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Name

Smoke billowed upwards, camouflaging with the darkened sky above. The fire from which it came burned brightly, creating a glow around the dried grass. It crackled and hissed every now and then as the wood splintered and burnt. Its warmth radiated quite far despite its small size, keeping the two figures safe from the bitter cold that had come about when night had fallen. A biting breeze caused the flame to flicker and one figure to shiver, shifting closer to the comfort of the fire. Hands drew forward, seeking to take advantage of the heat.

Whilst he knew that he could conjure fire to keep himself protected from the chill, he was too weary to use his Magicka. Having been on the road for about three days with little to no rest was beginning to take its toll on him, he wasn't as young as he used to be. It showed in his stamina, often being behind and racing to catch up with his companion. Martin's tired eyes drifted over the flames to stare at the Dunmer.

She sat, crossed legged, on the grass carefully slicing a poor rabbit that she'd poached before they settled for the night. Her focus was intent on the preparation of their meal, allowing Martin to study her for a while longer. When she had breezed into the Chapel, he wasn't sure what to expect but he certainly didn't expect her to tell him of his true heritage. Even now he was still reeling from truth that he was the son of the late Uriel Septim the Seventh. Not matter how much he wanted to deny it, to shout at her that she was lying, he very well knew that it was the truth.

It hurt him to think that his life was a lie; that his father was no farmer and his mother didn't die in childbirth. His biological mother could still be out there but he didn't allow himself to dwell on such thoughts, knowing it was better than to think of it that way. However, he wasn't sure if the bitterness would simply fade overnight. It was strange for news as momentous at that to come from someone who he knew had nothing to do with it all.

After that, she had demanded that he come with her to escape the Daedra that had still poured from the Gate outside but Martin wouldn't follow her until they were all gone. He could remember the regret that had come when she had nodded at him once before striding out the doors, leaving as quickly as she came for he realised that he may have just sent her to her death. He had prayed to Akatosh that she would return unharmed and she did just that. This time with the Captain by her side, who told all that the danger had passed.

Martin stayed true to his word and informed her that he would come to Weynon Priory. And so they journeyed away from the destroyed town of Kvatch, the remaining survivors cheering for their Hero. The tension was apparent in her body as they named her such, coiling at the mere mention of it, like she didn't want to be called that. It was a name that he had to refer to her as for she had yet to give him her actual name.

Of course, he didn't actually call her that, only in his mind when he thought of her. They hadn't uttered many words to each other since leaving Kvatch, just the occasional affirmative that they would be stopping for the night. Martin wanted to strike up conversation with her, being quite intrigued to the mysterious aura that surrounded her and called to him to discover more. But at the same time, he could tell that she was already a womer of few words and didn't want to talk to him.

That of course reminded him of what he may be to her; nothing but a mission. She wasn't here to be neither his friend nor his acquaintance, it was clear the moment they started on their voyage. Why else would she search for him when there was a Gate standing in the middle of a town? Why else would she risk herself to close it? Because he was the last hope Tamriel had to save the Empire, not because she was a kind soul that wanted to save people.

The bitterness from his earlier thoughts creeped up on him again and his brow deepened. He tried to keep the thoughts repressed, knowing that perhaps he was being too closed minded before he actually attempted to know more about the womer. But his frayed and foggy mind refused to let the souring thought loose from their grasp.

"What is your name?" He suddenly spoke, shocking himself as the words fell from his lips but knew it was him trying to keep away from the darker thoughts.

The Hero stilled in her placed, dagger pausing where it had been cutting away at the rabbit's leg. He could tell that the question wasn't anticipated and a small smug part of his rejoiced at being able to catch her.

Her head rose from its bowed position over the meat, frosty eyes that clashed with the crimson staring at him impassively. Her face was still covered by her hood and the mask, making it hard for him to register any sort of emotion. Even her eyes lacked it, unlike the time in the Chapel when he has seen curiosity, a flicker of what the womer is. Now, her gaze remained guarded and he could tell that everything about her was locked up tight. All he had to do was find the right key. He didn't understand why he was so curious about her but it would still be nice to know a little more about the womer who saved all of Kvatch for him.

"It's not important," She replied, going back to the flayed rabbit as if he hadn't even asked her a question and his eyebrow quirked up.

Was she really that adamant about not revealing anything about herself?

"Would you rather I call you Hero?" Her reaction was instantaneous and he knew he'd caught her.

Her shoulders hunched forward and it was like her body was slowly starting to coil into itself. Martin felt a stab of guilt, now realising that perhaps he'd take it a bit too far for it was clear that she was uncomfortable. He went to apologize for his forward behaviour only for her to beat him to it.

"It's Iveona," She began and Martin blinked, actually surprised that she had decided to reply.

She lifted her head again, a hard edge to her eyes as if daring him to say anything. He chose not to, waiting for her to continue.

"Iveona Nethys," She informed him and Martin felt a smile worm its way onto his face.

"A pleasure," He saw her frown, something flashing across her eyes that he couldn't decipher for she bowed her head again.

Regardless of the abrupt change, Martin still felt the smile linger on his face.

A/N; So hellooo; this update is earlier than what I planned my schdule to be but I'm going to have no time to do it next week (it's my birthday tomorrow and I'm doing 10000000 things next week), so yeah. Hope people are enjoying this and thanks to the first reviewer! I'm shook