Chapter Text
It had been months since the Battle of the Alight. Months since that fateful day when the red-haired huntress Aloy had saved all of Meridian by thwarting the artificial intelligence HADES in its attempt to extinguish all life on Earth. The Sun-King Avad had hoped to spend some time with the saviour of the citadel at the victory celebration, but the Nora Seeker had disappeared without so much as a goodbye. He should have realised that she would have other priorities.
From the moment he had first met her it was clear she was no ordinary woman. She was single-minded, selfless, unafraid, and fierce in her defence of those unable to defend themselves. These were qualities that the Oseram warrior Ersa, Erend’s sister, had also possessed, but their mutual appreciation was never able to progress further than a few stolen kisses behind the palace walls. And he had never yearned for her the way he yearned for Aloy.
He had discovered through talking to her friend Varl, the imposing Nora warrior who had come to assist her in the final battle, that her tribe had rejected her because of the unusual circumstances of her birth, but to know that she had been created by machines to defeat machines only made Aloy seem more to Avad like the goddess the Nora worshipped (though she would have hated the comparison). The world of the Old Ones was a mystery he hoped to uncover, with Aloy’s help. He had many burning questions he wished to ask her – if she ever came this way again.
He had made more than one attempt to get her to stay in the Citadel, even offered her a position at his side, only to be politely rebuffed and reminded that the situation called for a higher perspective. He, the Sun-King, the fourteenth Luminance of the Radiant Line, should have been the one calling for a higher perspective. It was humbling to be disabused of his foolish notions by a young Nora woman incredibly wise beyond her years. He should not have suggested it, and yet there was something about her that, when in her presence, almost made him forget his station. Perhaps it was the way she treated him, as Avad the man, rather than Carja nobility, that was refreshing. She certainly never used his title.
He stared up at the statue of the huntress in front of the ruined palace and sighed. Aloy would probably hate this too, even though he had refused to bow to pressure from the nobles and instructed the sculptor to create a smaller, much plainer statue than the one they originally commissioned. It was a perfect likeness, and yet it could not capture her fire, intelligence and compassion. He turned away sadly. It was too painful to look at this constant reminder of the woman his heart longed for but was likely to never possess.
Since his twenty-first year, he had been under pressure from Blameless Marad, his chief advisor and spymaster, and the rest of the Court to take a Sun-Queen. Over the years, many noble women had come to the palace, hoping for a favour, often hoping for more than that, but so far he had resisted their charms. Sometimes, and under protest, he had spent time with a few of them, even wined and dined them, but they seemed to always spend the occasion trying to please him, rather than actually listening to him.
And then Aloy appeared and in an instant everything he thought he knew about women was turned upside down. She was a firebrand lighting up the dark, the scent of lavender coming to him across a cool breeze in a world filled with machine oil and dust. Every moment he spent in her presence was like being struck by a bolt from a Stormbird. Or at least, so he imagined, seeing as the closest he’d come to encountering such a machine was when the renegade Oseram Dervahl had summoned Glinthawks to fight Aloy, after a desperate but ill-fated attempt to both blow up Meridan and assassinate the Sun-King. Dervahl had had to rely on Glinthawks to fight his battles – and even then, had failed miserably.
Aloy had defended him then, saved his life – and later, saved them all from HADES, then disappeared without a trace, as though she couldn’t bear to spend another moment in his company. And he was stuck in Meridian, like always, acquiescent as the world went on around him, hampered by the shackles of his status. Was he foolish to entertain the idea of being out there in the wilds, roaming the land like her, maybe even with her, unburdened by royal duties and formalities? He longed for the day when his half-brother Itamen could take over the throne and release him from all responsibilities. But Itamen was still a boy, and that day was many suns away.
His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by Marad running towards him, clouds of dust fanning out in his wake.
‘Your Luminance,’ Marad gasped, ‘the Saviour has been sighted approaching the Citadel!’
Avad felt a hard knot in his stomach. He was at once thrilled and petrified at the thought of seeing Aloy again. He licked dry lips and finally spoke. ‘I must prepare. Organise my retinue,’ he ordered, then, ‘Wait – don’t bother – there isn’t time,’ as Marad moved away. ‘A simple bath will suffice.’
‘As you wish, Sire,’ Marad nodded, allowing himself a brief smile at the Sun-King’s reaction. So, he was still holding a torch for the flamed-haired huntress. He should have known that that fire would not easily dampen.
Avad barely had time for the briefest of baths before he found himself in the courtyard, standing only metres away from the saviour of Meridian. He was slightly disappointed when she didn’t approach him first, but instead walked over to talk to Nasadi and Itamen. He couldn’t help but stare at her as she laughed and smiled at Itamen’s conversation. Oh, how he envied his half-brother, so at ease in her company.
He wanted to know where she had been, wanted to know how she had got every bruise and scrape on her body. He wanted to know her most intimate thoughts. But instead he found himself smiling politely, his hands clutched awkwardly in front of him in ridiculous formality. His palms felt large and spongy, and his heart thumped uncomfortably in his ribcage. It would have helped had duty not compelled him to wear the unwieldy garb that was expected of him in such a situation.
By the sun, Aloy was every bit as beautiful as she had been the last time he had seen her. Her skin had browned from endless days outdoors, and he noticed with a stab of desire that there was an explosion of freckles across her nose and shoulders. But one of the most attractive things about her was that she never seemed to realise just how beautiful she was. She could have taught many of the Carja women he had met a thing or two about hubris.
He was so absorbed in his thoughts he quite forgot himself, until Aloy’s polite cough indicated that she finally demanded his presence.
‘Aloy! It’s so good to see you,’ he gushed, inwardly admonishing himself for being unable to contain his enthusiasm. He felt a bead of sweat form on his brow, and resisted the urge to wipe it away. He hoped she wouldn’t notice his discomfort. But Aloy looked as warm and weary as he felt, too, which reassured him somewhat. Perhaps if he tended to her needs, and gave her a place to rest, she might grace him with her company. It was all he could hope for.