Chapter Text
Aloy
Aloy was late. Again.
She hadn’t meant to be. But she found a new section in one of the ruins she’d been exploring, and she couldn’t bear to leave without looking, so she’d set an alarm. Which she had promptly snoozed twice before turning it off.
“Do not be upset with me, All-Mother,” she murmured. “Had you not given me the focus, I wouldn’t have found the loose panel to begin with.” Aloy cringed at her tone. “Forgive me, and–and thank you, for the focus.” Aloy reached above her, gripping a small ledge, pulling up with her arms and pushing off the damp floor with her feet. Aloy was thankful. The focus she had found so many years ago exposed her to a world she could never have imagined without it.
Sure, the other villagers thought it was a pretty ornament denoting her rank as a priestess, but Aloy knew it was much more than that. It was her constant companion, a rare thing for her. She did have some friends— Vala, Varl, and Teb—but her focus was her closest compatriot. Vala was a priestess, too, only a year behind Aloy in training and the two young women had grown close over the years. Being a priestess was lonely, though. The Nora revered them in the name of the All-Mother, and many people put her and her ‘sisters’ on lofty pedestals. Even with her small circle, it was lonely sometimes: the circumstances of her birth guaranteed that the Nora would revere her second only to the All-Mother.
It was rare that people saw her for who she was, no matter how often she reminded them: “Just…Aloy.” But she was a priestess, and she had a duty to fulfill to the Ordained, the sisterhood of priestesses Aloy belonged to.
She continued her ascent.
She had exited these ruins many times: she knew every ledge, every foothold; she could probably climb it blindfolded. Aloy stopped for a moment, eyebrows pinched, and muttered to herself, “I could do this blindfolded.” That actually sounded fun, but that challenge would have to wait, for now.
Aloy lifted herself up and over the final ledge, took in a breath of fresh air; she was glad to be in the sunlight again. She whistled, calling her overridden strider. Normally, she preferred to walk the path back to Mother’s Watch, but with the Matriarch’s summons she’d received this morning, the strider was the best choice. She’d still be late, but hopefully not as late as she had been two days ago—and last week when she had forgotten to join the Matriarchs at the first feast of spring.
Lansra would be furious, Jezza annoyed, and Teersa…
She sighed, “Teersa is going to be so disappointed.”
Aloy wasn’t sure which was worse. She tightened the reins, urging the strider to go a bit faster.
The sun had begun to set behind the mountains as Aloy made her way through the settlement to Mother’s Den, the longhouse where the Ordained were stationed. She brought her linen robes over her shoulder and tugged her hood up and over her mane of hair, bowing her head as she entered.
“Holy Mother, You have blessed the sunlight, the wind, and the bounty of grain. We receive the blessing of the Goddess and are thankful,” Aloy whispered as she paused at the base of the shrine to the All-Mother. She lit the incense, the fragrant smoke filling the air, helping to soothe her beating heart.
She resumed her course.
The Matriarchs stood up ahead, joined by Resh, at the end of the den. Aloy’s steps slowed as she raised her right hand and signaled, her hands flicking through the short movements that constituted the greeting ritual of the Ordained.
Resh’s sharp tongue broke the silence. “Priestess! You are late, yet again.” The older man’s lips pinched tightly. “You are about to become anointed as Astarte, and this is how you behave! It’s time to pull your head out of the clouds and serve the All-Mother, as you were born to do. Try as I might—”
Jezza’s outreached hand cut him off.
Aloy looked to Lansra, expectant.
Lansra began. “Aloy, it goes without saying that you have become increasingly neglectful of your duties as of late. You are late to first prayer, you are constantly seen napping in trees, messing with that gadget, and you hunt machines when you ought to be performing your daily rites!” The matriarch gestured outwards, lifting her arms. “You are a gift from All-Mother Mountain herself!”
She paused mid-tirade, sucking in a breath through her nose to calm herself. “We have decided to accept the offer of the Carjan King. He has asked for an Astarte to escort a young maiden to the Forbidden West. She is to be married to the Tenakth Chief. Once you arrive, you will perform the joining and mate rites, and then begin your mission in service to his people.”
Aloy’s chest tightened in a flurry of emotions. Disappointment was front and center; she had let down the Goddess yet again. It didn’t matter how much she tried to serve, she always got lost exploring, learning; it was ingrained into her every fiber. Aloy knew that as much as she had angered the Matriarchs, they were still willing to let her serve, and for that, she felt relief.
Relief that the All-Mother saw fit to find favor in Aloy.
Holy Mother, enshroud me with your wisdom.
Aloy had not yet traveled farther than the Cut or the Sundom. From what she knew, the Tenakth lands were weeks worth of travel from the Embrace, far from the watchful Matriarchs and villagers that placed her on a pedestal. It was far from everything she had known. It felt like freedom. Freedom to be—just be—while in service to the All-Mother. It was a blessing only surpassed by the memory of Rost and the discovery of her focus. Aloy’s heart reeled, it flew.
“Aloy, in three days time you will be anointed as an Astarte and begin your pilgrimage west. Begin your travel rites.” With that, Lansra dismissed the group, leaving the long house, followed by the remaining elders, only Teersa remained behind.
“Do an old mother a favor and share your words for a while.”
“Of course, Matriarch,” Aloy offered her elbow and led her from the enclosure.
“Tell me what you found today.”
“Found? Teersa…I am not sure what you mean, I–,” Aloy’s face flushed as Teersa cut her a kind, yet knowing smile.
“My dear child, you may have all of the grace and training of a priestess, but I see the far away look in your eyes. Some new discovery was unlaid before you today. That, and you have brambleberry stems in your hair, and you smell like machine oil and dirt.” Teersa’s kind nature continued to enamor Aloy.
Teersa had always been the only matriarch to truly understand her, to see her as a person. Aloy’s birth right had given her high status among the Nora, but her frequent lack of propriety had won her many scoldings from the elders and their ire. At times, it had been Teersa that reprimanded her, but it always came from a point of understanding, unlike the others. Aloy couldn’t help but wonder what Teersa had been like in her youth.
“I came across a path I hadn’t seen before, Teersa. There wasn’t much inside, but…but finding it, it was worth the look on Lansra’s face,” Aloy confessed.
“That I cannot deny.” The older woman chuckled as they walked in silence for the rest of their short journey. Their pace slowed as they neared Mother’s Crown. Teersa stopped and placed her hands on Aloy's shoulders. “Priestess, I know it hasn’t always been easy for you. The isolation that comes with being among the Ordained is a hard thing to withstand, and losing Rost just a few seasons ago, I can only imagine how you must feel.” Teersa dropped her hands, and turned to face the settlement. Aloy mirrored her actions.
Teersa continued, “Only the All-Mother knows what’s to come, but the glint in your eyes tells me that you will find your way.“ She raised a hand in blessing before leaving.
Aloy let out a sigh as a soft smile graced her lips. She wasn’t incredibly knowledgeable about the west, it wasn’t named forbidden for nothing. But there was freedom in the unknown; a calling she couldn’t deny. Though, she was saddened to leave her friends and the place that had given her life, that had raised her. It wasn’t exactly home, but it was what she knew.
Leaves crunched under foot as she returned to her dwelling with the other priestesses of the Ordained. She had many preparations to make before leaving.
Kotallo
“Chaplain, Marshals,” Hekarro greeted, looking around the throne room. “Thank you for joining me. It is a rare occasion that we all meet together.”
Kotallo and his fellow Marshals stood in a loose formation, except for Javveh and Dekka, who flanked Hekaaro in front of the throne. It was rare indeed that all of their unit were together in one place. Ceremonies and politics allowed it to happen occasionally, but their responsibilities and daily duties had them traveling throughout the clan lands. The Marshals usually worked in small groups, pairs, or, frequently, by themselves. Javveh’s position and status as High Marshal required his presence in the Grove in service to the chief and overseer of the rest of the marshals. With Dekka’s council, the High Marshal worked under Hekarro to assign duties and assignments.
When Kotallo was informed of the plans for a full gathering, he had to remind himself to act accordingly instead of asking the litany of questions that came to mind. Javveh had his reasons for remaining tight-lipped. Kotallo was admittedly the youngest and newest Marshal, but with four years of service under his belt, he knew his place was to be patient.
Understanding will come in time.
Kotallo was sure the other Marshals were just as curious.
“I have news to share and a request. We shall be brief and succinct. I have asked Dehsevi for her hand in marriage, which may come as no surprise based on my actions of late.”
Months ago, Hekarro endeavored to claim peace for his people and sought out negotiations in earnest with the Sun King, Avad. Navigating the tenuous meetings and delegations was draining for the Chief until he met Dehsevi. Kotallo had only met her once, at the first embassy two years prior. Over time, Dehsevi had stolen Hekarro’s heart and found favor with the Tenakth.
Fashav made a small motion, grabbing Kotallo’s attention. The Carjan marshal raised his eyebrows in a gesture that screamed “I told you so.” With a small shake of his head, Kotallo returned his focus to the chief, recognizing the significance of this moment. Hekarro had been hesitant to pursue romantic relationships in the past; he wanted peace for his people, and to the Chief, that meant personal sacrifice. It seemed, to Kotallo at least, that the Ten had a hand in this pairing, as Dehsevi was Carja and Hekarro had not been moved to pledge himself with someone from his own tribe.
Sentilla was the first to raise her voice in cheer, and the others quickly followed suit, saluting and congratulating their chief, Kotallo included. Before they could get too carried away, Dekka motioned for their attention once more and Hekarro continued on.
“Marshals, I am full of the pride of the Ten. The past years have brought us many hardships. It is with this marriage that I hope to continue to bring peace to our lands. Your acceptance of Dehsevi blesses our union far greater than I could ever imagine.” Hekarro took a moment to look at each of his Marshals before returning their salute.
“As part of the peace treaty, Dehsevi will be accompanied by a Nora Priestess.” The chief paused briefly, letting his statement settle over the group. Accepting anyone of Carjan descent was still a rather tenuous undertaking as the Tenakth were extremely guarded against outlanders. They were frequently pushing Oseram out of their lands and guarding their borders from various interlopers. The Nora were famously secretive and rarely traveled beyond their borders. They were also rumored to be a tribe of savage barbarians led by a small group of witches. “The priestesses are a highly coveted novelty amongst the Carja, especially the nobility. As such, it is expected that Dehsevi and I participate in a few of their joining rites.”
“Nora witchcraft.” Again, Sentilla was the first to speak, her tongue sharp as a spear in stark contrast to her cheers just moments before. Kotallo tilted his head slightly, looking in her direction, as did the others. “Chief, are you certain that is—?”
“Watch your tone, Marshal. Your words border on insubordination.” Javveh’s warning stare left no room for argument.
Sentilla lowered her head in acquiescence as Hekarro spoke once more. “I understand your apprehension, but we must let cooler heads prevail. The Nora Ordained are valued by our neighboring tribes; in time, we may find use of their mystical ways. Dehsevi and I will take part in the rites, and I must call upon one of you to aid me in this request. One such ritual requires a male participant.”
Without hesitation the male marshals stepped forward, arms in salute, Kotallo among them. He had no idea what the Nora rite called for, but he would offer himself in duty to his Chief. It seemed Fashav, Zekotto, and Chekkotah quickly came to the same conclusion. They did not need the exact details, as they had all pledged themselves to Hekarro.
Dekka was the next to speak. “Your duty is honorable, Marshals, and commendable. The rite our Chief mentions is a fertility ritual, performed with a priestess.” Her eyes traveled over the faces of the men before her. If her gaze lingered on Kotallo longer than the others, no one acknowledged it. “We have been advised that he should be unpledged and free from obligations of the heart.” Her gaze fell to Chekkotah, whose heart belonged to Ikkotah.
Understanding her words, he stepped back.
Kotallo felt the eyes of his tribesmen on him, and he hated it. He had offered himself before knowing the full details, and now, with clearer understanding, he knew he’d still volunteer. It mattered not that he was less of a man than he used to be; by the grace of the Ten, he’d fought almost a full turn of seasons to earn back the respect he’d lost from the tribe when he lost his arm to the bristleback.
Early on, before the stitches had healed, he’d been a shell of a man. Hurting, in pain. Most of his days were filled with anger and a deep sadness he could not fathom to describe. How had the Ten forsaken him? Had they deemed him unworthy?
His arm throbbed slightly as his thoughts drifted.
Kotallo had lost more than his arm and dignity; he’d lost the easy confidence he once possessed. He’d never been overly gregarious, but now, anyone would be lucky to draw him in conversation, unless they were Fashav or another Marshal, but even then, his words were brief, stunted.
He hadn’t sought a partner after the bristleback, even at Fashav’s insistence. Kotallo was not blind to the looks from women and men alike. He may have clawed back some modicum of respect from the people he served, but he’d be a fool to think anyone would lower themselves to take him to bed.
Still, nothing changed.
He knew what the others must be thinking, and it burned him, but he’d weather it, just as he was accustomed. Kotallo was offering himself to his Chief; there was nothing of personal gain for him. If the Chief deemed Zekotto or Fashav a better match, then so be it. He was still, waiting for Hekarro to speak.
Instead, it seemed Hekarro was in no rush. Kotallo fought the urge to stalk out and leave the others, no doubt pitying him and this predicament.
“Marshals, you are dismissed. I look forward to taking the evening meal with you this night.”
Kotallo ignored Fashav, choosing to remain firm in front of his chief. As the others vacated the throne room, Hekarro motioned for the stoic Marshal to follow.
The two walked towards the parapet overlooking the arena, where a few squads were training.
A small bird landed a few feet away on the end of a spike, pecking for grubs before taking flight again. Hekarro watched the animal as he spoke. “Marshal Kotallo, I cannot claim to understand the trials you have faced. I can only offer that I am honored by your willingness to participate in the ritual for Dehsevi and I. I never thought it would be possible to see myself pledged to another after all these years of strife amongst our people. Admittedly, I also never imagined that I would desire to have children, even with Regalla.”
Kotallo considered his words carefully, surprised at the mention of the former Marshal’s name. Regalla and Hekarro’s history was no secret amongst the clan. Her name was rarely mentioned anymore, almost as if it were taboo. “I am likewise honored to be considered for such a task, my Chief.” And he was. Regardless of the details and requirements of the rites. He would do whatever was in his power to aid the Chief.
“Dekka will meet with you soon to discuss specifics, but I will be frank: the exact details of what is required of you will have to wait until the Priestess arrives with Dehsevi and her escorts.”
Dismissed, Kotallo bowed. “By your command.”
It was still hours yet until the evening meal and Kotallo longed for solitude. He knew Fashav would be eager to discuss today’s meeting, but he wasn’t ready to answer his friend, not yet. Free of any duties for the remainder of the day, he made his way to a stalker site south of the grove. Hunting machines was the easiest way to quiet the thrall of emotions crashing over him.