Chapter Text
Aloy
Aloy is no diplomat, no matter what the Carja would like her to think. She’s the get-things-done person. The one who takes charge to get things rolling but who will happily fade into the background once other people are involved.
To be a diplomat, a person needs to be diplomatic—an increasingly difficult task when one has suffered Carja hospitality for four months.
Sure, she’s in a unique position when it comes to settling things between East and West, perhaps even more so than Fashav was. But if she has to sit through one more make-nice dinner with an annoyingly pious Sun-Priest or some other self-centered member of the nobility, she’s going to snap like an over-tightened bowstring, and that would be incredibly undiplomatic behaviour.
She says as much to Kotallo one morning during their daily pre-meeting chat, pacing around her Meridian apartment with the same restless energy that’s been plaguing her these past few weeks.
“I have a good feeling about today,” he replies, voice light. He’s been sounding more upbeat lately—something more akin to his old self before Regalla’s attack, going by what the Chief has said of him. Which is good. At least one of them has to keep a positive outlook in the face of all this tedium, so it might as well be the man whose job description actually includes diplomacy.
Aloy brings up the display on her Focus and finds her notes from yesterday’s meeting. It hadn’t gone well. There’d been one particular noble who wouldn’t understand the importance of foreign relations if it bit him in the ass, and nobody was doing anything to stop him. “What makes you say that?” she asks, paging through the files.
“The Chief sent word to the commanders yesterday to prepare a contingent of soldiers for an Embassy. He wouldn’t take that step prematurely.”
“Really? After yesterday’s disaster?”
“Indeed. He understood that this ‘Splendid Taldiv’ individual does not speak for all Carja. And you effectively shut the man up, for which you have my thanks.”
Aloy has a feeling that Splendid Taldiv won’t be present at the table today. He doesn’t have a Focus anymore, after all, and there may be lingering effects from when someone ‘accidentally’ overloaded the one he did have. Turns out an intense burst of high-frequency white noise in close proximity can shut someone right up. The man’s ears are probably still ringing.
Well. It’s better to be down a Focus than have his ignorance ruining the progress of negotiations.
“That’s a relief,” Aloy says. “Maybe we can get that APOLLO facility built sometime this century, then.”
Kotallo laughs that deep, rumbling laugh of his. Despite his recent cheerfulness, his laughter still feels like a novelty, like something only she’s privy to—even though his good mood must extend into the rest of his day, as well. “Yes, that would be ideal,” he says.
He’s the only one of Aloy’s friends she speaks to with anything approaching regularity, given that they spend a good portion of each day at the same virtual negotiating table. Not that she doesn’t talk to the others. They’re simply busy with their own tribes, their own tasks. No hard feelings there.
But Kotallo always seems happy to chat, and she looks forward to their conversations. She finds them grounding, like she’ll be ready for anything as long as they can have this.
By the end of the day, Kotallo’s suspicions are proven correct.
It might not be perfect, it might not touch on everything they’ve discussed, but an agreement is reached.
There is to be an Embassy where Hekarro and Avad will meet in person for the first time—a meeting where they will ratify the first treaty that will see APOLLO finally fulfilling its purpose.
For the first time since defeating the Zeniths, Aloy feels a real glimmer of hope sparking in her chest.
—
Of course, there are always detractors, naysayers, critics. Such is the way of politics. But when those loudmouths hold a lot of power within the court, it can be a problem.
“Aloy,” Blameless Marad says one morning right after she and Kotallo end that day’s conversation. “You were planning to return to the Forbidden West in a few days, correct?”
“Um, yes…?” she says, not liking the tone of his voice.
“There is a… situation in the Sun-Court.”
Aloy had not realized what a relief the thought of returning west had brought her until the prospect of not going back presents itself. “Please don’t tell me I have to stay.”
“No, in fact, you may wish to leave earlier. Right now, even. There are a significant number of nobles in the courtyard who are, at this moment, clamoring about His Radiance needing to strengthen his ties here in the East before signing any treaties with the Tenakth.”
“Okay,” she says. “What does that have to do with me?”
“By ‘strengthening ties,’ they mean for him to make a marriage pact. You are their favourite candidate for such an alliance. In fact, you are their only candidate.”
“I’m… what? They want me to marry Avad?”
“Yes. And you know he is amenable to that idea, so you may wish to make yourself scarce until I can convince everyone otherwise.”
“That doesn’t make any sense. He told me back when we first met that he and Ersa couldn’t be together because the Carja and the Oseram would revolt.”
“The people are fickle, Aloy. And there are many in the Sun-Court who want you to solidify your ties to the Carja permanently. I think they’ve gone from seeing you as some elevated savage to truly Carja at heart.”
“I hate politics,” she mutters. In hindsight, it was only a matter of time before they turned their attention to her. She should have seen this coming. “Okay, fine. I’ll pack up and head out as soon as I can.”
“Make sure you aren’t seen. May the sun light your way, Aloy.”
—
Aloy’s journey to the Daunt will be a less hurried affair than the first time, even if she still plans to make most of it on Chargerback.
She leaves her Sunwing at the palace at Marad’s suggestion. He’ll be able to cover her absence for a couple of days, but not so much if she departs on the back of a flying machine where anyone can see her. So she heads out on foot.
The first day of her journey sees her to an empty Oseram encampment a ways north of Cut-Cliffs. She sets up her bedroll in an old lean-to, and, come dawn, she’ll find a herd of Chargers and be on her way.
“Hey, Kotallo?” she says into her Focus as she sits by her newly built fire and looks up at a night sky awash with stars. She hasn’t had the chance to enjoy those stars properly for a long time.
“Aloy.”
Oh, it’s good to hear his voice. She’d spent her entire walk here fretting about Carja nonsense, and his steadying presence—even if it’s virtual—is a balm to her overwhelmed mind. “There’s been a change of plans. I left today instead.”
“All the better, then.”
“Why’s that?”
A pause. “It will be good to see you in person. You have been gone a long time.”
“Yeah,” she breathes. “I have. Hey, maybe I’ll make it in time for that melee tournament you told me about the other day.”
“It will be going on for some time, but yes, you will be here when it commences. I’m sure the pitmasters would all relish the opportunity for a rematch.”
“I’d like that. A few good rounds in the pit should be enough to take my mind off things for a while.”
“What’s the matter?”
“Marad told me this morning that the Sun-Court wants Avad to make a marriage pact to ‘strengthen ties’ here in the East.”
“I assume they mean with you?”
“Yeah. Can you believe that?”
“The Carja nobility seem to enjoy playing petty games. So yes, I can.”
“Fair point. Marad told me I should probably get out of Meridian before they tried anything, and I agreed. At least someone there knows I have better things to do than marry for appearances. Or for any reason, really.”
The fire makes a loud cracking noise, a column of sparks ascending as a log breaks in two.
“You are a busy woman,” Kotallo agrees.
They chat about the treaty for a bit after that. Kotallo tells Aloy that a trade agreement is in the works with the Oseram at Hidden Ember now that Commander Drakka has finally agreed to parley.
Early on during Aloy’s time in Meridian, a few intrepid delvers traveling to the settlement had approached Tenakth scouts in the desert about importing alloys, ales, and artificing knowledge in exchange for right of passage in the Clan Lands.
Knowing Drakka, Aloy hadn’t expected anything to come of it, but the man apparently continues to surprise her.
“They mentioned they were friends of yours,” Kotallo says. “Out of everything, that was what made the commander agree to see them. We will see what comes of it.”
Eventually, the fire burns down to a dull crackle, and Aloy can’t stop herself from yawning as she speaks. She drifts off shortly after insisting she’s happy to keep talking.
—
The sun sets, the sun rises. A dust storm whips up out of nowhere southeast of Sunfall, forcing her to take shelter.
The interference from it means no signal, and therefore no way to communicate her delay, until it abates. She learns this when she braves the wind and climbs up as high as she can until the struggling network finally makes a connection, if only barely.
“Kotallo?” she tries.
“Aloy,” Kotallo’s reply comes through, garbled and crackly. He sounds worried. “What is your status? We have been ---- reach you --- Marad ---- plan for ---- with the Carja noble court.”
“There’s a storm. Signal’s bad, but I’m—Kotallo? Can you hear—”
Annnd there goes the connection. Aloy sighs, trying to raise him again with no success. She tries the rest of the crew, tries Marad even, but there’s nothing.
So she hunkers down in a rocky alcove until the storm blows over.
—
The moment Aloy’s Focus gets itself a proper network connection, a flurry of notes comes through from Beta and Alva. Updates on the merge with HEPHAESTUS, updates on the situation in Legacy’s Landfall, updates on the latest things GAIA has been able to do with most of her subfunctions back.
Before she has a chance to sift through it all, a familiar voice pings in her ear.
“Aloy, it’s Kotallo. Are you there?” It might be the audio compression, but his voice sounds strained.
“Hey, yeah, I’m here.”
“Thank the Ten, I’m glad you’re safe. You… are safe, aren’t you?”
“I am. Storm was bad, but I managed. How did you know I had a signal again?”
“I… didn’t. I have attempted to contact you every few hours since I lost the connection.”
“Oh.” Aloy’s heart clenches with some abrupt feeling she can’t identify.
“It was difficult not to fear the worst. But it is a relief to hear your voice.”
His earnestness halts the flippant remark she’s about to make about her superior survival skills. “It’s good to hear yours, too,” she murmurs instead. “Thank you. For looking out for me.”
“Always,” Kotallo replies.
A moment passes, then two. She takes a deep breath, but he speaks first.
“We received word from Marad,” he says. “He was also attempting to contact you regarding a plan of action for the situation with the Carja.”
“Did he tell you what he had in mind?”
“He did,” he says. “It would require Tenakth… involvement. I’m not sure you’ll much like it either.”
“What,” she scoffs, “does he want me to marry a Tenakth instead?”
Kotallo doesn’t reply, and Aloy’s skin goes cold.
“You can’t be serious.”
“I told you you wouldn’t like it,” he says, his voice taking on a resignation she hasn’t heard from him since she’d recruited Regalla for their battle at the Zenith base. “It would not be nearly as restrictive as a marriage to the Carja king, but Chief Hekarro would like to see you as soon as you arrive. As would I. There is much to discuss.”
“Um. Okay. I’m, uh, still a couple days out. I’ll let you know when I’m in the Daunt. Bye.”
She stares into the middle distance once she ends the call. Why does this plan have to involve getting married at all? Her shout of frustration falls on deaf ears, except for the mountains that echo it back.
Well. She’d better get on with it and go face destiny, or whatever.
—
“Saviour!” the Oseram lift operator, Karhn, calls to Aloy as she rides up and dismounts. “Good timing. Look at this—we haven’t had a sunset like it in weeks.”
He gestures at the valley and its surrounding mountains, which are draped in red, with orange and pink clouds painting ragged brushstrokes across the sky.
It makes her breath catch in her throat. She smiles warmly at the Oseram as she climbs aboard. “Glad I could see it.”
Karhn hums and starts their descent without another word.
Halfway down, Aloy calls Kotallo.
“Aloy,” he says. “Are you near?”
“Just heading into the Daunt now. I think I’ll stay overnight in Chainscrape and then head west at first light.”
“I see. The Chief has set aside private quarters for you in the barracks. Let me know when you arrive, and I’ll show you to them. I will see you soon, Commander.”
It’s not often he uses that title for her anymore, but she finds she doesn’t mind so much when he does. It carries more than just respect these days, but what that ‘more’ is, Aloy can’t quite identify. Whatever it is, she likes it.
—
It’s still dark when Aloy sets out the next morning, the eastern mountains blocking the sun’s ascent for a few more hours yet. The sky at her back turns pink as she reaches Plainsong, and the sun finally rises above the peaks when she reaches the base.
Beta informs her that Alva left for Legacy’s Landfall a few days prior, and Sylens is off doing who knows (or cares) what.
After sharing a meal with her sister, Aloy promises she’ll return as soon as she’s able, and climbs to the peak to override another Sunwing. Finally.
—
The whole Grove is crawling with Tenakth of every Clan, the atmosphere light and jubilant. It looks like an anthill from the air. Aloy makes a lazy descent and hops off at the top of the hill overlooking the old museum.
Sparring soldiers occupy every available space outside, practicing for their time in the grand pit of the Arena. Or perhaps they’re just having a good time—Aloy spots a few open barrels of Oseram make among the impromptu pits. Probably courtesy of Erend, a frequent guest at the Grove from what she’s heard.
One of the guards by the doors spots her and calls to somebody inside, and moments later, Marshal Ivvira appears, striding toward Aloy with a big grin. “The Champion returns! Good to see you, Aloy.”
“Marshal Ivvira,” Aloy greets in return with a warm smile. “Nice to see so many people here when the place isn’t under attack.”
“You can say that again. Come with me—Marshal Kotallo wanted me to bring you to the throne room when you arrived.”
She’d been expecting the other Marshals to be present when she spoke with Hekarro, but only Kotallo is there. He straightens up when he notices them, and Ivvira takes her leave after showing Aloy in.
“Welcome, Aloy,” Hekarro says as he stands.
Kotallo nods to her from his place next to the throne. “Commander,” he says, although this time his voice is full of the soldierly formality Aloy hates, even if she understands the need for it.
She crosses her arms. “So what’s this I hear about marrying a Tenakth?”
The corner of Hekarro’s mouth quirks up. “To the point, as always. I will be meeting with the clan commanders to secure their cooperation, but Marshal Kotallo thought you should know about the plan in advance.”
“Commanders?” Aloy’s eyebrows shoot up. “Aren’t you getting ahead of yourself? I haven’t agreed to marry anybody. Tenakth, Carja, or otherwise.”
“We knew you’d feel that way,” Kotallo says with a grim nod. “We have an alternative plan, a temporary union until Blameless Marad can deal with the Carja nobles. Which is why the Chief requires their agreement.”
Aloy narrows her eyes, not quite following.
“We’ll need the clans to recognize the bond as legitimate,” Hekarro says, “but also to recognize its dissolution when it is no longer needed—a special concession due to the usual nature of these things.”
“‘Usual nature?’” She really wishes the Chief would stop speaking in riddles.
“A blood oath,” Kotallo says. “Unbreakable in the eyes of all Tenakth. The bonding ritual itself will need to be changed.”
Aloy crosses her arms and paces before the two of them. “I… see. What would be expected of me, exactly?”
Hekarro and Kotallo share a glance, and Kotallo says, “There will be no functional change to your dealings with the tribe.”
“And my… partner. How will they be chosen? And wouldn’t they have certain, um, expectations?”
“You need not worry.” Hekarro makes an emphatic gesture as he speaks. “My Marshals and I have already talked it over and have decided on the best choice.”
Aloy hadn’t thought the Chief would be that audacious, but then again, perhaps she should have known better. “Oh you have, have you?”
“Yes,” he says with all the certainty of someone used to having his orders obeyed. “You would still have the right to choose someone else, if you prefer. If you accept.”
A loud cheer from the Arena interrupts Aloy’s thoughts, but not Kotallo’s steady gaze.
She wraps her arms tighter around herself. “Well,” she says. “Don’t keep me in suspense. Who is it?”
Kotallo takes a deep breath and Aloy knows before he speaks what the answer will be. “Should you accept,” he says, “you will be bonded—temporarily—to me.”
The shock of it is still enough to wind her. Aloy blinks. “You,” she says with the last of the breath in her lungs.
“Of my Marshals, you have had the most dealings with Marshal Kotallo,” Hekarro says. “He was the obvious choice.”
Aloy, pinned in place by Kotallo’s scrutiny, swallows thickly. “Right. Of course.”
“You need not decide right away,” Hekarro continues, heedless of the way her heart is doing somersaults in her chest, something unreadable in his expression as he glances between them. “It may take some time to convince… all of the commanders. So, go, enjoy the tournament. Both of you are dismissed.”
Kotallo gestures for the door, saying something about her quarters, but she’s so distracted she barely hears him and just nods silently, following wherever he leads.
The thought of getting married has always filled her with dread—being tied down like that sounds stifling, not to mention the… other things involved. But the thought of marrying Kotallo? Her gut twists in ways she doesn’t recognize. It’s not dread, whatever it is, but that feeling of not knowing is just as terrifying. And she’s not sure which she’d rather feel.
—
Voice Messages > Alva
Aloy: Hey, Alva. It’s me. Um. I stopped by the base on the way out to the Clan Lands, but Beta said you were back in San Francisco. You’re probably busy, so… get back to me when you can? I just need some advice. No rush. Well, maybe a little rush. Talk soon?
—
Flickering shadows accompany Aloy up the stairs to the balcony, where the whole area is aglow with torchlight. She’d napped away the entire afternoon and early evening, apparently.
Obviously it was the travel that had exhausted her, not the new and terrifying weight that’s been placed squarely on her shoulders. Yep. But she’s not going to think about that right now.
Marshal Ivvira catches her eye as soon as she reaches the top and pulls her into the throng of Arena spectators, putting a full stein of ale in her hands.
The night only devolves from there. Food, drink, and a good fight are all it takes to keep the Tenakth happy, and there are all of these in abundance. It’s loud. It’s rambunctious. Everyone’s having fun.
And then there’s Kotallo, tucked away at the far end of the Arena and intently watching her from the growing evening shadows.
He nods when she waves, but stays where he is.
Okay, fine. She’ll go to him then.
His Focus is active, she realizes when she’s halfway through the crowd. Is he… talking to somebody?
“I will speak with you later,” he says to whoever it is, standing up straight (or, straighter than he’d been; his posture is nothing if not impeccable at all times) and offering a tight smile. “Aloy.”
“I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”
“You are not. What can I do for you?”
She tilts her head at him. He’s standing so stiffly and solidly that she probably couldn’t knock him over if she tried. “Is everything alright?”
He nods once, eyes roaming over her face for a brief moment before he meets her gaze again. “Yes.”
Always with the monosyllabic answers when he doesn’t want to be forthcoming. So she waves at the festivities behind her. “You’re not spending time with the others?”
“Not with the clan commanders here tomorrow. It would be unwise to go to bed intoxicated.”
Well, that makes sense. She offers what she hopes doesn’t look like a forced smile in return. “I guess you’ll want your wits about you for that, huh?”
That almost gets another smile out of him—the twitch of the cheek is there, at least. “Indeed. Why give myself a headache when Tekotteh will do a fine enough job of it for me?” he says drily.
Aloy snorts a real laugh, grimacing sympathetically. “At least he’s been behaving himself lately.”
“Mm. More or less.”
His stiffness makes sense now, at least.
“Do you think he’ll agree? To, y’know, the plan?”
“Most likely. Atekka will support Hekarro, and Tekotteh is very susceptible to peer pressure.”
“So I’ve noticed.”
“The real problem will be the Desert Clan commander. If we can secure his cooperation, then I have no doubt Tekotteh will capitulate.”
“Well, if Drakka doesn’t want to cooperate, tell him to come talk to me.”
A storm cloud of an expression passes over Kotallo’s face. “I will hold you to that.”
—
Voice Messages > Alva
Alva: Aloy! Sorry I missed you earlier. I’m not sure what kind of advice I can give, but I’ll be happy to help however I can. What’s on your mind?
Kotallo
“She’s gone to bed,” Kotallo says to Alva once he’s in his own quarters. (It’s still strange, having a space to himself. Ever since he was a bare-armed youth at the Bulwark, he has shared quarters with his squadmates or, following his Kulrut, his fellow Marshals.)
Alva seems unaffected by the non-standard greeting. “Yeah? How did it go? Were you nervous?”
“Of course not,” he scoffs. “There was nothing to be nervous about. It was a perfectly normal interaction. Why would I be nervous?”
On the other end of the call, Alva sighs—long, loud, entirely too exaggerated. “Kotallo, has anyone ever told you you’re a terrible liar?”
“I do not get nervous,” he insists. “I feel only the thrill of battle rushing through my veins. It’s different.”
“Um, right. Sure. Well. I’m on another call, so I have to go, but keep me updated, okay? Good luck on the whole feelings thing.” She hangs up before Kotallo can ask what she means by that.
It’s true that he’d felt some trepidation over Aloy’s response to the plan, but the anticipation is over. Aloy knows the plan now. She hasn’t fled the Grove. Everything is fine.