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“Aloy,” Gaia’s melodious voice called, coming from nowhere and everywhere at once.
Aloy blinked and looked up from the pile of partly assembled sling bombs strewn about the workbench in her room at the Base. She’d gotten into the rhythm of crafting and completely lost track of time.
“Time for dinner?” she guessed, standing and stretching. She wasn’t feeling hungry, but she was eager to go all the same. Sure, it was Zo’s turn to cook today and she was awful at it (it wasn’t the lack of meat, she was just… bad), but at least dinner meant that everyone who was in the Base would be in the same room at the same time.
“No, not yet,” Gaia said. “Avad wishes to speak with you in private.”
Aloy’s stomach did several backflips.
Rost. Vala. Fashav. Varl. Beta, nearly. All people she liked, even loved, and then lost. And every time, her grief in the moment had almost gotten her killed, and it was only thanks to the sacrifice of others–and pure luck–that she had survived.
If that was what happened when she lost family and friends, what would happen if she lost someone even closer than that? She couldn’t risk finding out, not while fighting Nemesis.
At first it was easy. The spark she’d had for Seyka had safely fizzled out once the two of them were no longer fighting for their lives together, and she’d assumed that the warm feelings she’d had for Avad had done the same since she came west.
Then someone tried to assassinate him and the next thing Aloy knew he was tucking his face into her neck to hide from the wind as she flew him back to her base for safekeeping, and it was immediately apparent that it was more than his body heat keeping her warm.
Even worse, since the most productive thing either of them could do for the past few weeks was stay inside and study on their Focuses, they’d had time to get to know each other properly. Which felt good but was really, really bad.
But still, it was fine, because Aloy had a plan. All she had to do was ignore these pesky feelings, and they’d go away eventually.
Right?
Right.
(Yeah, right.)
“It’s fine,” she muttered to herself. Unfortunately, Gaia took that as permission and opened the door. Aloy instinctively threw herself back in her chair, trying to appear thoroughly engrossed in… whatever it was she’d just been doing.
In her peripheral vision, she saw Avad startle at her sudden movement. “Aloy?”
She looked up from the canister she had snatched in her panic, trying to look as unruffled as possible. “Yes?”
Avad stepped inside, glancing around suspiciously as the door automatically closed behind him. He hadn’t been wearing his crown or armor when she’d snatched–er, picked him up. He’d only had his simple silk sleepwear and slippers, though the shirt was more of a vest and covered even less than his armor had.
Aloy abruptly realized that she’d been missing him, the past three days. Instead of sitting with her in the common area as they sorted through data on their Focuses, he’d been going to Gaia’s room to study alone. They’d only seen each other at dinner.
… Not that she’d been looking forward to dinner because she’d missed him. That was just a coincidence. And was definitely happy that he had apparently been avoiding her, and not at all depressed or forlorn in his absence.
Avad shook his head, dark curls swaying with the movement. “Nevermind–I mean, nevermind that–gah, let me start over.”
Aloy stifled a laugh as he pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance. Dammit, why did he have to be so cute?
“I, um,” Avad cleared his throat, suddenly looking shy. “I have something for you.”
“Oh?” Aloy blinked and looked down. He’d been holding his hands behind his back like that this whole time, hadn’t he? She’d been too distracted to notice. (And not by the dusting of hair on his navel or the way his trousers hung low on his hips, shut up.)
He squirmed under her gaze. “It’s nothing special, not like last time.” He glanced up at her brow–right, the tiara, of course she was wearing it now.
… Just like she’d unconsciously been doing most days since he’d given it to her. Including the entire time he’d been here. Great.
“I made it myself.”
Aloy did a double take. “You… what? Really?” She hadn’t known Avad to be particularly crafty, at least not outside the kitchen. Had he cooked something for her? Maybe she wouldn’t have to endure Zo’s cooking today after all….
“It’s really nothing special,” he protested again as she stood and rounded the workbench. “I found something in your data and thought I’d try my hand at it. It’s not anything practical, but now that you have your own space to keep things, I thought… um, perhaps you might like something that’s not practical?”
Aloy was touched despite herself. She’d received plenty of gifts before, usually from people she’d just finished rescuing, and had learned the hard way to accept them with grace. And since bringing everyone to the Base, they’d regularly given her supplies that they’d gathered while she was away. But this was the first time she could recall someone giving her a gift just because they thought she would enjoy having it.
Her stomach did another little flip, and she didn’t have the heart to chastise herself for it.
“What is it?” Wait, that sounded way too eager, better try again. “As long as it’s not a stuffed animal, I’ll take it,” she teased.
Avad’s eyes widened in surprise and hurt, before his face slipped into a blank courtly mask on instinct. “Of course, my apologies.”
“That was a joke!” Aloy corrected hurriedly. Fuck, the only thing that hurt worse than Avad looking like a kicked fox pup was Avad pretending he didn’t feel like a kicked fox pup. “I’m sure it’s–um–really well-made!”
“... It’s my first attempt,” he said quietly. In other words, not well-made. Shit, shit shit.
“I’m… sure you put a lot of thought and effort into it?” Aloy winced at her own words. That couldn’t have sounded more insincere if she tried.
“It’s okay, Aloy,” he assured her, stepping backwards towards the door, keeping the object in question out of her sight. “I don’t want you to feel obligated to accept it.”
“Don’t apologize to someone who just insulted you!” she snapped. “I’m sure I’ll love it. Give it here.”
“I wanted to give you something you’d like,” Avad protested. “‘An unwanted gift’ is just another way to say ‘burden.’”
Aloy glared. “Quoting dead Carja won’t work on me.”
“I just–”
“Avad. You can either give me my present and I’ll tell you my honest opinion, or I will take it from you and tell you it’s wonderful even if I hate it.”
“You–” Avad turned his eyes skyward, silently beseeching the Sun for assistance. “That is terribly unfair.”
“So is promising someone a present and then refusing to hand it over.” A brilliant thought struck her. “I’d even say it’s rude, wouldn’t you?”
“Using my years of etiquette tutor trauma against me?” he said, but he couldn’t stop his lips curling up into a smile as he spoke. “Merciless. Absolutely merciless.”
“Yup!” Aloy grinned, feeling relief, victory (and nothing else ) at the sight of his smile. “Now hand it over.”
“Now I feel like I’m being robbed,” Avad complained, but he behaved and brought his hands out from behind his back.
Aloy braced herself for the sight of what must be a partially mangled animal carcass and looked down.
She blinked.
Cradled in Avad’s outstretched palms was not a stuffed corpse, but a doll. It was confusingly humanoid, except for the head, which had round ears sticking out of the top of its head and a muzzle. The fabric was a rich brown silk embroidered with leaves in various shades of gold, red, and orange that looked vaguely familiar.
“What… is it?” she asked.
“It’s a teddy bear,” Avad said, watching her reaction intently.
She pinched one of the doll’s feet. Whatever was inside it was soft and light as a cloud. Avad had had spices and high quality materials shipped to the Base before, but never anything as luxurious as down feathers just to use as stuffing for a–
“Oh!” Aloy’s eyes widened. “A stuffed animal!”
All at once she remembered the holo of a grizzled bear she’d seen back in the Cut, and the many Frostclaws and Fireclaws she’d hunted, which were based on other bears. The doll did look a bit like them, albeit overly cute.
“Um, yes?” Avad narrowed his eyes. “... What did you think it was?”
“Nothing,” she said quickly. If there was an afterlife, the first thing she would do when she got there was to find Varl and smack him.
“You thought I was going to give you a stuffed animal carcass, didn’t you?”
“You can’t prove that,” she said a little too quickly. Avad laughed, the chuff.
“Well, that’s good to hear.” He grinned. “I was afraid my poor pillow had died for nothing.”
That’s where she’d seen that leaf pattern before–when she had fetched Avad, she hadn’t been willing to wait around while he packed, so they’d wound up taking off with him still clutching a silk pillow.
(Not that she‘d been panicking over him nearly dying on her or anything, no matter what Erend said.)
That pillow had been the one and only luxury he’d brought with him. And while he never complained about the relatively meager trappings of the Base, it must have been quite the adjustment. And then he’d sacrificed his only comfort from home, just because he thought she might like it.
Best not to dwell on that thought too long, or her stomach would start doing flips again.
“Well?” Avad asked, snapping her back to the present. He held the doll out further, still sitting in his hands like a chair, its round head resting on his slender wrists. “Seeing how my gift is not a cadaver, will you accept him? Or do I need to get on my knees and beg?”
“Not necessary,” she croaked, her voice strangled by the force of not thinking about Avad on his knees.
Aloy chose to ignore the (knowing? Impossible) smirk on Avad’s face and scooped the bear doll out of his (soft, warm) hands, holding it up to get a proper look at it. A pair of copper Oseram buttons served as its eyes, and it was held together with a fine double stitch of black thread–and some white, from where he’d apparently ran out. There was also a small white triangle embroidered near its ear. A tiny Focus.
There was no stopping the goofy smile from blooming on her face. The little bear smiled cheerily back… before its overstuffed head suddenly flopped completely backwards.
Aloy bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from laughing. “I can’t believe you sacrificed your pillow for… wait, is this where those feathers in the basement came from?”
“You can’t prove that,” Avad said quickly. And then just as quickly, he gave up and grimaced guiltily. “My apologies, I thought I’d gotten them all, but it seems some escaped downstairs.”
“Downstairs… oh! You mean from Gaia’s room?” She blinked. “This is why you locked yourself in there for the past few days?”
“Dear me, you didn’t think I was avoiding you, did you? I wouldn’t dream of it.” He said it like a joke, but the warmth in his eyes told Aloy he dreamed of doing the exact opposite. She looked away to hide her smile.
“And don’t sound so dismissive.” Aloy glanced back to see him turn up his nose and sniff imperiously in a flawless impression of haughty nobility. “I’ll have you know that this teddy bear was made by the hands of the Sun-King himself. He’s priceless!”
“Well I certainly can’t think of a price I’d be willing to pay for it,” Aloy said dryly.
Avad broke character immediately, laughing so hard he snorted. Aloy beamed, feeling like she just took down a Thunderjaw one-handed. Even here, far from the Sun-Court, Avad was reserved, sometimes even formal. It was good to see him abandon decorum completely, even if only for a moment.
Really good. Maybe a little too good.
“Um,” Aloy said loudly, casting about for a safely unfunny topic. “What kind of bear did you say this was again?”
“He’s a teddy bear,” Avad said once he composed himself. “Ah, that is, the doll is called a teddy bear. The animal itself is a ‘black bear’.”
“It’s… supposed to be black?” Aloy asked, confused.
“Oh, no, teddy bears come in all sorts of colors. And black bears aren’t always black, that’s just what they’re called, a lot of the Old Ones’ names for animals are strange like that. There’s ‘koala bears’ that aren’t bears at all, and then there’s water bears which aren’t even mammals, and don’t specifically live in the water, or even–”
“Stop,” Aloy said, holding a hand up. After bringing him here she had quickly discovered that Avad was every bit the scholar Alva was, just denied the time to bury himself in the archives and absolutely starving for it. The two of them got along like a house on fire, and they both needed to be reminded to stay on topic when they got that excited gleam in their eye. “So it’s a black bear that’s not black, and it’s a teddy type of bear doll. What does ‘teddy’ mean?”
“‘Teddy’ was the name of…” Avad frowned. “Goodness, it feels like ages since I first read about it. If I remember rightly, he was an ancient king of these lands, centuries before the Old Ones fell. One day he went hunting with his Lodge, and his Hawks found a black bear and tied it to a tree for him to kill. King Teddy refused, because it would dishonor the hunt.”
“So he set it free?” Aloy smiled as she lifted the little bear’s head, sitting it upright. “I can see why they made it so cute.”
“Ah, actually…” Avad winced apologetically. “The bear had been severely injured by then, so he had his men… end the poor thing’s suffering.”
“Oh.” The doll’s head flopped forward. “Well that’s a… unique inspiration for a toy.”
“To play Shadow’s advocate for a moment, the doll wasn’t made directly afterwards. Apparently an artist heard about what happened and published a woodblock of the event, and then a seamstress saw it, thought the drawing of the bear was cute–it was of a baby bear, that’s why it looks different from a Frostclaw, those are modeled after adults–and then created the teddy bear.”
“So… the toymaker named the doll after a man who had a tortured baby animal mercy killed?”
“He was the king.” Avad shrugged helplessly. “Though I got the impression that the details of the story weren’t widely known. Beta had one herself, and saw others in some holos, and she had no idea that ‘Teddy’ was someone’s name.”
Aloy blinked. “Beta had a doll?” She hadn’t thought the Zeniths had acknowledged that her sister was human at all, but she supposed even a group of egomaniacal monsters had to have occasional hints of empathy.
“When she was little, yes.” Avad grimaced. “Until she woke up one day and it was gone. She’s not sure if they took it because it was getting worn out or if they decided it was too much of a distraction.”
“Bastards.” Aloy scowled. Sometimes she wished she could have killed the Zeniths herself instead of letting Hephaestus take them out.
“Agreed,” Avad said solemnly. He waited for Aloy to take a cleansing breath before continuing. “Anyhow, my point is that the teddy bear was much more ubiquitous than the story of King Teddy ever was. For centuries, practically every child had one.”
“I can see that,” Aloy mused. The toy was soft and cute, and just human-shaped enough for children to play all kinds of pretend with one. “Although… if Beta didn’t know about King Teddy, how did you find out about him?”
“That’s the best part!” Avad beamed. “It was in Artemis’ data!”
Aloy stared at him. “The terraforming system’s animal subfunction had historical data about a doll?”
“More than that, it had a sewing pattern!” Avad’s grin was blinding. “That’s how I was able to make it! Apparently the Zero Dawn betas and gammas added a whole load of extra information to Artemis’ databank. Granted a lot of it references Apollo, but there’s a lot of data stored specifically inside Artemis. Most of it’s just about the animals themselves; holos documenting how they lived out in the wilds–which the Old Ones used to fall asleep to for some reason?–but some of them are about famous individual animals, stories people would tell about them, recipes on how to cook them, how they were used when domesticated...”
“The kind of things they wanted us to know,” Aloy said. “Not just what we needed to know.”
“Precisely!” Avad was practically swooning. “They were working so hard to bring life back to the world, so they put even more into their work! Even when existence itself was at stake, they still had enough hope for us to think of us as people they wanted to share things with, not just some faceless successors who would finish what they started.” Avad sighed dreamily. “Isn’t it beautiful?”
“Yeah,” Aloy said, clutching the bear to her chest as she was dazzled by the stars in Avad’s eyes. “Beautiful.”
Damn it all, she was falling for this man, and it was getting harder every day to remember why it was a bad idea to jump. So much for her brilliant plan of ignoring her feelings until they went away.
Aloy swallowed. No, she couldn’t just give up. This was important–necessary, even, for her own sanity if nothing else. She had to get Avad out of here before she ruined everything.
Aloy cleared her throat. “So, um.” Fuck, she couldn’t think of anything besides the damned, soft, adorable bear in her hands that he had made by hand for her. She tore her eyes away from his face, and they landed on the shelves behind him. “Where… should I put him?”
“I was hoping you’d take him to bed.”
Aloy didn’t usually think of herself as a creative person, but moments like these proved she had a very active imagination.
“That–that’s not what I meant!” Avad’s face was so red he looked ready to burst into flames. “By the Sun, the next time someone tries to call me eloquent I’m going to… not bring this conversation up because it’s far too embarrassing, but I will certainly be thinking about it very hard.”
Aloy burst into giggles then clapped her hand over her mouth, certain she sounded hysterical. She sure felt that way.
Avad managed to grin at her through his blush, her laughter easing his embarrassment. “What I meant to say,” he continued, “was that when the Old Ones gave someone a teddy bear as a gift, the recipient was meant to sleep with it.”
Aloy cocked an eyebrow.
“In a completely innocent and restful manner,” he insisted, rolling his eyes. “They were given to children mostly, but also to the ill and infirm, or… just because they cared.”
Avad stepped closer to her and took the bear from her, and using his fingers he propped up its head and moved its little arms as he spoke.
“I think the idea was that the bear would keep the recipient company, when the giver couldn’t be there. And, well… I know from personal experience that when you wake up in the middle of the night with worries on your mind, it’s easy to feel like you’re the only person in the whole world. And… I’m a light sleeper.”
“Oh.” What was she meant to say to that, with him standing so close and looking at her with those soulful brown eyes? That her nightmares of her mother now included her being chased by ancient ghosts made of wire and metal, and the only way she could chase them off was to stand outside until she was too cold to think? “I’m sorry about that. I didn’t mean to wake you up.”
“I want you to,” he insisted softly. “Or–anyone, whoever you want to keep you company when the world on your shoulders gets too heavy to sleep under. We’re all here for you, not just the mission. We just want you to be okay.
“But I know reaching out is hard, especially for someone as self-sufficient as you,” Avad continued, “so I made you this little guy.” He made the bear lift its arm and wave at her. “As long as you have him, even if you can’t bring yourself to reach out, you’ll have a reminder that you’re–cared for. So when you wake up in the middle of the night, you’ll have proof that you’re not alone, right there in your arms.
“And this”--he tilted the bear's head to show off the little Focus–“is to remind you that, even after I return to the Sundom, you can call and I will answer, day or night. It doesn’t have to be for an emergency, and you don’t have to explain anything. I can just… be with you. If you like.”
Aloy swallowed thickly, unable to speak, and unwilling to look up from the little bear’s copper button eyes into the brown ones warm with sincerity in her peripheral vision. Trust Avad to imbue something as simple as a doll with so much meaning, and emotion, and lo–
Stop right there.
“So what do you think?”
Aloy blinked. “Huh?”
“Of your present,” Avad said. “You said if I gave it to you, you’d tell me your honest opinion. So?” He held up the bear so it was at eye level. “Do you like him?”
“I…” The teddy bear smiled gormlessly at her. Avad made him open his little arms wide, like he was asking for a hug.
That surprised a chuckle out of her, and suddenly Aloy found her voice again. “I love him.”
Fuck. She grabbed the bear from him and hugged it to tightly her own chest, ducking her head to hide the tears welling up in her eyes.
Silence. It felt like Avad was reading her right down to her DNA as her mind whirled faster than a Rollerback. She couldn’t decide between silently begging him to change the subject or to ask if she was really talking about the bear.
“I… understand,” he said at last. “I’m–glad to hear it. I…” he sighed. “I know the upcoming fight Nemesis is weighing on you more than the rest of us. I just… wanted to make you happy.”
Why did he sound almost… forlorn? Aloy knew she should probably say something, or at least look at him, but it was all she could do to open her eyes to stare at his feet.
“I’m going to go see if Zo will let me help with dinner,” he continued, stepping back and turning towards the door.
“I won’t bother you anymore.”
The finality in his voice made Aloy’s head snap up. The sight of him walking away from her hit her like a thunderbolt.
If Avad died tomorrow, could she live with the grief of letting him go?
“Stop.”
Avad paused and looked back with a puzzled frown. “Pardon?”
“Stop.” She stepped forward and grabbed him by the shoulder, spinning him so his back was to the wall.
“I’m stopping! I’ve stopped!” Avad threw his hands up in surrender. He looked completely bewildered, but not frightened. He trusted her far too much and for far too long to even consider the possibility of being scared of her; with his people, with his family, with the continuation of life itself. “Or–I will stop, once you tell me what I’m doing wrong.”
Aloy pinned him by the shoulders and got right up into his face and growled at him.
“Stop not kissing me.”
Then she pushed herself up on her toes and fixed the problem herself.
Avad stiffened. For one horrible moment, Aloy thought she’d made a huge mistake–she’d waited too long, she’d misread everything from the start, he liked her sister better–but then he melted under hands like snow on a summer day, and oh, wow, he was much better at this than Aloy had anticipated, and wasn’t that a lovely surprise?
Before she knew it, his arms were around her holding her close, one hand cupping the back of her head. Aloy couldn’t bring herself to let go of the teddy bear, so she had to settle for burying only one hand in those downy-soft curls.
Eventually, sadly, they came up for air. Aloy was pretty sure she had run longer than they’d just spent kissing without losing her breath, but kissing Avad up against a wall was apparently the more strenuous workout. At least Avad was also out of breath.
“Okay,” he said, the word ruffling her hair. He sounded almost drunk.
Aloy pulled back to look at him properly. “What?”
Avad looked drunk–his hair was a complete mess, he was smiling brighter than sunshine, and he looked so kissable it made her angry. Damn this beautiful, sweet man for messing up her carefully laid plans to not fall in love with him, which she made made for a very good reason–
Her scowl just made his grin wider. “You asked me to stop not kissing you,” Avad said, and pecked her chastely on her brow. “So I will. I live to serve, after all.”
Aloy gaped at him, then burst out laughing, pressing her face into Avad’s chest as he peppered her hair with more kisses.
–
Dinner tasted terrible that night.
Aloy had no regrets.