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Ghost of the Ten Horizon: Forbidden West Hekarro x Fem! Old One OC Action/Adventure/Romance/Hurt/Comfort Chapter 10

Part 2: Ghost of the Ten

“Kindness begins with understanding we all struggle.” - Charles Glassman ~~

Time passed as Hekarro endured Victoria's tears in silent vigil until she was consumed by a desolate stillness. Her body curled up into the corner, as if she could hide away from the world. Pity was something he could not bear to give, and he knew words would be utterly useless. Hollow sentiments that could never begin to comprehend the immensity of her loss; no matter how much he had suffered himself.

"Am I going to have to go back?" She asked eventually, voice hoarse from her tears.

"You've only just woken up," He said, shifting uncomfortably on the floor, "You need more rest."

"And that has nothing to do with the fact that you're trying to keep me a secret?"

He was taken aback by the abruptness of her question, its razor-edge cutting through him. Once again, she exuded a palpable agitation that rippled through her words. His breath quickened as he found himself captivated by her sharp tongue; for better or worse, she refused to mince what she thought or wanted to say. And for him, it was both thrilling and refreshing to face such brazenness in another.

In any case, his stunned silence only seemed to spark her amusement, and Victoria eventually scoffed at him, "Why all the secrecy?"

"You come from a forgotten age, Victoria. An age shrouded in myths and legends - deified by many. And as far as I know: you are the only Old One that's ever been found alive."

"So I'm a danger to you?"

Hekarro sighed and threaded a hand through his hair, "I don't know yet." He answered honestly, "But I cannot deny that your presence poses unique problems to me."

"What do you mean by that?"

"You claim that Anne Faraday was your mother, yes?"

The change in her demeanor was instantaneous; a dark cloud settled over her figure, and he could hear the ugly sneer in her voice when she spoke, "Unfortunately."

He wasn't a fool. Hekarro had been born a Lowlander, reared in an environment that taught him to read the slightest tremble in the air, to stalk the shadows with a practiced silence and ease. To sense the animosity of a predator with her hackles raised. Anne was clearly a sensitive topic; one careless misstep on his part, and Victoria would be at his throat.

"Your--" He hesitated, glancing at Victoria as he searched for the right words to say. "Anne Faraday is part of a memorial. Something that is deeply embedded in the culture and history of my people."

"So me being her kid." she whispered, "does that make me a threat to you?"

The tension in her words was palpable; she sounded fearful, angry and alone. Though he could not see her face in the dark, he could still feel her glare stinging his skin. Had he been someone else, he may have lied to appease her. But it was not his nature.

"As I said, I don't know yet." He replied after a moment of silence. "I don't believe in judging a person until they give me reasons to do so."

Then, she began to laugh. It was lacerating, a cacophony of uncontrolled fury and disbelief.

"This is fucking insane!" She spat through gritted teeth, her head still bowed in shock. "A thousand years in cryostasis? This isn't some sort of sci-fi story; It's real life! You seriously expect me to just accept this?!"

Hekarro could only bear her wrath in painful silence. When he didn't reply, she screamed, desperate and furious

"Answer me!"

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, feeling his exhaustion finally catch up to him. "I refuse to pretend I understand what you're going through," he began quietly. "Nobody can. So no, I don't expect you to trust me blindly. To be honest, that would be foolish of you."

An oppressive quiet hung between them, and he found himself pausing on the brink of uncertainty. He was still not sure what to do with her when she punctured that silence with one simple, single demand:

"Everything that you're telling me?" Victoria demanded, her voice hard. "Prove it. I want to see it for myself right now."

Hekarro chuckled in response. He could hear the angry intake of breath through her teeth, but he shook his head. "No, you need more time to--"

"I don't care," she said, cutting him off sharply. "You want me to believe you, you have to show me."

"And how do you expect me to do that? You can barely see as it is. If there is something that I can give you that would convince you of my truthfulness, then tell me, and I will provide it should it be within my power to do so.”

All she could muster in response was an angry snarl. He held his tongue, waiting for the fire inside her to burn out. Eventually, all that was left between them was a low hum—an uncomfortable gap of nothingness that seemed to grow the longer they stayed in resentful silence.

He was adrift, his heart sinking as he watched Victoria struggle; not knowing if his comfort was wanted or needed, but feeling helplessly pained at her callousness. He knew why she lashed out: the world was becoming too much for her to bear, and she was desperate to feel in control of something - even if it was her own temper.

"You gonna drag me back now?" She asked softly, the anger palpable in her tone.

Hekarro shook his head and said, "I am not a monster, Victoria. You can stay here for as long as it takes. When you're ready, we'll go back together."

"And if I don't want to go back there?"

He started to wonder if she was being difficult just to spite him until he heard her mutter.

"It's too quiet…and too dark."

Hekarro stood up slowly with a deep breath and turned his back to the machine pen.

"Stay right here," he said, "I'll see what I can do."

Victoria responded with a dismissive grunt. He made his way up the steep, sandy rise of the passage. As he emerged from the darkness into the light of early morning, a brisk breeze brushed against his face, and it was only then that he realized how much time had passed during their conversation. His eyes caught sight of an orange-pink hue that spread across the horizon, slowly banishing the stars until only traces of them remained.

"Chief Hekarro?"

He spun around to find Dekka striding towards him across the arena floor, her face a mask of determination. Following close behind were Aloy, Beta, and Kotallo, brows furrowed with worry as they marched closer. All of which he calmed with a simple, placating gesture, slowing their approach.

"I found her." He declared, cutting short their panicked inquires. “She'll cooperate if we don't take her back to her previous room. Dekka?”

His chaplain considered aloud, “The barracks are far too crowded. If we cordoned off a section, it' would cause a fuss. We need something more private for our guest if we want to keep her secret a bit longer.”

“Do the Marshals have personal chambers here?” Aloy questioned Kotallo, who shrugged back.

“Yes, though there aren't any particular assignments for them. A careless Marshal may enter and find out our secret if we don't stay vigilant.” Hekarro observed a frustrated look spread across his face as he clenched his fist, “Do we really need to do this? Keeping an eye on her is easier when there's only one way in and out."

Beta twisted the corner of her mouth and dipped her chin down in a hesitant nod. "It's not critical," she murmured softly, "but it's important to keep her mental health in mind too. She's already struggling with so much; we shouldn't add more weight by forcing her into something that makes her feel uncomfortable. Plus, she'll likely recover faster if she's in an environment she feels safe in."

"We also want her to cooperate with us, Marshal Kotallo." Hekarro chastised him gently.

"What if," Beta posed, glancing at him cautiously, "she remains in your room? Respectfully, of course, Chief Hekarro."

"It's not a terrible compromise," Dekka added, "It's quiet, out of the way, and we don't run the risk of someone barging in without good reason."

The suggestion surprised him, but the logic was sound enough that he couldn't disagree.

"Very well," He answered, shooting a look to his Chaplain and Marshal, "Make sure the walls and the rear corridors are clear. I'm going to take the Old One into my chambers myself."

Both nodded, and scattered to their tasks. Aloy nudged Beta's arm, flashing her a smile: "Come on, let's get the medicine and the equipment moved."

Hekarro clenched his teeth, fighting off a laugh as he watched the sisters disappear into the depths of the facility. He turned with purpose on his heel and descended back into the pens. Victoria was right where he'd left her, her silhouette etched against the far wall of the empty pen. He treaded carefully forward until he was beside her, and he felt her stare burn into him as he knelt by her side.

"It's time to go." He said softly, reaching his hand towards her. She flinched,

"Where are you taking me?"

"You wanted new quarters, yes?"

The shadows around her face tightened as if she were glaring at him, weighing the risk of trusting his outstretched hand. Hekarro held his breath, every second felt like a lifetime until she finally reached out to grasp his hand with trembling fingers. With care he guided her up, but she was completely unable to support her own weight and nearly collapsed in his arms.

He didn't hesitate; one arm came under hers and scooped her off the ground. Victoria gasped in shock, and Hekarro flinched as he felt her nails bite into his skin, both hands desperate for something stable in the black void.

"Easy," He whispered gently. It took her a moment to calm even as she stayed tense in his arms, "Time is of the essence if you want a better place to stay. With your eyesight the way it is now, you wouldn’t be able to move quickly enough."

"Well, maybe give me some warning before you decide to grab me off the ground next time."

Hekarro snorted out a chuckle at the bite of her sarcasm, a grin twisting his mouth as he glanced down at her, "Consider it a lesson learned, then." He rumbled as he readjusted Victoria's weight and started back up the passageway.

When they reached the end of the corridor, Hekarro stopped in the shadow of the threshold, scanning the walls for any sign of life. His gaze was drawn away by movement from his peripheral, and he saw Dekka waving urgently above them on the overlook. Without hesitation, Hekarro sprinted across the arena floor, leaping up the ramp towards the rear corridors. Kotallo was waiting for him by his room. The look of worry on his face softened as soon as Hekarro arrived, and Kotallo hastily pulled back the curtain to allow him to slip inside.

The second Hekarro was inside of his room, he felt relief from the tension in his shoulders. His space was significantly larger than the other living quarters in the grove. On one wall, a bed was placed in between two crumbling stone walls and a broken ceiling—the only protection from the weather outside. Separately, on the opposite side, there was a desk full of tools, paints, parchment, and other materials set out in a disorderly fashion.

Gently, Hekarro placed Victoria onto the large bed. Immediately, she pulled away from him and scooted towards the wall, nervously glancing around the room while keeping one eye on him.

"Where am I?"

"The Grove Interior," Hekarro answered, proceeding to his desk. He dismissed his paints and tools and grabbed his bracers from their resting place, carefully tying them around his arms. "To be exact, it's my room. It's calm and less of a chance for someone to bother you."

"Discover me, more like." She muttered. "Just another prison."

"Be that as it may," he said with a shake of his head, "It's this or returning you to the underground. Which do you prefer?"

Given her limited choices, Victoria clamped her mouth shut and let out a grumble of defeat. He took a moment to glance up at her, noting her unease.

"I am sorry about this." He said softly, letting out a sigh. "Until I figure out what to do, both with you and how to…explain you to my people, this is the best I can offer you. For tonight, and however long this situation lasts, you can have the bed and I'll make do on the floor."

Victoria just crossed her arms and shifted her gaze away in a gesture of refusal, her jaw flexing as if she wanted to speak. Whatever it was that she wanted to say, however, it died on her lips once Beta and Aloy entered the room carrying bundles of medicine and kits. They gave him a faint smile before immediately starting to work around Victoria, despite her obvious unhappiness.

Realizing that further conversation was pointless, Hekarro swiftly donned his gear and departed, leaving the sisters to their duties. He found Kotallo waiting for him on the other side, pacing along the opposite wall.

"Relax, Marshal Kotallo." Hekarro urged him, but Kotallo refused to be swayed.

"Have you decided what to do with the Old One?"

He bit his lip, trying to suppress an exasperated sigh. Again and again he was asked the same query: what to do with the Old One? Could she stay, or should they send her away? How would he explain all this to the rest of his people? He detested not having the answers required, especially when it was obvious that his people were anticipating solutions from him.

"Not yet," Hekarro answered evenly, "and I doubt I'll have that answer anytime soon."

"The guards are asking questions," Kotallo said with a frown, "Marshal Ivvira cornered me last night and accused me of withholding information from the tribe. She wants to know what's so important about the underground that I'm keeping it secret. I don't enjoy lying to her."

"Then the next time Marshal Ivvira demands answers from you," Hekarro suggested sternly, "I recommend that you encourage her to come to me directly with any concerns she may have."

The weight of responsibility pressed down on him. Every time he thought the situation couldn't get any worse, it did. One issue after another without respite. He reminded himself that this was the cost of being a leader—something he took on when he brought the tribes together.

"Do you require anything from me, My Chief?" Kotallo's voice cut through his reverie, and Hekarro shook his head.

"No. You are dismissed until further notice. Thank you."

Hekarro followed Kotallo with his eyes until the other man's figure was no longer visible around the corner. From the rear corridors, he moved to the overlook, gazing down at the arena below, as the sun rose in a brilliant display of orange light. Its rays spilled over the eastern spires and battlements, casting long shadows across the sand.

A feeling of overwhelming fatigue and uncertainty enveloped him, a wave of emotion threatening to drag him down like the tumultuous waters of a stormy sea. He had to make a decision about Victoria and inform his people, but he was at a loss as to where to even start.

Would the Tenakth accept that Victoria was an Old One, who had slept through her people's downfall? Would they venerate her when it became known who her mother was, or would they call her a heretic and drive her away? These questions were assuming, of course, that she wanted to stay in the Grove in the first place.

A cacophony of noises from within the Maw broke through Hekarro's trance like a thunderclap. He frowned, furrowed his brow as he strained to make out what was happening. The conversation seemed to escalate until it erupted into a ferocious argument, the voices reaching ear-splitting levels that shattered the eerie silence of the early morning. Suddenly, the distinct sound of weapons clashing with one another echoed off the walls and sent Hekarro sprinting down from the Overlook in haste.

Hekarro arrived to find the mess hall in complete chaos. Screaming and arguing filled the air as he paused just outside the entrance.

"That's enough!" Dekka shouted, and gradually the noise began to subside into a discontented grumble.

“Spark and steel!” Petra's voice rang out like thunder, reverberating through the mess hall. Hekarro knew her to be loud, but this? The irritation in her voice was as clear as the sky above him. “I leave you boltheads alone for five spark-blasted minutes, and you go pickin' fights? Are you two outta your minds?!"

"They are our guests; you disgrace your tribe with your abhorrent behavior!" Dekka scolded coldly.

A thunderous clatter of furious dissent reverberated through the chamber as he entered. Instantly, the uproar was smothered in a blanket of stillness, his sheer presence paralyzing all present. He noted the splintered furniture and broken glass, the two boys firmly in Petra's vice-like grip, and Dekka at the helm of his unruly guards, both whose fists were clenched in anticipation. He remembered them from yesterday—the same ones who had cluttered around the wall, watching the Oseram with suspicion.

Hekarro strode quietly, each step careful and precise, to the center of the room. He looked at the guards, both of whom refused to make eye contact with him. Then to the Oseram, their own gazes transfixed upon their feet.

"To my Throne Room," He said quietly, with a deadly undertone to his command. "Now."

There was no argument. The only sound was the dull thud of feet on the old stone floor as they trailed behind him in heavy silence. Hekarro paused once upon his throne, glowering at them each in turn. No one made a sound; no one dared to speak up. When the silence stretched on, Hekarro muttered irritably under his breath.

He loathed disciplinary hearings.

He understood that they were a necessity, born of the need to keep order. After all, any disobedience could lead to disarray, and far too much violence already existed in the world without petty infighting worsening it. He studied each of the transgressors, their gazes lowered so as not to meet his.

"Twenty years," he mused quietly, his eyes flickering to the mural on the floor. "For twenty years, I have labored to secure unity among my people and guide them on a path of peace and prosperity. Not only for the Tenakth, but also for other tribes. And yet, this morning I woke to find out that all these efforts were nearly all in vain because of a dispute. Over what, exactly?"

Petra firmly nudged one of her workers in the shoulder when no one responded to him. The boy muttered under his breath, swallowed hard, and shook his head. "We were just sitting here having our meals and getting ready for the day, and these guys start shouting at us--"

"You lie!" growled one of the Tenakth. "Our Chief has been gracious enough to let you stay here, yet you make a mockery of our sacred grounds and talk about taking trinkets back home to share with your friends?!"

"Sod off! Don't you know a joke when you hear one?"

"That's enough!" Hekarro commanded. He glared at each of the guards and waved his head in disapproval. "Any issues should have been brought to a Marshal, Chaplain, or me. You do not have the authority to take actions against those I've declared as my guests."

He looked sternly at the Oseram and said, "And you!" They quivered, yet stayed put when their Forgewoman admonished them: "I offer you the chance to be a part of my Grove; I give you jobs; I provide you shards to send back for your families' sake; and this is how you repay me? By scorning and belittling my home? Our Arena isn't something for you to dismantle and display."

Hekarro's face darkened as he looked at the two guards. "You should both be stripped of your ranks and sent back to your tribes in disgrace," he spat. He then turned his glare to the Oseram, declaring coldly, "And all of you should be thrown from my lands. Let your Forgewoman and nature deal with you!".

His booming voice resounded along the ancient walls, causing everyone from the Dekka to the Oseram to jump in surprise. Hekarro didn’t usually shout, but he had no patience for their arguments. He huffed and hunched over onto his knees, "I suggest you all be grateful that I am in a somewhat merciful mood today. Your punishment is trench duty; perhaps some sweat and filth will help you learn to get along better. Dismissed."

He watched as the members of Petra's crew and the guard all filed out of the room, save for Petra herself, who lagged behind. With her hands on her hips, she turned to face him, and he saw the determination in her eyes.

Look, Chief,” she began, her voice low enough so that it wouldn't carry to the rest of the group. "I’m a proud woman, but I know when I owe someone gratitude. You had every right to kick us out on our asses, but you didn’t, and I can’t thank you enough for giving me and my boys a second chance.”

Hekarro's head shook slowly. "My people are no less culpable than yours. It would reflect badly on me if I did not make everyone responsible for their misconduct." He stared sternly at Petra, who returned his gaze without wavering, “This will not happen again.”

“Believe me,” she promised darkly, “It won’t.”

After Petra gave a short bow, she left the Grove through the broken arches. Hekarro closed his eyes for a moment. She was correct in some respects; he could have easily thrown her and her men out, but he could not deny that he needed her help. Even though he had already paid her a generous amount for her services, there was no replacement for her expertise in repairing and strengthening the arena. He likened this agreement to a duel, where each move had to be accurate and prompt. One misstep, one slip-up, and he would lose it all.

Hekarro's exhaustion came back with a vengeance, and the beginnings of a headache started to form in the base of his skull. He sighed and massaged his temples. Dekka would tell him to lay down and rest; after what happened the previous day, along with his lack of sleep, he wanted nothing more than to do just that. However, his bed was now occupied by an ornery Old One and Hekarro had no interest in spending his day as well as the long night sleeping on the floor.

And so he reluctantly set aside his uncertain thoughts, exchanging his unease for productivity. The morning and afternoon dragged on with frustrating slowness, though there was nothing he could do to speed them along. It seemed like no matter what he undertook, there were always more tasks that needed tending to and additional worries brought to his attention—a seemingly infinite spiral of trials and tribulations whose burden was becoming too much to carry. His headache had yet to dissipate by the time dusk arrived, the clamor of the day retreating into the gentle murmur of the wind through the jungle.

He savored the evening for its serenity, allowing it to relieve some of his burdens. He drifted through the tranquil corridors of the Grove, gradually progressing from room to room. He was comforted by the knowledge that everything he had sacrificed and worked for would be worth it. For certain, Aloy had warned of an approaching tempest, but no one was certain when it would hit. The only thing they could do was prepare for whatever might come.

Hekarro raised a hand to his opposite shoulder and sighed; the dirt and sweat did nothing to soothe the twinges in his muscles, nor did the humidity, even as it decreased with the descent of the sun. He drifted towards the inner ramparts of the arena, nodding at a few Nightwatch on his way down into the baths. The baths themselves were situated beneath the northern outer wall; he couldn’t be sure what the old sequence of chambers had been prior to that since they were partly inundated when initially found.

The warm air welcomed him to the small vestibule of the bathhouse. A light haze of mist floated on the ground, undisturbed, until he walked into an adjacent stall and perched on a stool. He carefully removed his gear and arranged it into a neat bundle in the corner before retrieving a cloth to moisten it. Everyone followed the same custom in the bathhouse: erase the Tenakth paintings from their skin. Machine blood was heat-expedient and sweat-resistant, but poisonous for the water. Even their powder pigments could sully it, so scrubbing it off beforehand was preferable before indulging in the baths.

Hekarro stepped into the main room of the bathhouse, his bare skin still dripping with water. The chamber was empty save for one person; an older woman clad in traditional armor sat on a wooden stool behind a stone basin. She looked up at him and nodded before returning to her task of silently crafting sea salt soapstones. Mirella, the overseer, didn't speak often, but Hekarro always felt a certain sense of ease in her presence. Without uttering a word, she handed him a soapstone as he passed by.

He slid into the pool, letting the warm, mineral-rich water wash over him. The red brick walls curved around in an almost perfect circle, reaching up to form a domed ceiling of tightly-fitted stonework that prevented the water from spilling out into the room. At the center of the curve glowed a large metal cauldron heated by a roaring fire, with glowing embers burning beneath it and sending off waves of heat. He could feel it even from where he sat, and he knew one accidental brush would guarantee raw and blistering pain.

Tonight was surprisingly peaceful, which Hekarro welcomed with a deep sigh of relief. It seemed to be inviting him in—an offer that was hard for him to resist. Hekarro wanted to lose himself in the warmth of the water and forget about his worries for a few precious moments. He closed his eyes and let the gentle dripping from the ceiling wash over him, listening to the low hum of the bubbling cauldron that lulled him into a relaxed daze. However, just as he started to drift away into the ether between sleep and wakefulness, something pulled him back, and he awoke with a rather unattractive snort.

Mirella released her grip on Hekarro's shoulder and furrowed her brows. “I apologize, Chief Hekarro," she said, "but if you are exhausted, find someplace more suitable to rest than the baths.”

Hekarro chuckled, “Understood, Overseer.”

Once she was content that he wouldn’t drift off again, Mirella resumed her tasks, the gentle brush of her broom joining the pleasant humming of the baths. Hekarro finished shortly after, partially clothed in his armor, his skin dewy with water, and his hair damp on his back. He ran a hand through the lengthy black locks and frowned at the habitual tug of the tangles he found.

The night had completely enshrouded the Grove by the time he exited the underground, and the gentle glimmer of torches guided him back to his chambers. He tiptoed through the threshold as he gently tugged at the curtain, taking precaution not to disrupt the slumbering duo on his bed. He found himself watching Beta and Victoria as they slumbered, the younger girl muttering in her sleep as she lay curled up on her side. A soft smile tugged at Hekarro's lips as a gentle fondness for the girl overwhelmed him. Carefully, he took one of the spare blankets from his bed and folded it before gently tucking it beneath Beta's head. She muttered softly and turned, but thankfully remained peaceful and undisturbed.

Hekarro's gaze shifted to Victoria, who was sound asleep in the bed opposite Beta. Her obsidian tresses fanned across the pillows, and her snores were faint but inconsistent. She wore a frown on her face as her eyes darted from side to side beneath her closed eyelids, speaking words that he couldn't make out. Hekarro recognized the signs of a nightmare, however, his compassion was overshadowed by apprehension. If he moves to awaken her, what comfort could he give her? Being so foreign to her world and unaware of the tribulations that tormented her dreams, he dreaded that any words spoken would simply aggravate her further.

He disliked this feeling of powerlessness.

With a gentle sigh, Hekarro tried to put his worrisome thoughts aside. He carefully pulled out the remainder of his bedclothes and blankets, arranging them on the floor. He laid down once he was satisfied, shifting uncomfortably against the hard stone before settling on his back. He stared at the stars peeking through the broken roof and the branches rustling in the treetop above him. His thoughts filled with worry for his people and for the Old One, who lay sleeping not far from him.

#horizon forbidden west #horizon zero dawn #hfw #hzd #hfw fanfic #my writing #hekarro #chief hekarro #old one oc #beta hfw #kotallo #dekka #aloy #ghost of the ten

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