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1.
As was always the case when Norm visited Pandora, the children flocked around him and the other human scientists, wanting to see more of the strange, foreign creatures and their stranger technology. Jake's own children were no exception.
Thankfully, the humans weren't intimidated by the Na'vi children who, despite being literal children, were as tall as-- if not, taller-- than them. Norm especially adored the little ones, preferring to come in his Avatar body so he could let them climb on his shoulders and playfully toss them around.
Jake watched as Lo'ak and his toddler daughter played 'catch the tail' with Norm's tail. The man indulged them happily, grabbing both of them under his arms and laughing as they squealed. Kiri was visiting her biological mother again, a friend Jake and Neytiri missed dearly.
"They've been dormant so far but we'll stay ready regardless," one of the scientists spoke, turning a gun in her hands.
Jake gave them his attention again, looking away from his children. He picked up one of the guns, feeling it out in his hands. It wasn't too heavy. He didn't see himself using it any time soon in the future but it was still smart to stay prepared. Being a Na'vi didn't take away from his experience being a human and marine for the first twenty years of his life. He knew how they thought, how they functioned. And they wouldn't show the same mercy his people would've.
Didn't. They didn't show the same mercy.
He closed his eyes, putting the gun down. Neytiri's sorrowful cries for her father-- her home-- it was a gut-wrenching sound he would never forget. It was his fault. All his-
"Wow!"
Jake opened his tired eyes, ears twitching at the excited little noise coming from his right. He didn't even have to look to know that it was Neteyam who'd made the sound. He knew his children better than he knew himself— knew what every little sniffle, blink, and twitch meant. Could distinguish between Lo'ak's hungry pout and about-to-cry pout, Kiri's happy weaving and angry weaving, Tuk's excited nose scrunch and frustrated nose scrunch— Neteyam was no exception, naturally.
He looked away from the table of human weapons, cold and poisonous, to find his first child. It wasn't hard to locate him, standing all alone— a deep, dark blue contrasting against lifeless human colours and materials.
One of the Resistance pilots were sat on a couch in the lounge area, blowing bubbles from an object Jake hadn't seen since he was a young boy himself. The half-asleep pilot's only audience was Neteyam, who happily hopped up and down to catch the bubbles.
Jake could feel his heart squeezing in his chest as he watched the adorable scene. His precious little boy was always so soft and gentle, so unlike Jake and even Neytiri. He was a good boy, always taking care of his siblings and making sure everyone got along. His little boy, so brave and mighty; so meek and kind.
The one who made him a father.
There was a wide-eyed gaze of amazement and wonder in Neteyam's big eyes, big like his mother's, as he tried to catch the bubbles. Jake couldn't help his soft chuckle at the disgruntled little blink and nose scrunch Neteyam would do whenever the bubbles popped on his fingers.
A sweet beaming smile framed his chubby little face, bunny teeth on display. He squeaked happily every time the pilot blew more bubbles, perfectly content to play on his own.
And in that moment, Jake couldn't help being reminded of his mate. When they'd first met, she was all adorable and feisty— scary, yes, but in a way he couldn't help being mesmerized by. He remembered her pretty face lighting up as the atokirina floated around them in the forest. Her awed giggles as she'd hopped and tried to catch one was a precious sound he held near.
Neteyam looked exactly like her, standing barely ten feet away from him, and Jake somehow felt like he was falling in love all over again.
2.
Jake was pretty sure his heart legally stopped beating for a good three seconds as the cries of one of his children suddenly entered his ears. Except it wasn't a normal cry; reserved for fights with siblings or anger at nap time. It was a deep, wounded wail that didn't even come from nearby their family marui, where the kids were supposed to be. It came from farther away.
Jake was on his feet and running towards the noise before he could even stop to think. He wondered if Neytiri had heard it too, but she was with her mother and Tuk.
The cries guided him as he sprinted across the plush forest ground, jumping over branch after branch. He found himself at the small river where he would teach Neteyam how to catch fish now that he was old enough to wield a bow and arrow. That was how he knew before even seeing him that it was his oldest child crying.
And fuck, if that didn't bring his worry up about twenty notches.
Neteyam rarely cried or threw tantrums, or just even generally caused fusses. He was their best tempered child, from birth to now. Honestly, Jake was unsure who he got his calmness from because it sure as hell wasn't from him or Neytiri.
He skidded to a stop in front of his boy so abruptly that he almost tripped over himself and face-planted on the grass.
"What is it? What's wrong, baby? What's wrong?" he asked urgently, breathing heavily and turning his little boy every which way as he scanned for injuries.
He physically cringed as Neteyam let out another deep, sorrowful wail— his tiny body shaking from the force of it. But his son didn't look harmed. In fact, he looked as perfect as he always did. So what—
"Daddy!" his little boy sobbed, trying to push off Jake's hands from his arms and point at something.
Jake relented but moved them down to hold Neteyam's tiny hands in his. "What is it, baby? Tell Daddy what's wrong," he begged, heart at his feet. He'd never seen his son act like this.
"Tuwa!" Neteyam cried, face scrunched up in misery.
"Tuwa?" Jake repeated cluelessly.
"Tuwa!" his little one sobbed again, guttural and loud.
That was when Jake noticed the small dead animal lying next to Neteyam's feet with a deep slash across its stomach. Oh.
Oh, fuck.
"I trusted you!" his baby sobbed, pushing Jake away weakly.
"I trusted you!" Neytiri wailed angrily, heartbroken. She shoved him, turning away his comfort.
Jake felt like he couldn't breathe.
"Hey, hey," he tried to soothe his distressed son, half on the verge of breaking down himself. Fuck, how could he be so stupid?
A few weeks ago, Neteyam had found a baby hexapede without a mother around and had fun playing with it for a few hours. But when it was time to go back home for bed, he'd begged Jake to keep it. He'd promised he'd take good care of it and feed it, and clean it— the whole works. Jake didn't let him though because he knew they couldn't just take an animal from its environment. Especially not to bring it back to their marui where it would just be extra stress for him and his wife.
So, as a compromise, Jake promised Neteyam he could come visit it everyday. He swore to him, after many endless worried questions about how the cub will take care of itself, that the hexapede would be safe.
But now, it looked like a predator killed it. Jake couldn't keep the one promise he'd made to his son who never asked anything of him, unlike his siblings.
For Neteyam to see an animal he held so dear to his heart laying dead at his feet...
Fuck, Jake messed up.
"...I'm sorry, baby boy," he murmured regretfully, trying to pull his little boy into his arms.
"No!" Neteyam cried, folding into himself and staring at Jake with hurt, wet eyes. He looked so much like his mother at that moment. She'd worn the same face of betrayal all those years ago. His heart was breaking now just as it had then.
He watched as Neteyam glanced at Tuwu mournfully before turning and running away. Jake made an aborted move to go after him but he only managed to collapse onto his knees and stare at the ground, willing it to swallow him whole.
"Ma'Jake," Neytiri sighed exasperatedly, shrugging off his face buried in her neck. "I am trying to prepare dinner."
Jake tried not to sulk further, feeling undeniably identical to Lo'ak, who always pouted silently instead of telling anyone what was wrong. Like father, like son.
"Yeah, Daddy, stop crying!"
Speaking of Lo'ak. Jake turned to his cheeky little boy, only feeling slightly better when he saw the tongue sticking out at him.
"That is not what I said, ma yawntutsyìp," Neytiri smiled softly at her son's antics.
Jake reached out and grabbed Lo'ak before the boy could react, hugging him close. He was his next victim until Jake finished sulking. His son squealed, disgruntled, and thrashed his limbs to escape, but to no avail.
"Where's your brother, sweetheart?" he murmured into Lo'ak's braids.
His boy calmed down eventually, sitting snug in his lap and trying to sneak a few nuts from the cutting board. "Dunno, Daddy. He doesn't wanna talk to me. Or anyone."
Jake groaned at that, leaning his head back.
"Daddy, were you a bad boy?" Lo'ak mimicked Jake as he spoke, hands on his hips and a squint to his eyes. After all, he'd heard the same words multiple, multiple times himself. Brat.
"Get outta here," Jake chuckled, gently pushing him off with a smack to his bum. Lo'ak ran off, giggling.
Neytiri watched them with a warm smile, which promptly went away as soon as Jake tried to attach himself to her again.
"Ma'Jake," she warned.
Jake backed off, rubbing his face in frustration. "I mean, what do I gotta do, baby? Become Toruk Makto again? That's how you forgave me."
Neytiri laughed softly, shaking her head. Her beads clacked against each other with the movement. "Husband, you will always be Toruk Makto. You cannot become him again. That is not how it works."
"I have no idea how to fix this," he admitted quietly. "You should've seen him, baby— heard him. He's never been that upset."
"Tuwu was special to him," she said. "Ma'Jake, our son is very gentle."
"I know," Jake answered, looking at the floor. He rose his gaze to hers when she cupped his cheek.
"Our children do not know loss like you and I do. But this is the way of life. Our creatures die to feed us and to feed each other. Neteyam knows this but he is still young. He thinks his father can do anything, so he does not understand why Tuwu died. If you can protect him, then surely, you can protect Tuwu. That is how he thinks," Neytiri explained.
Jake nodded, heart clenching painfully in his chest. He didn't want Neteyam, or any of his kids, to lose that trust in him. But, like today proved, it was inevitable.
"Just speak to him, Husband."
The sounds of quiet crying led Jake to the branch right outside their marui. He found Neteyam sitting there with his knees pulled up to his chest and a little necklace in his hands. He took a seat next to him, lowering himself onto the branch. Neteyam's ears twitched.
"What do you got there?" Jake asked.
He watched Neteyam's lips quiver as he sniffled. "Tuwu's necklace. I made it for her last night."
Jake's ears pinned to the sides of his head and he blinked rapidly to fight the guilt. "Oh, baby, I'm so sorry."
Neteyam tucked himself into Jake's chest, rubbing his face against his neck for comfort. Jake happily returned the gesture, pulling his little boy into his lap and rocking him gently.
"Daddy, you promised," comes the whisper against his chest.
"I know, sweetheart. I shouldn't have. I can't control nature. I know Tuwu was your friend but she's with Eywa now," Jake comforted softly, rubbing his son's back.
"...Is she happy?" his little boy asked worriedly, like he was afraid of the answer.
Jake smiled, pressing a kiss to his brow line. Unlike his siblings, Neteyam had no brows like the average Na'vi. "She is, baby boy. I'm sure she loved you too."
That seemed to make Neteyam feel better. He stared down at the necklace he made before hugging it close to his chest. Jake's eyes softened when his son looked up at him.
"I still trust you, Daddy."
3.
The RDA were back, which meant the war was back.
Jake had tried everything he could to protect his children and to keep them shielded from all the violence, but the conflict eventually reached an inescapable point. His kids had to join the fight. Though even before Jake considered allowing that, his sons wanted to fight.
Neteyam had completed his Iknimaya at a very young age and achieved impressive feats, marking him a warrior earlier on in life. To his son, it was perplexing that Jake wouldn't let him join the battle against the RDA. Lo'ak, who was less skilled than his older brother but still competent, joined Neteyam's relentless begging.
It wasn't until a nearby camp was entirely wiped out by a single RDA aircraft that Jake knew he had no choice but to allow his sons to fight. They could use the extra hands. Neteyam wasn't too experienced in human combat yet, especially not against those who used guns, but he would adapt quickly. And that he did.
It scared Jake to see his little boys holding guns— a heartless weapon that would only poison their pure hearts (after all, it had poisoned Jake's the second he held one for the first time as a human)— but a sick part of him was proud. He despised that human part of him. There was nothing to be proud of.
He could only pray that the war would be over before Tuk was old enough to join the battle. He didn't think he could manage having to teach his baby girl how to shoot a gun or heal a graze when he'd barely managed teaching his sons. Kiri was a pacifist, through and through, so she'd refused to fight. She hadn't even completed her Iknimaya but bonded with an ikran purely by befriending it. Jake was glad that he could at least keep two of his children safe for now.
No. He'd keep Lo'ak and Neteyam safe too.
Jake focused on cleaning his AR, trying to steer his thoughts away from panic-inducing ones. He knew he was too tough on his sons now; that Neteyam and Lo'ak felt uncomfortable around him in a way they'd never been as younger children. They called him sir instead of dad and daddy. The change hurt like hell, but it was Jake's own hands that pushed the change.
His boys deserved a better father. But he could only keep them safe if he acted this way.
No more of their recklessness. No more of their bratty behaviour. It was kill or be killed now and like hell would he let his babies die out there. Die to the hands of the same demons whose blood coursed through their bodies. Because it coursed through Jake's.
Jake tossed the gun onto the table in front of him with a pissed off sigh.
"Mom? Moooom?" Lo'ak's inquiring voice filtered throughout High Camp. Jake watched his son bounce around the place, evidently searching for Neytiri.
The squad was to leave soon to take down one of the armoured trains stationed nearby. His sons wouldn't be doing anything but watching from afar, but of course his youngest boy wasn't dressed in the least yet.
His eyes searched for Neteyam, spotting him quite easily. He was sitting back on his ankles, dipping his fingers into bowls as he painted his body with blues, greens, and yellows. War paint. The actions were performed calmly, just as most were with his oldest child.
And then, the darndest thing happened.
"Mo— Oh, finally! Mom, I was looking for you," Lo'ak grinned in relief.
He approached Neteyam from behind before tapping him on the shoulder.
Oblivious, Neteyam turned around. Lo'ak crouched down beside him.
"Mom, where's my Zeswa loincloth? Remember? The one Dad brought back as a gift for me?" Lo'ak, despite staring straight into his brother's face, continued speaking like he genuinely believed he was talking to his mother.
Jake couldn't help the loud, baffled laugh that escaped his mouth, making several surprised eyes dart to him, including his sons'. Neteyam, ever the sweetheart, immediately perked up and smiled delightfully upon hearing Jake's laughter. But that was when Lo'ak finally noticed something was amiss.
"Bro, what the fuck?!" his son scrambled back hurriedly, cheeks flaming. "I thought you were Mom!"
Neteyam peered at him incredulously at that. "Why would I be Mom?"
Lo'ak gaped, stuttering as he looked between Jake and his brother. "You— Bro, you look exactly like Mom! I thought— What the fuck?!"
Jake was too busy laughing to scold his son for swearing so much. His chest hadn't felt this light in so long. Neteyam's tail flit from side to side happily as he watched him laugh and Jake couldn't resist walking over to his boys to pull them to his chest.
"Ugh, dad," Lo'ak grumped, trying to shove away, embarrassed— both for mistaking his brother as his mom and because people were watching Jake hug him.
"I don't look like Mother," Neteyam blushed, pressing his cheek to Jake's chest.
"Yes, you do, bro," Lo'ak groaned, covering his face with his hands.
Jake smiled softly, chest still gently shaking with laughter as he pressed a kiss to Neteyam's forehead.
"You do, baby boy, and that's a compliment. I've seen it since the day you were born. As beautiful as your mother," he murmured, soft with his boys for the first time in too long and feeling incredibly gooey.
It was true. Out of all their children, Neteyam looked most like Neytiri and he didn't only mean because of their matching three fingers. Neteyam had the same big, sweet eyes that sparkled so beautifully in the moonlight. His hairstyle always matched his mother's and they even walked the same way. He was her spitting image and it made the ferocious love he had for Neytiri soar even higher every time he looked at his baby boy.
Neteyam squeaked, ducking his head. His tail swished bashfully, snapping Lo'ak out of his embarrassment to make fun of him.
"Are you also gonna marry a sky person?" Lo'ak grinned.
"Shut up, Lo'ak!"
4.
Jake didn't realize how many different ways there were that one could serve fish. Surprisingly, he hadn't grown tired of eating it yet. Though to be fair, fish wasn't exactly rare back in the forest either so he was used to it.
Neytiri loved the food here. It was the one thing she would look at with a smile when she wasn't upset about everything else. Of course, Jake could never blame her for her aggrieved feelings. The forest had been her home since the day she was born. She'd left behind her mother and all her people. Jake had human DNA and so did his children, which meant they were biologically able to adapt to the sea much easier. Neytiri didn't have that advantage.
His wife had been through more than he wished he could've shielded her— protected her— from.
But their lives were getting better. Slowly but surely. The kids quickly grew to love the sea, even though Kiri still obviously shared her mother's sentiments about the forest. Tuk, his precious little sweetheart, could hold her breath underwater longer than even her older siblings. Being so young, she'd taken to her new environment like a champ.
Lo'ak, Jake noticed, as well. And it wasn't just the sea he'd become well-acquainted with.
"Oh, stop it," Tsireya, the chief's daughter, giggled. Jake watched as she lightly swatted his son's arm while blushing, making him smirk and teasingly lean in closer.
Jake shook his head, stifling his own smirk. The rascal. Flirting with the damn Olo'eyktan's daughter right in front of the man himself. And while they all ate dinner together. He might as well have given birth to Lo'ak with the way his kid turned out to be his exact mirror image. He recalled doing the same thing with Neytiri when they first met.
Tsireya was a sweet girl; kind and understanding. She was good for Lo'ak. Jake knew that she would be his son's future mate and he couldn't have asked for anyone better. It was adorable seeing his boy light up at even the slightest mention of her.
"It seems our lives will be intertwined forever, Jakesuli," Tonowari spoke up in that booming voice of his.
Jake turned to him, catching a brief sight of Ronal moving to sit beside Neytiri. Before he could even comprehend that absolutely shocking scene (didn't they hate each other?), Tonowari pulled his attention again.
"Our children will surely be mated once they become adults," the Na'vi smiled proudly, arms crossed over his chest and empty plate sitting at his feet.
Jake chuckled, nodding his head. "That's for sure. They can't keep their hands off each other."
"Yes," Tonowari agrees. "I believe the courting process will begin soon."
Jake glanced at Lo'ak and Tsireya again, noting the way they were shyly laughing together, foreheads practically touching. His heart warmed. "I'll make sure Lo'ak gives her the grandest gift possible," he reassured the other man, though it was unnecessary. His son was so incredibly head over heels that he would probably discover some never-before-seen gem to give to his future mate.
"Lo'ak?" came Tonowari's confused voice.
Jake blinked at him. "Uh, yeah. His name's Lo'ak."
Tonowari almost rolled his eyes at him and man, if that wasn't the most comical thing Jake had seen in a while. "I know your son's name, Jakesuli. But it is not Lo'ak I speak of."
Jake blinked again, this time with growing puzzlement. "What are you talking about?"
He glanced at Kiri, thinking maybe he was talking about his daughter and some special someone he somehow knew nothing about, but she was just sitting with Tuk.
"I speak of your eldest, Neteyam, and my son, Ao'nung," Tonowari said resolutely.
Jake loudly and humiliatingly choked on his own spit.
"Ma'Jake!" Neytiri hissed quietly as she pulled away from her conversation with Ronal, patting his back too hard to be loving. "Do not embarrass me so!"
"My bad, baby." He cleared his throat with a flushed neck, lowering his head politely to the nearby people he disturbed.
Tonowari laughed boisterously, head tossed back. Jake was pretty sure he was fully purple.
After he got himself back under control, he glanced towards his oldest son. Neteyam was sitting a little further away, near the fire with— ding, ding, ding— Ao'nung beside him. His hair was out of his regular braids, a rare occasion that Jake was just now— with horror dawning over him— realizing might have been done for a reason.
He looked exactly like Neytiri had right before they mated.
Oh, fuck. What the hell.
He was not letting that boy out of his sight tonight. It was dinner and then straight home for that one.
"Did you not notice their growing romance, Jakesuli?" Tonowari inquired honestly.
"Did you not notice your daughter and my son's growing romance?" he snapped back. Eywa, how did he fail to see what was so obviously right in front of him?
Tonowari grumped a little, just like Jake was right now. Good. They were both upset. Served the chief right for springing this on him like it was nothing.
"You are both fools," Ronal scoffed, joining in on the conversation.
Neytiri smirked, tilting her head. "Indeed. Ronal and I have known about our children since the day we arrived. Do you see how beautiful Neteyam and Tsireya look tonight? That is our doing."
Ronal nodded, expressionless but clearly smug.
Even if Jake wanted to, he couldn't hear them any longer as his senses zeroed in on Neteyam and Ao'nung. His son was looking down at the fire with a soft smile, unbraided hair falling loosely over his shoulder. He wore sparkly jewelry Jake has seen his wife wear before. From his side, Ao'nung was staring him down with an intensity that paralleled Jake's own seventeen years ago.
Oh, Eywa.
"You are to find a mate soon, Ao'nung," Neteyam spoke as softly as he usually did, gaze averted. Shyly? Knowingly? Jake couldn't tell.
"I am," Tonowari's son answered, eyes never straying from his face.
Neteyam glanced at him briefly before looking back down again. "Do you have anyone in mind?"
"Maybe. Is that a problem?" Ao'nung replied.
Jake watched his son press his lips together and shake his head gently. His fingers played with a bracelet that was no longer around his wrist. "Perhaps I can help you choose."
Oh, Eywa.
Ao'nung hummed, tilting his head to try and catch Neteyam's eyes but his son only hid his face with a shy smile.
"Satari is our finest weaver," Neteyam offered, voice lilting.
"Ninat is our finest singer," Neytiri spoke shyly. Her cat-like eyes darted to him cutely as she tried to put on a nonchalant front despite the flush in her cheeks.
"I do not want Satari," comes Ao'nung's firm response; a faint smirk playing at his lips.
"I don't want Ninat," Jake drawled lowly, heated gaze fixed on the beautiful woman before him. His heart throbbed for her, his hands fighting the urge to pull her to his chest by her trim waist and worship every inch of her—
"No!"
Jake didn't realize he'd yelled until half the gathered clan was staring at him, wide-eyed. Neteyam was gaping at him worriedly, tail flicking behind him cautiously like he was expecting an attack from above. Ao'nung looked baffled that the Toruk Makto was acting so... improper. His wife was glaring at him like he was Quartich and Ronal's usual scary expression somehow turned scarier.
"Dad, are you alright?" his sweet boy questioned anxiously.
"Yeah, Dad, are you alright?" Lo'ak repeated with amusement shining in his eyes. He'd definitely caught on.
"I..," Jake stammered, glancing at his disapproving wife before turning back to his oldest son. "Close. Too close."
"What?" Neteyam's brows pinched.
"He said," Lo'ak, his bratty little boy, began, turning to Ao'nung with an overjoyed grin. "You're sitting too close to Neteyam and if you don't move, my dad is gonna punch you."
The nearby clan members who overheard gasped like they were witnessing the greatest scandal of their lives.
"Ma'Jake, is this true?" Neytiri, his sweet, perfect wife, gasped with widened eyes and a hand over her chest; honest horror in her face. As if she genuinely believed Lo'ak actually translated his words correctly.
Jake instinctively nodded before immediately shaking his head (even if part of him thought that was a faithful interpretation of his words). "I— Eywa, no. Lo'ak!" He glared at his son.
Lo'ak turned to snort into Tsireya's shoulder.
To his credit, Ao'nung actually obeyed with a flustered face and shifted away from Neteyam, who was equally flustered.
Once the dinner resumed, Jake groaned quietly and hid his face in Neytiri's neck. "He's exactly like you."
She didn't have to ask him to clarify to smile at him with a knowing, thrilled twinkle in her eyes. "I know."
5.
Neytiri had always been a natural when it came to caring for their children— much better than him, that was for sure. Most days, Jake still felt like that same young knucklehead who'd met an equally young Neytiri in the great forests of Eywa'eveng and instantly made a fool of himself trying to impress her.
Fatherhood changed him, yes. As did becoming Olo'eyktan of the Omatikaya, though being a father no doubt impacted him more. The moment Neteyam had began to prosper within his wife's womb, he'd become a different man. The births of his other children pushed that change deeper until it felt like the man he once was no longer existed. And for good reason. That man could never be the father his babies needed.
But he still lingered, which wasn't necessarily a bad thing all the time.
He was there in those moments when Lo'ak would get into a stupid fight with some other Na'vi kids and Jake would want nothing more than to laugh and ask him if he won. That same blundering idiot wanted to mess with Neteyam and Kiri when they were focused on a task just to get a rile out of them. Or teasingly pull Neytiri's tail whenever she was mad at him rather than talking it out like adults.
So it wasn't exactly bad that he still clung to that reckless, rowdy young side of him (that he disliked seeing reflected in Lo'ak).
But it did mean he had to put in a lot of work to be even a fifth of the kind of parent Neytiri naturally was. Back on Earth, there were handbooks for this kind of shit— for first-time fathers and parents looking to improve their parenting. Here on Eywa'eveng, there was nothing like that but the oral lessons provided by elders and other parents. It definitely helped, but Jake always felt like he was more of a human father than a Na'vi father no matter how hard he tried.
Na'vi parenting, Na'vi families, were so... unique compared to the human versions. He couldn't recall ever being as touchy with his own parents and twin brother as the Na'vi were with their children. It was somewhat of a culture shock. His children clung to him like they were physically glued to him and would cuddle him like they wanted to literally crawl inside him. As adorable as it always was, it took him a little while to get used to. After all, he grew up in a family that wasn't particularly affectionate or loving. Human families were broken most of the time. His wasn't exempt from that.
Na'vi parents on the other hand were very affectionate with their children. Jake had to learn how to be just as affectionate with his sons as he was with his daughters. It was tough and he despised that human part of him, just like he despised every other human part of him.
Being a father, a parent, was difficult for him. Was before and still would be thirty years from now when his children were grown and mated with their own children. Maybe they would struggle too.
"Oh, this is lovely, Pril," Neteyam praised softly, patting the Olo'eyktan's youngest daughter on her head.
The toddler squealed happily, taking her seashell back and waddling off to show one of the other children.
Maybe. But not Neteyam.
No, Neteyam took after his mother once again. She'd always been able to solve their children's conflicts without breaking a sweat. She sang to them and danced with them. She never hesitated to shower them in kisses and hugs, unlike Jake who still often felt insecure around his own children. Like he wasn't enough for them.
But Neytiri took care of them like they were the reason she was enough.
Jake watched his oldest son from the entrance of their marui. He was sitting cross-legged on the sand with a handful of young Metkayina children surrounding him and sitting in the same position. They seemed to be weaving together with Neteyam as their teacher. His son's torso was still covered with bandages despite the fact that the battle that gave him that wound happened almost six months ago.
Jake's fingernails dug into his palms, tail swishing stiffly behind him. It would never stop hurting him to see his son wrapped in bandages due to a bullet wound so grave he'd almost died.
Almost died. His little boy. His first child.
Jake swallowed thickly. It was all his fault. He brought this pain and destruction. He was the reason his baby almost died in his arms, sobbing and begging to go home.
"I want to go home," Neteyam cried, chest heaving.
The first time he'd ever voiced his own wants because Jake was too busy being an emotionally unavailable asshole of a father to notice that his oldest child was suffering too.
He breathed out shakily, returning his gaze to where Neteyam was. He was still healing so he wasn't allowed to overexert himself, which meant he couldn't swim underwater with his siblings and friends, or hunt with Jake and the other Metkayina warriors. Jake knew it bothered his son to be so helpless, especially as an adult of the people. His future mate, Ao'nung, had completed his Iknimaya a month ago and was now part of the squads that patrolled the borders on lookout for both humans and sea predators.
Jake knew his son and he knew he was jealous— that he thought it should've been him out there with Ao'nung and the others. But he also knew his son hated to be a burden, which was why he simply put his head down and took on other, less physically demanding roles for the clan instead of voicing his frustrations.
One of those roles included helping the little ones learn how to weave nets.
Neteyam might've disliked who his injury forced him to become, but Jake could tell he absolutely adored assisting the children.
And he was a natural with them, just like his mother.
"Ow!" a little boy cried out in pain suddenly. Jake's ears twitched, instinctively stepping forward at the sound of a child in pain before he caught himself.
"Ouchie, 'Teyam!" the child sobbed, his little face twisted into a watery pout as he held out his hand.
Neteyam immediately put the net down and lifted the boy onto his lap like it was second nature. Jake's eyes softened. His son checked the boy's hand for injury, shushing him gently.
"Oh, ma yawntutsyìp," Neteyam cooed, nuzzling his cheek against the child's hair. Judging by his lack of urgency, the boy was fine but he might've been spooked.
"Can you kiss it better?" the little boy asked shyly, cheeks aflame. Jake snorted. So that was what this was about.
"Of course, sweet boy," Neteyam smiled indulgently, pressing a soothing kiss to the outstretched hand. "Were you working so hard that you accidentally got hurt?"
The child nodded seriously to the question even though Jake could hear the playfulness in Neteyam's inquiry.
"'Teyam! I got hurt too!" another child called out.
"Me too!"
Jake snorted again, smiling wide. His son was a favourite among everyone.
"Ohhh," Neteyam drew out, giggling. "All my little ones are hurt?"
"Yes!"
"Yes, teacher!"
"I am, I am!"
"Well..," Neteyam began, grinning. "Then I think everyone needs a big hug."
The children squealed happily, rushing forward to tackle his son into an embrace. Jake flinched at the way they all clung to him, terrified that they'd exasperate his injury, but his shoulders loosened when he heard the sweet chime of his boy's laughter.
If Jake had been in his place, with a billion children bombarding him and some even injured, he would've panicked his way into accidentally injuring them further and somehow managing to injure himself.
But Neteyam? Exactly like his mother.
Jake blinked away the tears gathering in his eyes.
+1
"No, gampa!" Ayi squealed, trying to escape Jake's hold.
"Just one bite," Jake grinned before faking a pout.
His toddler grandson shook his head. "Gampa, you can't eat me! I'm not food!"
"What?" Jake gasped, pretending to be shocked.
Neytiri giggled from beside him while Ronal simply shook her head with a fond smile. It was a lively night tonight, with many clan members dancing, singing, serving delicious food, and playing music. They were celebrating having successfully pushed the akula back to their own region where they could no longer terrorize their warriors and excessively hunt their prey. It had been a long few months.
Jake glanced across the beach, catching sight of Kiri resting her head against her mate's, Rotxo, shoulder. They were talking quietly but had matching smiles on their face. A little ways further was his baby girl Tuk, fifteen years old now and so, so beautiful, sitting with a girl she was crushing on. Jake didn't like her, but he doubted he would ever like her merely because she was evidence that the last of his babies had grown up.
He also didn't like the way that brat made his ferocious little girl so shy and flustered.
It was like witnessing Neteyam and Ao'nung's blossoming love all over again.
Speaking of Neteyam, Jake hadn't seen his oldest son yet tonight but he knew that was because he was still discussing matters with the other warriors. Warriors who no longer included Jake, Tonowari, Neytiri, and Ronal.
It was weird being 'retired.' He had so much free time even though he still helped out around the village. Most of his days were spent hanging out with Neytiri, Ronal, and Tonowari, who were just as free as him. Tonowari retired his position as Olo'eyktan early to Ao'nung because he was ready to move on and could tell his son was also ready to take on the role of their leader. Ronal had decided the same with Tsireya as she was now Tsahik.
So now, the four of them were just... chilling. And taking care of their adorable grandbaby, courtesy of Lo'ak and Tsireya.
Kiri and Rotxo had been mated for a couple of years now but still no children, presumably because they weren't ready or they didn't want. Lo'ak and Tsireya on the other hand were already pregnant again.
Jake looked across the fire to see his son feeding his pregnant mate as he gently rubbed her swelling belly. His baby boy now had two babies. He'd become a man, a husband, a father, before Jake could even blink and he was doing it so much better than him.
He couldn't be prouder.
"Gampa, don't cry because I said you can't eat me! I'm not that tasty!" Ayi chirped adorably, twisting in his arms to hold his face in his little hands.
Jake chuckled wetly, swiping at his face to get rid of the tears he hadn't realized formed. His grandson was a spitting image of Lo'ak despite his teal skin, bouncy curls, and wide tail. He had the same wide-set, golden eyes. Every time the little boy called out to him, he would hear Lo'ak instead and every time he ran up to him on those tiny legs, Jake would be struck with the memory of a young Lo'ak rushing over to greet him after a long day of Olo'eyktan duties.
He hadn't realized how badly he missed his children being children until Ayi was born.
"I don't know, sweetheart. I'm still a little tempted," Jake teased, opening his mouth like he was about to take a big bite.
Ayi squealed, jumping into Tonowari's arms for protection. The adults laughed at the theatrics. Ayi was a sassy little boy, just like his daddy.
"I hope you are all having a good night," came Ao'nung's booming voice, just like his father's, as he arrived.
Everyone turned their attention to the Olo'eyktan, pausing their celebrations to listen but cheering all the same. Ao'nung stood tall, taller and bigger than Tonowari, with the intricate tattoos for a warrior, leader, and mate adorning his skin. With seven years having passed since the final battle against the RDA, the boy— man— now wore his hair in a half-up, half-down style like his father. At times, he even commanded the people better than his father.
Beside Ao'nung stood Neteyam as the Olo'eyktan's mate. The older his son grew, the more he looked like Neytiri. Though he didn't have as many tattoos as Ao'nung or Tsireya, he did have a small facial tattoo and an armful on his left. Lo'ak and Kiri had similar tattoos.
This was what Neteyam had trained for since childhood; to be a leader. And it had all been taken away from him when they'd first moved to Awa'atlu, away from their forest. But now, he was able to lead again.
And he was a powerhouse. His mighty warrior all grown up.
"Tonight, we celebrate the akulas' retreat and our many warriors' brave feats that helped accomplish this," Ao'nung spoke proudly.
The clan erupted in cheers and calls.
Neteyam stepped forward, a hand on his chest. Eyes naturally gravitated towards him. "We could not have done this without the aid of each and every one of you. We thank our fishers, who braved the waters even in a time of doubtfulness just to ensure our people were fed. We thank our scouts, who relentlessly, day and night, searched for any signs of predators nearing our borders. We thank our hunters, our warriors, for having the courage and strength to defeat and chase away encroaching akula."
He wore a solemn face as he spoke his next words, resting a hand on Ao'nung's bicep. "Let us also thank our warriors who the Great Mother has welcomed with open arms. Let us never forget their brave deeds and the sacrifices they made for the safety of the people."
A collective prayer was whispered into the air, heads bowed. A few families cried quietly, comforted by nearby members. Neteyam and Ao'nung acknowledged each one.
To raise morale again, Jake watched as a smile graced Neteyam's face. "But most of all, we thank our children for doing the bravest thing of all; Listening to their parents."
Laughter immediately filled the space as the villagers smiled and gave knowing looks to their children, who giggled in turn. The music resumed and everyone got up again to dance. Jake and Neytiri exchanged a soft glance.
Ao'nung wrapped an arm around Neteyam's shoulders and leaned down to kiss his temple. His son laughed quietly, pushing him away gently.
"He is just like you, Ma'Jake," Neytiri murmured softly, eyes shining as she stared at their oldest child.
Jake blinked, looking at her in surprise. "Me?"
She smiled, turning to stare at him, amused. "Yes. When he leads, it is like I am seeing you. He is good with the people because you were good with the people. You taught him well, beloved."
Jake swallowed thickly, looking back at where Neteyam was now kneeling in front of a grieving mother, holding her hands as he spoke to her. He looked at her with such gentle, understanding eyes. His lips moved effortlessly, kind words of encouragement and empathy spilling out of him like second nature.
"...Me?" Jake repeated quietly, voice shaking.
"You," Neytiri whispered, squeezing his hand.
Me.
"Gampa, you cry so much!"
"Lo'ak— I mean, Ayi!"