#from one of the highest towers but I had arrows so I wasn't even climbing any of the towers without a cage anyway)

[bowithoutadaemon]

I have started another big build project in the End dimension. A big bridge to connect the end gateways (literally no idea why I felt the need to go kill the dragon 20 times for the gateways since I don't see the point in wandering around the End but idk I did it anyway).

Which has me wondering why I find it so much easier and relaxing to do those. Which made me realise the big differences between these ones and all the ones I kinda sorta wanna do but feel overwhelmed by over in the overworld.

They are all pretty horizontal/flat. They don't need to blend into the environment because they are either in the void or, well, on the fucking end island which is just a yellow blob basically. No roofs.

No idea what to do with this realization but I just had it and it was keeping me from sleeping.

[genesisarclite]

A Fair Battlefield, pt. I

Well, here it is: my fix-fic/answer to the Yarra vs. Drakka questline in Forbidden West. I was expecting and hoping for a different outcome than we got, or even the option of one, so... here we go.

Originally meant to be one part/chapter. Then it exceeded 7k words and it wasn't stopping. So... if you guys like this enough, I'll post the next part, which hopefully won't turn into two more parts. Hopefully. Unless my dear readers come after me with pleading and pitchforks, in which case I guess I can write the third part that would take place from Yarra's POV.

This is very, very, very self-indulgent. Enjoy.

*chucks this out and hides*

01 A Fractured Arrow

The desert sands still trapped the heat of the day, the sun was beginning to sink toward the horizon, and from across the settlement, Aloy could hear the shouting.

She was halfway across the pit of the settlement after examining the Wound in the Sand, so she stopped and looked up at the commander’s quarters. There were only two voices – the exact two that she both expected, and dreaded. The guards at the Wound had told her she was needed there, and she could see why.

She grimaced. This wasn’t going to end well.

As she climbed the sloping bridges that zigzagged to the upper levels, the shouting became louder, and now more than one Tenakth had begun to pay attention. The rattle of armor quickened her stride; she made the ascent in record time, skipping the last few feet by climbing to the highest level, and ran into the tent.

It was much cooler here, the breeze coming in through the sides chasing the heat away. The two Desert Clan warriors were nearly in each other’s faces, fists clenched and shoulders tight. They seemed remarkably restrained all the same, which surprised her until she reminded herself that they were the same clan. After all, tearing skin painted with the same array of colors would hardly be professional.

Aloy wasted no time marching up to them. “Ah, excuse me, what is this?”

“Aloy?” Drakka faced her, some of the tension fading. Relief colored his features. He towered over Yarra and dwarfed her in size, but his movements lacked the angry sharpness of hers. “Glad you showed up. Can you– look, she tried to claim I sabotaged the Wound. You know, the thing that gives us water?” He spread his arms. “All of us water?

Aloy stifled a grunt at the sheer pettiness of it all.

But before she could say a word, Yarra very nearly shouldered her out of the way. “The Wound runs dry and then we find one of your men in the desert? The source of Wound damaged?” She scoffed. “Why wouldn’t I believe that you did that just to make an excuse to usurp me?”

“I didn’t know it was a source!” Drakka whirled on her. “There was no sabotage. Our scouts indicated they had found water we could use while the Wound began to run dry! Whatever damage was done was not something I asked Ukktah to do!” He took a quick, steadying breath, and when next he spoke, his voice had dropped. “You didn’t tell anyone anything was wrong and covered it up. What was anyone supposed to do?”

Her eyes flashed. “Wait for me. You were supposed to do as I asked and–”

“And dry up in the sun.” Drakka grinned, but it lacked even a semblance of humor. “Arrowhand was coughing dust and shriveling more and more as the days passed. The sandstorms were stripping the land. We were left to collect dew, and even that the desert stole.” The grin faded. “Your pride–”

“Enough. This isn’t about you.” Yarra squared her shoulders. “The Wound is refilling now. It will take weeks to return to its normal levels, but I will bring what I can to Arrowhand.”

The silence that fell after her words lasted mere moments, but it felt heavy as a Thunderjaw. “And… that’s it?” Drakka stared at her in open disbelief. “After nearly getting everyone–”

“It’s fixed now, isn’t it? You will n–”

“Excuses. Always with you are excuses.” He spat on the ground. “Leadership requires more than scrambling to patch over mistakes that might have cost lives, and I’m done with yours. Consider this a challenge.”

For the briefest of moments, Yarra looked distraught… but then she mimicked his gesture, and Aloy felt something settle in the pit of her stomach. “You will meet us at the Gate of the Vanquished at the morning’s light,” she said, her voice thick with venom. “Only blood will end this matter, and it’ll be yours.”

Again fell the silence, before Drakka stormed past her and out of the tent.

Aloy opened and closed her mouth.

Then Yarra shouted, “Leave me!” And with that, the other guards, after only quick glances at one another, scrambled out of the tent and dropped the flaps to the main entrance behind them. The moment they were alone, the other woman whirled and kicked a spear sitting upright, sending it crashing to the wooden floor. Her chest heaved; Aloy stayed rooted to the spot, not sure what to do.

The only other who remained was Jetakka, who looked at her.

Yarra muttered, “Not what I wanted to happen. My leadership is all that keeps this place from falling apart. Handing it over to him…” Her hands balled into fists, and she shut her eyes tight. One deep breath later, and she was all business once more. “I need to prepare. Leave me, now.”

Aloy studied her for a moment. Though Yarra was certainly younger than Jetakka, she was still older than herself and probably at least a little older than Drakka in turn – or, at least, much more weathered. Evidence of a harsh and difficult life was etched out on her features.

Yarra was extremely high-strung, something that stood out to her even in the short time they had known each other. Either she had legitimate reason to think someone was going to take her command… or she was incredibly paranoid.

Jetakka stepped forward, hands out in supplication. “You’re not actually doing this.”

Yarra looked at him as though he had grown a second head. “I said leave me. Your counsel is no longer needed.” Fire flickered in her eyes. “Or wanted.”

Jetakka looked hopelessly at her for a few seconds before turning away, leading Aloy back out in the heat.

Aloy glanced back. “What’s going on, exactly?”

“Those two are challenging each other for the right to lead the Desert Clan. They will face one another on an ancient battleground, and whoever survives, the followers of the dead will be hunted down and slaughtered.” His grim expression made her skin prickle. “The desert will run red. You have to stop them. We have to.”

She rubbed her forehead. “They aren’t exactly listening, Jetakka. They’re both too stubborn.”

“And both would make excellent commanders, in their own ways. That is what makes this so dangerous. If we don’t stop them from destroying one another, it will be the end of the Desert Clan.”

“And…” She gritted her teeth. “...they don’t care.” It was so petty. In the grand scope of things, against the backdrop of the world ending again, the squabble of two people who couldn’t swallow their pride seemed little more than a forgotten ember in a pyre. “They’re gonna get a lot of people killed, and they don’t care.”

“There’s always more to the story, Aloy,” he said, and his gentle tone cooled her a bit. “You’ve gotten to know them a little, but I’ve known them for years. They have both always been…” He raised an eyebrow. “...difficult, and working together was always going to be a challenge. For now, I will travel to Gate and try to stall them, but you must come quickly, or those two– those– those idiots are going to be end of us!”

When he started to move away, she reached out with a hand to stop him. “Wait,” she said, “you saying there’s a reason this is what finally ended up being the last straw?”

“I’m sure there is,” he muttered. “Like I said, they’re both hardheaded. Now, we need to go.”

Her hand moved to his forearm, fingers wrapping around tight. “There’s something you’re not telling me, Jetakka. It’s not like I can’t tell, so... please.” She sidestepped enough to meet his eyes.

The chaplain looked at her. It seemed almost… helpless, somehow. Behind the veteran-warrior mask, stretched over his features by years of discipline, she saw a man as tired as so many others. So many Tenakth were scarred by the wars before Hekarro. In being kept safe within the Embrace for almost two decades of her life, she had been sheltered from some of the very worst the world had to offer.

Something pricked at her eyes. No matter what she did, it could never undo the past.

“It was common for mothers and fathers alike to be slain.” He spoke without emotion, but his words were thick, as though they struggled to come out. “Some were killed in war, some defending their homes, some… in raids that razed settlements and fields alike. The air always stank of blood. There are still bones bleached by the sun, swallowed by the desert. So it was with Yarra and Drakka. She’s only two years older. She lost her mother to a raid and her father to grief. Drakka can’t remember his parents at all.”

Aloy felt her grip loosen before her hand dropped away.

“Like many children in the Desert Clan, all they had was each other. Because Yarra was older, she tried to be stronger for the others. She was their shield.” The breeze stirred the tent fabric again; her nostrils drew in the scent of sun-baked earth. “In time, she became an accomplished warrior, and after that, commander. The commander.” He looked past her now, into years she couldn’t fathom. “And she stood alone.”

More rustling of fabric. Aloy stroked a portion of her braids in one hand, trying to think of how to respond. So, the pain of war went deeper. “Drakka used to be her friend.”

His eyes stayed in the past. “They were good and close friends for some years. They grew up together and stuck close even when they finally made their home in Scalding Spear, and he seemed to be set to become her second, and then…” He breathed deep. “One day, she sent him back to Arrowhand and never recalled him. Never spoke to him again.”

“But… if they were good friends, why send him so far away? Or did she just believe in him that much?” She blinked. “Why never talk again?”

Jetakka refocused on the present and gave her a thin smile. “Think about what you’ve seen. Do you really believe she just happened to believe in him that much?”

She pursed her lips. “Fair point.”

“So, I ask you, what do you think happened between them?”

Her head tipped first one way, then the other. “I think he got up in her face, or annoyed her too much, or just… I don’t know, pushed his luck? Hard to say for sure.” Letting her expression soften, she half-smiled and looked over her shoulder. “For such close friends to come to blows… deadly blows...”

Jetakka sighed quietly. “Her judgment is clouded. He’s a weak spot in her armor, and she knows it.

Her gaze slowly returned. “No,” she murmured, “they were more than just friends, weren’t they?”

The chaplain raised his brows a moment. When he spoke again, he seemed amused. “The Tenakth value strength and resilience, barely laying it aside even for the sake of lovers and friends. Our courtship rituals and family life…” He chuckled. “The word ‘love’ has meaning here, but it’s hard to grasp sometimes. No matter what form it takes, we still see it as ‘weakness’. And for Yarra, she thinks it means death. The reasons are buried in the past, but for her, they are very real, and taunt her constantly.”

“Even now?” Distantly, she heard the sound of armor banging together and the commander gathering warriors to her. They would be marching out before the sun had finished setting, then. “After Hekarro?”

“That’s just how it is.”

Again, she thought of the world-ending threats floating beyond the horizon, the hundreds of miles she would have to cross to finish her task, and felt another bit of her patience fade. “Hekarro wouldn’t want them to do this,” she said firmly. “He has done everything he can to keep Tenakth from killing each other.”

“But not even he can interfere,” Jetakka said. “That is our way.”

She stopped herself from saying something disrespectful. Diplomacy matters, she reminded herself. “Look, I’m not even part of the tribe. I might be… respected… among your people, but I’m an outsider. They won’t listen to me, Jetakka. I can’t do anything to help.” Bitterness seeped into her, accompanied by exhaustion. Maybe someday there could be a world where the tribes didn’t squabble, but it was far in the future. “This isn’t my war.”

“Your word carries weight. You helped Hekarro unit the Sky Clan with the others and reopened the Arena. We know the work you’ve been doing has somehow helped clear the Blight. The storms have stopped. Tribes are speaking to each other in ways no one has seen before.” A note of desperation entered his voice. “You have to try.”

Aloy sucked in a breath – a long, deep, fill-the-lungs-until-they-hurt breath – and exhaled slowly. The two warriors seemed too far gone to her. She doubted a few words would stop a paranoid commander and angry warrior from coming to blows. But if she stood by and did nothing at all…

For a moment, she closed her eyes. If she didn’t do anything, she would have to lay down at night and have the image of Desert Clan corpses dancing across her dreams.

“Jetakka,” she said quietly, “I’ve never seen anyone as wound up as Yarra. She’s gonna snap like a bowstring if someone looks at her wrong. Why would she be like this with him, if they were friends and… more?”

“Yarra has been alone for years and flinching at every shadow. Drakka has carried as many years of hurt… and bitterness.”

No part of this made sense to her, really. Though she had gained a lot of understanding of relationships and the forms they took in her travels, she still felt like an outsider to it. Whatever had set these two against each other, she doubted they were going to give that information to her anytime soon.

“What,” she said, “did she toss him aside because she thought he’d slow her down?” A pause, then, “Was she afraid that he would be something that could be used against her?”

“That, I can’t be too sure of.” He shook his head. “Yarra keeps her feelings tight to the chest. Whatever is actually going on in that head of hers, I was never privy to it. What I do know is that they’ve spent years being stubborn, but it stopped being tolerable when they were old enough to become part of a squad.”

“I don’t have a lot of experience with this kind of thing,” she admitted, “but I’ll do what I can. I’ll meet you at the Gate of the Vanquished. Stall them as long as you can. Please.”

Jetakka nodded. “Come as quickly as you can. The Tenakth cannot have another war.” And with that, he turned and hurried down the ramps – as quickly as his time-wearied bones could take him, she saw – toward Yarra, leaving Aloy overlooking the city and wondering if she really could do anything at all.

-

By the time Aloy caught up with the others, miles south of Scalding Spear, the sky had darkened and all the soldiers were in position. As she dismounted her Clawstrider out of view, she could already hear the shouting. Her jaw tightened until it hurt, and she ascended the rocky hill to the assembly area.

“Please, at least wait until Aloy arrives!” Jetakka was saying as she crested the rise.

As she approached, Aloy decided that, for now, she would keep what she knew to herself. It probably wasn’t a good idea to reopen old wounds when they were ready to flay each other open. “Alright, come on, let’s not do this.” She raised her hands and moved to stand beside Jetakka, patting the air slightly. “Don’t you think this has gone too far?”

The response was “never” and “not a chance”, and her shoulders slouched.

“All he’s ever wanted is a shot at my position,” the commander said. “From the days when we were children, he dreamed of being commander.” Again, she took a steadying breath, then said, more quietly, “I sent him away three years ago, back to Arrowhand where he was born and raised. Why do you think I did that, hmm? He’s clever and desperate. He sabotaged the Wound to get at me.”

Aloy couldn’t stop herself. “Not everything’s about you, Yarra,” she said sharply. “If you pursue this, people will die. They will die. Just let it go. Maybe give him a chance.”

“No, I’m the tie that binds this Clan together. He would raze everything I built to the ground!”

Aloy looked at Drakka. “So why can’t you let this go?”

He shrugged. “She can’t be left in command. It’s that simple. She would rather…” His hands became fists. “...let people die of thirst than admit something was wrong, or accept help. We had to go behind her back to try and fix this! It shouldn't have come to that!” His lips peeled back from his teeth. “A good commander wouldn’t let her people suffer.”

Aloy stepped back again, looking between the two – Yarra, clad in heavy armor, her exposed skin tanned and scarred from a life toiling in warfare under the sun, and Drakka, in lighter armor but bigger and at least as strong. She knew they were both capable warriors. Both stubborn. Both able to turn the sands into a slurry of blood and hate. She knew better than to doubt the outcome of any fight.

But the longer she stood there, the more the doubts crept into her mind. She thought of everything she had seen, the pointlessness of ancient feuds, loved ones stolen away, the world under threat, the hollow eyes of the Zero Dawn Alphas as they toiled without pause to save the world. In the shadow of a thousand things, this seemed more than pointless. It seemed ridiculous. It was silly.

She thought of Zo, standing before the Chorus, strong as stone.

And she thought of all the loves that had ended in sadness, of how she had slowly started to grasp some semblance of understanding, all the stories of tears and blood and sleepless nights, and felt her chest tighten.

There had to be another way.

“You know what… no. No, no, we’re not doing this.” She spoke without thinking as she stepped between them, hands out, blocking them from coming to blows. Though she doubted she could do much on her own, it would at least act as an immediate barrier to them going at each other’s throats. For a few seconds, anyway. “This is ridiculous. You two seriously need to get a grip. A lot of people are going to die if you do this.”

Something heavy collided with her back; she collapsed face-first into the gravel, all the wind rushing out of her. A shout rose from the assembled ranks.

Aloy spat out grit and scrambled to her feet, but a spasm in her back nearly brought her right back down. As she spun to face the two warriors, she found them face to face, weapons raised, and the followers rising to their feet, beating their weapons on the stone. The thundering sound made her head hurt, but she shook it away.

She loosed her spear and dove between them, crashing onto her knees when the weapons collided with hers. Bracing under the impact took all her strength, and it sent more spasms through her back.

Fighting through the pain, she slung the butt of her spear around, knocking Yarra to the side, then continued with the existing impetus to do the same to Drakka. Both nearly fell to the ground completely, so she launched herself at Drakka, calling out for Jetakka as she did, and together, they pinned both in place.

With a flick of the wrist, she flipped her spear, the blade now mere inches from the man’s neck.

“Now, then, let’s try this one more time.” When he started to rise, she pushed him back down and just barely scraped the edge of the blade against the skin. “You’re gonna behave, and you’re not gonna kill each other. You’ve clearly got more issues than just who leads, so how about you figure that out, and then we’ll all try talking again?”

Again, he tried to sit up, and again, she pushed him back down.

“You’re not serious?” Yarra said behind her. “You’re not?” A pause, then, “You are? How can you even consider having us try to talk things out? That is not the Desert Clan way! That is not–”

Aloy, patience gone, snarled, “It’s Hekarro’s way!”

Drakka snorted. “Hekarro didn’t kill his champion when he had the chance, and now she’s terrorizing the tribes. How about you think about that?”

She smacked him with her spear. “Hey! Hush! The adults are talking.”

“Adults? I am the comm–” Whack.

After a few heartbeats of silence, Aloy finally said, “Alright, one more time. You need to come up with a better solution. Go talk, go punch each other, but don’t kill each other, okay?”

“There’s a tent over there, just outside the wall.” Jetakka spoke very calmly; she looked back to see Yarra pinned beneath him. With enough effort, she could probably break free, but she just lay there, glaring between the two of them. “They can go there and be alone. No one has to die today.”

“The command tent? Yeah. Good idea.” Aloy looked back at Drakka. “It’s a good idea, isn’t it?”

Though he scowled up at her, much of the anger had dropped away. “Worth a try. She’s not a complete moron.” He snorted, softer this time. “I know that much.”

“Because you knew her long ago,” Aloy said gently, “years ago, when you were kids, and friends, and eventually, in time… more than that. You remember, don’t you?”

His eyes snapped to hers, and he said nothing.

Certain he wouldn’t try anything, she lowered her spear, straightened, and stepped back. Drakka climbed to his feet and slapped the armor to get the dust off, but made no move to close the gap again. She tensed when he picked up his fallen weapon, but all he did was stow it away.

Satisfied, Aloy let her spear dangle at her side and looked at Yarra. She was sitting up now, looking angry as a Rockbreaker, but at least no longer ready to leap for anyone’s throat.

“Fine. We’ll do it your–” Yarra snorted as she climbed to her feet. “Hekarro’s way. We’ll talk, and only talk. I’m sure there’s a lot we can discuss.” She raised her chin. “And if it comes down to it… I’ll remove his head.”

“No.” Aloy stepped between them. “Weapons get left here.”

Yarra’s mouth fell open.

Aloy stood firm. “You’ll kill each other in creative ways if it comes to it, but no severed heads, okay?” She held out a hand. “Weapon, please. It stays here with us.” When Yarra still didn’t move, she raised one eyebrow and tilted her head. “Oh, don’t worry, it won’t get ‘misplaced’ or anything. You can have it back, if you both behave.”

Yarra mumbled something she didn’t catch, but complied.

After a moment, Drakka’s weapon also hit the ground with a thump. The two warriors looked at each other, and Aloy felt, for a moment, that she was trespassing.

But the moment passed, and Yarra marched past them toward the outer wall. Drakka only hesitated a moment before he fell in step behind her, giving Aloy a quick look as he passed. Ever so slightly, his shoulders raised, along with his eyebrows, before he scrambled to keep up with her.

Aloy considered raising her bow – just in case – but thought better of it. It wasn’t necessary. They would probably still end up hurting each other, but as long as they didn’t kill each other or get others killed, it was a start. Even if nothing changed, even if Drakka got booted into the desert, at least it wasn’t going to start a war. Probably.

Part of her didn’t care, as long as others didn’t have to suffer.

She thought of Elisabet, calculating billions of lives against countless future generations. Choosing the lesser of two evils was hardly ideal. Yet, if she was right, she didn’t have to worry at all.

Aloy looked at Jetakka, who wore an expression of wary relief. “That’s better than I could’ve hoped, Aloy,” he said with a nod. “You helped. I knew you would. They can’t do much against our might, now, can they?” He turned to the assembled loyalists, some of whom now removed their masks and looked disappointed. “I want two guards watching the tent, but not too close. Give them their privacy. The rest of you, head back to Scalding Spear.”

One of the younger men groaned. “But that’s so far.”

“You’ll be fine.” Jetakka moved down the slope, shooing the others away, and began setting up camp. While most of the two squads wandered back toward the settlement, a couple remained behind and also set up camp. Aloy waded into the group to create her own separate sleeping area, slightly away from the others.

By the time they finished, the heat was gone, and the night creatures had struck up a loud chorus.

Aloy curled up on her cot, facing the tent – barely seeing a fire lit behind thick, pale cloth, a curl of smoke rising into the sky – and fell asleep within minutes.