Chapter Text
They were young when they first bonded.
Young and utterly stupid.
And very drunk off stolen liquor.
It was just after the final battle, blood still caked Neteyam’s skin, their stolen alcohol tracking down both their lips, but none of it mattered.
They had ran off into the untouched valley alone, nothing about it was ‘traditional’ in either of their clans, but what mattered is that they were alive.
Neteyam had run the moment he saw the treeline, leaving Ao’nung to follow his trail. He was no good at climbing, Neteyam pulled him half over a fallen tree, Ao’nung clinging to his shoulder for dear life, glad he was never born into a forest.
Hands trailed down each other, every front was new to the pair. War paint smudged with the blood of enemies, Neteyam’s shoulder wrapped with a bandage earned from his reckless rage and a man with a gun.
They were bruised and covered in blood and smudged war paints.
But they were each other’s.
Oh, how Neteyam could still remember the shriek his mother let out when he told her, not that she hadn’t figured it out when she found them and the face of pure exhaustion on his father’s.
And the lack of surprise from his siblings.
From what Ao’nung had said his parents matched their reactions.
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Now, almost a decade he’s aged on the island, he couldn’t help but sit against the sand like he used to in the early days of the Sully’s moving here.
Neteyam watched from the shadow of the rocks, watching as his daughter ran through the sands that made up most of Awa’atlu, he laughed quietly to himself, knowing that he would’ve done the very same if he had grown up with so much sand.
“Aìrua! Do not try to climb that, you will fall!” Neteyam yells without looking up, he knew what quiet meant. It meant she was either in something or on something Neteyam had told her to stay clear of.
With a whine and her head tossed back she stomped up to him, wordlessly, Neteyam handed her a cut piece of a yovo fruit. She snatches it, sitting in the sand next to him, her head against his hip the same way she’s seen her papa lay against him.
“Where’s Uncle Lo’ak..?”
“Hunting beyond the reef,”
He moved to brush her dark waves of hair from her face, he really did wish she let him braid it. But her hair matched his own, and that was never an enjoyable process from himself, so he held his tongue.
“Where’s papa?”
“The dens, I believe,”
Aìrua stood up, hands still full with her snack of fruit, yet she shifted her hold on them to yank her father up.
“And where are you taking me, child?”
“To papa!”
Neteyam smiled with a roll of his eyes, yet followed his daughter through the village. Every step reminded him of the years spent rebuilding the home around them, the births, the deaths that had come with everything.
Aìrua was a fountain of questions when the final battle was mentioned, she wanted to know every scar that traced the village, every small detail from the tulkun to the ikrans. Mostly, she wanted the stories of Tourk Makto, her grandfather Jake, and he loved to tell her everything about Toruk.
How Neteyam wished his father would shut up anytime his own part of the attack rolled into conversation.
“He was a monster! Ripped through the flesh and bone of the RDA with only an arrow!”
Most of what Jake told her was fictionalized, but it was always fun to correct him.
“I had my bow,”
“Then why did you drag some guy into the water?”
“That was K’tara.”
“Yeah, sure it was.”
Of which, Neteyam only shrugged.
What he truly wished from his father was that the damned mount of his hadn’t gotten so wounded.
Toruk had taken over one of the high caves after the battle, settling himself nicely to the sea-side life with his battle wounds.
The bastard learned to steal too.
Most of his meals were Akula that got too close to the hunting parties or the reeflines. He helped in some ways, always keeping an eye out for any and everything that could attack.
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“Ma’nung.. Your child has dragged me to see you.” Neteyam brushed past the vined doorway, letting Aìrua run in before him.
Ao’nung grabbed his husband by the side, kissing his head. “You act like it’s a pain to visit your mate, Ma’Teyam,”
“Maybe it is,” He made no attempt to dodge the affection given, tail flicking as he looked around the den, nodding to Ronal as she makes her way from one of the other dens. “Hello, Tsahìk,”
“You know better, boy,”
Neteyam rolls his eyes playfully, “Apologizes, Ronal, where is Tsireya?”
“She’s hiding in the back few rooms.. Are you injured?” Ronal eyes Neteyam up and down, drifting from the scar plunged against his chest and the bullet wound on his shoulder from the battle of the Cove of Ancestors.
“No, no. Just wanted to say hello well I’m here, and to ask you a question…?” With Neteyam’s words, a fleek smile ran across Ao’nung’s face.
Ronal only offered a raised eyebrow in question.
“Do you mind watching Aìrua for the night tonight? We-... we need a night.. Alone. Without a child trying to bite us.” Neteyam said with a flick of his tail, looking over to the terror of his daughter who was currently trying to peer into one of the many pots that surrounded the corners of the den.
With a heavy smile, Ronal nodded, “I will take her, I am sure you two need a night of rest without sharing a bed with your child.”
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Ao’nung shifted the weight of a sleeping Aìrua against his chest as they walked to his parent’s mauri, “What are we going to do alone?”
Neteyam didn’t respond for a long while, letting out a heavy breath before “I need to ask you about something when we get back.. Something important.”
With a worried glance, they walked along the woven pathways up to the beaded doorway, “We’re here,” He announced, pushing the bubbling anxiety that crept into his core.
Tonowari pushed Pril aside as she walked to the doorway, his arms raised to take Aìrua from his son, Pril returned the shove with a strong glare that painfully mimics Ronal.
“Ah! My granddaughter!” He smiles, taking the sleeping girl from Ao’nung with an easy pull, “You will be back in the morning?”
“Of course we will, now don’t give her anything too sweet after eclipse and she should be in bed soon if she doesn’t wake-..” Neteyam started his worried rambling over his sleeping daughter, brushing a loose curl from her face as Tonowari nodded along like he’d follow any sort of rules set for him and his first granddaughter.
“Of course! Of course!” He waved a hand, walking back into the mauri and leaving the two standing there against the woven walk, unsure of what to do with themselves now.
A drawn out sigh pulls from Neteyam’s lips as he turns to leave, tail swaying every which way behind him as his husband follows his steps.
“Ma’Yawnetu?” Ao’nung leans his head over, trying to keep pace well walking to their mauri, yet his attempts at conversation don’t go unnoticed, they do unanswered until Neteyam is once more sitting cross legged on the flooring of their house.
“Going to answer me now?” He cocked his head to the side, arms playfully crossed before moving to pull the thin twisted roping that held his bun in place, letting loose curls fall down his back in the same messy ways his daughters did.
“Sit.” The short command from Neteyam felt much more like a plea, like whatever came next he was one not happy with it.
And yet, Ao’nung sat in front of his husband, a worried expression taking hold of him.
“There has been word from the Kinglor forests that–” Neteyam tries to start but his voice is quickly taken over by Ao’nung’s.
“Yes, the new clan? Something like that… What does that have to do with anything?”
Neteyam pulls a strangled sound from his throat, never pleased to be interrupted. “The Trr’ong clan and the Sarentu clan had a birth last spring. They are welcoming the children into the clans this season.. Ao’nung, those are two clans that have almost been completely whipped out… This is the first time either of them can do this,” His last few words come out far more breathless than meant, a quiet moment of hopefulness that his husband would understand the importance.
Realization flickers into his eyes, “You want to go to the Kinglor? Neteyam that is far beyond a week of flying out and back.”
“I wanted you to come with me.” He hissed past Ao’nung’s voice over him, “Many clans are going to show support, I suggest we show ours.”
“For the love of Eywa, Neteyam. You do not expect me to leave my clan for a week, do you?” He stands, leaving Neteyam sitting with his legs tucked under him. Running a hand through long black hair, he starts again.
“What about Aìrua? What about our daughter, Neteyam? What about our people?” His voice raises in tense concern, knowing his husband, there's no doubt he’s already set on going.
“These are the first children to be born into their clans! This is important!” Neteyam stood, tail quietly lashing behind him in quick flicks that made the beaded wrap around it shift and jitter.
“The Sarentu were very close to the Omatikaya,many clans are coming from far further than us!”
Ao’nung cursed to himself once more, fingers rubbing against his temple as a headache pulls at the bay.
“My parents can watch over Aìrua. Your father can watch over the clan. It is only a week, Ao’nung. But I am leaving in six days.” His tone was calm, carefully planned out like this conversation had already happened to him many times over.
His mind was made, the trip already planned out, and his parents already made aware. A stupid choice, yes, but Neteyam knew at least he would be going to see the Sarentu and the Trr’ong.
Well, him, and of course, Lo’ak.