Chapter Text
When you were born, your parents barely got the chance to see you.
Mo'at was the woman who was helping your mother with her birth. When just your little head began to peak through, woodsprites came – seemingly out of nowhere – covering your head. Mo'at tells you about it all the time, and just the memory of it makes her laugh out of nowhere. With every push from your mother, more woodsprites came, covering your body.
"Kä'ärìp, my dear," Mo'at encouraged, as your mother panicked at the sight of the woodsprites. She thought you lacked life, but Mo'at's presence eased her worry. Mo'at found your head to support it as you fully came out of your mother. As she carried you, the woodsprites still refused to leave.
When your father hurried in, sensing that the birth had been done, he called out. "Lu nga hasey? (Are you done?)."
Your mother smiled at your father as he rushed to her side, caressing her face, before looking to Mo'at. "Tsahik?"
Mo'at kept her gaze on the baby in her hands, which she could not see, under all of the woodsprites. The smile on her face couldn't be erased as she looked down at you – your mother and father had initially thought it was the recent addition in the Omatikaya clan, her grandchild, that was making her so elated.
"Kaltxì? (Hello?)." Your parents' heads turned to see Neytiri peeking her head in, a bright smile on her face. "How is the baby? Can Jake and I come in?"
"Baby, maybe we should give them space–"
Your mother brought a hand up to her lips, smiling. Your father gestured to Mo'at, as she held you. Jake and Neytiri stepped inside – Jake carried baby Neteyam in his hands. Neteyam was so small he could fit in just one of his hands. Neytiri stepped towards her mother, fascinated by the blanket of white woodsprites over you. "What... has...?"
Mo'at smiled confidently as the new parents, as Neytiri came to her shoulder, her hand reaching out hesitantly to hover over the newborn. "Eywa has chosen your daughter."
Neteyam, as the eldest son of Jake Sully and Neytiri te Tskaha Mo'at'ite, held the expectation of becoming the next Olo'eyktan.
And you, chosen by Eywa, were expected to be tsahik in the far future.
Once the woodsprites cleared, as you sat in your mothers hands, Mo'at brought Jake and Neytiri close as well, so she could place one hand on your forehead and one on Neteyam's. "It is our tradition for these two to be promised to one another."
Jake was hesitant. "Well, I dunno if that's a great idea–"
Mo'at looked at him. "You are Olo'eyktan. My daughter is to be tsahik. It is the path Eywa provides, Jake."
"Well–" Jake winced. "Just– let's give 'em some time. Maybe don't be so rigid about it now."
Neytiri put a hand on Jake's shoulder. "She will be promised to him when he undergoes iknimaya."
Your father chuckled, glancing at Jake's worried expression. "Brother, of all people, you know it is not a rigid promise."
Even with her lack of strength, your mother flicked his forehead.