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nyanbary · 8 days ago

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Hello! Could I request a pregnant reader running away from the Dark ending characters to protect their unborn baby? Sort of an alternative scenario where the dark characters don’t know their darling is pregnant and they successfully manage to run away and hide with their child for a few years before they’re both found again by their yandere?

So glad requests are finally open!!!!!

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Dark!BG3 | Bye, Bye, Baby/Baby, Goodbye

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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, blood, murder, F!reader, childbirth, mass murder, arson,

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Song rec: Bye Bye Baby

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Conqueror Minthara:

It had taken every ounce of strength you possessed to leave Minthara, but your pregnancy had propelled you forward. Each moment of your escape was a dangerous gamble, every step a silent prayer, relying on old allies and, for the first time, even the enemies of the Baenre estate to help you vanish into the world above. You'd known the risks, the chance that Minthara’s dark reach might find you anywhere, but when you finally stepped into the light of the surface world, the chill of fear faded, replaced by something warmer, something you hadn’t felt in years. Freedom.

In that quiet, sunlit village, you built a new life. It wasn’t grand or luxurious, but it was wholly yours, unburdened by the constant dread of Minthara’s ambition and possessive cruelty. It was a simple existence, but peace had always been elusive for you, and here, you had finally grasped it.

And when your daughter was born, small and soft and untainted by any darkness, you felt a strength bloom within you that was fiercer than any resolve you had known before. She was innocent, untouched by Minthara’s world, a part of you that you would fiercely protect. In her small face, you saw the promise of a life unshadowed by fear. She became your joy, your purpose, and the villagers who took you in became a family, treating her as a precious miracle. For the first time, you felt safe.

Life became a quiet rhythm: tending to her, letting her laugh at the birds that flew outside your window, and feeling her small fingers tug at your hair as she babbled with wonder at every new thing. In the peaceful warmth of the village, the sounds of morning birds and evening lullabies replaced the echo of Baenre’s cold vicious halls. It felt safe enough, at times, that you dared let yourself relax. You would take small naps in the afternoons, letting sleep claim you while she lay in her cradle.

It was on one of those afternoons, feeling content and unburdened, that you allowed yourself to truly sleep. It was a mistake.

You awoke, not to the warmth of your small bed, but to the touch of silk sheets. No longer were you wrapped up in the knitted jumper your elderly neighbour had made you but the finest robes the Underdark could offer. The comforting scent of home had been replaced by the stale, heavy air you had left behind. Your eyes flew open in panic, and terror surged through your veins as the truth settled over you. The bed, the cottage, the life you had built—it was all gone. You were back within the Baenre estate, its dark silence pressing down on you like a nightmare.

You staggered to your feet, the terror clawing at your chest, but only one thought filled your mind: your daughter. You tore through the familiar, hated halls, shouting her name, your heart pounding as you passed door after door, corridor after corridor, each one empty and devoid of life. No warmth, no gentle light from the village. Only darkness and the cold.

Then, in the dim light of Minthara’s chambers, you saw her.

Your daughter, barely a few months old, sat on Minthara’s lap, her small hands reaching out, curious, to touch the dark fabric of Minthara’s robes. Minthara’s face held a strange gentleness—a softness you once trusted, now contorted into something twisted and terrifying. She murmured to the child, her tone almost affectionate, the sound catching in your ears like broken glass.

"Your mama had a little… lapse. She thought she could leave us,” Minthara cooed, her words soft, her gaze never leaving your child. “But it’s alright now. She’s returned to where she belongs, where you belong, my love."

Her eyes lifted, meeting yours, a cold gleam in them. She gave you a pitying, patronizing smile, as though you were nothing more than a child caught in a foolish game. Your legs felt like lead, each step heavy as you stumbled into the room, desperate and helpless.

“Minthara…please,” you choked, reaching out, your voice thin and trembling. “Give her back to me.”

Minthara’s smile grew sharper, and she shifted your daughter on her lap, as though she were cradling a prize, a possession that was irrevocably hers.

“You weren’t well, darling. Call it pre-partum delusions, if you will. Motherhood…does things to the mind.” Her voice was calm, patronizing, almost soothing, and each word sank into you like a blade. “But rest assured, I’ll make sure this never happens again. You’ll be protected, watched over.”

A heavy, cold weight settled over you as she dismissed everything you had fought for as if it were nothing but a passing illness. She was rewriting your escape as nothing more than a fit of irrationality, a lapse in judgment, the precious life you’d built reduced to a fevered dream. She continued, her tone sharp, each word a stone that buried your resolve.

“Rest assured that I’ve forgiven you. I understand what might have driven you to this… lapse.” She reached down, brushing a strand of hair from the child’s forehead with a delicate hand as though you weren’t standing there, each word diminishing you. "But worry not, you two will never leave again. I’ll see to it myself.”

You took a step forward, trembling, your gaze shifting from Minthara’s possessive hand on your child to her eyes, which held no warmth, only an unyielding, terrible love. “Minthara… please, I was only trying to protect her from—”

“Protect?” she interrupted, her voice slicing through the air like a whip. “You were confused. You were delusional.” Her voice softened, taking on a chilling gentleness. “But I know it was only fear that drove you to such… irrational behavior. Now, our family is whole again. Our baby will grow up in both of her mothers' embrace."

Her voice left no room for protest, and when you tried to step forward again, she shifted your daughter further away, holding her closer, her gaze hardening with an unspoken threat. Your protests died on your lips as you curled in on yourself.

“Now,” she continued, her voice soft, almost soothing, “you will stay here with us, and in time, you will understand that this—this is the only place you need to be.” Her eyes softened with a chilling, twisted affection. “You and our daughter, bound together in this family. You’ll see it’s what’s best.”

A shudder of helplessness ran through you as you realized there was no escape. Not now, not ever. Minthara’s control was unbreakable, her possession over you, over your daughter, as absolute as the stone walls that surrounded you. She had taken everything and redefined it under her own iron will, trapping you within a nightmare disguised as love.

Your daughter gurgled, reaching for you, her small, trusting eyes unaware of the darkness that loomed. As Minthara held her close, her fingers brushing the child’s cheek with a cruel tenderness, you felt the weight of her claim settle over you—a cage you could never escape. And as you looked into Minthara’s eyes, you knew she would never let you go.

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Mother Superior Shadowheart:

The news had settled within you like a quiet revelation, a blooming certainty despite the fog of your fractured memories. You were pregnant, carrying Shadowheart's child. It was surreal and daunting, your memories of her a shattered mirror, fragments of affection and fear intertwined. But as soon as you felt the life stirring within you, something undeniable broke free—a fierce, protective instinct you hadn’t felt before. Whatever your past held, this future, this child, needed something else—somewhere safer than the Sharran cloister’s shadowed halls.

Days turned to weeks as you hid the truth from Shadowheart, burying your own memories further, blending into the routines she expected of you. Finally, in the dead of night, you slipped away, cradling your belly and the life within it, guided only by that need to protect, even as your own mind’s certainty waned. Exhaustion and the pain of fleeing left you breathless, but you pressed on, slipping past the cloister’s walls and through the wilderness, seeking the solace you knew lay elsewhere.

It was through sheer resilience that you found the Selunite community—a hidden sanctuary of gentle souls who embraced you without question, taking you in like the family you barely remembered. Their kindness was a balm, a healing force that soothed you as you neared the end of your pregnancy. And when the time came, their hands and prayers guided you through childbirth, their soft words of encouragement weaving through your pain. Finally, you held your daughter, her small face serene, a spark of light in the world that had been so dark.

Those first few days passed in a haze of wonder and exhaustion, their gentle care enveloping you as you recovered. You felt a faint glimmer of hope as you watched your daughter sleep in your arms, her little face peaceful, untouched by the fear that had followed you for so long. For the first time, you thought you might truly be free.

But then, the peace broke, the night pierced by screams and the clash of steel. Panic surged within you as you heard footsteps rushing through the halls, the murmur of prayers abruptly silenced. Sharran chants echoed against stone walls, a sound you knew too well. Shadows poured through the sanctuary, cutting down the Selunites one by one, the scent of blood thickening in the air. You held your child closer, frantically searching for a way to flee, but it was too late.

A familiar, chilling voice sounded behind you, and your blood froze.

“There you are,” Shadowheart murmured, her voice like silk, threaded with a dark satisfaction. She moved closer, her gaze fixed on your daughter with a haunting reverence, as if drawn by the innocent life you held. “Oh, look at her… what a beauty you’ve brought into the world.”

Her tone was deceptively soft, the twisted affection almost comforting if not for the malice that laced it. She extended a gloved hand, her fingertips grazing your daughter’s cheek with a gentleness that felt all wrong.

Instinctively, you pulled your child closer, your grip tightening, and Shadowheart’s gaze flicked to you. There was no anger, only an unsettling calm, her expression laced with twisted forgiveness.

“You ran,” she continued, her voice almost reproachful, as if she were scolding a disobedient child. “But it’s alright now. You’ve returned to me, to Shar’s embrace, and you’ve brought with you this… gift.”

Your heart pounded as you struggled to muster any courage to speak, but the words choked in your throat. Around you, the once-peaceful sanctuary was littered with the fallen, the Selunites lying motionless, their sanctuary now desecrated. Shadowheart’s followers moved silently, clearing away what remained of the Selunite resistance, their faces cold, their hands stained with blood. This was their version of mercy—Shar’s mercy, as Shadowheart would call it.

“All is forgiven,” she whispered, her lips curving into a smile that was both tender and terrible. “You see, even the Selunites now lie within Shar’s embrace. They fought so hard, didn’t they?” She reached out, her fingers gently touching your cheek, her gaze softening as if this massacre were an offering just for you. “But now, you and our child are home.”

“Shadowheart… please,” you finally managed to whisper, desperation fraying your voice as you held your daughter close. “We don’t… we don’t belong here. She deserves a life free of this darkness.”

Her smile faltered only for a heartbeat before she let out a soft, almost sympathetic laugh.

“No, my love. This is the only life we deserve—Shar has granted us purpose, blessed us with a future. And you were simply lost for a while, caught up in the false comforts of the light.” Her hand moved to cup the back of your head, her thumb tracing a slow, comforting path along your temple. “But I’ve forgiven you. And now, you willl be home again, and we can forget all about this.”

Your stomach lurched, though you couldn't place why, you just had an instinctual feeling that it had something to do with your broken mind. The remnants of your defiance withered under her touch, your heart heavy with dread as you realized there was no escape. You will return to the shadows, with your child, where Shar reigned, and would serve as your babe's twisted godmother. And there was nothing you could do about it.

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God of Ambition Gale:

The realization of your pregnancy struck you like a fever. Gale’s child—the product of the god of ambition’s indomitable will and your own caged heart—was growing within you. In that moment, you knew with certainty that whatever this child’s fate was meant to be, it would not unfold within Gale’s far-reaching grasp. The image of your child, bound by his ambition, molded into his vision of perfection, was enough to fuel your resolve. Determined to give your child a life beyond Gale's expectations, you tapped into your powers, cloaking yourself from his omniscient gaze and retreating into the mortal plane.

You found refuge within a hidden sect of your most devout followers, a sanctuary devoted to you in secret, where your faithful tended to your every need. You shielded them from Gale's prying eyes, weaving spells of concealment and drawing from your diminishing godly strength to protect them. You could feel Gale’s influence faintly brushing against your barriers, but for once, it was within your control. Your powers fortified with the growing life inside of you.

Months passed in tense quietude, but at last, your child was born, a tiny, fragile spark of life cradled in your arms. Your followers revered the newborn daughter, honoring the life that defied a god’s ambition and revered you for your defiance, vowing to protect this small, unknowing child. Yet as the days passed, you felt the dread looming over you—Gale’s influence was inescapable. The sense of his presence prickled at the edges of your consciousness, as if he were a shadow waiting to fall.

One evening, as you sat within the dim light of your sanctuary, you looked at your newborn, heart heavy with the choice that lay before you. You would entrust your daughter to your followers, let them raise them in secret and keep them far from the ambitions of her father. It was for her own protection, her only chance at freedom. Yet, as you gazed into your child’s innocent eyes, a new realization crept into your heart: you couldn't bear the thought of letting go.

Tears filled your eyes as the weight of your decision crushed you. How could you abandon her? The life you wanted her to live—untouched by divinity, free from expectation—seemed just out of reach. Sobs wracked your body as you clutched her closer, your resolve dissolving beneath the tidal wave of grief. You wanted to protect her, but giving her up felt like losing a part of yourself.

A gentle touch brushed your shoulder, and you turned, expecting to see your high priestess. But as your tear-filled gaze met familiar eyes, your breath hitched in horror.

Gale stood before you, his expression one of sympathy, yet his eyes shone with a satisfaction that was chilling. Clad in your priestess’s robes, his disguise melted away, revealing the truth you had dreaded. He had been here all along, watching, waiting for you to come to your senses.

"My love," he murmured, his voice like honeyed silk, soothing even as it constricted around your freedom, "you didn’t think I would let you face this alone, did you?"

You shrank back, clutching your daughter protectively, your mind racing with fear not for yourself, but for her. His gaze drifted to the child, and you could feel his mind already shaping her future, his plans and ambitions seeping into the air around you. He placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, eyes gleaming with pride.

"Look at what you’ve created," he said softly, though his words held a dark undercurrent. "Our daughter. You were merely testing my resolve, weren't you? Testing my devotion to you and to our legacy. My ambition."

The air grew thick with his presence, oppressive and unyielding, as his hand tightened ever so slightly, rooting you in place. It wasn’t a request—it was an assertion, an unyielding truth in Gale’s mind that could not be challenged. He saw your devotion wavering and offered his own hand as a reminder, his grip unbreakable. You saw in his gaze the merciless edge of his ambition, a refusal to let anything—anyone—be outside of his control.

Stricken by fear, you forced yourself to nod, murmuring broken assurances.

"Yes, Gale," you whispered, voice trembling, "it was just… a test. I… I needed to be sure."

Satisfied, Gale smiled, his hand brushing your hair gently.

"Then all is well," he said, his tone rich with the contentment of victory. "Now, return to my realm, and let me help you raise our child as she’s meant to be—she is ours, after all."

Bound by his grip, by the weight of your followers’ lives and the fragile life of your daughter, you surrendered. He led you back, your daughter cradled against you, and you walked in silence, already haunted by the future that awaited her. You had once dreamed of freedom for her, but under Gale’s ambition, you knew that dream had faded into shadows.

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Ascended Astarion:

The discovery of your pregnancy had shaken you to your core. The idea of raising a child under Astarion's rule—within his twisted, blood-soaked world—was more terrifying than any threat you’d ever faced. Quietly, with every ounce of resolve you had left, you’d slipped away from him, vanishing into the shadows of the Underdark, determined to keep your child safe from his corrupted influence. Away from Astarion, you’d managed to carve out a small, hidden life for yourself, filled with the quiet joys of early motherhood. You nourished your child, watched over them, and, for a few precious months, knew peace. You allowed yourself to believe that, maybe, you’d succeeded in keeping them safe.

But that dream shattered the day you returned from gathering food, your child nestled in your arms, only to find Astarion sitting casually at the worn kitchen table, a ghostly figure of elegance against the dimly lit and modest surroundings. His crimson gaze fixed on you as he toyed with an empty goblet, his fingers tracing its rim with a nonchalant menace.

"Darling," he purred, voice dripping with amusement as he looked up at you, eyes flashing with a possessive intensity, "did you truly think I wouldn’t find you?"

He laughed, a soft, dangerous sound that filled the silence. You held your child closer, feeling your heart thunder beneath your ribs as you took in the sight of him, seated in the home you had desperately tried to keep hidden. Every instinct screamed at you to run, to escape, but you knew Astarion far too well. Running now would be useless. With no other choice, you drew a shaky breath, forcing yourself to meet his gaze.

"What do you want?" you managed, voice barely above a whisper. He laughed again, standing and brushing down his pristine attire as though your question was absurd.

"What do I want?" he echoed, approaching with that chilling, gliding grace. "Isn't it obvious, my love? I came to retrieve what’s mine." His eyes glinted with a terrible amusement as he drew closer, his gaze drifting to the child in your arms. "Now, let me see them."

When he reached out, you instinctively tightened your hold, taking a step back, your body tensing at the idea of his touch on your child. The defiance only made him smile, a mockery of indulgence flashing across his face. With a small, irritated sigh, he rolled his eyes.

"Please, my dear," he said, his tone carrying an edge of impatience. "I’m not here to harm my heir… or the mother of my heir. I’d expect a little trust."

Unwilling but with no other options, you reluctantly loosened your hold, feeling your stomach twist as he gently lifted the child from your arms. He held them with surprising care, the barest hint of a smile gracing his face as he looked down at the small bundle. A strange light entered his eyes, and for a fleeting moment, there was an almost genuine affection there, albeit twisted by his possessive pride.

"Ah," he murmured softly to the child, his voice low and soft. "Such a marvelous life awaits you, little one. An entire world, ripe for the taking… as soon as your mother," he glanced at you with a smirk, "comes to her senses."

You felt a prickle of fear at his words, understanding the layered meaning beneath them. You took a cautious step toward him, trying to keep your tone steady. "Astarion… please, they deserve a chance at a real life. Not… this."

His smile hardened, his gaze cutting.

"Don’t be foolish," he replied, his voice like a caress tainted with steel. "A 'real life?' You were trying to raise my heir in squalor and shadows." He clicked his tongue disapprovingly, the patronizing look in his eyes making your heart sink. "I’ll forgive your little rebellion, darling, but don't presume to know what's best."

Before you could speak, you felt something, some spell overtake you, and your vision began to swim. Your legs went weak, your world turning fuzzy at the edges as you felt your consciousness slipping away. The last thing you saw was Astarion’s mocking smile, and the last thing you heard was his cool voice murmuring, "Shh, it’ll all be over soon."

Darkness closed in, and when you awoke, you were back in Astarion’s palace, in his chambers, the opulence surrounding you an all-too-familiar prison. The air was thick with a sense of foreboding, of inescapable control, as though you’d never left. Disoriented, you pushed yourself up, your mind racing.

The sound of a soft coo drew your attention, and your heart leapt as you saw your child in a gilded crib nearby, eyes wide with innocent curiosity. Relief washed over you—but only for a moment. The door creaked open, and Astarion stepped in, his gaze sweeping over you with a mixture of satisfaction and delight. He watched you for a beat, savoring the moment as you looked up at him, your eyes filled with quiet despair.

“See?” he murmured, gesturing to the luxurious room, to the crib. “Isn’t this a better life for our heir?”

You knew better than to argue, seeing the unyielding determination in his eyes. He wouldn’t be swayed by your pleas or logic. Any trace of freedom you’d tasted had evaporated, replaced by a chilling realization: this was your life now, and your child’s.

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Naturist Halsin:

Discovering you were carrying Halsin’s child had ignited a fierce urgency within you, a determination to protect them from the dark path Halsin had fallen into. You’d once loved him deeply, but as his views became increasingly extreme, his disdain for humankind palpable, you could no longer bear the thought of raising a child under his fervent ideology. With a heavy heart, you fled, finding refuge in a small druidic grove whose members welcomed you and promised to shield you from Halsin’s reach.

Months passed, and there, surrounded by trees and healing herbs, you gave birth. The grove offered peace, and you cherished the tranquil days, breathing in the clean air as you held your child close. You’d finally begun to believe you were safe, that your child might actually have a chance at a balanced life, away from Halsin's dominating influence. In this secluded grove, hidden away, life settled into a gentle rhythm, each day weaving hope and new beginnings.

But that illusion shattered in the dark hours of one quiet night.

The scent of smoke drifted through the air, thick and suffocating. You woke with a jolt, alarm shooting through you. Heart racing, you turned to the cot beside you, only to find it empty. A pang of panic sliced through your chest as you frantically searched the room, praying you’d somehow missed them in the dim light. But the cot remained empty, and dread clawed at your throat.

Barefoot and disheveled, you tore through the grove, ignoring the flames licking at branches, the heat scorching your skin. The acrid smell of burning wood and flesh choked you, but all that mattered was your child. You screamed their name into the chaos, your voice breaking with desperation as you stumbled over the fallen bodies of your new druid family, their lifeless forms strewn across the sacred earth.

The world around you blurred, reduced to a single, primal purpose—find your child.

At the grove’s edge, just past the smoldering ruins of what had been your sanctuary, you saw him. Halsin stood there, towering and blood-streaked, his face framed by the firelight. Your breath caught in your throat as you took in the sight before you. In his arms, nestled against his chest, was your child, unharmed and gazing up at him in quiet wonder.

Halsin looked down at them with a serene expression, cooing softly as he rocked them gently, whispering words you couldn’t make out over the roar of the flames. His hands, still stained with the blood of those who had offered you refuge, held your child as if they were the most precious treasure in the world.

Without thinking, you stumbled toward him, heart shattering as you reached for your child. He looked up, his eyes meeting yours with a strange mix of affection and pity.

“Our little one was waiting for me,” he murmured, his voice calm, almost soothing. “You must know by now—this was always meant to be.”

You were shaking, your fingers numb as you took the baby from his arms, clutching them desperately to your chest as if they were your lifeline. Tears spilled from your eyes, your body wracked with silent sobs as you stared at Halsin, the man you once loved and now feared beyond measure.

“Why, Halsin?” you choked out, voice barely a whisper. “Why would you do this?”

His gaze softened, and he reached out, placing a hand on your shoulder with the same tenderness that had once comforted you.

“You lost your way, my love,” he said, as if explaining something simple to a child. “But it’s all forgiven now. You and our child are where you’re meant to be. Under my protection, with nature’s blessing. I had to save you from the lies they fed you here.”

You felt his grip tighten ever so slightly, a possessive strength beneath the facade of tenderness. His touch, once reassuring, now felt like a shackle, holding you firmly in place.

“For the greater good,” he murmured, his voice a low, almost reverent whisper. “You’ll understand, in time.”

Your mind felt trapped, your body frozen as you held your child, and all you could manage was a shaky nod. Because deep down, you knew: there was no escaping him now. As Halsin guided you back through the charred remains of the grove, his arm wrapped protectively around you, you realized you had no choice but to submit—to the man who believed he was saving you, even as he bound you to his twisted vision of the world.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Grand Duke Wyll:

You’d felt a bittersweet sense of liberation the day you’d finally made it out of the Grand Duke’s clutches, a freedom carved out of sheer determination and love for the life growing within you. After months of moving cautiously, you had finally managed to reach Waterdeep, a sprawling city where you could blend into the crowds, creating a new identity for yourself and your child. You’d found a small home, modest yet cozy, and the months after the birth of your baby were a blissful exhaustion—nights spent rocking them to sleep, days filled with laughter and quiet joy. Here, Wyll’s shadow couldn’t reach you, or so you thought.

One lazy afternoon, while your baby napped, exhaustion overtook you, and you drifted off on the sofa. The next thing you knew, soft cries from the nursery roused you. You sat up quickly, your heart lurching in that familiar pang of maternal worry mixed with relief; your child’s cries were already softening, and you thought perhaps they’d just drift off again.

But as you approached the nursery, a strange, cold feeling gripped your heart. The quiet that greeted you felt unnatural, too calm, too steady. You pushed open the door and froze.

Wyll was sitting in the rocking chair, cradling your child with a gentle sway, his gaze wholly absorbed by the small bundle in his arms. He looked so at ease, as if he had always been here, always part of this quiet life you had so carefully built away from him. He was murmuring softly, his deep voice filled with adoration.

“You’re as pretty as your mother, you know that?” he cooed, his thumb gently brushing your baby’s tiny fingers. “Just as lovely… just as perfect.”

A chill ran through you, dread settling in the pit of your stomach. Taking a steadying breath, you stepped forward, keeping your voice as calm as you could manage.

“Wyll,” you said, your voice just above a whisper, “you need to leave. You don’t belong here.”

But Wyll didn’t look up, his attention solely on the child, his child. He didn’t acknowledge your words—only continued to rock, a faint smile gracing his lips as he murmured to the baby.

“We need to leave soon, darling,” he said, his tone light, almost cheerful. “We have a carriage waiting for us, for our family.” His gaze finally drifted to you, and his eyes softened. “I know these past months have been difficult, darling. Pregnancy, childbirth… it’s exhausting, and sometimes it clouds the mind.” His voice was soothing, patronizing in its gentleness. “But that’s why I’m here now.”

You tried again, fighting to keep your voice calm, though each word came with a barely restrained tremor.

“No, Wyll. I’m not going back with you. This is my home now. Our home,” you emphasized, your hand protectively reaching out for your baby. “You need to understand that we’re not returning to your city, to your… rule.”

For the briefest moment, a flicker of something dark crossed his face, but it vanished as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by a sympathetic smile. He shifted the baby gently in his arms and rose from the chair, stepping toward you.

“You poor thing,” he murmured, voice thick with faux sympathy. “Sleepless nights, the overwhelming worry… it’s clouded your judgment. But that’s all right. That’s why I came myself, to bring you home, where you belong.”

Each word cut deeper as he dismissed your pleas. He walked toward you, and you tensed, stepping back on instinct. But as you moved, the quiet rustle of armor drew your attention to the door, where two of Wyll’s royal guards stood, their stoic gazes fixed on you, blocking any hope of escape. Wyll stepped closer, his eyes warm but resolute.

“We’ve missed you. I’ve missed you.” His arms closed around you and the baby, his touch firm, unyielding, as he held both of you close. “It’s time to go home.”

You felt the tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you glanced down at your child, nestled contentedly in his arms, unaware of the tension in the room, of the silent battle being waged.

“Please,” you whispered, voice breaking as you looked up at Wyll. “Please let us stay. This is what’s best for our child. Can’t you see that?”

But Wyll only smiled, brushing a stray tear from your cheek. “It’s all right. We’ll have you feeling yourself again in no time. You just need rest, stability… me.” He lifted your chin, his gaze steady and calm. “Now, enough of these dramatics. Your carriage awaits.”

Helplessly, you watched as he signaled to his guards, his arm protectively around you as they escorted you both out. Each step away from the life you had built felt like a surrender, the world you had carved out of hope and freedom slipping further and further away.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Oooh this was delicious to write, I love this dynamic and this request was just *chef's kiss* - so thank you so much and I hope you guys enjoyed this! - Seluney xox

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