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Tav arrived at the Children's Home as promised.
The audience tonight was larger than usual. Aside from the excited children, even the tavern keeper, who usually cared only for his ledgers, and the weary workers from the Stonemasons' Guild had squeezed in. The originally spacious hall was filled with anticipation, making it feel somewhat cramped.
Tav looked around, a perfect, mask-like smile surfacing on her face: the trademark expression of the "Hero of Baldur's Gate." Indeed, who could refuse an epic tale of unity and victory? Especially when the legend's protagonist was right before their eyes.
She sat in that familiar spot, her fingers resting on her lute.
When the first note flowed out like a stream, the noisy crowd fell silent instantly, as if a Silence spell had been cast. The world was left with only the crackling of the hearth fire, its light dancing in everyone's eager pupils.
The story began. No, tonight was the grand finale; the story was drawing to a close.
We have already sung the chapters of that Emperor before, but seeing as there are many new friends here tonight, allow me to strum the strings and take everyone back briefly.
The Emperor first descended as the hero's Guardian. Clad in gilded armor, he met the hero on the other side of dreams. In countless moments of life and death, he pointed out the direction through the mist for her.
Although the knight in the dream eventually shed his disguise, revealing beneath the golden armor the visage of a mind flayer that makes ordinary men tremble, our hero accepted the truth in a single second: she stood side by side with the Emperor, repelling the hunters from the Astral Plane.
The hero said, "You could have told me sooner."
The Emperor said, "If I had known you were such an open-minded person, I could have saved myself a lot of trouble."
The music became brisk, like two souls dancing together.
They were the most harmonious allies in the world, until that final choice lay before them: Should they release the imprisoned Githyanki Prince?
It seemed like a deadlock. On one side, absolute freedom; on the other, absolute survival. The shadow of the Netherbrain had already shrouded Baldur's Gate, and all calculations seemed pale before absolute power.
The Emperor refused. As a mind flayer, releasing the Prince meant certain doom.
If the Prince regained his freedom, his first strike would cut down the Emperor, and his second would pierce the hero who had aided the tyrant.
The stalemate seemed unbreakable. But in legendary tales, the hero always has a third choice.
Tav swept a string of impassioned notes across the lute.
She spoke of their past, the life and death they experienced together, the confidences shared in the depths of dreams. Finally, the hero stood before the Emperor and swore an oath to her Guardian:
"I will not let him hurt you. If his sword seeks blood, it must first pierce my chest."
"If it truly comes to the irrevocable, then run. Run to the end of the stars, and wait for the next freedom, the next hero."
The Emperor's heart, long since grown cold, was touched. Thus, the hero wielded the hammer from the Hells and shattered the shackles of many years.
The Emperor was moved. Thus, the hero took out the hammer seized from the Hells and released the Prince who had been imprisoned for years.
As expected, the moment the Prince broke free, he roared: "Brain-eating mongrel! Ally to my abuser. Prepare to face my vengeance!"
But the hero stood between the blades of two cosmic archenemies. Even though the blade was already against her throat, she shouted:
"We have no time for vengeance. We have a greater problem to solve."
"Put down your sword. The one behind me is the only mind flayer willing to save the world!"
"A mind flayer with its own mind?" The Prince paused in surprise. "This is like the stuff of fables, as if I am experiencing the legend of Orylldoll."
"You are the illithid Ulrengarth, opposing the will of the hive. And I am the noble Varsh. Now I must reconsider my stance."
The Prince sheathed his sword, his gaze burning: "If your intentions are truly as righteous as you display, then this would be an advantage I cannot ignore. And an advantage that must be firmly grasped, for our common enemy is indeed terrifyingly powerful."
"Very well, I propose an alliance."
Under the hero's witness, the Emperor extended his hand:
"I accept. I hereby ally with you."
The most impossible alliance was born. When they pushed open the gates, all their former allies were waiting there. In the face of a common enemy, all hatred melted away. How could a mere Netherbrain stand against this miraculous bond?
And so, as everyone knows, the Netherbrain was defeated, and the conspiracy of the Dead Three was crushed once again. Baldur's Gate still stands tall above the harbor.
The music stopped.
A thunderous round of applause and cheers erupted in the hall. People departed one after another with satisfied smiles, looking as if they had just quaffed a glass of fine wine.
Only Tav remained seated, watching as the children were herded back to bed. Just before falling into dreams, a little girl struggled drowsily to ask:
"So... what happened to the Guardian afterwards? And the Prince?"
She fell into a deep sleep before waiting for the answer.
Tav fiddled with the die-shaped prism in her hand and softly gave the ending that no one heard:
"The Emperor rebuilt the Knights of the Shield and restarted his trade empire; the Prince rode a red dragon home, leading his people to cut off the Lich Queen's head; and the hero went to the place she wanted to go most, living happily ever after with the one she loved."
Everyone received a perfect, fairytale ending.
"Are you alright, my love?"
The hero's lover settled the children and walked over, asking softly.
Tav raised her head, the grand smile on her face having already faded. She forced herself to perk up: "I'm fine. The hero in the fairytale is just tired and needs to rest."
So they extinguished the lights and walked toward home. Behind them, the hearth fire finally burned out, leaving only a pile of pale ash cooling rapidly in the darkness.
"What happened to the Guardian in the end, and the Prince?"
The Guardian did not yield. Out of fear, he defected to the Netherbrain. In the final battle, he stood on the opposite side of the hero and was killed by the hero like a traitor. No bones remained, as if there had never been any trust or friendship.
The Prince did not ride a dragon home. To use the stones, the Prince voluntarily transformed into a mind flayer. He saved the world, but could never set foot on his homeland again in this life. In his final moment of lucidity, he begged the hero to end his life.
There were no fairytale miracles.
"You didn't do anything wrong, my love. You did the best you could." Halsin wrapped his arms around the despondent Tav; it was the tenderness the mortal hero craved most at that moment.
Tav nodded, grateful for the comfort.
By the moonlight, she tossed the twenty-sided prism in her hand high into the air. It spun and fell, and when it landed back in her palm, a dreamt-of 20 was facing her.
If only you could have trusted me a little more back then.
If only I hadn't been so conceited about my eloquence.
If only what they said in fairytales was true.
The only winner in the story suddenly stopped in her tracks, as if remembering some incredibly absurd joke. Mocking herself, she said to her lover:
"Do you know? Later, I looked up the ancient scrolls. That fable about the Githyanki Varsh and the illithid Ulrengarth... it was actually true!"