Inspired by holamayan's Tumblr post about a kid!HoK. Hope you all like this; more will likely be written. Enjoy!

It's a pleasant surprise to Martin when Captain Savlian Matius bursts into the chapel, followed by guards. They're alive, and that means there's hope.

"The gate is closed," Matius announces, and Martin's eyes widen. The Oblivion gate has shut? But…

"How?" Lenka asks. "What did you do to stop it?"

"They didn't do anything."

The young girl who comes through the doors then, however, is a significantly less pleasant surprise. She's clad in chainmail armor, save for a helmet. The tips of light brown pointed ears poke through her dark hair, and the bow she carries is easily more than half her size. A wood elf, then.

She's barely sheathed her bow when Martin speaks. "Why isn't this child in the refugee camps?"

"She arrived after the gate opened, Brother," Matius explains. "We told her to go to the camps. She…went the other way."

"I closed the gate," the girl says, as nonchalantly as if she were saying, I bought some more arrows.

Martin's mouth opens and closes for a few seconds before he manages, "You…closed the gate?" He saw some strange things during his Sanguine days, but a slight elven girl who can't be more than seventeen or eighteen closing a gate to Oblivion takes the cake.

"That's what I said, isn't it?" The girl scowls. "In any case, I'm lookin' for a Martin. You know where he is?" Her voice is laced with a noticeable Valenwood accent.

"I am him. What do you need?"

The girl sets her jaw. "Captain, give me a moment. I need to talk to Martin here."

Matius frowns. "It can't wait? The city is overrun by daedra."

"As a matter of fact, no," she snaps, "it cannot wait. I will only be a couple of minutes."

The girl strides purposefully over to him, takes his wrist in a surprisingly strong grasp, and leads him to a corner, out of earshot of everyone else.

"What do you wish to speak of?" She asked for him by name, not just for a priest, so she can't need healing or anything of the sort. No, what the elf wants is something specific to him…but what?

"Okay, Martin." She lets go of his wrist, looking up to make eye contact. "I can't tell you a lot—we don't have much time, and even if we did, I don't know much. But what's important is that the Emperor told me to find you."

"The Emperor…excuse me?" That's outlandish for about five different reasons, least of which being that there isn't any situation where the Emperor, Divines rest his soul, would tell someone, much less a young girl, to go find a random priest in Kvatch. "The Emperor is dead. Are you...feeling alright, child?"

"No-I'm not crazy." She sighs. "Look, I know this sounds outlandish, but—just listen, okay?"

"...okay." Martin's still not entirely convinced that she knows what she's talking about, but he has a feeling he should at least hear her out. If she is out of her mind, he probably shouldn't leave her to her own devices right now.

"You have to come with me," the elf says. "We need your help."

He might laugh, if the situation weren't so dire and so terrifying. "You don't look foolish, but if you've come to me for help, you must be. Look around, child—what good is a priest right now?"

What she says next, hissed out through clenched teeth, turns his world upside down.

"Martin, you're Uriel Septim's son."

For a moment, Martin is convinced that he's heard her wrong. She must have said something other than telling him that he's the late Emperor's son, because that's ridiculous.

Then that moment passes, and he realizes that that's exactly what she said. "I'm sorry—you think the Emperor is—was my father?" She's mistaken, she has to be. She's a child; they make mistakes all the time. He knows who his father was, and he knows he wasn't the emperor of Tamriel. "You must have the wrong man. I am a priest of Akatosh, and my father was a farmer."

The girl's ear twitches. "I'm not mistaken. The daedra came here looking for you."

Martin's already reached the height of bewilderment, but if he hadn't, that would have put him there. "You're certain?" She gives a tight nod.

He takes a step back, trying to process this. "All this destruction…the entire city burnt…to get to me? Why?"

She gives him a pointed look, bright green eyes narrowed.

"...because I'm the Emperor's son?"

"He knew you would be in danger," she says by way of a response.

"You spoke to him, before he died?" She keeps talking about him as if she did, but when would a teenager have an audience with Uriel Septim?

"I—yeah, you could say that." Martin would expect her to elaborate, but she instead continues, "He told me to find you."

He has about a million questions, but the one he asks is, "How can I believe you?" This is all ridiculous—him, a Septim? He's the son of farmers, not an emperor. The daedra could have attacked for any other reason.

The girl scoffs. "Why would I lie to you? Why would I walk to Kvatch from the Imperial City, close an Oblivion gate, and fight my way through a daedra-infested city, all to mislead you about who your father is? What would I get out of this?"

He has to hand it to her—she's logical. Maybe he has no reason to believe her, but she has no reason to lie. And despite every ounce of sense he has telling him that this can't possibly be true…

"I don't know," Martin relents. "It's strange—I have a feeling you might actually be telling the truth." He shakes his head. "So what does this mean? What do you want with me?"

"Honestly, I'm not sure," she confesses. "I've just been told to bring you to Weynon Priory. Jauffre can explain everything to you."

Weynon Priory. Martin's been, a time or two—it's right by Chorrol. A day or so northeast, if you travel without stopping.

A day or so that he can't spare, not with Kvatch in this situation.

"No." The girl's shoulders tense, clearly taken aback at his response. "I'm sorry, but whether you're telling the truth or not, I won't abandon these people to their fate. You and I can go to the camp for now; once everyone can leave together, I'll go."

"Understandable." She nods. "I'll meet you back there once this is done, then."

"Once this is done?" Martin frowns. "What are you talking about? You should go now."

"Well," she shrugs, "someone has to save this city, and I've got more experience fighting daedra than any of the guards."

"Wait—hang on." He knows what she's saying, but that can't be it. "Matius?" The captain looks over. "You're taking a child with you into a dangerous battle against creatures from Oblivion?"

"Oh, for Y'ffre's sake." The girl scowls. "I think if I survived Oblivion itself, I can survive some daedra on Nirn."

"But-"

"Anyhow, we can't spare any more time. I'll meet you at the camp, okay?" She unsheathes her bow, striding over to Matius. Whatever she says to the captain, Martin can't make out.

"Akatosh, protect her," he mutters. He's pretty sure asking Y'ffre might be more appropriate, but he probably doesn't listen to Imperials, so Akatosh will have to do.

Martin's sure she's perfectly capable of surviving this. He just thinks she shouldn't have to.

True to her word, after Matius gives the announcement that Kvatch is safe, the wood elf jumps down into the camp. (Yes, jumps. It's a ten-foot drop from where she leaps off the hill, but she sticks the landing. Wood elves are certainly nimble.) She walks up to Martin.

"So," she says, adjusting her long ponytail, "the daedra are gone. Kvatch will be alright. Will you accompany me now?"

Martin's not sure how okay he is with a kid having been involved in all of this, but still, he can't help but smile. "Even if I weren't already willing, I can't exactly tell you no, after everything you've done for Kvatch." Closing the gate, driving off the daedra…he may think it's not good for her to be doing it, but he can't deny the nobility of it. "So yes, I'll come with you to Weynon Priory, and I'll hear out this Jauffre."

Maybe it's the biggest mistake of his life, but he can't exactly ignore this, can he? The elf strikes him as the type to not take no for an answer, anyhow.

Her lips twitch in a sort of half-smile, and she says, "Wonderful. Do you have any business to take care of, or can we leave now?" She turns her eyes down to her arrows, which she's cleaning off.

Martin considers for a moment, "Nothing that won't be here when I return." Before they head out, there's one thing he should ask her while it isn't too awkward.

"I don't suppose you have a name?" He doesn't want to keep calling her child—he gets the feeling she doesn't appreciate it.

The girl looks up from a steel arrow. "I sure do. Anialith Springbrook."

Anialith Springbrook. It's a nice name. A pretty name.

"Well, Anialith," Martin says, "lead the way."

Hope you enjoyed! Please leave reviews, I crave validation. I'm noitsbecky127 on Tumblr, but I don't post any writing there that doesn't also go on other fanfic websites, so it doesn't really matter. Anyways, if you liked it, stay tuned for more!