Birthright | Mangkwan Jake Sully
This is a part of my Mangkwan! Jake AU! You can read their origin story here.
Jealousy in June Prompts: 7. “Touch her and you die”
Word count: 1.7k
Pairing: Ash Na'vi!Jake Sully x wife!reader
Description: A visitor comes to ask the Omatikaya for an alliance, but Jake Sully would never honor an agreement with the fool that dares to touch what is his.
Content Warnings: AU where the Omatikaya turn into Ash Na'vi as well. Talk of killing, Neteyam and Lo'ak are little heathens, reader is pregnant with Tuk, probably OOC Wukula bc I've never played the game before.
Author's note: Based on this request by @yukiyuribot!
“Touch her and you die,” a gravelly voice came from behind Wukula.
Your lips rolled up into an excited smile at the sound of your mate. The Mangkwan warrior’s brow jumped, his hand freezing in the air over the spot where you had just suggested he feel for a kick from your unborn child. He cocked his head to the side, looking at you in the realization he had been set up for the sake of your own twisted fantasy.
“I promise a slow death, Mangkwan,” Jake growled low and quiet.
Wukula dragged his eyes from you and looked over his shoulder, gaze alight with mischief, even though he had been played. It looked like he enjoyed the game just like you did. “I meant no offense, Olo’eyktan.” Wukula lowered his hand to his side and stepped back from you.
You watched in fascination as the fire cast a red glow over one side of Jake’s face, covering the opposite side in darkness. “Don’t touch what isn’t yours.”
Wukula nodded, his hands held out to his sides in a sort of surrender as he backed away even more. “Of course not, Jake Suli. My apologies.” You circled around Wukula, letting your hips sway as you slid past Jake to stand on his other side.
“What would you do if someone touched your Tsahik while she was swollen with child?” Jake asked, the tilt to his head a clear indicator of his agitation. You peered over his shoulder, letting your hands travel over the tense expanse of his back in silent support and delighting in the way he reacted to your touch.
“I would cut them from ear to ear,” Wukula answered honestly.
“Then imagine what I would do to you if you had touched her,” Jake threatened.
“Far worse from what I’m told,” Wukula smiled wickedly. “That is why Varang sent me to you. She wishes to forge a friendship against our mutual enemies.”
Jake’s eyebrows lowered. “Which enemies? The uniting bands to the south? The Eastern tribes that you pissed off with all your raiding? Or our true enemy, the skypeople that still ravage our lands and take from our ground? The Omatikaya have only one true enemy,” Jake asked critically, head tilted as he evaluated Wukula’s answer.
Wukula narrowed his eyes, “The Mangkwan have no quarrels with the skypeople, it is the other Na’vi clans that pose our problems.”
Jake shook his head, “There will come a day when the skypeople will come for you too,” he promised.
“Even so, that day has not yet come and our enemies rally against us now. They are angry that we do not worship their goddess. They oppress us for living the way of life that our tribes share,” Wukula corrected, his tone betraying his discontentment at having to argue and being questioned. Something told you that he was not used to that.
“No, they oppress you because you burn their villages and rape their women. Just as you have no quarrel with the skypeople, we have no quarrel with the other Na’vi clans. We have no mutual enemies,” Jake corrected.
Wukula was not discouraged by this, he pressed on. “Then that just means that one day, you will need us, and we will need you, Olo’eyktan. A friend to call on in times of trouble.”
“And you planned to start that friendship by touching my mate?” Jake sneered, shifting his weight to one side and slightly bending his knee in a casual show of dominance that made your own knees weak. He was not worried, he did not fear Wukula or the Mangkwan. He would burn the world for you. It was undoubtable. That was power.
“I did not mean-” Wukula was cut off by Jake scoffing.
A set of two footsteps outside the tent made both you and Jake’s ears perk up at the sound. You exchanged a look and Jake grinned and called, “Neteyam, Lo’ak!” From just outside, two young boys of the ages of 8 and 7 came through the tent opening. Your heart softened at seeing their little faces, looking so much like both of their parents, and you smiled encouragingly when they glanced over at you.
“Come ’ere, boys,” Jake commanded and both of your sons diligently came to stand in front of him. Black, gray, and red paint slathered over nearly every inch of their skin. It protected them from the harsh sun, but it also created a fearsome image, especially with the added accessories made from small animal bones, feathers, and even a piercing in Neteyam's case. He had been begging for one for months so he could match you and Jake, and Jake had finally relented to one on each of his ear lobes.
Wukula’s brow raised and he looked confused.
Jake brought his hands to each of their shoulders, “This man is from the Mangkwan. What do we know of them?”
Neteyam eyed Wukula analytically. “They are raiders that attack villages and the wind traders. They take resources and leave little else,” your oldest answered.
“Good, ‘teyam. Lo’ak, what else?” you asked from Jake’s side.
Your youngest looked up to you. “They enslave or kill Na’vi. They are led by a Tsahik called Varang.”
“Exactly, but do they attack tawtutes (humans)?” Jake asked.
“No, only Na’vi,” Lo’ak answered. “We are the only ones to defend Pandora against the demons.”
“This man thinks the Omatikaya should come to the aid of the Mangkwan whenever they need us to. What does that tell you?” Jake pushed more. Wukula’s jaw was clenched so tightly, that it looked as if his teeth might break.
“If they rely on others to come save them, then they are weak,” Lo’ak answered.
“And what do we do with the weak?” Jake asked, eyes sparkling as he looked at Wukula, evidently amused.
“We kill them. A diseased limb must be cut off the body to prevent it from polluting the rest. The weakness of one is the weakness of all,” Neteyam surmised.
“Very good,” Jake nodded, pleased with his well trained boys. Neteyam and Lo’ak both stood taller at their father’s praise, grinning smugly to themselves.
“Can I please help you kill him, Sempul (father)? I did all my chores and I have been very good this week,” Neteyam begged and Wukula reared his head back in shock at the question,
“I can help too!” Lo’ak added, perking up at the prospect. “Please, Sempul!”
Jake patted their shoulders, “I’m afraid not, boys. This man needs to go back to his village so he can tell his Tsahik our answer.”
“Aw,” both of your sons sighed.
“I know you are disappointed,” you cooed, opening your arms wide for them to step into. “Come here,” you beckoned. Jake’s hands slid off of their shoulders as they diligently followed instructions and came to join you.
“See, even a child knows what a foolish errand this was, Wukula,” Jake said.
Wukula growled, hand flying to the blade at his side. Jake jolted forward, quickly putting you and the boys directly behind him. Your hand held your pregnant belly protectively as Neteyam let out a hiss at the threat to his family. You were proud of its clarity of sound. He would make a fearsome warrior someday.
“You have insulted the Mangkwan one too many times, Jake Suli,” Wukula said through his teeth.
“And do you know why I can do that?” Jake asked, a mischievous glint to his eye that made you feel safe, even as Lo’ak and Neteyam watched wide eyed behind you. “Because before you could even draw your blade, my mate would call in the thirty some warriors around camp right now. You wouldn't be able to kill me in the time it takes for them to come. In fact, I could probably kill you in that time. You’re good, Wukula, you’re very good, but you don't have two young children and a pregnant wife to protect, and that makes me much more dangerous than you.”
Wukula snarled, knowing Jake was right. “Go back to your Tsahik and tell her what was said today. Don’t look for help here, Mangkwan,” Jake demanded, stepping away from the door and directly shielding you and the boys from Wukula.
From around Jake’s broad back, you could see Wukula grimace and say, “This is not over, Jake Suli.” Jake’s posture grew rigid before Wukula stalked through the tent flaps and outside to his ikran.
Jake's shoulders relax slightly now that his opponent was gone from his sight. “You did so good, baby. So brave,” you muttered, snaking your hands up his arms and resting your chin on his shoulder.
Jake glanced back at you. “He didn't hurt you?” he asked.
“He did not lay a finger on me, ma Jake. I am yours only,” you assured him.
Jake nodded, “Good. I’m yours, baby.”
“Sempul! You reminded him who was Olo’eyktan!” Lo’ak grinned, interrupting you and Jake, but you could never be mad at your baby boy for long.
Jake smiled back, kneeling down to be at eye level with his boys.
“Yeah! He was so scared of us!” Neteyam agreed.
“You boys did a good job protecting your mama today,” Jake complimented them.
“Thanks dad! Just like you taught me,” Neteyam smiled, letting out another little hiss.
Jake laughed softly at the cute sound. “Mighty Neteyam, warrior prince of the Omatikaya. Wukula stands no chance against you,” he said.
Neteyam smiled smugly as Lo’ak asked, “What about me?”
“Not you, you’re too little!” Neteyam rejected.
“Lo’ak may be younger than you, but that makes him no less terrifying,” you corrected.
“That’s right. Let’s see your hiss, little man,” Jake encouraged his youngest.
“Okay,” Lo’ak let out a long and flat hiss that sounded only slightly weaker than Neteyam’s, but even cuter.
“Very scary. The fearsome Lo’ak, Son of Toruk Makto and slayer of demons,” Jake came up with a title of Lo’ak’s very own and he beamed at the name.
“I will kill many demons too,” Neteyam added, not happy with the shifting of attention.
“Together, you two will kill them all. They will shake at hearing your names,” you nodded with a wide smile. “It’s what you were born to do.”
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