Skyrim and Greek Mythology fan fic

The small wolves howled as the carriage wheels squeaked over the cobbled roads and the leather creaked when the horse moved forward. There wasn't much light around the back road that the travelers were using but there was enough for the captive in the back to see his surroundings. As a matter of fact, there was a lot of light for him to see by, since he was granted the ability to see into the dark night and not be left blind like all the others who were near him. Even with his form, the captive would have been able to overpower the eight guards as well as the traders who were behind the carriage he was in. For they were but a town guard sent to take the person who was believed to have caused all of the havoc in the city of Morningstar, the one led by Lord Duthmar Blackhorn, a formidable warrior of high strength that everyone feared and yet no one knew the truth about. Yet this very captive knew who the Lord was and why he was feared. He wasn't a normal warrior, one who was able to die by normal cause, or who could even be worn out after a great battle. For, the Lord wasn't even human, at least not fully. Lord Duthmar Blackhorn was an alias for a warrior who had been born a century before the city had been built, and the city had been built fifty years before the very raid that had caused the havoc the captive was blamed for. It had been 150 years since Lord Duthmar was born, under the name of Karrick Ashendale, and he was the son of a deity who could destroy even the greatest of armies. Thus was the reason why this captive was shocked when he was taken from his home and yet there were other reasons why the captive hadn't escaped.
The deity, Ares, god of war and siege, had sent many men into battle for his cause, but these guards no longer believed in that god, for there was a rumor of a new god, one who could destroy even the strength of Ares. And thus was the reason for why Rastven was in the hidden cove outside the city of Morningstar when the soldiers marched to the gates of the city and started laying siege to her walls. For, Rastven was not just a warrior of strong background. Rastven was actually named Rastven Ashendale, grandson of Ares and son of Lord Duthmar Blackhorn. Yet the man had refused to reveal this when he had charged from behind the commander and slew the leader of the soldiers. If he had been with an army, there would be no raiding party, yet the outcome had been a defeat for Rastven and he had been taken captive after slaying seven of the party. And still the grandson of the war god refused to speak about his heritage. In his mind, that could grant him an advantage in life and maybe keep him alive in the future. Yet he would have to survive the upcoming execution and then the battle that would ensue afterwards.
The wooden carriage wheel smashed against a small rock and the resulting crash of the axle breaking gave the very distraction that Rastven needed. He had long since removed his binding ropes and had grabbed the small dagger and large broadsword that had been with him when he had taken up arms against the fighting men. Now he was ready for what came next. When the carriage axle broke and the cart rolled over, Rastven ducked his head and let the carriage roll over his head as he landed on his feet. When the carriage had stopped rolling, Rastven had already stood up and dashed to the side of the path where he could ambush the traders, for the other soldiers were too far away and they hadn't seen the crash that had happened. Three seconds after Rastven made it to the side of the path, the traders started to pass. There were two carts pulled by mules and three men along with them, not even a miniscule challenge. Rastven sighed in disappointment and drew his dagger. Then he stepped out behind the third man and cut his throat. Without stopping, the grandson of Ares continued on and killed both of the remaining men before stopping the carts.
He looked to the three dark skinned traders and noticed that all three of them had large purses full of coins as well as some food and a spattering of armor and weapons. Deciding it would be good to have some supplies, since he was a good fifteen miles away from Morningstar, Rastven grabbed the coins and all of the weapons as well as whatever else the traders had. Then he gathered all of the traders' stores into one cart and hitched all four mules to the one cart and sent them back toward Morningstar. When they went that way, the grandson of the war god stalked to the wreckage and saw that all of the soldiers were dead and that there were two horses still alive. So, Rastven grabbed the money and supplies from the four guards as well as the black stallion before he spun the horse around and galloped after the trading cart.

~~~~~~~ Morningstar (midday) ~~~~~~~

Shouts of surprise arose from the throats of the first two guards as they witnessed the galloping stallion and the trading mules pulling the cart. Before them looked to be a strange sight, one that would never meet their eyes again. When they looked closer, they saw that the rider on the back of the stallion was none other than the captive Rastven Ashendale. So they opened the gates and a guard captain met him there to greet him. "Good Morn, sir. What is it that abled you to return to us without a herald being sent? We were sure that they had taken you to the chopping block." The captain was wearing a gleaming iron helm that covered only her eyes and jaw line, leaving her entire mouth area uncovered. That was accentuated by an iron breastplate and greaves over a set of leather riding clothes. The feamle guard captain wore a cavalry sword on her hip and she held and air about her that left no room for belief that she cared about anyone. Yet when the weary Rastven looked up at her and replied, her green eyes glistened and her strawberry blonde hair fell over her face.
"Captain Darkwater, do I sense a hint of worry in your tone, or is it just my imagination?" Even with his tired expression, Rastven gave her a grin that matched no other. His broad shoulders and deep chest swelled as he spoke and his short black hair seemed to wave as he moved his head to look around the city that they had entered. Yet the whole time, he had his brown eyes on the guard captain's, for he was certain that she was glad he hadn't died and he wanted to see if she would admit it. Then he realized that his tattered green shirt didn't hold out the wind and that even with his leather vest on, the shirt still revealed more than he wanted. His bronze skin gleamed with sweat as he tried to cover himself and then came across one of the trader's cloaks. He immediately put it around his shoulders and the ruby red drew his eye to the fact that his face was dirty and he was still in disarray. He had just busted away from the very people who wanted to kill him. "Sir, you know damn well that I do not show worry for anyone." Maria Darkwater glared at Rastven as she said it but she couldn't keep a straight face. "Besides, even if I did, you still haven't given me a ring yet, so there is no reason why I should think I am taken." The air of authority dropped from her voice as the captain of the guard grinned back at Rastven and then pointed to the keep. "Lord Duthmar Blackhorn wishes to see you in Morningstar Keep. I believe he wanted to ask you how the trip went and if you learned any lessons."
Captain Darkwater turned away and slipped her hand down to Rastven's before leaving his side. "If you ever do give me a ring then you can't go running into a fight you can't win. Even a child of the war god can't win every fight he gets into."