Dear Ansur, dear Ansur, dear Ansur. Those two words refuse to stop replaying in your head, and - And the faded letter burning a hole in your pocket is making it so much worse. Every fiber of your being regrets picking it up, regrets reading those - anguished words. You should have left it there, let it keep rotting alongside those old bones, but the selfish part of you wanted to keep it, to claim it, to - to -- You don't know. You don't know why you took it. Taking the sword made sense, but the letter - You were already not thinking straight, running on pure adrenaline after almost dying, and reading that letter only stirred your intense mania further. You should throw it into the fire -
<Throw it into the sea,> the Emperor says. <That would be more fitting.>
Really? Really? He appears in your thoughts now? You can't believe him. He hasn't spoken to you in - in hours, not since he chose to end what you thought was finally going to be a meaningful and enlightening conversation by telling you to move on, to focus on getting to the morphic pool, not - not even letting you get a word in before disappearing back into the prism. You had so many more questions, about him, about Ansur, about - the nature of their relationship... if... if you... if he still -
You can at least ask one thing. <Do you really want me to throw it away?>
<Yes.>
You don't reply. That's not enough. You need more.
<I do not wish to be shackled by my past any longer,> he finally adds. <And I would not have you be shackled by it, either. The sentiments on that parchment were lost the moment he tried to kill me. He always was too stubborn for his own good. Becoming an undead abomination...>
<But you still called him dear ->
You can't help it, you turn and strike your fist against the base of the statue you've been leaning on. The statue of Balduran in front of the library. You made your way here earlier in the afternoon to be alone, to try to lose yourself in the Society's vast catalog of books,β¦
<You should've been less vague about it!!>
<I...> He pauses. Gods, please say that you've gotten through to him. That today's mess wasn't all for nothing. He stays silent for a long time, long enough that the hurt in your veins starts to surface again, and you raise your bloodied fist toward the statue again -
<I'm... sorry,> he starts again. <Perhaps... you are right.>
<Perhaps!?> you echo. It's something, but it's not enough to earn your forgiveness. <Could you please... just... be honest with me from now on?>
<That -> you feel a distant tingle of hurt. <I have always been honest with you.>
<Do you even l- ... like me? Or was everything just an act to keep me compliant?>
The Emperor lets out a long sigh into your thoughts, and you feel the ghost of a tentacle on you, wiping away the excess of tears and snot streaming down your face. It's meant to be comforting, you suppose, but it only hurts you more. <Stop this,> he says. You scoff and shove your face into your knees, refusing him further access. <You are being unreasonable,> he continues. <You had complete access to my mind entire that night. You would have known if any of it was a farce. But if you truly require validation in order to move on from this: You are important to me. I care for and enjoy you in ways that are irrelevant to our mission. But these feelings are distractions. Our mission must come first.>
You stay silent, letting his words bounce around in your brain. He's right, you suppose. He always is, loathe you are to admit it on this day. He already had your devoted allegiance prior to that night. There would have been no need to... no reason to be intimate with you, unless it was something he truly wanted. You're wanted, here, in the present, you can't let yourself get so hung up on his past... And... And on that line of thinking, it occurs to you that you haven't given much thought to your future, beyond 'your mission,' as he put it. Would the Emperor even want anything to do with you, afβ¦
BG3 screenshot of the Emperor scolding an illithid Tav.
(Very late, I've been sick this week... :< )
For day two of
@whirlinginroses.bsky.social's #BG3FirstsWeek: first argument.
The first time Moss was well & truly frustrated with the Emperor was after the whole Ansur... thing. Just too much left unexplained, y'know? ;(
From: ao3.org/works/504037...