Roggi woke slowly the next morning and found himself alone in the room in Candlehearth Hall. Dardeh had already left, no doubt to confront Ulfric. He had an ungodly headache. His rib hurt more. His mouth felt like an unwashed chamber pot. He couldn’t bring himself to rise, not quite yet. All he could do was think, and regret.
I told him, didn’t I. I sat here on the bed and got drunk and told him the very worst things about myself. Gods damn it. Why did I do that? Why?
He’s going to find a good, kind excuse to send me back to Kynesgrove for good, now, because he’s a good, kind man. You need to rest, Roggi, to heal. Or maybe it’ll be something like: it’s dangerous climbing up to High Hrothgar, Roggi, we’ve seen that before, and I don’t want you to be at risk while you’re trying to heal. Something. He’ll find some excuse.
Because how can he have me with him now? Of course he’s going to send me away. He’s the Dragonborn. He’s a good man, a truly good man, and I – am not. I am a piece of dung and someone should have buried me a long time ago. And now he knows.
He closed his eyes again and in spite of everything the memories came, and the thoughts came, and just like all the other times they wouldn’t leave him alone. He would have liked to cry, or scream, or something, anything, but he had already screamed and cried and tried to make it stop, for years, and there had been nothing left but darkness – and deadness. Unfeeling, uncaring darkness. Not even sadness was left. Just…deadness, and the memories that gnawed at him like skeevers gnawing at a rope.
Yes, damn it all, I liked being with Ulfric. I couldn’t believe that I did but I did. I craved it, the time with him. I was so scared, and appalled, the first time. And then I wasn’t, and I couldn’t believe it, and I didn’t even know who I was any more. Gods. Ulfric, you son of a bitch, I was with Briinda and we were going to be married and I might have had a normal life if not for you. And even after we did get married you were always there, in the background, and nothing was normal, at least not for me. My sweet girl, she never knew.
I hated him for what he did to us. But I wanted him all the same. He ruined me.
And I told Dardeh that I did Ulfric’s dirty work, too. I’ve never spoken to another living soul about that part of my life except those who did the same kind of work. Gathering information no matter what it took. But now Dar knows. And nobody wants one of us around, any more than they want the executioners around. Yes, Dardeh, I’m good with a lockpick. But I’m also good with a knife. And embalming tools, and the rack, and all sorts of things you’d rather not know about, the neat little tools wrapped up in a neat little pouch, hiding in the chest by my bed where I keep the mead while I’m at home and tucked in the bottom of my pack when we’re on the road. Like I told Dag, it’s an art form if you do it right and an artist needs his brushes. How could Dar want me around him, now, knowing that? Damn it.
He opened his eyes and looked up at the ceiling. It had been so exciting at first. A young soldier, decent enough at fighting but with a real flair for picking locks, overhearing things, slipping quietly into a crowd, and coming away with valuable information that even a Jarl might have a hard time to find otherwise. Oh yes, and then when the Jarl himself sought you out because his closest advisors had taken notice of you? Gods that had been exciting.
Work for me, Roggi. Do my bidding, Roggi. I’ll see you raised to high places, Roggi.
We’ll show you how to tease out the truth at the end of a sharp blade, bit by painful bit, until the person at the other end of it has no choice but to tell you what you want to know just to make it stop. You’ll be good at that, Roggi.
Oh yes. I’m good at that.
I told Dag that I didn’t recognize the man I became when the bandits killed my family. That was a lie. A flat-out lie. I knew exactly who that man was – who I was – and what I was going to do with the bandits. I’ve been fighting to keep that man buried for years now. Laugh him away, drown him in mead, chip rock until I’m too exhausted to lift my arms, maybe he’ll disappear, and he never does no matter what I do. Ten years. Ten years and I still can’t get away from him.
It doesn’t matter how well I look after my friends in Kynesgrove, try to help Iddra raise that idiot son of hers while Kjeld is off chasing skirts, make sure nobody bothers Dravynea just for being a Dunmer. I can try to keep the sisters safe, give them business when we need new timbers down there, keep Kjeld off them. I can go to godsforsaken Riften and rescue the head of the damned Thieves Guild because I care about him as much as I cared about his wife. Do all the good things you want, Roggi. It doesn’t matter.
That man is still there. He may sink beneath the surface for awhile, and I think I’m safe, but then when I’m not expecting it I look at a knife and suddenly I see the bright red line slowly crawling across smooth skin, and hear the scream… Tell me. Tell me and I’ll make the pain go away. Don’t tell me and I’ll make it worse.
Why am I not Ulfric’s assassin, one of the others asked me once. You’d be good at it. No. I wouldn’t. Assassins are quiet and quick and I want to hear the pain and make it last. Why? I don’t understand it. It’s just how things are.
I thought I had it all under control again until Dag reminded me what it was like to have someone to care about. And to be able to feel again. Feel anything. Anger, pleasure, sadness, the feeling of power when I took down an opponent. Anything at all. And it all came rushing back. Who was I kidding. I was drinking myself right out of my house and into the grave trying to make it all go away. I didn’t have a single thing under control. That’s the only reason I knew what to do for Brynjolf. Experience. Bad experience.
When we walked in there yesterday I thought that if I was alone with him I would not be able to refuse Ulfric, even now. Even as much as I hate him. And he knew it. He could see it when he looked at me.
Except for one thing. Dardeh could keep me from him. He’s the only person who could. Ulfric saw that, too, yesterday. He saw me look at Dar and truly recognize everything. I still can’t believe I didn’t see it before yesterday. I should have realized it when he was leaving for Solstheim and I felt so lost, or when he came back from Solstheim and I was so happy that he came to get me. I didn’t just miss him when he was away because he’s my friend. I don’t just follow him because he’s the Dragonborn. That’s what I told them but that’s not right and I didn’t even realize it until that moment. It’s so much more than that, and it should not be. Ulfric saw that. I’m glad Dar didn’t. He’d be horrified, especially now that he knows the kind of thing I used to do.
And now Dardeh is going to send me away. I know he is. He’s the first ray of light I’ve seen in a very long time, and I don’t know what will happen to me if I’m without him again. It was hard enough when he went to Solstheim. I didn’t realize how much I wanted to be with him until I wasn’t, anymore. If I hadn’t had Brynjolf to take care of, well who knows what I might have ended up doing and no doubt the wrong thing.
Dardeh is special. He’s a good man. He is the light in the room that Dag said I was. He cares about people, and he is taking on the weight of the world for them. I want to be where he is. And… then I look at him and want more than that. By Ysmir, what is the matter with me? I never thought I’d feel like that again, but I do. And I can’t possibly ever tell him. Never.
I’m sure he will end up with Lydia, and why wouldn’t he? She’s so beautiful. I saw how she looks at him. He even said he loves her. Lydia and a daughter, a happy family. And I’ll go back to Kynesgrove and pick away at the rock for the rest of my miserable life, and go home to an empty house every night for the rest of my miserable life and probably find a way to end my miserable life before it’s ready to be ended, even after all of my big words to Brynjolf and Dar. Just to make the pain stop.
You’re a good man, Roggi Knot-Beard. You care about things.
Ha. I’m a former interrogator who cheated on his fiancé with Ulfric damned Stormcloak, and on his friend the head of the Thieves Guild with his wife. That makes me a piece of shit who doesn’t deserve someone as good as the Dragonborn. Not in any lifetime.
I think Ulfric should just have killed me, yesterday. It would have been easy for him. It would have been the kinder thing to do. But that’s probably exactly why he didn’t do it. Sadistic son of a bitch. I need him gone. I need him out of my life. I need…
I need Dardeh to not send me away.