#once again i got lost on my way to pitchcliff

[hzdtrees]

Grey Nights

[galadrieljones]

zero: chapter 4

Fandom: Horizon: Zero Dawn | Pairing: Aloy x Nil | Rating: M (Mature)

Content: Existential Angst, Touch-Starved, Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Alcohol Abuse, First Loves in the Wild, Slow Burn, Violence

Chapter 1: Zero | Chapter 2: Driftless | Chapter 3: Borderlands | AO3

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Sick of people, Aloy went out and found the river. She looked up at the moon and the world all felt like glass. She threw some rocks into the water and they made ripples. She had taken off all of her armor and left it at the Palace of the Sun, and now she was free against the night in cotton clothing with nothing but her bow, and when she placed her palm against the earth she felt its coolness and she closed her eyes.

Avad had been very desperate in the wake of Dervahl. He had been weak and stupid with Aloy, anticipating that his mantle as King would determine their fate together. He was grieving intensely. Aloy could see it, though he was tightly held within himself, his stoicism so pure it reminded her of Rost’s. Like a sickness. He had been lovers with Ersa. He didn’t say this directly but men don’t grieve like that otherwise, and while Aloy had never been lovers with anyone she had known closeness. She tried to sense that now. She had left the Palace of the Sun because Avad had desired her company, and she could not make promises to a grieving man. Out here, she had a view of the Striders on the other side of the river, sifting around in the grass, and it had been almost three weeks since Sickle. The fog of her death had cleared and now she was just a kind but sad memory.

Back at the Palace, before she had left, Aloy unbraided her hair and left it down so that she could feel the ends of it brushing against her back and shoulders. She was crouched low, breathing in the medicinal hintergold of the riverbank when she heard him—his voice coming from a little ways up the river.

"Aloy."

It was Nil. She glanced and she remembered how he had told her he would find her in Meridian but that seemed so far away now, like a different lifetime, and she was so surprised, she didn’t even have the presence of mind to run to him. She just stood, waiting as he came to her, smiling because she lived, and because he must have known that she lived, because news traveled fast in the Sundom, and he was a very good listener, but Nil was a pessimist. She knew that he needed to see things to believe them.

When he got right up close, he had a net full of nighttime fish. Some of them were still alive and squirming around. He looked serious and relieved. He dropped the net, and it was very wet and splashed her feet and her knees, and some of the fish slapped around and found their way out and back into the water and swam away. He was just wearing a cotton shirt—gray or brown, she couldn’t tell in the dark, and some simple trousers and heavy boots on his feet, and his Carja tattoos were barely visible on his forearms and his face and his neck, and he had a large spear she had never seen before slung over his shoulder on a strap. "Your hair," he said. "No braids today." He tucked the loose hair behind her ear. A familiar gesture that let her know she was no longer alone, but she had not seen him in weeks. Maybe almost two months? She couldn't be sure. The sensation was like an anchor, though, waking from a dream, and the moon was behind him, covering them both with its silver light, and she, lost in the hypnosis of the moment, and washed of her grief, somehow, like those stupid fish in the river, placed her palms on his cheeks, and she stood as high up on her tip-toes as she could, and she kissed him.

It was a surprise, cool, and soft. Nil was taken off guard. He nearly stumbled, but he did not resist. Another stoic man, he tended to use humor to deflect his pain, but in that moment, once he realized what had happened, he allowed himself to unravel, and his lips parted on an instinct to kiss her back. It felt normal. He picked up his heavy hands, didn’t know what to do with them at first. It had been a very long time since he’d kissed a woman. He set them on her lower back, so gently because he did not wish to handle her as he handled so many of the outside, brutish things in life. She tasted like faraway lands, and like home. He sensed her, feeling her way against him, sort of clumsy but still assertive—and he let go of something big, something heavy inside as they kissed by the light of the moon beside the river, outside the gates of Meridian Village in the Sundom. So close to the place where he was born.

When they parted, finally, and the kiss was over, Aloy seemed lost, exhilarated. The sight of her was enough to undo him, so he squeezed his eyes shut, and he shook out his head like a dog to get his bearings back. He brushed his thumb past her chin, and he took a deep breath. He opened his eyes. He studied her, searching for something. Some explanation that he could make sense of. Was she drunk? Sad? He couldn’t see anything. He could only see her.

“I’m sorry,” she said. Her cheeks were pink.

“You’re sorry?”

“I should have asked first.” She looked away. She looked at the ground. He followed her eyes to the place where their boots touched the soil and stood very close to each other.

“You should have asked to kiss me?”

“Yes. I should have. Was it okay to kiss you?”

This amused him, but he could hear the seriousness in her voice. “It’s okay,” he said. He nudged her chin so that he could look her in the eye, and he laughed. “It’s okay, Aloy."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

She smiled at this, a little shy. But then she started crying. It was out of nowhere. It concerned him. He had seen her flustered but he had never seen her cry. She tried to suck it back but it was useless in front of him. He could hear the Striders buzzing behind them in the valley. All their stupid blue lights, casting shadows on the grass.

“What’s wrong?” he said.

She sniffled once, wiped her tears on the back of her hand. “Nothing.”

“Aloy.”

She took a deep breath. “Sickle’s gone,” she said.

“What do you mean?”

“A flock of Glinthawks, in Pitchcliff. I couldn’t fix her.”

It took him a moment to realize what she’d said. That Sickle was dead. The Strider was dead. But once he figured it out and how deep it seemed to have gotten and he remembered how long they had been apart, he became remorseful. “I’m sorry, Aloy.”

“I’d been messing with her a little bit, you know? She’d gotten smarter. It was just really ugly.”

“You will move on,” he said, putting that stray hair behind her ear again. “One day, and you will find another Strider to call your own.”

She smiled, blinked down at the grass. He could feel her—the optimism. She was not a dour girl. She had just been handed dour circumstances. “Thank you, Nil.”

“I heard about Dervahl. And Ersa,” he said.

This seemed to interest her. “Did you know them?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I remember them, from the uprising. But they were on the the other side. I never saw them up close.”

“I think that Avad and Ersa were lovers,” she said. “I think this whole thing has really screwed him up. He’s not right. I’m worried.”

“Avad will survive,” he said. He took a piece of hair out of her mouth. He sighed and for a moment, allowed himself to become vulnerable. “That is what he does.”

“Do you know him?”

“That is an old story, Aloy.”

“You won’t tell me?”

“One day,” he said. “It doesn’t matter. Not anymore.”

She sighed. She didn’t care that much, he could see. Avad was the sort of man who liked the soft female sensibility and sought it out wherever he could for his own validation. Nil knew he would have come on to Aloy, as she is pretty but strong and she held compassion deep in her heart. But she was too hard for him. She would not allow him these frivolities and she would see his grief for what it was and she held no pretenses for men or what they meant to her behind the moment. He knew that he filled some sort of void for her but what it was he did not yet know. He did not feel worthy of her company in this way but he, like her, also held compassion deep inside his heart from an old life in an old way, when he was a boy in the village and the world was not so mean to him and to his family. And he liked being with her, and her touch comforted him, and he would take from her only what she offered to him, as that was his way.

Somewhere nearby, they could hear a rabbit or something, rooting around in the foliage. He felt her hand on his. “My camp is up the river,” he said, “but I think you should get back to the Palace. Avad is taken with drama, and he will likely cause a sensation if you go missing.”

“You’re right,” she said. “I know.”

“I will be here.”

“Why don’t you come inside the city?”

“I am not welcome inside the city.”

“How?” she said. “You are absolved. Whatever happened, Nil, that’s the past.”

“You sleep in the Palace,” he said. “You are a revered guest of the Sun-King. I won’t take that from you. I am an outcast, Aloy. By choice, or not. I won't test those waters.”

“You think I don’t know what that means? To be an outcast?” she said.

“I think you do know what it means,” he said, “and that is why you understand why I must stay here and you must return to the Palace.”

She sighed. She scuffed her boot across the dirt, annoyed. “Fine,” she said.

“Are you—do you know what you have to do next, Aloy?”

“Yes,” she said. “But I’m not ready. I can’t, Nil. Not yet.”

“Fine,” he said. “It’s okay.”

“Can we talk more tomorrow?”

“Yes,” he said. “I will be here.”

“I’ll come at night,” she said, so serious. And then she threw her arms around his neck, held him tightly, very fast, until her toes left the earth. She was so light? He had carried her and been close to her but this was something else. Then, she whispered, "I don't know what to do. Is it different now? Did I change things?"

It was so strange. She was so strange, but it felt true. She was talking about the kiss. "No," he said. He felt grateful and undeserving like a whirlwind. He pushed the hair out of her face. "And yes. I don't know. We can figure it out tomorrow."

"Okay," she said. She smiled, low and pressed her forehead to his chest, just for a moment. Her hair was a little frizzy with the humidity of the night, and it was getting in his nose. She smelled just like Aloy—just like this girl that he knew and then he felt all the old fears bubbling up in his brain about what he wanted, and what he deserved. Nil was far away outside himself and he had been living there for years. What he did not know yet was that Aloy understood this. If there was anything she truly knew, it was a life of deflection and the difficult measures one must sometimes take just to let people in.

Once she was gone, Nil picked up his net, half the fish wriggled away, and he threw it over his shoulder and went back to his camp. He’d found a little overhang right up against the water, and it was safe enough around here with all the Carja patrols that the more aggressive machines kept their distance. They mostly left him alone. It was not illegal to camp in the outlands. Once or twice he thought he’d seen a familiar face in the week or so he’d been loitering around the village. He went in a couple times for supplies—mostly for booze. The barmaid looked like a girl he’d known from childhood but she did not seem to register his face the way he registered hers. Sometimes, Nil’s whole life felt like an invention of his imagination and in those days he had begun to question which parts of it were real, and which were not. Other than Aloy.

When he got back to his tent, he kicked off his boots and lie on his back beside the fire and looked at the stars. He was not tired and sort of wished he had something to do other than bide his time. He thought of hunting. He thought of just going out to kill machines because he felt like it. And because they were there and they were a challenge. But he was also euphoric and taking a moment to stew in his marginal confusion. Part of living outside yourself means denying the pleasures in life that make the self stronger. Aloy had kissed him, and that had put certain values into perspective, and thrown others out of wack. Would he have gone into the woods that night, hunting aggressive shit robots like the Sawtooth or the Stalker if Aloy had not touched her mouth to his? Probably. His hesitation spoke to a man with something to lose and he did not know what that felt like. He had not felt this in many years, and in truth, never for a single woman so strongly. It was like being a child. His helplessness in the face of his and her mortality was beginning to show, but it was the reason he was camped out here, outside Meridian in the first place. Wasn’t it? Waiting for her. Would he be doing this if she were just a partner? A drinking buddy. He didn’t think so.

After a little time went by, he began to hear movement on the other side of the ledge, in the clearing. He knew the sounds of machines, and this wasn’t it. It wasn’t Aloy either. He had the sound of her footsteps memorized. No. It was men, an organized group of them, and they had stopped nearby and now a single set of footsteps approached. Nil sat up and grabbed his spear. He did not move. He just sat, holding it tightly, his eyes cast straight ahead with his peripheral vision waling hard into his brainspace. The footsteps approached on the right. They did not sound secretive or hurried. Nil loosened his grip and finally turned his head to see who it was—who had come here.

It was Avad, disguised in a heavy cloak, followed by ten or eleven Vanguard soldiers holding spears and torches. But they stayed back, way out of earshot, as this was not an ambush or an arrest, it would seem, but a personal visit from the Sun-King himself.

Nil was relieved, but also annoyed and a little confused. He sighed and tossed his spear and did not stand. “Avad,” he said. “I wondered what it might take for you to leave the city walls. Apparently, it’s me.”

“Hello, Nil,” said Avad.

“How did you find me?”

“By observing Aloy.”

Nil laughed to himself, rolled his eyes. “You’d better hope she doesn’t find out. She doesn’t take kindly to deception.”

“Does anyone?” said Avad, standing there. He put his hood back and looked at the fire. Nil didn’t get it at first, what he was doing there. Thought it must have had something to do with him. But he saw it then, the soft of Avad’s eyes and how it looked as if he had been crying.

“Why are you here,” said Nil.

“Are you her lover?” said Avad, giving him a long, careful look. He seemed surprised, disappointed, even saddened. “I didn’t know. Am I wrong?”

Nil squared up his shoulders, a little unhinged inside at the thought of being watched in the wild. The question was highly unexpected. “I’m certain that what I am or am not has nothing to do with you, Avad. Not anymore.”

“I understand that,” said Avad, crouching now by the fire. “I just wanted to know.”

“Why?” said Nil. He did not like deception either, though he had come to expect it in ways that Aloy had no way of experiencing. “So that you may calibrate how you might proceed?” he said. “Aloy told me about you and Ersa. I didn’t know that. It’s not a good time, Avad. You need to grieve.”

“Nobody knew about Ersa,” said Avad. He tossed a pebble into the fire. “Well, almost nobody. Anyway, it had just been a very long time since I last saw you. I wanted to see for myself, and as Aloy has proven to be a valuable ally, to understand the company she keeps. In any capacity.”

“A valuable ally. Is that all?” said Nil.

“Excuse me?”

"You’re too curious, Avad.”

“That is a misinterpretation, Nil.”

“Perhaps,” said Nil. “But here you are, inquiring about my affairs with a mutual friend who happens to be a woman. I know you.”

“You know what.”

“How you keep them,” said Nil. He plucked a reed from the grass, placed it between his teeth. “How you always have. Prince Avad. It is important for you to keep women. Am I wrong?”

“Of course not,” said Avad. “I am not ashamed of this, and I know my reputation. Though I disapprove of your choice of words. I keep no one. No woman I’ve ever loved has been the kept-type.”

Nil laughed. “Love is a very small word with a very big meaning, Avad. You’re out of your element. And if I were you, I would reexamine what you’re doing here. Are you in love with Aloy? Even as the last woman you supposedly loved is barely cold in the earth after she died protecting your life?”

“That is enough.”

Nil ignored him. “The good Sun-King of the good Sundom should not spy on his allies,” he said, “nor should he pay nocturnal visits to war criminals outside the city walls. Not unless he has a very good reason.”

“Reformed war criminals,” said Avad, strong, perfect courage, glancing at Nil in the yellow firelight. “Aloy reminded me of that.” He stood up then, dusted his hands together. “I’m not here to argue, or to talk about Ersa or Aloy. Whatever happened between us, Nil, that is the past. I came here to tell you that you are free to enter the city. You have my full pardon. No one will give you trouble, I will see to it.”

“The city?” Nil said. “What would I want with Meridian? And why would I warrant your sponsorship now, after all these years? Because of Aloy? Your ally?”

“It is only an offer,” said Avad. He put his hood up and clasped his hands in front of him, a man made of high chivalry and etiquette but too romantic and easy prey for a wordsmith like Nil. “A simple offer to an old friend.”

Nil thought on it. He spat in the weeds out of habit, discarding the reed. He was thirsty and he was feeling on the edge of something and it was taking him out of his euphoria and this was bothersome. “Thank you,” he said.

“I’ll take my leave,” said Avad.

"As you should," said Nil.

After he and his ten men left, Nil lie back down and closed his eyes. He wanted to get back to that place he’d been before, his pleasant confusion on the topic of Aloy. But Avad’s visit had been disruptive and it threw a wrench in all this, and it put him in a bad mood. He was searching, searching. He got up and armored and he took his bow and his spear and he went out into the wilderness to play his game. At the end of the day, this was what he understood and perhaps it would get him back to the thing he needed in the first place. The thing that drew him to the peculiar Nora girl with the big heart and terrifying demeanor, and the way she made him feel. As he put his spear into the wired throat of a Stalker in the high, red weeds, and he listened to its life whirring out of existence he felt his anger leaving him. Aloy’s red hair was like a natural born camouflage in this place, he thought as he wiped the machine oil from his blade, blending her into the terrain almost as if it were made just for her. And when he finished his work in the wilderness that night, and it was nearly dawn, he went back to his camp on the river, and he took a long, hard drink of something, and he put his head on the pillow, and he slept. The fire was cold. The sun was warm. He slept harder than he had in some time knowing that whatever it was or whatever it would turn out to be and for all the stupidity and hubris of Avad, for the moment, Nil had something to look forward to.