"Shhh," Gale coo'ed, laying his wizard hat on the table besides you. He's never been like this. It was almost condescending, but he wasnt trying to be. He'd casted a spell on you, and now you were sleepier than usual—allowing him to ascend and promptly keep you in a tower he'd made before hand in his new lands.

He's a god. The God of ambition. And you? His favorite thing in the world. If you escaped somehow, he'd bring you right back. He can conjure up almost anything, even extra copies of himself if you needed more. Now centuries have passed, and you're still his.

"You're so sweet." He'd mutter against your skin, fingers running through your locks of hair. "And all mine. Not even Mystra could take such an angel from me." Gale continued to pour his affections.

You'll just always be all His.