After the War's End

Chapter 41

Avad walked through the palace corridors, his mind still in the Sacred Lands and, of course, on Aloy, heading towards his room to pick up a few papers, take them to his office, and bury himself in work again. Upon entering, the sight was utterly desolate. In the weeks prior, Aloy's belongings were scattered around his room: arrows on a table, armor on a chair, her backpack in another corner... It was a sort of ordered mess. Now his quarters looked enormous and, above all, empty... a void that he couldn't fill even if he managed to fit every last object of his kingdom inside. He just wanted to embrace her one last time before she had departed, although of course, after that last embrace, he would have needed another, and then another, because it was never enough. He breathed in, sensing a faint trace of her scent, not sure if it was really the air still holding her scent or if it was his memories trying to console him. He sat for a moment on his partially sunlit bed. The sheets shifted under his weight, causing a warm glint next to him to catch his attention. He looked down and found a long red hair shining like a small incandescent flame beside him. The king took the fine hair and slid it between his fingers. As he stroked it from root to tip, it slid smoothly, but when he did so in the opposite direction, the hair provided some friction.

"At least you left this." he whispered, slowly opening a drawer and carefully depositing it inside, placing it next to the letter she had written and the ornament the matriarch had crafted for them. He didn't want to lose any of those precious objects for anything in the world. Then, he closed the drawer, feeling the tingling sensation of his eyes welling up again. That night, his huge bed would be empty again. He abruptly stood up and headed for the bathroom, fanning his face with both hands while blinking repeatedly. "Not now... I have to go with Marad to work..." he muttered to himself. He looked in the mirror as he filled the basin with cold water from the jug, seeing makeup stains on his lower eyelid and cheeks. Then, he submerged both hands in the liquid, cupping them together, and splashed his face, feeling the refreshing sensation of the water on his skin. Then, he gently dried himself, trying to avoid reddening his skin. After that, he applied eyeliner as he always did, and after taking one last look to confirm he looked presentable, he left the bathroom and picked up the papers he had to take to the office.

He sighed and went to open the office door, pushing it with his foot, balancing the numerous papers, scrolls, and blueprints he had stacked in both arms. He entered the room. Yes, he felt disgruntled. Once again, he would be without news of Aloy for a good while. He just wished everything would be fine, and she would return to the city as soon as possible. At least he was certain that Aloy wanted to return to him, and that was enough to keep him going. Suddenly, something caught his attention. There was an object hanging on the wall that wasn't there the last time he entered. When he recognized it, his strength failed him, causing him to drop all the papers he was carrying, scattering them on the room floor. Then, he fell to his knees with tears in his eyes, unable to look away from the object. That painting that no one had ever valued, the only one he had managed to save from his father's clutches, was there, exposed, adorning his office. His vision blurred with tears.

"Avad, I brought... Avad! Are you alright?" the Unflinching asked worriedly, seeing his friend in such a state, entering and closing the door behind him as he came in.

"I... I-I look..." he stuttered, pointing at the painting. "It's... it's my painting, the only one that survived my father's rampage. I-I don't know how it got here if... I-I had it hidden..." Marad cleared his throat.

"Um... the Redeemer gave me this for you." he said, confused, not entirely understanding what was going on. He knew that Aloy had placed the painting there, but not the reason. The Sun-King grabbed the paper he was offering, and after wiping his eyes with his fingertips, he opened it. It was written somewhat crudely, with a handwriting very different from his, somewhat irregular, with a somewhat messy appearance, where the lines, far from being straight, slanted up or down. It read as follows: