Ahhhh thank you so much <3
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For: Conqueror!Minthara, MotherSuperior!Shadowheart, God!Gale, Ascended!Astarion, Naturist!Halsin, GrandDuke!Wyll
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CW: Controlling, manipulation, coercion, forced memory loss
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The day has come where you have decided to simply give up and give them what they want - how do they react to it ?
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Conqueror Minthara:
The relentless internal conflict that had plagued you was silenced, replaced by an eerie tranquility. It was easier, you had decided, to yield to her dark affection than to continue resisting. The struggle had become wearisome, and the promise of her twisted love seemed a preferable fate compared to the endless fight.
That night, Minthara had summoned you, her tone carrying an edge of anticipation that hinted at a surprise for you. The grand hall was dimly lit by flickering lanterns, casting long shadows that danced menacingly along the walls.
As you walked into the hall, the sight that greeted you was heart-wrenching. Karlach, whom you had once fought alongside, laughed alongside, and had been the only one brave enough to dare and try rescue you, was restrained and gagged. She was bound in chains that rendered her helpless. Her eyes, wide with a mixture of fear and hurt, met yours as you approached. The sight caused a momentary falter in your steps, a pang of regret and sorrow piercing through your carefully constructed resolve.
Minthara stood beside Karlach, a dark, triumphant smile playing on her lips. Her presence was as commanding as ever, and she radiated a twisted satisfaction at the scene before her. She turned her gaze to you, her eyes filled with a cold pleasure.
“Welcome, my love,” Minthara purred, her voice dripping with dark affection. She stepped closer to you, her gaze lingering on Karlach for a moment before returning to you. “I have a special surprise for you tonight.”
Without giving you time to fully process the situation, Minthara pulled you into her embrace and kissed you deeply. The kiss was intense and possessive, her lips moving with a fervor that spoke of her complete control over you. The kiss was not just an act of passion but a declaration of her dominance, meant to be witnessed by Karlach, whose eyes were filled with pain and helplessness.
As she pulled away, Minthara’s eyes glinted with a predatory satisfaction. She looked at you with an expectation that was both chilling and clear.
“Now,” she said, her voice smooth and commanding, “I want you to prove your loyalty to me. Kill Karlach. Show me that you are truly mine.”
The words were a knife twisting in your gut, the command a cruel test of your obedience. You looked at Karlach, seeing her vulnerability and fear, and felt a wave of conflicting emotions crash over you. The act was repugnant, and the thought of betraying her in such a manner was overwhelming.
Tears began to well up in your eyes as you approached Karlach. Her eyes, filled with a mixture of pleading and anger, only deepened your turmoil. She began to thrash against her bindings, seemily aware of your dissolved defiance, seeing only broken submission in your eyes. The act of violence that you were about to commit was a stark contrast to the love and camaraderie you once shared with her.
With shaking hands, you carried out Minthara’s command. The act was brutal and swift - at least you tried to make it, Karlach had already suffered so much being held captive by Minthara. As you stood over Karlach’s lifeless body, a wave of revulsion and grief swept over you. The finality of what you had done left you feeling hollow and broken.
You staggered away from the scene, tears streaming down your face. The room seemed to spin around you, the weight of your actions crushing you with a suffocating intensity. Despair consumed you, and desperate to seek some form of comfort, you collapsed into Minthara’s arms.
Minthara embraced you with a dark, reassuring warmth. She held you close, her touch both soothing and possessive. Her fingers gently stroked your hair, and she whispered soft, comforting words into your ear. “There, there,” she murmured. “You did well, my love. You proved your loyalty, and I am so proud of you.”
Her kisses were tender and soothing as they brushed against your temple, each one a promise of her twisted affection. She murmured praise and encouragement, her voice a soft, seductive balm against the rawness of your grief.
The tears continued to fall as Minthara held you, her embrace a mix of comfort and possession. You clung to her, seeking refuge in her dark affection, even as the enormity of what you had done weighed heavily on your soul. In her arms, surrounded by the remnants of your former life, you found a perverse sense of solace, the darkness wrapping around you like a shroud.
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Shadowheart:
The heavy wooden door to the shared quarters creaked open as Shadowheart entered, her senses immediately attuned to the dim, enveloping silence of the Sharran cloister. The scent of incense and the distant murmur of ritualistic chants had marked her journey, but now she stood at the threshold of what she dreaded might be a scene of defiance. Her mind raced with anticipation and anxiety, wondering if her absence had undone the control she had worked so hard to establish over you.
To her surprise, the room was filled with a warm, inviting atmosphere that starkly contrasted with her expectations of ruined, trashed quarters. The flickering light of a few strategically placed candles created a soft glow.
As Shadowheart stepped inside, you were already there, standing with a radiance that seemed to light up the room. The moment you saw her, your face broke into an expression of pure joy. You rushed to her with an enthusiasm that was both genuine and overwhelming.
"Shadowheart!" you exclaimed, your voice brimming with excitement and relief. You enveloped her in a warm embrace, your lips finding hers in a passionate, heartfelt kiss. The kiss was an eager expression of your relief at her return, an embodiment of the deep-seated affection you felt.
As you pulled back from the kiss, your eyes sparkled with uncontained happiness. You interlocked your arm with hers, the gesture intimate and affectionate. Your questions came tumbling out in a rapid stream, your concern and eagerness evident in every word.
"How was your trip? Did everything go well? Please tell me you’re not leaving again soon. I’ve missed you so much," you implored, your voice filled with genuine concern and an almost childlike pleading. "I got you your favourite wine, and I can run you a bath if you would like?"
Noticing the way you clung to her, Shadowheart's initial tension began to melt away. She could see the sincerity in your eyes, and it was clear that her absence had only deepened your loyalty and affection. She thanked Shar that all her hard work has solidified and not come undone. It was a supreme validation of her efforts and control, and it filled her with a quiet satisfaction.
"You’re so sweet," Shadowheart said, her voice softening as she observed your eagerness. The corners of her lips turned up in a satisfied smile. "A bath and a glass of wine sound perfect. But," she added with a teasing glint in her eye, "only if you promise to join me."
You nodded enthusiastically, already leading her toward the bathing chamber. "Of course! I’ll prepare everything for you, my darling. You deserve to relax after your time away."
As you made your way through the quarters, you guided her gently, ensuring that everything was just right. You helped her out of her traveling clothes, your hands moving with practiced care as you prepared the bath. The water was warm and soothing, scented with fragrant oils that you knew she adored.
With the bath ready, you poured her favorite wine into a glass and handed it to her, your gaze filled with a mixture of devotion and happiness. Shadowheart accepted the wine with a contented sigh, her eyes reflecting the pleasure of your attentive care.
As she settled into the bath, you took a seat beside her, the warmth of the water and the richness of the wine combining to create an atmosphere of relaxed luxury. Shadowheart looked up at you with a mix of pride and tenderness. Her hand reached out to yours, holding it gently.
"Thank you," she said softly, her voice carrying a hint of genuine warmth. "You’ve done so well. It’s wonderful to come back to such a warm welcome. Join me, my love,"
You smiled back at her, your heart swelling with contentment, you quickly stripped yourself of your clothes and slipped into the bath, settling between her legs, you leant back into her and Shadowheart smiled. The intimacy of the moment, the shared peace, and the mutual affection were all a testament to the relationship she had worked so hard to nurture.
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God of Ambition Gale:
In the opulent expanse of Gale’s realm, you found yourself surrounded by a myriad of opulent trinkets and fervent offerings left by supplicants. Yet, the display before you, though magnificent, elicited only a muted response from you. The prayers and offerings, often laden with self-serving desires, were a reflection of the greed and vanity that permeated the world. One you had grown to detest.
The countless artifacts—golden chalices, ornate jewelry, shimmering fabrics—were arranged with meticulous care, each one a symbol of someone’s plea for divine intervention. You perused them with a detached, almost clinical interest. Their intentions were transparent, their demands for more power, wealth, or favor strikingly predictable. Your initial impulse was to disregard them entirely, to turn your attention to something far more stimulating.
As you reached out to discard a particularly ostentatious gem-encrusted box, Gale’s voice broke through your ennui. His tone was light yet tinged with a hint of reprimand. “Ah, come now, don’t be so hasty. They went to great lengths to show their devotion, or at least their desire for something.”
You sighed, your shoulders slumping slightly as you turned back to the collection of offerings. Despite your reluctance, you acquiesced to Gale’s subtle insistence. The fact that he saw value in these offerings—perhaps in the people behind them—seemed to matter to him, and you chose to placate him, if only to maintain the peace that had fallen upon the two of you.
Gale watched you with a mixture of curiosity and concern as you began to sift through the offerings more attentively. Each prayer and token was carefully examined, your face an inscrutable mask as you dutifully began to address them. His gaze, though soft and understanding, held a trace of sadness as he observed the toll this obedience was taking on you.
He saw the slight droop of your shoulders, the subtle yet unmistakable shift in your demeanor as you forced yourself to engage with the tedious task. It was as though a part of you was wilting under the weight of your submission, a part of you that was slowly being extinguished by the repetitive monotony of the task and the insincerity of the offerings.
Gale’s heart ached at the sight. He could sense the disillusionment that clouded your once bright eyes, the resigned slump of your posture. It pained him to see you so diminished, so subdued by the demands of this role. The sight of your suffering, even in the service of his realm, was a bitter pill he struggled to swallow.
However, Gale pushed aside his feelings of concern and guilt. His mind wrestled with the notion that this was indeed where you both were meant to be. The realm, the power, and the deference—these were all a testament to the place you held together. In his mind, this was your destiny: to stand by his side, to share in the grandeur and the responsibilities. You belonged here, to him, and he to you.
He wrapped his arm around your shoulders, a gesture meant to comfort and assure you of your place in this grand design.
“You’re doing wonderfully,” he said softly, his voice soothing and affirming. “This is where we’re meant to be. It may not always be easy, but it’s what we’ve chosen. What we’re destined for.”
You looked up at him, your expression a mix of resignation and a flicker of gratitude. Gale’s reassurance, though tempered with his own conflicting emotions, helped somewhat. He continued to guide you through the tasks with a sense of purpose, his own belief in the righteousness of your shared path helping to sustain you both.
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Ascended Astarion:
In the heart of the opulent palace, Astarion found himself grappling with a growing discontentment. He had envisioned that your submission, your unwavering obedience, would fill him with satisfaction and a deep sense of triumph. Instead, he found himself missing the very thing he thought he had conquered: your fire, your defiant spirit. The thrill of rebellion, the sharp bite of your resistance, had been a constant, intoxicating challenge—a dynamic that now felt glaringly absent.
The stark contrast between the passionate struggles of the past and the subdued compliance of the present gnawed at him. He had been expecting a sense of dominance, of absolute control over you, but what he felt instead was a dull ache of boredom. The vibrant, contentious interactions that once characterized your relationship had been replaced by a placid routine that left him feeling strangely unsatisfied.
Determined to rekindle that spark, Astarion began to test the boundaries of your submission with increasingly elaborate provocations. He would make biting comments about your obedience, belittle your efforts, and stage petty provocations just to see a flicker of resistance in your eyes. His attempts ranged from sarcastic remarks to dramatic displays of disdain, hoping that even the smallest reaction would stir the embers of rebellion he so missed.
Yet, every time, your response was the same: a calm, measured demeanor. You would meet his provocations with a serene smile, your eyes reflecting a patient understanding rather than the fiery challenge he craved. There was no spark of anger, no cutting retort—just a placid acceptance that seemed to frustrate him even more.
One evening, as Astarion’s irritation reached its peak, he found himself unable to contain his frustration. He threw a dramatic fit, slamming a goblet of wine onto the floor, the liquid splashing out in a crimson arc. He pouted and stormed about the room, his movements exaggerated, his sulking evident.
“You’ve become so… insipid!” he spat out, his voice echoing off the walls. “I miss the days when you fought back, when you had the audacity to challenge me. Now it’s as if you’ve turned into a mere shadow of your former self!”
You watched his theatrics with an unruffled calmness, your serene demeanor only serving to heighten his agitation. With a gentle, almost pitying smile, you turned away from him, your steps measured as you walked out of the room. The door closed behind you with a soft click, leaving Astarion alone in his storm of emotions.
Alone, he stared at the space where you had been, his thoughts racing. His earlier frustration slowly transformed into a dawning realization—or perhaps an illusion of one. His eyes narrowed as he contemplated your unshakable composure. Could it be that your calm, unreactive demeanor was not a sign of passive submission but rather a calculated move? Was it possible that your apparent obedience was a clever ruse, a game you had been playing all along?
Astarion’s pout transformed into a smirk, a glimmer of admiration—and perhaps even a touch of intrigue—flashing in his eyes.
“Ah,” he mused aloud to the empty room, “what a clever little darling you are. This must be your game. You’ve been biding your time, maintaining this facade of submission while plotting your next move. How deliciously devious of you.”
He chuckled softly to himself, the sound mingling with the echoes of his previous outburst. The thought of your cunning plan, your ability to play along while concealing a deeper strategy, brought a thrill of excitement to his heart. The prospect of a hidden agenda, of a game he hadn’t fully grasped, was exhilarating. It revived a spark of interest in him, rekindling the very essence of the dynamic he had so desperately missed.
With a renewed sense of anticipation, Astarion set about imagining the possibilities. He relished the notion of your defiant spirit still being alive, cleverly masked by your outward compliance. It was a delicious twist in the narrative of your relationship, one that promised to reintroduce the challenges and excitement that he had grown to crave.
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Naturist Halsin:
In the dimly lit kitchen of the secluded grove, the air was filled with the tantalizing aromas of various dishes simmering on the stove. The space, normally a confining backdrop to your captivity, had been transformed into a haven of comforting smells and culinary delights.
You had taken to this routine with a surprising sense of dedication, meticulously preparing meals for the assortment of injured and broken animals that had become your companions.
Each animal had its own special diet, a carefully balanced regimen to aid in their recovery. You moved gracefully between the stove and counter, your hands deftly chopping vegetables, stirring pots, and arranging food with the precision of someone deeply invested in their craft.
Halsin, who had taken to bringing you injured animals from the surrounding areas, entered the kitchen, his eyes catching the array of dishes laid out before him. He watched you for a moment, his gaze softening with affection as you worked.
“What are you preparing today?” he asked, a note of genuine curiosity in his voice. You glanced up from your task, a small smile playing on your lips.
“For the foxes, there’s a rich broth with tender meat and herbs. The birds get a light mix of seeds and fruits, and for the injured rabbit, a soft mash of vegetables with a hint of honey.” You moved to a plate of food that was noticeably more sumptuous than the others. “And this,” you said with a hint of mischief, “is for you.”
You set the plate down on the crafted table, pushing it toward him with a playful peck on his cheek. The food was beautifully presented, a dish that looked as though it had been prepared by a chef with considerable skill.
Halsin’s eyebrows arched in surprise, his gaze shifting from the plate to you. While you busied yourself with cleaning up, he surreptitiously checked the dish, examining it with a keen eye. He was well aware of the complexities of your situation and wouldn’t put it past you to have some hidden agenda—after all, you were still being held against your will.
Subtly, he tested the food for any signs of tampering or poison, his practiced magic ensuring that nothing was amiss. Once he was satisfied that the meal was indeed safe, he allowed himself a genuine smile.
“Thank you, my heart” he said warmly, his voice rich with appreciation. “It’s clear that you’ve taken quite a liking to this role.”
He glanced around at the array of dishes and the care with which they had been prepared. You shrugged lightly, a soft laugh escaping your lips.
“I suppose it’s a good distraction,” you said, your tone light but tinged with an undercurrent of resignation. “Focusing on the animals, making sure they’re cared for, helps me forget the rest.”
Halsin’s smile grew, touched by your efforts and the unexpected domesticity you had embraced, selectively hearing only the best of what you said. “Well,” he said, taking a bite of the meal you had prepared for him, “I must admit, this is truly delightful.”
As he ate, he watched you with a mix of admiration and satisfaction. The animals were thriving under your care, and though you remained his captive, Halsin couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride in the way you had adapted, and any guilt or regret of his previous actions melted away, in this moment it was all worth it- all justified.
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Grand Duke Wyll:
The dawn’s first light filtered through the tall windows of the grand bedroom, casting a warm glow across the opulent furnishings. Wyll stirred awake, his gaze immediately seeking out your familiar presence beside him. Finding the space empty, he sighed heavily. It was not the first time you had attempted to escape, and he had grown weary of the repeated games and attempts to flee, it was fun to begin with - now it was just a nuisance. It was almost routine now, and he was losing patience with the endless chase.
He slid out of bed and dressed quickly in his formal attire, preparing himself for another long day. His mood was a mix of frustration and resignation as he walked through the elaborate halls of the palace. The marble floors echoed with each step, and he made his way toward the servants’ quarters, ready to issue commands for his horse to be prepared.
As he walked, he heard faint, cheerful voices coming from one of the nearby rooms. Intrigued, he paused and followed the sounds to the grand ballroom. The scene before him was one of organized chaos, with servants and decorators bustling about, preparing for the evening’s ball.
Your voice rang out above the clamor, lively and filled with enthusiasm as you directed the servants and offered encouragement. You were dressed in an elegant, yet practical outfit suited for overseeing the preparations. The sight of you, so immersed in the task with a genuine cheerfulness, contrasted starkly with the previous tension of your constant escape attempts.
Wyll leaned against the doorframe, a small, almost amused smile spreading across his face as he observed you from a distance. The transformation in your demeanor was striking. There was a certain serenity about you as you engaged with the staff, your presence radiating an unexpected warmth that seemed to elevate the atmosphere of the room.
He watched you for a few moments, enjoying the sight of your animated interaction with the servants. Then, with a playful glint in his eye, he decided to make his presence known. He walked into the room, his voice smooth and courteous. “Good morning,” he said, his tone laced with an undertone of amusem*nt.
“Good morning, Wyll,” you replied cheerfully, seemingly unfazed by his sudden appearance.
Wyll’s eyes twinkled with mischief as he subtly kicked the base of the ladder you were standing on. The ladder wobbled dangerously, and before you could react, you tumbled backward into Wyll’s waiting arms. The suddenness of the fall was softened by his embrace, and you looked up at him with a bashful smile, a light flush coloring your cheeks. Wyll chuckled softly, his arms wrapping securely around you.
“You’re quite the sight this morning,” he charmingly spoke to you, gently helping you back on your feet, ensuring to hold you close to him. “I must say, your enthusiasm for the ball is rather… delightful”
You smiled up at him, your expression genuine and warm. You had decided to throw yourself into the ball to distract you from your confing reality. “Thank you, Wyll. I wanted everything to be perfect.”
Wyll’s smile widened, a sense of triumph in his eyes. Your submission, your acceptance of the role he had imposed upon you, was evident in your demeanor. It pleased him to see you so willingly immersed in your duties, and it only served to reinforce his sense of control and satisfaction.
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Formal apology to Karlach, I don't know why I keep doing this to my girl and I don't know why I always make Minthara's so dark, hope you guys enjoyed it ! - Seluney xox
If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x
