Oel Ngati Kameie @pinkpeonyabyss - Tumblr Blog

Ashes in the Sea Chapter 7

Jake Sully x f Avatar!reader x Neytiri

Content Warnings- Violence, Gore, Torture, Illusions to Suicide, Reader's Mental Health isn't goodAttempted Assault, Character Death. This chapter gets pretty dark, so please take care while reading.

Chapter Summary- The Calf Communion is meant to be a time to celebrate. But this year's communion will be a time for war, and maybe a time for justice.

wc- 13.6k

Previous Chapter

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Time seems to stop when you see the knife in Jake’s hand move to slit Spider’s throat. You collapse to your knees when you see Jake’s figure make a stabbing motion before kneeling down to hold what you can only assume is Spider’s corpse.

How could he?

Spider is like your child. And he just killed him. Didn’t even have the courage to discuss it with you. He obviously discussed it with Neytiri, probably long before this incident. So why didn’t he talk to you, too? Are you not trustworthy?

Who are you kidding? You know you’re not.

You’re a liar.

A cheater.

He knows. He must know. That’s why he couldn’t trust you enough to tell you about this.

You don’t hear anything; you can’t hear anything besides the erratic and labored breaths you’re taking as you clutch onto your spasming heart.

“MaSyulang, get up, please.” You can barely hear Neytiri over the deafening ringing in your ears. You don’t even react as she pulls you over to the surely gruesome sight. “MaJake! MaJake!” Neytiri’s voice is breathless, not from physical exhaustion—no, she’s far too fit for that—but from mental and spiritual anguish.

When you both collapse in front of the pair, you keep your eyes shut. You couldn’t bear to see the corpse of a child you cared for lying in his killer’s arms. You can’t. What will you say to the children? To Lo’ak? To Kiri? Will you lie to them and spare Jake by telling them that the Mangkwan killed him? Or will you tell the truth and have them hate Jake for the rest of their lives?

Suddenly, you feel a hand reach out to your face and use its thumb to wipe away your tears. It’s small. Too small to belong to your mates. Too small to belong to a Na’vi.

Your eyes snap open to see Spider looking right at you, and a weak smile covers his face as Jake holds him protectively. Your body moves before you can even think, and you pull Spider into a protective embrace. You aren’t able to say anything; you just keep holding onto him.

He’s alive!

Neytiri rustles beside you and lifts one of her hands to rest on Spider’s cheek. “I see you.” This gesture is deeply profound, coming from Neytiri. She’s always been distant towards the humans that remained on Pandora; you were her only exception. So seeing her accept the boy you’ve grown to care for over the years warms your heart. Although it quickly cools when you look at your husband.

How could he?

“Whatever happens, it won’t be this way,” Jake says, looking at Neytiri first and then at you.

“Then we will find another way.” Neytiri says resolutely.

Jake pulls Spider and Neytiri into his embrace, but when he tries to do the same to you, you dodge his touch. Instead, opting to glare at him. His ears fall flat, and an uncomfortable expression dawns on his face; he knows he was wrong.

“Baby, I—Look—” Jake tries to speak, but you raise your hand to him with your palm facing him, a typical Na’vi gesture for rejection. You’re furious right now, and you know that if he continues to speak, you will say something you’ll regret, although it’s obvious that he’s never had that concern.

“We should get going. There may be some stray Mangkwan trying to follow us. We’re in no shape to fight.” You say only to Neytiri, completely ignoring Jake. Neytiri nods in agreement, and you stand up alongside Spider and guide him to Sa’ata. You can feel Jake’s eyes burning holes in the back of your head, but you pay him no mind. The only way you’re able to feign sanity is by pretending like he doesn’t exist.

How could he? How could he do this to you? Ever since the RDA came back, he’s consistently put your thoughts and opinions on the back burner. He only consults Neytiri. He treats you like you don’t matter, despite all the sacrifices you’ve made. Unconsciously, one of your hands drifts to your abdomen.

The baby.

It should bring you joy, but you can’t muster that emotion. Every emotion is swirling in your body except happiness. You’re already a terrible mother. Neytiri was ecstatic each and every time she found out she was pregnant, so why can’t you? She had that maternal love instantly, and here you are defective and disgraced. You can’t do anything right.

You’re a failure.

A bad mom.

A bad wife.

A disgrace—No.

You cannot start down that rabbit hole, not again, not now. You’re pregnant, even though it’s early; you’re still very much pregnant. You can’t get stressed. Anxiety and high emotions will only cause problems, and you’ll feel worse if something happens to the baby because of you. Stay calm, you must stay calm. You must push down your emotions. You have to push them, deep, deep down.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Spider’s hesitant question startles you, and you realize that a lone tear is trailing down your eye. You quickly put on a brave face and blink the tear away.

“Yeah, I’m just happy that you’re okay.” It’s the truth, a half-truth, but still the truth.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The flight back to Awa’atlu is tense. Even though he’s right behind you, trying to make conversation, you ignore Jake as if he’s nothing more than an annoying bug buzzing by your ear.

“Mommy!” You hear the cries of your youngest as she runs up to you as you get off Sa’ata. A trail of fat, wet tears flows down her face as she does so. You immediately bend down to her level and scoop her up into a warm embrace. “I-I was so scared, sa’nu. Neteyam told me to stay strong—I tried, I really did, but I was still scared.”

You gently shush her and rub soothing circles across her back. “I’m sorry, ma’ite, I didn’t mean to scare you. You’ve been so brave.”

Your eyes scan over your other children, and your ears fall flat when you realize your youngest son isn’t there. “Lo’ak isn’t back yet?” There’s no point in your question; you already know the answer, especially when they both refuse to look you in the eye.

“Baby, we should meet with Tonowari and Ronal.” You continue to ignore your husband, instead deciding to focus on your kids, much to his displeasure. “Neteyam, take Spider and the girls and go back to the marui.” Being the obedient son he is, Neteyam quickly follows Jake’s order.

“C’mon, baby, we need to discuss what we’re going to do to protect the tulkun.”

You angrily stand up and glare at your husband. “Oh, so now you care to discuss things with me.”

“Don’t be like that, baby. You know I value your input.” Jake tries to reach for your hand, but you slap it away.

“You value my opinion? That’s the funniest shit I’ve heard you say in a while.” You scoff and the former olo’eyktan.

“MaSyulang, we do value—”

You raise your hand up to Neytiri, interrupting her mid-sentence. “I’m mad at you, too, Neytiri, and I’m not in the mood to listen to more lies. I’m going to bathe, and I want you both to leave me alone. I don’t care what you decide to do; it’s not like my opinion ever mattered.” You turn to find a nearby spring to wash off the grime from the previous night, but you feel a hand tightly grip your wrist.

“Baby, just come with us. You should be there.” You hate how sincere he’s sounding. You hate yourself even more for letting your heart soften just a little.

You shake him off. “Toruk Makto knows best.” You know it’s a low blow. You know how Jake feels about being Toruk Makto. You know the guilt and pain he carries because of that title. You know you shouldn’t have said that, but a part of you doesn’t care. You want to cause him to feel just a fraction of the pain he’s caused you.

Just ahead of you, you see the hulking form of the Olo’eyktan and his heavily pregnant wife quickly making their way to you. “Jakesully, I thought the demon ships carried you away. How did you return?” Tonowari asks.

“There’s no time for that. Brother, it pains my heart to say this, but there is going to be a massacre. The Sky People are coming to hunt the tulkun, all of them, during the calf communion.”

You see panic flicker in Ronal and Tonowari’s faces, but that’s quickly replaced with determination. “The pink skins bring nothing but death and destruction, but even this is a new low.” Ronal’s teeth grind against themselves as she seethes with rage. “To needlessly and excessively hunt during such a sacred time, I do not have the words to describe the depravity of the demons.”

Although Tonowari appears much more composed compared to Ronal, you don’t miss the slight tremors in his hand as he grips his staff. “How do we stop them, Jakesully?”

“Isn’t it obvious. Jake flies Toruk, and we gather the clans once more. Toruk Makto appears during times of Great Sorrow. This is a time of Great Sorrow.” You state bluntly.

At this point, it doesn’t matter if Jake doesn’t want to fly Toruk again or not; he must do it regardless. Jake grimaces at your statement while Tonowari nods in agreement.

“She is right. You must fly Great Toruk once more.” The olo’eyktan reaches out to firmly grasp Jake’s shoulder. “Where is Toruk, Jakesully?”

“I don’t know, but I have to find him quickly.”

“Connect to the Spirit Tree, Jake. The Great Mother will show you the way.” Neytiri says, resting her hand on Jake’s other shoulder. Your husband nods in agreement, and the trio goes off to the Spirit Tree, but not before Neytiri realizes that you’re not following. “Are you not coming, maSyulang?”

“Just go. Don’t worry about me.” Your tone comes off harsher than you intended; even Ronal is surprised as she raises a hairless brow. Neytiri looks a little hurt but decides not to push it and continues to the Spirit Tree.

Ronal continues to look at you with suspicion, like she can tell that something is wrong, but chooses not to say anything at the moment.

“Tsahìk, can you examine me?”

“What is the problem?”

You look around; there are too many people around, and you fear that you’re still within earshot of your mates even though they’re barely within eyesight.

“I would prefer to discuss this in private… please.” Ronal continues to look at you with suspicion but leads you to the healing marui nevertheless. When you reach the marui, Ronal gestures for you to sit on the woven mat.

“What is wrong with you?” Ronal asks bluntly. “What is so wrong with you that you want to be in private, away from your mates?”

You look around the mauri nervously, subconsciously biting your lip. Why is it so hard to say it now? Is it the fear of this feeling like reality? Who knows. But you have to get over it.

“Can you see if I’m pregnant?”

Ronal looks at you, surprised. “You've yet to be in this body for even a full cycle; what makes you think you’re with child?”

“I was told…last night.” You don’t have the courage to look at Ronal after your confession comes out meekly.

“I see…” Ronal trails off, unsure as to what to say exactly. “Well, I cannot verify if what the demons said is true. I’ve had plenty of overzealous couples come to me right after mating, asking about a pregnancy to know that it’d be too early to tell; only Eywa knows.”

You should’ve known better. Of course, it’d be too early to tell without the advanced scans and tests the RDA has. You already know the truth. So why does it matter whether Ronal confirms it or not?

Ronal picks up on your mood rather quickly. Although it’s not like your body language and face show anything besides worry and fear.

“Most mothers are excited when they find out they’re pregnant. You are not.” It’s not a question; it’s a statement.

“I’m just confused. I came to terms with never being pregnant since humans and Na’vi can’t have biological children together. I was okay with that. I have children whom I love more than anything in the world; it never mattered to me that they didn’t come from my womb.

“But now, after one morning, I’m pregnant. This is the worst time this could’ve happened. I’ve nearly died twice in less than a month, we’re on the brink of war with not only the RDA but a Na’vi clan as well, and worst of all, Jake's and my relationship has never been worse. I should be happy, but I’m not.”

Even though you’re not looking at her, you can feel Ronal’s eyes focusing on you; it’s making you feel a little exposed, and your tail curls around you as you try to close your body off. It’s like she’s looking right through you, all your fears and insecurities. It’s like she’s seeing you.

“I take it that your mates don’t know about this- the pregnancy or your fears?”

Your eyes widen in panic at the mention of your mates. “Please do tell them!” You blurt out.

“This isn’t something you should keep from your mates. They have a right to know.” Ronal’s tone is reminiscent of a mother scolding a petulant child.

“I will, just not right now.”

“I don’t think you understand how import—”

“It is you who doesn’t understand!” You take a moment to collect yourself. “Now is not the time to tell them. Besides the fact that we’re going to war, we agreed that Tuk would be our last kid.

“Not to mention that it’s still so early that anything could happen. Where I came from, women were miscarrying left and right to the point where the government had to step in so it didn’t lose too many workers.

“I could miscarry at any moment, and I couldn’t live with myself if they got happy about this pregnancy only for me to lose it. So please, let me wait for the right moment to tell them.”

The tsahìk looks like she wants to tell you off more but decides against it. “Is there anything else you need from me?”

You think about it. You’ll need some plants for when you ultimately see him again. You know your way around toxic and poisonous plants from your time with Mo’at, but that was the forest, and now you’re on an island. Who other than the tsahìk would know the local flora and all its possible uses?

“No.” Ultimately, you decide against asking her. She’s already suspicious of you, and there’s no way she won’t question you for wanting to get hold of poisonous plants. You can’t risk her telling Jake or Neytiri and having your plans fall apart. You doubt if they’d understand and support you in this endeavor.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

When Jake found out about Toruk’s location, it was all hands on deck. Everyone who could join did. Jake even managed to get in contact with some of the other Avatars at High Camp and ask them to meet at the rendezvous point with the Omatikaya warriors. All the children joined as well, much to Jake’s disapproval. All the children except one, Lo’ak.

As Jake climbs up the mountain, you can’t help but let your mind drift to your youngest son. Is he okay? Has he eaten? Did the other children find him? You want nothing more at the moment than to hug your son. You’ll hug him so tight that he’ll whine about being squished, and then you’ll scold him like never before because how could he worry you like that? Especially after Kiri told you about his attempt. You just want your son back.

The loud squack of Toruk breaks you out of your daydream. He truly lives up to his name—“Last Shadow”— as he glides down, blocking the sun so that the only thing you see is his shadow.

The Na’vi around you look up with astonished gazes plastered all over their faces, but you can’t blame them. Toruk Makto is one of the most important figures for the Na’vi; so to not only live during the time of Toruk Makto but to see him in action must be something so utterly profound for them.

You feel a small hand wrap around yours; you know it’s Tuk, and you just know that she’s grinning ear to ear to see her father ride the Great Toruk. “It’s Daddy!”

The debris that Toruk kicks up as he lands causes a few of the Na’vi to shield their eyes, but Neytiri simply closes her eyes and takes in the moment. She’s always loved Jake being Toruk Makto.

You feel the grip on your hand tighten once Toruk finally lands and lets out his last roar. Even though her father is riding this majestic creature, Tuk is still a child, and it’s only natural for her to be frightened by seeing a predator this large up close. To soothe your baby, you pick her up without even being asked, and hold her close. You know she’s in no danger, but calming her down hurts nobody.

“Toruk Makto!” Tonowari shouts before he kneels as a sign of respect. The other Na’vi quickly follow suit.

Jake gets uncomfortable with the gesture real quick. “Please stand up.”

Jake, Neytiri, Tonowari, Ronal, and Tarsem form a little circle while you stay away with the children. The pain of so easily being left out has dulled. You’ve always been the unimportant one.

“Go now to the clans within a day’s ride and tell them Toruk Makto calls to them.” Even from a distance, you can see and hear when Jake has to force himself to say those last five words. It’s obvious that his mind has drifted back to the battle that happened almost two decades ago. You know the guilt and sorrow he carries from being Toruk Makto. “And you tell them, the day has come.”

Without delay, the Na’vi split themselves into groups to find as many neighboring clans as they could. From the forest to the sea, all clans would be asked to join the battle. Everyone else has already left, and all that’s left is your little family of 7.

“Neytiri, Jake, you both should take the children to High Camp; the ikran have flown with too much weight on them for too long, so I’ll make my way back on my own.”

Neytiri scrunches her hairless brows in confusion at your suggestion. “No, it’s too dangerous, tìyawn.”

“We’re going to war tomorrow; it’s already dangerous!” You counter.

“Us going to war is exactly why you shouldn’t be wandering around the forest alone.” Jake’s comment causes you to roll your eyes.

“I’m not some helpless child. I know how to navigate the forest. I’ve done it for over a decade; I can do it again.” Neytiri tries to grab your hand as you speak, but you avoid her touch. The action clearly hurts her, so you have to harden your heart to pay her no mind.

“Baby, you’re our wife; we can’t just let you put yourself in unnecessary danger.”

You glare at Jake, and you feel your fingernails dig into your palms. You want to yell at him, and you almost do, but then you remember that your children are sitting on rocks not too far from you. You won’t cause a scene, not in front of them.

“You are lucky the children are here, or else I’d tear you a new one.” You hiss at your husband. In the end, you end up on Sa’ata with Neytiri, Tuk, and Neteyam.

“Ma’itan, how is your wound?” You ask Neteyam after gazing at his bandaged skin for a while. Mo’at will definitely be able to treat him better once you reach High Camp.

“It’s still itchy, but not as much as before.” Your eldest answers honestly.

“I’m sure your grandmother will be able to make something to help you.”

For the duration of the short flight, you make small talk with your children. You avoid talking to Neytiri. You hope the kids don’t notice the tension in your marriage, but your children are sometimes too smart for their own good, so it’s likely that they’ve picked up on the tension. But thankfully, neither one of them asks about it, and you make it to High Camp with no problems.

“Grandmother!” You hear the excited little voice of Tuk as she immediately runs to her grandmother the second you help her off of Sa’ata. The other children follow suit.

“You both should hurry to the other clans. There isn’t much time.” You say flatly, avoiding eye contact. “Fly safe.” Even if you’re upset with them, you still wish them well, but you don’t give them time to respond before walking off to Mo’at and the children.

When you make your way to your mother-in-law, you greet her with the traditional ‘I see you’ gesture. “Ma’itetsyìp, how are you?” The tsahìk asks with a warm smile on her face.

“I’m well, Mo’at.” It’s the most generic answer you can muster up. Sometimes you would confine in Mo’at, but now is not the time. Mo’at knows you and can tell that you’re not being honest, but she doesn’t push it.

“Where is Lo’ak?” Mo’at asks, causing the other children to stiffen and nervously look around at the mention of their brother.

“We don’t know; he ran away a few days ago.” You answer honestly. “Some Metkayina children went after him, but we don’t know where they are either.

Mo’at takes a moment to take in the information. “He will be alright. He is a strong and stubborn child. Eywa will watch over him.” Mo’at’s words seem to comfort the children.

“Matsahìk, can you watch the children? I have to do something.”

“I’ll gladly watch my grandchildren; I’ve missed them so much.”

“Sa’nu, where are you going?” Tuk asks.

Before you could answer your daughter, you hear a loud squack before you feel yourself being knocked to the ground, only to see magenta scales with orange and yellow accents. “Srenton’ong!” You shout in glee at seeing your bonded after being apart for weeks. “I’ve missed you too! Lemme see your wing.”

When you stand up, you begin to examine Srenton’ong’s wing. There’s only a faint scar from where he was shot. Tears start to form in your eyes when you can see that your bonded is okay.

“Sa’nu?”

You were so caught up with Srenton’ong that you nearly forgot to answer Tuk’s question. “I need to find something, ma’ite.”

“Can I come?”

“I’m sorry, Tuk. But you need to stay here.” Tuk pouts a little but immediately perks up when Kiri asks her to help rebraid her hair.

It doesn’t take long for you to pack a small bag full of equipment from the lab, ready to begin your plan for revenge.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Your time learning about Pandoran plants has finally come to bare fruit. You know exactly what you’re looking for; txumtsä'wll, the baja tickler.

It’s as dangerous as it is vital for life on Pandora, and that danger is exactly why you need it.

The typical neurotoxins in Na’vi arrows aren’t going to be enough to sedate another Na’vi. Even if it could, the Na’vi wouldn’t create something to cause pain and distress to another.

“Sreton’ong, down there I see it!” You say, pointing down to a familiar clearing near a river.

Sreton’ong lands effortlessly, and once he does, you unlatch your pouch from his saddle. “Stay here; no matter what happens, do not get close to me.”

Your ikran lets out a dissatisfied grumble and side-eyes you with both sets of eyes. “Don’t give me that look.” You rub the top of his head to soothe him. “If something goes wrong, I need you to stay safe so you can get help.”

He chirps once again, still not completely okay with the plan. “Besides, I don’t know what I would do if something bad happens to you.”

After appeasing your bonded, you cover your face with a mask and cautiously make your way to the poisonous plant.

The plant is simple: extract the toxic liquid inside the plant and dip an arrow tip in it.

The only problem is that the plant could spew toxic gases at any moment, and if it doesn’t release gas, your extraction process could change the pressure inside the plant so much that the entire plant explodes. Needless to say, both options are less than ideal.

Nevertheless, you cautiously make your way to the large plant. Over the years, you’ve learned the basics of plant sampling and all the skills that come along with it. However, you’re not a xenobiologist by trade; you’re an anthropologist and a linguist. This is more Norm and Grace’s frontier, so your methods are less than perfect, but hopefully it’ll suffice.

You meet a bit of resistance when you attempt to stick the needle into the tough skin of the Baja Tickler. Sreton’ong makes sure to let out an audible grunt as if to say that this is a bad idea and that you should stop while you’re ahead.

You ignore the little nagging feeling in your gut and continue to insert the needle into the plant, this time with a little more force than you intended.

It’s faint, but you can hear a whistle sound come from where your needle was inserted. It’s like when you slowly release the air out of a balloon. All you can do is pray to the All Mother that you will remain safe in this endeavor.

It seems as though your prayers were answered, as you can see tiny drops forming through the tube that’s connected to the needle.

Drip by minuscule drip flows through the tube into your jar. It’s a painstakingly slow process. Even after nearly ten minutes, you’ve barely collected even a milliliter of liquid. Although you don’t need much, you still need enough liquid to dip one arrow. Since this is going to take a while, you decide to multitask.

Your hunting knife was confiscated by the RDA when you were captured, so you’ll need to make a new one before the calf communion. Normally, you’d take great pride and care in crafting your hunting knife, but there is no pride to be had in this knife’s creation.

There will be no artistry, no care; all that matters is that you have something sturdy enough and that it causes that creature pain.

That will be its only purpose.

You scour the nearby riverbank for potential materials. Rocks, crystals, wood, just about anything could work. After some time, you find the perfect material. Well, more like you nearly tripped over it. A viperwolf tooth.

Sharp and sturdy, it’ll be the perfect thing to make your knife out of. After another brief period of gathering some wood, vines, and a rock, you make your way back to the Baja tickler to monitor the liquid flow as you work.

Using the knife, you begin chipping away at the tooth. Over and over, you smash the rock onto the tooth, creating jagged serrated edges. It’s not pretty, but you manage to shape the blade so that it’ll easily pierce into the flesh but will tear at the flesh coming out due to the way you carved the edges. When you finish securing the blade to the wood with the vines, you gently remove the needle from the baja tickler once you’ve collected enough liquid.

After getting far from the Baja tickler in case of a retroactive explosion, you take an arrow from Sreton’ong’s saddle and carefully dip the arrowhead into the toxic liquid.

The setup for your revenge is now complete.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Awa’atlu is buzzing with life now that several clans, both forest and ocean, are here prepared for war. Many new faces have joined alongside many old. Around midday is when every warrior has gathered around the cove to listen to the game plan.

“Alone we are weak, but together we are strong.” Jake begins, walking in front of the crowd to make sure everyone can get a glimpse of him. “One arrow will snap. But many arrows together cannot be broken. We cannot be broken!” Jake yells, throwing a bundle of arrows into the air. The crowd follows suit. Ululating, cheering, and brandishing their own weapons in the air.

“Some of you have fought the Sky People before; some of you haven’t. The Sky People are a threat that can be dealt with. You do not need to fear the metal birds they fly. Cautious, yes; afraid, no.”

At the mention of the Sampsons and Scorpions of the RDA, many of the Na’avi shiver.

“The wings are the weak spot. A well-placed shot or even a boulder will take the creature down.”

“And what of their metal fish, Toruk Makto?” The Ta’unui Olo’eyktan asks.

“The ones above the water are easy to deal with; there is minimal protection for the Sky People. It’ll be easy to land a hit. Aim for the whirling tail of the metal fish.”

Jake goes on and on about how to fight the Sky People. They’re the easy target, but they’re not going to be the main enemy.

“I’m going to be honest, the biggest challenge we face is not the Sky People, but rather other Na’vi.” A chorus of gasps echoes from the crowd. “The Mangkwan are probably the most experienced fighters on Pandora because of their constant raids. Any advantage we have against the RDA does not exist against the Ash. This will be the fight of our lives.”

The Mangwan are definitely a major threat. There’s no guarantee that they’ll show up, but the little that you know about General Ardmore leads you to believe that she would not be keen on allying with hostiles. While Ardmore would be against it, what’s stopping Quaritch from disobeying orders and bringing the Mangkwan?

Quaritch seems to be going rogue, and he appears to know the bloodthirsty tshahìk intimately, so the chance that the Mangkwan don’t show up is practically zero. As bad as it sounds, you need the Mangkwan to show up. Where the Ash are means Quaritch is nearby, and if Quaritch is nearby, so is Wainfleet.

That thought consumes your mind for the remainder of the day. Even through what may be your final communion with Eywa, even through the war festival, your mind stays focused on your plan.

What you’ll do when you see him. How you’ll make him suffer. Nothing else plagues your mind. Sleep even evades you as night comes.

The entire night you’re in a weird limbo between sleep and awake. Perhaps it’s the anxiety of what you’re going to do today that is preventing you from fully sleeping. Because you’re not fully asleep, you easily feel your husband’s hand placed on your shoulder, gently trying to wake you.

“What do you want, Jake?” You ask groggily.

“Tonowari has reached out to the elder Tulkun; we’re about to leave to ask them to help us in the fight. You should come.”

You scoff at him, eyes still closed. “You’re only asking me to come because I called you out on always excluding me. You’re only asking me so things can go back to normal.”

“Baby, I am sorry. I’m trying to make things right by doing the things I should’ve always done.” He uses his hands to gently tilt your head towards him, and you finally look at him. “Please let me do right by you.” Your heart softens at his sincerity. Anything can happen today, and despite all the hurt you feel, you can’t bring yourself to stay this mad at them when there’s a real possibility that you won’t see them in this life again.

“Okay.” Is all you say as you carefully move your arm from underneath Neteyam’s head.

Outside the marui, Neytiri, Tonowari, and Ronal are already waiting in the water on their mounts. Ronal and Neytiri are even on the same tsurak since they’re faster than ilu’s, and Neytiri doesn’t know how to ride one yet.

“You have yet to learn the way of water, so you should ride with Jakesully. There are some txampayse nearby for you to use.” Even though Tonowari speaks like it’s a suggestion, you know it’s not, so you get on Jake’s tsurak after he’s called it.

As your small group travels the short distance to the meeting point with the tulkun elders, you begin to feel your heart start racing. Normally, the beautiful scenery of the warm dappled light of the early morning sun dancing beneath the waves would calm you down. But today’s not a normal day. In just a few short hours, you will end a nightmare that has been plaguing you for far too long. It’s not long before you reach the meeting area. As Jake helps you onto the small rock, you can see the shadows of the tulkun elders beneath the waves.

You know the tulkun get big, but seeing how the great expanse of just their heads dwarfs you never fails to mesmerize you. If you were still in your human form, you’re sure you’d be no more significant than plankton to them. You can clearly tell which one is the Matriarch. She’s by far the largest and has the most ornate piercings and tattoos compared to the others. You all take a respectful kneel in front of the matriarch.

“Great Matriarch, wise elders, the Sky People are coming.” Jake begins with Tonowari acting as a translator. “Here, today. Right now. To kill our tulkun families. I beg you, fight with us.”

You’re unable to read the matriarch's expression upon hearing Jake’s request, and you’re definitely unable to understand her response, but thankfully you have Tonowari.

“She says, We respect Toruk Makto, but our ways are ancient.” The Matriarch speaks once more; the echoes of her words send ripples throughout the open ocean. “We believe that killing will only bring more killing, in an endless expanding spiral.”

Unsurprised, yet disappointed with the response, Jake rises to continue speaking. “Hear my words. The Sky People will never stop. Not until the last of the tulkun is hunted.”

After Jake’s words, all of the elders begin to whistle and smack their fins in rapid suggestion. Initially, you think that Jake’s words have upset them, but then you see it. To your left, you see a small group of tulkun juveniles entering the council with na’vi riding them.

“Lo’ak.”

You breathe out in relief at the sight of your son. Sure, his once blue skin is a burnt shade of purple, but he’s standing with all limbs intact as Payakan guides him in front of the Matriarch. It takes all of your strength not to run over to him and suffocate him in a hug.

“Lo’ak, what’re you doing? You can’t be here.” Jake scolds Lo’ak and walks up towards him, but you hold him back.

“I am Brother of Tulkun. I have the right to speak.”

“Lo’ak speaks the truth. You must listen.” Tsireya backs him up, doing sign language as well.

The Matriarch speaks once more, catching everyone’s attention. “She says, his brother is outcast. You have no standing here.” Tonowari makes sure to look Lo’ak in the eye as he translates the last part.

“If he is outcast, then I am outcast.”

“And I am outcast.”

“Daughter, silence.” Ronal tries to scold her daughter, but all that earns her is a glare from said child.

“No! You will never see me again!” Tsireya’s words are like a knife to Ronal’s heart. She’s left speechless with wide eyes and sadness plastered on her face.

“And I and my brother are outcast.”

“Aonung!” You can practically see an aneurysm forming in Tonowari’s brain.

“And we are also outcast.”

There is a brief pregnant pause. Everyone is staring at each other, saying nothing. The tension is so thick, it could be cut with a knife. That is, until the Matriarch speaks once more. “She says, you may speak.”

“Hear my words. My brother went back to his birth clan to defend them. But they were wiped out by the demon ships. Only Ta’nok survived because she fought back. Come forward.” Lo’ak gestures to a figure behind you, and it’s not long before you see who it is.

The scene in front of you is horrible. Words can hardly describe. A tulkun, no bigger than Payakan, is covered in scars, and her body is littered with metal harpoons that are embedded deep within her skin. There’s even one where her eyes would be. Several chunks of flesh are missing from her sides, her crest, and her fins. To say she was mutilated is an understatement. Only a monster could harm an innocent creature in this manner. Even a palulukan shows more mercy. The sight causes your knees to go weak; you would’ve fallen if it weren't for Jake holding you up. If you’re feeling this much pain, you can only imagine how Ronal and Tonowari feel, as they have a profound respect for and connection with the tulkun.

“Ta’nok says, I speak for the dead mothers and the dead calves. I speak for my people and all our songs. Gone. Forever.” As Tonowari translates, tears begin to brim in his eyes, and he sniffles, holding back the pain.

“She says, I am the last, the blind witness to our end.” You wipe away your own tears looking at Ta’nok. How could anyone be so cruel? You look over at your husband with red-rimmed eyes; he looks as stoic as ever, but you know that it’s just a front; he’s feeling as much pain as you are right now.

“Ta’nok says, The Tulkun Way must change. Payakan shows our path. We must fight.”

“We must fight!” Lo’ak yells, echoing Ta’nok’s words.

The Matriarch says very little before she and the other elders return to the water.

“What did she say?” Jake asks.

“They will decide.” Ronal replies

You can only hope that they will change their ways and fight alongside you.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Lo’ak, you call out to your son when you finally arrive back at Awa’atlu. He tried to run off the moment you all reached the village, but there’s no way you’d let that slide.

With his tail tucked between his legs and his ears pinned to his head, he makes his way to you all.

“What the hell were you thinking, boy, running off into the middle of the ocean without a word?” Jake scolded as soon as your son was in earshot.

“Lo’ak, you had us so worried.” Neytiri adds.

The boy avoids looking you in the eyes as he speaks. “I had to; none of you would’ve understood.” His tail whips around behind him in agitation. “Payakan was unfairly ostracized. None of you understand what it’s like to be alone, to have no one; I had to go to him. You would’ve stopped me.”

Jake opens his mouth to say something, but you beat him to it. “Lo’ak, come with me.” Your voice is soft yet stern, and it’s what makes your son finally look at you.

You gesture for your son to follow you. “I will handle this, trust me.” You say to your mates.

The walk is spent in silence as you gather your thoughts, and Lo’ak doesn’t know what to say. Once you reach a secluded area on the island, you turn to face your uncharacteristically quiet son.

There’s a moment of silence before you pull him into a crushing hug. The tears you’ve been holding in.

“You scared me half to death, Lo’ak.” You hold his head closer to you. “I was so worried about you.”

With shaky hands, your son reaches out to hug you back. “I’m sorry, Mom.” He confesses.

You nuzzle your cheek against his head, inhaling his scent. “I feared the worst, but I prayed that it wouldn’t happen.” Fearing to jinx it, you don’t bother explicitly saying what you thought. You both know what you’re referring to anyway.

“I’m sorry, Mom, but I had to go. Payakan needed me.”

You pull away from your son to look him in the eyes. Your hands are resting protectively on his shoulders. “I’m not upset at you for going to Payakan. I’m upset because you left without a word.”

“I was scared Dad was gonna stop me if he knew.”

Your eyes soften at his confession. “Sit with me for a moment. You don’t have to speak if you don’t want to, but I need you to listen.”

You both sit side by side on the pale yellow sand. Lo’ak curls his tail around his legs as he pulls them up to his chest.

“I know you and your father don’t always see eye to eye, but everything he does is out of love; you know that, right?”

His silence stings your heart. You never want your kids to think that any of their parents doesn’t love them.

You pull your son into a side hug, letting him rest his head on your shoulder as you both look at the ocean.

“Your father loves us dearly; that includes you too. He’s just terrible at showing it sometimes.

“Now don’t take this as me justifying his behavior, but I hope to at least explain it. A lot of his decisions are made out of fear. Fear of harm coming to us. Fear of losing us.

“In his head, it’s better for us to be mad at him because that means we’re okay and safe.” You blink back tears as you think back to the pain you felt when Jake made the unilateral decision to leave you behind all those months ago. “He’s lost a lot in life and feels a lot of guilt. If something happens to any of us, he’d never forgive himself.”

Lo’ak pouts and furrows his brows in the same manner you’ve seen your husband do when he’s frustrated. “But that doesn’t explain why he treats me like shit.”

You choose to ignore his cursing. “I’ve told you that you are like your father, haven’t I?” Lo’ak nods. “Well, he sees it too. Just in a different light.

“Instead of seeing his caring, playful, and protective side in you, he sees a version of himself that he hates in you. He sees an impulsive and reckless man who started a war and got people killed.

“He’s afraid that you’ll turn out like him. He doesn’t want you to carry the burden of countless lives dying from your actions as he does. He doesn’t want you to make the same mistakes as him.”

Lo’ak lowers his legs as he takes in your words. “He acts as if he hates me sometimes.”

You pull your son in closer to your embrace. “He doesn’t hate you; he’s just scared and shit at properly expressing his emotions.”

For a moment, the two of you sit in silence, listening to the gentle crash of the waves.

“I know you feel alone sometimes, like you don’t belong. I’ve felt that way for most of my life, especially while on Earth.”

Lo’ak’s eyes widen at your words. Normally, you’d avoid talking about your time on Earth. You’d give vague answers or only mention the training for the Avatar Program. So, for you to volunteer this information was shocking.

“I was all alone. I had no parents, siblings, or cousins. Not even a single friend. I could’ve died, and no one would’ve noticed, let alone mourned for me.

“There was a time when I felt so alone that I thought about giving up on life; having a friend during that time would’ve meant the world to me.”

You lower your head just enough to look at your son. “If you told me that you wanted to go to Payakan, I wouldn’t have stopped you. I know how important it’s to have someone by your side. I’d fight with your father if I had to.”

You press a kiss on his forehead. “So next time you’re feeling like this, come talk to me. I’m your mother, and I’ll always be there for you.”

Lo’ak doesn’t respond. Instead, he leans into your entrance, nuzzling his body against yours.

He won’t admit it, but you can hear the faint sound of sniffles coming from him when he smooshes his face against your shoulder.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

As the hours tick by, you can feel that the RDA is close by. Theoretically, you’re ready. You have plenty of arrows, including your poisoned ones, your bow has been tightened, and your knife sharpened. By all means, you’re as physically prepared as you can be.

“My Love, can you come here please?” You turn around to see Jake and Neytiri nearby with bowls of paint in their hands.

“Baby, I know that things have been strained between us, and we’ve done some things that we regret.” Jake speaks to you softly as soon as you arrive. “I hate that there’s not enough time for us to fix it, but I don’t want us to go into battle with you thinking that we don’t love and respect you.”

Neytiri uses her free hand to intertwine it with one of yours; you don’t avoid her touch. “MaSyulsng, I’m sorry for the pain I’ve caused you.”

You start to feel tears forming in your eyes. Your emotions are confusing and contradictory. Despite everything, you still love them.

“I know you both love me. I’m only upset because I love you and you love me. If I didn’t love you both, I wouldn’t care.”

Jake reaches over to wipe away some of the tears that fell from your eyes. “I promise that if I survive this, I’ll do everything I can to fix my wrongs.”

You grab onto the hand on your face, nuzzling your cheek into his palm, looking at your husband with teary eyes. “Don’t talk like that, Jake; we’ll get through this. We always do.”

After that, your lovers begin decorating your body with paint. White, yellow, and teal patterns fill your lithe blue body. Due to wearing one of Neytiri’s tops that covers your chest and neck but not your back, the two of them spend most of their efforts on your face, back, and arms. The three of you remain in silence for the duration of the painting. So much needs to be said, so much wants to be said, yet nothing is said.

When they’re done, you cover your hand in the remaining teal paint and overlap your handprint with Jake’s on Neytiri’s chest. You’ve done this many times, yet you take a moment just to stare at it. Normally, your handprint would be significantly smaller than Jake’s; it would look as if a child had placed their hand on Neytiri. But now your handprint isn’t much smaller than Jake’s, and it takes up much more space over her heart.

“May Eywa guide us to safety and victory.” You say a small prayer for comfort. “We should find the children; it is almost time.”

There aren’t many places inside the little cave for the children to be, so it doesn’t take long for you to find them. As soon as Tuk sees you, she runs up to you with her arms open, hoping you’ll pick her up, which you do.

“I’m scared, mama.”

Her tiny, shaky voice makes part of your heart crack. She should have to experience this. No child should have to go through what she has.

“I know maTuktirey. I know. It’s okay to be a little scared.” You press a kiss to the top of her head as she begins to smush her face into the crook of your neck and cling onto you like a baby syaksyuk. “It’s okay to be scared, but we have to be brave. Remember, strong heart, no fear.”

Still holding Tuk, you look at your eldest daughter. “Kiri, come.” You shift Tuk so that she’s resting in one hand so you can use your other hand to wave her over. “You too, Spider.”

As much as you’d hate to admit it, this could be your last hug with your kids, so you want to soak in the moment for as long as you can. That thought makes you want to cry, but you hold it in. Your children are being strong and hiding how terrified they are, so you have to muster the strength to show that you’re okay.

“Do not leave this cave unless you absolutely have to, and if you do take an ilu and get as far away from here as fast as you can, please. My heart won’t make it if something happens to you guys. I love you all so much.” You kiss each of their foreheads once before you reluctantly put Tuk down to go to your sons, who are standing in front of your mates. As you’re walking up, you see Jake hand Lo’ak a gun. Like his father, Lo’ak was more skilled with guns, while Neteyam preferred a bow like Neytiri.

“I’m riding with you?” Lo’ak’s eyes light up just a little.

Jake shakes his head and shuts down that thought quickly. “No, I need you here. I can’t do this without knowing you kids are safe.” Just as quickly as excitement had covered his face, so fast did disappointment paint it. “You both need to keep your posts no matter what.”

“Lima Charlie, sir.” Your boys say in unison.

Before walking off, Jake removes his spare magazine to hand it to Lo’ak. Although he’s rough around the edges and can be a hardass at times, it’s little moments like this where Jake shows his care.

“If we do not return, you take Spider and the girls, and you go as far and as fast as you can.” Neytiri says before rushing off, knowing that the RDA is near.

You reach out to cup both of your son’s cheeks and caress them gently with your thumbs before leaning down to press a kiss onto their foreheads as well. “Stay safe and stay together. I love you both with all my heart.”

Once again, you have to leave your children. Knowing that you’re doing this for your children doesn’t make the task any easier. One wrong move could leave your babies without one of their mothers, or worse, harm could befall them. This is for them, and if you have to sacrifice yourself for them to experience peace and safety, then you’ll have to.

Srenton’ong waits for you on the pathway. As soon as you make tsaheylu with him, he squacks and flies up to the ambush point in the surrounding floating islands.

Srenton’ong finds a spot to perch on nearby Jake and Neytiri. Looking around you, there are probably hundreds of Na’vi warriors hidden in the rocks with you, and that’s not counting the ones in the water. You pray to Eywa that the souls who will return to her die quickly.

You can feel your heart rate accelerating each minute as you hear the loud, metallic sounds of the RDA convoy draw closer and closer.

“Hold.” Jake commands.

Beneath you, you can already see the RDA entering the water to engage in a massacre. Soon, you see a sight that both delights and saddens you. Large tulkun elders launch themselves from the water to slam their heavy bodies onto the RDA ships. It’s great to have more allies in a fight. But it saddens you that these peaceful creatures had to abandon their ancient vow of pacifism to save themselves from extinction because of humanity’s greed.

“NOW!”

Chaos ensues as hundreds of Na’vi warriors ambush the RDA from the skies and sea. Even though Toruk is the only one able to throw the aircraft around, the other warriors are still able to attack the ships. Explosions and screams—from friend and foe—fill the cove.

You show no mercy to the RDA personnel. You might be a subpar warrior, especially after not being in active combat for over a decade; you’re still in your Avatar body. You have the size, strength, and durability of the Na’vi. Your arrows are still able to pierce the hearts of the pilots in the cockpit even if you’re not as skilled as Jake or Neytiri. The humans are not the primary threat, and you know it’s only a matter of time before the real threat shows up.

“Jake, Mangkwan!” Neytiri shouts through her comms.

Just past the mountain peak that hugs the setting sun perfectly, you can see several trails of smoke flying towards you and the distant yips of your biggest foe.

The Mangkwan have the same size, strength, and durability as any other Na’vi. They have the same agility on their ikrans. But worst of all, they are probably the most experienced clan when it comes to combat due to all their raids, and now they’re likely all equipped with firearms and explosives.

While the RDA will kill you just to get you out of the way, the Mangkwan take pleasure in causing their victims the most amount of pain. From their weapons designed to cause as much pain as possible to their suicidal battle tactics, the Mangkwan live to cause pain and suffering to those around them.

As soon as the Ash arrive, bodies start dropping out of the sky from the onslaught of bombs being shot. The sound of gunfire comes from every direction, and it is almost impossible to tell where exactly it’s coming from. Dodging the bullets and bombs takes all of your focus. Because you weren’t able to train Sreton’ong for this type of combat—like Neytiri did with Sa’ata—you can feel him beginning to panic a little through the bond. You’re beginning to panic a little too; you’ve killed so many, and now you’re out of normal arrows. But you have to stay strong. Strong for the moment when you’ll get justice.

“It’s okay, maSreton’ong, everything will be—Ack!” You feel Sreton’ong suddenly twist in a different direction while you scream out in pain as you feel a familiar, burning pain. Despite the all-consuming pain wracking through your body, you quickly realize that it’s not coming from you; it’s coming from the bond, which can only mean one thing.

“Sreton’ong! No!”

Sreton’ong has been shot. He’s been shot several times right near his lungs. The pain is too much for him to stay airborne, so the both of you are taking a sharp nose dive towards the wet rocks below you.

Despite all the pain you’re experiencing, you’re not worried about it. Your pain isn’t as significant as your bonded’s. Your only concern is trying to help Sreton’ong slow down so he doesn’t hurt himself further by crashing face-first into rock. But your attempts are futile. He’s losing so much blood and doesn’t have the strength to even attempt to level himself out. Each second, you’re getting closer and closer to the ground, and you’re running out of ideas. Eventually, you accept that you’re going to hit the ground with your ikran.

That is, until you feel a sudden sense of relief and the wind blowing in a different direction. You’re no longer in pain. You’re no longer in pain! Just before you crash into the water, you see Sreton’ong falling to the rock you were originally supposed to be on. He broke the bond and threw you into the water!

The sounds of the carnage occurring above come to a sudden silence once you’re submerged in the dark, cold water. Sreton’ong, you have to get back to Sreton’ong.

The war going on around you becomes nothing more than background noise. The bitter cold water piercing through your skin doesn’t faze you. All that’s in your mind is your ikran.

Your mind has to be playing tricks on you. Sreton’ong wasn’t shot. He’s okay. Right? Eywa loves her children. Eywa will provide. Eywa will help. She has to.

You can’t reach the rock quick enough. The sight before you will haunt you for the rest of your life. A trail of fresh blood leads your eyes towards your bonded lying in a pool of his own blood; the infrequent heaves let you know that he’s still alive.

“MaSreton’ong!” You scream out, tears flooding down your face.

When you kneel down and rest his head on your lap, there’s no doubt about it; he was shot. Several bullet wounds litter his chest; one even hits his operculum, but due to the angle at which he was hit, it wasn’t enough to mercifully kill him; rather, it’s making him suffer unnecessarily.

Sreton’ong’s eyes are looking weakly at you. It’s like he’s trying to fight off the eternal sleep. You reach behind you to grab your kuru and connect it with Sreton’ong’s. “Let me share the pain with you.”

The moment your kurus are connected, the pain wracks your body. You feel the familiar sting of bullet wounds littering your chest. You feel like one lung has collapsed while the other is steadily filling with blood.

“It shouldn’t have been—It was meant for me. Why would you risk your life for me?” You manage to choke out through tears. You know that if you noticed the bullets flying towards you, you would’ve used your body as a shield, but he shouldn’t have done that—never him. “I just got you back, I—I can’t lose you. I see you, maSreton’ong. You have to stay with me.”

With the little strength he has, he nuzzles his head on your still flat stomach. It takes you a moment to realize what his gesture means, but when you do, your eyes go wide. “You know?”

He makes a low grumble noise, as if he’s saying yes, before his head goes limp and his eyes close.

Your trembling hands gently tap his face. “Sreton’ong?” No response. You shift his head side to side, looking for any sign of life. “C’mon Sreton’ong, please wake up! Eywa, please wake him up!” You know your prayers are futile. You can feel it through the bond— well, more like you can’t feel anything. You know it, but you cannot accept it.

He’s with Eywa now.

That realization causes a violent tremor to rattle your body as you let out a blood-curdling scream. Your wails pierce through the air. The wails of mourning echo throughout the battlefield. You’re reduced to a weeping mess, cradling Sreton’ong’s lifeless body in your arms while rocking back and forth like a mother would do to calm a crying child.

Why Eywa? Oh why? Why couldn’t it have been you? Why did it have to be him?

Time becomes an illusion. All you can do is cry. You’re crying so much that it’s hard to breathe. You’re practically hyperventilating.

“Well, isn’t this a pretty sight to see?”

No.

Eywa, no.

Even in your despair, you’ll always hear that voice. It haunts you.

With a tear-stained face, you look up to see the ghost of your past and the demon of your present. He’s walking towards you as if he’s leisurely promenading by a serene lake and not a graveyard that’s collecting bodies with no mercy. Strangely, you cannot see him holding any firearms.

Instinctively, you reach for your bow in preparation to nock the arrow. This is your one shot. You have to hit him. You only have one arrow left. You have to attack now. If he gets too close, you’re done for. At best, you’re a mediocre long-distance fighter compared to other Na’vi. You stand no chance at winning against a military-trained, sadistic maniac.

You reach for the special arrow tucked in a pouch on Sreton’ong’s saddle only to panic when you realize that it’s missing. Panicked, you scan your surroundings to see where the arrow could’ve fallen when Sreton’ong crashed, praying to Eywa that it didn’t fall into the water.

You spot it. Thankfully, it’s not in the water, but it’s in the second-worst position it could possibly be. It’s halfway between you and Wainfleet.

It’s now or never. Desisively, you unsheath your hunting knife and make a dash for the arrow. Just as you’re about to pick it up, you feel a heavy boot stomp onto your forearm; you can’t help but howl in pain.

“You cry out so prettily.” He leers over you with a lecherous smile, grinding his boot further into your arm. “I didn’t think I’d see you in all this chaos, but your cries led me right to you.” He flips you on your back, one of his hands gripping your wrists while his knee stabs into your stomach. With his other hand, he reaches out to cup your chin, but you manage to bite down on his finger so hard that it bleeds before he can touch you.

“Get off me, you fucking per—” A crisp slap echoes through the night. It was so forceful that your head snapped to the other side, and you even had a faint taste of copper in your mouth. You don’t get much time to process the fact that he slapped you before he digs his grimey fingernails into the skin of your cheek, forcing you to look at his eyes that are devoid of any ounce of humanity.

“You’re testing my patience. I’ve been nothing but nice to you. I gave you pleasure, I let you see your little boy toy, and I was even going to let you keep your bastard, and what did that get me? Some disobedient whore who needs to be punished.” His knee digs further into your stomach.

Despite the pain, you still struggle in his hold. Wriggling and kicking as much as you can, but it’s useless; he’s like an unmoving wall.

“How shall I punish my bitch?” He drawls on, gliding one of his hands down your body. His hand lingers far too long on the bottom of your top, right where your breast is, before continuing down your body and then punching you square in the stomach, causing you to curl up in pain. A sadistic grin forms on his face. “Yeah, this will do.”

Wainfleet launches an avalanche of punches on your stomach. You try to cover your stomach, but that doesn’t work. That is, until you manage to squeeze your knees between a gap he leaves when he winds up to punch you once more. When you bring your knees up, you shove them right up against his lower jaw— knocking his shades off in the process—which causes him enough pain for his grip on your wrists to loosen just enough for you to scuttle across the ground away from him.

Unfortunately, you don’t get far enough away from him before you feel his heavy boot kick you right in the middle of your spine.

“You think you can run for me bitch? You’re mine.” He squats down to grab a fistful of your hair, yanking your neck up, and then smashing your face into the rock. “I was your first cock, you’re my property. And I’m going to show you what happens to sluts who disobey me.”

He leers over you once more before raining down kicks all over your rapidly bruising body. Your back, your ribs, your sides, occasionally your head, and especially your stomach, no part of your body was safe.

Each blow to your body causes you immense pain. A rib is likely cracked if not broken. At some point, you start coughing up a little blood. The metallic taste is all you can taste, and it’s not long before it mixes in with the tears streaming down your face. The pain is so intense that at some point you can no longer make any noise. Your voice is so hoarse from all of your crying.

You try to shield your stomach, but it’s of no use. All it leads to is your hands stinging in pain. From all the abuse your body has suffered, you feel like there’s warm liquid pooling between your thighs.

But in spite of the pain, you slowly inch your way to the arrow. Luckily, Wainfleet is so consumed with inflicting as much harm as possible on you that he doesn’t register you moving to the arrow. Your body is so weak and sore, but you keep going, and soon enough you reach the arrow.

You angle your body just enough to hide it, waiting for your perfect chance to strike as he continues his assault on your body. You’re so exhausted, both mentally and physically, but you have to stay focused on your goal. You must strike when the time is right. And thankfully, that’s sooner rather than later.

“You’re taking your punishment well.” He crouches down, whispering in your ear before licking and biting the tip. Not yet. “Maybe I should give my bitch a little treat for taking her punishment so well.” His hot breath suffocates you as he traces his chapped lips from your ear to your jaw to your cheek until he lingers far too close to your own. The bile rising in your throat is nearly impossible to contain at the thought of him trying to steal something so intimate from you. The moment before your attack seems to happen in slow motion. You wait until there’s barely a centimeter between your lips before you finally attack.

With all the strength you have, you shove the arrow right into his eye. His screams are like music to your ears. You wish you had a camera so you could play back this moment over and over again. You keep your eyes on him, wanting to commit his pained expression to memory.

Even though he’s in pain, he still finds the strength to wrap his hands around your throat, cutting off your airflow, but you don’t care; you continue to smile and laugh maniacally. “You fucking bitch! I’m going to kill you!”

His hands squeeze harder and harder around your throat, adding to his collection of bruises on your body. Regardless, you keep hold of the arrow, shoving it deeper and deeper into his eye. Blood pours out of the wound, covering your face and chest with the red substance. You pay no mind to it. The smile plastered on your face isn’t that of a sane person. But that doesn’t matter to you, not at this moment.

The Golden Rule: treat others the way you want to be treated. The time for retribution has come. He gets off on the suffering of others; it is time for him to get a taste of his medicine. You will reciprocate and multiply his cruelty.

Your laughing grows louder when you feel his grip on your throat gradually loosen. The poison coursing through his veins is working. He’s too far in his blind rage to realize that he no longer has the upper hand. Now is the time for your revenge to go into full effect.

Kicking a man in the balls when his are inside his body doesn’t elicit the same pain response as kicking one who has his on the outside, but because he’s so weak, he falls all the same.

“What the fuck did you do to me bitch?” He barks, his hands trembling as he’s unable to sit up.

You ignore him for a moment as you leisurely walk over to pick up your knife. You’d never think about using this knife on another living soul. That would be cruel. This knife was made just for him. The sharp serrated edges are perfect. The knife will go in cleanly, but the same cannot be said for when it comes out.

“There’s a fast-acting paralyzing poison coursing through your veins. You won’t be able to move for a while, but you’ll feel everything that’s about to happen—I made sure of that.” You muse as you casually draw patterns on his neck using the tip of your knife.

“Get that thing away from me, you bitch! You’ll regret—” You don’t let him finish his sentence before landing a crisp slap right across his face and then yanking his jaw towards you, digging your nails into his face like he did to you earlier.

“You’re my bitch now. And bitches don’t speak; they bark. So go on, bark.”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes at you. “You’re fucking crazy; I’m no bitch, and I’m certainly not barking for you.”

You smile. He thinks this is a joke. That’s good. This’ll be no fun if he’s obedient right off the bat. But still, you gave him an order, and he disobeyed; he must be punished.

Calmly, you adjust yourself just a little from your squatting position beside him to get a better angle on your target. Without a word, you take your knife and cut his pinky finger clean off. Well, clean wouldn’t be the word to describe it.

Strings of flesh crudely keep the finger attached. Bone can be seen at the joint area where you cut. Blood quickly oozes out of the severed appendage.

Wainfleet’s mouth gapes open as he silently gasps in pain, his eyes nearly bulging from his head. “What the fuck is wrong with you? You bitch—”

Another finger.

“I’m gonna kill you!”

And another.

Third time’s the charm. He stays silent this time. Probably in too much pain to form words. It’s his own fault, really. He’s an adult, not a child; you won’t repeat directions. He still hasn’t fully obeyed you, so you move your knife to sever his index finger. The moment the blade nears the join, he panics.

“W-wait! Please don’t! I’m sorry!” Still not the right sounds, so you continue what you were doing. The second the blade touches his knuckle, prepared to slice, he finally swallows his pride. “Woof! Woof! Woof!” Satisfied with his newfound obedience, you decide to let his recent transgressions slide just this one time; it’s not like it’ll save him anyway.

You grin mockingly at the groveling man beneath you. “See, that wasn’t so hard, now was it? If you listened the first time, I wouldn’t have had to punish you.” You coo, dragging the knife’s tip at his knuckle. “Are you sorry?”

The poison doesn’t let him, but you can tell that he’s trying to nod frantically. “Yes! Woof, woof! I’m sorry! Woof.”

You laugh hysterically at his pathetic state and dig the knife into his skin, but only enough to leak some blood. “No, you’re not sorry. You’re not sorry at all.”

You crawl over to his lower half. “But don’t worry; sorry will be the last thing you feel, alongside pain and fear.” And with that, you make a strategic slash across his pants, and you keep going until his pants and underwear are nothing but shreds and his groin is exposed.

“You always told me that pain is pleasure; well, I’m about to make you feel the most pleasure you’ve ever felt.”

You can see it in his eyes: he’s terrified of you, and he’s powerless to do anything. He can’t even crawl away.

Your knife trails around his closed, dry slit. It’s a delicate area for any male, especially Na’vi males. The slit is sensitive, and according to Jake, the dick hiding inside is ten times more sensitive compared to a human one. It’s not something that should be forcefully pried open. But that’s not something you’ll care about for Wainfleet.

“No! Please don’t!” He screams out as your knife pokes itself into his slit, forcing out his dick. When your knife doesn’t cut it, you take a scrap piece of cloth, wrap it around your hand and forcefully rip his pathetic puny penis out.

“You take so much pride in this little thing.” You squeeze on it, causing him to yelp out in pain. “I wonder what you’ll do when it’s gone.”

Before he can even plead for mercy, you take your knife and begin sawing off the grotesque appendage. You could go fast, but slow draws out the pain. He can’t even scream at this point. His body convulses at each slice, unable to do anything else.

Once it’s finally removed, you lean over and shove it into his mouth with a sickening grin. “You’re gonna bleed out soon; I should hurry up.”

You crawl back to his upper half, tapping the bloody knife on his kuru. He barely has the strength left to even look at you in terror. But you know that he knows what you’re about to do next.

“This cut shall be in the name of my brother, Tsu’tey te Rongloa Ateyitan. You shall feel the pain you caused him.”

You yank his kuru and press the blade against the sacred body part. “By my hand, I shall grant you a fate worse than death.” With that pledge, you slice through his kuru.

His body seizes, and his eyes roll to the back of his head. He’s not dead, though; you can tell from his hollow, ragged breathing. Good. You still have a lot more in store for him. But seeing your tormentor in this state, you can’t help but maniacally cackle at his suffering.

Unconsciously, you rub your bloodied hands over your face, smearing pain and blood everywhere, but you don’t care. The scared eighteen-year-old girl is finally getting her justice. Nothing else matters.

“Two hundred and sixty-three.” You whisper, leering over his face. His mouth gapes open as blood pools in his mouth, but he’s still alive. “You will pay for your sins two hundred and sixty-three times. I will cleanse the world of your existence.”

You hover over him in a straddle-like position. One knee anchored onto the ground while you dig the heel of your foot into his elbow. You can hear a faint crack from beneath your foot.

“Go to hell.” You say, eerily calm, before you drive your knife into his other eye. Blood sprays everywhere, and his once loud screams have been reduced to low muffles, but he’s still alive, for now.

Adrenaline surges through your body as you rain down lethal stabs anywhere you can, each one being just as strong as the last. No part of his body is safe. You stab his face, neck, arms, chest, thighs, everywhere. You stab everywhere.

One. For Sylwanin.

Two. For Sreton’ong.

Three. For you.

.

Two hundred sixty.

Two hundred sixty-one.

Two hundred sixty-two.

Two hundred sixty-three.

The final stab lands where his heart is—was. His face is caved in, sliced beyond recognition. Bloody stab wounds litter his body. Parts of his skeleton are visible in some areas due to some chunks of flesh being pulverized. Holes litter his abdomen so much so that some of his intestines are leaking out. Outside of his blood-soaked clothing, he’s completely unrecognizable. He was long gone before even a quarter of the wounds appeared.

He’s long gone.

He’s gone.

It’s gone.

Gone.

That thought brings a genuine smile to your face. The demon is gone. You killed it. It can’t hurt anyone anymore. It can’t hurt you anymore. The only remnants of its existence are its clothing and the blood painting your body. It’s gone. You’ve purged the world of a great evil.

“Jake, I’m down.” You hear Neytiri’s voice coming from your comm that’s still secured safely on your neck.

The sound of your wife’s tired voice snaps you out of your daze, and you’re brought back to reality. You’re still on an active battlefield; bullets and bombs are flying everywhere. You were so out of it that you were unaware your breathing sounded like you had just run an ultramarathon, and your heart was practically pounding out of your chest.

“Get to safety. Do not attack. We’re done.” Jake’s barely able to speak, as you can hear him trying to catch his breath. “Y/N, are you there?”

You didn’t realize that your hands were all of this death and destruction; it can’t be for nothing. This can’t be the end. “I’m down too.”

“Get to safety, please, baby.” You can hear the relief flood through Jake at the sound of your voice.

“I will go to the children. Stay safe, my loves.”

You glance down at your blood-covered hands and the knife they carry. You carry a weapon fashioned in the style of your enemies. Pain and suffering were the goals of this knife; it is not a proper Na’vi weapon. Oh, how far you’ve fallen.

Despite how low you’ve sunk, regret isn’t something that you feel. Even if you got to go back in time, you would still kill him in the same manner. The only thing you can even think of potentially regretting is not doing it sooner.

Surprisingly, the little area you’re in has no immediate danger; it is devoid of life outside of you and the two bodies near you. That is, until you hear panting coming from the ocean and see someone clutching their chest as they try to reach the shore.

“Tsahìk!” You yell as you jump back into the frigid water to help pull Ronal out. The rhythmic crashing of the ocean waves does little to help you get the tsahìk onto land.

When you finally get her out of the water, you gasp in horror to see a projectile from a speargun is stuck right above where her heart would be. You rest her as carefully as you can onto the rock. “Tsahhìk, I’ll be right back.”

You rush over to Sreton’ong’s corpse and carefully reach over him to grab your pouch that’s attached to his saddle. There’s not much in there; you doubt there’s anything truly useful, but maybe it’ll help. Just before you go back to Ronal, you go back to the water and rinse off as much blood as you can from your hands.

“That blood…” Ronal barely manages to gasp out through her pain.

“It’s not mine.” You take a cloth from your bag and make a makeshift pillow; it’s not much, but it’ll bring her some comfort. The oils and salves in your bag will do little without the ability for you to safely remove the projectile. A wet rock in the middle of a cove during an ongoing battle isn’t exactly the most sterile environment to perform surgery. “Do not worry about me. Worry about yourself. You—”

“I’m dying.” Ronal says through the pain.

“You’ll be okay. We’ll find some help.”

“Why must you and your wife always argue?” Ronal scolds as you put one of her legs on top of your thigh so you can examine her protruding belly. “I am dying. But first I will push out this baby.” She speaks with the determination only a mother can.

You know in your heart that there’s not much you can do for her in this state, but you can do something for her child. “Push tsahìk, push.” You coax her as she experiences pain you cannot fathom.

You were there for the birth of each of your children. Alongside Mo’at, you helped deliver each one. Childbirth isn’t something new to you. But this is different.

She must have been in active labor for the entire day since you can already see the baby’s head crowning. You hold onto Ronal’s hand as she continues to push. “You’re doing great, just one more push.”

With the last bit of her strength, Ronal manages to push her baby girl out. As soon as the baby is out, you place the baby on her chest and connect their kurus. The first bond a child should experience is from their mother, and this baby girl deserves that too, regardless of the circumstances surrounding her birth.

“Thank you…Y/N, thank you.” Ronal says, completely exhausted.

“What is her name?”

Ronal removes the little baby from underneath her neck to get a good look at her. “She is Pril.”

You look down at the precious newborn resting in her mother’s embrace. “Pril is a good name.”

“You will protect her?” Ronal asks, her voice no louder than a whisper.

“Yes.” There is no waver in your voice; you will protect this baby no matter what.

It seems as though your confirmation of care was all Ronal needed before she let the eternal sleep welcome her. Her arms go limp, and you have to quickly reach over her to keep Pril from falling.

The first cries you hear from Pril is when she felt her mother die through the bond. You gently detach their kurus, and you bring Pril up to your chest so she can feel some warmth. Your heart goes out to the baby, who met and lost her mother in the span of less than two minutes. This will be the final time you allow yourself to shed a tear; your emotions are no longer your priority; this baby is.

You dump everything out of your pouch and gently place the baby inside. “Your name is Pril. Your mother was powerful; you will be powerful too.” You say as you tightly secure the pouch across your body.

“Mrs. Sully.” You hear a familiar voice call out.

Insinicively, you pick up your knife before whipping around, baring your fangs. You’re outnumbered; two Mangkwan, plus Varang and Quaritch, is a recipe for death.

“Mommy!” Tuk screams as Varang holds one of her dual blades to her neck while Quaritch holds her in place.

“Tuk!”

A/N- I'm so glad that I finally finished chapter 7. Life has been a lot lately, so finding the time and energy to write has been a struggle. To make up for the long wait, I wanted this chapter to be long and juicy. I hope it was well worth the wait~

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

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