huntress-therion - Tumblr blog

huntress-therion · 2 years

Text

In Another Life: Chapter 3

Summary: (AU) Aloy grows up among the Sky Clan instead of the Nora and is raised alongside a boy whose life will be inextricably bound with hers.

Chapter 3: What is Unseen

Read it on AO3

“Where is Aloy?”

It’s a question that often falls on Kotallo’s shoulders. One he could readily answer, until recently. Since his earliest memories, Aloy would always be near - just around the corner, or right beneath the eave of a shelter, or somewhere under his feet beneath the bluffs.

It seems like all he would have to do is think about the color of her hair, and she would appear as if summoned. She has always been a part of him, like the patterns of ink on his skin. Now, she’s prone to wandering off and says nothing about where she’s going.

She never used to keep secrets from him.

It’s aggravating. How often she disappears. How often she asks about the world beyond Tenakth territories. How often she asks about other tribes, and whether Chief Hekkaro would ever open their borders one day. But the blood shed from the Red Raids seems to seep further and further into the West. And Kotallo spends every spare moment reminding Aloy of this danger. There have been no reports of Tenakth soldiers falling to Carja blades, but the scouts say they can hear screams across the plains of No Man’s Land.

If Aloy fell into their hands…

No. It is unthinkable.

“I’ll look for her,” he says.

“Be back before sundown,” says his squad captain. “But before you go, Tekkoteh would like a word with you.”

“Tekkoteh?”

“It could only be good news, boy.” His squad captain smiles. “Now hurry on to our commander. Then you can find the little menace.”

There’s a loud ringing in her head.

Once, on a hunt, she was caught unaware by a longleg that screeched into her ears before alerting the other machines. Fortunately, her squad had been there to dispatch the larger predators so that she could get away. But it took nearly the whole spring before she could start hearing properly again. Kotallo had fussed and hovered over her for weeks.

Kotallo…

Aloy doesn’t want to think of him right now. Or how loudly he would reprimand her for being so careless. He's always scolding her for one reason or another these days. Even though she’s fifteen and isn’t any more or less reckless than he’d been at her age.

All right, maybe a tiny bit more reckless. Just a smidge.

It takes effort to turn her head toward the sunlight.

A light that is so very, very far above her. Had she fallen?

Her muscles groan as she sits up.

Oh, yep. Definitely a big fall.

She shakes out her limbs. Nothing broken. Thank the Ten.

Blinking, she takes in her surroundings. Everything is damp and smells of mold and rusted metal…a ruin? Yes, a ruin.

A current of excitement runs through her like electricity. She’s heard of such places, buried deep underground all over the West. The Old Ones would take shelter in them, or use them as facilities for training and military operations.

For what kind of threat, the Chaplains don't exactly know. Aloy can only imagine. It must have been awful given how fortified their defenses were: such thick walls in such dark, lifeless places.

It makes her think of Tekkoteh and his speeches about how the Bulwark is impenetrable. “It’s been here since the birth of our clan. It will never fall and neither will we.” It unnerves her,how much of their clan took him at his word. Everything falls, one way or another. Even the Ancient World, for all the wonders it created.

Well. Nothing left to do but find a way back up.

She stretches out her limbs and checks her armor - everything’s intact. More than likely, her armor bore the brunt of the damage. Kotallo had been right to upgrade it a few weeks ago. She remembers how he came home with most of the parts she needed: shards, large machine core, hardplate, and even more impressive, a sunwing shield caster.

“I could get these myself, you know.”

“Consider it a gift,” he told her, in that soft way that warms her inside.

Those moments are becoming fewer and further between, though. Almost every other day, there’s a new quarrel to be had. Things used to be so easy between them, and now they grate against each other, like unoiled parts. Like the space that held them suddenly became too small, the friction unbearable.

“People as close as you two will know exactly how to get under each other’s skin,” Gerrah once advised. Aloy guesses it’s true. They’ve seen each other at their best and at their worst. She doubts that anyone else knows them as deeply as they do.

Aloy winds from one corridor to another, observing the dull lights and exposed beams. Eventually she comes to the end of a stairwell which leads to an empty shaft, wind rustling in the shadows above. She glances up, noting the panels she can use as handholds.

She takes a breath. Cracks her knuckles. Then climbs.

Like the snowmelt from the ceiling, her memories from that morning come back to her in drips. She just finished off a special weave in her armor, and went to go see Kotallo before his patrol. And she did find him…with someone.

Torreh, she remembers. One of the scouts from Stonecrest. He may have been a year or two older than Kotallo. And clearly an admirer, if that kiss had anything to say about it. Kotallo seemed surprised, but didn’t find the kiss unwelcoming.

Aloy had shrunk back, cheeks red.

It’s silly, she thinks. Kotallo is one of the clan’s most sought after sons. Torreh isn’t the first one to seek out his affection, and he wouldn’t be the last. Kotallo had begun to draw the eyes of men and women alike since he matured. He would never be short of partners to choose from.

Somehow that only makes her feel more alone.

As though she is, once again, the little Nora babe left upon the steps of a mountain.

Aloy has felt jealous before. But the jealousy that erupted inside her that morning felt different, somehow. It struck her, not unlike an arrowhead, lodging somewhere beneath her ribcage, unable to budge.

It’s the kind of jealousy that edges toward possession, and it makes her feel shameful and ugly inside. As if she’s swallowed acid. Kotallo may be one of the most important people in her life, but he isn’t hers any more than she is his. Neither of them could be owned.

Maybe that’s why they fight so much about Tekkoteh. Their commander appraises people the way Strike players appraise their pieces on board, as something to be used. But Kotallo insists that he’s only protecting them.

“He’s not protecting us,” Aloy once told him, out of frustration. “He’s isolating us.”

Kotallo did not speak to her for the rest of that night. And when the next day began, they never spoke of it again. Until the next time it came up and they'd sidle around each other as though avoiding blast traps.

They set each other off too easily.

Aloy takes another breath, twisting her body so that she could spring to the opposite wall.

If a relationship with Kotallo is this hard, she can only imagine what it would be like to share herself with other people. The way he so effortlessly does.

“You need more people to depend on than just me,” he once told her. “It can’t only be me.”

Even though, for a time, it’s always been just the two of them.

Maybe he’s right. Maybe she’s relied on him too much for too many things. One person couldn’t possibly fulfill her every single need. It wouldn’t be fair.

She just wants Kotallo to be happy.

That should be enough.

Finally, she makes it to the top of the landing. At the end of another long corridor, down another dimly lit staircase, she sees it: two double doors. She squeezes through the sliver of space and lets her eyes adjust.

There are…more panels along the walls. Stations with blank screens and more blinking lights. At the center is a communal space, filled with long seats and tables. All around the space are different doors that look like they lead to private rooms, with two cots or four, bolted on top of one another. Desks and shelving too.

And then the corpses, resting soundly beneath the rotting covers.

Aloy doesn’t recoil. Instead, she’s pinned down by a wave of sadness.

There is one room with a smaller cot in the others. A stuffed toy - almost perfectly preserved - sits forlornly on the bedside table. She doesn’t know what kind of animal it’s meant to be, but if she squints just right, there’s a vague shape of a frostclaw.

She turns and her eyes are drawn to the little form tucked beneath the covers. This Old One couldn’t have been more than a child.

Hmm. What’s that��glowing near the child’s ear?

She picks up the tiny device and on instinct places it above her own temple.

A voice appears.

Then a Vision…

An Old One, made alive again.

“Hi Daddy,” the Vision says. “It’s me, Isaac…”

In the end, Kotallo finds Aloy not far from home.

Their paths cross where the river bends, near a large field across a bridge. The field is known to harbor a particularly vicious herd of fanghorns, known to gore more than their fair share of seasoned hunters. But Aloy, naturally, doesn’t appear to be deterred by the danger. Instead, she crouches low in the grass, her hands waving in front of her face in strange gestures.

“Looks like that component is…weak to chillwater.”

“What are you doing?” he asks.

Aloy doesn’t look at him. Not right away. Instead, she taps a strange device above her ear. “Nothing. Just exploring.”

“Exploring?”

She nods, unwilling to tell him more.

Kotallo’s lips purse into a thin line. “Fine. Keep it yourself then. And what is that?”

Aloy brushes her temple. “Just a relic” she says, finally. “I found it while…exploring.”

She wears a strange expression on her face. As though she wants to explain herself, but is choosing not to. It's worrisome, how her trust in him is more carefully parceled, more cautious. Then again, she’s like that with many in their clan. He supposes what bothers him is thinking he was somehow different, as special to her as she is to him.

Speaking of which…

“C’mon,” he says. “We’ve already missed the first dinner bell. If we idle any longer, we’ll miss the second.”

“Right.”

Silence yawns between them as they make their way back. Aloy is more distracted than usual, her eyes fixed on an object he cannot see.

“I spoke with Tekkoteh this evening.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, he…he’s asked me to become part of his personal guard.”

She stops. “Oh.”

He isn’t sure what he’s been expecting. Aloy, he knows, is not as fond of their commander as he is. A fact that’s always been a point of contention between them. She's always viewed Tekkoteh’s regard for him with suspicion, but Kotallo could never understand why. With Tekkoteh leading them, the Sky Clan has seen far fewer losses in recent years and far fewer tragic orphans like him as a result.

“That’s because he keeps us apart from the tribe,” Aloy had argued. “If no one leaves, then no one gets hurt. But living like that is no better than a prison.”

“This is our home,” he told her, a warning edge to his tone. “How can you call it a prison?”

“No. This is your home,” Aloy had said. “I belong nowhere, remember?”

How many times had they parried like that? Too many to count, Kotallo thinks. And neither of them ever emerged as the victor. They are both too stubborn and resolute for that. Even so, he hoped Aloy would have said something encouraging.

“Is this what you still want?” she asks, green eyes shuttering. As though she could sense as well as he does, that a vital part between them is about to change, and it would never be the same again. “As long as it’s still what you want.”

“Yes,” he says and Aloy nods.

When had she grown so tall? She always used to crane her neck to look up at him. Had she been changing before his very eyes and he simply didn’t wish to see it?

“Good,” she says. “You’ll be great.”

And though she says it with a smile, the fading twilight catching in her hair, they both feel the weight of the things that lay unspoken between them.

—

That night, Aloy taps the device again. It’s a Focus, she learns. A series of glyphs appear, line after line, a never ending scroll…ancient mysteries to be unlocked. Her mind spins and whirs, awake in a way that it’s never been before.

Kotallo has always been meant for great things, she thinks.

Just what is she meant for?

Maybe this relic would show her the way.

Thanks for reading <3

Up next: A Marshal arrives at the Bulwark.

Other Kotaloy fics:

Captivated

This Tenderness

In Another Life: Chapter 1, 2

#kotaloy #kotallo x aloy #aloy x kotallo #hfw fanfic #horizon forbidden west

9 notes · View notes

huntress-therion · 2 years

Text

In Another Life: Chapter 2

Summary: (AU) Aloy grows up among the Sky Clan instead of the Nora and is raised alongside a boy whose life will be inextricably bound with hers.

Chapter 2: Child of Nowhere

Read it on AO3

10 years later…

They call her Kotallo’s shadow.

This is because everywhere the young warrior went, the little Nora was sure to follow. When Kotallo remarks on this, she would scoff and say, “I’m not little. You’re just stupidly tall.” Which would make him bristle with self-consciousness. At sixteen, he has already outgrown some of their most seasoned veterans. He is no longer lanky, awkward, or morose (though his temper is still known to frost over, every now and then). If anything, he’s becoming fiercer and more formidable by the day. Whispers of admiration - and not a little flirtatious interest - trail after him, mostly from his peers.

“I hear Tekotteh is eyeing him to become part of his personal guard.”

“Can you believe it? The youngest ever to get his soldier’s marks.”

“I heard he did the March as though it were a summer’s stroll.”

“He’ll be a squad captain worthy of the Ten. Just watch.”

The clamoring attention annoys Aloy for reasons she cannot explain. Jealousy is partially at the root of it, though it pains her to admit to something so petty and childish (even if she is a child). It makes sense: Kotallo is older and more experienced. Even so, she cannot stand how often - and how thoroughly - he beats her in the ring. At bows, at spears, at swords, at knives…he is faster, stronger, more cunning with his tactics.

For now.

“You’ll catch up,” he says, after another bout where he’s made her eat dirt. “Eventually.”

“No,” says Aloy, burning with determination. “I’ll go even farther. You’ll see.”

And while this amuses the rest of the clan, Kotallo does not take her words lightly. “It would be a mistake to underestimate you,” he concedes. Then they take up their spears again.

But as much as Aloy wants to best him, she knows that isn’t what drives her to take up her gear every day, often long before her squad wakes, and go through each form and exercise until her limbs shake and she can no longer stand. It isn’t Kotallo’s skills or talent she wants…it’s…

It’s the ease he has. The comfort in his gestures as he moves about the clan. People smile and make room for him in a way they do not for her. He is welcomed and expected to do great things. Aloy, even by proximity, is only tolerated. No one expects anything from her. And with every year that passes, the gap between them grows a little larger. Even if Kotallo doesn’t see it. Or perhaps, he just refuses to.

Whatever their differences, Kotallo is her closest squadmate. Somewhere between sibling and dearest friend, though not quite either. It is hard to define the bond between them, except that it was forged in grief. Their paths crossed, as fate would have it, when they were both most alone. And so, they understood one another in ways others did not. But while Kotallo’s circle of companions grows wider, Aloy is not so fortunate. Many, in fact, still call her “outlander” or “nowhere’s child.” Though only when Kotallo isn’t present (they want to keep their teeth, after all).

But they aren’t wrong, Aloy thinks. She is an outlander, even if saying so makes Kotallo angry.

“No, you are one of us,” he would say, with finality. “Pay them no mind.” Then he would take her hand and place it over his heart, its beat as strong as a war drum. “Here. Listen. Your blood is my blood. Never forget that.”

“If you say so…”

Still, Aloy cannot rid the feeling that she is something…other. Different. It gnaws at her, leaving an ache in the pit of her belly. Because despite wearing their colors, their paint, and reciting the deeds of the Ten to perfection, Aloy knows in her very marrow that she is not Tenakth. No matter how much she and Kotallo would wish it otherwise.

She does not always follow our ways. How often do the elders reprimand her for this? She is known to be willful and disobedient. I see you’d rather fly on your own path, than on the Wings of the Ten. She also questions orders, to the heavy consternation of others. One of her favorite words to say, since she could walk from the cradle, is “Why?” and everyone around her would groan in exasperation at her relentless pursuit of knowledge.

“Why don’t you just become a Chaplain?” they sneer.

Maybe she would.

Gerrah is battle-hardened and wise in the ways of the Ten. But even so, there are questions even beyond her grasp. One of which is the riddle of Aloy’s origin. She makes Gerrah tell her, again and again, the story of how she found Aloy in the snow, in the arms of a man who journeyed far from the East. A man she thinks about often.

Who was he? Why did he bring her here? Could he have been her father? And if so, what of her mother? Such questions linger over her every waking moment, and the longer they go unanswered, the more aware she is of her own incompleteness. There is only one token from the man that Aloy could keep in remembrance - a strange necklace in the shape of an upside-down tear. It’s fitting, she supposes, given the tragic way she and this man parted ways.

She is a person with too many missing pieces, and she cannot help but believe that this man is the key to understanding it all. But all anyone knows is that the man was a Nora. A tribe she desperately wishes to know more about.

“Such a wish would not be so easily granted,” says Gerrah. “To go that far East would mean crossing into Carja lands and Chief Hekkaro has yet to forge a steady alliance with Sun King Jiran.”

Sun King Jiran. Or, the Mad Sun King, if the rumors of his latest exploits were true. News had traveled far from Barren Light that Jiran had begun to prey on neighboring territories, setting his sights on the Orseram, the Banuk, and yes, even the Nora. Those taken prisoner were sacrificed to their sun god, in hopes of reversing the strange Derangement plaguing the machines. It would not be long, the squad captains said, before the Sun King would set his sights on the Forbidden West.

“If it comes to that,” says Kotallo. “We’ll be ready for him.”

“I hope it doesn’t,” says Aloy. “Maybe there can be peace one day, like Chief Hekkaro says.”

Kotallo snorts. They are both eating their dinner rations in the mess hall, with Kotallo handing her extra portions from his own meal. “You’re too skinny for your own good,” he says. Which he knows would make her scowl. Though she will not say no to more food, given that the season’s game and harvest have not been plentiful and their accord with the Utaru has not yielded as much they all hoped. Where Kotallo is all height and hard muscle, Aloy finds herself all knobby knees and pointy elbows.

At the other end of the long table are their other squad mates, who loudly call Kotallo to join them (Aloy notes that there is only one seat open). Kotallo always politely declines, though she notes that it’s getting harder and harder for him to do so. She may be ten, but she can detect longing when she sees it. So she eats the rest of her food in silence, trying not to feel like a burden. Trying not to feel as though she is someone who he must look after out of obligation and duty.

Later, they sit side by side, upon a ridge that overlooks the valley below. It is a nighttime ritual they both share, where they take in the chill wind and the wooded silence below. The sun has just set behind the mountains beyond, casting everything in twilight.

Aloy traces the faint stars above her in nonsensical patterns. “Do you ever think about…what’s out there?”

“Out where?” asks Kotallo. He is lying on his back, hands laced behind his neck. He wears a new headpiece, something he has pulled off a scrounger, she thinks. Or maybe even a ravager. The way others talk about him, it wouldn’t be long before he could take on a whole behemoth on his own.

Aloy shrugs. “Maybe East. Maybe further.”

There is a pause as Kotallo considers her, his face gilded by firelight. Here, in the dark, Aloy can almost see the man he is becoming, the man the elders have such high hopes for.

“Why go anywhere?” he says, finally. “Our home is here. Behind the Bulwark. It's as Tekkoteh says: our strength comes from the stone.”

Her disappointment stings. Kotallo has been doing this more often lately. “Tekkoteh says this…Tekkoteh says that…” Kotallo can be so exceptional in many ways, but in this, he's as blind as an eyeless burrower. It is as though Tekkoteh’s word is nothing short of law, no matter that they have a Chief whose word weighs far more than that of their commander. Aloy does not like the gleam in Tekkoteh’s eyes, which makes her think of greed and ambition. How Kotallo could mistake that for courage and tenacity, she doesn’t know. But she would rather not spend the rest of the night fighting with him about it, so she lets it go.

“Our strength may come from the stone,” Aloy begins, “But we all must aim to fly on the Wings of the Ten. Maybe one day I’ll become a Marshal. See the rest of the clan lands. Maybe I’ll even see what’s beyond the gates of Barren Light, if another Embassy will take place.”

“With the danger of the Red Raids?” says Kotallo. “Unlikely.”

True. But danger or no, the taste of such an adventure fills her with a different kind of longing. She would risk it, she realizes with astonishment. Yes, she would risk it all. To see the breadth of the world and its people beyond the Bulwark would be…extraordinary.

“There’s more to the world than the Sky Clan,” she says.

Kotallo isn’t impressed. “Everything we need is right here.” He turns to face her. “Would you really leave home? Leave me?”

“I…”

Of course not, Aloy wants to say. Never.

And yet…

“It wouldn’t be forever,” she says. “You could come with me! If you rise through the ranks any higher, you could probably compete in the Kulrut. Think about it: Marshal Kotallo.”

It has a nice ring, she thinks. But he barks a dark laugh.

“Tekkoteh would never allow such a thing. And I, for one, am glad for it.”

Aloy sighs. Tekkoteh, again…

Kotallo rises to his feet. “Come on. It’s getting late. And I have an early patrol tomorrow.”

“You go on ahead,” says Aloy. “I want to watch the stars a little more.”

“Suit yourself,” he says. “Just don’t stay up too late.”

And when he walks away, her eyes linger on the empty space he’s left behind.

Thanks for reading <3

A/N: Growing up can also mean growing apart and I wanted to show some of the nuances of that in Aloy and Kotallo's relationship. They're obviously close, but it's clear that their goals and visions of life are very different. Cue that sweet coming-of-age angst.

Up next: Aloy gets her Focus.

Other Kotaloy fics:

Captivated

This Tenderness

In Another Life: Chapter 1, 3

#kotaloy #kotallo x aloy #aloy x kotallo #hfw fanfic #horizon forbidden west

7 notes · View notes