Dardeh stood at the end of the bed, smiling down at Roggi. He’d finally fallen asleep. Not content to stay in the tower at Helgen, he’d insisted that they make the long track west, back around Lake Ilinalta to their own home.
“Lydia needs to know what’s going on,” he’d told Dardeh. “And the kids need a hug from their papas.”
“Ok, Roggi. If that’s what you want to do, that’s what we’ll do,” he had said.
What worried him now, and kept him awake, was the fact that once they’d gotten underway it had seemed as though Roggi was perfectly normal. Dardeh knew better. Roggi had been barely responsive at the Thalmor prison. He’d been deeply disturbed by everything surrounding Valerius’ death, to say nothing of all the other events of recent days. There was no possibility that he could suddenly be completely free of all that distress, so very soon after leaving the scene of the massacre.
And yet, he’d seemed completely normal as they’d walked into their home and greeted the children. He and Lydia had teased each other while he made tea; and though he’d been serious telling her that they’d need to return to Helgen the following day and giving her a brief rundown of what had transpired there, he had given no sign of being overly disturbed by the situation. Dardeh knew that it had to be a façade of calm.
Roggi had reassured him, once they changed out of their armor. “I’m fine, Dar,” he’d said, gathering Dardeh up for a kiss before going to help Lydia make the tea. “Don’t worry about me. We did what had to be done and now we can move forward. I’m looking forward to a bit of a rest before we have to go back for the service tomorrow, aren’t you?”
And yes, Dardeh had been looking forward to the rest. He had enough cuts and bruises for a lifetime. He’d rather have dropped pieces of rubble on a foot than to have gotten some of those bruises the way they’d happened, but their lot had not been to physically rebuild Helgen, after all. There were plenty of normal people – people who hadn’t been warped almost beyond recognition by events over which they exercised only the tiniest bit of control – who were fully engaged in clearing the mess Alduin had left behind. He and Roggi had been needed elsewhere. And yet it seemed almost as though they were being punished, somehow, for something.
I don’t understand it. All I know is that somewhere, somehow, Roggi is going to break. And if I’m not careful, I’m going to, as well.
He watched Roggi sleeping, for a few moments, but was himself not sleepy. He turned to leave the room and was suddenly hit with an overwhelming moment of déjà vu.
It had been not that very many days previous. He and Roggi had been smiling at each other, the intimate smiles that invariably followed a private interlude. He’d been finishing the adjustments to his armor and opened the doors to find Rayya standing just outside them.
I probably looked like a sun-ripened tomato. She was there, outside our door. She probably heard everything. Roggi saw her and went from being relaxed and happy to looking like a thundercloud about to burst in just a breath or two. I didn’t know what to make of it except that I know what she wanted from me – and to think that she was listening?
And now she’s dead. And it was my doing. And Valerius is dead and I could almost blame that on myself, too; I led him to the prison, after all. I should have known better.
Dardeh closed the door to their bedroom and sat in the chair just outside it, trying to relax his body and mind and failing miserably. No matter how often he went over it he couldn’t quite make sense of everything that had happened.
She was my housecarl, and then she was some vampire’s thrall. If she hadn’t died by stepping into my fire breath then, we would have had to put her down at some other point. I know that. But…
But there was something special about her. And now she’s gone. And it’s my doing.
Lydia had been understandably shocked when they’d told her why she hadn’t seen Rayya for several days. She’d shouldered the unfortunate responsibility of telling Sofie and Lucia that Rayya wouldn’t be coming back. The children had taken it in stride, as they so often had needed to take in bad news in their short lives. Lydia had given both Dardeh and Roggi a warm hug and then helped make tea, asking no further questions and passing no obvious judgments.
We’ve all had to do things in the last couple of years that we’ve regretted. Lydia’s no exception. I’m so very fortunate that she came back to us. She understands it all.
He thought again about the vampires. Roggi had been warning him for a long time now that there was something going on, specific to him, with respect to the vampires, and he’d ignored the warnings. Now he couldn’t do that any longer. He didn’t know why he was being targeted, but he definitely was. He was going to have to deal with the problem sooner rather than later, or someone else close to him was going to die as a result.
I don’t know what to do about this. There’s only one person in the world who I can ask for guidance on this matter, and I can’t very well leave Roggi for a trip to Riften right at the moment, can I.
And then there’s Sayma. I don’t understand how she can absorb a dragon soul if she can’t use Dovahzul. There’s something important about that, as well, and I don’t believe there’s anyone alive who can help us with that. Unless…
No. I’m not making another trip up that mountain unless it’s absolutely necessary.
After a long while, Dardeh’s mind quieted enough that he was able to stand, and stretch, and go back in to the bedroom to get a bit of rest. And the next day, as they prepared to make the trip back to Helgen, he knelt before the shrine of Talos they kept there in their private quarters, and asked forgiveness for whatever he might have done to cause so much anguish in the world, and for guidance to deal with the days ahead.
Roggi was sitting near the fireplace when he finally reached the ground floor. Dardeh frowned; for while Roggi had been cheerful and his manner light when they first rose for the day, he was once more looking like a man with a cloud over his head, staring at a spot on the floor without seeming to focus on it.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
Roggi didn’t look up for a moment.
“Yeah. Sure.”
“Roggi? You OK? We need to get back up there before nightfall.”
It was as though Roggi threw some sort of lever in his mind. He looked up at Dardeh and grinned, the mischievous smile Dardeh loved to see.
“Let’s get going, then. Wouldn’t want to keep them waiting.” He stood and made his way to the door, stopping halfway there to give Lydia a quick hug as she came up from the bedroom that was now exclusively hers once more.
Dardeh wasn’t fooled, though. The smile had been there; but the eyes had still been dark.
I’m travelling to Helgen with the Inquisitor. I hope everything will be alright.
___
The light was fading by the time they made it to Helgen; and yet the workers, determined to squeeze every bit of use they could out of a day, were still wrestling lumber into position and hammering nails into it. An armorer’s workbench had been pressed into service for straightening bent nails and salvaging hinges and iron fittings that could safely be reused. There were ladders up against the various keep towers and piles of wood staged at appropriate points. Dardeh couldn’t help but smile.
“Looks like your victories at the Fight Cave went to good use, Roggi,” he said.
Roggi looked pleased with himself. “I’m glad to have been of some use,” he said with a wide grin that looked oddly out of place amidst the somber faces elsewhere on the keep’s grounds. “I’d hate to think that all that time hacking at dragons and fighting Ulfric’s war went to waste. These sword arms have to be good for something, after all.”
Dardeh nodded. “Of course they were, Roggi.” He smiled. “If nothing else, those arms have kept me in one piece all this time, and that’s no small feat. I don’t know what the bards will say about all this in years to come, but if they don’t include your name in the songs they’ll have been missing half the story.”
Roggi chuckled but had nothing else to say, in part because they had moved near the central tower. And there, raised up on a carefully-prepared pile of wood, lay the body of Valerius Tiberius Artoria.
“Oh,” Roggi murmured, moving to stand at the foot of what was clearly meant to be Valerius’ funeral pyre. Dardeh watched him carefully to be certain that he was going to be all right; but he simply stood there, gazing at the unlit pyre and at Valerius.
Slowly, as the light failed, the yard filled with the Stormcloak soldiers they’d recruited as guards, and the workers who’d decided to stay behind once it was too dark to work, and with the remaining members of the former Keepers of Hattu. Dardeh waited until it appeared that everyone was there, and then approached Marcus Jannus, who was standing next to a very somber-looking Korst.
“I think everyone’s ready,” he said.
Marcus nodded. “Yes. Thank you for coming. Please join the others. I’d like to say a few words.”
Dardeh moved to the back of the group to observe. Marcus stood silent for a moment facing the gathering and then looked up at them, scanning their faces, and raised his voice.
“I know this must be as difficult for each of you as it is for me,” he began. “Moreso, even. You were his trusted friends, and his inner circle. Of our friend, I can assure each of you this: he told me that he was truly happy again, for the first time in many, many years.”
He stopped and looked from side to side again, and so did Dardeh; it was an impressive group assembled for the purposes of saying goodbye, and in the service of the greater good. He found his eyes beginning to water, and mentally scolded himself. Now is not the time.
“I don’t presume to have words that might assuage the grief that you must feel. You will each have to find your own solace in whatever manner suits each of you best. But if this were a proper military funeral, we would most likely have a musician playing a funeral song. Many of these old songs came from ancient battlefields, and were played at the end of a long day of fighting. They were… lullabies, meant to signify that all was well.”
He took a few steps forward, joining the group, and then turned to face the pyre.
“Oh Valerius,” he said, his voice shaking, “old friend. You will not soon be forgotten. You are safe now. You may finally be at peace, and rest.”
Two soldiers bearing torches stepped forward and touched them to the tinder at the base of the pyre. As the flames began to spread, Korst spoke.
“For our friend…”
“We weep,” answered the rest of the group in unison. A chill ran up Dardeh’s spine.
“For his memory,” Balfring said.
“We rejoice.”
“For this warrior,” one of the other Keepers of Hattu continued.
“We salute.”
Dardeh’s tendency toward tears betrayed him once again, as the emotions in the soldiers’ voices tore a hole in his heart. He felt the dampness trickling down his face.
“For ourselves,” Marcus said.
“We say goodbye.”
Dardeh looked toward the pyre and caught his breath. Roggi had approached, and stood mere inches from the flames, silently gazing at Valerius. As the flames licked higher and higher Dardeh watched him in awe. Roggi never moved, never looked away, showed no sign of emotion; he merely paid his respects in silence.
As the mourners began filtering out of the area, one of the soldiers just behind Dardeh spoke up.
“It’s good that the war is finally over. But I wonder what’s going to happen with the Thalmor.”
Dardeh turned to see who it was, but couldn’t tell in the dark who had spoken.
That is the question, isn’t it. What’s going to happen next? What happens with the Thalmor depends on what happens here, in many ways. Who becomes High King of Skyrim. Who becomes our next Emperor. And whether or not we can rebuild before the inevitable arrives.
He looked back at the pyre to find Roggi looking at him. The flames were beginning to lick at the cloth on which Valerius’ body lay. Dardeh approached and gave Roggi a small smile.
“Are you ok, love?”
Roggi hesitated for a moment. He shrugged his shoulders.
“Not really. But I will be. Give me just another moment.”
Dardeh nodded. “I need to go check in with Marcus. We need to make sure he knows about Falco and find out whether he needs us for anything more. Come with me?”
“I’ll follow you in a second.”
“Alright.” Dardeh started toward the keep and then paused, turning back to see Roggi still standing silent vigil beside the pyre, as its flames began to consume Valerius’ body. It occurred to him then that no matter how close they were, no matter how desperately he loved the man standing next to the pyre, he could never truly know what went on inside him.
Several others of the Stormcloak guards were entering the keep as he reached the door, and they all ended up gathering in the main entrance at the same time. Marcus was there, moving from one person to the next, speaking quietly; and again Dardeh was struck by what an exemplary job Marcus was doing under almost intolerable conditions. He watched quietly from the sidelines until Marcus was free and looked up at him.
“Marcus, have you been filled in on what happened with Falco?”
Marcus nodded. “Yes. Yes I have. Please come with me. Korst is meeting us downstairs. Let’s get this over with as quickly as we can.”
They were at the top of the stairs when Dardeh heard the door open behind him. Roggi had let himself in quietly. Dardeh smiled at him and motioned toward the stairs, and Roggi followed.
Falco was kneeling, hands bound behind his back, in what had once been a torture chamber. Dardeh’s memory once again flew back to the moment when he and Ralof had come through this very space. For some reason he particularly remembered the small table that was still tucked up against one of the support pillars. Back then it had held two of the lockpicks that had allowed him to reach a few gold pieces in the cells – gold pieces that had made such a difference to restarting his life after Alduin’s attack; maybe that’s why he would never forget the smell of the place, or exactly how the lockpicks had lain on the table, clean and ready in spite of the spattered blood that had covered the rest of the room. Now the space was being used as a barracks. Still, though, there were cells just down the hall, and Falco had been kept in one of those during the past two days.
“Well, Falco,” Marcus said calmly. “You succeeded in getting Valerius killed. I hope you’re happy.”
“Marcus, I’m so sorry!” Falco cried. “They had my sister. They told me they would kill her! And her children! They’re all the family I have left. Please. Marcus.” He trailed off, perhaps realizing that nothing he could say would change the facts of the matter.
“Falco, did you really think you could negotiate with those maggots? Did you really think you could trust them? You are a fool.” Marcus sighed heavily. “Gods, what am I going to do with you?”
Korst, who had been standing quietly off to one side, raised his voice.
“He is a traitor, and should die a traitor’s death!”
“You’re probably right, Korst… I… don’t know.” Marcus clearly wanted nothing to do with making a decision of this magnitude. He turned to Dardeh.
“What do you think about all this? I’m concerned that Valerius’ death may cloud my judgment. I don’t want to make the wrong decision.”
Dardeh glanced at Roggi, who had entered the room to stand just behind Marcus. What do you think, Roggi? Tell me what to do.
Roggi shook his head and started speaking in a voice that spoke of barely-controlled rage.
“The Thalmor would have killed his family. Probably have killed them. Slowly.”
Falco moaned.
“Roggi.”
“I’m just telling you what’s likely to have happened, Dar. You’ve seen my tools. You know what kinds of things we can do with them. Where do you think we learned all those techniques?” He took a few steps away from them, into the shadows, and then turned to face Falco again. “But to betray your leader. Your friend. When he was trying to start a new life for all of you.” His voice rose. “Yes, they took your sister. They took Valerius’ wife. And they took mine, too!” He looked back at Dardeh and shook his head.
“Don’t ask me what ought to be done with him, Dardeh. I can’t help you with this one. It’s… beyond me.” He stepped back into the shadows.
Dardeh looked back and forth between Falco and Roggi, his heart being torn nearly in half. Neither of these men had deserved to suffer at the hands of the Thalmor, even as indirectly as they had. Valerius hadn’t, either; nor had he deserved to die. And yet Dardeh couldn’t forget – would never forget – the sound of Valerius’ voice at the very end. “Oh my,” he’d said, an expression of awe and perhaps even joy. He’d wanted nothing more than to be with his family again.
Maybe he’s in Sovngarde. Or maybe they’re all wherever Redguard warriors go when they die, since he was a Keeper of Hattu. You’d think I might know such a thing, and yet I don’t. But I do know that he was at peace when he left us.
Suddenly he saw the spirit of Jine af-Avik, smiling at him and at Sayma as they arranged his bones in the coffin in Hammerfell. He’d wanted to be at peace, as well. What was it that Jine had kept saying?
“You must end it.” That’s what he told us. That’s what he told both of us.
He smiled to himself, and then met Marcus’ gaze.
“He deserves punishment, there’s no doubt about it. But there’s been enough death today. Don’t kill him. Banish him.”
Marcus looked almost relieved. “Yes. Perhaps you’re right.” He raised his voice and waved at Korst. “Korst, release him. Falco, you will not die this day. Not by my hand. But if I ever see you again, I’ll kill you myself.”
“Likewise,” Roggi rumbled from the shadows.
“Now go to whatever fate the gods may have in store for you.”
“Oh gods,” Falco said, rising to his feet as Korst released his bonds. “Thank you, Marcus. But… what have I done? I’ll never be able to live with myself for this. Oh gods, what have I done? Valerius is dead because of me. Oh gods, no!” He broke down as the enormity of what had happened truly registered with him.
“Falco,” Dardeh said quietly. “All of us who have been involved in this war against the Aldmeri Dominion have blood on our hands in one way or another. Yes, you betrayed Valerius. But what if I had refused to take him to the prison? Am I not equally responsible for his death?”
“Dar, no,” Roggi snarled.
“Yes, Roggi. And what if Valerius had refused to go? No, there’s guilt enough to go around. It’s just that…” he sighed. “Falco, you have the largest portion of it to bear. It’s a heavy load to carry. Just never forget.” Falco caught a sob in his throat and turned away. Dardeh didn’t bother watching where he went; he simply hoped the guards would take him to the border of Cyrodiil and push him through the gates to the other side.
Viggun, who had been with them on their trip through Staadomaar, stopped to speak to him. “Is it true that those Thalmor bastards are selling slaves from Skyrim? They should die a thousand deaths.”
Dardeh was about to answer him, but stopped as he saw Roggi approaching. Instead, he held a finger up to his mouth. Viggun glanced at Roggi and then back at Dardeh, nodding that he understood. He walked away, only to be replaced by Alof.
“Hail Dragonborn. The Savior of Skyrim!” he said.
“Yeah, well, you know as well as I do that I bleed just like everyone else, Alof. But thanks.”
Alof saluted and left to help shepherd Falco out of Skyrim. Marcus then approached.
“He’s right, though. This whole thing with Falco has been a mess. And we’ve paid with it by our dearest blood. But were it not for you we’d probably all be dead now. We owe you our lives. Seems all I do lately is keep thanking you for your help.”
“Killing him wouldn’t have changed anything. It was the right thing to do.”
“I believe now that we can finally put all these things behind us and live in peace.”
“I hope so,” Dardeh said. But behind Marcus, Roggi was pacing back and forth, in and out of what once had been the torturer’s office. It’s time to get him out of here before he explodes. “Any new updates on the town?”
“Yes! Well as you can see, the construction continues to move along nicely, now that we have lumber. Patsy will run the inn for now; and Cienna and Balfring have both decided that they wish to retire from being soldiers and open a blacksmithing shop, and who am I to stand in their way? They should be open for business soon if you need anything.”
“Aw darn it,” Dardeh laughed. “I’d been about ready to apply for the job myself.”
Marcus chuckled. “There’s also one of the workers, an Argonian woman, who wants to open an alchemy shop once the construction is finished. As far as I’m concerned, she’s earned it; and any town worth its weight needs an alchemy shop.”
“What about Korst and Altan?”
“Korst?” Marcus laughed. “He’ll never retire. He’ll die an old soldier with his boots still on. That’s just what he does. But this is a good thing.”
“You won’t need to look far for a captain of the guard, then.”
“Right. Altan will stay on and help Korst while he continues his studies of the old Redguard ways of the sword-singers. It’s such a shame that art has been lost to the sands of time and history. Maybe he can learn enough to revive the old ways some day. When people lose connection with their heritage, they lose a part of themselves, you know.”
Dardeh closed his eyes for a moment at that, as it felt like one of his own very sharp scimitars had stabbed into his heart. Yes, I know. Again, he saw Jine, who ran through the desert as one born to it; who sliced through his enemies like a blacksmith sliced through molten steel. He saw his own father, twisted by hate and tied to a world he had long since left, but still holding to his own version of his Redguard heritage.
Yes. I lost a part of myself, for a very long time. Maybe I was never meant to have it. Maybe the Dragonborn blood was too strong for me to have held it as either a pure Redguard or a pure Nord. Maybe I’ll never know.
He opened his eyes again and smiled. “What about you, Marcus?”
“Who, me?”
“You are Marcus, yes?”
He laughed. “Well, I’ve decided to reach out to a few wholesalers I know and start up the old shop again, right here in Helgen! So keep your eyes peeled for the store to open. I’m sure we’ll find something you can use. A couple of the construction workers have said they’ll stay on and work around town – you know, general maintenance and so forth. We’ll sure need them! A couple others have said they may even join the town guard.”
“Well it sounds like things are going well. But Helgen will need a leader.” He grinned at Marcus.
“No, my leading days are over. I’m ready to settle down and lead a quiet life. When we’re ready, we’ll most likely set up a small town council.”
“Like Riverwood, you mean? They seem to more or less govern themselves unless the Jarl needs to step in during a crisis.”
“Exactly. We’ll likely take turns acting as a sort of executive officer. But none of this would ever have been possible without you.”
None of it would have been necessary without me. Alduin came to Helgen looking for me.
“This new town owes its very existence to you. To both of you,” he added, turning to nod at Roggi.
“And Valerius,” Roggi said softly.
“Yes. Valerius too. I intend to do something to commemorate those who lost their lives here. Don’t be a stranger, my friends. Make sure to visit us when the shops are up and running; I’m sure they’ll give you their best prices. I’m proud, very proud to have known you both, and I cherish the privilege of calling you my friends.”
“Thanks, Marcus,” Dardeh said. “We’re not that far away. Just at the other end of the lake. If you’re passing by on your way to Markarth or Solitude, stop and see us.”
He waved to Roggi, who was still pacing back and forth in front of the cage. Time to get him out of here.
He led them out of the keep and into the private tower. “I thought we could stay here tonight, is that ok?”
“Yeah. Good idea,” Roggi said, dumping himself heavily into a branch-construction armchair next to the fire. He ran a hand over his face and sighed. “I’m …”
“You’re what?” Dardeh asked, lowering himself to the floor beside Roggi. “You looked like a caged animal in there, Roggi. What’s going on?”
“Nothing.”
“Don’t give me that. I may not be a mastermind at reading other people like you and Brynjolf, but I know you well enough to know when something’s bothering you. Spill.”
“It’s nothing, Dardeh.”
Oh, so he uses my full name? He really is upset, isn’t he?
“Right. The last time I saw you this upset was the night after Ulfric broke your rib.”
To his utter amazement, Roggi made a sound that was half an angry growl and half a sob.
“I can’t be distressed because Valerius died at the hands of the damned Thalmor?”
“Well of course you can. We all are. But I saw you there at his pyre, Roggi. It’s more than that. What’s going on?”
Roggi started speaking, softly.
“It’s Ulfric, Dar. It’s always Ulfric. You know it’s always him. Always, always Ulfric gods-damned Stormcloak.”
Dardeh felt a little hurt, a little betrayed; but Ulfric was after all wound up in his experience of Helgen, too. Moreso than Roggi’s even, when he thought about it, remembering how hurt he’d been at Ulfric’s all-too-obvious dismissal of him as just another Redguard, that day in the cart. He pushed the hurt down as far as he could. There was more to this than Roggi was saying, and he didn’t know what.
“Roggi. You and Ulfric have a history that will always be a part of both your lives. You can’t change that. But I don’t understand what that has to do with us rebuilding Helgen. I was here with Ulfric when Alduin destroyed it. You weren’t here; you were in Kynesgrove. What… else?”
“It’s all been jumbled up in my head for so long, Dar. I don’t even know how to explain it.”
“Well, try. You need to get rid of this, whatever it is.”
He leaned forward in his chair, staring at the floor in the way he had been doing since they’d killed Aerandil. He opened and shut his mouth a couple of times as if he was going to begin talking, and Dardeh was once again reminded of that night in Windhelm when Roggi had looked at him, almost pleading, and asked “can I tell you this? Really?”
“The Thalmor killed Valerius’ family. They raped his wife, Dar. And his daughter.”
“Yeah, that was hard to hear.”
“They killed Briinda, too. They raped her and then they killed her.” He furrowed his brow as though he didn’t quite know how to connect the two in his own mind, much less describe what he was thinking to anyone else. “And it was my fault.”
Dardeh gasped. “How? How in the name of Talos was that your fault?”
“It was Ulfric, Dar. All the things we did together, all the things I did for him. All the killing, and the…” His right hand clenched and drew a vertical line in front of him, as if he was drawing a knife. “I had to get away. I had to get away from him, and from me, and from all the lies, and the blood, and the screaming.”
And then something happened that Dardeh had never seen, not a single time in the entirety of his experience with Roggi Knot-Beard.
Roggi started to cry.
“I wanted it to be more than it was, Dar. He wanted it to be more than it was. Both of us… we wanted… something that just wasn’t ever going to happen. And all the time I was married to Briinda. This awful thing. I hated myself.”
Dardeh sighed. He’d feared hearing this thing. I always knew it, from that first night in Windhelm. He’s tried to keep it from me, all this time, and I knew it anyway.
“You were in love with Ulfric, weren’t you?”
Roggi put his head in his hands. “Yes. I was. It’s so hard to say that, Dar. I didn’t want to be. But I wanted it at the same time. I had to get away from him. I had to leave. I couldn’t stay there a moment longer. It was killing me. Briinda didn’t deserve it and I thought if we could just get away…” He wiped a hand across his face and continued. “It was killing me, and it killed her. If we hadn’t been in such a hurry… if I’d asked Ulfric for men to come with us. Or something. Anything. But she died. They all died. All except me, the one who deserved it most. And then I hated Ulfric for it, all these years.”
“Well, he did start it, Roggi.”
“He did. And he knows it. And he tried to use it against me. But he created the Inquisitor, Dar. He knows that, too. And he knows I can’t… control it.” His hands clenched and unclenched again.
“Sure you can. I’ve only seen you lose your grip a couple of times.”
“A couple of times is too many, Dar. I’m a weapon. He made me into a weapon.”
“Well so am I, when you think about it.” Dardeh ran a hand through his hair.
“You didn’t see me in the Fight Cave. Nobody stood a chance. And the one man. I made him scream… And Dar, you didn’t see what I did to the Dunmer in Ulfric’s dungeon. I got the information but I…” He stopped, his brow furrowed, his fists clenched, the muscles in his jaws bulging as he forced the words out through his teeth.
“But Roggi, what does all of this – difficult as it is – have to do with … this?” He gestured to the room around them.
“Valerius. He couldn’t let go of it, Dar. Years and years, and he couldn’t let go of the hatred. You heard Marcus tell us the story. You listened to Val talk about the Thalmor. He hated them so much that he…” Roggi’s voice caught in his throat for a moment. “He couldn’t move forward. He couldn’t be happy, ever again. All he could do was hate. And that’s why he’s dead.”
He raised his face to look at Dardeh. It was streaked, his tears having worked down through the soot from the funeral pyre he’d tended at close range. “I watched Valerius burning, and I knew. I have to stop, Dar. I have to stop blaming everything on the bandits, and the Thalmor. And most of all I have to stop blaming everything on Ulfric. It’s the only way I can keep living. You probably hate me now. But it couldn’t be as much as I hate myself.”
Dardeh scooted closer to Roggi, and got up on his knees so that he could take Roggi’s face in his hands.
“No, Roggi,” he said softly. “I could never hate you. You’re the reason the gods put me here in this world. I love you. And I love Briinda because she loved you. And I … tolerate… Ulfric. Because he loved you.” He pulled Roggi closer. “All of us. Sayma and Brynjolf. And Lydia. And your friends in Kynesgrove. We have loved you for a reason, Roggi. It is because you are a very, very good man. Let go of it. Let go of the hate. We go forward from here.”
Roggi buried his head against Dardeh’s shoulder and sobbed. He wept, and wept, as if all of the tears he hadn’t shed for the past decade were trying to escape him all at once. Dardeh just held him. And after a long time had passed, he led Roggi up the stairs to the bedroom of the private tower, and undressed him, and slipped into the bed beside him.
And he held him close, with an ache in his heart that he knew would never quite go away again.
