Andante waited until they were well inside the door before speaking to Brynjolf. He gazed from one golden eye to the other, trying to fathom what might be going on behind them, and failing. All he knew was that where there had been a shimmering warmth inside him, the fire that had led him to create a ring that symbolized it, there was now an icy dread.
“So. You have a son.”
“So it seems, lad,” Brynjolf said, stepping closer. His face read confusion, heartbreak, love, and a dozen other emotions at the same time. “That child… and Dag.”
“I know. It’s hard to imagine. Bryn,” he said, hesitating a bit, “please don’t be angry with me but I knew that Sayma was Dagnell.”
Brynjolf’s eyebrows shot up.
“What?”
“Only for just a short time, Bryn. Roggi and I, and Delvin – we figured out a way to trick her into revealing herself. She didn’t even know she was being tricked.” He shook his head. “I can only assume that Roggi and Dardeh were here to call her on it. I can’t imagine why else they would have been here. But I can promise you none of us had a single idea about the boy. I’m just as shocked as you are.”
Brynjolf drew in a deep breath and opened his mouth as if to say something, then dropped his shoulders. “I don’t know what to do now.”
Andante smiled sadly. “Well there’s only one thing you can do, loverboy. You need to be a father. If you can.”
“Andante,” Brynjolf said, with a sad smile. “How can I do that? How could it work out? Look at what we are. We’re vampires. You’re the Lord of Volkihar castle. Falion’s dead, and that’s what I’ll be forever. I’m your Second. I’m good at being Second.” He grinned. “There’s no way around it. And we’ve been together. You even gave me a ring.”
Andante snorted, interrupting him. “It had better work out, Brynjolf, after all the talk about the Guild being family and all that. You’ve subjected all of us to that too long for you to abandon the idea now.” He laughed. “Yeah, I made a ring for you, Bryn. I… felt like that was something that I needed to do. I wanted you to have a little bit of me to keep nearby. It felt good, and I’ll never forget that smile when you looked at it.” He reached up and touched Brynjolf’s face. That was one of the happiest moments I can ever remember.
“But seriously. Look at that boy, Bryn. He’s beautiful. He’s … you. He needs his father. I know that he does. I didn’t have a father, at least not one that I remember, and I’m certain things might have been better if I had. Maybe I wouldn’t have ended up being such a bad influence.”
Brynjolf laughed, and smiled again, a smile of genuine affection.
“Yes we’ve been together.” And gods, I would do anything for you. Vitus wouldn’t – but I would. “But I’m not your family.”
Brynjolf shook his head. “It’s just not that simple, lad,” he said. “I can’t just suddenly be a father. I barely remember my own.”
He turned and walked a few paces away, toward the sea quietly lapping up against the shoreline, shaking his head. Andante followed him at a distance, wondering what was going on.
Then, without warning, he felt the strange tingling between his shoulders that he’d felt before – the feeling that he was being targeted from behind. He turned to both sides and scanned the shoreline again, then the horizon. He saw nothing, but that didn’t matter.
They’re coming. I knew they would be.
Brynjolf returned to him and, to his complete surprise, wrapped his arms around Andante loosely. He smiled, another smile that went up to his eyes.
“Listen, lad. It’s not like a switch that you can throw and just change your life like that. She’s been gone for a long time now, and I’ve been with you. I can’t just forget the time we’ve spent together.” His voice dropped, softer, and his eyes followed suit. “Don’t you understand that? Truly?”
For a moment, Andante’s heart stopped. What is he telling me?
They gazed at each other for a long moment, neither one saying what was on his mind.
Then Brynjolf continued.
“I can’t pretend she didn’t leave me, hurt Roggi. I can’t pretend you don’t exist.”
Ah, I was imagining things. He doesn’t love me. He wasn’t trying to tell me a single thing. I don’t know why I got my hopes up.
“You’ll never forget I exist. Remember? You’d miss me if I were lost.” Andante leaned forward and kissed him, slowly. His mouth is so sweet. I will never kiss another.
It came to him then, the knowledge of that thing that he’d been looking for, the thing he’d left unfinished, the thing he had to do. For a moment that felt like an eternity he continued to hold Brynjolf, savoring his touch. Then he nodded to himself. It was time.
“I have something I want to give you, Brynjolf,” Andante said slowly.
“What?”
“Just… stand here a moment and I’ll show you.” He dropped his hands and stepped back from Brynjolf, took a deep breath, then started gathering magic.
Andante had a spell, a very important spell, one he had never used before and had never intended to use under any circumstances. Not even Nocturnal’s promise to release Dynjyl from the Soul Cairn if Brynjolf was whole had been enough to make him consider it. But now, he knew, it was time. It took him a few moments to gather enough energy and to remember all of the elements of the spell. Once he had it he was going to have to cast it quickly, before Brynjolf could stop him from doing it.
He opened his mind, smiled at Brynjolf, and cast the spell, using both hands to make certain that its force was strong enough. Brynjolf instinctively raised his shield and drew his sword as a golden glow enveloped and swirled around him. His illusion dissipated and his yellow eyes flickered under the aura of the spell Andante had cast.
Brynjolf jumped. “What is this?” he yelped. “What did you just do to me?”
Andante lowered his hands and smiled sadly. “Do you remember the day we went to have Falion cure me?”
Brynjolf frowned. “Of course I do.”
“He said I was human again. ‘Just like the rest of us,’ he said, and then he pointed at you and said ‘Except him.’”
“What does that have to do with anything at all, Andante? What is going on here?”
“He took me aside, remember? And what he did was teach me this spell. Tollere Sanguinare. It’s a spell to cure someone that I had turned. I… wasn’t ever going to use it. Because I’m a greedy son of a bitch, Brynjolf, and I wanted you to be like me. I wanted you to be with me, forever, the two of us in Volkihar, starting our own clan of vampires. That’s what I’ve wanted ever since I saw the damnable castle. But… I just cast it on you. You’ll be human again in, well, not very long.”
He started to say something brave, something witty, and it just caught in his throat.
“Please, Brynjolf. I know you can find a way to become a vampire again easily enough, but don’t. You have to be a father, Bryn. And maybe you can work it out again with Sayma – with Dag. You can’t do that if you’re hiding from the rest of the world half the time just because a selfish bastard … wants you for himself.”
Brynjolf was standing with his mouth open. The spell took a while to take full effect, but already his eyes were reverting to their original emerald green as opposed to the artificial green of the illusion. Andante sniffled, looking at the fangs slowly receding.
“Heh,” he said, half laughing, half crying. “You were the most beautiful vampire I’ve ever seen.”
“Lad,” Brynjolf breathed, reaching up to touch his own face, realizing the changes going on in him. “You should have asked me first.” He dropped his hands and glowered at Andante, then shouted. “You should have asked me first!”
“And you would have said no, for all the wrong reasons, and then the idiots who are running this way right now to kill the vampire would have put you and your family in danger.”
Brynjolf’s head snapped up and he scanned the shoreline. There was nobody in sight, and Andante couldn’t hear them yet but he knew they were coming. He’d felt them, following at a distance, for a long time now. They weren’t going to let live the creature who could blot out the sun; and besides, Ondolemar would pay them handsomely.
“Damn, I can’t hear anymore,” he said. “Damn you, Andante! Who said that I wanted to be cured?”
Andante smiled sadly.
“Nobody said that,” he answered. “Listen, Brynjolf. This is important. I have to tell you a bunch of things, quickly, while I have this chance, so just listen, please? There are some words I’ve never used before, and I want to share them with you.”
I have to say this. I may never have another chance and I’ve never wanted anything so badly.
Andante gazed at him, taking in the way he looked, memorizing every line so that he would never forget. He took a deep breath. “I love you, Brynjolf. I love you.” He smiled. “By the gods that felt good to say, finally. I’m sure you knew it already, but still. I love you. I have loved you from the beginning, even when you were telling me to get lost. I just love you. So much.”
He smiled at Brynjolf’s stunned expression. Then Brynjolf smiled, just a tiny smile.
“You’ve actually told me that before, lad, but I’m not surprised if you don’t remember it. In the Vale. You were falling asleep and you told me you loved me.”
Andante laughed.
“So I wasn’t dreaming that after all. And you told me that you knew. I’m a fool, then, and you’ve known it all this time. I’m glad that’s the case. Still, Bryn…. I love you.” He laughed. “By all the gods I love you, Brynjolf. So much.” He grinned. “I think I’ve just made up for lost time, telling you that so many times in a row.”
Then he shook his head.
“But I can’t come close. I couldn’t come close to Dynjyl and I am not even a poor substitute for those people, in there. They’re your family.” He threw his head back and laughed. “It’s just so damned ridiculous. The Dragonborn is your brother-in-law. The Listener is your wife. And you have a son. A beautiful child.”
His voice dropped, became softer and colder, and he caught Brynjolf’s gaze and made sure he was holding it fast. “I used to… kill children, Bryn. That’s the kind of man I am. Wonderful, eh? I killed children. Just because they were there. And because I don’t like them. They remind me of what life was like for me, when I was a child. And I probably would have killed many more of them if the Thalmor hadn’t beaten my life out of me.”
He looked at Brynjolf’s horrified expression and then down at the ground.
I wish I could cry. I wish I could cry for those children. But I can’t. I don’t have it in me. I don’t… feel anything. I barely even feel regret. When I killed them it was because I wanted them to be gone. And then they were. And I don’t feel… anything. I’m not … right. I can cry for Brynjolf, but I can’t cry for all the lives I erased. I’m just… wrong.
“I can’t compete with your family. And I shouldn’t even try. So I want you to go in there and be happy. Listen, Bryn. There’s something else important, too. I want you to know this.”
He paused, considering, not wanting to say what had to be said but knowing that he needed to. A faint noise caught his attention and he scanned the shoreline, quickly, the movements of tiny figures in the distance telling him that time was truly running out. One of them wore the thick white cloak that gave him away as Haran, the bounty hunter who had been searching for him since he escaped the Thalmor. They were going to find me eventually. I left as obvious a trail for them as I could, the past few days. I could run, right now, but… He looked back at Brynjolf, and started speaking as quickly as he could.
“You were right. I remembered almost everything some time back. Some of it you know and some you don’t. I know who I am, and I just couldn’t bear to tell you. But I’ll give it to you now, my name, because you’re the only person in the world I trust with it. My real name is Vitus. Vitus Perdeti.”
Brynjolf’s eyes widened and his mouth opened just a bit, but he said nothing. Ah, so he knows the name. I’m not surprised.
“I’m from Bravil. I’ve been an assassin since I was barely old enough to grow a beard, and as far as I can tell I’ve been a skooma addict since I was younger than that. I joined the Dark Brotherhood there. The Listener – Alisanne – well, she took me in and made something of me when I was not much more than a boy. I watched when they burned her home. She made me run away…”
His voice caught for a moment, then he shook his head and continued. “That’s why Nocturnal wouldn’t take me, Bryn. I really have been sworn to Sithis my whole life, even if I don’t really care about Sithis at all. There’s nothing left for Nocturnal to take. Well, now you’re whole again. She has two of her three Nightingales again. Maybe it’ll work out, and Sayma can help you set Dynjyl free. I hope so. I like him, and there really have never been more than a handful of people I liked. I would like to think he’ll have peace. If you see him again, tell him I’m sorry. I tried. Maybe that ring will help protect you.”
He gave Brynjolf a lopsided smile.
“I was such a good assassin. It’s no wonder they recruited me here, quickly enough after I escaped the Thalmor, although nobody ever knew who I used to be, not even me. You see, Vitus – I – always wore a hood with a mask.” He chuckled. “That mask. Horrible thing. That mask was why I was so rattled when we destroyed the Keepers. No face. It’s in the wardrobe in Honeyside. Ask Roggi.”
He snickered, thinking about it. “Roggi stole it right out from under the Thalmor’s noses. He’s pretty resourceful, Roggi is. But I’m sure you already know that. Roggi was the one who convinced the face changer to tell us about Sayma, by the way, by using that mask so she couldn’t identify him afterward. Thing would have scared me, too.” He sighed. “Damn. I’m babbling.”
Brynjolf’s face reflected his confusion. He opened his mouth wider, as if to speak, but Andante interrupted him.
“I’m … a ghastly person. I know, I know, you’re going to try to say that you and I are both thieves and that makes us not good people by default, but I’m… well… Ask Roggi about me, or Delvin. They both know who I am. Who I was. They didn’t know it was me, at least I don’t think so, but they know who Vitus Perdeti is.”
When Brynjolf spoke, his voice was subdued. “I know who Vitus Perdeti is, lad. Everyone does. The best, and the nastiest. No limits, no regrets, no conscience. He disappeared a couple of years ago. You expect me to believe that you…”
Andante nodded.
“Why do you think I wouldn’t give you my name, loverboy? We were already being pursued – do you know how much danger you would have been in if you’d slipped and called me Vitus?”
He smiled sadly.
“Yes. I expect you to believe it. You’ve seen that I can be nasty, don’t look so surprised. You remember the argument we had after those two dragons in the lake?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Who do you think was talking to you right then, Brynjolf?” He felt his voice go cold, even as he said the words, and Brynjolf’s eyes showed that he heard the difference as well. “It was me, Vitus Perdeti. A man who doesn’t tolerate being argued with. You also watched me kill Harkon and then take Serana’s blood without even thinking about it. You know it’s me, if you’re honest with yourself.”
He watched as Brynjolf’s expression turned to horror once more.
“You’ve heard the real me before that, as well, but neither of us knew it at the time. The only thing neither of us knew was my name, not until I overheard Ondolemar talking about it when we were in Markarth.” He shook his head, still angry at himself over his own failure. “I very much understand why you’re always talking about being careful, you see, and not just because of what happened with Dynjyl. I got captured by the Thalmor while trying to complete a contract, because I made a stupid mistake. Gods-damned skooma. And I even cooked it myself. Talk about shooting an arrow through your own knee.”
He laughed. He took a quick look around to confirm that pursuit was still a fair distance away, and nodded.
“Ondolemar. He’s alive because I was an idiot. He was supposed to be dead over two years ago. I was beaten. Tortured. Do you know how I got away? I made a shiv out of a bone. I used it on the guard. From behind. Cut his throat, and did the same for every single one of the other guards. I just remembered that not long ago. It was a hell of a feat but I pulled it off, Brynjolf, because I’m Vitus gods-damned Perdeti and I’m the guy who could do it. I got away, and you met me after I’d gotten myself established again. Ondolemar was Vitus’ – my – last contract before I met these people here, and the only one I ever failed. Nobody knew who the target was except me, and whoever paid me for it, of course.”
He sighed. Well this isn’t a pleasant thing to share, but here it is.
“And you can probably confirm this, too, if you still don’t believe me. I told you a little bit about this before. A few days before Markarth I – Vitus – killed a woman in Bruma just because she wasn’t the Listener. Her name was Alessia Previa, if I remember correctly. She looked just like Alisanne but she wasn’t her. I just…”
He shrugged. I remember it, I remember feeling nothing. I still feel nothing. Except for one thing. I don’t want Brynjolf to hate me.
“I just killed her. Cut her throat. And a mark I was supposed to take out. And a couple of little kids who just got in the way. Bruma was supposed to have one assassination that week and they got four instead. And at least…” he stopped, counting on his fingers. “Four, I think, on the road between Falkreath and Markarth. He was on a roll. I was, I mean. ”
He chuckled, and then realized how horrible that chuckle must have sounded, and shrugged again.
“I sound insane, talking about myself as though I’m two different people. It feels odd to use the word ‘I’ when I’m talking about Vitus, because I’m Andante now. And yet, I’m Vitus.” He stopped, and looked Brynjolf in the eyes. When he spoke again, it was more slowly, more calmly.
“I’m so sorry, my love. I suppose it was Vitus who wanted that damned castle so much. Andante already had what he wanted most.”
He stepped forward, cupped Brynjolf’s stunned face with one hand and kissed him gently.
“I remembered that last bit, about the girl, when we went to Bruma, out in the marketplace. And then I remembered about the children just now when…” He had to stop and clear his throat. “Your son. Has red hair, like one of the little boys I…”
He shook his head, unable to finish the sentence.
“I guess before that I thought that well, maybe Vitus wasn’t as bad as I thought. Maybe there was some redeeming quality in me. But there isn’t. I’m desperately bad, Brynjolf. Not just a bad influence, the way we’ve joked about, but bad. It’s funny. I don’t think I ever understood that, before I was Andante, but I do now. There’s something wrong with me, Bryn. I’m just wrong, and I always have been, from the day I was born. I shouldn’t exist in the world. Maybe Andante is some little bit of me that wasn’t as horrible as the rest. Or maybe it’s just that because of having known you I can actually tell the difference now.”
Brynjolf was still standing like a rock, his mouth partially open, clearly struggling to take in everything that was happening.
Andante smiled.
This is the most important thing I’ll ever say.
“Bryn, I want you to remember this. This is really important. Vitus Perdeti,” he patted his chest, “the Man in the Mask and the Lord of Volkihar Castle, that man – me – only ever loved one person, in his entire life. Only one. That’s not an exaggeration. And that person was Brynjolf, of Riften.”
He looked up at Brynjolf’s shocked expression and tried to smile, but his mouth twisted to the side in a tortured position and he murmured, “You’re the only thing that has ever made me happy. You’re the only person who has ever made me feel worthwhile. You’re the only person I’ve ever loved. Send word to Serana. The castle is hers now. Run, my love. Don’t let them capture you.”
Brynjolf was staring at him, looking as though he was trying to formulate words and not being able to do so.
From down the shore came a cry. “Kill it! Kill the vampire!”
Brynjolf was clearly in shock but even so he knew enough to slink back into the shadows next to the Black Door. Andante could see where he was, but he knew the vigilantes would not.
The first of the men emerged from around the corner, brandishing weapons. It was a larger group than Andante had expected, the three having been joined by others with swords, and clubs, and even a shovel or two. From behind them stepped the familiar shape of Haran, the bounty hunter he’d first encountered in Markarth.
“Vitus Perdeti, you have committed crimes against the Empire through countless murders for hire, and against the Thalmor Embassy by attempting the assassination of one of its officers. You are wanted in almost every province of Tamriel. You are guilty of the crime of vampirism. You have declared war against the living of Nirn itself, by blotting out the sun. You are hereby condemned to death.”
“Sorry, my man,” he said, smiling, to the man who’d just pronounced his death. “You have the wrong person. My name is Andante. I undoubtedly have some small bounty or other here, in this hold, because I am rather fond of taking what isn’t mine. But crimes against Nirn? Surely you jest.”
“Oh there’s no mistake,” he said. “I’ve been tracking you for years, Vitus, and I’ve finally found you. I almost had you in Bruma, and you led me a good chase, but there’s no getting away this time. Your crimes were horrific before and you’ve only compounded them since you got away from the Thalmor. It’s time to pay for everything you’ve done.”
Vitus snarled. He dropped his illusion and bared his fangs. Some of the men in the back of the pack flinched, drew back in fear.
You’re all dead and you don’t even know it. To Sithis with every one of your souls.
“You don’t think being beaten nearly to death by the Thalmor and thrown away like yesterday’s table scrapings was a good enough payment?”
“Not nearly good enough.” This was from one of the other men, angry as a demon.
I don’t recognize him. Wonder if I killed some of his family, Andante mused.
He took a deep breath and began battling himself. The larger part of him wanted to attack these men as he had the soldiers at Fort Dunstan; wanted to rip them apart, bathe in their blood, revel in the glory of being one of the strongest of Tamriel’s vampires. Instead, he gritted his teeth and exerted every bit of his will; and as he did, he smiled.
The men started brandishing their weapons again. “Come quietly. Your end draws near.”
Andante cast a sideways glance at the sky. Then he grinned toward Brynjolf. “Well, it’s time to get pretty.”
Brynjolf yelped, breaking his cover. “No, lad! What are you doing?”
Andante hurled Auriel’s Bow away from himself, toward the Black Door, just as hard as he could. Then he shifted into his Vampire Lord form.
He aimed a spell just to the outside of where the bounty hunter was standing, and it exploded onto the ground with a gigantic percussion. The man staggered back. Andante floated down the shore, away from Brynjolf, away from the Door, drawing the posse as far away as he could. He cast another life drain spell, purposefully missing by just enough to stagger them but not kill them.
He looked back and saw Brynjolf struggling. There wasn’t going to be much he could do for some time while his body reverted to normal, but he was clearly yelling, or speaking…or something. Don’t think about it. Pay attention. The men ignored him and rushed forward toward Andante. Probably thought I was attacking him. They’d have no way to know that he’s the love of my life.
The first of the men reached Andante and started slashing at him with swords, peppering him with arrows. They did damage, and it hurt, but he refused to fight back. He laughed. Truly these men had no concept of how easily he could drop to the ground and tear them apart with one swipe of his claws. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t going to harm them, if he could help it. He just wanted them to follow him away from Brynjolf, away from the doors, away from the child, away from all the things that might possibly give Brynjolf a happy future.
I’m going to protect him, Dynny. I promised you I would do that. I may never do another decent thing in this lifetime but I will keep that promise.
The sun rose.
Andante cringed as its first rays touched him. He was hungry, desperately so, and thus, in his barely-covered vampire lord form, had no protection against the power striking him. “Gods, this is going to hurt,” he mumbled, as the men kept attacking him. Their weapons weren’t going to kill him.
But it didn’t take more than a few moments until Andante felt himself burning.
He laughed, long and hard.
They won’t get me, and they won’t get Brynjolf. I’m robbing them of their last chance to spew their hate at me. I’ve had my revenge. On all of them.
He looked back at Brynjolf, and smiled. He mouthed “I love you,” not knowing whether Brynjolf would be able to read his lips in this form. I must look lovely, he thought, feeling his skin cracking and vaporizing.
And then there was a shimmering pile of dust beneath the spot where he had been floating just a moment earlier.
