Aloy stared up at the gilded ceiling beams. Her eyes unfocused as the painted wood glimmered in the flickering firelight.
She'd been perfectly content to sleep in the stables of an old inn just outside town. Then the sun-king found out. Now she'd been stuck here—the royal guest quarters—at Avad's insistence.
She hated it. Every beautiful, intricately-carved timber, every fine tapestry, every feather-soft linen and steaming hot bath laden with fragrant petals. Awful.
But cursed-mother, it was so comfortable. That made her hate it even more.
Aloy shifted up the cushioned bed toward the headboard—an iconic sun-blazoned design sculpted from jungle timber, dark as mud. It was a dense wood, and would have been a very difficult undertaking for whoever carved it.
Her head sunk into the feather-stuffed pillow and she let out a deep breath. Maybe, just for now, she'd let herself appreciate the comforts.
She'd just returned from Mother's Heart. From All-Mother or Eleuthia or whatever you wanted to call it. And her mind still spun from everything she'd learned. She'd final found out where she'd come from, which was all she'd wanted all along. But instead of a sense of fulfillment or accomplishment, she just felt hollow.
It was stupid—ridiculous, in fact—to grieve someone that never existed. But the logic of it didn't change anything. It wasn't nearly as painful as losing Rost, but it was just as real.
And nicely ironic. She was born of a metal womb. Born to a machine. Perfect.
She'd only gone to find out where she'd come from, or that's what she'd told herself. She had to kill the cultists and destroy the Machines to clear herself safe passage to All-Mother. If that involved saving the Nora, then so be it. A coincidence.
But deep down she knew she'd done it for Rost. The Nora were always his people, even if they were never hers. She'd never cared before, she'd always hated them. But now that Rost was gone, how she'd treated him, how she'd spurned his beliefs…the guilt was killing her. Why couldn't she have accepted their laws, like he wanted? She'd been a petulant, disrespectful child, and Rost had deserved better.
So she'd gone to help the Nora to try and make up for it. But too many braves had died, and she knew it was too little too late.
She supposed she'd be getting what she wanted, then. She'd have no true allies, belong to no people. She'd be an outcast not just of the Nora, but the world.
A knock echoed through the chambers and she sat up straight, spear gripped in one white-knuckled hand. She held her breath and waited.
Three more soft thuds.
She took a breath to steady her racing heart and stood up. She stalked across the room and leaned against the door.
"Aloy?" came a muffled voice.
It was…Erend?
The heavy wooden door creaked as she pulled it open a sliver and peeked out.
It really was Erend. Erend in full armor, Erend with his war maul strapped to his back. Erend with three armor-clad Vanguards standing behind him at the very end of the hall, talking amongst themselves.
She hadn't seen him in months, since he'd returned to the Claim to force Dervahl to face judgment…and to bury his sister.
He looked different in a way Aloy couldn't put her finger on. Dark bags hung under his ice-blue eyes, but his cheeks were flushed and the band of hair along the top of his head was windswept. He looked as if he'd just stepped off horseback after weeks of travel. He seemed more tired than she remembered, but at the same time, lighter. Less burdened.
Erend rocked back on his heels while he tugged at the looped ring in his right ear. "Aloy."
"Erend. You're…here."
He scratched the back of his neck. "Yeah…"
She pulled the door open the rest of the way. "Why?"
"Well, I, uh, heard about the Nora…the attack. But I just heard…it sounds like you already took care of it." He scoffed a small laugh and shook his head. "I shoulda known you wouldn't need help."
Aloy opened her mouth but was briefly at a loss for words. She cleared her throat. "So, you came, and brought these men…to fight with me?" she asked, skepticism edging her tone.
"It was just going to be me, but then the guys volunteered." He flashed a stilted grin. "But who needs an army when you're Aloy, right?"
Aloy narrowed her eyes. He'd said help. No one ever helped. Except Nil, but…that was something else entirely. "No one wants to help," she mumbled to herself.
Erend raised a thick eyebrow. "Uh, what?"
She shook her head. "I…don't know what to say. Thank you."
"'Course," he said with a shrug. "I owe you, after all."
"You don't owe me anything."
His eyes fell to the worn floorboards and he crossed his arms. "Right, I, uh…"
Aloy sighed. Cursed-mother, she'd done it again.
Rost had more than prepared her for the physical dangers of the outside world. But he'd said nothing of the social order, of what was "proper" or "expected." It was a whole different kind of hunt, one she found herself losing ground with every day.
She took a deep breath and thought about what Vanasha would say.
After they'd returned weeks ago from rescuing Prince Itamen—and Vanasha had gotten over her initial amusement at Aloy's "unmatched ability to be terribly blunt"—the handmaiden-turned-spy had sat her down and tried to help. Tried to teach her about "hospitality" and "the social treatise," now that she was going to live outside the Embrace.
But in all honesty, Aloy had been having trouble finding a way to care. She'd grown up an outcast in more than name, and she could count the number of meaningful interactions she'd had with people other than Rost on one hand. And no one had treated her with the respect she was now expected to demonstrate.
But the crestfallen look on Erend's face, and the heavy air that now hung between them, caused Aloy to second-guess her disregard. Not everyone—certainly not everyone—but at least some people, might deserve the effort.
"What I mean is," Aloy began carefully, "helping you find Ersa…I don't expect anything in return. It's not a trade. That's all I mean."
"Right," he said, scratching the back of his neck. "'Course." But his eyes remained focused on the floor.
She bit her lip and tried to figure out what was supposed to come next. She felt it would be considered polite to invite him inside, but something felt wrong about that. Vanasha would say it'd be too "forward." She needed to find neutral ground, level territory.
"Erend?"
He finally looked up at her. "Yeah?"
"Are you hungry?"
His teeth flashed in a smile. "Constantly."