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The International House of Mojo was always one of mystery. True, to the unobserving eye, it would seem at times to be just a store that sold ‘mystical’ items and knick knacks, but for the well-trained pirate, this store held so much.
For Guybrush Threepwood, it held mixed emotions.
It was cryptic and ominous, yet it felt… familiar. Nostalgic, even. Like a home he hadn’t returned to in quite some time. He was never going to step foot in it ever again after the ordeals of the Pox of LeChuck, he swore that to himself as such and that was well over a few years ago now.
Yet here he was, inside the very store he promised himself to never return to. Finding the Voodoo Lady in her seat staring at the cauldron before her.
The reason he was there… the only reason was there was because of one detail during his adventures with the Pox that confused him far more than he cared to admit. He even recalled the scene: the courtroom was bustling with enraged pox-infected pirates, all of them shouting and clamoring for his neck. He cleared the charges of the other four crimes but the last one? He had no evidence to prove himself, especially so when la esponja pequeno proved useless to Elaine who was fully enveloped with the pox by that point. The only thing that spared him, or at least bought him a few more hours before his… inevitable end, was LeChuck, holding the Voodoo Lady’s book that contained information about the Undead Pirate, Elaine and even Guybrush.
The reveal about the woman who guided most of his life as a pirate shattered the ground he once stood on, but after that… well, everything happened. He didn’t have time to process what was his life and his choices and what was fate’s interference, he didn’t have time to grieve the loss he had with those he knew and those he met, he didn’t have time to comprehend what it all meant.
He sought her help in the end, but only because his options to stop the now Demon Pirate God was limited.
Guybrush was here only to solve this final riddle of the string that tied him and the Voodoo Lady together.
The Voodoo Lady looked up at him and gave a small smile, undoubtedly knowing of his arrival much like how she knew of everything else about him, supposedly.
Right, it was now or never, he thought.
“Guybrush Threepwood…” she greeted, “to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit? It has been some time since we last spoke.”
His mind raced, he so badly wanted to verbally lash out, to strike… but that would defeat the purpose of why he was here. Instead, Guybrush took a breath.
“Yeah. Almost ten years, give or take?” He guessed, stepping closer to be on her side of the room.
“About.” She leaned back in her chair. “I see there is something on your mind. Something… troubling. I sense it is about that book LeChuck held all those years ago.”
“Oh, did you sense that or did the fates tell you?” Guybrush slipped, internally cursing himself but only just a little.
The Voodoo Lady didn’t seem all that fazed by the remark. Instead, she placed her hands over her stomach, tilting her head just slightly. “You have a lot on your mind. I do not need the fates to see that. It is written all over your face.”
Guybrush glared, the calm demeanor he attempted to have was rapidly slipping through his fingers. But he bit his tongue, it wasn’t entirely a lie that his face could be readable.
“If it is towards the revelation you had learn, Guybrush, then your anger is–”
“Don’t you go and say it's unjust.” He cut her off sharply. “Don’t.”
“I was not.” She assured him. “It is… misguided, however.”
“Mis… misguided? Misguided?! Really?! You’re going to say that me finding out most of my life, hell, probably all of it, was dictated on a whim by you, from LeChuck of all people is misguided?” He placed his hands on his hips and began pacing slightly, that anger bubbling more and more.
He had to calm down, he knew he did, but he couldn’t find it in him to calm himself. Especially so since her eyes were locked on him with that expression-less face she was sporting.
“Yes. I am.” The Voodoo Lady doubled down. “Your anger is misguided, but not unjust.”
“And let me guess, you won’t tell me why because the ‘fates dictate it so’ or some other nonsense, right?” Guybrush mocked.
She stared at him for an uncomfortable amount of time, letting him pace to and fro in the room.
“While I’m bound to the fates, I am merely a messenger, Guybrush Threepwood. Much like yourself.” She said, her voice calm and steady.
“I’m not.” He countered. “Because I never agreed to be some… some servant to whatever this all is.”
The Voodoo Lady gave a slight nod of acknowledgement. “No one asks, it is simply given.”
But I refuse it, he wanted to say, to stand his ground. But what was done was done, he already acted on fate's accord for so long… completely unaware the whole time. His pacing slowed down as he thought of her words.
“Why me…?” He said out loud instead. “Of all the pirates— no, of all the people in the world… why me?”
“I do not have an answer for this, I’m afraid.”
“Shocker.” Guybrush huffed.
“However,” she continued, “that does not mean I cannot tell you the true meaning of the book LeChuck held.
That stopped Guybrush in his tracks as he looked her way.
“What?” He asked, not believing her.
“I can answer your innermost question. The truth of what binded you and LeChuck, or rather, a clearer explanation.”
“You’re bluffing.”
The Voodoo Lady merely looked his way and gestured to a chair for him to pull up. Guybrush eyed both the woman and the chair before opting to stay standing. The Voodoo Lady just sighed, but didn’t press on the matter.
“Very well.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “What would you like to know?”
He couldn’t comprehend what was going on, the fact she was this open with him after years of ambiguity had him on edge. Guybrush momentarily stared at the floor, trying to think what to ask her first.
“The book… was it… was it really yours?” Guybrush asked, looking up. “Was it yours or did LeChuck lie about that?”
A sadden expression crossed her face, but she composed herself once more. “It is… mine. That was no lie.”
Somewhere, deep inside him, past all the rage and hurt, he so desperately wished it was the latter.
“I tried refraining from telling you of it only because I feared what it would cause. Of the potential rift that would transpire.” She continued.
“I thought you could see all.” He glared. “You should’ve seen that was a possibility.”
“I've said before I can only see as much as the fates allow. I did not foresee him taking the book nor him telling the masses of it.” She glared back. “Much like how you could not foresee his inevitable betrayal.”
Guybrush bit his tongue and looked away.
“Tell me, Guybrush Threepwood,” the Voodoo Lady pressed, “have you read the book for yourself? Or did you merely take the word of your would-be murderer?”
“When could I have had the chance to read it when the world was falling apart from my mistake?!” Guybrush snapped. “Everyone I knew at that moment was infected, wanted my neck or died! And it all fell on me to fix it! I didn’t even have time to grieve, let alone read!”
“So you did not read it. Then you truly do not understand the content within the book. That is to say, LeChuck did not understand.” The Voodoo Lady said, her eyes shifting to the cauldron. “The book chronicled all of LeChuck’s downfall, all of the ways he was to meet his end. His… reasoning towards his inevitability. He could blame the fates, but that obsession he has towards your wife was of his own volition. His spiral into power and desire skewed his mind into such an irreparable state, but that was his own doing. Not the fates.”
“That’s not what he said.” Guybrush said, hating himself for even defending the undead pirate. “He said that his obsession grew because of it. Because it controlled him.”
“Do you not recall what I said in regards to voodoo and the Crossroads?” She stared at him.
“You need a tribute.” He recalled. “A sacrifice or… something like it.”
“An offering.” She corrected him.
“LeChuck never gave, I know that.” He huffed. “Same with how he came back to the Land of the Living. What’s your point?”
“It is easier to blame an entity than it is to take accountability for one's shortcomings.” She said, “He never offered to Nor Treblig, only took. Much like how he took lives and how he took your wife. He never offered himself to be a vessel for the Crossroads, meaning there was nothing to control or dictate his actions.”
“Wait, isn’t Nor Treblig and the fates the same thing?” Guybrush asked, feeling lost somehow.
She shook her head. “Nor Treblig is the keeper of the Crossroads, not of the fates.”
“Hm.”
“When LeChuck read the book, he was angered that the fates had been punishing him, that the fates were getting their rightful pay.” She looked at him. “And that you were the key to his end.”
“This isn’t making the accusation easier.” He pointed out. “You’re just proving his point, he said the book chronicled all of us in extreme detail.”
“The details were immense only of him, Guybrush.” The Voodoo lady said. “Not of you. LeChuck would say anything to make you think otherwise.”
“But still… detailed or not, I’m in that book.” Guybrush frowned, “Was… was I always meant to fight him? Since I first washed up to Melee? Did I really have no say in the matter?”
When she saw that it did little to convince the pirate, the Voodoo Lady contemplated, took a breath, and sat up straight. “You came at the right time. Before you walked into these doors, before you even washed up… LeChuck’s fate had already been sealed. Someone was going to act to bring him to an end. Do you not recall the original plan of your now wife?”
“Well, yeah. The monkeys in a wedding dress… I ruined that one.”
“Yes, but also no.”
The pirate raised a brow.
“While the plan may have been ruined, you barely altered the course of fate.” The Voodoo Lady explained. “Elaine Marley had a plan, but the fates foresaw another being bringing LeChuck to an end… it never said you.”
“So I literally stumbled into fate, that’s what you’re saying.” His frown stayed on his face and his eyes to the floor.
“I am saying that something in your nature guided you alongside fate’s path.”
At that he looked up.
She waved a hand over the cauldron. “Whenever there was a crisis, whether you were the cause or not, you constantly sought means to make amends. Whether it was the root beer, the voodoo doll, a ring, a sword, or a sponge, you never asked for more than what was needed. Because you, Guybrush, never sought power for yourself… it only ever came at the expense of healing, to make amends. It was noticed.”
“And… the fates used you to help me. Is that what you’re saying?” His voice was low, his arms wrapped loosely around himself.
“Yes.” The Voodoo Lady looked at him. “It is why the views of what was to be was hazy in the past, but what was needed was clear. The fates could only guide so much… especially in regards to you.”
“What does this have to do with the book and what LeChuck said?” He then said, “I feel like you’re avoiding that.”
“Your tactics for a solution are unorthodox both in the realm of voodoo and outside of it. It made things difficult to pin what was to be, compared to LeChuck who was predictable in his end… for the most part.” The Voodoo Lady clarified.
He looked at the cauldron. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew what she meant by ‘most part’. He recalled yelling at the Voodoo Lady then in regards to LeChuck’s betrayal, in regards to Elaine becoming a Demon Bride. The Voodoo Lady had, in return, pointed out how Guybrush couldn’t predict LeChuck to murder Morgan… he had thought it was DeSinge until Morgan (angrily) explained to him his fault.
“The fates,” she pressed on, “could see with clarity LeChuck until your death. And whenever he reemerges, the fates come to me as a warning of his return. It just so happens to overlap with you and your wife considering his obsession with her. That is the long and short of it.”
“You couldn’t have just said that?”
“Would you have believed me?”
“...No. I guess I wouldn’t.” Guybrush sighed. “So, if LeChuck ever comes back, I’m just supposed to fight him on? Forever?”
“Sadly, I can not tell you. But that being said, while I can not say why the fates chose you, what the calling was or how it was decided, whatever it was, whatever it is, there is no doubt that you answered them, openly and willingly. And that is more than enough for the fates to call upon you.” She smiled a little. “Even when you went against both order and fate, setting out your own path, one that I could not help you with, you somehow manage to set the world back in order.”
“Like an annoying maid.” He said dejectedly, jumping just slightly when he heard a chuckle. Guybrush looked up and saw the Voodoo Lady smiling a bit more.
“Maybe so.” She agreed. “But perhaps… it is best to view it not as such, but rather an extension of the fates. A guardian.”
“Guardian?” He scoffed.
“Yes, if I am a messenger, you are the guardian. After all, you have always thwarted LeChuck when the Crossroads were in danger, and fate never intervened with your life unless LeChuck appeared.”
Guybrush looked to the side, that bubbling fury he felt calming down much like the contents in the cauldron.
“You were never the puppet master, were you?” He said in a soft voice. “You were just as much at the whims of whatever… this is as all of us. Granted, a more direct line to said fates but, still.”
“As I have said, your feelings were not unjust…”
“...Just misguided.” He recalled. “Right.”
The silence lingered in the room and the Voodoo Lady took that momentary reprieve to stay quiet. Guybrush contemplated all that was said, knowing that it wasn’t often that she was as open as she was to him just now. In a way, there was a feeling of relief that she did say as much as she did, even though he felt still at some sort of loss with everything. There wasn’t a clear answer if he was fated to arrive or if he stumbled into it, regardless of what the Voodoo Lady had said… and Elaine fought hard to get Guybrush away from her. Though now, he figured, it was mostly to find a way to end whatever it was that tethered him to this unwanted fate.
To find peace.
And wasn’t that what the Voodoo Lady wanted as well? She set him off to heal Elaine, to thwart LeChuck, to guide him when they came back from their honeymoon. The mistakes and bumps that happened, such as messing up and using inappropriate ingredients for things like the voodoo doll and the sword, that wasn’t her fault… that was his own. He couldn’t forget the look of anger and horror on her face when he told her he made ‘substitutions’.
That was just another mistake on his every growing mountain of mistakes.
He pursed his lips and his brows furrowed.
She did guide him on how to recover his decaying body… how to repair the tears in the fabric of reality… how to defend himself against a vengeful and angry LeChuck way back then.
“I… I understand what you’re saying… kind of.” Guybrush spoke slowly, “but that reveal of there being a book detailing things regarding me and Elaine, and that I had to hear it from LeChuck of all people. It stings. And more to that…”
He stopped for a moment, holding himself a little tighter as he stared to the floor before continuing.
“More to that, I wish you trusted me enough to tell me this in the first place. I’m already doing fate’s work for them, why not just tell me?” He stared at her sharply. “You owed me at least that.”
The Voodoo Lady returned the gaze, though hers had some more warmth to it… sympathy, even.
“I fear if I had told you, the pressure of it would have been unbearable. Tell me, do you think you still would have answered the call? Knowing your life was dedicated to the fates?” She asked.
Guybrush pondered, his gaze falling elsewhere and slowly shook his head. “Realistically… no, probably not. Probably would have done everything I could to fight it.”
“Which you did once LeChuck revealed to you the book.” She pointed out. “You fought both fate and the natural order.”
He couldn’t disagree… he, as did Elaine, fought against the world once they found out.
“Does Elaine know? About all of this?” He asked.
“Not in detail, but she is sharp. I have no doubt she picked something up, why else would she adamantly avoid me?” The Voodoo Lady said, suppressing a knowing smirk. “But, I think it would be best if you explained to her what I told you.”
“Yeah… you’re probably right.” Guybrush rubbed his arms. “Say, why are you only now being this open with me? You have never been the type to openly say, well, anything.”
“Because I believe that it is only fair that I explain to you to the best of my ability what I do… or rather, to the best of what I am permitted. I do not hold things from you out of malice, but rather out of protection for the natural order of both the spirit and living realm.”
“I see… that makes some sense.” He sighed and stood up. “I… I have a lot to process. But… thank you. For telling me. I…I’m still mad at you, though.Not as angry but still hurt. And I can’t bring myself to forgive you. Not yet, anyways.”
“I understand, these things take time. I would not hold you to any form of reconciliation by force.”
“Do you see that happening in the future?” Guybrush asked. “Forgiveness?”
She simply smiled as the two looked at one another.
“That is up to you to decide, Guybrush Threepwood.”