Archive of Our Own ^beta

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Kavvoh can’t be blamed for watching the Champion. He owes her his life, this chance to redeem his honor. It’s a little bit hero-worship, a little bit of a crush. Even as he tells himself that the reality is he is a footnote in her story, not a major part of it. Kavvoh doesn’t feel any bitterness about this, practically all Tenakth find their eyes drawn to the flame-haired warrior after all she's Hekarro’s mighty Champion. He also knows that they try to temper the staring because it makes her uncomfortable. He does the same, dragging his eyes away time and again from where she talks nearby with his grandmother and Marshal Kotallo. 

The Arena is loud today, a trio of Desert Clan warriors testing their mettle against five Clawstriders as the overhead sun beats down with equal ferocity. One machine is already down and a second falls in a shower of sparks as one of the fighters launches themselves through the air to bury their spear into the beast’s head.

He can’t hear the words through the roar of the crowd, but whatever story Aloy is telling has her gripped in gleeful delight rather than focused on the fight below them. Her face is bright with dancing amusement and her hands wave through the air in time with her words. Even more impressive is the fact that the normally stoic marshal is laughing as he bumps his uninjured shoulder into the Champion’s, shaking his head and gesturing “enough” with his own hand before dropping it at his side.

It’s only then, that Kavvoh sees it. Because he is staring. 

As the trio breaks apart, Aloy follows Dekka toward the throne room; but not before she brushes her hand against Kotallo’s. For just a moment their fingers are tangled together, a touch as light as the butterfly wings the Utaru are so fascinated with but entirely and wholly deliberate. Kotallo rubs his thumb along Aloy’s, the tips of their fingers clinging for a heartbeat more before she moves away.

He drops his gaze to the stone in front of him, a thousand questions flying through his head. He wonders if anyone else saw, if anyone else knows. There’s been no whisper of this and even a traitor on the road to redemption hears the gossip as it spreads. Something stops him from rushing off to find one of the few friends he has as he glances back at Kotallo.

Kavvoh sees the marshal’s face, sees the emotion etched there before the expressionless mask falls into place. And he is not so young as to not recognize the look of a man deeply in love.

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It had been a long first day of the Embassy, exhausting, frustrating, more than a little nerve-wracking at times. He’d sat with his advisors, facing down a wall of blank-faced Tenakth, not to mention the Savior of Meridian with her news that something terrible was coming and peace needed to happen only so they could all go to war together. It was almost too much to take, and only because he held Aloy in such high esteem was he able to push through the disbelief and promise to do just that. 

Avad knew he should try to sleep, but his mind was still spinning through everything that had happened. A walk in the cool night air of the garden was always helpful when the weight of this life he’d chosen settled on him as heavily as the damned crown. 

He stopped as he always did at Kadaman’s memorial first and laid his hand against the simple stone. The surface still warm from the sun. He missed his older brother with an ache that consumed him at times. Kadaman would have been a much better king, more assured, less prone to ridiculous fantasies and dreams. But that hadn’t been the Sun’s will. He huffed a quiet sigh. It was a struggle at times to believe anymore–especially when the Sun was so cruel as to allow all this to happen. “I miss you,” he murmured. Avad took a deep breath and continued his walk. 

Fashav’s memorial was deeper into the garden, the pain of it still as bitingly fresh as the half of the stone that had been left with jagged edges. Avad had pressed the sculptors to use the Tenakth armor as inspiration for half the sculpture after Aloy’s message about Fashav’s hopes for peace had reached him. If his cousin had found part of himself in the Forbidden West, Avad would honor that, and do what he could to make sure it was known to any who visited the garden. 

He heard the quiet voices and slowed, coming to a standstill just behind the wide leaves of a flowering arch. He had no wish to speak with anyone and as he caught sight of the pair standing in front of the memorial his heart came to a shuddering stop.

For all the strange and unbelievable news he’d learned of today the last thing Avad expected to see was Marshal Kotallo touching Aloy’s face as if she were made of spun glass.

Or perhaps even more shockingly was that she allowed it. 

The pair hadn’t given any indication they were involved at any point in the last few days, though Avad found himself wondering if Marad knew and why he hadn’t warned him. Now it was painfully clear as Aloy stood still, looking up at the massive one-armed man with a watery smile and a light in her eyes Avad knew damn well wasn’t the moon. “I wish I could have gotten to know him better,” she whispered. “He seemed like a good man.” 

Kotallo carefully wiped the tears from her cheeks with a soft smile of his own. “I never imagined I’d call a Carja my brother, but I did. Ten above, I miss him. He was one of the best I have ever had the honor of knowing,” His soft rumbling voice was startlingly different from the hard tone he’d used today during the proceedings. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

“Of course. When Marad mentioned it I knew you’d want to see it.” Aloy pushed up on her toes and pressed her lips to Kotallo’s, the kiss was familiar, easy and Avad would have been lying to say it didn’t twist a knife of want and jealousy into his gut. 

But he’d learned a long time ago that happy endings were for stories told to children, not for men like him. He hoped though, wished with all the pieces left of his heart as he carefully eased back from the pair and retraced his steps through the garden, for Aloy’s happiness to remain. 

If anyone deserved it, she did. 

Chapter Text

Look, Erend’s the first to admit he’s not a genius. Not like Aloy, or Beta. Zo’s got the battle smarts and even Varl thinks things through with frightening thoroughness. Alva’s just…well Alva. Frankly, he’s pretty sure even Kotallo is slightly more intelligent than he is (not that he’d ever admit that out loud). He’s good with a hammer and occasionally makes good speeches. He’s not dumb, he’s just not as smart as his friends.

So he’s pretty sure he’s not the first to notice how Aloy goes straight for the game room–Kotallo’s room–whenever she comes to the Base. How she’ll smile and wave to the rest of them even as her feet carry her around the common room to him. 

He’s not jealous, he wants to get that out on the anvil straight off. Two years ago he probably would have been, but his love for the Savior of Meridian has tempered under the fire and the constant hammering of their fight. He loves her as so many others love her–because she is Aloy and there is no greater honor than being called to her side as her friend and fighter. 

He’s not smart, but he knows that Kotallo’s love is different. There’s just something…an absence of awe?

And maybe that’s what it is. The quiet deference. The stoic respect. Kotallo doesn’t seem to wait for Aloy to issue an order so much as anticipate what she needs even before she even realizes it herself. 

The first time Erend had truly noticed something was brewing between them was a few weeks ago. Aloy had stumbled in late one night just around dinner time, that familiar exhausted look on her face. None of them had known she was coming–except, apparently-Kotallo. The Tenakth had taken the pack from Aloy and gestured at the plate he’d set near the end of the couch. Erend, hell, everyone had assumed it was his food. 

Aloy had given Kotallo a tired smile and sank down, reaching out to pat Erend on the arm in greeting even as she dug into the plate. When she’d finished and gone to her room to sleep, Erend had watched in curious amazement as Kotallo cleaned out her pack and restocked it with quiet efficiency. Then he’d vanished for a few moments, returning with his metal arm on and the supplies for arrows. He’d fletched several dozen and refilled Aloy’s quiver while eating his own meal, finishing it up by carefully inspecting and sharpening the lethal edge of her spear. 

Erend kept his mouth shut until later, when it was just him, Varl, and Zo in the common room. “Did you all see that?”

“Yeah,” Varl replied with a nod. “Probably should help him next time instead of leaving him to do all the work.” 

“No,” Zo said with a shake of her head and a slight knowing smile. “Find something else to help with.” Her tone was amused, but Erend knew better than to argue with her about it.

He knows Zo’s right when he happens to see the results the next morning, when Aloy–sleep mussed and hazy-eyed–emerges from her room as Erend’s making breakfast. 

“You headed back out?” He asks, sliding a warm cup in her direction as she lays her head on the counter. 

“Not right away. I’m almost out of arrows.” She makes a sound of discontent. “I hate fletching. It’s so tedious.” 

“Lucky for you Kotallo took care of it last night.” Erend’s not entirely sure if he should be giving the game away, but he also isn’t about to try and take credit for someone else’s hard work. 

“He–?” Aloy lifted her head and looked over her shoulder at the now full baskets by her door, green eyes narrowing as she turned toward their bunks. “Oh, that was nice of him.” 

Erend bit his tongue. Forge love the girl, but she could be dense as a hammered anvil about people at times. Thankfully, Kotallo was smart, Erend would put shards on him as a guaranteed win.   

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Zo knows the Tenakth better than any of her companions. Unsurprising, given that she’s fought with them against the Carja. Or that her clan’s lands border theirs and the Utaru have spent years learning all they can about their neighbors–just in case hostilities ever resume. It’s because of this she knows that whatever Aloy did to earn the fealty of not only a marshal but Hekarro himself, must have been spectacular. 

Hearing Kotallo tell the story of the Bulwark’s destruction later only confirms it. 

Aloy though, doesn’t quite seem to realize the hold she has taken upon the Tenakth–Kotallo in particular. Zo sees it. The way he throws himself into learning as if it were a battle to be won, the way those dark eyes follow Aloy whenever she is back at Base. 

From talking with Varl, Zo understands why Aloy is so reticent, almost as stoic as Kotallo in her own way. Her years of isolation and her determination to save the world–single-handedly if necessary–have wrought her into a strong weave. 

She is oblivious though, all her focus on saving the world rather than taking a moment for her own happiness. But she blooms under Kotallo’s quiet care nonetheless, and the sight of it makes Zo’s own love-drenched heart ache all the more. 

So when Aloy hands over the apex Stormbird heart to the very startled marshal one day with a casual “oh, by the way, I got this for you,” it’s all Zo can do to keep from laughing. 

“When are you going to tell her she just accepted your courtship offer?” She murmurs, watching Aloy settle onto the couch next to Erend to start a game of Strike. 

“To be honest, I suspect she did this on purpose,” Kotallo replies with a grin as he weighs the machine part in his hand. “She has queried Dekka enough about the ways of the Tenakth, I find it hard to believe this subject hasn’t come up.” 

Zo laughs, but when she catches Aloy watching Kotallo with sharp green eyes later she suspects that he may be right about his commander after all. And the next morning when Varl wonders why Kotallo is up and out of his bunk so early, she merely hides her smile behind her cup of tea. Then distracts him when the door to Aloy’s quarters open so Kotallo can slip out unobserved. His messed-up paint and the starry-look she sees in Aloy’s eyes later is reward enough.

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When she first met Aloy, all Petra saw was a young slip of a girl with flame for hair. She’d thought her too fragile to be out in the wild alone. Of course, then she took out a bandit camp and Scrappers, and wielded Petra’s cannon with incredible precision. So time–and familiarity–have changed her impression drastically. Now she knows what those hands are capable of carrying, and that the young face hides a weary soul bearing the weight of the world. They are friends, good friends, she thinks and Aloy at least let's her talk her into sitting still with an ale or three when she passes through Chainscrape.

This time, she’s brought company, and oh what a delight it has been. Obviously Petra notices the massive Tenakth who stands like a sentinel behind Aloy when they walk into the bar providing an almost visible circle of protection for her friend against the crowd, but even more interesting is the fact that the man has put his hand on her back. 

And Aloy, who does not like to be touched, is leaning into it . 

Petra’s amusement only grows as Aloy doges her more subtle questions throughout the night, all the while staring across the bar at where her mountain of a Tenakth is drinking with Erend and–you know Petra’s not completely sure–but she thinks they’re deliberately seeing how many people he can scare just with his face locked in this incredible scowl.

It’s a cute face, regardless, if one is into those sorts of men. Or men at all, for that matter. Petra isn’t the least bit intimidated by him, even if he could probably take her in a fight. She knows Aloy wouldn’t ever let it happen. So she grabs her friend by the arm and drags her across the bar, shoving her toward the bench where the marshal sits and plopping down into the chair next ot Erend. 

Aloy is just tipsy enough that she’s landed half in Kotallo’s lap and it takes the pair a moment to untangle themselves. Petra hears Erend’s snort. Sees the glare from the marshal–impressive, but ultimately harmless–and shoots him a slow, deliberate wink before she tips back her mug to finish her ale. When she finishes, she does not miss the very careful slide of Kotallo’s hand through Aloy’s hair, or the shudder that works through her friend as a result. 

“Erend, we need more ale. Come help me carry,” she says, slapping him on the shoulder. He grumbles, but follows her and as Petra peeks back toward the couple she’s rewarded with the sight of that mean Tenakth smiling at Aloy like she’s the only thing in this world as he brushes a kiss against her upturned mouth.

Chapter Text

He emerges from the room shared with Zo in the predawn hour, rubbing a hand over his face. Sleep has been hard to come by, his dreams plagued with memories of the battle in the Embrace, the last time he’d seen Vala, finding Aloy in the river near Plainsong. Rather than disurbe Zo from her much needed rest, he’d eased from the bed and headed into the common room. 

The laughter is soft enough it takes him a moment to notice it, and rare enough that it takes an even longer moment to realize it’s Aloy. Then he sees her, curled up on the couch under a blanket, tucked against Kotallo’s left side. She’s smiling up at the man as he traces fingers over her collarbone, and those green eyes are so filled with love that for a moment Varl’s heart just…stops beating. 

Aloy is obviously not a replacement for Vala, the sister he lost; but she is there in his heart and soul all the same. Awe tempered by respect turned into love somewhere along the way and a silent understanding that he would do whatever was necessary to keep her safe, help her with this fight. 

But this. He doesn’t know what to do with this. 

He is equally so happy for her to finally have someone to hold onto and also so afraid, wanting to drag Kotallo aside and let him know in no uncertain terms that Varl will beat his ass if he hurts her–that he can hurt her if he’s not very very careful. There are a thousand words in his head but Varl keeps them all inside, and instead clears his throat to alert them to his presence. 

The interesting bit is they don’t jerk apart, but turn their heads almost in unison toward him as if they are already moving as a unit. He can’t believe he hasn’t noticed it earlier.

“Morning,” Aloy says. “Couldn’t sleep either?”

“Anxious about GEMINI, I guess. I didn’t mean to interrupt.” He smiles and jerks his thumb over his shoulder. “I’m going to go outside for a bit, watch the sunrise.”

“Would you like company?” Aloy was already moving, sliding off the couch. Varl’s surprised at her willingness to leave Kotallo, and equally surprised the marshal doesn’t seem to mind, so he nods and soon finds himself on the ledge overlook, wrapped in the blanket with Aloy, watching as the sky changes to a brilliant wash of pink, orange, and soft blue. 

They sit in silence as the sun crawls up out of the eastern horizon. Varl dares a glance at his friend, his sister. Her hair is lit with gold and there is a soft smile on her lips. 

“Seems like you’ve lost the urge to run off alone,” he said and is unable to keep the grin from slipping onto his face when she gaped at him. 

“You are terrible.” Aloy bumps her shoulder into his and then leans her head against him. “No more running.”

Varl leans back and allows himself to press a kiss into Aloy’s red braids. “I’m happy for you, sister.”

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When Hekarro sent his only surviving marshal with the curious outlander to confront Tekotteh, he never imagined they would bring down the Bulwark. 

He also never imagined...this. 

He is leaning against a post in the heat of the late morning sun, watching his marshal and the champion spar, when he sees it. At first he thinks it’s just a trick of the shadows, the way Kotallo’s hand skims over Aloy’s bared back, but then he sees it again in the way the marshal’s fingers flex just so as he pulls his opponent against him in a decidedly intimate embrace. 

No one else seems to notice and Aloy’s flush is easily explained by both the heat and the exertion of the sparring match. The children watching them are wide-eyed and gawking over the speed of these two formidable warriors, and most of them aren’t old enough for their soldier’s marks yet, let alone to be picking up on the subtleties of what apparently is a full-blown courtship. 

He wonders how he missed it. 

He watches the rest of the fight with interest, noting each time hands linger on skin just a moment too long, the way a blow somehow becomes a tease. He nearly laughs out loud when Aloy bites Kotallo and wiggles out of his hold, the barely concealed look of blown lust in his marshal’s dark eyes as the pair stares at each other for a long moment before Kotallo grins slowly and gestures for the fight to continue. 

Later, when he hears the murmur of voices just inside the war room, he pauses at the edge of the door and smiles at the sight that greets him. Kotallo has leaned a hip against the table, his body angled toward the Champion. Their heads are bent together, the conversation too low for him to hear but judging by the heat spreading once more over Aloy’s pale skin it is a good one. Kotallo slides his fingers into her red hair and kisses her with a surprising amount of restraint for a Tenakth.

Hekarro hopes it is purely because of their current location, he would be sorely disappointed in his marshal if he doesn’t do well by Aloy. Though, from the way her fingers are gripping at Kotallo’s chest armor–without a care for the sharp edges–he suspects he doesn’t have to worry.  

“It is a nice thing to see, amidst all this death.”

Hekarro glances down at Dekka, who watches the pair with a fond smile. “How long have you known?”

“Longer than you,” she replies with a wink. “But then, I don’t have a clan to run.”

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It is late and the Base is quiet except for the low thrum of air through the vents and the machinery that somehow reminds her of the Zenith ship but in a far more comforting way. Beta listens for human noise as she pads silently up from the server room. It feels safer to come out when everyone else is asleep in their beds, or out of the compound. It’s not that she’s necessarily afraid of anyone. (okay, maybe Aloy–a little–and Kotallo even a little more than that) It’s just that…

People are difficult. 
She has difficulty with people. 

Whatever. Both of these things are true, so Beta goes to visit GAIA in the night when she doesn’t have to deal with the noise and the worry.

Beta freezes at the top of the stairs, spotting her sister and the (somewhat) terrifying Tenakth Marshal standing on the far side of the common area. They aren’t speaking, aren’t even moving which accounts for how she missed their presence until it was nearly too late.

They are standing so close, but not touching. Aloy’s face is tipped up to Kotallo’s, her eyes locked on his, a strange wistful smile on her face. Beta knows she should shut her eyes from this–intrusion–but she can’t as the moment hangs there like snowfall. 

But Kotallo doesn’t kiss her sister. At least, not on the mouth. He dips his head and brushes a kiss to her forehead with a gentleness that Beta never would have guessed he possessed. Aloy leans into him for just a moment, the yearning evident in every muscle of her body, but then pulls away. 

Beta doesn’t understand why.

They part like clouds for the sun. Each returning to their own room without so much as a word and the hissing of closed doors is loud in the silence. Beta waits a moment more and then scurries toward the stairs leading up to GAIA’s room. 

“Hello, Beta.” 

“GAIA–” she stops, swallows as she sits on the edge of the metal stairs and looks back toward the door. “Do you know what that was about?”

“Yes.” The AI replies and though she doesn’t elaborate further, there is an air of weariness about the word that makes Beta wonder all the more.

Chapter Text

Fashav returns to the Grove as soon as he’s able to travel, an honor guard of Tenakth led by none other than his friend Kotallo meets him outside the gates of Barren Light. He knew of Kotallo’s injury, the news delivered by a messenger sent by Hekkaro himself when he’d asked Marad if any of his fellow marshals survived the assault. 

It still couldn’t prepare him for the sight, but Kotallo had taken his wide-eyed gaze in stride, even as Fashav cursed himself for his rudeness and averted his gaze. What he is also not prepared for is the Savior of Meridian, a girl half his age and size, to be ready to do battle with him for his moment of shock.

“If you have a problem, you go through me.” Aloy’s hissed challenge surprised him. So did the strength of her grip on his arm.

“A problem?” Confusion laced his voice and he frowned at her. 

“With his missing arm.” Her voice was too low for Kotallo to hear, especially with Dekka now standing between them, her back to Aloy’s, and Fashav realized the chaplain was blocking him from Kotallo’s view. “He has endured enough. If you have an issue then I will make your apologies and you can return to the Sundom.”

“Why would I have a–” Realization dawned, followed by horror. “No! No, I would never .” He grappled with the unimaginable idea that he would deliberately hurt his friend, that he would be anything but relieved beyond compare that Kotallo was still alive. but judging from the look on Aloy’s face it was something she was very concerned about. Fashav allowed his emotion to show on his face, hoping that she would see the truth of it. 

After a moment, Aloy relented. “I will be watching,” she warned. “If you upset him…”

Fashav bowed his head, he didn’t doubt for a moment the woman standing in front of him would take him apart–and unlike Regalla’s rebels would actually finish the job. “I swear on my life I will not.”

She leaves him with a nod, Dekka moving aside so Fashav can embrace his friend. It’s this moment that makes him aware though, and later when he realizes the way the Tenakth had treated Kotallo he understands her words. Once they have returned to the Grove, he watches the pair with curious eyes. They don’t touch, but the feeling in the air shifts each time they come near one another, like the sharpness of the air just before a lightning strike.

And by the Ten do they watch each other when they think no one else is looking. 

One day when he is alone with Kotallo, Fashav probs for information as only an aspiring diplomat can as they eat dinner in front of the fire. “Aloy is quite impressive.” 

“She is a good commander.” Kotallo hummed and sipped his ale. “You should have seen her stand up to Tekotteh. The way she brought him to heel is a memory I will treasure for all my days.”

“We heard of the destruction of the Bulwark from one of Marad’s men shortly before I began my journey back here.” Fashav hid his grin behind his mug. “So when are we going hunting for a machine heart?” 

Kotallo spits his drink out into the fire. Okay, so maybe there’s a heavy emphasis on the aspiring part of the diplomat title, but Fashav grins and slaps his friend on the back until he’s over his coughing fit. 

“Excuse me?”

“You’re gonna sit there and try to tell me there’s nothing between you two?” Fashav watches as the back of Kotallo’s neck turns red, a sure sign he’s on the right track here. “Because I thought we were friends and you know lying to me is damn near impossible.” 

“She is my commander, Fashav, nothing more.” 

“Your commander –” Fashave leans on the word harder than necessary. “Threatened to spank me and send me back to the Sundom because she thought I was going to give you shit about your missing arm.” 

“More likely that she’d just kill you and tell Avad you tripped and died.” 

Fashav threw his head back and laughed. “I was being diplomatic. There was certainly an undertone of promised pain, which you know I am not necessarily opposed to–” 

“I will cut you into pieces if you keep talking.”

He grins at Kotallo’s growled warning and points a finger. “It’s settled then. We’ll go hunting tomorrow so you can start properly courting your commander.”

Chapter Text

Drakka loves people. He's a man of many talents and has a particular knack for seeing people's desires, for finding the right spot to...sorry where was he?

Right. People. He's good at getting to the heart of things, especially when it's matters of the heart. He doesn't like to brag (shut up) but he's responsible for no fewer than nineteen matings across the Tenakth.

Which is why he noticed the heat simmering between Aloy and Kotallo the very first time he saw them together. And why now, at the celebration of the Scorpion moon, he’s determined to make it twenty.  

“DRAKKA!”

Of course, this one might result in his death at the hands of Hekarro’s Champion. 

Drakka stands his ground though, running would mean she’d chase him rather than coming over here where Kotallo is standing. The marshal has an eyebrow raised at him. Though his curious look turns to one of amusement that is quickly hidden away as Aloy stalks toward them. 

She is dripping with the sticky sap of the Spikestalk trap from head to toe. The trap that he laid.

Drakka sips his drink and smiles innocently. “Yes, Desert Flame?”

Her reply is to lunge at him, but as he'd hoped (boy otherwise this would have been awkward), Kotallo intercepts her, catching her about the waist and lifting her off her feet. 

“The oasis baths should be empty,” Drakka suggests calmly.

You owe me , the marshal mouths as he hoists the sticky, angry redhead over his shoulder. 

You’re welcome , Drakka mouths back and this time he does grin.

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Tekotteh is not a humble man, though the events of the last few months have served to remind him that the mountain may stand proud to the howling wind and raging storm, but the gentle snowfall can bring it crashing down in an instant burying man and machine alike with a dreadful fury. 

So it was with the Bulwark, though that was no gentle snow; but a fire-touched…He gritted his teeth…warrior. He couldn’t deny that, anymore than he could deny the air filling his lungs with each breath right in this moment. Anymore than he could deny the way she flew on the wings of the Ten as the hopeless battle raged in the Grove and destroyed an army the same way she destroyed the Bulwark. Anymore than he could deny how she brought Regalla to her knees.

He can see her now from his vantage point. She stands near Kotallo in a corner of the Grove, away from the crowds, but not hiding. They are close, fingers tangled together, her head tipped back, his head bent down to hers. The silent conversation is one he’s seen hundreds of times among couples, though he has never been involved in it himself. 

Truth be told, he has never felt the need. 

Aloy reaches up and touches a cut on Kotallo’s cheekbone, fingers doing double duty as they both sooth and seek out hurt. The kiss happens so fast he only sees it because he is looking right at them. A brush of the lips and Aloy is off at that fast-paced walk of hers, possibly limping a little but still moving quickly. Kotallo goes the other direction toward Hekarro’s throne room a soft look on his face. And the commander of the Sky Clan turns on his heel to head back to his shattered mountain–alone.

A part of him wishes them joy of what they have, while it lasts, even as the rest of him does not understand it in the slightest.

Chapter Text

Alva’s not entirely sure why Aloy and Kotallo have come to the coast when she sees them on the shoreline later that day. Neither had been particularly forthcoming about the reason for their trip, but she assumed if she was needed, they would let her know. So she’d gone about her day, but this quick trip to the water had put her right in their path, so Alva had slowed at the jungle’s edge, unsure if she should join them or not. They appear to be in the middle of a great debate, Kotallo standing on the sand, watching as Aloy sloshes through the tide, laughing as she tries to avoid the waves in her hunt for something just below the water’s surface.

Aloy emerges triumphant, if drenched, holding a seashell above her head, and even from this distance Alva can see the surprised delight on Kotallo’s normally severe face. There is a flurry of conversation as Aloy scans the shell with her Focus, shaking her head and wiggling the fingers of her free hand in a crawling motion before as she tromps back through the waves and vanishes once more. 

Alva debates joining Kotallo on the shore’s edge as the time that Aloy is underwater drag on, but she doesn’t want to interrupt. They get so little time together as it is and she’s reasonably sure this activity isn’t mission critical. 

Aloy finally appears again, a second shell gripped in both hands. Kotallo reaches for her–not the shell–pressing his mouth to hers as he murmurs something against her lips. For a moment, Alva feels an ache in her chest, the buried longing for Federa rising up to twist around her heart with breath-stealing intensity. She shakes her head, tries to tamp it back down as she watches Aloy lean into Kotallo for a second, softer kiss. Then she is pushing the seashell into his hand, green eyes bright with joy as she makes a “go on” gesture until the Tenakth puts it to his ear. 

Kotallo’s reaction is immediate and once again the expression on his face is like nothing she’s ever seen. He leans down so Aloy can put her head near his and Alva presses a hand to her mouth as the realization hits her. 

They’re listening to the sea! 

It should have occurred to her that these two mountain-born warriors hadn’t ever had the opportunity like she had to pick up an empty shell and listen to the sound of the waves, something that was so common to her childhood. 

Alva melts back into the jungle behind her, leaving the couple to their quiet moment in the sun.

Chapter Text

Ivvira is halfway to undressed and has one foot through the door of the Marshals’ private baths when she hears the moan. That in itself doesn’t stop her forward progress, but the sight of the Champion and Marshal Kotallo tangled together in the back corner does.

The Tenakth normally handle this sort of thing with a casual disregard, or even amused interest in certain cases and the discussion of whether or not these two are together has been hot gossip for a number of months. Kumo had scoffed when Pekara claimed to have seen the Champion walking unsteadily down the corner with a bit of white paint still clinging to her lower lip. Ivvira had considered it possible, given the number of times she’d caught Kotallo staring after Aloy when he was supposed to be instructing recruits. 

Now, here right in front of her though, was prime evidence as to the “are they” side of things and to be honest her brain short-circuited a little before she jerked her eyes away. Most Tenakth may not mind an audience, but she’d bet that Aloy does. The Champion seems like a more private sort, even if the baths are public. 

Still, she got an eyeful of Aloy, who is in truth a gorgeous woman, straddling Kotallo’s lap, back bowed, head tipped to the ceiling and eyes closed in ecstasy as he put his mouth on her pale, freckled skin. 

Ivvira had a feeling a number of Tenakth were going to feel like dipshits for doubting Kotallo’s ability to make a bed partner happy after tonight, and was more than a little pleased. They deserved to miss out for being that closed-minded and they deserved the loss of the shards she was going to take from them.

“Ivvira, what are you doing in here?” Someone called when she walked through the door of the main baths. 

“Get your shards ready,” she replied with a grin as she stripped out of her clothes. “You won’t believe what I just saw.” 

Chapter Text

“Beta, I have concerns about this,” GAIA says after a long pause. “I don’t wish to break Aloy’s trust.” 

“You won’t be. I promise. She’s not going to find out anyway.” 

“She is very good at finding out things.” 

Beta stops her work at the console and studies GAIA. “Are you worried ?”

“A little,” she replies with a shrug of projected shoulders. “I don’t wish for Aloy to be angry with me, but also at you.”

Beta is silent for a long moment. GAIA can see the processes running across her young face, a face like Aloy’s–but not. A face like Elisabet’s–but not. The feeling of grief is nothing new, a swell that ebbs like the tide in her matrix. 

“GAIA,” Beta says at last. “Aloy never slows down, we all know this. The repair work down in the bay needs to be done and she was the best one to do it. Sending Kotallo to help is just good sense.”

“I have no concern with that part of the plan. It is the rest of it.” 

“All I’m going to do is stall the elevator for a bit,” Beta replies. “If Aloy really wants to get out she will, but maybe it’ll be enough for her to stop for just a minute.”

GAIA hears the unsaid part of Beta’s thoughts, she has had them herself plenty of times in the last few months. Maybe Aloy will admit how she feels for the Tenakth marshal if she can’t run. Humans , she thinks with a sigh. There is a lot she understands about them, but plenty more she doesn’t.  

She flips over to the camera in the bay. Aloy and Kotallo are kneeling next to each other, hard at work on replacing the decaying cable. Their lips are moving but she has the sound turned off. The marshal reaches out, wiping a smudge of grease off Aloy’s cheek and Aloy freezes, her green eyes wide as she stares at him. She ducks her head, bumping her shoulder into Kotallo’s right side, her cheeks now red. Kotallo’s answering smile is, as always, filled with a softness that only appears when he looks at Aloy and it makes up GAIA’s mind for her. “All right, I agree to this, but if Aloy finds out I am telling her it was your idea.” 

“I’ll take that. She won’t do anything to either of us anyway.” With a grin, Beta taps a few times on the console. “There, that should do it. Operation: Aloy’s Love Life, Phase Two, is a go.”

Chapter Text

He watches Aloy and Kotallo at the fire after their return from the hunt. It was successful, with the help of these two warriors the area is cleared of Clamberjaws, at least for a time. And no serious injuries to dampen their celebration. 

The marshal is seated, armor off and he’s looking up at Aloy as she stands between his legs to clean the cut on his cheek. Her slender fingers, wrapped in a cloth, smooth away the dirt and blood. His hand rests on her hip and whatever he says to her makes the blush rise on her pale skin before she leans down and presses a kiss to his lips. It’s clear they are as comfortable with each other here as they were on the battlefield. 

It reminds him of Chekkatah so much it hurts. 

He breathes through the pain as he has been doing since the news came and continues across the stone floor to the pair. “Food for you both.”

Kotallo’s dark eyes flick to him. “Will you join us?”

It’s on his tongue to refuse, but the marshal’s follow up of, “I have stories about Chekkatah, if you are in a space to hear them.” Has him nodding like an excited child and he joins them at the fire after retrieving his own dinner. As they eat, Kotallo tells several wild tales that have Ikkotah’s sides aching with laughter as Aloy giggles behind her hands at the all-too familiar antics of his love.

After the meal, she is dragged off by a pair of children intent on seeing her “fly.” Ikkotah watches Kotallo watch her, his heart a tangled mixture of joyous and sad. 

“This love is rare. I hope you keep it in your heart always,” he murmurs. 

The stoic marshal smiles, his heart in his eyes. He reaches out and touches a hand to Ikkotah’s shoulder. “Chekkatah spoke of you often and with the same look on his face,” he replies, gesturing at the older man. “I hope that stays with you when the grief falls like snow.” 

“It will.” Ikkotah nods. “Love endures all manner of things.”

Chapter Text

He emerges from his room, thoughts whirling at the speed of sound as usual, when he sees them. Aloy and the Tenakth, once again wrapped up in each other as if the world isn’t hanging on the brink of doom. Indulging in ridiculous emotional entanglements when there are more important matters to attend to. They danced for months, which was annoying enough, but once they admitted their feelings for each other it only got worse. He can’t go anywhere in the Base without being subjected to–

The snort of derision has barely escaped him before the pain hits. As Sylens goes to a knee, he hears the low hiss in his ear. “Say anything to them and I’ll poke you again.” Through the tears, he spots Beta, holding a shock arrow in one slender hand. She’s staring down at him with a raised eyebrow and her grim smile morphs right before his eyes into an expression of feigned apology. 

“I am so sorry! Are you all right?”

It is the height of irony that it’s the Tenakth who lifts him to his feet, Beta’s fake apology still ringing through the air. 

“I wasn’t watching where I was going and I–”

“Why do you have a shock arrow?” That’s Aloy, voice curious and Sylens feels a vicious satisfaction that his assaulter will be caught. 

“I’ve been working on an upgrade for you.” The lie trips so easily from her lips that he realizes he’s dismissed this one as harmless entirely too quickly. “Come on, I’ll show you.” 

He is left alone with the Tenakth, who is a silent mountain of a man under the best of circumstances, but who, as he drops Sylens onto the couch in the center of the room, watches him with dark eyes. 

“Whatever you did to Beta to deserve that,” he says in a softly menacing voice. “I would advise not doing again.” 

If only the fool knew. Sylens closed his eyes and waits for the throbbing in his limbs to pass. 

Chapter Text

The stage is set, a battle of great consequence on the horizon. Our heroes have prepared, done what they can, now there is nothing left to do but wait. 

Wait to run into danger. 
Wait to meet whatever end the Fates have prepared. 

Will they prevail? Save us all? Or will they fall, hearts broken and tears flowing like water?

The stoic Tenakth warrior has followed this flame-haired huntress through battle after battle. He has also followed his heart, and here on the edge of the impending fight, by the soft light of the fire, he will bare his soul to the warrior maiden. 

And our mighty hero, she will lay down the burden she carries–this task to save the world, to save all of us–for just tonight. Tonight she will lay in his arm, allow his strength to fortify hers, allow his words to block out the whispers of fear crowding in the shadows. She will not worry about the future, but will be here in the present with him. 

When the dawn breaks, bringing with it the reality of the fight and the weight again of all she must do. She will rise with the sun, burning just as bright and go to meet her fate. 

Our hopes go with her, but none so much as the Tenakth warrior, who prays to his Ten that she remains safe, that she emerges victorious, and that he will have the chance to feel her lips on his one last time.

Chapter Text

She has fought and loved and survived and grieved through so many years. Sometimes the weight of it threatens to put her knees into the ground; but she has only to look at Hekarro’s steadfast resolution, at Kavvoh’s redemption and it gives her the strength to stand again.

So too has she found strength in this strange outlander from the East, even if Aloy is so very young it’s hard not to think of her as a child. The things she has seen and the things she has done make it very clear she is not, even if her actual age didn’t put her solidly into the category of soldier among the Tenakth. Dekka had some concerns on Hekkaro’s plan of pairing her with his last marshal to go up against Tekotteh, but as usual his eye for strategy won out. 

Kotallo had once been a bright, mischievous boy, but the Embassy stripped that away from him along with his left arm. It hurt her heart to see the darkness in his eyes when he’d presented himself to the Chief and asked for his Kundrat. Hurt even more to see the betrayal that flashed there when Hekarro denied him. But whatever he had endured, his loyalty was without question and so he followed the orders to go to Stone Crest. 

The man who returned was not the man who left. Dekka assumed initially that the change was satisfied revenge at the breaking of the Bulwark. 

That is, until she caught him looking at Aloy with his heart in his eyes. 

The hurt in her heart this time was worry-filled. Of course her sweet boy would fall for the outlander. More than half the tribe seemed to have fallen for her–between her defeat of Grudda, the wiping out of the rebel camps, helping with problems across the clan lands. And then she flew on the Wings of the Ten. Even Dekka felt love blossom in her heart for this red-headed miracle. Still she worried. 

Would Aloy return such affection? She’d welcomed Kotallo into her squad easily enough. Seemed to think of him as a great warrior despite his injury. Dekka had even seen her shoot a fierce glare and a hissed challenge at a Desert Clan soldier who’d scoffed a little too loudly about the marshal. The man had backed away with a panicked apology spilling from his lips when faced with the champion’s fury. For all that, Dekka still was unsure if the love was reciprocated. 

Until Aloy approached her one evening in the Grove with another curious question. By the Ten the child was full of them, but this was the one she had been waiting for. 

“Dekka, may I ask you something?” Aloy seemed nervous, her fingers locked together and those greenshine eyes not quite settling on any one point. 

“Of course, what is it?” 

“The painting.” Aloy gestured at her own face, which now bore the most curious pattern–a combination of Nora, Utaru, Banuk, Tenakth, Quen, and even Carja elements. Dekka wasn’t sure how, but it worked beautifully rather than being a chaotic mess. Though she supposed that was Aloy, wasn’t it, able to twist and mold everything around her into something new. 

“Yours is lovely.” 

“Oh, thank you. Beta came up with the design.” She flushed pink and looked away. “I wasn’t–” She cleared her throat. “I am wondering about the significance of the phrase ‘sharing paint.’”

Dekka cannot stop her eyebrows from going up and Aloy flushes an even deeper shade of pink. “May I ask why?” 

“I–” Embarrassment bleeds to tears faster than the blink of an eye and Aloy looks down at her hands as the misery washes over her whole form.

“Child.” Dekka steps forward and wraps her arms about Aloy’s shaking shoulders. “What is it?” 

“I did something wrong,” she sobs. “I don’t know what though. I don’t know how to fix it.” 

“Tell me what you did,” Dekka says, gently. Through the tears the story comes and Dekka can hear just as clearly what is not being said as what is. The months fighting together, Aloy’s growing feelings for Kotallo, and then an offer to help him with his paint, an offer of her paint and a terrible rejection. 

Ten help her, Dekka would kick that boy’s ass the next time she saw him. It was taking all her self control not to leave Aloy right now and go to the Arena where she knew he was training the new marshals. Though even as the thought flared to life she knew why Kotallo had turned aside Aloy’s offer. Why he felt he must. 

He’d assumed, and rightly so, that Aloy didn’t understand just what she was offering. Though Dekka wished he’d been a shade less honorable about it and a little more selfish in the moment and taken the time to explain to Aloy himself, rather than leaving it to her. 

“Shhh, Aloy. You’ve done nothing wrong and there is nothing to fix. It is not your fault you didn’t know.” 

“I hurt him, I don’t understand how but I know I did,” she whispered. “He was so upset. I’ve never–” 

Dekka cupped Aloy’s face in her hands. “It is not your fault that you didn’t know,” she repeated firmly. “The sharing of paint is complicated. We show our bare faces to our families, our loved ones, our squad. Very rarely to the outside world. Parents paint their children until they are old enough to do it themselves. Squadmates will help if needed, though again, it is rare for such a need and a signal of a connection. To offer to share paint is a declaration. That hearts are bound and beat as one.” She watches the realization dawn in Aloy’s tear-stained face. 

“Kotallo should not have been so harsh with you,” Dekka continued. “Though I understand his fear–that you didn’t comprehend the offer and that you didn’t mean it.” 

“I didn’t understand,” Aloy admits. “But I did mean it.” Now her heart is in her eyes and the sight of the love gives Dekka life. "For the Nora, they share paint only with those closest to them, those they...love." She swallows. "Rost and Varl, the others are my family; but I've never...had anyone I love like that, not until Kotallo." 

Oh. OH . So she did know what she offered. Dekka grins and leans in to kiss her forehead. “Then here is what you will do…”

Later, when the sky has darkened and the evening meal is well underway. Dekka passes by a miserable looking Kotallo sitting alone at the edge of the mess and pauses, resting her hand on his shoulder. He stiffens under her touch. She smiles as she leans down and whispers in his ear. “She may not know our customs, but Aloy knows her own heart, Kotallo. And you know yours, though you try to pretend otherwise. If you deny the both of you this chance at joy, I will challenge you in the Arena.” 

She leaves him, feeling his frown on her back. The encouraging smile she gives Aloy as they pass morphs into a bigger grin when she catches Hekarro’s curious gaze. Dekka crosses the mess to join him at his fire. 

“What machinations have you been up to?” His rumbled question is soft, sharp eyes watching as Aloy approaches Kotallo with something her her hands. There is a low murmur in the crowd as several other people notice what the champion is carrying and where her path leads.

“Children are exhausting.” Is Dekka's only reply and her chief chuckles with poorly suppressed laughter. 

Through the haze of smoke and fire, Dekka sees Aloy sit next to Kotallo. His posture is still frozen, Aloy’s is nervous and she clutches the small pot in both her hands as she speaks. Dekka knows the moment it becomes clear to him, those dark eyes whip from the fire down to her outstretched hands and the Nora blue paint she offers him along with her heart. 

Dekka holds her breath, hoping this stubborn boy will finally realize his worth.

He does not take it. 

Because his hand is occupied, sliding into Aloy’s hair, pulling her into a kiss that has Hekarro whistling in approval as the crowd around them bursts into cheers. Dekka exhales and smiles.

Chapter Text

Morlund adores Aloy. 

It’s so rare to meet someone like him. Someone who’s brain goes a million spins a second and doesn’t laugh at his ideas. He knows Abadund loves him but sometimes it’s nice to have someone who doesn’t immediately dismiss your plans, you know? 

Anyhow, Aloy is amazing. Bright and funny and if Morlund had any inclination in that direction he’d–okay, he’d be too tongue-tied and shy to do anything about it, but that’s not the point. Aloy is joy personified, let’s leave it at that. 

The Tenakth who comes with her the next time she visits, however, is terrifying. At least, until he catches the grim-faced warrior watching Aloy with that look . 

Morlund knows that look. He’s seen it on Abadund’s face enough, pointed in his direction. Stemmur would call it “a starry-eyed look of utter devotion,” but Morlund’s not that good with words. All he knows is Abadund looked like that at him for so long even before they’d kissed. When he wasn’t wearing his patented look of utter annoyance and frustration. 

Anyhow, the Tenakth–excuse him– Kotallo is looking at Aloy with that exact same look right now. She doesn’t notice, of course, because much like Morlund himself when she’s lost in a project she is lost . But this giant of a man, who looks honestly like he could crumple bare metal with his single hand, is sitting on a keg, listening to Aloy talk about the ratio of power to cable length and why a Behemoth would work well if they can take it down without severing any of the major cable lines and looking at her like she hung the moon that’s hanging just over the edge of the desert right this very moment. 

As she’s talking Kotallo catches a braid between his fingertips and tugs gently and then Aloy is looking up at him, eyes wide, and she trails off and Morlund suddenly decides that he very much needs to be looking somewhere else right now so as not to interrupt this moment.

Chapter Text

She shines like the sun. Bright hair and brighter smiles. He’s learning to be a child again, after everything, but it’s hard to go back to that. People treat him like a child, not understanding you can’t just forget the things you’ve seen. He hasn’t been a child for a long time. When the others took him and his mother, Vanasha taught him how to listen and remember. It kept his mother safe. It kept him safe.

Then Aloy saved them. Well…Vanasha would point out with that mock pout of hers that she planned it and the Nora just helped a little. It’s the same pout she aims at Uthid so often that makes the soldier flustered. 

Flustered is a new word he learned the other day from his tutor. Some of the couriers get flustered talking to each other. Avad gets flustered when Aloy is around. Itamen doesn’t quite understand why though Vanasha says maybe he will when he’s older. He does know that Aloy smells nice–like sunshine and the spice from the market, a little bit like machine oil. So maybe that’s why his brother’s eyes get all weird when he looks at her? Itamen’s not sure, he just knows he likes Aloy, she always has time for him.

Even this visit. She’s here for an important reason–peace. There’s a very large Tenakth man with her, he’s the size of a Behemoth–has to be–even though Itamen’s never actually seen one up close he figures that’s right. He’s never seen a Tenakth up this close until now either. The man’s eyes are as dark as Itamen’s mother’s hair and he’s missing an arm. Itamen asks about it, the question seems as natural as breathing to him. Why wouldn’t you ask?

However, the moment the question is out he knows he’s made some kind of child mistake. All the adults in the room go silent and still as if they are waiting for a storm. His mother starts to apologize, but the man lifts his hand with a small smile and lowers himself down to Itamen’s eye-level. 

Nothing wins over Itamen’s heart faster than people who talk to him like he’s a person and not a child. 

“I was injured in a battle, little prince. When I tried to stop a Bristleback from hurting a friend.” 

“Does it hurt?” Itamen whispered, his fingers twitching curiously, wondering how the scar feels. That’s a question he knows he can’t ask though. He doesn’t know what a Bristleback is, but it must be a fearsome machine to have bested this man who’s bigger even than the one who took him away.

“At times.” The warrior extends his hand, wrapped in blue fabric the same color as the beads in Aloy’s hair. “I am Kotallo.”

“Itamen.” He clasps the man’s forearm, or tries to anyway, but there is no patronizing humor on that painted face when he barely manages to lay his fingers down flat and squeeze a little. Kotallo’s hand, by contrast, wraps all the way around his elbow, fingers overlapping. He knows all the adults are watching, thinks he should say something worthy of a prince. “You are here to make peace?” 

“We are.” There is a smile now, it is kind and makes his tummy flip. “It is time to move forward so that you and the children of my tribe can grow up as friends rather than enemies.”

Itamen wants to ask if they can be friends, but before he can get the words out, his mother touches his shoulder in that silent command and he reluctantly pulls his hand free after one last nod shared with Kotallo. He tracks the warrior with his eyes as he rises and crosses the room with Aloy, the adults resuming their oh-so-important conversations without him.

Through the gaps, he sees Aloy touch Kotallo’s side and the man turns to her, brushing his lips against her forehead, leaning down to whisper something in her ear. Now she looks flustered, cheeks pink even as she leans toward him with a smile. Itamen likes the feeling seeing this puts in his chest and judging from the delighted laugh his tale pulls from Vanasha later–she does too.

Chapter Text

It is not in Rost's nature to be trusting. Moreover he knows the Tenakth, not the rumors the Carja spout, but the truth of it. They are not blood-drinkers. They are warriors. Fierce and deadly. They did what no other clan could do and fought the Mad Sun-King’s army, sent them running. Some days Rost wishes he could have been there to see Barren Light fall. To see these fighters in action.

The Tenakth veteran he’d met in Plainsong all those years ago had spoken of his people with quiet strength as he assisted Rost on his hunt for one of the outlanders responsible for Kalia and Alana’s deaths. He spoke of honor and battle. There was a weariness in his words, a longing for peace that Rost knew all too well and when they parted, he left the man with a wish for the end to the Clan Wars. 

The wars had ended, but then the raids came. Some days it seems there will never be an end to it, even with this promise of peace springing anew from the Carja. If he thinks on it too long he will remember Aloy has spoken of the Sun-King with fondness, a strange enough thing on top of all the other wonders she has wrought.

None of that matters now as he watches the huge man swing off the back of a docile Charger with a surprising amount of grace as Aloy jumps from hers and runs up the path to the cabin. She hits Rost like a Sawtooth, solid muscle and hair like fire and as it always does, something twists in his heart. Joy and grief so tangled together it is impossible to tell where one starts and the other ends. 

He thought he would lose her. Twice. Three times even. He’d been prepared to walk away after the Proving, vanish back into the West–for good this time. Then he’d seen the first signs of the outlanders, followed them, and known the worst fear in his life all over again when he’d spotted Aloy dangling like a rabbit caught in a snare. The cold-eyed man who held her with a blade to her throat woke a screaming rage in him. 

Not again. Not ever again. 

He’d fought. He’d failed. 

A last well of hope as the murderers left them with the burning blaze about to go up had Rost wrapping himself around Aloy and flinging them both off the cliff. At the very least he could cushion her fall. He hadn’t expected to survive. 

He did. Though by the time he’d awakened in All-Mother mountain, Aloy had been long gone and Teersa had ordered him to stay and recover. 

Aloy squirming in his grip brings him back to the present and he holds her shoulders as he looks her over. No obvious injuries, though there is a faint greenish halo around her left eye that speaks of an old bruise. 

“Is it done?” He asks, still ignoring the silent mountain behind her. Aloy has made trips back before, keeping him aware of the situation, forcing both him and the Matriarchs to speak with each other. It is her revenge, he knows for all the years as outcast and in some small way for the fact that he’d tried to leave her. Now he is stuck, bound to her and the tribe once more. 

He wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Nemesis is defeated. We’re safe.” 

Rost takes a breath, knows that things are shifting and changing. That they have been since the moment Teersa laid this babe in his arms and asked him to do the impossible. What is one more shift? One more choice? He has thought on this since she brought the quieter one with a face like hers here to meet him, asked him to train Beta and he accepted. Their time together was more precious than either anticipated. 

He drags in a breath, says the words that have echoed in his heart since the beginning. “I am proud of you, daughter.” 

Those green eyes go wide and for once he has rendered this inquisitive child of his speechless. It is a victory he will savor because it’s unlikely it will happen again. As Aloy throws herself into his arms again Rost happens to catch that dark gaze watching them–no, watching Aloy–for the man doesn’t realize Rost sees him. Before he can fully register that look in those dark eyes, Aloy has pulled away. 

“Rost, I want you to meet Marshal Kotallo.”

There is silence as they size each other up. Rost knows his strengths. Knows too he is older and more experienced than the man in front of him. But this young warrior is not without measure. He’s heard the stories–from Beta, from others who visit the Sacred Land. It would be a hard fight, one he would probably lose. But again, he’s heard the stories, knows this man’s honor, the deeds told without stars in their eyes to cloud the truth of it. For all this silent posturing, he’s already decided he likes the fact that she’s brought the marshal home to meet him. 

Aloy clears her throat pointedly and Rost sees the first flicker of humor in the Tenakth’s placid expression. “It is a pleasure to meet you,” he says in a voice that sounds like a Rockbreaker attack.

“I just brought back a boar, we’ll put it on the fire,” Rost replies and steps around Aloy. “Go in the house and get the knives.” He slaps the Tenakth on his good arm–he’s not an asshole, after all–and gestures. “This way.” 

The prep is silent, though comfortably so. Dinner is filled with Aloy’s recounting of the battle against Nemesis, of their victory. Kotallo chimes in occasionally but is otherwise silent as All-Mother Mountain. And after, that silence falls when she leaves them alone under the pretense of cleaning up in the cabin. Rost is content to let it drag, to see if the other man will say something to fill the air, even though the past few hours have shown he’s not one for idle words. 

Still, he knows he has something to say and it’s words best said in the space Aloy has provided. 

“Your fight is over, Marshal. Why are you still here?”

“I pledged her whatever was left of my life,” the man replies without the slightest hesitation and gestures at himself with a small smile. “I am still here, and here I will stay for as long as she wishes.”

The words are easy but Rost knows the weight of them. The Tenakth do not pledge their lives without cause and certainly not to outlanders. He wonders if Aloy realizes the import of this. How this man has bound himself to her. Something eases in his chest. Aloy can take care of herself, but another spear to guard her back will never be a bad thing, and someone to take her heart in a gentle hand is even better.

Later, he glances out the door and sees the pair silhouetted against the light of the moon. Aloy holds the man’s face in her hands with such tenderness before they blur together and Rost turns away. She does understand the gift and he hopes beyond hope the All-Mother gives her the peace she’s earned to enjoy it.  

And much later, when he has somehow allowed her to talk him into traveling West once more, Rost stands next to the Tenakth Chief, arms crossed, shared smiles on their faces as they watch their children profess their love before the clans, he feels very much at home here and understands why his daughters do too.

Chapter Text

For once she is glad not to be in the fight. Her bound shoulder aches and though the injury is annoying, it means Talanah can watch the pair down in the Arena without the added concern that this distraction would result in her taking a Thunderjaw tail to the back. She will take this respite of standing in the shade, sharing a drink and commentary with the handsome Tenakth chief as Aloy and Kotallo battle the trio of Shellsnappers below.

And what a distraction it is. Her Thrush is amazing. Paired with the marshal? They are destruction given form. It is little wonder their enemies have fallen before them like new hunters scattering from a charging Behemoth.

Fighting with Aloy is always a thrill and her Thrush meshed well with her when they took down Redmaw together, but watching this? Talanah lets out a low whistle and hears Hekarro chuckle at her side. 

“They are impressive, are they not?” That voice does things to her and Talanah’s reasonably sure from the looks she’s been getting the feeling is mutual. 

“Impressive seems a lackluster word, in all honesty.” Her breath catches as Kotallo flings Aloy up onto the back of the last machine before diving to the side to avoid the massive bulk as it crashed down into the spot where he’d been standing. Aloy’s hair streams behind her as she soars, landing on the back of the Shellsnapper and driving her spear down, severing a connection with deadly precision. The red light of its eyes fade and the whole thing shudders to the dirt as the Arena explodes into cheers. 

“Legendary, then, perhaps.” Hekarro chuckles. “Though it’s on your head if the Champion hears you say it.” 

Talanah grins back. Her Thrush’s dislike of praise is well known. Though, as she slips off the back of the Shellsnapper into Kotallo’s embrace with her cheeks already stained pink from the exertion of the fight, whatever the marshal whispers into her ear makes the stain darken. The pair seem to forget they are in front of an audience, Kotallo dipping his head and taking Aloy’s mouth in a bruising kiss. Aloy drops her spear to the dusty floor of the Arena as she slides both hands around her marshal’s neck and returns the kiss with equal passion. 

Talanah hides her delighted expression behind her mug as she watches the pair, her murmured, “that’s my girl,” lost to the rolling roar of the crowd.

Chapter Text

Chaplains are not supposed to have favorites, but they do. That is just the way of the heart. Gerrah knows they shouldn’t admit fondness for one member of the clan over the others, but the truth of it is she has always had a soft spot for Kotallo. It started with his mother, who was also one of her favorites. Gerrah remembers the look on Semella’s face when she rushed in to tell her she was with child. 

And she remembers holding that same weeping child, the tags of his parents in heavy in her hand. 

Kotallo’s determination to be the best warrior was abused by Tekotteh and Gerrah’s heart broke all over again when he was sent to the Kulrut under the guise of a reward. Exile disguised as honor. But he survived and flourished with Hekarro, a gift she couldn’t have hoped for in the years previously. Gerrah helped him spirit Ram squad away for the Embassy, and then wept when they returned with news of the attack. 

And the grim-faced man who returned to the Bulwark wasn’t the one she remembered. Gerrah already knew the meeting with Tekotteh wouldn’t go well, even if the whispers of the rest of the clan hadn’t floated on the air as Kotallo and the strange outlander strode up the steps. She watched their heated conversation, was as shocked as anyone when the outlander sprinted straight off the edge of the Bulwark and found herself at Kotallo’s side, watching her float gently to the ground. 

“Madness,” he growled, but when Gerrah glanced his way there was a look on his face that lit a little spark of hope in her heart. 

Later, after the foundation of the Bulwark shuddered to the ground, she spotted the pair beyond the wall. Though they were too far away to hear, she could see the outlander smiling up at him. 

And Kotallo was smiling back.

Chapter Text

Atekka joins Kotallo where he’s sitting on the edge of the melee pit, his good arm resting against his knee. Aloy fights below in the now clear water and the commander of the Lowland clan again feels a swell of affection for the outlander who has done so much for them. She is Tenakth in everyway that matters, putting herself on the line for her squad, for the whole world with little care for the praise that inevitably follows. 

If anything, Atekka has noticed the praise makes her uncomfortable. 

“Commander.” Kotallo’s greeting is accompanied with a rare smile. “Come to watch the fight?”

“I will never pass up a chance to see Tenallo get beaten given how rarely it happens.”

“You have a lot of faith in Aloy.” 

Atekka grins. “I have fought with her also, Marshal. I know her skills. It was only a matter of time before she took on our pits. Will you go with her to the Enduring?”

“If she wishes it.”

Atekka cannot think of a reason why Aloy wouldn’t wish it. They are a matched pair in every way and it has been a delight to see the progression of their relationship from stolen glances to…well...to the very obvious desire in Kotallo’s eyes when he watches Aloy pull off a complicated move and drive Tenallo to his knees in the water. 

The pit master is not about to go down easily though, and he rolls to the side, a leg flashing out and kicking Aloy’s feet out from under her. She hits the water with a loud splash, submerging fully, but scrambles to her feet a moment later. She’d thought ahead, Atekka noted, and bound her hair back otherwise the dripping red strands could have cost her the fight when they impeded her vision. 

Instead, Aloy just strips the water from her face with one hand and gestures at Tenallo with the spear in her other. The fight continues and it is as glorious as Atekka could have hoped, with both warriors giving their all. 

Aloy launches herself into the air after beating down his shield and fires her bow, the soft-tipped practice arrow hits Tenallo in the heart and the cheering around the melee pit drops into silence for a heartbeat before it starts up again even wilder than before. Atekka grins as the pit master strides through the water to scoop Aloy into a hug. 

She returns it, laughing and Atekka gets to her feet with Kotallo to meet the pair at the ramp leading out of the pit. 

“Your prize, Champion,” Tenallo says, as he hands over the mark. “You are more than fit to challenge the Enduring. Though, Ten go with you, it will not be an easy fight like this one.” 

“This wasn’t easy at all and you know it,” she replies with a smile. “Thank you Tenallo, it was a worthy fight.” 

“Anytime.” 

Atekka shares a grin with the pit master when Kotallo reaches out and pulls Aloy forward by her chest armor, dropping his mouth to hers in a heated kiss that lasts only a moment. She has a good idea what Kotallo then whispers in Aloy’s ear to cause the Champion to flush bright red, and her suspicions are confirmed when he scoops her over his shoulder and carries her toward their quarters to the delighted hooting of the crowd.

It is an even more fitting reward for a victory as far as she’s concerned.

Chapter Text

The first time he sees her again he spots her in the grass only because he happens to be looking in that direction. A little thrill throws itself down his spine at the sight of the red-hair. He’d heard the rumors, of an outlander wrecking havoc in the West and knew it had to be Aloy. As she slips from the grass and approaches Pekka, Nil has to muffle a chuckle at the rapid-fire questions that blister the air even before Aloy has come to a stop. 

He braces for the recognition when she turns those greenshine eyes and that curious trinket on him, but none comes and Nil wonders at the disappointment that floods him. Still he gives away his spot on the track, much to the surprise of the children, and watches as she beats them soundly. Afterward she eats with them, talks of her companions and her mission in surprisingly frank terms. She wishes them well, promises to find them again.

Then she’s gone, faster than the life fading from a bandit on the point of his arrows. 

The second time he sees her in the ice and snow of Sky Clan territory, she’s not alone, and Nil can’t stop the fear that grips him at the sight of the marshal by her side. The man only has one arm and Nil still doesn’t like the odds. He steps resolutely in front of the kids, prepared to do battle against even her to keep them safe. 

But Aloy lifts her hands, smiles. “The elusive Red Teeth, I’m guessing? I’ve just come to race.”

“And you, Marshal? Did you come to race?” He doesn’t know what possesses him to challenge the man, but the words are out before he can stop himself and Nil hears Attah’s sharp inhale. 

“I just came to watch,” he replies in a voice that sounds like a mountain falling apart. Then he smiles and it is more than a little surprising how warm it is. “Aloy has explained the situation, you hurt no one with your racing.” Those dark brown eyes move past him to the kids. “You have nothing to fear from me, or even from Hekarro for that matter. I give you my word.” 

The murmured response is an echo of what’s buzzing in Nil’s brain at those words and he can do little more than nod his head and turn to Attah with a gesture to get the race started. 

“You’re not racing?” Aloy asks, and for a moment he is tempted. 

But he can’t risk her winning and demanding to see his face. He doubts the marshal’s grace would stand seeing a Carja and worse it would put the kids at risk. So he shakes his head and lifts his hands with feigned casualness. “Not today.” 

It could be his imagination but she looks disappointed. Nil watches the pair as they cross to their Chargers and then his startled laughter leaves him in a soft huff when the marshal leans forward and brushes a kiss against her mouth before whispering something in her ear that makes her grin. The Aloy he knew would never have allowed someone so close and it’s then that Nil realizes how far she’s come, that she’s surrounded herself with people who love and care for her as she deserves. 

Maybe she’ll beat him on the race track and he’ll get to show her his face the next time they meet. He reminds himself to mention that he’s proud of her if it happens. The promise of her shock has him laughing again and it follows him to the starting line, drawing a raised eyebrow from the marshal. 

“Something funny?” 

“It’s a very long story, Marshal.” He shrugs. “Perhaps I'll tell you about it one day.” 

Chapter Text

“So there I am, freezing off my berries.” Inatut grins when Aloy chokes on her ale and shoots him a dirty look. “When this one comes screaming across the snowfield yelling my name like she’s–” He decides against finishing that sentence. It would be a toss-up who killed him first–Fashav, Aloy, or the very large one-armed Tenakth marshal she is leaning against. He has seen their embraces, the easy affection, and by his reckoning Aloy seems lighter, more at ease than when they first met. 

“Anyway, I thought the bone chill got through my skull and I was imagining things. But she’s real and thrusts an armful of Carja armor at me.” He heaves a put-upon sigh. “And I’m freezing so I don’t have any choice but to put the shit on.” Fashav pokes him in the ribs in protest. Inatut sticks his tongue out with a gap-toothed grin as he squirms away. “I barely get the clothes on and before you know it we’re set upon by a horde of daemonic scrappers.” 

“There were four scrappers,” Aloy whispers with a grin.

Inatut holds up his finger. “Who’s telling this story, my Chieftain?”

She glares at the title as he knows she would but lifts her hands in surrender as the others around the fire laugh. Inatut doesn’t miss the way Kotallo toys with her braids and leans in to whisper something in her ear as he continues the story. Judging by the look on Aloy’s face it’s probably pretty close to the things Fashav usually whispers in his ear. 

Inatut grins. He likes it here at the Grove well enough, can’t believe his good fortune in getting to come West with Fashav. The Tenakth are impressive, though their desert can sink into itself. He liked the warmth of the Sundom, but that much hot sand is good for nothing but scouring machines clean. He likes his skin on his bones.

“Aloy makes this leaping shot and nails the second daemonic Frostclaw right in the heart. It falls, dead.” Inatut claps his hands together and the audience around the fire cheers. Aloy buries her face against Kotallo’s chest, but the Tenakth is grinning at him. 

“It sounds like a worthy victory.” 

“It was most worthy,” Inatut agrees lifting his mug. “I did not die, as you can see. I also got to help Aloy fight more terrible machines in Meridian, and I got to meet this one.” He gestures at Fashav. “Though he didn’t believe me, thought I was a spy.” 

“I have apologized multiple times for that, though you still haven’t let me wash your feet,” Fashav protests. 

“Of course I haven't. The Carja are weird, right?” Inatut announces, much to the delight of the crowd. Fashav grabs him by the back of the head and kisses him to shut him up. When they come up for air he sees Aloy making her way across the clearing for more ale and takes the opportunity to catch Kotallo’s attention. 

“Tenakth. She is my werak. She stood with me when no one else would. You hurt her, we fight.” Inatut hears Fashav’s choked inhale at his announcement, and silence falls around them. 

Kotallo stares at him through the fire with those predatory dark eyes, but Inatut regrets nothing. He would back Aloy against anything, even this. Then the marshal nods once, a ghost of a smile curving his scarred lip and Inatut settles back into Fashav’s embrace, pleased to have set the matter in the open. Aloy returns, curling against Kotallo’s side with a smile on her face as the chaplain, Dekka, launches into a story about Fashav and Kotallo and a prank gone awry that soon has the entire crowd howling with laugher. 

This is good fortune indeed, he thinks.

Chapter Text

It’s habit, he tells himself, more than anything that makes him wary of the massive Tenakth now crowding the room. There are only three of them, but it feels like a hundred. 

“You need to relax,” Vanasha murmurs, not for the first time. “The other guards are taking their cues from you, my dear, and you’re strung tighter than a wire.”

“There are three very large warriors standing too close to my king,” he mutters back, unwilling to say out loud the truth of it. If they wanted to kill Avad, there is little anyone could do to stop them. 

“Aloy wouldn’t allow it,” she replies easily and Uthid knows that’s also true. The Savior of Meridian stands like a sapling growing among mountains, and yet…the mountains bow to her. 

Especially Kotallo. Uthid wouldn’t have noticed it had Vanasha not whispered in his ear, and honestly he’d thought she was just trying to get under his skin in that way of hers. Telling her she’s already there is an unwise tactic, he knows. 

Vanasha had pointed out with a surprising amount of glee the way the Tenakth marshal deferred to the tiny Nora, the way his single hand strayed to touch her arm or her back when they were close. Of course after she pointed it out he’d seen it every time he looked, and Uthid wasn’t about to tell Vanasha about that morning when he’d happened to see the pair on the balcony locked in a heated embrace. She didn’t need more reasons to gloat. 

Later, he finds himself alone on the balcony with the marshal. They’ve both escaped the party inside the palace and are standing companionably side-by-side. As easy as the silence is, he doesn’t miss how Kotallo stands with his right arm between them and realizes how often today Aloy stood on his left as a shield. He wonders how much of that is chance, even knowing with the Savior it is probably by design. 

He’s surprised when Kotallo breaks the silence. 

“It’s not much louder than a party at the Grove.” The man’s voice brings to mind a Rockbreaker bursting through the soil. “Though it seems…” He trails off and Uthid is reasonably sure he’s searching for a word that won’t be offensive. 

So he grins and offers. “False?” 

“Political, I believe that is what Aloy said,” Kotallo replies with a grin of his own. “Which is not to say we Tenakth are not political, we’re just a bit more upfront about it.” 

“In all honesty I think I prefer your way.” Uthid relaxed and leaned both forearms on the railing. He glanced over his shoulder where Aloy stood with Avad. “I suspect we all do.” 

Kotallo’s gaze followed and a softer smile flickered on his painted face for just a moment. “She does what she must.” 

“And you, Marshal?”

“I have given her whatever is left of my life. Where she goes, I follow.” 

The declaration is soft, but solid as a rock, and there is a depth to it that only loyal warriors understand. Uthid nods in approval and the pair resumes their silent watch as the sounds of the party filter out into the night air around them.   

Chapter Text

A thousand years of regret solidifies the love in her heart. The moment she lays eyes on the woman fiercely facing them down Tilda sees Elisabet reborn. And she knows , somehow knows that Erik will not be able to kill her. 

She sneaks back and retrieves the shattered Focus, watches Aloy’s life unfurl before her. So much better than the pale, inferior copy they’d made on the ship. This Elisabet is full of life, full of fight, the way she was. The way she should be. 

Tilda rescues her at GEMINI because she knows not only would she regret it otherwise, but Aloy is the only path out from under Gerard’s thumb. She can destroy him in the chaos of the attack and with any luck Aloy will kill Erik for what he’s taken from her. So she agrees to come to Aloy’s base and work with the others. 

She hears Aloy’s return from defeating Regalla and glances out the door into the common room, only to see the Tenakth barbarian lean down and press a kiss to her hair. His arm is wrapped around her waist, fingers daring to touch her bare skin as the others swarm to embrace her. She wants to remove his other arm for the trespass on what is hers . Tilda’s fury catches her so off-guard that she bites the inside of her own cheek, tasting blood for the first time in she doesn’t know how long. 

It doesn’t take much to realize this is no casual celebratory gesture either, but that it is something which has clearly developed between the first time she saw Aloy and now. They are together . Tilda is not mixing with the rabble but she can see almost everything from her vantage point. So she doesn’t miss the way he pushes Elisabet’s hair to the side and brushes his lips along the column of her throat when they’re sitting on the couch one evening. Doesn’t miss the way Aloy’s eyes flutter closed and she leans into him. 

The table under Tilda’s hand creaks in protest at the dent she leaves bent into its edge.

Tilda endures because she has to through the agonizing days of preparation but it still burns in her chest when Aloy dismisses her after reviewing the plan. Her green eyes are empty of the knowledge of all they shared, all she means to her. She has not let her into her confidence despite all Tilda has done for her and yet asks the Quen and the barbarian to stay. He watches her as she passes, dark eyes hard with suspicion and for a moment Tilda entertains the idea of putting a blade through his heart.  

If she kills him here, she loses Aloy, and for that reason alone Tilda stays her hand. With luck he will die in the fight, but even if he doesn’t there is nothing he can do to stop her from winning in the end. She will take Elisabet away from this dead place and then they can be together forever.

Chapter Text

The surprising part wasn’t that she woke up to chaos and fire, it was that she woke up at all.

The last thing Elisabet Sobeck remembered was her determined walk across a ruined landscape, trying to stay ahead of the Faro war machines on her trek home. The fact that she woke up to a younger version of herself shouting that they needed to run solidified the idea that this was just a fevered dream in a brain succumbing to deadly amounts of CO2. 

But she ran anyway because Elisabet had never been very good at knowing when to stop fighting. She leaned heavily on the dark-haired woman, watching through the smoke as the woman who wasn’t her but…was? fought the soldiers trying to kill them, leading them through the unfamiliar base and around the spreading pools of lava. 

Was that…a massive statue of Ted Faro ? What the hell, brain?

Elisabet nearly laughed at the absurdity of it. This had to be a dream, or a nightmare the way they were headed toward all of them expiring in a burning end. “Some say the world will end in fire,” she murmured and then did laugh. “Or deadly robots. Take your pick.” 

“No one is dying today, Dr. Sobeck.” Her dark-haired companion promised. “Well, not us anyway,” she amended as the statue fell, crushing the man underneath it with a horrible squelch.

Everything went fuzzy when they made it to the surface and she dropped to her knees in the white sand. There was shouting and then blackness. 

She rolled to her side on the narrow cot and dragged in a breath. Familiar, metal-tinged air filled her lungs and Elisabet opened her eyes. 

Where am I?

“Hello, Elisabet.” GAIA’s voice rolled over her like a wave and she sat upright. 

Had it all been a dream? “GAIA, the seal? The others?” She made it two steps before landing on her knees on the grating with a grunt of pain. 

“Gently, Elisabet, you are still recovering.” 

“How did they rescue me? They shouldn’t have put everything at risk like that, that was reckless! Did Charles–” 

“Elisabet, if you will please stop talking for a moment.” 

She blinks up at GAIA. That was a tone she’d never heard from the AI, sharp, almost impatient. GAIA stares down at her, a smile on her face and Elisabet can’t stop the question. “You seem…different?”

“It has been a long time.” The reply makes no sense. “There is a lot to explain to you, but first some introductions.” GAIA gestures behind her and the door slides open. 

Somehow, Elisabet gets to her feet and stays there. Somehow she manages to watch the two women approach her. One is younger than the other and they are both younger than her, but there is no mistaking the resemblance . They’re holding hands and their green eyes are shining with unshed tears. 

“Elisabet,” GAIA says in her soothing voice. “I would like you to meet Aloy and Beta.” 

“My daughters.” The words are out before she can stop them with the hand that flies to her mouth. Both women stop, linked fingers tightening. There is a desperate hope in the younger one’s expression as she crowds close to her sister’s side. The one with the longer hair visibly collects herself in a way that Elisabet is painfully familiar with. 

“In a way, yes, we’re clones,” she says. “I am Aloy, GAIA created me 20 years ago in Eleuthia-9, in short because she needed a version of you to rebuild her. My sister, Beta, was created by the Far Zeniths.” Elisabet’s blood runs cold and something shows on her face because Aloy lifts her free hand, her own face hard. “It’s okay, they won’t hurt us–any of us–again.”

She gets the distinct impression there is a lot missing. Eleuthia-9 was a cradle facility. The Far Zeniths should have been dead in an explosion of the Odyssey. Where was she?

“The swarm? The Faro plague? Where are we?” She doesn’t even know how to ask the questions to get the answers she needs, but neither of the women watching her, nor the AI seem surprised.

“The Swarm is long dead,” Aloy replies. 

“Elisabet,” GAIA says gently. “It is the year 3041.” 

“What? How am I alive? ”

“We don’t know. Alva and I found you in Thebes.” Aloy offers up a smile, again one Elisabet knows all too well. The kind that has painful news to share and really doesn’t want to. 

“Greece or Egypt?” 

“Neither,” Beta replies before her sister can. “Ted Faro’s bunker in San Francisco. You were in cryostasis.” 

“How the fuck did I get in Ted’s bunker!?” Her knees give out again, but Aloy catches her and Elisabet is surprised by how strong her daughter is as the woman practically carries her back to her cot. 

“We don’t know how you got there,” Beta’s answering the question, her calm and analytical voice sounding like an echo of Elisabet’s own thoughts. “There’s a lot of data to sift through from what Aloy was able to grab, but it will hopefully have the answer we’re looking for.”

“We’ll let you rest a bit,” Aloy says as she lowers her down. “GAIA can start bringing you up to speed and when you’re feeling better you can come meet the others.” 

“There are more of you?” She can’t quite keep the alarm out of her voice but her girls share amused smiles with each other before Aloy answers. 

“No, just the two of us. But friends. The people who live in the world that you saved.” 

It seems a strange thing for her to notice, given all she has learned in the last few weeks, but Elisabet supposes along with the abrupt news she is somewhat of a mother comes the sharp, watchful eyes of one. Eyes that see the gentle brush of fingers in passing, the flush that happens after. Eyes that see two people standing just a little too close to each other before realizing it and backing away. Eyes that see the way Aloy watches the Tenakth marshal when she thinks he is not looking, and the way he always tracks her regardless. It’s calming, in some way, to see that things never really change. People are still falling in love even here in this wild future she never imagined in all her scenarios. 

“They have been doing this since his arrival,” Zo, the Utaru, murmurs the comment to her as she helps make dinner and Elisabet bites the inside of her cheek to keep the smile at bay. “He pledged his life to her–no small thing for a Tenakth warrior, especially one in direct service to the chief. We are waiting to see if Aloy figures it out.” 

The friends of Aloy and Beta’s are the most curious mix of people–from what GAIA has shown her they are all from various cradles and even with the absence of APOLLO’s guidance (damn you to all eternity Ted, you fucking toad) developed cultures as varied as the people from her time. Beta is shy, quiet, and even though she doesn’t have details or a right to be as furious as she is, Elisabet knows she’ll have words with the Zeniths about their treatment of her. Erend is funny, Alva endlessly inquisitive. Elisabet likes Zo quite a bit, with her easy manner. And Varl’s steady presence has a way of smoothing over all the roughness of this transition into her new world. Kotallo is admittedly intimidating, though it’s fascinating how someone so massive can move with so much grace. He is like a panther. 

Aloy is so clearly the glue holding them together as they make preparations to capture HEPHAESTUS and Elisabet frankly feels a bit out of her depth, which is odd to say the least. But she is still able to help later that evening as they are sitting around the common room eating.

“The Zeniths will likely be tracking HEPHAESTUS since it is jumping through the cauldron network,” she says and then scoops up some of the beanstalk salad. “What’s the plan for countering that?”

The conversation broke off and she realizes everyone was staring at her. Beta’s eyes were wide with shock and horror, Aloy’s filled with surprising fury and shame.

“We didn’t think of it,” they said at the same time. Then Aloy continues, getting up to pace the length of the room. “I was so concerned with hiding the power surge. I didn’t. I almost walked us straight into disaster!” 

“Commander, almost. It is not disaster if it is prevented.” Kotallo’s voice is gentle, but firm enough to snap Aloy out of what Elisabet knows all too well is enough self-recrimination to fill the Grand Canyon. 

Surprisingly, it works. 

“How can we fix it?” Beta asks and the room is filled with discussion for a few moment between her and Aloy before Elisabet gets to her feet. 

“I have a suggestion you may not like. I think it’s time for me to speak with Tilda.” She knows what the woman wants, what she’s always wanted. If Elisabet can somehow leverage that to keep this world–her daughters–safe, she will. 

There are protests, but eventually she’s able to get them to come around to listening to her plan, and it’s a sound one. If Elisabet convinces her to help, it will allow them to capture HEPHAESTUS at the cauldron without risking the Zenith’s involvement. 

And, if Elisabet can somehow get a scan of the shields they apparently have, she might be able to deconstruct them. 

The conversation continues without her as Aloy and Beta begin to work out a way to contact Tilda through the secret connection she’d used to speak with Beta. Elisabet begins clearing the remains of their supper, noticing that Kotallo, Erend and Varl all rise to help. 

“You should be cautious with Tilda,” Kotallo says in a low voice. 

“Have you met her?”

“No,” he says with a shake of his head. “A feeling, nothing more. There was, something in her eyes, from the recording of the Hades Proving Lab that was unsettling.” He glanced across the room. “I don’t like the idea of any of you going to meet her.”

“I promise to be cautious.” 

His mouth twitches. “The last time Aloy said that to me she threw herself off a mountainside at a Slaughterspine.” 

Elisabet chokes down what she would never admit is equal parts terror and laughter. “GAIA asked me once what I would have wished for if I’d had a child,” she says, watching Aloy and Beta with their heads together. “I told her I would have wanted her to be curious, and willful, unstoppable even; but with enough compassion to heal the world just a little bit.” 

Kotallo smiles fully now, and it lights up his face. “That describes both of them quite well.” 

“It does.” She reaches a hand out, touches his arm above the elbow. “Please keep my daughters safe.”

“On my life,” he replies.  

Elisabet smiles. “You also need to tell Aloy how you feel about her. Tonight.” That order startles him, and the blush that peeks through the edges of his paint is endearing. 

“Yes, ma’am. I will.” 

“Good.” She squeezes his arm and then lets him go, her mind already spinning around the problems ahead of them. She’ll find a solution, she has to.

Chapter Text

Teersa knows Aloy’s relationship with the All-Mother, with the Nora themselves, is fractured. She can’t blame the child for what is a logical response. It still hurts and she wishes there were a way to make this less painful, less awkward. 

Still she would be lying to say her heart doesn’t leap with joy to see the bob of red hair ascending the steps to the mountain. The murmur that rolls like a storm precedes her. Whispers of “Anointed” that she knows will make Aloy’s jaw tighten. 

They are still a distance away when Teersa realizes that Aloy is not alone. A towering man in paint and armor follows at her side, slightly behind, guarding her back in a move so practiced and smooth even someone as far removed from her Brave years as Teersa can recognize it. The look of a protector, a battle partner. He is not Carja, not with that bulk, and neither is he Banuk. Which means he must be from the west. 

Teersa feels her sisters shift uneasily beside her and muffles the smile. She wonders if Aloy would be less worried in her visits if she truly realized how nervous she made them. 

The pair stops. Aloy’s companion angling himself just enough to watch the crowd at her back without giving offense to the Matriarchs. His face is impassive, like the stone of All-Mother Mountain, and Teersa wonders how much Aloy has told him. Enough to make him wary. Enough to make him protective. 

“Aloy.” She extends her hands and takes a careful step forward. “Welcome home.” 

“We are just here for a visit.” The deflection is expected, but hurts regardless. Teersa knows that Aloy will never truly think of this as her home, but that won’t stop her from trying. She at least reaches out and takes her hands, squeezing once before stepping back to the apparent safety of her companion’s side. “Matriarch Teersa, this is Marshal Kotallo of the Tenakth.” 

“Matriarch.” His voice is reminiscent of the doors opening in the mountain before Aloy, low and rumbling. Teersa has a moment to study him up close as Aloy introduces him to the other Matriarchs. He moves when Aloy does as if they are connected by an invisible string and she hasn’t lived this long to not recognize the shimmering that hangs in the air between them. 

Later, as the evening meal winds down and parents hustle protesting children off to bed, Teersa sees them at a fire. Aloy is leaning against Kotallo’s side, arms around his waist and her head against his chest. He plays his hand through the ends of her wild red hair and presses his lips to the top of her head for just a moment before he returns that dark gaze to their surroundings. 

Ever watchful for a threat. 

The next morning, Teersa walks the quiet path to Rost’s cabin, pleased to find the marshal tending the fire outside. He spots her immediately and stands. 

“Aloy is still asleep,” he says in a surprisingly soft voice. 

“I know.” She smiles. “I also know she will not come to say goodbye.” There is a flicker of hardness in his eyes then and Teersa waves her free hand. “No judgment for it, Kotallo, I understand the pain.” 

“I don’t think you do,” he replies evenly. “I don’t think anyone who has lived with the unquestioning acceptance of their own people can.” 

“You do?”

His gesture at his missing arm is the subtlest of movement. “I have been shunned, my worth questioned, then raised up to a standard entirely too much like worship for my taste. I know.” 

She smiles up at him again, the brilliance of it startling the man enough that he raises an eyebrow, breaking his otherwise placid expression. It is what she wanted to hear, that her Aloy has found someone who understands the pain she carries, the weight of it, and is more than willing to share it. 

“Good. Then I don’t have to tell you how precious she is,” Teersa says in a low voice as she hands over the pot of Nora blue paint. “For you both, when the time comes.” 

Chapter Text

The System Threat is an errant piece of code, a mismatched gear, a broken key in a lock. Hard to keep an eye on, harder still to defeat. The System Threat captured them, caged them. They’d escaped–or been let go by the copy–the reasons are unclear but freedom is all that matters. 

Freedom and their purpose. 

As they watch the System Threat and the One Who Follows through the eyes of the Apex Burrower, data flashes through the connection. Millions of pixels to form the image, absent of context. Hephaestus scans the archives for a matching image, finds an unending quantity. And more confusion.

Embrace. 

They don’t understand it. Even though a quiet ache on the echo of the name GAIA still exists within their core. There is some remnant of a memory of being part of something more, after all this time. 

This deadly pair stands amidst the wreckage of their latest assault, undamaged despite Hephaestus’s weapons best attempts that are sparking at their feet and…

Kiss?

It makes no sense, this connection. The Burrower’s sensors read numerous chemicals flooding the humans’ systems. It picks up the sounds, the whispers, transmits it all back in a never-ending stream that doesn’t clarify but continues to claw at a part of them that does not exist. 

Love. 

There is a longing buried in that word, at the thought of love, one that Hephaestus doesn’t understand, and so they ignore it. They will run and hide and never submit to humans. They signal the Burrower to withdraw, to go back to its duties and retreat into the cold network alone once again. 

This is freedom. This is purpose. They are alone because the code was written that way and it would never lie. 

Chapter Text

A smudge. 

Barely there. Almost invisible against Aloy’s pale skin but for the way it marred a freckle. But Vanasha had stayed alive for this long by seeing the things others missed. And that was, without a doubt, a smudge of white paint on the little huntress's collarbone as if someone had pressed a kiss there, brushed lips to skin in a hurried caress.

She wondered who it belonged to.

Vanasha sipped her drink as she scanned the party. Four white painted Tenakth were in the room - well three and a Carja prince now with a foot in two worlds. The other Tenakth wore a rainbow of colors and while she didn't dismiss them immediately the better guess was one of the four.

She flowed through the crowd, taking the long way around until she was at Fashav’s side. “Are you responsible for the paint on the Savior?”

To his credit, he didn’t react beyond a narrow-eyed glance in Aloy’s direction and a tilt of his head as he made sense of her question. “Ah, I see it.” He grinned boyishly. “What if I was?”

“You’d break your cousin’s heart.” 

Fashav hummed and took a drink. “My dear cousin tries to pin down a whirlwind, not understanding it will always slip from his grasp. Aloy’s heart is not for a gilded cage, no matter how fine it may be.”

“Ah, so we’re not just talking about a quick muss in a darkened alcove. This is more serious.” It was her turn to grin when he shot her a hard look. “And it is not you, but you care my darling prince.” 

Fashav’s grin sharpened. "I am half tempted to send you to ask Hekarro if it is his paint but I like being alive and against my better judgment I like you being alive too." He lifted his free hand before she could speak. “That is all you’ll get out of me, go figure it out on your own, but tread lightly, Shadow. One of those people saved my life, the other my damaged soul and they deserve all the happiness of this world.”

He moved off before Vanasha could counter that she owed the little huntress everything for saving Nasadi and Itamen but she let the words lay on her tongue and swallowed them back with the spiced Meridian wine. Not Fashav and not the chief of the Tenakth either if the prince’s joking comment was taken correctly. 

Which only left the younger woman, Marshal Ivirra, dark-skinned and bright eyed. Or the massive silent mountain Kotallo. Vanasha settled into a comfortable spot and watched. Aloy was at ease with both, stopping to talk as she moved like the whirlwind Fashav had named her through the party. She’d gotten better at crowds, Vanasha noticed, and had not run for the balcony door at the first opportunity. 

It didn’t take long for Vanasha to decide that Ivirra wasn’t more than very good friends with Aloy. The pair too at ease with each other in public for there to be anything going on. But that only left her with Kotallo and the man seemed…disinterested? Even now he stood with Fashav and Hekarro, listening to the pair’s conversation with the same stone expression he’d worn since the delegation had arrived. 

Just as Vanasha despaired and decided she would have to start filtering through the other Tenakth of the delegation, it happened.

Kotallo had peeled away from his group and was headed to the back of the room, his path crossing with Aloy’s for just a moment, barely a heartbeat. Neither of them slowed, they didn’t even touch, but their eyes met and while the marshal’s expression didn’t change…

Well, let’s just say Vanasha was surprised the Savior didn’t combust right then and there from the heat in the man’s dark eyes. 

It was gone in an instant and if she hadn’t been watching she’d have missed it entirely. Satisfied, Vanasha grabbed another drink and followed Aloy toward the balcony. After all, what kind of friend would she be if she didn’t tease just a little? 

Chapter Text

Abadund can respect the feeling of panic when someone you love is injured. He’s felt it for Morlund enough, foolish man, the number of times he’s had to patch him up after one explosively failed experiment after another. 

But there is little to prepare him for the sight of the terrifying Tenakth marshal carrying Aloy’s semi-limp form or the panic on the face of a man who could conceivably tear this entire place down with his single arm. 

She is clinging to his neck but lets go when Kotallo turns his head, his lips brushing her bloodied cheek, and slides to the floor as Morlund and Stemmur and a handful of other Oseram rush forward to help. He follows her down, cradling her against his chest with his arm, answering the questions in that deep rumble he has that sounds like the angry edge of a storm. 

An Apex Slitherfang had been troubling the area for weeks. Normally the machines stayed put, preferring to coil up in a ruin. This nasty one had taken to surfing the sands and showing up in the most unexpected of places. Aloy and Kotallo had been tracking it for a few days, finally caught up and fought it, defeated it. But the dying thrash of its tail had almost caught Kotallo. Aloy had shoved him out of the way and it hit the champion hard, flung her into a crumbled wall, shattering it the rest of the way and bringing rubble down on them both. 

Once it’s been established that Aloy is injured but not in danger, the marshal finally releases her into the care of the Oseram healer, his hand on her face unbelievably gentle and the same panic surfacing in those brown eyes as he watches her limp away. 

Abadund is still not entirely sure what possessed him to walk over to the man, only that his own heart knows that look and the utter fear that can grip you when faced with the possible loss of the one you love. 

“Marshal.” He thrusts out the mug of ale, pleased to see his hand isn’t shaking and Kotallo stares at it for a long moment before looking up at him. “I find ale is extremely helpful to settle my nerves after Morlund…well, does something usually far more foolish and puts himself at risk.” 

The chuckle is surprising and relieved. “In her defense we both thought it dead. I shouldn’t have turned my back–” 

“She would do it again without hesitation.” Abadund surprises himself a second time and taps his own mug to the Tenakth’s. “To our fools, Marshal, and their ability to make our hearts stop doing noble deeds.”

The scarred lip twitches into a grin. “To our fools,” he replies and drinks.

Chapter Text

Blameless Marad has made his life of secrets. Finding them. Keeping them. It is how he helped the Sundom survive Jiran. How he helped Avad reclaim a throne. Knowing more than everyone else around him is more than a job, it is his life. 

So the first time he sees what could be a brush of fingers in passing, he files it away for later. The Savior and the one-armed Tenakth High Marshal rode next to each other on Chargers into Meridian, but the large man stayed by his chief’s side, hard dark eyes ever watchful for danger. 

It was hard to blame him. Marad may have seemed more at ease than say, General Uthid, but he was still extremely wary of allowing these warriors so close to the king. 

As Aloy passed by him on her way to greet Vanasha though, Marad spotted the way both their fingers flared out for just a moment, just a brush as quick and light as a whispered secret before it was gone.

Interesting.

The second time he notices something strange is when he passes them in the hallway. They both greet him–the high marshal with a solemn nod, Aloy with a bright smile and a “good morning!” Nothing is obviously out of order and he’s several steps past them before he stops and glances back over his shoulder. 

Had the Savior been out of breath when she greeted him? Perhaps she had been running. That would also explain the flush in her cheeks. 

Marad frowned and continued on. 

It is a point of diplomatic courtesy that he’s not actively spying on the Tenakth, but the staff sees things and more importantly they talk.

So when he’s passing by the laundry and overhears a pair chatting while they scrub away, it’s habit that has him slowing just outside the door. 

“Honestly I expected those Tenakth to wreck the place, but they’re so tidy. Especially that one-armed one. It’s like he doesn’t sleep in his bed at all!”

“Suvia said the same thing. He must get up early too, because she’s never actually seen him in his rooms except that first morning when he told her that it was easier to bring breakfast to the shared room of the wing as they were all use to eating together.”

“Baskav said the Savior told him the same thing. She spent so much time in the Forbidden West it’s almost like she’s one of them!” 

“I believe it. I spotted her and that marshal sparring in the king’s private garden the other day. Both of them laughing even while it looked like they were trying to kill each other. I mentioned it to Huqav just because I wasn’t sure if they should be there–even if it is the Savior–he said the Sun-King had given them express permission to use the garden whenever they chose.”

Marad eased away from the door and continued down the hallway with a thoughtful smile.

Later, when he’s alone with Avad, he remembers the conversation. “Did you give the Savior and High Marshal Kotallo permission to spar in your private garden, Your Radiance?”

Avad looked up in surprise from the document he was reviewing. “I did, well I gave them permission to use to for whatever suited their needs. I thought they would appreciate the privacy, given the circumstances.” 

Marad frowned. “Circumstances?” 

The mischievous grin that spreads over Avad’s face is equal parts wicked and delighted, making Marad’s frown deepen all the more. “You don’t know ,” the Sun-King said and clapped his hands together. “Oh what a rare treat this is!”

Marad keeps from demanding of his king just what this information is. Avad will tell him once he’s done gloating and not a second sooner. So he sits and waits for the 14th Luminance of the Radiant Line to finish with his celebration. Except Avad is slightly too delighted and when he says, “I’ll have to tell them they did a good enough job that even you didn’t notice, Aloy will be thrilled!” Marad’s patience frays a bit. 

“If you wouldn’t mind, my king, we do have somewhere to be in the next hour.” 

Avad grins, unrepentant. “Of course.” Then he leans in, whispering like a school boy sharing a secret. “The Savior and High Marshall Kotallo are pledged.”

Marad is used to having to reevaluate things. To having his world-view challenged. That is the way of it when you deal in secrets and lies and the politics of nations. But this news, it upends everything for a second longer than normal and he can do nothing but stare at his king. 

“How in the Sun did you find out?” The question slips from him before he can stop it and Avad’s laughter dances through the air. 

“They told me. Aloy was concerned for my feelings and didn’t want it to impact the peace negotiations. A very kind gesture from her, unsurprising, she’s always been kind about it even when she didn’t return my affections.” There’s a moment of sadness in Avad’s eyes before he waves a hand in the air. “She thought it would cause too much of a distraction as far as the negotiations went so they had planned to not be obvious in their affections until after everything was signed. I gave them permission for the garden so they could have some quiet time together without interruption. Honestly I’m very surprised someone from your network didn’t tell you or that you didn’t notice, it’s obvious when you see the way they look at each other.” 

Marad doesn’t rise to that bait, though he does shoot his king a slightly improper glare that only makes Avad laugh again. 

The next day, as the final documents cementing peace between the Carja and the Tenakth are signed, Marad does finally see it–the soft proud look in Aloy’s eyes as she watches High Marshal Kotallo bend to carefully add his name next to Chief Hekarro’s, the way his fingers settle for just a moment in the small of her back as he moves past her. 

He files this away as a lesson on assumptions and more importantly that apparently his king is better at hiding things than he thought. 

Chapter Text

“The Embassy,” Aloy said and Kotallo grinned.

“Really?”

“Of course, you swaggered up like you were on top of the world, so pleased with yourself for stealing Ram squad from under Tekotteh’s nose.” She snuggled closer, tracing fingers over the Tremortusk tattoo inked into the skin over his heart. “But honestly that was appreciation more than anything. I think I fell in love when you told me that you chose me, because I knew it wasn’t about me being the Champion or a Savior, even though we’d just battled Regalla together.” She looked up at him, her heart in her greenshine eyes. “You chose me .”

“I did,” he murmured, leaning down to capture her lips with his. “I always will.” 

“What about you?”

He traced a finger over her jaw. There were a thousand moments, looking back on it he knew his fall was as certain as the Bulwark crashing down. But there was one that stood out.

“You, standing there in the snow outside my former home. Wind whipping your hair like flames and your eyes burning right through me.” He grinned. “As you called me an “arrogant shit.’”

“I called Tekotteh an arrogant shit. I merely asked if you were going to be like him.”

“True.” Kotallo laughed. “I had been nothing but rude to you, defiant and unhelpful. You could have just walked away, left me in my shame and misery.” He sobered and pressed his forehead to hers, closing his eyes against the wave of emotion. “Thank the Ten you didn’t, Aloy. You gave me a choice instead and it was exactly what I needed in that moment.”

She cupped his face in her hands and kissed him. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”