Hi everyone! How long has it been? Wait...don't answer that! :/ Now, if you're one of my treasured Scarlett readers, please don't fret. I've been finding writing hard for a while, life and all that, but I've been re-energised lately and my love of writing has started to come back. I've gotten caught up in Horizon Zero Dawn (if you've never played, lucky you! Now you get to go and experience it for the first time!) and I'm indulging in my love of inserting my own OC into an existing universe. I haven't forgotten about Scarlett, how could I? I just need a little time to reconnect with her place in her storyline. And I haven't forgotten about Irma either!

Anyway, if you haven't read my other works none of the previous will matter to you at all! I just hope you enjoy getting to know Bea.

Basically my thought was this...what if there was someone out there who was as smitten with Erend as other fanfics (and, lets be honest, the game itself) have him smitten with Aloy? Don't get me wrong, I ship Erend and Aloy so hard it hurts! But the guy is a certified hero and I think he is deserving of a little worshiping himself :)

Want hero worship that evolves into love? A ton of angst with just a little action thrown in for good measure? ALL the tropes? Follow me! *skips away*

Chapter 1

Quest: Cross the Sea of Sands

Bea lifted her eyes to the sky, squinting and raising a hand against the sun that was only just beginning to peek over the far horizon, before deftly pulling a loop of her scarf up over her head. The light, Carja made material had been shielding her from the majority of its brutal rays ever since they'd cleared the mountain ranges but, despite the care she'd taken, her travel mirror told her that a smattering of freckles had still sprung up across her nose and cheeks. She sighed, dropping her hand and lowering her gaze to the men just a few paces in front of her, grimacing as she took in their exposed shoulders and arms, still red and angry looking from the day before. Well, at least she hadn't actually been getting burned on this journey.

Up and down the caravan Oseram mercenaries, freebooters and workers alike, laboured in the morning heat, already beginning to broil like lobsters in their outfits of leather and steel as they heaved against the weight of the huge, heavily loaded carts. Those not taking their turn pulling cargo fanned out on either side of the road, weapons at the ready as they kept watch for any machines or bandits that could pose a threat to the precious loads. Abadund - the shard counter who was overseeing the funds for Hidden Ember - was paying them well to both ferry and protect the supplies that were on their way to the new settlement. She'd heard that any damage was to come directly out of Darold's purse and the grizzled mercenary who led the expedition wasn't likely to let that happen while he still had breath in his body.

Bea was the only traveller spared either duty. Instead she had spent the long journey from Meridian either sitting on the back of the cart that carried her belongings, watching the road slip by beneath her dangling feet, or walking alongside the laden wagons. They moved so slowly it was easy to keep pace with them and it had given her plenty of time to get to know her fellow travellers, of which there were many. Men and women, workers and merchants who'd been drawn to the opportunity of a fresh start building a new life atop the ruins of the Old Ones. In true Oseram fashion they were a kind, rowdy bunch who both drank and argued passionately. They also loved singing which she was grateful for as it had meant she had something to offer in the evenings when they broke camp for the night. She knew plenty of their folk songs thanks to her time in Meridian ale houses.

Ebla, perhaps feeling her gaze on him, looked up and she quickly smoothed out her expression into a smile. As soon as he caught her eye the corner of his mouth lifted in return, making his thick moustache twitch. "Comfortable there on your perch, little lark?" His deep voice carried easily over the sound of rumbling wheels and she marvelled at how he barely sounded out of breath. His bald head glistened with sweat, rivulets trickling down his temples and into his sideburns, the only sign that the heavy cart he pulled caused him any exertion.

Beside him Cortur adjusted his grip on his arm of the wagon, the tattoos on his thick biceps rippling over muscle, and tilted his head at her, "of course she is! We can't have Morlund's songbird getting calluses now, can we? However shall she play the domra for us tonight if her hands are tired from hard work?" He smirked at her and she rolled her eyes in return at their teasing, lightly jumping down from the back of the cart and slipping the hands in question into the pockets of her wide legged trousers. As the men drew level with her she turned and fell into step beside them, boots crunching over loose rock.

"Not far now," she said quietly, nodding off to the side of the road where shale was beginning to give way here and there to sandy patches, like puddles left after a storm had passed. Bea had never seen a true desert before and she'd been curious to lay eyes on it ever since Stemmur had described it to her in graphic detail. Great rolling mountains of sand stretching as far as the eye could see. Unbroken by rock or scrub, shimmering with heat during the day and glowing with the afternoon sunset in hues of yellow, pink and orange. At night he said it was breathtaking, the lights of the Old Ones filling the sky with dozens of exotic images in every colour of the rainbow. It sounded beautiful, if a little far-fetched…

Beside her Cortur grunted, pulling her from her thoughts. "Soon we shall see if the wordsmith's descriptions are forged true or fanciful." Bea cast him a look, for a moment thinking he'd read her mind. But of course he'd been recruited by the trio of showmen just like everyone else on this caravan. Between the three of them they were incredibly convincing, Morlund's enthusiastic vision of a new future and Abadund's promise of shards to be made were definitely tempting, but in her case it was Stemmurs turn of phrase when he described the Sea of Sands that had spoken to her, one artistic soul to another. She shook her head at herself, her mouth twisting in a wry smile. The old man could sell ice to the Banuk, she could learn a thing or two from him, that was for certain.

The toe of Bea's boot caught on a loose rock and she pulled her attention back to the road before her, not keen to take a tumble on the hard ground. Time passed and the heat of the day grew as morning wore on. Cortur and Ebla's light moods began to fade, their conversation eventually grinding to a halt in favour of tense concentration as they navigated the tapering path. It had been growing narrower and rougher since they'd left Camp Nowhere well before first light, few had travelled this way and it showed.

Underfoot the sand crept in like a slow tide, solid ground receding until it vanished completely and only a ribbon of churned up sand led the way south. At first Bea was awed by the changed landscape, even a little intimidated by the sheer, empty vastness opening up around her. But then her calves began to ache as she slogged her way over softened ground and her world shrank back to simply putting one foot in front of the other. She eyed the cart next to her longingly but didn't climb back on, not wanting to add any extra weight that might sink the wheels and cause the men pulling it any more hardship. Rumbling complaints and curses had begun to arise from the long line of Oseram, many of those walking guard had abandoned their watch to push the heavy carts from behind. Wheels and boots left deep gouges in the sand.

Finally, with the sun at its peak, Darold called a halt, sending word down the caravan that they would rest and wait out the worst of the heat. They had come to a lone ruin of the old world, a huge concrete structure that leaned drunkenly out of the sand. It towered far above them and as they entered its shade Bea shivered at the foreboding feeling that worked its way up her spine, half convinced that the ancient structure was seconds away from teetering over and crushing them all.

She pulled her gaze away, turning from the old building and instead moving to sit with her back resting against one of the cart wheels so she could look out over the dunes. She unwound her scarf, lifting her heavy hair from her neck and wiping at the sweat that trickled down her forehead before it could sting her eyes anew. A worker came past with a skin of water and she took it gratefully, sipping from it in between the deep breaths she took in an attempt to ease the tightness in her chest. She was unsure if the clenching feeling was from exertion or anxiety. Now that they were so close to the end of their expedition, unease was creeping in to make her doubt her decision. Had she made the correct choice, leaving everything behind to start anew in the middle of the desert?

Her gaze darted around the bleak, washed out landscape that shimmered and danced in the heat. Here and there in the far distance she could make out more blocky remains of the ruins of the Old Ones, crumbling brick and rusted metal so ancient and weathered that only stumps remained jutting up out of the sand. In the harsh midday sun it all looked bleached and barren, the bright light made her eyes water and the heat was something else entirely. Her head ached along with her limbs and she couldn't even begin to imagine how the rest of her fellow travellers were faring. It had already been a long, arduous journey. This last push through the desert was proving to be the most brutal leg of all.

When she glanced around she could see most of the Oseram were busy shedding their heavy leather, leaving them clothed in thin linen shirts and pants or, in many cases, bare chested. A few looked as though they'd been touched a little too heavily by the sun and she could see sunburns that were sure to blister by tomorrow. She frowned as she began undoing the laces on her boots, freeing her hot feet before learning her head back against the wheel and closing her eyes. Painted against the backs of her eyelids she could see the green, lush landscape of the Carja capital and could've almost convinced herself she was back in Meridian if it weren't for the dry heat that tightened her skin, so different to the mugginess of the jungle. Now that she was out of the sun and sitting still she could feel the faintest of breezes brushing over the exposed skin on her arms and upper chest. She pulled the cuffs of her pants further up her legs so that her shins could enjoy the feeling too and let herself get lost in the low murmuring and movements of the people around her.

It wasn't until she felt a firm hand on her shoulder that she realised she'd fallen asleep. She sat up slowly from where she'd slumped over, neck protesting stiffly, and blinked drowsily when her head swam. Moeen, a forgesmith with kind brown eyes, was crouched in front of her, her work toughened hand still grasping Bea's bicep as she peered at her with mild concern. "You feeling ok, songbird?" She brushed away the sand that clung to the younger woman's arm then gently helped her to stand. "Some have a touch of heatstroke."

"I'm ok," Bea smiled reassuringly, her dizziness passing quickly as she drank more water from the skin Moeen handed her. It was tepid but welcome as it soothed her dry throat. She passed the bladder back then bent to put her boots on.

"Darold is hopeful that we will reach Hidden Ember before nightfall if everyone helps with the carts." She sounded a little sceptical and Bea glanced at her before shifting her gaze towards the horizon. A few hours must have passed while she slept. Though the sun was still being blocked by the building they sheltered beneath, it was obvious that the light and heat of the day had eased a little, the sands spread out before them like waves on the ocean didn't seem to glare as harshly as before. All around her the Oseram were organising themselves along the long line of carts, taking up positions in front and behind as they readied to restart their journey. Quite a few had chosen not to put their heavy outer layers back on, only Darold's mercenaries seemed to be wearing their armour although they looked less than happy about it.

"Perhaps you'll be singing to us tonight while we eat our supper." Moeen squeezed her shoulder one last time then turned to go. Bea pulled her scarf back up, tucking her hair into it then arranging the thin layers about her shoulders before taking her place at the rear of the cart, determined to help as much as she could. She took a moment to run a critical eye over her collection of trunks and locked boxes, counting them quickly to make sure they were all accounted for. Then, when shouts of "Ho!" sounded from the front of the line, she gritted her teeth and pushed along with everyone else.

So, what did you think?

I'lll post the second chapter in a few days. I have six lined up and ready to go!