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It started with flowers. Not just one or two, but a small, growing pile of them. Each time you turned around, there’d be another tucked behind your ear, balanced on your hammock, woven into a little bracelet left near your food.
Neteyam had been relentless in his attempts to win back your affection over the past few days. It wasn't as though you didn't love him because you did, with every fiber of your being. But you were still upset about the argument you'd had earlier in the week. The argument arose from the widening distance between you, a gap carved by the relentless demands of his role as the future Oloeyktan. You nodded as he explained, telling him you understood-because you truly did. Every decision he made was for the good of the clan, for a future that included you, too. But understanding didn't soften the ache in your chest. It didn't quiet the longing for the moments that used to be yours alone.
You didn't want to seem selfish, didn't want to feel like a burden, like someone relegated to the edges of his life. But how could you not yearn for him when he was the very heart of your own?
You didn't need grand gestures or impossible promised, just to feel like you mattered, like the bond you shared wasn't something easily pushed aside. It wasn't too much to hope for, was it? If it was, he shouldn't have assured you that time would always find a way to make room for the two of you.
He shouldn't have told you he could love you without limits.
Still, you weren't angry, just quietly hurt. So, you let him sit with the weight of your silence for a little while longer, unsure if he truly understood how deeply you longed for his presence. If he cared, he would be honest. He would decide whether he could meet you where you stood or not.
And Neteyam, true to form, was determined to make the effort.
At communal dinner, he hovered like a shadow, his golden eyes constantly flicking toward you. You pretended not to notice, focusing instead on your food, the stars overhead, and occasionally the random crack in the floor. Anywhere but his face.
Neteyam, however, was not easily giving in. With a deep breath, he reached over, gently prying your hands apart from where they were clasped in your lap. His large, warm palms enveloped yours, his thumbs brushing softly against your skin. You stiffened but didn't pull away, refusing to give him the satisfaction of melting under his touch.
"Yawne (beloved)," he whispered, voice low enough that only you could hear over the chatter of the gathering. His brows knit together in concern. "Are you still upset? I'm sorry, okay? I'll make it right. Just give me time for a few weeks."
But your only response was a soft huff as you turned your attention to your plate. His ears drooped slightly, and his shoulders sagged, but he didn't give up.
Neteyam had taken to foraging during his hunting trips, returning with blooms in every color he could find. Each one seemed chosen with care, as if he had combed through Pandora's vast forest just to find the perfect match for you. This morning, you found a particularly delicate one—a deep blue petal with flecks of gold, so soft it felt like velvet-waiting for you beside your water. Its placement wasn't accidental; he'd laid it carefully, as though it were a gift meant to soothe whatever rift had come between you.
"Do you like it?" His voice, deep and warm, came from behind you, startling you slightly.
You turned, fingers curling instinctively around the flower. He was leaning casually against a tree, his bow slung over his shoulder and his skin dappled in the soft morning light. He looked relaxed, but his twitching ears and the slight shift in his tail gave him away.
You rolled the flower between your fingers, trying not to let your heart leap at the sight of him. "It's pretty." Your voice was nonchalant, almost dismissive, but your gaze lingered on him for a moment too long.
He smiled, slow and knowing, but didn't press further. Instead, he stepped closer, his shadow falling over you. "Pretty, huh?" he murmured, his tone teasing but soft.
"Just pretty? I thought it was beautiful. Like you."
You scoffed lightly, a weak attempt to mask the heat rising in your cheeks. "Is that what you're doing now? Comparing me to flowers?"
Neteyam tilted his head, a playful glint in his golden eyes. "Only the rarest ones." His voice dropped just slightly, and the way he looked at you made your stomach flip.
You tried to turn your attention back to the flower, but his presence was impossible to ignore. He crouched in front of you, his movements unhurried and fluid, and his hand reached out to tilt your chin up gently.
"You know," he said, his voice softer now, "I don't just bring these to make you smile.
I bring them because I want you to know I think of you. Always. Even when I'm away."
For once, you didn't have a clever reply. And he smiled, small and boyish, as if your mere attention was like handing him all the stars in the sky. "You don't have to say anything," he whispered. "I already know."
That night, during the clan's celebration, you spotted him at the edge of the gathering. The music swelled, and instead of joining the other warriors in the dance, Neteyam was there, balancing precariously on a low branch. His arms flailed dramatically, as though he were imitating a bird taking flight.
You cocked an eyebrow and took a few slow steps toward him. "Is this what future
Olo'eyktan training looks like? Because if it is, we're doomed."
He turned sharply at the sound of your voice, pretending to wobble before hopping down with an exaggerated flourish, landing directly in front of you. His grin was wide and unapologetic.
"I'm trying to make you laugh," he admitted shamelessly, his amber eyes bright.
"I've missed your laugh, yawne."
You tried to hold firm, but when he clumsily twirled and struck a ridiculous pose, your laughter broke free. He straightened, a little victorious puff to his chest.
"There it is," he teased gently, his chest still puffed out with mock pride. "I knew it was still in there."
Your resolve cracked, but you still rolled your eyes for good measure. "You're impossible."
"And you're worth it," he said without hesitation, so sincere and immediate that it caught you off guard. He extended his hand toward you, palm up to offer you a dance but he didn't push. He just waited, his presence steady and patient.
"I'm still mad at you, you know," you muttered, more for yourself than for him. You didn't move, but your fingers tightened slightly around your forearms.
"I know," he said gently, his voice low enough that only you could hear it over the celebration. "And I'll keep earning back every bit of you until you're not."
For a moment, you hesitated, your heart warring with your pride. Slowly, your arms loosened, and though you didn't take his hand, you let it rest there between you, a quiet truce in the making.
"Said you'd earn it back, huh? The teasing tone in your voice had a sharp edge, and you couldn't help the way it made his eyes sparkle with mischief. He tilted his head, a playful glint in his gaze, as if trying to predict your next move. "Then prove it."
Without another word, you turned on your heel and dashed into the back of the forest, heart pounding with the rush of adrenaline. The sounds of the celebration faded behind you, replaced by the rustling of leaves beneath your feet. You couldn't suppress the laugh that bubbled up from your chest as you glanced back over your shoulder. "Catch me if you can!"
His reaction was instant, his own laugh ringing out through the air as his long legs carried him quickly in pursuit. Neteyam's voice came, warm with determination, but
also with a clear, boyish excitement. "Oh, you know I will."
You risked another glance behind you and saw him gaining, the playful smirk on his lips matching the wild spark in his eyes like a predator closing in on its prey. The challenge, the thrill. It was all there in his gaze.
You'd darted across the massive branch that spanned the glowing, bioluminescent river below. Your heart raced as you pushed yourself faster, the wind rushing past your ears, but it only made the sounds of your laughter spill out even louder.
It felt like freedom, like nothing in the world could touch you in this moment.
But just as you rounded a turn on the massive branch, his speed bested yours.
Toned arms circled around your slim waist, pulling you back against him with such effortless power that it knocked the breath from your lungs. You gasped, his chest firm against your back, his body radiating warmth in the cool, humid air.
The glowing river far below shimmered with blues and greens, but the only thing you could focus on was him. Neteyam's breath tickled your ear, unsteady from the chase but layered with soft, husky laughter that sent shivers racing down your spine.
"You're not getting from me away that easily, yawne." he murmured, his voice triumphant, teasing, as his arms held you close. His arms tightened around you, pulling you even closer, and you swore you could feel every inch of him pressing against you. His heat, his scent, the way his hands seemed to burn through your skin.
Neteyam's breath brushed over your ear, warm and unstead, sending a hum of heat through your veins as the hairs on the back of your neck rose. You fought to steady yourself, but it was impossible. Your knees felt weak as a warmth blossomed in the pit of your stomach. It wasn't just from the chase anymore. It was from the way he held you, so firmly, with the way his lips lingered so close to the curve of your neck so teasingly that left you dizzy in his hold. He chuckled once again as if hinting at the promise of laughter and surprises yet to come.
Before you could retort, before you could even think, he moved; both of you toppling sideways off the branch. You barely had time to gasp as he leapt, carrying you with him into the air. The drop lasted only seconds before you plunged into the river below, the cool water swallowing you both in a burst of bubbles and bioluminescent light.
You surfaced with a gasp, your laughter echoing across the glowing expanse as you pushed the wet strands of hair from your face. "Neteyam!" you exclaimed, half scolding, half incredulous.
He emerged just beside you, grinning like a mischievous child, his braids dripping water and his golden eyes sparkling. "You looked like you needed to cool off," he teased, his voice thick with playful arrogance.
Well, you did need to cool off the hotness in your core... but this wasn't exactly what you had in mind.
Without hesitation, you launched a spray of cool water at him, the droplets shimmering with the river's glow as they scattered in radiant arcs. His reaction was instant; a burst of deep, joyful laughter that echoed through the humid air, rich and unrestrained. The playful challenge sparked an electric excitement between you, drawing you both into a frenzy of splashing and dodging. The world then began to blur into the glowing water and your shared laughter, a symphony of carefree chaos where nothing else mattered but this moment.
You couldn't remember the last time you felt this alive, this carefree.
Eventually, your laughter guys laughter faded into breathless quiet. His eyes found yours, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to still. He moved closer, his face only inches from yours now, his wet skin glistening faintly in the river's glow.
You let out a little laugh, your fingers finding it's way on his chest, not sure whether to pull away or pull him closer. "You're insufferable, you know that?"
"I'm yours," he corrected, his voice low and serious for just a moment as he stared deeply into your eyes, drowning in them as if they were the river instead. "And I'm never letting you go."
Soon enough, Neteyam's once-constant efforts seemed to slip away, fading into nothing more than fleeting memories. His presence, once a constant source of warmth, began to diminish with every passing day. The flowers he had once brought you-each one an offering of love and hope-became fewer and fewer, as if the color was draining from both the blooms and the moments you shared.
Once again, you understood and didn't blame him, or at least told yourself. After all, your own responsibilities as a healer had grown burdensome, the increasing frequency of skirmishes and the unrelenting demand for resources leaving you with little time for anything else. Your days blurred into a haze of tending wounds and gathering herbs, each task an anchor that dragged you further from the quiet joys you once had even with yourself.
The strain of hunting weighed heavily on Neteyam too. Gone were the days when he would wander through Pandora's vibrant forest, carefully selecting the most beautiful flowers to weave into thoughtful bouquets. Now, even the act of picking a single bloom seemed beyond his reach, a bittersweet reminder of the tenderness that had once come so effortlessly.
The communal dinners you had once savored together became strained, short-lived affairs. He would excuse himself early, his duties as the future Olo'eyktan demanding his attention, dragging him away before the last bite of food could even be tasted. He needed rest, they said, to prepare for the challenges ahead. And though you understood, the weight of his absence pressed heavier on your chest with every night he left, his absence a constant ache. The time you once had-those stolen moments of laughter, of closeness, of being seen-became rare, almost
impossible to hold onto. The spaces between you grew longer, the silences more deafening.
You began to wonder if this was just how it had to be now. If love, no matter how deep, could survive when it was stretched thin by duty and distance. But fear began to creep in, insidious and unwelcome. It was twofold: the fear of losing Neteyam to the weight of his future, and the fear of losing yourself entirely to the relentless tide of duty.
It seemed that love or leisure took a backseat and only the ceaseless demands of survival drove up-front. Maybe, maybe, everything was silently nearing the end of you and him.
You missed him, so very much. But a part of you couldn't bring yourself to let go of your pride or admit just how much you missed him. Perhaps you thought you were being unreasonable, that it shouldn't hurt this much when he wasn't around. So you turned away from him, convincing yourself that this distance was dignified, that it was better to seem indifferent than desperate.
Yet deep down, the fear gnawed at you. You were terrified of being too much, of clinging too tightly to the man destined to lead and maybe eventually leave you like he always did. Either due to the familiar duties or worse, death. If you moved closer, if you let yourself reach for him, you feared you wouldn't be able to let go. And worse, you feared the day would come when you'd find yourself begging, pleading for him not to leave, not to hurt you ever again, and that would shatter you in a way you weren't sure you could survive.
You awoke one day after he finally joined you in your hammock for the first time in many nights, and as expected, the warmth of his body pressed against yours was gone, leaving only the faintest memory, as fragile as dew kissed by the morning sun.
Could it have been just a dream? The thought clawed at you. You hoped not, but the possibility felt plausible. After all, exhaustion had blurred the lines between reality and fantasy. Perhaps your sleep-deprived mind had conjured it all: the weight of his
arms around you, the gentle press of his lips, the whispered words.
But just as the doubt began to settle, a soft rustle pulled your thoughts back to the present. The sound grew louder, and you turned your head to see the heart of the matter approaching your hammock once again. Neteyam.
The warrior, as if returning from a long combat, emerged from the soft morning light, his smile radiant and disarming, as if the very sight of you was the highlight of his day. In his hands, he held a woven pouch, bursting with herbs and dried flowers, their scents already filling the air between you.
"For your hammock," he said, his voice warm and full of affection. He knelt in front of you, holding it out with both hands like an offering. "So that it smells like the forest... and not, you know." His grin widened, boyish and unguarded, as if he couldn't help but tease you just a little.
You blinked at him, surprised. "Did you... make this?"
"Of course," he said proudly, a light laugh escaping his lips. "Well, okay, I asked Grandmother for help. But I picked the flowers myself. Only the best ones, paskalin (sweet berry)."
You brought the pouch to your nose, inhaling deeply. The scent was a perfect blend of calming herbs, delicate flowers, and something distinctly him-earthy, grounding, and utterly familiar.
"Thank you," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. For once, you didn't try to hide the smile tugging at your lips. "But it's so early. How'd you find the time?"
Neteyam's eyes softened as he looked at you, and he reached out, brushing his fingers gently against yours. "Yawne," he began, his voice steady and full of conviction, "I will always find time for you. Even when I'm busy, even when it feels like the world is pulling us in every direction, you are the first thing on my mind. And I pray you never have to wait so long for me again."
Before you could respond, he leaned closer, his smile deepening. "It's always going to be me at the end of the line, no matter what. Remember that for me, please?"
And as if he knew what you had been thinking, his words hit you like a wave, sweeping away most of your doubt like it always did. Before it inevitably crept back in, of course. Yet something entirely else stirred within you as Neteyam leaned in closer. His proximity was disarming, his golden eyes holding you unexpectedly captive. His scent, warm and woodsy, wrapped around you like a second skin, and the sight of him this close-lips parted slightly, his sharp jawline catching the soft morning light-sent a shiver down your spine.
You nodded slowly, but it was more out of reflex than control. Your hands tightened around the woven pouch, clutching it as though it could tether you to reality, though your mind was already spinning. Your breath hitched, heart thundering in your chest as you couldn't ignore how weak you felt under his gaze, knees threatening to buckle even though you were sitting.
He tilted his head, studying you with a faint smile tugging at his lips, so achingly handsome that it sent heat rushing through your cheeks.
"Yawne," he murmured softly, his voice like a caress, "Are you alright?"
Your throat felt dry, and you cursed your inability to speak. You could feel the burn low in your core, an ache you didn't know how to soothe, and you prayed he didn't notice the flush creeping up your neck. But the way his eyes flickered over you-intently, as though he could read every thought you didn't dare say aloud-made you wonder if he already knew.
"I, uh... I'm fine," you managed to whisper, though your voice wavered, betraying you. But you summoned a smile for his grace, despite it all, "Thank you, Ma' Teyam.
For this, for everything."
"Always welcome." His smile grew, softer now, but laced with that teasing edge he reserved just for you. "Are you sure you're alright?" His tone was light, but his hand
reached out, fingers brushing against the side of your hip down to your thigh. The simple contact made you feel as though your whole body was alight. It was maddening how much power he held over you, how even a fleeting touch could leave you unraveling. You wanted to look away, to collect yourself, but the way he was looking at you-with that intoxicating mix of love and desire-had you rooted to the spot.
"Because," he added, leaning in just enough for his breath to ghost across your lips,
"you look like you're about to fall apart. And, paskalin, I'm not sure if I should hold you... or let you crumble, just so I can pick up every piece."
His words sent your mind spinning, and you realized then that you weren't sure whether you wanted to push him away or pull him closer. All you knew was that the heat of him, the weight of his gaze, was utterly consuming, and despite yourself, you wanted to burn.
He knew exactly what he was doing.
Instantly, you demanded, "Pick me up. Bring me to your tent."
There was no hesitation, no need for clarification. He knew exactly what you were asking, and it sent a flicker of something dangerous and thrilling through his golden eyes. His lips curved into a knowing smile, one that made your stomach flutter and your breath catch in your throat.
Without a word, Neteyam scooped you up effortlessly, his hands firm against your thighs as you wrapped your arms around his neck. The ease with which he held you made you feel small and completely at his mercy, and it only heightened the ache that had been building inside you for far too long.
"Missed me that much, huh?" he murmured, his voice a low, velvety tease as his forehead brushed against yours. The warmth of his breath danced across your skin, igniting every nerve as you struggled to keep your composure. "Almost thought you'd never ask..."
Your fingers threaded into his braids, pulling him just a little closer, your lips barely a breath apart. "Don't make me regret this, 'Teyam," you whispered, though the tremor in your voice betrayed the longing you'd been trying to keep hidden.
"Regret?" He chuckled, a sound so rich and full it made your head spin. "Yawne, you're about to remember why you never could."
He carried you swiftly, his steps purposeful as the tension between you crackled like the air before a storm. Every glance he stole, every squeeze of his hands against you, eventually ended with a peck on your lips. And by the time he reached his tent, Neteyam set you down carefully, his eyes burning into yours with an intensity that stole your breath.
His thumb brushed along your cheek, his voice dropping to a whisper that sent chills down your spine. "Loving me might be dangerous, syulang (flower)," he said, his lips ghosting against yours, "but you're the bravest thing I've ever known."
And in that instant, you knew. You were going to fall for the risk of wanting him as long as you wake, no matter how perilous the drop.