Your villain arc is hospitality with no exits. Everyone must eat, rest, be comforted, and accept the leftovers you have already packed. Declining is not on the menu. You have force-fed happiness to people who came over to borrow a charger.
The dark side is the ledger — you'd never call it that, but somewhere inside you know exactly who never asks how YOU are doing. And when the tank hits empty, the warmth goes with it, and everyone acts surprised that the sun has needs.
The upright Empress grows things without gripping them. The care is your genius; the martyrdom is the bug. Put yourself on the guest list of your own table — the people worth feeding will notice, and pass you a plate.