Chapter Text
In a birthing hut, on the outskirts of the Mangkwan Clan’s village center
The little cries of a baby reached just outside the hut, along with small, tired breaths of a woman.
Varang lay on her back, a small infant resting upon her chest as she had just given birth. To the far side, Quaritch watched with astonishment, ears pinned in shock.
that baby was his
He was made for military— not for playing daddy
“Miles,” Varang’s exhausted voice snapped the man out of his thoughts. Slowly, he inched closer to the small cot, examining the little life upon the woman’s bare chest— a little boy…
His fresh blue striped skin glimmered as his little bioluminescence patterns gently illuminated those said stripes.
“It was destined,” Varang spoke again, uncharacteristically tearing up at the sight of their son, “you’re the Olo’eyktan. Becoming a *sempul* was bound to happen,” she said, pulling the baby closer to her chin.
Quaritch took a closer look at this little life, watching his features. He had his face shape. Maybe even his nose.
“You hold him,” Varang began to sit up, leaning against the hut’s thick wall.
“No… I don’t know how,” Quaritch instinctively took a step back. Sure, as a human, he held baby Spider once or twice— but he was never good at it.
Plus, he was much bigger now. He didn’t want to accidentally hurt the baby.
“It comes naturally,” Varang held the baby out to the father, giving him no choice but to embrace the little guy.
He knelt to the ground, just in case something went wrong. This gave him a better opportunity to look at the baby. Man, he was the most perfect Na’vi he had ever seen… and he never thought he would be saying that.
“Zaylem,” Varang said once more, a small, genuine smile crept across her expression.
“His name? Zaylem?”
“Yes. He’s Zaylem,” she repeated, the look on her face nonnegotiable. Quaritch let out a snort of laughter, shaking his head at his mate’s stubbornness. Whatever floated her boat.
But really, Zaylem was a nice name… and it suited the kid somehow.
Gently, Quaritch planted a small kiss against the boy’s head, causing the little thing to coo in response, his little hands reaching up at his father’s face.
Dammit, what had he done…?
***
By the time 14 years had passed, Quaritch was the father of 2 Na’vi-recombinant children. Along with Zaylem was a little 9-year-old girl, Reym, who was a very cheerful child despite her parents' pasts.
Lyle and Devin had basically become the uncles of these two, completely forgetting that their original purposes were to eliminate Jake Sully and that crazy woman Neytiri. But here they were, messing with the two children as they sat in the course, frizzled and dying grass.
Lyle had an arm wrapped around Reym as she playfully attempted jumping out at her brother, who was conversing with Mansk about something related to 'freedom' and 'beyond the mountains'.
Suddenly, though, a voice came from the village center as Varang stepped from her and Quaritch's hut, eyes searching for the children, "Zaylem! Reym!"
"Mama needs us," Reym backed up from Lyle, playfully tugging on his fingers absently. On the other side, Zaylem was already walking away, leaving Mansk sitting on the ground. Reym was quick to catch up, black hair flowing behind her back.
"Yes, mama?" the little girl hopped into the hut, instantly wrapping her little arms around the taller woman's waist. Then her eyes met with her father's. The man had his typical, old tactical vest wrapped around his chest and sewn marine pants covering his lower half.
"I need you and your brother to watch your father make a hunt," Varang spoke softly, a hand smoothening her daughter's chaotic hair.
"Finally," Zaylem smiled, his figure standing just behind his younger sister.
"You know what happened last time, Zaylem. Do it again, and you stay here for 6 more months," Quaritch growled, staring his son down like a hawk.
"I didn't do anything dangerous, Dad, geez," the boy rolled his eyes and crossed his arms in defiance. Varang was quick to lightly shove her palm into her son's head, causing him to recoil in pain, hand instinctively patting against his short hair.
"You speak to your father with respect, Zaylem!" she snarled. All the kid did after that was look down, ears pinned against the sides of his head.
"You almost got yourself killed last time, Zaylem. You need to stop being so reckless and start listening to me," the father said, standing up, huffing out an annoyed sigh.
"Yes. Sir." Zaylem turned away and exited the hut. Quaritch didn't go after him-- instead, he focused his attention on his young daughter and kneeled before her, resting a loving hand on her shoulder, "Stay close to me, yeah?"
"Yes, Daddy," she smiled, tilting her head to where her cheek was now rubbing against her father's knuckles. With that, he stood and exited, letting the girl follow.
***
"Why do you even wear that stuff?" Zaylem asked, rolling his eyes at the question. Then he pointed to his loincloth, "Why not just wear this? You look odd with that stuff."
"I do it because I like it, son," the man shook his head, ears pinwheeling around at different sounds. Right behind was Reym, her hand clutching her father's said pants.
"I wanna know your past-- but you never tell us. Even Uncle Lyle and Devin don't tell us. Why can't I know?" The boy jumped upon a fallen log, eyes following his passing father. Quaritch didn't respond to the statement. All he did was reposition his bow in his hand, palm rubbing against the wooden surface.
"Daddy, what was your past like?" Reym asked, cranking her neck to see the focused man.
"It's none of your guy's concern," Quaritch kneeled behind a bush, body language instructing the kids to follow. Zaylem was soon right next to his father, head slightly leaning into his shoulder.
"Then why do we have 4 fingers and Mom only has 3? Someone in the clan told us that it's because you're a sky person..."
"I'm not a sky person, Zaylem. Focus, dammit." Quaritch huffed, leaning into the bush to make himself appear less visible. Upon a medium-sized creature walking into sight, Quaritch drew back his bow, golden yellow eyes locked onto the animal, "Look, kids. Right there's the money..."
Moments later, his fingers loosened off the bow's strings, and the flying arrow plunged into the animal's side. It struggled for seconds before going limp in the wasteland.
"Whoa, Daddy!" Reym laughed, running out to see the animal closer. Quaritch was right behind, tail flicking as his eyes scanned the clean kill. Zaylem remained back, bored out of his mind. Suddenly, an idea popped into his head.
Both Quaritch and Reym's backs were turned, so this gave the boy an opportunity to escape. Slowly, he stepped over roots and dying leaves, inching towards the cliff edge that was feet away. During the night, the boy would often ask Quaritch to take him out here to see the bright river that lay below, but since they were hunting now, it was obvious that he wasn't allowed to do as such.
But did that stop him? No. He did it anyway. Slowly getting closer, the kid looked over the drop-off and peered at the river below. To be honest, though, the river wasn't what Zaylem was focused on. It was the other side of the cliff-- where the mountains resumed and rolled over. Because he had seen it before upon riding his Banshee-- there were forests. And for Zaylem, the forest was his dream. So if he could just find a way to the other side of the massive opening and climb those mountains, he would be free to explore the trees.
"Zaylem! Get your ass over here now!" his father's voice cut through the boy's thoughts, causing him to almost stumble off the edge. Quaritch was there in seconds to steady him against the ground, a look of anger plastered across his face.
"I wasn't doing anything," Zaylem tried to play it cool, ignoring the snarky look that Reym was giving off.
"Get back to camp. I'm done taking you on hunts."
"What?! Dad, you can't do that!" the boy cried out, shock and fury now present in his features.
"Yeah, he can! He's Daddy!" The sassy little girl put her hands upon her hips before extending her tongue in her brother's direction.
"I will throw you off--" Zaylem grabbed her by the arm and half-heartedly pretended to shove her off the edge. She yelped before the stronger hands of her father tugged her back, his voice booming, "BACK TO CAMP!"
Zaylem stopped back-talking and stomped past his father, growling curse words under his breath. The man watched for moments as his son disappeared into the brush. Then he undid the grip around his daughter's arm and let her follow.
Slowly, Quaritch glanced up at the sky and spotted an unusually bright dot. It was daylight, so it definitely confused the recom, but he began walking anyways, large feet carrying him across the deserted wasteland with the dead animal slug across his shoulders.