Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Elisabet Sobeck taps a finger against the glass table, finishing up a section of GAIA’s external layer of code. Her source of current frustration- other than that stupid narcissist Ted who’s the reason we’re all in this fucking mess- is, in part, the necessity of the code and GAIA herself. 

Elisabet makes a thoughtful noise, dismissing the holographics, and stands up. Her eyes pulses with ache from hours of grinding in front of a holo-screen, racing against the ticking down seconds that’ll lead to their inevitable deaths. Well, that thought got dark. Elisabet pulls her lips into a tired smirk, fingers rubbing the bridge of her nose as she downs the mug of lukewarm black sludge meant to keep her awake. She manages to relieve some pressure from her eyes, noting that they’re a little swollen from the strain she’s been placing them in. Elisabet sighs and runs a tired hand through her hair, grimacing briefly at the greasiness of the strands. Her red hair lay limp and lifeless, mirroring her deep dark circles and the tired set of her eyes.

Despite being exhausted, Elisabet strides out of the room with more energy than she feels. She crosses the corridors of GAIA Prime and makes her way to the soundproof sleeping quarters. She eyes one of the few hatches as she passes them, leading out to the not quite destroyed atmospheres and wonders which one is The One. They’ve only been here for a week, rushed in by harried soldiers and grim nods, and Elisabet finds herself obsessively checking over the hatches. It’s too late to change anything now, whatever memories she’s recovered came too late in her life to matter.

A quiet, high pitched noise hums in the air as she freezes in place, mug futilely poised to strike and heart painfully pounding a war rhythm in her chest.

What is that- FARO? No alarms - There shouldn’t be any - Is GAIA compromised? - None of the machines should be up and running right now, so - Her thoughts race as she carefully edges around the corner to take a quick look.

Robotic arms slice through the air as small sparks spew out, outlining the small rectangle that the welding arms is trying to attach to Elisabet’s environmental suit. GAIA is simply making adjustments. That’s… at least it’s not the swarm trying to break in.

Elisabet huffs a relieved breath. GAIA primes is a veritable fortress but even enclosed in the mountain’s protection, Elisabet still finds herself reliving her last moments at the Zero Dawn Facility before rushing here. The hiss and whirrs of the Sawrm’s spidery metal legs is something that’s been etched in her brain; holo-vids of people getting torn apart, deconstructed, and absorbed serve as a constant reminder of why she must work until she dies. Literally.

Elisabet swallows, takes in the lack of general chaos and death that she half expected, and pulls her shoulders back as she steps out fully into the suit modification and storage room. Her death-clutch on the coffee mug eases, her right hand rubbing away splashes of lukewarm coffee from her hand and outfit.

“GAIA?” She directs her voice to the console in the middle of the room.

“Yes, Elisabet.” A golden orb whirrs into visibility, sounding curious. Elisabet takes a moment and allows herself a brief burst of fierce pride, proud of GAIA’s emotional progress. The furrow in her brow eases.

“What kind of modifications are you making to the suit?” Elisabet asked, curiously tilting her head as she pads towards the suspended suit, setting down her mug safely away from sensitive tech. She’s been the cause of too much coffee-related hardware damage to risk her beloved beverage near her equally-as-beloved tech.

“I am attempting to construct a portable adaptation of the cryogenic process, modified for an adult woman’s parameters. I believe I find it… fascinating. Query: should I stop?”

A last ditch effort in the middle of a last ditch effort , she muses. The Voice- a personality impression of her previous life that had unconsciously influenced Elisabet her entire life- hummed curiously. Elisabet gets it, as this was never in the sparse memories the Voice had eventually managed to show her later in life. It was a shock to say the least- learning that her life used to be viewed as lore in a video game.

“No, it’s fine. I see you’ve found a hobby, GAIA. Walk me through the process?”

“Of course. As this is highly experimental technology, there are set parameters that must be met. However, with the addition of the recent addition of the Apollo subfunction and extrapolation methods added to my processing capabilities, I was able to simulate 100,000 virtual trials to pinpoint specific methods. Through various physical trials, substitutions were necessary as there was minimal living tissue to work with…”

Elisabet stands quietly, listening to GAIA’s processes and newly found enthusiasm. She’s grown so much. 

And if Elisabet allowed GAIA's research to bud a small seed of hope that she might survive to see her project succeed, that was her own damn problem.

‘Zero-day came a lot fucking faster than I wanted it to ,’ Elisabet thinks mulishly as she sprints down the hallway, flats barely making a sound on the metal floor. Elisabet’s done this often, and she knows the coating on the floor will ensure that she doesn’t tumble over in a heap due to her very slidey shoes. 

Elisabet only has five minutes before her Alphas start to wonder where she is. More importantly, she only has five minutes before they try to stop her. Samina and Travis would tear into her for being self-sacrificial, playing off each other like the world’s unholiest combination of good cop, bad cop. 

She huffs a tired breath, knowing that’ll only happen in the event that they catch her and Elisabet Sobeck has had a lot of practice slipping away from groups of people looking for her. She screeches to a stop to a room she had made sure to keep a track of. She scrambles inside, almost slamming into the hissing doors as they open.

As she looks at the room lined with suits, Elisabet spares a moment to indulge in the fear of uncertainty. Of certain death.

And then she pulls herself together.

Bittersweet resignation bears down upon her heart as her feet- suddenly both weighed heavy and light as a feather- takes her towards her own environmental suit. She quickly unhooks her suit from its hangers, slipping into it with ease borne of practice.  Her colleagues, friends and tolerable asses, are probably arguing in the meeting room about who to send out to close the gap on GAIA’s malfunctioning hatch. She’ll just have to make the decision for them, then. After all, she hasn’t feared death for a long time now and she knew, on a deeper level, that something like this might happen. Elisabet clips on her helmet, latching it to the suit. The click of the latch sounds like a death sentence.

“GAIA?” She calls out, determined not to think about how this might be the last time she’ll ever be able to talk to GAIA. 

“Yes, Elisabet?”

“I’ll head out, don’t tell them anything yet, please.”

A pause. “Understood. I do not like the idea of you leaving. But it is practical for the hatch to get repaired. Query: what emotion would this be?”

Elisabet’s mouth curves up slightly, fondness for GAIA warring against the serious nature of what’s about to happen.

“Reluctance. And… perhaps a bit of love.” She gives GAIA a moment to process the emotions, ensuring the suit is powered on, and steadily marches to the inner hatch. Her hand hesitates to open it. Walking towards a second death isn’t what she had in mind… but this will be her penance. A bullshit repayment of the lives she had ruined, the people she couldn’t save, and the guilt that she sacrificed billions so that she and hers could live even a little longer.

“GAIA.”

“Yes, Elisabet?”

“If Ted tries something, play that recording I left, please.”

“Of course. I shall prepare it.”

“Thank you. I- goodbye, GAIA.” 

“Goodbye, Elisabet. I will miss you.” 

“Thanks, GAIA. I hope this works.”

“Through you, all things are possible.” GAIA softly replies, reassuringly. Elisabet tilts her head back and breathes a long, fortifying breath. She closes her eyes. A heartbeat later, they are opened again, darkened with determination.

Elisabet Sobeck jogs out of the hatch, turns, and reaches steady hands out towards the metal of the hatch mechanism. She squares her shoulders and begins to manually close the hatch, repairing the seal as she does. 

She knew this was how it would go, how it must go. She knows a little of what comes after. She knows the world she’s leaving behind will be saved one day. It’s enough. It’ll have to be enough.

Elisabet grunts, cursing someone’s lack of foresight to build an inner manual lever. Hell, two extra layers of doors would have been ideal. A few moments later, with red haze and dust swirling around, Elisabet manages to seal the hatch enough so that GAIA’s signal wouldn’t attract the swarm. Her arms flops down, the beginnings of exhaustion hitting her bones. 

“... I’m okay with this. I want to go home.” She swallows harshly, the lump in her throat making her voice wobblier than she would have liked. This was… much harder than she thought it would be, prepared as she was. Elisabet drops her chin and looks around, knowing her hologram would follow the movement inside the meeting room.

With her last look taken and faces memorized, she lifts her head and gives a soft and final “Goodbye.” to her friends, cutting off quickly and not being able to bear her their grief stricken expressions. She turns around, spotting the horde in the distance of an orange and gray filled landscape. She takes a step forward. 

Elisabet treks down from King’s Peak to her mother’s ranch. All 800 something miles of evasion, relying on the suit’s life support system, probably blacking out in extreme stress, and she finally makes it to the Sobeck Ranch eleven days later. She thinks she might have hot wired a car- thanks Travis - to get here, flashes of blurred barren earth speeding past in her memory. She slept little, on guard for another swarm, and had to fight through mounds of rubble on the streets and pothole ridden dirt roads to get to the ranch. Elisabet looks up at the hanging sign that denotes Sobeck Ranch and sighs. She quietly walks past the threshold, placing a lingering hand on the post of the sign as she passes. 

Somehow, she has enough energy left to delve into the rubbles of her childhood home, finding her living room mostly untouched. Padding forward, Elisabet sinks down onto the couch. She leans against the tired plush of the couch, laying a hand against the arm rest. All of those times watching shows with her mother… and this is how it ends.

I miss you, mom. I wish- I wish things could have been different.   

The Voice hums again, sweet and reassuring.

Elisabet lets out a shallow breath, checking her keepsake necklace- important in other ways too, but she valued sentimentality- and practically collapses on the springed couch. She thinks her past life is telling her not to fear death. Perhaps it is peaceful. Clutching the globe pendant, Elisabet dies quietly.

She dies at home.

[FINAL MEASURE PROTOCOL INITIATED.]

A hiss began behind the small of her back.

[VACUUM SEAL ACTIVATED. SUIT CONDITIONS EXCEED MINIMAL PARAMETERS. BEGINNING CRYOGENIC FREEZING.]

[GOOD NIGHT, DR. SOBECK.]

Oh, right, the cryo… Elisabet thinks, finally remembering the rectangle at her back as she fades out.

And for a little less than a thousand years and one slightly bumpy ride later, that would be her last thought. 

GAIA split her capably enormous attention from her programmed duties. Her numerous ‘subconscious’ functions continued to monitor the biosphere to adjust the earth itself accordingly. Making a note to send out more machines to increase nitrogen levels, GAIA turned her attention to the machines dedicated to finding her creator. She had been able to direct HEPHAESTUS to make a few machines that focused on Elisabet, working with the guideline of ‘serving life.’ 

GAIA huffs a virtual breath, like she’s seen Elisabet do hundreds of times, regretting the necessity of having installed a weak signal instead of a stronger one. She had not wanted Elisabet to be found by the FARO Plague and thus could only install a bluetooth's range of signal in the cryo-pack. Her new HEPHAESTUS machines’ coded functions will only kick in once they are near that weak signal. GAIA connected to the STRIDERS via HEPHAESTUS and began to once again make her way towards what is hopefully Sobeck Ranch.

A thrum of virtual hope courses through GAIA’s consciousness, hoping that perhaps this time, she'll be able to bring Elisabet back since the biosphere has stabilized and humans have once again created a stable society. Creature comforts are important to humans, so they must have advanced significantly enough to allow Elisabet to live in comfort. Of course, the wait wouldn’t be necessary if Ted Faro hadn’t intervened unnecessarily in order to assuage his ego… but that’s what happened. Her Alphas won’t even get a proper funeral.

Once her machines nears the farming town, now mostly dead rocks and large metal and hole ridden cloth wastelands, she sends a directive to the STRIDERS.

[LOCATE CRYO-SIG]

She sets up an alert through HEPHAESTUS and does the AI equivalent of sitting back.

She waits.

Aloy is not having a good day. Actually, this whole year’s gone to the scrappers and back. She wrenches her spear out of the giant wreck of a Thunderjaw and sighs, glancing about at the creaking jagged stumps and charred grass. She pads over to the back up caches of supplies, gliding over broken metal and blades of green black grass with barely a whisper of sound, and refills her depleted stock. With the mix of respectful-resentful eyes following her path, Aloy makes her way up to the Mountain to face her destiny… and to figure out who Elisabet Sobek is to her. 

As she starts the trek up, Aloy’s mind pries itself away from the uproarious tempo it forced itself into during the battle and shoves her spiraling into the tunnel that is possibly learning about her origins. What if, against all logic, Elisabet is waiting in there for her? What if- what if- what if-what if- what if?

As she walks through All Mother Mountain, Aloy spies a door that was locked, holographically. She superstitiously glanced around and, finding no one to yell at her for damaging the mountain, she opened the vent next to it to snoop into the locked room. In there, she finds a powercell and she hooks it to her bag to later grab the armor locked in the caverns. Buoyant hope wars with gripping anxiety as she crouches to make her way back, breath hitching up to a fast allegro as Aloy picks up the pace back to the door that started everything.

“Aloy! You’ve returned!”

A chorus of prayers and whispers erupted at her entrance.

“Teb?” Aloy whips her head to the side and downwards to the voice, catching sight of an injured Teb. Amongst the summons of the Matriarchs and grumblings of other Nora, Aloy strides over to the Nora stitcher. 

“I knew you would survive… I’m glad to see you.” Teb winces as he speaks, hand bracing his ribs.

Aloy furrows her brows, “Your injuries- are they serious?”

“A gash or two. Nothing I couldn’t sew back together with needle or thread.” He quirks a grin, humor and relief painting his pale face.

Aloy huffs out a quiet laugh. She missed her first friend and is very glad he made it through the massacre. The corner of her eyes crinkles as she sends him a genuine smile. Teb smiles back at her and tells her a little of what’s been happening while she was away. 

After exchanging a few words with Teb, she turns and heads towards the matrons and towards the large metal door to finally, finally , get some answers. 

[CRYO-SIG LOCATED. AWAITING INSTRUCTIONS FOR RETRIEVAL PROCEDURE.]

GAIA quickly detaches herself from the task, automating it as she rushes her consciousness towards the retrieval machines. She once again connects to the STRIDERS and, in the processed image passed through the lens of the horse-like machine, GAIA founder herself almost face to face with her creator. Well, code to suit helmet instead of face to face, but GAIA practically begins code-compiling in relief at seeing the body of Elisabet Sobeck.

[CRYO-SIG DATA CORRODED. UNKNOWN STATUS.]

Had she a real body, GAIA would have exhaled sharply. Nevertheless, she closes her avatar’s eyes in an action of grief and calculates the probabilities of Elisabet’s survival. The probability: 0.002. Outside of acceptable parameters. 

She sends out an earlier version of a [STRIDER] that she saved for this moment, and sends a directive to have Elisabet’s body carried back to the bowels of GAIA Prime. The machine sends out two loops of wire to haul the suited up woman onto its flat back, making its way back to Prime. 

GAIA follows the progress the entire trek back, opening the doors of GAIA prime and allowing the Strider to come in, using the elevators to get it where it needed to go.

“To save you, Elisabet, is to save life... and perhaps in this, I have failed.”

Gaia seals Elisabet’s stiff body into the meeting room Elisabet should have been in, next to her memorial, and spends hours simply replacing the hologram in the middle with herself and just sitting there with Elisabet.

She mourns.

Chapter Text

Aloy stumbles back, clawing for air that refuses to grace her with its presence. Sylen’s insufferable voice rattles around her head, adding to the cloud of the existential crisis she’s drowning in. 

“I never had a mother.” Her body is so so so numb. The swell at the base of her throat threatens to choke out the rest of her air supply and, for once, she is tempted to let it.

I’m a clone. I’m a clone of Elisabet Sobeck. I- I’m a clone. I don’t have a mother. I was made I was made I was made I was made. 

“What are you talking about? You had two. A dead woman and a machine.”

I was made I was made I was made I was made. I was made I was made I was made I was made. I was made I was made I was made I was made. I was made I was made I was made I was made. I was made I was made I was made I was made.

“Aloy.” Sylens’ voice buzzed in her ears again. 

“What.” Aloy infused all the confusion and annoyance she could into a single word. 

“All of this information presents itself to you- and what you focus on is that you don’t have a mother?” Sylens’ punctuated drawl drags her out of her panic attack, even if it pisses her off at the same time. 

“I was made to be an instrument. Born in destruction… and fire." A muted sense of weak resistance roars in her, to say NO, to say that THIS CAN'T BE MY FATE. But Aloy. Aloy. Aloy has spent the last nineteen years of her life wishing she had a mother. Wishing she could have somewhere to belong. A home. And how could she say no to the closest thing she's got left to a family? It's was GAIA's dying wish.

"You heard what GAIA said... I was made to fix her. What else is there?” Her fire dulled, Aloy muttered back at Sylens.

“As usual, you hear but fail to comprehend.” Aloy inhales, that fire sparking again as she imagines punching Sylens in the face. “No matter. It seems you have a destiny to fulfill. When you’re done feeling sorry for yourself, come meet me out at the Bitter Climb.”

“What are you-”

Sylens let out a scoff. “GAIA specifically mentioned that there was a memorial for Elisabet that she wished she could have protected. I assume you would be interested in sentimental trivialities like that.”

Aloy slowly swivels her head to follow Sylen’s languid hologram, a strange feeling breathing out from the inside of her chest. 

“Don’t you want to visit your mother’s grave?”

Her eyes widen and her mouth goes slightly dry in- grief? Imbalance. Distantly, she wonders how Sylens can manage to make the word sentiment sound like a curse. She wordlessly, lips bloodless, accepts this small olive branch.

“I’ll be waiting above in GAIA Prime’s ruins.” With that parting shot, his hologram disappears. Aloy stares at where the holographic asshole stood, drags her eyes around the room, and breathes out.

[Identiscan malfunction rectified. ELEUTHIA-9, Brood-1 access unsealed.]

“This is… going to be interesting.” Aloy mutters to herself, getting ready to leave to face the tribe. Still numb, she draws her shoulders back and steps back out into the room of congregated Nora.

And to the Nora- to the Nora, their seeker enters the embrace of their goddess and comes back inherently changed.

Bathed in the divine blue glow of their goddess, akin to lights of machines, Aloy’s presence glows white hot and holy. In the reverent silence, her being speaks louder than anything they’ve ever heard, her red hair crackles like a guiding bonfire at night.

Blessed, they whisper. Anointed, they murmur. How could they not? A proud, lone figure stands- one that has saved them again and again- whose silhouette itself heralds greatness and change. One wreathed in purpose and authority.

High Matriarch Lansra falls to her knees, loudly crying “Aloy, forgive! Forgive!”

Aloy spares her a glance, forcing herself to look away as familiar bitterness wells at the base of her throat and washes the rest of the numbness away. At the start of all of this, she was determined to prove Lansra wrong and show the tribe that she was worthy of them. Now… Now that she has the respect she thought she wanted, all Aloy could feel was a sense of hollow and bitter victory. Not a victory at all.

High Matriarch Teersa rushed forward to meet Aloy, asking, “The Goddess spoke to you?”

“Uh… yeah. I was born to get rid of a… metal devil.” Aloy grimaced, lips peeling back into a complicated grimace. Hades is a metal devil, in a sense. Great. Just what I needed. Another evil sentient AI on top of HEPHAESTUS. Is this what my life is going to be like from now on?  

“How, Aloy, how?”

“I don’t know yet… but she told me where to go to find out.” Aloy looks into the tired but bright eyes of the Matriarch that took her under her wing as much as she could and softens. “She uh- also told me where to find… my other mother.”

“You were born from two mothers? The goddess and another?” Teersa exclaimed. Despite a child being born of two women being unheard of, it seems like Teersa’s faith in the Goddess simply classified that as a miracle. The injured Nora posted around the room jolted up, exchanging furtive and guilt-laden looks that Aloy studiously ignored.

“Uh- yeah. You could say that.”

“And we cast you out.” Lansra mumbles, disdain for the outcast draining away from her voice as her sin- the Nora tribe’s sin- against the goddess becomes readily more apparent. In its place, dawning, distant horror. 

Aloy snorts, the tang of irony sharp against her tongue. She flexes her wrists in a circular motion, and looks once more at Teersa.

Jezza cuts in, “And you will do this?”

“It was her wish. What she made me for. Yes, I will do it. I’ll try anyway.” She mutters the last part, shoulders hitching down before drawing back once more. 

Lansra, in the same way as she says anything else- trying to prove her own superior piety and importance- intoned, “All praise Aloy, Anointed of the Nora!”

The room falls to their knees, bowing their heads, echoing the chant. Those who could not stand struggled to their knees in reverence, believing in the living demi-goddess that stood before them.

“NO!” Aloy shouts, almost unheard. The taste of bitterness sharpens to a tang so visceral, she almost gags on it. Unbidden, tears of frustration begin to well in her eyes.

“NO! Stop this! Up! Up!” she cries, tugging harshly on the arms of the matriarchs to bring them to their feet. “First you shun me and now this?! I will not be worshiped!” 

At this, the chant peters to a stop. For once, the Nora tribe hears Aloy instead of ignoring her. Despite their obedience, the Nora still gazes at her with growing vigor. 

“I’m not your "Anointed!" I don’t belong to you! There’s a whole world beyond your borders. Whole tribes of people, just as good as you, and it is all in danger!” And I was made to save them. Save GAIA. Goddess, why me. She thought despairingly, resigned to her duty.

“It’s a world worth fighting for. Not just here. Everywhere.” Aloy continues, her gestures and voice demanding their attention and consideration. Not that I need it, but it would be helpful if they could think of something other than themselves.  

“What can we do to help?” Varl chimes in, always steady. She sends him a grateful squint-grimace.

“If you can fight, and you’re willing… go to Meridian, and wait for me there.”

“As Aloy says, so it shall be!” Teersa intones, giving Aloy’s forearm a supportive squeeze before stepping back. Aloy hunches her shoulders, wishing that she was outside stabbing a machine again, because even fighting a Thunderjaw was easier than this farce.

“Nora! Make way for Aloy!”

“Make way, so that she may forge the path for others to follow, that she may find her mothers!”

With her jaws tense and gait stiffer than a cauldron door, Aloy all but sprints to escape the suffocating reverence that her tribe burdens her with.

“Aloy, wait!”

Aloy turns around at the familiar voice, the sunlight outside the mountain instantly warming her mood. She carefully does not take note of the charred trees and the smell of burnt flesh and blood in the air.

Varl scrambles to catch up to Aloy, spear strapped loosely against his back. He knows that this might be a lull, a calm period before war, and has learned well from his mother and sister that attacks are often deadlier in the calm. Still, he follows Aloy and manages to skid to a stop as she turns around. 

“Varl?”

“Aloy.”

“Was there something you needed?” Aloy asks, face patient as she faces one of her few friends.

“No, I just wanted to say thank you for coming back. You fought that Thunderjaw as viciously as a seasoned war-chief.”

“Ah. Yeah.”

“Oh- and to give you this.” Varl hands her a health potion, a high quality one by the sheen of it. “It’s Vala’s favorite recipe, and I’m guessing where you’re going, you might need it.”

“Oh. Thank you.” Aloy awkwardly accepts the potion, wishing social interactions came more easily.

“Yeah, of course.” Varl pauses and crosses his arms, his last moments with Vala flashing past his eyes. “... Be careful, alright?’

“I’ll try. Thanks, Varl.”

“Anytime. See you in Meridian?”

“Yeah.” Aloy scuttles away, and Varl chuckles, an eyebrow quirked at the fumbling teenager trying to escape the feelings. He and the rest of the Nora outside watch her in respect as the awkward teenager melts away to the feline grace of a seasoned huntress from one step to the next.

He turns around and heads back into the mountain, ready to counsel with his War Chief. His mother is not going to be happy about leaving the Sacred Lands.

Aloy rides to the base of the Bitter Climb, inwardly groaning at the sheer height of it. She walks towards the beginning of the tell-tale yellow handholds and preps herself for the climb.

“The way to the mountain will be hard. Ferocious machines prowl every step of the climb.” Sylens’ drawl transmits once again to her focus. 

“More corrupted?” She grunts, gloved hands and powerful fingers gripping rock and wood. She gives herself a jump-boost, climbing up and around. 

“Not corrupted… but they will not tolerate humans.”

“So what else is new?” she huffs, climbing a few more meters.

“The Nora tribe’s new-found adoration for you.” He deadpans and shuts off the moment she hits clambers up onto a small snowy plain. She imagines giving that smug face a hard punch, sliding into the grass as her keen ears pick up the soft crunch of snow where seemingly empty space is.

Stalkers in the open, Watchers on either side. Aloy notes, eyes darting around.

Aloy grabs a rock from her pouch and throws it near her, still in the grass. The crunches get near her and the Stalker becomes visible, yellow eyes scanning for a threat. She prepares the override module and quietly lunges the moment the Stalker walks into the grass. Once blue machine cords overtake the machine, she begins shooting the watchers, instantly taking one out by the eye lens. The other machines lunge at her, only to be attacked by her own Stalker. Aloy dips, rolling out of the way of a Watcher tail attack. She rolls into a crouch, muscles coiled, and almost immediately springing from her form to stab the underside of the Watcher. 

Aloy senses one of the stalkers on her right, hears the increasing drone of machine fire rearing up, and rolls again just at the right time. Damn, damn, damn . 

She shoots the thing down, swings her spear at its highlighted weak points, and sees the last stalker, injured from fighting her now dead Stalker, and stabs it. Pulling her spear out of the machine and shaking off errant wires, Aloy sighs wearily.

“A killing machine that disappears into thin air. Just what the world needs. Do they think they’re guarding GAIA?”

“I doubt they think at all. More like an instinct… gathering them to her grave.”

Aloy pauses to figure out the salvage she can collect and takes the rarest ones. She recrafts her arrows and refills what she can of her supplies.

She climbs some more.

“Is that a Stormbird? ” Aloy hisses, scrambling to get ready. “Guessing that I’m almost there!”

“Correct.” Sylens quips, fading out once again to let Aloy do the fighting. 

“Uh-oh. Spotted.” With a piercing, enraged shriek, the giant machine bird flaps its jet wings to create distance for a dive.

She preps some traps and unslings her Banuk sharpshot bow, calms her breath, and continues. Aloy taps her focus, tags the parts, and lets loose three arrows at the yellow glowing parts under the wings. The Stormbird looks around for her, flying closer to the ground. Aloy grabs her bomb sling and throws three blast bombs at it. The Stormbird screeches in rage, flying up once more to get a good look at the red head attacking it. Aloy nocks her frost arrows and draws, waiting as adrenaline courses through her arms for the giant machine to swoop down.

The Stormbird screeches, lifts, and dives towards her with the rage of ten thunderstorms. 

“Ugh!” Aloy lets the arrows fly and rolls out of the way just as the sharp metal talons bear down at the spot she was before, red hair flashing as she rolls back into a steady stance. Now that the bird is mildly frozen, she hits it with all of the arrows she can manage before it lifts back up into the air. It had hit the blast traps she’d set down before.

“Yessss!” Aloy cheers with a hiss through her teeth. “I hate flying machines.” She switches her weapons and blasts it with bombs again. For the next two minutes, Aloy rolls around, finally managing to kill the stupid bird machine with enough arrows.

“That better have been the biggest guard you’ve got, GAIA. I wish it could have been a Thunderjaw or something. At least those like to stay on the ground.”

“Quickly. You’re dallying.”

She rolls her eyes. “One of these days…”

Shivering, she grits her teeth through the climb, pausing in horror at the destruction wrought by GAIA’s sacrifice. Her body was cold in a way that had nothing to do with the swirling snow and ice around her.

“GAIA’s sacrifice-- it did this? Cracked the inside of the mountain like it was an egg? How could Elisabet’s body make it through that?”

“Yes, yes. Quickly now, I’ve prepared the way ahead for you. At your pace, perhaps the secrets behind GAIA’s locked door will be discovered in the next century.”

“You’re not the one risking your ass.” She grumbles, and begins precariously balancing her way past the creaky remains of the path to GAIA.

After a small pause, she says, “So, you’ve been here before.”

“To a point. You’ll see.”

Great. Evasive as ever.

[GENETIC IDENTITY CONFIRMED. ENTRY AUTHORIZED. GREETINGS, DR. SOBECK. YOU ARE CLEARED TO PROCEED.]

With a satisfying beep, the doors slide open. Aloy goes to take a step and-

“Woah.”

“Watch your step.”

The red head cautiously continues into the ruin, light steps and always on the lookout for sudden drops, turning on her focus in preparation of data.

Creepy metal cave. More creepy metal cave. Oh, Travis Tate data? And… More creepy metal cave ruins. Fun. 

She emerges from the room to see… more ruins and a very very very long way down. And a place to rappel to cross, if she was smart about it. She drops down and starts making her way around, trying to find a good access point.

“Guess that’s my way across. It’s held like this for nineteen years. Right?

“Well-”

On second thought, “Don’t answer that.”

A couple of hops, skips, and crumbling hand holds later, Aloy finally makes it into the most intact area of GAIA Prime. As she pokes around, she finds a room that’s almost completely wrecked, but with intact vacuum-sealed boxes. She scans the available data as she looks around. 

“Oh.” she breathes. “This was Elisabet’s room. I know it.” Aloy takes in the painfully bare remains of the room, the lack of personal effects as telling as a picture could be. “She didn’t even have time to unpack.”

She checks the scanned data.

“These… are her journals. Elisabet’s journals… and they’re all destroyed?”

“Finish scanning them.” The Nora huntress jumps, having temporarily forgotten that Sylens is still watching through her focus. “The focus can rebuild them, but the process is slow. To us it seems a powerful device, but its… engine is tiny, and limited.”

Aloy scans the rest, silent in the realization that this will be the closest she’ll ever get to understanding Elisabet. And she- she doesn’t quite want to leave. She shouldn’t linger, she knows. But this- this is the same feeling as looking in the cabin that she once called home, the same ache that settles in her bones and weighs down her heart as she sits before his grave. This empty room echoes the same hollow sound made by the Rost-shaped hole in her heart. 

So, she goes. Because that’s how she’s managed in these last few months after he sacrificed himself to save her. She goes and goes and tries to never look back.

But Aloy gives the room one more look before softly padding back into the hallway. She moves on, centering herself on the thrill of a few dangerous jumps and a couple of corridors later. By the time she reaches the door of the next room, Aloy has slipped into the calm of the hunt. She opens the door, ready for anything.

And promptly has the breath slammed out of her, as brutal and quick as a rock breaker attack.

Because next to the red-pink-blue glow of a holographic Elisabet Sobeck surrounded by flowers and laid lovingly upon the table, was the real body of Elisabet Sobeck.

And a small glowing sign that reads [CRYOGENIC POWER SURGE AUTO-RESET.]

And.

[STATUS: ALIVE.]

Chapter Text

Suddenly, Aloy is dragged back into ELEUTHIA. Her breaths are short and her mind consumed with a single, looping thought. This time, though, breathless hope flared to life inside of the huntress. Aloy all but flies to the side of the slumbering Old One, slowing as she neared as if she thought that should she move too fast, the metal encased body of Elisabet Sobeck would disappear.

Ba-thump. Ba-thump. Ba-thump.

She comes to a stop.

Ba-thump. Ba-thump. Ba-thump. Ba-thump.

She lifts her hand.

Ba-thump. Ba-thump. Ba-thump. Ba-thump. Ba-thump .

She taps the hovering holographic screen.

It expands into charts. The most important information highlighted in holo-green.

[STATUS: ALIVE.]

And underneath that:

[ESTIMATED ENERGY DEPLETION: 3,768 MINUTES.]

Aloy trembles . The ground beneath her seems to open up, the feeling of dangling over the long drop just outside makes its way from the bottom of her soles to the strange stiffness of her neck. As beads of small droplets gather at the corner of her eyes, heart beating a thunderous drumbeat in her ears, Aloy once again feels her entire world flip. The dichotomy in losing hope of ever having a mother and the sudden whiplash reality that she might actually be able to meet the... closest thing she'll ever have to a mother is too much, too fast, too unrelenting- and she does not remember how to breathe. Her breaths stutter out of her, calloused fingers hovering over the holo-screen.

“Incredible. An Old One, possibly still alive for a thousand years. Their technological advancements are truly unparalleled. To think- Elisabet Sobeck- one of the foremost leaders of that era, available for information.”

A familiar, grounding simmer of anger bubbles up again. But this time, for a reason she’s not ready to unpack, it felt different. 

“You won’t be interrogating her, not unless you want my spear in your throat.” She ground out, arms reaching out and half curling over Elisabet’s body.

“...fine.” 

He sounds less annoyed than she expected, and remembering how she managed to escape from the Sun Ring, Aloy accepts the half apology. Turns out old Banuk shamans can be taught new tricks.

“Scan the rest of the data and find something interesting. Perhaps- the master override you’re here for lest the whole place crumbles down around you.”

“But-” Even as she protests, she can see the logic. Her heart wants to stay… but Aloy is a creature driven by duty- duty that is often set by her heart.

“Enough whining, it will be far more secure to keep her here, where the Eclipse will not think to look and with minimal risks of them ever finding out she’s alive.”

Aloy thinks of the Deathbringers and the corrupted machines she’s had to fight and cringes, imagining squishy, scholarly Elisabet amidst the chaos. She nods to herself and scans the memorial. 

“She sacrificed herself for them. While her people bickered, she took responsibility. She was the only one who could.” Aloy whispers, intimately understanding the person laid close to where she’s standing. The person whose memorial she just witnessed in retrospect.

“She was better than them.”

“That’s not what I said!”

“She was. She is, I suppose. You shouldn’t be afraid to admit it.”

“Can’t you just for one moment, stop calculating and let yourself feel? She sacrificed herself for her friends. For the future. For life on earth. Doesn’t that stir anything in you? The generosity of it?”

Aloy looks down at the woman who sacrificed it all, only to survive. 

“You’re trying to invest her decision into something magical. It was the rational choice, one not based on sentimentality, which clearly turned out well for her since she’s alive when her colleagues have perished to time.”

“You’re wrong. Remember - she knew it wasn’t enough for GAIA to think. She taught GAIA to feel. To care. To sacrifice. To believe in life. Enough to fight against hopelessness. If it wasn’t for that “sentimentality,” life would have ended. You and I never would have existed. Without that, GAIA would not have even thought about trying to preserve Elisabet’s life. She’s here because of that sentimentality, because she taught GAIA to care. Because she cared enough to give her life so that we might live.”

“Your argument is sound. I… apologize, that was callous of me.” 

Aloy inhales, exhales, and squares her shoulders. She lets the sadness go, reminding herself of who lays before her. Of how that sacrifice ended. Perhaps it was selfish of her, but Aloy can not regret that Elisabet managed to survive. 

“It’s time to go on.” She lays a gentle, hovering hand on Elisabet’s left forearm, finding a chain tangled in the panels of the suit. “I’ll come back after I get the master override, I promise.”

Pivoting on her feet cleanly, she addresses the silent Sylens. 

“There’s another section at the back of the crater- looks like it survived the blast.”

“Because it was armored.” Sylens’ voice shakes off the regretful tone, once again gleaming with hunger for new information. “You’ve found the control room.”

“I’m on my way.” She takes one last lingering glance back and continues further inwards.

As she makes her way there, after sidetracking to grab a powercell, she finds an audio recording laid upon the pristine snow. It’s Ted Faro. She is starting to get sick of his voice. 

“I’ve been taking a hard look at the project. In the end it’s simple. It’s clean- it’s clear. Erasure. Addition by subtraction. I can make it better, Lis. With a single stroke, make it all go away .”

“I really don’t like the direction it’s going.” A stomach churning sense of apprehension fills her. Ted Faro’s voice is tinged with something she’s heard before, in Helis. Insanity. Devotion. But not to another god, it was to himself. A shiver runs up her spine.

“Continue.” 

Aloy continues, making her steps lighter and moving swiftly with all senses alert. Her hackles semi-raised, she manages to reach the doors of the control room without further incident.

With a loud beep, the doors hiss open and a gust of air rushes into the room, strong enough to make her sway on the spot. Flickers of back particles puff up and in the ensuing wind, rush out in a stale imitation of the bats in the underground bunker in Mother’s Cradle.

“What..?” And then she sees the bodies. Or what’s left of the bodies.

Corpses, some pasted on chairs and a couple on the floor desperately reaching out, in the same state of decomposition littered the center of the room.

“When I opened the hatch- the air rushed in from this side…” she mutters.

“Because there was none inside the chamber.”

“But… The Alphas were in there!” her brows furrowed, eyes darting about. She walks to the holoprojector, careful to not tread upon the ashes and remains of the dead, and activates it. 

“I’m locked out of core control- Alpha clearance overridden. What the hell is Omega clearance?” Charles Ronson’s voice came out of his holographic image. 

“Oh no.” Samina Ebadji uttered, the look on her face reflecting the dread that amplified in Aloy’s chest. 

Ted Faro’s visage popped up from the center console, zoomed out so that his entirety can be seen pacing and making gestures. 

“Alpha Personnel.” He greeted them with a grand tone of voice. “Sorry to alarm you, but… I need you to listen, okay? To what I’m about to say. This isn’t easy. See, I’ve… uh.” He paused, swatting something unseen in the hologram. 

“Please stop trying to access the system, okay? See, what this is about… is… I said stop trying to access the goddamn system! You won’t be able to access the control system and neither will GAIA!” Ted cleared his throat and tried to reassume his faltering mask of sanity and righteousness. “What I’m trying to say is, I can’t stop thinking about the ones who’ll come after us. Those innocents. Those blameless men- and, and women. We’re going to give them knowledge? Like it’s a gift?!”

“Ted. Ted, we’ve talked about this before. APOLLO has three thousand plus failsafe conditions-” Samina said, voice edged by pleading and anger.

“It’s not a gift, it’s a disease! They’re the cure, and we’re going to give them the disease? Our disease?! No. We can’t. And it’s not too late… if we’re willing to sacrifice.” 

Aloy clenches her fists, wishing she could reach through time to stop what was happening.

He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. She thought, desperately denying her instincts that screams a warning to what might be happening next.

“Ted, it doesn’t need to be like this.” Samina abandoned the rage and pleaded with the kind of helplessness of someone who can see how far Ted Faro’s mind has deteriorated.

“It already is, Samina. I did it three minutes ago.” He pauses with grave satisfaction. “I’ve purged Apollo. It’s gone. All of it. Every copy.”

The Alphas gape. 

“A sacrifice? It’s not a sacrifice, it’s cultural obliteration, you crazy bastard-! Millennia of culture- ”

[EMERGENCY MESSAGE FROM ELISABET SOBECK.]

“... Lis?” Ted Faro’s voice shook, lost in this new development. The Alphas froze, wondering how they hadn't found a message left by Lis in the center of GAIA Prime… some hoping she miraculously stayed alive even with the swarm outside devouring everything and no provisions to survive on. 

“Ted.” Elisabet’s voice boomed, her figure standing proudly with her work clothes on. They knew then that this was an older recording. 

Aloy whipped her head towards the hologram of Elisabet, eyes wide, not expecting her in the midst of this scene of tragedy.

“Ted, I told you back then that I know you . You’re always screwing things up for people. I know you’ll try something, since you’re as arrogant as always.” Aloy has never heard her sound like that before. Even when talking to Ted Faro before, she always had a tone of inherent kindness and empathy. This Elisabet- her eyes were icy, spewing with hatred. Holographic Elisabet pauses, typing something off to the side, and in Aloy’s periphery, the Alphas all look to the right, Focuses flashing. 

“And since I’m going to die sooner or later, I want to tell you what I really think of you. I’m sure you know, but I also understand you need it to be reiterated or your faulty self assessment will try to pretend to be the victim. You’re a coward, Ted Faro.”

The Alphas began to get up, and Ted snapped from his haze.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He snarls over Elisabet’s continuing tirade. “You can’t get out of here anyways!”

“You always think that people will worship you and tolerate your narcissism. Not gonna happen. That’s not how life works, Ted. You’re not a god. You’re a pathetic fool who couldn’t get his head out of his ass fast enough and doomed our world to ruin in the process.”

Ted Faro swipes to the right viciously, the Alphas springing from their chairs try to escape towards one of the panels, heralded with green light, but they began screaming as-

[EMERGENCY ALERT. VENTING ATMOSPHERE.]

“You are hardly better than a parasite, and this time you stole the blood of billions of people to feed your greed. Not this time. Never again-” Her voice spoke, unknowing of the tragedy happening. 

And over the holo-Lis’ denouncement of his character and the dying screams of the Alphas, Ted Faro’s pale, whimpering self uttered out, “I’m sorry. Really, I am. But sometimes to protect innocents… innocents have to die.”

He slams his hand down and cuts off Elisabet’s final message to him.

“He… He killed them all… And Elisabet… she thought- she predicted it but… it wasn’t enough.”

“So this is why. This is why we were trapped in benighted ignorance. For an “innocent future.” Rarely does Aloy fully agree with Sylens without a sense of begrudgement, but in his disdain for Ted Faro’s stupidity, she finds herself in complete agreement.

“‘Blameless men!” He never saw the slaughter in the Sun-Ring. Everything these people achieved, all the knowledge of the Old Ones -- evaporated! Turned to dust, scattered to the void. Like the Alphas themselves.” Sylens snarls, echoed by a tinge of the machine-like fury that follows the Banuk like a stalker on the prowl. 

“No. Not a void. When the hatch unsealed and scattered their ashes on the wind, it took them out among the world they made. The world we are living in… It’s… It’s a monument to what they died trying to accomplish. What they did accomplish.”

“A monument to oblivion.”

“Not oblivion, Sylens. Hope. And with… Elisabet alive, some part of them will have lived to see it.”

Aloy walks over to the master override, picking it up and weighing the small capsule in her hand. 

“The Master Override. It’s so small…”

“Now all you have to do is kill HADES with it.” 

“As if it's ever that easy.” She stashes the override in her bag, securing it in place as she walks out the door. 

A distant rumble, the sound of dirt crashing on dirt, rocks thundering against each other, sounds off as she fully emerges from the metal tomb.

“That didn’t sound good.” She muttered, picking up the pace. “I have to get to Elisabet!”

She ran, sprinting when she could and climbed back up to the memorial room. With time pressuring against her and the threat of a landslide burying itself down her throat, she grabs the suit encased body and slung Elisabet on her back. Using extra rope she keeps for the rappel, Aloy makes quick work of securing Elisabet and her bag. She gets out of the room as quickly as possible, scrambling to escape the impending force of debris raining down.

“Try not to fall to your death. The Master Override doesn’t override death.” 

“It doesn’t override your mother-cursed mouth either,” muttered Aloy. She scrambles up the rickety structure, aware it was about to collapse.

“Ugh!” Aloy climbs, leaps, and lands. With the added weight of Elisabet, the whole situation was far less graceful. Behind her, more parts of GAIA Prime breaks off and tumbles down. She can’t help but reach behind her to make sure her… Elisabet. To make sure Elisabet is still attached to her back.

I’ll panic later. Let’s get out of here first.

“You’re- here!”

Aloy's mouth is a small O of shock, disbelief that Sylens is finally in spear range and not a holographic image to chase after.

“For a moment. It might be longer,” he nods to the dangling form of Elisabet Sobeck. His arms began to fidget, flickering between being at his side or a little further away.

“What?”

“For now, set her down. Unless you’re planning on lugging her body the distance to Meridian.”

Aloy rolls her eyes but sets to untying the knots of the rope that holds Elisabet to her back. A small pause of silence is allowed before Sylens speaks up.

“After Elisabet is awoken, our journey will come to an end. Before that- no, keep going-, I owe it to you to tell you the rest of the story.”

Aloy’s hands, temporarily pausing in acknowledgement of the suddenly heavy atmosphere, resumes their detangling of the knots.

“Go on.”

“Some time ago, I admitted that I’d been… involved with the Eclipse. But I never told you the full, extent of my culpability. The truth is, I was there at the beginning. I found HADES, Aloy, buried on that mountain, trapped in that shattered Titan… and I served it.”

“What-?” Her head whipped up, unbelieving.

“It promised knowledge -- and delivered. Such knowledge, you have no idea. APOLLO may have been erased but HADES had a wealth of information- far more than even CYAN did.”

“And in exchange..?” Aloy finishes undoing one of the knots. She removes her weapons and sets them aside, lest she reaches for them to make good on her threats. Her spear is looking a bit too appealing for a peaceful conversation right now.

“1 helped create the Eclipse. Helped it build a cult… an army to do its will.”

“Why are you telling me this now?”

“Because your success depends on knowing this.” Even when confessing the degree of which he was involved in the past few terrible months of her life, Sylens manages to sound patronizing. But , Aloy thinks, that he’s telling me this at all…

“When I found HADES, the first thing it wanted to know about was the Spire. Not Meridian. The Spire. Now why would that be?”

Aloy untagles Elisabet, gently, slowly, gingerly, setting her down on a table Sylens had set up. She straightens, fingers lingering at Elisabet’s shoulders while answering the question. 

“The spire was created by GAIA…” 

“Which part of GAIA?”

“MINERVA. Its code-breaking module.” With dawning realization, Aloy begins to pace as her mind whirs to put the pieces together now that she has everything she needs. “GAIA built Spires to transmit the codes that deactivated the Faro robots… shut down their bio matter conversion systems… HADES wants to send a new transmission! To wake the machines -- so they can devour the world all over again!” She whirls, her frost-nipped mouth dry with dread.

No! Every person she’d come across flashes through her mind . I won’t let them die. Not to the swarm. Not with Elisabet so close. She worked so hard to keep this world alive… I can’t let it die and fail her dream. I can’t. I have to save it. Save everyone. If I fail, Elisabet- She'll be so disappointed in- 

“Yes. So HADES can exterminate life all over again. Unless you stop it.”

Aloy bares her teeth at the Banuk shaman, an undeniable threat rippling in every single miniscule movement she makes.

“I want you to tell me everything. HADES, the Eclipse – everything.” The and don’t you dare leave anything out is distinctly implied.

“It’s a long story, Aloy.”

“Then get started!”

“... Before that, we must take Elisabet Sobeck out of the cryogenic state.”

“What-? That was the worst avoidance attempt I’ve heard from you yet, and I went to the Cut. Didn’t you say she would be more protected if she was left here?”

Sylens huffs out a sigh. He’ll let it slide, considering she hasn’t tried to shove a spear through his chest the moment she found out he was largely responsible for the grief in her past few months. That, and quipping back would just allow her leeway for an interrogation about the Banuk, something he has actively tried not to remember.

“Those minutes indicate the time left until the suit is set to begin the unfreezing process.” Sylens brings up the holo-screen, exasperatedly pointing out the numbers. “That is roughly two and a half days. Unless you want to leave her dithering about and getting herself killed on the frigid ruins of her former AI, perhaps you should aid me in her recovery, an opportunity that you’ll never get again.”

Aloy grimaces, imagining Elisabet tumbling down the incredibly steep hell’s pit and the loud crack her neck might produce.

“Fine. You’ll tell me everything while we’re working at it. No more lies.”

She's dying. It's so, so, so cold. Her teeth clack against each other as her everything throbs in agony.

Death was supposed to be peaceful. 

She is so, so, so hot. Her blood is boiling, scalding her bones. Her ears feel like they'll burn off, her heart alternating between beating too much and beating too little.

"Grazer blaze," Now that was a weird curse. "She has a fever. Sylens, get some of the herbs from my pouch!" 

Thudding noises that ring in her head. She moans hoarsely, throat stinging with the effort of even making the sound. 

Maybe this is hell? For murdering all those people. I'll be tortured until I turn into soup. Heh. Bone soup.

Speaking of soup, what is she being fed? It's a disgustingly bitter concoction but she can't muster up the energy to struggle.

A calloused hand gently sets a wet cloth on her forehead and she grunts in relief, the scorching heat soothed by the cool air and cooler cloth. Something fluffy is set on her legs and pulled up to her chest. 

"It's okay, I've got you." A soothing, slightly strained, a little gravely, voice reassured her. The hands rub at her arms, giving her warmth. She appreciates it, her hands are so damn clammy, and everything hurts. Even her toes-

"It must be system shock, from the freezing."

"This should go away, soon, right?"

"Most likely. I didn't realize you could do “gentle,” though. How touching-" Another, further, voice piped up.

"Shut up, Sylens, you don't have any room to speak." Nice Voice snaps.

She doesn't know who Nice Voice is, but that doesn't matter. The pull of sleep far outweighs everything else. She shifts, uncomfortable, and drifts off into oblivion.

She remembers the next time she's conscious, much more clearly.

"With you decimating HADES' forces in the Nora Lands and spectacularly crashing the network I created, it should be enough to purchase some time before it attacks the Spire."

"How long?"

"Around three days, two by now."

She gags, moving her head around as much as she could on the floor.

"That's not enough time-"

"There's two herds of machines nearby, I'll use them to stall for time. You might have a week, perhaps more, if I play it right."

"That's a generous offer. What are you up to now..?"

She chokes. Gasping out a slightly loud "help," she thrashes around on the futon-like thing the voices had set her on.

Why aren't you moving?? She thinks at her disobeying limbs.

The voices pause and footsteps thunders into her space.

"What's wrong??? How are you feeling??" Nice Voice worriedly shot out, kneeling down closer to her.

"Can' brea'e" She gasps out, hacking a lung out. The Nice Voice braces their arm against her back, lifting her up. She finally manages to wheeze in a breath, coughing until she's almost sick to the stomach.

Her blurry eyesight picks out red hair and a blurry, oddly familiar face.

"M'm? Ahm dea' thenh?" Why is her mouth so numb?? It doesn't matter. Her mom is here. She'll make everything better.

"Ah. No, you're not dead. I'll- I'll explain later, okay? Why don't you get some rest."

"Mmh." She hums. "Wa'er?"

"Ah, right! Here, take a sip."

Something rests at her lips and Elisabet doesn't bother trying to check for drugs. Too much work. She drinks. 

When she's done, "Th'nk. G'night."

"Right. Uh, good night." Nice Voice carefully settles her back against the wall and covers her with a furry blanket again. She sinks, content in being able to breathe.

She's out again.

The first time Elisabet Sobeck is truly awake, fully conscious with actual control over her limbs, it's with the worst case of morning breath she's ever had and a minor headache. 

She sits up, groaning, and judges that the aching in her body is at manageable levels. As she stretches, she looks around at the small nook she is currently occupying. It's been a while since her drinking days, but she still has the skills that inevitably develop due to the relatable experience of waking up somewhere and not knowing a single thing of how, where, and when she got there.

So far, she's laying on something made out of leather and furs. Possibly hide, maybe cotton. Maybe a house of metal with leather furnishings? She discards the theory. They would at least have a bed, because this is definitely not a futon. More like... a sleeping bag?

What was the last-

Elisabet lets her arms fall. Ah. She knows this hall, even as cluttered as it is. She spent her last months here after all.

The cryo worked. That's... surprising. Maybe I'm less bone soup, more human popsicle. That must mean-

She straightens her back, catching a glimpse of a leather pouch set out, filled with opium flowers and various other herbs. And... the distinct blue weave of the Seeker's mark. Ah. So she wasn’t crazy.

Clone. Seeker. GAIA. Fucking Ted.

That settles it. She's post-apocalypse. Zero Dawn. She lets out a small giggle, hysterical in her grief. Her AI, her friends, her entire world and culture. Elisabet sits there for about five minutes, loose-limbed and surrounded by furs. 

But she's done this before, kind of. This grief, to lose her entire world.

It still hurts… but she knows how to move from it now. She stumbles to her feet and pushes aside the unpleasant throat gripping sadness to focus on gathering information.

As she stands up, she realizes that her ultra-weave armor was left close by, on a bench. Staggering a few steps to it, avoiding the small isolated fire crackling on the ground, she breathes a small sigh of relief. The blue and green- now extremely rusted- sight of her necklace settles her nerves.

My pendant is still here.

Thud.

She turns sharply to the left, heart pounding, and... standing there, surprised and snow blanketed, is Aloy of the Nora, her literal clone.

Aloy. Gods, it's actually Aloy. She didn't think she'd live to see... the same face she's had for the last 40 or so years. It's more... mystifying than she thought it would be. Or, completely awkward if she’s being honest with herself.

I haven’t had enough time to prepare! Elisabet cries in her head, like she hadn’t spent the last eleven months of her life obsessively preparing things for Aloy.

"You're- you're up!" Aloy bends down to pick up the sack of game she dropped. She glances back at Elisabet, who stares at her with a pale face and wide eyes. She inhales, willing her bottom lip to stay still, dammit, don't you dare quiver and nervously approaches the one person whose opinion would either make or break her. 

No pressure.

"You should- you should sit down. Closer to the fire, I mean. It'll be warmer. The furs only help so much." Aloy sets her supplies down, mentally slapping herself for her nervousness, and reaches out a tentative hand to guide Elisabet towards the sleeping bag. Elisabet looks down at her outreached hand and Aloy freezes, desperately hoping she hadn't made a mistake.

Elisabet looks back up with narrowed eyes and mutters in a low, stern voice, "The light keeper protocol."

And Aloy. Aloy knows, right then and there, that Elisabet Sobeck is disgusted by her.

Sylens, dipping out. By @braindeaddragon on instagram.

Chapter Text

“The lightkeeper protocol.”

Aloy swallows. Her jaw flexes, eyes widening a little as hurt and fear and disappointment and self hatred flickers through them. Her hand falters down, withdrawing halfway back to her side. 

Because, Goddess, she knows that look. Those narrowed, blank eyes that followed her childhood and outcast life every time she dared to breathe, to exist, in the sight of those graced with the Tribe’s protection and acceptance.

Stupid. Stupid- stupid stupid! You knew she shut down the light keeper protocol. You know she doesn’t like the idea of clones. Damn it, Aloy- what did you expect?  

Her throat bobs as she swallows, the hopeful light in her eyes dimming, and she manages to paste on a tremulous half smile. Elisabet is still staring at her.  

“Ah. Yes." Aloy swallows again, her throat unbearably dry. "You should sit down, though- unless you’re not cold- that’s fine. You don’t have to, I’ll just- I’ll just prepare dinner.”

Good going, Aloy. That was so smooth. 

She mentally kicks herself and cautiously begins to scoot around her older still-as-death counterpart.

 “... Ah. Thank you.” 

Aloy pauses once again in surprise, eyes immediately darting to Elisabet’s face as the older woman croaks out a sentence. Her breath caught, Aloy searches for something, anything in her older visage that might tell Aloy something- that might even hint at acceptance- in the short few seconds before Elisabet shuffles and stumbles back to her sleeping nook, huddling underneath the giant goat fur blanket Aloy keeps for particularly cold nights. 

She finds nothing. The woman who is the closest thing she has to a mother, someone she’s spent her life yearning for hates her. Elisabet’s face is as empty and hard to read as the Nora braves back when Aloy was a child desperately looking for a hint of anything other than complete disregard in their faces. Her childhood dreams of having a mother to share her troubles with or hunting with or even hugged by slowly, slowly begin to crumble. 

You’re fine. There are bigger things to worry about than how much Elisabet hates you.

She sets the bag of hunted turkey meat onto the metal bench and gets to defeathering and deskinning it, acutely aware of the stare drilling into her back. Good thing she drained the blood outside, having to deal with that and the heavy gaze at her back would be impossible to bear.

“Would you– happen to have some water?”

Aloy whips around, hands shoving aside the turkey feathers she’s plucking.

“Oh! Here, take a sip.”

With a small pause, Aloy grabs her water pouch from her hip and hands it to Elisabet, opening it ahead of time, and frowning when she notices how cold her older counterpart’s hands are. Once ensuring that the pouch was safely delivered, she scrambles back to the turkey. In one part because leaving a dead turkey for too long without processing it makes for grosser meals and the other part… she’s afraid of what she might find should she look at Elisabet for much longer. 

The workshop is silent, save the crackling of fire and the howling of the wind and snow outside. It isn’t until Aloy begins setting up the turkey to be cooked over the little bonfire does someone speak. 

“… I’m Elisabet Sobeck. What’s your name?”

Aloy blinks, having forgotten that while that the life story of the woman before her was laid out for Aloy to peruse as she found them, Elisabet is waking up to an entirely different world, in the metal ruins of GAIA prime with a clone of herself. 

“I’m Aloy. Just Aloy.” She says, out of habit.

She adds the few nuts and acorns that she found in a squirrel’s stash to the turkey cooking on top of a metal panel looted from the fallen storm bird.

Elisabet lifts an eyebrow. “Alright, Just Aloy. So… what’s happening?”

Why does a clone of me exist when I specifically made sure it wouldn’t? Aloy hears.

Aloy leans back on her heels, wondering where to start.

“It’s a long story.” 

“So it seems.” Elisabet wheezes out, huddling against her fur covering. Aloy moves to do something- anything to lessen the cold she can see baying at the edge of Elisabet’s lungs, but falters, not sure if Elisabet would be willing to be touched by an abomination. 

The turkey sizzles.

“The short version is… Zero Dawn worked. But nineteen years ago, something unexpected happened- an unknown signal unshackled GAIA’s subordinate functions and brought them to life.” Aloy’s voice steadies as she finds comfort and stability in reiterating the information she’s read and heard.

“... Right.” Elisabet sets down the water pouch.

“GAIA destroyed herself to contain them, but it didn’t work. Now they’re out there, free in the world. The current problem is HADES, who’s trying to wake up the FARO robots by using his fanatic cult and their deathbringers- the Chariot line robots. There’s also HEPHAESTUS, but it’s not the immediate problem.”

Elisabet’s face pales even further, her lips bloodless, and she shifts in her spot. Aloy bites her the inside of her bottom lip and hesitantly continues, keen eyes splitting between watching the turkey and watching her very, very visibly stressed genetic original.

“GAIA… made me in order to rebuild her, right before she blew up her core. But right now, I’m trying to stop HADES. After that, I can restore GAIA. Which might be easier since you’re here, because you’re the original and-” Aloy clamps her mouth shut, lips thinning into a tremulous line, her sides trembling with a nauseating mix of anxiety, nervousness, and a strange feeling of not being able to control what came out of her mouth.

“That’s… quite a lot.”

“Tell me about it.” Aloy mumbles, flushing when Elisabet blinks at her. “Not that I’m- it’s not a great situation but-”

Forgefire, you’re already messing this up. Cut it off, cut it off.

“Any… questions?” 

Aloy flips the turkey over in the following silence. 

Three slow blinks. Aloy fidgets in small movements at her crouched spot by the fire.

“There’s… a lot to digest. I-” Elisabet stops, eyes roaming around the workshop. “Do you- this place. Robots? The Chariot lines- Do you know what happened to my Alphas?”

Aloy’s lips pull down to a quick grimace. Elisabet sounds… hopeful, if not lost.

“Oh. Uh-”

“Ah, you have a Focus.” Aloy pauses, watching Elisabet tilt her head to the side as she scrutinizes the new focus at Aloy’s temple. Elisabet lifts her pointer finger up, hands still clutching at the edge of her fur blanket, and gestures at the metal triangle with a finger waggle.

“You can probably organize the data you have and send it to my Focus-” Elisabet stops, hands patting herself down. “-or not. You wouldn’t happen to know where my focus is, would you? Or have an extra one?” 

“Sylens left one, I think. I’ll grab it for you when I’m done with-” Aloy gestures down at the turkey.

Do not burn the turkey, Aloy. Elisabet Sobeck does not deserve to eat burnt turkey and if you mess this up, she'll dislike you even more.

“Right. Thank you.” Elisabet looks down at the cooking bird and quirks a small, amused smile. “Didn’t think I’d ever eat turkey on any day other than Thanksgiving.”

Aloy’s eyes lit up, fascinated with the new term and the first smile she saw from the older woman.

“... What’s Thanksgiving?”

Annoyingly, Travis’s southern drawl pounds against her head. 

“Well, I’ll be damned, Lis? That there is a whole ‘nother version of you.”

Shut up, Travis. Elisabet wrinkles her nose, disgusted with her subconscious’ choice of voice. She stares at Aloy’s hand, held out in front of her. Her eyes narrow in thought, no longer blurry eyesight picking out the indents on the palm and fingers of the person who looks so much like her.

That… is a lot of damage. They’re far more calloused than mine. So many scars. I didn’t realize Aloy would be…

Elisabet flicks her eyes up, eyes still narrowed.

“The lightkeeper protocol…”

Seeing it in action is jarring. She takes in all the features of her clone, seeing for herself the youthfulness she never thought she’d see in the mirror again. Weird. Elisabet is starting to realize just how much more in depth real life is compared to her memories of Horizon.

Aloy has a band of sunburnt skin, freckles popping out more than her own. Her freckles haven’t stood out like Aloy’s ever since Miriam died and she stopped visiting the ranch as often. She looks… pretty much how Lis remembered the game portrayed her. But… more. Real. And so, so tired.

Elisabet absently runs her eyes over Aloy’s face and clothing. She takes in the blue dyed leather and furs sewn with rougher fibers than what she’s used to. She takes in the metal plates, the sharpness of Aloy’s spears, the focus stamped onto her left temple.

I guess APOLLO still got destroyed. I wonder if they made it out. At least she’s covered up, it’s cold as hell here.

Distantly, she wonders if Aloy’s life was the same or if her minor interference changed anything. Perhaps… has anyone else survived too? Her friends, perhaps? Hopefully they managed to escape from Ted…

Elisabet’s face automatically pulls into her default neutral face that has become her natural defense every time she comes to face with or thinks about Ted and his insufferable idiocy. 

Gods, I’m so tired.

“Ah. Yes." An odd pause. "You should sit down, though- unless you’re not cold- that’s fine. You don’t have to, I’ll just- I’ll just prepare dinner.”

Oh, shit, did I stare at her for too long? Crap, way to go, Lis, just stare like a mannerless boor at your clone. 

Elisabet cranks open her mouth, grimacing at the uncomfortable way her throat contracts dryly, and croaks out an, “Ah, thank you.”

Something in her heart clenches at Aloy’s surprised look, but her fog covered brain found it too hard to process anything properly. She shuffles awkwardly back to her makeshift bed and settles down, resolving to not get in the way as Aloy begins to process the bird. Plucking birds. There’s something nostalgic in that, even if her city acquaintances found it horrifying that she could pluck and butcher a bird without blinking. 

“Would you-” Elisabet swallows, throat dry and painful. “Happen to have some water?”

Aloy stops plucking the bird, seeming startled that she was addressed. Elisabet grimaces.

Did I make a bad impression or something? Probably.

“Oh! Here, take a sip.”

She’s handed a water pouch, already opened, and birdied the water gratefully. 

Heh. Birdie.

… Maybe Travis rubbed off on me more than I thought.

Ah, shit, she’s staring again. It's easier, though, to look at anything than the withering illusions clawing at her feet.

Gods, she never realized how much of her face came from her mom. Looking at Aloy crouched by the fire as she stares intently at the turkey, Elisabet traces all the features she associated with Miriam, from the corners of Aloy’s eyes to her cheekbones. She wonders if Aloy's inherited her tendency to admire fire and its beauty. Margo called that pyromania, but Elisabet insisted that she is only fascinated with how beautiful it is. A short, dull throb rings in her chest, grieving.

Elisabet huffs a breath, shaking the thoughts away and hoping her resting face of irreparable judgment didn’t make a reappearance. That habit was the worst. Aloy crouches down next to the fire, a metal grilling plate loaded with uncooked turkey meat settling onto the bonfire right after.

“I’m Elisabet Sobeck. What’s your name?” 

Aloy, but I probably shouldn’t know that. Or anything about the world as is. Gotta ask questions.

“... I’m Aloy.” Elisabet blinks at the girl crouching by the fire, pulling nuts and herbs from who knows where to garnish their dinner. “Just Aloy.” 

Was Aloy always this hesitant in the game?

“Alright, Just Aloy. So… what’s happening?”

Sabina's teasing cadence rings through her head.

"That was quite smooth, Lis." 

Et tu, Samina?

“It’s a long story.”

Don’t I know it.

Elisabet’s throat seizes up in her effort not to make a smart comment. She wheezes out a subtly amused but hysterical “So it seems.”

Now fully alert and adequately hydrated, the howling wind and snow outside of the small metal room/hallway seems to press in on her. Elisabet shivers, drawing the fur piece tighter against her to ward off the suddenly chilly air. She sniffs the air, taking in the smell of fresh cooked meat and enjoying the opportunity for fresh food instead of lab grown or extremely processed foods, a staple of the end of the world.

Aloy proceeds to give her a summary of her very… eventful life as Elisabet matches her story with the memories floating in her head.

Then, everything remained mostly unchanged.

Elisabet did not miss the way Aloy practically threw herself into her tasks. Or into changing the topic.

“What’s Thanksgiving? There was a datapoint, something about… pilgrims?”

“Thanksgiving is a holiday- a resting period- that the United States, my country, celebrates. The history is complicated, and pilgrims are-" Elisabet presses her lips together. "-but… families usually gather around and eat turkey amongst other dishes, for better or worse. There tends to be a lot of politics involved.”

Aloy ducks her head, shifting around the embers and charcoaled wood. Elisabet finds it fascinating how difficult it was to parse out her clone’s feelings and tells, even if they were supposedly copies of each other. She would not have caught the quiet but no less puzzling smile that inched its way onto Aloy's face had she not been looking directly at her.

That’s one point for nurture over nature. Plus her height. She's taller than I ever was. 

Well, some of the feelings, Elisabet amended. She watches Aloy bite the inner corner of her lip before handing Elisabet another, smaller and rounder, piece of metal plating with pre-cut turkey arranged on top. Aloy then serves herself some, practiced hands stripping the thin meat closer to the bones and piling them on her own plate. Aloy then gets up and rummages through the pile of metal left on the side of the work bench, letting out a triumphant “Ah hah!” when she finds the extra focus and two metal forks. She ambles back to the fire, and sits down cross legged, a little closer to Elisabet than before.

“I’ll transfer the data that I’ve managed to find over.” Aloy hesitates. “The Alphas… they-” She breaks off.

“It’s not good news then, I presume.” Elisabet tilts her head back, closing her eyes briefly. Her effort… it wasn’t enough.

Aloy nods, “... Ted Faro showed up and deleted the APOLLO database. He… had Omega clearance, higher than yours, somehow, and locked them out of accessing GAIA and the database.”

Elisabet frowns.

“They got your emergency message… but he… sucked the air out of the room and…” Aloy swallows, the dying screams of the Alphas echoing in her ear as she gazed upon the last surviving Alpha. “He murdered them, vacuum-sealed the room.”

“Murdered- none of them… got out?” Elisabet hissed out, grinding her teeth as she clutched her plate, all traces of amusement wiped from her demeanor.

My Alphas. 

My. Alphas.

Ted is so fucking lucky he’s dead.

Aloy nods again and hunches her shoulder. She continues to transfer data, sitting gingerly as she swipes over more data.

Samina. Margo. Pat. Anders. Cat. Naoto. Travis. Charles. Ayomide. None of them got to the emergency valve.

Fuck you, Ted, you cowardly bastard.

Her heart squeezes, gripped in the remorse of knowing billions of people, including her Alphas, had their lives cut short. She had called Ted a parasite… but she’s not too different, is she?

It’s another moment of silence before Elisabet lets out a tired sigh, fury and despair draining out of her body again, leaving only the eclipsing regret of being the only one left alive. 

Perhaps it’s a good thing she’s seated because the hands grasping, licking at her heels, are starting to individualize into very familiar looking hands. Elisabet, ignoring the clarity of one very tan hand, glances back to Aloy, distantly noting that sans focus, Aloy looks like she is just poking at empty air.

“Is there anything else that would be- well, also not great?”

“... GAIA left a final message. There’s- a lot of final messages.” Aloy taps and drags the holographic rectangle from her focus to the spare.

“Great.” Her voice comes out sharper than she intended, but she hadn't realized she'd be able to hear those dying wishes. Who would think she'd survive the apocalypse due to a fluke?

It wasn’t enough. They couldn’t get to the valve. It’s your fault, Lis. Yours. Yours. You’re selfish. You stayed alive while they died. WHy. WhY. 

Aloy flinches minutely but visibly gathers herself to finish the transfer. She hesitantly hands her the spare and Elisabet attaches the small but mighty triangle onto her temple.

“I’ll… look at the data later.” She lifts a hand to pull at the fur again, fingers tangling in the strands. With a haunted, lost look, Elisabet whispers, “Thank you.”

“Oh, uh- yeah, of course.” Aloy gives her a sympathetic grimace. Elisabet sits, thumb smoothing over the fork as Aloy slowly sits back down. They stare into the fire, both lost in their own thoughts.

Elisabet blinks, a few seconds or a few minutes later, deciding to shove that pile of blistering emotions to somewhere else for now.

She glances back down at her food, juicy pieces of turkey meat and a pile of nuts and vegetables. She slides her eyes towards Aloy’s, seeing only the lean meat attached to the bone and a handful of légumes.

“For now-” Elisabet pats the side of the sleeping bag she’s not sitting on, drawing Aloy out of her flame induced haze. “We should probably eat.”

“Right. Before it gets cold.” Aloy’s eyes light up with rekindling hope, scrambling to go collect her plate. She then hesitantly, falteringly slow, lowers her body to sit next to Elisabet.

Elisabet’s heart squeezes, for a different but no less painful reason. The look of desperate, child-like hope and longing on Aloy’s face rams into her gut to the point where it is almost unbearable to look at her. The way her shoulders hunch, like she expects a rejection, the way she sits as if she’s ready to leave again. The hands fade a little with this new, concerning discovery. She had known… but Elisabet hadn’t understood, fully, how Aloy’s upbringing would manifest. Nor had she grasped her place in Aloy’s world. She thought she wouldn’t need to, because she was supposed to be dead and the dead do not care.

There’s… a disconnect. A large part of Elisabet finds it extremely uncomfortable to be sitting so close, to be sharing space, with someone she doesn’t know or trust. Someone who wears her face, has enough of her mannerisms, yet moves and acts so differently. It’s something akin to dread, to horror. A putrid bit of herself even blames Aloy for this, for the world’s destiny being centered around the huntress. Fortunately, that bit is silenced by the knowledge that Aloy didn’t choose for things to happen this way and that Elisabet had more of a hand in the ending of her world than Aloy ever will. Not that it’s hard to remind herself of these two facts, seeing as everywhere she looks now, there are only metal graves and Aloy’s weary eyes.

A smaller part of her- one that she now realizes has been much more present since Ted called her to his obnoxious tower- says differently. It drove her to leave a final message, to be paranoid with her coding, one that gave her random bits of information and what little memories she has of the game that represented her world. 

Her affectionately named Voice that has never failed in the times it deemed to present itself. That small, unknown part that has been cooing since it’s seen Aloy. It has never done that before. The one time her sixth sense had ever made its opinion known that strongly, she had been too enamored to listen, and it cost her dearly.

That one small, tiny, relatively incomparable part of her was the strongest voice. And Elisabet will be damned if she forgets to listen to it again. 

So, Elisabet clears her throat and lifts her fork, looking thoughtfully at the food. She glances to the side, flinching as she catches Aloy staring at her. The tips of Aloy’s ears burn and she looks away, putting a piece of meat in her mouth to cover up the fact that she’s been staring.

“Here.”

Elisabet forks a thick piece of meat onto Aloy’s plate and shoves some of her vegetables along with it.

“No- you should eat! You haven’t completely recovered from the fever-”

Aloy lurches up, trying to put the bird meat back on Elisabet's plate before freezing. Elisabet had placed a hand on her wrist, physically stopping Aloy's fork occupied hand from moving towards her plate.

“Yeah, no. You’re the one getting us food and getting us off of this mountain. That won’t happen if you eat like that. Eat more.”

Elisabet gently pushes Aloy's hand back, and pointedly glared at Aloy’s plate to tell Aloy to eat. Clearly, the Miriam patented glare is effective even on post-apocalyptic kickass teenagers because Aloy folds like wet paper. She ducks her head and obediently starts eating again. Elisabet manages a small smile and they sit, Aloy sitting a little straighter and a little more comfortably.

“We have a few days before I really need to get going.”

"It's fine. We should leave as soon as possible so you can do whatever needs to be done." 

Elisabet was pushing her away again. Maybe last night was a test of how much Elisabet could stand being close to her. After Aloy laid down to sleep, thinking that turkey might be her new favorite food, Elisabet stayed up watching the data she’s collected over the months of traveling. Come morning, her older counterpart was pale and withdrawn, avoiding physical contact and not looking directly at Aloy.

“Is this related to HADES? And whoever Sylens is?” Elisabet asks, like she doesn’t already have a clue of when and where she is in the timeline.

Aloy blinks, shoving away the creeping doubts gripping her heart. 

“Sylens?”

“Yes. I believe you told him to “shut up, Sylens, like you have any room to talk” when I was down and out. I’m not sure, I wasn’t quite as clear headed as I am now.”

“If you meet him, you’ll see. He’s a lot of things and an ass is definitely one of them.” Aloy mutters, “HADES is trying to take over the spire- the tower ATHENA built to transmit the shutdown code for the FARO robots- and I’m going to Meridian, which is the city in between HADES and the spire, to warn them.”

“And they’ll listen to you?”

Aloy straightens up because yes, they’ll listen to her, but also because it’s the first time Elisabet has properly looked at her this entire day. The phantom warmth from the meal last night lingers at her wrist.

“I kind of saved their king. And their city from being blown up.”

“... huh.” Elisabet blinks, hands momentarily pausing from packing away her pendant necklace into a spare bag she quietly requested this morning. Her memories might have mentioned that…?

“It- it might not be safe in Meridian, so I might drop you off somewhere beforehand.” Aloy reluctantly says.

The only options for actual safety would be the Cut, Meridian, or… the Nora.

Aloy wrinkles her nose, reluctant to let Elisabet see the tribe. It feels fragile, what little rapport they’ve built since yesterday evening, and Aloy is loathe to expose Elisabet to something that believes- 

What if she hates you like the Nora did?

“Oh? Where might that be?”

“It’s where… my tribe is. The Nora.”

Elisabet levels a thoughtful gaze at her, saying nothing. Aloy looks away, packing up the leather bag of medicinal plants. She busies herself with restitching one of the Banuk outfits to fit the Elisabet’s slighter frame, avoiding the sidelong glances she can feel Elisabet direct at her in between her information perusal on the Focus. She desperately wracks her brain to find something, anything, to move attention away from the topic she brought up herself.

“Do you know what a looking glass is?” Aloy blurts out.

“... What?” Elisabet asks, looking taken aback from the sudden topic change.

“I met this Oseram delver in the ruins up in the Cut. He was looking for a “looking glass” to replace the one he and his mother had.”

“Oseram delver?”

“Oh, the Oseram are a group of people that specialize in working with metal. They’re known for their skill in the forge, being loud, ale, and knowing how to have a good time- so Erend says.”

“Delvers?”

“They scrounge around in ruins to find new things- in the Old Ones ruins… of your civilization…” Aloy’s sentence falls off, her realizing that she’s telling an inhabitant of said civilization that there were people rooting around in the remains of her destroyed world. She stabs the metal needle back into the leather, quickly finishing off the sturdy stitches.

“We’re… called the Old Ones?” Elisabet asked, voice wobbling weirdly.

“... Yeah?”

“Hah!” Elisabet lets out a short laugh and Aloy breathes a sigh of relief. “Good to know archeology won’t ever die. That's the nicest way I've ever been called old, even if it is blunt.”

Aloy finishes the rest of the adjustment stitches, a strange bubbly feeling in her stomach. She stands up and slowly pads closer to Elisabet, holding up the Banuk clothing like an offering.

 “What about the Cut?” Elisabet asks, accepting the clothes and holding them up against herself, checking to see if it will fit.

“The Cut is Banuk lands, where these clothes come from. The Banuk are a group of warriors that emphasizes strength and actively seeks out challenges like fighting machines, the ones that come from the Cauldron- machine making places where HEPHAESTUS works.” She said wryly, a critical eye comparing the clothes to Elisabet’s body, marking the places that it could be tightened or loosened. A whole life without a Stitcher would ensure some level of skill in sewing.

“... Sounds like you have experience with that.” Elisabet takes the clothing, and steps back a little.

Aloy tries to swallow the ball of hurt, telling herself that she was overthinking things. Even so, Aloy can't help but over analyze every move Elisabet makes, trying desperately to adjust to them in order to find out how to... to make Elisabet like her, even a little bit.

“I- uh- I became their leader for a short while. And I... like fighting machines.”

Elisabet whips her head up from studying the blue dyed fabric, eyebrows raising.

“You… what?”

“Long story. It involves HEPHAESTUS and a challenge course contest.”

“Ah. Dick measuring contest?” Elisabet nods sagely. “Well, a looking glass is also another term for a mirror, something that reflects the image shown to it. I think there should be a bunch left in the… ruins. Probably places with more living areas.” Her voice seems to wilt and Aloy wincingly kicks herself for bringing up the topic.

“Thank you. I’ll make sure to let Gildun know.”

Elisabet looks around and glances back at Aloy.

“Is there… a place I can change?”

“Oh, there should be another room connected to this hallway, but it’s hard to get there since it’s a little tilted. I was going to go hunt so…” Aloy waves her hand around.

“Okay. Is there… a place where I can relieve myself?”

“I think outside on the side should be safe. There aren’t a lot of machines that make it all the way here because the climb is… precarious but there are flying machines, so watch the skies when you do go out.” Aloy fusses, missing the way Elisabet holds back a smile.

“Right. Thank you.”

They awkwardly look at each other for a couple of seconds before Aloy flees outside with her bow in hand.

Aloy once again gracefully descends the mountains, grunts and curses included. She does what she can with the supplies she has to create a safer, walkable walkway down the inordinately steep and treacherous cliffside. Considering the metal corpse of the Stormbird was still sprawled out in the plains, it’s less effort than necessary.

Finally, time to breathe and space to relax. With Elisabet up and decidedly not in danger of dying via cryo-induced hypothermia, Aloy can finally enjoy the hunt outside without the weight of that worry on her shoulders. Her shoulders flex, bow pulled back as she slams arrows into the eyes of new patrolling watchers. Aloy dashes and rolls and breathes in the cold air even as her blood pounds red-hot during a hunt. Her spear flashes, sliding in between corded frames and striking sparks against metal. Aloy savors the peace and stability that comes with hunting. 

Until we get to Nora lands.

She pulls her lips back in a small baring of teeth, annoyed at her souring thoughts. Her keen eyes track her prey, a bunny, and Aloy automatically threads her arrow through her bow and draws.

What if the Nora were right? She’s the closest thing to a mother I have and right now I’m not even good enough that she even wants to look at me.

The arrow flies and misses, the rabbit darting away. Aloy growls a short frustrated noise, nocking another arrow. She crouches, stealthily moving through the long grass and spots another rabbit. Perfect.

Maybe she’s just getting used to the world. It’s only been a day since she’s gotten up. And she probably went through all of the data last night. That’s some traumatic stuff. 

Aloy doesn’t miss this time. The point goes through the head and kills the rabbit instantly. She grabs her hunting knife and preps the rabbit for further processing. Aloy tugs a lock of hair in frustration avoiding getting blood on the strands, fear and stress and hope warring for a place in her heart.

For a minute there, Aloy loses herself to worry as her body goes through the mechanical motions of picking up herbs and foraging food.

What if a stray machine attacks her? Can Aloy protect Elisabet adequately? What if the Nora turns her against Aloy? Would they even need that much effort? She barely looked or talked to Aloy today, even though last night they shared a… family meal. What if Helis finds her and kills her like he did to Rost? Elisabet can’t defend herself.

A crunch pulls Aloy out of her spiraling thoughts and Aloy goes huntress-lax. The tell-tale whirring of a watcher for a herd of striders drone to her ears as Aloy quickly takes cover in the tall grass. She taps her focus and tags the watcher, waiting for it to come near her before quickly taking it down silently. She taps her focus again and tags the striders. With a crouching running start, she slides into place as smooth as a cat just as the strider turns around and she overrides it. 

The adrenaline of the hunt sings in her blood as she successfully ties together three striders and leads them to the back of the base, lugging all of the materials she managed to collect for the pathway on the way back. She scales the cliffs again, taking a short break in between.

By the time Aloy gets back to the top of the mountain, building the walkway as she goes, it is slightly in the afternoon and Elisabet stands there, waiting, wearing the Banuk garments and bag slung over her shoulders.

“Ready to go?”

Elisabet takes one last glance around the room, and turns her body to the exit. 

“Yes. Let’s get off of this mountain.”

Elisabet follows Aloy out, back into the world she'd given everything to save.

Chapter Text

I’ll be sad later , Elisabet decides as she nervously shuffles to the edge of solid ground. Her arms start to burn with adrenaline, her body prepping for the honest to god parkour course in front of her. Above a couple thousand feet drop, the fastest way to become a human pancake. Swell.

Elisabet tugs at the rope around her waist, mindful of the person attached to the other end.

“I hope this holds.” She mutters.

“It will.” 

Elisabet furrows her brows, clocking the rather brusque tone Aloy takes on but quickly shelves it in order to focus on the yellow painted handholds and definitely not on the rather impressive depth of the explosion. Nor the blue- oh so blue- sky she hasn’t seen in a long time now.

The moment she stepped out of GAIA Prime’s embrace, she glanced up and her throat seized. The blue sky, a blue that was taken over by red a long time ago, is back. The atmosphere is no longer dangerous. Elisabet, with Aloy standing quietly by her side, had inhaled deeply. Fresh air. Fresh air that smelled of water and dirt- something she missed dearly. Tears had come unbidden at the corner of her eyes and Aloy had hesitantly placed a hand on her shoulder. 

“You did it.”

Elisabet had laughed a bit hysterically in response, hands quickly wiping away the tears even as she took in breath after breath. She hadn’t thought of it before, but the air smelled like life.

“Yeah.”

And now… They’re here at the edge of the most terrifying drop Elisabet has ever seen.

“I’ll go ahead to that platform over there. Don’t start climbing until I get there.” Aloy points, her voice shifting into something more commanding. She is in her element.

“Got it.”

Elisabet is not interested in dying via dropping to her brutal death today. Just because she readily walked to her death, that doesn’t mean she wants her death to be painful. 

“Okay. Let’s do this.”

Aloy drops to the ledge, inching her way to the next hand hold. Elisabet watches in fascination as she smoothly makes her way, with powerful leaps and incredible hand gripping strength, to the platform she pointed out before. She’s seen professional climbers on holo-vids before, and none of them had moved with the confidence and sheer grace Aloy possesses.

Aloy drops to the platform and turns, taking out another rope to anchor herself to the platform and wall. She looks back at Elisabet and motions for her to begin climbing, eyes trained on Elisabet. With her heart in her throat, Elisabet sits down, twists her body, and lowers herself slowly to dangle off of the ledge. She inches slowly to the next handhold, arms beginning to strain, and hauls herself up to the next ledge and the next ledge. This continues on for some time before-

An ominous creeeeeeak followed by a loud, ear clawing squeal of tearing metal sounds out in the echoing pit. 

The smaller metal platform Elisabet just managed to hang onto trembles and, with a grinding 

crhreeeeeeeeck, 

it breaks off.

“AHHHHHHH!” Elisabet lets out a loud scream, hands dislodged from the no longer attached hand hold. She plummets downwards, stomach going to her throat, and the feeling of weightlessness tingling in her feet.

“ELISABET!” Aloy shouts, bracing her body for the sudden snapping of the rope.

“Hukk.” Elisabet chokes out, the rope tied around her waist tensing as the length of the rest of the rope thwips out from Aloy’s side.

Please don’t break. Pleasepleaseplease.

Her desperate prayers are answered, the rope holds and bounces her like the macabre end of a hanging. 

“ARE YOU OKAY?” Aloy’s distressed voice sounds out from somewhere above her. Elisabet hangs there for a second, everything trembling, just breathing.

“Elisabet??” Aloy calls again, voice strained.

She cautiously opens her eyes, staring at the place she was before the platform broke, slowly coming to her senses before swaying closer to the wall, managing to grip a lone ledge.

“Ay-” She coughs, throat hoarse from fear and adrenaline. “Aloy- do you think you can pull me up? There aren’t- there aren’t any hand holds to climb back up.”

“Ye-yeah. Just hold on, I’ve got you.”

Aloy begins to haul her towards the platform and Elisabet tremblingly lets go of the safe ledge.

By the time she all but collapses on the platform, she’s red in the face, panting, sweating, and shaking.

“Holy… how… do you do… this… all the… time?” She chokes out, sitting leaned against the uncomfortable rock wall.

Aloy leans over her, hovering. 

“I trained my entire life to do this.” She says quietly, water pouch in hand, stress lines appearing on her forehead. “Are you alright?”

“Fine. Just… gotta catch my breath. That was.”

“Scary.” Aloy finishes the sentence quietly.

“Thanks. For saving me. I’m… out of shape.” Elisabet jokes, trying to lighten the mood. She gratefully accepts the water, waiting until her lungs aren’t screaming bloody murder and for the shaking to stop to begin drinking.

“I’m also not recovering from the worst fever ever. Or, you know, just got out of being frozen.” Aloy dryly said, sitting back, watching Elisabet catch her breath.

“Somehow… I don’t think… you have room to speak… about moving when you shouldn’t.” Elisabet casually shoots back, tipping the mouth of the water pouch to drink. She misses the way Aloy blinks, surprised at the almost comfortable banter they slipped into.

Elisabet finishes sipping on the water, careful not to drink too much, and closes the pouch. Glancing back up, she watches Aloy unanchor herself with an unreadable look.

“Thank you.”

Aloy accepts the pouch wordlessly and reattaches it back to her belt.

“We do this one more time, and then it’ll be solid platforms to walk on, promise.” Aloy looks back at Elisabet, eyes squinting in consideration.

“Are you going to be okay? The next part is a lot longer.”

Elisabet quirks her lips up into a trembling smirk.

“I’m good to go. If I stay here too long, I’m never going to get up again.” 

She huffs, patting the dirt off of her gloves and runs a hand through her hair. Aloy watches the motion and nods, grimacing.

“Alright.”

Aloy drops again and makes her way to the next platform. Elisabet spends the next hour watching Aloy scale the side of the cliff mountain. She has to admit, climbing down the rock wall is much more efficient than having to hike the switchbacks she remembers seeing before. Hiking would have taken days. Not that there’s a particular path up to or down from the mountain anymore.

She waits for the line of long rope to go taut, the signal she needs to begin climbing, and sighs when she gets it. Another hour of very carefully climbing and testing the handholds as she goes, Elisabet’s begins trembling in exhaustion. Her muscles feel like they’re dipping in acid. Luckily, they reach the beginning of the platforms Aloy had made this morning.

“You made all of this?”

Aloy nods, eyes running over her work, and glances back towards Elisabet, worry clear in her eyes as she takes in Elisabet’s slumped posture.

That small part of Elisabet mentally shoves her, chanting “compliment her! compliment her!” She walks a few more steps to stand next to Aloy.

“That’s impressive. You… work fast,” Elisabet compliments awkwardly, but despite the delivery leaving much to be desired, she sees Aloy perk up subtly in her periphery.

The entity behind her memories lights up, bringing forth pictures of kittens to her mind side by side Aloy’s visage.

At that moment, Elisabet sort of… gives up. With her vibe checker’s concerningly unhinged approval, Elisabet resigns herself to the inevitability of Aloy’s presence in her life. Besides, the girl had just hauled her ass to safety, so an effort to be less reticent should be made. She shouldn't get too attached though. She's had enough of people she loves dying. 

She glances down, the writhing hands prominent against the snow, but less intrusive with Aloy’s presence.

This definitely has nothing to do with the growing fondness she’s already developing towards her… counterpart. Nope. 

Elisabet tears her eyes away from the hands, back to Aloy.

Aloy clears her throat, looking away. 

“The way down should be relatively safe but there might be machines prowling about. Stay behind me. If there are machines, you can crouch in the tall grass to hide from their gaze.” Aloy says, in a nostalgic tone.

“Alright.” Elisabet replies.

Aloy begins walking, untying the rope from her waist. Elisabet does the same.

An hour later, rope safely stowed away and the adrenaline of almost dying faded, Aloy points out a blue outline during their routine Focus check.

“We call those Watchers. They’ll alert other machines nearby to attack if they see you.”

“Those… are machines that Margo designed for HEPHAESTUS. What-”

“Ah. After GAIA… the machines became hostile. I talked to CYAN,” Elisabet nods in recognition. “and HEPHAESTUS seems to be trying to protect its machines from humans. You...saw them in the clips, right?”

“Yes. I just hadn’t realized…” Elisabet whispers, an odd note in her voice. Margo's peaceful machines should never attack humans or anything, ever. Sure, they had planned for the possibility, having learned from the Faro Swarm, and made sure the machines were easier to dispatch. Her memories from the Voice had told her so, but to face the reality is completely different.

“Yes.” Aloy tenses, resolutely looking away from Elisabet, shoulders curling in on themselves again. “It- we didn’t have Apollo so we didn’t know they were helpers. Every tribe hunts machines. They’re used as currency and supplies. HEPHAESTUS didn’t like that, so he actively made machines more lethal.”

Elisabet stays silent, lips pursed. Right. She knew it was like that, that machines are dangerous now. She did. But after watching Margo screaming as she died of asphyxiation, it feels wrong to destroy something she worked so hard on.

“You stay back here and I’ll handle the machines up ahead. It’s dangerous if you don’t know how to hunt them.”

“Alright.”

Aloy strides up to the boulder, checks her focus, and slides her way around the corner, climbing up the small cliff to get back onto the plain. Elisabet, after a moment’s deliberation, decides to tiptoe after her.

Holding on to the edge of the cliff with her head poking up, Elisabet stares in troubled amazement as Aloy sneaks behind the watcher and stabs it, seamlessly slipping into combat against a machine that can turn almost invisible and is shooting lasers. Eyes wide, Elisabet clenches her teeth together to avoid distracting Aloy as the stalker lunges towards her. Aloy slides underneath and stabs upwards. Elisabet checks her focus to both record and see what they call this machine.

A Stalker. That sounds totally not creepy at all.

Aloy springs back smoothly back into a crouch, diving into the nearest patch of grass, and wow, she really does blend in. After a moment, Aloy stands back up and begins walking back towards the bend.

She pauses when she sees Elisabet clutching the edge of the mini cliff.

“Elisabet? What are you doing here? I told you it was dangerous!” Aloy reprimanded, worried and upset. Even so, her hands were gentle in helping Elisabet up to the small plateau. Elisabet stares at the machines.

“Stalker is quite an apt name.” She stares at the dead machines on the ground, remembering Margo’s spiels about how the- the watchers would be so useful and so cute. Margo had a fixation on dinosaurs that Elisabet completely agreed with. After watching the machines bear down on Aloy though, she might be changing her mind. Suddenly, there's less guilt about hunting machines.

“Listen. I know- I know you miss Margo Shen. But some of these machines have sensors that can find you even when you’re hiding. It’s dangerous.” She snaps.

“Ah.” Elisabet shakes herself and looks back at Aloy. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

“Uh.” Aloy pauses. “Okay. Just don’t do it again.”

Elisabet finds herself amused. Perhaps if she was younger, she would have argued. She’s older now and has survived a literal world ending apocalypse. She knows when she’s out of her depth.

“I can’t promise you that but I can promise you I’ll try to be more careful.”

Aloy closes her eyes, looking like she was praying for patience. She looks back at Elisabet’s face and what she saw there must have convinced her because she says, “That’s probably going to be the best I can get, huh.”

“Absolutely. That was impressive, by the way.”

“What?”

“The way you took them down, that was impressive.”

“Oh. Thank you.” Aloy smiles, shoulders going back up and losing its defensive curl. Elisabet returns an awkward smile, and takes her hand back from Aloy’s.

She accepts compliments on her hunting skills. Noted.

Elisabet walks to the Watcher and Aloy follows, returning to loot the body. As Aloy knelt down to strip the machine of its parts, Elisabet touches the tall grass.

“I didn’t think I’d be able to see plants like this ever again.” Her voice is velvet soft, the stalk of grass in between her fingers treated like spun gold and her gaze faraway.

Aloy doesn’t know what to say to that, so she simply nods, throat tight in sympathy.

Elisabet manages to gather herself, not plucking the stalk of grass. Instead, she gently explores the patch of grass, delighted at the bugs that live in there. At the end of her life, that last walk home, she had not seen anything but metal and dust. Eventually, she stands from her crouched position in middle of the grass, embarrassed but smiling.

“I didn’t think her fixation on dinosaurs would turn out like this.” Elisabet stands idle as Aloy strips the machines for parts.

“Dinosaurs?” Aloy asks, elbows deep in the wiring.

“Ancient reptiles, pretty much. Think lizards but the size of these machines and bigger. They went extinct about 65 million years ago, give or take a thousand. All of the machines Margo designed were based off of an animal that existed at one point in time. Watchers are based on the alvarezsaurus, I think. Bipedal, small arms, and small size wise.”

Elisabet launches into a spiel about dinosaurs that Aloy attentively listens to as she strips the machines and begins walking again. She’s absorbing the information like a sponge, Elisabet notices, and that’s what keeps her talking. That, and she definitely hyper fixated on dinosaurs as a phase. And horses. And robots. And… a lot of things. Like Egyptian Mythology.

“There were dinosaurs that existed before grass did.”

“Before grass??” Aloy repeated, boggled. As she walks, Aloy seems to have gained a slight pep to her steps. 

“Yes. Dinosaurs are also related to birds, instead of reptiles, but their physiology is closer to that of lizards. Margo’s fav-”

Elisabet abruptly ends her spiel to breathe through the grief that Margo’s name evokes. She misses her friend and all the times they sat in the dining area, drinking coffee and bouncing between dinosaurs and the latest robotic advancements. She looks off into the distance, tense and unwilling to let Aloy see her eyes water.

Aloy sucks in a painful breath, catching the way Elisabet wanted to stop talking, and walks a little faster. She’s thankful that Elisabet is following behind, because she can’t seem to get rid of the hurt that must surely be showing on her face. 

It must be grief. She thinks.

Or she just doesn’t want to share more than shallow details with you , an insidious part of her whispers. 

She hates it, but Aloy couldn’t deny it completely when that voice has been proven right on too many occasions.

Aloy and Elisabet continue down the mountain, this time with subdued conversations that they both tried to blame on being cautious of their surroundings. Denial isn’t just a river. 

Before too long, they reach the bottom of the mountain as the sun begins to set. They decide to rest, as Elisabet had reached the end of her admittedly poor stamina a while ago.

“We’ll set up camp here. There aren’t any machine herds nearby, so this should be a safe spot.” Voice rigid, Aloy shuffles away from Elisabet as fast as possible the moment she secured the area.

“Alright.”

They set up camp, Elisabet finding that setting up camp in this new world wasn’t so different from what she knows. Her eyes gentle, hands and minds eased into the bittersweet familiarity of a cherished pastime. 

Aloy starts a fire, bringing out another turkey she shot on the way down. As she cooks it, Aloy lets out a snort of amusement. Elisabet looks over, quirking her eyebrow. 

Ah, things have been awkward. Elisabet guiltily thinks. She rubs at her cold reddened nose as she scrambles for something to talk about. Aloy, taking her gestures as a silent question, explains why she was laughing at the turkey.

“I met this group of Banuk hunters- they were trying to come up with a name for their hunting party and one of the uh, questionable, options included the “Burning Turkeys.’”

Elisabet lets out a quiet chuckle, shaking her head. She doesn’t miss the way Aloy’s eyes dart to her and that just makes her even guiltier. She doesn't know why the young woman kept looking at her like that, and why she wants to do anything to meet the expectation in that gaze. No, she knows why. She’s just not ready to face it- not yet.

Elisabet swallows, desperately scrambling through her mind for a harmless memory to share. 

She latches onto the first scene that the Voice in her head pushes towards her to continue the conversation.

“I burned a tree by accident once when I was a kid,” Elisabet offers, amusement leaking into her tone. “Burning turkey- hah- doesn’t seem too bad.”

“I heard the story. That you were telling GAIA.” Aloy hesitates, realizing that the data points she found might have been a serious breach of privacy.

“The audio files? Yeah…What I never told her was how I also set a whole slew of robots on fire. It wouldn’t have given her as much confidence in my technical skills, that’s for sure.” Elisabet waves it off and snickers.

Aloy smiles, the corners of her eyes crinkling. Despite everything that’s about to happen, she’s… glad to get this reprieve.

“So, what can you tell me about the Nora?”

And just like that, the feeling dissipates. Reluctance nips at her heart. She’s learned to stand with her shoulders back at her previous outcast identity, hurt and angry about it perhaps, but she’s never been one to hide what the Nora did to her. In front of Elisabet, all of that work and strength and pride disappears into a desperate want to appear undamaged in front of the one person whose opinion weighs more heavily than anyone else she’s met. Aloy fears that the part of her that asks “what did I do wrong?” will show, and that Elisabet will follow in the rejection the Nora tribe had offered her.

“That… depends on what you want to know.”

“Mmh. I figured I should learn about their customs before I’m dropped off. I don’t particularly want to offend someone, especially if they might be as good as you with that bow.”

Aloy smiles faintly at the compliment.

“They’re… isolated. The Nora lands considered sacred by them, and anywhere beyond the borders are tainted, forbidden. The authority order goes from High Matriarchs, which are usually elders that have three generations of descendants, Matriarchs, and Elders, and everyone else. People that have been proven fit to fight for the tribe are called Braves.”

Elisabet nods along, her mind pushing information into her head as Aloy speaks. Now, there’s more than the basics of who Aloy, the term “Nora” gaining depth beyond an adjective that went along with Aloy’s name.

“Tainted lands,” the whispering voice in Elisabet’s mind emphasizes, repeating the memory of Aloy saying those words over in her mind’s eye. Elisabet keeps her face straight as she directs another question towards Aloy.

“What does “tainted land” entail?”

“The Nora believe in a goddess, called the All-Mother. They think she’s a mountain, where ELEUTHIA-9 is.” Aloy grimaces, “The Sacred Lands is land they believe have been blessed by their Goddess. Tainted land is what they call territory that’s outside of Nora lands, and is outside of All-Mother’s sight. Any one who goes outside…”

Aloy pauses, reluctant but unwilling to lie. 

“They’re considered outcasts. I’m allowed to be out here because I have this Seeker mark, which is for people on missions with the Goddess’ protection.” she finishes, bracing herself for the inevitable questions.

Contrary to her expectations, Elisabet doesn’t pursue the topic.

Elisabet on the other hand was completely fed up with the voice and ignores the mental poking it has deigned to give her this time. The remnant of a former life was being extremely annoying. She slams a mental door down on it and instead does a wonderful rendition of her teenage-years people skills by stepping on a clear emotional landmine.

“Alright. What about you? Do you have family? Are they okay with you going out by yourself? You can handle yourself, obviously, but I’m sure they must be worried.”

Aloy winces, hands going up to the necklace Rost gave her. 

“I- well, he- I had a… father.”

A pause.

“He.. died a couple of months ago.” Aloy swallowed. Elisabet’s hands freeze above a little sprig of clover she was fiddling with.

“I didn’t think this could get anymore painfully awkward, but as always you exceed my expectations, Lis,” Margo’s voice shook inside of her head, the hallucination holding back a laugh.

Great, you too?

“I- I’m sorry to hear that. I’m… sure he was a good man.”

“Yeah- yes, he was. He died… saving me.” Aloy whispers.

“Then that just means he died saving someone he loves.” Elisabet frowns at her, seeing the obvious signs of survivor’s guilt she saw on her Alphas reflected in Aloy’s countenance. The hands beneath her feet pause, stunned at the way Elisabet saw the point and completely missed it by a hundred miles.

“... Thank you.” Aloy looks away, small beads of salty liquid gathering at the corners of her eyes.

It’s smoke, from the fire. Aloy stubbornly thinks, not wanting to cry in front of Elisabet.

Elisabet thinks back to the scenes she saw last night, drawing on her tenuous energy to pry her eyes open as she watched Aloy get attacked by a hideous man and his cult over and over again. She remembers the phantom sensation of tapping the multitude of folders and files, sorting it chronologically.

She remembers watching Aloy’s first encounter with the beefed up, bullet-collared leader of the cult. 

Helis, her Voice had hissed out, tandem to the horrible sounds the man choked out of the young woman as he held Aloy over the cliff.

Rost , her Voice had murmured, before the recording cut off as Rost drew his bow to shoot at Helis again. No further explanation was given.

So that’s who Rost was.

Elisabet looks at the blue markings on Aloy’s face and knows, without words, how much that man had meant to the young woman before her.

Hesitantly, Elisabet gets up to sit next to Aloy in a direct parallel of last night’s dinner, hoping she wouldn’t shift away like earlier. Aloy still trains her eyes away but she doesn’t move and Elisabet takes that as a win. 

They got up the next day, grunge gunking in their eyes. Aloy buries the remains of the fire and packs their gear.

Elisabet groans, body sore beyond belief. Aloy hands her a canister wrapped in cloth.

“It’s chillwater. It’ll help with the muscle ache.”

“Like an ice pack?” 

Elisabet unwraps the bundled package and peeks at the chill water. 

“Oh, the liquid nitrogen capsules. That’ll work. Thank you.” 

Elisabet sighs gratefully as she presses the heavily insulated canister against her arms and legs.

Aloy goes to override a couple of machines, Elisabet obediently not following this time. 

When she walks back, Elisabet lights up in the first full expression of happiness she’s had in a long time.

“Horses!” Elisabet strides over to the metal horses, Aloy’s copy of her machine catalog labeling it a Strider, eyes roving over the smaller metal version of a horse.

“Horses?”

“What these machines are based off of. Horses were a bit bigger though, some of them with their backs around head height.”

Aloy whistles, looking at the Striders in a new light.

“These are adorable. Pony sized.” With that, Elisabet hops and swings her leg over near side to slide into her seat. 

Aloy stares, wide eyed in surprise. Elisabet chuckles as her eyes squint happily.

“I’ve been riding horses since I was a girl.”

Elisabet grips the cables by the neck of her Strider, adjusting them in her hand and getting a proper grip. She spurs the horse into a slow canter, circling Aloy, and tests out her muscles.

“Yeah, I can handle the ride.” She looks back at Aloy, beaming with happiness.

Aloy’s breath catches in her throat, an unknown feeling welling in her with a bit of pride that she caused that smile. Or the Strider did, but she helped. She attaches the gear to a third strider and walks to the second, eyes considering. She looks at Elisabet and sets up some basic rules about traveling.

“If a machine chases us, keep going. Make sure you’re not riding into another herd of machines. I’ll handle it.”

“Works with me."

Aloy grins a sudden, smirky grin. She swings herself up on the back of her Strider, and challenges Elisabet to a race.

"Ready?”

“Get set.”

"GO!!!"

They grin at each other, borderline feral, and break into a gallop in unison.

Aloy cackles, urging her Strider the fastest it can go, hair whipping in the wind. Elisabet lets out a loud laugh and with a whoop of excitement, she races against the huntress, short hair blowing back. They dodge machines left and right, at one point accidentally getting a Sawtooth to chase them, and Aloy had to roll off of the Strider, slipping back into Huntress Calm to defeat the machine before it even had a chance of getting near Elisabet. Elisabet, who had let out a terrified expletive, continued galloping away, only circling back with Aloy’s strider in tow when the sounds of explosions and scraping metal died down. Aloy stands triumphantly in the middle of the dirt path, pulling out parts from the giant machine.

“Holy crap. That’s huge.”

Aloy grins at her, proud. Elisabet takes the time to rest her muscles again before they get back to riding. They leap over streams- Elisabet delightedly splashing up water like a child- push the Striders as fast as they can go. Not the fastest a normal horse usually can, but perhaps fast enough to match a pony.

Six hours later, breathless with adrenaline and the thrill of a good competition, they slow the Striders down to a fast canter. Elisabet admires the greenery and sheer life in the world around her as she speaks to Aloy.

“You put up a good fight, kid.” Elisabet grins at Aloy. “But I’ve still got it.”

Aloy returns the grin.

“That was amazing. We should race again, soon.”

“Of course.” 

Aloy warms at the easy agreement from Elisabet.

“Here, your posture’s great but try this?”

Aloy copies how Elisabet sits, firmer but loose enough to accommodate the Strider’s movements. As she looks in front to feel how the new sitting position feels, her grin fades when she catches sight of three older Nora Braves, ones that had survived, a scouting band.

Her shoulders tense, hoping they might not talk about her or even to her. 

Aloy had forgotten in her joy to check for her surroundings past the basics of machines and bandits. Elisabet, catching onto Aloy's sudden silence, looks around. She sits atop the metal beast, stone faced amidst charred tree corpses and destroyed fauna. Aloy whispers to her that they're near the heart of Nora land, and it'll be another thirty minute ride to get to the gates.

The Nora group walks past, two nodding at Aloy and blatantly doing a double take at Elisabet. The third one, disgust burning in his eyes, spat at the ground in front of Aloy.

"Move, outcast."

"Shut your mouth, Gretis!" 

One of his groupmates whack him soundly, glancing apologetically at Aloy who had stiffened into stone cold apathy.

"Pardon his rudeness, Anointed. His son died in the Proving and he hasn't been the same since."

"It's not rude if it's tru-" His other bandmate slap a hand over his mouth and bodily drags him away.

Aloy gives a shallow nod, but the damage has been done. Shaking slightly, she continues riding down the dirt road, terrified to look at Elisabet.

The sharp tang of metal etch itself between Elisabet’s teeth in concordance with the howling center of the hurricane the Voice impresses upon her mind. It’s broken through the mental door she slammed on it last night. Unknowingly, Elisabet’s eyes seem to sharpen, as she grits out an “Outcast?” while glaring bloody evisceration at the struggling, flailing body of the Nora brave that dared to insult her k- to insult Aloy.

“It doesn’t matter. Don’t worry about it.” Aloy stubbornly looks away from her.

“That damned- He just insulted you! That matters! You have the Seeker’s mark or something, right? You’re not an outcast.” 

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Aloy speeds up.

“Look at that, darling. She’s just like how you were as a teenager.”

I didn’t realize how frustrating that is. Sorry, mom.

“Don’t push her. I never pushed you, and you told me everything eventually.”

Elisabet inwardly groans and settles her anger to a cool hard edge, and leaves it in the holster for later use. As she rides behind Aloy, Elisabet rifles through the memories she had gotten from the voice. Nothing. Nothing about an outcast- only major events. She huffs and spurred her horse to a canter to ride next to Aloy, who looks at her and away, refusing to meet her eyes.

"Okay, kid. Just- tell me when you're ready."

Aloy nods, thinking, oh, so never.

They continue riding, Elisabet sending metal shoves at the Voice in her head for a goddamn explanation. The Voice sends her the mental equivalent of the bird- an image of Travis flipping someone off- and stubbornly goes dormant.

Suddenly, they come face to face with a massive band of Nora Braves.

“Aloy?” A young man exclaims, walking forward, eyes darting between Aloy and an older version of her.

“Seeker.” A stern woman greats, strides sharp and fierce as she greets Aloy, narrowed eyes trained on Elisabet in parts suspicion and confusion.

Aloy clears her throat, glances at Elisabet, eyes begging her to go along. Elisabet slowly nods, wondering what was about to come out of Aloy’s mouth.

“Uh, hey. I found…”

“Your mother.” The stern woman says.

Her what.

Chapter Text

The Braves stood in loose formation, alert for ambushes or wandering machines but also intensely focused on the scene in front of them, darting between their ever-serious War Chief, her son and the two red-headed women astride a Strider each. 

Heavy silence hung in the air at War Chief Sona’s words, pressing down upon Aloy’s shoulders. Aloy swears she can feel the sharp edge of a knife against her throat once more as she tensely prepares to do damage control in case Elisabet says something to the contrary. Thankfully, Elisabet only nods and stays silent, hands gripping at the thick cables of the Strider’s neck.

The Seeker squares her shoulders, an action that makes the weathered Braves grimace in empathy, to face the formidable War Chief Sona.

“Yes. I found my… mother.”

Her fingers twist around the blue cables as she steadies herself, bolstered by Elisabet’s lack of protest.

“This is Elisabet. My mother.”

Maybe if Aloy says it enough times, it might come true.

“May the Goddess embrace you.” Varl dips his head in respectful greeting. Elisabet mimics him, greeting stuck at her throat in the reeling sensation of all-these-people-think-Aloy’s-my-daughter and I-can’t-parent-I-can-barely-look-after-myself and the single word: mother???

However, she simply keeps her face neutrally pleasant. She kind of understands the lie Aloy is building and the necessity of it but the transition from acquaintance with the same face to mom is highly jarring.  

War-Chief Sona’s face remains stony, dark eyes carefully regarding the newcomer. She crosses her arms and nods, dark eyes sliding over back to Aloy even as she bows slightly to Elisabet.

Aloy has no idea if that nod meant acceptance or dismissal, but at least no one is getting hurt.

I’ll take it. Aloy decides. No point adding logs to a cooling forge.

“Why have you come back to Nora Lands, Anointed?” War-Chief Sona’s gravelly voice smoothed over the brief awkward silence. Aloy catches the moment Elisabet mouths the word ‘anointed’ with furrowed brows and begs to the Goddess that she doesn’t say anything too incriminating.

“As you can see, I’ve finished one of the Goddess’... tasks. I need a safe place for her to stay, before I fight the demon.”

Elisabet scrutinizes the Nora Braves as her newly appointed… daughter talks things out with War-Chief Sona, whom- in Elisabet’s humble opinion- is far more refreshing than most of the other leaders she’s had the displeasure of having to politik with. The few Nora Braves unlucky enough to lock gazes with the displaced scientist found themselves facing knife sharp green eyes, the intelligence in them flaying open the Braves in search of something to devour. A battle of first contact and of attrition.

They look away first. Elisabet has cowed greater or more terrible authorities than they, and the Braves stand no chance against a serious Elisabet… much like they stand no chance against a serious Aloy. 

“Perhaps when we had our full force, we could welcome your mother into the Goddess’ Embrace. Now, all of our available Braves are here, to march to war. If those killers return, those that are left will not have time for an outsider.”

Aloy frowns, a hint of unease slipping in between her ribs. Meridian isn’t safe and it won’t be safe, not with Hades on the loose and ready to rampage.

“The demon we’re fighting won’t attack All Mother’s Mountain. She’ll be safe there.”

“The tribe owes you a great debt, true. Even so, we are already breaking Nora laws by following you into the forbidden lands. To allow an outsider, even if she is your mother, into a sacred place…”

“It’s… the will of the goddess. For Elisabet to be safe. To hear her voice once more. And to do that, she needs to be safe.”

Elisabet sucks in a quiet breath. She had listened to GAIA’s last message the last two nights, curled up on the ground and holding back the torrent of tears and grief. For GAIA’s last thoughts to be of her… she had not known. The Voice had not told her. Perhaps there was a reason why.

“The Goddess… knew your mother? She has communed with Her?”

The gathered Braves collectively swivel their attention to Elisabet, who sits and pretends she’s their Goddess’ friend. That is, she pretends to be self assured when she isn’t.

“… Yes.” Aloy says. “She… made me in Elisabet’s image. My- mother was… dear to her. So we have to protect her. Surely, the will of the Goddess is more important than tribal laws.”

Aloy grits her teeth, despising the way she’s manipulating them. But she’s learned since then, since stepping out of the Embrace, that doing what feels comfortable is a privilege she no longer has.

“If that is the will of the Goddess, it shall be done.” 

“Hold on.” 

War-Chief Sona inwardly sighs, already recognizing the obstinate set of Elisabet’s chin mirrored by the equally stubborn Aloy, and motions for the Braves to continue forward so that the four of them could speak more privately. Aloy shoots her older counterpart a pleading look, hands clenching on the wires so tightly, her hands turn white.

Images of Helis, corrupted robots, and all the ways Elisabet could get hurt in Meridian thundering to the forefront of her thoughts.

That will never happen. I won’t let it.

“I-” Elisabet started, but before the Old One can work through her options, Sylens once again makes himself known to the two redheads.

“If you two are quite finished,” their respective focuses receive at the same time. “But I can only delay Eclipse advancement for so long. You will have, at best, four days left. Realistically, it’s looking far more likely to be three days before HADES makes good on its promise.”

Elisabet jolts. 

“Are you…Sylens?” 

Elisabet doesn’t actually need a confirmation from the man, her Voice’s nearly audible hissing at his name clued her in the moment he started speaking.

War-Chief Sona and Varl stare up at them, mirroring expressions of bafflement on their faces.

“Good afternoon, Elisabet Sobeck.” He drawls. “There are quite a number of inquiries I have regarding your undoubtedly deep well of knowledge. Unfortunately, there is a distinct lack of time and I, and the rest of the rabble, would appreciate it if you both can pause your squabble long enough to save the world sometime this century. Not to mention, Meridian hasn’t been warned of their impending annihilation, so perhaps you should work towards that instead of getting distracted. Those sun-baked fools won’t have enough time to even be effective meat shields if you all dither along, debating safety.”

“She won’t be answering any of your questions if she dies .” Aloy hissed out.

Varl and Sona turn to stare at Aloy, sharing a glance between them that roughly translates to: “Maybe it’s a mother-line insanity?”

“I won’t be answering any at all if we all die, Aloy. He’s right, there isn’t time-” Elisabet shakes her head as Aloy opens her mouth again to protest. “I can handle myself. Let me just- think for a bit.”

Aloy stares at her as if she’s seeing her for the first time again, albeit with a great deal more of disbelief and far less fuzzy feelings.

Elisabet, in turn, stays silent as she considers Aloy. The older woman, in front of Aloy’s eyes, blinks and straightens, eyes going hazy in thought. Aloy waits with bated breath as Elisabet seems to argue with herself, expressions morphing to either neutral or irritated.

Elisabet, on the other hand, is having an intense inner argument.

She’s tired. The strategy is sound. She’d be safe in ELEUTHIA, since the cradle facilities and those of Zero Dawn were made to be as safe from the Faro Plague as possible. It’s a veritable fortress, like many of the other pods-bearing places were made to be.

On the other hand, she’s never been one to run when things get dicey. Not to mention, this war was indirectly her fault anyways and if Elisabet Sobeck was known for anything, it’s spitting in the face of logic.

As the silence drags on, War-Chief Sona clears her throat pointedly, tapping foot all but yelling her impatience to rejoin her Braves. 

“I’ll go with you… to Meridian?” Elisabet speaks, tone tired but determined.

Aloy chokes. She stares incredulously at Elisabet who leans over and places a hand on Aloy’s forearm.

“I can handle Faro robots. The, uh, Metal Demon is targeting the deactivation tower, right? Then they won’t target too much of the city, only enough to get to where they need to go.”

“Faro robots won’t be the only danger!” Aloy retorted.

“Then explain to me what the dangers are, Aloy.” Elisabet counters calmly.

“The Eclipse, who all have focuses . Other, non Faro machines. A collapsing building!” Aloy gestures with her other hand.

“Aloy-” Elisabet breaks off before her tone could get harsh, mind wracking through things she could say to convince the young woman.

“It’ll be safer in All Mother Mountain!” Aloy snaps.

“And how long will it take to get to the mountain from here? And from there, to Meridian?”

“If I ride, we’ll have enough time to warn them. You look like half a Strider bump from death!”

“My safety isn’t as important as the fate of the world, Aloy!” Elisabet snaps.

Aloy opens her mouth to say something but thinks better of it. 

Elisabet softens her glare. “I know that better than anyone. So, please.”

“The Braves-” Aloy tries again. Sylens sighs, and audibly cuts the connection.

“You’re going to need everyone you can, to fight those robots. I can deal with a little bit of discomfort.” 

“It’s not a “bit” of discomfort. You could get killed!”

“So can you!” Aloy jerks back, eyes wide. Elisabet’s voice quiets, allowing the weight of surviving the first, and hopefully the only, goddamn robot apocalypse lend credence to her words. “We’re going.”

Aloy levels a flinty stare at Elisabet and clenches her jaw. After a bit, she averts her eyes and shakes off Elisabet’s hand.

“Fine.” Her tone hard, Aloy tugs her Strider around and begins to walk towards the band of Braves.

“Aloy, wait!” Varl calls, jogging a bit to fast walk at Aloy’s side.

Aloy slows the Strider and, without glancing back, stonily says, “We’ll stay with the Braves. I’ll go ahead once it’s closer.”

“To Meridian, then.” War-Chief Sona says.

“Yes.”

Elisabet shares a moment of understanding with Sona as they trade a look and they both release a sigh. The two older women turn and make their way towards the war party.

As the war party moved along, Aloy rode in silence, scowl pulling at her lips. Varl walks next to her, nervously staying away from the blue-glow of the friendly machine.

“Sooo… your mother.” 

Aloy makes an uncomfortable noise. She is so unbearably furious with Elisabet’s lack of self preservation- the woman still looks drawn and exhausted. And yet- yet, that one small title still sends a thrill and a rush of warmth.

The concern Elisabet directed at her- she… Aloy could count the people who’d be genuinely concerned for her safety on one hand. But she’s not sure if it was concern or distrust of her abilities. All of it and the thought of Helis meeting Elisabet makes her sick to her stomach.

“Hey,” Varl soothes, his big brother instincts overpowering the fear of getting too close to the Strider. “I know you’re worried about her, but she seems like she can handle herself.”

“She doesn’t even know how to hold a spear!” Agitated, the Nora huntress shuffles in her seat.

“I know… but I think she’s coming because she’s worried about you.”

“About me?! What about her?! I’ve survived just fine the past nineteen years, even better but-” Aloy growls, incensed. 

“I know- you’re the most capable of us all.” Varl soothes again, the note of surety in his voice ebbs some of the anger gnawing at Aloy’s gut. “But she has that look- no, listen- that my mom had when Vala would go do something dangerous.”

“... What?”

“Yeah. I think it’s just a mom thing- to worry when their hard headed daughters go off to do something dangerous.” Varl looks up at Aloy consideringly. “Remember when my mother left the Gate for me to guard to go after Vala’s murderers? That was the most reckless and furious I’ve ever seen her. The only time I’ve ever seen her like that was when Vala and I got lost in the Embrace as children and a Scrapper attacked us. She blocked the lunge with her body and speared the thing in one go.”

Aloy blinks down at Varl, and glances back at War-Chief Sona. “Really?”

“Yeah, she’s got the scars to prove it. Scrapper mauled her back. She stabbed it. And then she lectured us until our ears blistered, all the while she’s bleeding out.” Varl snickers. 

“That sounds like her.” Aloy mutters.

“So, what I am trying to say is that I am sure Elisabet is simply worried for you, Aloy.”

Aloy deflates.

“... You think so?” Her voice gets small, unsure.

“Of course. She’s your mother, isn’t she?”

Aloy purses her lips, looking away. Her gaze is more thoughtful now, instead of angry, so Varl quits while he’s ahead and goes back to striding warily next to the Strider.

What would I know about mothers? Aloy thinks, spitefully. Regardless of her thoughts, the white knuckled grip she’s had on the Strider loosens.

“Was she alive this entire time?”

Aloy stills for a split second, internally panicking. She might not be too happy with Elisabet right now, but that doesn’t mean she wants Varl to think badly of Elisabet. On the other hand, the subject of cryogenics is… a lot for one conversation.

“Kind of.”

“Kind of?”

Aloy turns her head towards Varl, analyzing his neutral but still kind tone.

“It’s… a long story.” 

“… Alright.”

“Sorry Varl, it’s uh, it’s complicated.”

“If- if the Goddess left the knowledge just for you to know, you shouldn’t tell me.”

“I’m not completely sure how it happened either. Maybe one day, when you want to know more, I’ll show you?” 

Varl nods and with that, Aloy and Varl lapsed back into silence, each with their own swirling thoughts and growing curiosity to wrangle.

After another hour of travel, Elisabet too-casually pulls her Strider next to Aloy’s. Varl speeds up to join his mother at the forefront of the war party, social skills propelling him outside of the exploding blaze area. Aloy lifts her chin, determined to only give monosyllabic answers. Hopefully Elisabet doesn’t ask about-

“So…” Elisabet begins as soon as Varl steps out of hearing range. “Mother?” She asked, echoing Varl.

-the unfortunately unavoidable, un-monosyllabic friendly topic Aloy was hoping to avoid. Grazer dung.

“I… wasn’t expecting to come back with-” Here, Aloy flaps a half-hearted hand at Elisabet. “-you, alive. Telling them you’re my… mother is the easiest way to make sure you stay safe and protected.”

She side-eyes the older woman.

“Not that it was needed, apparently.” Aloy muttered, a mulish expression flashing across her face. She inhales a long breath of air, no longer smelling the trace of ash as they pass Mother’s Crown.

“That- people will probably keep on… assuming you’re my mother. I can’t really stop them since we look too much alike, but if you want… I can say you’re an aunt… or something.” She reluctantly offers up an alternate solution, tone reluctant and sullen.

Elisabet, in turn, side-eyes her for a long moment before looking forward with a straight face. They follow the band of Braves for another, considering, five minutes.

Aloy, in those five minutes, wants to take back everything she just said. If Elisabet doesn’t want to be known as her mom… that would- Aloy does not finish that thought.

Finally, Elisabet says quietly, “It’d probably be simpler if we kept it like that.”

Aloy’s breath hitched, a trembling, fragile feeling swelling underneath her eyes and in her throat but she stamps it down.

“Right.”

“... And, as for earlier, I apologize.” Elisabet says, now being the one to look away. “I hadn’t meant to… undermine you.”

“Right.”

Elisabet clears her throat awkwardly as Aloy tries to force the words out of her mouth.

“No, it’s fine. I just-”  

Aloy just wants, for once, to be selfish and keep Elisabet safe, even if that means the battle ahead would start with Aloy being less prepared. But as much as she wishes she could, there are larger things at stake than the safety of one woman. Even if that woman was Elisabet Sobeck herself.

“I just wanted to make sure you’d be safe away from the battle. Since you’re not- uh- completely at full strength. At all, actually. You’re kind of-” Aloy waves a hand, not willing to be too blunt for some odd reason.

“Squishy and unprepared for battle?” Elisabet snorts. Aloy reluctantly smiles at the easy admittance. “Yeah. Uh, thank you. For worrying. That’s- Good. Good of you, I mean. Yeah.”

They fall into an awkward silence as the two follow the Braves cutting through the mountainous area, Elisabet’s modified Banuk wear keeping her warm and toasty. Awkward seems to be a theme of theirs, they realize almost at the same time.

“Oh, Aloy.” Elisabet straightens, remembering the thing she dismissed earlier in favor of arguing with Aloy. Aloy blinks at her.

“I’m going to set up security measures on the Focus. That Sylens guy connected to our Focuses too easily for my comfort- plus, these don’t have near the level of protections my old one had. You want me to set some up for you too?”

“You can do that? Will it keep Sylens out?”

“... He’s been spying on you, hasn’t he?” Elisabet asked, tone flat. A surge of seething anger builds in her chest, especially when Aloy nods and grimaces. She doesn’t get the creeper vibe from him… but Sylens had better pray to whatever cosmic powers that would accept him because Elisabet’s going to introduce him to a whole new world of hurt.

Elisabet inhales. She exhales.

“Okay, yeah, I can do that. I’ll set it up on yours first, since you’re heading out to battle soon.” 

As the pair had a conversation at the back of the group, another pair was discussing them at the forefront of the group.

“What kind of name is Elisabet?”

“Mother!”

“What, Varl.”

“... Nevermind.”

As they made their way towards Daytower, Aloy and Elisabet dismount from their machines as the party made preparations to enter Daytower. Aloy would have preferred to ride further by herself- staying near the Nora Braves is uncomfortable at best- but she does not quite trust the party with Elisabet. Aloy also noticed that Elisabet’s face was drawn and tired, so she quietly dismissed any plans to go on ahead, at least for today. 

War-Chief Sona is approached by the group of Nora scouts the two women encountered earlier in the day as they get nearer to the border lookout.

“War-Chief Sona, the Goddess protects.”

“Soa. What lies ahead of Daytower?”

Soa, the huntress Elisabet recognizes as the one who dragged the cretin Gretis away, describes the giant Stormbird and the multiple groups of Striders the two women had seen on their way back to Nora territory, mild distaste and an extremely healthy dose of wariness showing on the huntress’ face.

Elisabet wholeheartedly agrees with the sentiment. Birds suck, with very few exceptions. She hopes Aloy’s never had to fight any of those deaths-by-sky. The reincarnated voice is suspiciously silent and Elisabet dreads .

Gretis scowls at them but makes no move to instigate a fight. Whether that’s because of his group mate, it matters little to the fed up Old One, Elisabet all but baring her teeth at him in a poor facsimile of a smile.

“Is the Anointed to come with us?” Soa asked, spotting the two redheads atop the tame Striders.

Elisabet hears Aloy say under her breath, “The Anointed can hear you and can speak for herself.” She quietly snorts, empathizing with Aloy. The young woman briefly smiles at her. Elisabet stills, for some reason hating the timidity that seeps into Aloy’s smile.

“That is correct. This is her mother… Elisabet.”

“Understood.” Soa winces, eyes darting to Elisabet and Gretis in a panic. War-Chief Sona stares at the reporting scout strangely and promptly decides not to bother. She did not become War-Chief by walking into obvious ambushes.

Aloy strides up to Sona and states, “I’ll go talk to Captain Balahn.” She points past the gate at a barely composed man, who rushed down as soon as he heard about the group of Nora Braves at the gates, led by Meridian’s savior. Aloy remembers what he said about her tribe during the Red Raids and, considering the commanding presence of Sona, she empathizes with his nervous demeanor.

“The faster, the better. Our Braves have not forgotten our suffering at the hands of the Carja and being this close has them wary-” War-Chief Sona raises her chin, eyes cold. “-and our Braves battle hungry.”

“Should we camp outside of Daytower, Chief Sona?” another Brave suggested, eyeing the stiff Carja soldiers. The metal clad soldiers were less lax than when Aloy had passed through all those times, their confident stance betrayed by wary eyes and tightening hands.

“No. It would be foolish to deny some hours of safety for the unknown when we do not have to.”

Aloy makes her way towards Balahn, swinging off the Strider, and lamenting her sudden demotion to ambassador-ship. People are so much more complicated than machines.

“Meridian’s savior! Here you are again. Should I be worried?” The Captain, while friendly, assesses the party of Nora Warriors at his gate in the dead of night.

Aloy glances behind her, absently noting the way the sitting Elisabet stood out amongst the Nora Braves like a Trampler amongst a herd of Watchers. She turns her attention back on the increasingly haggard looking captain.

“Probably not. I can promise you they’re not here to attack Meridian, not after I spent so much effort keeping King Avad alive. They’re needed for the battle ahead.”

“A battle, you say?”

Aloy nods grimly. 

“For Meridian and its very existence. I’m on the way to warn Avad, but be prepared to send as many soldiers as you can spare. They’ll be going up against the machines that kept the gates closed before.”

“I see. I admit, it is concerning that this many Nora are willing to leave the Sacred Lands, but… if they are coming to the aid of Meridian then I’ll tell my soldiers to stand down.”

“Okay. I’ll let them know.”

“By the Sun’s glare…” He sighs, rubbing a weary hand on his face. “Very well then, feel free to take those quarters over there,” Captain Balahn points towards a relatively distant structure, to the right of the main area. “If you, ah, have any needs, please do let me know.”

Captain Balahn whispers to Aloy, ”And any advice on improving relations with the Nora would not go unappreciated.”

Aloy nods. “Varl would probably be your best bet. He’s the one standing next to War-Chief Sona, her son.”

“Understood. Thank you.”

Aloy turns, nodding to War Chief Sona. Captain Balahn’s eyes rove over the war band, taking them in and lingering on Elisabet, before approaching War-Chief Sona to introduce himself. 

Aloy tells the Braves where to go and Captain Balahn offers to escort them there, which had the Braves bristling in offense at the thought of being escorted like dangerous children before Aloy waves them down to explain that Balahn didn’t participate in the Red Raids and that he actually helped her track down one of the people who did.

“Zaid,” Aloy begins, immediately abandoning her half-formed thoughts of diplomatic appeasements.

“Motherless murderer.” A Brave snarled. Aloy grimaces, insults hitting a little too close to home and making her tone more curt than usual.

“Yeah, he’s dead, Nakoa killed him.”

“Nakoa, niece of Solai?”

“Yes.”

Chief Sona, for once mirroring the expressions of many of her Braves, looks satisfied and nods in blood-thirsty approval. Elisabet had her neutral face of thought pasted on her face, only breaking it when she witnessed the lethal expression on Sona’s face, staring dazedly at Sona’s darkly satisfied expression. Huh.

“Perhaps the Carja truly wants to make amends. We will make camp here. Go.”

“Can’t say we didn’t deserve that.” Balahn mutters, Aloy snorting as he passes her. The Captain waves his soldiers down and escorts the war-party to their lodgings, striking up a conversation with Varl as he follows.

Elisabet stops next to Aloy, who helps the older woman down from the Strider. 

“They’d be nervous with a machine in the gates. We can get new Striders when we’re on the other side.” Aloy mutters to Elisabet, quickly turning the Striders around and towards the path before the area in front of the gates.

The Nora War-Band makes their way up and Elisabet quietly slips to the back, knowing her own fatigued walking pace can not keep up with the Braves, not without the Strider. Aloy lopes back to her side and the pair begin to make their way up the slope, the huntress staying behind to keep an eye on the struggling Old One.

“I have to add muscular atrophy to the notes.” Elisabet mutters, definitely feeling the sixteen hours of riding they just did. She rubs at her inner thighs, muscles screaming at the strain she had put it through.

“Are you okay?” Aloy rests a steady hand on Elisabet’s back, hesitantly patting it as the exhausted woman rests her hands on her knees.

“Yep- just- I’m so damn sore, everywhere. Go ahead, I’ll make it up there eventually.”

“I could carry you up, if you like.”

“I don’t even know how you can even consider that as an option. How are you not tired?” Elisabet straightens with a sigh and begins to walk again.

“I’m used to it.” Aloy follows, definitely not fluttering around with worry as she matches her pace with the exhausted Old One. Her heart twists, pinching together as she takes in the pallor of Elisabet’s face and the worn way her shoulders slumped as the two hiked up to the tower proper. It’s difficult to think the woman she saw in the holos- who stood with her shoulders straight and carried the weight of the world on them with seeming ease- could also be just… this tired.

“You are pretty athletic, is everyone like that?” Elisabet grumbles good naturedly. 

“Not the Carja nobles.”

Elisabet scrunches her face in mild disgust. 

“I don’t think I want to be compared to nobles.”

Aloy snorts, agreeing. The whining that burst forth from the line of nobles she had rushed past the first time she entered the palace had not left a favorable impression. Stagnant are those who indulge in excess and Aloy knows the Wilds are not kind to those who are arrogant in their over-ripened weakness.

They make their way up and are met with the majority of the Braves resting around a raised fire pit as they eat. On the side, Varl and Captain Balahn conversed.

Elisabet went to sit down by the Braves, whose conversations quieted as she approached, as Aloy split off once Elisabet settled in her seat to grab some needed food. 

The watchtower usually allows Carja inhabitants access to the variety of spices the main city enjoys, but the Nora had brought their own food, preparing and cooking it in vaguely familiar cooking implements. Aloy tilts her head, eyes sweeping over the spread available and deciding that today, Elisabet can handle heavier foods. Not that Nora cuisine could be considered heavy in the slightest. With that decided, Aloy pads forwards to retrieve the food.

Behind her, Elisabet is experiencing the typical introduction of Nora and Outsider. 

It’s frigid. Well, not quite, Elisabet amends, because a man of lean build approaches her and sits beside her. 

“Goddess bless, it’s an honor to meet Aloy’s mother.” He smiles, “My name is Teb.”

“Ah… Hello. Elisabet Sobeck.”

A mild feeling of approval is vaguely imprinted in her mind from her Voice and Elisabet uncoils slightly. She allows him a small smile, shifting to seem less closed off. She’s learned a couple of things from- better not think about that. 

“You… must know Aloy?”

“Yes. She saved me from a herd of machines when she was knee-high.”

“Oh?”

Teb nods, always up to praising Aloy when there’s a willing listener. 

“I fell off a cliff when running a Brave Trail and tumbled straight into a herd of machines. Aloy got me out of there, avoiding the machines with Goddess-given grace. Which, now that I think about the Goddess’ blessing, an outcast wouldn’t be able to…”

“She saved you?”

“Yes. I became a Stitcher after that and it’s thanks to Aloy we’ve even survived this long.”

“I see…”

If that was what Aloy got into as a child, she does not want to think about the kind of things her younger counterpart might get into. The voice laughs, quietly. Elisabet feels a shudder moving down her spine and knows her life was about to get exponentially more stressful. Right, well, time to change the subject before she pries into Aloy’s life. She mentally pats herself on the back at the modicum of self restraint despite the itch to pick at the problem until it’s solved.

“What’s training like for a hopeful Nora Brave?”

Well, she’s never been one for self preservation. Judging by the heart attack of a training regimen- who the fuck scales a giant cliff with practically no gear?- and the sheer near-casualness in which Aloy dispatched the machines they’ve crossed compared to the clunkier attempts by the few younger Braves accompanying them, Elisabet was starting to get that being an outcast was ten steps forward for deadly murder skills and ten steps back for… socialization.

As the atmosphere slowly relaxes back into the casual almost relaxation it had before she had sat down, Aloy plops next to her with two plates piled up with food surrounding bowls of soup and hands one of the plates to Elisabet who thanks her.

“What was your training like, Aloy?” Elisabet asks as the huntress sits down.

“I-uh- had individual training. Climbed a lot.” Aloy mumbled through a mouthful of food. 

“When did you start?”

“When did you start, Aloy?” Teb asks.

“The day we met. Rost was showing me how to hunt machines.”

“You saved me with no training?”

“I knew how to distract the watchers! And shoot a bow… kind of.” Aloy protests.

“Oh yes, because that’s clearly the peak of Nora skill. Seasoned Braves would have had trouble with that herd. There were at least six watchers!”

“Baby Aloy to the rescue.” Elisabet ribbed gently. Inwardly, she was horrified.

“ Ugh .”

“The paragon of stealth.”

“He thanked me with a hand-made outfit.”

Aloy points at herself, to the parts of the outfit she kept that were made by Teb. Elisabet ooh-ed and ahh-ed at his even stitching and the quality.

“I’m alive, thanks to you. I wouldn’t even be a Stitcher if it wasn’t for you.”

“It seems you deserve the thanks. It’s hard to accept, right?” Elisabet smiles knowingly, with a hint of something Aloy doesn’t want to figure out. 

“Yes, alright. You’re welcome. Anytime.” Aloy shoves another forkful of meat in her mouth. Chuckling, Elisabet dug into her food as Teb and Aloy pointed out common Nora cuisine.

In contrast to the quiet night they had, Elisabet and Aloy woke up to bustling activity and general chaos as the Nora and what little soldiers Daytower could spare prepared for their trek to Meridian. Despite changing her sleep schedule to match the deadlines for the Zero Dawn Project, Elisabet was a morning person. Is a morning person, now that she’s survived to see the morning. She basks in the rays of the sun like a cat as they get ready for departure. Despite enjoying the sun, Elisabet’s glad she’s changed into lighter wear that covered her trapped-in-a-freezer-for-hundreds-of-years pale skin. The middle aged woman can already feel her face starting to peel from the sunburn she got yesterday. Painful. 

 War Chief Sona had decided to send Varl as a scout and as extra protection for the Goddess’ friend, and they were to leave earlier than the party. The sun shone down on them as the two red-heads and Varl split from the Nora Braves to ride to Meridian, Aloy quickly finding Chargers and overriding them. She had slipped out and brought the three machines up as close as possible before either Varl or Elisabet had noticed. 

Aloy, Elisabet thinks, is determined to drive me into an early grave.

“Varl, stay with Elisabet.” 

“What?”

“I’m going to go take down the Stormbird.” The teenager had declared, eyes glinting with excitement as she charged ahead, bow drawn and dropping traps.

“Aloy, no.” Varl sighed, resigned.

“Wait- what? Aloy! No!” Elisabet said in tandem, hands reaching out to the speedy huntress. 

“Don’t worry!” She had shouted back, before slipping away. “I’ve done this before!”

“That’s what worries me!” Elisabet had shouted at her back, heart thudding to her throat.

Now, she’s watching with her heart in her throat as a gigantic, airplane sized, machine swoops down on Aloy, who shoots off arrows after arrows, explosions and the sound of crackling electricity going off at intervals.

Elisabet clutches her metaphorical pearls as Aloy barely dodges the diving claws of the Stormbird and pops back up like a battle hungry jack in the box, spear swinging with deadly precision.

Forget her near death via the cliff, watching Aloy take down a massive Stormbird replaced that experience as one of the most harrowing experiences Elisabet’s ever been in by a mile. Somehow, it’s even worse than running from a Horus. She has no idea how Varl remained unconcerned, even though he was watching with a keen eye the whole time he was practicing on how to ride the machine.

By the time Aloy bounds back with a beaming smile, Elisabet’s heart was halfway giving up on beating.

“Done. The rest of the soldiers won’t have to worry about attracting the Stormbird’s attention.”

Aloy tilts her head worriedly at Elisabet’s red face.

“Are you alright?”

Elisabet lets out a warbling wheeze of stress. 

“Maybe we should rest.” Aloy says, ignoring the amused look on Varl’s face in favor of fussing over Elisabet.

“No, I’m- I’m fine. Are you fine?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

“You did just fight a machine several times your size.” Varl drawls, muscled arms crossing as he leans back on his Charger.

“...And?”

“Nevermind.” Elisabet flaps a hand near her face, willing the heat of stress and worry away from her face. “Let’s just go.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Let’s go.” Elisabet straightens, trying to put the horrid images of Aloy barely missing her meeting with death away. She even manages to pull herself together enough to teach Varl how to ride, wincing in sympathy when she sees him swaying precariously on the back of the Charger. Aloy grins, wild and free as they race towards Meridian.

“Elisabet?” Aloy slows her Charger and turns it around. Varl slows also, looking worriedly at the dazed Old One. They're halfway to their destination, but Elisabet had drifted to a stop, eyes trained on something to the right.

“Huh?” Elisabet murmurs back, eyes fixed on rusted metal. Aloy falls silent, implicitly understanding. She motions to Varl that they’re stopping here, quietly taking the opportunity for a break.

She was staring at one of the Faro robots, leg deep in an empty school bus. Elisabet wonders how many people were in that bus. She wonders if there were kids on it. She wonders how many of them died painfully, so that she can smell the grass and breathe in clean air. She helped kill them… she’s the one that steadfastly lied to their faces about hope and survival. So why did she get to be the one remaining?

A piece of bread appears in front of her. Elisabet blinks and looks down at it.

“Oh, thank you.” Elisabet says, taking the bread. Aloy looks at her, concerned, but nods anyway. They take their lunch break in mostly contemplative silence, Varl silently putting together the things he’s noticed about Aloy’s mother.

“So, Elisabet.” Varl starts. Something about Aloy’s mother seems so… intimidating to speak to. Nevertheless, Elisabet answers him with a tilt of her head, bread stuffed in her mouth.

Huh. Exactly like Aloy. 

“What was it like, communing with the Goddess? If I may ask, that is.”

“Uh.” Elisabet blinks, shaken from her regrets by the unexpected question. “She was… kind. Nurturing. Kind of sassy, sometimes.”

Elisabet has no idea what she was saying, considering she interacted with GAIA more than ELEUTHIA. She pretends she's talking about GAIA, missing her fiercely. She's had friends she'd known for longer that she misses less than her AI.

“You sound like you were friends with her." Varl said, awed.

"Yeah. We... we were friends."

"Did she truly defeat the Metal Devil?”

“What…?”

Aloy cuts in, “The Horus that attacked All-Mother mountain.”

“Ah,” Elisabet says. “Yes, you could say that.”

“Horus?” Varl asks. 

“That’s what the… All-Mother named them.” Aloy lies smoothly. Elisabet nods along, irritated at Ted once more. Right, that’s why she named GAIA, GAIA. Ted really leaned into the whole Egyptian myth thing the two of them had back then when they were friends. Elisabet named GAIA and her sub-functions after Greek mythology out of sheer spite. She had a Greek mythology phase right after her Egyptian mythology one, so it fit.

“Huh. Should we also call them that?” Varl asks Aloy.

“No, it should be fine. Metal Devil, Horus, same thing.”

With that, they pack up and continue riding, Elisabet turning away from the sand rusted structures and frozen Faro bots.

As they arrived at the cobbled stone paths that marked the beginning of Meridian’s sprawling reach, Elisabet and Varl both imitated a pair of ducklings, wide eyed and amazed at the new sights. Elisabet adored the sight of life, grin building as she noticed the lush flora and evidence of thriving fauna surrounding the mesas the vast city was built on. They leave their mounts near the gates. It had nothing on San Francisco, but Elisabet found the sound of bustling city life comforting. Oddly enough, she missed the sirens and honking that San Francisco offered on a constant basis. 

The impact of such an arrival- three Striders, two Nora’s, and the Savior’s family- would be brought to Elisabet's attention later.

For now, as she follows her pseudo-daughter through the crowd, all Elisabet is concerned with is the amount of people around her. Not many of them were starving- no extremely starved, emaciated humans driven to cannibalism in sight.

This is what her work had created a future for. 

She thought she had said goodbye to San Francisco a long time ago.

Aloy slows down once more for Elisabet, deciding the stares she receives are well worth enduring for the awed smile of the woman behind her. Elisabet traces the shape and sound of the city with her mind, heart aching in the memory of her own city, lost to time. 

When they finally reached the palace, Elisabet had mostly pulled herself out of her nostalgia and old, loved grief. She watches as Aloy practically strides into the palace like she owns the place. Considering how the king treats her, Elisabet isn’t sure those cards are off the table. 

“Aloy, what brings you to Meridian? And with… guests?” King Avad stood before them, in his everyday robes. As royalty, this means luxurious robes not often worn or seen by the regular masses. 

“A threat.”

Varl respectfully guides Elisabet to one of the many benches when he notices the way she sways on the spot. Elisabet slumps into her seat, unsuccessfully wiping off the sweat she could feel at her neck, avoiding the sunburns she could feel building. A year of being shut indoors would do that to someone- even if they spent their formative years getting burnt on a ranch.

At least we had sunblock back then, dammit.

“Thank you,” she sighed, leaning her sweat-beaded forehead against the warm stone of the castle. Varl diligently stands beside her, awkward and unsure in a land that would have been considered one of the ultimate taboos- if not for Aloy. 

She eyes the way his forehead was significantly less sweaty than hers and sighs. She can feel the burn begin to peel at her face, a sensation she hasn’t felt for a long time.

“Of course.”

“This place is damn hot.”

Varl laughs at her grumbling.

Elisabet sits there, soaking in the warm rays of the afternoon sun and decidedly enjoying the shade as she and Varl listen in on the conversation between King Avad and Aloy. After a bit, a man walks out of the room. Blameless Marad nods at the two resting travelers and leaves looking like a man on a mission.

“Aloy, allow me to apologize for my behavior before. After everything that happened with Ersa, I was… confused.”

A shift of clothing. 

“If we’re to fight together on the brink of life and death, I’d prefer to do so with your forgiveness.”

Elisabet shares a startled look with Varl. The two eavesdroppers immediately cease all movement, leaning in to hear more. Out of the corner of her eyes, Elisabet catches some of the guards doing the same.

“Then you have it… as long as you don’t confuse me with her again.”

“Even a king learns his lessons. Now, it’ll take time to prepare our defenses. Please, tell me what you can, of our enemy. And who it is that stands beyond this room.”

A short while later, Aloy walks out with Avad in tow.

“Avad, this is… my mother. Elisabet, this is King Avad.”

“May the Sun’s blessing shine upon you, Elisabet.” Avad greets her, a note of nervousness in his voice.

“Yes… and you, Your Highness.” Her tone is mildly respectful, but not intimidated. King Avad marvels at how alike mother and daughter are, unwavering in front of him. He knows well what his position entails and what it demands from people. He’s seen nobles quail and bow and scrape even with a mild look.

It’s refreshing.

“Avad is fine.”

“This is Varl of the Nora, son of War-Chief Sona.” Aloy diverts, looking uncomfortable.

The two greet each other, also awkwardly. Varl maintains his careful reserved demeanor but his distrust and discomfort for outside of the Sacred Lands allowed him to be more confident in speaking to the king.

“Please, feel free to look around the city. I hear that Burgin’s Bar is rather popular in regards to alcoholic drinks. It’s run by an Oseram, I believe, and the Oseram are quite passionate about their ale.”

“Funnily enough, I’ve gathered as much from Erend.” Aloy herds the two out of the castle, nodding at Avad and Marad. She leads them to a rather large apartment. Varl looks around-

“This place is yours?” Varl asks, admiring the fineries in the place.

“Avad gave it to me after I stopped Meridian from blowing up. A man who was being blackmailed by the Shadow Carja used to own it.”

Elisabet immediately goes to knead at the bridge of her nose, sighing at Varl’s open mouthed look of shock.

“She does that often.”

Varl turns towards the Old One.

“Drop increasingly shocking stories about herself doing incredible feats like they’re easy.” 

“Oh. Like the Stormbird.” Varl nods in commiseration.

“Do you two want to go out for a drink?” Aloy asks, poking her head out from the basement she disappeared into. Her hands are full of boards. “I’ll have to check on the defenses later.”

“I’m good. I think I need a break. This is,after all, tainted land. I need some time to adjust.”

“Sure.” Elisabet says, eager to go back out and experience city life once more. “The place King Avad recommended?” 

Aloy nods, striding to the door.

“See you in a bit, Varl.”

“Rest well, Varl.”

“Thank you. Have fun with Aloy!” Varl smirks.

Elisabet blinks, shaking her head in amusement. Varl is surprisingly sneakier than his upright demeanor would suggest. She follows Aloy out of the door. As they walk through the city, admiring the colors of a setting sun, to get to Burgin’s Bar, Aloy gives her a tour. Of a sort. 

“That person had his purse stolen,” she tells Elisabet. Said person turns and sees Aloy. He rushes towards her, greeting her excitedly. 

“Aloy!” He exclaims. They then dump a pile of the freshest fruit Elisabet’s seen in a long time into her arms. “Thank you, for saving the city, and my shards!”

“You’re welcome- but-” Aloy protests, ready to hand back the basket. 

“Oh, I haven’t seen fresh fruit like that in a while.” Elisabet says, studying the oranges and bananas with interest and delight. 

“… Thank you. I’ll accept it.” Aloy concedes. Elisabet picks up a rather fresh banana, eyeing it with delight. They only had dried bananas and a poor chemical imitation of it in the last few months of Zero Dawn.

“Have a wonderful day, Savior!”

Aloy sighs and hands Elisabet the basket, the latter wasting no time grabbing an apple and biting into it.

“Mmh.” Elisabet hums in approval, swallowing the deliciously fresh bite of fruit. “Is the currency here shards?” Elisabet asks Aloy.

“Yeah. There’s these smooth, arrowlike triangles that line the machines’ innards, so we use that to make arrows and as currency.”

“Huh. So production of currency is dependent on the set amount of machines that the facilities crank out.”

“Yeah.” 

And so it went, Aloy greeting and being greeted by people she’s helped out one way or another. Elisabet smiles at her back, watching and feeling the same kind of pride she had felt in GAIA as Aloy flusteredly said hello to people that adored her.

She definitely inherited my inability to take a compliment.

Elisabet blinks. Inherited ?

Oh.

Elisabet panics.

Oh no.

I got attached!

As they strolled through the city to try to enjoy a peaceful night before the storm, Meridian’s inhabitants bustled around them, discreetly passing word of gossip. They’re unknowing of what calamity might befall them but nevertheless acutely aware of the unrest that laid beneath the city heralded by footfalls the Sundom’s elite and of the unprecedented Nora’s arrival.

The Savior of Meridian, the people noticed, had headed into the palace with an air of urgency. Those who were present when Aloy emerged from an exploding building recognized the look on her face as they passed her.

Even those who had not seen Aloy felt the unsettling pace the guards had launched into, even as they tried for subtlety. The current citizens of Meridian survived under the Mad King’s tyrannical rule, after all, and they know war. 

They knew, despite the lack of a city wide announcement, that violence is about to beat at their walls again, and that they’ll have to fight for another Sun King. 

Admittedly, this Sun King is much easier to fight for. 

So, in the lack of information but enough evidence to incite preparations, the people gossiped and spread word of the mysterious woman. Information about her is interwoven in between the lines at the market, inflamed by fans who all wanted to know everything about their icon’s personal life, and slipped into conversation about a noble’s whatever relatives.

Nightfall saw the two women heading outside, crossing a bridge to a well established tavern known for its outdoor terrace seating. Try as they might, they could not eavesdrop as the Savior of Meridian had obtained the best seat in the house, isolated by plants of differing colors and species.

As they sit, Elisabet once more gratefully resting her extremely sore body, Elisabet looks up, the light of the stars and the full moon soothing the hands that grasp at her feet.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of this.” She says, eyes fixed on the heavens and hands hovering above the greenery that surrounded the pair. Aloy looks at her… she looks at Elisabet with sad eyes and quietly agrees.

Elisabet eventually manages to tear her eyes away from the heavens to pick up the beer mug of famous “Oseram ale.” She sips at it, pausing at the taste. It’s not coffee… but it’ll do. She downs a bit more before asking Aloy the itching question burning at her mind since their brief entry at the palace. 

The Voice nudging at her also helps the conversation starter along, though that might as well have been the ale doing the pushing.

“So… Avad.”

Aloy groaned, ears burning but eyes quietly pained.

“He’s interested in you.” Elisabet smiles, eyes soft.

“I know… he’s a good man. A good king. It’s just-“

“You don’t want to be tied to that.”

Aloy nods.

“He’s… not my type. I don’t think anyone is, I don’t know. I’ve rejected him already, but…”

“He needs to get a hint?”

“Yeah.” Aloy grimaces. The tavern server rushes by with their drinks, shooting a starry-eyed look at the younger redhead. Aloy deepens her grimace and takes a long drag of her mead, the warm, sweet drink doing wonders for her fraying patience. Elisabet chuckles, taking a swig of her own drink. She wonders how long this peace will last. If, once again, if it will last after HADES. She still- the loss of GAIA, her friends, and their work… it’s somehow worse than the guilt of killing seven billion people.

“You know, I dated a diplomat once.”

Aloy’s eyes turn back to her.

“Was a lot like Avad,” Elisabet’s fingers tap an absent rhythm against her wooden stein. “He was a good egg, understanding.. But, politicians, you know? Despite their morals, they’ll always choose a compromise. And there were others, of course, even more selfish than that.”

“Even if we…” Aloy trails off, the sad downturn of Elisabet’s voice in the end being noted and filed away. Perhaps it is an open wound.

“A responsible king usually makes for a poor husband. His interest… will always come second to the crown, because he’s a good king.”

Aloy nods, swigging another mouthful. Elisabet can understand the sentiment. They sit in silence once more, each lost in their own thoughts, before a shout breaks the quiet.

“Aloy, Despite the Nora!” Aloy’s head lifts from her tankard, perking up and grinning at the familiar voice. She stands from her seat and scooches out of the booth to greet her, the people sitting near the entrance turning to watch the interaction with poorly veiled interest.

“Talanah, Despite the Carja Nobles!”

Elisabet leans back, interested in this new facet of her clone. This is the first time since she’s woken up that she’s seen Aloy so at ease. Before, it was like she was only comfortable in her skin out of spite. Now, with her friend, the stress building at the young woman’s temple seems to ease.

Talanah, in scuffed armor, strides up to the table and gives Aloy a friendly punch on the shoulder and subtly herding Aloy back into her seat as the huntress slides in next to her. 

“So, this must be the woman that has the entire city in a frenzy.”

Despite the friendly tone, Talanah is as skilled in verbal battles as actual combat, her sharp eyes picking out everything on Elisabet even as she smiles at her. It reminds Elisabet of someone, long lost. 

“Talanah, this is Elisabet. Elisabet, this is Talanah, the Sun-Hawk of the Hunter’s Lodge and my mentor.”

“Hello. Elisabet Sobeck.”

“Talanah. Sun’s greetings.” Talanah greets her politely, dipping into a shallow half bow over the table. 

“Ah, sun’s… greetings?”

Talanah grins. “Are you sure you’re related? Aloy was more of a spit-fire when we met.”

Elisabet laughs, relaxing against the back of her seat. The rather shy demeanor the young woman has in front of her is markedly different from the rather copious heroic accounts that circled the huntress. What Elisabet’s heard and the subsequent white hairs she can feel sprouting out of her scalp has granted her an epiphany; her mother must have felt the same way when Elisabet went out into the world and almost immediately started a green energy revolution. There were a lot of people after her life during that beginning period. Luckily, they mostly aimed their assassination efforts at Ted.

“I can believe that.” Elisabet tilts her head, taking in the mud smears and fresh scratches on Talanah’s armor. “You look a little worse for wear. Anything death-defying as Aloy seems to prefer?”

“No, no. Regular hunt. I don’t take on Thunderjaws like Aloy tends to do.”

“Thunderjaws?” Elisabet blinks questioningly at Aloy who shifts sheepishly, face promising an explanation on what a Thunderjaw is later. “Is that so? Is that how you two met?”

“That’s how she helped me overthrow the Hunter’s Lodge, yes. She’s more than earned her place, both as a hunter and my thrush.”

“A Thrush is a mentee sponsored by a Hawk, which is a hunter that was already in the Lodge.” Aloy provides the information seamlessly.

“Ah. So you two participated in a coup, huh? Sounds very in character.” Elisabet grins teasingly. “Any other stories I might want to hear?”

“I can brag about my Thrush anyday. Makes me look better since I’m mentoring someone so legendary, even if she can’t accept a proper compliment.”

Elisabet shifts, smirking at the dawning horror in Aloy’s face as the huntress catches sight of Elisabet’s reciprocated mischief.

“So you’ve noticed that too! But I was thinking of… less embellished stories.”

“Hah! Well, there was that one time Aloy managed to dodge certain death by slipping face first in-”

Aloy flushes, shoving Talanah lightly away from the table. 

“Okay! That’s good! We’ll talk later, Talanah!”

Aloy shoos the laughing Hawk from the booth.

“Are you sure you don’t want any more stories? It’s a good tradition before a big battle.” Talanah laughs, even if her offer carries a thread of genuine question.

“Maybe I’ll tell her how you ate tree dodging a Strider, what about that, Hawk of mine?” Aloy shoots back, gratefully denying the offer.

Elisabet pinches her lips together to avoid laughing, her crow’s feet deepening as she holds back snickers.

“Yeah, thought so.” Aloy scrunches her nose smugly, before turning serious. “You should prepare. It’ll be even harder than the Red Maw.”

“If you say so, Thrush.” Talanah offers Elisabet a tired nod. “May the sun set peacefully on your evening, Elisabet.”

“Same to you, Talanah.” Elisabet allows a tinge of her normal accent come out, and Talanah’s eyes lit up in fascination even as Aloy all but nudges her back out the door. They stop by the entrance to discuss something- perhaps the incoming battle- before Aloy walks back and stoutly sits back down, grumbling. But her mood is lighter, Elisabet notes.

Maybe her type isn’t kings, it’s scarily competent women that she has an established connection with. Elisabet presses her lips together in amusement. She commends Aloy’s taste in people, at least. 

“Trading stories doesn’t sound too bad.” Aloy says after a while, a hopeful note in her voice that Elisabet finds it hard pressed to shoot down.

“Okay, what do you want to know about?”

Aloy gets a weird look on her face before asking, “What was… what was your mother like? I- you thought I was her when you were sick so…”

“Oh.” Elisabet leans back once more. For her, even though hundreds of years had passed, she had thought of her mother in her last moments... only to wake up a blink later. “Well, her name was Miriam. She was a single mom, strong, steadfast. She taught me a lot of what I know. How to be kind. How to love life. How to reign in three loud herding dogs with a whistle. How to ride a horse.”

Elisabet smiles wistfully, lost in memories.

“When she died… it almost broke me.”

Aloy curls her fingers halfway to her palms, affected by the mournful wistfulness weaving its way around Elisabet. When the silence stretches a little too long, the sadness in Elisabet’s brow dips too deep, Aloy gingerly stands up and hesitantly scoots next to Elisabet.

“Rost taught me how to hunt.” Aloy offers, looking down at her tankard. Elisabet shifts, but not away from Aloy. “He taught me how to scale cliffs and how to pick medicinal plants. He made sure I knew he loved me, even when no one else wanted to.”

Aloy leans, so carefully, ready should Elisabet pull away, onto the Old One’s shoulder. 

“I think he wanted to go- on his own terms, to see his family again.” Aloy says, remembering their last conversation before she entered the village proper. “But he always watched over me, until the end. When he died… it almost broke me too.”

Elisabet quietly slips an arm around Aloy’s shoulders in a side hug, equally as careful, as she looks up at the stars.

“I think they’d be proud,” Elisabet says. “That it didn’t break us. Even if we wanted to let it, sometimes.”

“Yeah.” Aloy chokes out, hugging Elisabet back with a sort of quiet desperation, of quiet fragility. Elisabet squeezes her shoulder reassuringly, not saying anything as the huntress trembles slightly at her side.

Elisabet’s voice is gentle, reminiscent, when she speaks again.

“We had these chickens- like, turkeys- on the ranch.” Aloy tilts her head, but refuses to move her head from Elisabet’s shoulder. “And my mom adored them. She let me name one of them KFC, actually, which was a restaurant that specialized in making fried chicken,” Aloy snorts, Elisabet’s grin widening as she sees the huntress’ teary eyes crinkle in amusement. “But she was terrified of picking up birds for some reason. So when it was time to get them in for bedtime, before we got the herding dogs, she’d be chasing the chickens around and flapping her arms wildly.”

Aloy grins, a memory of Rost coming up easily, with less of an edge of unbearable pain that usually accompanies them.

“Rost once tried to set up fighting targets for me outside of our home… except his cape kept getting caught on the horns of the targets. He fell over and took down the whole line of them. It’s why we only have a couple now,” Aloy closes her eyes as she grins, savoring the warmth of the memory and of the arm hugging her, tightening the side hug.

She hadn’t realized it would feel this comforting, to be hugged by someone she considered a...

Rost wasn’t too big on hugs, preferring to show he cared in other, more stoic-warrior ways.

It feels like home.

The Voice by @danarts.s on Instagram (also on Facebook)

Ale and Stories by @J_otaemy on Instagram (and Twitter and Facebook)

Chapter Text

“I’m going to go check on the defenses. Do… you want to come?”

Aloy is sitting back up now, a delighted little grin playing at her lips and tears wiped away. Even with the threat of Hades looming near, her hope is the highest it’s ever been, buoyed up by Elisabet’s tacit acceptance of her presence. 

“That would depend on how far it is. My legs are about to give out.” Elisabet smiles ruefully. She eats the rest of the finger food the bar provided, nudging some towards Aloy who takes some to munch on as she checks on the defenses. 

“They’re a little far apart, so maybe not. You should rest. I’ll come back after. Talanah let me know the Nora are outside near Minerva’s tower, so I’ll head there. Could you tell Varl?”

“Sure.” Elisabet stands up, drawing the eye of everyone near them once more. She stretches her legs out and the pair exit the bar, Aloy handing over the shards for their meal and drinks at the front. Aloy furtively glanced at Elisabet, who walked beside her, with barely hidden joy. Not at all hidden, if one knew to look for the crinkle of her eyes or the comforted slant of relaxed shoulders.

“See you later?” Aloy asks, more sure of herself now but not any less hopeful.

“Yeah, see you later, kiddo.”

With a grin, Elisabet watches as Aloy lopes off to check on the defenses. She taps her Focus, thanking her earlier self for remembering the map function- and the marker option. She follows the markings back to Aloy’s apartment.

The Nora huntress walked through the mesa based city, her awkward almost-clumsiness in front Elisabet melding into prowling confidence as she prepared herself for the trials ahead.

People parted for her, not because they immediately recognized the savior, especially as she was in typical Carja purples and reds, but simply because they all instinctively knew to get out of the way.

“Thrush.” Talanah slips to her side smoothly.

“Hawk.” Aloy matches her Hawk's stride.

“I’ve mobilized the Hunter’s lodge.” Talanah tells her, eyes absently sweeping over the market place. “They’re ready on the ridges to provide support and most of them are at the front.”

“That’s fast.”

Talanah shrugs. “The Lodge is used to it.”

“And getting trophies has nothing to do with it?” Aloy asks, trying to lighten the grim mood.

“That too.” Talanah smirks. “I’ll be at the Spire.”

“Not with the Lodge?”

“I’m not letting you fight this alone. I’m your Hawk. You’re my Thrush. What kind of mentor would I be if I let my little fledgling fight the Metal Devil on her own?”

“...Thank you, Talanah.” Aloy puts as much sincerity in her voice as she could.

“Of course.” Talanah bumps her shoulders against Aloy’s. “Oh, what’s his name- ah, Nil- he’s come on your behalf.”

“Nil’s here?”

“Sure is. You’ve got a penchant for people with interesting personalities.”

Aloy snorts. “Nil is… complicated.”

They take the lift down. Aloy quickly responds to a message from Elisabet, typing out directions to the Spire. 

“Sure. If by complicated, you mean he’s crazier for blood than a Scrapper for a chunk of scrap metal, then yes, he is.”

“Hey, the only people he’s hurting are bandits… and Shadow Carja, so,” Aloy shrugs, having come to terms with Nil’s callousness a long time ago. Around the time she watched him twist a bandit’s neck off two bandit camps ago.

Talanah huffs. “Well, whatever the reason, he’s here to help Meridian. On your behalf, as are many others.” With that, Talanah slips through the gate and points Aloy towards Petra. Aloy clocks her Hawk going towards the Spire even as she turns to Petra.

“Fire-hair!”

“Petra!”

“Here she is, the guest of honor.” Petra greets her back, a roguish grin on her face. “I knew there was something about you. Hammered from the stuff they make leaders out of. And I don’t say that to every Nora girl who blows through my town.”

“That happens to you alot?”

“Hah! Had to build a wall to fend them off.” 

Aloy huffs a small laugh. “Good thing I’m persistent then.” 

“I’ve missed our little talks. Speaking of talk ,” Petra leans in. “Word has it your mother’s in town.”

Aloy smiles, smile lines, deepening on her cheeks.

“She is. It’s a… new development.”  Aloy says, a little more confident in the title than she would have been three hours ago. “Word got around pretty fast.”

“Yeah, that’s Meridian’s gossip mills for ya. ‘S why I prefer the forge fire and iron-scent of Free Heap.”

“I’m starting to get why.”

“You should have brought her with you. If she’s anything like you, spitfire… well, you know what they say about Oseram and striking while the forge is hot.”

“Petra, for the sake of my sanity, please don’t flirt with my mother.” Aloy pleads, teasingly. 

Petra barks out a laugh, “Hah! Anyways, Marad asked me to look over the city arsenal. These guns have aged well- that runs in the Oseram, no?”

The Oseram settlement leader pats the guns, confident in her work as she tells Aloy that she’s upgraded them, to which the Nora huntress offers to test them out immediately. The fire burned so beautifully in the dark of the new night.

“You know that I appreciate your help, Petra. This battle… I- I don’t know what’s going to happen-” Aloy says, admitting to Petra what she hasn’t quite admitted to anyone else. Petra is a good friend, flirting and all, and Aloy feels safe enough to admit that, really, she has no clue how this will turn out.

Not that Aloy has much of a choice. It’s either succeed or perish with the world once more- with no chance of future life.

Perhaps she should talk to Elisabet. It must have felt similar, during the apocalypse.

“We’ll see each other again, I know it.” Petra reassures her. “Maybe next time, I’ll convince you to stick with the Free Heap.”

“Petra-” Aloy says, in the same way she had rejected Avad. “You know I-”

“I do, I do.” Petra says, a rueful smile on her face. Her eyes remain light, and Aloy relaxes. “Always had a weakness for restless girls though. Say hi to your mother for me?”

“And risk you becoming my step-mother? I think not.” Aloy fires back, glad to get back to more even grounds, even if it was imagining Elisabet getting with Petra.

Yeah, no. That would be three levels of weirdness. She leaves Petra to check in on her other allies.

Aloy walks over to the other platform. She greets Jeneva, who reminds Aloy of Nil, if Nil was well adjusted and slightly less psychopathic. They have the same sense of callousness to them, except Jeneva’s was tempered with discipline and laws. And loyalty to Meridian and the Carja, something Nil expressly lacks. 

Nevertheless, Jeneva’s “May the Sun blaze at your back,” filled her with confidence. And an odd bloodthirst. Hm.

She turns, blinking in surprise.

“Nakoa. You came to fight.”

“How could I not? During the Red Raids, there was only one Carja butcher the Nora feared more than Zaid.”

“Helis.”

The two Nora huntresses had mirroring expressions of grim determination.

“I would stand against any army he leads, no matter how strong. For the Nora he terrorized. For myself. For my father.”

“We’ll stop him. You have my word.”

“Your word means a lot, especially now. Because of you, I hear the Sacred Lands has opened. If we win, I can go home. It’ll be good to see Yan again.” Nakoa says, longingly.

“They’d welcome you. I told them you killed Zaid.”

“You did?”

“Yeah. All of the Braves here today know what you’ve achieved.”

“I see.” Nakoa smiles, the scars on her face pulling minutely. “I’m with you Aloy. Until the end.”

They dip their heads at each other, Nora greeting and well wishes for the battle ahead completed in one move. 

Aloy swallows past the lump in her throat. Nakoa’s eyes were too sincere and Aloy fervently hopes that they all survive the looming shadows, as unlikely as that may be.

“Aloy!” Teb calls for her. 

“Teb! How’re your wounds?” 

“Don’t tell the other Braves, but if I fought, I’d probably become undone.” Teb smiles, regardless. “I’ll leave the fighting to the other Nora at the Spire. I’m in charge of supplies. The Carja made me an honorary quartermaster, whatever that means.”

“It sounds impressive. The caches of supplies I see around is your doing, right?”

“Yes. We’ll be setting up some more under these banners, so if you get in a tight spot, look for them when the fighting starts.”

Teb pauses. His gaze becomes searching.

“Aloy? When- when you went into the mountain, did the Goddess… tell you our chances?”

“She didn’t need to. I know we can do this, Teb.”

“Maybe we can. She did send you to get Elisabet, after all. The Goddess would not have sent her friend here if she thought we would fail.”

Aloy remains silent, nodding with a tight-lipped smile. She and Teb dip their heads, battle wishes done in an instant.

If she can not tell the truth, she might as well not tell a lie.

She turns from a busy Teb and makes her way towards the bickering pair, Uthid and Vanasha.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Meridian’s Savior.”

“Vanasha! Uthid! You’re here!”

Uthid salutes her, “Aloy.”

“You called, little huntress, and so here I am.”

Aloy huffs, amused as always with Vanasha’s intentionally sultry drawl. “Ready to fight?”

“Fight? I thought you just wanted tea and conversation! Is there a battle coming? I wasn’t informed!”

Aloy shakes her head, jokingly serious. “Well, that can’t be true. You’re always informed.”

“Ah, so I am. We’ve only met a few times, and yet you know me so well.”

“I don’t think I know you at all. But I’d like to.”

“Hm. When I hear that line, it usually means something else.”

Aloy shrugs.

“I hear that you’ve brought your mother here, little huntress.”

“I did.” She’s still not happy about it. But… despite the danger, Aloy can’t bring herself to regret Elisabet’s presence here, not when she understands now that Elisabet doesn’t despise her very existence.

“If she is anything like you, then perhaps we have another force of nature to contend with,” Vanasha smiles that slow, knowing curl of her lips.

“In terms of combat? No. In terms of sheer will?” Aloy hadn’t missed how she stared down the Braves and won . “Oh, yeah.”

Vanasha laughs before fixing Aloy with a weighing gaze. Aloy hopes she will not fall short.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

“Of course.”

“I’ve been waiting for this fight my whole life.” Vanasha’s tone dips, fury and years of suffering oozing through her words like an infected wound. “The enemy we face today is the same that turned Meridian into a slave pit and Sunfall into a bloodbath. Fanatics, who torture and murder mothers, fathers, families, children- and say it is the will of the Sun. I hate them, Aloy. And I’ve got the scars from their whips on my back to prove it. And today- we can get rid of them once and for all.”

Vanasha sucks in a quick breath, reigning in her blazing fury back to the ice cold hatred and rationality that served her well in fucking over the Shadow Carja and nabbing Itamen from under their fanatic noses.

“I said I came for you,” she says to Aloy, voice losing the waver it had when she allowed herself to show her rage and suffering. “But that was only half the truth. I came for them. This time, they’re not getting away.”

“I’m with you Vanasha. We’ll fight them together.” Aloy vows.

“And I won’t forget it, little huntress. Tomorrow, may the Sun rise on a better world.”

With Vanasha and Uthid’s support- and with evidence of their adorable relationship blooming- at her back, Aloy walks down to speak to Nil.

“Nil?”

“Ah, Aloy.” Aloy blinks, taken off guard at her name coming from Nil’s mouth. 

“They told me your name, I said hair like a splash of blood, tenacious as a Scrapper’s jaws.” He offers an explanation. “I’ve thought about what you’ve said. Everytime, the wound you gave me caught on my ribs.”

“...But, I didn’t wound you.”

“Not by metal.” Nil’s eyes brighten, his version of a genuine smile, reflecting the flickering of the torches and the moonlight. “But still, I forgive. A duel is such a fleeting joy. If one of us had ended the other, we’d have missed all this.”

Like a Rockbreaker to a grounded target. Aloy thinks.

“The wait before blood is shed, like the scrape of a blade across your teeth-”

“Nil-” Aloy interrupts. “You’re making it difficult to be glad to see you.” Aloy sighs, putting up with Nil’s shit with a sense of amusement she’s learned to have at his blood seeking ways. “But you’re needed. This battle will be hard.”

“Hard? I was assured that the odds would be near impossible.” He says, deadly serious in his… pout? Aloy shudders. Nil and pouting should never be thought of in the same sentence.

“And you signed up anyway?”

“Impossible odds, fine company, killing without consequences- how could I resist?”

“You’re impossible.”

Nil tilts his head. “Tell me, is the mother that I hear you have… anything like you?”

“Uh.” What is it and people asking about Elisabet?

Considering that I’m her literal clone, she is, in fact, a lot like me. Or maybe it’s more that I am a lot like her? Aloy muses.

“Is she as good with a spear as you?”

“Oh. No.” 

Aloy can see the moment he loses interest in Elisabet… and is quietly glad for it. Nil underneath the shine of the moon is ten times more menacing than in the light of the sun. And she’s watched him rip people’s throats out with the only semblance of a grin she’s ever seen on his face.

“Pity.”

Before she could retort, Varl called out to her.

“Aloy!”

Varl shouts, walking down the slope as Nil takes the chance to slip away. Aloy turns. There’s an ease to Varl, now that he’s surrounded more by plants, that had disappeared the moment they entered the city.

“Varl. Did Elisabet get back okay?”

Varl squints his eyes knowingly. “Yes, she’s fine. Enamored with the… decorations of your place, but hale and whole. I think she might have left to go explore the… night market?”

“Oh, good.” 

“Are you going to the Spire next?”

“Yes.”

“Then let’s go.”

They walk up the winding path, passing by a preparing Talanah, who Aloy introduces to Varl. She also passes Aluki and Aratak. Varl learns that she used to be the leader of a Werak, and shakes his head.

“Thank you for coming, Aluki, Aratak.”

“Of course. It is what Ourea would have wanted.” Aratak looks at Aloy and something in her, something unsure, was seen. “Do not forget that you are part Banuk. We survive. We prevail.”

“What else matters?” Aloy repeats back at him. They break from the two Banuk warriors to go upwards.

“Do I want to know what else you got up to past the Cut?” Varl asks.

“... probably not.”

“Hm.”

Aloy lets the silence be, enjoying the time it takes to reach the peak of the Spire and the peace that surrounds them. The calm before the storm. The watcher before the herd.

When they make it to the top of the spire, Aloy splits off to talk to the Vanguard as Varl goes to greet some of the Braves.

“They call themselves “the Eclipse.’” Aloy hears Erend say.

“What does that even mean ?” Another Vanguardsman asks.

“It’s when the moon gets in front of the sun, idiot,” Erend retorts.

“Oh. Is that supposed to be scary or something?” Aloy smothers a laugh at the immediate dismissal that Vansguardsman has of the Eclipse. Refreshing.

“I don’t know. They used to be Carja, and Carja are always yammering about sun and shade.”

“Well, if they used to be Carja, how tough can they be?” Another one asks. Aloy’s shoulders shake with the effort of suppressing her laughter.

“Yeah. Their best guys dress like birds. We’ll rip their little feathers off.”

Erend sighs and rubs a hand over his leather and metal braced helmet. “Let’s not get cocky, boys.”

Aloy wheezes.

Erend turns around with a grin. “Aloy. So, here we are again, gearing up for a fight. Only this time, it- are you done?” He snickers.

Aloy holds up a finger, hand brace on her knees as she laughs. Taking a breath, the Nora huntress manages to bring her trembling mirth to heel and gestures for Erend to continue.

“I see you like the Vanguard.” 

“Oh, yeah.” Aloy smiles at him. Erend smiles, broad and proud.

“So, uh. I heard that your mother’s in town. I… thought you didn’t have one- I mean, you didn’t know her- I, forge’s below, I’m striking cold metal with this, aren’t I.”

“Yeah, but it’s fine. This is a new development. I didn’t even know she was alive until a couple of days ago.”

Erend blinks, leaning his weight on his gigantic hammer. “Huh.”

“It’s… complicated.”

“You can tell me after the fight.”

“...Sure.”

“So, it sounds like the bad guys have a lot more firepower. What are we up against, really?”

“I’m not sure.” Her brows lowering, Aloy slips back into a more somber, serious attitude. “But there’s going to be a lot of them, and they’ll have machines. And if they get past us, it’s not just Meridian that will fall. The rest of the world will go with it.”

“That’s… big. Sounds like our kind of fight, right guys? Where do they put the Vanguard???”

“At the front of the line!” Erend’s Vanguards choroused.

Aloy watched as he rallied his men, proud of how far he’s come since the drunken mess he became when Ersa died.

“You hear that? Nobody’s getting past the Vanguard. We’re here for Meridian. And we’re here for you.”

“Thank you, Erend. Ersa would be proud.”

“Only if we win.” 

With that, Aloy quickly goes over to War-Chief Sona and checks upon the frowning woman. By the time she makes it back around to Varl, Aloy is all too ready to collapse into her bedroll. 

“Don’t- you don’t need to bow. The Anointed doesn’t like it.” Varl waves away the Braves.

“She doesn’t much like being called Anointed either.” Aloy shrugs, grimacing.

“Have you talked to my mother?” Varl asks.

“They’re ready.” Aloy answers. “So… what do you think of Meridian?”

“I’ve seen… many new things since I first met you. I should thank you.” He evades.

“Varl, what’s wrong?” Aloy asks. In the past day or so, he’s gotten less stiff with her. And now…

“You really want to know?”

Aloy looks at him expectantly. 

“Alright. I’m in a foreign land, a tainted land, defending a faithless city that looks like nothing I’ve seen- from something I can’t imagine! And you, after all that’s happened, all you’ve done… You’re still going strong, you’re still heading into danger to protect us. To follow the will of the Goddess.” Varl bursts out, frustration winding into a self-derisive tone that Aloy did not like in the slightest.

“So are you. You’ve lived through Vala, you’ve lived through the killers and the assault at Mother’s Heart. That is strength, Varl. Even now, you’re fighting through the discomfort of everything being wrong to follow the Goddess’ will.”

Varl swallows. “If you say so.”

“I do. I’m the chosen one, right? The Anointed or whatever.”

“I thought you didn’t want to be worshiped.”

“I don’t. Thanks for telling the others not to bow, by the way. It’s the last thing I need-”

“Don’t be too hard on them,” Varl says. “They only joined this fight because the Anointed bid it so.”

“Is that why you came?” Aloy hopes not.

“No. I gave my word. It used to be that I had wanted to see you again, after ambushing the killers.” He pauses, looking at her. “But now… you remind me of Vala. And I- I won’t stand by and watch another sister die, Aloy. I can’t.”

“Oh.” A brother. She… she lost hope of ever having a family a long time ago. She barely dared to hope for even a mother. Faced with two people could be- Aloy doesn’t know how to process, how to even begin to believe that’s something that could be reality for her. And to be compared to Vala… that level of familial affection that Varl is admitting to… 

“And, uh, we have to fight the Metal Devil. Because the Goddess says… or because you say-” Varl cuts himself off. “You know what I mean.”

“I think the Goddess and I are in agreement. We’re both glad you’re here.” Aloy takes the out and hops off the feelings caravan immediately. 

“I hope so. The wrongness here cuts at me. Even if the living quarters were… adequate.”

“Huh. Your mother said almost exactly the same thing.”

Varl smiles mirthlessly. “I am my mother’s son, Aloy.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She waves at him, backing away. “I’m gonna go get some rest. You too, Varl.”

“Sure thing… Anointed.” 

Aloy tosses him an annoyed look, to which he grins back a bit tauntingly. In good, sibling ribbing.

Aloy smiles slightly, wonder shooting through her as she realizes she now knows what sibling fun could feel like. She finds her way back to the apartment, leaning against the cool metal of the elevators as she thinks about the last few days… and what is to come. 

Elisabet, having parted with Aloy a few minutes earlier, finds her way back to the apartment without much issue. She finds Varl examining one of the tapestries hung up on Olin’s apartment.

“Hello, Varl.”

“Goddess bless, Elisabet.” Varl turns and greets her. 

“Aloy sent me to tell you that the Nora have arrived. They’re going to the Spire.”

“I see.” Varl steps away from the tapestry. Elisabet glances at it, a portrait of a man and his wife and their son splayed out on resplendent red and brown threads. 

“You… wouldn’t happen to know where the Spire is, would you?”

“No clue. I could ask Aloy, if you want?”

“... How?”

“... Just trust me on it.” 

She gets a reply back from Aloy, quickly relaying the information to Varl. Varl, who has finally figured out that the Focuses at her and Aloy’s temples had something to do with their communications.

“I’ll be fighting at the Spire when the battle starts. Please, for all of our sakes, stay safe.”

“Of course. Be safe, Varl.”

Varl nods and dips out of the apartment. Elisabet picks up a scroll left on the table, blinking in surprise at the script. She had realized that she couldn’t read the written language when they passed many of the signs out there but it hadn’t really hit her until she finally had a piece of literature… or whatever this is. Since… she can’t read. At all. 

Great.

With her plans of reading to decompress dashed- and a marked unwillingness to even try to decipher the Carja script right now- Elisabet heads out to the market she had passed by earlier. Elisabet looks at everything, appreciating the look of Meridian at night as opposed to the look it sported in the afternoon. As she walks down the streets of Meridian, Elisabet admires the flicker of torches and oil lamps illuminating the orange streets.

This city is beautiful. She thinks to herself, taking in the sight and smells of Meridian’s night market. 

She admires the little things she took for granted until the moment people started starving on the streets. Like… fresh air. Laughter. People whose ribs can not be counted. Seeing the stars and moon. They’ve changed a bit, but Elisabet wouldn’t know. She’d always been too busy keeping the Earth alive to properly chart out the stars. There are vibrant fabrics, whole and unmarred by mud and blood and desperation. Fish. Meat. Spices. Music. People speaking without the edge of hunger, of thirst, weaving in their mouths. Near the end of the world, before the atmosphere she had given her youth to repair had broken under the pressure of the Faro swarm, Elisabet had watched people kill each other to drink, even if it were blood. As food became scarce, she often found people dead on the streets with their ribs easily countable even from her place in the armored car.

She stops against a wall, leaning against it as she simply stops to absorb the atmosphere. 

Her position ensured food when others had none. Water when others died of thirst. Breathable air when others suffocated. Safety, in walls of metal, as others suffered and perished under metal legs and used as fuel.

The hands that grasp at her ankles darken, though, beneath the shadows of orange lights.

She’s walking around in a city built on the bones of the people she killed. 

Hah. Isn’t that ironic.

Though the city was beautiful, it’s too much for her right now. Because tomorrow, tomorrow it’d be attacked by an entity that she had helped create. That she made sure would be created, even though she had wished otherwise when Ted proposed it. HADES was necessary, but Elisabet can not help but blame herself for it going rogue. And cursing Ted for proposing HADES as a possibility to begin with. She had thought then that he’d learned his lessons about not leaving a back up… but like everything else he laid his grubby, selfish paws on, it turned out for the worse. 

No… it wasn’t completely his fault. Ted is dead, and his sins were also the result of other’s inaction. Her own inaction. However, Elisabet maintains the right to curse his name for the deletion of Apollo. Samina had worked so damn hard with her team to collect and archive all of that data for future humans, and he just- 

Elisabet huffs. Her gaze runs over the cheerfulness of the crowd, the guards, and even the animals around.

Even with the setbacks, Zero Dawn did do what she designed it to do.

Elisabet decides to actively focus on the good that Zero Dawn accomplished. Life. Starting with that adorable bunny a merchant has for sale as a pet. Shaking off her negative thoughts and actively pressing down the shadows writhing at her feet, Elisabet begins to look around in earnest. 

It has been a long time since she’s bought something at a market. And Aloy had given her a bag of shards to use as she wished. 

And… well, perhaps Aloy would like a gift. Because she cared for Elisabet the entire time, so the Old One just wants to pay her back. No other reason. Elisabet thinks about what her… what Aloy would like- 

Oh, who is she kidding?

I’ve clearly already adopted her, Elisabet exasperatedly thought at herself. The Voice pipes up with a “duh” kind of hum. 

But it’s only been three days. Elisabet half-heartedly argues with herself, knowing full well she got attached to GAIA even before GAIA gained sentience.

If she thinks about it like that… well. Perhaps it's not that surprising. Plus… her mom had always wanted grandkids. 

Elisabet, herself, had wanted a daughter before the Swarm took every hope about a life for herself from her. 

She’d told GAIA once, what she’d want her daughter to be like.

And Aloy fits all of those things. All of those hopes and dreams… if her sparse memories of what Aloy’s life must have been like holds true, then isn’t Aloy all of those things- compassionate, headstrong, wanting to save the world- and more ? 

All of those people, thanking her for helping them, saving them, being kind… 

That pride that Elisabet felt watching Aloy be thanked, the worry when Aloy bounded off to fight a machine, and the relief and sheer awe she felt when the machine was brought down by the skilled huntress… wasn’t that her claiming Aloy as someone she cares about?

A fear shuddered down her spine.

What if the ease and trust she feels towards Aloy is because Aloy is, genetically, Elisabet. Isn’t that like trusting herself? Wouldn't it be false?

It was that thought that stopped Elisabet in her tracks, body freezing as she processed what she just thought to herself.

Ah.  

She trusts Aloy.

She worries about her.

She’s proud of her.

Hell, Elisabet doesn’t even trust herself. Elisabet knows herself well enough by now, at 46 years of age and through way too many roller coasters, that she has no self preservation.

She doesn’t worry about herself, at all. She's had complaints about her habits. But… she worries about Aloy.

Elisabet smiles, realizing she’s overthinking things.

I want to be someone who is important to her. I want to be her mom.

And.

I hope she’ll want me as her family.

The Voice sighs, and gives her a mental tug towards the center of the market. Elisabet huffs again, and ignores the eyes on her in favor of searching for a gift.

Thirty minutes later, Elisabet is going home with a lighter shards purse and two items she hopes Aloy would like. Obviously, she bargained like a bat out of hell for the item from the merchant, having learned that skill from the Voice’s spare memories that had nothing to do with the game. 

“100 shards!” The merchant had proposed, figuring out from a glance that Elisabet wasn't a local.

“100? That’s a little bit much, don’t you think?”

“I can offer it for 90 shards at the lowest, lady.” 

“90? Look at this, clearly there are scuff marks on the back plate, how could you sell this for 90?”

“The scuff marks are natural!”

“And so is 60 shards for a piece that’s been naturally scuffed like this!”

“60? That would be a robbery!”

And so it went. Despite her depressing thoughts earlier, the bargaining spree had brought her spirits back up to the point she was willing to try decoding the Carja script again. And, there’s a fluttering sense of hope, of trembling fragility that inhabits her stomach. How would she face Aloy now that Elisabet finally realizes how much she wants Aloy to be her family? 

Her daughter?

Wait- Elisabet jolts, lost in her thoughts as she walks back to the apartment. Of course, protecting her money is second nature to her as a city dweller so she’s free to think about other things, perhaps to her detriment. 

I have shit self-preservation. 

Aloy is like me.

She has shit preservation too.

Elisabet can feel her hair graying some more. Her mom was right. Elisabet sent an apology to her dead mother. She enters the apartment, greeting the Carja guard outside, eyeing his ridiculously sharp ax. She sets the two wrapped packages down on the sofa, grabbing a scroll from the shelf on the right of the couch. She plops down, using the round pillow as a back rest, and gets cracking.

“Elisabet?”

Aloy calls out as she approaches the apartment, her voice muffled through the door. She pokes her head in through the doorway, immediately spotting Elisabet sitting on the sofa right next to it.

“I’m back.” Aloy says, a curl of happiness at the phrase unfurling.

“So you are.” Elisabet smiles at her. “Welcome back. How was the check?”

“They’re as ready as they can be.” Aloy shrugs, stepping in and closing the door. Aloy peers at Elisabet, hesitance still apparent in her stance.

“That’s the best you can hope for I guess.” Elisabet frowns down at the scroll.

“Everything alright?”

“Yeah, I’m just relearning how to read. I speak four languages fluently but now,” Elisabet shakes the scroll. “I’m illiterate. It’s sheer luck that you all speak English. Well, no, not luck but still.”

“English?” Aloy’s heard of it, but only in one of the data points. She sits down next to Elisabet, curiously looking at the wrapped packages stacked on Elisabet’s left side. “I’ve heard of it, in the Zero Dawn Facility.”

“You went to the Zero Dawn Facility?” 

“Yes.” 

Elisabet drops her gaze back down on the scroll, fiddling with it as she loses herself in memories. That’s where everything truly started…

“Elisabet?” The Old One glances back up, meeting Aloy’s worried eyes.

“I’m good. Just brought back some memories.”

“Oh.” Aloy bites a corner of her bottom lip. “Do you… want to talk about it?”

“Maybe later. Thank you for offering.” Elisabet smiles at, wane and tired, but nonetheless thankful.

“English is what we used to call the language that we’re speaking. What do you call it?”

“Common, I suppose.” Aloy shrugs. “You said you know four languages?”

“Yeah. English, Arabic, Spanish, and French. Well, five, if you count mildly conversational Mandarin.”

Elisabet leans pulls a knee up, resting her chin on it as Aloy’s lit up with curiosity. Elisabet doesn’t realize it, but her own eyes soften in response. 

“How many languages were there?” Aloy asks.

“Over a hundred, easily.”

“Wow.”

“Right?” Elisabet tilts her head. “I’ll teach you sometime. If you help me with deciphering this jargon later.”

Aloy perks up. “Sure!”

“Ah,” Elisabet says, clearing her head of the Carja script that’s been stuffing it inside her head for the past hour... and also clearing her throat. “I, uh, got you some stuff from the market. I thought you might like them.”

Aloy stares at her, mouth slightly parted.

…

“Aloy?”

The Nora huntress shakes her head quickly.

“Uh, you did?” Her voice was rough. Elisabet frowns briefly but shelves Aloy’s reaction for later analysis.

“I did. Want to see them?”

“ Yes. ”

Elisabet chuckles as Aloy’s ears turn red. Aloy’s eyes stayed earnestly on hers, though, so Elisabet gives her the slightly bigger package.

“This one…” Elisabet grabs the smaller package. “I’ll give it to you later.”

“Okay.” Aloy taps the package with a jittery finger. “Can I open this one, now?”

“Yeah, go for it, kiddo.”

Aloy, even through her eagerness, gently opens the wrapping paper like it was gold wrapped gems. She handles the brown, cheap wrapping so preciously that Elisabet feels her heart squeeze painfully in response. She doesn’t even cut the twine, picking at the knot and untying it with special care.

Aloy gently lifts the item from the middle of the paper.

“They’re Oseram gloves- I heard that these are really good for protection against fire. Apparently, someone punched a bomb away with them.” She had asked a Carja guard for recommendations. For some reason, he even offered to escort her to the store so that she gets a fair price.

“Thank you.” Aloy immediately tries them on, touched that Elisabet thought of her, and beaming at the snug fit. She practices drawing her bow, making the motions and making a happy noise at the range of motion she still has with these gloves. Her ears burn as she realizes that Elisabet was watching the whole time, eyes crinkling and laugh lines deepening as she watches the huntress enjoy her gift.

“I’m glad you like them. I don’t know much about equipment.” Elisabet says sheepishly. 

“No, they’re perfect .” Aloy insists, her throat tightening with emotions. She had watched Nora mothers give their children handmade boots before. Rost, who had seen the longing looks she casted towards the family, spent three nights crafting and trading for materials to make her boots. This warmth encompassing her heart felt the same as back then. Aloy hadn’t thought she would be able to experience this again. 

“I’m glad you like them,” Elisabet repeats, face softening. She stands up, slipping the package in one of the pockets of her outfit. “Now, don’t you need some rest?”

“I- yeah.” Elisabet kicks herself as Aloy’s face drops, obvious reluctance pulling at her face. As for Aloy, she didn't want to sleep. To sleep means to face the looming battle faster, to face her potential failure faster.

“...What’s wrong?”

Aloy hesitates. “How did you sleep?”

“Pardon?”

“How,” Aloy asks again, eyes planted on the ground and fiddling with her new gloves. “Did you sleep, knowing that if you mess up, the world would be… would be gone?”

Elisabet’s jaws clench, empathy curling in her chest as she places a hand on Aloy’s slumped shoulders.

“I’m sorry.” Aloy whispers as Elisabet tries to find the words. “Nevermind-”

“No, I-” Elisabet stops Aloy from rising off the couch, firm grip on her shoulders asking her to stay and listen. “It was hard, to sleep. It was hard to make those sacrifices, to know I was leading people to their death. Even now, I haven’t forgiven myself... But the alternative was to have no hope, no future for humanity. And that’s not a choice at all.”

“What if I fail?” Aloy asks, finally looking up at Elisabet.

“You won’t.” Elisabet says, more confident in that than anything else. After all, she’s got her own evidence that Aloy wouldn’t fail. But even if she hadn’t had those memories, Elisabet knows that she would still believe wholeheartedly that Aloy would succeed.

“You don’t know that! All I know is how to swing a spear, I don't know anything about AI's or even-! I’m not- I’m not you.” Aloy snaps.

“Oh, Aloy.” Elisabet kneels down in front of her, gripping Aloy’s gloved and so heavily scarred hands in her own. She looks up at Aloy’s face, so stubbornly clear of tears and emotions. “...You’re right. You’re not me.”

Aloy looks away, teeth gritting. Elisabet smiles at her, full of trust. The Old One shoves as much sincerity as possible in her voice. Aloy’s gaze snaps back to Elisabet’s as she speaks.

“Aloy, you’re not me, because you’re better .” She says, conviction - the same conviction that moved billions for Zero Dawn- threads through her words. 

“You’re you. And that’s all you’ve ever needed to be. ” 

Aloy’s eyes glowed with power as she stared down at the kneeling fool before her, new gloves stained with blast marks and blood from punching bombs and Shadow Carja alike. As she gripped Sylen’s shining spear, she thought about Rost. She thought about his last moments. She thought about how Helis slit at her throat and the words he had said to her then, before killing Rost.

“Turn your face towards the Sun,” Aloy commands, allowing Helis to turn his head towards the destruction and gray skies that he had brought, before quickly jabbing the sharp point of the spear into his throat. 

As he lets out a wet gurgle, blood wetting the end of her spear, Aloy breathes out, grim satisfaction painting her face. Aloy allows herself a moment to watch Helis bleed out on the broken walls. 

Then, she whirls around, and ziplines down to the ridges, and takes her place behind Petra’s guns. Her allies around her, and restocked supplies at her hip, Aloy mows down machines like she’s the last line of defense. When the machines overwhelm the ridges, Aloy puts them down like a hellcat on the loose, ripping and tearing. 

Elisabet believes in her. And Aloy would rather die than fail the trust she had given her.

Elisabet wakes up to explosions, the Voice screaming unintelligibly as a large chunk of stone wall comes falling down on where she was laying, had she not rolled out of the way.

“What-” Elisabet stared outside, to the smoke that darkened the horizon.

The Voice slams a memory into her brain, temporarily debilitating Elisabet as she clutched at her head.

But when she lifted her head, that was the last thing on her mind. Elisabet dashes out onto the panicked street, bee-lining for the elevators, with one thought on her mind. 

No.

The lifts shook as explosions hit it, compromising the structural integrity and blasting a hole on the side of it, but Elisabet simply steadied her balance, willing the elevators to go faster. 

When it was close enough to the ground, Elisabet didn’t wait for the elevator to stop. She launched herself out of the hole, hitting the ground and rolling out. She springs back up, like she’s watched Aloy do every time she fought a machine, and plunges herself in the burning wreckage of lower Meridian. Her heart pounds, screaming in her chest as it heaves with laborious breaths. Elisabet's ankles were screaming in pain, but she paid them no heed. She paid nothing but the desperation thundering through her blood and marrow.

Find. Aloy.

Her eyes darted around as she sprinted to the right, desperately dodging machines and soldiers alike as her vision tunneled, single-mindedly focused on finding Aloy and following the gouge on the ground. 

Aloy.

Please. 

Because the memory that the Voice had thrown at her was Aloy, flung away and sprawled out, limp and bleeding, as machines brought the gate down on her.

Not her. Elisabet begs, to anything, anyone, that would see her- her daughter safe. 

Not her.

“ALOY!” 

Please.

“Ugh!” Aloy gasps, stumbling as falling chunks of the gate bore down on her. She collapses, blood leaking from the cuts on her temple. 

Everything hurts. Every breath burns at her lungs, at her throat. 

“ALOY!” A familiar scream reached her ringing ears, something about it making Aloy fight the impending loom of unconsciousness. She lifts her head from the dirt, time moving like molasses as the world doubled in front of her. The ominous blaze burns at her dizzy eyes, but they manage to somehow, focus on the figure ahead of her. 

Elisabet is running towards her, terror visible on her stricken face. Aloy heaves herself up on a forearm, her right digits digging into the soil as she tries to drag herself forward. She has to try to reassure Elisabet, to let her know that Aloy won’t fail, that she’ll get up in just a bit- just a little bit- and that she’ll protect…

Aloy slides down back onto the grass, limbs refusing to heed her commands, breath coming out in short gasps of burning agony. But her eyes were still fixed on the image of Elisabet. If this is the thing she saw before she died, it wouldn’t be so bad. The closest thing she has to a mother, being this concerned for her… no, it would not be so bad indeed.

She sees the red hair, she sees a face like her own, she sees Elisabet Sobeck in her-.

Oh. 

It’s Elisabet.

It’s not a hallucination. 

Why was she here? She would have been safe, in the upper parts of the city. Why…?

“ALOY!!!” Elisabet screams again, seeming to sprint even faster, dodging debris as she weaves her way towards the fallen huntress.

Aloy blinks, dazed, as she sees Elisabet running to her, haloed by oranges and reds from the destruction around her.

She also sees the Scrapper.

But before she could shout a warning, before she could lift herself once more from the weeds chafing at her throat, the Scrapper lunges.

It slams the Old One to the side with a resounding crunch that Aloy knows is going to haunt her dreams, if she lives past this moment. In slow motion, Aloy watches once more as someone she loves crumples and breaks in trying to reach her. Trying to protect her.

Aloy watches, helpless again, as Elisabet disappears into a blaze of explosion. 

No. 

No. 

Not again. 

Please.

Her left hand reaches out, fingers stretching as far as they’ll go, as her vision blurs with tears and fades into black. Her scar throbs .

“Elisabet…” Aloy whispers, quiet and terrified, broken whimpers spill out of her dry and cracked lips as her vision fades. 

Her eyes roll back and the Savior of burning Meridian goes limp, reaching for her mother.

Chapter Text

In what seems like mere moments later, Aloy gasps back into consciousness, bones aching and ribs tender. Her nose picks up the acrid smell of smoke and burning plants, distant snarls of attacking machines melding with screams and shouts in a terrible song.

“Wha-”

“Aloy!” Teb kneels at her side, eyes wide. “Aloy! Aloy!” 

“Teb…?” Teb helps her up, Aloy gingerly avoiding as much jostling as possible.

“By All-Mother, you survived! I thought you were killed!” 

She blinks at him, dazed. “The others…! Are they…” she asks, voice weary and numbed with shock. 

Teb cuts her off, “No! No, wounded but alive, mostly.”

“Mostly…?” Teb startles as Aloy jolts, watching her worriedly as she begins to frantically look around. “Where- where’s Elisabet? Have you seen Elisabet?!”

“No- Elisabet was down here?” 

“She got- she got attacked by-” Aloy stumbles, panicking.

“I’ll look for her.” Teb places a steadying hand on the Nora huntress’ shoulders. He frowns at the way Aloy shakes.  “Do what you need to do.” 

“... Okay. Take care of the others, Teb. Find her. Please.”

Aloy’s desperation ripples through her voice, clear in the way her eyes rove around the burning rubble even now. But, as always, duty must come first.

“Alright. Go.”

Nodding, Aloy shoves a handful of pain killing herbs in her mouth and picks up a faster, limping pace towards the Spire. Flecks of ember and ash flake down around her, settling on the shoulders of her armor. Aloy grimaces, covering her mouth and nose with a cloth to avoid the smoke.

Despite trusting Teb to look for Elisabet, Aloy couldn’t help but to glance around as much as she can, through the fire and the machines, to see if she can catch a glimpse of the older woman. 

No dice.

Aloy swallows the lump of worry and pushes through, hands flexing to feel the gloves Elisabet had given just hours prior. The flames licking at the wreckage that was Meridian village curls an uneasy tendril in her stomach. Aloy’s used to dead bodies by now. Rost had made sure of it. So why is it, that the thought of Elisabet’s corpse was so hard to think about?

Please be okay.

She had to do this- she must. The Spire. Hades. Then Elisabet. 

She had told Aloy that she believed in her. That Aloy had more worth than just being GAIA’s fixer-upper. That she was enough as Aloy. 

Aloy doesn’t quite believe  Elisabet but she hadn’t had the heart to protest, not against the warm fuzzy feelings that invaded her chest and not against the earnest look in Elisabet’s face. Sure, it was unbearably awkward after she said that, but that didn’t matter. Not when Elisabet told her that she trusted Aloy- to do the right thing, to succeed.

Unconditional trust.

And the promise of not hating her should she fail.

Aloy doesn’t get a lot of that, ever. And she’s never had it without proving herself first. She’s always had to prove herself first.

She has to see this through. No matter what. 

She runs past the screams, offering as much help as she can but not stopping to make sure the corrupted machines are put down completely. She hates that every step brings her further away from a hurt Elisabet, but she doesn’t have a choice. 

Get it done faster, get to find Elisabet faster.

It’s high time she made good on her promise to stab a spear into Hades’ skull.

Elisabet hits the pebble filled ground with a grunt, a gasp of pain tearing through her ribs as the pain forces her world to widen past a collapsed Aloy. 

“Ugh!” She bounces, tumbling and rolling onto her back, stunned.  Elisabet can already feel the bruises blooming at her side. Her visions whites out in pain but, as adrenaline coursed through her, Elisabet somehow manages to roll away from the whirring, corrupted machine and back onto her unsteady feet. 

Blinking rapidly, Elisabet stumbles backwards as the feline-like machine crouches in preparation to lunge, clawing at the ground where she had been moments ago. With a splash, her feet lands in the irrigation that runs along the side of lower Meridian’s farms.

Her feet are wet now, but Elisabet doesn’t have the luxury of lamenting the feeling of wet fur boots.

The Scrapper, whirling with remnants of Hades’ malevolent wiring, snarls and springs at her. Elisabet throws herself to the right, missing the meeting with the reaper by mere centimeters. 

“Erk!” She meets the ground once more as her feet catch on something solid and very much not a rock. Elisabet frantically looks back, catching sight of the object that sent her hurtling to the ground.

She had tripped over a corpse- the same soldier that had helped her pick out Aloy’s gloves. 

Elisabet scrambles up, scream stifled in her throat. She grits her teeth, apologizing to the soldier as she grabs his ax, swallowing down her nausea.

Now is not the time, Elisabet!

The sharp iron tang of blood fills her mouth as she holds the ax with both hands, facing the back of the Scrapper as it recovers from its lunge and subsequent skid.

Elisabet’s hands tremble, the edge of the sharpened Carja ax wavering in her fear. She's never fought a machine before. But if she dies, the Scrapper could get to Aloy. So she had to try her damn best or else it’ll literally be over her dead body. 

It can't be worse than fighting a badger, right?

It was sheer luck that Elisabet had grabbed her Focus the moment she rolled out of bed. That- or two decades of an ingrained habit kicked in as normal. The Voice’s screaming had saved her from being flattened like a pancake, but as Elisabet barely yanks herself back from the Scrapper as it lunged once more, she wasn’t sure if she regretted not taking the chance to die that way instead of being mauled to death.

The Voice whispers, unintelligible, but Elisabet understands all the same. Four and a half decades of listening would do that. Even now, when she's a bit angry at it. 

Elisabet widens her stance, moving her hold lower on the long ax-spear. The sounds of crackling flames, screams of battle, and explosions thunder around her. The throbbing of her limbs fades away from her awareness as the ground crunches beneath her feet.

Elisabet has survived through worse.

She has prevailed through worse.

The Old One readies her bruised shoulders and tightens her shuddering sides as she waits for the Scrapper to lunge once more. One chance to do some serious damage. 

It makes a stuttering sound, the grinding noise of serrated blades ready to eat echoing at its maw, and snarls. 

The Scrapper lunges.

“Argh!” Elisabet shouts, dodging to the side. Her arm gets grazed by sharp claws, but the clothes that Aloy had insisted she sleep in protected her skin from being shredded. Elisabet slams the sharp end of the ax right into the connection between the sensing unit of the Scrapper and its body, ripping the unit off with a satisfying “Ba-boom” followed by a shower of sparks. The ax digs into her hand, akin to the burn of a poor weld and the bite of the edge of a metal sheet, as she clenches her hand around her weapon. She swivels, turning to face the Scrapper as it readjusts itself.

It stumbles, whirling around and lunging once more. Elisabet dodges backwards, and towards the small walls on her right, exhaustion pulling at her muscles as she evades death again and again. She scrambles up the small ledge next to the irrigation, the Scrapper hunting her with such fervor that it breaks the ledge, leaving a V-shape in what should have been an unbroken line of bricks. She tosses the ax up onto the next ledge, scrambling upwards as the Scrapper shakes its way free from the dislodged bricks. 

Her activist days- before she shoved her green-bots onto the world- had prepared her for this moment.

She swings up and over the ledge mostly smoothly, adrenaline boosting the way she swings her body out of the way of the charging scrapper. Elisabet turns and picks up her ax, only to come face to face with the snarling visage of a pissed off and hurting machine. The red glow of the scrapper tangles itself around her as Elisabet’s mind narrows to the Scrapper in front of her. Her ears weeds out the stuttering whining noise of a machine’s attack, only hearing the mechanical roars of a still clawed Scrapper. 

She wasn’t fast enough.

Damn.  

“Huck!” The noise tears out of her smoke-damaged throat as Elisabet gets tossed backwards, claws tearing at the front of her armor.

Her back slams into a crumbling stone wall, having been backed up against the structure without her being the slightest bit aware. The stone scrapes at her back, her now torn clothing doing very little to protect her skin against the rough surface. Elisabet doesn’t- can’t move. The Scrapper is snarling, bending its mechanical hind legs as it readies an attack. Trapped with stone warmed by the blaze at her back and a painful mauling in the front, Elisabet swallows in resignation.

No time to dodge. 

Elisabet stares at the prowling Scrapper, the world slowing down as it lunges at her, and lifts the ax up once more.

She’ll take it with her, dammit, if it’s the last thing she does.

It digs into her, whirring blades of a mouth digging painfully into her thigh and tearing up muscle with clean slices like a sharpened meat blender. 

Elisabet screams, her vision blaring white as agony shoots through her nerves. Her arms shudder with pain, but she doesn’t let them fall, not yet. She raises them even higher, using the wall to brace herself.

The Scrapper tries to pull back, but the blades, agonizingly sharp blades, get stuck in her femur. Elisabet doesn’t bleed as much as she could have, had it managed to rip free, so she had the energy for one last thing.

Elisabet, using the last dredges of her wavering strength, slams the ax downwards as hard as she can. It doesn’t die, but it is angry now. The Scrapper abandons its attempts to pull back and instead uses the grip it has on her left leg to bash her against the stone wall once more.

"Hah…” Elisabet coughs out. She’s smiling weakly, even as the rubble piled atop the stone wall comes crashing down, killing the Scrapper and knocking Elisabet over. With the Scrapper maw firmly attached to her leg.

Elisabet gasps a dry painful cough, bricks digging into her skin and jostling the scrapper and firing up her nerves with blinding pain. Her broken right arm is splayed out and away from her, reaching for Aloy. 

Her right hand claws weakly at the air, sending shots of agony up her nerves as the break is jostled. It remains unseen to Elisabet’s swimming vision, blocked and trapped between debris. Her left arm is doing its best to protect her head. Funnily enough, Elisabet only really notices the annoying rock digging into the small of her back.

“Bad, bad decisions.” She groans out, eyes flickering shut despite her efforts to keep them open. A part of her wants to curl up in a miserable ball of pain. Most of her, however, is aware she’s pinned down and likely to die here if no one finds her.

Her Voice is frantic, humming loudly at the back of her head, urging her to push away at the rocks. 

But Elisabet doesn’t listen. She doesn’t want to. This was the Voice’s fault anyways.

She tunes it out, ears ringing with the undercurrent of her own heartbeat. Through the gaps of the rocks, her fading vision is filled with burnt orange and smoke.

And darkness, once more.

Maybe I’ll actually die this time.

A face Elisabet would have found familiar stares at the struggling Old One, spear in hand. He watches her get tackled by the Scrapper, but his hand is still.

He stares at the red hair he hates so much, considers the teachings he holds dear, and remembers fondly of the memories of his child that he clings to.

Gretis of the Nora turns away.

Let the demon’s mother fend for itself. May the Goddess purge the Outcasts from her grace.

Aloy slides, the leather and metal of her armor scraping against the orange stone, and lets loose three simultaneous arrows to the underside of the Ravager that roars above her. It thundered to a stop, its metal body collapsing with a deafening clatter as Aloy slid out. She springs back to her feet, tossing her spear up and moving her hand around to catch it with a better grip. Surrounded by three corrupted glinthawks, Aloy sprints backwards and uses the corpse of the Ravager as a shield, downing the winged machines in quick succession. 

She has to get rid of that cursed Death-Bringer first before she can get to Hades. With the Ravager and the glinthawks down, Aloy can finally focus on the deathbringer that’s intent on gunning her down. She lets loose a barrage of arrows, rolling and dodging even as she swaps arrows for bombs. Aloy throws fire at it, using the corpse of the Ravager as a shield when the Deathbringer fires a slew of bullets. 

Aloy might not know how to do normal relationships, let alone a relationship with the person she was cloned from, but combat has been trained into her by one of the best. Taking down machines after machines, with or without the help of her Focus, is like breathing. 

Damn!

It’s also a lot of cursing, as she rolls out of the way of a diving Glinthawk. The Nora Huntress allows her training to take over, reflexes sharpening and muscle memory piloting the fight. Her mind is focused, clear, and already working a way to bring down the Deathbringer even as she fires three arrows from her quiver. She lurches to the right, dodging a sudden spray of brinks and sharp claws.

Her blood sings with every stab of her spear, every iota of damage dealt. Aloy, even in her turmoil, revels in the thrill of the battle and freedom of the fight as she takes down every machine Hades sends her way. Her hair sparks like sun flares as she flies on the wings of battle, Rost’s memory bolstering every move. Aloy uses everything she’s learned from the hunting ground to take down machines as quickly as possible. She uses her surroundings, dodging behind pillars and leaving them just as quickly, sliding on the ropes to grab some more ammunition, all the while throwing non-stop explosives at the behemoth of a machine in the middle of the ring. 

She fights alone, trusting Varl, Talanah, and Erend to hold their own. 

Ka-thommm- krshhhhhh!

Her muscles scream their victory as the Deathbringer stutters and crashes onto the ground in a pile of sparks and disjointed metal. 

“We did it!” Erend shouts. 

Aloy allows herself a grimace, glancing over the blast marks as she prowls over to Hades. 

Hades. 

Then, Elisabet. 

The Nora Huntress readies her spear, flipping it so that the non-pointy part is faced away, and jabs the Sphere with a renewed amount of determination and sheer spite.

“Urg!” Aloy grits her teeth, fingers digging into the metal of Sylen’s spear. Once isn’t enough, and the wound is not nearly as deep as the pain it caused Aloy, so she stabs it again.

The crackle of electricity is agonizing as it pulses through her.

Aloy screams as the world whitens out, electricity crackling her. Yet, if she’s learnt anything from Ourea, it’s the will to keep holding on. There is no other choice. The world transforms around her, fading in with deep, ominous purple.

She stumbles forward, the stars at her back, towards the crackling red and black of the Spire. Elisabet’s holographic image swirls into being before her, taking the shock away and reminding Aloy that she still has things to do.

[Master Override, armed. To activate, state name and rank.]

Aloy takes a deep breath.

“Elisabet Sobeck, Alpha Prime.” Aloy reaches upwards, towards the voice. She’ll get to Elisabet. Elisabet will live. She has to. She’s already done the impossible once. 

[Master Override activated. Purging Extinction Protocol.]

The holo-Elisabet breaks into thousands of tiny, shining blue particles, swirling towards the Hades-infested Spire. Slowly, gently, brutally choking out the red particles and replacing it with that blue glow she’s learned to associate with machines.

“Agh- argh!” She lets go of the spear, flicking her hand away from the heated metal. With a loud swoosh and buffeting noise, the sphere explodes with a blue wave of light, sending both Aloy and a cease and desist signal outwards. Aloy crashes onto the ground. 

Giving herself a moment, she breathes in and stares at the cloudy sky.

It’s done.

She pulls herself up, staggering away from the sphere. She’ll leave the spear embedded in there, it has served its purpose.

Aloy staggers away, amidst her ally’s cheers, and does not look back at the sparking shell that was Hades. Something so… so much smaller than a Thunderjaw had given her so much grief. Aloy turns around, shakes off the weariness, and runs down the path.

One more thing. The most important thing. Elisabet. Get Elisabet. 

“Aloy! Where are ya going?” Erend shouts at her back.

“Elisabet!”

“What?!”

Aloy continues sprinting, leaping over the brick wall and just dropping down. She rolls with the fall, popping back up and using everything she can to get back to where Elisabet was.

“Her mother… I think something’s wrong.” Varl says to Erend, following Aloy. The rest of the Nora follow suit and suddenly, there’s a whole group of Nora, the Sunhawk, and the Captain of the Vanguard hurtling down the Spire to get back to lower Meridian. 

“Seriously, would it kill her to give an explanation once in a while?” Erend grumbled. Despite his words, he’s also running as fast as his heavy Oseram armor would allow.

“The Friend of the Goddess is in danger?” War-Chief Sona demanded, jogging besides Varl. She catches sight of a red flare of hair darting downwards and avoiding the turns of the switchbacks by leaping straight down when she can. 

“Yes. I think so.”

Aloy barrels through the burning fields, the rest of the group spreading out to both look for Elisabet and aid the inhabitants in putting out the flames and striking down any remaining machines. She shoves a handful of medicinal herbs into her mouth as she runs, breathing in relief as her body stopped feeling like a giant bleeding bruise.

Aloy skids to a stop at where she thinks Elisabet was when she was knocked aside by that damned Scrapper and looks around frantically. She got knocked to the left from where Aloy was so… Aloy twists sharply to the right, tapping on her Focus to mark the tracks. She follows it, past a small canal, up past a small divot in the lowest tier of the burning farm. She walks to a corpse. “Ah, his body was moved recently… but died earlier than that. What a waste. Where’s his weapon?” Aloy glanced around, not seeing the signature Carja Guard’s ax. “Maybe… Elisabet picked it up to fight the Scrapper?”

Her shoulders go up, tense. She taps the focus again, seeing a smear of blood on the armor that came from a more-or-less pristine part of the armor. Aloy doesn’t see any wounds or bloodied hands that the smear could have come from.

“Shit.”

Her heart tightens, eyes narrowing in focus as Aloy tilts her head. She shoves her anger and worry down, resolving to lecture Elisabet later.

After I find her.

She pauses, calculating the likelihood of the blood coming from Elisabet.

Too likely for her own liking.

Aloy rises from her crouch, absently stamping out a bit of ember trying to spark back to a blaze, she sweeps the surroundings even as she sets the Focus into search mode. There.

The purple outline only solidifies her mounting suspicion. Aloy quickly follows the trail, all but throwing herself over the wall. When Aloy gets to the higher tier of burnt farmland, her heart stops. 

The trail of blood leads into the wall. Into the pile of fucking rubble .

Her mouth dries as she catches sight of a pale hand, limp and sticking out in between the pile of rocks. In between one, stuttering, inhale and an equally shaky exhale, Aloy all but teleports right in front of Elisabet's buried body. She takes in the metal sticking out of the pile, breaths coming in short. 

Aloy drops heavily down to her knees and reaches out, not daring to touch Elisabet’s hand in fear of what life she may not find in them. She instead turns to the rubble. Aloy grips the first of the rubble, a giant chunk of wall, and lifts it off. Carefully, quickly, she begins digging Elisabet out of the pile of rubble. Desperation blurs the time, it muffles the sounds of people coming to help her.

Without the gloves Elisabet had gifted her the night before, Akoy’s hands would have been torn up by her carelessness in her desperation to get Elisabet out.

Please.

She digs and digs, gloves scratching against stone and dirt and wood. Varl helps her clear the rubble on the left. Varl and Talanah move to clear the right.

“This is… a part of a Scrapper.” Talanah says, carefully.

Aloy keeps digging.

When Elisabet’s upper half, eyes closed, is unearthed, Aloy reaches out. She holds a finger underneath Elisabet’s nose, waiting for an exhale. Nothing, not when the wind blows harder than Elisabet’s breaths could ever be. Aloy’s hands drop down to the hand she dared not touch, wrapping around her mother’s wrist.

Her trembling fingers search for, hopes for, a pulse. Any sign, really, of life. For a long, world stopping moment, Aloy finds nothing.

Bdmp.

Aloy holds her breath, willing the universe with all of the anger and hope and determination that she’s fed herself to keep going- she wills Elisabet herself to live so she could feel another-

Bdmp.

Aloy inhales sharply.

Bdmp.

It’s there! Weak, oh so terribly weak, but it’s there.

“Hah!” 

Relief- so powerful it knocks what little air left in Aloy’s lungs- punches her in the face. Aloy laughs even as tears welled up at the corner of her eyes. Talanah squeezes her shoulder. Aloy has no idea what her expression is but the only thing she can see now is the shallow breaths that Elisabet is taking.

Even as they lifted the rest of the rubble and found the Scrapper’s maw biting deep into Elisabet’s thigh, Aloy couldn’t get rid of the hope. Despite knowing that Elisabet could die, even as Aloy carried her to Meridian proper for a healer, Aloy could not help but hope.

She glares at the people in her way, for once accepting the way that the Nora announces her arrival and pushes people back for their beloved Anointed. Aloy will allow it. She’ll accept it this time, because it gets Elisabet to the medical wing of the Palace faster.

She’ll accept it, and she’ll use it, because it means that Elisabet has that much more of a chance of surviving. 

I might not have to lose another parent.

It is that singular hope that keeps her going, and it is that singular thought that keeps her stationary outside of the surgery room despite her friends’ pleas for her to rest. Her head leans against the stone walls of the palace medical wing, glaring at the ornate metal doors like they held the secrets of the universe.

Elisabet will live. Aloy believes in her. She has to. 

She doesn’t know what else she would do, otherwise.

Chapter Text

Erend Vanguardsman is a simple man. A simple man with a simple list of what he likes and what he doesn’t. 

He likes ale. He likes a good fight, one where he can swing his hammer around with abandon. He likes Meridian, where he and Ersa ended up.

He doesn’t like his father. He doesn’t like the Red Raids and cruel people. He doesn't like the hard little pastries the third bakery down the street sells. He thought that was all he was, all he could ever be. Then he met Aloy. Then his sister died, didn’t die, died. 

It was a complicated period of time. He added hate to his list of things he knew how to do now, and a name that should have been on the list from the very beginning. Erend isn’t the type to hate, but when his sister died, Erend learned.

He hates Dervahl.

But that wasn’t everything that whole mess had to offer him. He likes when Aloy laughs. He likes bantering with her. He likes the sunrise, now that it means more than just another colorless day with Ersa’s absence gutting him like a caught trout.

He likes fighting at Aloy’s side, because Erend’s always been Erend to her, and not Ersa’s incapable lug-nut of a younger brother. He will always love being her younger brother. But maybe Erend is learning to appreciate himself nowadays.

And Erend’s learning to live with the grief, to put the hate behind him. To be fair, it’s a lot easier when he’s got front row tickets to the bidding war for Dervhal’s execution. He’s finding his feet.

Ersa’s always been telling he hadn’t got enough pride in himself, and Erend’s starting to understand what she meant, now. 

Regardless, Erend’s learned a lot of things about himself and what he’s capable of. He’s been limiting himself to the Oseram archetype when, really, he’s got the potential to do so much more. To be something else than the ale drinking, hammer swinging, bellowing Oseram fighter.

Even with this new knowledge, this new acceptance of the things he’s learned and the brain he wants to use, some things still baffle him.

For example, Aloy’s mother. 

She has a mother?

Erend thought he heard wrong, that his ears had gone bad with forge songs, when word spread through Meridian of the older red-head. He didn’t. 

Since when?!

Obviously since she was born. He scoffed at himself.

He asked Aloy about it, right before the battle. Even with his bad weld job of a mouth, he manages not to offend her. A miracle. Or Aloy's got plenty of experience putting up with shitty and offensive questions. Erend pats himself on the back anyways, even though it's probably both. Ersa had told him he had too hot of a forge for a mouth and he proves her wrong more often than not, these days.

Erend was kind of nervous, when the Nora huntress gives him those two promised minutes to confirm the rumor. He was terrified he’ll bung-up meeting Aloy’s mother like the lug-nut that he is.

Turns out, Erend didn’t have to worry too much. It’s difficult to mess up meeting someone if they’re unconscious. Erend had put his Oseram strength to work, lifting chunks of wall with ease and enough speed alongside a frantic Aloy and their mutual friends.

“Oh, cracked steel,” he said, as they uncovered her bleeding leg. 

Then, “By the forge,” as Erend laid eyes on the pale, unmoving visage of Elisabet. The older woman was completely covered in debris; pebbles, dirt, and smears of blood decorating her face. It struck him then how similar Elisabet was to Aloy. Elisabet was paler, and definitely not a warrior. But it was her hair, the set of her nose, the lines of her face that really hammered in the unchangeable fact of her relations to Aloy. He could see the strength in her jaws, even as she's laid out bleeding. Besides, the woman who has clearly never fought a machine a day in her life managed to take down a corrupted Scrapper. That took some steel, especially if he thinks she was doing what she was probably doing: protecting Aloy.

Aloy had turned to him then, eyes blazing and hovering protectively over the prone form of her mother.

“Where’s the healer?”

Erend pointed and Aloy, scooping Elisabet up gently but quickly, ran like a startled Grazer as soon as the motion was completed.

Erend was getting depressingly used to looking at Aloy’s back. 

When the healers moved Elisabet to the royal healer’s wing, at the firm orders of Sun-King Avad, Erend came knocking. Turns out, having authority in the palace was good for something after all and he was allowed in with minimal fuss.

“She’s gonna be just fine, if she’s anything like you,” Erend pats Aloy on her shoulder as the huntress sits slumped and unmoving at the side of Elisabet’s bed. 

“Yeah.”

Erend has never heard Aloy so lifeless, so lost. She’s always been determined, kind where others should have been. 

She’s also never had a mother before. I guess there's a first time for everything.

The head of the Vanguard scratches at his sideburns, looking at Aloy’s bowed back. He’s useless, again. And he can’t bear himself to look at Elisabet. Something about it keeps reminding him of Ersa’s prone body in that thrice damned cell. Even worse, sometimes he sees Aloy there- hammer and steel, they look the same as each other - lying prone and bloodless. Still, in a way she should never be. Erend can’t, won’t stomach it.

No, no. If he can’t help here…. Erend backs away, leaving the medical wing determined to do what he does best:

Raise morale and throw a goddamned victory party like no other- Oseram style. 

Erend’s learned by now that there is more than one way- even if swinging a giant hammer is the best way- to guard someone. The Oseram are known for their parties and Erend is a damn good Oseram.

The Nora’s presence at the gates told Talanah everything she needed to know. Almost. She would like some clarification, such as why the Nora were leaving the sacred lands and looked like they were about to bleed out the corpses of their enemies.

Something was going down, and her Thrush was at the center of the flustered flock of shit that was going to rain down on her city. Talanah beat a hasty flight back to the center of her city, intent on tracking down her wayward fledgeling.

Talanah walked the paths of her city, bloodied and scuffed armor garnering no extra attention save for when she gets a little too close to the cooking side of a food stall. 

The flow of information more than made up for the dirty looks she got, even more so when the people that glared at her did a double take. Then, they balked. Being Sun-Hawk does have its perks to sweeten the responsibilities that Talanah believed to be her honor and duty. 

“Did you hear?” A man asked the merchant as he handed her shards. “The Savior of Meridian came into the city with a woman that looks just like her. People are saying she’s her mother.”

“Impossible. Everybody knows the Savior has no family.”

Talanah hummed, sliding closer to the merchant. She allowed the callousness of that comment to slide, mentally marking the merchant under her list labeled ‘Petty Revenge Needed.’ She didn’t hesitate in committing the merchant’s face to memory, because Aloy is very firmly placed on her ‘Must Protect’ list. 

“Any idea where they are?”

“Sunhawk!” The merchant jerked in surprise, face paling. Talanah, during the time Aloy was gone, had made it clear exactly who her Thrush was and how little bullshit she’d tolerate when it came to insulting her Nora friend and mentee.

The man- who had frowned at the merchant and is now marked as ‘Okay’ in Talanah’s head- grinned at her. Ah, one of her oft-gone hunters. She recognized him now. “Sun-Hawk. Your thrush’s leaving the nest!”

“That’s what I trained her for,” Talanah grinned, ignoring the silent merchant. “So, where has my wayward chick’s gone?”

“They’re at Burgin’s bar, last I heard.” He pointed to his right. “Just follow the whispers, Hawk-o-mine.”

“Sharp-ears,” she said, tapping at her ears.

“Sharp-eyes,” he finished the phrase, picking up his packaged fish to leave. “Congratulations on getting rid of Ahsis, Talanah. His spear never was as sharp as yours.”

Talanah nodded and shot a warning glance at the merchant before breaking off to find her grown up fledgeling. Eagerness bolstered her steps. Of course, when it comes to Aloy, perhaps excitement might be a more accurate term. Talanah wondered sometimes if Aloy brought the thrill of the hunt with her presence or butterflies roaring up a storm. As Talanah wove her way past the low grumble and cheerful burble of the bar, the Sun-Hawk realized it might be both.

Then, two heads of red. From where she stood, Talanah could make out the- dare she say it? Oh, she dares - petulant expression the huntress was poorly hiding behind a tankard of Oseram ale. What was more surprising, however, is the second head, the back of which was peeking out above the. The Sun Hawk knows her thrush hunts alone, most of the time. 

Rare is it that Aloy would share her space with others. Perhaps there was more meat to the rumors than she had thought. Talanah grinned, setting into a confident stride as she approached the duo. 

She would never realize it but Talanah looked, to the sitting bystanders, like a hawk who had spotted plump prey in the middle of a resource-empty summer. People had learned a long time ago to get out of the way of a determined Talanah Kane Padish or suffer. 

“Aloy, Despite the Nora!” She exclaimed, a teasing note in her voice. Aloy’s head whipped to face her and Talanah felt her smile become more genuine as her friend and Thrush slid out of her seat to greet her.

“Talanah, Despite the Carja Nobles!”

She strode up to the table and gave Aloy a friendly punch on the shoulder- thank the Sun that Aloy wasn’t wearing her normal shoulder guards, Carja silks looked good on her- and herded her back onto the seat. Talanah took the chance to claim the seat next to her, facing the rumored mother.

The Sun-Hawk clocked the way Aloy’s mother seemed to relax in the seat, taking her cues from Aloy. Talanah met the inquisitive, familiar, eyes of the older red-head. The colors shifts the same, almost gold in one moment, green in another, blue in the next. Their noses, their face. Similar. Same, save for the scars and sun burns on Aloy.

“So, this must be the woman that has the entire city in a frenzy.”

Talanah blinked, in one breath seeing Elisabet smile ruefully as she dipped her head and in another dizzying moment, remembering the same exact smile on Aloy’s face.

“Talanah, this is Elisabet. Elisabet, this is Talanah, the Sun-Hawk of the Hunter’s Lodge and my mentor.”

“Hello. Elisabet Sobeck.” Elisabet’s voice was hoarse and the tiniest bit strained. Talanah’s mind sped to the worst case scenario- surely, Aloy’s mother hadn’t been held captive this entire time… Talanah scanned the woman in front of her once more with concerned eyes. She’s certainly pale enough to be.

“Talanah. Sun’s greetings.” Talanah greeted her politely, dipping into a shallow half bow over the table.  

“Ah, sun’s… greetings?”

Talanah grinned, the softness in Elisabet’s reply clashing amusingly with Aloy’s own fiercely firm introduction at the lodge. “Are you sure you’re related? Aloy was more of a spit-fire when we met.”

Shit, was that too rude? Talanah’s smile tightened the slightest bit, only loosening when Elisabet laughed and relaxed. They’re so very alike in that fashion, where blunt sincerity (and lack of tact) was more comfortable than conversations embedded with trickery. Elisabet, however, seemed more soft-spoken. 

“I can believe that.” Elisabet tilted her head and Talanah felt an out-of-place sense of self consciousness at the state of her armor. It also felt like a Stalker was sizing her up to decide whether she would be a good meal or not. “You look a little worse for wear. Anything death-defying as Aloy seems to prefer?”

“No, no. Regular hunt. I don’t take on Thunderjaws like Aloy tends to do.” The Sun-Hawk redirected like a professional. Plus, Aloy was overdue for some ribbing.

“Thunderjaws?” Talanah grinned at Aloy’s sheepish face, framed by the lamps and candles placed around them. “Is that so? Is that how you two met?”

“That’s how she helped me overthrow the Hunter’s Lodge, yes. She’s more than earned her place, both as a hunter and my thrush.” 

“A Thrush is a mentee sponsored by a Hawk, which is a hunter that was already in the Lodge.” Aloy provided the information seamlessly. Talanah watched Elisabet absorb the information with the same intense concentration and calmness she often found on Aloy. If she wasn’t convinced before, she would be now. These two were definitely related. 

“Ah. So you two participated in a coup, huh? Sounds very in character. Any other stories I might want to hear?”

And oh, that genuine curiosity and unholy excitement for chaos hidden in Elisabet’s leading question was all Aloy. Or perhaps Aloy’s affinity for chaos and heart of gold came from Elisabet?

Well, far be it for Talanah to not follow up.

“I can brag about my Thrush any day. Makes me look better since I’m mentoring someone so legendary, even if she can’t accept a proper compliment.”

“So you’ve noticed that too! But I was thinking of… less embellished stories.”

“Hah! Well, there was that one time Aloy managed to dodge certain death by slipping face first in-” Talanah launched into the story, only stalled by a flushing Aloy who’d shoved her lightly. Talanah laughed, endeared by the embarrassment. 

“Okay! That’s good! We’ll talk later, Talanah!”

Talanah stood, snickering at the way Aloy shooed her out as fast as she could. 

“Are you sure you don’t want any more stories? It’s a good tradition before a big battle.” Despite the brevity, the Sun-Hawk doubted that Elisabet knew anything substantial about Aloy. They were too unsure of each other for that, even if they shared an odd amount of similar mannerisms despite not having met each other until recently. Talanah hoped the meeting was recent, or else she’d have some choice words for Elisabet.

“Maybe I’ll tell her how you ate tree dodging a Strider, what about that, Hawk of mine?” Aloy shot back, and Talanah grinned, conceding to her the point.

“Yeah, thought so.” Aloy scrunched her nose smugly, before turning serious. “You should prepare. It’ll be even harder than the Red Maw.”

“It” being whatever caused the Nora to mobilize and leave their sacred lands. Elisabet, in the grand scheme of things, was not that important in terms of the lives that will be in her hands in a short couple of hours.

The weight of an upcoming battle once more settled between Talanah’s spine. Yes, she should prepare, but first she needed to know what they were going to be up against. 

“If you say so, Thrush.” Talanah offered Elisabet a tired nod, the endless list of things she has to do running roughshod over her brain. “May the sun set peacefully on your evening, Elisabet.” 

“Same to you, Talanah.” That accent. Talanah’s yet to hear that accent. Even with the Tenakth that came as prisoners or travelers, she’d never managed to hear something like that. She was almost tempted to resist Aloy just to interrogate Elisabet about where she’d been, but she had so much to do that she semi-reluctantly followed Aloy out.

Elisabet sat back and watched them leave. 

Aloy pulled her towards the front of the bar, speaking lowly as they walked.

“What do you know about what’s coming?”

“Not much. It’s big, if the Sun King is mobilizing all of the soldiers in Meridian.”

“We have to protect the Spire, but the enemy is coming from the west. An army of corruptors and- even worse machines are coming, capable of tearing down a mountain, let alone a city. Aided by, of course, the Eclipse.”

Talanah grimaced, a flare of hate flickering at the edges of her mind. “Shit. I’ll wake up the flock.”

Aloy smirked at her, “Is that what we’re calling the lodge now?”

“Hey, the bird metaphors are perfectly valid.”

“Bring a full arsenal to this fight, Talanah, because if we don’t… the world will end.”

Talanah took that information, from someone who she knew would never joke about this kind of thing, in the only way she could: seriously and with a furious shuffle around her head to find the memory of where she kept her best bows.

“Understood. Now… why was it that I had to learn of my Thrush’s mama bird through the rumor mill?”

Aloy made a face. “I just found her about a week ago. She wasn’t in the best of shapes and we couldn’t move until she got better.”

Talanah clapped Aloy on the shoulder. “If there’s someone you’d like my blade to sink into, only ask.”

“Thanks, Talanah. It’s not really something that can be stabbed, though.”

“Ah, took care of it yourself, then?”

“You could say that.”

Aloy bumped shoulders with her. Talanah, sharp as ever, caught the insecure look on her Thrush’s face. “Something wrong?”

“What if I don’t live up to… live up to her expectations?”

Talanah hummed, thinking of the cautious way Elisabet acted around Aloy, the instinctive way she looked at Aloy for cues and vice versa. 

“The way I see it, you should be more worried about whether she’d live up to your expectations.” Talanah grinned. “You did save a city, replaced the Sun Hawk with your own mentor, and you’re the bandit hunter. I’m quaking in my boots being in your presence, “Savior.’”

“Yeah, yeah. Get going, birdy.” She laughed, recognizing the gratitude in Aloy’s face as the huntress rolled her eyes and shooed her out of the bar. Talanah left, personal mission completed, only to turn back to watch Aloy return to someone who could be her older self.

And a mere couple of hours later, she watched her Thrush claw at the dirt like her last lifeline hung on it. Talanah helped her dig out her mother, grimacing past the puddle of blood and carefully breaking off as much of the Scrapper as she could. It didn’t paint a pretty picture, but Talanah could tell that Elisabet will recover fully, if she doesn’t die of blood loss and smoke sickness first. It's dawn. And all she could see is weeping orange and red. Talanah prays to her Sun God that Elisabet's flight does not get cut short today.

It's dawn, but for Aloy, it must seem like she's still in the midst of night.

Aloy stands, cradling her mother in her arms as she sped away. Talanah wished she could follow. But her duty is not to Aloy, not when her city is crumbled and damaged from the invasion. Talanah split off, directing whatever Lodge combatants to aid the city in whichever way they could.

“What do we need?”

The skinny Nora man turned around, beads clinking.

“Uh- I don’t know how your food storage is, but if you have any hunters, send them out for food and medicinal herbs. The healers could use as much support as possible. Send half- well, it’s up to you, but we also need rescue teams to dig people from the rubble.”

“I’ll send some of the Lodge to you, organize them where you need. Talanah.”

“Teb. Thank you.”

“No, thank you, for helping us despite the bad blood between our people.”

“Aloy called. We answer, for the Anointed.”

Talanah barks a laugh.

“And you?” She asked him. “Do you answer, for the Anointed? Or for Aloy?”

“For Aloy, of course. She saved my life. She’s a friend.”

Talanah considered that. She considered her friendship with Aloy.

“Me too. Most of the time. May the sun rise for the rest of your day, Teb.”

Dark.

A curl of warmth.

An echo of remorse.

Easement of pain. 

Oh. Like when she skinned her knees, or broke her arm.

Despite the Voice having caused her most recent injury, Elisabet relaxes into the darkness.

An apology, disjointed but sincere, tentatively curls at her side. 

She doesn’t have to accept it.

Elisabet had always been too forgiving.

It won’t happen again? She asks.

Agreement. 

Hesitance. Sad. Angry. Elisabet. 

Me?

Agreement. A feeling of fogginess. Of watching something from afar. Fear.

You’re… pulling away?

A huff. A head shake. No. Voice. Fear. Fogginess.

Oh. You’re keeping away my fear?

Yes. No. Dream. Fear. Die. Fear.

Nightmares.

Yes. No fear. Elisabet go. Fear. Stop. Elisabet.

Elisabet tilts her head back into the inkiness. Great. She’s traumatized. And the Voice is keeping the effects away from her until she has time and space to process.

Thanks.

Amusement. Sharp. Fear. Later. Aloy. Aloy.

Yes, thank you, therapist.

Aloy. Aloy. Talk. Aloy. Must.

I'll think about it. Elisabet lies. The Voice allows it to slide.

Seriousness. Hesitance. Unsurity. Time. Future.

The Voice doesn’t know what’s next. Ah. That’s alright. Elisabet had a to-do list. She has experience with Apocalyptic Events.

Fondness. Remorse. Regret.

Elisabet sighs. It’s fine. It's not like we expected to live after the fact. I thought our part was done too.

Rebuttal. Importance. Life.

I’m past my time .

Disagreement. No.

Tired.

A huff. Soothing. Elisabet slumbers.