Chapter 4
If she thought she was physically exhausted the day before, it was her mind that suffered the wounds after the feast. She had a newfound respect for ale now, and saw its use to remove herself from a situation while still being in the center of it a boon she hadn't expected. With every mug, Avad's offer seemed less ridiculous. He was a good king. Would she be a good queen? She certainly wouldn't be expected to be confined to the palace, would she? These questions and more buzzed in her head all through the night, even while the partygoers began to drift away. Servants crept up to empty plates and clean the freshly abandoned place settings, and the music went from lively to something more subdued, a lament to those who lost their lives in the battle. Avad, ever composed, drank and ate lightly, but shared in the conversations and merriment around him. When he could, get attempted to involve Aloy, but didn't take long before realizing she would more rather listen than speak.
In reality, she longed for sleep. Perhaps she'd even do it intentionally this time. Erend was probably doing just that, she thought. He had the right idea. She was already getting used to Avad's hand on hers. His skin was like dry paper, but he had the callouses of a warrior. After all, he had led the siege against his father, the mad Sun King. He was a good king, she reminded herself. She imagined those dead leaf hands on her body and shuddered a little. Did… he expect that? Of course he does, she reprimanded herself. And if she didn't?
She chewed her lip, and Avad leaned in. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "I can have someone prepare a suite in the castle for you," he told her softly. "You look tired. Another bath can be drawn up. Please stay here, I assure you will be much more comfortable than at Olin's." His tone was measured, he was letting her know she wouldn't be bothered: by him or anyone.
No, no, no, Aloy's mind screamed. She just wanted to get out of there, away from everyone. She had to think. After all, there was a lot to think about. Carefully, she extricated her hand from beneath Avad's, but patted it to make the withdrawal seem less harsh. "My things are at Olin's. I would very much like to go back tonight," she admitted. "I must thank the healer who attended me." Surely she could come up with another excuse. After all, none of them were lies.
Avad's expression showed no surprise. "Very well," he sighed. "Please be careful on your way back. You're a very important woman, Aloy. I insist you bring a guard with…"
Quickly, Aloy waved him off, as well as the man who stepped curtly from his post behind the king. "No," she said flatly. "I feel fine. I just need some quiet right now." She didn't look back as she stepped out of the courtyard, because she knew she'd want to activate her Focus in the dark, and it was no longer part of her. She listened as she walked: no one followed. At least Avad respected her privacy, if not her choices.
Outside the gates, the air felt cooler, and she welcomed the darker streets. She measured that the night was half through, and so the revelers and mourners all had begun to slink home. The ones who still have them, she thought, remembering how many tents were needed to be erected for the citizens alone. The occasional campfires were still burning, and some of the Vanguard had not quite found their ways to bed. Aloy spied a few here and there among them, finishing up the stories (and drinks) they had started at the feast. She was glad Olin's place was in a more secluded part of town, so she wasn't surprised to see the frequency of small camps die out the farther she went. One camp, though, caught her eye. A lone figure sat beside it.
"Erend?" She was glad to see him. She hadn't realized it was his voice she'd missed among all the ones she'd been hearing all evening. His back was to her, but she knew he held a mug in his hands by the way he hunched over it. "Couldn't sleep?"
He barely turned to acknowledge her. "Figured you'd be staying in the palace," he said, almost tersely. He turned to look back to the fire, and she immediately knew something was wrong. She moved to settle next to him on the carved bench donated by one of the wealthier merchants for public use.
"You know I don't belong there," she told him, almost surprised at his assumption. "Avad'll understand. I need… quiet." She squinted her eyes at the fire, glad none of the warm fuzziness from the drinks had gone away. She could feel her injuries preparing to assault her senses at the first light. "It's just so loud."
"Yeah," came his thick voice, tinted slightly with the alcohol he was still drinking. She wondered how much he'd had. He reminded her of when she'd met him after Ersa's death. Only he'd been more glad to see her. She felt a twinge of loss. I needed his smile, she realized. It would have made things better.
A long silence came then, with the fire crackling merrily. She welcomed it, let it settle like snow among her thoughts. He spoke first. "He'll treat you right. Avad's a good man." She glanced at him, and saw his whole body shift as he sighed. He wore his armor, of course. Always ready. He'd cleaned up nicely, as she had, though a large bruise still lingered on the side of his head and one of his fingers was wrapped in a splint. His eyes were sunken… he must be as tired as she was.
"That's what he keeps telling me. I know he would. I just…" She reached up to finger a bead in her hair, only to remember she'd taken them out. Smooth, brushed red silk met her fingers, almost startling her. It'd been a while since it'd been clean, after all. She felt… lighter. "He says it's for the people. That they love me, and I could be the link to make peace between the tribes."
He looked at her then, a small smile pulling at one side of his lips. "Can't argue that. You're… well you're certainly something else." He takes a pull from his mug, seemingly to stifle any other words he'd thought to say.
"Something else," she scoffed. "You're right. I am. Not a Nora, not a Carja. Definitely not an Oseram. Doubt even the Banuk would have me at this rate. How can someone who isn't a part of anyone unite everyone?"
Erend seemed to wince. "That's not what I meant, Aloy," he replies. "You're…" Scratching at his chin, he looked frustrated. "Look, I know you haven't spent a lot of time with a bunch of people. I get it. You like your space. Perhaps Avad'll let you have it but… trust me when I tell you this…" He looked at her again, studying her face in the firelight. "Queen? You're gonna hate the paperwork."
The joke made her laugh, suddenly, stunning her out of her mood. "And you? Mister General? You've got some paperwork of your own."
His smile suddenly turned to a frown. "I'm not taking the job."
She blinked at him, sure she misheard. "What?"
He drained the rest of his mug. "I'm leavin'. Headed home, I guess. Maybe I'll run into Olin. Get some closure with him.
The idea of being at the palace without him hit her like a snakebite, and left her a little breathless. "What do you mean, leaving? You can't leave," is all she thought to say. She heard her voice raise a little. He couldn't just leave her now, with Avad. "You love Meridian."
Her words seemed to sting him more deeply than she'd intended. He stood up sharply. "Don't tell me what I love, girl," he hissed. "You're not queen yet."
Though his back was to her, his tone took her unawares. Suddenly, she was an enemy. She was a bandit who had an Oseram Vanguard angry with her, and that was very dangerous. She was suddenly acutely aware of her lack of armor, and her muscles tensed. She shot up like a rocket, her hands gripped into fists. "And when I am, I'll send every soldier I have after you to bring your mopey ass back here, so don't you "girl" me!" She hissed through her clenched teeth.
Erend turned to square himself against her anger, but it wasn't reflected on his face. His hands hung limply at his sides. His expression was only sorrow. "I can't stay here," he said with finality. "Not with you so close but locked up in a palace with… the Sun King."
Slowly, she lowered her hands, baffled. "You… could visit whenever you wanted," she told him. "I could see you every day if you wanted."
Exasperation filled his voice. "Aloy," he pleaded, reaching out to take her slightly raised fists. His hands enclosed them completely. The metal splint on his finger was hot from the fire. "I don't think you know what you've agreed to."
Now she was getting frustrated. She wished he'd just say what was wrong. She missed his smile, the way he squeezed her shoulder. His hands on hers felt like that: comforting. "Tell me," she pleaded. "I don't know… why you're upset. I want you to stay here with me and Avad." With me, she corrected herself. Fuck Avad.
He released her hand, reaching out to finger a lock of her hair. "You changed it," he observed, ignoring her plea. "Your hair is so… beautiful. Never cut it." His voice was still heavy with ale, and this close, she could smell it on his breath. She watched him carefully. Was he just a moody drunk? She wondered.
"You need sleep," she observed. "I need sleep. We've had… a little too much…" She began to trail off. His hand hadn't left her hair. She sort of wished he wasn't wearing gloves. She became acutely aware that it wasn't heat from the fire she was feeling, but the heat from him. "To… " The lips that pressed against hers were much softer than she'd imagined. She didn't know what to do, so she froze. He didn't seem to notice, and continued to drink her in as if she were the best ale he'd ever tasted, using his gentle grip to crush her mouth to his. Never in her life had she been this close to another person. She'd seen interactions of others plenty of times, but never thought it looked enjoyable. She was so wrong.
Carefully, she pressed up to her toes, wanting more but not sure how to get it. Her hands came up to his chest, finding rings of steel there from his armor. It wasn't all armor, she could sense from the heat that even his chest was hard and dense, the chest of a fighter. She wondered how the rest of him felt. How he looked without his armor on. She'd never imagined such thing would go through her mind.
Her response seemed to startle him, and he pulled back suddenly, but not far. His breath brushed her lips as he spoke. "I don't need sleep," he boasted. "I need you."
She needed air. Her hands on his chest gave her leverage to arch back, her eyes half closed. She felt more drunk than she ever had with the ale. She could feel his grip tighten as she moved away, possessively, then release her. She had to gasp the cool night air, letting it clear the fuzz like static from her mind. She didn't know what to say, folding her arms over herself in a hug. Suddenly, she was cold.
"That's why," Erend told her, his head lowered and his eyes watching her, dazed, from beneath his brows. "That's why." He threw his wooden mug into the fire and turned, treading silently off into the darkness.