Pixel post dividers for everyone! It's not much, but feel free to use them if you'd like.
I don't know the ideal size for these, so let me know if they're too tall. I can make them a bit shorter next time.
can you pleaseeee do toxic Neteyam, like someone is flirting insane with reader and he watches from afar. Then grabs reader and is SUPERRR touchy to make sure the other sees. Later when they’re alone he tells us that we are only his and spits into readers mouth to show how possessive he is abt us 🙈🙈🙈🙈🙈🙈🙈
❀࿔: 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔ aged up! neteyam ✘ fem! metkayina! reader
♪ warnings: lower caps, smut, p in v, oral (f receiving), fingering, teasing neteyam, spitting, possesive neteyam, dry humping/grinding, tit sucking, slight nipple play
♪ wc: 4.2k
♪ author's note: ooouuuuu i had a blast writing this 😝😝😝 spitting is sexy asf idc what anybody say! tysm for ur request i hope you like it💗💗💗
the sound of rushing water and the gentle waves crashing against the shore fill the air as you sit on a rock, looking out into the vast ocean. the cool breeze blows through your hair, carrying the salty scent of the sea.
as you sit, lost in thought, a figure approaches from the distance. you recognize the figure as unay, one of the metkayina warriors.
you were aware that he liked you. you had tried countless times to get the point across that you weren’t interested in him, but he never seemed to take the hint.
you offer him a warm smile and his eyes light up, misinterpreting it as encouragement. he sits down next to you on the rock, his arm brushing against yours. “beautiful day, isn't it?” he says, trying to engage in conversation. “i was hoping to see you out here.”
you nodded, looking out into the ocean. “yeah, it is really nice.”
he leans in slightly closer, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone. “you know, you always look so beautiful out here by the ocean. the way the sunlight catches your eyes... it's really something.” his flirty tone is evident as he tries to charm you.
you offered him another smile. “thank you. that’s really sweet.” you reply, trying to be nice despite not being comfortable with the flirting.
unay takes your response as an opening and scoots a bit closer, his thigh now pressing against yours. “i was thinking... maybe after dinner, we could go for a swim together? just the two of us, under the moonlight? the water is always so warm and peaceful at night.”
“ummm,” you start. “i think im busy. but if im not then im sure we could.”
he’s clearly not picking up on your hints that you're not interested. his hand moves to rest casually on the rock behind you, effectively trapping you slightly. “you’re always so busy lately. ever since those outsiders showed up...”
“well i’ve been busy with helping them to learn our ways. i promised tsireya that i would help her.” you replied.
while you did promise tsireya that, that wasnt the main reason why you were always with them. the truth is that you wanted to get closer to someone that had caught your attention. and it was pretty clear that you had caught his too.
you werent sure if unay was aware of the growing tension between you and neteyam, or if he was just deliberately choosing to ignore it and continue to chase after you.
unay’s expression turned slightly jealous, his hand tightening on the rock behind you. “those outsiders don't need our ways. they’re not one of us.” he leans in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “you should be spending time with someone from your own clan.”
what you didn’t know was that from a distance, partially hidden behind the trunk of a large tree, neteyam was watching the scene unfold.
his jaw tightens, his eyes narrowing as he sees unay leaning closer to you, effectively trapping you against the rock. he sees your polite smile and knows you're trying to be nice, but he hates seeing another man touching you.
he sees the way unay is invading your personal space, and how uncomfortable you look despite trying to be polite. his hands ball into fists at his sides as jealousy and anger boil inside him.
“that’s why im helping to teach them. you should be more welcoming towards them.” you tell him, your voice slightly firm.
unay rolls his eyes, clearly not interested in learning about the outsiders. “i don't need to learn their ways. i have everything i need right here.” his hand shifts slightly, now resting on the rock closer to you. “like you, for example.”
neteyams breath hitches as he watches unay’s hand move closer. his mind races with possessive thoughts, his instincts screaming at him to claim you right then and there. but he holds back, watching and waiting to see how you'll react.
you don’t reply, just offer him yet another smile like you always did.
unay takes your silence as encouragement, his hand slowly sliding down the rock until it's resting just behind your back. he leans in closer, his voice a low murmur. “you know, if you weren't so busy with those outsiders... i could show you a good time.”
neteyams eyes flash with anger and his hands clench so tightly that his nails dig into his palms. he can barely stand watching this any longer. the way unay is talking to you…
neteyam finally decided to walk up.
“oh, um…” you trail off, not sure how to respond.
“everything good here?” neteyams voice cuts through the air. unay looks up, surprised and slightly annoyed to see neteyam approaching. he slowly removes his hand from behind your back, sitting up straighter. “yeah, everything's fine. we were just talking.” he leans back slightly, giving neteyam a challenging look.
neteyam sits down beside you and wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him. unays eyes narrow slightly, clearly picking up on the tense atmosphere and neteyams silent claim on you. he leans in closer, not backing down easily.
neteyam's voice is low and calm, but there's an undercurrent of possessiveness and warning in his tone. he looks at unay directly, his eyes unblinking. “i think that's enough talking for now. don’t you?” his other hand comes to rest on your knee.
unay’s jaw tightens, but he doesn't back down. instead, he leans in closer, his eyes flicking between you and neteyam. “or maybe we haven't talked enough.”
neteyams eyes narrow at his words. his hand on your hip squeezes tighter, his thumb pressing into your hipbone. his other hand moves higher on your leg, almost reaching your thigh. “i think we have.”
you let out a heavy sigh, clearly uncomfortable with the tension in the atmosphere.
your sigh breaks through the air, making both men realize how uncomfortable you are. unay finally backs down, seeing that he's not going to get anywhere with you while neteyam is being so clearly possessive.
neteyam's voice is calm and controlled, but there's no mistaking the message behind his words. he looks at unay with a hard stare, his hand still resting on your leg. “i think you should go.”
unay’s face twists into a scowl, clearly irritated by being dismissed. “we were just having a conversation.”
“a conversation that's over now.” neteyam replies, his voice firm. his hand moves slightly higher on your leg. “and i’m not asking you to leave. i’m telling you.” his eyes are hard and commanding. “go.”
unay’s shoulders slump as he realizes he's not getting anywhere. he stands up, giving you a longing look before turning his gaze to neteyam. “this is foolish.” he mutters. “she can speak for herself.”
neteyam's jaw tightens, his words striking a nerve. “can she? because she looked pretty uncomfortable to me.”
unay stares for a long moment, then finally turns and walks off with a frustrated shake of his head.
neteyam watches him leave before turning his full attention to you. his eyes search yours, looking for any sign of discomfort or annoyance at his behavior. “are you okay?”
“neteyam… you didnt have to-“
“yes, i did.” he says firmly, his voice low and serious. “i saw how uncomfortable he was making you, and i couldn't just stand by and do nothing.”
he suddenly stood up. “come with me.” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. his eyes are intense, almost desperate.
“what? where?-”
neteyam simply starts walking away from the shore, not answering your question. he grips your hand tightly, pulling you along with him. he walks quickly, his legs eating up the distance as he leads you towards the dense forest that borders the beach.
he finally stops when you're deep enough in the forest that no one else can hear or see you. he turns to face you abruptly, his eyes burning with intensity. “we’re going to talk.” he says firmly. he hand leaves yours to rest on your waist.
“neteyam-“
neteyam cuts you off again, his voice softer this time but no less intense. “just listen to me, okay?” he steps closer to you, his frame looming over yours.
he takes a deep breath, his eyes flicking down to your lips before meeting yours again. “i don't want anyone else touching you. talking to you. looking at you.” his hand tightens on your waist. “especially not that warrior back there.”
“neteyam…” you breathed out.
“i know i was probably being a dick back there.” he admits, running his other hand through his hair. “but i couldn't stand how he was looking at you.” he paused. “like he wanted what's mine.”
your heart hammered in your chest at his words. his eyes dropped to your lips again, watching them part slightly as your breath hitched.
without thinking, he stepped even closer, his body almost pressing against yours. “and it's not just him. it’s any man who looks at you like that. like they want to take you from me.” his voice tightens.
neteyams hands move to grip your hips, his fingers digging in slightly as he pulls you flush against him. his face is inches from yours, his breath mingling with yours.
your eyes dart down to his lips, twitching with unspoken words and suppressed kisses.
he’s suddenly very aware of how easy it would be to bend your head back and kiss you right now. his voice drops even lower, almost hoarse. “say something” he commands softly. “anything.”
“they… they won’t take me from you, neteyam.” your voice was barely above a whisper. “i won’t let them.”
his breath catches, his eyes going soft and possessive all at once. a low groan rumbles in his chest. “good,” he murmurs against your lips, not quite kissing you but so close you can feel the heat of him. “because i’m not letting you go either.” his hand moves up to cradle the back of your head.
neteyam's lips hover over yours, brushing against them lightly. it’s a soft, teasing kiss, driving you crazy with need. his eyes watch your face closely, searching for any sign of discomfort. instead, he finds you leaning in, chasing his lips.
“please…” you whispered.
neteyam smirks against your lips, knowing exactly what he's doing to you. he pulls back just enough to keep his lips out of reach, teasing you with soft, feather-light kisses that barely touch. his hands tighten on your hips. “please what?”
“please...” you repeated softly. “kiss me…”
neteyam finally gives in, crushing his lips against yours in a desperate, passionate kiss. his hand in your hair tightens, pulling you closer as his tongue pushes past your lips. it’s possessive, claiming. everything you've wanted from him.
you wrapped your arms around him tightly, your tongue tangling with his.
he groans into your mouth, the sound vibrating against your lips. his other hand slides down to your lower back, pressing you impossibly closer until there's no space between you at all. he breaks the kiss just to breathe, his forehead resting against yours, both of you panting. you don’t waste another second before kissing him again.
he groans approvingly at your eagerness, kissing you back with even more intensity. his hands slide down to your ass, gripping and lifting you up against him. you wrap your legs around his waist instinctively, and he walks you backwards until your back hits a large tree. “mine,” he breathes against your lips between kisses. “all mine.”
you whine softly at his words and begin to grind yourself against him, making neteyam’s eyes roll back.
he presses you harder against the tree, his hips moving in rhythm with yours. he kisses you deeper, more aggressively, the sound of your moans driving him wild. “fuck…”
his hard length strains against the thin fabric of his loincloth, pressing insistently against your core. he grinds against you harder, letting you feel every inch of him. his kisses become more urgent, more desperate as he presses against you.
soft whimpers and moans escape your lips, making his mind turn hazy with lust. one hand slides down to grip your thigh tighter, pulling you even closer as he thrusts his erection against you. “you like that? like feeling me against you?”
you nod frantically. “yes… yes, i love it.”
his hand slides under your top, his palm finding your breast. he groans at the softness of it, squeezing gently before pinching your nipple between his fingers. he continues to grind against you, the friction almost too much to bear through the thin fabric of your loincloth.
his pupils dilate as he lifts your top up, baring your breasts to him. he immediately captures one in his mouth, sucking and biting gently while his other hand plays with the other nipple. his hips never stop moving against you, the friction driving both of you crazy.
you cry out, your fingers tangling in his hair, the feeling only spurring him on. he sucks harder on your breast, his teeth scraping gently against your sensitive peak. his hand slides down to grip your hip, pulling you even closer as he grinds his erection against your clit through your loincloth.
you could feel yourself getting close just from this, just from grinding against him, your climax building rapidly in your lower stomach. “neteyam….”
“mmm?” he hums against your breast, his hand moving between your legs to put pressure right on your clit over your loincloth. “you close?”
“yes… yes im so close… please-“
at your plea, he freezes, his body going perfectly still against yours. he sees the frustration and unfulfilled desire in your eyes and smirks mischievously. instead of continuing to move against you, he pulls back, breaking the delicious friction, making you whimper in protest.
before you could ask why he stopped— he dropped to his knees in one fluid motion, his hands gripping your hips. your loincloth is soaked through with your arousal, and the sight makes his cock twitch with need. he looks up at your frustrated, turned-on face.
his hands untie your loincloth slowly, letting it fall to the ground and revealing your pussy to him. he swallows hard, his self-control hanging by a thread. instead of immediately diving in like he wants to, he spreads your legs wider and blows cool air over your core.
“neteyam, please…” you breathed out.
he smirks up at you and leans in, nuzzling his nose against your clit, but not touching it with his lips or tongue. “please what?” he teases, his breath hot against you.
“you know what.”
“say it.” he demands, his voice rough with desire. he leans in closer, his lips hovering just inches away from where you need him most.
“i want you to eat me out.” you said, past the point of embarrassment.
a grin spreads across his face at your words. without warning, he dips his head forward and runs his tongue along your slit, tasting you. he pulls back immediately, leaving you wanting more. “like that?”
“more… please…”
he chuckles at your plea, spreading you wider with his thumbs. he presses a gentle kiss to your clit, sucking it lightly between his lips before letting it pop out. he repeats the action a few times, driving you wild with need. “more what?” his voice is muffled against your pussy.
you groaned in frustration. you didn’t reply, instead gripping his hair tightly and pushing him between your legs, keeping him there.
he groans against you at the sudden action. he stops teasing and dives in, his tongue swirling around your clit before sucking it hard into his mouth. his hands grip your thighs tightly as he eats you out with fierce hunger.
you threw your head back against the tree, your legs shaking against his shoulders.
feeling you tremble against him makes him eat you out even more aggressively. one of his hands leaves your thigh to slide two fingers inside of you, pumping them in time with his sucking.
you cried out as he hit that spot inside of you, your grip tightening on his hair “fuck…”
he curls his fingers inside you, hitting that spot repeatedly while his tongue flicks your clit rapidly. your taste is intoxicating, and the sound of your voice crying out in pleasure is driving him mad. he groans possessively, knowing he's the one making you fall apart like this.
you were already so close from that edge he had denied you. “dont stop…” you pleaded.
he doesn't stop, his fingers and tongue working in a relentless rhythm. he feels your walls start to flutter around his fingers, your breath hitching as you get closer to the edge.
he doubles down his efforts, sucking your clit harder and pressing down on that sensitive spot inside you with his fingers.
he groans against your pussy as you start to come, your juices flowing down his chin, a broken moan escaping you.
he keeps licking and sucking gently as you ride out your orgasm, not wanting to stop until every last shudder leaves your body.
when you finally go limp against the tree, he slowly pulls his fingers out and gives your clit one last kiss before sitting back on his heels.
he watches you with heated eyes as you crawl towards him, joining him on the ground, his face and chin glistening. he smirks at your disheveled state, loving how you look completely wrecked from his mouth.
you lean forward and kiss him deeply, tasting yourself on his tongue.
he kisses you back eagerly, his hands wrapping around to grip your ass possessively. he breaks the kiss to trail open-mouthed kisses down your neck, marking you with hickeys. “lay back,” he murmurs.
you lay down on the ground, the moss providing a cushion against your back. neteyam positions himself between your legs and kisses you deeply, his hard length straining painfully against the fabric of his loincloth.
you bring your hand down and palm him through his loincloth, rubbing and squeezing gently.
he hisses at your touch, his head falling back as you touch him through the thin fabric. he’s so hard it's painful, his length throbbing against your hand. he covers your hand with his own, pressing it harder against him. “fuck...”
he lifts his hips slightly to give you better access as you start to undo the knots of his loincloth. his cock springs free, slapping against his stomach. he watches you through heavy-lidded eyes as you wrap your hand around him, stroking gently.
“please..” you breathed out. “i need you…”
he smiles down at you, loving your desperate state. he leans down to kiss you roughly, biting your bottom lip as he positions himself at your entrance. he rubs his tip against your slit, spreading your wetness around but not entering you.
his tip catches your clit, making both of you moan softly. he repeats the action a few more times, circling it slowly with the head of his cock before rubbing it up and down your slit, never pushing inside. “what do you need?”
“i need you inside of me, please…”
he smirks and pushes the head of his cock inside you just an inch, then pulls back out immediately. he does it again, pushing in a bit deeper this time before withdrawing. “how bad do you want it?” he asks hoarsely.
you sighed in frustration, taking the initiative to grab his cock and sink yourself down on it.
he moans loudly as you suddenly sink down on him, taking him to the hilt in one smooth motion. his hands fly to your hips, gripping them tightly as he buries his face in your neck, biting down on your skin. “fuck...” he breathes out roughly, his cock pulsing inside you.
he stays still inside you, letting you adjust to his size. he fills you completely, stretching you wide around him. he kisses your neck softly, his hands rubbing your hips and thighs gently.
“move.” you command softly.
at your command, he begins to move his hips slowly, sliding his length in and out of you with deliberate slowness. he wants to draw this out, to make you feel every inch of him. he lifts your legs to wrap around his waist, opening you up wider for him. as he does, his cock grazes that spot inside you that makes you see stars. “like that?”
“yes… just like that…” you whined.
he finds that spot again, hitting it with each thrust. he watches your face intently, loving the way your eyes roll back and your mouth falls open in pleasure. he leans down to capture your lips in a deep kiss, swallowing your moans as he continues to hit that sweet spot inside you.
he pulls back suddenly. “open your mouth.” he commands.
you obey immediately, opening for him, tongue sticking out. he then pulls back and spits into your mouth. your eyes widen at the dirty gesture, but it turns you on even more. you swallow eagerly, your eyes never leaving his. he starts thrusting harder, the wet sounds of skin slapping against skin filling the air.
he kisses you messily after making you swallow his spit, his tongue pushing into your mouth aggressively. “mine. you’re fucking mine.” he growls against your lips, pounding into you harshly. “say it.” he demands roughly.
“im yours, neteyam.” you gasped out.
he grins at your submission, loving the way your voice hitches when you say his name. he leans down to bite your neck hard as he continues to thrust inside you, marking you possessively. “yes, yes you are…”
you raked your nails down his back, hard enough to draw blood.
he hisses in pleasure as you mark him back, his eyes flashing with desire. he loves that you’re claiming him just as he's claiming you. his abs contract with each powerful thrust, sweat beading on his chest. “touch yourself.” he orders gruffly.
you go down and find your clit, rubbing it with your finger in time with his thrusts.
he groans loudly as he watches you play with your clit, his pace becoming more erratic as he sees you pleasure yourself while he fucks you. he grabs your hand and shoves it away, replacing it with his own fingers. “let me do it,” he growls.
he starts rubbing your clit in fast, firm circles with his thumb, his cock still pounding inside you. the dual stimulation is overwhelming, and you can feel an intense orgasm building deep within you. he leans down to bite and suck on your nipples roughly while continuing to rub your clit.
“neteyam, fuck, im close.” you breathed out, your climax building rapidly.
he can feel you tightening around his cock, squeezing him deliciously. he speeds up his thrusts, hammering into you with abandon. his thumb presses harder against your clit, rubbing it relentlessly. “come for me.” he commands breathlessly. “let me feel it.” he bites down on your collarbone as he feels you clench around him.
his words push you over the edge and you come with a cry, your orgasm ripping through you.
your climax triggers his own, and he buries himself deep inside you with a loud moan as he comes, pumping you full of his release. he keeps rubbing your clit gently through your orgasm, drawing it out until you're oversensitive and twitching.
he stays inside you for a moment, his face buried in your neck as he catches his breath. his cock jerks inside you with each pulse, filling you even more. “look at me.” he says gruffly.
when your eyes meet his, he cups your face with one hand, his expression serious yet tender. he leans down and kisses you, more gentle now. “you belong to me,” he whispers against your lips. “you’re all mine.” he strokes your cheek softly, the possessiveness in his tone mixed with genuine affection. “say it again.”
“i’m yours, neteyam. im all yours.”
his eyes soften at your words, and he kisses you again. he pulls out of you slowly, watching as some of his release spills out.
you reach down and spread it inside you with your fingers, making him groan approvingly at the sight. he grabs your hand and brings it to his mouth, sucking your fingers clean of his cum.
he wraps his arms around you, pulling you close against his chest. he rests his cheek on top of your head, one hand stroking your hair gently as he catches his breath. “you’re everything to me.” he murmurs softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. he rolls you both onto your sides, keeping you pressed against him.
he holds you tightly and closes his eyes contentedly, savoring the feeling of you in his arms. his hand continues to gently brush your hair, occasionally planting soft kisses onto your head or shoulder.
“we should clean up now…” you suggest.
he shakes his head. “in a minute,” he murmurs, holding you tighter. “i want to stay like this for a bit longer.”
you smiled softly and listened to his heart beating steadily under your ear, feeling completely content and at peace.
In this Choose Your Own Adventure, Eywa’s voice guides your every step. Unfortunately, it becomes much harder to listen when Neteyam Sully is involved...
Neteyam x Fem!Reader
Choose Your Own Adventure
🔗 READ/PLAY HERE
🎮interactive fanfic "Prophetess of Eywa" by desertmaraj
📖 Episode 3 of ?
a/n: just a little something to get the blog going. not the first avatar fic i've written, just the first that i've actually completed. also first time writing on tumblr so sorry if the format isn't good.
Neteyam sighed for the umpteenth time. He dragged a hand over his face with a tired frustration of a man who has lived through the same ridiculousness over and over again.
Once again, someone had stolen his wife.
He had left you sitting in the center of your shared kelku briefly, only to return to empty space and still air.
Without a second thought he marched through the worn pathway that he had followed too often for his liking in a single week. Each step betrayed the frustration that sat heavy on his bones but came to a stop when he reached his destination.
There, on the floor of his family's kelku, sat you and Lo'ak dipping freshly carved beads into dye and laying them out to dry.
Neteyam's shadow fell over the workspace.
"Really?"
You looked up and gave him a wry smile. A half apology and a half 'what did you expect'.
Lo'ak didn't twitch, just simply kept his focus on the task in front of him. Neteyam's mouth tightened into a thin line; one that said he was trying very hard to hold himself back. His anger filled the room with a thickness that made your movements slow but Lo'ak simply ignored it, the calm air around him repelling the daggers that were shot his way. Your eyes darted back and forth as you sat in the middle of the familiar dance between temperaments that you have been a spectator to for many years.
The silence lasted seconds that felt like days and nights coming and going. Eventually Lo'ak turned his gaze, finally looking away from the bead between his fingers and onto his brother who was wound so tightly he looked like he would snap in half.
"You mind?" Lo'ak said "you're blocking our light"
You pursed your lips as Neteyam grit his teeth. You turned away in an attempt to hide the subtle shake of your shoulders. Neteyam noticed anyway. He turned his ire onto you.
"This is funny to you?" His eyes narrowed. You looked down with a poorly hidden smile. "All i ask is for one—one day with my mate by my side, completely. One day without her being taken from me. And here you are, laughing at my misery" he leveled you with a stern look
"Dramatic much.." Lo'ak muttered, now grinding roots for more dye.
Neteyam snapped his head towards him.
"You" he pointed like a teacher scolding a rowdy child "Go.Away. Go back to the reef and leave her alone"
"Neteyam" you tried, but he ignored you.
"You're so possessive bro" Lo'ak raised a judging brow "No wonder she keeps running away"
"She is not running away, skxawng. She is just too nice to say no"
"Whatever helps you sleep at night"
Neteyam opened his mouth to retort but you stepped in "Ma 'teyam, do not be so mad. Lo'ak just needed help for today. You will have me tomorrow"
He scoffed "You say that now but tomorrow, if it's not this idiot, then it's someone else snatching you up"
"That's not true"
"Yesterday it was Tuk wanting to play by the river"
"Tuk is a child"
"The day before it was Kiri making you help grind herbs in the healers tent"
"Everyone else was busy"
"The day before that, it was my mother forcing you to bead a new curtain"
"I offered"
"Y/n "
"Neteyam"
Neteyam closed his eyes and took a deep, steadying breath. He felt like he was on the cusp of combusting into flames. The heat that swelled in his chest was suffocating.
"What’s all this?"
Neteyam jumped slightly at the hand now resting on his shoulder.
"I'm helping Lo'ak dye beads to carry back for Tsireya" you answered, happy for the change in conversation.
Jake hummed, eyes raking over the carefully lined beads that air dried. He crouched down to inspect it closer. "Looks good"
"Great, dad can help you now. Come (Y/n)" Neteyam beckoned, already half turned for you to follow.
At the questioning look on Jake's face Lo'ak supplied "He's just pissy she wants to hang out with me and not him"
"You—!"
"Y/n!" Tuk came rushing in, bypassing Neteyam completely and hopping right to the space next to you
"Tuk tuk!" You cooed, squishing her cheek against yours
She giggled "Y/n, we have to go to the river! Now! Spider said he saw viperwolf pups nearby and I want to see them" she yanked at your arm, try to lift you from the ground.
"Hey!" Lo'ak's brows furrowed "She can't. She's helping me with something"
Tuk stuck her tongue out at him.
"Hey (Y/n)" Kiri waltzed in "Can you come with me to the mountains? Mo'at needs dapophet pods"
"No! Y/n's coming with me!" Tuk's ears flattened.
"What? No way, she's already busy. Go by yourself" Lo'ak grumbled
"Umm.." Jake mumbled sheepishly "I actually needed her help to string some bows.." they all turned to him ".. your mother's busy and (Y/n)'s good at it"
"You've got to be kidding me"
"You can't be serious right now"
"All of you suck"
Everyone devolved into chaos. Voices climbed and teeth were bared. You sat there stunned by the whole ordeal, not knowing who to comfort and who to scold. Truthfully you didn't mind helping them all but knowing them, everything was a competition to be won and a tie would make them moan and groan, so you just kept silent. You forgot about Neteyam's presence until he made himself known again.
"That's it, I've had enough!" With lighting speed, Neteyam lifted you up and tossed you over his shoulder like a woven sack. You gasped, instinctively wiggling to escape his hold but it was no use, his grip was too strong. The rest of the family protested as he left without a word.
You hung uselessly as he stalked back to your kelku.
"You are not leaving my side ever again" he huffed.
You sighed, accepting your fate.
Lo'ak was right, he is dramatic.
a/n: i've got tons of stuff in the works just fyi. it'll probaly just take forever for me to finish them and be actually satisfied enough to post.
not too proud of this, but i wrote it and thought might aswell post it.
Summary: Tamtey makes a reckless decision in order to prove herself to the clans elders, but So’lek has to save her. The tension could’ve been cut with a knife but it was cut by confessions instead.
Warnings: contains smut.
Authors Note:
hey guys! I’m posting a link to my Ao3 series here! Starting with Look At Me When You Lie. This is a massive series (100k+ words) that I poured my soul into. I hope you enjoy!
The first three works are relatively domestic with pretty tame Smut, but once you hit the story A Path Unfolding, it gets into heavy themes.
✫—————————————✫
“I was testing you.”
She gave a brittle, humorless breath of a laugh. “By letting them assume I wasn’t capable?”
The bandage tightened around her arm. He pulled it a fraction harder than necessary. She hissed through her teeth but did not flinch away.
“I was forcing you to act without seeking my approval,” he said.
“Well,” she shot back, her tail giving an agitated snap against the roots behind her, “you succeeded.”
Graphic depictions of violence, interrogation by Torture, primal kink, hurt/comfort, knotting, sexual overstimulation, idk what else I wrote so much omg
Summary: You were brought into the TAP program 6 years before Jake Sully waged war and ran the RDA off of the planet. You had thought the Sarentu kids you watched grow up were dead. 15 years later, a second chance to give them the freedom they deserve arises as well as secrets that were kept hidden.
Word count: 9.5K
Trope: Tolerates one another to understands each other to lovers ig
Warning: mentions and mild descriptions of chronic(?) pain, mentioned survivors guilt, poor choice in words, some swearing, more than likely medical inaccuracies (sorry mom), described death/killing
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Na’vi Dictionary:
‘Eylan - Friend
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A/N: yall, i severely underestimated how much a new environment would impact my ability to form cohesive thoughts. I’m hoping to be back in the groove of things here in the next week or two. Part 7 is prob going to be a bit heavy hitting so there’s that to look forward to.
❁ <- Previous ❁ Next -> ❁
❁ TSMUKE ❁
It feels like you’ve been sitting here for hours, “Nalin, this really isn’t necessary. I’m fine, see?” You wave your hand in front of her face. “Everything moves properly, no pain.”
Her head jerks back slightly at the sudden movement before giving you a small glare. “You nearly died in that explosion. It’s barely been two weeks since your transfer. And you haven’t let anyone hardly touch you since the first week. And now, I have to force you to sit down for more than five minutes to actually check in on your health that, need I remind you, you’re still obviously neglecting. And you only let me do bits and pieces of my actual work up. So yeah, no, you’re getting looked over whether you want me to or not.” She smacks the back of your hand down as she turns her attention back to her tests.
Her pen light blinds you momentarily as she checks pupillary response; good. Fingers snap loud and close to your ears, making you wince. Nalin hums slightly, jotting it down in the new records she’d made for you. Said that now that you didn’t go back and forth she’d have to log things a bit differently.
She makes you open your mouth, yawn, extend your tongue out while shining her pen light to the back of your throat. All normal movement and coloring. Her fingers ghost under your jaw then down your throat, noting no changes, no lumps, or sore spots. She then pauses, reaching behind her.
Cool metal rests on your skin, “Breathe in and out, slow and steady.” In through your nose. Out through your mouth. Front and back. Breath pulls in so deep it almost makes you cough before slowly pushing it back out. She has you do that four more times before she’s satisfied. Lung sounds; good. Clear, soft, even.
Your eyebrows knit together a bit when she turns around, bottom lip curling lightly in against your teeth. A dull ache had welcomed you when you’d woken up this morning. You’d done everything you could to ignore it, to make it go away. You subtly press your fingers just above your knee while Nalin writes down in her notes, quickly pulling away when she turns back to you.
Her fingers press the warmed end solidly against your chest, moving around a few inches every now and then. Left, right, small shifts lower and out, then your back. She forces you to be quiet, fingers pressed into the pulse point on your wrist at the same time. Nalin adjusts her hold a couple times, pressing the metal firmly around your sternum and back, eyebrows pinched as she listens.
Nalin finally pulls the stethoscope away, sitting back while wrapping it around the back of her neck. “Your heart’s a little fast, have you been dizzy lately? Any sudden weakness or feeling extra tired?”
You shake your head, catching Ri’nela in the corner of your eye trying to look like she wasn’t listening in. “No, nothing like that. Or anything else, like I told you.” There’s no hiding the exasperation in your voice, “Seriously Nalin, this is a waste of time. There’s so much to get done after the destruction Mercer caused in the Upper Plains. To prepare for. We still have to figure out what he’s planning next.”
Nalin throws her hands up in frustration, “You cannot keep pushing off your health. One day you’re going to make yourself collapse and then what? ‘Oh, sorry Nalin. Wow, I didn’t see this coming. I’ll listen to you next time, I promise.’” Her voice pitches in irked mockery, not hiding her worry.
You greet her frustration with a flat look, “Nalin, you’ve been checking me every day for almost a week now. If anything was going to happen, it would have already.”
She almost agrees with you, you can see the internal battle she’s having with herself. Then she shakes the thought free before it takes root, “No, this won’t take that long. And I’ve barely been able to check you anyway.”
A groan tumbles out as your slouch forward, “We’ve been at this forever.”
“It would’ve been done already if you would just sit still and let me do my work.” She holds out her hand, waiting. Reluctantly you sit back up, giving her your hand. She makes you curl your fingers, bend your wrist then elbow. Then, reaching as high up as you could, front then back. Repeating it on the other side. Moving both together. She moves briefly to press along your spine and shoulder blades before sitting back down.
Fingers push against your abdomen, then move on. Along your sides, from ribs down to your hips, turning to write down more. Nalin continued her prodding, working her way around your hip bones to your legs. Making you straighten one knee, rolling your ankle and flexing your foot. Then the other knee, rinse and repeat.
You did your best to hide the discomfort when you extended your left knee. Ignored the slight burning that flared when you rolled your ankle. Pushed down the pulsing that ricocheted from your knee down to your toes. Hoping that you’d be able to get through Nalin’s exam without her noticing.
Nalin notices something’s off, of course she does. “Yo u sure you’re feeling okay? You don’t look so hot.”
Teasing words quickly mask the pain, “Wow, way to tear a girl down, doc.”
She gives you a flat look, “That’s not what I meant and you know it.” Her face softens slightly, worry etched plainly on her face. “Seriously, you don’t have to hide it if something’s bothering you. You’ve had a lot of trauma happen to your body, your mind.” She sighs, thinking over those last words. “I can’t begin to imagine what all of that could possibly do to someone’s psyche.”
A small seed of dread plants itself into your brain, worried if she keeps prodding that you’ll tell her everything. So instead, you play it off. “Nalin, I am fine. I promise you, look.” You do some exaggerated stretching, proving your body is ‘fine’. That you are ‘fine’. “See? Couldn’t be better physically, even if I tried.”
Nalin just watches you, lips pursed. “And mentally?”
You look away shrugging, “I’ve been worse.” That was the most honest you’ve been all morning. “But I’m not in a bad spot. Not right now.” Even more truth.
You can tell you haven’t quite convinced her but she humors you and lets it go. Her hand pats gently on your throbbing knee, unaware of the sharp needle-like sensation that follows every light tap. “I can only help if you allow me to. If something changes, and I mean anything changes at all, you let me know. Okay?” She cracks a smile, trying to copy your normally light attitude towards things, “Besides, we can’t have your ‘new’ body failing just because you decided to neglect your health. Not after all that work to keep you here after all.”
Quick to latch onto the change in atmosphere, you give her a two finger salute. “Yes, ma’am.”
Nalin just shakes her head, turning and shooing you away. “Go away, I have work to do.”
Teeth clench hard when you stand up, glad that no one is currently watching you. “See ya later, doc.”
“And don’t call me that. That was Hajir’s title.”
You call back over your shoulder, “Hate to break it to you, Nalin. But you are the doc now. Better get used to it.”
Steady, painful steps guide you to the airlock. Every third step sends strong waves of sudden sparks shooting up and down from your knee, making your steps stutter. Just enough to notice if someone was paying attention.
Hot, sharp, burning. The sensations rotated, rolling out further with each step. Stronger with every movement, making your teeth grind, swallowing pained sounds. There’s a brief reprieve when the airlock closes behind you, blocking any potentially watching eyes from your small agony.
Allowing a few moments to acknowledge your pain, bending down and pushing your fingers into your knee again. Willing the pain to fizzle down into something manageable. Something no one would look twice at. The pressure does help to an extent, pain lessening around each finger tip painted light blue from the kneading force against the offending joint. Though, it doesn’t last long.
Hands quickly pull away and back snaps straight as the airlock hisses open, forcing you to put back on a brave face. Eyes scan the various faces in the outer cave before you force yourself forward again. Thankfully, most seemed to be fully engaged in whatever conversations they were already in, worries being passed around. Not even giving you and your slight limp the time of day. Perfect.
Your pace is slower than it normally is as you make your way to the back stairs, knuckles paling significantly when you finally grab the railing. You take no notice of observant eyes tucked into a corner. Not noticing how they watched you hobble slightly up each step. How you used the railing as a crutch to continue on and up out of sight.
A cramp was forming in your hand by the time you let go of the railing, choosing instead to drag your palm along the cave wall. It was cool to the touch, comforting against warmed skin. If it wasn’t for everyone inside you might’ve just sunk down right there against the wall. But there were people inside, a lot of people. People who would make this whole thing into a bigger deal then it needed to be.
So you pushed on, out the mouth of the cave, up the small hill to the small cliff side. Away from prying eyes and pushy questions. Hiding behind small saplings, just starting to grow tall enough to obscure you from view if you sat down.
Thirty minutes. You got thirty minutes of peace before snapping twigs disrupt fingers aching from persistently massaging your knee. Ears twist around already picking up on the familiar footsteps. A small teasing smile pulls at your lips, leaning back on your hands, giving your fingers a break. “Did you come to bother me?”
A short grunt sounds beside you as he lowers to join you, knee close enough to bump yours if he wanted. “Something is wrong.” Ah, so he saw. Of course he did. There was no use in ignoring him, you’d learned a while ago he would not drop things. Even when asked sometimes.
Your tail lashes in short bursts behind you unconsciously, brushing through tickling grass. “Promise you won’t tell anyone?”
So’lek doesn’t answer for a moment, eyes locked down on the slightly purple knee you’d just been kneading. “Yes.”
A small pause drapes over you, searching for the words and the courage to say them. Hands plant firmly next to you, lifting your legs and turning to face him, feet tucked under bent knees. The shift in movement clearly shocks him for a second, brow raising just a touch before he turns too. One leg still hanging over the edge, the other tucked up, foot under knee. A deep breath, “It’s my leg.”
His eyes flick down again, purple slightly more faded than a minute ago. “Does it hurt?”
“Sort of.”
So’lek is quiet as he processes your words, confused and trying to understand. “What do you mean?”
A small breath is sighed out, face scrunching slightly as you think of a way to explain everything. “Do you remember what I looked like after the bombing? The way I was hurt?”
“I try not to."
Lips purse fully unamused, “I’m trying to be serious right now.”
“As am I. It is not a fond memory to remember.”
Your eyes flick down a deep sigh leaving you. You hadn’t thought about it like that. Of course seeing allies hurt or killed wasn’t great to remember. “Sorry, I just.. When I was like that something was missing, right? A part of me.”
He doesn’t answer but you know he knows exactly what you’re referring to. Your missing leg. “I might not have been conscious during that, but that doesn’t mean my mind was unaware.” Fingers scratch through loose braids beneath your ear before sliding down to rest in your lap. “Humans call it phantom pain. Normally it happens when a limb is severed. The mind forgets the limb is gone and just remembers the pain it felt when the limb was removed.”
A small chuckle to lighten the mood doesn’t quite work, but it eases something inside you regardless. “It’s like my mind forgets that the body that lost that limb is dead.” Fingers move to your left knee, planting your foot to bring it up into view. “I feel pain here. Sometimes sharp and shooting like lightning, other times dull and hot, like my leg is on fire from the knee down.”
“Is there a cure?” His voice pulls your eyes away from the offending limp, head rocking lightly side to side.
“Yes and no. Sometimes just reminding the mind that it’s still there helps; looking, touching. Walking around barefoot has been helping with that some. But there’s things we can’t do. Medicines we can’t replicate the same, therapies. I mean, we could probably try to find local replacements but,” your palm wraps around your kneecap letting the heat seep in slowly. “I don’t want the others to know, not yet at least. There’s too much to do and with everything that’s happened in the last couple of weeks, we need all hands on deck.”
So’lek is quietly listening, soft and attentive. “You are telling me.”
You nod holding his gaze, “I trust you. You’ve done so much for me, so much that I didn’t deserve.” So’lek makes a move to interrupt you but stops when you raise your hand. “There was no reason for you to help me the way you did. The things you did, helped and guided me through. It was kind. A kindness that I will repay one day.”
“There is no need.”
Shoulders raise, head tilted to look over the trees. An almost teasing look sent from the corner of your eyes. “Maybe not, but I’m still going to.”
Your attention slowly drifts over the tree tops, watching birds flock in the distance. Kite manta float slowly through the branches, carefree. So’lek watches you, studies the smile dancing on your lips. The way your eyes soften when you find something pretty in the distance. Observing the small jump in your eyebrows and shoulders when something bursts between distant trunks, animals playing or hunting. Living. He doesn’t want to break your peace, but the need for something else was stronger. “Does it hurt now?”
A light hum pairs with your words. “A little,” you curl your fingers a bit to shake some stiffness free. “But I gotta give my fingers a break. Or they might lock up when I need to do something later.”
His hand extends, palm up. A silent offer. “Let me.”
You study him, head shaking at his sudden offer. “So’lek, I can’t-.”
Fingers brush lightly against your calf, eyes steady. “I am offering to help. Give your fingers a break, let me.” He waits, moving only when you nod lightly, fingers wrapping under your knee to pull you a bit closer. You do an awkward shimmy as he lays your leg flat over his lap, waiting for you to settle first.
You knew he would be gentle, his actions over the last few weeks had solidified that knowledge. That doesn’t stop the small reaction to how soft his touch was. Fingers gingerly pressed above and below your knee, moving in small circles. “Is this too hard?” His words snap your attention from his hands, a light flush crawling up your neck.
“No, it feel nice.” He nods, palms flattening some against your leg. Letting the heat from them settle down through muscle into the bone, easing more tension. It really did feel nice.
___
Nose crinkles slightly as you squint, eyes scanning the sky line and ignoring the bright sunlight beating down on the abandoned site. The rifle’s strap digs uncomfortably into your shoulder, metal warm against your hip. A constant reminder of what could happen and a welcome weight, if you were being truthful.
You can hear Priya muttering behind you. Can hear the others working as quickly as they could. If you were being honest, you’d been torn about coming out here. Between Priya’s earlier comments during the rush, ‘No one would blame you or think badly if you needed more time’. And Anqa’s not so subtle questioning, ‘You sure you’re good to go? Nalin gave the okay?’.
A small part of you knew they were right, knew that no one would look at you differently. That didn’t change the fact that you being here, out where anything could happen, was important. Not just for you, but for the others to see that you weren’t something the RDA had broken. That you were still in this fight with everyone else. Also didn’t change the fact you’d almost smacked the both of them upside the back of the head for their comments. There was no way you were going to let them risk their necks while you sat back.
And there was another matter playing a factor in all of this. Time. Of course it would’ve been great to have more time. More time to process everything that’s happened, more time to deal with personal issues. But time was a luxury. One that you, and anyone else, couldn’t settle into anymore. There had been enough time to wallow, enough time to process the immediate issues. And there would be time after. Time you could use however you needed.
But for right now you needed to step back into place and step up where everyone needed you to be. Step up where others had failed and were no longer trusted. That was more important now than ever as Mercer’s shadow continued to grow and cover this land.
A familiar cry fills the air, accompanied by heavy wings touching down and soft familiar steps. Your lips twitch, hand raising to block the beating light behind the welcomed shadow. “Took you long enough.”
A small scoff, “I was a little preoccupied, Keke.”
“That sounds like an excuse.”
Tamtey just shrugs, “It’s the truth. I’ve been pretty busy as of late.”
Your hand drops to poke at his stomach, feeling a small swat on your knuckles. “Right, yes, of course. Can’t demand too much of our local diplomat lest you fly away before I can say three words to you.”
You watch him straighten slightly at the title, pleased to be seen as such. To fill that role his people held for so long. Then his expression shifts to the gravity of the situation. “Priya called, said it was bad.”
All notes of teasing leave your face. Pri was right, this whole situation was bad, really bad. “It is. It’s really bad, Tamtey. She’s up on the platform there.” Tamtey goes to move then pauses, eyeing you a bit too closely. “Seriously, go on.”
What little hesitation that held him back vanished, “You’re feeling okay?”
You smile, hands gesturing up and down, “Never been better, Tam. Now go before Anqa’s distraction wears off.”
Tamtey’s hand reaches out, squeezing yours before going to see how he could help. You wait until he’s fully out of ear shot before sucking a hiss in between your teeth. While So’lek had helped immensely earlier, there was still a dull lingering pain that would flash when you moved too quickly.
Frustration fills you, from your toes up to your eyes. This had to stop. You had to get this under control before more people started to notice. It was bad enough you’d actually told So’lek earlier, while leaving others in the dark. And you were sure Nalin and Tamtey were getting close to seeing through your lies too.
You just had to hold on long enough to stop Mercer and Harding. Once they were gone, wiped fully from this world, then you could relax. Divulge the pains you’d kept hidden under noses and take the verbal lashing from your friends and family.
Yeah, once you had your family back.
___
You find him crouching in front of the memorial wall, same time he always did. Bitter regret and guilt sits low in your stomach as you watch him from the airlock. You knew he wouldn’t be upset with you, not for any of the things you’d decided you were guilty of. Though that didn’t stop the small quiet voice inside.
If you’d just been a little faster in recognizing something was wrong. If you hadn’t been so wrapped up in your own problems. If you hadn’t been so blind to the growing issue, had been able to help Priya warn people, then maybe the lives lost would’ve been halved. Maybe you wouldn’t have to watch friends mourn loved ones that could have been saved that night.
Quiet steps lead you over, crouching down next to him. “Hey, Jin.”
He doesn’t look over to you, eyes glued where they were each and every time. “Hey.” Nothing else is said for a while, both of you just looking. Remising the lives you’d known. The lives that were no longer there. Reliving pain. Learning to put it away. He breaks the silence first, “You know, I’m glad you’re okay. Sorry I haven’t said anything until now.”
“I’m sorry, Jin. If I hadn’t been so spaced out, if I’d paid just a little more attention.. things might’ve been different.”
“You can’t blame yourself, you know that.” He elbows you lightly to draw your eyes over, “Besides, Dani would’ve hated it if she knew you were blaming yourself.”
He was right. If there was anything Dani was known for it was stopping ‘the BS’ in its tracks. Those were the exact words she’d use. The thought makes you smile. It’s all too easy to picture. She’d stand in front of you, pointing and wagging her finger to prove her point. ‘There’s nothing you could’ve done to change the outcome. What’s the point in shouldering blame that was never yours to begin with?’
“She was really good at calling people out for shouldering too much, wasn’t she?”
Jin shakes his head, “Yeah, Dani was good at it. Really good. I once told her, in another life, she would’ve made a half decent therapist.”
The thought of Dani sitting in a chair all prim and proper while people pay her to help work through their problems amuses you way too much. So much that it makes you laugh. Hard. Like one hand to your stomach and the other resting on the cave wall to balance yourself kinda hard. “Dani? A therapist?”
“She laughed when I said it too. Said she wasn’t made to listen to people’s problems just call ‘em out.” A smile tugs at his lips, remembering the face she’d pulled when he’d said it. The absolute dumbfounded smile of someone who knows they’re talking to someone half stupid for even suggesting the idea. “Still, maybe with different life experiences. I could maybe see it.”
“Oh yea, she’d push some big ‘ole glasses up her nose and click her pen. Telling people exactly what they should say to family that screws them over.” You finally control a bit of your laughter, “She would’ve never taken anyone seriously enough to give good advice or actual guidance. She was way too much of a tough love kinda gal.”
That pulls a quiet laugh from Jin, the situation all too easy to picture. “Can you imagine her just chucking the notepad when someone ultimately pisses her off?”
Eyes lock onto Dani’s photo, staring back. You can almost see the downright displeasure in her eyes at the topic. “Absolutely.”
The laughter eases into something comfortable. Something that didn’t need to be broken unless chosen. And Jin almost chooses not to, almost decides the words were unnecessary. Unwanted by both. You watch from the corner of your eye him fighting with himself. Do I? Do I not? It’s written all over his face.
Then he decides. “Don’t take this the wrong way but,” he takes a deep breath to focus emotion better. “Teylan’s done something that can’t be forgiven.” Your eyes drag over to him when he turns his head to face you. “I don’t think I could ever forgive him for this.”
You don’t respond. How were you supposed to? How could you sit there and defend his actions? His decisions. So you don’t. You let Jin sit in the betrayal, knowing it wouldn’t matter even if you did defend your youngest brother.
Some things just can’t be forgiven.
___
You’re left alone for the second half of the day, busying yourself. Pulling one rifle from the rack, pulling it apart, cleaning it, putting it back together. Then repeating. Over and over again. The repetition was nice, something to focus on that wasn’t crippling pain or guilt.
Small footsteps come up behind you, choosing to stop a few feet away, standing quietly. Eyes stay trained on the barrel you were currently cleaning, fingers curled tighter then they should’ve been. Movements jerking some under scrutinizing eyes. “What do you want?”
“You don’t have to be happy to see me but it still hurts seeing you do this to yourself.” Alma’s voice was unwelcome and unwanted. Yet, that never seemed to stop her before.
“I don’t feel anything when I see you, Alma.” Cloth pulls free, cleaner than you’d thought it’d be. “All I’m doing is making sure our equipment works, how is that a bad thing?”
“Don’t play coy with me. You forget that I’ve known you for most of your life. I know when you’re hiding things.” She has the audacity to wag her finger at you like you’re a child.
You do what you can to ignore her, clicking the bolt back in place before setting the gun back on the rack. “Is that so?” Pulling another one off and stripping it to clean.
Her voice carried over the magazine that was stuck, watching you struggle to not break it before it clicks free. “You aren’t going to just hurt yourself when you finally collapse, you’ll hurt everyone who cares about you too.”
“Oh, are you including yourself in that?” Legs shifted slightly to the right, dragging her boots into your peripheral.
“I know that I’ve been cruel to you, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you kid.”
You peek one eye down the barrel, seeing some of the buildup resting inside. “Right, I forget that you naturally threaten those you care about. My bad, I’ll do better to remember that in the future.”
“That was jealousy.” Small fragments of frustration pops through before she reigns it in. “It’s something I am trying to work on.”
Fingers twist a new rag, pushing it down the barrel. “So you knew and still chose to take it out on me. Yeah, that makes it so much better, Alma.”
“Just,” she chews on her bottom lip, clearly searching for the right words. Careful for once. “Think about the others too. The kids have lost so much already, I don’t think losing their,” the next words are laced with barbs. “I don’t think losing their sister will bode well with everything that’s happened.”
“It’s war Alma,” eyes finally rise to meet hers. “People die all the time.” You watch her long enough to make sure she understands the underlying tone in your words. This time, you were threatening her. This time, you wouldn’t have her back in a fight.
Priya’s voice breaks the tension. “Hey, we got another fissure site. We’re heading out now, if you want to come.”
Eyes still burrowing into Alma’s, “I’ll meet you guys at the Samson.”
___
You don’t hear him come up behind you. Don’t even know he was there until a hand wraps firmly around your wrist, tugging you down the worn path just out of ear shot. Ignoring the looks people give each other behind your backs. Ignoring Anqa’s warnings that you have to leave soon and your own protests.
“So’lek, what’s wrong?” He pauses, watching a herd of Meer deer run off into the brush. “So’lek, I have to go soon.”
His grip softens, fingers shifting to almost rub along your skin. Your voice helps to calm the storm starting to brew inside before he remembers why he pulled you away. Alma’s words sitting present in his mind, ‘You know something is going on with her. If she goes out now, she’s going to get herself or others hurt, maybe killed. Talk to her, So’lek, she might listen to you.’ Lingerings of people noticing something was off, that something was wrong. Saying something to him knowing that you just brush off concerns with a painted on smile.
“So’lek?”
His eyes shift down to your knee, the secret you’d shared with him just days earlier. Entrusted to him. Fingers tighten again at the thought of something happening, something far away he would not be able to help with. “The pain. You are not controlling it.”
The words visually stun you, blinking at him. “I’m doing just fine.”
“No, you are not. There are whispers, people are noticing.”
“So’lek, where is this coming from?” Your hand twists up, fingers soft against his forearm. “I’m fine, you know this. I would’ve come to you if I wasn’t.”
His hand shifts further up, thumb brushing over sensitive skin. “It is showing to those who are paying attention.”
So’lek watches the cold realization creep down your spine, tail turning stiff. “Did.. did Alma put you up to this? Did she say something to you?”
Fingers tighten, “She has said something. She is not the only one.”
Your mind struggles to wrap around his words, make sense of the fact he was trusting Alma’s judgment over yours. “So you just take her word for it? Over mine?”
“It is showing to those who are paying attention. Those that care.” Pulling you closer, hand raising to your other arm. “If this pain is persistent, if it is a genuine issue, then you cannot go.”
You jerk back in his hold, eyebrows pinched tight. “Excuse you?”
“It is not something to be ashamed of, pain is natural, a part of life. But you have to know when to listen to your body. Not go diving head first into a fight.” Palms run up your arms to your shoulders, trying to ground you. The thoughts he knows are a swirling mess inside your head. “You should stay here, where your family is. Rest and stay safe.”
“No one is safe, So’lek. You know that.” Your eyes harden, color darkening with your mood. “Do you not trust me? Do you really think I don’t know my own body? What I can and cannot handle?”
“That is not it. A few weeks ago, this was not your body. This is not something you can handle. Not now, when you are still coming to terms with everything. Finally accepting who you are now. Having these pains.. I cannot allow you to throw all of that away just to fight.”
His words hang heavy, building on the wall forming between you.
“Oh, I see now. This isn’t about the fact that no one thinks I can handle myself.” Your finger jabs into his chest, ears pinned down against your head. “This is about you still hating the fact I’m a dreamwalker, even when this wasn’t my choice.” The crack in your voice breaks something inside So’lek. “You promised me, So’lek. You promised me you wouldn’t say anything and now you’re throwing that trust back in my face.”
“I did not break that promise. Tamtey has asked multiple times now if you are truly okay, as has Ri’nela. They are not as blind as you would believe them to be. But I did not tell them the truth. I did not tell anyone who has asked.”
“No, you just confirmed to them that something is wrong though. That’s close enough.”
Fingers tighten again, pulling you closer. Trying to make you see reason. To see his side on this. Instead, his next words do nothing but cement your resolve. “Please, do not go. Stay.”
“No, So’lek, that’s not your decision to make.”Arms raise to push him off of you, the warmth from your skin lingering on his palms. “I am the only person who can decide that. Not you. Not Tamtey or Ri’nela. Not Priya or Anqa.” Your finger digs into the cool metal of his chest plate, tip turning paler with each name. “And definitely not Alma. I decide what I can handle. Me.”
His face remains controlled, still set in his thoughts. Decision made. “You are still experiencing pain, this will only get you hurt.”
A frozen moment passes, then another. Your finger, that was still pressing into his chest lifts quickly, almost brushing against his nose. “Don’t you dare say anything to Tamtey or Ri’nela. And if I find out you told Alma,” he watches how your breath shakes and your eyes turn misty. “If I find out you told that,” watches you take a shaky breath in, face scrunching in anger. “That bitch anything, then I will not forgive you. Keep the promise you made to me. The one I shared because I placed my trust in you to not turn this back around on me. To not use it to keep me on the sidelines while everyone else is out risking their lives.”
A quick push of air leaves his nose, his hand raising to push yours out of his face. “I am not-.”
“Yes, yes you are.” Your voice lowers, eyes flicking to the others loading equipment into the Samson. Getting ready to leave. “Don’t you ever talk to me like that again. I am not something to own, So’lek. To control. Speak to me like that again, and I will never speak to you again.”
So’lek feels his heart still at your words, ears twisting back. “I do not-.” He pulls in a deep breath letting the accompanying sigh push him a step back. Lets his frustration rise to yours. “You were barely standing when you came back from the last fissure site. How much longer do you think you can hide this?” His tail stiffens behind him and fingers flex to reach out again. “What do you think will happen if the RDA attacks, rains down and pins you in place?”
“There’s no reports to think we’d have any contact with the RDA. No sightings of soldiers, amps, any RDA of any kind-.”
“There is always a possibility.” His voice cuts through yours, watching your tail start to thrash back and forth. A small sense of desperation fills the air and he steps forward again, crowding in close. Close enough for his breath to wash over your face. “I do not want to see you get hurt.” His voice lowers, “Or killed.”
He hopes the words he does not say reach you, ‘I would not survive it.’
You take a step back, shrugging and shaking your head. “Then don’t look. This decision isn’t yours to make, whether you agree or not.” This time, Priya’s voice calls over asking if you were still coming. “Gimme a sec, Pri.” He doesn’t move when you go to step around him. Doesn’t try to stop you anymore. “I’m going.”
“You are.” His expression hardens back into something controlled, something unreadable, when you look at him once more over your shoulder. Every word exchanged ricocheted between you, making the bond you’d had, the trust, feel miles away. He stayed rooted in place long after you boarded the Samson. Even longer after it raised off the ground and disappeared from view.
Thoughts plaguing him with every second that passes. He should’ve insisted more. Should’ve made you see what you were doing was going to get you hurt or killed. Another thought jumps forward. Maybe he should’ve made his feelings more clear. Surely that would’ve opened your eyes to his desperation to keep you safe. Alive.
His eyes drift down from where you’d disappeared behind clouds and the mountain's edge. No, even if he’d laid out exactly where his feelings were you still would’ve gone. Still would’ve insisted on taking your place among them. It brought a small smile to his face despite his feelings on the matter. It was so undeniably.. you.
You’d better come back in one piece. Back to your family. Back to him.
___
The wind was strong today, whipping loose hairs up against your eyes. Didn’t really matter what way you turned, they were going to be in your way regardless. Sitting on the small jutted ledge, left leg dangling just above Priya and a few others gathering samples. There wasn’t supposed to be RDA activity here yet. But with them, you never knew.
Your mind was occupied, thoughts drifting far away from the plains. From the friends you were meant to be watching over. Too wrapped up in the conversation, the argument, you’d had earlier. Consumed by the fact that So’lek seemed to have so little trust in your judgement. To place more value in Alma’s thoughts over your own. It left a deep pit sitting in your stomach.
If he had just talked to you about it, talked to you about concerns he clearly had. Had told you he was worried instead of demanding you sit off on the sides. Choosing to see you as this weak thing that couldn’t handle anything.
You’d thought he had more faith in you, in your abilities. Had thought after all this time, after fighting side by side, that he would’ve trusted you more. Had thought.. had thought he was starting to like you. He’d been so gentle with you, had been opening up and willing to spend his free time with you. Sit and talk with you. Even though you were in this body now, you’d thought he didn’t care about that.
Clearly you’d been wrong.
Low, chopped whirring cuts through the air dragging you to the present. Eyes watch the slow moving bird cutting through the sky. That’s not a good sign. “Hey, Pri?”
At first all you get is a noncommittal hum, much too distracted. It takes another prodding of her name to get her attention, “Yeah?”
You jerk your head up, pointing. “I think we got company.”
She follows your finger pointing at a wyvern flying by, too close for comfort. “I think we’re fine. They should be high enough to not see us.”
Your eyes stay locked on the aircraft, almost certain it looks like it’s slowing down. “I don’t think so, Pri.”
You’re quick to jump down, peaking out under the large rock to get a better look. Yeah, no, they were definitely slowing down. “Maybe, they’ve finished their route and are heading back?” Her radio crackles, “Tamtey? Oh, yeah things are going great. We should be heading back soon. Oh, that? Just a patrol that passed overhead, but they should be too far to see us-.” Immediately the aircraft turns around, mocking her and making her eat her words. “Yeah, no, they’re turning around.”
Words said earlier are heard again, echoing at the edges of your mind. ‘What do you think will happen if the RDA attack?’
“Quick everyone hide!” Priya rounds the others up, grabbing what equipment they could drag inside the small cave with them. The sound of rotors getting closer makes them move faster. Priya is the last to stand in the mouth of the cave turning to you. “You coming? They’re getting closer.”
What would happen? Guess now’s the time to find out. “No, go with the others. If it comes down to it and Tamtey takes too long, I’ll give you guys time to escape and rendezvous with Anqa.”
“What? We wouldn’t leave-.”
“Kinda don’t have a choice Pri.” Your hand pushes between her shoulder blades, “Go, it’ll be fine. I promise.”
Priya looks over her shoulder before ducking into the cave, “You can’t promise that.” She was right, but it wouldn’t be smart for everyone to hide together. The whirring was getting closer and closer. You had to move, now, or they’d spot you for sure and you were not about to lead them to the others.
Cool, damp walls press uncomfortably into your back as heavy steps are carried across the wind. Amps and soldiers, maybe ten total. Static crackling is loud in your ear, pulling attention away from the soldiers walking past. “Keke, can you hear me?”
You press further back into the mouth of the cave, as an amp passes by, gun swinging to and fro aimlessly. Two soldiers flanking it on either side, talking loudly without a care. “Hey, didn’t you say you saw a blue here?”
“I don’t know, everything blends in together when you’re that high up.”
“If there is one, I call dibs.”
“Not how that works man. It’s kill or be killed. First come, first serve kinda deal.”
More static accompanies a slightly frantic voice, “Keke, are you there? What’s happening?”
Fingers raise, voice low and controlled. “RDA’s here. There aren’t many, less than a dozen.”
“Are you safe? What about the others?”
“They’re hiding, RDA hasn’t found anyone yet.”
“Can they get away? Meet up with Anqa?”
“No, their exit is cut off.” Another soldier passes by oblivious to your hiding spot. “Are you close?”
“I’ll be there soon, wait for me.”
Eyes peak out around the rock walls, following the closest patrols. “The largest rock in the middle, I’ll meet you at the base facing the cliffs.”
You press back as another soldier passes by, “Are you sure?”
“Tamtey, I won’t let them find the others. If I have to engage, I will.”
A sharp sigh makes your comms pop slightly, “Fine. Stay low and stay safe.”
“You too, keep Temek quiet and fast.”
“She always is.”
Two minutes. You allow two minutes of watching the patrol routes they establish before you go to move. Waiting, watching two soldiers pass by each other, pausing for a few moments side by side. Chatting loudly before walking in the opposite direction.
Quiet feet creep forward, one after another. Keeping as low to the ground as you possibly can be, using your hands to help shift weight through tall grass. Freezing when a soldier passes by before moving again. Creeping slowly through the tall tickling grass lining the rocks. Slowly working your way towards the cliffs.
A rustle comes from behind forcing breath to still, one hand reaching back to rest on your gun. Something that people never seem to realize, smaller feet make a lot of noise if they weren’t careful. A lone soldier comes walking up from the cliff side, fiddling with his belt, yawning loudly.
His eyes lock on yours, shock resting for a moment before he goes to raise his gun. A small shout is cut off by your left hand wrapping underneath his mask-covered jaw. Your right hand raises without thinking, resting on the opposite temple. Right hand pushes while the left hand pulls hard and quick. Small hands fall down and silence wraps around you again. Hard swallowing pushes down the bile rising in your throat.
That was the first time. The first time you’d ever killed someone with your bare hands. The first time you’d felt the life leave someone. Felt heat dying, watched eyes lose focus. Caused something so violent without pointing a gun.
Footsteps break the all consuming thoughts. They were softer, larger. Then a hand touches your arm, eyes shifting between you and the soldier still in your hands. “Keke, are you okay? Where’s Priya and the others?”
You look at him for a second, dragging the soldier into the tall grass. Hiding the evidence from immediate view. “In the cave, the one under the largest rock. It won’t be long until the RDA starts poking around there.”
“Do you know how many there are?”
“Less than ten.” You gesture to the grass, “He’s the only I’ve come into contact with.”
“What do you think?”
Eyes flick over him, thinking. “I’ll draw their fire, cause a distraction.” Your hand pulls at the rifle’s strap, “This is all I have. It’s loud enough to make them think there’s only one threat.”
His fingers play with the drawstring digging into his chest, “While I sneak around, taking them out one by one.”
A playful smile greets his cheeky one, “Exactly.”
___
Cool, misty air sits lightly in your lungs as you draw in deep breaths, rolling your neck. You’d hated the thought of sitting inside, where heavy air made everyone restless while waiting for the clan leaders to arrive. It was better to take the few moments of peace you could before having to deal with.. Eyes flick open, watching mist curl through the trees and around the rock walls.
You weren’t ready to deal with Alma and her faux concern. And you certainly weren’t looking forward to being around So’lek right now. There’d been enough time since your ‘talk’ to calm down. Been more than enough time to reconcile if you’d wanted. But there also hadn’t been enough time to erase the words he’d chosen. To erase the feeling sitting low in your chest, squeezing your heart.
His words sat heavy on your mind, making you wonder if they were his or Alma’s. You didn’t want to believe that the moments shared over the last few weeks, the time shared, was misread. That you’d misread the underlying tone of it all.
A loud voice interrupts your thoughts, “Ah, ma ‘eylan, it is good to see you alive and moving again.” You know that voice. You look up, seeing the pair dismount their ikran.
“Nesim, Minang, it is good to see you both.” The smile was audible in your words.
Nesim stops in front of you while Minang sends you a small smile, working her way inside first. “I am sad that we only meet in times of war. When this is all over, come to the plains. We will make a Zeswa out of you yet.”
You shoot her a teasing smile, “Careful Nesim, or others will think you are soft on me.”
“She is soft on you.” Minang’s voice carries from just inside the cave's mouth, mocking her sister.
“A leader knows when to be soft and when to be strict.” Her eye flashes in a teasing manner. She was joking with you.
“Come, I am sure Tamtey would like to see you.” You both walk together into the cave, spouting short banters back and forth. It may be a time of war but every moment that wasn’t weighed down with it was welcome. You pay no attention to the eyes watching you from across the room.
Nesim does. “You have a second pair of eyes today.”
“There are many eyes that worry for me. This is my body now.”
She pauses at that. “You live as this?” You nod, not looking at her. The hiss of the air lock is nothing compared to the silence of her understanding your situation. “Good.” This draws your eyes back to her. “Eywa has seen something in you if she has gifted you this life until your last days. Better that, then dying before I can see more of those colors you have.”
A snort leaves you when you both continue inside. “Haven’t seen enough?”
“I have only half my vision ma ‘eylan. I will need to see more to believe it was you.”
Ri’nela’s voice calls the both of you out of your joking. “Everyone is here, come.”
The meeting was heavy, the gravity of the situation hanging clear as day over everyone around the holotable. Ri’nela’s voice carries that heaviness further, “Mercer’s next excavation will destroy much of this land.”
Nesim cuts in, agitation clear in her words. “Then what are we waiting for? We should thunder through their gates and drag the little man from his hiding place.”
Ri’nela’s head shakes, “Mercer’s base, it’s impenetrable.”
“Then our ikran will bring death from above.” The Aranahe’s Olo’eyktan was quick to vouch for his clan’s strength in air support.
So’lek argues back, “You see these turrets? We’d be cut from the sky.”
Minang joins in, “Are you saying not even a storm of Zeswa could strike a worthy blow?”
“My people know what it is to struggle alone. There is strength in unity. Aranahe, Zeswa, Kame’tire, and Sarentu.” Anufi’s voice was gentle, calling for a unified strike.
Tamtey’s voice cuts through the clan leader’s debating. “Tsmuke, what do you think?”
It was uncomfortable as their eyes settled on you. The way some eyes softened as they looked at you, understanding on a level that made your skin crawl if you thought too long on it. The way new ones settled apprehensively, uncertain about the dreamwalker they’d never met before. Only hearing through whispers on traveled tongues and from Tamtey briefly.
Their eyes settle on you, wanting your opinion. Looking to you now as a leader, for expertise. It was a role you’d been forced into. But one you couldn’t ignore. “Ri’nela and So’lek are right.” Fingers pull up clear images of Mercer’s drill, the sentry and anti-air turrets plainly shown. “While these are operational, no one is getting inside. We wouldn’t be able to attack Mercer’s base head on even if we tried. We have to find another way in or a way to take down these defenses so we can get inside.” Your fingers tap Priya’s shoulders, “Priya, you said you found a weakness in his system?”
Her shoulders snapped straight as she fiddled with the holotables’ system. “Mercer really stepped up his game. See these sensors? It’s a sonar defense system. Which sounds scary, and it is, but get this. It uses an unsecured connection. A weak link! Silly, right? I mean, if someone flies up there and scrambles their system, Alex can hack in from somewhere nearby. We can disable the drill!”
Tamtey nods, “I’ve seen those before, I’ll do it.”
“Then we will fly with you, support you.”
His head shakes, “Thank you, but with those sensors, the fewer the better.”
Ka’nat’s voice is heavy with the next question. “And if you fail?”
Your voice cuts through, “Then, be ready to move your people. We’ve really only got one shot with this.”
You stayed glued to the holotable as the others filed out. There was still so much to do, plans to make, backups to consider. The cloud over your head seemed to grow as you considered more scenarios, more situations and tactics that Mercer could use. Would use. He wasn’t going to take it lightly once this plan was in motion. You just hoped Alex would be able to work fast enough to get him offline before he made a move with that drill.
You’re so consumed in your thoughts, flicking between images, that you don’t hear quiet footsteps. Only noticing when fingers wrap around your wrist, tugging you away from the table some. “Tsmuke.” Tamtey’s voice is soft, ready for you to pull away.
“What is it, Tamtey?”
He sighs, fingers tightening. “What’s going on?”
You blink, caught off guard by his forwardness. “What do you mean-?”
“Cmon Keke, you can’t really expect that Ri’nela and I don’t see something is on your mind. You know us too well to see when we’re lying and we know you. So, out with it.” The annoyance in his words is palpable. Uncomfortable.
You watch him for a moment, torn. “Tamtey, really, it’s nothing bad.”
He grabs your other wrist, pulling you to fully face him. “Then tell us! We’re supposed to be your family, people that rely on one another.” You watch his brow pinch, ears and tail falling. “Are you, are you still mad about the transfer? Is that why you aren’t speaking to us? Avoiding us?”
“No, no, nothing like that.” Your hands are gentle, palms resting on his cheeks. Deciding to give him some truth, “I’m just worried. About your brothers, where they disappeared to, if they’re safe. Mercer and Harding. What they’re trying to do to this land.” Hands shift from cheeks to shoulders, pulling him in close. Hand resting on the back of his head, thumb brushing against his temple. “I’m worried what facing them head-on could bring, to all of us, but especially you and Ri’nela.” Tamtey relaxes some into the hug, arms wrapping tightly around your waist. Head dropping heavily on your shoulder. “I don’t want to lose anymore of this family.”
This time, you hear another set of soft footsteps, “You won’t, we won’t allow it.”
Ri’nela accepts the hand you extend, dragging her into the hug as well. “I love you both, so very much. It would kill me to have anything happen to you. That’s where my mind has been. I’m sorry my worry allowed you both to think I was mad at you, for any reason.”
Reassurances are muffled against your shoulders, sinking further into the embrace. It really wasn’t okay, your half truth, but you’d let it all slide for now. There was so much to focus on and you wouldn’t distract them more than necessary.
Pulling back to look at them, palms resting on opposite cheeks, eyes flicking between them. “When Alex is ready, you fly as hard and as fast as Temek can. And you stay safe, Tamtey, do you hear me? Ri’nela and I will be watching over you from here.”
“Yes, Keke.”
You smile, letting them sink a bit further into your hands before pulling away. “I’ll be right back, okay? Then we can have dinner together tonight, if you want?”
Ri’nela perks up immediately at that, “I learned a new recipe from one of the Kame’tire I’ve been wanting to try.”
“Perfect.” Watching her drag Tamtey behind her, shaking your head.
Feet carry you quickly upstairs, hoping you hadn’t taken too long and missed her. Tight shoulders relax some as you walk outside, seeing the small conversing huddle a bit further down the path. “Nesim.” She turns from the group, gaze softening slightly at seeing you.
“Ah, little warrior. Come to bid me a farewell?” She places a hand on her sister’s arm and nods to Anufi before making her way over to you.
A smile worms its way onto your face, “That and other things.” You look over her shoulder at the two Tsahìk’s still in conversation. “I didn’t mean to pull you away, I could have waited.”
Nesim waves off your comment, “They are talking about healing, herbs and wrappings. I am not a healer, their talk bores me.” The corner of her mouth lifts, “I am much better suited at hunting and fighting.”
“Of course, how could I forget.”
Your smile falters as you remember why you followed her out. “Nesim, I am so sorry about your people. Their loss was unnecessary, a cruelty.”
Nesim allows your words to settle between you, silently observing you. You can hear soft words carried on the wind from halfway down the trail. Then her hand raises, palm resting on your shoulder, squeezing. “We will kill many when the time comes, little warrior. The Zeswa will not let this go silently.”
Another moment of silence wraps around you both, her palm warm on your shoulder. You debate with yourself for a moment before deciding to lighten the mood some. “You know you can’t keep calling me ‘little’, Nesim. We’re the same height now.”
She snorts, “It does not matter what form you take, little warrior. You will always be smaller.” To prove her point, her hand raises to rest on your head. Then drags it through the air, tapping the side of her fingers in the middle of her forehead. “See? Little.”
Eyes are drawn to movement. Yours to Minang ending her conversation over Nesim’s shoulder. Nesim’s to a lurking shadow over yours.
You smile softly, poking a finger at Nesim. “I will have to concede for now, but don’t expect me to drop it. I am barely shorter than you.”
In your attempt to keep the atmosphere light, you completely miss the stiffness in Nesim’s expression. Smile just a bit too tight to not match her words, gaze focused still on shadows. “Barely is enough.” Her gaze softens when it meets yours, “I look forward to seeing you fight for the people again.”
She makes a point of touching your shoulder again, this time both hands resting slightly longer than necessary, before turning to join her sister. Thoughts race as you watch her walk away, flooding your ears with roars. A question that you’d meant to save for later demands to be asked. Now.
“Nesim,” You almost falter when she stops and looks back. “Can I ask a favor of you?”
❁ I do not give consent to feed my work into ai. I do not give consent to copy, repost (stealing my work), translate, or publish any of my works in any way. ❁
PS: if im missing anyone from the tag list pls let me know and i’ll fix it asap. pretty sure i got everyone but my brain’s been scrambled lately so who knows
Tag list : @missfortune0u0 @chershire23 @lovelyinthesunlitsky @simpingdeadcharacters @just-another-idk @intervitadatura @t04styy @valinat @iindigo-1111 @ux-l3ee @m4ngo15 @yaaraz @cicadamothgoblin @eeorrrr @21-princess
pairings aged-up neteyam x tayrangi!female warrior
notes reader is ikeyni’s daughter, mean neteyam (dw he will grovel for this <3) crybaby neteyam, angst, she fell first and he fell harder, smut (p in v), oral (f&m receiving)
synopsis neteyam has always been the only boy who stirred your heart. as a man, he is everything you’ve ever wanted... and now that circumstances have finally drawn you closer, it feels like the perfect chance to make him see you. but with the looming war, the firstborn son of toruk makto has no room for distractions, and he won’t hesitate to push aside anyone who threatens his focus.
word count 17.7k
₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚
You leaned against one of the massive pillars of the war pavilion, idly braiding a strand of fiber for your new knife sheath. Usually, your senses would be filled with the smell of salt and moss that clung to the cliffs of your home in the Eastern Sea, but here, in the rainforest, it was mostly choked out by the heavy stench of fuel and burning forest, and around you, the war council was deep in debate.
Your mother stood tall with the other chieftains, gesturing sharply at a large map laid on a long table. Beside her stood your brother, the future Olo’eyktan of your clan, listening intently.
And then, there was the real view.
Neteyam stood just behind his father, Jake Sully. He was taller than most of the men in your clan, broad-shouldered, and muscled, taking after his father, even though he had the fierce beauty of his mother. He was listening to the strategy with that maddeningly intense, perfectly disciplined look he always wore. Always the dutiful son, the perfect soldier.
You bit your lip, a slow smirk spreading across your face. He was so incredibly handsome it was ridiculous, especially when he looks like he carried the weight of the entire world on his shoulders. You’ve always wondered what it would feel like to be on the receiving end of that intensity... To be the subject of his focus and determination.
You shivered at the thought of it, and your brother caught your eyes across the table. He noticed where you were staring, rolled his eyes, and mouthed, “Stop it.”
“Their supply lines are vulnerable here, along the gorge,” Jake Sully was saying, moving a stone on the ridge on the map. “But they’ve got turrets scanning the skies. If we fly in blind, we’re target practice.”
“We need a distraction,” Neteyam muttered, his brow furrowed as he stared at the map. “Someone fast enough to draw the attention away from the ground strike team, but agile enough to avoid getting hit. But it’s high risk.”
“My people are born on the wind,” Ikeyni spoke up. She placed a hand flat on the table, her sharp eyes shifting from Jake to his eldest son. “If you need someone who can deliver what you need, you take my daughter.”
Neteyam’s head snapped up. His golden eyes immediately finding yours from where you leaned against the pillar, as if he knew where exactly you had been standing. A frown instantly marred his handsome face and he turned back to your mother, his posture stiffening.
“Olo’eykte, with respect, the RDA has upgraded those tracking systems,” Neteyam argued, his voice tight with that dutiful edge you loved to mess with. “They aren’t just shooting blindly anymore. It is high risk. A single mistake, and the ikran and its rider are—”
“Are you saying I can’t handle it?”
You purred the words as you finally pushed off the pillar, sauntering closer to the table, tossing your half-braided sheath fiber aside. Every eye in the room tracked your movement, but yours were locked on the Omatikaya’s golden boy. You stopped right beside him, close enough that you felt the heat radiating from him. You tilted your head up, letting a slow smirk pull at your lips as you looked at his clenched jaw.
“If I didn’t know any better,” you murmured, leaning in just a fraction closer, “I’d think you were trying to keep me out of the sky to keep me safe. I didn’t realize you care that much?”
A sudden bark of laughter broke out from an elder across the table and the others followed suit. Meanwhile, your brother shook his head at your sheer audacity. Jake Sully’s lips twitched upward, a faint, amused glint in his eyes as he looked between you two, clearly remembering what it was like to be young and stubborn. Even the older, stern warriors around the table began to chuckle, the suffocating tension of the war efforts breaking open to let a little light in. It was a comforting reminder to the elders that despite the demons coming back, the youth were still acting their age.
Neteyam, however, did not laugh.
He let out a long, slow breath through his nose, his shoulders dropping a fraction as he looked down at you. His ears twitched back in mild annoyance, but he didn't step away from you. He was tolerant, as he always was, enduring your teasing with the patience of a tree weathering a storm. He had always known that you are a lethal asset to the people’s war efforts... But unfortunately, you are also a source of a massive, distracting headache.
“I care about the success of the mission,” Neteyam said, his voice dropping into a low register meant only for you. His gaze was incredibly intense up close, close to the kind of focus that had made you shiver imagining just moments ago. “We are planning a raid that could cost lives. This isn’t the time for games.”
Partly slighted at his doubt, you frowned. “I am completely serious,” you said, dropping the just enough to show the deadly huntress beneath. You motioned at the map right where the turrets were marked. “These are coastal winds. I’ve navigated treacherous cliff gaps like it’s a playground snce I was a child. My ikran and I will rise to the challenge, you’ll see.”
“Alright, alright, break it up,” Jake intervened, though the grin was obvious in his voice as he tapped the map. “If Ikeyni says she’s the one for the job, then she’s the one. Neteyam, you’ll be leading the ground insertion. That means your timing with the distraction has to be perfect.”
Neteyam tore his eyes away from you, nodding sharply to his father. “Yes, sir.”
But as the council began to break into smaller groups to discuss once more among themselves, Neteyam didn't immediately walk away. He stayed right where he was, his towering frame casting a shadow over you. He looked down at you, the exasperation fading into something quieter, something serious and heavy.
“It really is dangerous out there,” he said softly, his golden eyes searching yours. “The winds in the gorge are unpredictable.”
You matched his seriousness for a rare, passing second, to let him see that you are capable underneath all the flirting. “I know, Neteyam. But I’m faster than them. Trust me.”
He nodded, his jaw hardening. “I do trust you. Just... don't make me regret it.”
With a final, lingering look that left your heart hammering against your ribs, he turned to follow his father. You watched him go, your smirk slowly returning as you realized that for at least a few minutes, you had been the absolute center of his universe.
The next day, you were up before the first light, immediately going to where your ikran was roosting, smiling when you saw her already prepared, like always. “Ready, girl?“ you murmured, stroking her sleek, brightly patterned neck.
She screeched in response, a sharp, eager sound and you chuckled, mounting her back and connecting your kuru to hers, the familiar, rushing warmth of the tsaheylu flooding your senses. Your head swiveled to the side when you sensed a presence, seeing Neteyam stopping several paces away, already geared with his warrior cummerbund, longbow, amd chest knife sheath.
Your head tilted, admiring how handsome he looked as you smiled brightly. “Hi! Good morning,” you grinned. “Came to send me with a good luck kiss?”
He remained serious though, his eyes scanning your form on your ikran. “Be careful out there.” he said in a clipped tone, not waiting for a response before he turned away.
You chuckled, shaking your head. So serious, you thought, smirking. So handsome, too, anyway, the other part of your mind retorted and you rolled your eyes. You clicked your tongue and pulled at your ikran’s reins, making her surge up into the sky. You flew higher than usual, hiding in the thick clouds to scan high above the gorge. The sky was still a deep, bruised purple when the signal came through the comms secured to your ear.
“Pathfinder,” Jake Sully’s voice crackled, steady and calm. “Ground teams, position. You are clear to engage. Eye in the sky, you're up.”
A heartbeat later, a lower, tighter voice filtered through. “Be careful up there. Hit your marks.”
Neteyam.
Your smirk returned, invisible to him but it laced your voice enough for him to imagine it. “I heard that twice already, Neteyam. Are you so worried?” your honeyed teasing voice dripping through the comms.
You heard his groan and it was followed by a chuckle that sounded so much like Jake’s but it was cut short. “Just focus on the mission,” Neteyam’s voice snapped back through the earpiece.
You chuckled. “Watch the skies, Sully. Try not to blink, or you’ll miss me.”
Without waiting for a response, you clicked your tongue. Your ikran folded her wings and dove straight off the cliffside into the gaping maw of the gorge. The wind shrieked past your ears, whipping your braids wildly. Below, the metallic structures of the RDA outpost clung to the valley floor like a parasite. Within seconds, the base's automated defense grid woke up. Loud whirs echoed through the canyon as three massive turrets pivoted, their motion-tracking lasers sweeping the dark sky until they locked onto you.
“Now!” you hissed, leaning flat against your ikran's back.
You maneuvered your ikran in the sky as heavy explosive rounds tore through the air. The blasts should have scared you, but it surprised even you that it didn’t. You pulled sharply on the reins, banking hard to the left. A volley of bullet shattered the rocky cliffside right where you had been a millisecond before, reducing it to a powdery debris. You laughed out loud, pushing your mount into a tight, dizzying barrel roll, diving directly between the narrow gaps of the cliffs.
The tracking systems couldn't keep up. The automated turrets jerked violently, scrambling to overcorrect their aim as you flew through the blind spots, From your view high above, you watched Neteyam and his ground strike team. While the turrets were completely distracted by your earlier display, they swarmed out of the dense forest like shadows. Leading the charge, Neteyam moved with terrifying precision, breaching the perimeter fencing, dropping two RDA guards before they could even raise their weapons. Behind him, Lo'ak and the other warriors systematically planted charges on the supply crates and fuel lines.
Even from up above, your eyes found him effortlessly, admiring his swift and unyielding movements, completely commanding. He was a force of nature.
“Charges are live! Pull back, pull back!” You heard Neteyam’s voice bark through the comms. He looked up into the sky, his golden eyes scanning the smoke until he caught the bright, unmistakable red of your ikran’s wings looping through the clouds. “Y/N, disengage! Get out of there!”
Swooping low one last time, you let out a victorious battle cry as a massive explosion ripped through the base behind you. You looked and saw an image of a huge ball of fire consuming the turrets and the supply lines. The explosion gave your ikran the motivation to increase her speed, launching you up and out of the fiery gotge into the safety of the skies. The raid was a flawless success.
By the time you got back to Hometree, the adrenaline was still humming under your skin. You hopped down from your ikran, patting her flank affectionately as the other warriors cheered and celebrated the clean victory. No casualties for the party and a massive blow to the sky people. A smudge of black engine soot marred your cheek, your eyes searching the crowd.
Neteyam was standing near his father, catching his breath, his skin glistening with sweat and ash. He looked exhausted, but the heavy tension that usually held his shoulders tight had momentarily melted away. As if sensing your gaze, his head turned. His golden eyes locked onto yours across the clearing. You stared at him, raising your brow and tilting your chind up with a proud, triumphant grin that said, I told you so.
Neteyam watched you for a long moment. Then, slowly, a genuine, breathless smile broke across his handsome face. It was a rare, stunning sight that made your heart do a violent flip against your ribs. He broke away from his father and walked straight toward you, stopping just a foot away.
“You showboated,” he murmured, his voice low but devoid of the seriousness that usually laced it.
“I just gave them a show,” you corrected smoothly, crossing your arms. “There is a difference. And I did it.”
“You did,” Neteyam conceded, his eyes dropping to the soot on your cheek before rising to meet your gaze with an intensity that made you almost forget how to breathe. “It was an incredible show. You were incredible up there.”
Your breath hitched. For all your constant flirting and loud teasing, having his quiet praise directed entirely at you caught you completely off guard that the witty comeback died on your tongue, your cheeks warming under his stare.
Neteyam noticed your sudden silence, and a small, amused smirk, one that looked a lot like your own, as if he had just copied it, pulled at the corner of his lips.
“What's wrong?” he asked softly, stepping just a fraction closer. “Quiet now? I didn't realize it was that easy to shut you up.”
You stared up at him, your mouth slightly open. The proximity was intoxicating, and for someone who usually spent his time dodging your advances, he was occupying a lot of your personal space now.
Your eyes flicked down to his smirk, then back up to his eyes. “I’m just savoring the moment. You’re more handsome up close,“ you smirked, regaining your composure a little. You leaned in, forcing him to maintain that dizzying eye contact. “And it’s not every day the great Neteyam admits I'm incredible. I might just let it get in my head.”
Neteyam’s smirk faltered for a fraction of a second. Coughing softly, he cleared his throat as he took a strategic step backward, breaking the contact but keeping his eyes locked onto yours. “Don't get used to it,” he muttered, though his tone was lacking any real bite. “Go get cleaned up. My father wants a full debrief within the hour.”
He turned on his heel and walked back toward Jake, though you didn't miss the way his tail swished behind him. You let out a quiet, triumphant laugh, wiping the soot from your cheek with the back of your hand. There was still an armor, but you had managed to crack it... That’s a small victory!
In the following days, the high of the victory had settled into the familiar routine of war. The leaders gathered once again in the pavilion. This time, however, the mood was lighter. The success of the gorge raid had given the rebellion more time to breathe. Your mother pointed at the eastern coast on the map, discussing the movement of RDA sea vessels who was last seen going farther east.
“They are retreating toward the deep water,” your brother noted, crossing his arms. “The destruction of the supply lines has damaged their operations in the coastal outposts.”
“We need to take control of the momentum,” Jake said, leaning over the table. “Neteyam, what’s the status of our perimeter watches?”
Neteyam stepped forward, completely back into his professional, disciplined element. “The forest guards are doubling their patrols. But we need to ensure our aerial scouts are maintaining a strict radius. We can't afford to get complacent just because we succeed in one mission.”
You smiled, resting your chin in your palm as you leaned over the map table, deliberately putting yourself right in his line of sight. “Oh, don't worry, Commander. Our scouts are alwasys in the air. We don't get tired easily.” You paused, letting your eyes slowly track down his body before bringing your gaze back to his face. “Though, if you're so worried about our stamina, you're welcome to come up with me next time. I can show you how we stay energized.”
A collective ripple of amused snickers passed through the council. Your brother hid his face in his hands, muttering something about losing his mind, while your mother let out a small, huffing chuckle. “Daughter...” she said pointedly.
Neytiri smiled, shaking her head at Ikeyni. You watched Neteyam close his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. He let out a long sigh, his shoulders dropping. He was so incredibly tolerant of you, enduring the teasing with the quiet patience of a palulukan letting a cub bat at its tail.
“Y/N,” Neteyam said slowly, opening his eyes to look at you with deadpan exasperation. “I have to train the youth at the archery grounds after this. I do not have time to be a part of your games.”
“A shame,” you purred, flashing him a brilliant, unbothered grin. “You don't know what you're missing.”
Hours later, you found yourself wandering down toward the village training grounds, hearing the familiar sound of snapping bowstrings and the light thud of arrows hitting bark targets. You stood there, crossing your arms as you watched the scene. Neteyam was in his element. He was surrounded by a dozen young, aspiring warriors, all holding smaller training bows. He was patient and focused, moving down the line to correct their posture.
“Keep your elbow high,” Neteyam instructed a young boy, gently adjusting the kid's arm. “Do not fight the bow string. Let it become an extension of your arm. Look at the center of the mark, breathe out, and release.”
The boy released the string, and the arrow thudded squarely into the inner ring of the target. The kids cheered, and Neteyam offered a rare, warm smile, patting the boy's shoulder.
“Very good. Again.”
“Nice,” you called out, stepping out from the shadows.
The group of young hunters immediately turned, their eyes widening when they saw you. In your clan, you were a legend among the youth, the daughter who flew like the wind and didn't care about the rules. A few of the older teenagers standing nearby immediately started whispering and nudging each other, grinning widely because everyone knew you loved to push Neteyam’s buttons.
Neteyam stiffened, his shoulders squaring as he turned to face you. He gripped his longbow, his ears twitching back. “I am teaching, Y/N. Go find something else to do.”
“I just want to see if I can help,” you said innocently, sauntering closer until you were standing right in front of him, entirely ignoring the giggles of the children behind him. You reached out, your fingers lightly tracing the curve of his heavy longbow. “You see, kids, the Omatikaya are used to shooting on the ground, on their feet. But if you want real precision while moving, you need a loose hip. Like this.”
You fluidly snatched a training bow from a nearby rack, notched an arrow in the blink of an eye, and without even pausing to aim, you spun on your heel and released. The young warriors erupted into gasps and cheers when they saw the arrow hit the center of the furthest target cleanly, totally thrilled by the display. You tossed the bow back onto the rack, turning around to look at Neteyam with a smug, raised eyebrow.
“See?” you murmured, stepping into his space, tilting your head up. “It’s about flexibility, too. Maybe I should give you a private lesson sometime. I can teach you how to loosen up what’s stiff.” you murmured, biting your lip.
Neteyam’s eyes narrowed, his aw practically tightening into stone. His face burned a furious, deep shade of violet, his golden eyes wide as he stared down at you. He knows, with a piercing awareness, how completely trapped he is between his duty and his sheer, chaotic attraction to you, and he shouldn’t like it. But he does, so Eywa help him. He took a deep breath, gripping his bow tightly to keep his hands from shaking.
“Class dismissed,” Neteyam barked out, his voice a strained, tight rumble. “Go practice your stealth skills. Now.”
The kids scrambled away, still laughing and whispering, leaving the two of you completely alone in the training grounds. Neteyam stepped even closer, his towering frame casting a shadow over you as he glared down, though the heat radiating from his skin told a completely different story.
“You are impossible,” he whispered fiercely.
You laughed, enjoying the sight of the crack getting bigger each day. You’ve never had this much progress in the past... Perhaps because you don’t really see each other for longer than a few days. Sometimes, your mother gets invited to festivals in the Omatikaya and she brings you and your brother with her, or it’s her who invites the Sullys to come for festivals in your clan.
You’ve always liked Neteyam better than his brother. Lo’ak is a good acquaintance, but it was Neteyam who you’ve always found more interesting. What with his intense focus and unyielding determination on everything he puts his mind to, but you could tell it was also born from his desire to live up to his parents’ legacy.
He is the firstborn, after all. The heir to the Omatikaya leadership. The return of the sky people was the reason why he’s grown even more serious and focused, determined to protect the people, Eywa’eveng, and his family, even more so. You respect that a great deal, but you also think he needs to loosen up a bit before he stresses himself into an early grave.
You wonder if he even has interest in women, or if he only cares about his bows and his arrows. But you don’t like to think of that. It makes you fiercely jealous to think of him directing that intense focus on a woman who’s not you... Or to think of him letting a woman see past the armor you’re working so hard to crack.
But you are too confident. You thought the crack in his armor was getting wider by the day, and you genuinely believed it was only a matter of time before he finally let his guard down.
You should have remembered that in war, the higher you fly, the harder you fall.
More council meetings ensued in the following days, and now, you found yourself back in the sky. The RDA had deployed a small convoy of armored vehicles, and Neteyam’s squad was tasked to do a quiet interception.
“Hold your position above the tree line,” you heard Neteyam’s voice through the comms, crisp and authoritative. “Do not engage until the ground team has disabled their communications. If they see you, they will lock down the area and call for reinforcements. Do you copy?”
You had copied. But as you circled in the grey mist, you saw one of the AMP suits pivoting its heavy cannon directly toward the dense foliage where Neteyam’s ground sweepers were crawling. Your heart leaped into your throat. You waited to hear from him, or for the communication to be cut, but you can’t wait when they could all be gunned down any second.
I am fast enough, you had thought, fueled by that same headstrong confidence that had always served you before. I can take out that suit before it fires.
So, you dove.
But you had underestimated the trees’ density in this sector. Your ikran’s wing clipped a massive branch, throwing off your trajectory by a fraction of a second, and it was all the automated sensors needed. The AMP suit spun, firing a volley of heavy-caliber rounds into the sky. A hot, tearing agony sliced across your thigh, a bullet graze, and the concussive blast sent your ikran screeching into a spiral.
Your sudden, messy descent completely blew the ground team's cover. The convoy opened fire on the forest blindly. Screams of pain echoed through the comms, cutting through your panic. By the time it all ended, the convoy was destroyed, but the cost to the war party was devastating. Blood soaked your leg wraps but you cared little for it, forcing your ikran into the air, flying back to the Hometree with your chest tightening in suffocating fear and shame.
When you landed in the clearing, the celebratory atmosphere of the past weeks was entirely dead. You scrambled off your mount, wincing as your injured leg buckled slightly, and rushed toward the center, catching sight of him immediately. Neteyam was lifting a huntress off the back of his ikran. Her arm was painted in deep, crimson blood from a horrific wound on her shoulder. It was Tarya.
“Get the medical bay ready! Move!” Neteyam roared, his voice cracking with a raw, terrifying desperation you had never heard from him before. He was covered in soot and someone else's blood, his face a mask of pure, unadulterated fury.
“Neteyam—” you breathed, stepping forward, your hands shaking. “Neteyam, I—I am so sorry. I saw the suit turning toward you, I thought I could—”
Neteyam snapped. He lowered Tarya into the frantic arms of the medical healers, then turned on you so fast his tail whipped the air. He closed the distance between you in two giant, looming strides, towering over you.
“You thought?” he asked, his voice drawing the shocked eyes of every warrior present. “I don’t think so! You are entirely, helplessly obstinate! You almost fell! You almost died, did you even think of that?!”
You flinched, stepping back, but he kept coming, his golden eyes blazing with a dangerous, lethal heat that made you feel incredibly small.
“And because you couldn't follow a single, simple order, these warriors are wounded!” He said in a hard voice, his jaw clenched so hard you could hear his teeth grinding. “Tarya might not survive the night! Do you understand that? Do you even care?”
“I do care!” you cried out, tears of shame finally burning your eyes. “I was trying to protect—”
“You didn’t listen! Like always!” he cut you off, his chest heaving as he glared down at you with complete contempt. “You treat this war like a game to win my attention! You are a massive, childish distraction, Y/N! Everyone knows it, and I am sick of it! Do you think people bleeding out in the mud is a joke? Do you think this war is just another festival for you to play around in?”
The words felt like physical daggers piercing straight into your chest, ripping away at your pride and your confidence. You stood frozen, completely exposed and deeply ashamed in front of the people present. Your mouth opened to apologize again.
“I'm sorry,” you choked out, your voice breaking.
“Save your apologies,” Neteyam said, his voice dropping into a cold, venomous hiss that hurt far worse than his shouting. “If you cannot take this seriously, you should just withdraw from the war efforts entirely. Frankly, your behavior is putting everyone's life on the line.”
He didn't wait for you to answer. He turned his back on you completely, jogging alongside the stretcher as they wheeled his warriors toward the human facilities.
You stood alone in the dirt. You couldn't even feel the throbbing wound on your thigh. The numbness of absolute embarrassment and guilt swallowed you whole. He was right. You had been stupid and childish. You had been playing a dangerous game with people's lives just to hear him say your name.
You didn't seek out the Tsahik. You didn't think you deserved her medicine. Weakly, you dragged yourself back onto your ikran and flew away from the Hometree, heading toward the borders of your own clan's territory. You spent the evening in isolation, using bitter, stinging ocean herbs to tend to your own thigh, weeping silently in the dark. You resolved that you would return to apologize to the wounded warriors, and thinking of doing that is already making you feel flayed.
You had been too confident in your abilities and now, you have put people’s lives on the line. You should be ashamed. He was right about you leaving the war efforts, too, perhaps that was for the better. Because of what happened, you don’t think you still have enough confidence to go out there and fight.
You went to your clan, simply to change clothes, but was welcomed by the heavy grief that befell the people. An honored elder had passed away from natural causes, and by custom, the clan had to gather for the burial rites. Your mother and brother returned from the war front to attend, their faces grim.
After the body was given back to Eywa, your brother found you sitting on a secluded cliffside, staring blankly out at the crashing waves of the Eastern Sea. He sat down beside you, sighing. “I heard of the northern ridge,” he said quietly.
You clutched your knees to your chest, refusing to look at him. “Is Tarya... is she alive?”
“She is. Jake’s human friends saved her. She will recover. The others are okay, too,” your brother assured you, placing a heavy hand on your shoulder. “The war party didn't lose its momentum, sister, if that’s what you’re worried about. But... the injuries could have been prevented. You know this.”
“I know,” you whispered, a tear slipping down your cheek. “I think I should leave, before I put everyone's lives on the line.” You looked up at your brother, your eyes hollow. “I’ll fly back tomorrow. Just to apologize to those who were wounded because of me. And then... I'm coming home.”
Later that evening, you stood inside your mother's yurt, packing away your combat gear. Ikeyni watched you from the entrance, her arms crossed, as you told her what you told your brother, your voice flat and devoid of its usual spark.
“It would be better anyway if I stay back here, Mother,” you said, tying off a leather pouch. “I can act on your behalf with the local hunters. I'm just a bother to the war council over there.”
Ikeyni stared at you, her sharp eyes assessing your rigid posture, your bandaged leg, and the complete lack of confidence in your eyes.
“Whose words are those?” your mother asked softly. “Are they yours?”
You paused, your hands trembling over your gear. You shook your head slowly. “Mother, he was right,” you said, a lump forming in your throat as Neteyam's furious face flashed in your mind. “I wasn't taking the war seriously. I think it would do the council better if I leave. We have plenty of competent riders to do my job. I don't belong there.”
Ikeyni let out a long, heavy sigh. She walked over, placing a firm, warm hand on the nape of your neck, tilting your forehead up to look into her eyes.
“If that is what you truly want, then so be it,” your mother murmured softly, leaning forward to kiss your temple. “But remember who you are, daughter. You are a child of the wind. Do not let one storm ground you forever.”
The journey back to the Omatikaya clan felt different this time. Usually, you would be racing your brother through the clouds, your laughter wild and loud, but today, you simply flew silently behind your mother. When you landed and entered the pavilion, the change in you was loud. Normally, there was always a sharp, teasing smirk ready for whoever caught your eye, but now, your face was barely moving, your eyes fixed on a permanent point in front of you.
The shame was suffocating and it felt like a huge boulder they tied around you. The council proceeded, discussing territory lines and defensive strategies for what felt like hours, while you stood rigid behind your mother, your eyes watching them move pieces on the map, unknowing of Neteyam’s eyes seeking you despite Ikeyni’s body blocking him from sight.
Taking a deep breath, you stepped forward into the light of the pavilion when the elders finally paused. Your voice was flat as you addressed the chieftains and the elders, completely stripped of its usual playful edge. “I want to apologize for the failure of my recent mission. I disobeyed orders, and I take full accountability for the consequences. I am even sorrier that it took me days to stand before you and say this; my clan was laying an elder to rest.“
You took a breath, your hands clasped tightly behind your back so no one could see them shaking.
“As you can see, I am unfit for this council. I lack the discipline required for operations of this scale. Moving forward, I am letting my mother decide on my replacement from the Tayrangi riders.”
A heavy silence descended upon the pavilion.
“Y/N,” Jake Sully spoke first, his deep voice carrying a wave of gentleness that surprised you. He leaned over the table, his eyes soft. “The war party didn't lose its momentum. We took out the convoy. You don't need to pin the blame solely on yourself. This is war. Mistakes happen and warriors are always meant to be wounded.”
Neytiri leaned forward next, her sharp, golden eyes searching your hollow face. “Do I understand what you mean, Ikeyni’ite? Are you leaving the council?”
“Yes,” you nodded, your voice firm.
Your mother stepped into the space beside you, her voice steady and protective, supplementing your words before anyone else could question you. “I have asked her to stay back with the Tayrangi. Ruk’e and I are heavily occupied with the war efforts here, and I need someone I trust to oversee the people.”
“Olo'eykte. Tsakarem.”
The voice cut through the pavilion, low and fractured, making your heart seize painfully in your chest. You didn't want him to speak. You didn't want to look at him.
Neteyam stepped forward from behind his father's shoulder. His posture wasn't stiff with the perfect discipline of a soldier anymore, it looked strained, his shoulders slightly hunched. “I wish to speak,” he said, his eyes locked on you, seeking yours, though you kept your gaze fixed somewhere near his collarbone. “I want to apologize to you, Y/N, before the council, for my reaction days ago. I was angry, and I spoke out of turn. You do not need to leave the council because of it.”
You felt a faint ripple of shock go through you, but it didn't revive your heart. Instead, a fresh wave of mortification washed over you. You felt even more ashamed that he felt obligated to apologize in front of the entire leadership just to close the issue gracefully and maintain alliance peace. To you, him telling you not to leave was just something he was saying for the record, a diplomatic necessity.
“You have nothing to apologize for, warrior, and I have nothing to forgive either,” you said, your voice entirely level, devoid of any anger or spite. It was just empty.
One of the Omatikaya elders turned to your mother. “Ikeyni, is this decision final? We would hate to lose such a skilled asset for the war efforts.”
“Yes,” you answered for her, your tone absolute. Nothing could have changed your mind. “If the council pleases, I excuse myself. I wish to apologize to the warriors who were wounded because of me.”
You were already looking at the door, not catching how Neteyam’s head reared back as if something had clawed at him. Without waiting for a formal dismissal, you turned and walked out of the pavilion, the sudden shift to freedom doing nothing to ease the tightness in your chest.
You walked straight toward the medical areas, knowing you would find the injured split between the Tsahik’s tent and the human facilities. You went to the Tsahik's tent first, stepping into the dim space. When you approached the wounded Omatikaya warriors, your throat tightened, but they easily brushed your apologies off with tired, warm smiles.
“It is no one's fault,” one of them murmured. “We know what we came there for. Being wounded is expected for a warrior.”
When you went to the human facilities, you found Tarya resting in a clean bed, her shoulder heavily bandaged. When you spoke your apologies to her, she reached out to pat your arm. “Do not carry this weight, sister. We are alive. That is what matters.”
The sheer kindness of their forgiveness almost made you cry. A bitter, agonizing thought crossed your mind, wishing Neteyam thinks the same.
But you immediately caught yourself, mentally slapping the thought away. Stop it. You need to stop thinking about what Neteyam thinks or what he doesn't. You knew it would take time. You had liked him for so long, possibly loved him, but that part of your life was over now.
You walked out to the clearing where your ikran was waiting, ready to leave this place behind for good. You were just reaching for her leather harness when heavy, frantic footsteps behind you, hearing your name being called.
You closed your eyes for a brief second before turning around. Neteyam was jogging toward you, breathing heavily. He had asked to leave the council to follow you the exact moment you walked out, but Jake hadn't allowed him to dismiss himself until the meeting officially concluded.
Now, as he stopped a few paces away, you actively turned off your imaginative mind. You completely shut down that part of yourself that used to over-analyze his every breath, forcing yourself not to read into the fact that he looked almost desperate, entirely at a loss for words.
Neteyam's eyes flickered down, and you saw his face almost crumple, a sharp grimace crossing his features at the sight of the cloth bandaging your thigh. You subtly shifted your weight, trying your best to hide the injury behind the wing of your ikran.
His eyes flickeredup to yours, swimming with a quiet, raw desperation you tried your hardest to ignore. “Y/N, please. I am so sorry for what I said in the clearing. I shouldn't have—”
“It’s alright, Neteyam,” you cut him off smoothly, your voice polite and empty. “You were right anyway. Truly, I should be ashamed of my behavior right from the start. I didn't take things as seriously as I should have, and that only proves how unfit I am for the council. So, you see, you were completely right about me leaving—”
“No,” he breathed, the word breaking from him like a gasp. His shoulders fell, and he took a sudden step forward, his hand reaching out.
Unconsciously, your posture tensed, and you took a sharp step backward, pressing yourself closer to the flank of your ikran as if to seek safety.
Neteyam froze. His extended hand trembled in the air before slowly dropping to his side. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, his voice strained with a deep pain that, once again, you forced yourself to ignore.
“I know,” you said quickly, forcing a small chuckle to ease the tension. “Sorry.” You cleared your throat, gesturing vaguely to the sky. “But just as I said, everything has become much clearer to me now. I want to leave before I put more people in danger. Perhaps, I should even thank you for opening my mind about that—”
“No, Y/N, listen to me,” he stepped closer again, his voice rising in an urgent, pleading rush. “I was just... I was so scared for the wounded. I was terrified. And I said things that I shouldn't have said, terrible things—”
“You said things that were true, Neteyam,” you interrupted softly, your face completely calm as you reached up to ruffle the crest of your ikran's head. “And as I said, I am completely cool about them. I accept them, and I understand. You have nothing to apologize for. In truth, it was just a superior delivering valid criticisms that I needed to learn from.”
“I was unnecessarily cruel,” Neteyam burst out, his jaw trembling as he stared at your polite, unbothered expression. “I was unfair of me to pin all the blame on you. Their tracking systems were upgraded, the terrain was bad—I couldn't tell you how much I have regretted my words every second since. Y/N, please... it is I who needs your forgiveness—”
You let out a sigh and Neteyam stopped abruptly, as if your sigh had put a physical gag on him. He watched you, terrified of whatever words were about to leave your mouth.
“Neteyam. It is over and done with,” you said, your voice shifting into a serious, cold finality that left no room for argument. “I have no hard feelings over it whatsoever. Everything you said that day was true. I didn’t listen, and it put people in danger. I was reckless. I was foolish. You were right, so stop insisting you were wrong, because I’ll start thinking this is just your guilt talking. Stand by your words, and let’s leave things be.”
You reached behind you, grabbing your kuru and connecting it swiftly to your ikran's, before fluidly mounting her back, settling into the saddle with a practiced, rigid grace.
Neteyam stood rooted to the dirt. He had stopped breathing. He stared up at you, his chest aching so violently he wished with everything in him that your ikran’s wings wouldn't work. He wished the wind would die. He wished he could reach out, grab the reins, and drag you back down. His heart throbbed with a suffocating mix of guilt, regret, and something far heavier that he couldn't even name.
He had hurt you. He had completely broken your spirit, and it was devastatingly obvious. Sitting on your ikran, you were unrecognizable. The brilliant, chaotic spark was entirely gone. Your playful confidence was buried deep beneath a layer of careful, polite nonchalance.
“Have a good life, Neteyam,” you murmured.
With a sharp click of your tongue, your ikran surged forward, her powerful wings launching you into the open sky.
Neteyam watched you fly away, your form growing smaller and smaller until you were nothing but a speck in the distance. A sharp, physical spasm ripped through his chest, and his golden eyes stung, blurring his vision. His fingers curled into tight, trembling fists, his teeth gritting together so hard he thought they would crack under the pressure.
He had wanted you to take the war seriously. He had wanted you to stop distracting him. But as he stood alone in the empty clearing, looking up at the empty sky, Neteyam realized he had never been more brokenly, horribly distracted in his entire life.
₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚
The war efforts did not stop just because Neteyam’s world had lost its friction. If anything, the pace of the rebellion quickened after the destruction of the northern convoy. The Omatikaya and their allies pushed the RDA further toward the coastal margins, reclaiming three separate valleys within a single turn of the moon.
Neteyam did his duty with the same cold precision his father had drilled into him since he was old enough to hold a knife. To the common warriors, he was still the golden heir... Unshakable, vigilant, a pillar of the clan along his parents and Mo’at.
But inside his own skin, he was experiencing a slow, suffocating death.
Every hour of every day, his mind raced backward, tracing the bridge he had violently brought down. He missed you with a ferocity that physically brought ache to his gut. It felt like a boulder was placed in his ribs, overcrowding his lungs. Some days, he could barely breathe.
And the worst part was the quiet.
Before his stupidity, every spot of the Hometree was a minefield of your laughter. He had spent months training himself to ignore the sound of that, even though it was the balm to his soul at the end of every exhausting day, the honeyed delivery of your voice, and the way you would lean your shoulder against his, close enough for him to feel the heat radiating from you. He had thought of you as a massive, beautiful distraction. He had braced himself against you like a tree hardening its bark against a persistent storm.
Now, it was just gone. And the silence you left behind was deafening.
Dozens of times during the mid-day meetings, Neteyam would find his head turning instinctively to the left, his eyes scanning the roots or the wooden pillars for a glimpse of your vibrant red paint. At the training grounds, his shoulder would tingle, expecting the sudden touch of your hand.
But there was none.
By the second week, the pressure in Neteyam’s chest grew so immense that he began to lose his grip on his characteristic discipline. He became desperate for any connection to you, any excuse to hear updates from you that he found Ikeyni’s intense focus on war tactics and Ruk’e’s silence very irritating.
Stop talking of war, he thought. Let’s talk about your sister.
So when Ruk’e announced he was flying back to the Tayrangi to retrieve a shipment of leather harnesses and specialized arrows for the coastal hunters, Neteyam didn't even hesitate.
“I will go with you,” he had said, stepping into the ikran roosts before Ruk’e could even clear his mount for takeoff.
Ruk’e had paused, his hand tightening on his reins as he looked at Neteyam. There was no mission along the coast. There was no tactical reason for the commander of the ground forces to waste half a day acting as a pack-beast for supply crates.
“The eastern passes are clear, Sully,” Ruk’e said, his voice carrying that protective, guarded edge that you both possessed. “I do not need an escort.”
“My father wants an updated report on the drafts near the bay,” Neteyam lied, his jaw clenching as he connected his queue to his ikran. His voice was tight, nearly fracturing under the weight of his hidden urgency. “We are moving the division soon. I also need to see the terrain.”
Ruk’e stared at him for a long, heavy moment, reading the dark circles beneath his eyes and the frantic, nervous twitch of his tail. With a slow sigh, Ruk’e nodded silently. The flight to the Eastern Sea was the longest hour of Neteyam’s life. His mind ran through a thousand different scenarios, each one more pathetic than the last. He thought of finding you by the cliff’s edge. He thought of going down on his knees, uncaring of who saw him. He would let you see past his walls. He would let you see that he was nothing but a stupid man who had torn out his own heart stupidly. He was stupid, stupid, stupid.
Your final words had been repeating in his skull like a death chant. Have a good life, Neteyam.
It had sounded like a permanent severance. A final closure. He remembered how, weeks ago, when the realization that you intended to live the rest of your days without ever seeing him again hit him, he nearly doubled over, a physical gasp tearing from his throat as if he had been struck in the gut. Now, as they finally crested the high cliffs of the Tayrangi territory, his hope was crushed into dust. Apparently, you were not around. And he thought he was imagining the smirk that passed Ruk’e’s face.
They were there for close to two hours, gathering everything and securing it on their ikrans. At one point, Neteyam had looked high above and saw the unmistakable, bright red-and-orange span of your ikran’s wings flying down. His heart leaped into his throat, a sudden, violent surge of blood hammering in his ears. He leaned forward, preparing, his mouth already forming your name.
But then, Neteyam watched in absolute horror as your ikran turn back toward the blind side of the cliffs, diving deep into the sea mists until you completely vanished from sight. He looked at his ikran, its recognizable bright blue-green scales... Even from leagues away, you had seen the beast. Even though you didn't really see him, you decided to turn away. Avoiding him. Flying away from him.
Neteyam spent the rest of the supply run standing on the landing platforms, his eyes fixed on the empty horizon, his hands gripping his longbow so tightly his knuckles turned a sickly, pale shade of blue. You never came back up. You stayed hidden in the shadows of the rocks until they had to leave and fly back home to the forest, feeling more like a ghost than a living man.
Many nights later, Neteyam sat on a log near the weapon racks, idly running a whetstone down the edge of his hunting knife when a shadow fell over him. Jake Sully stepped into the light, his large frame blocking out the stars. He watched his eldest son for a quiet minute, taking in the rigid, defensive curve of the his spine.
“You're off your mark, son,” Jake said, his deep voice slicing through the crickets. “During the perimeter check today, you missed three separate trails on the western border. That’s not like you.”
Neteyam didn't look up. He kept his head bowed, the whetstone scraping against the blade. “Just tired, sir. The patrols have been long.”
“It’s not the patrols,” Jake countered gently. He stepped closer, leaning his hip against the weapon rack, his expression softening. “I know what happened after the ridge raid, Neteyam.”
The whetstone stopped.
Neteyam’s hands tried to grip the knife tighter to hide the trembling of his fingers. For the first time in his life, he couldn't hold his mask in place. A small, ragged breath escaped his lips, and when he finally turned his face up to look at his father, Jake blinked sharply from the surprise of seeing Neteyam’s eyes bright with unshed tears.
“I hurt her, Dad,” Neteyam said weakly, his voice breaking. “I was... I was so unnecessarily cruel. I was too stupid, opening my mouth like that. Shouting at her... saying those terrible things.”
He let out a shaky breath, his face crumpling from the sheer, agonizing effort of trying not to cry, but the first tear slipped anyway.
“Have you seen her at the pavillion, Dad?” he asked. “That's not her. That is no longer her because I broke her. I took her spirit and I crushed it with my cruelty. And what’s worse, what is killing me every second, is that she thinks she deserved it. She thinks I was right.” He dropped the knife into the dirt, his hands coming up to cover his face. “I don't know how to turn it all back around. I want her to forgive me. I want her to know... I’d rip my own heart right out of my chest if it means I could take away the pain I gave her.”
Jake let out a long, heavy sigh. His own features crumpled in deep distress for the two of you. He reached down, placing a calloused hand on his son’s trembling shoulder, squeezing tightly. “Have you tried apologizing again? Truly talking to her?”
“No,” Neteyam choked out, pulling his hands away from his face, his eyes red-rimmed from his tears. “I think she doesn't want to see me ever again. I flew to the Tayrangi with Ruk'e last week... and the moment she saw my ikran, she retreated. She dove back into the cliffs... She didn't want to be near me, Dad.”
Jake rubbed the back of his neck, exhaling through his teeth. “Have you tried hiding your ikran from view?”
Neteyam shot his father a miserable, exhausted look. “Dad,” he said, his you're-not-helping tone incredibly obvious. “I don't want to force her. If she wants to be away from me, I... I have to respect that. Even if it kills me.”
“Well,“ Jake said slowly, shifting his weight as he stared out into the dark canopy. “Perhaps you should just give her time... The perfect time to talk to her would probably be when she’s mated and having children with her husband—”
“Dad,” Neteyam’s voice rose and deepened, his head snapping up in sheer horror. The tears on his cheeks dried instantly as his heart did a terrifying, sickening dive into his stomach.
“What?” Jake asked, completely straight-faced, though there was a tiny, knowing glint in his eye. “You're taking too much time, son. Men could swoop in anytime, you know? Especially now. She’s back home, heartbroken, and trying to move on from a stupid boy who is too terrified to admit that he belongs to her. That’s exactly when other men take their chances.”
Neteyam closed his eyes, his breathing turning shallow and fast. For the first time in his twenty-two years of life, he felt a wild, primitive urge to beat his own father up.
It wasn't funny, but he knew that his father wasn’t joking either, and as he sat there, his mind began to spin into a dark spiral of jealousy and terror. He had always known that you liked him, that you had liked him since you were children, but because he had been so focused on his duty, he had never allowed himself to measure the depth of it. He had taken your presence for granted. He had assumed you would always be there, annoying him, teasing him, waiting for him to finally turn around.
But you were a chieftain's daughter. You were a legendary huntress, beautiful, fierce, and wild. He knew exactly how many Tayrangi young men watched you with fierce attraction when you flew. The only reason they had stayed away before was because you were down here, making a public nuisance of yourself over the Omatikaya heir.
Now, you were back home. Heartbroken and vulnerable.
Neteyam’s fingers curled into tight fists against his knees, his jaw clenching so hard his teeth groaned under the pressure. The thought of another warrior touching your hand, the thought of another man making you laugh, or seeing that brilliant, wicked smirk return to your face, made his blood run thick.
“She is the daughter of the Olo’eykte,” Neteyam muttered, his voice dropping into a low register. “She would not just choose anyone.”
“No, she wouldn't,” Jake agreed softly. “But she will choose eventually, Neteyam. And right now, you're letting her believe she is better off without you.”
Jake turned away, leaving Neteyam to sit with the desperate fire that had lit inside him. He had broken your spirit, yes. But he would be damned if he let another man be the one to fix it.
With this new fire in him, Neteyam returned to the Tayrangi three more times over the following weeks, armed with a bag of increasingly flimsy excuses. The first time, he claimed his father needed a precise audit of the coastal clan's surplus ikran armor. The second time, he practically forced himself onto a tracking detail meant to map the migration patterns of the sturmbeast herds near the Tayrangi territories. By the third time, he was carrying a bundle of forest herbs from Mo’at that Tayrangi healers hadn't even asked for.
Yet, three times, you managed to dodge him completely.
It was maddening. It felt as though someone was deliberately feeding you a schedule of his arrivals and departures. Every time his blue-green ikran broke through the coastal fog, you were already gone, out on a hunt, or patrolling the northern borders. He even began to suspect your brother, Ruk’e, was secretly warning you through some hidden signal, but he knew for a fact that the man had no way of communicating with you.
You were simply anticipating him. You were treating him like an incoming storm, closing your doors and retreating into a safe place before the first drop of rain could touch you.
By the fourth visit, Neteyam had reached his absolute limit. He didn't bring an escort, and he didn't use the main landing platforms. He left his ikran tethered half a league away, hidden in a dense thicket, and trekked up the rocky coastal paths on foot, his chest heaving, his heart hammering against his ribs. He was taking his father’s advice now, though he really hated the thought of surprising you.
He caught you by pure accident near the lower tide pools, where the cliffs formed a secluded cove. You were alone, repairing a frayed net, your long legs tucked beneath you on the smooth stone.When his shadow fell over you, you snapped your head up. For a second, your eyes widened in genuine, startled surprise. But the shock vanished, replaced instantly by that smooth mask of careful, polite nonchalance that made Neteyam’s stomach twist into a painful knot.
“Neteyam,” you said, your voice casual, but your fingers tightened so hard around the wooden netting needle. You made no move to stand, looking up at him as if he were nothing more than a passing trader. “What brings you here? Do you need help with anything, or were you sent here?”
You spoke the words with an easy, detached courtesy, even though your entire posture screamed that you wanted to be anywhere else but in front of him.
Neteyam closed the distance between you, his strides long and desperate. He didn't care about his dignity anymore. He didn't care that he was the commander of the ground forces or the son of Toruk Makto. He stopped just two paces away from you, his breath hitching as his eyes immediately swept down to your thigh. The bandage was gone, replaced by a white scar where the bullet had grazed you.
The sight of it made his throat tighten with a fresh wave of suffocating guilt.
“I wasn't sent, Y/N,” he said, his voice dropping into a low, fractured register. He took a half-step forward, his hands twitching at his sides, wanting so desperately to reach out but forcing himself to stay back. “I came because of you. I came because I want to talk to you. I... I cannot sleep, I cannot breathe, and I—”
You let out a sharp, sudden breath, dropping the netting needle into your lap. The polite facade finally cracked, and you stood up, your tail whipping the air behind you in a sudden flash of genuine irritation.
“Aren’t we over this, Neteyam?” you snapped, your eyes narrowing as you glared up at him. “We discussed this already. I thought we agreed to get past it.”
“Y/N, please—”
“No, listen to me,“ you cut him off, your voice rising, hard and sharp. “If this is about your guilt, you can lay it down. I told you before, I have nothing to forgive. I accepted your words because they were true. But if you are going to keep coming here with more pathetic apologies and diplomatic reassurances, you are actually going to make me angry.” You stepped closer. “I told you to stand by your words. If you cannot back your own words, Neteyam, I would be deeply disappointed. You are going to lead your clan one day, and an Olo'eyktan’s words must be solid as stone. If you are this fickle with your own tongue, how can anyone trust you?“
“That is the problem!” He said pointedly, his voice cracking with a raw, agonizing emotion as he grabbed your hand, his fingers locking around your wrist before you could pull away, his grip desperate but fiercely tender. “I regret my words, I regret them every single second of every day—”
You tried to wrench your wrist free, but he held fast, his eyes blazing down into yours with a terrifying, weeping intensity.
“I know I cannot take them back,” he breathed, his chest heaving as he stared into your eyes. “I know I cannot magically wipe away the pain I inflicted on you, and I know I cannot just hand you back the confidence that I shattered, but I will work on my hands and knees to bring you back to who you used to be. I will do whatever it takes, Y/N. I swear it to the Great Mother.”
You stopped pulling against his grip, your frame going completely rigid. A bitter huff escaped you, “I don't like who I used to be,” you whispered, and his head moved as if you’d slapped him. “And you said it yourself that day, you don't like it either. You said you were sick of it. You said I was a massive, childish distraction—”
“I was a fool!” he cried, his voice breaking completely. “I was terrified for the warriors, but most of all, I was terrified for you. When you fell from the sky... I thought I lost you. I let my fear turn into venom, and I threw it at the one person who didn't deserve it.”
You stared at him, your jaw tight, your breathing ragged. For a second, just a fraction of a second, Neteyam thought he saw a flicker of the old warmth that used to belong entirely to him. But then, your expression hardened again.
“It doesn't matter why you said it, Neteyam,” you said, your voice flat. “The fact remains that your assessment was correct. I was reckless, and I put lives at risk. Your cruelty was just the mirror I needed to see myself clearly. Now, let go of me. I have nets to mend."
Neteyam’s fingers slowly uncurled, his arm dropping to his side as if it had been cut. You didn't give him another glance, you simply sat back down on the rock, picked up your wooden needle, and began weaving the fibers with steady, unbothered precision.
That day was completely unproductive for him. He spent the remaining hours sitting on a boulder a few paces away, watching you work in absolute silence. You didn't speak to him again. You didn't look at him. You treated him like a piece of rock, completely ignoring his presence until the sun began to dip and he was forced to hike back to his ikran, his heart heavier than when he had arrived.
Neteyam did not give up. In fact, his failure only made him more relentless.
He began flying between the Omatikaya and the Tayrangi almost every single day, uncaring of the brutal, grueling transit on top of his patrols, trainings, and war meetings. He would wake up before the first light of dawn, complete his mandatory border patrols, and then immediately push his ikran through the treacherous mountain drafts just to spend an hour or two on the cliffs.
He became a desperate fixture in your clan. He didn't care how it looked to your people. He didn't care that they watched with raised eyebrows and murmurs of amusement as the proud Omatikaya heir practically degraded himself for a glimpse of their chieftain's daughter. He didn’t know how to fully show you how sorry he is, and how sorry he will be for the rest of his life, so he started with the absolute surrender of his pride.
If you were out in the lower fields gathering ocean kelp for the healers, Neteyam would appear beside you to help without a word. He would haul the heavy, water-logged crates onto his shoulders, carrying them up the steep cliff paths so you wouldn't have to. You would tell him to leave, your voice sharp with annoyance, but he would simply set his jaw, and go back down for another load.
When you were assigned to clean and grease the riding saddles, he would sit on the floor opposite you, taking the rough scraping stones out of your hands. He would spend hours working the stiff leather until his fingers blistered, quiet despite the clear annoyance and suffocating silence you serve him. Some days, you wouldn't even show yourself, your people telling him you went to patrol or hunted, leaving him sitting alone on the rocky ledges for hours.
But he always came back the next day.
One evening, after a particularly brutal afternoon where you had completely ignored his existence while he helped the elders fix something, he caught you as you walked back toward your family's yurt. The sky was a bruised purple, and the bioluminescence was casting a soft light across your face.
He called out your name, his voice light despite the clear exhaustion on his face. He looked terrible, his shoulders were bruised from hauling timber, but there was still the sharp, military crispness of his posture despite the air of a man who was running on nothing but sheer desperation.
You stopped, but you didn't turn around to face him. “Go home, Neteyam. Take the war seriously instead of spending so much of your time here. Your father needs you.”
“My father has other warriors,” Neteyam said, stepping closer. “I will not stop. I will come here every day. I will carry every basket, I will mend every net, I will bleed on these rocks until I’ve proven myself to you.”
You finally turned your head, looking over your shoulder at him. Your face was half-hidden in the shadows, but your eyes were fixed on him.
“You are wasting your time,” you said, though your voice devoid of its usual malice, carrying only a profound, weary sadness. “The girl who would have been happy with all of these is gone, Neteyam. Even I couldn’t bring her back. You cannot bring back something that no longer exists.”
His breath hitched, the words hitting him harder than any physical blow from his father’s training sessions. His ears pinned flat against his head, but he took a deep breath, lowering himself on his knees in front of you. You silently gasped, watching the proud, golden boy of the Omatikaya, who had been raised to hold his head high, lowering himself in the dirt of the Tayrangi cliffs.
“Then who is she now?“ he asked quietly. “Would you let me meet her?” he pleaded, looking up at you soulfully, his chest heaving. “If she is a stranger, then let me earn her. Let me learn the way she breathes, the way she speaks, what makes her laugh now. I do not care if it takes the rest of my life. I will build a bridge over whatever ocean you put between us.”
You looked down at him, your eyes tracing his bruised shoulders, the raw, blistered skin on his fingers, and the deep shadows under his eyes. He looked so tired, what with his duties back home and the tasks he’s killing himself to do here, only to be ignored by you.
“You are a fool, Neteyam,” you murmured softly.
“I am,” he agreed instantly, his eyes tired but fiercely intense. “I am a fool who took you for granted and hurt you, who took too long to realize that my world has no tilt on its axis if you don’t belong in it.”
You swallowed the lump in your throat. For many moons, you had kept your heart behind an impenetrable wall of ice, convincing yourself that what had happened broken something inside you that could never be mended. But looking at him now, no armor to break nor wall to climb, and entirely surrendered at your feet, a terrifyingly familiar warmth threatened to crack the frost.
You stepped around him, your tail flicking with a wave of mixed emotions. “The elders need the nets mended by first light tomorrow,” you said, not looking back as you pulled open the flap of your yurt. “If you are going to bleed on our rocks, you might as well make yourself useful.”
You left him outside and he watched the flap shut close with a twinkle in his eyes that hadn’t been there in moons. He let out a long breath, staying on his knees for a moment longer. A fierce, protective spark reignited in his chest. That wasn’t exactly forgiveness, but you had indirectly told him not to leave and tend to the nets, a complete opposite of how you’d pushed him away every single day in the past moons.
He’s not confident yet, but it was a crack in your armor.
Standing up, he wiped the dust from his knees, his eyes watching the flap with tangible longing, before deciding to walk down toward the docks where the torn nets lay waiting.
Days turned into weeks, and Neteyam’s presence in the cliffs before the first light ever crested the horizon has become a constant view. You were drinking your morning tea on a higher ledge when you saw him trekking up the hill, his ikran stubbornly left in a hidden thicket half a league away even though you’d stop avoiding him or fleeing away at the sight of his ikran. You’d seen where he hids his ikran and knew that he had to trek the rocky, miles-long paths on foot before he could even reach your home.
“You should have just brought your mount here instead of trekking that much distance,” you casually said.
He stared at you, as if surprised that you’d suggest that. “Maybe... Maybe tomorrow,” he replied.
Your eyes narrowed at how he was uncharacteristically wearing his warrior cummerbund. It was a gear he wears during missions, but one he rarely wore for casual labor. On top of that, he also looked too pale for your liking, his skin lacking its usual vibrance and his lips almost as white as sea foam.
“Did you come straight here from a mission?“ you probed and he immediately shook his head.
“Just patrol,” he answered, his voice a little gravelly.
Your eyes narrowed, refusing to press for more answers but you watched him almost the entire time, silently going straight to work, lifting heavy timber, hauling supply crates, and helping grease the stiff riding saddles of your clan’s riders. It was past mid-day when he finished, just in time for him to get back for the council meeting, if their schedule is still the same as you remembered.
You caught him just as he was walking down the mountain path. “Neteyam,” you called out.
He turned around immediately and you saw the slight sway that followed that sudden movement, which he tried to mask by shifting his weight.
“You should eat before you go,” you said, keeping your voice even. “I haven’t eaten yet, too... Only if you’d like,” you added.
A look of pure surprise crossed over his pale face. For a second, he just stared at you, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. The exhaustion weighing him down seemed to lift, replaced by a twinkle in his eyes that made you almost smile. Thank Eywa, you were able to stop yourself!
“I... I would like that,” he murmured, his voice soft.
He walked back with you into the communal yurt, aware of your people’s eyes tracking your movements. After all, this was the first time you actually invited him in for anything, knowing how their imaginative minds have long came up with stories of their own to explain the presence of the Toruk Makto’s heir in the Tayrangi.
He sat across from you and you noted how slow he seemed to be moving, having known how efficient he usually is, so you handed him a bowl of steaming soup and a plate of honeyed roasted fish that you’ve already cut into bite-sized pieces. His eyes were heavy on you that your skin seemed to tingle at your every move, too conscious of yourself knowing that he’s watching you.
Your eyes snapped to his, your brow rising. “Eat. The food will go cold,“ you said.
He nodded, redirecting his attention on his food. Despite the pain on his side, a sense of profound peace seemed to settle over him. He was sitting across from you, eating your food, sharing your space. He was so glad he perservered to go today. Whatever agony pokes at him under his tight cummerbund was a cheap price to pay for this single moment with you.
When the bowl was completely empty, he placed it down with meticulous care, waiting for you to finish without speaking, but halfway your meal, your eyes snapped up to his.
“You can go, if you wished,” you said casually.
“Believe me, I do not wish to be anywhere but here,” he replied. “I knew I would have to wait, you were always a slow-eater.”
Your lips pushed forward. He knows that. You tilted your head to brush it off. “I’ve grown faster since I became a huntress,” you retorted.
“Hm. I wish I can see it,” he said, his voice laced with humor.
You stuffed the rest of your food into your mouth, chewing non-stop as your cheeks filled with food bubbling like a syaksyuk eating utumauti. A snort escaped him as he watches you, one that turned into a genuine laugh, though it was cut short, his ears twitching and his jaw tightening as he suppressed a grimace.
“Why?” you asked, your voice muffled by the food in your mouth. He looked like he was pained.
He shook his head, leaning forward with his elbows on the low table. He handed you a bowl of water. “Slow down, syaksyuk, or you’ll choke...”
He chuckled when you rolled your eyes before ccepting the water he offered, continuously chewing. Once you were finished, you finally spoke, “You should get moving,” you said softly, reaching over to stack his empty bowl onto your plate. “If you are late for the council meeting, they might think that Toruk Makto’s heir lacks discipline. We don’t want that.”
Neteyam let out a quiet sigh, the humor fading into a weary but profoundly content expression. He slowly pushed himself up from the ground, a sharp, involuntary gasp escaping his teeth before his hand flew to his ribs, but he quickly converted the movement into a stretch. He looked down at you with a lingering fondness.
“Thank you for the meal,” he said softly. “I must head to the council now. I will... I will be back tomorrow. With my ikran, if you meant what you said.”
You went to stand, following him out of the communal space to walk him only until the ledge. “Take care...” you whispered in the wind as you watched him go. Your eyes narrowed, noting how unusually heavy his steps were. He really looked remarkably weak.
You figured you'd ask him tomorrow, but your suspicion was answered much sooner than you expected. In the dead of night, Ruk’e quietly entered your yurt, his expression unusually grave.
“Pack your weapons,” he said, his voice low. “The war council needs you back urgently. The RDA is pushing the western flank, and they need every competent ikran rider back in the air.” He paused for a moment before adding, “Mother agrees it is time.”
He left out the part where Jake Sully himself spoke with him. What you didn't know was that back at the Omatikaya hometree, Neteyam had fallen ill through the night. Yesterday, during a swift ambush on an RDA scout unit, a stray shrapnel had torn into his midriff. It was just a minor injury that required only bed rest, but Neteyam had completely ignored the Tsahik's orders. He had wrapped it tightly, hidden it beneath his cummerbund, and flown straight to the Tayrangi to help haul your clan's imports.
When he returned to the forest, he could barely stand. His wound was bleeding beneath his cummerbund, and his body hot with fever.
Now, he lay on a mat in the Tsahik’s tent, practically delirious. Neytiri sat near him, her tail whipping in a furious frenzy as she scolded him. “You went to the Tayrangi? What did you even do there that you’d managed to have your flesh torn open?! Have you lost your mind, Neteyam?!”
Through the haze of his fever, Neteyam weakly opened his eyes. “Mother... it’s fine. I am fine. Just... do not tell her. She wants me to bring... My ikran tomorrow...” his mouth formed into a lazy smile.
“What?!” Neytiri cried out, her voice breaking in panic. “Neteyam, you could barely open your eyes, and you're flying back there again to do only the Great Mother knows what?!“
“Mother, it’s okay,” he muttered, brushing her hands away.
Jake stepped into the tent, his large hand resting on his wife's shoulder to calm her, though he himself was worried. “You can't do this to yourself, boy. You're going to kill yourself before the RDA even gets a chance to.”
Neteyam let out a long, ragged sigh, his eyes closed. “Have you ever had someone be your entire world, Dad?” he whispered, his voice laced with contentment. “We ate together earlier... And it felt like my entire world was narrowed down on that table... With her sitting across from me. I don't think... I don't think I can miss a single day not seeing her. If I stop showing up... She will think I gave up.”
Neytiri’s fury slowly melted away, her face falling as she watched her son finally drift into a deep, feverish sleep. She turned to Jake and his eyes snapped to her, sharing a look of understanding.
The next morning, you walked with mother and brother to the war pavilion. You had flown back with Ruk’e at dawn, your mind focused on the reports Ruk’e has told you, but some parts of you were thinking about how Neteyam would react seeing you back in the council. Now, he wouldn't have to exhaust himself flying from the forest to the Eastern Coast.
The council welcomed you, asking you about things back home and slowly easing the current climate regarding the sky people into the conversation. You assured them your brother has told you and that you know what you came here for. You turned to the pavilion’s entrance when you heard an entourage enter, freezing at the sight you saw.
Neteyam entered first, his midriff wrapped with a medical woven fabric, and there was an unmistakable fresh smear of blood already blooming through the center of the cloth. He looked very pale. His head casually snapped to your direction, and the absolute shock on his face mirrored your own. Written on his forehead was a huge why are you here?
He instinctively took a half-step backward, his tail twitching as if he wanted to flee the pavilion entirely rather than let you see him like this. But Jake was standing directly behind him. His father placed a firm, unyielding hand on his shoulder, gently prompting him forward into the room. Neteyam swallowed hard, forced his chin up, and continued walking as if everyone in the pavilion didn’t witness his panic at the sight of you.
Well, it’s not like these people are oblivious to his daily trips to the Tayrangi. They had known, it’s only that they didn’t know exactly what for though they had a hunch. And now, he practically confirmed it. He was persistently going there for you.
Meanwhile, the pieces in your mind instantly fell into place. His paleness yesterday, the cummerbund, the obvious weariness... He had been bleeding out while lifting things that normally needed the strength of two men.
“Thank you all for gathering so quickly,” Jake began, clearing his throat as he addressed the elders. “I spoke with Ikeyni and Ruk’e yesterday. We have expanded our flight perimeters, and we drastically need our most skilled ikran riders back in the vanguard. Y/N has agreed to step back into her role.”
As the chieftains murmured their approval, the briefing began. You forced your mind to focus, stepping up to the map table to report on the coastal movements. “The Tayrangi borders are currently stable,” you said, your voice serious and level. “We ran three separate scouts and extended it along the northern reef daily. So far, it's untouched.”
You reached across the wide table for a wooden marker to illustrate the scout lines, but your fingers missed it by a few inched. Before you could lean forward again, a hand moved into your field of vision.
Neteyam picked up the marker for you.
As he extended his arm, a subtle flinch crossed his features. His jaw clenched so hard the muscles in his neck strained, the simple effort of reaching across the table obviously hurt him. But when his golden eyes turned to meet yours, the pain vanished behind a cool mask of a hardened warrior. He stared at you with an intense, unblinking focus that made your face feel incredibly hot.
The silence stretched for a beat too long. Jake cleared his throat loudly, and from the corner of the pavilion, Lo'ak let out a highly audible, mocking snicker.
You quickly tore your gaze away, your cheeks burning. “Thanks...” you muttered, looking at the map through your lashes.
“You're welcome,” Neteyam drawled, his voice low and smooth despite the sweat glistening on his brow.
You bit your lip, your cheeks still burning as you forced your voice to level to continue your report. The moment the council was dismissed, Neteyam stayed back, lingering by his father's side to converse with the elders. He was very obviously trying to avoid leaving the pavilion at the same time as you.
But you weren't going to let him escape. You walked out with your arms crossed and waited right outside the entrance, your eyes already narrowed into slits. When Neteyam finally emerged, he stopped dead in his tracks. Seeing you standing there like a warden, he took a breath and adjusted his posture, walking toward you with every ounce of military bravado he could muster, desperately trying to hide the slight limp in his stride. The red stain on his white bandage had grown wider.
“What is that?” you demanded without so much as a greeting, gesturing sharply to his torso.
Neteyam stopped two paces away, his expression carefully neutral as he looked away toward the trees. “Just a minor injury from the recent mission. It is nothing.”
“You got shot?” you pressed, stepping closer, your voice rising in genuine disbelief.
“It's a shrapnel,” he corrected quickly as if that made it all better.
“Great! An iron slug tore through your side, and you still came to the coast yesterday? You still did the heavy lifting? You still hiked miles on foot to your ikran?!”
“It was just small,” he lied smoothly, though his breathing was shallow.
“Then why is it actively bleeding?!“ your voice rose slightly.
“It just got strained yesterday, but it’s nothing serious—”
“Are you insane?!” you huffed, your anger finally boiling over. “My father died from a small wound and left my mother a widow, Neteyam! You are not thinking! You have a responsibility to this war, to your family, to your people! How can you preach to me about discipline and taking things seriously when you are out there compromising your own body for something so small?!”
Neteyam listened to your tirade, his ears pinning back slightly against his head. But he didn't flinch away from your fury, instead, he watched you with that stupidly twinkling eyes. He took a step closer, the hardened soldier completely melting away to reveal the raw, aching man underneath.
“What are you calling small? Your forgiveness? Your attention? The chance I was asking for from you? It’s not small to me, Y/N. It is everything to me... And right now, it is all that is holding me together,” he said softly, his golden eyes locking onto yours with a terrifying intensity.
“Must you really put yourself at risk like that?” you cried, throwing your hands up in exasperation.
He groaned, closing his eyes momenyarily, when you could no longer hold your tears back. You are so scared right now, so worried for him, it’s not even funny.
“Just let me, alright? I said I will do everything to earn the right to at least be near you again, and this is me standing by my words. Like what you told me to do,“ he said, his voice cracking under the weight of his conviction. He stepped into your space, ignoring the sharp twinge in his side. “I told you, I will do whatever it takes. I did not want to miss a single day of trying to show you that I will show up. Even if I am bleeding, even if you do not look at me, I will be there.”
You stared at him, your breath catching in your throat. The sheer, stubborn idiocy of his devotion was infuriating, but beneath the anger, that stubborn wall of ice around your heart suffered another massive, catastrophic crack.
“Well, you don't have to do all that anymore,” you said, looking down at his bleeding bandage, your tone softening into something weary. “I am back on the council now. I will be here in the forest. You don't need to fly to the coast for me.”
“It does not change anything,” Neteyam countered instantly. He reached out, his hand hovering near your arm, close enough for you to feel the heat of his fever, though he refrained from touching you. “Just because you are back in the pavilion does not mean I am done. I will still work for your forgiveness, Y/N. I will still do everything in my power until you can look at me and trust me the way you used to. I am not stopping.”
You looked up at him, your mouth slightly open, completely at a loss for words. You mouth opened again to retort, but before you could even speak, a sudden, frantic rustling erupted from the pavilion entrance. Lo’ak came scrambling out, his limbs flailing wildly as he tried to prevent himself from falling into the dirt.
You and Neteyam quickly turned to him, only to get surprised to see not just Lo’ak, but an entire audience: Jake, Neytiri, Ikeyni, and Ruk’e. They were all standing completely still, their expressions a mix of profound interest and varying degrees of amusement. But because Lo’ak had tripped and completely blown their cover, the privacy shattered instantly.
Ikeyni was the first to recover, clearing her throat with a loud, entirely performative cough. “Ah... Ruk'e, we must go and inspect the riders at the vanguard. Immediately.“
Neytiri smoothed down her braids, her sharp eyes twinkling as she looked anywhere but at her eldest son. “Ah, and I must find Tuk. We have... things to gather. Many things.“
Jake offered a highly unconvincing nod, clapping a hand on a thoroughly embarrassed Lo’ak’s shoulder. “Right. And I have an urgent meeting with the elders about... perimeter lines.”
“I am hungry,” Ruk’e announced flatly to the sky, ignoring the fact that he had consumed a massive breakfast less than an hour ago.
Lo’ak let out a low whistle, backing away alongside the adults. Within three seconds, the entire crowd had vanished, leaving you two alone.
You turned back to Neteyam, your ears pinning flat against your head as you glared at him, trying desperately to mask the raging blush creeping up your neck. “You need to go see the Tsahik. Right now. You are bleeding through your bandage.”
Neteyam nodded, but he didn't move. He stayed standing there, towering over you, watching your fiery exasperation with a soft, maddening look of pure adoration. You groaned, a sound of defeat tearing from your throat.
Reaching out, you firmly grabbed his wrist and began dragging him yourself toward the Tsahik’s tent. “Move, you stubborn man,” you muttered. You figured you wanted to see exactly how small this wound actually was.
When you pulled him into the warmth of the Tsahik’s tent, Mo’at didn't look even remotely surprised to see you practically hauling the clan's golden heir by his arm.
“Ah, and he returns,” Mo’at remarked dryly, setting down a bowl of poultice. “Did I not tell you last night, Neteyam, when you came home violently ill and shaking with fever, that your flesh would tear? Look at this!”
With practiced, firm hands, she unclipped the medical wrap. When the bloody fabric fell away, your breath hitched, and you winced sharply.
The wound was not small. It was an angry tear about as long as your pinky finger, stretching deep into the muscle of his side, the edges raw and weeping fresh blood from where he had strained it.
“You are a liar,” you hissed, the fear in your chest turning into a surge of anger. You reached out and forcefully pinched his shoulder. “You said it was small!”
Neteyam’s hand instantly shot up, his fingers gently trapping yours against his shoulder. His twinkling eyes locked onto yours, completely unbothered by the pinch, and he flashed a rare smile that showed his pearly whites. It was so genuine, so disarming, that the hot anger in your chest simmered down into a helpless flutter.
“There is nothing to worry about, Y/N,” he murmured softly. “I’ve had worse before.”
You merely hissed at him in response, pulling your hand back.
Mo’at wiped the blood away and applied a fresh layer of soothing poultice, wrapping the midriff with tight, clean linen. Once finished, she stood up, turning her sharp gaze directly onto you. “Y/N, I am entrusting this hard-headed man to you. He does not listen to me, to his mother, or to his father. He needs strict bed rest. That wound will never close if he keeps moving and straining himself.”
You nodded with absolute solemnity, crossing your arms. “You can trust me, Tsahik. I will personally castrate this man if he even thinks about lifting a finger.”
Mo’at let out a rare, breathy chuckle, shaking her head as she gathered her bowls and exited the tent, leaving the two of you alone.
You turned to him. “Sleep,” you hissed.
“Alright, alright,” he mumbled, a soft chuckle escaping him as he sank into the furs with a weary sigh, his eyes half-closed as he looked up at you through his lashes. “No need for castration... that would make you miss your babies...”
The last words were a barely audible, sleepy whisper, but the tent was so quiet that they rang like a bell in your ears. “What?!” you snapped, your entire face exploding in a violent heat.
Neteyam just smiled lazily, turning his head onto the fur pillow. “Sleeping now...”
True to your word, you made sure he took his rest. For the next week, you refused to let him leave the Tsahik’s tent unless necessary, sitting by his side, forcing him to eat, and threatening him with your dagger whenever he tried to sit up too fast.
But once his fever broke and the wound finally closed into a healthy, silver seam, he went back to waiting at your feet, and he became entirely shameless. He would bring you the sweetest fruits before morning drills, sharpen your arrow tips and hunting dagger, and sit quietly beside you during meals, completely content just to exist in the same space. He was still the same as before. There was no pushing or demanding, only working to seamlessly wove himself into your daily routines.
If you are to be asked when exactly did the remaining ice around your heart melted, you’d say it had turned into a puddle long ago. But now, as the Hometree came alive with the people singing and dancing to celebrate a turn of successful hunts, your chest was singing with a familiar hum. One you never thought you’d feel again. You stood near the outer roots, watching the dancers, when a familiar warmth bloomed at your side.
Neteyam stood beside you, wearing his formal warrior gear. He didn’t speak, but his hand hung loosely between you, his fingers inches from yours. You bit your lip, looking at his profile through your lashes, noting his sharp jawline and his beautiful patterns. It was the same image of the boy you swore to make fall in love with you. You wondered what thirteen-year-old you would have thought if she knew that this man literally bled into the dirt just to prove he wouldn't give up on you.
You let out a soft, long sigh. Slowly, deliberately, you moved your hand to intertwine your fingers with his.
Neteyam froze. His head snapping down to look at your joined hands, and when he lifted his eyes to yours, they were bright, watering. “Y/N...” he breathed, his voice trembling.
“What?” you whispered, a soft, familiar smirk finally returning to your lips. “Some would say this is the perfect time for a kiss... Unless you’re scared,” you mumbled.
He blinked, his forehead creasing for a moment before a ragged, breathless laugh escaped him. It was you who moved and tiptoed to press a soft kiss on his lips, and you felt his arm wrap around you, pulling you closer, kissing you better. You smiled against his lips.
“I forgive you, Neteyam...” you pulled away only to murmur, and he chased your lips.
“I love you...“ he murmured, pressing his forehead against yours. The sheer, unadulterated happiness radiating from him was intoxicating, and you cannot help but grin.
But the beautiful moment was violently ripped away when a deafening horn blew, shattering the festival music and the celebration.
“Fire! Fire! Fire!” The people announced.
High above, in the eastern branches of the Hometree’s canopy, a terrifying orange glow erupted. Your breath seized at your chest, a cry of panic escaping you as the people frantically ran to and fro in all directions. Neteyam moved, signaling to the nearby hunters.
“All hunters! Gather water from the river! Move!” he roared, crisp and authoritative.
The communal clearing exploded into calculated chaos. You and Neteyam sprinted toward the lower roots, organizing lines of warriors to haul water containers up the massive vines, while flyers are gathering water from the river to splash it to extinguish the fire. At first, everyone thought it was an accident, but as the smoke cleared, a familiar deep thrumming vibrated through the air.
From the clouds, the shapes of sever RDA gunships dropped into view firing blindly into the canopy.
“To the air!” Jake’s booming voice echoed.
You and Neteyam sprinted to the high roosts, connecting to your ikrans in a synchronized flash of movement and flying into the open sky where the warriors on their ikrans were already fighting fiercely. You dove through the smoke to shoot pilots and sent arrows to the exposed underbellies of gunships you happen to get close to. Within an hour, the invading gunships were spiraling into the jungle in balls of fire.
You watched the fire it caused to the forest, your chest aching with fury and grief at the sight of it.
The war party was victorious, but the destruction it brought made all of you grim. The eastern branches of Hometree were charred black, but it didn’t burn the entirety, and fortunately, no one was dead or gravely injured.
The council convened immediately beneath the glowing roots, the air thick with tension.
“It is no longer safe to keep the children and the elders here. Hometree is too big a target,“ Jake said, his face shadowed by the firelight as he leaned over the map.
“We must relocate... for the meantime,” Neytiri agreed, her voice tight with grief.
“The Hallelujah Mountains. It’s filled of magnetic interference, their metal birds wouldn’t like it very much up there,” Neteyam spoke up, placing a stone on a specific grid of the map.
Jake nodded decisively. “We’ll send scouts, then we’ll evacuate those who cannot fight immediately. The warriors will stay on the ground to secure the perimeter and prepare our counter-strike.”
The plan was drawn swiftly. Jake didn’t want to wait longer. As soon as the clan is evacuated, the party will strike back. As you ordered some Tayrangi men to help with the evacuation, Neteyam caught your arm near the edge of the pavilion, his grup firm and his eyes holding a fierce, protective spark in them.
“After... After the battle is over...” he began, his eyes blinking too many times per second as he stammered for the right words to say.
“Hm?“ you prompted.
“Would you like...“ he trailed. “To have me as your mate?” he added, his words stumbling over one another, and even in the dark, you could see how his cheeks were tinted purple.
You blinked, your heart jumping at your throat, causing it to close as your eyes stung with hot tears. “How could I ever say no to that?” you said in a hoarse voice, your hand holding his firmly.
He pulled you close. “Yes?” he asked breathlessly and you nodded. His breath audibly caught in his throat, leaning forward to kiss you and pulling you even closer to deepen his kiss.
Neteyam broke the kiss reluctantly, his forehead resting against yours for one final, desperate second as the chaos of evacuation whirled around you two. He held your face in his hands, pressing another deep kiss. “Great Mother. I love you so much...”
You chuckled, gripping his forearm. “Glad you’ve finally caught up,“ you mumbled, giving him a peck.
“I have always been here, I was just stupid,” he chuckled, his eyes caressing your face.
The tender moment shattered, though, when a loud cough echoed from the shadows. Neteyam stiffened, and you pulled back just enough to see your brother stepping into the dim light. He had his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes narrowed at Neteyam that practically shouted an order to let you go this exact second.
Neteyam cleared his throat, his hands slowly lowering, though he kept his fingers loosely holding your hip for just a heartbeat longer before fully stepping back. You bit your lip, stopping yourself from smiling as you took Neteyam’s hand to hold it. Ruk’e looked at you with a look that would normally be accompanied with a snort.
“Mother is looking for you. Right now. She says the Tayrangi scouts need their final instructions for the eastern ridge, and you're the only one who knows the layout of the lower caves.”
You pushed your lips forward. “I'm on my way,” you said, turning to Neteyam and tiptoeing to kiss him again. You bit his lower lip before pulling away, patting his chest. “Later.“
You turned away, your tail moving behind you, its hairy tip brushing his lower abdomen. You heard his gasp and you grinned as you walked away. You brought this small pocket of joy as your ikran perched on a cliff along with the others, waiting for the signal to fight. Neteyam was several ikrans away from you, although Toruk’s big head was almost hiding him from sight. He caught your gaze, giving you a fierce, sharp nod.
The signal came not from a horn, but from the unnatural tremor of distant explosions. War cries from your people and from the warriors from various clans erupted as hundreds of ikran took to the sky.
You plunged off the ledge, diving straight into the smoke. Your ikran, holding a large boulder in its hind legs, flew over a gunship’s rotors and threw the boulder with a force that tilted the gunship before it exploded into a ball of orange flame. You banked hard, narrowly dodging a volley of gunfire directed at you.
You pulled your ikran’s reins up, pulling the string of your bow before releasing an arrow through the glass of the gunship pursuing you. You watched the vehicle spin wildly, clipping another gunship before exploding into the nearest floating mountain. A sharp war cry tore from your throat, raising your bow before flying higher.
Below, you found Neteyam, riding with the reckless bravery of Toruk Makto himself, but with the terrifying precision of Neytiri. He guided his ikran into a dive, sending arrow grenades directly onto the rotors of a Dragon Assault ship, flying upstream before the large aircraft blasted, his war cry echoing over the din of combat.
For what seemed like hours, the sky bled. Whenever you feared you couldn't find Neteyam in the swirling ikrans flying in the air, he’d appear by your side, moving perfectly synchronized with you. Every time a threat closed in on your blind spot, Neteyam’s arrow finds them. Every time gunships threatened to box him in, your own lethal accuracy puts an end to it.
By the time the sun began to dip below the horizon, the final RDA gunship was on a slow descent in flames. This should be a victorious moment, but the sight of the burning jungle below you filled you with a grief that seized your breath. The adrenaline of the battle took hours to fade, but after securing the perimeter of the clan’s hideout, and convening with the council to speak of the next steps the party should take to completely batter the RDA, you felt Neteyam’s hand catch your forearm again.
You turned to him, your excitement bubbling in your chest despite your exhaustion. You followed him as he navigated some steep edges and climbed a few vines, wondering where exactly you two are going, but when he pulled you up on what seemed like a hidden hollow, the sight of a secluded, bioluminescent pool surprised you. The water glowed with a soft, blue light, casting shifting, watery patterns across the jagged walls.
Your mouth curled into a huge smile, turning to him. “This is beautiful...”
“Found it when I was sixteen aimlessly flying around here. I thought then that maybe this could be a place for dates with my mate,” he said, smiling at you, his face devoid of tension.
“Dates?” you echoed.
“It’s... a human thing. My parents often go on dates. Just the two of them, spending time with each other...” he explained.
You smiled, “I like that.”
His hand traveled up your forearm to hold your elbow, pulling you closer. “Good. Because I’ve always thought of bringing you in this place,” he mumbled.
You looked up at him, the soft blue light from the pool catching the warmth in his eyes. “Even back then?”
“Yes,” he murmured, his voice dropping into a reverent tone that made your chest tighten pleasantly. He reached down and gently slid his fingers between yours, leading you to the edge of the water. It was you who pulled him to sink into its chilly waters. “Even when I was trying to convince myself that I had to have laser focus on my duty, to be the most competent warrior I could be for my people, you were always the exception... You were always the tilt in my world.“
He held your jaw in his hand, leaning forward to press a soft kiss on your lips. His arms wrapped around your waist, his forehead pressed against yours.
“I know you forgave me. I know you said I didn't have to keep doing... all of that. But I need to say it, ” he paused, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. “I am so sorry. I will always be sorry... For the words I threw at you, for the pain I caused, for making you feel like you had to change who you were. I will spend the rest of my life making sure you never feel that way again.”
You moved your head slightly, you nose brushing his. The raw, unshielded vulnerability in his golden eyes was breathtaking. The proud, stubborn commander of the Omatikaya was completely laid bare before you, entirely surrendered. You have only ever dreamed of that.
“Neteyam,” You said softly, cupping his jaw with both hands. He stared at you, his eyes bright and swimming with an overwhelming wave of emotion. “The girl who used to be reckless might be gone, but the woman standing in front of you loves you more than she ever did,” you whispered, a soft, tearful smile breaking across your face. “I see you, Neteyam. I see everything you've done to make up for what you did. You don't have to carry the guilt anymore. Lay it down.”
A breathless sigh escaped his lips, and he closed his eyes, leaning heavily into the palm of your hand as if a massive weight had finally been lifted from his shoulders. When he opened them again, the absolute devotion burning within them made your heart skip a beat. “I love you,” he breathed, his words an unbreakable vow. “Baby, I love you so much.”
He leaned forward, capturing your lips in a kiss that was entirely different from the stolen moments before the battle. This was slow, deep, yet desperate. You groaned softly, your fingers tangling into his braids, he pulled you even closer until there was no space left between you. His hands moved down to your hips, gently stepping you back until you hit the velvety edge of the pool.
He pulled away to look down at your face, his large form towering over you so much now that you’re nearly lying down on the flat edge. Slowly, deliberately, he brought his kuru forward, the glowing tendrils at the tip unfurling, searching for anything to connect with. “Are you sure you want me as your husband?”
You raised a brow, “Is that a warning?”
He pressed a hard kiss on your lips. “It’s only that there is no turning back... You are mine. Forever.” he whispered conspiratorially.
You took your kuru behind you, “I’ve never been one to turn back in fear...” You met him halfway, bringing your kuru forward until the tendrils entwined in a sudden, breathtaking flash of pure energy that caused borh of you to jerk involuntarily. You watched his pupils dilate, the black almost swallowing the gold.
His world felt as though it expanded, then narrowed down to just you, while you could feel the steady, powerful thrum of his heartbeat as if it were beating in your own chest. You felt the raw, overwhelming depth of his love for you, the fear he felt he drove you away from him, the desperation that ate at him when you no longer cared for him, the hope that bloomed in him when you were so worried about his small wound, and the pure, weeping joy that had consumed him when you finally held his hand at the festival.
You let out a ragged, trembling breath, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck and pulled him down into a deep, bruising kiss. Neteyam groaned softly against your lips, his arms instantly locking around your waist. He pulled you flush against his chest, lifting you slightly off the stone as if he couldn't get you close enough. The kiss shifted from soft and tender, to the desperate hardness of a man who wanted to devour you.
His hands were everywhere on your body, unclasping your beaded top and untying your loincloth behind your tail. You chuckled in his ears when his hand on your tail tickled you, and he angled his head to press a hard kiss on your jaw, shedding your loincloth off of you. He hauled you up to the ledge before following you to hover over you, his chest heaving as he looked down at you, naked under him. The cool blue light of the secluded pool danced across his broad shoulders, making you shiver with awareness about how large of a man he actually is. He looked down at you with a hunger born from years of restraining himself.
His large hands slid down from your waist, his thumbs tracing your curves down to you thighs before firmly pressing your thighs apart. You let out a soft gasp as the cool air hit your skin, but the chill was instantly replaced by the intense heat of his body as he settled between your knees. He looked up at you, his eyes dark and searching, demanding you witness exactly how completely he belonged to you.
Slowly, he lowered himself, his calloused hands guiding your knees wider, draping your legs over his broad shoulders. Your breath caught in your throat as his breath fanned across the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. He pressed a soft, lingering kiss to the smooth skin of your knee, then another higher up, tracking a slow, agonizing path inward until you were trembling beneath him.
“Neteyam,” you called, panicking as you pushed him back by his shoulder.
His eyes snapped up to you, his eyes dark and dangerous, as if waiting for you to tell him no, but the heat in his eyes flustered you with a heat on your cheeks. He kissed your inner thigh again, and when his lips finally found the center of your heat, a sharp gasp escaped you, your hand squeezing his shoulder.
He pressed a gentle hand on your chest, travelling a bit sideways to cup your breast. “Lay back,“ he mumbled and you did, propping yourself up on your elbows.
His lips found you again and he groaned against your flesh, his hands wrapping securely around the back of your thighs to hold you steady as he parted you with his fingers. His tongue was warm, broad, and too deliberate, drawing upward, tasting you fully. The connection through your entwined kurus sent a jolt of unadulterated pleasure down his spine, and in turn, you could feel his own arousal spiking through the bond, heavy and demanding.
You arched your hips off the ground, your fingers digging into the thick roots beside your head. “Neteyam...” you whimpered, your head rolling back.
He grew even relentless, his pace quickening, his tongue swirling and pressing harder against your sensitive nub. Your hips bucked when his finger slid inside you, feeling uncomfortable with the slight stretch as his mouth sucked at your heat. The sensation was too noverwhelming, and the bond is only amplifying everything. You could feel his deep satisfaction at your undoing, his pride swelling as your body began to tighten around his fingers, and with a firm stroke of his tongue, you felt a powerful tremor in your body, a loud sob tearing from your throat as your thighs clamped around his head.
Neteyam held you through the tremors, swallowing your heat, his purr vibrating heavily against you until your breathing began to slow. As he dragged himself back up to hover over you, his face flushed and his lips glistening, you caught your breath. “That was insane...” you huffed.
His eyes lightened a bit, the darkness yielding to his curiosity. “Really?“
“You know how good it felt for me,” you smiled, tugging at your entwined kurus. A sudden, wicked spark flared in your chest, traveling straight through the bond to hit him. “I want to do it to you, too,” you whispered, your voice husky, your eyes locking onto his.
Neteyam blinked, a sudden wave of heat washing through his expression as his pupils dilated further. “You don’t need—”
“No,” you cut him off, your hands sliding down his muscled abdomen, until it lowered where you felt him. He breathe sharply when you felt him through his loincloth, your hand gripping the massive hardness. “I want it in my mouth, too...”
He closed his eyes for a moment before giving in with a low, defeated groan, shedding his loincloth off before rolling onto his back on the moss. You chuckled, the sound so womanly to him he felt a currently of electricity running exclusively on the margins of his body, causing his ears to pin back against his ears as he watched you rose on your knees, parting your thighs to straddle him.
His hand moved to touch you between your thighs and you jolted with a loud moan, nearly falling over if you didn’t catch yourself by propping a hand on his chest. His fingers caressed your velvety folds, gathering your fresh wetness.
“I need to concentrate, ‘Teyam...” you groaned and he chuckled. You saw him bring his fingers into his mouth.
“Sorry... You just taste so good,” he licked his lips, reaching to kiss you, but you moved your head to kiss his jaw instead.
You pressed soft kisses on his skin, contrasting his hard and heavy kisses. His hands hovered at your waist, his head falling back, letting you slide down his body. He watched you through heavy eyelids, his hands clenching into fists at his sides as you positioned yourself between his muscled thighs. You bit your lip at the sight of his length fully erect, thick, and leaking a bead of thick pre-cum at its tip.
You leaned down, your braids brushing against his thighs as you wrapped your lips around the smooth, hot head of his shaft. Neteyam’s breath hitched violently. He threw his head back against the moss, his jaw clenching so hard the cords in his neck strained as you took him into your mouth, your hands fisting and moving by instinct. Your tongue swirled around the ridge, your hand wrapping around the base to stroke him as your mouth moved.
He moaned, his hips bucking as the bond flared with a white hot intensity. Through the connection, you felt the sheer, agonizing pleasure ripping through him, the tight, desperate control he was trying to maintain as the wet warmth of your mouth drove him insane.
“Oh, baby, please, I can't—“ he gasped out, his hips lifting involuntarily off the ground as your mouth sucked him harder. He reached down, his large hands tangling into your braids.
You thought he was going to push you away, but he only held your head there with more pressure for a few more desperate seconds that his largeness almost choked you, but then he gently pulled you up, his breathing completely shattered. You groaned, frowning that he had to pull his cock out of your mouth.
He looked you in the eyes, serious and with finality. “No more. I want to come inside you.”
He hauled you up by your waist, flipping you beneath him in one fluid motion. He was completely done with waiting. His large hand pinned both your wrists above your head, his other hand holding your waist in place as he aligned his hard length against your softness, his mouth coming down to capture yours.
With a slow, heavy thrust, Neteyam began burying himself inside you, until he’d sank in entirely. You wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders , letting out a breathless cry, feeling your walls stretching to accommodate him. The sheer, overwhelming sensation of the fit sent an exquisite pleasure for the both of you through the bond, and it felt as though your souls were melting into one another, leaving no distinction between where you and him stand.
Neteyam paused for a second, his eyes closing as he absorbed the tight, wet heat of your walls squeezing him. A ragged groan tore from his chest before he began to move in a pace that was immediately hard, deep, and desperate, as if he was pouring into you all the pent-up energy he had left from the battle.
He drove into you with a fiercely possessive rhythm, his hips pounding against yours with a strength that had you crying out his name. Every time he pulled back, he returned deeper, marking you, claiming every inch of your body as his own. His arm wrapped under your body, while the other hand hiked your knee up to your chest, making sure you receive each of his forceful thrust.
The bond left no walls or armors to crack, both of you feeling only the pure, intoxicating love, devotion, and absolute surrender you have for each other. The tension in your lower abdomen coiled tighter and tighter until it was unbearable. Neteyam’s pace became frantic, his jaw locked, his eyes fixed on yours with a terrifying intensity as he felt your walls begin to tighten around him.
“Oh, baby,” he choked out, his grip on your thigh tightening.
You screamed his name as your body convulsed around him, the pleasure shattering your vision into a thousand white sparks. Your grip on him triggered his own release, and a deep, guttural roar escaped him as he thrust brutally deep into you one last time and held himself there, his body stiffening as he spilled himself completely inside you.
“Fuck, I’m seeing stars...” he groaned, collapsing against your chest, his head buried in the crook of your neck, his own chest rising and falling in ragged, exhausted gasps. You broke into a weakened laugh, your hold on him loosening up a little as you pressed soft kisses on his temple.
The weeks that followed were a blur of war council meetings, suffocating maps, and aerial patrols around the High Camp. The ongoing struggle against the RDA had left very little time for you and Neteyam to enjoy your first days together, but it’s when you’re high above the sky that everything seemed to be yours.
You banked hard to the left, your ikran letting out a shrill cry as the wind rushed past your ears. Behind you, Neteyam dipped beneath a floating vine, a wild, unburdened laugh tearing from his throat. For a few glorious hours, the shadow of the RDA did not touch you. There were no battles, no strategies, and no bloodshed. There was only the dizzying feeling of flying, the wind, and the intoxicating freedom of racing the Neteyam through the floating mountains and its hanging vines.
He pulled up right beside you, his ikran's wingtip nearly brushing yours. When he turned his head, his golden eyes were bright, his smile throwing all his typical military crispness to the wind. You flashed him a sharp, challenging smirk, diving straight through a cascading waterfall.
“Keep up!” you taunged, leaving him to chase your laughter through the mist.
By nightfall, the adrenaline gave way to the familiar craving for quiet. You returned to the hidden hollow, slipping into the bioluminescent pool. The chilly waters swirled around your waist as Neteyam hugged you sideways, his chin finding your shoulder, bending his large frame to fit himself at your side.
Every night felt different, but tonight was calmer, filled with your soft mumurs and his low, rumbling chatters as you talked for hours about nothing at all, your fingers tracing the faint, silvery marks of his scars, before the talking faded into the slow and heavy rhythm of your lovemaking.
You are a impatient woman, but you couldn’t deny your love for his deliberate, agonizing slowness sometimes, his hands anchoring your waist as he worshipped you. Every thrust was deep and strong, his lips pressed to your throat, whispering your name like a prayer until the sensations from the bond left you both breathless, tangled together in a sweating, blissful heap.
The sky was just beginning to shift from darkness to the bruised purple of pre-dawn light when you woke up, your body singing with delicious soreness and you snuggled closer to his warmth. You kissed the soft skin of his shoulder, you hand caressing his muscled chest down to his abdomen. You smiled when he stirred, pressing soft kisses on his shoulder and neck, until you reach his jaw.
“Wake up, handsome...“ you mumbled. “It’s your turn today.”
He groaned softly, pulling you closer to him. “I hate leaving you.”
You chuckled. “So dramatic, my handsome man. I will be close behind,” you said, patting his abdomen. “Quick, quick. Before they wake up.”
He grunted, hauling you on top of him effortlessly. His eyes, though sleepy, watched you darkly as his hands moved to knead your breasts. You gasped softly, your hand clutching at his bicep as you peered down at him.
“I’m still sore from last night,” you said with a little drama, pouting at him.
He bit his lip, cooing at you. “I’ll help...” his hands moved down to your waist, ready to roll you over to your back but you were quick to sit up.
“No thanks. I know it’s not really help,” you smirked, grabbing your top. “Get up, warrior. You don’t want to get caught, do you?”
Neteyam groaned, a soft smile on his face before getting up, his hand clamping on your ankle to pull you toward him. You smiled when he bent his head a little to level with you. “Kiss,“ he mumbled and you gave him your lips.
You two kissed and kissed, but when you felt him nudging you to lie on your back, your eyes snapped open, pulling away from the kiss with narrowed eyes. “Neteyam...”
He smiled, his head falling dramatically. You rushed him, watching how the sun is almost peeking through the bruised sky, and Neteyam moved as quickly as he could, stealthily slipping back into the camp, walking with a light, quiet stride, a faint smile still on his lips as he neared his family’s tent.
“Out late?”
Neteyam froze, his ears pinning flat against his head. His father stepped out from the shadow, his arms crossed. From just inside the tent flap, Neytiri stepped forward, her sharp eyes narrowed at her eldest son in a way that made Neteyam’s posture instantly snap into military rigidity.
Jake sighed. “Neteyam... I've been meaning to talk to you, boy. I know you’re sort of courting Y/N. The whole clan knows it, everyone knows it, but you cannot just spend nights after nights with her to only Eywa knows where. You are both unmated. It's a small camp, people talk, and it’s not going to be a good look for her reputation.”
Neytiri stepped fully into the dim light, her tail twitching. “Just last night, when you had to sleep here, you looked like you were being sent to war instead of just holding Tuk because she’s asked to snuggle with you,” she pointed out. “You best ask for her hand from Ikeyni, son. Formally. You can’t dishonor her with this fooling around that you young people tend to engage in these days.“
Neteyam opened his mouth to speak and explain, but the look on his father’s face had him turning his head to follow Jake’s line of vision. He then saw you stepping into the clearing, completely unaware of the tribunal happening right in front of the Sully tent. You had planned to quickly slip into the yurt you shared with your mother to change your clothes and fix your hair, but you had taken the wrong turn.
You stopped dead in your tracks.
To say you looked thoroughly ravaged was an understatement. Your hair was a wild, tangled halo of loose braids, your lips were visibly swollen, and your chest was heaving from the hurried walk. You looked exactly like a woman who had spent the last hours being thoroughly fucked. Jake blinked, looking from you to his son.
Neytiri tilted her head, her gaze shifting slowly from your wild hair down to Neteyam’s deeply flushed face. She looked at her son pointedly, her eyes narrowing to dangerous slits. “Neteyam...”
Neteyam looked at you, then at his parents, his chest rising as he took a deep, steadying breath. The boyish embarrassment vanished, replaced by the fierce, unyielding pride of a man who knew exactly where he stood.
He walked over to you, completely ignoring his father’s stunned expression, and firmly wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him.
“I will personally apologize to the Olo’eykte, Mother. Because there is no need to ask for her hand,” Neteyam said, squeezing your waist a bit as he looked at his parents. “We are already mated.”
Your heart jumped into your throat, your cheeks burning.
Jake stared at his son, utterly speechless for three long seconds, before a slow, defeated smirk began to tug at the corner of his mouth. “Well... damn. Congratulations, I guess,” he said. “But you need to talk to Ikeyni about this. Immediately.”
“What is the matter at hand?” Your mother’s voice coming from your clan’s side of the camp.
You startled, pursing your lips. Neytiri watched you, the stern face for her son breaking into a soft smile as she shook her head in comical disbelief for your and Neteyam’s stubbornness.
“We have a ceremony to prepare, Ikeyni,“ Neytiri turned to your mother with a triumphant smile. “The two seemed to have finally met halfway.”
• summary: Neteyam realizing he’s in love with you after you get injured during training and he completely loses his composure for the first time in front of everyone.
The humidity of the Omatikaya rainforest clings to your skin. High above, the canopy filters the sunlight into jagged shards of gold and emerald, casting dancing shadows across the already full training grounds. Neteyam stands with his spine in a rigid line, his bow gripped in a hand that never trembles. He is the golden son, the blueprint of a warrior, the one who never miss a mark and never lets a slip of emotion breach his composure.
Beside him, you move with a fluidity that always make his chest tighten. You aren't as disciplined as he is, but you possess a raw, instinctive grace that mirrors the jungle itself. You catch him staring and flash a grin, your golden eyes shimmering with mischief.
"Still trying to figure out how I keep landing hits on you, Neteyam?"
Neteyam shifts his gaze forward, though the ghost of a smile tugs at his lips. "You rely on luck and chaos. It works until it doesn't."
"Chaos is just a strategy you haven't mastered yet," you counter, stepping closer. The scent of crushed ferns and rain follows you. "Admit it. You're bored of being perfect. You want to see what happens when you let go."
"I am not bored," he replies, with steady voice. "I am focused."
"Focused on what? The way my body moves when I'm about to strike?"
Neteyam finally looks at you, his expression neutral despite the drumming of his heart. "Your tail is a giveaway. You're telegraphing every move."
You laugh, a bright, melodic sound that echoes through the trees. "Then stop watching my tail and start seeing me."
The training session intensifies. Around you, other young warriors spar, the air filling with the rhythmic thud of wooden staffs and the sharp cries of exertion. Kiri watches from the sidelines, her head tilted, a somewhat intriguing expression painting her face.
"Again!" Jake barked.
You move. Neteyam blocks your strike, the wooden staffs clashing with a sharp crack. He steps back, circling you, his mind calculating your trajectory. He likes this—the dance of combat, the way your breaths synchronized in the heat. But more than the fight, he likes the way you challenge the walls he have built around himself.
"You're thinking too much," you whisper, your voice a low vibration. "Stop being a soldier for one second. Just be you."
"I am me," Neteyam grunts, sweeping your leg.
You tumble, rolling across the mossy earth and springing back up in one seamless motion. You are breathless, a stray lock of hair clinging to your damp forehead.
"Is that all the mighty warrior has?" you tease, though your chest heaves.
"I'm just warming up."
"Prove it."
You charge again, but this time, the environment betrays you. As you pivot for a high strike, your foot catches on a slick, protruding root, hidden beneath a layer of decaying leaves. The balance you usually maintain vanishes in a heartbeat. Your momentum carries you forward, not in a controlled strike, but in a desperate, uncontrolled fall.
Neteyam reaches out, his hand closing on air.
The sound that follows is sickening. A sharp, wet thud. You don't scream but a stifled gasp still escapes you. You simply collapse, your arm twisted at an unnatural angle as you slamed into a jagged outcrop of rock. A deep gash opened along your forearm, the crimson blood stark and jarring against your striking blue skin. You are losing a lot of blood.
For a second, the world went silent. The other warriors stopped. Jake froze.
Neteyam feels something inside him snap. The discipline, the composure, the carefully maintained mask of the perfect son, it all shattered like glass.
"Y/N!"
He doesn't walk; he launches himself toward you, his knees hitting the dirt with a force that bruise. He doesn't care. He doesn't see the crowd gathering. He doesn't see his father, Jake, approaching with a look of concern. All he sees is the blood and the way your eyes are clouded with shock.
"Don't move. Don't you dare move," Neteyam chokes out. His voice, usually a pillar of strength, was now a frayed wire.
You try to shift, a small moan escapes your lips. "I'm... I'm okay. It's just a—"
"Shut up! Just stay still!" he snaps, his voice cracking.
The crowd gasps. Neteyam has never raised his voice in anger, and he has certainly never lost his temper during a training exercise. He is trembling, so hard, that the shakes are evident on his entire frame.
He rips a strip of cloth from his own waist, his movements frantic, almost clumsy, and presses the fabric against your wound, his fingers slick with your blood.
"Neteyam, go get the healers and let them handle it," Jake says, reaching out to touch his son's shoulder.
Neteyam flinches away from his father's touch, his eyes wide and wild. "Get back! Just go get the healers! Now!"
Jake recoils, stunned. He has seen his son face down multiple predators and the terrors of war, but he has never seen him look this terrified. This isn't the fear of a soldier; it is the raw panic of a man watching his entire world bleed out on the forest floor.
"I've got you," Neteyam whispers, his forehead dropping to touch yours. He is sobbing now, the sounds jagged and guttural. "I've got you, Y/N. Please. Please be okay. Please."
You look up at him, your breath coming in shallow hitches. You have always seen Neteyam as the untouchable prince, the boy who carries the weight of the world without a grimace. Seeing him broken, seeing the tears streaming down his face and the desperation in his eyes, sends a different kind of shock through you.
"Neteyam," you whisper, your voice also trembling. "You're... you're crying."
"I can't lose you," he gasps, pressing the bandage harder against your arm. "I can't. I didn't tell you. I didn't tell you yet."
"Tell me what?"
He doesn't answer. He can't. He just clings to you, his large hand cradling the back of your head, shielding you from the eyes of the village. He is shaking so hard that you could feel it through your own skin.
Kiri arrives with the healers shortly after, gently pushing Neteyam aside to treat the wound. For the first time in his life, Neteyam doesn't argue. He doesn't lead. He simply stands by, his chest heaving, his hands stained red, watching every movement of the healers with an intensity that bordered on obsession. He loks like a man who had just survived a shipwreck, clinging to the only piece of driftwood left in the ocean.
Hours later, the sun has dipped below the horizon, leaving the forest bathing in a ghostly, bioluminescent glow. The plants pulse with soft purples and neon blues, mirroring the heartbeat of the world. You lie on a woven mat in the healing hut, your arm bound in clean linens and treated with pungent herbs.
The curtain flutters and Neteyam steps inside. He looks exhausted. The rigidity is gone, replaced by a heavy, lingering sadness. He doesn't say anything at first; he just sits beside you, his eyes scanning your face as if checking to ensure you haven't vanished.
"You scared everyone, you know," he says softly.
You smile weakly. "I think you scared them more. I've never seen you yell at your dad."
Neteyam looks away, a flush of embarrassment creeping up his neck. "I lost my head."
"You didn't just lose your head, Neteyam. You fell apart. Don't ask me how but it was actually kinda attractive."
He lets out a short, breathless laugh, finally meeting your eyes. The humor fades quickly, replaced by a solemnity that made the air between you feel thick.
"I thought you were gone," he whispers. "I know it was just a fall, just a cut, but for a second... the world went dark. I realized that if you weren't in it, there was no point in being perfect. There was no point in any of it."
You reach out with your good hand, your fingers brushing against his cheek. "Why didn't you tell me before?"
"Because I don't know how to do it," he admitts, leaning into your touch. "My life is a list of expectations. Be a leader. Be a warrior. Be the example. I don't know how to love you."
"Maybe just stop following the plan," you suggest.
Neteyam closes his eyes, a single tear escaping. "I don't want to be a blueprint for my dad anymore. I just want to be yours. After today I'm never leaving your side."
You pull him closer, guiding his head down to your shoulder. He collapses against you, the weight of his hidden emotions finally finding a place to land. He breathes in the scent of the healing herbs and your skin, his grip tightening possessively.
"You're an idiot," you murmur, kissing the top of his head.
"I know," he whispers back.
"A very dramatic idiot."
"Probably."
He pulls back just enough to look at you, his golden eyes searching yours. The vulnerability is still there, raw and exposed. He doesn't hide it this time. He doesn't mask the longing or the fear. He leans in, his movements slow and tentative, giving you every chance to pull away.
When your lips finally meet, it isn't the polished, perfect kiss of a prince. It is desperate and messy, tasting of longing. Neteyam groans into your mouth, a sound of pure relief, as if he was finally breathing after being underwater for years. His tongue sweeps against yours, claiming you with a hunger that spoke of months of suppressed desire.
You wrap your arm around his neck, pulling him flush against you. The friction of your bodies, the heat radiating between you, ignited a spark that have been simmering since you were children. Neteyam’s hand slids down your back, his fingers digging into your skin, grounding himself in the reality of your presence.
"I love you," he murmurs against your lips, his voice a rough, honest rasp. "I love you so much it terrifies me."
"Good," you whisper, pulling him back for another kiss. "It terrifies me too."
Neteyam smiles, a real, genuine smile that reaches his eyes. For the first time, he doesn't isn't putting on a performance to please anyone. The golden son has finally cracked, and in the wreckage of his perfection, he has found something far more valuable.
He stays by your side throughout the night, your fingers intertwined, watching the bioluminescent forest pulse in rhythm with your shared breath. The pressure of the clan, the weight of the war, and the expectations of his bloodline still exist, but they feel distant now, small and insignificant, compared to the girl in his arms.
As the first light of dawn filters through the canopy, Neteyam kisses your forehead, his expression one of absolute peace.
"Next time we spar," he whispers, "I'm not letting you get hurt anymore. I promise."
"Oh? And how do you plan to do that?"
"I don't know," he smiles, leaning in to kiss her again. "but i won't break my promise."
this is a reader x neteyam sully (tho reader has a name), I hope you enjoy it! this wasn't supposed to have two parts but it is so extended, nearly 16k+ words but please let me know if you want a part two... anyway, english is not my first language, sorry if anything is wrong or misunderstood.
the omatikaya children were difficult to separate from the forest itself.
they grew between roots thick as rivers, beneath curtains of moss and glowing spores, with dirt beneath their nails and leaves tangled into their braids. every child of the clan carried energy in different forms—some quieter than others, some wild enough to make the adults sigh whenever they vanished into the trees again.
ne’geza belonged to the second kind.
daughter of two respected hunters of the clan, she had been known since infancy by nearly everyone in high camp. her father, tsmukan, had fought beside jake sully during the battles against the sky people, a fearless scout known for crossing territory alone and returning with impossible information. her mother, sa’eyla, was one of the clan’s finest trackers, calm-eyed and sharp-tongued, the kind of woman even older warriors listened to carefully.
their daughter inherited both tempers.
“slow down!” ne’geza hissed, turning sharply enough that her braids whipped over her shoulder.
behind her came the loud snap of feet against wet roots.
“make me.”
a hand yanked her queue braid harshly from behind.
“ao!” she barked, spinning around immediately.
kxan—all elbows, fangs, and smug expressions—only grinned wider at her outrage. his ears tilted sideways mischievously while his tail flicked against the back of his calves in amusement.
they had known each other since before memory. before proper words. before hunting lessons and clan duties. their mothers joked eywa herself must have tied them together at birth purely to cause problems for everyone else.
he shoved her shoulder while walking past.
she shoved him harder.
he laughed.
“you walk too slow.”
“you speak too much.”
“you glare too much.”
“i should push you into the river.”
“you already tried last week.”
their arguing echoed beneath the trees while sunlight filtered through moving leaves overhead, broken into pieces of gold against their blue skin.
the river nearby sang softly against stone.
ne’geza’s irritation slowly faded the closer they got.
because the river was beautiful today.
clear water slipped over smooth black rocks covered in glowing green algae, the current carrying floating seeds and tiny lights downstream. fish darted beneath the surface in silver flashes. the stones beneath the water looked polished by eywa herself.
her ears lifted slightly.
without thinking, she crouched near the riverbank.
“…look at these,” she murmured.
kxan groaned dramatically behind her.
“they are rocks.”
“they shine.”
“still rocks.”
she ignored him completely, reaching toward the water. cool river current brushed over her fingers as she picked up a smooth stone streaked with pale blue minerals.
behind her, kxan crouched too close.
“ne’geza,” he whispered irritatingly.
she ignored him.
a tug suddenly pulled at the end of one of her braids.
her ears twitched sharply.
“kxaaan.”
another tug.
harder this time.
her tail lashed.
“stop.”
he snorted behind her.
then came a third pull.
that did it.
with a frustrated sound, ne’geza spun immediately and grabbed for the offending braids without looking.
her fingers closed tightly around several beaded strands.
not kxan’s.
different texture.
thicker.
longer.
her entire body froze.
because the boy she had grabbed was not grinning.
not laughing.
not kxan.
definitely not kxan.
a younger boy stared at her with wide golden eyes, utterly caught off guard, several braids trapped tightly in her fist.
silence.
pure, horrible silence.
even the river suddenly sounded too loud.
the boy blinked once.
his ears lowered slightly from surprise more than anger, tail going still behind him.
ne’geza’s own expression drained instantly.
she released him so fast it almost looked painful.
behind her, kxan made a strangled noise.
then leaned toward her shoulder carefully.
“…that,” he whispered with immense delight and horror all at once, “is toruk makto’s son.”
ne’geza nearly stopped breathing.
her ears flattened so quickly against her head they almost disappeared into her braids.
oh no.
oh eywa no.
the child in front of her rubbed the spot near his braids slowly, still looking more startled than upset. he was taller than her by a little despite being young, lean already in the way forest hunters often became. there was something unmistakable in his face too—the shape of his eyes resembling neytiri, while the calmer expression mirrored jake sully strangely.
neteyam.
she knew immediately.
everyone knew the olo’eyktan’s eldest son.
“i—” ne’geza swallowed hard. “i am sorry.”
neteyam blinked again.
her tail curled anxiously around her ankle.
“i thought— i thought you were him—”
she pointed furiously toward kxan without taking her eyes off neteyam.
kxan immediately lifted both hands.
“not my fault.”
“you pulled my hair first!”
“because your face looked funny looking at rocks!”
neteyam’s ears twitched upward slightly.
a laugh.
small.
barely there.
but there.
ne’geza stared at him in disbelief.
his expression softened almost immediately after, polite in a way many omatikaya children were not.
“it is alright,” he said quietly.
his voice surprised her.
gentle.
steady.
not offended.
if anything, he looked like he was trying not to smile at the situation.
“you grabbed hard, though,” he added after a moment, rubbing his scalp again.
kxan burst into loud laughter.
ne’geza whipped around.
“i will kill you.”
“you almost killed him first!”
“kxan!”
neteyam laughed properly this time.
soft, breathy, surprised out of him more than intentional.
and somehow that made ne’geza even more embarrassed.
her ears flattened impossibly lower while she glared holes through the ground itself.
neteyam noticed.
his tail swayed once behind him.
“…i have had worse happen during training,” he admitted carefully, trying—very obviously—to make her feel less ashamed.
which somehow only made her more ashamed.
because he was being nice.
and she had nearly scalped toruk makto’s son beside a river over shiny rocks.
and with that, years passed.
quietly.
suddenly.
one moment they were children wrestling in the dirt beside roots larger than their bodies, and the next they were taller, leaner, voices softer around certain people.
ne’geza never truly escaped that day by the river.
because from the moment she accidentally grabbed neteyam’s braids and watched him laugh instead of grow angry—
something inside her remained there.
small at first.
then unbearable.
she followed him everywhere after that.
not in secret.
never subtle.
everyone knew.
if neteyam trained with the older boys, ne’geza appeared nearby carrying extra arrows before he could ask. if he returned from scouting, she was somehow there already waiting with water or questions or excitement bright enough to rival the bioluminescence around them.
if he spoke, she listened like eywa herself had opened her mouth.
and neteyam…
neteyam never pushed her away.
that was the worst part.
or perhaps the best.
kxan thought it was pathetic either way.
“you are stupid,” he informed her one afternoon while helping clean fish beside the river.
ne’geza flicked water into his face without looking away from the beads she was threading carefully together.
“and you are an idiot.”
“he barely notices.”
her fingers paused slightly.
kxan saw it immediately.
his ears tilted back a little softer despite his mocking tone.
“ne’geza,” he muttered. “he is olo’eyktan’s son. he is busy all the time.”
“i know.”
“then stop staring at him like a dying hexapede every time he smiles at you.”
she shoved him hard enough that he nearly slipped into the water.
he barked laughter instantly.
“see? that face! exactly that face!”
but the truth was… neteyam did notice.
he noticed when she waited for him after lessons.
noticed when she began learning healing techniques from older women despite originally preferring hunting paths like her parents.
noticed how hard she tried around his family.
especially around neytiri.
ne’geza admired her almost painfully.
she memorized the older woman’s movements during tsaheylu ceremonies, the precision of her prayers, the way she prepared herbs, the softness in her voice whenever speaking of eywa.
she wanted to become worthy of standing beside neteyam one day.
not merely as a hunter.
but as something sacred.
something needed.
sometimes, late at night, she imagined herself beside him in the future.
neteyam as olo’eyktan, strong and calm beneath ceremonial paint while she stood beside him as tsahìk, guiding prayers beneath the glowing tree of voices.
young dreams.
innocent ones.
yet they rooted deeply inside her chest.
neteyam never laughed at her.
that mattered more than anything.
once, after she spent nearly an hour helping kiri prepare medicines despite slicing her own finger twice from distraction, neteyam quietly handed her a clean cloth.
“you do not have to force yourself so hard.”
ne’geza looked up immediately.
“i am not forcing.”
he tilted his head slightly.
she was terrible at lying.
“…maybe a little.”
his mouth curved faintly.
“mother already likes you.”
her ears nearly shot upward.
“she does?”
“yes.”
“really?”
“really.”
“did she say that?”
“not in those words.”
“neteyam.”
he laughed softly when she shoved his shoulder.
small moments like that ruined her completely.
because neteyam was gentle by nature.
steady.
responsible.
he carried expectations heavier than most people understood, yet somehow still made space for others carefully, intentionally. especially his siblings.
especially her.
lo’ak, unfortunately, found the entire thing hilarious.
“there she is,” he would announce dramatically whenever ne’geza approached. “brother, your shadow has returned.”
“lo’ak,” neteyam sighed every single time.
“what? i speak truth.”
“i am right here,” ne’geza hissed.
“yes. exactly my point.”
kiri only smirked quietly nearby while tuk asked loudly if they were going to mate one day.
ne’geza nearly died.
neteyam choked on air.
lo’ak screamed laughing.
but the humans took longer.
much longer.
her father’s distrust had been carved into her carefully since childhood.
sky people destroy.
sky people lie.
sky people take.
even after peace settled more comfortably between clans and the scientists living among them, ne’geza kept her distance instinctively.
the laboratory smelled wrong.
too clean.
too artificial.
the lights buzzed strangely overhead.
every instinct in her body told her to leave.
yet the sully children moved through the space easily now. casually. kiri especially adored learning there, and neteyam often helped transport supplies or messages between camps.
eventually...
after enough invitations,
ne’geza began following too.
cautiously.
always cautious.
norm was patient with her.
so was max.
they never touched without permission. never raised voices. never mocked her discomfort when she stood stiffly near equipment with her ears pinned warily backward.
slowly, painfully slowly, she learned.
human words.
human expressions.
human games.
she still distrusted them.
perhaps always would.
but she trusted the sullys.
and that trust stretched further than fear.
“okay,” norm announced excitedly one evening. “this one is interesting.”
the younger sullys immediately crowded around him.
lo’ak nearly knocked over a chair trying to lean closer.
“what now?”
“a visual reconstruction program,” norm explained proudly. “hypothetical human appearances based on skeletal structures, facial proportions, genetic assumptions—”
“boring already,” lo’ak groaned.
“it means,” kiri interrupted patiently, “seeing what we might look like as humans.”
that got attention immediately.
lo’ak’s ears lifted.
tuk gasped.
even neteyam looked curious.
ne’geza looked horrified.
“why would i want to see that?”
“because it is funny,” lo’ak answered instantly.
“because it is fascinating,” kiri corrected.
norm grinned toward ne’geza.
“come on. just once.”
she almost refused.
almost.
but then neteyam glanced toward her.
not pushing.
never pushing.
just quietly hopeful.
and eywa help her, ne’geza had never denied him anything in her life.
“…fine.”
lo’ak looked triumphant.
“she only agreed because neteyam looked at her.”
“i will throw you into the ocean.”
“see? love.”
“lo’ak.”
neteyam’s warning tone barely hid amusement.
the scans took time.
norm moved around excitedly explaining things half nobody understood while glowing screens reflected across the room.
eventually, a projection flickered alive first.
neteyam.
the room quieted slightly.
human neteyam stared back at them from blue holographic light—darker skin, thick dark curls pulled loosely back, broad shoulders already forming despite youth. his eyes remained unmistakably his somehow. calm. warm. observant.
softer without the sharper na’vi angles.
yet still neteyam.
ne’geza forgot humans were supposed to unsettle her.
because something in her chest softened painfully instead.
oh.
´oh, he is beautiful.´
she did not say it aloud.
could not.
but her stare lingered too long.
curious.
captivated.
neteyam noticed immediately.
of course he did.
his ears twitched slightly while glancing toward her.
“strange,” he murmured.
“you look old,” lo’ak declared.
“you look exactly the same amount of ugly,” kiri replied.
norm laughed somewhere behind them.
“honestly, based on our observations? omatikaya features would probably translate across a spectrum between darker-skinned human ethnicities. african, indigenous, mixed variations maybe. but it is all theoretical.”
ne’geza barely heard him.
she was still staring at neteyam’s projection quietly.
different.
yet not.
then norm brightened suddenly.
“alright. next.”
before ne’geza could prepare herself—
her projection appeared.
neteyam saw it first.
his expression changed immediately.
not dramatically.
that was never neteyam.
but his posture stilled.
eyes widening just slightly.
ne’geza turned nervously.
and froze.
a human girl stared back at her.
brown skin.
dark eyes.
long braided curls falling over human shoulders.
still recognizable somehow. still carrying her expressions, her mouth, her gaze.
just… different.
human.
the room went strangely quiet for half a second.
then lo’ak snorted.
“you still look angry.”
everyone laughed.
even ne’geza a little.
but when she glanced back toward neteyam—
he was still looking at the projection.
very softly.
very quietly.
like he was trying to understand something.
and for once in her life,
ne’geza became shy first.
when they were younger, ne’geza’s devotion had not been subtle at all.
children rarely knew how to hide the things they loved.
and neteyam—
neteyam had always been loved carefully by many people within the clan.
respected.
admired.
protected.
but not like this.
not with the blind little fierceness ne’geza carried in her tiny body.
because while older omatikaya had slowly learned to accept the sully children fully, not every child inherited that maturity immediately.
and children repeated what they heard.
sometimes without understanding cruelty.
sometimes understanding it perfectly.
it happened most often when adults were far enough not to hear.
“half-blood.”
“demon blood.”
“sky person child.”
the words were usually muttered more toward lo’ak, sometimes kiri despite her not even being jake’s daughter by blood, but there had been moments—quieter, uglier moments—directed toward neteyam too.
because his hands were slightly different.
because his eyes looked more human sometimes.
because some children were cruel simply because they could be.
neteyam never reacted strongly.
even young, he carried himself with that same restrained patience. jaw tight. ears lowered slightly. pretending the words slid off him harmlessly.
they never did.
ne’geza noticed every single time.
once, when they could not have been older than eight or nine cycles, she heard older boys laughing near the training grounds while neteyam collected arrows quietly by himself.
“maybe he cannot shoot properly because one eye belongs to a sky person.”
the others snickered.
neteyam’s shoulders stiffened only slightly.
only slightly.
but ne’geza saw it.
and eywa help anyone after that.
she launched herself at the speaker before thinking at all.
a tiny blue blur of rage.
the boy yelped as she slammed into him hard enough to send both tumbling into the dirt.
screaming followed immediately.
hers.
mostly hers.
“say it again!” she snarled, ears flattened violently against her head. “say it again!”
the older boy tried shoving her off in complete disbelief.
“she is crazy!”
“i will bite you!”
“ne’geza!” kxan shouted somewhere nearby, already laughing hysterically while absolutely not helping.
the other children backed away immediately.
because ne’geza genuinely looked willing to kill somebody over this.
tiny fangs bared.
tail lashing furiously.
hands tangled into the other child’s braid while she hissed insults so aggressively even nearby adults turned toward the noise.
neteyam grabbed her eventually.
barely.
“ne’geza,” he said breathlessly, trying to pull her backward while she still attempted clawing at the other boy. “stop.”
“he insulted you!”
“you are making it worse!”
“i do not care!”
she meant it too.
completely.
utterly.
her chest heaved violently while she glared over neteyam’s arm like some furious little forest creature.
the other child scrambled away immediately once freed.
neteyam looked exhausted already.
“you cannot attack everyone.”
“watch me.”
his ears twitched upward despite himself.
because even angry, even terrifying,
she had done it for him.
again.
later, after both received scolding from adults, ne’geza sat beside him high in the trees with swollen pride still burning hot in her chest.
“you should have let me finish.”
neteyam sighed dramatically beside her.
“you nearly broke his nose.”
“good.”
“ne’geza.”
“he was wrong.”
quiet settled between them.
wind moved gently through the leaves overhead.
finally, neteyam spoke quieter.
“…thank you.”
that was all.
simple.
honest.
but ne’geza’s entire expression softened immediately.
because that was enough.
always enough.
from then onward, it became almost expected.
if someone mocked kiri for being strange, ne’geza snapped back immediately.
if lo’ak got into fights, she joined without hesitation.
but when it came to neteyam—
it was different.
more personal.
more instinctive.
she watched him constantly when they were children.
made sure nobody excluded him during games.
sat beside him during meals without fail.
brought him things she thought he might like—polished stones, colorful feathers, carved wooden charms she made badly herself.
once she even cried because another little girl announced loudly she wanted to become neteyam’s future mate.
kxan laughed so hard he fell from a branch.
neteyam, horrified and confused, spent nearly twenty minutes trying to understand why ne’geza suddenly refused to speak to him.
it only became less obvious as they aged because she learned restraint slowly.
learned embarrassment.
learned longing.
but when they were small—
everyone knew.
especially neteyam.
by fourteen and fifteen cycles, things had changed quietly between them all.
not disappeared.
never that.
just… deepened.
their limbs had lengthened, voices softened into maturity, movements sharpened from childhood clumsiness into something more graceful. even their silences carried meaning now.
especially between ne’geza and neteyam.
because as children, devotion had been loud.
at fifteen,
it became sacred.
“you will return before eclipse meal,” sa’eyla called from behind her.
ne’geza barely slowed while tying her satchel over one shoulder.
“yes, mother.”
“that was not agreement. that was escape.”
her father snorted from nearby where he repaired arrow fletching.
“if she vanishes with the sully boy again, she will forget food exists entirely.”
“father.”
yet her ears warmed faintly.
both parents noticed immediately.
sa’eyla’s mouth twitched upward.
“take this.”
a small woven pouch was tossed toward her.
ne’geza caught it carefully, blinking down at the contents inside—dried fruits sweetened lightly with nectar.
her favorites.
“you made these?”
“you forget to eat when distracted,” her mother answered simply.
which meant yes.
ne’geza softened instantly.
she crossed back briefly, pressing her forehead gently against sa’eyla’s shoulder before doing the same to her father.
“i will return before eclipse.”
“alive preferably,” tsmukan added dryly.
“no promises.”
training beneath the tsahìk had become the center of ne’geza’s life by then.
not because anyone forced her.
because she wanted it with all her heart.
the older she grew, the more seriously she devoted herself to the path. she learned chants until her throat ached, memorized herbs by scent alone, practiced spiritual connections beneath glowing trees until dawn touched the forest canopy gold.
mo’at herself had begun noticing her progress.
and neytiri…
neytiri had begun treating her differently too.
less like one of the children endlessly following her son around.
more carefully.
more knowingly.
one evening, after a long hunt and longer training beneath humid forest heat, ne’geza sat stiffly inside the sully family marui while tuk braided flowers nearby.
jake had apparently brought some kind of human skin cream months ago from the scientists.
neytiri remained suspicious of it.
but curious enough to keep it.
“hold still,” neytiri muttered.
ne’geza obeyed immediately.
though cautiously.
very cautiously.
“what is it?”
“for dry skin.”
“…from humans?”
“yes.”
that answer alone made ne’geza’s ears flatten uncertainly.
lo’ak burst into laughter from somewhere behind them.
“look at her face!”
“quiet,” neytiri warned absentmindedly.
cool cream brushed against ne’geza’s cheek carefully.
she flinched.
all the sully children laughed this time.
even kiri.
“it feels strange,” ne’geza complained quietly, eyes squeezing shut while neytiri spread more across her forehead. "why is it moist."
“because your skin is damaged from sun exposure,” neytiri replied.
another dab against her nose.
ne’geza’s ears lowered further in surrender.
tuk giggled loudly.
“you look like a grumpy baby.”
“i will throw you.”
“mother!”
neytiri ignored all of them calmly while smoothing the cream beneath ne’geza’s eyes with surprising gentleness.
neteyam entered midway through it all.
and stopped immediately.
his gaze landed on ne’geza sitting there utterly defeated beneath his mother’s hands, eyes closed obediently while white cream dotted her face.
his mouth twitched upward instantly.
ne’geza opened one eye.
saw him smiling.
and nearly died.
“do not look at me.”
“you look fine.”
“you are lying.”
“a little.”
his smile widened just enough to ruin her entire evening.
and kxan remained unbearable, in the other hand.
that never changed.
he still stole things from her satchel.
still yanked lightly on the end of her braid while passing.
still shoved her shoulder during arguments purely to irritate her.
except now—
they were older.
and older meant awareness settled strangely into the spaces between people.
sometimes ne’geza would catch him staring at her too long before he looked away first.
sometimes his teasing became quieter whenever neteyam stood nearby.
sometimes his laughter faded into something unreadable while watching her gaze follow the olo’eyktan’s eldest son without realizing it herself.
he never said anything.
not truly.
only once.
they sat together high above the forest after patrol, shoulders brushing against bark while bioluminescent insects drifted below them.
ne’geza spoke endlessly about tsahìk teachings while restringing beads absentmindedly.
kxan watched her quietly for a long moment.
“…you really love him.”
she blinked.
as if the statement confused her.
“of course i do.”
so simple.
so immediate.
it hurt him a little.
he laughed afterward anyway.
“idiot.”
she kicked his leg.
he deserved worse.
but neteyam and ne’geza never confessed anything.
there had been no grand moment.
no promises whispered beneath eywa.
yet everyone around them could feel it growing heavier with age.
neteyam sought her instinctively now.
during clan meetings, his eyes searched crowds for her first.
during hunts, he checked whether she returned safely before resting himself.
when she trained late beneath the tsahìk, he waited nearby under the excuse of escorting her home through the forest at night.
their hands brushed more often now.
lingering accidentally.
or perhaps not accidentally at all.
sometimes she caught him staring too.
softly.
thoughtfully.
like he was trying to solve something impossible.
and neteyam—
neteyam never denied her place beside him.
not once.
during one ceremonial gathering, an older woman teased lightly about future mates while glancing knowingly between them.
ne’geza stopped breathing.
neteyam only smiled faintly and lowered his gaze without correcting her.
that alone kept ne’geza awake for half the night afterward.
because in omatikaya culture—
not denying something meant everything.
there had even begun quiet preparation discussions regarding the future.
nothing official.
nothing announced.
but everyone understood someday neteyam would become olo’eyktan after jake sully.
and somewhere within those same whispers, ne’geza’s name appeared too now.
the promising tsahìk apprentice.
the devoted daughter of honored warriors.
the girl forever at neteyam’s side.
it felt inevitable.
like roots intertwining beneath soil long before anyone noticed the trees above had already grown together.
and perhaps that was why the coming disaster hurt so badly.
because right before everything shattered,
they had finally begun looking like a future.
but an attack came with fire again.
just like it always did.
the sky split apart beneath roaring engines, smoke poisoning the clean air of the forest while screams echoed between trees that had stood for generations. the people of the sky returned louder, crueler, hungrier than before.
and with them came fear.
real fear.
not the distant stories ne’geza remembered from childhood.
something alive now.
something breathing down the neck of the clan.
the omatikaya changed after that.
war returned to every conversation.
hunters sharpened blades later into the night. scouts vanished for days. children were called closer to home. even laughter around communal meals became quieter.
and neteyam—
neteyam carried stress differently than others.
he became calmer.
which somehow made it worse.
because ne’geza knew him well enough now to notice the exhaustion beneath it.
she found him one evening near the edge of high camp, standing alone high above the forest while distant smoke stained the horizon dark.
his posture remained straight.
responsible.
always responsible.
but his ears lowered slightly when she approached.
“you should rest,” she murmured softly.
“so should you.”
she moved beside him anyway.
close enough that their shoulders nearly touched.
not quite.
never quite.
“mother says the clan is frightened,” she admitted quietly.
“they are.”
“are you?”
neteyam looked outward for a long moment before answering.
“…yes.”
honest.
always honest with her.
that frightened her more than the flames ever could.
the decision shattered everything afterward.
she learned of it accidentally.
voices inside the sully family marui carried louder than intended one night, tense enough that even the forest itself felt uneasy around them.
leave.
the word echoed painfully inside her skull.
leave the clan.
leave the forest.
leave to protect everyone else.
ne’geza stood frozen outside the woven entrance listening to overlapping voices—lo’ak protesting loudly, tuk crying softly somewhere, kiri speaking too quietly to understand.
then jake sully’s voice.
firm.
final.
“we cannot risk the people.”
silence afterward.
horrible silence.
ne’geza stumbled backward before anyone noticed her there.
her breathing turned uneven immediately.
no.
they could not leave.
neteyam could not leave.
her entire body shook by the time she reached home.
sa’eyla rose instantly at the sight of her daughter’s expression.
“what happened?”
“they are leaving.”
her voice cracked apart embarrassingly.
“the sullys are leaving.”
both parents went still.
tsmukan’s face darkened immediately with understanding.
of course he already suspected.
warriors always knew before others did.
“ne’geza—”
“I am going with them.”
the words came too quickly.
desperate.
immediate.
her mother stared at her.
“no.”
“please.”
“absolutely not.”
“mother—”
“you are omatikaya.”
“so are they!”
“they are leaving because they are targets!”
“then they should not go alone!”
her voice broke completely this time.
ears flattening hard against her braids while tears burned painfully behind her eyes.
tsmukan stood slowly.
“enough.”
the single word cut through her immediately.
rare.
dangerous.
her father almost never raised his voice.
“you will calm yourself.”
“father—”
“you think love makes you foolish enough to abandon your clan during war?”
silence.
horrible silence.
because nobody had ever said it aloud before.
love.
ne’geza froze completely.
her father’s expression softened only slightly afterward.
not unkind.
just firm.
“you are fifteen,” he said more quietly. “and hurting. but your place is here.”
tears slipped down her face instantly.
humiliating.
uncontrollable.
“what if they die?”
sa’eyla crossed the space immediately then, taking her daughter’s face carefully between both hands.
their foreheads pressed together gently.
“do not borrow grief before eywa places it in your hands.”
ne’geza cried harder anyway.
the ceremony appointing the new olo’eyktan felt unbearable.
formal.
sacred.
wrong.
tarsem stepped forward beneath solemn chants while leadership passed away from jake before the clan. nobody protested openly.
everyone understood why it had to happen.
that did not make it hurt less.
the entire time, ne’geza could barely breathe properly.
because neteyam stood there among his family already looking halfway gone.
she memorized everything desperately.
the paint across his skin.
the beads in his braids.
the quiet exhaustion hidden behind composure.
she hated herself for memorizing him like someone already mourning.
afterward, chaos moved quickly.
preparations.
goodbyes.
supplies being gathered.
people pretending not to stare.
ne’geza spent most of it numb until she finally found herself standing before the sully family while eclipse painted the forest dark blue.
tuk hugged her first.
crying immediately.
kiri held her tightly afterward too, quieter but no less emotional.
even lo’ak looked miserable beneath forced sarcasm.
“try not to become more annoying while we are gone.”
she shoved him weakly.
then came neteyam.
and suddenly everything inside her chest became unbearable again.
he stood close.
too close.
but not close enough.
his eyes searched her face carefully.
“…you heard.”
she nodded once.
could not trust her voice.
neteyam looked like he wanted to say more.
instead, he reached forward slowly and adjusted one of the beads hanging loose near her braid—fingers brushing her skin so lightly it nearly undid her completely.
“we will come back,” he promised softly.
ne’geza swallowed painfully.
“you do not know that.”
“i do.”
“neteyam—”
her voice cracked again.
his ears lowered immediately at the sound.
behind them, neytiri watched silently with an expression too knowing for comfort.
finally, jake stepped forward too.
“you can visit,” he said gently. “when things settle. if your parents allow it.”
kiri nodded quickly.
“or send messages.”
“send food,” lo’ak added instantly.
“send literally anything except your attitude,” kiri shot back.
the tiny argument softened the tension just enough for ne’geza to breathe again.
slightly.
only slightly.
because the idea of still reaching them somehow—
still existing within their lives—
felt like someone placing trembling hands around the pieces of her heart before they shattered entirely.
she nodded shakily.
“i will.”
then finally—
finally—
she looked directly at neteyam again.
there were a thousand things trapped inside her throat—
none of them escaped.
because neteyam already looked at her like he understood anyway.
A/N: Holy shit, please don't throw stones at me for this taking three months; I truly don't know what got to me. Furthermore, I told you they would reunite, but I didn't say it wouldn't be heartbreaking! This may be my last Avatar fic for a bit but not forever; I still love you all.
Translation:
Tsmuken: brother
Yawne: love or “my” love
Tsaheylu: sacred bond
Warnings: War, grief, violence, mentions of blood, death, and other things. Multi pov. Prisoner of war, very sad, So'lek.
Summary: Captured by Mercer and hidden deep within an RDA mountain base, you’re forced to survive steel walls, isolation, and the terrifying possibility that So’lek may never find you. But grief turns violent when So’lek learns you’re still alive, tearing through mountains, fire, and an entire compound to bring you home.
Prt 1
The light had long since vanished by the time you were left to rot on the floor.
Cold, merciless concrete pressed against your aching back, seeping into bone and muscle alike. You weren’t sure how long it had been. Hours. Days. Time had lost all meaning here. The only thing you could still cling to was the image of So’lek’s face. The way he had dropped to his knees before you, fury and terror warring in his eyes, held back only by Nor’s grip anchoring him in place.
The memory tore at you every time it surfaced. And it surfaced often.
In the silence, the long stretches of nothing, it replayed behind your eyes, unbidden. You were alone now. Trapped inside a glass box, hidden away from anyone who might care enough to come looking. The walls hummed softly around you, alive with machinery you did not understand but had learned to fear.
You hadn’t seen a living soul in a long while.
Luckily they redressed your wound, or else you may not have made it much longer. The last time they came, it had taken reinforcements to hold you down. Cold hands. Restraints biting into your wrists. Needles. Vials. They took your blood and called it research. They tested and prodded as if you were nothing more than another specimen—no different from the days before. No different from the cage you thought you had escaped.
The memory returned in violent waves when they burst into your cell.
Mercer.
Your sister.
You had barely escaped him with your life the first time. When they left you alone again, the door sealing shut with a mechanical hiss, you cried until your chest ached. You cried for your people. For So’lek. For Nor and Ri’nela. And for your sister most of all.
You had thought you had fled this. Thought you could prove her life—your life—was worth something more than what they had taken from it.
You had told him to run. To leave you behind, knowing it was not something he would ever do lightly. Even now, you could still feel his hand at the hollow of your neck. Still feel the feather-soft kiss he had pressed to your temple before he flew.
You wondered where he was now. What he was doing. What he was feeling.
How had it come to this?
–
“So’lek.”
Draw. Drag.
“So’lek?”
Draw. Drag.
The blade hissed against the stone, sparks biting the air, the vibration traveling up his arm and into his shoulder.
“So’lek—”
The knife was at Nor’s throat before the sound finished leaving his mouth.
Teeth bared, vision narrowed, So’lek staggered back as recognition struck too late. Nor stood rigid, hands lifted in instinctive defense, fear flushing his skin. The sight cut through So’lek like iced water, shock and regret crashing down his spine.
All Nor had done was touch his shoulder.
That was all it took.
“Nor”
“It’s alright,” Nor said quickly. “I’m sorry.”
Sorry.
The word curdled in his chest. He had heard it too many times, spoken softly and carefully, like the beginning of an ending. You weren’t dead.
He hadn’t lost you.
Two weeks. That was how long you had been gone. Taken by Mercer and his men, swallowed by the night. For what purpose he did not know. What they could want from you now gnawed at him, hollowing him from the inside out.
Nor’s hand on his shoulder dragged him back to the cliffside, uttering reassuring words of confidence birthed from ignorance. Then, being held in place while you were torn away, the prayers to Eywa vanishing as the doors closed before him. To the moment, he had been forced to live instead of die for you.
He would have given his life. Should have.
“Leave.” He dropped the knife onto the workbench, the clang swallowed by the ever-present hum of the resistance base. Machines whirred. Voices passed. The world continued, indifferent and intact.
“So’lek,” Nor said quietly, “I came to pull you from this cave. Not watch you die in it, tsmukan.”
Everything felt heavy. His limbs. His chest. His eyes burned constantly now, sleep refusing him, food turning to ash in his mouth. There was only the ache where you belonged—an absence that dragged him lower when anger loosened its grip.
And anger loosened rarely.
The first week, he flew until his muscles screamed, scouring the skies with Iley until exhaustion forced him down. No sign of you. Only targets for his rage. Places to carve it out of himself. No one had heard word of Mercer or his men, but survival clung to him as it always did. His drill base, however, lay in ruin. The rubble and pollution were bleeding into the land, a wound Pandora would remember long after the smoke cleared.
Now in this second week, he hadn’t worn his vest in days.
Not since the skies had yielded nothing but silence. Not since the endless flight with Iley had carved the wind into his bones and left him hollowed out by hope. The straps lay discarded now, forgotten where he had torn them free without thought.
Nor had noticed.
Anyone would have.
The faint mark still lingered on So’lek’s chest—a ghost of pigment against blue skin, barely visible now unless the light caught it just right. A handprint, once bold and deliberate, softened by time and sweat and grief. So’lek had worn the vest constantly after you painted him, refusing to let it rub away, guarding it as if it were something sacred.
As if it were you.
Now it was exposed, fading slowly with each breath he took, each moment you remained gone. Nor’s gaze flickered there only once before snapping back to So’lek’s face, understanding settling heavy and unavoidable in his eyes.
Now, standing still, he let Nor see him. The darkness beneath his eyes. The fracture that was running straight through his center.
“No,” So’lek said.
“Tsmukan—”
“I said no.”
Nor exhaled sharply. “You will kill yourself with grief.”
Nor knew now. What you were to him. What the two of you had chosen. What had been stolen before it could be completed. Something that had been ripped away too early, splintering So’lek from the inside out.
So’lek’s jaw tightened. “You do not get to decide what I do with grief,” he seethed.
Nor lifted his chin, his face hard as the stone around them. “Fine. Do as you see fit.”
When he was gone, So’lek picked the knife up again, stuck the sharpening stone between his legs, and went back to scraping a blade that no longer needed attention.
—
The walls hummed endlessly around you.
At first the sound had driven you toward madness, the constant vibration threading through the glass and metal like a living thing buried beneath the facility. It swallowed silence whole, filling every waking moment until there was no room left for thought. For grief. For sleep. Yet somewhere between the hours bleeding into days, you had stopped fighting it. Stopped clawing against the cage until your nails split and your muscles gave out beneath restraint. Pandora still breathed beyond these walls. You could feel her if you sat still long enough.
Eywa was difficult to hear here.
The metal disrupted everything. Thick walls, reinforced glass, machinery buried deep beneath the earth. The Sky People had built this place like a wound carved directly into the land, something meant to sever connection and isolate anything trapped within it. Still, beneath the humming and the vibration of engines, beneath the artificial lights that never truly dimmed, she remained.
Softly.
Faint as distant rainfall.
You sat cross-legged near the center of the cell now, eyes closed, breathing deep and steady as your fingertips rested against your knees. The ache in your body had dulled over time, settling into something familiar. Even your wound no longer burned the way it once had. They kept it clean now. Kept you alive. You had learned enough from the scientists moving around you to understand that meant you were useful.
Useful things were preserved.
Your thoughts no longer circled endlessly around violence and bloodshed. The memories still existed, sharp and ugly, but they no longer consumed every waking moment. Instead, you found yourself clinging to gentler things. So’lek’s hands in yours. Ri’nela’s laugh carried through the resistance caves. Nor teasing you beside the fire while the smell of roasted fish drifted through camp. You remembered the way Pandora glowed beneath eclipse light and the way So’lek’s breathing changed when he finally allowed himself peace beside you.
Those memories became a sanctuary.
You hold them close now, turning them over carefully within yourself like precious stones polished smooth with time. Eywa lived in memory just as much as the roots beneath the earth. You understood that now.
The sound of heavy boots eventually disturbed the stillness.
You did not open your eyes.
The footsteps slowed outside the glass, followed by the familiar hiss of machinery cycling nearby. Another visitor. Another scientist, perhaps, coming to prod and extract and study what remained of you. Your breathing never faltered.
“Well,” Mercer’s voice drawled from beyond the barrier, “that’s disappointing'."
Your eyes remained shut.
“I expected screaming. Maybe throwing yourself against the glass again.” His boots echoed softly as he paced before the cell. “This is just sad.”
Still you did not respond.
Mercer hated silence. You realized that quickly. Men like him preferred reactions. Fear. Anger. Anything that proved they still had their hands wrapped around your throat. Your calm unsettled him in ways rage never could.
The glass reflected him faintly even through your lowered lashes. Broad shoulders. Human arrogance dressed up as authority. Alive.
A mistake.
“You know,” he continued after a moment, “I was beginning to think maybe you finally broke.”
The hum of the room filled the pause between his words.
You focused instead on the pulse beneath the floor. On the distant feeling of roots buried somewhere far below steel foundations. Eywa was here. Faint, but present, and the thought steadied you.
Mercer eventually stopped pacing. “No questions?” he asked. “No begging? No heroic threats today?”
Your jaw tightened slightly.
That alone seemed enough encouragement for him to continue.
“That warrior of yours,” he said casually, “the scarred one. He’s making a real mess out there.”
The world stopped.
Your eyes opened slowly.
Mercer smiled the moment he saw the shift in you. There it was. The reaction he’d been digging for.
“So’lek,” you breathed before you could stop yourself. “He’s alive?”
Mercer leaned one shoulder against the glass. “Very much alive. Angry too. Hell, my men are practically scared to leave camp now.”
Hope struck so violently through your chest that it almost hurt. For weeks you had buried every thought of him beneath grief, terrified that Mercer had taken him from you too. Yet the moment his name crossed Mercer’s lips, you felt him again as clearly as if his hand still rested against your skin.
Alive.
So’lek was alive.
A slow breath filled your lungs as something inside you settled into place. Not relief.
Certainty.
Your spine straightened as you rose carefully to your feet, stepping closer toward the glass for the first time since he’d arrived. Mercer’s amusement faltered slightly beneath the weight of your stare. You could almost see the exact moment he realized he’d made a mistake speaking So’lek’s name aloud.
“He will come for me,” you said quietly.
Mercer scoffed. “You really think one Na’vi is enough to—”
“He will come for me,” you repeated, firmer now, your voice carrying through the room with chilling certainty. “And he will not stop until every one of you is dead.”
The humor faded from Mercer’s face completely.
You stepped closer still, enough that your reflection merged faintly with his against the glass.
“Or worse.”
—
The resistance base had begun to feel like a grave.
Not loud enough to be alive. Not quiet enough to rest.
The walls breathed with machinery and distant conversation, warriors moving through the caverns with purpose while So’lek remained trapped within them, pacing the same worn paths until the stone itself felt carved by grief. Every corner of the caves held memories now. You are laughing beside the fires. Your voice echoes through the tunnels. Your hand brushes his arm in passing. He could not sit without seeing you there. Could not close his eyes without imagining the sound of your breathing beside him.
It was suffocating him.
So’lek stood abruptly from the cot he had not slept in, the movement violent enough to rattle the weapons laid beside it. His chest felt too tight again, grief wrapping around his ribs like constricting vines, squeezing until breathing itself became labor. He needed air. Needed the sky. Needed movement before the darkness inside him swallowed what little remained.
His bow was slung across his back first, movements sharp and practiced despite exhaustion weighing heavily through his limbs. The rifle followed, secured against his side, before he gathered the remaining blades from the workbench. The resistance caves were dim this late into the cycle, lit mostly by low fires and glowing fungi along the walls, but even in the muted light he could see the vest where it hung untouched nearby.
His hands stilled.
For several long breaths he only stared at it.
The material still carried the shape of him from constant wear, worn soft along the seams from battle and flight and sleepless nights spent searching the skies for some trace of you. Slowly, his fingers closed around it, gripping tighter than necessary as memory struck him again with merciless precision. Your laughter while painting his chest. The warmth of your palm pressing against his skin. The teasing look in your eyes when he asked you to paint him.
As if preserving it could preserve you.
His jaw tightened as he dragged the vest over his shoulders. The faded handprint vanished beneath the leather once more, hidden close against his chest where no one else could see it.
Alive.
The word had rooted itself deep inside him these past days despite the silence. He did not know how. Did not know if it was instinct, hope, or desperation refusing to rot. But somewhere beneath all the grief and fury clawing through him, certainty remained.
You were alive.
And if you were alive, then he had wasted enough time suffocating in these caves.
So’lek turned sharply toward the exit tunnels, feet striking hard against stone as he moved through the resistance base with purpose for the first time in days. Several warriors glanced toward him as he passed, sensing something unsettled in the force of his stride. He ignored them all until a familiar voice cut through the cavern behind him.
“So’lek!”
He did not stop immediately. Only slowed enough for footsteps to catch him.
A resistance scout rounded the corner, breathless, rifle still slung over one shoulder. “A report came in from the northern mountains,” the young warrior explained quickly. “There is another RDA base hidden within the cliffs. Concealed beneath the fog.”
So’lek’s pulse slammed against his ribs.
“Where?”
“Due north past the black rivers, but the skies are too thick to fly safely right now. Ri’nela says we wait until—”
“I am leaving now.”
The words came sharp enough to cut.
The scout visibly faltered. “We need reinforcements assembled first. The fog—”
“I said I am leaving.”
The cave shifted with tension. Nearby warriors paused their movements as So’lek stepped forward again, shoulders squared with dangerous intent. The thought of waiting another hour, another moment while you remained trapped somewhere beneath human hands, made his vision darken.
“They are preparing a larger unit,” another voice interjected carefully. “If there truly is a hidden base—”
“I do not care.”
The admission echoed more harshly than intended.
Several heads turned fully now. So’lek barely noticed. His breathing had quickened again, anger and desperation twisting together beneath his skin until they became unbearable. Every second spent talking felt like failure. Every delay another moment you suffered alone.
Then Ri’nela appeared from deeper within the cavern.
She slowed the instant she saw him.
Not the weapons. Not the pacing tension surrounding the gathered warriors. Him.
The exhaustion hollowing his face. The darkness beneath his eyes. The grief he wore now as openly as bloodstains.
“So’lek,” she said carefully, stepping closer. “What is this?”
“I am going north.”
“Into the mountains alone?” Her ears flicked back slightly. “Through fog thick enough to blind Ikran?"
“They have her.”
The words cracked from him before he could stop them.
Silence settled heavily through the cave.
Ri’nela studied him for a long moment, something softening behind her eyes as understanding slowly took shape. “So’lek,” she said, quieter now, “what does she mean to you?”
His throat tightened violently.
Everything in him wanted to reject the question, to move past it, to leave before another moment slipped away. Yet your face rose inside him again with painful clarity—the sound of your laugh, your hands against his skin, the certainty that his soul had begun intertwining with yours long before either of you named it aloud.
“Everything.”
The word left him rough and unsteady.
Ri’nela’s expression shifted.
“I am nothing without her,” he admitted quietly, the truth scraping its way free from somewhere deep and wounded inside him. “Nothing.”
Several warriors lowered their eyes at the confession, as though witnessing something sacred they were never meant to hear.
Ri’nela stepped closer. “You have formed tsaheylu?”
So’lek froze.
The answer caught painfully in his chest.
“No.”
The silence afterward felt heavier than stone.
Ri’nela looked almost startled by it, perhaps expecting denial or shame, but instead she found only grief. A bond unfinished. A love formed so deeply it rivaled tsaheylu itself without ever needing completion.
For a moment she looked ready to scold him like some ancient tsahìk lecturing foolish lovers beneath the trees. Yet whatever sharp words first came to mind died quickly behind her eyes as she remembered you. Your loyalty. Your strength beside them in battle. The way you fought for these people as if born among them.
Ri’nela lifted her hand slowly, pressing her palm against the center of his chest over the hidden handprint beneath the vest.
“If your love for her outbids Eywa’s will,” she said softly, “then your love is the strongest of all.”
The words nearly undid him.
His eyes shut briefly as grief surged again beneath his ribs, violent and aching.
“Do not die being foolish, So’lek,” Ri’nela whispered. “She needs you alive if she is to return to you.”
The cavern remained silent around them, and slowly, painfully, the fury in his chest loosened enough for reason to breathe through it.
Though not gone. Never gone.
But waiting.
—
The resistance caves stirred long before dawn.
Warriors moved through the tunnels in low murmurs, gathering supplies beneath dim firelight while the mountain winds howled faintly through cracks in the stone overhead. The fog rolling down from the northern cliffs had swallowed most of the skies through the night, thick enough to blind even experienced riders if they flew too deep into it. Yet, still, the resistance prepared. Weapons were sharpened. Medical packs assembled. Scouts whispered over rough maps scratched into the stone floor while Ikran handlers moved through the outer caverns, checking harnesses and flight straps beneath flickering lantern glow.
The entire base carried tension now.
So’lek stood near the mouth of the upper caves where cold air spilled through the opening and curled around his skin. The mountains beyond were barely visible through the dense wall of fog swallowing the horizon. Somewhere beyond it, hidden within stone and steel, was you.
The thought settled heavily beneath his ribs once more.
Alive, you had to be.
Ri’nela’s words had lingered long after the cavern emptied. They haunted him now in the quiet moments between movement, burrowing deep into places grief had already hollowed thin. She needs you alive. The truth of it sat uneasily inside him because it forced him to confront something far worse than death itself.
Hope.
Hope meant there was still something left to lose.
His hands tightened slowly around the leather straps he was fastening across his forearm guards. The motions should have been familiar and effortless after years of battle, yet exhaustion made even simple tasks feel distant. His fingers slipped once against the worn buckles before he cursed quietly beneath his breath and forced them steady again.
A low chirr echoed from behind him.
Iley.
The ikran rested within the upper perch carved into the cliffside, her massive wings tucked close against her body while she watched him carefully. Even in the muted cavern light, her colors shimmered faintly beneath the bioluminescent moss lining the walls. She had sensed his unrest for days now. Perhaps longer. Each flight had become harder to pull her from, the creature reluctant to land once she felt the direction of his grief carrying them endlessly across the skies.
So’lek approached her slowly, the tension in his shoulders refusing to ease even now. Iley lowered her head slightly as he neared, rumbling softly deep within her chest. The sound reverberated through him in a way words no longer could.
“You are restless too,” he murmured.
The ikran nudged against his shoulder hard enough to nearly unbalance him.
A humorless breath escaped his nose.
“I know.”
He rested his forehead briefly against the side of her neck, eyes falling shut as the familiar warmth of her skin grounded him. Beneath his palms he could feel her breathing, steady and alive, tethering him to something beyond the fury threatening to consume him whole. The caves, the warriors, and the distant preparation behind him all seemed to fade beneath the weight pressing endlessly through his chest.
You should have been here.
You should have been beside him preparing your own gear while teasing him for the way he overtightened every strap when anxious. You should have been laughing softly beneath your breath while Ri’nela scolded reckless scouts nearby. Every future he saw still carried your shape within it so completely that imagining the world without you felt impossible.
And that impossibility terrified him.
“I cannot lose her,” he admitted quietly against Iley’s skin.
The words nearly vanished beneath the wind.
No warrior stood near enough to hear them. No one except Eywa herself.
Iley rumbled again, softer this time, pressing her head more firmly against him as though sensing the fracture threatening to split him open beneath the surface. So’lek swallowed hard, jaw tightening violently as exhaustion and grief clawed upward once more. He had spent days forcing himself not to unravel completely, burying emotion beneath anger because anger at least kept him moving. But now, standing within the cold mouth of the caves with the mountains looming ahead like waiting ghosts, fear finally found him.
Not fear of death.
Fear of being too late.
A sudden burst of movement echoed through the tunnels behind him as several warriors approached, carrying packs and ammunition crates toward the flight perches. Their voices broke the moment apart before it could deepen further. So’lek pulled away from Iley slowly, forcing his breathing steady again as the walls around him hardened back into stone instead of memory.
One of the scouts paused nearby. “The ground team leaves within the hour,” he informed carefully. “The fog is beginning to thin along the lower cliffs. Ri’nela believes we can move safely by dawn.”
So’lek gave a single nod.
An hour.
The waiting already felt unbearable.
Yet now that movement had finally begun, the suffocating helplessness inside him shifted into something sharper. Focused and violent. Purpose carved itself slowly through the grief, turning sorrow into a blade with only one direction left to point.
North. Toward you.
—
The mountains swallowed the skies whole.
Fog rolled thick between the cliffs in endless waves of white, devouring everything beyond a few strained feet of visibility as the resistance riders pushed north through freezing winds. Even the bioluminescence of Pandora struggled here, dimmed beneath stormclouds and stone so towering they seemed to split the world itself apart. Iley’s wings beat hard beneath So’lek as they cut through the mist, her screeches echoing faintly somewhere ahead of the others before vanishing back into the storm.
The flight had become miserable long before dawn.
Rain lashed against his skin in sharp bursts, soaking through leather and collecting beneath the collar of his vest while the fog reduced the skies to blind instinct and memory. More than once jagged cliff faces emerged from the white without warning, forcing riders to veer violently away at the last moment. One young warrior nearly clipped the mountainside entirely before Ri’nela shouted a warning through the storm.
Still, they flew.
So’lek barely felt the cold anymore.
His hands remained locked tightly around the harness as Iley dove lower through the cliffs, her body weaving effortlessly between narrow passages hidden beneath curtains of mist. Every beat of her wings carried him closer to you. The thought had consumed everything else now. Hunger. Exhaustion. Reason. There was only movement northward and the violent certainty waiting beneath his ribs.
Several riders called signals to one another through sharp whistles when visibility vanished completely, their ikrans forced dangerously close together as the storm worsened. So’lek hardly heard them. His eyes remained fixed forward through the fog, jaw clenched hard enough to ache. Somewhere beyond these mountains, you were trapped behind steel and glass while he wasted precious time fighting weather and distance.
The fury of it threatened to hollow him all over again.
Eventually Ri’nela’s signal cut through the storm ahead.
Land.
The riders descended reluctantly toward the lower cliffs, where narrow ledges carved into the mountainside offered enough shelter to regroup. Iley landed heavily against slick stone, claws scraping loudly as she folded her wings against the rain. So’lek dismounted before she had fully settled, feet striking hard against the cliffside while the others secured supplies nearby.
The fog was thinner here near the ground, though only barely. Dark pines stretched endlessly down the mountainside beneath drifting sheets of white while freezing runoff rushed violently through the ravines below.
Nor approached first.
“You should eat.”
So’lek ignored him, checking the chamber of his rifle instead.
“You have not slept properly in days either,” Nor continued carefully, lowering his voice beneath the sounds of the storm. “Your hands are shaking.”
“They are steady enough.”
The words came flat as Nor watched him for a moment longer, concern deepening across his face before his attention shifted toward the valley below. “Scouts found signs of RDA movement further down the cliffs,” he explained. “Ri’nela believes we are close.”
Close.
The word struck like a blade sliding beneath So’lek’s ribs.
He turned immediately toward the slope descending into the trees below, already moving before Ri’nela’s voice stopped him.
“We move together.”
So’lek’s shoulders tightened visibly.
“She may not have time for together.”
Ri’nela stepped closer through the drifting fog, rain clinging to the braids against her shoulders. “And if you die rushing blindly into the mountains, then neither of you survive this.”
The truth of it only made him angrier.
His fists clenched once before finally loosening at his sides as several scouts emerged from below the ridgeline carrying rifles and scattered equipment. One of them looked shaken.
“There was fighting,” the warrior reported breathlessly. “Near the lower pass.”
So’lek moved before anyone else could speak.
The group descended quickly through slick stone and dense forest until the scent of smoke and blood cut sharply through the rain. The remains of an RDA patrol lay scattered along the ravine floor below. Broken equipment. Torn packs. Blood washed slowly across the stone beneath the storm runoff.
The bodies were fresh.
So’lek’s pulse thundered.
One soldier had been pinned violently against a tree by an arrow buried so deep through his chest that the shaft had splintered from impact. Another lay crumpled near the rocks below with his throat torn nearly open.
The resistance warriors spread cautiously through the wreckage while So’lek descended into the clearing alone.
Then he saw it.
Half buried beneath mud and rainwater near the edge of the ravine rested one of your arrows.
The arrows he had watched you sharpen beside the fires countless nights before, the feather coloring at ends unique to you.
So’lek stopped breathing.
Slowly he crouched, lifting it carefully from the mud. Fresh blood still stained the tip, as if it had been torn free from a wound.
Not old or abandoned.
Used.
The realization hit him so violently it nearly staggered him where he knelt.
You fought back.
A strange sound escaped him then, something between relief and rage as his fingers closed tightly around the blade. Every ounce of grief twisting inside him sharpened instantly into purpose.
Alive.
You were alive.
A sudden explosion ripped through the mountainside before the thought could fully settle.
The ground shook beneath their feet as fire erupted somewhere deeper within the valley ahead, bright orange flames momentarily illuminating the fog in violent flashes. Several ikran shrieked from the cliffs above while warriors immediately reached for weapons.
So’lek’s head snapped toward the source.
North. Towards the hidden base.
Towards you.
—
The moment Mercer spoke So’lek’s name aloud, something inside you changed.
Hope was a dangerous thing. You understood that now more than ever. It rooted itself deep inside the ribs and refused to die, even here beneath steel ceilings and fluorescent lights, where Eywa’s voice struggled to reach. Once you knew he was alive, truly alive, there was no longer room left inside you for surrender. The grief that had kept you motionless upon the cold floor sharpened into purpose so quickly it almost frightened you.
So you began watching. Listening.
Learning the rhythm of the facility the way you once learned the pulse of the forests. Guards rotated in predictable patterns. Scientists lingered too long while speaking outside your cell. The medical staff grew careless once you stopped resisting. That had been your first advantage. Compliance made humans arrogant.
So you let them believe you were broken.
The next medic who entered your containment room alone did not even notice the shift in your breathing until it was too late.
You moved the instant the restraints loosened.
The sound he made was short and wet as you slammed him hard against the glass wall, ripping the injector from his grip before driving it straight into his throat. Alarms erupted immediately. Red lights flooded the room in violent flashes while you stripped the access card from his belt and ran.
The hallways stretched endlessly.
Metal corridors twisting in every direction beneath screaming sirens and pounding footsteps as soldiers flooded through the lower sectors searching for you. You barely recognized your own body anymore as it moved. Faster. Sharper. Instinct carried you through every turn while gunfire sparked against steel walls behind you.
One guard rounded the corner too slowly, and you took his weapon before he could fully raise it.
Another came from the left corridor.
Then another.
The facility became chaotic around you.
You remembered very little after that beyond movement and survival. Blood slicking your palms. Human shouting echoing through ventilation shafts. Your own breathing roaring inside your ears as you carved your way through the maze, searching for one thing only.
Your gear.
When you finally found the storage room hidden behind reinforced doors, the sight nearly stopped you cold. Your clothing had been thrown carelessly across a steel table beside your weapons, cataloged and tagged like trophies. Rage surged so violently through you that your vision blurred.
You snatched your knives first.
The familiar weight settled instantly into your palms like returning pieces of yourself. By the time soldiers breached the doorway moments later, you were already moving again.
The first died before crossing the threshold.
The second managed half a scream.
From there, the base began collapsing from the inside outward.
You moved through it like wildfire. Vent shafts. Catwalks. Supply corridors. Every piece of knowledge stolen through observation turned against them now. One by one perimeter guards vanished beneath arrows fired from the smoke while isolated patrols never returned to their posts. Bodies fell silently into mud outside the compound walls while alarms screamed endlessly into the mountains.
You needed them to notice.
Needed someone beyond these walls to hear the destruction and come searching.
So you made the loudest statement you could.
The AMP suit had already been disabled when you found it abandoned near the eastern loading platforms, smoke pouring from exposed wiring while nearby fuel canisters sat unsecured in the panic. Your remaining arrows were few now. Precious.
You tied the explosive charge directly beneath one shaft with shaking fingers.
“Come find me,” you whispered.
Then you fired.
The arrow struck dead center, and for one suspended heartbeat nothing happened.
Then the world erupted.
The explosion tore violently through the compound in a chain reaction of fire and metal, fuel igniting so rapidly that the shockwave lifted you clean off your feet. Heat engulfed everything. Steel screamed. Smoke swallowed the sky as the blast hurled you backward across the platform.
Your spine slammed hard against the stair railing as pain exploded through your body.
A sharp cry tore from your throat as the impact knocked the air from your lungs entirely. The world was ringing violently around you while flames climbed higher through the base behind you, black smoke rolling into the mountains in enormous waves.
Coughing hard, you forced yourself upward onto trembling arms.
And then you saw them.
Dark figures burst through the fog overhead as Ikran riders broke across the horizon.
Your breath caught. They came.
Eywa, they came.
Ikran's screams pierced through the smoke while riders descended from the clouds like wrath itself, silhouettes cutting through firelight and ash. For one impossible moment, relief struck you so hard it weakened your knees.
So’lek.
You tried to stand fully, but pain lanced violently through your side, forcing a limp instead as dizziness spun the world unevenly beneath your feet. Blood ran warm down your arm now. You had not even noticed being hit while gunfire erupted somewhere below.
You staggered through smoke and wreckage, weaving between burning debris while soldiers shouted over each other in panic. The base had become a battlefield. Fire illuminated the fog in violent flashes while alarms still screamed without pause.
Then a voice stopped you cold.
“Well,” Mercer drawled from somewhere ahead through the smoke, “there she is.”
You froze, thinking to yourself, This is where he dies. This is where you kill him.
He emerged slowly from the wreckage with a rifle already trained on your chest, ash drifting around him like black snow. One side of his mask was streaked with soot and blood now, though the smile pulling at his mouth remained infuriatingly calm.
“You are becoming a real pain in my ass.”
You bared your teeth despite the blood coating your tongue. “Funny,” you rasped. “I was just thinking the same.”
Mercer laughed softly, adjusting the rifle higher against his shoulder. “You really thought you were getting out of here?”
Behind him, the mountains thundered with distant explosions and ikran cries.
“They found me,” you shot back, breath uneven. “And they are going to tear this place apart.”
Something dangerous flickered briefly across Mercer’s expression then. Not fear.
Calculation.
“You won’t get away,” he said flatly.
Then he fired, but not at you.
The bullet struck the fuel barrel beside you as light consumed everything.
The explosion ripped violently through the platform with enough force to shatter steel beneath your feet. Heat slammed into you like a living thing as the world vanished into fire and noise and unbearable white pain.
And then—
Nothing.
—
The hidden base burned beneath him.
Smoke swallowed the mountains in violent black waves as So’lek and Iley burst over the compound walls like something torn free from Eywa’s wrath herself. Gunfire erupted immediately from below, tracer rounds ripping upward through the fog while soldiers screamed over alarms and collapsing structures. So’lek barely heard any of it. His rifle thundered endlessly in his hands as Iley dove low over the rooftops, her screeches cutting through the firestorm while bullets sparked against metal beneath them.
“Where are you?!” he roared into the smoke.
Everywhere he looked, there was destruction.
Burning AMP suits. Dead soldiers. Explosions still rippling through fuel lines beneath the compound. The entire base had been ripped apart from within before the resistance had even arrived, and somewhere deep beneath the chaos a fierce, almost painful pride surged through his chest.
You did this. You fought and survived.
He spotted arrows buried in human throats. Bodies dragged into shadows. Blood trails weaving through the maze of platforms and stairwells like marks left deliberately for him to follow. Every piece of it carried your handprint. Your fury.
And Eywa, he had never loved you more.
Iley landed heavily atop one of the upper platforms, claws shrieking against steel as So’lek rose immediately from the harness, scanning the battlefield below through drifting smoke and flame. Warriors descended through the skies around him now, resistance fighters flooding into the compound while gunfire erupted from every direction.
Then he saw you.
You stumbled through the wreckage below with one hand clutched tightly against your side, blood soaking through your fingers while smoke curled around your body in thick waves. Even injured, even barely standing, he recognized the shape of you instantly. The sight nearly brought him to his knees.
His heart stopped, and his chest ached.
Yet a man stood before you. Mercer, and the rifle in his hands glinted through the firelight.
So’lek did not think; he couldn't. Only instinct took over. “Iley!”
The ikran launched instantly from the rooftop beneath him as he fired blindly into the compound below, rage consuming every coherent thought inside his skull. The world narrowed into violent tunnel vision. There was only you. Only the man standing before you. Only the unbearable distance between them.
You did not see him, did not hear his screams, or see his face.
Then everything slowed as Mercer fired.
The fuel barrel beside you erupted in blinding white light as the explosion tore through the platform with enough force to shake the mountains themselves. Fire swallowed the world whole as the shockwave slammed violently into Iley mid-flight, sending both rider and ikran spiraling hard through smoke and debris. So’lek hit the rooftop brutally, rolling across burning metal before crashing against the railing hard enough to drive the air from his lungs.
Pain screamed through his shoulder, yet he barely felt it.
“No!”
The roar ripped from him, raw and animalistic, as he forced himself upward through the smoke, one arm shielding his face from the consuming heat. Fire climbed everywhere now. The entire upper platform had collapsed inward beneath the blast, steel twisting and groaning beneath flames while debris rained endlessly from above.
You were gone; your presence missing from the place he just found you.
So’lek staggered through the inferno anyway.
“Sarentu!”
Nothing answered him beyond screaming metal.
Then he saw Mercer.
The human commander was being dragged backward through the smoke by surviving soldiers, one of his men shouting frantically while blood streamed down Mercer’s face. The moment So’lek recognized him, something murderous detonated inside his chest.
Mercer.
The man who took you.
The man who caged you.
The man who—
So’lek moved before thought could catch him, fury surging violently through every nerve as he reached for the blade at his side. He wanted Mercer’s blood beneath his hands. Wanted to rip the life from his body piece by piece until the mountains themselves remembered his screams.
But then another thought cut through the rage.
You.
The realization struck so painfully; it felt like another wound.
You were more important. More important than vengeance or rage.
So’lek hissed sharply through clenched teeth, forcing himself to tear his eyes away from Mercer despite every instinct clawing toward violence. His chest heaved violently as he searched the burning wreckage again.
Then he saw it.
Beyond the shattered railing where the explosion had torn through the platform, broken branches and crushed undergrowth carved a violent path down the mountainside into the forest below from your fall. The moment he saw it, So’lek ran.
He vaulted the ruined railing without hesitation as Iley screeched somewhere overhead, circling through smoke until his sharp whistle cut through the chaos. The ikran dove immediately toward him, wings folding tightly as she descended through the burning fog. So’lek caught the harness in one motion and hauled himself onto her back.
“Down!”
Iley hurled herself over the cliffside.
The forest rushed upward in blurred green and black beneath them as So’lek tracked the destruction left through the trees. Broken limbs. Blood against stone. Torn vines hanging where your body had crashed through the canopy. That's when he saw you. Crushed beneath twisted brush near the ravine floor.
Motionless.
“No no no—”
The words broke apart as he practically fell from Iley before she had fully landed, stumbling hard across the forest floor as he tore through the brush toward you. His knees slammed into the earth beside your body, hard enough to bruise.
You weren’t moving. Nothing was moving besides his frantic hands, tearing away the vines and sticks.
Your skin was streaked with soot and blood, your chest terrifyingly still beneath torn clothing while one arm lay twisted awkwardly beneath you. Burn marks crawled across your side where the explosion had caught you.
For one horrible moment the world simply… stopped.
So’lek’s breathing shattered.
“No…” His voice cracked violently as his hands hovered uselessly over you, terrified to touch, terrified to confirm what his mind was already screaming at him. “No, no…”
His fingers finally found your face.
Warm.
Still warm.
Relief hit him so sharply it hurt, curling inside his chest with a sickening feeling.
“Yawne…” The word collapsed from him brokenly as he gathered you carefully into his arms, cradling your body against his chest while panic and grief ripped through him all over again. “Stay with me. Stay with me.”
Your head lolled weakly against his shoulder as no response came. Fear unlike anything he had ever known consumed him whole then. Not battle fear or survival, but loss.
The unbearable realization that after crossing mountains and fire and death to reach you… he still might lose you anyway.
His forehead pressed hard against yours as his entire body shook.
“I found you,” he whispered desperately, his voice splintering apart. “Please… Eywa.”
The battle still raged somewhere above them, distant now beneath the ringing in So’lek’s ears. Gunfire cracked through the mountains in uneven bursts while flames painted the fog in violent shades of orange and gold, but none of it reached him fully. Not anymore. The world had narrowed into the weight of your body in his arms and the unbearable terror clawing through his chest.
So’lek pressed one shaking hand against the side of your face again, desperate for movement, for breath, for anything that would silence the horror building inside him. Blood streaked across his fingers immediately, mixing with soot and ash as he carefully pushed tangled hair from your face.
“You cannot leave me." The word broke apart in his throat. “Do you hear me? You cannot.”
His voice sounded unfamiliar. Raw. Fractured.
He had crossed mountains for you. Burned through grief and rage and fear until there was nothing left inside him except the need to reach you. And now that he finally had, now that you were here against his chest, warm and real, he could feel death lingering close enough to touch.
His forehead pressed shakily against yours.
The confession tore from somewhere deep and wounded inside him, stripped bare beneath the panic. So’lek’s hands trembled openly now as he searched your injuries, pressing carefully against the blood soaking your side while trying desperately to remember every healing technique Ri’nela had ever taught him. His breathing refused to steady enough to think clearly.
Something warm struck your cheek.
Tears.
The realization shattered something else inside him entirely.
So’lek had not cried since he was a child.
Yet grief and relief had hollowed him so completely these past weeks that now emotion poured from him uncontrollably, silent and shaking as he held you tighter against his chest. He buried his face briefly against your hair, breathing you in beneath smoke and blood and ash.
Your lashes fluttered weakly, and So’lek froze, breath catching for a brief moment.
A strained breath escaped you, barely more than air, but it hit him harder than any blade ever could. His head snapped downward immediately, hands tightening around you with terrified relief.
“Sarentu?”
Your vision swam when your eyes finally forced themselves open. Firelight blurred through the trees overhead in fractured pieces while pain pulsed violently through every inch of your body. For one disoriented moment, you thought perhaps Eywa had finally taken pity on you.
Then you heard him.
“Stay with me,” So’lek whispered desperately, his voice breaking apart again the instant your eyes found his. "Stay with me.”
Your breath caught.
He looked ruined.
Soot covered his skin and armor alike, smoke curling through loose braids while tears streaked openly down his face without restraint. His hands shook where they held you. You had never seen him like this before. Never seen So’lek—the warrior feared by both sky people and Na’vi alike—look so utterly undone.
“All this…” you rasped weakly, trying for humor despite the blood on your tongue. “For me?”
A broken sound escaped him somewhere between a laugh and a sob.
“Yes,” he breathed instantly. “Always for you.”
Your hand lifted weakly toward his face, trembling from the effort until he caught it immediately, pressing your palm hard against his cheek like something sacred. His eyes shut the moment your skin touched his.
You felt him lean into it.
“I told him,” you whispered slowly, fighting through the dizziness pulling at you again. “Told Mercer… you would come for me.”
So’lek’s forehead dropped against yours once more, a trembling breath leaving him as his entire body seemed to finally crack beneath the weight of everything he had carried alone.
“There was nowhere in this world Eywa could have hidden you from me.”
The words settled warmly through the ache in your chest as your fingers curled weakly against his jaw, eyes tracing every exhausted line of his face. “You look terrible.”
That finally pulled a real laugh from him, soft and broken though it was. He shook his head once, overcome again as he pressed another desperate kiss against your forehead.
“You nearly died.”
“So did you it seems,” you whispered back.
For a moment neither of you spoke.
The mountains burned around you. War still thundered in the distance. Yet down here beneath the trees, held tightly in So’lek’s arms, the world suddenly felt impossibly small and quiet.
His gaze dropped slowly to your mouth then, hesitation flickering there for only the briefest second before emotion overwhelmed restraint entirely. One hand slid shakily against the side of your neck as he kissed you like a man dragged half-dead from drowning.
It wasn’t careful or restrained. It was truly desperate as every ounce of grief and relief and unbearable love was poured into it all at once. His lips trembled against yours as he pulled you closer despite the fear of hurting you, breathing you in like he still could not believe you were real beneath his hands.
You kissed him back just as fiercely as your injuries allowed.
The realization hit all over again as your forehead rested against his afterward, both of you breathing unevenly while the fires burned beyond the ravine. You were both alive by the will of Eywa. By the will of your trust and your bond.
“I thought I lost you." So’lek admitted quietly.
You swallowed hard against the emotion tightening your throat before brushing your thumb gently beneath his eye, catching the tears still clinging there.
Summary: How the boys react to an unknown flower and its corresponding pollen.
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Na’vi Dictionary:
Sa’nu- (affectionate) Mom
Sempu - (affectionate) Dad
‘Itan - Son
‘Ite - daughter
Yawne - beloved
Yawntu - loved one
Yawntutsyìp - darling, ‘little’ loved one
Kelku - home
Tsahìk - spiritual leader/healer
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A/N: I really just went all in with the pet names didn’t I. These ended up much longer than I originally meant for them to be. oh well. Please enjoy these down bad boys written with all the fluff I could muster. (p.s. So’lek’s part isn’t directly linked to Tsmuke but I did write it with that story in mind. Also, maybe spoiler??, at least one of the names for the children will be canon in that series.)
❁ So’lek: You had been very clear with him, had told him you would be busy most of the day. Fibers that had to be collected for your youngest that was hitting another growth spurt. And initially there had been no issue with that. He would take your oldest children out hunting and you take your youngest with you. Simple.
So, you went on your way. Basket tucked neatly under arm and against your hip. Your youngest was nestled cozily against your back, sleeping her little life away. Though you weren’t complaining. With your older children, it was only a matter of time until she was old enough to join in the trouble they caused.
The forest was peaceful, tranquil in every way that mattered. Your knife worked steadily, prying loose clusters of varying quality. This was good, the nicest ones would be used on weavings for the children. The not as mature and slightly rough ones would be used to fix gaps in baskets you’d been meaning to fix for a while now.
It was well into the afternoon now. The sun was high, filtering through dense branches and vines. Leaving little pockets of cool shade to combat the heavy humidity and strong sun. Your daughter had been well behaved all morning, barely rustling from her place on your back. Little Pofi, she’d swept her father away the first time he’d held her.
Barely a day went by that he didn’t insist on carrying her, easing your burdens immensely after birth. Now, six short months had passed and this was the first time she’d been away from her father and brothers for so long. The thought brings a smile to your face, relishing in how close your family was. The strength of love passed between parents to children and sibling to sibling.
Quiet fussing pulls you from your thoughts, moving to lightly bounce up and down, back and forth. The movement was enough to lull your daughter back into slumber long enough for you to almost finish your gathering.
“Sa’nu! Sa’nu, where are you?” The loud voice of your eldest makes you pause, knife half dug under another cluster. Another call from your son makes you pull the knife free, tucking it in the half full basket beside you. While your other hand shifts under the small bundle tied to your back as you stand up.
“Ma ‘itan?”
Small, hurried footsteps crash through the foliage. Then, an unruly head of braids pokes around a tree, relief flooding his face. “Sa’nu, there you are.”
Large steps carry you to your son, placing one hand on his head, checking him over. “Hu’a, what is wrong?” When he doesn’t look at you, your hand shifts under his chin pulling his attention up to you. “Hu’a, I need you to answer me. Are you alright? Your brother and father, are they okay?”
“Ukyo’s fine, sa’nu. But sempu’s acting weird.”
Your brow pinches, “What do you mean weird?”
He grabs your hand, pulling sharply. “Cmon, I’ll show you.”
“Not so hard, ma ‘itan, or you will wake your sister.” The palm that had been supporting your youngest shifts quickly, keeping her as steady as you could with your eldest rushing you.
Your son was quick, insistent. Pulling you further from the fibers you were collecting. Closer to the river’s edge. “Hurry sa’nu!” Your grip adjusts under your daughter, trying to keep up with your son.
A low groan pulls your attention further down the riverbank. There was your second son, supporting a large portion of his father’s weight. Your heart drops at the thought of him being hurt so badly he could not walk without support. “Ma So’lek!” Fingers move to loosen the wrapping holding your daughter, catching your son’s attention. “Hu’a, take your sister.”
Your feet carry you down through the mud, flicking small bits up your leg that you choose to ignore. Hands are already reaching out, feeling and checking for any reason your mate was like this. “Ma yawne, I am fine.”
“You are not fine or you would not be leaning on your son right now.” Your second child was more than happy to pass his father off to you. Although, you’re sure he soon regretted that as your boys watch on in horror at their fathers actions.
So’lek immediately wraps his arms tightly around your waist, pulling you flush against him. His nose is soon buried along your shoulder, curving up into the side of your neck breathing in deeply. A soft rumble echoes through his chest as his shoulders relax into your hold.
Your hands raise to rest one on his shoulder, pushing slightly away. The other rests on the back of his head, slowly petting the unruly style down into something manageable. “Ma yawntu?”
He doesn’t respond, instead choosing to litter small kisses along exposed skin. Ranging from your outer shoulder all the way up to just under your ear before shifting across your face to your lips. Neither of you were shy about showing affection around your children, it was a natural part of life and love. But this was a bit more intimate than they’d really ever witnessed before.
And the reaction was immediate, “Ew, sempu. Leave sa'nu alone.” Two hands start pushing against his hips, trying and failing to pry him off of you.
“She is my mate, I will love her how I see fit.” He snuggles further into you, arms shifting a bit lower to then lift you slightly off the ground. Forcing you to lean just as much into him as he was into you.
Every question you asked him was ultimately ignored. Seeming to enjoy hearing your voice more then the thought of answering any question on what happened to make him behave this way so openly outside of your family’s camp. So, you turn to your second oldest who was still pushing against his father to free you. Hu’a had come closer, slowly rocking his baby sister against his chest. “Hu’a, Ukyo, what happened?”
Ukyo gives up on his attempts to free you, choosing instead to cover his eyes at his father’s ministrations against your cheek. “It was a flower, sa’nu.”
So’lek takes advantage of the small pause you give, shoving his head under your chin. “A flower?”
“It was big, blue, and purple. Sempu told me to leave it alone but I was poking at it. It sprayed him in the face.” Ukyo’s ears lower, tail wrapping around his leg. “Did I hurt sempu?”
Your hand quickly reaches out to brush through his messy hair, soothing him. “No, ma ‘itan. Sometimes things happen that we cannot control. Your father was just worried about you, was all.”
“But, now he’s weird.”
It takes everything in you to not laugh at his words. “Yes, but your father has always been weird.” Short grumbling words vibrate against your skin, showing your mates’ displeasure in your words. “And next time, you will listen when he tells you something.”
“Yes, sa’nu.” Your eldest had come closer now, sticking a finger out and poking his brother to ease the tension. It works to a degree, and Ukyo whips around, swatting at his brother. “Stop it, Hu’a.”
Your eyes soften as you watch your children, “Careful boys.” A low hum brings your attention back to the current problem. “Come ma yawntu, let us get you back to Hometree.” Turning your head over your shoulder to your children, “Hu’a, Ukyo, stay close and do not wake your sister please.”
Small voices agree, trailing right behind the sight of their father clinging close to you. Smothering his face into your neck and forcing the both of you to awkwardly walk back to Hometree and Etuwa who hopefully would know what to do.
There was no doubt So’lek would be embarrassed when his mind was clear later. When he learns the way he clung to you all the way to Hometree. The looks of amusement and bewilderment that painted various faces watching the ‘Dog Tag Warrior’ refusing to let go of his mate. The gleam that overtook Itu’s eyes as he watched you guide your family up to Etuwa. But that was for another day.
❁ Tsu’tey: Cries of the hunting party ring through the trees, announcing their success from the hunt. You’re currently sat in the weaver’s circle, skilled fingers steady, precise. Patiently practicing repeated motions. Over, under, pull, and repeat. It was easy to get lost in the movement and soft conversation.
It was even easier to ignore the sound of growing footsteps. Loud and hurried. There was no reason for you to assume they were heading for you. And there was no reason for Tsu’tey to come here after a hunt. Your courting, while not new, had boundaries. Ones the both of you had agreed on to maintain the required reputations demanded of his stature. Still, new habits were formed everyday. Ones that sometimes ignored previously set boundaries.
So it startles you when large, strong arms wrap around your shoulders suddenly from behind. Pulling you back into a warm toned chest. It wasn’t even a question of who it could’ve been. That earthy wood smell mixed lightly with sweat was one you’d come to recognize at an embarrassing speed now.
“Ma Tsu’tey? Did something go wrong on the hunt?”
He takes a moment to answer, like the words would bite him if he wasn’t careful. “No, missed you.” His arms tighten slightly after his confession, like he was afraid you would be taken away if he didn’t hold you tight.
Conversations around you had dwindled when Tsu’tey had arrived, ready to show their respects to their leader. But now? Now there was a small murmur of giggles that floated around you two, watching their Olo’eyktan cling to you with affection that was normally saved for private moments. On a walk through the forest, after a playful flight at sunset, tucked away along a stream's edge. This was the first time he’d ever shown more than a small soft smile in front of others. You had both agreed to it.
Purple rushes up your neck, painting your cheeks. “Ma Tsu’tey, do you know where you are?” Beadwork sat uselessly in your lap, much too wrapped up in his blatant display to even consider trying to continue.
“With you, ma yawntutsyìp.” His face ducks down, softly breathing in your scent while leaving his coated along your neck. A painfully intimate action.
Your eyes must have looked like they were about to pop out of your head. In the corner, a loud snort bounces off of bark as someone hides behind their weaving. A younger weaver three spaces down has to fully turn away to not laugh openly at her leader’s brazenness. One elder watches on fondly, very happy at the display of care and love.
Somewhere in the back of your mind stood out a phrase Jake had taken to teach you. ‘If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em’. You have no idea what situations that should be used in, but this couldn’t be it, could it? Your mind drifts as Tsu’tey’s hands start to knead at your stomach. Thoughts of falling back in his embrace. Sinking into the affection he was choosing to show in front of others and reciprocating to match his level.
Then you’re pulled out of such thoughts when someone coughs. Hands immediately grab at his fingers, stopping his tender actions. You try to turn your face as close to him as possible, careful to keep your voice lower this time. “Ma yawntu, we are not alone.”
Tsu’tey just buries his face on the other side of your neck, giving it the same treatment. “I do not care, they should rejoice. Their Olo’eyktan has found a mate.”
His words feed the blush that has now taken over your face, lips pressing together to hide your enjoyment in his words. “Yes, but there are things we should be careful to show in front of others.” Your words pull a small groan from him. But he doesn’t stop nuzzling you. Doesn’t stop scenting you.
Finally, one elder takes pity on poor, purple tinged you and your unashamed lover. “Come, we will leave them to ‘talk’.” She makes direct eye contact as she starts ushering the others out, adding to your already permanent flush. Most did not bother hiding their smiles as they passed by. Much too amused at the display that had been presented right in front of them.
Silence wraps around you both, leaving only your hammering heartbeat to break the stillness. It takes a minute to fully collect yourself, setting what you’d been working on in a basket to be finished tomorrow. Tsu’tey had not moved. Even better, he’d pressed further into you. Shifted to pull you between his legs, fully pressed against him.
There was no way you weren’t bathed in his scent by now. You were almost sure that if you were to walk around the clan right now, people would not know it was you without looking first. With a deep breath, you try again. “Ma Tsu’tey-.”
“Yawntu.”
His interruption made you pause, lips pressing together to hide your own smile. “Ma yawntu, are you sure nothing happened today?”
Tsu’tey is quiet, too occupied with rubbing his cheek on yours at the moment. A gentle prod from you makes him force out words in between rubs. “I found a flower.”
“A flower?”
“I was going to pick it for you. It would have been pretty in your hair.” You feel his brow furrow some, lips curling downwards against your shoulder blade. “It spat on me.”
Several moments pass before you are able to gather your thoughts. “It.. spat on you?”
“A large cloud of pollen. It covered my face. Jake said I looked like a.. like a vektoran lady.” His lips moved awkwardly, not understanding the word or what it meant.
You had no idea what that was, but clearly Jake had meant it as some kind of joke. You would have to ask him later once this had passed. “Is.. is that a bad thing?”
“I do not know.” He finally raises his head to meet your gaze, eyes slightly hazy. “I just know I missed you. A lot. I did not want to wait to see you, to hold you.” Strong hands move to rest on your arms, pulling you to face him better. “I could not wait. I had to see you as soon as I arrived.”
His words make your heart swell. Tsu’tey was not a man of many words and the ones he did use were practical, practiced. These words, they were not something you would have expected to ever hear fall from his lips.
A hand raises to cup his face, a soft content smile rests on your lips. “I missed you too.” Then the other rests on the other cheeks pulling his full attention. “But, next time something like this happens you need to go to Tsahìk first.”
Tsu’tey fully ignores your words for a moment, pushing his face down into your hold. Then he quietly admits, “Just wanted you.”
If you hadn’t already melted, those words just turned you into a puddle. “You have me, ma yawntu.”
It took many promises of affection for him to finally release his hold on you. And many more for him to allow you to gather food from the communal fire alone, forcing him to stand at the edge of the space. It was bad enough he’d acted that way in front of the weavers earlier. If anyone else saw, if Jake saw Tsu’tey like that, you would never hear the end of it. Though, he was more than content to cling to you all the way back to his kelku, settling in for a long night of cuddles and shared affection hidden from view. You just hoped Jake would go easy on Tsu’tey once he came back to his senses.
❁ Tarsem: “Tell me what happened.” Mo’at is currently starring at the scene before her, thoroughly unimpressed.
“We were out gathering what you had asked for this morning. Sap, bark, roots; the good ones that grow down around the river’s bend and well.. he sort of got sprayed.” Silently scolding yourself and asking how you got into this mess. Great Mother, why was this your plan? Were you supposed to die of embarrassment today?
When elaboration does not follow Mo’at prods, “With what, child, I am not a mind reader.”
Your head shakes, movement limited as your kuru knocks into Tarsem’s forehead. “I am not sure, Tsahìk. It was a flower of some kind. Large and vibrant. I have never seen one like that before.”
“I see,” Mo’at turns to the young warrior currently clinging to you like you were the only thing that was keeping him alive. “Come here, child, let me see you.” Her hand moves, showing him where she wanted him.
You wait, expecting him to move to where Tsahìk was pointing. When he doesn’t, you tap him with your elbow, trying to subtly get his attention. “Tarsem, you should let go now. Go to Tsahìk.” Instead, he refuses to let go. Choosing to shuffle you further back into his arms, almost into his lap.
“No,” his voice is muffled, mouth pressed almost fully against the back of your neck. “’s warm. Smells good, like home.” Fingers tighten their hold on your side, chest firmly pressed against your back.
His words send a large flush over your body, appalled he’d said that in front of Mo’at. Who, to your ever increasing horror, was watching his shameless display of affection, clearly less than amused. “I cannot help you if you do not let me.” Another small shuffle shifts you back onto his knees, pushing your feet awkwardly out of the way, still refusing to listen to Tsahìk.
“Happy here.” His breath tickles the small hairs on your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. More embarrassment floods your face at the fact that Mo’at was witness to all of this. Maybe the Great Mothers’ plan of death by embarrassment wasn’t so bad after all.
Mo’at’s eyes bore heavily down on the both of you. And while Tarsem was completely oblivious to this fact, you were not. Every second the Tsahìk stared was borderline torture. Why did you ask Tarsem to come with you today? It could’ve been anyone else. But no! You just had to run into him this morning. Just had to think of an excuse to spend time together. And he just had to agree with you, following behind without a second of hesitation. Tucking the basket you’d brought up under his arm.
Your throat bobs, not doubting for a second that you would have to shoulder the blame. Not the numbskull currently trying to blend in with your spine. Or better yet, the growing ‘pride’ of the Omatikaya. Yeah, you absolutely would be blamed for this. The only person who manages to get Tarsem to shirk his duties every now and then.
Tarsem was a skilled hunter, an even better warrior. The Olo’eyktan had nothing but great things to say about him every chance he was asked about warriors. It was always Neteyam and Tarsem. ‘The best of their age.’ And you did not want to face his wrath if he found out Tarsem was exposed to something while skipping training today.
The invisible weight of the Tsahìk’s eyes lifts for a few glorious moments. Moving with steady grace, pulling various herbs forward, putting some back after a short consideration. Then she turns back, presenting a small cluster of leaves. “Chew.”
Tarsem’s arms tighten significantly around your waist, sinking his face further into your neck. “No.”
You can tell Mo’at’s patience was stronger than yours would ever be. Her hand stays extended, waiting for Tarsem to act the way he was known for. Strong, steadfast, wise beyond his years. When he continues to push his face against your neck, slowly moving back and forth, rubbing his cheek against the crook of your neck, she turns the cluster to you.
The message was clear, ‘Stupid, stubborn boy. Maybe he will listen to you.’ So you take the cluster, allowing Tsahìk to turn back to things that required her attention. Patients that were willing to listen. “Ma Tarsem, here.” Trying to twist however you could to face him.
“Why do you do this to me?” His head finally lifts from where he’d been hidden for the last two hours. You are almost not quick enough to hide the shiver that crawls down your spine from the absence of his heat. “Do you not like me?”
Your brow furrows some, confused. “That is not why and you know it.”
“Then why?” You had to blink several times to register what you were seeing. Tarsem was pouting. Full on bottom lip jutting out, pouting. It took everything in you to not melt at the sight.
“You do not feel well, remember? You complained of a headache after inhaling the pollen. This,” You wiggle the small bundle. “This will help with that. Then we can go.”
He regards the leaves with high suspicion, eyes narrowing and pout deepening. “You want me to leave you alone? Am.. Am I a bother?”
In truth, this whole thing had not bothered you one bit. In fact, you very much enjoyed the attention he was giving you. Tarsem might be your closest friend, and secret crush, but very seldom does he truly let loose. Sure, he’s looser around you more than others. But he still holds himself the same way he always has. Confident, strong, slightly stoic, and borderline unattainable.
To have this much of his attention on you was a dream. But it wasn’t coming from the part of him you really wanted it from. It wasn’t actually coming from ‘him’. So you bit your tongue, shifting again to face him more clearly. “I want you clear headed. Whatever that flower was, the pollen it released, it is making you act differently.” Voice quiets, embarrassed about what you were going to admit. “I like how you are already, I do not want a different you.”
A deep hue of purple climbs from his chest to his ears, matching yours perfectly. Never had you been so grateful at the large space the healing tent occupied. You would have died of embarrassment if the other healers in there had heard. If the Tsahìk had heard. “You like me?” His voice is quiet, gentle. Almost fitting back into the normal cadence he used.
You just push the leaves against his lips, praying he will take them and ignore your burning ears. “Yes.”
He almost bites your fingers in his haste, chewing slowly and deliberately. A long silence stretches between you, you watching him chew and him staring down at your hands. Across the tent Mo’at’s voice carries clearly, “Do not swallow them right away. Let them rest in your cheeks until dinner.” Your cheeks flare at the possibility she’d overheard your conversation or that she’d been watching you two.
A small flicker of clarity peaks through the haze in his eyes, nodding to Mo’at’s words. “Yes, Tsahìk.”
Tarsem paid no mind to the embarrassing situation he’d created. Much too happy and content with your words. Though, he might have something different to say later on. Once the herbs in his cheeks had had time to work as they were intended to. Then again, something else might preoccupy his mind more than the potential embarrassment and new reputation. You definitely had some things to discuss when he was more clear minded.
A/N, this takes place like 5 years after the ATWOW
The volcanic ridge still smoked from the last battle when the three leaders made their pact.
Varang stood like living obsidian, ash streaked across her broad shoulders. Jake Sully spoke with the weight of two worlds. Colonel Quaritch gave a curt nod. A new RDA splinter faction carved through Pandora like a sky-metal plague. No single clan could stop it.
So they would become one.
“The blood of my daughter and your son will bind us,” Varang declared. She gestured to you—her eldest, silent and straight backed. Ash markings streaked your arms, fire opal beads at your throat. You had not spoken. Duty was duty.
Neteyam stood at Jake’s right, tall and steady. His golden eyes met yours. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking, nor did you want to.
The ceremony was brief. Vows spoken.
The night air carried sulfur. Inside, a small fire pit glowed—your one request.
The marui felt smaller than it should have, the air thick with the scent of sulfur from your small fire pit and the faint green sweetness of forest moss.
A single low burning flame cast long shadows across the woven walls. Outside, the village had gone quiet—elders and warriors from both clans keeping respectful distance, as if their silence could bless what was about to happen.
Neteyam stood on the far side of the sleeping mats. His hands moved with deliberate calm as he loosened the ties of his loincloth, letting the fabric fall away. He was already half hard from nerves and thought of having sex for the first time – even if it’s not how he imagined –, his cock heavy between his thighs. He did not look at you with desire. He simply breathed once, steadying himself, then stepped closer.
You removed your own coverings without flourish—beaded top first, then the woven skirt—folding each piece neatly beside the mat the way you had been taught to treat important things.
The cool night air brushed your bare skin. You lay back on the thick layered blankets, knees parting just enough, arms resting at your sides. Your tail lay still. Your eyes fixed on the dark weave of the roof above.
Neteyam knelt between your spread thighs. For a moment he simply looked at your body like a warrior checking his weapon before battle. He reached for the small jar of oil the healers had left, coating his fingers efficiently.
He pressed one slick finger inside you, then two, working them in and out with careful, measured strokes. The stretch was already uncomfortable. Your jaw tightened. You stared harder at the roof and breathed through your nose.
When he deemed it enough, he wiped his hand on a cloth and positioned himself. The broad head of his cock nudged against your entrance. He paused only long enough to murmur, voice low and professional, “I will go slowly.”
You gave one small nod.
He pushed forward.
The burn was immediate and sharp. Your body resisted the thick length forcing its way in, the stretch bordering on too much. A faint tremor ran through your thighs. You clenched your jaw harder, teeth grinding, refusing to let even a single sound escape. Neteyam’s breath hitched once—tight control—but he kept moving, sinking deeper inch by inch until his hips met yours and he was fully seated.
For a few seconds he stayed still, letting you adjust. His arms braced on either side of your head, muscles tense. Then he began to move.
It was mechanical. Steady. Nothing more. His cock slid out almost to the tip, then pushed back in with the same even rhythm—again, and again, and again. The wet sound of skin meeting skin filled the quiet marui. There were no kisses, no whispered words, no hands exploring your body. His hips worked with purpose, focused only on finishing what duty required. Your own body felt nothing but the continuous burn of being opened and the faint ache building deeper inside.
“Breathe,” he said once, voice rough but still controlled, when he noticed your chest had gone tight.
You obeyed. In. Out. Eyes never leaving the roof then they flicked to his just to noticed that his eyes are tightly shut, like your body is the most disgusting thing.
His pace quickened slightly near the end—short, practical thrusts. His breathing grew heavier, more strained. Then, with a quiet, restrained exhale, he pushed deep one final time and came. You felt the warm pulse of his release inside you, the subtle twitch of his cock as he emptied himself.
He stayed buried for only a few seconds before carefully pulling out. The sudden emptiness made you clench involuntarily around nothing. A small trickle of his seed mixed with the oil leaked onto the mat beneath you. Neteyam reached for a clean cloth, wiping you gently but efficiently between the legs, then cleaning himself.
When he was done, he lay down on the far side of the wide sleeping mat, back turned to you. The space between your bodies felt wider than the forest itself. Your tails did not brush. His breathing slowly evened out. Yours did too.
Neither of you spoke.
You stared at the roof a while longer, the burn between your legs slowly fading into a dull throb, then rolled onto your side facing away from him. Back to back. The fire pit crackled once and settled. Outside, a night insect chirred. Inside, only silence.
Duty was done.
Weeks became months. The alliance held by threads. You lived in the shared marui near the forest’s edge—stone lined fire pit on your side, forest weaves on his. You spoke little. You left the marui only when necessary.
Every night the same ritual: you cooked for him—roasted hexapede with ash seasoned herbs you gathered in secret. You cleaned the marui, mended his weapons, kept the fire steady. Then, when the village slept, he would come to you. He would position you on your back, enter you with the same careful but distant rhythm—his cock pushing in, pulling out, hips working until he finished with a quiet exhale. You lay still, enduring the stretch, feeling nothing but the ache of duty. He would roll away immediately. You slept back to back, tails not even brushing, not a single touch from either of you.
At first it was obvious: you did not enjoy each other’s presence. He returned from patrols tired and tense; you stayed silent, eyes on your tasks. He tried, in small ways, to help you fit in—showing you which forest herbs soothed the stomach after your fire meals, inviting you to watch young hunters train from the marui entrance. You rarely went. The Omatikaya whispers followed you anyway.
“She is barren,” they muttered when you passed. “Varang’s daughter cannot even give the Sully line an heir. Useless ash blood.” Neytiri’s gaze lingered longest, disappointed. Jake tried to quiet them, but the resentment grew.
Your own Ash people were changing too. Warriors arrived in small groups, merging with Omatikaya and Metkayina outposts. Joint patrols, shared fires, volcanic glass traded for woven nets. Varang sent word: “The clans become one fire. Do not fail us.” You nodded to the messenger and kept cooking.
Neteyam never complained. He would sit by the fire after long days and say quietly, “The stew is good tonight.” Or he would leave a smooth river stone beside your sleeping mat—something warm from the day’s sun. You accepted it without comment. But slowly, the days stacked.
One evening he returned with a shallow cut on his arm from a skirmish. You cleaned it without being asked, your fingers steady on his skin. He watched you. “You do not have to stay inside every day,” he said softly. “The village is safer with you in it.” You met his eyes for a moment, then looked away. “It is better here.”
Another night, a storm howled. You rose to secure the marui flaps against the wind. Neteyam helped without a word. When lightning flashed, he saw the faint tremor in your hands—memories of your volcanic home. He did not reach for you, but he said, “The fire you keep lit keeps the rain from feeling so cold.” It was the first time you felt something close to not dislike.
Weeks later, an Ash scout arrived with news of a merged training ground. You went once, at Neteyam’s quiet request, and demonstrated a fire enhanced trap.
The Omatikaya warriors watched warily, but one young hunter thanked you when it worked. You returned home and cooked in silence, but that night, when the mechanical mating ended, Neteyam lingered a second longer before rolling away.
He came to you after the meal, it’s not out of the normal for him to come to you for sex every week, you really needed to give him a child, but you couldn’t.
So he tired and tried and tried. And he won’t stop, not until his duty is done.
You lay back, legs parted. He prepared you with the same clinical efficiency, then entered you in that familiar rhythm of his cock sliding in and out in steady, purposeful strokes.
You endured the stretch in silence, jaw tight, eyes on the roof once more.
This time, as his hips moved, something in his breathing changed. His thrusts grew slightly deeper, a little less controlled. His cock pushed in and out with the same steady motion, but his body tensed more with each stroke.
Then, without warning, a deep, broken moan tore from his throat as his hips jerked forward. He stopped for a moment, buried to the hilt, cock pulsing hard inside you. The sound vibrated against your shoulder where his face had dropped. He deepened himself even further with a slow push, as if chasing the last of the sensation. Then he started moving again with shallow, trembling rolls of his hips, dragging it out.
But suddenly he stopped in his tracks.
His whole body went rigid. A harsh breath left him. He pulled out quickly — almost too quickly — his still hard cock slipping free with a wet sound. A thick trail of his release followed, leaking down your thigh.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice strained and rough with lingering pleasure and sudden regret. He hovered above you, golden eyes wide, one hand braced beside your head. “I didn’t mean to… lose control like that. I should have pulled out sooner. I’m sorry.”
You lay there, chest still rising and falling, the stretch and sudden emptiness lingering between your legs. For a long moment neither of you moved. Then Neteyam slowly lowered himself to his side of the mat and turned his back to you.
You rolled away as always. Back to back. Yet the space between you felt fractionally smaller that night, the silence a little less heavy.
Small interactions piled like kindling.
He taught you the names of forest fruits that grew near the marui. You showed him how to sharpen blades with volcanic grit so they never dulled. He defended you once when an elder called you “barren weight.” His voice stayed calm: “She keeps this home. She keeps me fed. That is not nothing.” You heard it from inside the marui and felt a strange warmth in your chest.
You began leaving the marui more—short walks to gather herbs, standing at the edge of training fields. The clan’s whispers quieted when you quietly warned a patrol of an RDA drone using an Ash smoke signal you taught them. One mother whose child you had quietly mended after a fall brought you woven fabric for the marui. “You are trying,” she said. Acceptance crept in, slow as dawn.
You grew more comfortable. The forest no longer felt like enemy territory. You smiled—small, barely there—when Neteyam returned and the stew was ready exactly as he liked it. He noticed. His shoulders eased around you.
Months turned. The sex nights continued—awkward, distant, bodies performing duty. But the days changed them.
One afternoon he returned early from patrol and found you humming—an old Ash fire song—while stirring the pot. He paused in the doorway, watching. When you turned, he said, “That song… it sounds like home for you.” You nodded once. He sat and listened until it ended. For the first time, you did not mind his presence.
Another day, a joint Ash-Omatikaya hunt brought back more meat than expected. You helped prepare it for the village feast outside your marui. Neteyam stood beside you, shoulder brushing yours as you worked. No words. But when the clan ate and someone praised the seasoning you had added, his tail flicked once against yours—accidental, yet neither pulled away.
The resentment from the clan had faded. They saw you now: the quiet woman who protected their patrols, who fed their future Olo’eyktan, who merged her fire with their forest without complaint. Neytiri even nodded to you once in passing.
One night, after a long successful raid against the RDA, something shifted.
Neteyam returned with ash on his skin from the battlefield. You had waited with food and clean cloths. He let you wipe the ash away, your hands moving slower than usual. His breath caught when your fingers brushed his queue.
“May I kiss you?” he asked, voice rough.
You met his eyes. For the first time, you answered with more than duty. You leaned in.
The kiss was hesitant, then deep. His hands—usually so careful and distant—traced your body with wonder: palms sliding over your breasts, thumbs circling sensitive peaks until you gasped.
“This is okay?” He whispered against your lips.
You couldn’t give anything but a small nod as you feel yourself for the first time getting wet.
He laid you down gently on the mats, kissing down your neck, your collarbone, the sensitive skin along your queue.
He lingered there, lips brushing the glowing spots where your queue met your scalp, sending sparks down your spine.
His breath was warm against your skin as he moved lower, pressing open mouthed kisses along the curve of your shoulder, then down to the soft swell of your breast.
He took one nipple into his mouth, tongue swirling slowly, sucking gently until your back arched and a soft sound left your throat. His hand cupped the other breast, kneading with careful reverence, thumb stroking in time with his tongue.
He continued downward, kissing over the slight curve of your belly, then lower still. His large hands gently parted your thighs, palms smoothing along the sensitive inner skin.
He looked up at you once, golden eyes dark with something new and deep, silently asking permission.
When you didn’t pull away, he leaned in and pressed a slow, reverent kiss right at your core. His tongue followed—warm, tentative at first, then more confident as he tasted you, licking long stripes before focusing on the sensitive bundle of nerves that made your hips twitch.
One of his fingers circled your entrance, then slid inside, curling gently while his mouth continued its slow worship. He added a second finger, stretching you carefully, scissoring them in a steady rhythm that built a warm, aching pressure low in your belly.
Your hands found his braids, fingers tightening as quiet moans slipped from you. He hummed against your skin, the vibration sending fresh waves of pleasure through you. He kept going until your thighs trembled around his shoulders and your breathing turned ragged—only then did he pull back, lips glistening, eyes locked on yours with quiet awe.
He moved up your body again, kissing every inch he had touched, until his face hovered above yours. His cock rested heavy and hot against your inner thigh, twitching with need. Only then did he position himself at your entrance.
When he finally pushed inside, it was slow, eyes locked on yours the entire time. No awkward rhythm. Just the warm, full stretch of him and the way his hips rolled with quiet purpose.
You moaned—quiet, breathless, but real. He answered with a low sound of his own, the first time you had ever heard him like that, and the first time he has ever heard you like that.
He touched you where you needed—fingers finding the spot that made your thighs tremble, whispering, “Let me feel you.” Your tail curled tight under you.
You moved together, bodies learning a new language. Pleasure built slowly, steadily, until it crested.
When you came, it was with a shuddering cry you had never allowed before—your walls tightening around him, fingers digging into his shoulders.
Neteyam followed moments later..
A deep, broken moan tore from his throat as his hips jerked forward. He kept his eyes locked on yours the whole time, golden gaze burning into you even as his body shuddered. He didn’t stop. Instead he leaned down and kissed you hard, tongue sliding against yours while he stayed buried deep, pulsing inside you. The kiss turned slower, deeper, as the aftershocks rolled through both of you. He pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, breathing the same air, eyes never leaving yours.
“I don’t want to stop,” he whispered against your lips.
You answered by pulling him back into another kiss.
The night stretched on.
He stayed inside you through the first afterglow, rocking slowly until he hardened again. Then he gently pulled out, sat back against the woven wall of the marui, and guided your head down with a reverent hand in your braids. “Please,” he breathed.
You took him into your mouth for the first time—tentative at first, then growing bolder as his low groans filled the space. He kept eye contact the entire time, one hand cupping your cheek while the other stroked your queue. When he felt close he pulled back just enough to jerk himself with quick strokes, spilling thick ropes across your tongue with a choked moan, watching you swallow every drop while he kissed you immediately after, tasting himself on your lips.
He laid you down again and slid between your thighs, cock gliding along the slick seam of your sex without entering, fucking the soft press of your thighs while he kissed you breathless. His hands held your hips steady, eyes locked, until he came again, painting your stomach and breasts with warm stripes.
Later he had you on your hands and knees, his hands gripping your hips as he took you from behind. You pushed back against him, moaning into the mats while he leaned over you, one arm wrapped around your waist, lips on your shoulder, whispering your name.
He came deep inside you that time, hips stuttering, but still didn’t stop—simply flipped you onto your back, hooked your legs over his shoulders, and kept going.
He held you completely in the last rounds—lifting you into his lap, arms wrapped around your back, your legs locked around his waist as he thrust up into you. Your bodies pressed flush together, skin slick with sweat and release, mouths never leaving each other. Eye contact was constant now—every thrust, every roll of his hips, every shared moan passed between your locked gazes. He kissed you through your third orgasm, swallowing your cries, then followed with a long, shuddering groan of his own, spilling inside you once more.
The small fire in the pit had burned low hours ago. Pale dawn light filtered through the marui flaps by the time you both finally collapsed, bodies tangled and exhausted.
Neteyam stayed inside you for the last slow, lazy rocks, forehead pressed to yours, eyes half lidded but still holding yours.
His hands stroked your back, your queue, every inch he could reach while soft kisses pressed to your lips, your cheeks, the tip of your nose.
He finally slipped free and pulled you against his chest, arms wrapped around you like he never planned to let go. Your tails twined together. His heartbeat thumped steady under your ear.
“I never knew it could feel like this,” he murmured into your hair, voice hoarse from the long night.
You didn’t speak. You simply pressed a slow kiss to the center of his chest and let yourself stay there, warm and held, the first true light of morning painting the marui walls around the two of you.
Weeks later, the sickness came in the mornings.
The healers confirmed it. You were finally pregnant.
Neteyam’s hand rested on your belly that night, forehead pressed to yours. The clan celebrated—Ash fire drums mixing with Omatikaya songs. But inside the marui, it was just the two of you.
“You gave us this,” he whispered. “Are you ready to be a mother.” He whispers as he kisses his creation in your belly.
You threaded your fingers through his braids and spoke the most words you had ever given him:
“And you taught me the forest could hold fire without burning it away.”
The alliance was no longer fragile. The clans had merged—fire and forest, ash and leaf—stronger than before.
And in the marui that finally felt like home, two once distant mates held each other, the child between them proof that slow, quiet love could grow even from the hardest stone.
A little rocky at first but it got better … hopefully!
Hi, I was the anon from a bit ago that mentioned analyzing the Dream Hunt from Chapter 22. Here’s my analysis. Sorry it’s so long. I tried to edit this to the best of my abilities, so I apologize if there are any mistakes. I hope I wasn’t too eccentric with my ramblings. I feel passionate about this fic and I had to say something. Props to the author.
Dream Hunt analysis
To preface: I understand that it’s used to find one's “spirit animal,” but I think it’s also a vision for an impending event. Seeing as Jake basically saw Hometree getting destroyed during his.
I think this Dream Hunt provides more than just a “spirit animal” to Pumpkin. It also foreshadows what her life will be/has been. Also, I have not read any draft, or have any knowledge on the supposed “The Event.” I am not in the discord server. I will only be analyzing what has been written in the story. I know some future scenes/plots have been mentioned in asks, so I think some of my theories are incorrect because of that. However, in my defense, that has not been written yet, and could be subject to change.
I’m mostly analyzing this from the dream hunt itself. I know that Pumpkin has a conversation with Mo’at about it, in which they both have their own interpretations of it. Then Mo’at tells Neytiri about it, and there’s opinions there. Then Neytiri later reflects on THIS conversation and has more thoughts. So, therein my decision to just analyze the dream hunt. I could go further and pull reference from later parts in the story but I think that would be too long. Ok, let’s start.
The river: the first sentence states that Pumpkin is “walk[ing] along the edge of the river.” I believe the choice or words here already, are necessary to highlight. The river itself is called “the river” instead of ‘a river.’ The way in which the river is referred signifies its importance. But, what is the importance? Perhaps it is a river that has already been mentioned. IIs it the river her and her siblings travel to in chapter 6? Where they are found by a thanator and she distracts it as bait? Is it the river she and her friends jump into during The Storm in chapter 7? It is never stated if they are the same river or not. Could this be a river that has not been mentioned at the time of the Dream Hunt? Maybe it is the river that Neytiri, Jake, and Spider visit in AFAA? It’s not stated but i believe this river is of significance.
The direction in which the river is flowing is also not mentioned. Is Pumpkin walking upstream, or downstream? Is the river rushing rapidly, or a calm stream? Is the riverbank overflowing, or is it in the midst of a drought? Is the river flowing at all? I personally interpret Pumpkin as walking upstream, of a reasonably flowing river. Since she is able to somewhat see her reflection, mentioned later on.
Now what does the river represent? It could be many things. From the passage of time, changing emotions, the forest itself etc. In this context, I believe it represents Pumpkin’s lifecycle. The top of the river being her start, birth. The end; her death. It is not stated whether she is in proximity to the beginning or end of the river. This leads me to believe she is walking along the middle. Thus, despite being considered an adult for completing her dream hunt by the Omatikaya and “be[ing] born again,” she is in the middle of her life.
Since I believe she is walking upstream, her dream hunt/ subconscious uses her past in order to show her future/animal. I think she is walking upstream since her animal is the thanator and it is not mentioned nearly as much after her vision in comparison to her past. Her being in the middle of her life also shows her path isn’t necessarily long. She may not live long if she continues to make risky decisions that sacrifice her safety. She has a martyr complex, and even goes as far to tell Lo’ak in chapter 49 (on A03) that she “wouldn’t be able to handle it if all those years of training were for nothing…if I failed at the one thing I was taught to d[o]— so I step in front of you because I don't want to live with that kind of failure.” She’s willing to die for the sake of her family.
The environment: Pumpkin describes the environment around her as “washed of color, not dark, not empty, just… grey. The water moved without sound. The leaves did not stir. Even the air felt dull, heavy, as though it could no longer remember how to carry warmth.” I have 3 possible explanations as to why this is.
1: the RDA. In A:FOP, the environment surrounding RDA basses, outposts, and the likes are poisoned. The flora and fauna are polluted. At the time of the dream hunt, Pumpkin was already aware that the RDA were coming. She had been training with Jake, so the assumption is that she had the knowledge of how the RDA is poisonous (literally and figuratively). However, there is no mention of fog in the air, so I am not inclined to believe that is the cause of the grey.
2: the Mangkwan. I’m also less inclined to say it’s a result of them, but it’s possible. At this point in the story, there has been no mention of them. As of me writing this (chapter 49) they have not been mentioned directly (if my memory serves me correctly). Obviously, there will eventually be contact between Pumpkin and the Mangkwan. I’m not sure if this dream hunt is supposed to represent the first time the Sully kids confront them in the forest or a different event. I don’t know if Pumpkin will be with the kids, Jake, Neytiri, or on her own when the Mangkwan attack the wind traders. This is another phenomenon in A:FOP FTA where as the Mangkwan attack the Kinglor forest, it becomes destroyed. I honestly don’t believe this foreshadows meeting the Mangkwan as there is no mention of associations with them. Pumpkin also does not see smoke, flames, or ash in the air. She doesn’t smell anything (smoke, burning). She also doesn’t hear the water flowing or the forest in general, much less any fire cracking or Mangkwan adjacent sounds. She also does not hear any wildlife so this could mean that they have been killed/ drawn away by the Mangkwan (or RDA as mentioned previously).
3: lack of faith. Perhaps the forest being grayed out represents Pumpkins lack of faith in Eywa. She therefore doesn’t see the forest as this greater network and is shut out from its beauty, visually. This could be from a multitude of explanations. She could be like Jake, and have doubts in her faith after Neteyam dies. Or be set around the time of scorched earth (killing the 5k+ RDA), with her doubts stemming from her dishonor/disharmony.
Ultimately, the lack of “life” in the forest signifies…something. It could even represent a theory I discuss later regarding her eyes.I’m not as confident in a conclusion here as compared to the river and other things (if this stuff even matters in comparison to the thanator, which I will get to eventually).
Initial feelings: Pumpkin expresses feeling “Her chest ach[e] with absence.” This is the first physical description of any feeling. There is no prior mention of feeling a cold breeze or heat (from the fires of the Mangkwan that I DON’T BELIEVE THIS VISION FORESHADOWS). She continues to describe feeling something missing, and fails to name what.
It could be the loss of Nateyam. She could again, be like Jake (and Lo’ak) and dissociate as a result of his death. She then describes feeling anger. Again, this could be a result of the grief of losing Neteyam.
She then describes feeling anger. She could parallel Neytiri and be overcome with anger at the initial loss from losing him and go on a killing spree on the boat. However, I don’t think this foreshadows the exact moments after his death on the ship, since I think the environment would showcase the ocean or maybe even the metal of the ship. She also feels uncomfortable with the rage, but is perhaps exclusively motivated by it, or blinded by it. Since it’s described as “simmer[ing] low” I think her grief over Neteyam's death will start as dissociation and then turn to rage slowly. That’s assuming the dream hunt is using his death as a catalyst towards the supposed “event” everyone keeps talking about.
I’ve seen “the event” be referred to as a catalyst for something else? Which makes me think that it isn’t the end of the book, or if it is,it’s not the end of the whole story and there will be a sequel? I honestly don’t know.
Initial look into the river (blurred eyes): I think Pumpkin looks at herself to try and discover why she has the feelings she does. Instead she’s met with blurry eyes and blood that isn’t hers. Also, she never mentions looking away from the water and looking down at her body/hands to see if there’s blood on them, so I assume it’s only when she looks at the river she sees it? She says she looked closer for wounds, but I’m assuming that’s through her reflections in the water? Maybe I’m reading it wrong. Her blurry eyes I think of course represent her losing one of her eyes and only seeing blurry objects out of it.
BUT, the fact BOTH her eyes are blurry in the water perhaps foreshadows that “the event” will be her losing her other eye. Thus, being why the environment around her is greyed out in her vision. OR, it represents her losing her faith and she does not pass/look through the Eye of Eywa. OR, perhaps it has to do with Varang and Pumpkin meeting. (I want to talk about her faith/ Varang in a later part).
Leaving the river/ coming back: I think this represents the Sully family and herself leaving the Omatikaya and seeking refuge with the Metkiyina. But she comes back/ doesn't leave for long. Maybe this is “the event.” Her family and brother lay/stay with the Metkiyina while she returns to the Omatikaya (I don’t think this is the event, but her creating her own life away from her family is important, even if it means not seeing Jake all the time. Her relationship with her father is cute but it borders on codependent).
Maybe she is exiled (like Jake in the 1st movie) or puts herself in a self-imposed exile (like Lo’ak’s journey to find Payakan). But she eventually returns. This is also the only time she hears any sort of noise which is “heavy scraping against the earth.” It’s herself/ her claws that drag her back. Maybe it’s her guilt? The duty she feels bound to by her family (ie “sullys stuck together”)? Obviously the claw marks are the thanator.
The thanator: there’s a lot to say here, and I’m not sure where to start. The thanator is everywhere in Pumpkin's life up to this point. In chapter 5, when she goes far into the forest alone for the first time for the archers' thicket, and it lets her go. A warning to not be so careless with her own life. In chapter 6, she goes to a river and baits a thanator into chasing her, to save her siblings. Her self-sacrificing tendencies brush closer to death this time in order to save others. Again, during The Storm in chapter 7, she and her friends get chased into a river. In chapter 9, she almost becomes disabled in the same way Jake did because of the thanator attack. In chapter 14 her first hunt in a thanator. It only makes sense that her spirit animal is a thanator.
Side note: In the first movie, when Eywa hears Jake’s ask for help, she sends the animals of the forest to fight back. We’ve seen the scene where a thanator submits to Neytiri, and lets her make tsaheylu. Could Pumpkin eventually let Neytiri see everything she went through? Her thought behind every action she took? Could it be Neytiri that brings Pumpkin back to her faith? Despite the grief that comes with the thanator, we see it and both Pumpkin will find there is a time when it knows to rein it in. I think this is evidenced by Pumpkin’s first encounter in chapter five when the forest (and the thanator) let her go.
There is never a mention of a physical thanator again after this as of Chapter 49. I checked. The Dream Hunt itself was mentioned during the "scorched earth” arc less than five times. I think Pumpkin’s first hunt being a thanator is mentioned more than any of it (by Lo’ak, enviously of course). It’s also used in typical ways of Na’vi saying (comparing something to a thanator, “poking the thanator,” instead of “poking the bear”). By “becoming” and “walking” the path of the thanator it drove away any physical manifestations of the actual animal (LOL).
The body (and Pumpkin vs Varang): So, the most poignant answer as to who the body is, is Varang. However, I WANT this to be a red herring so bad. I think alternatively, the body could represent Pumpkin’s past self. The body is dragged through the river, which parallels the scene in AFAA where Neytiri is washing the Mangkwan paint off in the river. Maybe Pumpkin is also there, and helps Neytiri save Jake (and Spider). But I have seen author allude to Pumpkin being captured alongside Jake in tumblr asks so…probabaly not. But, this would explain why there is Mangkwan paint. Or, perhaps it’s a different scene on its own, inspired by Neytiri’s change of heart. But, the body has a description of “ritual cuts,” which I can’t imagine Pumpkin having, so it’s most likely Varang or some other Mangkwan.
I think Pumpkin and Varang could have their own interesting connections. They both make deathly decisions based on their traumas. Both do dishonorable acts for what they believe to be for the greater good. Pumpkin killed 5226 RDA (I still can’t figure out if this number has any significance or not) and Varang killed her family/rejected Eywa to lead her people. Pumpkin might view Varang as what she could become if she lets her grief/hate/revenge guide her.
Pumpkin losing her eye and Varang having the eye tattoo must have some sort of connection? If Pumpkin cannot see through the Eye of Eywa (losing her faith) then maybe she will see through Varang’s eye (tattoo). Maybe “the event” is Pumpkin almost joining Varang due to her doubt in Eywa. HOWEVER, I don’t think Pumpkin would join Varang, since she teams up with the RDA. Maybe there’s an initial consideration of a sort of “I see you” through their similar doubt/trauma. Varange could utilize the “strong heart” phrase against her (Neytiri’s always refers to Pumpkin as “her heart”). Varange might see the insecurity Pumpkin has with her relationship with her mom. But, I think Pumpkin would ultimately see through Varang’s manipulation. Sure, Varang is powerful amongst her clan as the sole leader, and is quick to sacrifice her people for her own sake. Varang fears death (see her reaction to Neytiri breaking in and Kiri’s confrontation). Pumpkin does not. She talks about it with Lo’ak how despite getting shot in the head, she’s pretty much willing to do it again for her family’s sake. Or, god forbid there is the risk of getting captured again.
In the end I almost think meeting Varang would cause Pumpkin to lose any doubt she has in Eywa. Seeing who Varang is as a result of trauma would cause Pumpkin to restore her own faith. Also, if she learn’s/ see’s what Kiri is and is capable of, that would restore her faith.
The feelings (reprise): Pumpkin talks about a craving for blood and feeling hollow. She again, is angry. The feelings are described as being wrong, but she could understand where they come from. It scares her, and ultimately is a path I don’t think she wants to follow, but now feels obligated to. Jake trained her with intentions of teaching her how to defend herself. While Pumpkin did learn marine combat skills, she also developed a martyr complex. That’s part of the reason why despite her being an adult and starting her own life, she doesn’t. She’s waiting for the right moment to sacrifice herself. Dying is easy, living is harder (ok Hamilton, I’m going crazy at this point I am reaching so hard).
In defense of the thanator: the general consensus is that the thanator is a violent animal, whose only purpose is to crave blood. That it is a necessary evil in the cycle of life on Pandora. It is the the top of the (land) food chain. Where there is the humble hexapede, grazing on leaves, the bloodthirsty beast that is the thanator will attack. Don’t forget their deranged counterparts, the feral thanator’s. Their kuru cut, beaten, and starved. Somehow more bloodthirsty than their initial states. Is that what is to become of Pumpkin?
I don’t think so. As I said before, the thanator knows when to open its heart and be vulnerable. It’s not a monster, it’s an animal in nature. Some Na’vi clans view it as their token animal and respect it. So’lek mention in A:FOP FTA that thanator’s even enjoy music. They have a connection to the forest. Neytiri is able to bond and tame “the beast.” It probably has it’s own culture and customs. It is merely a product of its environment, such as Pumpkin. It is still a child of Eywa.
Note: Hii again,this is the second part,thank you so much for the suport in the first part. Also, English is not my first language, so I’m really sorry if something sounds awkward or confusing sometimes. I’m trying my best and I really hope you like this part too!!
Writing this part was actually really difficult for me because I had a whole draft explaining what happened during all those years, but honestly i felt like it was too long and kind of boring to read. I didn’t want the story to lose the emotional tension or feel too heavy with context, so I decided to go with this version instead and slowly reveal things through flashbacks, memories, conversations and little details along the story.I’m still figuring out how to balance storytelling and context since this is literally my first time writing something,so please be patient with me.
If you would still like the chapter or something with more detailed backstory because I feel that without the context, it's not very clear why she stayed?? Still i will add it on the story dont worry,let me know because I genuinely can’t decide what would work better ;(
Summary: Years ago, an Omatikaya girl disappeared after trying to help a dying clan no one would save, whats supose to be one night away turned into years lost among the ash clan.
Everyone belived she was dead especially the boy she was once promised to, the boy who spent years mouring her.
But she survived, raised among the Mangkwan she become someone unrecognizable, no longer an Omatikaya but never truly one of the Ash people neither.
But one day the sully family crosses paths again with the girl.As war begins, old memories resurface and buried feelings return, two people once destined for each other falling in love again.
At first,she counted the days.
Then the weeks.
The seasons have passed on her, life within the Mangkwan became something imposible to escape. Ash covered her skin so often it slowly stopped feeling foreign.
She have learned their ways.How to survive,how to be one of them,how they think, how they move,and how to kill.
The woman who had spared her life was named Veyra and her son, Harront, a boy only a few years older than the little girl herself, they were the closest thing she had to a family there.
“You must become useful” thats what the elder told her whenever the girl hesitated or do something wrong, after all, she have the eyes of the tshaik waiting to decide whether saving her had been a mistake.
Several times during her first months, she tried to leave, and several times the forest nearly swallowed her whole before Veyra dragged her back again.
Eventually, the excuses became easier to believe.Then harder to question.
And somewhere along the years, the fear of returning home became greater than the fear of staying.
She no longer recognize the girl she used to be,now blood run through her hands,she had become one of them, and Eywa had begun feeling distant in a place where prayers turned to ash before reaching her.
Sometimes she still tried.
Still whispered small prayers,desires and hope before sleeping, but they drifted away on the breeze, and without hope of being heard, she stopped believing.
And over time without ever truly noticing when it happened she was one of the people.
•✦───────────•✧
Meanwhile, where the flowers bloom and the rivers flow in the vast forest, Neteyam, in the first months and years, kept looking for her after everyone else stopped.
At first the clan searched for the girl,then just her family and eventually just him.
The elders have accept it,he never do.
He searched through the forests where they once played with his brothers, near the rivers she used to run laughing with him, the spots the girl loved, the trees they used to climb where they share the same scar near the collarbone,even beyond the forest he knew.
Years passed, yet somehow he continued seeing her everywhere.
In the trees.
He swear some times he could her her in the breeze, and sometimes saw her footprints on the ground where they used to walk.
He used to see her face everywhere, but now she was gone.
Through wading the grass, the years passed, now he was 18 and the feeling never went away.
It was no longer sharp it have become a memory he carried gently, quietly.
Because even after all those years some part of him still hoped she would come back.
So it hurt.
When he had to leave the place where he had grown up, to the Metkayina clans for uturu.
Leaving his people, his home, and as if he were abandoning the last pieces of her that where still left within the forest.
•✦───────────•✧
The time with the Metkayina give him a relief,his family was safe.
He had learned their ways and adapted, as he always did.
Yet peace never trurly last, and he have to fight again in the war.
But after it, several peaceful months passed before the arrival of the Tlalim clan.
Where he finally would return to his home alongside his family.
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