#aloyxerend

[dark-t1des-hzd]

Ereloy week day 1: Injury

Aloy wakes up in the healers pavilion in Meridian… / my first attempt at an Ereloy prompt 🧡

https://archiveofourown.org/works/38863023

[ratchetaginger]

My bf when I put one of the books in his hand:

"Wait it's just them kissing and cuddling?!"

Me: "yeah that's the point! It's an Ereloy fancomic!"

Thank you soooo much @godliath !!!!!!! I'm in love with everything!!!💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙

Also my cat enjoyed the packaging

[xtolovers]

The Anvil

Pairing: Aloy x Erend Rating: M ( albeit in later chapters) Warnings: Graphic Mentions of Violence, slight mentions of alcoholism AO3

Chapter 5: First Watch

He stumbles his way down to the shoreline and hopes that Aloy can ’t see his fumbling movements. Prays she is only joking. As he reaches the water he forces his hands to unfasten the straps and clasps of his armor and his head to stop thinking. When he finally sinks beneath the cool surface, he imagines steam rising from his face the same way steel evaporates every liquid it is tempered with. Erend takes a few swift strokes beneath the surface before he comes up again, kneeling in the water and just letting the river run past him. The current is just slow enough to not carry him with it as long as he leans against it.

As he fails not to think about Aloy ’s retort, he wonders if he would also feel so out of his depth here if this had happened before Ersa left for Red Ridge Pass, back when she was there to be his backbone. People mistook him for the warrior and Ersa for the diplomat, but for all her social cunning, Ersa was also made of steel, and while he did not look it, ore was not the only thing he could smith— words had always come easy to him, too. Sure, his position as envoy to the Nora was in part given to him because he was Ersa’s brother— but Erend knew and had proved that he was skilled around people. Back when they had taken Meridian back, Ersa had not been the only one to deliver rousing speeches.

No, he might be an oaf most of times, but Erend trusts himself with words, speeches, diplomacy. He trusts himself with people. He certainly used to trust himself with women. While he hasn ’t been the womanizer some of the Vanguard are — he is aware of the reputation he has to uphold, in general, even if he fails that occasionally — he has also not been without his conquests.

So why the fuck am I so out of my depth all of a sudden?

Ersa was likely not dead, but clearly this had all shaken him up more than he thought. In all this effort to figure out how to be Ersa, he had apparently also forgotten how to be Erend. But he knows that mostly, it just comes down to Aloy being Aloy. There is something so bright about her, it’s like looking into the sun, and something so fierce about her, that it feels like a Stormbird using that sun to it’s advantage for an attack. He certainly feels spark-struck when she is around, try as he might, he can’t deny it. He really should know better. There is something so entirely her own about her, and Erend thinks it must have to do with her not growing up in any clan. Sure, for the most part, she was Nora, but not in the literal sense. He’d seen his fair share of Nora, and Aloy was far from them. Her experiences with other people and tribes were limited, and so nothing has influenced her to be anything other than unapologetically herself, and Erend likes that about her. Maybe too much.

Although, he remembers their first conversation, and he ’d made a mess of that too, way before Ersa was taken. So this was all him, incapable of not making a fool of himself around her. But she’s still talking to him, so maybe he hadn’t messed up too bad.

His cheeks sufficiently cooled, he goes about washing himself, quickly, efficiently, and definitely not thinking about Aloy ’s words. Minutes later, when he’s heading up to the camp again, he briefly considers asking her if she liked what she saw, but ultimately decides against the teasing. He tells himself it’s because he wants to make her comfortable, and not because he is terrified of the answer. As he comes over the ridge, Aloy looks up at him, and gives him the faintest smile. “Feeling better?” “Like a fresh-born babe, just passed over the forge,” he says and stretches theatrically before joining her at the fire. “Passed over the forge?”, she asks, looking up from the arrows she is fletching. Erend nods and puts the kettle back on the fire. “When an Oseram child is born, a day or two later, the whole family — or sometimes clan, depending on the size— gathers around the family’s forge, stokes the fires high, and the parents stand on each side of it. Then the mother passes the babe through the flames, over the anvil, into the fathers arms. It’s a symbolic way of bringing it into the world, a rite of passing through fire, the first step to the destiny that child will forge. It’s supposed to be good luck, for the child, and the forge. Fire, steel and grit for the babe, and fresh life and a strong future for the forge. That is also the day the child gets its name, and the parents will forge something together, and engrave it with the name they’ve chosen. That way, the name and the life of the child is set solid in steel.” He looks up at her then, and she’s staring at him, equally fascinated and wistful. Erend knows she is always curious, but he wonders if he’s made her sad, and well, he can’t have that. “And then, everyone gets drunk,” he grins at her, and the spell is broken, and there’s the eye roll he’s come to know. “Everyone? Even the child?”, she asks with a grin. “Ah,” he mumbles and scratches the back of his head, “ just a sip, really.” Aloy snorts. “ Let me guess: A blessing to guarantee a strong stomach and a cup that’s never empty?” “Now, you try to tell me again you’re no Oseram!” She’s laughing with him, and giddy, he teases, “Although, you’re too skinny for that.” Her laughter stops, replaced by a frown, and he hurries to lift up his hands in apology. “I was only teasing! There is absolutely nothing wrong with the way you look. I mean— ,” he stops himself before he can make it worse. Berating himself, he brushes his hand through his mohawk. Aloy is silent for a moment, then asks, in a low voice: “What happens if the mother can’t be there?” “Hm, the grandmother or aunt, or any other female relative will do it. If nobody’s there, usually one of the elders will step in. It’s more about the gesture than the parents, although everyone wishes for the mother to be there, of course.” She takes that in silently, nodding to herself. When she doesn’t answer, he asks : “What about the Nora? Any naming traditions or something of the sort? I bet there’s half a dozen, with the fascination with motherhood and all that.” Aloy looks up at him, shaken out of her reverie. “ Uh… The parents take the child up through the valleys and mountains on a ledge high up on a cliff opposite Mother’s Heart, the last night of their fifth month. There is a small temple there, and one or all of the Matriachs will wait for them there. Then, they wait for sunrise. When the first light of the first day of their sixth month rises above the All-Mother and touches them, the parents proclaim the name, and if the name is called back by the mountains, the child is blessed by All-Mother.” “What if the name is not called back?”, he asks, and Aloy makes a face that answers his question. “They get shunned?! Because they didn’t yell loud enough?! ” He really tries to be respectful, but the sheer stupidity makes him angry. “Oh no, not them. Just the child,” Aloy says, and there is a

fierce rage in her eyes, that quickly dwindles to embers as she shakes her head and stares into the fire. “Of course, the parents can decide to be shunned alongside, if they want to.” “Fire and spit,” he curses. The Nora had irked him when he was there, but it was mostly because their world made no sense. Now, they make him angry. Aloy is cleaning feathers, the knuckles white from the hard grip on her knife. He shouldn’t ask. Erend knows he shouldn’t. But the night has grown quiet around them, and this might be the only time he’ll ever learn more about her. So he tries, gently. “So… Is that what happened? The All-Mother did not call your name back? You- you don’t have to tell me, if I’m being too forward here, just tell me to shove off.” Aloy looks at him then, for a long moment, head tilted to the side, and he forces himself to meet her eyes, now golden next to the fire, to show her there is no malice in his question. After what feels like ages, she comes to a decision, and shakes her head. “No, it’s alright. You can ask,” she sighs, but it sounds more wistful than defeated. “I’m only curious, you really don’t need to tell me about it if you don’t want to.” Aloy gives him the smallest smile and shakes her head. “ It’s not that, it’s just… until recently, everybody I ’ve ever met knew why I was cast out. It’s strange to have to talk about it. And I guess it was nice being known for something else.” She shrugs, eyes turning back to the flames. “Hey,” he says to get her attention, draw her eyes away from the fire and to his, because he needs her to know that he is serious, for once. “ If you don’t want to tell me, that is okay. I was just curious. It’s up to you. But I promise, whatever you tell me… Well, I’ve already told you what I think about the Nora and their shunning practices. You’re not an outcast to me. I promise, you’ll… just be Aloy. And if you never want to talk about any of it, that’s fine, too. Just tell me to, and I’ll never ask again.” Aloy studies him for a moment, a frown on her face, and Erend thinks he’s done it again, talked himself into a dead end. But then she smiles and nods, and starts talking. “No, I was not shunned because my name was not called back. Rost did that for me, and the name was accepted. I was shunned because I am motherless . ” There is no way to miss the bitterness on the last word. His stomach drops, and he wants to say he’s sorry, but Aloy shakes her head. “No, not what you think. My mother did not die in childbirth— at least I don’t think so. I … In the caverns of All-Mother Mountain, there is a metal door. That is where I was found, as a baby. In a place that his forbidden for anyone but the Matriarchs. There was no one to claim me. And having no mother is the greatest crime a Nora can commit.” The bitterness is back, and she’s staring into the flames. “Lansra was convinced I was the child of the Metal Devil, and wanted me killed, but Teersa convinced Jezza I was a blessing by All-Mother. They could not agree, so they came to a compromise: I would be allowed to live, but not among the tribe. They gave me to Rost, and he raised me, but he was sworn to never tell me what he knew of my birth, and oath he kept. All I ever knew was that my crime was having no mother.”The rage Erend feels at that is a sweltering forge-fire between his chest and his stomach, and he ’s glad he’s not going to be returning to the Nora lands any time soon.So Rost was not her father, Erend thinks, and faintly remembers her words at the gates: The man who raised me. Erend is no religious man, but he sends out a prayer of gratitude for the man who had taken her in, glad she had not been completely alone. “That’s horrible,” he says, laying all the empathy he feels for her into his voice, and she gives him a weak smile. Then he shakes his head fiercely. “ I’m glad Teersa talked sense into the others. She seemed the most reasonable, for a Nora. Sorry,” he adds, shooting

her a sheepish look, but Aloy just barks a hard laugh. “Don’t be. You’re right.” “Lansra was the one with the gigantic headdress?” Aloy nods, and Erend gives a theatrical shudder. “ Colder than an anvil on a ruined forge, that one. Wouldn’t even talk to me or the other blasphemous outlanders. Now that I know that story, I’m glad about that. It probably wouldn’t have done any good for Nora-Carja relations if I’d’ve given her a piece of mind about her customs. Avad might’ve had to fire me.” “I’m sure you could’ve talked yourself out of it. You handled the Nora pretty well,” Aloy says with a smile, and his face grows hot again. “Ah, that was just luck,” he says, and before she can answer, before she can remember how he’d made a fool out of himself in front of her right after that incident, he asks: “ So you ran in the Proving to be accepted into the tribe again? Teersa mentioned some of the rules when she was explaining the whole thing to us.” Aloy looks down at her arrows then, fingers idly playing with the fletching. “No. … Maybe. Mostly I did it because the winner gets one wish from the matriarchs.” She falls silent then, but Erend knows her enough by now to confidently piece together what she wanted. “And you wanted to know who your mother was.” She shoots him a glance. “ I wanted answers, yes. Why I was shunned, who my mother was… I wanted them to look at me and justify it. Maybe I wanted to be part of the tribe too, if only to see… But I don’t think it would’ve lasted. I would not have been allowed to talk to Rost, so I was set on breaking the rules the moment I set foot in Mother’s Heart. I doubt I would’ve stayed part of the tribe for long.” “That does sound like you,” he says with a smile he can’t help,” and I don’t think anybody could blame you. I wouldn’t want to be part of the tribe either, after all they’ve done to you.” A small glance at her tells him she’s lost in thought, but relaxed, so he probes, gently: “ But then the Proving was attacked. So now you’re looking for answers elsewhere?” Aloy smiles, but it’s a sad smile. “No, I won. Before the Eclipse attacked, I won. And then… well, I woke up wounded inside All-Mother Mountain, and Teersa showed me where she found me. Told me that I was motherless. And then…, “ she hesitates, and Erend waits patiently, “then they made me a seeker, to go find answers, find the killers. And I left.” There’s something she doesn’t tell him, Erend knows, but he won’t press her. He’s glad that she has shared this much with him. She’s already told him that Rost died to save her, and it’s clear it was during the attack, and he won’t make her remember that. “Well, if anyone can find them, and your answers, it is you,” Erend says, full of confidence. There are still a thousand questions he has for her, but he doesn’t want them if she does not offer. So Erend swallows them, hoping that he’s shown her that if she wants, she can tell him anything, and let’s it go, saying only: “ Thank you for telling me.” Aloy doesn’t meet his eyes, focusing on her arrows for a moment. “Thank you for listening,” she says in a small voice that rips his heart clean in half. “Always,” he tells her, voice thick, and he clears his throat to mask the entirely unbidden intensity . But if her reaction is anything to go by, he will take the embarrassment, if it means she knows she doesn ’t have to carry these things alone. She doesn’t answer, but he thinks there is the slightest pink to her cheeks, although that is probably only the fire playing tricks, and they both fall silent. It’s no uncomfortable silence, more companionable, Aloy fletching her arrows, Erend cleaning his armor with the hot water, the night heavy around them. “What did your parents forge for you?” Erend looks up and finds her studying him, melancholy gone. “ A small knife,” he answers, and pulls it out of it’s sheath at his side. He passes it over to her, lets her study it. The

glyphs of his name are faded, but still readable, and she traces them with her fingers. “It’s customary for boys.” “It’s pretty,” she says, then eyes him again, “ And what did they make for Ersa?” He can see her hesitation in the question, unsure if the topic is welcome or not, and he can see her react when his expression turns dark, but he waves her apology away. “She got a brooch, like most girls.” Aloy’s scowl matches his own, and he grins. “Yeah, naturally, she loved that. Told you you two will get along. You know what she did? Turn the knife around.” She did as he asked, and he could see surprise and then a laugh as she traced the crudely written glyphs, spelling out his sisters name. “When she was ten, she got into a pretty bad argument with our father of wanting her own knife. He turned her down, harshly, like he was used to do. So I offered her mine.” “Isn’t that bad luck?” Aloy asks. “Nah, we’re not that superstitious. Besides, she engraved my name on her brooch, too.” “Sounds like you are close,” she says with a soft voice as she hands him back the knife. There’s the bile again, rising in his throat, and he fights it down. “Yeah,” he answers, softly, and then adds without thinking: “We had to be.” Aloy looks up and starts to ask him why, but that is a topic he is not ready to think about right now, not as long as Ersa isn’t safe and sound back by his side, so he grins and diverts the subject. “You know, maybe it was bad luck. My father always complained I was too soft, and Ersa too hard. Maybe we mucked it up when we engraved our names on the other ’s gifts.” It’s half a joke, and not that far from the topic before, but Aloy can’t know that. Still, she scowls. “Too soft? Why would he say that? You can hold your own on a battlefield, I’ve seen it, and you helped Avad take back Meridian.” Erend is definitely going red now, and hopes the darkness hides it. “Uh, yes, I can hold my own, but I always liked talking, I was always better than Ersa at being sociable. She was always the warrior out of the two of us. True steel. In comparison to her, I’m soft.” The scowl on Aloy’s face is deep now. “You’re not— that’s not a bad thing,” she says, voice hard and angry. He wonders what he’s done wrong now, until he realizes that Aloy isn’t angry at him, she’s angry for him, and his heart feels like he ’s dropped it straight from the Sun’s Terrace down into the canyon below. He stutters out a thank you, and Aloy looks down at her arrows again with a curd nod, resuming her work, mouth set in a grim line. Erend stops himself from imagining what made her say that, because he realizes that is a dangerous path to take. But the only other thing that comes to mind instead, are memories of his childhood, and thoughts of Ersa, and that is path he doesn’t want to take right now, so he asks Aloy how she wants to handle the next morning. They plan together, and agree that it might take them until mid-day to get the men ready to ride, but Aloy thinks it is worth the delay. They can rest through the heat, then ride a few hours, she says, and then make camp early, because the men will be sore after a couple of hours. “It takes a moment getting used to,” she grins. Erend doesn’t doubt it. Aloy expects them to reach the border of the Carja lands the evening after that, if they make good way, and from there on out they assume it might take them a day more to reach Pitchcliff. Aloy has not been there yet, but it would be two days more on foot, up into the mountains, Erend knows. “It all depends on if we run into trouble of course, but that could happen on foot, too. This way, we might be able to just outrun it,” Aloy says. Erend can’t believe it. Four days instead of seven or eight. “ I’ll get up a little earlier tomorrow and scout the area, find us a herd of Broadheads. We passed Striders before, but I think those might be a bit uncomfortable, especially for Oren,” she says with a

little grin, “ There’s a plateau to the east of here where I’ve had luck before. Might take me an hour or two to get back here.” “Should I come with you?” “No, I’m—” she starts, but he waves his hand. “Faster alone, I know,” he grins. “ Still, if you’re not back after breakfast, we’ll come look for you, okay?” He sees her want to argue, but she seems to bite it down. “I’ll leave a trail.”Satisfied and a little surprised, he nods. “ You should go to sleep then. Our shift is almost over anyways, and if you’re going to get up earlier, you should get the sleep now.” Aloy hesitates, but again, she surprises him and rises. “ Tell them to wake me an hour before dawn,” she says as she gathers her arrows and armor and stows them away. Before she heads to her tent, she looks down at him, uncertain. Whatever she wants to say, she seems to decide against it. She gives him a small smile, and wishes him a good night before she slips into her tent. Erend let’s out a huff and rubs his face. If he didn’t know better, this whole situation would feel like a big, cosmic joke. He spends the next half an hour drinking more tea, desperately trying not to think too much. Eventually, he pulls out the knife, studying the clumsy glyphs spelling Ersa . A wave of sadness rushes over him, but Erend shoulders it and forbids himself to grieve. Nothing is set in steel yet. She ’s survived worse before. And this time, she has him. Not just him, but Aloy, too, and that gives him more hope than he dares to feel. I ’m coming, Ersa. Just hold on. Erend grits his teeth and slips the knife back into its sheath. As he downs the rest of his tea, he gets up to wake Andrik and Beren. As they take their place at the fire, he instructs them to tell Karan he shall wake Aloy an hour before dawn. They ask him why, but he dodges their questions, too tired, and the grin Beren has on his face as he starts to ask a questions dies as he sees Erend ’s face. It’s what he appreciates about them; as much as they love to rile him up and rib each other, they all know when to stop. When he’s finally in his tent, body tired and mind running with thoughts of Ersa, their childhood, and more than occasionally, Aloy, Erend finally sinks into sleep.

Notes:Um. Hi. It sure has been a year, huh? Sorry for the long wait. This fic is not abandoned however, and never will be, even if I am awful at updating. Thank you to all who are still here, welcome to all that are new. Kudos and comments are always much much appreciated and give me incentive to write more!

[hzdphotos]

proud

[horizonzeronikola-blog]

These two bring me undone ❤

[savage-rhi]

Uuuh, I'm loving these prompts! AloyxErend / Worriedly inspecting your temperature after noticing your lack of mood and giving you a chaste kiss on the forehead / thank youuuu!

Coming up!

Aloy sighed, watching Erend get up to tend to the fire. He had been running around everywhere since she started feeling off. Aloy wasn't certain what was going on through her head. One moment she would be fine, the next despair would come in waves. Then again it was approaching the anniversary of Rost's death. It didn't matter how much time passed, for the death continued to have an impact.

"Erend, you can stop now." Aloy tried to coax her companion back to rest. They had journeyed a long way from the Nora, and needed to sleep.

"I'm almost finished. Hold your horses." Erend sighed. He was busy scaling off the fish Aloy and himself caught earlier. Furrowing his brows, he glanced towards her. Concern didn't cut how worried he had been. Aloy was normally very spirited, but as of late she had been a shell of her former self. Erend was beginning to wonder if he had done something to piss her off.

After he tended to the fish and cleaned his hands nearby a stream, Erend ventured to Aloy's side. He crouched down beside her. His eyes scanned over her face before he pressed his palm to her forehead.

"What are you doing?" Aloy made a face, taken back.

"Checking your temperature."

"What for?"

"To see if you're sick. You've been moody." Erend sighed.

"Well, what's the prognosis?" Aloy breathed out. She closed her eyes, reminding herself that Erend was just trying to help.

"You just need a little TLC." Erend mused. He gently grabbed Aloy's chin, tilting her head forward and pressed a kiss to her temple. Even the warm glow of the fire couldn't hide Aloy's blush as she turned red from the action.

"That seemed to perk you up some!" Erend laughed, pulling more away as he let go of her.

"As if." Aloy shook her head, trying to wave him off.

"Maybe I could do that more often?" Erend shrugged. There was a long silence that fell between the two as they stared at one another. Eventually, Aloy softly smiled and lied back down on her mat. She turned her back to him.

"I'll think about it."

Erend let out a playful huff. He got up and went over to his sleeping mat, sitting upon it.

"It was sure nice to see you smile again." He murmured quietly, doubting Aloy could hear him. Erend didn't know that Aloy was listening the whole time.

Maybe she could lean on him more until after Rost's death day passed.

If you like my work and feel generous, feel free to donate to my ko-fi account or my cash app account!

Cash App: $JayRex1463

[echoechowhiskey]

The battle with HADES has ended and Aloy has settled into a new life in Meridian. As she works to untangle the mess that is Gaia, she travels between tribes strengthening their bonds with one another, while simultaneously taking time to strength her own bond with a certain Vangaurd.

She's finding her footing, but without warning that footing falls away as a piece of her past she thought was gone forever suddenly... isn't.

A novel length AloyxErend fic full of love, murder and mystery, with an unexpected twist.

[colcmacgrath-archive]

Tagged by @arsuf, thank you!

Relationship status: single Favorite color: pink, gray Lipstick or chapstick: chapstick Last song:  O’ Death from Until Dawn Last movie: InFamous: Second Son cutscene lmao i dunno i don’t watch movies Top 3 shows: Criminal Minds, Bones, The Walking Dead Top 3 ships: my main ship rn is DelsinxFetch, AloyxErend idk

I tag: @sahuna @eliuthia @saintsrowtwo @wrxnches and anyone else who wants to do this

[demonpassion]

AloyxErend is the OTP of Horizon

- “I’ll always have a minute for you. Maybe even two.’ - “Two? Ha! She likes me.”

[dawnonthehorizon-blog1]

Someone asked me what my “rules” were for shipping. I told them I only have one rule: I only ship Canon.

After about 4 paragraphs of incomprehensible gibberish and an attempted intellectual beatdown, they asked why.

I explained that only the Canon couple has the connection, the interactions, the meaningful moments, the ATTRACTION to each other that make me believe it. Plus they usually, ya know, kiss at some point.

I respect that people are gonna ship…whatever they ship. And that’s ok. I just don’t see it.

Now in a world like HZD, Aloy never “chooses” anyone. So the skies the limit there. I’ll just have an order of AloyxErend, with some Teb and some Varl on the side.

[ratchetaginger]

I love drawing them🥰

[xtolovers]

Wild Ember

Wild EmberCompanion fic to The Anvil Pairing: Aloy x Erend Rating: M ( albeit in later chapters) Warnings: Graphic Mentions of Violence Summary: Aloy is used to the look in people’s eyes when they regard her. Hatred.Mistrust. Disgust. Sometimes, careful curiosity. Even rarer, cautious friendliness. An unreprehended smile, almost never. The looks have changed since she became a brave, and again after she left the Sacred Lands, but they are never that different. She has a mountain of problems more pressing than helping a drunk Oseram find the murderers of his sister. The search for answers and revenge has driven her out of the Sacred Lands and a sense of urgency she can’t explain yet spurns her on. But there’s something about the grief and fury in his eyes that feels so close to her own, that Aloy can’t turn her back on. There is something else in his eyes she can’t turn away from either. Red stains cover her fingers as she’s ripping out another stalk of wild ember. The sun is just cresting over the mesa, casting a golden shine and the deep, long and soft shadows only found at dawn. The sounds from the waking city have started to drift down from the upper rings, but down here at the village set at the foot of Meridian people have been bustling about for the last half an hour. None of them have payed her much mind while she’s wandered the river shore, gathering herbs and passing the time, and Aloy is glad for it.

Back in the Sacred Lands, nobody had ignored her the way these people do. Back there, people acted like she wasn’t there by claiming loudly that they were not in any way acknowledging or accepting her presence. In her mind, she hears Rost’s voice, telling here they were only abiding the law and protecting themselves from even looking like they were breaking taboo, but the words were barely a comfort back then, and now, the grief and anger feel like Metalburn in her stomach. In Meridian all the attention she got was simply because she was a stranger, maybe a novelty as a traveling Nora, but to most of them she was just… part of the crowd. In a way, it’s like she’s not even here, and she can see how that could be lonely too, but to her it feels like a blessing, like sinking into a cool pond. The image makes her groan a little and she uses her free hand to wipe the sweat from her brow. Even though it is barely dawning, Meridian is already almost too hot for her. Admittedly the Blazon Armor helps, although her bare midriff is still something to get used to. It makes her feel unnecessarily vulnerable, but whenever a cool breeze grazes her skin, she knows it is worth it. The thought of spending the next days in the blazing heat of the desert is less than thrilling her, but she supposes it doesn’t make a difference. Even if she had turned down Erend’s plea, she’d still be baking in the sun for a while. Before she can head to Makers End, she has to make a detour to the Spurflints. She wants to curse her compassion, because she needs answers, but Rost’s last lesson has sunk too deep into her bones. To serve a purpose greater than yourself. Because of Rost, she wanted to kill Olin. Because of Rost, she didn’t. And now, this. Of course she had agreed to find Ersa, once she’d found out there was a chance she might still be alive.

A loud guffaw of laughter echoes down from the Eastern Gate, and Aloy taps her focus. Sure enough, she can see Erend’s familiar broad, purple silhouette flare to life, accompanied by five other people. She watches one of them rub his head as she starts to make her way up the ridge. The slightest bit of unease is buzzing in her stomach. This will be the first time she’s travelling with more than one person, and the fact that she is the outsider, again, is not exactly helping. Not like I’m not used to it. And Erend’s there. The thought gives her a little ease. As blunt and exasperating as he can be, Aloy knows his heart is in the right place, which is the reason she is hear after all. “A guy can remember that Aloy is the only reason we even know Ersa could still be alive, so a guy would do better to shut up!” Erend bellows somewhere on the ridge, and as Aloy’s head rifles through what this might have been the reply to, the unease crawls back. “I thought we were leaving at dawn. Where is she?” Another voice asks. The tone is more casual than exasperated, but Aloy clenches the herbs in her hand harder anyhow. She was here on time. She’d done everything right. She tries for sarcastic instead of angry, but her voice doesn’t completely comply. “At first light is what we agreed upon, I believe. She was here then, but because the rest of you weren’t here, I went down to the river and gathered some herbs in preparation.” At her words, Erend turns around, a look of … relief, she decides, on his face, while the other man, who has apparently spoken, clambers to stand up straight at her sight. A blush spreads across his cheek as another Vanguardsmen steps out between Erend and him, older than both of them, with a seasoned but kind face. At the right moment, he twists just so, and his hammer hits the younger man in the head. Aloy thinks of seeing him rub his head moments ago, and has to suppress a grin. The man bows his head to her, and out of the corner of her eye, she can see Erend watching him. “Apologies, m’am. We ought to have been here sooner, there is no time to lose.” Aloy corrects him and offers up her name. She has no business with titles and politeness, and there is no point in wasting time with them, not when the have a life to save.

Karan, she learns is his name, complies without protest, something that doesn’t happen nearly as much as she’d like, and Aloy decides that she likes him. With him and Erend along, she can do this. She sees him send a look to Erend, who clears his throat awkwardly and starts introducing his men. The one who had asked where she was is called Andrik, he’s one of the slimmer ones of the troop, even though that means little. Apparently all Oseram are sturdier in built, and even Andrik is as broad as the stronger Nora men she has met. She supposes he is good looking, in an obvious way, with dark hair falling around his dark eyes, a small beard at his chin, but Aloy can see a cockiness about him that hides insecurity. Two brothers, Beren and Enoch, both young, dark-skinned and the smallest of the group, one with short cropped curls, the other with a shaved head but both with full beards braided in different styles. Oren, a giant towering above the group with a reddish tint to his skin, a light brown bushy beard and a leather cord wrapped around his bald head. She returns their nods curtly, and turns to look at Erend. This time there is no hesitation as he meets her gaze with clear eyes. He is sober, and she is glad. The need for alcohol seems to be replaced by purpose, and she thinks it’s a good sign that he’s able to quit it when he needs to. With a nod she pushes through them, unsure of what to do other than get on the road. As she passes Andrik she makes a point of pushing the wild ember against his chest, hoping it’s enough to assert her presence, before she leads the group through the gates and up the trail. She forces herself not to look if they follow. As Avad’s Vanguard they have to be good fighters she supposes, but drunks or assassins are different opponents than a herd of machines in the wild. Erend can hold his own, she knows, but he is not exactly quiet either, and if they are going to run into machines— and they will— then Aloy would rather be at the tip of the group, dictating the conditions on which they will fight. The sound of several pairs of heavy steps are encouragement enough for her. She half expects Erend to catch up to her, but no one slips in next to her. It’s a quiet procession due north, and the silence behind her unnerves her. Erend alone usually makes more noise than all of them together right now. She would’ve expected a group of them to be loud, talking, joking, a  drunken road-song or two bellowed across the desert. Maybe she has it wrong, or they suppress their Oseram nature. She wonders if that is because of their positions as Vanguard or because of their dire quest. Aloy’s held out for nearly an hour when she glances over her shoulder in curiosity, wondering what had suddenly managed to stop Erend out of all people from talking. He’s watching his steps, and doesn’t notice her looking at him, apparently lost in thought. Erend seems tense, but she supposes that is to be expected given the purpose of their mission. A mission she hadn’t wanted to be part of, at first. Why should you have justice and not me? With a huff she turns back to the road. It wasn’t like she was really going to deny him her help. It was her own need for revenge and answers that needed fulfillment, that made her turn him down at first, not disregard for him. Erend had been one of the first people to treat her without suspicion or apprehensiveness, even if his personality took some getting used to. Back then, in Mother’s Heart, he’d been brazen and confident, clearly enjoying his status as emissary in such a savage tribe, and maybe she’d have found him off-putting, had it not been for the ease with which he’d calmed the crowd and the easy acceptance with which he’d answered her two dozen questions. Two minutes talking to him and it was easy to see that while his bravado wasn’t as real as he put on, his friendliness was. Only later she’d realized that he’d been flirting a little, too, embarrassed at her own obliviousness. Not that she’d wanted to reciprocate, but it made her keenly aware that where she was sure and experienced in the wilds, she was lost and unpracticed in  society. That was the first time anyone had ever expressed interest in her other than a harsh and rude remark made by a drunk hunter somewhere on the edge of some small village, but she still felt stupid for not understanding what he meant. At first, when she had headed to Meridian, she’d thought that maybe he could mistake her appearing there as an acceptance of his invitation, but Ersa’s seeming murder had  put an end to that before it could begin. He’d been happy to see her, but since then he’d made no further attempt to flirt with her— at least she thought so. The Oseram where so blunt and open, Aloy felt like half the time they were flirting with the whole world for no other purpose than simply because they could. But even completely drunk he hadn’t flirted with her once when she arrived in  Meridian, and nor any other time since then, so maybe he’d lost interest. Or maybe he was not drunk enough to miss the look on her face when he’d greeted her, and knew better than to try.

If she was honest, half of the reason why she didn’t accept his plea at first had been the state she’d found him in. Aloy had tried some liquor she’d wrangled from Karst three summers back, and after a few sips and the following problems with walking straight, decided she didn’t like it. Out in the wilds there was no room for inebriation if you wanted to survive, and the few incidents where she’d met drunken Nora— usually men— had been extremely uncomfortable. A part of her could understand him. There’d been a small part, or rather, there is a small part of her still, that wishes she could just diffuse all the pain, all the anger, all the questions. But it wasn’t an option. Rost never drank.

Your mind is a blade, Aloy, useless if not kept sharp at all times. The weird thing was, despite seeing through his bravado, she’d also thought Erend was capable, and when she’d found him at the gate, she was relieved for a moment, expecting his help. That had turned on its head pretty quickly,  and she’d been disappointed in more than one way. Helping him investigate a battlefield wouldn’t just cost her time, if he was going to be drunk and loud and slow to understand, it would cost her twice, and Aloy couldn’t risk it. Don’t act like this isn’t personal. Don’t make me beg. He didn’t have to. In the end, concerns and causes aside, it hadn’t really been in question. She’d spent hours on her way from the embrace to Meridian helping others, Rost’s last lesson still branded into her mind. Erend was right, and turning him down would’ve been cruel. And the pain and fury in his eyes, not disguised or hidden as if they were a weakness, felt all to familiar to her own. So she’d agreed, albeit reluctantly, but told him that he needed to pull it together if he wanted her help. Aloy had vowed to herself that she’d go to Red Ridge Pass and help him only if he was sober. And he was. His mind wasn’t clear, but this time it was only grief and anger, nothing else that occupied his thoughts, and that was something Aloy understood all too well. He’d surprised her that day, following her step by step, trusting her conclusions, closing the gaps next to her in battle. And then she’d looked around and felt the familiar rush of answers to be found, the thrill of the hunt. It didn’t take her long to piece the signs together, and the moment she realized that Ersa had been abducted, not killed, she’d expected to feel envy, but there was none. There was a rush of victory and satisfaction that she’d been useful, because she knew that without her help, Erend would still be grieving someone who was out there, waiting for him. The look on his face when she’d laid out her theory had erased all her doubts about whether or not she’d wasted time. The thought hurt, but she was only chasing revenge. Erend was chasing someone who could still be saved. So when she came back to Meridian and had her theory confirmed, Avad didn’t need to ask her. She was going anyway. But last night Aloy had slept poorly, ill at ease at the upcoming trip, not knowing what to expect of her companions. Now it looked like there hadn’t been any need to worry, because nobody had spoken to her in the last four hours. Aloy tries to shake the thoughts from her mind, but like flies they keep coming back, settling, itching. She focuses on her feet, on their surroundings, enaging her focus now and then, but they’re still close enough to Meridian that the machines are scattered sparsely before them. Above them the sun bears down on them, and she can feel the sweat in the small of her back and gathering in her hair at the base of her neck. They’ve been walking for hours, and it’s almost noon. They’re slow. With a flinch she thinks back to the basement. I’m faster alone. It was true, but maybe a little cruel too. She hasn’t been to Pitchcliff, but by Erends description it is to the north way past Red Ridge Pass, up in the mountains past the desert. If they keep this pace, it’ll take them a week to get there. A week Ersa might not have. They had passed a herd of Striders earlier, and Aloy had considered to get all of them mounts, but the silence weighed heavy on the back of her mind. If they didn’t talk to her because they thought she was strange and a savage, walking up to them with a bunch of tame machine in her wake would probably not help her image. Maybe that’s why Erend isn’t talking to me. The thought makes her angry and for half a dozen reasons, and she starts to walk faster to blow off some steam. Within minutes she’s out of earshot of the group, hand up on her focus, pretending to scout ahead. It takes half an hour of solid effort to let the anger go. It takes half an hour more to swallow her pride and let herself fall back to Erend, but she knows they need the rest. At the last moment she remembers that he is supposed to lead them, and the way he doubted himself, so she leaves the choice to him. “There’s a small valley between those mountains up ahead where we can rest for a bit. Unless you want to push ahead.” “Something you never do, I’m sure. Do you ever eat?” It’s the first real laugh she’s heard of him all day, and a little of her unease slips away. The way he teases her is no different than usual, so it’s probably just the stress of chasing his sister that keeps him silent. Erend turns around and watches his men for a second, all  of them avoiding her eyes.

Or maybe it’s his men’s opinion of me.

The dread comes back a little. Aloy pushes it down. It’s nothing she hasn’t handled before. “Let’s rest.” With a nod, she turns away, and hurries to the front of the group, where she doesn’t have to see the looks. Just as she’s pondering whether or not she should tell Erend that she will hurry to Pitchcliff alone and scout ahead, she can hear steps picking up behind her.

[xtolovers]

Wild Ember

Wild Ember Companion fic to The Anvil Pairing: Aloy x Erend Rating: M ( albeit in later chapters) Warnings: Graphic Mentions of Violence

Chapter 2: Ochrebloom Root

“If I might ask, what does this… device show you, Aloy?” It is Karan, not Erend who slips next to her. Careful, she studies his face, but can find nothing but friendly curiosity, and she relaxes. “It shows… well, everything, almost,” her brows furrow as she tries to find the right words. “It’s… like everything around me is covered in a net of light, and only the important things get caught in it so I can focus on them. People, animals, and most importantly, machines. But it doesn’t just show me where they are, it tells me what they are, shows me their weak points, the paths they will likely take…” “That sounds… “, Karan trails off, apparently unsure of what to say. “Unbelievable?”, she challenges with a laugh. He chimes in with a pleasant low chuckle, and grimaces apologetically before his curiosity returns. “Does it do that with humans too?” “Show me their weaknesses? No. Maybe because they’re either very obvious or not as palpable. Either we have them all, or each one of us has them individually. We’re not as easy to categorize as machines, I suppose.” “Oh, I have to disagree with that. We categorize ourselves frequently, firmly and with favor, and I would admit our collective weaknesses are very evident.” At her puzzled look, he continues: “ Well, the Carja’s weakness is their stiff adherence to protocol and their vanity. For the Nora… I suppose their rigid beliefs and maybe… their fear, though I can only judge that by rumors and reports of others. You seem to contradict that, as have the Nora I have met, but I suppose given the fact that I could meet them makes all of you outliers of the general rule.” He gives her a careful look, making sure that he hasn’t offended her, and Aloy gives him a grin. He isn’t wrong. Satisfied, he too, grins. “ And well, for us Oseram, it’s clearly a hearty drink- and being too strong and handsome for our own good.”

At this, she has to laugh. He hasn’t struck her as very Oseram until now, with his more mild manners and thought out answers, but now she can see that it is experience, not lack of temperament that subdues the Oseram nature in him. “Or their famous humility, and how stealthy and fast their armor makes them.” With a laugh, she raises her hands in surrender. “Alright Karan, I’ll give it to you. But that only proves my point: I don’t need my focus to point out our weaknesses.” “I suppose not. But how did you find Ersa then? Erend tells me you… read the land and it showed you what happened.” “That’s not exactly what happened. The focus shows me a lot of things- I have had it for some years now, and I still feel like I have only uncovered a tiny bit of what it can do. There are a lot of things I still do not understand. But it does show me trails of blood to follow, path someone has recently taken, things that have been disturbed. It helps me identify things. But it does not tell me what has happened. It  shows me… clues, and I can only try to put them together. What happened to Ersa was a guess— one that was luckily right.” “Then we are even more indebted to you than I thought.” The words make her stiffen a little. “You are not indebted to me, none of you. Erend helped me, and now I help him— and because it is the right thing to do.” Karan is silent as he thinks about her words, then he nods, more to himself than to her. “I see what you mean, but I think you might underestimate another Oseram weakness: stubborn honor.” Aloy snorts. “We’re chasing a pretty dishonorable Oseram right now.” “As I said: outliers.” Karan shrugs good-naturedly. She wants to ask if he is an outlier too, but ahead of them, the path winds down towards a river-bend in a small valley, and their conversation stops as they make their way down. The Vanguard spreads out and pull their packs down as Erend stomps over to her, a scowl on his face. “Do you mind clearing the perimeter?” She frowns at the frustration in his voice. He knows she can easily check their surroundings from here, but she trusts he has a reason. With a shrug, she jogs away, following the edge of the valley for a little bit before she crosses back and over the small river. There she stops and gathers the cool water in her hands to wash her face. It’s a new, fresh relief she hadn’t experienced before she had left Daytower three weeks earlier. Sure, the summers were warm in the embrace, but nothing compared to the soldering heat of the desert. With a huff she brushes the thick tangle of her hair from her neck, slick with sweat, and sighs with relief as she dampens it with fresh water. A quick swim would be a relief, but Aloy knows better than to wet her new leather armor with hours left on the road before she can take it off. Instead, she dips her hands back in, letting them drift in the slow current. When she returns to camp, all of the Vanguard are sitting down, silently bowed over their food. Karan hands her a package of burlap. He gives her a small smile, but turns around and sits down next to Oren. Inside the satchel she finds a small loaf of dark bread, a piece of hard cheese and small links of dried, spicy boar sausages, some dried fruit. Nothing fresh that needs to be hunted or gathered. No time wasted away from the forge or a fight. They eat in heavy silence, the soft rush and the occasional roar of a few faraway Tramplers the only sounds to be heard. She glances over to Erend, but he’s staring at his food, shoulders tense. He’s probably calculating the progress they have made this far, and how long it might take them to get there if they kept their pace. Calculating how the northern weather might stop them probably, just like she is. Worse, probably. Aloy can still hear his voice break over the word face. It had turned out it hadn’t been Ersa, but until they find her alive, he’s likely still imagining her that way. It’s unreasonable self-torture and doesn’t help them, and so she’s sure Erend is doing it. If it were just the two of them, she would make an effort to distract him, but there are five men sitting around them, that haven’t — save for one— made any effort to talk to her. She mulls it over as she slowly chews her food, until an unbidden thought that had been chewing on her the whole day breaks through and settles in her stomach like a stone. Maybe he’s not thinking about Ersa, maybe he’s just avoiding me because he’s embarrassed to talk to me in front of his men. She’d heard the names they call her in Meridian now, the Vanguard most of all, now that she’s deciphered Ersa’s disappearance. The Nora Outcast. The strange Redhead. Machine Huntress. The All-Seeing. Who knows what else they thought of her. Her gut tells her that is not what’s happening, but the years of exclusion and banishment have sunken too deep in her bones. The helpless anger is gnawing at her, trying to wind its way back into her head. She knows that’s likely not what is happening, and she knows that even if it is, it doesn’t change anything. Erend has helped her. Ersa might be alive. And if she can save her, she will. But she can’t drown out the voice inside her that wonders if it will be like this wherever she goes. It’s a quiet hour that they spend resting beside the river. Aloy lies back on the ground and closes her eyes, trying to forget about the heat, the silence, the thoughts. Partly she succeeds, and by the time they gather their things, she has resolved to look for mounts to speed their travels. She wants to think it’s because she’s the bigger person, but there’s a small voice inside her head that can’t help but think that if they’ll shun her for it, at least she’ll be rid of them faster. Without a word she pushes back to the front of the procession, happy to pretend there is only herself and the trail before her. The sun arcs across the sky as the miles disappear beneath her feet. Her whole body clings with sweat. Behind her, the men chat in low voices. After a while they cross a small herd of Tramplers. Aloy watches them through her focus, but they do not seem to be moving out of the way. With the river to their left and the rise of a mesa to their right, and not much cover between them, she decides the easiest will be to just take them down. She warns the Vanguard, and Erend signals them to form up to the right of her. The herd is evenly split, so Aloy stalks to the right, and draws out two Chillwater Arrows. Four seconds later, the two Tramplers on the left are roaring and covered in frost as she lets lose two more Chillwater Arrows toward the two machines on the right, while the Vanguard starts to rush in. Aloy rushes forward, and switches to Hardpoint Arrows. Two quick strikes and the processing unit of one Trampler explodes. She runs past it and dodges the fire blast of the other one, nocking two arrows at once. There’s a boulder two her left, and in three quick steps she’s on top of it, launching herself into the air, sending the arrows straight down into the other Trampler’s power cell. She lands and rolls away, barely dodging the now burning Trampler that is coming for her with its last steps. The machine staggers and tries to turn around, before it sinks down in a shower of sparks and flame. The second one follows seconds later, as she sinks her spear into the cords and wires of its neck. She stands back up and looks over, spear gripped tight, adrenaline drumming in her ears. Erend is standing next to a dead Trampler, a look both incredulous and amused on his face as he keeps looking between her, and Andrik and Enoch, who are both standing next to her and staring at her. Behind them, the other three are just taking down the last Trampler. Uncomfortable with the attention, Aloy turns around and starts to loot the machines. Behind her, she can hear the loud Oseram elation of a won fight, their dissection of the fight and who played what part, and surprisingly, easy praise for her skill. Irritation buzzes in Aloy’s head, and she pushes all the guesses and thoughts aside, telling herself that it doesn’t matter what they think or if they approve. She’s got better things to do than worry herself with what’s going on in an Oseram’s head. Back on the road she is looking out for possible mounts, but luck is not on their side. A herd of Grazers is all they cross, worthless for her purpose. So they put one foot in front of the other, and continue their slow procession north. It is late afternoon when they decide to make camp at a river bend next to a cliff, a position easily defensible, with fresh water, cover and, as her Focus tells her, no machines but two geese nearby. The purple lines vanish around her as she taps her Focus, and there are heavy footfalls behind her. “So what is it this time? Machines to take down, or killers to track?” It’s the first time he sounds like himself today as he refers to their discussion back at Red Ridge Pass, and she can’t help but smile. “No machines except a few Glinthawks south of here, but they don’t worry me,” she points in the direction, and Erend stares at the mountain, confused, before shooting a glance to her focus. “ There are some geese downstream however.” Before they can escape she hops over the river and sinks into the tall grass. It’s an easy hunt:  a quick stalk through the underbrush, two quick arrows and their dinner is settled. Only when she gathers the birds does she realize that she just left Erend standing there. She feels a little guilty, but there’s no way to change it now, so she starts gathering Ridgewood on her way back to the men, to replace the arrows she has used earlier. Aloy can hear them way before she can see them. It makes her a little uneasy how loud they’re being, but they have shown her that they are capable enough to hold their own. They’re just so different. But that doesn’t mean she can’t adapt— for now at least, until they’re actually close to Dervahl and his men. Then, she hopes, they’ll forget their Oseram blood for a little while. Enoch and Oren look up as she steps out of the grasses and crosses the river. The others are raising tents, and Aloy sees they have made good progress on their makeshift camp while she was gone. No one acknowledges her, but they don’t avoid her eyes as they did earlier anyways. Without any further comment, she sinks down to the ground and gathers the birds in her lap, gripping a fistful of feathers. As she pulls them out, a large shadow slips infront of the low sun as Oren approaches her and stretches his hand out towards the geese. “Let me handle those. You did the catchin’, I do the cookin’.” His voice is deep and booming, slow, but deliberate. Aloy studies his face, but can see no hostility or afterthought in it. She mulls it over, but her gut stays silent, so she gives him the birds and a smile. “Never been much of a cook myself, anyway.” “But an excellent huntress, I can see. Straight through the head.” “Can’t afford to waste the meat when you’re the only one feeding yourself,” she adds, wincing a little at how… savage that must sound, but Oren doesn’t bat an eye. “And good training for aiming at anything with even bigger heads,” he retorts. She laughs. “That, too.” Oren steps away and reveals Erend, who is across the camp, building her tent there. A strange feeling settles in her stomach, equal parts warm and reluctant, and she gets up and walks over to him. “You didn’t have to do that.” She isn’t exactly polite, but Aloy is not used to people doing things for her, and it makes her uncomfortable. She knows that it is a normal part of life, of company to do these things for each other, but it’s just so weird to her. Once Rost had shown her how to build her own tent, she had had to do it herself. Because in the end, he might not always be there to do it for her, so she needed to be able to rely on herself. He was right, in the end. “Eh, had nothing better to do, and you were already making yourself useful, so I thought I should do the same,” Erend grins sheepishly. She’s noticed that tendency in him, to put himself down, and it irritates her just a little bit. Aloy never had time or leisure to doubt herself, because doubting could easily mean dying out in the wilds. Erend had all the leisure in the world to doubt himself. He was showing her a kindness, but all she could see was how different they were. She did her best not to judge that too harshly. With a soft smile and touch to his shoulder—  a silent thank you— that is easier to give than to accept his help out loud, she gathers the straps out of his hands and finishes what he’s begun.

From then on, it’s easier. As they sit around the fire and eat the geese that Oren has cooked way more expertly then she would’ve ever managed, the men chat with enthusiasm. After the first occasional lull, Erend starts telling stories of the Vanguard, each one more silly or outrageous than the other. Aloy has to think back to the day she met him, easily dissolving the Nora’s misgivings and capturing their attention and trust. He makes her laugh, makes them comfortable, and soon they all have tears in their eyes as he relates a story about Andrik’s misguided attempts to seduce what Aloy can only assume was probably Talanah. She isn’t directly part of the conversation, but not excluded from it either. Whenever there’s a story that she can’t quite follow, one of them throws in a short explanation for her benefit. The sun vanishes behind the cliffs, the sky above them drifting from blue to orange, and Karan declares that he will take the last watch. Aloy offers to take the first watch, sure that the men who are used to walking the streets of Meridian and not miles and miles of desert would be glad to get the sleep. She’s used to it, and she’s sure that the men will gladly accept her offer. Given her “second sight” as they call it, she can easily cover a shift alone. But they surprise her, insisting that she and Erend take first watch together. Aloy can see him blushing and sending sour looks towards his men. She assumes they want to keep him company so he won’t think too much about Ersa, but staying up with either of the men would only result in drinking. She’s the logical choice. Erend, however, doesn’t look happy. He probably resents seeming weak in front of his men. They banter as they gather their things, and Aloy grabs the Ridgewood she has gathered. She bows over the task, thinking of tomorrow and mapping the parts of the way that she knows in her head, trying to think of the closest spot to get a mount. Silence settles over them as the evening slowly swallows all daily noise. Aloy figures she should ask him about the mount situation, but as she looks up, Erend his staring into the flames, stoking the fire and lost in thought. She wonders what he’s thinking about. Ersa, probably. Drinking. Or maybe his new situation. Maybe something else entirely. Since she came to Meridian she’d seen his moods shift swifter than the winds out on the planes. Raging, shouting, when he thought his sister was dead. Now, where she’d expect him to be foolishly hopeful, he is silent and brooding. Two weeks ago she thought that he was rather… straightforward in his thinking, but now, Aloy’s not so sure. “How are you doing?” He looks up at her just a second before the words leave her lips, and she can see she’s taken him by surprise by breaking the silence. Erend takes a second to respond, looking away from her and back to the fire. “Haven’t had a drink in nearly a week, so could be better. It helps that I don’t have to mourn Ersa now, but the worry isn’t exactly better.” Aloy is glad he isn’t drinking anymore, but it hasn’t escaped her notice that he has barely touched his food. Sure, he was busy telling stories and making them laugh, but she knows there is more to it. While she can’t blame him for it, she needs him strong and capable. She doesn’t have a way with words like he does, but she’s good at surviving. If that’s all she can offer, she’ll do that. “You didn’t eat a lot.” Erend brushes it off with his easy smirk that she doesn’t entirely buy. “Eh, I’ll eat better once we have her back, and once I can have an ale with it. Before that, my stomach is denying me its work.” “Are you in pain?” “Nah, just… queasy. Happens to the best of us, right?”, he pauses briefly, then his lip twitches slightly. “ It does happen to you, right?” Aloy can’t help but roll her eyes. Always evading, always playing it cool. Well, she can help with that, too. As she rises to her feet she orders him to boil some water. With a tap of her finger, her focus flickers to life and she turns and walks out into the darkness, looking for the familiar ligneous stalks surrounded by dozens of red blossoms. It doesn’t take her long, and she starts to dig, pocketing the blossoms and stalks before she rips off the roots. She jogs to the river beside them and rinses the dirt off it and returns to the camp where Erend has complied to her request and his expecantly looking out into the darkness, waiting for her. “Ochrebloom root. The tea will help your stomach,” Aloy explains at his quizzical look. She slips the knife from her boot and slices the root into pieces and throws them into two cups before she pours the hot water in them, Erend silent next to her. He murmurs a quiet Thank you that sounds too gentle for the Erend that she knows, and with a nod they sink back into silence. The thick, slightly bitter and spicy steam that rises from the cup envelops her, the scent both comforting and upsetting. It’s a smell that reminds her of Rost, of grief and strangely, the passage of time. Rost had prepared this brew for her a couple of times when she was a child, but she hadn’t known what it was back then. He’d only explained to her when she had started to get her monthly blood, and the accompanying cramps, to boil the roots of Ochrebloom stems to help alleviate the pain. Naturally, the whole thing had sparked questions from her, and he had sat her down to explain that she was growing up. Becoming a woman. And, consequentially, what all that was for. Told her that she could become a mother now— and how. For the Nora, the first blood was a sacred thing. The threshold to becoming a woman, and thus the threshold to motherhood. Had they been of the tribe, Aloy would have been celebrated that day, blessed with gifts— necklaces, carvings, braids and beads, and blessings of the High Matriarchs. Because they weren’t, there were no blessings. But because Rost was Nora to the bone, he had carved her blue beads in anticipation of this day. That night, he wove them into braids as he answered all her questions. It was one of the few times she’d seen him unsure, as he’d explained what happened between a man and a woman. That part hadn’t concerned her that much then— she has grown up in the wilds, she has seen animals mate, and once or twice some Nora couple that had stolen away into the bushes, while she was out hunting with her focus on. What had concerned her was that now, she was on another journey that she hadn’t anticipated. Of course she’d known that she was a girl, and by logic, also a woman. But because of the lack of any female examples in her life, she had never thought that that meant she would change. That night, she couldn’t sleep, plagued by questions about womanhood, about what that meant for her identity, about her place in things, questions that she still had no answer for, and for the first time she had felt the passage of time, that she was aging, that her journey was stretching far beyond what she could guess, past the Proving, and how the change and answers that would come with it were only the beginning, and that her identity was comprised of more than just being an  outcast. And most of all, that night, she truly felt motherless. Rost came over then, and silently placed a cup of the purple tea on her bedside, sensing her quiet struggle, but leaving her room to deal with it on her own terms. From then on, the taste of Ochrebloom tea was one connected to pain, but also with comfort. Until the Proving, and the following weeks, when it started to taste of grief and explosions and blood. Now it upsets her stomach as much as it helps settle it. There’s the faintest reflection of her face on the surface of her cup. Aloy can see the blue spots of the beads in her hair, and wonders if she has become a woman yet. An awkward cough pulls her from her thoughts as Erend shifts next to her. His contrite expression catches her off guard, but less so than his words. “I… have something to confess.”

[xtolovers]

The Anvil

Pairing: Aloy x Erend Rating: M ( albeit in later chapters) Warnings: Graphic Mentions of Violence, slight mentions of alcoholism AO3  / Fanfiction.net

Uncomfortable

“I can’t move troops to the border without provoking the Oseram. But I could send a few Vanguardsmen… and perhaps an exceptionally gifted Nora as well?” Erend suppresses a growl as he recalls Avad’s words from the day before. If he’s honest, it’s less the words — Aloy certainly deserves the praise— but the look and step forward that accompanied them. He doesn’t know if the rumors about Avad and Ersa are true, and fire and spit, he doesn’t want to think about it, but even if they aren’t, he still can think of a good dozen reasons why the Kings praise rubs him entirely the wrong way. Sure, one of them might be his… fondness for Aloy, he will admit as much, but there is a reason he thought Ersa and Aloy will get along well- both of them are free. And Avad might be likened to the sun all day and all night, but he is tethered to his throne and to his people. So why that damned look? “So cap, is she really as pretty as they say?” Irritation turns to anger as Erend turns away from where his eyes are searching the bridge, ready to give Andrik a good punch. 

“Ouch!” As he turns he sees that Karan has beat him to it: Andrik is rubbing the back of his head with an insulted look on his face while his second-in-command crosses his arms. “What matters is if she’s as proficient as they say. Our goal is to get Ersa back, not to help you with one of your conquests,” Karan snaps. Erend gives him an appreciative nod. The older man was— is one of Ersas most trusted companions, and Erend knows he can count on him. In the past two weeks that he’s been staggering around trying to fill Ersa’s shoes, Karan has helped him more than once, and he is grateful for him, even if his competence makes Erend feel even more useless. Andrik shrugs, not bothered. “A guy can ask, can’t he?” “A guy can remember that Aloy is the only reason we even know Ersa could still be alive, so a guy would do better to shut up,” Erend barks. He knows he’s being hypocritical, because her looks were the first thing he himself had noticed, and Andrik hasn’t even met her. But back then his sisters life hadn’t been on the line and he hadn’t seen what Aloy was capable of. Andrik is a good guy, but his comment makes Erend grit his teeth. His shoulders feel as if they’re made of steel with all the tension they’ve been holding in the last weeks, and he knows that spending the next week watching Aloy dodge Andrik’s flirting will thoroughly exhaust his patience. He needs her to find Ersa, and distracting her is off limits. He willfully pushes down the tiny part of his brain that thinks that that’s only half of the reason he wants Andrik to keep his thoughts to himself. “I thought we were leaving at dawn. Where is she?” Andrik asks as he’s leaning himself back against a bridge post. “At first light is what we agreed upon, I believe,”a voice rings out behind him. Andrik snaps upright, and Erend and his men turn towards the path next to the bridge, Aloy crosses the last few steps of distance between them, eyebrow raised defiantly, a bunch of wild ember in her hand. “She was here then, but because the rest of you weren’t here, I went down to the river and gathered some herbs in preparation.” Andrik opens his mouth to reply, and that can’t mean anything good, but before he can form the words, Karan steps forward and turns to Aloy, his hammer conveniently swinging just so that it slightly hits Andrik in the back of his head. “Apologies, m’am. We ought to have been here sooner, there is no time to lose.” Erend watches Aloy’s eyes linger on Karan’s hammer for a second, the slightest smirk on her lips, before she scowls and shakes her head. “My name is Aloy, no need to call me anything else.” With a gratuitous motion that Erend couldn’t pull off if he wanted to, Karan bows his head. “ Karan. At your service, Aloy.” Then he looks expectantly to Erend, who feels like a complete ass because he was too slow again. Too slow to call Andrik to order, too late to gather his men, too late to apologize. Karan’s meaningful look feels like a gesture of pity, even though Erend knows it’s one of respect. Respect you haven’t earned. He clears his throat. “Apologies, Aloy. Karan here is my second-in-command. This bung over here is Andrik, these two are Beren and Enoch — they’re brothers —  and this is Oren.” Each of his men nod to her as he calls their names, and Erend feels that the introduction is far more lackluster than it ought to be for a Vanguard strike team, but for the life of him, he can’t recall what Ersa used to say. He’d have to ask her. This time, he’d learn from her as much as he could. Aloy returns their nods, plainly studying each of them for a brief second. At the end, her eyes meet his, searching,  and Erend knows what she’s looking for. He meets her gaze steadily. After a second, the green in her eyes becomes the tiniest bit warmer, and she nods, apparently pacified.

“Then let’s go.” She strides right through them and presses the wild ember against Andrik’s chest without any further comment. Beren and Enoch snicker as he starts to tie the bundle to his sack where it can dry. His men start following her up the ridge, towards the way that will lead them north to Pitchcliff, and Andrik shoulders his sack before he grins. “So she is pretty.” This time, Erend is not too late. Karan’s and his hand smack Andriks head exactly at the same time.

About an hour past noon Aloy looks over her shoulder and let’s herself fall back next to him. Until then, she had steadily led the group, always on the lookout, only slowing when she was engaging her focus. His men had given her some distance— by Erend’s orders. They’re good men, and he’d easily die for each of them, but Erend remembers how uncomfortable and overwhelmed she had looked back in Mother’s Heart during the celebrations. Aloy wasn’t used to being surrounded by people, and his men weren’t exactly considerate. Since yesterday when he’d broken the news to them, all of them had been gripped by a sense of restlessness and a thirst for revenge, and he was too grateful for her help to make her uncomfortable. “There’s a small valley between those mountains up ahead where we can rest for a bit. Unless you want to push ahead.” Erend shakes his head with a laugh. “ Something you never do, I’m sure. Do you ever eat?” “Sometimes,” she shrugs, but the corner of her mouth twitches. He takes a look around at his men. If he asked, they’d march all the way to Pitchcliff without a stop or complaint, but Erend can see that the hours on the road have taken their toll. “Let’s rest.” Aloy nods and scans the area around them, apparently content with her findings. She starts walking faster again, and Erend has to push down the urge to follow. Instead, Karan slips next to her, and he can see her tense up for a moment. This was exactly what he didn’t want. “If I might ask, what does this… device show you, Aloy?” Erend sees her contemplate for a second, and then her shoulders drop and she starts answering him. After a second of contemplating it, Erend decides against interceding. “Why is Karan allowed to talk to her and I’m not?” Andrik asks behind Erend’s right ear. “Because Karan can behave himself, and you’ve already insulted her once today,” Erend growls back. Andrik mumbles something but falls silent as he sees Erend’s face. Up ahead, Karan and Aloy are chatting amiably, laughing now and then. He should be happy that she’s getting along with someone— their trip could last at least two weeks after all— but it doesn’t sit right with him. Aloy and Karan are chuckling ahead of him, and Erend’s teeth grind together. He really hopes he isn’t seeing what he thinks he’s seeing. Karan is a good man, but he’s twice her age. But he can see why, with the force of nature that she is, that wouldn’t stop somebody. Yesterday when she arrived at the palace she was suddenly clad in Blazon Armor that barred her midriff and clung to her body, and the only thing that kept his mind on the task and his eyes from Aloy’s navel was the thought of Ersa suffering somewhere in a dark dungeon. Now that she was walking ahead of him, hips swaying slightly with each step and the sun on the very well defined muscles of her back and her legs, Erend was sure he’d be sore tomorrow with the effort it took not to stare. Embarrassingly, he was doing a poor job of it, catching himself a couple of times, or at others, hearing Beren’s snicker behind him. But fire and  spit, Andrik is right— she is pretty. Who could blame Karan for noticing? Sure, they are talking about tracking techniques now, and all Erend sees is respectful camaraderie between two travel companions, but still. Karan is, despite his years, a damn good looking bastard. The sun and the fights have done their fair share to cover his face with wrinkles and scars, but his skin is tanned from the sun, his hair fair and golden, even if there is the odd white strand showing now and then. For an Oseram, he’s unusually slim, not as stocky as the rest of them, but muscular enough to make up for it. Erend has visited enough taverns with him to see women fawn over him and his stupid blue eyes, a lot of them not much older than Aloy. Bastard. By the time they reach the valley and start to make camp, Erend is thoroughly annoyed. “Do you mind clearing the perimeter?” He turns to Aloy, who frowns for a second, but shrugs in the end and jogs to the other side of the valley, scanning the surroundings. Before Karan can get any ideas, Erend turns to him and asks him to start distributing the food, something that usually is Oren’s task. Karan studies him for a moment and he can see him barely suppress a smirk as he nods and turns around to comply. “Of course, Captain.” He’s sure he’s hearing Beren and Enoch chuckle behind him, and Erend turns away to study the landscape as he feels himself blush. In a week he’ll have Ersa back, and she can wear her own damned boots again so that he doesn’t have to stumble around in them and feel like a gods-damned fool. Aloy comes back to them without any news, and an awkward silence settles over their group as they all silently bow over their lunch. He can feel her eyes on him a few times, searching, probing, but she doesn’t say anything. Her shoulders are stiff again. They rest for an hour, and then they continue their track the same way they have so far, with Aloy slipping to the front, leading them north. Mostly they make good time. The further they get from Meridian, the more machines they see, usually further away. At some point they happen upon a small herd of tramplers, and Erend has to grin as his men disbelievingly watch while Aloy takes down two of them by herself while the Vanguard collectively handles the other two. As they bring down the last one, she pushes her arm in all the way to the shoulder and rips out the machine’s heart with a well practiced twist of the hand.  His men step back and let her do the looting— it’s easy to see she’s far better at it. Despite their protest, Aloy disperses the parts between the men and herself. Above them the sun crawls their way over the sky as they slowly make their way north, the men chatting amongst themselves as Aloy strides ahead. Now and then he can see her scanning, and Erend has the feeling she is searching for something. Once she startles, only to sink down disappointed, and he hears her mumble Grazers. She leads them around the herd without disturbing it. Several times, when he’s not busy thinking about Ersa or wishing for a drink, Erend considers going up to her and striking up a conversation, but he has no idea what to say, and he’s afraid to make an ass of himself again, so he leaves her be. They decide to make camp at a river bend next to a cliff face. He sees Aloy scan their surroundings. “So what is it this time? Machines to take down, or killers to track?” he asks as he steps next to her, and his stupid quip is rewarded with the first genuine smile he’s seen on her face all day. “No machines except a few Glinthawks south of here, but they don’t worry me,” she points in the direction, but there’s just the side of the cliff. It takes him a second to realize that apparently, she can also see through mountains with her focus. “ There are some goose downstream however.” With that she draws her bow and skips over some rocks in the water. Within moments she is on the other side of the river and disappears into the tall grass, her red hair blending effortlessly with the color of the stalks. Erend shakes his head and turns around to the camp. With a pang of guilt he can see that Karan has already delegated all necessary tasks, and is now watching him. He takes a few steps to Erend’s side, and then looks over to the spot where Aloy has vanished. “She seems as capable as you have said.” “I have the feeling I’ve only seen a fraction of what she’s capable of,” he replies, and Karan gives him a look that makes him blush the faintest bit. Erend looks away. Because Karan is a bigger man then he, he let’s it go. “She seems uncomfortable.” Defensiveness raises the hairs on his back. “ Of course she’d be. She was outcast from her tribe her whole life, and alone most of the time afterward. A rowdy, loud group of Oseram would make her uncomfortable, that’s why I told them to behave.” Karan was silent for a moment, nodding slightly to himself.  “That… might be true. But a rowdy, loud group of Oseram who don’t talk to her might be even more uncomfortable for someone who was shunned her whole life.” Karan looks at him, his eyebrows the slightest bit raised, and Erend’s stomach sinks. He thinks of Karan asking her questions earlier, and the way Erend rewarded that with giving him an unnecessary task to occupy him. “Shit.” Karan chuckles and pats his shoulder, a gesture that feels undeserved. “ You tried.” “And failed,” Erend mumbles as Karan retreats back towards the rest of their group. His men are setting up the tents for the night, and after he has pitched his own, Aloy is still nowhere to be seen. She’s left her pack with them, so he gets started on hers in an effort to make up for it. Behind him, Beren and Enoch are talking about Aloy’s victory over the tramplers, and he decides he has to do something. “Listen lads… I think you can ease up on her now,” he starts, but as he sees Andrik’s eyes light up, he amends: “ A little. Don’t wanna give her culture shock now, do we? Doesn’t mean you can’t talk to her, though. Respectfully.” Karan gives him a small nod, but Erend knows he’s chickened out again. There’s rustling behind him and Aloy appears out of the brushes, carrying a bulk of Ridgewood and  two turkeys. As she starts to settle on the ground to pluck them, Oren makes his way over to her. “Let me handle those. You did the catchin’, I do the cookin’.”Oren is a big mountain of a man, huge even for Oseram standards, but ironically one of the gentlest of the Vanguard. At his low-pitched, rumbling request, Aloy hesitates for a second, always assessing and analyzing the situation, but then she smiles and hands them over. “Never been much of a cook myself, anyway.” “But an excellent huntress, I can see. Straight through the head.” “Can’t afford to waste the meat when you’re the only one feeding yourself.” “And good training for aiming at anything with even bigger heads.” She laughs then. “That, too.” As Oren sits down to take care of the birds, Aloy looks over to him and sees his progress on her tent. “You didn’t have to do that.” He shrugs nonchalantly. “Eh, had nothing better to do, and you were already making yourself useful, so I thought I should do the same.” Her face is hard to read, but she nods and touches his shoulder lightly before she takes the straps out of his hands. The spot on his arm stays warm for a long while. This rest is different then the first. Not exuberant— it can’t be, given the cause of their mission— and not fully comfortable yet, but not as awkward as the first. When the odd lull in conversation happens, it’s simply because they don’t know each other well enough yet. But this, finally, is something Erend is good at. Rambling, telling jokes, making people comfortable. So he does. Little stories about failed flirting attempts— none of them his stories, of course— or Vanguard mishaps, and soon he has her laughing, has all of them laughing. It doesn’t take them long to make short work of the two birds Oren has expertly prepared, and the sky  turns from red to purple to blue. Around them, the crickets start their songs, signaling the evenings arrival. “ I can take last watch, I don’t mind getting up early,” Karan offers, and Oren volunteers to join him. “I’m not tired yet, I’ll take first, then,” Aloy says. Across from him, he can see two devilish glints flash in Andrik and Beren’s eyes, albeit of a different kind. Before Andrik can speak up, Beren steps on his foot. “Andrik and I can take middle, he still has to finish telling me about this girl he’s met and her brother, who is apparently a very interesting prospect for one lonely Oseram Vanguard, warrior and hero. “ He pounds his chest with a laugh, and replaces it with the stupidest, most calculated look of fake pondering as he turns to his brother. “Enoch, you’re probably tired right? You haven’t marched this long in a while, with your busted foot.” Enoch, who had twisted his ankle months ago, makes no point of concealing his grin as he yawns deeply, and Erend’s scalp starts tingling. Bastards. “Brother, I am surprised I’m still awake right now. You know, I really need to go to bed. So sorry I can’t take a shift today.” “No no, we need you strong tomorrow. Cap’ can take the first shift, and then we’re all set up, right, Cap?” Steel to his bones, he’s going to strangle them. It doesn’t take long for them to disappear into their tents, and silence settles around the camp. Aloy busies herself with the Ridgewood she has gathered earlier and starts making arrows. Erend tends to the fire, trying to come up with something to say, but she beats him to it. “How are you doing?” Her eyes are on him, appraising.

“Haven’t had a drink in nearly a week, so could be better. It helps that I don’t have to mourn Ersa now, but the worry isn’t exactly

better.

”

“

You didn’t eat a lot.”

“Eh, I’ll eat better once we have her back, and once I can have an ale with it. Before that, my stomach is denying me its work.”

The scowl is back on her face. “Are you in pain?”

“Nah, just… queasy. Happens to the best of us, right?” The worried line between her eyebrows is back and he just can’t have that. “ It

does

happen to you, right?”, he quips, and Aloy rolls her eyes.

“Put some water on, I’ll be back in a second.”

Without further warning she slips away into the darkness, silent and swift like a Stalker. Because he has the feeling that protest is futile, he complies and puts on of the pots back on the fire, and fills it with water.  

Two minutes later, Aloy reappears silently next to him, some kind of dark purple root in her hands, dripping with water.

“Ochrebloom root. The tea will help your stomach.”

He watches her slip a small knife from a leather strap on her boot, using it to peel and slice the root before she puts it into two cups, a treacherous warmth spreading in his chest.

“Thank you,” he murmurs as she hands him the tea. Silence falls over them while they both sip carefully.

She stares into her cup, her thumb absentmindedly tracing its rim, and Erend feels guilty.

Time to man up, Erend.

[dark-t1des-hzd]

Oh my god this is just the cutest thing 😭😭😭

I love drawing them🥰