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If it had been anyone else, Ao’nung probably wouldn’t have been able to find a single bone in his body that cared. In fact, he would’ve rolled his eyes at the situation, a sour taste being left behind on his tongue for even trying to catch someone’s attention. 

Only, it hadn’t been anyone else. And for some reason, Ao’nung couldn’t get Teyam out of his head, no matter what he did or who he thought about in an attempt to distract himself. 

At first, he had found it annoying. Some random boy he had known for maybe ten minutes total was plaguing his thoughts and refusing to get out of his head. But then, when Ao’nung’s mind began to wander, replaying their short-lived interaction as if it were the highlight of his life, that irritation quickly morphed into something else. Something he couldn’t quite bring himself to name. 

Ao’nung wasn’t blind, after all. He had a pair of perfectly working eyes that were good for more than just glaring at those who inconvenienced him. And unfortunately (or, well, fortunately, depending on how you looked at it), Ao’nung could see what had been put in front of him. 

Teyam was attractive. In all senses of the word. 

He was cute; he was hot; he could be whatever he wanted to be. Ao’nung wasn’t going to deny him that.

With rich, dark, mahogany skin that practically glowed, Ao’nung wanted to do nothing more than rake his eyes across the dewy, smooth expanse before him. From the way his hair had been meticulously pulled back into thin braids, Ao’nung considered what it might feel like to run his hands through them. And with chocolate eyes that, in some lighting, when the sun hit them just right, turned amber, Ao’nung wanted them trained on no one other than him.

Yeah, it was bad… Ao’nung had totally been entranced. Gone before he even knew what was happening, and could try to fight it. Not that Ao’nung would, he had come to begrudgingly realise. Because while Teyam was consuming his every waking thought, Ao’nung wouldn’t change a thing about that. 

But, out of all of those things that Ao’nung had just listed (and could continue to talk about for at least an hour if you got him going), none of them had been what first caught his attention. No. Hadn’t been what lured him in.

It was Teyam’s mouth that got Ao’nung. Hook, line, and sinker. 

The moment he had heard his voice from across the store, Ao’nung knew he was a goner. 

It was like nothing he had ever heard before. Velvety in a way that made Ao’nung never want to stop listening to it, soothing as it floated through the small store, alluring to the point Ao’nung was unable to resist. 

Ao’nung already knew he could get used to hearing Teyam talk forever. Could already imagine late-night phone calls where he listened to the other boy's day, long walks where Teyam could rant and rave about whatever was bugging him, and moments shared just between them that Ao’nung could cherish. 

It was sickening. Absolutely so. 

There was also Teyam’s laugh. A sweet, melodic symphony that breezed through Ao’nung’s ears and danced in his chest. 

When Ao’nung himself had somehow found a way to pull that noise from Teyam, he had never felt prouder. His heart swelling with an unmistakable pride that made him vow to do whatever it took to hear that sound again. 

And, oh, his lips. Don’t get Ao’nung started on Teyam’s lips. 

With full, heart-shaped lips that had a subtle downturn to them at the corners, making it seem as if a soft pout was permanently residing on his face, Ao’nung had never seen a more kissable mouth. 

Which was more or less a problem, since Ao’nung didn't exactly make it a habit to stare at people's lips and determine if they were hot based on that feature alone. Ao’nung also didn’t fantasise about kissing people’s lips… he’d just like to put that out there on the record. 

So, maybe Ao’nung didn’t want to name it. But it most definitely had a name for itself by now, and there wasn’t much Ao’nung could do about that.

It was a shame that Ao’nung hadn’t gotten the boy’s number, really. Maybe if he had, he’d be able to get Teyam off his mind after realising he wasn’t all that. Though Ao’nung could already tell that wouldn’t have been the case. If Teyam had occupied his thoughts this much after only ten minutes, being able to text him probably wouldn’t have made Ao’nung’s situation any better.

At least Hawaii wasn’t very big. For all of Ao’nung’s complaining, it arguably wouldn’t be too hard for him to try to track Teyam down if his infatuation got any worse. Teyam had, after all, stumbled across Ao’nung’s place of work, meaning he probably didn’t live too far. 

Was Ao’nung going to try and do that though? No. Definitely not. He wasn’t that insane. 

That just, unfortunately, meant that Ao’nung needed to keep his hopes down and his mind off of coincidentally running into Teyam again, since it clearly hadn’t been working out for him so far. 

Which was exactly what Ao’nung was doing now.

It was, after all, the summer holiday. And while meeting a mysterious new hot guy who just moved into town fell into the category of activities to do while on break, Ao’nung couldn’t allow himself to sit around at home on a Friday evening wallowing over a boy he didn’t know. 

So, Ao’nung did what any teenager would do: he found himself with his normal circle of friends at the tiny convenience store near his house, drifting through the aisles with no real purpose in mind. 

“Yo, Ongu, could you grab me some Red Bull while you’re back there?” Nash’vi’s voice cut through the small space, louder than necessary, as he called for the retreating boy’s attention. Ao’nung’s eyes instinctively shot over to them at the noise, noticing how Ongu had momentarily paused to hear Nash’vi out, while Koro was lazily scanning the different bags of chips in front of him. “I don’t think I can make it much longer without.”

“Yeah, I’ve got you, Man,” Ongu responded, giving Nash’vi a lazy smile to ensure the other that he’d heard him loud and clear. Before turning to retrieve Nash’vi’s drinks, Ongu caught the rest of their group's attention as he quickly asked, “Ao’nung, Koro, you want anything?”

“Can you get me some of those spicy red sticks?” Koro asked after eyeing the different brands of snacks in front of him, eventually having to tear his gaze away to set it on Ongu. The frizzy-haired boy had been plastered in front of that display for a few minutes now, meticulously going through the different options even though they were always the same and never to his liking. “You know, like, the really artificial ones?”

With a pinch of his brows, Nash’vi slowly turned to face Koro, disbelief written across his features. In an exasperated grimace, he took a wide shot into the dark and asked sceptically, “Takis?”

“Yeah, those,” a small grin grew on Koro’s face as he spoke, clapping Nash’vi on the back in thanks before shooting Ongu a look to make sure he had heard. Feeling a grimace of his own settle on his face, Ao’nung could already imagine the mess that would be waiting for him at the back of his car. “I’ve been craving some Takis.”

“Sure,” Ongu mused before turning to Ao’nung. With a raise of one of his brows, he silently checked in with Ao’nung to see if there was anything else he had to add to the list. 

Giving the other a sharp nod of his head in response, Ao’nung was two seconds away from opening his mouth and uttering out the specific brand of sour lollies he liked that he knew were sitting in the back corner of the store, when the convenience store’s door swung open, the little bell sitting above it jingling to announce the arrival of someone new. 

Instinctively craning his head towards the audible signal, Ao’nung’s gaze flickered over the newcomer with the intention of it being a sparing glance before putting his attention back on Ongu. But as his eyes landed on the person, Ao’nung felt himself freeze as the crashing realisation of who it was dawned on him. 

Teyam. 

In all of his beautiful, angelic glory, Teyam had stepped into the same convenience store as Ao’nung, shooting the cashier a brief, kind smile before disappearing into one of the many aisles. 

Feeling his face light up, Ao’nung positively beamed at the sight of the boy. 

All of Ao’nung’s earlier thoughts of not getting his hopes up were quickly thrown to the wind because he was here. Teyam was in the same store as him. He was once again within reach. Oh, this was great. This was amazing, in fact. 

Clearly, whatever god was out there was on Ao’nung’s side because he didn’t think he could have possibly wished for anything better. For something as perfectly coincidental as this to line up just as he began to lose faith in ever seeing the gorgeous boy again. It must’ve been fate. Ao’nung couldn’t see it as anything else since the universe was practically dangling a carrot in front of his face. 

This was Ao’nung’s chance to–

“Ao’nung?” Koro hesitantly asked, his voice slicing through Ao’nung’s thoughts as he sent Nash’vi a cautious sideways glance. “You good?”

“Huh?” Ao’nung blanked, his eyes not wanting to peel away from Teyam as his head physically turned to Koro. “What?”

“You spaced out, Dude,” Nash’vi muttered, brows furrowing as he regarded Ao’nung with a brief wave of concern. Ao’nung could see that worry build as he blinked owlishly at the pair, trying to catch up on what he had missed, but Ao’nung didn’t care about them. Couldn’t find it in himself to when his mind was already buzzing again. “Did you want Ongu to get you something… or?”

Right, Ao’nung thought as all the pieces of his previous conversation slotted back together in his head, that. He had been about to tell Ongu to grab him something, but had forgotten all about him and the others at the mere sight of Teyam, sucked in by the natural magnetic charm that surrounded him until all else was forgotten. 

“Nah, I’m good,” Ao’nung found himself saying before his mind could fully comprehend the words, his eyes already darting back to where Teyam had strolled down one of the aisles. 

Ao’nung really shouldn’t have been surprised by how his attention was stolen and locked in an unbreakable trance in a matter of seconds. If anything, he should’ve been prepared for how quickly he was waving his friends off and allowing his feet to carry him to where (or better yet, who) he had been longing to return to, fixated the second he became aware of who exactly he was staring at.

Absently, when Ao’nung noticed the still-confused glances his friends were shooting each other as he began to walk away, and while he was still within range, he announced a vague, “Give me a second. I think I know that guy,” over his shoulder, hoping that would be enough to satisfy their perplexion. 

Koro had tried to say something in return to that, but by the time the words had left his lips, his words fell on deaf ears, Ao’nung having already turned away with his sights locked on the one who had been plaguing his mind. 

Stalking his way down the aisles, Ao’nung could see Teyam not too far from him. With his back facing Ao’nung, his attention kept jumping between his phone and the different products lined out before him, searching for something specific. Every time Teyma moved in the slightest amount, Ao’nung would catch the way his braids shifted over his shoulders, the beads clinking together in a subtle symphony. 

It was captivating. But, as Ao’nung had quite quickly learned, everything about Teyam was infatuating. 

As Ao’nung approached, he couldn’t help but notice how focused the boy was. All of his attention was being poured into his task at hand, leaving him completely oblivious to the world around him. It reminded Ao’nung of how they first met, Teyam quietly jumping as he appeared unannounced. 

The thought, while it was attached to some… creepy behaviour on Ao’nung’s part as he had been silently observing Teyam from afar, brought a sly grin tugging at the corner of his lips. 

Perhaps now would be a good time to give Teyam some déjà vu. 

Silencing his steps until the squeak of his Air Force 1s was nothing more than a slight tap against the ceramic tile flooring, Ao’nung moved with a degree of precision that he only reserved for the surf or basketball court. He didn’t stop until he reached Teyam either. Coming up directly behind him, with deliberate stealth masking his actions. 

Somehow, just like before, Teyam took no notice of Ao’nung situated behind them, their close proximity doing nothing to stir him out of his thoughts. Ao’nung would say it was cute, how dedicated Teyam was to completing his task, but he had more important things he wanted to get off his chest first. 

Things that would pull just as much of a reaction out of Teyam, if not more, if he played his cards right. 

“We have got to stop meeting like this, Teyam,” Ao’nung teasingly announced without warning, a cocky smirk stretching its way across his face as Teyam’s spine shot up straight. 

With a sharp whirl, Teyam whipped around to face Ao’nung, his braids flying through the air as he did. For a quick moment, there was panic on Teyam’s face. An underlying surprise that he hadn’t been expecting, as he was caught off guard. But when his eyes landed on Ao’nung, all of that changed.

“Ao’nung,” he stressed, his eyes slipping shut and a hand reaching up to press against his chest, attempting to calm his rapidly beating heart as a sigh of relief tumbled out from his lips. 

Ao’nung ate up those few seconds diligently, drinking in the way Teyam’s lashes fanned out against his cheeks. Briefly, Ao’nung wondered if Teyam was wearing some sort of product on them, their length accentuated and shape curled acutely. But before Ao’nung could take a closer look, two honey-brown eyes were snapping open at him, a playful glare overcoming Teyam’s features. 

In quick succession, before Ao’nung could even react, the hand that had been plastered over Teyam’s chest was racing towards him, a light shove being delivered to his shoulder. The hit barely did anything. Not even making Ao’nung stumble. But by the mirthful look in Teyam’s eyes, he could tell it wasn’t supposed to.

“Don’t do that,” the boy huffed, though he was failing exceptionally to hide the smile that was threatening to take over his face. 

“Sorry,” Ao’nung mused, hands jokingly coming to hang in the air next to his head in mock surrender. The sly grin on his face did nothing to help his case, though. Instead of the sweet innocence that he was going for, Ao’nung was left looking like the troublemaker everyone knew him to be. “Couldn’t help myself.”

“Oh, really?” Teyam asked, one of his perfectly shaped brows arching up in disbelief. Ao’nung could tell that Teyam didn’t believe a word he said. Still, that didn’t stop him from nodding his head appeasingly, earning a playful scoff in return. “You better not make a habit out of randomly appearing behind me.”

“What? I would never,” Ao’nung gasped, a feigned look of distraught taking over his features. Luckily, it pulled a choked-out laugh from Teyam, the boy quickly working to silence it, instead of making him look like a fool. “But… maybe if you were paying better attention to your surroundings, it wouldn’t be so easy to sneak up on you.”

“So this is my fault?” Teyam scoffed, taking it as his turn to be offended as his arms crossed pointedly over his chest. 

“Well, kind of,” Ao’nung started, ready to place his hands on Teyam’s hips and pull him in slightly, hoping the vicinity would coat Teyam’s cheeks in a–

“No, I don’t want to hear it,” Teyam cut in before Ao’nung could make a single move, holding a hand up in front of Ao’nung’s face and silencing him. Not being able to do anything but stand there dumbly and blink at the slim fingers in front of his face, Ao’nung did exactly what Teyam told him to do as his brain fought to rewire. “Not a word from you.”

Spinning on his heel, Teyam turned his back on Ao’nung, a few of his braids lightly slapping his cheek as he went. Opening his phone once more, Teyam’s gaze flickered down to a list that had been sent to him. Studying it for all of two seconds, he seamlessly returned to his mission.

And what did Ao’nung do while Teyam was once again walking away from him? He stood there with a dopey smile on his face for a minute like a lovesick idiot before some sense was finally knocked into him when Teyam stepped into a different aisle. 

“Come on, don’t be like that, Teyam,” Ao’nung cooed, his feet slapping against the greasy floor as he trailed after the foreign boy. It didn’t take long for him to catch up. Only a few, mere steps until Ao’nung was once again exactly where he wanted to be: at Teyam’s side. Expertly barricading him in with a well-placed hand resting against one of the shelves near Teyam’s head, Ao’nung leered down at him, “I was only joking.”

Instead of receiving a dignified answer as Ao’nung had been expecting, hoping to see Teyam cast him a half-withering, half-amused glance that quickly resolved into a fit of impromptu laughter that he couldn’t control, Ao’nung was met with nothing but silence as Teyam didn’t even let his eyes stray from the different labels in front of him.

In fact, Teyam made it a point to completely ignore Ao’nung. Turning his nose up and letting out a quiet hmph. 

For a moment, Ao’nung might’ve thought he was in serious trouble if he hadn’t been able to catch sight of Teyam’s cracking expression, spotting the way the corner of his lips were twitching with every second that Ao’nung followed after him like a lost puppy.

If he had done something to offend Teyam, Ao’nung didn’t know what he’d do with himself… probably spend another nine days trying to figure out what.

That, at least, gave Ao’nung some hope. Teyam wasn’t mad at him; he was just playing hard to get. Cat and mouse, if you would. He was testing to see if Ao’nung would give chase, and if there was one thing Teyam would soon learn, it was that Ao’nung was always up for a good challenge. 

“Teyam,” he mused, leaning in until there was only a breath of air left in the space between them. Ao’nung was almost sure that the closeness would pull a reaction from the boy, but, like before, it did nothing. “Teyammm.”

Catching the briefest of movements from the corner of Teyam’s eyes, Ao’nung was blessed enough to have the boy’s chocolate eyes fixed on him for half a second before they were flickering away. But that half of a second was more than enough time for Ao’nung to catch him, a knowing smirk settling on his lips as he took in Teyam’s poorly concealed amusement. 

“I saw that,” Ao’nung accused, voice pitching (embarrassingly) higher as an undertone of urgency took up his words. “Don’t think you can ignore me forever.”

It seemed Teyam was intent on doing just that, though. Because instead of giving in to Ao’nung’s teasing, Teyam just ducked under his still raised arm and continued down the aisle, pretending as if Ao’nung wasn’t even there. 

There was no further break in his composure, no acknowledgment of Ao’nung falling into step behind him, and no signs of Teyam ever letting up and giving Ao’nung what he wanted: to have those honey-kissed eyes fixated on nothing but him, and to hear that melodic voice mirthfully entertaining him. 

But from there, it continued.

Teyam didn’t look back. Refused to. No matter how much Ao’nung pleaded, he purposely kept his gaze anywhere but on the Hawaiian. 

It was kind of infuriating, Ao’nung must admit, but in that spitfire kind of way. Teyan had a character to him, one that Ao’nung would love to crack open and get to know. But in order for him to do that, he needed the boy to stop ignoring him, even if it were only an act.

The perfect opportunity to do such a thing arose not too long after that thought crossed Ao’nung’s mind as well. 

Presenting itself in the form of Teyam reaching out for a bag of Angie's BoomChickaPop, the last packet on the shelf, in fact, Ao’nung beat him to the chase, snatching up the bag before Teyam’s soft fingertips (he could recount the feeling of them from when Teyam had handed him some cash to pay for his sister's swimsuit and towel and their hands had lightly brushed) could even graze the product.

Holding the bag of popcorn up high in the air before Teyam could even attempt to reclaim the food for himself, Ao’nung mischievously beamed down at him, glowing at the fact that Teyam had quickly spun around to face him, a small pout overtaking his lips. 

“Ao’nung,” Teyam subtly warned, wordlessly holding a hand out to him with the clear intention of having his popcorn handed back over to him. 

Of course, Ao’nung didn’t take Teyam seriously, though. Instead, he gave the bag a small shake, its salty contents rustling around while he fixed Teyam with an innocent smile. “Teyam,” he cooed back, not at all hiding the pleasure he was taking from the scene.

Not sharing the sentiment, Teyam fixed Ao’nung with a pitiful glare. A sight that only made Ao’nung revel in how cute the other seemed to be as Teyam’s nose scrunched and his brows furrowed. Really, who could blame Ao’nung? If they had been placed before such a dashing boy who had been purposely ignoring them up until now, he was sure they’d have the same thoughts. 

“I was trying to grab those,” Teyam announced, eyeing Ao’nung and his outstretched hand sceptically. Still, Teyam kept his own hand extended towards Ao’nung, patiently waiting for the other to see sense and return what he wanted. 

“Maybe,” Ao’nung casually shrugged, conceding on that part, even if he didn’t return the item back to Teyam just yet. That could wait. Especially when it had the foreign boy right where he wanted him. Letting his lips stretch into a lazy grin, Ao’nung couldn’t help but cockily point out, “But taking them got your eyes on me, didn’t it?”

For once, things went exactly the way Ao’nung had hoped them to, because as soon as those words left his mouth, Teyam paused. He completely blanked, an unbecoming squeak falling from his lips as his breath hitched and his hand quickly snapped towards his chest, almost as if he had been stung. 

Remember, earlier, when Ao’nung had said Teyam was cute, hot, and whatever he wanted to be? Well, add adorable to that list, because Ao’nung couldn’t think of anything else quite as fitting.

And maybe, just maybe, Ao’nung was enjoying this all a bit too much. Teyam had walked right into it, into him, practically gift-wrapped. Sue him for never really knowing when to leave something alone, because Ao’nung sure as hell wasn’t going to let this moment go to waste.

Not when he still had something Teyam wanted.

“How about this?” he stared, voice a teasing, disarming melody that he hoped would sweep Teyam off his feet and allow him to let his guard down. “I’ll give you back your popcorn if you answer a few of my questions first.”

Unconvinced, which, Ao’nung guessed he had every right to be, Teyam regarded Ao’nung for a long, unwavering moment. Taking in the way Ao’nung grinned as if he had already won, the bag of popcorn held just out of his reach, even if he were to press up onto his toes, and the lulling buzz of the convenience store, Teyam found himself backed into a corner. A fact he let be known as he crossed his arms over his chest and huffily, even if Ao’nung could spot a hint of delight swirling in his dark eyes, and muttered, “Fine.”

“Perfect,” Ao’nung mused, his face lighting up with an impish note to it as Teyam gave in to his whims. Not that he had too much of a choice, unless he wanted to forfeit his rights to the bag of popcorn. Though, Ao’nung wouldn’t have kept it from him if he really wanted it back. He wasn’t that annoying. “So, tell me, what’s got you running around here so late at night?”

“My siblings wanted to have a movie night,” Teyam supplied easily, cutting straight to the chase with a simple shrug of his shoulders, “and I volunteered to quickly go out and grab some snacks for us since we weren’t exactly well-equipped for such an activity.”

“Hmm,” Ao’nung hummed in acknowledgment, the choice of snack making clear sense. “Tuk?” he pondered aloud after a few quiet moments of Teyam looking at him expectingly, only knowing of the one girl.

Shaking his head ‘no,’ a few of the beads in Teyam’s braids clattered together. “I have three younger siblings,” he began. “This is for the other two.”

“Have you already picked out a movie?” Ao’nung asked next, hoping to get as much information out of Teyam before the boy decided he had had enough and demanded his popcorn back. Really, Ao’nung should be asking him about his siblings, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care much about them. Was that a bad thing to say? Maybe. But Ao’nung didn’t really care. He was there for Teyam, after all. “Or are you open to suggestions?”

Feeling his eyes swoop down to the curve of Teyam’s lips, Ao’nung felt himself grow entranced as he noticed a subtle sheen to them. It must’ve been lip gloss. Ao’nung had seen enough girls, his sister included, apply the product to be able to spot it from a mile away. 

The sight only captivated Ao’nung more, though. Drawing Ao’nung in as he watched the swell of Teyam’s lips part as he began to say–

“Yo, Ao’nung, who is this?” Koro abrasively questioned, never allowing for Ao’nung to hear Teyam’s dewy voice as he rudely cut into their conversation. Throwing an arm around Ao’nung’s shoulders, Koro made himself right at home by Ao’nung’s side, regarding Teyam with a great deal of interest and blatantly ignoring the glare Ao’nung was fixing him with. 

“Yeah, Dude,” Nah’vi came over next, Ongu not too far behind him. With their arms full of random snacks and drinks, it was clear that whatever time Ao’nung had bought from himself had run out, the distraction of shopping wearing off. “You’ve got to introduce us.”

Um, hello? No, Ao’nung didn’t have to introduce them. Teyam was his thing. He had found him fair and square exactly nine days ago. 

If Nash’vi, Koro and Ongu wanted a new friend, they could go and find some hooligan that fit their clique. They couldn’t have Teyam, especially when Ao’nung had plans that existed well outside the circumference of ‘friendship.’ 

Ao’nung wasn’t about to stand by and allow them to ruin that for him. 

But before Ao’nung could ward them off, before he could tell them to leave them be and allow Ao’nung a few more stolen minutes of Teyam’s time, Teyam was beating him to it. Although, he wasn’t exactly doing it in the way Ao’nung would’ve hoped for. 

Instead of being impatient and grumbling out his words like Ao’nung would have, Teyam wore a polite smile on his face (something he had been depriving Ao’nung of), regarding the three boys with nothing but kindness. 

“I’m Neteyam,” he began, an unmatched blend of charming and gracious as he interacted with Ao’nung’s friends. For the umpteenth time that day, Ao’nung thought he was listening to an angel speak as the rest of the world washed away from around him, making Teyam the only thing worth noticing. “I just moved to Hawaii a bit over a week ago, and Ao’nung was so kind to help me out on my first day here. But I’m sure the three of you will be just as charitable as he was.”

“Ao’nung? Charitable?” Koro had started saying, but Ao’nung barely caught it, his brain positively being yanked out from his skull as soon as he heard those words leave the foreign boy’s mouth. “Yeah, I don’t believe it.”

It wasn’t necessarily the second half of the boy’s sentence that Ao’nung cared about. He already knew all that, after all. Though, he wouldn’t mind hearing the other boy praise him once more. But, anyway, as Ao’nung had said, that wasn’t the important part. It was the first half that stuck out to him.

Neteyam. His name was Neteyam. After referring to him as Teyam in his head (and out loud) for so long, it almost felt wrong to call him anything else. But, oh, as if Neteyam wasn’t the most perfect name for the boy in front of him. Even if Ao’nung didn’t know the origin behind it, or if there was any hidden meaning attached to the name, it fit him seamlessly. Whoever had picked it out for him surely deserved an award for it, since the name alone left Ao’nung absolutely breathless. 

The only thing that could make Neteyam’s name any prettier would be a last name to fit it. And, although Ao’nung wasn’t one to boast, he could definitely think of one. Neteyam Tsika’u. It has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?

Too bad Ao’nung wasn’t allowed to sit and digest that information, though. Not when his friends were definitely running the risk of ruining everything he had been slowly working up to. 

“I’m Koro,” one of his friends in question began, not yet finding a reason to remove himself from Ao’nung’s side. 

With narrowed eyes, Ao’nung shot each of his friends a warning look, silently regarding them with piqued interest as he took in every word that left their mouths carefully. If he had to step in at any point to save that image he had built in front of Neteyam’s eyes, he would sure as hell do that at the drop of a hat. 

“And this is Nash’vi and Ongu,” Koro pointed at the two, Ongu giving a light nod of his head when he heard his name. Nash’vi, on the other hand, was inspecting Neteyam with the same intensity as Ao’nung had once done. Only, instead of infatuation residing in his eyes, it was something quieter. “The four of us go way back.”

“That’s nice,” Neteyam mused, soaking up the information with a kind smile. It wasn’t one dissimilar to the look he had shot Ao’nung when they had first met, something practised and for situations where people he wasn’t yet familiar with were involved. This time, however, there was something hidden beneath the pleasantries. Something that looked an awful lot like disinterest to Ao’nung. “I’m sure I’ll hear all about it from Ao’nung. Eventually."

“Yeah, sure,” Nash’vi drily muttered, not as open to playing nice as Koro had been as he stood off to the side, bulking at the seamlessly put-together attitude that Neteyam was exuding. “Well, it was nice meeting you, Neteyam, but I think it’s time we dip. This place is getting boring.”

“What? No,” Ao’nung immediately snapped when he heard Nash’vi’s claim, his brows furrowing at not only being caught in the middle of a coup, but having it decided for him that it was time to leave. Nash’vi wasn’t the one who got to call the shots around here, especially not when it came to him spending time with Neteyam. Ao’nung wouldn’t let that slide. “Teyam– I mean, Neteyam and I were talking before you all decided to interrupt us.”

“It’s fine, Ao’nung,” Neteyam announced before Nash’vi could rebut him, sending Ao’nung a casual shrug that told him that Neteyam didn’t mind the forced end to their conversation. But Ao’nung did mind. That was the problem. “I should probably get going now anyway. This was only meant to be a quick stop.”

Feeling his shoulders sag at the confession, Ao’nung couldn’t help but be a bit dejected by it all. 

He had waited nine days for this. Nine endless days of having his thoughts consumed by Neteyam, and it was being cut short because Nash’vi didn’t want to stand around a convenience store for a couple of extra minutes. 

It wasn’t fair. But it also wasn’t like Ao’nung could argue with Neteyam himself over this. If he said he had to go, then, unfortunately, Ao’nung guessed he had to let him go.

“Okay,” he muttered, ridding himself of Koro’s draped form. 

“I’m sure we’ll be able to see each other again soon, though,” Neteyam tried, noticing Ao’nung’s dolefulness immediately and instinctively offering up whatever reassurance he could. “I mean, we did somehow find each other again. It’ll only be a matter of time until we run into each other once more.”

“Yeah, I guess you're right,” Ao’nung agreed, even though he was having a hard time believing it. Even if by some higher power coincidentally ran into each other again, Ao’nung didn’t know if he could wait another nine days to do. He’d have to see what he could do about that once he got out of there. Still, with a tight-lipped smile, Ao’nung could only hope for the best and mutter, “Have a good night, Neteyam.”

“Yeah, you too, Ao’nung,” Neteyam smiled, that same mirthful grin from when Neteyam had first realised it was Ao’nung who snuck up behind him, lighting up his face. Instead of leaving after that though, Neteyam stayed deeply rooted to his spot, staring over at Ao’nung with expectant eyes. 

For half a second, in those moments where Neteyam was stood stock still before him, a small spark of optimism ignited inside of Ao’nung’s chest. Perhaps Neteyam had changed his mind and wanted to spend a few minutes with Ao’nung, or, maybe, he was going to ask Ao’nung if they could hang out sometime where they weren’t restricted by work, or little siblings, or disruptive friends.

But then Neteyam pointed at the bag of popcorn that Ao’nung was limply holding at his side, the Hawaiian having yet to give it back to him after promising to do just that once Neteyam had answered a few of his questions. “Could I, uh, have that back, please?”

“Oh, shit,” Ao’nung stuttered, fumbling over himself as he hurried to hand the snack back to Neteyam. What an absolute idiot he was. With a grimace, he apologised, “Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine,” Neteyam reassured once more when he had the food in his hands once more. With nothing else keeping him contained within the convenience store, or worse, keeping him around Ao’nung, Neteyam began to slowly back away from the group of four boys, his eyes glued to Ao’nung’s as he said, “Bye, Ao’nung. I’ll see you around.”

Not trusting his voice enough to respond, Ao’nung sent Neteyam a quick nod, attempting not to light up at the shy smile that was left in his wake.

“Bye, guys,” Neteyam then called out to Nash’vi, Koro and Ongu. In return, he received a chorus of muttered farewells, turning on his heel once he was satisfied with the response and officially parting from the group.

Watching him go, Ao’nung couldn’t peel his eyes off of Neteyam. Not even as his friends broke away from him, suddenly interested in spending more time in the convenience store, or as Neteyam lightly chatted with the college kid manning the front counter. Ao’nung was just… once again entranced with Neteyam, and their second conversation did nothing to lighten that feeling.

God, he was done for. What was that, twenty minutes total of conversation? Ao’nung could already feel himself trying to come up with a game plan to fully win Neteyam over, with no feigned annoyance of silent treatment next time. 

If Ao’nung even made it to whenever that ‘next time’ would be.

Spotting the worker hand Neteyam a plastic bag, a few extra items thrown into it that he must’ve picked up at the counter, Neteyam began making his way to the store’s glass door. Before Neteyam could open it though, he delivered a final nail to Ao’nung’s lovesick coffin as he paused to look back at him.

With a small, bashful smile, Neteyam raised his hand at Ao’nung, giving him a tiny wave that was for him alone. And, just as Ao’nung would quickly learn when it came to anything regarding the foreign boy, he was hopeless not to return it.

Author's Note: I've really got to break the trope of having Ao'nung be obsessed with Neteyam in my fics... too bad 😝 my next multi-chaptered fic Neteyam has Ao'nung wrapped around his finger, and a one-shot I have in the works is more or less an established relationship fic, so Ao'nung is already meant to be obsessed 🤷‍♀️

Also, do you guys like it when I put chapter excerpts as the summary for every chapter? I do it so people who are subscribed to the fic get a lil sneak peek in the email that's sent out, but idk how I feel about it 😒

Shifting on the mattress, the worn-out springs creaking beneath him as he threw his legs over the side of his temporary bed and planted them on the floor, Neteyam peeled his eyes away from the walls with a tired sigh. None of this was ideal. 

Of course, Neteyam would much rather be back home, where he was surrounded by his friends and family. He’d prefer it if he could continue to help his grandmother at the nature reserve she owned. Hell, he’d even stop complaining about being cramped into the too-small room that he had shared with Lo’ak. But just like his father always reminded him, he was the older brother. 

He had to put his own wants and needs aside so he could focus on keeping his siblings safe and out of trouble. And while moving states and thousands of miles away from a place he had only just become comfortable with had definitely taken its toll on him, Neteyam couldn’t show it. Not yet.

Forcing himself up and out of whatever desolate slump he had cornered himself into by sitting in an empty room that he already hated, Neteyam decided enough was enough and that he couldn’t continue to waste the day wallowing in his own self-pity.

Instead, he’d do what he did best: he’d look after his siblings.

Leaving his bedroom (if he could even call it that yet) behind, Neteyam descended the staircase leading to the front of the house with feather-light fingertips ghosting across the top of the protective wooden railing. 

Already, Neteyam could hear commotion coming from the living room before he even reached the bottom step. The sound of high-pitched whining and exasperated grumbling bounced off the suitcases and carry-on bags that had immediately been dumped upon arrival, ricocheting until it reached where Neteyam was standing tucked around the corner. 

Bracing himself for whatever scene he was about to find, though Neteyam already had a slight idea of who he’d be met with once he finally plucked up the courage to brave the site, he forced a small, encouraging smile onto his face before moving even an inch. He couldn’t afford to be caught with the same gloomy frown Kiri and Lo’ak had been wearing, after all. 

Not when that meant being pulled aside by his father and receiving a strong-worded talking to, since his younger siblings and mother would pick up on his energy and feed off of it.

Rounding the corner and stepping out from behind the coverage that the staircase’s railing offered him, Neteyam was met with the exact image he thought he’d find himself walking into: Tuk with her arms crossed and a sullen pout tugging at her lips while Jake loomed over her, doing his best to defuse the situation while subsequently making it ten times worse. 

“But that’s not fair, Daddy,” Tuk sniffled, looking two seconds away from stomping her feet and bursting into tears as she stood with her arms bitterly crossed over her chest. “You pinky promised I could go to the beach when we land, but now that we’re here, you’re breaking it. Why?”

“Because, Tuk,” Jake began, face visibly pinched after already going over this with Tuk multiple times. “The movers haven’t got here with our stuff yet.”

Clearly not liking the sound of that answer, Tuk huffed heavily through her nose once. “And?”

“And all of your swimsuits haven’t arrived yet,” Jake sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face, peeved after a long flight, before taking a knee so he was on Tuk’s level. “You remember packing them into those boxes with the rest of your clothes, right? Well, those are still a few hours away from getting here with the rest of our furniture. So, we’ll just have to make do with what we have until it arrives.”

Neteyam could tell Jake was trying to be sweet, his words clipped in a way that made it obvious he was deliberately stringing together sentences with the purpose of not upsetting Tuk further. 

But it wasn’t working. 

Instead, every passing second seemed to spur Tuk’s annoyance on. The blundering of Jake’s mouth opening and closing only adding fuel to the fire, as with each useless sound that didn’t align itself with her wishes fell on unwavering ears. 

“You said we could, though.” The misery in Tuk’s voice shot straight through Neteyam’s heart, reminding him just how weak he was to his siblings' doe eyes. “We never got to go to the beach back home because they all sucked or were too far away. But now that we live somewhere with pretty beaches, you’re still not letting me go. Why did you lie to me?”

“I didn’t mean to, Babygirl,” Jake tried reaching for her, only to have Tuk cruelly pull herself back, making his fingers clasp around nothing but thin air. Balling his hand into a loose fist at the denial, Jake brought it down to his bent knee and smacked it there lightly a few times to try and play off the rejection as he thought of a way to make the situation better. “It’s just–”

“I can take her,” Neteyam blurted before Jake could form a coherent sentence, not even bothering to think through his actions. 

Because really, who was Neteyam to deny Tuk if there was something he could do about her minor grievance?

He was, after all, her big brother. It would practically be a crime if Neteyam just stood around idly while his parents were busy trying to make the best out of an already disastrous situation that nobody wanted to be in. Even more so if it were at the expense of one of his siblings. 

But perhaps Neteyam should’ve thought his choices through a little more carefully, because as soon as he had spoken his offer to life, two sets of eyes snapped towards him, their gazes narrowing as he was thrust under a microscope. From there, every minor detail about him, every twitch, every breath, was inspected with mass scrutiny.

“I mean,” Neteyam choked under the sudden steadfast attention, swallowing thickly to try and clear his pipes. “If you need to stay here, I’m more than happy to go to the beach with Tuk.”

“Really?” Tuk gasped, her eyes lighting up.

“Of course, Tuk Tuk,” Neteyam smiled, trying to hide the sigh of relief that he let out. Walking over to the pair instead of continuing to loiter in the living room's entryway, Neteyam set a playful hand atop his younger sister’s head, ruffling her braids lightly as she let out a squeal of excitement. 

Neteyam, however, hadn’t won just yet. Not when he still needed to win the approval of his father, a feat that wasn’t particularly easy when it was common knowledge among the Sullys how Neteyam fared with water.

Shyly looking over at Jake, Neteyam tried to offer him the most reassuring smile he could muster, unfortunately knowing it probably wouldn’t mean much since the ocean would be involved. Still, he had to try for Tuk. Especially when he had gone out of his way now to give the girl hope. “Is that okay with you, Dad?”

“On any other day, it would be, Neteyam,” Jake dejectedly muttered, looking pained by his own words. With thinned lips tightening his father’s features into a disgruntled frown, Neteyam could make out the exact moment Jake realised there was no salvaging the situation. The man accepting defeat with the assumption that Tuk would give him the silent treatment, as she had done so many times before. “But if you haven’t noticed, we don’t exactly have the right equipment to be committing to a beach trip just yet.”

“I don’t mind buying her a new swimsuit if that’s the only reason,” Neteyam proposed with an easy shrug of his shoulders, not minding having to spend a few extra dollars on his little sister if that would make her happy. “I’m sure they have a few shops near the beaches here for tourists who need to buy last-minute items like that. I’ll even get her a towel and any other things she might need to enjoy herself.”

While Tuk spun around from under Neteyam’s hand, throwing her arms around his stomach so she could pull him into a cherished hug, Neteyam watched as conflict arose on Jake’s face, quietly observing him as he absently returned the gesture and wrapped his own arms around Tuk.

It was obvious that Jake wasn’t completely on board with the idea of Neteyam and Tuk going to the beach on their own. Neteyam didn’t need to be a genius to notice that.

Never having set foot in Hawaii before today, Neteyam didn’t exactly know his way around the area. And while the Maps app on his phone would probably be Neteyam’s best friend for a while, that didn’t exactly instil any of the confidence that Jake needed to let the two of them go. 

That and the fact that the Sullys didn’t really know anyone in Hawaii. Well, unless you counted one of Jake’s old friends from when he first joined the Marines and was visiting Hawaii on a day trip. But if Neteyam remembered correctly, said man was quite an influential political figure here. Unfortunately, he didn’t seem like the type of guy you could just call up and ask to babysit your kids. 

Oh! And the water. Had Neteyam mentioned yet that he wasn’t exactly trusted around water? It wasn’t because of anything he had done, per se. But, more so, what Neteyam hadn’t done.

So, yeah… maybe things weren’t looking to be heading in Neteyam and Tuk’s favour. And maybe, just maybe, he should’ve recruited the help of Kiri and Lo’ak, since, you know, safety in numbers and all that. But Neteyam wasn’t going to go down without a fight. Certainly not when Tuk was positively beaming up at him, as if he himself had hung all the stars in the night sky. 

Prying Tuk away from his stomach so he could instead pick her up and prop her on his hip (even if she was starting to get far too big to continue doing such a thing), Neteyam smushed the side of their faces together as he took a daring step closer to Jake, filling his vision with nothing but the two of them and their pleading eyes.

“Please, Dad?” Neteyam cooed, batting his lashes at Jake as if that would somehow sway the man. “I promise we won’t be gone for long, and that I’ll be watching Tuk the entire time. You can even watch us on that tracking app that Mum made us download if you’d like.”

There was a moment of thick hesitation that hung in the air. A beat of silence that told Neteyam everything he needed to know: Jake was having a hard time finding a reason to say no. 

Latching onto that fact, Neteyam gave Tuk’s hip a light squeeze, silently telling her that if there was a moment to get in on the action, that now was the perfect time to strike. And strike she did. “And I promise to help unpack all the boxes when they arrive,” Tuk added, almost shattering what was left of their father’s already crumbling resolve. 

And then, just for good measure, since Neteyam had come too far now, he and Tuk both begged with syrupy churrs at the same time, “Please?”

Jake let out a defeated sigh, his shoulders dropping with what could only be described as relief as he gave in.

And just like that, Neteyam knew they had won.  

“Alright, alright, you can go,” Jake exclaimed with an almost teasing smile, throwing his hands up in surrender, all the while Tuk let out a delighted squeal. Neteyam couldn’t help but share the sentiment, practically glowing as he took in his sister's excitement. “But I want you home no later than five, and your location stays on the entire time. You hear me?”

“Yes, Sir,” Neteyam mused, straightening his spine and saluting to the best of his ability when he still had an armful of Tuk. “Loud and clear.”

An ugly snort quickly pulled itself from Jake at the act, his head shaking as he tried, and failed, to contain his amusement. With a light swipe of his hand, knuckles brushing against some of Neteyam’s braids, he huffed, “Hey, knock it off.”

With a playful roll of his eyes, Neteyam dropped his hand, using it to better hold onto his sister.

“Hey, Tuk?” Neteyam drawled, turning his attention to the woman of the hour. With a curious tilt of her head, Tuk’s wide chestnut eyes boring into his skull, she less-than-patiently hummed for Neteyam to continue, already geared up to make a break from the boorish house they had been kept locked up in. “Why don’t you go and see if you packed any shorts in yours and Mama’s suitcase? I don’t think jeans are a very good fit for the beach.”

“Okay,” she cheerily agreed, motioning for Neteyam to plop her down. Doing so without complaint, Neteyam set Tuk’s energetic feet back on the ground, the girl bouncing on the tip of her toes as she held herself back from running off. Before she made a dash for her suitcase, though, she made sure to check with Neteyam: “But can we go after that?”

“Of course,” Neteyam confirmed, not even daring to think of keeping Tuk contained a second longer than she had to be. “And hey, while you do that, how about I check if Kiri or Lo’ak want to come with us? Maybe we’ll all be able to go.”

Tuk’s eyes narrowed for half a second, inspecting Neteyam and his intentions for a few moments before reluctantly agreeing, “Mhh, fine. But don’t take too long.”

“I won’t,” Neteyam smiled sweetly, ruffling Tuk’s braids one last time. “Promise.”

With a light giggle, Tuk slapped Neteyam’s hands away, trying to evade his brotherly love. Spinning on her heel, Tuk dashed over to the pile of suitcases and bags with no strategy in mind as she began to sift through them, opening and closing every piece of luggage without a care for who it belonged to. It was only when she’d see nothing of her own inside that Tuk would messily stuff everything inside before moving on to the next suitcase. 

After watching her for a few seconds, Neteyam was about to turn on his own heel and head upstairs, making the rounds to Kiri and Lo’ak’s room to ask if they were interested in a trip to the beach, when Jake hurriedly called out to him, “Hey, Son, wait up.”

“Yeah?” Neteyam questioned, stopping abruptly as he looked back over his shoulder at his father. 

“I just wanted to say thank you for doing this,” he murmured, already seeming to be physically ten times lighter than the man Neteyam had walked in on not even five minutes ago. Reaching a hand out and placing it heavily on Neteyam’s shoulder, Jake gave the boy a light squeeze, making sure to fill the action with the magnitude of appreciation that he was feeling. “You’re a great older brother, you know that?”

At the praise, Neteyam felt his heart sing. If he hadn’t been so consumed with the way he felt his entire body warmed at the recognition, Neteyam would’ve gone so far as to say the muscle skipped a beat entirely with how much pride was swelling inside of him.

Oh, what Neteyam would give to hear his father say those words to him every day. To remind him that it wasn’t all for nothing, and that he was doing a good job. But despite that feeling, Neteyam couldn’t help but deflect. Waving his hands around as if to ward off the compliment from ever reaching him, Neteyam muttered, “Oh, no, it was nothing, Dad.”

Because it was nothing. And Neteyam didn’t deserve to be praised for something as effortless as taking his sister down to the beach when he would’ve gladly done so on any normal day. Besides, the simple act wouldn’t cost Neteyam anything (other than a few extra dollars), so it wasn’t something exactly worth celebrating. 

“I’m sure Kiri and Lo’ak would’ve done the same for her,” he said, trying to play it off with a casual shrug of his shoulders.

“As much as I love your siblings, Neteyam, I really do,” Jake grimaced, his eyes darting over to where Tuk was still hunting for a pair of shorts she could change into and then the staircase that led up to everyone’s bedrooms. “We both know they wouldn’t have done that for her.”

Neteyam wanted to argue at that. To say something and stick up for his siblings. Because, yeah, maybe they wouldn’t have volunteered to take Tuk to the beach as he had, but Neteyam was sure they would’ve found another way to make it up to her.

But Neteyam didn’t.

He bit his tongue, swallowed whatever empty rebuttal had surfaced in his throat, and allowed Jake to continue uninterrupted by him, because that’s what good sons did. 

“But hey, that’s enough of that,” Jake said, flapping his hand through the air once to shoo the innocent jabs at his children away. Pulling out his wallet next, Jake quickly began shuffling through it, looking for a bill that he could give to Neteyam. “Enjoy yourself with Tuk, make sure she doesn’t go too deep into the water, and here. Fifty dollars should be enough to cover whatever you need and get a little snack while you’re out, right? If not, just text me, and I’ll transfer you some more.”

“Oh, Dad,” Neteyam paled, guilt washing over and slamming into him like a tsunami at the sight of the note in Jake’s hands. He couldn’t take that. Not when he had already promised to look after Tuk and whatever expenses this little outing cost them. It was meant to be his treat to Tuk, not Jake’s treat for both of them. Refusing to take the note, Neteyam said, “You don’t have to.”

“No, it’s fine,” Jake, however, insisted, not giving up until Neteyam was forced to take the money lest he wanted to see the note drop to the floor, something the boy would never allow to happen since he personally saw it as a sign of disrespect. “It’s the least I can do for you helping me out.”

“...Okay,” Neteyam was forced to accept with a sigh, though he made sure to make a show of just how reluctant he was to do so.

“Good,” Jake hummed, smiling despite the played-up annoyance from his son and the mess his daughter was making behind him, something he’d surely have to sort through before his wife got home and saw it.  “Now, make sure you have fun out there.”

“We will,” Neteyam declared, knowing he wouldn’t let Tuk leave the beach until they had. 

And, with that conversation in mind, that was exactly how Neteyam found himself walking along one of the nearby beachfronts with Tuk’s hand firmly clasped in his, the Maps app open on his phone as they searched for one of the recommended stores on it, and an empty tote bag slung over his shoulder, waiting to be filled with whatever purchases were made today. 

Just like Neteyam had said he would, he quickly found Kiri and Lo’ak and asked if either of them wanted to come while Tuk got changed, only to be promptly shut down by the both of them. 

While Kiri had been much nicer out of the two, politely declining because she wanted to spend the first few days getting situated in what would be their new home, Neteyam couldn’t really blame either of them for it. Even if he had been met by Lo’ak throwing one of his discarded Jordans at his head. 

But honestly, at this point, Neteyam wouldn’t have expected anything less from his younger brother. Especially when he seemed to be the most beaten up about the move. Well, apart from their mother. 

She had by far taken it the worst. Already, she had been opposed to the initial move that landed their family in New York City, claiming that disconnecting the children from their motherland so early in life would only make them grow to not properly appreciate their culture. But, just as Neteyam did for his siblings, Neytiri sucked it up for her family’s sake. 

…And then Jake had to go and get assigned a brand new PCS. 

Neteyam could still remember the night Jake had broken the news to Neytiri, their hushed shouts leaking out from under their bedroom door while he and his siblings pressed close, trying to pick up every word of it. 

It had been a tense couple of days around their home following that. Neytiri refused to acknowledge that they’d have to leave everything behind again. Kiri grew anxious about having to start her life all over again. Lo’ak got pissed that he’d have to leave the friends he worked so hard to make behind. Tuk didn’t really know what was going on, but because of everyone else in the house, she grew quieter. And Neteyam… Well, Neteyam just went numb. 

But that was done, and in the past, and Neteyam shouldn’t be thinking about it anymore. Even if he wanted to. What he should be thinking about is which one of the cutely decorated shops along the beachfront (that were so clearly designed to lure tourists in) he would take Tuk into so she could pick out a swimsuit to wear. 

For the most part, the small stores all looked relatively similar. They all had little displays set up out the front of their buildings to show off some of the items on sale, big windows that allowed you to peer inside and take in the vibrant colours that filled them, and friendly faces manning the checkout point. From where Neteyam and Tuk walked along the sidewalk, he could also see that almost every store offered some sort of swimsuit for purchase. So it wasn’t necessarily about finding a place that sold swimwear, but one that would have cute enough designs that Tuk would be happy wearing it.

And while Neteyam loved his youngest sister, she was quite picky when it came to the things she liked. The girl had thrown more tantrums than Neteyam could count at being made to wear something she didn’t think was stylish, making it everyone’s problem until she was satisfied with what was put before her. 

So, as the Sullys and, more importantly in this situation, Neteyam had come to learn, finding something Tuk liked was no easy feat.

But before Neteyam could accept defeat and allow the girl to have free rein, running into whatever stores she pleased until she found something, Neteyam spotted it. 

Metkayina’s Paradise.

Sitting on the corner of the street, there wasn’t anything special about the store. Not from the white and teal paintwork that coated its walls, or the sand castle buckets propped up on a table near the front of the store, or the mannequin dressed in a flowy sundress in the window. But it was cute. And often, if the outside was cute, the inside would be too. 

“Do you want to have a look inside this place, Tuk?” Neteyam called out, stopping their mindless strolling so he could point out the little store that had caught his attention. “It seems like they’d have everything you’d need for a fun trip to the beach.”

“Hmmm,” Tuk hummed, her eyes narrowing as she turned to inspect the store. 

With a belated breath, Neteyam paused. He stood there with his teeth self-consciously biting at his bottom lip, waiting to hear the girl's verdict.

He could see the gears whirling in her head. The cogs shifting against one another as she meticulously scanned her gaze over the store. From the way Neteyam could see Tuk subconsciously leaning towards the building, her interest piqued, he knew he had made a good choice. And that was only confirmed when the girl cheerily said, “Okay!”

With a tug of her hand, Tuk began leading the way over, dragging Neteyam in with her as she stepped over the threshold and into the selected store. 

Trying to be a good customer, Neteyam instinctively turned towards the checkout desk, fully intent on sending whoever was working behind it a small smile and a greeting. It was the right thing to do, after all. He was coming into their place of business and requesting their services. The least Neteyam could do was be friendly about it all. Only, there was no one there. 

Spluttering at the empty desk, Neteyam worried for a moment that out of all the stores he could’ve possibly picked, he would’ve just had to pick the one where the employees had decided to go on break and forgot to write a note or close up shop while they were away. Knowing his luck, the store probably wasn’t even open to begin with, and he just decided to break into some random unsuspecting small business. 

But then Neteyam turned his head and caught sight of a small family of three looking at the bodyboards near the back of the store, completely obliterating that thought from his mind with a sigh of relief. 

Feeling another tug at his hand, Neteyam turns his attention back to Tuk, who was pointedly looking at a wall with different swimsets on display. Most of the children's designs had floral patterns plastered across them, a few sitting as outliers with animal designs, brand logos, or just purely being one colour. 

“Which one do you think I should get, Teyam?” Tuk asked, staring at the different options as if this one choice would determine her fate for the rest of the time they stayed in Hawaii. Which, for a dramatic seven-year-old like Tuk, it just might. 

“Well, which one’s your favourite?” Neteyam simply asked, hoping that would narrow down the selection that he had to choose from.

“These two,” Tuk pointed, singling out two one-piece swimmers that were hanging next to each other on the wall. The first one was navy with lighter stripes of blue curving around it, almost making it out to be a tiger's print if the colouring hadn’t been wrong. The second, however, just had different species of fish drawn on it. “But I can’t decide which one I like more.”

“Hmm,” Neteyam hummed, tapping a finger against his chin a few times to mimic being deep in thought as he inspected both designs. The action got a small laugh out of Tuk, bringing a satisfied smile to Neteyam’s face while her giggles bounced through the store. “I think you should pick the blue one.”

“Really?” she asked, sceptically picking up the swimsuit that Neteyam had chosen out. Checking it over in her hands, Tuk stared at it for a few seconds, deep in thought as she tried to decide if she should agree with Neteyam or just completely ignore anything he had to say when it came to fashion. “Or are you just saying that ‘cause it’s your favourite colour?”

“What? No,” Neteyam spluttered, his eyes widening as he shot Tuk a betrayed look. She fixed him with a raised brow, though. Not accepting any sort of shenanigans from Neteyam this time around as she waited for an answer. “Okay, fine, maybe. But I also just like the design better than the fish one. You wouldn’t want a seagull to fly overhead and pluck you out of the water because it thought you were one of the fish, would you?”

“Don’t be silly, Teyam. The seagulls wouldn’t do that,” Tuk scoffed, shaking her head as if she had heard the most ridiculous thing. Still, she made no effort to reach for the second swimsuit, her eyes lingering on its design as doubt began to seep into her mind. Turning back to Neteyam quickly, she meekly asked, “Would they?”

“I think they would. You know, I heard the seagulls here in Hawaii are different from the ones back home,” Neteyam couldn’t help but say, doing his best to hide the smile that was threatening to creep its way onto his face. “But if you don’t believe me, you can get the one with the fish on it, and we can test it out–”

“No!” Tuk screeched before Neteyam could get the rest of his sentence out, her hands clutching the navy swimsuit to her chest with widened eyes. 

It seems like Tuk has made her choice, then. 

“If you say so,” Neteyam shrugged, ready to get them out of that store and on the beach as Tuk had originally wanted. “But why don’t you try it on first before we buy it? We don’t want to buy it and walk all the way down to the beach only for it not to fit.”

“That’s so smart, Teyam,” Tuk mused, having a quick look at the size that was attached to the swimsuit she had picked up. 

“Thanks, Tuk,” Neteyam absently murmured in response, craning his neck so he could have a proper look around the store in hopes of finding some changerooms or a bathroom that they could potentially use. 

Before Neteyam could take a proper look around though, a deep, husky voice sounded out from behind him, startling Neteyam and making him jump slightly as his and Tuk’s attention was quickly grabbed. “If you’re looking for the changerooms, they’re around the corner and near the back of the store.”

“Thank you, Mr Worker,” Tuk politely beamed at the man behind Neteyam before spinning on her heel and taking off. Weaving her way through different display stands and racks of beach clothes, it wasn’t long before Tuk disappeared behind one of the store's walls. 

The guy snorted in amusement to himself, paying no mind to the slamming of a changeroom door as he muttered to no one in particular, “No problem, kid.”

“Hey, Tuk, don’t run in the… store,” Neteyam tried to call out at the same time, his words futile as Tuk was long gone before he could even get the first syllable out. With a huff, Neteyam fought off the urge to drop his head into his hands. 

Of course, Tuk just had to throw all sensible ways of thinking to the wind whenever she got excited. 

“I’m so sorry about her,” Neteyam started, trying to take a calming breath instead of burying his head into his hands out of embarrassment. 

Tuk was a force. One who often reflected poorly on others when her behaviour wasn’t managed properly. Neteyam would argue that she somehow picked up the habit from Lo’ak with all the shenanigans that he pulled, but Neytiri liked to argue that it was, in fact, Jake she was taking after. Something about his younger side coming through. It didn’t matter. Not when, currently, Neteyam was silently praying that he hadn’t already made a bad impression on the first person he had spoken to since leaving the airport. 

In a hurried ramble, that was really just a lousy attempt to redeem himself, Neteyam said, “She doesn’t normally act like that, but I guess she’s just really looking forward to going to the beach. Thank you, by the way. For telling us where to go.”

Turning fully to face the man in question, Neteyam allowed himself half a second to take in his appearance.

With smooth golden-brown skin and thick, dark curls that had been pulled back into a small bun on the man's head, Neteyam found himself tilting his chin up to get a proper look at the other man. From there, two baby blue irises were peering down at him, mirth flickering in them as their owner unbashfully stared at Neteyam with a smug smirk on his lips. 

For a moment–for just a moment–Neteyam's brain supplied the word attractive before he could stop it. Objectively so. But then the reasonable side of his brain decided to start functioning again, and he shut those thoughts down immediately. 

He was, after all, here to buy a swimsuit for Tuk. Not to waste what little free time he had appreciating other people’s appearances. Neteyam no longer had the desire or right to do that. Especially when his father would quietly frown and push Neteyam’s attention to something more demanding. 

So, he did what he did best when it came to personal issues. He ignored it. 

Offering the guy a polite smile, one that Neteyam had spent many hours in the mirror perfecting until it was a seamless mixture of friendly and inviting, he hoped that any chances of salvaging this exchange weren’t lost. Especially when the boy looked to be around his age, and it wouldn’t hurt to make a friend or two.

“Hm,” the guy hummed, something brewing behind his eyes. Neteyam couldn’t quite tell if it was interest or ire, but whatever it was, it made the guy look as if he wanted to eat Neteyam alive. Okay, so, maybe becoming friends wasn’t completely in the picture, but no one could fault Neteyam for trying. “Don’t worry about it, man.”

Thinning his lips together carefully, Neteyam gave a courteous nod of his head, acknowledging what the man had said, before a steady silence began to fill the air, enveloping the two of them as they stood side-by-side in the now-empty store. 

It seems, Neteyam thought, that their conversion had run its natural course. With nothing else to add coming to Neteyam’s mind, and the boy still staring him down as if he were something to be studied, Neteyam was ready to let his first attempt (if it could even be called that) at friendship in Hawaii be labelled as a failure.

But, it seemed, as the boy tentatively coughed to try and clear his throat, the noise doing more harm than good, that he wasn’t exactly ready to do the same.

“So,” he began with a drawl, making Neteyam’s head snap towards him with a curious furrow of his brows, not anticipating to hear anything out of the boy until they eventually navigated over to the register. “You here on holiday or something?”

“Oh, uh, no,” Neteyam stuttered out once he had blinked a few times hurriedly, checking to see if he had misheard the man. But when his eyes remained boring into Neteyam’s, unyielding as he waited for a more in-depth answer, he quickly realised this could be a good chance to secure a connection for the time he spent in Hawaii. Because of that, Neteyam answered graciously, “My family just moved here, actually.”

“Oh, shit. No way,” the worker mused with a growing smile tugging at his lips. If anything, he looked almost pleased with that answer. “Where from?”

“New York,” Neteyam found himself scratching the back of his neck, offering a small shrug.

“New York?” he repeated, like he was turning the information over. Flicking his eyes over Neteyam, an appraising smile filtered its way onto his lips. Once again, the thought of being eaten alive returned to the forefront of Neteyam’s mind, something predatory settling over the boy’s features. “Yeah, I can see that.” 

“Is that a good thing?” Neteyam couldn’t help but ask, one of his brows creeping up into a perfect arch, with an innocent smile and inquisitive tilt of his head as he regarded the other man. 

“Definitely,” he murmured, slow, and with an easy-going smile that threatened to creep into something more deliberate. He took one unhurried step closer, like he had all the time in the world. “Though I gotta say, New York's loss is very much my gain right now.”

Squinting his eyes, Neteyam hummed at that, slow and unconvinced. He wasn’t entirely sure what the man was getting at, but by the sideways glance he cut the worker with, Neteyam made sure to let him know that he was onto him. And the guy, for his part, just grinned back at him. An unhurried and unbothered thing that quickly dissolved into the guy shaking his head slightly in amusement. 

“Actually–” the guy started, something catching in his expression like he'd only just remembered himself, “–where are my manners?” Shaking his shoulders out and puffing out his chest, he confidently extended a hand out to Neteyam, his eyes fixating on Neteyam’s own for a second before saying, “I’m Ao’nung.”

Feeling his face light up at the introduction, Neteyam hastily reached forward to take Ao’nung’s hand in his own, a teasing lit overtaking his words as he said, “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Ao’nung.” He never got quite as far as shaking it though, since as soon as their hands connected, Ao'nung's grip shifted, his fingers readjusting around Neteyam's own as he began to pull the limb towards his face, as if there was something deliberate he wanted to do. Neteyam barely had time to register the change, though, before he was opening his mouth to return the gesture, “I’m–”

“–Teyam!” Tuk cut in, her screech slicing through the store and, subsequently, the hushed conversation Neteyam had been having with Ao’nung as she demanded all attention be turned to her.

Waddling out of the changing room with the navy swimsuit that Neteyam had picked out for her on, Tuk situated herself in front of Neteyam, not even sparing Ao’nung a second glance. She looked very pleased with herself. As if she already found the one. 

Still, Tuk demanded an answer out of Neteyam. Throwing her arms wide into an obscure pose so Neteyam could see the full picture, she asked, “What do you think?”

“I think you look great in it,” Neteyam mused, his eyes lighting up as he took in Tuk’s pleased grin. This is exactly what he wanted. To get Tuk out of the house so she could enjoy herself and get away from the doom and gloom that surrounded their family as they attempted to keep their lives from falling apart. And by the looks of it, Neteyam was succeeding. “So, is this the one you want to get?”

“Yep,” she confirmed, popping the ‘p.’

“Perfect,” he said, already reaching a hand out to ruffle her braids up. “Why don’t you get changed back into your clothes then so we can buy it? Then we can finally go to the beach.”

“Actually, she can keep it on if she wants,” Ao’nung chipped in before Tuk could respond, reminding the both of them of his presence. With a casual shrug of his shoulders, Ao’nung explained, “I can just put the item code in and ring it up like that. That’ll save her the trouble of putting it back on later.”

“Are you sure?” Neteyam hesitantly asked, his teeth nervously biting into his bottom lip as he turned over the offer in his head. Despite it being Ao’nung’s idea, Neteyam couldn’t help but feel bad. Already, Tuk had caused a small disturbance in the store. Neteyam didn’t want to further disrupt Ao’nung’s day by making him go the extra mile to accommodate them over something so minuscule. It’s why he muttered, “I don’t want to be a hassle.”

“Nah, you’re fine,” Ao’nung said, tracking the curve of Neteyam’s lips for a second before flicking his eyes back up. “It’ll only take me a second anyway.”

“Only if you’re sure,” Neteyam reluctantly agreed, not missing the way Ao’nung sent him a reassuring smile before making his way over to the checkout counter so he could get to work on that. “Okay, Tuk, you heard the man. Put your clothes back on top so we can finally go to the beach. And hey, if you want, you can pick out a new towel on your way back so you have something to dry yourself off with after.”

“Sure thing, Teyam,” Tuk exclaimed, barely sparing Neteyam a second glance as she headed straight over to the table that was proudly showing off a wide selection of beach towels. Allowing her eyes to skim over all of them, it didn’t take Tuk long to pick out one she liked, the fabric easily being slung over her shoulder before she was making her way back over to the changing room she had been occupying. As she went, Tuk weakly promised over her shoulder, “I’ll make sure to be quick.”

Neteyam let out a quiet huff of amusement at that, because Tuk's version of quick and everyone else's were two very different things, and they both knew it. Still, he let her go without saying as much, watching her scurry off before turning and making his way over to the counter where Ao'nung was already getting set up.

When he got there, Ao’nung was already leaning against the counter with a lazy grin, glancing up at Neteyam through his lashes as he quietly observed the interaction. “So, I guess this is the end of your little shopping trip?” he mused. 

“Yeah,” Neteyam said, glancing around the store briefly, “I guess so.”

“Shame. I felt like I was only just getting to know you,” he said, his eyes not quite leaving Neteyam's as he leaned in further over the counter. “Well, if you ever need a tour guide to show you around, then you know where to find me. And if I’m not here, just tell whoever's working to call for me. I promise I’ll drop everything and make it an experience like no other.”

Neteyam couldn’t help but laugh at that, the sound coming out of him easily as his attention snapped back to Ao’nung at the abrupt offer. If he thought Ao’nung were being serious, perhaps he would’ve taken him up on it.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Neteyam noncommittally mused as he fished the fifty-dollar note Jake had given him earlier that day out from his back pocket. 

Sliding the bill across the counter, Neteyam turned his attention to Tuk as she came bounding over, a light pink towel clutched loosely in her hands. Taking the fabric from her, Neteyam folded it neatly, slipping it into the tote bag he had slung over his shoulder. A few seconds later, he was also sliding the change Ao’nung was handing him into it, paying no mind to the way Ao’nung’s fingers seemed to linger over his. 

“I guess I’ll see you around,” Neteyam shyly smiled at Ao’nung, before he was taking Tuk’s hand into his once more, their knuckles intertwinning as the little girl confidently began marching her way to the store’s exit. With amusement flashing across his face, Neteyam obediently followed after his sister, but not before throwing a quick glance over his shoulder and waving softly, “Bye Ao’nung.”

“Yeah, I’ll see you later,” his response was quick, brushing against Neteyam’s skin as if it were a promise. And because of that, Neteyam couldn’t help but roll his eyes, even if a small smile had already begun to form on his face. 

Leaning forward until his elbows sat on the countertop, Ao’nung watched after Neteyam (and Tuk) as they left, his eyes trailing after them without any real intention of stopping. He couldn't pull them away, and truthfully, he didn't particularly want to either. 

Not when there was something about the boy that made it feel less like staring and more like the most natural thing in the world.

Before the pair could get too far, though, Ao’nung called as a fleeting farewell, “Bye, Teyam.”

Neteyam didn’t dignify Ao’nung with a response, though he was pretty sure the boy could tell Neteyam was smiling from the way he playfully shook his head to himself. For a second, Neteyam thought about scolding the boy for using that name, reserving it solely for his siblings, but before Neteyam could even make up his mind on what to do, Tuk yanked at his hand, her impatience growing.

“Come on, Teyam,” she grumbled under her breath as the ground beneath their feet turned from concrete to sand. Walking Neteyam across the beach until she could visibly see the dampened sand from where the waves had been crashing into it, Tuk began to get rid of her clothes, proudly showing off her new swimsuit. “I want to finally get in the water.”

“Okay, okay,” Neteyam softly laughed at the little girl’s eagerness, not doing anything to stop Tuk as he took out the towel she had picked and laid it out across the sand. Bundling her clothes up, Neteyam slid them away into his bag, plopping it down next to him when he was done. “But remember to not go in too deep and to stay where I can see you.”

There was a moment where, as Neteyam spoke, he felt a flicker of doubt curl in his stomach. 

His instructions had more or less fallen on deaf ears as Tuk took off towards the water as soon as she got the go-ahead from Neteyam, her little feet kicking up sand as she broke away from him. But it would be alright. Tuk would be fine… he hoped.

Jake had practically drilled into Tuk’s mind the rules when it came to water safety and Neteyam being on watch, after all. He wouldn’t be surprised if the girl could somehow recite them from memory, given how many times they’d been preached to her. Still, that didn’t stop Neteyam from thinking this outing had been a mistake as he watched Tuk disappear into the waves.

“I know,” she had attempted to screech over her shoulder as soon as the first wave slammed into her, throwing Neteyam a large grin before water came spraying up all around her, leaving Tuk to happily occupy herself with the ocean.

With every wave that came crashing into Tuk, with every second her head stayed under the water as she went looking for shells, and with every instant that she took a small tumble from a too-violent slam of water, Neteyam could do nothing but watch Tuk anxiously. 

Occasionally, his eyes would flicker over to the lifeguards' tower, where he could see whoever was on duty lazily surveying the ocean. It was safe to say that they didn’t instil too much confidence in Neteyam.

But over time, much to Neteyam’s relief, he eventually found himself relaxing.

Tuk hadn’t been swept away, or come running over to him while crying, or been plucked out of the water and taken away by seagulls yet. Instead, she was peacefully jumping into different waves, her laughter being carried across the sand and over to Neteyam as she was positively delighted at being smacked around.

So, Neteyam’s anxiety turned into contentment, and then it turned into amusement as he happily sat there watching over his sister, basking in the joy that was thrumming off of Tuk’s skin. But, funnily enough, that wasn’t the only thing Neteyam was willing to let settle. 

Feeling an unweavering pull that demanded his attention, Neteyam’s head slowly turned until he was looking over his shoulder and at where Metkayina’s Paradise sat on the beachfront. Despite not knowing why he had the instinctual urge to look at the small store, Neteyam didn’t look away, even when he couldn’t make out the worker who would be peacefully sitting outside.

Playing the unusual interaction he had with Ao’nung over in his head, Neteyam couldn’t stop the smile on his face from growing. 

Though he was sure it had all just been for fun, a distraction to pass the time until his shift ended, Neteyam found himself not minding Ao’nung’s playful antics, even if he couldn’t wrap his head around a few of them. He had been nice, though. And Neteyam guesses that was all that mattered. So much so that it was almost a shame Neteyam probably wouldn’t see him again. 

All in all, Neteyam was more than happy to call today a successful one. 

He had effectively put his own distaste for moving states behind him, had lightened his father’s load by taking an upset child off of his hands, had taken Tuk out to the beach like she had been begging to, and even met a new, friendly face. 

There probably wasn’t much more that could make it go any smoother. 

Feeling a soft buzz from his back pocket, the noise cutting Neteyam out of his thoughts and bringing his attention back to the water in front of him, where Tuk was still playing, Neteyam fished his phone out from his pants, expecting to see a notification from his father asking how things were going. 

Turning the brightness up of his screen so he could properly read whatever had been sent his way though, Neteyam, however, felt his heart completely stop altogether in his chest. 

Because that wasn’t a message from Jake. 

In fact, it wasn’t a message from anyone in his family, making his smile completely fall off his face as he read the name. 

Tarsem.

Author's Note: Soooo that's chapter one done 🥹 Thank you to everyone who stuck around to read the entirety of it 💋 I know sometimes modern AUs like this one are overdone and/or repetitive, but I promise it'll be worth the (slightly) uneventful first chapter since things pick up pretty quickly 🫣 I'd love to know all your thoughts on this first chapter since it's still something new and fresh 🫶 any comments would be greatly appreciated and a great motivator to get the second chapter out soon 💖 (which shouldn't be too long of a wait 🤞)

Oh, also, if you haven't already seen it in the tags, I mentioned how this fic might be slow to update. I don't mean that in the sense that it'll take weeks to get a new chapter, but that it probably will be quite infrequent because I'm in the middle of planning a new fic (some of you might've already heard of it since I can't shut up about my Recom AU), and once I finish the chapter outline I do plan on going head first into writing it. Unfortunately, that does mean updating this fic might slow down at times, but I do hope to try and get a chapter out almost every week 💕

The wound on her back, while having healed a remarkable amount, was still a degree of great concern for Neteyam. So for his girl to have performed the flight from Awa’atlu to High Camp twice now, the two trips only spanning a few days apart, Neteyam couldn’t be more grateful. 

Allowing his forehead to rest lightly on Telisi’s snout for a few seconds, the Ikran begrudedly ignoring every other Na’vi in the vicinity to focus on Neteyam, he cherished the quiet moment he was able to steal before stepping forward into the uncertainty that awaited him. With a teasing smile, Neteyam mused, “Remember, Telisi, the Metkayina are our friends, not food. If you keep snapping at them, you’ll have to be bound to the forest forever.”

At the muted chirp that Telisi let out, Neteyam didn’t think she minded the sound of that. Which, Neteyam couldn’t really blame her for that. She was made for the mountains, after all. Though, just like he had, Neteyam was sure Telisi would one day come to appreciate the beaches if she spent a little bit more time on them.

“Yeah,” Neteyam huffed in response, not being able to hide the smile on his face as he slowly pulled his head away from Telisi’s. Behind him, Neteyam could clearly make out the sound of his family dismounting their own Ikran, their movements much more fluid as they integrated back into the Metkayina without strife. Their seamless actions reminded Neteyam of what he had to do. Reminded him why he was in Awa’atlu. “We’ll continue this chat later. I’ve got some things I need to take care of first.”

Ignoring the offended squawk that Telisi let out in response, Neteyam carefully dropped the Ikran’s head from his hold, his hands coming to rest limply at his sides as he turned away from her. Taking hesitant steps forward, Neteyam quickly drank Awa’atlu in, most of it looking almost identical to the last time he saw it, with the addition of a few newly finished marui’s to replace those that had been destroyed in the war. 

The physicality of Awa’atlu wasn’t the only thing that remained the same in Neteyam’s memories, though. There were also the Na’vi who inhabited it, who hadn’t strayed too much from Neteyam’s recollection. 

With a wall of teal surrounding them, the Metkayina flooded the beach like curious Zukzuk (Otterfin), each one of them trying to get a glimpse of the Sullys as they returned. Some of the smaller children, friends of Tuk’s, were attempting to shove their way out of their parents’ grips, hoping to run forward and greet the forest Na’vi after failing to do so when they had first arrived on Awa’atlu’s sandy shores.

Neteyam could remember that day clearly, as if it were yesterday. 

There had been a twist of discomfort in his stomach after spending many hours flying with no break in sight and no destination in mind. His heart had been beating rapidly within his chest as he saw the Olo’eyktan and Tsahìk appear from the parting crowd, making it known that their presence hadn’t been received well. But, most importantly, there had been a brave, stoic expression slapped on his features so he could remain strong for his siblings, unaffected by the scrutiny they faced. 

Now, Neteyam had no need to wear such a look. Not anymore, as his family was welcomed home with open arms and grins larger than life.

From his vantage point still by the Ikran, Neteyam could see Tonowari and Ronal once again making their way towards the centre of the gathering, the onlooking reef Na’vi parting for them like the sea, as they made their way over to Jake and Neytiri. 

Tonowari was the first to reach Neteyam’s parents, his hand proudly coming out to meet Jake’s in a tight clasp, the two greeting each other as if they were old friends. Which, by this point, they were, even if they had known each other for no more than a year. Neteyam guessed that seeking uturu, fighting the Sky People, and losing a son (and son-in-law) to the Mangkwan did that to people. 

After releasing Jake’s hand, Neytiri was quick to formally greet the Olo’eyktan, her posture proper despite having gotten to know the man by now. It seemed some habits died hard, though.

It didn’t take Ronal long to arrive at the scene after that, her head dipping down in a respectful nod as she approached the Sullys’. Jake and Neytiri quickly responded in kind after that, Neytiri even going as far as to offer the woman a small gratified smile as Tsahìk came to stand by her side.

Neteyam could see the four of them begin to talk, low murmurs being passed between them in an effort to keep any prying ears out of their conversation. It seemed to work as well, since Neteyam couldn’t make out a single word being passed between them, not even when he squinted his eyes at their lips and tried to read the sentences that were falling.

He would just have to assume it was pleasantries being passed among them, even if Neteyam knew the bond that had been harbouring there went much deeper than that now. 

It didn’t seem like his parents were the only ones having a warm, heartfelt reunion either, because from the corner of his eye, Neteyam could see his siblings breaking away from the open space created for them.

Lo’ak was the first to go, immediately slipping away at the sight of a short, curly-haired Metkayina girl. Growing a lopsided smile as Tsireya met him halfway, their hands quietly linked together, Lo’ak’s cheeks dusting a faint purple and– Oh, Neteyam definitely was going to bring this up later. After everything Lo’ak had put him through regarding his feelings, it was about time Neteyam had some solid proof to hold against the other boy.

But until then, Neteyam would allow the two of them to have their moment. He wouldn’t be like Lo’ak, who’d jump at the opportunity to yell across the beach at him. Instead, he’d put his attention on his other siblings and find out how they were using this time as he made his way over at a painstakingly slow pace. 

Tuk, unsurprisingly, had already found herself at Popiti’s side, the young Metkayina girl wrapping her up in a tight hug as she squealed about having her friend back.

Them, there was Kiri and Spider, who, like most times, were glued at the hip. Only, Rotxo was with them now, the taller boy greeting them with a kind smile and eyes that kept on flickering over to Kiri. 

The three of them weren’t too far from Neteyam, allowing him to listen in on their conversation, or even join in if he was really inclined to, but there was something stopping Neteyam from doing that. Or, better yet, someone who was keeping Neteyam from joining in on the small gathering. 

It hadn’t gone unnoticed by the Omatikayan boy that a certain Olo’eyktan-in-training was missing from the reunion, his curly hair, broad shoulders, and woven toa guard failing to make an appearance just yet. Neteyam couldn’t understand why Ao’nung was missing, but as he finally reached the centre of the cleared-out space, no longer being able to hide from the onslaught of curious onlookers, Neteyam could definitely feel his absence. 

Allowing his gaze to ripple through the crowd, Neteyam searched for Ao’nung, hoping that he had just accidentally overlooked the boy amidst the excitement of being back in Awa’atlu and the slight jolt of nerves that were coursing through his veins. But as Neteyam’s fourth sweep of the beach came to a close, he realised that maybe Ao’nung wasn’t there at all. 

Perhaps he had been too far from the beach to hear the conch horn when it had first been blown. There had been times when Neteyam himself had been swept away from the village, both literally and metaphorically, missing the alarms or ceremonial calls that were raised. Or, maybe, Ao’nung was out hunting, helping the villagers bring in some fresh catches for dinner that night. Or– or, there was a chance that he was patrolling Awa’atlu’s borders and wasn’t permitted to come back to the village until someone arrived to take his shift. 

Yeah… there were loads of reasons as to why Ao’nung couldn’t be at the beach to greet Neteyam, none of which should be taken to heart or dampen Neteyam’s mood, since the boy had every right to have a life outside of Neteyam and not revolve around his every waking decision and action…

Neteyam should probably do something. He should stop standing in the middle of the beach alone and looking as if he were lost. Even if he wanted to hold out for a few more seconds, he should go thank Tonowari and Ronal for being so understanding, or break up Lo’ak and Tsireya’s peaceful moment, or go and greet Rotxo. 

With slightly slumped shoulders, Neteyam began to turn, allowing his feet to carry him away while his brain momentarily switched off, protecting him from whatever dejection he could feel, when he caught something in the corner of his eye. 

Immediately stopping, his tail giving a small, experimental flicker behind him, Neteyam’s gaze locked itself on a particular part of the crowd where he had noticed some familiar movement. With narrowed eyes, Neteyam attempted to sift through the crowd, hoping to more clearly see what he had originally spotted, only for it to be of no use, the Metkayina’s naturally broader bodies keeping whatever lay behind them concealed. 

It was made clear from that moment, that if Neteyam wanted to meet whoever had caught his eye, he’d have to wait for them to approach him. So, wait, he did.

The curiosity built in him gradually, turning from a twinkling flame to a rampant stampede with every passing second. Despite not being able to see the approaching Na’vi just yet, Neteyam could feel their presence, every fibre of his being telling him to relax before they had even stepped out into the light.

That alone was enough to tell Neteyam everything he needed to know. Everything he needed to slot the puzzle pieces together. 

Parting for him just as they had done all those months ago, the Metkayina villagers made way for their future chief, making sure he had all the space he needed to comfortably make his way over. 

With his head held high, long curls falling over broad shoulders, his chest puffed out in pride, and a hand hidden behind his back, Ao’nung finally stepped into the same space as Neteyam, disallowing any lingering doubt to remain in his mind. 

Only, Ao’nung didn’t head straight for Neteyam. Well– he did, but not in the way Neteyam had thought he would. 

Instead of heading straight for the Omatikayan boy as Neteyam had expected him to, Ao’nung took on a curved approach, giving Neteyam a wide berth as he slowly began to circle him. Admittedly, it took Neteyam a few seconds longer than he would’ve liked to realise what Ao’nung was doing, but when he did, his face lit up, a beaming smile stretching across his lips. 

This was a dance they had done once before. One they had never revisited, and that Neteyam had momentarily forgotten the steps to, until now. It was a dance that, in the beginning, held little significance, annoyance threading the steps, but now ran much deeper than either of them could’ve ever imagined it to.

Stepping closer to Neteyam, Ao’nung began to deviate from their dance’s original steps, crowding carefully into Neteyam’s space while keeping his left hand firmly hidden behind his back. He didn’t stop there, though. Didn’t pause before Neteyam and drink him in just yet. Alternatively, he circled Neteyam, the Omatikayan’s eyes trailing after him as Ao’nung stepped up behind him. 

Noticing the way Ao’nung’s eyes had pointedly dropped down to his tail, Neteyam couldn’t help but thrash the appendage, its slim tip whipping against Ao’nung’s knee. 

The reasoning of the glance was not lost on Neteyam. He could clearly remember Ao’nung and Rotxo’s taunting words from his first day in the reef, Neteyam’s tail being a subject of amusement for them. But, Neteyam could also remember Ao’nung’s confession. His plea for Neteyam to trust him and how, somehow, mainly because Ao’nung couldn’t help himself, comments about his tail were thrown into the mix. 

It’s why when a bubbling laughter pushed itself out from behind Neteyam’s lips, he couldn’t find the strength to try to hide it, or even be surprised at himself for such a reaction. Matching Neteyam’s amusement with a coy smile of his own, Ao’nung finally put an end to whatever show he was attempting to put on as he came to a stop in front of Neteyam.

“Ma’Teyam,” he cooed, the word coming out as a whisper as he reached his fingers up to his forehead and lowered his hand down in the traditional greeting. 

Feeling his heart swell at the action, the corners of Neteyam’s eyes creased as his smile only grew wider, not being able to control the overflowing joy that was pouring out of him in thrumming waves. Hastily reaching his own hand up to return the greeting, Neteyam mused, “Ma’Nung?”

“I have something for you,” Ao’nung announced in a sing-song type of tone, pulling Neteyam’s gaze away from his, which had been unbashfully drinking in the curve of Ao’nung’s tattoo and the swoop of his nose, and towards the hand pointedly hidden behind Ao’nung’s back. Whatever was being held in it was a mystery to Neteyam, one that had his interest growing with every second. 

“Already?” he teased in response, his head tilting to the side as his expression grew questioning. Neteyam lightly attempted to catch a glimpse of whatever was behind Ao’nung, delicate fingers reaching out to wrap around Ao’nung’s strakes, only for the boy to not budge at all when Neteyam tried to drag his arm out from behind him. An amused, albeit slightly annoyed, huff fell from Neteyam’s lips at the quiet denial, his eyes flickering back up to Ao’nung as he murmured, “I just got back, Tìyawn. I’m sure it could’ve waited until later.”

“No, it definitely could not have,” Ao’nung scoffed, the corner of his lips tugging up into a persistent smirk as he took note of Neteyam’s growing impatience despite his words. If there was one thing Ao’nung knew Neteyam couldn’t resist, no matter how scattered his brain was, it was gifts. “I think if I had to wait one more second before doing this, I would’ve melted into sea foam.”

“Doing what?” Neteyam questioned, his brow muscle furrowing at the ambiguous statement. While the sentiment was sweet, Neteyam couldn’t help but feel bad. Ao’nung shouldn’t have gone to all of this effort, especially when it was Neteyam who had made everybody's lives so much harder. 

If anything, Neteyam should’ve returned to Awa’atlu with a gift handcrafted for every Na’vi whom he had disrupted. Perhaps it wasn’t too late for that. The list wasn’t necessarily long, unless you counted the entire village, since Neteyam did more or less bring war to their shores… But if he only considered the essential affected Na’vi, he was mainly only looking at his and Ao’nung’s families, plus Rotxo. Oh, and the guards who had kept watch over him. 

Once he got home, he would start working on something. Something that accurately summarised everything he had been feeling since connecting to the– 

“Ma’Nung?” Neteyam hesitantly asked as he saw the Metkayina boy lower himself onto one knee, something Neteyam could only ever recall happening in the Sky People stories Jake used to tell him about tawtutes (humans) taking on a mate. “What are you doing?”

“Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk'itan,” Ao’nung began, completely ignoring Neteyam’s question in favour of taking one of his hands into his own. From his kneeling position, Ao’nung looked up at Neteyam with love-filled eyes, the rest of the world completely falling away as he focused on nothing but Neteyam. “Since the moment I saw you, I knew you were the one. With your thin arms, and small lungs, and tiny tail, I knew that no one else would be able to compare to you.”

Feeling his breath hitch, Neteyam froze. Every bone, every joint, and every muscle in his body went still, anticipation thrumming in his veins as he listened to what Ao’nung was saying. 

A small, hopeful part of him had a sneaking suspicion of where Ao’nung was taking this; where his dewy words and foreign actions were going. But Neteyam held his breath until he heard it for himself, belatedly waiting for Ao’nung to confirm it all. 

“You were always so independent, and fierce, and, just, lovely, that I couldn’t help but want to selfishly make you mine,” Ao’nung continued, the infatuated, lovesick smile on his face never once wavering. “And when you lost your memories, it gave me the opportunity to fall in love with you all over again and prove that I’m the right one for you.”

Instinctively tightening his hold over Ao’nung’s hand, Neteyam dared to try and pull the Metkayina closer, only for him to, once again, not budge in the slightest, holding strong until he finished whatever rehearsed monologue he had been keeping tucked away for this moment. 

“With the permission of your father, Tsyeyk Suli, and your mother, Neytiri te Tskaha Mo'at'ite, and the blessing of the Olo’eyktan and Tsahìk,” Neteyam’s breath hitched at Ao’nung’s confession, his head immediately snapping over to where his father and mother stood side by side. They wore matching expressions of joy on their faces, Jake’s being slightly more pinched, while Neytiri’s had a bit of confusion laced in at Ao’nung’s actions, but they were nonetheless filled with unrestrained delight at what they were seeing. 

Neteyam couldn’t help but search for confirmation from the two of them as Ao’nung took half a second to catch his breath, working up the courage to finally ask the question that had been looming over their heads long before Neteyam arrived on that beach for a second time. With a gleeful grin from Neytiri and a steady nod from Jake, Neteyam knew it was real. That this was real, and that this was happening right now. 

Turning his head back to Ao’nung, Neteyam felt his eyes well up with tears that were threatening to spill at any second, his chest rising and falling at a quickened pace as he tried to hold in the excitement that was building. 

With a final, calming breath, Ao’nung declared, “I, Aonung te Tsika'u Tonowari'itan, after completing my rites of passage and becoming an adult in the eyes of the village, am asking you to be my mate, just as I have always intended to.”

Finally removing his hidden hand from behind his back, Ao’nung presented Neteyam with a diadem. One that was void of teeth, and spikes, and bloodshed, and pain, but instead replaced with pearls, and iridescent shells, and promises, and love. Holding it up to Neteyam, Ao’nung allowed for the light to catch his jewellery, displaying the courtship gift with a degree of pride he had never felt before. 

Noticing the way Neteyam gasped at the mere sight of the gift, Ao’nung ran his thumb soothingly over the back of Neteyam’s hand, grinning shyly up at him as he asked, “Will you accept this gift and officially mark the beginning of our courtship, Neteyam?”

There it was. The proposal, the question, the promise of their lives being forever intertwined. 

It was everything Neteyam ever wanted.

“Of course, I will, Ma’Nung,” Neteyam exclaimed, breathless as his head began to nod rapidly. Tugging at Ao’nung’s hand more firmly this time, Neteyam refused to take ‘no’ for an answer as he pulled the Metkayina boy to his feet, immediately throwing his arms around his neck while Ao’nung surged upwards, his hands scooping Neteyam into the air. 

Feeling a bubbling laughter tumble its way out from behind his lips as he was momentarily suspended in the air, Neteyam couldn’t help but bring his forehead to rest against Ao’nung’s, just as they had done so many times in the past. 

“Oel ngati kameie, Ma’Nung,” Neteyam said, finally allowing the tears to slip out from behind his eyes and cascade down his cheeks.

“Oel ngati kameie, Ma’Teyam,” Ao’nung echoed, his face overcome by the largest grin Neteyam had ever seen. With a slightly trembling hand, Ao’nung brought the courtship diadem he had crafted up to Neteyam’s head, slowly separating from him so he could lay it across his forehead, tucking its clips into a few of his braids. When he was satisfied, Ao’nung quickly whispered, “Oel ngati kameie.”

Before anything else could be said, and before Neteyam could even think of telling Ao’nung just how much he loved him in return, Ao’nung leaned in, silencing Neteyam with the simplest of movements as their lips met. 

Feeling the world around him disappear, a surprised squeak being pulled from him before his brain could catch up with what was going on, Neteyam eventually leaned in, absolutely melting into Ao’nung’s hold as he returned Ao’nung’s movements with as much fervour as he could possibly manage, not caring for the way their teeth clanked together in a quick clash. 

When they parted, Ao’nung’s cheeks dusted with purple splotches to match Neteyam’s own, Neteyam couldn’t help but go straight back in for a second kiss. 

And as he did, he realised there was nowhere else he’d rather be. 

AUTHOR'S NOTE: And there you have it. My perfect, full circle moment to 'He Lives in You.'

Ao'nung and Neteyam can finally rest easy 🤭, Jake can stress about his Babyboy getting mated soon 😭, and Lo'ak and Tuk can finally cry about Ao'nung becoming an official member of the Sullys 🤩

Also, that's, like, my first time writing a kissing scene 🫣 I promise it'll be 10x better in my next fic 💕

Once again, I hope you enjoyed this fic, especially since it was my first one in a while, but more importantly, my first one in the Avatar fandom, my longest fic to date, and the first multichaptered one I've ever completed 💪 Hopfully I'll see some of you lovely people in the comments or kudos section of my future fics, and if you ever want to chat, I'm always open to (especially if you want to find out more about my Recom AU 😼)

Love you all 💋💋💋

Prev | Master List | Complete

There was also the calming of panicked wildlife that had many teenagers and children constantly in the water. Attempting to wrangle the Metkayina’s spooked Ilu back into their now calm waters was proving to be a more demanding task with every passing hour, the gentle creatures wary of any outrage that could be lurking. It was trying, but it also taught a great deal of patience. 

Ao’nung helped out wherever he was needed, dutifully tending to whoever called for his assistance. It kept his days busy and his mind silent, allowing him to work without faltering. When night grew closer though, it became harder to ignore the endless itch that had consumed him, never leaving until Ao’nung knew everyone and everything was safe.

That’s why Ao’nung would welcome any distraction that presented itself to him. And what better distraction was there than his charming and beautiful future mate?

“Hey,” Ao’nung tiredly called out as he noticed Neteyam making his way across the white sand and towards him, his thin tail nervously flickering behind him as he walked with a practised grace that Ao’nung had never seen any of the Metkayina be able to replicate. “Did your dad finally relent and allow you to see me?”

“No,” Neteyam said simply, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “He thinks I’m with Rotxo helping make dinner.”

Reaching a hand up to him, Ao’nung lightly grasps at Neteyam’s slim fingers, offering him a sturdy base as he gently lowers himself to the ground next to Ao’nung before shuffling in close to his side. Ao’nung, of course, welcomed him in with open arms, pulling Neteyam closer and helping to rearrange the two of them until they were both comfortable.

The bandages that littered the Omatikayan’s skin were no longer the ones that Ao’nung had prepared for him, replaced mere hours later by Neytiri, so she and Kiri could take a proper look at it. Ao’nung had almost been annoyed by the fact that his care for Neteyam had been stripped away so dismissively, but, like always, Neteyam was there to soothe any of his lingering tension out, granting Ao’nung the blessing of quietly checking him over whenever his worries grew too much.

“Ouch, I’m hurt,” Ao’nung mused, pressing a hand over his heart as he teasingly grimaced at the news. A loud scoff fell from Neteyam’s lips because of that, his hands coming up to push Ao’nung’s shoulder back as he playfully shoved him back. “No, honestly, Ma’Teyam. I’m wounded. How could your dad trust Rotxo more than me?”

“Maybe because Rotxo isn’t trying to become my mate,” Neteyam snorted, his eyes rolling as Ao’nung’s hands snaked up to catch his wrists, a bubbling laugh erupting from his chest. 

“His loss,” Ao’nung professed, the two words unsurprisingly sounding like a clash of dreamy victory and grumbling possession. He couldn’t help it. Not when the thought of Neteyam potentially being with another crossed his mind (even if Ao’nung had already won the Omatikayan’s heart). “But, if I may ask, what brings you all the way out here to me if you’re supposed to be helping prepare dinner?”

Immediately upon hearing the question, Neteyam’s face fell. With folded back ears, Neteyam announced, “I have news.”

At the dejected frown on his future mate’s face, Ao’nung couldn’t help but feel a sliver of distress curl its way into his stomach and take hold of the Dorado Verde (A smaller subspecies of Ikran) that were normally fluttering around in there whenever he was with Neteyam. He didn’t dare say anything, though. Opting to quietly observe Neteyam with hooded eyes as he worked through what he wanted to say.

“My dad spoke to Kiri this morning about Telisi…” he began, testing the way the words fit on his tongue as his eyes pointedly stared down at where Ao’nung was softly holding onto his wrists, connecting them to one another. “And since Kiri thinks Telisi should be okay to fly with me again…”

Ao’nung held his breath, already knowing what was coming, but not wanting to believe it. 

For days, he knew it was coming. From that very first moment he ran into Neteyam in the thin forest that bordered Awa’atlu, he knew his time with Neteyam before he’d be forced to return to the forest was limited. 

But even if he knew it would only be for a couple of days, nothing compared to the time Ao’nung had spent in limbo as he waited to see if Neteyam was alive, he couldn’t stand the thought of being away from him, even if it meant Neteyam could get better and no longer live a life of confusion.

Call Ao’nung selfish, because he was. But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s been dreading this conversation for days now, especially since there was no longer any looming threat of war.

“We’re going to be leaving for the Na'rìng forest at the first break of light tomorrow.” The words felt like a direct attack as Neteyam spoke, the crease in his face dampening as he adjusted the hold Ao’nung had on him so that they were hand-in-hand. It wasn’t enough, though. Would never be enough for Ao’nung when the prospect of the other leaving was hanging over both of their heads. “They think my grandmother can cure me, and that they’ve waited long enough for this.”

“That’s good, Ma’Teyam,” Ao’nung whispered, his voice cracking halfway through. It wasn’t really good. Ao’nung would much rather be screaming, and kicking, and dragging Neteyam off to somewhere where he could keep him safe and secure, but none of that was an option for him. Not when this is what everyone had been waiting for. So, instead, Ao’nung muttered, “You’ll finally learn everything you’ve been missing out on.”

“Yeah,” Neteyam sighed, his ears refusing to flex from where they were tightly trapped against the side of his head. The sight pained Ao’nung, but a small, miserable part of him couldn’t help but take satisfaction in the other’s discomfort, knowing that the sentiment would be shared then. “I’ll be able to remember.”

“What’s wrong, Yawne (Beloved)?” Ao’nung asked when he heard Neteyam’s voice tremble on that last word, his frown worsening. Extracting a careful hand from Neteyam’s grip, Ao’nung lightly tapped the Omatikayan boy's chin, making him lift his head so he could meet Ao’nung’s eyes. “You make it sound like that’s not a good thing.”

“I’m just worried,” Neteyam confessed, not being able to look away from Ao’nung now that he had the Metkayina’s sea blue eyes boring into his amber ones. “What if my grandmother can’t fix me? Everyone’s so excited for the old me to come back, and I’m scared that whatever they have planned won’t work and that they’ll be disappointed with what’s left over.”

Neteyam… regarded with disappointment…? Perhaps the Mangkwan really had won the war because there was no way that Ao’nung was hearing him correctly. No way that those words had just left his boy's mouth. 

Ao’nung would much sooner cut his own kuru off than ever allow such a thought to manifest in Neteyam’s mind, but here he was, with his future mate filled with nothing but doubt.

He couldn’t stand for that. Not when Neteyam had spent his whole life trying to be flawless for others, giving up his own free will, hobbies, and time to dutifully follow after his siblings to make sure that they were staying out of trouble and enjoying themselves. 

And certainly not when Neteyam’s biggest insecurity since realising there was more to himself was finally about to be addressed. 

“No one could ever be disappointed in you, Yawne (Beloved),” Ao’nung admitted with so much certainty in his voice that it had Neteyam’s pupils dilating, the force behind his words sinking in and leaving no room for any sort of doubt. “You are the most perfect creation to ever walk this moon, okay? It’s like Eywa herself took all the time in the world to design you, and if they’re not happy with that, then they’re out of their minds.”

“You don’t mean that,” Neteyam weakly uttered, shaking his head as if he didn’t want to believe what Ao’nung was saying.

“I do,” Ao’nung reassured, sliding his hand up to instead cup the side of Neteyam’s face. Being with Neteyam, for Ao’nung, felt as easy as breathing. It’s why he never gave himself even a second to second-guess his words as he said, “With every bone in my body, I do, Ma’Teyam.”

For a long moment, Neteyam did nothing but stare at Ao’nung. His eyes fluttered over the lines of Ao’nung’s face, studying him silently as he internally tested the weight behind Ao’nung’s words. 

Ao’nung couldn’t tell whether or not Neteyam believed him. Couldn’t tell if Neteyam realised just how true his words rang. But Ao’nung would make it crystal clear to the Omatikayan boy that he had never said a single thing in vain when it came to him.

Bumping his nose into the side of Neteyam’s face, Ao’nung stayed there for a moment, physically holding Neteyam still as he breathed him in. From the way Neteyam’s tail flickered lightly behind him, Ao’nung could tell the other boy was curious, the way he leaned into Ao’nung’s warmth, doing nothing to hide it. 

“And everyone else can see it too–” Ao’nung had begun to say, only to get cut off not even a moment later.

“What’s going on here?” the bubbly voice of Tuk echoed down the beach as she skipped over to the pair, pulling a loud groan from Ao’nung as he thumped his head down onto Neteyam’s shoulder. “I thought Sempu (Daddy) said you couldn’t be alone with Ao’nung anymore, Teyam?”

“Uh, yeah, he did, Tuk Tuk,” Neteyam fumbled, his words coming out choppy as he sat up straighter in Ao’nung’s arms. “But I was just telling Ao’nung about how we’re leaving tomorrow.”

“And cuddling,” Tuk stated, eyeing the way the two of them were wrapped with comically wide eyes.

A loud snort tore itself from Ao’nung at the observation, making Neteyam’s elbow sharply jut into his side to try and cut the noise off. With a quiet ‘ow’ that got ignored by the two Omatiayan Na’vi, Neteyam dumbly tried to backpedal the conversation, uttering a soft, “What?”

“You're cuddling right now,” one of Tuk’s hands rose as she spoke, pointing at how Ao’nung’s arms were securely wrapped around Neteyam’s waist, one of the latter’s hands delicately placed against his teal chest. Even if the two of them wanted to, it would’ve been impossible to try and deny Tuk’s claim (not that Ao’nung would ever wish to), as the evidence sat right before her eyes. “That’s breaking two of Sempu’s (Daddy’s) rules.”

“Tuk…” Neteyam sighed, his tail flicking irritably behind him at the mention of Jake’s ‘ground rules’ for them, which, really, were just a way of keeping them apart. 

“He told me to tell him if either of you tries to break his rules,” Tuk annoyingly declared, looking far too smug with herself for catching Ao’nung and Neteyam out like this. 

“Little Fish, come on,” Ao’nung tried, hoping to reason with the little girl as he shifted in his seat slightly. He never once let go of Neteyam as he moved, in fact, he basically pulled Neteyam nearer as he sat up, manhandling the other without any verbal complaints as he turned fully to Tuk. “I’m sure we can work something out so that this stays between just us.”

“Nope,” she grinned, having to cover her mouth to stop any of her soft giggles from falling out. 

Before Ao’nung could say anything else, the idea of teaching Tuk how to harvest pearls coming to mind as a decent bargaining chip, the girl spun on her heels and took off, kicking up sand with every step she took. 

Feeling his eyes widen as his only hope of escaping Jake Sully’s wrath disappeared, Ao’nung tried hopelessly to call out for her, even raising slightly from his seat as he did, “Tuk, wait!”

“It’s no use, Ma’Nung,” Neteyam lightly mused at Ao’nung’s desperation, using the hand he had positioned on the Metkayina’s chest to push him back down onto the sand. “I’m pretty sure he promised her a ride with Toruk if she ever catches us. There’s no convincing her otherwise with that on the table.”

“But, Yawne (Beloved),” Ao’nung stressed, his lips thinning together momentarily as his eyes darted towards Tuk’s retreating figure. Even if he wanted to do anything, it would be too late now, the little Omatikayan girl already far enough gone that she’d make it home to the Sullys marui before he could catch up. “It’s not you who he’s going to go after when Tuk tells him about this.”

“He’s not going to do anything,” Neteyam playfully scoffed, his eyes rolling at the smidgen of fear he was able to locate in Ao’nung’s eyes. “If you’re so worried about him, I’ll make sure to protect you, you big baby.”

“Did you just insult me?” Ao’nung feigned a gasp, his head snapping towards Neteyam as his backhanded promise registered in his mind. Smiling sheepishly from within his arms, a soft, tittering laugh already falling from his lips, Neteyam made no attempt to hide the amusement in his eyes as he toyed with his lover. That didn’t stop Ao’nung from shooting Neteyam a betrayed pout, his ears purposely twisting downwards, despite the loving hand that was playing with his curls. “Ma’Teyam! You’re supposed to be comforting me, not making me feel worse.”

“You’re just too easy when it comes to this, Tìyawn (Love),” Neteyam mused, bumping their foreheads together for a few moments, his eyes slipping closed to enjoy the moment. And while Ao’nung found himself embracing the connection more than Neteyam himself, leaning into the hold and even going as far as to seek more, he refused (or at least tried to) to let it show. “But, please, don’t act like you’re not just as bad.”

“I don’t know what you’re taking about,” Ao’nung huffed, hardly fighting off the smile that was threatening to break across his face. Neteyam pulled back at that, arching one of his non-existent brows as he shot Ao’nung an unimpressed look, forcing him to reword his claim. “I’ve never once laughed at you because my mother has scolded us for breaking courtship traditions.”

“Maybe,” Neteyam quietly relented, giving Ao’nung a small victory, even if it were only for a few short-lived moments. “But you have teased me before because not all of us can be as vulgar as you.”

“That’s only because you’re cute when you get flustered,” Ao’nung quipped, biting back a smirk as his eyes danced across Neteyam’s face, taking in the way that even now, despite Ao’nung not doing anything, Neteyam was seeming to be a bit purple at the ears, that gorgeous hue steadily spreading to the rest of his face despite his calm exterior. “It’s not the same.”

“Alright, you’re right,” Neteyam sighed, though the roll of his eyes told Ao’nung he didn’t necessarily agree with what he was saying. Still, Ao’nung was more than ready to bask in the admittance. It wasn’t, after all, every day that Ao’nung could pull such a claim from Neteyam. “I’m sorry, Ma’Nung.”

“Thank you,” Ao’nung grinned, smug as he brought a hand up to pinch at Neteyam’s right cheek, the Omatikayan instinctively scrunching his nose at the action. 

Perhaps that had been Ao’nung’s biggest mistake of the night.

“But if you don’t want to find out what lecture my dad has in store for us today, I think it’s time I take my leave,” Neteyam announced after a moment, letting out an over-the-top sigh as he looked dejectedly away from Ao’nung. 

Letting out a loud groan that went ignored by his lover, Ao’nung’s head dropped to Neteyam’s shoulder, his hold tightening as he silently refused to let the other go. Not in a million years would Ao’nung ever want to let the Omatikayan go, especially when it would mean temporarily saying ‘goodbye’ to him as he returned to his home and made peace with the forest. But that choice wasn’t up to Ao’nung; had never been. Still, that didn’t stop him from trying to latch on to the time he still had.

And for a few seconds though, Neteyam allowed for this to happen, running delicate fingers along Ao’nung’s back and through his curls. It almost brought peace to Ao’nung’s mind that this would be their last private moment before Neteyam returned. Key word: almost. 

But before Ao’nung could truly relax into it, Neteyam’s body went stiff, freezing entirely in Ao’nung’s hold. Then, in an almost (read: attempted) timid manner, he said, “Oh, look. I think I can see him coming now.”

“What?” Ao’nung panicked, sucking in a breath of air too quickly as his head snapped around to where the village started, searching for Jake Sully’s raging eyes, only to find nothing but empty woven pathways and calm beaches.

Holding his breath for a moment, Ao’nung waited for everything to take a turn for the worse. Just because Ao’nung didn’t see him yet, Neteyam always having had better eyesight than him from all the years he spent doing archery, didn’t mean that the famous Toruk Makto wasn’t out there lurking, stalking towards them as he thought of the best way to dispose of Ao’nung’s body. 

So, because of that, Ao’nung was ready for Jake to appear any second now.

But he didn’t. The walkways remained barren, the sand was left undisturbed, and Neteyam could be seen attempting, and failing, to stifle his laughter in Ao’nung’s lap. 

“You liar,” Ao’nung shouted, his eyes still wide from almost bulging out of his head. Using his hold on Neteyam to his advantage, Ao’nung flipped the Neteyam over onto his back, caging the Omatikayan boy in as he hovered over him with a scowl. “Don’t joke like that, Ma’Teyam. I actually thought my time was up for a second.”

“Aww, Tìyawn (Love),” Neteyam cooed, not minding the new position at all as he instead focused on pinching Ao’nung’s cheek just as the Metkayina had done to him not even a minute ago. “You should’ve seen your face. I wish one of the painters were here to see it so they could’ve replicated it for me.”

“Not funny,” Ao’nung pouted, his voice coming dangerously close to a whine as he turned his face into Neteyam’s hand, forcing him to cup Ao’nung’s cheek. 

“Of course not,” Neteyam nodded, biting at his bottom lip to try and keep his face serious. Of course, he failed miserably. Ao’nung didn’t mind though, not really. Especially when he had Neteyam in front of him like this. But, like most good things, they never lasted. Neteyam made that clear when he said, “But I must really go now, Ma’Nung. It’s getting late and, from what I’ve heard, I’ve got a long flight awaiting me tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Ao’nung sighed, not making any move to get off from on top of Neteyam. It didn’t seem that Neteyam minded, though. Using those few extra seconds of Ao’nung’s clinginess to lay with the Metkayina’s face in his hand, and an eyeful of who his heart belonged to.

“But I’ll see you in the morning, won’t I?” Neteyam quietly asked, almost looking shy now as he posed the question. “You’ll be there to see me off?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Ao’nung said without a thought, not needing more than a second to decide.

His answer brought a small smile to Neteyam’s face, his golden eyes lighting up as the promise hung between them. Loudly, despite the hushed nature that the two were sharing, Ao’nung’s words swore that this wouldn’t be the end. They would have another chance to see each other, and even then, Neteyam would return. Return to Awa’atlu. Return to Ao’nung. Return to this. 

“Good,” Neteyam whispered, his eyes skirting across Ao’nung’s face before moving to sit up, forcing the Metkayina to adjust with him so that they didn’t collide. Pushing himself into a low crouch, Neteyam was more than ready to get up and take his leave (despite his entire heart telling him to stay), when a sudden thought came to mind, making him stop in his actions and regard Ao’nung, “Oh! Also…”

With an accusing finger jammed in his face, Ao’nung couldn’t stop a lopsided smile from stretching across his lips, even if he didn’t know what Neteyam was getting at. Inclining his head down a little, Ao’nung waited for the Omatikayan boy to tell him, not bothering to hide the way he enjoyed the sudden authority. 

“I'd better not return to see you with any new tattoos,” Neteyam announced, his eyes narrowing as they instinctively went to the black ink that swirled around half of Ao’nung’s face. While it was undeniably pretty, complimenting his teal skin so perfectly, Neteyam couldn’t help but be a little bit bitter about its arrival. “I already had to find out you got one without me through fragmentary memories. Don’t let the same thing happen again.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” Ao’nung mused, though it was impossible to ignore how much sincerity had been placed behind his words. That didn’t last long, though. Not when Ao’nung was quickly adding, “Besides, my next tattoo is reserved for someone special.”

Instantly, a hue of purple splotches filled Neteyam’s cheeks, his eyes lowering due to the intense eye contact that Ao’nung was shooting his way. The reaction, like most things Neteyam did, was seen as incredibly cute by Ao’nung, making the smile on his lips widen into a smirk as he giddily watched.

“Don’t say things like that,” Neteyam quietly muttered, pushing a hand lightly against Ao’nung’s shoulder to send him rocking back slightly. “You’re making it harder for me to walk away.”

“Good,” he said, not being able to stop the way those words made his heart fill with hope. Ao’nung knew that eventually Neteyam would have to take a step back. If not by his own free will, then by Jake finally coming out to separate them. But if there was something Ao’nung could do to prolong that moment, he would sure as hell do it. “You should be spending the night with me anyway. I can’t believe they burned our marui down. I mean, out of all the ones they could’ve chosen from, of course, they got ours.”

“We will build a new one when I return,” Neteyam promised, his eyes softening even more than they had already been as his tail gave a soft twitch behind him, expressing his nervousness at the claim. “But until then… Bye, Ma’Nung.”

“Bye, Ma’Teyam,” Ao’nung said, trying not to sigh or let any of his sadness come through. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Good,” Neteyam murmured, softly nodding his head. Standing slowly, Neteyam used all the strength he could muster to turn away from Ao’nung, walking along the beach hurriedly so he couldn’t give in to the urge to turn around and run straight back into Ao’nung’s arms.

Watching him go, Ao’nung didn’t turn away until Neteyam was fully out of sight, and even then, it took longer than it should’ve for Ao’nung to look away from the empty village behind him.

After that, Ao’nung didn’t know how long he stayed rooted to his spot in the sand. It could’ve been mere minutes or stretched long hours, but Ao’nung didn’t know until Tsireya came searching for him, informing Ao’nung that dinner was ready and that their parents were growing worried with how long he had been gone. 

The night from then on was uneventful. Ao’nung returned to his Tsika'u’s marui with Tsireya in tow, had dinner with his family, helped put Pril to bed, and then lay on his own sleeping mat. Only, Ao’nung didn’t sleep. He spent the whole night tossing and turning, fighting sleep that was so desperately trying to take him into its clutches. Because if Ao’nung did fall asleep, that would mean it was real. 

When he woke up, Neteyam would be leaving. He’d be once again alone in Awa’atlu, despite all the friends and family he had surrounding him. At least this time, he knew Neteyam wasn’t really gone, only on a short departure to cure what had been plaguing him and so many others for so long. That, unfortunately, didn’t give Ao’nung as much peace of mind as it should’ve. 

Eventually, though, Ao’nung gave in. Was forced to. 

It was probably the worst bit of sleep he had gotten in days, making him wake with an ache in his neck, a grogginess to his head, and a sourness that couldn’t be deterred as he slowly began to mill around his family’s marui and get ready for the day. 

He wasn’t able to spend too much time dwelling on the morning though, as before Ao’nung knew it, he could see the sun begin to shine over Awa’atlu, making his movements speed up, and his pace pick up once he left the marui. Already, as Ao’nung made his way through the village, he could hear the rumbling of Ikran, their chirps softened for once to be mindful of the still sleeping Na’vi. 

This was probably the quietest Ao’nung had ever heard the creatures, far too accustomed to Telisi’s screeches after the many days Neteyam insisted on his getting to know the beast months ago, before the accident. That wasn’t to say Ao’nung didn’t mind the sudden quietness; in fact, he preferred it. It allowed for the mood to settle, something vaguely melancholic that shouldn’t be disturbed. 

Spotting Neteyam among the sea of navy was probably one of the easiest things Ao’nung had done in days, his eyes naturally being drawn to his lean figure as he stood by Telisi’s side, gently stroking the Ikran’s neck as he waited for his family to be ready to take off. By the looks of things, it was Lo’ak that was holding them all back, still shuffling things onto his Ikran’s back despite the trip only meaning to last a couple of days. For once, Ao’nung was grateful for the boy's tardiness, allowing him a few extra moments with his future mate.

Stepping up to him, Ao’nung immediately took notice of the Pxazang (Akula) necklace that was wrapped around his neck, it being the same one that Ao’nung had given to him before the accident that had taken Neteyam from him. The sight of the jewellery brought a small smile to Ao’nung’s face, his heart relaxing knowing that Neteyam would be taking a piece of the Metkayina with him.

“Ma’Nung,” Neteyam smiled immediately upon seeing Ao’nung, bringing the boy into his arms as he wrapped him in a tight hug. Ao’nung melted into the contact, wrapping his arms around the Omatikayan’s waist as he tucked his face into Neteyam’s neck, breathing him in for one last time. “I’ll see you in a couple of days, okay?”

“Okay,” Ao’nung whispered, giving the boy a quick squeeze before leaning back a bit to properly take him in. It was bittersweet to let Neteyam go, but Ao’nung knew he would come back to him. He always did. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Neteyam sighed happily, his fingers tightening around Ao’nung’s shoulders. “And oel ngati kameie (I see you).”

Ao’nung’s breath hitched as those words were spoken to life, no amount of times he’d heard them before preparing him for the next. But, as Ao’nung felt warmth spread in his chest, he found he never wanted to be prepared to hear those words. With a booming smile, Ao’nung uttered, “Oel ngati kameie (I see you), Ma’Teyam.”

“Alright, that’s enough, you two,” Jake announced, never allowing Ao’nung and Neteyam to have a peaceful moment as his words cut through the space between them. “We’re going now.”

“Okay, Dad,” Neteyam confirmed, lightly waving him off as he kept his eyes glued on Ao’nung. If it had been any other moment, Ao’nung might’ve laughed at the interaction, even if it cost him a nasty glare from Jake. But, since these were his final few moments with Neteyam, he kept his attention solely on him. With a shy smile, Neteyam said, “Bye, Tìyawn (Love).”

“Bye, Yawne (Beloved),” Ao’nung echoed, his arms slowly dropping from around Neteyam’s figure as he took a step back, giving him the space he needed to mount Telisi, still being mindful of the injury on her back, even if it had healed mostly, and take off. 

Reaching a hand up into the air, Ao’nung waved Neteyam off, his eyes never once leaving his retreating figure. Even when they were nothing but mere specs in the sky, Ao’nung didn’t look away. Couldn’t.

Soon, he’d be back. And just like last time, Ao’nung would be waiting for him.

The entire flight, Neteyam had stuck close to Jake and Neytiri. He didn’t exude the same amount of excitement as Lo’ak and Spider, the two of them racing as far as Lo’ak’s Ikran would allow for them, or the same comfort that Kiri felt at being able to return to her original home. 

Instead, Neteyam felt a quiet, steadily building uneasiness that gripped his shoulders and refused to let go. It sank its teeth into his skin, reminding him that no matter where he went or what he did, he didn’t remember, and that he wasn’t ready for what awaited him. It made returning to the Na'rìng forest more stressful than it should’ve been, because while the rest of his family was only returning after a short while away, he was experiencing it all for the first time again.

Perhaps he should’ve been more enthusiastic. He was finally going to meet Mo’at, his grandmother, Norm, the Sky Person scientist that Jake had been raving about, promising that he’d be gentle when it came time for his scans, and Tarsem, the Olo’eyktan that had replaced his dad. Neteyam would also be able to see where he grew up, the paths he had once walked, and the sights he had discovered. 

Still, as Jake told everyone to fall in, the floating Hallelujah Mountain range coming up before them, Neteyam felt his pulse spike. And it only worsened as they approached the Mons Veritatis cave system, his nerves lighting as he spotted the opening that led them directly to High Camp. 

Holding his breath as they neared, Neteyam instructed Telisi to touch down carefully, his eyes noticeably skimming across the small crowd that was waiting for them and the jagged spikes that hung from the cave system's ceiling. He tried not to pay the former or those two things too much attention yet though, wanting to escape the impending fretting that was waiting for him. 

“Sa'nok,” Neytiri practically cried as she and Sa’ata landed, her body being thrown off the Ikran and towards an older Na’vi who stood towards the front of the gathered group. With open arms and a warm smile, the woman welcomed her in.

“Ma’ite,” she spoke, a hand coming up to run along Neytiri’s braids as she embraced her. Even from where Neteyam sat on Telisi’s back, refusing to move despite the rest of his family slowly mingling with the Omatikaya, Neteyam could tell the woman was a mighty force, feeling her aura regardless of the distance between them. “You’re looking better.”

“Yes,” Neytiri simply said as she moved out of the woman's hold slightly, regarding her with hope-filled eyes that refused to be deterred. “The Great Mother has finally answered my prayers.”

Upon those words, Neteyam instantly knew that his mother was speaking about him. It was no secret that Neytiri had been doing everything in her power to get him back, her sleepless nights searching and restless days arguing with whoever opposed her on her search for Neteyam being told to him in hushed whispers. He should’ve been honoured that Neytiri would put so much time and effort into getting him back, going as far as to pray to Eywa for his return, but he didn’t. He just felt like a burden.

“Neteyamur, come here,” Neytiri called out to him, snapping Neteyam from his frown-inducing thoughts as she waved him over. She was the first brave enough to do so, as well. No one from the Omatikayan clan or the Sky People who stood nearby had dared to approach him, all instead restricting themselves to quietly observing Neteyam after hearing of the state he had been forced to. “Meet your grandmother.”

Staring at the open invitation of Neytiri’s hand and the kind smile that filtered onto Mo’at’s face, Neteyam didn’t move for a few seconds, regarding the two of them with an air of hesitancy. It didn’t help much that Neteyam currently had all eyes glued to him, the surrounding onlookers watching with interest, but Neteyam tried not to spare them too much mind.

Taking a deep breath, Neteyam broke the shared tsaheylu he had with Telisi and gently removed himself from her back, running a fleeting hand along her neck as he turned towards Neytiri. With his shoulders bunching up subconsciously towards his ears, Neteyam made his way over to his mother, trying not to instinctively flinch when her outstretched palm landed on his back, beckoning him closer to the older woman before him.

“Oh, Neteyam,” Mo’at sighed as her eyes landed on him, clearly drinking up every inch of Neteyam as her amber irises flickered between his different wounds, hovering on the silver scar on his chest for a few extra seconds longer than necessary. “What have they done to you?”

“It’s nothing, really,” he softly answered, waving her concern off with a shrug. From the way Mo’at’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, her head tilting to the side in suspicion, Neteyam could tell that the woman didn’t believe him, his indifference doing nothing but to make her worry grow. It’s why Neteyam quickly found himself adding on in an attempt to appease her, “I’ve been taking care of them so they don’t grow worse.”

“Hmm,” she simply hummed in response, her look unwavering as she went back to taking in each of his individual wounds, assessing them for herself without making contact so that she could be the judge.

Neteyam was helpless to do anything but allow the quiet observation, Neytiri wordlessly holding him in place so he couldn’t try to turn away from her scrutiny. For some odd reason, Neteyam couldn’t find it in himself to mind Mo’at’s thoughtful gaze. In fact, it felt almost natural. As if that’s how it was meant to be.

Perhaps a long time ago, it had been just like this. Neteyam had come to learn over the past few weeks that if something felt right, something that he thought he had never done before ending up sitting snuggly in his chest, it often meant that he was exactly where he was supposed to be. He had felt it with the Sullys when he first met them in the Mangkwan’s attack, had felt it when he met Ao’nung behind Awa’atlu, and now he was feeling it with Mo’at. 

So, he let her do what she needed to do without interruption. Something that never took long when it involved his family.

“Neteyam, this is Norm,” Jake called out as he made his way over to Neteyam, one of his hands planted on the back of an Uniltìrantokx (Avatar / Dreamwalker) as he guided him forward. “He’s the scientist I was telling you about.”

Taking the man in, Neteyam did a quick once-over of Norm. He noticed the way the Uniltìrantokx clung onto his Sky People clothes, not engraving himself as deeply into Na’vi culture as Jake had. He noticed how Norm had a series of gadgets attached to his body, a holographic tablet tucked under one of his arms as he gave Neteyam his full attention. He noticed how he was being stared at as if there was something being expected out of him, which, Neteyam quickly realised, there was, as everyone waited for some sort of reaction out of him.

Swallowing thickly, Neteyam’s eyes darted to Neytiri’s and then Jake’s, a sliver of hesitancy appearing in his golden irises. Similarly to Mo’at, Neteyam could sense Norm fitting into place somewhere within him, as if a puzzle piece was finally finding its home. Only, Neteyam could tell they didn’t have that familial connection, and the purpose behind Norm’s presence wasn’t exactly one Neteyam could find himself looking forward to. 

He was, after all, only there to run tests on Neteyam. And while Neteyam couldn’t exactly remember any of the Sky People’s testing practices, he had heard enough about them from his short time in Bridgehead City when Ti’ol had been attempting to scare him into compliance. It had all been a promise of pain: tools that looked into your mind, equipment that left you shaking, hands that disallowed your body from being your own. 

Of course, Neteyam knew his family would never set him up to face such a threat… he hoped. Neteyam had long since come to terms with the fact that the Sullys were telling him the truth, but as he stood face to face with one of the final deciding factors, someone who would make it all come true, Neteyam couldn’t help but let doubt creep in. Still, he put on a brave face and tried to say, “Um, it’s nice to meet you again, Norm.”

“Yeah, likewise, kid,” Norm smiled, easy and kind, as if this was a conversation they’d had before, or at least one that he had time to prepare for. Which, he probably did. Norm was, after all, the one whom Jake had been saying would collect Neteyam and bring him to the Omatikaya back when Neteyam was staying true to the Mangkwan. It only made sense that he’d have been preparing for this day.

“He’s got a few tests he’d like to run before Mo’at can take you to the Vitraya Ramunong (Tree of Souls),” Jake narrated, his shoulders relaxing as they took one step closer to resolving what had been plaguing the Sullys for many months now. Only, Neteyam couldn’t share that sentiment.

In fact, Neteyam’s entire body grew stiff, taking on a stark contrast to how he should have been feeling. He couldn’t help it, though. Ti’ol’s careless taunts still occupied his mind, reminding him of how close he had come to losing all of this and forsaking his family to instead live a lie. And while Neteyam knew (or, at least, he hoped that) Norm wouldn’t do anything that the Mangkwan had been promising to, not with his parents on watch, he imagined all the things that could go wrong despite it.

Sensing Neteyam’s growing discomfort, Jake settled a hand on the boy’s back, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into his navy skin. Taking a step closer to him, Jake silently positioned himself in Neteyam’s space, allowing him to see out any necessary comfort that he needed without having to ask. “Don’t worry, Son. It’s nothing too crazy. Right, Norm?” Jake assured quietly, his voice gentle in a way that eliminated all doubt.

“That’s right,” Norm quickly nodded, catching the pointed stare Jake had shot him over the top of Neteyam’s head. “The main thing I have to do is just a few scans to make sure there isn’t any internal damage before you connect that could complicate things. I mainly just need to get a look at that brain of yours. And then, if you like, I can also take a look at your wounds, both new and old.”

It didn’t take a genius to figure out which wounds Norm was referring to, especially when the scarring silver tissue on Neteyam’s chest had been the talk of Awa’atlu since he was taken in by the Sullys. Even extending further to High Camp now, since Mo’at had decided to take a particular interest in it. And, as if it wasn’t obvious enough, Norm’s eyes had been directly locked onto the wound as he spoke, his artificial golden gaze scanning Neteyam’s chest with a varying degree of interest for his other injuries. 

“You don’t have to do that,” Neteyam tried to politely decline, bringing his hands together to fidget with his fingers once he noticed the slightly strained smile on Jake’s face at his refusal. He didn’t mean to disappoint his father, but Neteyam was already wary about whatever ‘scans’ Norm wanted to run on him. If he could, Neteyam just wanted to be in and out of Norm’s clutches as quickly as possible, and an assessment of his injuries would only make that longer. “While Varang may have been lying to me about a number of things, I trust her work as Tsahìk.”

Norm looked as if he wanted to argue, a rebuttal sitting on the tip of his tongue that he had to bite down on to prevent it from slipping past his lips. Neteyam could see a similar expression on Neytiri’s face from the corner of his eyes, though he distain was strictly reserved for any and all mentions of the woman who had tricked Neteyam into believing she was his mother. Luckily, though, neither of them argued; Norm simply muttering, albeit a bit painfully, “...If you’re sure.”

“Positive,” Neteyam cut in before any other ideas could be raised. Perhaps he’d be more willing to entertain their wishes after, when his mind was no longer fuzzy, and he trusted Norm completely. But until Neteyam’s memories were restored (if they ever were), he’d like to keep this process as quick and professional as possible. “So, um, can we start now, then? I want to get this over with.”

“Of course, oeyä hì'i tsamsiyu (my little warrior),” Neytiri agreed, running a hand along Neteyam’s arm as she and Jake flanked him. She wore a content smile on her face, quietly reassuring Neteyam that he was exactly where he was supposed to be, and that everything would work out in due time. “Come. Let’s start these scans so we can be whole once more.”

Silently, Norm turned around and began leading the way to a small Sky Person settlement that was tucked away within the cave system, opening the mechanical door to allow Neteyam, Jake and Neytiri to step inside. Behind them, Neteyam could tell the rest of his family and some of the other Na’vi gathered had followed after them, though none of them dared to follow them in, taking up watch from the outside where they could peer in via the windows. 

Making his way over to a cushioned seat, Norm began adjusting the positioning of it, shifting it until it was completely laid flat for Neteyam to lie against. Norm made no indication for Neteyam to take up the bed, but it was obvious that he wanted Neteyam to do so with how he picked up a machine Neteyam had never seen before, playing around with the buttons on it as he stood idly by the altered chair.

Feeling a subtle nudge on his back from where Jake had refused to remove himself from him, Neteyam hesitated at the hushed encouragement, turning his nervous eyes onto his father. It was obvious for all to see that Neteyam wasn’t happy to be where he was, his uncertainty apparent from the moment he and Telisi had landed in High Camp. But now, with folded back ears and downturned lips aimed at Jake, it wasn’t as easily ignorable as it had been when they first arrived.

“You don’t have to worry, Babyboy. Nothing bad’s going to happen to you,” Jake promised as soon as he saw the look on Neteyam’s face, his own ears tugging down as his heart ached at the expression. “Your mother and I are going to be here the entire time, okay? If anything makes you uncomfortable, just let us know, and we’ll see what we can do, but we need to go through with these scans. We can’t have you connecting with Eywa just for you have a seizure or something worse.”

“I know,” Neteyam deflated slightly as he spoke, his tail unconsciously wrapping around his own thigh as he remained rooted to where he stood. He was being weak. He was letting everyone know just how pathetic and shameful he was as he stood there scared of something his parents had already identified as safe. It was pitiful, really, but Neteyam couldn’t let go of the sliver of fear that was curling to life in the pit of his stomach. “Just… please don’t leave me.”

“We would never, oeyä hì'i tsamsiyu (my little warrior),” Neytiri immediately murmured, reaching a hand up to tuck some of his stray braids behind his ear. Neteyam allowed himself to lean into the contact for a moment, his eyes slipping shut as he embraced the warmth that was seeping out from Neytiri’s nimble fingers. “Nothing could ever make us do such a thing.”

“That’s right,” Jake said, jumping in. It was admirable how quickly the both of them stepped up to comfort Neteyam after all he had done to them. Even now, as Jake’s hand began to rub small circles once more into his skin, there was not a hint of doubt in any of his movements that let on how much pain Neteyam had caused them in the past. “We’re not going anywhere, Babyboy.”

Taking in Jake and Neytiri’s faces, Neteyam analysed the warmth and encouragement that was wafting out from them, looking for any cracks that might betray any ulterior motives. But when he found nothing, Neteyam mentally kicked himself for ever thinking that his parents were even capable of such a thing. 

With a small nod of his head, Neteyam breathed out, leaving no room for regret, “Okay.”

Stepping out of his parents' embrace before he could notice the relief that flooded their features, Neteyam hesitantly made his way over to the adjusted seat. With a long pause, Neteyam regarded the chair, eyeing the grey cushions with clear distrust before he slowly settled himself onto it, his tail twitching as the soft material gave way under his weight.

Bringing his legs up, Neteyam almost tucked his knees towards his chest, but was quickly stopped when Norm patted the extended chair, motioning for him to lie down properly. Still brimming with vacillation, Neteytam did so at a snail's pace, pausing at every squeak from the chair or unfamiliar twist until he was settled stiffly where Norm wanted him. 

“This shouldn’t take long, Neteyam,” Norm mindlessly began to explain as he fiddled with one of his computers, tapping away at it as his mouth went on autopilot. “But I’m going to need you to stay very still. The machine is going to do an external scan of your brain, which should tell us everything we need to know. If there are any anomalies though, we might have to wire you up.”

“Wire me up?” Neteyam nervously asked, his nose scrunching at the foreign term. His eyes flickered over to where Jake and Neytiri were standing, Neytiri sending her own confused glances to Jake while he stared Norm down with a slight furrow to his brow. 

“Don’t worry, it’s not painful,” Nom tried to say, not even sparing Neteyam a glance as he pulled up a screen for all to see. Right now, it was blank, but Neteyam was sure it would soon be filled with whatever Norm was trying to look at inside of him. 

“Norm,” Jake quietly hissed, snapping the scientist's gaze away from his devices and instead demanding his attention be brought back to what was at hand. 

“I mean,” Norm paled slightly, taking in Jake’s annoyance, Neytiri’s unrestrained anger, and Neteyam’s discomfort with pleading eyes as he attempted to mend what he had said, “we probably won’t have to use it on you. You seem to be functioning acutely, responding to verbal and physical commands well, and I haven’t seen any delayed or subsided reactions that could indicate further testing.”

For the most part, Neteyam believed him. There was no reason for Norm to lie about such a thing, especially when Neteyam’s parents were there to keep him in check, but the small possibility of things going wrong, and Neteyam needing more help, warped his mind until it was all he could think about. Quietly, Neteyam asked Norm, “So this should be it?”

“In theory, yes,” he easily agreed, gluing himself to Neteyam’s side with the machine he would use to make the scan. With steady hands, Norm allowed Neteyam to inspect it, enabling him to get familiar with the unusual tool before it was put to use. “We just have to see if it withstands practice.”

“Okay,” Neteyam muttered, not at all sounding reassured, but trusting his parents (and, by extension, Norm) enough to be there for him if something went wrong. 

Not needing anything more to begin the process, Norm pressed a button, suddenly filling the air with a soft whirling noise. The sound made Neteyam stiffen, but he said nothing to indicate wanting to stop, only eyeing Norm closely as he brought the machine down to Neteyam’s body.

Like he said he would, Norm completed a scan of Neteyam’s brain, a picture of it appearing on the screen he had set up, but he also went a step further and did a quick scan of the rest of his body, quietly tucking those away for a later examination since his physical state would have no effect on his neural link to Eywa. The whole process probably took no more than a couple of minutes, but for the entirety of that time, Neteyam had his hands tightly clutched into tight fists, waiting for it all to be over.

When he was done, Norm stepping away and discarding the machine so he could inspect what it had picked up on, Neytiri rushed over to Neteyam’s side, immediately filling the void that he had left and pulling Neteyam into a seated position. Pressing herself into Neteyam’s left, Neytiri refused to budge, making Neteyam lightly wonder if she was trying to comfort him or herself. 

Jake, while he didn’t cling to Neteyam, was just as obvious in his affections, resting a hand on the crown of Neteyam’s head in a silent congratulations for his bravery. And, if Neteyam was to turn his head just so and look out the window, he’d be able to see Mo’at, Kiri, Lo’ak, Tuk, Spider, and a Na’vi he hadn’t been formally introduced to, watching the scene unfold with small smiles on their faces. 

“I can see the issue,” Norm announced to the room after a few long minutes of staring at the screen, pulling up different angles and breaking away at different parts of Neteyam’s brain until he got to the root of the problem. 

“Yeah?” Jake asked for the three of them, a hint of excitement in his voice, even if it was still uneasy, as he stepped away from Neteyam and instead up to Norm. “What is it?”

“His brain’s limbic system has been disrupted,” he explained, his words going through one of Neteyam’s ears and out the other as he switched between Na’vi and Sky People dialect. “Specifically, the hippocampus and thalamus. This disconnect is preventing his brain from processing, consolidating, and retrieving information properly.”

“Meaning?” Jake spluttered, being in a similar position to Neteyam, staring at Norm as if he had grown a second head. 

Norm could only smile at the expression on Jake’s face as he turned to him, at complete ease as he said, “It’s classic amnesia, Jake. Just as you thought it’d be.”

“So?” Neytiri asked, her patience wearing thin now that they were getting so close to achieving what she had been wanting to do for days now. If she had had it her way, there wasn’t a doubt in Neteyam’s mind that this would’ve all been resolved within the first twenty-four hours of the Sullys knowing of his existence. By the looks of it, Neytiri also agreed. “Is he able to connect to the Great Mother?”

“I can’t see any reason as to why he shouldn’t,” Norm confirmed with a quick nod of his head, immediately sending Neytiri to her feet at the news. As soon as those words had been spoken to life, everything was set into motion. 

Tugging Neteyam to his feet, Neytiri began dragging him from the Sky Person facility, leaving Norm and his rambling behind as she made a break for Mo’at. Jake wasn’t too far behind them, only he went towards the unintroduced Na’vi that had been standing with the Sullys while they waited for Neteyam.

Upon closer inspection, Neteyam could tell he was someone of importance. He was dressed in an elaborate, status-signifying ensemble crafted from rainforest materials, letting all know who he was by just a glance. He was the Olo'eyktan. The one who took Jake’s place when they had to leave. 

Neteyam couldn’t hear what Jake was saying to him, but the Na’vi gave him a sharp nod in response, not wasting any time as he quickly turned and disappeared deeper into High Camp. 

Not given any time to ponder, Mo’at was by Neteyam’s side in seconds, Neytiri hastily guiding him towards the Vitraya Ramunong (Tree of Souls), the two of them refusing to let anything slow them down as they moved with an urgency Neteyam hadn’t seen since the Mangkwan had taken him to Bridgehead City. 

As they went, Neteyam passed many unfamiliar faces, though that didn’t stop the onlookers from regarding him with a sense of disbelief. Clearly, his story had become a clan-wide phenomenon, even if the Sullys were no longer part of the Omatikaya. 

It was quite nerve-wracking to pass so many Na’vi that he had once known, their shared history forgotten in the blink of an eye. Perhaps it was even worse that none of them had appeared in any of his visions, not even Mo’at. Neteyam should’ve considered it lucky that so many positive memories had manifested for him, reminding him of who he loved and what he was like before the accident. 

He shouldn’t dwell on it, Neteyam knew that. While it was unfortunate what happened to him, it beats the alternative for how that fateful day might have ended. Instead of waking up with the Mangkwan, an erased past, and a web of lies, Neteyam could be rotting on the sea floor, abandoned and lifeless. He should count his blessings, really. 

At some point, Neteyam transitioned from the rocky surface below his feet to the saddle of his mother’s Ikran, Neytiri refusing to let Neteyam go. Then, after that, when they had touched down in a quiet meadow with towering arches of stone, he felt the soft, dewy grass extending from the ground and brushing against his feet. 

The Vitraya Ramunong (Tree of Souls) was beautiful. It was like nothing Neteyam had seen before– not that he could remember being near anything so spiritually powerful. 

As per his request, Neteyam hadn’t set foot near the Cove of the Ancestors, leaving the underwater spirit tree that the Metkayina housed completely alone. He hadn’t wanted to see it back then, Eywa’s ‘betrayal’ still fresh in his mind and clouding his judgment. 

Neteyam didn’t think he’d be allowed near it anyway. Not when getting him to the Vitraya Ramunong (Tree of Souls) had been such an important mission from Jake and Neytiri. He could still remember their scheming from when he had first woken up in their marui, Tonowari and Ronal carefully adding their insights.

It was odd to think about how much had changed since then; only a little over a week had passed since he had first made contact with them all. And, at the same time, Neteyam realised just how little had changed as he came to a stop in front of the Vitraya Ramunong (Tree of Souls), its power wafting out and blanketing him before he could even make a connection with Eywa. 

There was a twinge of anger in his heart. An ugly, irate, abandoned curl of disgust that he couldn’t seem to get rid of, no matter how much he tried, as he stood before Vitraya Ramunong (Tree of Souls). 

He had been betrayed, after all. Even if it all worked out well in the end, Neteyam had been shipped off, stripped of his memories, and made to fend for himself amongst the worst of the worst. If only the Great Mother had been kinder to him, he could’ve been reunited with his family sooner, avoided the war that stained Awa’atlu’s shores, and been spared from the unspeakable acts he was forced to act out. 

It made him bitter with resentment. It made him want to continue his defiance and not connect to the Vitraya Ramunong (Tree of Souls), leaving the Great Mother without one of her children. That was the punishment she deserved for what she put him through. 

But Neteyam’s parents would never forgive him, no matter how much they’d reassure him that he was free to do as he pleased. He knew, deep down, that they’d never force him to connect. That if he wanted to live the rest of his days without his memories, then that was his choice to make. It would be a slap in the face to them, though.

After all they had done for him, spending countless weeks searching for him, fighting the Mangkwan, infiltrating the RDA, it would be cruel of him to deny them the pleasure of their son back. Something Neteyam didn’t think he could do.

“This is it, oeyä hì'i tsamsiyu (my little warrior),” Neytiri proudly claimed as she kneeled before the Vitraya Ramunong (Tree of Souls), her hands never quite leaving Neteyam. If it had been any other moment, Neteyam would’ve been glowing because of the contact, but right now, he was finding it hard to focus on anything other than his strained relationship with Eywa. “Once you connect, the Great Mother will be able to restore the memories you have forgotten. There will no longer be any confusion or doubt in your mind.”

“Yes,” he agreed, his ears tugging downwards despite himself, as he grew closer to the spirit world, silently fearing what would meet him on the other side. Perhaps he was fearing for nothing. The Great Mother wasn’t cruel, after all. He’d only have to reckon with himself first. Before turning to Mo’at, quietly awaiting her instructions, Neteyam muttered, “Everything will be back to normal.”

A small frown overtook Neytiri’s lips as she caught the sullen hitch to his tone, but she didn’t dare say anything, not when they were moments away from getting everything they had been longing for.

“When you make tsaheylu, kalintu 'evi (sweet child), you must do so gently,” Mo’at began, reaching for one of the glowing vines attached to the Vitraya Ramunong (Tree of Souls) and pulling it towards them. She didn’t let go of the appendage, instead holding it close in a way she could cradle it, as if silently telling Eywa to be kind to him. “It has been a long time since you have connected to the Great Mother through the Vitraya Ramunong (Tree of Souls). It’s likely that it’ll feel like the very first time again.”

“Okay,” Neteyam nodded his head once sharply, soaking in that information to the best of his ability. It couldn’t be too hard to make the connection, right? He had done this before, so Neteyam was more or less banking on muscle memory taking over as he made tsaheylu. A few deep breaths should be enough… hopefully. “I’ll try.”

“Good,” Mo’at whispered, more to herself other than anyone else, as she regarded Neteyam. He wasn’t too sure what the woman was looking for as she inspected him, but whatever it was, it didn’t take long for her to find, since in a matter of seconds, she was handing over the vine to him, making sure he took it with considerate hands. “Now, wait here. I must prepare the clan.”

“The clan?” Neteyam spluttered, his eyes widening slightly as he helplessly watched Mo’at stand from where she had been crouched next to him, her tail swaying almost micheviously as she turned to walk away from him. “What do you mean?” Neteyam had tried to call after her, his head snapping around to follow Mo’at with his gaze, only for his breath to hitch at what he found.

“You are Omatikayan, Neteyam,” Mo’at said without looking behind her, her gaze locked onto the masses of Omatikayan Na’vi that had gathered before the Vitraya Ramunong (Tree of Souls), all sitting patiently as they waited for the ceremony to begin. Among them, Neteyam could see Jake, his siblings, and the man his father had been quietly talking to before they left, sitting at the front of the group, excitement clear on their features. “You were once supposed to be their Olo’eyktan. Of course, they’d want to be here to see and help you return to your full strength.”

“I…” Neteyam tried to answer, his brain going into overdrive as he attempted to figure out what he could say in response to the swarm of Na’vi who had shown up for him. Unfortunately, his mind came up blank, leaving him gaping at the sight as a deep hue of purple flushed his cheeks. 

“Don’t focus on them, oeyä hì'i tsamsiyu (my little warrior),” Neytiri cooed at Neteyam’s stunned frown, gently directing his face until he was once again facing the Vitraya Ramunong (Tree of Souls), though it was impossible for him to ignore what he had seen. “Yes, they are here to aid you, but their presence isn’t meant to interfere with your connection to Eywa. Focus on yourself, and yourself alone.”

“Right… yeah…” Neteyam muttered, a symphony of hymns beginning behind him as he readjusted his grip on the Vitraya Ramunong’s (Tree of Souls’) vine. He could feel the extension of Eywa vibrate under his fingertips, practically calling to him as it begged for him to make tsaheylu. With a self-assured nod that lacked any real confidence, Neteyam said, “I can do that.”

“Good,” Neytiri whispered, remaining close to Neteyam throughout the moment. She felt steady beside him, reminding Neteyam that, just like with the scans, this would all be over soon. With a light squeeze to his shoulder, she ordered, “Because you must make the connection now.”

Taking a deep breath, Neteyam’s body momentarily went into autopilot as his free hand reached over his shoulder for his braid, pulling it forward until the tendrils within it were mere inches away from the bioluminescent appendage. Neteyam hesitated there, though. His body freezing up before tsaheylu could be made. 

This was it, he thought. From this moment onwards, he’d be complete again. He’d have his memories, he’d remember his past, his feelings, his desires in life, and the only thing that could give them to him was the very goddess who took them from him. 

It almost felt like a sick joke at times, but there was nothing Neteyam could do about that. Nothing other than to give in or live his life in the dark.

So, Neteyam took the plunge and made tsaheylu.

Before he could second-guess himself, Neteyam thrust his kuru forward, connecting his tendrils to Eywa and sealing their temporary bond. The world around him quickly faded, glowing a blinding white as the voices of his former clan disappeared, the comforting hold of his mother vanished, and the last grips of his current self were erased.

"Sempu (Daddy), please, tell us again,” a smaller, much younger version of Neteyam begged as he stood before his crouched father, tiny, three-fingered hands slamming against Jake’s knees as he tried to steal the man’s attention away from the wooden Pa’li (Direhorse) toy he had been carving for Lo’ak. “I want to hear the story of Toruk again.”

“I thought I already told you that story this morning,” Jake lightly murmured as he halted his work, setting the blade he had been using down and out of reach of the six and five-year-old he had been left with to look after. 

“I know,” Neteyam prattled, attempting to squeeze his way into Jake’s arms now that his hands were no longer occupied. Catching on easily to his son's intentions, Jake picked Neteyam up before this younger version of him could begin clammouring over his lap, lightly setting him on his hip as he stood to his full height. “But I want to hear it again. Please?”

“Hmm, I don’t know,” Jake lightly mused, not being able to hide his smile as he saw his eldest son’s face morph into a disheartened pout. Casting a glance over at Lo’ak, Jake watched the way his youngest son followed his and Neteyam’s movements, not allowing either of them to wander out of his line of sight. Eyes turning mirthful, Jake gave Neteyam a quick squeeze before propositioning the little boy still on the ground, “What do you think, Lo’ak? Do you want to hear about how your Dad tamed the legendary Toruk?”

“No,” Lo’ak huffed, scrunching his nose and shaking his head as if that had been the worst idea he had heard all day. “It’s boring.”

“What?” Neteyam screeched as he heard those words fall from Lo’ak’s mouth, his face turning aghast as he shot his younger brother a devastated glare. “How can you say that about Toruk? He’s amazing!”

“Well, I don’t want to hear about him again,” Lo’ak gruffly announced, crossing his arms over his chest. Lo’ak had been like this for a while, turning his nose up at the mention of the legendary beast and any other stories Jake had to tell, reducing them to nothing but fairtales that he was far too old to be listening to. 

Neteyam couldn’t understand why Lo’ak would do such a thing, finding the story of Toruk and his Sempu (Daddy) to be one of the greatest he had ever heard, but he certainly wasn’t about to let his younger brother’s new ‘tough guy’ attitude get in the way of his favourite story.

“Ignore him, Sempu (Daddy),” Neteyam escalimed, grasping at Jake’s shoulder to not only pull his father’s attention back to him, but to secure himself in Jake’s hold as he wiggled around slightly, attempting to get comfortable. “I don’t think Toruk’s boring.”

“I know you don’t, Babyboy,” Jake said with a soft smile, running a hand along Neteyam’s back in silent gratitude. Neteyam couldn’t help but lean into it, practically purring at the contact as he was engulfed by his father’s warmth. “But maybe I can tell you two a different story, one that you haven’t heard before and that Lo’ak will like. Say, have I ever told you about when I was chased through the forest by a Palulukan (Thanator)–”

“No!” Neteyam screeched, ignoring the startled widening of Jake’s eyes at his sudden volume and the way Lo’ak let out an annoyed groan at his interruption, for once interested in what Jake was saying. With his tiny hands balled into tight fists, a glare settled its way onto Neteyam’s features, though to Jake it didn’t look like anything more than a soggy pout. “I want to hear about Toruk.”

“Alright, alright,” Jake stressed, although it sounded dangerously like a coo as he attempted to appease this younger version of Neteyam. “I guess I can tell you about my first flight with Toruk… again.”

“Yes,” Neteyam squealed, his face immediately breaking into a beaming grin as he looked up at Jake. Not being able to control himself, Neteyam’s tail excitedly wagged behind him, slapping into Jake a few times as he let his emotions take over. “Tell me!”

“Well, as you already know, me and Bob were patrolling the skies on the lookout for Toruk,” Jake began, dropping his voice into a whisper and crouching low with Neteyam as if Toruk could swoop down at them and plug them from their kelku (home) at any moment. Turning up the theatrics as much as he possibly could, Jake glowed with pride as small bursts of giggles filtered out of Neteyam’s lips at the action. “We had been up there so long that I was beginning to lose hope that we’d ever see him. But then…”

Adjusting his hold on Neteyam, Jake no longer supported the boy at his hip but instead planted both of his hands on his waist, hoisting him up into the air until the kid was dangling above his head. An unesepcated gasp tore itself from Neteyam at the sudden movement, his legs curcling up to his chest as he waited to see what his father would do.

“I saw a streak of orange appear from under the clouds, breezing along as he searched for his next meal,” Jake’s voice spiked quickly, raising it and throwing his words out in quick succession to build suspense. “Taking my position, I prepared to dive with Bob so we could attack from above, having no reason to suspect he’d look up since Toruk thought he was the fattest cat in the sky.”

“What’s a cat?” Lo’ak questioned, Jake and Neteyam’s heads turning to face the boy at his interuption, only to find him watching with wide, curious eyes, his attention stolen as he took in the display. 

“A Palulukantsyìp (little Thanator / on Earth: cat),” Jake kindly replied, sending his youngest a small smile for being able to catch the Sky Person word he had accidentally thrown into the story. It wasn’t often that the Sullys practised English, not necessarily needing to since all the human allies that had stayed behind already knew how to speak Na’vi. But when they did, Jake couldn’t help but blossom with pride as he shared a small part of himself with his children. 

Now, clearly, wasn’t the time to be doing that, though. As with every second Jake spent being too preoccupied with watching Lo’ak quietly repeat the word to himself, Neteyam began to grow restless, wiggling in Jake’s hold from where he was suspended in the air. “What happened next, Sempu (Daddy)?” he called, trying to get the man to focus on what was important once more.

“Right,” Jake chuckled, dragging his eyes away from Lo’ak so he could send a small smile up at Neteyam. Shifting his arms slightly, giving them a little wake-up after being in the same position for so long, Jake prepared for his next little performance. “Then, before Toruk could react, we dived–”

Throwing the two of them forward, Jake jogged around the room while weaving Neteyam through the air in front of him, mimicking the act of flying as he twisted and turned the child. 

“–I had Bob go straight for him before I leapt off his back and landed on Toruk, wrestling with him until I could make tsaheylu,” Jake exclaimed, shaking Neteyam slightly. A squeal of joy came bursting out of the boy as his legs uncurled, his face beaming as he felt a soft breeze hit his face. 

“And then you flew to the Vitraya Ramunong’s (Tree of Souls) so you could make Sa’nu (Mummy) forgive you,” Neteyam finished for Jake, his little hands coming down to clutch on top of Jake’s. “Before you united the clans and saved Pandora!”

“That’s right, Babyboy,” Jake proudly grinned, giving Neteyam one last flurry through the air before gently setting him on the ground next to Lo’ak. For a few seconds, the boy wobbled back and forth, dizzy after being whipped around in the air. Jake set a steadying hand on Neteyam’s side, crouching down so he could quickly act if something happened, though Neteyam didn’t seem very deterred. “You should’ve seen your Sa’nu’s (Mummy’s) face. She was so impressed with Toruk.”

“Will I get to meet Toruk one day?” Neteyam questioned then, almost shy as he stared up at Jake with rounded, golden eyes. 

“Of course you will,” Jake said without a second thought, enjoying every second of the excitement that overtook Neteyam not even a moment later. “When you’re a little bit older, I’ll take you flying with him. And, maybe, we can give him a bath together.”

“Can I do that?” Lo’ak gasped at the idea, saddling in closer to Neteyam to see if he would be granted such a luxury as well. “I want a turn, Sempul (Father).”

“What? No,” Neteyam shouted before Jake could give Lo’ak the good news, another small glare making its way onto Neteyam’s face as he shot Lo’ak an annoyed look. Latching onto Jake’s arm, Neteyam held the man close, disallowing him from even attempting to reach out to Lo’ak. “I want to go again.”

“That’s not fair,” Lo’ak immediately accused, his own face pinching at being denied. “You just went.”

“I don’t care,” Neteyam huffed, his tail giving a quick flick of irritation. When Lo’ak attempted to step forward, ready to shove Neteyam out of the way, the younger version of him quickly bared his non-existent fangs, stating a clear warning to his brother. “You don’t even like Toruk.”

“I think it’s Lo’ak’s turn, Neteyam,” Jake cut in before Lo’ak could retaliate, knowing that his second son was much quicker to start getting physical than Neteyam was. Because for all of Neteyam’s bossy exterior, he would never dare lay a hand on Lo’ak or anyone else in his family, much rather curling into a ball until someone else stepped in. “He’s been patiently waiting for you to be done.”

“But Sempu (Daddy),” Neteyam whined, turning pleading eyes onto Jake in hopes of being able to sway him.

It didn’t. But, once Lo’ak had finished his turn of being swung around the sky as if he were flying Toruk, Jake quickly allowed Neteyam another go, wiping the frown from the little boy’s face without there even being a trace of it to begin with.

Neteyam moved at an incredibly slow pace, keeping his feet light as he weaved his way through the different stations of the hunting grounds, ignoring the Na’vi who sent him questioning glances or attempted to speak to the eight-year-old. 

He had more important things to do, after all. Like making sure his Sa’nu (Mummy) didn’t catch sight of him as he crept up behind her. 

There had been a few close calls, one of which resulted in him diving out of the way and crouching low behind Tarsem and Soewu as one of the elders sat with them and taught them how to make arrows. Neteyam probably should’ve stuck around with them, weapon crafting being an important skill to learn, but Neteyam couldn’t, even if Tarsem practically begged him to. Not when he was on a mission. 

Ever since that slightly embarrassing fumble of almost being caught, Neteyam had made sure to be extra careful as he tracked Neytiri’s footsteps, staying a good distance away in case he had to make a quick escape again, but not too far that he couldn’t see his mother. 

Going over the different things that she had taught them, Neteyam made sure to remember their hunting lessons as he followed after her. He had to stand against the wind so his scent couldn’t be carried towards his prey; he needed to stay low to the grass or trees surrounding him so that he could blend in and take cover with his surroundings; he needed to make sure he was armed with a weapon at all times, the lasso Jake had made him working perfectly for that.

Neteyam was ready to be a hunter; he knew that. He was one of the best his age, picking up the lessons quickly, even if he wasn’t old enough to go on any proper hunts. This would change that, though. If he could sneak up on his Sa’nu (Mummy), one of the most skilled warriors in the Omatikaya clan, that would prove that Neteyam was ready. 

And that was exactly what he was going to do. 

Lowering himself into the tall grass of the Na'rìng forest, Neteyam made sure not to make a sound. Even the slightest hitch of his breath or snap of a twig could alert Neytiri to his presence, and he couldn’t stand for that. 

Shifting forward, Neteyam stalked after his Sa’nu (Mummy) until she came to a slow stop, the ears atop of her head twitching. For the few moments Neytiri was paused in the middle of the forest, the world around them carrying on as if nothing had happened, Neteyam stopped with her, waiting for her to pick up her feet to begin moving again, only for that to never happen.

Instead, Neytiri slowly sat down, making a show of being loud as she pulled a half-finished necklace out from a pouch attached to her hip. There, Neytiri made herself comfortable, uncaring for any of the predators lurking in the forest, as she quickly began getting to work on weaving. 

Neteyam felt his lips pull into a large grin as he noticed the change of events, his tail swishing playfully behind him. 

Allowing for the space between them to settle for a few moments, his Sa’nu (Mummy) getting lost in her task, Neteyam waited for the perfect moment to strike. 

And that moment came when Neytiri had to reach down for her blade to cut some of the extra material of her necklace. With his target thoroughly distracted, Neteyam undid the lasso from his loincloth, making sure his hold on it was correct, just as his Sempu (Daddy) had taught him, before he was sneaking forward.

With each step that Neteyam took, he wasted roughly three seconds trying to make sure it was as quiet as possible, making his journey over to Neytiri a slow one. He didn’t mind, though. Tracking took patience, as did hunting. 

When Neteyam was close enough that he was sure he wouldn’t miss, he raised his lasso into the air and spun it around three times before throwing it forward, the wide circle of it landing over Neytiri’s head and falling until it settled around her waist. With a quick tug, Neteyam tried to tighten it, though he hadn’t quite mastered that aspect of the toy weapon yet. 

“I caught you!” Neteyam squealed, no longer trying to remain hidden as he ran over to Neytiri, the woman doing a good job at acting surprised as she let out a loud, petrified gasp. Practically jumping for joy, Neteyam stood proudly in front of his mother, his chin raised high at the accomplishment. “Did you see that, Sa’nu (Mummy)? I got you.”

“I did, oeyä hì'i tsamsiyu (my little warrior),” Neytiri proudly mused, her tail flickering mischievously behind her as she carefully set down the necklace and returned her blade to its rightful spot. From there, she slowly began to work the lasso off from around her stomach, returning it to Neteyam so he could curl it up. “How did you sneak up on me so well? I didn’t even know you were there.”

“Because I’m an amazing hunter,” he boasted, rocking back and forth on his feet as he breathed that information to life, subtly hoping it would convince Neytiri to take him on a proper hunt. “I’ll be the third best on Eywa'eveng (Pandora).”

“Only the third?” Neytiri’s brow bone pinched at that, confusion consuming her. “Why not the first?”

“Because you and Sempu (Daddy) are the best,” Neteyam easily replied, his shoulders jumping up into a shrug as if that was common knowledge. He didn’t seem to be put off by that fact either, gladly accepting it and how he’d have to settle for always being a place behind his amazing parents. “So I’ll have to come after you two.”

“Hmm,” Neytiri softly hummed, not seeming to like the conclusion Neteyam had come to. As his mother, she wanted him to be extraordinary things, even if that meant he’d surpass her one day. And with something as simple as hunting, Neytiri was sure she could work her magic until Neteyam never missed a shot in his life. “Well, maybe with enough practice, you’ll be better than us.”

“Really?” Neteyam gasped, not believing her but very much liking the sound of that idea. He wanted, after all, to be a warrior just like his parents. Being the best hunter would only make him achieve that sooner. 

“Really,” Neytiri echoed, though her tone had much more certainty than Neteyam’s own. It brought a small, bashful smile to the boy’s face, his excitement growing. “Now, why don’t we get you back to Sempu (Daddy)? I think he’ll be quite worried that you were able to sneak away from him.”

“Okay,” Neteyam said, trying not to let his shoulders sag as he remembered where he was supposed to be instead of chasing after his Sa’nu (Mummy). Sempu (Daddy) definitely wasn’t going to be happy with him. He’d probably fake a heart attack just to scare him, and then ground Neteyam until he was old like Jake. “But only so I can tell him about how I caught you.”

“Of course,” Neytiri cooed, picking her necklace up and tucking it away before standing up and offering a hand to Neteyam. When his much smaller one clasped around hers, a soft smile stretched across her face, golden eyes glimmering at her sweet child. “Now, come, oeyä hì'i tsamsiyu (my little warrior).”

"Come, kalintu 'evi (sweet child),” Mo’at lightly berated a ten-year-old Neteyam as he fell behind, her strides too quick for him to reasonably keep up without breaking into a sprint. Mo’at, unfortunately, had no time to slow down. Or, at least, that’s why she was trying to get Neteyam to believe as they rushed to her healing yurt. “If you want to learn, you must keep up.”

“Sorry, Grandma,” Neteyam apologised in a panted murmur, doing his best to bridge the gap between the two of them.

After begging all morning, Mo’at had finally agreed to take Neteyam under her wing for the day and let him in on some of her duties as Tsahìk. And, while Mo’at loved her grandson and would always be willing to indulge him if she had the time, she wasn’t about to skip an opportunity to turn this into a lesson.

He was, after all, going to be Olo’eyktan one day. He would bear the responsibility of the clan, just as his chosen Tsahìk will, a choice that shouldn’t be taken lightly. 

Most of the elders had a sneaking suspicion that Neteyam would choose Kiri to be his Tsahìk instead of whatever mate he took on, already knowing of his adopted sister’s strong connection to the Great Mother. But, Mo’at wanted him to regard this decision more carefully, especially when Neteyam himself had the chance to forge a strong relationship with Eywa. 

It’s why she was testing him now, making Neteyam dash across High Camp with her to quickly make a liquid remedy for headaches. She had been able to feel the subtle ache coming on for a while now, so what better time than now to set her plan into motion?

Of course, the situation itself didn’t require such dire circumstances, but Mo’at needed to see just how well Neteyam fared under the pressure before she made her own decision, even if he was still quite young.

“Grab me some Cillaphant,” Mo’at demanded as soon as they stepped into her healing yurt, the older woman immediately stepping out of the way so that Neteyam could have access to all of the different supplies in the tent. Moving without a second thought, Mo’at watched as Neteyam darted over to where she kept her Cillaphant, his hands grabbing for the plant quickly. “Good. Now, get me some Fibonacci as well,” she called before Neteyam could make his way back to her.”

As Neteyam raced around the yurt collecting whatever she had shouted out, Mo’at made her way over to a small basket she had tucked away, grabbing a bowl and a rock so that the different plants could be crushed together and later transformed into a tea. 

After a while, Mo’at just began to call out different plants and natural remedies around the yurt, wanting to see how efficient Neteyam could be as he dutifully collected everything that she asked for. By the end of it, Mo’at had an array of items scattered out in front of her, all of which were exactly what she had asked for.

“Very good,” she lightly praised, raising a hand to pet at Neteyam’s braids, the boy instinctively leaning into the contact. Mo’at couldn’t help but smile at the reaction, the small blush growing on Neteyam’s cheeks reminding Mo’at as to why he called him sweet. “I want you to grind the Liana and Mantis Orchid petals together now. Make sure you work carefully.”

“Yes, Grandma,” Neteyam said without complaint, taking the supplies Mo’at had gathered earlier and delicately getting to work.

Keeping a close watch over all of his movements, Mo’at felt a knowing smirk stretch across her lips, proud at how Neteyam moved with precision despite the stress she was attempting to put on him. He was working exceptionally. 

If Mo’at was able to, she’d probably demand Jake relinquish the boy of being Olo’eyktan so she could make him Tsakarem. Unfortunately, she could not make such a decision, only sway Neteyam into taking the position on himself so he could learn more than what was expected of him.

“That is enough, Neteyam,” Mo’at announced, holding up a hand to halt Neteyam’s actions. On command, Neteyam immediately stilled, setting down the equipment that he no longer needed and handing over the bowl of grounded plants to Mo’at. There was no need to inspect the finalised product, Mo’at already knowing they were perfect, but just for Neteyam’s sake, she took a look anyway. 

The young boy held his breath as she did, his tail nervously curling behind him as he waited for her verdict.

“It’s perfect, kalintu 'evi (sweet child),” she stated after a few passing moments, setting the bowl aside to Neteyam’s confusion, his brows pinching at the action. “I couldn’t have done it better myself.”

“Are you not going to make it into a tea, Grandma?” Neteyam hesitantly asked, refusing to accept Mo’at’s kind words if there was still a chance she was suffering from the deadly headache she had claimed to consume her. “Do you want me to do that for you?”

“No, it’s alright,” she mused, pushing the crushed plants further away from the two of them before Neteyam could even attempt to reach for them, his eyes already darting to the supply of fresh water Mo’at kept in case she agreed to his offer. Instead, though, she beckoned Neteyam over, opening her arms to the boy and inviting him in. “I’ll be able to drink it shortly. But first, can you come here?”

“Of course,” Neteyam smiled, shuffling over until he was crouched directly in front of the older woman. 

Despite his growing age, Neteyam had already been big on physical contact, loving it more than anything. Often, Lo’ak would tease him for it, having long since grown out of the phase where he still actively sought out his family’s warmth. 

“Thank you for helping me, kalintu 'evi (sweet child),” Mo’at cooed as she set her hands on Neteyam’s shoulders, brushing his braids away so she could smooth out the skin there. “You know, I wouldn’t mind having you help me more often. I think I could turn you into a fine healer.”

“Really?” Neteyam practically gasped, glowing with pride at the recognition. While being a healer wasn’t at the top of his list of priorities, Neteyam couldn’t help but think the idea was appealing. “I’d love to, Grandma.”

“Perfect,” she mused, reaching a finger up to boop at his nose, the flat surface there scrunching slightly at the contact. “We’ll have to let your Sempu and Sa’nu (Daddy and Mummy) know that the Tsahìk has a new assistant. I think they’ll be very proud.”

Neteyam didn’t say anything in response to that, but by the look on his face, he was more than ready to run off now and get his parents to break the news.

A thirteen-year-old Neteyam followed closely behind Kiri as she led him through the forest by hand, a specific destination in mind that she just had to show Neteyam. 

It had taken a while for the two of them to get there, having to beg their parents to fly them down to the ground so they could do some exploring. Neteyam doubted Jake and Neytiri would’ve let Kiri go by herself, which is partly the reason behind why Neteyam thought he was being dragged along. 

He had a sneaking suspicion that Kiri never intended to bring Neteyam with her, but because she needed someone reliable to go with her, she had somehow roped him into a master plan that had him as the star, wooing their parents with a loving sibling act. And, while Neteyam wasn’t fooled, he was more than willing to play pretend and have Kiri drag him around the forest.

Neteyam wasn’t too worried about any lurking danger either. For one, he had his bow with him, making him the perfect form of protection that Kiri may need. And two, he was pretty sure he’d seen Jake a little while back, watching over them from the skies, making laps with Bob to make sure they were truly safe. 

Kiri clearly hadn’t, though. Tugging on Neteyam’s hand to make him hurry his pace up, she shot the taller boy a soft glare over her shoulder, silently telling him to keep up, otherwise there’d be consequences. 

With a soft chuckle, Neteyam did as he was told, never one to fight with his siblings.

“Where are we going again?” he asked after a couple of minutes of walking, the scenery not changing much as Kiri continued to lead the way to some unknown location. She had been adamant about keeping a secret from Neteyam, but from the way Neytiri had smiled sweetly when she had been told about it, Neteyam knew he’d enjoy it.

“You’ll see in a few minutes,” Kiri groaned, already having answered that exact question not too long ago. 

Neteyam didn’t pay any mind to the slight level of hostility, knowing it was just Kiri’s way of acting. In fact, he even laughed at the other girl’s expense, getting a sharp hiss aimed his way because of the noise. 

True to her word though, it didn’t take much longer for the two of them to arrive at the surprise destination Kiri had in mind. And, when they did, Neteyam felt his breath hitch.

Before them was a raging river that he had not yet been taken to, its bed sitting on the far edges of Omatikayan territory, a place they would’ve never been able to get to so quickly without Jake agreeing to fly them over there on his Ikran. 

The area surrounding the river was calm, almost untouched by the rush of water coursing through it. With tall, billowing trees, soft, tickling grass, and the quiet hum of beetles nearby, it was almost as if it were its own carved-out sanctuary.

A sanctuary that Kiri was fully intending on using, no matter how long it took for Neteyam to breathe it all in.

Plopping herself down, Kiri all but fell back onto the grass, her eyes slipping shut as she relaxed into the space. She listened to all that the nature surrounding her had to offer, soaking it in and translating it into her own hymns. 

Neteyam, while much slower on the uptake, eventually joined Kiri at her side, his wide eyes still blinking in the space. He couldn’t quite get over the way the water crashed into the bordering rocks, or how there was a kaleidoscope filtering in through the leaves of the trees, or how the air was constantly filled by a chorus of songs sung by the wildlife. Occasionally, Neteyam would forget just how beautiful Eywa'eveng (Pandora) was, but it was moments like these, where Kiri dragged him out to the middle of nowhere, that he was reminded.

Taking up the spot next to Kiri, Neteyam mirrored her, letting himself fall back until he was lying flat against the ground. The soft brush of grass sent goosebumps ghosting his navy skin, but Neteyam did nothing to try and ward the feeling off, instead relaxing fully into it.

Allowing his breathing to slow, he embraced everything around him. Enjoying the way his ears twitched every couple of seconds at the rushing water, how his tail flicked as the rays of the sun's warmth shifted across him, and at how his nose scrunched at the different natural scents mingling together, Neteyam was allowed to just exist in Eywa'eveng’s (Pandora’s) atmosphere with his sister beside him and without having to worry about anything else.

And in those moments, Neteyam had never felt more connected. 

Neteyam stood anxiously atop of one of the floating boulders that made up the Hallelujah Mountains, his tail lashing sceptically behind him as Telisi sat not too far away from him. 

It hadn’t been long since he and Telisi made tsaheylu and bonded as part of his Iknimaya. It had been even less time since Neteyam awoke from his Uniltaron (Dream Hunt) and was made an adult to the clan at the ripe age of fourteen years old. But now Lo’ak was following in his footsteps at an age older than him, but not for the same reason.

With the Sky People pushing into Omatikayan territory more and more with every passing day, it was essential that every member of the clan had an Ikran to safely travel between bases, and in the instances that something terrible occurred. This marked a change within the clan. No longer was the bonding of an Ikran seen as a rite of passage, but a necessity for survival. 

So, while Lo’ak may be attempting to bond with an Ikran, he was still a long way off of being considered an adult. 

That wasn’t what Neteyam was worried about, though.

He had made the tretscours journey up to the rookery, had been daring enough to be the first in his group to claim an Ikran, so he knew just how dangerous the task was, especially when to make the bond, the Ikran must attack first. 

It left him a nervous wreck as he waited for his brother to return, his tail flickering wildly behind him as he refused to sit still, pacing back and forth restlessly. Every so often, Neteyam would turn his head towards the rookery, hoping to catch a glance of a successful attempt, only to be met with an empty sky. 

“You must calm yourself, oeyä hì'i tsamsiyu (my little warrior),” Neytiri’s soothing voice filtered through the air, one of her hands reaching out to clasp onto Neteyam’s shoulders, attempting to hold him still for a few moments. It didn’t work much, Neteyam’s gaze wandering every few seconds just for his ears to fall flat when there was no sign of Lo’ak. “Your brother will be fine.”

“I know,” Neteyam sighed, though he didn’t sound convinced. He couldn’t help it, not when his baby brother was going through something so deadly. 

In theory, he knew Lo’ak wouldn’t face any issues. 

After his first attempt had ended poorly, the boy returning without an Ikran, Lo’ak had spent many hours with Jake dedicated to perfecting his approach, making sure there wasn’t any room for failure. 

If he fell, which, Neteyam didn’t think he would (or, at least, hoped that he didn’t), there would be someone on sight to catch him. He believed today it was Tarsem on duty, having completed his Iknimaya a few years prior, and needing the training before he’d be allowed into any ongoing battles. With Tarsem, Neteyam had nothing to worry about. The older boy was responsible, light on his feet, and a quick thinker. If something went wrong, he’d be there…

That didn’t stop Neteyam, though. If anything, it made him worry more. He should’ve been up there with Lo’ak, ready to catch him if he fell. He should’ve been there, guiding him through the motions of bonding with an Ikran. He should’ve been there to witness his first flight. But he wasn’t. Instead, Neteyam was stuck on a floating rock, waiting to hear the news.

If this is how Neteyam feels waiting for his brother to return, he wondered what it must have been like for his parents when he left to complete this aspect of his rites. 

Neither of them had been allowed to accompany him to the rookery, the elders finding it to be an unfair advantage, since they hadn’t been the warriors tasked with training Neteyam. That, and the fact that one of them was Toruk Makto, and the other was previously the Tsakarem of the Omatikaya. 

Neteyam remembers returning to his family with Telisi, his younger siblings excitedly waiting for him, while Jake and Neytiri had been nervously huddled together, whispering words of reassurance so that neither of them collapsed under the stress. At the time, he had thought they were overreacting, attempting to make Neteyam think his accomplishment was far greater than it actually had been. But now… now Neteyam thought he understood where they were coming from.

“Can I go check on him?” Neteyam asked after what felt like an eternity of waiting. It had been hours since the training party had left that morning, and by now, they should’ve easily reached the rookery and taken flight. Neteyam certainly remembers not taking this long when he had done it. “I know it’s not necessarily allowed, but if I just so happen to fly by the rookery and see him–”

“No, Son, you can’t,” Jake cut in before Neteyam could get ahead of himself, spotting the younger boy’s fingers twitching for Telisi before he had even finished spitting out his plan. “You need to remain here until he’s finished. He needs to do this on his own.”

“But what if–” Neteyam had tried. 

“No ‘buts,’ Babyboy,” Jake said with finality, setting a heavy hand on Neteyam’s shoulder to keep him grounded. “You have to be patient.”

“Okay…” he sighed, allowing a dewy frown to set on his lips, and for his ears to dejectedly fold back.

This hadn’t been the first time Neteyam tried to go off to see Lo’ak; it’s why his parents were standing on either side of him. Of course, if anyone asked, they’d just say they were waiting for their son’s return, which, they were. But on a deeper note, it was to make sure Neteyam didn’t try to sneak away and fly by the rookery just as he had just claimed to try to do. 

Unfortunately, he had attempted to do just that the first time Lo’ak had been sent up to the Ikran’s nest, and had been caught before he could even reach Telisi. This time, his parents had been anticipating the move, beating Neteyam to it before he could even think he had escaped them. 

But now it just left him waiting. Waiting to see his brother in one piece again. Waiting to see if he could be overjoyed with Lo’ak’s accomplishment, or have to lend his brother a shoulder to lean on. Waiting to see what would come next. Eywa, he hated waiting. 

It’s not like Lo’ak was doing this to complete his rites of passage. The same rules shouldn’t have to apply since this was being done in a time of war, but for some reason, everyone was treating it as if–

“I see him,” Neteyan gasped, cutting off his previous line of thoughts as his eyes landed on a small blob in the sky. Now, if that was actually Lo’ak, Neteyam couldn’t really tell. They were too far away for anyone to be sure of it. But Neteyam felt something tug inside of him, his heart swelling before his eyes had even landed on the small figure. And that thing, that thing inside of him being tugged in every direction, was telling him that it was Lo’ak. “He did it!”

“Hold on, Neteyam,” Neytiri said, her eyes narrowing as she tried to make out the figure. It was to no luck though, as Neteyam had already begun moving, shaking Jake’s hand off from his shoulder as he broke away over to Telisi. “Neteyam,” Neytiri hissed, “you must wait until Lo’ak gets over here.”

“But it’s him, Sa’nok (Mother),” Neteyam countered, a wide grin stretching across his lips as he easily threw himself into Telisi’s saddle and made tsaheylu. 

Before Neytiri could respond, or Jake could even make out the blob quickly getting closer, Neteyam was already in the air, darting towards Lo’ak in a few flaps of Telisi’s wings. Feeling the wind slap against his face, Neteyam couldn’t help but let out a loud whoop as he neared Lo’ak, his face bright and open as he ventured to meet his brother.

And just like he thought it would be, Neteyam met Lo’ak in the sky, colliding halfway as they danced with one another, joyous laughter falling from their lips as they took in the sight and experience.

Similar to Bob, Lo’ak’s Ikran was a blue colour, its wild eyes darting between Neteyam and Telisi as it got used to the movements, Lo’ak surely feeding the animal calming thoughts and budding memories, cementing them as a friend instead of a foe. 

Seeming to not want to stay stagnant for so long though, Lo’ak took off into a quick dive, throwing him and his Ikran into a quick descent as they plummeted towards the ground. And, never to be the one left behind, Neteyam took after him, Telisi pulsing forward until they were neck and neck, hurtling towards the ground, and having to swerve out of the way to avoid being flattened. 

“I did it, Bro,” Lo’ak called as the two of them began to glide side by side, a beaming grin on his face as he felt the wind in his braids and the slap of chilled air. In the distance, Neteyam could see Jake and Neytiri calling for their own Ikran, ready to chase after them on Bob and Sa’ata so they could enjoy a family flight together, but for now, Neteyam couldn’t look anywhere but at his brother’s proud face. “I got an Ikran this time!”

“I can see that,” Neteyam laughed, silently commanding Telisi to fly over Lo’ak so he could hang upside down for a second and ruffle his braids. “I never doubted you for a second, Mighty Warrior!”

When Tuk was born, Neteyam had barely been nine. 

He had been busy navigating the oncoming threat of Sky People, attempting to keep his current siblings out of harm's way, and already making room for Spider in the family since he never seemed to stay away for too long. And then Tuk had been born, and his dynamic was thrown off. 

He didn’t mind, though. In fact, he welcomed the challenge of having a brand new baby sister, more than ready to share his love with someone new. 

And share it he did, since from the second Neytiri had gone into labour, Neteyam had been patiently waiting by their kelkus (homes) entrance, his tail uncontrollably twitching behind him as he waited for Neytiri’s agonised grunts and Jake’s panicked reassurances to die off. 

Neteyam could’ve been with Norm and his siblings right now, should’ve been, but instead he had insisted on waiting, taking up his dutiful position as a guard by the door (not that anyone would try to break in) while Mo’at assisted Neytiri, and Jake stood around uselessly taking up space. 

It took many excruciating hours for his sister to be born, but when she had, Neteyam had been the first to know. 

Rushing into the tent as soon as he had been called, Neytiri’s voice weak but overflowing with warmth, Neteyam quickly made his way to his mother’s side. With his tail wagging behind him, his ears perked forward, and his eyes wide, anyone would’ve thought Neteyam was more excited than his parents to welcome the baby into the world (which, he might have been). 

At first, Neteyam checked on his mother, ignoring the small bundle in her arms as he prioritised her health. He had grilled both Mo’at and Jake for information, asking an array of questions before he looked at his little sister, despite Neytiri’s insistence of being fine and having Neteyam say a proper hello.

But then the wrapped-up baby had been dumped into Neteyam’s arms, forcing him to acknowledge her presence, as Neytiri allowed Neteyam to hold her.

And that’s when Neteyam first saw her. Tuktirey te Suli Neytiri'ite. 

Neteyam felt his face immediately melted at the sight of her, the rest of his surroundings being forgotten in seconds as he was entranced by Tuk. 

With her large, curious, golden eyes peering up at him unblinkingly, a soft swirl of dark hair sitting on the top of her head, and a haphazard hand being waved around, attempting to latch onto him, Neteyam was breathless as he stared at his baby sister.

“She’s perfect,” he dreamily exhaled, pulling her impossibly closer as he hugged the small girl to his chest. 

And she was; perfect. She was everything Neteyam imagined her to be, both when waiting for a new sibling and now, looking back at her as a baby through these Eywa-gifted visions. And Tuk would continue to be perfect for as long as Neteyam was around to protect her.

Feeling the cold, rocky, hard floor of High Camp dig into his feet as they slapped against the cave system's ground, Neteyam refused to slow down, pushing himself until his lungs burned and his legs ached. 

Behind him, Spider was somewhere in the distance, giving chase with a manic laugh as he tried to catch up to Neteyam. And for all the crap that Neteyam and Lo’ak gave the monkey boy, he was dangerously quick on his feet and swift at moving in between the different Na’vi polluting their space, making the space between them grow smaller and smaller with every second. 

Neteyam couldn’t ever remember how this all began– Well, that was a lie. Current Neteyam, who was looking in on this memory through the eyes of his past self, could, but little, eleven-year-old Neteyam couldn’t, too busy with his giddy laughter and out-of-breath pleas to focus on why the Sky Boy was chasing after him.

“Spider, I’m sorry,” Neteyam squealed over his shoulder, catching sight of the blonde-haired boy as he took a sharp right, hoping to try and throw him off his trail. It wasn’t very effective, nor were his words, as Neteyam was laughing too much for any of them to be taken seriously. “I promise I’ll tell the children to stop throwing berries into your hair.”

“I don’t believe you,” Spider snapped, though he two was laughing, not taking any of the younger boy’s actions seriously. The chase had been going on for a while now, neither of the boys willing to surrender, but by now, Spider was more or less just doing it to play, not often being able to see such a light side to the eldest Sully child. It’s why he couldn’t help but order, “Get back here, Neteyam!” to pull a round of bitten-off laughter from the boy. 

“Never,” Neteyam screeched, ready to make another sharp turn when he felt something latch onto his tail. Trying to take a quick glance over his shoulder to see what it was, Neteyam never got the opportunity to do so as the appendage was suddenly yanked back, Spider’s heels digging into the floor with his grip on Neteyam’s tight, pulling him to a stumbling stop.

Because of the momentum Neteyam had built up though, his body already having geared up to dash around a corner, he wasn’t expecting the sudden change in motion, sending him fumbling over himself with Spider not too far behind, refusing to let go of his advantage over Neteyam, even if it took him down. 

“Whoa,” Spider gasped as he landed on Neteyam’s back, the air being knocked from his lungs. Neteyam was in a similar predicament to the Sky Boy, lying flat on his stomach as a drawn-out groan fell from his lips, body aching from the weight that had been shoved on top of him, and the sudden crash.

Attempting to sit up, Neteyam had to wangle Spider off of him, making a show of not going anywhere since the human didn’t seem to keen on letting go of Neteyam, no matter how bruised he may be because of him.

Checking over his legs, Neteyam couldn’t see anything more than a few scrapes, the skin around them already morphing in colour. Jutting a finger at them, Spider rudely poked at the wounds, drawing a quick hiss from Neteyam. Huffing at Neteyam’s expense, Spider commented, “For a Na’vi, you’re pretty bad at balancing, Neteyam.”

“Hey, not true,” Neteyam quickly argued, a glare tugging at his features as he shot Spider an annoyed look his way. “If you hadn’t grabbed me, I would’ve been fine.”

“Don’t care,” Spider grinned, sticking his tongue out at Neteyam. For a second, it reminded Neteyam of Kiri, the two kids spending so much time around one another that they were starting to pick up on each other’s mannerisms. “You should’ve been able to stick the landing.”

“Oh, yeah?” Neteyam questioned, a sly idea coming to mind. “Well, try and stick this–”

Before Spider could react, Neteyam harshly shoved at the Sky Boy, knocking him off balance and forcing him to release his grip on Neteyam as he fell backwards, landing with a sharp oof. In the time it took for Spider to recover, Neteyam threw himself to his feet, already beginning to scramble away before he could make sense of what had just happened.

“Hey!” Spider cried, irritation and laughter mixing oddly on his tongue. “Get back here. I wasn’t finished with you!”

Neteyam could only laugh at that, throwing his head back as he continued to run, restarting their game of cat and mouse. 

The sun had long since shifted in Awa'atlu, the eclipse consuming the sky and marking the end of the day as the villagers set down to rest. Despite the entirety of Neteyam’s family sleeping soundly around him, all wrapped up in their own hammocks, Neteyam could not find peace so easily. 

After what felt like countless hours of tossing and turning, though Neteyam didn’t suspect his unease lasting more than a couple of minutes, he had migrated from his hammock and towards the small docks connected to his family’s marui. Sitting there with a deep frown etched into his face, his shoulders tugged forward, and his feet lazily kicking back and forth in the ocean, watching as small ripples surrounding his legs and fish swam around his feet, Neteyam waited the night away. 

It wasn’t often that he found himself unable to sleep, his body usually being good to him after a busy day of learning the way of water and helping the bustling village with the many chores he took on. But tonight, Neteyam found it difficult, especially when his mind refused to shut up and kept microanalysing every interaction he had had with Ao’nung that day.

Oh, Ao’nung. The boy Neteyam couldn’t form a solid opinion on, no matter how hard he tried. The boy who was leaving his brother stranded outside of the reef in Pxazang (Akula) infested water one second, and then taking Neteyam for a nice stroll along the beach the next. The boy who made Neteyam’s heart leap with both irritation and infatuation. 

He was infuriating, really. Never leaving Neteyam alone, always offering to help him when he refused to ask, always finding a way for them to be close. If Neteyam didn’t know any better (which, clearly, he didn’t, looking back now), he’d say Ao’nung had a crush on him or something.

But that was stupid, because why, out of all the Na’vi in Awa’atlu, or any of the neighbouring islands, would Ao’nung be interested in him?

With a scoff, Neteyam tried to clear his thoughts, shaking his head down at the water as if that would help rid his mind of Ao’nung. He was being ridiculous. Neteyam was almost 1000% sure that Ao’nung wasn’t wasting his night thinking about him–

“Hey, Neteyam,” the voice of one Aonung te Tsika'u Tonowari'itan teased in a sing-song tone as his head suddenly popped out from the water in front of Neteyam, a smug grin stretching across his lips as he heard a startled gasp fall from Neteyam’s lips, the Omatikayan boy attempting to be considerate of his sleeping family despite being momentarily startled. “Whatcha doing?”

“Ao’nung?” Neteyam gasped once more, horrified as the manifestation of his thoughts appeared directly in front of him. Snapping his head back so he could peer inside his marui, Neteyam’s eyes drifted over the sleeping figures of his family, checking to see if any of them had stirred. When he luckily found none of them had, his head whipped back around to face Ao’nung, confusion twisting its way into a small scowl on his face. “What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you, obviously,” Ao’nung scoffed, though the smirk never fell from his lips. Taking in Neteyam’s slightly frazzled state, Ao’nung swam closer, not stopping until his chin was lightly bumping into Neteyam’s knee, making him freeze on the spot. “The real question is, what are you doing out here? Shouldn’t you be asleep by now?”

“I wasn’t tired,” Neteyam lamely said, his ears folding back to hide the purple flush that was attempting to consume them. “But that doesn’t matter. Ao’nung, you can’t be here. If my parents wake up and see you, they’re going to be pissed.”

“Then let's go somewhere else,” Ao’nung suggested, as if it were as simple as that. Offering his hand to Neteyam, Ao’nung waited for him to take it, ready to help him slip into the water and guide him away.

A bit dumbfounded by the offer, Neteyam couldn’t help but splutter, “What?”

“You heard me,” Ao’nung mused, wiggling his fingers at Neteyam to try and entice him in, wanting nothing more than the boy to take his hand. “Let’s go to the beach. That way, we won’t wake them up.”

“I can’t,” Neteyam whispered in response, his eyes hurriedly looking over his shoulder once more when he heard someone shift in the marui. At his refusal though, Ao’nung’s hand dropped onto Neteyam’s thigh, making his spine straighten due to the unexpected contact. Trying not to let it show that Ao’nung had any sort of effect over him, Neteyam forced out evenly, “If they see me gone, they’ll get mad.”

“You must make up your mind, Forest Boy, because I’m not leaving until you go to sleep,” he began teasing one more, tapping his fingers along Neteyam’s thigh rhythmically as his legs worked tirelessly to keep him afloat. “So, we can either stay here and risk your parents waking up, or we can go to the beach and enjoy the night.”

Neteyam stilled at that, unfortunately weighing out both options in his head, despite knowing that both of them could end terribly for him, and not just because his parents might wake up.

Because, yes, there was a chance that Jake and Neytiri slept soundly through the night, not stirring in the slightest due to Ao’nung’s presence, or the lack of Neteyam’s. There was also the chance that his siblings remained sleeping like the dead, and remained unaware of everything happening around them.

But, things could also go very wrong, very quickly. If they stayed, and his parents woke up, not only would Ao’nung be sent away immediately (with Neteyam probably being forbidden from hanging out with him for a few days), while he got a harsh talking to. And, if they left, and his parent woke up, Neteyam would be in even more trouble for leaving the marui without saying a word. 

In either situation, it was bad. And, in either situation, his siblings would absolutely love every moment of it, not allowing Neteyam to forget about it for as long as he lived. 

If they left though, at least Neteyam wouldn’t have to worry about anyone being awoken by their chatter. But he would have to worry about something else… Neteyam wasn’t exactly ready to trust himself when he was alone with Ao’nung. While he knew he wouldn’t do anything crazy, he couldn’t exactly calm his beating heart on a second’s notice, no matter how many breathing lessons he was given.

“Times ticking, Forest Boy,” Ao’nung mused, the universe playing right into his hand as someone let out a small cough from inside the marui, their body shifting in an attempt to get comfortable once more. “We don’t have all night.”

“Fine,” Neteyam scoffed, latching onto Ao’nung’s hand. “But only for an hour.”

"No promises."

Neteyam broke tsaheylu with the Vitraya Ramunong (Tree of Souls) before he could even realise what he was doing, the world coming back to him in gradual pieces. 

Dropping his kuru, the braid fell over his back limply, resting there for a few seconds until it was ultimately shifted by Neteyam’s movements. Letting go of the bioluminescent appendage attached to the tree with his other hand, that was the only support Neteyam had until he was falling forward, landing harshly on his hands and knees.

“Neteyam?” Neytiri tried to question, not yet daring to touch Neteyam after he had been connected to the Great Mother for so long, but it was plain as day to pick up on the worry in her tone, her anxiety spiking with every second that she went unanswered. 

But Neteyam couldn’t answer her. Not yet. Not when he was taking large, shuddering gasps of air, his chest heaving with the movement, as his eyes widened and filled with a growing dewiness that was threatening to spill over at any second. 

He remembered. 

Neteyam remembered it all. 

Every second, every minute, every hour, every week, every year, he remembered all of it. Every cut, every bruise, every tear, every scream, it had all come back to him. Every laugh, every hug, every moment he spent with his loved ones, it was all inside of him again. 

And Neteyam had been terrible to them. Neteyam had hurt, and screamed, and betrayed his family. He had put them through so much pain, and only now he could remember that. Could remember everything he had lost in those weeks.

“I’m sorry,” Neteyam hiccuped, his bottom lip beginning to tremble as he struggled to get a coherent sentence out. He didn’t bother trying to hide his tears, the droplets falling from his eyes and soaking the grass beneath his hands. “I didn’t mean– I wasn’t trying to– I’m so sorry. Sa’nu (Mummy), Sempu (Daddy), Tsmukans (Brothers) and Tsmukes (Sisters)– I’m sorry–”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Jake cooed, his arms wrapping around Neteyam’s shoulders and pulling him up into a kneeling position. Neteyam wasn’t too sure when he had gotten there. The last he remembered, Jake had been with the rest of the clan, along with his siblings, waiting for this all to be put right. But now he was here, with Neteyam, and Neteyam couldn’t be happier, throwing himself as deep as possible into the man’s arms. “None of that. This wasn’t your fault.”

“But it was,” Neteyam argued, his head shaking rapidly against Jake’s collarbone as his tears soaked Jake’s skin. He didn’t understand how any of his family could just sit there and deny such a thing, not when Neteyam had done nothing but make their life miserable. “I should’ve remembered, or resisted, or– or–”

“It’s fine, Big Bro,” Lo’ak cut in, trying to put a stop to Neteyam’s rambling as he rested a comforting hand on his shoulder, attempting to push his way in beside Neteyam despite there not being enough space for him there. Neteyam didn’t mind the action, pulling Lo’ak in, and neither did Jake, by the looks of it, trying his best to wrap both his arms around his boys. “We don’t blame you for any of it.”

“You should,” Neteyam hiccuped, momentarily pulling his face away from Jake’s neck to send Lo’ak a pathetic, dewy frown, as if that one look, and those two words, would be enough to change his mind. “I was horrible. You should have never have let me do any of that. I–”

“Neteyam, stop,” Neytiri said, asserting herself as Neteyam’s repeated insistence got them nowhere. Turning her son around, Neytiri set a steadying hand on Neteyam’s chest, picking up one of his and placing it directly over her heart so they were matching. In a calming voice, she said, “Breathe with me, please.”

With a rapid nod of his head, Neteyam gave in to her, doing whatever he could to make her happy and make things right. 

For a while, they sat like that, Neteyam struggling to slow his racing heart in an attempt to match the pace that Neytiri set. While he did, the rest of the Sullys slowly clambered up to meet Neteyam. And although Neteyam hadn’t noticed it, Mo’at and Tarsem had quietly ushered the rest of the clan away.

Tuk buried herself into Neteyam’s ride, Jake not allowing her to sit in his lap just yet, but promising she could once Neteyam had regained control over himself. Kiri positioned herself behind Neteyam, settling in next to Jake, as she took a hold of Neteyam’s kuru, running a soothing hand over it after whatever strain he had been under while receiving his memories. Spider sat near Lo’ak, not yet being able to reach out for Neteyam, but his presence being comofrting enough. 

With the love and support of his family on every side of him, it didn’t take Neteyam too long after that to calm himself into a state that didn’t border on hysteria. When that occurred, Neteyam was quick to latch onto Tuk, pulling her towards his chest just so that he had someone to hold onto.

But that was also all the evidence his family needed to set the record straight.

“None of us are mad at you, oeyä hì'i tsamsiyu (my little warrior),” Neytiri began, her hands coming up to cup Neteyam’s face. Neteyam immediately leaned into the contact, soaking up the warmth that she was offering with a wet sniffle. With a sad, comforting smile, she explained, “You were put in a difficult situation where you had no control over your memories, and no understanding of what was happening around you.”

Neteyam tried to shake his head no, ready to deny those claims, when he felt Jake lightly shush him, clinging to him in a similar manner as he was Tuk.

“We should’ve been there for you when you needed us, but we weren’t,” she continued, sending Jake a quick, grateful glance when he was effectively able to keep Neteyam from interutpting her. Fixing her gaze on Neteyam once more, she poured all the regret, love, and pain she had been feeling for the past few weeks into her smile, as she did nothing but cherish the boy in front of her. “And for that, we’ll forever be sorry.”

“But we’re here now, and we don’t ever plan on leaving you alone again, Babyboy,” Jake continued for Neytiri when it was clear she wouldn’t be able to for herself, her eyes welling in a similar manner to Neteyam’s. “You’re going to be so sick of us by the time you’re old. I bet Ao’nung won’t be too happy with us either.”

“Ew, don’t talk about Fishlips right now, Dad,” Lo’ak gagged, not at all taking away from the promise in Jake’s words. A promise he hoped they’d remain true to. “He’s already going to be a nightmare when we get back. I don’t want to think about him now.”

“Don’t be mean, Lo’ak,” Neteyam wetly chuckled, reaching a hand up to shove at his brother’s shoulders. “He’s just being sweet.”

“I know,” Lo’ak sighed, though, for once, there was no hostility behind it. In fact, he was smiling sweetly at Neteyam, grateful for the bond he had somehow been able to find, even if he’d always roll his eyes at it. “Ao’nung’s always been sweet on you.”

At that claim, Neteyam couldn’t help but smile. A ridicously large, gooey smile that had his cheeks flushing and his tail fluttering behind him. At the soft coo that Neytiri let out at his reaction, Neteyam felt his face heating up for an entirely new reason, making him bury his head in Tuk’s braids, a small giggle being pulled from the girl.

Despite that, his lovesick smile never faded. 

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Anyone wanna play minecraft (java)? I've lowkey been craving playing shadowcraft (iykyk)

“I know, Sir,” Neteyam murmured with his head tipped forward, refusing to make eye contact. He knew it was probably disrespectful to do such a thing, his words coming across as insincere, but he couldn’t help it. Not when Jake was staring at him with disappointment clouding his features. “I’m sorry.”

“I know that,” Jake sighed, never once removing his hands from Neteyam as he began to walk Neteyam back to their kelku (home), even if Neteyam’s feet dragged reluctantly against the sand, knowing what was waiting for him. “But it needs to stop happening. I’m not sure if you remember this yet, but you disobeying orders to help others used to be a really big problem back in the forest. Hell, it’s what took you away from us in the first place.”

“I do,” Neteyam muttered, feeling his face pinch at the confession. Despite the clear opportunity to lie, an easy way out presenting itself to Neteyam, the Omatikayan boy couldn’t find it in himself to deceive his father. He had remembered the issue that Jake was referring to. Or, the aftermath of it at least. “Remember, I mean. And I’m sorry for upsetting you, but I’d do it again.”

“And that’s the problem,” Jake said, giving Neteyam’s shoulders a careful squeeze as to not provoke any of the injuries along his arms. “Come, let’s go find your mother so we can figure out what to do with you.”

“Can it wait, please?” Neteyam tried to say, already knowing he’d be rejected by Jake. “I need to find Ao’nung and make sure he’s okay.”

“I’m sure the boy’s fine,” Jake, just as Neteyam had thought, brushed off his concern, not allowing the two of them to slow as he practically dragged Neteyam home. Jake purposely ignored the frown on Neteyam’s face at his careless attitude, refusing to acknowledge it, or the possibility that something may have happened to Ao’nung for his own sake. He could only worry about one kid right now, and Neteyam was injured enough to cover the entire Sully family. “My real concern is you, right now.”

“No, Dad, you don’t get it,” Neteyam tried again, shaking Jake’s hands off of him. Reluctantly, Jake was forced to let go, the movement already putting strain on Neteyam’s wounds. Neteyam didn’t care, though. Couldn’t. Not when Ao’nung was possibly still out there. With a newly acquired hint of desperation to his words, Neteyam begged, “I need to see him. I could’ve hurt him, and I— I just need to make sure nothing happened to him.”

“Later, Neteyam,” Jake sighed, ignoring Neteyam’s attempts to change his mind as he gently took hold of his son again, giving him a light nudge so he’d begin cooperating with him again and start walking alongside him. “He’s fine.”

But he wasn’t. Or, at least, he might not be. There was no way of Jake knowing that, not when he had been too preoccupied with saving Spider from Quaritch to pay any attention to the Metkayina. Neteyam highly doubted that Jake even knew about Ao’nung almost being brought to the ship, Ti’ol’s warning being the only thing that kept the boy away. 

And Neteyam couldn’t let that slide. Not when Ao’nung had tried desperately that first night to reach out to Neteyam, to make him stay and see that Awa’atlu was worth something important to him. Not when Ao’nung had gone out of his way to show Neteyam everything that he had forgotten, bringing him trinkets and showing him places that he would’ve never otherwise have seen. Not when Ao’nung had done the impossible and flown with an already bonded Ikran just so he could save Neteyam.

Not when Ao’nung would fight against whoever opposed him if he were in Neteyam’s position, doing whatever it took to get back to the boy. 

“What are you—?” Jake abruptly said as Neteyam violently thrashed in his hold, ignoring how his body screamed in response to that as Jake’s hands fell away from him. Free now, Neteyam did the only thing he could do in that situation. He bolted. Throwing all caution to the wind, Neteyam broke away from Jake, his confused shouts falling on deaf ears. Besides, if Neteyam was already in trouble, he might as well break a few more rules for someone important. “Neteyam!

Darting through the village, Neteyam didn’t exactly know where his feet were taking him, but he trusted his body enough to know that they wouldn’t fail him now when he needed them most. 

Somewhere behind him, Neteyam was aware of Jake’s attempts to follow after him, but with the growing number of warriors populating the woven pathways, far more than Awa’atlu was used to with neighbouring clans visiting to aid them in the war, it didn’t take long for Neteyam to lose him. And when he did, it was only then that Neteyam slowed his staggered sprint into a laboured stride, beginning to frantically swivel his head from side to side as he weaved his way over woven pathways and through the gathering crowd. 

But with every extra step that he took, every second that passed by without any sightings of his desired Metkayina, every minute that ticked by without a certain someone's laughter filling the air, and every moment that confirmed the absence of his future mate, Neteyam felt the pit in his stomach begin to grow. He could feel it convulsing inside of him until he was consumed entirely by that one deafening thought that something bad might’ve happened to him. That maybe Ao’nung hadn’t made it back. 

Feeling his breath hitch at even the possibility of that, Neteyam’s feet began to move faster.

With the beads and feathers attached to his braids clinking together with the rapidity of his movements, the steady ache of his body turning dull as it was overloaded with something new, and the racing of his heart, Neteyam stopped for no one. 

He moved with a fervour that only someone afraid of losing everything could possess. Because, despite the waves of Na’vi still returning to the village, all looking just as exhausted as the next, there was no sign of Ao’nung. And while Neteyam still had would refuse to give up hope, he could feel his desperation growing until it was overflowing and spilling along the sidewalk. 

This couldn’t be it, could it? Their final moments together resulted in Neteyam sacrificing himself for Ao’nung and shoving him into the ocean, where he should’ve been safest, only for Neteyam to doom him and not realise until after the war had been won.

Neteyam’s promise would’ve meant nothing then. If Ao’nung wasn’t there to also celebrate the peace that came with all their fear, horror, and efforts, then Neteyam didn’t want it. But more importantly, Ao’nung’s promise would’ve been a lie.

Feeling his feet unwilling come to a stop as that thought crossed his mind, Neteyam’s tail wrapped itself around his own thigh, his ears pressing back against his head as he tried to fight off the crestfallen twist his face wanted to laminate itself into. His eyes, despite the unshed tears that were threatening to make an appearance any second now, continued to survey the area. But every Na’vi that walked past, every Metkayina, every boy that wasn’t Ao’nung made his chest ache with something excruciating. 

He tried, he really did, to keep looking, but Neteyam’s feet were glued to the spot where he stood. There was a noticeable tremble to his knees, as well. A quaking that refused to give, no matter how much Neteyam willed himself to come to his senses. It would also be only a matter of time until Neteyam’s damp eyes gave up their search altogether, the Omatikayan boy already feeling them begin to gravitate to the ground so he could hide the guilt that consumed him.

This would, after all, be all his fault. He had somehow ended up at the Mangkwan’s camp when he was injured and losing all of his memories. He had been given the task of killing the Sullys for his Iknimaya. He had been the one to fail, resulting in the Mangkwan coming after him to see what had happened. He had been the one to forsake Awa’atlu with war because of his presence. 

He had done this to Ao’nung; nobody else. And that’s what hit Neteyam the hardest. Because if he hadn’t cursed Ao’nung with his love, then none of this would’ve happened, and Neteyam wouldn’t have to worry whether the boy was alive or not–

“Neteyam,” someone yelled, making Neteyam’s head instantly whip around to face where it had come from because he knew that voice. 

Searching the crowd quickly, Neteyam’s golden eyes jumped over the different Na’vi crowding the space. There were hundreds of injured, all milling together as they attempted to locate a calm spot where they could rest and wait for treatment. He would have to join them soon, Neteyam thought as his body refused to allow him to forget about the damage that had been done to it.

When no sign of the Na’vi who called out his name appeared though, Neteyam almost lost hope, thinking it was nothing more than Eywa playing tricks on him. His nose scrunched at that, the constant tension on his features being the only thing stopping the moisture that had built behind his lashes from slipping out.

But then Neteyam heard it again. And this time, he didn’t allow himself to miss it.

“Ma’Teyam,” the same voice as before called out, pulling Neteyam’s line of sight slightly left as he adjusted to try and find the new position of its owner. This time, however, Neteyam wasn’t forced to rely solely on his hearing, as a ridged arm shot up into the air, frantically waving over at Neteyam as the body it was attached to tried to squeeze its way through the amassing warriors. “Over here, Yawne (Beloved)!”

And there, with his breath wheezing in and out of his chest as he pushed forward, a subtle scowl gracing his features whenever someone didn’t move out of his way fast enough, and his eyes gleaming once they locked onto Neteyam again, was Ao’nung. 

Most of the feathers Neteyam had decorated his hair with had unfortunately been ripped away, the thick currents of the sea unrelenting to the accessories he had been so carefully decorated with. The same could be said for the paint Neteyam had marked Ao’nung up with. While he at least still had the outline of the others' handprint, Ao’nung was left with nothing but a few white streaks dancing lower down his body.

But Neteyam couldn’t care about that. Nor could he give a damn for the way his body screamed at him as soon as he began to move, because that was Ao’nung–his Ao’nung–and the only logical thing his mind could command him to do in a time like this was bolt straight towards him.

So that’s exactly what Neteyam did. He threw all caution to the wind and sprinted straight towards Ao’nung, not caring to be mindful of any of the other Na’vi he shared the woven pathway with as he moved with such fervour, such excitement, such desperation. Refusing to slow down even as Ao’nung neared, Neteyam did nothing but brace himself for impact as he ran into Ao’nung’s open arms, colliding in a twist of bodies as he was immediately swept up into the warmth he thought he had lost.

“Oh, Ma’nung,” Neteyam sighed as he wrapped his arms around Ao’nung’s shoulders and buried his face into the side of the Metkayina’s neck. Sucking in a deep, calming breath, Neteyam finally allowed himself to relax, not worrying about what any of the passersby had to say as he revelled in this moment. “I thought something terrible had happened to you.”

“Of course not,” Ao’nung exhaled in relief, breathing Neteyam in with a protective squeeze before pulling back, his eyes raking over Neteyam as he took the smaller boy in. There was a deep crease of concern making a home for itself in between Ao’nung’s brows as he catalogued each of Neteyam’s injuries, quietly assessing the severity of them. “But Ma’Teyam, look at you. What did they do to you?”

“It’s nothing,” Neteyam quickly uttered, trying to brush away Ao’nung’s concerns so he could bury himself in the Metkayina’s embrace again. “I’m just happy you’re okay.”

But Ao’nung didn’t let that happen. 

“Yawne (Beloved),” Ao’nung murmured in warning, carefully setting his hands on Neteyam’s waist and holding him in place so he didn’t aggravate any of the injuries he had garnered. A small pout settled on Neteyam’s lips at this, wanting nothing more than to just be physically close to Ao’nung, but the Metkayina refused to relent. “We need to get these injuries checked out. They could grow infected if we don’t do anything soon.”

“And we will, but later,” Neteyam said, forcing himself to stand firm and not let a grimace settle onto his face at the pain that reverberated through him for simply existing. Doing that now would only make Ao’nung fret more, and Neteyam couldn’t afford that when there was only one thing he wanted right now. “Please, I just want to be with you for a bit.”

“Ma’Teyam,” Ao’nung sighed, but Neteyam could already see him giving in. The way Ao’nung’s hands curled further around his waist was a clear sign of that, slowly pulling Neteyam in until his head was once again resting against Ao’nung’s chest with a pleased flicker of his tail. “Your parents will skin me if they see me condoning this behaviour.”

“Don’t worry, Dad already has plans to ground me until I’m thirty,” Neteyam breezily muttered, not being able to contain the giggles that filtered out of him or the shiver that ran down his spine as he thought of what waited for him. “Hopefully, he’ll be too preoccupied with me to do anything to you.”

“That doesn’t instil me with the hope that you think it does,” Ao’nung dryly bit out in response, though he couldn’t hide the sliver of amusement that crossed his features as he watched Neteyam’s antics. 

Neteyam couldn’t help but grin up at Ao’nung, planting his chin on the Metkayina’s chest and craning his head back so he could stare up at the boy. The words ‘I know’ were on the tip of his tongue, but he never quite got to say them as someone came crashing into their small bubble. 

“Uhh, I hope I’m not interrupting anything here,” Kiri’s strained voice filtered into both of their ears as she stopped a few feet away from the pair. Her eyes immediately scanned over the state that Neteyam was in, heart dropping slightly as she noticed injury upon injury, but she didn’t say anything. Not when Neteyam seemed to be coping just fine with it all, perhaps even thriving as he remained wrapped up in Ao’nung’s arms. So instead, she stuck with what she had originally sought the pair out to do, and addressed Ao’nung, “But I think there might be someone you’d want to meet, Ao’nung.”

Ao’nung’s face pinched at that, his expression morphing from the relaxed, albeit slightly concerned smile he had worn while holding onto Neteyam, into a deeply confused frown as he took Kiri in. “What?” he muttered, not being able to get a proper reading of the girl’s face. 

But Neteyam did. And when Ao’nung turned to him to try and figure out what was going on and if Neteyam was just as confused as he was, he was met with a beaming smile as Neteyam struggled to contain his excitement. 

It had been a success then. Ronal had given birth. 

The woman had been able to pull through despite her grievances regarding Eywa’s will, and had delivered the baby herself. Just as Neteyam knew she could.

Neteyam’s silence, however, did nothing to help Ao’nung with his own confusion. If anything, it only worsened it as his eyes flickered hurriedly between Neteyam and Kiri, searching for whatever he was missing, only to come up short.

Turning Neteyam around in his arms, Ao’nung couldn’t help but give in and ask the boy in a low voice, “What’s going on?”

“Well, during the war, before I ran into you,” Neteyam couldn’t stop smiling as he spoke, bringing his hands up slowly and wrapping them around Ao’nung’s neck so he could play with his loose curls as he searched every crevice of his brain for a way to break the news to Ao’nung without completely giving away the surprise. “I may have run into your mother, and… she may have hinted that a little certain someone was on their way.”

For a few seconds after he had spoken, all Ao’nung did was stare. It made Neteyam think that perhaps he had been too cautious with the details and left Ao’nung grasping at nothing. But then the cogs inside of his head began to turn, and Neteyam could see with every passing moment that pieces began to slot together more and more until–

“The baby was born?” Ao’nung gasped, his jaw remaining hanging open as he gawked at Neteyam. Witnessing the shock that took over Ao’nung’s face, Neteyam couldn’t help but laugh softly at the expression, his head already nodding in confirmation even as Ao’nung spoke up again, “My mother’s given birth?”

“She’s been moved to her marui by the Olo’eyktan,” Kiri supplied, efficient as always, as she cut straight to the chase, taking the complete opposite approach to the one that Neteyam had. “She’s resting right now, but she’s called for you. Both of you. The Tsahìk wishes for you to meet her.”

“It’s a girl–?” Neteyam couldn’t help but exclaim, only to be cut off midsentence as he felt a sturdy arm wrap itself under his legs, with a second one securing itself around his back. In one quick swoop, Neteyam was effectively plucked from the ground and pressed into Ao’nung’s chest, his own hands scrambling for purchase around Ao’nung’s shoulders. “Whoa!”

“There’s no time to waste, Ma’Teyam,” Ao’nung mused, acting as the closest thing to an apology that Neteyam was going to get for being abruptly swept off his feet. 

Neteyam couldn’t really find it in himself to mind though, not even when Ao’nung started haphazardly running through the village, accidentally jostling his injuries and almost sending the both of them crashing over the side of the woven pathways and into the ocean beneath more than once. But how could he when his love was filled with so much joy and life that Neteyam would’ve given anything to see that smile permanently etched there onto his features?

It didn’t take long for the two of them to make it to the Tsika'u’s family marui with Ao’nung running through the village like a madman, Ao’nung carefully setting Neteyam down once they were stood before the marui's flapping entrance. Taking a quick moment to check Neteyam over, the Omatikayan boy found himself playfully pushing Ao’nung’s hands away and hounding him in through the piece of fabric separating them from his newly born sister. 

Stepping in not even a second after Ao’nung, Neteyam almost collided with the Metkayina’s back as the taller boy came to an abrupt stop, his breath hitching as his eyes settled on whatever was in front of him. 

Now, Neteyam was almost positive he would have the exact same reaction as Ao’nung when he caught sight of whatever it was that was before them, but there was one very tall problem stopping him from doing so: Ao’nung himself. With a few inches of height on Neteyam, shoulders broader than his own, and a face full of nothing but teal skin and curls cascading down his back, Neteyam had been subsequently blocked off from seeing anything within the marui. 

And while Neteyam obviously didn’t mind giving Ao’nung his moment, he wasn’t about to remain behind the boy while he malfunctioned.

Planting a hand carefully on Ao’nung’s back, Neteyam took a step around him, his golden eyes immediately darting around the room as he searched for what had pulled such a reaction out of Ao’nung. Taking less than a second to do so, Neteyam’s focus zeroed in on a small bundle being held securely in Ronal’s hands. 

The baby. Wrapped in what Neteyam could tell was the softest blanket he had ever seen, was Ao’nung’s new baby sister.

Neteyam didn’t dare break the moment, remaining silent by Ao’nung’s side with his hand firmly pressed into the other's back. Even if he wanted to act, Neteyam couldn’t bring himself to, not when he was intruding on a moment that should’ve been strictly reserved for the Tsika'u’s.

But it seemed Neteyam wouldn’t have to, because upon noticing their frozen arrival in the doorway, Ronal beckoned the two of them over with a firm tilt of her head. “This is Pril,” she began, Tsireya repositioning herself next to Tonowari at Ronal’s request so there would be space for Neteyam and Ao’nung. “She is very strong, and it’s thanks to Neteyam that I was able to bring her to you all.”

Feeling his face flush at the acknowledgment, Neteyam wasn’t given a chance to try and hide away or be humble as Ao’nung quickly snapped his head towards him, his lips two seconds away from quivering as he took in Neteyam with glimmering eyes. 

No words were passed between them, but Neteyam didn’t think they needed any to properly express what they were feeling. Not when he could understand every minuscule twitch of Ao’nung’s face with perfect accuracy, and especially not when Ao’nung briefly brought his forehead to Neteyam’s, his eyes slipping shut as they just allowed themselves to exist together for a second. 

When they pulled back, though, Neteyam didn’t allow Ao’nung to stay where he was. Gently taking the other's hand into his own, Neteyam slowly crossed the marui, bringing Ao’nung with him as he stepped up to Ronal’s side. 

“Here,” Ronal began before Ao’nung could even get comfortable at her side, his jaw still dropped as he took in the expense of Pril’s little body. Shifting the baby in her arms, Ronal extended Pril’s hushed form over to Ao’nung, offering her to him with a gentle smile. “You must hold her, ma’itan (my son). It’ll establish your connection as kin.”

“Me?” Ao’nung gapped, his brain staggering two steps behind as he stared at Pril with what could only be described as fear. Still, Ao’nung gingerly took Pril from his mother's hands, cherishing her in his own as he pulled the small bundle towards his chest. 

“Yes, you,” Ronal affectionately huffed, rolling her eyes slightly at her son’s shenanigans, but nonetheless drinking in the sight of him and Pril’s newborn figure with warmth. “If you’ve failed to notice, I don’t have another son. Well, at least not yet.”

Ronal’s eyes washed over Neteyam as she said that, a flicker of mirth lighting behind them as she took in his comforting presence. 

Hooking his chin over Ao’nung’s shoulder, Neteyam peered down at Pril with a bright smile, softly cooing as she blinked curious eyes up at him and Ao’nung. Neteyam didn’t dare touch her, though. With thick blood crusting over his fingertips, some of which didn’t even belong to him, he didn’t want to taint her with the cruel cost of war. Not when she was something so pure and unburdened by life yet. 

That didn’t, however, stop Ao’nung from lightly turning Pril towards him. Holding her between the two of them, Ao’nung tore his eyes away from Pril for only a second so he could cast them over Neteyam’s gushing smile, soaking up his reaction before lightly bumping their shoulders together. 

“Would you like to hold her, Neteyam?” Tonowari’s voice cut through the space, for once not booming with volume as he took in the small exchange shared between the two boys. His offer had Neteyam’s head snapping up to attention, his eyes slightly widening at being even considered for such a thing. A chuckle fell from Tonowari’s lips at the reaction, eyes crinkling as he mused, “It wouldn’t hurt for her to get accustomed to you now, even if you and Ao’nung have not officially bonded yet.”

A high-pitched squeak fell from Neteyam’s lips without consent at the mention of his and Ao’nung’s pending status, his tail arching wildly behind as it swung in embrassment and smacked against Ao’nung’s thighs a few times. For a boy who had so unbashfully claimed he and Ao’nung would be mating with one another in the not-so-distant future, he sure was quick to fluster when someone else brought it up.

But, before Neteyam could lose himself completely to the purple hue that was beginning to coat his cheeks, Ao’nung already sending him an amused smirk as he studied Neteyam’s reaction, he forced himself to get ahold of himself and face Tonowari with a composed smile. 

“Oh, that’s alright, but thank you for the offer,” he politely declined after clearing his throat, making sure there weren’t any further blunders on his part. “I think it’d be best if I didn’t touch her right now. Not until I’ve gotten all of this blood off of me.”

“Hm,” Ronal hummed in acknowledgment, her eyes narrowing in as if for the first time she was taking in Neteyam and the state of him, a sight that was drastically different from when she had seen him last. With little room for defiance, Ronal commanded, “Come here, ‘Eveng (Child). Let me have a look at your wounds.”

“No, it’s okay, Tsahìk,” Neteyam argued anyway, steeling himself as he noticed the one Ronal notched one of her brow muscles up. “You should rest and spend time with your baby. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“Ma’Teyam,” Ao’nung warned one more, frowning deeply as he watched his lover decline the help he so clearly needed.

“I’m fine to wait. There are others in more need of treatment anyway,” Neteyam stated, feeling his lips tug down at the corners in confusion when he saw Ao’nung hand Pril back to Ronal, his focus now slipping entirely to Neteyam. “And besides, I was Tsakarem for the Mangkwan, remember? I’m sure I can handle these cuts by myself.”

“You mustn’t leave it, ‘Eveng (Child). That’ll only make your injuries worse,” Ronal frowned, taking in the exasperation on Ao’nung’s face and easily piecing together that this was a conversation the two future mates had already had with one another. “Please, take some of my supplies and tend to yourself. Ao’nung will make sure you are taken care of.”

“Yes, Tsahìk,” Neteyam sighed, almost dejected by the fact that he was being made to take care of himself properly. “I promise I won’t take too much.”

“Neteyam,” Ao’nung groaned this time, all the pleasentries slipping from his voice as he secured his hand around Neteyam’s wrist and promptly yanked him towards the maruis exit. With quickened steps, Ao’nung didn’t slow once, making his way to the Tsahìk’s healing marui with practised ease as he dragged Neteyam along with him. As they went though, he couldn’t help but hiss under his breath, “You will take as much of her supplies as you need. I don’t care if I have to scour the whole island after to replenish them.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Neteyam huffed, rolling his eyes at Ao’nung’s dramatisation of things. That didn’t go over very well with Ao’nung, though. Turning his sharp and unconvinced eyes onto Neteyam, the Omatikayan boy was made privy to all the concern and stress that was morphing his features, giving Neteyam no other choice than to lie through his teeth in an effort to calm him. “Most of my cuts are shallow, Ma’nung. They look worse than they actually are.”

“Don’t lie to him, Son,” a new voice sounded out from behind the pair as they approached the Tsahìk’s healing marui, making Neteyam’s shoulders instinctively bunch up to his ears as he recognised it instantly. “We all know you don’t have the best track record for sharing vital information about your injuries.”

“Dad,” Neteyam whined, unbashfully as his ears flattened against his head. Shooting a quick glance Ao’nung’s way, it was impossible for Neteyam not to notice the way he had thrown his hands up into the air, exasperated with Neteyam’s self-sacrificial tendencies. “I was trying to make him feel better.”

“I don’t want to feel better, Yawne (Beloved),” Ao’nung bit out, not caring for Jake’s presence in that moment as he cupped Neteyam’s face and forced him to meet his eyes. “I want you to take proper care of yourself.”

“And he will,” Jake cut in, voice carrying with a looming edge of authority as he began to stalk towards the two of them. Setting a heavy hand on the back of Neteyam and Ao’nung’s necks, he couldn’t help but pull them apart before redirecting them and making them move towards the Tsahìk’s tent. “Because he’s not leaving that marui until he’s properly patched up.”

“You two are being ridiculous,” Neteyam scoffed, rolling his eyes as he was forced forward. 

“Neteyam, you collapsed into my arms an hour ago,” Jake dryly responded, not allowing for any of his son's bullshit to resonate with or deter either him or Ao’nung from helping Neteyam out. “Now get in the marui so we can help. Kiri gave me some recommendations for what you may need.”

Ao’nung made no objections to Jake’s demands whatsoever, happily pushing and holding the marui’s curtain out of the way so Jake and, more importantly, Neteyam could walk into the hut without issue. 

Once inside, Jake quickly pushed Neteyam down onto one of the mats that were laid out, sending him a warning look that told him to remain in his seat. Helpless to do anything but obey the man since he began prowling around the marui as if someone had spat in his drink, Neteyam deflated into an annoyed slouch as he watched Jake and Ao’nung shuffle around the room, each picking up different ingredients. 

“Since when did you know anything about healing?” Neteyam almost accusatorily murmured as Ao’nung returned back to his side, beating Jake as the older man continued to look around, not as used to the layout as the hut or what the herbs he was looking for looked like, going off nothing more than a mere description from Kiri. 

“My mother is Tsahìk,” Ao’nung snorted, fixing Neteyam with a teasing grin as if that vital piece of information had somehow escaped his mind. Which, it hadn’t. Neteyam just didn’t know how that translated over to Ao’nung since Tsireya was Ronal’s Tsakarem. “Do you really think she’d be satisfied allowing for me to take a mate if I didn’t know how to properly take care of them?”

“Nobody is taking a mate right now,” Jake quickly barked out as soon as he caught wind of Ao’nung’s words, abandoning his search and making do with whatever he had found to instead saddle up to Neteyam’s side and keep a close eye on the two. “Which, while you’re both here, I think now is more than a perfect time to discuss that little stunt the two of you pulled before the war.”

“Stunt?” Ao’nung carefully said, his face scrunching as he tried to figure out what Jake was referring to. 

“Dad, no,” Neteyam, however, whined at the same time as Ao’nung, not needing even a second to figure out what Jake was referring to, their conversation prior to the war coming to the forefront of his mind. In a desperate plea, Neteyam tried to reason, “Can’t this wait until later?”

“So you two can run away and avoid it? I don’t think so,” Jake scoffed, already having to put up with Neteyam’s quick escape once that day. Placing the herbs he had gathered, Jake offered them to Neteyam, urging his boy to sift through them and try and make use of them for himself while Ao’nung began spreading a premade paste onto a large leaf. “Now, listen carefully, Ao’nung, because I don’t want to have to go over this again in the future.”

“Yes, Sir,” Ao’nung responded, immediately sitting up straighter as he took Jake in with serious eyes.

With a look of great pain taking over his features, Jake carefully cleared his throat before beginning to say, “Just because your courtship is coming up–” 

“What? Dad, stop!” Neteyam blurted, his ears turning purple as he listened to what his father had to say. There was no way Jake was doing this now. Hearing about the ‘ground rules’ that Jake had set for the two of them from Lo’ak had already been embarrassing, but now, having to sit down and witness it was absolutely humiliating as Jake dug into Ao’nung, the boy sitting at attention, almost eager to hear what he had to say. “No courtship gift has been presented yet. There is no need for this.”

“Oh, please,” Jake groaned, scrubbing a hand down his face at Neteyam’s interruption. If someone had told Jake a year ago that Neteyam would be the reason he’d go grey soon, he’d laugh in their face, never expecting his eldest son to fall so deeply for one of Tonowari’s children. But… here they were. “Do you really think that boy doesn’t have something sitting around waiting for you with how much he’s already in love with you?”

Neteyam opened his mouth to rebut Jake’s claim, but caught himself before he could even get a word out. Now that Neteyam really thought about it, Ao’nung probably did have something already made for him. Or, at least, already in the works. This was the same boy, after all, who had surprised Neteyam with a beautiful pearl shawl out of nowhere. 

One look at Ao’nung was also enough to tell Neteyam that the Metkayina definitely had something hidden away that he hadn’t disclosed to Neteyam yet.

So, Neteyam stayed silent.

“Exactly. So please, Babyboy, let me get this out,” Jake sighed, hoping he could finally say his piece without interruption. He highly doubted it would happen, but it was better to make a start now while Neteyam was quiet rather than wait for him to find his wording again. “Where was I?”

“Um, our courtship coming up…” Ao’nung almost timidly responded, acting nothing like the (slightly) cocky boy from ten minutes ago when his own father had brought up their bonding. “...Sir.”

“Right, thank you,” Jake nodded, watching closely as Ao’nung applied the leaf he had been spreading herbs across onto Neteyam’s arm, wrapping the material into place. He only stayed like that for a moment, his eyes picking up every twitch as the two boys touched. But once Ao’nung’s hands moved back to preparing another bandage, Jake said, “Just because your courtship is coming up, it doesn’t mean the two of you can skip tradition.”

“Oh my Eywa,” Neteyam could almost cry as he heard Jake say that, his face growing so hot that he thought it might actually burst into flames. This could not be happening. How on Eywa'eveng (Pandora) was Jake sitting there with a straight face and talking about this? Especially when, from what Neteyam could remember, his and Neytiri’s courtship was nonexistent. “Like you’re one to talk.”

“I’m just going to ignore you if you keep interrupting, Neteyam,” Jake gritted out, barely even sparing Neteyam a glance. “Anyway, as I was saying, or trying to, the two of you need to stick to tradition. I think your mothers would go crazy if they found out the two of you had declared yourselves as mates in the eyes of Eywa with those markings.”

“What do you mean?” Ao’nung asked, face twisted in confusion as he momentarily stilled his work to dart his eyes in between Jake and Neteyam, searching for an answer. “The only marking I wore was Neteyam’s handprint.”

“Oh, Jesus,” Jake almost gasped, the Sky Person word slipping out of him as he regarded the bewilderment on Ao’nung’s features. Shooting Neteyam a drained frown, one of his bushy brows arching upwards, Jake confirmed, “Did you not even tell him what it means, Neteyam?”

“No…” Neteyam whispered after a second or two of silence, his eyes firmly glued to the ground. “But that’s because I wasn’t planning on putting the mark on Ao’nung. Just myself.”

“That’s not any better,” Jake scoffed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he felt a headache coming on. Maybe he should have waited for a better time before cornering the two boys into this conversation. At least he knew now, though, not to mention anything about Neteyam’s punishment for breaking the rules Jake had set for him before the battle. That could wait until they were home and Neytiri had already worn him out with her fretting. With an exhausted wave of his hand towards Ao’nung, Jake tierdly demanded, “Go on. Tell him what it means.”

“Dad, I–” Neteyam tried to refuse, his head already shaking as he instinctively shrank back away from the other two.

But Jake was having none of that. 

“No, tell him,” Jake insisted, reaching a hand out and placing it on Neteyam’s back before forcing him forward slightly. While it put Neteyam and Ao’nung in close proximity, something Jake would never be particularly fond of, it also made sure there was no escape for Neteyam. “You put the marking on him, so you can tell him.”

Thinning his lips together, Neteyam’s eyes timidly flickered up to meet Ao’nung’s, the Metkayina’s confusion shining through as a small frown settled its way onto his features. Neteyam couldn’t really blame Ao’nung for the perplexed look, Jake making it sound like what they had done was a war crime, but it also didn’t make things any easier. 

“Ma’Teyam?” Ao’nung gently whispered, reaching a hand out and gently cupping the side of Neteyam’s face. He didn’t dare pull Neteyam in, the urge to rest their foreheads against one another’s quickly buried as prying eyes stayed glued to them, but the contact was enough. 

With a heavy sigh, Neteyam began:

“The handprints were a signal of ownership,” he swallowed thickly, trying to strategically find the right words so he didn’t have to reapt himself, or have Jake step in, or even scare Ao’nung off. It wasn’t an easy task. Especially not when Neteyam had done the act in hopes of keeping it his little secret. A marking for only him, even if it was displayed for all to see. “By putting your mark on me, I was telling everyone that I belong to you. That I was yours to keep.”

Holding his breath for a second after saying that, Neteyam waited with his eyes tightly snapped shut, waiting for the horror to set in. But nothing came, not even from Jake. 

Peeling his eyes open slowly, Neteyam inspected Ao’nung’s face. Instead of agitation at Neteyam’s confession, as he had been expecting to see, Neteyam came face-to-face with the curious tilt of Ao’nung’s head, his eyes sparkling quietly with amazement as he waited for Neteyam to continue talking. 

“And by asking for my mark in return,” Neteyam started, spurred on by the interest that was rapidly accumulating in Ao’nung. “You were stating the same thing. Only, a matching pair is seen as a confirmed pair of mates in the eyes of Eywa. We may not have bonded by tsaheylu yet, but we were basically telling everyone that we had.”

“Oh,” Ao’nung quietly murmured, his brows no longer creased as his face fell into a pleasant smile.

Shocked by such a simple reaction, Neteyam couldn’t help but stare. His mouth, however, did unfortunately grow dry, not knowing if he should interpret Ao’nung’s single-worded response as a good thing or, despite his smile, a bad thing. “Oh? Neteyam couldn’t help but repeat, hoping it would pull more of an answer out of Ao’nung.

“That’s not so bad,” he shrugged in response, reducing all of Neteyam’s worries to nothing in a matter of seconds. In fact, Ao’nung looked more than pleased with the meaning behind the handprint markings that they had worn. As if to highlight this, he said with a growing smirk, “If anything, I should get you to put your mark on me more often.”

With a furrow of his brow muscles, Neteyam didn’t want to believe what Ao’nung had just said. So, instead, he asked dumbly, “...What?”

“You heard me,” Ao’nung quietly challenged, his eyes quietly falling to the remainder of his hand print before flicking up to Neteyam’s lips as if they were the only ones in the room.

They weren’t. 

“Oh my god,” Jake groaned, burying his head in his hands as he listened to the entire ordeal. None of that was supposed to happen. Much less for him to see it. “The two of you are helpless.”

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I just realised out of the (roughly) 200 times I've used the word 'marui' in this fic, about half of those were spelled incorrectly 🤦‍♀️ wish me luck tracking them all down and correcting them 🥲

Also, the meaning behind the handprints is completely made up. If they have a meaning, idk what it is. I just wanted Neteyam and Ao'nung to mirror Neytiri and Ao'nung.

So, yeah. Neteyam had every right to be absolutely terrified of what was waiting for him on the other side of all of this. But instead of looking his fear in the eye and allowing it to consume him, Neteyam made peace with it. Whatever happens, happens. Neteyam wasn’t worried about whatever outcome met him when this was all done, because he knew that no matter what, Sullys stick together. 

If things went wrong, not that Neteyam believed they would, his family would come after him. And just like each time before, they wouldn’t stop until he was safely returned back into their arms. Neteyam knew that, and he would do the exact same thing for each of them.

That, and the fact that Neteyam was currently sitting perched on a floating mountain next to the head of Toruk. 

He was, after all, an apex predator that obliterated the Sky People in the First Pandoran War. Toruk was literally known as a living legend, with barely anyone being successful in their attempts to tame the winged beast. 

If anything, having such a ferocious creature mere inches away from Neteyam’s face was doing wonders for regulating his emotions and keeping his nerves at bay. Toruk’s presence alone was enough to make the oncoming war seem slightly less intimidating than it actually was. 

Maybe Neteyam had lied before then. He was anxious about what was coming, but it was difficult for him to let those worries linger when he had a network of support backing him up and a war hero next to him who had come to fight by his side. And it was even harder to pay those dilemmas any mind when Neteyam had been wishing for a moment like this ever since he was a child, still young with dreams of fighting forces greater than he could imagine. 

Even if Neteyam had long outgrown those dreams, at least his younger self would be pleased with the adventures he’s gone on. After all, it wasn’t common that a Na’vi could claim they faced death and survived. The bullet wound on his chest was a haunting reminder of that, the skin there turning a silvery blue as it healed. And now he would fight in a war alongside Toruk.

Toruk, whose flaming orange skin matched the array of feathers Neteyam had woven into his hair. Toruk, who housed an air of primitive superiority from years of battle. Toruk, who looked as if he were itching for a fight. Ready to witness the Sky People’s blood spill. 

Toruk, whom Neteyam couldn’t take his eyes off of.

How could he when Toruk was such a magnificent animal? If Neteyam even dared to pull his eyes away while the tides were peaceful, he would’ve considered it blasphemy. But because of that, it left Neteyam staring at the aerial predator in awe. Pining over the overgrown yayo (bird) like a lovesick idiot. 

“You can pet him, you know,” Jake gruffly mused, his eyes constantly gravitating between Neteyam, the calm waters below, and Neytiri as they waited for the RDA’s arrival. Although there was a constant line of concern etched into his father’s face, he tried to look encouraging as he willed Toruk to lean his head even closer to Neteyam, even if he was failing tremendously at it. Neteyam couldn’t blame Jake for that, though. Not when he had been the only one of his siblings to step foot on the battlefield and ignore his family’s request to go somewhere safe and hide. “He won’t bite. Or at least he shouldn’t.”

“Really?” Neteyam almost gasped, his hand instinctively reaching out for Toruk before hesitating, his limb freezing midair. Neteyam could see the way Toruk tracked the movement. His amber eyes washed over Neteyam, assessing him to figure out if he was a threat or not. Neteyam couldn’t help but bite his lip at the sight, trying to suppress a smile. “Are you sure he’s okay with it?”

“He’ll be fine, Son,” Jake said, rolling his eyes with a hint of amusement glossing his irises. If anything, Toruk also wanted Neteyam to reach out and finally run his fingers against his rough skin, even if it were only to appease Jake. “He’s gone through worse things than an overexcited teenager wanting to scratch his chin.”

“Okay,” Neteyam shyly whispered, giddily reaching a hand out and finally making contact with the beast.

As soon as the palm of Neteyam’s hand brushed against the tough, leathery skin of Toruk, he felt himself almost combust. It wasn’t some extraordinary thing, at least not visibly. But to Neteyam, it was more than enough. 

Feeling his face twitch into a grin larger than what should’ve been allowed, Neteyam tried to quash the elated laugh that threatened to push past his lips. His fingers diligently curved across the protruding ridges of the beast's face, brushing along the swirling patterns that decorated Toruk’s skin. The way he was interacting with Toruk wasn’t unlike how Neteyam treated Telisi, a delicate care hiding beneath each of his actions as he moved with rapturous zeal. 

Neteyam would say the moment was almost perfect, being exactly what he had dreamed of as a child, if only there weren’t at least a thousand other Ikran riders surrounding him, all waiting for Jake’s command to fly into battle once the Sky People arrived. They stood as a steady reminder, though. Disallowing Neteyam from getting too lost in the moment. 

He couldn’t win it all, he guessed.

At least for now, though, he’d have this. A small moment tucked away with his father, Toruk, and Telisi, that was the calm before the storm. Something he could enjoy before it all went wrong.

And as Toruk leaned slightly into his hand, tilting his orange snout so that Neteyam’s hands would brush more firmly against him, Neteyam couldn’t help but marvel in it. Uncaring for some of the envious looks that were sent his way by other Na’vi as they two wanted the chance to get close to the myth himself.

But, something they all failed to realise as they witnessed Neteyam canoodle with Toruk, was that they were spared from having to deal with the overbearing concern of their father, even as they prepared for war. So, in the true Jake Sully way of doing things, he stressed about every imaginable thing all at once. And because of that, Neteyam could never really know peace.

“I only want you engaging with enemies from a distance while you’re out there, Son,” Jake began, using his and Neteyam’s close proximity to mutter some final words of wisdom before they inevitably got separated within the chaos. “If you can help it, I don’t want you getting too close to any of the RDA or Mangkwan if they make an appearance. You use that bow of yours and remain as aerial support. I'd better not turn around at any point and find you involved in any direct combat, you hear me?”

“I know, Sir,” Neteyam said with a small sigh, rolling his eyes before he could stop himself. He didn’t mean to be disrespectful, but this conversation was growing repetitive. Especially after he’s already had it with Ao’nung on numerous occasions. Neteyam knew what he was doing. He didn’t need to be told otherwise. Grumbling, he huffed, “We already went over this earlier.”

“Still,” Jake gruffly said, not allowing Neteyam to try to wiggle his way out of this as he normally did when a topic of conversation that he wasn’t particularly fond of arose. “I can’t help but think you need a reminder.”

Neteyam strode through the village with his head held high, moving with a semblance of control despite the final conch alarm ringing through the air, warriors gathering and huddling together as they listened to the final orders given out by Toruk Makto. He didn’t bother sparing any of them a glance, though. Not when his sights were already set on where his father stood tall at the front of the group, looking slightly worse for wear as the arrival of war closed in on them. 

But, as Neteyam moved, the feathers ruffling in his hair as a light breeze caught them, a perfectly drawn out pattern of white, green and yellow paint that practically glowed against his navy skin, and the stolen Mangkwan diadem, which formally marked his position as Tsakarem, sitting against his forehead, one thing was made clear.

Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk'itan was ready for war.

And, trailing slightly behind the Omatikayan boy as he firmly clasped onto a Metkayina’s hand, was Neteyam’s better half.

Looking just as prepared for battle as his future mate, Ao’nung contrasted the stark ferocity of Neteyam’s sharpened edges as he adorned his soft curls and finned frame with Omatikayan traditions. And while he seemed to be quite lost, not completely sure where he stood in the mess, Ao’nung seemed extremely pleased to have ended up where he had: glued to Neteyam’s side as his lover all but paraded him forward.

As they approached the tense atmosphere, Jake’s previously barked out commands being converted by Tonowari to be more applicable to the waters as he took charge of the Reef clans, Neteyam refused to waver. Not when a handful of eyes from the throng of Na’vi gathered before the clan leaders darted to him as he took his place next to his father. And especially not when Jake’s own mystified gaze settled on Neteyam, taking in his presence and battle attire with a growing look of horror.

“Absolutely not,” Jake almost growled as he turned away from the gathered warriors and focused all of his attention on his son, a hand shooting out to grasp tightly at Neteyam’s forearm with the intention of yanking the boy away from the scene. “You’re not fighting in this war. Go find your siblings and wait with the children where you’ll be safe.”

“No, Dad, I–” Neteyam was hardly able to get two words out as Jake began forcibly dragging him away, not caring for the sight the two of them made.

“We’re not doing this now, Boy,” Jake hissed, his eyes darting across the woven walkways of Awa’atlu as he assessed the quickest way of getting Neteyam out of there and to the safety of the cave system that the rest of the children had been left to harbour in. “I’m not going to let you just stomp your feet and pout in hopes of getting your way. This is war, for crying out loud. You need to go somewhere safe.”

“I’m a warrior like you, Dad,” Neteyam tried despite the waves of anger and annoyance he could sense wafting off of Jake. Digging his heels into the ground, Neteyam’s hands collided with Jake’s back, momentarily throwing him off balance as Neteyam used the force with which Jake was moving to shove him away. With a fierce glare, Neteyam concluded, “I’m supposed to fight.”

“And I’m sure you remember just how well that ended last time,” Jake’s teeth grit together as he all but spat out the comment, making Neteyam flinch as a hand instinctively came up to the bullet wound that was still healing on his chest. Jake’s nostrils flared at the action, regret flashing across his features, but he refused to back down. “If not, I’m sure Ao’nung would be more than happy to remind you.”

“Don’t treat him like that,” Neteyam scowled, his ears flattening against his head at the mere mention of his soon-to-be mate being spoken about with ill intent. Neteyam could handle Jake lashing out at him, but he wouldn’t stand for Ao’nung receiving that treatment.

“I’m not doing anything to him,” Jake almost laughed, the noise cruel as it grated through the air. Neteyam hated it, never wanting to hear such a vicious sound from his father again, even if he had been the one to bring it on and push Jake to the brink of hysteria. “It’s you who is hellbent on reminding everyone of just how close we came to losing you. Sue me for not wanting to let that happen again”

“Well–” Neteyam huffed, fumbling over his words before finally declaring, exasperated, “–I don’t care!” The confession had Jake reeling back as if he had been hit again, the man physically having to take a step back as his face contorted with an indescribable mixture of pain and ire. “This is just as much my fight as it is anyone else's. I initially brought the Mangkwan to Awa’atlu, that’s why the RDA found you. Whatever happens here today, I will shoulder the blame for it. So I might as well fight alongside the Na’vi brave enough to aid us so that I can honour them.”

“You’re a child, Neteyam,” Jake shouted, his face crumbling as soon as the words left his mouth. Trying to keep his shoulders from hunching up to his ears and shaking, Jake reached a hand out to Neteyam, this time much gentler compared to when he had previously grabbed at Neteyam’s arm. Jake didn’t try to pull Neteyam in for a hug, or try to push him away from the oncoming battle, or try to belittle Neteyam in any further way. He just held him at arm’s length. He just soaked him in. And then, in a small, barely there voice that Neteyam almost missed over the war cries of the Metkayina as Tonowari rallied them up, Jake whispered, “No one blames you for what happened.”

And, after hearing those words and seeing his father finally break, Neteyam looked at this situation through the eyes of someone who wasn’t himself. And for the first time, Neteyam seemed to realise just what his actions did to those around him. He realised just how much damage he had done while trying to set things right. 

But he couldn’t let up. Not when the Mangkwan were coming for him, and he had the ability to fight. Had the ability to stop this. 

“I do,” Neteyam breathed just as quietly as Jake had, though he seemed ten times smaller as the words fell from his lips. “And I’m going to fight in this war. Whether you like it or not, I will find a way. You might as well accept that now, so I can hear the plan instead of making up my own one.”

“Neteyam–” Jake sighed, already shaking his head.

“No, Dad,” Neteyam interrupted, his face twisting with an invisible pain as he felt everything he had come to know be ripped away from him. Clasping his own hand over Jake’s, Neteyam pulled it towards his chest, practically hugging the man’s arm as he pleaded. “I’m doing this. I promise that I’ll come back after this safe and in one piece, but you have to let me do this.” 

Feeling his lip begin to tremble, Neteyam quickly bit down on it, almost drawing blood. He didn’t care, though. Couldn’t care. Not now, at least. The Metkayina and other reef Na’vi were leaving, moving to their places hidden beneath overhanging cliffs and boulders. Soon, the clans with airborn mounts would also take to the skies and secure themselves somewhere they’d be undetected by the oncoming Sky People. 

Neteyam had to act now if he didn’t want to get left behind. He had to convince Jake now if he wanted the chance to spare some final words with Ao’nung before they parted for Eywa knows how long. 

“Please,” Neteyam all but begged, ready to drop down on his knees before Toruk Makto if that’s what it took. “Let me do this.”

Jake paled, the colour physically draining from his face as he witnessed Neteyam grovel. This shouldn’t be happening. He doesn’t exactly know where he went wrong, but Jake knows he should’ve never had one of his kids, especially Neteyam, begging to join the fight when all he had ever wanted to do was keep them safe from it.

Perhaps it was a cruel joke from Eywa for all the times he had forced his eldest son to grow up quicker than what was warranted, forcing him into the role of a warrior before he had even finished growing. He should’ve cherished the days of Neteyam’s childish shenanigans more deeply, because now all Jake was faced with was the determination of a boy who had seen horrors beyond his years. Who had lived them. 

Neytiri was going to kill him when she found out what Jake was agreeing to. But as he stared at Neteyam’s insistent eyes, a new sheen of wetness coated them as he seemed to think his efforts were failing him, Jake couldn’t help but give in.

“Alright,” he muttered with a great deal of strength, his voice almost failing him for a second time as the weight of what he had just allowed his son to do settled on his shoulders. Letting out a shuddering breath, Jake struggled to not regret the decision, a familiar sense of loss already making a home for itself in his chest. “But only as a spotter. If you have to engage, you do it from a distance. I'd better not see you anywhere near those rogues or aircrafts, you copy?”

“Yes, Sir,” Neteyam agreed without a second thought, his shoulders sagging in relief at Jake’s approval. Neteyam hadn’t been lying when he said he’d find a way to fight in this war with or without Jake’s blessing, but he had been hoping it wouldn’t come to that. And he made that known as he brought Jake’s hand up to his forehead, almost as if he was uttering a prayer as he said, “Thank you, Dad. I promise I’ll be good.”

“I know you will be,” Jake almost cried, adjusting his hold so he could instead pull Neteyam in to a hug instead of having the boy practically worshipping him. 

Neteyam immediately grounded himself in his father's hold at the change, shoving himself as close as he could reasonably get. It seemed that physical closeness between the two of them had become a much more regular occurrence, not that Neteyam minded. In fact, he preferred it; not having to wear himself thin in front of his father in order to be considered perfect so he could receive some praise.

He guessed getting shot, washing up at an estranged Na’vi clan, losing all of his memories, and trying to kill his forgotten family just had that type of effect on people. 

Or at least on Jake. 

And maybe the rest of his family as well, since they seemed to not be able to let Neteyam out of their sight either now.

But as much as Jake wanted to, he didn’t allow the two of them to stay there for long though. They had a war to fight in after all. It wouldn’t be very forthcoming if their leader missed half of the battle because he was too busy dotting over his child, even if Jake didn’t mind the sound of that.

Giving Neteyam a final squeeze, Jake slowly pulls the boy away from his chest, fixing him with a distraught, but proud, once-over. His son really had turned into something extraordinary. He’d have to be sure to tell him that once they returned. But for now, an encouraging smile would have to do as Jake slowly turned his head to the awaiting gathering of Na’vi, all of whom were waiting for Jake to lead them into the Second Pandoran War.

Among those Na’vi, though, unsurprisingly to Jake and anyone else who had come to know the Metkayina heir, was Ao’nung staring after Neteyam with an anxious frown, his gaze occasionally flickering to the dwindling number of reef Na’vi as they mounted their Tsurak’s and positioned themselves for battle.

“Okay, let’s get over there,” Jake huffed in amusement at the sight of Ao’nung, quickly turning his attention back to Neteyam as he straightened up and got ready to make his leave. Before he could turn though, Jake couldn’t stop himself from letting out a gentle tease, “It looks like someone’s waiting for you.”

Without even needing to look, Neteyam’s face broke out into a beaming grin. He had been hoping he’d be able to catch Ao’nung, but just as he had begun to do with Jake, he had felt his hope of doing so dwindle away with every passing second. But now he still had a chance. And as he turned to find Ao’nung among the crowd, his face practically lit up at the sight of him.

Ao’nung didn’t fare much better either, because as soon as he had Neteyam’s attention on him again, his shoulders sagged in relief, the tension that had been eating away at him melting into nothingness. 

“Oh, and one more thing,” Jake had started to say as soon as Neteyam made his first move to go over and greet the Metkayina. Planting a heavy hand on Neteyam’s shoulder, keeping him secured to that one spot, Jake spun his son around and pointed an accusing finger at the white handprint that had been plastered on his chest, the paint dried and standing out like a beacon on his dark skin. “Don’t think I missed this. We’ll definitely be talking about this little display once the war is over.”

“I’ll be fine, Dad. I already said I won’t engage in any close combat,” Neteyam huffs, fighting the urge to roll his eyes once more. To stop himself from doing just that, Neteyam locked his eyes on Toruk as he continued to graze his fingers along the beast's orange skin, acting as a momentary distraction. “Besides, I’ve been on missions with the Mangkwan since getting my wound. I know what I’m doing. I was there during the attack on the Tlalim, remember?”

“Don’t remind me,” Jake let out a stunted groan, scrubbing a hand down his face at the mention of the fallen clan and the disaster that surrounded their departure. It wasn’t exactly a good thing that Neteyam was somehow involved in all of that, especially when the Tlalim were nomadic sky-farers who visited all of the clans.

At the very least, Jake knew Neteyam had no part in any of the Wind Trader’s deaths. Other than Lyle Wainfleet, no one suffered at the hands of his son. It was almost admirable that, despite being wrapped up in the Mangkwan’s world, Neteyam still clung to his original morals and refused to bring harm to any Na’vi unless strictly needed. Unfortunately, that would change today, though. 

“But I’m glad you were actually listening to my instructions instead of planning to run off and do your own thing,” Jake continued after a belated moment, his face growing stiff as he took Neteyam in. 

The sudden silence caught Neteyam’s attention, the minor vexation that had been curling in his stomach immediately dwindling as he turned to set his gaze on his father. There, strewn across his face for all to see, was undeniable turmoil that clashed with the assured facade that Jake was attempting to put on. The sight of it made Neteyam’s heart sink, knowing that he was the reason why that expression was morphing Jake’s tired features into something drained and scared. 

“Dad?” Neteyam tersely questioned, his brow muscles swooping in concern as he attempted to creep closer to the man; a difficult feat when on Ikran back and dangling from a floating boulder. 

“I just can’t lose you again,” Jake supplies without much prompting, his voice wobbling as he almost lets the mask he had expertly put on slip. With hollowed eyes, Jake feasts upon the sight of Neteyam, drinking him in for everything that he was worth. “And at least if you’re following orders, there’s a chance that won’t happen.”

Neteyam’s hand stilled upon Toruk’s smooth skin at the confession, all the air inside of his lungs being sucked out as if he had just been punched. Jake’s words shouldn’t have come as a surprise to him, not when Neteyam had been hearing nothing but those same few words over and over again, each time only being slightly rephrased. But it did affect him. No amount of repetition would ever seem to make the weight they carried seem any lighter.

Nothing was going to happen to himself, Neteyam vowed. Jake and Neytiri wouldn’t lose their eldest son. Lo’ak, Kiri, and Tuk weren’t going to lose their brother. Ao’nung wasn’t going to lose his future mate. Spider, Rotxo, and Tsireya weren’t going to lose their friend. He’d make sure of it. 

Jake’s words were the wakeup call that Neteyam finally needed to realise just how grave a situation he was in. Not for his sake, though. But for others.

Feeling his nerves suddenly come to life where before they had lain dormant, Neteyam’s body grew rigid as he drew himself away from Toruk and situated himself more firmly on Telisi’s back. He could feel it all now. The nerves that had been swimming through Ao’nung’s veins, the dread that had been curling in his father’s mind, and the anger that was lighting ablaze at the tips of Varang’s fingers. 

Neteyam hadn’t been immune to the war that was coming; hadn’t been immune to the fear that swept through Awa’atlu and clung to the warriors that gathered there. He just hadn’t had someone to wake that nestling terror in him yet. But now he was in the heart of it, and there was no time to worry about the minuscule details of what came after.

He just had to get through it. That way, he could make good on all the promises he had made and not break the thinly veiled trust that had been put in him. Neteyam just had to survive. 

Steeling the nerves that were only now making an appearance, Neteyam focused on the water below him. It wasn’t difficult to notice the slowly approaching poaching boats as they heedfully sailed their way towards Awa’atlu’s bay, their numbers far greater than any attack Neteyam had seen before. Despite that, no one moved. Not even an inch. No one dared to when Toruk Makto had yet to give them a signal, waiting for some invisible sign to give him the go-ahead. 

Neteyam bit at his bottom lip in his own poorly concealed hesitancy, eyes flickering between the Sky People and his father as their approach only grew nearer. When an answering glance wasn’t shot his way, his father too preoccupied with making sure he didn’t miss the fortuitous opportunity being put before him, Neteyam was forced to sit in his own uncertainty.

But then, just for a second, a quiet voice in the back of Neteyam’s mind told him to disobey Toruk Makto’s orders. It sank its teeth into his fear and whispered about how he should fly down and lead the charge if Jake wouldn’t do it himself.

Jolting as the thought crossed his mind, Neteyam quickly reined himself in, not allowing for that absurd idea to transform into anything other than that. Looking around himself sceptically, as if he would be caught for thinking such a thing, Neteyam felt himself relax slightly (or relax as much as he could in a situation like this) when the Na’vi around him didn’t pay him any mind.

Unfortunately for Neteyam, though, it wasn’t as easy as he thought it’d be to banish such an idea. Not when he hadn’t failed to notice the lack of the Mangkwan, a luxury that he was certain wouldn’t last very long. If they wanted a fighting chance, they’d need to move quickly, lest they wanted the tides to turn and for Eywa to damn the rest of them. 

It seemed, however, that Neteyam wouldn’t have to make a decision after all. Since just as he was about to reposition himself on Telisi’s back, ready to throw all caution to the wind, a tremendous mass of life came leaping out of the water, scaling higher than the Sky Person ship that sat before it as it came slamming down. Debris began to break off the boat as the animal flailed around on its deck, purposely ramming its giant head crests into whatever it could make contact with. 

A startled gasp tore itself from Neteyam’s lips as he sat there in awe, his eyes widening at the display as he refused to look anywhere but the mighty creature.

A Tulkun. 

Neteyam had yet to see one (well, had yet to remember seeing one), but upon witnessing the mere sight of the aquatic animal breaching the surface of the ocean, he knew that was exactly what it was. 

The Tulkun wasn’t alone, either. Because as soon as the first one sank back beneath the stirring waves, a pod of Tulkun, all ranging in size, lept from the water and began to follow in its lead, crashing down on the Sky People’s ships with as much might as they could muster. 

“Now,” Jake shouted, his fingers perched on the communication device wrapped around his neck, replaying his words to all who had been adorned with the Sky People’s technology. Throwing himself and Toruk forward, Jake was the first to leave their floating perch, an army of Ikran following after him as battle cries were cheered into the air and a blaze of colour took to the skies.

Neteyam didn’t even think before commanding Telisi to follow after their comrades, her green wings stretching out as she hurled herself forward and stayed tightly situated within the pack. Allowing Telisi control to guide them through the flurry of Ikran as they rained down, Neteyam’s eyes flickered up to the swarm of aircrafts heading their way, his golden irises soaking up the sheer amount of destruction that the Sky People wanted to bring.

“Okay, Telisi, this is what we’re going to do,” Neteyam breathily said, his words cutting in and out as he tried to swallow his alarm. Unhooking his bow from over his shoulder, Neteyam held it firmly in his right hand before pressing his body firmly against Telisi’s back, getting as close to her as he could manage. “We need to get above them, high enough that their guns can’t reach us. There, I’ll take fire.”

Immediately, with a screeched-out squawk, Telisi’s flight pattern changed, taking the two of them higher up as she abided by Neteyam’s wishes. 

Taking quick note of their rise, some of the closer AT-99 Scorpions began to fly up with Neteyam and Telisi, their weaponry shifting as the Sky People manning them tried to lock the pair in their sights. 

Neteyam didn’t bother paying any of them too much mind just yet, knowing that he still had a couple of feet between them before the loaded machine guns could contort enough to seamlessly follow Telisi’s movements. That, and the fact that he was pretty confident that once they caught sight of the Mangkwan diadem sitting on his forehead, their orders would be switched out to capturing him instead of killing.

“Keep us steady, Girl,” Neteyam murmured, his fingers twitching down to clasp at one of his charmed arrows, hurriedly pulling it from the quiver he had attached to his hip and nocking it into place. He didn’t pull the drawstring back, though. That would only come when he was sure he could hit his mark. “We can’t afford to miss.”

A shudder ran along Telisi’s spine at that, as if she were physically agreeing with the sentiment. Neteyam wouldn’t put it past the creature to be doing just that, either. Not when he was always accusing her of laughing at him, or even purposely snapping at other Na’vi, even when there was no danger, just so she could keep him all to herself.

Not now, Neteyam, the Omatikayan begrudenly thought, shaking his head to clear it of any thoughts that didn’t strictly relate to the battle raging on at every corner of Awa’atlu. Now wasn’t the time to be thinking of that. 

Drawing the string of his bow back as soon as one of the Sky People’s helicopters got a little too close for comfort, flying haphazardly under Telisi as if they were preparing to ram them out of the sky, Neteyam let his arrow pierce through the sky as soon as its sharpened tip was aimed at one of the T-99 Scorpion’s wings. Sailing through the air, the weapon made contact directly with the propellers keeping the helicopter afloat, sparking a tremorring explosion as the engines connected to it failed.

The metal contraption let out a screech as it began to tilt through the air, the Sky People inside panicking as a round of unaimed bullets tore through the sky, making contact with nothing but air as the T-99 Scorpion began to plummet towards the ocean floor. 

Neteyam felt his chest swell with pride as he watched the helicopter descend. So much so that his lips quirked up at the corners, his bow being pumped up into the air as he let out an ecstatic, “Hell yeah!”

“That was awesome, Bro,” a static pulse shot through Neteyam’s ear as Lo’ak’s voice crackled to life through the communication device. Scrunching his nose slightly at the intrusion, Neteyam still wasn’t quite used to hearing someone else’s voice directly in his ear. Still, he felt more than just a small thrill run through his veins at being called out for the clean shot. “I can’t believe how easily you just kicked those humans’ asses!”

“Eagle Eye, if you don’t get off these comms right now,” Jake’s voice spat through the device not even a second later, making Neteyam cringe slightly as he thought of Neytiri and Tonowari, among some other Na’vi and Sky People allies, who had to listen in on this. “We’re going to have a problem once this is over.”

“Right, sorry, Devil Dog,” Lo’ak muttered, though Neteyam could tell the younger boy didn’t feel an ounce of regret for disobeying orders and radioing over the words of praise to his big brother. Besides, he could practically hear the smile in Lo’ak’s words. And as if that wasn’t enough, Lo’ak whispered a rushed-out cheer despite everyone being able to hear him, “Still, you were amazing, Neteyam– I mean, Pathfinder. Anyway, Eagle Eye out.”

“Thanks, Lo’ak,” Neteyam huffed in amusement, his fingers tapping at the neckpiece that was meant to transmit his voice, not really knowing if he was using the device properly since there was no response to his words. 

Neteyam didn’t ponder on that, though. Not that he was given much of a choice in the matter.

Instead, he was forced to duck his body back down against Telisi’s spine, willing the Ikran to twirl out of the way as a Kestrel Gunship began firing at Neteyam without much regard for the diadem that sat on his forehead. Attempting not to lose his balance as Telisi moved, Neteyam reached for a second arrow and seamlessly nocked it into place. 

He didn’t dare draw the bow’s string back yet, though. He couldn’t when he had Telisi’s frightened emotions whirling around in his head, reminding Neteyam that his life wasn’t the only one being put at risk right now. Not that he’d let anything bad happen to her. That thought alone wasn’t enough to soothe Telisi though, and he knew it. So, Neteyam did what he always did when he was struggling to take aim. 

He took a deep breath in, allowing for it to steady his heart, relax the mind, and soothe the worry from your muscles. Then, he let that deep breath out, feeling his vision clear and his resolve harden. 

Shifting his bow now that he felt the bond between him and Telisi begin to ease, the Ikran clinging to the calming allure he was flooding through Tsaheylu, Neteyam felt no qualms in taking aim at the Kestrel Gunship that had been pursuing them. In fact, he took great pleasure in it as he allowed the arrow to slip from his fingers and meet its target, the results being more than fulfilling. 

As the aircraft begins to plummet, Neteyam makes sure he and Telisi are quick to flee the scene, getting as high as they possibly can before any other Sky People set their eyes on them and think that they are an easy target. 

From then on, Neteyam made sure Telisi was never in the direct line of a Sky Person’s aircraft again, not willing to risk her safety. Just as his father had wished for him, Neteyam kept his distance. He went through the collection of arrows he had been hastily crafting over the past few days, firing them at anyone who dared to get too close. 

For a while, that was all that happened. Although Neteyam didn’t allow himself to let his guard down, it slowly became repetitive, allowing for him to drift through the motions without much chagrin. He’d loosely grasp at one of his arrows, nocking it into place as Telisi carried him through the sky, and would take aim when he saw a T-99 Scorpion or a Kestrel Gunship getting too close for comfort or that was pursuing a warrior that needed help.

Neteyam didn’t dare go after any of the C-21 Dragons, knowing that his measly arrows wouldn’t be able to do much damage to such a ferocious mass of metal. That didn’t stop him from quietly rejoicing whenever he saw his mother going after one of them, though. Neytiri using the modified arrows that Jake had made to take out the lumbering aircrafts with an explosive finish. 

Even while he was preoccupied though, Neteyam couldn’t help but think of the Mangkwan, or their continuous lack of presence. 

Ti’ol had made it crystal clear that they would descend on Awa’atlu and reduce it to nothing but ash, Quaritch confirming Ti’ol’s ambitions when he had attempted to proposition Neteyam. He wasn’t optimistic enough to believe that Varang had willingly forfeited their place in this battle, not when she had a personal vested interest in its outcome.

Yet, there wasn’t a single Mangkwan warrior in sight. Nor was there any sign that they would appear anytime soon, though that didn’t do much to make Neteyam feel any better. 

Instead, the skies were littered with nothing but Ikran, a Toruk, the occasional Tsurak (Skimwing) as it launched itself out of the water, Tulkun as they breached the ocean's surface and collided into the Matadors and Picadors that plagued the waves, and aircraft that were being rapidly destroyed.

Neteyam knew he should be acting on his earlier thoughts: making the best of their absence before the tides changed, but he couldn’t help but take a momentary pause from the battle raging around him to survey the area for any indications that he might have missed. At least one of them should be keeping an eye out from the Mangkwan, ready to warn the warriors of the late addition when they arrive. 

And while Neteyam didn’t spot any traces of what (or who) he had hoped to, he found something that was immensely better.

Eyes landing on a small mass of teal that had pulled itself up onto a jagged rock formation, Neteyam couldn’t help but get a closer look, an invisible force coaxing him down towards it. Without a second thought, Neteyam willed Telisi into a dive, the two of them cutting through the air as they quickly made their way towards the figure Neteyam had spotted.

Upon getting closer, the teal blob was much easier to make out. In a matter of seconds, Neteyam went from thinking it was a broken lump or coral to realising it was the Metkayina Tsahìk struggling to brace herself as a sturdy hand clung to her shoulder.

“Tsahìk,” Neteyam cried as Telisi touched down on the cluster of rocks Ronal had found herself on, his feet moving quicker than his mind as he threw himself from Telisi’s back and rushed over to the woman’s side. Taking in the projectile that was still tightly packed into Ronal’s shoulder, Neteyam fought off the grimace that threatened to overtake his features. “We have to get you back to land, it's not safe for you here.”

“There’s no use, ‘Eveng (Child),” Ronal grunted, her face twisted in pain as she struggled to catch her breath. Instinctively, Neteyam moved towards the woman, carefully prying her hand away from the wound so he could inspect it. Luckily, there didn’t seem to be much blood loss, but without attention soon it could very quickly turn bad. “This baby is demanding to come now, and I will fulfil my duty as a mother to bring it into this world now before taking my place with Eywa.”

“That’s not an option,” Neteyam spat before he could even fully comprehend what Ronal was saying, Ao’nung flashing to the forefront of his mind as his future mate’s mother sat before him, ready to accept her fate without fighting for more. “You’re going to get through this, Tsahìk. Your baby and your people need you.”

“I’m sure you, Tsireya and Kiri will do a fine job of taking care of the village,” she brushed him off, forcing Neteyam to abandon the wound at her shoulder as she tried to situate herself into a more optimal position for birth. Still, despite Ronal ignoring Neteyam’s attempts at her salvation, she offered him a small crumb of reassurance, “You said you were the Tsakarem of the Mangkwan, no? Together, you will be fine.”

“Stop speaking as if Eywa has already decided your fate,” Neteyam blundered, a hand smacking against his mouth when he realised what he had just said. Shamefully, he didn’t feel any regret, though. Instead, he felt determination seer through his veins. So much so that it was present as he declared, “It’s not her decision to make if you die here or get to return home. Don’t let her take that from you.”

“You of all Na’vi should know by now we can’t defy Eywa’s will,” Ronal hissed, her ears snapping back as she stared Neteyam down, almost flinching out of his grasp just to pointedly deny him for such slander when his hands came back up to apply pressure to her shoulder. “It’s because of the Great Mother that you were returned to my son.”

“And it will be because of my will that you are returned to your son,” Neteyam growled back, his teeth gritting together as he flashed them at the woman. Quickly after that, before Ronal could respond or try to force the baby out before she was ready, Neteyam’s hand flew up to the Sky People technology wrapped around his neck. Digging a finger into one of its buttons just as his father had shown him to, Neteyam called out, “Kiri, can you hear me? I’m going to need medical assistance.”

“What’s wrong, Brother?” her voice crackled into his ear not a second later, concern lacing her every word. For half a second, Neteyam couldn’t help but feel as if his sister wasn’t the only one listening in to their conversation, though he didn’t allow himself a second to ponder on that. “Are you hurt?”

“Not me,” Neteyam quickly reassured, turning a deaf ear to the sigh of relief he heard filter through the device. “But Ronal is injured. She’s got a projectile lodged in her shoulder, and she’s going through contraptions.”

“Where are you?” Kiri asked, cutting straight to the chase now that she knew what was happening. In the background, Neteyam could hear some rustling, Kiri clearly not taking her fingers off the microphone button as she began to work. “Lo’ak can’t spot you, and if we’re going to deliver that baby and save the Tsahìk, we must act quickly.”

“I’ll bring her to you,” Neteyam firmly stated, ignoring the outrageous expression that was thrown his way by Ronal, the woman clearly not pleased with the idea of going anywhere near an Ikran. Unfortunately, since Neteyam had decided to take her fate into his own hands since she wouldn’t, Ronal wouldn’t have much of a choice in the matter. He was going to get her to safety, even if it was the last act he did in this war. “It’s too dangerous out here.”

“Okay, well, you know where to find us,” Kiri supplied in confirmation, doing whatever it was she needed to prepare for their arrival. “Be careful, Brother.”

“I will be,” Neteyam sighed before quickly reminding himself of where he was and who was before him. 

Beckoning Telisi over to them, Neteyam absently made Tsaheylu with the Ikran so he could easily command her with his thoughts rather than words and actions. Having Telisi flatten herself against the rocks, making it easier for Ronal to climb onto her back and mount her, Telisi patiently waited for the pregnant woman’s approach. But as Neteyam turned back to Ronal, he realised that it might be more difficult than he previously suspected.

Practically clinging to the formation beneath her, Ronal refused to budge, far too stubborn and set in her ways as she tried to go through her birth alone. Gritting his teeth for a second time, Neteyam clambered over to Ronal, his kuru slightly pulling on his skull as it remained connected to Telisi.

“We have to go, Tsahìk,” Neteyam tried, desperately hoping Ronal would see reason and work with him on this. When she made no move to get up though, her face only twisting with discomfort as her body tensed, Neteyam knew he was wishing for a miracle. So, he took matters into his own hands once again. Coaxing his hands around Ronal’s shoulders, he began to help prop her up, forcing her to support her weight as they moved. “Kiri is waiting for us, she’ll be able to help you.”

“I don’t wish to burden you and your sister,” Ronal doubled down, clinging to Neteyam as she attempted to lower herself into a squat, using the momentary positioning to her advantage. “Please, once my baby is born, deliver them to my family.”

“You can deliver them yourself,” Neteyam grunted, urging Telisi just a little bit closer so that he could lay Ronal down on her back. Although the action came with much struggle, Neteyam didn’t relent until the woman was seated in front of him, using her injury to his advantage to get her into place. “I’m not letting you die here, Ronal. Come on, we’ve got to go.”

“You are too stubborn,” Ronal quipped as Neteyam’s arms came forward on either side of her, her figure slumping backwards and into Neteyam as some of the fight slowly drained from her being, making her much more malleable as Neteyam willed Telisi into the sky, making sure she went gently to accommodate their new passenger. “Just like your mother.”

“Thanks,” Neteyam snorted, though he was almost certain that Ronal hadn’t meant it in a good way. He didn’t mind though, practically preening at the thought of being compared to Neytiri.

As they flew, Neteyam made sure that Telisi stuck close to the waves for Ronal’s comfort. He knew that she wasn’t completely new to flying, her Tsurak (Skimwing) having the ability to hover above the water, but that didn’t change the fact that she had never been on an Ikran’s back before. And being injured definitely wasn’t helping her first experience either. 

So, to combat this, Neteyam made sure Ronal was near what she was comfortable with, keeping the ocean’s angry waves mere inches beneath them and giving her a small semblance of peace that she could escape to if anything went wrong on their journey. Not that anything would. 

Neteyam made sure of that as he kept a hand loosely on his bow, where it had been slung over his shoulders, ready to call it to action if any Sky Person dared to approach them. 

Luckily enough for the two of them though, it seemed they’d be able to get away this time without any harm being sent their way. With the fiasco that was the aerial and naval battle happening behind them, everyone was much too preoccupied to pay them much mind. Interpreting their fleeing nature as a cowardly retreat rather than the medical help they were seeking.

Landing in the small alcove that Neteyam had helped prepare, its cave system stretching deep, where the children of the village would be tucked away, Neteyam quickly noticed Kiri, Lo’ak, Spider and Tuk waiting by the entrance. 

Lo’ak was equipped with one of the Sky People’s weapons that made thunder, no doubt getting the gun from Jake, since there was no other Na’vi who would willingly touch the metal contraption due to the ‘poison’ it possessed. He seemed to be standing on guard with the weapon, periodically looking through the small lens attached to it as he surveyed the skies. 

If Neteyam had to guess, that’s probably how Lo’ak was originally able to spot him when he was dealing with the AT-99 Scorpion that had gone after him when the battle first started. 

Kiri, on the other hand, was briskly holding a small woven basket overflowing with items in her hands. Neteyam wasn’t too sure when Kiri had time to go and get supplies, but he felt a breath of relief fall from his lips at knowing he wouldn’t be leaving Ronal in unprepared hands.

“Lo’ak, help me get her inside,” Neteyam commanded as Telisi naturally lowered her body towards the ground, making it easier to pick the woman up and safely transport her without jostling her injury too much. 

Slinging the gun over his shoulder, its cloth strap stopping it from dropping to the ground, Lo’ak raced to Ronal’s side, helping to prop her onto her feet as Neteyam protected her wounded shoulder, keeping her stable as they carefully manoeuvred their war into the cave system. This time around, Ronal showed no signs of trying to hinder Neteyam’s plans on helping her, cooperating to the best of her ability as Tuk brazenly led the way to a secluded spot for Kiri to work.

“Okay, set her down gently,” Kiri commanded as soon as they got to her work station, hastily setting her basket down and fishing different herbs out of it as she began to blend them together. “When I tell you to, I need you to remove the projectile from her shoulder, Lo’ak. You’ll need to apply pressure to the wound as soon as he does, Neteyam.”

“I can’t,” Neteyam cut in as Lo’ak came huddling in beside him, the younger boy staring at the massive piece of metal sticking out of Ronal’s shoulder as if he were about to be sick. That didn’t stop all eyes from turning to Neteyam, though.

Kiri’s movements instantly halted upon registering Neteyam’s declaration before quickly getting back to work, moving at double the pace to try and make up for any wasted seconds. Still, she shot him a long, sideways glance, silently questioning what could spur such a decision on from Neteyam. Especially since he was the one to bring Ronal in.

Swallowing thickly, Neteyam tried to ignore the curious stares he was receiving. He could feel his siblings' anxiety and Ronal’s annoyance seeping into him, but made a point out of not looking at any of them. Instead, he sheepishly muttered,  “I need to get back out there.”

“Bro, what?” Lo’ak frowned, staring at Neteyam as if he had grown a second head. “It’s okay, you’ve done enough out there. You can stay here until the war’s over.”

“No, I haven’t,” Neteyam sighed, his ears flattening against his head as he looked towards the cave's exit, being able to see and hear the destruction that was raging on beyond the stone walls that surrounded him. Even if Neteyam had taken out a few different aircrafts and potentially saved Ronal’s life, it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough until the RDA had been driven away and Awa’atlu was once again safe. And since that had yet to happen, Neteyam’s mission wasn’t complete. “I need to get back out there.”

“Please be safe, Teyam,” Tuk cautiously said after a few moments of silence, her gilded eyes encouragingly beaming up at him even if she, just like everyone else, didn’t like the idea of Neteyam going back out there. “And kick lots of Sky People butt!”

“I will, Tuk Tuk,” Neteyam promised without a second thought, dropping a hand to rest on Tuk’s head reassuringly before he began to back away from Ronal, giving the injured Tsahìk space so she could be properly attended to by those who were staying. As much as Neteyam would’ve liked to help, he had to get back out there.

Despite his words of assurance though, Neteyam could already see Lo’ak gearing up to argue with him, almost abandoning Ronal altogether in favour of making him stay put. It didn’t seem like Spider or Kiri were too inclined to agree with Neteyam either, with the Sky Person hesitantly making his way over to Neteyam, as if he were going to attempt to grab him, while Kiri shot him a disapproving glance, not being able to afford to stop her task like the others.

Pulling himself away from Tuk meekly, the little girl trying to cling to Neteyam for a few seconds longer, Neteyam straightened his spine and stood with an air of confidence he knew he didn’t truly have, putting on the facade just for his siblings. 

He knew they’d never willingly let him go; he’d be stupid to think they’d ever consider that. But the least he could do to ease them in these times was make them think he was at least prepared for what he was about to face. So, in a definitive tone, Neteyam said, “I’ll see the rest of you when this is all over.”

And then he bolted. Yep. Neteyam turned tail after saying that and took off towards the cave’s exit before any of them could try to get a response out. 

Perhaps if they were in a different situation, Neteyam’s dignity would’ve been at stake. But with explosions shaking the earth every couple of minutes, signifying plummeting aircrafts and sinking ships, Neteyam, and everyone else, had much bigger things to worry about. 

Spotting Telisi dutifully perched outside the cave’s entrance, her piercing gaze trained on the sky as she followed along with the battle, Neteyam quickly rushed over to her and made tsaheylu. Feeling the bond spark to life, Neteyam easily made his way onto the Ikran’s back, getting himself comfortable before Telisi was taking off and heading straight back into the heat of things at his simple command. 

Unhooking his bow from where it had been slung over his shoulder, Neteyam steadied the weapon in his hand, fishing an arrow out from his quiver as he did so. This time around, Neteyam would make sure he wasn’t caught off guard.

As the two of them moved, getting closer to the battle, Neteyam couldn’t help but feel a small urge inside of him, swirling in his stomach as it grew with every passing second, and told him that he wasn’t doing enough. That he needed to do more. And who was Neteyam to deny that voice when he was the one who brought this war on?

Going against every instruction his father had given him before he was even allowed near the battlefield, Neteyam redirected Telisi as he set his gaze on an AT-99 Scorpion blazing after an Ikran and its rider, its guns firing at an unrelenting pace as the Sky People within it attempted to knock its targets out of the air. Forcing Telisi to pick up her speed, Neteyam nocked his arrow before they were even within shooting distance, his arm burning as he pulled back the draw string and waited.

Instead of cowering at the slight sting of pain, Neteyam embraced it. Welcoming it with open arms as his eyes narrowed and his aim sharpened. He could feel the ache spread towards his chest, making a home for itself right over where his bullet wound was still healing, the silver stretch of scarred skin sitting there as a constant reminder to Neteyam of what happens when you’re not careful in battle. 

While Neteyam couldn’t exactly remember how he got the injury, his mind was too hazy and being fed far too many retellings of the event to form a solid opinion, he knew that he would never allow himself to suffer from a miscalculation like that again. And while he was able, he’d make damn sure it didn’t happen to anyone else while he was on watch.

Getting close enough that he could see each individual cartridge casing falling from the machine guns attached to the aircraft, Neteyam finally allowed himself to adjust his grip on the bow and let go of the drawstring, allowing the arrow situated within it to fire. 

Sailing through the air at an impeccable speed, the arrow made contact with its target in a matter of seconds. Its sharpened animal bone arrowhead disappeared within the whirling propellers of the aircraft’s left wing, rattling within its metal blades before the metal bird began to malfunction, its machinery faltering for just a moment before a large explosion shook its bones and sent it tumbling out of the sky.

Watching as the AT-99 Scorpion fell towards the raging ocean below them, a chirped-out battle cry rang towards him, the warrior he had assisted raising their own bow in the air in ‘thanks’ towards Neteyam. A bright smile spread across the warrior's face when Neteyam returned the gesture, their gratitude settling within Neteyam’s chest before they were flying away with the intent to wreak havoc on a new helicopter filled with Sky People.

Despite his chest puffing out with pride, Neteyam refused to let himself ponder on that moment for too long, commanding Telisi to instantly start trailing after another AT-99 Scorpion that was nearby so he could take another aircraft out of the sky and get the Na’vi one step closer to winning this war.

And for a while, that’s all Neteyam did. He’d set his sights on a lone aircraft, nock his arrow as Telisi began to race towards them, take aim, and then force the Sky People and their metal mounts out of the sky. 

For the most part, Neteyam stuck to his AT-99 Scorpions and SA-2 Samsons. Occasionally, when another warrior would grab his attention, he and some other Ikran riders would take on a C-21 Dragon, all going for a different one of its wings and firing at the aircraft until it either erupted in a blazing explosion or began to plummet towards the sea. And while Neteyam had yet to go after any of the Sky People’s sea-based arsenal, from the looks of the breaching Tulkun and swarm of Tsuraks (Skimwings), the Metkayina and Reef Na’vi had it covered.

With the Sky People going down at a rapid pace, with a new aircraft being destroyed with every passing second, and many Matadors and Picadors being left abandoned in the water as the Sky People manning them were killed and thrown overboard, Neteyam allowed a sliver of hope to blossom within him, its warmth spreading through his veins as the idea of actually winning this war seemed possible.

That was until, of course, he felt something in his gut begin to twist unexpectedly, plunging him into chills as an invisible force took hold of him. The mysterious presence made Neteyam feel sick, his body instinctively hunching in on himself to try to shield himself from the sensation. 

Flicking his eyes over the battlefield in front of him, Neteyam couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Sure, there were aircrafts, Sky People, Ikran, and Na’vi falling from the air, which wasn’t exactly a daily occurrence, as well as Tulkun destroying ships and Tsuraks (Skimwings) charging smaller boats, but none of that should’ve warranted such a reaction out of Neteyam. 

But despite that, it felt like death itself had tapped him on the shoulder and claimed him for itself.

And it wasn’t until hundreds of shadows began to dance over him, forcing Neteyam to look up and over his shoulder, that he realised why such a dreadful feeling had crept up on him. It was the–

“Mangkwan!” Neytiri’s voice pierced through Neteyam’s mind, her screech crackling from the earpiece as she alerted everyone wearing the Sky People’s technology of their enemy's arrival. Neteyam could half-make out some panicked responses filtering in through the device, but none of them registered properly, Neteyam’s focus stolen. Because oh, what a sight they were.

With ash trailing the sky behind them, a new wave of Ikran and the occasional Ska'avum (Nightwraith) bounded towards the battlefield, their echoing war cries reaching the way before even they did. Bullets were raining out in all directions, no distinct target in mind as the Mangkwan warriors who wielded them shot at a frenzied will. 

It was chaos. Pure, uncontrolled chaos that promised a disastrous ending. And as the new addition of Mangkwan fighters raced towards the Na’vi set on protecting their home, it seemed that end would come regretfully soon as they held no regard for themselves on the mounts they rode on, using whatever means necessary to cause as much damage as possible. 

It was horrid, and it was ugly, and Neteyam couldn’t stand it.

Feeling his fingers instinctively twitch towards a fresh arrow, his eyes darting between the different warriors to find a weak link, Neteyam did nothing to fight that urge. Instead, he leaned into it. 

Urging Telisis forward, the pair of them dash upwards towards the incoming stream of Mangkwan fighters. With the weight of his old diadem sitting heavily on his forehead, its official meaning burdening him ever since he had found out it had all been a lie, Neteyam almost couldn’t help but hope that he was spotted. That he was recognised among the sea of carnage and acknowledged for what he now was: a traitor. 

Nocking his arrow as soon as his gaze landed on a straggler, a warrior who was clearly overzealous with his newfound toy, Neteyam commanded Telisi through their tsaheylu to charge towards the Mangkwan warrior. Pulling the drawstring back, Neteyam took a deep breath, in through his nose, and out through his mouth, as he took aim.

Lining his arrow up with the hollow of the warrior's neck, a point that would mark a quick and easy death, Neteyam steadied himself. Other than Lyle, or at least, of those he could remember, this would be his second Na’vi kill. Or, well, first, since Lyle had been an uniltìrantokx (dreamwalker / avatar). Still, this blood would soak his hands and weigh down on his shoulders heavier than the simple killing of an animal, because this one wasn’t done out of necessity or survival. This one was being done because Neteyam wanted to squish out every flame that took part in his brainwashing.

Counting down the seconds until he arrived at his target, Neteyam felt his fingers begin to loosen around the drawstring, ready to see off the arrow and allow it to plunge into the flesh of its soon-to-be-victims' neck. But Neteyam didn’t act just yet, not until Telisi levelled them out just behind the warrior’s own Ikran, giving him a clean path for his arrow to take. 

It was only then that Neteyam allowed the arrow to slip away, mumbling to himself as he did,  almost as if he were saying a prayer, “Reypay zene lu reypay (Blood must have blood).”

But the arrow never landed. In fact, it didn’t even fly anywhere near Neteyam’s chosen target. Instead, curving towards the sky with no home insight as Telisi arched into a quick dive, sending the both of them racing towards the water.

Chasing after him was a whirlwind of stampeding bullets, strikes of thunder rattling the air as they rained down on him. 

“Dive, Telisi! Dive,” Neteyam gasped out as he pressed his chest flat against Telisi’s back, eliminating any wind resistance between them so they could make a quick getaway. Only, the bullets following after them didn’t stop. Instead, they grew rowdier, with less precision aiding their flight paths. “We need to try and get out of here–”

“Ma'itan,” a screech cut through the end of his sentence, crashing into Neteyam as if it had been one of the bullets erratically shot his way. The sound made Neteyam’s blood run ice cold, realisation flooding his senses as he recognised who the gruelling voice belonged to. 

Chancing a glance over his shoulder, Neteyam’s gaze locked on Varang’s, panic curling to life in the pit of his stomach as he took in her manic grin and the gun she was haphazardly waving around in the air. Upon having his eyes on her, Varang lit up, her bared fangs seeming to gleam in the light, ready to sink into the fresh kill of her hunt. Only this time around, Neteyam would be the unlucky soul she took.

“Stop this foolishness now at once,” she demanded, ready to strike up a bargain to get her faithful Tsakarem back in line. By the way Neteyam was gripping onto Telisi for dear life though, his tail two seconds away from curling around his thigh in fear, Varang should’ve known it’d be a lost cause. “And I’ll make sure your punishment has no lasting side effects.”

“I’m not your son,” Neteyam hissed in an attempt to be brave, though he was feeling anything but that. As if to make matters worse as well, his words did little other than to worsen Varang’s mood, her fangs gritting together in a dangerous scowl. From the shuddering twitch that raked through Telisi’s body, it seemed she was beginning to catch on to his unease, the flapping of her wings growing more vigorous by the second. “And I won’t stop until you leave my friends and family alone.”

“Then you will watch them all burn,” Varang spat, her thinly veiled civility washing away as her true colours shone through, revealing nothing more than an angry woman. “The Sullys and your little pet boy will suffer because you were too weak to be a true Mangkwan–”

Whatever Varang was going to say next was abruptly cut off, her voice dying and being swept away in the wind before being replaced by a seething hiss. By what, you may ask. Well, that was a good question. Tearing his eyes away from where he and Telisi had been descending, Neteyam took another glance over his shoulder, prepared to find Varang two inches away from killing him.

But instead of that, Neteyam was met with a much more magnificent sight. Toruk.

With his blazing orange wings spread wide, Toruk had cut through the space between Neteyam and Varang, obstructing her path and forcing her to change route, lest she wanted to crash into the legendary beast.

And while Varang did just that, firing a trail of angered bullets after Toruk as he glided away, his eyes locked onto a new target to wreak havoc on, Neteyam couldn’t help but lock eyes with his father. With his dreads dishevelled, paint beginning to streak across his body as his sweat glistened and dampened the substance, and his own gun relentlessly laying waste to all that got in its way, Jake looked like everything Neteyam had imagined Toruk Makto to be. 

Only, there was one small problem. Jake’s gaze was locked on Neteyam. And while Neteyam had come to not mind being on the receiving end of his father’s attention, quickly shedding that initial hatred he felt whenever the man looked his way, he wasn’t, unfortunately, just staring at Neteyam.

No, there was a glare contorting his features as he soaked in the presence of Neteyam in the middle of the battlefield instead of the outskirts as he had instructed. 

…Whoops?

Feeling his shoulders jump up to his ears, making him hunch forward as a sheepish smile grew on his face and in an attempt to soothe whatever qualms Jake was having, Neteyam sent the man a small wave, hoping that would be enough to make Jake move along. 

It wasn’t. Well, not entirely. Jake did, sort of, have to break the protective shield that he and Toruk had practically formed above Neteyam, but that was only because it would’ve been stupid to stay stagnant for so long. But, before he left, since they were in the midst of war and had no time now, Jake shot Neteyam a warning scowl, letting him know that he’d been in for a long conversation once this was all over.

That… most certainly wasn’t something Neteyam was looking forward to. But, just like Jake, he didn’t have the time to dwell on it. Especially when Telisi was still heading towards the ocean at an alarming speed to try and escape. 

“Mawey (calm), Telisi,” Neteyam called while running a hand reassuringly along the Ikran’s neck, flooding their tsaheylu link with soothing memories in an attempt to slow her down. But while some of the panic in Telisi eased, her wings never stopped fluttering in their erratic beats, taking the two of them directly to the water's surface, where she breezed along the top of it. “Varang is gone now. We’re safer now.”

An indecipherable squawk was chriped from Telisi in response to that, making Neteyam’s brow muscles scrunch as he tried to search for a meaning behind them. Nothing. Even when Telisi craned her head back, attempting to meet Neteyam’s eye, he couldn’t find any reasoning behind her indiscernible chatter.

Leaning forward slightly until his head was closer to hers, as if that would help him make sense of Telisi’s tittering, Neteyam was about to question his Ikran when a familiar, slightly obscured shout caught his attention, making him snap his eyes in the direction it had come from.

It didn’t take much for Neteyam’s eyes to lock onto where, or better yet, who, the noise had come from, his gaze naturally being drawn towards it. But when he did, Neteyam felt his heart drop into the pits of his stomach. Because there, scrambling to pull himself out of the water and onto the jagged rocks beneath a cliff's overhanging ledge, was Ao’nung. Though he wasn’t alone. 

Mechanically following after him was one of the Sky People’s Crab Suits, its clawed hands reaching out for Ao’nung and almost knocking him off balance. Luckily, Ao’nung was just able to evade the metal hand as it made a grab for him, using his spear to plunge through the glass and shove the demon back. 

With Pandora’s unfiltered air flowing into the Crab Suit, Ao’nung had a few short moments to create space between him and the Sky Person, the Metkayina boy using it wisely to bolt across the uneven rocks while the RDA soldier searched for his Exopack. Unfortunately, for Ao’nung, that didn’t take long though. With the respirator mask being stored securely next to the Sky Person, it only took a few seconds for them to grab it and fasten it over their face, allowing them to begin their pursuit of Ao’nung again.

Only, Neteyam wasn’t going to sit idly and let that slide. Not when it was Ao’nung they were messing with.

Letting out a series of trills and clicks, Telisi redirected their flight path so they were instead sailing towards Ao’nung, all the while his call completely flew over the Crab Suit's head, the Sky Person inside mistaking it for just another animal aiding the Na’vi. That demon, however, wasn’t who Neteyam was intending to catch the attention of though. 

As soon as the call had left Neteyam’s mouth, Ao’nung’s head snapped towards him, his loose curls slapping against his face as he searched for Neteyam. And when their eyes met, well, Ao’nung’s face practically lit up with the biggest smile Neteyam had ever seen.

“Ma’Teyam,” Ao’nung waved gleefully, his spear flapping through the air in greeting as he all but ignored the Sky Person that was still in pursuit of him. 

“Not now, Ao’nung,” Neteyam’s teeth grit together, his eyes quickly peeling themselves away from his future mate as the demon Crab Suit made its appearance known with its mechanical whirling. Without a sliver of hesitation, Neteyam grabbed at one of his arrows, absently noting his dwindling supply. Nocking the arrow into place and tugging the drawstring back, Neteyam released the arrow before the Sky Person even noticed his approach.

With a sharp thwack, the arrow zipped through the shattered glass that Ao’nung’s spear had provided, making a home for itself in the Sky Person’s right eye as the animal bone arrowhead cut through the demons proactive mask and nailed its target.

Upon impact, the Crab Suit that the Sky Person had been manning began to wobble, tumbling over itself as it crashed onto the rocks Ao’nung had used to escape from it. There, it lay almost completely still, only its metal hand twitching from where the lifeless body of the RDA soldier had been gripping onto its steering mechanics as they died. 

Not sparing it a second thought once he was sure the demon wouldn’t be able to get up and attempt to seek revenge on him or Ao’nung, Neteyam’s focus changed, his sights now set on Ao’nung, who was dreamily, if not a little anxiously as well, staring at Neteyam. 

A shabby smile had made its way onto the boy's face, gratitude pouring out of him in strong waves as he watched over Neteyam. 

Trying not to let his own smile split across his face, Ao’nung’s excitement at seeing him seemingly contagious as Neteyam had to fight off the urge to throw all caution to the wind and just jump off of Telisi’s back so he could take his future mate into his arms, Neteyam quietly told Telisi to curve to the side, having to grip onto her harness tightly as to not lose his balance as they flew closer to Ao’nung sideways. 

It was only when they were within arm's reach did Neteyam extended his hand towards Ao’nung, the Metkayina boy quickly clasping onto it and helping as much as he could to hoist himself up and into Telisi’s saddle. 

Plopping down heavily behind Neteyam as if it were second nature by now, one of Ao’nung’s arms snaked its way around Neteyam’s waist, his chin hooking itself over Neteyam’s shoulder to see what was going on as he kept his speer propped and ready. As he moved to get comfortable, Telisi straightened herself, fleeing the scene without much prompting from Neteyam.

“Ma’Nung,” Neteyam finally breathed out now that there was no oncoming Sky Person to worry about, both a mixture of relief and panic flooding his words as he spared a second to brush his nose into the side of his future mate's face. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, Yawne (Beloved),” Ao’nung easily assured, his hold on Neteyam tightening for just a fraction of a second as if to confirm that he was physically in one piece. For a second time, a breath of air puffed its way out of Neteyam’s lungs, his mind trying to catch up with the reality that he had Ao’nung safe and sound behind him. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

While Ao’nung’s words were spoken in an attempt to comfort, the boy clearly at ease with what was happening as he pulled himself impossibly closer to Neteyam’s back, they unfortunately missed their mark by a large girth. Because while Neteyam was put at ease about any harm being brought to his lover, a new twist of annoyance began to blossom inside of him at finding Ao’nung stranded with no backup as he tried to evade a Sky Person’s angered charge.

“Well, clearly I do if you’ve been left in the middle of the ocean,” Neteyam lightly chided, pulling his face abruptly from Ao’nung’s to fix him with a glare before pointedly turning away from him and putting his focus in front of him so he could properly guide Telisi through the carnage. “Where’s your Tsurak (Skimwing) or spirit brother? I’ll drop you off to one of them.”

“I’m not sure,” Ao’nung dejectedly sighed, making Neteyam’s head snap back so fast that some of his braids whipped against Ao’nung’s face not even a second later. Ao’nung tried to pull back from the light attack, his eyes squeezing shut so as to not get a bead lodged in his eye, but when he almost lost his balance on Telisi’s back, he quickly fixed himself straight again. But maybe he should've allowed himself to slip off of Telisi, as when he peeled his eyes open again, he could see the absolute disbelief that had made its way onto Neteyam’s features. With an undignified squeak, and his shoulders hunched up to his ears in embarrassment, Ao’nung demanded, “What? Don’t look at me like that!”

“I’ll look at you however I want to, Skxawng (Moron),” Neteyam scoffed with a roll of his eyes, not being able to quite believe what he was hearing. “How can you not know where either of them are?”

“Because it’s pure chaos out here, Ma’Teyam, if you haven’t noticed,” Ao’nung couldn’t help but snort, making Neteyam’s gaze flash over to the Tulkun that was slapping against massive Sky People ships, Tsuraks (Skimwings) and their Na’vi counterparts zipping in and out of the water as they attacked the small boats the Sky People were manning, and the occasional crashing of aircrafts and Ikran alike as they tumbled out of the skies. Then, with a shrug, Ao’nung muttered, “Besides, I know where my spirit brother is, because he’s helping the other Tulkun with the Sky People ships.”

“And your Tsurak (Skimwing)?” Neteyam asked, unimpressed.

“Uh, yeah, I’m not sure about him,” Ao’nung sheepishly declared, accepting defeat with a scrunch of his nose. “We got separated not too long ago by some underwater explosion. I saw him swim away, but he hasn’t been answering my calls.”

“Hm,” Neteyam notcommittably hummed, his eyes momentarily scanning the water. This was bad. If Ao’nung couldn’t get ahold of his Tsurak (Skimwing), and his spirit brother was busy with the other Tulkun, he’d be a sitting duck out on the battlefield. Perhaps if he were able to get in contact with a nearby Ilu, he’d be okay, but since Ao’nung had yet to do that, something was telling Neteyam that those, too, weren’t answering. 

If Neteyam could, he’d offer to allow Ao’nung to stick with him, but deep down he knew that wasn’t an option. Ao’nung hated flying, even if it were with Neteyam and they were taking it steadily down near the water's edge. He wouldn’t be able to last long on Telisi’s back, especially with all the manoeuvres they’ve been abruptly doing.

That, and the fact that they were at war. Neteyam couldn’t afford to take on the risk of keeping Ao’nung with him when he could barely take care of himself and Telisi. He was already a target with the Mangkwan, Neteyam didn’t want to make them stand out even more and draw unwanted firing their way. 

So, Neteyam did the only logical thing he could think of right now: he redirected Telisi back to the village. If Ao’nung had no mount, then he couldn’t fight. It was as simple as that. 

Plus, Neteyam was running dangerously low on arrows. He’d be rendered just as useless soon if he didn’t do anything about that.

“I’m taking you back to land,” Neteyam said, a certain string of authority lacing his tone that left little room for objection. One of his top priorities after all is keeping the ones he loves safe, and he’d be damned if something like this was the reason Ao’nung went down. “There, you can try and call for your Tsurak (Skimwing) or an Ilu while I get some more arrows. If none come, find your mother. She is being treated by Kiri.”

“What happened to my mother?” Ao’nung questioned, panic engulfing him as his head instinctively turned to the rock formation that was hiding their refuge location, the cave system within it stretching far and deep. “Is she okay? How’s the baby doing?”

“They’re both going to be fine,” Neteyam was quick to assure, a hand reaching back to brush along Ao’nung’s thigh, offering whatever comfort he could possibly manage right now. Perhaps mentioning Ao’nung’s injured mother hadn’t been the smartest move, but he at least deserved to know something was up now instead of once the war had been resolved. Still, Neteyam tried to limit his words, not giving much away as he said, “Your mother lost a bit of blood, but I’m certain Kiri will be able to– Gah!”

The rest of Neteyam’s sentence was physically cut off as an unrelenting force collided with them, smacking directly into Telisi and throwing them all off balance as the Ikran whirled through the air for a few seconds, working desperately to stabilise herself. For a few seconds, nothing Telisi did seemed to work; Ao’nung unhelpfully commenting about how he was going to be sick.

But Neteyam didn’t have time for that, not when it seemed he’d be their only hope of getting through this. Tightening his hold on Telisi’s saddle, Neteyam felt his teeth clatter together as he craned his neck to try and figure out what had hit them, only to have all the air sucked out of his lungs as he came face-to-face with the culprit:

There, with a face consumed by rage, and the side of his chest heavily bandaged with blood seeping through the herbs and leaves there, was Ti’ol.

Neteyam’s jaw dropped at the sight, the realisation of who was in front of him hitting harder than Ti’ol’s Ska'avum (Nightwraith) ever could. Neteyam had shoved a spear through Ti’ol’s back, after all. The same spear that Ao’nung was clutching right now as he tried to get ahold of himself. It shouldn't be possible that Ti’ol was flying there beside him, Neteyam certain that they’d left him to bleed out in the chaos of escaping Bridgehead City.

But here Ti’ol was. With his teeth bared together in an ugly grin, a gun or two strapped to his Ska'avum’s (Nightwraith’s) saddle, a bow slung over his uninjured shoulder, a stolen spear held tightly in his hands, and the bold paints of the Mangkwan clan smeared across his skin, marking which side he was on. 

“I can see you weren’t expecting to see me, were you, Yawntutsyìp (Darling / Little Loved One)?” Ti’ol taunted in response to Neteyam’s bewildered expression, finally catching the attention of Ao’nung as he tensed behind Neteyam, no longer needing to fight for his life as Telisi steadily zipped forward. “But I’ve been thinking about this moment for many hours now.”

“Good,” Neteyam hissed, no longer sitting idly on Telisi’s back as he propped himself forward in a low crouch. Already, Telisi began to react, feeling Neteyam’s intentions through their tsaheylu as she pivoted towards Ti’ol and set his Ska'avum (Nightwraith) in their direct line of attack. “Because this will feel so much worse when I’m done with you.”

“Uhh, Neteyam?” Ao’nung bristled, his eyes darting between his future mate and the man who had been trying to steal him as he attempted to figure out what was going on. And although it didn’t take a genius to figure it out, Ao’nung, for the sake of Eywa, really hoped he had been mistaken. Especially when Telisi began to charge. “What are you doing, Ma’Yawne? (My Beloved)?”

“Taking him out for good,” Neteyam supplied, his teeth gritting together as he braced himself for impact. 

With a loud squawk from Ti’ol’s Ska'avum (Nightwraith), and a manic grin spread across his face, Ti’ol met Neteyam and Telisi head-on, driving his Ska'avum (Nightwraith) directly into them as the two mounts collided in a flurry of snapping beaks and flapping wings. While their talons met, gripping dangerously at one another in an attempt to claw chunks of flesh out of the other, the five of them began to plummet in a swirl of dancing rage.

“Kxll si (Attack), Telisi,” Neteyam cried as they were tossed around in the air, a warning hiss falling from his lips when he saw the Ska'avum’s (Nightwraith’s) head lunge towards him, its grey teeth trying to clamp around his arm. “Tung ayfo zìm ngeyä tìsti (Let them feel our anger)!”

“Your commands are useless, Neteyam,” Ti’ol chided, hanging onto his Ska'avum’s (Nightwraith’s) saddle with the arm connected to his injured side while his free hand raised the stolen spear, its sharpened point aimed at Neteyam’s heart. With a valiant thrust, uncaring if the hit would kill his former Tsakarem, Ti’ol jabbed the spear towards Neteyam with a bitter laugh, “You’ve already lost this one.”

The spear never landed, though. Or, at least, not on its intended target.

With widened eyes, Neteyam had thrown himself away from the oncoming weapon hastily, veering away as much as he possibly could without throwing himself off of Telisi. He absently hoped that Ao’nung had been aware enough of what was going on to do the same, though he couldn’t spare a second to think of anyone else at the moment.

Only that seemed to be his biggest mistake yet, since instead of crashing into him, the spear’s head slashing lightly against his arm, it dove straight into Telisi’s back, a screeching cry falling from her lips as soon as the weapon made contact.

And Neteyam felt all of it.

Bursts of pain immediately began to swarm Neteyam through their tsaheylu, the burning hot sensation engulfing him without a second's falter as Telisi’s body began to thrash in the Ska'avum’s (Nightwraith’s) hold. Pressing a trembling hand to his chest, Neteyam tried to bear the pain, sending his own waves of distant delight through the link in an effort to help. 

It did very little. Telisi’s body continued to tremor, and her pain chased after Neteyam, not quite allowing him to escape. 

But that all took an abrupt turn when Telisi was dropped out of the Ska'avum’s (Nightwraith’s) hold, her body plummeting towards the ocean without any warning. 

Before Neteyam could even react, his tsaheylu with Telisi was being forcibly broken, a teal hand yanking his braid away from their shared bond before it was snaking its way around his waist and guiding them safely (or as safely as one could manage when being randomly dropped from such a height) into the water. 

While Neteyam felt relief flood his senses at no longer having to deal with the pain Telisi was being put through, he couldn’t help but feel his heart break as he watched his girl shudder away from them, flying haphazardly to the first bit of land she could spot as she tried not to constrict her back too much. At least she would be safe now, though. She’d be away from the battle, and no one in their right mind would go after a lone Ikran. That thought alone gave Neteyam the slightest peace of mind and the strength to brace for impact. 

It seemed he wouldn’t have to though, as just as the water began to grow nearer, Ao’nung curved their bodies around, forcing his own back to face the ocean as Neteyam was protectively tucked into his chest. Taking on the brunt of the force, Ao’nung crashed into the water with a harsh slap. The waves quickly engulfed them both after that, shielding them from the surface world as they sank. 

They didn’t stay like that for long, though. Ao’nung’s body worked on autopilot as soon as they touched the wet surface of his second home, his legs kicking out and propelling himself and Neteyam forward. 

Neteyam tried to help as much as he physically could, thrashing his legs aimlessly in an attempt to add to the speed Ao’nung was moving at, but it seemed to not be much use. Ao’nung made that clear when he spared Neteyam a cheeky smile despite the situation they were in, adjusting Neteyam in his hold so he could better maneuver them without any effort needed from the Omatikayan. 

As Neteyam was being shifted around though, practically being held bridal style in Ao’nung’s arms, he felt something sharp dig into his shoulder, a series of talons digging their way into his flesh before harshly yanking him up. At the contact, a cry tore itself from Neteyam’s lips, a series of bubbles forcing their way out as water began to trickle in through his throat, making Neteyam splutter and Ao’nung’s hold on him tighten. 

Looking back to see what had caused the pain, Neteyam saw Ti’ol’s Ska'avum (Nightwraith) latching onto him, the beast having followed them into the water in a quick dive in order to get them. 

With a sharp tug, Neteyam was ripped from the water, the sensation hitting him as if he had decided to take another plunge. But instead of being the only one pulled from the ocean, Ao’nung followed after them, his hold on Neteyam just as fierce as the first time they reunited. 

Feeling his body get violently jostled, Neteyam’s head was snapped back because of the quick succession, a harsh ache flaring to life at the base of his neck. Instead of using his hand to try to soothe the irritated skin like Neteyam wanted to, he instead dug his fingers into the Ska'avum’s (Nightwraith’s) talons, trying to tear them out from his shoulder. 

It wasn’t much use, unsurprisingly. But that didn’t stop Neteyam from trying, his upper body thrashing erratically while Ao’nung clung to him, the Metkayina’s own weight dragging him down as he slipped towards Neteyam’s legs. 

Neteyam feared he was about to lose Ao’nung for a moment when the Ska'avum (Nightwraith) began to propel them all forward at a daring speed, the two of them whipping back in the air as it made its way over to one of the S-76 SeaDragons sitting stagnant in the water.

“Your boy doesn’t have to see this, Yawntutsyìp (Darling / Little Loved One),” Ti’ol declared as they neared the massive boat, a few figures, such as Varang and Quaritch, and a few huddled over bodies, coming into sight. Feeling his face twist into a grimace at the sight of them, Neteyam tore his eyes away from them as terror began to consume his mind and instead planted them on Ti’ol, hoping the mere image of him would bring out some of that familiar anger. But now with his gaze locked on the Mangkwan warrior, Neteyam couldn’t help but pay attention to what he had to say, fearing they might be reaching the end. “Varang doesn’t care what happens to him, so I suggest you leave him here.”

Leave Ao’nung here? In the middle of the ocean? Where he could be attacked by anyone or anything?

Originally, the thought of that made Neteyam feel sick. That had been the entire reason Ao’nung was crowded onto Telisi with him in the first place. But that had been when Varang hadn’t been an immediate threat. When she was far away, and the two of them could afford to think they actually had a chance of getting out of this. 

That clearly didn’t work out very well for them. And now, Varang was right there. In a matter of moments, Neteyam would be before her and at her mercy. If she had been so willing to send a storm of bullets after him when he first laid eyes on him, offering Neteyam an opportunity for clemency, Neteyam feared what the woman would do now, knowing that she was dealing with a traitor. 

And Varang thought of Neteyam as kin, too. Just imagining what could happen to Ao’nung, a Reef Na’vi who had been nothing but a nuisance to her, sent a tremor shooting down his spine. 

Would she cut his kuru? Most definitely. She cut the kuru of every Na’vi who didn’t align themselves with her. Maybe if Neteyam begged, she’d allow Ao’nung to join the Mangkwan, not that Neteyam thought the boy would ever willingly disregard the Metkayina for another clan. And even if he did, he’d become nothing but a pawn for Varang to use against Neteyam. 

He had to get rid of Ao’nung. It was the only way. 

If Neteyam wanted to keep Ao’nung safe, or at least as safe as he possibly could for now, he had to get Ao’nung to let go of him. That way, he’d be spared. He could run away, or find Tonowari to help with the ongoing battles, or could hide out with the children and see his mother. 

Looking down at his future mate the boy who was still clinging to him as if his life depended on it, even though by doing that it was the exact opposite, Neteyam felt his heart both break and swell at the same time. Despite Neteyam losing his memory, despite Neteyam trying to kill his family, despite Neteyam getting kidnapped, despite Neteyam bringing war to Awa’atlu, despite everything that had happened, Ao’nung had done everything he had promised to Neteyam.

He had stayed by Neteyam’s side and refused to give up on him even when things got tough. 

They had fun while it lasted, but now it was time to say goodbye.

“Ao’nung, let go,” Neteyam said, tears welling up in his eyes as he barked out the order. Even though it pained him to do so, Neteyam refused to look away from Ao’nung’s face, witnessing firsthand as the panic began to build upon his features. “It’s okay. Let go.”

“No,” Ao’nung objected, his hold tightening as he refused to budge. Neteyam could see the determination in his eyes. That unbreakable desire to make all the bad in the world go away for just Neteyam. It was unfortunate that Neteyam wouldn’t allow Ao’nung to stay true to his word this time around, but he’d much rather have a few broken promises on his hands than have Ao’nung’s severed kuru forced on him as a reminder. As a trophy. “I can’t leave you with him, Neteyam.”

“I’ll be fine, Ma’Tìyawn (My Love),” Neteyam assured, forcing a final smile onto his face, even if it was full of cracks. If these were their final moments together, Neteyam didn’t want the last image Ao’nung saw of him to be one of fear. And even if he was certain he wasn’t an exactly pleasant sight right now, he knew it’d be better than the former. “You have to trust me. I just want to keep you safe.”

Ao’nung’s brow muscles pinched together, his head beginning to rapidly shake as he took in Neteyam’s words. With a broken rasp, Ao’nung pleaded, “But Ma’Teyam, I–” 

He didn’t get to finish his sentence, Neteyam using whatever strength he had left to kick Ao’nung away from him before the Metkayina could work his magic and have Neteyam give in to his every whim. 

As Ao’nung fell into the water, his final shout for Neteyam being consumed by the crashing waves as they lapped at his body, Neteyam entered a point of no return, his entire body tensing up with that knowledge as he approached the S-76 SeaDragon housing Varang at Ti’ol’s will. 

Having no power left to fight it, Neteyam hung limply in the Ska'avum’s (Nightwraith’s) grip until they reached the demon ship, its talons flexing every couple of moments to make sure Neteyam was still in its grasp, making fickle streams of blood pour out of his navy skin from multiple points. As they arrived though, Neteyam was able to get a better glance at the hunched figures he had seen earlier, their faces no longer obstructed by their withering states. 

It was Neytiri and Tuk. His mother and little sister. The woman who had been desperately reaching for Neteyam, even when he pushed her away, and the little girl who had made it her own personal mission to make Neteyam feel at home in Awa’atlu.

Varang had them. 

Gritting his teeth together, Neteyam welcomed the harsh landing of Ti’ol’s Ska'avum (Nightwraith) as he was thrusted towards the ground, his knees banging against the S-76 SeaDragon’s metal flooring and forced down. 

But Neteyam didn’t stay like that for long, forcing himself to his feet in a disorganised stumble before lunging forward. With a hand reaching for the dagger he kept attached to his loincloth, Neteyam let out a warning hiss as his eyes landed on Varang, her own teeth bearing into a wide grin at the sight of him.

“Get away from them,” Neteyam seethed, his hand flexing dangerously as he pointed the blades towards Varang, who was standing between Neytiri and Tuk. It seemed his warning did nothing other than to spur the Tsahìk on though, as she began to slowly trail her fingers along Neytiri’s shoulders, purposely making a show of grabbing at her kuru. 

Alarm blared to life in Neteyam at the sight of this, not understanding why his mother wasn’t fighting back when before now all her interactions with Varang had been nothing but anger-filled. Hell, just the mention of the other woman had Neytiri’s teeth gritting and the promise of death hanging in the air. But getting a closer look at Neytiri, Neteyam could see why the woman was sitting still and allowing Varang to do whatever she wanted to her. 

With cuts streaming all over the woman's face, she looked sickingly worse for wear, exhaustion consuming her. The sight made Neteyam falter slightly, his guard dropping for just a moment before he felt a blinding aggression build from within him. Fixing the grip on his knife, Neteyam positioned it more fiercely in front of him, hissing out, “I said, get away!”

“You do not give orders around here, ma’itan (my son),” Varang tsked, bringing her fingertips to the end of Neytiri’s kuru and bringing it closer to her own. Seeing the pink tendrils of their kurus leave the confines of their braids as they got closer to connecting, Neteyam’s face visibly dropped, his jaw gaping around the open air as Varang completely ignored his threat. In a teasing murmur, Varang declared, “Not any more.”

In one quick swoop, Varang’s kuru attached to Neytiri’s, forcing tsaheylu and making a bond filled with nothing but pain as Neytiri fell forward, unable to do anything but surrender to Varang’s will with a shout, “Agh!”

“Put the knife down, ma’itan (my son),” Varang demanded as she yanked Neytiri’s head back, showing off to Neteyam the pain that was consuming her features. When Neteyam didn’t immediately act, rightfully stunned in place as he witnessed his mother being tortured, knowing the pain she was feeling since he had felt the exact same things not too long ago, Varang reached for one of her curved obsidian blades. Wrapping its edge around Neytiri’s neck, its sharpened curve kissing her skin, Varang warned, “Otherwise, I cut.”

Neteyam immediately acted at that, his knife dropping to the ground as his fingers instinctively loosed his hold around it. Clattering to the ground, the metal-on-metal slap echoed around the space, bringing a predator-like grin to Varang’s face as Neteyam conceded to her orders.

“Good,” she mused, breaking tsaheylu with Neytiri and allowing her to breathe but keeping her blade firmly pressed against her throat. “Now throw away your bow as well. And your arrows.”

Moving as soon as those words were spoken, Neteyam instantly reached for the quiver attached to his hip, ignoring the way Neytiri subtly shook her head at him, silently telling him not to give in, as he chucked it to the edge of the boat's deck. Not even a second later, Neteyam was unhooking his bow from over his shoulder and giving it the same treatment as his quiver.

“Thank you, ma’itan (my son), for not making this harder than it has to be,” Varang breathed a small sigh of relief, straightening to her full height as she felt some of the gathered tension of the day stream out of her. With a swoop of her free hand, she beckoned Neteyam over to her now that he was unharmed and posed no real threat to anyone, mumuring quietly as she did: “Now come, there is something I need you to do.”

Casting a sceptical look at the warriors surrounding the S-76 SeaDragon’s deck, all of whom were looking at Neteyam and the diadem he wore with expressions of betrayal or zeal, Neteyam took a few cautious steps towards Varang, never once lowering his hackles. 

“What is it?” he dejectedly muttered when he reached Varang, his ears folding against the sides of his head.

“You’re going to complete your Iknimaya here and now,” Varang declared, her head tipping upwards as she swelled with pride. Neteyam, however, had the complete opposite reaction as panic slammed into him like a rampaging Angtsìk (Hammerhead Titanothere). 

Feeling his shoulders begin to tremble at the prospect of what Varang just proposed, Neteyam attempted to back away, not wanting to be anywhere near Neytiri or Tuk. Two sets of hands quickly latched onto Neteyam’s shoulders before he could get very far, Ti’ol and one of the other nearby warriors holding him in place. 

“Mawey (Calm), ma’itan (my son),” Varang murmured with a roll of her eyes, exasperated by Neteyam’s uneasiness. Waving the two warriors off, Varang set her own heavy hand on the back of Neteyam’s neck, forcing him towards Neytiri as she pressed her thumb into one of the talon wounds Ti’ol’s Ska'avum (Nightwraith) had left. Propping her curved obsidian blade before the both of them, its point still wrapped around Neytiri’s neck, Varang offered the weapon to Neteyam, keeping a close eye on him. “All you have to do is kill this woman. Then you’ll be one of us forever.”

“I–” Neteyam bit out, his words dying halfway up his throat as he failed to finish his sentence. Swallowing thickly, he spared Neytiri and Tuk a quick glance, noticing the way Neytiri’s breathing had grown laboured, as if she was gearing up to try and do something, while Tuk’s face was consumed by nothing but fear. Licking his dry and cracked lips, Neteyam tried again to say, “I can’t.”

“But you will,” Varang rebutted, leaving no room for argument as she forced Neteyam closer to Neytiri, forcing him to take the blade with trembling hands. When the blade nearly slipped from Neteyam’s hand, his body physically fighting against him to not take hold of the weapon, Varang let out a loud, irritated scoff. “I’ve even made it easier for you, ma’itan (my son). Instead of killing all of the Sullys, you just have to kill this one.”

“Varang, I–” Neteyam tried, not being able to get very far before he was cut off.

“That is not how you address me,” Varang hissed lowly, pressing herself against Neteyam’s back and caging him between her, the obsidian weapon, and Neytiri’s kneeling frame. “Try again.”

“Tsahìk, I can’t,” Neteyam blurted, knowing that the title wasn’t necessarily what Varang wanted out of him, but it was close enough that she didn’t question him further. And it was a good thing she didn’t, because other than the stutters that were shaking his body, it was hard for Neteyam to get any words out in general. Still, he was able to definitely get out, “I won’t kill her.”

“If you don’t kill her, then you and the rest of them will die,” Varang shrieked in response, whirling her blade towards Neteyam’s neck in warning. And while Neteyam had to restrain himself from flinching, his eyes snapping shut for half a second, he had never been so happy to have a blade drawn on him. Especially when it meant his mother and sister didn’t have to undergo the same treatment, even if it were only momentarily. “Make your decision now, ma’itan (my son).”

And Neteyam had. Long before he stepped foot onto that boat, before war had reached Awa’atlu, hell, even before Neteyam realised he had never truly been one of the Mangkwan, he had made his decision. 

Sullys stick together.

“I guess you’ll just have to kill your ‘itan (son) then,” Neteyam gruffly said, accepting his fate and hoping it would serve as a long enough distraction for Neytiri and Tuk to escape. “Won’t you?”

“You depraved brat,” Varang snarled as soon as the words left Neteyam’s mouth, flinging him back and away from Neytiri so he now faced her. With a hand gripped around his throat, Varang forced Neteyam down, making him kneel before her as she brought her blade to his face, leaving it to hang mere inches away from his widened right eye. “I take you in, I rescue you, I make you my Tsakarem and teach you our ways, and this is how you repay me?”

A warning hiss was spat out from Neytiri’s lips at the action, but Varang paid her no mind, unwavering as Ti’ol reached for Neytiri and kept her constrained. Curling the fingers digging into Neteyam’s throat tighter, Varang yanked him forward, almost spearing his eye out with the tip of her blade if Neteyam hadn’t sealed his eyes shut out of fear and flinched away.

“I should’ve let you bleed out in the dirt instead of wasting my time on you,” Varang said with disgust lacing her words. And despite the current situation, despite Neteyam’s actions to actively betray Varang, and the lies she had fed him, Neteyam couldn’t help the way his heart twinged at that, knowing that the woman he had once seen as his mother now saw him as nothing more than a shameful indulgence. Lifting her curved obsidian blade up, Varang offered Neteyam one more moment of life before she let gravity take its toll and thrust the weapon towards Neteyam. “What a disappointment you turned out to be, ma’itan (my son)–”

A round of bullets pierced through the air, cutting through Varang’s speech and making everyone drop to the deck in an attempt to duck for cover. Neteyam couldn’t tell who they were coming from, but he had never felt so grateful to be in the presence of a trigger-happy individual as he felt his life be spared, even if it were only for a moment. 

It seemed Neytiri was hellbent on making that moment last though, as she disjointedly pushed herself up to her feet amidst the chaos, Ti’ol too busy trying to protect himself from the sweep of ammunition. Reaching a hand out to Tuk, Neytiri guided her towards a staircase, instructing her to run before she was turning back to Neteyam and forced him up to his feet. 

Latching onto her hand as soon as it appeared in front of his face, Neteyam followed after her, but not before yanking the extra blade off of Varang’s back and taking it with him.

Sprinting after Tuk, it doesn’t take them long to catch up to her, Neytiri sweeping her up into her arms. But because of Neytiri’s wounded state, it also doesn’t take long for Varang and Ti’ol to catch up to them as well, blocking off all of their exits as Ti’ol appeared in front of them, Varang taking up the rear. 

Pushing Neytiri and Tuk behind him before anything could happen, Neteyam took up a protective stance in front of them, constantly swivelling his head to keep both Varang and Ti’ol in his line of sight at all times. Even if Neytiri wanted to, Neteyam doubted she’d be able to do much right now, not when she was still reeling from the forced tsaheylu Varang had subjected her to. 

“Kill her,” Varang hissed, giving Neteyam one last opportunity to change his mind and secure himself a spot in the Mangkwan. It wouldn’t be hard to do so either, but Neteyam couldn’t. Wouldn’t. Even if it meant giving up Varang’s favour and any hopes of salvation. “Neteyam, kill her.”

“No,” he grit out, unwavering in the stance he had taken.

“Fine,” Varang sighed, disappointed. Unfortunately, Neteyam couldn’t help but share the sentiment. Perhaps in another life, where Varang hadn’t been scarred by the betrayal of their goddess, they could’ve been happy together as mother and son. Perhaps they could’ve done everything they wanted to without it all having to come down to this. But that life wasn’t this one. Pointing an accusing finger at Neteyam, Varang screeched, “Ti’ol, bring me his kuru.”

“Yes, Tsahìk,” Ti’ol happily called back, his eyes soaking Neteyam in before lunging. With a quick sweep of the Metkayina spear he had somehow stolen, Ti’ol charged him, ready to do whatever it took to take Neteyam’s life and remind Netetam why he had been one of Varang’s most favoured warriors. 

Raising Varang’s stolen blade to stop the first jab, Neteyam sneered at Ti’ol, his eyes darting over the man to try and find a weak point. His bandaged shoulder stood out as the obvious target, dried blood already coating the protective leaves there from misuse, but getting to it would be a problem, especially with such an elongated weapon like the one Ti’ol was using. He’d have to somehow get closer if he wanted to cause any damage. 

With his mind made up, Neteyam took a daring step towards Ti’ol with a wide sweep of the obsidian blade, forcing the man to take a step back. Ti’ol was quick to counter though, jamming his spear forward, moving it too fast for Neteyam to properly block it, resulting in a deep cut that tore through his bicep.

A pained hiss tore itself from Neteyam’s lips, his eyes squinting for half a second as a hand instinctively reached up to grab at the wound. Coating his fingers in blood, Neteyam’s attention was forced away from the wound when Ti’ol’s spear once again was rammed his way, this time the weapon aimed at his face. Shooting his bloodied hand out to grab it, Neteyam’s fingers curled around its sharpened edge, immediately cutting open the skin there as he redirected it away.

With every second that passed, Neteyam was coming to realise just why Varang had allowed Ti’ol to get away with so much treason: he was an incredible fighter. And while Neteyam didn’t have many Na’vi he could measure the warrior up to, there was no doubt in Neteyam’s mind that Ti’ol was far more skilled than he was, though that may have come with age and experience.

But there was one thing that separated them. One thing that Neteyam was proud of. 

Neteyam had something worth fighting for. His family. All while Ti’ol was acting on nothing more than the whims of a Tsahìk who didn’t care for him in hopes of climbing the Mangkwan’s hierarchy. 

Fueling himself with whatever determination, skill, or just pure luck that he needed to win, Neteyam threw himself towards Ti’ol without any regard for his body or what could happen to him. All he had to do was kill Ti’ol, and he would do that no matter what. 

Using his hold on Ti’ol’s spear to his advantage, Neteyam held the weapon in place, refusing to let go of it despite how Ti’ol tugged at the spear unrelentingly, grating its blade across the palm of Neteyam’s hand. When Ti’ol eventually realised that no amount of force would make Neteyam drop it, he abandoned the spear, instead going for Neteyam with his bare hands. Neteyam welcomed this, though.

Chucking the spear onto the ground, Neteyam balled up his right hand and ruthlessly plunged it forward, the man being caught off guard by the Sky Person style of attack as Neteyam’s fist came in contact with the side of his jaw. 

Momentarily stunned, Ti’ol left himself wide open, allowing for Neteyam to tackle him to the ground and pin him down. Not going down without a fight, Ti’ol jammed his open palm into Neteyam’s chin, forcing his head up and exposing his neck. Neteyam didn’t need to see Ti’ol, though. Not when that would make what he was about to do harder. 

Reaching a hand blindly down towards Ti’ol’s back, using his own body weight to try and keep him in place, Neteyam grabbed at the man's kuru. The pressure of his hand on Ti’ol’s braid was more than enough to turn the tides of this fight, Ti’ol’s body going dangerously still under Neteyam.

“Neteyam,” Ti’ol breathed out, panic weaving its way into his voice for the first time since the Omatikayan boy had met him. A slight tremble began to pick its way up into Ti’ol’s bones, his body vibrating with fear as Neteyam pulled his kuru closer towards himself, the curved blade he had stolen from Varang hooking itself around the braid. When the call of his name did nothing to slow Neteyam, Ti’ol attempted to plead to him, “You don’t have to do this. Join us.”

But he did. Neteyam knew that, and Ti’ol knew that. It was either him or the family Neteyam had been working so hard to remember. That didn’t make it any easier, especially when Ti’ol was staring up at him with an unshakable expression, his body beginning to violently shake in an attempt to get away from him. 

“I’m sorry,” Neteyam couldn’t help but whisper, his bottom lip trembling as if it were he who was about to have their kuru cut. 

With one final breath in an attempt to steady himself, Neteyam yanked the blade back, forcing himself to cut through Ti’ol’s kuru and sever it completely. 

A pained scream tore itself from Ti’ol’s throat at the action, his body beginning to seize as it went into shock at the action. And because Neteyam couldn’t stand the sight of it, not wanting to see the man suffer despite everything he had done to him, Neteyam took Varang’s blade and plunged it into his chest, cutting off any pain that Ti’ol would’ve been feeling because of the lost kuru in an instant.

For a moment, all Neteyam can do is stare at what he had done, his right hand still holding onto Ti’ol’s kuru tightly, even as it hung limply. Blood was squirting out from the Mangkwan warrior’s chest, small speckles of it landing on Neteyam’s legs from where they were positioned on either side of the wound. 

He had killed him. Ti’ol was dead. No longer would Neteyam have to try to evade Ti’ol’s taunting words, or his wondering hands, or his attempts to get closer to Neteyam than the Omaticayan boy would ever reasonably want, because he had died at Neteyam’s hand. He would never find a mate, or become Olo’eyktan, or take another breath, because Neteyam had stolen that from him. 

Carefully extracting himself from Ti’ol’s body, Neteyam tugged the blade out from his chest. Dragging the obsidian weapon and Ti’ol’s kuru with him, Neteyam turned to face Varang with a look that could only be described as pure hatred and disgust.

Stalking his way back over to Neytiri and Tuk, the former of the two staring at Neteyam in horror while the latter had her face buried away in her mother’s neck, Neteyam chucked the severed kuru towards Varang when he reached their side, watching as the braid dropped limply at the Tsahík’s feet. He didn’t stop there, though. No. Neteyam raised the bloodied blade he had stolen, Varang’s own weapon being coated in the blood of her men, as he pointed it towards her.

“Let us leave, Varang,” Neteyam all but begged, his chest rising and falling in laboured breaths as the damage done to his body began to catch up to him. “Please.”

“You know I can’t do that, ma’itan (my son),” Varang murmured, her eyes wide as they darted between the kuru at her feet and the tarnished blade being held towards her. Neteyam could see the gears turning in her head, her mind calculating the perfect way that she could play this so she ended up on top. But Neteyam wouldn’t let that happen. Not again. “But you can come with me, Neteyam. You could be a fine warrior one day. Let me guide you, let me teach you the Mangkwan way fully, and you could be unstoppable, ma’itan (my son)–”

“I’m not your son,” he hissed, face scrunching in displeasure at once again being called by the fake title. There had once been a time when those simple words felt like a praise to Neteyam, but now they brought him nothing but dread, reminding him of all the wrong he had done and the pain he had brought. He had to set this straight. “My father is Jake Sully. Born as one of the Sky People and formerly being of the Jarhead Clan before he learned the ways of the Omatikaya, he underwent great struggle to transform and become one of the people. Now he is regarded as Toruk Makto.”

Neteyam’s declaration brought a loud hiss of her own from Varang’s lips, almost as if his words had physically pained her. Good, Neteyam thought. Maybe now she’d know how it felt to want to claw at his skin until he was raw and bleeding because of someone calling him something he wasn’t. 

“And my mother is Neytiri te Tskaha Mo'at'ite,” Neteyam pushed on, not allowing Varang’s display to deter him. Spearing his mother a glance, Neteyam couldn’t help but reach a hand out towards her, her chilled fingers instantly coming in contact with his blood-soaked ones, clasping on as if he were her lifeline instead of the other way around. With so much pride in his chest, Neteyam recalled, “Former Tsakarem of the Omatikaya, before she gave it up to be with my father, and the first in our clan to ride a Palulukan (Thanator).”

Whipping his head back towards Varang though, Neteyam refused to allow himself to get swept away, not when this was it.

“But you, Varang, are nothing but an imposter,” he growled, teeth bearing as he finally spat the truth to her, no longer being blind enough to be swept away in her web of lies. He saw her for what she truly was. “A liar who I will never bow to again.”

“Then you die here,” Varang shouted with little remorse, ready to lunge at Neteyam and take him while he was weak, when a gunshot went off, making everyone flinch back and Varang stumble as the clap of thunder seemed a bit too close to her for comfort. 

Blazing past the four of them, the bullet ricocheted off the metal walls of the S-76 SeaDragon, stealing everyone's attention as they all turned to see where the noise had come from. And there, perched at the top of the small staircase Neteyam, Neytiri and Tuk had all run through in an attempt to escape, was Lo’ak standing tall and proud with a gun aimed at Varang.

“You know what this is,” he warned, his brows tugged down into a deep socwl at he bared his teeth at Varang, more than ready to make good on his threat as he kept Varang within his line of fire. “Now leave my family alone.”

Staring the gun down for a second, Varang heavily contemplated her odds, seeing what chances she had at survival if she decided to detest Lo’ak. But when it seemed the bad heavily outweighed the good, Varang took a hesitant step back. Then another. And another. Soon, those few hesitant steps turned into a full retreat as she stumbled back, flashing Neteyam one last scathing glance, committing his traitorous face to memory one last time, before turning away and fully fleeing the scene. 

The whole time she ran, Neteyam watched after her, his ears folding back slightly as he watched the woman he had once considered a mother disappear from his life for what would hopefully be for good. Even though Neteyam knew he shouldn’t, he couldn’t help but feel a small, empty pit in his heart, a void being created to mark the space Varang had carved out for herself–

“Hey, Bro, you okay?” Lo’ak asked after checking over Neytiri and Tuk, his worried eyes boring into Neteyam as he made his way over to his older brother and took in the series of cuts and gashes that were littering his skin. Snapping his head towards Lo’ak, Neteyam felt an indescribable amount of warmth flood him, momentarily putting out the fire Varang had lit in him. “You need to get to Kiri or something, you look like shit–”

“Lo’ak,” Neteyam practically sobbed as he threw himself at his younger brother, their bodies smacking against one another as Lo’ak scrambled to let go of the gun he was carrying and wrap his arms around Neteyam. “My baby brother, I– she– I–”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Lo’ak quickly prattled out, his eyes shooting over Neteyam’s shoulder to Neytiri as he silently begged for help, not knowing what to do with his arms full of a hyperventilating Neteyam. Picking up on the signals she was being sent, Neytiri quickly acted, carrying Tuk with her as she came up behind Neteyam and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, being careful of his injuries as she pulled him (and, subsequently, Lo’ak) close. “We’ve got you.”

And they did. With Neytiri’s soothing hand brushing against his skin, Lo’ak’s arms tightly holding in place (not that he wanted to go anywhere), and Tuk snuggling into his braids since that was the only part of him that she could reach, Neteyam was engulfed by half of his family, keeping him secure while his body racked itself with the realisation of what had just happened. 

It was done. The Mangkwan had more or less been driven away, Ti’ol was dead, and the war was coming to an end. Everything that Neteyam had wanted to achieve had been accomplished. And while the RDA and Mangkwan knew where they were, they would most likely think twice before ever attempting to come back to Awa’atlu’s shores for a round two. 

But what about Ao’nung? Neteyam hadn’t seen him since he kicked him into the ocean. Was he okay? Hopefully, he hadn’t been injured on the way down. And even if he hadn’t, would he ever want to be around Neteyam again after he just threw him aside like he was trash? Surely he–

“But actually, we don’t got you,” Lo’ak sheepishly cut through Neteyam’s thoughts, pulling away from him as three sets of confused eyes turned to land on him. Disheartened immediately at the loss of contact, Neteyam tried not to let it show as he listened to what Lo’ak had to say, wanting to get to the bottom of this so they could quickly get away from the Sky People and reunite with the rest of their family (and soon-to-be family, in Ao’nung’s case). With a hand scratching at the back of his neck, Lo’ak murmured, “Because I saw Dad go after Spider and Quaritch not too long ago, and they haven’t come back yet, so I think we should probably check on them…”

“What?” Neytiri barked out, her face twisting into a blind rage as she took in the new information. With a loud whoop, she called for Sa’ata, not needing a second more to think and make up her mind before she was charging into action. Before she went though, Neytiri turned a quick eye to Lo’ak, demanding, “Lo’ak, take your siblings to see the Tsahík and Kiri. I need to go take care of that demon.”

“No, Mother, I can come with you,” Neteyam immediately objected, convincing no one as they all took in his heavily worn-out state. “Please, I need to see this through.”

“Ugh, alright,” Neytiri huffed with little objection, knowing that Neteyam would not be deterred regarding a matter like this, and that it was pointless to try and change his mind. That didn’t mean she would be happy about it, fixing him with a sharp glare as she instructed, “But I better not see you trying to do anything brave, oeyä hì'i tsamsiyu (my little warrior). Otherwise, you’ll be in ever more trouble.”

“I won’t,” Neteyam smiled, relieved. “I promise.”

“Good,” Neytiri nodded once before they were being interrupted by Sa’ata landing just behind the woman, her head quickly turning and her legs dragging her towards the Ikran. Planting Tuk in Sa’ata’s saddle, Neytiri climbed on behind her, ready to take to the skies. “Now, let’s not waste time. We must go.”

After that, Neteyam and Lo’ak were quick to do the same, calling for their own Ikran so they could begin following Neytiri as she tracked their father. But where Lo’ak’s Ikran came quickly, Neteyam noticed Telisi staggering behind. 

For the first time since he had last seen her, Neteyam remembered the wound that had been dealt her way by Ti’ol when he had intercepted him and Ao’nung, blindly trying to make a jab at Neteyam and instead hurting his Ikran. Feeling his heart drop to his stomach, Neteyam worried that the cut may have been more severe than he had initially thought, only for his thoughts to be cut off by a determined squwawk. 

Snapping his head towards the noise, Neteyam saw Telisi struggling to fly over to him. But despite the pain and irritation that her back was surely causing her, Telisi made her way over to Neteyam, refusing to give in. 

Rushing over to her as soon as she touched down on the S-76 SeaDragons deck, Neteyam took her head into his hands and pressed their foreheads together. 

“Hey, Girl,” Neteyam timidly whispered, running a hand along Telisi’s neck in comfort. The Ikran quickly gave in to Neteyam’s touch, nuzzling as close as she could physically manage without knocking the other down. The action pulled a small laugh from Neteyam, the noise tired and strained, but filled with joy nonetheless. “I’ve missed you so much, and I’m so sorry for what I’ve done to you.”

A few chirps were let out in response to Neteyam’s words, Telisi unbashfully making as much noise as she possibly could, as if to replicate Neteyam’s way of talking. Whenever she got like this, Neteyam liked to pretend he could properly understand her, normally interpreting her ‘words’ as complaints as she chided Neteyam for whatever he had done now. And as Telisi shuffled her wings uncontrollably, Neteyam was sure that was exactly what she was doing right now.

“I know, I know,” he huffed, accepting the blame for Eywa knows what as he scratched his fingers along the underside of Telisi’s jaw, searching for that one spot she particularly liked. “But can you be brave for me for just a little bit longer? After that, I promise we’ll get your back looked at, and it’ll be nothing but lazy days and endless fruit until you’re all better. Okay?”

With a heavy sigh and a flutter of her wings, Neteyam knew Telisi had accepted his proposal, offering her back to him without a second thought.

“Thank you,” Neteyam sighed, allowing their heads to rest against each other for a few more seconds before carefully making his way into Telisi’s saddle, making sure to be extra mindful of her wounds and the obsidian blade he was still carrying. 

Making tsaheylu, Telisi instantly knew what to do, trailing after Neytiri and Lo’ak, even if it were from a great distance, as they made their way to Jake. The flight wasn’t a long one, simply going skywards towards a few floating mountains where Quaritch and Jake had moved the fight, but it was still an anxious one, Neteyam spending the whole time worrying about what sort of state he’d find his father in.

Landing haphazardly next to where Lo’ak had perched his Ikran, already dismounting from its back and raising his gun, Neteyam brazenly followed after him, not housing the same regard to his own injuries as he did Telisi’s as he threw himself forward, pointing Varang’s discarded blade before he even truly knew what he was looking at.

But as soon as Neteyam had found some proper grounding, the world no longer feeling as if it were swaying as he stood fiercely next to his brother, ready to attack if anything dared step towards him, Neteyam was glad he had taken up the defensive stance. Because there in front of him, corners as Neytiri trained her own blade at him, was Quarich, lying next to Jake, looking completely spent and as if all the fight had been drained out of him. 

“You,” the uniltìrantokx (dreamwalker / avatar) drawled as soon as his eyes landed on Neteyam, his face pinching into a deep scowl. Immediately bristling under Quaritch’s gaze, Neteyam let out a low hiss, knowing that he had to be just as careful with the man as any of the other Mangkwan, if not more, due to how close he had gotten to Varang. But Quaritch seemed to not care for anything Neteyam had to do, bitterly sneering, “I really thought you’d be able to pull through after our little chat, but I guess you’ve got too much of your daddy’s blood running through your veins to be anything worthwhile.”

“Don’t speak to him, Demon,” Neytiri snapped, her eyes wide and wild as she took a threatening step forward, ready to attack. She purposely didn’t shoot Jake a glance, knowing she’d get lost in the fact that her mate was sitting idly beside the man instead of doing anything to kill him. 

“Heh,” Quaritch laughed humorously, taking in the scene before him now with almost bored eyes. Neteyam didn’t understand how the man could behave in such a way in such a situation, especially when it was his life on the line. But just like how he regarded Neteyam, he seemed to not care for what was about to happen. Allowing his gaze to linger on Neteyam for a few extra seconds, Quaritch pushed himself up and murmured, “Well, ain’t this a bitch?” before shoving himself backwards, allowing his body to free-fall off the formation.

“No,” Spider yelled, almost tumbling over the ledge with Quaritch as he peered over the side to try and see what had happened. And while Neteyam felt for the boy, not really understanding the relationship between the two, but knowing they had one if their encounter in the swamp when Neteyam and the Mangkwan had taken them prisoner was anything to go by, Neteyam himself couldn’t find it in himself to care, not when there was a much more important matter to be dealt with. 

Spotting Jake begin to push himself up carefully, his eyes darting between everyone still standing on the ledge, counting their presences and cataloguing them, Neteyam forced himself to move forward even if his body screamed at him to do otherwise. 

Feeling Jake’s eyes land on him, Neteyam couldn’t help but preen under the relief that washed over Jake’s face, even if it was short-lived as he took in the state that Neteyam was reduced to. Though, if he tried to say anything, Neteyam would’ve been quick to bring up Jake’s own wounds, the man not seeming to be faring much better.

“Dad,” Neteyam called out when his father was nothing but an arm’s length away, his legs giving out from beneath him as he went crashing forward. But just like every other time since Neteyam had been made aware of Jake’s existence, he was there to catch him, tugging Neteyam quickly into his arms and pulling him close. Feeling exhaustion consume him, Neteyam fought to say, “I did it. I kept my promise.”

“You did,” Jake nodded, taking the two of them to the floor where he allowed them to rest, Neteyam staying firmly in his embrace the entire time. Glancing over Neteyam’s wounds, Jake couldn’t help but suck in a sharp breath, an almost phantom pain washing over him for not being able to protect Neteyam. But he couldn’t let it show, not when Neteyam was beaming up at him, proud beyond belief at making it here. “Oh, Babyboy, you did.”

Jake would get Neteyam home soon. He would make this right very soon. And as he felt Neytiri, Lo’ak, Tuk and Spider saddle up behind him, all crowding into his and Neteyam’s space without a second thought, Jake knew that the rest of the Sullys were just as determined as he was to bring peace back to Neteyam.

With one final beaming smile, Neteyam declared to them all as his eyes slipped shut, “I came back again.”

AUTHOR'S NOTE: For some reason I’ve randomly gained the addiction of saying skibidi toilet at odd times…

Freezing as soon as the rest of his body caught up with the new information that his brain had supplied, Neteyam felt his mind go blank. Abandoning him, like always, when he needed it most. 

Feeling his breath hitch as the frame against his began to shuffle closer, Neteyam’s eyes burst open. Despite his body trying to force himself to squint at the vividness that was blinding the room, Neteyam prevailed, not allowing that urge to win as he took in the scene that was before him. 

There, lying in his arms, was a sleeping Tuktirey. With her hair fanned across Neteyam’s chest and her face smushed into his skin, she lay at peace. 

At the sight, Neteyam felt his heart burst. He had almost forgotten that last night had ended in a pile of limbs tangled together on the floor of the Sully’s mauri. Having been engulfed into their peculiar traditions before Neteyam’s mind could even catch up with what was happening, it was only natural that by the time he returned to the world of the living that some of the events of the nights prior would’ve slipped from his memory. But, like always, Tuk was there to remind and ground him in the moment.

Sticking to him like nectar, Tuk’s hold on Neteyam was unwavering, almost as if at some point during the night someone had attempted to remove her from his arms. Due to the strength of the hold, Neteyam was almost under the impression that what Tuk was doing was an act of protectiveness. Holding him close so that he couldn’t slip away. 

The idea of that almost made Neteyam laugh, burying his face into Tuk’s short braids to stifle any sound from escaping his lips. But with every second that Neteyam remained there, he realised that the concept of Tuk housing some possessive instinct over him now that he was back wasn’t so far-fetched. 

Because she wasn’t the only one doing it. All around him, Neteyam could feel them.

With a hand planted firmly on the small of his back, Neteyam could feel his mother’s comforting hold from behind him. Every few seconds, Neteyam could feel Neytiri’s slowed breaths fanning against his skin from where her forehead had been pressed into the space between his shoulder blades. Just like Tuk, there was a shielding curl to the way she leaned into Neteyam, quietly keeping him close so that any movements from him would immediately send her into high alert. Or, better yet, so that nothing could reach him. 

Neteyam was slightly surprised he hadn’t woken her yet. It wasn’t exactly like he was trying to be careful when he woke up, still beady-eyed as his sluggish brain tried to figure out why he was on the floor instead of his hammock back in his and Ao’nung’s shared mauri. He wasn’t complaining, though. Not if it meant he got to enjoy the quiet morning in the presence of his relaxed family. 

On that note, the pinnacle of relaxation could be seen in front of Neteyam’s very own eyes. With an unburdened peace to his figure that Neteyam doesn’t believe he’s seen before while the man was awake, Jake slept on the other side of Neteyam, acting as a wall as he was barricaded in between his two parents. 

With his guard dropped and an ease to his frame, Jake seemed as if he were getting the best night of sleep he had had in a while. And, just as Tuk and Neytiri had been doing, there was a subtle point of contact between them, keeping Neteyam close without being overbearing. With a broad, five-fingered hand, Jake had planted his firm hold right over Neteyam’s bullet wound, covering the splotchy skin there as his body worked to fully heal the hole that had been carved into his chest. 

It seemed, almost without meaning to, that Jake was trying to offer his own services up to Neteyam. His steady hand set on helping Neteyam heal, even if his hold had no healing remedies attached to it. Almost as if he was making up for any lost time.

That realisation had a heavy breath forcing itself from Neteyam as the thought came washing over him, his eyes darting between where Jake’s hand met his skin and the small smile that had been etched onto the man’s lips. It was undeniable how proud Jake seemed to be just from that contact alone, making Neteyam wonder if that–if he–had been the reason Jake seemed so at peace. Because Neteyam was there to ground him, just as they had all been doing for him?

No. That was a silly idea. It made much more sense that Jake was just pleased to have his family with him. Neteyam should’ve just been an afterthought. 

With a slight sourness to his mood that Neteyam was more than happy to blame on his early awakening, he attempted to roll over slightly, hoping to get more comfortable with a dying wish of returning to his slumber again. But when Neteyam shifted, his arms cocooning Tuk to not jostle her too much, he felt the three bodies surrounding him stiffen momentarily at the sudden change. 

Biting the inside of his cheek as he went dangerously still, Neteyam willed his parents and youngest sister to remain asleep. From where he was sandwiched between his parents, Neteyam could hear the way Neytiri’s breath faltered, growing shallower as her drowsy body tried to figure out what was going on. The same could be said for Jake, as his hand pushed firmly into Neteyam’s chest, quietly returning him to the previous position he had been lying in. And Tuk, well, she just snuggled in closer to Neteyam, uncaring for what he did as long as she remained close by.

But that subtle movement, rearranging Neteyam until he was exactly where they wanted him to be, seemed to be enough to bring a glowing serenity breezing through the mauri once more. Returning those who had been stirred back to a tranquil doze as they waited for a more reasonable time to get up.

Although Neteyam was glad that none of his family was truly awoken from his restlessness, he couldn’t help but feel that same bitterness from before take over his being. Coiling inside of him until he finally took hold of something tangible. Only, this time it wasn’t aimed at his own suppressed self-righteousness or how his family clung to him in a way that soothed their own scars instead of his.

It was aimed at the fact that he wanted to go back to bed but couldn’t unless he wanted to wake someone else. 

And he wasn’t selfish enough to try to trade places with another.

So, resigned to his fate of another early morning after barely getting a night of full sleep, Neteyam settled into the warmth that was circling him and let his eyes scan the mauri. If he wouldn’t be allowed to sleep, he’d at least try to make sense of the fact that his family seemed to be relishing in his company. 

Craning his head ever so slightly, whilst making sure the rest of his body stayed perfectly still so he wouldn’t have any more close calls, Neteyam surveyed the room. There were a few bodies he had yet to see, or, better yet, had failed to make direct contact with him. But Neteyam knew they’d be somewhere close. And as Neteyam took a quick look around, he was easily made aware of their positioning throughout the mauri.

Pressed against Jake’s back, Lo’ak had somehow found himself sprawled halfway across the older man. With his limbs thrown wide and his mouth hanging open as a small dribble of drool drifted from his lips, he seemed to be off in his own world.

Neteyam could already feel a grimace setting itself onto his face as he took in how Lo’ak was lying. There was no doubt in his mind that when Lo’ak finally awoke (if he even could, since he seemed to be sleeping like the dead), he’d have a painful reminder in the form of a deep ache settling in his neck for how he had mistreated his body for choosing to sleep in such a way. 

Next to him, with his head resting on one of Lo’ak’s legs, using it as a pillow, was Spider. It was a bit hard to make out his form since Jake and Lo’ak were predominantly blocking Neteyam’s view of him, but he could just catch a glimpse of the way the Sky Person’s dreads were limply covering his face, some muffled snores falling from his lips and threatening to disturb the silence that had been built up in the mauri.

Then, sleeping at his feet and curled into a small ball on her side was his adopted sister, Kiri. 

Unlike Jake, Neytiri and Tuk, who were making explicit contact with Neteyam, or Lo’ak and Spider, who Neteyam was sure would be doing the exact same thing if they had been able to weasel their way into Neteyam’s space, Kiri kept her hands to herself. 

That single choice, keeping Neteyam close without putting any physical restraint on him, had Neteyam’s nonexistent brows wobbling as something inside of him shifted.

Neteyam didn’t know if he should feel honoured or annoyed by the contact, in all honesty. While it showed he was deeply treasured by his family, something that he had always been quietly longing for, it also showed their lack of trust. He just couldn’t work out if that was because of him or the world they lived in. 

If they couldn’t bear to trust him after all he had done, Neteyam would understand–

No. He had to stop thinking like that.

This was his family. They weren’t holding on to him because they were uncertain of what Neteyam might do when their backs were turned. They were holding on to him because they cherished him so deeply that they couldn’t stand the thought of him going away again. By his own free will or force, the idea of Neteyam leaving them for a third time was too much for them.

Their closeness wasn’t an act of unfaithfulness stemming from all the wrong Neteyam had brought them, but evidence of how much they had missed him. It was a silent, unknowing, and unintentional act that pieced them all together. Making them whole.

Turning his gaze away from his parents and siblings, Neteyam instead focused on the woven ceiling above him, soaking it all in. Soaking them all in.

Blinking his eyes a few times, Neteyam found that there was a dewiness to them that hadn’t previously been there. A moistened, soggy, water-clogged dew that brimmed his lashes and threatened to spill free. Eywa, what a mess he had become. All because of the love he was being granted despite not earning it, as he banked on the goodwill of a previous version of himself.

Maybe he shouldn’t be the one who should be cherished, but the one doing the cherishing. That was much more fitting for the situation Neteyam had somehow found himself engulfed in. And, as the Omatikayan boy took another look around the mauri, noticing how the Na’vi within it were unconsciously curled towards him, Neteyam found himself liking that idea a whole lot more.

It’s with that shift though, the quiet click of hundreds of puzzle pieces floating around Neteyam’s brain finally slotting together, that Neteyam wasn’t the only one awake as the sun finally rose to its full height. 

Basking the entirety of Awa’atlu in a golden hue, it was only natural that the village's inhabitants would begin to wake. And, as the only early riser within the Sully family (unless it was Tuk when she had a carefully thought-out plan that she had to enact), Neytiri shuffled from behind Neteyam. 

Removing her hand from the small of his back, Neytiri slowly sat up, careful as to not make any unnecessary ripples within the room. Neteyam silently watched Neytiri as she moved without fuss, ready to go about her day and pull their family into shape as she collected herself. But instead of beginning her normal routine as her eyes scanned over the room, taking into account the still resting bodies that were piled up, she paused. 

She paused with her golden irises boring into Neteyam’s own matching pair. 

Feeling himself gulp at being put under a magnifying glass, despite him doing exactly that just a few moments prior to the rest of his family, Neteyam felt himself unwillingly falter under Neytiri’s stare. With his tail twitching slightly under the attention, and his ears folding towards his head against his wishes, Neteyam was silently at the women’s mercy.

But, instead of using the submissive tilt of Neteyam’s chin to her advantage to make him comply, something Varang would’ve done in less than a heartbeat, Neytiri only smiled kindly at him. 

Shifting closer to him, undeterred by the owlish eyes that were peering up at her, Neytiri reached a hand out to him. Delicately brushing a few strands of his braids behind his ear, her face twinkled with amusement when the appendage flickered with interest. “How long have you been awake, oeyä hì'i tsamsiyu (my little warrior)?” she asked not even a second later. 

Taking one long blink up at his mother, Neteyam felt his brain short-circuit at the contact. Even if he had experienced that very action a hundred times before now, remembering only a handful and living through even fewer, Neteyam forgot momentarily how to function as he felt Neytiri’s fingers curl gently against his cheek. 

Mindful of where Tuk’s head rested just under Neteyam’s chin, and where her mate’s hand was securely fastened over Neteyam’s wound, she handled Neteyam with a certain degree of care that he didn’t ever think he’d get used to.

“Not long,” Neteyam finally uttered after a few seconds too long, pulling the words out from thin air since his brain was intent on not cooperating. Not being able to help himself, Neteyam leaned into Neytiri’s hold, allowing his eyes to slip shut for a few moments as he nuzzled into her feather-light fingers. If he could, Neteyam was more than content to spend the rest of his day like that. But, unfortunately, he knew there were more pressing matters at hand. Concerns that couldn’t be so easily swept away. “Just a couple of minutes.”

“Hm,” Neytiri acknowledged with a soft hum. Her thumb slowly trailed down across Neteyam’s cheekbone as she pondered Neteyam’s words and his state of consciousness, absentmindedly drawing small circles into his skin as she did so. The action had one of Neteyam’s eyes gingerly peeling open, attempting to peer into Neytiri’s thought process. “It is unlike you to be up so early.”

Neteyam stayed silent at the statement, not really knowing how to respond since he couldn’t argue that it was an odd occurrence. Upon meeting Neteyam, it would quickly be discovered that if the Omatikayan boy was left undisturbed, he would remain asleep until his body had finally made up for all the physical grief it had been put through. 

And, if it hadn’t already been made clear by the way Tuk had to drag him from his hammock a few mornings ago, Neteyam had learned that most of his friends and family had little hope for him ever waking up at a reasonable hour in the morning. 

Even when he was with the Mangkwan, he wouldn’t rouse until the afternoon if he was left unattended. Usually, to avoid that happening, Azay would slip into his yurt before anyone could notice his absent figure and get to work on pulling him from his slumber. That would normally result in a groggy and grumpy Tsakarem attending to his duties, but at least he was awake.

It was one of his only many flaws. 

It was also why Neytiri felt the need to inspect Neteyam immediately upon waking and finding him still in their mauri, but also wide awake. 

Lifting her hand from Neteyam’s cheek, the boy barely having a second to mourn the lost contact, Neytiri set her sights on a new task. Extracting Tuk from Neteyam’s arms, his face furrowing in confusion as to why their mother would separate them, Neytiri handed the sleeping girl off to Jake, using his grasp over Neteyam to instead lock onto Tuk. 

Pulling Neteyam up next until he was sitting on his haunches, Neytiri shuffled in closer to Neteyam, taking hold of him in a similar manner to how he had been handling Tuk. With a muffled coo as Neytiri buried her face into Neteyam’s braids, he felt his guard drop. Fully surrendering to Neytiri’s warm embrace. 

“Does something trouble you?” Neytiri finally asked after securing herself to Neteyam. Kneading her fingers into Neteyam’s shoulder, where one of her hands had possessively curled, she did her best to gently coax an answer out of him. Never pushing too hard or digging too deep into the seams, Neytiri patiently waited for what Neteyam had to offer. Though she made it known that she was ready to listen. “I know a lot has happened in the past week, and that must’ve been hard on you. But if you’re losing sleep because of it, please let us know so we can help you.”

“It’s nothing like that, Sa’nok (Mother),” Neteyam was quick to reassure, placing his own hand atop of Neytiri’s and giving it a soft squeeze. The last thing Neteyam wanted right now was Neytiri, or anyone else, for that matter, worrying about him when there were larger forces at play. He shouldn’t have been important enough to be at the top of their list of concerns. With a tight-lipped smile, he said, “I think I woke up early because I’m no longer used to sleeping in here. But it’s fine.”

Neytiri must not have agreed with that statement, though. If the way her eyes silently narrowed at the confession was anything to go by, and the way she pulled away from Neteyam slightly, trying to get a better look at him, it was easy for Neteyam to guess that the woman could see right through him. 

Flicking her gaze over Neteyam’s face, Neytiri studied her son for a moment. And while Neteyam didn’t think his features gave anything in particular away, his expression must’ve been speaking louder than any words he could string together or the thoughts that clouded his mind. With her own face dropping into a worn-thin frown, Neytiri stated, leaving no room for objection, “But there’s something else that plagues your mind.”

Instinctively, Neteyam’s ears folded back at the declaration, taking it more as an accusation than anything else. With his chin tilting down and his bottom lip jutting out into a pout, he looked every bit of the guilt he had been carrying since the Mangkwan showed up in Awa’atlu. Guilt that was clear for everyone to see. 

“What is it?” his mother asked, stooping her head down to try and catch Neteyam’s eye. 

“I just…” he sighed, feeling his whole body droop from the weight he had been holding onto and finally being seen for carrying it. Nervously, Neteyam said, “Sometimes I worry about all the danger I’ve brought to this family. To Awa’atlu. No one here deserves the trouble that I’ve put them through. That I’ll continue to put them through when war reaches these beaches.”

“No one blames you for what has happened, Neteyam,” Neytiri murmured, feeling her heart sink as she was finally made privy to what Neteyam had been feeling. “This is Eywa’s path for us. She may work in mysterious ways, but the Great Mother will not lead us astray.”

“But what if she has?” Neteyam hesitantly said, knowing from his experience with Kiri that speaking ill of the Great Mother could turn bad very quickly. But Neytiri didn’t act with the same all-seeing confidence that his sister had, instead taking his words into consideration with a small furrow to her face. “Varang would always tell me that Eywa had turned her back on me, that’s why I don’t have any of my memories.”

Neteyam’s theory had a small gasp falling from Neytiri’s lips as soon as he had spewed it into existence. Her hand, that had previously been blanketed by Neteyam’s own, quickly adjusted itself, taking his slim fingers into her own grasp so that she could hold them close. 

She didn’t believe him. Or, better yet, Neytiri didn’t want to believe Neteyam. The silent objection of her head shaking rapidly was a clear sign of that, almost as if she were foreboding that idea from even being real. But, even with her protest to the truth that Neteyam had steadily made peace with, she didn’t dare speak. Didn’t dare to utter a single thing. But, with her reserve, it only gave Neteyam room to continue:

“Maybe she had been lying back then,” he said, with very little belief in what he was actually saying. Varang may have been a liar, Neteyam not being able to place his finger on a single moment from the time they spent together where she had been telling the truth, but she was no idiot. She had helped him see the power of the fire, to control it, through the beauty and destruction it could bring. But with that, he had changed. He may still share some qualities with the Na’vi who had devoted himself to Eywa, but it had been a long time since he was that boy. “But I’ve done bad things, Sa’nok (Mother). Things that even the Great Mother can’t forgive.”

“So screw her,” the gruff, half-asleep voice of Jake Sully filtered through the room, cutting sharply through the conversation Neteyam and Neytiri were having and effectively putting it to a stop without even trying to. 

Cautiously turning to face Jake upon hearing those three words exit his mouth, there was a moment of silence that passed through the air. 

Had Jake just suggested they disregard Eywa? Of all things he could’ve said, and of all people who could’ve articulated what he had, that was what Jake had chosen to say? Sure, maybe if Neteyam hadn’t been professing his deepest thoughts that had been plaguing his thoughts for hours now, he’d have thought what Jake said was funny. But he was confessing all his troubles. 

So, with matching looks of horror stretched across their features, making Neteyam look every bit of Neytiri’s son, the two who had previously been locked in a hushed conversation regarded Jake with appalled stares. Neteyam’s jaw even went so far as to drop a little. 

Completely disregarding the way Jake sat leisurely with Tuk sprawled across his lap, Lo’ak somehow haphazardly leaned against his back behind him as he blinked tiredly, almost unaware of what was going on, Neytiri quietly hissed, disturbed by the ‘bright idea’ her mate had thought was a good idea to share, “Ma’Jake!”

“What?” he dumbly asked. Earning an enraged scoff from Neytiri in response to his question, the woman narrowing her eyes dangerously thin as she was reminded of the many hours she had spent attempting to teach Jake just how deep Eywa’s roots ran years ago, the reformed Sky Person merely shrugged his shoulders. While this probably wasn’t the best course of action Jake could’ve taken, earning a low warning hiss from Neytiri in response, it piqued Neteyam’s interest, his body subconsciously gravitating forward as he waited to hear more.

Removing Tuk briskly from his lap and placing her next to Kiri, allowing her to cling onto a new Na’vi and stay tucked away in whatever peaceful dream she was having, Jake abandoned his spot, not bothering to offer Lo’ak the same courtesy as the boy flailed to the ground, hitting the woven flooring with a puffed-out argh.

Shuffling over to Neteyam, this time at least trying to be a bit more cautious of the sleeping boys behind him, Jake situated himself at Neteyam’s side, resting a grounding hand on his back. If the situation had been any different, Neteyam would’ve almost thought his father was trying to reassure him and his place within Eywa’s love. Only, Jake’s eyes weren’t fixated on Neteyam. Instead, he was staring down Neytiri as he asked, “Eywa sees everything, doesn’t she?”

“...Yes,” Neytiri hesitated, not for her lack of faith, but her doubt in where her husband was planning on leading this conversation after his odd choice of words upon waking. “But–”

“Then she should know that Neteyam didn’t willingly go to the Mangkwan,” Jake pushed forth, ignoring Neytiri’s grunt at cutting her off. The amount of certainty that was backing up Jake’s words had Neteyam swallowing thickly, not believing his ears as the man came to his defence. “And she should also know that he was doing what he needed to do to survive. If she decides to cast him out, even though she knows this, then screw her. We can find a new goddess for the kids to worship if we really need to.”

“I don’t…” Neteyam was at a loss for words. There was no way Jake was willing to forsake the Great Mother just for him. 

But as his father’s head turned upon hearing the words he had muttered, giving Neteyam an encouraging dip of his chin to tell him to continue speaking, there wasn’t a doubt in the boy’s mind that Jake would travel to the ends of the world for him if he as so much as requested it. Letting that sink in, Neteyam couldn’t help but beam up at the man.

With a huff, Neteyam jokingly shoved Jake away from him, trying to conceal the string of laughter that was threatening to spill from his lips. “I don’t think that’s how it works. Eywa'eveng (Pandora) doesn’t have any goddesses.”

“We’ll make our own then. 'Rrta’s (Earth’s) got enough of them to go around,” Jake mused, not allowing himself to slip too far away as he reached a hand out towards Neteyam and latched onto him, pulling his son into the unbothered bubble that surrounded him. The peals of laughter on Neteyam’s tongue truly spilled then as he struggled uselessly against Jake’s hold, his amusement getting in the way of any progress. “But that’s not the point I’m trying to make here, Babyboy.”

Adjusting his hold on Neteyam from playful to treasuring, Jake pulled the boy in, not caring about Neteyam’s jesting movement as he held him close. Eventually, with that action, all of Neteyam’s movements ceased to exist as he stared expectantly up at Jake, one of his hands curling into his father’s body, fingertips digging into whatever flesh they could reach as he waited. 

“What I’m saying, or at least trying to,” Jake started, looking so sure of himself even as he struggled to find the right words to fit his thought process. “Is that I don’t care what you might’ve done in the past while you were away from us. You’re still my son, and I’m going to do everything I can to protect you.” 

That confession had Neteyam stilling momentarily. With rounded eyes, he peeked up at Jake, his lips parting as if he wanted to say something. But nothing came out. As soon as Neteyam’s gaze locked with Jake’s, all he could see was the adoration he had been harbouring there for so long, finally making good use of everything he had been forced to keep at bay for so long now. 

With an uncontained sniffle, Neteyam lurched forward. In an uncharismatic clash, Neteyam’s forehead collided with Jake’s collarbone, connecting the two of them in a warm embrace. But that wasn’t enough for Neteyam, not when he had been stripped of this for so long. 

Digging even deeper, Neteyam practically tried to mould himself into Jake’s skin. And Jake, ever the sucker for some family love, welcomed Neteyam in as much as he could, not caring for the brush of a damp nose against his shoulder.

“I don’t care if it’s the Mangkwan or RDA that comes after us,” Jake continued after Neteyam had properly situated himself within Jake’s hold, pushing forward even if his previous statement had been enough to satisfy any of the doubt that had been clouding Neteyam’s mind. This he would not fail. Turning his grip on the Omatikayan boy into a much more possessive one than what was warranted for the safety their mauri’s walls offered them, Jake declared, “Or if the Metkayina or Eywa herself turns their back on us. Fuck them.”

“Sempu (Daddy),” a quiet gasp echoed from behind them, all three of the older Na’vi’s heads turning to face Tuk, who had sluggishly sat up and had her hands planted over her mouth, attempting to conceal her horror. In a squeak, she whisper-yelled, “You can’t say that! That’s a bad word.”

“Babygirl?” Jake startled, fumbling over himself as his hold over Neteyam went slack. Darting his eyes between his son, snuggled up to him, his daughter staring at him, aghast, and his mate, whose face was slowly turning from disbelief to amusement, Jake gulped. Hesitantly, and with a nervous chuckle to his words that made the man only seem more on edge, Jake asked, “When did you wake up?”

“When Neteyam started laughing too loudly,” Tuk easily supplied, quickly making Neteyam’s shoulders hitch up to his ears as embarrassment flooded through him. Planting her hands on her hips, Tuk sternly stated, “But don’t try to change the subject, Sempu. You said a bad word.”

“Yes, he did, Tuk,” Neytiri began, a teasing lit to her voice as she saddled up to Tuk’s side. If the smile on her face was anything to go by, Neytiri was more than grateful for her daughter’s awakening, the turn of events taking on a much lighter atmosphere than the grim path they had been following. So, jumping at the opportunity to ease Neteyam and take away some of the tension that had been building in Jake’s shoulders, Neytiri presented Tuk in front of Jake, lightly prompting her, “And what does Sempu have to do when he says a bad word?”

“He has to take me on an adventure,” Tuk excitedly recalled, remembering all the times Jake had been forced to take her with him to attend his Olo’eyktan duties, or hand her off to her siblings so they could fulfil his promises when he got too busy with combat preparations. “I want to go and see the Tulkun, Sempu! Can we go say ‘hi’ on your Tsurak (Skimwing)?”

“You know I’d love to take you out, Babygirl,” Jake started, the regret in his voice apparent as he reached a hand out and ruffled Tuk’s short braids. “But maybe we should wait until after the Calf Communion. Besides, Sempu’s a bit busy today.”

“What? No!” Tuk exclaimed, not even bothering to moderate his volume for her still sleeping siblings. “You can’t be busy today.”

Jake didn’t offer her a solid answer. Instead, he only gave Tuk a sad smile, a silent promise interwoven in between the creases of his face. That wasn’t enough for Tuk, though. It would never be enough when she was being denied one of the things she loved doing the most. The pout on her droopy lips made that perfectly clear. 

And while Tuk was the loudest in her misgivings, she wasn’t the only one apprehended by Jake’s admittance. Neytiri, as well as Neteyam, who was equally as confused, stalked her way over to Jake, bracketing Neteyam and Tuk in between their bodies, similarly to how she and Jake had been doing when they had all been asleep. In a taut murmur, the older woman asked, “What do you have planned, Ma’Jake?”

“You’ll find out later,” he said, easily brushing off her concerns. The question, however, did make the former Uniltìrantokx (Avatar / Dreamwalker) shift uncomfortably, his eyes jittering to where their mauri opened up and sunlight trickled in. Staring out at the sky for a moment, almost as if he were begrudgingly entranced by it, Jake stated, “Speaking of which, I should probably get going now if I want to return in time.”

“Do you need any help, Sempul (Father)?” Neteyam tried to offer, his skin crawling with the uncertainty sifting through the air. The unease that had begun to creep into their home was so thick that Neteyam was surprised no one else had woken from it yet, his own lungs practically suffocating under it. With a tight smile, he claimed, “I don’t mind coming with you.”

“No, I’m okay, Son,” Jake said, offering Neteyam a smile even if the corners of his lips faltered ever so slightly. “But what you can do is make yourself useful to the village, okay? I need everyone to pull their weight until I get back. No slacking off, especially today.”

“Okay,” Neteyam said with a small sigh, his ears folding back against his will at the soft rejection he had been dealt. “I’ll make to help out as much as I can.”

“Good,” Jake murmured, cupping the base of Neteyam’s skull for a moment before turning his sights to Neytiri. With tensed features, the man tried to reassure his mate, letting go of Tuk to cup her cheek quickly, connecting their foreheads for half a second before he was fully pulling away from the small cluster that had gathered. “I should go now. We can’t waste any more time.”

“Ma’Jake?” Neytiri tried, but Jake was already standing, his eyes set on the mauri’s flapping curtain.

“Make sure the kids don’t get into any trouble,” he called over his shoulder as he absently gathered some of his Sky Person gadgets, fastening them to himself in quick succession. Making a beeline for the mauri’s exit after that, Jake didn’t look back. “If anything happens, radio me, and I’ll immediately turn around and come back.”

So, with those being his final words, not even bothering to listen to any of the objections that were raining out from Neytiri, or the confused questioning spilling from Tuk’s lips, Jake left. With not a word of where he was going, or what his intentions were, he disappeared from their mauri without a trace. 

With his mind drawing a blank and only an ebbing of confusion filling any gaps that Jake had left, Neteyam did the only thing he knew how to: he followed the orders that Jake had given him. 

While his morning had started off slow, the rest of his day was quickly packed with an endless list of tasks he could circle through. And while Neteyam still carried that same shameful stab of remorse wherever he went, he refused to not help where he could. 

The hunters needed help sharpening their spears. So, Neteyam grabbed his blade and the whetstone his father kept hidden away, and joined the hunters until he had gone through more spears than he could count. And as if that wasn’t enough, he then helped create arrows that could be locked into crossbows, making sure the hunters had a steady supply that seemed as if it would never run out. 

The craftsmen needed help ensuring that the children and the injured had a safe location they could flee to. So, Neteyam helped them scour the rock formations surrounding the village until they found a cave big enough to house the entire village. Then, he grabbed whatever blankets and soft fabrics that belonged to him and dragged them to their chosen cave, helping to make quiet little corners that Na’vi could tuck themselves away into when the cry of war grew too much for their ears.

The animal handlers needed help gathering the Tsuraks (Skimwings) and Ilu and placing saddles and other war equipment on their backs. So, despite Neteyam still housing a significant amount of dismay for the water, he treaded in until he was about waist deep, slotting the riding gear into place and making sure each aquatic animal was well prepared for what was to come. 

Neteyam didn’t stop until he could barely stand from the exhaustion consuming his body, and even then, he pushed forward, not allowing himself to be deadweight for more than a second. 

It was only when a hush fell over the village that Neteyam got any sort of break. 

His head turned to take in the spectacle that was occurring, noticing the gathering of Na’vi on a small hill just outside of the village's perimeter. Placing the half-woven toa guard that he had been working on in hopes of giving it to Lo’ak later that day, Neteyam stood from his seat and quickly followed after the growing crowd. Subconsciously, his hand filtered down to the blade that sat at his hip, fingers curling around the handle in case another attack was underway.

But when Neteyam arrived, he wasn’t met by any fear-stricken faces or the demands of an enraged Tsahìk trying to claim what she thought belonged to her. No. Instead, Neteyam saw the curious gazes that were aimed towards the sky, a few younger children barely being able to hold in their jittery excitement. 

With a furrow setting itself in between his brow muscles, creasing the skin there as confusion overtook him, Neteyam pushed forward, trying to get a better look at what was happening. 

Not needing to say or do anything, the Na’vi surrounding Neteyam immediately parted for him upon noticing his presence, creating an easy path for him to follow that led him directly to the front of the gathered group. That only perplexed Neteyam more, though. Not understanding what could be happening to warrant such a reaction, but also not wanting to deny the grace he had been offered, Neteyam pressed forward, ready to have all he was unsure about revealed to him.

Making it to the front of the group, it wasn’t hard for Neteyam to spot the rest of his family, all of whom were standing there in shock as they stared upwards. They weren’t the only ones either, with Ao’nung and his family integrated with them, looks of amazement crossing their features as they looked beyond the green hill they all stood on. 

Instead of turning to see what had caught everyone’s attention though, Neteyam did the one thing he always did when he felt unsure of what was going on: he sought out Ao’nung. 

Pressing himself close to his Metkayina’s side, Neteyam looked around at the gathered group with scepticism clouding his features. “What’s going on?” he whispered with uncertainty, not particularly finding the bewildered expressions on everyone’s faces as they stood in the middle of nowhere to be very welcoming.

Neteyam wasn’t greeted with an answer, though. No. Instead, Ao’nung wordlessly reached a hand up to Neteyam’s face, hooked his fingers beneath Neteyam’s chin and promptly turned Neteyam’s head until his eyes landed on what they had all been entranced by. 

And there, in a blazing gust of fury and valour, was Toruk. 

But Toruk wasn’t the only thing Neteyam could see. On the beast's back was Jake. His father. The man he had been wrapped up in his arms mere hours ago. 

Feeling his jaw drop, the world around Neteyam came to a slow stop. All his attention, all of his thoughts, worries, and feelings, were sucked away from everything happening around him, and instead placed directly on Jake as he and Toruk glided towards the gathered masses, all trying to get a glimpse of Toruk Makto.

And while Neteyam was doing the exact same thing as them, his eyes almost bugged out of his head as he soaked in the scene of his father riding towards them with an air of tainted glory, he stared on for a completely different reason. A reason that only very few could relate to him on. A reason that he had pushed deep down until only recently. A reason that he has had to fight to remember.

Toruk Makto was his father. 

Of course, Neteyam had grown up with the stories of the six Toruk Makto’s. One of which, whom he had only found out recently (or had rediscovered recently thanks to Tuk’s rambling), was his great-great-great-grandfather on his mother’s side. Even when he had first awoken, dazed and not knowing where he was, he could still recall the legendary stories of Toruk Makto that had been passed down for generations. They were practically engraved into every Na’vi’s existence. Unforgettable. 

However, as Neteyam had just said before, and as he had distantly remembered through estranged visions, his father was Toruk Makto. Jake Sully. 

But knowing that his father held the legendary title, and actually seeing it with his own two eyes as Jake descended from the skies, were two completely different things. Two vastly different things that Neteyam was struggling to comprehend, even if he had been made aware of that fact for at least a week now, Jake professing it to him on that first night of his imprisonment. 

Neteyam was amazed. He was also dumbfounded, astonished, flabbergasted, and every other word in the book to describe how shocked he was. And, with that, he was awestruck. He was rendered speechless at just how mighty of a man his father was.

And, because of that, it was only natural that Neteyam was a little overwhelmed by what was taking place in front of him. 

While the rest of the Sullys pulled themselves from where they stood, crowding into Jake’s space and squealing (in Tuk’s ccase) about how cool he was, Neteyam remained stuck. Glued to the very spot in which he stood, with nothing but a slack jaw and eyes as large as a Kenten’s (Fan Lizard’s) wing to show for it. 

No matter how much Neteyam willed his body to act, to move, to react, to do something, he lingered in his spot. He was unable to properly process what was happening, his brain refusing to catch up. But, it seemed he didn’t need to.

Because, out of nowhere, Neteyam heard that familiar barking laughter of one Aonung te Tsika'u Tonowari'itan, using his dazed expression against him as the Metkayina boy found some amusement at his expense. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise to anyone that, despite the war hero himself being in front of Ao’nung, he wasn’t able to pull his attention from Neteyam for too long. 

You’d still think the presence of a tamed Toruk would do the trick, though.

Hesitantly tearing his gaze away from Jake, not wanting to miss a second of his arrival but needing to find a way to confirm what he was seeing, Neteyam turned to Ao’nung and his bubbling laughter, trying to work out if what was going on around him was real. 

“Toruk Makto,” Neteyam started, stating the obvious for a lack of better things to say. As if to check that the winged creature and the man who had been riding it were still there, Neteyam chanced a quick glance back over at the pair, finding Jake already in a serious conversation with Tonowari, Ronal and Neytiri while Toruk sat patiently behind him. Blinking a few times, checking to make sure it wasn’t just a trick of the light that was making him see these things, Neteyam turned back to Ao’nung. 

Attempting to rein his cackling in, Ao’nung took one of Neteyam’s hands into his, trying to focus on what the stunned Omatikayan boy was saying as he kept his lips tightly sealed shut. Still, even as he gave Neteyam an encouraging nod, hoping to pull out whatever thoughts were circling his head, small peels of snickers fell from his mouth. 

Ignoring whatever sight he made, Neteyam racked his brain for a coherent thing to say. Unfortunately for him and his diluted sense of reality, what Neteyam produced was just as evident and well-known as what had first come from his lips. In a voice barely his own, small, cracked at the edges, and trembling with the weight of a truth he wasn't ready to catch, Neteyam asked, “...is my father?”

“Yes, Yawne (Beloved),” Ao’nung couldn’t help but let his laughter spill out of him as he spoke, using his hold on Neteyam’s hand to tug his future mate close and engulf him in his arms. “Toruk Makto is your father.”

Allowing himself to be tossed around and manhandled into Ao’nung’s hold, Neteyam felt his mind go blanker than it already had been. “Oh…”

But as he turned his attention back over to his father and the legendary beast that sat behind him, ready to do anything Jake wished at the drop of a hat, Neteyam felt his chest constrict with something he couldn’t name. 

It wasn’t the dread he had first felt when he noticed the Metkayina Na’vi gathering just outside of the village's perimeter. It wasn’t the startlement that had taken over him when he caught sight of Toruk sailing through the air. It wasn’t the astonishment that he had felt creeping into his bones when he realised that it was his father perched upon the beast’s back. It was something else. Something that the presence of a Toruk hasn’t meant in sixteen years. 

When Neteyam’s great-great-great-grandfather tamed a Toruk, it was to unite the clans during a time of great sorrow. When Jake Sully had done it, it was because the Sky People had just destroyed Home Tree, and they were coming to finish the Omatikaya clan off. His father did it because they needed to fight back if they wished to survive. 

So, if Toruk Makto were here, it could only mean one thing. War would reach Awa’atlu’s shores soon.

Ever since Ao’nung had returned from Bridgehead City, where he and Neytiri set off to rescue Jake and Neteyam, Spider following in tow after them, he’s been consumed by an overbearing sense of anxiety that he couldn’t seem to shake, no matter what he tried. 

From the moment his feet touched down on the familiar sandy beaches that Awa’atlu housed, Ao’nung has felt that dread build. Growing until Ao’nung was reduced to nothing more than an avatar of the parasite that plagued him. Seeing Jake bring Toruk to his home, riding in as Toruk Makto instead of his future mate’s father, only made that apprehension grow (once he had stopped laughing at how utterly bewildered Neteyam was, of course).

Before then, he had ways to escape it. Ao’nung could busy himself with his duties as the future Olo’eyktan of the Metkayina, keeping his body distracted so he didn’t give in to the tremors that threatened to overtake him. And if that didn’t work, he could go for a quick dive in the vast ocean that his life had been built upon. 

And when that failed him, or when Ao’nung was feeling particularly desperate to silence the constant worry that ate away at him, he’d find Neteyam and clear his head with the simple moments that they spent together. 

But now, there was no hiding from the uneasiness that overtook his body. No tricking the leech that was making him feel this way. 

Because all around Ao'nung, there was war. 

Moving through the village, it was impossible for Ao’nung to ignore the way children dejectedly grabbed their most valuable items and were ushered off to a safe place to hide. The quick footsteps of warriors passing by as they moved to gather their weapons. The silent prayers that were being uttered for every Na’vi that walked by. The Ikran flying overhead and the Tsurak’s crowding their waters as Toruk Makto once again united the clans and called for aid. 

It seemed that Awa’atlu finally knew what it meant to have war reach its shores. Additionally, it seemed that Ao’nung finally knew what it meant to grow up as a Sully, where his entire life was consumed by the dangers of an alien species.

In a matter of hours, blood would be spilled. Both Na’vi and Sky People alike will be at war, and there is no avoiding it. Ao’nung knew this. The entire village knew this. Their time of peace may be over, but they had the numbers to bring a new age of tranquillity to Pandora if they made their stand now. 

And while seeing his home, the village he had spent the sum of his life, growing from an infant to the recognised warrior that he was now, get turned from a place of tradition and harmony into battle-ready grounds that could be taken from him at any moment, Ao’nung couldn’t even say that was the worst thing that was happening to him right now. 

Even if the Na’vi Ao’nung had grown up with wore a mixture of terrified and hardened expressions as they waited for the inevitable, he could will his heart to calm itself. Even if he could hear the distant crying of a baby being taken away from its father so he could fight, Ao’nung was able to turn a blind eye. Even if Ao’nung knew Awa’atlu may never be the same after this, he was able to push forward and remain strong.

By far, the worst thing about it all was that Ao’nung hadn’t seen Neteyam since Jake returned with Toruk, leaving him to grapple alone with the voices that consumed his mind. 

And, with the only duties for Ao’nung to tend to involved the preparation of war, and with the ocean overcome with the influx of warriors from neighbouring clans ready to lay their lives on the line, there was nothing for Ao’nung to distract himself from the impending doom that hung over his head. 

Knowing that if he wanted to clear his head before the battle began, or at least get any semblance of peace that didn’t have him wanting to tear his hair out from his scalp, Ao’nung knew he couldn’t remain in the village where he was constantly surrounded by it all. If he did, by the time the Mangkwan and RDA arrived, Ao’nung would already be finished off. 

So, doing the only sensible thing that he could think of, Ao’nung let his feet guide him, and ran. 

In a scramble to get away, Ao’nung didn’t give his brain a second to catch up to what his body was doing as he expertly weaved through the village, slowing for no one as he let his instincts guide him to where he needed to go. 

When Ao’nung naturally arrived at the mauri he and Neteyam had shared for a few nights, he should’ve found it as no surprise. Even if it were only temporary, a solution to a problem that should’ve been fixed by now, the woven structure had become a home to him. It wasn’t like it was necessarily hard to get used to the idea of sharing a mauri with Neteyam either. Eywa knows how many nights Ao’nung had spent dreaming of that very thing.

Naturally, the mauri just became a safe sort of space for Ao’nung after that. It was a spot just for him and the one he loved to spend their time. Even if it had initially been seen as a bad thing, an honorary prison cell for a hostage no one could dare to hurt, it quickly became a place of bubbling laughter and playful grins. 

Because of that, even though the hut wasn’t being used anymore, it became something that naturally called out to him. Luring Ao’nung in when he needed a second away from the rest of the world so he could take a second for himself and think.

And that was exactly what Ao’nung planned to do now. 

Slipping into the mauri, Ao’nung’s eyes sealed shut before the curtain separating him from the village could even stop flapping behind him. With his head dipped forward, his forehead leaning against one of the woven walls that bracketed him, Ao’nung let out a sigh. 

He was just about ready to drop to his knees and clutch a hand over his convulsing lungs at this point. The spiking of his heart couldn’t be good for him, Ao’nung knew that. But he wasn’t selfish enough to go and find his mother and ask her for some sort of remedy to calm the ache that consumed him, even if she were Tsahìk. Ao’nung wouldn’t pull her away from that.

She had bigger things to worry about than him, and he wasn’t just referring to the war she had to preside over. Ronal was still with child, his unborn baby sibling being due any day now. 

Ao’nung would be damned if he did anything to add to the stress his mother was under, not wanting to risk her or the baby's health as they navigated these turbulent times. So, Ao’nung would do what he did best and find his own way to deal with the troublesome nag he had been feeling for hours now.

Pulling himself away from his slumped-over position, Ao’nung righted himself and began making his way deeper into the mauri, his mind already set on a tried and tested method to keep his mind off of things. 

While Neteyam had been gone, his whereabouts unknown and his likelihood of survival uncertain, Ao’nung had discovered there were very few ways he could make himself feel at ease among all of the misgivings. 

Instead of taking his mind off of the Omatikayan boy as his mother had suggested, since that never worked, Ao’nung had eventually found out that by pouring all of his pain, love, and attention into crafting something for Neteyam so that he had something waiting for him when he eventually returned (because Ao’nung always knew deep down that he would), he could make himself vaguely feel better about the situation he was in.

And while the pearled shawl that Ao’nung had given Neteyam only came after his return, Ao’nung not daring to touch it outside of gathering the small iridescent beads that made up the design, he had something else that he had been working on for a while now. Something that he had refused to reveal to anyone and wouldn’t present to the muse behind its creation until after he had earned the approval of the Sullys and Neteyam was returned to him whole again. 

Stashed inside his and Neteyam’s temporary mauri, Ao’nung not daring to leave it somewhere unsupervised where anyone could stumble upon it and take what was solely his and Neteyam’s, was the official courting gift that he would one day present to his beloved. 

And that gift, when Ao’nung finally got his hands on it, would be enough to momentarily drag his mind away from the horrors that would be soon waiting outside of his door.

Stepping into the main section of the mauri, Ao’nung is more than ready to make his way over to where he had hidden the incomplete gift, making sure to put it somewhere he knew Neteyam would never dare to look. But just as he’s about to make his way over to the dip in their mauri where it opens up to the ocean below them, Ao’nung came to a quick stop, almost tripping over himself as his eyes landed on a certain someone taking up the floor of their mauri.

With an array of brightly coloured trinkets surrounding him, Neteyam sat near the centre of the mauri, lost in his own world as he carefully undid some of his braids and wove the items he had gathered into them. 

“Neteyam?” Ao’nung gasped upon seeing the Omatikayan, his mouth working quicker than his brain as he called out to the boy. Immediately, all thoughts and ideas that had been previously circulating around Ao’nung’s mind were dimmed to a quiet buzz as the object of his desires appeared in front of him, shocking Ao’nung with his presence. 

At the mere mention of his name, Neteyam’s head went snapping up, his eyes widened and his body alert as he searched for the source of the sound. Putting a halt to whatever he had previously been doing, all of his attention turned to the Na’vi who had been able to slip into his old mauri without letting him know of his arrival. 

Though, it wasn’t like Neteyam had to see Ao’nung to realise it had been him who had called his name out. Because before Neteyam’s eyes could even land on Ao’nung, a reserved smile was stretching at the corner of his lips, replacing the bewilderment that had first made itself known across Neteyam’s features. And that was before Neteyam even got sight of him. When the Omatikayan boy fully turned to see Ao’nung, his tail gave a small, happy flick as his spine straightened, almost as if Neteyam was perking up at his arrival.  

As much as Ao’nung wanted to tease his future mate for what he had just done, finding it far too cute for the situation they were currently in, Ao’nung knew he wasn’t faring any better. He could feel his heart literally singing in his chest at the reaction he had pulled out of Neteyam without even meaning to. And, if that wasn’t bad enough, Ao’nung positively beamed, “You’re here!”

“Yes…?” Neteyam sceptically hummed, not completely sure what had gotten Ao’nung in such a good mood. If only he knew just how much he plagued Ao’nung’s every waking thought. Still, Neteyam didn’t let his own features dampen as he gestured for Ao’nung to come over and join him, patting the open space across from him as he did. “Where else would I be?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Ao’nung sheepishly said, scratching the back of his neck as he made his way over to Neteyam. Taking a seat in the exact spot Neteyam had pointed out to him, Ao’nung made sure to be careful of the trinkets–feathers. Now that he was up close, he could see that they were feathers–that Neteyam had laid out before himself, shifting through them at his own pace before undoing one of his many braids and tying it into his hair. Not wanting to deliberate on the real reason why Ao’nung had ventured to their mauri, his being overcome by surprise at the appearance of Neteyam, he just muttered, “Forget it.”

For a second, Neteyam seems like he’s about to do the exact opposite of that. His eyes playfully narrowed at Ao’nung, a teasing mirth clouding his golden irises as they flittered over Ao’nung’s face, searching for any cracks in his composure, before happily turning back to what he had been previously doing. Letting go of whatever thoughts Ao’nung wanted to keep hidden.

Ao’nung let out a quiet breath of relief when he saw Neteyam subtly turn away from him, his attention pulled, allowing for Ao’nung to relax. Not that it would’ve been a bad thing to talk to Neteyam about what had been troubling him for hours now, but just as Ronal didn’t need the added stress, neither did Neteyam. 

So, Ao’nung let him work instead, his own focus falling to the way Neteyam’s fingers danced over the different feathers he had picked out from Eywa knows where. Perhaps Neytiri had a secret stash of them somewhere. She always seemed to have a new piece adorning her hair every couple of days.

Working with a practised grace, Neteyam took hold of a teal feather, separating it from the rest as he placed it just before the curve of his knee. Then, reaching a hand up to his hair, Neteyam took hold of one of the braids that naturally hung just behind his ear. Slipping the small tie off from the end of his braid, Neteyam got to work unravelling it, only stopping when he reached the midpoint of the strand. 

Picking his chosen feather up again, Neteyam brought the edge of it up to his hair and secured it in place with a section of hair before tightly weaving it all back together, the small feather dangling from its chosen place. Giving the feather a few tugs to make sure it wouldn’t come out with any strong gusts of wind, Neteyam let out a satisfied hum as he finished.

From there, it was just rinse and repeat. Completing the same motions until he was satisfied with the end result.

And Ao’nung, well, he was just happy to watch the entire thing. 

Whenever something involved Neteyam, even if it was as simple as weaving a new basket, or as mundane as travelling through the village, Ao’nung found his eyes easily slipping over to the Omatikayan boy, entranced by the way Neteyam moved as he went about his day. 

Some may call it creepy (Kiri), while others call it stalkerish (Lo’ak), but Ao’nung had always insisted it was just him admiring Neteyam and all the beauty that he possessed. 

So, even now, despite Ao’nung seeing Neteyam decorate his hair with feathers before (although never to such a degree where Ao’nung could see more brightly coloured accessories than actual hair), he sat and watched every minute detail as Neteyam seamlessly worked. Though, Ao’nung couldn’t fight the small itch that was creeping up his spine, urging him to ask why Neteyam would choose to do such a thing at a time like now. 

“Why are you putting feathers in your hair?” Ao’nung eventually asked after watching Neteyam grab onto a fourth feather since Ao’nung had arrived, but what must’ve really been his ninth. “Shouldn’t you be saving the festivities until after the battle has been won?”

“They’re not for celebrating,” Neteyam lightly mused, his gaze flicking over to meet Ao’nung’s with an amused huff leaving his lips. Not stilling his hands for even a second, Neteyam stayed focused on his task, even if he allowed himself to slow down so he could grant Ao’nung the proper attention he deserved. With a shrug of his shoulders, Neteyam plainly said, “I’m getting ready for battle.”

Battle… right. Ao’nung had almost forgotten that once he left that mauri, he would once again be greeted by the anxieties of war as it stalked towards them. If he could, he would’ve kept it that way. The oncoming battle was nothing more than an afterthought as he got wrapped up in the small bubble that so often surrounded him and Neteyam whenever the two of them were left alone. But of course, even Neteyam wasn’t beyond doomsday grip. 

In fact, he had more at stake than almost all of them. 

While Ao’nung was sure that Neteyam would walk away from this battle alive, if things didn’t go the way that they hoped though, it may not be a good thing if the Mangkwan got their hands on him again. 

If they had been mad at his disobedience before, Neteyam’s second betrayal would’ve pushed them right over the edge, sending them into an enraged fit. Especially with the damage he had dealt to Ti’ol. Ao’nung knew the boy would be punished, stripped of his autonomy, and made to fit back into the role of Tsakarem once more, even if Neteyam wanted none of that.

But that was just another reason as to why the Na’vi had to join forces and fight back against the Mangkwan and the Sky People that they had foolishly teamed up with. It was also, however, another reason as to why Ao’nung didn’t want to spend another second thinking of the approaching war.

At the mere mention of it, Ao’nung could feel his breathing grow laboured, reminding him of the very reason why he had sought out the mauri as an escape from the terror that was trying to consume him. 

Perhaps coming here was a mistake. Wait, no– Being with Neteyam could never be a mistake. It was just that Ao’nung needed a distraction, and fast. Something to once again take his mind off of the inevitable. Otherwise, he’d probably turn into a bumbling mess in front of Neteyam, tainting whatever little time they had before everything went to shit. 

Flicking over the feathers that were fluffed into Neteyam’s air, the hues of teal, pink, green, and purple fluttering together, Ao’nung decided to focus on that. Forget the war, or, at least, the negative connotations that came with it, and instead redirect everything to the pretty picture that Neteyam was making of himself. Yeah, that could work. Taking a final breath before Ao’nung forced himself to adjust, he pushed a smirk onto his face and reached a hand out to Neteyam, twirling one of his braids around his fingers as he slyly murmured, “But how does making yourself even more breathtaking than you already are prepare you for war?”

A flush of purple immediately coated Neteyam’s cheeks at his question, his entire body freezing as his hands stilled mid-air. His eyes darted hesitantly over to Ao’nung, attempting to conceal the mix of embarrassment and enjoyment he was feeling at Ao’nung’s remark. 

But Ao’nung could see it all. Every flicker of his thin tail and each twitch of his flushed ears was noticed and catalogued by Ao’nung, committing the actions to memory as he puffed his chest out at pulling such a reaction from his future mate. 

“It’s an Omatikaya clan tradition,” Neteyam huffed when he was finally able to get some control over himself, avoiding Ao’nung’s gaze and fiddling with the tip of a new feather he had selected to keep himself busy. “We adorn ourselves with feathers and warpaint, among other things. It acts as a symbol of our status, bravery, and unity. I guess it also just looks pretty cool in general.”

“You definitely look pretty and cool, oeyä Yawne (my Beloved),” Ao’nung gushed, revelling in the way Neteyam’s face grew two shades darker, an undignified squeak falling from his lips as he quickly pulled himself from Ao’nung’s grasp. Unfortunately, though, Ao’nung had more questions, keeping Neteyam from focusing on his preparations as he sat on edge, waiting for another teasing remark to be sent his way. “But how do you know that? I thought you didn’t remember much of your Omatikayan past.”

“I don’t,” Neteyam sighed, his ears drooping slightly as his shoulders gave a pathetic shrug. “But I guess I can remember how Lo’ak and I used to dress up when we were younger, and Dad first let us start going on missions. Plus I… I’ve seen a memory where my parents were dressed up like this, so it feels right.”

“Hm,” Ao’nung hummed, taking in that information carefully. Of course, Ao’nung knew Neteyam had a patchwork of memories stored away. Small visions that never painted the full picture. He just didn’t realise that Neteyam had slowly begun getting them from his time before Awa’atlu. Though Ao’nung guesses they never would’ve had much a reason to discuss such memories since he would’ve never been seen within them.

At Ao’nung’s silence, taking his hum as the only answer he was going to get, Neteyam was more than content to let Ao’nung watch him work again as he began dutifully braiding the excessive amount of feathers he had collected into his hair, almost making it look like a wing of its own that could take flight.

But it seemed Ao’nung wasn’t content enough with just watching anymore. As the next time Neteyam picked out a feather to add to his collection, Ao’nung couldn’t help but snatch up one for himself.

Wrapping his fingers around a yellow feather that sat near the edge of Neteyam’s pile, Ao’nung held it up before his face. Using the stem of the accessory, he twisted it lightly in his grasp, watching as its bristled edges shone an almost golden colour in certain lighting. Ao’nung wasn’t actually sure what he was looking for, but after carefully inspecting the feather, he was able to conclude that there was nothing special about it.

Placing the feather back down, unaware of the curious eyes that had planted themselves onto him, Ao’nung discarded the feather, ready to go back to simply watching Neteyam work, when he caught sight of something he had somehow missed when he first sat down with Neteyam.

There, by the boy’s tail, was the Mangkwan diadem that he had refused to take off when he had first arrived in Awa’atlu.

“Why do you have that?” Ao’nung tensely asked, his blue irises boring into the intruding item as it stood out starkly among the Metkayina and Omatkiayan clothing, accessories, and weaving that made up the mauri. “I thought you finally got rid of it.”

“I was going to…” Neteyam shuddered, his eyes softening at the way Ao’nung was immediately put on edge by just the mere sight of the accessory. He hadn’t exactly been thrilled to pull the diadem out from the dark corner it had been tucked away into, but Neteyam knew of a way that would bring purpose back to the accessory. “But I need to wear it one last time before I can say goodbye to it.”

“Why?” Ao’nung scowled, not even beginning to fathom why Neteyam would ever want to wear that thing again. Not when it represents all the struggles he had been through. That his family and Ao’nung had been through during his absence. “Ma’Teyam, that thing has been nothing more than a signifier of your pain.”

“I know,” Neteyam sighed, his eyes falling to the diadem as he carefully reached back to pick it up. Brushing his fingers over the row of teeth that had been woven into the headpiece, the large unobtanium stone that sat as its centrepiece. Understanding where Ao’nung was coming from, Neteyam didn’t even feel a sliver of annoyance at the Metkayina’s standoffish nature, knowing that if the roles had been reversed, he would’ve been the same. But still, Neteyam couldn’t help but say, “But it’s the only thing that still ties me to the Mangkwan.”

“Exactly,” Ao’nung almost cried out, trying not to let the shock at seeing the accessory morph into anger and get the best of him. Though it wasn’t an easy feat, especially when Ao’nung was positive he never wanted to see anything representative of the Mangkwan once this war was through with. “Even more of a reason to destroy it.”

“We will,” Neteyam promised, reaching a hand out to rest on Ao’nung’s knee, giving him a light squeeze of reassurance there. “But I need it for this battle.”

“Why?” Ao’nung huffed, not understanding what could possibly make Neteyam want to ever put that thing back on. 

“So that every Mangkwan warrior who even dares to come near me knows exactly who they’re fighting,” Neteyam finally revealed, his voice dropping an octave as it took on a dark edge. Tightening his hold over the diadem, Ao’nung was almost worried that the headpiece would break from how tightly Neteyam had grasped onto it. “I want them to see that diadem and realise that their Tsakarem isn’t on their side, and will never willingly join forces with them again.”

For a moment, Ao’nung stilled. If he hadn’t been so sure that this version of Neteyam was still the same one that he lost all those weeks ago, he would’ve confidently said that the boy in front of him was a born and raised member of the Mangkwan. From the way his face hardened to the conviction with which he spoke, Neteyam could almost be deemed unrecognisable. 

“Reypay zene lu reypay (blood must have blood),” Neteyam settled on saying as Ao’nung’s jaw grew slightly slack, his breath catching in his throat as he watched Neteyam raise the diadem and set it against his forehead. “And then after that, you can do whatever you want with it.”

“...Right,” Ao’nung shallowly said, not knowing what he could possibly say in response to that. 

“But that’s a problem for another time, Tìyawn (Love),” Neteyam sighed, deflating slightly as if that whole performance had sucked out all the energy from him. “Right now, I think you’re lacking your own war garments.”

Furrowing his non-existent brows, Ao’nung stared at Neteyam in confusion. Tilting his head to the side, he couldn’t help but ask, “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Neteyam started, a teasing smile dancing across his face, starkly contrasting the grim glower that had been there only moments prior. “That I can’t have my future mate riding into battle unprepared. You’ll be Toruk Makto’s son-in-law soon. The people must know it.”

“Ma’Teyam?” Ao’nung hesitantly questioned as he saw Neteyam rise from where he had been sitting, making his way over until he was crouched behind Ao’nung. Attempting to look back over his shoulder, hoping to garner an idea of what the boy was planning, Ao’nung was promptly stopped, his gaze being forced forward as Neteyam tsked lightly at him, his amusement seeping out from his pores. 

“Just sit and be patient,” he mused, his fingers reaching up for the leather band that kept Ao’nung’s hair bound in its normal bun. Freeing his beautiful curls from it, Neteyam easily reached past Ao’nung for the feather he had initially inspected when he first took an interest in what Neteyam was doing. “It won’t take me very long to make you look the part.”

Sitting still, or as still as he could manage in this curious state of being, as Neteyam got to work on his hair, Ao’nung did his best to be the best model Neteyam had ever had as he tugged the Metkayina’s hair into place.

Creating a few small braids here and there, nothing nearly as close to the intricacies of Neteyam’s own hair, the Omatikayan constructed a few small braids that had the remaining yellow, blue, red, and orange feathers that he had not personally used woven into them. 

Just as Neteyam had said, the process took no longer than a few minutes, Neteyam having more than enough practice on smaller, more delicate braids, to make Ao’nung’s hair seem like a piece of cake. But instead of tying Ao’nung’s thick curls back into the bun they had originally been nestled into, Neteyam allowed them to remain free, pooling over his shoulders. And, unfortunately for Ao’nung, there was nothing he could do to try to change that, as Neteyam made a quick escape with Ao’nung’s leather tie wrapped around his wrist. 

“What do you think?” Neteyam called over his shoulder as he walked over to one of the carved tables near the back of the mauri, not even getting a proper look at Ao’nung himself before he posed the question. 

Bringing a hand up to one of the thick braids Neteyam had tied into his hair, the same golden feather making an appearance there, Ao’nung barely paid it half a mind as his eyes instead trailed after Neteyam, much more interested in him than whether or not he looked good with a few feathers in his hair. Still, Ao’nung wasn’t going to say that after Neteyam had just gone to the effort to extend some of his Omatikayan traditions his way. So, instead, Ao’nung said, “It’s good. I like them a lot.”

“Good,” Neteyam mused as he picked something up, his body blocking exactly what it was, leaving Ao’nung to ponder until the boy turned around and began making his way back over. With a small bowl in his hands, Ao’nung was only made privy to its contents when Neteyam took his seat again, spotting a white paint that must have been prepared before Ao’nung’s arrival. 

But as Neteyam sat down, this was also the first time the boy got to fully look at the creation he had made. Only, Neteyam wasn’t looking at the feathers in Ao’nung’s hair, much too focused on Ao’nung in his entirety. And, by Eywa, he must’ve been a sight, because Neteyam has such a reaction almost immediately upon setting his eyes on Ao’nung. A feat that Ao’nung couldn’t even believe was happening. 

Because Neteyam blushes at the mere sight of him, as if Ao’nung were something to be marvelled at instead of the divine creation sitting before him. As if it were he who Eywa had poured all the beauty of Eywa'eveng (Pandora) into instead of Neteyam, who stole Ao’nung’s breath every time he looked over at his future mate, reminding him just how lucky he truly was.

Not even bothering to try to hide the amazement on his face, Neteyam confessed, “I think they make you look handsome.”

“Thank you, Yawne (Beloved),” Ao’nung murmured gently, his eyes softening around the edges. It wasn’t often that Neteyam offered Ao’nung such high praise, so Ao’nung knew to revel in it while he could. But if a few colourful feathers were enough to draw such a reaction out of the Omatikayan, well, Ao’nung might see to it that he starts his own collection of the accessories. “But they look better on you.”

“Hm,” Neteyam hummed this time, not committing to a proper answer as he regarded Ao’nung carefully.

For a second time that afternoon, Ao’nung felt as if he were being inspected. As if every one of his moves was being analysed and measured up next to something. He had no idea what, though. 

It almost made Ao’nung feel self-conscious. If it had been anyone but Neteyam who was looking at him in that way, he was sure he would’ve caved in under the pressure and either snapped or fled from their scurniy. But because it was Neteyam, Ao’nung couldn’t help but puff out his chest and do his best to live up to whatever expectations were crossing through his future mate’s mind.

He should’ve known by now though, that everything he did would be welcomed by Neteyam with a kind smile. Because instead of saying anything, Neteyam just reached out for one of Ao’nung’s finned arms and pulled the appendage closer to him, not stopping until his teal hand sat in the Omatikayan’s lap. 

From there, Neteyam dipped his fingers into the white paint and began to cover Ao’nung’s hand in the substance, refusing to give up on his task until every inch of Ao’nung’s flesh was concealed by the white paint. 

Entranced by it all, Ao’nung could only sit and stare as Neteyam worked away, his eyes blinking owlishly as Neteyam discarded the bowl once he was done with it and took hold of Ao’nung’s wrist. Sitting up until his spine was straight and his torso was pulled taught, Ao’nung’s brow muscles furrowed in confusion as Neteyam brought Ao’nung’s hand down to his chest, firmly planting and keeping the limb there as the paint rubbed off onto Neteyam’s skin. 

It was only when Neteyam lightly pushed Ao’nung’s hand away that he realised what Neteyam had done. 

There, on Neteyam’s skin, was his handprint. His mark. 

Etched into his skin, and drying as Awa’atlu’s humid air brushed across the damp paint, was a piece of Ao’nung. Neteyam had made Ao’nung mark him up so that just like with his diadem, everyone knew not only who he was, but who he belonged to. 

Feeling his breath hitch as the sentiment, Ao’nung was truly at a loss for words. Not even the widening of his eyes, or the rabid thumping of his tail against the mauri’s floor, or the way his heart attempted to leap out of his chest was enough to properly articulate just what Ao’nung was feeling. And, as Neteyam took a glance down at the painted handprint, inspecting it momentarily before beaming up at Ao’nung with a satisfied smile, Ao’nung didn’t think there ever would be a proper way to express what he was feeling.

But, if Ao’nung had learned anything, there was definitely a way he could show his gratitude when his words failed him. There was a way he could make Neteyam see what he was.

Shooting a hand out to latch onto Neteyam’s wrist before he could even make a move to get rid of the white paint, having a few more bowls filled with different colours that he needed to make sure of, Ao’nung stopped Neteyam in his tracks. 

When he was met with the confused expression of the Omatikayan though, Ao’nung knew simply thinking of a way to show his appreciation wasn’t enough. He had to bring it to life.

Pointing at the white paint, Ao’nung demanded in a breathy, barely there voice that threatened to give up on him at any moment, “Do me,” as his eyes locked onto Neteyam’s with a determined edge. 

And just like that, Neteyam knew what Ao’nung wanted.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I just thought I'd put an FYI at the end of this chapter that it might be a week or two until the next chapter since I've got quite a few assessments coming up for uni, and unfort, I do need to prioritise that 🙄 just think of this as a major cliff hanger until then cause the next chapter is def gonna be super juicy 🤭

I also just realised that it's basically been two weeks since I last posted anyway... 🫣 soz for the wait, pooks. But once I finish all my assessments at the end of next week, posts should hopefully become more frequent again 🤞 plus I've got a few things in the works that'll hopefully have everyone excited 😘

Already knew who the pair of arms tightly securing him in place, pulling him close so he had no chance of escape, belonged to. Already knew who the shaking shoulders and bitten lip as he tried to keep himself from crying belonged to. Already knew who the thin braids being held back by a studded leather band and the beaming golden eyes that had slipped shut in favour of nuzzling into Neteyam belonged to.

Because who it belonged to was Lo’ak, his extraordinary, impulsive, and daring little brother who had been a steady shoulder for Neteyam to lean on, even when he hadn’t been ready to open his eyes and see the truth.

His little brother, whom Neteyam decided to repay by whacking him over the head with his bow, knocking him out cold as he ran straight towards the very danger that Lo’ak was trying to protect him from. And then, if not to make matters worse, Neteyam did the one thing everyone had been fearing: he went back to the Mangkwan, even if it wasn’t willingly. He left Lo’ak, and the rest of his family and friends, behind, abandoning them to sit in their grief as his old clan tried to indoctrinate him into their ways for a second time. 

Not only had Neteyam left them, though. He had completely disregarded Lo’ak and his task of keeping Neteyam somewhere safe and away from harm, leaving him to the howling Nantang’s (Viperwolves) as he shouldered the burden of Neteyam’s second disappearance, and that was a thought Neteyam didn’t even want to begin to conceptualise.

“Whoa, take it easy, Lo’ak,” Jake practically cried out at the sight, two worried hands shooting forward to try and figure out a way he could ease the situation. But as he spoke, Jake’s worried eyes flittering over the two of them, Neteyam felt his own arms lifting until they had wrapped themselves around Lo’ak’s shoulders, pulling the boy impossibly closer just as Jake had done for him a few hours ago. “Give him a second, Son. He just got back.”

“Sorry, Sir,” Lo’ak wetly sniffled, refusing to let any tears fall from his eyes. Giving in quickly to Jake’s light coaxing to get off of Neteyam, Lo’ak attempted to push himself up, ready to take a step back and allow Neteyam the space he needed to settle. Only, Lo’ak never made it more than an inch away from his brother’s neck, where his face had been previously mushed into. Freezing, as if making any sudden movements now would spook Neteyam and shatter his grasp on him, Lo’ak asked, “Um, Neteyam?”

“I’m sorry I made you worry, Little Bro,” Neteyam muttered, not even thinking through his words as his heart clenched with the thoughts of what Lo’ak could’ve been going through. “I was just trying to do what was right and protect the village. I was the reason they came, so I had to be the one to see them off. I just didn’t mean for it to go the way it did.”

“Yeah, well, don’t ever try to be a hero again, Skxawng (Moron),” Lo’ak scoffed, trying to fight the smile that was threatening to break against his face as he dropped himself back into Neteyam’s hold, giving him a tight squeeze until Jake was breaking them up, prattling on about rest and rejuvenation. But at least now, as the two of them stood side by side, the rest of the Sullys and Ao’nung watching the scene with small smiles, Lo’ak was able to lightly throw a punch into Neteyam’s arm, growing satisfied at the soft groan he let out as he grumbled, “I don’t want to deal with losing you for a third time.”

“Hey,” Neteyam exclaimed, quickly raising a hand to rub at the sore skin, a scowl overtaking his features as he glowered at Lo’ak, no longer feeling as bad for whacking him over the head with his bow. “What was that for?”

“For running off,” Lo’ak bristled, throwing his arms up into the air, exasperated. “And–” Lo’ak began, since his brother clearly hadn’t gotten the message the first time around. Slamming his hand into Neteyam’s arm again, aiming for the same spot as before, the older of the two let out a quick yelp at the contact, shielding his arm from any more hits as Lo’ak snapped, “–for knocking me out.”

“Hold up,” Jake, once again, cut in, holding a hand up to silence any further conversation from happening between the two as he watched Neteyam gear up to fire a retort Lo’ak’s way, an impish grin on his face. “Neteyam, did you knock your brother out?”

“I–” Neteyam faltered, the words dying on his tongue before he could string a coherent sentence together. 

Because Neteyam had knocked Lo’ak out. It hadn’t been some exaggeration that the boy had come up with to try to prod at him, but the truth regarding a high-stakes situation where Neteyam had been fueled with dread and fear and wasn’t able to think clearly, pushing him to make some less-than-smart decisions in the heat of the moment. 

And that fact was made perfectly clear as Neteyam’s shoulders jumped up to his ears, gaze locked on the ground as he refused to make eye contact with his parents dissatisfied frowns, or his siblings curious glances, or Lo’ak’s regretful side eye, or Ao’nung’s subtle smirk. Instead, he focused on making himself look as small and innocent as possible, knowing that he’d been caught and that he wouldn’t be let off the hook as easily now as he had been for other misconducts he had committed in the past few days. 

“Neteyam,” Neytiri sighed, disappointment painting her face as she stared at Neteyam with a small frown. That singular look was enough to make Neteyam’s ears flatten against his skull, his head dropping so he could hide his shame and avoid the disapproval that Neytiri was fixing him with. 

“I didn’t mean to hurt him,” Neteyam quickly tried to reason, his eyes darting between Jake and Neytiri as he pleaded his case, hoping that at least one of them would feel a bit of pity for him and not be too harsh with whatever punishment they decided to dish out. “But Lo’ak wasn’t letting me join the fight, and I couldn’t think of another way to get past him without him coming after me.”

“Yeah, with good reason,” Jake stressed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “If there’s a fight, you’re meant to run the other way, not head directly for it.”

“But I’m the reason they came here,” Neteyam argued, quickly catching the way his parents' eyes grew hollow at the statement, their faces pinching into shamed grimaces. It made Neteyam stop for a second, his tongue growing heavy as he considered their reactions. 

There was no denying that Neteyam was the reason behind the Mangkwan descending upon the beaches of Awa’atlu, but, then again, he hadn’t been the only one taken. Spider had been stolen away from right under their noses, while Jake gave himself up willingly to spare the rest of the innocent lives in the village. It was an undeniable fact, but a disheartening one. Especially since it clearly reminded the Sullys of their failure to help Neteyam when he really needed them, an error that he had cruelly hurled in their faces at the first opportunity he got. 

Remembering that brought an even deeper frown to Neteyam’s face, forcing him to reflect on his time in Awa’atlu and all the wrong that he had done to his family as he continued to cling to a false narrative. Or, more importantly, the wrong he had done to his parents as he spent days refusing to acknowledge them for more than five seconds. 

He had been downright violent towards Jake, the cuts from their altercation still present on his skin as they healed slowly. And, while he hadn’t been stupid enough to attack Neytiri, he had still hissed at her and muttered vile threats her way simply because she couldn’t stand the idea of losing her son to a woman and clan who had betrayed their own species in favour of bringing destruction wherever they tread.

And now, here he was, not only trying to defend himself for attacking his brother, who had been nothing but welcoming to him as he adjusted back into his old life, but also justifying his stupidity for involving himself in a battle he knew he’d never win. Risking not only his life, but theirs and Ao’nung’s as they cleaned up the mess he made.

Feeling his shoulders sag as the crushing feeling of defeat settled along his spine, Neteyam bit at his bottom lip, worrying at it for a few moments as he contemplated his next move.

With a bit of reluctance, but a lot more sincerity, Neteyam backed down, muttering in defeat, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, oeyä hì'i tsamsiyu (my little warrior),” Neytiri softly said, hooking her finger under Neteyam’s chin so she could lift his head, a small smile breaking across her face when she saw his warm amber eyes. At Jake’s little huff from beside her though, she narrowed her eyes, shooting her mate a warning look as he clearly prepared himself to refute her claims, having a few things of his own that he wanted to say. Before he could even get a word out though, she uttered to him, setting it in stone, “We can discuss this later.”

Very obviously not liking the idea of that, Jake’s brows pinched together, his disdain made clear. He didn’t dare say anything, though. Abiding by Neytiri’s word as if it were law, despite his reluctance to put the conversation to rest. Still, there was a time and place for something like this to be discussed, and facing an exhausted Neteyam while his siblings patiently waited to get their turn with him, as Lo’ak did, demonstrated perfectly why here and now didn’t quite meet the criteria. 

“Fine,” Jake sighed, the look he shot Neteyam telling him that this clearly wasn’t over. Turning his attention away from Neteyam, letting the boy relax slightly now that he wasn’t being watched like a hawk, Jake’s focus landed on a new victim. One who was less inclined to fight back. “Ao’nung, why don’t you go find your parents? They’ve probably been worried sick about you.”

“Of course, Sir,” Ao’nung said, seemingly thinking about something other than the danger Neteyam was in for the first time since he left. The realisation that he had left without a word to his parents, or an explanation as to what his crazed mind was coming up with to Tsireya, suddenly dawned on him, making his spine shoot up straighter as his imagination supplied him with a number of ways Tonowari and Ronal would scold him for the act. With a slight, reluctant grimace, clearly not wanting to leave now that he knew what was waiting for him, Ao’nung muttered in farewell, “Sorry for any trouble I’ve caused you or your family in the last couple of hours.”

Nodding his head once, as if to acknowledge and accept Ao’nung’s apology without looking too much deeper into it, Jake offered him a tense but reassuring smile, trying to give him the courage to step away and face the consequences of his actions. If not for that, it would have been so the Sullys could finally have some uninterrupted time with Neteyam, to which it would be partly used to continue rephrehnding Neteyam for his poorly thought-out decisions.

Accepting his fate, Ao’nung spared Neteyam a quick look, a promise of seeing the boy later written clearly across his features. If not when they both of them escaped their unruly destiny of being told off, then when night finally washed over Awa’atlu and they would return to their shared mauri, whispering quietly between them as they settled for the night.

But before Ao’nung could even take a step in the direction of his family mauri, barely even being able to take his eyes off Neteyam to begin with, Lo’ak called out a stiff, “Wait.” 

Putting a stop to his desputre, though it had never really started to begin with, Ao’nung looked over his shoulder at where Lo’ak was striding over to him. Feeling his body lock up at the slightly unnerving and determined set to Lo’ak’s jaw, Ao’nung couldn’t help but helplessly ask, “Yeah…?” 

“Before you go,” Lo’ak started, raising his hand similarly to how he had done with Neteyam. Flinching back on instinct, Ao’nung prepared for the worst, knowing that Lo’ak would not be as kind to him as he had been to his own brother. But instead of feeling a bruising punch being launched into his face, just as Lo’ak had done so many months ago, he felt Lo’ak’s hand lightly smacking against his back, patting him graciously. “I just wanted to say ‘thank you’ for bringing Neteyam home safe. He was being a skxawng (moron), and you shouldn’t have had to pay the price for that.”

“Oh, uh, it’s alright,” he stuttered in response, not really knowing how to respond to the grateful words that were uttered his way. In fact, Ao’nung doesn’t think he’s ever heard anything close to kind leave Lo’ak’s mouth when regarding him, throwing him completely off balance for how he should be reacting. With a shrug, Ao’nung tried to brush it off, “I should’ve done a better job at stopping him before he could give himself up, anyway. Next time I’ll know to throw him over my shoulder and carry him away before he can slip through my fingers.”

“Yeah,” Lo’ak nodded quickly in response to that, seriously considering Ao’nung’s offer, even seeming to agree with it if it would successfully get Neteyam away from all and any danger before he could try and sacrifice himself for the benefit of others. “Please do that.”

“Excuse me?” Neteyam huffily scoffed, his eyes rolling at the exchange. Sure, Ao’nung had come to save him, which Neteyam was super thankful for, but Ao’nung hadn’t been the only one looking out for the other. The blood that stained Ao’nung’s spear was a very prominent reminder of that, the sight of Ti’ol’s withering form engraved behind his eyes. Because of that, Neteyam annoyedly grumbled, “Last time I checked, it was me who saved Ao’nung from being stabbed.”

“Pft, really?” Kiri couldn’t help but chuckle, an amused glint sparking to life in her eyes as she curiously looked over at Ao’nung, his body slightly stiffening at the reminder. “What happened?”

“Absolutely nothing,” Ao’nung bulldozed before Neteyam could even get a word out, his mouth uselessly hanging open from where he had been ready to recount the events of last night. Now, that wasn’t to say Ao’nung didn’t appreciate Neteyam’s efforts, even going out of his way to stupidly call him hot amidst it all, but Ao’nung couldn’t necessarily afford to look incapable in front of Neteyam’s family, especially his siblings, who would thrive on the fact that Neteyam ended up saving him instead of the other way around when that was the whole reason Ao’nung left Awa’atlu for the first time and set foot in a Sky People’s base. With a light wave of his hand, Ao’nung unconvincingly chuckled, “Neteyam’s just exaggerating. We were in and out of there with no problems. Even had time for a relaxing swim in a river.”

“The river!” Spider gasped at the mention of the stream of water, his eyes filling with mirth as his head snapped towards Lo’ak, an impish grin taking over his lips. It almost seemed as if Spider had found gold with how pleased he looked with himself, barely being able to hold himself back from cackling at whatever thoughts were circulating in his mind. “Lo’ak, you’re never going to believe what happened.”

“What?” Lo’ak aimlessly mumbled, looking to Neteyam and Ao’nung for any sort of signifier as to what Spider could be getting at, only to be met with equally as confused shrugs.

“Jake’s been using your name as a threat to keep Ao’nung in line,” Spider said, finally bursting out in uncontrollable spiels of laughter, a hand clutching at his stomach as he did so. “Oh, you should’ve seen Ao’nung’s face when Jake mentioned you earlier.”

“Huh?” Lo’ak gwaked, not believing his ears. Despite that, a small smile was threatening to tug at the corner of his lips, undeniably intrigued by what Spider was hinting at as Neteyam’s face erupted into a deep shade of purple, and Ao’nung’s jaw dropped at the confession, quickly shaking his head as he got ready to deny Spider’s claims. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Spider started, a quick wiggle of his eyebrows telling everyone that what he was about to say was going to be incredibly juicy. “That when Ao’nung and Neteyam were shamelessly flirting in front of us, and Neteyam started pouting about not wanting to follow the rules since they’d be mates soon, Jake mentioned how if Ao’nung wasn’t careful, he’d set you lose on him so that you can keep him in line.”

“Are you being serious?” Lo’ak couldn’t help but ask, looking like a kid in a candy store as his eyes lit up and a wide smirk stretched across his face.

“Yes!” Spider exclaimed, far too eager to have Lo’ak match his enthusiasm. With all the new possibilities this opened up for the pair of them, countless ideas of pranks and hazing that came to mind, the two of them would be occupied for weeks. Throwing his arm around Lo’ak’s shoulders, Spider tugged him down closer to his level, excitedly gasping, “Dude, as Neteyam’s little bro’s, it’s our duty to make sure he ends up with someone who’ll treat him right.”

“Hey, wait a second,” Ao’nung tried to cut in, his tail flicking lightly in embarrassment at so openly being talked about, especially when it came to how good of a suitor he was for Neteyam. It was a known fact among everyone in Awa’atlu that Ao’nung didn’t play when it came to Neteyam, so with Lo’ak and Spider so easily talking down on his efforts, he quickly found the need to defend himself. “Are you saying I’m not good enough for Neteyam?”

“Not necessarily, Fishlips,” Lo’ak shrugged, amusement clear on his features as he watched Ao’nung’s expression furrow. Oh, this was going to be more enjoyable than he had ever imagined. With Ao’nung wrapped around Neteyam’s little finger, he’d do anything to win the favour of his family, even if that meant sucking up to Lo’ak for a bit. And Lo’ak, of course, wasn’t going to pass up on that opportunity. “But you’ve got to pass a few tests first before you can gain our approval.”

“You guys are ridiculous,” Neteyam soffed, though he went largely ignored as Lo’ak and Spider began conspiring ways on how Ao’nung could possibly prove himself, the Metkayina helplessly standing there and trying to declare how he had already done specific things to warrant their trust. When none of them paid any mind to him though, Neteyam rolled his eyes and turned to Jake with a glare, grumbling, “Look at what you’ve done.”

“Sorry, Babyboy,” Jake could only smile in response, not at all feeling bad for what he had brought on. If anything, he wanted to hear what Lo’ak and Spider were coming up with, having his own ideas that could be thrown into the mix. “But they’re right. We can’t just let you be swept off your feet by anyone.”

“But Ao’nung’s not just anyone,” he huffed, his arms crossing over his chest as his lips were once again pulled into an annoyed pout.

“I know,” Jake unwillingly muttered, knowing that it was more a Sky Person culture to get hazed by a partner’s family than a Na’vi one. Still, he couldn’t help that overprotective need to make sure his Babyboy was in good hands, especially when it was regarding a decision so drastic as choosing a mate. But, by the looks of it, Jake and his boys weren’t the only ones who seemed to be in favour of testing Ao’nung to some extent, Neytiri's eyes housing a firm sheen to them as the topic was brought up. “And I’m sure Ao’nung will prove that sooner or later. Risking it all to save you was definitely a step in the right direction.”

“He doesn’t have to prove himself, though,” Neteyam said once more, shaking his head as if that were final and the rest of his family should bend to his will since it was Ao’nung they were talking about, his future mate. “Not to me.”

At those words, Neteyam turned to face Ao’nung again, his eyes softening as he witnessed the reef Na’vi drop to the sand and begin partaking in a pushup competition against Lo’ak, both of their movements hurried and their forms sloppy as they competed to see who could do the most before failure, Tuk cheering them on while Spider loudly counted what number they were at. Although it was ridiculous, Neteyam couldn’t help but feel his heart flutter at the sight, not being able to imagine himself spending a single second of his life without Ao’nung in it.

Then, quieter, as if it were a confession he couldn’t quite get out despite everyone already knowing, Neteyam said, “Because I’ve already chosen.”

Ao’nung’s shoulders were hunched up to his ears as he stepped out of his family mauri, a deep frown engraved into his features as he finally took a breath of fresh air. 

It was suffocating in there. Suffocating when talking to his parents. For all the love that they shared for each other, they would never understand what had overcome Ao’nung’s mind when he blindly went after Neteyam, too consumed by duty to ever even consider leaving the clan behind. And while Ao’nung could never necessarily fault them for that, carrying more responsibility on their backs than he would ever understand, he couldn’t submit to their anger either, knowing that he had made the right decision to go after Neteyam. 

Of course, that left him completely drained now, though. It was always like that after being scolded by his parents, specifically Ronal, since she bore no strife with completely laying it into him, reminding Ao’nung of how stupid he was at every possible moment. 

But after grinning and bearing it for a few hours, plus having some of his newfound responsibilities stripped from him after finally completing his Iknimaya and becoming a man in the eyes of the village, Ao’nung was released under the strict instructions of not doing anything idiotic again. Or, at least not without telling them first, so it wouldn’t put too much stress on his unborn sibling when Ronal was sent into a panic.

And as soon as that freedom was once again in Ao’nung’s grasp, the first thing he did was make his way over to the Sully mauri, a specific Omatikayan warrior on his mind as he swiftly made his way across the woven pathways linking the village together. 

Poking his head into the entrance upon his arrival, the Sully’s always keeping their curtain pinned back during the day with how many visitors they get, making it easily accessible for whoever was paying them a visit, Ao’nung’s eyes made quick work of scanning the interior of their home, his frown loosening when his blue irises landed on the subject of his affections. Ao’nung would even go as far as to say his pupils expanded upon the sight of his lover, soaking in the sight of him.

Tucked near the back of the mauri with Tuk stationed in his lap, while his hands were occupied with a knife and some peeled fruit, slicing through it with practised precision, was Neteyam, looking as relaxed as ever. With his tail fluttering occasionally behind him, and Tuk carefully snuggled into his chest, fast asleep, Neteyam seemed to be in his element. 

By his side sat Neytiri, her hands fussing over Neteyam’s braids as he had finally removed the diadem he always wore from his forehead, displaying just how overgrown the strands had become. It seemed that Neytiri was almost done with her work though, as there only seemed to be a braid or two left for her to complete, Neteyam’s loose hair carefully cascading down his back.

From this angle, Ao’nung couldn’t help but notice that the braid housing his mark pearl seemed to have been left untouched, the braid frizzy as it hung by Neteyam’s face. Without being able to help it, a small, possessive part of Ao’nung’s brain was pleased by the sight, knowing that its worse-for-wear state wasn’t due to neglect, but because Neteyam had refused to let anyone else handle the braid, reserving that right for himself.

But before Ao’nung could even begin to revel in that thought, his mind wandered to the possibility of Neteyam allowing him to redo the braid, a broad figure stepped into his line of sight, completely cutting the view off.

Feeling his heart momentarily drop to his stomach as he recognised the navy skin and curled stripes that stretched across his flesh, Ao’nung craned his neck to come face to face with Jake Sully, a grimace immediately settling into his features as he was met with the man’s less than pleased stare. With a grunt, Jake asked, “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Sir,” Ao’nung gasped, his spine straightening as he tried to fix his compousre, unwithering as he felt a two sets of eyes turn to face him, Neytiri and Neteyam growing curious as to who had summoned Jake to attention. And as much as Ao’nung would’ve loved to meet the small smile that graced Neteyam’s lips as his gaze rested on him, Ao’nung didn’t dare to look away from Jake, not when the man was staring him down like he was the enemy. “I was just wondering if I could borrow Neteyam for the afternoon.”

“I don’t think so,” Jake scoffed with a shake of his head, his arms coming up to cross over his chest, looking every bit of the legendary Toruk Makto that Tonowari had described to Ao’nung when he was younger. “You’re not taking my boy anywhere, not when he can’t be trusted not to run off with you and mate before Eywa–”

“Dad!” Neteyam almost screeched, appearing by the man’s side with a deep purple flush to his cheeks after handing Tuk off to Neytiri, not wanting to wake her from her slumber. 

“What?” Jake scowled, not giving up the overbearing parent act just yet as he turned to Neteyam and gave him a once-over, a particular conversation from earlier that day sticking out to him like a warning. If Jake could help it, he’d keep the two teenagers as far away from each other as possible, even if he knew realistically nothing was going to happen just yet. He just couldn’t risk it, though. Not with his boy. “It’s the truth. You two need to stay within someone’s sight if you want to be left alone. I’m not having a repeat of what happened between me and your mother.”

“Ma’Jake,” Neytiri hissed from deeper in the mauri, finally giving Ao’nung a break from Jake’s scrutiny as his attention turned to his mate. With his focus stolen, Ao’nung chanced a quick look at Neteyam, finding the Omatikayan boy already staring his way. The purple hue to his skin hadn’t died down at all, but it seemed Neteyam didn’t particularly care for it as he shuffled over to Ao’nung, securing himself at the Metkayina’s side. “You mustn’t be so hard on them. Ao’nung knows better than to forsake courting traditions.”

Feeling his heart warm at Neytiri coming to defend his honour, Ao’nung tried to flash the woman a smile only to be met with her narrowed gaze, seemingly studying Ao’nung for her own benefit. Despite just having been faced with Toruk Makto himself, Ao’nung found it much scarier to be under Neytiri’s intense eyes, his body stiffening quickly.

“Uh, yeah, right,” he stuttered, trying to find the right words to smooth this over quickly so he and Neteyam could escape. “Neteyam and I haven’t even properly begun courting yet, and I know how much he was looking forward to that, so we’re not going to skip that step.”

“See?” Neytiri murmured with a satisfied nod, turning her attention back to Jake, who seemed unconvinced by the whole ordeal. If anything, Jake seemed even more uptight with that answer, casting Ao’nung a sideways glance that lasted a few moments longer than necessary, as he grumbled to himself about Ao’nung’s answer. “You can let our son go, Muntxatan (Husband). He is in good hands.”

Shooting a hand up before either Ao’nung or Neteyam could celebrate, Neteyam’s hand already having clasped itself around Ao’nung’s wrist so he could quickly drag him away from the mauri, Jake made it clear that they weren’t allowed to move an inch as he turned back to Neytiri, seeming to have some sort of silent conversation that left Jake with his shoulders sagging and a defeated sigh tumbling from his lips, the Omatikayan woman clearly being able to glare him into coming to his senses.

Sluggishly turning back to the pair, Jake’s eyes darted between Ao’nung and Neteyam before landing on the former, his expression hardening as he physically geared up to get to the bottom of this. Clearing his throat, Jake stoically asked, “What are your intentions with stealing him away?”

“I just wanted to take him on a walk,” Ao’nung uttered quickly, wanting to appease Jake before he changed his mind and decided Neteyam wasn’t allowed to leave the mauri with Ao’nung without supervision, uncaring for whatever hisses Neytiri would send his way or the pouts that would permanently etch themselves into Neteyam’s face. “Maybe go to the beach we always hang out at and talk for a bit.”

Squinting at Ao’nung, Jake tried to pick apart his story, looking for any cracks that may allow him to reject Ao’nung’s request. But when all he found was sincerity and hope in Ao’nung’s blue eyes, Neteyam even wrapped himself around Ao’nung’s arm and curled in close to him, pleading lashes being batted Jake’s way, the older man was left with nothing else to do but submit to their whims.

“Fine,” Jake huffed, clearly displeased as his tail gave one violent thrash behind him. “But I want him back here before the eclipse. And if I found out that you tried anything, I’m not letting the two of you out of my sight again, okay?”

“Yes, Sir,” Ao’nung muttered, trying not to get his hopes up when he saw the corners of Jake’s lips twitch upwards, clearly liking the honorific. It seemed, or at least in Ao’nung’s eyes, that he had once again secured Neytiri’s favour after the whole fiasco of accidentally keeping Neteyam’s presence in Awa’atlu hidden from the Sullys. Not allowing her to leave without him clearly won him some points in her books, but now Ao’nung had to deal with Jake.

And while Jake had never overly liked Ao’nung to begin with, immediately fixing Ao’nung with a glare every time he saw him after finding out there might be some mutual feelings between the boys, he had yet to give up trying to fully secure the man’s trust when it came to his son, knowing that family was something Neteyam held in high regard. 

From the moment Ao’nung had left Lo’ak outside of the reef, it had been made clear to him by Neteyam that he was never going to get anywhere unless he got along with the rest of the Sullys, even if Neteyam hadn’t intentionally given that information out. So, now that Ao’nung had a real chance of being with the Omatikayan boy, he wasn’t going to let anything get in the way of that. Not even Jake, who seemed to do everything in his power to not allow Ao’nung to get too close to him. 

And now, it seemed that Ao’nung would also have to wrangle Neteyam into line as the sliver of a smile on Jake’s features dropped when he didn’t hear a response from said boy. With a confused frown, Jake finally turned away from Ao’nung, staring annoyedly at Neteyam now. 

“Neteyam?” he asked, testing to see if the boy had simply missed his cue when Jake had made his rules clear. But when Neteyam basically ignored the call of his name, keeping himself wrapped around Ao’nung’s arm as he pouted up at Jake, clearly wanting to get out of the time limit his father had set for them, it was made even clearer to Jake who the problem child in this courtship would be. With a scowl, he warned, “That goes for you, too.”

“Fine,” Neteyam huffed after a few seconds of waiting for Jake to cave, not getting anywhere apart from Ao’nung bashfully smiling down at him, attempting to conceal some of the affection and amusement he was currently feeling since now was definitely not the time to be gloating about how precious his future mate was. It seemed Jake wasn’t faring much better though, as he let a charmed smile stretch across his face, not even bothering to hide it as Neteyam glowered his way. “But I expect full privacy. I don’t want to catch Lo’ak or Spider spying on us because you decided to change your mind.”

Thinning his lips together, Jake thought over Neteyam’s proposal. From the way the joy hadn’t yet drained from his face, it was clear that he wasn’t totally against the idea, especially if it would ensure both boys were on their best behaviour. But, then again, this was Jake they were talking about. The man had a poker face that could occasionally rival Ronal’s or Neytiri’s when the situation was dire enough. So, whatever Jake was truly thinking was beyond Ao’nung. 

With that in mind, Ao’nung could only hope that Jake would make his decision soon though, since with every second they wasted discussing the extent of their plans, they lost a second where they could be cuddled up privately on the beach instead of under Jake’s stare.

“Deal,” Jake eventually said after a few, dragged-out moments, nodding to himself in a satisfied way that made it clear that he had no plans of ever sending any of Neteyam’s siblings out to spy on him. Though, from past experiences, the two of them could never be too sure, and that alone was enough for Neteyam. “But if you're even a second late, I’m never letting the two of you out of my sight again.”

“You already said that, Dad,” Neteyam exaggeratedly rolled his eyes, pointedly ignoring the way Jake seemed to soak up the interaction. Putting all of his attention on the Metkayina next to him, Ao’nung couldn’t help but swoon as Neteyam gave his arm a light tug, not even bothering to take a proper hold of his arm as he shamelessly clung to Ao’nung. Motioning to the mauris exit with a nod of his head, Neteyam murmured as he began to drag Ao’nung towards it, “Let’s get out of here.”

“Finally,” Ao’nung sighed in relief as he turned to follow after Neteyam, getting the boy all to himself even if it took a couple of tries and a bit of convincing to get there. Lowly, so that Jake couldn’t hear even as they began making their way through the village, Ao’nung muttered, “I never thought I was going to sweep you away with how–”

“Remember, Ao’nung,” Jake cut in, calling out to the Metkayina before they could even get more than ten steps away from the Sully’s family mauri. “He'd better be back here before the eclipse.”

“Of course, Sir,” Ao’nung obediently called over his shoulder, trying not to stumble as Neteyam gave his arm a particularly hard tug, attempting to draw Ao’nung’s attention back to him and away from his father as they finally escaped him. “He won’t be even a second late.”

“Stop talking to him, Ma’Nung,” Neteyam bitterly mumbled, his hold on Ao’nung’s arm tightening as he pulled him closer, making their walk through the village slightly awkward as they shared too much space with one another. Ao’nung couldn’t help but smile at the action, though. His heart warmed as Neteyam did everything in his power to make this positioning work. But, with every step, and, consequently, with every stumble because of their close proximity, it seemed they had been set up to fail. So much so that Neteyam huffed out, “You’ll only encourage him to keep interrupting us.”

“Sorry, Yawne (Beloved),” Ao’nung couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking his head as he extracted his arm from Neteyam’s hold, allowing the two of them to walk more easily. Immediately, a look of betrayal flashed across Neteyam’s features, his lips jutting out in a pout. Despite how infatuated Ao’nung was by the look, his eyes skimming down to trace the outline of Neteyam’s mouth, he didn’t let annoyance fester for long. 

Reaching his arm out, Ao’nung happily secured the finned limb around Neteyam’s waist with his thumb drawing small circles into the skin there, staking a silent claim over the Omatikayan boy as he pulled him flush to his side and continued to walk as if nothing had happened. Only, something had happened. 

Not only were the two of them now allowed to walk much more easily through the village, no longer haphazardly bumping into each other with every step they took, but Neteyam had also let out a quiet squeak as soon as he felt Ao’nung’s hand slither into place, his face darkening two shades as a prominent hue of purple made itself at home across his skin. 

At the noise, Ao’nung couldn’t help but let a small smirk grace his features. It wasn’t every day that he got to hear such cute noises escape from Neteyam’s lips, so because of that, Ao’nung soaked in the sound, counting down the seconds until he could draw a similar one from the boy. 

“I didn’t mean to entertain him,” Ao’nung started, taking immense joy in the way Neteyam’s body momentarily froze up, his sun-kissed eyes darting down to where the two of them were making contact. Pretending as if nothing had happened though, Ao’nung took up the lead as he guided Neteyam to the edge of the village, not stopping until they reached the familiar sandy shores of a beach that they both knew and loved. “I just want to make sure I have his permission when it comes time to court you.”

“You mustn’t worry about that,” Neteyam was eventually able to muster up the courage to say, growing shy when Ao’nung shot him a confused glance, his eyes questioning as he took a seat near the water, beckoning Neteyam to do the same. Hesitantly lowering himself to the ground, Neteyam tried to summon the same confidence he had when telling Jake off as he confessed, “I’ve already told my dad that you’ve done enough to prove yourself. All you have to do is wait until this war has passed, and then we can finally begin our courtship.”

“That’s…” Ao’nung tried to smile, his face twitching in discomfort as Neteyam’s words washed over him. He should be happy. He is happy. To court Neteyam and claim him as his mate was all Ao’nung wanted. But just as his parents had chastised him, and Ti’ol had made perfectly clear to him, war was coming to Awa’atlu. 

It was inescapable, something that no amount of praying would send away. The Mangkwan and Sky People were coming back for them. With them, a whole army would be coming, a small portion of which would be coming to retrieve Neteyam just as they had done the night before. Subsequently, Ao’nung and the rest of the Metkayina would have to fight to protect their home. Unlike last time though, where he had first lost Neteyam and felt the wrath of the Sky People, Ao’nung would be on the front lines, doing whatever it took to drive the enemy away. And just like him… so would Neteyam.

Ao’nung’s stomach dropped at the thought of that. He had just gotten Neteyam back; he couldn’t afford to lose him again. Not so soon. But as Ao’nung turned to look over at Neteyam, the Omatikayan boy staring at him with expectant eyes, waiting to hear a response from him, he knew he wouldn’t be able to do anything to stop his lover, and that was just “...great.”

“What’s wrong, Ma’Nung?” Neteyam immediately asked, catching on to his shift in mood like clockwork (or however the saying Lo’ak would prattle on about went). It hadn’t been like Ao’nung was trying to hide his distaste, but he couldn’t help but feel guilty as he watched concern bleed into Neteyam’s features. If he had been a better Olo’eyktan in training, he would have been able to prevent any danger from reaching his village and future mate. If he had been a better lover, he probably would’ve been able to hide the sudden worry that was beginning to eat up at him, not allowing for Neteyam to be caught up in it. But he hadn’t been, spurring Neteyam on to ask, “Did I say something to upset you?”

“No,” Ao’nung was quick to reassure, bringing a hand up to cup Neteyam’s cheek and run a soothing thumb across the expense of his skin, trying to wipe away the concern that dimmed his features as soon as Neteyam leaned into his touch. “Of course not.”

“Then what is it?” Neteyam pressed on, not allowing for Ao’nung to wallow in his own pity as he reached for Ao’nung’s hand and cupped it with his own. 

Biting his lip, Ao’nung couldn’t help but worry at it, not exactly wanting to tell Neteyam what was plaguing his mind. Because really, how did you tell someone that all you could think about was having them stolen away from you? Neteyam shouldn’t have to worry about Ao’nung on top of the war that was already coming for them, it wasn’t fair to him when he had already been through so much. But when pleading eyes met his, Ao’nung couldn’t help but give in.

“I just can’t help but fear that I might lose you again,” Ao’nung confessed, not being able to keep his eyes on Neteyam’s as they fell to his lap. Still, his hold on Neteyam’s face remained firm, not being able to deprive himself of the contact. But when Ao’nung heard what could only be described as a sniffle, his gaze darting back up to meet Neteyam’s, where his lips quivered, and his ears had flattened against his head, he felt a piece of his heart break away. Quickly, in an attempt to mend what he had said, Ao’nung pulled Neteyam closer, the Omatikyan boy settling between his legs as he held him close, stuttering out a, “No, Neteyam, please. Don’t give me that look.”

“I’m sorry,” he tried to mutter, bringing a hand up to hurriedly wipe away the moisture that was building under his eyes, acting as if that would make the scene any better. It didn’t, though. Instead, it just reminded Ao’nung how much of an idiot and a failure he was since he couldn’t even keep his own mate lover safe. Not giving Ao’nung the chance to try and take back what he had said, Neteyam bit out, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I know,” Ao’nung nodded, releasing his hold on Neteyam’s face to instead engulf the Omatikayan boy in his arms, tugging him impossibly closer as he pressed Neteyam’s face into the side of his neck, hooking his own chin over Neteyam’s head. “Just… last night made it seem like that fear was a reality again.”

Feeling Neteyam curl into him, his collarbone growing slightly damp as tears were fought back, Ao’nung almost thought he wasn’t going to get an answer out of Neteyam, the boy much more concerned with keeping himself put together. But then, Neteyam uttered two familiar words. Two words that made Ao’nung wish he hadn’t spoken in the first place because of the amount of pain and regret that had seeped into them were almost too much for him to bear. And those two words were: “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t say that,” Ao’nung softly chided him, shaking his head despite Neteyam not being able to see him. He’d still get the message though, with how close the two of them were, feeling Ao’nung shift under his touch as he tried to reel the Omatikayan boy back in. “It’s not your fault, Ma’Teyam.”

“But it is,” Neteyam argued, pushing his face away from the comfort of Ao’nung’s neck to instead stare the Metkayina down, his welling tears no longer being restricted to sorrow as anger began to flare to life in Neteyam’s eyes. Now, if that anger were aimed at him, or the Mangkwan, or the RDA, Ao’nung had no clue. But what he did know, was that if he didn’t act soon, Neteyam would begin to take that annoyance out on himself, the telltale signs of his nails digging into his thighs and the way he bit the inside of his cheek until he winced, the pain blaring to life in front of Ao’nung’s very eyes. “I keep doing this to you.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Ao’nung attempted to soothe, taking Neteyam’s hands back into his own as he flipped the Omatikayan boy’s palms over, tracing small circles into the soft tissue of his hands as he quietly restricted him from dealing any damage to himself. In words so soft they could almost be interpreted as a coo, Ao’nung said, “Don’t think like that. You had no control over what happened.”

“But I did,” Neteyam said, trying to pull back as if he didn’t deserve Ao’nung’s care and comfort. As if he didn’t deserve to be cherished when that was the one thing Ao’nung wanted to do. “I could’ve said something, or maybe done something differently. Then you never would have had to go through that.”

“Ma’Teyam,” he sighed at the struggle, not allowing Neteyam to get too far away from him; not when he was clearly needed and to do so would be to silently give up and abandon Neteyam, even though he so clearly needed his help. Instead of pulling the Omatikayan boy in again, knowing that he would only wither in his hold, Ao’nung fixed him with an honest frown, pleading for him to calm down and listen. To see. “Please.”

It didn’t seem to matter what Ao’nung said, though. Because for every lousy piece of comfort Ao’nung tried to offer him, Neteyam’s mind had already been made up.

So, instead of trying to fight it, Ao’nung used it to his advantage.

“I know we already talked about this at the river this morning,” he continued since it was clear that Neteyam wasn’t going to say anything more, though his struggling had subsided slightly, turning to nothing but pitiful tugs that Ao’nung refused to let garner any momentum. If Neteyam wanted to blame himself, fine. Ao’nung would let him live with that for a short while. But in doing that, he would also make Neteyam realise just what he was shouldering, and make him ensure it didn’t happen again, just as he had tried to do for Ao’nung. “But I need you to promise me that when war comes, you’ll keep yourself safe.”

“Ao’nung…” Neteyam murmured, already looking defeated. Almost as if he were already a victim of the war that was coming, ready to settle whatever debt he owed the Metkayina for his trouble with the spilling of his blood. “You know it’s impossible for me to promise that.”

“I don’t care,” Ao’nung snarled, losing his cool with the Omatikayan boy for the first time since Neteyam had returned to Awa’atlu after his disappearance. Noticing the way Neteyam slightly recoiled at his tone, Ao’nung took a deep breath, trying to calm the swirling tsunami that was threatening to consume his heart. This time, much softer but still with the same amount of determination that had flared to life in his prior words, Ao’nung grit out, “I know that when war comes, you’ll be on the front lines doing whatever it takes to help my people, and I’m not trying to take that away from you.”

Neteyam’s brow muscles furrowed at Ao’nung’s words, not even beginning to understand what he was getting at as Ao’nung continued to try and calm himself, knowing now was the worst time of all to lose his cool and set the both of them back because he couldn’t properly articulate what he was thinking. 

“But if something goes wrong,” Ao’nung paused for a second, having to squeeze his eyes shut tightly, as if the very thought of something happening to Neteyam brought an unbearable pain to him. He didn’t want to imagine it; didn’t want to accidentally jinx their chances and bring his worries to life as they struggled to navigate the war. But Ao’nung had to say it. Had to get it out there and make sure they were both in agreement. “If you get hurt, or somehow fall off of Telisi, I want you to run and hide and wait until the battle is finished.”

“Ma’nung,” Neteyam tried to say, his head already shaking as if he couldn’t fathom ever running from a battle. It wasn’t the Na’vi way, after all. They would protect their home at all costs, and Neteyam was no exception to that. “I can’t just–”

“But you can,” Ao’nung cut him off, his grip on Neteyam growing higher as he released the Omatikayan boy’s hands to instead grasp at his forearms, his hold unrelenting as he made sure Neteyam heard his words. “I’ve already lost you twice, Ma’Teyam. The first time, I almost lost all hope that I’d ever see you again. The second, all I could think about was what they could be doing to you. I can not bear to go through a scare like that for a third time.”

Watching Neteyam’s eyes widen at the confession, Ao’nung almost regretted it. Key word: almost. 

No matter how much it scared him to think about, or how much it upset Neteyam to have that worry breathed to life, Ao’nung had to make sure Neteyam understood just how dear he was. He had already tried before, countless times in fact, but clearly none of those had made their mark and stuck with the boy. So now, Ao’nung had to make sure that his harrowing message rang true, even if it pained him greatly to do so.

“Eywa forbid it, but if this time it was it…” he choked on the words, his tongue suddenly growing heavy as Ao’nung felt his own eyes brim with tears, quickly looking away so that Neteyam wouldn’t have to see him like this. But when two gentle hands cupped his face, Neteyam wiping away the soft dew that was beginning to form there, Ao’nung found the courage to keep going. “If this time you actually were taken away from me for good, I don’t think I’d be able to survive without you.”

At the confession, Neteyam’s breath hitched, his hands faltering as he let Ao’nung’s words sink into him. Although the sight of it pained him, Ao’nung couldn’t help but finally think that he had achieved something. That his words had hit somewhere deep inside of Neteyam as the reality of war (despite Neteyam living through it his entire life) caught up with him.

“So I need you to promise me that if things go wrong when war reaches Awa’atlu,” Ao’nung continued, not allowing for the momentum he had finally built up to die out now that he was making progress. Reaching forward and mirroring the hold that Neteyam had on him, Ao’nung forced the Omatikayan boy to meet his eyes, not allowing him to look away for a second as he demanded, “That you’ll get out of there. I don’t care how you do it, but you need to run.”

For a few seconds after those words were spoken, a thick silence hung in the air between the pair. And for a few moments longer, as the silence grew louder than any of their words had been, Ao’nung feared that might’ve been it as Neteyam stared at him with wide, frightened golden eyes that gave away more than the Omatikayan would ever like to admit. 

In them, Ao’nung could see the pain of a boy who had grown up on the battlefield. He could see the fear of a boy who had to grow up too quickly and protect his own. He could see the worry of a boy who had to leave everything he had known behind as he ventured to unknown lands. He could see panic of a boy who had mentally lost everything, not remembering a single thing. He could see the struggle of a boy who was trying to figure out right from wrong, and lies from truth. 

But more importantly, Ao’nung could see the realisation of a boy who didn’t want to give anything up; a boy who wasn’t ready to let go again.

“Okay,” Neteyam relented, agreeing to Ao’nung’s wishes and demands without any further argument. How could he when Ao’nung had laid himself bare for him? Had shown so much vulnerability that it made Neteyam’s heart ache, and the tears he had been struggling to keep at bay want to spill. With a quiver of his lips, but this time for an entirely new reason, Neteyam professed, “I promise, Ma’Nung. I promise that if something bad happens, I’ll leave.”

“Thank you,” Ao’nung finally breathed a sigh of relief, his head dropping forward until it rested on Neteyam’s shoulder, his energy spent as the adrenaline pumping through his veins finally wore off, leaving him to deal with the aftermath as his brain stopped worrying about what was yet to happen. 

“And I promise that I’m not going anywhere this time, Tìyawn (Love),” Neteyam continued, though. Not satisfied with the answer that he had given. If Neteyam were made to run so that Ao’nung could rest easy, then it was only fair that Ao’nung would treat Neteyam to the same luxury: having peace of mind as the war grew nearer. “But I need you to promise me the same thing. Just like you, I don’t think I’d be able to go on without you by my side.”

“Of course, Yawne (Beloved),” Ao’nung said without struggle, more than happy to leave everything behind if it meant he and Neteyam would be safe, and alive, and without worry; left to enjoy each other’s company away from the rest of the world and the horrors that existed within it. “There is nothing in this world that could ever take me away from you.”

“Good,” Neteyam mused, Ao’nung’s ear twitching as the first sign of content returning to Neteyam’s voice. “Because last time I checked, I think I’m owed a new courting gift after Ti’ol broke the last one.”

“Oh, Ma’Teyam,” Ao’nung lightly chided, finally lifting his head from the comfort of Neteyam’s shoulder to be met with a coy smile. Oh, what Ao’nung would give to permanently engrave that expression onto Neteyam’s face. Or, at least, completely remove any saddened ones unless it was strictly limited to Neteyam’s huffy pout, that being the only look Ao’nung didn’t mind seeing when the Omatikayan boy was upset. Shaking his head clear of those thoughts, Ao’nung couldn’t help but tease, “Don’t mistake that lousy thing for a courting gift.”

“Lousy?” Neteyam gasped, taking offence for Ao’nung and his hard work, even though he had been the one to say it. With his tail flicking wildly behind him, his excitement made known as it smacked against the sand a few times, small puffs of the substance being blown into the air, Neteyam lightly tsked at Ao’nung, not allowing for such a thing to slide. “I don’t know about you, but I really liked the pearls.”

“Your courting gift will contain a lot more than just pearls when I’m done with it,” Ao’nung assured, though his words sounded more like a scoff as he wrapped his arms around Neteyam’s waist and pulled him in close once again. Only this time, instead of the two of them sitting face to face, Neteyam followed in the steps of his youngest sister (or, better yet, proving to Ao’nung just where Tuk had picked up on the trait) as he nuzzled into Ao’nung’s embrace, making a home for himself in Ao’nung’s arms. “Don’t you worry.”

“So you’ve already started working on it?” Neteyam gleefully asked, peering up at Ao’nung in hopes of prying some information out of him. Ao’nung, after all, should’ve known better than to reveal such valuable information to Neteyam, the boy having a love for surprises and gifts even if he never wished for those things to be kept hidden from him for long. As if to prove Ao’nung’s line of thought, he asked, “Can I see it?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Yawne (Beloved),” he chuckled, shaking his head as he pulled Neteyam impossibly closer, giving his waist a light squeeze as if to lightly chide him. “I’ll reveal it to you when the time is right.”

At that, a soft hum fell from Neteyam’s lips, seeming to like that answer enough not to prod too much at Ao’nung. Which, Ao’nung could only be internally grateful for, since he knew it wouldn’t have taken much for him to give in, showing his future mate a very lacklustre courting gift as it was nowhere near ready to be presented to him.

Feeling Neteyam relax against him, his own body following in suit as they watched the waves crash gently into the shore, white foam being left in its wake, Ao’nung felt his blood run cold as he noticed something.

“Shit–” he practically screeched, the Sky Person word that Lo’ak had taught him falling from his lips as his eyes grew to the size of the Naranawm (Polyphemus) hanging in the sky and his body lurched forward, startling Neteyam from where he sat in his hold. Whirling around to check what had happened, Neteyam was met with Ao’nung scrambling to get up, genuine fear in his actions as he cried in panic, “The eclipse is coming.”

The Tsika'u’s family mauri was warm. That had been the first thing Neteyam noticed when he followed Ao’nung into his kelku (home) after narrowly making it back in time to appease Jake’s demands, the former Sky Person having been stationed outside their hut’s entrance as if he were already ready to rip young love apart. Lucky for them, Ao’nung had noticed the eclipse coming before it was too late. And, unlucky for Neteyam’s father, the Metkayina boy had refused to leave his side even if they were just relaxing until dinner. 

But then it had been announced their final meal of the day would be in Ao’nung’s original home before they would all part ways for the night, Neteyam and Ao’nung returning to what should’ve only been a temporary solution for Neteyam while they waited to figure out what was wrong with him. However, with the war fast approaching, that momentary fix seemed to be a lot more permanent as Norm’s arrival seemed to be left on hiatus for the foreseeable future.

Neteyam wasn’t complaining, though. The mauri that had been given to him, while a bit bland in decorations, was more than enough for the Omatikayan. In fact, it was better than anything Neteyam could rightfully expect to be granted. He knew that if he had been in Ash Village, taken hostage by the Mangkwan instead of made to believe he was one of them, he’d have been strung up and left to the elements, a statement being made out of him as he was placed in the centre for the entire clan to see.

So, with Ao’nung always by his side when he needed him, not a restraint in sight after his initial abduction, and the ability to roam freely and do as he pleased, no one would find a single complaint leaving Neteyam’s mouth when it came to his sleeping arrangements. Even if it were indefinitely made his home, though he didn’t think the Sullys would be too fond of that. Not when it meant Neteyam was kept away from them for even longer.

He already knew Jake would be against the idea, Neteyam not even beginning to understand how the idea of him and Ao’nung being allowed to share a mauri alone together was approved in the first place. Either Jake hadn’t been in his right mind, or he was outnumbered, Ao’nung probably winning over Tonowari and Ronal so he could get his way. 

Neytiri, for the most part, didn’t mind, or at least that’s what Neteyam believed. Although he could definitely tell his mother didn’t like the idea of him sleeping anywhere that wasn’t under her watchful eye or within her loving reach, she hadn’t done anything outright to object the idea of Neteyam being away from here in the evenings. And it seemed as if she wouldn’t, quietly longing for Neteyam to return as she and Jake continued to try and take things easy with him, giving him space if that was what he still required. 

And while Neteyam didn’t think Kiri could really care where Neteyam spent his nights, Lo’ak, Spider, and Tuk had made their dislike, or at least distrust, for Ao’nung known. Taking after Jake in more ways than one. It was almost as if he and Ao’nung weren’t allowed to have a moment's peace alone together, one of his siblings always finding a way to insert themselves into whatever they were doing. 

And, as nighttime approached, it only seemed to get worse, doing everything within their capabilities to cling to Neteyam for a few seconds extra and disallow him from going off with Ao’nung. In all honesty, Neteyam was surprised one of them hadn’t just picked up their things and moved in with him yet. Though, he didn’t want to jinx it.

But, back to what Neteyam was thinking earlier, the Tsika'u’s family mauri, because, really, that had been what Neteyam's mind had fixated on for the entirety of dinner, was warm. It was homey in a different way than the Sullys’, a warmth bleeding into its walls after years of existing there. 

Neteyam hadn’t noticed it the first time he visited the mauri, getting dragged there by Tuk for an impromptu breakfast, since he had been a bit too preoccupied with finding his place in Awa’atlu. But now that he was seated within its woven walls, engulfed by the casual chatter of two families as they carried on like old friends, like this was something common, Neteyam couldn’t help but have his eyes opened to it. 

It made him relax. Made him feel at peace even though he, and everyone else in Awa’atlu, should be on high alert. But as the comfort of something vaguely familiar seeped into his bones, he couldn’t help but give in. That was made perfectly clear to the other Na’vi in the room as Neteyam gently leaned into Ao’nung’s side, the strenuous activities of the day prior and the sleepless night he had fought through finally catching up to him as he fought to keep his eyes open. 

If Ao’nung had still been attempting to hand-feed him the Payoang (fish) that Ronal had cooked, Neteyam quickly denied the action, no matter how much Ao’nung tried to insist, claiming that it was embarrassing and not to be done in front of his family, Neteyam was sure he wouldn’t find it so difficult to keep his eyes open. But with his belly full and too much sleep that he was more than ready to catch up on, Neteyam found himself in a losing battle.

That was, of course, until he noticed the remnants of dinner beginning to be packed away. Or, more accurately, noticed how the Sullys’ and Tsika'u’s had cleaned everything up while he sat blissfully unaware at Ao’nung’s side, leaning more weight on him than what was probably necessary. 

“Alright, kids,” Jake started, clapping his hands together to get everyone's attention as he stood tall, ready to reel any troublemakers in. Neteyam tried to offer the man his full focus, dutifully turning his body so he could face his father, but even then his eyes remained half lidded, only two seconds away from slipping shut entirely. “I think it's time we all get back to our mauris. We’ve all had a long day, some more than others, so it’s bedtime.”

A few soft groans sounded out across the room at that, mainly coming from Lo’ak and Tuk as the two of them never seemed to want to be put down to rest. But, for the most part, they were ignored, everyone seeming to be in agreement as the Na’vi began to collect themselves, and a few accusatory glances were shot Neteyam’s way.

Following suit, Neteyam sluggishly began to pick himself up, taking Ao’nung’s offered hand as he was pulled to his feet. There, he stumbled slightly, his legs feeling like jelly as he kept his hold on Ao’nung firm and leaned into his side once more.

“We’d like to thank you for your hospitality, Olo’eyktan, Tsahìk,” Neytiri began, ever the diplomat as she turned her attention to their hosts while Jake got to work on pulling Lo’ak away from Tsireya, prattling on about how they’d be able to see each other tomorrow. From the way the two were acting seamlessly together, Jake extracting Lo’ak while Neytiri handled the more customary affairs, Neteyam would say this was how most family dinners ended when the Sullys and Tsika'u’s were together. As if to further prove Neteyam’s point, Neytiri pleasantly murmured, “Dinner was lovely as always.”

“It was nothing,” Tonowari bellowed, putting no restraint on his voice as he preened under the compliment. “Our mauri will always be open to your family.”

“Yes,” Ronal murmured in agreement, though her eyes weren’t focused on Neytiri as Tonowari’s had been. Instead, her gaze had landed heavily on the way Ao’nung was propping Neteyam’s almost sleeping figure up, the two of them ready to make their leave and get settled in their own mauri. Narrowing her eyes at her son, Ronal ordered before the pair could move, “Make sure he’s put straight to bed, Ao’nung. Eywa knows he’s already gone through enough, he doesn’t also need you keeping him up.”

“I will, Mama,” Ao’nung quickly assured, making Neteyam shift in his hold as the Omatikayan boy realised that the subject of conversation had shifted to him. Trying to be at least a little bit present for it, Neteyam forced his eyes open, pinning them to Ronal as he attempted to make sense of what was going on. “You mustn’t worry, I’ll take care of him.”

“What do you mean?” Tuk’s voice sounded out from Jake’s side, her hand loosely held in his as she appeared ready to make her leave and go to sleep, not faring too much better than Neteyam had been. But with the confession of Neteyam being taken away from her, she seemed much more alert to what was going on. Looking up at Jake with a slight pinch to her face, clearly not understanding why Neteyam would be anywhere but with them, she asked her father, “Where’s Neteyam going?”

“I’m going back to the mauri Ao’nung and I have been sharing,” Neteyam answered for Jake, pulling Tuk’s attention back to him as a look of scepticism flashed across Neteyam’s own features, a sliver of worry flashing through him as he thought he might’ve missed something during his dazed state at dinner. But as he cast Ao’nung a sidelong glance, being met with nothing but the Metkayina’s own confusion, Neteyam quickly realised it hadn’t been an error on his part. So, to get to the bottom of it, he asked,  “Where else would I be going?”

“With us, Silly,” Tuk huffed, almost rolling her eyes as if her answer had been obvious. Which, to a seven-year-old, it probably was. It wasn’t exactly like Tuk knew what was wrong with Neteyam, welcoming him back with open arms despite being warned of his fractured state. With that in mind, it would only make sense that Tuk would question why Neteyam wasn’t living with them, especially since he had ‘proven’ there was no need for him to constantly be watched by guards anymore. “It’s time to come home, Teyam.”

“Home?” he couldn’t help but cautiously ask, eyes flickering between Tuk, Jake, and Neytiri. Although logically, Neteyam knew the Sully’s family mauri was his home, it had never really registered in his brain that it would one day be his too. That it would ever truly belong to him. 

The longest Neteyam had ever even been inside that mauri's walls, after all, had never been for more than a few hours. His visits were fleeting, and never without purpose. If Neteyam was there, it was never simply because he wanted to pay the Sullys a visit. The first time he ever set foot in that mauri, or at least from memory, was when he had been taken against his will and forced to wake up in a strange environment. Since then, he had only ever entered the hut twice, both of which had been at the demands of his parents. 

But like most things that came with Neteyam’s lack of memory, there was the fact that he knew the mauri had once been his home. He could feel it from the second he woke up in its woven walls, and continued to feel it each time he had set foot inside, that the hut meant something to him. And, if Neteyam carried on as he has been, it would once again be something special to him. He just had to take that initial leap.

And by the looks of things, Tuk was extending her hand to Neteyam and giving him that very opportunity. She was giving him the chance to go home and be engulfed by what was natural. By what was real and true. All he had to do to make that happen was accept her request and go with her, joining his family for something he had been missing out on for weeks now. 

Attempting to not bite down on his lip, a nervous habit Neteyam had unfortunately picked up over the years, his eyes flickered over to Jake and Neytiri, hoping to gauge their reaction to all of this. Since, at the end of the day, it was really up to them on how much of Neteyam they let back into their lives. Especially when he was like this. 

Just as they were with most things though, Jake and Neytiri were more than ready to welcome Neteyam back in with open arms. 

His father, although trying his best to remain the grounding force of the family, met Neteyam’s gaze with almost pleading eyes, his brows swopped upwards in a subtle curve to display just how hopeful he was at Neteyam’s hesitancy. Neteyam was sure his face was concussed by conflict, especially when his gaze migrated from Jake’s to Neytiri’s, immediately being met with her encouraging smile and a minuscule nod, silently telling him that it was okay to come with them without placing too much pressure on his shoulders.

It was probably silly of Neteyam to even doubt that his parents wouldn’t want him back in their mauri, in his home. But despite their clear insistence, wanting nothing more than for him to settle back into his old place within the family, Neteyam couldn’t find himself fully committing to the idea. And he knew exactly why.

That reason, while not incredibly complex or substantial, was the same reason Neteyam originally decided to stay in Awa’atlu. It was the same reason he slowly let his walls down and began to explore the possibilities that his hidden past might be able to offer him. It was the same reason Neteyam felt as comfortable as he did currently being in front of his entire family and the Olo’ekytan and Tsahìk. 

And, the reason behind all that was attached to the arm slung around his waist, helping to give him support as his half-asleep body failed to catch up with what was going on around him. 

The sole reason that Neteyam wasn’t jumping at the opportunity to spend the night with his parents and siblings was that he had already made a home for himself. A home that he had come to love and cherish as he spent a few nights and even fewer days inside of it. A home that he could proudly call his own, even if he hadn’t been there very long.

A home with Ao’nung in it.

To accept Tuk’s invitation would be to leave behind his and Ao’nung’s shared space, which, knowing the Sullys, would most likely be indefinitely. And Neteyam didn’t know if he was quite ready to give that up yet.

But as Neteyam looked to the side to face Ao’nung, wanting to get his opinion on the whole ordeal before he made any final decisions, he wasn’t met by any uncertainty or annoyance overtaking the Metkayina’s face. Instead, Ao’nung met Neteyam’s stare with his own reassuring smile, following after Neytiri as he sent the Omatikyana boy a small nod, telling him to seize the opportunity while he had it. 

That alone should’ve been enough for Neteyam. Ao’nung had given him the go-ahead. While the Omatikayan boy returned to the Sullys' family mauri, the Metkayina boy would return to the Tsika'u’s family mauri, each ending up exactly where they belonged. Their shared mauri would remain vacant until it was of need again. But it wasn’t, not when Neteyam knew just how deep Ao’nung’s desire to make him feel comfortable ran, often sacrificing his own safety in the face of it.

Inclining his head down slightly, no words were spoken, but the expression that flashed across Neteyam’s face, the raw emotions that shimmered to life in his eyes, was enough to convey a thousand words. 

Are you sure about this? I don’t have to go anywhere. I can stay with you forever. We don’t need to do anything you’re not happy with. Do you want me to decline? Perhaps I can go with them another night. Nothing has to be set in stone, not yet. Maybe we can do a trial period, just to see what it’s like? I don’t want to do anything that’ll upset you. I belong with you.

Meeting Neteyam with his own kaleidoscope of expressions, Ao’nung didn’t have to utter words or indulge Neteyam in any twitches of his features. Making his intentions clear by removing his arm from Neteyam’s waist and instead planting it on the small of his back, Ao’nung nudged him forward, manifesting everything he was thinking and answering all of Neteyam’s wordless questions in that tiny movement. 

Feeling the corners of his lips nudge up into a smile, Neteyam guessed he didn’t have to struggle to come up with an answer anymore. Not when Ao’nung had determined it for him and laid it out in the most perfect way possible. 

Turning his attention fully to his awaiting family, Neteyam couldn’t help but let his eyes skim over what was waiting for him. He soaked in how Kiri was positioned near the mauris doorway, ready to take her leave. He almost laughed at how Spider was staring on with a wide grin, his body jittering with poorly concealed excitement. His heart squeezed at the way Lo’ak had found his way back over to Tsireya, his attention only momentarily stolen to watch with a held breath as the room waited for Neteyam’s answer. And, of course, his tail gave a light flicker as he finally looked at the culprits of this whole ordeal. 

Jake and Neytiri stood wrapped up in each other, one of the man’s arms slung around Neytiri’s shoulders while the other rested on Tuk, who was perched in front of them. The little girl’s face was overcome with a broad grin, not being able to keep still for more than a second, just as Spider had been. It wasn’t like his parents were faring too much better, though. 

While they weren’t bursting at the seams, they both had a look of relief flash across their features, softening the almost timid edge that they sported with each second that dragged by without an answer. 

Taking his own controlled step towards the Sully’s Neteyam moved barely more than an inch before Tuk let out a tittering squeal. Breaking free of Jake’s hold on her, previously using her as some form of moral support, she burst towards Neteyam, easily taking hold of his hand and tugging him in the direction of the exit. 

Not even giving Neteyam a chance to say goodbye, not that he didn’t try, throwing a quick glance over his shoulder to try and meet the Tsika'u’s amused eyes or Ao’nung’s casual smirk, she began dragging him in the direction of the Sully’s mauri, not allowing anything to come between her and the willpower that was fueling her movements.

Distantly, Neteyam could hear the rest of their family slowly beginning to follow behind them, though he was much more concerned with not slipping off the woven pathways linking the village together and falling into the quiet ocean below. It was only when they arrived did Neteyam settle, no longer worried with Tuk’s haphazard way of moving around, and her seemingly addiction to dragging Neteyam after her, as she dropped his hand in favour of running over to a specific side of the mauri, fishing some out from where it had been tucked away.

“Can you help me set up my hammock?” she breathlessly asked as she raced back over, showing off the folded fabric as it began to unravel from how loosely she was holding onto it. At the simple task, Neteyam felt his heart warm slightly, even if it wasn’t exactly a big favour that Tuk was asking him of. Before Neteyam could answer though, having just barely taken the sleeping equipment into his hands, Tuk was darting off again, her face alight as she declared, “Oh, let me get yours too. That way we can have our hammocks together!”

“Hey, what if I wanted to sleep next to Neteyam?” Lo’ak huffed as soon as he stepped into the mauri, catching the end of Tuk’s sentence and immediately inserting himself in what was going on before Neteyam could even figure out how to react to being the centre of his family’s attention, all of them seemingly wanting to be near him. “You can’t get your way just because you're the youngest.”

“I don’t care,” Tuk stuck her tongue out, taking delight in the scoff that escaped Lo’ak in response. Swapping hammocks with Neteyam, the older boy now holding what he presumed used to be his, Tuk pointed out where he needed to secure the different strings in place, watching closely as he did before thrusting her own hammock into his hands to do the same. “Neteyam’s my big tsmukan (brother), I should get to be by his side.”

“He’s all of our big brother, snaytu (loser),” Lo’ak butt in again, not even giving Neteyam the chance to rephrend him for speaking to Tuk that way before he was rushing over to where his own bedding was kept. Scooping it up into his hands, Lo’ak began hastily unfolding it as he made his way over to Neteyam. Almost bumping into Neteyam’s side as he skidded over, Lo’ak rightfully claimed the free space next to his, poorly setting his hammock up before anyone else could take it.”

Raising an invisible brow at the setup, Neteyam dutifully decided not to question how close Lo’ak had placed his hammock to his, the two limp pieces of fabric being closer than what Neteyam would deem safe. 

“That’s not fair,” Spider yelped soon after his, Kiri, Jake, and Neytiri’s arrival, the four of them clearly not seeing any reason to rush through the village at such a late hour. In an instant, Neteyam’s attention was on the Sky Person, trying not to smile as the physical pain that crossed Spider’s face at being left out. With a disgruntled cry, he yelled, “What about the rest of us?”

“Bro, you snooze, you lose,” Lo’ak couldn’t help but cackle despite being in the exact same predicament only moments ago. Walking over to Spider without any fear of losing his claim, his hammock dutifully staying upright despite its slipping form, Lo’ak clapped a hand onto the human’s back, consoling him on his loss. Shooting the boy a halfhearted shrug, Lo’ak offered, “But maybe you can sleep under him. Like a bunkbed, you know?”

“Oh, that would be sick,” Spider grinned after a few seconds of pondering the idea, seeming to silently measure the distance between Neteyam’s hammock and the floor. If he had been an uniltìrantokx (Avatar / Dreamwalker), it wouldn’t have been possible. But thanks to his tiny frame, being no bigger than Tuk, he’d be able to find a home there sungly. “Hold on, let me find my hammock.”

As Spider darted away, Neteyam was helpless to watch the chaos that ensued as he tried to desperately make Lo’ak’s idea work, basically situating himself so he’d be lying on the floor with his head and feet slightly raised. 

Shooting Jake and Neytiri a quick glance to see if they would do anything about what was going on, he only found mirth lacing their features, Jake himself looking two seconds away from joining in on the fun and trying to claim himself a spot near Neteyam. Only, he probably would just use his title as ‘Dad’ to get his way, moving poor Lo’ak to the side since he could never punish Tuk like that. 

“They’re skxawngs (morons), aren’t they?” Kiri mused as she came up beside Neteyam, her eyes dancing over the scene as it unfolded. 

“Yeah,” Neteyam breathed, the words coming out as a sigh. Despite not wanting to call his siblings that, there was no other way to describe them, and what they were doing, right now. It was pure, idiotic, fun. And the fact that they were doing it all for Neteyam somehow made it worse. “They are.”

Although Kiri wasn’t directly partaking in the drama, not surprising Neteyam in the slightest, he did notice how the girl hadn’t moved from his side to set up her own hammock, keeping him at most an arm's distance away as she began getting ready for bed by taking a few pieces of jewellery off. Now, Neteyam didn’t want to be self-centred, knowing that it could be for a number of reasons, but he couldn’t help but get his hopes up that maybe, just maybe, Kiri was as desperate as the others. 

Knowing that it would be impossible for her to comfortably get a spot next to Neteyam for bed, Neteyam liked to think that Kiri was just enjoying her time with Neteyam now, while it lasted, before she’d have to subsequently go to bed a bit further away from him than the rest of their family. 

Neteyam’s suspicions were almost confirmed, too, when Kiri brushed past him, their shoulders bumping in the guise of her having to squeeze past him despite how much space she had. 

Just as everything had been set up though, Lo’ak clambering into his hammock and almost sending himself falling to the ground, Tuk paitently waiting for Neteyam so he could tuck her in, Spider sitting cross-legged next to his bed so Neteyam could get in first, and Kiri still clinging to the last moments of free time she would have with Neteyam before bed, Jake cleared his throat, loudly grabbing the attention of everyone in the mauri. 

“Since we haven’t been able to do this in a while, I thought tonight would be the perfect time for a…” he started, eyes dancing around the room as he took in the equally confused looks that were being shot his way. After a moment of allowing everyone to ponder what was going on, Neteyam shooting the man a suspicious frown, Jake threw his arms open in invitation and exclaimed, “Group hug!”

Just as she always is, Tuk was the first to respond, throwing herself forward and crashing into Neytiri’s side, the woman being much closer than Jake had been. Wrapping her arms tightly around Neytiri’s legs, one of the older woman’s hands coming down to settle on the back of her head, a giggle pouring out from her mouth. 

Before Neteyam can even fully comprehend what’s going on, he feels Lo’ak’s hand take hold of his wrist, whipping him forward as he sprints over to Jake’s open arms. The two boys went slamming into Jake’s embrace, the older man not having a single care in the world as he engulfed them. 

As Jake’s arms came to wrap around him, Lo’ak somehow snaking his arm up to hug Neteyam’s shoulders, Neteyam felt his chest expand with warmth, his face lighting up into the biggest smile he had donned since landing back in Awa’atlu as small puffs of laughter fell from his lips, his body shaking with joy as he fully gave into what was happening. Throwing his own arms around his brother and father, Neteyam snuggled as close as he possibly could, soaking up all the contact that they were willing to give him.

“Hey, save some room for me,” Spider snapped, launching himself to his feet as he bolted over to the trio, completely bypassing Neytiri and Tuk as they snuggled close to one another, Kiri slowly making her way over to join the huddle. With a bellowing shout, Spider threw himself over at the boys, “Incoming!”

“Spider,” Lo’ak gasped, trying to tug himself free from Jake and Neteyam’s grip so he could escape the impact, only to be held in place, a cry of defeat rattling through his bones. “Wait!”

With no time to try and catch the Sky Person flying through the air towards them, Spider was hurled into the group hug, not a single one of them being able to soften the blow. Because of that, Spider smashed into the three Na’vi with an unmatched force, Jake’s arms being the only barrier between his pink body and Neteyam’s back. That offered Neteyam little comfort though, since as soon as Spider made contact, they were all tumbling to the floor in a mess of limbs.

Jake crashed into the mauris woven ground hard, having the weight of two lean Omatikayan boys and a taller-than-average Sky Person landing on him as they crashed. A puffed-out groan immediately fell from his lips, his body creaking at the odd action. But instead of withering in pain or scolding Spider for the abrupt attack, Jake only pulled his boys in closer, nuzzling them into his chest as a throaty chuckle echoed in the air.

“Looks like we’ve got a dog pile,” Spider laughed, not at all being thrown off by the sudden shift in positioning as he scooted off of Neteyam and instead wrestled Lo’ak into place, the two of them tussling as Jake tried to reel them in and settle them in for bed.

“I think you mean a cuddle pile, Spider,” Tuk squealed, dragging Kiri and Neytiri over with her as she tried to squish her way into the action, not caring where she ended up. 

One by one, each member of the Sully family found themselves pressed shoulder to shoulder and limb to limb with someone else, Neteyam getting the worst of it all as he was somehow pressed into Jake’s side, Tuk ending up on his front, while Neytiri flanked him on the other, his parents not being able to resist keeping him close in the slightest.

It was almost ironic, actually. With how much his siblings were trying to be the ones close to him, they ended up being the furthest away. Well, all of them but Tuk. But as Neteyam lay there, soft bursts of laughter sounding out through the air, warmth radiating from all around him, both physically and metaphorically, and a family that loved him making him feel at home, he didn’t seem to mind the change in circumstances.

In fact, he welcomed it, snuggling deeper as he felt his body finally begin to relax again, welcoming the sleep he had been deprived of for well over a day now. This was nice. It was something that Neteyam could get used to. 

And because of that, he fell asleep with a smile on his face and a soft rumbling emitting from his chest, uncarring of what was to come tomorrow.

When Ao’nung thought about it like that, and how the only physical mark Neteyam had been able to make on his home was one he played no part in, Varang laying waste to Metkayina culture as she left a path of destruction and carnage wherever she stepped, he felt his heart tear into two. Neteyam had never wanted this; instead wanting to be seen as strong and kind, yet it was the legacy he left behind unbridled. 

Even as he had been manhandled away, his body weak from the tsaheylu he was forced to undergo and unable to fight off the hands of a man he despised, Ao’nung couldn’t see him as anything but brave, fighting with every ounce of strength while the rest of them stood around uselessly, letting one of their own be taken without so much as a struggle. 

The clan was disgraceful. The Metkayina were pitiful. 

But worst of all, he was pathetic. Because even though Neteyam shouldn’t have had to fight when there was an entire army of warriors at his disposal, he chose their peace over his comfort, and Ao’nung had just allowed for that to happen, only stepping in for his own selfish gain when his claim had been challenged.

He was undeserving, and because of that, it was warranted that Ao’nung remained there in the ruins of a battlefield that never quite got to be, wallowing in what he could’ve done differently. Even as the number of warriors surrounding him dwindled, the crowd growing smaller and smaller until it was just him, he couldn’t find it in himself to move, not when one of the few promises he had made Neteyam had just been broken so easily. It was a shame that Tsireya had other plans for him, though.

“You must rest, Brother,” she softly called as one of her hands brushed against Ao’nung’s shoulders, her fingers curling into the skin there as she attempted to gently coax him in the direction of their family mauri, a home that no longer felt as though it belonged to him anymore. “It’s been a long day, and the events of tonight have been devastating. Please, go home and speak to Mother about this.”

“I can’t,” Ao’nung said, his voice trembling as he shook his head with an agony that had Tsireya’s lips thinning together, her face falling at the sight. Extracting Tsireya’s hand from him, Ao’nung stumbled back, moving for the first time since Neteyam had been stolen away. “Not when he’s out there all alone.”

“Ao’nung, think rationally about this,” Tsireya begged, following after her brother and desperately trying to reach out to him, hoping to be the grounding support that he needed. Ao’nung didn’t let her, though, smacking her hand away from him before she could even get close enough to make contact. But she didn’t let that deter her, instead doubling down as she called out to him, “There’s nothing that you can do to help him. Neteyam is strong. He will find his way back to us.”

“No,” he shouted, as if letting those words hang in the air for too long would make them come true. “There has to be something I can do. I already failed him once, I can’t let that happen again.”

“Brother, please,” Tsireya tried pleading again, her ears folding against her head as she watched the distress grow on Ao’nung’s features. Although it pained her to have to say this, wanting more than anything to see Neteyam and his father return safely to their shores, she, as well as the rest of Awa’atlu, had learned of the danger that the Sky People posed. “You must listen to me.”

“I can’t, Tsireya,” Ao’nung scoffed, his brain finally kicking itself back into gear as he took in his surroundings in more detail. Not too far from him was his spear, the same one that he had threatened Ti’ol with, and dropped not too long after witnessing Neteyam being taken away from him. With his mind made up, Ao’nung declared, “Not until I have him back.”

Before Tsireya could properly understand what he was doing, Ao’nung kicked his foot under the weapon, hitting it up into the air, where he tightly grasped onto it, securing it in his hold before he was running, Tsireya becoming nothing more than a distant figure as she cried, “Brother!”

Ao’nung didn’t stop, though. Not at her startled shout, not at the burning in his lungs, and not at the ache he could feel starting to grow in his legs. 

To him, none of that mattered, not when he was being guided forward by the breaking of his heart.

Like the moon cycles, Ao’nung found it to be no surprise when he wound up at the Sully’s family mauri. In fact, it was only natural that he ended up there, returning to the place where his and Neteyam’s official love story began. 

Bursting through the entryway as if he had any right to be in their home, Ao’nung’s eyes darted around the space, hoping to spot a particular Na’vi. Out of all of the Sullys, apart from maybe Lo’ak, though he was knocked out, so he didn’t count, there was only one of them who would be crazy enough to let him embark on a journey across the sea in an attempt to get his beloved back.

Neytiri.

Stalking around the mauri as if time were on her side, Neytiri strapped a quiver to her hip, tightening the leather bands beyond what was needed to secure the fabric in place before grabbing hold of a metal storage entrapment and pulling it out from its disclosed location. 

Clicking the lid of the Sky Person unit open, Neytiri pulled out an arrow, the head of which had been moulded. Taking a closer look at it, his eyes squinting to try and make out what it could possibly be, Ao’nung noticed another device of those demons strapped to it, the handiwork of which had clearly been done by Jake, as it didn’t seem to be the most secure, or even reliable, weapon that a Na’vi would make. Just the sight of Neytiri holding it was a shock in itself. 

Slipping the arrow into the quiver at her hip, the Sky Person end facing upwards, it didn’t take long for Neytiri to fish out a few more arrows of the same design, her handling of the arrows being scarily gentle, telling Ao’nung that just like many things created by the Sky People, there would be great destruction in its wake.

As she worked, she paid no mind to Ao’nung, not even daring to glance in his direction, because if she did, she knew she wouldn’t be able to keep it together. She had only just gotten her son back, steadily working their way up until Neteyam had fully adjusted into their family, and just as he seemed ready, he had been ripped away from her once again. But this time, he didn’t go alone. Jake had been taken as well, a gruesome fate waiting for him. That’s why, for that exact same reason, she hadn’t gone yet to retrieve Kiri and Tuk, or to check in on Lo’ak, knowing that by doing so, she’d lose the strength she needed to get out there and be strong for her family. For those who couldn’t be strong right now.

“I want to go with you,” Ao’nung declared when he realised that standing there and waiting for Neytiri to offer him her attention would get him nowhere. With a puffed-out chest and the length of his spear put on display, Ao’nung forced himself to look the part of the warrior he was meant to be. 

“Don’t be foolish, 'Evengan (Boy),” Neytiri coldly said, brushing past Ao’nung as she slung her bow over her shoulder, keeping it there for safekeeping as she made her way out of the mauri. Not allowing the woman to leave his sight for a moment, knowing that she only needed a second to disappear without a trace, Ao’nung stormed after her, trying not to huff like an insolent child who hadn’t got their way. “You will be of no use to me. Stay with your people and your reef.”

“But I can help you,” Ao’nung prattled from a step behind her, his jaw clenched in determination. Ao’nung had already failed to be there for Neteyam once; he wasn’t going to make that same mistake again. So, whether Neytiri liked it or not, he wasn’t going to allow her to leave without him. “I’m a warrior just like you, signalled by the completion of my Iknimaya and the tattoo that I bear. It’s my right to go after him. You can’t deny me that.”

“Your right?” Neytiri scoffed, rounding on Ao’nung, finally allowing him a peek at her devastated golden eyes as they glowered down at him, not even bothering to hide her animosity for him. “You have no rights. Not with my family.”

“I do,” Ao’nung argued, practically looking death in the eye as he stood up to Neytiri, pushing forth into his rightful duty despite her insistence on shutting him out. Swallowing thickly and forcing himself not to waver under Neytiri’s unrelenting glare, Ao’nung raised his chin and stated, “As Olo’eyktan in waiting and Neteyam’s chosen future mate, I have every right to come with you.”

The silence that followed Ao’nung’s claim was thick, neither he nor Neytiri wanting to back down as they both stood firmly behind their beliefs. While Neytiri had every right to forbid Ao’nung from going, having more years of experience as a warrior than he had been alive, he was more than justified in wanting to retrieve his soon-to-be mate, only following in Neytiri’s own footsteps. 

Due to that, it caused tensions to rise and forced Ao’nung to not submissively cower before her. If he did that, though, it would be a done deal. Ao’nung would be forced to stay in Awa’atlu, once again useless while Neteyam struggled. So, with the persistence of a hungry Pxazang (Akula), Ao’nung refused to retreat.

Fixing his posture and shooting Neytiri a glare of his own, Ao’nung doubled down, ready to argue even further if that’s what the woman before him required in order to let him come. But then, by some miracle, Neytiri relented. With an annoyed scrunch of her face, her features twisting together in a grimace, as if to tell Ao’nung she knew she couldn’t fight his claims, she backed away from him, wordlessly declaring her defeat as she turned away and let out a shout of annoyance. 

Really, it was times like these that Ao’nung would like to quickly thank Eywa for giving him a mother as fierce as Ronal, because without that, he truly didn’t know what he’d do with himself otherwise. 

“Ugh, arguing with you is useless, you only waste time,” she huffed, snapping around and continuing her walk until she was perched on the woven pathway directly outside of her mauri, stopping there and expectantly looking towards the village. Only, her gaze didn’t peer into the lined up housed, but instead over them, glancing further than what Awa’atlu had to offer. “How would you even get there? Your Tsurak (Skimwing) can only fly so far without water.”

Fuck. Ao’nung hadn’t thought about that. 

He had been far too caught up with just being allowed on this mission that he hadn’t even considered how he was going to get there.

And Neytiri was right, not that she was wrong often. Despite his Tsurak being able to take to the skies, Vurpay (Story of Water) would eventually have to dive back into the depths of the sea. Even if that wasn’t an issue though, there would be nowhere for his mount to stay and rest while he and Neytiri took to the base, forcing him to be left to flail around uncomfortably away from where he was safest until Ao’nung returned. That was, if he even survived that long out of the water.

Thinning his lips together, Ao’nung felt his hands clench into tight fists at his sides as he was once again faced with another obstacle in his quest to bring Neteyam home. If only he had acted when he had the chance instead of being just as useless as Neytiri claimed he was, then maybe none of this would be happening, and he wouldn’t need a reason to be able to fly–

“Telisi,” Ao’nung exclaimed as soon as Neteyam’s winged beast of a companion popped into his head, his face abruptly lighting up with a brilliant smile as if he had just come up with a solution for all of Pandora’s problems. “I can fly with her.”

“Has Neteyam taught you nothing?” Neytiri, however, hissed immediately in response to that, clearly not liking the idea that Ao’nung had posed. With her tail lashing crazily behind her, her face morphing into an expression that told Ao’nung that Neytiri found what he had just said to be incredibly stupid. “An Ikran bonds for life. They only allow for one rider to connect with them and see the world as they do. Telisi will not allow for you to form tsaheylu with her.”

“What if I didn’t have to bond with her?” Ao’nung suggested in return, trying to think of anything possible that could work in getting him in the air and to wherever Neteyam was being held. After all, flying on the back of an Ikran couldn’t be so hard. He’d already mastered an Ilu and a Tsurak; what was one more animal to the list? “If Telisi allowed me to sit on her back without tsaheylu, could that work?”

Staring at Ao’nung in horror for a few moments, never meeting someone crazy enough to ride on an Ikran while remaining unbonded to it, Neytiri took a moment to contemplate her own rate of survival if she allowed this skxawng (moron) to come with her. Then, with an exasperated exhale, her hands coming together momentarily to pray, she muttered, “Great Mother, give me strength.”

“So you think it’ll work?” Ao’nung hesitantly asked in response to Neytiri’s dramatic display, feeling some of that confidence he had gained earlier slip out from underneath him.

“I think if you want to be foolish enough to try, then that’s not my problem,” she grunted, turning away from Ao’nung before he got any more stupid ideas and decided now was the time to congress them. “Already, we have wasted enough time discussing this. We must act now.”

Nodding, despite Neytiri not being able to see it, Ao’nung felt his stomach swoop with pride for all of two seconds, a gut-churning sickness quickly replacing it when Neytiri let out two clicking whistles. One of them, he didn’t recognise, the foreign sound of her voice sailing through the air as she called out for her own Ikran, while the second, he did, having heard Neteyam create that noise far too many times in the past. Though, whenever he did it, it was much deeper, almost sounding like music to Ao’nung’s ears.

With fluttering wings, two Ikran came sailing over the top of the village, Telisi letting out a loud screech once her beady eyes locked onto Ao’nung and Neytiri, instantly noticing the absence of her bonded companion. While Neytiri’s Ikran (Sa’ata, he thinks he remembers Neteyam telling him that was what she was called) gracefully landed on the thin walkway, Telisi harshly swooped into the space, almost bulldozing into Ao’nung as her jaw snapped a few times experimentally.

Not even sparing Ao’nung a glance, Neytiri ran her hand along Sa’ata’s beak, letting out a soft coo that broke off near the end as she made tsaheylu with the creature. Wordlessly, all of her sorrows from the past hour were expressed to the Ikran, her pupils dilating as she felt Neytiri’s pain, sharing it for the time being. 

Flinging herself onto Sa’ata’s back, Ao’nung noticed for the first time that neither of the two weren’t adorned with saddles, panicking slightly as he saw Neytiri easily make herself comfortable before taking to the skies. 

“Wait,” Ao’nung tried helplessly calling out when Neytiri showed no signs of pausing and allowing for Ao’nung to mount Telisi. Instead, she pushed forward, Sa’ata’s wings flapping in the last known direction the Mangkwan and Sky People had been heading. Still, Ao’nung attempted to get her attention again, hoping for the best as he hesitantly shouted, “Neytiri?”

But just like before, he was ignored. Leaving him behind. Alone. With Telisi by his side. An Ikran he often referred to as crazy in his mind.

Oh, he was so screwed. Eywa help him now. 

Cautiously turning to the beast beside him, Ao’nung made the foolish mistake of making eye contact with Telisi, almost meeting his end when the Ikran snapped her jagged teeth at his face. Stumbling back with a less-than-dignified shout, Ao’nung raised his hands in surrender, trying to calm her.

“Whoa, Telisi,” he fumbled out, trying to offer her a smile, though he thinks the creature probably just took it as some form of animalistic warning. “You remember me, right? You helped me talk to Neteyam the other night despite him trying to run away.”

At the mention of Neteyam, Telisi let out a pained cry, her head rushing back and forth as she tried to catch sight of him. The action, however, brought a great ache to Ao’nung’s chest, knowing that no matter how hard she looked, she wouldn’t be able to find Neteyam, at least not here. But maybe, and just maybe, Telisi’s own anguish at not seeing her rider was a good thing. It would give the two of them some common ground, a reason for her to trust Ao’nung beyond tsaheylu so that they could somehow make this work and bring Neteyam home. Together.

“He’s not here, Telisi. The Mangkwan and Sky People took him,” Ao’nung dejectedly called to her, his own face falling as he voiced the reminder of his failure. “But Neytiri knows where they’ve taken him… or at least I think she does– anyway, that’s not important. What’s important is that we can get him back. But to do that, I need your help, Telisi.”

His words easily caught Telisi’s attention, her head twitching from side to side every time he finished a sentence or jumped between thought processes. 

“I can’t help Neteyam with my Tsurak, or even my spirit brother,” he confessed, quietly glad that neither of the two creatures was anywhere nearby to hear him talk down on them, even if it were the truth. The last thing Ao’nung needed, after all, was a grumpy Tsurak or Tulkun who’d make him swim everywhere himself. “They can’t take me to him. But you can. You can fly further than they can swim, so please, Telisi, give me this one chance to save Neteyam. Otherwise, I’m not sure if we’ll ever see him again.”

A loud squawk tumbles from Telisi’s mouth at that, bristling as Ao’nung put the idea of never being able to fly with her chosen companion again into her head, clearly making her heart drop as she grappled with it. As much as he hated to do it, Ao’nung, facing his own demons and trying to battle past them in favour of staying strong and getting to Neteyam before something bad happens, it needs to be said if they want to pull this off.

“Let me fly with you,” Ao’nung practically demanded, his hands extending before him in a peace offering, copying the same actions he had seen Neteyam do countless times before when trying to soothe the Ikran. “Trust me for a few hours and follow Neytiri’s lead while I sit on your back, and I promise you, I will bring Neteyam back to you.”

For a few moments, Telisi stared at Ao’nung, allowing him to make eye contact with her as she searched what felt like his soul for an answer to a question he didn’t know. 

During this time, Ao’nung stood there obediently, half dragging his hopes down so he wouldn’t be too crushed by her rejection when it finally came, while simultaneously worrying about how far away Neytiri had gotten, not wanting to fall behind any more than they already had. 

But just as all hope was about to abandon him, Ao’nung’s head already dropping and his shoulders slumping forward in defeat, two seconds away from letting all the negative emotions of the evening catch up with him and pour out from his body in whatever means they deemed necessary, Telisi did something that Ao’nung had never dreamed of happening.

She pushed her beak into his hands, allowing for him to cradle her head.

Almost gasping at the contact, his eyes positively bulging out of his head at what was occurring before him, Ao’nung couldn’t help but grin, quickly running his fingers along the side of Telisi’s face as he pulled her closer, bumping her snout into his chest. 

“Thank you, Telisi,” he whispered, his eyes growing glassy as the weight of the Ikran’s actions settled within him. This was his one chance, something that was only happening because of his and Telisi’s shared love for Neteyam. He couldn’t mess it up. He wouldn’t mess it up, not even if Eywa herself intervened and decided that the Mangkwan was where Neteyam was supposed to stay. He’d make this right. “Now, let’s go and get our boy.”

The grip Ti’ol had on Neteyam’s waist was tight. In fact, it was bruising, making an already horrid flight across Pandora even worse. 

If Neteyam had things his way, which he doubted would be happening for a very long time after the fiasco of his Iknimaya, he would’ve flown with anyone but Ti’ol. He would’ve even walked to whatever base Quaritch had been referring to back on the beach if it meant not having to put up with Ti’ol and his insisting hold on him. 

Even sitting behind Ti’ol instead of having his back pressed up against the warrior's chest would’ve been a step up from the positioning he was currently forced to be in, because then, at the very least, he wouldn’t have to worry about Ti’ol’s hands dipping too low or his teeth ‘accidentally’ grazing his neck. But then again, there wasn’t much use in allowing a hostage to sit behind their captor, not when it allowed them to have easy access to their defenceless kuru. So, unfortunately for Neteyam, he had been stuck like that for the entire flight to the Sky People’s base.

A few times throughout the flight, when Neteyam let his mind wander as Ti’ol’s touch would grow too much, Neteyam quickly learning that hissing and snapping at the other would only spur his movements on, he would wish that he had been strapped down in one of the helicopters that whirled through the air, similarly to how his father had been. 

Because at least then, Neteyam didn’t have to be brave. He could fall apart and not have to worry about the unwanted hands that were wrapped around him. 

Fortunately, though, that flight would be coming to an end very soon, or at least Neteyam believed it would be. Since when he opened his eyes next, previously having closed them to bite down the urge of trying to shove Ti’ol off his Ska'avum (Nightwraith) at an offhanded comment he had made, already having tried and failed that once, Neteyam came face to face with a large concrete wall that seemed to stretch higher than what he had imagined Hometree to. 

Feeling his lungs give out as they approached the giant wall, Neteyam’s heart dropped when he noticed the snipers that lined it, watchtowers with anti-air turrets immediately powering to life and aiming their guns at their inbound flock of metal and beasts.

Right, this was it. This was the part where Neteyam died because the Mangkwan had been stupid enough to trust the RDA and got themselves all killed because of it. The Sky People had no use for them now since they had captured Jake, because let's face it, it had always been about him: Toruk Makto. A manhunt that had driven the Sullys from their home, forcing them to flee their clan, the Omatikaya, in order to seek uturu with the Metkayina.

And because of that, because his father had somehow managed to betray an entire race of Sky People, and because Neteyam had somehow been caught in the crossfire due to his temporary stay with the Mangkwan, he was going to die. Right now. In the arms of a Na’vi he loathed. Riding a creature that wasn’t his Telisi.

Eywa, there were so many things he wanted to do before he died as well. 

Like, get his memories back, apologise to his family for all the distress, anguish, and sorrow he had caused them, thank the Olo’eyktan and Tsahìk for their hospitality towards him, and finally make Ao’nung his mate after so many months of dancing around one another.

There was probably more than that, too. Or at least he thought there was. He couldn’t really remember what his old self wanted to accomplish before finally kicking the bucket.

Neteyam would never find out what was on that list either as they approached the wall, bracing for impact as he saw the barrels of guns point their way, knowing that it would be a bloody way to go, but also hopefully a quick one. 

But then, before a single bullet could touch his skin, his shoulders already hunched up to his ears and his eyes squeezed shut tightly, nothing happened. The Ska'avum’s (Nightwraith’s) wings kept beating, and he and Ti’ol kept flying through the air, never once feeling the aching pierce of a bullet shredding through him, or the slap of wind smacking against his face as he was dislodged from the Ska'avum’s (Nightwraith’s) back and forced to plummet to his death with no means of saving himself.

In fact, before Neteyam knew it, Ti’ol and the rest of the Mangkwan army that had accompanied Varang on this raid, and the RDA helicopters that had come with them, were being guided down to a strip of cement where a few thousand Sky People were waiting for their arrival, some more egar than others as they shoved small blue devices forward, trying to capture the sight of their prisoners. 

Upon seeing them, Neteyam immediately tried to shrink back, although Ti’ol didn’t allow him to get far, reminding him of the bruising hold he currently had on his waist as it only tightened now that they were descending towards the ground, preparing himself for any tricks Neteyam might try to play on him.

Harshly commanding his Ska'avum (Nightwraith) to the cement landing strip that had been cleared out just for them, Ti’ol didn’t even try to be gentle as he tore Neteyam away from his mount's saddle, adjusting his hold so he had both hands on clutching onto Neteyam’s own from behind, disallowing him any wiggle room as he dragged him over to where Varang and Quaritch had landed, keeping himself close by in case any orders were barked his way. 

Coming to a stop slightly behind the duo, Neteyam immediately tried struggling out of Ti’ol’s grip, thrashing as if his life depended on it, which… it might, and not caring for any of the jeering shouts that were coming from the Sky People as they enjoyed the show.

“Stop this at once, ma’itan (my son),” Varang hissed at the commotion, her eyes flaring with anger as she witnessed the shame Neteyam was bringing to their clan, his foolishness disgracing them in front of the Sky People and their superior warriors. When Neteyam paid her no mind though, her words only seeming to make him fight harder, her anger flashed to Ti’ol, her upper lip curling into a snarl that had him shuddering beneath it. Quickly, she snapped, “Get him under control, Ti’ol.”

“Yes, Tshaìk,” Ti’ol cried out before he could think twice, letting go of one of Neteyam’s arms to instead grab onto his kuru, his grip tightening until Neteyam was momentarily blinded by a white searing pain. Yanking his head back until Neteyam’s ear was directly next to his mouth, Ti’ol spat, “Stop struggling, you kalweyaveng (son of a bitch / child of a poisonous spider). You’re going to ruin everything I’ve been working towards.”

“Good, kurkung (asshole),” Neteyam scoffed, not at all batting an eye when Ti’ol pulled on his kuru harder, forcing him to bear his neck in submission and expose one of the most vulnerable parts of his body to the Sky People. In retaliation, Neteyam quickly raised his free elbow and rammed it back into Ti’ol’s face, making blood gush out from his nose, and a groan of pain erupt from his lips, as he grunted, “Why would I ever want to see a txanfwìngtu (bastard) like you succeed?”

At his words, a manic laugh fell from Ti’ol’s lips, small puffs of air smacking against Neteyam’s face as he did. For a moment, Neteyam thought Ti’ol had truly lost it, that one act of defiance making the remainder of his sanity slip away, before he was harshly being thrown back, Ti’ol spitting out, “Oh, now you’ve done it, you–”

“Watch yourself around my son,” Jake’s voice cut through the air like a knife, making Ti’ol momentarily freeze as he turned to face the Na’vi. 

Now, everyone knew who Jake Sully was, the great uniltìrantokx (Avatar / Dream Walker) who led the clans to victory against the Sky People. But, as he stood before them with his arms bound behind his back, two Sky People on either side of him in metal suits that made them taller, Jake didn’t look like a warrior who should be feared. Instead, he seemed every bit of the exhausted father that he was, looking out for Neteyam even when his own life was in danger. 

And because of that, Ti’ol laughed. He cackled right in front of Jake’s face as if he were some form of joke. Which, to Ti’ol and every other Na’vi and Sky Person present, Jake was a joke. A very bad one that would be put to rest soon enough.

Neteyam didn’t care for Ti’ol’s mockery or the embarrassment he was making out of himself, not when his father was so close, but at the very same time, too far away for him to do anything tangible; anything worthy of a last-ditch effort to break free and reach out to him. But just as Neteyam said before, he didn’t care, so he tried anyway.

“Jake,” he cried out, trying to lunge forward despite Ti’ol’s unshakeable grip on him. But like all of Neteyam’s attempts before this, he didn’t get very far, instead being met with a rude awakening as Ti’ol slammed him back against his own chest, making his teeth clank tightly together at the rough handling. Still, Neteyam tried and tried again, painfully uttering out as he did, “I’m sorry, Sir. This is all my fault. I knew they would come eventually, and I didn’t say anything. I should’ve done more to prepare you.”

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay, Neteyam. Everything’s going to be okay,” Jake shushed him, his words a delicate coo regardless of the situation they were in. Because, regardless of the inevitable death that was waiting for him, all that mattered to Jake was Neteyam and what would happen to him. His child’s safety and comfort being his top priority. “We’re going to get through this like we always do. Sully's stick together after all.”

“Right,” Neteyam muttered, nodding numbly as he did his best to listen to Jake’s words and hope for the best. It was fine. They would be fine. Neteyam would find a way to make this right. Jake wouldn’t pay for his mistakes. So, with that in mind and a slight grimace to his face, Neteyam echoed him, “Sully’s stick together.”

Hearing those words come from Neteyam’s mouth immediately brought a smile to Jake’s face, uncaring for the world around them as he heard his boy finally consider himself as family again. That was all Jake wanted, after all, to get his son back and be a complete family again. 

But all good things eventually come to an end, as Neteyam had learned. Tonight, despite the grief he had already been put through, was no exception. 

Whatever conversation Varang and Quaritch had been having with the Sky Person leader before them, her tiny body engulfed by metal to make her seem stronger than she actually was, had come to a close with not only pleasentaries, but Jake’s fate being decided. The two Sky People soldiers on either side of Jake sprang to life as a signal was shot their way, their mechanical legs marching forward and forcing Jake to go with them.

“No, wait,” Neteyam tried, doing his best to switch to the Sky People’s language so they could understand what he was saying, but either Neteyam had translated the wrong word in his head, or the humans just didn’t care, as they pushed on forward, ripping Jake away from him. Helpless, as the last piece of Neteyam’s world slipped away, he called, “Jake?”

At the mention of his name, Jake tried to smile Neteyam’s way, refusing to take his eyes off of him, even if it had his neck craning back at an odd angle. The sight alone, however, sent Neteyam’s mind reeling, though. This could be it. Neteyam might never see his father again. They were hundreds of miles away from home in a heavily fortified Sky Person base; even if salvation did come for them, there was no promise that they would be rescued, not when there were humans and Mangkwan warriors alike crawling all over the place. Jake was going to die, and it would be all his fault. 

No. No, no, no, no, no. They were going to slaughter him, and just like Lyle, his blood would be on Neteyam’s hands. He might as well be holding the weapon that delivered the final blow because it was due to his ignorance that they were here. 

If he had just said something instead of choosing to be selfish, there was a chance that Neteyam would be home in Awa’atlu right now instead of being imprisoned by the RDA. In fact, he would bet his kuru that he would’ve turned in for bed by now, having Ao’nung untie the precious pearl shawl he had made for him, before slipping into his hammock for the night. Neteyam would be rocking back and forth, somewhere safe and comfortable, while the Mangkwan failed at whatever they were planning. 

But he hadn’t done that. And because of that, everything that had gone wrong was his fault. 

The white paint traced across his skin in honour of his healing was a waste. The flower crown that Tuk had woven together lay wilted from where Varang had discarded it. The gift Ao’nung had spent hours crafting for him was ruined. The father he had ignored for so long would soon be put down, rotting for all the Sky People to see. And the only person Neteyam could blame for that, was himself.

Neteyam couldn’t let that happen, but the further Jake was pulled away from him, his smile dimming and his golden eyes growing even more tired by the second, that far-off promise was quickly becoming a reality, one he wanted no part in. 

In a desperate plea that almost had Neteyam collapsing into Ti’ol’s arms from how much raw emotion he had pushed into his voice, all the devastation, horror, and fear he had been feeling for the last few hours pouring out of him all at once, bringing a wet sheen to his eyes that was threatening to spill at any second, Neteyam cried for all to hear, “Dad!”

The single utterance of that word alone brought a catastrophic reckoning to the Sky Person’s base like they had never seen before, the delighted hollering of their live audience only egging Jake on as he rounded on the RDA soldiers flanking him, not caring for how their extended metal arms twisted and screeched due to the overexertion of trying to keep him in place. Because really, how could Jake give two damns about them or anyone else when his boy needed comfort?

Attempting to surge forward, Jake was able to cover about three metres of land before three new sets of Sky People in Skel Suits were on him, grabbing at whatever parts of his body they could get a proper grip on as they tried to haul him back in and get him under control. 

That didn’t deter Jake, though. Instead, it gave him the fighting spirit he needed to ensure his son walked away from this mess unharmed. He didn’t know what he was going to do, or how he was even going to make it happen, but Neteyam would get out of this in one piece. And if that meant he had to somehow defeat a whole army of Sky People for a third time, then so be it. 

“You don’t have to worry about me, Babyboy,” Jake reassured Neteyam, even as his knees momentarily gave out from under him, the crushing weight of five metal bodies forcing him to the ground as he inspiritingly looked up at Neteyam, trying to think of anything he could say to soothe the tears away from his eyes before he could let them drop. “I’m going to be okay. I promise you, nothing bad is going to happen to me.”

“Please don’t go, Dad,” Neteyam begged, the hands supporting him finally letting him go and dropping him to his own knees, where he grovelled before Jake, trying to stop the hiccups from overtaking his body as the first few tears slipped out from his eyes. “I need you.”

“I know, Babyboy. I know,” Jake said, trying to console him, his hand shooting out in a vain attempt to try and grab hold of Neteyam. “I’m going to get you out of here, I swear it. You just got to stay strong for me until then.”

“But I can’t,” he sobbed, turning into every part of the weak Na’vi Varang had seen in him before she had sent him off to complete his Iknimaya, hoping that his mission would purge him of all his troubles. Instead of that, attempting to kill the Sullys had done the exact opposite of what Varang had hoped, bringing out Neteyam’s weaknesses and teaching him that it was okay to feel, and love, and fear. And right now, all Neteyam knew was the fear that was consuming him as he watched his father be pulverised into the ground. “I–” 

Neteyam never got to finish that sentence, though. The words dying on his tongue before they could even form a coherent sentence, as his body was once again encased by hands that he didn’t want touching him. Being yanked up onto his feet, the last thing Neteyam saw before he was being pulled from the scene was Jake’s enraged face, before his senses were once again filled by Ti’ol. 

“Ti’ol stop,” Neteyam tried to plead, already knowing that his heartache would fall on uncaring ears. “Don’t do this to me.”

“I’m sorry, Yawntutsyìp (Darling / Little loved one),” Ti’ol muttered, the misery in his voice almost making Neteyam believe for the first time that he meant it. Still, Neteyam was torn from the scene without an ounce of care for his well-being, quickly washing away those thoughts as Ti’ol finally ushered him to where he belonged: a tent filled with fur and bones that would be his cage. “But I’m just following the Tsahik’s orders.”

Marching Neteyam over to the small section of the base that the RDA had offered to the Mangkwan, Ti’ol did his best to smoothly get him from point A to point B. Although that was much easier said than done, especially when faced with a distraught Neteyam. 

But eventually, when Jake’s fighting figure could no longer be seen, his shouts eventually being drowned out by the buzzing of machinery and the distance that grew in between them, Ti’ol was finally able to secure Neteyam in the tent he had set up himself, a few hunters following him to make sure their troubled Tsakarem actually stayed in place. 

Releasing Neteyam upon entry, Ti’ol almost thanked Eywa for the quick thinking of those extra warriors, as Neteyam tried to make a break for it before Ti’ol could even fully retract his hand. 

Crashing into one of them haphazardly, Neteyam didn’t even get the chance to see the outside world before he was being forced back inside, two more Mangkwan Na’vi flanking him until he stood trapped with a warrior on every side of him. For a short, almost blissful, second, the scene reminded Neteyam of Awa’atlu and his rotating number of guards. That thought was quickly pushed from Neteyam’s mind, though. Dying before it could fully form and bring a new wave of tears to his eyes. 

Throwing himself out of the warrior’s hold, not even bothering to spare them a glance as he shook their hold off of him, Neteyam stomped forward, his hands clenched tightly into fists at his sides. With a rattling hiss tearing through his throat, Neteyam forced himself to abandon his sorrow, fueling that empty void with rage as he rounded on Ti’ol, openly seething at him. 

“You had no right to do that,” Neteyam spat, his lips downturned into a deep frown as he glowered at Ti’ol. His anger did nothing to deter Ti’ol, though. Instead, it only spurred him on. Any previous empathy he had been feeling was being torn away, and instead replaced by a prodding grin, taunting Neteyam to do his worst. “Those could’ve been my last moments with my father, and you ruined it.”

“Oh, please,” Ti’ol scoffed, rolling his eyes at Neteyam’s dramatic flair. Staring down at Neteyam as if he were a misbehaving child, Ti’ol couldn’t help but crowd into Neteyam’s space, testing the limits of his annoyance, even if it cost him in the long run. “The second you started crying was the moment that all went to shit. Don’t try to blame this on me.”

“Ugh,” Neteyam screeched, physically having to restrain and force himself to move away from Ti’ol lest he wanted to attack the man. Which, despite the clear odds that were stacked against him, Neteyam wouldn’t mind adding a bit more blood to Ti’ol’s face. But, since Neteyam couldn’t do that, he settled for hissing, “I should’ve outcast you when I had Varang’s favour.”

“Well, it looks like you’ve lost your chance,” he snorted in response, always able to find amusement at the expense of others. Turning his back on Neteyam and strolling through the yurt before Neteyam had the chance to respond, Ti’ol casually made his way over to a small basket that had been shoved into the corner, tugging what Neteyam thought was a loincloth out of it before chucking it his way, huffing out an amused, “Now dress yourself properly. Despite your failure, you’re still Tsakarem. Act like it.”

“I don’t want anything to do with this clan,” Neteyam snarked, despite catching the piece of fabric thrown his way. Ti’ol, and the other three Na’vi stoically watching over Neteyam, seemed to pay no mind to his outburst, instead carrying on as if he had said nothing at all. This brought a slight frown to Neteyam’s lips, especially since they were claiming he was still their Tsakarem. If that was true, then they should’ve been offering him their response, not bossing him around as if he were a child. With that in mind, Neteyam tried to demand in a last-ditch effort, “Let my father and I go.”

“No can do, Yawntutsyìp (Darling / Little loved one),” Ti’ol laughed, as if Neteyam had told him some sort of joke. “You’re my only entry way into becoming Olo’eyktan. I ain’t giving that up easily.”

“Like Varang would ever let you be her successor,” he scoffed, rolling his eyes at the absurd idea. Varang already had trouble with the idea of Neteyam one day taking her place, and it had been her idea to appoint him as Tsakarem. She’d rather pray to Eywa again than even consider the idea of Ti’ol taking her place as the Mangkwan’s leader. “I have a better chance of becoming Olo’eyktan of the Omatikaya than you do of the Mangkwan, and I’m dead in their eyes.”

“That’s exactly my point,” Ti’ol mused, though there was no humour to his words. If anything, his face was scarily serious now, as if this was something he had put a lot of thought into and had been planning for a while. Which, knowing Ti’ol, he probably had been. Plotting his rise to Olo’eyktan from the second he gained some steady footing in the clan, and only streamlining that idea when Neteyam fell from the sky and gave him an easy way in. Well, easy if Ti’ol had actually been able to win over the boy. “Now get dressed. Not all of us can afford to piss off the Tsahìk.”

Not giving in to Ti’ol’s demand immediately, Neteyam watched him for a moment, narrowed eyes openly observing him as he let his words settle within him. 

Ti’ol had no real interest in Neteyam, not outside of securing the title of Olo’eyktan for himself. That he had made perfectly clear. Just as he had been with Varang, he was a pawn in whatever game Ti’ol was playing. A piece to be won when the time was right. 

Still, that didn’t explain Ti’ol’s ever-present hands on him, not when Neteyam had made it known that he wanted nothing to do with the other Na’vi. If he were trying to win Neteyam over, it would’ve been in his best interest to step back and slow down instead of doubling down and invading his personal space whenever the opportunity arose. But then again, Neteyam never categorised Ti’ol as the smart type.

It must’ve just been lust then. A stomach-churning, face-twisting, bile-rising urge to at least enjoy himself if he was going to commit to the act and vie for a role at the head of the clan. The thought made Neteyam sick. To Ti’ol, he was just a body. A body that would lift him up in the world until he got what he wanted. A body that would either be disregarded as soon as he got what he wanted, or made to suffer further as Ti’ol tested the bounds of his title as Olo’eyktan, only stopping when Neteyam either broke or he got too bored with him. Whichever came first. 

“A little privacy would be nice then,” Neteyam rasped, doing his best to keep the remnants of his lunch down. At his request, the three additional Mangkwan warriors turned their backs to Neteyam, at least having the decency to offer him that. If it were done because of the kindness in their hearts (he doubted), or the fact that he was still their acting Tsakarem, Neteyam didn’t know. But, of course, there was one who didn’t turn. One who made their watching eyes known. “Or has my full from grace robbed me of that decency as well?”

“Unfortunately, you’ve proven that you can’t be trusted, so someone’s got to keep an eye on you, Yawntutsyìp (Darling / Little loved one),” Ti’ol brazenly announced, striding impossibly closer to Neteyam to eliminate any extra room that he had originally gained for himself. With a smirk, and his face only a few inches from Neteyam’s, he cooed, “We can’t have you trying anything while our backs are turned.”

In growing horror, Neteyam stared at Ti’ol, his jaw growing slack at the repulsive situation he had just been backed into. Some Tsakarem he was. “You’re vile, you know that?”

“I do,” he murmured, not at all put off by the accusation. In fact, it almost seemed as if Ti’ol was welcoming Neteyam’s disgust, his smirk growing prideful as he towered over Neteyam. “But don’t worry, you’ll grow accustomed to it eventually. Especially since we’re going to be spending more time together now.”

Neteyam didn’t dignify that with a response, mainly because he thought that if he opened his mouth for more than a second, he’d end up spewing all over the man. So, instead, to make it look as if to make it look like Neteyam wasn’t on the verge of either breaking down or crashing out, he turned his back on Ti’ol with a hmph. If Ti’ol wanted to be disgusting, fine. But Neteyam wouldn’t make it easy for the pervert. 

Feeling a new type of exposure that he had never felt before in his life, Neteyam’s fingers reached back to where his loincloth was tied around the base of his tail. Undoing it slowly, Neteyam took one deep, steadying breath, fighting the urge to fight more on the topic, before he let the tewng go. The fabric fell quickly to the ground, useless where it lay in a small pile at his feet. But it didn’t stay like that for long, though. Neteyam hurriedly stepped out of it and into the new article of clothing, tying it into a knot at the base of his tail before he could stand there vulnerable for too long.

As he secured the loincloth into place, though, Neteyam quickly realised that the piece of clothing didn’t belong to him. In fact, he could vaguely remember seeing a certain someone wearing it the day he had set off to complete his Iknimaya. 

Biting back a groan, Neteyam slowly turned back to face Ti’ol, noticing the way his eyes had been stuck on his body from the waist down. Feeling his face immediately flush for all of the wrong reasons, Neteyam forced himself to get angry instead of upset, his top lip curling into a snarl as he sneered at Ti’ol, “There. Happy?”

“Oh, I’m ecstatic,” Ti’ol said, looking it too as he gleefully drank up the sight of Neteyam in his own clothes. The confession made Neteyam feel sick, but if he wanted to somehow get out of here so he could get to Jake, or at least wait until Jake somehow found a way to get to him, since that seemed to be more probable, Neteyam would just have to grit his teeth and bear it. As if that wasn’t enough, though, Ti’ol muttered as he walked back to the same basket he had originally gotten the loincloth from, “But that’s not the only thing you need to get changed into.”

“What now?” Neteyam groaned, not caring at all for if he was perceived as whiny. 

“So impatient, Yawntutsyìp (Darling / Little loved one),” he chuckled, the noise sounding sick and grated against Neteyam’s ears. Lifting a hand triumphantly as he made his way back over, Ti’ol showed off a small leather armband, the sight of which made Neteyam’s stomach drop. “We just need to make sure you look the part, even if we all know you painstakingly don’t fit in.”

Now that Neteyam had seen the accessory, he couldn’t help but think of what Ti’ol had said back in Awa’atlu when he had been faced with Ao’nung. He wanted Neteyam to wear his mark. 

“I’m not wearing that,” Neteyam spat as soon as he could get control over his mouth. Listen, he was all for doing what he had to do in order to survive, even if that meant putting on the Mangkwan facade for a little bit, if that would win him some favour with Varang and the clan. What he wouldn’t do, though, was betray Ao’nung. He would much rather go down streaming and fighting than bear the mark of another. Especially if that mark belonged to Ti’ol.

“Yes, you will, Yawntutsyìp (Darling / Little loved one),” Ti’ol argued, not accepting ‘no’ for an answer. Stepping up to Neteyam, invading his personal space in an attempt to intimidate him, Ti’ol hissed, “Unless you don’t want to say a final goodbye to your Sempu (Daddy), you’re going to put this on.”

“Ti’ol, stop this,” Neteyam pleaded, shaking his head in refusal. Just the mention of his father brought a fresh wave of sorrow to Neteyam’s being, his bottom lip wobbling as he was reminded of the fate that was awaiting the man. “You’re just being cruel.”

“No, you’re just being weak,” Ti’ol growled in retaliation. Snapping a hand forward, Neteyam’s kuru was seized before he could even react, Ti’ol’s nails digging in to the sensitive tswin as he wrangled Neteyam’s body into a more malleable position. At his mercy, Ti’ol yanked Neteyam’s arm forward, struggling to try and curl the armpiece around his bicep with only one hand. “You must’ve forgotten that our clan does not take kindly to weakness. For your own good, I’d shed any affection you have for Toruk Makto and instead prepare yourself to step back into your duties.”

“Get off of me,” Neteyam hissed as soon as the blinding pain coming from his head settled, its ache ever-present as he thrashed in Ti’ol’s hold. Despite the warning jolt of his head that he’d receive every time he acted out, Neteyam made it as difficult as possible for Ti’ol to even attempt to put that arm band on, never stilling his arm for even a second. 

“There is nothing to worry about, calm down,” Ti’ol stressed, as if his assurance would somehow soothe Neteyam’s worries. “I’m only decorating you.”

“I don’t want your mark,” Neteyam continued to wail, Ti’ol’s words not ever registering in his mind. All Neteyam knew was that he couldn’t let this happen. That he would much rather be stripped of whatever rights he had left in favour of staying true to Ao’nung and the connection they had made. His heart was reserved for Ao’nung, and Ao’nung alone. Nothing else would be placed on his body that would ever make him or another Na’vi think otherwise. “As Tsakarem, I order you to stop.”

“Oh, give me a break,” Ti’ol huffed, Neteyam knowing he was rolling his eyes despite not having a clear view of his face. If the man didn’t have such a tight hold on Neteyam, he’d give him a real reason to roll his drab eyes by throwing his skull back and headbutting him in the face. “Dan’iew, get over here and help me.”

At the mention of his name, one of the warriors nervously standing guard by the yurt's entrance seemed to pale. Nerves clear as day crept into his features at being so openly called out, the man not wanting to get involved in whatever squabble was going on between Ti’ol and Neteyam. But at the nasty glare that was shot his way from both of the imposing and highly ranked figures on the other side of the tent, the warrior, Dan’iew, knew that he was helpless to defy their wishes. 

Stepping up to the pair cautiously, Dan’iew was at a loss for what to do. On one hand, there was Ti’ol. He was one of Varang’s most trusted warriors, having been with the clan for many years now. With just the flick of his wrist, Ti’ol could very easily make Dan’iew’s life miserable if he refused to help him, especially if he ever did achieve his goal of becoming Olo’eyktan. But then, on the other hand, there was Neteyam, their Tsakarem. To defy him would be treason. Even if Varang had temporarily granted Ti’ol control over the boy, stripping him of any authority that he previously had, Neteyam was still an important enough Na’vi that betraying him should be seriously considered. He was, after all, Varang’s chosen successor; he had to have some sort of grit to achieve that. 

“Stop just standing there, you buffoon,” Ti’ol spat, taking away Dan’iew’s agency as he thrust Neteyam into his arms, the smaller boy throwing his hands out and latching onto Dan’iew on instinct in an attempt to steady himself. “We need to make sure he’s ready before Varang or Quaritch returns.”

“Right,” Dan’iew startled, his hands clutching onto Neteyam and keeping him in place just as Ti’ol had previously been doing. At the tightening of his grip, Neteyam’s head shot up to face him, expression annoyed at Dan’iew’s betrayal, but not surprised. He had, after all, dishonoured the entirety of the Mangkwan clan. Still, that didn’t stop him from hoping, no matter how minuscule it was. “Forgive me, Tsakarem.”

“Fuck you,” Neteyam spat, not exactly sure who he was aiming the Sky Person insult towards. Maybe it was aimed at the two warriors standing idly by the yurt’s entrance, watching the entire scene unfold, but not caring for what happened. Maybe it was aimed at Dan’iew, who was going along with Ti’ol’s demands instead of growing a backbone for himself. Maybe it was aimed at Ti’ol, who was a sick bastard who didn’t have any regard for anyone but himself. Or maybe, and just maybe, it was aimed at himself for letting this happen. 

“Whatever,” Ti’ol muttered, though Neteyam doubted he could understand what was just said. From the way he focused entirely on undoing the armband and wrapping it around Neteyam’s bicep instead of rising to the bait of another argument, Ti’ol only confirmed it as much. Tightening the leather accessory more than what was necessary, Neteyam’s skin gave way under the thick arm piece, disfiguring his limb slightly as a growing pain began to settle there, only intensifying every time Neteyam’s body flexed. 

Taking a step back to admire his work, Neteyam wasn’t offered any semblance of peace for very long, Ti’ol’s infuriating hold on his kuru coming back a few seconds later before he was being marched across the yurt and forced to sit on a pile of furs. 

There, Ti’ol made quick work of tying a few red feathers into Neteyam’s hair, weaving in far more than what was deemed customary for everyday use. That could only mean one of two things, then. Either a ceremony would be held, which Neteyam highly doubted, based on the circumstances that everyone was operating under. Or…

War was coming. 

Awa’atlu wasn’t safe. The Metkayina weren’t safe. The Mangkwan would return, and this time, just as Neteyam had predicted so long ago, they would burn the village down, leaving nothing in their wake. Retrieving Neteyam was only the first step of this plan, but with the Sky People involved and Toruk Makto out of the way, there would be hell to pay. 

And for some reason, or at least a reason unbeknownst to Neteyam, they wanted him there. They wanted him on the front lines, otherwise they wouldn’t have been dressing him up. They would’ve left him to rot back at Ash Village if stealing him back had been their sole reason for threatening the Metkayina, but no, they wanted Neteyam there. Varang knew that no matter what she did to Neteyam, the only punishment that would stick would be seeing those he loved be wiped out. And really, what was a worse punishment than that?

“There,” Ti’ol uttered when he had tied the last of his feathers into Neteyam's hair, lacing every few of his braids with a fiery ornament. “We’re almost done. See, it’s not that bad when you cooperate.”

Neteyam didn’t answer, his body, mind, and heart growing too numb to even think of something that could be said to Ti’ol in response. His thoughts were far too occupied with the innocent village that would soon face a kind of destruction it had never seen before. There was no way of warning the Metkayina either, not when they were hundreds of miles away and believed that the Mangkwan had gotten what they wanted, leaving them safely behind. Would Ao’nung–

“You know,” Ti’ol murmured as his fingers trailed over the pearl that was woven into Neteyam’s hair, rolling it back and forth between his thumb and forefinger. His touch immediately made Neteyam tense up, eyes zeroing in on the way he was toying with Ao’nung’s promise gift to him. “I always did think this was pretty.”

Holding his breath as those words were spoken, Neteyam didn’t dare move, preparing for the worst as he had learned to do whenever Ti’ol was involved. 

Creeping his hand down to the waistline of his loincloth, Ti’ol’s fingers curled around the blade he had stolen from Neteyam back on the beach. Adjusting his hold on its handle, ready to pull it from its sheath at any second, Ti’ol pulled Neteyam’s braid taut, the pearl glistening in the low firelight. With a tsk, Ti’ol grumbled, “It’s a shame you can no longer wear it, though.”

Slicing the blade up, Ti’ol’s eyes were fiercely locked onto his target, aim precise as he went in to cut the pearl straight from Neteyam’s hair, uncaring if one of his braids was drastically shorter than the other. 

But the knife never made contact.

Neteyam had whipped around before the blade could ever meet his hair, an unwavering hand gripped around Ti’ol’s wrist as he let out a deep, guttural hiss, stopping Ti’ol from stealing the one thing that Neteyam had that still belonged to him. Before Ti’ol could even blink, Neteyam was up on his feet and wrenching his arm back, twisting it at an odd angle that had him gritting his teeth together in an attempt to not let his pained cries fall from his lips.

Luckily for Ti’ol, though, he didn’t stay like that for long. Curling his fingers around the base of the knife, Neteyam yanked it out from Ti’ol’s hold, reclaiming the blade that his parents had gifted him as he glowered down at Ti’ol, only releasing him when the limb in his grasp began to tremble. 

“I am your Tsakarem,” Neteyam spat, holding his head up proudly as he accusingly pointed the dagger towards Ti’ol, uncaring for how the man withered slightly, clutching at his shoulder to try and soothe it. Ti’ol was lucky that all Neteyam did to him was put some light strain on it. If he had been a worse man, he would’ve actually done some damage, wedging the blade in until it met bone. “How dare you think you can lay your hands on me and try to remove the mark of my future mate.”

“He’s not Mangkwan,” Ti’ol rasped, never knowing when to keep his mouth shut and admit that he had lost. It was pathetic, really. “You have no place with him.”

“Maybe not,” Neteyam murmured, thinking back to all the wrong he had done since waking up with the Mangkwan and embracing their culture, following after Varang blindly. He had committed some heinous sins, but despite that, Ao’nung still chose him, and Neteyam would never be the one to turn him away. “But he’s set to be Olo’eyktan, making him a greater man than you’ll ever be.”

“Ao’nung?” Ti’ol spat, immediately making Neteyam hiss at the mere mention of his lover’s name, the wretched man before him having no right to say it. In disbelief, Ti’ol asked, “Olo’eyktan?”

“Yes,” Neteyam couldn’t help but gloat, his chest filling with pride at Ao’nung’s accomplishment, even if it were his birthright. From what Neteyam could see, Ao’nung had blossomed into a fine warrior for his clan, always taking everything on with a kind and reassuring smile, even when Lo’ak purposely tried to get under his skin. He would make a mighty leader one day. But Neteyam couldn’t focus on that. Not now. “Now, I demand that I be treated with respect as your Tsakarem. I do not want my position in this clan to be forgotten simply over an argument with… my Sa’nok (Mother). Am I understood?”

At his question, the three additional warriors that had followed Neteyam and Ti’ol into the yurt straightened their spines, their heads snapping down in a quick nod before positioning themself at a lower level than Neteyam, crouching before him to show their submission. Ti’ol, however, remained as he was, staring at Neteyam in annoyance, his usual cocky smirk being wiped from his face, as he watched Neteyam with a newfound recognition.

Neteyam offered Ti’ol leeway for a few moments as he gave him the benefit of the doubt, waiting patiently for the man to submit to him as well after grappling with the change in situation and the extra knowledge that had been offered to him. But when he made no move to repent for his troubles, Neteyam knew he had to take matters into his own hands, especially if he were to be granted the respect he was demanding.

“I said,” Neteyam snarled, starting towards Ti’ol with the blade being thrusted out towards his neck, the curve of its smooth edge coming into contact with Ti’ol’s neck, where Neteyam fiercely held it, a dribble of blood spilling. The sudden attack had Ti’ol’s eyes widening, almost bulging out of his head, as he stared up at Neteyam in umbrage, top lip curling up in an act of defiance. That didn’t deter Neteyam, though. Instead, it pushed him to lean closer into Ti’ol’s face, digging the blade a little deeper as he nastily demanded, “Am I understood?”

In those moments, as Ti’ol’s eyes turned from smug to yielding, Neteyam felt as if he finally had the man’s respect. Or, at least, something akin to respect. Neteyam doubted Ti’ol would ever fully regard him in such a high honour, but he was at least certain that the Mangkwan warrior knew he wasn’t one to be pushed around and take it. 

Ti’ol had finally done what he set out to do: find Neteyam’s breaking point. But with that came the spillage of his own blood. 

“Yes, Tsakarem,” Ti’ol finally relented, lowering his eyes to the floor in resignation. As he did so, it looked as if he was fighting the urge to recoil at his own actions, his natural instinct being to protest what was happening now that he wasn’t in control and detest everything that Neteyam was saying. But by some miracle, or perhaps Ti’ol just wasn’t as stupid as he pretended to be, he kept his rebuttals to himself and bowed his head. “Loud and clear.”

“Good,” Neteyam sighed, relieved. He had finally been able to do something right since being kidnapped by his adoptive(?) mother, although it probably would’ve been better if he had done that an hour ago. It’s fine, though. He just had to keep making progress. And the one way to do that was to get out of this yurt. Turning to the warrior who had aided Ti’ol during their scruffle, Neteyam addressed him with a raised brow muscle, “Now, you, Dan’iew, was it?”

“Me?” the man spluttered, clearly not expecting to be picked upon by Neteyam. Giving the warrior a sharp nod of his head in answer, the man straightened, never holding eye contact with Neteyam for more than a few seconds. “I mean, yes, Tsakarem?”

“Escort me outside,” Neteyam ordered, not giving Dan’iew a choice in the matter as he grabbed hold of the warrior's arm, securing himself an alibi in case any other Mangkwan hunters or RDA soldiers decided they wanted to act out of line and test Neteyam’s patience. Pushing him towards the tents' flapping entrance, Neteyam announced to no one in particular, “I can’t stand being in this yurt for another second.”

“Neteyam,” Ti’ol attempted to call out, quickly pushing himself to his feet while a hand absentmindedly clutched at his neck, willing the tiny cut there to quickly stop bleeding. “Wait–”

Whatever he had been able to say fell on nonexistent ears, the yurt’s fabric door slipping shut before Ti’ol could finish his train of thought, trapping whatever nonsense he was about to spew. Neteyam was glad for that too, not wanting to hear another word from the man’s mouth after having to deal with him for hours straight.

Dragging Dan’iew through the small camp that the Mangkwan had set up, Neteyam wasn’t exactly sure what he was looking for. He had no idea where Jake was being kept, not that he really thought he’d be allowed to freely walk around until he found him, Dan’iew and the other hunters in Ti’ol’s yurt clearly being a one-time thing. On top of that, he still had to be cautious of Varang and wherever she was hiding. 

In all honesty, Neteyam was surprised he hadn’t run into her yet, or more accurately, been hunted down by her after making a fool of himself and the clan. Don’t get him wrong, though. Neteyam was not complaining. He’d actually like to keep it that way, with Varang being as far away from him as possible, since he knew, when the time finally came, their meeting would be filled with nothing but pain and regret, his old Tsahìk easily reminding him why the Mangkwan were so well known across Pandora, and why they were feared even more.

But as Neteyam strolled past a small fire that had been set up, Dan’iew being held at arms' length to ward off anyone who dared to even try and step up to them, Neteyam noticed something about this fire pit. Something that none of the others had. 

Now, seeing a bonfire surrounded by Mangkwan clan members was never a surprise. That was normality in Ash Village, with Neteyam spending his own fair share of time sitting around the dancing flames, mesmerised by its flickering light. But this firepit was different. Why, you might ask? Well, this firepit had a few Na’vi that Neteyam was very personally acquainted with, having spent quite a bit of time with them before departing for his Iknimaya.

Altering his current course, Neteyam pushed himself and Dan’iew over to the bonfire currently being surrounded by his old friends. 

As he walked, quite a few questions jumped to the forefront of his mind. Why did they pretend to be his friend? Why not just tell him the truth so they didn’t have to live out a lie? What did pretending to know who he was help them gain? What orders did Varang give them before meeting Neteyam? Why would they do that to him?

His head felt like a live wire as he approached the small circle, buzzing with dread as with every step he took, Neteyam grew closer to unravelling a truth that might be better if it remained a secret. 

He didn’t let that deter him, not when he was so close to finally getting some answers from people he trusted, no less. So, with a confident lift of his head, showing off the diadem that Neteyam had refused to take off through all of his strife, marking his final connection to the Mangkwan as he clung to the life he thought he knew, he marched over to them, showing no signs of uncertainty or shame as he intercepted their group.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Neteyam said, immediately regretting his choice of words as soon as they left his mouth, the light grimace his features settled in making that clear to everyone who was around him. As he spoke, though, Neteyam couldn’t help but notice the way all of his friends' heads snapped towards him, varying degrees of shock, dread, and hope flashing across their faces. Neteyam tried his best not to spare any of them a particularly nice glance, since he wasn’t here for them; they didn’t deserve his kindness. Quickly turning to Dan’iew, who was still at his side before fully indoctrinating himself into the circle and taking a seat, Neteyam uttered, “You can go now.”

Scampering away as soon as Neteyam released him from his hold, Dan’iew turned and fled with his tail tucked between his legs, leaving Neteyam to the Palulukans (Thanators) as he unbashfully looked around the circle, expressing his anger, but more importantly, his sadness, to the Na’vi known. 

Following Dan’iew’s departure, there was silence. A thick, weighing tension that hung in the air and refused to settle as Azay, Ma’eve, Set’kal, Zen’ho, and Kowa were faced with the aftermath of their lies and deception. Faced with the aftermath of what they had done to Neteyam and how they had helped make his life harder than necessary. 

Because of that, Neteyam refused to crack. Apart from his initial greeting, he would not be the first to speak and release the small circle of the strain that was building. That would be up to them to decipher and prod at, making up for all the times that Neteyam had let them off easily.

Once this seemed to click in all of their heads, some worried and sceptical glances were shared around the group, Ma’eve’s usual ease disintegrating, Set’kal’s grouchiness turning desperate, and Zen’ho’s unbothered demeanour shifting into something reluctant. And from the way that they all seemed to avoid Neteyam’s eye as they silently tried to communicate amongst themselves, reminding Neteyam of his first interaction with them, they all knew they were in the wrong. They were just trying to figure out a way they could shoulder the blame to someone else.

“Hey, Neteyam…” someone finally cracked, the boy in question turning his head to be met with Kowa’s pained eyes as he tried not to fidget in his seat, watching as everything unfolded. A deep regret seemed to have settled across Kowa’s features from the way his usual boisterous grin wasn’t present, guilt eating away at him as he tried to do what he did best and break the ice. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been fine,” Neteyam shrugged, his voice perfectly pieced together. “Actually, I’ve been great. I got to reunite with my real family, explore my real home, and fall in love with my mate all over again. No thanks to any of you.”

The tension in the air seemed to thicken even more after Neteyam’s statement, Kowa’s eyes shamefully darting to the ground, nibbling on his bottom lip in silent regret while Ma’eve, Set’kal, and Zen’ho exchanged an uneasy look. Good, Neteyam thought. They didn’t get to breezily walk through this interaction after making Neteyam live a lie.

Azay, on the other hand, did her best to swallow down the new information without visible guilt. Ever the diplomat, she asked tensely,  “Your mate?” 

“Future mate,” Neteyam clarified, receiving a cautious glance from Zen’ho at his words. If Neteyam had to guess, it was probably due to the clan knowing about Ti’ol’s running interest in him. Which, if Neteyam didn’t have more pressing matters, was another thing he’d interrogate his friends for answers on, because why on Pandora would they ever let a creep like Ti’ol near him if they knew there was no history there? “If I hadn’t lost my memories and wasted two months being stuck in Ash Village and attempting to kill my family, then we probably would’ve mated by now.”

“Don’t phrase it like that,” Set’kal scoffed, finally having had enough with the rigid atmosphere as he stared at Neteyam from across the fire, his face void of any emotions other than irritation. Typical. Neteyam should’ve expected as much, especially from him. Set’kal had never been one to filter his words or lighten his blows, why would he change now? “You’re making it sound worse than it is.”

“Oh, really?” Neteyam sneered, openly staring at Set’kal with disapproval, practically daring him to utter those words again. When Set’kal seemed to lose his nerve at Neteyam’s scoff, the Omatikayan boy scoffed, shaking his head in annoyance, letting the others know how unbelievable he found this whole situation to be. “Because to me, having your memories stolen from you and being made to live a lie is pretty bad. Especially when you pair being tricked into trying to murder the people I love.”

“Set’kal didn’t mean it like that,” Ma’eve said, coming to his defence. When one of her hands reached out to gently cradle Neteyam’s arm, an act meant to soothe, his glare snapped towards her, fixing her for the first time with a look of hatred that she had never been privy to before. “It’s just, we’ve all done stuff similar to that. This is the Mangkwan after all.”

“Maybe,” he glowered, making a show of leaning back and out of Ma’eve’s reach, her hand limply falling to her side. That small move had the girl’s eyes widening, allowing her to realise for the first time just how upset their actions had caused Neteyam to be. “But you joined the Mangkwan willingly. You were aware of what you were doing. I didn’t get that choice. I was lied to by everyone, made to believe I was someone I’m not, and then used as a puppet for Varang’s personal interest. Our situations are not the same.”

“You can’t blame us for that,” Zen’ho attempted to reason, his calm and collected composure slipping away from him with every passing second, allowing Neteyam to bear witness to a side of him that he didn’t often see. “The Tsahìk ordered us to play along with her lies. We can not defy her.”

“That doesn’t make what you did right, though,” Neteyam exclaimed, not understanding how these Na’vi, his friends, were refusing to see how they had wronged them. Not understanding how they could sit there and pretend that everything was fine and that he was the one blowing this out of proportion. “I had a life, and you all took that from me. My family was out there looking for me while I was off playing pretend with all of you. And then, when they did find me, they were made out to be my enemy.”

“Because they are our enemy,” Set’kal snapped, his eyes rolling as if Neteyam were a child who wasn’t yet ready to be let into adult conversations. “Like it or not, you’re Mangkwan now. You’re our Tsakarem now, and there’s nothing that can change that.”

“But I will,” Neteyam stressed, making sure to harden his expression and stare each of his friends down so that his words were understood clearly. If they didn’t want to listen to Neteyam, then fine, that was their problem. But he would not allow this conversation to end without it being said. “One day, I’m going to leave the Mangkwan behind and live the life that Eywa had planned for me.”

“Neteyam, come on,” Kowa sighed, looking truly exasperated by what was going on and like he just wanted it all to end. Neteyam couldn’t blame him for thinking like that, since he himself was done with this conversation, but that was because of some very different reasons. He was done with not being listened to and overlooked, while Kowa and the rest of them were only upset because they were being called out. Shifting in his seat, Kowa leaned over to Neteyam, uncaring for how the fire burned hotly against his skin as he tried to bend around Azay to get a better look at him. “Be smart about this. The Mangkwan are good for you. Pandora is changing. You might as well position yourself so that you’ll be secured for when the planet is no longer recognisable.”

Be smart about this… Be smart about this? Neteyam had been nothing but smart. He had played Varang’s game, becoming the best Tsakarem he could, even though it had never been in his nature. He had learned their customs, completed their rituals, and wanted to be one of them. But now, now that he knew the truth, now that he knew of all their lies and tricks, now that he knew that the Mangkwan were nothing but cruel, and would never be anything but cruel, he wanted nothing to do with them. And that was the smartest thing Neteyam could do. 

If he stayed with them, he would never truly be one of the people, and that wasn’t just because Neteyam would much rather cut his own kuru than go through with his Iknimaya. He would never be one of them, because deep down, he now knew who he was. 

He was a warrior of the Omatikaya, the youngest to ever complete their rites and take to the sky so he could assist in the battle against the Sky People. He was the firstborn son of Toruk Makto and Neytiri te Tskaha Mo'at'ite, carrying their legacy with him wherever he went. He was the older brother of Kiri te Suli Kìreysì'ite, Lo'ak te Suli Tsyeyk'itan, and Tuktirey te Suli Neytiri'ite, their protector. 

And because of that, he would never be Mangkwan. Not when he had so many things waiting for him at home; so many things to discover and finally complete. 

So because of that, Neteyam couldn’t be smart. Not in the way that Kowa wanted him to be, and definitely not in the way that the clan expected him to be. Instead, he’d do what he knows is right. He may not be able to make up for the part he played in the Tlalim clan’s wipeout, but he would make sure that the same thing didn’t happen to the Metkayina. Not as long as he lived.

“When I eventually get out of here, and war comes,” Neteyam croaked out, his words a subtle threat as his eyes danced around the circle, the raging fire sat in the centre being reflected in his golden irises. For the first time since arriving at the RDA’s base, Neteyam felt like the Mangkwan Tsakarem that everyone thought him to be. His orders in Ti’ol’s yurt had been a fluke, but this… this made him realise in another life, if he had truly been born to Varang or had decided to flee from his home, he could’ve been what the Mangkwan wanted him to be. “I'd better not see any of you on the battlefield. Because I know I might hesitate to take the shot, but my family won’t.”

No one dared say anything in response to Neteyam’s warning, knowing that if they did, they’d only be testing whatever affection he still held for them. In saying that, Neteyam’s care for them had already begun to wear thin, not being able to look past their insistence on him forgiving their wrongs without change and how they wanted him to keep playing his part as Tsakarem without strife.

But what the six of them had together, although it was built on nothing but a lie, had been good. They had made the Mangkwan clan feel less like a death sentence and more like a home that could’ve worked out in the long run. And because of that, Neteyam couldn’t bring himself to hate them. Not yet.

Still, that didn’t change the fact that none of his old friends dared to look at him. That didn’t change the fact that none of them could stomach what they did, looking for the easy way out.

Azay had her sadly folded against her head, her hands buried in her lap as she picked at her nails. Kowa wore a deep frown on his face, staring into the fire as if that would burn away his misdeeds and wipe the slate clean. Set’kal sat with his face pulled into a grimace, almost as if he had eaten something sour, as he looked at the space next to Neteyam’s head, not being able to properly face him, but also not wanting to submit before him. Zen’ho had his head turned to the side, eyes tightly sealed shut as he reckoned with what he did. Ma’eve, ever the warrior, seemed as if she wanted to fight Neteyam’s claims, but couldn’t exactly bring herself to do so. 

They weren’t going to change, Neteyam had realised that from the moment he sat down with them and instead of being met with an apology, had been met with reluctance. They were too deeply rooted in their Mangkwan ways to ever see differently, and because of that, the best thing Neteyam could do for them, and, more importantly, for himself, was to let them be. He could only hope that when it came time for war, they’d heed his warning.

But before Neteyam could do anything to signify his departure, both physically from his friends and emotionally, an imposing figure came strolling towards them, demanding the attention of everyone present as five heads turned to face the looming entity that was stood behind Neteyam. 

Sucking a quick breath in, Neteyam did his best to compose himself: straightening his spine to make himself seem taller, schooling his features into a painfully neutral expression so as to not give anything away, and attempting to slow his rapidly beating heart as the impending feeling of doom grew closer. This was fine. Neteyam would be fine. He knew his luck would eventually run out, so he might as well get it over with now and face whatever punishment was planned for him so he could begin looking for Jake without the constant need to look over his shoulder.

As Neteyam turned to look over his shoulder though, expecting to come face to face with the Mangkwan’s ruthless Tsahìk, he was instead met with the slightly unsure face of the Colonel, his eyes glued to Neteyam as if he alone was the answer to all of his questions. Feeling himself shift uncomfortably under Quaritch’s stare, Neteyam returned his gaze with his own filled with a varying degree of uncertainty.

Meeting Neteyam’s gaze head-on, Quaritch searched his eyes for a few moments, looking for something that Neteyam couldn’t even begin to decipher. But it seemed that after a few seconds, the Colonel found whatever it was he was looking for, inviting himself into the ever-growing circle just as Neteyam had done earlier, ruggedly setting himself down in the space next to Neteyam. 

Looking around the circle sceptically, Quaritch’s eyes landed on a small bowl of kava that was sitting discarded on the floor, the group’s activities prior to Neteyam’s arrival obvious. Picking up the wooden bowl hesitantly, Quaritch shot Neteyam a raised brow, silently seeking his guidance. He offered him no help, though. In fact, Neteyam purposely looked the other way, making Quaritch struggle on his own for a few moments as he attempted to navigate Na’vi customs. 

Letting out a low huff at Neteyam’s grouchiness, the Omatikayan boy swearing that he could hear a hint of amusement in the noise, Quaritch bravely turned to face the five pairs of eyes that were eagerly watching him, glad for the distraction he offered.

“We are the fire,” he gruffly called out, parading the drink around in front of him as he raised it slightly to each of the Na’vi watching him. Quaritch even raised it to Neteyam, his eyes dancing over his sulky expression. When Neteyam saw this, he huffily turned away from the Colonel, turning his nose up slightly into the air as he brought his focus to anything else. That didn’t deter Quaritch, though. Instead, he just rattled on, “Mangkwan!”

At the sound of their clan’s name, Azay, Kowa, Set’kal, Zen’ho, and Ma’eve let out a few whooping cheers, their voices crying out into the night's air as they echoed the Colonel’s words, “We are the fire, Mangkwan!”

As Quaritch lifted the bowl to his lips, taking a large gulp of the intoxicating drink before letting out a victorious hiss, the others copied his actions as they picked up some cups of their own, shrugging down the kava. Neteyam, however, sat there with a deep frown etched into his features, purposely ignoring what was going on around him as he attempted to wait Quaritch out, not wanting to be the one who turned tail and fled.

But as some of the excitement from Quaritch’s indoctrination settled down, the man’s eyes found their way back to him. 

Wordlessly reaching into a pouch that sat attached to his loincloth, the Colonel pulled out a few plants that he passed over to Azay, the girl taking one look at them before recognising what they were and silently getting to work on grinding them up and adding water to make them into a paint-like liquid. 

“You know,” Quaritch drawled, turning his body towards Neteyam and fixing him with the entirety of his attention. Trying not to falter under the subtle intensity that sat within his artificial eyes, Quaritch always housing an forceful aura about him that he couldn’t turn off no matter how much he tried, Neteyam slowly looked back over at him, tilting his head in question as he sat under his calculating gaze. With a lazy grin on his face, the Colonel mused, “Varang has told me a lot about you, Neteyam.”

“I wouldn’t trust anything she has to say,” Neteyam bitterly spat, bristling slightly at the Colonel’s confession. Already, Neteyam could feel his tail eratically lashing behind him, not even making it two seconds through the conversation before his body was already betraying him. “She has the tendency to lie.”

“Oh, I’m aware,” Quairtch said, switching to the Sky People’s language. For a few moments, Neteyam sat there confused as to why the Colonel would make such a drastic switch. They were, after all, in the man’s territory. But then his eyes landed on the way the Mangkwan Na’vi around them exchanged curious glances, not being able to understand what Quaritch was saying. And as the Colonel spoke up again, Neteyam realised why he wouldn’t want them to: “I knew from the second she claimed you were her son that she’d be a tricky one. And while I must admit, she’s a fierce… companion, I’ve been keeping an eye on her.”

“Okay?” Neteyam muttered after carefully thinking out what words he wanted to use and translating them into English in his head, not exactly understanding what any of this had to do with him. “Good for you, I guess?”

“Yeah, it is. But that’s not the point I’m trying to make here,” he chuckled, shaking his head as if to clear his thoughts of whatever he and Varang got up to whenever no one was around. Neteyam grimaced lightly at that, his mind betraying him as he was supplied with an image of his adoptive mother and the Colonel spending time together despite Varang’s initial want to sacrifice him. “What I’m trying to say is that you’ve got a lot of potential. You inherited that from your father.”

“My father?” Neteyam couldn’t help but question, his eyes widening.

“Jake Sully, or as you Indigenous folk like to call him, Toruk Makto,” Quaritch said, some of his distaste for the man poking through as he spoke. Before he could fully grimace though, Azay hesitantly pulled his attention away from Neteyam, extending a few cups that had previously been filled with kava to him, now filled to the brim with paints in the colours of the Mangkwan clan. Taking it from her with a nod of his head in thanks, Quaritch turned back to Neteyam, showing them to Neteyam in a peace offering. 

Staring at the paint for a few moments, Neteyam pondered what accepting this silent truce could mean for him. It was obvious that the Colonel had information about Jake, something that Neteyam was desperately vying for. If playing pretend for a few more hours helped Neteyam find out where he was being held, or even how he could save him from the execution he would be facing soon, then Neteyam would gladly adorn those paints once again.

With a careful nod of his head, Neteyam opened his body up to Quaritch, allowing him access as the man dipped his fingers in the red paint and added his own war designs to Neteyam’s skin.

“You know, me and him go way back, before either of us were blue,” he muttered, his eyes growing far away as he thought back to his time as a human. “He worked under me, acting as a spy for the RDA to help us infiltrate the Omatikaya Hometree. It’s a shame he fell for your mother. Lost a good soldier because of her.”

Neteyam didn’t say anything in response to that, not knowing what could even be said. So, instead of focusing on the way the Colonel spoke about a past Neteyam couldn’t remember, knowing that he would’ve been told the tale of how his parents met, he put his attention to how Quaritch was coating his skin in paint. As he did so, though, Neteyam couldn’t help but feel a bitter spike within him. The patterns that Kiri and Tsireya had traced into his skin that morning were still there, Quaritch not even bothering to remove it, but just painting over it as if they had never been there to begin with.

It made Neteyam silently resent what was happening, inwardly seething as he watched their efforts be brushed off and replaced by something Neteyam didn’t even want. Something that signified cruelty and destruction.

“I don’t want the same thing to happen to you,” Quaritch said, undeterred by Neteyam’s silence. His admission made Neteyam’s brow muscles furrow in confusion, almost earning him a blob of paint in his eye as Quaritch made quick work of decorating his face. At his expression, the Colonel clarified, “You're a proficient warrior, Neteyam. I saw how you handled Lyle, even while he held you at gunpoint. That takes guts.”

“Varang did most of the work back then,” Neteyam muttered, shaking his head so that he wouldn’t take all of the glory for killing that uniltìrantokx (Avatar / Dreamwalker). Besides, Neteyam couldn’t even begin to understand why Quaritch was prasining him for the death of Lyle. He was, after all, one of the Colonel’s men. “She was able to distract him for me. I wouldn’t have been able to do anything otherwise.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, kid,” Quaritch huffed, a small smile brewing on his face at Neteyam’s modesty.  “And now, since the Mangkwan and RDA are working together, you have the opportunity to be one of the best warriors that Pandora has ever seen.”

Neteyam felt his breath hitch at that. ‘The best warrior that Pandora has ever seen.’ For so long, that had been all Neteyam wanted. To be a warrior. For a while, he thought that meant completing his Iknimaya and fighting by Varang’s side, allowing her to shape him into what the clan needed. But now, he knew that his dream of being a warrior had been with him ever since he was little. From the moment he was old enough to learn about Toruk Makto and the First Pandoran War and the Battle of Ayram Alusìng, Neteyam knew he wanted to be just like his father.

An opportunity like this didn’t occur often, especially when most of the clans on Pandora were against war, only stepping in when it was absolutely necessary, or they were called to do so by a greater force. The Mangkwan, and by extension, the RDA, could give him that chance. They brought bloodshed wherever they went, calling for battle as they made their presence known.

But could Neteyam do that? He would be a traitor to all Na’vi. He could claim his place in history, but it would be at a great cost: a legacy tainted by those who had ruined Pandora.

“But in order for me to help you achieve that,” Quaritch continued, not at all caring for Neteyam’s internal dilemma as his hand’s movement across Neteyam’s body came to a stop, his job of covering him in red, white, and black paint complete, signifying his allegiance to the Mangkwan, even if he hadn’t yet decided who he was loyal to. “I’m going to need to be able to trust you, you got that? That means no running off, listening to your Tsahìk, and following any orders that I give you.”

Observing the Colonel with narrowed eyes, Neteyam waited for any cracks in Quaritch’s offer to show themself, knowing that a deal like that sounded far too good to be true. But when none did, Quaritch’s sincerity shining through, as if this was something he truly believed in, a hill that he would die on if it meant having a second chance at a prodigy, it left Neteyam at a loss for what he should do.

“I believe in you, kid,” Quaritch confessed, reaching a heavy hand out and letting it land on Neteyam’s shoulder, the weight seeming to pull him down as a whole new set of responsibilities was passed over to him. Squeezing his digits into Neteyam’s skin, the Colonel looked at Neteyam as if he were faced with an old friend, a shared history that Neteyam was not privy to coming to the front of Quaritch’s mind. Tensly, as a result of whatever he had seen, the Colonel warned, “Don’t make the same mistake that your father did.”

Neteyam couldn’t really care for that, though. Not when Quaritch had given him something far more important to him than betraying his species for another. He had solidified Neteyam’s determination to do whatever he could to find his dad and see him walk free. 

Because really, what kind of warrior would Neteyam be if he couldn’t save those who needed him the most?

“Oh, I think I’m going to be sick,” Ao’nung pathetically murmured as he clung to Telisi for dear life. Ever since they had taken off, Ao’nung has had a festering pool of dread circulating in his stomach that threatened to rise up and spill from his lips every time Telisi sped up in the slightest, or he got a glance at just how high up they were flying. 

Like right now, as Ao’nung sat far too close to the Ikran’s neck, his arms haphazardly wrapped there instead of her antenna-like reins, he couldn’t help but think this was one of the biggest mistakes he had made in his life. What he would give right now to feel his feet on the ground again, or even better, have the water engulf him from all sides as he drifted through its currents. In the end, though, Ao’nung had to deal with the fact that he was one misstep away from falling to his doom, his only hope being an Ikran that got cranky when she hadn’t seen her ride in a few hours. 

And last he checked… it had been a few days since Telisi was last graced with Neteyam’s presence.  

“Whoa, Telisi,” Ao’nung cried, tightening his grip even more as the beast veered sharply to the right, following Sa’ata’s lead, even if her rider was much more experience then the one currently sitting on her own back. Feeling his heart lurch into his throat, Ao’nung quickly tried to use some of the breathing practices he had been doing since he was a kid, hoping that one of those techniques would do the trick and help him survive this flight. “When someone says they’re gonna be sick, that doesn’t mean you start diving.”

A loud, tittering squawk fell from Telisi’s lips in response to Ao’nung’s outburst, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d have thought she was laughing at him. Just as Ao’nung was about to let his protest be known once more, a quick bump in the flight path had him scrambling on Telisi’s back, a shout falling from his lips as the two of them rocked with his movement. 

“Enough,” Neytiri snapped before Ao’nung could get another word out, her golden eyes glaring back at him from over her shoulder. Feeling her scrutinising gaze on him, Ao’nung’s shoulders instinctively bunched up towards his ears, somehow making his broad frame look small. Neytiri didn’t care for that, though. Not when she was carefully pulling her bow out from where it had been slung over her shoulder, preparing herself for a battle Ao’nung couldn’t even see. “We’re approaching the Sky People’s territory. You must be silent.”

“Sorry,” Ao’nung whispered, his words sounding more like a yelp, even as they were drowned out by the wind. With a less-than-pleased frown, Neytiri turned her attention back to the skies in front of her, her eyes locking on a small campfire not too far away while Ao’nung glowered down at Telisi, silently reprehending her for getting him in trouble. 

With his eyes on Telisi instead of what was happening in front of him though, it left Ao’nung greatly unprepared for when Telisi suddenly deviated from the original trail they were following once more, speeding up slightly as she stuck close to Sa’ata as they travelled over foreign lands.

Unlike before, Ao’nung did his best to remain quiet, his lips thinning together tightly as he prepared for the worst. 

But when Neytiri and Sa’ata silently touch down on charred grass, he and Telisi not being nearly as graceful as they went blundering into the ground, he felt a bit of his earlier hope return, even if their arrival almost blew their element of surprise. 

Letting an exasperated huff fall from his lips, Ao’nung slumped away from Telisi’s neck, relief flooding him. In quick succession, Ao’nung threw himself from Telisi’s back, never having felt happier to be met with the stable ground, practically falling to his knees as he celebrated his return. Never again, after he’s retrieved Neteyam and gotten him home safely, would he ride on the back of an Ikran. He doesn’t care if it was an incredible feat that he made this far; he’d be happily sticking to the water once he returned home. 

“What did I tell you?” Neytiri hissed, rounding on Ao’nung from where she had been silently watching something in the distance, her face twisted into an annoyed scowl. If Ao’nung hadn’t seen Neytiri blissfully smiling a few hours ago, basking in Neteyam’s presence, he would’ve been scared that her face was permanently stuck in that expression. “We must be quiet, like a Yerik (Hexapede). There are Mangkwan warriors just beyond those trees.”

“Mangkwan?” Ao’nung gulped, head snapping in the direction that Neytiri had been previously looking in. Faintly, he could make out the subtle glow of fire, its flames licking at the air as three bodies sat huddled closely around it. For the third time that night, Ao’nung felt his heart drop into the pit of his stomach, his face falling as the realisation of what was inevitable dawned on him. 

Rescuing Neteyam was no longer a far-off duty for him to complete. He had flown miles across Pandora with nothing in his mind but the boy he had set out to save, and now he was here, faced with the reality of his quest. 

This was no simple task, a burden that he could put off until the last moment. This was a rescue mission, a war that he had blindly signed up for without ever having properly fought in his life. The only battle that he ever won had been ones against his friends, light roughhousing that didn’t need much skill to partake in, just the brute force to throw the other Na’vi off. Eywa, he had even lost against Neteyam and Lo’ak when he had gotten into a scruffle with them, and he and his friends outnumered them. And despite that, despite not being a warrior in any other way apart from the completion of his Iknimaya, he had signed up to fight not only the Sky People, but the deadliest clan to walk Pandora.

Eywa, give him strength. 

“Yes,” Neytiri said, a bit less force behind her words as she took in the frightened look on Ao’nung’s face. Lest she forget that the boy was still merely a child, younger than she was when she thought in the First Pandoran War. Some room to falter could be given, though it must happen now, beyond the RDA’s walls, where the only ones at risk were themselves. “Now, if you want to live, either stay here and wait for my signal, or follow my lead.”

Without any warning, Neytiri whirled around, slinking away from Ao’nung without another word as she headed directly for where the enemies sat, abandoning Ao’nung and giving him hardly any time to think over his decision. If he wanted to act, it would have to be now or never; this being his only chance to get cold feet before it would result in inescapable death. 

Swallowing thickly, Ao’nung fixed himself, not even giving himself a second to doubt himself. He had come here to do one thing, and he wasn’t going to leave until he did it. Or, at least die trying to. No hesitation, or lack of experience, or fear was going to get in the way.

So, with that in mind, Ao’nung started after Neytiri, making sure to be extra quiet as he followed in her footsteps. 

As the pair of them stalked forward, Neytiri’s bow stretched out in front of her as she took aim while Ao’nung clutched his spear tightly, its sharpened head aimed at one of the unsuspecting Mangkwan scouts that were currently stationed on lookout duty, they held their breath, making sure that everything was lined up perfectly before all hell broke loose. 

Releasing the drawstring of her bow, Ao’nung heard the exact moment Neytiri’s arrow made contact with one of the Mangkwan scouts across from them, a thick thwack sounding out through the dense forest as the weapon pierced through the Na’vi’s chest, their body crumbling to the ground as blood began to spill out from the wound. Feeling the world drop out from beneath his feet as he stared at the now lifeless body, Ao’nung didn’t even notice the remaining two warrior’s turning their attention to where he and Neytiri were hiding, only snapping out of the numbing sensation that took over him when they let out matching battle cries. 

Darting his eyes over to the nearest Na’vi to him, Ao’nung reeled his arm back, momentarily adjusting his aim as his target came hurdling towards him, before launching his spear forward. The weapon sailed through the air almost as if it weighed nothing, plunging deeply into the Mangkwan scout’s stomach and sending them to the ground. 

Neytiri took care of the last remaining soldier quickly, her arrow flying through the air before Ao’nung could even blink, a loud hiss echoing off her lips as she did so. 

When their body hit the ground, their movement ceasing altogether as a few stray bullets were shot into the air by the gun the Sky People had gifted them, Neytiri wasted no time rushing over to the scene, her eyes skimming over the bodies of the fallen as she looted them for anything that could be of use.

When her gaze fell on a faintly glowing tag, its red light flickering every few moments, she picked it up to inspect it, golden eyes raking over the device. Now, Neytiri wasn’t like Jake; she had not lived a past life where Sky People technology was of use to her. She was also not Norm, who had dedicated his entire life to the science that they practised on Earth, or Lo’ak, who had a deep fascination with the humans’ metal. 

But she had encountered the devastation that the Sky People brought with them wherever they went, dealing with their funky devices more than once. That made her astutely aware of the importance that this small beeping device could hold. 

Checking over the other bodies while Ao’nung retrieved his spear and started rustling through the camp they had set up, Neytiri found matching tags on each Mangkwan scout. Curling her fingers around a second one, she ripped it from the Na’vi’s neck, intending on giving it to Ao’nung so that whatever protection it was offering these warriors, they could have the same.

But as Neytiri turned around to face Ao’nung, she was met with his sheepish smile and a chest with red paint smeared across it. 

“Uhhh,” he started, fumbling over his words as a thick blob of paint fell from his lips and smacked into the ground beneath him. Feeling his ears fold back against his head as Neytiri’s eyes washed over him, drinking in the curve of red that covered his pecs, Ao’nung lost all of his critical thinking skills momentarily. Being reduced to nothing more than a fish out of water as his mouth opened and closed a few times. “I thought if we were trying to blend in, then we should probably dress the part.”

Nodding her head along to his words, a silent gesture to tell Ao’nung that she could see that, a proud glimmer sparked to life in Neytiri’s eyes as she walked over to him. Softly, she murmured,  “Good thinking.”

“Really?” Ao’nung ventured desperately, his eyes as wide as Pandora’s moon as he stared over at Neytiri before quickly catching what he was doing and shaking himself out of whatever funk he had wound up into. Clearing his throat and almost choking on his own saliva in the process, Ao’nung corrected, “I mean– Thanks. They’ve got some leftover white and black paint as well.”

Giving Ao’nung a sharp nod of her head in response, Neytiri quickly picked up a bowl of black paint and quickly got to work covering her body with the liquid, taking a glance over at one of the lifeless female bodies every couple of minutes so she could copy the design that had been painted there.

And, after a couple of minutes of trading colours with Neytiri and helping the others print their chosen designs onto the others' backs, was how Ao’nung found himself head to toe in Mangkwan body paint, feeling ridiculous as he waited for it to dry. 

As he did though, Neytiri seemed to take her disguise one step further, pulling the chest piece of the woman she had killed off and sliding it into place over her own breasts, tightening the leather until it was firmly imprinted into her skin. Ao’nung let out a small grimace at the sight, feeling silently blessed at that moment that the men in the Mangkwan didn’t wear much; their loinclothes kept simple so that all the attention was brought towards their heavy scarring and the remnants of animals that they wore. 

“Here,” Neytiri called, chucking a necklace that she had pulled off one of the other bodies to Ao’nung. Throwing his hands up to catch the accessory, his spear falling to the ground in the process, Ao’nung was met with a thin leather strap that had a chipped skull hanging from it, the shape of which Ao’nung had never seen before. “Put this on as well.”

“But it’s a skull,” Ao’nung stressed, holding the necklace as far away from his body as he could manage without touching the decayed head that was attached to it.

“A Nantang (Viperwolf) skull,” Neytiri clarified, as if that would do anything to wipe away Ao’nung’s disgust. If anything though, that only made Ao’nung’s face scrunch more, having heard enough stories from Lo’ak about the creature to know they were of great annoyance, even if not particularly big.  “You will look the part if you wear it. We can not have them questioning why you look so plain.”

“I’m not plain,” Ao’nung huffed, deeply offended by the comment. He was not plain. Far from it. His tattoo, although covered right now, only existed on two other faces. See? Definitely not plain. “And last time I checked, I didn’t see any reef Na’vi among them. So I’m the opposite of plain, actually.”

“Do not argue with me,” Neytiri said, though Ao’nung couldn’t help but hear a smidgen of amusement in her tone, her scowl light as she began walking back to the two Ikran. Hurrying after Neytiri after he fumbled to put the necklace over his head, grimacing slightly at how the skull sat on his chest, and snatching his spear up off the ground, Ao’nung fell into step beside her, silently taking the RDA device that she passed him, handling that with even more disgust than the Nantang (Viperwolf) skull. “It’ll be morning soon. We must act quickly.”

Just like before, Neytiri seamlessly mounted Sa’ata, taking to the skies quickly and without trouble as she directed her Ikran to the towering fortress that sat much closer than anyone or creature in their little rescue team would’ve liked. Ao’nung, however, stared at Telisi as if he were about to sign his life away.

Raising a hand and running it soothingly along Telisi’s snout despite her being completely calm, Ao’nung postponed their flight by as many seconds as he could, knowing deep down that it would only do him more harm than good, since when they got up into the air, Telisi would only speed up, flying faster than what Ao’nung was comfortable so she could cover the distance between her and the other Ikran.

“Hey, girl,” he mused, trying to make light of the situation before his entire being was filled with dread once more. Scratching his fingers along Telisi’s neck as he slowly made his way down the expanse of her body, Ao’nung gulped down his nerves. He had already done this once. The second time should be much easier… right? If not that, then at least it would be shorter. “Just one more flight, then Neteyam will be with us, and he can take control.”

Snapping her jaw shut a few times, Telisi bristled slightly at Ao’nung’s words, her wings twitching as if she couldn’t bear another second being on the ground away from her rider.

“Yeah, I know,” Ao’nung sighed, his ears folding back for a few seconds. They both wanted Neteyam back so badly that it was all they could think about, consumed by a guilt that continuously ate away at them as they shouldered some of the blame for not being there for him when he needed them. “We just got to last a little bit longer without him.”

With determination coursing through his veins, Ao’nung clambered onto Telisi’s back, mindful of his spear and making sure it wouldn't unintentionally stab at her while they were flying through the air. As soon as Ao’nung was secure with his arms once again incorrectly wrapped around her neck, clinging to her for dear life, Telisi took off without warning, sawing through the air at an impeccable speed as she raced to catch up with Neytiri and Sa’ata. 

The entire time they flew, Ao’nung sat with his teeth harshly biting into his bottom lip, trying not to let any fear-induced noises slip from his tongue. On top of that, he was also trying to keep his eyes forced open, knowing that if they slipped shut, he would feel that familiar nausea take over him again. 

It was only when the small squad began to approach the RDA base that Ao’nung forced himself into a coherent state, his eyes blinking over to Neytiri rapidly to try and gauge how she was reacting to the entire situation. Instead of being faced with the slightly amused and caring mother that he was so often used to seeing, Ao’nung lay witness to the fierce and protective warrior that Neteyam had told him stories about, her face chillingly calm as she held up the blinking Sky Person device she stole from the dead Mangkwan Na’vi they had taken care of. 

Fumbling for his own piece of metal, Ao’nung quickly held it up as if it would protect him, its tiny light flickering against his painted skin. For the most part, it seemed like the device did just that as well. Because as soon as they began to approach the towering wall that separated the Sky People from the rest of Pandora, the unholy weapons that lined it turning to point at them, not a single one went off, giving them clear access to sail overhead without even the bat of an eye.

Swooping down towards a walkway of pipes, Sa’ata and Telisi touched down quite a bit away from the Mangkwan mounts that had been left to fend for themselves, hanging off metal walls and towers until they were needed again. 

Dismounting from Telisi, Ao’nung stood with his shoulders pushed back and his head held high, acting with an air of confidence that he didn’t have. Neytiri could be found in a similar manner, materialising an arrow void of Sky People junk as she silently put it into place against her bow's drawstring, ready for any altercations that came up. 

“Watch for me,” she whispered to Sa’ata, running a hand briefly down the side of her neck before looking at Ao’nung and nodding towards a walkway, signalling for him to follow. Not wasting any time, Ao’nung saddled up to Neytiri’s side, holding his spear at the ready while trying to ignore the blood that clung to it. Speaking softly as they approached a looming warehouse, she stated, “On the other side of this building is the Mangkwan camp.”

“How do you know that?” Ao’nung couldn’t help but ask, squinting at the other end of the large room where he could vaguely see a few tents set up. 

“I saw it while we were flying,” Neytiri huffed, rolling her eyes as they stepped into the building. Raising a hand, Ao’nung came to a quick stop at Neytiri’s gesture, letting her take the lead as she stalked forward, using one of the Sky People’s aircraft as cover. Poking her head around the corner, her eyes fell on a small group of humans, some of whom were wearing Skel Suits. 

Hurridly making her way back to Ao’nung, Neytiri took a deep breath, preparing herself for what they would have to do. Unless Neytiri wanted to blow that place up and bring every Sky Person’s attention to where they were, she only had one arrow, nowhere near enough to take out the group that was waiting just beyond their cover. Even with Ao’nung’s spear, they were all equipped with guns, their bullets flying quicker than they could retrieve their weapons. As much as she hated it, the only way they were going to get past them, was to act as if they belonged there.

“When we get over there, you need to find Neteyam and bring him back here without being seen,” she continued to say as if there was no issue at all, not letting Ao’nung on to their small dilemma. Besides, he was good at following orders. Neytiri was sure he’d be able to catch on quickly and not do anything stupid enough to get them instantly killed. “They are most likely keeping him close to home in case he tries to escape.”

“Okay,” Ao’nung whispered, nodding to himself as he digested Neytiri’s plan. His part was doable. More or less. Finding Neteyam was probably going to be the easy part, even if the entire Sky Person base was a maze. Getting him away without anyone noticing… now that was going to be hard. But that was an obstacle they could overcome when they were reunited. “What about you? Do you need help finding Jake?”

“No,” Neytiri muttered, shaking his head quickly as she straightened her spine and forced the rest of her body to relax. Fixing her arrow to make sure it was secured in place before turning to face the warehouse’s exit, Neytiri nodded her head once, Ao’nung hurrying to comply and follow after her as she whispered, “I’ll be able to handle my husband. You must focus on Neteyam, and Neteyam alone. Do not get caught.”

Stepping out from behind their shelter, Ao’nung didn’t dare say a word in response to her, trusting that the woman knew what she was doing and that everything would work in their favour, because if it didn’t, well, Ao’nung was definitely going to annoy her when they went to Eywa.

Walking a step behind Neytiri, his spear in the hand closest to the Sky People, Ao’nung didn’t even look over at the RDA soldiers, but it was clear that they had taken notice of them if the way their conversation died out was anything to go by. Feeling their eyes glued to them, tracing the lines of their bodies and sizing them up, Ao’nung couldn’t help but try to make himself bigger, puffing his chest out and tightening his grip on his spear so his arm would flex, letting the actions hang in the air as a quiet warning.

“Check this out,” someone said, the words undecipherable to Ao’nung. Still, even though it sounded like mush to him, Ao’nung couldn’t help but try and listen in, Neytiri very clearly doing the same thing, only she could actually make out what was being spoken. Calling out to them, the same person as before said, “What’s up, Cutie?”

“Dah!” Neytiri quickly barked as soon as the Sky Person had finished speaking, startling Ao’nung as she snapped her head towards the RDA soldiers, her teeth on display. 

None of them seemed to care for her threat, though. Instead of cowering like Ao’nung most certainly would’ve if he had been on the receiving end of Neytiri’s intense stare, a round of chuckles filled the air, none of them taking Neytiri’s crazed eyes or the bow that sat in her hands seriously. “I think she likes me.”

“No way, man,” one of them scoffed, the noise sounding bitter to Ao’nung.

For a few moments after that, none of the Sky People said a thing, Ao’nung mistakenly thinking they had had their fill of the exotic world that Pandora could offer them. Even though he could still feel their eyes boring into him, Ao’nung felt less pressure to act natural when he couldn’t hear them speaking their gibberish. But just as Ao’nung thought he had escaped them, the air was filled with a gravelly voice once more.

“Look at that one,” the same Sky Person who had called out to Neytiri said after Ao’nung breezed past them, his ears straining to try and pick up what they were saying, comparing their words with the very limited vocabulary he had been taught by the Sullys. “He’s super beefy. I wonder what they were feeding him.”

Unfortunately, Ao’nung had not a clue of what words were leaving the man’s mouth. But, quite frankly, he wouldn’t mind it staying that way. Other than the terms of affection he had begged Lo’ak to teach him, trading some insights about Tsireya for the information so he could test them on Neteyam and see his reaction, he’d rather not learn more about the Sky People than what was strictly necessary. 

At least after whatever comment had just been made, Ao’nung didn’t have to hear another word out of the Sky People as they exited the warehouse. Now, however, they faced a much bigger problem: finding Neteyam and Jake.

“Remember what I said,” Neytiri lowly murmured, capturing Ao’nung’s attention one last time before the two would split and attend to their respective roles. How Neytiri was even going to find Jake when they didn’t know anything about the layout of the RDA base, he had not a clue. But he did know that he was glad that Neytiri had personally escorted him to the Mangkwan’s camp, knowing he’d probably get lost, if not discovered, before he even got two steps away from Telisi. “Do not get caught.”

“I’ll try,” Ao’nung called out, but it was already too late, Neytiri having turned away and beginning to briskly make her way through the Mangkwan camp, leaving Ao’nung alone.

Feeling his ears deflate at that fact, Ao’nung’s eyes drifted across the different yurts that had been set up, gulping a breath of air down as he took in the array of bones that decorated them, the numerous firepits that were littered across the grounds, and the swarm of Mangkwan Na’vi that were going about their duties.

Trying to channel that feigned confidence that he was feeling earlier, Ao’nung forced his nerves down, refusing to let them get the best of him. Now was not the time to be scared, not when Neteyam needed him. So, with a brazen step forward, Ao’nung pushed himself to one of the larger tents that had been set up, a Zakru skull hanging above its entrance. 

Even if the yurt's appearance disgusted Ao’nung, not personally understanding the appeal of having a dead creature's remnants used as decorations, he couldn’t help but be drawn to it, the structure screaming ‘power’ due to how much bigger it was compared to the other tents that had been set up. Neteyam had, after all, been the Tsakarem of the Mangkwan. It only made sense that even if the yurt didn’t belong to him, Neteyam would be kept among Na’vi of considerable status.

Steeling his nerves and stepping up to the tent's entrance, Ao’nung peered inside, his eyes scanning the space for a familiar figure. Not initially seeing anything of interest, Ao’nung is about to turn away when his vision snags on a silhouette at the very back of the yurt, engulfed by a few shadows. Squinting to try and get a better look at the Na’vi, Ao’nung is able to make a few thick braids, the same Mangkwan paint that he was currently wearing, and tight garments that seemed to constrict more than anything else. 

Not being able to see their face though, Ao’nung couldn’t make out who it was. One thing was for certain, though. That was not Neteyam. Neteyam preferred to wear his hair in much thinned braids, the style almost imitating what it would look like if he wore his hair out, not that Ao’nung had ever been privy to that sight. Not yet, at least. Their build, while not being as broad as Ao’nung’s, wasn’t as lean as Neteyam’s, housing quite a bit more muscle mass as they sat hunched over themself. If Ao’nung had to guess, he would also probably say he was taller than Neteyam, not that it was hard to achieve that.

Overall, the more that Ao’nung looked at whatever Na’vi was hidden away inside of that yurt, the more he realised he definitely wasn’t going to find Neteyam within its fabric walls, and that he was most likely staring down some highly ranked warrior that would crush Ao’nung if they caught wind of his presence. 

With that in mind, Ao’nung quickly stepped away from the tent's entrance, letting its curtained door slip shut as he let out a deep sigh. 

Of course, it wouldn’t have been that easy. Ao’nung was stupid for thinking he would stumble upon Neteyam on his first try. Still, that didn’t stop him from feeling disappointed as he deflated slightly. It was fine, though. He could just keep trying again until he was lucky enough to stumble across the boy… or the Mangkwan found him. Hopefully, it didn’t result in that, but if the worst-case scenario did ever arrive, at least he’d have Neytiri and Jake lurking somewhere around the base. 

Stealthily walking away from the yurt he had just been peering inside of, Ao’nung makes his way to the next closest one, thinking it would probably just be better to look through all of them rather than picking and choosing which ones he investigates, not wanting to miss Neteyam’s presence entirely. This one, although still heavily decorated with scattered bones, was much smaller than the last, but still just as imposing nonetheless.

Stepping up to it, Ao’nung’s ears flickered atop of his head as he tried to listen for any noise coming from inside the tent. When nothing of great interest could be heard rattling around inside, Ao’nung pulled back the curtain, his fear of walking into someone diminishing greatly. 

But just as Ao’nung was about to peek his head inside, wanting to do a quick scan of the room, he heard it:

“Ao’nung?” a sweet, slightly unsure, angelic voice called out, immediately ridding Ao’nung of all of his worries as he felt his body relax, and his mind be brought to peace. It looks like Ao’nung wouldn’t have to look very far, or hard, to find the one he had been searching for, because just like always, he had a way of finding his way back to Ao’nung, even if he wasn’t trying to.

Without even having to turn around, Ao’nung knew who that voice belonged to. From the second his heart lifted from within his chest, and his body flooded with relief, Ao’nung knew with so much certainty that it was Neteyam. His Neteyam.

Turning to face the Omatikayan boy, Ao’nung’s face split into a large grin as soon as his eyes landed on Neteyam, uncaring for the way he was concealed in paint or wore accessories that no longer seemed to suit him. He didn’t care, not when Neteyam was beautiful as ever, standing there fiercely with an acquired grace and an aura of power that radiated around him. The sight almost gave Ao’nung déjà vu, reminding him of when he had stumbled across Neteyam back in Awa’atlu’s thin forest when the other had first arrived back at their shores. Only, this time it was Neteyam who was finding him.

“Ma’nung,” Neteyam gasped this time, certainty lacing his words as he rushed over to Ao’nung. Not slowing down for even a second, Neteyam went barrelling into Ao’nung, his arms thrown out so they could wrap themselves securely around Ao’nung’s neck. And, like always, Ao’nung welcomed him with open arms, helping Neteyam fit himself against Ao’nung’s body as he called him in. 

Cradling a hand to the back of Neteyam’s braids, Ao’nung lightly guided Neteyam’s face towards his chest. Hooking his chin over Neteyam’s head, a soft sigh fell from his lips as he finally had the boy with him. 

Unfortunately, though, they didn’t stay like that for long. Because as soon as Neteyam seemed to get over the shock of seeing Ao’nung standing there, he shoved his hands into Ao’nung’s shoulders and forced himself out of the Metkayina’s embrace, his face set into a hard frown as his eyes darted all over Ao’nung, taking him in for himself. 

“What are you doing here?” Neteyam interrogoated, not getting as far from Ao’nung as he would’ve liked, as the reef Na’vi kept his arms slung loosely around Neteyam’s frame in a hold that was easy to break, but nonetheless grounding as he was kept close. Still, the pleasantries that Ao’nung offered Neteyam weren’t enough to keep his own body from being filled with stress, his eyes wide with panic as he looked around the clearing they were standing in. “And why are you dressed like that?”

“I’m here to save you,” Ao’nung said, as if it were obvious. The confession only had Neteyam’s head snapping back towards him, clear fear overshadowing his dazzling golden irises as they soaked Ao’nung in, the pieces easily falling into place inside his head after that. 

“You’re what?” Neteyam cried, his head beginning to shake on instinct, almost as if not believing Ao’nung was in front of him would rewrite what was currently happening to them. Because Ao’nung couldn’t be in Bridgehead City. It was one of the most heavily secured RDA bases to ever be built on Pandora, and to think that Ao’nung would recklessly waltz into it for him almost made his heart stop beating momentarily. “No, you can’t be here. You need to leave.”

“It’s okay, Ma’Teyam,” he quickly reassured, moving one of his hands from Neteyam’s waist to instead soothingly run it across his upper arm, some of the paint there flaking at the contact. It must’ve been applied at least an hour or so ago, he thought. And from the way there were no visible injuries on Neteyam, it looks like he had shown up at a good time before any could be added. “Neytiri is here looking for Jake. We’re going to get you both out of here.”

“My mum’s here?” Neteyam asked, some of the dread that had been rapidly building within him slipping away at Ao’nung’s affirmation. Although a slight prickle of annoyance stabbed at Ao’nung for not being the one who was able to bring Neteyam comfort, he was at least glad that Neteyam was able to find some peace of mind in their current situation. Nodding to himself, Neteyam mumbled, “Okay, that’s good– wait. How did you even get here?”

“Oh, you’re never going to believe this, Ma’Teyam,” Ao’nung smiled almost giddily, his tail giving an excited flick behind him as he got ready to share the news. Seeing Neteyam’s eyes light up curiously before him, Ao’nung took the boy's hands into his, running a thumb over the back of his palm before announcing, “I was able to fly with Telisi.”

“What?” Neteyam almost screeched, eyes blown wide as his gaze immediately took to the sky, attempting to catch sight of her while his mind tried to catch up with what Ao’nung had just said. “How? She would’ve never have allowed you to make tsaheylu with her.”

“We didn’t need tsaheylu,” Ao’nung quickly said, not wanting any thoughts of betrayal to arise in Neteyam’s mind. He knew a bond with an Ikran was sacred, especially among the Omatikaya. But not only was it important to his clan, but it was also important to Neteyam. And there isn’t a single thing in the world that would make Ao’nung want to take that away from Neteyam. It would almost be like if Neteyam had randomly decided to bond with his Spirit Brother, not that Ao’nung knew if that was even possible. “I just… kind of clung to her neck the whole time and hoped she wouldn’t decide to throw me off.”

Dragging his gaze back down to Ao’nung, Neteyam stared at him with a mix of scepticism and awe, seemingly unsure which of the two emotions to lean into. “She let you do that?” 

“For you, she did,” Ao’nung lamented, knowing that Telisi would’ve much rather eaten her own tail than let Ao’nung ride her alone if it wasn’t for a good cause. And what better cause was out there than saving their Neteyam? “She doesn’t normally let me near her without you present, but the knowledge of you being in danger seemed to knock he into shape.”

“You two did that for me?” Neteyam asked, growing quiet now as he blinked up at Ao’nung with what could only be described as adoration brimming in his eyes. He looked almost shy as the question was poised, as if, despite Ao’nung just announcing it, he couldn’t bring himself to get too hopeful and believe what he had just said.

“Of course we did,” Ao’nung said, cocking his head to the side as he gazed down at Neteyam, bringing a hand up to cup his face. As soon as the contact was made, Neteyam leaned into his touch, taking up a soft hold on his wrist as he listened. “And we would’ve done it a hundred times over if–”

Ao’nung never got to finish that sentence as a hand was quickly pressed against his lips, silencing him as Neteyam looked over his shoulder, his ears flickering like crazy as he picked up on something that Ao’nung had clearly missed. Feeling his stomach drop as he tried to pick up on what Neteyam had discovered, all of Ao’nung’s senses went into high alert, his body screaming at him to move as he caught wind of a few pairs of footsteps heading in their general direction.

Without having to signal anything to Neteyam though, Neteyam hurriedly removed his hand from Ao’nung’s mouth and instead took hold of his wrist, giving it a quick tug as he began dragging Ao’nung away from where they had been previously standing. Tugging him in between the different yurts until they stood in a slightly more secure and secluded location, Neteyam didn’t let go of Ao’nung until he was sure there were no prying eyes or figures too close for comfort. 

Taking up a post between two of the yurts, Neteyam silently watched from the shadows as a small group of Mangkwan Na’vi walked by, purposely keeping Ao’nung behind him despite his smaller frame not doing much to conceal the Metkayina. 

Staying there a few seconds longer than necessary once the group had passed, Neteyam let his shoulders sag forward with a sigh, a quiet relief filling him as he stepped away from the small opening and allowed himself to be fully blanketed by the cover the tall tents offered them. 

When Neteyam turned back to face Ao’nung though, he was promptly swept off his feet, Ao’nung not being able to contain himself as he dropped his spear to the ground and wrapped his arms around Neteyam’s waist, pulling him into his chest once again so he could lift him off the ground and spin the two of them in a few quick circles as he was overcome with happiness. 

He had done it. He had found Neteyam. Or, better yet, Neteyam had found him.

They were together again at last, and Ao’nung sure as hell wasn’t going to let anything get between them again. Not even the overpowered, filled-to-the-brim RDA base that they were currently standing in as Sky People and Mangkwan warriors alike strolled through the metal city.

“Ao’nung,” Neteyam softly hissed as his hands came down to plant themselves on Ao’nung’s shoulders, steadying himself as his body was tossed around as if he weighed nothing. Still, despite the outwardly strong demeanour that Neteyam was trying to put on, Ao’nung could hear the faint telltale signs of laughter bubbling up in his voice, his tail flicking behind him excitedly as his hold turned from grounding to embracing, practically melting into Ao’nung. “Now is not the time for this.”

“You’re right,” Ao’nung quickly agreed, though he remained nosing at Neteyam’s collarbone for a few extra seconds before finally ceasing in his childish antics and setting Neteyam down. Making sure his feet touched down on the ground gently, Ao’nung made no move to pull away from the Omatikayan boy, keeping his hold on the other firm. Still, he lightly murmured, “Sorry, Ma’Teyam.”

“It’s alright, Ma’nung,” Neteyam smiled, cupping Ao’nung’s face and bringing it up so it could meet his. Leaning his forehead towards Ao’nung, Neteyam brought the two of them together in a gentle embrace, content to just hold him for a few seconds, even if now was desperately not the time to be doing this.

That fact was made painfully clear to the pair as well when a low whistle sounded out through the air, slicing through their moment and taunting them as it called for their attention. 

Peeling away from one another instantly, as if they had been caught in the middle of something scandalous (which, perhaps not what they were doing was, but where they decided to celebrate definitely could be considered as much), both Ao’nung and Neteyam whipped around to find a figure they had both unfortunately grown familiar with, one of them having quite a few more encounters than the other.  

In all of his annoyance and the great distaste he brought wherever he went, Ti’ol stood before the two of them with very little glory circulating around him, a convincing smirk plastered on his face as his eyes raked over the pair, his amber eyes staying glued to Ao’nung and the getup he had found himself in for a few seconds longer than necessary. At the sight of him, Ao’nung felt himself grow tense, getting reminded of just where exactly they were and who they were dealing with as they were faced with the embodiment of the Mangkwan clan.

“Aw, how sweet is this,” Ti’ol’s sickening voice mockingly cooed as he took in the sight of them, slowly stalking towards the pair with hungry eyes. Ao’nung didn’t even wait a second to crouch down and retrieve his spear, not when Ti’ol was watching them like a hungry Slotsyal (Stormglider), prowling for his next kill. “Please, don’t stop on my account. I’d hate to be the one getting in the way of such a cute reunion.”

“Ti’ol,” Neteyam hissed sharply, his ears flattening against his head as he positioned himself in front of Ao’nung, coming between him and Ti’ol. Ao’nung felt a tremor shoot down his spine at the noise, his eyes flickering over to Neteyam in awe before hurriedly sliding back over to Ti’ol, remembering that the enemy was among them and he couldn’t get sidetracked with how fierce his lover was.

“Enough of that, Yawntutsyìp (Darling / Little loved one),” Ti’ol groaned, exasperated by the sight of Neteyam flashing his small fangs and whipping his tail back and forth behind his back. Taking a step too close to them, Neteyam quickly pulled the blade he had previously stolen back from Ti’ol out from the sheath on his loincloth, holding it up to Ti’ol in warning. Surprisingly, or at least to Ao’nung, Ti’ol seemed to falter, swallowing thickly as he stared down at the weapon, before forcing himself forward as if nothing had happened. “What have I told you about hissing? You need to stop. You’re nowhere near as threatening as you think you are, and the act is getting old really quickly.”

“Maybe if you actually listened to him, then he wouldn’t have to hiss at you,” Ao’nung snapped, pushing himself out from behind Neteyam and taking up the space at his side, his bloodied spear threateningly pointed at Ti’ol and keeping the Na’vi at least ten feet away from them. With a growl, he barked out, “Stand down, Ti’ol. Neteyam will be leaving Bridgehead City with me.”

“You won’t be going anywhere,” he spat quickly in response, pulling his own knife from his hip, clearly not equipped for a proper fight. Holding it up before him, the blade's curved edge tapping against the sharpened edge of Ao’nung’s own weapon, Ti’ol prepared for a fight despite his disadvantage. The fact that Ti’ol was outnumbered and out-armed didn’t even seem to register to the Mangkwan Na’vi, the man instead rising to his full height and grinning sharkishly at the two. “The Tsahìk has yet to punish him, and I have yet to claim the Tsakarem as my mate.”

As soon as those words left Ti’ol’s mouth, Ao’nung let out a deep, guttural hiss, thrusting his spear towards Ti’ol once, forcing him to stumble back unless he wanted to be impaled, earning an amused laugh from the Na’vi despite the situation he was in. Once again bringing his blade up to rest it against Ao’nung’s, Ti’ol looked ready to strike at any second, goading Ao’nung to make the first move with a small nod of his head.

And, never being one to back down from a challenge, Ao’nung was hopeless but to give into Ti’ol’s demands, reeling his shoulder back so he could plunge his weapon forward with a snarl, “You will do no such thing–”

Before either of them could make contact, a fiery boom sounded through the air, shockwaves shaking the ground as the aftermath of an explosion rattled through the ground, throwing everyone off balance from its unexpected arrival. Fumbling forward, the spear fell out of Ao’nung’s hands before he could stabilise himself, dropping to the floor and clattering loudly. 

Trying to lean forward to pick it up, Ao’nung’s fingers never even came in contact with its wooden shaft before a spiked body was slamming into his, throwing him off course until he was landing on his back. Spluttering slightly after being tackled, Ao’nung threw his hands up to catch Ti’ol’s wrist before he could drive his knife down into Ao’nung’s head, the tip of his blade mere inches away from his right eye.

Distantly, Ao’nung could hear a loud whoop be let out into the air, a matching shriek being clicked back, but Ao’nung couldn’t really focus on that, not when he was two seconds away from having his eye plucked out as Ti’ol shoved all of his weight down onto him. 

Tightening his hold on Ti’ol’s wrist to keep the blade in place away from his face, Ao’nung bucked his hips up, lurching Ti’ol forward and off balance, giving him enough time to shove Ti’ol’s leaner body off from on top of him. Pushing himself onto his knees whilst Ti’ol scrambled to right himself, Ao’nung closed both of his finned hands into firm fists and knocked one square into Ti’ol’s face when his head snapped around to try and keep Ao’nung in his line of sight.

“Kalweyaveng (Son of a bitch),” Ti’ol spat, blood beginning to spill from his nose. Before he could even compose himself after a hit like that, and before Ao’nung could get in his head about making the man bleed, he sent another quick hit hurtling Ti’ol’s way, smashing his knuckles into the side of his chin. 

“If I ever hear you talking about Neteyam in that way again, or see you near him,” Ao’nung started, not giving Ti’ol enough time to compose himself as he settled a hand at the junction between his neck and shoulder, holding him in place so he could deliver another quick punch, his knuckles beginning to swell from the contact. “I’m going to–”

“You’ll what?” he jeered in response as he finally threw his hands up and blocked one of Ao’nung’s punches, the shift in pace throwing Ao’nung off guard as Ti’ol smacked his arms away before diving back into him, trying to wrestle him to the ground. It was only when Ao’nung felt his back slam into the floor, Ti’ol’s knees digging into his shoulders to limit the range of movement in his arms, did his earlier confidence began to slip away. “You’re not going to do anything. You’re going to die here as a failure. And then, in a few days, before we fly back to your precious little home and kill every single Na’vi there, Varang will allow me to mate with your precious little boy.”

With Ao’nung restrained, Ti’ol hastily reached out to his discarded blade not too far away from their crash site, his fingers curling around the leather wrap on its handle as he slowly dragged it forward, its sharpened edge scraping against the floor and letting out a deafening screech as he tauntingly pulled him up to Ao’nung’s face. Holding the knife above his face, similarly to the initial position they had been in when everything went sideways, Ti’ol let it rest there for a few moments, enjoying the way Ao’nung began to struggle. 

“I’d get a good last look at him now if I were you,” Ti’ol slyly advised, his head cocking to the side at where Neteyam’s last known location had been. “Because once we’re done with him, Eywa isn’t ever going to let him back into her embrace– Argh!”

Before Ti’ol could finish that sentence, before Ao’nung could even blink, really, he’s cut off by his own pained yell, his lips quivering and eyes wide as he turned his head to the side to see what had happened. And there, Ao’nung thought with a grimace taking over his face, bile rising to his mouth as he stared at the sight, was a truly disgusting image waiting for him.

“What the fuck?” Ti’ol shouted as his eyes landed on the spear that had been plunged through his shoulder, its sharpened edge sticking out through the skin of his chest as a few dribbles of blood began to slip from where the wound was still tightly packed. 

Dropping his knife, the weapon almost clattering into Ao’nung’s face if he hadn’t quickly craned his head to the side to avoid it, Ti’ol raised a trembling a hand to his shoulder, his fingers twitching as they hesitated slightly before the wound, not knowing what to do as he tried to keep himself composed and from crumbling at the pain that was blossoming through him. Ti’ol wasn’t offered much of a choice, though, because before he could even make up his mind, the spear was being yanked out from his body, thick clots of blood following its absence as they began to excessively ooze out from the puncture. 

Quickly shoving the man back before he somehow found a way to fight through this, and before any more of his blood could drip down onto his skin, Ao’nung knocked Ti’ol off from him and scrambled to his feet, his head whipping around to face where the spear had come from.

There, with an annoyed glower plastered on his face, and his lips curled slightly up into a snarl, stood Neteyam, Ao’nung’s bloodied spear held fiercely in his hands as its sharpened head stayed threateningly pointed at Ti’ol despite his withering state, not allowing for any of the Mangkwann warrior’s movements to go unnoticed and catalogued by him. 

And oh, what a sight that was. 

Feeling his jaw go slack at the sight of Neteyam, Ao’nung couldn’t help but stare. Because really, how could Ao’nung not when Neteyam seemed so in his element? With his body covered in the different Mangkwan colours, his stance wide as he prepared to finish the battle Ao’nung had started, hair wild as blazing red feathers stuck out from his braids, and his face set in a determined scowl, Ao’nung was helpless to do anything but admire him.

Then, as if Neteyam needed anything else to make him look deadlier, like the warrior he had righteously become, Telisi came storming in from behind him, landing on the metal ground with a loud screech, her wings flared out beside her as she let her fury be known. 

“Are you okay?” Neteyam breathily asked, tearing his gaze away from Ti’ol to instead acknowledge his amazed lover. Eyes immediately noticing the blood that had splattered on Ao’nung’s midsection, he quickly abandoned his post and came rushing over to him, taking Ao’nung’s lack of answer as a bad sign. Reaching his fingers out, he gently prodded at where Ti’ol’s blood had fallen onto him, testing the skin there for any injuries as he called out, “Ma’Nung?”

“Never better,” he dreamily sighed in response, taking his spear from Neteyam’s hands so he could rid him of the burden it now carried, quickly wrapping his free arm around Neteyam’s waist instead to draw him in, nuzzling his nose into the Omatikayan boy’s cheek to show just how much he appreciated his aid. “I think that was actually the hottest thing I’ve ever seen you do.”

“What?” Neteyam spluttered, taking a hesitant step back from Ao’nung as he stared at him with uncertainty, wondering if he had to check the Metkayina’s head for any injuries there.

“Mhm,” Ao’nung hummed, smiling when Neteyam shyly tried pulling away from the contact, even if there was a growing purple hue to the tips of his ears. “You were amazing, Ma’Teyam. Remind me to never get on your bad side.”

Turning his head so that he could peer into his eyes, Neteyam silently watched Ao’nung for a moment, assessing the words that were falling from his lips. Knowing that he probably sounded like a madman, Ao’nung only grinned down at him, doing nothing to help his case as he gave Neteyam’s waist a light, reassuring squeeze before sliding his hand down to his hip, giving it a light pat. Narrowing his golden irises, Neteyam slowly murmured, “...You have weird taste.”

“Only for you,” Ao’nung shot back before he could even think, revelling in the way Neteyam dramatically rolled his eyes in response. He couldn’t blame him for it, though. Not when he hadn’t even fully won back his freedom yet, as they stood trapped in the towering walls of the RDA’s base. Ti’ol’s pained groans were quick to remind Ao’nung of that, his eyes darting over to where the Mangkwan warrior was trying to pull himself away, and the chaos that was raging on beyond their secluded little spot. “Now, can we get out of here? This place is giving me the creeps, and Ti’ol’s withering body isn’t making me feel much better.”

“Of course,” Neteyam quickly nodded, pulling himself from Ao’nung’s hold so he could instead clasp their hands together, leading him over to Telisi, where she sat impatiently waiting for Neteyam to return to her, not yet getting the proper reunion that they deserved. Then, almost in a whisper, as if he didn’t really want Ao’nung to hear it, Neteyam said, “...Tìyawn (Love).” 

Feeling his spine shoot straight at the name, Ao’nung’s face broke out into a dazzling grin. He didn’t comment on it, not when Neteyam looked to be fighting for his life as the previous purple hues on his ears travelled down to the rest of his face, though it was hard to see under the paint that had been smeared there. Ao’nung did, however, make his appreciation known as he clambered onto Telisi after Neteyam, his arms winding their way around Neteyam’s waist and holding him close. 

In seconds, as Neteyam made tsaheylu with Telisi and easily took control of the Ikran, they were skybound, Telisi’s green wings stretching wide as they made quick work of abandoning the Mangkwan camp in favour of returning to Awa’atlu. 

While they were in the air, and more importantly, while Ao’nung clung to Neteyam in hopes of not slipping from Telisi’s back, the both of them kept their eyes peeled for the nearest exit, neither of them being ready to take on any RDA or Mangkwan soldiers, as all they had was a spear and a small knife. But, luckily for them, it didn’t seem like they would need to, as Ao’nung caught sight of some familiar faces not too far away from them.

“Look,” Ao’nung announced, pointing a hand past Neteyam’s face in hopes of guiding his attention over to the Ikran sailing through the air, three distinct bodies sitting on its back. Squinting his eyes momentarily, Ao’nung couldn’t help but grin as he noticed Spider wedged in at the front of Sa’ata, looking as if he were having the most fun he had ever had in his life. “Over there.”

“Perfect,” Neteyam breathed a sigh of relief after turning to see what all the commotion was, his body relaxing as soon as he noticed Neytiri and Jake safe and already heading towards them. “Let’s get out of here.”

With a snort, Ao’nung muttered, “You don’t need to tell me twice.”

Neteyam could feel his body beginning to slowly slump forward, exhausting eating away at him as the sun began to rise over the forest they were flying through, marking a new day and the end of a sleepless night. 

With every passing second, Neteyam could feel a peaceful slumber attempting to creep up on him, waiting for the perfect moment to strike and pull him into its clutches so he could finally rest after running on autopilot for so long after the stress he had been put under. But at the slightest jolt from Telisi below him as she powered on after Sa’ata, or the subtle tightening of Ao’nung’s arms around him as he, too, tried to fight off sleep, Neteyam was reminded why he couldn’t afford to give in to his body's needs. Not yet, at least. 

But, as Neteyam saw Neytiri begin to guide her Ikran down to the bank of a river whose stream followed a similar direction of their flightpath, Spider snuggly pressed against her back while Jake held him in place, he felt relief begin to flood him as his mother’s movements could only be interpreted as one thing: they were taking a break. 

A break that was very much needed, not just for his own sake, but also for the sake of Telisi, who had been flying for longer than she had in days, Neteyam’s absence leaving her to grow lazy as she waited for her favourite, and only (though Neteyam wasn’t sure how true that statement stood anymore after being told about her and Ao’nung’s little adventure), flyer to return. 

Still, Neteyam wouldn’t be the one to pass up on this opportunity instead of capitalising on it, not when he was in desperate need of a moment to stretch his legs and to wash off the paint and blood that was staining his skin.

Guiding Telisi until she was following after Sa’ata and the cluster of Na’vi (and Sky People) who were sitting on her back, they landed smoothly by the river's edge, her wings practically dropping off from her body as she no longer needed to keep them in continuous use. 

Only sparing a second to make sure there was nothing truly wrong with Telisi, parting from her the moment Ao’nung had removed himself from her back and she was taking small sips from the river, Neteyam was whirling around to where Sa’ata had landed. Already seeing Spider struggling to get the Sky People's clothes that the RDA scientists had forced him into, and Neytiri running a soothing hand along her Ikran’s neck as she took after Telisi and began to drink from the endless supply of water, Neteyam’s eyes darted over to where Jake stood.

Feeling his breath catch at just the mere sight of him, Neteyam’s feet were moving quicker than his mind as he began speeding over to the man, his gaze raking over him for any signs of injuries. When he saw nothing though, only an expanse of blue skin and his dreadlocks framing his head, he felt his thundering heartbeat ease. 

Jake was alright. He wasn’t dead, and there had been no harm brought to him outside of some light bruising that had begun to form back when he was struggling to escape the Sky People’s grasp in favour of comforting Neteyam. 

With that realisation, and with Jake’s eyes boring into him, a small smile tugged at his lips as he watched his son sprint over to him, Neteyam felt some hesitation creep its way into his mind, making his pace slow until he was stood directly in front of his father, his hopeful yet closed-off gaze peering up at Jake as he tried to figure out how he was supposed to approach. 

Fiddling his fingers together, Neteyam pulled at the skin there as he picked at the black paint Quaritch had smeared across his skin, he tried not to look too obvious with his intentions as he stood before Jake. Bashfully, and in an attempt not to look away or shrink in on himself in regret, Neteyam mumbled, “I’m glad you’re alright–”

Only, he never got to finish that thought, as before he knew it, two strong arms were embracing him into a tight embrace, pulling him close and holding him dear as if Jake couldn’t even bear the thought of letting him go again. It took a second for Neteyam to fully relax into Jake’s hold, well, maybe more than a second as he stood there stiffly, body going dangerously still as he was held with such a deep intensity of care, but when he did, Neteyam threw his arms out to cling to Jake just as tightly, burying his head against Jake’s chest and letting out a shuddering breath.

“See?” Jake whispered into Neteyam’s ear, his voice hushed so that it would stay just between the two of them. Bringing a hand up to rest against Neteyam’s braids, Jake cradled the back of his boy’s head, not allowing him to slip away just yet. “I told you everything would be alright. You have nothing to worry about, not when me or your Mum’s around.”

“You’re right,” Neteyam shakily sighed, somehow pushing himself deeper into Jake’s hold. Jake, who was just happy to finally have Neteyam in his arms after living through weeks of thinking his son was dead, days of being pushed away from him at every corner, and hours of thinking something terrible had happened to him, felt himself smiling into the contact, waiting until Neteyam was ready to pull away.  Which, unfortunately for him, was happening a bit sooner than he had hoped as Neteyam slowly began to pry his head away from Jake’s collarbone, sounding completely unsure of himself, as if he couldn’t buy his own words, as he murmured, “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you.”

“That’s alright, you know for the future now,” Jake laughed, using his hold on Neteyam’s head to mess up his braids as he rustled the hair there. He rightfully got an annoyed huff aimed his way from Neteyam in response to the action, not at all feeling guilty, as he only flashed Neteyam a grin. “Say, why don’t you go and join so you can wipe that junk off your skin? It won’t be long until we take off again, and it’s probably for the best that none of you turns up to Awa’atlu wearing Mangkwan war paint.”

“Okay,” Neteyam almost reluctantly agreed, surprising Jake as Neteyam was almost always rushing to escape his presence and replace him with the Metkayina boy. But as Jake squinted his eyes at Neteyam, restraining himself from reaching a hand out to check his son’s temperature, he noticed the way Neteyam’s tail had curled itself around his own thigh, stopping it from repeatedly twitching as he nervously glanced at Jake. “I… I’m glad you’re okay, Dad.”

“Me too, Babyboy,” Jake felt his body relax at the simple confession, ready to drag Neteyam in for another hug if that was what he needed to feel better. He didn’t push though, leaving that decision to Neteyam. “I’m not sure what I would’ve done if something had happened to you.”

Thinning his lips together, Neteyam stared up at Jake with eyes slightly wider than they had been moments before, quickly blinking back a wet sheen to them as he nodded his head, accepting Jake’s word without further explanation. Still, the lurking need to be close to Jake silently persisted, not allowing him to make the first move to back away, not until he was sure Jake was fine, despite him already insisting he was. 

“But go,” Jake murmured, lightly nudging Neteyam in the direction of Ao’nung, where he sat already scraping the paint from his skin. Feeling their eyes on him, Ao’nung cautiously looked over at the two, giving them a shy wave in case they were conspiring against him. “Get over there and spend some time with Ao’nung before we go. Eywa knows I’m not going to let the two of you out of my sight when we get back.”

“Wait, what?” Neteyam gasped, his head whipping around to face Jake. Feeling his stomach drop and his face flush at his statement, Neteyam was only met with Jake’s teasing smirk, clearly enjoying Neteyam’s outburst. Spluttering, he demanded, “You can’t do that.”

“Oh yeah?” Jake asked, cocking his head to the side with an already victorious grin on his face. “Watch me.”

Narrowing his eyes up at Jake, Neteyam tried to see just how far he could push Jake’s resolve. Dropping his ears down until they were flat against his head, Neteyam stuck his lips into a pout, his eyes batting up at Jake. Only, Neteyam wasn’t met with the face of a man whose plan was crumbling, but a raised brow instead, his pleading look clearly having no effect on Jake. When that was made clear after a few seconds of hoping to witness Jake’s facade break, Neteyam spun around on his heel, his tail lashing behind him as he groaned, “Ugh!”

“I’ve seen every trick in the book, Son,” Jake let out a hearty chuckle as Neteyam stormed off, throwing his head back when he saw him huffily wave him off, his ears a dusty purple. “You’re going to have to try harder than that.”

Not dignifying Jake with a response, Neteyam marched into the river, not stopping until he was stood by Ao’nung’s side, with his arms crossed over his chest. Glancing over his shoulder before even acknowledging Ao’nung’s presence, Neteyam watched as Jake spoke with Neytiri with a small frown on his face, eventually giving Neteyam a pointed look, silently telling him to do as he was originally told.

So, like the good son he was, Neteyam flashed his teeth at Jake for a few seconds before turning his back on him, finally putting his attention on Ao’nung and seeing just how far along he had gotten with removing his skin of the paint he had stolen. 

Noticing the way only his arms and legs had been scrubbed clean, the Metkayina boy making quick work of trying to get the remainder of the paint (and blood, thanks, Ti’ol) from his stomach and chest. For the most part though, Ao’nung’s back had been neglected, the poorly designed pattern already having a few droplets of water smudging the paint there. Taking the initiative into his own hands, Neteyam crouched down beside Ao’nung, scooping some water into his hands before helping to pour it down his back.

Glancing over his shoulder at the contact, Ao’nung’s face broke out into a small smile at the sight of Neteyam, not being able to help the warmth that spread through his chest at the simple act. In a soft murmur as he momentarily stopped his own scrubbing to turn to Neteyam, he cooed, “Thank you, Yawne (beloved).” 

“Do not thank me,” Neteyam scoffed, lightly pushing Ao’nung’s head away until he was once again focusing on his own task. If Neteyam had to be in the water to wash the paint off his body, then fine, so be it. But he would do so as quickly as possible, so he didn’t need to waste another second with the persistent tide pulling at his legs, and in order to do that, he needed to make sure Ao’nung actually did his job. “It’s the least I can do.”

“Well, if you’re looking for ways to repay me,” he cheekily responded, the trifling undertone to Ao’nung’s voice almost making Neteyam forget about his own mission to scold him for how foolish he had been. “I’m sure I can think of a few.”

“I will not be doing you any favours, Ma’Nung,” Neteyam grumbled, rolling his eyes even though Ao’nung could see the action. If anything, Neteyam should leave Ao’nung to suffer alone and struggle with removing his body of his Mangkwan paint by himself, but just like Jake, Neteyam almost couldn’t bear to do that, not when he had risked so much just to see him safe. So instead, he settled for saying, “What you did today was incredibly stupid, and I hope you never do something like that again.”

“I know,” Ao’nung sighed, actually seeming guilty for half a second as Neteyam continued to run his hands along his back, washing away almost all of the additional colour that had been there. “But you must understand I would do it all again in a heartbeat. I can’t bear to lose you again, Neteyam. If there’s something I can do to prevent bad things from happening to you, then I will do it.”

Neteyam felt his lips thin together at that, not exactly knowing what to say in response to Ao’nung’s sincere confession. Once again, Ao’nung was too good for Neteyam. Risking his life without a second thought, flying on an unbonded Ikran because his own aquatic mounts couldn’t get him where he needed to go, and stepping into uncharted enemy territory just for him. It was too much.

But Neteyam couldn’t help but adore it, greedily soaking in every word that the Metkayina boy spoke, happily leaning into his touches, and waiting for the next surprise to be aimed his way. 

Perhaps it was just some sort of power that Ao’nung had, making Neteyam carefully give in to him no matter what. Giving in to his whims when it mattered the least, and following along with all of his silly plans as they fell into a rhythm that Neteyam hadn’t even realised had been set. Maybe, and just maybe, it was a gift from Eywa, if you would.

It’s why, as Neteyam finally washed away the remnants of the paint on Ao’nung’s skin, he kept his hands firmly planted on Ao’nung’s back, not even daring to pull away if he was able to steal a few extra moments of contact before he’d have to work on himself.

“Then I guess I must just prevent those things from happening to begin with,” Neteyam finally exhaled after a few silent moments, shaking his head to himself as he thought about all the trouble Ao’nung could so easily get him into if he really tried. But he knew, unless it was harmless fun, that Ao’nung would never even dare to purposely upset Neteyam. So, he had nothing to worry about, a feat he symbolised by finally removing his hands from Ao’nung’s broad back after a light pat, “There, all done.”

“Thank you,” Ao’nung murmured, in response to what, Neteyam wasn’t sure. But as he slowly turned around, shifting onto his knees as he came to face Neteyam, he could tell that Ao’nung meant it in regards to everything. “Here, let me help you in return.”

Without haste, Neteyam gave Ao’nung a slow nod of his head, taking a second to soak in the familiar teal skin that had been hidden from him for too long, before his back was facing the Metkayina boy. 

With most of the paint already having been washed off of Neteyam due to the river that was racing against his legs and the water he had been using to run along Ao’nung’s back, it didn’t take long for him to completely rid himself of almost all traces of the Mangkwan’s presence. Snapping Ti’ol’s arm band off from his bicep and chucking it into the water, letting its currents push it to somewhere new, Neteyam turned back around so he could sit facing Ao’nung, more than happy to spend a few minutes with his charming smile in his face.

Only, as Neteyam positioned himself to face him, his hands reaching up to his braids to begin unwinding the red feathers that had made themselves a home there, he noticed Ao’nung’s soft baby blue eyes already boring into him with a lovesick grin plastered across his face.

“What?” Neteyam amusedly huffed from under Ao’nung’s watchful eye, already knowing something ridiculous was going to come out from his mouth, but still expectantly waiting to hear what it was. 

“Nothing,” he softly mused, not being able to help the giddy glimmer in his eyes. Not believing Ao’nung in the slightest though, Neteyam cocked his head to the side, one of his brow muscles suspiciously waiting for Ao’nung to continue talking, as he knew it was never really ‘nothing’ when it came to him. At the look, almost as if he were waiting for an invitation, Ao’nung sighed, pretending to be exaggerated for all of two seconds before he was beaming at Neteyam, “Fine, I was just thinking about how I’ve met the most perfect Na’vi in all of Pandora.”

“Have you met someone that I don’t know about?” Neteyam feigned a gasp, momentarily stopping his attempts to get a particularly tricky feather out from his hair as he instead planted it on his chest, right over the scar left by his bullet wound, as he stared over at Ao’nung with a look of betrayal. “If so, I’d love to meet them so I can warn them about what a handful you are.”

“Me? A handful?” Ao’nung scoffed, not believing what he was hearing. Grumbling under his breath half-heatedly, Ao’nung lent Neteyam a hand with the remaining feathers in his braids when he noticed his telltale signs of annoyance beginning to blossom. Even as Ao’nung did that though, he couldn’t help the sly smirk that split across his face as he gleefully recalled, “Last time I checked, you were the one who I was handfeeding dinner to.”

“That was an accident,” Neteyam practically screeched, almost batting Ao’nung’s hands away at the accusation. He just couldn’t believe that Ao’nung would dare say such a thing, especially when Neteyam was sure he could think of a handful of things that would have Ao’nung spluttering the same way that he was now. “My hands were busy, and I wasn’t thinking straight. Besides, you were the one who insisted on continuing to hand-feed me after that.”

“Of course I would,” he hummed in agreement, not at all being embarrassed by the confession, even if Neteyam’s navy skin grew a noticeable purple hue. “Anything for Ma’Teyam.”

“You–”

“Alright, pack it up, you two,” Jake cut in before Neteyam could even get a coherent sentence out, his voice echoing across the river’s surface as it travelled to where Neteyam and Ao’nung were sitting in the middle of it. As the two turned to face him, they quickly saw the noticeable frown that was on Jake’s face as he stood with his hands crossed over his chest, his eyes boring into Ao’nung. “We need to get going before we waste too much daylight.”

“Coming, Dad,” Neteyam easily called back, quickly pushing himself up onto his legs, attempting to shake some of the droplets of water clinging to his legs. Taking a few steps in the direction of Jake, Neytiri and Spider, who, just for the record, seemed to have gone through the five different stages of grief while Neteyam was talking to Ao’nung, stopped before he could get too far. Throwing a taunting glower over his shoulder at the Metkayina, he huffed, “Don’t think we’re finished with this conversation either. Just wait until we get back to our mauri.”

And with that being said, Neteyam happily turned back to shore, more than ready to go home so he could hopefully get some sleep before the inevitable doom that they had just escaped came knocking at their doors for round two.

But before Neteyam could even lift a foot towards his parents and adoptive Sky Person brother, his face lit up and a slight spring ready to make itself known with every step that he took, he felt a wet splash against his back, his entire body going rigid as he was soaked to the bone with the raging water that was surrounding him. Feeling the freezing cold droplets of the crime scene roll down his spine, Neteyam felt his tail lash behind him, very slowly turning to face Ao’nung with a glare that could kill. 

“Whoops,” he noncommittally called out, shrugging his shoulders as if it had been a mere accident and he didn’t just completely drench Neteyam in water. “Sorry, Yawne (Beloved). I noticed a spot of paint that I had missed.”

“Oh, that’s okay,” Neteyam said, waving Ao’nung off as if it were no big deal. In fact, Neteyam actually made his way over to Ao’nung, reaching out a hand to try and coax him to step forward and walk beside him. Did it matter that Neteyam knew Ao’nung was a terrible liar? No. Did Neteyam also know Ao’nung didn’t believe his joyful act? Also no, because if he wanted to play that game, then Neteyam could very easily play it as well, only better. 

After a few seconds of pondering, Ao’nung clearly waited to see if Neteyam would do anything, only to be met with the wiggling of his fingers and an annoyed cough from Jake, trying to discreetly get them to hurry up, Ao’nung relented, finally saddling up beside Neteyam to get moving. 

Only, Neteyam wasn’t quite ready to forgive and forget so easily, a devilish smirk appearing on his face as soon as Ao’nung was in range. Before the Metkayina boy could react (which probably wasn’t a good thing since they were meant to be in his natural domain), Neteyam dug his hands into the water and flung as much of it as he could manage at Ao’nung, giggling as he did, “It was just an accident.”

Watching as Ao’nung’s face quickly morphed from hesitant to flabbergasted, Neteyam’s soft chuckles turned into full-blown laughter as he clapped his hands together a few times, not at all caring for the stares they were receiving from the river’s bank. 

“Oh, you’re going to pay for that one,” Ao’nung playfully growled as he scrubbed a hand down his face, blinking the droplets of water out from his eyes. Upon hearing those words though, Neteyam didn’t wait for Ao’nung to somehow fix himself, quickly yaking off in the direction of the shore, a giddy laugh spilling from his lips as he heard Ao’nung start after him, exclaiming, “Get back here!”

From the sidelines, where Spider stood in between Jake and Neytiri with an amused smile on his face, he could feel his body urging him to run over and join in on the fight, only if it was just for fun. After the morning that Spider had had as well, almost being taken out by the man he saw as a father, he’d say he deserved a bit of fun in the water as well. 

But just as he was about to take a step forward, Neteyam’s squealing laughs and Ao’nung’s throaty chuckles being contagious, Spider felt a hand fall onto his shoulder, resting there as he was held in place. 

Looking up to see who it belonged to, he found Neytiri gazing over at the scene with a serene smile on her face as she watched it unfold. Furrowing his brows slightly at the contact, Spider couldn’t help but stare, half-worried that Neytiri had changed her mind and decided she didn’t want Spider around her family again. But as the woman looked down at him, her expression never wavering, his worries were washed away.

“Do not interrupt them, Spider,” She murmured softly, almost cooing at the scene. “We must let young love run its course.”

“Young love?” Spider spluttered, his head whipping back around to face Neteyam and Ao’nung, and, now that he was looking at the scene with that in mind, Spider’s will to join in quickly died down, finally understanding that, despite their circumstances, this was just a way that the two had decided to flirt with each other. That was made even more painfully clear as Ao’nung practically tackled Neteyam into the water, his arms quickly securing themselves around Neteyam’s smaller frame as he cushioned their fall while Neteyam burrowed into his hold, not caring at all about being caught as he laughed. “Ohhh.”

“What? No. We can’t let young love run its course,” Jake huffed, growing fiercely protective as he watched Ao’nung and Neteyam slowly sit up from the stream, Neteyam leaning into Ao’nung heavily as he tried to get his laughter under control, using the Metkayina boy as support until then. Intervening before his wife could stop him, Jake yelled out, “Hey, I said ‘get over here,’ not ‘let’s play cat and mouse.”

“Sorry, Toruk Makto,” Ao’nung quickly said, jumping to his feet and pulling Neteyam with him at being called out.

“Yeah, you will be sorry if you don’t get your hands off my Babyboy,” Jake growled, already stalking towards the two so he could separate them. It was a shame that the only two rides that they had there were Sa’ata and Telisi, because if Jake had it his way, Ao’nung would very quickly be booted. Actually, perhaps there was a way Jake could still make that happen if he pushed Ao’nung to ride with Neytiri and Spider instead. Though, he was sure if he did do that, he’d definitely be in for a stern talking to when they got home. “What happened to our ground rules, Ao’nung?”

“Dad,” Neteyam whined quickly, his ears folding back with a purple hue as that nickname was used so openly instead of just between the two of them. Then again, Jake could just be misreading it, and his son’s embarrassment was from having his crush yelled at. “We don’t need any rules, we’re going to mate soon anyway–”

“You are most certainly not mating soon,” Jake quickly butt in, his nostrils flaring at even the idea of Ao’nung getting his hands on Neteyam. He would definitely have to have a more serious talk with Neteyam about mating later on. He’d have hoped his son would be the most reasonable when it came to the topic, but clearly not. Shooting an accusatory finger Ao’nung’s way, he hissed, “If you even try to mate with him before you get my permission and go through the proper courting procedures, you can bet your tail I’ll set Lo’ak onto you to keep you in check. Are we understood?”

“Yes, Toruk Makto,” Ao’nung quickly barked, straightening his spine. He almost dared to salute the man, having seen Lo’ak do that a few times, but quickly thought better of it since he only normally did that when he was being playful or annoying.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I almost considered splitting this chapter into two but overall just thought it would be better if it remained as one.

Also, I've got this idea for a fic that I'm itching to write but I also have my modern au and Moana au that I need to get through first 🥲🔫 I'm gonna need to write like I'm running out of time

Before he had returned to his marui, Neteyam had tried to argue with Jake and Neytiri about his departure, stating how he didn’t mind spending a few more hours with the pair before the feast would eventually creep up on them. Despite his insistence, though, and the slight hope in Jake’s eyes as he looked to Neytiri, trying to bargain with her to let Neteyam stay with them a little longer, they had insisted on some peace and quiet for Neteyam before he was once again met with the full force of his family. 

When Neteyam had flashed the pair, his parents, a hopeless pout at the decision, his ears purposefully drooping in an attempt to make them reconsider, he was only met by Jake’s knowing chuckle and a playful smile from Neytiri, the latter reaching a hand up to lightly pinch at Neteyam’s ear, wiping the look off his face. 

Actually getting dropped off by Jake and Neytiri had been surprisingly bittersweet, even though the two had assured him they’d be together again in a few hours, only this time as a completed (minus Mo’at, his grandmother) family. With a tight squeeze to his shoulder from Jake and a gentle cascading of her fingers down the side of his face from Neytiri, the two of them had left Neteyam with more than he had originally thought he’d gain.

Back then, there had been no guards stationed outside his marui; the two of them probably still reeling from their interaction with Neytiri. And now, as Neteyam sat surrounded by the comfort and familiarity of his temporary home, he couldn’t be bothered to get up and check if they had returned.

It was probably a good thing that they hadn’t returned yet, too, especially since Neteyam had finally been entrusted with wielding some weapons of his own.

That had been another one of the perks of making friends with the Sullys again, not that Neteyam was only befriending them for his own benefit. But he couldn’t say it wasn’t an upside, not when he had been able to take home the beautifully crafted bow that Jake had announced as his, the singular arrow and extra pair of beading making their way back with him as well. 

At first, Neteyam had almost refused the offer of taking the weapon back with him, even if the logical side of his brain told him to keep his mouth shut and accept the gift. While he loved the idea of being properly armed in the case of an emergency instead of relying on others to come to his rescue, the bow also held a great amount of sentimental value to him, even if he needed a bit of help remembering it, he also didn’t want to breach the terms of his stay in Awa’atlu. 

Much like when Neytiri had dismissed the guards earlier that afternoon, he doubted that his parents had the permission of the Olo’eyktan or Tsahìk to be giving him a weapon without their knowledge. Although he was sure they wouldn’t make a big deal of it, at least not in front of him, Neteyam knew the bow would be taken off of him quicker than he could say his birth name.

Because of that, Neteyam would make sure to keep quiet for now. And when Ao’nung returned later, he would somehow ensure the Metkayina boy didn’t let anything slip to his parents, at least not until after he had fully regained everyone’s trust. Until then, what the villagers didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them.

So, that’s how Neteyam found himself once again making more arrows for his bow. Or, at least, sculpting the beads that would be attached to them as charms, not having an almost endless supply, unlike last time, since he no longer wore them at the ends of his hair, meaning he couldn’t just pluck them from his braids like Varang had once done. That was fine, though, especially since the activity was rather therapeutic in Neteyam’s mind.

He liked the mindless reputation of it all. Taking his blade, chipping away at the edges of the small chunks of wood, smoothing it out, piercing a tiny hole through the centre that some string could be threaded through, and then setting it aside to later be painted. 

It was also just a great way to kill time while he either waited for Ao’nung to return or for the feast to arrive. 

Which, it seemed, he wouldn’t have to do for long, as just as he placed another bead down, ready to pick up a small block of wood that he could shape in whatever way he seemed fit, a familiar figure stepped into the mauri, bringing a content smile to Neteyam’s face as he turned his eyes to rest upon them. 

Walking in, with a hand held secretly behind his back, was Ao’nung. Ao’nung, with his usual charming smirk, but this time with his hair let out of its usual bun and braids so his curls could flow freely down his back. He had also changed his loincloth and accessories since Neteyam had last seen him, clearly in relation to the feast that would be commencing shortly, the whole ordeal of it being much larger than what Neteyam had originally thought it to be.

“Hey, I’ve been looking for you,” Ao’nung elatedly murmured as he crossed the threshold of the marui, making light work of joining Neteyam at his side. The entire time he moved though, he kept whatever he was holding tightly concealed behind his back, disallowing Neteyam’s curious gaze from settling on it, even as he tried to crane his neck to get a peek. Instead of giving in to Neteyam’s wishes like the Omatikayan boy hoped he would, Ao’nung only stated, “And I see you’ve come back with a new toy.”

“My parents gave it to me,” Neteyam proudly smiled, his eyes flashing over to where the bow was leaning against the wall, not yet having a display stand to place it on. He was sure that if he asked, Jake and Neytiri would’ve been more than happy to let him also take the showcase rack with him, but Neteyam was sure he had received more than enough for one day, especially from them. “I was with them.”

“Parents?” Ao’nung questioned, his brow furrowing forward. 

“Jake and Neytiri,” Neteyam quickly confirmed, noticing the way Ao’nung’s face lit up at the confession. At the observation, Neteyam was hopeless to deny how his own heart expanded at the proclamation, his entire being warming with the knowledge that he had finally accepted and embraced his parents for who they were, much like they were doing the same for him. Then, a bit giddier, Neteyam briefly explained, “We spent the afternoon together.”

If Ao’nung had seemed happy before, he seemed to positively beam at the knowledge. Smiling widely at the newfound knowledge, he couldn’t help but ask, “Well, how was it?”

“It was odd,” Neteyam shrugged, all of a sudden at a loss for words that could possibly describe the encounter. While ‘scary’ summed up what Neteyam felt at first, his moments alone with Neytiri putting him on edge, it didn’t rightfully describe those moments of comfort that engulfed him later on. And while ‘gratifying’ dutifully explained the emotions coursing through Neteyam as Jake explained the different components of his bow to him, it failed to account for the unease that flashed through him when his father first appeared. All at once, it was both too much and not enough, making it impossible for Neteyam to properly describe. So, he settled for what was easiest, “But nice.”

“Just nice?” Ao’nung prompted, urging Neteyam to go into more detail about his afternoon. 

Neteyam only hummed, lifting his shoulders in another idle shrug as he turned the block of wood over in his hands. He could feel Ao'nung's eyes on the side of his face, patient in the way that he always was when it came to Neteyam, and somehow that made it both easier and harder to speak. In a quiet admittance, Neteyam said, "I don't really have the words for it yet." 

It felt safe to reveal such a thing to Ao’nung, Neteyam housing no fear of judgment whenever he spoke to the Metkayina boy. He would say it was one of the many things he loved about Ao’nung, that small safety net being set up from the very first moment they spoke to each other, when Ao’nung had realised he was talking to a version of Neteyam that no longer remembered.

Then, before the moment could stretch too long, he set the block of wood down and reached for the pouch attached to his loincloth, his fingers dipping into it before they closed around the beads he had been keeping close ever since they were revealed to him by Jake. From the corner of his eye, Neteyam could see Ao’nung growing restless, his own intrigue shining through despite hiding something of his own from Neteyam. Unlike him, though, Neteyam wasn’t cruel enough to make him wait, smiling shyly as he proclaimed, "But I found something."

Presenting the beads with little ceremony, just allowing for the charm to speak for itself as Neteyam held it out and offered it to Ao’nung, he let the two beads that they had made in each other’s image dangle from his palm, their carved initials facing upwards.

The change in Ao'nung was immediate. In a matter of seconds, the teasing expression that almost seemed permanently fixed on Ao’nung’s face fell away, his eyes widening as they locked onto Neteyam’s hand and took in what was being held there. Whatever he had been about to say moments ago died somewhere in his throat, all prior thoughts leaving Ao’nung’s head as soon as he saw it.

“Are those…” he started, then stopped, jaw working silently for a moment. For a moment, Neteyam was worried that he might have overstepped by returning the beads to Ao’nung, not even daring to remove them from the charm he had created. But after a few seconds of the taller boy’s frazzled eyes darting over the beads, his face broke out into something new. Something raw, as surprise, longing, and gratitude, took over his features. Breathlessly, he asked, “I thought– I thought you said you lost them?”

“I guess things just have a way of finding their way back to us,” Neteyam mused, though he didn’t think his joke quite landed as Ao’nung reached a trembling hand out to extract the beads from Neteyam, taking a moment to properly look them over before clutching them to his chest. “I mean, Jake found them.”

“Jake?” Ao’nung asked, baffled. It seemed he couldn’t even begin to grasp how Jake had discovered the beads, probably not even knowing of their existence or meaning outside the fact that they were Neteyam’s. “How?”

“I shot them through his gun back when the Sullys were travelling with the Wind Traders and the Mangkwan attacked them,” Neteyam explained like it was nothing, deciding not to comment on the way Ao’nung’s eyes widened a fraction more. It wasn’t necessarily one of his proudest moments, Neteyam thinking it would do him some good if that whole day was wiped from his memory, but Ao’nung wanted to know how, she he’d give him how. “He said he recognised it. Tore them from the arrow they were on and kept them so he could show them to Neytiri and the others so that he could restore some of the hope they had lost.”

Ao'nung was silent for a moment after that, his eyes dropping back down to the beads still clutched against his chest. Neteyam watched him loosen his grip just enough to look at them properly again, his thumb ghosting over them the way someone might touch something they had long since accepted as gone. 

Whatever he was thinking, he kept it close, but his face said enough, caught somewhere between the past and the present as he sat with the knowledge of everything the small beads had somehow lived through to find their way back to him. Ao’nung was opening himself up in a way that Neteyam didn't often get to see, unguarded and unhurried, as he'd momentarily forgotten to be anything other than exactly what he was.

“Thank you,” he finally murmured, dropping his hand into his lap where his thumb began tracing over each of the carved letters. For a second, it looked like Ao’nung was going to do the same with the protection marking Neteyam had unknowingly added to each of his charms, before deciding against it, sticking to the repetition of the first letters of their names. “For bringing them back.”

“Of course,” Neteyam replied, the words coming easily to him now. “You said they were special to you. To us. It’s only right that I returned them.”

The sincerity of the moment sat between them for only a second longer before Neteyam decided he'd had quite enough of it. He could feel the weight of it pressing in, warm and a little too honest, and so he did what came naturally: he let a slow, deliberate smile creep onto his face, tilting his head as his eyes dropped pointedly to whatever Ao'nung was still hiding behind his back, then back up again. 

At first, he said nothing. He didn’t need to. His gaze alone was enough to remind Ao’nung of the little secret he was keeping stored behind him. But, much to Neteyam’s chagrin, Ao’nung didn’t give in, his own sly smirk stretching across his face as he waited, wanting Neteyam to make the first move.

“Now,” Neteyam playfully stressed the word, his eyes narrowing as he mirthfully leaned towards Ao’nung, creeping closer as he tried to chance a quick glance behind Ao’nung’s back. When Ao’nung turned his body in retaliation, keeping the mysterious item concealed as he waited to hear those magical words leave Neteyam’s lips, he huffed in feigned annoyance. Fine, Neteyam could play games too. “Since I was so kind to give you a gift, I think you should return the favour and tell me what’s behind your back.”

“I guess I could tell you what I have since you’ve been so gracious to me tonight,” Ao’nung sighed, playfully rolling his eyes as if he was already exhausted by just the idea of it. “Especially since the feast is in your honour and all.”

“Exactly,” Neteyam hummed, batting his lashes up at Ao’nung as if he needed any more convincing. Reaching forward and grasping onto the bicep of the arm Ao’nung was keeping hidden, Neteyam tried to lightly goad him into bringing it out, giving it a soft tug every few seconds when Ao’nung only continued to watch him with an infatuated smirk. “So, tell me what it is.”

“Okay,” Ao’nung agreed, ready to pull the surprise out from behind his back, until something flashed across his face, making him stop in his movements and bring a slightly confused frown to Neteyam’s face as he waited to see what was up. His frown didn’t stay long, though, as a teasing smile spread across Ao’nung’s face, his eyes filled with mirth as a similar encounter to this flashed to the forefront of his mind, a feeling of déjà vu washing over him. Dipping his chin and giving Neteyam a warning glare, though his features broke out into a warm, bubbling laughter before it could do any real damage, Ao’nung demanded, “But you have to promise not to interrupt me before I’ve finished speaking.”

“When have I ever interrupted you?” Neteyam scoffed, offended by even the implications of that sentence. It didn’t matter that Neteyam could, in fact, think of a few times where he had cut Ao’nung off, because none of those meassured up to the same predicament that they were in now, invalidating them by default.

“All the time,” Ao’nung laughed, his eyes rolling at Neteyam’s exaggerated look of betrayal. When the Omatikayan boy crossed his arms in response to that, lips jutting out in what Ao’nung could only describe as a pout, he almost lost it, quickly cooing at the shorter boy in an attempt to placate him. Still, Ao’nung couldn’t help but remind him of at least one of those times, “I literally had to comfort you when I was trying to ask you for your favour because you jumped to conclusions before I could even present the pearl to you.”

“Hey, that’s not my fault,” Neteyam cried, lightly smacking Ao’nung on the arm when his deep chuckles only continued, his shoulders shaking as he took great amusement in it all while Neteyam tried desperately to defend himself. None of his words seemed to have any effect, though, only spurring the other on more. “You were acting super suspicious that whole day.”

“That’s not fair,” Ao’nung quickly straightened at hearing those words, laughter dying until it was replaced by a sly grin as he attempted to set the story straight. “It was super nerve-wracking for me. You don’t know how intimidating you can be sometimes.”

“Well, maybe now you know how I felt,” Neteyam hmphed, sticking his nose into the air and making the flower crown still sitting on his diadem jostle as he turned slightly away from Ao’nung, making a show of his annoyance. Although Neteyam didn’t stay in that position long, easily giving in to Ao’nung when he cupped his cheek and dragged his attention back onto him, Neteyam couldn’t help but huff, “Pulled away from my family in the middle of preparing lunch, only to sit there while you avoided all forms of contact.”

“Okay, so maybe I didn’t handle it the best,” Ao’nung murmured with a shrug, though the look in his eyes told Neteyam that he didn’t regret a single thing from that day. And Ao’nung made that painfully clear when his face flashed between a range of emotions, briefly shifting to coy before settling on smug as he said, “But that doesn’t matter because you still said ‘yes,’ didn’t you?”

“I guess,” Neteyam grumbled, his brow furrowing into a glare when Ao’nung dragged his thumb over to the corner of Neteyam’s lips and gave it a slight tug, forcing his mouth into an unimpressed smile. “I still don’t know how you did it.”

“With my dashing good looks and charming personality, obviously,” he proudly declared, chest puffing out as if it were honourable to be so egotistical. Before Neteyam could call him out for such, Ao’nung quickly catching sight of the way Neteyam’s lips curled back in an act to say something, he moved on with the conversation, never giving him the chance to, “Anyway, enough of that. You’ve got to promise me that this time you’ll let me finish speaking before you get all in your head and start making decisions, okay?”

“Okay,” Neteyam steadily agreed after a moment, finally leaning his head into Ao’nung’s palm and snuggling into the light hold. “I promise I’ll let you finish your piece.”

“Good,” Ao’nung exhaled, as a weight had just been lifted off his back. But as he finally focused in on bringing forth the gift he had spent hours working on for Neteyam, the Omatikayan boy’s golden eyes adoringly staring up at him as he patiently waited for all to be revealed, he felt his earlier confidence begin to wither. While he had joked earlier about their very first pearl exchange, Ao’nung couldn’t help but feel himself be full emersed in that moment as he was flooded with similar feelings to that day. “Okay, wait, now I’m nervous.”

“Ao’nung,” Neteyam stressed, reaching a gentle hand up to loosely wrap around his wrist. It was a small comfort, but it was all the comfort Ao’nung needed as he helplessly waited for what Neteyam was about to say, ready to cling to every syllable as he tried not to give in to the same avoidance tactics he had once used. “Don’t make me interrupt you now.”

“Right,” he swallowed thickly, giving one sharp nod of his head as if to say Ao’nung had heard him loud and clear, and wasn’t going to let anything get in the way. Ao’nung could do this. He had already done this once before– actually, he had done this way more than once before, and despite a few bumps here and there, it had never necessarily gone wrong. He needed to get back into that gloating mindset of somehow winning over the most stunning and deadly, don’t let him forget deadly, Na’vi in all of Pandora, so that he could go through with this. Come on, where was he?

Clearing his throat, Ao’nung finally pulled out his arm from behind his back, momentarily dropping his hold on Neteyam so he could properly present the item he had spent many hours slaving away over. In the gentle flickering light of one of the torches Neteyam had set up, the cluster of pearls Ao’nung had intricately strung together glimmered, showing off their milky-white iridescence. 

Occasionally, when Ao’nung shifted his hands just so, Neteyam caught sight of a few darker pearls. They were black in colour, standing out starkly against the sea of white as they gleamed in their own special way, absorbing the light and illuminating in return, flickering in what could only be described as akin to Neteyam’s freckled tanhì (bioluminescent freckles). 

It was gorgeous. Neteyam didn’t even know what the pearls were meant to be yet, Ao’nung failing to explain the details of the piece and its meaning, but Neteyam already knew that whatever it was, it was breathtaking. 

“Since you already bear my mark,” Ao’nung finally started, trying his best not to fidget with the pearls as he spoke. The entire time that he did, no matter how nervous he looked, even as he was slowly regaining his confidence, Neteyam stared over at him and the crafted piece mesmerisation, not being able to pull his gaze away from him or the pearls in his hands for more than a few seconds, making it so that Neteyam’s eyes were constantly flickering between the two. “I thought it was time I added to it.”

Not being able to help himself, Neteyam began to blurt out despite Ao’nung’s warnings, “But I thought you said–”

“What did I say about interrupting me, Yawne (Beloved)?” he cooed, regardless of Neteyam chiming in on the beginnings of a rant, his gaze filled with warmth and love as he stared Neteya down, making him reconsider what he had just done in spite of his promises not to.

“Right…” Neteyam eventually mumbled once he realised what he had done. Ears folding back against his head, Neteyam did his best to not look guilty as he tried to apologise, though Ao’nung didn’t seem to mind too much, already accounting for a small slip-up along the way, even if this time it wasn’t from him directly. Still, that didn’t stop Neteyam from rushing out a quick, but small, “Sorry.”

“It’s alright, Yawne (Beloved). But, as I was saying,” Ao’nung continued, bringing his attention back to the aquatic treasures that he had scoured the sea hunting for. He himself couldn’t get over how well the chest piece had come out, having to beg Rotxo to sit still and model for him so he could measure different parts of it to his body, making sure that when it finally rested upon Neteyam’s skin, there were no stray pearls that he didn’t account for. “I wanted to add to the mark you already wear. I began working on it long before the Sky People attack, but even then, I never had a true direction in mind that I wanted to take it in.”

This time, when Ao’nung took a small pause in between his sentences, Neteyam made no move to cut in with his own thoughts, sitting quietly as he marvelled at Ao’nung.

It didn’t take a genius to notice the adoration that was pouring out from Ao’nung, Neteyam easily picking up on it from the way he spoke and delicately handling the gift he had constructed. He could feel the time and care that Ao’nung had put into it, and he wasn’t even able to touch it yet, Ao’nung still clinging onto the pearls, almost as if it were a shield, as he rambled through what he had to say. 

“Only recently did I start working on it again,” Ao’nung said, his features finally settling into the small, private smile that was meant only for Neteyam. “While you were gone, I picked up a few ideas from the Wind Traders when they came to Awa’atlu. They’re the ones who inspired me to create this into a chest piece that you can wear. And when my mother suggested the idea of a feast in honour of your healing, I knew I wanted to get it done in preparation for tonight, so that I could adorn you with them. I mean, only if you want to.”

Neteyam could do nothing more than stare in awe as he listened to Ao’nung speak, even once he had come to a prolonged stop and was looking at Neteyam as if he was expecting an answer. He just couldn’t help it, not when Ao’nung had made this just for him. Opening and closing his mouth a few times as if there was something Neteyam wanted to say, because really, there was so much that Neteyam wanted to say, but he didn’t know how to say any of it. Not in a way that mattered, at least.

When Ao’nung didn’t hear anything though, his thoughts were instantly flooded with every reason this had been a foolish idea. Who was he, to think something made by his hands could ever be worthy of someone like Neteyam?

That same familiar whisper in the back of his head that he had never quite been able to silence, telling him that he’s not enough, never enough, curled through him like a current, reminding him why he’d never live up to what Neteyam deserved, especially now, when Neteyam needed support more than ever. 

As the silence began to stretch too long, Neteyam’s eyes fixating on the pearled chest piece instead of Ao’nung, he came to the startling realisation that he had ventured too far from shore with this one. Just one look at Neteyam told him everything he had to know: his restless tail had finally come to a halt, his lips twitched with words that died before they could ever formulate a proper sentence, and his pupils expanded until there was only a sliver of gold left. 

He had gone and ruined it. The one thing he had been so careful not to do, and he had done it anyway. He had pushed too hard, given too much, and now Neteyam was slipping right through his fingers before he had ever truly had him. Or at least, before he had him in a way that was acknowledged by Eywa’s law. 

And yet somehow, seeing it written so plainly across Neteyam's face made it so much worse.

“Neteyam…?” Ao’nung hesitantly called out, testing the waters as his hands dejectedly lowered into his lap. The words had barely left him before he wished he could pull them back. Neteyam looked up sharply, his expression crumpling at the edges in a way that Ao'nung wasn't sure how to read, but it didn't feel like indifference, and that somehow made it harder to bear. “Oh… you don’t like it, do you?”

“What?” Neteyam felt betrayed by his own voice as the word came crumbling from his lips, so much uncertainty lacing the syllable as he gazed at Ao’nung with a furrowed brow and confusion clouding his eyes. When Ao’nung couldn’t even look at Neteyam though, staring down at the pearls as if they had wronged him, Neteyam’s hands reached out and took a gentle hold of Ao’nung’s wrists, fingers curling gently around his teal skin as he stared Ao’nung down with unbearably earnest eyes. “No, Ao’nung, I love it. What would make you think that?”

“It’s fine, Neteyam,” Ao’nung brushed him off, already beginning to fold back into himself. “You don’t need to lie to me to make me feel better. It was a foolish idea anyway. At least I’ll know now what not to do if I’m ever accepted to make you a courting gift.”

“I wouldn’t lie about something like this, Ao’nung,” Neteyam almost begged, trying to stop Ao’nung from pulling away. “Never.”

When that did little to ease the Metkayina, though, Neteyam very gently extracted his hands from Ao’nung’s wrists and instead placed them over the pearls. He didn’t take the chest piece from Ao’nung; instead, he let his fingers trace over the intricate pearls, committing each one to memory as he kept his touch so deliberately tender that it made something ache behind Ao'nung's ribs. Neteyam acted as if each pearl meant something dear to him. As if he meant something.

And he did. Ao’nung meant so much to Neteyam that he often found himself undeserving of someone so devoted. Which, he wasn’t. The other Neteyam had won the heart of Ao’nung, claiming it as his own and earning himself an ardent life that would’ve been filled with adventure and never-ending bliss if only he hadn’t somehow gotten in the way. 

“Can you help put them on for me?” Neteyam asked anyway, cautiously licking his lips as he tried to be more than just an imposter. Despite that, Ao’nung’s breath hitched at the question, his whole mind going blank as Neteyam looked up at him with reverent eyes. As if that wasn’t enough to send Ao’nung into shock either, Neteyam adoringly said, “I’d be honoured to wear them tonight at the feast.”

“Are you sure?” He hadn't meant to ask. Or maybe he had, some small, guarded part of him needing to hear it confirmed before he allowed himself to believe it, terrified that if he moved too quickly, the moment would dissolve like sea foam between his fingers.

“I wouldn’t ask you if I wasn’t,” Neteyam giggled, the noise sounding like music to Ao’nung’s ears as his fingers crept back up until they were enclosed around Ao’nung’s wrists again, giving them a small tug so that he’d be spurred into action. When Ao’nung still showed a beat of hesitancy though, his eyes filled with hope despite it, Neteyam begged, “Please?”

Ao’nung didn’t have to respond for Neteyam to understand his answer. The Metkayina boy slowly adjusted himself until he sat crouched behind Neteyam, carefully unthreading a few coils at the back of the chest piece. Delicately laying it across Neteyam’s skin, almost as if he were afraid it would break on impact, Ao’nung adorned Neteyam with the pearls, allowing for long strands to wrap around his shoulders and upper arms, before coming to an end over his chest. 

In Neteyam’s mind, the accessory almost reminded him of a shawl, though, of course, it didn’t offer him the same type of coverage as one typically would. The one that Ao’nung had made was strictly meant to be a decoration, highlighting Neteyam’s navy skin and his lean figure, as the pearls offered him no practical use. 

Still, Neteyam couldn’t help but love it, as Ao’nung’s hands momentarily settled in the back of his neck, twisting a few pieces of leather together into a knot, securing the top there. 

For a few seconds longer than necessary, Ao’nung’s hands rested on the back of Neteyam’s neck, his breath fanning across the skin there, making it prick with goosebumps. Neteyam was unsure if there was anything else that needed to be done regarding the pearls and securing them into place, but when Ao’nung leaned forward, his lips ghosting the back of his neck, never fully committing to the touch but being close enough that their presence was known, Neteyam realised why.

Despite how close they seemed, they had never shared any real intimacy. Before then, the most they had engaged in was some innocent hand holding, and, perhaps, if you looked at it from a certain angle, some light cuddling when they sat too close to one another in the comfort of their mauri. But never had either of them gone in for anything more, taking it that extra step further, because they both knew that the person Ao’nung would be reaching for wasn’t the one he had initially grown to cherish. 

That fact became undeniably clear as Ao’nung hesitated for a few seconds too long, keeping Neteyam close enough that he could, but not being able to become, once again, he wasn’t him. He wasn’t the one who Ao’nung wanted, but he was close enough, as close as he might get, depending on how tomorrow goes. 

“How do I—” Neteyam struggled to get the words out, stuttering over each syllable as they sat heavy on his tongue, almost making him choke from their weight. He had been stupid to let himself fall into the trap that was Ao’nung, bordering his old life too closely that it could only end in resentment from here on out. Ao’nung wanted more, but he couldn’t take it from Neteyam, not like this, when there was no certainty that he’d be the same. Still, Neteyam could pretend, just like he had been this whole time while in Awa’atlu. Only, he had never thought he’d have to pretend with Ao’nung, the cracks already beginning to show themselves as what he had desperately been working for was once again reduced to ash. “How do I look?”

“Breathtaking,” Ao’nung murmured before Neteyam could fully turn to face him. As Neteyam did though, his movements sluggish as he feared what he might find, he came face to face with Ao’nung’s sparkling eyes, truly taking him in for everything that he was worth. “Like Eywa created you just for me.”

His words should’ve been a reassurance, reminding Neteyam that Ao’nung saw him for what and who he was now, but instead, they did the opposite. Neteyam was only made even more aware of all that he was missing. He no longer had the history that he and Ao’nung shared; he couldn’t recall what Ao’nung’s favourite fruit was, or how he spent his free time, or even what his Tsurak (Skimwing) was called. He knew nothing about him, while Ao’nung knew everything about Neteyam. It was unfair to Ao’nung, cruel in a way that Neteyam would never know. 

That thought in particular stuck to the forefront of Neteyam’s mind, refusing to be shaken no matter how hard he tried to bury it beneath the surface. He forced a smile anyway, wide enough that he hoped it might reach his eyes if he held it long enough. But it faltered, because of course it did, almost immediately, trembling at the corners like it had never truly taken hold, and Neteyam found he didn't have the strength to rebuild it. Not in front of Ao'nung, who was already watching him too closely, too carefully, the way he always did.

“Neteyam,” Ao'nung's voice dropped, losing all its warmth to something more urgent. No longer was he concerned with how prettily the pearls shone against Neteyam’s skin, but instead with how Neteyam’s face was hopelessly beginning to crack. Settling his finned hands at the crook of Neteyam’s elbows, Ao’nung didn’t push or force himself into Neteyam’s space; instead, holding him at arm's length so he could seek comfort from him as he needed it. “What’s wrong?”

“I just…” Neteyam muttered, his eyes darting away from Ao’nung’s, doubting that he’d be able to stomach looking into his concerned sea-blue irises, not when they were desperately searching for an answer to his question. “I’m sorry, I’m not the version of him that you used to know.”

“What do you mean?” The words came out quieter than he intended, his thumbs drawing small, absent circles against Neteyam's skin as he tried to find the thing that Neteyam wasn't saying.

“I mean, that he’s gone and I’m what you’re stuck with as a replacement,” he couldn’t help but be bitter as the words came tumbling from his lips, his nose scrunching in clear distaste as he finally admitted what had been plaguing him. “I can see how you loved him, and how everyone else simply adored him, and now he’s gone, and I’m all that’s left.”

“That doesn’t matter to any of us, Neteyam,” Ao’nung was quick to argue, but Neteyam was already shaking his head before Ao'nung could finish. His words seemed to wash over Neteyam without ever truly reaching him, sliding off like water from reef stone, Neteyam’s jaw setting itself tightly as his head shook slowly, eyes downcast and far away, lost somewhere Ao'nung couldn't follow, no matter how desperately he tried to find the thread that would pull him back. That didn’t stop Ao’nung from trying, though, “You are him. He lives in you. Maybe you can’t see it, but you’re not so different.”

“But what if he never comes back and I’m all that’s left?” Neteyam felt as if he were struggling to breathe as he raised the question, his eyes widening and taking on a panicked state, almost as if he were a cowering animal. “What if, when Norm arrives, everything goes wrong? Maybe I won’t be able to get my memories back, as Mo’at said. Or, maybe, Norm will find out with his Sky People medicine that I’m stuck like this, and you’ve all just wasted your time.”

There was something almost pained in the way Ao'nung surged forward, instinctive as his head dipped low in a desperate attempt to catch Neteyam's downcast eyes, mouth already opening around the argument he refused to let die, “Neteyam, that—”

“I’m just saying that maybe you should be prepared to be disappointed,” Neteyam couldn’t help but cut Ao’nung off, finally looking up at him as the confession spilled from his lips. His voice broke on the last word, barely catching itself before it could shatter completely, and he hated how much it gave away, how clearly it told Ao'nung that this wasn't just a fear he carried, but a grief he had already begun to mourn. “I’m not him, and I may never be him again.”

The silence that followed was the loudest thing Neteyam had ever heard. He hadn't meant to say it, or rather, he hadn't meant to say it like that. So openly, so rawly, without any of the careful packaging he had spent days wrapping around it. It had just come loose, the way things always seemed to around Ao'nung, unravelling before he could catch the ends of it and tuck them safely back out of sight.

He exhaled slowly through his nose, trying to collect himself, but the grief was already sitting fully in his chest now, heavy and undeniable, refusing to be swallowed back down the way it had been every morning he had woken up and chosen to keep going. 

He had said it out loud. He had named it. And somehow that made it so much more real than it had ever been inside his own head.

Ao'nung didn't fill the silence. He just held him, thumbs still moving in those same small, patient circles against his skin, giving Neteyam the room to fall apart without making him feel like he had to.

Ao’nung gave him the moment. Counted it out in the rise and fall of Neteyam's chest, in the way his breathing gradually evened out into something more controlled, more deliberate. Too deliberate, Ao'nung realised, recognising the difference between someone who had found their footing and someone who was simply deciding to stop showing how badly they were still falling. 

Neteyam's eyes were already beginning to slide away from his, his weight shifting incrementally backwards, and Ao'nung knew, with a certainty that sat low and firm in his chest, that if he didn't say something now, Neteyam would be gone before he ever truly arrived.

“Have you gotten it all out now?” Ao’nung’s voice was steady as he spoke, measured in the way that Neteyam had come to recognise meant Ao'nung was choosing every word carefully, precise to the point that it left no room for argument or self-deprecating talk. Now giving Neteyam the chance to pull away before he could come to a real, solid decision, Ao’nung’s hands slid from his elbows to catch his hands instead, holding them loosely but deliberately in an anchor disguised as a request, gentle enough that Neteyam could break free if he truly wanted to, but firm enough that he hoped he wouldn't. “Because there are a few things I want to say, and I really need you to stick to your promise earlier not to interrupt me.”

In his uncertainty, Neteyam searched Ao'nung's expression carefully, the way he always did when he wasn't sure whether to believe something, and found, unsettlingly, nothing to doubt.

So, he nodded. But barely, the motion trembling at the edges in a way he couldn't quite control. He didn't know what Ao'nung wanted to say, couldn’t even begin to imagine what words were about to leave the Metkayina’s lips, but there was something in his voice that made him want to stay and find out. So he swallowed down the instinct to flee, tightened his fingers around Ao'nung's just slightly, and waited.

“I don’t care that you’ve lost your memories, or that you’ve changed from the Na’vi I once knew,” Ao’nung began fiercely, not allowing any of his words to be left up for debate as he spoke with so much certainty that it almost scared Neteyam. “I love you, Neteyam. And I’d love every version of you that could possibly walk across Pandora.”

The words hit him like a wave he hadn't seen coming, stealing the breath clean from his lungs as his whole body seemed to jolt with the impact of them. His fingers twitched around Ao'nung's, his mind lurching in too many directions at once, disbelief pulling one way, something desperate and aching pulling the other, and underneath it all, a fragile, terrifying thing that felt dangerously close to hope cracking itself open in his chest before he could think to stop it. 

He opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again, finding nothing waiting for him there; no words, no arguments, nothing that could possibly measure up to what Ao'nung had just laid down at his feet.

“It doesn’t matter what memories you remember, or what past you’ve lived, or what you’ve done,” Ao’nung bulldozed on, though, but not without catching the way Neteyam wanted to say something, if he had to guess, probably an argument as to why Ao’nung shouldn’t feel how he did about him. “In every lifetime, in every universe, I’m always going to love you. Even if it were me who had forgotten everything, I know I would somehow make my way back to you and keep loving you, Neteyam, because that’s all I know, and that’s all I ever wish to know.”

Neteyam felt the tears before he could do anything to stop them, prickling hot at the corners of his eyes as his lips pressed together in a trembling line, fighting a losing battle against everything Ao'nung's words were pulling to the surface. His ears folded back against his head of their own accord, the way they always did when he had run out of places left to hide.

“Nothing could change that,” he finally confessed, reaching a hand up to cup Neteyam’s cheek and hold him close. To cherish him in all the ways he had been lacking before, making sure that this Neteyam knew that he was loved just as much as any other Neteyam would’ve been. “Not you one day leaving Awa’atlu, not you joining the Mangkwan, and certainly not the Sky People and their attempts to take you away from me. Oel ngati kameie (I see you), Ma’Teyam.”

As soon as those last three words left Ao’nung’s mouth, those three words that meant more to a Na’vi than anything else that Pandora could conjure up, something in Neteyam gave way entirely; some last, stubborn part of him that had been holding the rest together finally letting go, releasing everything it had been carrying all at once. It crashed through him like a breaking wave, sudden and total, as it washed away the last of his resistance, finally opening his eyes to what had been standing in front of him that entire time.

There was no need for Neteyam to doubt himself. No need to have ever doubted Ao’nung either. Because at the end of the day, he was hopeless for Neteyam. 

But he was just as equally hopeless for Ao’nung.

Before Neteyam could think, before he could second-guess or talk himself out of it the way he always did, he was crashing forward and closing the distance between them. Haphazardly throwing himself into Ao'nung's chest with a force that sent the both of them reeling back a step, Ao’nung met him with the same fierceness as he took Neteyam into his arms and pulled him impossibly closer, not stopping until the only telltale of where one of them began and the other ended was the clash of their skin tones. 

Upon making contact, Neteyam’s fingers curled into Ao’nung’s skin, holding on with everything he had. There, in Ao’nung’s arms, as he felt the taller boy hook his chin over Neteyam’s head, he felt, not for the first time since Awa’atlu seemed to drag the best of him out, that he was exactly where he was supposed to be. And, maybe, for the first time since he had arrived on those foreign sands, Neteyam couldn’t imagine himself anywhere else, not when he and Ao’nung finally had each other on an equal playing field.

Because whatever he had lost, whatever version of himself had been taken from him, this had always been waiting on the other side of it. Ao'nung had always been waiting, and he always would be waiting.

“Oel ngati kameie (I see you),” Neteyam whispered into Ao’nung’s skin, the words sounding akin to a prayer. Trying to fight back the sniffles that were threatening to overtake his body once more, Neteyam buried his face into the side of Ao’nung’s neck, stealing his warmth and comfort for as long as the Metkayina would allow. “Oel ngati kameie (I see you), Ma’Nung.”

“Woah,” a new voice rudely gasped as they stepped into the marui without properly presenting themself, making one of Neteyam’s hands hurriedly drop to the new blade Neytiri had insisted that he carry with him (the same one he had used to attack Jake) and his head fearfully snap in their direction to assess who it was. When Neteyam’s eyes only landed on Lo’ak, the younger boy’s nose scrunched as he stared at the scene playing out before him, Neteyam couldn’t help but roll his golden irises, trying his hardest to not let any annoyance seep through. With a grimace, Lo’ak commented, “I feel like I’m interrupting something here.”

“Because you are,” Ao’nung groaned, not bothering to hide any of his distaste as he shot Lo’ak a nasty glare, his top lip curling back into a snarl.

“Jeeze, my bad Bro,” Lo’ak scoffed, clearly feeling no remorse for getting in the way of whatever had been happening as he leisurely strolled into the mauri, making himself right at home. Other than the physical closeness of Neteyam and Ao’nung’s state, he seemed to be nonethewiser to the emotional toll their conversation had been having on Neteyam, though he doubted that would last much longer with how– “Hey, wait a second. Is Neteyam crying?”

“What? No,” Neteyam quickly huffed out, momentarily turning away from Lo’ak and using Ao’nung as a shield to cover his face as he swiped a thumb under each of his eyes, ridding his skin of any of the moisture that had been building there. Though Neteyam knew it wouldn’t do much for the puffiness of his eyes or the fact that they were bloodshot, he could only hope that Lo’ak wouldn’t look too closely as he turned back. “Lo’ak, I’m fine.”

“I don’t think so,” he tsked, storming over to the two as he set narrowed, more calculating, eyes onto the scene. Immediately shoving himself between the pair, Lo’ak asserted himself as a barrier between Ao’nung and Neteyam, making the Metkayina boy roll his eyes as Lo’ak seemed to have no problem getting into his face. “I’m going to need you to back up Fishlips, and to get your hands off my Big Bro. I don’t know what you’ve done to him, but you better not do it again.”

“No, wait, I want Ao’nung to do that again,” Neteyam blurted out before his brain could fully register the words that were leaving his mouth, making his face flush a deep purple hue when the lingering meaning behind his statement caught up to him. That, paired with the smug smirk that was beginning to stretch across Ao’nung’s face and the confused furrow to Lo’ak’s thick brows, had him quickly trying to backpedal on what he had just said. “I mean, stay out of this Lo’ak, it doesn’t concern you.”

“Yeah, Lo’ak,” Ao’nung mused, far too delighted with the change in situation for a boy who had been so grouchy only moments ago at being interrupted. “Listen to your ‘Big Bro,’ and butt out of our love life.”

“Love life?” Lo’ak spluttered with a screech, looking aghast as his head whipped around to face Neteyam, waiting to see (and praying that it wasn’t) true. When Neteyam only grew shy in response, his gaze averting to the mauri floor in an attempt to hide himself, Lo’ak knew he was two seconds away from making himself known at a very bad time. Snapping his fury-filled gaze back to Ao’nung, Lo’ak tsked, “Oh, not on my watch, Fishlips. I think it’s time we bring back some of our old rules since you think you can be all buddy-buddy with Neteyam.”

“Old rules?” Neteyam curiously questioned whilst Ao’nung let out another, albeit this time a bit more defeated groan. Sparing him no mind, knowing that at the bare minimum, it was just some annoying little back-and-forth banter that the two shared, Neteyam promptly asked, “What are you talking about?”

“I’m glad you asked, Bro,” Lo’ak smiled pridefully, ecstatic to share this news with Neteyam and firmly set it back into place so he could sleep easily knowing that nothing unholy would be happening while Neteyam was sharing a mauri away from home. Slinging an arm over Neteyam’s shoulders, he nodded his head towards the entrance, hoping to get this show on the road as he began saying, “Dear old Dad set up a few ground rules for you and Ao’nung when he found out Fishlips over there was having some scandalous thoughts about you.”

“I was not,” Ao’nung scoffed as he quickly made his way after the pair, though he seemed a bit horrified by the idea of Lo’ak so easily giving out this information, almost begging Neteyam to look his way so he could clear the air.

“You most definitely were,” Lo’ak argued, grabbing hold of Neteyam’s jaw when he tried to look back at Ao’nung, forcing his head forward again so he could have his full attention. When Lo’ak was sure that he did, he couldn’t help but shoot Ao’nung a pointed grin, one that the taller boy scowled deeply at, Lo’ak already knowing he was in for it later when he didn’t have Neteyam there to act as his protector.  “Anyway, as I was saying, Dad set up some ground rules. Ao’nung wasn’t allowed to be with you without a chaperone, and when he was with you, you had to leave room for Eywa, whatever that means. You also had a strict curfew that he had to get you home by, otherwise Dad wouldn’t let him spend time with you.”

“That just sounds like traditional courting,” Neteyam huffed, expecting to hear something a lot more groundbreaking. He could kind of see why Ao’nung might’ve wanted to keep these rules under wraps, but only because they would fundamentally change the way the two of them had been living the past few days, not because they were necessarily tedious. “Minus the gifting stage.”

“That’s because you guys basically were already courting,” Lo’ak scoffed, as if the idea of his older brother dating someone was truly horrendous. Which, Neteyam guessed, he couldn’t completely blame Lo’ak for acting in a way. He wasn’t exactly thrilled by the idea of any of his siblings suddenly getting together with anyone, not that he knew if that was even a possibility right now. “You just weren’t allowed to call it that yet because Ao’nung was a loser who hadn’t yet passed his rites.”

“What did you just call me?” Ao’nung practically growled as soon as the foreign word fell from Lo’ak’s lips, the sound of the syllables even making Neteyam’s ears twitch at how odd they were. Coming up beside him and pointing an accusing finger at Lo’ak, Ao’nung hissed, “I know it was bad. You only speak in that Sky People language when you’re making fun of me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lo’ak innocently mused, refusing to look back at Ao’nung as he dragged Neteyam through the different mauris of the village, taking him to, or at least what Neteyam presumed, where the feast would be located. With an easy shrug, Lo’ak deflected, ”It must’ve been the wind because I didn’t say anything.”

“Real mature, Lo’ak,” Ao’nung scoffed, not allowing himself to fall behind for even a second despite Lo’ak making no moves to give in to his demands. So, instead, Ao’nung set his eyes on a new target. “Neteyam, do you know what he said?”

“He said ‘loser,’ I think,” Neteyam unhelpfully supplied, copying what Lo’ak had said and surprising himself with how easily the word fit on his tongue. 

“Yes,” Ao’nung absentmindedly agreed, still not understanding what that word meant, but not wanting to derail Neteyam too much by revealing how little that answer actually helped. But when Lo’ak let out a loud cackle at Neteyam’s response, not being able to help himself as he practically cackled in Ao’nung’s face, he felt some of his patience begin to chip away. Almost carefully, as if he were handling a newborn baby, Ao’nung prompted, “But what does it mean in Na’vi?”

“Oh, um…” Neteyam momentarily faltered at the question, his lips thinning together as he tried to rake his brain for some sort of translation. As he did so, Neteyam could feel Lo’ak’s eyes boring into the side of his head, the younger Na’vi clearly being interested in what answer Neteyam would give, which only seemed to apply more pressure to Neteyam, not remembering any English lessons coming up in his memories. “I think it means… snaytu (loser)?”

“Loser?” Ao’nung gasped, looking completely beside himself that Lo’ak would even consider calling him that. “Oh, I’ll show you who the real loser is—“

Before Ao’nung could get another word out, his face already twisted into a deep scowl with his cheeks turning a faint purple from irritation that made it so obviously known that he wasn’t about to back down from this argument with Lo’ak, ready to make it known who the real ‘loser’ was, only to be completely pushed to the side as Lo’ak’s hold on Neteyam tightened. Quickly pulling away from the straight path that they had been originally following, Lo’ak led Neteyam with his usual confidence to a new destination, one that wasn’t hard to figure out as his eyes fluttered around the spacious mauri where clusters of Metkayina Na’vi were gathering. 

Now that Neteyam was actually paying attention to his surroundings instead of focusing on the bickering taking place between his younger brother and future mate crush, Neteyam could easily take in the wafting smell of food being cooked, with rich spices being lavished across fish and the citrusy scent of the freshly picked fruit that he, Kiri, Tsireya, and Tuk had spent the morning gathering, the communal mauri housed an abundance of mouth watering smells. 

Faintly, Neteyam could hear a soft set of drums being played not too far off from where they walked. No matter how much he craned his neck though, he found it impossible to try and locate the musician tending to them, clearly having been hidden away somewhere to not disrupt the ambience of the night.

With that, there was also the light chatter that filled the space, almost going disrupted a few times as Lo’ak cut it a bit too close for comfort as he sent the two of them nearly crashing into different groups in his overzealous adventures. Though none of the Na’vi seemed to mind, the worst of their angers being a soft scowl sent their way, Neteyam couldn’t help but apologise for Lo’ak’s disregard, shooting them all kind and apologetic smiles as he attempted to keep the air void of any tension.

By the fourth time this occurred though, Neteyam couldn’t help but shake Lo’ak’s arm off from around his shoulders, shooting the younger boy a warning glare that was only waved off with an easy-going smile. 

At the sight of the action, the steady down turn of Neteyam’s lips only seemed to deepen, his brow furrowing with them as he went to say something, planning on reprimanding the younger Omatikayan boy, only to feel the words die on his tongue as soon as his eyes skirted past his brother, now landing on a familiar navy family as they got comfortable tucked into a small corner.

This was the first time, apart from when he had first woken up in Awa’atlu after being kidnapped by Jake and held hostage in their family mauri, that Neteyam had seen the entire family together.

Jake sat the closest to the rest of the room, acting as a physical barrier between the Metkayina Na’vi and the Sully family, ready to be a protective force if anything were to go wrong. With a set jaw, a puffed-out chest, broadened shoulders, and constantly watching eyes, Jake surveyed the area, occasionally spearing a quick glance at whatever Tuk was trying to show him or to check on the rest of his kids, before returning his attention to the matter of making sure no danger had arisen. 

It would only be a matter of time before Jake’s eyes landed on him and Lo’ak, the latter not exactly trying to make their presence go unnoticed. At the same time, Neteyam both dreaded and welcomed that unavoidable sighting, still slightly nervous just from being in the man’s general facility, but also craving his attention to be once again on him, enjoying it so much when it had just been him, Jake, and Neytiri in their mauri.

Next to Jake sat Tuk. Like always, she wore an energetic smile on her face as she sorted through a few different bracelets that sat on her wrists, constantly rearranging the order that she wore them in to see which suited her best. Whenever she thought she had discovered some groundbreaking pattern, she’d try to get Jake’s attention to show it off, quickly ditching that plan and turning to Neytiri, who sat beside her, to get her opinion instead. 

Ever the dutiful mother, Neytiri would smile whenever the same five brackets were put before her eyes, cooing at how Tuk had done a wonderful job and seemed to make herself look even more beautiful with every passing second. But as she sat there, with her back straight and her ears perked forward, Neteyam couldn’t help but feel as if she were waiting for something, or better yet, someone.

Neteyam didn’t want to get his hopes up and believe that the woman was waiting for him, not yet ready to bear the disappointment if he were wrong, but if her were being realistic, he couldn’t quite think of anyone else who could have Neytiri so on edge, her eyes occasionally darting to the different entrances of the mauri to inspect the newcomers.

Or, of course, she could just be waiting for Lo’ak. To save himself some later embarrassment, Neteyam was just going to choose to believe that Neytiri was waiting for him.

Slightly behind the three of them, were Kiri and Spider. The two of them, apart from Tuk, seemed to be the most casual of the family, leisurely waiting for dinner to finish cooking as they chatted idly amongst themselves, not showing as much of a haste as Jake or Neytiri to spot someone familiar in the crowd. From how they sat, Neteyam could tell that they were comfortable in the knowledge of how tonight would go, not bothering to stress themselves out or work themselves into a fuss as they waited for what they already knew was coming. 

And that something, most definitely was him. Neteyam couldn’t even deny that and tried to pin their nervousness and excitement onto Lo’ak, because as soon as Lo’ak stepped up to the Sully’s, leaving Neteyam (accidentally) somewhat behind as his pace slowed considerably. 

Absentmindedly greeting Tuk with a ruffle of her braids and some sort of handshake with Spider, Lo’ak plopped himself down next to their adoptive sister, making himself comfortable as he paid no mind to the way five sets of heads quickly turned in the direction he had just come from, their golden (and Spider’s brown) eyes landing Neteyam’s slightly stiff figure as he took them all in. 

From his spot a few meters away, Neteyam could already see the subtle hope sparking to life in Neytiri’s eyes, disguised by a warm, self-assured smile as her eyes raked over Neteyam despite only seeing him an hour or so ago. 

Jake immediately seemed to relax upon taking Neteyam in, silently checking him over for any new developments or injuries that he should be aware of. Neteyam couldn’t help but wonder how the older man would react if there were something wrong with him, though when Jake’s eyes settled on Neteyam’s cheeks for a fraction of a second too long, reminding Neteyam of how there were tear tracks staining the skin there not too long ago, Neteyam decided he no longer wanted to find out. 

He’d also blissfully choose to ignore the way Jake’s eyes locked on the new pearls he adorned like a hound, his nose flaring slightly at the sight before his eyes darted away in an attempt to find Ao’nung, probably. 

Kiri and Spider, despite trying to hide it in an attempt to be nonchalant in their big brother’s eyes, seemed just as relieved to see Neteyam standing there, even if he was a bit hesitant to take the final few steps and join them. While a welcoming smile blossomed across Kiri’s face, her head nodding back in a small signal to draw Neteyam closer, Spider waved a hand over at him, both stealing his attention and calling him to his side.

And then, of course, there was Tuk, who wasted no time pushing herself up from her seat and bounding over to Neteyam, a massive grin plastered on her face as she practically threw herself into Neteyam’s hold.

“Tsmukan (Brother),” she delightfully cheered as she wrapped her arms around Neteyam’s hips, burying her face into his stomach for a few seconds as she made her affections known by nuzzling the skin there. “You’re finally here.”

Unlike before, where Neteyam had been cautious about returning the smaller girl’s love, Neteyam easily wrapped his own arms around Tuk, holding her as closely as he could manage until it was she who was shoving herself out from his grip. Making a show out of trying to keep Tuk as close to him as possible, not loosening his hold until he heard the bubbling laughter of his little sister, Neteyam could feel all his earlier doubts about joining the Sullys for this feast wash away,

“Come, Teyam,” Tuk squealed as she made quick work of wrapping her tiny fingers around Neteyam’s hand, interlacing their digits as she gave him a sharp tug, already steering him towards where the rest of their family sat. “We’ve been waiting for you. I even saved you a spot with me in between Sa’nu and Sempu (Mummy and Daddy).”

“Slow down, Tuk Tuk,” Neteyam couldn’t help but laugh as he stumbled after the little girl, a wide grin plastered on his face that he was sure matched Tuk’s own. “There’s no rush.”

“Yes, there is,” Tuk groaned, effectively pulling him into the space she had previously been occupying. Now that the both of them stood there, Neteyam wasn’t too sure how they were both going to fit into the small space, only having enough room for either Tuk to sit comfortably between their parents, or for Neteyam to sit shoulder to shoulder with them. Despite this, Tuk seemed to be insistent on claiming their spot, hastily pointing down to the spot. “Now sit.”

“Jeeze, you’re bossy,” he mumbled as he did as he was told, cheekily smacking his tail lightly into the side of Tuk’s thigh as he turned around and took a seat. Before he could even begin to try and make room for the little girl, Tuk was already clambering into Neteyam’s lap, getting comfy as if that was her designated spot. 

Instead of questioning the way his heart thumped inside of his chest with an unmatched warmth, or the way he easily snuggled into Tuk, taking her into his hold and getting himself comfortable as well, Neteyam turned to his parents sitting on either side of him, offering them both small smiles that bordered on being shy, as he greeted them, “Hi, Jake, Neytiri.”

“Son,” Jake acknowledged him with a gruff nod, meeting him with a soft smile of his own that seemed more moved than anything else as he took in the sight before him, not being able to stop the way he softened around the edges.

“Hello, oeyä hì'i tsamsiyu (my little warrior),” Neytiri’s soothing voice sounded like syrup to Neteyam’s ears, her hand coming up to smooth down some of his braids and affectionately tuck them behind his ears. At the contact, Neteyam couldn’t help but lean into her touch, basking in it for a few moments too long before remembering where he was and quickly pulling back, his cheeks being dusted by a faint purple as his eyes skipped around the room to see how many people had caught on to his affection. Neytiri, on the other hand, did not care for such trivial things, bringing Neteyam right back to her as she asked, “How are you tonight?”

“I’m good, Sa’nok (Mother)— I mean, Neytiri,” he murmured in response, sucking in a small breath of air at his slip-up. Neytiri didn’t seem to mind though, looking much too pleased with herself as she coddled the boy, doing whatever it took to make him call her that again. “I spent some time with Ao’nung before Lo’ak came to get us.”

“Is Ao’nung the one who gave you these pearls?” Tuk easily interjected herself back into the conversation, her fingers excitedly running across the pearls that sat on Neteyam’s skin, marvelling at their beauty. At Neteyam’s shy nod, Tuk let out a cheerful gasp, which was probably the most positive reaction he had seen her have in regards to the other boy. ”They make you look so pretty, Teyam. I wish I had some pearls like yours.”

“I’m sure if you asked Ao’nung nicely, he’d be more than happy to find some pearls and make something for you,” Neteyam innocently remarked, booping Tuk on the nose. At his words though, Neteyam couldn’t help but notice the way Neytiri let out an amused huff, almost as if she were trying to keep a laugh in. Feeling his face flush for the umpteenth time that night, Neteyam turned to Neytiri with a confused tilt of his head, trying to figure out what he had done to cause such a reaction, only to find Neytiri schooling her features into something more neutral as soon as Neteyam’s naive eyes had landed on her. “What?”

“Nothing, Paskalin (Honey),”  Neytiri lightly mused, smiling all too kindly at Neteyam as she tried to deter his curious eyes. “Do not worry about it.”

That hadn’t been what Neteyam had been hoping to hear. In fact, it was the exact opposite. It also wasn’t an answer that Neteyam could even begin to believe. So, like any pouty child who hadn’t gotten their way, Neteyam turned to face his dad, Jake seeming to sit up a bit straighter once he noticed Neteyam’s eyes on him. 

Clearing his throat, though it sounded more like he was choking than doing anything productive, Jake turned to Neteyam and tried to offer him one of his more supportive smiles, already sensing a familiar pool of dread beginning to build in him as he asked, “What’s up, Son?”

“What’s so funny about Ao’nung giving some pearls to Tuk?” Neteyam asked, two large golden eyes blinking up at him as he waited for an answer. “I thought that would be a nice thing.”

“Um, well… you see…” Jake fumbled out, looking as if he’d much rather be anywhere else than sitting across from Neteyam and having to explain this to him. Still, he attempted nonetheless to do his duty as Neteyam’s father and explain things to him when he asked, even if this was something that he’d much rather have Neytiri explain to him, though she seemed content in his soft giggles. Eywa, he’d already gone through this once. Why again? “Pearls hold a bit more value here in Awa’atlu than just any old gift.”

“I don’t get it,” Neteyam mumbled with a deadpan, making Jake hunch in on himself a little tighter as he dragged an exasperated hand down his face.

“Look, what I’m trying to say,” Jake grumbled out, leaning in until there wasn’t much space between the two of them, eliminating any chances of someone else, specifically Tuk, overhearing their conversation as he whispered to Neteyam, “Is that you and Ao’nung have been… very close for a while now, and he just wants everyone to know that you’re his— wait, no, you’re not his. Um, that you’re spoken for. It’s something reserved for mates only.”

The moment those words left Jake’s mouth, Neteyam felt himself sitting impossibly straighter as he felt the meaning behind the suddenly heavy pearls sitting along his chest, shoulders, and upper arms settle in. As if on cue, Neteyam’s tail began to go crazy, wildly smacking the woven flooring behind him as it arched back and forth. He also found it hard to maintain eye contact with Jake now, his gaze quickly settling on the ground just past Tuk’s head, where the little girl was very obviously trying to listen to their conversation.

“You know, like,” Jake unfortunately carried on with his absolutely humiliating explanations, reducing the both of them to an embarrassed mess as he tried, and failed, to find a good way to word what was happening, even though Neteyam definitely didn’t need to hear any more. “A way of continuing to stake his claim over you. Telling the other suitors to back off.”

“Okay, Jake,” Neteyam pinched out, ears flickering with every hushed word that was brushed against it.  “Thank you. I understand now.”

“Don’t worry, kid,” Jake couldn’t help but chuckle as he leaned back into his original seated position, finally noticing the way Neteyam’s body was involuntarily going haywire. The sight had the corners of his lips stretching further across his face, doing no good except for making Neteyam’s heart beat a little bit faster at how easily his family seemed to be able to read him. “It’s not exactly like I want to be having this conversation either.”

From the way Jake was joyously taking in the scene, Neteyam wasn’t so sure he could believe the man’s words, his earlier misfortune being easily stripped away at the easy chance of embarrassing his eldest child. 

Chancing a shy glance up at Jake in response, Neteyam could see how the corners of his eyes were creased elatedly, his lips stretching into a wide grin as he tried to subtly hide some of his amusement by shaking his head in an attempt to clear it before returning his eyes back to the communal mauri, surveying it with much less rigour now that he had what he had been originally searching for by his side. 

Neteyam, however, couldn’t as easily go back to normal. But instead of trying to soothe himself back into a relaxed state of being, Neteyam did the one thing that could only make his condition worse. He looked over at the crowd of Metkayina Na’vi and searched for Ao’nung, not stopping until his eyes landed on familiar teal skin, blue eyes that resembled the ocean, and curls that freely fell across his shoulders.

The moment Neteyam turned to find Ao’nung, he should’ve known it was a bad idea. In fact, he should’ve known it was probably one of his worst ones, sitting right under thinking he’d ever have a chance of completing the Iknimaya that Varang had set for him and trying to kill his family. 

Why? Because instead of silently being able to observe the other boy until he could get his emotions under wraps, he found Ao’nung’s eyes already boring into him, his watchful gaze not missing anything as he took Neteyam in for all that he was worth.

As soon as Ao’nung realised he wasn’t the only one looking at the other boy when he shouldn’t be, a teasing smirk pulled at his lips, making his calm, content demeanour shift into something more hungry. Preadatory, even. Cocking his head to the side, Ao’nung made a show of leisurely waving over at Neteyam, not even bothering to hide his previous acts of blatantly staring at him, instead embracing it as he acted with an air of confidence.

Despite himself, and what probably would’ve been a smarter move, Neteyam found himself coyly waving back at him, his own lips twitching up into a small smile, widening ever so slightly when Ao’nung’s features turned from arrogant to excited, the tip of his thick tail letting out an experimental flick from where it had curved around. 

Raising his hands as if he were about to sign something over to Neteyam, half expecting him to just magically know the translation, Ao’nung’s fingers never even got the chance to twitch into a different shape as a booming voice cut across the distance between them, making Ao’nung’s face drop in a similar manner to how it had done so many times before.

“Keep your eyes to yourself, Fishlips,” Lo’ak’s grating voice shouted across the mauri, bringing multiple heads snapping in his direction as he magically appeared in front of Neteyam, putting on his knight in shining armour act as he came to defend Neteyam’s honour, even if that was the last thing Neteyam wanted him to be doing right now. Still, Lo’ak stood undeterred, not even budging when Jake whispered harshly at him to sit down, or Tuk grabbed at his tail, giving it a hard yank since he was embarrassing them all. “Neteyam doesn’t need you slobbering all over him from over there.”

Feeling his breath hitch at the words falling from Lo’ak’s mouth, and not in the good way, Neteyam shot his younger brother a scathing glare, the sight meant to be a warning, not that Lo’ak could really see it from where he stood. Oh, Neteyam could just die of embarrassment. What was with his family and trying to make him seem like a blundering fool that night?

“What are you doing, Lo’ak?” Neteyam hissed out lowly, his eyes darting back and forth between the different villagers as they began to stare as Lo’ak caused a commotion, and Ao’nung, who was trying his best not to shrink in on himself, even though he was also the centre of attention. “Sit down. You’re making a scene.”

“Don’t worry, Big Bro,” Lo’ak waved him off, barely casting Neteyam a glance over his shoulder as he shot him a confident smile. “I’ve got this.”

“Lo’ak, no—”

“Just wait a couple of more days, and then you can start your courtship in peace,” Lo’ak abrasively announced for the entire clan to hear, revelling in the way Ronal’s head snapped towards Ao’nung, probably ready to give him a piece of her own mind at how Ao’nung had been doing exactly what she had warned him not to. With a boastful edge to his voice, Lo’aj quickly added on, “Only, I’m going to make sure I'm chaperoning all of your dates so you don’t try anything funny—”

Lo’ak never got to finish that train of thought, as just as he was about to shout out something else that would’ve been vaguely offensive in an attempt to make a mockery out of Neteyam and Ao’nung’s halted courtship, a hand sprang out of nowhere and clasped itself tightly over his mouth, effectively silencing Lo’ak for the time being. 

“That’s enough now,” Neteyam coldly muttered, not exactly being proud of the fact that he’d basically just had to fling Tuk out of his lap so that he could try and shut the other boy up. “I think you’ve said your piece.”

Neteyam could feel Lo’ak’s lips moving against his hand in an attempt at a response, his words coming out muffled from how secure his hold on Lo’ak was, but he paid him no mind. Instead, Neteyam began dragging the other boy back forcibly, hauling him over to where Kiri and Spider sat with matching grins of delight and rascality, taking great amusement in not only Neteyam and Ao’nung being clowned on in front of everyone, but also in the way Lo’ak was quickly getting scolded for the act.

“I can’t believe you would yell that out for the whole clan to hear,” Neteyam haughtily scoffed, his face wrinkled with annoyance as he gave Lo’ak’s head a little shake, not wanting the boy to be let off the hook so easily. He was sure that Neytiri or Jake would most likely have something to say, though for different reasons. Still, Neteyam wanted his own words to be heard first, “You could’ve at least had some tact if you were going to— EW!”

Flinging the limb away from Lo’ak’s face as soon as he had felt something wet dart out from between Lo’ak’s lips, a slimy stripe coating his dark hand, Neteyam stared at the glistening sheen coating his skin, already knowing what had just happened. 

“Did you just lick me?” he couldn’t help but whisper in horror, refusing to even look at Lo’ak for a second. But when he did, Lo’ak knew he was in for a long night as Neteyam’s wide and disgust-filled eyes lifted and landed on him, revulsion clear on his features as he pondered how a thought like that could even cross Lo’ak’s mind. But really, who was Neteyam kidding? This was, after all, the boy who thought he had to get in between every interaction that Neteyam had with Ao’nung on the basis of keeping Neteyam’s honour intact. Still, he spluttered, “What are you, five?”

“You weren’t letting me talk,” Lo’ak measly shrugged, as if that answered all Neteyam’s questions. “What else was I supposed to do?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe act like an adult and wait until I let go of you?” Neteyam cried out, throwing his hands into the air, exasperated by this whole ordeal. He should really be watching what he was doing, especially when the entire clan had been staring at him only moments ago, but he couldn’t find it within himself to care at that moment, far too preoccupied with giving Lo’ak a piece of his mind.

At his chagrin, though, Lo’ak just let out a dramatic sigh, his eyes rolling as if this was a conversation they had had one too many times, and because of that, Lo’ak just couldn’t bother to listen anymore. Neteyam wasn’t going to have that though. 

“Did you seriously just roll your eyes at me?” he scoffed, shaking his head in that annoyed manner when there was something more he wanted to say, but couldn’t in case he accidentally said something he knew would hurt more than he intended. So, instead, Neteyam took a quick, calming breath, keeping in mind how, although Lo’ak had thoroughly embarrassed him and Ao’nung, he was doing it in good faith. Even if Neteyam couldn’t see how or why Lo’ak thought that was a good idea, he knew that was the reasoning behind it. With that in mind, Neteyam grinned and lunged for Lo’ak. “Ugh, get here right now.”

Quickly securing Lo’ak into a headlock, his arm rather loosely hanging around Lo’ak’s neck as he held him close to his own body, Neteyam playfully dragged Lo’ak back and forth, his hand coming to mess up Lo’ak’s braids as the two of them whirled around in small circles, not being able to contain themselves.

“You need to learn when to keep your mouth shut, Little Bro,” Neteyam teasingly groaned, tightening his hold on Lo’ak for a fraction of a second before reducing it back to its original looseness, making it easy enough for Lo’ak to break out of it if he really put up a fight. “I’m surprised Sa’nok (Mother) hasn’t sewn it shut yet.”

“Believe me, she’s tried,” Lo’ak couldn’t help but joyfully laugh, giving as good as he got as he wrapped his arms tightly around Neteyam’s middle, careful of the pearls hanging lowly there as he lightly shoved Neteyam around in retaliation. “Now get off of me.”

Despite saying that, Lo’ak’s bubbling laughter continued to fill the air, his hands, that had once been pushing at Neteyam’s bones and pulling at his skin in an attempt to get him away in order to break free, quickly turning into an affectionate hold as Lo’ak began to cling to Neteyam, holding him close and not allowing him to get away for even a fraction of a second. 

Neteyam, of course, did nothing to break this hold, his headlock quickly turning into a hug as Lo’ak was more than content to just stay by his side. It kind of reminded Neteyam of Tuk, in a way. The both of them hurriedly turning to cling to the ones they loved, only Lo’ak was much more reserved in his affections, keeping it hidden until it eventually burst out of him all at once, and he was left in a situation similar to the one he currently found himself in: embraced in the loving arms of an older brother he had thought he’d lost.

If Neteyam could, he would’ve happily stayed in Lo’ak’s arms for the remainder of the night, no longer caring about the small humiliation ritual that the boy had forced him to partake in. 

Of course, though, the universe had other plans for them. 

Turning his head at the sound of his and Lo’ak’s names softly being called out, Neteyam came face to face with their mother, wearing a pleased smile at their interaction. Upon having their attention on her though, she waved the both of them over, gesturing to the food that was being handed out and the serving that was rapidly making its way over to their family. “Dinner is ready, boys.”

“Coming,” Neteyam quickly called out, eating a short nod in acknowledgment before Neytiri was turning her attention back to making sure there was enough food for their larger-than-average family. Looking back over to Lo’ak once that had been settled, Neteyam gave him one last constricting squeeze before promptly letting go of the boy entirely. Before he could scamper off though, Neteyam fixed him with an accusing stare, saying to him, “Don’t think you can pull that stunt again. Just because I can’t remember, it doesn’t mean I’m going to let you get away with everything.”

“Sir, yes, sit,” Lo’ak teasingly saluted, pulling an exasperated grin from Neteyam that had him shaking his head fondly and shoving Lo’ak away in the direction of their dinner, quickly following after him to make sure he didn’t miss out on the chance to get a decent portion. 

Returning to his earlier spot with Tuk, this time with Jake and Neytiri creating a bit more space between them so they weren’t forced to conform to the close proximity, Neteyam got himself comfortable in between his parents and Tuk, the little girl already holding a wooden plate filled with fish, rice, and fruit. 

Just as Neteyam was about to begin looking for his own plate, mouth watering at the smell and having a sneaking suspicion that Jake had been holding onto his plate for him since he had two set in his lap, the loud whirling of machinery and the bone-shattering screeches of Ska’avum’s (Nightwraith’s) and Ikran’s pierced through the night air, shattering the tranquil atmosphere that had been steadily building. 

In a matter of seconds, food was discarded on the floor, and teal bodies were hurriedly rushing through the space, hands grasping onto whoever they could find as everything broke out into a frenzy. But Neteyam couldn’t focus on that though, no. Instead, his ears were straining back as he watched everything begin to crumble around him, the distant battle cries of Mangkwan warriors sounding out through the air as they touched down on Awa’atlu’s shores. 

He had done this. He had brought terror to the Metkayina’s peaceful beaches because he had failed to say something about Ti’ol’s presence a few days ago. He had damned them all.

“Secure the children,” Tonowari’s booming voice shot through the air, and as Neteyam turned to face him, he wasn’t greeted by the familiar warm-hearted smile that he had grown used to, but instead a battle-hardened scowl as his eyes surveyed the crowd, calling out to his people as he got ready for war. “Warriors, grab your weapons. We are under attack.”

Before Neteyam could even blink, too focused on the destruction that was yet to come and the frantic bodies that were rushing past him, someone had grabbed onto his hand and violently tugged him in the opposite direction, making him fumble over his own feet as he tried to steady himself while also attempting to get a good look at the face of the Na’vi who had just grabbed him. The first thing that flashed through Neteyam’s mind at the sight of navy skin was fear, his body already closing up at the prospect of coming face to face with some of his old clan members. But when his eyes took in the lack of paint coating their body, he felt himself relax greatly.

“Come on, Bro,” Lo’ak called over his shoulder as he pushed the two of them through the rapidly growing number of warriors, all of whom were heading to the beach where a few Sky People helicopters were landing, and where even more Mangkwan riders were gathering. While they were actively running towards a fight, his fight, Neteyam was being ushered away, something that felt so deeply wrong that it made his stomach churn and his feet slow until Lo’ak was attempting to drag his dead weight, reluctant to move and hide when this was his doing. “We’ve got to go. It’s not safe for you here.”

“But this is my fault,” Neteyam pleaded, not being able to look over his shoulder helplessly at the chaos as it unfolded. Already, he could see Tonowari and Ronal leading the charge on the beachfront, attempting to talk down the situation even as demands were made. The rest of the Sullys, however, were nowhere in sight, fleeing from the scene just as quickly as Lo’ak had grabbed hold of Neteyam. “I brought this upon Awa’atlu.”

“No, you didn’t,” Lo’ak feasibly tried to reason, saying and doing anything that would have Neteyam moving again so they weren’t stuck there in the open like sitting ducks. “The Mangkwan are crazy, we already knew that. We’ve been preparing for this day, so if you don’t want this all to go to shit, then I suggest you come with me.”

Despite his offer of an ultimatum, Lo’ak didn’t give Neteyam much of a choice, using all the strength he could muster to pull Neteyam through the village, weaving their way down a familiar path as Lo’ak guided him back towards his mauri. 

One thing that Neteyam clearly didn’t know about Lo’ak, and was unpleasantly made aware of in those moments of terror, was just how strong that boy could be when he wanted to, because as soon as Lo’ak got a little bit of momentum to his movements, Neteyam found it impossible to slow down again, Lo’ak not even giving him the opportunity unless he wanted to be dragged across the woven flooring in Lo’ak’s mission to get him to safety. 

Doing what he did best though, Neteyam took that development in stride, chancing one last look at the awaiting carnage, watching as Varang’s Ska’avum (Nightwraith) touched down on the sandy beach and let out an ear-piercing screech, before he was being engulfed by the warm walls of the mauri. But Neteyam didn’t stop there, no. As soon as Lo’ak’s hold slipped from him, the younger boy dragging a hand down his face as he tried to gather his bearings, Neteyam marched over to where he had left his bow and singular arrow, picking it up just as quickly as the turn in the night's events. 

Although it was only one arrow, Neteyam doubting he’d even be able to fire it if he was faced with a Mangkwan members that he had grown to love, he still took it into his hand with a ferocity that screamed he was ready for battle. He’d be damned if he sat around waiting for the Mangkwan to leave while everyone else handled his problems when he was the reason they had arrived in the first place. 

He’d fight for Awa’atlu, even if it were at the disgrace of his old clan.

“Where do you think you’re doing?” Lo’ak almost screeched in horror when he saw how Neteyam was determinately holding his bow and arrow, gaze flickering to the door as if he were about to make a run for it.

“To fight,” Neteyam said, squaring his shoulders as he started striding through the mauri with only one goal in his mind. “This is my battle to end, after all.”

“Oh no you don’t,” Lo’ak scoffed, throwing himself in the way of the marui’s exit in order to stop Neteyam from leaving, caging him inside with his arms thrown wide to block off all escape routes. “You’re not going anywhere. I’m under strict instructions to keep you here in the case of an emergency. You’re not going to get me in trouble with Dad for disobeying orders.”

“Well, I’m sorry, Little Bro,” Neteyam tensely said, genuinely looking apologetic for a few moments as he stared Lo’ak down, giving him a few seconds to change his mind and move out of his way. When that didn’t happen though, Neteyam set his eyes on a new target. “But you’re going to have to forgive me for this later.”

Thick brows furrowing at Neteyam’s claim, Lo’ak stared at Neteyam in confusion as he asked, “What’s that supposed to mean—”

Before Lo’ak could finish that thought, Neteyam was charging him, making light work of whacking him over the head with his bow before Lo’ak could properly register what was happening or shift his body in order to defend himself. As soon as the thick curve of the weapon came into contact with Lo’ak’s temple, he was out like a light, crumbling forward and falling into Neteyam’s awaiting arms before he was carefully propped up against the wall. 

Neteyam really didn’t want to do that, but the matters at hand right now were, in fact, life or death, and Neteyam would do anything to ensure that there was no more blood on his hands, even if it meant momentarily betraying his kin. 

Taking one last shame-filled look at Lo’ak’s unconscious figure as he sat haphazardly against the mauri’s wall, he let a deep sigh fall from his lips, letting his regrets wash away before Neteyam was dashing through the village once more, not a Na’vi in sight as he ran back towards the commotion as they were all either already at the beach, waiting for Tonowari’s command to lunge forward, or taking shelter somewhere as they waiting for all to return back to normal. 

For a few moments, as he sprinted over the springy flooring that linked the village together, Neteyam worried that Awa’atlu may never be the same because of what he had brought there, because of the damage his presence alone had done. Despite his memory loss, he still knew the stories of the Mangkwan, and had them so deeply rooted in his being that he couldn’t forget them even if he wanted to.

The Mangkwan brought vast destruction wherever they went. A meeting with them was a death sentence within itself, as the only prisoners they took were those who would be sacrificed to the fire. Entire clans had been wiped out in mere hours just from being in the wrong place at the wrong time, the Wind Traders being the most recent addition to that long list of deaths.

So, if Neteyam really thought about it, he knew that tonight would not go as smoothly as Tonowari, or any of his other warriors, would hope. Even if Neteyam willingly handed himself over to the Mangkwan if that’s what it took to keep the village and those who inhabited it safe, Neteyam knew that wouldn’t be enough. 

It was never enough for Varang. Neteyam had found that out the hard way. 

Just as Neteyam was about to break through the last few mauris in between him and the gathering number of warriors waiting on the beach, already hearing the distant negotiations of Sky People tongue, a hand shot out and snaked itself around his middle, yanking Neteyam back before he could even begin to gather his bearings or realise what was going on. 

Again, panic overtakes Neteyam’s mind before he could even begin to rationally come up with a plan, his body violently shaking in his captor's hold as he tried to thrash his way out of their hands, not even bothering to get a good look at the Na’vi’s face. Because really, who else could it have been other than a Mangkwan warrior who had crept away to go searching for him? The beach was probably just a diversion, stealing away everyone’s attention so that a few scouts could have free rein of the village to search for him—

“Calm down, Ma’Teyam,” Ao’nung’s voice flooded through his ears, and in seconds, Neteyam was slumping back against his chest, allowing himself to feel the exhaustion he had been trying to ignore as Ao’nung’s hold on him shifted, morphing from a restraining grasp to one of comfort.

Turning in Ao’nung’s arms, Neteyam brought his own up to cradle the Metkayina for a second, his weapons getting in the way slightly as they prodded into the two of them at odd angles. Immediately, Ao’nung’s eyes were drawn to the bow and arrow, worry flashing to life in his blue irises as he stared down at Neteyam in confusion, but Neteyam couldn’t find it in himself to care, soaking up these last few minutes of warmth before stepping into the uncertainty. 

“You can’t be out here,” Ao’nung’s voice cut through Neteyam’s plans though, concern lacing each of his words as he tried to nudge Neteyam back in the direction of the mauri. Though by doing so, Neteyam was made acutely aware of the spear he had clasped in one of his hands, its sharpened edge facing upwards as it gleamed in the moon's lighting. Ao’nung was going to fight. He was going to protect his home, only because Neteyam had put them all in danger. He couldn’t let that happen; he had to set things right. ”I thought Lo’ak was watching over you back at the mauri?”

“He was,” Neteyam blurted, quick to defend his brother when he had only been attempting to do what was right. “I… I knocked him out so I could join the fight. You need to let me go, Ao’nung. I need to go over there before things get worse.”

“Let you go?” Ao’nung breathily mumbled, the hand around Neteyam’s middle tightening slightly as ideas of Neteyam returning to the Mangkwan sprang to life in his head. Ao’nung couldn’t do that. Couldn’t let everything they worked for crumble apart just because Varang had shown up and was demanding her ‘son’ back. He would make sure that didn’t happen, even if it upset Neteyam. “Ma’Teyam, I can’t.”

“You have to,” Neteyam argued, desperate as he tried to pull away from Ao’nung and make a break for the beach. Why couldn’t any of them listen to him? It wasn’t as if Neteyam was so important that Pandora would stop turning if he disappeared. If there was something that he could do, then he had to do it. “They’re here because of me. I have to do something.”

“Let our warriors take care of this, please,” Ao’nung begged, taking a risk and bringing his hand up to cradle the side of Neteyam’s face, his thumb soothing across the skin of his cheek as he tried to reach through to the shorter boy. “They are far better equipped to handle this than you are. Just stay hidden, and everything will be okay.”

For a moment, Neteyam felt himself hesitate as he truly listened to Ao’nung’s words. He wasn’t wrong. Neteyam wasn’t properly ready for battle, not when all he had to defend himself was a bow he couldn’t remember using, a singular arrow, and a blade strapped to his loincloth. If he were lucky, he’d be able to make one good shot before he was rendered pretty much useless. The Metkayina warriors that had gathered on the beach, hell, even Ao’nung with his spear, were much better suited to stand up and fight. 

If Neteyam revealed his location now, he would only make things worse, as it would confirm the Mangkwan’s suspicions of him being kept in the village. For all they knew, Neteyam could be hidden somewhere deep within the forest that sat behind Awa’atlu, tucked away for the night after another unsuccessful day of not being able to kill any of his Iknimaya targets. 

He should listen to Ao’nung and go back to the mauri. That would be the right thing to do. The Metkayina’s were already doing him a massive favour, one that they must’ve thought out in advance if they had a plan put in place that involved Lo’ak hustling him back to the mauri and keeping him there until all signs of danger had passed. Instead of making their life harder for them, Neteyam should’ve been focused on making it easier, and if that meant hiding away for a few hours, then he should’ve listened and done just that. 

Feeling his body relax, nodding along to Ao’nung’s words before he could even piece together a coherent sentence, Neteyam felt himself give in to Ao’nung’s pleas, ready to turn around and make his way back to Lo’ak, where he’d curl around his unconscious state and wait for him to wake up. But then:

“Where is he?” a voice screeched through the night air, making Neteyam’s breath hitch and his body instinctively close up in fear as he looked over to see who it belonged to. There, standing next to Quaritch, a man whose existence had fled Neteyam’s mind for a short while, Varang paced with her teeth bared, ears flattened against her head, and her tail violently whipping back and forth behind her, searching the crowd for anyone who would betray their clan and cower before her in order to save their own hide, giving up the location of Neteyam. When no one answered her though, Varang let out a deadly hiss, asking once again, “Where’s my son? Where’s Neteyam?”

Looking over as soon as he heard his name, Neteyam’s eyes landed on the way hundreds of Metkayina warriors were crouched down before Varang and the rest of the Mangkwan and Sky People forces, submitting under their metal weapons. Among the sea of red, white and black, Neteyam could see some familiar faces, Ti’ol’s standing out the most from where he stood near the front of the pack, a satisfied smirk on his face as he surveyed the waiting crowd. 

Although it was hard to distinctively make out from so far away, Neteyam could also see Jake with his hands bound behind his back whilst spitting insults at Quaritch, his brow scrunched low into a deep furrow as he spoke in quick succession, although half of what he said seemed to go unheard by the RDA soldier as he tried to silence him. 

“If you do not reveal his location now,” Varang began, growing impatient with the lack of response she had garnered. Lifting some form of gun up in her hand, one that Neteyam had never seen before, she pointed the weapon at the nearest mauri that she could see, setting it ablaze as the gun began to spit fire, making Neteyam gasp and many of the Metkayina warriors back away, seeking safety from the collapsing structure as its flames began to spread. “Then I will burn this entire village to the ground until I find him.” 

By the look of animosity that was brewing on Varang’s features, Neteyam knew that she wasn’t bluffing. In fact, he was surprised that she had lasted this long without bringing up more threats, though he was just going to assume that he hadn’t been there for half of them, too caught up with bypassing Lo’ak and trying to bargain with Neteyam to hear her. 

Her demands were simple though. Give her Neteyam, and all of this would go away. Turn Neteyam over to her, and the rest of the village would go untouched. 

It was what they deserved. They had been gracious enough to house Neteyam even though he couldn’t be trusted, accepting him as one of their own again, even if that was the last thing he deserved, so he should offer them that same courtesy and put this all to an end before it got any worse. 

Awa’atlu had been a good home to him, even if it was only for a short while. And for Neteyam, that was enough. 

“Neteyam,” Ao’nung started, catching sight of the determined gleam to Neteyam’s eyes and knowing that only trouble could follow in a situation like this. Attempting to regather the boy's attention, Ao’nung pressed closer, bringing their foreheads together until his entire vision was engulfed by the navy Na’vi, drinking him in like a sight to behold as he tried to reason with him. “Don’t—”

Neteyam never gave him the chance to finish that sentence, though. Instead, he took advantage of the slack grip that Ao’nung had on him, nothing but a gentle hand on the side of his face keeping him in place, and threw himself away from Ao’nung and towards the warriors who were ready to lay their lives down for him because it was their Olo’eyktan’s will. 

“I’m right here,” Neteyam called out, making hundreds of heads snap in his direction. Erratically cutting in between the crouched warriors, a few of them gasping at the sight of him, some even going as far as to try and grab and pull him back, Neteyam rushed forward, not stopping until he was by Jake’s side. Only then did he let the weight of his actions catch up to him, but instead of withering beneath his bad decisions, Neteyam lifted his head proudly, refusing to let himself be seen as weak before his old clan. 

“Neteyam, stop this,” Ao’nung desperately tried to reach out to him, hoping to reel him back in and pretend that no one had seen him yet, but it was far too late. There was no backing down now, not with the way Varang’s eyes were glued to him as if she were a hungry Toruk, ready to dive through the clouds and feast on her prey.

“Ao’nung,” Tonowari gasped, having a different idea as he grabbed hold of his son by the upper arm and forced him harshly down into a crouch at his side, keeping him there. “Stand down.”

“What do you think you’re doing?” Jake grunted next, almost breaking Neteyam’s focus this time as he struggled against Quaritch’s hold on him, ready to lunge forward and protect his son at any cost. Neteyam, if he had to guess, would say he must’ve learnt his self-sacrificing tendencies from Jake, since other than Neytiri, he was the only other Sully in sight, putting it all on the line to keep the rest of them safe. When Neteyam didn’t spare Jake a glance though, keeping his gaze level with Varang so as to not give the woman any advantage over him, Jake hissed for his attention, “Neteyam!”

“Ending this,” was the blunt response Jake got in return, making his eyes almost bug out of his head.

“Ma’itan (my son),” Varang greeted, almost pleasantly as she stepped closer to Neteyam, her tone contrasting the dire situation they all found themselves in. At her words, a loud hiss sounded out from the crowd of warriors, Neteyam not even bothering to turn his head as he already knew who it came from: Neytiri. His real mother. At the rage-filled noise, a triumphant grin stretched across Varang’s face, urging her to leisurely stroll towards Neteyam whilst she shot Neytiri a glance, boasting as if Neteyam were something to be won. 

“Varang,” Neteyam coldly called back in return, attempting not to flinch when she took hold of his kuru and began running her hands along the thick braid, her fingers occasionally stopping to toy with one of the jagged spikes that she had styled into it. 

“You disappoint me greatly, ma’itan (my son),” Varang crooned, catching on to the way Neteyam referred to her by her actual name instead of as the paternal title she had claimed for herself or her role in the clan. Raising to her full height in front of Neteyam, Varang towered over him, trying to intimidate the boy into backing down, or at least lowering his head in submission, only to be met with his defiant scowl, her hold on his kuru doing nothing to deter his goal. “I finally gave in to your wishes and bestowed you with the honour of completing your Iknimaya, and yet you’ve failed to do so.”

“My apologies,” Neteyam seethed, taking a daring step closer into Varang’s space. Perhaps if she had turned up even a day prior, Neteyam would’ve folded under her stare in seconds, trembling as he resigned to standing by her side as she laid waste to Awa’atlu, but she had turned up mere hours too late, giving Neteyam enough time to uncover the web of lies she had woven and fed to him from the moment he had awoken. “But I had second thoughts about the actuality of our blood relation when I got to properly meet my family.”

“Your family?” Varang hissed, her face splitting into a nasty glare as she tugged on Neteyam’s kuru harder, erasing any of the previous control he felt as she dragged him closer, tilting the conversation back into her favour. “I am your mother. I know more than anyone, including you, who you are of kin.”

Trying not to scoff at her words, seeing how ridiculous they sounded now that he had finally opened his mind to the fact that she was lying, Neteyam didn’t believe a word that was coming out of Varang’s lips. In fact, he detested them, “No, you don’t—”

“Argh,” the cry tumbled out from Neteyam’s lips before he even knew what was happening, his entire body momentarily seizing as he felt himself lose all control. Before his eyes, Neteyam could see it all, his worst memories coming back to life to haunt him as his grip on his bow and arrow loosened until they were falling to the ground, shooting a small cloud of sand into the air. It felt like he was drowning, choking on his past as Varang made him relive it.

He could remember the moment Jake had gathered him and his siblings to break the news of leaving the Na’rìng forest in favour of finding somewhere safer for them to stay, dying in the eyes of the Omatikaya clan. He could remember the feeling of his skin being ripped open as a bullet pierced through it, tearing him open as he dived into the water below, staining the ocean a deep red as his blood spilled out from him. He could remember the second that water flooded his lungs, his final breath being stolen as his last happy memories played before his eyes, accepting defeat before Telisi pulled him out. He could remember every terrible moment that he had ever lived, all of which made him want to shrivel up into a small ball and hide away. 

Forcing his eyelids to peel back so he could figure out what was happening, Neteyam’s golden irises landed on his kuru joined with Varang’s, her tattooed hand quickly being held up in front of his eyes as soon as she noticed them open, confining him to stare down the ‘eye that rules,’ answering for the sins he committed against her, the clan, and worst of all, the flame that orders them. 

“You think you know who you are?” Varang rhetorically asked, circling Neteyam as she made sure their kuru’s stayed connected. “You think you have a say in what you are?”

As she did, though, a series of warning hisses sounded out from the crowd of Metkayina, a few warriors, Neytiri, Ronal, and Ao’nung amongst them, jumping up in warning at her sacrilege. Though when a few of them came to his rescue, the entire Mangkwan clan came to Varang’s aid, aiming their weapons at those who dared to speak out, ready to fire their metal guns as soon as the word was given. That order never came though, Varang paying them no mind as all of her attention stayed trapped on Neteyam. 

“If it weren’t for me, you would’ve bled out a long time ago,” she snarled, grabbing hold of the flower crown that still sat on Neteyam’s head, covering the diadem that Varang had gifted him. With a harsh tug, all of Tuk’s work came unravelling around him, the soft hues of pinks and purples falling to the ground in a quick and quiet plummet. “Eywa would’ve let you die if I hadn't stepped in. She would’ve left you to rot, but instead, I took you in, I gave you a home, I made you Tsakarem, and this is how you repay me, with betrayal.”

It was almost impossible for Neteyam to focus on what Varang was saying, his whole body feeling as if it were being set on fire while simultaneously being held beneath the water's surface, his breath long since escaping his lungs and leaving him to drown. Having his kuru connected to Varang’s against his will brought on a blinding pain that had his vision spotting at the corners, but he was set on fighting it, set on fighting her as he had intended from the moment he was made aware of the Mangkwan’s presence in Awa’atlu. 

“You have failed me as my son, Neteyam,” Varang carried on though, uncaring for how much of her monologue was taken in by Neteyam as she forced him to endure the worst moments of his existence. “You have brought great disgrace to your clan. To think, you could’ve been a great Tsakarem if you had done what you were told instead of bringing shame to the Mangkwan.”

“Let him go,” Jake shouted across the small distance that kept him separated from Neteyam, his body withering as he tried to break the restraints keeping his arms bound together and the hold that Quaritch had on him. When his movements proved to be useless though, only working him into a frenzy, he rounded on Quaritch and barked out in English, spit flying from his mouth as he did, “Do your god damn job, Colonel, and control that Tsahìk.”

“I should cut your kuru right here for your failure,” Varang rattled on, but Neteyam was no longer listening to Varang, though. Instead, his eyes bypassed the tattoo shoved into his face and locked onto Quaritch’s figure as he helplessly stared at the scene in front of him. In those moments, Neteyam wondered if Quaritch saw the boy who had killed his friend in cold blood, even if it sent him into a panicked mess after, or if he saw the decaying child that sat at his mercy, his word alone being enough to end this. When he took too long to answer though, Neteyam wondered if he saw at all. “Maybe that’ll teach you to listen to your Sa’nok (Mother).”

That idea almost sounded like a fitting end for Neteyam, or at least it did in his mind. He had come here to cut the kurus of his family, and although he failed, he deserved to be punished for such a crime. At least if Varang decided to go through with this, it would be a full circle moment. 

“Enough, Varang,” Quaritch finally called out, interfering with Varang’s hold over Neteyam as he shoved Jake over to some Mangkwan warriors, who Neteyam would later find out were Zen’ho and Me’eve, in favour of detaching their kurus, finally freeing Neteyam from the endless pain and sorrow that had been erupting through his body, his mind seeming to have no end in sight for the horrors it could offer to Neteyam, not when he had spent most of his youth in an active war zone. Letting Neteyam crumble forward in the sand as he took a soothing hold over Varang, Quaritch tried to ease her back to their mounts. “We’ve got what we came for. It’s time to get going.” 

“But I’m not finished with him,” Varang thundered, not taking lightly to the interruption, even if it were from someone she willingly let into her inner circle. “An example needs to be made of him.”

“Do it back at base, Cupcake,” Quaritch easily pressed on, brushing her concerns to the side as he offered his stronghold up as a new place of operations, knowing that they were only a few seconds away from having Neytiri unleash all of hell on them for how they were treating her son. And once that woman lost control, it would only be a matter of time before the rest of the Na’vi followed in her footsteps. “You’ll have all the time in the world to set him straight and make sure he doesn’t betray our trust again. I can even give you a few new toys to test out.”

“Quaritch,” Jake bit out in warning, his voice undeniably a deep growl as he shot the Colonel a scathing look.

Ignoring Jake’s protest, Varang pondered Quaritch’s words, her eyes slithering down to Neteyam’s panting form as he attempted to collect himself. It was quite a pity the way tonight had turned out, but Varang was sure that with time, she’d be able to get Neteyam back under her thumb. She’d have to, unfortunately, ditch the lies of being his mother, but Varang knew she’d eventually be able to work her way back up to that title with a few well-placed acts. 

“Fine, we’ll deal with him later,” Varang finally relented, stepping back from the struggling boy and allowing half a dozen of her own warriors to breathe a sigh of relief. Any hope that had been gained didn’t last long though, not when Varang turned to a particular warrior who had been eyeing Neteyam since the moment he had arrived in Mangkwan territory. “Ti’ol, why don’t you look after Neteyam until we get back to the Sky People’s base? He needs a stern hand to guide him in the Mangkwan way since he seems to have forgotten himself, and I doubt there is anyone better than you to do so.”

“With pleasure, Tsahìk,” Ti’ol mused as he stepped forward, delighted to finally get his hands on Neteyam as he stepped up to the bordering-on-unconscious boy. With an air of arrogance surrounding him, his pride shining through at being handed such a responsibility, Ti’ol harshly grabbed onto Neteyam’s arm and yanked him up to his feet, making the boy thrash on contact. The defiance only made Ti’ol grin though, cooing out a teasing, “Woah, someone’s feisty today.”

“Get your hands off of me,” Neteyam tried to snarl, his top lip curling up as he bared his teeth to Ti’ol, only for the taller man to laugh in his face, pulling him closer until they were chest to chest.

“No can do, Yawntutsyìp (Darling / Little Loved One),” Ti’ol chuckled, his hold on Neteyam turning bruising as he tried to wrestle Neteyam into submission. The tightening of his hold only seemed to make it worse though, Neteyam shuddered in Ti’ol’s grip as he tried to do anything to loosen his hold, even going as far as to reach for the blade sitting at his hip. Like always though, Eywa seemed to be against him, as Ti’ol easily stopped Neteyam’s hand from swinging towards him, the blade caught before it could even do any damage. With a degrading laugh, Ti’ol murmured, “Looks like I’ve got to keep you on a tight leash.”

Those words made Neteyam’s throat fill with bile, as he knew there was more than one meaning to them. Ti’ol had never been one to shy away from making his intentions known, being as forward as he was annoying as he cornered Neteyam at every opportunity to try and force his favour. The thought alone of being in close enough proximity to Ti’ol, at his mercy even, because Varang was willing to let him get his way in this instance, made him feel sick. 

“And that starts with getting rid of this pretty thing,” Ti’ol cut through his thoughts, the back of his hand brushing along the pearls that ran along his chest. Praying the blade out from Neteyam’s hands, Ti’ol almost marvelled at the craftwork of the pearl shawl, appreciating how it looked on Neteyam before bringing the tip of the knife to a few of the strings that held the piece together, hooking it in. “It’s such a shame to have to destroy it, but, oh well.”

With one clean cut, Ti’ol brought the blade slashing through the pearls, no longer cherishing it as he watched each of the pearls flutter to the ground until all that was left in his wake was a few pieces of string wrapped around Neteyam’s figure, and the carnage that he had reduced it to. 

“Whoops,” Ti’ol muttered, not at all feeling bad as he watched as Neteyam’s face morphed into a look of horror staring at where the glinting accessory lay tarnished in the sand. 

It was ruined. The chest piece that Ao’nung had spent countless hours working on was ruined. The shawl that Ao’nung had started before his disappearance, and only found the strength to complete once the two were reunited, was now destroyed. Ti’ol had shredded it into pieces as if it were nothing, just as Varang had done with the flower crown Tuk had been so kind to weave together for him. Without even meaning to, they were already erasing everything that Neteyam had built. 

Before Neteyam could make his grief known, some less-than-kind words sitting on the tip of his tongue, a nasty hiss sounded across the beach, almost sounding like a roar as it brought multiple heads turning in its direction. Standing there fiercely, with a glare on his face and his spear ready to attack, was Ao’nung, staring Ti’ol down as if he had just committed a sacrilege.

Instead of being intimidated by Ao’nung’s clear warning, Ti’ol could only grin, sluggishly glancing over Ao’nung as if they were old acquaintances finally catching up after many months apart. 

“Fancy seeing you here, Ao’nung,” Ti’ol called out, his face twisted into an ugly smirk as he waved a casual hand over at Ao’nung, taunting him in hopes he would step out of line and give the Mangkwan a reason to attack. When Ao’nung’s eyes flickered over to Neteyam though, checking him over to see if he was okay. At this, Neteyam felt Ti’ol tense up, not liking how he was so easily overlooked. Tightening his hold on Neteyam, Ti’ol declared in an attempt to get Ao’nung’s gaze back on him, “Oh, don’t worry about this one, I’ll make sure to take good care of him. Who knows, he may even wear someone else’s mark soon enough.”

“I would never wear your mark,” Neteyam spat quickly in response, already feeling Ao’nung’s mixed state of hatred and sorrow, trying to stand tall in these last few moments for Neteyam’s sake. Neteyam couldn’t risk shooting Ao’nung a glance of his own though, not when Ti’ol was breathing down his neck at being disregarded. So instead, he settled for seething, “Not even if Pandora was burning.”

“We’ll just have to wait for Pandora to burn then,” Ti’ol grunted before promptly shoving Neteyam back, ushering him in the direction of his Ska’avum (Nightwraith), not even allowing for Neteyam to slip away for a second as he kept his hold on him firm. It wasn’t like Neteyam had much hope of slipping away anyway. Even if the Metkayina could flank him, Neteyam was feeling far too exhausted, both emotionally and physically, to put up much of a fight, his body succumbing to the strain that it had recently been put under. 

Stumbling towards the Ska’avum (Nightwraith), Ti’ol didn’t even give Neteyam a second to steady himself before he was making the bond with the Ska’avum and ordering it to kneel, allowing for Neteyam to climb onto its back easily. Not giving Neteyam the chance to do so for himself though, Ti’ol manhandled Neteyam into a position that he liked, claiming the spot directly behind him as he secured his arms on either side of his frame. 

With Ti’ol’s chest flush against his back, a growing sickness building in his stomach, his body twitching from exhaustion, and his mind reeling from the pain of his past, Neteyam thought this might be it. This might be the moment Eywa finally succeeds in putting him down.

But before she could do that, and before Ti’ol could harshly take off from the ground, not caring at all for Neteyam’s comfort as he took to the skies, Neteyam shot one last glance Ao’nung’s way, letting his gaze hang there heavily as he took in his lover's distraught face for one last time. Although Neteyam would’ve been much happier to see a more uplifted expression on Ao’nung’s features, especially if this was the last time he got to see him, he was just at least glad to engrave his face into his mind one last time, cherishing that moment with everything in his being.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I think my laptop might be slowly dying on me 😭 it's only happened twice at the time of me writing this, but the screen's saturation will randomly be turned up really high, but only when I open things like Chrome, documents, photos, etc. Like, I tried opening Spotify, and that was fine, so honestly, I have no clue what's going on there. A Google search told me it might be an internal wire being pinched or pulled wrong when I open my laptop, but I'm just going to hold on to hope that it was a random glitch since it's only happened twice. It better be a glitch cause I lit have no money and will not be able to replace it if it dies on me 😤

Update: it's happened three times now 🥲

Update: I’m taking it to the Apple Store to see if it can be fixed/is worth fixing cause the screen it doing one of those coloured glitches whenever I open it now 🤦‍♀️ watch me drop 2 bands later if it needs to be replaced

What started as a shared moment of tranquillity, their feet dipped into the water beneath their marui, and with Neteyam’s head resting on Ao’nung’s shoulder, was quickly torn apart as Rotxo came knocking not too long after, tearing Ao’nung away from him. 

Although Neteyam hadn’t been entirely listening, much more focused on the fact that Ao’nung had to leave him for the first time since his imprisonment, he thinks Rotxo mentioned something about it being in regard to some Olo’eyktan craftsmanship task. Though, Neteyam wasn’t sure how much he wanted to believe the boy’s word since he had been trying, and failing, to send subtle winks Ao’nung’s way for the entire duration of that conversation. 

Whatever reason Rotxo wanted Ao’nung out of that marui, Neteyam knew it had something to do with him. But from the way Ao’nung’s face lit up at the mention of it, brushing his fingers along the side of Neteyam’s face quickly as he asked if it was okay for him to leave, Neteyam couldn’t find it within himself to mind, flashing Ao’nung a reassuring smile before telling him to go. 

After that, though, Neteyam found himself alone. There were no little sisters dragging him around to help them with their chores. There were no younger brothers competing for his attention. There were no friends to occupy his time with. 

There was just him. Alone in a marui too big for just him. 

So, Neteyam found himself doing what any reasonable prisoner would do. He got up for a walk and left his temporary home as if he owned Awa’atlu, expecting his guards to fall into step behind him without so much as a glance in their direction.

Hearing the guards clammer after him, Neteyam couldn’t help the small smirk that threatened to split across his face, attempting to hide it in the way he peacefully looked around the village as he weaved his way through the different maruis and Metkayina inhabitants. A few of them offered Neteyam a kind smile of their own as he passed, their eyes easily catching on the white paint that decorated his skin and the flower crown he had refused to take off ever since Tuk had handed it to him. 

Neteyam tried to match all of their welcoming expressions with his own, doing his best to meet everyone’s eyes and ignore the way they cautiously looked at the hunters that were following after him, clearly not knowing the reason behind their presence. But eventually, when Neteyam’s feet hit sand instead of fabric, he felt his shoulders drop, and his face relax. 

Toeing the line between where the forest ended and the beach began, Neteyam walked along the island, making sure not to stray too far as he took in the scenery. Despite feeling as if he had been doing that a lot lately, he couldn’t help but return to his roots, enjoying the way it was all interconnected and reminded him of home without having to know the truth behind it. 

Instead of searching for memories as he had done so many times in the past, Neteyam instead focused on the way the wind lightly brushed through the trees, shaking the pale leaves that sat atop of them as it carried the fresh smell of the ocean with it. He let his eyes soak in the different shells that sat half-buried in the sand, having been brought in by the tide last night when it had reached its peak. Neteyam allowed himself to soak up the heat that beat down on his back, warming his skin and making its navy hues grow darker.

For the first time, it felt better than right. It felt like home. With no heavy expectations weighing Awa’atlu down, he no longer felt burdened to walk across its shores, instead accepting it solely for what it was.

But just as Neteyam had said earlier, all good things never lasted long.

Not too much further up the beach from where Neteyam stood was Neytiri. Neytiri, with her blazing eyes as she quietly took in the world, passing her silent judgment. Neytiri, with her steady heart, as she unashamedly loved those who were close to her, clinging to those even when they pushed her away. Neytiri, with her blind faith that Eywa had a plan for everything, and that no matter what, it would eventually work out just as the Great Mother had intended.

Neytiri, who was also wielding a bow that seemed to hold the power of past Olo’eyktan’s, as she unweaveringly stood with the weapon raised, reminding Neteyam of just how frightening the woman was, even from a distance. 

Despite the arrow punctures in both of her shoulders, the wounds heavily bandaged and covered in herbs, she stood tall and fierce as she shakily held her bow out in front of her, her body hopelessly crumbling under the pressure she was putting it through. Nocking an arrow, Neteyam silently watched as the woman, his mother, pulled back the draw string and took aim at a tree that stood not too far away. 

With one last calming breath, her body seemingly being forced into relaxation before Neytiri tugged the arrow back further, her face contorting in pain from where both of her shoulders were stretching against the still-healing skin, Neytiri let the arrow fly with a cry leaving her lips, the sound high and piercing as it shot through Neteyam’s ears. 

Not to anyone's surprise, even Neytiri’s, the arrow didn’t make it very far.

But that wasn’t what Neteyam could focus on. Instead of finding himself worrying about whether or not her arrow had met its target, Neteyam felt his eyes glued to Neytiri and the way she momentarily dropped the bow and brought her hands up to cradle where the wounds lay on her shoulders, knees almost buckling beneath the weight of her body. Although she tried her best to keep it under wraps, Neteyam could visibly see how Neytiri’s wounds were weighing her down, keeping her from acting at her full potential and subsequently damaging her mental strength. 

He had done that. He had reduced Neytiri to such a state. He had nocked his own arrow into the bow Varang had gifted him, much like Neytiri was trying to do now, and released it at her. But unlike Neytiri, Neteyam’s wound hadn’t been as fresh, hadn’t burned him as much, allowing for his arrow to meet its target. 

He had caused Neytiri to suffer in silence while she put on a brave face for her children, pushing forward so she could instead worry about him instead of herself. He had caused Neytiri to discard any attempts others made at caring for her since, in her mind, he needed it more. He had caused Neytiri to not be able to do one of the things she loved most because he saw her attacking someone he thought was his mother, helping shoot her out of the sky because of it, when in actuality, she was his mother.

And now, Neytiri was staring right at him. Staring at where he stood shamefully watching her as she tried to restore what he had taken, an arrow lying limply in the sand as she failed time and time again.

Neteyam knows he should look away, offer Neytiri some privacy in such a vulnerable moment, but he can’t do it. He can’t allow himself to hide away from the damage he had caused when Neytiri was still forced to live with it. That would’ve been too much of an injustice. 

Maybe he should’ve taken up that opportunity while he had the chance though, using it to quickly walk past Neytiri or turn himself so he was facing the other direction, pretending as if he had never seen her, because now, it seemed as if Neytiri had her own plans for him. Plans that wouldn’t allow him to silently suffer in the way he had wished to as she gave him one sharp nod of her head, signalling for him to come over and join her.

Feeling his breath catch in his throat at the invitation, Neteyam felt his body invulantarily entre fight or flight mode. While on one hand, he should be jumping at the opportunity to spend time with Neytiri, covertly gathering intel on his past so he could piece it all together without raising the alarms of the Sullys, he felt himself hesitate, not knowing if he should. 

The reasoning behind that being the fact that Neytiri was one intimidating woman. Even wounded, Neteyam had no doubts in his mind that she could easily take him on, putting all his training to shame. But that alone was another reason as to why he should be doing what his mother wanted. 

With hesitant, but hurried, steps, Neteyam crossed the small distance that stretched between them, his head hung low as he went. 

As he reached her though, he noticed one of her arms shift up, a hand being held up in front of her. Coming to a stop immediately upon seeing it, Neteyam felt himself freeze, as if he had misinterpreted her intentions. But then, once he finally raised his head enough that he could see her face, Neteyam saw how Neytiri’s attention wasn’t on him. Instead, her gaze was fixated on the two guards who had been trailing after Neteyam that entire afternoon. 

“Leave us,” Neytiri spoke coldly, her voice shooting a tremor down Neteyam’s spine. At the sound of it, Neteyam felt his head snapping down once again, making eye contact with the ground as he refused to look at anything but it. He doubted he’d be able to handle the fiery look in Neytiri’s eyes anyway, her voice alone serving as a warning, almost daring Neteyam’s guards to argue with her. “I’d like to spend time with Neteyam alone.”

“Our apologies,” one of them responded, almost making Neteyam believe that they would give in to her wishes. At the thought, he felt his stomach do a weird flip, unsure if he liked the idea of being completely alone with Neytri, far away enough away that no one would hear him scream, or not. “But we’re not permitted to do so. Neteyam must remain under our watch at all times unless he’s in his marui.”

“I will be here to supervise him,” Neytiri simply responded, her hand finally dropping back down to her side. Neteyam could already tell the guard had made a mistake by speaking out against Neytiri, biting his own tongue as he prayed for the guard's safety. “Your presence is not needed.”

“And like I said,” the same guard as before stepped forward to argue, taking up a dangerous edge to his voice as he crowded into Neteyam’s space, refusing to let him get too far. This seemed to be his second mistake, Neytiri’s face instantly twisting into a snarl as she witnessed the scene unfold. Not backing down though, the Na’vi insisted, “We can’t do that. It’s for your own protection.”

“Do you really think I need protection from my own son?” she finally hissed, crouching down and picking up her bow in quick succession before one of its pointed edges was almost jammed into the guard's neck, just stopping shy of pricking his skin. Neteyam didn’t have to look up to notice the way the man froze up, his limbs going stock still beside him, and his eyes widened, peering down at where Neytiri ignored her own pain in favour of standing her ground regarding Neteyam. “You will leave us now, and perhaps I’ll consider not telling the Olo’eyktan and Tsahìk about the trouble you’ve brought us.”

“Yes, Neytiri,” the second guard spoke up, his silent glares finally turning into words of action as he grabbed hold of his companion's arm, his grip turning deathly as blunt nails dug into the Metkaina’s flesh. “I apologise for Leyìon. We’ll leave the both of you to it.”

The two of them scampered off quite quickly after that, the second guard speaking rapidly into Leyìon’s ear as he dragged him off, his anger apparent.

After the distance between them and him and Neytiri grew greater though, Neytiri turned seamlessly back to her archery, almost acting as if the encounter had never occurred, as she took a few steps forward to pick up her failed attempt of shooting an arrow to give it another try. At this, Neteyam raised his head, chancing a cautious glance over his shoulder at where he had just been abandoned. 

Despite not wanting to, Neteyam couldn’t help but think about how easy it would be to escape. Other than Neytiri, there was no one there to watch him. There was basically no one there to stop him at that point, either, doubting Neytiri would be able to shoot him down if he did try to make a run for it. He didn’t exactly know how fast Neytiri would be, but with wounded shoulders like that, she couldn’t be any faster than a limping Syìl (Meer Deer). Still, he didn’t want to test any of those theories.

But he no longer wanted to escape. He was right where he wanted to be, albeit a bit frightened to be standing there. 

So, instead, he put his attention back on Neytiri.

Watching as Neytiri once again nocked her arrow and drew the string back, Neteyam felt his ears fold back as her attempt ended in another failure. This time, she tried not to let her annoyance and pain show so easily, biting down the grunt that threatened to spill from her lips, but Neteyam could still see it. 

He could see the way Neytiri’s face once again twisted in anguish, her lips curling back into a snarl as she instinctively almost dropped her bow again, wanting to run her hands over the wounds and soothe the pain there. He could see the way Neytiri’s tail thrashed behind her, the tip of it curled in displeasure as it lashed in erratic movements. He could see the way Neytiri tried desperately to keep herself strong, even more so now that he was standing with her, not wanting to look weak when she should’ve been a pillar of strength. He could see it all. 

“I’m sorry,” Neteyam found himself saying before his mind could catch up with the words leaving his mouth. It felt like a confession, getting that off his chest. Almost as if it were a sin he needed cleansing from. Neytiri, however, didn’t see it like that, her head snapping towards him with her confusion and concern shining through on her features, trying to piece together why Neteyam would be saying such a thing. Swallowing thickly, feeling his throat scratch before he could even get anything out, Neteyam acknowledged, “You wouldn’t be like this if it weren’t for me.”

As realisation dawned on Neytiri’s features, she also huffed in amusement, not being able to keep it in as she took in Neteyam’s flustered state. This didn’t make matters any better for Neteyam though, instinctively shrinking in on himself as soon as he heard the noise.

“That was not your fault,” Neytiri said, a finality to her voice that told Neteyam she was set within this belief and that there wasn’t much, if anything, that could make her think otherwise. Still, he couldn’t help but want to disagree with her. He had shot the arrow; no one else. That was a burden he had to carry. A mistake he made. “You were put in a hard situation and were being misguided at the time. I do not blame you for something that was out of your control.”

“But I didn’t need to shoot you,” he tried to rebut, his voice shaky as his hands grasped at thin air. Even if Neytiri was set in her ways, he had to try to make her see clearly, rationally, just as she had tried to do for him. He wasn’t innocent, and deep down, he knew Neytiri was aware of that. “I could’ve– I could’ve done it all differently. But I didn’t, and you got hurt because of me.”

“No, Neteyam,” she spoke calmly, leaving no room for Neteyam to argue his case further. Bringing a hand up and setting it softly on Neteyam’s shoulder, she gave the skin there a light squeeze, almost looking as if she wanted to drag her fingertips higher, tracing the paint that rested there until she could cup his cheek and hold him close. “I got hurt because of Varang. As I said, you were going through a time of need, where instead of supporting you, that witch used you. It is not your fault.”

That couldn’t be right. Neytiri had to be wrong. She couldn’t just accept that Neteyam played no harmful part in what happened to her. Because he did. He’s the reason she was injured, and no amount of reassurance would change that. He couldn’t change that. 

But as Neteyam looked at Neytiri, really looked at her, he realised that it wasn’t up for him to decide. It was Neytiri’s decision that mattered the most, and if she believed that Neteyam could be forgiven, his unjust acts already having been spoken for with the punishment he was facing, his memory loss, then he couldn’t deny Neytiri that.

With a small, hesitant nod of his head that let on more than Neteyam would’ve liked, revealing to Neytiri just how unsure he was of himself at the moment, and how much he wanted to believe her words, Neteyam gave in to her, whispering an uncertain, “...Okay.”

“Good,” she said, her eyes blinking slowly as if to set their joint confirmation in stone. With that, she also released Neteyam, still sticking close but taking a few steps back until she was ajar to where he had previously been standing when attempting to use her bow. For a moment, Neteyam thought Neytiri might try again, picking up the discarded arrow and inspecting it for a few seconds. But she never nocked it into her bow. Instead, she turned to Neteyam, tilting her head in the same manner as when she had first called him over, “Now come closer. I want to see what you remember.”

“What do you mean?” Neteyam asked, his brow muscles pinching together as he obediently obliged. Stepping forward, he tried not to flinch when he felt Neytiri settle a gentle hand on his back, guiding him into her old spot and turning him towards the same tree she had been facing. 

Then, wordlessly, she offered her bow to Neteyam, additionally holding out the single arrow she had brought with her.

“Oh– Neytiri, I can’t,” he immediately refused, his head shaking, hands propped up in front of him as if to tell Neytiri to not come a step closer. Even if Neteyam wanted to use her bow, which he really didn’t, the weapon looking like something Eywa herself had carved, he wasn’t permitted to. With no guards there to even supervise the interaction, this was really pushing it. “I’m not allowed to use any weapons.”

“No one is here to tell,” Neytiri mused with a small quirk of her head, a soft smile making its way onto her face as she took in Neteyam’s hesitancy. She’d always known her son was a stickler for rules, but even now, she’d have expected him to jump at the opportunity to wield a proper weapon. Perhaps she and Jake had been slightly too thorough when teaching Neteyam, his siblings lacking his ability to actually follow orders. “Besides, I heard Lo’ak ranting about Ao’nung yesterday. Something along the lines of him wanting to hold your hand instead of giving you his blade.”

“That’s different,” he tried to argue, but his words came out flat, having no real standing to back up his claim. From the way Neytiri only hummed in response, Neteyam knew she didn’t care.  In a last-ditch effort to win himself the case, Neteyam muttered, “That’s… Ao’nung.”

“And I am your mother,” she rebutted, seamlessly moving into Neteyam’s space and forcing him to take the bow from her hands. Even then, though, Neteyam seemed scarily unsure of himself, as if one wrong move would shatter the one good thing he had going for him, and that, Neytiri couldn’t accept. “All I ask is that you show me your skills. We all know you haven’t gotten sloppy, not when you’re able to shoot at me and your father in the midst of battle. You’re also still hunting. The kids found some of your arrows, so your craft can’t be that forgotten.”

For a moment, Neteyam could only stare at Neytiri, his fingers curled so tightly around the bow he was worried he might snap it. But when she only gave him a confident nod in return, stepping aside and giving him full access to the tree she had been using as target practice, Neteyam felt himself beginning to relent, wanting to give in to her wishes, even if they were small.

After all, Neteyam certainly wouldn’t mind being able to test his skills after a few days of not using them, lest he wanted to look like a fool next time he was in a dire situation. By taking up her demands, Neteyam also got to stay true to his own desires and begin to mend whatever had broken between them, even if it were only a small first step. He knew, more than anything, that this was some sort of test being put on by the woman, but Neteyam wouldn’t have been himself if he didn’t try to ace it.

It also helped that the boy Neytiri was offering him was truly a work of art, something he could tell was of sentimental value to her, though he couldn’t remember for what reason.

“I guess…” Neteyam started, trailing off as he really considered his options. Still, even as he contemplated the aftermath of doing what Neytiri wished, he found his body subconsciously taking the offered arrow from Neytiri and nocking it into place. By the time he became aware of what he was doing, Neytiri already seemed to be aware of his decision, probably knowing from the start that he’d eventually give in to her. “I guess one attempt won’t hurt.”

“Good,” she hummed, stepping out of the way and taking up a spot slightly behind Neteyam, watching him and everything he did with practised precision. Neteyam tried not to pay her too much mind, repeating the same mantra he always went over before using a bow. Then, before Neteyam could even begin to take aim, she commanded, “Make sure you don’t miss.”

Despite himself, a huff tumbled out from Neteyam’s lips, his amusement shining through in the moments before he took aim. But like a switch, that all vanished as soon as Neteyam stretched out the bow in front of him, the weight of its past users coursing through him as he positioned it forward. Pulling the draw string back, Neteyam felt the tips of the arrows feather brush against his cheek, making a small adjustment as he did so that it was better lined up with where he wanted the arrow to fly.

Deep breath in. Steady the heart. Relax the mind. Soothe the worry from your muscles. Deep breath out.

He released the arrow. It sailed through the air. It hit its target.

With a thick whack, the arrow lodged itself in the bark of the tree, burying itself in deeply from the force that Neteyam used to maneuver it, far more used to shooting through the thick hides of animals than the thin bark of Awa’atlu’s trees. Still, it hit its invisible mark, making Neteyam stand a little bit taller as he turned to Neytiri, seeking her acknowledgment. 

Although Neytiri didn’t look directly at him, her eyes fixated on where the arrow was sticking out from the tree, she wore a proud smile on her face, a quirk of her lips that may have been small, but spoke volumes to him. 

The sight brought a smile of his own to Neteyam’s face, his tail flicking lightly behind him as he tried his best not to preen too obviously. Neytiri seemed to catch sight of his expression anyway, seeing through his facade as she shook her head slightly, feigning exasperation as she stepped forward, resting a satisfied hand on the back of Neteyam’s head, a few of his braids shifting because of it, before reaching a hand out, expecting. 

Neteyam stared at it for a short moment before remembering the bow that was still tightly clasped in his hands. Fumbling with it slightly, Neteyam was quick to hand it back to its rightful owner, almost embarrassed for clinging onto it for so long. 

To save himself, Neteyam made quick work of going to retrieve the arrow once Neytiri had taken the weapon into her own hands, taking a second to pull it from the tree where it had buried itself so deeply. 

By the time he returned, Neytiri was watching him with a newfound curiosity, her ears perked forward and her golden irises scanning as she searched Neteyam for any giveaway to a yet-to-be-asked question. The intensity of her stare made him falter slightly, his head bowing as if he had done something wrong again. But Neytiri didn’t let those thoughts fester for long, intent on getting to the bottom of what her son had been up to, and more importantly, what had been happening to him, while she was absent. 

“I assume you found yourself a place to stay while you’ve been hiding on the island,” she started, her voice neutral and calculated as to not give anything away. Despite already knowing where this conversation was headed, Neteyam felt himself grow nervous, not wanting to give anything away that wasn’t necessary. Neytiri continued, “since you weren’t equipped with anything when your father brought you in.”

“Yes,” Neteyam nodded once, confirming her suspicions. Licking his dry lips, Neteyam thought over his next words carefully, not wanting to give away Telisi’s hiding spot in case he ever had to flee to her. “There’s a spot further inland where Telisi and I had been staying. I left my weapons and supplies with her.”

“I thought your father and I trained you better than to not go anywhere without a weapon,” Neytiri’s head dipped slightly as she spoke, almost as if she were subtly scolding Neteyam without wanting to make it obvious, almost phrasing it as a gentle reminder as to how he messed up. Though, Neteyam was sure she was happy for the slip-up, allowing for Jake to get hold of him much easier and bring him in. Back to her. “You could’ve at least carried a blade with you.”

“I thought I did,” he huffed, his nose scrunching slightly as he was forcibly brought back to that night. He remembers it well, not that he thinks he’d be able to forget it, even if Eywa tried to steal his memories again. He most noticeably remembers Ti’ol from that day, unfortunately. Like how if it hadn’t been for him, Neteyam wouldn’t have been left weaponless, the Mangkwan warrior stealing his blade from right in front of him. Thinning his lips together, Neteyam tried to push the thought of Ti’ol away. He knew he should tell them about his presence in Awa’atlu sooner or later, but for now, that would just have to wait. He didn’t want to taint this one good moment with Neytiri, not yet.  “I must’ve used it for something and forgot to put it back in its sheath.”

“Hm,” she hummed, quietly accepting Neteyam’s words. He could see her turning them over in her head, and while Neteyam didn’t think she necessarily believed them, she didn’t push, allowing him the grace of that small lie since it had been partly the truth. Then, with a warm and already accomplished smile, Neytiri offered, “Would you like to go flying with me in the morning, before Norm arrives? It would be good to stretch our wings after being cooped up for so long.”

“Really?” Neteyam couldn’t help but ask, the word falling from his mouth in a gasp. When he sees Neytiri give him a small nod, her grin unwavering as she took in her amusement, Neteyam found himself copying the action, though his was filled with much more urgency and excitement. “I’d like that. I’d like that a lot, actually.”

“Good,” Neytiri murmured, more to herself as a signifier for what she had been able to achieve rather than Neteyam’s own ears. 

Then, out of nowhere, Neytiri began walking off, heading in the direction of the village again. Startled by the sudden departure, Neteyam watched her go for a second, stood frozen in his spot as he still clung to her singular arrow. 

For a moment, he just let her go, unsure if the woman wanted him to follow after her or not. But when he remembered that there were no guards in sight, leaving Neteyam all by himself on the outskirts of Awa’atlu, he quickly picked up his pace, hurrying after her. He was also sure that Neytiri wouldn’t have been too pleased if he had never given back her arrow, something he most certainly couldn’t be caught with if she wasn’t present, lest he wanted Tonowari to get involved.

Falling into step slightly behind Neytiri, Neteyam stayed silent as she led the way through Awa’atlu, taking him to a familiar section of the village that he vaguely remembers. Neither of them talked, though that wasn’t because there was a lack of things to say, but more because they were able to enjoy each other’s company without the constant need for chatter, letting the silence embrace them.

When they reached a marui that Neteyam had at one point been very accustomed to, now only briefly being familiar with what lay inside after his short time staying there, Neytiri confidently turned to Neteyam and handed him her bow before disappearing into its opening, the mauris cutrain pulled back so that its inhabitants had easy access to the structure, Neteyam assuming that it was frequented quite often. But since Neteyam wasn’t one of its regular visitors, he paused for a second, standing out front longer than he should have before cautiously following after Neytiri.

Stepping inside, it was exactly as Neteyam remembered it. The marui still had an organised array of mess scattered across it, still had Sky Person contraptions hidden away, and still had that warmth that coated the walls and made it feel loved and lived in. 

The only things that were missing were a small wooden chest that had been filled with Neteyam’s stuff and deposited in his and Ao’nung’s shared marui, and the bow that Neteyam now held in his hand, its mount near the wall being left painfully empty from where Neytiri had taken the weapon out for a bit of practice. 

Without needing to be told what to do, Neteyam began walking over to the wall where the mount was stationed, gently lifting and placing the bow in its decorated spot, his hand hovering there for a few seconds to make sure it wouldn’t fall. When he was assured nothing bad would happen to the prized possession under his watch, Neteyam set down the arrow with a small hoard of them that were sitting underneath the weapon, creating a small mountain of ammunition.

Taking a step back to admire the bow in all its glory, not being able to do so for the first time he had been in that marui because of the circumstances he had been rudely placed under, Neteyam’s eyes unintentionally strayed to the bow that was mounted next to it.

Immediately, Neteyam took notice of the singular arrow that was lying underneath it, his breath hitching when he realised it was his arrow. The one he had made before departing for Awa’atlu, built with the intent of being shot through one of the Sully’s necks. Instead, it had found itself buried in the gills of a fish, delivering a clean killing blow to what should’ve been Neteyam’s lunch, but was instead a giveaway to his presence in Awa’atlu as the Sully children stumbled upon it at the wrong time. 

Abandoning Neytiri’s bow in favour of taking an unsure step closer to the one next to it, Neteyam warily inspected it, almost as if he was scared that his eyes alone would somehow break it. 

Tracing over every groove of the bow with his eyes, Neteyam gaped at the patterns that had been carved into it, constructing an intricate design that Neteyam couldn’t help but marvel at. It was also impossible not to notice the different charms and trinkets that had been attached to the bow, probably making it not the most ideal weapon to navigate, but such a wonderful sight to take in. 

Reaching a tentative hand forward, Neteyam delicately picked it up, testing the weight of it in his hands, his fingers tactfully feeling the designs embedded in the weapon's wood for himself as he ran his hand along it, briefly flickering one of the tasselled ornaments at the end of it. 

Although Neteyam would never be so egotistical as to think that this bow belonged to him, not without reasonable doubt or a clearer indication than one of his arrows sitting below it, he couldn’t deny that it felt right to be holding it in his hands, almost as if it had been made just for him. From the way it curved to how it almost weighed nothing as he attentively held on to it, Neteyam would almost say it fit perfectly against him. 

With a newfound determination to uncover more, Neteyam turned around to hopefully ask Neytiri more about the bow, wanting to learn more about it just as she did him. Only, Neteyam didn’t come face to face with Neytiri. Instead, he’s met with the hopeful, but cautious, expression of one Jake Sully as he stood not too far away from Neteyam, clearly just having arrived. Behind him, sat near the opening of the mauri as she looked over the water, was Neytiri, slowly undoing her bandages, a few bowls of different herbs surrounding her.

Great. So he was stuck basically. 

Not having properly faced Jake since the big incident, Neteyam having done everything in his power since then to ignore the Avatar as much as possible, only communicating with him when it was deemed necessary, and earlier, when he decided that perhaps it was time to be civil, Neteyam was left feeling slightly blindsided.

Taking a stumbled step backwards as soon as Neteyam’s eyes had soaked enough of Jake in to know he wasn’t some sort of trick of the light or a memory, his ears folded back on instinct, tail wrapping around one of his thighs as his eyes immediately took to the floor, trying to stare at anything but Jake. His display was a clear attempt to make himself seem smaller, openly submitting to Jake and showing that he posed no threat. 

From this angle though, Neteyam couldn’t see the way Jake’s lips thinned together, put off by the demonstration as he took in the reduced sight of his son. 

If Jake hadn’t known how to approach Neteyam before, he sure as hell didn’t know how to handle him now. 

The sight of him alone was almost too much to bear, Jake having longed for days to wrap Neteyam in his arms again, even if it was just a guise as Neteyam struggled to break out of his hold and deal him some damage again. All he knew was that he wanted his Babyboy back, safe and comforted. 

But witnessing him like this, pushed to submit to Jake in fear that something might go wrong, using the bow he had grabbed almost as a shield, with no intention of using it properly, had Jake’s lips tugging down into a deep frown, reminding him that he had to tread carefully.

Flashing a quick glance over his shoulder at Neytiri for guidance, to which all he received was an encouraging nod, the woman refusing to step in and instead allowing Jake to figure this out on his own, Jake took a few hesitant steps forward, stopping only when he was right in front of Neteyam, with no awkward or stunned space left between them. 

Jake doesn’t dare touch Neteyam, knowing better than to push when the boy is already so on edge; instead, he crouched down until he was in a low kneeling position, signalling for Neteyam to do the same. Albeit a bit more cautiously than Jake, Neteyam followed after him, copying his position as he carefully depoisted himself on the ground, his eyes sceptically flashing up to Jake before hurriedly fixating themselves on a new spot slightly to Jake’s right.

Wordlessly reaching a hand out, Jake gestures for the bow, watching as Neteyam quickly hands the weapon over, almost as if he had been burned by it.

Cradling it in his own hands now, Jake mirrored Neteyam’s earlier actions, delicately running some of his fingers along the markings he had helped carve into the wood, remembering the hours he and a much smaller Neteyam had spent hunched over the weapon, the twelve-year-old boy giggling as he instructed Jake on what to do.

“This was the bow you got when you completed your Iknimaya,” Jake began, the bittersweet memory making his heart swell with pride at how brave his boy had been back then to go through his rites at such a young age, but subsequently making his stomach drop as he remembered the conditions under which Neteyam was forced to take them under. The Omatikaya were on the losing side of a war, and they needed more warriors. It pushed a lot of the teenagers of the clan to complete their rites sooner, though he had never expected Neteyam to be among them. “You made it from the remains of Hometree.”

“The remains?” Neteyam breathlessly asked, finally looking up at Jake with eyes filled to the brim with worry and deep aching, longing for something he had never been a part of. Or at least, something he couldn’t remember being a part of. “What happened to it?”

“It was destroyed by the Sky People only a year before your birth,” Jake explained, sparing him the details of the First Pandoran War. Now wasn’t the time for that, not when it would only burden Neteyam with what was raging across the waters, outside of their bubble of safety in Awa’atlu. “Even though you weren’t there to experience it, you wanted to carry a reminder of all that had been lost so it would push you to do better.”

Jake paused for a second, watching those words sink in as Neteyam dutifully listened, his eyes widening with an ushed sheen to them. Bringing his attention back to the bow in Jake’s hands, Neteyam stared at it with awoken eyes, taking it in for more than he previously thought it had been worth.

“You also wanted to constantly carry a piece of your family with you,” Jake continued once he believed the declaration wouldn’t scare Neteyam off, noticing the way Neteyam’s tail unfurled at his words. This time, when Neteyam raised his gaze to meet Jake’s, he didn’t immediately shy away; instead, meeting it head-on, a look of understanding that Jake had never seen before shone through, confirming for Jake that Neteyam knew exactly what family he was referring to. His family. The Sullys. “So you’d always know what you were fighting for.”

By now, the confession didn’t come as a surprise to Neteyam. The Sullys were his family, a fact he had begrudgingly come to accept. The more he heard it, though, the more real it seemed to be, solidifying that information within the very foundations of Neteyam’s being. At times, it almost felt as if the Sullys were doing it on purpose, trying to make sure Neteyam couldn’t forget the Na’vi who loved him for a second time.

Despite that, Neteyam couldn’t help but feel that he didn’t completely know who the Sullys were. Of course, he was aware of who they were on a surface level. Jake was Toruk Makto, and his father. Neytiri was a fierce warrior, and his mother. Lo’ak was a headstrong boy, and his younger brother. Kiri was a firm believer in Eywa, and his adopted younger sister. Spider was a Sky Person who had somehow found a way to weasel his way into their family. And Tuk was a sweet but mischievous girl who knew just how to get her way, and his youngest sister. But he didn’t know who they were. He couldn’t see them, not like this. So, he wanted to find out more, making him ask, “...Which ornament represents who?”

“The carvings represent you,” Jake began to explain, more than happy to indulge Neteyam and remind him of the history that this weapon held. “They represent your growth and how you’re the glue that keeps this family together. You connect us all, and without you, we fall apart.

Swallowing thickly as he heard those words, Neteyam couldn’t help but want to reach out and trace the carvings once more, committing them to memory this time so he’d always have a piece of what binds his family together. But as Jake spoke, Neteyam couldn’t help but consider his words with distaste, not even wanting to begin to consider what his absence meant for the Sullys and how it may have torn them apart. 

“The sharpened edges, similar to her own bow, represent your mother,” Jake continued without waiting for a response from Neteyam, bringing his hand up to softly glide over the thin blades that Neytiri had insisted be installed. “They act as a protective layer, making it so you’re never left defenceless, even if you’re out of arrows. Just like her, they’re unwavering and always there, ready to step in when you can’t.”

Hearing that, Neteyam briefly looked over to Neytiri for some sort of further confirmation, but instead of providing him with any dignified answer, Neytiri only nodded her head, confirming what Jake had said. While slightly helpful, at least affirming that there were no lies that had seeped into Jake’s words, it left Neteyam desiring more, only feeling as if he had been met with the beginning of a truth, with some of the darker reasonings behind why those blades had been fastened into his bow being left unsaid. 

“The leather band wrapped around the centre as a grip is for Lo’ak,” Jake moved on to the next item, leaving Neteyam grasping for more as he flexed his hand around the leather grip in question. Neteyam’s eyes naturally fixated on the movement, drinking it in as he forced himself to keep any questions at bay, saving them for a later and better time. “He has a matching one to this, only he wears it in his hair so his braids don’t get in his face. He used to complain that the two of you looked too alike when he wore his braids out, so he started wearing them up and forbade you from doing the same. You didn’t want to stop matching with Lo’ak though, so you turned the accessory into a grip for your bow, making it so you were always matching since you used to always carry your bow with you.”

Neteyam’s mind naturally wandered to Lo’ak in those moments while listening, easily remembering the hairtie he used to keep his hair out of his face, a few studded gems being nails into the leather. He thought it was cute that he and Lo’ak used to match, even if the other boy didn’t want to. It was almost like a symbol of their brotherhood, connecting them when they couldn’t be together.

“Then the embedded crystals are a symbol of both Kiri and your shared faith in Eywa,” Jake said, bringing up one of the girls Neteyam had spent the better part of the morning with. “The two of you used to pray quite regularly together. But as you got older, you had to focus more on your training and dealing with the Sky People. She found these as a substitute for you not being able to join her anymore, stating how if you're always carrying them with you, Eywa would be able to protect you.”

That explanation made Neteyam pause for a stagnant moment, still not one to accept Eywa into his life, even if the rest of his family did, and it was seen as socially acceptable to do among the Metkayina. At the end of the day, Eywa had still turned her back on him, only now he was confused as to why. He had no ties to the Mangkwan severing that connection, so he couldn’t even begin to imagine why the Great Mother would ever feel the need to cast him out.

Listening to Jake also talk about how Neteyam’s faith had once been an activity with Kiri made him regret snapping at her earlier that day, now knowing that she was just resorting to something that had once been safe between them. She most likely had no intent with her insistence on bringing up Eywa, only trying to figure out where she and the Great Mother now fit into this new version of Neteyam.

Damn it, he was such a bad brother, even when he was just simply trying to exist without facing the horrors of his past. He’d apologise to Kiri when he had the chance, and tell her that they could start regularly praying to Eywa again if that would make her happy. 

“Tuk’s marking, if you couldn’t guess, is the tassel here,” Jake continued to go down the list, lightly flicking the pompom-like accessory that dangled from the top of the bow. “She used to be so scared of weapons, knowing that they carried death with them. So instead of forcing her to grow out of that fear, you allowed her to try and make your bow a little less scary. I don’t think it worked much at the time, but she was just happy you were entertaining her ideas.”

Jake’s explanation of Tuk brought a small smile to his face, the corners of his lips twitching upwards as he watched the man mess around with the little decoration. That also definitely sounded like Tuk, Neteyam had to admit. Though he probably wouldn’t have guessed the girl had been afraid of weapons when she was smaller, it was a nice insight, allowing Neteyam to better equip himself in the future, especially when dealing with her. 

If he ever got the privilege to have weapons unsupervised again, he’d make sure to keep them out of sight from her.

“Spider picked out the colouring for it,” Jake said, finally getting to who Neteyam believed was the final family member, further confirming that he had somehow been roped into the Sully’s world. “He always said you needed something flashy since you were a mighty warrior. I guess to him that meant painting the ends of your bow blue, but it seemed to satisfy him. And you were just happy that you could include him in its design.”

Spider had a keen eye for design, that was for sure. His touch of paint to the wood definitely made it stand out, the weapon seeming even deadlier with the added touch. Perhaps Neteyam should pay more attention to that Sky Person, embracing him as one of his own instead of just a late addition to their squad. 

“And there’s Mo’at, your grandmother,” Jake continued, surprising Neteyam slightly as he wasn’t expecting anyone else to be explicitly talked about, not realising that there was anyone else to even talk about in the first place. “Although you can no longer see it, she blessed the bow, allowing the Vitraya Ramunong (Tree of Souls) to claim it momentarily so it could pass through Eywa’s eye and fallen warriors.”

Mo’at. His grandmother. She sounded strong, and not simply because she was related to Neytiri (or at least, Neteyam was guessing she was related to Neytiri, her name sounding far too Na’vi to be of Sky Person descent), but because of her spiritual connection. Neteyam could tell Kiri and her probably got on well. And by extension, since Jake had recently revealed to him that he was also quite spiritual back before they moved to Awa’atlu, Neteyam guesses he might’ve also had quite a good bond with her.

Going over each of those names in his head, cataloguing each of the different trinkets that were somehow attached to his bow, Neteyam came to the startling conclusion that Jake hadn’t mentioned anything that could be in correlation to him. And as Neteyam looked down at the weapon, he couldn’t help but notice there wasn’t anything else that could tie it to Jake.

But that couldn’t be right. Jake said there was something there for everyone. Neteyam was sure he wouldn’t purposely leave Jake out of that, not when Jake had done nothing but try to love him and make sure he got his memories back, even if his tactics were a bit questionable at times.

“What about you?” Neteyam found himself asking before Jake could move on, finding that to be the most important question right now, something that he needed to know. All his other questions could wait. He could wait to find out why his bow needed extra daggers attached to it, he could wait to find out why Lo’ak didn’t want to look like him, and he could wait to figure out who Mo’at was. He couldn’t wait to find out why Jake might not have been included in the bow's design. “You never said what part of my bow is for you.”

“I helped you make the bow,” Jake said, a small but proud grin making its way onto his face as he finally handed the weapon back to Neteyam, allowing for him to appreciate it in a new light as he subconsciously ran his hands along the different decorations attached to it, his attention still set on Jake though as he listened to what he had to say. “I was also the one who presented you to the clan as a warrior.”

“But I thought that was the Olo’eyktan and Tsahìk’s job,” Neteyam murmured, wondering if that was something strictly kept to the Mangkwan clan since he couldn’t see why Jake would be the one to announce such a thing. It was a great honour to become a fully fledged member of the clan, one that wasn’t taken lightly and was usually honoured in a way of celebration and time with the clan's Olo’eyktan or Tsahìk, sometimes even both if a clan had the two to offer. With furrowed brow muscles, Neteyam couldn’t help but ask as he turned that information over in his head, “Why would you have done that?”

“Because I was the Olo’eyktan of the Omatikaya before we moved,” Jake almost chuckled as he shared the news, silently enjoying the way Neteyam’s face lit up with shock, his jaw dropping, and the bow almost clambering to the ground as the news washed over him. “And your Grandmother was Tsahìk– is Tsahìk, while your mother was Tsakarem before she mated with me.”

“What?” Neteyam practically screeched, not believing the words that had just left Jake’s mouth. How on Pandora was Jake the Olo’eyktan of the Omatikaya when he had been a Sky Person first? More importantly, why on Pandora would the Sullys leave their home if Jake was the Olo’eyktan of the Omatikaya? What could’ve possibly made him give that up? Double-checking that Neteyam had heard Jake correctly, because he still had very little belief in his father’s words, he sceptically asked, “You were the Olo’eyktan of the Omatikaya?”

“Yes,” Jake mused, his amusement clear as day as he embraced Neteyam’s light antics. Perhaps Jake should’ve brought up being Olo’eyktan sooner if it got such a reaction out of Neteyam. Maybe it would’ve made their first few interactions easier, especially when Neteyam clearly respected the role of leadership, as seen through his efforts with Tonowari and Ronal. Just because he wanted to tease the younger boy, Jake mentioned, “And you were supposed to be my heir, but none of that matters now since we’re with the Metkayina. Though, I guess you’ve still clung on to the idea of being Olo’eyktan a bit when you look at your choice of mate.”

“Huh?” Neteyam yelled, rapidly blinking over at Jake as if to process what he had just said. Did he… did he just say he was attracted to Ao’nung because he wanted to be, or at least be close to, Olo’eyktan in the future? 

“Anyway,” Jake brushed that aside, grinning wider as Neteyam’s head quickly began to shake, trying to stop him from moving on to a new topic of discussion. What could Jake say? He just knew his Babyboy too well. If being overbearing wasn’t his specialty, it was definitely getting under his skin and bringing the boy’s attention to the crush he had on Tonowari’s kid (or even Tonowari himself sometimes). “That’s not what we’re here to talk about.”

“Wait, no,” Neteyam tried to cut in, not liking the way Jake was beginning to pull away, the older man’s eyes darting to something behind Neteyam, looking as if he wanted to reach out and grab it and start talking about that instead. It was probably something productive, if Neteyam had to assume, Jake wanting to get the conversation back on track, but he couldn’t let that stray comment go so easily. “Let’s not skip over that last part.”

“We can circle back to it,” Jake offered with a deep chuckle, shaking his head slightly at Neteyam’s antics. 

Before moving, Jake noticed the way Neteyam’s face had lit up with hues of purple splotches, coating his cheeks and ears as a furious blush took over his features. A few things could also be said about the way Neteyam’s tail fought between flickering restlessly behind him, almost smacking into Jake a few times, and the way he tried to curl around Neteyam’s leg again, clearly nervous. 

Shifting slightly, Jake leaned back to grab the stray arrow that had been sitting under Neteyam’s bow, its charm swinging through the air and catching Neteyam’s attention as Jake brought it over to him. 

Offering the arrow to Neteyam, he eyed it warily, unsure of what Jake wanted him to do with it. He doubted Jake would want Neteyam to shoot it like he had been with Neytiri, especially since they were inside their family marui, but other than that, Neteyam couldn’t think of what use the arrow might be to them. Not until Jake asks:

“You still add these charms to all of your arrows,” he more or less states, leaving no room for argument as he pointed towards the charm dangling in the air, Neteyam now refusing to touch that part of the arrow as he felt his stomach twist. “Why?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Neteyam instinctively said, going against Jake’s self-assured tone even when he had made it clear he wouldn’t accept such an answer. Neteyam didn’t know why he didn’t just tell Jake the truth, but he guessed it's kind of hard to explain something when you yourself don’t even know why you did it. The charms had just come naturally to him, the next step in crafting arrows when he and Azay had sat down one afternoon to make some. He couldn’t explain it, but if Jake demanded an answer out of him, like Neteyam was sure he was going to, he was sure he could guess one reason why they might be there. “I’ve never seen these charms in my life.”

“Don’t play dumb, Neteyam,” Jake immediately called him out, his thick brows pinching together as he lightly reprehended Neteyam. At the change of tone, Neteyam felt his ears fall back, pressing down against his skull as his head lowered, selling himself out as he became the perfect embodiment of guilt. “The kids collected this arrow from the stream. No one else in Awa’atlu, apart from us, even know how to use a bow and arrow. And if that wasn’t enough for you…”

Jake got up, trailing off as he walked over to one of his Sky Person compartments. Flipping the metal lid open and digging around in it briefly, Jake pulled out a second charm. He didn’t hold onto it for long, quickly turning and chucking it over to Neteyam, the younger boy naturally catching it before it could hit him in the face. 

“You shot this through my gun that day the Mangkwan attacked the Tlalim Clan,” Jake explained as he closed the lid of the storage unit before making his way back over to Neteyam. Taking up the same spot beside him, if not a little bit closer, Jake set his inescapable gaze on Neteyam, the boy bravely trying to meet it head-on instead of hiding away and fiddling with the charms. “And don’t try to say it wasn’t you, because I saw you, Son. I know it was you.”

The thing was, if Neteyam hadn’t already made it clear, he wasn’t lying. Although, of course, he did know what Jake was talking about, Neteyam wasn’t privy to the actual reasoning behind creating the charms, only remembering the exact steps it took to make them, since it seemed to be embedded into his muscles. 

As Neteyam had also said though, it wasn’t hard to guess why he had first started making the charms and attaching them directly under the arrowhead. The reasoning behind the carvings, however… he was nonethewiser.

With a heavy sigh, Neteyam gave in to Jake’s wishes and spouted the first clear idea that came to mind, “The charms alter the path of the arrow.”

“Why?” Jake demanded.

“Because the extra weighting throws off the arrow's balance,” Neteyam supplied. But really, that was just common knowledge. How he had even learnt to shoot with such a tricky weight distribution was beyond him, but it certainly worked out in his favour because no one else at Ash Village could figure out how to use the arrows, saving him from having them stolen. “If not shot correctly, it makes the arrow's flight path unpredictable and almost unusable to an untrained hunter.”

“And?” Jake tried to prompt him, searching for one more thing. Though, that thing wasn’t something Neteyam was aware of. “Why else?”

Shrugging his shoulders helplessly, Neteyam didn’t know what answer to give Jake. Even if the man hinted at what he wanted to hear, Neteyam doubted he could come up with anything else that would serve as a suitable answer for him. So, with downtuned lips, Neteyam muttered, “I’m not sure.”

For a silent moment, Jake does nothing more than observe Neteyam, taking in his reaction to see if he could deem it as genuine. When he did though, Jake let out a soft sigh, bringing one of his hands up and resting it on Neteyam’s shoulder, giving the skin there a comforting squeeze, as if to tell him it wasn’t his fault and that Jake was sorry for pushing. 

“It’s a mark of protection,” Jake eventually explained, using his free hand to turn over the charm still attached to Neteyam’s arrow so he could show off the small carving that Neteyam had drawn there. “It was designed so those who were shot would be guided to Eywa safely.”

Those words loomed in the air for a heavy minute, Neteyam’s mouth opening and closing a few times as he let the meaning behind them settle with him, ready to refute them even though he found no words forming to do so. As much as Neteyam didn’t want to, he could see himself partaking in the self-made ritual, especially when he reflected on all the stories that Jake and Ao’nung had told him about himself, the act seeming to be right up his alley. 

But even then, a small part of Neteyam almost didn’t want to believe those words. He knew it was just a last-ditch attempt to stay true to the Mangkwan clan, their claws so deeply rooted into his skin that he couldn’t easily wipe his existence of their presence. That didn’t mean Neteyam had to listen to that voice in the back of his head, its words sounding strangely like Varang as it attempted to pull him in deeper.

Sensing his struggle, Jake backed off from him, giving him space to turn over and digest the conversation they had just had as he moved over to Neytiri, helping her apply the last of her fresh bandages in silence.

Turning over the beads Jake had thrown his way earlier, Neteyam was going to do anything he could to silence that voice, even if it meant permanently shutting Varang out. For good.

But as Neteyam caught sight of the protection sigil that Jake had mentioned, that wasn’t the only thing that caught his eye. The two smaller beads that were strung together above it had a carving of their own. The first bead, a navy blue that seemed to match the colour of his skin, had the letter ‘N’ carved into it. While the second bead, teal in colour, reminding Neteyam of the Metkayina’s own skin, had an ‘A’ lodged into it. 

Feeling his breath hitch at the sight of the two letters, Neteyam felt more puzzle pieces slot together as another secret of his past was finally revealed, the beads linking straight back to Ao’nung from the first night the two of them had met. 

All of it made sense, and there was no denying that. 

Neteyam was home.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I've started planning a modern AU (rip Moana AU, you haven't been forgotten, you're just being put on hold until after the modern AU ig) and I'm actually so excited for it. I'm planning on trying to get the first chapter for it out early next month, but I'm not sure how fast the updates will be. I'll probably take it at a slower pace compared to this fic, but I also don't want it to be as long (I'm not going to try and go past 75k at the MOST for it). Update times for that will also depend on whether I'm still posting for this fic, since this one will be my priority and getting it done.

She half hoped that getting Neteyam out of bed wouldn’t be on her itinerary that morning, briefly praying to Eywa that by some luck the other boy was already up and getting himself ready for the day, but deep down she knew that was just as unlikely as her being allowed to go with the big kids when they stayed out late. It didn’t help that the sun had yet to fully rise, its shifting rays bleeding into the sky as it brought light to the world. Still, a girl could dream.

It seemed Eywa was telling her to keep dreaming, or at least wish for smaller deeds, though when she pushed back the mauris curtain and came face to face with Ao’nung instead of her dear older tsmukan (brother). 

Feeling her face drop into a pout as soon as she noticed Ao’nung dreamily looking over at Neteyam’s resting figure, the end of his tail twitching every time a sleepy grumble fell from Neteyam’s lips, Tuk felt her plan immediately get derailed, her arms climbing up to cross over her chest as she assessed what she should do next.

No matter what she did, Ao’nung would eventually take notice of her, and while that probably wasn’t a bad thing since Neteyam wasn’t necessarily allowed to go anywhere without supervision, something Tuk thought was really silly since her Sempu (Daddy) had always claimed Neteyam was the responsible one out of them, she still didn’t want Ao’nung involved with her morning plan. 

It was just supposed to be her, Neteyam, Kiri, and Tsireya. No other boys allowed. She had already had to fight Lo’ak and Spider off when she first told her parents about her plans, she didn’t also want to have to ward off the Metkayina boy. Besides, he always got Neteyam to himself when really it should be Tuk by his side, it was her turn now to have some much-needed fun with her big tsmukan (brother).

Maybe she could try to convince him that Lo’ak needed help with something, though she wasn’t sure if that was actually a very good idea since Ao’nung didn’t often seem that inclined to help the Omatikayan boy anyway. Perhaps her Sempu (Daddy) needed help then! If Ao’nung wanted to mate with Neteyam and join their family, then he’d have to get Jake’s blessing again, meaning he’d be working overtime to make Sempu happy. 

Yes, that could work! She might get in a little bit of trouble later on for lying, but it was all for the greater good. She got to spend time with her big tsmukan (brother) without Stinky Ao’nung there to steal Neteyam’s attention away from her.

As Tuk finally came to a decision, her silent internal debate stretching on in the silent marui, she seemed to cut her time going undetected in half as Ao’nung finally turned away from her brother, seemingly having soaked in enough of his relaxed face for what should’ve lasted him hours (but would’ve probably only ended up being five minutes knowing Ao’nung). Taking quick notice of the additional presence in the room, his brow muscle furrowed forward at the sight of Tuk, a few questions raised in his head. In a hushed whisper, not wanting to stir the still sleeping boy, he tentatively asked, “What are you doing here, Little Fish?”

“I’m here to get Teyam,” she cheerfully responded, bright-eyed and completely unbothered by the fact none of this had been discussed prior to her arrival, just naturally expecting Neteyam to take one look at her and know that it was all already finalised. Besides, back when they lived in the forest, they’d do this all the time. Going on adventures just the two of them, away from annoying siblings and the watchful eyes of their parents.  “I’ve got a fun day planned for him.”

“Don’t you think it’s a little bit too early for him?” Ao’nung couldn’t help but ask though, getting in the way of Tuk’s plans like always. She had already had to compromise once that day, letting Kiri and Tsireya tag along even though she just wanted it to be her and Teyam, so she had no intentions of settling for less now that she was here. She didn’t even care that Ao’nung was only trying to look out for Neteyam, because at the end of the day, that was her job. Sully’s stick together. “He had a long day yesterday, it’ll probably be best if we let him rest.”

“Stop trying to keep him all for yourself, Ao’nung,” Tuk glared, fixing Ao’nung with her annoyed stare so he’d get the message and cower before her. Only, he didn’t seem to tremble where he sat, only shaking his head with an amused huff at her antics. When that didn’t seem to do the trick, Tuk was more than happy to take matters into her own hands, marching over to Neteyam with some newfound determination settling onto her features. “I want to spend time with my tsmukan (brother), and that’s what I’m going to do.”

“Tuk,” Ao’nung tried to warn, but he was too slow, Tuk already being halfway across the marui and peering down at her brother's sleeping frame as he snuggled into the fabric of his hammock, none the wiser to anything that was going on around him. Reaching a hand out to try and stop the girl, Ao’nung’s attempts were futile, her mind already set. “Wait—”

“Big tsmukan (brother)?” Tuk almost shyly whispered, her hand brushing against Neteyam’s shoulder as she shook it slightly. “It’s time to get up.”

For a brief moment, the sleeping boy seemed like he might wake, a low groan spilling from his lips as he uncurled slightly, almost seeming as if he were about to sit up, before he just buried his head deeper into the hammock, shifting his shoulder so Tuk would lose her hold on him. Allowing a moment to pass between the space to see if Neteyam would somehow wake up on his own, the girl feeling slightly disappointed when he, in fact, didn’t, Tuk knew she had to up the ante. 

“I really think you should let him sleep, Tuk,” Ao’nung cut in before she could do anything to aggravate the sleeping boy, not wanting to see that peaceful expression slip from his face. “You know how he is when he gets woken up.”

“I’m not Lo’ak though,” she mumbled as if that wasn’t already obvious, following in her sister's footsteps as she gave an exaggerated roll of her eyes that had her whole head spinning with the action. Perhaps she should spend some time with Neteyam, Ao’nung thought, that way she’d hopefully have some of his good manners rub off on her. Proudly, as if she had a protective layer that surrounded her and kept her exempt from Neteyan’s annoyance, she proclaimed, “He won’t get mad at me.”

As much as Ao’nung knew that statement was true, having seen the way Neteyam physically melts whenever Tuk’s around, that didn’t mean he thought this was a good idea, knowing he’d probably be the one left with Neteyam’s grumpy, albeit sleepy, attitude once she left. “Still, why don’t you just come back in an hour when he’s—”

“Teyam, wake up,” Tuk demanded, never giving Ao’nung the chance to finish his sentence, as she rocked the boy’s hammock, almost flipping it with how harshly she had pushed it. Even though Neteyam had already begun to stir, grumbling something unintelligible beneath his breath, words so jumbled that Tuk didn’t even think they were real, she didn’t stop her movements, not wanting to allow her brother the chance to slip back asleep, this time Ao’nung most likely succeeding in putting a stop to her actions. “We need to go have breakfast with Kiri and Tsireya so we can go and pick some flowers.”

“Five more minutes,” Neteyam groaned, getting his first real words of the day out. He seemed not to care even the slightest about how his hammock was shaking from side to side, the movement actually seeming to help lull him back to sleep as he curled onto his side. “Then I’ll get up.”

“No,” she exclaimed, her face flashing with horror as she watched Neteyam blink his eyes shut, ready to ignore her presence in favour of winning himself a few more comfortable minutes in bed. Not allowing herself to just stand around and watch as her brother ignored her, Tuk stilled the hammock and started climbing into it, not caring for the way she jostled Neteyam’s body or clambered over his limbs. She had one goal in mind, and she was going to make sure it was achieved. “You never get up when I give you extra time. You need to wake up now.”

“Tuk,” Neteyam gasped as he felt Tuk’s weight settle on his stomach, lurching forward as he sat up, an involuntary breath being pushed from his lungs. “What are you doing?”

“Making sure you don’t fall asleep again,” she unhelpfully supplied, a bit too gleeful for how much of a nuisance she was currently being. Fixing himself so he was sitting upright, Neteyam was barely given a second to get comfortable before Tuk was making herself at home in his lap, her feet dangling over the side of the hammock as she kicked them back and forth. “Come on, Teyam. We’re going to be late if you don’t get up soon.”

“Late for what?” Neteyam tiredly grumbled, slumping forward slightly as he wrapped his arms around Tuk and set his head on top of hers, allowing his eyes to slip shut as he rested there. He found that position almost comfortable enough to fall back asleep in, having learned how to get used to less-than-ideal sleeping arrangements quickly upon arriving in Awa’atlu. 

“I already told you,” Tuk huffed, pushing herself from Neteyam’s arms as she felt him relax. Touching her feet down on the woven flooring of their mauri, she quickly spun around and grabbed hold of Neteyam’s hand, yanking it forward in an attempt to pull him to his feet. “We’re having breakfast and getting ready with Kiri and Tsireya before we go looking for some pretty flowers.”

“Maybe just give him a second to properly wake up, ” Ao’nung cut it, watching the way Neteyam sluggishly allowed himself to be tugged around. “I don’t think he’s been up this early in a while, Little Fish.”

“No,” she quickly hissed, shooting the Metkayina a glare that told him it was time to stop talking.

“Hi, Ao’nung,” Neteyam yawned, beadily blinking over at him a few times while Tuk threw her little tantrum. He would’ve gone as far as to give the boy a small wave, but found his hands a bit preoccupied with Tuk hauling Neteyam haphazardly to his feet. If anything, Neteyam was being really generous with his treatment towards Tuk right now, catching him on a decent day as all he did to object was sluggishly trailing after her, putting up much more of a fight if it had been anyone else who tried to pull that stunt. 

“Hey, Yawne (Beloved),” Ao’nung called, getting up and following after the pair as Tuk marched them around the marui, searching for Neteyam’s basket of clothing so he could get ready for the day. For now, Tuk would allow his presence, but only because she wasn’t able to kick him out of his own marui. “How you feeling?”

“Tierd,” he muttered, half watching as Tuk finally dropped his hand and began digging around the woven basket, messing up the near order he had set it in as she pulled out different items, inspected them, and then dumped them back in when they weren’t to her liking. Feeling Ao’nung come up beside him, Neteyam let himself slump slightly into his side, resting his head on Ao’nung’s shoulder while simultaneously willing himself to wake up. “Like I should still be asleep right now.”

“You’ve slept long enough, tsmukan (brother),” Tuk tsked, shooting Neteyam a warning look over her shoulder to make sure he didn’t try to fall asleep again, looking awfully comfortable now that Ao’nung had wrapped his arms around him and was keeping him propped up straight. “We’ve got important things to do today.”

“Like picking flowers?” Neteyam asked, amused by how that somehow manifested as ‘important’ in Tuk’s mind. 

“Yes,” Tuk beamed, ecstatic that Neteyam was finally beginning to understand the urgency behind her movements. Neteyam didn’t share that eagerness though, only fixing Tuk with an unimpressed glower behind her back. “And getting dressed up really prettily with Kiri and Tsireya.”

Scrunching his nose at the vague new addition to their plan, Neteyam couldn’t help but regard Tuk with suspicion, already chalking her up to be a troublemaker after she had easily joked with him about sacrificing her brother and Ao’nung yesterday. He sure as hell hoped Tuk didn’t think he’d sit pretty and accept a makeover, already undergoing one not too long ago after he had woken from the induced sleep of his injury, his mother forcing him to get a better grip of himself. Cautiously, liking that idea less and less, he asked her, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ll find out soon, Teyam,” she unhelpfully mused, finally pulling out a loincloth that was to her liking and shoving it into Neteyam’s hands so he could get changed out of his old one and come with her. When he made no immediate move to bend to her whims though, Tuk felt her eyes widen, not understanding why her big tsmukan (brother) was still standing around with Ao’nung. In a high-pitched whine, she begged, “Pleaseeee?”

“I don’t know, Tuk Tuk,” Neteyam shook his head, making a show of contemplating Tuk’s plans for the day as his lips exaggeratedly thinned together and his head ticked from side to side. “I think Ao’nung and I were going to—”

“No,” she blared, voice picking up into a screech as the look of shock on her face morphed into one of annoyance, glaring at Ao’nung for half a second, almost looking like she was going to reach out and kick him, before glancing at Neteyam with innocent and hopeful eyes. In a voice kinder than the words she was saying, Tuk explained, “Stinky Ao’nung doesn’t get to have you today. He can wait until the feast later if he’s that desperate.”

“Hey, wait now,” Ao’nung huffed, the thumb he had drawing small circles into Neteyam’s hip stilling as he caught wind of the unnecessary jab thrown his way. Honestly, he’d have to have a word with the Sullys soon about how they kept randomly using him as the butt of their jokes. “Am I not allowed to come to your little play date?”

“Ew, no, dummy,” Tuk gagged, hands shaking as if she were truly repulsed by the idea of that. “No boys allowed.”

“What am I then?” Neteyam mused, the corners of his lips quirking up into a small smile. He just couldn’t help it, not when Tuk was trying so hard just to spend time with him. “I thought I was your tsmukan (brother), not your tsmuke (sister)?”

“You are,” she rushed out, quickly trying to amend any miscommunication that had passed between them. As she scrambled over herself, Neteyam only settled further into Ao’nung’s side, getting an amused hum from the taller Metkayina boy as they watched Tuk splutter. “You just don’t count. ‘No boys’ means no Lo’ak, no Spider, and definitely no Ao’nung. Rotxo is okay though, he sometimes joins us too.”

“Will he be joining us today?” Neteyam asked, following up on her explanation. He wouldn’t mind it if Rotxo did end up joining them, taking a quick liking to him even though he hadn’t been too talkative whilst amongst Neteyam’s presence. Something told him that was just how Rotxo is though, and that he shouldn’t be offended by it. 

“No,” Tuk sighed, deflating a little at the admission. She had tried to get him on board, but he had already had plans to go hunting apparently, not being able to slack off as much since completing his rites and becoming an adult in the eyes of the village. Tuk didn’t even bother trying to explain that to Neteyam though, much more focused on getting him ready and out the door. “Now get dressed, I want to go. And take that necklace off too, we’ll find something else for you to wear when we get to Tsireya’s.”

“Fine,” Neteyam sighed, relenting and giving in to Tuk’s wishes as he unfurled from Ao’nung’s hold. “I guess I can come for some flower picking.”

“Yay,” Tuk cheered, throwing her arms up as she hadn’t expected Neteyam to agree so easily to her demand, his hand already reaching up to slip his Pxazang (Akula) tooth necklace off, handing it to Ao’nung for safekeeping. “You won’t regret it.”

“Let’s step outside, Little Fish, so that Neteyam can have some privacy while he gets changed,” Ao’nung offered, keeping the necklace with him as he settled a finned hand on Tuk’s back, lightly nudging her towards the maruis exit. “And while he does, why don’t you tell me more about how you’re going to my family’s marui, but I can’t come?”

“We’ve already been over this…” Tuk groaned, her voice getting fainter with each step until they were outside the mauri and beyond earshot.

As soon as he was sure the two of them were gone, Neteyam couldn’t help but break into a small fit of giggles, even as he started getting to work on untying his old loincloth and stepping into his new one. He just couldn’t help it, his drowsy brain finding the whole ordeal a laughing matter as he stumbled through the room trying to follow Tuk’s orders.

She really must’ve caught him on a good day, as he was sure if she had tried this stunt any other time, she wouldn’t have gotten nearly as far as she did, being booted from the mauri with a few nasty hisses and snarls to follow her out. Or, maybe, there was a small chance that Neteyam had let her get away with it solely because it was her yanking on his hand and shaking his hammock. Tuk with her gleeful eyes and joyous smile. If Ao’nung had tried the same thing, Neteyam knew he wouldn’t have been as lucky. 

He also, despite the coy smile on his face despite no one else being able to see him, couldn’t help but preen at Tuk’s insistence on spending the morning with him, going through whatever measures necessary to get him on board with her plan. 

From the second Tuk asked him to spend time with her, Neteyam always knew he was going to say yes to her. She could’ve asked to just sit in silence for hours while they stare at the wall, and Neteyam would’ve still agreed to her. It could’ve been any of them, Lo’ak, Kiri, Spider, and he would’ve said yes in a heartbeat, though he doubted he would’ve been as pleasant to deal with if it had been one of them who came to wake him up, not having the same appeal as Tuk with her cuteness.

Stepping out of the mauri once he was done getting ready, briefly trying to fix the mess that Tuk had made before leaving for the day, Neteyam spotted Ao’nung and Tuk stood a couple of steps away from their home, murmuring quiet words to one another while Neteyam’s guards, Kìnul and Yeta, again, still stood perched by the curtains, not having a reason to move from their spots until Neteyam had made an appearance. Making his way over to the pair, not sparing Kìnul or Yeta a glance as they shifted after him, Neteyam quickly joined the two.

“Ugh, finally,” Tuk groaned immediately upon seeing Neteyam, finishing whatever conversation she was having with Ao’nung in favour of putting all her attention on Neteyam. Reaching out and latching onto his hand, Tuk gave it a light tug, not wasting another second as she began leading the way to Ao’nung and Tsireya’s family mauri. “You took forever, Teyam.”

“I was only a few minutes,” Neteyam laughed, fondly shaking his head as he obediently followed after her, his guards doing the same as they fell into pace a few steps behind him.

Neteyam couldn’t help but notice the way Ao’nung walked with them, somehow scoring himself the right to at least accompany the two of them to their destination. If Neteyam had to guess, that probably was what the two were quietly talking about to one another, Ao’nung proudly winning their debate as he took up Neteyam’s side and fought the urge to grab onto his free hand, enclosing their fingers together like they had so many times in the past.

“Yeah, a few minutes too long,” Tuk huffed regardless of whatever excuse Neteyam could offer her. She had a strict day planned for them, one that they couldn’t afford to fall behind on. It’ll be fine though… maybe. Hopefully, Kiri and Tsireya had already started getting ready, allowing them to focus all their attention on Neteyam so they could get him nice and pretty for their special event that night.

Neteyam didn’t bother dignifying Tuk with a response after that, knowing that whatever he said, the girl would somehow have a rebuttal waiting on the tip of her tongue to fire his way. Instead, he took in the village again, not having yet spent a lot of time just walking through it. 

The early morning light brought a certain serenity to Awa’atlu, washing it in golden hues as the sun reflected off the water. The lack of Na’vi walking around yet also added to the appeal, creating a quiet atmosphere that no one threatened to disturb just yet. Of course, there were still a few Metkayina hunters out and about, already working tirelessly on bringing breakfast to the clan, their fresh catches being cooked and exuding a mouthwatering aroma. 

Like Neteyam had already said so many times about the village, it was nice. Every time he stepped out of his mauri, he found himself earning a newfound appreciation for Awa’atlu, making the place feel almost like home to him.

By the time they arrived at Ao’nung and Tsireya’s family mauri, Neteyam quickly noticed how much bigger it was than the one he and Ao’nung was sharing, though that probably had to do with both the fact he was technically still a prisoner here and how it belonged to the Olo’eyktan and Tsahìk. Its exterior was a similar colour to the orange hue that theirs was, and instead of a fabric curtain, this one had an array of stringed beads acting as their cover.

“Well, I guess this is where we part ways,” Ao’nung exasperatedly sighed, making a show of slumping his shoulders forward and lowering his ears, pulling a small giggle from Tuk as she watched the scene unfold. Looking around like he was lost, almost as if he didn’t know what to do with himself, Ao’nung played up the act to no end, trying to pull some remorse from the young girl. “Unless… you’d be so kind to reconsider, Little Fish?”

“Nope,” Tuk exclaimed, purposefully popping the ‘p’ as she gave Ao’nung an enthusiastic wave of her hand. “I’m not changing my mind. You’ll just have to wait until lunch time to see Neteyam again.”

“Worth a shot,” Ao’nung grunted, taking the rejection in stride. Turning away from Tuk, Ao’nung finally took Neteyam’s hand in his, even if it was only for a brief exchange. Running his thumb across the back of his hand, drawing small circles into it, Ao’nung missed, “I guess I’ll see you in a few hours when it’s lunchtime. Don’t let them rope you into anything stupid while I’m gone, okay?”

“I can handle myself, Ao’nung,” Neteyam scoffed lightly, though that didn’t do anything to deter the shy smile that was taking over his face. Neteyam couldn’t help it, not when he felt his chest warming and his face flushing at the boy’s concern, always there to look out for him even when he didn’t necessarily need it. He was, after all, from one of the deadliest clans on Pandora, he should be able to look after himself. Still, he couldn’t help but embrace Ao’nung’s care as he said, “But I’ll make sure to—”

“What’s taking you so long?” Tuk impatiently grouched, her little face twisted into the familiar expression of annoyance as her bright eyes flickered between Ao’nung and Neteyam, loudly urging them to hurry up so all her efforts that morning could finally pay off. “Just say ‘bye’ and let’s go. I’m getting hungry.”

“Right, sorry, Tuk,” Neteyam mumbled, his ears twitching downwards at the interruption. Turning back to Ao’nung, Neteyam forced a quick and polite smile, ready to cut this short. “I’ll see you later?”

“Of course,” Ao’nung murmured, giving Neteyam’s hand a reassuring squeeze before dropping it completely, ready to part ways and let him enjoy whatever plans Tuk had conjured up for him. Matching Neteyam’s smile with a steady one of his own, he uttered, “Bye, Yawne (Beloved).”

“Bye,” Neteyam let out, words almost a whisper as he looked up at Ao’nung through his lashes, almost nervous under his intense gaze. Despite Ao’nung’s sweet words to him, Neteyam couldn’t dare to bring himself to match them, letting a term of endearment die on his tongue, even if he had been wanting to call him by it for a while now. 

Before Neteyam could even think of saying anything else though, his farewell lacking the same elevated qualities that Ao’nung’s did, he could feel Tuk’s impatient hands grabbing onto his and tugging him towards the mauri, only allowing for him to helplessly look over his shoulder at Ao’nung as he was dragged away, the Metkayina letting out a soft laugh at the bewilderment on his face. 

“We’re here,” Tuk cheerfully shouted as she swept the beaded curtain out of the way and made their presence known to those inside the mauri. 

Eyes immediately landing on Kiri and Tsireya as the two girls sat across from each other, Tsireya absentmindedly braiding a strand of her hair while Kiri messed around with some paint, adding different ingredients to it until it reached a consistency that she liked, Neteyam noticed the way their attention was instantly drawn away from their tasks at hand, both lighting up with wide smiles at the sight of them.

“You made it,” Tsireya cheered, abandoning her braid as she quickly pushed herself up into a standing position, practically skipping over to Neteyam as she mirrored Tuk and grabbed a hold of him, dragging him deeper into the marui. “We were starting to think Tuk couldn’t wake you up.”

“Hey, don’t underestimate me,” Tuk whined, jutting out her bottom lip in a pout. “I have my ways.”

“Well, I’m here now,” Neteyam shrugged, looking a bit out of place as he awkwardly shuffled his feet, subtly taking in the room and any of its possible exits. The place was nice, definitely befitting of an Olo’eyktan and Tsahík, though it reminded Neteyam of how he probably shouldn’t have been there, even if Kìnul and Yeta were guarding the entrance. “Uh, Tuk said you guys wanted me to get ready with you… but there isn’t really anything else I need to do?”

“Nonsense,” Tsireya brushed him off, pointing at the ground where she had previously been sitting, gesturing for Neteyam to take her spot. Hurrying off to some corner of the mauri that must’ve belonged to her, she picked up a woven basket of a few trinkets, bringing it over and putting it in the centre of the small circle that was growing. “We need to get you ready for the feast.”

“Why?” Neteyam couldn’t help but ask, his brow muscle furrowing as he caught sight of the earrings, hairpieces, and bracelets that were inside. “It’s just a feast, and it’s not until later anyway.”

“It’s not ‘just a feast,’ Neteyam,” Kiri chuckled, speaking up for the first time since Neteyam had arrived. She wore a knowing look on her features as Neteyam peered over at her, seeming wise beyond her years as she regarded Neteyam with certainty. “It’s being held in your honour, so that Eywa can bless your healing when Norm arrives tomorrow.”

“Oh…” he felt himself trailing off, his ears instinctively pulling back and flattening against his head while his tail dully curled around his legs, stopping its restless flickering. Neteyam should’ve known there was some ulterior motive behind Tuk’s seemingly innocent invitation; Neteyam spending time with the Sullys was not enough to satiate their hunger. That simple confession from Kiri had Neteyam quickly second-guessing his place among them, his lips thinning together as he regretfully murmured, “Maybe I’ll skip the feast then. I don’t really need Eywa’s blessing.”

“What?” Kiri almost gasped, her face dropping as soon as Neteyam’s words rang in her ears. Instantly, Neteyam noticed the way recognition flashed across Kiri’s face, the two of them having this conversation far too many times for the both of their liking, the other not ready to back down and give in to the other’s beliefs (or lack thereof). “Neteyam, you have to come. Don’t turn your back on Eywa just because of what the Mangkwan have told you.”

“I’d rather not talk about this, Kiri,” Neteyam weakly tried, shaking his head as he turned away. Instead, he dejectedly looked down at the floor of the mauri, trying to take his mind off how blindsided he was feeling. “I’ve already told you Eywa has turned her back on me. I have no wish to extend my hand out to her again.”

“But she brought you back to us, Teyam,” Tuk tried to lighten the mood, excitedly peering up at him as she nestled into his side, trying to offer the boy as much comfort as she could in the side hug. “Please come to the feast. Sa’nu and Sempu (Mummy and Daddy) are so excited to spend time with you, and so are Lo’ak and Spider.”

“I don’t know, Tuk Tuk,” he sighed, offering her a tight-lipped smile that didn’t meet his eyes. He hated being the one who was letting her down, but this was something he wasn’t willing to compromise on. “Maybe another time.”

“Wait, Neteyam, I’m sorry,” Kiri rushed out, noticing the way he was shifting as if he were about to get up and leave. Although she knew the two of them couldn’t see eye to eye on this matter, despite how much she had insisted on trying to get through to him, Kiri knew what it felt like to be ignored by the Great Mother. In fact, Neteyam had been there right by her side as she struggled with Eywa’s negligence towards her, so she knew she was in no position to challenge the boy, even if it were all just an act to try and bring him back. “I’ve been too focused on pushing my faith onto you that I’ve stopped considering how that makes you feel. Please, don’t take this away from them because I’ve failed to accommodate the drastic changes that have been made to your life.”

Slowly looking up to soak Kiri and her words in, Neteyam paused, really taking a second to listen to what she had to say. He knew she wasn't doing it out of animosity towards him, but fear. Fear for a Na’vi that Neteyam didn’t know, fear for a brother who may not return. He could see the way her eyes shined with hope and worry whenever she looked at him, longing for someone who was no longer there anymore, and because of that, Neteyam couldn’t be mad. With a deep sigh, Neteyam finally relented, “…It’s not your fault.”

He knew, that at the end of the day, he was just a placeholder. None of the Sullys wanted him, they wanted their Neteyam, and he was the closest thing to him that they were going to get. It made sense that because of that, they constantly overlooked him, focusing on his old self rather than his new one. 

But Neteyam didn’t know if he could live like that.

If whatever plan they had to restore his memories failed, if they even got to enact that plan in the first place, Neteyam knew that they wouldn’t only be heartbroken, but loathsome. 

Despite not believing entirely what they were saying, in their eyes, Neteyam wore the skin of their brother; bore the face of their son. They wanted him to live up to whatever expectations they already had of him without a second to question it, treating him as if he were still the same Na’vi they had once known. They weren’t adapting, no matter how much they tried, they couldn’t get past the fact that he was no longer the same boy they had once known, and because of that, Neteyam couldn’t let them in. 

Tuk had been able to weasle her way in despite that, settling herself in Neteyam’s heart where he couldn’t get rid of her even if he tried. He should’ve known that would happen though, having a soft spot for the little girl ever since his eyes first landed on her back in the forest a little under a week ago. 

But with her, it was easy. Neteyam didn’t have to worry about being someone he’s not because she didn’t care about that, her only focus being on spending time with the boy before he slipped away again. She didn’t care for who he once was, probably because she couldn’t tell the difference, Neteyam not having the heart to correct her every time she referred to him as her brother. She only cared for what was in front of her, and for that, Neteyam could only be grateful, letting his guard down as much as possible.

Lo’ak and Spider, on the other hand, while more pleased than anything else to have Neteyam back in their lives, were at least a tiny bit aware of the fact that Neteyam was changed; that he was damaged now. He probably hasn’t had enough conversations with either of them to properly be making this judgment, but Neteyam almost couldn’t see a difference in the way they were treating him, or at least that was the case for Lo’ak, Spider never having appeared in one of his visions before.

While there was still an underlying gentleness to the way he handled his interactions with Neteyam, Lo’ak was the same as Neteyam remembered him. Still teasing, still making jabs at Ao’nung whenever his guard was down, and still overflowing with love for his big brother. 

Neteyam knew he shouldn’t have liked it, the double standards shining through as he praised Lo’ak for treating him that way, but shunned Jake and Neytiri whenever they tried to do the same thing, but he just couldn’t help it. If what they said was true, then Lo’ak was his Baby Bro, how could he not let him get away with these things? 

But then there came the treatment of Jake, Neytiri, and Kiri. While they still treated Neteyam like he was the same boy that they had once known, sugarcoating their words and acting as if he were fragile, they differed from Lo’ak in that regard because they also expected him to act in the same way, getting annoyed when Neteyam strayed from their ideal image of him. While Jake got huffy, going on about how he’d make everything right and how Neteyam just needed to trust him, Neytiri got angry, blaming the rest of Pandora for what had happened to him. Kiri, while she tried to keep her displeasure to herself, only speaking out when it was a matter regarding Eywa, got annoyed, going silent as she pondered what was wrong with him. 

They didn’t see him. They just saw an idea of him. 

With Ao’nung, it had been different. Sure, the only reason he hadn’t run in the other direction when he first saw Neteyam was because he recognised him despite all the paint and teeth, but he had also taken the time to get to know the new version of him. 

Maybe Neteyam faulted the Sullys too much for their lack of knowledge of him, never really giving them a fair go at getting to know him, but whenever he did try, he was just sourly reminded that he was no longer who they wanted him to be. And a small part of him hated that, wanting to be perfect in their eyes despite how much he pushed them out. Perhaps that was why he kept giving them more chances, allowing them to redeem themselves in his eyes, so he could do the same in theirs.

But with every misstep, every dirsy look as he leaned too far into his Mangkwan heritage, every wrong word that had them silently looking away as they were once again made aware of how wrong the boy in front of them was, only reminded Neteyam that they wanted him to fit into an outline that he no longer identified with, and he wasn’t going to do that. 

“But you need to understand that I’m not him,” Neteyam abrasively said, uncaring for how harsh his words may sound, as this was something the Sullys, and everyone else for that matter, had to hear. He didn’t mind staying in Awa’atlu, in fact, he enjoyed it, even if he had to put up with constantly being watched and confined to certain spaces, but if they all wanted him to stay that way, some changes had to be made. “Maybe there was a time when I was your brother, but that’s not who I am anymore. Sure, maybe I’ll get his memories back one day, but I’m still a different Na’vi because of the life I’ve lived since my accident.”

“I understand that,” Kiri quickly nodded, latching onto the chance to fix her earlier mistake. If she could do it differently, she would in a heartbeat, but instead, she was given a second opportunity to fix this, and that was one she wasn’t willing to waste. “And I’ll stop bringing up Eywa if that makes you happy, and I’ll be sure that I don’t forget that you’re different now. We just… all got really excited once we knew you were alive, and I guess I let the old version of you cloud this new one.”

“It’s okay,” he concluded after a couple of seconds, giving Kiri a satisfied nod that told her he had accepted her terms and wanted her to stay true to them. With a kinder smile this time, Neteyam shrinking back into his coy mannerism now that he had gotten that off his chest, he joked, “I guess we’re all learning how to live with this… new side of me.”

“So you’ll come to the feast tonight?” Tuk asked hopefully as she peered up at Neteyam, resting her chin on his bicep as she innocently blinked up at him. “I really wanted to see you in the pretty paint again.”

“What pretty paint?” Neteyam couldn’t help but ask, his nose scrunching slightly at the statement. 

“Your Mangkwan paint,” Tuk said, her eyes rolling as if the answer had been obvious. Despite her ease at the confession, Neteyam felt his mind go blank. There was no way that Tuk, of all Na’vi, found the traditional paints of his clan to be pretty. If anything, she should’ve found them scary, and if not that, at the very least creepy. They weren’t designed to be marvelled at, but instead strike fear into their victims. Tuk must’ve been mistaken if she thought they were pretty, especially on Neteyam. “But this time for the Metkayina.”

“Is that what that’s for?” Neteyam warily eyed the paint that Kiri had been making, waving his hand in a small circle at the bowl as he tried to ignore how put off her words made him feel.  

“Yes,” Tsireya confirmed, taking the small wooden bowl from in front of Kiri and offering it to Neteyam, allowing for him to get a proper look at it. She seemed excited to be finally talking about it, having waited all morning in anticipation once her mother gave her the delight of getting Neteyam ready for the event. “It’s tradition that the guest of honour be marked by specific sigils. But if you’re not comfortable with that, I’m sure we can make an exception.”

“It’s fine, I guess,” Neteyam shrugged, not really seeing the harm in it. As long as he ignored the fact that the markings she painted across his skin somehow had a link to Eywa, then it was all fine. More or less. “I mean, your family had been so kind as to let me stay in Awa’atlu so feely despite knowing who I am. Returning the favour by honouring your customs doesn’t sound that bad.”

“Perfect,” Tsireya almost squealed, shuffling closer to Neteyam so she could begin her work. Dipping her fingers into the warm liquid, she ran the white paint smoothly across Neteyam’s skin, starting to draw different patterns that he didn’t yet recognise. “Oh, and Tuk wanted to try and pick out some new accessories for you.”

“Did she now?” Neteyam softly mused, fixing Tuk with a teasing glare as she shuffled forward, already beginning to dig through the basket Tsireya had brought her once she got the go-ahead. “What’s wrong with my old accessories?”

“They’re freaky, Teyam,” Tuk pointed out, eyeing the diadem that still sat fastened to his head, the boy not forgetting to put it on before he left the marui that morning. As much as Neteyam liked his headpiece and had grown to love it, he couldn’t blame Tuk for that observation, knowing that the mere sight of it was supposed to be unsettling. The same could be said for the spikes he still wore in his kuru, though Neteyam didn’t have much of an opinion on those, finding them a bit annoying if anything, since they sometimes got caught on his surroundings. “And the ones Ao’nung gives you are boring. You deserve something pretty.”

“Hey, I like the ones Ao’nung gives me,” he mumbled, noticing a pattern of Tuk, and even Lo’ak, randomly dishing out digs at the Metkayina, even when he wasn’t there to defend himself. 

“That’s only because you have a crush on him,” Tuk hmphed, her voice a bit accusatory. Her face didn’t stay scrunched in that familiar irked twist for long though, her eyes brightening as soon as they landed on some sort of arm piece, Neteyam catching sight of the way it had small flowers dangling from it. Still, that didn’t stop Tuk from grunting out, “If he wasn’t, I’m sure you’d be just as mean to him as Lo’ak is.”

“She’s kind of right, Neteyam,” Kiri laughed before Neteyam even had a chance to defend himself, the girl slipping into Tuk’s old spot and settling close to him. She didn’t make contact, but her presence was loud enough to tell Neteyam that she just wanted to sit close; to be near and feel his warmth. “You would hardly look at him when we first arrived in Awa’atlu, but then he magically did something one day that had you head over heels for him.”

“When we first arrived in Awa’atlu?” Neteyam murmured, repeating Kiri’s words. Ao’nung had once mentioned Neteyam’s originally arrival in Awa’atlu before, though the circumstances it had been brought up in were as lighthearted as what Neteyam currently found himself sitting through. 

Still, he had brought it up to try and prove to Neteyam that he wasn’t a liar, not that Neteyam needed much convincing, begging him to keep it in mind and one day ask someone else to recall the events. Neteyam guessed he had forgotten about that moment until now, not really needing or having a reason to bring it up, no longer needing Ao’nung to prove himself to him. 

To ask now kind of felt like a betrayal on Ao’nung’s behalf. It would be as if declaring that he still didn’t trust the boy, even though he would blindly follow him anywhere. Still, Neteyam felt an insatiable desire to raise the question, urging him to get to the bottom of this, even if he didn’t care for an answer. Because at the end of the day, Neteyam knew Ao’nung wouldn’t lie to him. That didn’t stop him from taking one hesitant look around the circle at everyone’s faces and asking, “What was that like? What happened?”

“When we first got here?” Kiri questioned quizzically, not expecting the sudden change of conversation. But when she got a hurried nod from Neteyam, all his focus being placed on her even as Tsireya traced his neck with gentle fingers, she found herself thinking back to that day, remembering for the both of them. “Well, not many of the Na’vi here liked us, especially not the Tsahík. They didn’t think we’d be able to adapt to their ways because our bodies are built for the forest, not the sea. And when they found out we had demon blood, they flipped out.”

“Demon blood?” Neteyam confusedly asked, not understanding how a Na’vi could be a demon. The only demons that Pandora housed were the Sky People, their machinery plaguing the land and taking more than what they were owed. “What do you mean?”

“Sempu (Daddy) was a Sky Person once,” Tuk answered, looking proud of herself for remembering that fact as she showed a pair of earrings to Neteyam, getting a small shake of his head in return, not particularly liking the colour of them. “But then he fell in love with Sa’nu (Mummy) and became blue for her.”

“Is that why Lo’ak has an extra finger?” Neteyam found himself innocently asking, not meaning any offence by the question.

“I do as well,” Kiri nodded, holding up her paint-covered hands and showing them off to Neteyam, uncaring for the way his eyes curiously gazed over them. For a second, Neteyam fought the urge to reach out and clasp onto them, never seeing a pair so close despite his encounters with Lo’ak, his fight with Jake, and the time Lyle held him at gunpoint. Perhaps he was really losing his touch if he couldn’t even make these simple observations. “But I got that from my mother, not our parents.”

“What?” Neteyam breathed out, his brows furrowing. He thought Kiri was his sister, or at least, that’s the story that’s been repeatedly preached to him. But now, they have the same parents but a different mother…? Maybe that checked out Varang’s story after all. 

“I’m adopted,” she easily cut in to his thoughts, shrugging her shoulders as if it were no big deal. “I was born from my mother’s old uniltìrantokx (Avatar / Dreamwalker) body. It was… the will of Eywa.”

“But how come I don’t have an extra finger?” Neteyam asked, chancing a down at his own fingers. Then he looked over at Tuk’s and the way she was fiddling with some necklace, trying to see how it would look on herself. Counting the number of fingers on her hands, he noticed she also lacked an extra finger, making them appear as ‘true Na’vi,’ he supposed. “Or Tuk?”

“Both of you take after Mum,” Kiri explained, Neteyam needing no confirmation to realise she was talking about Neytiri. Having seen the three girls together in his visions a few times, normally including him getting teased in some way, he wasn’t hard to put it all together, especially after coming face to face with the woman again after their first encounter. “You especially, Neteyam. You look just like her. I guess Dad’s genes must’ve just manifested in Lo’ak more than you guys, it’s why he also has eyebrows while you don’t.”

“Huh…” Neteyam breathlessly let out, going quiet as he thought back to Neytiri’s features. He guessed they did share a few qualities, though Neteyam would’ve never have gone so far as to say the two of them looked alike. But that wasn’t important, or at least not now, when he could think over that later. What was important was getting to the bottom of Ao’nung’s story. “Anyway, what else happened? When we first got here? Specifically with Ao’nung.”

“Why does Ao’nung matter?” Tuk sneered, her dislike for the boy growing every time he cut in on her time with Neteyam, despite him not even being there.

“He just told me something, and I want to know if it was true,” Neteyam briefly explained, flashing Tuk a relaxed smile. In a quick attempt to try and appease the girl, much rather seeing a smile on her face than the current frown she wore, he pointed at a dainty bracelet she had been looking at, signalling for her to put it on him. “So?”

“Oh, I can tell you about Ao’nung,” Tsireya volunteered, housing an almost mischievous glint in her eyes before it quickly vanished, replaced by her overarching need to be helpful. “I remember it very clearly. He was so insufferable after that.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, ignoring the way Kiri huffed in amusement. 

“Well, I remember him pretending to be all stuck up when you guys first arrived,” Tsireya hummed, pausing her task of painting Neteyam’s skin, though she was mostly done by now thanks to Kiri’s help, in favour of remembering that day, her smile growing fond as she did. “He was a bit rude, following after our mother and making fun of your tails, but I don’t think he was able to take his eyes off you, Neteyam.”

“Really?” Neteyam murmured, focusing less on the part where Tsireya mentioned Ao’nung blatantly staring at him, and more on how she brought up his tail, Ao’nung also making reference to it when he retold his account.

“Mhm,” she cheekily hummed, thinking she was making her brother look like an even bigger fool than he already was. That was one of the only perks of Neteyam losing his memory, she thought, getting to retell all of Ao’nung’s most embarrassing moments since she had a fresh set of ears to talk to. “After we showed you the way to your new home, he started gushing about this look that you gave him, saying how there must’ve been a connection. But I think you were just annoyed with the way he was standing too close to you.”

“Then he was super annoying when they started giving us swimming lessons and were teaching us how to ride Ilu,” Tuk cut in, taking over the conversation. It seems that Neteyam’s feeble attempts to distract her with the bracelet didn’t do much, but he just guessed that was the type of relationship Tuk had with the Metkayina. “He’d always demand that he needed to teach you everything. And whenever I tried to tag along, he’d tell me to go away.”

“Is that why you didn’t let him join us today?” Neteyam found himself questioning, amused by just the idea of it.

“Yeah,” she huffed, exasperated by the obstacle that Ao’nung proved to be that morning. For a brief second, Neteyam wondered again what the two of them had been talking about while he was getting ready, doubting that it had been strictly about Ao’nung walking the two of them to their destination. “But also no boys allowed.”

“Except me and Rotxo?” Neteyam mused once he heard the familiar saying that had been brought up once again, his eyes narrowing teasingly as he checked in.

“Except you and Rotxo,” she confirmed with a bright grin.

“Oh, I hope it’s not a problem if I step in for a couple of minutes?” a familiar voice cut into the room, making Neteyam shoot up straight, causing Kiri to almost smudge his paint, as his eyes landed on the new figure that stood at the mauri’s entrance, a casual smile seeping onto his face as he made his presence known.

“Of course not, Mr Olo’eyktan Tonowari,” Tuk delightedly cheered, beaming over at the man as he stepped fully into the room now that he had her permission. “I’ll make sure to add you to the list.”

“Dad, what are you doing here?” Tsireya grit out before Tonowari had the chance to reply, the flicker of his tail giving away how he was amused by the whole ordeal. Neteyam, however, wasn’t as easily unaffected by the latest arrival, feeling his entire body grow still as he refused to make any form of eye contact with the man, not knowing what would become of him, especially when he remembered the way Ao’nung pointed out his crush on him. “I told you we’d be in here for the morning before we went off to the forest. You weren’t meant to come in until we were gone.”

“We haven’t had breakfast yet though,” Tuk whined, drawing attention to her and her grumbling circle as she stared expectingly at Tonowari and Tsireya, having been promised food when she agreed that she and Kiri could be involved in her playdate with Neteyam. “And I’m hungry.”