Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The Hallelujah Mountains

“Toruk Makto will disappear.”

Those words were stuck in his head. Swishing around his mind like the sea below them. Receding, then coming forth once again, stronger than before.

Toruk Makto will disappear.

His life. Everything he had worked for. Everything he was. . . . gone.

Its all gone.

He is no longer the heir of the Omaticaya clan. He was no longer the next Olo’eyktan. It was both terrifying and. . . relieving.

---

Once they were in open air, a few hours from their stronghold in the Hallelujah Mountains, they landed on a small island to allow the Ikran to rest. “Kids, come here. Sit, sit.” 5 pairs of eyes darted to the former Olo’eyktan, his father, the Toruk Makto, Jake Sully. “I know you guys are tired an confused, and I’m sorry this is happening,” he paused. Almost as if at a loss for words.

“Daddy, when can we go home. I want to go home.” Tuk’s voice rung out, voicing the one thought on the forefront of all of their minds. The one thought he would never dare to let out. Not in front of his father at least.

“Tuk Tuk. . . I’m sorry baby girl, we cant go home.” His voice held so much emotion. . .  more emotion than he’d ever heard in his dad’s voice.

Frowning, he pulled Tuktirey into his arms, muffling her whimper into his chest. His dad needed to be thinking clearly, now. Otherwise, where would they be? “What’s the plan, sir?”

“We’re going to seek sanctuary with the Ocean Clans. We’re going to ground.”

Making sure to keep his face completely neutral, he felt the pit in his stomach tighten impossibly. They weren’t going home for a long time. . . he could feel it.

Awa’atlu

The gust of wind brought with them the smells of the forest, the sand, the people, and the sea. Stood out on the reef he let the sounds and smells of the ocean surround him, allowing him to forget. If only for a moment.

“Ao’nung!” His eyes flew open at the sharp note in his sister’s tone, “there you are! I have been looking everywhere for you. Father is looking for you, you are late for training.” He let his eyes fall closed again, trying to find that peace again, “Ao’nung?” and failing.

Spinning on his heal he started toward Tsireya, “I heard you, sister.” He ruffled her hair as he passed, pleased when she let out an annoyed sigh.

“Tsk. Ao! What have you done, I have just sorted my hair,” her hand came fast aiming for his scalp.

Swiping for her wrist he tries to stop her, “ah, ah. Don’t Tsy! You know it takes forever to unknot!”

“You should have thought of that-“

The sounding of a horn cut her off and they both froze. This was not the usual warning. This horn was not one he was familiar with. Looking to Tsireya for help, all he found was her mirrored confusion, “lets go!”

Diving off the reef they called for their Ilu, heading toward the beach.

When he broke the surface again he was at the edge of the beach, looking around he saw nothing out of the ordinary. . . until he heard it. The harsh cry from above. An Ikran.

5 of them to be exact. . . A very unusual sight this close to the villages. Rushing, he made it to the shore just as the Forest People began dismounting. Pushing through to the front of his people, he put on an intimidating front as he eyed the large male coming forward. He knew of him of course, the Toruk Makto, Jakesully. Everyone knew him. He moved on to the woman behind him, his mate, likely. The most surprising part though. . . they had their children with them. Why would they bring their children?

Hanging off Toruk Makto’s mate was a young child. And beyond them, another young woman. Mind reeling, he tried to piece together what they could possibly be here for when he spotted 2 more forms dismounting, hidden by the broad shoulders of his father.

Without seeming too obvious, he inched to the left, hoping to get a glimpse of the rest of the group. The first was a lanky looking boy, looking to be the same age as the other girl, defiance bright in his eyes. He felt his temper rising just looking at him. Great. When his eyes slid to the final person, he felt his heart rate pick up. Another boy, but this time, he had a reserved, mature look about him. He was lean, but clearly had muscle, his features were soft, ethereal. His features so different, yet so familiar at the same time. It was. . . a weird feeling and he wasn’t sure he liked or trusted it. As they finished their approach, they bowed their heads in greeting, “I See You,” they said in unison.

He scoffed. Why did these people think they could just come to their home unannounced. When his mother took over the situation, he zoned out of the conversation, stealing glances at the boy. He couldn’t quite bring himself to believe that this beautiful, perfect being had demon blood in him. Half-blood, he reminded himself, simply because it was a fact. Not because he was trying to convince himself it wasn’t because he wanted him to be perfect.

He didn’t tune back into the conversation until his father decreed that the Sully family would be staying with them indefinitely and they were to be treated as part of the people.

He was in for a load of trouble.

“My son and daughter will teach you our ways.”

A lot of trouble.

Chapter Text

Ao’nung.

That was the name of the Metkayina boy he couldn’t get off his mind. He had pushed his way to the front just as they landed, head held high, eyes calculating as they scanned his entire family. They faltered though when they landed on him, or that’s what his mind had made up, at least. His heart did not speed up at the thought. It was just his hunting instincts picking up on the subtle difference in his expression and breathing. Nothing more.

Here’s what he knew about this boy, his name is Ao’nung. He is decidedly not happy about their being here and his having to teach them how to be useful. He is the most charming thing he had ever seen. Wait. . . what? No, that’s not what he meant. . . was it? No, no.

Neteyam.

His name is Neteyam. . .

A name that matched him perfectly. He had learned his name inadvertently when he had overheard him and his father talking.

His heart had done that thing again where it sped up for no reason at all when he saw or thought about Neteyam, but it was simply because he was eaves dropping. Nothing more.

---

“Man, Tree Boy, if you can last longer than 3 seconds, you will be better than your brother for sure.” They all floated not far from where Lo’ak had just wiped out for the third time on his Ilu.

Neteyam scoffed from beside him but said nothing. He tried not to acknowledge the disappointment pulling at him at the lack of response.

“Alright, lets go. Time for you to start learning.”

“But-“

“No! Tsireya gets Lo’ak. You are mine.” He ignored the heat in his cheeks, as he hauled Neteyam onto his Ilu. They didn’t speak as they moved away from the crowd and he tried to ignore the heat radiating from behind him. He busied his hands in front of him so they stopped twitching with the insane need to touch the boy behind him.

---

“Ah! Shit,” getting flung off the Ilu was becoming a habit at this point. He just could not get it.

“You are not doing it right.”

“Well, that is pretty obvious.”

“Calm down. Come here.” Gesturing to his side, he tried to calm himself down as he pulled a tactic from his sister’s book, “You are doing fine. It is your breathing that is the issue. Breathe deep, breathe from here,” he placed his hand just underneath Neteyam’s rib cage. “Try and slow your heart. Forget about the surface. When you are with your Ilu, there is no air. It does not exist. So, forget about it. Also, stop lifting your head in anticipation of hitting the water. You want as little resistance as possible when diving. Lifting your big head is not doing that.”

“Ok, ok. Let’s go again.” He ushered forward, taking a moment before taking off into the distance and submerging.

“Oh, look, maybe he has finally got it.” When the ripples from his dive disappeared, he felt proud that he picked the brother with some semblance of skill. When another minute passed, he started to get a little nervous. Another 30 seconds, “gah.”

Flying into action he immediately dived, searching for the telltale signs of a struggle, but there was nothing. . .

---

His cheeks were burning, Ao’nung’s words bouncing around his head. Why was he so affected by them. He probably didn’t even see him in that way. He didn’t want Ao’nung to see him in that way.

You are mine.

Breathe deep.

Breathe from here.

He could still feel the burning sensation of Ao’nung’s palm on his belly. In fact, he was so engrossed in his daydreaming that he had not yet realized he was zooming around on his Ilu without any trouble. . . well, significantly less trouble than before.

His mind flicked back to earlier. Ao’nung was a really good teacher when he wanted to be, he would give him that at least.

- Earlier -

“Gah!” He lost his grip once again on the Ilu as his mind drifted back to a few hours ago. Surfacing he coughed in attempt to expel the water from his lungs, “ah! Shit!”

Ao’nung’s eyes were alight with amusement, “you are not doing it right.”

“Well, that is pretty obvious,” his temper was flaring but he couldn’t help it. Failing in front of Ao’nung was somehow even worse than failing in front of his father. He did not think that was even possible.

“Calm down. Come here,” moving closer he raised his brows at Ao’nung in question, “you are doing fine. It is your breathing that is the issue. Breathe deep,” he tried not to flinch at the contact of Ao’nung’s warm hand on his belly, “breathe here. Try and slow your heart. Forget about the surface. When you are with your Ilu, there is no air. It does not exist. So, forget about it. Also, stop lifting your head in anticipation of hitting the water. You want as little resistance as possible when diving. Lifting your big head is not doing that.”

Heat crept up his neck as his heart sped up, “ok, ok. Let’s go again.” He moved away before Ao’nung noticed, taking off as soon as possible, taking a deep breath he dived. . . and stayed on!

- Now -

Hell yeah! Take that Ao’nung! Looking behind him quickly he got a glimpse of the boys’ feet before taking off weaving in and around the reefs. He felt his grip slipping, and his lungs burned, but if he could just last a couple more minutes. He was just having so much fun.

. . . .

And then he saw the low riding ridge on the reef he was speeding through. . . and then he felt the pain as his braids caught in the ridges.

Shit

Centering himself he tried to ignore the pain radiating through his scalp, scrambling to untangle the knot of his hair before he ran out of breath. . . which was now if the black dots in his vision were any indication.

Shit, shit, shit

---

He squinted, searching as fast as he could, urging his Ilu to move faster. Around the latest fringe in the reef he noticed some odd, dark looking tendrils floating near the base. This was useless. He was wasting precious time. As he turned away though, a tiny glint bounced off the tendrils catching his eye. A bead.

Neteyam!

Grabbing onto his Ilu he tried not to think about the fact that the tendrils were floating in the same place, the head they hung from obviously not moving. He tried not to let himself think about the fact that the Tree Boy had not yet been able to hold his breath longer than 3 minutes since they began their training. He had not drowned.

He could see him now. Motionless. His Ilu long gone. His legs floating uselessly below him. His arms though were gripping something above him. Pulling away from his Ilu he swam over to Neteyam, swiping his braids out of the way to find his finger tangled in a knot of braids caught on the reef. Damn.

Working as fast as he could he untangles the mess of braids before wrapping an arm around Neteyam’s waist and swimming up to the surface. They broke up into the fresh air seconds later, but the danger wasn’t over yet. Neteyam still did not seem to be breathing and he had to find solid land. And fast.

Not far from them was a barrier reef with a small portion reaching far enough out of the water to toss Neteyam on. Hauling himself up beside the unconscious boy he leaned down, forcing air into the others lungs, one. Two. Three times.

Nothing. . .

Four. Five. Six times. He was coughing now. Seawater spilling from his lips. Lifting him to the side so Neteyam’s chest and stomach rested on his knees he rubbed his back in soothing circles. “You are alright, Tree Boy. You will be fine. Just let it out.” Keeping his strokes even and soft he waited until Neteyam relaxed, his head resting on the reef. . . that is, until Ao’nung slipped his free hand between his head and the reef.

Neteyam did not say anything, but his eyelashes fluttered and his head burrowed into his palm. A soft sigh escaping his lips while the rest of his body went limp along Ao’nung’s knees.

“Hey, now, Tree Boy. Do not go falling asleep on me. We must be getting back. This reef will disappear with the tide in minutes. It is getting near eclipse.” He slid his free hand up to Neteyam’s cheek, trying to rouse him.

“Mmn. Tired, Ao’n. . .” his protest trailing off as he nuzzled into Ao’nung’s forearm once again.

“Neteyam-“ his eyes opened at that, the piercing yellow cutting off his next words. They just stared at each other for a long moment. Clearing his throat he looked away, “do you think you can sit up?”

“Uh, yeah, maybe.” Struggling, he tried to sit up, his abdominal muscles tensing. All that came of the effort though was yet another coughing fit.

“Ok, alright. Let me help you up,” when Neteyam was finished spasming, Ao’nung hauled his torso up keeping his hand on Neteyam’s back, holding him steady.

“Gah, that does not feel very good.” Neteyam cleared his throat, as if it were raw from all the coughing. And it probably was. Almost drowning was not a great feeling. Just ask any of the People. They had all experienced the feeling at least once. Drowning came with the territory.

Keeping a sharp eye on Neteyam, he called for his Ilu, slipping into the water to make the bond and mount, “ok. Let’s get you back to dry land.” With more care than he intended, he helped Neteyam roll onto his hands and knees and slip into the water, “and one, two, three, up,” he grabbed the back of Neteyam’s loin cloth hoisting him up.

“Hey!”

“What?” he made sure to keep his voice innocent while a teasing smile broke out on his lips. “I was just getting you up.”

“As if, skxawng,” he snorted cuffing the side of Ao’nung’s head.

“Rude,” despite his mock annoyance, the smile on his face only got bigger and his heart squeezed with some unfamiliar feeling. A feeling he felt was dangerous to him and should very much be ignored. Instead of mulling over his flushed cheeks and fluttering heart he finished pushing Neteyam onto the back of his Ilu grabbing his hip.

When Neteyam settled though he was surprised to feel his head fall against his back and his slim arms wind around his waist locking in tight. He let out a deep sigh before he sagged, bringing his entire upper body flush against Ao’nung’s back.

By Eywa, this is going to be hard.

Urging his Ilu forward he headed toward the beach. When Neteyam started slipping though, his brain spit out the most atrocious idea that his body executed before he had time to shut it down. Shooting his hand back he grabbed onto Neteyam’s thigh, steadying him. He did not fail to notice all the lean muscle under his fingertips though. Muscle that tightened under is touch as Neteyam tensed at the intimate contact. When he relaxed though, he squeezed his arms tighter, scooching forward so that every inch of his front was flush with Ao’nung’s back. Ao’nung pretended not to notice, “m’ cold.” He snuggled closer still.

“Almost there, Tree boy.” He did not comment on the fact that Neteyam was anything but cold if the heat radiating of his skin into Ao’nung’s was any indication.

Scratch that, Great Mother. . . this is going to be impossible. Why had she placed such temptation before him?

Temptation that he could not ever give in to.

Chapter Text

His cove was his biggest secret. Not even Tsireya knew its whereabouts. It was perched higher than the village off into the forest some. To get here, you had to brave a very intricate cave system that he, thankfully, had mastered over the past few years. It truly was his secret place. He chose to continue weaving his nets here to bring himself peace of mind, singing a song of the Tulkun’s his mother had taught him.

~

“We mirror the strength and resilience of our bond between our People in these nets we weave now, Ao’nung.”

~

Eclipse was upon them, but he was not worried, as the darkness set in, the cove was lit bright by the bioluminescent flora in the cove shone brighter than the sun, the soft hues lighting up his work so he could continue well into the night without worry. Net weaving may have been his punishment for disappointing his father, but he really did not mind the task. It made him feel close to his sa’nok. They had spent hours together in his youth weaving nets, bringing back memories of the best years of his life. Before he had had to become the future Olo’eyktan rather than a beloved child.       [mother]

These thoughts of his mother brought back their. . . not so pleasant conversation from earlier that day;

~

“Ao’nung. Come here. Now.” His mothers voice cut across their pod and he scrambled to get up. He was in enough trouble as it was, no reason to annoy her further.

“Yes, sa’nok?” he sat across from her as she mixed  her medicines.      [mother]

“You are 15 years now, are you not, ‘itan?” she did not look up from her work.       [son]

“I am,” he knew better than to question his mother. She was loving. . . most of the time. Now was not one of those times. Something was weighing on her mind.

“It is only a matter of years until you are a man. A warrior.”

“Yes, sa’nok.”       [mother]

“hm,” she grunted, picking up another root and placing it in her bowl, “tell me, have you chosen a mate?”

He stopped – fidgeting, breathing, moving, thinking, all of it – locking his jaw, he made no noise in hopes she would forget he was there.

“You will be coming of age in a few years. Not long after that you will become Olo’eyktan.” Her voice stayed even, still looking only at her work, seemingly unaware of the terror and heartache her son was holding in, “your sempul and I have done everything in our power to be patient with you. We are growing weary of waiting. You are our heir, ‘itan. The People need this.” She finally looked up at him and he could swear he saw great sadness darken her eyes and soften her features. It was gone in a second though, replaced by a neutral façade that she had perfected. “Shall we look into arranging a mating for you? There are many fine Na’vi to choose from.”      [father // son]

“Kea, sa’nok. Rutxe, ke pxiset. Rutxe, kehe” he pleaded with her quietly. Not now. He could not deal with anything more right now. His plate was full.       [no mother. Please, not now. Please, no.]

“Zìsìtay, my sweet boy. You have until you are 17 years. We must know soon. It is unfair to your mate to wait any longer, they must be prepared as well.” She caressed his cheek, her worry emerging once again, “nga tslam?”      [Next year // you understand?]

He nodded leaning into her palm, how he missed her loving nature. He saw it so rarely in these times, “tslolam, irayo.”      [understood, thank you.]

“Oe tìyawn nga, maitan lor.” She hugged him close, hand buried in his hair.       [I love you, my beautiful son.]

Sometimes he forgot how much she loved them. She had to stay strong for her People, and the only way she knew how to do that was to bury her emotions, “oe tìyawn nga kop.”      [I love you too]

~

Now he sat racking his brain, trying to find any sort of plan to bring to his mother. Anything at all. And yet, there was nothing. He had never felt the need to join his brothers in admiring the women of the village. They did not interest him in the slightest. Sure, he played at it with his friends. Agreeing with their admirations, they never seemed to notice – or care – about his lack of contribution to these interactions though, so no one ever questioned him before. This was the problem with being the heir to the Metkayina clan, the son of the chief; he could not get away with not finding a mate. It was his duty to rule alongside his mate, bear children, and continue his bloodline so that his firstborn son could take over from him.

An image of the Sully’s heir floated into his mind and he felt that feeling again. The same one he felt when he saw him that first day; the thrill racing up his spine just as a chill trilled down it. He got the feeling that he knew this foreigner without even knowing his name. The way he could not look away from the expanse of dark, tawny skin, sharp, yellow eyes, and the array of bright tanhì that seemed to shift and move on his skin. That had just been plain curiosity though. He was a warrior and the Tree People were foreign to him, of course he wanted to know everything about hi-them.

He banished the image from his mind. Neteyam had nothing to do with this. Why did his stupid face keep popping into his brain. Kalweyaveng! There he was again.      [Son of a bitch]

The real punishment though was the way the weaving made him reflect on who he had become in the months since the Omatikayan refugee’s came to his home.

He had felt something for the first time;

~

Urging his Ilu forward he headed toward the beach. When Neteyam started slipping though, his brain spit out the most atrocious idea that his body executed before he had time to shut it down. Shooting his hand back he grabbed onto Neteyam’s thigh, steadying him. He did not fail to notice all the lean muscle under his fingertips though. Muscle that tightened under is touch as Neteyam tensed at the intimate contact. When he relaxed though, he squeezed his arms tighter, scooching forward so that every inch of his front was flush with Ao’nung’s back. Ao’nung pretended not to notice, “m’ cold.” He snuggled closer still.

“Almost there, Tree boy.” He did not comment on the fact that Neteyam was anything but cold if the heat radiating of his skin into Ao’nung’s was any indication.

~

He had made fun of their half-blooded nature;

~

“Are you some kind of freak?”

The rest was a blur. Not important in the slightest. Not until Neteyam had showed, grabbing his shoulder, ripping him away from Lo’ak, he found he could not form words.

“Back off.”

“I need you to respect my sister.”

“Look at them, just a bunch of demon-blooded freaks.”

~

He had nearly killed one of them;

~

“Come, we are going to hunt beyond the reef. It is where the men hunt.”

“Oh, I do not think I am allowed-“

“Hm, seems I have aske the wrong brother.”

~

His punishment was deserved and a long time coming. He had apologized to Lo’ak and Kiri of course, but that had not truly knocked him out of his own mind. Why had he done those things? He could not imagine the pain the Sully’s must have gone through when they were forced to flea their home. To protect their people no less. Yes, they were strangers in his home and he had every right to be standoffish, in the beginning. He had never stopped to consider that the Sully’s were also in the same boat, surrounded by a village of strangers, not particularly happy about the situation either.

He was such a skxawng.       [moron]

He had a lot of apologising to do. . . and he knew who deserved it the most. With everything he had done to the Sully’s in his efforts to make their lives a living hell there was one common factor in each encounter; Neteyam taking the flak for all of their mistakes. Getting in trouble with his parents every time – when Ao’nung and Lo’ak had gotten into that fight, Neteyam had gotten into trouble. When he had taken Lo’ak beyond the reef and abandoned him, Neteyam had gotten into trouble. It seemed that each time Ao’nung opened his mouth or acted out against the Sully’s, Neteyam got into trouble with his parents, ever the dutiful older brother. It was especially hard since he had never actually been the cause of any of the conflict between them, he was always the one urging them to get along; never getting mad, no matter the jab Ao’nung threw at him. Never getting frustrated – in front of his siblings – when he did not get something on the first, third, or even twentieth try. He was the one who truly deserved an apology, and yet, it had not even crossed Ao’nung’s mind until this moment that he should apologise to the boy.

Chapter Text

“Weave strong. . .”

His ears perked, where was that coming from? Neteyam stood on the outskirts of the village, out for a walk when he heard a deep, solemn voice humming a beautiful tune.

“Let your bonds bring you a strong weave. . .”

Past the edge of the village he jumped into the trees letting his body remember, reminiscing about the forests of his home, ears still trained on the hum, letting it lead him through the forest and into a breathtaking view. Ao’nung sat, a large pile of cord on his left and an unfinished basket perched in his lap as he wove humming to himself.

“A strong bond; a strong weave,” he made another knot, “may your brothers and sisters guide you,” another. . . another. . . another. He stood, mesmerized by his voice, his movements, him. Hues of pinks, purples, blues, and golds made his skin shine and glitter, his tanhì glowing softly. Softer, he noticed, than they did on any Omatikayan.

Beautiful

“Ah, vonvä’!” blinking he shook out if his daze to see blood running down Ao’nung’s finger, sucking in a harsh breath.       [Na’vi expletive; butthole, ass, asshole, dickhead]

Walking forward he made sure to make more noise than was necessary, but Ao’nung seemed to be in his own world, not a trace of recognition in his body language, “wow, Fish Lips, you are really in your own world tonight.”

Ao’nung jumps but does not turn around, “I knew you were there, Baby Tail. How did you get over the rocks?”

---

Neteyam snorted from behind him and for some reason he found it endearing, “yeah right. I was not in the rocks, fish lips. I was in the trees.”

Busted.

“That’s what I meant.” Smooth, very smooth.

He heard Neteyam chuckle, a shuffle of feet, and then a body drop down beside him close enough that Neteyam’s knee brushed up against his thigh lightly. The other boy did not seem to notice, or he did not acknowledge the contact at least. “Right,” his tone was disbelieving with a tinge of a playful note. “What are you thinking about? You look very troubled.”

“Nothing much.”

“That is not what your face is telling me. You look as I did many nights back home.” He turned to look at Neteyam surprised when he found Neteyam was already looking at him, his piercing auburn eyes holding him captive. Somehow, he seemed to forget that Neteyam was once in his same shoes. As the son of the Toruk Makto, and heir of the Omatikaya clan he had likely faced the same challenges and decisions Ao’nung faced now.

“Were you promised to a mate back in the forest?” he could not seem to resist the question. The answer to which was really none of his business, yet he found himself asking anyway not daring to break eye contact for fear that Neteyam would see just how important his answer would be to the boy. He wanted to seem nonchalant.

“Oh, uh-um,” Neteyam blinked, unsure, “n-no. Just a lot of talk that I needed to find someone before I turned 16. Uh-why?” Neteyam turned away embarrassed, breaking their eye contact.

“No reason really. . . I was just curious.” He tried to evade the questions. He really should not have brought the topic up.

Neteyam’s head flung around, his eyes flaring, “oh, no. I told you about my problems, please at least give me a hint. Why did you ask me about that? Have your parents promised you to another?”

There he went, hitting the nail on the head. He must have seen the way Ao’nung deflated when he turned away to look back out at the sea because a slim arm wrapped lightly around his shoulders.

They didn’t talk for a long time, him watching the waves trying to find something, anything to say to explain himself. He came up with nothing, so he stayed silent. Waiting for Neteyam’s judgement on the matter.

“Shit, huh. . .” he sighed, “do you not like them or something?”

“Huh?”

Neteyam turned to him again, so close now that he could feel his breath on his cheek, “you are promised? Do you not like them?”

Realization dawned on him, “n-no, no! I mean, no, that is not it at all. I have not been promised to anyone. I just- my mom called me over this morning to scold me for not finding a mate. . . she said its not fair to them as the also have a lot of training to go through. Becoming the mate of the future Olo’eyktan and all. She said I need to find someone before I am to be 17 or they will choose for me.” He took a deep breath. There it was. He had just confessed everything to a practical stranger. A stranger who really was not a stranger at all. . . they had become friends in these past months. “I. . . I just do not know what to do. Maybe I should just allow my mother to choose a mate? I know she will choose a good mate, strong, loyal, intelligent. . .” he looked up to Neteyam, “so, why can I not bring myself to tell her that?”

Neteyam looked at him with wide eyes, evidently he was not prepared for Ao’nung’s honesty. Looking away from him he tried to shrug the arm off his shoulders. Opening up was clearly a bad idea, “I think. . .” against his better judgement, hope flared when Neteyam finally spoke. “I think I know what you mean,” he heard shuffling behind him and when he looked over Neteyam had leaned back onto his palms looking up at the stars, a troubled look on his face. “My mom started pointing out ‘good matches’  when I turned 13. She never got very serious about it until recently. Then we fled. She has not said anything since.”

“How did you get through it?” his voice sounded small and he hated it.

“Well, I did not have to. We came here and that burden of mine fell onto you.” He felt Neteyam’s eyes fall on him.

“Oh. . . right.”

“But, I think I would like to help you, if that is alright?”

“I-I think I might like that.” He let himself smile, but only a little.

“So, you do not like anyone I take it?”

“Well, uh. . .” yes, “n-I do not- um, no,” his face heated.

“Convincing.” He could hear the laugh in his tone.

“It is, uh- complicated. I do not think my parents would be ok with it.”

“Ok. So you want to be with this person, but your parents would not approve?”

“I-I do not know. That is the whole problem.” He looked up to gauge his reaction; nothing. His face was neutral which did not help him at all. “I just. . . I do not know how I feel. It is confusing to me. I have never felt these things before.”

“I know what you mean. Take my brother for example; we were here 2 minutes and he already found a pretty girl to follow around – sorry – but me? I do not have those feelings. Whether I am too focused on my siblings to notice or I simply do not see any reason to ogle.”

“Right! That is exactly it.” He looked over, studying Neteyam’s features. If only I could tell you who. . . “If you know what I mean, Tree Boy, then you have started to feel something?”

A pretty blush exploded over Neteyam’s cheeks, darkening them to a deep blue – cute – his eyes flipping over to capture Ao’nung’s once again, “I-um it is complicated.”

He laughed at that. Even at  a time such as this, his mind riddled with turmoil, Neteyam was able to make him laugh. His heart swelled again with that nauseating feeling. A feeling he really did not want to stop feeling. “Fair enough, Tree Boy, fair enough.

When Neteyam started laughing with him, he could not help but to stop and admire what had to be the most beautiful laugh he had ever heard. It was light and lyrical. He wanted to hear it for the rest of his life. “I guess I was not much help to you in the end, huh. You are still stuck on what to do?”

“Maybe I do not have an answer, but you did help me. Thank you. “

“It is my pleasure,” he smiled that sweet smile placing his hand on Ao’nung’s shoulder, the contact searing his skin.

His hand dropped from Ao’nung’s shoulder all to soon, but his eyes never left Ao’nung’s. He was still troubled. Neteyam deserved an apology.  

“What are you thinking about?” his question was simple, but the answer was a gnarled mess of guilt festering within Ao’nung. First and foremost, though, Neteyam deserved a sincere apology.

“I owe you an apology,” he could not bring himself to look at the other boy instead he kept his chin glued to his chest tying another knot.

“For what?” the confusion was evident in his tone, Ao’nung could not help but look up at him, jaw dropping.

Did he really not remember all the trouble he had been in because of me? “because. . . I have gotten you in trouble with your parents. . .”

Neteyam smiled. . . which was not the reaction he was expecting in the slightest, his jaw still sat loose which Neteyam seemed to find hilarious because he started laughing.

“W-what?”

“Your face. . . you look like I have just sprouted another arm!” a hand landed on his bicep, squeezing lightly.

He placed his hand on Neteyam’s, seeking the comfort it brought, slowing his heart, “but- you are not mad?”

“Why would I be?” he stopped laughing, a wide smile still on his face, “I have 3 younger siblings Ao’nung. I am always in trouble for not watching them close enough.”

“But- your parents-“

“Are just worried about their children. They are not truly mad at me.” He said it like his father had not looked down on him with great disappointment. He knew firsthand just how demoralizing that look could be. His father had pinned him with that look before, it was almost enough to break you.

“Oh,” Neteyam gave him a small, reassuring smile.

“Do not get me wrong, though. In the moment, their disappointment truly hurts me.” He looked down and it was Ao’nung’s turn to place a comforting hand on Neteyam’s knee, “I should be keeping a closer, more watchful eye on my siblings. They are not old enough to know better. After the fact, though, I know they only lashed out because they are scared for their safety and needed to place blame.”

“You are not so old though, Tree Boy.”

Neteyam stopped a moment, thinking, “may be not, but I am the oldest. It is my job to keep them safe. You feel the same about Tsireya’s safety, do you not?”

“Of course.”

“We are not so different, you and I,” Neteyam’s hand covered Ao’nung’s.

“I guess not.” Neteyam looked away, studying the water and Ao’nung took the opportunity to study Neteyam. The worry on his face made Ao’nung’s sad for some unexplained reason and he found himself hating himself more for the fact that he brought this worry onto Neteyam, and even a little angry at the Toruk Makto and his mate for placing such a heavy burden on their own child. Shaking his head slightly, he banished that thought. It is not his place to question them, they were doing what they thought was best. His parents were the same with him and Tsireya. Instead he focused on the soft lines of Neteyam’s features, the way his eyes were smaller than he was used to, but looked perfect nonetheless, the yellow iris seemingly glowing in the darkness. He noticed how perfect his profile looked from this angle, how his ears moved and perked at every splash of the waves and call of an animal. He noticed the way his body rested on the sand of the cove, lean and small, but powerful nonetheless. He noticed the way Neteyam still had Ao’nung’s hand clutched against his knee. Finally, he noticed the way his tail seemed to have a mind of its own in the way it thrashed about. He could almost tell what Neteyam was thinking without the boy having said anything – something else was on his mind and he seemed to be choosing his words carefully.

Neteyam’s voice disturbed him from his admirations, yellow eyes finding his own, “it is not our fault, you know? That we are different than you.”

There it was, yet another reason he had to be ashamed of himself. He had let his insecurities get the best of him and in return he had relentlessly poked fun at the siblings about their differences, “I know, you are not meant to be in the ocean, your bodies are made to navigate forests-“

“No. That is not what I meant.” Neteyam shifted so that he was facing Ao’nung, their hands falling apart, “we cannot help that we are half-blooded. My brother and sister, Kiri, cannot help that they have four fingers. We are different, yes, but does having an extra finger and a father who was born to the wrong species really make us so bad?”

“. . . no.”

“Then why? Why are you so hostile?”

“I do not know. I think. . . I think maybe I was scared,” he looked away, Neteyam’s gaze suddenly unbearable to hold while he exposed his vulnerabilities, “I was scared that Lo’ak would take Tsireya away from me. . .” well, that was sort of true, but not what truly bothered him. Lo’ak was not the brother he feared would steal a piece of his heart. . . though, it seemed that brother may already have if the way his hands itched to reach out to touch the other was any indication. “I was afraid of. . .”

“Afraid of what, Ao’nung?” Neteyam’s face appeared in front of him as he moved to crouch in frond of Ao’nung. His face so close now that he could feel Neteyam’s breath, feel his shins brush up against his own.

He was too close, his voice too soft. He had to get away from this; away from the temptation, but he could not move. He could not speak, so instead of speaking, he searched Neteyam’s eyes, looking for any reaction as he lifted a hand to place it on Neteyam’s cheek, testing the waters. Neteyam’s eyes darkened but did not leave Ao’nung’s, his mouth opening, breath coming in faster.

So he lifted his other hand, fitting it on Neteyam’s cheek, revelling in the softness of his skin. Neteyam’s tongue peeked out of his mouth, passing over his lips, bringing all of Ao’nung’s suffocating focus onto his lips before looking back into his eyes. “I was afraid my heart would be taken. . .”

He brought their foreheads together, touching the tips of their noses in promise, “my Neteyam,” Neteyam’s breath hitched. “Will you swim with me? You could still use some work on your breathing and stamina.” He smirked letting the challenge hang in the air, and just as he had hoped he found an answering challenge light in Neteyam’s eyes.

Neteyam laughed placing a hand affectionately on the back of Ao’nung’s head for a moment before standing, holding his hand out for the other, “I bet I could beat you by now.”

“Oh yeah? Bring it then, Tree Boy.” Ao’nung clasped his hand around Neteyam’s forearm, feeling him do the same and let himself get pulled up.

Chapter Text

“Goodnight,” his hair was still damp and he had a sickeningly sweet feeling stuck in his chest. His smile was too wide, mirroring Neteyam’s. What was happening to him?

“Goodnight, Ao’nung.” Neteyam fidgeted looking like he was working himself up to saying something.

“What is it?”

Neteyam’s hand found his, the other resting on the muscle between his neck and shoulder, “I see you, Ao’nung.”

He searched Neteyam’s eyes, looking for any reason he may be lying, trying to poke fun using his feelings, but he found nothing. Covering the hand on his neck he cleared his throat, suddenly emotional, “I see you. . . Neteyam.”

He was not prepared for the smile Neteyam gave him before turning around and disappearing into his family’s pod and he found himself unusually perky on his walk back to his family’s pod.

Sneaking through the door he tip toed past his parents’ sleeping forms. Sparing a glance in Tsireya’s direction, checking on her. She was sleeping softly, curled into a ball with a sweet smile on her lips. The same smile he knew was mirrored on his parents faces. They had all found someone, their lives free from the turmoil that was almost enough to incapacitate him; what exactly was Neteyam to him. Why did he feel so attached to the boy.

His unruly, dark hair.

His fierce, yellow eyes that read him so easily.

His perfect, nose, lips, jaw.

His thin shoulders, narrow waist, long legs, and slim arms.

Everything about him.

He laid down unable to sleep, just staring at the ceiling, tracing the intricacies in the cloth. He let his mind wander, mulling over all of his interactions with Neteyam, both good and bad. His mind kept coming back to one thought; he is my life, I will do anything for him. I have feelings for him. He had responsibilities though, he had to rise up one day and lead his People. Lead them alongside his mate. Produce and heir. While, in theory, they could have children it was very rare that Eywa bestowed a child upon same sex couples. It only ever happened once, maybe twice, in any given generation. A mated pair would pray to their Great Mother, asking, begging her to grant them the gift of a child and she would judge them based on their merits. Everything they had ever done. . . and he had not been the best person all his life.

He still hoped though.

He needed to talk to someone about all of this. . . He needed to talk to Tsireya.

They had just gotten back maybe an hour ago but it was already time for him to wake up. He could hear his parents stirring from across the pod whispering faintly. From the next room he heard Tsireya already dressing for the day. Sighing he got up, going through the motions of their morning; wake up, greet family, make food, eat, talk about our days, start chores.

---

He watched the waters patiently, waiting for the schools of fish to emerge following his calls. He had been tasked with fishing today, while not his favourite chore, it was not a terrible job. The calm ripples of the ocean and happy cries of children around him worked to ease his mind from the storm that was his emotions. What had they done? What did Neteyam mean to him exactly? What were they now after last night? Surely friends did not touch like that. . .

“Tsmukan! Ao!” he looked up from his net at Tsireya’s shout, “tsmukan, where are you?”       [Brother // brother]

“Here.” When she came into view he waved her over, his fishing apparently put on hold.

“Ao’nung! Did you hear? There will be a mating ceremony tomorrow!” her tail swished in the water happily. He envied how free spirited she could be, just how. . . happy she was all of the time.

She had the biggest smile on her face and he could not help but return it. “I had not. Tell me, who are the blessed pair?”

“Cousin Rokorō and Yūko’askeli, they announced it early this morning! Their sa’sem were so proud for their sons. It is a good, strong tìmuntxa, I can feel it.”       [name // name // parents // mating]

“I agree, they are a great match. I thank Eywa for her great kindness in them.” He placed a hand above his heart, thanking their Great Mother.

She mirrored his show of  respect, sending off a prayer of her own, “as do I.” Her smile dropped into a knowing smirk and he wondered just what she was thinking, “now, come. We must get ready. There is much to do and I need your help setting up.”

“Tsmuke, I must hunt. If there is to be a ceremony tomorrow we will need all the food we may find.” He gestured to his empty net, “as you may see, there is much progress to make.”       [Sister]

Ignoring his protests she grabbed his arm, dragging him from the shallow water, “no need to fret, tsmukan, sa’nok and sempul have gone out to hunt and tasked us in teaching the Sully’s about our ceremonies. They must learn our ways of celebration.”       [brother, mother and father]

“But-“ he let her pull him from the water. Despite the fact that he would rather hunt, he would never abandon his sister when she sought his help.

“None of that, now. I have asked Rotxo to look after Kiri, I will show Lo’ak and Tuk, and you will help Neteyam. Tslam?” there was no room for argument in her tone.       [Understand?]

He did not say anything, this would not be the end of the world, Neteyam, at least, had half a brain. He felt bad for his sister though. That Monkey Boy Lo’ak was a piece a work, “fine, fine.”

“Kosman!”       [Wonderful!]

They had made it halfway to the Sully’s Marui when he stopped, “Tsireya. . . can I ask you something?”

“Of course, what is it?”

“Why. . . why is it you like Lo’ak?” he shifted uncomfortably in her silence, “I mean, what do you like about him?”

She looked at him thoughtfully trying to gauge his intent. Keeping his expression open, he let her search, his sister was the only one he felt he could be completely open and honest with in this situation, or any other for that matter, she had never, nor will ever judge him. She gave him a small smile as if she had found what she was looking for, “w-well, I just think he is amazing.” She stumbled, eyes scrunching, dissatisfied with her answer, “he is incredibly courageous and his perseverance astounds me. He does not give up ever. No matter the circumstances.”

He smirked, “you also think he is cute, no?” that got her flustered all over again.

She giggled, “yes, tsawl tsmu, he is.”       [big bro]

“Gross.” They laughed, the weight lifted a little and breathing got a little easier. Maybe everything would be alright?

“Why do you ask?” he did not say anything more and she tilted her head at him still smiling, “you are thinking of another courageous, mild-mannered Omatikayan, hmm?”

A hot blush shot up his neck, “how did you know?”

“It is pretty obvious, skxawng.” He hid his face from her, he was not ashamed, not with her, but he was scared of her reaction, “I am so happy for you!”

Her voice was bright and so hopeful it made him cringe a little, “you do not think it is weird?”

“What is weird about it? You have found the one for you and I think that is amazing!” she moved so she was back in his line of vision.

He bowed his head in shame, what was he thinking? There was no way their parents would allow him to choose an Omatikayan warrior as his mate. His sister would tell him the same, “what about sa’nok and sempul?”

She tilted her head to the side, confusion clouding her voice, “what about them?” He matched her, tilting his head to the side. . . was she really so naïve as to believe their parents would allow such a pairing? Her and Lo’ak, they could probably swallow their disappointment. Him and Neteyam, maybe not.

“What will they say? What will they think? He is an outsider, not even Metkayina. . .”

“So?”

He could not believe his ears, her voice was more intense, stronger than he had ever heard it before, “what?”

“So what?”

“How can you say that? You know what we must go through. It is not the same for me, for us, as it is for cousin Rokorō. We cannot mate for love Tsireya. I cannot want him!” he paused, taking a breath, doing everything in his power to stop the tears from falling, “so why do I, when I know all of this. I know it! But Tsireya, I-I want. . . I want him.” Tears were falling now and he was being too loud, but there was nothing to take back what he had said. It was out there now and all he could hope was that his baby sister knew the answers he sought. He needed.

She smiled again, stepping toward him cuffing him lightly on the side of the head, “tell them that. Tell them exactly that, kalin. They will understand,” he was speechless, and there she went again, that unrelenting strength in her voice that he really needed to hear right now.        [sweetie – roughly]

She placed a hand on his neck and he could almost pretend everything would be ok, “you are very strong, you know that Tsy?” he hugged her close to him. “What would I do without you?”

“Probably something incredibly stupid, skxawng.” He laughed at that relaxing into her embrace, “now, let us teach our new brothers and sisters our ceremonial rituals.” She wiped the tears from his eyes, nothing in her smile but pure, sisterly love. Eywa, he would crumble without her.    [idiot]

“Irayo, nìtxan. Oe tìyawn nga. Tuvom.”       [Thank you, so much. I love you. More than anything; greatest of all]

She pulled away cupping his cheek affectionately, “nga, nìteng,” she dropped her hand with a huff, tears forming in her eyes, “oh, now look what you have done. Got me crying again.” They both laughed before heading back off to the pods.      [You, as well]

Chapter Text

Ao’nung held the curtain open for him while he gathered the last of the ceremonial dishware. He had been woken up early by excited voices. Those of his family and the royal siblings, which was odd. When he had emerged he had immediately been pinned by Ao’nung’s eyes, they almost shone with how blue they were this morning.

“Good morning, everyone.”

“Neteyam!” Tuk, who had previously been trying to meld with their fathers side launched herself at him. Catching her he gave her a tight hug, he pushed their foreheads together before adjusting her to his side knowing she would not be leaving him anytime soon.

“Tuk, Tuk, Tuk, how are you today my syulang?”       [flower]

She giggled, “someone is getting mated tomorrow and they are throwing a party for them! A party!”

“Wow, sounds like so much fun! What are we going to do though, to make their night all the more special?”

“Hmm. No, what??”

“We will help them!” He had turned back to the group then, nodding to Tsireya, “good morning, Tsireya.” He smiled at Ao’nung, “Ao’nung.”

“Kaltxì si, Neteyam. How are you this morning?” Tsireya turned to smile at him.       [a greeting; hello]

“I’m well, thank you.”

“Morning.” Ao’nung smiled up at him. It was small, but it was a smile. He returned the favour.

The had already been split into groups by the time he had joined the conversation; Rotxo and Kiri, him and Ao’nung, Tsireya, Lo’ak, and Tuk. He had been a little too happy at the news that he would get to spend some time alone with Ao’nung. He probably was doing this begrudgingly anyway, following his fathers orders to make nice with the newbies. After their moment in the cove, Ao’nung had not really spoken of it since, nor had he seemed to acknowledge something was different between them.

“Put them over on that big table, Tsireya will place them around once the food is made.” Ao’nung’s voice shook him from his memories. His voice weirdly soft and eyes that were too blue, it was all so confusing.

He looked up at Ao’nung from where he was crouched, pushing those thoughts from his mind. If Ao’nung was going to ignore it, so, he supposed, would he. For the time being at least, until they had a chance to talk. . . alone. “So, this structure, I do not think I have seen it before, what is it for?”

“This is the Rìt’ayantō, the oldest structure on the village constructed by the ‘awve pongu.” Ao’nung looked over to the large building before them. “Ceremonies and rituals such as mating’s and initiations are held here.” He pointed over to a smaller building attached in conjunction to the large platform, “it is also where we are given all of our adult ceremonial wear, our tattoos, and deemed adults after we complete our iknimaya.”       [name // first people; ancestors // various coming of age rituals a young Na’vi must complete before they’re considered adults – they vary between clans]

He looked around at the old symbols on the floor where he crouched. They were extremely worn, like thousands of feet had stood on them over the years. His ears perked, “your tattoos?”

Ao’nung smiled, “Our tattoos, formally nìt’iluke rel, are extremely important to us and to our culture. They are not simply to be seen, but are representations of our language, honour, power, and tradition.” Ao’nung motioned to some skins that bore markings upon them, they seemed familiar to him. They reminded him of the tattoos he had seen on the adult Metkayina villagers. “There are several types, those adorned by our Tsahìk, those adorned by the Olo’eyktan, and those adorned by our warriors and People.” Ao’nung paused, helping him to stand, “we tattoo our chests to show our strong connection to our land. We tattoo our arms to represent our desire to protect our People just as the seawall protects us. We tattoo our face and neck to tell our stories, to ensure none are ever forgotten.”       [neverendingly/ forever // picture/image]

Curiosity overtook him, “what will yours be like, Ao’nung?”

“I, as a warrior will have many tattoos on my arms and legs. As the future Olo’eyktan I will have some tattoos on my chest. As one of the People I will have tattoos on my face and neck to tell my story, that I am an adult and I have come of age.”       

He leaned into Ao’nung’s shoulder, urging him on, “I did not realize there could be so much history and meaning behind your tattoos.”

“Our tattoos are a gift from Eywa, and from our People. The ink is a special mix of animal that keeps us forever close to our home. It is a great honour to receive each and every one.” An envious smile ghosted across his face, “today, Rokorō and Yūko’askeli will receive new tattoos in the evening ceremony.” Ao’nung looked at him again, eyes intense, “arguably the most meaningful tattoos we receive are on the day of our mating; the tattoo of our mate.”

“That is really beautiful, Ao’nung. It is a great blessing by Eywa. There is no doubt in my mind.” He smiled smacking Ao’nung affectionately with his tail.

“Mhm,” Ao’nung nodded, “I cannot wait until I get my tattoos.” He turned back to their setup, finding the table Ao’nung had motioned to before.

“This is a lot of setup for a mating ceremony. In the forest we just had a feast on the ancestral grounds, passed stories, and blessed the new couple by Eywa.” Neteyam walked past him placing the dishware on the table, “its kind of nice.”

“It is. My father believes it is very important to celebrate good news. Before he took over from the previous Olo’eyktan, I am told many traditions had fallen dormant.” He smiled walking over placing a hand on his forearm, “lets go. I think you will love this next part.”

His heart skipped a beat, whether it was because of the physical contact or in curiosity, he was not entirely sure, “really? What is it?”

“We are going to the forest to gather some decorations.” His heart rate kicked up and he felt the wide smile on his face, “I knew you would like it.” Ao’nung smiled back at him. “I’m not much for gathering. . . or all that good in the forests, but I think we will be fine.”

“Yeah!” He grabbed Ao’nung’s hand, dragging him to the forests edge, “do not worry, I will help you! In just a minute.” Letting go of the boys hand he scaled the large rock that separated the village from the dense forest at the islands centre. He did not take a second to marvel at the site of trees and rocks and bush again before he launched himself up into the trees, climbing and swinging, running. He ran a wide circle before coming back to the place he had left Ao’nung his breathing heavy at the workout, but he was infinitely happier. “This is amazing Ao-“ he looked around off the side of the rock where Ao’nung should have been but was not, “Ao’nung?”

“Over here, Skxawng.” Looking to his right he watched as Ao’nung struggled to get up a smaller rock than he was on now and he tried not to laugh when he lost his footing and slid to the ground, “how did you even get up there? Are you some kind of alien?”       [moron]

“Haha, no. This is what I am good at, Fish Lips. Our baby tails, small bodies, we are built for this.” He moved to lay flat on the rock just above Ao’nung, holding his hand out, “Come on. You are too big, too dense to get yourself up here. Take my hand and I will help you.”

He looked skeptical, “you know there are paths all around the forest for us to get in?”

“Then go to one of them, tell me what to get and I will will start without you.” A jab he knew was a direct blow to Ao’nung’s ego. He smirked at the fire that lit in Ao’nung’s eyes.

“Not a chance Baby Tail.” Ao’nung grabbed onto his forearm, “ok, I push, you pull?”

“Sounds like a plan. And, now,” he pulled up on Ao’nung’s arm hoisting him up onto the rock until they were chest to chest and he did not back away.

“I um- whoa!” somewhere in the mess of limbs one of them tripped sending them tumbling into the brush.

“Oof-“ he felt a hand slide behind his head, cushioning his fall – slightly – then a dense form land on top of him. Opening his eyes he saw treetops and other than something holding him down he was not injured. Looking down he saw a mess of curly hair and shoulder. Placing a hand on Ao’nung’s back he tried to find his face which was currently buried in his neck, “Ao’nung? You good?”

Blue eyes found his, “um, yes, I think?” hands flexed on his waist and neck and blue eyes widened, “nothing broken. Sorry, I must be really heavy.”

“Not really.” He let his hand trail up Ao’nung’s back to his hair, “your hair fell out.” He ran his fingers through the strands, half braided and the rest left loose to curl, “it is very soft.” A bewildered look cross Ao’nung’s features, “what?”

“Only my sa’nok has ever said that to me.”

“Really? Why is that?”

“Well. . . I do not really allow people to touch my hair.”

“Oh,” he snatched his hand away, “I’m sorry, I was not thinking.”

“I like when you do it, though,” his eyes were intense then he sat up resting on his knees, essentially stradling Neteyam. “I do not like to have it down, though.”

“Why is that?”

A guarded look passed over his face, “I was told I looked like I should be the next Tsahìk rather than Olo’eyktan.” He moved to tie his hair up again.

“No,” he sat up, stopping Ao’nung’s movements with a hand on his elbow. Moving Ao’nung’s hands away he entwined his fingers in Ao’nung’s braids, loosening the strands until they fell free once again. “I like it like this. You look. . . unreal.”

“Heh, is that a compliment?”

“Maybe? What is it to you, Fish Lips?” at the mention of lips he noticed just how close he had gotten to Ao’nung, their bodies merely a breath apart, Ao’nung still perched in his lap. Ao’nung’s hands resting on his waist and stomach. He searched his eyes, looking for any explanation to their current predicament. . . could it be possible Ao’nung felt the same? He was almost too scared to even think of the prospect of soft kisses and stolen touches. He yearned for the freedom to feel it. “My dad also happens to know a female Olo’eyktan. She was the fearless leader of one of the other forest clans. He used to tell us stories of her bravery in the battle to take back Pandora.”

“Ah, poor Forest Boy, got called out.” He let out a short laugh before sobering again, “thank you, though I’m still putting it back up. I have got a reputation as a tight ass to uphold.”

“Can you at least keep it down for now? It is just us out here,” that seemed to knock Ao’nung out of his daze causing him to look around.

“I guess, yeah,” he stood and Neteyam could not help but feel a little disappointed and oddly cold at the loss of contact. “Lets go, we have a lot to do,” a smile graced Ao’nung’s lips as he held out a hand for Neteyam who took it with a smile of his own.

“Bet you cannot beat me in a race out here.”

“Oh, it is on.”

---

“You look happy, tsmukan,” he heard Tsireya’s call and his smile stretched further. “Did you have a good time gathering with Neteyam?”

“I did.”

“You picked up on navigating the forest?”

“Not in the slightest,” he laughed, “I felt like a baby taking his first steps.”

“Are you alright, Water Boy?”

Neteyam’s face came into his field of vision more amusement than worry in his expression. Standing he dusted himself off, “the branch was slippery. . . anyone would have fallen.”

“Of course,” his tone was anything but sincere but Ao’nung found that he really did not care.

“Whatever. Come on slow poke, we need to keep gathering,” he smirked when Neteyam’s jaw dropped, running off he watched as Neteyam easily caught up to him, gracefully flying through the thick brush of the forest. Show off.

Tsireya laughed, “Oh, I’m sorry,” she placed a hand over her mouth trying to stifle her amusement. “Why are you so happy then?”

“Hmm, because it was. . . fun.”

“I see,” she had an unusually teasing smirk on her face, “the company made up for the embarrassment?”

He could not help the blush, “. . . I guess, yeah.” He gave her a small smile.

She put a hand on the back of his neck giving it a squeeze, “I am so happy for you. . .” he could feel her hesitation as they began walking to their pod. “Do-do you know what it is you will tell our sa’sem?”       [parents]

“Not yet.”

“Oh, Ao’nung,” he felt her sadness, “you will. I know you will. I feel great happiness is to come for you in the future.”

“Really?”

“Yes, but. . . I also feel a time of tremendous sorrow and pain coming fast. I worry for you. I do not question our Great Mother, but I worry about you. I loathe to see you in any pain.”

“You are really getting this Tsahìk business down, sis.” He tried to lighten the mood, but he was scared as well, what could possibly be in his future? “I will be alright.”

“I hope so. . .”

Before they knew it they were home, and they put on happy faces, ate, and went to bed. Tomorrow was a new, happy day and he was determined to have a good time.

Chapter Text

“Come now, parultsyìp. We must get ready for the Sngä’itseng Leym Aylaru Starsìm. The meal has been prepared already.” Their mother entered the pod, already dressed for the morning ceremony, “get dressed. I have laid out your clothes. You will change at kxamtrr and kaym.”       [term of affection for ones children // (literal; Beginning / cry out / to the others / gather – ‘Morning Call To Gather’) // midday // evening]

“Yes, sa’nok,” they said it in unison, glancing at each other before hurrying to their rooms to change. Laid out was the first of his ceremonial outfits, a deep red loin cloth with a beaded chest piece to match. He left his weapons on his sleeping mat as there was no place for them in this ceremony. He walked out to his mother.       [mother]

“Tsk, you are crooked my boy.” She fussed with his beads until they were placed perfectly, then cupped his cheek, “my beautiful boy. I can only think of how close we are to your mating. I am both so proud. . . and scared to lose you.”

He returned the gesture, rubbing her cheek, “you will never truly lose me, sa’nok. I will always be here.”       [mother]

“I know.” A single tear was shed before she turned away to fuss over Tsireya, “now, go find the sully’s children. I need you to keep an eye on them. Make sure they learn, yes?”

“Yes.”

“Good, good. Now go.” They scurried off in search of the siblings.

“Ao, I have got Lo’ak and Tuk again, and you, Neteyam?”

“Yes.”

---

“So, what is first?” he caught himself staring a little to intently at the other boy whose ears where back on his head, checking himself to find what Ao’nung was smiling at.

He laughed, trying to cover up his blunder, swiping his hand through the air to dismiss Neteyam’s concerns. “Well, we have the Sngä’itseng Leym Aylaru Starsìm where we call the immediate families of the pair, then when they are seated we change the call and then Rokorō and Yūko’askeli come to sit at the head table with us and my parents.”       [Morning Call To Gather]

“Rokorō is your cousin, right?” Neteyam’s brows furrowed in concentration. A trait he seemed to express whenever he was focusing on learning something that he was not picking up fast enough. It was the cutest thing and Ao’nung could not help himself so he reached out to smooth out his brows, laughing when Neteyam looked at him bemused, but he did not fight the contact. A ball of hope flared in Ao’nung’s chest.

“Distant, yes. So he does not have the same extended ceremony as I and Tsireya would. It is very short; we eat, my father calls upon the heads of each family-“

“Heads of the family?”

“In these times it is just the parents of the pair.”

“Ah. Got it,” his ears pinned to his head again, “sorry for interrupting.”

He smiled trying to lighten the mood, “think nothing of it. You are learning, feel free to ask me anything or let me know if something I say is not clear. Anyway, he calls upon the heads of each of their family’s to ask if they agree to this mating, my father then asks the People if they agree, then my mother does an initial blessing of the pair – the Sngä’itseng syawn. Then zey stxeli are exchanged between the family.”       [First blessing // special gifts]

“Ok, and why exactly does their mating get approved? I thought that was only if the pair had a royal component? Like you and Tsireya? At least, that is how it works in the forest clans. . . well except for my parents, though, in the end, my grandparents were happy for my mom and approved of her choice in my father. . .”

He stopped, he had never really thought too deeply on that, something to ask his mother another time, “im not really sure, honestly.”

“Ah.”

Neteyam said nothing more. To prompt him, Ao’nung tried again, “as far as I know, no one has ever disagreed with a mating. I think it is just a formality at this point.”

Neteyam smiled, “that makes sense, I guess. There are some really weird rituals in the forest as well.” Neteyam’s tail brushed against his own, but did not move away. Neither of them acknowledged the contact. “Ok, then what?”

Feeling confident suddenly, he trailed a hand down Neteyam’s arm between them. Neteyam’s tail flicked and his breathing sped slightly, but he had no other outward reaction. “Then we part until the evening feast. Generally the children are left to play traditional games and adults perform warriors dances, but we will be helping my mom and Tsireya set up the feast as you must learn.”

“Ok, so. . . how would that change for you?”

His breath caught in his throat at the seemingly innocent question, “there is more politics and a bigger celebration.” He imagined how Neteyam would look in his families ceremonial colours. He looked away to hide the blush blooming on his cheeks.

“Hmm,” curious, he had to gauge Neteyam’s reaction. Peeking beside him, he watched as Neteyam placed a thoughtful hand on his chin in deep thought.

“Ao’nung. Come. It is time.” He looked up to see his father studying him.

He bit his cheek, he had definitely noticed how close he was standing to Neteyam. “Yes, father. Come Neteyam, we are chanting.”

A smile broke out on Neteyam’s lips, “cool.”

---

“That was so cool! Your dad knows how to throw a party,” Neteyam smiled at him, his hand gripping Ao’nung’s bicep as they sat across from each other. The morning meal had ended well over an hour ago but they had been too busy cleaning up to talk much. Neteyam had pulled him away from the bustle as soon as they had finished their task for a ‘debrief’ as he called it. Even though he had no idea what that meant he followed the other boy nonetheless.

Now they sat, knees brushing up against each other, hands stealing small touches here and there as they recounted the festivities, “yeah, and its nothing like my coming of age will be! I cannot wait! Only two years left,” he smiled, “I even start my iknimaya soon!” rather than the excitement he hoped for, Neteyam looked a little lost, “what is it, Neteyam?”       [various coming of age rituals a young Na’vi must complete before they’re considered adults – they vary between clans]

Neteyam looked a little surprised but quickly replaced the look with a neutral one, “what do you mean?”

He winced at the closed off tone, “you looked a little sad there. . .”

“Oh. . . it-it is just. . . nothing,” he looked down, deflating, “I’m sorry. I did not mean to ruin your mood.”

“It is nothing to be sorry for,” realization dawned on him, “is it because you did not finish your iknimaya before you left?” 

“No. . .  yes” Neteyam looked up, his eyes capturing Ao’nung’s, “I did not finish.”

“Well, then you are just going to have to finish it here.” He grabbed the back of Neteyam’s neck, squeezing hard, “you are Metkayina now. You will complete the iknimaya alongside me.” He left no room for negotiation, and Neteyam did not argue. He looked hopeful. “Alright, lets go help with the setup.”

He held a hand out and Neteyam took it, “ok.”

---

The sun framed Ao’nung as he held a hand out, waiting for Neteyam to follow his lead. His reef in the middle of a storm holding out a second chance. He was still dressed in his ceremonial clothes, the deep reds contrasting with his skin in the most alluring way. He found he could not look away, even though the sun drilled into his eyes.

“Is it because you did not finish your iknimaya before you left?”  

“No. . . yes. I did not.”

“Well, then you are just going to have to finish it here.” He grabbed the back of Neteyam’s neck, squeezing, “you are Metkayina now. You will complete the iknimaya alongside me.” Ao’nung left no room for negotiation, and Neteyam was not going to. He was hopeful. “Alright, lets go help with the setup.”

Neteyam found himself taking the second chance, agreeing, “ok.”

---

He and Neteyam had gone their separate ways when Jake had called his family back to their pod to get ready for the feast, now only he, Tsireya, and his mother were left putting the final touches on the tables. Catching Tsireya’s eye, he motioned for her to leave him and their mother alone for a bit, she nodded before excusing herself to change.

“I will be taking my leave as well. You should change, son.” She came over to adjust his clothes, fix his hair, then holds his head in affection, pressing their foreheads together quickly before turning to leave. He racked his brain to find a way that would make her stay, but only one came to mind. Rushing forward he grabbed onto the beading on the back of her chest piece just as he used to do when he was younger to get her attention when something was on his mind. She stopped, “Ao’nung?” turning fully she worried her brows when she sees the turmoil on his face, “prrnen, what is it? Are you alright?”

She busies herself checking his face, looking him up and down, lifting his arms to check the backs, as if she could find an injury. “I,” she stopped. Looking at him slowly, “I know who I would like to be my mate, but I do not know if you will approve. . .”

“Why? Who is it?”

“I cannot say, yet. I must talk to them first, ask them what they feel on the matter. . . I do not yet know if they want me.” His mother scoffed, like it was not possible for there to be rejection in his life, “No matter the answer though, I want you to know it is them I want. No other,”

She looked taken aback and he began to regret how standoffish he had been. Underneath, though, there was pride, “very well, maitan. I will await your news, do not make me wait too long. I love you.”      [my son]

“I love you too, mom.” He pulled her in for a hug, squeezing her tight, lingering longer than normal, but for exactly how long he needed. She did not let go.

When they parted, she cupped his cheeks smiling a moment before adjusting the last dish and walking away.

He left to change, then find Neteyam.

---

“Neteyam!” he saw Neteyam’s head over a stack of baskets.

Waving his heart fluttered at the smile he received from the other boy, “hey,” Neteyam stood with Tuk in his arms. They wore matching clothes in dark purple loin cloths, arm bands, and neck bands. “We are heading over now,” he walked over to Ao’nung, Tuk smiled and waved before burying her head back into Neteyam’s shoulders.

“Sorry, I will catch you later, then,” he felt a little dejected at the immediate shut down. He turned to walk away.

“Wait, have you had any luck with your person? The one you were not sure if you had romantic feelings for them?”

He looked Neteyam in the eyes, studying him, watching the way his pupils dilated and receded with the changing light, “yeah. . . I think I have figured it out. . . can you meet me in the cove tonight at eclipse?”

His smile dropped, replaced by a frown and scrunched eyes, “yeah, of course. But why?”

“I will tell you later,” he placed a hand on Neteyam’s shoulder leading him to the feast.

---

He could not help but stare at Ao’nung for most of the night. His eyes naturally finding the boy in the crowd, studying him, trying to figure out what exactly Ao’nung needed to tell him. . . and why he needed to wait. His mind spit up yet another explanation, maybe he is mad. . . he wants me to back off after what they did yesterday. Maybe he was regretting letting Neteyam get close to him. He really hoped that was not the case. He could not help but think of Rotxo and his other friends, even though they were the best of friends, Ao’nung never really let them get too close to him. They did not know how scared Ao’nung really was, of losing his family, of losing his home, of losing his sister. They did not know that Ao’nung has insecurities. They did not know he was fighting with himself each and every day to try and please his parents. . . so much that he was denying himself his own happiness. They did not know what it was like to be the first born son of a powerful Olo’eyktan.

“Hey,” Lo’ak’s voice made him jump, looking away from Ao’nung, “are you ok? You have been zoning out all night, brother?”

He turned to his brother, studying his face. He seemed. . . happier. Tsireya was a big part in that. “Yeah, fine.”

He shifted his shoulder lower, pulling Tsireya closer to him, settling her into his shoulder. Their hands were clasped, he tried to stamp down the jealousy he felt at their easy contact, “did you and Ao’nung get into it again? You seem to be focusing on him a lot recently?”

“N-no,” he watched Tsireya’s ears perk a little at that, a small smile quirking her lips.

Lo’ak smiled, “something more positive, then? Have you guys gotten close?”

He did not say anything, there was nothing to say. Here he was, jealous of his brother for openly showing his affection for Tsireya, imagining himself in the same situation but with a larger, more blunt, opinionated sibling.

His faced dropped in Neteyam’s silence, confusion lacing his words, “wait. . . really? Fish Lips?” confusion turned to a smile, “I was only messing with you before but, ok,” a wide smile. “He makes you happy, then?”

Leaning away he fell back on his palms, thinking. There was something different about the world when he was with Ao’nung. He did not have to worry about every new thing; he did not have to worry so much about his siblings getting into trouble or getting hurt. Sometimes he even found himself letting go of them a little bit, choosing to let them out of his sight in favour of spending just a little bit more time with Ao’nung. He felt free when he was with him. “Yeah. He does.” Tsireya’s ears perked and he knew he was screwed, there was no way she could keep something like this from her brother, they were just as close as he was with his siblings.

“That is the most appalling thing I have ever heard,” Lo’ak’s hand found his shoulder. “I’m proud of you, brother.”

“Ha! You are the one that has not let Tsireya take a breath without you in her space for months.” He looked to Lo’ak’s shoulder where Tsireya’s head had taken up post as soon as they had been allowed to socialize. Their hands were entwined and Tsireya absentmindedly played with Lo’ak’s pinky.

Lo’ak looked down, nuzzling the top of her head affectionately, “yeah. . . we did alright did we not?”

His voice was softer than Neteyam thought possible for his brother, it made his heart ache. For all his talk, him and Ao’nung were not really anything. Just a one-sided infatuation. He smiled at Lo’ak, messing his hair a bit before getting up. It was time to find out what was on Ao’nung’s mind. He slipped out of the party and into the forest in search of an ethereal cove. Hoping for the best, preparing for the worst.

He had a terrible feeling he was not in for an easy night.

Chapter Text

When he saw the familiar terrain surrounding the cove he started jogging, breaking through the thick brush, flying into the cove. Ao’nung was not there though. Of course he was not, eclipse was still an hour off. His disappointment was unfounded, but it was still there. Sitting on the edge of the shore he moved his hand through the water letting the slow movement on his skin sooth his nerves.

He listened to the animals move around the forest, a few mustering the courage to push through the brush to peek at the newcomer. Moving onto the sea, he heard the Ilu’s playing around in the centralized pen clicking and calling to each other. Calling out for Telma, his own Ilu, he waited to hear her familiar clicks and calls. When she emerged he found himself smiling, she was beautiful, strong, fierce. There was many a time she had saved him when he got too adventurous and stayed underwater too long, pulling him to the surface when he got too weak from lack of breath. Stroking her neck he listened to her chirp, waiting patiently for the fish he always gave her when he called to her, “I’m sorry, kalin. I do not have any fish tonight.” Her sad chirps  pulled a laugh from him, “I will bring double tomorrow?” she whined happily, swimming a few tight circles before coming back for more attention.       [name // sweetie; roughly]

She jumped from the water trying to flop onto his legs, getting excited, trying to get him on her back for a late-night ride. “Hey, now, I cannot go out riding at the moment. . . I am waiting for someone, actually. I am sorry.” She chirped a few times before dropping her head back into his lap, settling for his pats.

---

“Lo’ak,” she was so happy, and so comfortable. She lay in the arms of the most adoring boy she had ever met, one that was not of her clan, but felt like her home nonetheless. Lo’ak had arrived in her village only mere months ago but she had felt like she had known him from their first meeting. He was everything she was not; defiant, strong, outspoken, confident, courageous. She could go on for hours but her brother needed her now. That trumped everything. As much as Lo’ak had come to mean to her, her brother was her whole heart. He was the only reason she was able to live her life freely, taking on the responsibilities passed onto them by their parents. He was her rock, her soul.

“Hmm?” she felt Lo’ak’s answer more than she heard it, the vibrations running through his chest to her cheek, “what is it, ma txampay?”       [term of endearment; my ocean]

She giggled, the warm feeling in her heart growing all the more, but she could not let it overpower her love for her brother, “I need to go to ma tsmukan. He needs me right now.” She could only hope he would understand.       [my brother]

“Ok. . . I will miss you, though,” she looked up at him, not quite ready to move out of his warmth. She drank in the tenderness in his eyes.

She laughed again when a playful light leaked through the tenderness, the doubt in her heart gone, “I will miss you as well, ma na’rìng.”       [term of endearment; my forest]

Reluctantly she disengaged herself from Lo’ak’s warm embrace, seeking out her brother. Looking over all of the smiling faces she tried to find him and came up with nothing. Where the hell could he have gone? It is not like he is very stealthy. . . the boy had a fan club wherever he went. As she scanned though, she saw each and every one of Ao’nung’s friends in the crowd, when her eyes fell on Rotxo, though, staring at Kiri with shining eyes she got a little worried. If Rotxo was not with her brother, who was? She would never say it out loud, but she was happy when Ao’nung had finally let the younger boy in. He had mellowed her brother out a lot in the time since they had become friends, Ao’nung got in a lot less trouble now. When she saw her father she rushed over, he would know where Ao’nung had apparently run off to. “Sempul!”       [Father]

Her fathers face lit up and she could not help but return his smile, “maite lor! How are you?” he stood up not even acknowledging those around him. One thing her father was both good and bad at; his children were everything to him and he sometimes forgot that important people from neighbouring villages did not appreciate being ignored in favour of children. . . she could not help but love that quality about him most.       [my beautiful daughter; roughly]

“I am well, sempul.” She gave him a hug, “do you know where Ao’nung has gone?”       [father]

He looked around trying to track down his other offspring, “he was going to get a breath of fresh air, I think. The beach maybe? That boy can only socialize so long.” She heard the disproval in his tone but chose to ignore the jab. Her father was usually harmless, just liked to talk out loud. Sometimes that was worse than their mother’s outright displeasure, though.

“Thank you, sempul,” she hugged him again.       [father]

“Fraw fpi maite.” He accepted the affection gratefully burying a hand in her hair for a brief moment before they split.      [anything for my daughter; roughly]

She gestured to him ‘I See You,’ waiting for her father to answer before running off to the main shores. “Tsmukan! Tsmukan! Where have you gone? Tsmukan!”

“Tsireya?”

She heard him, just beyond where she was. Jogging over, she plopped herself beside where he sat watching the water, “What are you doing out here?”

“Just thinking. . .” his voice was calm and she almost did not want to tell him. He so rarely saw a serene moment. This news though, she was almost positive that Ao’nung would strangle her is she did not tell him about what Neteyam said.

“Well think faster cause I have some great news for you,” she could not sit still, her tail swishing and her feet tapping in the water.

“Hmm? What news?” his ears perked but he was still keeping his voice even. Typical.

“Well. . . I was just with Lo’ak-“

“Surprise, surprise,” she tsked, rapping him on the side of the head lightly.

“. . . and Neteyam,” he looked at her, his playfulness gone now, “they were talking about us, about you. You and Neteyam. . . he feels something more for you, tsmukan. Maybe not the same, but he does feel for you.”

“. . . really?”

“Yeah,” she smiled at him, loving that she could bring him great news, “oh, and he went off into the forest. Maybe you should follow him?”

“What? It is too early though. . .”

Curious. . . “too early for what?”

“Nothing, nothing. I will see you later. . .” he stood, looking at her with a tender expression, “thank you.”

“Oh, boo. You are too serious tsmukan. . . Now I am even more curious.”

“Guess you are just going to have to stay curious.” He smiled, ruffling her hair before jogging off down the shore.

She had half a mind to follow him so she could eavesdrop, “of course.”

When his silhouette disappeared she got up, heading back to Lo’ak. She was really missing him now, she wanted to share the good news with him. She wanted to see his smile. She turned around heading back to the celebration.

---

The sky was brighter than usual tonight, the bioluminescent decorations Ao’nung and him had gathered earlier making the celebrations grounds glow as brightly as if it were daytime. The light reached all the way out here, it seems. He had just about calmed down, his eyes closed. He heard the disturbed water before he saw Ao’nung, blushing at the soft expression on Ao’nung’s face. He was looking at Neteyam like his mother looked at his father.

He looked back at Telma, hiding his face as Ao’nung sat down close to him, “hey,” his voice was soft, hesitant.

“Hey,” he peeked at Ao’nung quickly. He was in the same ceremonial outfit he had worn when they had talked before the feast, the reds and blues contrasting perfectly with his skin, “have you talked to Tsireya?”

“Um, yeah. She was being very cryptic, said I needed to find you quickly. She looked really excited about something and said you had disappeared into the forest. . .”

“Oh?”

“I was a little worried when she mentioned you had run off though. It is not eclipse yet, is something wrong?”

Neteyam looked up again, Ao’nung was right, there was at least another half hour before eclipse passed, “nothing serious, just got a little antsy is all.” He looked down in an attempt to hide his oncoming blush, “Lo’ak and Tsireya were getting super close after your dads speech-“

“Gross,” Ao’nung scrunched his nose.

“I was kind of jealous actually. . .” he frowned; he really did not expect to let that bit of information slip. He was not sure who was more surprised, him, or Ao’nung.

“You? Jealous of your brother?” he almost looked. . . hurt? “is-is it because of Tsireya?”

“No! I mean. . .” his mouth thinned into a line, trying to find the right words to explain.

“It is fine, Tree Boy. You do not need to explain yourself to me. I understand.” He got up to leave.

Shooting up behind him, he tried not to trip over himself trying to grab Ao’nung’s wrist. He could really move fast when he wanted to. “No, Ao’nung. . . I am jealous of them. Not of Lo’ak.

Ao’nung did not turn around, but his voice oozed with confusion, “what do you mean?”

He tugged Ao’nung’s arm, urging him to turn around, needing to see his face. When he did, his eyes were guarded, and that hurt, but just seeing them helped endlessly, “They looked so free; free to express their feelings. Confident enough to do so publicly.” He stroked the inside of Ao’nung’s wrist, “they were cuddling in public and I was jealous of them.”

“Why?” he looked down at the confusion and mild accusation in his tone. Did he not know? Could he not see how Neteyam felt. See it in his eyes that he wanted so much to do all those things with him. Hold his hand. Bury his face in his neck. Hug him. Cuddle. All of it. Everything.

He stepped away, putting plenty of space between them. He was not sure if he could get these next words out if he could feel the heat radiating off of Ao’nung, smell his unique scent, feel his breath on his face. “Ok, fine. You want to hear it out loud? Great, here we go. . .” he took a steadying breath, “I am jealous because the only time I have ever felt free to do anything in my life, even to feel, is when I am with you, Ao’nung.” He looked up again and what he saw in his eyes shocked him, “Ao’nung?” he saw the self-doubt and uncertainty he felt reflected back at him.

Ao’nung stepped toward him and his heart picked up, “I feel the same, Tree Boy,” he took another step. The closer Ao’nung got, the more emotion Neteyam found in his eyes. Another step, affection. Another step, hope. Now they stood, toe to toe, staring at each other with bated breath. Neither knew how to break the silence, the tension between them.

He felt Ao’nung’s fingers caress his wrist, continuing up, lightly moving along his forearm. Neteyam’s breath caught in his throat and he continued to search Ao’nung’s eyes, looking for an explanation, distracting himself from the sensation steadily climbing within him, mirroring the path of Ao’nung’s fingers. Could it even be possible for Ao’nung to feel the same? He was the Olo’eyktan’s son, fierce and loyal, proud. Was it even feasible to hope he could fall for an outsider? Ao’nung’s fingers continued, over his elbow, up his bicep, “Ao’nung.” His shoulder, “please.” His neck, “say something.” His cheek.

Neteyam’s heart could not be any louder, he was sure Ao’nung could hear it. “Neteyam,” everything stopped at once, his heart, his thoughts, his breathing. “I See You.” Ao’nung moved his face in, now with only a breath separating them he stopped. Hi eyes wanting, but there was fear there, fear of rejection. He was waiting for Neteyam to pull away.

As if! Before he could talk himself out of it, he closed the distance between them, kissing Ao’nung softly. Just a soft brush of the lips, testing the waters if you will. The thrill of kissing Ao’nung sent through him had him leaning in again, this time though with more pressure. . .

And again, longer this time. . .

And again, this time Ao’nung moved in response, his lips pushing back into Neteyam’s. The thrill from before dwarfed by what he felt now, excited. . .  free. He wanted more. Bringing his hands up he brought one to cup Ao’nung’s cheek the other to hold his waist.

Ao’nung sucked in a breath leaning in to give him another kiss before pulling back to breathe. His breathing just as laboured as Neteyam’s. He found that he liked seeing Ao’nung out of breath, face flushed, lips swollen from his kisses. It was addicting. “Neteyam. . .”

He shivered, “I like the way you say my name.” His voice was rough, like he had been yelling for hours. Clearing his throat he let himself focus on Ao’nung. Exploring him with his fingers. His skin was soft. Softer than he was used to, softer than any Omatikayan’s. . . like the skin of an Ilu. His jaw was sharp and his waist thick. His stomach was hard, muscles defined. He probably had 50 pounds on Neteyam in bulk alone.

“Neteyam. . .”

The serious note swimming in his languid tone had him putting his exploration on hold. He left his hand splayed on Ao’nung’s stomach. There was only so much self control one could exert. “What is it?”

Chapter Text

“I was kind of jealous actually. . .” Neteyam looked guilty and that look hit him straight in the chest. The feeling was something akin to Neteyam taking a knife, gutting him and stepping on his heart.

“You? Jealous of your brother?” he was almost scared to hear the answer, there was really only one reason Neteyam would be jealous of Lo’ak; he liked Tsireya. . . could he have been playing with his heart this entire time? Biding his time with one sibling while pining over another. . . a cheap replacement? Even though the words felt like stones in his heart he asked the question that had taken over his mind, “is-is it because of Tsireya?”

Neteyam looked surprised, “no! I mean. . .” he squeezed his lips together, probably trying to find the words to let him down easy. ‘Play nice’ those were his fathers orders after all, and Neteyam would never defy them.

He thought back to Tsireya’s excitement at the news that Neteyam had feelings for him. . . had she misunderstood that badly, or could there really be a chance that this entire conversation was one massive misunderstanding? He doubted it, “it is fine, Tree Boy.” It is most definitely not fine and my heart is being torn to shreds at this very moment. “ You do not need to explain yourself to me.” You really do. . . how could you do this to me? “ I understand.” I do not understand.

Even with his mind screaming for answers he plastered a blank expression on his face, and exact copy of the one worn so often by Neteyam. When he thought he was not doing enough. When his parents blamed him for things he could not control. When he found out his siblings were missing, injured, or distressed about something. The look used to break his heart, he always felt the insane need to reach out and hug the boy every time he saw his features fall into blankness. Now, now he understood why Neteyam wore this mask. It was the only way to get through something like this.

The cold embrace of nothingness was infinitely more appealing than the sickening hold of rejection.

He got up, fully intending to leave without giving Neteyam a second look.

Neteyam’s hand wrapped around his wrist, feeling like an iron brand burning through his flesh and he hated himself for stopping, “No, Ao’nung. . .” he contemplated tearing his hand away, the searing pain from the contact almost too much to bear but the horrified note in Neteyam’s voice had him stopping completely. “I am jealous of them. Not of Lo’ak.”

His heart skipped, but he refused to jump to conclusions. Not now. He wanted so badly to believe that this was all a misunderstanding, but he had been disappointed before. . . any time he had opened up to a person they used that to get under his skin and try to get something from him. Usually favour with his mother or father, occasionally they used him to get close to Tsireya, which is why this particular betrayal hurt so much. These experiences, occurring numerous times throughout his childhood, were the main reasons he had not ever really opened up to any of his friends now. . . even Rotxo. He had opened up to Neteyam, trusted him, more than he had any other person in is life, despite his bad experiences in the past. He would not let Neteyam back in until he heard the full explanation. Then he would decide, with all of the facts, “what do you mean?” He felt a tug on his wrist and as much as the echoing pain from minutes ago was still strong, the hope that he really was something more to Neteyam won in the end. He had a feeling it always would.

Turning around he tried to gauge exactly what Neteyam meant, searching his eyes as best he could. What he found was a flood of emotions he did not think was possible to see in Neteyam who was always, always careful about hiding. “They looked so free; free to express their feelings.” Neteyam looked away but he could swear he saw shame swirling in the depths of his eyes. “Confident enough to do so publicly.” Neteyam stroked the inside of his wrist, right along the pulse point, sending his heart into flutters, “they were cuddling in public and I was jealous of them.”

“Why?” He needed to hear Neteyam say it.

Neteyam moved away, he looked a little scared of the answer. Ao’nung wanted to go to him, hug him, tell him he did not have to answer, that he was sorry and did not mean to make him feel uncomfortable. . . he really needed to hear this answer, though. He needed confirmation once and for all. If Neteyam could only offer him friendship, it would break his heart but he would get over it. . . eventually. And if Neteyam truly had room in his heart to welcome Ao’nung. . . well, he would be the happiest Na’vi on Pandora. “Ok, fine,” His ears snapped to attention, his full interest on Neteyam. “You want to hear it out loud? Great, here we go. . .” Neteyam looked at him then, the resolve in his eyes absolute. Here we go indeed. “I am jealous because the only time I have ever felt free to do anything in my life, even to feel, is when I am with you, Ao’nung.”

And there it was. . . short, sweet, to the point. Straight through the heart. . .

Neteyam’s eyes found his again and he used the soothing yellow as a beacon in the storm roaring through his mind. “Ao’nung?”

Stepping forward he waited for Neteyam to step away. He did not, “I feel the same, Tree Boy,” he took another step giving him the same opportunity to get away. Again, he did not, so he took another and another, until they were toe to toe. He waited. . . maybe this was going too fast. They had only just found out about each others feelings. How did these things work? He felt suddenly stupid for never paying attention to his friends before, he had always assumed he would just know what to do. Like, his instincts would take over and everything would be perfect, no thoughts necessary, but as he stood here his instincts were screaming: ‘kiss him,’ but his mind was whirling with a million different possibilities for how that could end badly.

Was it really his instincts or just his hormones? Despite the warring thoughts and emotions, he lifted his hand to caress Neteyam’s wrist lightly, needing to feel him in any way possible. Moving up his forearm slowly he watched the way Neteyam’s eyes dilated, up past his elbow to his bicep, his breath quickened, to his shoulder, “Ao’nung,” there was a warning in his tone, Neteyam’s eyes searching, he moved up again to his neck, “please.” Sweet desperation, “say something,” his cheek.

Neteyam’s eyes begged him to do something, mirroring his desperate words and yet, despite his innate need to do exactly what Neteyam was asking for he paused, leaving his hand to cup Neteyam’s cheek tenderly, “Neteyam,” he wanted to tease him, draw the moment out. . . revel in the sweet tension building between them. He knew Neteyam wanted to kiss him and he so desperately wanted that too, but there was a certain. . . excitement in seeing Neteyam strain forward, wanting. He leaned his head closer still to Neteyam, letting him choose their next course, no matter how hard it may be to hold back, not look at his tempting lips, keeping his eyes forward and open, looking Neteyam in the eyes. (Im)patiently waiting. . . he wanted to test how far Neteyam’s resolve stretched.

Moments later Neteyam surged froward their lips connecting softly. . . it was the greatest thing he had ever felt. The feeling came back again when Neteyam kissed him again, and again for the third time. By the fourth his mind had finally caught up to the situation and he caught Neteyam’s cheek again, pushing his lips back onto his. He could not seem to stop himself; did not want to stop himself. Especially when Neteyam’s hand mirrored his own, cupping Ao’nung’s cheek. The other pulling him closer by the waist.

Sucking in a small breath he gave Neteyam one final kiss before the need for air finally burned through his thick skull. There was also a nagging thought in the back of his mind; could he really bring Neteyam back into the life of a leader of a clan. . . he had looked so relieved when they had talked about it. The idea that he no longer had the responsibility on his shoulder of being the Olo’eyktan of the Omatikaya had him smiling, and Ao’nung understood that relief. Even though he was excited at the prospect of one day leading his People, sometimes it was stressful and pained him. The training was long and harsh, the decisions were final and it was mentally exhausting. Being the mate of the Olo’eyktan was just as difficult. He saw it in the way his mothers shoulders sagged when she thought no one was around. He saw it in the way stress lines have appeared on her forehead even though she was still young. Could he, in good conscience bring Neteyam back into that life?

 Pulling back he focused on sucking air into his lungs, controlling his erratic heartbeat. Neteyam was looking at him which made his practiced, nearly perfect, control over his body and heart waver. His eyes were glowing, bright yellow in the night, his lips were swollen and his chest heaved and Ao’nung found himself staring, unable to look away, “Neteyam. . .”  

A shiver flowed through Neteyam, a smirk pulling at the edge of his lips, “I like the way you say my name,” his voice was rough, eyes still dilated. He cleared his throat, getting closer to Ao’nung, running his fingers everywhere he could reach. He let himself bask in the attention, wishing he could forget about the question nagging at the back of his mind.

“Neteyam. . .” he placed a hand over Neteyam’s in hopes of stilling them. Luckily something got through to him and he stopped, eyes coming back into focus.

“What is it?” his voice was alert, no trace of his loose, flirty tone from before. . . Ao’nung almost missed it.

Chapter Text

“I need to ask you something, but I. . .” he paused, looking as if he were struggling hard to find the right words. He squeezed his cheek lightly, rubbing his thumb along Ao’nung’s cheekbone in comfort, “I do not want to assume anything.”

Ao’nung frowned, seemingly waiting for confirmation, “ok. . . go ahead,” he tried to sound encouraging.

Ao’nung looked like he was about ready to hit the ground running. “Do-do you like me?”

He let out a surprised breath, smiling, “you skxawng, of course I like you. Do not scare me like that again! I thought you were about to tell me you had Lo’ak killed for being difficult,” he brought his hands up, framing Ao’nung’s face, forcing those beautiful blue eyes to rise to his, “why do you think I kissed you?” he laughed, “so many times. Why do you think I was jealous of Lo’ak and Tsireya?”

“B-“

“I wanted to do those things with you, skxawng,” he flicked Ao’nung’s ear.

“But. . .”

“What?”

“It will be hard. . .”

He looked at Ao’nung, utterly confused, “when is it not?” he searched Ao’nung’s eyes, trying to figure out what the hell this guy was so afraid of. What could possibly be weighing this hard on his mind? “just ask me rons’nìnän. You cannot expect me to guess, no?”       [mindless; stupid/dummy]

“Will you be my mate?” his heart skipped. He really should have expected that, but he had not. Of course he wanted to, but could he? He could not help but think of how their parents would react. The implications of their relationship on the dynamics of both the Metkayina and Omatikaya clans. Same sex relationships may not be uncommon among the People, but they were both sons’ of Olo’eyktan’s, groomed and trained to take over themselves. A relationship like this had never been seen before.

---

“Will you be my mate?” he winced at how unfeeling and clinical the question came out. . . it is generally tradition to create a private, loving moment with your partner. He has heard the legends of his fathers proposal to his mother – not expected by anyone, firstly because they were a promised pair before they could walk, and second because his parents were not known to have been overly close before this – it was rumored to have been the proposal of the generation. His father had spent weeks, months even, clearing out and decorating a cove along the edge of the island in preparation before spending another few weeks hunting for the perfect piece of sea glass, carving it into a modest accessory.

His mother had never been one for jewelry as a born hunter and so this was the perfect gift. His mother still wore the sea glass charm to this day, it could always be found tied into her hair.

Their mating had been one of duty and love, a pairing to be envied by all. They still visited the cove often, sneaking away for date nights and time away from him and Tsireya. No matter how it got out, at least it was out there, he could worry about a grand gesture in the future. Neteyam looked completely blown away though, as if he had not really ever considered it, “you do not think this is an option for us?” he could not help the hurt evident in his voice. . . it did hurt.

Neteyam’s eyes softened, “of course I did, but. . . hmm,” he stopped, lips thinning in concentration for the second time this night. He plopped onto the ground and Ao’nung followed suit, staying close but not quite touching, suddenly awkward. Neteyam’s hand sat on his knee, easily an invitation for Ao’nung to grab it, but he hesitated. By nature the Metkayina were not really ones for physical contact outside of families. . . and not really inside either. He wanted to though.

The Omatikaya were, at least so he had heard, very much into physical affection. With everyone. He had watched the Sully’s interacting and he believed it. Their parents were always touching in some way or another and the siblings did not shy away from a pat on the back, a hand on the shoulder, a small child attached to their side.

Neteyam reached out, grabbing his hand and lacing their fingers together without so much as a stray thought crossing his mind, “how do I put this,” his fingers began rubbing the palm of Ao’nung’s hand and he was having the hardest time concentrating on anything but the movement of Neteyam’s fingers, too busy marveling at the easy contact. How much he was truly enjoying it probably for the first time in his life, “my parents,” he jumped, forgetting that they were talking, “when they were preparing me to take over our clan from my dad, they were adamant I was to be a good, fair leader. Keeping my people safe and producing heirs to continue our traditions and family. It is the same for you, is it not?”

He cringed, thinking of the hundreds of times his parents had pulled him aside to tell him about his future duties. . . usually after he had made a mistake, “it is. I am very familiar with the speech.” Neteyam nodded, as if that was the answer he was looking for.

“So, with all of your traditions here; the approvals and rituals. . . will your parents approve of me?” Neteyam’s fingers stopped rubbing, prompting him to look up at him, “I am a Na’vi with no home. I cannot go back to the forest, and I obviously do not belong in the oceans. . . I can only barely stay underwater long enough to hunt and I am weak. . . I likely will not ever be able to gift you with an heir.” The insecurity laced in his tone pulled at Ao’nung’s heart.

He squeezed Neteyam’s hand. They really were a perfect match; two sides of the same stone, thoughts and worries always on the same wavelength. “Ok, one, you are still learning and getting better every day. Do not discount your progress skxawng. Though, I have thought about this a lot, too.” Neteyam smiles at him and he could almost believe everything will be perfectly alright. But that was not reality. “I am willing to step away from being the next Olo’eyktan-“       [idiot]

“Ao’nung, no,” Neteyam pleaded with him, his eyes showing his utter disproval.

Shaking his head he cupped Neteyam’s cheek, looking him dead in the eyes, if he had to, he would do anything to be able to stand beside Neteyam, “if it means I can be with you, yes.”

“No, I cannot let you do this,” Neteyam shook his head vigorously. Normally he found his stubbornness cute, and he did even now, but he had made up his mind and he needed Neteyam to see just how serious he was being here.

“You will have to.” He ducked to find Neteyam’s gaze again,” if I am to be Olo’eyktan, it will be with you at my side. If that cannot happen, I will not be Olo’eyktan.” He stopped breathing, waiting for Neteyam to shut him down again, ready to keep fighting this, ready to convince him that he was worth the sacrifice. Worth all of it.

Neteyam look stricken, “let me at least try to figure something out. . . I know you have been looking forward to leading your people, even if you do not show it. I would not be able to live with my self if I were the reason this was taken from you.”

He let himself let out the breath he was holding, giving Neteyam a small, hopeful smile, “I- uh, actually have a bit of an idea, but I am not sure if it is even feasible,” Neteyam returned the smile, expectant look in his eyes.

“Ok, lets hear it,” he sounded determined and Ao’nung loved him for it.

“Tsireya is my mothers Tsakarem already and we know we do not need to be mated to be able to lead the clan together. So the biggest problem would be heirs. . .” he knew what the best case scenario was, but the backup was what had been haunting him since he had dared to think it up, “of course, we hope and pray to our Great Mother that she blesses up with the incredible joy of having children. On the other hand I can talk to Tsireya. . . I know she wants children in her future.” He closed his eyes, afraid of what Neteyam might think.      [Tsahìk in training; future Tsahìk]

Neteyam just nodded in understanding, “but you do not want to trap her.”

“Exactly,” he let Neteyam pull him into his chest, “what if she does not want children in a few years?”

“Then we deal with that problem when it comes to it. We need to talk to Tsireya though.” Neteyam placed a soft kiss on his forehead, “but first, sleep. It is getting late. My parents will hang me as it is.”

“Wait. . . there is something else,” he pinned his ears to his head when Neteyam looked at him confused. “You will not be able to go home once the Sky People are defeated. Not to live at least, you can visit of course. I would never even think to ban you from going home. You know, cause your family would be there, and all of your friends. . . and-“ he was rambling now, trying to explain away why Neteyam could not go back to the forest where he had grown up. The place he missed the most.

“I know,” his tone was matter of fact, no accusation evident.

He searched Neteyam’s eyes, “you-you do?” all he found reflected back at him was honesty and adoration.

“Yeah. . . it hurts, but I am willing to give it up for you.” His lips lifted into a little half smile, “besides, I can still visit.”

“Neteyam. . .”

“Really, it is fine. It is not so bad here, actually. I think I could grow to love it just as much as the forest,” Neteyam smiled again, “you are here, so I will be happy.”

He smiled, kissing Neteyam on the tip of the nose, “tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow.” Leaning away from him he stood up holding a hand out for Neteyam, pulling him up to stand.

Keeping his hand clasped with Neteyam’s he turned toward the water, heading over to the edge of the cave system but Neteyam did not move, “are you ok?”

Neteyam looked amused, “we just finished talking about how I cannot hold my breath very long or swim all that well, but you want me to follow you through some caves?”

He had a feeling he knew where this was going and he did not like it one bit, “. . . yes?”

That was successful in pulling a laugh from Neteyam, “come Water Boy. Let me show you the way we do it in the forest.”

He hated it when he was right, “you do not mean-“

“I do. We are going to go and swing through the trees. You will need the practice if you are going to visit my home one day.” The smile on Neteyam’s face was wide, a mix of joy from being in a place that reminded him of home and from pulling Ao’nung along with him. He could not tell which one was the motivation, but he had a sneaking suspicion Neteyam really enjoyed watching him slip and trip like a toddler.

He rolled his eyes, but could not help the smile that took up residence on his face. Making future plans with Neteyam got his heart racing and he could not wait to see what awaited them, “fine, fine, but I am not jumping off the branches. I still think you were just trying to kill me off.”

Neteyam laughed as he dragged him through the bush into the dense forest. He sighed trying to remember what Neteyam had taught him the day before. Just do not fall face first into the dirt. . . again. The look of joy on Neteyam’s face when he started jogging, jumping, and swinging though, had him following the boy.

He was still clumsy, making stupid mistakes here and there, but he was picking up the flow of the forest fairly well. Jumping when he should, ducking when he should. They were running now, laughing, playing around, him just behind Neteyam, focused on catching the boy and he would have, if his foot had not gotten caught in a knotted branch sending him flying forward letting out a grunt as he prepared to meet the hard ground. Neteyam turned around, lunging for him and then they were both falling. Ao’nung landing on top of Neteyam, in the forest, once again.

Neteyam laughed from underneath him, seemingly unfazed by his weight, “what?”

“Nothing, nothing, just a little bit of déjà vu, no?”

They both laughed at that and he brushed some stray braids off of Neteyam’s face, “this time, though, I can act on my fantasies.”

“Wha-“

He did not give him time to finish, leaning down to capture Neteyam’s lips, kissing him. Neteyam smiled into the kiss, eagerly reciprocating his efforts. Neteyam opened his legs and he settled more comfortably between them while Neteyam shads snaked up his back and into his hair. When he felt his hair falling loose over his back he pulled away, mock horror on his face, “hey! It took forever to get it perfect,” his mock offense did not faze Neteyam in the slightest.

“Oops,” he did not look apologetic in the slightest if the teasing smirk on his face was any indication so he kissed it away.

“I think I might grow to love the forest yet. . . it always seems to get me close to you, hmm?” Neteyam laughed and he got up, pulling him with him before brushing off his back. They headed off in the direction of the village again, they may or may not have stopped a time or two again to ‘discuss.’

Chapter Text

“Tsireya! Over here!” Looking over she saw Lo’ak open on the opposite side of the ‘court,’ she lobbed the ball at him, hard, so that there was no chance of interference from the opposite team.

“Go! Nets open!” She cheered when he caught the ball and cheered harder still when he threw it straight into the net, “yes!” she urged her Ilu straight for him, launching herself into his arms once she was close enough, hugging him tight. Giving him a light kiss on his cheek she hugged him again, looking over his shoulder towards the shore where she noticed her brother waving her down. Pulling back from Lo’ak she waved to everyone, “I have to go, I will see you all later!” She turned back to Lo’ak who had taken to pouting over her departure, “oh, I will see you later ma na’rìng.”      [term of endearment; my forest]

“Too long. . .”

Laughing she rode to the edge of their court while he followed, “I know, but it cannot be helped. I need to go and see my tsmukan.”       [brother]

He sighed deeply, looking stricken, “fine, fine.” His smile returned and made her heart go off in a loop again, “I will see you later, for sure.”

Diving under the ropes she turned back to wave before heading straight for Ao’nung who had, at some point, sat down on the shore looking a little too happy despite his having to wait for her to swim over, “what is it, tsmukan? Why are you so happy?” normally by now he would have already insulted Lo’ak and his entire family line. . . twice. Instead, he just sat, smiling at her. She scrunched her face in confusion.

He just kept on smiling, patting the sand beside him quickly, urging her to sit beside him, “can I not just sit with my sister on a  beautiful morning?”

She looked around, the sun was shining and the temperature was perfect; not too hot, not too cold, very little humidity if her hairs co-operation this morning was any indication, which it was. It really was the perfect day, but it was like many others. The exact same as yesterday and likely would be the same tomorrow, “I suppose not.” She looked out, watching the other children playing for a while, hoping Ao’nung would work his way up to telling her what was on his mind.

“Hey,” she turned to the new voice to see Neteyam approaching from their right, he was smiling just as brightly as Ao’nung and her mind began to chew on this new development.

“Good morning, Neteyam. I trust you slept well?” she smiled easily at the oldest Sully. They had formed a tentative friendship in their time spent together while she taught them. She liked the boy. He was quiet and learned well, but simply too subdued in comparison to his younger brother whom she could not help but fall for.

“I did. Thank you.” He did not even look in her direction, eyes aimed just above her head, clinging to Ao’nung, “morning.”

It was casual, but there was also something so personal about the way Neteyam was looking at him. “Hey,” her brother smiled, which blew her away more than when he motioned for Neteyam to sit beside him rather than letting the boy choose on his own.

“. . . wait. . .” no, it cannot be! So fast. . . “Tsmukan, you really work fast,” she could not help the squeal of excitement that escaped her throat and Neteyam looked at her confused but Ao’nung smirked.”

“What can I say, I get what I want.” Neteyam cuffed him on the side of the head, hissing in annoyance and he laughed, eyes shining.

“Skxawng, you were a fumbling mess!” Despite his mumbling, Neteyam was smiling as well.      [moron/idiot]

“You still said yes though, so. . .” that earned him a flick on the ear and another hiss. “Tsireya,” his voice had gotten serious, hand snaking out to find Neteyam’s, “you want children in your future, no? That has not changed?” he almost sounded timid.

She cocked her head to the side, confused by the line of questioning, Ao’nung had never really been interested in her fantasies of a future family before. . . “of course. I have always dreamed of having a large family one day.” The face of a certain Omatikaya popped into her mind, her courageous troublemaker. Certainly her vision had changed slightly over the years, the complexion of her perfect lover darkened, eyes sharpened to a predatorial yellow from soft blues, and her babies had changed as well. . . some sporting cute, tiny tails, endearing yellow eyes, and one too many fingers. Smacking her cheeks she tried to banish the heat rising in them, “why do you ask, you knew this already. . .” but, now it was different, was it not. . . she tried to remember at any point in their history where there had been a same sex couple in power. She came up with nothing, “oh. Right,” she looked down. This could be a problem, one she was not sure how they could fix.

While it was not against any traditions for Neteyam to be trained as the clans Tsahìk, that still left the problem of heirs. She had no qualms about having children in the future, but would her heirs be accepted as pure? She was not Olo’eyktan, she was a Tsakarem. “Yeah. . .” his voice was filled with indecision.      [Tsahìk in training]

“Do not worry tsmukan, I am sure our Great Mother will find a worthy tìmuntxa in you two. You have a blessed future awaiting you, I can feel it.” With that promising future though, the impeding dread of a broken heart in the even nearer future was looming ever closer still.        [brother // mating]

“Tuk! What are you doing!” Neteyam was now focused on his youngest sister who looked to be fishing around the shallow waters alone, “sorry, excuse me. She was supposed to be staying with Kiri today.”

With that he gave Ao’nung a quick kiss on the cheek before running off after Tuk who had run even further out into the water. Once they were alone Ao’nung turned to her again, “what is troubling you? You have wrinkles forming with how concentrated you are,” his fingers pushed between her brows, smoothing out the worry lines.

She looked out, watching Neteyam lift Tuk out of the water, spinning her around a few times before setting her on his hip, both sporting huge smiles. Sighing she turned back to him, “I can still feel an immense negative energy to come across your life. And soon. It is getting closer and closer each day, tsmukan. I am worried for you.” She chewed on her lip, “I just do not understand what it could be. . .”

“It will be alright, I’m sure,” she did not believe him. The look on his face held a note of worry and she knew he was feeling uneasy as well. He pulled her into a hug, “thank you, asim tsmuke.”       [dearest sister; roughly]

---

He was still thinking about the catastrophic event Tsireya had sensed coming. It definitely worried him, but when his eyes fell on the duo fishing ahead of him, he could not help but feel nothing would be able to ruin his good fortune now, not with Neteyam by his side. Neteyam and Tuk were perched on rocks in a segregated cove hunting by the looks of them, but not in the way the Metkayina usually hunted; within the water. They were tracking the fish lazily circling the cove, bows at the ready, when Neteyam pulled back he found himself staring a little too hard. He really was the most graceful thing Ao’nung had seen, his body moved fluidly, like the bow was just and extension of his arms, eyes sharp like a predators before he let loose the arrow killing the fish instantly. Tuk followed suit with her fish, albeit with less grace, but impressive nonetheless.

“So, this is how they do it in the forest, hmm?” Neteyam’s eye flicked to his own, a smile forming on his lips before he jumped into the small pool to retrieve their fish. Tuk crawled off of her perch, walking to stand before him, pinning him with a hard stare a moment, then launched herself at his chest pulling a surprised huff from him. She clung to him like one of his leather bands. He looked to Neteyam for help never having really held a child before in his life, but he just shrugged, smiling softly.

Tuk’s arms tightened, “I am tired and Neteyam will not carry me anymore. He only wants to train.” That was all the explanation he got before she shifted, tucking herself into his side and resting her forehead in his shoulder, the same way he had seen her do countless times with Neteyam.

Neteyam laughed mussing with Tuk’s hair like this was something completely normal to them and a fuzzy, warm feeling bloomed in his chest. He wrapped his arms around Tuk, holding her to his side as she went limp, her breathing evening out completely as she relaxed and he marvelled at the familiarity between them. The trust she must hold in him that allowed her to fall asleep in his arms shocked him. He looked at Neteyam, “what about tonight?” he knew Neteyam would know what he meant.

It was time to tell their parents. There was no reason to hold their relationship from them anymore, waiting would change nothing.

Neteyam nodded, “we can tell them at dinner, our parents are going to be together to discuss the Sky People anyway,” he scooted over giving Neteyam a quick kiss on the cheek and he felt Tuk smile into his shoulder, a matching smile on Neteyam’s face.

Neteyam laced their fingers together as they walked along the edge of the forest, Tuk still nestled in his arms. They did not talk, but they did not need to, the silence was comfortable and Tuk was soon asleep. After they lapped the village they headed over to the Sully’s Mauri, it was nearly time for their final meal by now, finding Jake and Neytiri cuddling near the fire, Lo’ak and Kiri playing some sort of finger game off in the corner. They all looked at them when they entered the doorway, while they had long since let go of each others hands they were still standing very close, Tuk sleeping in Ao’nung’s arms. Neytiri shot up, “oh, I am sorry. Did she make you carry her?”

Warding off her scolding he made sure Tuk did not wake, “it is alright, Neytiri, I do not mind at all. She is not very heavy and does not really move.” He turned back to them when Neytiri dropped her arms, confused, “she can stay with me if she does not wake up before mealtime? I really do not mind.” He backtracked, “unless you want her back?”

Neytiri just smiled at him, “it is fine, she will wake up when she smells food, but she can stay with you for now.” She gestured to their pod space, “would you like to stay here until mealtime? We are just biding time.”

He smiled at the invitation, “I would, thank you,” looking over to Neteyam he tilted his head, prompting him.

“Uh, mom?” Neteyam’s voice came out awkward and strained, the same tone he had when he had to tell his mother something he was not sure she would approve of.

Neytiri just continued smiling, eyes soft, “yes, dearest?”

“We are sitting with the Olo’eyktan and Tsahìk tonight, right?”

“Yes, we are,” her confusion returned and Jake looked over to them, interest alight in his eyes.

“Ok, we have something to tell all of you later, then,” subtle, very subtle. He bit his cheek to keep himself from laughing at the adorable blush creeping up Neteyam’s neck.

“Ok, maitan.” She seemed to know what was going on without being told, but she said nothing, just looking between the two of them, eyes knowing. Lo’ak and Kiri stayed quiet, but they were looking between them with bewildered looks, he just stuck his tongue out at the two over Tuk’s head. Lo’ak snorted and Kiri just laughed.

They heard the call for mealtime, heading over. Just like Neytiri had predicted, Tuk woke up as soon as they got close to the food, her excited chattering filling his ears, “ooh! It smells so good!” she did not wiggle out of his arms though, keeping her arms tight around his shoulders, “are we sitting with you, tsawl tsmu?” his heart squeezed at the nickname.      [big bro; roughly]

“Yes, you are.” He smiled, hand brushing against Neteyam’s affectionately. He turned back to Tuk, “do you want to walk now?”

She shook her head vigorously, “nah! You are quite comfy and I am still tired,” Neteyam laughed, deep and pure.

Neytiri turned and hissed at her daughter, “Tuk! That is not how you speak to the son of the Olo’eyktan!”

“I really do not mind.” He smiled, trying not to undercut Neytiri’s teaching manners to Tuk, “I was making conversation.” Neytiri nodded, but scolded Tuk again, reminding her to be polite.

They were sitting around a small fire, their food long eaten, making light conversation while the adults waited to dismiss the children before talking strategy. Neytiri though, was watching him and Neteyam intently, “boys, did you not have something to tell us?”

Far be it for her to forget, taking a breath, he looked to Neteyam who nodded, sitting up straight he addressed both of their parents, suddenly at a loss for words, “we, uh- we wanted to ask. . .”

Neteyam sat up beside him, finishing for him, “we would like to be mated in the future. We would like to ask permission before promising to each other,” he let out the breath he had been holding, grateful for Neteyam’s unending bravery.

His mother was the first to break rank from the shocked faces, “Maitan! I am so happy for you! Our Great Mother has blessed you with a good, strong, lifelong partner.” She cupped his cheek, then Neteyam’s voicing a quick thank you to Eywa. His father was next, nodding to them both, placing his hands atop his mothers.

Neytiri and Jake came up next, once his parents had backed away, Neytiri smiled wide, whispering, “I knew it! I love you,” she gave them both a quick hug, backing away to place a hand on Jakes bicep.

He looked them both over, pinning Ao’nung with a hard stare, “you will honour my son?”

He did not dare hesitate under the scrutiny of the Toruk Makto, “yes, sir,” he thanked Eywa that his voice sounded strong.

Jake nodded pulling them to his chest, “I am happy for you, my sons.” That fuzzy feeling from earlier returned to his chest and he smiled when Jake released them.

It was not long before his anxieties returned though, “we cannot produce heirs though. How can I be Olo’eyktan?”

His mother waves him off, “it is no matter to us, maitan.”

He furrowed his brows, “but, it is my duty. . .”

His father spoke this time, “it is one of your duties, yes, maitan. As it is your duty to lead this clan, which you can do, no matter who your mate may be. Heirs are only a very small part of your duty to this clan.” His father placed a hand on his shoulder and he looked into his eyes, “there have been many Olo’eyktan’s chosen for their strength and courage, not their bloodline or familial ties.” He gestured to Jake, “as you can see, Jake was not born of Pandora, but he made an exceptional Olo’eyktan to the Omatikaya, did he not?”

He nodded, blinking rapidly, “thank you,” he leaned his head into his fathers chest, “thank you.” His father opted to pull him into an embrace, holding him tight.

“We will announce this joyous news in the morning. You will be promised to the honourable Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk’itan, and he promised to you Ao’nung.”      [Neteyam Sully, son of Jake]

Chapter Text

Today was the day they were to have announced Ao’nung’s promised mate, but instead they were struck by a great tragedy. The Sky People, who were hunting the Sully’s and had been killing the Tulkun’s in their waters, were upon them, hunting just outside their reef.

“My Spirit Sister and her baby have been murdered by the Sky People.” His mothers voice cut through the voices of the People, silencing them immediately.

He could feel his peoples anger and sorrow and he felt it too, thinking of his own Spirit Brother, his father spoke now, “this war has come to us! We knew about this hunting of our Tulkun people, but it was over the horizon. Far away.” He slammed his spear into the ground, making his point. “Now, it is here,” the People cheered, agreeing. It was time for them to protect their people.

“You do not understand how the Sky People think. They do not care about the great balance.” Jake Sully spoke up, trying to reason with them. Getting absolutely nowhere. He did not have the same voice here as he had had within the Omatikaya People.

“Listen. Listen to him,” it was Neteyam this time, still holding the tracking device they removed from Roa. His heart ached, wanting to go over, show his support for Neteyam but his people were hurting and they needed him to be strong now. He needed to stand behind his father. No matter what.

Jake tries again, putting his hands out in a placating manner, trying to be heard over the shouting of the People, “these people are not going to stop. This is only the beginning. You have got to tell your Tulkun to leave.” That stopped them. . . telling the Tulkun to leave, only after they had just returned? “You have got to tell them to go far away!”

He could not be serious. Their Tulkun were a part of their People, they had every right to come here and to stay. “Leave!?” his mother voiced for them all, “you live among us and you learn nothing!”

“We will fight to protect our brothers and sisters!” They all cheered to that. That was the way of their people. They fought to protect their own. That included their Spirit brothers and sisters.

“No, no, no. No! If you attack, if you fight, then they will destroy you! They will destroy everything that you love!” He stopped at that, eyes locking onto Neteyam despite everything in him telling him he had to fight for his people, he could not look away. He could not fathom the Sky People taking him away. “Hear my words!” and he did.

His eyes were still on Neteyam, everything else going hazy while he watched his love try to help his father reason with them, “stay calm,” still holding the disengaged beacon, “stay calm,” a beacon that, if it were on, could lead them straight into a war they would more than likely lose to the Sky People. “Listen to my dad. He speaks the truth.” A war Neteyam would be taken from him in.

“Damnit!” Jake took the tracker from Neteyam and for some unknown reason it made Ao’nung feel a little better. Jake stood in front of everyone, holding the tracker high and he looked away from Neteyam, following everyone else’s gaze. Everyone quieted, waiting, “you tell the Tulkun that if they are hit by one of these, that they are marked for death.” Looking around he saw the defeated faces of his people while they finally let Jakes words sink in, “call for me. I will silence it.” He looked around, letting that sink in before starting again, once again reasoning, “saving their lives. . . that is all that matters. Right?” He looked to his father, “saving your family.”

He knew that would get his fathers attention. Even his mothers, her family and her People were her life and she would do anything to keep them safe. They both would. He watched his father lift his spear again before bringing it to the ground softly, his mother nodding her approval, “Tell the Tulkun.”

“Go.” Her words were final and there was no hesitation in their people, immediately calling for their Ilu and Skimwings. “Go!”

He watched Neteyam leave, following after Lo’ak. Turning to Tsireya he watched her watch Lo’ak leave, “come on, lets go after him.” He grabbed her hand, pulling her towards the edge of the platform, calling for their Ilu.

“Really? You too?”

He rolled his eyes at her, “yes, I will go too. I cannot have your little boyfriend dying now can I?” he smirked, “you would cry and then I would have to kill him again for making you cry, hmm? Nobody wants that.” He laughed.

She cuffed him lightly on the back of the head, “Ao’nung!” but the relief in  her chiding tone and small smile told him just how grateful she was. When their Ilu came they both dived, heading for the Sully’s Mauri.

Breaking the surface he pushed off his Ilu, hopping onto the ledge, taking in the situation which seemed to include Neteyam trying to keep Lo’ak in the village, and Lo’ak being hard headed about something; typical. “Lo’ak!” At Tsireya’s call he turned, giving them a tight look before diving after his Ilu.

“Lo’ak!” Neteyam yelled after him, mad about something Lo’ak must have said. He turned to them, “come on, he is going to find Payakan.” With that they were back in the water once again chasing after Lo’ak doing something stupid. Along the way they somehow picked up Kiri and Tuk and were now in open water, still trying to catch up, his sister calling out to him, “Lo’ak!”

“Lo’ak!”

“Lo’ak, wait!”

By the time they made it to Payakan, Lo’ak was fussing over something lodged into his back, another tracker. “Bro, come on. The ship is coming,” Neteyam jumped up onto Payakan. Of course the Sky People were already here. . . why would it be easy? Rolling his eyes he held his hand out for Neteyam to help him on, “bro come on!”

They all pulled on the tracker but it did not move in the slightest, the incoming ship moving fast, “call dad.” Neteyam spoke up, “call dad. Just go. Move it!” he pulled Lo’ak up, not giving him a chance to protest. They continued to pull, Lo’ak’s voice coming to him, muted.

Dad, I mean, uh Devil Dog, do you read me? Eagle eye, do you copy?

Dad! We are with a Tulkun that is under attack. Killer ships inbound. 2 clicks out.

It is all of us! Ao’nung and Tsireya too. We are at 3 brothers rocks.

Yes sir.

“It is getting closer!” Tsireya was panicking, and so was everyone else.

The ships were getting closer and they were getting nowhere with this tracker, “3, 2, pull!” They needed to think of something and fast.

“Ao’nung!” He looked up and Neteyam threw a rope to him from his Ilu. Catching it he began tying it around the tracker, “hurry up!”

When it was tight he looked back over to Neteyam, “go, go, go!” They all started pulling again, hard. As hard as they could.

“Pull, harder!”

“Pull!” At Neteyam’s call they all pulled, finally the tracker sprang free sending them all tumbling into the water.

Surfacing he looked around, ignoring everyone talking at once until he found Neteyam, seeing that he was alright. He was pointing off towards the reef, “go that way. I will draw them out.”

He did not want Neteyam using himself as bait. He really  did not want him to do that. He would not say anything now, though. Not with the Sky People almost upon them. He could yell and scream and worry later. Now he must do as Neteyam asked, getting out of the way, keeping Tsireya and the others safe. Heading directly for the thick seaweed they swam in, laying low, waiting to see what was going to happen.

When they sent their machines into the water, they headed deeper into the seas plant life, hoping to shake them from their trail, which was harder than it looked. Their machines were faster than the Ilu and they were forced to scatter.

Finding an air pocket, he signalled Kiri and Rotxo to follow him, waiting out the attack, “I lost Tuk! Did you see her?”

His heart squeezed when she mentioned the youngest Sully, the one he had the strongest bond with aside from Neteyam, “I have not,” when Kiri went to dive again, he grabbed her arm, “ you cannot! They are right on our tails!”

“Well, I cannot leave her alone!” Kiri was yelling now, frantic, “she is just a child!”

He looked to Rotxo, “I know, I know. She is smart though, is she not? She will be fine.” He motioned Rotxo to wrap an arm around her, keeping her above the surface, “I will take a look. . . if the machines are gone we can look for her, ok?”

“Why are you being so nice to me now? Do you not hate us?” he hesitated, he had not really ever spoken to her since he had fought with Neteyam and Lo’ak, not directly at least.

“I never hated you,” she lifted a brow, “well, I hated the situation. I did not understand you. You, all of you, were an unknown and were different than us and that scared me, ok?” he turned away when Rotxo’s head whipped up, “and I am sorry for calling you a freak. I did not think and I hurt you with my words.”

He dived then, not giving her a chance to ask any more questions, he saw nothing around them but plants and fish, swimming back up he ignored the odd scene before him, Kiri with her head on Rotxo’s shoulder, seemingly taking comfort in his awkward hug. They pulled apart as he surfaced, “I do not see anything around us, we can go out, but slowly.” He pinned Kiri with a hard stare, “I know you want to find your sister, but please stick with us. We are a group now, no one strays.”

“Fine, fine.” She rolled her eyes, sighing but nodded in agreement.

“Alright, lets go.” He made sure to keep an eye on the younger two as they made their way through the thick plant life making sure to stop and wait when they noticed a machine getting too close. All too quickly they found themselves trapped by a machine, they tried to swim away, but it kept catching up. He looked around for options but found none, he tried not to panic but it was hard. Kiri though, rather than panicking she took action, bonding with a nearby anemone miraculously using it to capture, crush, and incapacitate the pilots of the machine. How?

He looked at Rotxo who seemed to be just as confused as him, they did not have time to form any theories because the need to get away was stronger. When Kiri turned to him he indicated they were going to surface, “we have got to get to the reef, we can regroup and meet with the other warriors there. They can get Tuk.”

“No, no. No!” Kiri looked absolutely frantic with worry, “we have to go now! What if they are hurting her?” he went to place a hand on her shoulder, to try and calm her down, reason with her, instead though she was ripped from the water before them. Looking up he saw an Avatar and his Ikran, Kiri in its claws, “Shit!”

He began swimming frantically, ignoring Rotxo’s calls, “Ao’nung, wait! What about the other warriors! We cannot do anything for her,” he heard a loud noise before a hot searing sensation exploded in his shin.

Grunting, he tried to stay afloat, “Rotxo! My. . . leg,” looking down he could see a growing cloud of red surrounding his shin, which was not good. He had not seen anything hit him though. What the hell was happening?

“Ao’nung? What has happened?” Rotxo rushed over, calling his Ilu immediately when he saw the blood, “we are going back. Now.”

“No,” it was a weak protest, but he needed to help Kiri. She was in his care, his responsibility.

“No. We are going back. You are bleeding and need to be checked.” He let Rotxo haul him up onto the Ilu before he got on in front of him, rushing them away from the fight. He heard more of the loud banging and cringed, but the pain did not come this time, still only the unbearable burning in his shin. Lifting it out of the water he felt around for a wound. Anything really, maybe a bite from a fish, a rip from a reef, a slice from a knife, but there was just a round hole. Nothing he could think of would make a wound like that.

He felt suddenly dizzy, he had lost too much blood. Ripping a piece of fabric from his loincloth he tied it tightly over the wound before letting his head sag, focusing on keeping conscious. By the time they had made it to shore he just wanted to sleep, but he could not, he had to get. . . Kiri. Neteyam would be so worried about her, “Kiri? Where is Kiri?” he looked around, tracking down Rotxo, “we have to get Kiri. . .” no one was listening to him though, they were all crowding around his leg, poking and prodding and, oh it hurt. His vision dimmed again and he blinked, trying to stay awake, he lost though when someone twisted his leg to look at the other side, his vision went black.

---

He tore his gaze from Ao’nung’s, he saw the worry and turmoil there but he knew he would not say anything. There was no time and someone had to lead them away from the others. He could not have lived with himself if he let anyone else do this job, still it hurt. It hurt to see the pain in Ao’nung’s eyes and he just hoped he would see those eyes again. He hoped that look was not the last he would see in the eyes of his love.

He clicked, urging his Ilu forward as fast as they could go, heading in the opposite direction of the others. He went for a while, dodging around stray plants, everything was going fine until a large explosion nearly threw him off his Ilu, tumbling into the depths of the ocean. He managed to keep hold though, he had lost his breath, but he just had to go a little bit farther, he was not yet far enough away from them. Looking back he could no longer see the others at all, the spot where they had helped Payakan completely out of sight.

Dropping the tracker, he fled deep into the plant life, waiting. The submarines came fast, searching, but they did not find him, instead taking a sharp left as if they were called somewhere, “Shit, the others!” Waiting for the last submarine to finish its rounds, he slowly swam to the surface, making sure to come up behind a chunk of reef. Taking deep steadying breaths he took a minute, to get his breathing back under control before he turned back toward the fray, taking in the chaos that had broken out above the surface. The Sky Peoples main ship was not far off, close enough, though, that he could see and hear faintly what was happening. They had Tsireya, Tuk, and Lo’ak strapped to the railing and his dad was not far off, riding over alone despite the horde of Metkayina warriors floating just beyond Three Brothers Rocks. He wanted to go in, get his family back, but he could not tell what was happening from here. . . he had to wait.

His opening came merely a few minutes later when Payakan launched himself from the water to land on the ship, wreaking havoc among the Sky People. He took his chance at the same time the Metkayina warriors began their approach.

Diving deep he stayed low to the oceans floor, taking the long way around all of the chaos, changing his course slightly when the main ship was thrown over a large group of rocks, avoiding all the fighting and trying not to notice the number of lifeless bodies floating beneath the surface, both Sky People and Na’vi alike. Shaking his head he refocused, urging his Ilu to move faster when he saw the main ship, orienting himself to the side he last saw the trio. Once underneath he went straight up, launching himself up and onto the ship, immediately beelining for Tsireya, Tuk, and Lo’ak when he saw them.

“Neteyam!” Tuk’s relieved call was music to his ears. Thankfully she seemed completely unharmed. If maybe a little scared and annoyed, pulling at her restraints.

Running over he took in the scene around him quickly, Tsireya was strapped to the rail by her bicep, her wrists tied tight with a piece of cloth. Tuk was beside her strapped down by her wrists, same as Lo’ak. “Hey baby brother,” he sliced the ties holding Tsireya, “need some help?” he could not help but laugh, teasing Lo’ak a bit, distracting himself from the growing rage in his chest. He cut Tuk free before turning to Tsireya again, “it is ok. Get Tuk out of here.”

“Bro, hurry up!” He turned back to Lo’ak, smiling again, hoping his fear did not show to the younger boy. He needed him calm and thinking clearly if they had any chance of getting out of here in one piece.

“Who is the mighty warrior? Come on, say it.” He laughed, cutting the tie holding Lo’ak hostage.

Grabbing the back of Lo’ak’s head he rubbed his hair roughly, getting up, motioning for Lo’ak to follow him, “bro!”

“Come on, lets go.” He turned to leave, surprised when Lo’ak turned toward the ship, not away, “Lo’ak!”

“They have got Spider. We have got to get him out. Come on.” Lo’ak got up, ready to go in ‘guns blazing’ as his father would say, but he could not help but hesitate. Yes, Spider was his brother, but he needed to get Lo’ak out of here first. The adults could get Spider. “Come on, bro. We cannot leave him.”

He knew Lo’ak would not leave without Spider, so he gave in. Better two skxawng’s in there than only one. Hissing in frustration he forced his body to follow after Lo’ak. Into the danger. Lo’ak jumped up into the rafters, crawling along above the Sky People who had apparently chosen to abandon ship and he followed, searching the running faces for Spider.      [morons/idiots]

When they found him he signalled Lo’ak to wait while he took out the guards, he did not, of course, but Neteyam said nothing, instead focusing on incapacitating those closest to him, a gun went off and he whipped his head to see Lo’ak reeling from the kickback. “Lets go!” Relief flooded through him at the sight of his brother with no bullet holes, but his heart did not slow in the slightest. They were still in the middle of an enemy ship and were largely untrained.

“Thanks guys,” he did not look at Spider, guilt gnawing at him that he was against going back for him, Lo’ak said nothing to out him. Focusing on getting them out he grabbed the gun from Lo’ak, more so because his brother wielding the weapon was giving him an uneasy feeling, ushering him away from the gunfight before shooting back at the Avatars pursuing them.

“Go! Go! Go!” He continued throwing cover fire while the two jumped into the water, only stopping when he heard them hit the surface. Diving after them he felt a hot, tight pressure in his chest that turned into searing pain as soon as he crashed into the water. Shit, feeling his chest he found a small hole, shit, a bullet. . . swimming out from under the ship he pushed himself to the surface all the while fighting the worst pain he had ever felt. Lo’ak and Spider were celebrating when he finally broke the surface, coughing, trying to get the water out of his lungs, “c’mon bro!”

He fought for breath, the pressure in his lungs almost more painful than the intense burn in chest, “you skxawng! I am shot,” the celebration stopped immediately and he tried to keep himself above the surface of the water, refusing to drown while his words sunk through Lo’ak’s thick skull.      [moron]

“Shit!” well that really explained the whole situation, did it not? “Tsireya!” He felt them grab his arms, trying to keep him above the waters surface as his strength to swim dissipated completely, “keep him up!”

“I got him. Get him on.” He knew Spider was right beside him, he could feel his grip on his arm but he sounded like he was miles away.

He grabbed onto the Ilu, letting the others do the rest of the work, leaning his head on Lo’ak’s shoulder. He tried to focus on the feel of Lo’ak’s skin, focus on his unique scent, focus on anything but the burn in his chest and the pressure preventing him from taking anything more than a wheezing gasp.

“They have Kiri and Tuk,” he heard Tsireya’s concern and he wanted so much to sit up, shake this off and go back for his baby sisters, but he could not seem to lift his head.

“We cannot go back.” He tried to talk, tried to reason with Lo’ak, anything to get him to go back for their sisters, they could not leave without them! Nothing came out though aside from a wheeze of breath.

No. We have to. We cannot leave them behind.

Sully’s stick together!

“Dad!” he felt Lo’ak move, flagging down their father, he still could not look up, “Dad! Help! It is Neteyam!”

“Hurry!” Tsireya’s voice. He felt a distant cold envelope his body, it must be the water.

“Here, take him,” Lo’ak.

“No,” his dads voice. He tried to look up again, tell his dad it would be alright. He would be fine, he should go to Kiri and Tuk instead, they were more important than him.

“It is Neteyam! He is hurt!” his brother.

“Get him up, come on.” His dad.

“Please.” Lo’ak.

He coughed, not from water this time, but because he was not getting any air at all, the pressure in his chest suddenly too much for him. He went back to wheezing, but it was even harder to force air into his lungs than before, it took all his focus just to get air in, out, in, out. In, out.

“Bro, watch his head,” Lo’ak again. . .  he vaguely felt hands pushing on him. On his legs, on his arms, on his chest.

“Come on.”

“Watch his head,” there was his dad again. He wanted so bad to turn his head and see his dad. He felt like a kid again, like that time he cut his leg and his dad had carried him home, telling him it would be alright,  and he was right there with him. He wanted to go back there, that pain had been so much more bearable and he was so sure that the heat of his dads skin could warm even the cold he was feeling now. He felt like he had just jumped into the water; those first few seconds of paralyzing cold before your body adjusted to the temperature. His body was not adjusting now, though, all he felt was an endless cold abyss. . . and he was getting colder and colder and colder. He had to clench his teeth hard to keep them from chattering, grinding his molars together.

“You are ok, bro. We got you.” Lo’ak again. The sound of his voice broke him out of his lull, the pain coming full force and everything sounded close again. Too close. Too much. He was feeling too much, hearing too much. He wanted the lull back, he wanted the false sense of calm it brought over him, if he could just stay there he might be able to survive this pain.

“No, no,” his dad looked scared, and that scared him. He had never ever seen his dad get scared. “Pressure. Put pressure on it.” He felt warm hands push into his chest, Lo’ak, those were Lo’ak’s hands,  and his breathing got a little better.

Then it did not, it got worse. So much worse, “Dad I-“ he tried to focus on his dads eyes but there were 4 of them now and he was not sure which ones he was supposed to focus on.

Suddenly his mom was there and he could not hold back his tears anymore, “no, no, no, no,” her hand fell on his stomach and the contact seared him. His tears fell harder and he blinked hard so he could see them a little longer. Just a little bit longer, Great Mother, just a little. . .

He looked back at his dad, the little kid in him rising back to the surface, he just wanted to be a family again, to go home and feel free again, “I want to go home,” he let the tears fall, he no longer had the strength to fight them.

“I know, I know, and we are going.” His dad cupped his cheek and he felt the tension leave his body a little bit, his cheek warmed at the touch of his dad, “we are going home. It is ok, it is ok”. They were going to go home. . . everything will be alright.

Then he thought of ocean blue eyes and he looked around again, looking for those eyes, looking for. . . him. He needed him, he needed Ao’nung. He was not there though, “dad, I-“ everything faded then, slowly going black and he watched as utter horror overtook his dads face.

Then it all went black.

Chapter Text

Falling backward into the water she kept her eyes on Tuk and Kiri while the Avatar holding them hauled them around, strapping them down again. Feeling completely useless and hopeless she spotted a stray Ilu, calling it over she set off in search for someone. . . anyone really that could help her. On the other side of the ship she saw two small forms land in the water, one Na’vi, one human. The Na’vi had to be Lo’ak or Neteyam, too dark to be Metkayina and too small to be Jake or Neytiri, or one of the Avatars. The human beside them looked to be painted with Na’vi markings. . . could this be the ‘Spider’ Lo’ak mentioned? She rushed over, surfacing where the two boys were celebrating their escape. It was Lo’ak! Then Neteyam surfaced, seemingly in great pain and having much trouble staying afloat. “C’mon bro!”

“You skxawng! I am shot,” everything went silent and she tried to decipher what being ‘shot’ meant. It obviously was not good by the way Neteyam groaned in pain, fighting to stay above the waters surface.      [moron]

Shock and terror exploded over Lo’ak’s previously smiling face, “shit!” So, that explained that, getting ‘shot’ was decidedly not a good thing. She dropped into the water, breaking the bond with the Ilu, “Tsireya!” She swam over, taking hold of Neteyam’s back, doing her best to get him up onto the Ilu. “Keep him up!”

“I got him. Get him on,” the mysterious boy spoke in perfect Na’vi, he was definitely known to the family by the way they were both at ease around him so she decided now was not the time to dwell on his odd presence.

Giving Neteyam’s back one final push they finally got him onto the Ilu’s back so she swam around, wrapping one arm around Neteyam’s hips, keeping him stable, the other around Lo’ak to anchor herself onto the Ilu, leaving the rest of her body to drag in the water. Neteyam’s breathing was much too quick and too shallow, but they needed to know where their sisters were. It was imperative that someone knew of their whereabouts, “they have Kiri and Tuk.”

Lo’ak’s jaw tightened and he looked to the ship quickly, “we cannot go back,” she nodded, understanding the predicament they were now in. Neteyam was gravely injured, he was bleeding much too fast from his odd, circular wound, he was going to bleed to death if they did not get him care. And soon. The ride to the shore was both the longest ride she had ever felt and the shortest at the same time. She kept a sharp eye on Neteyam, each time he took a breath blood oozed from his chest and he was breathing so fast that the ooze was basically a constant flow at this point. She was worried he would not last much longer at this rate. “Dad!” Lo’ak flagged down his father from across the shore, “Dad! Help! It is Neteyam!”

She knew the urgency of the situation, urging everyone to move when they all hesitated, unsure of what to do, “Hurry!” she watched their father pick up his pace at the sight of their group.

“Here, take him,” Lo’ak tried to get his father moving.

“No,” that one broken syllable pulled at her heart. Now was not the time to cry. She would not cry now.

“It is Neteyam! He is hurt!” she hauled Neteyam of the Ilu, handing his upper body to his father.

That seemed to knock him out of his mind, his hands moving fast, “get him up, come on.”

“Please,” Lo’ak’s voice cracked, the pain evident, “bro, watch his head.” They all pushed at Neteyam’s limp body, finally getting him out of the water. Scrambling up the side of the reef she helped them get him onto the flat surface, everything around her muffling as she sat at his feet, watching the life drain from him. Watching the life drain from her brothers promised, his heart, and her new friend.

She watched him realize he was dying, first fighting the tears, then letting them fall freely. She knew the moment he started to panic, looking for a specific person that was not here, watched his eyes frantically move in his search before he took one final wheeze then he went completely still.

No. . .

No! No!

He cannot be gone. . . he cannot!

Her tears fell then, spilling out of her eyes, no stop in sight as her heart broke for them all. For the mother and father as they realized their son was not breathing. For the brother that looked haunted by the sight of his brothers blood on his palms. For her brother who did not yet know what had happened. . .

She held onto his shins, trying to rouse him.

Come on, wake up. You have to. You have to wake up. . . He did not.

“Where are your sisters? Your sisters! Where are they?”

“I-I do not know. . .”

She was vaguely aware of Jake demanding to know where Kiri and Tuk were and Lo’ak not having the words to tell him they were there. They were still on the ship, when he asked again she spoke up in a small voice, “. . . on the ship. They are on the ship.”

She looked back at Neteyam, unable to believe how she could have missed something like this in their future. . . how could she miss this? She was vaguely aware of Neytiri going scarily quiet before she mounted her Ikran, flying away toward the ship. Lo’ak stood up, “stay with your brother.”

“Dad. . . I want to go with you.”

“You have done enough.”

“Dad-“ his voice broke, but still, she could not tear her gaze away from Neteyam. This could not be it. . . why had she felt great happiness for them if it were destined to end like this. . . ? She felt Lo’ak’s hand on her bicep and finally she felt the strength to look up at him, vision still blurry from her tears, “stay with him. . .” he caressed her cheek lightly before running to dive into the inky black waters.

“No!” but he was already gone, his Ilu taking him far out, back to the ship. Her heart ripped in half. . .  how could she leave him to fight for his family alone? At the same time, how could she even think to leave Neteyam all alone on the shore? The answer was easy, she just did not like it. She could not Leave Neteyam alone, so she would stay with him. She just prayed that their Great Mother would allow her to see her beloved alive again.

She looked back to Neteyam, moving stiffly up to his head, laying it in her lap, trying to make him comfortable, brushing his braids away from his face. For some reason she felt like he was uncomfortable. . .

She let go, then, letting all her fears out over Neteyam’s unmoving form. She screamed and sobbed and hit the reef with her fists, she kept care, though, not to move her lower body even an inch, taking care not to disturb Neteyam.

“Tsireya? Tsmuke, what is wrong?” her heart dropped straight to her toes.      [sister]

No. . .

---

“Ao’nung,” her broken voice had him limping fast, trying to get to her, “I-I. . .”

She was looking between him and the person cradled in her lap. . . a person with dark blue skin, “sister. . . what?” it was then he saw Neteyam’s face, completely lax.

His entire body flushed ice cold, falling heavily onto his knees beside her, the pain in his shin be damned, there were tears streaming freely from her eyes, “I-they, uh. . . they say he has been ‘shot’. . . he-he is not breathing, tsmukan,” her voice was barely audible, throaty from crying herself raw, evidently.      [brother]

His heart tore in two, the pain in his shin forgotten, nothing in comparison to the pain radiating in his chest, “shot?” his voice broke, “what do you mean ‘shot’? What does ‘shot’ mean?” he did not understand why Neteyam’s chest was not moving. He saw no outwardly wounds aside from small scratches and bruises and some blood pooling around Tsireya’s fingers.

“I do not know, but. . .” she lifted her hand from where it had been pressing into his chest. There was an odd looking circle in his chest, blood seeping out, “he is bleeding. . . terribly. I-I do not know what to do. . .” she put her hands back, keeping pressure to stem the bleeding, now that he knew why they sat there.

He looked at the unhealthy white sheen over Neteyam’s features. He moved Neteyam’s head into his own lap instead of his sisters. He could swear he saw him wince. The cold skin under his fingers told him another story, but he held onto the image of that wince and started praying saying anything, saying everything to get their Great Mothers attention.

I cannot bear to live without him. Please do not take him from me.

He was screaming now, yelling nothing in particular, yelling to anyone who could hear. Just. . . yelling.

I have only just found him. I will do anything to have him back.

He is my person.

He was numbly aware of his parents presence behind them. He felt his fathers hands on his shoulders, his mothers on his face. Her hands moving to Neteyam, he was too weak to bat them away.

Please. . .

He laid his head on Neteyam’s cheek, whispering his last prayers into his ear, a prayer only for Neteyam’s ears, “I love you, so please, stay.”

He was not sure if he was imagining it. . . but then he felt it again, the slightest whisper of a breath on his ear. He jerked up stiffly, looking around him, searching for the one stupid enough to get this close to him while he grieved, but there was no one aside from his family surrounding him. His sister at his side crying silently, his father at his back holding onto his shoulders, and his mother checking over Neteyam, passing her hands over his chest. . . that meant. . . hope flared in his chest where the growing abyss of emptiness had formed, a small light in the darkness. Dropping his head down to Neteyam’s mouth again, he waited to feel it again, waited, waited. . . waited, and there it was again. A faint brush of exhaled air tickled his cheek, “sa’nok. . .”

“Yes?”

“Can you check his heartbeat?” she hesitated, “please.”

Chapter Text

At his desperation, her hand moved to Neteyam’s neck, “kea. . . it cannot be. . .” she breathed. “Tonowari! Get this boy to my hut this instant! His heart is beating!” He had never seen his father move so fast, scooping Neteyam’s slight frame into his arms, running for his mothers healing hut. His mother followed closely after him. He found though that his legs were not capable of functioning and he stayed where he was.

“Tsmu. . .” she did not say anything more, seemingly at a loss for words.      [brother]

He looked at her, at a loss for words himself. Unable to form even a coherent thought so instead he looked up, watching as the sun peaked out from beyond the large planet they orbited, Polyphemus, eclipse was over. His ears perked and flicked at the calls of the Sully family. Turning his face back to the ocean he saw five figures perched on Payakan’s back as he brought them to shore. They were beaten and bleeding, but each of the Sully’s were whole and largely unhurt. Lo’ak looked around frantically, running and skidding to a halt in front of Tsireya, “where is Neteyam?” she did not answer, just looked at Neteyam with a bewildered expression, as if she thought she would never lay eyes on the boy again. She launched herself at him, burying her face into his shoulder, crying all over again, “Tsireya? What is wrong?” he was vaguely aware of Tsireya shaking her head vigorously before tightening her arms again. Lo’ak got the message, evidently, and he hugged her back resting his head on the top of her head.

Jake looked at him, “Neteyam? Where is Neteyam?” he opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Clearing his throat he pointed to his mothers healing hut.

“He started breathing again. . . his heart was. . . beating,” his voice cracked and was not what anyone would call audible, but they seemed to get the message. Kiri and Neytiri started running for the hut, Jake just stood there looking stricken. He stumbled back landing unceremoniously on his ass looking up at the sky.

“Tsawl tsmu. . .” Tuk fell to her knees in front of him, hugging his neck tightly before pulling back, worried, “are you ok? You are very white?”      [big bro; roughly]

It was not until she said that that he noticed he was not dizzy in relief, but that he was dizzy from blood loss, a fast growing pool of blood had formed underneath him, “I think I might have been shot as well. . .” His vision dimmed as he realized just how weak he felt, “I-“ he was cut off by Jakes hands forcing him to lay down, checking his vitals.

“Shit! His heart is beating too fast. He is burning up!” He felt a stab of pain in his leg and he let out a cry of pain, fighting off the pull of sleep, “oh shit, it hit the bone.” He was floating now. . . no, he was moving quickly to his mothers healing hut, he was being carried. “Ronal! Tonowari! Ao’nung was shot as well! It looks like it clipped his tibia. I need to call Norm. He will need surgery.”

He heard his mother give her approval, telling his father to watch over him, she needed to focus, now. Turning his head to track her voice, he lolled his head to the side, instead finding Neteyam’s face, his eyes still closed, but his face was scrunched in pain.

He was alive!

---

Today was the day of the funeral.

He had woken up over an hour ago, well not really woken up so much as shaken out of his sleepless daze by his parents’ quiet voices, he knew he needed to get dresses but he just could not bring himself to sit up.

His mothers voice drifted over to him, “he still has not spoken much. . . I am afraid he will shut down completely.” She sounded worried and guilt stabbed at him for being the source of that worry.

His father, ever the optimistic problem solver, comforted her, “he is mourning, ma tìyawn. He will be fine. . .”      [my love]

“I hope you are right.”

He felt his mother’s presence over him but he did not open his eyes making sure to show no change in his breathing. Her hand fluttered around his face, smoothing out the frown and furrow of his brows, getting his hair somewhat in order – not an easy feat since he had not been taking care of it this past week – passing a thumb over the bags under his eyes, “ma’evan kalin”      [my beautiful boy; roughly]

She walked away then and he felt the innate need to pull her back and give her a hug, taking comfort in her presence and her scent like he used to. Instead, though, he stayed still. There was only one person he would accept an embrace from in this moment, and he was not here. He listened as she woke Tsireya, instructing her to wake him and make sure he wore his clothes of mourning. He was to be presentable at the funeral.

His heart squeezed at the mention of the funeral ceremony later this morning. He needed to be there, but he could not truly participate, not with his leg still healing.

He could hear Tsireya rummaging through his clothing, getting the white ceremonial outfit ready, “tsmukan. . . I know you are awake.” The beads clinked together, “your eyes are tracking me under their lids.” He did not say anything, just opened his eyes to look at her, “I know you are hurting, but we must honour those who sacrificed themselves. It is our duty and it is what they deserve.” Still, he said nothing and her lips trembled, “oe hupx nga, tsawl tsmukan.” He leaned up to caress her cheek, he did not want to hurt her, but he could not bring himself to speak.      [I miss you, big brother]

She handed him the clothes and he took them nodding to her, she still looked like she was about to cry, pushing her lips together. He felt the need to punch himself in the head. He always said he would teach anyone who made his sister cry a severe lesson and here he was committing that exact act. He really was a terrible brother. He put a hand on her neck, squeezing, trying to relay everything he was feeling without having to speak a word. He was not ready yet. . . not yet. She mirrored the gesture, a small smile on her lips, though she was crying now he cocked his head at her and she laughed it off, wiping her eyes, “oh, you know me. I am always crying about something. I am fine.”

She was lying.

He let her walk away anyway. Putting on the ceremonial outfit he grew irritated quickly at the rough texture on his skin and how hard it was to get it over the bulky cast covering his leg. He swore and clenched his teeth and finally got the garment over the cast, fuming all over again. It was not fair. It is not fair!

Grabbing the ‘crutch’ one of Jakes Avatar friends made for him he limped out of their Mauri, slamming the end into the ground, letting his frustrations run wild for a moment. He stopped in his tracks though when he saw Tuk not far away holding onto her mothers’ hand. Her eyes lit up when she saw him, “Ao’nung!” She ran over to him, holding her arms open wide and for a moment, just a small, tiny moment, his heart warmed. He opened his arms, holding onto the girls small form for dear life, fighting the oncoming waterfall of tears behind his eyes.

Neytiri walked over to them, a sad smile on her face, “Ao’nung,” he nodded to her in greeting, “Tuk, he cannot carry you now, he is still injured.” Tuk’s arms tightened around him.

Tapping her back he released her, holding out his hand instead. Looking up to Neytiri he questioned with his eyes, ‘is this alright?’ When she nodded he pushed himself up, waiting for Tuk to grab his hand. Then they were off and the warring grief in his mind was a little quieter at the feel of her small hand within his own.

That reprieve did not last long though, Tuk and Neytiri had to join the funeral and he had to stay behind. The instant their hands disconnected the dull roar grew until it deafened him once again. Still, he stayed, honouring each and every one of the dead. Many warriors had lost their lives in the fight, merely a week ago, but there was only one on his mind now.

One with fierce yellow eyes, a too small tail, and impossibly slight frame. One who had stolen his heart, took it with him, and ripped it to pieces. He slipped away, just walking, no destination in sight, he walked for a long time, countless Mauri’s passed by moulding into one. . . until he found himself outside one particular recovery pod, afraid to go in. . . it had been a week since he had been in this particular pod. . .

~~~ one week ago ~~~

He awoke to a rhythmic beeping assaulting his ears.

Looking around he panicked, the equipment was something not of Pandora and therefore had to be of the Sky People. . . had he been captured? He could not remember much before he woke up, just that there had been a battle and his shin hurt and he felt. . . empty, a dull ache had set up camp in his chest.

Sitting up he was able to take a better look at his surroundings, which he recognized as one of his peoples recovery pods. So, he had not been captured, removing the thin fabric covering his legs he inspected the white, puffy looking wrap enclosed around his shin, it was. . . oddly familiar, but foreign at the same time. Placing a hand on it he froze as a hot lick of pain radiated from his shin all the way up to his scalp causing him do fall forward, grunting from the effort of forcing the bile back down, fighting hard to not empty the contents of his stomach all over the floor.

The machines around him started to beep loudly, in quick succession. Swatting at them he pinned his ears back at the auditory assault. He just wanted silence. “Hey, he’s awake!” The voice was one he did not recognize, he hissed a warning at the unknown Na’vi who appeared in the doorway. The oddly dressed man wisely stayed in the doorway, waiting for someone, greeting them before backing away. His mother shot through the door followed by his father and finally Tsireya all wearing a mix of relieved, joyful smiles.

“Ao’nung, my sweet boy,” his mother fell to her knees by his side, whispering a prayer in thanks, “I thought I had lost you. . .” she cupped his cheeks, pushing their foreheads together briefly.

“Sa’nok. . .” his voice was rough but it was working, “what is all this noise?”      [mother]

She tsked, “Sky People equipment. Jake Sully’s friends had to save you. . .” she looked ashamed.

“I am certain your care would have been best, sa’nok.” She smiled at that, pulling away to let his father through. His brows were furrowed as he checked Ao’nung over, thoroughly. He too dropped to his knees, surprising Ao’nung, pulling him in for a tight hug, saying nothing. His eyes said enough though.

Tsireya approached him when they pulled away, tears pooling in her eyes, “you scared me, tsmukan!”

“I am sorry,” he opened his arms for her, needing her comfort desperately for some reason.

She hugged him tight and the emptiness inside him eased slightly, “never do that again!”

“I will try. . .” he looked around again, someone was missing but his mind was still muddled. Yellow eyes came to mind, though, but his people had blue eyes. . . and yet, yellow eyes and dark skin came to mind. . . Neteyam. He looked around again, searching for Neteyam, “Tsireya. . . where is Neteyam?”

Her eyes were stricken and his heart picked up, no. . . it cannot be. What had he forgotten? “Do you not remember?”

“Uh, no?” he saw her eyes widen, something was definitely wrong, “why? What has happened?” Instead of answering she looked back at their parents and they gave her sympathetic looks before leaving the pod, ushering the unknown man to leave with them. “Tsireya-”

She looked at him again, “how much do you remember?”

He rolled his eyes, “I remember there was a fight and I remember Lo’ak’s skxawng ass went out to warn Payakan. . . and that is about it. I vaguely remember needing to go back for Kiri?”

Tsireya winced, “so, nothing after that, then?”

“No,” he arranged his legs so he was sitting more comfortably, ignoring the stabbing pains of protest in his leg, “just tell me. Holding back is obviously not helping anything.”

She took a deep breath before looking him in the eye, determined, “you guys, Kiri Rotxo and you, were going to the Sky People’s ship to try and free Tuk when Kiri was taken by one of their Avatar’s.” Now that she mentioned it, he did recall that, “when you went to get Kiri, you were shot-“

His stopped her at the foreign word, “shot?”

“It is hard to explain, but it is not good. Like a throwing spear only a lot smaller, faster, and made of something hard like stone. . .” she sounded more like she was asking him, but continued anyway, “which is why your leg is bandaged. They had to remove the shot thingy.” She pointed to his leg, “Rotxo brought you to shore because you were going to bleed out. You passed out not long after you got to shore.”

He sighed at her ramblings, “Tsireya. . . what is the point of telling me all of this? This is unimportant and has nothing to do with why you will not tell me where Neteyam is.”

“He is next door. . .” her voice does off after that, waiting for his reaction to the news.

That could only mean he had been hurt as well. No, no, no. No! He scrambled to get up, somehow managing to get to his feet, but now he had to figure out how to walk. He found he could not put any weight on his injured leg. Panicked, he looked around for anything to help him walk when he felt Tsireya pull his arm around her shoulder. Saying nothing they made their way out of the pod and his heart tried to beat out of his chest.

On one hand he needed to see Neteyam, he could not fully believe that he was hurt without seeing for himself, on the other hand he was so scared to see Neteyam hurt. He had not bothered to ask how hurt Neteyam was. . . by the sadness and strain in Tsireya’s voice he could deduce that it was not good news.

Pulling the door cover back he poked his head out of the pod, looking over to the next, his heart dropping again when he saw the grim faces of Neteyam’s family, all of them sitting outside the recovery pod. Jake was holding Neytiri whose face he could not see, Jake looked like he had not slept. Lo’ak had his arm around Kiri, both looked haunted. Tuk had curled into a ball and was crying softly just beside the opening of the pod, “Tuk. . .” he stopped before her, his heart breaking all the more for the girl who was too young to be hurting like this.

Her teary eyes found his as she uncurled, “he will not open his eyes. . . he always wakes up when I ask. Why is he not waking up, Ao’nung?”

He pulled her up into a hug, not sure he would be able to get up again if he leaned down, “I do not know. Would you like to come in with me?” he rubbed the back of her head soothingly, “I am certain he would feel so much better if we sat with him?”

She nodded, sniffing. “Ok.”

Grabbing her hand he let her lead him into the pod, unsure if he would have made it in otherwise. Especially the way his heart stopped when his eyes landed on Neteyam’s ‘sleeping’ form. Tsireya left when the settled and they stayed there for hours, Tuk holding Neteyam’s hand and telling him stories, Ao’nung holding Tuk, unable to bring himself to touch Neteyam’s hand.

His mind was reeling, memories assaulting him as they returned, full force:

“Ao’nung. . . they say he has been ‘shot’. . .”

“. . . he-he is not breathing, tsmukan. . .”

“. . . he is bleeding. . .”

“I love you, so please, stay.”

“Can you check his heartbeat?”

Neteyam may be alive, but this was almost worse. He was laying right there, he was there, he was breathing, his colour had returned, but the pit in Ao’nung’s chest was still there. He needed Neteyam with him, not this silent, sleeping shell of his love. This is not what he meant.

He was dead without having died.

“He is in what we call a coma.” Jake was standing in the doorway looking uncomfortable and out of place, “he has been like this since he was shot.”

“Oh,” it was all he could muster in response.

Jake did not seem to notice, though, or at least he did not acknowledge his lack of response, “if-if he does not wake up by weeks end, we will test for brain death.”

His mouth was pulled into a thin line and he looked beyond his years, “brain death?”

“He can be alive without being ‘alive.’ We can keep him alive, but if his brain dies he will never wake up again, essentially he is dead.”

“Oh.” His eyes slid back to Neteyam. . . was this really it. Was this what his last memories of Neteyam would be?

Jake continued, he did not seem to know what to say so he just said anything that came to mind, filling the silence. “He went a long time without breathing, it is. . . . it is normal.”

“Nothing about this is normal.”

“Yeah.” They left it at that. When Tuk fell asleep Neytiri came in to take her to bed and he sat numbly by Neteyam’s side, still not touching him, staring a hole though the bandages on his chest. Maybe if he stared hard enough they would disappear and Neteyam would wake up like nothing has happened?

That did not happen though, instead Tsireya came in, silently pleading with him to go to bed. He did. He let her help him up and into his pod next door.

He did not sleep that night. He did not sleep the next night either. He did not sleep at all, not even when he was healed enough to go home. Every time he closed his eyes he saw yellow eyes staring back at him.

~~~ present ~~~

He had not spoken much since then, he found he had nothing to say. Now though, he was back outside the pod where he had re-lived everything. He was tired now. He leaned his head on the doors frame. . . he was in the same position as he had been the last time he was here; wanting so badly to go in and yet his feet felt like they were stuck.

Sighing he pulled the curtain back, hobbling into the darkness. As scared as he was to see Neteyam essentially lifeless, he would not leave him alone. He was being selfish before, he would not be anymore. Limping forward he lit the lantern, illuminating the small area with a dull light, listening to the steady rhythmic beeping – as Lo’ak had explained it – coming from the myriad of machines Neteyam had been hooked up to. Pushing his crutches aside he kept his eyes on the prone form in front of him, limping over to sit beside the blanket. He took in Neteyam, the peaks of his toes under the blanket, the outline of his body, his dark shoulders that peaked out over the top, his chest rising and falling rhythmically with his deep breaths. He slipped his hand under the edge of the cover, finding Neteyam’s hand. It was warm. . . the tears that had been threatening him fell now and he lifted Neteyam’s hand to his mouth to stifle his cries.

He looked up to Neteyam’s face, finally mustering up the courage, the serene expression somehow more empty than relaxed. He cried harder, hiccupping.

He had been so sure Neteyam was dead in his arms on that reef. His heart had splintered and it still had not healed, in fact, it cracked even now with every breath Neteyam took without opening his eyes. He was sure it would not heal until he saw those yellow eyes again. . .

They did not open though, not matter how hard he stared, they stayed closed.

Chapter Text

She felt him leave the dock, felt the stifling grief that hung heavy in the air retreating with him. He carried so much turmoil with him now and it broke her heart. As much as she was weary of Ao’nung, he truly loved her older brother and she trusted that love, more so than his apology she believed he was coming to understand them. As she was him. If only just a little bit.

Ao’nung was severely untrusting and cautious of everyone and everything which was unknown to him, but when it was earned, he loved unconditionally. A love Neteyam had apparently unlocked in the months they had been living among the Metkayina in Awa’atlu, learning from the siblings and Rotxo.

 Even through his hostility when they first landed on the main beach she had an inkling he had been intrigued by Neteyam, a slight, curious tilt to his head whilst he glared at them. . . it was so obvious now, but even then her unassuming, over-protective brother had started chipping away at Ao’nung’s closely guarded heart.

Now, though, he was so close to leaving them. She could feel it. He was so close to their Great Mother they were nearly one. She was not sure if any of them would survive his passing, even if they knew he was in the loving hands of Eywa.

When her mother hissed at her in warning she brought her attention back to the ceremonies, mind still chewing on her theories about their relationship. She knew what she needed to do, but she was not sure how she would do it without overstepping. . .

Kiri slipped away as soon as the ceremonies had finished, heading straight to the recovery pod Ao’nung had no doubt found himself drawn to. He had not been back in the week since he had woken up and she so desperately needed to test her theory. Their time was almost up. It could be the difference between them losing Neteyam and getting him back.

She used her hunting skills to move through the village silently, approaching the pod without a noise so as to not alert the occupants to her presence, what she heard behind the cover fused her feet in place. There was someone whimpering softly, muffled crying. . . the small noises shocked her, she knew she could only feel the surface of Ao’nung’s pain, but the broken whimpers showed a depth of pain she did not think was possible for him.

She knew she would not be welcomed in what she assumed was a very private moment, but she had to see them together. . . something she had noticed that first night still niggled at the back of her mind.

She had sensed Neteyam trying to wake up the moment Ao’nung had entered the pod, like he was fighting to wake up, unlike when Ao’nung had left, and Neteyam had seemed totally at peace with the idea of becoming one with Eywa, retreating back into himself.

It was like he retreated into himself completely when he did not sense Ao’nung’s presence, she needed to see him now, though. With Ao’nung by his side. If he fought, maybe she could help him.

Stepping heavier than necessary she made sure to make herself known as she moved the cover out of the way, entering the pod.

Neteyam was right there with them. . . his spirit so bright that she could almost think he would open his eyes at any moment.

---

He heard shuffling, then a presence in the doorway, sniffling he turned to the newcomer, keeping his eyes low to try and hide the evidence of his rampant emotions. Before him he saw slim feet sporting 5 toes and he knew exactly who was standing before him, “Kiri.”

He had not quite figured out how he meshed with Kiri. . . with Neteyam, Tuk, and Lo’ak, it was easy. He loved Neteyam and Tuk, very differently, but loved them all the same. He tolerated Lo’ak for his sisters sake, he would not admit it out loud but he was growing on Ao’nung, slowly. Very slowly.

Kiri though, he was not sure at all. . . he liked to think they were in the beginnings of an acquaintanceship, on the way to being friends, but he could not really tell. Sometimes she smiled at him and he felt like they were getting somewhere and other times she would just look at him with this faraway look. Seeing through him more than seeing him. Maybe she was just angry he had not visited Neteyam in a week. . .

He turned away again, finding himself relaxing a little in her calming presence despite his conflicting thoughts. She did not say anything though, just stood there in the doorway, staring. He got a little annoyed at the silent attention, “do not just stand there staring. Come in. . . please,” he bit back his unwarranted anger, there was no need to lash out at her. She was here visiting her older brother. . . sometimes he forgot how close they really were, she was probably hurting just as badly as him. Just better at hiding it, evidently. She sat down on the other side of Neteyam, still silently observing them both, “I am sorry. You did not deserve that.”

She just nodded, looking back at Neteyam again, “I can feel him, you know.” He looked at her, a little confused on what she meant, “I can feel his spirit. He is on the precipice of his journey through the eye of Eywa.” Her eyes bore into his suddenly, an old wisdom in them he never noticed before, “he must decide if he is ready to join our Great Mother, or if he will come back to us, here.” His heart picked up at the eery note to her voice, “I can help him; bring him back. . . maybe.”

He did not say anything, but he sucked in a breath when she reached out a hand to place her fingers on Neteyam’s chest, her Tanhì glowing brightly in the dusk. They seemed to pulse with power, the light somehow going through her and into Neteyam until he glowed just as brightly.

It seemed like hours passed, the siblings glow shining and waning in sync but it was probably more like a few minutes before Kiri’s eyes opened again and they stopped glowing. She just stared at Neteyam, pulling her hand back, “come on big brother. Come back to us.”

They sat there a long time, just the sound of their breathing between them, he was about to speak when his eyes caught a small movement. . . the tiniest twitch of Neteyam’s nose and his breath caught.

Then his eyelids fluttered open, his eyes locking onto Ao’nung’s, studying him.

How he had missed those eyes.

“Neteyam. . .”

Neteyam just looked confused though, “I-“ he tried his voice, “Where am I? Who-who are you?” his voice was defensive, “why do I know your eyes.”

Ao’nung cringed internally. . . this was not going to be easy for any of them. “Go and get our mothers,” he turned to Kiri, touching her shoulder lightly to get her attention off of Neteyam.

“Are you sure,” she looked skeptical.

“Yes,” she cocked her head at him, her silent questions screaming at him, “I-we will be fine.”

He watched Kiri leave, the warring of his emotions gaining a new tidbit to chew on; what if Neteyam did not remember him? Despite this though, he was unendingly happy that he had woken up. “Ao-Ao’nung?” Neteyam said his name like if was completely foreign to him and somehow it both hurt and warmed his heart that he remembered, “that is you, no?”

“Yes.” He forced his hands to stay limp at his sides, folding his hands into fists at the effort.

“I know you?” Neteyam’s eyes caught the movement.

His ears flicked, “yes.”

Neteyam seemed to chew on that piece of information, his eyes finally ending their scrutinization for a moment as he looked around the darkened room. Ao’nung stayed as still as possible, not wanting to interrupt his mind as it pieced together his broken memories.

Neteyam was still recovering from a major trauma, he was allowed to be confused. “Can I touch your hand?” the question startled him and he hesitated a moment, not sure if he would be able to handle contact like that. He was trying not to let Neteyam’s defensiveness hurt, but it was still leaking through his weak barriers.

He found himself moving anyway, not able to deny Neteyam, even if he did not remember who he was. He held his hand out, just above where he had dropped Neteyam’s hand earlier. Neteyam was hesitant at first, tentatively pulling his hand closer over his chest, flipping his hand over to study his palm and feel his fingers, “soft. . .” his heart skipped and Neteyam continued his featherlight touches up his forearm, tilting his head when he trailed a finger along Ao’nung’s strake. Ao’nung’s eyes widened and he had to swallow a sharp intake of breath. Neteyam’s fingers continued up, and Ao’nung moved closer unconsciously allowing Neteyam to go up past his bicep to his shoulder, then his neck before stopping when he cupped Ao’nung’s cheek. Their eyes locked again for a moment before Neteyam’s dropped to his lips. Ao’nung struggled to keep his heartrate in check. His effort went down the drain when Neteyam’s thumb passed tentatively over his lips and he could not stop his sharp intake of breath.

Neteyam looked at him again, but this time there was recognition there, “Ao’nung. . .” the recognition he craved from Neteyam was laced into his tone. Neteyam opened his arms and he took the invitation without a second thought. He leaned down, wrapping his arms around Neteyam’s shoulders making sure to keep away from the bandages. “I saw her. . . I saw Eywa. . . but I could not go to her,” his eyes widened, but he did not pull away. He would not be pulling away for a long time, he decided, “I needed to see you. I missed you, Ao’nung.” Neteyam’s arms tightened around him and he could think of no better feeling than that, “even if I did not remember exactly who you were, I missed you.”

“I missed you too. . .” he choked on his emotions for the second time that night, crying softly into Neteyam’s neck.

Chapter Text

It was another six weeks before Neteyam was allowed to leave the recovery pod and Ao’nung spent every moment he could with Neteyam as he healed, only leaving for hunts, ceremonies, and things he could not get out of.

He was there for Neteyam’s first bandage change. . .

~~~

Neteyam writhed, he had been awake for a few hours now and he was getting restless. He was in pain, he wanted to move, he wanted to be out of the bandages, he wanted. . . but he could not. He needed to stay laying down, he needed the bandages to heal, and there was nothing Ao’nung could do about the pain he was in. Ao’nung knew what kind of pain he was feeling. . . his shin still sported the echoing pain of the gunshot. His was only a fraction of Neteyam’s though. . .

His mother entered the pod, being silent as possible, taking in the scene before her. He could see the sorrow and pity in her eyes as she watched Neteyam fuss and groan on the floor. She quickly masked her emotions though, her face falling into neutrality in an eerily similar fashion to Neteyam.

She kneeled down beside him, placing a gentle hand on his forearm, “do you think you can lean forward for me, Neteyam?” his mothers voice was soft, soothing Neteyam as he writhed, pain evident in his features. “There you go, that’s perfect.”

Neteyam grunted with the effort of holding his torso up, Ao’nung tried to hold more of his weight. They were changing his bandage, the first time since Neteyam had woken up, he was on one side of Neteyam, a hand on his uninjured shoulder, the other supporting his back. On his other side was his mother, she was moving swiftly, unwrapping the old bandage, cleaning the wound, checking its healing progress, applying healing ointments, and re-wrapping the wound with incredible care. They were the only two Neteyam allowed to change his bandages. . . Jake had suggested he stay to help but Neteyam had refused his help in sitting up, he did not want his father to see him like this. His mother had banished everyone else from the room while his wound was uncovered, there was just too much room for error when unnecessary bodies were clogging up the small space.

Neteyam bit into his lip, pulling Ao’nung from his thoughts, he leaned in quietly speaking to him, “hey, I know it hurts, but you are going to break the skin. You do not need another injury to heal,” he shifted his hold so that he could place his forehead on Neteyam’s temple, hoping to provide some comfort.

“It. . . hurts- ah. . . Ao’nung,” the broken words tore at his heart and he hoped his mother was nearly finished.

“Just hold onto me, squeeze my arm as hard as you need.” Neteyam’s free hand grabbed onto his bicep and squeezed with every movement his mother made against the wound, “that is right. There you go.” He continued to whisper to Neteyam, saying anything that came to mind. Anything that might distract him from the pain he was in.

When his mother finished he moved in front of Neteyam, moving Neteyam’s legs over his hips and situating Neteyam between his own legs, letting him sag against his chest to recover. He hugged him close, hating that he could not take his pain away.

~~~

He was also there the first time Neteyam was able to sit up on his own. . .

~~~

His mother walked in and he cringed internally. . . it was time to change Neteyam’s bandage. Beside him Neteyam stiffened, “hello, boys. I have brought a new antibiotic spread to try, Kiri said it should sooth more and hurt less,” she kept her voice impossibly soft, trying not to impose too much. Especially now that Neteyam was sporting a deep frown. . . “ she is a smart one, that girl. She used a healing plant from the forest to make this spread.”

She settled on her knees to Neteyam’s left, waiting for him to tell her he was ready. If there was anything he loved most about her, it was her patience and her care for others. She never forced anyone to heal, just suggested – sometimes strongly – that they needed to hurt before they could heal. Neteyam took a deep breath before sitting up. . . completely on is own. . . they both gasped but Neteyam did not seem to notice as he just reached out for Ao’nung like he usually did, “Neteyam. . .”

“Hmm?” he looked over, a little confused, “what is it?”

“Y-you just sat up,” Neteyam raised his brow as if saying ‘duh,’ he rolled his eyes, “on your own.”

Neteyam’s eyes widened, “oh. . . I did not notice,” he turned to Ao’nung’s mom sheepishly, “is that ok?”

She let out a surprised laugh, “of course, child. It is a good thing. You are healing.” Neteyam smiled, “I still have to change your bandage though,” his smile fell into a pout and he turned back to the front, holding his hand out to Ao’nung.

Taking his hand he settled into their regular routine; Neteyam squeezed his hand as hard as he needed, Ao’nung distracted him with whispers and promises, and when they were done he slipped his legs on either side of Neteyam’s hips, Neteyam’s legs doing the same overtop of his and let Neteyam sag against him to recover.

~~~

During the days, they weaved together to pass time and help Neteyam feel like he was contributing, and Ao’nung often slept in the pod whenever possible. . .

~~~

He ran his fingers over Neteyam’s scalp again, watching him weave a basket with amazing speed and accuracy, “you are really good at weaving, you know?”

Neteyam looked up at him, his back was currently rested against Ao’nung’s chest, “well, yeah,” he kissed Ao’nung’s jaw absentmindedly, fingers still flying over his weaving, “it is the staple of the Omatikaya. Even without using a loom, I can make many things.”

He smiled, burying his face into Neteyam’s hair, just enjoying every moment he was allowed with him. He had to leave soon for an important ceremony, but was finding it nearly impossible to extricate himself from Neteyam.  

~~~

He awoke early as per usual, the sun barely over the horizon. He was perfectly happy despite the dull ache he still felt in his chest and shoulder. He had not stood in nearly two months and he was feeling the affects on his body; the near painful itch in his muscles to move, he could almost feel them atrophy as he stayed immobile. He was nestled in Ao’nung’s warm embrace though, and that did a lot to sooth the aches in his body, he stretched, making sure to loosen every muscle he could, the best he could without straining his body. Turning over he burrowed back into Ao’nung’s warmth, he was not sure how, but he was always warmer than Neteyam, so he wrapped his arms around his torso bringing their chests flush, burrowing his nose in Ao’nung’s neck.

He let his body relax again, the pull of sleep tickled at the back of his mind, but he knew it would amount to nothing. He was never one for sleeping in, always ready for an early morning exploration, instead he busied himself with nuzzling Ao’nung’s neck and playing with his hair, rousing him not so covertly. Ao’nung chuckled sleepily, his thigh slotting through Neteyam’s and his arms hugging him tighter pulling him into a bear hug, stopping his ministrations, “you are not very subtle.”

“I know,” he smiled into Ao’nung’s chin, continuing to nuzzle and place small kisses along the bone, nipping him on the chin, “I am hungry.”

Ao’nung pouted, “trying to get rid of me so quickly? I am hurt,” he placed a hand over his heart in mock pain when he pulled back.

Laughing he sat up with Ao’nung, “no, but I cannot get it myself,” Ao’nung did not miss the bout of self pity like he had hoped he would, his eyes sharpening momentarily, “I know, I know, I will soon.”

“That is not what I was going to say,” his tone said otherwise, the high pitch giving away his lie instantly.

He gave Ao’nung a taunting smile, “of course not.” Ao’nung stood, contemplating something, “would you like to come with me?”

He pinned his ears back, slightly annoyed. He was under strict orders to not move, “you know I cannot, Ao’nung. . . as much as I really would like to. . .”

Ao’nung kneeled before him, mischief alight in his eyes, how he missed this side of his love, he had been so serious since Neteyam had gotten hurt, “I do not mean you walking-“

He cocked his head, curiosity piqued, “how would I go with you then?” his tail flicked around behind him, restless.

Ao’nung tsked, “if you would let me finish I would tell you, skxawng.” His lopsided smile took the bite out of his words, “you cannot walk, but they said nothing about me taking you out of the pod!”

He lifted a brow, “that tells me literally nothing, Ao’nung.” He punched his shoulder, “even Lo’ak is better at explaining his stupidity.”

Instead of talking Ao’nung turned around, displaying his back to Neteyam who was starting to get the idea, “grab on.”

He studied Ao’nung’s back, contemplating the implications of getting on. . . on one hand, both Ronal and his father had forbid him from walking until he had healed which implied he was to stay in the pod, but on the other hand, he was itching to get out of this damned space. Leaning forward he wrapped his arms around Ao’nung’s shoulders an got situated, “ok, ready.”

“Hold on with your legs, your shoulder is still healing.”

“Yes, sa’nok,” despite his mocking, he tightened his legs and let his left arm hang so he did not use it instinctively. He left his right arm around Ao’nung’s shoulders though. . . for balance, right, for balance. . . not to feel the muscles in Ao’nung’s chest tighten and move as he stood.

“Ha-ha,” his arms locked onto Neteyam’s legs and hips making sure there was no way he could fall, Neteyam smiled, maneuvering so he could kiss Ao’nung on the cheek.

Leaning into his ear he whispered as they left the pod, “thank you, my sweet warrior.”

“Anything for you.”

They spent the better part of the morning walking around the village, and the People, for the most part, did their best to ignore the strange sight of the two of them. Others nodded, amusement in their eyes. Those, like Lo’ak, mocked. Tuk asked to join in. His mother laughed and his father looked at him amused. By the time they made it back to the pod with their food Neteyam was ready for a nap. He forgot how tiring it was to socialize and he never really noticed how heavy his head was.

He was focusing on not falling asleep on top of Ao’nung who was comfortably situated with his back against Neteyam’s chest, his arms resting on Neteyam’s open thighs as he sung quietly weaving a net. Neteyam was just watching, but nearly lost the battle when his head lolled a little too low and Ao’nung noticed, “hey, you ok, love?”

He tried to focus on Ao’nung’s eyes when he turned his head to look back at Neteyam, “yeah. . . just a little tired.” Ao’nung was up, arranging mats behind Neteyam before he had even registered he had stood up, “what. . . are you doing?” he was a little more alert now, trying to figure out what Ao’nung was thinking.

“Just getting you comfortable,” with that he planted himself back between Neteyam’s legs and picked up his weaving again, “just lean on me and sleep. The mats are just to make sure you do not fall backward.”

He laughed, love swelling in his heart for the boy in his lap. Wrapping his arms around Ao’nung’s waist he rested his chin on his shoulder, leaning his head against Ao’nung’s and promptly fell asleep.

Chapter Text

He startled at the soft knock on the door, trying not to move too much he looked up to see his mother looking down at them rubbing her stomach absently, “good morning sa’nok. Neteyam is just taking a nap.” He gestured, ‘I see you’ trying not to jostle Neteyam. She returned the gesture and he could swear a soft smile appeared on her lips as she took in their predicament.

He had noticed that she was getting used to the idea of him being in love with an ‘outsider.’ Sure, she had been happy for him initially, but when the elation had worn off he saw her brain working, trying to figure out how something like this could happen. Ao’nung, when the Sully’s first arrived had shared her sentiments about the Forest Na’vi staying with them. . . his perception had slowly changed though as he got particularly close with a certain former Omatikayan prince. . . Neteyam had really been the factor that changed his tune.

Tuk was practically a younger sibling to him and he loved her dearly. Kiri, while still a bit odd, had grown on him as well, they had had a few pleasant conversations since she did that weird glowing thing to wake up Neteyam. He even had an improving relationship with Lo’ak now. Well, most of the time they did. Really only when Neteyam or Tsireya were around. . .

His and Neteyam’s relationship definitely complicated things though. . . there were many reasons where Neteyam’s being Omatikaya could jeopardize his position as heir and prince. He had come to terms with the idea of not becoming Olo’eyktan after his father, it was understandable that his mother needed to go through that fear within herself. She was not one who enjoyed change.

More recently though, she had warmed up significantly to Neteyam. He had a feeling that it was due to Neteyam’s drive; he is never one to complain or be lazy. When she asked something of him, he always did it with no complaint, even recently when he had been in severe pain.

He had not seen much difference in her attitude towards the other Sully’s though. . . he was not too concerned about that now though. In time, she would warm up to them as he had. Hopefully.

“I can see that, my son,” she walked fully into the pod, “he must have really enjoyed your walk this morning, no?” her expression and tone were unreadable.

“I am sorry if I should not have brought him outside, but I could not see him sad anymore. I had to take him out for a bit,” he placed his net aside before putting a hand on the side of Neteyam’s head, nuzzling into his jaw a bit, “this pod is starting to feel like a cage to him. . . to both of us. I do not know how he has made it this long without going insane. . .”

His mother sat beside him, she was so far along in her pregnancy now that she struggled to sit down. Holding out a hand he offered to help, “I can sit myself,” he left his hand out, saying nothing and she struggled a moment more before taking his hand, “I am going to strangle your sempul, I swear.”

He laughed softly, “please, I would love to see that.”

She smiled, “taking Neteyam out was good for him I think. He seemed to be getting a little restless. . . I probably should have allowed him out earlier than this.” He let out the breath he was holding, “I am actually here to examine him. . . I want to see if we cannot get him up and moving soon. At this rate bedrest is doing more harm than good. He needs to move to stay healthy.”

He had noticed Neteyam wincing and groaning when he moved or stretched. . . he thought he was just sore from laying down. Now that he thought about it, he probably should have brought up these concerns with her earlier. They were not meant to be still for long periods of time. . . they were meant to move, to run, to be free.

He looked around for a way to do this without waking Neteyam but he was completely trapped in his embrace, sighing he ran a finger along Neteyam’s ear hoping to jostle him, “hey,” he flicked his ear lightly and Neteyam grumbled, his ear flattening against his head. “Neteyam.” He flicked again and Neteyam’s eyes opened, annoyance clear.

He hissed, “stop skxawng,” when he went to close his eyes again Ao’nung laughed and pulled on his tail a bit earning him another, more ‘awake’ hiss, “if you do not want to lose that hand. . .” he warned, still seemingly unaware of Ao’nung’s mothers presence.

“Neteyam.” He tried to take the laugh out of his voice.

“What?” it came out near a growl and he had to bite his cheek to stop himself from laughing.

“I think he is trying to warn you I am here,” his mother spoke up and Neteyam froze, eyes opening fully.

Pulling back he felt Neteyam turn to his mother, nodding a greeting, “Good morning, Ronal.”

“Good morning,” there was laughter in her voice and he joined which earned him a cuff on the side of the head.

He leaned up, looking behind him, “hey!” Neteyam just smirked, turning him around until he was settled back into his lap. He turned back to his mother who said nothing in his defense, “do you see this?”

His mother laughed at him, “yes, and I would have done the same to Tonowari.” He scoffed, pouting in mock hurt.

Neteyam laughed from behind him, “so, I assume you would like to assess my shoulder?”

“Yes.”

Neteyam kissed his temple before releasing his hold on Ao’nung’s middle, opening his legs. He moved away missing the contact already, he took up residence on Neteyam’s right side, placing a hand on his knee while he watched his mother take the bandage off Neteyam.

The bullet wound was now a small scar mere centimetres above Neteyam’s heart, still white with how fresh it was. The scarring though was not what they were worried about, the bullet went ‘through and through’ as Jake had put it, tearing muscle, tendon, cartilage, and chipping bone as it went. It had nearly killed Neteyam with the damage it wrought.

His mother looked at the scar a while, poking and prodding both sides before gently lifting Neteyam’s arm, twisting and turning the shoulder in every possible direction. “Ok.” She put some ointment on the scars and wrapped a new bandage around his chest and shoulders, “so, you are not completely healed yet,” Neteyam deflated a little, “but,” he perked up again, “it is time. Bedrest is now doing more harm than good. You may begin walking again.” Neteyam whooped and Ao’nung was right there with him. He really missed Neteyam. “But!” they both quieted down again, “do not overdo it. You still have a limited range of motion and your muscles are stiff. You may look healed but you are not.” She looked them both in the eye, making her point, “you may walk. You may not run, swim, or climb. Better yet, please just do not go in the water or the forest.”

Neteyam nodded dutifully, “thank you,” he pushed his lips together, getting emotional, “thank you.”

“Of course, dear boy.” She wrapped an arm around his shoulder, “now, let us get you standing.”

Neteyam looked like he wanted to say something but she sent him a withering look which halted any talk on the matter of her being so pregnant she should be resting. “Please, I am so ready to walk again,” Ao’nung wrapped a hand around his shoulder as well and he grabbed onto them as they helped him to stand.

His heart was fluttering fast as he finally put weight onto his legs.

They were sore and felt weak, but he was so relieved to be standing again. He leaned most of his weight on Ao’nung hoping Ronal did not notice, he did not want to hurt her. She was a fierce warrior and like his mother they refused to be coddled simply because they were pregnant. . . he had heard stories from his father about how his mom had been hunting until the day each of them were born. There was even a rumor that he was born during a hunt but neither of his parents had ever confirmed that fact.

Re-focusing himself he tried to take a step, his hips not working quite right and it turned out more like a stumble, “oops,” he tightened his arm on Ao’nung trying again. This time he stepped successfully and pride bloomed in his chest and he could not help the giggle that bubbled up.

Ronal smiled at him, “there we go. Now, I will show you some exercises to help retrain your muscles, it will help with the walking. I also want you to take a short walk tonight before you sleep, Ao’nung, you go with him.”

“Yes, sa’nok,” Ao’nung squeezed his wrist, excited for him.

He took another step and another and another. Ronal began showing him numerous stretches, moving his legs in every which way in attempt to bring his muscle mass up again. It would take a while, but he was determined he would be back to normal soon enough.

He wanted 100% of his flexibility and strength back, it was the only way he could put this terrible nightmare behind him. The Sky People would not be gone forever and it was only a matter of time before they returned for them again. He needed to be back at full strength to be of any help.

When Ronal started breathing heavier he stopped, “I think I am done for now,” she pinned him with a hard stare, “I am getting tired and my shoulder is a bit sore,” he said weakly, “please?” she did not believe him in the slightest but nodded anyway.

She scoffed, “fine, fine.” They helped him sit back on the mat, “just know, if you were not injured, I would school you.”

“I know,” he smiled, her strong spirit. . . it was a breath of fresh air. Everyone had been walking on glass around him. . . even Lo’ak had not insulted him in a month.

“I want you to come to the evening meal tonight. I think it will be good for everyone to see you,” her ears flattened, “since so many were lost in the fight, our People have been down a bit. I think seeing you will cheer them. Knowing that someone survived this evil will help them.”

He nodded, “I would love to.”

She nodded to them as she walked out of the pod, disappearing into the distance. “So. . . are you actually tired or did you want to keep going.” Ao’nung’s voice was directly behind his ear, his hot breath falling in the back of Neteyam’s neck making the hairs raise and chills run down his spine. His breath hitched and he turned to look at Ao’nung.

Despite his excitement at his new freedom, his eyelids were drooping, still tired from their adventurous morning and now from walking around on weak muscles, “I am a bit tired still. . . I want to keep walking though. I really missed just moving around. . .” he gritted his teeth. . . he hated this feeling. He was not used to feeling weak and he just wanted everything to go back to normal. He was not ready to stay sitting but his legs were shaking and weak, only from the short time he was upright.

Ao’nung gave him a small smile, “we can go for a walk in a couple of hours?” his head cocked and Neteyam could not help but to love him. He was so caring and kind, the exact thing he needed in his life right now.

“Thank you,” he sat down, opening his arms for Ao’nung, inviting him back into their previous positioning, “now, come. I need your warmth.” Ao’nung laughed but dropped into Neteyam’s hold, cuddling into him briefly before picking up his weaving once again humming a soft tune as he worked. Neteyam fell asleep quickly.

Chapter Text

Neteyam leaned on him heavily for the next two weeks, but eventually he regained his strength, slowly leaning on him less and less until he was walking on his own. They were on their second lap of the village when they ran into his mother again, “my, Neteyam. You are walking well,” she was smiling more now and he could not help but smile proudly along with her, “how is your shoulder feeling, dear?”

Neteyam smiled too, giving her a light hug, “much better, thank you. Just a little bit of pain here and there when I move my shoulder too fast.” They pulled away from each other and his heart melted. Neither of them were good at showing emotion, but when you put the two of them together, they just. . . lit up.

“That is normal, my boy.” She looked a little troubled before starting again, “this may be a bit too fast, but you seem to be ready. You may return to the water.” Neteyam whooped and he found himself joining, hugging Neteyam close to him, smiling from ear to ear. “Now boys, do not go overdoing it. You may look all healed and whole, but your body has gone through a severe trauma.” Her hand dropped to her stomach.

She still had not given birth to his youngest sibling – another thing to be excited about, they would be arriving in their lives at any moment, “take it slowly. Go for a swim maybe. Stay in shallow water for now, if your shoulder stings or is sore, get out. If you feel up to it though, you may swim.” She poked them both in the chest, “do not by any means ride your Ilu. Am I understood?”

Neteyam was still smiling wide, “yes, ma’am!”

Her brows furrowed, frowning in confusion, “ma’am?”

Neteyam chuckled, realizing his mistake, “sorry, it is an honorary term my father taught us for addressing noble women.”

Her brows raised, “hmm,” she contemplated, “call me sa’nok.”

His heart quickened, happiness spreading to every corner of his being. His mother had fully accepted Neteyam into their family, which was, well, he thought it would be nearly impossible since she never let her emotions show. . . Neteyam looked surprised too, but he did not even hesitate to take her up on the offer, “yes, sa’nok.” Neteyam turned to him. He was giddy, practically vibrating, “I am going to go tell Tuk! She will be so excited!”

Ao’nung suppressed a laugh at his declaration, “I am sure she will, love,” probably not more excited than you.

“Do not go swimming unless Ao’nung is with you! Tuk cannot help you if you drown!” his mother called after him, worry evident in her tone. She tsked when Neteyam was out of sight, “am I going to regret letting him back into the water?” her worried eyes landed on his and he realized just how scared she looked, “do you think it was too fast? I seem to be slipping when it comes to that boy. . . I just-I want him to be happy. . .”

Placing a comforting hand on her shoulder he chuckled softly, “sa’nok you are doing perfectly fine. . . he will be alright. Neteyam is very smart. He knows his limits, he will not push himself too hard,” well. . . “maybe.”

She settled a little, letting out a breath, “ok, ok.”

“You are very fond of him, hmm?” he cocked his head, smiling. Neteyam was definitely growing on her, slowly, but he was.

A small smile graced her lips, “I am, maitan. I very much am,” he kept looking at her, waiting.

She hissed, “it was nothing!”

“It was everything to him.”

Her face softened and she looked in the direction of the Sully’s mauri, “it is time I accepted them, I think.” He just hugged her, “he is a fine boy and he will make a wonderful mate.”

“Thank you, I know he will,” she cupped his cheek before walking off.

---

“Lo’ak!”

“What? I did not do anything. . .” she grabbed her tail from his palm, trying to calm her heart while he giggled, clearly proud of himself.

She hissed lightheartedly, punching him in the shoulder, “oh, it is on! Just you wait.”

Lo’ak just laughed, “sure, sure.”

Growling low she pressed a finger into his chest, “skxawng, I grew up as the only daughter of the Olo’eyktan and younger sister of Ao’nung. . . I am not someone to mess with.” Lo’ak’s smile fell and fear leaked into his gaze. He started stuttering off apologies and excuses, “you should see your face right now! You look like you are going to run away scared!” She could not help the laugh. A full belly laugh that had her stomaching aching in seconds, “you-you. . .”

Lo’ak sighed, “ha-ha, you got me,” an adorable pout graced his features. Framing his cheeks with her hands she tried to suppress her giggles. Lo’ak’s eyes widened and his mouth opened a little as he tried to suck in air. “Tsireya. . . ?”

Her gaze dropped to his mouth, she could not stop it, the movement of his jaw caught her attention but she could not tear her gaze away. She found herself breathing just as erratically, “uhm. . .”

“Tsireya. . .” He leaned forward, just slightly, but it was enough to send her heart beating much too fast.

“Lo’ak! Mom needs your help!” Tuk’s voice broke the spell in an instant and they pulled apart immediately. A blush exploded up her neck onto her cheeks. She felt like she was on fire. Tuk’s face peaked over the reef, “Lo’ak! Come on.”

Lo’ak cleared his throat, moving haltingly toward Tuk, “ok, ok. Coming Tuk. Just. . . wait for me a minute, ok?”

“Ok!” Her voice was cheery and the light tone bounced around her head, knocking off the walls of her skull whilst her brain melted with the sheer temperature of her cheeks.

Lo’ak’s eyes came into view and then she noticed his mouth was moving, “. . . ya? You ok?”

“S-sorry, what?”

“Are you doing ok? You seem a little. . . red,” his tone was mildly amused.

His hand caressed her cheek and she wondered vaguely how his hand did not get burned, “yeah,” then he smiled and her face heated even more and her heart fluttered. “You should-uh, your mother. . . help your mom.”

“I will. . . in a second,” his face got closer then. Her breathing stopped again and she waited, frozen in place to see what he was going to do. His eyes never left hers for a second and she watched as he moved to the side, kissing her cheek sweetly, “I will see you soon, Tsireya.”

Her mouth hung loose as he walked away, a little smirk on his lips. She had been so sure he was going to. . . whatever. She placed a hand on her cheek. She could still feel his lips lingering there. . . the things he did to her. She just could not explain how right he felt.

Huffing she turned back to their nets, reeling them in and adding the fish they had caught to their buckets. They were only half full and she would most definitely be here until eclipse filling them. She did not mind in the slightest though, it was for the most joyous of occasions.

In three days time Ao’nung and Neteyam will be promised to each other officially, in front of all of the People they will vow to stay true to one another until they are mated where in which they will become one.

This promising will surely be one of the generation. . . it was not often the Olo’eyktan’s first son gets promised. Especially to a son of a former Olo’eyktan. Sending out the nets again she let her mind wander, just listening to the waves, clearing her mind, letting the water sooth her.

“Tsireya, I cannot for the life of me find my-“

“Gah!” She whipped around, heart jumping directly to her throat at the sudden shout from behind her. She did not even hear the water disturbance, she had been totally out of it. “Ao’nung!”

Ao’nung’s smug face came into view and he just kept talking like he did not just cause her to jump out of her skin, “I cannot find my ceremonial chest piece. The white one to go with the dark blue loincloth. . . can you help me?” he pouted at her and she felt herself crumbling to her big brothers antics.

She shook her head, “I need to keep fishing, Ao. We gotta feed our People somehow. It is your ceremony.”

Ao’nung laughed pulling her out of the water, “I will help you after. Come on, I think my actually being dressed is more important than some fish, no?”

Laughing she poked an elbow into his ribs, “I do not know about that. . . I think the People would like to be fed more, hmm.”

He gasped, grabbing his chest in mock hurt, “Tsireya, you wound me,” his laugh did not help his case and they kept walking anyway. When they made it to their mauri she gasped at the utter state of chaos from within.

“Ao’nung!”

He snorted from behind her, “I was trying to find it!”

“Sure, sure,” she waded through the mess, looking through the disarray until she spotted the white and red beads attached to white cord, aha! “and you were so, so close, skxawng.” She fished out the semi-stiff woven piece, holding out to Ao’nung, “you really are blind, huh?”

He sputtered, looking between her, the piece, and the spot she had pulled it from. “I-I. . . I looked there!”

“Of course you did!” She kept her voice overly cheerful, pulling an annoyed huff from Ao’nung. She chuckled at her success. “Now, I do believe I was promised help with my fishing?”

He was still sputtering while she turned him around, pushing him out of the pod and toward her fishing spot. They fished until eclipse, even filling an extra basket, just in case.

---

“. . . teyam. . . Neteyam!” His ears flicked as he jolted awake. Opening his eyes he looked around to see what could have woken him up but nothing was amiss. All of his siblings were asleep around him. Same with his parents. Huffing he closed his eyes again, searching for the quiet lull of sleep. “Neteyam!” a hand touched his shoulder and his eyes shot open again. Not an inch from his face was Ao’nung, he swallowed a shout, bunching his fingers into fists so he did not strangle the beautiful man above him.

Hissing he tried to keep quiet as he stood up, “Ao? What is it? We are supposed to be sleeping now. . .” the rules and excuses piled up in his brain then washed away when Ao’nung smiled at him. He returned the smile, letting Ao’nung pull him off his mat and away from his families sleeping forms, as much as he wanted to obey their parents, he wanted to see Ao’nung more. It felt good to do something for himself, even if it was something as small as sneaking out to see his love.

He let Ao’nung pull him along, heading for the forest. The moment they crossed into the trees he pulled Ao’nung in for a kiss. Standing on his tip toes he wrapped his arms around Ao’nung’s neck. When the need for air forced him to pull away he only allowed himself half a second to breath before he pulled Ao’nung in again.

Ao’nung laughed against his lips, catching Neteyam’s bottom lip with his teeth, “eager are we?” Instead of answering he took the opportunity to slip his tongue in Ao’nung’s mouth. Ao’nung made a small sound and his heart skipped.

Pulling away he smiled at Ao’nung, running deeper into the forest. Turning around he chuckled at the dazed look in Ao’nung’s eye as he tripped over roots and ruts along the ground. When he caught up he gave Ao’nung another kiss, revelling in the small hums he made. They continued to dance around each other, small kisses and touches exchanged until they were at their cove.

Ao’nung pulled on his hand and he brought their chests together, “my rulebreaker, when did you get so comfortable defying orders?”

Chuckling he flicked Ao’nung’s ear with his free hand, “anything for you, Ao’nung,” he pushed up onto his toes to place chaste kiss on Ao’nung’s lips. “Anything.”

Ao’nung’s smile was brighter than the glowing plants around them, “you are perfect, my love.” His head dropped to nuzzle Neteyam’s neck.

“Ao’nung. . .” a hot blush shot over his face, “I am not,” he held Ao’nung’s head to him, fighting to breathe normally.

“Well, then I guess we disagree,” he huffed, then tried not to choke when Ao’nung nipped at the junction of his neck and shoulder, his tongue then darted out to sooth the skin. “Stay with me for a while? I just want to hold you. . . I cannot sleep. I am too restless. I need to be with you,” his tone was pleading and Neteyam found that he could never deny the boy before him.

It was simply an impossibility. He was weak to Ao’nung’s every whim. He did not mind though. . . he loved their adventures.

He did not have to answer though, he just pulled away from Ao’nung’s embrace, walking to the edge of the cove to sit, his toes in the water letting it calm him. Ao’nung was beside him in a second, sitting so close that their sides were flush.

Leaning back in the sand he let out a sigh, smiling when Ao’nung’s head came to rest on his chest. Wrapping his arms around Ao’nung’s back he traced lazy circles on his exposed skin, delighting in the feeling of Ao’nung’s arms squeezing him tightly around the waist. “I love you, my Ao’nung,” he kissed the top of his head, nuzzling his hair affectionately, letting his scent sooth him, the slight pull of sleep rising again.

“I love you too, my love.” Ao’nung’s head burrowed further into his chest, his arms tightening again. It should be uncomfortable, how tight Ao’nung was holding him, but he had never felt anything better.

He was still smiling when he got to his families pod, mind still floating with thoughts of Neteyam. Until he met his fathers eyes that is. . .

Still laying with his mother on his chest, his father looked at him, his eyes impassive. Bowing his head he waited for the scolding, but it never came, instead his father smiled at him. “Your mother and I did the same thing.”

And that was it. There were no other words spoken between them. His heart felt a million times lighter and he made his way to his mat, falling into a fitful sleep.

---

Someone was pushing on his shoulder and he had a sinking feeling that this time it would not be blue eyes he was waking up to. . . for the second time this night. Groaning he opened his eye, but only a slit, It was still dark. Grumbling he looked to the side to see who was trying their very best to make sure he did not get enough sleep.

He stopped short though, grumblings falling completely silent when he saw blue eyes staring back at him. Ronal’s to be exact. His mother standing not far behind the crouching woman. “Mom?” he looked at Ronal, “w-what?”

She just smiled at him, “it is very early, I know, first light is still a few hours off. We must be going now, though, we need to brainstorm.” She got up and walked away like that made any sense at all.

“Ok?” he looked back to his mother and she was nodding along with Ronal. . . maybe he had missed something?

Ronal stopped to look at them expectantly, waving them along, “come, come. We have a lot of work to do.” His mother leaned down to grab his hand when he did not go to move and he let himself  be pulled away from his comfortable, warm mat and away from any semblance of actual sleep he might get this night, Sighing he followed after them. There was no point in arguing anyway.

If they were working together on something he really should be happier about it. Their relationship was still rocky at the best of times. They were getting better but they were still two very different people who would not naturally get along.

They were trying though, he supposed. That had to count for something.

Actually, in this moment, they were getting along very well. . . almost too well.

Suspiciously well, in fact. . .

Cocking his head he tried to listen in to their conversation, their excited whispers too fast and too soft to understand. Sighing again he pouted in defeat. He was so tired. . . him and Ao’nung had stayed out extremely late last night and he had not snuck back into their pod any more than an hour before this. “Mom?” she looked back at him, “what is going on. . . why are you two getting along so well this morning?”

“What do you mean, maitan? We have always gotten along,” her tone was cheery and she blinked at him innocently. Beside her Ronal was nodding.       [my son]

Rolling his eyes he decided pulling a truthful answer from her was not worth tempting fate. . . or his mothers mood after being questioned. “Sure.”

They stopped outside a pod he had seen villagers come and go from but had never actually seen what was housed within. The smell of leather and wood filled his nose as they entered. . . kind of like their nook for clothing and accessory designing. He looked around, tilting his head in confusion, trying to figure out what they were doing here. He took in the various projects that looked to be in varying states of completion, all were ceremonial pieces by the looks of the intricacy. He had a feeling he knew what they had pulled him in here for and he pinned his ears to his head, “sa’nok,” he laced his tone with warning, hoping to get both of their attention and it worked. They both stopped what they were doing to look at him, effectively sizing him up with their eyes, calculating. “No-“

“Come here,” Ronal’s tone was soft but it left no room for argument.

He obeyed. Walking over so she could measure a string of leather along his torso, deflating a little.

They were there until well past first light creating an entirely new ceremonial outfit for him. He grumbled and hissed and growled throughout the whole ordeal, but their intentions were pure and he really appreciated what they were doing for him. Even if he was just about ready to fall over and throw a tantrum.

He was Metkayina now and, by all accounts, should be wearing a Metkayina ceremonial dressings, but Ronal had sought out his mothers knowledge on the Omatikaya ceremonial traditions to create a sort of. . . remix of the two. It was exactly what he had needed. He missed his home, and despite loving the sea and the culture here, he truly wanted a piece of his home with him on this day.

He was eternally grateful that Ronal had considered this when she decided what he was to wear to the ceremony.

They hand sewed, crafted, cut and beaded every thread to his exact measurements. Literally moulding the clothes to him and him alone and when they were done they stepped back, staring at their hard work.

Tears pooled in his mothers eyes and he smiled at her, his heart softening at the sight of her vulnerability. He walked over to pull her into a tight, brief hug. She hugged him tight, “my beautiful baby boy. You are growing up too fast.”

Her voice broke and she hiccupped, “sa’nok. . .”

“I am fine. I am just happy for you,” her tears said otherwise. But he did not say anything more. “I love you, maitan.”

“I love you too, sa’nok.”

Chapter Text

“I hate you,” his head was pounding now. He had to make nice with everyone though. Smiling when they congratulated them. Answering their prodding questions politely rather than hissing at them like he so very much wanted to in his current mood.

He really should take a nap before he bites someone who gets too close to him. In his peripheral Ao’nung shoulder was looking pretty biteable at this very moment. Especially when his dumbfounded reply came back to Neteyam, “what? Why?”

He wanted to hiss at him, thoroughly annoyed, but he knew that would get them nowhere and Ao’nung  did not really deserve to take the brunt of his sleep deprived induced foul mood. Even though it was his fault, “I am so tired that I can barely keep my eyes open let alone make someone else believe I am so thankful for their gracious blessing, or ‘yes, my eyes are actually this colour,’” he pouted. Rubbing his thumb between his eyes where his head was aching the most. It did not relieve his pain in the slightest.

Ao’nung rested a hand on his cheek, his thumb caressing him under his eye. His eyes showed his worry clearly and Neteyam almost felt bad for lashing out at him. . . almost, “we got back with plenty of time to sleep though. . . were you too restless to sleep, my love?” between the warm hand on his cheek and the other on his knee he began to relax.

His heart absolutely melted and he leaned his forehead onto Ao’nung’s shoulder. His headache dissipated and so did his anger. . . mostly. “We did. Except for the fact that our moms woke me up hours before first light to make my ceremonial clothing. . . I have been awake ever since. . .” sighing he placed a kiss on Ao’nung’s collarbone.

Ao’nung’s face morphed into concern a moment before  he pulled them away from first meal, “w-what are you doing? The meal has not finished yet. . .” he tripped over himself, trying to get to his feet with some semblance of grace.

Ao’nung chuckled at him, “you were just picking at your food and everyone can congratulate us later when we are actually promised, you know, at the ceremony,” he kept walking and his firm grip on Neteyam’s hand gave him no choice but to follow him blindly, wondering where exactly they were off to.

When Ao’nung stopped in front a of a very familiar recovery pod he turned to Neteyam looking sheepish. “I know this is probably the last place you want to be but it is the only place I could think of that was private enough. . .”

“Private?” cocking his head to the side he huffed out a laugh.

“Yeah,” Ao’nung blushed, moving the covering aside, gesturing Neteyam inside.

Head still cocked to the side he obliged, hoping Ao’nung would give him some answers inside. It looked exactly the same. The same walls he had stared at, memorized, for almost two months.

Ao’nung embraced him from behind, a hand snaking around to splay across his abdomen causing butterflies to erupt in his stomach. “Ao’nung?” he placed his hands over Ao’nung’s, lacing their fingers, “why are we here?”

Ao’nung’s chin rested on his shoulder and he turned to nuzzles Ao’nung’s jaw, waiting for his answer, rubbing his knuckles slowly. “I thought we could take a nap?”

He stopped nuzzling, pulling back, trying to suppress his smile, “what about the ceremony?”

“It is not until later tonight and there is really nothing for us to do until then. . .” there was laughter laced into his voice and he nuzzled into the side of Neteyam’s neck. He found it increasingly difficult to think clearly. Ao’nung always seemed to find a way to get everything he wanted. . . Neteyam would not have it any other way.

He thought about it. . . there was nothing he wanted to do more in this moment than to close his eyes and sleep. Except maybe hold Ao’nung.

He was not sure if he could go the rest of the day without getting some sleep though. . . and he could hold Ao’nung and sleep. . . He kissed Ao’nung’s jaw, then his cheek, muttering softly, “thank you.”

Ao’nung turned his head to kiss Neteyam soundly before he pulled back with a hiss. “You need to sleep and if we keep this up I am not going to be letting you. . .” Neteyam could not quite pulls his eyes from Ao’nung’s lips.

They were tinted red and puffier than normal from their kisses. . . he was almost tempted to ditch sleep completely. Before he could decide though, Ao’nung flopped down onto the mat and opened his arms for Neteyam.

Smiling again he obliged again, making himself comfortable in Ao’nung’s arms, “thank you.”

“Anytime, my love.”

He was asleep within minutes listening to Ao’nung’s breathing and steady heartbeat, warmed by his skin.

---

There was a commotion to his right and what he saw effectively halted time for him. Neteyam stood, eyes locked onto Ao’nung’s. He was. . . well he looked absolutely stunning.

Fuchsia feathers, typical of a Metkayina ceremonial feathered piece, hung from brown leather woven in to match Neteyam’s choker, disappearing behind his back before coming back around, wrapping around his stomach again in a cross.

His cummerbund was missing and he was wearing a white leather, colourfully beaded loincloth that was tailored to match his own; thicker than their everyday attire, hanging down to their knees. The armband on his right bicep was obviously of Metkayina design, but the left he did not recognize and vaguely reminded him of the styles the Sully’s wore when they first arrived in Awa’atlu.

He also had guards on his shins that were not Metkayina custom, but were seamlessly worked into the outfit. . . so well that it looked completely natural on him. Framed by the bright bioluminescence of the plants behind him he looked like an angel.

His throat went completely dry when Neteyam started approaching him, it seemed like forever while he scrambled to stand up, holding a hand out for him. He almost felt like he was unworthy of touching the perfection standing before him. He had to stop himself from wiping his hand off, “h-hi,” he tried not to cringe at how lame he sounded.

Neteyam, though, just smiled that beautiful smile, “hi.”

Kiri rolled her eyes from behind her brother but there was a small smile on her face. She elbowed him in the ribs when she passed by him to sit, “smooth, very smooth,” he heard her chuckle as she walked away.

Neteyam chuckled too, placing his hand in Ao’nung’s outstretched hand. Ao’nung just stared at him again, memorizing every freckle and feature of his face that he had already memorized countless times before, lost in his beauty. “Uhmm, Ao’nung?” he shook out of his daze, the image of Neteyam’s smile falling  away until it morphed into an amused quirk in his brow, mirrored by the smirk on his lips. “Shall we sit, yawnetu?”      [loved one]

He nodded, his head felt loose on his shoulders. Dropping down heavily beside Neteyam, he still was not quite sure if he would ever be able to take his eyes off of the boy anytime soon. . . “what?”

“You are perfect, you know that?”

A pretty blush crept up onto Neteyam’s cheeks and his breath caught again at the sight, “I am not. . .”

His voice was quiet and Ao’nung shook his head vigorously, “you are to me, and for me.” Neteyam smiled then, and he felt like he was finally coming back to himself.

Neteyam’s smile turned nervous, blush spreading rapidly still, “you too. . . for me that is.” Neteyam laughed nervously, squeezing Ao’nung’s hand, “now you have got me nervous and stuttering.”

They smiled at each other, turning back to the front, watching the rest of the People pour into the ceremonial grounds. He could not help but feel like everything, for once, was going right for them.

“Everyone! Thank you for coming tonight!” his fathers voice boomed and the crowd fell completely silent. “As many of you know, my son,” he gave Ao’nung a wide, proud smile, “has found his future mate.” A loud  cheer roared from their People.

He motioned for Ao’nung to stand up, to his left, then Neteyam to his right. “We are here today to announce before our Great Mother, and you, my People, the promising of my son, Ao’nung te Caitria Tonowari’itan to the honourable warrior Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk’itan!”      [name // name]

The crowd cheered again and it was deafening. While they calmed his father put a hand on each of their shoulders, moving them in front of himself to face each other. Taking their hands he clasped them together within his own a moment. Moving his hands back to their shoulders he squeezed, nodding his head before backing away so his mother could take over.

She approached them, smiling at them both and her eyes sparkled with happiness and pride. She wrapped their clasped hands carefully with a ceremonial cloth, “my boys,” she whispered, “I love you both. So much.” Putting her hands on top of the wrapping she closed her eyes, beginning her prayer.

When it was done she opened her eyes again, “this match is an excellent one. Our Great Mother approves!”

Another deafening cheer could be heard and his heart squeezed. He looked at Neteyam again, his eyes were glowing with excitement to match Ao’nung’s own.

They were officially promised!

“Now! Let us feast!” They both laughed at his fathers gusto, breaking the spell between them.

Smiling he waited for his mother to unwind the cloth from their hands before he hugged Neteyam tightly to his chest, “oof!” he hugged him back just as hard.

Ao’nung leaned in close, his breath tickling Neteyam’s ear, “I have got something for you. . .” he pulled out the gift he had been perfecting for months, a Ikran leather armband with seashell shards and sea glass woven in. “Here,” he smiled as he presented it. He knew Neteyam would love it.

His eyes traced the weave, lighting up, “oh, love, it is perfect!” grabbing his arm he untied the Metkayina ceremonial band, slipping it off. Picking up his piece he let his fingers linger on Neteyam, delighting in the soft warmth of his skin. He adjusted the strap, making sure it was snug. Neteyam watched him, his eyes so full of love it sucked the breath right out of him, “thank you, Ao’nung.”

He smiled, stealing a kiss, “I like this one better.”

“Me too,” Neteyam kissed him again. It was short and sweet. He just wanted to kiss him again. Instead Neteyam leaned away, grabbing a small pouch and retrieving a colourful beaded string, “I made something for you too.” He smiled shyly, “it is a hair piece. I made it to match mine,” he took at look at it. It was almost identical to the one weaved into Neteyam’s hair. He scooched forward, “may I?”

Tilting his head, he tried to keep his breathing slow and even, his ear flicked at every stray touch. “There.” Neteyam leaned back, his eyes taking him in, “perfect,” he smirked, “the beads look good too.”

Snorting he ruffled Neteyam’s braids, cupping his jaw, “you are cheeky. I love it,” he brought their foreheads together and closed his eyes, just letting himself feel Neteyam, “I love you.”

Neteyam rubbed their noses together laughing softly, “I love you, too.”

“Ready to eat, my love?” he hugged him close having no intention of letting him eat easily anytime soon.

Neteyam’s laugh rang like music to his ears, “yes.” He did not even try to move. They just held each other tight.

A few hours and a lot of fish later the party was slowing down, “Neteyam! Ao’nung!” Tuk launched herself at them, hugging Ao’nung then planting herself in Neteyam’s lap, forcing them to separate.

He laughed at her antics, “where have you been? I expected you much sooner, baby sister.”

Tuk smiled, mischief alight in her eyes, “Mom told me to leave you guys alone. She has been watching me all night,” he lifted his brow at her and she laughed unapologetically, “she looked away.”

He snorted, “I can see that.” She grabbed onto both of their arms, kicking her legs with joy. Ao’nung had to grab her ankles for fear of losing an eye, “Tuk Tuk, what has got you so jumpy?”

“I want to go for a swim! Come with me?” she blinked her eyes innocently, “mom would not want me to go alone.”

He smiled at her, she was ever the manipulator, “of course Tuk. I will always swim with you,” he looked over her head to Ao’nung who was also smiling at her.

“Yes! Lets go get everyone!” jumping up she pulled on their arms, ‘helping’ them up.

Ao’nung looked at him, eyebrow raised, “the others? She will not be swimming alone after all.”

He just laughed and grabbed his hand, following Tuk into the crowd in search of their siblings and cohorts. Ao’nung squeezed his hand and he could hear his chuckle. Tuk had really grown on him and Neteyam could not be happier about that. His baby sister was his life, the rest of his siblings as well, but mostly Tuk.

When they caught up to her she was already pulling on Kiri, Rotxo standing behind her with a small smile. So, they had been together. . . interesting, “Kiri! Come onnn!” Tuk dragged their sister along with them to the beach.

They had all been able to get out without being noticed; him, Ao’nung, Rotxo, Kiri, Tuk, Lo’ak and Tsireya were all jogging towards the water, the siblings silently, their lighter counterparts. . . not so quietly.

“You guys are too loud! We are going to get caught!” Lo’ak’s voice came out raspy and loud as he tried to ‘whisper.’

“No, you are going to get us caught with your whisper yelling!” Ao’nung whispered back, properly.

In no time they were at the beach, not caught, despite their loud footsteps and whisper-yelling.

“Look at them. . . they look like they are trying to eat something vile,” he snickered, leaning towards Tsireya.

She turned to look over where Ao’nung and Lo’ak were attempting to ‘get along.’ She giggled behind her hand, “so, you sent Ao’nung away too, hmm?”

He had seen how Tsireya was squirming around Lo’ak all day. . . well, more than usual. So, when she had finally shook his brother he had sent Ao’nung to ‘entertain him,’ then sidled over to her, hoping to get some details. “Yes. So, what did Lo’ak do this time?”

She began fidgeting again, “what do you mean?” she was definitely hiding something. Something he was about to find out. He would not rest until he got to the bottom of whatever was going on here. If Lo’ak had done something stupid. . . oh, that boy was in for the talk of a lifetime.

He tsked, placing his hand over hers, stopping them from fidgeting, “Tsireya. . . I can see you avoiding him. Every time he does get around you, you squirm. What did he do? I will talk to him, if he has done something. I am on you side, I am sure it was his fault.”

Her lips pressed together and she looked like she was mulling over her options. He did not push her. Just gave her hands a squeeze as they began fidgeting again. Was what he did so bad? Did she really think she could not tell him?

He tried to think of what exactly his idiot of a brother could have done, but nothing really came to mind. He worshipped the ground Tsireya stood on. Literally. He would do anything just to be in her presence.

Sure, he was stupid and a skxawng sometimes, but he meant well. Her nervousness though, he could not reconcile his idiotic, but innocent, brother with the nervousness in the woman beside him.

His mind was conflicted.

On one hand, Lo’ak was his brother and he would do any and everything in his power for him, but on the other hand, Tsireya was his friend and, at this point, was basically his little sister. If Lo’ak had done something to hurt her. . . he did not want to have to think what side he would take in that misunderstanding.

She sighed, pulling him from his minds spiral, “he did not do anything bad per say. . . just confusing.” She looked at him, eyes so similar to Ao’nung’s, but so different at the same time, “can I ask you a question?”

He tried to hide his surprise, masking it with a neutral look, “yeah, sure.”

“W-when did you know you liked Ao’nung? As more than a friend, I mean.” She was blushing now, chin to tucked into her chest.

He coughed, not quite expecting that, “uh, I do not really know if there was an exact time. . .” she seemed to deflate a little, “I was intrigued by him that first day when we flew in. From there, I think I fell for him slowly. Every time I saw him, every time I talked to him, every time I touched him. Before I knew it, I was in love with him.” She still would not meet his eyes, her gaze trained to the sand by her knee.

Ducking so he could catch her gaze he saw the indecision and fear there, “Tsireya. . . why are you asking me this?” her eyes flashed and landed on his.

“Your brother, he uh. . . at least I think he- uhm was going to kiss me the other day.” He stifled his smile, only letting his eyes widen a fraction, “he pulled away though. . .”

He frowned, standing up, “that skxawng! I will chew him out well and good-“

“N-no.” She put a hand on his shoulder, pushing him back down, “he pulled away because Tuk came, but when she left. . . I thought he might go through with it, but he kissed my cheek instead.”

“Oh. . .” he settled back into the sand, confused again.

“Yeah,” she looked down at her hands, “I do not know how to act around him now.”

He cocked his head. There was one thing she had not answered, “did you want him to kiss you?”

She froze, blush darkening, spreading to her ears, “yes.”

It was little more than a whisper, but it was confirmation, “he wanted to kiss you too.”

“How do you know that?”

He smiled, ready to expose his baby brothers’ soft side, “because he never stops talking about you, Reya. He is head over heels for you. I have seen him risk my mother’s wrath just to be beside you a little longer.”

Her eyes softened and she looked out at their boys, now bickering over something, “oh. . .”

He patted her shoulder before turning back to the water, “Hey! Lo’ak!” he looked over, argument with Ao’nung forgotten in an instant. Ao’nung looked a little offended at that and he filed that away for some teasing later on, “come here!”

Lo’ak practically skipped over, standing so close to Tsireya that he was practically falling over her, “you two need to talk.” Tsireya gave him a wide, doe-eyed look, “go on,” he smiled, ushering them both away from the beach.

When they were gone from view he waded out to Ao’nung, pulling him down for a chaste kiss, “I missed you, yawnetu.” Ao’nung smiled and he could feel it against his lips. He could not resists pulling him in for another. And another.

Kiri’s annoyed sigh echoed around them, “get a room, you two!”

Chapter Text

“Come on bro,” he put his hand on the back of Lo’ak’s neck, squeezing, “you are the star player, are you not?” he was taunting him, trying to snap Lo’ak out of this weird mood he was in.

Lo’ak, for some weird reason did not want to play water ball with him, so he was trying to make it a competition. Get his brother back in shape.

He did not take the bait though. . . he just smiled sadly and walked away.

He watched Lo’ak walk away from him, head down in shame, but what for Neteyam was not sure.

He had been trying to get a rise out of Lo’ak for months. . . his brother was just not taking the bait at all. Not since he had been hurt, that is.

Lo’ak had been, well, agreeable for months, doing anything and everything Neteyam asked and it was wigging him out.

He wanted his stubborn, skxawng brother back. . .

Earlier he had even tried to start a race with Lo’ak, following Kiri and Tuk’s lead, “you and me, bro? Wanna make a bet, see who can get to the reef faster?”

Lo’ak had looked saddened by that, “maybe another time, bro. . . I am not feeling it today.”

He had steered his Ilu away then, getting out of the water with the same shame filled tilt to his head he had now. . .

Turning in the opposite direction, he knew who he needed to talk to.

The only person that would know what exactly was up with his brother, Tsireya. They had gotten a lot closer since his injury.

She had confessed to him that she was heartbroken by his ‘death’ and she had not truly realized just how much she had grown to love them. All of them.

As Ao’nung’s promised, he now spent even more time with her and Ronal.

Tsireya with her Tsakarem training and him with learning how to be the mate of the Olo’eyktan. . . which was surprisingly different from being Olo’eyktan. . . some might say harder.

He found her teaching some young Na’vi how to fish, throwing nets in the shallow waters near the shore, “Tsireya!” She waved at him happily, telling the kids to practice some more.

“Neteyam!” she gestured to him, ‘I see you.’ He returned the sentiment, finally making it to her and she smiled, “how have you been? I have not seen you since yesterday. I have missed our talks!”

He laughed at her excitement, “sorry, sorry, I was with Lo’ak. Trying to get him to, you know. . . be normal again.” He sighed, sitting down in the sad, playing in the water with his hands, trying to distract himself.

She sat down beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder, “Neteyam, what is wrong?”

Her voice was soothing, and it helped him get out his next words “. . . has Lo’ak said anything to you? About me?” he cringed. That came out wrong, but there was nothing he could do about it now.

“No, I do not think so? Why? Is he ok?” her voice was worried.

Shaking his head he waved off her concern, “he just seems a bit. . . off to me. . .”

“How so?”

“He keeps tip toeing around me recently. . . he will not take my bait.” He did not look at her but he could feel her smile.

“Tip toeing? Bait?” she laughed, “you are concerned because your brother will not argue or fight with you?”

Well, when she put it that way, “. . . yes.”

“Neteyam. . .” her tone was chiding, but also thoroughly amused.

He furrowed his brows, throwing his hands up in frustration, “it is not like him! I know my brother Tsireya, this is not him.” She fell quiet, “I am sorry. . . I did not mean to yell.”

“No, it is not that. . . you are right,” she hangs her head, “it is not like him at all. I just did not want to see it, I think.” She sighed heavily and his ears perked.

. . . that was a sigh of a person that knew what was going on, “do you know what could be wrong with him?”

“Yes. . . I think I do, but I am not sure it is not my place to say anything. . .” she pressed her lips together in a clear effort of trying not to spill everything to him.

One thing he loved about Tsireya was that she was honest. . . sometimes too honest. “Tsireya, I am worried about him. . . I need to know what you think it could be. I need to know if there is anything I can do.”

She looked him in the eye, eyebrows raised high, “it is about you skxawng!” he stopped, unsure how to react to that.

Him? “What do you mean it is my fault?”

She sighed, like what she meant was so completely obvious that he was a fool for missing it, “I did not say it was your fault, Neteyam. I said it was about you.”

He cocked his head, trying to figure out what the hell she could mean, “I do not understand.”

“He cannot forgive himself for getting you shot!” she threw her hand out, pointing to Lo’ak in the distance, “you almost died and he blames himself.”

He closed his mouth, letting that bit of news sink in. “That skxawng! How could he think something like that?”

She tilted her head, “I do not know, Neteyam. But he does blame himself.”

He put his head in his hands, “I just want my brother back. . . I miss him.”

She cocked her head again, smiling at him, “tell Lo’ak that.”

She was throwing his words back at him. He leaned back on his palms, looking up into the clear sky, “he will not hear me,” he sighed.

“Make him hear you.”

He let out a frustrated laugh, “and how might I manage something like that? Listening is not exactly something Lo’ak is particularly good at.”

“He listens to me?” he lolled his head to the side, raising his brows sarcastically, “oh, do not look at me like that. He listens to you too.”

“Lo’ak? Are we talking about the same hardhead?”

“Neteyam,” she warned, flicking his ear.

“What?”

She looked at him then, eyes completely serious, “he listens to you, you know. Probably more than he listens to anyone else. . . you are his big brother.”

He did not know how to respond to that. Instead, he just looked at the sky again, thinking, “ok. I guess I will just have to try then, huh?”

She smiled at him again, triumphant. They talked about anything and everything for the next few hours and before they knew it, it was time for the evening’s meal. “Tsireya, are you trying to steal my mate?” Ao’nung’s amused voice cut across the beach and they both looked at him, laughing.

Tsireya put a hand on his shoulder, “so what if I am, tsmukan?” she turned to look at Neteyam, “you would pick me over this skxawng, would you not, Neteyam?”

She batted her eyes at him, mischief evident in her tone and he decided he would play along, “but of course, Tsireya, my love. We can ride off into the sunset together. Come.” He stood, holding his hand out to her and she snorted, laughing so hard tears pooled at the edges of her eyes.

Arms wrapped around his waist and he leaned back into the broad chest behind him, “save the riding into sunsets until after evening meal. . . I am hungry.” Neteyam laughed, turning to kiss Ao’nung soundly.

Tsireya gasped from beside them in mock outrage, “how dare you. You have scorned me!” she moved a hand up to her forehead, crying out in an over-the-top display. Suddenly she stopped, dropping her hand and laughing with them.

They headed off to eat, talking easily amongst themselves.

He had an overwhelming feeling of happiness in Ao’nung’s arms and laughing with Tsireya as they made fun of Ao’nung.

He was just so happy.

---

“Lo’ak!” He jogged to catch up with his brother whose steps sped up, trying to get away from him, “oh no, you will speak to me now!” he pushed faster still, managing to grab Lo’ak’s shoulder. “We need to talk,” he spoke through his teeth, pulling Lo’ak behind him, into the forest so they were not overheard.

“Neteyam. . .”

“No.” Lo’ak did not say anything more, just walked behind him silently as they continued.

They were a good kilometer into the forest when he stopped, letting go of Lo’ak, taking a deep breath, then turning around. “You need to stop.”

“Stop what?” Lo’ak still would not look at him.

He knew damn well what Neteyam was talking about.

“Stop being this. . .” he tried to find the words, “agreeable! You are not acting like yourself!”

“I am not being agreeable, Neteyam. You are imagining it.” His tone was empty. Almost. . . sad.

“Do not lie to me, brother. I know you.” He grabbed the back of Lo’ak’s neck, pulling him closer, “you are not like this. . .” he closed his eyes, calming down.

Yelling was clearly not helping him.

He moved his free hand to Lo’ak’s cheek, forcing him to look into his eyes, “I miss my brother, Lo’ak.”

An emotion he could not make out leaked into Lo’ak’s eyes and he tried to look away, but Neteyam did not let up, “I am right here. . .”

He hissed, “you are not. This. . . this skittish, scared person is not my brother.”

“Neteyam,” there it was. The anxiety filled, scared tone.

It was the first time Lo’ak had said his name in months. . . and it seemed to break the barrier Lo’ak had built.

His eyes glowed bright with warring emotions, one second he looked ready to cry and the next he was filled with rage. “Why? Why did you have to make me face this. . . I tried so hard to bury it. I-I cannot.”

Lo’ak pulled away, pacing. “I cannot deal with this, not now.”

“When Lo’ak, when would you have dealt with it?” he threw his hands up, trying to figure everything out, “it has been months and I cannot deal with this new you anymore. I miss our fights, I miss our competitions. I miss you.”

Lo’ak stopped and they just looked at each other a moment before he looked down again, “I am sorry-“

“Do not be sorry. Just be you.” He stepped closer and Lo’ak, in turn, stepped back, “what is wrong?”

“. . . no. . .”

“Is it because I got hurt? Is that it?” he struck a nerve there.

Lo’ak cringed, his arms crossing over his chest. “It was not your fault Lo’ak.”

“It was!”

“No, it was not.” He hissed again, stepping into Lo’ak’s view, forcing him to listen well to his words, “why in the hell do you think it was your fault?” he fell silent then, not even breathing, “Tell me!”

“Because it was my idea to go back for Spider! If we had not, you would not have. . .”

“I would not have been shot?” Lo’ak looked into his eyes then, his eyes flashing at the words he could not form.

He looked away again, “yeah. . .”

“Lo’ak, you skxawng!”

“Wha-?” Lo’ak’s eyes flashed back to his, this time staying locked.

“Of course we went back for Spider, he is our brother! I may have hesitated, but only because I did not want you in danger!” He took another step forward.

Lo’ak reeled back, retreating again, “I-“

He softened his voice, not chasing him this time.

He would have to come to Neteyam this time, “I am your brother Lo’ak. . . of course I want you to be safe. I am glad you were there though,” Lo’ak looked at him then, curiosity alight in his eyes, he smiled, “if I had gone alone, Spider and I would probably both be dead right now. . .”

A tear fell from Lo’ak’s eye then and he stopped, letting everything sink in.

Lo’ak started moving his weight from foot to foot, restlessly fisting his hands, then letting them loose again.

He opened his arms, helping Lo’ak make the decision and he was launching himself into Neteyam in a second, his façade breaking.

His sobs shook them both and Neteyam stroked his hair saying nothing. “I almost l-lost you, Neteyam.”

“I know.”

“You were not breathing,” he hiccupped, his arms tightening.

“I know.”

His head turned into his neck and his next words were muffled, “I left you to go back to the ship. . . I left you when I thought you had died. What kind of brother does that make me? Leaving my dead brother to go back to the fight that had killed him?”

He cocked his head back, trying to look at Lo’ak, but he just burrowed further into Neteyam’s neck, “you were worried for Kiri and Tuk.”

“That is no excuse.”

“No, it is not.” Lo’ak stopped breathing, “you were not thinking clearly and you did what you thought was best. It may not have been the right thing, but it is what saved dads life.”

He tried to look at Lo’ak again, and this time Lo’ak looked back at him, his eyes a little puffy, “I forgive you.”

He hugged Lo’ak to him again. They did not let go for a long time.

Long enough that his dad actually came looking for them. When he caught his eye though he hoped he did not interrupt them.

They both needed this more than they knew, their father stopped short at the sight of them, Neteyam holding his younger brother as he whimpered into his shoulder.

Just the remnants of his cries, but still not quite ready to let go.

Their father turned and retreated back to the village without a sound and he let out the breath he had been holding.

They stayed like that long after their father left and they were not disturbed again, evidently he had spread the word to those who would have gone looking for them.

He could no longer feel his feet, but he was determined to not be the one to let go.

Lo’ak had been quiet for a while now, his breathing slow and steady again. “Thank you,” his voice was rough and quiet, but the anxiety and fear were gone. . . he sounded content.

Neteyam nodded into his hair, readjusting his hands to hug Lo’ak tighter. He still did not let go though and the sky grew dark.

---

He stopped, searching the treetops for the telltale signs of the Na’vi he was chasing, he had just about given up when he saw the tip of a tail disappear in to the bushes.

Smiling he began running again in the direction it went.

Looking up he saw dark tawny skin weaving in and out of the branches, an arm, then a leg. A foot, and then his face, full of glee.

Neteyam’s favourite pastime was playing chase, if that made any sense at all, the ever vigilant oldest son of the Sully Clan, the one who never truly was a kid, loved to play chase.

Though, he would only allow himself to play with Ao’nung when they were alone. He found that if he invited anyone along with them on these adventures in the woods Neteyam jumped slower and was on high alert the whole time, even if it was Tsireya he brought.

The carefree smile that curved on his lips now was never seen on those days, only a neutral smile or worried frown when someone slipped.

He had stopped inviting the others, just giving them both this one escape from the perpetual responsibilities of their everyday lives.

He laughed gleefully, picking up his pace when Neteyam did, determined not to lose him.

When they made it to the center of the forest Neteyam jumped down in front of Ao’nung, “come! I want to show you something I found last time we were here!”

He let himself be pulled to the base of a very large tree. The base was probably ten times the size of any of the trees around it. “It is beautiful. . .”

“Lets go up!” he swallowed his sigh, there was no way he was going to kill Neteyam’s mood because he was not a good climber.

Slowly, he made his way up the side of the tree, making sure his hands and feet were always in the right spot, ensuring he would not fall and embarrass himself further.

When he finally made it up, Neteyam had found a large branch and was laid out, completely relaxed.

The branch he had chose was about three quarters of the way to the top of the tree, he heard Ao’nung hauling himself up onto the branch, then he laid beside Neteyam, bumping his hip into him, “hey.”

Neteyam smiled at him, curling against him, basking in the tiny rays of light that made it through the thinning branches of the forest.

He loved it when he was this high up, you could almost convince yourself it was any time of day.

In one place, there was light, but in another you could almost think it was night, the bioluminescent plant life alive with  bright colours.

He was rested in the crook of Ao’nung’s neck, happy as he could ever be.

He played with Ao’nung’s fingers, tracing the shape of them, so similar yet different from his own, memorizing every line and dip he already knew intimately.

He was just so happy, nothing could ruin this perfect moment.

“I really thought I had lost you that day. . .” he froze his ministrations at the sound of Ao’nung’s voice. . . except that.

Ao’nung had refused to talk about that day, the day he, they, had been shot.

He had changed the subject every time Neteyam had attempted to bring it up, deflecting. He had just assumed that Ao’nung wanted to forget the day had ever happened.

His fingers started brushing through Neteyam’s braids, breath quickening as his anxiety spiked, “but I forgot you for a moment. . . when I woke up, I was so confused. There was this annoying beeping all around me and I just wanted it to stop. My family came in and then I was so happy, and yet. . . there was a hole in my heart that I could not explain. I did not remember the pain of seeing you. . . dead.”

His head dropped to nuzzle Neteyam’s braids, “but my body did, even if my brain did not.”

He started rubbing slow circles on Ao’nung’s stomach, kissing his chest.

Ao’nung was not done talking, Neteyam could almost see him gathering his thoughts.

Ao’nung’s arms tightened around him, pulling him even closer, “I remembered you, after a few minutes, but when I asked for you they all looked shocked. . . scared even.”

He looked up, trying to find Ao’nung’s gaze, but his eyes were closed. He did not say anything for a moment and his eyes opened, brows furrowed deep.

He looked way too far beyond his years and it broke Neteyam’s heart. “Tsireya had to break the news to me that you had been shot. . . again. And again I had to feel the pain of losing you. That pain in my chest, I finally understood it, and it doubled in strength; the old pain of seeing you dead and this new pain of finding out I had forgotten. . .”

He flipped over, throwing his leg over Ao’nung’s, bringing their chest together, then sliding his hand up to cup Ao’nung’s jaw, still saying nothing, “even though I knew you were still breathing this time, it still hurt. So much.”

Ao’nung pulled him up, bringing their foreheads together, “that is how I got those memories back. Your head in Tsireya’s lap. . . whiter than even our skin. I-I cannot ever see you like that again.”

He spoke then, “Ao’nung. . .” but found he really had no words to say.

“I know, I know. I cannot stop you from ever getting hurt again, and I would never ask you to lay down you weapons. . . you are a warrior at heart. . .” he mirrored Ao’nung, hands cupping both of his cheeks, holding their foreheads tight together, smiling sadly. “I just. . . I do not think I have it in me to ever do that again. . .”

“I know, Ao’nung. . .” he moved a hand down, past Ao’nung’s hips, pulling his forehead away so he could move his hand down to the raised scar on Ao’nung’s shin.

The rough circular scar bisected by a long cut from his surgery, just to the left of his tibia.

The scar that marked Ao’nung’s own brush with death. “I may not have been conscious for it, but I heard Rotxo and my parents talking about what happened to you. . . I almost lost you and I was not even aware of it. . .” he continued to finger the scar, “and I forgot you as well, to top it all off!” he moved to finger the second scar, about a centimeter from the first, longer this time and an even scarier story. “You almost lost your leg and I was awake for that. . .”

“Neteyam. . .”

“We are both a couple of messes, huh?” he smiled at Ao’nung, trying to forget about that day. . .

~~~ the month before ~~~

He blinked his eyes open, something outside startling him, “Ao’nung? Are you awake? Somethings going on outside. . .” he turned over when there was no answer.

Ao’nung’s eyes were still closed, his breathing slow, “Ao’nung?” he pushed in his shoulder, still nothing. “Ao’nung!” he tried not to panic, he could still barely sit up on his own, but somehow he managed it.

Looking over Ao’nung’s unconscious form he noticed how swollen his leg had become, the pink scar from his surgery looked bruised. That cannot be a good thing. . . “shit! Hey! Someone help! Please!”

He yelled until someone poked their head in. He immediately told them to get Ronal, something was wrong with Ao’nung.

Everything had happened so fast after that.

Ronal had come running in, trying to rouse her son to no avail.

Then Norm had come in and they quickly moved Ao’nung out of the pod.

The silence had been deafening after that.

He was restless and could not bring himself to sleep and so he just waited for hours. Waiting for anyone to come in and explain why he could not get Ao’nung to open his eyes.

His dad came in well after dark, “hey, son.”

“Dad!” he tried to sit up, and his dad rushed over to help, “what happened? Where is Ao’nung?”

His dad looked sheepish and his heart dropped, he must have noticed the expression on Neteyam’s face because he backtracked really quickly after that, “no, no, no! He is fine!”

Neteyam let out the breath he had been holding, sinking back to the floor, relief flooding through him, “they think he threw a clot-“ he waved Neteyam’s confused look off, “they fixed him up. He had to go through another surgery though so it will be a couple days before he can walk again. He will be in a cast for a while too. . .”

~~~

It was a hard day to forget. . . it had been a day and a half before Ao’nung had come, literally, tumbling into his pod, fighting off Norm.

He had planted himself beside Neteyam and dared Norm try and move him. . . Norm had thankfully given up.

He smiled when Ao’nung laughed softly, “we have spent the majority of our relationship sitting alongside each other in a recovery pod.”

Ao’nung laughed fully then, holding his stomach, jostling Neteyam until he was lying against him again. He leaned up, kissing Neteyam quickly, his arms sliding around his back again.

He laughed at the absurdity of the situation, “we are both whole and healed now though,”

“That we are, my love.” He leaned up, placing another soft kiss on Neteyam’s lips, “I love you, Neteyam.”

“I love you too, Ao’nung,” he leaned down to kiss him again, longer this time.

“You are my home.”