Chapter 1 - Prologue

"GUARDS! GUARDS!" the cry came out late on a blustery, stormy night. Men came running, some not even bothering to put their armor on as they were awoken by the woman's mournful scream that had echoed through the castle. Feet stampeding on wooden floors echoed as many raced towards the wailing cries of anguish.

Men barged in the room to see the Jarl's wife standing before an empty cradle. She turned tear streaked face towards the door, clutching small furred blanket to her chest as she stared at them helplessly. Silence descended when they noticed the blanket of a baby clutched desperately in her hands.

The Jarl parted his guards, his clothing skewed, his cheeks flushed, his blond hair messed. A young maid hiding behind him and behind the maid two blond haired, blue eyed, children peaked into the room.

"Someone stole my son!" the distraught woman wailed, before collapsing to her knees with a wracking sob.

The guards glanced around the room quickly, and moved towards the window to find it broken with a hook embedded in the sill and a rope hanging from that hook. They scanned the land below seeing no movement. Though with the torrents of rain falling it made it impossible to see that far.

The captain of the guard went to the cradle, placing his hand on the furs that the babe laid on. The furs were cold to the touch, telling him that child had been missing for a bit. He glanced at the Jarl, "My Jarl, the furs are cold to the touch, the babe was taken earlier this night. I'll have guards sent out scouring your lands," he stated and motioned to his men.

"I want the thief caught and brought here alive, if not alive I want his head," The Jarl roared and moved to his wife. He knelt down, taking the distraught woman in his arms and glared at the maid as she scowled at them.

Weeks passed by and no one in the lands had seen the child. Other holds had guards spread out searching, and yet nothing was found. Not four days after their son was taken the maid the Jarl had bedded many times disappeared during the dead of night. No one knew anything or saw anything.

The wife lay in the bed the Jarl had moved to their son's room. Losing her son too much for her to bear. She would not speak a word, always watching out the window, and waiting. Not once did she touch the food that was brought to her. Not once did she acknowledge when someone entered the room where her son had once slept. His furred blanket always clutched in her hands.

Three months after the son went missing they held a funeral for the mother. She died quietly one morning while watching out the window, painfully whispering the first word since her son was taken. Mikael.

15 years later.

The eldest son sat by his father as he died. He had taken his father place a year ago, when the elder wasn't able to run his lands anymore. He bit back the tears as he saw his father struggled to move. They all knew this was his last day, and if not day then this night he would be gone.

He watched as his father pointed at something. The new Jarl knew this thing well, a safe built into the wall, it held the old Jarl's most important documents and contracts. The new Jarl moved to the safe and opened it softly. He grabbed the papers and found an ornate wooden box in the back. He decided to grab that too, not sure what his father wanted to show him.

He moved back to his father, placing the documents and wooden box on the bed. He watched as his father slowly lift his hand as if he could barely move it and placed it on the wooden box. "It needs a key," the new Jarl whispered, his throat closing tightly as he witnessed his father struggle just to move.

He almost looked away when his father moved his hand to the necklace around his neck. Not wanting to see his father struggle so, the son moved quickly taking off all of his father jewelry. His eyes widened when he saw that one of the necklaces had two keys on it. He knew what one of those keys were for, but the other one he never saw before. He didn't need to told what it was for, he could figure it out easily enough.

He used the key unlocking the box. His eyes widened when he saw many notes, a lock of blond hair, still soft as a baby. The new Jarl didn't need to be told who that lock of hair belong too. He had been ten years old when his baby brother had been taken. After that night nothing had been the same. What once was a happy, loving family became something distant.

The brother that lived here with him, they were close. Eventually him and his father became close, but it took many years. Too many years, but he never said a word about that.

He picked up one note and scowled.

Send ten thousand septims to a man wearing a black cape. You'll find him at the border, once he has the money you'll get your son.

The new jarl scanned the second letter.

We received your money, but its not enough. Not after losing three of my men by your guards. Send another ten thousand, with no guards to the same location and you may get your son back.

He read the third note.

Sending the Companions? Don't want your son to badly I see. Then I shall keep him for myself and you'll never see him again. We'll raise him with your other son that my daughter will be birthing soon.

He could almost feel the malicious grin in the second letter. He blinked his eyes and stayed the tears. So much he didn't know, so much that went untold to him. He had another brother out there, and he was betting it was the maid that he had caught his father with on the night his mother had screamed so loud it had woke all.

He rifled through the pages, found no more notes but statements of where money had gone searching for his little brother. Below that was the note from the Companion, Kodlak had been the one that went out searching for the child. He had killed five, but there had been no sign of his brother. He wasn't surprised, some days he wondered if his brother was still alive. It also seemed the thieves had claimed over twenty thousand from his father. Each time he sent someone he lost money other than when Kodlak went .

"What do you want me to do with this?" the new Jarl asked.

"Wait for him, he will come home," the old Jarl whispered hoarsely, followed by wracking coughs. The new Jarl held his father hand as he hacked and coughed. He watched as the older man collapsed back onto the bed. He sighed in relief that he was still breathing, he had thought that was it.

He glanced at the door as it opened. His brother entered wearing fur horned armor. His brother was twice as large as him, a warrior by all accounts. That was all he thought about as any warrior, battles, glory, and honor. He thought the same but he was a diplomat. The only battles he had seen was almost a year ago just before he returned from his travels.

He watched his brother move to the other side of the bed. He glanced at the missives lying around and glared. He didn't say a word, but he knew there were secrets and he didn't know them.

They grasped their father's hand, the weakened hands laid limply in theirs. They sat there for minutes, hours, days, time didn't matter to them. They stayed until he took his final breath.

The old Jarl was sent of to Sovngarde with all the honors of a strong nord leader.