his pride no longer rebelled…the fact that it could barely do anything but wheeze its way through whatever hazy scraps of life it might have left…that was what made his heart twist. Every day he was met with a fresh occurrence marking the grace of his former self, and the spectre he'd become hadn't even the strength to leave flowers.

The idea of glancing up, out of the windows tugged at Ogron's mind; he was very aware that this might be his last chance to see the sun. However…the idea of lifting his gaze, of making eye contact with anyone, of seeing how people looked at him now…it was too much. And so, all he saw until they reached a set of towering doors was marble floor and his own feet.

The doors swung open, and Ogron felt a hundred eyes on him. Skin crawling, he cautiously lifted his gaze as he was walked inside. They were in a throne room, guards lined up on either side of them leading all the way to the king, sitting on the throne simply exuding authority. Every aspect of the man felt like the inverse of how Ogron felt he must surely be presenting himself, and he felt dreadfully small under his gaze.

On the king's right stood Stella, dressed in a surprisingly simple blue gown. Knowing her, Ogron would have expected glitz and glamour, but perhaps she deemed a court date was not the place for rhinestones. Unless those were rhinestones in her necklace, but he was quite certain every gem was very real. A number of people away from her, he saw Luna. Surprising…wouldn't the princess's mother be nearer the throne? Shouldn't she have her own? He recalled hearing something to the extent of the monarchs of Solaria being separated, but he hardly lent an ear to courtly gossip. Perhaps if he had, he'd have been informed of Bloom's true heritage, and not landed them all in this situation with misinformation to begin with…

Finally, standing among the nobles gathered to watch their sentencing, the Winx and Specialists stood, regarding them with a whole mess of emotions. Rage, hate, confusion, concern from Flora and the technology fairy's boyfriend, what was his name again? Ogron knew he'd memorised it, it was just slipping his mind. The young knights didn't tend to do much, after all.

He unintentionally met Aisha's eyes and flinched, a weak pang of guilt lancing through him at the cold, hard look in her eyes. It wasn't even anger, just…sorrow. He knew that look. He saw it in Gantlos's eyes every day. He'd never felt much, if any, remorse regarding his actions, but there was actually something quite horrible about realising he was the kind of person who inflicted that look.

Glancing away as quickly as possible, his gaze found a true source of venom, profoundly juxtaposed to Aisha's quiet pain. He met two amethyst eyes blazing with hate and unconsciously stepped back. He'd never had much reason to fear the hot-headed specialist…the most inconvenient thing he'd done had been bicker a lot with his girlfriend in battle, and that had usually worked out in his favour anyway. But now…why did he stare at him with such hatred? It had to be for Nabu, but he seemed as angry as Aisha, though expressing it far more visibly. He did recall the two had seemed…close. Duman had called it a real bromance, maybe the kind of bromance where one bro wants to screw the other bro, as the departed wizard had so elegantly put it. Wonderful…yet another person that hated him. There should be some kind of club for people that hated him. He volunteered to serve as its president.

They were brought before Radius, brought to their knees before the assembled nobles and heroes of the dimension, and amidst quite possibly the most remarkable crowd Ogron had ever found himself among, all he could stare at was the carpet. It was rich, gold, like a path of soft sunlight, but he was hardly staring at it out of an appreciation for the king's decorating choices. He simply couldn't stand to see the gazes he could feel on him like a thousand daggers.

'Ogron Rowan, Gantlos Ahlström, and Anagan Harrow of Earth.' The king rose from his throne, and Ogron winced. Something about hearing his full name made him feel oddly like a small child being scolded as the king glowered down at him. 'You have been brought before us to stand trial for your crimes, of which your guilt is undeniable. You have caused nigh-on irreparable harm to the magical ecosystem of Earth, harmed countless fairies in a quest for power, brought about the death of one of Andros's highest nobles, and almost extinguished the Second Sun and brought death and ruin upon every citizen of Solaria. Do you refute any of these charges?'

Ogron could only shake his head; no. Every single word that had left Radius's lips was true. For the first time, he felt a hint of understanding towards their Omega sentence. Their hatred and wrath against the fairies had, admittedly, been more than a simple quest for power…but perhaps…perhaps that had only been at the start. Power was rather like a drug; once you had a little, you simply needed more, more, more, until you and everyone else around you were brought low by your addiction.

Hanging his head, his voice came out small and defeated, barely managing an echo in the spacious throne room. '…No.'

There was tide of hushed whispers, though Ogron was unsure what anyone could possibly have to say. His admission of guilt was much like saying that the sky was blue, or Solaria was sunny. It was nothing new.

Radius sat back down on his throne, and somehow, while the action of being brought lower had rendered Ogron small and submissive, it rendered Radius a font of power and authority, commanding the respect of the room.

'My daughter has decided to speak on your behalf,' Radius explained, gesturing to Stella and eliciting several sounds of surprise from unappraised members of the assembly. 'She would like me to have the full picture, and believes it better for her to speak than have you rehash what you covered in your interrogation.'

Ogron looked to Stella in surprise. He knew she was being oddly compassionate towards them, but…he had hardly expected her to actually stand up for them in court. He still couldn't for the life of him fathom why she cared so much. Nobody's heart was that good, he knew that…right?

Stella nodded gratefully to her father, walking down to stand between him and the wizards. She walked with a different gait, slower, more elegant, heels clickinh with a quiet certainty on the tiled floors. She held her head high, the confidence in her gaze daring anyone, even the few shocked specialists, to question her choice.

Despite Ogron's gratitude towards Stella defending him…he was forced to hang his head and stare at the intricate patterns on the floor, focusing his attention on stars and spirals as Stella began to speak, rehashing every horror he'd told her in the interrogation. He wouldn't be able to meet the eyes of a single person in this assembly when she was done…he'd be too humiliated. He supposed it worked in their favour for them to appear victimised to king and court, but he couldn't make himself okay with such a situation, such pity in gazes.

He flinched as Stella covered Neruman's shadow puppetry, and Stella quickly moved on. He wasn't sure if she'd noticed his discomfort or not, but he was grateful nonetheless.

When she'd finished, a glance stolen at Radius's face confirmed nothing; the man was a brick wall. Though…his eyes seemed to hint at some emotion drawn out by Stella's words, but it didn't feel strong enough to hang his hopes on.

Stella walked back to sit on her own throne, offering a very, very subtle thumbs up. Something about it was oddly comforting. If she could make such a casual gesture…this couldn't end too badly, right?

'Well now that's clarified…' Radius began, voice giving nothing away. 'We can get around to sentencing. You were illegally imprisoned in Omega in the heat of battle, and it was deemed unsuitable to have you freed to stand trial, so you were sentenced in absentia to eternity in Omega. However, my daughter has advocated for your sentencing to be…lightened, her reasons evident in her speech. In exchange, you offered us information to help guard against the threat of Neruman, and…as that information has recently been verified, at least in part, then the Princess's…technically unapproved…deal should be honoured; Solarian's are people of their word.' Ogron felt some part of himself relax. Not much, but if they were being tossed back into Omega, then Radius wouldn't be wasting time, would he? Perhaps Stella had had an effect on him…

'My daughter believes that beyond a lighter sentence being an effective motivation to glean information from you, that Neruman's treatment of you should qualify as an unplanned punishment in and of itself. She has also presented me with evidence that handing you into the custody of the Council of Light may directly and negatively impact your safety which is, technically, our responsibility.

'However, as has been established, you three are still incredibly dangerous felons with no regard for casualties resulting from your actions, and while you have shown understandable fear and a likely lack of motivation to continue your prior misdemeanours following your experiences with Neruman, you have shown no verifiable remorse for your actions. It would not be in good conscience to just let you go free, not now…' Ogron held his breath, unsure what words he was praying to hear next. 'Or ever.' Ogron…truly didn't know how to feel. Ever? Had he hoped for release at all? He supposed he hadn't let his hopes get that high, but they tumbled and shattered anyway, fragile enough to be broken by a simple trip.

'…What are you saying? We going back to Omega or not?'

Anagan quietly elbowed Gantlos to stop talking, but the brash wizard's words still hung in the air, an invitation extended to Radius.

'…No. I, with the counsel of my advisors and fellow sovereigns, am sentencing you to lifetime imprisonment in the dungeons of Solaria. You will be contained in cells for the rest of your lives, never to bring harm upon the Magic Dimension again.'

…So that was it. Under a hundred words, and their fate was sealed. The four walls of their cell were all they'd ever know, now.

There were murmurings from the crowd, and Ogron caught a voice that he was fairly certain belonged to Riven mumbling that if they wouldn't send villains like the wizards to Omega, why the hell did they build a place like it in the first place? He almost winced, but refused to let him see.

As a whole, the crowd seemed accepting of the verdict, though there was definite frustration in a great many voices. Ogron worried briefly that perhaps Radius might be a slave to public opinion, but he seemed unbothered by the irritation of the few.

Ogron caught Bloom giving Stella a rather obvious and perhaps a tad inappropriate for the situation thumbs up, far more enthused than the one Stella had offered him earlier. With behaviour like that, how had he been meant to guess that she was a princess of another planet? It was somewhat endearing, though, he supposed…

'Guards?' Radius gestured to the wizards, and Ogron felt hands on him, pulling him to his feet. He didn't bother to fight back, not meeting anyone's eyes as he was walked out, past the assembled hordes that would whisper and gossip his story across Solaria by day's end - the only part of him that would ever make it out of this palace.

He couldn't decide whether he wanted to stare out of the windows, soak up every last second of sunlight, every warped glimpse of freedom, or squeeze his eyes shut and block it all out, not be forced to see what he was losing. In the end, all he settled on was staring at the golden rays on his feet, watching the marble under his feet shift to shiny wooden boards, to scuffed, to chipped stone, all the way back to the wide grey flagstones he was starting to become so well-acquainted with. As he saw the last snatches of natural light be replaced with fake, fluorescent strip lighting, he felt a painful pang of regret. He wished he'd looked up…he wished he'd carved the sight of the sun into his soul. But it was too late now…

Ogron had a habit of memorising things nobody in their right mind would ever need to memorise, so it was very routine for him to start counting the steps to their cell from a scuff mark he'd observed the first time they'd been taken from their cell. Five…six…seven…

Except eight didn't come. It all stopped at seven. Confused, he looked up from the stones, glancing around. He almost asked why they were stopping, but then registered the sound of scuffing steps hadn't ceased. Only he and the two guards holding his arms had stopped, outside an empty cell, with only a single bed.

'…Wait…' he began, turning to Gantlos and Anagan, who had both started to slow their pace, turning to him in confusion as the guards tried to move them onwards. 'Wait, no, this isn't my cell…'

'The king wants you kept apart, to impede plans of escape,' the guard answered brusquely, already moving to unlock the cell door.

Ogron's heart turned to lead. What? Kept apart? Radius hadn't said anything about being kept apart…he'd have had a much bigger reaction if he had!

His heels dug in like a mule, and the guards found themselves struggling to drag a stubborn lump a moment later.

'No! No no no no no!'

'What the hell? What's wrong with him?' a guard demanded. What was 'wrong' with him was a desperate, pleading need to stay with his friends. Not even Neruman and his psychotic abuse had been enough to separate them, Ogron couldn't be wrenched away from them, not now, not when he knew this time was forever…

'Ogron…' Anagan was trying to dig his heels in and come to a stop himself, though his guards weren't nearly as on board with that idea. 'Ogron, you need to stop…'

Ogron shook his head furiously, managing to hit the guards in the face with his rapidly flicking hair. 'No! I won't be kept away from you, I won't be kept away from them, please!' He was begging, all while every moment saw him dragged an inch closer to the gaping door, the cell beyond spiralling away into an eternity of solitude. Not a single guard bothered to respond.

'Anagan! Anagan, Gantlos, do something, make them stop!'

Anagan exchanged a helpless glance with Gantlos, who, perhaps for better or worse, didn't need telling twice to do something. An order from his leader was good enough as a green card to reignite his fighting spirit, and his guards rapidly found themselves trying to contend with a far greater force than they had perhaps anticipated when only assigning two guards to hold him.

'Gantlos!' Anagan's eyes widened with panic at the situation they were finding themselves in, two prisoners on the thinnest of ice struggling madly against their captors. 'Gantlos, Ogron, stop, calm down, this is a bad idea!'

Gantlos ignored him and managed to hit one of his guards in the face, half with a hand, half with his shackles, it didn't matter, all that mattered was he got free, leaving his guard with a split lip and a black eye. The guard left stood no chance. He tried, but it was so utterly pointless it barely warranted description.

'Call for reinforcements!'

Anagan's eyes went wide with horror. 'Gantlos! Gantlos, stop! You are about to risk our entire sentence!'

'Anagan-!'

'What the f*k do you think you're going to accomplish?!' Anagan's voice reached the level Ogron had only heard on a rare few occasions in the past, a tone that actually stilled Gantlos. 'You have no magic and no shot at escape, all you're gonna manage is giving some guards bloody noses and getting thrown back in Omega, so for the love of god, think your damn actions through for once and calm down!'

Gantlos just stared a moment. Ogron stared. Anagan panted, looking somewhat surprised at his own outburst. Guards moved back to Gantlos's sides, and, with a resigned huff, Gantlos let them take him back in hand, wincing as their grips dug in tight.

Anagan watched him warily for a moment, relaxing slightly as he didn't shake the guards off, just staring down at the floor in angry resignation.

'Okay…okay, good…' Anagan turned his focus to Ogron, expression softening as he saw the wild fear in Ogron's eyes, the way his lip was trembling at the idea of being separated.

'Ogron…Ogron, we're just gonna be a couple cells over…you'll be able to hear us…' Hear them…like echoes on the wind, spectres of his past, unable to see him, to touch him, to hold him. No! No, he needed them with him! Never once since he was sixteen had he been truly apart from Gantlos and Anagan! Even in the ice, they'd been frozen together, suffering in shared solidarity…not torn asunder by stone and shackles…even in Neruman's cell, he'd known he'd see them again…this cell was likely intended to become his grave, the room where, someday, a guard would find his still body, eyes glazed and dulled, his gaze having never once fallen on his friends since today, since this…since this day, this moment…

'Hey…' Anagan looked to his guards as he made a move forwards, and something in his gaze must have seemed calm enough, seemed trustworthy enough, that they didn't stop him. 'Hey, it's okay…it's okay, Ogron. I know, I know you don't want this. I know it isn't what you'd choose in a million years, but this is the situation we've wound up in, and this really is the best case scenario, all things considered…'

'But…but I can't…I can't be apart from you…'

'And you won't be. I will be right on the other side of the wall, always.'

'…You promise?'

'I promise. But now, you need to do what the guards say, alright? That's the best way to stay safe, and I need you to stay safe, I care about you too much for you to get yourself hurt because you're scared.'

Ogron managed a weak, trembling nod. Anagan would be just the other side of the wall…he'd be there, any time he needed him…he'd be okay, he'd be okay, he had to be okay…

'Good…' Anagan squeezed his hand as best the shackles would allow, and Ogron found himself wanting to cling on forever and a day. Even if they were sealed in a cell, he almost thought it might be alright if he could just stay holding on…

But reality, that ornery old bitch, snatched the moment away, sending him stumbling into the cell as the whisper of Anagan's touch drifted from his fingertips and away into memory.

The shackles came off, the door clanged shut and Ogron heard the block hurl itself into place, an immovable behemoth he couldn't shift with all his willpower and decidedly measurable might.

He stood, frozen for a moment, slowly rubbing the chaffed skin on his wrists as he stared at the cell, stuck in that horrible mindset where one was so utterly, utterly convicted that this moment couldn't be real, that it had to be a dream, a horrible, terrible dream. He closed his eyes, and for just a heartbeat, he kid himself that he'd wake up. Wake up in that little Italian apartment he and the others had bought with fairy gold a few years before Roxy, when they'd seen nothing else to do with their time, so simply settled in to kill time a while. He'd wake up, wake up and see the ceiling, the wooden beams that had claimed to be original but one sniff from Duman had deemed them as fake as Nebula's supposed redemption. He'd wake up with those familiar tear tracks on his face from an abnormally bad nightmare. He'd wake up and brush them away. He'd wake up…

But, of course…

He didn't.