Holding court today had turned out to be a nightmare.

The destruction of the two elevators connecting the main mesa of Meridian to the village below had slowed the reconstruction effort considerably. The townsmen living in the harbor and the farmlands were starting to go low on supplies, and the scarcity of drinking water had caused a sickness to spread through their midst. Prices had hiked up since the Eclipse's attack on the capital, keeping all but the lucky few of the elite in a tight chokehold. Avad had argued and argued with the representatives of the merchant's guilds, but they had been inflexible, quoting the difficulty of acquiring goods in the chaos that had raged over the past months.

Usually, Avad had little patience for that sort of reasoning, and today… well, today, their slimy posturing had finally tipped him over the edge.

It had all started when an argument erupted between his members of his council and the heads of the guild. At first, Avad had remained quiet in the face of the merchants' blatant dishonesty, drumming his fingers on the exquisitely carved armrest of his chair. But then, before he could even process what was happening, he had found himself all but jumping from his seat, ranting and raving. All the men present in the meeting room had promptly ceased their bickering, reeling back from the violence of Avad's outburst.

Still, that anger had been fleeting; soon, Avad's face had gone crimson, not with fury but with shame. After dismissing the royal council, he'd scrambled back to his bedchambers, heart pounding madly in his chest. Along the way, Avad had chanced upon his little brother, the sound of his shouts having drawn Itamen out of his daily lesson. The two siblings had only exchanged the briefest of glances as Avad rushed by, stumbling on his feet in a graceless manner unbecoming for one of his station.

When he was finally alone in the safety of his room, Avad sank down in his bed, burying his face in his hands. The hint of fright he'd spied on Itamen's features was familiar to Avad, disturbingly so. It brought to mind another little boy who had often found himself facing an older relative's sudden and inexplicable bouts of rage. Avad inhaled and exhaled deeply to will those memories away. To no avail; his brain had turned into a jangled mess, thoughts spinning and spinning. Once again, it seemed as if Avad was caught in a rising tide, one that threatened to drag him to dark, unknown depths. Despite all of his efforts, his breathing grew ragged. His hands were shaking, his head seemed ready to split open, his mouth had gone dry, so dry—

In-between his fingers, Avad suddenly spied an unopened bottle of fruit wine on a small table by the window. His stomach lurched as he lifted himself off the bed, staggering forward. He took one, two, even three steps toward his quarry. Soon, the bottle was nearly within reach. Still, for a reason Avad could not name, he came to a halt. With stiff, mechanical movements, he turned on his heel, his legs instead bringing him to the door, almost out of their own accord. The guard posted outside his room could not hide his frown as he noticed the king clumsily approaching him. Still, Avad managed to muster a bit of his usual dignity back as he addressed the man, asking him to seek Erend.

Avad was sitting by the table, contemplating the empty cup in his hands, when his friend arrived. The king greeted him with a wavering smile, but Erend only furrowed his brows in response.

"What happened?" were the first words that came out of his mouth. "I came as fast as I could."

"Nothing happened," answered Avad. "I merely wished to take a break. I figured you would have felt the same."

Erend's frown remained stuck into place. "No, actually, I'm good. It's the middle of the afternoon, I've got a ton of things that need to be done. Beg your pardon, sire, but I think—"

"Please, sit down, Erend," Avad said, motioning to the seat across from him. With a satisfying little 'pop!' the bottle in his hands was uncorked. "I didn't think to find a bottle of mead for you, but I can ask for one to be fetched if that's what you prefer."

Erend did not answer as he sat down. Avad filled up a glass for his friend, then pushed it toward him. Erend took a brief, cautious glance to the cup before gingerly taking it in his hand.

Avad let out an awkward chuckle. "I'm sorry, my friend, you must think that I've gone irrevocably over the edge of madness. I assure you, I'm still completely sane."

"S'okay," Erend finally answered. "I would have understood if you'd gone bonkers. It's just… I've been hearing things about the meeting earlier this afternoon and…"

"Oh, that." Avad waved a hand around, feigning indifference. "That was nothing important. I fear I am simply tired. I need more rest, I think."

That was a bold lie, in fact. For the past few days, Avad's nights had been steadily improving. A cup of wine was now all he needed to tip him to a welcome state of dreamless sleep. Well, most of the time. On some evenings, two were necessary. Or even three. Avad didn't think to keep count.

Erend nodded. "Alright. If that's what you say." He grinned and spun his glass of wine a bit, squinting at the red liquid as it twirled in his cup. "Still, better not make it a habit to summon me to your chambers on a whim. People might start to talk, y'know?"

Avad pinched the bridge of his nose. "Oh, let them. There will always be unfounded rumors about me. I'm the biggest target for gossip in the entire Sundown. A staggering amount of my courtiers would just love to learn all the juicy details of my personal life."

"Ugh." Erend made a face. "Not looking to offend, but I don't really want people to think that we're, uh…"

"They would wildly inaccurate," Avad replied with a snort. "Usually, I do not go for partners who are so… hairy."

Erend's mouth twisted into a mock scowl. "Again with that? Well, I wouldn't call you a catch myself, Your Radiantship. You're not exactly the pinnacle of handsomeness in Oseram terms."

"Oh? And what would that be?"

"I dunno," replied Erend. "Someone who looks like they know their way around a workshop or a battlefield, I guess? The perfect craftsman and warrior. Someone who's got ideas, y'know, and who's got the skills and the guts to make something out of 'em."

For some reason, a chill crawled down Avad's spine at Erend's words. Someone like Dervahl, then, came the unwelcome thought. Before he'd chosen to throw all sensible thoughts out the window, Ersa's murderer had been admired—no, loved—throughout the clans for his fighting prowess and razor-sharp mind. Erend used to say the guy had been on a one-way track to becoming an ealdorman, the highest and most respected position an Oseram could achieve. And yet Ersa had preferred a Carja prince with a fondness for musty scrolls and the gentle hands of a harpist. Dervahl had taken it badly, to put it in mild terms.

Damn him to hell, Avad thought, spite rising to his mouth like bile.

Thankfully, Erend did not seem to notice the dark thoughts brewing within Avad's mind. "So, yeah, long story short," the Vanguardsman said, "you're absolutely not my type. Sorry, boss."

In spite of the nausea still gripping him, Avad felt a slight smile teasing his lips. "Oho. I know what your type is, my friend. And I must say I wholeheartedly agree with your tastes."

Erend made a face. "No. I don't want to hear anything about your damn tastes. That's still my sister you're talking about."

"Fair enough!" Avad said, laughing. He was surprised, gladdened even, by the sound as it left his mouth. Slowly, the tensions in his shoulders eased up and the knots that had been forming in the bottom of his gut untangled themselves. The hateful sight of Dervahl's face receded to the back of his mind while Avad sipped his wine, relishing in its warmth as it descended down his throat.

In contrast, Erend's expression had darkened, and he peered down at his drink with something that resembled disgust showing in his blue-grey eyes. Avad was startled to find that his friend's hands seemed to tremble ever so slightly. Still, the moment Erend noticed the king's scrutiny, he stiffened in his chair, and his hands stopped shaking. Avad looked away, not knowing what to make of such a sight. Had he only imagined it?

After a while, a tight smile emerged on Erend's features. Avad sighed in relief. He probably had just imagined it. If something was troubling Erend, he would definitely tell Avad… would he?

"Ugh," Erend said, thankfully cutting short Avad's musings, "can't believe I'm having this kind of conversation with the damn physical incarnation of the Sun's will. What would the rest of your court think if they knew you have base, vile needs like the rest of us lowly humans?"

"They'd be delighted, as I told you before," Avad said dryly. "Most of them would love an opportunity to drag me off my pedestal." There were days where Avad would let them, in truth. But he would not risk the pandemonium that would be sure to follow. He owed that mercy to his people, at least.

Still, perhaps one day Avad would muster the strength required to shatter the distasteful delusion that maintained him on the throne. Perhaps one day his people would not need to suffer the whims of a painfully average man who'd been propelled to near godhood due to the simple fluke of being born as his father's son.

Avad stared at the now empty glass in his hand, stomach twisting once more as the sounds and images of his earlier outburst floated back to his mind. Before the now achingly fake smile on his face could flitter away to nothingness, he reached for the bottle of fruit wine.

Erend, thankfully, said nothing. Still, Avad could feel the heat of his friend's gaze on him. It felt almost… judgemental.

The palace was starting to be abuzz with sordid rumors.

Avad's uncharacteristic bout of rage had been but an inkling of things to come, a few courtiers worried. After all, the previous Sun-King had been charming and gracious in his youth as well, before the Derangement had set him over the slow but inexorable path of madness. The same blood flowed in Avad's veins, some were quick to point out. Perhaps he would crumble under the pressure in the same manner as his father, plunging the sundown into yet another era of chaos and bloodshed, the nastier voices insinuated. Avad, to his credit, seemed to pay these gossipers no mind. Outwardly, at least, he appeared in complete control of his person, treating these disingenuous bits of slander with more poise than Erend could have managed.

Still, the latter could not help but worry.

True, it seemed Avad had regained some of his usual spirits; his skin showed none of the sickly pallor that had plagued him since the attack of the Eclipse, and the bruise-like bags under his eyes had mostly vanished. He was certainly a bit more scatterbrained than was customary (arriving late to his royal councils because he'd overslept was not something Avad had been accustomed to doing before all this mess), but the king remained respectful, even composed, in all of his interactions with his court. By all means, Erend should have been relieved by the fact that his boss appeared on the road to recovery.

Especially since he already had a lot of crap to deal with on his own plate right now.

Splitting headaches and sudden shaking fits had become everyday nuisances, ones that made it difficult to stay focused on the tasks at hand. Worse still, Erend couldn't remember a time where he'd slept more than a few hours in a row without being jolted awake by some nightmare. Always he'd wake, mouth dry, teeth chattering, with images of bloodied, battered corpses seemingly etched on the back of his eyelids. More often than not, it was the sight of Ersa's mangled body that would weave into his nightly terrors; other times it was the silently judging faces of the comrades he'd sent to their deaths during the attack on the Spire.

And, sometimes, worse of all, he'd dream of Aloy dying as Ersa did, her usually bright gold-green eyes dimming as her body went limp in his arms…

There was no news of her, even months after the battle against the Eclipse. Not long after the Nora party led by Warchief Sona had departed for the Sacred Lands, Aloy had left as well, citing some nebulous reason as to why she could not stick around. Erend had been well aware that she would not stay in Meridian; after all, it was not as if she owned anything to him or any of the other people she'd saved by defeating the being called HADES (whatever the hell it was). He was just some idiot who'd been lucky enough to bumble his way into her life; in all probabilities, their paths would possibly never even cross again. Really, it was evident she had better things to do than waste her precious time on an oaf like Erend.

No, Erend thought, frowning as he watched Avad pour himself yet another drink, he really had enough trouble to deal on his own.

Tonight, the king was babbling on, as usual. Avad was a funny drunk, alternating between boisterous cheer and brooding contemplation at the drop of a hat. Erend found his sudden mood changes a little disconcerting, but not as much as his choices of topics. It was not typical of the Oseram to philosophize about the world while being drunk off one's ass. Clearly, the Carja thought otherwise.

"It's disheartening that we know so little about Nora customs," Avad was saying, unaware that Erend was tuning out half of the things that were coming out of his mouth. "Their religious beliefs are as fundamental to their culture as the cult of the Sun is to us Carja, but we know next to nothing about their core tenets."

"Uh-huh," Erend said, trying to ignore the migraine currently seizing his head in a vise-like grip.

"What about religious celebrations? In fact, what form of entertainment do the Nora have? They seem so serious in all manners of things."

That did bring a half-smile out of Erend. "Yeah, that's the impression I got too. No drunken revelry for them, no siree."

Avad glanced down at the table. He'd already managed to empty a whole fruit wine bottle by himself. Additionally, the king had wiped his plate clean, with not even a morsel of their evening feast remaining. The whole of his Oseram Vanguard would have been proud that their ruler was capable of such an accomplishment. "Perhaps they've got the right idea. Excesses make us complacent in our privileges, after all."

Erend wearily passed a hand through his beard, fighting off his fatigue. Where the hell do that even come from…? It seemed he couldn't understand half of what the king was saying.

"We should strive to be more like the Nora," Avad concluded, waving his glass of wine around in a little dramatic flourish. He then sighed. "In fact, perhaps I should have taken the occasion to ask Aloy about her culture while she was still in Meridian. I'm sure her counsel would have helped us greatly."

"Nah, she wouldn't have been able to tell you anything," Erend said. "She's not Nora. Well, she is, but at the same time she's not. It's complicated."

A flicker of Avad's usual intellect filtered through his alcohol-clouded eyes. "Oh," he said. "She's Outcast? I never even…" He made an irritated noise and said no more.

"Yeah," Erend replied, surprised that Avad had put the pieces together so quickly. "She's been an Outcast since birth. Or so I understood. It's not exactly something I could just ask her about, y'know. Bit of a downer, as far as conversation starters go." Erend scowled, hands clenching into fists. He'd never learned just who the hell was responsible for inflicting such a thing on her, but he knew he'd love to take a swing or two at them—preferably with his warhammer. "I figured it was a bit of a sore subject for her."

"She was cast out at birth?" Avad said, voice thick with disgust and disbelief. "What a barbaric notion!"

"Well, all of our tribes have these wonderful, charming little quirks, haven't they?" Erend said. "Us Oseram see women as property, you Carja used to treat my people like chattel..."

The king stilled, his gaze snapping to Erend with the intensity and the vulnerability of a prey stuck in a hunter's path. The latter broke eye contact, slightly taken aback by the distress coming from Avad in waves. Inwardly, he cursed himself. Good going, Erend, you jackass! Even sober, he couldn't stop running his mouth like the stupid punk he was. No wonder Aloy didn't think much of you, you useless piece of Glinthawk scrap…

Avad gripped his cup so tightly his knuckles went white. "I… I am sorry, Erend. For everything that my people has inflicted on yours."

"What?" Erend bounced his eyebrows lazily, hoping to diffuse the tension. "It's not like you had anything to do with it. It's not your fault your dad became a dick."

"But that's not true, isn't it? I didn't build the system that led to such atrocities, but I profited from it. I grew up a pampered prince because of the suffering of other people. I am complicit in the horrors that had been brought upon your tribe. And upon your family."

For a moment, Erend found nothing to say. Not so long ago, he would have whole-heartedly agreed with Avad's self-deprecating assessment. When Ersa had been taken in the Raids, Erend had drunk himself to sleep every night, wishing a horrible death to her Carja captors. Most of all he had wanted the Sun-King and his ilk to suffer as much as he had when they had taken away from him the only real family he had left, the one person who could ground his unstable world into a semblance of peace and calm.

But now, whenever Erend tried to imagine how it must have been, spending a childhood navigating the unpredictable and violent mood swings of someone who should have been your protector from birth—well, there was the rub, wasn't it? Erend didn't have to imagine it. His dad hadn't been as insane as King Jiran, but he'd been a nasty piece of work too. Finding out that he had something in common with someone he'd once wanted dead had been a bitter pill to swallow.

"I dunno," he finally answered. "I think it's more complicated than that. You're trying to make amends. That accounts for something, right? And your dad did kill your brother when the guy tried to set things right. No wonder you were so afraid to go against your old man." It's not like I was any braver when mine decided to put me an' my sister through the wringer, Erend thought darkly. Always Ersa had borne the brunt of their father's abuse; from birth, she had positioned herself as her little brother's protector, keeping him away from the worse the world could throw at them. Erend inwardly let out a slew of curses. No matter how hard he tried, memories of her always slithered their way back to the forefront of his mind. Self-hatred twisted Erend's stomach in knots as he contemplated the mug full of ale in front of him.

At the other end of the table, Avad would still not meet his gaze. The king's posture was slackened, as if he was a puppet whose strings had just been cut.

More than anything, it was this despondent sight that pushed Erend to continue. "Aw, shit. You know I'm bad at this. You know there's a reason why Marad's got the job that he has, and I'm stuck swinging a big hammer around. I'm a dumb guy. I can smash things, but that's about it. I'm no good with words."

"You're already helping plenty," Avad said wearily. "You listen to me every week. I think Marad would have quit after the first time, honestly speaking."

"He'd be appalled for sure," Erend said. "I know I am—'cause you're still insisting on drinking that pisspoor fruit juice instead of something good."

Avad managed a feeble grin before downing his drink in one go. "I'm sorry, Erend, but on that count, we'll have to disagree."

Erend mirrored his smile, but now he was eyeing the king critically. "By the way, how many of these did you have?"

"Hmm?" Avad was swaying a little. "Oh, I'm still not at my limit, really. I can't say I would drink you under the table, but I'm more resilient that I look. You don't have to worry about me."

"If you say so," Erend replied. "But as someone who can hold his drink better than the average idiot, I'd advise you to stop for the night. Else, you're gonna hate the world when you'll wake up next morning."

Avad chuckled. "Noted. I'll drink just enough so it can help me sleep. Though, a part of me thinks a cup or two would help me deal with all the courtiers who will come whining at me tomorrow."

"Yeah, I getcha. I wouldn't want to deal with a bunch of Carja nobles while sober too."

"It's a suggestion worth remembering, at least." Avad gingerly waved a hand at Erend. His mouth was smiling, but his eyes were not. "Good night, Captain."

"Good night, Your Brightness."

Erend made for the door, only to stop and give a surreptitious glance behind him. His cheeks flushed pink, Avad hummed to himself as he filled his cup with more fruit wine.