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“You’re telling me there’s been a dragon down there the entire time?” Gortash frowns, “I seriously doubt that. Someone would have found it by now.”
“I’m telling you there was a dragon down there,” Teddy corrects him, “There's not anymore. We took care of it.”
Gortash blinks at him. Frankly, an undead dragon isn’t even the strangest thing that he and his companions have faced in the past few months. It felt almost normal. Heroes—he’s not sure that he’s a hero, but he’s planning to act heroic, so it was mostly just wordplay—slayed dragons. Sometimes those dragons were undead ex-probably lovers of the Mindflayer that lives in a prism that Teddy keeps in his pocket.
Sure. Why not.
“I’ll tell you the story. Sit down.”
He paces the office while he talks, mostly because he’s still covered in scorch marks and blood and Gortash always complains if he gets blood on the furniture. Gortash watches him carefully, one arm flung over the back of the sofa, clearly unbothered by this new piece of information.
“So what you’re telling me,” he says, when Teddy finishes his story, “Is the dragon that lives—lived below Wyrm’s Rock was friends or maybe more with the founder of the city who is now a Mindflayer that lives in a prism you keep in your pocket?”
“Well don’t say it like that. I’m not insane, if that’s what you’re thinking. It doesn’t sound strange when I say it in my head.”
“Well your head is full of worms,” Gortash points out.
Teddy rolls his eyes fondly and doesn’t say anything.
“Stop the pacing. Just sit down. I’m sure the blood will come out of the fabric.”
Teddy sits.
“Why would they do that to each other?” Gortash asks, “Not everybody is as fucked up as we are.”
“I think they must have loved each other very much,” Teddy frowns, “Would you kill me, if I started to lose myself like that?”
“I haven’t in the past and you have certainly been more animal than person at various times,” Gortash says, “Even though others probably would have killed you. I suppose if you became a Mindflayer—well if you were still you then I’d still love you. Actually, it might help us in the future if you were a Mindflayer. Have you considered becoming one?”
Teddy thinks about the partial transformation he’s already undergone. He knows the black, spidery veins across his face are a clear indication of something going on under the surface, but Gortash has never appeared to care. Mostly, because he’d just been too happy to have Teddy back, in whatever form. Accepting the Astral tadpole had made good sense. They all needed all the power they could get for the upcoming battle.
“If I were to kill you,” Gortash crosses one leg over the other, “It wouldn’t be over something as trivial as an Illithid transformation.”
“You couldn’t kill me if you tried,” Teddy points out, “But I would probably let you. Maybe the Emperor—Balduran—loved Ansur too. I don’t know. I can’t figure out what to think about all this. It was a shock, to say the least. And I can’t stop thinking about it.”
Maybe it was born of love. If Ansur loved Balduran—and Teddy thinks he probably loved him very much—then it’s not unreasonable that he didn’t want him to become a Mindflayer. He’s not entirely sure he’d want Gortash to become a Mindflayer. He’s not sure he wants anybody to become a Mindflayer, himself included. But would he kill Gortash over it?
“When you think so hard it looks like you’re in pain,” Gortash says. He brushes a thumb along one of the black veins splattered across Teddy’s face. The transformation had been surprising but Teddy finds it a small price to pay for the power it gives him. Minthara was the only one of his companions who had agreed wholeheartedly and thus, she was the only one Teddy had given the new tadpole too.
“I don’t think I could kill you unless you wanted me to,” Teddy says softly. Since ridding himself of Bhaal, he no longer feels compelled to kill but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t like it. He wonders how much of him was Bhaal and how much was his own free will. He’d be lying if he said he was a good person. He is certainly not a good person. But he doesn’t have to be compelled anymore. He can have autonomy, something he’s never been allowed before.
Besides. There are plenty of people in the world who are evil because they like it. Teddy thinks he could be a very good criminal. That’s a very normal job. It might be good for him. Could he and Gortash— but there would be time for that later, after the Absolute was put down for good.
“I certainly refuse to be killed by anyone else,” Gortash frowns, “What happened between this dragon and Balduran was a very long time ago. It’s unlike you to be so bothered by some poor sods and their tragic romance.”
“It just feels like that could be us. You know, if you had morals and I sought out power a little harder.”
“I have morals.”
Teddy laughs so hard that it apparently surprises Gortash. It seems like such an odd thing to say that he can’t help but laugh. What has Gortash surprised, he doesn’t know.
“What?” he asks, composing himself.
“Nothing,” Gortash smiles, “I haven’t heard you laugh like that in a long time and it’s a nice sound. Not much to laugh about, I suppose.”
“You might have morals, Enver, but I don’t think they’re objectively good. But that’s alright. I still love you.”
“You’re one to talk about morals, Bhaalspawn.”
“Not anymore,” Teddy points out, “I don’t know. What do you think? What can I be without my father?”
“Stronger. Better.”
Teddy thinks about it. Really thinks about it. Ansur had only been trying to save Balduran from himself. From turning into a soulless mindflayer. But Balduran had liked being Illithid. Did Teddy like being a Bhaalspawn? Once he had, but it was the only thing he knew. Without his memories he hadn’t been anything except a man who needed a healer.
And now he’s free of Bhaal, of his father, and he doesn’t know what to do.
Before the Nautiloid, Teddy had sometimes tiptoed around the idea of somehow breaking free of his father. But he assumed it was impossible, and therefore refused to really discuss it. He would pay for his relationship with Gortash one day, and that would be that. His future was stretched out in front of him, neatly tied with a ribbon and waiting for him. Now it’s all been tossed into the wind.
“We’ll be fine,” Gortash says, so sincerely, that Teddy thinks he must be right. The plan is good-- maybe even infallible-- and so Teddy figures he ought to be confident about the thing, “Aren’t we always fine?”