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Like they saw Suli!Reader threatening Ao’nung, hissing at him, always warning him to keep his hands off her and they just knew

Trust me if I used AI, you’d get faster updates (and they’d be written way better) than what I can churn out 🤣

Disrespect

Summary: He doesn’t allow anyone to disrespect his wife, especially not his children

You called him Atanvi, little spark, long before he had ever been born.

Atanvi, even in the womb, was one who was full of life and constantly on the move. He was a baby-to-be that would keep you awake for hours but kicking and rolling, making his presence known.

Atanvi had earned his namesake moments from taking his first breath, kicking and screaming like he was angry at the Great Mother for waking him from the sleep he’d had in your womb.

He was born after three girls—a son, with three older sisters who doted on him like he was their own. You had loved your boy just as much as Ao’nung had, yet your little flame had been a mama’s boy from the moment he took his first breath.

He was a perfect blend of the Metkayina who fathered him and the Omatikaya mother who birthed him. Blue eyes with swirls of gold like his older sisters, thinner arms and thicker tails—features that had given his older sisters advantages despite what some in the clan thought.

The little firecracker that had the charming nature of Ao’nung and your inescapable stubborn yet powerful attitude. He was his mama’s shadow, going everywhere you had went while holding onto your tail as if he was going to get lost. He was a child who loved his sa’nu almost more than he loved his sempu. Although Atanvi had enough room in his heart for both his parents, Ao’nung knew you were the favourite.

As the years had passed and Atanvi had grown older, he had desired to chase after the hunters that were a few years older than him. He had watched his uncle Lo’ak, the mate of the tsahik, fearlessly prepare and go on hunting trips or raids. Atanvi had looked on with stars in his eyes and hopefulness that he too would become a big strong warrior.

He was only 11 when he started pulling away from his sa’nu, when he had wanted to do more with his Sa'nokä tsmukan—his uncle Lo’ak—than with you. Atanvi was on the cusp of entering the training roster and being assigned a group he would train with. Ao’nung was wise to know that your little boy growing up would have affected you, that it would have tugged on your heart and made your forlorn to see—even if you were happy he was strong.

By 11 he had decided that he no longer needed his sa’nu, his mama, and wanted to be like the other hunters. He had entered the training roster, he had begun to surround himself with future warriors, hunters and scouts for the Metkayina.

It was different with Atanvi than it was with your girls—your girls always needed their sa’nu for advice on courting, on navigating the complexities of stupid boys who thought they were pretty. You had never felt them pulling away from you like Atanvi had, you always had this special bond with your girls that was reminiscent of Ao’nung’s bond with his girls.

Atanvi was different, he had seen those big strong hunters like his uncle, and he wanted to be them. He pulled away and you stayed close, offering the comfort of a mother that he never seemed to need.

As much as Atanvi had been trying to distance himself from the embrace of his mother, he had never been disrespectful. He was a little hunter to be who still spoke kindly to his sa’nok even though he thought he didn’t need her anymore.

However, as most growing boys are that think they do not require their sa’nu hovering, Atanvi had started to change his attitude. He was starting to talk back, ignoring the requests you had given him to help his sisters or help around the marui, to do chores that he’d always done.

Your little boy who once cried whenever he couldn’t see you, had started to think that he didn’t need to listen to his mama. It hurt you, his growing distance had hurt your heart but you were quiet about your sadness, withholding the truth from Ao’nung to spare a fight. You knew that Ao’nung would not take the attitude from your boy, just as you knew that Atanvi was going through a phase.

That’s why Ao’nung was so taken back when he heard Atanvi’s disrespect. It had happened when we he 12 and was helping prepare some tools and weapons for a hunting trip. He was supposed to go with his uncle Lo’ak, Ao’nung, Roxto and his son—the future mate of Avanti’s older sister.

Ao’nung had been checking the nets, crouched by the dock where the rest of the supplies were sitting. In the corner of his eyes he could see Atanvi speaking with Lo’ak, handing his uncle spears and knives ready to be stored in the canoe. His son was standing as confident as Ao’nung had once stood with his thick curls held in a manner like his own, tied with reed wraps you had made him.

“She is annoying, she will not leave me alone.” At first he had thought his son was talking about a girl, and was Ao’nung had almost felt nostalgia over the annoyance that you had felt when Ao’nung hung around. The idea he had in his mind when Atanvi was speaking was that there was a little ‘eveng who had liked him.

“That is what they do, that is their job.” Lo’ak had side-eyed Atanvi, the corner of his lips dropping as he frowned.

“She is always on my ass about eating, or about doing my chores. She babies me. I am tired of it. I am not a baby. I wish sa’nok would just shut up sometimes.” Atanvi had spoken freely, thinking that his uncle would understand how it felt to have a protective mother.

“What did you just say?” Ao’nung tosses the net to the dock and rises to his full height, catching the attention of Lo’ak, Roxto and his son, and Atanvi.

“Sempul-” his son knew he had screwed up the moment Ao’nung had stood and looked toward Atanvi.

“What did you just say about your mother?” Ao’nung asked again, hoping to the Great Mother that he had not just heard his son correctly.

“It is just that she is too much, she is always trying to control-”

“Sit down.” Ao’nung commands of his son, closing the distance between them, trying to keep composure of himself and the rising protective nature.

“Sempul-”

“Sit down!” He raises his voice, much like his father had done with many years ago when Lo’ak had gone to find his spirit brother.

When Ao’nung raises his voice, Atanvi flinches and immediately drops to the rattan platform, knees crumpled under him. He is looking at his father with apprehension and a little fear, because he hasn’t just insulted his mother but he has insulted the Olo’eyktan’s muntxatan.

“Sempul I was just-”

“Enough.” Ao’nung raised his hand and breathed through his nose, watching his son with narrowed eyes. “Why are you talking about your sa’nok that way? Do you think that is okay? That is is right with the Great Mother?”

“I am not a baby anymore, sempul! I am training to be a hunter, a warrior. She worries too much. Have you eaten? Are you rested enough? You need to do your chores ma itan—” Atanvi is cut off by Ao’nung’s growing irritation and a low rumble of his chest as a hiss starts to building.

“She might be your sa’nok but she is my muntxate.” Ao’nung’s jaw becomes tense, ticking as he grinds his teeth. “You do not disrespect my wife, I do not care if you are frustrated or you think she is babying you. That is my muntxate, ma itan. My wife.”

“Your sa’nok does more for you than you understand, and you will one day miss her coddling. You want to be a big strong hunter, you want to be a mighty warrior?” Ao’nung crosses his arms over his chest and deflects his attention toward Lo’ak. “What would your dad do if you talked to your mother that way?”

“Ground my ass nine ways to Sunday, hell I’d have my ass kicked.” Lo’ak does not come to Atanvi’s defence, he knows that his nephew is wrong. Just as he knows that there is a state of peace that Atanvi has always known, peace that was not awarded to you.

To Lo’ak or to Ao’nung.

“You do not talk about my muntxate that way, ma itan.” He is not harsh with his words but he is clear—to Atanvi and anyone else listening. “That is my wife, and my wife will be respected. Yes?”

Atanvi becomes somber as Ao’nung scolds his son and comes to your defence without hearing Atanvi through. He lowers his head and draws his hands from the floor to his thighs, fingers curling against his skin. He is quiet and contemplative until he gathers his thoughts.

“Oeru txoa livu, ma sempul.” He lifts his head, an expression crossing his face that makes him look younger than he is trying to be. “Kope tsun oe nìtstaw taron hu nga?”

“No.” Ao’nung rises from the crouch he was in and stands before his son, staring down at the little boy, turned future hunter, that you still loved endlessly. “You will go apologize to her mother and you will tell her how you spoke to her. She will decide if you can still go hunting with us.”

“Sempu….”

“It it were up to me, you would be looking after the ilu calves for a month but I will leave it up to your mother. If you return by the time we are ready in an hour, then that means she has forgiven you and will allow you to go.” Ao’nung tips his head in the direction of your marui, motioning for his son to start walking. “Go, and do not let me catch you speaking of your mother like that again.”

“Yes sempul.” Atanvi nods his head and his bottom lip quivers as he turns and begins walking.

I understand exactly what you’re saying and I want to reassure you that those will still be updated. I actually have the Double Or Nothing update in progress and I go back to it when I’m stuck on other works in progress

Buckle up because I have a lot and I might need to make a part 2

Avad: my favourite royal who needs a prince/princess 🤭

Erend: My favourite heavy hitting drunk

Kotallo: my favourite pessimistic, one armed warrior

Varl: Justice for Varl, he deserved so much more

Aloy: obviously she’s a badass

Alva: I didn’t like her my first playthrough but loved her the second time!

Sylens: I love him, I know he’s a bit of an anti-hero in a way but I love him

Masterlist

Part 13

Warnings: The first half has smut, the second half mentions smut. There is also talks of pregnancy/being pregnant, please don't read it if it makes you uncomfortable

The glow of the fire casts shadows upon the walls of this marui on the island where couples like you find an escape. It eats at the wood that gives it life, crackling and popping as the trapped sap and gas beneath the fibres are forced out in microscopic explosions.

While the fire lights the private escape you two have shielded yourself away in, there is another inescapable heat. It is burning between you and Ao’nung and has nothing to do with the flames that give you warmth or provide a means to cook food.

This fire is intoxicating and tantalizing, it is the rush of an enigma—raising the intensity of the passion but not allowing either of you to rush. This fire is conveyed through the blazing blue eyes of a Na’vi who is focused on a single goal.

Blues that know the perfect golden eyes belonging to the woman he can never get enough of, are fluttering shut. With every soft touch of his lips along the curve of your spine, Ao’nung is kissing along the edges of the scar you received from the akula.

A sort of follow up to this

Desire

Summary: Hours after one of the clan's many celebrations, Pril falls asleep in your marui; in the quiet you and Ao'nung have a moment that is interrupted

"Ma Yawntutsyìp, lrrtok srrʼìlpur tätxaw," the words to a song you had heard from the Sully's, who had shared their Sky people music through one of the many human devices they had access to. While you had thought most of the Sky People's things were pointless, useless beyond reason, you had gathered somewhat of an affinity for their music.

This lullaby specifically, which you had often sung to yourself while you worked in your herbalist marui.

Oh little darling, a smile returns to the faces

Little Pril, exhausted from the celebration's of her clan, has chosen to spend her night here. In your marui where you are often found grinding herbs for the tsahik, she finds comfort, peace and safety. You can still hear the sound of your clan celebrating, the beating of drums and the sweet notes of a flute. You know there are others who will drink and dance, feast well into the night but you had taken an early leave when Pril had begun to get tired.

Tonowari was going to be discussing clan matters for a large portion of the night, and would not have returned until late. Tsireya had been working tirelessly as the tsahik, and having a night off with Lo'ak was important to their relationship.

"Ma 'ite, oe keftxo fko ralo säwomteng nì'it." You are continuing to brush her curls back from her forehead while she sleeps with her head in your lap.

Little darlin' I feel that ice is slowly melting

She is peacefully resting with someone that she finds great comfort in, and you find yourself incapable of moving lest you disturb her. As you sing, you can see her eyes moving behind her eyelids, the dreams that take her beyond the reality of the world around her must be beautiful, if the smile that forms on her little face is any idnication.

As you sit in the marui with a fire that is beginning to fade, there is movement outside your marui that draws your attention. You lift your head and observe the soft steps that are kept light to not wake little Pril. Beyond the threshold of your marui, Ao'nung approaches the entrance and quietly enters, carrying with him some fresh fruit and flatsnake fish.

He appears with the paint of the clan celebration still marked on his skin and the newest added tattoos to his body still in the process of healing. His dark curls are in their usual style, pulled out of his face and tied held with leather dyed in soft colours that match the sunrise. The tie itself was a gift from you, a courting gift that you had made one night after he had taken Pril home.

He says nothing as he approaches you and his sister. He lowers himself toward the ground and places the food he had brought for you within reach. Once the plates and bowls are placed on the ground, he rises again and moves toward your hammock and the wicker baskets you had set along the wall. You follow his movements with your eyes, watching the expanse of the muscles of his back moving beneath the woven fibre toa guard that protects his heart.

As you watch him moving toward the baskets you had settled near your hammock, you continue to sing to Pril. You watch him, the handsome and charming Metkayina who could have any tutè he could want in the village, yet you know where his heart lies. You know who had captivated his heart, and you know just as well that he has your heart in exchange.

"Tsawke kä fahew, ulte oe plltxe, 'sìltsan fìʼu." You continue to sing to her while Ao'nung crouches in front of those wicker baskets you have sitting under your hammock.

Here comes the sun, and I say "it's all alright"

He reaches for one of the blankets that he had given you almost year ago, your favourite and most used on late nights like these. He is gentle when he shakes out the blanket and frees it from it's fold, just as gentle as he is when he drapes it over his sister's sleeping form.

When she is covered and stirs only once, Ao'nung comes to sit next to you, placing himself by your side with ease that naturally falls between you. For a moment there is verbal silence between you, nothing but the sound of the crackling fire that burns in your herbalist's marui and the sound of the ocean not far from your door. The silence is comfortable and intimate, it is a statement of how much you enjoy each other's company without having to speak and without expecting something from the other.

"You have a beautiful voice, ma yawne." Ao'nung is the first to break the silence, if only to compliment you and the Sky People's melody you sing that has his sister so comforted. Ao'nung gives you the compliment and then he shifts closer to you and exhales with a weight that makes the sound seem heavier than it should be.

"Your sa'nok loved this time of year." You speak for him, almost instinctively knowing what he was going to say before he could muster the words.

The truth of what you are saying is alleviating the weight he feels, he doesn't need to tell you as much. You can tell by the manner of which he shifts into you and the way his fingers brush across the top of your hands, drawing the tips of his fingers across the hills and valleys of your knuckles.

"My sa'nok always liked you." His voice is quiet, soft as the two of you sit in each other's comfort while Pril sleeps with her head upon your lap. "She is grateful for you looking after her like you do."

"I love Pril." You speak while you are looking down at the little girl who is peaceful here, in your marui that is like her second home. A place where she knows she can run to whenever she needs someone to talk to, or someone to sneak her sweet snacks if she thinks she is not allowed to.

"She loves you." Ao'nung withdraws his hand from yours and traces the patterns of your skin with backs of two fingers, humming in contemplation when you shiver in response to the feel of him touching you. "I love you."

"I love you too." You shift your attention from the little girl in your lap to her older brother, the handsome and brave warrior that you are courting and soon will mate. "You are my best friend, Ao'nung."

Ao'nung's hand rises to cup your cheek, holding the side of your face as he leans in and rests his forehead against yours. The tip of your noses touch, brushing against the others, and there is a warmth that passes between you, a sensation that goes beyond anything physical.

This relationship, this courtship that will lead to your mating feels as old as time, like the two of you have been bound to the other throughout every lifetime. It is an extension of love that goes far beyond where you are now. As if you and Ao'nung have lived a thousand lives and you have always found the other, no matter where you are.

"Ma yawntu..." he speaks to you with nothing less than absolute desire and devotion, there is a pulse of energy that sparks between you and Ao'nung presses his lips to yours in a gentle yet searing kiss. You lean into the kiss and begin to pour just as much emotion into as it as he does. It feels as if nothing could have possibly ended this tender exchange when a soft little gasp immediately breaks the tension.

You pull away from Ao’nung and look down at the once sleeping girl in your lap, whose blue eyes are wide open. She has an expression of surprise, of shock, and it takes a moment for her to register what is happening.

"You kissed?!" Pril, who had once been fast asleep, suddenly stares up at you and Ao'nung sitting incredibly close. "Are you courting?”

"We are courting tsmuke-" The news is received with a boisterous shriek that is piercing, and it does not take Pril long to launch herself at Ao'nung, eager to hug her brother tightly. She wraps her arms tightly around his neck and squeezes him while talking rapidly, over and over about how excited she is for this—for him.

"Why did you keep this a secret from me?" Pril leans back and claps her hands against Ao'nung's cheeks, pushing in to make his lips become pursed. “You should have told me.”

“Pwil-” the name is muddled by the manner of which his cheeks are squished, and he tries to get her to back off but she only leans in further and stares him down. “-let go-”

“You lied to me.” She playfully hisses and then she leaps off of his lap and slams into your arms, just as intensely leaning into you and your warmth. “I am going to have a new sister!”

“You were asleep, Pril—”

“—and you are going to be mates and then have babies and I will be an aunt-”

“Pril that is-”

“-you will have babies.” She whips her head around to stare at her brother, eyes narrowed as if this is a promise she was given and he will not take it away from her. “I will be an aunt.”

Punishment Enough

Summary: You and Lo’ak are two peas in a pod, always causing some kind of chaos for your family, being in Awa’atlu doesn’t change anything

You move with swift silence, the kind that should have been reserved for the tactical effort of burning great beasts. While the rest of the clan is preparing for the First Breath ceremony in which the Tulkun will return with their calves, you are trying not to be seen. The path you take has been calculated with great precision that is usually saved for the raids your father plans for the RDA.

This is a different kind of raid, instead of Sky People you will be infiltrating the stores of trades Zangke and the fermented fruit wine. The caskets of wine are stored in a hut on the edge of the village under the cover of mangrove trees, in a cool space that is usually heavily monitored because of Na’vi like you.

But today, it is lax. The Metkayina are too busy preparing for the ceremony, which leaves an opening for you and Lo’ak. The partner in crime that had corralled you into this plan is following your movements, crouched and silently talking toward the marui.

“Dad will kill us if we get caught.” You whisper, your voice tense and taut as you speak to your brother behind you. “We’ll be grounded for months.”

“We won’t get caught.” Lo’ak retaliates and leans in, pushing you forward with his hand. “You asked about this didn’t you? Scouted-”

“-it’s not a life or death raid, skxawng.” You stop short of the pathway that crosses from the marui’s that house Na’vi, to the marui’s that supplies are stored in, waiting for the pair of Metkayina to pass. “It’s zangke.”

“You’re the skxawng.” Lo’ak hisses and curls his forefinger against his thumb, flicking the tip of your ear. “Why didn’t you ask your boyfriend Ao’nung-”

“-shut your mouth!” You whip your head around, fiercely glaring at your brother with a look that could melt his face. “That arrogant fish-lipped ass hole is not my boyfriend! As if he would ever-”

“Clear!” Lo’ak shoves past you and darts across the pathway, moving swiftly while leaving you behind. You follow him with your gaze and brace your palms against the springy rattan walkway, ears flattened.

He is moving quickly, like there is a fire under his ass. Neither of you can afford to be caught, not by the Metkayina who are usually watching this storehouse and especially not by your dad. But this was the opportune moment for you to try, while most were busy and the Zangke would be left unattended.

“Lo’ak!” You hiss your brother’s name as he darts down to the side of the marui that stores the wine. You are left to witness him peering over the edge, trying to peek inside through the woven openings in the walls. When he peers over and looks back at you, he waves his hand and motions for you to go over.

You follow him with the same quickness under your feet, ducking down behind your brother once you cross the pathway. As you rise to look through the window woven into the wall, you see the caskets of candle and fermented fruit, none are marked at least not to your ability to see. Rather they are all sitting together with seals and wrappings made of fibre that help keep their seals.

“What’s the Zangke?” Lo’ak turns his head, looking at you briefly before his attention falters. “What do we take?”

“Just grab something!” Like he had shoved you, you place your hand on his shoulder and shove him, pushing him toward the door. He crouches and creeps along the side of the marui until he can reach the sliding door that keeps others out.

“They use shells as an alarm on the door, you have to move it quietly.” You remind Lo’ak, sliding your feet across the rattan path to keep yourself silent.

With your warning, Lo’ak begins to slide open the door, inch by inch, mindful of the shells that hang on both sides of the door. The are acting as a siren to notify whoever is close enough to hear them that someone’s messing with the door.

“We get in, take two caskets and leave.” Lo’ak pushes the sliding door open and slinks inside, the cool depths of the room is refreshing from the intensity of the sun that beats down on you. As you follow him in, your tail swishes behind you in a motion that mirrors the twitching of your ears, ready to react to any small sound.

“There…” you raise your hand tap Lo’ak’s shoulder, stirring him from the jars that seems to harbour more dust and sand, signifying they’d been here longer. “Take those.”

He moves with ease, reaching his four fingers and thumb for one jar, hoisting it from the ground. He weighs it and turns it upside down to feel the liquid that’s inside before he passes it back to you. You take the jug and balance its weight on your thigh as you crouch, waiting for him to grab another.

As he reaches for another jar, the blaring sound of a horn comes far too close to you, signalling the return of hunters nearby. Lo’ak, caught off guard, stumbles forward and his body crashes into one of the jars, sending it toppling to the rattan floor.

He falls onto the jar, the force of his sudden shifting weight causes one of the jars to crack. Under the pressure of fermenting, the Metkayina fruit wine begins to spray Lo’ak in the sweet and tangy liquid. He jolts back and scrambles to his feet just as you rise, balancing the jar in your arms.

You follow your brother out of the marui, slamming the sliding door shut with enough force that has the shells jingling with a vivaciousness that cannot be ignored. The Metkayina who was on watch, solely by themselves, begins to jog down the path toward you and Lo’ak, startled by someone messing with the store.

“Run, tsmuke!” Lo’ak yelps naturally, the sound bouncing off the different surfaces that line the pathway—housing marui’s or storage—and drags you behind him as the two of you dart into the tree line to avoid being seen.

You run like you are being chased by a pack of nantnag’s, only stopping when you think you are in the clear. Only then does Lo’ak allow himself to breathe with a wide grin on his face that matches the ease of his laugh.

“You really think dad will find out?” You ask as he takes the jug from you and tucks it under his arm.

“Don’t worry, bro.” Lo’ak shrugs off the idea and flashes a prideful smile. “How would he find out?”

You were on the shoreline with Tuk when the boy you hated most in the village starts to descend upon you like a dark cloud. The cocky swagger of his footsteps mocked you from the edge of the village all the way to the stopping point.

Everything about Ao’nung te Tsika'u Tonowari'itan angered you, from the stupid arrogance of his attitude that exceeded a natural limit, to the manner of which he looked at you. That aggravating half-smirk that played on his lips, aided by the cock of his head while he eyes ran over you…

You hated him.

“Nga olo'eyktanur kin.” Ao’nung stops short of you and Tuk and crosses his arms over his chest, his blue eyes zeroing in on you while you return his glance with a heated glare. “What did you do forest, girl?”

“None of your damn business, fish-lips.” You hiss at him and turn away, crouching by your sister as she looks between you and Ao’nung. “Go find mom, okay? I’ll help you decorate your loincloth when I’m done.”

Tuk gathers her little basket of things she gathered from the beach and starts making her way toward the village, only to stop by Ao’nung. When she looks up at him, he slips a hand into the bag he has resting on his hip and pulls out a piece of dried banana fruit. Tuk doesn’t hesitates to take it from him and takes a big bite out of it, happily thanking Ao’nung before moving along.

You are less than pleased with him, although his kindness to Tuk is appreciated.

“I don’t need an escort, you can go back to praising your own reflection.” You sneer at Ao’nung and as you pass by him, you whack him across the shoulder with your tail.

You move up the beach toward the village and follow the path that takes you to the council room. You know what this is about, you know that your dad found out about the Zangke and you are now trying to come up with some logical explanation.

“Ma 'evenge, nga lu mì huwey!” Ao’nung follows behind you, jogging to catch up to you as you navigate your way back to the forest. He’s taunting you, telling you that you are going to be in trouble, which you already know.

“Thanks, captain obvious.” You scoff and sneer at him and his stupid face. You turn away from him and hurry your pace, taking as many twists and turns as you can to lose him. Unfortunately he is right on your tail, following your every move.

“Cap-tain obv-ious?” Ao’nung repeats your statement, accentuating the words at odd intervals that could have been cute—if it was anyone but Ao’nung.

When you reach the council room, Ao’nung reaches for you and snatches your wrist in his hand before you can step inside. You turn your head and take a slow glance at the hand he has on your wrist, and then raise your gaze inch by inch. You stop when you reach his face, your eyes forming a steely glare that is conducive of your feelings toward him touching you.

“You are very pretty when you look like you want to rip my head off, suylang.” Ao’nung, not afraid of your bite or your harsh hissing, uses his other hand to brush his fingers against your cheek. He pushes one of your braids back over your ear and you let him—though you don’t know why.

You don’t know what you are thinking when you let him touch you, when you let him look at you with eyes that seemed to burn.

And then, when reason comes back to you, you rip your hand out of his wrist and grab his ear, twisting it until he hisses. “Do not touch me, skxawng.”

You let him go and flick his forehead before you continue on your path and step inside the council room. Once you are inside you see only see your dad and the Olo’eyktan.

“Dad I’m sorry-” you immediately started with an apology, attempting to start off on the right foot. Your dad raises his hand and cuts you off while giving you that look that you know means he’s pissed.

“Sit down.” He orders you, three of his four fingers curled while one points to the rattan mat beneath you. Even before you can sit he starts chewing you out, which you expected. “What the hell is wrong with you two? Stealing Zangke?!”

“Dad it was my fault-” “-it was a stupid prank-”

You and Lo’ak begin talking at the same time, speaking over one another as you both try to cover for the other. Your dad is clearly unimpressed and glances between you and your brother, and his jaw ticks with rising impatience. You know he wants to yell, you know he wants to call you two idiots and curse you out for causing problems when you’re supposed to be fitting in.

“You two idiots broke a casket of fermented wine, you stained the fibre of the marui-”

“-how did we get caught?” Lo’ak, hearing your dad’s voice, shifts to another related subject. “We were quiet-”

“We were not quiet, skxawng! You set off those stupid alarms-” you speak over Lo’ak, negating his claim that you were quiet by raising your own recollection of what has gotten you caught.

“Enough!” Your dad raises his voice, ending the argument between you and Lo’ak before it can grow. “Lo’ak go home and help your mother, you are grounded to the edge of the village, no further.”

“Yes sir.” Lo’ak bows his head and slinks back, passing by you as you remain under thin weight of the Olo’eyktan and your dad. With Lo’ak gone, your dad speaks up again and directs his attention on you, while you are perceiving the subtle shift of movement out of the corner of your eyes. Ao’nung has joined you, standing by your side where Lo’ak once was.

“You’re older, you should know better. We talked about this!” Your dad speaks with an air of a hiss at the edge of his words, although it’s what he doesn’t say that delivers more of an impactful message.

“Ao’nung is taking responsibility for distracting the watchmen of the Zangke storage marui, he has told me that he spoke to Lo’ak about this—.” As you fall silent, Tonowari takes over speaking, delivering the final judgement and doling out of your punishment.

“—he did not! It was my idea and Lo’ak’s—!”

“You promised to be on your best behaviour. What were you thinking?!” Your dad raises his voice, again, and asks you for a second time what you could have possibly been thinking.

You remain silent, because you have nothing to say, and when the back of Ao’nung’s fingers brush against yours, you don’t pull away.

“You and Ao’nung will be punished together. Taking care of the ilu and their calves for a month.” Tonowari looks toward his son, delivering the punishment that you will share, and waves you both off with his hand.

You retain your silence until you are out of the council room and into the open air again. Then, you turn toward Ao’nung had shoot him a hardened glance, your jaw tensing and your eyebrows furrowed.

You are pissed and he knows it but instead of trying to ease the situation, he reaches for you and tips your chin back. “See you bright and early tomorrow, she-devil.”