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What she had told him was that she couldn’t stay. She had been endlessly on the move, jumping from one mystery to the next in her frantic journey to understand her origins and her purpose and how to stop the evil that threatened to end all life. She couldn’t afford the luxury of staying in one place for more than a couple of days. She couldn’t afford the luxury of thinking about staying. So she had told him she couldn’t stay.
But that had been months ago. Now Hades and the Eclipse had been defeated, and the shadow of death and destruction no longer loomed over Meridian. Slowly, the Carja rebuilt their capital to its former glory, the city flourishing with travelers and merchants from every tribe, more colorful than ever. And, despite what she had once told Avad, despite the peace that gave her no reason to be in the city anymore, Aloy found herself coming back to the Sundom capital more often than she would have expected.
She had found Elisabet Sobeck’s resting place. She had found her mother; she had mourned her. And she had pieced together the parts of the puzzle she needed to finally understand what caused the Old Ones to succumb and the machines to take over the world. Her life-long goal had been fulfilled, and only then it occurred to her that she had never stopped to think about what she would do next once all of it was over.
Before the Proving, she had thought her place would be among the Nora, or at least with Rost. But the massacre—his death—and her quest for answers sent her on a path far different from what she had anticipated. And although she had returned to the Nora after the battle at the Spire and her search for Elisabet, she didn’t stay in the Embrace for long. She didn’t belong there anymore. The world had gotten too big, and the Sacred Lands, too small.
So Aloy always ended up coming back to Meridian. She would leave for hunts and new quests, but, once those were over, it was the Carja capital that she found herself returning to. She would try to justify herself saying that it was because of the wide variety of merchants in the city that were willing to buy the different items she collected in her travels. Most of her items were machine parts, though, and those she could easily sell in any village she came across.
She would try to justify herself saying that it was because of the wide variety of people. The city was a melting pot for all tribes. It was a way of exploring the world without having to travel far away, for Meridian was the world’s point of convergence. It also was where she could find Talanah, Erend, Vanasha and all others she’d come to call her friends.
Still, it wasn’t any of them that kept her coming back to the Palace of the Sun time after time. It wasn’t any of them that made Aloy stand by herself in the Sun-King’s balcony, watching the sun descend towards the horizon, tightly gripping the golden railing, waiting. For that, she had no excuse she could come up with to justify herself.
She had only the seed of a dangerous thought in her mind, but that was a prospect she refused to thread, and it both scared and thrilled her at the same time.
“Aloy,” she heard him call her name, that honey-covered voice.
She let go of the railing and spun on her heels to find the Sun-King walking up to her, a gentle smile on his lips. Something fluttered inside her stomach at the sight of him and the sound of his voice—it was a sensation that had grown more and more frequent over time, and she wasn’t sure what to make of it.
She tried to return the smile. “Avad.”
“I am happy to see you are back in Meridian.”
He was down to his regular attire that brought him closer to man than god, no fancy ornaments or robes to mark him as the Sun-King.
She liked him that way.
“Well, with Hades destroyed, machines haven’t been causing as many problems as they used to,” she said. “That and the end of the Eclipse have given me some free time to come by.”
Avad chuckled. “I much prefer it this way.”
His good humor eased some of the tension in her body.
“Have you found the answers you were seeking, Aloy?” he asked.
Most of them, she wanted to tell him. It seemed that more had emerged along the way.
Some that she wasn’t prepared for.
“I think so,” she said instead.
Avad walked up to where she was, joining her by the railing. He looked at the extension of Carja territory below, houses and farmlands and vegetation encompassing all the land being touched by the sunlight.
“I can only image what grand journey you went through,” he said, and then turned to her, brown eyes light and intense under the golden sun that was beginning to set. “Still, I am grateful that your path has crossed with Meridian.”
That fluttering in Aloy’s stomach surged back to life, and uninvited thoughts crossed her mind. Dangerous thoughts.
She couldn’t allow herself to go down that path.
She searched for something—anything—to say in response. Thankfully, though, Avad spoke again before imprudent, idiotic words could spew out of her mouth. “Your assistance, more than once, proved to be vital to the survival of our city. Will there ever be a day when I’ll be able to stop thanking you for all you have done for us, Aloy?”
She turned her eyes away from his own, watching the city below and brushing some loose strands of her wild red hair behind her ear. “You have thanked me enough already.”
He chuckled almost to himself and shifted his gaze to the view as well. The Carja land looked like liquid fire under the light of the setting sun. “You diminish your own feats.”
“There are enough people magnifying them as it is.”
Avad let out a delighted sigh. “Ah. Indeed, I have heard rumors of the Nora warrior that brought down a Deathbringer with a single arrow. I was wondering who this woman could be. It would be wise to have her as an ally.”
At that, Aloy cracked a smile. “A single arrow? I’d like to know such incredible woman as well. Maybe I could learn a thing or two from her.”
He laughed softly, a sound that made warmth blossom inside her chest. She decided she liked that, and let silence comfortably envelop them as they watched the sun dip further towards the horizon.
When Avad spoke again, he did so after a resigned sigh. “I know all too well about people inflating one’s importance. To the degree that they worship you as a god.”
Aloy studied his face, the worry he carried and the almost imperceptible melancholy hidden behind his features. He was right. She had never really stopped to think that, if there was one person that knew what it was like to bear the responsibility of many people’s lives and expectations on their shoulders, it was Avad. He certainly understood her position, being held so highly by her own tribe even though she was merely human like everyone else.
She wondered if it felt so lonely to him as it did to her.
Avad turned from the sunset back to her. “I apologize if I give the impression that I am placing you on a pedestal, Aloy, as I’m most certainly not. I only want you to know that my appreciation for your actions have no end. I will forever be indebted to you. If I am able to stand here today as the Sun-King, alive and well, it is because of you.”
The dwindling sunlight bathed him in gold, reflecting off the metal pieces he wore and giving him a golden aura. Suddenly it was hard to sustain Avad’s piercing gaze, in spite of all the softness contained in his caramel eyes, and it was not because of the sunlight.
Aloy let her gaze drop, her focus falling to his waist where he had carried his sword on the day of the attack on Meridian, the memory still fresh in her mind. “And yet you were so ready to face Helis all by yourself back then,” she commented.
“As were you.”
She shook her head. “It’s different.”
“Different how?”
“You are the Sun-King, Avad. The Carja people need you. What if Helis had killed you?”
“I could ask you the same question. Do you think your life holds no value? Not only to the destiny of all of us, but also to the people that care about you?”
Aloy wondered whom he was including in that group. More importantly, to which degree it included himself.
It bothered her how the doubt nagged her, and, on top of it all, how she had stopped him from unsheathing his sword back then because she, too, cared about him—more than she would like to admit.
He took one step closer to her.
“Do you think your life holds no value… to me?” he asked in a quiet voice.
And there it was. Her heartbeat quickened, and whatever was fluttering inside her stomach grew restless again.
It was a dangerous path to thread.
Aloy tried to clear her throat. “Right. Because I’m useful to you and the Sundom. You wouldn’t want to lose an important tool.”
She knew, the instant the words left her mouth, that they were cruel and dishonest. But she felt unexpectedly defensive and in need to shift the course of the conversation. She couldn’t fuel those particular thoughts inside her head any further.
“By the Sun, Aloy, this is not what I meant—!” he pleaded. The rising desperation in his voice tied a knot in her throat, and she immediately wished she could swallow back her harsh words.
“I’m sorry,” she mended. “I didn’t mean it. I… I’m just…”
Words escaped her. His proximity made it hard for her to think clearly.
He waited for her to finish her thoughts.
“Confused,” she said at last, as if it was a heavy burden being lifted from her shoulders, releasing the pressure in her lungs.
“Confused?”
And frustrated, she thought. Mostly at herself.
She pressed the heel of her hand against her temple, grinding her teeth together.
Why did she feel so scared, anyway?
She could deal with machines just fine. She could read the patterns in their behavior. She could override them. They were made of steel and wire, and she knew precisely where to hit to take them down. She could finish Eclipse cultists with an arrow to the head. She could singlehandedly clean out entire bandit camps. She could defeat fearsome warriors and legendary machines.
This, on the other hand…
“Aloy…”
She raised her eyes to meet his.
“I know I have made things more complicated than necessary,” he said. “You started as nothing more than an ally to me, but, in my own foolishness, I let Ersa’s death muddle my thoughts and feelings, and I was unfair to you. I want you to know that the shadow of confusion is gone now. I know where my heart stands. What it wants. I’ve never been more certain of it.”
He stepped closer to her again, and Aloy noticed just how small the distance between them was, only a few centimeters separating them as they stood in that ample balcony. She could feel the warmth radiating from his body, almost as if he was the actual sun. His eyes were pools of molten gold under the fading sunlight, boring into her very being.
She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came to her.
Why did he have such an effect on her? When had she let him slip under her skin like that?
And why was she so scared of those feelings taking root in her chest?
“Avad…” His name was all she could say. It sounded, to her ears, almost like a prayer.
He lifted his hand, his fingers barely touching the exposed skin of her arm. She was transfixed by his eyes, the gold melting away from them as the sun sank behind the distant mountains and night gradually fell, stars dotting the Carja sky.
Avad brushed a lock of her hair behind her shoulder, the tip of his fingers grazing her pale neck with a touch as light as that of a feather. Aloy didn’t move. His hand retreated only enough to come to rest on the side of her jaw. And she didn’t move.
Her throat was dry as he brought his other hand to the other side of her face. Never had her heart beat more wildly in her chest. His touch was gentle, his movements measured and loose to allow her to pull away if she wanted. But she didn’t. The same force that kept ushering her back to Meridian and scared her so much also glued her to where she stood, watching the Sun-King angle his head, watching his mouth lean in, bringing her own mouth to his as her eyes closed.
Maybe her fear had been of flying too close to the sun and getting burned.
When her lips touched his, though, the heat was not that of a scorching sun. It was soft, tender, comfortable—like a warm, pleasant afternoon. It spread through her entire body, igniting her senses and dissipating any doubt she had had.
And then her arms were wrapping around his neck because she needed more of that kiss. His own arms found their way around her waist, his hands pressing down on her, trying to bring her closer, his body flush against hers.
Where it belonged, she thought.
Being so hardened after the countless battles she’d faced, Aloy was not expecting the softness she found in Avad’s lips. She was surprised to realize how much she enjoyed that sensation of his mouth on hers, how much she didn’t want that to end.
But it had to. And so Avad eventually pulled back, their lips lingering on each other as much as they could.
His eyes were then back on her, taking her breath away with their intensity even with the light of the sun now gone.
It seemed silly to be afraid. After all she’d faced, monsters of both metal and flesh, the uneasiness she had been feeling seemed out of place.
If she couldn’t be brave with this, what was her bravery worth?
“I…” she began, gathering the courage that grew inside her chest, “I want to stay.”
“Stay?”
She angled her face to his, so he could make out the resolution in her newfound decision.
“You once asked me to stay in Meridian. I’ve made up my mind now.”
She didn’t know what the future held in store for her, but, for the time being, she wanted to enjoy the present and not have to worry about past or destiny or ancient gods and machines. She wanted to enjoy that good feeling she had found in his arms and his lips, the fluttering in her stomach and the thrill and warmth he brought to her.
“I want to stay. Here. With you. If you still want it, of course.”
He smiled, his thumbs drawing tender circles on her lower back. “I can arrange to that.”
She smiled back at him.
It might be a scary path to go down, but she had never been one to let fear stop her.