“What have you got there, Xehan?” Ansem asked, looking over his apprentice’s shoulder. Rather than answer, Xehanort picked the book up and showed him the cover.
Ansem shook his head. “Those are fairy stories. For children.”
Xehanort pursed his lips. “I think there’s more to them than that. Look, I’ve made a list of the themes that repeat… the princess. The knight-prince. The wicked usurper-mother.”
“Archetypes are just part of the psyche,” Ansem said, letting a drop of blue ice cream drip onto Xehanort’s notebook. The apprentice hurriedly wiped it away.
“I don’t think they just pop up out of nowhere, though,” Xehanort insisted. “It’s the mind recognizing something that’s real.”
“Princesses are just princesses.” Ansem folded his fingers around the now-empty ice cream stick.
Xehanort shook his head. “Not here. Not in this, I don’t think so. Your daughter, or maybe your granddaughter, we could–”
“No. Xehanort, this line of research is getting dangerous. I want you to stop.”
“What? No!” Xehanort stood up, pushing his chair back. “No, you can’t, this is going to work. We could learn–”
“You will not involve my daughter or my granddaughter. That’s final, Xehan, and your reaseach is poppycock. We’re not worrying about keyblades or knights or princesses or whatever other legends you dig up. We do adult work here. Our area of research is hearts and darkness and nothing more. Is that understood?”
Xehanort fiddled with the zipper on his labcoat and sighed. “Yes, my Lord.”
“Good.” Ansem turned to leave, sighed, and turned back. “Remember, Xehan, you need to maintain your focus in science. One line of research at a time. You’ve invested so much in the darkness already, you shouldn’t pass that off for the next clever idea that strikes your fancy. Follow through this, and then I’ll consider a more formal proposal.”
Almost smiling, Xehanort thanked him, and Ansem left the room. He realized that his master was right. There would be time for princesses later, and if the research into darkness provided the results they expected, he wouldn’t need a keyblade to unlock his own heart’s memories.
