The Point of Faith

Part I

Felwinter woke bleary-eyed and exhausted, as if he had never slept at all. The air in the manor was still cool. The sun wasn't yet up. He lifted himself into a sitting position, letting the comforter slide down to his waist. He tested his arm, his right arm, flexed it and felt only slight discomfort.

He pushed himself fully off the bed, planting his feet down and standing. He started to look for his clothes. He could have just used the Daedric markings on his arm to summon them to his frame but manually getting dressed had always been a good way for him to wake up. Through the walls, he could hear the others moving, doing the same as him. He might soundproof these walls, if he finds the time. Even then, it was unlikely. He had no intention of spending much time here and certainly not with his family.

A torch in the wall came alight with little more than a thought. With his limbs going through the motions of dressing him, his mind was free to wander. It didn't go far. There was plenty right here on Solstheim for him to dwell endlessly on, which he would if he were not careful. With the full weight of the situation having settled, Felwinter wondered if it was childish naivete that made him think this would be over and done with so quickly, as he had promised his family. Alduin was not a quick affair. Neither was Harkon. He should have known better. But maybe it was only hindsight. Indeed, the truth was so sheer in size, it almost felt as if he should have known about it from the beginning.

But how could he have? Cultish assassins threatening his life was one thing but to find that their beliefs had merit? The First Dragonborn has been trapped in Apocrypha for four eras, under the guardianship and patronage of a Daedric Prince, giving him access to all the knowledge and power that would entail. Now he wants out, to style himself as a conqueror and he needed the minds of Solstheim's people to do it. Even saying it now, it sounded ridiculous.

But it was no more ridiculous than something like a Dragon arriving in the present from the past. And he had looked upon that Dragonborn. Heard his plans, faced his legions. In the face of such evidence, what could he do besides believe?

Felwinter growled quietly. Politically, Skyrim was an unstable mess. Despite his assistance in ensuring it would remain part of the Empire, that Empire had no apparent intention to help stabilize it; reconnect with its leaders and its divided people, beyond their expected backing of Elisif's ascension. No, it seemed they wished to leave that job to General Tullius, a man who has lived in Skyrim for over five years now and still needed his Nord second to remind him of what Sovngarde was. Embarrassing. The amount of work it would take to drag these people together; daunting felt like an understatement.

The sound of a door opening broke his thoughts. He looked down at himself, deemed himself somewhat presentable and then pulled his pack onto his shoulder. He put the torch out the same way he lit it, heard it hiss as he moved past. Felwinter pulled open his door and found Gregor, standing before the dead fireplace, his eyes trained on the blackened wood, his things at his feet. He looked up when the sound of Felwinter's door reached him and murmured his good mornings.

Felwinter returned them. At the same time, Jordis' door opened and she came trudging through, just as prepared. Both of them looked as if they wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep and Felwinter agreed, even though he was unsure he would be able to. Nothing more needed to be said about what has happened, not here or now. Felwinter simply nodded his head back towards his room and turned, hearing them follow.

He led them to the portal, set into the far left wall of the master bedroom. Inactive, it had the appearance of nothing more than what it was, a wall. Bringing up his arm and pressing it against the flat solid surface, Felwinter concentrated. He began to feel the skin of his palm tingle. The silent hum in the air grows in strength as Felwinter allows his magic to flow through the rune etched into his hand, like a key into a lock.

The doorway opened. Light swirled slowly around the section of the wall his hand was against, like moonlight off a placid lake. Felwinter pushed his hand forward just slightly and, as if through water, it slid through.

"Alright," he murmured, then shrugged, "Thanes first." He stepped the rest of the way inside. It had been so long since he had set these up for the very first time. The room in between the portals that served as a halfway point had been removed, making the portals more firmly connected than they previously had been. Going from Whiterun to Markarth or Solitude to Riften truly was as simple as stepping through a threshold.

It was Proudspire that materialized around him when his feet touched solid ground and the white light faded from his vision. It was just as they had left it, only a month unused. He stepped out of the portal's path just in time for Jordis to pass through, blinking to clear her own vision. When she took in the sight, she didn't bother to hide the sag in her shoulders when she realized where she was, nor the relief that emanated from her. But still, she turned, looked at him and asked, "Do you have something planned, Thane? For...everything?"

Gregor stepped through behind them. Felwinter sighed, his own shoulders beginning to droop. "Not really, no," he admitted, "And to be entirely honest, I don't see myself coming up with anything concrete anytime soon." He shook his head irritably. "Use this time to rest. You'll hear from me. You'll see me even. I expect to be in and out of Solitude from time to time."

Jordis takes another look around the basement. Then, she nods. "I understand."

Felwinter nodded back. "The portal is open to you. To both of you," he said, turning to Gregor. "If you want to come to Whiterun to see me or Lydia or go to Markarth to see Argis, you're welcome to."

"I remember. Thank you, my Thane," Jordis said.

"I'll leave you then. Try to get some rest."

"You as well, Fel."

At that, he gave a small smile. With one last wave, Felwinter reentered the portal. With one last nod, Gregor followed and the swirling light faded away. It was closed. Jordis turned and started for the stairs. She got to the base and slowly climbed until she reached the first floor. There, she let her bag fall from her shoulders. She leaned against the cold stone, taking in deep lungfuls of Proudspire's smell. The smell of home, of safety.

She left her shield, her sword and her armor with her bag against the wall at the top of the stairs. From there, she climbed the rest of the way, empty-handed, fully intent on returning to sleep.

Felwinter whistled as he took a look around his new basement. "All in a month," he murmured, "Your townspeople work fast, Gregor. Come on, I wanna see upstairs."

The builders from Dawnstar had set the bare bones of Heljarchen. In the month of their absence, the house had gone from little more than an oversized shack to a hall worthy of the name. Judging by the main floor when they reached it, it looked as if they would start furnishing in a few weeks' time. Felwinter had been offered the land along with Gregor's services, when Jarl Brina came to the throne. It was meant to be a way for him and his family to get away from the cities from time to time. Force people to forget he existed, even if just for a short while.

Felwinter didn't take long when looking around. Whatever he saw, he seemed to approve, leaving Gregor with no instructions to pass onto the builders the next time they came by. "Gregor, your hand?" He asked as he came back down the stairs.

Gregor placed his bag down and obediently held it out. Felwinter took it and with one of his fingers, slowly began to trace something into the palm. Magic, Gregor could feel it. Narrow lines of dim, blue light followed the trail of his finger. It was as if he were writing. Felwinter finished with a circle drawn around the rune. As he pulled back, Gregor continued staring at it. It pulsed once, twice and then slowly faded into nothing.

"That's the rune that will allow you to access the portals," Felwinter explained. Gregor's eyes came up to him. "Simply press your hand to the wall and concentrate. Not too difficult."

"Yes, Thane. I can figure it out on my own." Gregor looked back down at his now empty hand. Opened and closed it.

"Like I told Jordis, you can use it as you want," Felwinter continued, "Go to Solitude to see her, Markarth to see Argis. Or even come to Whiterun, if you ever want to speak to me. Don't feel as if you're stuck here on your own, with only the floorboards for company."

Felwinter was smiling. Gregor returned a small one but it never truly reached his eyes. Felwinter grew somber. "But try not to leave for a while. You've managed all this much better than I would have expected, even given the circumstances. Circumstances which I apologize for. I never expected things to get so out of hand."

"Not your fault, Thane," Gregor replied simply. Despite everything, he meant it. How could anyone have known?

Felwinter exhaled and then nodded. "I promised you that sword and you'll get it. Ebony, maybe. You've more than earned it." Felwinter clapped him on the shoulder and Gregor smiled again, more genuine this time. With one last nod, Felwinter left the main hall and went into the back room. Gregor listened as the hatch leading down to the basement was opened and closed and continued listening for a minute more.

When he was sure Felwinter had departed, Gregor sought out his room. He remembered his own to be on the first floor, to the left from the main entrance. Not much had changed from how he left it. They had finished most of the rooms quickly. Gregor let the rest of his things down, placing his sword against the wall next to the door and unlatching his shield from his back to put next to it.

His eyes burned when he rubbed them. He could feel them demanding to be closed. His room was still dark. The sun was not yet up. Just minutes ago, he was in Solstheim, a half day's trip across the Sea of Ghosts. He should have found that amazing. He couldn't.

Gregor lowered himself down to sit on his bed. He opened his hand and looked at his palm again. His Thane's rune had faded, leaving only his calluses and bruises behind. He rubs his thumb against the palm once, then again, then a third time, each harder than the last. He wondered how permanent it was. He wondered if it could be removed.

Gregor kicked off his boots and slid back on the bed. His eyes still burned with exhaustion but sleep refused to take him again.

Balgruuf would believe him with minimal explanation. Idgrod would be the same. They've both heard plenty of ridiculous things leaving his mouth before and very few of them lies. Brunwulf would be more skeptical but would ultimately understand as well.

Brina and Kraldar were wild cards. His relationship with them wasn't as strong as some but was not as...antagonistic as others. Others like Maven, Thongvor, Siddgier. Markarth's Jarl still wrongly blamed him for his brother's death and rightly blamed him for swindling half-ownership of the silver mines. Falkreath's Jarl was a grown child who would balk at anything resembling actual responsibility and Maven was...Maven. She needed no explanation.

Felwinter's mind was so heavy with the weight of his thoughts that even as the portal moved him, he was barely paying attention. Not when the whiteness faded from his vision, nor when his feet felt solid ground reform beneath them.

But then he took a deep breath, stretched out the pressure digging into his chest. The air smelled of firewood, of garlic and flame-seared meat and it pulled him back to the present. To the sight that was before him. He was in Breezehome, a gentle fire crackling at its center, filling the house with its smell but not its smoke. He could hear the wind outside blowing against the wood but felt no cold.

His mind still far away, he rounded the fireplace, his fingers tracing against the outskirts of the low flame, his barrier keeping them apart. The house was silent. His childrens' room door was closed. As much as he wished to see them, he wished even less to wake them up. They'd likely never return to sleep if he did.

Felwinter slowly made his way up the stairs, doing his best to keep his footsteps silent. Once there, he pulled his heavy bag from his shoulders and held it in hand as he went to his bedroom door. He put his free hand on the knob and after a breath, pushed it open as quietly as he could.

Moth was awake and on his feet, with his back to the door. His jet black hair was out of the knot it was always tied in and fell loose around his ears. Even in the low light, Felwinter could see the small traces of grey that had begun to develop at his temple and at the line where his hair connected to his head. He thought of their last night together before his departure, how Felwinter made fun of them, even as his fingers traced the path he hoped they would take across his head.

Felwinter never could help himself from there. Instead of speaking up in greeting, his eyes roved from the Orsimer's head to his wide shoulders and broad back, where the muscular lines dipped into the back of his pants. There was no stirring in him at the sight, not the kind Moth never failed to elicit from him whenever Felwinter saw him in this state. Instead, it made him remember how used to sleeping against someone he's gotten. How he wasn't sure he could sleep well without it ever again. Felwinter didn't want to speak, make himself known. He wanted…

He wanted to know why he ever thought it was a good idea to leave this bed.

Moth's hands were retying the laces on his breeches. They paused and Felwinter started. He never said a word. His head turned slightly.

He was waiting. "Moth…" Felwinter tried to swallow but he couldn't, nor could he look away.

He hummed at the sound of his voice. "Felwinter," Moth rumbled back, his hazel eyes flicking up and down Felwinter's frame. Then his frowning lips curled up in some semblance of a smile. "You look like shit."

Felwinter blinked. Then, he managed only a slight chuckle, suddenly too drained to do more. "I feel like shit," he whispered back.

A few beats of silence passed them by. Then Moth took the first step forward. At the same time, Felwinter let his bag drop fully to the ground. He stepped forward, reached out with one hand and when Moth took it, there was no pain.

Moth pulled him into a tight embrace, thick arms all but crushing Felwinter's chest against his own. Felwinter's arms had wrapped themselves around Moth's neck. His face was buried against it, the churning thoughts fading to gentle whispers.

Moth hummed again, his hands running up and down Felwinter's back as he held him. "We've missed you, love," he murmured and for the first time in a long time, Felwinter felt the weight of the world leave his shoulders.

The bed was hard and miserably cold. No matter how tightly he tried to wrap himself into the old scratchy covers, the chill always found a way to reach him and seep into his bones.

Felwinter was shaking and trying his best not to cry. The rundown shack his mother had taken them to was so starkly different from what he was used to. Large private bedrooms, soft pillows, clean linen that smelled of flowers rather than something damp and irritating.

He also used to have light. On some nights, his mother would set a dim sphere of light in the corner of his room. She told him she could see through it. The light would chase away the shadows and the very knowledge that his mother would be watching would be enough to keep them from coming back. He wanted to ask for that light, now more than ever before. The darkness in this new house felt suffocating, oppressive. With no light to banish them, the shadows on the walls seemed to advance on him with glee, reaching out with black fingers as long and as pointed as spears. Felwinter's tiny frame only trembled even more. A tiny sob escaped his lips just before he could clamp down.

His mother had left the room to answer a knock at the door. The walls were thin enough between the tiny living room and even tinier bedroom that he could hear her footsteps, her sighing and then her voice. Another voice responded. It was low and deep and familiar enough to take Felwinter's attention away from his surroundings.

The door creaked open. "Ser Roderin," he heard his mother murmur.

"My lady." He could almost see him bow. Hand to the stomach, that was the proper form. "You are settled?"

"As much as we'll ever be."

"And you have begun constructing your wards, yes?"

"The essentials for now. I...I need to rest before I can do more." Her voice was as small and tired as Felwinter felt. He wrapped the covers around tighter.

"I had men scope this place out. I was able to secure one in decent condition."

"'Decent'? There's nothing…" Her voice fell to silence. For a harrowing second, Felwinter feared she might start crying again.

"I am sorry, my lady."

"I'm no lady. Not anymore." Another sigh. Then her voice came back, harder, sharper. "What else can you tell me about the area?"

"People here know House Drakon but they will not know your face," Ser Castel said, "It is...not safe. I do not say this lightly, my lady, there are people here who will try to hurt you. They will try to rob you, beat you. They will try…"

"I am aware of what else they will try to do to me," Delilah said. Her voice then lowered to a mumble. "Young, a stranger, mother of a young child. I know how much of a target I am. How much of a target my son is."

"Everyone is a target, my lady. The key is to not be an appealing one. Here, there is no etiquette to observe when it comes to magic or fighting. No one will challenge you here simply for glory, spectacle or satisfaction. When you fight, you fight as if your life is on the line. As if Felwinter's life is on the line. And you fight to teach a lesson."

Felwinter heard his massive frame shift on its feet in the way the floorboards protested. "He may not be the man you want to think of right now, but you recall, what was the lesson he taught? About fear."

A period of silence. Then quietly, "'Few tools are as effective as terror.'"

Ser Roderin grunted in affirmation. "Lord Lucius trained you both well. You are a better mage than any candle-lighter or aspiring hedge-witch here. That is not a boast, it is a fact. Put those skills to use and if you choose to show mercy, make them grateful that you did. Do you understand?"

"I do. And...I thank you." Another pause. "For everything. I know you've risked much coming here. Helping me and I do not mean to seem ungrateful. It's just that…"

"It is not what you are used to."

"No. It is not."

"You cannot be blamed for the circumstances of your birth," Ser Castel said, "No one can. But I will not lie to you, my lady, this will be a steep hill to climb. With the weight of a child, even more so. Lord Drakon's guard dogs eat better than many of the people here."

"Did you grow up in a place like this, Ser Castel? In Northpoint?"

"Serving your family gave me the means to move my own to a better place but I did. I do not miss it, in truth."

Delilah let out a bitter laugh. "I do not doubt it. And it is on my family's territory. What we...my father could do." His mother sighed. Then asked, "Will you get in trouble with my father when you return? If he finds out I mean."

"I doubt he will find out what I've done," Ser Castel said, "It doesn't matter. You do not need to worry about me. Just yourself and your son."

"I understand. All these years…"

"Since you were children." One of his rare smiles could be heard in his voice.

"It has been an honor, Ser Roderin."

"The honor has and has always been mine." A pause. Then, a low whisper. "May I see him?"

"Please."

Felwinter's eyes hurriedly snapped shut as he heard the heavy steps approach the bedroom he shared with his mother. Despite this, the door opens gently, the joints creaking less than usual. The footsteps come closer now and Felwinter can feel his warmth. The only warmth he's felt in a while.

He felt a heavy hand come down gently onto his torso. Then it grabbed the edge of the comforter and pulled it to his shoulders from where it had slipped. Ser Castel then drew back to his full height. Felwinter could hear him rummaging within his bag and he resisted the urge to open his eyes.

Ser Castel placed something down on the rickety nightstand next to Felwinter's head. Then the hand returned. This time, it touched his head, touched his shoulder and squeezed it gently. Felwinter felt the cold flee him as if in fear.

Then, it was gone. Felwinter only opened his eyes when he was sure he was alone again. They went straight to the nightstand, to what had been gifted to him. Ser Castel had left him a book.

Shucking off the covers, he grabbed it and crawled across the bed to the window, so he could see it in the light of the full moon. It was a light, medium-sized thing, in good condition. The kind of condition Lord Drakon kept all his books. He remembered his mother describing her father as an avid collector, even from a young age.

Felwinter opened to the first page and on the back of the hard cover, he saw writing. He recognized Ser Castel's hand. He moved closer to the window and began to read:

"What does honor demand?

Honor is a strange thing. We view it as an ideal, a standard we must maintain if we are to live good, moral lives. It is a respectable belief. It is an admirable quality.

But I have seen what honor has demanded. So have you. Honor demanded that I step in and defend a lady in need. But at the same time, honor demanded that I show to my patron, my lord, the man I owe my station, my life, my family's prosperity, the utmost loyalty. No matter what.

Did I betray my honor in failing to step in? Did I betray my honor in helping your mother after my lord forbid it? Some will say so to one or the other.

And I would disagree with them all. Because no matter what anyone may say, about chivalry, fealty and nobility, honor will always and only have one demand: That we do the right thing.

I held you back. I kept you safe from a man who would have hurt you. I protected you as much as I could for as long as I could. I know I did not betray my honor because I know I did the right thing.

Stay strong. Train hard. Live well and fully. Until we meet again, Lord Felwinter,

Ser Roderin Castel

Felwinter's breath left him in shutters and his jaw involuntarily clenched. He turned the pages further until he came upon the title of the book. A gasp escaped his throat.

'Conjure Familiar'. It was a spellbook. It was his very first as Lord Drakon had banned him from being taught magic in his home. Felwinter's jaw clenched harder. His lip began to tremble.

He looked up at the window, down the path leading away from his new home. There, he saw Ser Roderin standing directly upon it.

The knight was looking right back.

Felwinter felt so overwhelmed with thoughts and feelings, he wasn't sure how to respond. But he didn't need to. Even in the dark, even beneath his white beard, Felwinter saw the crack of a smile; bright teeth reflecting the light of the full moon. Ser Roderin waved at him.

The tears in his eyes began to fall. Still, he smiled and waved back.

"He is hardy, I will give him that."

"And?"

"That is not enough. You know my terms. You know what he must do."

"He will do it."

"You sound so certain."

"Only because I am."

"And where does this certainty stem from?"

"Faith."

"And nothing else?"

"When it comes to Felwinter, I've never needed anything else. "

"Hm, inspiring. Others will be forced to do the same. Put their faith and nothing else in him. We will see if he does not buckle under the weight."

"He will stand back up."

"More certainty."

"More faith as well."

"I will need to see more to know if this is warranted. I take it you do not?"

"I do not. That is the point of faith."

END OF ACT I: BLOOD OF THE DRAGON

Would you believe me if I told you things are going to get wilder from this point on? Nevertheless, this act was very fun to do. Let me really showcase Felwinter's personality and I think, was a good place to set him up.

Give me some time to set up the beginning of the next Act and I will have it out to you then. Things will likely slow down from this point but that is only because I will actually be starting medical school at the end of this month but rest assured, I plan to see this through to the end.

Thanks, as always, for reading.