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Mollari,
Over the past few years, I have discovered that writing holds great therapeutic value to me. However, being in a shuttle with a telepath does not provide the same kind of revelatory opportunities for novel-crafting as, say, a galaxy-wide conflict of deadly proportions. No great books shall be written by me again, but nevertheless, I need some sort of vehicle for my thoughts. Letter-writing was a hobby of mine as a young thing—my friends and I would scribble out secret messages to one another and pass them along as if we were spies in the Centauri Resistance. Now I write again, not to my friend, but to my bitter enemy.
Why I chose you I will never know, Mollari. You will likely cast these letters into the fire as soon as they reach Your Imperial Highness, but they will be written nonetheless. Prepare yourself.
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Mollari,
I find that traveling the stars with a woman like Lyta Alexander, thrilling as it may be, leaves me with very little time to reflect. She is a rather loquacious woman, given the opportunity. We talk about many things, she and I—her topics mostly consist of her concerns for her people, finding them a place in the galaxy, avenging the many pains that have been inflicted upon them. I find that their predicament is, in a way, similar to that of the Narns when they were overtaken by your people. We were seen as commodities, as sub-sentient creatures. And we were feared by your people. Yes, I enjoy talking to Lyta Alexander a great deal.
Nevertheless, the only time I get to reflect these days is when she sleeps beside me in her flight chair. Then, I lean back and think of when you and I were together on Babylon 5. Ironic, I know, for most of those days were filled with hatred and grief, and much anger. But I enjoy thinking upon them. I enjoy thinking upon you.
I wonder why that is?
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Mollari,
Ms. Alexander and I were involved in a rather violent bar fight this evening. A group of aliens attempted to proposition her for money. Needless to say, I shall never question her worthiness in battle. It is astonishing to watch her sometimes, Mollari. I recall stories told on Babylon 5 of her strange connection to the Vorlons, of her…questionable humanity. Only now do I wonder just how many of them are simply rumors.
Today I also tried some of that drink you loved so much—hot jala, that is the name. I was not very much impressed, but perhaps it is better when taken with old friends.
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Mollari,
I dreamt deeply last night, dreamt of the day I intoxicated myself with dust and invaded your mind. It was a nightmare for me as much as it was for you. I saw things inside of you that terrified me, shocked me…that changed me. I cannot tell you what they were; I believe that they were for me alone, and still believe that to this day. But there is no denying this: despite the hatred of you that seethed in my heart, despite my all-consuming desire to rip you apart, it was somehow you who changed me for the better.
Strange, is it not, how fate weaves its curious webs? I wonder at it sometimes: how could such visions emerge from your mind? Why did they choose to manifest themselves at that moment? Perhaps fate decided that I was near my limit, almost beyond redemption. Perhaps it wanted me to avoid your fate, Mollari. I certainly do not envy you the cards you have been dealt. There are even times when I wish I could grant you the opportunity for another hand.
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Mollari,
I hear that things on Centauri Prime are growing more and more difficult. As much as I expected this to please me, as much as I thought I would be amused by the poetic justice of your gleaming cities in flames, I find that with most things I am stricken with a great sadness. The cycle of life demands destruction and creation, but this suffering goes above and beyond all of that. I can only pray that whatever afflicts you and your people will be somehow relieved.
The more I ponder our relationship, Mollari, the more I am puzzled by it. We have never been terribly close, and yet since I left Babylon 5 with Lyta Alexander, I have shared with you things that I have never told another living being. I suppose it had been a whim at first, but now I cannot sleep without first pouring my thoughts into yet another letter. I am sure that when you find these, they will strike you as very amusing. I welcome that: I think you need as much joy in your life as you can get, even if it is at my expense.
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Mollari,
We passed a planet today that reminded me of Narn, before it was stripped bare by your people. Did you ever see it? Truth be told, it was much like your own: green forests, fruitful plains, vast winding rivers. I wonder if your people—the ones responsible for its destruction—looked upon it and thought the same. Or, perhaps, they only saw what they wanted to see: valuable assets.
Now your world, like mine, is in flames. As much as I would like to say the Centauri deserve this fiery retribution, I understand the pain of a dead planet, of a suffering race. I pity those who have been affected by what is no doubt something of your doing. You have a knack for that, you know. Decision-making has never been much your strong suit, Mollari.
Nevertheless, I cannot help but think that somewhere inside of you there is one last good, noble choice to be made. I hope that when it presents itself to you, you welcome it. It could very well be your salvation, Mollari, from whatever darkness you have unleashed.
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Mollari,
I find my mind wandering to you once again. I remember, months ago, when I told you to pray we never saw each other again, that you no longer existed in my universe. I realize now that this could not have been further from the truth. In the years that followed that day, we grew closer than I have even been to a Centauri. I did not realize just how close until we parted ways. I suppose it is better that I chose this path, rather than that of my people. They would not have understood.
I want to see you again, Mollari. Perhaps, one day when my wanderings are done, I will.
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Mollari
I am sure you found that last letter most disconcerting. Let me reassure you that you are not, in fact, insane—at least, not regarding this particular issue. I am not entirely sure what came over me. What I am sure of is that it was real. Mollari, you and I are inextricably linked, that much cannot be denied. The nature of that link, however, is so strange and complex that I do not think I can ever hope to understand it. You have caused me more pain than any one being should cause another, and yet I am drawn to you. You are a criminal to my people and yours, you are a liar and a murderer, and yet I find you almost endearing.
I find that concept as terrifying as you do.
Why I choose this moment to reveal these things to you I do not know. Perhaps it is easier to do in writing than in speech. I know I could never say these things to you; even if I tried, the words would never come as fluidly as they do in my written hand. You will have to forgive me for that. Be assured, however, that they are true. Time is short, Mollari. Lives are short. I have learned that the things that are most important make themselves known to you as time diminishes. Strange that those things should be all for you.
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Mollari,
Lyta has fallen ill, and so it has fallen to me to tend to her. She has tried to convince me that it is a simple “cold”, but her body rages with fever and her body is wracked with cough. It has been years since I have practiced the humble remedies my mother taught me in my childhood. The last time I did so was when I was perhaps nine years old. I stumbled across a wounded val while foraging for herbs in the city limits. It was like—what is that human saying—seeing a ghost. Your people nearly wiped them out, you know. It had a large, seething gash in its side. The blood was stifled, but only because pus had blocked the wound. It was a horrid sight, and the smell was even worse, but I knelt beside it all the same and tended to it.
It died beneath my hands.
My father would later tell me that I should have simply put it out of its misery, that its fate had already been decided. Is that the nature of all things in this universe, I wonder? I hope for your sake, Mollari, that it is not, for I fear that if it does prove true, yours fate has already been decided…and it is a dreary one, indeed.
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Mollari,
I have a question: have you ever been truly in love? Humans make much of the emotion, much more than any race I have ever known. Lyta has spoken to me at times of men she has loved, women she has loved. What does that mean, I wonder? The Minbari dedicate their lives to one another’s honor and dignity. The Centauri ideal is to share pleasure and delight above all things. We Narn treasure brotherhood and unity. All of those things are commendable, but I think that there is more. I think that love, true and real love, transcends all of those things. It is unbelievable, for example, that a man like John Sheridan should fall in love with a Minbari, or that the Ranger Marcus Cole would give his life to save a woman who never returned his affection.
Perhaps love is a form of insanity, which then makes me wonder…have I gone insane as well?
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Mollari,
Humans have a strange tradition that crossed my mind today. When things are going badly for them, when they have nowhere else to turn to, humans—especially children, it seems—look into the night sky and wish upon the first star they see in the night sky. What does that accomplish, I wonder? Wishing upon a flaming ball of gas? I suppose it is a trick to soothe young humans; they have many of those, it seems. Regardless, I cannot deny that there are times in my life when I wish I could have had the reassurance that no matter what, there is someone or something listening.
Perhaps you should try it, Mollari. It could not hurt.
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Mollari,
This will be the last letter I write you for a long time. We have gone so far off the “beaten road”, as the humans say, that even if I were to write them they would likely never reach you. When you do receive these letters, I am sure you will find them most amusing. As I said before, the sheer irony of all this is mindboggling even to me, but there it is, nonetheless. I wanted to write them, and I want you to read them. I want you to understand how I feel about you, even if there will never be any true understanding for either of us. Perhaps when I have finished my wanderings, Mollari, I will come to you in person and try to describe it further. Unfortunately, I believe it is beyond words. That is how…love…works.
Goodbye, old friend. We will meet again.
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My dear friend G’kar,
Your letters did exactly as you predicted they would. They astonished me, and at first even infuriated me. “How dare he write such things to me?”, I asked myself. Our lives for so long have been defined by our all-encompassing hatred of one another. As I sit here alone in my throne room, with the curtains drawn and the doors locked, I find that of all people, I want to see you. You were right: the irony is nearly laughable.
Your adventures sound infinitely more interesting than anything I have done over the past months. I cannot describe to you how slow my days and nights have been since becoming Emperor. I wish I could put everything in writing, as you have. But it is not my place to do so. I cannot bring myself to form the words. Perhaps, when you do return, I shall have a better chance. I hope that I can muster the will.
I am flattered by your words, G’kar, and…relieved by them. I did not want to believe that I was the only one going insane in this world.
As ever, I remain your good friend,
Emperor Mollari II
Londo