“It’s over, witch,” the Inquisitor commanded, pointing his sword at the heretical sorceress. “The King shall have your head.”

The sorceress was running out of tricks. The Inquisitor had slain her summoned demon. It was a good thing his fellow men were trapped in her dungeon, but she was still in a bind now, almost out of magic…

She backed towards the wall of her palace as the Inquisitor advance.

“Hold still,” the Inquisitor growled, “and your death will be swift.”

Her back hit the wall. The inquisitor stabbed the wall, barely missing her face.

“Any last words?” he smirked.

The sorceress mouthed something silently and then moved in for a kiss.

It landed, dead on the lips. The Inquisitor recoiled.

“Gah!” he shouted. “You can’t seduce me. Time to die!”

He pulled his sword out of the wall, raised it, and… dropped it.

His arms dropped to his sides, and he fell to his knees. He looked at her dreamily, his pupils glowing a soft pink, his lips curled into a relaxed smile.

It worked.

It was a long shot, but it worked.

She deflated and sighed, relieved to still have her head.

Arachne’s Kiss was a potent mind control spell, always lasting until the next sunrise, but it was incredibly inconsistent. The sorceress had heard as many stories of witches seducing knights to their doom with it as she had of women who swiftly lost their lives after trying it in vain. Was it that the Inquisitor was particularly weak-willed? Or was it just dumb luck?

It didn’t matter, she decided. She would reward herself for surviving a fight well won.

This one wouldn’t go to the dungeon. She owed her life to him, after all.

“Follow, pet,” she directed gently, walking into her keep.

He stood and clumsily followed.

It took them a moment to reach her bedchambers. She had just the thing in mind for such a big and strong soldier.

“Take off your armor,” she said.

He obeyed. In spite of his evident strength, his body was soft and a little rotund. He would be pleasant to the touch.

She changed into a nightgown as the Inquisitor stood in a stupor, then approached her bed. She pulled out a small vial that she was saving for such an occasion.

She laid down in an inviting posture.

“Come here, pet. Cuddle against me.”

The Inquisitor obeyed, lying next to her. She cradled him with her arms, and put the vial to his lips.

“Drink up!”

She tipped the vial and he drank it all, then laid his head down on her breast.

“Good,” she said. No need to keep secrets from a mind-controlled thrall. “You just drank a transformation potion. It’ll turn you into a little mouse by sunrise. So sleep. Think mousey thoughts, and dream mousey dreams…”

He immediately passed out.

She snuggled against him, relishing the idea of having a cuddly little pet by the morning. No more fighting. No more witch hunts. Not even any dungeon time, like his men. Just a cozy, passive little life.

She hoped she would be able to retain the same for herself.