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THOSE CAST OUT | LO’AK TE SULI TSYEYK’ITAN | PART ONE

summary: when the sullys arrive in awa’atlu there is another who doesn’t belong, skin blue but lighter than theirs and her past shrouded in mystery. tasked by ronal to keep the younger sully brother focused, your heart of stone begins to waver and the ghosts of your past continue to haunt you.

series notes: instead of 15 years time gap, this series is set 22 years after avatar— events will proceed as shown in the sequel movies. lo’ak and kiri are aged up to 21, neteyam and ao’nung are aged up to 22, tuktirey is 13 and tsireya is 20. reader is also 20. author-made clan included and woven into the avatar universe. events changed with inclusion of reader and this will have multiple parts covering ‘way of water’ & ‘fire and ash’.

word count: 8.5k

chapter warnings: reader is dealing with long-term grief, anxiety and depression in silence, lo’ak is the light at the end of the tunnel, emotional breakdowns, mild violence, description of injury (not too graphic), innocent touching, reader self-loathing, lo’ak picking up the emotional baggage, non-intimate cuddling, mention of tulkun death, reader is jealous (if you squint), reliving the past, suicide ideation and attempt, tension snapping, making out, no smut— yet, fluffy moments between reader x lo’ak.

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Everything arrived from the sky.

All the anguish in your life had been an aerial assault- this was no different. Murmurs spread fast in Awa’atlu even when hunting beyond the reef, chatter from outlying villages of the Metkayina had reached the Olo’eyktan in your hunting group. “Forest Na’vi have been spotted flying from the North.” A few hushed words to Tonowari and the party rode back with their little catch.

There was barely a chance to take in the swirled construct of the reef before you saw the grown congregation of the clan. The scout was right, five ikran perched on the sand with numerous deep blue riders. Led by Tonowari to sail overhead as your eyes focused on the unfamiliar figures below, a set of golden eyes trailed you more than the others.

You didn’t leave your skimwing— lurking in the shallows observing. Not too far away to notice golden eyes doing the exact same to you; his eyes studied you, another stranger beyond the field of teal bodies. It was true you knew segregation well— taunts thrown from your peers with the difference in physique to the reef dwellers. Your blue skin - lighter than the newcomers’ - your weaker arms and a tail that mirrored theirs, you had heard it all before.

He seemed fixated on you, even as you snaked into the water disappearing into the huts in the spiralled outcrop. His brother elbow in his rib cage, “it’s rude to stare, skxawng.”

The younger brother’s stance grew tense, “I wasn’t staring…” All the while pondering what your face looked like up-close and what you smelled like.

The hunt didn’t resume that day which is how you found yourself binding various remedies alongside the ever-stoic Tsahik. “You left swiftly when Jakesulli and his family arrived…” Your fingers continued to ground down at the herbs before stirring the liquid at boiling point at the marui’s centre. You didn’t mean to ignore her inquiry, instead you dismissed the curiosity that bloomed inside you about golden eyes and skin all-too-similar to yours. A hand hovered over yours- a rare smile from Ronal, “you do not have to worry about them, child, they are no threat to us. Tonowari and I would not grant them uturu had that been the case,” head gave a nod to her.

“It is not them I fear. It is the fire that has likely followed them,” you had seen the scorch of war and knew its scent like a second skin. Your body spoke of that truth as did your mind— a deep breath from your throat. “I’m sure Tsireya and Ao’nung will teach the children well.”

Ronal surveyed the furrow of your brows at the mention of the children, “I’m sure they could use your touch with the second son, Tsireya tells me he is absent minded. With your focus he will learn, as you did. They’re in the training shallows whenever you’re willing.” It wasn’t a request, not when it came to the woman. Your head bowed once more, finishing the vials you had started before the sun stroked your skin, the same colour as the sky overhead.

The view would never tire in your amber eyes. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” The voice rang deep in a different dialect than you were used to. Not that you minded- it was smooth and telling. One of the sons of Toruk Makto. “We never had this view in the forest, no ocean either…” A slight laugh at the end. He didn’t have a sense of duty, too relaxed in his tone.

Steps swivelled to face him— you were right. The boy who had stared far too long upon arrival, he was even more handsome to the eye at this distance. His braided hair taken back into a ponytail with his kuru, scars on his revealed body. “You must be the second son,” you were deliberate in your cold demeanour- this was an obligation not a choice that Ronal had given to you. Who were you to even teach newcomers when you were the last newcomer to Awa’atlu. “I am Y/N, your new guide.” Terse yet a slight friendliness in how you spoke to him- his stance tall enough you had to look up.

You made the mistake of eye contact. His hooded eyes held curiosity and his mouth a smile brimmed with mischief- he’d break that wall you had crafted. If you’d give him a chance to speak, “I assume that you can swim- that there were rivers in your forest?” You paced down the netting headed towards the beach.

He followed your form, “yes—.”

“— I also assume that you cannot hold your breath,” the boy was just more inquisitive about you- why were you so cold? His feet finally planted on sand, you stopped when ankle-deep in the transparent aquamarine waters.

“No.” He was not embarrassed by his answer and you did not look vexed, you simply sank further into the depths. A hand beckoned the boy to follow and so he did. You turned to face him.

You halted when waist-deep, “Okay, second-son, there are some rules. One, do not waste my time by not taking this seriously. Two, listen to what I say and do it- the waters around the village are safe but beyond the reef you are hunted by giants you cannot begin to fathom. If you break either you will return to Tsireya and Ao’nung. Understood, second-son?” That had started to irk him but he bit it down- trying to keep the promise he made to his father not to cause trouble.

“Take it seriously and follow your lead.”

It was like training one of the younglings of the Metkayina. He was not a bad swimmer, it was the breath holds that were the challenge. The pair of you bobbing on the water’s reflective surface, “you seem used to the water I would’ve thought you were Metkayina,” he kept asking you questions not associated to his training.

You weren’t as open as Tsireya or as conversational as Ao’nung, he was sure you and Neteyam would get along just fine. He knew Neteyam’s weight was from his responsibilities as the eldest sibling to the four of them, but where did yours come from? Despite his pondering you never gave him an inch of an answer. “Rule one, take it seriously… I’m not part of your training,” you had allowed him a chance to gain his breath but he was too preoccupied in thought to regain it.

He flinched at your touch under the surface, palm fixed under his ribs. The tingle of his gaze on you, shy and timid unlike how he had been acting the past few hours. You couldn’t help but meet the golden green. “Remember to breathe from here, not from here,” fingers trellised his firm chest and moved up to the stripes of his throat. Your eyes left his as quickly as they had looked. His pulse quickened beneath your touch. “Calm your heart,” he liked the kindness your voice showed. One of you palms at his chest and one at his diaphragm. “Empty your mind and feel the pull of the water, you are one with it and it is one with you. There we go, second son, now breathe deep and follow me.”

His concentration didn’t waver when your touch left him, like your shadow beneath the darkening ocean.

You eyed him— breathing better than previous attempts, able to wonder and marvel at the bioluminescence below. He was able to track your movement in the water, through the bridge of peach coral. That was the first time he had seen you smile in any form, as your mesmerising body peddled backwards to keep an eye on himself.

Eventually he had to resurface but there was no tension that could be found on your features, just a smile wide enough he would see your fangs. “That was amazing!” His expression matched your own, his eyes glowed in the sky’s blue haze.

You nodded at him, “You aren’t as absent minded as they thought. Well done.” Your body was seated more upright than his in the water. His body would be attuned to it soon. The fires from the marui were bright, your sight drawn to the beach allowing him to observe the scar running down the side of your neck past your straight jet locks. What had happened to you? “That’s training over for today, I’m sure you wouldn’t want to miss the nightly celebrations, second son.” Not stoic but plain in tone- kinder than in the afternoon.

While making the swim to the shore, “Why do you call me ‘second son’?”

“You are Toruk Makto’s second son, are you not,” It wasn’t enough for the young man at your tail, watching how your back glowed in iridescent speckles amongst the twilight waters.

His tongue clicked, “I do have a name.”

“What was the point in learning a name if you could have drowned?” You were just teasing him then, a smile cracked on both of your faces. A splash of water hit your face while looking back at him.

You laughed. He was the one to say, “You wouldn’t have let me drown.”

Shoulders shrugged as your feet met the sodden sand of shallow surf, “Only myself and Eywa know that answer,” another waft of water coated your shoulders. “If it bothers you so much, what is your name?” He stopped in front of you, frame slick and freckles resembled the stars above. Not able to help but look his way.

His eyes grounded you down from the heights you had once soared long ago, “Lo’ak from the Omatikaya clan. What clan are you from?”

That child-like spark left your expression- amber eyes became iced over once more. “Metkayina.” But he knew that wasn’t the truth. Lo’ak didn’t pry he’d let you tell him in your own time. “The next lesson is at first light. Don’t be late, second son,” about to make a retort but the words choked in his throat.

They released in a whisper— your figure dissipated up steps and into the net pathways of Awa’atlu, “It’s… Lo’ak…” With a contented smile. He knew he could wait until dawn to see you again, that didn’t mean he wanted to be patient. He sucked it down into his chest…

You had retreated to marui, chest heaved with desperation to finally breathe. It was agony being that close to him. Touching him, “He’s not Rahu…” Lo’ak didn’t even look like him, you had tried to forget what he looked like since— since that day. To quench the pain always thick on your chest. You clutched the woven material around your neck, “Control yourself. He’ll fray like the rest in time.”

Meanwhile in the Sully marui pod, Lo’ak was the last to return from his ‘training’ all with a smile on his face. His brother was the first to notice, taking in his still wet footprints dragging across the netting, “You look happy, little bro, I didn’t know you liked being bossed around so much,” he didn’t deny it, “Isn’t she the one you were staring at when we arrived?”

Lo’ak could have done something to Neteyam then and there- family meals hadn’t stopped him before, “Would you two act like adults for once? No wonder neither of you has a mate.” Neytiri and Jake let Kiri take charge as she always had with her brothers. Her face lightened with that usual wonder, hands under her chin elbows to knees. “What’s she like? We heard from Tsireya and Ao’nung that she’s tough.”

The glimmer of a smile on his lips, “Y/N definitely doesn’t mess around, my next lesson is at sunrise.” He was looking forward to seeing you again while munching on what his mother and sisters had cooked, “This is delicious…” Jake and Neytiri shared a knowing look, this was the embers of something for their son; as it had been for them twenty two years before.

They slept in a huddle in the middle of the room, like families should. While you held onto the woven blanket with dried up tears streaking a darker blue.

You awoke with the sound of waves caressing the shore, in ebbs and flows, and the peach aura that broke the horizon and into your pod. Head heavy from the night passed, quickly dressing into fresh attire and unsettling the millpond; immersed into the only thing that kept your mind at arms-length. Still able to see the stars amongst the unblemished, tealed sky, body splayed in the water open to the gentle sunlight that bounded down.

Unbeknownst to your placid thoughts you were being watched in awe from the crested sand. If you had been aware you’d imagine that look that played on his features. His pretty jaw clenched, head on a slight tilt while his wide eyes fixed on your form with timidity and his wide shoulders would be rigid, like he shouldn’t be there. Thinking you were more beautiful than any tree-chipped sunrise he had seen in the rainforest or the one that shadowed your floating form.

Only when his calves made with the waves did you sense his presence. A deep sigh came from your chest, “I did not expect you to be on time, second son,” there it was, like a shard to his confidence— your no-nonsense voice that he thought was long forgotten into the afternoon prior.

Yet Lo’ak straightened up and approached as you stood in the shallows, he managed to tower you in the water how he did on the land. His closeness was necessary but it did something; your stomach fluttered, your head reasoned with it. Until he smiled, “I’m pretty sure you would’ve skinned me alive,” he was right in his assumption.

You didn’t smile, lips brought into a line and jaw taut, reminding yourself that this wasn’t the man you held dear back home. Lo’ak was not Rahu. He listened at the noises he recognised as animal calls, like they used on the ikran. This was different, sweeter sounds as you looked into the water. You seemed pleased and stopped.

A head popped out of the water, kinder than the ikran he had grown up around. He could look these creatures in the eye. He had absconded from training before they could be shown by Tsireya and Ao’nung. Though he had seen them when exploring the village.

Your palms handled the creature with adoration and delicacy, “This is an ilu. They do not bond for life like the ikran you fly with,” he sidled beside your figure, almost scared to touch the ilu. By reflex, your fingers barely there when cupped to the back of his hand until it settled on soft flesh. His face lit up like a child and you could not help but watch his face. “This is Fawi. Even though bonds aren’t specific she’s my favourite, her nature is calm, loyal and above all mischievous. I think she will match you well.” He finally found the orange glow of your eyes, how you spoke in adoration of nature. As you had the day before.

Lo’ak liked that… when your soul seemed to find peace in the world around you. Seemingly away from others. It was like a mirror image of himself, vying to belong and creating distance when unable to conform. “She’s beautiful…” He wasn’t looking at the ilu, a blush hidden on your cheeks.

Turned away from him, fastening the saddle onto Fawi. Even she felt it, a splash from her fin onto you both. Lo’ak swore he was blinded by that smile and floored by how your laugh sounded like atokirina on the wind. “Did I mention she’s cheeky?” You beckoned him to mount, he followed your lead and was settled into Fawi’s seat. “Okay, this isn’t like flying an ikran. Water is denser than air so when she takes you under you have to flow like the current. Fawi is a great guide,” Lo’ak traced the shape of your lips without touch— in deep thought while still listening to your every word, “trust her and she will become your best friend in the water.” You held Fawi as Lo’ak made the bond, hand stroked against her neck as both their pupils dilated.

His gaze landed straight on you— he had seen your connection with Fawi and how you had taught the reef children how to make the bond; your overwhelming kindness. “You alright?” A dazed nod. “Regain your senses and remember to hold on.” Lo’ak drew his breath in- how you had taught him - before he charged forward on the navy and sunflower back of Fawi.

You watched him beneath the surface, the sand collected in their wake— the mess of Lo’ak’s limbs as he was torn off the ilu. You had learned how to stifle your laughs from your countless lessons with the Metkayina young. Simply wading over to him— collecting Fawi with the same calls as before. “How was that?” Not able to help the glee in your tone.

His ears were pinned back, mortified that he could not achieve what he knew children did, “Let’s go again.” His fist clenched, not at Fawi or you. He was always a failure. Never as good as Neteyam. Never as smart as Kiri. Never as innocent as Tuk.

The self damnation torn by a hand on his back, “You are used to the sky not to the sea, it’s just different. We all have to begin somewhere, you’ll get the hang of it.”

He got it the second time, just as his siblings entered the water with Ao’nung and Tsireya. Their claps echoed off the tree roots and he could hear them below the water. Palms held your shoulders, “I was right to tell my mother that you’d get him to focus,” you could feel her smile behind you.

“Oh, so it was you who volunteered me…” Tsireya and Ao’nung had expected an explosion from you— some type of quiet anger that no one had ever bore witness— however you just smiled. “He’s a quick learner and will adapt well to your ways—,”

“— our ways, you always forget you are one of us.”

Her brother gave a nod, “It’s always been annoying how better you are at hunting…” Spoken with gritted teeth with fake emotion behind it. They were like your brother and sister; you had needed that when you arrived at Awa’atlu those four years ago. Your head turned subconsciously to where Lo’ak and his older brother stood in conversation. Eyes traced over the younger brother’s figure, how his armband flexed around his strong bicep, how his braids framed the sides of his face. From afar it didn’t feel as condemnable until the boy waved at you with a grin splayed on his lips.

The reef siblings looked at one another— the all-too-knowing glance. They had never seen you like that with eyes on another Na’vi instead of the natural beauty around you.

Yours and Lo’ak’s lessons joined with Tsireya’s and Ao’nung’s. The day consisted of free diving, breathing techniques and ilu riding around the reef. It was nice having new people around your own age… those who didn’t whisper tall tales about you and how you came to be in their home.

Over the days that passed, you taught Kiri the creatures and plants of the reef, made Tuk feel comfortable to ride an ilu without someone else at the helm, Neteyam on how to hold onto a tsurak… and, Lo’ak, he continued not to learn from the others despite being well and capable— gravitating toward your gentle hands and calm eyes for instruction.

It was peaceful on the reef until Ao’nung and his skxawng friends ruined it. Kiri’s behaviour was far from weird in your opinion because you had been just the same when you arrived but to those that had taken it for granted— it was quite the opposite. You found them in the shallows, a bundle of turquoise and cerulean with red bloodied on everyone’s face but Kiri.

Lo’ak had hold of Ao’nung’s ear, Neteyam atop one of the others while the remaining two dragged the younger by his tail. You ran without hesitation over to the brawl, “Boys…” No response— you cleared your throat and whistled in high-pitch, “Boys! Break. It. Up!” Lo’ak looked up straight at you, ears tucked back. Your face flinched at his marred one. “Go back to your pods before I tell your parents what their adult sons were doing!” If the newcomers didn’t know better they wouldn’t believe you were their own age.

The reef group scarpered not before you grabbed Ao’nung by the arm, “You should know better…” He did not appreciate that especially when he knew it to be right. Your attention turned towards the brothers. Lo’ak wore more bruises and scrapes than Neteyam— he must have instigated it. “With me, second son. I’ll make sure you don’t beat up a tree on the way,” his brother and sister laughed while you remained stoic, helping him to his feet.

You didn’t force him to follow but he did anyway. All the way to your kelku. It reminded him of their own in the forest- natural remedies in woven reed baskets and curtain draped to keep the warmth in when the nights are cold. You motioned him to sit down, “Just get on with it, tell me how I’m a ’disappointment’. I’ve heard it all before from my dad,” his head turned away. Fingers held his chin like a ghost— too gentle he didn’t deserve it. “What are you doing?” A damp cloth coated in salve brought to his brow, cleansing the mark that blemished his perfect skin.

Gold watched you with attentiveness, following your touch to his busted lip, washing the scarlet away. Lingering there for a second too long as did your tawny stare. You had to remind yourself, ‘he’s not him’, turning attention to his scuffed arms. Touch once again prolonged on solid flesh.

It was electric for Lo’ak whenever your skin touched his, the urge to put his hand on yours… but it remained on his thigh.

You broke the looming silence. “What happened back there? I thought you and Ao’nung were friends,” Sat opposite him in the confines of your pod.

“He was calling Kiri a ‘freak’ and kept talking about our hands… I couldn’t take it.” His posture slumped but shoulders and jaws grew tense. Looking at his five fingered hands— you didn’t think they were grotesque, “It was never like this back home.” Your hand rested on the one atop his thigh.

“I know it feels like it will never stop. That you’ll never be accepted for things you cannot and should not have to change,” Lo’ak was too close. “My hands might not be scrutinised but I understand what it’s like to be forced to find a new home because of war and to be surrounded by people who think of you as an outsider.” The moment grew too intimate as he looked at you like you were Eywa herself. His presence remained too close, your hand left his before you stood up to your feet.

Before you couldn’t take the tension any more.

Lo’ak seemed to get the message,“Thank you for everything. You’re a lifesaver,” a shy smile on his handsome face. The familiarity had begun to shift and that guilt still trampled over you as he slipped past the confines of your mauri.

Your chest victim to pressure. “What are you doing?” Spoken to yourself in shame. Flicker of his eyes from his first free dive to when he didn’t wipe out on Fawi… there was no shift in how his gaze followed you. You couldn’t feel for him like you burned to.

You buried it. In the deepest crevice of your heart, you would forget how you felt for the second son of Toruk Makto. You had to.

That afternoon you filled the gap of Ao’nung with training the Sully children— a mercy that Lo’ak was missing from the session. You rode along the reef with Tuk and Kiri, while Neteyam grew on edge with the absence of his brother as the sky changed colour. “He’s never gone for this long, we’ve covered nearly all of reef…” His stern eyes surveyed the orange horizon.

Your hand on his shoulder, “The reef stretches further than you think,” you knew the responsibilities he carried as the eldest— the one to protect the younger siblings from themselves and harm around them. “I saw Ao’nung earlier, maybe he’s seen him.”

You let Neteyam go on his own, mainly because Tuk wanted to race around the reef while it was lit up in the night’s broad darkness. “You let me beat you!”

“I did not!” You had. It was worth the smile on her face— it reminded you of your own little sister with her wooden figures in tow. She never got to meet an ilu but you imagined she would love them as Tuktirey did.

You made sure she reached her marui safely, she was speaking as you approached the lit up docking point, “You’re more fun than Ao’nung, can you teach us tomorrow instead?” You smiled and ruffled her braids, like a teenager she squirmed.

“I’ll see what I can do, little one, I’ll teach you how to get sharper turns,” As thick as thieves.

“What have you been up to, kiddo?” Your ears pinned back at the unknown voice; Toruk Makto.

The wind traders had shared his tales with your clan- how he united the forest clans against the sky people to victory. As you looked up at him, the ‘great one’ looked nothing more than a normal Omatikaya with four fingers instead of three; like his son and daughter. “Y/N took me ilu riding around the reef, it’s so pretty at night, dad,” she hopped onto the woven dock that Kiri and her father sat.

His arms crossed, “So this is the famous Y/N… my kids won’t shut up about you. You’re all we hear about,”

“Especially from Lo’ak…” Kiri mumbled, she had left earlier with a heavy mind. You pretended as if you hadn’t heard his name—your smile remained quaint while nails gritted against your palms.

The sight of Ao’nung being pushed along by Neteyam would never not be amusing, “Tell him what you told me.” A command from the eldest son, what had the skxawng done now.

You didn’t join the search party, there had been no need as he swam in. You lingered far in the crowd until you knew he was safe, a few cuts and bruises but he was not dead. Leaving the hustle and bustle of Metkayina, only for him to see your back as he took the scolding from his father. Remembering the direction you had taken and he bolted in your footsteps.

There was no way you could sleep, thoughts running like river rapids. Your body knew how to follow wisdom, that’s what had your brain wracking. “Y/N!” You ignored him, calling Fawi before diving into the depths.

You only went to calm those treacherous nerves, to make sure he wasn’t mortally wounded by the horrors that lurked outside the shallows. Like his father said it was only minor.

In the bitter haze you found yourself at Three Brother’s Rocks. Setting up a little fire for yourself on the beach with flammable plants in the caves you knew well from foraging. Fawi swam in the shallows, away from reasonable danger.

Always finding yourself there when the body aches became too much— ever since you joined Metkayina. The caves reminded you of home, its cliffs and outcrops. Knee deep in the crystalline water your eyes focused on the twinkles above, falling to the sky-consuming Naranawn ‘The Great Eye’. The first trickle down your face and the many the followed until you wailed into the barren ocean.

You hated to feel— to breathe while those you loved laid forgotten by everyone and the Great Mother had left you alone to remember them. An outcast even when respected by some in your new clan and spurned by the rest. The silence filled with your soft hums of the song your mother used to sing during celebrations, it haunted your best dreams. You weren’t gifted such luxuries in the nightmares.

A familiar sound vibrated the water— the hums sang along with you in the darkness. Your body drew deeper until tough skin levelled you out of the water completely. “Hello, little flower,” water chipped up and she rumbled beneath you, “Okay. Not such a little flower.” Caressing the top of her armoured skin, before you slipped down to her eye level.

‘You’ve been busy, sister.’

You signed and spoke to her, “I was teaching new arrivals in the village.” The creature wasn’t dumb which you knew too well.

‘Any boys?’ Your face failed you, ‘You are not happy… you met a boy you should be happy…’

Your frame fell flat on the left small fin, “I can never be happy. I punish myself for living and I’ve seen that in your heart too,” Absentmindedly stroking the tulkun under her eye, “I cannot risk feeling for him, he’ll be ripped away like the rest. Or runaway from me- whatever happens first.”

Lo’ak had followed you— had heard your sweet song and why you had run away from him. It had only been a week and he wanted to know everything about you but you hadn’t given him an inch.

He backed away to watch how your body moved in tune with the tulkun, your face bright when you laughed and the affection you showed alongside your spirit sister.

The gentle creature seemed distracted when you spoke, “what is it, Paysyul?”

‘Someone is watching us, sister,’ eyes rolling at his figure over the water.

“I know you’re there, Lo’ak!” You heard Paysyul chuckle at you before vanishing with ethereal glow below the waters surface. “Get over here!” The waters were more dangerous as night, beckoning him into the shallow cove.

He didn’t expect a warm welcome after he had followed you there, face written with guilt that he got caught not that he did it. “What are you doing here?” You flipped out, “I can’t believe you! You skxawng, you reckless idiotic skxawng!” He took it, the pain in your eyes made him.

Then you hissed and lunged for him stopping just in front of him. Looking up at him, eyes bloodshot, pupils flared and agitated. You lingered there, searching his eyes while yours welled up. He caught you before your knees bound with rock, he sank you down with control.

His hand cupped the back of your head, pressed against his chest. Able to hear how his heartbeat raced, “You have a strong heart,” hot breath against his skin. Your arms linked around his waist, warming his shivering body. They lost strength after a few minutes as your legs sagged onto the rocks.

“Y/N?” His voice low, no response just a quiet hum. A smile grew on Lo’ak’s lips, he rubbed your back before lifting you off the jagged floor. Knees secured under his flexed arm and top half cradled against him. Your campfire not yet smothered in the cave, a small bed roll laid out beside it with more flammable moss. You were laid down onto the material, a stray hair brushed behind your ear.

He moved to tend the fire when your hand caught his ankle weakly, “Don’t leave me. Please.” He sank down and threw some moss onto the fire while your hand never left his leg. Not until he was laid behind you turning around the opposite way.

Throughout the night your body started to shake, teeth chattering. Lo’ak couldn’t take it, his body wrapped around yours and in a few moments all of the movement stopped and your winces turned to soft breaths.

Lo’ak knew you wouldn’t remember anything in the morning. So while you let him, he’d hold your sleeping figure as he fell into his own slumber.

The first thing you noticed was the crackle of embers, the second was the arm draped around your waist, your hand looped in his. The memories flickered through from the previous night… carried by his strength alone, cradled against a warm body for the first time in… a long time.

It felt selfish to remain there, but you didn’t break out of Lo’ak’s grasp— listening to the way his breathing synched with yours and feeling the thrum of his heart against you. It was dangerous— he was dangerous for you. That is what you had told yourself when you met. But the second son was all you could think about. For that moment you sank further in his reach, your mind too weary to care

Lo’ak was awake as you stirred, his pulse skipped a beat as you fell closer into his chest. “Hey… you okay?” His voice was always so gentle to you compared to how he spoke when Neteyam teased him or during the fight with Ao’nung. He treated you with kind care.

He could have sworn you shivered so he held you closer, “What are you still doing here?” His ear flipped down.

You remembered, “You asked me to stay, so I did.” He gave you the chance to leave, loosening his warm touch.

You made some distance but only to turn to see him. His face adorned new marks from whatever attacked him in the waters outside the cave. His eyes looked in every direction but your own gaze, “Lo’ak,” his eyes bore into yours for the first time that morning. Your thumb ghosted over the purple marks on his cheek and up to the reopened cut on his eyebrow. “I’m glad you’re safe.”

The calls of the ilu broke the tension and the real world called, you wasted no time in feeding Fawi and Lo’ak’s ilu alike. He joined you, able to see the bodily scrapes from the coral bed as you both rested on the rock formations. “What happened yesterday?”

He turned to face you. He explained that Ao’nung had taken him out there and simply abandoned him in the open ocean, a massive fish attacked him and as he was drowning a tulkun came out of nowhere and saved him. “Was the right front fin missing?” Thinking it could have been Paysyul.

But his braids shook, “No, half of its left.”

A smile on your face, “Payakan. His name is Payakan.” It was like you were speaking about an old friend, “My spirit sister, Paysyul, she speaks of him often. They were both cast out by the other tulkun tribes who call them ‘outcasts’ because they fought back against the sky people who slaughtered their tribes. Paysyul lost her mother, sisters, nieces and nephews when she was only a juvenile,” he could tell you were speaking from your own experience, not from Paysyul’s. “But she fought back like a warrior and survived, which is not the ‘tulkun way’… they think her and Payakan are ‘murderers’… but they are fighters.”

The hums from last night echoed onto the horizon, your ears flicked forward as did Lo’ak’s. It was not just one tulkun, but two. Lo’ak rushed into the water with you, “Payakan!” A pleased sound from the young bull while you danced with Paysyul. Lo’ak couldn’t keep his eyes off of you and when you finally looked at him with all the glee in the world, he turned away with blush on his blue skin.

He didn’t understand what Payakan said in the tulkun language, “He’s teasing you,” you laughed, “He says ‘you are blushing, my friend’.”

You introduced Lo’ak to Paysyul— teaching him on the spot sign language, “It is an honour to meet you, Paysyul.”

‘You never told me he was so polite,’ you didn’t translate that. ‘He seems to have improved your mood last night,” or that.

You signed back, ‘We did not do anything, I met him a week ago, trust you to only think about that. What about you and Payakan?’ She dunked you with her larger fins, as you laughed.

“What were you talking about?”

“She thinks you’re polite, I told her she is a poor judge of character,” said in pure jest, the glimmer in his eyes vivid.

While the pair got used to one another, you sidled up to Payakan. “My sister speaks of you often, Payakan, it is nice to meet you,”

He was a gentle giant, bigger than Paysyul but had the same kind eyes, ‘Your sister speaks of your kindness, as a calf and when you met again,’ your hands found beneath his eye, ‘Lo’ak also spoke your name yesterday when unconscious.’ Heat in your cheeks.

Your head leaned against the tulkun, in a whisper, “Thank you… for saving his life.”

‘He is lucky to have you…’ Your heart hurt because even they could see it. That something wavered between you and Lo’ak.

Back at the reef, you saw the spectacle in front of you. Lo’ak being scorned once again by his father inside their marui. Your jaw clenched, “May I come in?” His mother’s stare was fierce, as was Toruk Makto’s.

“Now isn’t a good time, Y/N,” Neytiri’s ears softened at your name— the one the kids spoke of with such adoration and respect. She took in your appearance, not Metkayina born and she recognised the brandish on your bare arm and the material used in your armband…

She watched and observed you, “Forgive me but I suggested going back out to the reef last night. If Lo’ak is to become a hunter here, he must learn in open water.” Lo’ak’s eyebrows knitted together as he looked at you. “Please forgive me, the blame is all mine.” You bowed.

A drawn out sigh on from his father, “You don’t have to do that, Y/N, please stand up.” You did just that, “Let us know if he causes you any trouble.”

Your lips taut into a small smile, “That will not be the case. He’s a fast learner and will be a valuable member of the Metkayina,” the parents saw that shared look between yourself and their son. Infatuation.

“I owe you one,” His stride beside yours beneath the mangroves.

Your shoulders shrugged, “I wasn’t lying back there. You will make a great hunter,” a second later, “but don’t let it go to your head.” You continued down to the tsurak pen.

Lo’ak watched in awe as the creature circled around you before its head reared upwards for affection, he zoned in on your wide smile, “Has someone missed me?” A sound from the pronged jaw had him flinch. “He won’t harm you not while I’m here…” Mischief in your tone and gaze, his taut shoulders could relax, “Tsurak do not bond with ease but when they do, they will sacrifice their life for yours.” You brought his hand to the male tsurak’s side, the creature grumbled until it got used to his presence.

He was wary but that was natural, “I guess this won’t be like the ilu…” Your head shook.

“If I hated you, yes,” he liked to hear your laugh, it made him smile even if he didn’t realise, “but seeing as you’re our guest I’ll make an exception.” Instead you tossed your leg over the saddled spine like it was second nature, shushing the irritable tsurak as your hand ran up its forehead.

Making the bond, “When you do this, not for another week, I’ll need extra hands during the first bond. Hand position is the same as the ilu but tighten your grip,” demonstrating the actions as you spoke, “the same principles as ikran riding above the water but when you dive, feel and align with the tsurak’s movements. Maintain good balance when you hit the water and remain calm. Watch me closely beneath the surface,” with a deep breath you rode out on the beastly animal, Lo’ak’s intense stare studied how fluid your body moved with the tsurak. No spoken commands before the splashed dive, chest flush with its body and legs hooked either side like anchors.

He broke the stare, head out of the shallows, heat spread across his face. He liked to think he was close to you but how acquainted could he get to someone who never wanted to spend time with him in the first place.

That inbuilt attraction lingered as you reemerged, returning to where he stood. How could he ever live in Awa’atlu knowing you would never be his… not without a miracle performed by Eywa herself.

It progressed worse with time, over the next two months. You both met with Payakan and Paysyul at Three Brothers Rocks in secrecy, he would be captivated as you sang songs with your sister tulkun and Lo’ak grew to learn the words.

His hands would linger on the small of your back when gliding in the water, holding you against him sometimes. His face would grow too close when you both laughed or were free diving. His eyes had grown too familiar for your mind to rationalise the growing feelings that hollowed out your chest.

When he bonded properly with the tsurak, it became overwhelming. Heaved breathes from his accomplishment and your celebration, your hands rested on his biceps and your waist clutched in his fingers.

Able to feel Lo’ak’s breath against the bow of your lips and the gold of his eyes too intrusive, laying you bare to his touch…

Until you pulled away, “Who knew you had it in you, forest boy?”

The moment severed further by Tsireya, “You actually did it!” You shouldn’t have let that twinge of envy spike but it did. How could it not with her beautiful face, hair full of flowing curls and her movements the image of grace.

“We’re going to the Cove of the Ancestors, if you wanted to—,”

“— I’ll remain here,”

“Y/N, please… you haven’t been there since you got here—,”

“— No, Tsireya. You know I can’t go there.” Your hair swayed beneath your movements, finding a secluded part of the beach.

You hadn’t noticed the footsteps as they appproached, “Lo’ak I don’t want to talk about it,” You turned and it wasn’t him.

It was his mother, you didn’t know what to say to her— how to address the equally fierce mate of Toruk Makto. She observed the marking again, scarred on your right forearm. “I have waited years to see that mark again. To see your people.”

This was not a conversation you wanted to endure, “I don’t know what you mean…” toes dipped into the clear shallow sands.

Her presence ushered closer, “You are no skxawng, child, so stop pretending,” she was kind and voice nurturing. “The clan who wore this mark used to visit the Omatikaya on the mighty slotsyal they bonded with. Until they were wiped out by an eruption—,”

“— It wasn’t the Great Mother’s hand that wiped my people out,” cursed through gritted teeth, “our sister clan had never recovered from when the mountain split and fires consumed their forest. Many died, their tsahik with them… we provided resources and extra hands to rebuild but we could not repair the damaged minds that remained. Their olo’eyktan was dethroned by his own daughter, Varang. Within a few days my own village burst into flames. The people burned, our hometree reduced to cinders and the warriors that fought weren’t enough… I wasn’t enough to stop them…”

There was no pity in the woman’s eyes only understanding, “The Txon’ong’are people live in you now, child. As Eywa wills it.”

“If Eywa cared… the mountain wouldn’t have crumbled and my family… my family wouldn’t have died and my home wouldn’t be scorch-marks on barren stone,” it was the first time actually admitting it, Eywa would have protected your people if she had given a damn about those in her lands. Neytiri watched as you disappeared into the water, aware of how your bones ached and heart weighed heavier with every second.

That was a distance you kept after that day— you aided the Tsahik with Kiri after her seizure. When Lo’ak spoke you acted as though you hadn’t heard. Maintaining that divide for a month, making salves and remedies in a hut only Ronal knew about.

It was necessary; they’d forget you ever existed.

The only place you could breathe was the deepest part of the reef. Sat on the sandy floor in a meditation. That is why you didn’t speak of your home— forgetting you ever had one before Metkayina.

No one would notice if you disappeared… what if you stayed on that ocean floor and never returned…

When your lungs ached for breath, you remained there like part of the reef. No Paysyul to stop you this time, no Eywa to send a blessing your way and no family to care.

Your arms spread out and back flat against the sand as the convulsions echoed throughout your body. Breathless and senseless.

Allowing the water to swallow you whole.

You were in Her embrace.

Calm swept over you for the first time in four years.

Immediately recognising where you were… your true kelku in the heart of the home tree you had seen burn. The fresh fruit and salt cast from the sea scented the air as it always had. Transparent cloth draped around the room, your mother’s baskets of herbs settled in the corner and your father’s spear hung where it always would be. Your sister’s wooden figures splayed messily on the floor— she never had been able to clean up. “We never thought we’d see you here so soon,” Of course it was him, the one who plagued your memories. You didn’t bolt towards him like you thought you would, his hand braced your shoulder. “I can’t tease you now, you’re taller than me…”

You couldn’t help but sob, he had always been taller. Always back to when you first met as children and had grown. He still looked like he was sixteen, not aged a single day since he was taken away from you. “Don’t cry, paskalin, I always hated when you cried.” Stroking your hair with hands you thought you’d never feel again.

”How can I not cry, Rahu?”

He shushed you gently, “It is not your time yet… why are you here, Y/N?” Of course Rahu knew, Eywa saw everything. “There is no need to torture yourself… you deserve happiness not self-murder. After everything you have been through you deserve peace.” It made the guilt run deeper, since he could see all and could experience the feelings that grew for the second son of Toruk Makto.

A kiss to your knuckles, “If I could choose anyone to guard your heart it would be Lo’ak,” The grief in your eyes when he said his name, “He brought that smile back— the one that lit rooms back home — and I will be forever grateful for that. As are they…”

Chatter from behind you that had the streams course down your face. Bringing them into a crushing hug; like old times. “Sa’nu, sempu!” A tap at your shoulder.

It broke something in you.

Age had not scorned Tirea in the arms of Eywa. Forever eight years old— she probably loved that. She could play with her wooden figures all night and day. “Little parultsyìp…” Holding her in the air as you always had, giving her a spin. Over her shoulder stood your family, “Ma swapxì…” In the golden haze of the All Mother you still felt like something was missing, like you were not meant to be there. Not without…

”You must return now, ma’ite,” Your forehead connected to your mother’s. “You have a life to live… for us and everyone from the village… for Snatanhì, too…” The mention of that name drove the wedge deeper. You had lost everyone you had ever cared about in one fell swoop four years prior.

Your father, “Do not dwell on the past, Y/N, look to your future. Your bright future at Metkayina.”

Tirea beneath hugged your leg, “When you have little ones, don’t forget to let us meet them…”

And finally the former flame of your mending heart, “He has our blessing. Be happy with him and don’t you dare feel guilty.” A kiss to your temple and too many arms circled around you.

“I will love you all. Always.” The connection wavered and a newfound sense of clarity rolled over your body.

Snapped awake to the frantic pressure on your chest and jagged breathing you recognised. “Come on!” It sounded urgent— the shout bit down the tears, “Come on, Y/N, stay with me…” Your eyes wide open and the water pooled in your lungs spluttered up, his arm guided you to sit forward on the sodden sand.

The look on his face unreadable, tears streaked his cheeks as he held you there. Just looking at you like you could vanish at any moment. His other hand settled at your cheek, his thumb drew circles. “I thought I lost you,” that is why you did it, so you would forget how he looked at you and how that made you feel.

“Lo’ak…” He could tell you were scared; to feel anything other than emptiness. He knew the notion. A braid brushed away from your face— how many times had you allowed him to do that, guilt would eat at you whenever he did. When you thought about the warmth of his lips against yours and his touch on your body.

In the haze of night he was even more intoxicating to ignore. You’d memorise his silhouette; the curve of his nose and the dip of his lips in that twinkling glow.

His thumb ran along your bottom lip, “I know you’re fighting with the past, that your head feels too loud… but you don’t need to push me away. Let me be there to help…”

The tears dragged down on their own, swept away by his thumb as they ran. The only place to look was the gold of his eyes. “Why does everything about you draw me in?” Only able to curse your feelings. “I tried to hate you, Lo’ak,” his nose brushed against yours. Unable to mask your fleeting heartbeat in the heavy gaze of his eyes.

The tension snapped.

Angled up as his kiss devoured you. Your hands traced from his chest, to his shoulders and up to where his hair met his nape. Bringing yourself onto your knees, Lo’ak’s fingers gripped your waist dragging you further against his sturdy build. Not breaking the sequence of flipped kisses, both trying to make the most of that moment.

Breaking apart to ease the tightness in your chests, foreheads fell against one another, the bridge of his nose lapped yours in affection that felt natural. “Oel ngati kameie,” Souls connected through the joint gaze, nose nudging yours again.

Taking in the flickers of light on his skin, “Oel ngati kameie.” Pulling him back down onto your lips.