Chapter Text
She wants to get going almost immediately, because of course she does, but he manages to convince her to stay while her leg heals. “Fireclaws,” she tells him around a mouthful of pork bun, when he asks how she got hurt. Apparently they’re an entirely different class of monster from the Scorcher that put that scar on her forehead. As if one terrifying machine he’s never heard of wasn’t enough.
And here she is, sitting in front of him talking about it like she tripped on her way to the market or something. It’s only when she furrows her brow at him that he realizes he’s gaping.
“Sorry,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just… I’m just glad you’re here. Safe.”
She chews slowly, cheeks adorably round with food. “You were worried about me?”
“I’m never not worried about you. Not that you need it, or anything.” His face warms. What an idiot he must seem like, fretting over a woman who brings down Thunderjaws on a frighteningly regular basis. “I know you can take care of yourself. I just…”
She reaches across the table and touches his hand. It’s the first time she’s ever done so without a layer of leather between them, and it feels like a fucking thunderbolt, stopping every thought in its tracks. He turns his hand up and watches breathlessly as she slides her fingers into his palm, trailing little shocks across his skin.
“Most people don’t worry about me,” she says, her voice hitching just enough to make him ache.
He squeezes her hand, hard.
He catches her studying the scar in a reflection one day.
“It looks good on you. Makes you look even scarier,” he says with a grin.
She turns to look at him incredulously. “You think I’m scary?”
“Oh, all the time. You terrify me.”
She shoves him for that, but she’s wearing a pleased smile when she does.
The night before she has to leave again—the leg’s healed up, he no longer has an excuse to keep her here beyond his own trivial, stupid needs—she follows him home after dinner. This time, there’s no awkwardness, no hesitation. She slides into bed beside him, and although he makes sure to give her space, she curls up against his side anyway. When he dares to put his arm around her she simply grunts and nestles in.
He grins at the ceiling and his heart soars.
Before she leaves, he hugs her tight, and makes sure she has all the supplies she could ever need. He holds her until she gently disengages herself, her hand trailing ever so slightly across his shoulder as she breaks away.
And then she’s gone, carried away on a Charger. Life goes on as usual. He works, serves his city, tries to do right by everyone. Every now and then he’ll see a Vanguardsman throw back a tankard of ale and feel the call at the back of his mind, but it’s a whisper now. It’s nothing compared to her. A few months later she’s back, bringing even wilder stories of even more terrifying machines from the west, and an even more monstrous appetite for pork buns. There’s the comforting press of her at his side, that look in her eyes he dares to hope is just for him. They walk through Meridian at the hour before sunset, the gold catching in her hair. She tells him of her adventures, of old ruins deep within the earth, of a man named Sylens whose mention always makes her jaw clench. And then before he knows it she’s gone again, leaving nothing but the scent of her lingering in his sheets.
(A Vanguardsman catches her going home with him one night, and he doesn’t hear the end of it for weeks.)
It’s like this for a long time. She comes and goes. Roars in like a jungle storm, then vanishes just as suddenly. It used to hurt every time, and it still kinda does, like poking at a tender bruise, but now there’s an understanding. A promise. He can see it smoldering in her eyes whenever they say goodbye and it keeps him going, like coal in a kiln.
There are moments he thinks, he doesn’t even need her to decide that she wants him. He’s just happy she’s here, in his life, trusting him enough to let him love her.
It’s been two summers since Avad’s wedding, coming around to a third. He hasn’t had a drink in all that time, and for once, he’s actually proud of himself. He doesn’t remember the last time he’s ever felt that way.
He’s escorting the Sun Queen to the temple when Valkund comes to find him. “Someone wants to see you in the gardens,” he says, unable to hide the grin peeking out from under his salt-and-pepper moustache.
His heart races. As soon as Sarisah is seen safely to the temple—she waves him off with a knowing smile—he wastes no time in sprinting to the gardens. He knows exactly which one. And yes, she’s there, standing tall and proud under the palms. Aloy has always been beautiful to him, from the very first moment he caught sight of her amongst the crowd of angry Nora. But there’s just something about now, with the sun gilding her muscular shoulders, her hair a river of flame around her face, that steals every breath from his lungs. She smiles as he comes to stand before her and his heart stops for a brief, shuddering moment.
“It’s real good to see you,” he says, his voice choking up without meaning to.
She nods, smiling, fiddling with her braids. “Erend, there’s something I want to say.”
“Yeah?”
She slowly reaches for his hands, takes them in hers.
“Remember what you said?” she asks without looking up. Her thumbs trace little paths in his palm, making every part of him tingle.
“What’s that?”
“You know, the thing about how you’ll always be here to welcome me home.”
“Yeah?”
“Well I… want to come home,” she says, looking up to meet his eyes. “That is, if home will have me.”
He almost breaks down into tears right there. His knees feel dangerously weak and he can barely hear anything through his pounding heart. “Always,” he whispers.
She stares at him, lips parted. He really likes that glint in her eyes. When she steps towards him and cups his face in her hands, he’s there moving with her, and before he can even form another thought she’s kissing him. She’s actually kissing him, her lips pressed awkwardly against his.
She pulls away almost immediately as if she’d been burned, and for a moment all they do is stare at each other in stunned silence. He gapes slightly, completely lost for words as he desperately tries to process what just happened. She flushes, but looks pleased with herself.
“I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” she finally says, whisper-soft.
He nods, numbly, still scrabbling desperately to regain a hold on his senses. His brain is a hazy mess; all he knows is that he wants more. He wants to kiss her again, and again, until there’s no more doubt left in her, until it finally sinks in that this is happening.
He gently cups her cheek. “…May I?”
She looks up at him, and closes the distance in a second. He pulls her close as her lips come to meet his again. This time she’s certain, and her arms come up to wind around him as she presses close, her mouth warm with the promise of more.
He’s known happiness before. The giddiness of his first kiss, long ago and far away in the Claim. The elation and relief after they finally took Meridian. The firm press of Ersa’s embrace, the bite of a good ale. But the joy he feels now is indescribable, incomparable to anything he’s ever experienced before. Like Aloy herself, it’s beyond his simple understanding.
“Happy” doesn’t even begin to describe it.
He doesn’t know how much time has passed when she finally breaks away, resting her forehead against his. It feels like it’s been both seconds and hours, just the two of them in this little bubble of flowers and palms. He reaches up and caresses her face, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
“I love you,” he says.
And although she doesn’t say anything, he can see the answer in her smile.
