oh don't mind me, i'm just taking a break from reality

No guards stood at the gates. No crowd heralded your arrival. Only silence greeted you – and him. Aaron, the king of the dead, or as mortals called him – Hades, stood just beyond the threshold of his throne room, framed by the cold, flickering light of torches that burned with an unnatural blue flame. He was like a statue carved from midnight, his broad shoulders squared, his stance rigid. His dark suit was immaculate yet severe, absorbing the light around him, leaving only his eyes and their deep, fathomless pools of shadow.

He watched you as though your presence was the only thing anchoring him to this plane, as though the memory of you had been the sole force keeping him upright through the long months of spring and summer.

The shadows around him pulsed as you moved closer, swelling like dark waves lapping at the shore, coiling and retreating as if they, too, yearned to touch you. Yet his face remained a mask of control, his jaw was set, lips steady and eyes fixed on yours with an intensity that silenced every other force.

He did not move toward you. He never did. He waited, as he always had, with a patience that was both devotion and torment.

You crossed the distance in silence, your bare feet whispering against the stone. Words were unnecessary here. Every glance, every breath between you carried the weight of truths already understood, truths carved into the very fabric of this place. The air grew heavier as you approached, charged with the unspoken, with the ache of reunion.

When you stopped before him, close enough to feel the faint heat of his company, you saw the tension that thrummed through him. His hands, gloved in black leather, were clenched at his sides as if restraining a force too vast to unleash. Aaron was not a man ruled by desire; he was governed by discipline, by the iron will that held this realm together.

Yet tonight, beneath that unyielding exterior, something trembled, a fracture in the bedrock of his composure, a quiet plea that only you could hear.

His voice, when it came, was low, rough as gravel worn smooth by time. “You’re thinner,” he said, the words carrying a weight that made the air shiver.

You tilted your head, a small, knowing smile ghosting across your lips. “You’ve memorized my shape so well?”

His gaze didn’t waver, didn’t soften, but it burned with something deeper than longing. “I remember everything,” he said, his voice although steady was laced with an ache that echoed through the hollows of your chest. “Every curve. Every breath. Every silence you leave behind.”

Your hand rose, hesitant yet compelled, fingers brushing the sharp line of his jaw. It was not a touch of possession but of reverence, as if you were reaching for something sacred, something you had no right to claim yet could not resist.

He didn’t flinch, didn’t close his eyes, didn’t lean into your touch. He stood resolute, letting your fingers trace the contours of his face, letting your presence etch itself into the marrow of his being.

“You always watch me like that,” you murmured, your voice soft as the petals you’d left behind in the world above. “Like I’m a star you’re afraid will burn out if you look away.”

“You do,” he said, the words slipping from him, raw and unguarded. “Every year, you leave, and I am left to count the moments until you return.”

The admission hung between you, as heavy as the chains that bound the souls in this realm. His hand rose, the black leather of his glove was cool against your cheek. He never touched you bare unless you asked, as if he feared his unshielded touch might taint you, might bind you to this place too tightly. But the intent behind the gesture, the weight of his devotion, the quiet worship in his fingers, it was warmer than any sunlight you’d known above.

“Come closer,” he whispered, his voice fracturing like a stone under pressure. “Let me… let me hold you.”

Your breath caught, not in fear but in wonder. He never asked. Not like this. Not with such raw need trembling in his voice, it felt like a chorus of longing that had sung itself hoarse in the months you were gone. You stepped into him, and his arms enveloped you, carefully, as if you were a relic too fragile to hold too tightly. One gloved hand cradled the back of your head, his thumb brushing the tender skin beneath your ear, while the other pressed flat against your spine, anchoring you to him. He did not kiss you yet. Instead, he inhaled, deep and shuddering, as if your scent could rewrite the laws of eternity.

“Let me kiss you,” he murmured, his lips so close to your skin that the words felt like a brush of feathers. “Let me rest in you, just for this moment.”

Your throat tightened. Those words, they were not his alone. They were the echo of the wind in your springtime fields, the pull of your heart when you lay among the flowers, half alive without him. You pressed yourself closer, your hands fisting in the lapels of his coat, anchoring yourself to the only thing that had ever felt like home.

The world above was vibrant, blooming, alive, but no flower, no sunrise, had ever held you like this. No light had ever burned for you the way his silence did.

“I forget the sound of your voice when I’m gone,” you whispered against his shoulder, your breath warm against the fabric. “But I hear you in every shadow, in every peaceful moment.”

He exhaled a slow, ragged breath that seemed to unburden centuries from his chest. His lips pressed to the crown of your head, featherlight, a gesture so tender it felt like a vow. “I see you in everything,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “In the dark. In the stars. Even when they fade.”

In that moment, there were no titles, no crowns. No King of the Underworld, no Goddess of Spring. Only Aaron, a man aching to hold you for one more heartbeat than he was allowed, and you, a woman trembling under the weight of his devotion to you.

You lifted your face, and his lips found yours, a kiss that carried the weight of eons. It was not hungry, not desperate, but sorrowful, reverent as if he were memorizing the shape of your lips, the taste of your breath, savoring you before the cycle turned again.

You kissed him back, falling through time, through stone, through the endless ache of longing. The darkness of the Underworld had always been your home when he was in it, and in his arms, you felt whole again, despite what your mother might want.

When you parted, his voice was rough, pressed against your cheek. “Stay.”

It was not a command but a prayer.

You couldn’t answer, not yet. The taste of him lingered on your lips, a sacred hymn that alone could carry you through the months above. Instead, you kissed the corner of his mouth, your hands trembling as they threaded through his dark hair.

“I’ll leave again,” you said, your voice breaking.

“I know,” he replied, his eyes steady, unflinching, even as they burned with pain.

“But I’ll return.”

“I will wait.”

You pressed your forehead to his chest, and the air around you shifted, a subtle stirring that carried no scent of flowers, no echo of stars. Yet in the folds of your dress, in the rhythm of your shared breath, a sacred melody wove itself into the silence. It sang of wings long forgotten, of tears turned holy, of love that endured even in the absence of light.

And there, beneath the earth, you let yourself drift into his embrace, if only for a little while. So he could hold you. So he could carry the memory of you through the long months ahead.

So he could survive the parting.

Again.

You showed up in his reality without warning, your presence sudden and unexpected when you came to him in the Kinglor Forest, claiming that he was teaching you how to hunt. He even laughed in your face about it, bellowing loudly that even his ikran Zomey echoed in a similar sound.

He didn't have to think twice to know that it was Nefika who had put you up to it, so accustomed to her usual antics. She would do anything to irritate him, knowing full well she couldn't do it in the comforts of Hometree, the place he avoided the most.

All he wanted to do was soar the skies alone with Zomey. He had absolutely no interest teaching you anything, the whole concept of it so intensely boring and not at all what he wished to spend his time doing.

Still, he found himself giving in to you anyway, unwilling to admit that there was something positive in the intrigue he held about you. Itu simply convinced himself that the mystery of your identity and your lack of awareness merely gave him more of a chance to make fun of you for your rookie mistakes.

Suddenly you had Itu's heavy bow in your hands, drawing the string back and aiming at the target ahead. You looked over at him before you let the arrow fly, slightly nervous under his judgmental gaze. Despite your own jitters, you hit the target with surprising precision, moon eyed while a satisfied smile took over your lips.

"You can hit a static target at least." He chided as he stood beside you, catching the happy glint in your eyes that remained even with his sarcastic remark.

You didn't find him rude or off-putting even though he found amusement in teasing you, laughing along as you replied, "So what do I have to do to hit a moving target? Not everyone can be as skilled as you Itu, but I'll take it as a challenge to try."

Itu raised his eyebrows at you, begrudgingly drawn to the quick contrast in you, your gentle voice speaking words that exposed a fierce spirit he didn't expect, "You are right about one thing. It will be a challenge. Come, you have a lot to learn."

Eclipse was nearly approaching, the regular shade of blue that cascaded the sky slowly darkening and the transition of the plants' bioluminescence almost upon you. You had lost track of time exploring deep within the trees and brush of the Kinglor Forest, learning to track with your senses and discerning the signs of the sturmbeests who were just nearby.

Itu knew where the sturmbeests would be of course, purposefully straying you away to test the sharpness of your senses. You had caught onto his tricks rather quickly though, but you went along with his lessons anyway, eager to learn as much as you could.

When you had successfully tracked the sturmbeest herd, four of them at the shore of a river drinking water, you let a breath out, trying your best to expel your nerves as you drew your bow back from a distance.

"Now is not the time for hesitation." Itu spoke in your ear, deliberately trying to distract you.

"Be quiet. Your annoying voice might scare them away." You glared at him before letting go of the taut string.

Itu said nothing, his focus on the release of your arrow and his mouth agape as he hoped you would miss, the inherent need he felt to gloat so desperately wanting to be fulfilled.

But to his dismay, you managed to hit your target, the sturmbeest falling into the water with a large splash as its companions scattered back into the forest.

You ran toward the animal quickly and approaching it, you knelt down, placing a delicate hand on its neck, "Thank you for these gifts." You spoke with your eyes closed, feeling its life fade and return to the Great Mother.

When you opened your eyes, Itu was right beside you, his hands against the stomach of the sturmbeest and his eyes still closed, whispers of prayers coming out of his mouth and into the open air.

You let him finish his prayer before you took out the arrow, wiping the blood off with the edge of your shorts. Itu watched you, shaking his head in disgust, "I meant to ask earlier, but what are you wearing? I have never seen armor as ugly as yours."

You were wearing military-grade clothing, bland guerrilla gear that was clearly out of place, "This is the best I could do right now," You sighed, remembering Nefika say the same thing, the sight of you ghastly amidst her ornately decorated silken accessories and colorful garb.

Chuckling, he began carving out the meat from the sturmbeest, "Your best can be better."

"I'll make sure to tell Nefika you agree with her then." You beamed with satisfaction, smiling at him as he met your eyes.

Surrendering immediately, he refused, "No, please do not tell Nefika one thing. I do my best to avoid her as much as possible, even through the mention of my name."

Placing a hand on his shoulder, you let out another laugh, your eyes crinkling in the corners at the change in his attitude, "Relax, Itu. I'm only kidding. But try as you might, I feel Nefika will always have her ears open, even when she's not here."

He paused, finding himself amused again by you, disarmed by your laughter as his own erupted, "That is true. Nefika does have quite the hunger for gossip. But I would rather live my life in practice, rather than speak of things true or untrue for fun."

Shrugging, you disagreed, "All of us find joy in different things. You have a love for adventure and Nefika loves her clothes and gossip."

Itu put his knife down, turning his body toward you with a tilted head, his tone curious, "And what about you, Sarentu? What gives you joy?"

"What gives me joy?"

You thought for a moment, the spirit of the Forest seemingly livening with every breath as the bioluminescent glow awakened around you. Eclipse had finally come, beckoning the colors of each plant, the shore ebbing and flowing with receding shades of pink and green. You looked down at the arrow you still held in your hand and the heavy bow clasped around the other, then shifting your eyes to Itu, you couldn't help but smile seeing the dots on his face and body glow just as yours did—he was another one of The People teaching you the Na'vi ways, something that was no longer lost to you.

"Being here with you," The words left you rather carelessly as you looked all around in awe at the Forest's beauty.

Itu stilled, your words coming out like they were nothing as something in his chest stirred before he could stop it. It was an unwelcomed warmth that erupted so suddenly that he turned his face away from yours and back to the sturmbeest below him, chuckling as he brushed the feeling away, "Consider yourself lucky then that you've found company with me and not some of the boring folk who only want to stay at HomeTree."

"Well speaking of the boring folk of HomeTree, I have to go back now that we've finished our hunting lesson." You got up, wiping the dirt from your knees.

Itu stood up with you, his next words escaping without a second thought, "You don't need to go back to HomeTree right now. It is eclipse. Stay at my camp and you can go in the morning. Besides, don't you want to eat the sturmbeest you hunted?"

"Well, I have someone waiting for me to return after I come back from HomeTree, so I..." You began, but you stopped, noticing a slight pout on Itu's face.

But his pout faded away as quickly as you noticed it, a laugh replacing it, "Surely this someone who is waiting for you can wait one more day. I would not want to make you return in the night, no matter how capable you have proven to be."

You were caught off guard, crossing your arms with a raised eyebrow, "You give compliments with such attitude. You know Itu, if you simply enjoy being around me, you can just say that too."

Itu felt that unwelcomed feeling arise again inside of him, but he pushed it down deep as he scoffed, shrugging, "Do not be mistaken. I would rather be alone with Zomey. I am merely taking pity on you by saving you from a boring night with boring company."

You could sense that there was more to what he was saying, realizing that his relentless teasing was only a front. So, you simply surrendered to his request, going along with him with another chuckle, “Well then, thank you for saving me.”

Itu led the way as the two of you went back into the Forest. His camp was not too far from the water, the site nestled between two large trees and his resting spot being a small cave. Zomey was perched above the cave, waiting patiently for Itu to return before she felt comfortable to lay down atop the grass on the rock.

You stepped inside after Itu, his belongings placed around a firepit in the middle, "This is home for the week before I move on to another spot, somewhere near more Fortune's fruit most likely."

“Ah, that makes sense since it's her favorite, right?." You replied, watching as Itu began to prepare the fire, placing the kindling within the firepit then igniting it.

He had only mentioned that once to you, an instant smile forming on his face because you remembered, "That is right. The fruit is fitting for her personality."

"For both of you." The light jab making Itu laugh as he arranged a bed of rocks for the meat to be roasted on.

"For you as well." He paused, granting you his eyes as he looked over your figure in front of him, "There is more to you than meets the eye."

Leaning back, curiosity hung in the way he stared at you, his eyes lingering on you more than he meant to as he uttered a question you didn't hear at all as you heard a familiar voice in your comms, low and gruff.

"Tamtey? Can you hear me?"

Your eyes widened, your grin turning into a flat line as you placed a hand around the strange choker you had around your neck, "So'lek? Is everything alright?"

Itu was utterly confused, watching as you seemingly spoke into the air with no subject to catch them, commenting rather loudly with a smug grin, "I hope you are not so hungry from our hunting lesson you have begun hallucinating! The meat is almost ready."

"Who is speaking?" So'lek emphasized every letter, concern and confusion fusing into one hearing Itu's unfamiliar voice.

"It's Itu." Your hands were on your comms as you bellowed in laughter replying to Itu, "I am hungry, but not hallucinating. I am speaking to someone through this...device in my ears. It is hard to explain, but—"

"Who is Itu?" So'lek interrupted, his tone coming off slightly insulted as he heard your laughter in his ear, "It is eclipse. I will come get you. I am with Iley now." You heard Iley's caw amidst So'lek's voice, his inflections of concern obvious in how fast he talked.

"He has been teaching me how to hunt all day. I am staying at his camp for the night since it is so late." Explaining the situation with ease, you thought that So’lek would respond right away, but there was a beat between his next words.

“So’lek? Are you still there?”

“Teaching you how to hunt? Had I known this was what Nefika had planned for you, I would have just taught you myself.” His voice, still low, came out more aggravated than usual, a tone of voice you hadn’t heard before.

Reassuring him, your voice remained calm and gentle as it usually did, chuckling lightly, “I am about to eat the sturmbeest I hunted now. And when I return tomorrow morning, you can teach me how to hunt your way."

"So you are not returning to HomeTree tonight?" So'lek prodded further.

"I'm at Itu's camp." You repeated, your response too nonchalant for So'lek's liking as he let another beat pass, his surprise taking away his ability to speak for a moment.

The silence made the air feel awkward, despite So'lek not being there and you made eye contact with Itu from across the fire, grinning nervously, "So'lek?" You repeated.

But Itu cut the silence, joking loudly, “Let me guess, this is the someone waiting for you to return? Tell him to relax. A woman with a brave heart like yours will be fine out here. And besides you are under my watch. No harm can come to you when I am by your side."

Like an electric shock to his ears, So'lek felt irritated hearing Itu's voice instead of yours, forced to listen to that noise rather than you. He had missed hearing it all day, the gentleness that always seemed to calm the turmoil in his heart.

"I am alright, So'lek. I will see you tomorrow." You reassured him again, and you could hear Iley caw again, her wings flapping amidst So'lek's voice.

He felt relief knowing that you were well and safe, the sound of your voice calming him like it always did, despite him wanting to see you in person. But it did not stop him from still showing his agitation, "If you would rather spend your time with Itu, I will not get in your way. But rest assured, tomorrow I do not intend to share my time with you. Good night Tamtey.”

So'lek was never a man of many words, his reaction wholly uncharacteristic as you said one more good night to him. He merely grunted in response, saying nothing more as you heard Iley's caw once more and the flap of her wings.

"He is angry you are not coming home?" Itu jested, smirking as he portioned off a piece of the cooked meat for you.

"So'lek is used to our usual routine. I realize now that I had forgotten about it when we were out in the Forest." You sighed, taking the meat from Itu as he handed it to you.

"Ah, so this So'lek is forgettable?" Itu kept his lighthearted tone, unable to contain another fit of laughter.

"That's not what I mean." Taking a bite of the meat, the spices filling your nose with their hearty aroma, you shook your head, "Most of the time we are fighting Sky People. It has been a while since I have been out in the Forest enjoying the Great Mother's gifts."

Itu let his gaze linger on you again, warmth filling his chest as he watched you happily eat the sturmbeest roast. Still, he felt denial within him, misguided in his thoughts as he attributed that warmth to the pride he felt teaching you.

"Well, should you ever want to break routine again, you know who to go to," He began, inching forward to sit closer to you, "Although you are not as good a hunter as me, I see...great potential in you."

This time, Itu's voice did not hold a cavalier tone, soft instead as he slowed his words. And you received his message with a grateful nod, smiling widely at him while your voice matched the gentleness he suddenly procured, "Just you wait and see, I am ready for your challenges any time. One of these days, you will be surprised by me."

-

When you returned to HomeTree the next day, Itu came with you, offering you a ride on Zomey to make your trip back quicker.

Touching down on the ikrans' landing, Nefika was already there with the other weavers that were seated. She was waiting there all morning for you to return, standing with other weavers who were completing their work outside in the morning light.

She was speaking to them, but the sound of Zomey from the distance made her ears twitch and looking in the direction of her familiar caws, she stopped talking mid-sentence, staring intently with her mouth hung open as she watched Itu help you dismount, taking your hand into his with a smile she had never quite seen before.

Not wasting any time, Nefika abandoned her previous conversation to greet you both, her mischievous tone escaping her as she said aloud, "I am surprised you still know the way home, Itu! Or perhaps you let our Sarentu lead the way?"

You touched your forehead with your fingers, extending your proper greeting as she did the same, "It is good to see you again, Nefika."

Observing you up and down, she crossed her arms, her facial expression satisfied, but expectant as she raised her eyebrows, "If I recall, I sent you out into the Forest early morning, Sarentu. Surely, you are not so bad at hunting that you both stayed up all night." She paused, feigning a casual curiosity, "What else did you do?"

"Besides have my clothes mocked by Itu?" You glared at him playfully, but he only returned an innocent smile back at you.

Nefika watched Itu's reactions, sensing the energy between the two of you, and taking your hand into hers, she tilted her head, prying again once more, "Oh our Sarentu! You worry me for staying out so late! And I was not the only one looking for you. Your dear So'lek came to HomeTree last night."

She was baiting Itu on purpose, watching for a slight twitch in the lip, any hint of being affected when she mentioned So'lek while she listened to you speak.

"So'lek came all the way here?" Recalling your conversation in your comms, you didn't know that So'lek had already stopped by HomeTree when he called you, your heart sinking at the realization, "I didn't know that."

Right to sense that Itu would be affected, Nefika caught the quickest shift as Itu clenched his jaw for a moment. Satisfied, she added, "But I reassured him that Itu is a fine hunter and a fine man as well! You would not be in harms way. So, he returned back home."

Looking out at the horizon, you sighed, "Thank you both for everything, but I should return home as well."

"I will take you to where home is for you. It will be faster on Zomey." Itu insisted, already looking behind at her.

"It's okay Itu! You already took me here and you didn't have to. I know you want to go explore and fly on your own. I can go alone from here." You refused, walking toward the back entrance before Itu took hold of your hand.

"Where is it? You cannot refuse if I am already on the way there anyway." He coaxed.

Pointing northwest, you explained "It's above a waterfall in the Dyers' bowl."

"Then our journeys cross. I must pass Dyers Bowl to get to Waterway Valley." Itu boldly stated, confident as he waited for your approval.

There was a faster way to Waterway Valley that did not go through Dyers Bowl at all, but Nefika maintained her position, highly amused as she watched Itu unabashedly lie to you. In her mind, she was praising herself for what was unfolding before her. Never did she think she would ever catch Itu in such a state, but she fully intended to take advantage of this newfound project of hers, taking you two both by the shoulder with affectionate fervor.

"Please Sarentu! Go with Itu! Besides, you would not want to make So'lek wait too long."

"You're right. Thank you again." Again, you spoke from your heart, oblivious to her true intentions.

"But you must come back soon. I've already begun to design your new clothes!" Nefika called out as you and Itu both walked toward Zomey.

"Of course. I will come back a week from today then!" You were already behind Itu, mounted on Zomey who was waiting for Itu to tell her what to do, her eyes already on the sky.

You figured you would surprise So'lek, not telling him that you were coming. You waved goodbye to Nefika one last time before Zomey took off, flapping her wings as she gained altitude, higher and higher until she was above the tops of the Kinglor Forest trees.

As you rode together, Itu was determined to make the flight memorable, switching between speeds and guiding your trajectory. Then when you approached closer, you instructed him past the trees and up the waterfall until you saw the familiar flag that hung on the edge of the base.

Landing Zomey near the shallow part of the water, Itu observed the base, the stories he heard of Sky People metal no longer stories as it became tangible in front of his eyes, "This is home?"

"This is—"

"Tamtey!"

Turning around, you already knew who it was, your grin widening, "Sorry I'm late."

Walking over, So'lek started out smiling, but it faltered when he noticed that you had not come alone, Itu close beside you with one hand on his ikran's head, "And you decided to bring the reason you are late here?"

Acknowledging him, Itu greeted So'lek properly, but maintained a smug smirk, "And you must be So'lek? Forgive me. I heard you were concerned for her safety, so I figured I would ease your mind."

"So you are Itu." So'lek clenched his jaw, reluctantly polite as he replied gruffly, placing an affectionate hand on your shoulder, holding your gaze with fondness, "Thank you for bringing her back to me."

"For now." Itu let out, amused as he watched his comment harden So'lek's soft gaze on you immediately, the smile he once had thinning into a frown, his agitation brewing as he glared.

And as Itu mounted Zomey again, his eyes lingering on you again, he thought about what you had told him in the cave. In truth, it only took one day and you were already surprising him.

Because suddenly, Itu found himself ready to break routine for you.

-

Author's Note:

Oel ngati kameie,

Nefika is sooooooooo funny. She really is such a gossip queen.

If you're here from my TikTok, hi! This is just part 1! If you liked this first part, tell me what you think in the comments!! :)

It’s been a week now, seven long nights and days. There was no contact, no warmth shared between you and So’lek

You always counted time differently when he’s not around by the campfire, you barely even finished your favorite meals cause your eyes only drifted back to the darkness between the tall trees.

Tonight though, the forest was calm and quiet, you were sitting near the river on a hard rock with Teylan, your feet nudged the dust on the floor as the small fire crackled nearby. The light danced on the leaves, soft and greenish, and somewhere above, the canopy hides the stars that shimmered a sense of comfort and familiarity.

Teylan plopped down beside you with zero grace, nearly missing the rock.

“Oof—okay, wow. This rock is smaller than I remember,” he muttered.

And here you found yourself not reacting at all at his usual silliness.

He looked at you and squinted a little “you’ve been staring at the fire for a long time now, what’s the deal?”

You sighed softly “im just thinking”

“oh..” he nodded seriously, then leaned a little closer “about rocks? Or him”

You glanced at him from the corner of your eyes.

“Him I guess..”

Teylan’s face lighted up like he just solved a very hard puzzle. “Ah yeah that explains it”

You looked over at him, as he grabbed a stick and started drawing random shapes in the dirt, literally none of them made sense, circles and lines, something that might be an animal or maybe a shoe ?.

“its only been a week,” he said, reassuring you but in a very wrong way. “That’s basically nothing, I once didn’t had my favorite knife for three weeks and I was totally fine.”

You raised an eyebrow not believing what he just said “you cried.”

“okay but emotionally ? I definitely grew up”

A small smile tugged at your lips before you can stop it.

“he’ll be back,” Teylan continued, nodding confidently to himself. “So’lek is like… very good at surviving, and being quiet, oh and doing that intense weird cold staring thing”

He paused, thinking “actually maybe too quiet, have you considered he just forgot how to use the comm?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised”

“See? Also if he doesn’t come back soon, I can teach you how to whittle little animals, im bad at it but its fine.”

You exhaled a soft laugh, finally looking away from the fire.

There was a comfortable silence between you two, the river hummed quietly now as you were about to say something you heard a sound.

Crack.

Your head snapped up before you even realized it, your eyes scanning the dark between the trees while teylan noticed it instantly.

“Oh” he said looking around “ that’s either a predator or your melancholic staring finally worked”

You rolled your eyes as you stood up slowly, your heart picking up pace as you approached the shadow.

And then So’lek stepped into the firelight.

His hair was pulled back loosely, a few strands fallen out. One shoulder was smeared with dirt, the other one marked with faint scratches and paint. His chest rose slowly as he breathed, calm and steady. His eyes scanned the area out of habits before finally landing on you.

Teylan blinked.

“Oh..”

So’lek’s gaze softened instantly, his posture easing like he finally allowed himself to be casual.

“Took you long enough,” you said crossing your arms.

Before he could respond, Teylan cleared his throat loudly, stepping in front of you “hi, hello, welcome back from not dying, we were kind of worried uhh mostly her. I was medium worried, do you know comm are made to communicate with other people?”

You looked at Teylan throwing bombs at him, as so’lek raised his eyebrows “you are loud”

“Yeah..” he nodded “I’ve been told”

You crossed your arms, suddenly very aware of how fast your heart was beating. “You’re late”

So’lek titled his head slightly “a week”

“And you even counted huh?”

For a second you thought he might smile, he didn’t. But his eyes wore that softened and that was worse.

“Come,” he said quietly.

“Where?”

Instead of answering, he reached out and took your hand. You barely had time to react before he pulled you gently into the trees.

Branches blurred past, leaves brushing your arms, the forest opening for him like it knew exactly who he was. You struggled to keep up until he finally slowed near a quiet clearing, hidden and green, glowing softly with bioluminescence plants.

Up close you could see the exhaustion in his eyes, the dried blood on his arm, and the tension he hadn’t let go of yet.

You swallowed, checking him out “you okay?”

He nodded softly “I am now.”

You didn’t thought twice, you stepped closer and for a moment neither of you spoke. Then so’lek leaned down slightly resting his forehead against yours.

His hand brushed against your cheek, as his eyes looked deep into yours, and finally his warm lips pressed against yours. The kiss was so gentle, also slow like he was afraid of breaking something previous.

His hand traveled on your hips, grounding you as your hands cupped his jaw, deepening the kiss even more.

“I missed you so much” you whispered against his lips.

“I did too” he replied, before devouring your lips again.

His warm tongue brushed against yours, the slow tango of your mouths made your heart beats even faster.

And when he pulled back, he guided you to lie down on the soft grass. Your hands hooped around his neck as you brought him down on top of you, his body pressed against yours as he kissed you again.

“Lemme make it up to you..” he whispered against your neck, as he peppered kisses all along it.

“No please.. let me do it,” you murmured before sitting down, guiding him to lean back against a rock.

You sat on his lap as you kissed him again, your hands traveled down his firm chest, feeling his heartbeat, then sliding to his abdomens, where the warm muscles tensed by the touch of your fingertips.

You cupped his jaw, looking at his eyes as you untied the lace of his loincloth, you kept your gaze on his while you gently traced the shape of his hard member with the tip of your fingers. He closed his eyes instinctively before letting a low grunt when your hand finally wrapped around his length.

“O Eywa..” he whimpered softly, as you kissed his jaw, your hand not stopping its movement. You felt him pulsing in your palm as you stroked him, alternating between fast and slow, you looked at the little bioluminescence freckles that englobed his shaft, plumping in your hand as you pleasured him.

“Look at you..” you said, voice low, only for him to hear. The state of desperation he was in right now, only made your core aching for him.

“Txantsan oe, yawne..” he grunted again as you pulled your lips back from his neck. You kissed down his collarbone, chest and slowly licked a long stripe of his abdomen, feeling the muscles under your tongue, you licked all the way down until you reached your desired destination.

You didn’t waste time as you took his tip into your mouth, gently sucking on it. You felt his toes curling as your hand stayed on his lap massaging them softly. His hand dropped to your head as you kept your devious ministration, feeling him pulsing against your tongue. And oh.. he tasted soo good, not because it’s sweet or anything but because it was his scent, and it made you crazy.

Your movement turned faster as you took him all in, trying to fit all you can in your mouth, he was a whimpering mess at this point. His head was titled back, his breath heavy. And all you could hear was inaudible murmurs from his lips.

“I’m close—” he groaned, spreading his legs a little more while looking down at you working on him, your eyes met his, and that’s how he loosed it.

With a last whimper — that sounded more like a whiny moan, he came. You kept working on it though. The way he looked was the best view you could’ve ever see. His breath eased as you pulled back from him, getting on his lap again.

“You missed me that much..?” He asked softly, still breathless as his hands hold your hips in place.

You simply nodded before kissing him again, letting him taste himself against your tongue. The kiss became heated as your core brushed against his bare length, that you purposefully rubbed against, the fabric of your loincloth was totally soaked as you kept moving against it, seeking pleasure from it. And so’lek noticed.

He gently took your fiber top off, letting his hand slide down your right breast before leaning and taking one bud into his mouth, sucking on it gently.

“Oh ma So’lek—” you closed your eyes as he nibbled at your hard nipple, suckling, and biting it gently. You kept grinding on his length as he moved to the other bud, giving it the same attention.

You reached back for your kuru, and his hands were already there, guiding his near yours. His forehead pressed against yours as you made tsaheylu. Feeling the warmth, love and desire for each other washing over you.

He kissed your cheek softly as he caressed your whole body, his hand traveled from your waist to your hips, admiring you like the most beautiful creature ever.

“You’re so beautiful paskalin..” he whispered gently, his voice calm and genuine. You caressed his cheek softly, and pressed a kiss on his nose.

“I need you—” you spilled out, feeling the need to get naked and vulnerable physically but mentally as well, letting him see through you completely.

He smiled gently before kissing your jaw, playing with the straps of your loincloth, and when it was gone your warmth pressed against his length. You both stayed here just enjoying the presence of each other.

And then your core enveloped him slowly, his forehead pressed against yours, as his fulness stuffed you gently. You both gasped when you moved your hips against his. The thrusts were more intimate that way, feeling your bodies molding into one as you rocked your cunt against his aching member.

“So good—” you moaned lowly as he stroked your back with one hand, as the other grounded your hips to guide your movement.

You moved back and forth agaisnt him, his mouth crashing agaisnt yours while the delicious frictions under you was making you weak in the knees. He kissed you senselessly, it was less gentle then earlier, it’s more primal. All you could hear was your whimpers and moans merging together.

Your movement fastened as you found yourself riding your highs. The bond that was attached to you made everything even more intense.

You moaned softly as he hit your sweet spot, your hands hopped around his neck as you clung to him.

“So’lek—” your plea made him stroke your back even gentler, his movement became frantic, every thrust was a path forward to your highs.

“You’re doing so good yawne, keep going I’m here” his little praise made your cunt clench around him. causing him to slip a grunt, he was never shy about the noises he made and you loved it. “Im here just for you..”

Your hips started drawing movement on him, writing his name with it, and with every letter he would let a loud grunt out. You bit your lips as you felt that familiar bundle of heat warmer.

“Ma so’lek I’m—” you moaned a last time before reaching your highs, clinging to him as you still felt him pulsing inside of you. And with the way your needy cunt clenched around him, it took him around four seconds before reaching his own high as well. He kept you close while you hugged him, sharing warmth as you breathed in, his hand rubbing your back again. You seeked reassurance from him, and you got it.

He held your chin, making you look at him.

“You did so good Nì’aw” he praised you one last time before placing a soft kiss on your lips. You smiled softly as he pulled you down near that rock, holding you against his muscular and comforting body.

His hand soothed the burning skin between your thighs, as you peppered kisses along his jaw and drew hearts on his chest.

“Get some sleep, you just came back from your mission, you’re probably tired.” You whispered softly.

“Yeah I am, come here” he pulled you even closer as you fell asleep in his arms.

What he’d first noticed was how you always seemed to be trying to get his attention. Either by calling him names, making fun of his ikran’s riding skills, or finding anything you could comment on. At first, he thought nothing of it, assuming it was simply your way of filling the silence, restless youthful energy with nowhere else to go.

You were Sarentu. Curiosity came with the name.

Besides, he told himself, you treated everyone the same way. Loud, fearless, unfiltered. There was no reason to think you meant more by it.

And even if you did…

He shut that thought down before it could settle.

He had taken it upon himself to teach you. Having known the silence left behind by a fallen clan, he could not stand to watch other people walk the world without roots or memory. He taught you the ways of the Na’vi as he had once been taught, carefully, deliberately, with respect for what had been lost.

You were not just students to him. You were a reminder.

Of what had been taken.

And of what still needed protecting.

So’lek kept his distance.

Or at least, he tried to.

———————-

You noticed.

And instead of pulling away, you tried harder.

You said his name more often than necessary, always with that slight lift in your voice that made him turn before he could stop himself. You stayed closer during patrols, matched his pace even when the path widened enough to give him space.

When he corrected your form, you exaggerated the mistake, just enough to make him look twice. When he pretended not to hear you, you spoke louder, never disrespectful, only persistent.

It wasn’t defiance.

It was curiosity sharpened by attention withheld.

He noticed too.

And every time he did, he reminded himself that distance was not cruelty. It was protection.

Still, the effort it took not to respond weighed heavier with every passing day.

Then he made a mistake.

It was small. Small enough that no one else would have noticed.

You had stumbled on loose roots during training, more annoyed than hurt, and before you could regain your footing his hand was on your arm, firm, steady, familiar. He caught you easily, as if he had been ready for it.

Too ready.

The moment stretched.

His grip did not loosen right away. His thumb pressed unconsciously into your skin, grounding you in a way that felt instinctive rather than deliberate. When he realized what he was doing, he pulled back as if burned.

“Be careful,” he said, voice too controlled, gaze already turned away.

But it was enough.

Enough to tell you that you hadn’t imagined the distance. Or the hesitation. Or the way his attention sharpened when he thought you weren’t looking.

He had felt it too.

And that knowledge settled quietly in your chest, warm, dangerous, undeniable.

He said nothing after that.

Training continued, the rhythm familiar, the forest settling back into itself as if the moment had never happened. His instructions were precise, his tone steady, but he no longer stood as close as before.

You didn’t comment on it.

You pushed harder instead.

You took risks you knew he’d notice. Longer jumps, sharper turns, movements just reckless enough to draw his attention without crossing into danger. When you landed cleanly, you didn’t look back right away. You waited.

Sometimes you felt his gaze on you.

Sometimes you didn’t.

Either way, you never called it out.

Later, as the others drifted away and the forest dimmed into its quiet glow, you stayed behind under the pretense of gathering your things. You moved slower than necessary, aware of him nearby, aware of the space he kept between you.

You wondered, briefly, what would happen if you closed it.

The thought made your chest tighten.

Confidence had always come easily to you in other things. Hunting. Training. Survival. Romance was different. Romance came with the risk of being seen, and worse, of being turned away.

So you said nothing.

You brushed past him instead, close enough that your arm nearly grazed his, close enough that you felt the pause in his breathing even though he did not move.

You walked on as if you hadn’t noticed.

Behind you, he remained still.

And for the first time, distance felt less like protection, and more like something he was losing control of.

And so it went on.

Longer than you had expected.

Days folded into weeks, weeks into seasons shaped by conflict and rebuilding, by victories that never came without cost. You learned the land as it revealed itself to you, patiently, reluctantly, and you learned yourself alongside it. What it meant to be Sarentu, still standing in a world that had tried to erase you.

Through all of it, he remained close. Not beside you, not quite, but never far. He taught when teaching was needed, watched when words were unnecessary, kept his distance with a care that never felt accidental.

And you did not speak of it.

Not to anyone. Not in confidence, not in jest. Whatever lived between you stayed unnamed, held carefully behind your ribs. You imagined the concern it might draw, the quiet warnings dressed as kindness. Someone would tell you that you were young, that admiration could be mistaken for something deeper. Someone would remind you of his age, his role, the lines that existed whether you acknowledged them or not.

And Ri’nela…

You trusted her. You always had. But you feared the softness that might enter her voice, the way she might urge caution, tell you that you deserved someone unburdened by responsibility, someone who could meet you without hesitation. Even if she would never forbid it, the thought was enough to keep you silent.

So you carried it alone.

Quietly. Carefully.

You teased him when it felt safe. You tested nothing you could not retreat from. You learned when to push and when to wait. Confidence came easily to you in other things, training, survival, leadership, but this felt different. This felt fragile.

And then, after the fighting eased, after the first chapter of the Sarentu’s return had been written in loss and perseverance, something shifted.

Not all at once. Not enough to name.

Just enough to feel.

The distance he kept no longer felt steady.

And for the first time, it seemed less like protection, and more like something that could not be held much longer.

——————-

The shift came on a night meant for celebration.

Fires burned brighter than usual, their glow reflected in beads of color and painted skin. Laughter carried easily through the clearing, voices rising and falling with the rhythm of drums and song. The air smelled of smoke, sweetness, and fermented fruit passed freely from hand to hand.

You stayed near the edge at first, watching. It felt strange to celebrate after everything, after loss so fresh it still lingered beneath the joy, but the others welcomed it anyway. Survival, they said, was worth honoring.

You accepted a cup when it was offered. Then another.

The warmth settled low in your chest, loosening something you hadn’t realized you’d been holding so tightly. You laughed more easily. Moved more freely. The night felt softer for it.

He noticed.

You could tell by the way his attention kept finding you through the crowd, drawn back no matter how deliberately he turned away. He stood apart, as he often did, watchful, restrained, but the noise and closeness left fewer places to retreat.

When someone pulled you into the circle of dancers, you went without hesitation. Your movements were unpracticed but fearless, laughter slipping free as you stumbled and recovered, letting the rhythm guide you instead of discipline.

You caught his gaze then.

He looked away too late.

Later, much later, you found yourself beside him without quite remembering how. The crowd pressed close, voices overlapping, shoulders brushing. Someone handed you another cup. You drank, then passed it to him without thinking.

For a moment, he hesitated.

Then he took it.

The silence between you felt different here, less deliberate, more fragile. He stood closer than he had in weeks, close enough that you could feel the warmth of him through the movement around you.

When someone bumped into you from behind, it was his hand that steadied you. Firm. Familiar. He did not pull away right away.

The world did not stop.

The drums did not falter. The laughter did not quiet. But something in the space between you shifted, unmistakable and dangerous in its subtlety.

You were suddenly aware of how close he stood. Of the warmth at your side, solid and grounding. Of his hand still at your arm, steady where the crowd jostled and swayed.

You wanted.

Not recklessly. Not foolishly.

You wanted closeness.

The kind that came without explanation. The kind that didn’t demand words or promises, only presence. You wanted to lean into the space he occupied, to rest your head against his shoulder just once, to feel anchored to something older and steadier than the chaos still echoing in your chest.

The wanting surprised you with its intensity.

You had faced danger without fear. You had faced loss without breaking. But this quiet longing felt far more dangerous than either.

You shifted slightly, just enough that your arm brushed his. The contact was brief, accidental in appearance only.

He inhaled sharply.

His hand tightened, not pulling you closer, not pushing you away. Just holding.

You did not look at him.

If you did, you feared you would not look away.

When the song ended and the crowd shifted, you found yourself reluctant to move. As if stepping back would mean admitting how much you had wanted to stay.

When he finally let go, the absence felt immediate. Sharp.

You forced yourself to breathe. To smile. To rejoin the noise as if nothing had changed.

But something had.

You had tasted closeness now.

And the space he kept no longer felt merely frustrating.

It felt unbearable.

And then the night ended.

One by one, the fires dimmed. Laughter softened into murmurs, then into silence as people drifted away toward rest. The celebration loosened its hold on the clearing, leaving behind smoke, embers, and the quiet weight of everything that had not been said.

You walked back with him.

Not together, not deliberately, but your paths aligned, footsteps falling into an unspoken rhythm that felt too familiar to be coincidence. The alcohol had dulled the edge of your thoughts, but not enough to quiet the awareness thrumming beneath your skin.

You were careful now.

Careful not to drift too close. Careful not to test the space again while the night still lingered in your blood. Wanting closeness was one thing. Being shut down for it was another.

He said your name once, low and steady, as if grounding himself as much as you.

You looked at him.

Only for a moment.

His expression was unreadable in the low light, controlled, composed, but strained in a way you had learned to recognize. He stopped walking. You did too, heart tightening as the distance between you stretched and held.

“You should rest,” he said.

Not unkindly. Not coldly.

Carefully.

You nodded, swallowing the words that rose instinctively to your tongue. Confidence deserted you here, in the quiet aftermath, where rejection would echo louder than it ever could in celebration.

“Good night,” you said instead.

He inclined his head. “Good night.”

You turned away before you could hesitate.

Behind you, he did not follow.

And yet you felt him there. Standing still. Watching. Carrying the same weight you were.

The closeness you had tasted lingered long after the warmth faded, sharper now for having been withdrawn.

Whatever had shifted could not be undone.

And whatever came next would demand more restraint than either of you had left to give.

Morning came too soon.

The camp stirred gently, light filtering through leaves still heavy with dew. Voices were low, movements unhurried, the kind of quiet that followed a night spent letting go. You woke with the dull ache of exhaustion, and the sharper awareness of everything that had happened.

Or hadn’t.

The warmth from the celebration was gone, leaving something tighter behind. You sat up slowly, grounding yourself in routine. Breathe. Stretch. Focus. Confidence was easier when there were tasks to fill your hands.

You told yourself it would feel the same once you saw him.

It didn’t.

He was already awake, already moving with purpose, speaking to others with the same calm authority he always carried. From a distance, nothing had changed. He looked composed. Untouched by the night before.

And that hurt more than you expected.

You hesitated, just briefly, before approaching. The space he kept yesterday felt wider now, deliberate in a way it hadn’t been before. When his gaze finally found you, it was steady, but careful. As if he were measuring something he could no longer ignore.

“You’re up early,” he said.

His voice was neutral. Controlled.

You nodded. “Didn’t sleep much.”

He paused. Just long enough to notice. Not long enough to comment.

“We’ll train later,” he said instead. “When you’ve rested.”

The words were familiar. The tone was not.

You smiled, easy and practiced, even as your chest tightened. “I’m fine.”

He studied you for a moment, your posture, your eyes, the way you held yourself together. Then he looked away first.

“See that you are,” he replied.

And just like that, he was gone.

The absence settled heavier than the night before.

You hadn’t imagined it. The closeness. The hesitation. The way his restraint had wavered just enough to be felt. But daylight demanded distance again, and he answered it without question.

You exhaled slowly.

Confidence didn’t disappear. It just faltered.

Not because you regretted wanting him, but because wanting him meant accepting that he might never choose you back.

Still, as you watched him move through the camp, aware of you even when he refused to look your way, one thing remained painfully clear.

Whatever had shifted last night had not faded with the dawn.

It had only grown sharper.

It didn’t help that he was handsome.

You stopped the thought before it could fully form, as if naming it might make it worse.

But you knew it anyway. Everyone did. So’lek drew attention without trying. The way he carried himself, quiet and unyielding. The sharp lines of his face, softened only when he thought no one was looking. The stillness that made others lean in, instinctively aware they were standing in the presence of something dangerous and deliberate.

You had seen the looks.

Na’vi lingering too long in conversation. Smiles offered carefully, testing. Curiosity disguised as respect. It never turned into anything, not openly, but the possibility of it lingered in a way that made your chest tighten unexpectedly.

You told yourself it shouldn’t matter.

You had no claim. No right to wonder.

And yet, the thought crept in anyway. That there might be someone else. Someone older. Someone whose path aligned more easily with his. Someone who did not stand at the beginning of everything, still burning with unfinished anger and unfinished grief.

You had heard the story once, only fragments of it. A woman he might have settled beside, had the world not been torn open. Someone he could have chosen, if he had not chosen vengeance instead.

You did not resent her.

If anything, the thought made you ache in a quieter way. He had been offered peace once and turned away from it, not because he didn’t want it, but because letting go had felt like betrayal.

You would never ask that of him.

And that, perhaps, was what frightened you most.

Not that there might be someone else, but that he might look at you and assume you wanted what she had once represented. That he might think closeness would come with expectation, with the hope that he would lay his weapons down, choose stillness, choose something gentler than the path he was still walking.

You didn’t.

You had your own battles left unfinished. The RDA still cast its shadow, and you could not allow it to stretch any further across Pandora. There were things you needed to see through, anger you had not yet learned how to release.

You were not looking to be settled.

But you feared he might believe otherwise. That being with you would mean distraction, softness, a pull away from vengeance before he was ready to let it go.

You did not want to be that.

So you kept your distance, even as the wanting lingered.

Days passed.

Not quietly, but steadily. Training resumed its familiar rhythm, patrols filled the hours, and the camp settled back into the work of survival and rebuilding. On the surface, everything returned to normal.

Between you and him, nothing was spoken.

He remained careful. You remained observant. The closeness of the celebration was not repeated, but neither was it forgotten. When your paths crossed, there was a pause, a fraction of a second where something unspoken passed between you before discipline reasserted itself.

You noticed the way he adjusted his route when he saw you first. The way his voice softened when he corrected you, even as he kept his distance. The way he listened more closely than he used to, as if weighing every word you said.

You did not test it.

Not now.

Confidence returned where it always did, in motion, in purpose. You threw yourself into your training, into the work that needed doing. The RDA was still out there. Pandora still needed defending. Whatever lived between you and him would have to wait.

But sometimes, when the day grew long and the forest quieted, you felt his gaze on you from across the clearing.

And sometimes, when you looked back, he did not turn away.

Nothing changed all at once.

But nothing stayed the same either.

________________

It happened without warning.

An RDA patrol pushed farther than it should have, cutting through territory that should have been quiet. The alarm came too late to be gentle about it. Shouts, movement, the sharp crack of weapons tearing through the forest’s breath.

You didn’t hesitate.

You never did.

You moved on instinct, heart pounding, body already in motion as training took over. The world narrowed to sound and movement, to cover and return fire, to the fierce, burning clarity that came with knowing exactly what you were fighting for.

You didn’t see him at first.

You felt him.

His presence cut through the chaos, unmistakable, grounding. A hand at your shoulder, a sharp command in your ear, guiding you out of a line of fire just before the impact split the tree where you’d been standing.

Then it went wrong.

A misstep. A blast too close. The ground vanished beneath you, pain blooming hot and blinding as you hit hard. The sounds around you blurred, muffled by the ringing in your ears.

You tried to push yourself up.

You couldn’t.

He was there instantly.

Not careful. Not distant. Not restrained.

His hands were on you, checking, steadying, shielding your body with his own as if the rest of the world had ceased to exist. His voice broke through the haze, low, urgent, threaded with something raw you had never heard from him before.

“Stay with me,” he said.

Not an order.

A plea.

The fighting moved on around you, the danger pushed back by others, but he did not leave. He stayed crouched over you, breath uneven as he assessed the damage with hands he did not try to steady.

“You’re hurt,” he said, and the words sounded like an accusation he was leveling at himself.

You managed a breathless laugh. “I’ve been worse.”

His jaw clenched. “Do not joke.”

He lifted you then, without asking, without hesitation, holding you close against his chest as he carried you away from the smoke and noise. You felt the strength in him, the tension barely contained, the way his grip tightened as if he were afraid to loosen it even for a moment.

When the fighting finally moved away, when others reached you, voices overlapping, hands taking over, you were barely aware of it. Pain pulsed through you in dull waves, the world slipping in and out of focus as adrenaline drained too quickly from your limbs.

You felt him shift, sensed the space opening between you before you could see it.

Panic flared, sharp and immediate.

You reached out without thinking.

Your fingers caught in the fabric at his wrist, clumsy and weak, but insistent. Grounding. The way one reaches for something solid when the world won’t stay still.

He froze.

You weren’t trying to pull him closer. You weren’t asking for anything at all. You just didn’t want him to leave. Not yet. Not while everything still hurt and nothing felt real.

His breath stuttered.

For a heartbeat, he stayed exactly where he was. Close enough that you could feel the tension in him, the way his control held by threads already frayed. His other hand hovered, uncertain, before settling back at your shoulder, steady again, protective despite himself.

He did not look at you.

He did not say your name.

But he didn’t pull away either.

Only when others insisted, when the moment demanded movement and reason, did he carefully loosen your grip, guiding your hand back to your chest as if afraid of hurting you again.

He rose then, turning away too quickly, already retreating behind orders and motion and distance.

You watched him go through the blur, your body aching, your mind slow but certain of one thing.

Whatever had driven him to you in that instant had not been duty alone.

And whatever he was running from now, it wasn’t the danger.

______________

You woke slowly.

Not all at once, but in pieces.

The steady hum came first. Then the ache, deep, persistent, threaded through your ribs and shoulder in a way that made breathing feel deliberate. The air smelled wrong. Clean. Metallic. Not forest.

You opened your eyes.

The ceiling above you was unfamiliar, too smooth, lit by a dull, steady glow. Resistance quarters. The med bay. The realization settled with a quiet weight.

You had been out longer than you thought.

Your body felt heavy, sluggish, wrapped and restrained in places you didn’t immediately want to test. Someone had done thorough work. Careful work.

Your first thought wasn’t of the pain.

It wasn’t of the patrol, or the blast, or the way the ground had disappeared beneath you.

It was him.

The way his hands had been on you, steady, certain, unhesitating. The sound of his breath near your ear. The way you’d reached for him without thinking, fingers closing around his wrist like it was the only solid thing left in the world.

Your chest tightened.

You didn’t know if he’d been there when you were brought in. Didn’t know if he’d stayed. Didn’t know if he’d left the moment others had taken over, retreating back into distance the way he always did.

The not knowing hurt more than the injury.

You swallowed, throat dry, and shifted carefully, wincing as your body protested. The movement tugged at bandages, grounded you again in the present. Alive. Mended. Still here.

But your thoughts drifted stubbornly back to him anyway.

Had he come to see you?

Had he stood just outside the doorway, silent and watchful, before deciding it was better not to be there when you woke?

You stared up at the ceiling, listening to the quiet pulse of the room, and felt that same ache bloom again. Not sharp, not panicked. Just deep and persistent.

Whatever had passed between you on the battlefield had not faded with unconsciousness.

If anything, it felt closer now.

And you didn’t know what scared you more.

The hope that he’d been there while you slept.

Or the fear that he hadn’t dared to be.

You didn’t hear her come in at first.

Soft footsteps. The faint rustle of fabric. A presence you’d known your whole life before you even opened your eyes again.

“You’re awake,” Ri’nela said gently.

You turned your head toward the sound of her voice, relief and something tighter settling in your chest at once. She was standing near the doorway, arms folded loosely, expression careful in that way she used when she was trying not to overwhelm you.

“How long?” you asked, your voice rough.

“A few days,” she replied. “You scared us.”

You swallowed, gaze drifting past her to the doorway, to the empty space beyond it.

Ri’nela followed your eyes.

She hesitated. Just a fraction.

“So’lek was here,” she said.

Your breath caught before you could stop it.

“Just before you woke,” Ri’nela added softly.

The words landed heavier than you expected. Not because he’d been there, but because he wasn’t now.

“He left,” she continued, watching you closely. “When the med team said you were close.”

You nodded once, too quickly, as if that explained something. Or excused it.

Ri’nela stepped closer, lowering herself onto the edge of the chair beside your bed. She didn’t touch you. She didn’t need to.

“You’ve both been distant,” she said after a moment. Not accusatory. Just observant. “With each other.”

Your fingers curled slightly against the blanket.

“I noticed it before the patrol,” she went on. “And after.”

You kept your gaze on the ceiling, pulse steady but loud in your ears.

“Did something happen?” Ri’nela asked.

The question was careful. Open. An offering, not a demand.

You considered lying.

The words rose easily. No. It’s nothing. You’re imagining it.

But your chest tightened instead.

“I don’t think so,” you said finally.

It wasn’t a lie. It just wasn’t the whole truth.

Ri’nela studied you for a long moment, eyes soft, thoughtful.

“Then something almost did,” she said quietly.

You closed your eyes.

She exhaled, slow and measured, and reached out at last, resting her hand lightly over yours. Grounding. Familiar.

“You don’t have to tell me,” she said. “Not now. But I need you to know, whatever this is, I’m worried about you. About both of you.”

You opened your eyes again, blinking back the sudden sting there.

“He didn’t do anything,” you said quickly. Too quickly.

Ri’nela’s thumb brushed once over your knuckles.

“I didn’t say he did.”

Silence settled between you, thick but not unkind.

After a moment, Ri’nela stood.

“Rest,” she said. “I’ll tell him you’re awake.”

You stiffened.

She noticed. Of course she did.

“Only if you want me to,” she added gently.

You hesitated.

Then nodded.

Ri’nela gave you a small, knowing smile, not triumphant, not relieved. Just understanding.

As she turned to leave, she paused at the doorway.

“For what it’s worth,” she said without looking back, “he didn’t leave because he didn’t care.”

The door slid shut softly behind her.

You lay there, staring at the ceiling again, heart beating slow and heavy.

Knowing that whatever space had opened between you and him was no longer empty.

It was waiting.

He didn’t come.

Not that day.

You waited longer than you meant to, listening for footsteps that never reached the doorway, watching the light shift across the smooth walls of the med bay until the waiting itself began to feel foolish. You understood why. His restraint had always been deliberate, chosen.

That didn’t make it hurt less.

Or irritate you any less.

Understanding didn’t erase the sharp edge of it, the way he could pull back so completely, as if nothing had passed between you at all. You clenched your jaw, forcing the thought away before it could spiral into something messier.

When you were finally cleared to leave, you didn’t linger. The air inside felt too still, too controlled. You needed space.

Outside, the sky stretched wide and pale, the wind cool against your skin as you drew in a long breath. The ache in your body was manageable now. Dull, familiar. The ache in your chest was not.

You tilted your head back, eyes closing briefly.

I wish you were here, you thought, not for the first time. Your sister’s absence pressed in suddenly, sharp and unwelcome. You imagined what it would be like to speak to her again, to hear her laugh at your frustration, to offer some infuriatingly simple insight you’d pretend not to need.

Or at least to feel her through Eywa.

But the connection remained quiet. Distant. Whatever comfort you sought there didn’t come.

You exhaled, opening your eyes.

That’s when you spotted him.

Teylan sat a short distance away, hunched over a mess of cables and salvaged parts, fingers moving quickly as he coaxed something stubborn back to life. The soft glow of his screen reflected in his eyes, his focus absolute.

The sight of him grounded you in a way you hadn’t expected.

You changed direction without overthinking it.

“You’re going to fry that,” you said mildly, stopping near him.

He startled, then relaxed when he recognized you. “Hey, you’re up,” he said, relief flickering across his face. “Good. That’s… really good.”

You smiled faintly, lowering yourself beside him with a careful wince.

Teylan didn’t ask questions right away. He never did. He simply adjusted his workspace to give you room, the quiet companionable kind of presence that didn’t demand anything from you.

After a moment, he spoke again. “I noticed things have been tense,” he said, eyes still on his work. “Between you and… well.”

He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to.

You appreciated that.

“Yeah,” you said, more honestly than you’d planned.

He nodded once, accepting it without prying. “You don’t have to explain,” he added quickly. “Just figured I’d say I noticed. In case you thought you were hiding it better.”

A huff of laughter escaped you before you could stop it.

“Great,” you muttered.

Teylan glanced at you then, expression thoughtful but kind. “If it helps,” he said, “I’m very good at not telling people things they don’t need to know.”

You looked at him fully now.

That was the difference, you realized. With Ri’nela, there was care, and expectation. A sense that she’d want you to do something with whatever truth you shared. Teylan wasn’t like that. He listened without steering. Without fixing.

“I just…” You stopped, breath catching unexpectedly. You tried again. “I think I need to say it out loud before it drives me insane.”

Teylan set his tools aside, turning toward you completely. “Okay,” he said simply.

No judgment.

No pressure.

You drew in a slow breath, the weight of everything pressing close as the words finally edged their way forward.

You stared at the ground for a moment longer, jaw tight, fingers worrying at the edge of a loose strap.

“…I like him,” you said finally.

The words landed awkwardly between you, too small for how heavy they felt.

You let out a quiet breath, almost a laugh. “Maybe,” you added quickly. “I don’t know. It sounds stupid when I say it like that.”

Teylan didn’t interrupt. He didn’t even look surprised. He just waited.

“I thought…” You stopped, shook your head. Tried again. “I thought he liked me too. Not the same way, maybe, but something.”

Your throat tightened.

“And now I don’t know,” you admitted. “Maybe I read it wrong. Maybe I wanted it to be there so badly that I convinced myself it was.”

You glanced at Teylan then, searching his face for anything. Judgment, disbelief, concern.

He gave you none of it.

“He didn’t come,” you added, quieter now. “After. And I get why. I do. But it still…” You broke off, exhaling sharply. “It still hurts.”

Teylan nodded slowly, as if that alone made sense of everything.

“That doesn’t sound like nothing,” he said gently.

You huffed. “It feels like nothing. Or worse, it feels like something that isn’t allowed to exist.”

Silence settled again, but it wasn’t heavy. It was the kind that made room for honesty.

“I don’t want him to change,” you said after a moment. “I don’t want him to stop being who he is, or doing what he thinks he has to do. I just…”

You swallowed.

“I wish he’d stop pretending there’s nothing there.”

Teylan leaned back slightly, considering you with that thoughtful focus he usually reserved for broken tech.

“For what it’s worth,” he said, “you don’t sound wrong.”

You blinked.

“You sound unsure,” he continued. “And scared. And frustrated. But not wrong.”

You let your shoulders drop, just a fraction.

Saying it out loud didn’t fix anything.

But it made the ache feel less lonely.

Teylan was quiet for a long moment after that. Not the awkward kind, just thoughtful, like he was turning the words over in his hands, checking their weight.

“You know,” he said eventually, eyes dropping back to the half-assembled device beside him, “sometimes when something short-circuits, it’s not because it wasn’t meant to work. It’s because too many safeguards kick in at once.”

You snorted softly. “You’re comparing my feelings to broken tech now?”

A corner of his mouth lifted. “I’m saying… I don’t think this is you imagining things.”

You tensed despite yourself.

“I’ve seen the way he watches you,” Teylan went on, carefully. “The way he reacts when you’re in trouble. That’s not nothing. And it’s not the kind of thing someone fakes without realizing it.”

You looked away, jaw tightening. “Then why does he keep pulling back?”

Teylan shrugged lightly. “Because he’s very good at control.”

That landed harder than you expected.

“And because,” he added, glancing at you now, “some people think wanting something means they’re supposed to give it up.”

You swallowed.

“I don’t want to push him,” you said quietly. “I don’t want to corner him into saying something he’ll regret.”

“I know,” Teylan said. “That’s kind of obvious, actually.”

You gave him a look.

He lifted his hands in surrender, a faint smile tugging at his mouth. “I mean that in a good way. You’re not reckless about this. You’re careful. More than people think.”

You glanced back toward the camp, watching a pair of Na’vi pass by, their voices low, their laughter easy. The normalcy of it all felt distant, like something happening behind glass.

“I just don’t want to be another thing he has to choose against,” you said after a moment. The words surprised you with how easily they came. “Not his duty. Not his anger. Not what he still needs to finish.”

Teylan listened, expression thoughtful, unhurried.

“You don’t sound like someone asking to be chosen over anything,” he said. “You sound like someone trying not to get in the way.”

That stung. Not because it was wrong, but because it was close.

“Maybe,” you admitted. “And maybe that’s the problem.”

He tilted his head, considering you the way he did a stubborn piece of tech, patient, curious, without judgment.

“For what it’s worth,” he said, “people who are truly a distraction usually don’t worry about being one.”

You let out a slow breath, shoulders easing just a fraction.

The silence that followed wasn’t heavy. It didn’t demand answers. It simply existed, giving you space to sit with the truth you’d finally spoken out loud.

You didn’t feel braver.

You didn’t feel clearer.

But you felt less alone with it.

And for now, that was enough.

__________________

He knew she was awake.

The knowledge had come to him secondhand, quietly, as most things did. A brief word passed between the resistance medics. A change in the way people moved around the quarters. The absence of urgency where there had been fear days before.

Tamptey had survived.

Relief had hit him hard enough that he’d had to stop moving for a moment, breath locked in his chest as if the forest itself had closed around him. He told himself that was normal. Relief was expected. Relief meant nothing.

He did not go to see her.

He told himself he was giving her space. That waking to questions, to watchful eyes, to his presence so close after what had happened would be unfair. He told himself that distance was still the safest choice, for her, for him, for the fragile balance he had already failed to keep once.

That lie was easier than the truth.

The truth was that he did not trust himself to stand beside her bed and keep his hands to himself. Not after the way he had held her. Not after the sound she had made when she’d reached for him, dazed and hurting, fingers closing around his wrist like instinct alone had chosen him.

He had felt it then.

Not desire, not only that, but something deeper and far more dangerous. The certainty that if he stayed, if he allowed that moment to stretch even a heartbeat longer, restraint would become impossible.

So he had left.

And now, knowing she was awake, knowing she would notice his absence, the decision sat heavier than any wound he carried.

He kept busy instead. Too busy.

Patrol routes recalculated. Equipment checked twice. Orders given with clipped efficiency. He listened to briefings without hearing them, his attention snagging on details that didn’t matter while the ones that did stayed just out of reach.

At one point, he saw her from a distance.

She was outside the quarters, moving carefully but steadily, her injuries still evident in the way she favored one side. She was talking to Teylan, her posture relaxed in a way he had not seen in days. Not guarded. Not waiting.

The sight tightened something sharp and unwelcome in his chest.

He looked away immediately.

It was not jealousy, he told himself. He had no claim to that. It was only awareness. Concern. The kind that came naturally when one had taken responsibility for another’s safety.

And yet he remembered the warmth of her against him. The way his body had moved without permission, without hesitation. The fact that for those few moments, the world had narrowed to her and nothing else.

That was the mistake.

So’lek exhaled slowly, grounding himself in the familiar weight of his gear, the steady rhythm of his breathing. Vengeance had given him clarity once. Purpose. It still did. But now there was something else threading through it, something that did not belong to anger or duty.

Something he had no name for.

He told himself he would speak to her later. When she was stronger. When his control was firmer. When the space between them felt safe again.

He had told himself that before.

And for the first time, he wondered if waiting, if choosing distance again, might cost him something he would not get back.

He hadn’t meant to stop.

He’d been moving between the quarters and the edge of the camp, mind occupied with routes and supplies and anything that wasn’t the persistent pull toward the med bay. He told himself he was only passing through.

Then he saw her.

Tamptey stood a short distance away, shoulders relaxed despite the stiffness that still lingered in her movements. She was leaning against a crate, head tilted as she listened. Teylan sat beside her, tools forgotten for once, his attention fully on her face.

So’lek slowed before he could stop himself.

He caught only pieces. A few words carried on the air. Not enough to form a conversation, only tone. Low. Familiar. Unhurried.

Tamptey laughed.

The sound struck deeper than it should have.

It wasn’t loud or careless. It was soft, brief, the kind of laugh that slipped out when someone felt safe enough to let it. He hadn’t heard it since before the patrol.

He looked away too late.

She leaned in slightly, unconsciously, as if the space between them no longer required thought. Teylan said something he couldn’t hear, and she answered just as quietly, her expression open in a way So’lek hadn’t seen turned toward him in days. Maybe longer.

The tightness in his chest sharpened.

Teylan was easier.

Gentler. Unburdened by the things So’lek carried like scars beneath the skin. He listened without weighing every word, without measuring distance or consequence. He stayed where So’lek had learned to step back.

And he was younger.

Closer to her in ways So’lek could not be, not just in years, but in where he stood in the world. Unmarked by decades of loss and choices that could not be undone. Whatever Teylan offered her came without hesitation, without the gravity that seemed to follow So’lek wherever he went.

That mattered more than he wanted to admit.

She deserved ease. Someone who did not pause before smiling back, who did not carry the weight of mentorship or memory between every shared moment. Someone who could meet her where she was, instead of standing a lifetime ahead and trying not to look back.

Perhaps this was for the best.

The thought settled cold and deliberate in his chest.

If she found comfort with someone nearer her own age, someone who could listen without retreating, then that was not something to resent. It was something to allow.

He had known from the beginning that the space between them was not only silence.

It was years.

So’lek forced his feet to move again.

This was what restraint looked like, he told himself. Letting go before something fragile was damaged beyond repair. Stepping back so she could step forward, without him in the way.

He did not look back.

And he did not see the moment her laughter faded, or the way her shoulders tensed afterward, or how her gaze dropped to her hands as if something unspoken still weighed there.

He walked on with the quiet certainty that he had done the right thing.

And the growing fear that it had already cost him something he would not get back.

So’lek walked on, disappearing back into duty and distance, carrying the quiet certainty that restraint was still the safest choice.

He did not see her again that day.

And you did not go looking for him.

Instead, you sat with Teylan a while longer, listening to the soft whir of unfinished machines and the distant sounds of the camp settling into evening. When you finally stood, your body still aching, you felt steadier than you had that morning.

Not healed.

Just steadier.

You told yourself that if So’lek wanted to come to you, he would. That if he needed space, you could respect that, even if it hurt. You had survived worse than unanswered feelings. You had survived silence before.

Still, as you made your way back toward the quarters, you caught yourself glancing once over your shoulder.

Just in case.

He was not there.

Across the camp, So’lek paused at the edge of the clearing, listening to the familiar sounds of life continuing around him. He told himself that this was how things were meant to be. That distance was not loss, but protection. That some paths were not meant to run alongside each other, no matter how briefly they touched.

And yet, his thoughts returned to you anyway.

To the way you had looked laughing moments before he turned away. To the feel of your weight against him when instinct had overridden every careful rule he lived by.

Both of you moved forward that night believing the same thing.

That if something real existed between you, it would survive silence.

And if it did not, then letting go now was kinder than holding on too long.

The space between you remained.

Not empty.

The hiss from the trees cut their conversation short. 

As Tipani warriors descended, So’lek’s shift was instantaneous. He stepped in front of Tamtey, his broad frame obscuring her completely, his hand not on his weapon, but held out in a gesture of firm authority.

The Tipani warriors moved with a silence that felt like a weight, their shadows blending into the dark bark of the trees. As the couple began the trek toward the main camp, So’lek didn’t move from Tamtey’s side. His hand stayed firm on the small of her back, a possessive, grounding touch that signaled to every hidden watcher that she was under his protection.

So’lek stepped in front of Tamtey, his body a literal shield. "We bring your brother, Tswìke! We come in peace, and we seek to help with the crab-blight the Sky People have caused."

The warriors hesitated until a woman stepped forward, her presence commanding. It was Rimu, now the Tsahìk of the clan. Her eyes widened as they landed on So’lek.

"So’lek?" she breathed, ignoring Tamtey entirely. "The 'Boogeyman' returns to us. And you’ve brought a... student? A Sarentu child?"

Tamtey noticed how Rimu’s tail gave a sharp, agitated flick every time she glanced back and saw them so close. Rimu’s gaze was fixed on So'lek, tracing the scars on his arms and the heavy RDA trophies on his chest, completely ignoring the woman beside him.

"You have grown into a formidable warrior, So’lek," Rimu said, her voice projecting back to him, ignoring the rustle of the leaves. "The boy I knew was fast, but this man... you look as though you have forgotten how to laugh. Perhaps the Tipani can remind you of the fire you once carried."

So’lek’s expression didn't change, but his fingers tightened slightly against Tamtey’s waist. "The fire I carry is not the one you remember, Rimu. I have found a new purpose. My path is no longer solitary."

Rimu let out a short, dismissive breath. "Purpose is a heavy thing. Usually, it is shared with equals, not with those who need a guide through the brush." She stopped at the edge of a high platform and finally looked at Tamtey, her eyes cold and scanning. "I hope the Sarentu is as quick as she is colorful.”

“She is good.” So’lek affirms. Rimu eyes them both and Tamtey met her gaze with a steady, defiant look.

“Follow. But keep the Sarentu close. Our shadows do not play well with strangers."

As Tswìke was whisked away to the healers, the clan gathered around the central fire, the flickering orange light dancing off the sharp edges of Tipani armor. Rimu took her place beside So’lek, leaning in so close their shoulders nearly brushed, her presence a deliberate invasion of space.

"I heard stories of you, So’lek," Rimu said, her voice dropping into a melodic purr that carried over the crackle of the wood. "They say you carry the metal of the Sky People like trophies now. I remember when you only carried the weight of your bow and a restless spirit. We could take to the skies tonight, for old time's sake? The Great Canopy is beautiful under the full moon, and the winds are just as they were when we were young."

Tamtey, sitting on So’lek’s other side, felt a surge of heat that had nothing to do with the fire. She saw the way Rimu’s eyes traced the lines of So’lek’s face, looking for a boy who no longer existed. Without breaking gaze with the Tsahìk, Tamtey reached out, plucking a sweet piece of roasted fruit and holding it directly to So’lek’s mouth.

"Eat, ma So’lek," she said, her voice smooth but commanding, a soft edge of steel beneath the words. "You need your strength if we are to hunt the RDA. You cannot afford to be distracted by... memories."

So’lek didn't hesitate; he accepted the food from her hand and fed himself, his golden eyes meeting Tamtey’s with an intensity that clearly signaled where his loyalty lay. 

But Rimu only smiled thinly, her tail flicking with annoyance. "He was always a big eater," she remarked dismissively. "I remember sharing my kills with him when he had nothing but his hunger and his grief. He was always so grateful for what I provided."

The air between the two women grew heavy and sharp. When Rimu eventually stood, she didn't just gesture toward the maps; she placed a hand firmly on So’lek’s shoulder, her fingers lingering on the leather strap of his armor to pull him toward the map tables.

Tamtey’s patience snapped. As she rose to follow, her movement was a blur of calculated Sarentu grace. She "carefully" nudged a heavy ceramic bowl filled with thick, purple grain mash sitting on the edge of the stone hearth. It didn't just spill; it launched, coating the hem of Rimu’s ornate hide wrap and splashing across her embroidered boots.

"Oh! My apologies, Tsahìk," Tamtey gasped, her voice dripping with an artificial sweetness that didn't match the steady, defiant fire in her eyes. She stood tall, refusing to look down at the mess. "I suppose I haven't spent enough time 'in the shadows' to find my footing here."

Rimu froze, the purple mash dripping slowly from her fine clothing. The surrounding warriors went silent, their eyes darting between their Tsahìk and the Sarentu woman who had just dared to mark her territory.

In the dim, bioluminescent glow of their guest shelter, the air was heavy with the scent of damp earth and the sharp metallic tang of whetstone on steel. So’lek leaned against the curved wooden wall, his arms crossed over his chest, watching Tamtey. She was sitting on the edge of their sleeping furs, her jaw set in a hard line as she sharpened her hunting knife with aggressive, rhythmic precision. Each stroke of the blade was a testament to the fire burning beneath her skin.

"You are angry," So’lek stated plainly, his deep voice vibrating in the small space.

Tamtey didn't look up, her focus remaining entirely on the edge of the blade. "She thinks I’m a child who found her way into the wrong woods. She thinks you are a trophy she simply misplaced and is now ready to reclaim," she retorted, the words coming out sharp and fast. She finally looked up at him, her eyes bright with a mixture of hurt and fury. "And you... you just let her. You sat there and let her talk about 'old times' while she looked at you like you were the last hunt on Pandora. Like I wasn't even sitting right beside you."

So’lek didn't pull away or offer a hollow defense. Instead, he pushed off the wall and walked over to her, his movements slow and deliberate. He knelt on the furs between her knees, a gesture of humility that was rare for a warrior of his standing. Gently, he reached out and took the knife from her hand, setting it aside on the floor.

He reached up, wrapping his large, calloused hands around her wrists and pulling them toward his neck. The intensity in his golden eyes softened, turning into something molten and devoted. "Then remind her, ma Tamtey," he murmured, his voice dropping to a low, intimate rumble. "Remind her. Remind the Tipani. Remind the whole forest."

He bowed his head, intentionally baring the sensitive skin of his neck and shoulders—a profound gesture of total surrender and trust among the Na'vi. It was an invitation for her to claim him in the most ancient way they knew.

Tamtey didn't hesitate. The anger in her chest dissolved into a fierce, protective warmth. She leaned forward, closing the small gap between them. She pressed her face into the curve of his neck, rubbing her cheek and brow firmly against his skin. She marked him with the distinct, sweet-woodland scent of the Sarentu—a fragrance of crushed moss, rain, and wild herbs.

It was a deep, lingering claim, a sensory seal that would stay on his skin for days, signaling to any other Na'vi exactly who he belonged to. So’lek let out a low, shaky groan of contentment, the tension finally leaving his massive frame. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her flush against his chest, burying his face in her hair. They stayed like that for a long moment, breathing each other in, the world outside the shelter fading into insignificance.

"Better?" he rumbled against her skin, his heart beating a steady, heavy rhythm against her own.

Tamtey pulled back just enough to look at him, her hands still resting on his shoulders, tracing the marks she had made. A small, satisfied smile finally touched her lips.

"Better?" he asked softly. "Better," she replied, her fire replaced by a calm, steady confidence. So'lek gave her a quick peck on the lips and smiled sweetly.

They returned to the communal fire together. This time, Tamtey didn't hover. She reclaimed her Sarentu roots, moving gracefully toward a group of Tipani hunters and their children. She began to share stories of the western frontier, her voice melodic and diplomatic, charming the clan members as she ate. She intentionally left So’lek to himself, knowing the mark she had left on him spoke louder than words.

Rimu approached So’lek, her eyes flashing with anger as she gestured to her ruined robes. "It is unbecoming of a Sarentu to pour food on a clan’s Tsahìk," she hissed, her voice sharp. "They are meant to be diplomats, peacemakers. Your companion lacks the discipline of her people."

Rimu was never an angry person, so’lek remembered her to be a warm and welcoming friend. Perhaps only time knew how much she had changed. So’lek looked at Rimu, then his gaze drifted to Tamtey, who was laughing with the children across the hearth. 

"Can you really blame her, Rimu?" he asked, his voice calm and unapologetic.

Rimu gave him a sharp, piercing look. "I regretted letting you go, So’lek," she whispered, her voice softening with a sudden, heavy longing. "I often wonder what would have happened if I had asked you to stay, if we had bonded back then—"

“Rimu.”

Before the words could go any deeper, So’lek stopped her. He didn't speak; he simply looked at her with eyes that were no longer searching, but entirely settled. He turned his head, his gaze locking onto Tamtey as she began a small dance with the Tipani children, her light reflecting in the fire. The look in his eyes was one of total devotion—the look of a man who was already home.

Rimu followed his gaze, seeing the way Tamtey moved and the way So’lek’s entire spirit seemed to lean toward her. She smelled the heavy, sweet scent of the Sarentu girl clinging to him, a mark she could never erase. 

Rimu let out a long, heavy sigh, the fight leaving her shoulders. She looked away, finally realizing that the boy from her past was gone, and the man standing before her belonged to someone else. She lowered her head slightly, a silent acknowledgement of defeat, and gave up.

The golden light of Pandora’s morning filtered through the dense Tipani canopy as So’lek and Tamtey readied their gear for departure. The tension from the night before hadn't entirely vanished, but it had shifted. So’lek moved with a new sense of ease, his hand frequently finding the small of Tamtey’s back, a quiet but firm reminder to the entire clan of where he stood.

While Tamtey crouched to say her goodbyes to the group of Tipani children who had followed her all morning, Rimu approached So’lek one last time near the scouting maps.

"She is... spirited," Rimu said, her voice tight as she watched Tamtey laugh while a young girl tucked a blossom behind her ear. "But she is a diplomat, So’lek. A peacemaker. Is that truly what the 'Boogeyman' needs to survive this war? Or is she just a habit you’ve picked up because you grew tired of being alone?"

So’lek’s face hardened at Rimu’s words. “Sometimes it is best to keep some thoughts to ourselves.”

His eyes fixed on Tamtey, softening in a way Rimu had never seen during his years as a hardened survivor. "Tamtey is not a habit," he said, his voice low and unwavering. "She is the only reason I still have a heart worth protecting. Can you blame her for being fierce, Rimu? She has a warrior to keep in line."

He turned his gaze back to Rimu, and for the first time, she saw it clearly—the look of a man who was no longer searching for a place to belong. Rimu looked away, a long, weary sigh escaping her. 

"I see. The shadows have truly lost you to the light, then."

As they prepared to mount their Ikrans, Rimu stepped toward Tamtey. The children were clinging to Tamtey’s leggings, reluctant to let their new storyteller go. 

“Come back, Tam’tey!” One of the children says, a pang of sadness in their voice. “We enjoy your stories! Visit us next time—continue the story of Toruk!”

“Certainly.” Tamtey laughed, muffling their hands in pure joy. 

"You should come back, Sarentu," Rimu said, her tone finally holding a touch of genuine respect. She strided towards them, hand behind her back, footsteps quiet. "The children will miss you dearly. You have a way with them that we lack."

Tamtey, still furious at Rimu’s earlier obliviousness and the way she had looked at So’lek, gave the Tsahìk a sharp cold shoulder. Enough for Rimu to notice but not be visible to the children as she shushed them back to their parents. She adjusted her Ikran’s harness without looking up. "I will come back for them," Tamtey replied shortly. "I’ll come alone next time. The children are wonderful, and they deserve to hear more from the world."

Rimu hesitated, then looked at So’lek before turning her eyes back to Tamtey. "Take care of him, Sarentu. He has been through so much."

Tamtey swung up onto her Ikran, looking down at Rimu with a fierce, possessive glint in her eyes. "Do not tell me how to treat my man, Tipani," she said, her voice echoing with the strength of a woman who had fought for every inch of her happiness. "I know exactly what he needs."

With a sharp cry, Tamtey took to the sky, and So’lek followed close behind, his Ikran’s wings beating in perfect rhythm with hers as they left the shadows of the Tipani behind.

The wind roared past the two, carrying the scent of the open plains and the freedom of the sky. They took to the sky, the wind rushing past them. So’lek brought his Ikran level with hers, watching the way the sunlight caught the Sarentu beads in her hair. 

"You were good with those children," So’lek shouted over the wind. "The Sarentu were always a small clan... but it doesn't have to stay that way." 

Tamtey’s ears perked up in surprise, eyes widened, a blush creeping up her neck. "So’lek! Are you... are you saying what I think you're saying?" 

He let out a rare, booming laugh, diving his Ikran toward the canopy below. "I am saying that I am a man of the Sarentu now, ma Tamtey! And my clan needs a future. Are you fast enough to catch me and discuss it?"

Tamtey felt her heart hammer against her ribs, not from the flight, but from the weight of So’lek’s words. She looked over at him, seeing the way the sunlight hit his face, erasing the "Boogeyman" and leaving only the man she loved—the man who had just invited her to build a future that had once seemed impossible.

"So’lek!" Tamtey called out, her voice a mix of shock and blossoming joy. "You cannot just say something like that and then dive away!"

He didn't answer with words. Instead, he leaned forward, his Ikran, Ìley, shrieking in delight as they banked into a steep, plummeting dive toward the shimmering treetops. So’lek looked back over his shoulder, a look of pure, unburdened mischief in his eyes.

Tamtey didn't hesitate. She urged her Ikran forward, the great wings snapping shut as she mirrored his dive. "I am a Sarentu!" she yelled into the wind, a wide, triumphant smile breaking across her face. "I am faster than any grumpy warrior from the shadows!"

They raced through the clouds, weaving between floating mountains and spiraling through the golden haze of the morning. Their laughter echoed to the plains. For the first time in a long time, the war felt far away. There was no RDA, no Tipani, and no Rimu—only the two of them and the promise of a clan reborn.

As they leveled out over a sparkling waterfall, So’lek slowed his pace just enough for her to catch up. He reached out his hand, and for a fleeting second, their fingers brushed in the open air.

"I am serious, ma Tamtey," he said, his voice dropping into a warmth that carried clearly even over the wind. "The Sarentu traditions must be passed on. And I can think of no one better to teach them than a mother who is as fierce as she is kind."

Tamtey’s eyes softened, her hand lingering near his as they soared toward their home. "Then we have a lot to prepare for, ma So’lek. But first, let’s get home."

taglist: @sosleks @just-another-idk @itskekeelise @eywaslittlelady @ravenyia @lotus-eater-69

Eclipse has only just begun, darkness lighting up the tanhi across Iley’s skin. The dots blur into lines as we fly through the sky, banking from left to right, then left again. Behind me, Nimun screeches as Tamtey’s laugh fills the warm air. We have been flying for a while now, weaving in between floating mountains and mountain ikran. She had challenged me to a race, of course, and this time I was not keen on letting her win. Iley and I dip down suddenly, diving down from above the clouds to get back on the path. Tamtey lets out a shout of disbelief at the sight, quickly following in my path. I let out a whoop, rolling through the air on Iley's back as we reach the tips of the floating rocks. I cannot help but let out a deep laugh myself, hearing Tamtey’s curses behind me. She was not used to losing. 

I do one more twist in the breeze before coming to a quick landing on a patch of dewy, plush moss growing thousands of feet in the air. Iley hits the ground with a huff, roaring in delight as I hop off his back. We won.

“Good boy, Iley.” I give him a soft pat on his snout before placing my hands on my hips, face raised to the sky as I watch Tamtey and Nimun fly down to take their places beside me. I can’t help the soft upwards tilt of my lips as Tamtey jumps to the ground, groaning in false annoyance. 

“So’lek! You’re supposed to let me win!” She is practically whining. I roll my eyes upwards, crossing my arms in front of my chest as I take a few small steps towards her. Her own arms mirror my own, crossed. Her tail lashes softly behind her as we come to face one another mere feet apart.

“You will not get better if I keep pretending to lose.” My voice has a lilt to it, one that cannot be misinterpreted for anything other than mirth. Tamtey groans at that, throwing her head back like a pouting child. She steps closer to me, slapping my shoulder lightly. 

“That isn’t the point.” Her eyes are large as she looks up at me, widened into a look of fake innocence. I suck on my teeth, looking back down at her. Her tanhi glows so brightly in the dark, and I can't help but trace their path with my eyes across the entirety of my face. She is still pouting her lip at me. I spoil her so. 

I make a low sound in the back of my throat, urging her to stop. She doesn’t. I can’t help the smile that takes over my face, my upper lip curling from my teeth. Tamtey does nothing but bring me joy. I shake my head at her antics, leaning forward to drop a gentle kiss to the open skin of her forehead that her hair and ornaments do not yet cover. My arms uncross, wrapping around her lithe body and pulling her into a hug. She goes with fake reluctance. 

She softens in my hold, arms circling my neck as she buries her painted face in my chest. She is grumbling something against the cloth that I cannot understand. I raise my brow, attempting to pull her away to get a better listen to her words, yet she doesn’t budge. Instead, Tamtey holds onto me tighter, jumping up to wrap her legs around my waist. I stumble back at the sudden movement, hands falling to hold her under her knees, where they bend at my hips. She is still grumbling, but now I can tell it is all just to tease me. So, I huff and let her keep her legs wrapped around me, walking towards the only small clearing on the floating rock and lowering myself to the cold stone. 

Tamtey’s head had moved to my neck, where she now nibbles at the skin there slightly. I grunt, prying her out from the space she has hidden in. When our gazes meet, I see the hearty smirk sitting so proudly on her face. Not an uncommon sight. 

“Stop acting like a wounded nantang just because you are not faster than Iley and me. After all, we are many years older than you, and much better at most things.” I still have not stopped smiling. Never in all of my years since the battle of Ayram Alusing have I smiled so much. And it was all thanks to this beautiful, tantalizing woman in front of me. The overwhelming feeling of tenderness washed over me, and I had to force my gaze away from her own, looking into the skies around us. 

Tamtey just giggles. Knowing she has won, because next time I will be the loser of the race. 

“Oh… stop acting like you’re ancient, So’lek! We are not that far apart in age, skxawng.” She pushes against my chest playfully, still seated fully on top of my lap. Against my will, my arms tighten around her waist, wrapping her closer to my body. As close as she can get. Up this close, I can see every small detail on her face, from beauty marks to the speckles of green floating in her glowing irises. She is just sitting there, smiling up at me like I am the most important thing in the world. But that cannot be true, because I am not. She is. 

I close the distance between us, hands gripping the smallest part of her waist as my lips find hers. Her long fingers trail up my back, climbing up my neck and onto the sides of my scarred face, cupping my cheeks. We sit there, mouths meshed together, tongues colliding. It was a long kiss, of passion and of love, and I could feel my lungs burning at the lack of air. But, I didn’t pull away, fangs nipping at her bottom lip as she hums into my parted lips. It is so gentle, so full of something that I have never felt before. We are not desperate, just together. It is just So’lek and Tamtey. 

It is Tamtey that pulls off first, taking in a deep breath as she rests her forehead on mine, arms falling from my face back to their spot around my neck atop my shoulders. We sit there, breeze swirling around us, Iley and Nimun’s chirps filling the space from their spots on the rock island below us. I relish in the peace of it all, content to sit there with Tamtey in my lap until the sun comes back over the horizon, even past then. 

But then the silence is interrupted by the sweet echo of Tamtey’s voice, “Can I ask you something?” The question is a hot breath on my neck. My hands move from her waist, rubbing up and down the rough fabric of her vest in what I hope to be a comforting motion. Urging her to go on.

She pulls back, hands falling to her lap as she fiddles with her fingers anxiously. I wait. The patience I have learned as a warrior helps me stay calm as she fidgets endlessly in front of me. Finally, she speaks, her voice quiet, 

“Have you ever thought about mating before? Forming tsaheylu and bonding?”

My hands freeze on her back, halting their circling motions. I pull my arms completely away from her, bringing them behind my back to lean on them as Tamtey takes up space on my lap. I know I must tread carefully here, but I have never been a man who is good with his emotions. 

“Never.” 

That was not the right thing to say. Immediately, I know it, as Tamtey flinches back as if I had struck her. Her brows scrunch, nose crinkling as she stares at me in what I can only assume is disbelief. 

“What do you mean never?” I can hear the insecurity behind her tone, the curiosity that threatens to break free of her mouth and separate into various questions. But my own insecurities have come to the conversation, too. 

“It is exactly as I said. I do not wish to bond. It is not for me, and it never has been.” I know my tone is hard, my words holding a sense of finality I did not mean to fold into them. Tamtey is not close enough to feel how my heart has started racing, my palms beginning to sweat where they are pressed into the ground. I know I should say more. Explain my reasoning. But I do not. 

Not that I would get a chance, for Tamtey has always been one to take action as soon as her heart tells her to. She pulls off of me completely, standing and taking a step away from where I sit on the ground. She hesitates, turning to me briefly before shaking her head and continuing through the small clearing, hopping from the larger mountain to the smaller where Nimun sits waiting for her. 

I try not to scramble to my feet, getting up to follow her as quickly as I can without looking frantic. I hop down after her, my heartbeat in my throat. She is already getting Nimun ready to leave. We were supposed to spend the night out here. Together. 

“Tamtey?” I question. My voice is solid, no hint of concern leaking through. Good. 

She finally turns back to me, and my breath catches in my chest when I notice there are now tears that glisten in her eyes. I cannot move from my spot, watching as she blinks rapidly to will them away. Tamtey rarely cried. My tail flicks behind me, giving away my agitation. But my throat is dry, and I do not speak.

“Then what is all of this, So’lek?” Her voice breaks on my name. I tilt my head, clearly not understanding her question. Instantly, she picks up on the behavior. “You kiss me. Touch me. Speak to me more softly than you speak to anyone else. Yet, you have never thought of bonding–” She pauses, and I can see a lone tear escape, trailing down her cheek.  “What am I to you?” 

My eyes dart around, trying to avoid looking at the distraught look that paints her face. I lick my lips, blurting out the first thing I can think of. 

“I care for you, Tamtey.” 

She scoffs, “Right.” 

My ears twitch back at her tone. She is angry. I made her angry. I know I should reach out to her, stop her from getting on Nimun and flying into the night. I should pull her close and tell her of the thoughts that plague my mind. But I am a weak man, and I do none of those things. Instead, I stay where I am standing and watch as she hastily brushes tears from her blue skin, jumping onto her ikran and slipping away into the depths of night. 

Only when she is out of my sight do I release the breath I am holding. 

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I did not see Tamtey again that night. When I got back to our camp, she was nowhere to be found, somewhere out there in the vastness of Pandora. None of the other Sarentu had seen her either. I knew she was upset with me and likely needed space, so I let it go. I begrudingly ate a meal and forced myself to sleep. 

She was still not back by the next morning. A small kindling of worry began to burn in my gut. I did my best to push it down, going about my daily tasks of gathering and scouting nearby lands. No one spoke over comms, not even Teylan with his usual endless yammering. As night began to creep in on the second day, Tamtey came back to camp. I heard Nimun’s flap of wings from my meditation spot by the shimmering pond that sat shallowly within our rock of solitude. My eyes fluttered open, falling to the ground a few meters below me, where I watched Tamtey meander into the entrance of the cave. I could hear the exclamations of happiness from the other four Sarentu at their reunion. 

I sit there for a few minutes more, mustering up the courage to go down and finally face her. Over a full day without communication was strange for us, and I did not like the way the feeling filled my chest. 

I walked slowly, hopping from patch of moss to patch of moss until I reached the back entrance of the cave. All five of the Sarentu sat on the floor by the fire, chattering. Ever the storytellers. Timidly, I approach the fire, sitting down between Rasi and Teylan like all is normal. They welcome me enthusiastically, questioning me about my day as Rasi passes me a leaf of steamed fish. I take it, picking at it with my fingers to dig out the small bones before bringing it to my mouth to consume. My eyes wander across the fire, where Tamtey sits complementary to me. She is giggling softly at something Nor is telling her, and I am entranced. I just stare, waiting for her to peek at me. 

She must feel my eyes after some time, because she finally meets my gaze. When her cosmic eyes finally meet mine, I see nothing there but hurt. It flashes briefly before she tears away from the eye contact, twisting her body to face Nor completely. Shutting me out. I feel my heart ache a bit in my chest, and I try not to let it show on my face. I turn my head to Teylan, pretending to listen as he rambles on about some type of human computer. But my thoughts are entirely elsewhere. My eyes settled just over Teylan’s shoulder, looking past his face as negative images crossed my mind. I tune him out altogether, eyes blurring. 

What if Tamtey continued to be angry with me? Would she speak to me at all tonight? 

I am drawn from my head as my new clan members get up from around the fire, bidding each other goodnight and heading to their separate hammocks, where they hang all around our home. I stand slowly, staying still as Tamtey and I are the last two left at the fireside. I wait for her to speak first, but it does not come. My heart begins to pound. Tamtey is not one to stay away from confrontation. If she has something on her mind, she will share it. Loudly. 

She glances at me before turning away from me. As she takes a step forward, my hand shoots out, locking around her beaded wrist in a gentle grasp. She does not turn around to face me. 

My voice is quiet as I question her. “Tamtey?” Her ears flicker at the sound of my voice, but still she does not look at me. Instead, she pulls her arm away and continues to walk in another direction, opposite mine. Her silence unsteadies me, and I have to take a deep breath, standing frozen until I will myself to move towards my own hammock. On my way there, my eyes catch Ri’nela’s. Hers are questioning, obviously having seen what just happened between the second youngest Sarentu and me. I do not have an answer for her, looking away and continuing on my path. 

I reach my destination, pulling off my vest and crawling into my hammock. I lay there, staring up at the zig-zagging lines of stone above me. It takes forever for me to fall asleep.

Tamtey does not come to bed that night.

Or the next. Or the one after that.

It has been days, and still she will not speak to me. She won’t even look at me when I am near. She avoids me at all costs, leaving a room when I enter and engaging every other person in conversation while I am near. The other Sarentu notices it. Obviously, they notice it. But Tamtey and I say nothing about the tension that now sits wound tightly between us. 

On the fourth day, the kindling of fire from days prior now burns brightly in my chest, metaphorical smoke flowing into my lungs and steadily suffocating me from the inside out. I recognize the feeling as fear. Something I rarely feel after many years of battle, but not when it comes to her. Always her. 

I am afraid that she is done. With me and my stubborn living. Our conversation is on repeat in my mind like an endless chirping. I said all of the wrong things, and I did not stop her from leaving. And now we do not even speak. 

Before, we spent every moment of every day together. Hunting. Gathering. Cooking. Crafting. Talking. Flying. Everything. We could not get enough of each other. I could not get enough of her. 

She was a light in the darkness. My new reason for living. The air in my lungs. 

I did not like this newfound distance between us. 

On Iley’s back, I am silent. Eyes unseeing as we soar above the clouds. Alone, my thoughts continue to wander. 

I have not touched her skin in days, felt the fullness of her lips in days. Heard her whispers in my ear as we lay wound together in my hammock at night. 

Does she hate me now?

No. Tamtey does not hate. She is too kind. Even after all she has been through, she still sees the good in everyone and everything. She does not hate me, but I am afraid she will begin to resent me if she has not yet begun so already. 

In my memories, I see the depth of the hurt in her eyes, the look of sorrow on her young face as I told her of my undesire to mate. Something I promised myself I did not deserve a long time ago, when I was still a young warrior. 

My words hurt her, spoken words of what sounded like rejection. But it was not. Not really. Not to me. But I couldn’t bring myself to tell her the truth in that moment. I regret it so deeply now. I should have stopped her, brought her close to my body, and lain myself bare before her. Opened my heart and soul to her as any future mate would.

I could not tell her that, although I loved her more than anything in the whole of my life, I could not tie her to me for the rest of our living days. Even if I longed for it so deeply, I saw it in my dreams. However, since I was a young boy, running through the forest with my late friends, I dreamed of the day I would find a beautiful woman to bind myself to. How I used to tell my parents of the woman I dreamed of, strong and charming with a smile like the sun, who I would one day protect and cherish. How I used to daydream about a time when I officially had a mate, the two of us forming tsaheylu and giving ourselves to each other in every possible way. The two of us together, frollicking through my homeland, so in love. One day, that daydream included a new life. 

I shake the thought away, eyes trying to focus back onto something. Anything in the real world. 

I could not tell Tamtey that I still dreamed of these things, both awake and asleep. I dreamed of her waking up beside me for the rest of our lives, sometimes a child in between us. It was something I could not have and something I did not deserve. Not now, not ever. Maybe once, I did. Before I became tainted by the Sky People and their destruction. 

My forehead is scrunched, brows furrowed as I try to rid my brain of these thoughts. It is no use dwelling over it now. I had to think of a way to apologize to Tamtey. Somehow. I would make sure she gets that from me, at least. 

I pat Iley’s side, murmuring at him to take us back down, below the clouds, and back to land. On our way there, a crackle breaks the silence on my comms. It is Teylan. 

“Tamtey! So’lek! I don’t know where you two are, but there is new activity being picked up at one of the old oil processors! Looks like RDA! Can you get there?” 

I listen closely, concern at the back of my mind. It was not unusual for RDA to be stirring up trouble at old sites, but still, it irks me. Neverending. 

Tamtey answers first. “Tell us the location. I’ll be there as soon as possible.”

I wait for a second to see if she will say something else. Speak to me. She doesn’t. I clear my throat, pressing down the comm’s button to reply, “I am on my way now.” He does not get anything back, only Teylan’s confirmation of the processor's name. I fly there quickly, making my way to the outer borders of the processing plant. Upon my landing, I notice that Tamtey is already there. Waiting for me. 

I hop from Iley’s back before he fully touches the ground, springing to stand. I make my way towards Tamtey, where she stands fidgeting at Nimun’s saddle. She looks up at me as I reach her, the first eye contact we have made in days. I no longer see hurt in her eyes, but acceptance. I will away burn in my throat at the sight of it. She grabs her bow from where it is strapped to Nimun’s side, slinging it over her back as she begins to make her way up the small hill we sit on outside the walls of the plant. She speaks to me as she walks away. 

“I didn’t see anyone outside when I was flying in. Must be inside the facility.” 

I make a noise of affirmation, following in her footsteps. Together, we trek up the hill, making our way up and into the overgrowth that covers the destroyed processing plant. I do not try to speak; now is not the time. We move together silently, used to working with each other in these situations. 

In the middle of the facility, a door is wide open, leading into the large metal box. We enter side by side, bows armed and at the ready. Walking in, all of the lights are off, and we are met with nothing but silence. Strange. I radio to Teylan first, calm seeping into my voice. 

“We are here, Teylan. There are no RDA. Is there a level underground where they could be?”

Tamtey glances at me while we stop, waiting for Teylan’s response. We wait for what feels like minutes, avoiding looking at each other directly. 

“Teylan?” I ask, voice harder. There is no reply, but the sound of a door sliding shut and locking fills the room. Behind us, where we came in, the door has sealed. Tamtey is on alert immediately, spinning in her spot, bow raised. Waiting for an attack. I raise my own bow, scouring the empty metal arena in the pitch-black darkness. All I can hear is Tamtey’s breathing next to me. 

No one comes. No shots are sounded. Slowly, the lights begin to flicker on around us, filling the space with fluorescent lights. Tamtey and I finally look at each other, realization settling into our bones. At last, Teylan speaks.

“Okay, so, I’m sorry! This was Ri’nela’s idea! We all know that you two have been uh— avoiding each other. So, I locked you in! Surprise!” 

I groan, lowering my bow and looking away from Tamtey. My breath huffs out of my noise in a loud breath, my annoyance obvious. This is not what was supposed to happen. Besides me, Tamtey is quietly seething. 

“Teylan! Open that door right now.” 

Of course, there is no response. Tamtey growls, slapping her bow over her shoulder as she paces back and forth in her spot. We are quiet, avoiding the inevitable. I watch her, letting her have her moment of anger. It goes on for too long. My usual patience wears thin, and I cannot help but break the uncomfortable silence. 

“Tamtey. Look at me.” She stops pacing at the sound of my voice, turning to me with her arms crossed tightly in front of her. Her brow bone is arched down, creating a look that could be none other than exasperation. Her eyes meet mine, and she throws her arms up, “Ugh! Fine!” 

I watch as she plops onto the ground, flexible legs crossing immediately as she stares at the metal beneath her. I look around like someone was there to save me. I know there is not. I sigh, lowering myself down to mirror her. For a moment, we just stare at each other. I do not know what to say. Neither does she. 

I am silent, thinking of something to say. Anything to express how sorry I am. Not a sound passes my lips. Tamtey beats me to it, voice wavering as she addresses me.

“Okay, let’s talk.” I nod, forcing myself to stay looking at her. Still, I do not speak. It is like my voice is stolen from me, my throat dry, and words unable to be spoken. I just stare at her like a lost boy, hoping she will start the conversation. Luckily, she takes pity on me. 

“Oh, come on. Don’t make me say it.” His eyes narrow, questioning her remark. Say what? She scoffs lightly, but without anger, “I cannot do this anymore, So’lek.” 

Everything around me freezes. The air, Tamtey, my body. It is like everything has been hollowed out around me, leaving nothing but cold behind. 

No.

I lean forward, as close as I can get without intruding on Tamtey’s personal space. I hold my hands out in front of me like I am calming a wild animal. I refuse to notice the tremors as my palms face Tamtey. 

“Please.” I have never heard my own voice so quiet. Vulnerable. Broken. I am desperate, eyes wide and frantic like a feral palulukan. My hands move to my chest, palms flat against my chest as I plead with the woman I know I love. “I will do anything, Tamtey. Do not leave.” She just stares at me, her own eyes wide now, matching my own. She does not look impressed. Maybe…confused? I trip over myself to elaborate.

“I know what I said. I know how it sounded, and I know you must find me w-weak–” I stutter. I never stutter. I take a shaky breath, willing myself forward, “But please, do not leave me. Don’t leave us. I can move my things to another part of the mountain, or stay away for a while…anything. Just ask for it, and it is done. I cannot bear to see you go.” 

She watches me, and I am too lost within my grief to notice that the confusion in her stare has turned into raw concern. I cannot stop myself from speaking even more, words slurring together as I do anything in my power to convince her to stay here. 

“We do not need to be together, as lovers. We can remain apart. Stay friends, or even just clan members. Whatever you want.” I bow my head in submission, making myself vulnerable to her and displaying my anguish. “I will tell the others what I have done. They can help you decide what to do with me after this. I will do anything as long as I can check in at times. To make sure you are okay. That is all I ask of you. Please.”

I cannot bring myself to lift my head up again, instead I bend in half fully, pressing my forehead to the ground beneath us. Disgusting human metal, cold and hard, meets my skin in an uncomfortable bond. Tamtey doesn’t speak. I am not even sure if she was listening to me. I know I have hurt her, and I do not expect forgiveness; I just want to know my new family will be okay no matter what happens between the two of us. I care too much for her to go, or for any of them to leave alongside her. I keep my head on the floor, waiting for her judgment. After a moment, I feel the soft touch of her hands on the nakedness of my shoulders. She presses up on them, trying to lift my body up into a sitting position once more. 

I do not let her. I stay where I am, desolate. 

“So’lek– So’lek, get up. Come on, look at me.” I can hear the worry in her voice, and it just makes me feel even worse, guilt threatening to escape the cavity of my stomach and into my throat to form a spew of apologies. “So’lek, get up.” She sounds solemn. Fear tingles down my limbs and into the tips of my fingers. She has made her decision. 

Slowly, I rise. Sitting up to face her, hands clenched in hard fists within the knot of my lap, I prepare for the worst. I do not want to lose her. Not after I just got her. She is just staring at me with something in her eyes, not pity, but something more complicated. Distress mixed with something like love. But no, that cannot be right. Not now. Not ever. 

“I’m not going anywhere.” Her words let me finally breathe a sigh of relief, body relaxing and eyes closing briefly to regain some sort of clarity. 

“Thank you, Tamtey.” My eyes open again to find her frowning.

“You do not need to thank me, So’lek. I was never going to leave. Never.” She pauses, hand hesitant as she reaches for one of my clenched fists. I let her take it, which she does so gently. So caring. And all I can do is watch as she attempts to rub out the knots that are my fingers. I look at her, waiting for any type of elaboration. I must know my fate. 

“Then, what shall I do? How can I make this better?” My words are whispered, leaking remnants of regret. She sighs, and suddenly she sounds overwhelmed with sorrow. I gulp at the sight of her looking so forlorn. Her hand clenches around mine, her long fingers lacing with my calloused ones. 

“So’lek, you misunderstand me. You do not have to do anything or go anywhere. We are Sarentu, and the Sarentu stay together. No matter what.” She attempts a smile, but only a small downward quirk of her lips peeks through. “You cannot change your feelings, So’lek. I should not have avoided you. I was just hurt a-and upset. That you don’t want me…the way I want you.”

I wrench back like I was struck, body startling and arm ripping from her grasp. 

“What?” My voice is rough, wet with emotion that I can no longer contain. I am breathing heavy, the beginnings of panic racing throughout the length of my taut body. I shake my head frantically side to side in denial. My next words are loud, final. 

“Do not say I do not want you, Tamtey.”

Tears glisten in my eyes, welling up at the innermost parts of my eyes. Tamtey blurs in my vision, but still I continue. 

“I love you. More than anything I have ever known.” I know that now is the time to let it all out, to tell her of everything I have been thinking. To show her the real So’lek. 

She is watching me with matching tears in her eyes, fingers locked together to prevent herself from reaching out to me. Knowing I have her attention, I go on. I tear open my chest and let Tamtey see its contents. My heart. 

“You are the first thing I think of when I awake. The first thing I think of before closing my eyes for sleep. I find myself aching for your presence and your touch. At all times of the day. I reach for you even when you are not there–” I suck in a breath so I can continue my speech of devotion. “I think of you even in my sleep. I dream of you. Of us.” My voice cracks on the latter word. I know I must keep going, or else I will stop. She has to know it all. My throat is tight, and my words are warbled from the tears I choke on. 

“I see you, and I see myself, years into the future, with wrinkles on our skin and children at our feet. I see myself sitting by the fire, too old to be a warrior, with you by my side, braiding new beads into my hair as you sing your Sarentu song. We live the rest of our days together.” I reach out to her, arms resting on her knees. “I dream of dying in your arms.” She is sobbing now, breaths broken and coming out in sharp gasps. I force myself to go even further for her. 

“But I cannot have this, ma yawne. I do not deserve this life. This future that so many of my people will never get to have. You are my entire life, but you are young, and you cannot tie yourself to me forever. Not like this. You will find someone who is stronger, faster, and pure. Not like me. I am polluted by hatred, and I forever will be.” 

Tamtey bawls, and I have no time to react as she jumps into my arms, wrapping herself around me in a tight embrace. I grasp onto her, and after being deprived of her for so many days, I am crazed. I run my hands along her back, squeezing her anywhere I can get my hands on. I rock her back and forth, and we are both crying so loudly. I cannot remember a time when I cried this much, not even when I found my people massacred before me. Or when Mamante died behind me. At this moment, I am glad no one is around, even if it means we are stuck in this horrible place until Teylan releases us. 

“Oh, So’lek.” In her usual Tamtey fashion, as soon as she pulls back, she is smacking me lightly on the chest. Chastizing. “Why couldn’t you just say all of that before? And here I was, ignoring you for days like a petulant child.” I sniff, reaching up to wipe the lines of tears from her rounded cheeks. Even now, she looks magnificent. 

“Do not cry, ma Tamtey. Not for me.” She lets out a sound of distress, hands trailing up my arms and onto my face. She holds me, cradling me like something delicate.

“You deserve all of that, So’lek, and you deserve to be happy. Your clan would want that for you, especially after all you have done for them.” She sounds so certain, and I open my mouth to immediately disagree with her. But she cuts me off, voice tender and warm. “You do. You are allowed to live a long life, filled with love. We can have that together. You and me. The rest of the Sarentu. Let yourself have this, Ma So’lek.”

My hands cover hers where they fall across my cheekbones, and I take in a long breath. I center myself, thinking of what to say next. But I do not know what to say. Can that be true? Knowing all that I have done and continue to do. Do I deserve to settle one day and live in peace at last? I am a murderer, through and through. I will never escape that. But Tamtey stares at me so lovingly, so earnestly. I see truth in her eyes, and I want nothing more than to believe her. To trust her with myself completely. 

“Do not continue to carry your burdens alone, So’lek. I am here now– so share them with me. I am here with you, forever. As your mate.” My eyes clench shut at the word, blinking out the remaining tears leftover in my yellow eyes. I can feel the throb in my head forming due to all of this crying. My mate. She wants to be my mate. It sounds so sure coming from her mouth, and I know that I will never long for anything more than I long to call her mine. 

“I want that ma Tamtey. I want you.” 

She finally smiles at me, teeth meeting air as her eyes gather at the sides. She is light personified. She leans in, kissing me gingerly on the forehead. I feel so precious in this moment. Loved. 

“Bond with me, Tamtey. It would be the greatest honor of my life.” Tamtey giggles at the words, but I have never been so serious. She explores the depths of my irises, searching for any sign of hesitation. I know she finds none. 

“Okay, ma yawne, okay.” She looks around us, remembering that we are still locked within the suffocating walls of human invention. “But not here,” she adds. 

“Yes.” I nod in agreement, tilting my chin to allow my lips to meet hers. We kiss without heat, only pure adoration. I savor the moment, adding it to the pocket of Tamtey in my mind. She pulls away first, hands going to her neck to contact Teylan. 

“Teylan, let us out. We talked.” She is vague, but I can hear the lilt of playfulness in it. Ah, so she will be keeping this a secret. What a nice surprise it will be for the other members of our clan.

The young boy’s response is almost immediate: “Are you telling me the truth?” He sounds so hopeful, and So’lek cannot help the endearing chuckle that leaves his lips at the sound of it. 

“She tells the truth, Teylan. We are better. Now open that door before I find another way out of here.” I hear a squeak on the other end of the line, before the familiar sound of heavy machinery makes its way throughout the room. The door behind us slides open with a beep, filtering natural light into the room. Together, Tamtey and I stand with our hands grasped together. We walk outside in silence, soaking in each other's company. 

As we get back to our ikran, I feel nothing but peace in my chest. All traces of anxiety and insecurity are gone. I snatch a treat for Iley out of my travel pack, rewarding him for waiting so patiently. It is nearly night now, Tamtey, and I must have been inside for quite a long time. I relish in the colorful radiance of the eclipse, turning to Tamtey. 

“I know of a spot for us. I will race you there.” She looks back at me, amused shock on her delicate features. She parts her lips, response on the tip of her tongue. But I do not give her the chance. Instead, I hop onto Iley, launching into the air. I cannot help but laugh as I hear the expletives fall from Tamtey’s mouth while she chases after me. 

  ♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

We make it there in minutes, my impatience spurring me to pick a spot close by. It is within a deep cave system, surrounded by thick bundles of moss, vines, and various other flora. Surrounded by Eywa’s creations. 

We land at the opening where I jump before Iley even hits the ground, walking to Tamtey to offer her my hand in helping her off of Nimun’s back. She takes it, giggling. Together we walk to the cavern entrance, slowly and relishing in eachothers presence. 

I lead her down the spiralling tunnel that is glowing with bioluminescence, plush leaves, and mushrooms decorating the walls and ground. We hop through it gracefully, pushing and pulling at one another like children playing in the forest. At some point, she races ahead of me, jumping across a large gap and running ahead. I huff as I watch her run away from me, laughing. I jump after her, chasing with my own laughter stuck in my chest. Tamtey is fast, but my legs are longer. I reach her in seconds, pulling at the length of her tail to stop her in her tracks. She turns, hissing playfully at me. I hiss back, following her deeper into the caves. 

Finally, we reach an opening at the bottom. We stop first to take in the beauty around us. It is dark, but aglow with small specs of colored light, radiating from cave roots and kurslärwll. It is an enchanting sanctuary away from the eyes of others, and all ours for the night. It is perfect. 

Tamtey and I circle each other like predators preparing for a fight for dominance. Our tails lash behind us, teeth bared in snarls as we assess each other. I am crouched, prowling across the ground like a hunter waiting to strike. Across from me, Tamtey matches my actions, knees bent and fingers pressing on the moss below us as she comes to a stop. I stop as well, we both stay still on our feet, legs stretched and hearts racing. My snarl dies off, folding into a wide grin as I watch the woman I love. She crawls towards me, patches of bioluminescence illuminating her small steps and etching them into a short path. I sit down fully, tail thumping against the ground as Tamtey halts a head's width in front of me. From this position, she is taller than I am. I cannot help but smirk up at her, my ears flicking back in amusement.

Her large eyes narrow at me, assessing. I do not flinch back. Instead, I continue to stare at her, smiling smugly. Then there’s a brief flash of a smirk over her own face. I do not back down, continuing to sit comfortably before her. She watches me for a moment more, then takes one more long stride forward, crossing into my lap. She sits herself on my lap, rump landing in the space between my crossed legs, her long striped thighs wrapping around my waist. My arms come up to hold her at the slimness of her waist. She is propped up high, and I look up at her in wonder as she stares back down at me over the tip of her nose. I am still grinning like a lovesick fool, but I cannot stop.

 I find that I do not want to stop. After so many years, I want to be happy. With her.

She is everything, and I do not want to look away. She fills my entire being, like the blood that flows through my veins. I could remain nourished forever by just the sight of her. Tamtey hums low in her throat above me, bending at the neck to place a soft peck on my lips. I can feel her smile in it. We kiss softly for a few seconds, only pulling back so our noses can rub together in light motions. 

“This is what you have decided? There is no going back from this, ma Tamtey.”  She just rolls her eyes at me, growling under her breath.

“I know what I want, So’lek.” 

Her eyes flutter as my hands rub up and down the strip of bare skin between her loincloth and her chest guard. 

“What do you want?” The lowness of my voice rolls off my tongue, quiet in the little space left between us. 

Her response is deliberate, “You.”

At that, we no longer hesitate. Our mouths are on each other in a second, lips smacking and tongues clashing. She groans into my mouth as my hands pull her further down to brush against my crotch. It is an invitation. One she eagerly accepts. 

Tamtey and I have not done much more than kiss before this moment. Our intimate relationship had not progressed further than light touches and what Tamtey calls ‘making out’. It is not that we do not want to. I want it more than anything to be close to her. But, Tamtey is so special to me, and I wanted–want–everything to be perfect.

Her hips roll against my own, pushing against me with little force. The position does not allow our middles to touch completely, so I take it upon myself to shift us slightly. I move her by the grip I have on her waist, lifting her up as I uncross my legs beneath her. They unfurl, widening to let Tamtey’s body closer. I put her back down, my own hips rutting upward to meet her wider ones. We move against each other, drinking in each other's gasps. My hands move away from her waist, trailing down to the roundness of her rear. My fingers grasp onto fatty flesh, massaging in a way that has Tamtey moaning in delight. I moan back, using the new grip to pull her against me harder. 

I can hardly breathe, chest rising and falling rapidly. I curse, forcing myself to pull back from her. My hands fly to her face, tracing down the lines of her cheekbones as she sucks in air. 

“Why’d you stop?” A human word. My lip turns up in amusement at both her impatience and her slip into sky people tongue. She is so perfect. 

I tsk at her with my tongue, urging her to sit back a bit. I hold her at arm's length, biting my lip as my eyes track down the lines of her body. They catch at the intricacies of her chest guard, the way the colors and materials weave together in a perfect blend of different clans' designs. I want it off of her. 

My fingers inch their way to the fabric, gripping it. My eyes lock onto hers. 

“Can I take this off?” 

She smiles. Blushes. Purple glows faintly beneath her skin. A nod. I take a breath, fingers untying the ties that keep the chest guard closed around her. Slowly, it unravels, and I can finally peel the piece away from her skin. I am cautious, but I am sure the hunger in my eyes is clear. On an exhale, it is removed. I toss it unceremoniously across the small clearing, eyes locked onto her neck. I swallow and finally let my gaze travel down to her newly bared chest. 

Tamtey has always been modest. A trait I am sure the humans beat into her head. But now, I finally see all of her. 

Her breasts are small, like all Na’vi women, but they have a roundness that my mouth waters at. They sit perked up, nipples pebbled in the air. 

My hands are on her in a blink, sliding down her collarbones to find the swells on her chest. My fingers bend, cupping her breasts. I let them feel and squeeze the soft skin there. I am enchanted. I give Tamtey no warning as my mouth finds one of her nipples. I suck and bite at the textured skin, groaning at the feel of her in my mouth. The breast I do not lick at is prodded at by my fingers, thumb brushing back and forth on the hardened nub in slow, deep motions. 

I am a man starved, lapping at her breasts like a hungry beast. I am overcome with desire, switching between the two of them like a crazed man. She is moaning above me, hands weaving in between the strands of my black hair, pulling lightly as I suck greedily at her tits. I pull at the skin of her breasts with my fangs, leaving purple bruises behind as I lick across her sternum. She pulls at my hair roughly, forcing my head back. I look up from where I am bent, lips swollen as my eyes meet hers. She is flushed, lips glossy from biting them. 

“Lay back.” My words are strained, throat tight with arousal. Tamtey moves back, lowering to her elbows so she can still watch me. From there, I pull back, removing my thighs from where they still lie beneath her own. I get to my knees, grabbing her knees where they now sit bent. I ease her legs down to the floor, hands moving to untie her loincloth. I am quicker with this than I was with her chest guard. Now I am impatient, aching for her. 

It comes off far easier and quickly gets thrown somewhere near her abandoned chest piece. 

My large hands latch onto her muscular thighs, wrenching them apart as her core now lies bare to me. Suddenly, I am on my stomach, nose buried into her mound. I take in a large breath, taking in her scent. It is heady and thick. Mouth-watering.

Then my mouth is on her, tongue lapping between the wetness I find between her folds. It is unlike anything I have ever tasted. I moan into her, the curve of my tongue dipping inside for an even deeper taste. She is a mess above me, thighs flinching, trying to close in on me. My hands keep her spread as I continue to pleasure her. 

I keep switching between circling her nub with my tongue and suckling on it roughly. I am messy, my face wet with her juices. But  I do not stop. My jaw is tired, but I persist until I hear her moans quicken above me. They come at shorter intervals, increasing in pitch and volume. I focus all of my attention on her clit, biting softly at the hood. That pushes her over the edge.

She comes with my name on her lips. 

I lick her through it, slurping up her release and guiding her even further over the edge. She whimpers above me, gently tugging on my hair. I finally come up for air, the back of my hand meeting my lips to wipe off the glisten I know is there. Tamtey’s chest is rising and falling rapidly as she tries to catch her breath, her mouth open and eyes clenched closed. My own widened in awe at the sight of her so taken apart. I had never done such a thing to a female before. I like my lips, the taste of her still lingering on my skin. 

I quite like it. 

My hands rub soothing circles into her thighs as she comes down from her high. I sit still on my knees, urging my hips to stay down as I throb beneath my loincloth. I yearn to take it off. 

Tamtey opens her eyes, settling her gaze on my own once again. We stare at each other with love in our eyes, threatening to jump out of our eyesockets. One of her hands crawls up my arm, pulling on it to bring me closer to her. I follow without hesitation, going to her like a reyknap to a flame. Her breathing has returned to normal, and the thundering of her heart in her chest has quietened to a softer sound akin to that of pattering drums. I can feel it where our chests meet. Then, her nimble fingers crawl around my front, then my side, and finally down my back. They linger there, tracing mindless patterns. We stare into each other's eyes, the cold skin on my back tingling as I feel her hand cautiously find my braid. My breath hitches, eyes flickering to her arm as she brings my kuru up and between our chests. I watch as she nudges aside the hair to get to the tendrils of my kuru. Carefully, she touches the tips of the tendrils, letting them curl around her pointer finger. My tongue darts out to wet my lips; I can feel them starting to quiver. 

Tamtey smirks up at me, playing with the little tendrils until I shudder above her. 

“Tamtey.” My voice is firm. Pleading for her to stop teasing me. She listens, pulling her finger back but keeping my kuru held in her other hand. I am a wreck, motionless as I watch her bring her own kuru to mine. She stops, looking at me. All I can do is nod. 

At last, our kurus meet, tendrils threading together into one sturdy bond. Tsaheylu is made, and Tamtey and I both pant at the utter passion that floods our systems. My pupils fatten at the emotion that runs through me. 

I see it all. Everything Tamtey has ever done and has ever been. Everything that she wants to be. I see her mother, Kataru. Her being ripped away by the RDA and taken to TAP.  Aha’ri getting murdered in front of her. Tamtey’s screams. The cries.

I flinch at the memory of the sound. 

I see Tamtey being beaten by Mercer’s thugs for standing up for Teylan. Over and over again. Her being starved. Her growing up feeling like she was nothing. Nothing but an alien. Foreign. 

I see the day she is put to sleep, the day she sees me. Her first meeting with a true Na’vi. I watch as she grows into a mighty warrior, a noble Sarentu, and an admirable Na’vi. I see all of the pain and worry. I see her love for me, blooming from where it was burrowed in her heart, out into the open for me to see. I feel her in this moment. The desire, the trust, and the tenderness she holds for me in her boundless heart. 

In return, I open myself wholly to her. I show her my life and how I have become the man I am today. All of my pain and my suffering. Losing everyone I have ever loved. Wawen. Mamante. The list goes on. I show her my days alone, spanning into years. The guilt I felt at being one of the last of my clan. The guilt I still continue to feel. I show her all of my triumphs and all of my failures, too. Bonding with Iley, and overcoming a fear I still try my best to hide. I show her my journey. My fear. Finding the resistance and my path to becoming the Dog Tag Warrior. The path of a warrior-turned-murderer. 

Finally, I show her herself. Me, finding Tamtey. Looking upon her face for the first time, and believing there could still be something to live for. 

Mentoring her.

Getting to know her. 

Becoming her friend. 

Falling deeper in love with her after each passing of eclipse. The joy I feel just by seeing her smile. The overwhelming devotion I have for her. This moment.

I let her feel my attraction to her. My nerves. I let her feel the fear that I have of somehow disappointing her. Hurting her.

I want her to be mine, until we return ourselves to Eywa. 

Our bond fortifies, kurus wrapped so closely together they look like one. Tamtey’s eyes are wet with tears, and I can feel that mine are the same. She lets her hands fall to my waist, hastily removing my loincloth and kicking it away, all without looking. They wander up to my shoulders, clasping the muscle there. 

“Take me.” 

It is whispered, yet I swear it echoes in the cavern around us. The sound resonates in the depths of my ears. It reaches my gut, thick and all-encompassing. 

I growl low in my throat, hitching her thighs up and over my hips to latch behind my waist. I am hard, my shaft standing tall in the air. One of my hands moves from Tamtey’s legs, grabbing myself in my hand and bringing it towards her entrance. It is so wet, sticky with her previous release. I run the head of my cock over her folds, testing the waters. She moans lightly above me. 

Even with no experience, my body knows what to do. Instinctively, I push the head in, waiting for any sign of pain from my beloved. All I get in response is a gasp. Her walls clench around my tip, urging it to go in deeper. I oblige, sliding fully inside her in one thrust. We both moan, mine deep and hers high as the skin of my hips meets her ass. She is mewling beneath me, my hands finding her waist to squeeze in comfort as I force my hips to calm. Ma Eywa, she feels so tight around me. So hot and soaked through. 

“More!” She moans at me. It takes nothing for me to begin to thrust in and out of her sex. At first, I am slow, gauging her reaction. But, as her moans only grow louder, I get faster. I pump in and out of her, shifting my hips to try and find new angles. I let out an unrestrained whimper, overcome with sensitivity. I let nature guide me. 

My hands move Tamtey’s body on their own free will, hiking her legs from around my waist to up and over my shoulders. She is bent in half, knees to her chest, as I slam into her with renewed vigor. The angle is somehow even better than before. I am deeper this way, and pushing into Tamtey at such an angle that she becomes a withering mess. 

I groan out her name, “Tamtey.” She sobs at the sound of my voice. “Come on, sweet girl, come on.” 

My hips are relentless in their pace, pounding into Tamtey like they were made to do so. One of my hands edges between our bodies, fingers finding her swollen mound with ease. I find her clit, still fat and slick with her wetness. I rub at her with my fingers, circling her most sensitive spot in quick movements as I tilt my hips up just an inch more. She cries out above me.

“Ah–So’lek!” She is whining, words trailing off into incoherent mumbles as I thrust. Only a few more pumps of my hips, and she is pliant in my arms, screaming out my name as she comes. Her walls tighten even more around me, squeezing out my own release. I come with a whine, moans trembling out past my lips as I spurt continuously inside of her. My hips do not stop until every drop is gone. Slowly, I stop, holding myself still within her. Gloved in her warmth. 

My chest shudders, my heart pounding in my chest as I try to regain some sort of clarity. I look down at my mate. My mate. She is even more beautiful beneath me. Her skin is glistening with sweat, her tanhi sparkling in the low light of the caves. Her eyes are fluttering, legs still twitching with aftershocks. I massage them, settling her. 

Together, our breaths lighten and our chests steady. Our bond still holds strong, kurus entangled like vines on a tree. My hands slide from her legs to her face, cupping her cheeks. I lean down, pressing gentle kisses across her face. Her eyelids, her nose, her forehead and her lips. Over and over again. I am smiling wider than I ever have. I pull back.

“I see you, ma muntxate.” She giggles at the name, hands moving to rub against the bareness of my chest. She caresses me, intimately, but not sexually. I feel so soft beneath her hands. 

“I see you, ma muntxatan.” Her reply is like a song, and I cannot help but to fall gently on top of her, wrapping myself around her as I do my best to stay sheathed within her. I burrow into her neck, lips resting on the flushed skin. I whisper words of longing to her. Words of promise and devotion. 

We are mated before Eywa. 

It is the one thing I have selfishly wanted for my entire life, and now I have it. Tamtey has allowed me to have it.

Here in my arms. For the rest of our lives. 

CHAPTER ONE - TAKING UP THE MANTLE

It was a rare moment Tamtey could catch her breath. It seemed all she did was hunt down the RDA one after the other, chasing down their next demented project and the next and the next.

Amay, her bonded, growled softly from behind her, nudging her shoulder gently. They were laying together on top of The Lone Zakru, above the camp now taking down the races and targets of the Great Games. The Zakru birthing ceremony was going well, but everyone was on edge. Talking about putting up defenses, contingency plans in case the RDA commit another one of their terrible acts.

Breathing deeply, Tamtey tried to release the weight in her chest, listening to the banner above her flapping in the constant wind of the Plains. She needed to fly more, clear her head, but for now the Ri’nela’s question rang through her head like an RDA alarm, dull panic included.

“Will you be our olo’eykte?”

The clan leader? How could she be a leader? Her whole schtick was being a ghost, unseen before she strikes. A leader must be present and know the answers to all the questions. How did Ri’nela do it? Take on a role that she had no example to aspire to? 

Gut clenching, she thought to herself, since these words should never be spoken aloud, I can’t do it.

Ri’nela had pulled her aside after communing with the Zeswa tsahìk, Minang, and olo’eykte, Nesim. She said that she hadn’t talked to the rest of the Sarentu clan before flying to see the Zeswa, but it had been on her mind. She said that having a leader would pull us closer together.

So’lek had told her there were many ways to lead. He certainly had some faith in her. It hadn’t been long since she parted from him to warn the Zeswa. Their bond all the stronger now that they were clan members. Beyond teacher and student, they were equals, or at least she hoped.

But now Ri’nela wanted her to lead him and the rest of the Sarentu?

While she tried to assimilate into Na’vi culture and customs, she couldn’t help but think that the guns she carried took her further from that. Could she ever fully leave behind her more human self? Rasi would make a better olo’eykte, she at least knew Sarentu traditions and stories.

As much as she hated to admit it, Tamtey still hardly knew what it was to be Na’vi, let alone a Sarentu. Nor may be extreme in his beliefs, but maybe Mercer raising her and the metal that surrounded her all her life had changed her more than she would ever know.

Humming to herself, Tamtey pulled out her hunting bow and fiddled with its upper limb, where a eyaye feather adorned it. Is this how her clan would have decorated their weapons? Not a thought crossed her mind without wondering about her people would have done something.

She needed to talk to someone about her dilemma, perhaps Entu would have more insight, if Eywa would bless her with his spirit. Wind whipped at her hair as she moved to mount Amay, braids sliding over her shoulder. Taking one last look over the vastness of the plains, the reds and purples exaggerated in the fading light, she breathed deeply. Eywa would guide her.

~~~

Night fell quickly across the plains. The flat lands speckled with bioluminescence resembled the star filled sky. Naranawm looked down on the land from his high perch, illuminating the night along with his many moons.

Tamtey dived with Amay, searching for the entrance to the Swokurwll, the Tree of Echoes. A glowing pink cave entrance caught her attention, alerting Amay to land nearby. A couple of Zeswa lingered at the entrance, talking urgently with each other. The news of Hometree in the Kinglor Forest will bring many to commune with Eywa. Guilt crept into the edges of her awareness, guilt at her focus of taking up the mantle of olo’eykte instead of fighting a war. Perhaps it comes from participating in so much battle already, she has grown numb to the impending, inevitable fight.

Walking into the the cave, whispers reached her ears.

“The Sarentu--”

“Eywa is on our side with that one here--”

“She will guide us-”

Tamtey always had always had eyes on her, the other clans looked at her like she came back from the dead. And to them, she very well did. But the acclaim fell flat to her, not that she particularly loved the fame. She felt closer to her ancestors by playing the role of diplomat, but she failed… didn’t she? The RDA was still here and still torturing this planet.

Not wanting to listen anymore, she stalked to the Swokurwll, glowing pink across its large petals and pearlescent tendrils. Instantly, the atmosphere was reverent, a distant waterfall rumbled and echoes of water pitter-pattering on the stone floor of the cavern dulled her racing thoughts.

“Eywa, please, show me my path. I don’t know if I can-- if I see the way forward,” Tamtey reached for her kuru and made tsaheylu with the Swokurwll. Her mind’s eye awoke, pulling her into Eywa’s consciousness.

No longer in the Plains, the Kinglor Forest unraveled beneath her, the sprawling trees and vines creating a web of interconnected life tightly woven together. All at once, she saw clusters of trees and the mites that lived between the grooves of their bark. Could feel the yoten crawling on her just as she saw once skitter over a log. Rays of glittering sunlight kissed her skin, and she was warm and alive. The forest breathed as she breathed.

Connecting with Eywa was always a relief, but came with overwhelming sensation. It was a wonder how a tsahìk was able to find their answers so easily when focusing on one element in this scene could lose her for hours. Eywa cradled her soul and showed her own, massive and sprawling, one in response.

Pulling her focus back, Tamtey repeated, “Please, show me where I am meant to be.”

A winzaw called in the distance. Ears flicking toward the sound, Tamtey started walking in its direction. While the creatures that had been taken from the Plains and Clouded Forest by the RDA ended up wandering loose in the Kinglor Forest, it must mean something more here. A flrrtsawl’s low bellow sounded behind her, even closer to her than the deer. Pausing mid-step, Tamtey whipped around, trying to spot the long, pink sails.

Other animal chirped, yipped, growled, creating a chorus together. One after the other, creatures she had never heard before. Some fearsome, some quiet, and some sad. Torn between what she knew and what she didn’t, Tamtey stood still, the wind starting to pull at her hair and clothing. Stronger and stronger it became, seemingly pulling the voices toward the sky, blurring them together. All at once, they amplified, and it was all too much.

Clutching her skull, Tamtey dropped to her knees, “No, nonono— please, I can’t—!”

~~~

“—entu? Sarentu, are you with us?”

Tamtey woke with a start, tightly closing her eyes at the light of the fire. Minang called for a hunter to find Ri’nela.

“How long was I out for?”

“Not long, tsamsiyu. One of the Zeswa found you fallen below the Swokurwll. Asking difficult questions or facing even more difficult answers?”

The Zeswa, ever direct, their spiritual leader embodied that more strongly than any other na’vi, aside from maybe her sister. “I— I do not know if I remember everything, I just know it became too much.”

Minang hummed, “Eywa sees all and knows all, sometimes we must prepare ourselves to see the truth before we face it. Though,” she glanced over to Tamtey from her work, “I know of some who face all their challenges head on.”

Chuffing, Tamtey said, “I have not had much choice these last couple of years. It is all I know since learning this new world.”

Ri’nela ducked in under the entrance of the tent, “I am so glad you are awake, I was worried about you,” she squatted over her, worry written across her face, “although I should say I have been worried about you, ever since we talked earlier.”

“Do not worry, Ri’nela. I am fine. It is just everything catching up to me. It has been a rough couple of months.”

Ri’nela sighed, her tail swishing behind her, “But that is what I worry about. You have been through so much and then I ask you to consider—“

“We have all been through so much. I cannot claim to suffer more than any one of us. Alma, Raj, Jin, and Hurit… They’re gone as well as many others.”

“I just want you to know that you do not have to suffer through this alone.”

Tamtey relaxed, realizing she was fisting the blanket and her ears were pinned back, “Of course I am not alone, I have you and Teylan. Nor, Rasi… and So’lek.”

It was still odd to call him one of the Sarentu. Of course, he was always apart of their clan, just on the fringes, never fully assimilating. He was always there, from the very start, a guardian that kept to the shadows. Mostly.

“Please, I know I can hardly call myself tsahìk, but—but I want to learn how to help you. And I can’t if you don’t tell me.”

“Give yourself some credit, you are the best Sarentu tsahìk I know.”

Ri’nela smiled, “I will only give myself credit when you do the same.”

Tamtey looked away, ears turning down once more, “I… I will keep thinking about what you asked. I appreciate you thinking of me and I agree that choosing an olo’eyktan will solidify our identity as Sarentu, but…I do not think it can be me.”

Ears flipping back, Ri’nela said, “I did not mean to place so much on your shoulders, Tamtey. Teylan and Nor, they did not tell me they need an olo’eykte. The thought came to me after So’lek joined us. Rasi would be ideal, but her heart still needs to heal. Our clan will grow with time… and it would be nice not to be alone.”

The burden on Ri’nela’s shoulders were great. While she learned from Minang and Anufi, she must feel overwhelmed with building the Sarentu from the ground up. The urge to agree overcame her, to help her sister with this burden. But even as she went to open her mouth, her gut churned and panic numbed her hands.

This isn’t something to agree to without more thought. The weight that had been placed on Nesim, Ka’nat, Anufi… they were responsible for so much. Tamtey was hardly ever nearby and she couldn’t lead through the radio. Fighting was easy, second nature, but being the one that everyone looked up to for guidance? She’s the one to take guidance, to follow direction, she couldn’t provide it for others.

“Give me some time, perhaps we should wait until the RDA is not as much of a problem.” It was chickening out if she had ever heard it, she just needed more time to come around to it.

Ri’nela’s smile was sad, she knew it too. After wishing Tamtey a restful night, she walked quietly through the tent entrance, her tail whipping side-to-side in distress. Disappointing her sister hurt more than the thought of leading blind.

Minang slipped back into view. So, she heard it all. Being so abnormally quiet, Tamtey forgot she was there.

“It is a heavy responsibility. It is wise to think it over. Just do not dwell too much within yourself to forget what is within reach,” she said, handing her a tompatayng flask, “Take this, drink it to ease any light-headedness.”

Accepting the dismissal for what it was, Tamtey stood uneasily and stepped out of the tent with flask in hand. Lifting it up to her nose, it smelled suspiciously of zangke mixed with some herbal scent she could not identify.

Fires crackled and boisterous Zeswa wrestled even as the the moons reached their zeniths, as usual. It was good to see the looming threat of the RDA couldn’t dispel all of the joy found at the camps.

But it was time for her to find a sleeping tent and try to find actual rest. It would be another long day tomorrow, reaching out to the camps up north, warning them of the impending threat.

“Just another day.”