Chapter Text
The Ilu squeaked as it sharply turned from left to right, dodging the skypeople's darts. Ao’nung was vigilant, avoiding the ammo flying right past his face. He heard the haunting wails of dying tulkun, the loud bang nearby explosions. His heart tugged at his chest, he wanted to help them so badly.
But he had to put himself first, he had to stay alive. He fought back the urge to look behind him, to turn back and protect the others, and kept moving forward, gripping his speargun tight. He swam fast, faster than he had before. If he slowed down, or took a break, he could die right there.
The boy came out of the water, his heart beating too fast for comfort. Its thumping almost louder than the whirring of engines and cries of the wounded behind him. He was finally far enough from the sky people’s relentless assault, at least for a few moments.
The water swooshed across his legs as the smell of ashes and metal filled his nose. He heard a loud gasp from his sister as she surfaced, panting as though she had gone through intense racing. He turned his head back, checking to see if Tsireya was alright.
“Tsireya! Are you alright? Are you hurt?” Ao’nung says with concern, his Ilu swimming closer to the shaken girl. She didn’t respond, just slowly swam forward, her eyes wide like she had seen something horrible. He sees that the girl is not injured, and his expression softens with relief. His eyes darted around, trying to find the other boy that swam with them. He waited for a few seconds – perhaps he was just a bit slower, Rotxo had never been the fastest. It didn’t take long before the wheels started to turn in Ao’nung’s head.
Tsireya's haunted face, Rotxo not appearing..
“..Tsireya. Where is Rotxo?” the young boy asked, his heart speeding up. His teeth clenched tight as tears began to form in his sister’s large eyes. His breathing began to speed up, hands now trembling with worry.
“Tsireya! Talk, please.. Talk to me! He’s not.." his free hand reached out and landed on her shoulder, gripping it out of anxiety. His tone had become desperate now, seeking reassurance that whatever he thought happened wasn't true. He bit his lip, trying to hold onto hope.
“..they shot him twice.. on the chest.. he fell from his Ilu.. I..” His sister finally responded, barely coherent as the tears finally dropped out of her big eyes, running down her face and into the deep sea.
Ao’nung felt nauseous. He felt numb. His entire body began to tremble as he tried to wrap his head around what he had just been told.
Rotxo, his best friend since childhood, the boy who was practically his brother, was now gone. Dead.
His hand fell from Tsireya's shoulder, he felt too weak to even move. His nails dug into his palm as he tried to fight tears, his eyes stinging and his ears ringing. But in war there is no time to grieve, to cry over a dead friend.
Ao'nung's ear flicked as he heard the soft sound of engines coming from behind him. He turned around and aimed his speargun at the boat. The bullet just barely dodges his Ilu as his arrow flies into the skyperson’s head, their body going stiff as blood spilled down their face. Tsireya's head snapped back at the same time, her eyes wide with fear.
“We need to go, Tsireya! We.. we will search for his body after the battle, okay?” he says before plunging back into the water, his sister following shortly after.
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It was finally over, the war, the battle, the bloodshed. He and his sister were safe, Awa'atlu was safe.
The siblings emerged from under the water. They couldn't find any other member of their family, or any of the Suli's. They could only pray that they were alright.
But even though the fighting had ceased, the pain had not.
Ao'nung immediately thought back to the fact that his best friend was still dead, the fact that he had no idea whether his parents were alive or not. No idea if his other friends were alright, no idea if his spirit brother was alright..
Ao'nung shook his head, he had to be strong, panicking would only waste precious time. His head turned to observe the damage. Dead bodies everywhere, fires, machinery.. it was chaos. It was a mess.
"Ao'nung, we should try and find our parents before dealing with the dead." Said the girl, her quiet voice still shaky. Ao'nung snapped out of his thoughts and nodded as the Ilu began to swim through the water.
The sea reeked of blood and death, littered with the large tulkun and small Na'vi bodies. Ao'nung shut his eyes, turning his head away from the sight. He searched, praying that his brother would not be there. He was not, in fact, with the dead, and Ao'nung could not thank Eywa more for that.
Then, his eyes landed on a large figure walking towards an Omatikaya family.
It was his father, Tonowari. Beside him stood the Suli's. He instantly recognized them because of their smaller bodies and the ikran. It seems as though they had led Tonowari to this rock. Ao'nung's heart slowed in relief, his dad was still alive. The Olo'eyktan stopped as his head lowered to look at something on the rock.
"Father!" He and his sister called out. Their ilu swam faster towards the rock, stopping so that they could get off. Ao'nung hurriedly walked to Tonowari, wanting to hug him tight. But he knew that was too informal, so he simply walked behind him and put a hand on his shoulder. He got no response from his father, which was quite odd. He turned his eyes to where Tonowari was staring at.
His smile vanished completely, now replaced with a look of complete terror. He walked forward a few steps and fell to his knees, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths.
In front of him lay his mother, her face blank and eyes empty.
She, who used to protect him and his sister, the woman he had looked up to, the woman who brought him into the world, now lay dead before him.
Tsireya let out a gut-wrenching cry at the sight, covering her mouth as she began to weep. A thud was heard as she dropped down beside the body, her hands hovering over her wound, the blood still dripping out. Tsireya's hands moved around the body, desperately trying to search for any signs of life. She shook her, pinched her, shouted for her to wake up. She tried everything, and in return she got nothing. No breath came, no life returned to her eyes. Her body stayed motionless.
Ao'nung's eyes turned to look at his sister, hearing her desperate pleas, asking their mother to awaken. Then he looked back at the body, shaking his head in disbelief. He began to try waking her up too, though deep down he knew it was all in vain. He refused to listen to that voice that told him to stop, that this was a waste of time, that his mother was beyond saving. He could feel the eyes of the Suli's burning into his back, the pity in their saddened gazes.
She couldn't be dead. She couldn't have just.. left them alone - left Tsireya as Tsahik, left Tonowari without his mate, Ao'nung without his teacher. She's an outstanding, powerful woman, how could she just.. die?
"Ao'nung. Tsireya. It's no use." A deep voice startled the young boy and snapped him back to reality. He turned his head to his father, who by now had also crumpled to his knees. Though he was most likely only getting down to his children's level. His large hand rested on Ao'nung shoulder. "She's gone."
He notices that Tonowari had also been crying. It surprised Ao'nung, he didn't know that his father could cry. Tonowari had always been so strong - so mighty, he almost forgot that he had other emotions.
He stared at his father, then looked at his hands. Evidently, Tonowari had been holding Ronal's body before his children had arrived, for blood stained his hands bright red.
Then, he heard it. A loud cry, a baby's cry. He looked back at the deceased woman, and noticed her belly had gotten flatter.
He turned to the high pitched sound and saw her. His sister, the baby her mother had carried for so long, squirmed around wrapped in a pouch held by Neytiri. She was tiny, only a little larger than their mother's hands. Her little face was scrunched up, as all babies' faces do when they cry.
"Her name is Pril." Said Neytiri, her voice quiet and soothing as she handed the newborn to Tonowari, who took the baby into his arms and close to his chest.
Pril.
A beautiful name, it was soft and adorable for a child, yet could be powerful when that baby grows older.
However, in this dazed state, Ao'nung couldn't focus on anything. All he could see, all he could hear or feel, was his dead mother, the lack of her scolding, the lack of her loving touch. The boy held her arm, as though if he gripped hard enough, he would feel the warmth she used to have.
He silently wishes he had been with her, fought with her. Maybe, if he had been there, he could have taken the blow instead. Maybe he could have saved her on that rock, maybe he could have protected her, warned her, did something - anything.
But it was all in vain. Now, his own mother has died too. He couldn't turn back time. What comes next wouldn't be a miracle - no one could give life to them once more. Not even Eywa can.
What was next, were the funerals.
Ao'nung hunched over his mothers body, holding the body tight and letting his tears fall onto her stomach. His breath was unsteady, his chest couldn't stop shaking.
He heard a sigh come from behind him. He turned back to look at the source of the sound, which happened to be one of the Suli's.
His eye twitched, and his fists clenched. His ears flattened against his head as he began to feel something boiling inside of him.
At that moment, Ao'nung couldn't find anything positive about the half-blood family. All he could see were their disgusting hands, their ever-so-slightly smaller eyes, how.. demon-like they looked.
Kiri's small nose, Lo'ak's.. strange hairs above his eyes, and that odd extra finger.
Then there was that.. creature.
He didn't even look Na'vi in the slightest.. yet by some miracle he could speak the language and all of a sudden breathe the air. His revoltingly small 4 fingered hands, his pale skin and his small frame made Ao'nung want to shove his head into the water and never bring it back up.
They have the blood of sky people.
Sky people, the ones who killed his mother.
Sky people, the ones who killed his best friend.
Ao'nung had never felt angrier at another in his life. He nearly just pounces on them right then and there.
If not for them, the ships would have never found our location.. if not for them our village would have never been burned..
If not for them, Rotxo and Ronal would still be alive.
The thoughts swirled around his aching head, nearly making him forget that they were hurting too, that they were probably eternally guilty as well.
Before he could act on his impulses to scream at the Omatikaya family, tell them to leave and never come back - his eyes drifted to Lo'ak, who walked to Tsireya and hugged her tight. Without thinking her hand grabbed his arm, seeking comfort. The sight softened Ao'nungs gaze by a fraction.
That was his reminder, the thing that held him back from fighting the Suli's. They were one of the people now, they must be treated with the same love and respect as any other Metkayina. It wasn't their fault. The only people that should take the blame were them, the small aliens who fell from stars, who strive to destroy the planet.
Ao'nung slowly turned his head back to the dead woman, then to his devastated father, who held Ronal's face with one hand and ran the other through her damp hair. His face was wet from both tears and the almost-dry sea water.
He had gotten so caught up in his own thoughts, he didn't notice all the Metkayina piling up on the rock, weeping over his mother. The noise invaded his ears, causing his face to scrunch up.
He looked at his sister, whose hair fell over her head as she cried against her mother's chest. Behind Tsireya was Lo'ak, who had his arms wrapped around her, whispering words inaudible to Ao'nung in an attempt to comfort her, at least a little.
Ao'nung looked back at his wet fists, one clutching her forearm and the other her bicep with a grip so strong it could break a child's bones. He shut his eyes and turned his head up, as though he was trying to convince himself this wasn't real, that it was just some cruel joke.
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The search for Rotxo's body was grueling. The water Ao'nung had found comfort in for so many years suddenly seemed so cold it felt like needles.
The siblings were accompanied by two of the Suli's, Kiri and Lo'ak. Tonowari stayed back with Ronal's body and the new born baby.
Tsireya had been the only hope, for she was the last one who saw him. Ao'nung stayed incredibly close to her, not only because she was the only one who knew where the body was, but because he didn't want to lose anyone else. He was afraid that if she went out of his sight, she would leave him just like the other two did.
The search took hours, or at least that's what it felt like to Ao'nung, but finally the boy spotted a figure laying at the bottom of the sea near some coral. He brought the corpse out of the water with the help of Tsireya, and perched it atop the Ilu.
He stared at the limp body, two darts stuck in his chest like worms sticking out of the sand. He looked at the face that was once so full of joy, the face he'd known for so many years, now completely blank and lifeless.
Ao'nung slowly put his hand on the boy's cheek, the skin was cold, a stark contrast to the usual warmth he would feel when hugging the younger boy. He heard the gentle sobs of Tsireya as she held Rotxo's hand to her cheek. Rotxo was always close to her, of course not as close as he was to Ao'nung, but still very close -- almost like a cousin.
Ao'nung then turned his head to the two Omatikaya, who looked at Rotxo with both shock and sorrow. Rotxo had always been intrigued by Kiri, Ao'nung had noticed. Though, he couldn't tell whether he was in love or just curious. The younger Na'vi voluntarily chose to train Kiri himself, and was always stealing glances at her.
It also seemed Rotxo enjoyed Lo'aks company as well. Ao'nung could catch him smiling at the Omatikaya boy when he improved during training, or when he improved in anything.
That's too bad, he died before he could say anything.
Ao'nung mounted the Ilu, holding Rotxo's body close so that it did not fall back into the dark sea.
Swimming back with the body was just as painful as swimming to where the body was. The boy had to hold the cold body of his best friend, going through harsh waters. It took all of Ao'nung's power not to vomit the entire way back. His eyes stayed focused on the waves ahead, refusing to look at the dead boy.
The boy silently prays for a miracle, for Rotxo to twitch, open his eyes, maybe even gasp for air. But Rotxo was just as unresponsive as Ronal.
The only sounds that could be heard were Tsireya's quiet sobs and the waves as they collided with the ilu.
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The news of the Tsahik's death spread like wildfire, and by the time the 4 teens had returned, the rock was crowded with Metkayina men and women. Ao'nung could barely see his mother through the multitude of grieving Na'vi. He had to squeeze in between the cracks just to see what was happening.
The woman's still body was being carried off by a group of warriors, all of which were crying or holding back tears. Behind and around that group were countless others carrying many dead bodies as well. Ao'nung looked at all of the motionless bodies and recognized each face.
The faces that he once saw laughing, smiling, talking, now pale and expressionless. Some were fishers that'd helped him with his form, some were teens barely older than him that would do silly things just so the Olo'eyktan's son would notice them, some were weavers who'd made beautiful jewels for the family, some were warriors he'd seen his parents talking with just before the battle...
All the dead had left their mark in the clan, but in the end they all became one in Eywa.
Ao'nung eyes stung with tears as he helped the others carry the bodies and prepare for the funerals.