neteyam constant misser

01. show me, warrior — (23k wc) — series part 1

you are one of, if not the, fiercest huntresses of the omatikaya clan, skilled with your bow and arrow on the ground, but even more unparalleled on top of your ikran. for this, your being neteyam’s second during missions against the RDA is a no-brainer. everybody knows you’re the only one who can go toe to toe with him. he knows that, you know that.

02. always, paskalin — (24k wc) — series part 2

you and neteyam visited lo’ak in awa’atlu, but unexpectedly, what was supposedly a moon long vacation had to be extended indefinitely. along with enjoying the way of life in the reef, you also became a witness to the sky people’s increasingly cruel attacks and hunting of the tulkun.

03. he has the blood of warriors — (10.4k wc) — series part 3

what was supposedly a little harmless foraging in the forest made little naran just like mama and papa— a warrior.

04. exes don’t fuck, yawntu — (17.2k wc) — one shot

neteyam and you are exes... but neteyam refuses to be an ex.

05. he got everything from you — (2.4k wc) — one shot

neteyam and his little family in which his toddler son can hear his footsteps anywhere.

06. i will burn happily, baby — (25.1k wc) — one shot

you were sent to kill neteyam, the warrior you have repeatedly grappled with in your clan’s raids that he kept sabotaging. you are confident he won’t recognize you without your paint, but alas, he does!

07. taste of your lips — (13.7k) — one shot

you and neteyam have been fuck buddies for over a year now, existing in a bubble full of tension and secretive glances. he had imposed a rule of no kissing early on, claiming it would only complicate things— until a game of truth or dare was played... and apparently, he has no issue being kissed at all.

08. hopelessly devoted — (19.2k) — one shot

for twenty-two generations, your father’s family has guarded a sacred legacy: one woman will choose a life of solitude and remain unmated for life for the service of the great mother and the people. you decided it will be you now... except for one problem. neteyam. the boy who has looked at you with quiet and unwavering devotion since you were children.

09. where the act ends — (14.4k) — one shot

neteyam offered a proposition to the most quiet girl in the clan: pretend to be his intended to make another girl jealous... but a short time into it and the lines had blurred for him. not for you, though! you’re serious about the mission, much to his frustration.

10. taming the tides — (20.2k) — one shot

hardened by the grief of losing your mother and fueled by the rage you have for both the sky people and the sullys— who brought their war on your shores— you made it your mission to avoid them at all costs. unlike your siblings, you never softened up to them, and you loathed the fact that neteyam, their eldest, just wouldn’t stay out of your sight.

11. the song of hope — (15.7k) — one shot

you had long since given up on the illusions of the old songs... the ones that spoke of honorable warriors. you had seen firsthand just how cruel and evil they could be. but just as you were giving up, someone did come, and not only did he save you from the brutal life you had been dealt, he also gave you a chance to live again... and a chance to love.

12. let me earn you — (17.7k) — one shot

neteyam has always been the only boy who stirred your heart. as a man, he is everything you’ve ever wanted... and now that circumstances have finally drawn you closer, it feels like the perfect chance to make him see you. but with the looming war, the firstborn son of toruk makto has no room for distractions, and he won’t hesitate to push aside anyone who threatens his focus.

13. i’m here to stay — (16.8k) — one shot

a year ago, you made the painful choice to walk away from neteyam after he proved time and again that his duties to the war party came before you and his son. you knew he was only trying to be the dutiful soldier everyone expected him to be, and that he would have kept going that way... until your son unwittingly reminded his father of everything he was throwing away for the sake of duty and war.

From your peripheral vision, you could see Neteyam walking toward you two, but as soon as you’d freed him, Nevan immediately scrambled down, his little feet pattering furiously across the ground as he ran toward his father. Neteyam dropped to his knees, his massive arms catching the boy, lifting him high into the air, making Nevan let out a high-pitched, joyful screech.

You watched Neteyam press his forehead against his son’s, closing his eyes as a fierce, protective rumble vibrated in his chest. But even as he held the boy, his eyes flew up, looking past Nevan’s shoulder, his gaze locking onto yours with a look that is so heavy, suffocatingly dense with a longing so profound it felt like a physical weight in the air between you. It was the look of a starving man staring at a feast he wasn't allowed to touch.

His eyes traced the curve of your jaw and the softness of your features, desperate to find even just a sliver of hint that you’re feeling what he’s feeling. But you didn't give him one. Carefully, you looked away, focusing instead on your son’s little kicking legs and on the way Neteyam’s large hands held him safely. You chose to see him only as a father, completely shutting out the man who used to hold you the exact same way.

It hadn't always been like this. That was the cruelest part.

Your marriage hadn't been a political arrangement or a hasty union, it had been a lifetime in the making. Your parents were part of Jake and Neytiri’s inner circle since before the first war against the sky people. Through the many times your parents would bring you to visit the Omatikaya, you had witnessed Neteyam grow from a lanky boy into the man he is now.

And he had known you were for him since you were children. Neteyam was never one to waste time or play games, so he had always stake a claim on you, and the moment you both came of age, he courted you with a fierce, unwavering devotion that made even your parents sigh. You were sweethearts as teenagers, inseparable and fiercely protective of one another. When he mated with you before his and your people, his eyes had held nothing but a future filled with you.

And, your pregnancy had been a dream. Neteyam was a doting, almost ridiculously attentive husband. He would spend hours rubbing soothing oils on your aching back, pressing his ear to your growing belly to whisper stories of the forest and your childhood escapades to his unborn child. He never left your side. You had no doubt, not a single one, that you were the center of his universe.

Then, the sky people returned.

And the man you loved was swallowed whole by the war. Suddenly, he wasn't just Neteyam. He was the firstborn of the resistance leaders, the commander, and one of the unyielding pillars that kept the people from being completely overcome by the RDA. He began leaving before the first light of dawn and returning long after you and the baby had fallen asleep.

For over a year, you lived as a ghost in your own home. You sat alone in the dark, rocking a crying infant, praying to the Great Mother that the next body brought back on a stretcher wouldn’t be his. You begged him, you cried, you pleaded for just one evening. “Just for a day, Neteyam. Stay. Be with me, be with our son...”

But his face would harden, that stubborn, unyielding Jake-Sully look taking over. “I am doing this for our future, my love. If I do not fight, our children will have no world to inherit.”

And then it all just crumbled on your son’s first birthday.

It was a simple thing, really. You had spent days gathering sweet fruits, weaving small toys, hoping against hope that Neteyam would remember. You waited until midnight. When he finally walked into the kelku, covered in war paint and soot, he didn't even look at the small, untouched feast on the woven mat. He just muttered about a successful raid on an RDA supply train and collapsed into sleep.

He had completely forgotten.

And you were hit with the realization that the man you loved was dead, replaced by a warrior who had no room left in his heart for anything but strategy and casualties. You had cried all your tears by then. The well was dry. You were just so profoundly, deeply tired. So, you talked to him about going back home, citing the safety your clan’s territory could provide for you and Nevan to make him agree.

“Baby, this is your home now...” he had told you then, his arms tight around you as he fit his head in the crook of your neck.

“I know, Neteyam. But the explosion was too close yesterday. I am afraid for Nevan. This is not a place where he can safely run around and... be a child. I do not want to lose him, too...”

“Too?” he had asked, his hands maneuvering you so you’d face him but you didn’t budge. “Baby, you didn’t lose me—”

“All evidence to the contrary, Neteyam. I haven’t shared a meal with you in so long, you weren’t there when Nevan first laughed or when Nevan first uttered the word Papa, you weren’t there when he took his first steps. I am a ghost in this home. It would make no difference if we are away, because you had been acting like you had no family to come home to.”

His arms tightened around you, his nose burying in your neck. “It would make all the difference. I am coming home to my wife and child safe and sound, and that was my solace—”

You struggled to remove his arms around you, but his arms were iron tight. Your heart throbbed with pain but you couldn’t even cry. “So, then let me go home. Nevan and I will be completely safe there, if that’s what you truly care about.”

“I can’t be away from you, yawne, you’re practically asking me to stop breathing. I cannot not see you and Nevan—”

“When was the last time you’d seen your son, Neteyam? You leave before he wakes up and comes back long after he’d fallen asleep. I think you can, Neteyam, you can stand not seeing us. As I said, it would make no difference if we were here, or we were back home.”

That was that beginning of you leaving him to his war. He hadn’t known it would be a full-blown separation... But he had long before set that distance between himself and you. You’d just gotten the memo late.

“Watch, Mama! My big splash!”

Nevan’s high-pitched voice snapped you back to the present. You sat on a smooth, sun-warmed rock by the riverbank, your hand propped on the soft woven mat laid beautifully on the grass. Around you were various food, pies, and fruits Neteyam had prepared. You could barely eat it without your throat closing at the grief of this not being a permanent thing.

You’d told him Nevan wanted to celebrate his birthday here, that he misses Jake and Neytiri, and he promised you it would be different this time. You told him not to promise you anything, and just show it to his son. So far, he had kept his promise. He had cleared his entire day, which is probably an unthinkable feat for the commander of the resistance. He had brought a mountain of gifts for his boy. Beautifully carved wooden toys that he probably spent the past moons making, a small bow, and a woven arm band.

Now, he was knee-deep in the crystal-clear water, his loincloth soaked, laughing as Nevan furiously slapped the water, sending a pathetic little wave toward his father’s shins. Neteyam exaggerated his reaction, falling backward into the water with a loud splash, making Nevan howl with glee.

For a moment, the illusion was perfect. You looked like a little family. Neteyam would look up at you from the water, a soft, hopeful smile playing on his lips, trying to pull you into the warmth of the moment. You would smile back politely, a distant curve of your lips that never reached your eyes. You were here for Nevan. Only Nevan.

Nevan waddled out of the water, dripping wet, and proudly held up a crudely constructed object from the pack you brought from home. It was a woven sheath of colorful leaves, bound tightly with vines, holding a cluster of bright purple orchids. You shook your head with a smile as you fixed the pack, wiping the puddle of water he left behind.

“Look, Papa!” Nevan beamed, shoving the wet flowers directly into Neteyam’s face. “A flower sheath! Uncle Maytel taught me how... how to twist the vines. They don't break!”

You searched for a dry towel in your pack, smiling as you watched your son speak, his little body trembling in excitement.

“Uncle... Maytel?” Neteyam echoed. The playful, warm tone in his voice vanished instantly, replaced by a low, measured cadence.

You blinked, your eyes snapping to him. Suddenly, you had become aware of how ugly that sounded in the ears of people who didn’t know. You froze for a moment, the air in your lungs suddenly feeling like liquid lead as you watched Neteyam momentarily narrow his eyes, the look of a formidable hunter spotting a prey. Or a predator sensing blood might be the better description.

“Yes!” Nevan replied excitedly, entirely oblivious to the sudden, deadly shift in the atmosphere. He had just opened a cage containing a predator, and he thought he was playing with a puppy. “Uncle Maytel... He makes the best ones! He is Mama’s friend... They talk all the time. See... This is pretty. Right, Papa? Look at Mama's hair. See? I can make that, too, Papa. I will teach you!”

Nevan pointed a chubby finger at you. You had indeed used a beautiful hair decoration to pin back your hair in a half ponytail, letting the rest of your wavy locks flow loose behind you, having no idea at all how the sight of you earlier today literally stole the breath from Neteyam’s lungs. You are so beautiful, always have been, but it hits him particularly hard now that he doesn't see you as often.

He has never been used to being away from you for so long. This is probably the longest he has gone without you, such that every time he sees you now, his heart starts doing the thing it did when he first realized he loved you: flipping inside his chest and then melting into a puddle.

You kept your face as blank as stone, waiting for Neteyam to look at youjust as his son instructed. Neteyam was standing up now, but he wasn't looking at the decorations on your hair. He was staring directly at you, and the look he gave you almost choked the air right out of your throat. He didn’t look mad, it also wasn’t the detached look of a commander. It was that intensely familiar, deeply possessive, primal look he used to give you when another hunter talked to you for a second too long during his youth. His eyes darkened, his lips tightening into a straight line as his gaze finally dropped to the decorations in your hair before snapping back to your eyes immediately.

“Is that so, my boy?” Neteyam said softly, his voice dropping an octave, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Yes! He says Mama is... is very beautiful!” Nevan cheered, completely ruining any chance of a graceful exit.

So for the rest of the afternoon, you made it your absolute mission in life to never, ever be left alone with Neteyam.

When you returned to the camp, you practically shadowed Jake and Neytiri. When Neytiri pulled Nevan onto her lap to feed him sweet fruit, you sat right beside her, suddenly intensely interested in what she has to say. When Jake took Nevan to show him the ikran roost, you walked right behind them, using your son as a shield as Neteyam followed like a shadow.

He stayed a respectful distance though, answering his son's hundred questions about the beasts, even the imaginary ones, coming up with the perfect answers for it. For a moment, you were back to being a teenager, annoying the golden heir of Toruk Makto with your silly questions and having him answer you with complete seriousness, as though he really thought about your silly questions like they were points for further research.

His eyes were a constant, burning pressure on your skin the entire time, and every time you glanced up with a neutral expression, he was watching you. Eventually, the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in bruised purple. Neytiri, seeing how exhausted the toddler was, scooped Nevan up.

“He will sleep with us tonight,” Neytiri said softly, giving you a knowing, gentle look that made your stomach twist. She thought she was doing you a favor, giving you and Neteyam a night of privacy. “Go. Rest.”

“Oh, I can take him—” you started quickly, reaching for your son.

“No, no,” Jake chuckled, clapping a heavy hand on Neteyam’s shoulder. “Let his grandparents spoil him for one night. Go on.”

You stood there, watching Neytiri walked away, your son already fast asleep against her shoulder. Oh, boy. You watched the rest of the camp clear out as the rest of the people retreated to their homes. You didn’t turn to Neteyam, turning instead toward the guest tents, your pace brisk, but you didn't even make it halfway before a large hand gently but firmly gripped your forearm.

It wasn’t a harsh pull,  but his grip was unyielding. “Our home’s here,” he reminded you.

You glared at him through your lashes. “I haven’t forgotten,” you said in a clipped tone, walking straight into the shadows of your old home, and seeing that nothing much had changed, only that he’d put up photos on the wall.

And from where you were standing, you’ve seen one from his unilatron many years ago. With him painted in swirling marks of white and you, standing beside him with a huge smile. Another, at your mating ceremony, and another, a photo of you heavily pregnant. The last one was a photo of the three of you, with Nevan as a newborn, cradled in your arm, both of your faces adorned with brilliant smiles.

Grief seized your heart and you had to physical turn away from it, your hands balling into fist.

“You've been avoiding me all day,” Neteyam stated, standing between you and the flap entrance, his large frame casting a long shadow over you.

“I was spending time with our son's grandparents, Neteyam. It's his birthday,” you replied, keeping your voice entirely light and normal. You walked over to the sleeping mats, untying your travel pack and organizing your things with practiced nonchalance.

“Who is Maytel?”

The question was sharp and direct, like always. Neteyam had never liked beating around the bush. You took a deep breath, turning around with a calm, casual smile. “A childhood friend from my clan,” you said.

“A childhood friend,” Neteyam repeated, his voice low, a dangerous rumble vibrating in his throat. He took a slow step toward you, his tail twitching rhythmically behind him. “Never heard of him before.”

“I have many friends back home, Neteyam,” you said. “There was no reason to bring him up. He's just a friend. He helps at home, and he’s good with Nevan. My friends have all been a huge help to me since I moved back.”

Neteyam stopped just inches from you. He was so close you could smell the familiar mint-y scent of him. All your senses were melting. It knew the smell so well, had even associated it with home and safety, and it tore at your chest, a cruel reminder of the husband you had lost. He leaned down slightly, and though he didn’t touch you, you were forced to look into his heavy, shadowed eyes. The possessive fire in them hadn't died down, if anything, it was burning hotter, fueled by the agonizing restraint he was forcing upon himself.

“He makes ornaments for your hair,” Neteyam murmured, his eyes dropping to the flowers on your soft hair. His hand twitched, as if he wanted to reach out and rip it from your hair, but he kept his fist clenched at his side. “He talks to you all the time—”

“To help. All my friends help me, Neteyam, you’ve seen Laika and Nira helping me last time," you countered smoothly, your eyes locking onto his, refusing to back down. “I am a single mother raising a little boy. I needed all the help I can get. Nothing more.”

His head reared back a little as if you’d hit him. The words single mother hit him squarely like a slap and you saw the visible flinch in his jaw, the way his chest heaved as he swallowed the bitter taste of his own failures.

He stared at you for a long, suffocating moment. He knew you were telling the truth about Maytel being just a friend. He knows you, he knows the woman he married, he knows that you would never violate the bonds of marriage, even a broken one. But that didn't stop the sickening, agonizing jealousy from clawing at his throat. Another man was filling his space. Another man was teaching his son how to weave. Another man was making his wife smile.

“You are not single. I am still very much here,” he said.

“I don’t want to argue about what here actually means,” you replied, tearing your eyes away and removing the decorations on your hair to free it from its bounds.

He watched you, choosing not to press further, but as he stepped back, his eyes remained devastatingly heavy on you. “He is a friend,” he whispered, his voice thick with an unspoken, desperate plea. “But he is not my son’s father. And he is not your husband.”

As he uttered those words, the reality of his hypocrisy came crashing back down on him. Maytel, indeed, was not Nevan’s father, nor was he your husband... But could he honestly say he was both of those things to you and Nevan? He visited the two of you as much as he was capable, but that didn’t mean anything. He was an absent father, and an even more absent husband, and he wondered completely how his son still held excitement and affection for him instead of distance.

And how the boy knew everything he was doing for the people. He knew that, even in your current indifference, you had thoroughly made the boy understand that his father had sacrifices to make for the benefit of Eywa’eveng. He watched you lay down on the sleeping mat, pulling a woven blanket up to your shoulders and turning your back to him. He sat down on the opposite side of the yurt.

He wouldn’t lie down, and you had noticed he never did once the two of you were alone in a space. Whenever he visited back home, he would do the same thing, sitting down far away from you, his heavy, burning gaze fixed on your back, mourning a home he had lost to a war he was still fighting.

The morning arrived with a crisp chill you hadn't felt in so long. The altitude of the floating mountain made the sun feel unreal. You shared a meal with Neytiri and Jake. Your son, having already bathed, wore a new loincloth with fine weaving, and you put a hand over your mouth as you laughing at him proudly showing it to everyone.

“Grandma made this, Mama!” he told you, munching on a sweet fruit as his little body leaned into Neteyam.

Neteyam held his wrist gently, kissing the side of his head. “No sweet fruit yet without a real meal, little boy...” Neteyam mumbled, replacing the fruit with a bite-sized piece of meat.

“Okay, Papa... But Grandpa said I can eat? I don’t eat this at home... Right, Mama?“ Your son turned to you, now munching on the meat Neteyam had given him.

You smiled softly. “I try not to let him eat too many sweets unless necessary to regulate his body,” you explained. “But Papa is right, Nevan. You must eat your food first before the sweet fruit.”

Neteyam glanced at you, his soft eyes smiling even as he tried to look serious for Nevan who nodded without a fight, even picking some vegetables off his leaf and eating happily.

Neytiri smiled at you. “He is a good child, Y/N. You are doing such a great job with him,“ she said, her eyes a little misty.

You smiled, caressing your son’s head. “Neteyam is, too, Mother. Despite the grueling demands of the war, he makes sure to find time for Nevan,” you said. You couldn't possibly leave him out, not when you knew he was trying his best.

After the meal, the peace you were feeling had dissolved and was replaced by the reality that you had a hazardous flight ahead of you. Outside the yurt, the camp was already buzzing with the low, mechanical drone of the resistance. You stood beside your ikran, adjusting the heavy leather straps of the riding harness, checking every buckle with meticulous care. Nevan was already strapped securely to your body in his woven wrap. He was heavy, but his warmth was comforting, his little hands clutching a newly carved wooden ikran that Neteyam had given him.

A shadow fell over you and you didn't need to look up to know it was Neteyam. He double-checked your ikran’s saddle, his movements deliberate and sharp, before he checked the saddle of his own mount, preparing to take flight alongside you. You stopped tightening the cinch of your saddle, your hand resting flat against the leather. You swallowed the dryness in your throat and turned your head toward him.

“Neteyam,” you called out, your voice quiet but steady. He paused instantly, his ears twitching forward as he turned his head to look at you, his golden eyes wide and alert, catching every syllable. “I think... It wouldn’t be safe if you come with us.”

A subtle, pained stillness took over his features. His chest expanded with a sharp breath, his fingers tightening against his mount's reins. “The skies are not safe, yawne. The gunships have shifted their patrol grids closer to the western border. I am accompanying you home.”

“Neteyam, I would like that, too.” you said, stepping closer so your voice wouldn't carry to where Jake and Neytiri were standing a few paces away. You gestured faintly to the sky, then down to the boy against your chest. “But the tension with the sky people is worse this moon. They know your ikran, Neteyam. They know you. You are the commander of the vanguard; your presence draws the kind of attention I cannot risk when I have our son with me.“

The words seemed to render him weak. Neteyam looked at you with eyes so deeply pained, so utterly crushed, it felt like a blow to the chest. He looked down at his own hands, then at his son's chubby legs dangling from the wrap, as if he couldn't fully comprehend the reality that his very existence, the fierce, formidable identity he had built to protect his people, was now a liability to the safety of his own family.

Nevan, completely unaware of the reason of the heavy silence, looked up at his father with wide eyes. He held up his wooden toy, making a little whistling sound through his teeth. “He’ll fly with us, Papa!”

Neteyam’s heart tightened so visibly you could see the muscle in his jaw clench as he forced a small, strained smile for the boy. He reached out, his large thumb gently tracing Nevan’s round cheek, but his eyes kept flickering back to you, searching your expression for any sign of hesitation. There was none.

Behind him, Jake and Neytiri exchanged a quiet, heavy look. Jake stepped forward, his hand coming down firmly on his eldest son's shoulder.

“She’s right, son,” Jake said softly. “The RDA has scout ships tracking your specific signature. If they spot you flying with your wife and child, we don’t know what they could do.”

Neteyam’s shoulders sank, the breath leaving him in a low, defeated hiss. He knew the logic was flawless. He knew it was the right tactical decision. But the soldier in him was currently losing a brutal war against the husband and father who desperately wanted to prolong his hold on both of you.

“I will send two warriors,” Neteyam muttered, his voice thick as he stepped back from his mount. "They will fly low behind you, out of sight. They will ensure you reach home safely.”

You nodded. “Thank you,” you said softly, genuinely relieved.

Neteyam stepped closer to the side of your ikran, his large body aching to simply reach out, to wrap his iron-strong arms around both of you and never let go. He leaned in, pressing a tender, lingering kiss to the top of Nevan’s head, his eyes closing as he inhaled the scent of his son one last time.

As he began to pull away, Nevan’s small fingers suddenly shot out, grabbing Neteyam’s long braids with a stubborn, toddler grip. He yanked, preventing his father from moving back.

“Papa kiss Mama!” Nevan ordered with a bright, demanding grin, his tail swishing behind him in a mischievous flick. “Good bye!”

Neteyam froze, his head tilted downward by the boy's grip. Slowly, his eyes lifted from Nevan’s face to yours. They were completely stripped of the commander's armor, now earnest, dark, and filled with a raw longing that made your breath hitch in your throat. He waited, silently asking for permission.

You looked at his lips, then at the desperate hope in his eyes, and felt the old, stubborn walls in your chest crack just a fraction. Slowly, you tilted your chin up, offering your lips to him.

The tension in Neteyam’s shoulders died instantly. A soft, ragged sigh escaped his nose just before his large, warm hand came up to cup your neck, his thumb on your jaw. He leaned down and closed the distance. You were expecting a brief, polite kiss of departure, but you should have known by the way he held you that it wouldn’t be like that.

The moment his lips touched yours, he held you there with the fierce, unyielding eagerness of a man who had been starving for a year. His lips were warm, firm, and thoroughly possessive, parting slightly as he kissed you, reminding your body of exactly who he was to you. A sudden, stupid heat flared in your stomach, your pulse spiking as your lips instinctively softened against his, responding to the familiar, intoxicating rhythm of his kiss.

He groaned softly against your mouth, his thumb caressing your jaw, pulling you just a fraction closer, trying to collapse the entire year of separation into a breathless second. But a sharp, high-pitched giggle broke the air. Nevan was squirming between you, his small hands clapping.

The sound snapped you back to reality. You pulled away, your breath coming a little faster, your cheeks flushed dark with a sudden surge of heat. Neteyam’s hand lingered on your jaw for a second too long, a low, deep rumble of impatience vibrating in his chest at the interruption, his eyes dark and heavy as he stared at your parted lips.

“Fly safely, baby,” he whispered, his voice rough.

You couldn't even form words. You simply nodded, mounted your ikran, and took to the sky, your mind in an absolute daze as the wind rushed past your face.

The flight back home felt like a blur. Even after you had safely landed on the soft, mossy platforms of your home clan and unbuckled an exhausted Nevan from the wrap, your lips still felt strangely warm, tingling with the ghost of Neteyam's mouth.

“My bestest friend in the world! You are back!”

The cheerful voice of Maytel broke your reverie as he walked down the wooden ramp, followed closely by Laika and Nira. The three of them had been your lifeline this past moons, always ready to help with the daily chores and Nevan.

Maytel practically bounded over to you, his face painted with a mischievous, gossiping energy. He didn't even wait for you to greet them before he leaned in, his voice a conspiratorial whisper. “Tell me everything! How was the High Camp? My weekend went just as good! Do you remember that hunter from the clan nearby that I was eyeing? The one with the long arms? I swear, yesterday, we were together—”

“Maytel!” you hissed, your eyes widening significantly as you pointed them sharply down at your son who was rubbing his eyes but listening intently.

Nevan was an incredibly smart boy and his ears picked up on village gossip faster than a direhorse on the run.

Maytel immediately clamped his hands over his mouth, grinning apologetically. “Oh! Right. Hello there, little Neteyam. How was your visit to your Papa?”

Nevan’s ears instantly perked up, his fatigue temporarily forgotten as his eyes lit up with excitement. “We played a lot!” he chirped before holding his small arms out as wide as they could go. “Papa made big splash in the river! And gave me many toys! You’ll see, Uncle!”

Nevan eagerly held up the wooden ikran, bouncing on his heels as he babbled to Nira and Laika about the sweet fruits, the big mountain camp, and how his Grandpa let him touch a real ikran's snout. The three of them doted on him, laughing at his wild gestures until the boy's eyelids grew too heavy to fight.

You carried him down on his soft, woven cot, watching him with a doting smile as his tail curled peacefully. Even in sleep, his small forehead furrowed slightly in a way that looked identical to his father. It was a constant wonder to you how your boy could look so much like Neteyam, even with his soft baby features.

When you walked back out to the main platform, Maytel was sitting on a woven mat, repairing a fishing net. He looked up, a theatrical sigh escaping his lips.

“Now,” Maytel smirked, leaning forward on his elbows. “What happened with the dear husband?”

You rolled your eyes, sitting down across from him and pulling a basket of fibers towards you to clean. “Nothing.”

Maytel groaned loudly, tossing a piece of twine into the air. “I do not know how you could do it, syulang! How you can resist all of... that! The last time he came to visit you here, oh, I couldn't even come near the house even if I tried. The air was so heavy! He is so large... taller than all the men in our village! And so handsome, too... Ah, those thighs... One could only imagine the beast he has inside that loincloth—”

“Maytel!” you shouted, your face burning as a sudden, vivid image of Neteyam’s muscular frame hovering over you flashed unbidden into your mind. Your stomach did a treacherous little flip. Oh, indeed, it was a beast. You cleared your throat quickly, trying to suppress the heat in your neck. “Perhaps you should have visited when he was here. Just yesterday by the river, Nevan mentioned your name to him, and it sounded so terrible. Neteyam thought you were my boytoy.”

Maytel’s eyes widened to the size of stones, his hands dropping the net completely. “What?!”

You rolled your eyes at his dramatic reaction. “Yeah. I should introduce you sometime, just so he stops looking like he wants to hunt something down.”

A slow, terribly mischievous smile spread across Maytel’s face. His amber eyes danced with glee. “Was he jealous, syulang?”

You shrugged, trying to appear completely indifferent. “Neteyam has always been very possessive. It is just his nature.”

“Of course he is!” Maytel grinned, leaning in close, his voice dripping with dramatic flair. “The way that man looks at you... Oh, he looks like a predator completely ready to pounce! Only that you’ve put him inside a cage.” He shivered, rubbing his arms. “We should rattle the cage, syulang.”

Your eyes narrowed instantly into a dangerous glare. “What are you talking about?”

He smirked, waving a hand dismissively. “I mean, let’s see what happens if he keeps thinking I actually want you. You know? A little competition...'”

“No,” you said firmly, your voice dropping into a serious, unyielding tone that left no room for argument. “We will not play with my husband like that. He is currently in the vanguard, fighting a war for all of us. He has enough weight on his shoulders without us playing petty games with his mind.”

Maytel pouted, rolling his eyes as he picked his fishing net back up. “You are such a killjoy!”

When night finally came, the village fell into a quiet rhythm, the bioluminescent flora providing light in brilliant shades of cyan and deep magenta.

Inside your quiet hut, the small tablet you used for long-range communication emitted a low chime. Neteyam called almost every day when he wasn't able to visit, a routine he had stubbornly kept since the day you left.

You picked up the device, pressing the connect button and Neteyam’s face appeared on the small screen, the blue light of the monitor reflecting his sharp features, sitting in the dark of your yurt, looking exhausted.

“Papa!” Nevan’s voice cut through the quiet as the boy scrambled from his cot, his small hands immediately snatching the tablet from you.

You let him take it, stepping back. The memory of the kiss from this morning was still burning in your chest, and the ridiculous things Maytel had said earlier kept echoing in your mind. Hearing the deep, gravelly texture of Neteyam’s voice through the speaker seemed to tickle something deep within you, sending a slow, persistent heat crawling up your neck.

You watched from a distance as Nevan babbled to the screen, showing his father the toy again, telling him about the fish he saw in the river. Neteyam listened with an intensity that made your heart ache, his expression soft and full of a quiet, reverence for the boy.

“Go to sleep now, son,” Neteyam’s voice softened as Nevan yawned heavily, his little eyes fluttering shut as he rested his head against the mat, the tablet propped up beside him. “Good night, Nevan.”

“Night, Papa...” the boy murmured, completely out.

The screen shifted slightly as Neteyam adjusted his hold on his end. He knew you were still in the room. Even though he couldn't see you in the dim light of the hut, his voice dropped into a low, intimate frequency that felt like a warm hand sliding up your spine.

“Good night, my love,” he whispered into the quiet. “I love you so much.”

The line went dead with a soft beep.

You stood there in the dark for a long time, the silence of the room suddenly feeling incredibly loud. Your skin felt hypersensitive, your heart drumming a strange rhythm against your ribs as you carried the tablet back to the shelf and finally lay down on your own sleeping mat beside your son.

When sleep finally took you, it didn't bring the peaceful, dreamless rest.

It was a dream that seemed familiar to you. It was real... More like a memory haunting you. You were under a canopy in a forest that was so green and vibrantly alive. Your vision focused and you saw Neteyam in fromt of you. He looked so young, entirely devoid of the rigid exhaustion the war brought. He was grinning, a look that made your heart jump.

He had you pinned against the smooth bark of a giant root, his large hands mapping the curves of your body with a desperate fervor. You were both shivering, caught in the reckless, consuming heat of youthful desire. His fingers were knuckles-deep inside you, the slick, wet heat of you coating him as he moved frantically in and out, stretching you beyond relief. It was a tight, intense friction, but even in the haze of the dream, you found yourself thinking that it was a far gentler stretch than the thick, heavy length of his cock, which your hands were currently fisted around. You pumped him in tandem with his rhythm, his weight leaning heavily into you as a ragged groan escaped his throat.

“I missed you, my baby...” he mumbled against your skin, his lips trailing a path of burning kisses from your collarbone up to your jaw before crashing onto your mouth, tasting of pure adoration. His fingers moved faster, driving you closer and closer to a cliff you wanted to fall off of.

You let out a soft, breathless chuckle against his lips, your fingers tightening around his length. “Missed me? We are always together, ‘teyam...”

But the moment the words left your mouth, you watched his face fall, a profound sadness washing over his golden eyes. “Not really, no...” he whispered, his voice cracking with a vulnerability that made your chest ache. “You are so far away from me right now...”

Panic seized your heart, sharp and sudden like an arrow to the ribs. “What...?” you gasped, reaching for his face, but his image was already dissolving like smoke in the wind. “Neteyam—”

You woke up with a violent gasp, your eyes flying open to the quiet, dark interior of your hut.

Your heart was hammering a frantic, echoing rhythm against your ribs, and your breath came in ragged bursts. The cool night air swept over your bare skin. Between your thighs, the phantom ache of his fingers was still vividly there, a throbbing warmth that slowly turned cold as the reality settled in. You pressed the heels of your hands against your eyes, trying to force the image of his younger, unburdened smile back into the dark.

You missed him so much.

This wasn't the first time. You had dreamed of him many times in the past moons. But they were never dreams that hasn’t happened, they were always memories, beautifully cruel and vibrant, haunting you even in your sleep. Your dreams weren’t showing you what could be, it was torturing you with what used to be, a reminder that while you had successfully run away from the war, you had never truly managed to run away from him.

The lingering mix of heat and longing from the dream stayed with you for days, but lately, only the heat seemed to have stuck. And it’s annoying. You were glad you didn’t have to see him for the time being, because it often happens every time you see him. Fortunately, you somehow at least manage to overcome the trials and tribulations of being a woman who chose to separate from the man she loves so much.

By midday, you were sitting on the main platform of your hut, the basket of fibers in your lap serving as a distraction while Maytel sat cross-legged opposite you. He was at it again, his fingers weaving river-grass and glossy feather-like fibers into an intricate hair crown. It wasn't for you this time, because Maytel has always been the unofficial beautifier of the clan's young women, and right now, he was carefully crafting a piece for a girl from the lower terraces.

“I am telling you, syulang, he nearly fell out of his hammock when I walked past,” Maytel was wheezing, his tail thrashing with dramatic delight as he recounted his latest encounter with his long-armed hunter. “He tried to act so smooth, but the poor thing was blushing so hard his stripes almost turned purple!”

You let out a loud, genuine laugh, shaking your head as you tossed a cleaned fiber at him. “You are terrible, Maytel. Leave the poor man alone before you break his spirit entirely.”

“Never! A little torment keeps the blood pumping,” he grinned, his fingers flying through the weaving.

“Mama! Mama!”

Nevan’s high-pitched voice shattered the lighthearted bubble. You blinked, looking toward the main walkway, expecting to see Nira or Laika chasing after your hyperactive son.

Instead, your breath caught squarely in your throat.

Walking just a step behind Nevan, his massive frame practically shadowing over your son, was Neteyam.

He was in his full warrior gear, wearing his cummerbund, his chest knife sheat, and his heavy longbow strapped to his back, looking thoroughly prepared in case he gets attacked on his way here. He looked terrifyingly formidable, and a little out of place, too. Everyone in your clan knows of his reputation as a warrior leading the resistance with his parents, and they have always treated that as something to celebrate.

Your eyes snapped straight to his face after a quick sweep of his gear, your heart jumping to your throat at the sight of his eyes narrowed into slits. To anyone else, he just looked like the stoic, fierce commander of the Omatikaya, carrying himself with his usual rigid authority. But you? You had known him since you were children. You had held him in the dark. You knew every subtle twitch of his ears, every micro-expression of his jaw.

There's your angry man.

He was staring directly at Maytel, his eyes tracking the way Maytel was sitting so comfortably close to you, sizing up his competition with a cold, calculating precision.

“Oh, Great Mother,” Maytel muttered through entirely gritted teeth, his smile freezing in place as he deliberately kept his lips from moving. “Is this your view every day? If yes, how dare you leave him, syulang? If I had one of that at home, I would never think of this clan again.”

You threw Maytel a furious, warning glare. Those seem like the perfect digs, because this isn’t your view at all, you barely even see him. You also didn’t have one of that at home... Literally, because the man was rarely home. You stood up, looking at Neteyam with look of genuine confusion. Before Maytel could even speak again, Nevan reached the steps leading to the platform, throwing his little body against your legs before turning around and pointing proudly at his father.

“Papa surprised me at the ledge, Mama!”

Neteyam stepped onto the platform, the wood creaking slightly under his weight. Without a word, he bent down and effortlessly scooped Nevan up into one massive arm, propping the boy against his hip. His jaw was clenched so tightly a muscle jumped in his cheek as he looked down at you.

“Neteyam,” you said, your voice tilting up. “You... you weren't due to visit until next week. The patrol schedules on the tablet said you were in the western valleys... You should have sent word, I haven’t prepared anything.”

His brows raised slightly, his tail twitching in an agitated flick behind him. He adjusted his grip on Nevan, his voice dropping into a deep, gravelly tone. “A word to visit my wife and my son? Do I need that now, my love?”

You blinked, completely caught off guard by the sheer pettiness dripping from the commander of the Omatikaya vanguard. A tiny, involuntary rise twitched on your brows. “N...no, of course you don’t,” you stammered slightly, trying very hard to keep your face neutral. “But what brought you here? Are the people alright?”

“The people are perfectly fine,” he answered, his eyes darting back to Maytel who was currently staring up at him with wide, completely unbothered eyes. In fact, Maytel looked like he was watching a theatrical performance, his gaze tracking Neteyam’s shoulders and the broad sweep of his chest with shameless appreciation.

You pursed yourself to stop a chuckle from escaping you at the realization that Neteyam had absolutely no idea what Maytel's true self was. To Neteyam, this was simply the man who was staying way too long talking to you, helping you, and weaving flowers into your hair.

“Neteyam,” you cleared your throat, stepping between them to cut off Neteyam's death stare before he accidentally declared a one-man war on your village. “This is Maytel. The one Nevan was telling you about.”

Neteyam shifted Nevan to his other hip, his posture locking into an intensely rigid, formal stance. He looked down at Maytel as if he were interrogating a prisoner of war. “I see,” Neteyam rumbled, his voice dripping with an absurd amount of authority. “I hear you have been a great assistance to my family, Maytel. I couldn’t thank you enough.”

Maytel blinked, a slow, highly amused smirk tugging at his lips. He stood a full head shorter than Neteyam, but showing absolutely zero fear. Instead, he let his eyes lazily trail down Neteyam's torso, before going back up to his face.

“It is no trouble at all,” Maytel purred, his voice smooth. “Your wife is my absolute favorite person to spend my days with and little Nevan here is just a joy to watch grow. You can’t take your eyes off of kids these days, they grow up so fast!”

You gritted your teeth, widening your eyes at Maytel, and having him glance at you with that confident I-can-handle-this look.

Neteyam’s ears threatened to flatten against his head. His nostrils flared as he looked at Maytel, his jaw locking hard as he absorbed the thinly veiled barb about being an absent husband and father, but the aggressive tension in his shoulder dissolved as quickly as it came. In its place emerged the smooth grin of a boy you had grown up with. Neteyam has never been one to take a slight seriously.

“Is that right?” Neteyam asked, his grin widening into something effortlessly dangerous. He patted Nevan’s back, his tail flicking behind him in slow, rhythmic moves. “Well, I can’t blame you. My wife is an excellent company, and my boy is easily the best part of anyone's day. I appreciate you keeping them entertained while I was away.”

Your lips twisted at how easily Neteyam was able to ride over that wave. Meanwhile, Maytel glanced like you, his eyes communicating ooh, the man can bite and you rolled your eyes. Neteyam caught the way Maytel glanced at you and your dear friend immediately tore his eyes off.

His plan to rattle the cage? Forget that. Neteyam looked physically capable of tossing him off the platform like a sack of dried grass, and as much as he would love to support you to the ends of the world, with the way your husband was sizing him up like a tactical competition, he decided he valued his life. It was time for a very graceful, very immediate exit.

“Oh, don't mention it. Taking care of Y/N and Nevan is the least I can do to contribute to the war efforts... Since you are too busy in it," Maytel said. You closed your eyes, shaking your head with how that once again landed like another dig!

Fortunately, a voice called out to Maytel several yards away and you saw how relieved he looked to have an excuse to get out of here. Your ears perked up, too, ready to send him away so you can finally deal with your husband.

“Oh, as much as I would like to stay...” Maytel sighed, “I think I shall leave you three to your... family time.”

“Right. Thanks, Maytel...” You said, widening your eyes at him when he sneaked in another once-over on your husband’s body.

With a theatrical swish of his tail, Maytel sauntered down the wooden ramp. Neteyam didn’t break his stare from the walkway until Maytel’s silhouette vanished into the lower terraces, but the moment he was gone, Neteyam’s golden eyes snapped down to the corner of the platform. His gaze locked onto a bundle of fibers that Maytel had carelessly left behind, a habit born from being used to coming here whenever he pleased.

“He leaves his things here,” Neteyam muttered, his tone dropping into a low growl. “Like he knows he can just walk back here anytime he pleases.”

“Maytel is harmless, Neteyam... if you’d only open your eyes to see,” you told him.You couldn’t possibly tell him what Maytel really was for that wasn't your secret to share, so you felt conflicted. You didn’t want Neteyam to think you were just allowing random men into your home.

“He is my friend. He can come back. He helps here, so he’s here almost every day.”

You saw Neteyam’s jaw tighten at the words every day and you almost groaned out loud at how you seemed to be cursed with the exact same syndrome Maytel just had: pissing off Neteyam with your choice of words.

“But that is not the point,” you quickly followed, cutting off his impending tirade before he could even start. You stepped closer, looking at the sheer exhaustion hidden beneath his rigid posture. “What’s the reason for this sudden visit?”

Neteyam looked down at Nevan, who was currently occupied with chewing on one of his father’s arm bands. Slowly, deliberately, Neteyam set the boy down on the woven mat. “Will you go inside and play for a while, son? Papa needs to speak with Mama.”

“Okay!” Nevan chirped, completely oblivious to the tension between his parents.

Once the boy was out of sight, Neteyam turned to you. The rigid, unyielding commander of the Omatikaya resistance seemed to slowly fracture, his shoulders dropping. He didn't look like he was preparing to leave. In fact, he had unbuckled his heavy longbow, setting it carefully against the weapon rack by the door, a gesture of permanence that made your heart skip a beat.

“It’s not a visit,”  Neteyam said softly, his golden eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch. “I am staying.”

You blinked, a sudden wave of confusion washing over you. “What do you mean, you are staying? For how long? A week? Neteyam, the raids in the west—”

“I have handed the command of the western vanguard over to Lo'ak and Rey’to,” he interrupted, his voice steady. He took a step toward you, his large hand reaching out as if to touch you, before he caught himself and let it drop to his side. “I am staying here. With you. With our son. For as long as you are here. Even if it takes years.”

Your breath hitched. You stared at him, your mind frantically trying to process the words. The golden heir of Toruk Makto, the boy who had been groomed since birth to carry the weight of his people, the commander who had chosen the war over his own family... had walked away from the vanguard.

“What... What about the resistance?” you whispered.

“I left it,” he whispered, his eyes heavy on you, but for the first time in years, he looked so unburdened. “I don’t expect a pie for it, baby. I know I have a lot of things to make up for. To you, to Nevan, and to our family. There is nothing more important to me in this world but you—”

“Neteyam, y-you cannot do that. Your father, the people, they... need you. You are one of the pillars keeping the people from falling to the demons—”

“And who is keeping us from falling?” he uttered, his voice filled of a raw, desperate emotion breaking through his warrior’s facade. He stepped closer, completely invading your space, his familiar scent clouding your senses. “I spent the entire flight here realizing the hypocrisy of my own words. I told you that Maytel was not Nevan's father, and that he was not your husband... but Eywa help me, I haven't been either of those things to you in years.”

He looked at you with eyes so heavy with longing it made your throat close up with grief.

“My father told me that a leader makes sacrifices for the future,” Neteyam murmured, his hand finally defying the distance, his long, warm fingers gently cupping the side of your neck, his thumb resting against your jaw. “But if the future means I have to stand in an empty home, realizing that the woman I love, have loved my whole life, looks at me like a stranger... then the war has already taken everything worth fighting for. I am choosing you, and I didn’t think it could be that easy. Baby, I cannot lose you...”

You held his eyes as his words hung in the air, your throat working silently as your eyes mapped the familiar contours of his face. The rigid, hyper-vigilant set of his shoulders was still there, and perhaps it always will be there, but the desperate, raw vulnerability in his eyes sent an ache in your chest. The thumb on your jaw trembled just slightly, a rare display of fear from the Omatikaya’s most formidable young commander.

He was giving you everything you had spent a year aching for. He was giving up the vanguard. He was setting down his bow. He was choosing to be a husband and a father over being a war legend.

Yet, as you looked at the set of his jaw and the sharp knife strapped to his chest, a sudden grounded clarity washed over you. You couldn't help but peek past his shoulder toward the lower terraces where Maytel had just vanished. Your eyes narrowed as you stifled a knowing smile, cutting through the heavy emotional fog.

“You are a very foolish man, Neteyam,” you whispered, your voice dropping into a soft cadence that made his ears twitch in surprise. “You fly all the way across the forest, hand over your lifelong duty to your brother, and declare an end to your warrior days... and a significant part of it is because your son said something about some guy making hair decorations for me.”

Neteyam’s posture stiffened instantly. His nostrils flared, a faint, dark flush creeping beneath his cheeks. He tried to maintain his solemn, deeply romantic expression, but the telltale twitch of his ears betrayed him.

“That’s not—I did not leave the vanguard because of that,” he muttered with a defensive, stubborn scowl that reminded you of your son, melting away at your icy defenses.

“No?” You tilted your chin up, your eyes dancing with a quiet, knowing light. “You didn't look at Maytel like you wanted to feed him to your ikran? This wasn’t prompted by the thought that someone else was here, helping me with everything and teaching your son stuff while you were away in the trenches?”

Neteyam closed his eyes for a brief second, letting out a long, defeated hiss through his teeth. When he opened them again, the fierce commander was entirely gone, replaced by the intensely possessive, fiercely protective man you know very well.

He sighed. “I hate imagining and seeing him here... seeing another man's things in our space, knowing he gets to hear our son’s first morning words while I am decoding scout reports... I hate it, yawne. It made me realize that while I have been busy holding up the sky for everyone else, my own world was moving on without me. I am a warrior, yes. But I am your man long before I became one. I am Nevan's father. If I have to crawl to get your forgiveness, I will. Please, just do not tell me to leave.”

The sheer honesty of his words struck deep within your chest, like a lightning bolt cracking at the frost that had settled over your heart during the year of separation. You love him very much, and you knew he could easily get you back if he showed you how regretful he was, but you didn’t want to make it completely effortless for him.

You tilted your head before slowly moving away to let his hand drop from you. Neteyam’s fingers flexed against the empty air, a pained, searching look crossing his features as he watched you move a pace away.

“You can stay, Neteyam,” you said softly, your expression turning serious. “You can stay and be a father to our son. You have a lot of lost time to make up for.”

Neteyam’s chest expanded with a deep, profound breath of relief. You didn’t mention anything about how your relationship will go from here, but that only made a determined, unyielding fire lit up in his eyes. He will work hard to earn you, to replace the time he wasted letting you carry the burden of his absence alone with the reminder that he is still very much here, and that he will never leave again.

“I will earn it back,” he promised, his voice thick with emotion. “Every single day.”

And surprisingly, Neteyam kept his word with a relentless, quiet devotion that left no room for doubt.

For the first few weeks, you remained intentionally wary. You kept your distance. You expected the long-range communication tablet on the shelf to chime at any moment, expecting Jake’s stern voice or Neytiri’s desperate call to summon him back to the battlefield. You expected Neteyam to pace the platforms at night, staring longingly toward the mountains like a caged predator.

But the summons never came, and Neteyam never looked back.

While he still kept a strict routine of waking up before dawn to check his longbow and spending an hour on his tablet giving quiet, tactical advice to Lo'ak or coordinate defensive tactics with his father, the moment the sun broke over the mountains, he belonged entirely to his family.

Nevan, unlike you, required absolutely zero groveling. To your son, having his father home every day was a miracle straight from Eywa. The little boy practically attached himself to Neteyam’s hip from the moment he opened his eyes.

“Look, Mama! Papa taught me how to make the ikran call!” Nevan chirped one bright morning, running into the hut with his arms spread wide, letting out a surprisingly accurate, high-pitched screech that made you laugh.

Neteyam walked in right behind him, carrying a massive basket of freshly gathered jungle fruits and roots for pie. He had stripped off his heavy war gear weeks ago, now wearing only his daily clothes. His long braids were freely dancing, and his skin lacked the harsh black soot of the vanguard. He looked exactly like the boy from your dreams... unburdened and happy.

“He is an apt hunter, yawne,” Neteyam smiled, setting the heavy basket down near your cooking hearth. He paused, his golden eyes locking onto yours, admiring the way you look in the morning with that steady, intense warmth that always made your pulse quicken. “Though he still needs to work on his stealth. He gasps too much when he spots a prey.”

“I don’t, Papa!” Nevan protested, throwing his little body against Neteyam’s sturdy thigh. “I am silent like the wind! Right, Mama?”

You couldn't help the soft, genuine laugh that bubbled up from your throat. “I supposed you are, my little breeze. Now go wash your hands before breakfast.”

As Nevan scrambled toward the water basin, Neteyam stepped closer to you. He was never an impatient lover. Even when you two were younger, he had always made sure you were comfortable with the pace he was taking. It was actually you who was impatient, pushing him to his limits and challenging the rules he set for himself.

Now, he didn't exactly invade your space aggressively, but he came close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from his body. He reached into the basket and pulled out a single, perfectly bloomed night-glory flower, its petals glowing a vibrant, brilliant shade of blue. Without a word, he gently tucked the stem behind your ear, his knuckles brushing against your cheek just a second longer than necessary.

“Your son said this matches the pattern of your stripes,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly, meant only for your ears. “He seems to have memorized your patterns like I have when I was a boy... I think every part of me loves you, baby. That includes Nevan, because he’s a part of me.”

Your face burned a sudden, dark shade of violet. You batted his hand away with a playful, frustrated sigh, though your fingers instinctively came up to touch the cool petals. “Neteyam... You are supposed to be helping with breakfast, not picking flowers and uttering pick up lines like a flustered young hunter trying to win his intended mate.”

Neteyam’s lips curved into a slow, utterly devastating grin, the exact same cocky, confident smile that had stolen your heart when you were teenagers. “Who says I am not? I am courting you, yawne. I told you I would earn my way back.”

“You are ridiculous,” you muttered, turning back to the hearth to hide the massive smile breaking across your face.

As the moons bled into one another, Neteyam’s quiet crusade to win back your heart took on a life of its own. He stayed and showed no interest in going back at all, integrating himself so deeply into your daily life that the memories of your lonely year apart began to fade like mist under the scorching sun.

Every single day seemed like an adventure with Neteyam and Nevan always making sure you were at the center of it, but today, your son had miraculously stayed behind when Neteyam went out to hunt. Both of you shared a laugh at the fact that the boy was obviously having a lazy day.

Nevan was sitting cross-legged in front of you, his tiny tail curling in a calm concentration. You had a shallow clay bowl filled with crushed, vibrant purple berries between your knees, using the thick juice as a makeshift paint.

“Like this,” you murmured softly, dipping the tip of your finger into the dark juice. You gently pulled his small hand into yours, guiding his index finger into the bowl. “Gently, my boy. We do not want to drown the wood.”

Nevan let out a soft, eager chirp, his ears pinning back in focus as you helped him press his finger onto a flat piece of smooth wood. Together, you dragged his finger down, leaving a thick streak that was meant to represent the neck of a direhorse. The moment you lifted his hand, Nevan gasped, his golden eyes going wide as a bright, toothy smile split his face.

“Pretty, Mama! Look!" he squealed, his little tail swishing frantically against your thigh.

You couldn't help the soft chuckle that escaped your lips, leaning forward to press a sweet, lingering kiss right to the tip of his nose. “Aren’t you just Mama’s little artist?”

Nevan giggled, squirming happily against your legs before leaning his small head completely against your chest. He was getting bigger every day, but in moments like this, when he curled up against you and let out those tiny purring sounds, he was still just your little baby. You wrapped your arms securely around his small frame, resting your chin on the top of his head, gently rocking him side to side as you hummed a soft, ancient lullaby, your hands continuously working on the paint.

Unbeknownst to you, Neteyam was standing completely still in the threshold. He had just returned from his hunt, his muscles aching and his heart still filled with the adrenaline of it. He had been prepared to strip off his boundary gear and weapons, but the moment he stepped onto the platform and saw the two of you, the breath completely caught in his throat.

He couldn’t move, he couldn't possibly break the absolute sanctity of the scene before him. His eyes, usually so sharp and vigilant on the battlefield, softened until they were thick with a profound reverence. He watched the way your long hair fell over your shoulder, framing the gentle, fierce love on your face as you cradled his son. He watched how comfortably Nevan fit against your chest, completely protected from the harsh, violent world outside these walls.

He thought about all the days he missed, the quiet days you and Nevan spent together just like this, and a wave of emotion hit him squarely in the chest, so overwhelming and pure it made his throat tighten. Suddenly, his whole world shrank down to just this sight of you humming in the golden light, with his son safe in your arms, and a fierce, blinding clarity washed over him.

Nevan shifted, his little ear twitching as he caught the faint rustle of Neteyam’s movements. The boy's head snapped toward the entrance, his eyes lighting up. “Papa!”

You blinked, breaking out of your peaceful daze, and turned your head to see him just standing there.

Neteyam offered you a soft, utterly devastating smile, the last remnants of his exhaustion melting completely off his features. He stepped into the alcove, immediately welcomed by Nevan’s insistent chirping.

“Papa! Papa, look!” Nevan babbled, squirming in your grip so he could proudly point his purple-stained finger at the piece of wood. “Mama and me made... a pa'li! A big, big one! See the long neck? Like a real one? It eats through the big trees!”

Neteyam let out a low, rumbling chuckle before leaning back to press a kiss on Nevan’s head before his large hand came down to cup it, his thumb gently smoothing back the boy's twitching ear. “Wow, doesn’t this look fiercer than Agre, Mama? Papa has an own pa’li back in the forest... Mama and I loved going for a ride. One day soon, we’ll go see him,” he told Nevan, the little boy’s eyes perpetually twinkling. “Tell me more about this masterpiece.” Neteyam comfortably sat down near you.

“I— I... I didn't drown the wood!” Nevan continued eagerly, his hands gesturing wildly, completely unbothered by the purple juice drying on his skin. “Mama said do it gently. Like a hunter when you hunt the big yerik, Papa!”

As Nevan kept rambling, acting out the hunt with tiny, dramatic lunges of his hands, Neteyam’s gaze slowly drifted up from your son to meet yours. His hand slid from Nevan's head to rest against your jaw, his thumb caressing your cheekbone with a tender, heavy pressure. He was looking at you as if you had personally handed him the stars and the silence between you filled with a shared devotion for the beautiful, bubbly life you had created together.

You leaned into his palm, tilting your head up to press a soft kiss into the center of his hand. Neteyam’s smile widened, his heart hammering a heavy rhythm against his chest. You are his whole world. The little hands holding his braids right now holds his entire world. And he couldn’t believe he lost sight of that.

                                                         ₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

“Please come! The river is very big today, Mama!” Nevan pleaded one afternoon, tugging furiously at your hand while Neteyam stood by the doorway, holding a woven utility basket.

“I have to finish mending these, Nevan,” you replied gently, gesturing to the tangled fibers in your lap.

Before you could even protest further, Neteyam walked over and effortlessly scooped you up from the floor, basket and all, setting you firmly on your feet. He took the fibers from your hands and tossed it onto the shelf.

“These can wait,” Neteyam said, his golden eyes dancing with a mischievous spark. “The commander orders a family excursion to the falls. No exceptions.”

Your lips parted for a moment, curling into a smile of disbelief. “You cannot use your commander voice on me, Neteyam te Suli. I do not report to your vanguard.”

“No,” he whispered, leaning down so his warm breath brushed against the shell of your ear, sending a sudden, electric shiver straight down your spine. “You are the only one I report to.”

You rolled your eyes, still smiling as you let your shrieking son drag you out of the hut, but your eyes lingered on Neteyam as you walked past, glinting with a mischievous light he hasn’t seen in over a year, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared that he decided he had just conjured it.

At the river, you waded in the shallow waters, watching Neteyam teach Nevan how to float on his back, the air cool and misted with the spray of the waterfalls cascading down the upper terraces. Your son splashed his little feet wildly, creating cute splashes that made Neteyam chuckle.

“You need to calm down, son. Make your body light... Think you can remain unmoving for a few seconds?” Neteyam asked, and you watched your son look up at his father with twinkling eyes.

“I can! Watch, Mama!” Nevan said proudly.

Neteyam slipped his large hands under Nevan’s small back, gently lifting him until the boy lay flat on the water's surface. “Relax your shoulders, Nevan. Look up at the sky, not at your feet,” Neteyam instructed, his voice low and soothing.

Nevan stiffened at first, his tail twitching underwater, causing him to sink immediately with a loud gasp and a splash. Neteyam caught him instantly, pulling him up with a warm laugh.

“Again, son. You must trust the water... and Papa. I won’t let you go.”

It took a few more tries. On the second attempt, Nevan held his breath too hard and tipped sideways. On the third, a stray splash hit his nose, making him sneeze and sink. But by the fourth try, you saw a quiet determination take over your son’s eyes, much like the one you often see in Neteyam’s eyes, as he took a deep breath and relaxed his tiny frame, letting the river hold him. Neteyam slowly lowered his hands away. Nevan was floating all on his own, his ears twitching in delight.

“I'm doing it? Mama, look!” Nevan squealed, the sudden movement breaking his balance and sending him plunging back into the water.

Your eyes widened, but he surfaced sputtering and giggling, and you couldn't help but laugh, too. Neteyam caught him, knowing he couldn’t really swim on his own yet. You waded closer to them and Nevan reached for you, his little arms wrapping around your neck. Neteyam grinned at you, his large hand cradling his son’s head.

“Let’s see you do it again, boy,” you grinned at him and Nevan splashed his hand in the water excitedly. You laughed, peering up at Neteyam, “He’s like one of those Terran toys Norm used to show us before.”

He tilted his head, “Robots?”

You chuckled, “No? Those stuff with a string you pull... And then it does something,” you said, helping your son lay flat on the water.

“Pull string toy? That one that talks?” he asked, already laughing.

You nodded, laughing with him as you turned to your son who is now relaxing his little body and letting the water carry him. You slowly let go of him, allowing him to float on his on.

“Calm down, Nevan... Mama will do it, too,” you mumbled, slowly letting yourself fall backward into the cool water, perfectly buoyant.

Neteyam grinned, dropping down right beside Nevan, his long limbs stretching out effortlessly. The three of you drifted together in the shallow waters, staring up at the canopy. Nevan let out a bright, bubbling laugh at the ticklish sensation of the water rushing past his ears, and the sound was so infectious that you and Neteyam burst out laughing too, your voices echoing alongside the waterfalls

The river soon became the site for your family’s almost daily bondings.

Nevan learned to swim in no time, but you still cautioned him against going to the river to swim on his own. Your son might be bigger than average kids his age, but he was still only two, and you worried he would run off to the river unsupervised.

Nevan splashed wildly in the shallow pools divided by smooth stones from the body of the river, chasing after the tiny, bioluminescent fish that darted beneath the surface. You sat on a smooth rock at the edge, watching him with a soft, content smile as you prepared the food for lunch. Nearby, Neteyam moved through the water with a fluid grace that vividly reminded you of his younger self, when he worked so hard to master his stealth as a hunter.

He was a good hunter, and an even better warrior.

He had been so skilled back then that he was grouped with older, more experienced warriors because he always seemed to know what to do. His parents took pride in how he outdid Jake in everything at an even younger age; there was no doubt at all that he would make a great Olo’eyktan. He was the golden heir who had bent his back to the crushing weight of his people’s expectations, carrying it all without a word of complaint.

And he had exceeded all of it, right up until the day he decided to leave everything behind to show you that he’s choosing you.

The thought settled heavily in your chest. You love him so much. Not once, even during the bitterest moons of your separation when you felt hollowed out by his neglect, had you stopped loving him. You had loved him as a wide-eyed child visiting Hometree and chasing him through the roots, you had loved him as a fiercely protective teenager, and you loved him now, as a woman who had given him a son.

But as you watched him move with a breeze of a warrior he will always be, a sudden, sharp ache of guilt pierced your heart.

You had taken him away from what he spent his whole life preparing for.

You were supposed to love every piece of him, just as he loved everything about you. Yet, when the war demanded too much of the man you loved your whole life, you had given up on the warrior entirely. You had forced him into an ultimatum between his duty to the people and his duty to his heart.

This realization plagued your mind for the days that followed. You watched him closely, searching for any flicker of resentment, any lingering gaze toward the horizon where the sky people’s metal birds still flew. But you found nothing. He looked entirely settled, his focus anchored completely on you, on Nevan, and within the confines of your family's hut.

In fact, the only thing that seemed to break his hard-earned peace was the occasional appearance of Maytel.

By midday, you were back on the platform, organizing a fresh basket of weaving fibers. Nevan and Neteyam had just climbed the ramp, returning from a short trek to gather wild spices for your recipe.

Neteyam had barely stepped onto the wood before his golden eyes laser-focused on Maytel, who was currently standing across from you, chatting about the latest village gossip. Under normal circumstances, the sheer intensity of Neteyam’s possessive glare would have made you stifle a laugh. But because you’ve spent days with the weight of your thoughts about him made the humor fade.

Maytel giggled at you, “You never did tell me anything, syulang! It’s been moons! With the way your husband looks at you, I was thinking you’d be round with child but now, but, oh well! You’re too slow,” he rolled his eyes, handing you the small, securely wrapped clay dish.

“Shut up,” you whispered, watching Neteyam and Nevan approach.

“Uncle Maytel!” Nevan excitedly greeted, waving a hand and skipping excitedly.

“I brought over some berry pie I baked this morning. I know how much you like this, little boy.”

Nevan peered up at him happily, his eyes twinkling as his hands clasped. “Thank you, Uncle!”

“Thank you again, Maytel,”  you said smoothly.

Maytel straightened himsef up himself gracefully, his eyes darting toward Neteyam’s rigid frame. “Well, I must be off. I have a date with a certain long-armed hunter down by the shallow banks, and if I keep him waiting, he might snap another bow string out of pure despair.”

He gave you a dramatic wink, but Neteyam’s expression remained entirely hard, calculating, and intensely territorial. He stood frozen until Maytel’s silhouette finally disappeared down the main walkway.

“Mama! Look at the big leaf I found!” Nevan babbled, showing it to you.

You examined it with great curiosity, admiring its beautiful patterns. “The patterns looks like the canopy at Hometree, son,” you smiled at him.

“Wow...” Nevan looked down at his leaf with wonder before scrambling past his father’s legs and running into the hut to add the leaf among his toys.

With the platform suddenly empty, you stood up and crossed the small distance between you and your husband. For the first time since he had arrived moons ago, you stepped directly into his space, your hands coming to rest flat against the warm skin of his chest where you immediately felt the heavy thudding of his heart beneath your palms.

Before he could speak, you slid your hands up to his shoulders, tilted your chin up, and pulled him down into a deep, lingering kiss.

Neteyam froze, his breath catching sharply in his throat. He looked utterly stunned, his ears twitching back in absolute surprise before the instinctual hunger took over. His large hands came up to grip your waist, anchoring you against him as he kissed you back with a sudden, dark intensity that sent a wave of heat straight to your core.

When you finally pulled away, your lips were tingling, and his golden eyes had darkened with something different.

You let out a dramatic, teasing sigh, a faint smile breaking through the serious fog of your mind. “They always told me my husband possessed the keen eyes of a viperwolf... but it has been moons, my love, and you still haven't caught on.”

Neteyam blinked, his forehead furrowing in confusion. “What?”

You let out a soft giggle, your fingers tracing the strong line of his collarbone. “Maytel just said he has a date with his hunter, Neteyam. He is trying to get on with a man, not with your wife.”

A sudden, staggering silence fell over him, his mouth opening slightly, his ears lifting as the pieces finally clicked together. You chuckled as you watched the fearsome commander of the resistance suddenly looked incredibly flustered, a violet flush creeping along his neck.

“He... with a hunter?” Neteyam muttered, clearing his throat roughly.

“Yes,” you laughed softly, leaning your head against his chest. "There was never any reason for you to be jealous, ‘teyam. I never looked at another while I was away from you. How can I possibly ever replace you? Even when I was trying my hardest to act like I didn't care, I would never betray you like that.”

Neteyam’s gaze softened, his large hands smoothing down your back, pressing you closer to his warmth. “I know that, baby,” he whispered, his voice rough. “Not once did I ever doubt your faithfulness to me. It was... the men I did not trust. But... I suppose I should thank Maytel. Not just for watching over you and Nevan when I was too blind to be here, but because the mere threat of him made me straighten myself up.”

You smiled, looking at the scars on his chest. “Well... about that. Maytel was never a threat, you see. It is just... you left the vanguard for this. You left everything you worked hard for—”

“No,” Neteyam interrupted firmly, his forehead furrowing as he caught your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. “Do not think that. I did not leave the vanguard simply because I was jealous, I left because I was terrified of losing you completely. I have missed so much of our son’s life, yawne. I didn't even know how to make up for all the time I lost. I will carry the regret of that lost time for a very long time...”

A wave of emotion rose in your throat, making your lower lip tremble a little. “I was so hurt during those moons, Neteyam... but I wallowed so deeply in my own pain that I failed to see how hard you were struggling, too. You were keeping up with the two lives you were living, carrying the future of this world on your shoulders, and instead of being there to be the support you needed... I walked away. I left you alone, Neteyam—”

“Don't,” Neteyam commanded softly, his thumb sweeping across your cheek to cut off your words. “Don't you ever blame yourself, or think your choices were wrong. Baby, I wasn't keeping up with my lives. I was living fully as a warrior, entirely forgetting that I had a wife and a child who needed me to be a man, not just a leader. I was a terrible husband. I was a failure of a father. Do not deny that.”

He leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours, his breath shaky.

“Your decision to walk away did me a favor, baby. I was too blinded by my duty. Who knows what would have happened if you hadn't put me in my place early on, if I had kept believing that everything was perfect while you were breaking in the dark?”

You stared at him, your throat tight, unable to find an argument. Slowly, you wrapped your arms around his neck. “Then let us settle it,” you murmured. “We both made mistakes. I should have spoken to you clearly instead of expecting you to know exactly what you were doing wrong... And you should have remembered that the war isn't the only thing worth fighting for.”

He breathed a huff of relief. “I am so scared, baby... I cannot lose you. You are half of me,” he whispered.

“I forgive you, Neteyam...” you mumbled, pressing a soft kiss against his lips.

He was quick to shake his head, looking almost angered. “I don’t want you to forgive me. I will not accept that. I want to remember this moment in our lives when I have let you and our son down. I would sacrifice and leave behind everything just to make sure this won’t happen again.”

You smiled. “Then I supposed I shouldn’t ask for forgiveness, too, for my selfishness—”

“You are not selfish and I have nothing to forgive,” he countered fiercely. “You only wanted what’s good for you and for our son, I’m glad you made that your priority. Can you imagine what younger me would have thought of me now? He would beat me up, baby, I’m willing to bet...” he pressed his forehead against yours.

Both your hands came up to hold his jaw. “We are allowed to make mistakes, my love... Both of us are still learning. What’s important is that even with what was happening between us, we were still good parents to Nevan.”

He smiled, his eyes lighting up at the mention of his son. “He’s a very resilient boy, my love... It makes me even more guilty that he just... loves me very much despite my absence.”

Your brows furrowed a little even as you smiled softly. “I guess Nevan is just a reflection of my heart. He’s a part of me, too, and every part of me loves you very much,” you caressed his jaw, pressing a soft kiss in his lips.

“I love you more. I love you so much,” he whispered against your lips, before he delivered a harder, more desperate kiss. It was a release of all the months of unspoken grief, longing, and the lingering heat that had built up between you. Neteyam groaned deep in his throat, his grip on your waist tightening until your breaths mixed into one frantic rhythm.

“Oh, Great Mother!”

The loud, dramatic gasp broke the air, making you pull away from Neteyam in an instant, breathless and flushed, only to see Maytel standing at the edge of the platform, his eyes wide with a look of pure, devious glee. He had caught you both completely red-handed, and you could practically see the chaotic, mischievous gears turning in his head.

“I’m so sorry to interrupt this moment, syulang, Neteyam... Well, I forgot my weaving shuttle... Just coming back for it...” he carefully tiptoed before getting what he came here for. “Got it!”

Maytel sneaked a smirk at you, his tail swishing with absolute triumph. Before you could hiss at him, Nevan bounded out of the hut, his little ears perking up at the sound of Maytel's voice. “Uncle Maytel! You came back?”

“I did, little star,” Maytel grinned, kneeling down to Nevan’s level while deliberately keeping his eyes locked on your flustered expression. “In fact, I am on my way up to the upper terraces to visit your grandparents. Would you like to come with me and help me pick some wild ferns?”

“Yes!” Nevan answered way too quickly. “Mama, Papa, can I go?” Nevan squealed, bouncing on his heels as he looked up at you and Neteyam.

Neteyam, still entirely dazed by the intensity of the kiss and thoroughly eager to get you back into the privacy of the hut, patted his son's head, nodded wordlessly.

Maytel giggled. “And I guess you will stay there until tomorrow, little boy...” he threw you an incredibly wicked wink. You're welcome, his eyes screamed.

“Bye, Mama! Bye, Papa!” Nevan cheered, snatching Maytel’s hand and dragging him down the ramp.

You stood on the platform, your face burning a violent shade of purple, completely aware of the heavy, dark promise in Neteyam’s gaze as he slowly turned his massive body back toward you. The platform was entirely quiet, your son was snatched away by Maytel, and the commander seemed very ready to claim a year-worth of action from you.

You bit your lip as you sensed his body turn toward you, making the air feel heavier with the thick tension you know will have you inevitably under him before the day ends. You finally turned to him when he stepped forward, his shadow falling over you, his broad chest rising and falling in deep breaths, his eyes dark as he tracked the soft features of your face, the flush your collarbone, the swell of your breasts, and the curves of your waist down to your shapely thighs.

“See you inside?” you said in a small, seductive voice, stepping backward with your eyes locked onto his while you were retreating into the hut. Neteyam followed you like a predator stalking a familiar territory. He stopped at the edge of your sleeping alcove, his tall frame blocking out the fire from the hanging firepot, casting you entirely in his shadow.

With a slow, challenging smile, your hands came up to the knot of your top, holding his unblinking gaze as your fingers untied the cords, letting the feather-like fibers slip until it pooled at your feet.

You followed it by untying your loincloth behind you, shedding it off until you stood before him entirely bare, the soft dim light catching the gentle curves of your body. You knew exactly what you looked like to him. Completely vulnerable, yet entirely in control of his sanity.

Neteyam let out a low, ragged growl through his teeth, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the edge of the wooden partition. His chest expanded, his nostrils flaring as he took in the sight of you. You looked so innocent standing in the quiet of your home, yet the mischievous, heavy heat in your eyes was pure sin.

“Do you mean to torture me, baby?“ he rasped, his voice deep and rough as his hand grabbed his crotch to give his aching hard on a squeeze.

“Torture?” you echoed innocently. “Who says you can’t touch, warrior?”

He blinked, as if it took time before he realized what you said. He stepped into the alcove, his eyes never leaving you, his hand aggressively shedding his loincloth off, as he walked toward you. You opened your mouth to tease him, but before you could do that, his large hands were already on you, his grip firm as he lifted you effortlessly and pressed you back onto the soft furs of the sleeping mat.

You reached for your kuru behind you, biting your lip when his calloused hands parted your thighs with an authoritative, heavy pressure to fit himself between them. You relished the familiar weight of him on you, the warmth and heaviness of his cock grazing your thigh. “Hello,” you mumbled, smiling as you caught his kuru that he let fall over his shoulder.

He watched you darkly, his hand prompting your hands to connect your kurus together. You gasped as the burning intensity of his emotions that surged through you, enveloping your soul with a familiar warmth you’ve never felt in almost a year. You breathlessly pulled him down for a kiss and his mouth enveloped yours right away, swallowing your breaths, kissing you hard and desperately. His arm wrapped around your frame to pull you against him until your soft mounds were squished against his chest, his large hand cupping your jaw.

You kissed and kissed, and you were reminded with just how much you loved kissing him. When you two were younger, making out with each other had been your favorite thing to do. Every lovemaking starts with what seemed like hours of making out sessions, and this moment brought you back. You licked at his lower lip and kissed him with more ferocity than you had earlier, moaning against his lips as your hands roamed the hard planes of his body.

When you pulled away to breathe, his lips found your jaw, leaving burning kisses until he reached your neck. He licked and nipped at your skin, his hand now coming down to your breast to knead and fondle, before his lips followed, filling his mouth with your flesh as he suckled on your pebbled tip.

“Oh, baby...” you cradled his head, your hand grabbing a fistful of his hair.

His kisses slid down your body, his lips kissing every inch of your skin reverently until his face reach between your leg, his hot breath brushing your slick center. You bit your lip as he kissed the soft flesh of your inner thighs, his lips wet as it sucked a bit of your flesh into his mouth before it trailed down to bury his face between your thighs. Your breath hitched in your throat when his tongue swiped upward in one long stroke.

He suckled on your sensitive nub and you shrieked when he playfully nipped down on it, your hands instantly flying into his thick braids as your hips bucked violently off the mat. The sharp, electric heat hit your sensitive nub, and Neteyam hummed a low, vibrating sound of pure satisfaction against your skin as he felt you tremble. He used his tongue relentlessly, sucking and lapping at you until your breath came in ragged, broken sobs.

Desperate for the weight of him, you tilted your pelvis upward, grinding against his mouth, begging for more. Normally, he’d insert his tongue in you, and you can’t understand why he’s being greedy with his tongue now. He paused, lifting his head just enough to look up your body, his lips glistening in the dim light. He let out a low chuckle, kissing the soft, sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

“Baby, I know you love it... but I won't put my tongue in, hm? My cock will be jealous. Your best friend hasn’t been in you for a year... you see, he hadn’t known a life like that since I was seventeen.”

You groaned loudly, throwing your head back against the furs as the teasing drove you mad. You kicked his chest lightly with your heel, though it lacked any real force. “Then fuck me already! What are you waiting for?”

Neteyam caught your ankle instantly, his grip tightening as he pulled your leg over his broad shoulder. He nipped fiercely at the tender skin near your knee, making you gasp. “So bossy,” he drawled, a wicked spark returning to his eyes. “Just for that, I’d add another thirty minutes to this...”

“Neteyam, please...” you whined.

“Give me one more, baby... I am so parched,” he said dramatically, his handsome face pulling into a mock pout before his mouth came down onto your pussy again.

He didn't give you a chance to protest. He lifted your hips high off the mat, wrapping his powerful arms beneath your thighs, draping your legs completely over his broad shoulders, before burying his face deep between your legs, using the rumbling vibrations of his voice and the flat of his tongue to drive you over the edge. The pressure on your swollen, sensitive flesh was too much, that within seconds, a violent wave tore through you, making you scream his name into the empty hut as your muscles clamped tightly around his mouth.

He held you through the tremors, lapping at your release until you were thoroughly cleaned. He eased you back onto the furs, your eyes closed, completely whited out by the intensity of your recent climax. Your skin was slick with sweat, your long hair sticking to your neck, but Neteyam only seemed to burn hotter at the sight.

You felt the heavy weight of his body settle over yours, his warm mouth moving down to claim your breast, his large hand firmly pressing your knees wider.

“Eyes,” he commanded, his voice dropping into that soft, unyielding tone he only ever used on you.

“I'm so spent...” you breathed, your eyelids fluttering as you weakly pressed a hand against his muscular chest, trying to find your breath.

Neteyam chuckled, a deep sound that vibrated straight into your bones. He kissed the tight line of your jaw before capturing your mouth in a bruising kiss. “You practically kept me in a cage, woman...” he drawled against your lips, his hard length pressing demandingly against your aching center. “And now, you’ve let me loose...”

Your eyes flickered completely open, staring up into the golden fire of his gaze. You pushed your lips forward, leaning into him, and you watched him hold his breath as he realized you were completely his.

“Fuck, I missed you so much, baby...” he whispered, his thumb caressing your slippery folds before he gathered your wetness.

You watched him lather your wetness on his throbbing length as its wide tip nudged your entrance, and with one heavy, agonizingly slow thrust, he slid inside you. Neteyam let out a ragged, guttural groan deep in his throat, his arm snaking behind your waist to pull you up as he buried himself to the hilt, earning a pleasured cry from you.

He froze for a second, his head burying into the crook of your neck as his entire body shuddered, absorbing the intense, tight heat of your walls clamping around him. “Fuck, you're so tight, baby...” he choked out, his breath scalding against your skin.

Before you could fully catch your breath, he lifted himself back up on his hands, his golden eyes finding yours again, refusing to let you look away. Slowly, he began to move. He pulled nearly all the way out, letting you feel every ridges of his length, before driving back in forcefully, making you whimper. Your head rolled back against the furs as your back arched.

His hand instantly came up to cup your jaw, his fingers firm but gentle as he guided your face back to his. “No, look at me,” he commanded, his breath hitching as he started moving.

You bit your lip, but your pleasured whimpers find their way out of your mouth as his large hand caged your jaw to make sure you won’t look away from him as his pace picked up. Your moans grew louder when his thrusts turned deeper and harder, striking the very center of your pleasure. Your breaths came in jagged huffs, mixing alongside your cries and his deep groans.

“Fuck, baby...” he moaned, his eyes closing for a moment.

You pressed a palm against his chest. “Open your eyes,” you commanded, pushing him back a little. “Watch yourself take me.”

He groaned, a huff of weakened and humored laugh escaping through his nose as he lifted himself on his hands, looking down at you with eyes filled of unadulterated hunger. His humor died in his throat the moment he saw the look in your eyes. He was the commander, yes, but right here, pinned beneath the weight of your gaze, he was entirely at your mercy.

“You like to play the general now, do you?” he rasped, his voice dropping into a dangerous register that sent a violent shiver straight down your spine.

His large hand slid from your jaw, his fingers tangling tightly into the hair at the back of your head, anchoring you firmly to the furs. With his other hand bracing his massive weight over you, he delivered a frantic, brutal, and deep pace into you. You stared up at him, your chest heaving as your breaths came in ragged, desperate gasps. You watched the way the veins in his neck strained, the way his jaw clenched so hard the muscles jumped, and the sheer worship bleeding from his eyes.

He was completely undone, sweating and growling like a wild creature, stripped of all his rigid discipline until there was nothing left but his love for you.

The friction was driving you insane that you were literally reduced to a moaning, crying mess under him as your hips began to meet his every thrust instinctively, the coil of heat in your lower stomach tightening to a breaking point.

“I love you so much...” he moaned.

“Oh, baby... ‘teyam, I am so close, I can't—” you wept, your hips twitching away from his relentless thrusts but you only seemed to burn even more when his hand grabbed your waist to keep you in place.

“No, stay with me,” he rasped, his grip on your hair tightening just enough to keep you grounded. He picked up the speed, his movements becoming a blur of friction as he drove himself into you so hard that the entire world shrank down to your pussy. “Look at me when you break, baby. Give it to me.”

You couldn't hold it anymore. With one final deep plunge, the dam broke in a violent, white-hot explosion of pleasure rippling through your core, your walls seizing and pulsing around his girth. You cried his name, your eyes squeezing closed as your climax tore through you. Meanwhile, the tight clench you’re holding him with was the final blow to his restraint.

Neteyam let out a low groan as he threw his head back, burying himself to the absolute hilt, pouring his heat deep inside you while his body shuddered violently against yours. He collapsed over you a moment later, his frame curling a little so he could fit himself in your smaller frame, his face buried in the valley between your breasts.

His breath scalded your skin before his mouth moved to kiss your skin. He stayed buried deep inside you, his long arms wrapping securely around your waist, holding you so close it felt like he wanted to press his very soul into yours. You cradled his head, your other hand squeezing his shoulder when he sucked on your pebbled tip hard.

You groaned, “What about rest?” you mumbled.

He lifted his head. “Rest?” he raised a brow as if that was a foreign word.

You pushed your lips forward. “See, I was... undisturbed for moons, Neteyam. I think my stamina needed practicing,” you mumbled.

He smirked. “Now might be the best time for practice.”

You bit your lip, your hand cupping his nape to kiss him. “On the side note... You’re right,” you squeezed around him. “I miss you very much.”

He smiled, his lips coming down on yours. The hours dissolved into the shadows of the hut. The clan had grown quiet as the night went on, but neither of you noticed as though the world outside your hut didn't exist. There was only the rhythmic, heavy slap of skin against skin, his low, breathless groans, and your desperate cries of his name echoing in the quiet room.

By the time the bioluminescence outside began to glow with the midnight moons, the frantic heat had finally settled into a soft, exhausted warmth. You lay on top of him, your chin sitting on his chest as his arms wrapped securely around your waist. You were tracing the smooth, familiar lines of his chest, your breathing finally matching his steady rhythm.

Suddenly, a loud, deep rumble echoed through the quiet space.

You blinked, a bit dazed and Neteyam let out a low, amused chuckle. You pouted, pushing yourself up a little, his large hand slid down to caress the soft, slightly damp skin of your flat belly.

“Fuck, I forgot dinner,” he said, his eyes widening a little.

You blinked, lazy, satisfied smile spreading across your face. “Huh... I strangely feel full.”

Neteyam’s hand paused on your stomach, his fingers rubbing a warm, slow circle over your skin as a knowing, utterly devastating chuckle escaped him. He leaned over, pressing a sweet, lingering kiss to your lips.

“I sure hope so,” he grinned, his golden eyes flashing with a playful, wicked heat. “But let’s feed you first, my love. I’m not done with you yet.” He reluctantly sit up, lifting you up a little by your waist and gently plopping you down the furs with a hard kiss on your lips. “Don’t get up.”

He came back with the dinner you had prepared earlier and Maytel’s berry pie, both of which you devoured, occasionally feeding each other small bites while sitting cross-legged on the floor, unashamed of your nakedness. The moment the last of the food was cleared, Neteyam didn't give you a chance to think about cleaning up.

He moved to clean it all away quickly. True to his word, he wasn't done with you. The lovemaking that followed was slower and sweeter, full of whispers and quiet giggling. By the time you two settled back into a soft, exhausted warmth, you lay tucked against his side, your cheek pressed flat against his muscled chest, listening to the steady thudding of his heart while his long arm wrapped around you, anchoring you to him.

You stared into the soft darkness, tracing a light circle over his chest. “What do you think about going back to High Camp?” you asked softly.

Neteyam stiffened instantly beside you, his breath hitching before his eyes snapped down to look at you, wide and suddenly laced with absolute horror. “Baby, surely you are not kicking me back to High Camp?” he asked, his voice rough and panicked. “We have just reconciled. I want to stay. I am staying. I will never leave again. Besides... what if you get pregnant and I am not here?”

The sheer dread in his tone made you stifle a smile, but a soft chuckle eventually escaped you. You shifted, resting your chin on his chest so you could look at him properly. “I will be with you. Me and Nevan... we will all go back to High Camp together. What do you think of that?”

Neteyam blinked, entirely caught off guard, his ears twitching in confusion. “I... I don't know,” he murmured softly, his hand coming up to gently smooth down your hair. “You are safer here, baby. You and Nevan. And I don’t want to be away from you ever again...”

A sudden wave of warmth made your eyes tear up. “That is why we are coming,“ you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “You will never be apart from me again. From us. But... that doesn't mean you have to stop doing what you worked your entire life to prepare for,” you stared at him, “I fell in love with a warrior, Neteyam. I mated with a warrior. You are a leader to the people, and I shouldn't have made you choose between your duty to them and your duty to your heart. I meant what I said earlier, baby. We are all learning. I will always be here to support you now, and I will never leave your side. So... I think we should go back. But only if you want it.”

Neteyam stared at you, his own eyes growing misty in the dark. The crushing weight he had carried seemed to fully lift, replaced by a profound peace. Without a word, he pulled you up by your waist, bringing your lips down to his in a deep kiss that tasted of absolute gratitude and a love that grew even deeper and larger.

The next say, Maytel returned your son the moment the morning sun broke over the terraces. His teasing, knowing eyes were incredibly annoying as he took in your flushed skin and Neteyam’s completely relaxed posture, but you chose to ignore his smirks, focusing instead on your son who was as bubbly as ever, practically throwing his little body into your arms, eager to tell you everything about sleeping at his grandparents’ as if it was a vacation.

While you held Nevan, Neteyam stepped forward, his expression serious but entirely respectful. “Maytel,” he said, his voice deep. “Can we talk for a moment?”

Surprised, Maytel’s smirk faltered, his eyes darting quickly to you. You offered him a warm, reassuring nod and a smile, letting him know it was for something good. The two stepped outside onto the platform, and though you couldn't hear the words, you watched as Neteyam clasped Maytel's shoulder in a gesture of gratitude.

Once the air was fully cleared, Maytel left with a promise of more pie for your son, who had just discovered that his parents completely finished off the pie Maytel brought yesterday.

“What would you like for breakfast, my little sun?” Neteyam asked, playfully tickling Nevan’s belly.

Nevan giggled, patting it as his chest puffed proudly. “I ate many smoked fish and... and kelp soup!”

You watched Neteyam chuckle, feigning surprise for his son’s entertainment. “Oh! You already ate, huh? No wonder your belly’s so rooound.” Neteyam bent down a little to blow air into Nevan’s belly, sending your son into a fit of giggles as he threw his head back in laughter.

You leaned your cheek against your son’s small arm, looking at Neteyam as you sat down on the mats of your receiving area. “Nevan,” you smiled, smoothing his little ear back. “How would you like to go on an adventure? We are flying back to Grandma and Grandpa.”

Nevan’s eyes went completely wide, his little tail swishing frantically against your leg. “To see the big ikrans? With Papa?” he squealed, jumping straight into Neteyam’s arms and hugging his neck tightly.

Neteyam melted against his son, his eyes crinkling with absolute adoration that made your smile grow wider. Later that night, you trekked up to your parents’ hut to bring a pie you made and to discuss with them your plans to go back to High Camp. Neteyam took his time sincerely apologizing to your parents who kindly dismissed his apology, gently reminding him that your forgiveness was the only kind that mattered and it clearly seemed like you had given it.

The flight back to High Camp was long and carefully calculated. Neteyam took no chances with your and Nevan’s safety, choosing to fly his ikran yards ahead of yours, scouting the valleys first, taking a much longer, winding route to completely avoid the coordinates he knew were patrolled by the RDA.

When your ikrans finally landed on the rocky ledges of High Camp where you were welcomed back with a small, joyous celebration. Jake and Neytiri were the first to embrace you, their eyes shining with relief to see their eldest son whole again, while the council looked on with relief to have Neteyam back into the fold.

But the moons he spent just learning the rhythm of the world with you and Nevan seemed to have ingrained themselves deeper than his warrior routines. Now, he couldn’t leave the hut without sharing breakfast with you, his large hands gently guiding his son’s tiny fingers over his food to teach him how to eat on his own before heading out to the scouting decks.

Then, he would return at midday to spend the eclipse with you, helping put Nevan down for a nap before heading back out to coordinate the perimeters. By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, he was home for the night, stripping off his weapons and warrior gear to belong entirely to you.

He still couldn’t believe how stupid he had been. Even though you had forgiven him, insisting that you both made mistakes because you were still just learning, he believed he should have known better. Now that he was able to manage both of his lives so seamlessly, he couldn't understand how he had let the war consume him so completely before, letting years pass making you feel neglected and thinking he had chosen his duty over you, his heart.

There are nights though, where the weight of his duty still clawed at his shoulders. After an armed encounter with the RDA during his patrols, he still tried to come home as early as possible, his body rigid and vibrating with tension. You had already blew the firelight dimmed by the time he arrived from the council, his movements hurried and when he saw that Nevan was already asleep in his hammock, you saw his shoulders slumped, his face crumpling in controlled distress.

You stood up, welcoming him to help bim remove his cummerbund and weapons, hanging them on a rack. “Has he been asleep long?”

“Only because he played too much with the other kids earlier,” you told him, chuckling as your hands caressed his shoulders. “He could barely eat his dinner, his eyelids were already drooping.”

He looked down at his son, his large caressing the boy’s head. “I’m sorry, I came home late...” he mumbled.

You bit your lip. “Neteyam...” you hugged him from the side, kissing his shoulder, feeling the tension in them soften a bit. “I heard of the encounter. Tell me what happened...”

Your hands gently worked through the knots in his shoulders as he spoke, his voice dropping into that low, tense cadence. “The skirmishes have escalated, baby,” Neteyam muttered, his jaw tightening as he stared blankly at his hands. “It’s only been three moons since we came back, and the RDA patrols are pushing further into the southern valley. Earlier, they nearly pinned my scouts against the ridge. I almost called in a full air strike, but the canopy was too thick. I had to pull them back. Lo’ak thinks we should ambush their next supply line there, but... the risk is too high.”

You stopped massaging his shoulders and shifted, angling your head so he had to look at you. “You did the right thing by pulling back,” you said softly. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned from you in all the years I’ve known you is that you are not impulsive. You are not a warrior who wants only victory. I think... they are baiting you and they are expecting an ambush on their supply line. Eywa has given us enough to fight the demons, ‘teyam. Perhaps you could change your flight paths, lead them toward the weeping bogs where their heavy metal suits can't tread. Let the forest do the fighting for you.”

Neteyam blinked, a sudden, quiet clarity washing over his stressed features. He let out a long breath through his nose, his lips parting as a humored, thoroughly impressed smile broke through his tension. “See, this is why I’m not performing well in the moons you were not with me...” he pulled you for a kiss.

You smiled, “And that’s completely my fault, I think,” you whispered. “Mind if I make up for it?”

His eyes narrowed a little as you slowly sank to your knees in front of him. His breath hitched in his throat, his hands coming down to rest heavily on your shoulders as your hand moved to his loincloth to palm his hard on, biting your lips when you found him already hard, responding to your show in an instant. You stroke it for a moment before moving the fabric aside to let the thick, throbbing length spring free.

You wrapped your hand around the base of his girth, sliding your palm up to feel the heavy ridges snaking along his length, looking straight up into his eyes, you leaned forward and opened your mouth, sliding your lips over the wide head of his cock. Neteyam let out a low, ragged groan, his knuckles turning white as he gripped on the nearest rack.

You kept an unbroken, intense eye contact as you took him deeper, your throat stretching to accommodate his impressive length, pumping your hand at the base while your mouth worked relentlessly, sucking the sensitive head before sliding all the way down until your nose pressed into his pelvic, the heat of his cock filling your mouth.

“Fuck, baby...” he choked out, his head tossing back for a second before your firm gaze anchored him right back to you.

His large hand came down, caging your jaw to keep your face tilted up toward his. His eyes darkened as he began to move his hips, delivering restrained thrusts straight down your throat. You took every inch of him, your eyes watering slightly from the depth, but you never broke your stare. You sucked harder, swirling your tongue around the ridges, driving him absolutely mad with the tight, wet friction of your mouth.

His breathing turned into frantic, ragged huffs as his thrusts became faster, deeper, completely losing his hard-earned discipline warmth of your mouth. “Fuck, you're so good to me...”

The veins in his neck strained, his jaw clenching as he reached his limit. He delivered three deep plunges into your mouth before his whole body stiffened, his thick, hot release pulsing down your throat. You swallowed every drop of his heavy warmth, your throat moving refusing to pull away even as he pulled you back.

When you slowly slid your mouth off his length with a squelching sound, he shivered, thinking it was over but when you dragged your tongue up to lick him entirely clean from base to tip, your eyes still locked onto his blown-out gaze, his knees buckled.

Neteyam looked entirely undone, his chest heaving as he stared down at you in pure, reverent worship. You licked your lips, smiling at him, while his hands lifted you up effortlessly. His arm wrapped around you, his lips crashing down on your lips at the same time your body landed on the hard planes of his. He groaning as silently against your mouth, his large hand groping your chest down to your waist and hips until it wrapped around the back of your thighs.

He lifted it up and knowing what he wanted, you hooked your arms around his shoulders before wrapping your other leg around him. His hard length was already hardening again against your thigh, and with a swift wipe aside of your loincloth, he drove into you, fucking you with a ferocity that made you feel exactly the tension that was engulfing him the whole day.

You pursed your lips to and buried your face face against the crook of his neck to muffle your pleasured sounds as his fingers dug into your hips, relentlessly moving your over his cock.

“I love you,” he groaned, way louder than he should.

“Neteyam!” you whisper-shouted, your fingers on his scratching.

He chuckled, his head angling to press his lips against your cheek, groaning as muffled as possible, but still letting you know how good he's feeling as your warmth enveloped him tightly. You let out a pleasured huff when he shivered against you, spilling his warm seed inside you, and triggering your own release.

He groaned again, but as silent as he could now, his hand working on the ties of your loincloth behind you, shedding it off you without removing himself from you. He lowered you down on the soft furs, his cock slipping out a little when he removed his own loincloth. He spread your legs wider to slip it back in though, lowering himself to kiss you softly.

Hours later, the frantic heat had settled into a soft, exhausted warmth. You lay tangled together on the messy furs, your head resting on his chest while his arm was around your waist.

“Thank you, my love,” Neteyam murmured into the dark, his fingers gently tracing patterns along your arm.

You let out a soft, sleepy giggle, pressing a light kiss against his bare chest, listening to the steady, peaceful rhythm of his heart. “Someone has to keep the commander grounded.”

The peace in the weeks that followed was a precious, yet stolen gift, because with the encounters along the borders growing increasingly volatile, you knew it would soon reach a tipping point. What began as scattered, desperate shootouts quickly spiraled out of control, and Jake found it better to lead an offensive attack before the demons pushed deeper and harder against the resistance.

So, when Toruk Makto took to the sky once more, High Camp emptied. Neteyam kissed your lips until they were bruised and held Nevan so tightly the boy let out a confused whimper, before taking to the sky on his ikran, his jaw set with the determination of a man fighting to make sure that his children would never know the shadow of a gunship.

While the sky in the distant horizons burned with the smoke of explosions, you remained in the deep caverns of High Camp, sitting among the circle of women, your fingers tightly interwoven with Kiri’s, while Mo’at led the low, rhythmic chanting, praying to the Great Mother for the battle’s success.

Every breath you took felt heavy, not just from the fear for your husband, but from the secret you had yet to tell him. You had known for a few weeks now. You were pregnant.

You chose not to tell him at the height of the planning the offense, wanting him focused entirely on staying alive, but Nevan had practically been manifesting it. Ever since one of his playmates’ mothers had given birth to a tiny, squirming infant, your son had been absolutely obsessed with the concept.

Just days before the warriors marched, Nevan had sat on the mats, badgering you both with endless demands. “Want one of those at home, Mama! To play with!”

Neteyam had just laughed, sweeping the boy up into his powerful arms to cradling him against his broad chest like an infant to distract him. “But you are still our baby, my boy,” Neteyam had teased, his voice thick with affection as he brushed the tip of his nose against Nevan's. “You are always Mama and Papa’s baby.” Nevan had thrown his head back, giggling frantically, completely forgetting about the talk.

Now, clutching your flat stomach in the dim light, you whispered a prayer to Great Mother Eywa to bring that doting their father back to you. Whole and safe. You didn’t realize how much of a pressure it would be to be his wife during a major battle. Even in your distress, you needed to put on a calm facade and show the other women the tranquility that should belong to a wife of a warrior.

Fortunately, even before night fell, Eywa answered your prayers in the thunderous, victorious roars of ikrans echoing through the mountains.

The people had won. The clans Toruk Makto had united once again cleansed Eywa’eveng of the evil the sky people brought upon your world. Tuk roamed around chirping about reports on how the war party blew up Bridgehead, crushing the RDA’s main stronghold and ensuring they won’t bounce back as quickly as they usually should, with Jake leading the talks to force them back to the sky.

High Camp exploded into a frenzy of celebratory flutes and drums as the warriors touched down, their wives and children welcoming them with tears. Through the crowd, you spotted him. Neteyam leaped off his ikran, covered in soot and paint, his braids wild. The moment his eyes found yours through the throng, his fearsome warrior mask completely shattered, walking faster to get to you.

“Papa!” Nevan sprinted toward him and Neteyam caught the boy in his arms, before colliding into you with a force that lifted you off your feet, his massive arms wrapped around your waist, burying his face into the crook of your neck as he breathed in your scent, desperate to replace the stench of burning metal.

“I'm back, baby,” he choked out, his voice rough against your skin.

You held his face, tears streaming down your cheeks as you kissed him desperately. Nevan was already pulling at his father's braids, forcing him away from you, making both of you laugh. Neteyam pressed fierce kisses all over the boy’s face, and you did the same, making Nevan giggle, his neck scrunching in ticklishness.

The celebration for the victory began as night fell, all the torches and firepots were lit, glowing brighter than it ever had before. Even the moons cast down a glow different than the ones you’ve had in the past years, as if they were breathing more peacefully, too.

As the drums beat steadily in the background, Neteyam sat with you at the edge of the gathering, his arm anchoring you to his side while a thoroughly exhausted Nevan curled up asleep against his thigh. Neteyam looked down at his son, a soft, content smile resting on his lips, before his eyes drifted back to you, brimming with an unburdened, quiet adoration.

“We can build anything now,” Neteyam whispered, his large hand lifting to cup your nape, massaging a little. “A real future. Just you, me, and our boy.”

You smiled, your heart hammering a joyful rhythm against your ribs. You took his large hand, slowly guiding it away from yours and placing his wide palm flat against your lower stomach.

Neteyam blinked, looking down at his hand on your belly, then back up at your face. He froze, his ears twitching as he caught the blooming, emotional heat in your eyes.

“Baby...?"” he breathed, his voice suddenly trembling, the fierce commander completely replaced by the image of a stunned, hopeful boy you had grown up with.

“I can’t believe you’re surprised,“ you playfully widened your eyes at him.

He chuckled, and even through that, you saw a tear slipped down his cheek. “Right. Like I wasn’t actively aiming for that.”

You huffed a chuckle through your nose. “Nevan is going to get his wish,” you whispered, “You are going to have to practice cradling another baby very soon, Neteyam.”

A breathless, ecstatic laugh erupted from his chest. He didn't care who was watching; he leaned forward and captured your mouth in a deep, bruising kiss, his large hand trembling where it rested over the new life you were carrying.

“I will be here now. Always. To hear her first laughs, first words, and to watch her first steps...” he mumbled against your lips.

You smiled, your eyes locking onto his. “Her?”

“Their supply lines are vulnerable here, along the gorge,” Jake Sully was saying, moving a stone on the ridge on the map. “But they’ve got turrets scanning the skies. If we fly in blind, we’re target practice.”

“We need a distraction,” Neteyam muttered, his brow furrowed as he stared at the map. “Someone fast enough to draw the attention away from the ground strike team, but agile enough to avoid getting hit. But it’s high risk.”

“My people are born on the wind,” Ikeyni spoke up. She placed a hand flat on the table, her sharp eyes shifting from Jake to his eldest son. “If you need someone who can deliver what you need, you take my daughter.”

Neteyam’s head snapped up. His golden eyes immediately finding yours from where you leaned against the pillar, as if he knew where exactly you had been standing. A frown instantly marred his handsome face and he turned back to your mother, his posture stiffening.

“Olo’eykte, with respect, the RDA has upgraded those tracking systems,” Neteyam argued, his voice tight with that dutiful edge you loved to mess with. “They aren’t just shooting blindly anymore. It is high risk. A single mistake, and the ikran and its rider are—”

“Are you saying I can’t handle it?”

You purred the words as you finally pushed off the pillar, sauntering closer to the table, tossing your half-braided sheath fiber aside. Every eye in the room tracked your movement, but yours were locked on the Omatikaya’s golden boy. You stopped right beside him, close enough that you felt the heat radiating from him. You tilted your head up, letting a slow smirk pull at your lips as you looked at his clenched jaw.

“If I didn’t know any better,” you murmured, leaning in just a fraction closer, “I’d think you were trying to keep me out of the sky to keep me safe. I didn’t realize you care that much?”

A sudden bark of laughter broke out from an elder across the table and the others followed suit. Meanwhile, your brother shook his head at your sheer audacity. Jake Sully’s lips twitched upward, a faint, amused glint in his eyes as he looked between you two, clearly remembering what it was like to be young and stubborn. Even the older, stern warriors around the table began to chuckle, the suffocating tension of the war efforts breaking open to let a little light in. It was a comforting reminder to the elders that despite the demons coming back, the youth were still acting their age.

Neteyam, however, did not laugh.

He let out a long, slow breath through his nose, his shoulders dropping a fraction as he looked down at you. His ears twitched back in mild annoyance, but he didn't step away from you. He was tolerant, as he always was, enduring your teasing with the patience of a tree weathering a storm. He had always known that you are a lethal asset to the people’s war efforts... But unfortunately, you are also a source of a massive, distracting headache.

“I care about the success of the mission,” Neteyam said, his voice dropping into a low register meant only for you. His gaze was incredibly intense up close, close to the kind of focus that had made you shiver imagining just moments ago. “We are planning a raid that could cost lives. This isn’t the time for games.”

Partly slighted at his doubt, you frowned. “I am completely serious,” you said, dropping the just enough to show the deadly huntress beneath. You motioned at the map right where the turrets were marked. “These are coastal winds. I’ve navigated treacherous cliff gaps like it’s a playground snce I was a child. My ikran and I will rise to the challenge, you’ll see.”

“Alright, alright, break it up,” Jake intervened, though the grin was obvious in his voice as he tapped the map. “If Ikeyni says she’s the one for the job, then she’s the one. Neteyam, you’ll be leading the ground insertion. That means your timing with the distraction has to be perfect.”

Neteyam tore his eyes away from you, nodding sharply to his father. “Yes, sir.”

But as the council began to break into smaller groups to discuss once more among themselves, Neteyam didn't immediately walk away. He stayed right where he was, his towering frame casting a shadow over you. He looked down at you, the exasperation fading into something quieter, something serious and heavy.

“It really is dangerous out there,” he said softly, his golden eyes searching yours. “The winds in the gorge are unpredictable.”

You matched his seriousness for a rare, passing second, to let him see that you are capable underneath all the flirting. “I know, Neteyam. But I’m faster than them. Trust me.”

He nodded, his jaw hardening. “I do trust you. Just... don't make me regret it.”

With a final, lingering look that left your heart hammering against your ribs, he turned to follow his father. You watched him go, your smirk slowly returning as you realized that for at least a few minutes, you had been the absolute center of his universe.

The next day, you were up before the first light, immediately going to where your ikran was roosting, smiling when you saw her already prepared, like always. “Ready, girl?“ you murmured, stroking her sleek, brightly patterned neck.

She screeched in response, a sharp, eager sound and you chuckled, mounting her back and connecting your kuru to hers, the familiar, rushing warmth of the tsaheylu flooding your senses. Your head swiveled to the side when you sensed a presence, seeing Neteyam stopping several paces away, already geared with his warrior cummerbund, longbow, amd chest knife sheath.

Your head tilted, admiring how handsome he looked as you smiled brightly. “Hi! Good morning,” you grinned. “Came to send me with a good luck kiss?”

He remained serious though, his eyes scanning your form on your ikran. “Be careful out there.” he said in a clipped tone, not waiting for a response before he turned away.

You chuckled, shaking your head. So serious, you thought, smirking. So handsome, too, anyway, the other part of your mind retorted and you rolled your eyes. You clicked your tongue and pulled at your ikran’s reins, making her surge up into the sky. You flew higher than usual, hiding in the thick clouds to scan high above the gorge. The sky was still a deep, bruised purple when the signal came through the comms secured to your ear.

“Pathfinder,” Jake Sully’s voice crackled, steady and calm. “Ground teams, position. You are clear to engage. Eye in the sky, you're up.”

A heartbeat later, a lower, tighter voice filtered through. “Be careful up there. Hit your marks.”

Neteyam.

Your smirk returned, invisible to him but it laced your voice enough for him to imagine it. “I heard that twice already, Neteyam. Are you so worried?” your honeyed teasing voice dripping through the comms.

You heard his groan and it was followed by a chuckle that sounded so much like Jake’s but it was cut short. “Just focus on the mission,” Neteyam’s voice snapped back through the earpiece.

You chuckled. “Watch the skies, Sully. Try not to blink, or you’ll miss me.”

Without waiting for a response, you clicked your tongue. Your ikran folded her wings and dove straight off the cliffside into the gaping maw of the gorge. The wind shrieked past your ears, whipping your braids wildly. Below, the metallic structures of the RDA outpost clung to the valley floor like a parasite. Within seconds, the base's automated defense grid woke up. Loud whirs echoed through the canyon as three massive turrets pivoted, their motion-tracking lasers sweeping the dark sky until they locked onto you.

“Now!” you hissed, leaning flat against your ikran's back.

You maneuvered your ikran in the sky as heavy explosive rounds tore through the air. The blasts should have scared you, but it surprised even you that it didn’t. You pulled sharply on the reins, banking hard to the left. A volley of bullet shattered the rocky cliffside right where you had been a millisecond before, reducing it to a powdery debris. You laughed out loud,  pushing your mount into a tight, dizzying barrel roll, diving directly between the narrow gaps of the cliffs.

The tracking systems couldn't keep up. The automated turrets jerked violently, scrambling to overcorrect their aim as you flew through the blind spots, From your view high above, you watched Neteyam and his ground strike team. While the turrets were completely distracted by your earlier display, they swarmed out of the dense forest like shadows. Leading the charge, Neteyam moved with terrifying precision, breaching the perimeter fencing, dropping two RDA guards before they could even raise their weapons. Behind him, Lo'ak and the other warriors systematically planted charges on the supply crates and fuel lines.

Even from up above, your eyes found him effortlessly, admiring his swift and unyielding movements, completely commanding. He was a force of nature.

“Charges are live! Pull back, pull back!” You heard Neteyam’s voice bark through the comms. He looked up into the sky, his golden eyes scanning the smoke until he caught the bright, unmistakable red of your ikran’s wings looping through the clouds. “Y/N, disengage! Get out of there!”

Swooping low one last time, you let out a victorious battle cry as a massive explosion ripped through the base behind you. You looked and saw an image of a huge ball of fire consuming the turrets and the supply lines. The explosion gave your ikran the motivation to increase her speed, launching you up and out of the fiery gotge into the safety of the skies. The raid was a flawless success.

By the time you got back to Hometree, the adrenaline was still humming under your skin. You hopped down from your ikran, patting her flank affectionately as the other warriors cheered and celebrated the clean victory. No casualties for the party and a massive blow to the sky people. A smudge of black engine soot marred your cheek, your eyes searching the crowd.

Neteyam was standing near his father, catching his breath, his skin glistening with sweat and ash. He looked exhausted, but the heavy tension that usually held his shoulders tight had momentarily melted away. As if sensing your gaze, his head turned. His golden eyes locked onto yours across the clearing. You stared at him, raising your brow and tilting your chind up with a proud, triumphant grin that said, I told you so.

Neteyam watched you for a long moment. Then, slowly, a genuine, breathless smile broke across his handsome face. It was a rare, stunning sight that made your heart do a violent flip against your ribs. He broke away from his father and walked straight toward you, stopping just a foot away.

“You showboated,” he murmured, his voice low but devoid of the seriousness that usually laced it.

“I just gave them a show,” you corrected smoothly, crossing your arms. “There is a difference. And I did it.”

“You did,” Neteyam conceded, his eyes dropping to the soot on your cheek before rising to meet your gaze with an intensity that made you almost forget how to breathe. “It was an incredible show. You were incredible up there.”

Your breath hitched. For all your constant flirting and loud teasing, having his quiet praise directed entirely at you caught you completely off guard that the witty comeback died on your tongue, your cheeks warming under his stare.

Neteyam noticed your sudden silence, and a small, amused smirk, one that looked a lot like your own, as if he had just copied it, pulled at the corner of his lips.

“What's wrong?” he asked softly, stepping just a fraction closer. “Quiet now? I didn't realize it was that easy to shut you up.”

You stared up at him, your mouth slightly open. The proximity was intoxicating, and for someone who usually spent his time dodging your advances, he was occupying a lot of your personal space now.

Your eyes flicked down to his smirk, then back up to his eyes. “I’m just savoring the moment. You’re more handsome up close,“ you smirked, regaining your composure a little. You leaned in, forcing him to maintain that dizzying eye contact. “And it’s not every day the great Neteyam admits I'm incredible. I might just let it get in my head.”

Neteyam’s smirk faltered for a fraction of a second. Coughing softly, he cleared his throat as he took a strategic step backward, breaking the contact but keeping his eyes locked onto yours. “Don't get used to it,” he muttered, though his tone was lacking any real bite. “Go get cleaned up. My father wants a full debrief within the hour.”

He turned on his heel and walked back toward Jake, though you didn't miss the way his tail swished behind him. You let out a quiet, triumphant laugh, wiping the soot from your cheek with the back of your hand. There was still an armor, but you had managed to crack it... That’s a small victory!

In the following days, the high of the victory had settled into the familiar routine of war. The leaders gathered once again in the pavilion. This time, however, the mood was lighter. The success of the gorge raid had given the rebellion more time to breathe. Your mother pointed at the eastern coast on the map, discussing the movement of RDA sea vessels who was last seen going farther east.

“They are retreating toward the deep water,” your brother noted, crossing his arms. “The destruction of the supply lines has damaged their operations in the coastal outposts.”

“We need to take control of the momentum,” Jake said, leaning over the table. “Neteyam, what’s the status of our perimeter watches?”

Neteyam stepped forward, completely back into his professional, disciplined element. “The forest guards are doubling their patrols. But we need to ensure our aerial scouts are maintaining a strict radius. We can't afford to get complacent just because we succeed in one mission.”

You smiled, resting your chin in your palm as you leaned over the map table, deliberately putting yourself right in his line of sight. “Oh, don't worry, Commander. Our scouts are alwasys in the air. We don't get tired easily.” You paused, letting your eyes slowly track down his body before bringing your gaze back to his face. “Though, if you're so worried about our stamina, you're welcome to come up with me next time. I can show you how we stay energized.”

A collective ripple of amused snickers passed through the council. Your brother hid his face in his hands, muttering something about losing his mind, while your mother let out a small, huffing chuckle. “Daughter...” she said pointedly.

Neytiri smiled, shaking her head at Ikeyni. You watched Neteyam close his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. He let out a long sigh, his shoulders dropping. He was so incredibly tolerant of you, enduring the teasing with the quiet patience of a palulukan letting a cub bat at its tail.

“Y/N,” Neteyam said slowly, opening his eyes to look at you with deadpan exasperation. “I have to train the youth at the archery grounds after this. I do not have time to be a part of your games.”

“A shame,” you purred, flashing him a brilliant, unbothered grin. “You don't know what you're missing.”

Hours later, you found yourself wandering down toward the village training grounds, hearing the familiar sound of snapping bowstrings and the light thud of arrows hitting bark targets. You stood there, crossing your arms as you watched the scene. Neteyam was in his element. He was surrounded by a dozen young, aspiring warriors, all holding smaller training bows. He was patient and focused, moving down the line to correct their posture.

“Keep your elbow high,” Neteyam instructed a young boy, gently adjusting the kid's arm. “Do not fight the bow string. Let it become an extension of your arm. Look at the center of the mark, breathe out, and release.”

The boy released the string, and the arrow thudded squarely into the inner ring of the target. The kids cheered, and Neteyam offered a rare, warm smile, patting the boy's shoulder.

“Very good. Again.”

“Nice,” you called out, stepping out from the shadows.

The group of young hunters immediately turned, their eyes widening when they saw you. In your clan, you were a legend among the youth, the daughter who flew like the wind and didn't care about the rules. A few of the older teenagers standing nearby immediately started whispering and nudging each other, grinning widely because everyone knew you loved to push Neteyam’s buttons.

Neteyam stiffened, his shoulders squaring as he turned to face you. He gripped his longbow, his ears twitching back. “I am teaching, Y/N. Go find something else to do.”

“I just want to see if I can help,” you said innocently, sauntering closer until you were standing right in front of him, entirely ignoring the giggles of the children behind him. You reached out, your fingers lightly tracing the curve of his heavy longbow. “You see, kids, the Omatikaya are used to shooting on the ground, on their feet. But if you want real precision while moving, you need a loose hip. Like this.”

You fluidly snatched a training bow from a nearby rack, notched an arrow in the blink of an eye, and without even pausing to aim, you spun on your heel and released. The young warriors erupted into gasps and cheers when they saw the arrow hit the center of the furthest target cleanly, totally thrilled by the display. You tossed the bow back onto the rack, turning around to look at Neteyam with a smug, raised eyebrow.

“See?” you murmured, stepping into his space, tilting your head up. “It’s about flexibility, too. Maybe I should give you a private lesson sometime. I can teach you how to loosen up what’s stiff.” you murmured, biting your lip.

Neteyam’s eyes narrowed, his aw practically tightening into stone. His face burned a furious, deep shade of violet, his golden eyes wide as he stared down at you. He knows, with a piercing awareness, how completely trapped he is between his duty and his sheer, chaotic attraction to you, and he shouldn’t like it. But he does, so Eywa help him. He took a deep breath, gripping his bow tightly to keep his hands from shaking.

“Class dismissed,” Neteyam barked out, his voice a strained, tight rumble. “Go practice your stealth skills. Now.”

The kids scrambled away, still laughing and whispering, leaving the two of you completely alone in the training grounds. Neteyam stepped even closer, his towering frame casting a shadow over you as he glared down, though the heat radiating from his skin told a completely different story.

“You are impossible,” he whispered fiercely.

You laughed, enjoying the sight of the crack getting bigger each day. You’ve never had this much progress in the past... Perhaps because you don’t really see each other for longer than a few days. Sometimes, your mother gets invited to festivals in the Omatikaya and she brings you and your brother with her, or it’s her who invites the Sullys to come for festivals in your clan.

You’ve always liked Neteyam better than his brother. Lo’ak is a good acquaintance, but it was Neteyam who you’ve always found more interesting. What with his intense focus and unyielding determination on everything he puts his mind to, but you could tell it was also born from his desire to live up to his parents’ legacy.

He is the firstborn, after all. The heir to the Omatikaya leadership. The return of the sky people was the reason why he’s grown even more serious and focused, determined to protect the people, Eywa’eveng, and his family, even more so. You respect that a great deal, but you also think he needs to loosen up a bit before he stresses himself into an early grave.

You wonder if he even has interest in women, or if he only cares about his bows and his arrows. But you don’t like to think of that. It makes you fiercely jealous to think of him directing that intense focus on a woman who’s not you... Or to think of him letting a woman see past the armor you’re working so hard to crack.

But you are too confident. You thought the crack in his armor was getting wider by the day, and you genuinely believed it was only a matter of time before he finally let his guard down.

You should have remembered that in war, the higher you fly, the harder you fall.

More council meetings ensued in the following days, and now, you found yourself back in the sky. The RDA had deployed a small convoy of armored vehicles, and Neteyam’s squad was tasked to do a quiet interception.

“Hold your position above the tree line,” you heard Neteyam’s voice through the comms, crisp and authoritative. “Do not engage until the ground team has disabled their communications. If they see you, they will lock down the area and call for reinforcements. Do you copy?”

You had copied. But as you circled in the grey mist, you saw one of the AMP suits pivoting its heavy cannon directly toward the dense foliage where Neteyam’s ground sweepers were crawling. Your heart leaped into your throat. You waited to hear from him, or for the communication to be cut, but you can’t wait when they could all be gunned down any second.

I am fast enough, you had thought, fueled by that same headstrong confidence that had always served you before. I can take out that suit before it fires.

So, you dove.

But you had underestimated the trees’ density in this sector. Your ikran’s wing clipped a massive branch, throwing off your trajectory by a fraction of a second, and it was all the automated sensors needed. The AMP suit spun, firing a volley of heavy-caliber rounds into the sky. A hot, tearing agony sliced across your thigh, a bullet graze, and the concussive blast sent your ikran screeching into a spiral.

Your sudden, messy descent completely blew the ground team's cover. The convoy opened fire on the forest blindly. Screams of pain echoed through the comms, cutting through your panic. By the time it all ended, the convoy was destroyed, but the cost to the war party was devastating. Blood soaked your leg wraps but you cared little for it, forcing your ikran into the air, flying back to the Hometree with your chest tightening in suffocating fear and shame.

When you landed in the clearing, the celebratory atmosphere of the past weeks was entirely dead. You scrambled off your mount, wincing as your injured leg buckled slightly, and rushed toward the center, catching sight of him immediately. Neteyam was lifting a huntress off the back of his ikran. Her arm was painted in deep, crimson blood from a horrific wound on her shoulder. It was Tarya.

“Get the medical bay ready! Move!” Neteyam roared, his voice cracking with a raw, terrifying desperation you had never heard from him before. He was covered in soot and someone else's blood, his face a mask of pure, unadulterated fury.

“Neteyam—” you breathed, stepping forward, your hands shaking. “Neteyam, I—I am so sorry. I saw the suit turning toward you, I thought I could—”

Neteyam snapped. He lowered Tarya into the frantic arms of the medical healers, then turned on you so fast his tail whipped the air. He closed the distance between you in two giant, looming strides, towering over you.

“You thought?” he asked, his voice drawing the shocked eyes of every warrior present. “I don’t think so! You are entirely, helplessly obstinate! You almost fell! You almost died, did you even think of that?!”

You flinched, stepping back, but he kept coming, his golden eyes blazing with a dangerous, lethal heat that made you feel incredibly small.

“And because you couldn't follow a single, simple order, these warriors are wounded!” He said in a hard voice, his jaw clenched so hard you could hear his teeth grinding. “Tarya might not survive the night! Do you understand that? Do you even care?”

“I do care!” you cried out, tears of shame finally burning your eyes. “I was trying to protect—”

“You didn’t listen! Like always!” he cut you off, his chest heaving as he glared down at you with complete contempt. “You treat this war like a game to win my attention! You are a massive, childish distraction, Y/N! Everyone knows it, and I am sick of it! Do you think people bleeding out in the mud is a joke? Do you think this war is just another festival for you to play around in?”

The words felt like physical daggers piercing straight into your chest, ripping away at your pride and your confidence. You stood frozen, completely exposed and deeply ashamed in front of the people present. Your mouth opened to apologize again.

“I'm sorry,” you choked out, your voice breaking.

“Save your apologies,” Neteyam said, his voice dropping into a cold, venomous hiss that hurt far worse than his shouting. “If you cannot take this seriously, you should just withdraw from the war efforts entirely. Frankly, your behavior is putting everyone's life on the line.”

He didn't wait for you to answer. He turned his back on you completely, jogging alongside the stretcher as they wheeled his warriors toward the human facilities.

You stood alone in the dirt. You couldn't even feel the throbbing wound on your thigh. The numbness of absolute embarrassment and guilt swallowed you whole. He was right. You had been stupid and childish. You had been playing a dangerous game with people's lives just to hear him say your name.

You didn't seek out the Tsahik. You didn't think you deserved her medicine. Weakly, you dragged yourself back onto your ikran and flew away from the Hometree, heading toward the borders of your own clan's territory. You spent the evening in isolation, using bitter, stinging ocean herbs to tend to your own thigh, weeping silently in the dark. You resolved that you would return to apologize to the wounded warriors, and thinking of doing that is already making you feel flayed.

You had been too confident in your abilities and now, you have put people’s lives on the line. You should be ashamed. He was right about you leaving the war efforts, too, perhaps that was for the better. Because of what happened, you don’t think you still have enough confidence to go out there and fight.

You went to your clan, simply to change clothes, but was welcomed by the heavy grief that befell the people. An honored elder had passed away from natural causes, and by custom, the clan had to gather for the burial rites. Your mother and brother returned from the war front to attend, their faces grim.

After the body was given back to Eywa, your brother found you sitting on a secluded cliffside, staring blankly out at the crashing waves of the Eastern Sea. He sat down beside you, sighing. “I heard of the northern ridge,” he said quietly.

You clutched your knees to your chest, refusing to look at him. “Is Tarya... is she alive?”

“She is. Jake’s human friends saved her. She will recover. The others are okay, too,” your brother assured you, placing a heavy hand on your shoulder. “The war party didn't lose its momentum, sister, if that’s what you’re worried about. But... the injuries could have been prevented. You know this.”

“I know,” you whispered, a tear slipping down your cheek. “I think I should leave, before I put everyone's lives on the line.” You looked up at your brother, your eyes hollow. “I’ll fly back tomorrow. Just to apologize to those who were wounded because of me. And then... I'm coming home.”

Later that evening, you stood inside your mother's yurt, packing away your combat gear. Ikeyni watched you from the entrance, her arms crossed, as you told her what you told your brother, your voice flat and devoid of its usual spark.

“It would be better anyway if I stay back here, Mother,” you said, tying off a leather pouch. “I can act on your behalf with the local hunters. I'm just a bother to the war council over there.”

Ikeyni stared at you, her sharp eyes assessing your rigid posture, your bandaged leg, and the complete lack of confidence in your eyes.

“Whose words are those?” your mother asked softly. “Are they yours?”

You paused, your hands trembling over your gear. You shook your head slowly. “Mother, he was right,” you said, a lump forming in your throat as Neteyam's furious face flashed in your mind. “I wasn't taking the war seriously. I think it would do the council better if I leave. We have plenty of competent riders to do my job. I don't belong there.”

Ikeyni let out a long, heavy sigh. She walked over, placing a firm, warm hand on the nape of your neck, tilting your forehead up to look into her eyes.

“If that is what you truly want, then so be it,” your mother murmured softly, leaning forward to kiss your temple. “But remember who you are, daughter. You are a child of the wind. Do not let one storm ground you forever.”

The journey back to the Omatikaya clan felt different this time. Usually, you would be racing your brother through the clouds, your laughter wild and loud, but today, you simply flew silently behind your mother. When you landed and entered the pavilion, the change in you was loud. Normally, there was always a sharp, teasing smirk ready for whoever caught your eye, but now, your face was barely moving, your eyes fixed on a permanent point in front of you.

The shame was suffocating and it felt like a huge boulder they tied around you. The council proceeded, discussing territory lines and defensive strategies for what felt like hours, while you stood rigid behind your mother, your eyes watching them move pieces on the map, unknowing of Neteyam’s eyes seeking you despite Ikeyni’s body blocking him from sight.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped forward into the light of the pavilion when the elders finally paused. Your voice was flat as you addressed the chieftains and the elders, completely stripped of its usual playful edge. “I want to apologize for the failure of my recent mission. I disobeyed orders, and I take full accountability for the consequences. I am even sorrier that it took me days to stand before you and say this; my clan was laying an elder to rest.“

You took a breath, your hands clasped tightly behind your back so no one could see them shaking.

“As you can see, I am unfit for this council. I lack the discipline required for operations of this scale. Moving forward, I am letting my mother decide on my replacement from the Tayrangi riders.”

A heavy silence descended upon the pavilion.

“Y/N,” Jake Sully spoke first, his deep voice carrying a wave of gentleness that surprised you. He leaned over the table, his eyes soft. “The war party didn't lose its momentum. We took out the convoy. You don't need to pin the blame solely on yourself. This is war. Mistakes happen and warriors are always meant to be wounded.”

Neytiri leaned forward next, her sharp, golden eyes searching your hollow face. “Do I understand what you mean, Ikeyni’ite? Are you leaving the council?”

“Yes,” you nodded, your voice firm.

Your mother stepped into the space beside you, her voice steady and protective, supplementing your words before anyone else could question you. “I have asked her to stay back with the Tayrangi. Ruk’e and I are heavily occupied with the war efforts here, and I need someone I trust to oversee the people.”

“Olo'eykte. Tsakarem.”

The voice cut through the pavilion, low and fractured, making your heart seize painfully in your chest. You didn't want him to speak. You didn't want to look at him.

Neteyam stepped forward from behind his father's shoulder. His posture wasn't stiff with the perfect discipline of a soldier anymore, it looked strained, his shoulders slightly hunched. “I wish to speak,” he said, his eyes locked on you, seeking yours, though you kept your gaze fixed somewhere near his collarbone. “I want to apologize to you, Y/N, before the council, for my reaction days ago. I was angry, and I spoke out of turn. You do not need to leave the council because of it.”

You felt a faint ripple of shock go through you, but it didn't revive your heart. Instead, a fresh wave of mortification washed over you. You felt even more ashamed that he felt obligated to apologize in front of the entire leadership just to close the issue gracefully and maintain alliance peace. To you, him telling you not to leave was just something he was saying for the record, a diplomatic necessity.

“You have nothing to apologize for, warrior, and I have nothing to forgive either,” you said, your voice entirely level, devoid of any anger or spite. It was just empty.

One of the Omatikaya elders turned to your mother. “Ikeyni, is this decision final? We would hate to lose such a skilled asset for the war efforts.”

“Yes,” you answered for her, your tone absolute. Nothing could have changed your mind. “If the council pleases, I excuse myself. I wish to apologize to the warriors who were wounded because of me.”

You were already looking at the door, not catching how Neteyam’s head reared back as if something had clawed at him. Without waiting for a formal dismissal, you turned and walked out of the pavilion, the sudden shift to freedom doing nothing to ease the tightness in your chest.

You walked straight toward the medical areas, knowing you would find the injured split between the Tsahik’s tent and the human facilities. You went to the Tsahik's tent first, stepping into the dim space. When you approached the wounded Omatikaya warriors, your throat tightened, but they easily brushed your apologies off with tired, warm smiles.

“It is no one's fault,” one of them murmured. “We know what we came there for. Being wounded is expected for a warrior.”

When you went to the human facilities, you found Tarya resting in a clean bed, her shoulder heavily bandaged. When you spoke your apologies to her, she reached out to pat your arm. “Do not carry this weight, sister. We are alive. That is what matters.”

The sheer kindness of their forgiveness almost made you cry. A bitter, agonizing thought crossed your mind, wishing Neteyam thinks the same.

But you immediately caught yourself, mentally slapping the thought away. Stop it. You need to stop thinking about what Neteyam thinks or what he doesn't. You knew it would take time. You had liked him for so long, possibly loved him, but that part of your life was over now.

You walked out to the clearing where your ikran was waiting, ready to leave this place behind for good. You were just reaching for her leather harness when heavy, frantic footsteps behind you, hearing your name being called.

You closed your eyes for a brief second before turning around. Neteyam was jogging toward you, breathing heavily. He had asked to leave the council to follow you the exact moment you walked out, but Jake hadn't allowed him to dismiss himself until the meeting officially concluded.

Now, as he stopped a few paces away, you actively turned off your imaginative mind. You completely shut down that part of yourself that used to over-analyze his every breath, forcing yourself not to read into the fact that he looked almost desperate, entirely at a loss for words.

Neteyam's eyes flickered down, and you saw his face almost crumple, a sharp grimace crossing his features at the sight of the cloth bandaging your thigh. You subtly shifted your weight, trying your best to hide the injury behind the wing of your ikran.

His eyes flickeredup to yours, swimming with a quiet, raw desperation you tried your hardest to ignore. “Y/N, please. I am so sorry for what I said in the clearing. I shouldn't have—”

“It’s alright, Neteyam,” you cut him off smoothly, your voice polite and empty. “You were right anyway. Truly, I should be ashamed of my behavior right from the start. I didn't take things as seriously as I should have, and that only proves how unfit I am for the council. So, you see, you were completely right about me leaving—”

“No,” he breathed, the word breaking from him like a gasp. His shoulders fell, and he took a sudden step forward, his hand reaching out.

Unconsciously, your posture tensed, and you took a sharp step backward, pressing yourself closer to the flank of your ikran as if to seek safety.

Neteyam froze. His extended hand trembled in the air before slowly dropping to his side. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, his voice strained with a deep pain that, once again, you forced yourself to ignore.

“I know,” you said quickly, forcing a small chuckle to ease the tension. “Sorry.” You cleared your throat, gesturing vaguely to the sky. “But just as I said, everything has become much clearer to me now. I want to leave before I put more people in danger. Perhaps, I should even thank you for opening my mind about that—”

“No, Y/N, listen to me,” he stepped closer again, his voice rising in an urgent, pleading rush. “I was just... I was so scared for the wounded. I was terrified. And I said things that I shouldn't have said, terrible things—”

“You said things that were true, Neteyam,” you interrupted softly, your face completely calm as you reached up to ruffle the crest of your ikran's head. “And as I said, I am completely cool about them. I accept them, and I understand. You have nothing to apologize for. In truth, it was just a superior delivering valid criticisms that I needed to learn from.”

“I was unnecessarily cruel,” Neteyam burst out, his jaw trembling as he stared at your polite, unbothered expression. “I was unfair of me to pin all the blame on you. Their tracking systems were upgraded, the terrain was bad—I couldn't tell you how much I have regretted my words every second since. Y/N, please... it is I who needs your forgiveness—”

You let out a sigh and Neteyam stopped abruptly, as if your sigh had put a physical gag on him. He watched you, terrified of whatever words were about to leave your mouth.

“Neteyam. It is over and done with,” you said, your voice shifting into a serious, cold finality that left no room for argument. “I have no hard feelings over it whatsoever. Everything you said that day was true. I didn’t listen, and it put people in danger. I was reckless. I was foolish. You were right, so stop insisting you were wrong, because I’ll start thinking this is just your guilt talking. Stand by your words, and let’s leave things be.”

You reached behind you, grabbing your kuru and connecting it swiftly to your ikran's, before fluidly mounting her back, settling into the saddle with a practiced, rigid grace.

Neteyam stood rooted to the dirt. He had stopped breathing. He stared up at you, his chest aching so violently he wished with everything in him that your ikran’s wings wouldn't work. He wished the wind would die. He wished he could reach out, grab the reins, and drag you back down. His heart throbbed with a suffocating mix of guilt, regret, and something far heavier that he couldn't even name.

He had hurt you. He had completely broken your spirit, and it was devastatingly obvious. Sitting on your ikran, you were unrecognizable. The brilliant, chaotic spark was entirely gone. Your playful confidence was buried deep beneath a layer of careful, polite nonchalance.

“Have a good life, Neteyam,” you murmured.

With a sharp click of your tongue, your ikran surged forward, her powerful wings launching you into the open sky.

Neteyam watched you fly away, your form growing smaller and smaller until you were nothing but a speck in the distance. A sharp, physical spasm ripped through his chest, and his golden eyes stung, blurring his vision. His fingers curled into tight, trembling fists, his teeth gritting together so hard he thought they would crack under the pressure.

He had wanted you to take the war seriously. He had wanted you to stop distracting him. But as he stood alone in the empty clearing, looking up at the empty sky, Neteyam realized he had never been more brokenly, horribly distracted in his entire life.

                                                         ₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

The war efforts did not stop just because Neteyam’s world had lost its friction. If anything, the pace of the rebellion quickened after the destruction of the northern convoy. The Omatikaya and their allies pushed the RDA further toward the coastal margins, reclaiming three separate valleys within a single turn of the moon.

Neteyam did his duty with the same cold precision his father had drilled into him since he was old enough to hold a knife. To the common warriors, he was still the golden heir... Unshakable, vigilant, a pillar of the clan along his parents and Mo’at.

But inside his own skin, he was experiencing a slow, suffocating death.

Every hour of every day, his mind raced backward, tracing the bridge he had violently brought down. He missed you with a ferocity that physically brought ache to his gut. It felt like a boulder was placed in his ribs, overcrowding his lungs. Some days, he could barely breathe.

And the worst part was the quiet.

Before his stupidity, every spot of the Hometree was a minefield of your laughter. He had spent months training himself to ignore the sound of that, even though it was the balm to his soul at the end of every exhausting day, the honeyed delivery of your voice, and the way you would lean your shoulder against his, close enough for him to feel the heat radiating from you. He had thought of you as a massive, beautiful distraction. He had braced himself against you like a tree hardening its bark against a persistent storm.

Now, it was just gone. And the silence you left behind was deafening.

Dozens of times during the mid-day meetings, Neteyam would find his head turning instinctively to the left, his eyes scanning the roots or the wooden pillars for a glimpse of your vibrant red paint. At the training grounds, his shoulder would tingle, expecting the sudden touch of your hand.

But there was none.

By the second week, the pressure in Neteyam’s chest grew so immense that he began to lose his grip on his characteristic discipline. He became desperate for any connection to you, any excuse to hear updates from you that he found Ikeyni’s intense focus on war tactics and Ruk’e’s silence very irritating.

Stop talking of war, he thought. Let’s talk about your sister.

So when Ruk’e announced he was flying back to the Tayrangi to retrieve a shipment of leather harnesses and specialized arrows for the coastal hunters, Neteyam didn't even hesitate.

“I will go with you,” he had said, stepping into the ikran roosts before Ruk’e could even clear his mount for takeoff.

Ruk’e had paused, his hand tightening on his reins as he looked at Neteyam. There was no mission along the coast. There was no tactical reason for the commander of the ground forces to waste half a day acting as a pack-beast for supply crates.

“The eastern passes are clear, Sully,” Ruk’e said, his voice carrying that protective, guarded edge that you both possessed. “I do not need an escort.”

“My father wants an updated report on the drafts near the bay,” Neteyam lied, his jaw clenching as he connected his queue to his ikran. His voice was tight, nearly fracturing under the weight of his hidden urgency. “We are moving the division soon. I also need to see the terrain.”

Ruk’e stared at him for a long, heavy moment, reading the dark circles beneath his eyes and the frantic, nervous twitch of his tail. With a slow sigh, Ruk’e nodded silently. The flight to the Eastern Sea was the longest hour of Neteyam’s life. His mind ran through a thousand different scenarios, each one more pathetic than the last. He thought of finding you by the cliff’s edge. He thought of going down on his knees, uncaring of who saw him. He would let you see past his walls. He would let you see that he was nothing but a stupid man who had torn out his own heart stupidly. He was stupid, stupid, stupid.

Your final words had been repeating in his skull like a death chant. Have a good life, Neteyam.

It had sounded like a permanent severance. A final closure. He remembered how, weeks ago, when the realization that you intended to live the rest of your days without ever seeing him again hit him, he nearly doubled over, a physical gasp tearing from his throat as if he had been struck in the gut. Now, as they finally crested the high cliffs of the Tayrangi territory, his hope was crushed into dust. Apparently, you were not around. And he thought he was imagining the smirk that passed Ruk’e’s face.

They were there for close to two hours, gathering everything and securing it on their ikrans. At one point, Neteyam had looked high above and saw the unmistakable, bright red-and-orange span of your ikran’s wings flying down. His heart leaped into his throat, a sudden, violent surge of blood hammering in his ears. He leaned forward, preparing, his mouth already forming your name.

But then, Neteyam watched in absolute horror as your ikran turn back toward the blind side of the cliffs, diving deep into the sea mists until you completely vanished from sight. He looked at his ikran, its recognizable bright blue-green scales... Even from leagues away, you had seen the beast. Even though you didn't really see him, you decided to turn away. Avoiding him. Flying away from him.

Neteyam spent the rest of the supply run standing on the landing platforms, his eyes fixed on the empty horizon, his hands gripping his longbow so tightly his knuckles turned a sickly, pale shade of blue. You never came back up. You stayed hidden in the shadows of the rocks until they had to leave and fly back home to the forest, feeling more like a ghost than a living man.

Many nights later, Neteyam sat on a log near the weapon racks, idly running a whetstone down the edge of his hunting knife when a shadow fell over him. Jake Sully stepped into the light, his large frame blocking out the stars. He watched his eldest son for a quiet minute, taking in the rigid, defensive curve of the his spine.

“You're off your mark, son,” Jake said, his deep voice slicing through the crickets. “During the perimeter check today, you missed three separate trails on the western border. That’s not like you.”

Neteyam didn't look up. He kept his head bowed, the whetstone scraping against the blade. “Just tired, sir. The patrols have been long.”

“It’s not the patrols,” Jake countered gently. He stepped closer, leaning his hip against the weapon rack, his expression softening. “I know what happened after the ridge raid, Neteyam.”

The whetstone stopped.

Neteyam’s hands tried to grip the knife tighter to hide the trembling of his fingers. For the first time in his life, he couldn't hold his mask in place. A small, ragged breath escaped his lips, and when he finally turned his face up to look at his father, Jake blinked sharply from the surprise of seeing Neteyam’s eyes bright with unshed tears.

“I hurt her, Dad,” Neteyam said weakly, his voice breaking. “I was... I was so unnecessarily cruel. I was too stupid, opening my mouth like that. Shouting at her... saying those terrible things.”

He let out a shaky breath, his face crumpling from the sheer, agonizing effort of trying not to cry, but the first tear slipped anyway.

“Have you seen her at the pavillion, Dad?” he asked. “That's not her. That is no longer her because I broke her. I took her spirit and I crushed it with my cruelty. And what’s worse, what is killing me every second, is that she thinks she deserved it. She thinks I was right.” He dropped the knife into the dirt, his hands coming up to cover his face. “I don't know how to turn it all back around. I want her to forgive me. I want her to know... I’d rip my own heart right out of my chest if it means I could take away the pain I gave her.”

Jake let out a long, heavy sigh. His own features crumpled in deep distress for the two of you. He reached down, placing a calloused hand on his son’s trembling shoulder, squeezing tightly. “Have you tried apologizing again? Truly talking to her?”

“No,” Neteyam choked out, pulling his hands away from his face, his eyes red-rimmed from his tears. “I think she doesn't want to see me ever again. I flew to the Tayrangi with Ruk'e last week... and the moment she saw my ikran, she retreated. She dove back into the cliffs... She didn't want to be near me, Dad.”

Jake rubbed the back of his neck, exhaling through his teeth. “Have you tried hiding your ikran from view?”

Neteyam shot his father a miserable, exhausted look. “Dad,” he said, his you're-not-helping tone incredibly obvious. “I don't want to force her. If she wants to be away from me, I... I have to respect that. Even if it kills me.”

“Well,“ Jake said slowly, shifting his weight as he stared out into the dark canopy. “Perhaps you should just give her time... The perfect time to talk to her would probably be when she’s mated and having children with her husband—”

“Dad,” Neteyam’s voice rose and deepened, his head snapping up in sheer horror. The tears on his cheeks dried instantly as his heart did a terrifying, sickening dive into his stomach.

“What?” Jake asked, completely straight-faced, though there was a tiny, knowing glint in his eye. “You're taking too much time, son. Men could swoop in anytime, you know? Especially now. She’s back home, heartbroken, and trying to move on from a stupid boy who is too terrified to admit that he belongs to her. That’s exactly when other men take their chances.”

Neteyam closed his eyes, his breathing turning shallow and fast. For the first time in his twenty-two years of life, he felt a wild, primitive urge to beat his own father up.

It wasn't funny, but he knew that his father wasn’t joking either, and as he sat there, his mind began to spin into a dark spiral of jealousy and terror. He had always known that you liked him, that you had liked him since you were children, but because he had been so focused on his duty, he had never allowed himself to measure the depth of it. He had taken your presence for granted. He had assumed you would always be there, annoying him, teasing him, waiting for him to finally turn around.

But you were a chieftain's daughter. You were a legendary huntress, beautiful, fierce, and wild. He knew exactly how many Tayrangi young men watched you with fierce attraction when you flew. The only reason they had stayed away before was because you were down here, making a public nuisance of yourself over the Omatikaya heir.

Now, you were back home. Heartbroken and vulnerable.

Neteyam’s fingers curled into tight fists against his knees, his jaw clenching so hard his teeth groaned under the pressure. The thought of another warrior touching your hand, the thought of another man making you laugh, or seeing that brilliant, wicked smirk return to your face, made his blood run thick.

“She is the daughter of the Olo’eykte,” Neteyam muttered, his voice dropping into a low register. “She would not just choose anyone.”

“No, she wouldn't,” Jake agreed softly. “But she will choose eventually, Neteyam. And right now, you're letting her believe she is better off without you.”

Jake turned away, leaving Neteyam to sit with the desperate fire that had lit inside him. He had broken your spirit, yes. But he would be damned if he let another man be the one to fix it.

With this new fire in him, Neteyam returned to the Tayrangi three more times over the following weeks, armed with a bag of increasingly flimsy excuses. The first time, he claimed his father needed a precise audit of the coastal clan's surplus ikran armor. The second time, he practically forced himself onto a tracking detail meant to map the migration patterns of the sturmbeast herds near the Tayrangi territories. By the third time, he was carrying a bundle of forest herbs from Mo’at that Tayrangi healers hadn't even asked for.

Yet, three times, you managed to dodge him completely.

It was maddening. It felt as though someone was deliberately feeding you a schedule of his arrivals and departures. Every time his blue-green ikran broke through the coastal fog, you were already gone, out on a hunt, or patrolling the northern borders. He even began to suspect your brother, Ruk’e, was secretly warning you through some hidden signal, but he knew for a fact that the man had no way of communicating with you.

You were simply anticipating him. You were treating him like an incoming storm, closing your doors and retreating into a safe place before the first drop of rain could touch you.

By the fourth visit, Neteyam had reached his absolute limit. He didn't bring an escort, and he didn't use the main landing platforms. He left his ikran tethered half a league away, hidden in a dense thicket, and trekked up the rocky coastal paths on foot, his chest heaving, his heart hammering against his ribs. He was taking his father’s advice now, though he really hated the thought of surprising you.

He caught you by pure accident near the lower tide pools, where the cliffs formed a secluded cove. You were alone, repairing a frayed net, your long legs tucked beneath you on the smooth stone.When his shadow fell over you, you snapped your head up. For a second, your eyes widened in genuine, startled surprise. But the shock vanished, replaced instantly by that smooth mask of careful, polite nonchalance that made Neteyam’s stomach twist into a painful knot.

“Neteyam,” you said, your voice casual, but your fingers tightened so hard around the wooden netting needle. You made no move to stand, looking up at him as if he were nothing more than a passing trader. “What brings you here? Do you need help with anything, or were you sent here?”

You spoke the words with an easy, detached courtesy, even though your entire posture screamed that you wanted to be anywhere else but in front of him.

Neteyam closed the distance between you, his strides long and desperate. He didn't care about his dignity anymore. He didn't care that he was the commander of the ground forces or the son of Toruk Makto. He stopped just two paces away from you, his breath hitching as his eyes immediately swept down to your thigh. The bandage was gone, replaced by a white scar where the bullet had grazed you.

The sight of it made his throat tighten with a fresh wave of suffocating guilt.

“I wasn't sent, Y/N,” he said, his voice dropping into a low, fractured register. He took a half-step forward, his hands twitching at his sides, wanting so desperately to reach out but forcing himself to stay back. “I came because of you. I came because I want to talk to you. I... I cannot sleep, I cannot breathe, and I—”

You let out a sharp, sudden breath, dropping the netting needle into your lap. The polite facade finally cracked, and you stood up, your tail whipping the air behind you in a sudden flash of genuine irritation.

“Aren’t we over this, Neteyam?” you snapped, your eyes narrowing as you glared up at him. “We discussed this already. I thought we agreed to get past it.”

“Y/N, please—”

“No, listen to me,“ you cut him off, your voice rising, hard and sharp. “If this is about your guilt, you can lay it down. I told you before, I have nothing to forgive. I accepted your words because they were true. But if you are going to keep coming here with more pathetic apologies and diplomatic reassurances, you are actually going to make me angry.” You stepped closer. “I told you to stand by your words. If you cannot back your own words, Neteyam, I would be deeply disappointed. You are going to lead your clan one day, and an Olo'eyktan’s words must be solid as stone. If you are this fickle with your own tongue, how can anyone trust you?“

“That is the problem!” He said pointedly, his voice cracking with a raw, agonizing emotion as he grabbed your hand, his fingers locking around your wrist before you could pull away, his grip desperate but fiercely tender. “I regret my words, I regret them every single second of every day—”

You tried to wrench your wrist free, but he held fast, his eyes blazing down into yours with a terrifying, weeping intensity.

“I know I cannot take them back,” he breathed, his chest heaving as he stared into your eyes. “I know I cannot magically wipe away the pain I inflicted on you, and I know I cannot just hand you back the confidence that I shattered, but I will work on my hands and knees to bring you back to who you used to be. I will do whatever it takes, Y/N. I swear it to the Great Mother.”

You stopped pulling against his grip, your frame going completely rigid. A bitter huff escaped you, “I don't like who I used to be,” you whispered, and his head moved as if you’d slapped him. “And you said it yourself that day, you don't like it either. You said you were sick of it. You said I was a massive, childish distraction—”

“I was a fool!” he cried, his voice breaking completely. “I was terrified for the warriors, but most of all, I was terrified for you. When you fell from the sky... I thought I lost you. I let my fear turn into venom, and I threw it at the one person who didn't deserve it.”

You stared at him, your jaw tight, your breathing ragged. For a second, just a fraction of a second, Neteyam thought he saw a flicker of the old warmth that used to belong entirely to him. But then, your expression hardened again.

“It doesn't matter why you said it, Neteyam,” you said, your voice flat. “The fact remains that your assessment was correct. I was reckless, and I put lives at risk. Your cruelty was just the mirror I needed to see myself clearly. Now, let go of me. I have nets to mend."

Neteyam’s fingers slowly uncurled, his arm dropping to his side as if it had been cut. You didn't give him another glance, you simply sat back down on the rock, picked up your wooden needle, and began weaving the fibers with steady, unbothered precision.

That day was completely unproductive for him. He spent the remaining hours sitting on a boulder a few paces away, watching you work in absolute silence. You didn't speak to him again. You didn't look at him. You treated him like a piece of rock, completely ignoring his presence until the sun began to dip and he was forced to hike back to his ikran, his heart heavier than when he had arrived.

Neteyam did not give up. In fact, his failure only made him more relentless.

He began flying between the Omatikaya and the Tayrangi almost every single day, uncaring of the brutal, grueling transit on top of his patrols, trainings, and war meetings. He would wake up before the first light of dawn, complete his mandatory border patrols, and then immediately push his ikran through the treacherous mountain drafts just to spend an hour or two on the cliffs.

He became a desperate fixture in your clan. He didn't care how it looked to your people. He didn't care that they watched with raised eyebrows and murmurs of amusement as the proud Omatikaya heir practically degraded himself for a glimpse of their chieftain's daughter. He didn’t know how to fully show you how sorry he is, and how sorry he will be for the rest of his life, so he started with the absolute surrender of his pride.

If you were out in the lower fields gathering ocean kelp for the healers, Neteyam would appear beside you to help without a word. He would haul the heavy, water-logged crates onto his shoulders, carrying them up the steep cliff paths so you wouldn't have to. You would tell him to leave, your voice sharp with annoyance, but he would simply set his jaw, and go back down for another load.

When you were assigned to clean and grease the riding saddles, he would sit on the floor opposite you, taking the rough scraping stones out of your hands. He would spend hours working the stiff leather until his fingers blistered, quiet despite the clear annoyance and suffocating silence you serve him. Some days, you wouldn't even show yourself, your people telling him you went to patrol or hunted, leaving him sitting alone on the rocky ledges for hours.

But he always came back the next day.

One evening, after a particularly brutal afternoon where you had completely ignored his existence while he helped the elders fix something, he caught you as you walked back toward your family's yurt. The sky was a bruised purple, and the bioluminescence was casting a soft light across your face.

He called out your name, his voice light despite the clear exhaustion on his face. He looked terrible, his shoulders were bruised from hauling timber, but there was still the sharp, military crispness of his posture despite the air of a man who was running on nothing but sheer desperation.

You stopped, but you didn't turn around to face him. “Go home, Neteyam. Take the war seriously instead of spending so much of your time here. Your father needs you.”

“My father has other warriors,” Neteyam said, stepping closer. “I will not stop. I will come here every day. I will carry every basket, I will mend every net, I will bleed on these rocks until I’ve proven myself to you.”

You finally turned your head, looking over your shoulder at him. Your face was half-hidden in the shadows, but your eyes were fixed on him.

“You are wasting your time,” you said, though your voice devoid of its usual malice, carrying only a profound, weary sadness. “The girl who would have been happy with all of these is gone, Neteyam. Even I couldn’t bring her back. You cannot bring back something that no longer exists.”

His breath hitched, the words hitting him harder than any physical blow from his father’s training sessions. His ears pinned flat against his head, but he took a deep breath, lowering himself on his knees in front of you. You silently gasped, watching the proud, golden boy of the Omatikaya, who had been raised to hold his head high, lowering himself in the dirt of the Tayrangi cliffs.

“Then who is she now?“ he asked quietly. “Would you let me meet her?” he pleaded, looking up at you soulfully, his chest heaving. “If she is a stranger, then let me earn her. Let me learn the way she breathes, the way she speaks, what makes her laugh now. I do not care if it takes the rest of my life. I will build a bridge over whatever ocean you put between us.”

You looked down at him, your eyes tracing his bruised shoulders, the raw, blistered skin on his fingers, and the deep shadows under his eyes. He looked so tired, what with his duties back home and the tasks he’s killing himself to do here, only to be ignored by you.

“You are a fool, Neteyam,” you murmured softly.

“I am,” he agreed instantly, his eyes tired but fiercely intense. “I am a fool who took you for granted and hurt you, who took too long to realize that my world has no tilt on its axis if you don’t belong in it.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. For many moons, you had kept your heart behind an impenetrable wall of ice, convincing yourself that what had happened broken something inside you that could never be mended. But looking at him now, no armor to break nor wall to climb, and entirely surrendered at your feet, a terrifyingly familiar warmth threatened to crack the frost.

You stepped around him, your tail flicking with a wave of mixed emotions. “The elders need the nets mended by first light tomorrow,” you said, not looking back as you pulled open the flap of your yurt. “If you are going to bleed on our rocks, you might as well make yourself useful.”

You left him outside and he watched the flap shut close with a twinkle in his eyes that hadn’t been there in moons. He let out a long breath, staying on his knees for a moment longer. A fierce, protective spark reignited in his chest. That wasn’t exactly forgiveness, but you had indirectly told him not to leave and tend to the nets, a complete opposite of how you’d pushed him away every single day in the past moons.

He’s not confident yet, but it was a crack in your armor.

Standing up, he wiped the dust from his knees, his eyes watching the flap with tangible longing, before deciding to walk down toward the docks where the torn nets lay waiting.

Days turned into weeks, and Neteyam’s presence in the cliffs before the first light ever crested the horizon has become a constant view. You were drinking your morning tea on a higher ledge when you saw him trekking up the hill, his ikran stubbornly left in a hidden thicket half a league away even though you’d stop avoiding him or fleeing away at the sight of his ikran. You’d seen where he hids his ikran and knew that he had to trek the rocky, miles-long paths on foot before he could even reach your home.

“You should have just brought your mount here instead of trekking that much distance,” you casually said.

He stared at you, as if surprised that you’d suggest that. “Maybe... Maybe tomorrow,” he replied.

Your eyes narrowed at how he was uncharacteristically wearing his warrior cummerbund. It was a gear he wears during missions, but one he rarely wore for casual labor. On top of that, he also looked too pale for your liking, his skin lacking its usual vibrance and his lips almost as white as sea foam.

“Did you come straight here from a mission?“ you probed and he immediately shook his head.

“Just patrol,” he answered, his voice a little gravelly.

Your eyes narrowed, refusing to press for more answers but you watched him almost the entire time, silently going straight to work, lifting heavy timber, hauling supply crates, and helping grease the stiff riding saddles of your clan’s riders. It was past mid-day when he finished, just in time for him to get back for the council meeting, if their schedule is still the same as you remembered.

You caught him just as he was walking down the mountain path. “Neteyam,” you called out.

He turned around immediately and you saw the slight sway that followed that sudden movement, which he tried to mask by shifting his weight.

“You should eat before you go,” you said, keeping your voice even. “I haven’t eaten yet, too... Only if you’d like,” you added.

A look of pure surprise crossed over his pale face. For a second, he just stared at you, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. The exhaustion weighing him down seemed to lift, replaced by a twinkle in his eyes that made you almost smile. Thank Eywa, you were able to stop yourself!

“I... I would like that,” he murmured, his voice soft.

He walked back with you into the communal yurt, aware of your people’s eyes tracking your movements. After all, this was the first time you actually invited him in for anything, knowing how their imaginative minds have long came up with stories of their own to explain the presence of the Toruk Makto’s heir in the Tayrangi.

He sat across from you and you noted how slow he seemed to be moving, having known how efficient he usually is, so you handed him a bowl of steaming soup and a plate of honeyed roasted fish that you’ve already cut into bite-sized pieces. His eyes were heavy on you that your skin seemed to tingle at your every move, too conscious of yourself knowing that he’s watching you.

Your eyes snapped to his, your brow rising. “Eat. The food will go cold,“ you said.

He nodded, redirecting his attention on his food. Despite the pain on his side, a sense of profound peace seemed to settle over him. He was sitting across from you, eating your food, sharing your space. He was so glad he perservered to go today. Whatever agony pokes at him under his tight cummerbund was a cheap price to pay for this single moment with you.

When the bowl was completely empty, he placed it down with meticulous care, waiting for you to finish without speaking, but halfway your meal, your eyes snapped up to his.

“You can go, if you wished,” you said casually.

“Believe me, I do not wish to be anywhere but here,” he replied. “I knew I would have to wait, you were always a slow-eater.”

Your lips pushed forward. He knows that. You tilted your head to brush it off. “I’ve grown faster since I became a huntress,” you retorted.

“Hm. I wish I can see it,” he said, his voice laced with humor.

You stuffed the rest of your food into your mouth, chewing non-stop as your cheeks filled with food bubbling like a syaksyuk eating utumauti. A snort escaped him as he watches you, one that turned into a genuine laugh, though it was cut short, his ears twitching and his jaw tightening as he suppressed a grimace.

“Why?” you asked, your voice muffled by the food in your mouth. He looked like he was pained.

He shook his head, leaning forward with his elbows on the low table. He handed you a bowl of water. “Slow down, syaksyuk, or you’ll choke...”

He chuckled when you rolled your eyes before ccepting the water he offered, continuously chewing. Once you were finished, you finally spoke, “You should get moving,” you said softly, reaching over to stack his empty bowl onto your plate. “If you are late for the council meeting, they might think that Toruk Makto’s heir lacks discipline. We don’t want that.”

Neteyam let out a quiet sigh, the humor fading into a weary but profoundly content expression. He slowly pushed himself up from the ground, a sharp, involuntary gasp escaping his teeth before his hand flew to his ribs, but he quickly converted the movement into a stretch. He looked down at you with a lingering fondness.

“Thank you for the meal,” he said softly. “I must head to the council now. I will... I will be back tomorrow. With my ikran, if you meant what you said.”

You went to stand, following him out of the communal space to walk him only until the ledge. “Take care...” you whispered in the wind as you watched him go. Your eyes narrowed, noting how unusually heavy his steps were. He really looked remarkably weak.

You figured you'd ask him tomorrow, but your suspicion was answered much sooner than you expected. In the dead of night, Ruk’e quietly entered your yurt, his expression unusually grave.

“Pack your weapons,” he said, his voice low. “The war council needs you back urgently. The RDA is pushing the western flank, and they need every competent ikran rider back in the air.” He paused for a moment before adding, “Mother agrees it is time.”

He left out the part where Jake Sully himself spoke with him. What you didn't know was that back at the Omatikaya hometree, Neteyam had fallen ill through the night. Yesterday, during a swift ambush on an RDA scout unit, a stray shrapnel had torn into his midriff. It was just a minor injury that required only bed rest, but Neteyam had completely ignored the Tsahik's orders. He had wrapped it tightly, hidden it beneath his cummerbund, and flown straight to the Tayrangi to help haul your clan's imports.

When he returned to the forest, he could barely stand. His wound was bleeding beneath his cummerbund, and his body hot with fever.

Now, he lay on a mat in the Tsahik’s tent, practically delirious. Neytiri sat near him, her tail whipping in a furious frenzy as she scolded him. “You went to the Tayrangi? What did you even do there that you’d managed to have your flesh torn open?! Have you lost your mind, Neteyam?!”

Through the haze of his fever, Neteyam weakly opened his eyes. “Mother... it’s fine. I am fine. Just... do not tell her. She wants me to bring... My ikran tomorrow...” his mouth formed into a lazy smile.

“What?!” Neytiri cried out, her voice breaking in panic. “Neteyam, you could barely open your eyes, and you're flying back there again to do only the Great Mother knows what?!“

“Mother, it’s okay,” he muttered, brushing her hands away.

Jake stepped into the tent, his large hand resting on his wife's shoulder to calm her, though he himself was worried. “You can't do this to yourself, boy. You're going to kill yourself before the RDA even gets a chance to.”

Neteyam let out a long, ragged sigh, his eyes closed. “Have you ever had someone be your entire world, Dad?” he whispered, his voice laced with contentment. “We ate together earlier... And it felt like my entire world was narrowed down on that table... With her sitting across from me. I don't think... I don't think I can miss a single day not seeing her. If I stop showing up... She will think I gave up.”

Neytiri’s fury slowly melted away, her face falling as she watched her son finally drift into a deep, feverish sleep. She turned to Jake and his eyes snapped to her, sharing a look of understanding.

The next morning, you walked with mother and brother to the war pavilion. You had flown back with Ruk’e at dawn, your mind focused on the reports Ruk’e has told you, but some parts of you were thinking about how Neteyam would react seeing you back in the council. Now, he wouldn't have to exhaust himself flying from the forest to the Eastern Coast.

The council welcomed you, asking you about things back home and slowly easing the current climate regarding the sky people into the conversation. You assured them your brother has told you and that you know what you came here for. You turned to the pavilion’s entrance when you heard an entourage enter, freezing at the sight you saw.

Neteyam entered first, his midriff wrapped with a medical woven fabric, and there was an unmistakable fresh smear of blood already blooming through the center of the cloth. He looked very pale. His head casually snapped to your direction, and the absolute shock on his face mirrored your own. Written on his forehead was a huge why are you here?

He instinctively took a half-step backward, his tail twitching as if he wanted to flee the pavilion entirely rather than let you see him like this. But Jake was standing directly behind him. His father placed a firm, unyielding hand on his shoulder, gently prompting him forward into the room. Neteyam swallowed hard, forced his chin up, and continued walking as if everyone in the pavilion didn’t witness his panic at the sight of you.

Well, it’s not like these people are oblivious to his daily trips to the Tayrangi. They had known, it’s only that they didn’t know exactly what for though they had a hunch. And now, he practically confirmed it. He was persistently going there for you.

Meanwhile, the pieces in your mind instantly fell into place. His paleness yesterday, the cummerbund, the obvious weariness... He had been bleeding out while lifting things that normally needed the strength of two men.

“Thank you all for gathering so quickly,” Jake began, clearing his throat as he addressed the elders. “I spoke with Ikeyni and Ruk’e yesterday. We have expanded our flight perimeters, and we drastically need our most skilled ikran riders back in the vanguard. Y/N has agreed to step back into her role.”

As the chieftains murmured their approval, the briefing began. You forced your mind to focus, stepping up to the map table to report on the coastal movements. “The Tayrangi borders are currently stable,” you said, your voice serious and level. “We ran three separate scouts and extended it along the northern reef daily. So far, it's untouched.”

You reached across the wide table for a wooden marker to illustrate the scout lines, but your fingers missed it by a few inched. Before you could lean forward again, a hand moved into your field of vision.

Neteyam picked up the marker for you.

As he extended his arm, a subtle flinch crossed his features. His jaw clenched so hard the muscles in his neck strained, the simple effort of reaching across the table obviously hurt him. But when his golden eyes turned to meet yours, the pain vanished behind a cool mask of a hardened warrior. He stared at you with an intense, unblinking focus that made your face feel incredibly hot.

The silence stretched for a beat too long. Jake cleared his throat loudly, and from the corner of the pavilion, Lo'ak let out a highly audible, mocking snicker.

You quickly tore your gaze away, your cheeks burning. “Thanks...” you muttered, looking at the map through your lashes.

“You're welcome,” Neteyam drawled, his voice low and smooth despite the sweat glistening on his brow.

You bit your lip, your cheeks still burning as you forced your voice to level to continue your report. The moment the council was dismissed, Neteyam stayed back, lingering by his father's side to converse with the elders. He was very obviously trying to avoid leaving the pavilion at the same time as you.

But you weren't going to let him escape. You walked out with your arms crossed and waited right outside the entrance, your eyes already narrowed into slits. When Neteyam finally emerged, he stopped dead in his tracks. Seeing you standing there like a warden, he took a breath and adjusted his posture, walking toward you with every ounce of military bravado he could muster, desperately trying to hide the slight limp in his stride. The red stain on his white bandage had grown wider.

“What is that?” you demanded without so much as a greeting, gesturing sharply to his torso.

Neteyam stopped two paces away, his expression carefully neutral as he looked away toward the trees. “Just a minor injury from the recent mission. It is nothing.”

“You got shot?” you pressed, stepping closer, your voice rising in genuine disbelief.

“It's a shrapnel,” he corrected quickly as if that made it all better.

“Great! An iron slug tore through your side, and you still came to the coast yesterday? You still did the heavy lifting? You still hiked miles on foot to your ikran?!”

“It was just small,” he lied smoothly, though his breathing was shallow.

“Then why is it actively bleeding?!“ your voice rose slightly.

“It just got strained yesterday, but it’s nothing serious—”

“Are you insane?!” you huffed, your anger finally boiling over. “My father died from a small wound and left my mother a widow, Neteyam! You are not thinking! You have a responsibility to this war, to your family, to your people! How can you preach to me about discipline and taking things seriously when you are out there compromising your own body for something so small?!”

Neteyam listened to your tirade, his ears pinning back slightly against his head. But he didn't flinch away from your fury, instead, he watched you with that stupidly twinkling eyes. He took a step closer, the hardened soldier completely melting away to reveal the raw, aching man underneath.

“What are you calling small? Your forgiveness? Your attention? The chance I was asking for from you? It’s not small to me, Y/N. It is everything to me... And right now, it is all that is holding me together,” he said softly, his golden eyes locking onto yours with a terrifying intensity.

“Must you really put yourself at risk like that?” you cried, throwing your hands up in exasperation.

He groaned, closing his eyes momenyarily, when you could no longer hold your tears back. You are so scared right now, so worried for him, it’s not even funny.

“Just let me, alright? I said I will do everything to earn the right to at least be near you again, and this is me standing by my words. Like what you told me to do,“ he said, his voice cracking under the weight of his conviction. He stepped into your space, ignoring the sharp twinge in his side. “I told you, I will do whatever it takes. I did not want to miss a single day of trying to show you that I will show up. Even if I am bleeding, even if you do not look at me, I will be there.”

You stared at him, your breath catching in your throat. The sheer, stubborn idiocy of his devotion was infuriating, but beneath the anger, that stubborn wall of ice around your heart suffered another massive, catastrophic crack.

“Well, you don't have to do all that anymore,” you said, looking down at his bleeding bandage, your tone softening into something weary. “I am back on the council now. I will be here in the forest. You don't need to fly to the coast for me.”

“It does not change anything,” Neteyam countered instantly. He reached out, his hand hovering near your arm, close enough for you to feel the heat of his fever, though he refrained from touching you. “Just because you are back in the pavilion does not mean I am done. I will still work for your forgiveness, Y/N. I will still do everything in my power until you can look at me and trust me the way you used to. I am not stopping.”

You looked up at him, your mouth slightly open, completely at a loss for words. You mouth opened again to retort, but before you could even speak, a sudden, frantic rustling erupted from the pavilion entrance. Lo’ak came scrambling out, his limbs flailing wildly as he tried to prevent himself from falling into the dirt.

You and Neteyam quickly turned to him, only to get surprised to see not just Lo’ak, but an entire audience: Jake, Neytiri, Ikeyni, and Ruk’e. They were all standing completely still, their expressions a mix of profound interest and varying degrees of amusement. But because Lo’ak had tripped and completely blown their cover, the privacy shattered instantly.

Ikeyni was the first to recover, clearing her throat with a loud, entirely performative cough. “Ah... Ruk'e, we must go and inspect the riders at the vanguard. Immediately.“

Neytiri smoothed down her braids, her sharp eyes twinkling as she looked anywhere but at her eldest son. “Ah, and I must find Tuk. We have... things to gather. Many things.“

Jake offered a highly unconvincing nod, clapping a hand on a thoroughly embarrassed Lo’ak’s shoulder. “Right. And I have an urgent meeting with the elders about... perimeter lines.”

“I am hungry,” Ruk’e announced flatly to the sky, ignoring the fact that he had consumed a massive breakfast less than an hour ago.

Lo’ak let out a low whistle, backing away alongside the adults. Within three seconds, the entire crowd had vanished, leaving you two alone.

You turned back to Neteyam, your ears pinning flat against your head as you glared at him, trying desperately to mask the raging blush creeping up your neck. “You need to go see the Tsahik. Right now. You are bleeding through your bandage.”

Neteyam nodded, but he didn't move. He stayed standing there, towering over you, watching your fiery exasperation with a soft, maddening look of pure adoration. You groaned, a sound of defeat tearing from your throat.

Reaching out, you firmly grabbed his wrist and began dragging him yourself toward the Tsahik’s tent. “Move, you stubborn man,” you muttered. You figured you wanted to see exactly how small this wound actually was.

When you pulled him into the warmth of the Tsahik’s tent, Mo’at didn't look even remotely surprised to see you practically hauling the clan's golden heir by his arm.

“Ah, and he returns,” Mo’at remarked dryly, setting down a bowl of poultice. “Did I not tell you last night, Neteyam, when you came home violently ill and shaking with fever, that your flesh would tear? Look at this!”

With practiced, firm hands, she unclipped the medical wrap. When the bloody fabric fell away, your breath hitched, and you winced sharply.

The wound was not small. It was an angry tear about as long as your pinky finger, stretching deep into the muscle of his side, the edges raw and weeping fresh blood from where he had strained it.

“You are a liar,” you hissed, the fear in your chest turning into a surge of anger. You reached out and forcefully pinched his shoulder. “You said it was small!”

Neteyam’s hand instantly shot up, his fingers gently trapping yours against his shoulder. His twinkling eyes locked onto yours, completely unbothered by the pinch, and he flashed a rare smile that showed his pearly whites. It was so genuine, so disarming, that the hot anger in your chest simmered down into a helpless flutter.

“There is nothing to worry about, Y/N,” he murmured softly. “I’ve had worse before.”

You merely hissed at him in response, pulling your hand back.

Mo’at wiped the blood away and applied a fresh layer of soothing poultice, wrapping the midriff with tight, clean linen. Once finished, she stood up, turning her sharp gaze directly onto you. “Y/N, I am entrusting this hard-headed man to you. He does not listen to me, to his mother, or to his father. He needs strict bed rest. That wound will never close if he keeps moving and straining himself.”

You nodded with absolute solemnity, crossing your arms. “You can trust me, Tsahik. I will personally castrate this man if he even thinks about lifting a finger.”

Mo’at let out a rare, breathy chuckle, shaking her head as she gathered her bowls and exited the tent, leaving the two of you alone.

You turned to him. “Sleep,” you hissed.

“Alright, alright,” he mumbled, a soft chuckle escaping him as he sank into the furs with a weary sigh, his eyes half-closed as he looked up at you through his lashes. “No need for castration... that would make you miss your babies...”

The last words were a barely audible, sleepy whisper, but the tent was so quiet that they rang like a bell in your ears. “What?!” you snapped, your entire face exploding in a violent heat.

Neteyam just smiled lazily, turning his head onto the fur pillow. “Sleeping now...”

True to your word, you made sure he took his rest. For the next week, you refused to let him leave the Tsahik’s tent unless necessary, sitting by his side, forcing him to eat, and threatening him with your dagger whenever he tried to sit up too fast.

But once his fever broke and the wound finally closed into a healthy, silver seam, he went back to waiting at your feet, and he became entirely shameless. He would bring you the sweetest fruits before morning drills, sharpen your arrow tips and hunting dagger, and sit quietly beside you during meals, completely content just to exist in the same space. He was still the same as before. There was no pushing or demanding, only working to seamlessly wove himself into your daily routines.

If you are to be asked when exactly did the remaining ice around your heart melted, you’d say it had turned into a puddle long ago. But now, as the Hometree came alive with the people singing and dancing to celebrate a turn of successful hunts, your chest was singing with a familiar hum. One you never thought you’d feel again. You stood near the outer roots, watching the dancers, when a familiar warmth bloomed at your side.

Neteyam stood beside you, wearing his formal warrior gear. He didn’t speak, but his hand hung loosely between you, his fingers inches from yours. You bit your lip, looking at his profile through your lashes, noting his sharp jawline and his beautiful patterns. It was the same image of the boy you swore to make fall in love with you. You wondered what thirteen-year-old you would have thought if she knew that this man literally bled into the dirt just to prove he wouldn't give up on you.

You let out a soft, long sigh. Slowly, deliberately, you moved your hand to intertwine your fingers with his.

Neteyam froze. His head snapping down to look at your joined hands, and when he lifted his eyes to yours, they were bright, watering. “Y/N...” he breathed, his voice trembling.

“What?” you whispered, a soft, familiar smirk finally returning to your lips. “Some would say this is the perfect time for a kiss... Unless you’re scared,” you mumbled.

He blinked, his forehead creasing for a moment before a ragged, breathless laugh escaped him. It was you who moved and tiptoed to press a soft kiss on his lips, and you felt his arm wrap around you, pulling you closer, kissing you better. You smiled against his lips.

“I forgive you, Neteyam...” you pulled away only to murmur, and he chased your lips.

“I love you...“ he murmured, pressing his forehead against yours. The sheer, unadulterated happiness radiating from him was intoxicating, and you cannot help but grin.

But the beautiful moment was violently ripped away when a deafening horn blew, shattering the festival music and the celebration.

“Fire! Fire! Fire!” The people announced.

High above, in the eastern branches of the Hometree’s canopy, a terrifying orange glow erupted. Your breath seized at your chest, a cry of panic escaping you as the people frantically ran to and fro in all directions. Neteyam moved, signaling to the nearby hunters.

“All hunters! Gather water from the river! Move!” he roared, crisp and authoritative.

The communal clearing exploded into calculated chaos. You and Neteyam sprinted toward the lower roots, organizing lines of warriors to haul water containers up the massive vines, while flyers are gathering water from the river to splash it to extinguish the fire. At first, everyone thought it was an accident, but as the smoke cleared, a familiar deep thrumming vibrated through the air.

From the clouds, the shapes of sever RDA gunships dropped into view firing blindly into the canopy.

“To the air!” Jake’s booming voice echoed.

You and Neteyam sprinted to the high roosts, connecting to your ikrans in a synchronized flash of movement and flying into the open sky where the warriors on their ikrans were already fighting fiercely. You dove through the smoke to shoot pilots and sent arrows to the exposed underbellies of gunships you happen to get close to. Within an hour, the invading gunships were spiraling into the jungle in balls of fire.

You watched the fire it caused to the forest, your chest aching with fury and grief at the sight of it.

The war party was victorious, but the destruction it brought made all of you grim. The eastern branches of Hometree were charred black, but it didn’t burn the entirety, and fortunately, no one was dead or gravely injured.

The council convened immediately beneath the glowing roots, the air thick with tension.

“It is no longer safe to keep the children and the elders here. Hometree is too big a target,“ Jake said, his face shadowed by the firelight as he leaned over the map.

“We must relocate... for the meantime,” Neytiri agreed, her voice tight with grief.

“The Hallelujah Mountains. It’s filled of magnetic interference, their metal birds wouldn’t like it very much up there,” Neteyam spoke up, placing a stone on a specific grid of the map.

Jake nodded decisively. “We’ll send scouts, then we’ll evacuate those who cannot fight immediately. The warriors will stay on the ground to secure the perimeter and prepare our counter-strike.”

The plan was drawn swiftly. Jake didn’t want to wait longer. As soon as the clan is evacuated, the party will strike back. As you ordered some Tayrangi men to help with the evacuation, Neteyam caught your arm near the edge of the pavilion, his grup firm and his eyes holding a fierce, protective spark in them.

“After... After the battle is over...” he began, his eyes blinking too many times per second as he stammered for the right words to say.

“Hm?“ you prompted.

“Would you like...“ he trailed. “To have me as your mate?” he added, his words stumbling over one another, and even in the dark, you could see how his cheeks were tinted purple.

You blinked, your heart jumping at your throat, causing it to close as your eyes stung with hot tears. “How could I ever say no to that?” you said in a hoarse voice, your hand holding his firmly.

He pulled you close. “Yes?” he asked breathlessly and you nodded. His breath audibly caught in his throat, leaning forward to kiss you and pulling you even closer to deepen his kiss.

Neteyam broke the kiss reluctantly, his forehead resting against yours for one final, desperate second as the chaos of evacuation whirled around you two. He held your face in his hands, pressing another deep kiss. “Great Mother. I love you so much...”

You chuckled, gripping his forearm. “Glad you’ve finally caught up,“ you mumbled, giving him a peck.

“I have always been here, I was just stupid,” he chuckled, his eyes caressing your face.

The tender moment shattered, though, when a loud cough echoed from the shadows. Neteyam stiffened, and you pulled back just enough to see your brother stepping into the dim light. He had his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes narrowed at Neteyam that practically shouted an order to let you go this exact second.

Neteyam cleared his throat, his hands slowly lowering, though he kept his fingers loosely holding your hip for just a heartbeat longer before fully stepping back. You bit your lip, stopping yourself from smiling as you took Neteyam’s hand to hold it. Ruk’e looked at you with a look that would normally be accompanied with a snort.

“Mother is looking for you. Right now. She says the Tayrangi scouts need their final instructions for the eastern ridge, and you're the only one who knows the layout of the lower caves.”

You pushed your lips forward. “I'm on my way,” you said, turning to Neteyam and tiptoeing to kiss him again. You bit his lower lip before pulling away, patting his chest. “Later.“

You turned away, your tail moving behind you, its hairy tip brushing his lower abdomen. You heard his gasp and you grinned as you walked away. You brought this small pocket of joy as your ikran perched on a cliff along with the others, waiting for the signal to fight. Neteyam was several ikrans away from you, although Toruk’s big head was almost hiding him from sight. He caught your gaze, giving you a fierce, sharp nod.

The signal came not from a horn, but from the unnatural tremor of distant explosions. War cries from your people and from the warriors from various clans erupted as hundreds of ikran took to the sky.

You plunged off the ledge, diving straight into the smoke. Your ikran, holding a large boulder in its hind legs, flew over a gunship’s rotors and threw the boulder with a force that tilted the gunship before it exploded into a ball of orange flame. You banked hard, narrowly dodging a volley of gunfire directed at you.

You pulled your ikran’s reins up, pulling the string of your bow before releasing an arrow through the glass of the gunship pursuing you. You watched the vehicle spin wildly, clipping another gunship before exploding into the nearest floating mountain. A sharp war cry tore from your throat, raising your bow before flying higher.

Below, you found Neteyam, riding with the reckless bravery of Toruk Makto himself, but with the terrifying precision of Neytiri. He guided his ikran into a dive, sending arrow grenades directly onto the rotors of a Dragon Assault ship, flying upstream before the large aircraft blasted, his war cry echoing over the din of combat.

For what seemed like hours, the sky bled. Whenever you feared you couldn't find Neteyam in the swirling ikrans flying in the air, he’d appear by your side, moving perfectly synchronized with you. Every time a threat closed in on your blind spot, Neteyam’s arrow finds them. Every time gunships threatened to box him in, your own lethal accuracy puts an end to it.

By the time the sun began to dip below the horizon, the final RDA gunship was on a slow descent in flames. This should be a victorious moment, but the sight of the burning jungle below you filled you with a grief that seized your breath. The adrenaline of the battle took hours to fade, but after securing the perimeter of the clan’s hideout, and convening with the council to speak of the next steps the party should take to completely batter the RDA, you felt Neteyam’s hand catch your forearm again.

You turned to him, your excitement bubbling in your chest despite your exhaustion. You followed him as he navigated some steep edges and climbed a few vines, wondering where exactly you two are going, but when he pulled you up on what seemed like a hidden hollow, the sight of a secluded, bioluminescent pool surprised you. The water glowed with a soft, blue light, casting shifting, watery patterns across the jagged walls.

Your mouth curled into a huge smile, turning to him. “This is beautiful...”

“Found it when I was sixteen aimlessly flying around here. I thought then that maybe this could be a place for dates with my mate,” he said, smiling at you, his face devoid of tension.

“Dates?” you echoed.

“It’s... a human thing. My parents often go on dates. Just the two of them, spending time with each other...” he explained.

You smiled, “I like that.”

His hand traveled up your forearm to hold your elbow, pulling you closer. “Good. Because I’ve always thought of bringing you in this place,” he mumbled.

You looked up at him, the soft blue light from the pool catching the warmth in his eyes. “Even back then?”

“Yes,” he murmured, his voice dropping into a reverent tone that made your chest tighten pleasantly. He reached down and gently slid his fingers between yours, leading you to the edge of the water. It was you who pulled him to sink into its chilly waters. “Even when I was trying to convince myself that I had to have laser focus on my duty, to be the most competent warrior I could be for my people, you were always the exception... You were always the tilt in my world.“

He held your jaw in his hand, leaning forward to press a soft kiss on your lips. His arms wrapped around your waist, his forehead pressed against yours.

“I know you forgave me. I know you said I didn't have to keep doing... all of that. But I need to say it, ” he paused, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. “I am so sorry. I will always be sorry... For the words I threw at you, for the pain I caused, for making you feel like you had to change who you were. I will spend the rest of my life making sure you never feel that way again.”

You moved your head slightly, you nose brushing his. The raw, unshielded vulnerability in his golden eyes was breathtaking. The proud, stubborn commander of the Omatikaya was completely laid bare before you, entirely surrendered. You have only ever dreamed of that.

“Neteyam,” You said softly, cupping his jaw with both hands. He stared at you, his eyes bright and swimming with an overwhelming wave of emotion. “The girl who used to be reckless might be gone, but the woman standing in front of you loves you more than she ever did,” you whispered, a soft, tearful smile breaking across your face. “I see you, Neteyam. I see everything you've done to make up for what you did. You don't have to carry the guilt anymore. Lay it down.”

A breathless sigh escaped his lips, and he closed his eyes, leaning heavily into the palm of your hand as if a massive weight had finally been lifted from his shoulders. When he opened them again, the absolute devotion burning within them made your heart skip a beat. “I love you,” he breathed, his words an unbreakable vow. “Baby, I love you so much.”

He leaned forward, capturing your lips in a kiss that was entirely different from the stolen moments before the battle. This was slow, deep, yet desperate. You groaned softly, your fingers tangling into his braids, he pulled you even closer until there was no space left between you. His hands moved down to your hips, gently stepping you back until you hit the velvety edge of the pool.

He pulled away to look down at your face, his large form towering over you so much now that you’re nearly lying down on the flat edge. Slowly, deliberately, he brought his kuru forward, the glowing tendrils at the tip unfurling, searching for anything to connect with. “Are you sure you want me as your husband?”

You raised a brow, “Is that a warning?”

He pressed a hard kiss on your lips. “It’s only that there is no turning back... You are mine. Forever.” he whispered conspiratorially.

You took your kuru behind you, “I’ve never been one to turn back in fear...” You met him halfway, bringing your kuru forward until the tendrils entwined in a sudden, breathtaking flash of pure energy that caused borh of you to jerk involuntarily. You watched his pupils dilate, the black almost swallowing the gold.

His world felt as though it expanded, then narrowed down to just you, while you could feel the steady, powerful thrum of his heartbeat as if it were beating in your own chest. You felt the raw, overwhelming depth of his love for you, the fear he felt he drove you away from him, the desperation that ate at him when you no longer cared for him, the hope that bloomed in him when you were so worried about his small wound, and the pure, weeping joy that had consumed him when you finally held his hand at the festival.

You let out a ragged, trembling breath, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck and pulled him down into a deep, bruising kiss. Neteyam groaned softly against your lips, his arms instantly locking around your waist. He pulled you flush against his chest, lifting you slightly off the stone as if he couldn't get you close enough. The kiss shifted from soft and tender, to the desperate hardness of a man who wanted to devour you.

His hands were everywhere on your body, unclasping your beaded top and untying your loincloth behind your tail. You chuckled in his ears when his hand on your tail tickled you, and he angled his head to press a hard kiss on your jaw, shedding your loincloth off of you. He hauled you up to the ledge before following you to hover over you, his chest heaving as he looked down at you, naked under him. The cool blue light of the secluded pool danced across his broad shoulders, making you shiver with awareness about how large of a man he actually is. He looked down at you with a hunger born from years of restraining himself.

His large hands slid down from your waist, his thumbs tracing your curves down to you thighs before firmly pressing your thighs apart. You let out a soft gasp as the cool air hit your skin, but the chill was instantly replaced by the intense heat of his body as he settled between your knees. He looked up at you, his eyes dark and searching, demanding you witness exactly how completely he belonged to you.

Slowly, he lowered himself, his calloused hands guiding your knees wider, draping your legs over his broad shoulders. Your breath caught in your throat as his breath fanned across the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. He pressed a soft, lingering kiss to the smooth skin of your knee, then another higher up, tracking a slow, agonizing path inward until you were trembling beneath him.

“Neteyam,” you called, panicking as you pushed him back by his shoulder.

His eyes snapped up to you, his eyes dark and dangerous, as if waiting for you to tell him no, but the heat in his eyes flustered you with a heat on your cheeks. He kissed your inner thigh again, and when his lips finally found the center of your heat, a sharp gasp escaped you, your hand squeezing his shoulder.

He pressed a gentle hand on your chest, travelling a bit sideways to cup your breast. “Lay back,“ he mumbled and you did, propping yourself up on your elbows.

His lips found you again and he groaned against your flesh, his hands wrapping securely around the back of your thighs to hold you steady as he parted you with his fingers. His tongue was warm, broad, and too deliberate, drawing upward, tasting you fully. The connection through your entwined kurus sent a jolt of unadulterated pleasure down his spine, and in turn, you could feel his own arousal spiking through the bond, heavy and demanding.

You arched your hips off the ground, your fingers digging into the thick roots beside your head. “Neteyam...” you whimpered, your head rolling back.

He grew even relentless, his pace quickening, his tongue swirling and pressing harder against your sensitive nub. Your hips bucked when his finger slid inside you, feeling uncomfortable with the slight stretch as his mouth sucked at your heat. The sensation was too noverwhelming, and the bond is only amplifying everything. You could feel his deep satisfaction at your undoing, his pride swelling as your body began to tighten around his fingers, and with a firm stroke of his tongue, you felt a powerful tremor in your body, a loud sob tearing from your throat as your thighs clamped around his head.

Neteyam held you through the tremors, swallowing your heat, his purr vibrating heavily against you until your breathing began to slow. As he dragged himself back up to hover over you, his face flushed and his lips glistening, you caught your breath. “That was insane...” you huffed.

His eyes lightened a bit, the darkness yielding to his curiosity. “Really?“

“You know how good it felt for me,” you smiled, tugging at your entwined kurus. A sudden, wicked spark flared in your chest, traveling straight through the bond to hit him. “I want to do it to you, too,” you whispered, your voice husky, your eyes locking onto his.

Neteyam blinked, a sudden wave of heat washing through his expression as his pupils dilated further. “You don’t need—”

“No,” you cut him off, your hands sliding down his muscled abdomen, until it lowered where you felt him. He breathe sharply when you felt him through his loincloth, your hand gripping the massive hardness. “I want it in my mouth, too...”

He closed his eyes for a moment before giving in with a low, defeated groan, shedding his loincloth off before rolling onto his back on the moss. You chuckled, the sound so womanly to him he felt a currently of electricity running exclusively on the margins of his body, causing his ears to pin back against his ears as he watched you rose on your knees, parting your thighs to straddle him.

His hand moved to touch you between your thighs and you jolted with a loud moan, nearly falling over if you didn’t catch yourself by propping a hand on his chest. His fingers caressed your velvety folds, gathering your fresh wetness.

“I need to concentrate, ‘Teyam...” you groaned and he chuckled. You saw him bring his fingers into his mouth.

“Sorry... You just taste so good,” he licked his lips, reaching to kiss you, but you moved your head to kiss his jaw instead.

You pressed soft kisses on his skin, contrasting his hard and heavy kisses. His hands hovered at your waist, his head falling back, letting you slide down his body. He watched you through heavy eyelids, his hands clenching into fists at his sides as you positioned yourself between his muscled thighs. You bit your lip at the sight of his length fully erect, thick, and leaking a bead of thick pre-cum at its tip.

You leaned down, your braids brushing against his thighs as you wrapped your lips around the smooth, hot head of his shaft. Neteyam’s breath hitched violently. He threw his head back against the moss, his jaw clenching so hard the cords in his neck strained as you took him into your mouth, your hands fisting and moving by instinct. Your tongue swirled around the ridge, your hand wrapping around the base to stroke him as your mouth moved.

He moaned, his hips bucking as the bond flared with a white hot intensity. Through the connection, you felt the sheer, agonizing pleasure ripping through him, the tight, desperate control he was trying to maintain as the wet warmth of your mouth drove him insane.

“Oh, baby, please, I can't—“ he gasped out, his hips lifting involuntarily off the ground as your mouth sucked him harder. He reached down, his large hands tangling into your braids.

You thought he was going to push you away, but he only held your head there with more pressure for a few more desperate seconds that his largeness almost choked you, but then he gently pulled you up, his breathing completely shattered. You groaned, frowning that he had to pull his cock out of your mouth.

He looked you in the eyes, serious and with finality. “No more. I want to come inside you.”

He hauled you up by your waist, flipping you beneath him in one fluid motion. He was completely done with waiting. His large hand pinned both your wrists above your head, his other hand holding your waist in place as he aligned his hard length against your softness, his mouth coming down to capture yours.

With a slow, heavy thrust, Neteyam began burying himself inside you, until he’d sank in entirely. You wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders , letting out a breathless cry, feeling your walls stretching to accommodate him. The sheer, overwhelming sensation of the fit sent an exquisite pleasure for the both of you through the bond, and it felt as though your souls were melting into one another, leaving no distinction between where you and him stand.

Neteyam paused for a second, his eyes closing as he absorbed the tight, wet heat of your walls squeezing him. A ragged groan tore from his chest before he began to move in a pace that was immediately hard, deep, and desperate, as if he was pouring into you all the pent-up energy he had left from the battle.

He drove into you with a fiercely possessive rhythm, his hips pounding against yours with a strength that had you crying out his name. Every time he pulled back, he returned deeper, marking you, claiming every inch of your body as his own. His arm wrapped under your body, while the other hand hiked your knee up to your chest, making sure you receive each of his forceful thrust.

The bond left no walls or armors to crack, both of you feeling only the pure, intoxicating love, devotion, and absolute surrender you have for each other. The tension in your lower abdomen coiled tighter and tighter until it was unbearable. Neteyam’s pace became frantic, his jaw locked, his eyes fixed on yours with a terrifying intensity as he felt your walls begin to tighten around him.

“Oh, baby,” he choked out, his grip on your thigh tightening.

You screamed his name as your body convulsed around him, the pleasure shattering your vision into a thousand white sparks. Your grip on him triggered his own release, and a deep, guttural roar escaped him as he thrust brutally deep into you one last time and held himself there, his body stiffening as he spilled himself completely inside you.

“Fuck, I’m seeing stars...” he groaned, collapsing against your chest, his head buried in the crook of your neck, his own chest rising and falling in ragged, exhausted gasps. You broke into a weakened laugh, your hold on him loosening up a little as you pressed soft kisses on his temple.

The weeks that followed were a blur of war council meetings, suffocating maps, and aerial patrols around the High Camp. The ongoing struggle against the RDA had left very little time for you and Neteyam to enjoy your first days together, but it’s when you’re high above the sky that everything seemed to be yours.

You banked hard to the left, your ikran letting out a shrill cry as the wind rushed past your ears. Behind you, Neteyam dipped beneath a floating vine, a wild, unburdened laugh tearing from his throat. For a few glorious hours, the shadow of the RDA did not touch you. There were no battles, no strategies, and no bloodshed. There was only the dizzying feeling of flying, the wind, and the intoxicating freedom of racing the Neteyam through the floating mountains and its hanging vines.

He pulled up right beside you, his ikran's wingtip nearly brushing yours. When he turned his head, his golden eyes were bright, his smile throwing all his typical military crispness to the wind. You flashed him a sharp, challenging smirk, diving straight through a cascading waterfall.

“Keep up!” you taunged, leaving him to chase your laughter through the mist.

By nightfall, the adrenaline gave way to the familiar craving for quiet. You returned to the hidden hollow, slipping into the bioluminescent pool. The chilly waters swirled around your waist as Neteyam hugged you sideways, his chin finding your shoulder, bending his large frame to fit himself at your side.

Every night felt different, but tonight was calmer, filled with your soft mumurs and his low, rumbling chatters as you talked for hours about nothing at all, your fingers tracing the faint, silvery marks of his scars, before the talking faded into the slow and heavy rhythm of your lovemaking.

You are a impatient woman, but you couldn’t deny your love for his deliberate, agonizing slowness sometimes, his hands anchoring your waist as he worshipped you. Every thrust was deep and strong, his lips pressed to your throat, whispering your name like a prayer until the sensations from the bond left you both breathless, tangled together in a sweating, blissful heap.

The sky was just beginning to shift from darkness to the bruised purple of pre-dawn light when you woke up, your body singing with delicious soreness and you snuggled closer to his warmth. You kissed the soft skin of his shoulder, you hand caressing his muscled chest down to his abdomen. You smiled when he stirred, pressing soft kisses on his shoulder and neck, until you reach his jaw.

“Wake up, handsome...“ you mumbled. “It’s your turn today.”

He groaned softly, pulling you closer to him. “I hate leaving you.”

You chuckled. “So dramatic, my handsome man. I will be close behind,” you said, patting his abdomen. “Quick, quick. Before they wake up.”

He grunted, hauling you on top of him effortlessly. His eyes, though sleepy, watched you darkly as his hands moved to knead your breasts. You gasped softly, your hand clutching at his bicep as you peered down at him.

“I’m still sore from last night,” you said with a little drama, pouting at him.

He bit his lip, cooing at you. “I’ll help...” his hands moved down to your waist, ready to roll you over to your back but you were quick to sit up.

“No thanks. I know it’s not really help,” you smirked, grabbing your top. “Get up, warrior. You don’t want to get caught, do you?”

Neteyam groaned, a soft smile on his face before getting up, his hand clamping on your ankle to pull you toward him. You smiled when he bent his head a little to level with you. “Kiss,“ he mumbled and you gave him your lips.

You two kissed and kissed, but when you felt him nudging you to lie on your back, your eyes snapped open, pulling away from the kiss with narrowed eyes. “Neteyam...”

He smiled, his head falling dramatically. You rushed him, watching how the sun is almost peeking through the bruised sky, and Neteyam moved as quickly as he could, stealthily slipping back into the camp, walking with a light, quiet stride, a faint smile still on his lips as he neared his family’s tent.

“Out late?”

Neteyam froze, his ears pinning flat against his head. His father stepped out from the shadow, his arms crossed. From just inside the tent flap, Neytiri stepped forward, her sharp eyes narrowed at her eldest son in a way that made Neteyam’s posture instantly snap into military rigidity.

Jake sighed. “Neteyam... I've been meaning to talk to you, boy. I know you’re sort of courting Y/N. The whole clan knows it, everyone knows it, but you cannot just spend nights after nights with her to only Eywa knows where. You are both unmated. It's a small camp, people talk, and it’s not going to be a good look for her reputation.”

Neytiri stepped fully into the dim light, her tail twitching. “Just last night, when you had to sleep here, you looked like you were being sent to war instead of just holding Tuk because she’s asked to snuggle with you,” she pointed out. “You best ask for her hand from Ikeyni, son. Formally. You can’t dishonor her with this fooling around that you young people tend to engage in these days.“

Neteyam opened his mouth to speak and explain, but the look on his father’s face had him turning his head to follow Jake’s line of vision. He then saw you stepping into the clearing, completely unaware of the tribunal happening right in front of the Sully tent. You had planned to quickly slip into the yurt you shared with your mother to change your clothes and fix your hair, but you had taken the wrong turn.

You stopped dead in your tracks.

To say you looked thoroughly ravaged was an understatement. Your hair was a wild, tangled halo of loose braids, your lips were visibly swollen, and your chest was heaving from the hurried walk. You looked exactly like a woman who had spent the last hours being thoroughly fucked. Jake blinked, looking from you to his son.

Neytiri tilted her head, her gaze shifting slowly from your wild hair down to Neteyam’s deeply flushed face. She looked at her son pointedly, her eyes narrowing to dangerous slits. “Neteyam...”

Neteyam looked at you, then at his parents, his chest rising as he took a deep, steadying breath. The boyish embarrassment vanished, replaced by the fierce, unyielding pride of a man who knew exactly where he stood.

He walked over to you, completely ignoring his father’s stunned expression, and firmly wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him.

“I will personally apologize to the Olo’eykte, Mother. Because there is no need to ask for her hand,” Neteyam said, squeezing your waist a bit as he looked at his parents. “We are already mated.”

Your heart jumped into your throat, your cheeks burning.

Jake stared at his son, utterly speechless for three long seconds, before a slow, defeated smirk began to tug at the corner of his mouth. “Well... damn. Congratulations, I guess,” he said. “But you need to talk to Ikeyni about this. Immediately.”

“What is the matter at hand?” Your mother’s voice coming from your clan’s side of the camp.

You startled, pursing your lips. Neytiri watched you, the stern face for her son breaking into a soft smile as she shook her head in comical disbelief for your and Neteyam’s stubbornness.

You had believed her. Your life had been so perfect... So easy and so peaceful. You had spent your girlhood honing the skills required of a tsakarem, of a future Tsahik... Skills that will no longer be needed now. It is all useless. A sharp tug on your arm snapped you back to the present. Ka’lu leaned in, his breath smelling of fermented brew that made you stop breathing.

“Smile, child,” he hissed, his ugly voice contrast to the beautiful music. “Your future mate could look anytime. Show him the grace of a leader’s daughter, not the face of a cornered yerik.”

You looked across the fire. There he sat. The man who would soon claim you. He laughed with a boisterous, ugly sound, the very same hands that now held a cup of drink having once held the blade that ended your family’s lives. No one will come to save you. Ka’lu pretended to have saved you from that bloody night... But here he is, delivering you straight in the arms of your enemy.

You have long let go of your foolish hope in warriors. No one will come to save you. And it makes you feel even more disgusted with yourself knowing that if you ever got the strength and courage to escape Ka’lu, you know that it was still a warrior’s help you would enlist to make it happen. Honorable warriors... a cold, cynical weight settling in your chest. They do not exist.

The songs were lies. The poems were just pretty words meant to distract girls from the truth: that the world was run by greed, and honor was just a cloak men wore until it was no longer convenient. In your world, the gallant were the first to die, and the brave were those who knew how to betray their friends the fastest. Just like Ka’lu.

“I do not want to do it, uncle,” you whispered, your voice trembling but clear. “I will throw myself from the cliffs before I even think of mating him.”

Ka’lu’s grip tightened on your wrist until you winced. Ka’lu never yells... He used the weapon he knew hurts you the most. “And what of your father’s people, Y/N? The survivors? They toil in the mud of his camps. This union is the only thing that buys their food. Their lives are in your hands. Would you be so selfish as to let them starve for the sake of your pride?”

He was selling you to a murderer and convincing you it’s duty.

You stared at the flames and felt as though you were drifting. You tried to get a hold of yourself, digging your nails on the soft palms of your hands. Get a grip, you told yourself. Your eyes scanned the crowd to ground yourself, desperate and drowning, and saw a warrior coming. The man leaned forward and whispered something to your uncle, you watched how your uncle hung on every word the man said, nodding like an obedient follower.

Ka’lu didn’t even ask for your consent when he clamped a hand around your upper arm the moment the man had turned his back, hauling you toward a private pavilion. You weren’t expecting to see something great inside the confined space, but you were also so out of it that you staggered in horror at the sight of a familiar man standing there. The man, Mokri, the Olo’eyktan of the clan that had butchered yours, stood in the middle of the pavilion as if he were awaiting the arrival of a gift.

Or something to play with... might be the more appropriate term. His face was a map of poorly healed scars and his eyes were dark pits of greed. You were never one to judge people by their looks, but his outside appearance surely matched the inside. He is a monster in every sense of the word. He grinned at the sight of you, clapping his hand.

“Come, come,” Mokri croaked, beckoning you forward, and your uncle pushed you to him as gently as he could, as though you were a precious gem.

You fixed your eyes on the ground even though you kept your chin tilted high. In the periphery of your vision, you could tell that there are other men in the pavilion, each sitting on special chairs. The leaders who were gathering outside are now here, inside the pavilion, you concluded. You gritted your teeth when Mokri’s calloused fingers held your jaw to examine your face.

“Very beautiful,” he nodded at your uncle, before moving in a slow and predatory manner around you, like a viperwolf sizing up a yerik. “Take this off. Let us see your body.”

He reached out, catching the edge of your shawl. You shivered, the bile rising in your throat. You looked at Ka’lu, pleading with your eyes, but he only nodded eagerly, a sycophant’s grin plastered on his face. You reached for the clasp, your trembling fingers could barely grip the fabric.

“Is this necessary?”

The voice sounded like thunder in your ear even though it was calm. It cut through the tension, and without even looking, you could sense his authority in a room full of chieftains, as if he knows that his voice alone could command a room.

“This is only entertainment, Neteyam te Suli, don’t be so serious. Once you see her body, you’ll line up for it, too,” Mokri flashed the man a disgusting smile. “It’s for all of us.”

Your breathing hitched, trying not to heave.

“Entertainment?” The man’s voice dropped into a low chill instead of rising, the way most men’s voices do when they are angry. “Let me remind you that you were invited to this council because we believed your clan now seeks the path of peace. We are here to talk of trade and peace among our people, not to witness the harassment of a woman, which all of us here do not condone.”

You sensed the man walk closer until he is only a few paces away from the center of the pavilion.

“You are on probation. Surely, you remember, Mokri?” The man pressed; and you watched, with satisfaction, how Mokri couldn’t even speak. “Get her out of here.” You heard the man say, and he seemed to be talking to Ka’lu, because your uncle glanced at Mokri.

“Who are you to order a man who answers to me?” Mokri, havjng found his tongue, demanded. “You are not even Olo’eyktan! Your father just sent you!”

“I am still part of the council that gave you a chance to belong again, which you are now disrespecting with your behavior,” the man answered, and for some reason, you were feeling a surge of strength from hearing someone refuse to back down to a person like Mokri. “I speak on things I do not like, and I do not like what this situation is inferring. Do you traffic women, too, Mokri? Is this what you do?”

Your heart thrummed against your ribs. Mokri looked between you and the man behind you, his ego warring with the political weight of the man’s words. For a moment, you saw anxiety on his monstrous face and you wanted to rejoice.

“Take that woman to my yurt,” Mokri barked at Ka’lu, conceding the public battle but claiming the private one.

As Ka’lu began to drag you toward the exit, the stranger’s voice stopped you one last time. “Are you here of your own will, woman?”

For a heartbeat, you found the courage to look at him. Turning your head to the stranger who had so courageously stopped your humiliation. He looked young among the chieftains. He was taller than most men here, and broader, too. Your eyes caught the cummerbund he was wearing and knew he was Omatikaya, your childhood knowledge of the clans and their telltales serving you.

His golden eyes were intense on you, searching. No one had looked at you like that in so long. “No, help—”

“She is! I am her uncle, she is just overwhelmed by the honor!” Ka’lu barked in panic, shoving you out.

The moment Ka’lu had dragged you to the yurt, the world exploded into pain. The back of his palm cracked across your face, sending you sprawling into the dirt.

“You do not speak!” he hissed, his face contorted with rage. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Neteyam has made Mokri look like a fool in front of the entire Great Council! He will take that humiliation out on me, and on your people!”

“He was... he was going to strip me,” you whispered.

“And you should have let him!” Ka’lu barked, grabbing your hair to force you to look at him. “Now, Mokri is enraged. If he loses his seat on this council, who knows what he might do! He will kill you just like he killed your family!” He hauled you up and shoved you inside a dark yurt. “You will stay here. I will go back and try to mend this. If Mokri mounts you tonight, you will be silent. You will be obedient. You will give him whatever he asks for to make up for the shame you caused him.”

“Uncle, please—”

“I am not your uncle!” he spat, tying the flap shut from the outside. “I am the only reason you are still breathing. Don't make me regret it.”

You struggled to breathe. This yurt might just be the witness to the death of your honor. Or your death itself, if Mokri thinks it appropriate. Your breathing was jagged, hiccuping in your struggle to take in air as much as you can, collapsing against the fiber wall, hyperventilating. The songs of the festival outside sounded like they were mocking you.

You will never know the peace they sing of. You will never be free again. You will never feel the love they chanted about. You wished you would just die here. You prayed, that if you shall never know all those great things again, then the Great Mother should just take your breath altogether so that you may escape this fear, pain, and humiliation. You propped a hand on the ground, your fingers brushing against something sharp on the floor. Your brows furrowed.

A tool? You scrambled to get it. Feeling a small, jagged blade in your fingers. Your lips parted. Oh, Great Mother. Your grief finally curdled into a cold, desperate resolve. You felt the fiber. It was thick, but it was aged. With the knife in your trembling hand, you began to saw at the base of the wall. You worked until your fingers bled, until the hole was wide enough for your slender frame. You squeezed through, and then you were out, facing the dark, looming shadows of the forest.

You ran.

You didn't have a plan. You didn't have a home. But still, you ran until your lungs burned and until the thorns of the undergrowth shredded your feet. You were uncaring of everything. You wished only to get away, to live your life as you did before, to know what it’s like to be free once again. You rounded a massive, glowing root and collided with something solid, but you knew it was not a tree trunk.

The impact sent you reeling. You fell back, your strength finally spent, and let out a broken, jagged sob. You covered your face with your hands, waiting for Ka’lu’s voice, waiting for the blow to fall. They had caught up on you!

“Hey—whoa! Watch it!” The voice was young and startled, not the croak of your uncle.

“Please,” you gasped, crawling backward on your hands and knees, your voice thick with hysteria. “Please, don't take me back there. Kill me if you must, but don't take me back to him!”

The man stepped into the light of a glowing plant and you saw that his eyes were wide in genuine shock as he took in your appearance. The blood, the bruises, and the sheer, raw terror on your face. “Take you back?” He asked, his hands hovering near you, unsure where to touch without hurting you. “I’m not taking you anywhere you don’t want to go. Sister, what happened to you?”

At the word sister, a term of kin and respect, the last of your composure shattered. You reached out, grabbing his arms with a death grip. “Save me,” you choked out. “Please. Help me. Don’t let them kill me...”

The man looked back toward the camp, his jaw setting. “Sister, you are safe.”

A sob racked your body, your trembling hands finding purchase on his arms but the sheer exhaustion, the nonstop crying, and the pain forced your world to go black. You drifted into a dreamless sleep, but it was uncomfortable and hot, you were sweating, and when your eyes finally fluttered open, the first thing you felt was the suffocating heat and the scratchy texture of dried mats against your skin.

You were in a large, rectangular crate, buried beneath layers of woven mat. For a panicked second, you thought you were back in the yurt, but you felt too weak and dizzy that you couldn't even push the lid open even as you tried. You gasped for air, the crate was so crowded and hot that you felt as though you’re close to fainting. You heard muffled voices of men and you stopped breathing loudly.

“What are you talking about?” you heard a man’s voice. “Lo’ak, I have something more important to attend to. I told you, we need to find that woman before they do!”

“This is just as important. Like you said, there is probably a trafficking of women going on. I’m going to show you something,” another voice said. “And please, don’t get mad. I only did what I must.”

You heard the footsteps coming, and then silence. You held your breath until you heard a soft knock.

“Hey... You awake?” You heard a small voice. “Uh, you’re safe don’t worry... I was just— I’m with my brother. Don’t worry, he’s a good guy.” he assured you, still tapping on the lid. “Can I open this? Or maybe you should, if you feel safe.”

“What is this, Lo’ak?” You heard another voice, deep and gravelly.

“Shh! Can you shut up for a moment?” The first voice said. “Hey... I’ll open the lid. Tap it if you don’t want me to open it.”

You didn’t do as he asked, you cannot even do it. You are too dizzy and your limbs felt too heavy. The lid of your crate was wrenched open, and the sudden influx of bright light attacked you, making you squint, a weak moan escaping your lips as you tried to shield your eyes with a bruised arm.

“Here, I have water. Drink.”

You peeled your eyes open, your hands shaking so violently as you reached for the waterskin that you dropped it before you even opened it, making you groan weakly. You felt another presence loom and you made the effort you move your head, your blurry vision focusing on a familiar face. You saw him reach down, his large, calloused hand wrapping a hand on you your wrist, making you flinch despite your weakened state.

“She’s burning, Lo’ak,” he said, turning to the man beside him.

Your eyes followed the way his braids swayed when he moved, and when he turned to you again, his face was a mask of genuine worry, no longer the face of the stoic warrior who stood in the pavilion. You were curled inside the small crate, your bioluminescent freckles flickering weakly. The purple-black bruising on your face and arms stood out starkly against your pale blue skin. You looked less like a woman and more like a broken yerik discarded in the trash.

Neteyam felt as though the air had been kicked from his lungs. He recognized you. The woman from the pavilion, the woman Mokri is currently looking for. Neteyam’s mind raced back to the chaos after you exited the pavilion. He had confronted Ka’lu about the truth when he came back in minutes later, nearly beating the truth out of the coward. Ka’lu had stammered about you being his niece, and assured him you were safe and were not being sold, but when Neteyam forced him to the yurt to prove your safety, they found only the jagged hole in the woven wall.

That alone told him that Ka’lu was not telling the truth at all, and the fact that you forced your way out of the yurt meant you were not safe. He initially planned to leave last night, to lead the Omatikaya warriors back home, to refuse to continue attending the council Mokri had just disrespected. The other chieftains themselves agreed that no talks of peace and trade can be done after what just happened. But he also couldn't leave knowing that a woman was out there being pursued by Mokri. Who knows what he would have done with you once he catches you.

Now, seeing you crumpled in this crate, the guilt was a bitter taste. He should have gone all out in his intervention last night. He had already asked you, he shouldn’t have ordered Ka’lu to get you out of the pavilion. He reached out again, and your eyes fluttered, your brain too wired to the fact that a hand near your face would mean a slap or a punch, but his touch was soft as it traced the edge of the deep bruise on your cheek.

“Lo’ak, take charge of the warriors,” he commanded, his voice filled with a rare rage. “I am taking her ahead. She needs to get checked by Tsahik.“

He let out a sharp, piercing whistle, and within moments, the beating of massive wings spiraling down fanned the nearby plants, sending it dancing before the beast landed with a heavy thud. Neteyam didn't waste another second on words. He reached into the crate, sliding his arms beneath your knees and back. As he lifted you, he winced at how light you were, adjusting his hold when you let out a pained whimper, your head falling weakly against his chest.

Even through your delirium, you felt the steady, powerful thrum of his heartbeat, as if lulling you to sleep, but when he mounted the beast with practiced grace, and pulled you tightly against his chest, you can’t help but wrap a hand around his bicep, afraid you’ll fall.

“I got you,” he murmured against your temple, his grip strong yet impossibly careful.

With a powerful leap, the ikran took to the vast sky, and for the first time in years, your world was endless.

                                                         ₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

For days, you drifted in and out of sleep, your mind only registering the warm glow of a tent thick with the smell of familiar herbs and incense. Your fever was so high you no longer recognize what’s true and what was made up by your mind during the hours you were delirious.

When you finally awoke, it was to the steady glow of a hanging firepot. You felt lighter, your head and your body devoid of the aching that has been there for years. Your vision eventually cleared, and you noticed a young woman sitting nearby, humming a low melody. You tensed when she turned, but then you saw her eyes, kind and curious, and you calmed down.

“You are finally back with us,” she said, her voice gentle. She raised a hand and your eyes caught the five fingers, causing you to dip your body further to the mats. She has five fingers! She noticed your reaction and chuckled. “Oh, sorry. I’m just going to check if you still have fever. Can I?”

You bit your lip and stayed still. “Sorry...” you muttered.

She smiled, touching your forehead with the back of her hand. “Your fever has finally broken,” she said. “I’m Kiri, by the way...”

You smiled, telling her your name as you tried to sit up. You have lots of questions but when she offered you a piece of sweet fruit and a waterskin, you ate with a desperation that surprised you, the water reviving your parched throat. The drops they had given you while you were asleep did almost nothing, but it at least kept you alive.

Just as you finished, a small figure bursted into the tent, but she skidded to a halt when she saw you already sitting up. It was a young girl with wide golden eyes and large ears, her face full of wonder automatically makinh you smile.

“Hi!” she chirped, her eyes wide. “May I ask you a question?” she asked boldly, stepping closer.

You nodded curiously, watching her take a seat across from you.

“Well, you slept really long... And my friends and I wished to know... Uhm, did you die?”

“Tuk!” Kiri reprimanded but the child was hanging on your every word.

You chuckled. “No, little one. I was just very sick.”

“Oh,” she seemed disappointed. “I'm Tuk,” the girl said, before squinting at you. “Was your hair always that way?”

You were still smiling, but your head tilted. “That way?“

“It's not black like ours.”

You touched the dark auburn strands of your hair, a trait of your father's family. “Yes, it has always been this way.”

Tuk sighed dramatically, falling back on the floor. “I wish mine would change color once I’m grown... But I guess I have to love what Eywa has given me.”

You can’t help but smile, remembering how dramatic you were about your life as well. Her innocence was a balm to your wounded soul. You were about to respond when a tall shadow darkened the entrance, making you swivel your head to its direction.

Your heart stuttered. The warrior from the pavilion.

“Neteyam!” Tuk cried out. “She’s awake!”

“So I see,” he murmured, his eyes already on you. His gaze was intense, scanning you with a mixture of relief and something that made your skin tingle.

You tore your eyes away, but also remembered that you owe him. You are on his mercy. Besides, you have something to request! You forced yourself to stand, though your legs still feel shaky. He stepped forward instinctively, his hands twitching as if ready to catch you but you stood properly.

“Warrior,” you began, your voice trembling but determined. “I owe you my life. I thank you for the mercy you showed me at the council and for bringing me here.” You swallowed hard, your eyes pleading. “If I may, I want to ask for refuge. Please, do not send me back. I will work. I can work very hard, I promise. I know herbs and I know how to heal, I— I was trained as a healer. I can also take care of kids, I know many songs! I can weave, too, warrior. I will serve you and your people in any way I can, I promise. Just don’t send me back.”

You went on, your words tumbling out in a frantic procession of promises, desperate to prove your worth so you wouldn't be discarded. When you finally ran out of breath, silence stretched between you. Neteyam stood frozen, his golden eyes unblinking, his lips slightly parted. He looked entirely speechless, as if you had cast a spell over him.

“Warrior?” you whispered, wondering if you had said something wrong.

His head snapped back slightly, as though waking from a trance. Tuk giggled beside you. “You have no reason to fear,” he said, his voice regaining its steady depth as his kind eyes held yours. “You are safe here. My father and the Tsahik have granted you sanctuary. I will never send you back. You may stay as long as you wish.”

Relief washed over you so sharply you nearly wept. “Oh, thank you. I will make sure I am of use, I—”

“Focus on your recovery,” he interrupted gently, tilting his head. “In the Omatikaya, we do not weigh a person by what they can produce. You are not a servant here.”

Before you could insist, an older woman with an intimidating presence entered. The Tsahik of the Omatikaya. Mo’at. She looked at you with eyes that seemed to see through you. You have a vast knowledge of the clans, from what was taught when you were a child, but you supposed many things have changed since your family fell.

“You are awake, daughter of Rikahe,” she stated.

Your lips curled in a soft smile, watching her with misty eyes, moved by the mention of your father’s family name. “How did you know, Tsahik?” you asked softly.

She carefully touched your hair. “No one can see that hair and not think of your father’s line,“ she said, her hand hovering over your neck to feel your skin. “Your fever has broken... But you must rest and gain your energy before you work on what you bargain for with Neteyam,” she narrowed her eyes at you. “Although there is no need for you to overwork yourself to prove you are worthy to stay here.”

You bit your lip and nodded. You’ve done nothing but work hard in the past years that you know of nothing else but that.

“Neteyam, see to it that she is comfortable,” Mo’at commanded, her voice echoing with a finality that brooked no argument. “She is our guest, but soon, she will be one of the People. You shall be her guide in this journey.”

You looked at her. You will be one of them? Your lips parted as you tried not to show too much excitement. Meanwhile, Mo’at’s side glances at her grandson, remembering the fire in him just a few days prior, a side of Neteyam she had rarely seen. Usually the dutiful and obedient son who followed the word of his parents and the elders for as long as they make sense, he had shocked the council when the elders had whispered of “political complications” and the danger of harboring the daughter of a slaughtered clan, and Neteyam hadn't backed down.

He stood his ground when he challenged the elders, his face etched with a rare disappointment. “Is this who we are?” he had asked them, his eyes flashing with firmness. “Do we weigh the life of a person against our comfort? If we send her back to be killed or enslaved, we are no better than the ones who wielded the blade.” It was the first time he had ever truly defied the council, showing a conviction that even his father watched with quiet pride.

“Neteyam,” Mo’at said, snapping the warrior out of his silent observation of you. “She is under your care. Teach her our ways, and ensure she knows that under this canopy, she is protected.”

Neteyam bowed his head, his ears twitching slightly. “I will, Grandmother.”

As the Tsahik exited the tent, Tuk chased after her and Kiri smiled as she followed them out. You turned to Neteyam and smiled. “I’m sorry... I believe it is a particulatly heavy burden, but also, too small of a job for you. I think, I could talk to Tsahik and ask that one of your recommended warriors would do—”

“Do you not trust my expertise on this, lady?” he asked, his voice laced with humor, and yet it made you panic.

Your eyes widened, shaking your head. “I cannot possibly doubt your expertise, warrior—”

Neteyam stepped closer, and your foot stupidly stepped back, your body reacting as if it’s bracing for anything. Your chest deflated when you saw him stop, his eyes watching you carefully... And then you saw the moment realization dawned in them. It made you feel flayed.

“Sorry,” you said, stopping your face from crumpling in embarrassment.

“Sorry, what for?” he asked, and it made you feel even worse.

“I... I don’t know,” you said, visibly agitated in your fear that you might upset him.

“I told you that you were safe,” he said simply, his voice low and melodic. “No one can hurt you here. I will not allow it.”

You stared at him and nodded, your eyes heating up a little bit. You thought of your brothers. Your fierce, laughing brothers who had died defending the clan, and wondered if they would have grown to be as gallant as this man. If they had lived, perhaps they would have stood with the same quiet strength, shielding the weak not because they were ordered to, but because their hearts demanded it.

“Rest now,” Neteyam whispered. “I’ll show you around the Hometree once you’re okay.”

You spent one more day in the sanctuary of the Tsahik’s tent, just lying down and regaining your strength, eating the best fruits and food. Kiri returned often to change your bandages, her presence calm and grounding that you found yourself stalling her for conversation. You’d found that she was Neteyam’s sister, and Tuk, too.

She mentioned a brother named Lo’ak, and you are familiar with the name. He was the man who saved you that night. “Where is he? I haven’t seen him yet since I woke up,” you asked softly, your hands deft as you helped her with the herbs.

“Oh, he’s out! Again. Lo’ak is a free spirit. He volunteers for missions a lot. Dad sent him to the Metkayina this time,” she said. “You’ve met him?”

You nodded. “Yes. He saved me,” you said, your voice filled of gratitude.

Kiri smiled softly, and you could see the pride blooming on her face for her brothers. When the morning arrived, Neteyam appeared at the entrance of the Tsahik’s tent while you were busy helping Kiri with the herbs again.

“Hey,” he greeted, not fully entering the tent, just his head popping into the entrance, nodding at Kiri before his eyes snapped back to you.

“Hello,” you said, smiling a little, standing up and wiping your palms against your loincloth.

“I promised I’d show you around the Hometree, but your kelku was finished just in time. Would you like to see it?“ he asked, a small exciyed smile touching his lips.

Your lips parted in surprise. “My kelku?” you asked.

“Yeah. You’ll see,” he said. “Come.” he remained standing by the entrance, waiting for you to come.

You walked toward him, stepping out of the tent. He led you out of the platform, but only then did you realize where you are. You let out a sharp, jagged gasp, your knees buckling as you looked down. You were positive you were in the sky, you couldn’t even see the ground, only a vast view of vibrant greens and giant ferns. Instinct took over; you lunged toward the nearest solid thing, your fingers digging into the firm muscle of Neteyam’s arm.

“It’s... it’s too high,” you choked out, your heart hammering like a trapped creature.

Neteyam pursed his lips to stifle a chuckle, steadying you with a gentle hand on your waist. “Look at me,” he said and you peered up at him, biting your lower lip and gripping his arm so tightly your fingernails dug into his skin. “Have you not lived on a Hometree before?”

You shook your head. “We are river people... And when I was enslaved, we lived in the plains. I’ve never been on a tree this high before,” your brows furrowed, your eyes snagging on how tightly you were holding his arm. You let go, your eyes widening at the sight of the reddened marks on his arm. You gasped and caressed the spot softly. “I’m so sorry. I was being mindless! I’m sorry—”

“Don’t say sorry, it’s nothing,” he said, his hand catching yours. “Can you look down again? I mean, you can’t always be afraid of heights... Not when you’ll be living here. Aside from that, you’ll have to tame an ikran for yourself, too...” he murmured, his chest vibrating against your shoulder.

You bit your lip again, your hand dropping onto his forearm, while his hand still spanned your waist. You saw it as a good sign that you had not made a big deal of him being so close to you. You looked at the never-ending view of the greens below, feeding your eyes and letting yourself welcome the sensory stimulation of the misty breeze against your skin.

You are given a new life, you told yourself. You owe it to yourself to be brave again. You owe it to Neteyam not to give him a hard time as he helps you. You closed your eyes for a moment, forcing the air into your lungs and letting the scent of moss ground you. When you opened them again, you looked past the terrifying drop and focused on the way the sunlight filtered through the canopy.

“It is... beautiful,” you whispered, finally loosening your death grip on his arm. You turned to him with a shy, determined smile. “I will learn, I promise. I’ll walk these branches day and night so that I’ll get used to it. I really want to stay.”

Neteyam’s gaze caressed your determined features and his expression softened. “Take it slow—”

A sudden shout paces away made him stop and made you swivel your head, and your newfound bravery was short-lived. A shriek tore from your throat. Your survival instincts, honed by years of trauma, sent you leaping backward again, straight into Neteyam’s arms. You hiked a leg up instinctively, clinging to him as if he were the only solid thing left in the world. Neteyam caught you with practiced ease, his hand firm against your thigh to keep you steady while his other arm wrapped around your back, pulling you flush against his chest.

“Spider,” Neteyam greeted, his voice calm, though he made no move to put you down.

“Whoa! Didn't mean to scare the guest!” The lively voice called out.

You peered over Neteyam’s shoulder, your breath hitching. Standing on a nearby branch was a creature you had never seen. His skin was pale, you had nothing to compared it with, and he wore a strange transparent mask over his face. He moved with the agility you’ve seen from Tuk, but he looked... different.

You pressed yourself further into Neteyam, hiding your face on his shoulder.

“Calm down,” Neteyam hushed, his voice low against your ear. He gently cupped your jaw, tilting your face up so you were forced to meet his steady golden eyes. “He is a friend. A brother to me, Lo’ak, and Kiri.” He spoke slowly, as if soothing a frightened yerik. “He looks different because he is a human.”

“Human?” you repeated, the word tasting strange on your tongue.

“I will explain it all later,” he promised, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw. “For now, just know that Spider is good. He is one of us.”

Reluctantly, you nodded. Spider offered a lopsided grin, his initial boisterousness softening into a quiet greeting. As the three of you walked toward your new home, Spider proved to be a chatterbox, telling you abouy how he was around when you were brought here. His energy was infectious, and by the time you reached your kelku, your earlier fear had faded into a buzzing curiosity.

Meanwhile, your kelku was a dream. It was small and intimate, nestled in a curve of the tree that offered a private view of the nearby river. You spent a long time just watching it, whispering and promising that you’d pay it a visit soon. For the first time in many years, you had a space that wasn't a cage. You saw soft furs and colorful tapestries piled on the side and when you kneeled to check it, your found various loinclothes and tops mixed there, too.

You looked back to Neteyam with an excited smile and he tilted his head, saying, “It’s a gift.”

“This is quite a lot...“ you said, “but thank you. I mean, I have nothing coming here.” You bit your lip and stood up, glancing at Spider climbing a nearby vine. “I wish to see the weavers...”

He nodded, offering a hand which you took and he led you through the winding pathways toward the looms, sharing with you the history of his family, telling you that his father used to be a human... like Spider.

Your brows furrowed. “This, I’ve heard of. My mother used to tell me the story... She said, my father fought with Toruk Makto in his war... And that he is different.”

Neteyam smiled. “Perhaps, he is. He chose to be one of us, chose to fight for my mother and our people...“ he said.

You smiled at the thought, but you were too curious. You asked many questions, and in the end, he told you about Avatars whose origins he perfectly explained that you understood despite never seeing what technology he was talking about, and the world suddenly felt much larger and kinder than the one you had escaped.

“I should bring you to where Spider lives sometime. You’ll see it there,” he said.

When you reached the weaving looms, the familiar click-clack of the shuttles brought a surge of nostalgia. You ran your fingers over the fibers, your eyes sparkling. “Is the river I can see outside my kelku easy to reach by foot?” you asked, smiling.

“Yes... Why?” he asked slowly.

You smiled shyly. “If I could, I want to go there and see if I find the same reeds we used to collect back home. It creates good fabric and I can make them here...” you said.

Neteyam leaned against a wooden pillar, watching you with an unreadable expression. “Tomorrow,” he promised. “I will take you to the water.”

You could barely sleep the entire night at the thought of seeing the river, and the moment the morning light shifted inside the walls of your kelku, your eyes fluttered open. You fixed your hair. It’s too long now, reaching almost to your hips, and a little wavy as opposed to your mother’s pin-straight hair.

The people of the Omatikaya were fond of braids, but you wanted to keep yours unbounded for now. Neteyam arrived not long after you’ve fixed yourself and you smiled at his genuine surprise upon seeing you ready for the day. “Sorry, I was too excited,“ you said in a shy murmur.

His brows furrowed, his eyes watching you carefully. “You have nothing to say sorry for,” he replied, his hand slowly rising in the air, palms up.

You stared at it and he tilted his head, as if waiting for you to put yours over his hand so you did. He smiled and gently squeezed it before he led you through the branches. The trek down the Hometree proved to be a challenge, and perhaps, if you hadn’t pushed yourself through several obstacles, you two wouldn't reach the ground in less than an hour.

But once you were on the ground, you moved with a quiet, frantic energy that Neteyam had to work to match. He couldn't help but huff a chuckle as you skipped through the foliage, only looking back once you realized he’s lagging behind. It wasn’t a long walk at all, and he said there was even a switchback leading to the river directly, making you even more excited at the prospect of going there alone.

And when you hear the distant roar of the falls and saw the morning light openly graze the waters, your breath hitched in your throat. The river stretched out before you, a winding ribbon of water shimmering as it reflected rhe morning light. It was home.

Neteyam stopped at the edge of the bank, but you kept going. You sank to your knees slowly, as if the ground were made of fragile fiber, and when your fingers finally broke the water’s surface, you sighed, letting the current glide over your palms, your touch light and reverent. You closed your eyes and tried to imagine your brothers’ laughter.

You have the river now. But there was no one to splash.

A broken sob escaped your throat. You were glad Neteyam didn’t walk closer, glad that no one would see you cry at something as simple as seeing a river. You let the tears fall, hot and fast, to be washed away by the cool stream. You sniffed and panicked a little when you heard him behind you, though, trying to quickly wipe the tears off your cheeks.

“It’s cold,” you whispered, your voice thick with years of grief. “My father used to say the river was the blood of the Great Mother, always moving, always washing away the old so the new could breathe.”

You lifted a handful of water, watching it spill back into the river like liquid gems. Neteyam stood behind you, his posture rigid. He had seen warriors weep after battle and children cry for their mothers, but he had never seen a soul look so fragile and so ancient all at once. He looked at the faint scars on your back, the fading bruises on your arms, and the healing wounds on your legs and feet, the way you clung to the water, perhaps the only thing that had not betrayed you that which reminds you of your home, sent a surge of raw, primal protectiveness through him.

It was a physical ache in his chest.

“If this were a dream, I should never want to wake up,” you chuckled heartily.

His breathing hitched, his foot stepping forward involuntarily. “You aren't dreaming, Y/N,” he said, finally stepping beside you, “The river is real. And it is yours again.”

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Moons had passed since you had first stepped out onto the high branches of the Hometree. In that time, Neteyam had watched over you with a mixture of awe and concern. You were very determined to learn, and when you said you’d walk the branches day and night to force yourself to accept the dizzying height, you actually did it, that by the end of the first week, you had memorized the labyrinthine pathways of Hometree as if you had been born among them

He didn’t know whether to scold you, or to look at the elders in the council with pride, whenever he hears of a random Omatikaya speaking about how you were always the first to step at the looms, before the sun has even risen, your fingers flying through the fabrics that needed working, while also doing your own little projects with the reeds you had gathered from the river.

Which is another problem of his. You’d memorized your way to the river alone, and some days, that’s where he finds you after frantically looking for you all over the Hometree.

But the progress was deceptive.

There were fluctuations in your behavior that only he seems to notice. Kiri had told him to give you time and Spider had assured him you were simply finding your footing. But no, it keeps him awake at night. One moment, you were a determined and fierce trainee, unflinching and prepared to do what he says. The next, he would reach out to adjust your stance, and you would flinch so violently it was as if he held a knife instead of a guiding hand.

He had spoken to both Mo’at and Norm, trying to get the perspectives of different people if there was any way he could help you. “She is safe here. I would never hurt her, I thought she knows that, but then... Sometimes she looks at me like I am the enemy.”

"The body remembers what the mind tries to forget, Neteyam," Mo’at had told him. "You cannot outrun a shadow. You can only shine enough light to make it disappear."

Meanwhile, Norm had rambled about the mechanisms of trauma and how it makes the body’s memory clash with the thinking brain. You may intellectually know that you are safe, but your body braces for danger because it has been trained to. None of what he has heard helped ease the tightness in his chest, but at least now, he understands what’s going on. All he needed was more patience, more vigilance, especially now that you’re starting to make friends in the clan.

Norm has mentioned about triggers, so he always made sure to have his eyes on you. And this hyper-vigilance he practiced for your safety had, unintentionally, turned into a different kind of obsession. In his desire to look out for a flinch or a trigger, he had become an expert on the smallest, most intimate details of you.

He noticed the exact way your eyes lit up at the sight of utumauti, a fruit you’d grown to like, which he’d quietly ensured was always available to you, despite the arduous nature of getting it. He saw the rhythmic wag of your tail whenever Tuk made you laugh, a sound that he had begun to crave like a parched man craves the river.

Even your hair... That unique, dark auburn curtain... seemed to haunt him. He watched it sway behind you on the branches, or worse, how it would drape over your shoulder, the heavy strands occasionally molding over the curve of your breasts in a way that made him wrestle himself at night. He had never been the type of warrior to linger on the physical forms of the women in the clan. He was the dutiful son, the disciplined leader.

But now?

He was noticing how shapely your thighs were as you climbed and the mesmerizing swirl of the stripes on your face, and your freckles that seemed to glow just a little brighter when you were happy.

It was driving him absolutely insane.

He felt like a creep. He was supposed to be your protector, the one person you could trust completely without fear of being ‘looked at’ as a prize. Yet, here he was, ogling your legs and tracing the lines of your body with his eyes when he thought no one was looking.

The guilt was a heavy weight in his chest. To punish himself, he had placed himself under a strict, self-imposed vow of restraint. He refused to touch himself at all, terrified that the moment he closed his eyes in the dark, your face would be the only thing he saw. Just the fleeting thought of your hands on him was enough to make him brick up almost instantly. It was a physical ache.

He would spend his nights desperately trying to count the stems of the branches he could see to drown out the image of your auburn hair fanned out across his furs.

Fortunately, these thoughts do not follow him when he’s with you, or else, he’d have to beat himself up to straighten his act. He found that you were naturally gifted at throwing, and you’d told him it was a hobby your brothers had, so he focused on that. He watched as you arranged the small knives he got you, its small body shaped like an arrow’s tip, but its handle was wrapped with a wounding fiber like a tree vine, ending in a circular ring.

You seemed particularly vibrant today, your auburn hair tied back to reveal the graceful line of your neck. He tried to focus on your form as you picked a single knife, your body leaning back, muscles in your thighs tensing as you prepared to launch.

“Good form,” he managed to say, his voice sounding raspier than usual, when your knife hit the bull’s eye.

“I’ve been practicing the flick of the wrist like you showed me,” you said, turning to him with an easy, bright smile that made his heart do a somersault. “Was it good?”

You stepped closer to show him your grip, and the scent of you hit him like a physical blow. He stared down at your hand on the knife, then up at your eyes, which were lit with joy. You had such sad eyes when you first got here, that even when you smiled a lot then, it didn’t reach your eyes. Meanwhile, now, you looked like you were finally, truly happy.

“Yes,” he choked out, smiling at you. “You're doing fine.”

You nodded, still smiling, turning to your work.

A few days later, as the midday sun bathe the Hometree with shifting light, Neteyam made his way back from the forest patrol. Usually, his mind was occupied with the security of the borders or the reports for his father, but these days, his thoughts were a frantic tether leading straight back to you.

He found you not at the looms, nor at the Tsahik’s tent, but by the mossy banks of the river. And you were surrounded.

A toddler was currently attempting to climb your back while Tuk, ever the dedicated assistant in the matters of anything concerning fun, performed a dramatic mimicry of a palulukan to keep the child giggling. In your arms, you cradled a small boy, the mother of both children had fallen ill with a fever. You held the baby tenderly, your thumb tracing the small curve of the boy’s ear as you fed him a mash of softened fruit.

You have grown in the hearts of the people, that much is clear. They had taken to calling you sister without you having claimed your ikran yet. He didn’t know whether to be happy about that, or be worried about you overworking yourself. You help with the weavers every day and still find time to help Kiri at the Tsahik’s tent, and train with him. You often take care of kids when needed, and here you are now, occupied with them.

He called out your name, his voice tinged with a worry he couldn't mask, but you looked up at him, your auburn hair catching the light as you offered him an effortless smile.

“Neteyam!” Tuk greeted merrily, jumping and showing him the toddler by lifting the girl by her head.

“Tuk!” you softly called out, and Neteyam took the toddler from Tuk’s hands, both of you stopping yourselves from laughing.

He put the uncaring toddler down on the ground again, kneeling beside you, his eyes scanning your face for signs of exhaustion. “Kiri said you were at the looms since before the first light, and now this? When was the last time you ate? Or sat still without a child or a shuttle in your hands?”

You let out a melodic laugh, the sound warming his chest. “Oh, it’s alright, Neteyam, believe me. I am not hungry, and the children are no bother at all. They are a gift.”

“She’s been telling me stories about the river monsters!” Tuk piped up, finally collapsing onto the moss next to the toddler. “She says they have teeth the size of my head!”

Neteyam listened to his sister’s retelling of your tales, reaching into his pack and pulling out a wrap of dried meat and an utumauti fruit he’d spent his morning patrol getting. He simply began peeling the fruit with his hunting knife, his movements precise and quiet.

“Eat,” he commanded gently, holding a piece out to you.

You chuckled, trying to reach for it despite the baby’s surprisingly strong grip around your fingers. He paused, his golden eyes flickering down to your lips and then back to your eyes. The closeness was dangerous for him, but his concern for your health won out. With a hand that trembled only slightly, he held the fruit to your mouth.

You bit into the fruit, your eyes softening as the sweetness hit your tongue. For a moment, the world felt incredibly small, just the sound of the river, the babble of the children, and the steady, protective presence of the man who had promised you safety and delivered.

“Thank you. You are the kindest,” you teased after swallowing, your tail giving a slow, contented wag behind you.

“And you are the most stubborn,” he countered, a ghost of a smile touching his lips as he watched a stray drop of juice linger on your lower lip. He quickly looked away, handing a piece of fruit to a pleading Tuk to distract himself. But as long as you are safe and fed, I suppose I can live with it, he thought.

But the peace of the riverbank was a fragile thing.

Neteyam had known the moment he saw you that morning. The way you held your shoulders too high, the way your eyes darted toward every sudden shadow, that you sleep had been unkind. Even he was surprised with how attuned to you he is now that he could sense every talltale. You were back in the dark, and though you moved through the Hometree with your usual efficiency, you seemed like you were bracing for a blow.

​By the time you reached the training grounds, the air between you was brittle. During times like this, he’s learned not to speak or move too much, and if it were necessary at all, he’d speak softly and approach you when you’re looking. He watched you grab a cluster of your small knives, and silently began to hurl them.

The knives hit the target so well, he would have felt a heavy heat swirl in his guts, if only you weren’t so obviously troubled. Your rhythm broke. Your face contorted, your lips peeling back over your teeth in a snarl that looked more like a mask of fury than a determined expression. Your aims became wild, the knives thudding into the wood with a frantic, desperate violence.

“Hey…” he called out softly, sensing your anger. You didn't hear him, you reached for another cluster of knives, your breath coming in jagged, animalistic hitches. “Hey!” he said more firmly, stepping into your space.

As he reached out to catch your arms and still your frantic movements, you swiveled with a speed that startled him. You shoved him back, your hands slamming into his chest.

“I hate you! I hate you!” you shrieked, your voice a raw, agonizing sound he had never heard from you. “You killed my family! You killed them all! I hate you! May Eywa strike you down!”

You weren't seeing Neteyam. You were seeing Mokri’s scarred face; you were seeing Ka’lu’s. You rained blows against his chest, your face a fury of grief and hatred, tears rolling down your cheeks. Neteyam didn't stop your blows and shoves, allowing you to let it out, absorbing your pain and your rage, letting you strike him until your strength finally began to fail.

As your knees buckled, threatening to turn you into a puddle on the floor, he caught you. He hauled you against him, wrapping his massive arms around you in a crushingly tight embrace, shielding you from the images in your own head.

“I wanted to kill him, Neteyam…” you sobbed, the words muffled against his skin, your body shaking with the force of your heartbreak. “I want to kill him and I feel like I am as evil as he is… because I want to kill them all.”

Neteyam held you tighter, his own face crumpled in a reflection of your agony. He cradled your head against his chest, his cheek pressed against your hair, hoping his embrace could calm the terror in you.

“To kill him will not make you evil, Y/N,” he murmured. “It will only be justice. And until that day comes, you do not have to carry it alone. I am here.”

He pulled back just a little, his arm still wrapped around you as the other lifted so his large hand could cup your jaw. His golden eyes looked into yours, and you were left wondering how it could be possible for a pair of eyes to be so genuine, so kind, and so... full of adoration, to also hold hardness and a thirst for blood in it.

“Do you understand? I am with you. I will not only share your burden, I will carry it for you.”

Your breathing staggered. You couldn’t quite place the lightness you were feeling at the moment, having let go of at least half of the burden you had carried for a long time, and seeing that instead of recoiling from the darkness you had shown, Neteyam chose to stand with you where you are. And only then, you’d realized how long he had known where you were standing, and how long he had been standing with you.

You could hardly breathe with the relief you were feeling. You looked at him, your eyes red-rimmed and exhausted, but for the first time since you had woken up this morning, your heart felt light. You didn’t know what came over you, but he was so close that you cannot help but lean your forehead against his, a gesture you loved doing to any of your family.

“Thank you, Neteyam...” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

He’s no longer breathing, not when it’s already taking so much of his strength not to shiver as your forehead softly pressed to his, your lips a breath away. It seemed too intimate a gesture, something he had always seen his parents do. Oh, Great Mother, he thought. He wants to kiss you. To feel how soft your lips are... And to wound his fingers into your soft hair.

“You make me wonder what would have happened if my brothers were still alive...” you said, smiling softly.

He didn’t understand what you said at first, he was too busy indulging himself looking at your face this close, but his head jerked a little when he realized what you just said. What the hell did you just say? You pulled away unwittingly, your hand on his arm squeezing to once again thank him, but for him, it was you comforting him because you just likened him to your brothers.

Your brothers!

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Lo’ak’s booming laughter filled the secluded hut, his hand slapping his knee as he doubled over. Next to him, Spider was laughing so hard he had to lean against a wooden pillar just to stay upright. Meanwhile, Neteyam’s eyes fixed on the flickering light of the tallow lamp, and yet, even its dancing flames still seemed to mock him.

He didn’t want to look at either of them. Lo’ak had just returned from Awa’atlu yesterday, brimming with stories he’d shelved for the time being, his full curiosity being snagged by the very fact that his brother had seemed to found a match. He’d been gone too long, but at least Spider was there to fill him in with everything.

Neteyam’s cheeks burned slightly, the fermented fruit wine he had been aggressively downing for the past hour as the main culprit. He doesn’t usually drink, and now he knows he’d probably never do so again. It makes him loose-mouthed, on top of being too dramatic.

“Brothers?” Lo'ak gasped out, wiping a tear of sheer delight from his eye. “She looked you dead in the eyes, bro, with your faces that close to each other... and said you remind her of her brothers?”

“Shut up, Lo'ak,” Neteyam muttered, his voice gravelly as he took another long swig from the clay flask. “And for the record, she didn’t look me dead in the eyes. Y/N doesn’t look people dead in the eyes. She has the most beautiful, expressive eyes—”

“And that probably makes it much worse. She looked at you with loving eyes? Bro, she sees you as a brother!“ Spider chimed in.

Neteyam groaned, a sound that came from the absolute depths of his chest, and buried his face in his hands. It had been three days since your outburst at the training grounds. Three days of him completely overanalyzing every single breath and syllable you had uttered. He understood it intellectually. He did. It means you felt safe with him. You trusted him with all your heart. After everything you had endured, being likened to the family you loved and lost was supposed to be the highest honor.

But brothers?

Couldn't it have been a trusted friend? A best friend? Even an exceptionally reliable protector? Why did it have to be a brother? How was he ever supposed to make you look past that? If you genuinely categorized him as a sibling in your mind, he was doomed. He would never be a lover in your eyes.

He hadn't felt the urge to scream and throw a full-blown tantrum since he was ten years old, but right now, the frustrated man inside him wanted to kick over the firepot. He wanted to march right over to your kelku, wake you up, and demand to know exactly what you meant by that.

But he immediately slap himself back to reality. The meaning was already clear as day. Besides, he knows you wouldn’t appreciate a massive, brooding warrior showing up drunk at your hut in the dead of night. It was probably the absolute quickest way to trigger every single defense mechanism you had. You would be so scared, he was already recoiling at the thought of terrifying you.

And tomorrow was too important. Tomorrow, you were finally climbing the Hallelujah Mountains to tame your ikran alongside a handful of Omatikaya youths. You needed your rest. He wanted to be clear-headed, even though he wouldn’t be there to guide you because there are warriors assigned for that.

With a heavy sigh, Neteyam capped the flask and pushed it away, ignoring Lo’ak’s continued snickering. He would tuck these stupid, selfish thoughts into the darkest corner of his mind. For you, he would be exactly what you needed him to be. Even if it killed him.

By the morning, the heavy fog of the wine had been strictly dealt with. Neteyam had woken up before dawn, running a through the lower brush before plunging himself into the freezing currents of the river to scrub away the lingering stink of alcohol. By the time he walked up to your kelku, he was back to being the perfect soldier.

Except, apparently, you were as keen as a viperwolf.

The moment you stepped out of your pod, your auburn hair neatly bound and your eyes filled with nervous anticipation for the hunt, you stopped. You looked at him, your gaze sweeping over the slight tightness in his jaw and the faint shadow beneath his eyes.

Before he could even greet, you stepped into his space. Your hands lifted, cupping his jawline gently. “Did you sleep late?” you asked, tilting your head.

Neteyam’s breath caught instantly. His throat going completely dry, but he cleared his throat roughly, trying to ignore the way your thumbs lightly brushed his skin. “Not... too late. I was just drinking with Lo’ak and Spider last night. Celebrating his return.”

Your lips pushed forward into a thoughtful, slightly amused pout. Your eyes turned intensely curious, but there was a faint apprehension in them. “Fun... or girl problems?” you asked softly.

His heart actively leapt into his mouth, he literally nearly choked. Did you know? Did Spider happen to sleep walk and mouth off? “A little bit of both,” he lied quickly, his ears twitching. “Lo’ak’s girl problems... anyway.“

You let out a soft chuckle, dropping your hands from his face. “And you?” you asked lightly as you both turned and began walking down the massive, winding ramp of Hometree. “You don’t have one of your own?”

Neteyam kept his gaze fixed on the path ahead, his chest tightening. Oh, I do, he thought. I have a massive one. She’s currently walking right next to me, thinking I’m her brother.

“I do,” he said aloud.

His voice was quiet, but it hit you like an unexpected splash of cold river water. You froze for a fraction of a second before forcing your feet to keep moving, your lips parting in utter surprise. You didn't know how to react.

First, because the concept of Neteyam having a girlfriend or an intended had literally never crossed your mind. He was always with his family, with the patrols, or with you. You had never seen him speak to the other huntresses with anything more than polite, detached respect.

Second... a sudden, suffocating image bloomed in your mind. You imagined a beautiful, flawless huntress standing beside him. Someone with perfect blue skin who moves with the grace of a warrior. Someone who hadn't spent the last eight years weak and enslaved. Someone who wasn't broken.

For some reason, the mental image left a bitter taste in your mouth that your stomach twisted into a tight, uncomfortable knot. You hated it. You immediately hated yourself for feeling it. Neteyam has been nothing but good to you. He was kind, he was patient, he had held you while you screamed your lungs out into his chest. He deserved all the happiness the Great Mother could provide.

Why wouldn't you want him to be happy? Why did the thought of him belonging to someone else make you feel like you’d never see the river again?

You cleared your throat, smiling up at him. “I guess you’d been too busy with me in the past moons, huh?” you sighed, pursing your lips. “I’ll do my best today, I promise, so you’d have more time to pursue your interests again,” you said, reaching up to touch his forearm. “Neteyam, you’d been really kind to me... So, I hope you get whatever your heart desires because you deserve it. I’ll pray for it.” you told him, nodding with serious encouragement.

A horn blew and you grinned at him, turning your back to gather with those who would be claiming their ikran today, leaving Neteyam with his jaw literally slack. How had things come to that? He was careful not to let you misunderstand the reason for his drinking, lying about Lo’ak having girl problems, and it still ended up with you thinking he had girl problems because of two stupid words!

Later, in the Hallelujah Mountains, the high altitude had left your chest tight. You still had fear of heights, despite having stayed at Hometree for several moons now, but it was bearable, especially when the adrenaline pulsing through your veins was pure fire. The teenagers way younger than you had done it, so you saw no reason to be scared and hold back.

It was a beautiful purple ikran that faced you fiercely when you approached and you’d known she has chosen you. You only needed to prove yourself, so you fought her. The ikran was not the usual mount of your people, but you are with the Omatikaya now, and mounting one would prove your place, so you fought until you had done it. You faced the sheer drops, wrestled the wind, and fought the fierce purple ikran until she accepted your bond.

You shriek in pure joy as you flew in the air. The ikran seemed to pick up on your excitement and now, she’s twirling in the air, making you hold tight. Some of the younger claimants rushed to fly back next to you, all of you flying down to the instructed bank. The feeling was indescribable, though a small, quiet part of you had wished that Neteyam was there right beside you.

You landed on the bank, leading your ikran to drink from the stream. You thought you’d look for Neteyam, but before you could even go looking for him, you were intercepted at the lower platforms by Kiri, Spider, and Tuk who were apparently sneaking off to the human facility before the night’s festival began. Tuk practically tackled you in excitement and you were easily enticed to go. Neteyam had brought you there a few times to introduce you to the creatures like Spider, and you remembered being amazed at just how many Spiders live there.

But of course, you quickly understood that they were just like you. There are males and females. They just look different... No tail and no Kuru. And they can’t breathe your air. Neteyam showed you Kiri’s mother. And then showed you Norm, before explaining to you that his father was once just like it, a human driving an Avatar. You had grown remarkably used to the humans and their strange, metal world, even picking up a few things about their language.

At the facility, Kiri encouraged you to try the shower, she said it’s just like rain but from metal. “So, it's like metal rain,” Tuk said, nodding.

Your brows furrowed, looking at the weird thing. Spider went inside to show you how it works. He pressed on something and rain did come out of the thing! Your mouth formed an ‘o’, amazed by it. “That is amazing. You can call rain anytime you want!”

Kiri grinned. “Yes, something like that,” she nodded.

“Is there... A metal river?” you asked.

Spider pushed his lips forward. “A pool? That would be a pool, I think. But... There’s none here. The natural rivers are better anyway, don’t you think?”

You chuckled and nodded. “A lot better, I can imagine.”

“Wanna try this, sister?” Tuk asked, her eyes filled with mischief and excitement, gesturing to the metal rain.

“I guess...” you whispered.

So you tried, and it felt incredible. It did the same thing waterfalls did, only that a waterfall had more pressure, but it did wash away the mountain grime. As a celebration for passing your iknimaya, Kiri presented you with a stunning new loincloth and top made of ombre fibers that shifted from deep violet to soft lavender, coincidentally matching your new ikran. Tuk, determined to add her own touch, spent an hour braiding sections of your dark auburn hair, weaving patterns that sat like a waterfalls atop your head, designed with small, pristine feathers.

By the time the four of you made it back to Hometree, the sun had yielded to darkness, and the festival drums were already loud.

You stopped at the edge of the communal clearing, your eyes scanning the crowd, immediately catching Neteyam in his full warrior gear. His chest sheath and his warrior cummerbund gleamed under the firelight, his skin beautiful against the firelight. He looked every bit the future Olo’eyktan.

As if sensing your gaze, his head snapped in your direction, and his eyes locked onto yours as you offered him a bright, wide-eyed wave. It didn’t leave you even after you joined your usual circle, watching your every move, admiring how the fibers of your top seemed to mold over your peaks, and how the braids on your long, dark auburn hair looked like waters falling.

He was itching to go to you, but because it was a formal festival, he had to take his place on the high dais, eating with his family while the traditional ceremonies took place. But the moment the formalities concluded and the drums shifted to a lively, rhythmic beat for the dancing, Neteyam practically vanished from the dais.

He appeared in front of you, stopping a step away, just watching you look at him. His arms lifted just a fraction, a subtle gesture that looked as if he desperately wanted to hold you but was letting you choose to give it, so you didn't make him wait. You threw yourself forward, stepping up on your tiptoes as you wrapped your arms around his nape, pulling your body flush against his.

“I got a purple ikran!” you breathed excitedly against his ear. “Want to see her?”

“Sure...” he murmured, his voice sounding completely distracted, thick and low.

He didn't pull away, instead, his nose buried into the side of your hair, taking a deep, ragged breath. His large hands came up to wrap around your waist, his long fingers wounding through the soft, clean strands of your hair until they reached the tips at your lower back. He ran his thumbs over the intricate crown of braids Tuk had made.

“You smell like... shampoo,” he noted, the foreign word sounding heavy.

You chuckled, your hands shifting down to rest on his forearms, feeling the firm, warm muscle beneath your palms. “Yes, we took a bath at Spider’s place. They have different stuff for the hair and skin there.” You tilted your head back, looking up at him with a mischievous, happy glow. “They also have this liquid they spray on you that makes you smell like sweet flowers. Smell my neck!”

You bared the smooth line of your throat to him, completely unaware of the absolute war that immediately raged inside him. Neteyam’s breath hitched, angling his head as he leaned into the curve of your neck. He was so close that the tip of his nose grazed the soft skin of your throat, sending a sudden, sharp shiver down your spine that made you let out a breathless chuckle. A sound that made his knees feel momentarily weak.

When he finally pulled back, his golden eyes were dark, burning with a quiet intensity. “Let’s go see your ikran,” he mumbled.

You nodded excitedly, leading him through the winding pathways up to the high roosts. He admired the fierce, purple creature, offering her a respectful nod, before calling for his own ikran. Together, you launched into the cool night air, leaving the noise of the festival behind as you soared through rainforest, eventually settling on a high ledge beside the massive waterfalls where the river starts.

The roar of the water was a familiar soothing sound, but as you caressed the smooth snout of your resting ikran, a sudden wave of melancholy washed over you. Now that you have claimed her, you wouldn't be under his constant supervision anymore. You wouldn't have his mandatory company.

You turned to him, your heart full. “Neteyam...” you called softly, making him stand still. “On the night you saved me in the pavilion,” you began, “I had completely given up. I used to dream about the old songs... About honorable warriors who protect the innocent and the vulnerable... But after so many years, I thought those were just stupid lies told to children.”

You stepped closer to him, your eyes misty but entirely focused on his face.

“But you brought my faith back in them, Neteyam. You showed me that they do still exist. The gallant, chivalrous protectors. You are one of them.”

Neteyam stayed silent for a long moment, the bioluminescence under the water reflecting in his eyes. “But what if I am not so... chivalrous?” he asked quietly.

You swiveled fully toward him, your brows rising in confusion. “Hm?”

He took a deliberate step forward, waiting for that familiar flinch to freeze your features, but it didn't come. You just looked up at him, your expression entirely open and curious. So, he stepped even closer, completely closing the distance between you.

Your eyes involuntarily flickered down his body, being reminded about how you had always quietly admired it. He was built differently than the average male. He carried the broad, heavy shoulder structure and muscled body of his father, but Neteyam seemed even bigger and stood several inches taller than most.

“You spoke this morning about taking up too much of my time,” he said, his voice dropping into that deep register that made you feel flutters in your belly. “And you said that now that you have your ikran, I will have the freedom to pursue my own interests.” He tilted his head, his gaze intensely focused on your face. “But can I really do that? Will you... allow me?”

Your brows furrowed, a soft, puzzled chuckle escaping your lips. “Why shouldn't I? I don’t... own you, Neteyam. I’ve told you, it is my absolute wish for you to get whatever your heart desires because you deserve it.” You lifted your hand, gently resting it against his arm. “Is there something I can help you with?”

Neteyam reached down, his large hand sliding down your forearm to securely clasp your smaller fingers in his. He stared directly into your eyes, his chest rising and falling with a heavy breath.

“I mean... will you allow me... to pursue you?” he asked softly, the words hanging in the misty air between you. “You are my interest, Y/N. You are my heart’s desire.”

The words struck you. Your breath caught, your lips parting in sheer disbelief despite your heart soaring in a wild rhythm as if flutters in your chest. But the old, defensive ghosts in your mind instantly whispered that it couldn't possibly be true.

“Neteyam... no,” you whispered, looking down at your joined hands. “You are probably just... enticed by the novelty. I am new and uh... Well... broken. It will pass in time.”

“It will not,” he intercepted fiercely, his grip on your hand tightening just enough to ground you. He used his other hand to gently lift your jaw, forcing you to look at the raw, undisguised adoration swimming in his eyes. “You are not broken. You are beautiful, and I see you. Give me a chance to prove it to you. Let me show you that my feelings are true. I will court you, Y/N. I will court you according to our ways, according to your ways, until the day you decide I am worthy to be your mate.”

You stared at him. You had never, in your most desperate dreams during those eight years of darkness, ever imagined you would be standing on a mountain peak with a man looking at you like you were his entire world. You had never thought that the stupid dreams younger you had dreamed of would ever come to life. The tears broke free then, hot and wet, but they were entirely from relief.

You lunged forward, throwing your arms around his torso, and Neteyam caught you instantly, burying his face in the crook of your neck as his massive arms crushed you against him in an embrace as a low, contented purr vibrated deep within his chest.

Slowly, you pulled back just enough to frame his face, your hands cupping his strong jawline. You leaned forward and pressed your forehead firmly against his, the intimate gesture that should give him flashbacks, but now feels as intimate as the one his parents shared.

Your other hand slid down to his chest, your palm pressing flat against his skin, feeling the heavy, erratic thudding of his heart beneath his ribs.

“If your heart truly desires mine...” you whispered, your gaze dropping down to his lips, “then I will allow you to win it.”

Neteyam was practically floating when he stepped through the woven entrance of his home that night, the sweet floral scent of the human liquid you had sprayed on your neck seemed permanently bonded to his senses, yet it was nothing compared to the absolute fire burning in his chest.

He expected the receiving area to be empty, thinking most of his family would be asleep by now, but Jake and Neytiri were there, sitting by the dying embers of the hearth. Jake looked up and it took him less than a second to take in his eldest son’s dazed expression, the uncharacteristic swing of his arms, and the massive, helpless smile pulling at his lips. Jake had seen the two of you slip away from the festival earlier, and he knew that look. He had worn it himself under a different canopy, many years ago.

“So,“ Jake said, his voice laced with an amused, knowing rumble. “Did you ask the girl for her hand in courtship, or are you just planning to stare at the ceiling for many nights again?”

Neteyam choked on his own breath, his ears instantly pinning back as a dark violet flush rushed to his cheeks. “I... how did you—”

Neytiri’s head snapped toward her husband, her sharp eyes widening in surprise, though her shock was mostly directed at how straightforward Jake was being. “Ma Jake,” she murmured, a gentle warning in her tone, before her gaze shifted back to her son.

Mo’at had pulled Neytiri aside moons ago, whispering about the alignment the Great Mother had planned. Initially, Neytiri had harbored quiet reservations. Your lineage was good, but your spirit had been heavily burdened, your body kept in a cage for eight long years. She had worried your trauma would hold you back.

But as the moons progressed, Neytiri had seen how you wove yourself into the clan, and above all, she saw her son. She saw the way Neteyam’s eyes tracked your every movement, and how a simple, effortless glance from you would literally made him jump on the soles of his feet, eager to serve, eager to protect. Her son was entirely taken. He had been from the very start.

“And?” Neytiri asked softly, her eyes fixed on her son.

Neteyam cleared his throat, standing taller, though his ears still twitched with embarrassment. “Yes... I asked her. She... she is allowing me to win her heart. I will court her properly.”

Neytiri nodded, a profound sense of peace settling over her features. “She is strong, Neteyam... You will honor her."

Jake’s smile faded slightly, replaced by the heavy gravity of a father and a leader. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “It’s a good path, son. But you need to keep your eyes open. Mokri hasn't forgotten about her. He isn't actively hunting for her, but he’s out there, and he knows she’s hiding.”

The mention of the man’s name caused the warmth in the hut to vanish instantly. Neytiri watched her son closely, noting the sudden, dangerous glint that flashed across Neteyam’s golden eyes. His jaw clenched into a hard, rigid line.

“Let him come,” Neteyam said, his voice dropping into a low, terrifying register that sounded exactly like his father’s war voice. “He will have to tear my heart from my chest before he ever puts a hand on her again.”

Two moons passed since then, and the forest breathed in a rhythm of heat and rain.

Neteyam had kept his word with a devotion that bordered on worship. He courted you openly under the watchful eyes of the clan. But to be honest, he had captured your heart long before the formal courtship ever began. You just hadn't been aware of its depth until now. Looking at him now, you fully understood what your heart wanted. You wanted him.

The sky was dark and peppered with stars when you both guided your ikrans down toward a secluded riverbank, deep within a part of the rainforest where the Omatikaya rarely patrolled. The water here was still, reflecting the bioluminescent moss that clung to it's grounds.

As you slipped off your purple mount, smoothing your hand down her snout, your tail flicked languidly behind you, brushing against Neteyam’s thigh, so with a quiet, playful smirk, his large hand reached out and caught the tip, tugging it teasingly.

You jolted from the intense, tingling sensation, a breathless laugh escaping your lips as you swiveled to face him. For a second, you both stood perfectly still, eyes locked, waiting to see who would launch the first tickle attack. But when Neteyam took a large, deliberate step forward, you shrieked with delight, turning on your heel and running down the mossy bank.

But you didn't get far because he caught you in three paces, his strong arm winding securely around your waist and pulling you up against his chest. You spun around within his hold, your palms slamming flat against his broad chest as he pulled your lower body flush against his. Your fingers traced a path up his warm skin, over his heavy shoulders, until you wrapped your hands securely around his nape. You rose up on your tiptoes, nuzzling your cheek affectionately against the soft skin of his neck. His hands tightened around your waist, squeezing you so hard your breath hitched.

“Neteyam...” you mumbled, pulling back just enough to look him in the eyes. The nervous, hesitant girl was long gone; your gaze was clear, filled with a, solid certainty. You smiled up at him, your hand lifting to gently cup his strong jawline. “I am accepting you. As my mate.”

Neteyam’s smile slowly dropped, and you know by now that it happens when he’s too happy to actually smile. He froze entirely, his breath catching in his throat. He looked down at you, his mind spinning so violently he didn't know whether to crush you in a hug or kiss you hard. He felt like he was floating, experiencing the sensation of flying without ever leaving the ground.

Seeing him completely paralyzed, you took the initiative. You leaned up and pressed your lips softly against his and feeling a violent shudder racked his entire frame at the contact. His hands tightened on your waist, his fingers digging into your hips as if to convince himself you were real. He didn't move his head, completely overwhelmed, allowing you to explore his mouth with little, innocent pecks and soft, testing presses, your head angling as your hands held his face.

But then you pulled away, your wide eyes peering up at him in slight confusion. "Don’t you... like to kiss me?”

And just like that, you seemed to have flipped a switch inside him.

A low, guttural growl tore from his throat. His hand came up, his long fingers tangling into the auburn hair at the back of your head, and he leaned down, crushing his mouth against yours thoroughly.

He was like a parched man who had finally found water after a lifetime in the desert, or a drowning man who had just broke the surface for air. He kissed you with a fierce hunger, his tongue sliding past your lips, claiming your mouth like he had wanted nothing else but do this.

You loved it. You loved witnessing the perfect, disciplined soldier completely come undone in your hands.

“Touch me...” you managed to gasp out against his lips, the words swallowed by another searing, wet kiss.

The command sent an electric shock straight through him. His hands abandoned your waist, moving down your body with a heavy, desperate heat. He touched and squeezed the places he had starved himself of looking at for months. His large palm cupped the curves of your breasts, slid down the dip of your waist, and gripped your firm thighs, pulling you so hard against his groin you could feel the rigid proof of his arousal.

You moaned loudly into his mouth, your head falling back as his kisses trailed down your jawline, burying into the sensitive hollow of your neck. You arched your spine, giving him total access, your hands cradling the back of his head as he licked and bit gently at your skin.

“Neteyam...” you whimpered, your body trembling with a sudden, beautiful fright.

“Stop?” he gasped out, his voice thick and rough with heavy arousal as he pulled back a fraction, his golden eyes wide and dark.

You shook your head frantically. “No. I don’t want you to stop. Please...”

You pulled his head back down, but instead of your mouth, his lips traveled lower, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your throat until they reached where the swell of your breasts started.

Your back arched instinctively, your breath hitching as you reached behind you, your trembling hands unclasping the fiber bindings. Neteyam’s hand on your waist tightened to a desperate grip, his eyes looking up at you in silent, burning question. You didn't say a word, you simply let the top fall, and the soft, woven fibers grazed his abdomen as they slid down between you.

His gaze fell on your bare breasts, the freckles on your skin glowing like stars. His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, his chest heaving.

You angled your face down, capturing his lips just once more, a soft, reassuring press. “It’s yours, Neteyam...” you whispered against his mouth. “I’m all yours.”

A ragged groan escaped him, and you chuckled softly as a massive shudder shook his frame. He leaned down, his mouth opening wide as he took one of your peaks between his lips, his tongue swirling tightly around the pebbled tip.

A sharp gasp tore from your throat, your fingers digging into the hard muscle of his arms as he began to suckle, his other hand moving to heavily fondle and squeeze your other breast. The sensation was overwhelming and a hot, liquid coil tightened deep in your belly as he indulged himself, suckling your breasts as if he could get sustenance from it.

Before your knees could completely give out, Neteyam stepped you backward. You pulled him down with you onto the mossy bank of the river, laying back so he'd follow, your long auburn hair fanning out around your face like a halo of dark fire against the glowing moss. Neteyam followed you down, hovering over you, his massive body casting a shadow that entirely shielded you. He looked down at you, watching you breathe heavily, your eyes dark with desire and completely free of fear, and his breath hitched.

This was the image that had haunted his every fantasy.

Your heart fluttered in your chest at the heated look in his eyes. You’ve spent the last years feeling disgusted over the way men would look at you, but now, your excitement was suffocating you, and as Neteyam looked down at the open, fearless surrender in your golden eyes, a sudden wave of fierce reverence slowed him down.

Your fingers slid from his shoulders to wrap around his nape, your fingers caressing the kuru at the base of his head. That is one difference he had. Yours start at the center top of your head, like the usual Na’vi. At your touch, his control fractured completely. He groaned your name, the sound vibrating deep in his chest as his lips came back down to yours. Your hand cupped his face as he kissed you deeply. It wasn’t gentle at all, it was wet and heavy with unspoken desperation. His tongue swept into your mouth, tasting the sweetness of your gasps, while his large hands slid down your sides.

He gripped your waist, his calloused palms bruisingly tight against your skin as he pulled your lower body up, pressing his rigid length firmly against your center through the thin barrier of both your loinclothes. You let out a broken moan into his mouth, tilting your pelvis instinctively to meet his weight.

Your move made him shudder violently, his hands moving to your back, his fingers untying the soft fibers around your tail and pulling the garment away, leaving you entirely bare beneath him. He shifted, his heavy thigh sliding between yours, forcing your legs wide apart and you bit your lip when the cool air hit your slick center, but it was immediately covered when he leaned down, his mouth abandoning your lips to bite gently at the junction where your neck met your shoulder, making your toes curl.

His hand slid down your abdomen and you caught your breath, your hands clutching at his back, your nails digging into the hard muscles of his spine as his fingers finally found you. He was gentle at first, his thumb finding the swollen nub of your desire, parting you to find the slick heat you were offering him. A loud whimper tore from your throat as he began to move his fingers, tracing your slit, coating his hand in your moisture.

“Neteyam... please,” you gasped, your hips lifting off the ground, seeking more of the agonizing friction. Your trembling hands reached behind him, frantically discarding his loincloth until there was nothing left between you but the heat of your skin.

“I got you,” he growled against your ear, his voice thick and low, completely unraveled by how wet and ready you were for him. “Look at me, baby.”

You forced your heavy eyelids open. Through the dark, his golden eyes were burning, completely fixed on your face. He wanted to see every expression, to know that every sensation you felt was because of him. He reached behind his back, bringing his kuru in front of you. Your eyes snapped up to him.

“Neteyam...” your hand came up to hold his.

His head tilted. “We won’t do it... Without this.”

You licked your lips wet, reaching behind you, and you saw the relief on his face. You brought it between you and his hand moved to press the pink tendrils of his kuru to yours, and you gasped from the jolt it gave you before the surge of his emotions rushed through the bond. You basked jn the warmth of it, the fierce love and protectiveness he holds for you, and the extreme attraction that brought heat to your cheeks.

“You like me...“ you smiled up at him, chuckling.

“Like?” He huffed. “Baby, I love you. Can you feel it?” he asked, his hand squeezing your waist.

You nodded. “I love you, Neteyam...” you whispered. “And I mean... You like me... Like this...”

He raised his brow, his eyes holding yours but you felt his hand on your breast, his thumb brushing the pebbled tip, making you squirm. “Yeah...” he mumbled, his gaze falling down on hand on your breast. “I’ve fantasized about this a lot... You under me,” his eyes snapped back up to yours. “Does that bother you?”

You bit your lip and shook your head, your body shivering with electric excitement. “No,” you mumbled, craning your head to kiss him. “It makes me... excited.“

He smiled, his hand squeezing your breast before he leaned down to kiss you. “Tell me if anything makes you uncomfortable,“ he whispered, pressing quick kisses on your lips. “Promise me?”

You nodded frantically. “I promise,” you said impatiently.

He chuckled, kissing you as he positioned himself against you. You forgot to look between you earlier, and now, you could only imagine what he looked like as the tip of his length pressing against your slick entrance. You watched Neteyam’s jaw lock so tight the muscles jumped, his entire body rigid as he held himself back, waiting for you to breathe.

“Yes?“ he rasped, his hips twitching slightly with the desperate urge to bury himself inside you.

“Now, Neteyam,” you whispered, your hands moving down to grip his hips, pulling him down.

He pushed into you, and you bit your lip as his sharp fullness stretched you open, a gasp escaping your lips. You could tell he was large, and although you were so wet, he was still stretching your walls to their absolute limit. Neteyam groaned, forcing himself to stop halfway when he felt your slight resistance. He buried his face in your neck, his chest heaving against your bare breasts as he waited for you to adjust to him.

You kissed the shell of his ear, wrapping your legs tightly around his waist, locking him in, and arched your back to pull him the rest of the way in, letting out a sharp moan as his cock filled you to the brim. Neteyam let out a groan of pure pleasure from being completely surrounded by your tight, throbbing heat. The sensation was so intense his vision blurred.

You clenched around him, finding the stretch so good. He began to move, pulling back slowly before driving deep into you, his large hands anchoring beneath your hips to lift you into his powerful thrusts. The pace was primal and heavy, and every time his hips slam against yours, a moan broke from your lips, echoing softly along with his grunts.

You lost yourself in the sensation, your brain zeroing in to the feel of his calloused hands gripping your waist, the weight of his chest pressing against your breasts, and the blinding friction of him filling you completely. You fingers tangled in his hair, pulling his face down to yours so you could drink his ragged breaths.

Neteyam was entirely possessed. He increased the pace, his thrusts becoming faster, harder, driven by the way your inner muscles were clamping down tightly around him with every thrust. He felt the tremors starting in your thighs, and the way your breaths were turning into short, frantic pants.

“Neteyam, I—I can't...” you cried out, your head tossing back against the moss as a sudden, intense wave of electricity coiled tight in your lower belly.

“A little more, baby,” he groaned, his thrusts becoming punishingly fast, driving deeper.

A loud cry tore from your throat as your core convulsed, clamping down around him in tight, violent ripples. Your pleasure was the final blow to his control, letting out a guttural groan, his hips driving all the way into you, spilling himself deep inside you, his entire body stiffening as he shook with the force of his own climax.

He collapsed forward, his heavy weight burying you into the moss, his nose digging into your neck. You both lay there for a long time, the only sound being your heavy, desperate gasps and the synchronized beating of your hearts. Slowly, Neteyam shifted, lifting his head to look at you. His golden eyes were soft now, the dangerous hunger gone, replaced by an overwhelming devotion. He leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your swollen lips.

“I love you, baby,” he whispered against your lips, his hand gently smoothing the damp auburn hair away from your face.

You caressed his damp chest, nodding. “Why do you call me baby?” you asked, already too curious since earlier, you just didn’t want to ruin the moment.

He chuckled, his face falling against yours. “It’s just an endearmemt... In the human tongue. It means... you’re my baby. I will love you and protect you, and the children we will have. I will never let you get hurt again, I promise.” he said in a low voice, kissing your lips softly.

You smile widened, your eyes burning with hot tears. You were about to ponder on how far you have come, but then you got distracted by the thought of children. “Will this get me pregnant?” you asked.

He blinked, looking to the side. “I... Well, that I don’t know... I haven’t...”

You watched him as he scratched his temple, struggling to answer.

“Maybe, if we’re lucky. Do you want to?” he asked instead.

“I should like to enjoy with just us two... But if I do get pregnant, then I will be really happy,” you mused, kissing him.

“We will do what you want...” he mumbled, kissing your jaw softly. “And in truth, I want you to first enjoy not having to work yourself too much for a long while. I imagine babies would be a lot of work... and I want you to just rest and know yourself more before we get to that.”

Your smile widened at his words, the warmth of his promise soaking into your skin. You leaned up to give him one more gentle press of your lips, sealing the quiet pact of the life you were going to build together. Your lovemaking was followed by another, and another, another until you’ve fallen asleep with a soft, dreamy haze in your mind. Neteyam refused to untangle himself from you, wrapping his large, muscular frame around your body, warming you from the cold.

When the first light of dawn slipped through the canopy, Neteyam gently nudged you awake with soft kisses along your jawline, making you snuggle closer to him. You both washed in the cool water of the river, the playful touches never ceasing that you probably spent so much time there, just fooling around. After getting dressed, you called for your mounts and took flight into the morning sky, your purple ikran soaring alongside his. You caught Neteyam looking at you, his eyes burning with the proud, fierce light of a man who had finally claimed his match.

You angled your beasts toward the massive structure of Hometree, landing smoothly on the high, sweeping branches of the roost. But the moment your feet touched the platform, the sight of Lo’ak and Spider standing there, their expressions unusually grim, filled you with tension.

“What is it?“ Neteyam asked him.

“Uh... Well, we’ve got a situation downstairs. Her... Her uncle is at the clearing. I swear, I wanted to send him away, but Dad said we need to wait for what she has to say, so...”

Neteyam’s ears instantly flattened against his head, his posture shifting into that of a warrior ready to strike. You blinked, expecting that you’ll feel the usual fear that eats at you... But no. You felt only a fire that propelled you to walk down the winding ramps toward the lower levels.

“What does he want?” Neteyam demanded, his voice a low growl as he followed you.

“He's asking around,” Spider explained, his eyes darting down the ramp. “He was asking Lo'ak and the patrols if anyone had seen his niece. He claims you went missing during the great clan gathering many moons ago. Said he’s been looking for you ever since but couldn't find you.”

Lo'ak scoffed, crossing his arms. “He came here hoping Neteyam might have seen you since my brother was particularly concerned with you that night. If it were up to me, I would've kicked his lying ass straight out of the borders last night. But Dad wanted to wait. He said it’s your choice how to handle this. But don’t worry, we didn't tell him you were actually here.“

Neteyam looked down at you, his large hand sliding down to squeeze yours, offering a steady, unwavering anchor. “You do not have to see him if you do not want to,” he murmured gently. “I can make him leave. Right now.“

You looked into Neteyam’s golden eyes. You weren't that helpless girl who just lost her family and had no one anymore. “No,” you said firmly, your voice steadying. “I want to face him.”

You continued walking down into the wide, communal clearing, and saw Ka’lu standing near the center, visibly haggard, surrounded by warriors who hadn't let him out of their sight the entire time. Jake and Neytiri stood a few paces back, watching with detached expressions.

As you stepped into the firelight of the clearing, Ka’lu’s head snapped up. His eyes widened at the sight of you, his gaze immediately piercing behind you, locking onto Neteyam, who was walking a half-step behind you like an immovable shadow.

Ka’lu cried out your name, taking a frantic step forward before a warrior's spear dropped to bar his path. He threw his hands up, his face contorting into a mask of grand, dramatic relief. “Oh, thank the Great Mother! I have spent the past moons in absolute agony, dying of worry that something terrible had happened to you! If I had only known earlier that Neteyam had rescued you, I would have come to this clan much sooner—“

You stopped a few paces away, your expression cold. “To do what?“ you asked, your voice cutting through his performance. “Bring me to Mokri?”

Ka’lu froze, his mouth hanging open for a fraction of a second, completely speechless. He stammered, shaking his head rapidly. “No! No, of course not! How can you think that? I would have come to get you back, to protect you! I would not give you to him!”

Your eyes narrowed, the memory of that horrible night flooding back, but this time, it didn't break you. “But you were offering me to him that night like a piece of meat, weren't you, uncle? You told me... that if he chooses to mount me, I should just give in to what he wanted. You told me I should do whatever he wants. You even said that if he killed me for daring to answer Neteyam, I should just accept it. You said that, didn't you, uncle?”

Neteyam shifted. He had never heard of this before, and a low hiss of anger and rippled through him. Jake’s eyes darkened completely, and Neytiri’s eyes narrowed into dangerous slits, watching Ka’lu’s face turn pale, the words dying in his throat. He looked around frantically, realizing he had lost the crowd entirely. Still, his desperation pushed him to try one last lie.

“Things... things are different now, Y/N! I swear it! You no longer need to rely on the charity and shelter of the Omatikaya. I have found a better, safer place for us two to live. We can leave right now—“

“She is not going anywhere with you,” Neteyam interrupted.

He stepped fully in front of you, his towering, broad frame completely blocking Ka’lu from your sight. He drew himself up to his full, imposing height as he leveled a look of pure, unadulterated lethal intent at the older male.

“She does not need your shelter,” Neteyam barked, his voice booming across the clearing. “She is my mate.”

Ka’lu staggered back a step, utterly shocked. He blinked, looking from Neteyam’s fierce expression to you, who stood behind him, not knowing just how far his audacity actually reaches. A sickening smile attempted to re-form on his face.

“Your... your mate? My niece?” Ka’lu breathed, his face obvious calculating the political advantage. How had he not thought of this before? If he had known the possibility of Neteyam falling for your charms, he would have gone that route instead of toiling to bring you back to Mokri! “Well... that is wonderful news! Truly great! And in that case... as her only remaining family, perhaps I could stay... here?”

You recoiled in absolute disgust, a heavy weight of disbelief settling over you. The man truly had no shame.

Neteyam kept his deadly focus entirly on Ka’lu, but his hand reached and found yours,  giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “The choice is yours, baby,” he said softly. “I will do whatever your decision is.“

You stepped out from behind Neteyam’s shoulder, looking directly at Ka’lu. “I do not want him to stay,” you decided, your voice ringing clear and absolute. “You are not my uncle, Ka'lu. You said so yourself that night. It is better if we part ways now. Permanently.”

Neteyam nodded once. He took another terrifying step toward Ka’lu, his ears pinning back completely as a low, feral snarl vibrated in his throat.

“You heard her. Go,” Neteyam threatened, his voice dropping into a low growl that made the hair on the back of your neck stand up. “Turn around and walk out of our lands. You should be glad I am letting you leave with your life, because all I want to do right now is tear your throat out with my bare hands. Never show your face near the Omatikaya again. Because if I ever see you on our territory, I will do exactly what I want to do.”

Ka’lu didn't need to be told again. Terror finally overtook his greed, tripping over his own feet as he turned. The warriors led him out and they reported how he practically fled oit into the brush in haste.

The moment you heard that, the immense tension drained from your body. Your legs suddenly felt incredibly shaky, the emotional exhaustion of finally closing that dark chapter hitting you all at once. Neteyam turned instantly, catching you before you could falter, pulling you tightly against his chest and pressing a warm kiss to your temple. You breathed a massive, ragged huff of relief against his skin.

“Wait,” Lo’ak’s voice suddenly broke through the quiet. “Is that actually true? You two are... mated now?”

Neteyam kept his arm securely wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against his side. He looked at his brother, then up at his parents, before offering a firm, incredibly proud nod. “We are. She accepted me as her mate last night.”

Lo’ak gasped, his jaw practically hitting the floor. “And what? You guys just... mated? Right away? Last night? No ceremonies, no clan blessing, no nothing?”

Before Neteyam could defend himself, a dry, raspy chuckle echoed from the edge of the clearing. It was Mo’at, her eyes twinkling with immense satisfaction. “Well,” the Tsahik mused, a knowing smirk playing on her lips. “He is his parents’ son, after all.”

Jake instantly burst into a loud laugh before quickly catching himself and covering it with a loud cough. Neytiri’s ears twitched with a dark violet blush, and she quickly looked away. You looked up at Neteyam, your brow furrowing in genuine, innocent confusion at the inside joke, your eyes silently questioning what the Tsahik meant.

Neteyam looked down at you, the warrior entirely vanishing, replaced by the man who was hopelessly, deeply in love with you. He let out a soft chuckle, leaning down to press a swift, affectionate kiss right to the tip of your nose.

You were nineteen now. The soft roundness of the fourteen-year-old that your mother will always remember has long yielded to the sharpened lean of a huntress. The same dream had plagued you for years and you knew your entire day would be shrouded with grayness. You stood and grabbed your spear, its blade carved from crystal coral.

You didn't look at your older sister who was still sleeping peacefully next to your hammock. You didn't want Tsireya’s comfort, because it always came with a plea for forgiveness and understanding for the Sullys. The morning mist was thick as you made your way to the docks and saw that you were not the only one up. Near the edge of the water, a figure was preparing his mount.

Even from a distance, you recognized the way the man carried himself with a different strength and grace you don’t see among the men of your clan. “You're late for the patrol check,” you said, your voice cutting through the mist.

He turned, now a man fully grown, his braids longer and his stature a mimic of his legendary father. He simply tightened his grip on his ride’s harness. “The sun hasn't broken the horizon,” he pointed out.

You lifted your chin up, looking down at him who is already submerged in the water while you’re still on the woven pathway. “The sky people don't wait for the sun. I bet you know that,” you snapped. You tried to look past the way the morning light caught the patterns on his skin. The patterns you once thought Eywa had spent extra of her precious time on... You still think that, and it’s annoying.

“I understand. It won’t happen again,“ he said softly. His voice had deepened over the years, becoming a calm anchor that usually soothed others. To you, it only sounded like he was avoiding an argument by placating you with words.

“See that it doesn't,” you said, turning your back on him and walking to the other side of the village to dive into the water.

The cold water of the reef was the only thing that felt honest anymore. As you dove, the pressure against your skin comforted your from your nightmare. You spent the morning in the deeper currents, hunting for a silver-finned fish. It was solitary work, the kind that allowed you to sharpen your focus until the world was reduced to the tip of your spear and the shadow of your prey. But the solitude didn't last.

Breaking the surface for air, you saw them. A patrol of Metkayina warriors moving in a synchronized glide, and right at the center was Neteyam. Even among your own people, he stood out, riding his skimwing with a disciplined, military precision that is so distinct compared to the fluid nature of your people.

You saw his head turned, his eyes locking onto yours immediately despite the distance. You don’t know why he's always had his eyes on you but you felt the familiar heat of irritation rise in your chest all the same. You know that your siblings constantly worry for you, your father even more so, and this heavy, watchful gaze from someone you know had always been the guardian felt like an insult.

He guards you on behalf of your siblings, you have long concluded. So, with a sharp roll of your eyes, you tugged your mount's reins and dove back into the water, leaving nothing but a mocking splash in your wake. Much later, you had returned to the village with a successful haul, but the grayness of your morning had turned into a desperate, hollow boredom and so you found Kxat by the mangroves. He was your second “interest“ just this moon, a boytoy, if you will.

You don’t even like him. He was simply a man with strong arms and a head full of empty flattery. He was merely a distraction, and more importantly, he was a way to watch your father’s forehead crease in silent disappointment and your brother’s jaw tighten with displeasure. You are not your perfect sister, alright. You are just you, the one they left behind when they took on mature duties following your mother's death.

As you led Kxat into the thick shadows of the woods behind the village, you felt the thrill of the hunt. Not for any prey, but for a reaction. You pushed him against a moss-covered trunk, the air thick with the scent of damp soil so different from the smell of the salt air from the sea. He leaned in to kiss you and you kissed him back, his hands wandering with a clumsy boldness toward your chest.

But before he could fully touch you, the sound of a dry branch snapping under a heavy foot alerted both of you to a presence. You can’t help but smirk as you moved your lips away from Kxat. Like clockwork. You pulled away slowly, smoothing your hair with a practiced nonchalance as you turned to find the intruder.

Neteyam stood ten paces away. His face was a mask of stone, his scarred and broad chest on display. He looked like the perfect image of a warrior carved from stone, unmoved by the intimacy he had just interrupted.

“Your brother is looking for you,” he said, his voice dropping into a cold clip. He didn't even spare Kxat a look, as if the other man didn't exist. He turned his back, ready to walk away.

“Can’t that wait?” you called out, your voice dripping with honeyed venom. You leaned back against the tree. “You see, I’m having fun here.”

He stopped, turning back slowly, his eyes narrowing until they were slivers of molten gold. “No, it can’t,” he said, his gaze finally flicking to you. “And I doubt that. You looked nauseous.”

The insult hit like a physical slap, but before you could snap back, Neteyam shifted his focus to Kxat. He simply looked at him, standing there with the quiet, terrifying authority of a commander, a look that always reminded everyone that while the Metkayina were his hosts, he is still the firstborn son of fearsome war leaders.

Kxat, who had been acting so bold with you only a minute ago, withered. He lowered his gaze, his shoulders slumping as he wrangled his hands. “I... I should go,” Kxat stammered, not even looking at you before he scrambled away.

You watched him go with a sneer of pure disgust. Weak. Another one. You turned your fury back on Neteyam, who was already starting to walk away again. “You have no right!” you hissed, stepping after him. “You don’t get to scare off the men I’m with just because you’ve decided to play babysitter!”

Neteyam didn't stop. He didn't even look back to see how angry you are. “I don’t care who he is to you,” he said over his shoulder, his voice firm on. “If he were half the man you pretend he is, he wouldn’t have run. You’re wasting your time on cowards who probably wouldn’t be able to stand in front of your father and ask for your hand. Your brother expects you, princess.”

He left you standing there, your chest heaving with a rage that felt dangerously like something else. He was infuriating. He was so arrogant. And the worst part, the part that made you want to scream, was that he was right. All of those men were weak. No matter how many men you brought to the woods, they all crumbled the moment Neteyam te Suli appeared to remind you who you are to this clan.

You stomped through the village, the woven walkways yielding against the soles of your feet. You didn't care who saw your temper. The gray cloud from your nightmare had turned into a storm cloud over your head. You found Ao’nung near the training sands, sharpening a set of practice spears. He didn't even have to look up to know it was you, the crass way you approached him gave you away.

“Tell your watchman to leave me alone!” you hissed, slamming your hand against the wooden rack beside him.

Ao’nung blinked, looking up with a confused frown. “What are you talking about?”

“Neteyam!“ you snapped, pacing the small space. “He’s a parasite! Every time I turn around, there he is, looming and acting like he owns the woods. Did you order him to watch me? Did you send him? Did you tell him to go find me and ruin my afternoon?”

Ao’nung set the spear down, a slow sigh escaping him. “I didn’t send him to do anything specific. We were discussing patrol routes. He just... offered to go get you. It’s not intentional.”

“Offered to go get me?” you growled.

His eyes narrowed then, his protective brotherly instincts finally catching up to the context of your anger. “Wait. You were with someone? Again? While the sun is still up?” He stood to his full height, his face hardening into an expression that looked like your father’s. “You’re fooling around again?”

“Oh, for the Great Mother's sake,” you groaned, flicking a hand dismissively. “Is it such an issue? I’m nineteen, Ao’nung. Mother was already mated and pregnant with you at this age. I’m just living.”

“That is exactly the point!“ Ao’nung stepped closer, his voice an angry rasp. “Mother was mated! She chose a warrior of honor. You have no interest in actually taking a mate. You’re just fooling around to make a point. You are a daughter of the Olo’eyktan! These worthless, spineless men do not deserve to even stand in your shadow, yet you let them touch you just to spite us!”

You rolled your eyes so hard it hurt, moving past him to sit lazily on a pile of woven mats, looking bored. “Are you done? Or do you have more rehearsed speeches about my virtue? Tell me what you called me for so I can go back to having fun.“

Ao’nung went quiet. He looked at you, then looked toward the path where Neteyam had likely returned from. A strange shadow of realization crossed his face. “I... I actually didn't have anything urgent to say to you,” he admitted slowly.

Your head snapped up, your eyes narrowing. “Then why am I here?”

Ao’nung tried to remember what had happened. Neteyam came to talk to him about the western reef patrols. He couldn’t even remember how the conversation veered to you, but he remembered Neteyam telling him he needed to speak with you for some reason and when he said he’d talk to you when he sees you you next, the man had looked him right in the eye and said, ’You can talk to her now. I saw where she is.’

Ao’nung tilted his head, his gaze lingering on you with a sudden, sharp enlightenment. He remembered how many times Neteyam had happened to be the one to find you, he’d practically lost count of it over the years. He remembered how Neteyam’s jaw would set whenever your name was mentioned in relation to the village boys. You had always been very restless, hot-tempered like Ronal, that Tonowari himself had long given up in his attempts to straighten you up.

They all have, to be honest. You were of age, after all. It was only Neteyam that seemed to still guard you, which is funny, because he doesn’t even guard his own sister. A slow, knowing smirk began to tug at the corner of Ao’nung’s mouth, a look that made you feel suddenly very anxious.

“What?“ you demanded, feeling a prickle of unease. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Nothing,” he said, his tone suddenly much lighter, almost playful. He picked back up his spear, his anger seemingly vanished. He just found the perfect solution so that your ‘boytoys’ will no longer be a worry for them. It seems you’ve already met someone who has the guts to challenge you. You just haven't realized it yet.

“What is that supposed to mean?” you barked, standing up.

“Nothing. Just...” he looked at you again and stifled a smirk. “Go on with your day.”

He turned on his heels and walked away. If you want to keep fooling around, you might want to find a place where a certain Omatikaya warrior isn't constantly watching your every move. But he doubts such a place exists.

You were with Neteyam and several hunters in the next morning patrol near the reef. You were on a long range scout in the southwest, having parted ways with the team so you could patrol each corner of the reefs, when you heard the familiar groan of engines, a sound that always made you tremble in anger.

You gritted your teeth at the sight of a small gray vessel. A familiar large weapon on its deck, followed by a larger black vessel. They were too close to the tulkun calving grounds.

“Stay low!” Neteyam’s voice commanded over the waves. He was leading the wing, his skimwing cutting through the water toward you. “We observe and report. Do not engage unless they cross the reef line.”

Observe and report. The words grated in your ears and it made you tilt you head. You looked at the metal ships and sniffed, knowing that inside those metals were the same demons who killed your mother. Your vision blurred red.

“Observe this,” you hissed under your breath.

You tapped your skimwing into formation before it drove into the deep water. You have never been a rule follower, but you try. However, you can’t possibly let a situation like this slide... your blood demanded a debt be paid. As the scout vessel turned to track the unusual movements underwater, you broke the surface, locking a spear into your thrower and throwing it with all the force your arm can give.

You saw it punch through the glass of the scout’s cockpit, impaling the pilot and making the boat swerve violently. You saw four men with guns looking for where it came from. One of them saw you, but you didn’t wait for him to aim his rifle, launching another spear, catching the man in the chest.

“Y/N, back off!” You heard Neteyam scream, his mount cutting through the waters with lethal efficiency.

You ignored him to throw another spear for the man on the deck who was trying to deploy a sonar buoy. The kind that deafened the tulkun. The spear hit him square in the neck and you felt a grim satisfaction upon seeing him fall into the water, the water blooming into the same crimson shade as your nightmares.

Your trembling hands reached for another spear but a heavy weight slammed into your side. Neteyam had driven his mount right into yours! Before you could even look at him, his large hand had already gripped the reins of your skimwing to force it into a deep dive. You squirmed in protest but the sight of bullets piercing through the waters like lethal hailstones made you drive you skimwing deeper.

The muffled sound of bullets passing through the water above you made you look back to Neteyam, seeing him drive his skimwing faster to follow you. You both didn’t stop until you were far enough, breaking the surface for air. But Neteyam continued moving until you both reached the shore near the village.

You were shaking, and you know that it didn’t have anything to do with the fear, but from the sheer electricity of the kill. This isn’t the first time, because you had killed a few before, in the battle years ago... But this, it provides the thrill of revenge.

Neteyam vaulted off his mount and waded toward you, his face no longer a mask of stone. It was a mask of fury. You saw his arm bleeding and your eyes widened. “Neteyam—”

“You are careless!” he roared, his hands frantic on your arms, checking for any wound as if he wasn’t wounded himself. He was literally heaving, closing his eyes to calm himself down after he’s checked your arms, chest, and shoulders for anything. “You could have been killed! They had a turret tracking you!”

You were breathing as heavily as he does, shoving his hands off you. “I killed three of them! They were going to the calves!”

“I know,“ he said, his voice calmer now. “But you cannot risk yourself like that. You are the daughter of the Olo’eyktan—”

“I am the daughter of the woman they murdered!” you screamed, your voice cracking with the weight of grief. You stepped closer until his breath fans your forehead. “You can hide behind your discipline, because I know that you're scared, Neteyam. You've been scared since the day you ran from the forest from whence you came. But I will not hide from the demons who filled the sea with my mother’s blood!”

The silence that followed was sharp enough to cut. Neteyam’s jaw tightened so hard you heard his teeth gritting. His gaze dropped to your mouth, then back to your eyes, his nostrils flaring.

“You think I'm scared?” he whispered, his voice dropping into a low, dangerous rumble that made the hair on your arms stand up. “You think I don't want to kill every one of those demons until they are all gone?”

He stepped even closer, his presence overwhelming you that you unconsciously stepped back, a move that brought heat to your cheeks. Shame!

“I am trying to keep you alive, you stubborn, arrogant girl. Because unlike those boys you lure into the woods, I actually know what it's like to lose a world. And I will not let you be the next thing the ocean takes.”

Your nose flared. “Stay out of my way,” you hissed, though your heart was suddenly hammering against your ribs for an entirely different reason.

“I can’t do that,“ he said, his voice soft but terrifyingly firm. “And I won’t. I will not obey you.”

He turned away to walk, and you watched him glance at his arm, and probably only saw then the wound on his arm. You heard him hiss and your hands trembled. He is annoying. Infuriating and meddlesome and a parasite. But as you watched him walk with his arm bleeding, you felt a pinch in your heart and some anger for yourself for having caused that.

Neteyam made his way back to the village, going straight to the healer’s tent, walking with a bravado that didn’t belong on a wounded man. He heard Lo’ak’s voice mingling with Tsireya’s, hissing under his breath that the two had to be here at this hour. He was aiming for a random healer to tend to him, so he won’t be asked any questions.

He moved the beaded curtains and walked inside, making Lo’ak snap his head to his direction.

“What happened, brother?” Lo’ak asked, his eyes wide with panic as he saw the state of Neteyam’s arm.

Neteyam didn't answer immediately. He was standing like a pillar, his face still that infuriating, stoic mask even as blood trailed down his bicep. But the moment you stormed in, he whirled around, his golden eyes widening, flickering with surprise.

“Give me your arm,” you commanded, your voice hard enough to crack stone.

“Did you shoot him?” Lo’ak blurted out in horror, his gaze darting between you and his brother.

Your head snapped toward him, a snarl curling your lip, but Neteyam’s voice boomed before you could lash out. “No!”

"Then what happened?" Lo’ak pressed.

Tsireya moved closer, her hands reaching for a bowl of clean water. “It is a bullet wound. Thankfully, only a graze. Let me see it, Neteyam.”

“No. I got him,“ you said, stepping toward him and he met you halfway, his gaze never leaving yours. You reached out and Neteyam offered his arm with a heavy submission that made your heart stutter.

“Does she even know how to treat that?” Lo’ak muttered, his worry making him bold. “She doesn’t have formal healer training.”

“She is a Tsahik’s daughter, Lo’ak. Of course, she had training.” Tsireya whispered, before her eyes met yours with a soft, knowing look. “You got it, sister?”

You nodded firmly and you gave Lo’ak a final, lethal glare until he withered.

“Well, then... I guess we’ll leave you for now,” Tsireya said, her voice laced with a strange, quiet satisfaction as she grabbed Lo’ak by the elbow and dragged him toward the exit.

“What if she purposely causes an infection or something—”

“She won’t do that!” Tsireya hissed, her voice fading as they disappeared behind the beaded curtain.

Then, there was only the two of you.

Neteyam didn't need to be told, he lowered himself onto the mat, and you followed, your knees hitting the floor. Up close, the graze looked worse. There was an angry jagged wound in his skin where the metal had hissed past, leaving the flesh raw. You bit your lip so hard until you tasted a metallic tang. You deserve that.

You worked in silence, cleaning the wound with meticulous care, your fingers, usually so steady on a spear, trembling just enough that you hoped he wouldn't notice. You applied the poultice, the cool herbs to make him feel better. You were so careful, so precise, treating his skin as if it were the most fragile thing in the world.

Meanwhile, Neteyam was so still you wondered if he were even breathing. He watched your face, savoring the fact that he was this close to you. You can’t believe you were a little too conscious about it though, because you could feel his gaze like it was a physical touch. On your forehead, your cheeks, your lips.

Finally, you bound it with a gauze softer than it required.

“Thank you,” he said softly, as you were cleaning the supplies. You supposed you were guilty... But in truth, you cannot shake off the anger you have for yourself right now that he was wounded because of your recklessness. You could barely breathe with how tight your chest feels.

“I’m sorry...” You expected the words to feel like stones in your throat, but you didn't feel the weight you expected. Instead, you felt a burn on your cheeks so embarrassingly hot that you couldn't stay a second longer. You didn't wait for his reaction. You stood up abruptly and bolted out of the tent, the beaded curtains clattering violently in your wake.

Inside the tent, Neteyam remained on the mat, his lips parted in a breath of pure disbelief. It was as if a tornado had just swept through and left him in the eye of the storm. He let out a huff of a laugh, his chest deflating as he leaned back. The anger he had felt on the reef, the exhaustion of the patrol... It was all gone. Just two words. You had given him two words, and he felt as though he were melting into the floorboards.

He closed his eyes, his heart hammering a slow, rhythmic drum against his ribs. He had spent years receiving the sharp end of your anger, guarding you, and watching you from the shadows. And now, as the warmth of your apology enveloped him, you got him deeper on his knees on the sand, ready to crawl for whatever you can give.

Remember that seed that sprouted in Ao’nung’s head weeks ago? It didn’t simply just sit there, it took root, and grew vines. Vines that now reached Tonowari, because Ao’nung had not been anything but a constant buzz in his father’s ear, pitching the idea of a union like a trader auctioning a rare pearl.

At first, Tonowari had been hesitant, thinking of your volatile temper and the respect he has for the Sullys. He wanted a good match for you, yes, but the Sullys, no matter how long they had been here, living the ways of his people, are still his prime guests. Neteyam is the firstborn son of Toruk Makto. And you... You had not matured yet, not at all. You loved fooling around and the Sullys are a witness to your behavior.

But then, he started looking.

And he couldn’t believed just how much he missed out on you. And on those who have watched you from afar. One quiet evening, Tonowari had been walking the outer docks, seeking tranquil of the tides when he spotted a figure sitting on the sand far enough that he almost couldn’t recognize who it was. But he knew.

It was you, sitting there with your knees pulled to your chest, staring out at the horizon where the sky met the sea, the spot where your mother had never returned from. You looked small and for the first time in years, you looked like the fourteen-year-old girl who had lost her world. He felt a pinch in his heart.

He had been so blinded with your snappy wit, your laughter, and the temper you’d gotten from your mother, that he didn’t see how lonely you were while he, Ao’nung, and Tsireya all faced a bigger duty than they did before. He thought he’d done his part by making sure you were not burdened with duty and expectations... But you were certainly burdened with something else entirely and none of them had seen that.

Tonowari moved to step forward, fully intending to go to you, and give you comfort. But he stopped when he realized he wasn't the only one watching.

Neteyam was standing in the shadows of a nearby tree. His stance told him he wasn’t going to approach you and he remembered how years ago, when Ronal died, Neteyam tried to hold you and you snapped at him... Blaming him and his family for what happened. Tonowari thinks that Neteyam seemed to know better now, but he was still there, leaning against the tree, his eyes fixed on your back with a look of such profound, aching tenderness that it made Tonowari’s breath catch.

From where he stood, he could see that Neteyam sees past the troublesome or wanton daughter that the village gossiped about. He watched the way you wiped your cheek, and Tonowari saw Neteyam’s hand twitch, his fingers curling into a fist as if he were physically fighting the urge to go to you and pull you into his arms.

The came the day at the training sands. Ao’nung wouldn’t stop whispering in his ears. He had seen it, alright, Neteyam at least. But he wasn’t sure if Neteyam were simply empathizing with you, or if it stemmed from somewhere deeper in him.

He watched you stand at the edge of the training sands, ostensibly there to sharpen the blade of your spear. Both your father and brother watched from the shade of the pavilion as Neteyam led a group of young hunters through spear drills, his blue skin glistening with sweat, the powerful muscles of his back and shoulders rippling with every strike.

They saw the way you stood perfectly still, your eyes traveling shamelessly on the muscles on his broad back, and the strength in his arms. You were ogling him, plain as day, biting your lower lip just slightly when he lunged. But the moment Neteyam sensed your gaze and turned around, wiping sweat from his brow and offering a small, questioning tilt of his head, your face contorted into a mask of pure annoyance.

“What are you looking at, forest boy?” you had barked, loud enough for half the beach to hear. “Correct your grip! You’re swinging that spear like a clumsy child!”

Neteyam had only blinked, a flicker of amusement crossing his face before he looked back to his students. Meanwhile, you have sassily turned your back on him, looking over your shoulder probably to check if he looks at you again, and he did. He looked over his shoulder the same time you did. You snarled and Neteyam quickly turned his back like a child caught not sleeping during siesta.

Ao’nung giggled. “You see, Father?” Ao’nung had whispered then.

Oh, Tonowari had seen, alright, and he definitely shouldn’t have, for Eywa’s sake. He wish he had Ronal with him in this moment. He wondered what his wife would have done after seeing her youngest daughter practically ogle a man, and act like she doesn't know whether to kiss him or spear him. And the man? He is the only one who doesn't flinch when she screams.

Several days later, the village was gathered for the communal dinner. The smell of roasted fish filled the air and the fire roared at the center of the circle. You were in the middle of your rowdy group instead of sitting at the dais among your family, being louder than necessary and aughing with your head thrown back.

Ao’nung sat close to Tonowari, leaning in as the firelight danced in his eyes. “Watch,” he prompted.

And so Tonowari watched, feeling a little ashamed with how invested he is with this. Neteyam was sitting with the warriors, his posture straight, and his face impassive. It was in moments like this that showed how beyond his years he seemed to me, a man who had grown up too fast in the shadow of war. He was listening to the warriors talk around him, but his eyes were fixed across the fire, just... watching. Something Tonowari and Ao’nung are both so aware now.

They both felt stupid having not noticed something so obvious before, especially when Neteyam looks as though he is guarding a treasure he hasn't even claimed yet. He doesn't even look at any of the other girls this way. Not even the ones who actually try to get his attention.

Across the fire, you were in the middle of a story, gesturing wildly, but every few seconds, your gaze would break away from your friends, snapping to where Neteyam is, and for a heartbeat, your rowdiness seemed to vanish. Your laughter dying down unconsciously, your hand dropping to your lap. You realized you were staring and quickly rolled your eyes, tossing your hair back and snapping a rude comment to the boy sitting next to you. 

But the effect was clear: Neteyam’s attention had literally made you behave. Neteyam looked down at his food, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“I don’t know about you, Father,” Ao’nung said, his voice a low rumble of conviction. “But I see a match. And remember what Mother thought of him? Even when she was wary of the Sullys, she favored him.”

Tonowari leaned back, his massive chest expanding as he took a deep breath. He watched you. His youngest, his wild skimwing, and then he looked at the stoic, unbreakable young man who seemed to be the only one capable of clipping your wings without hurting you.

“Neteyam is a man of honor,“ Tonowari agreed, his voice thoughtful. 

Ao’nung grinned. “Betroth them. It settles her, it secures an alliance with Toruk Makto’s bloodline, and most importantly... it gives her someone she can't scare away.”

Tonowari nodded slowly, his decision solidifying. You, on the other hand, was blissfully unaware of what schemes were cooking in your midst. The morning after the communal dinner, you found yourself in the family pod with your sister. Tsireya was the image of Metkayina grace, her hands moving gracefully as she sorted through dried medicinal herbs. She was the good daughter, and sometimes, looking at her felt like staring at a mirror that only showed you what you lacked.

“You were loud last night,” Tsireya said softly, not looking up from her work. “Even for you, little sister.”

“Better than filling it with the silence of the absent.”

Tsireya paused, her eyes lifting to yours, shimmering with a pity that made you want to snarl. “It has been five years, sister... Mother would not want you to live your life like this... She would want you to find peace. Perhaps even... a partner to share it with."

“I have plenty of partners,“ you snapped, standing up and grabbing your crossbow. “Ask Ao'nung. He seems to have a list of them to lecture me about.”

“Those boys are not partners,” Tsireya countered, her voice gaining a rare edge. “They are distractions. You choose men who are easy to break because you are afraid of someone who might actually hold you together.”

“I don't need holding together!” you snapped, your voice echoing as you stormed out before she could respond, feeling both irritated and guilty for feeling it.

Tsireya didn’t deserve your anger. You had both lost your mother and she had to take on a role no fifteen-year-old was ever ready for. You stopped on the walkway, looking over your shoulder and debating whether to go back and say sorry... But you were still angry, and you think it wouldn’t be so sincere to force yourself to do it now.

So you headed for the tide pools, needing the cool water to relieve the heat in your blood. But fate had other plans. Neteyam was there, knee-deep in the shallow water, repairing a broken Ilu pen. He was alone, his long braids slightly pulled back, his brow furrowed in concentration. As soon as you saw him, the irritation from your talk with Tsireya found a new target.

“We have the people for this,” you called out, stalking toward the water's edge. “Or are you so desperate to be useful that you’ve taken up the work of laborers?”

Neteyam didn't flinch or look up. He simply pulled the fibers taut and knotted it. “The pen was broken. I have hands. It seemed a simple equation, princess”

You stepped into the water, the cool waves splashing against your calves, and marched right up to him. You were shorter than him, but your chin tilted high.

“You’re doing it wrong,” you lied, reaching out to swat at the rope he was holding. “The knot needs to be beneath the crossbar, otherwise the tide will fray it. But I suppose a forest dweller wouldn't understand how the sea eats away at things.”

Finally, Neteyam looked at you, still not angry or intimated. He looked at you with that same calm, steady intensity that always made you feel so exposed... As though you were naked.

“Then show me,” he said, his voice low. He held out the rope toward you.

You blinked, caught off guard by his lack of resistance. “What?”

“Show me,” he repeated with challenge in his eyes. “If I’m not doing it right, then teach me the right way. I am a fast learner.”

You stared at him with narrowed eyes and he met you with the usual intensity, making you roll your eyes, grabbing the rope from his hand, your fingers brushing against his skin. The contact sent a jolt through you that you chose to interpret simply as annoyance. You began to tie the knot with aggressive, jerky movements, your breathing heavy.

“You think you're so patient,“ you hissed, not looking at him. “You think if you just stand there and take it, I'll eventually stop biting. You’re wrong.”

He watched you, his head tilted. He knows this. You are the daughter that took so much from Ronal. He knows you will not soften easily. He expects you to sharpen even more.

“I know whose daughter you are,” Neteyam said. He had moved closer, so close you could feel the heat radiating off him.

You didn’t know why it made your insides shiver. You gaslighted yourself it couldn’t possibly be excitement. But... He wasn't backing down, at all. And you know he will did and he never will. Most men in the village would have retreated by now, but Neteyam stood his ground like a mountain resisting a gale.

“I don't want you to soften,” he whispered, his voice for your ears only. “The sea isn't soft. It’s hard and dangerous. But it also gives life.”

You froze, the knot half-finished. You looked up at him, a sharp retort dying on your tongue. His face was inches from yours, his golden eyes searching yours with a terrifying honesty. “You are a nuisance,” you managed to whisper, though it lacked its usual sharpness.

Neteyam let out a short, quiet breath that sounded like a laugh. He reached out, his hand hovering near your waist before he seemingly caught himself and pulled back. “And you,” he replied, his gaze dropping to your lips for a fraction of a second before meeting your eyes again, "are not as difficult as you believe you are.”

You let go of your half-knotted ropes and stepped away, the water splashing around you. “You begged me to teach you, but you're doing everything but listen. Finish that. I’ll check it when I get back.”

You turned and whistled for your skimwing, your heart hammering a frantic rhythm against your ribs. You didn't look back, but you didn't have to because you could feel his eyes on your back, steady and unyielding, watching his treasure as it tried to run away.

The ride out into the open sea was supposed to clear your head, but all you could feel was the phantom heat of his skin against yours. How dare he move closer to you?! You groaned and dove deep, pushing your skimwing until your lungs burned, trying to drown out the sound of his voice calling you that stupid word you don’t even know the meaning of. Princess. What was that word?

He’d call you that for years and you had no one to ask. Your pride won’t allow you to just go and ask Lo’ak or Kiri about it... Especially because they’d almost certainly know who had been calling you that.

For the next two days, you went out of your way to avoid him, which was nearly impossible in a village built on connected walkways. And now, you found yourself back in the woods at the back of the village, your path lit by the bioluminescence of the plants and the moon filtering through the thick canopy. You held O’nun’s— or was it Ralu?— hand, pulling him closer to you. His hand wounded in your curly hair, leaning down so he could kiss you. Your lips curled before you welcomed his kiss, your ears tuning in for any unusual sound around you.

Ralu’s hands moved lower to your waist, and you pulled away from the kiss, craning your neck, and just then, you saw a shadow detached itself from the darkness. Your eyes widened a fraction and you felt an urge to push Ralu away as his ragged breathing fanned your neck. You watched Neteyam stand there, a tower of solid muscle and silent menace, with his arms crossed over his chest. He didn't even look at the man you were with. He looked only at you, his eyes glowing like two orbs of sun in the dark.

Ralu felt the weight of that gaze before he even saw him and his hands froze on your waist. He looked over, saw the silhouette you were seeing, and his face went pale even in the bioluminescence. He looked at you and you rolled your eyes when you saw how he’s almost ready to bolt, and without a single word of apology to you, without even a backward glance, Ralu scrambled away. He practically tripped over a root in his haste to disappear back into the village.

Weak, you thought. You turned your fury on the dark figure still standing in the clearing. You walked to him, “Tell me, warrior, do you take pleasure in this? Or is it just a hobby now?“

You remembered then what the hunters had been whispering. During combat drills, in which Neteyam is the head of, any man who he had recently seen in your company found themselves at the business end of Neteyam’s fist, hitting them harder and more frequently than anyone else. Now, he didn't need excuses to scare them away anymore; he has weeded them out quite successfully. No man in Awa’atlu wanted to be the next one whose ‘defense’ Neteyam pierces through with an elbow to the ribs.

You walked toward him, your heart hammering a frantic rhythm. You stopped inches from him, your breath hot against his neck, and pressed your palm flat against his broad chest. You felt the protruding, hard muscle of his chest jump beneath your touch. 

“Do you want me only for yourself, warrior?” you taunted, your fingers curling slightly into his skin, caressing the heat of him. “You stop me from having fun... you bar me from every experience. Do you intend to provide my fun instead?” You rose onto your tiptoes, your lips nearly brushing his jaw, challenging him to break.

But Neteyam was a mountain. He didn't move until you tilted your head to kiss him, and then his hand shot out like a vine, settling on your waist, his grip firm and grounding.

“Do not kiss me with the same lips you just kissed another man with,” he said. His voice was deep, and vibrating with a possessive rage that made your insides shiver.

You flared instantly, your pride screaming at the slight. You shoved at his chest, trying to wrench yourself away. “Alright! I’ll go find someone else then! I’ll kiss every man in this village if I please! I am an unbounded woman!”

His other hand caught your opposite arm, pulling you flush against him so quickly the air left your lungs when you landed against the hard wall of his body. “Is that so?” he asked. There was no humor in his voice, only a dark, palpable anger that felt like a storm breaking. 

He knows he should feel ashamed with how possessive he’s feeling about you. But it was what he was feeling... And for the first time in his life, he wanted to be selfish. He’s watched you for years, guarded you from your own recklessness... He’s not going to let some spineless boy have what you’ve been promising him with every look you throw his way.

He leaned down until your noses were a hair breadth away from each other, his eyes locking onto yours with a terrifying honesty. “Go on then,” he whispered, his grip tightening. “See if any of them would dare.”

You opened your mouth to snap back, but your voice failed you. You were trapped between the tree and the man who had effectively cleared your world of everyone but himself.

At the same time back in the village, the atmosphere between Tonowari and Jake Sully was much more formal. Tonowari sought Jake out, and now, a look of grim amusement adorned the face of the legendary war leader as he listened to your father’s proposal.

“You're serious?” Jake asked, rubbing the back of his neck. “My son and your daughter? Tonowari, your daughter... She does not take well to my son. You’re sure you’re not thinking of Tsireya and Lo’ak instead?”

Tonowari shook his head, stifling a chuckle. “I have seen it, Jake Sully. Believe me. My daughter... She has a strong personality. But Neteyam sees her, do you know this?”

Jake’s gaze looked thoughtful. He knows that. He knows his son. “Yes, he does. But your daughter... Wouldn’t she be forced into this?”

“No. She sees him, too, Jake Sully. Trust me,” Tonowari replied.

Jake looked out past the village, into the woods behind the mangroves, where he could just barely see silhouettes of two people, one definitely was his first born. You were stomping back to the village, looking back to Neteyam and seemingly snarling at him, but he saw the sheer amusement in his son’s eyes. He was enjoying this.

He sighed, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Alright,” Jake said, holding out his hand to seal the pact. “Let’s see if they survive the announcement.”

You had only just stepped onto the woven floor, your breath slightly hitching when you saw your father and Jake Sully standing together in a way that felt far too intentional. 

“Great. You're both here,” Tonowari said, his voice booming with a finality that made the hair on your arms stand up.

“What is it?” you asked, shifting your weight. You gave Jake a polite nod but your eyes immediately darted to Neteyam, who had followed you in like a shadow.

As Tonowari laid out the arrangement, all the words hit you like a physical blow. “I I have spoken with Jake Sully,” Tonowari said, locking eyes with you. “To secure the future of our leadership and to ensure the blood of our protectors remains strong, you will be joined. Neteyam is the firstborn of Toruk Makto, a warrior of proven honor. Your union will hold our people together against the coming storms.”

“Joined?” you repeated. “Father, what are you saying?”

“I am saying that you are betrothed, daughter,” Tonowari said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “The ceremonies will begin with the next high tide.”

The silence that followed was deafening. You felt as though the floorboards had turned into thin ice, sending shivers up your body, not of anything resembling anger or betrayal, but of surprise. You looked at Jake, who was watching you with a weary, knowing sort of sympathy, and then finally, you let your gaze snap to Neteyam.

“What?” The word escaped your mouth. Again, not from the feeling of betrayal from your father.

You just simply couldn’t believe it. You hadn’t even thought of this as a possibility. Neteyam... Your mate. That is crazy. Jake watched your face. He’s not stupid to not know your dislike of his family, of the chaos they have brought. Compared to your siblings who have taken to his children well, you were distant and sharp-tongued toward his sons. But right now, he sees no actual protest in your eyes. In fact, your eyes were twinkling, and you were stammering, your lips parting to say something that just wouldn’t come out.

“It is a match of great benefit. It is settled.” Tonowari said, testing your waters.

Neteyam cleared his throat, the sound rough and low. He didn't look surprised at all, he looked like a man who had just been given the coordinates to the only destination he ever wanted.

“Can I say no?“ you asked, though the usual sharpness in your voice was wavering, replaced by a breathless tone.

“No,” Tonowari answered firmly.

You looked at Neteyam, and he met your gaze with a challenge that made you roll your eyes.

“Do you agree to this, Neteyam?” Tonowari asked.

“Yes,” Neteyam couldn’t have answered faster. “If it is the will of the Olo’eyktan... and if it is okay with her.”

You let out a dramatic, frustrated huff, throwing your head back. “As if I have a choice,” you said sharply, trying to hold your reputation tightly. “Fine! Do as you wish!” It was delivered so half-heartedly that you had to turn on your heel to march out before they could see the heat rising to your cheeks.

As you disappeared into the night, Tonowari looked at Jake and let out a short, huffed laugh. “You see? If she truly hated the idea, my ears would still be ringing from her screams. She is going to the docks to poute, and to wait for him to follow.”

Jake smiled, watching his son, who was already shifting his weight, eager to give chase. “Go on, son,” Jake murmured. 

Outside, your mind was a chaotic storm. Your were wrangling your fingers, and a ticklish, electrifying heat was blooming in your chest. You wanted to scream, but not in rage—you wanted to scream because the one thing you had been fighting for five years had just been handed to you by decree. When will the mating be? the thought popped into your head, unbidden and traitorous. Also, why are you excited?!

A hand caught your elbow, firm and warm. You were maneuvered around to face him.

“You okay?” Neteyam asked, his eyes searching yours.

You quickly wore your mask. “It is my duty,” you said sharply. “To the clan. To my father. I do not have the luxury of whim.”

You were acting as if you were forced into it, when the fact was clear as day. It took you like a few seconds to agree. His eyes went dark, a predatory heat settling in them. He didn't care about the politics Tonowari was talking about, he only cared that the barrier he’d been punching through for years will finally be gone. You are his.

The communal dinner the next night was a blur. When Tonowari announced the union, the village erupted. Tsireya squeezed your hand, her eyes misty, while Ao’nung leaned over with a smug grin. “This is a long time coming, sister.”

As you and Neteyam stood on the dais, you do not feel any weight on you. In fact, this is the lightest you've ever felt... You could practically float, but you won’t admit that, not even to yourself. Neteyam stood like the dutiful warrior he is, stone-faced but you knew him well by now. There was no denying the smug light in his eyes. He leaned toward you, his breath hot against your ear.

“You are bounded,” he whispered, the words a low, possessive rumble.

“Not yet mated,” you hissed back, keeping a fake, sharp smile plastered on your face for the crowd.

In one smooth motion, he wrapped a heavy arm around your waist, hauling you flush against the heat of his side. The contact making your knees weak. “Do not let me catch you,” he murmured, his voice dropping into a dark, morbid promise, “or this clan will mourn a brother.”

Your eyes widened, snapping to his face. You expected a joke, but his expression was deadly serious. You never imagined him to be this morbid... He was always the upright and no-fun Sully brother to you. Now, you could feel the back of your nape warming from how blown his pupils were.

Before you could retort, a chorus of hoots and whistles broke out from Lo’ak and the other young hunters, demanding a kiss to seal the betrothal and since you were already looking up at him in shock, Neteyam didn't hesitate. He tilted his head and leaned down, his lips meeting yours in a chaste, firm kiss. It was brief, but it electrified your entire body more than every empty kiss you’d ever shared in the mangroves combined. 

You reached down and pinched his side as hard as you could, but he didn't even wince, he just tightened his grip on your waist and gave the crowd a huge smile that showed his pearly whites. 

The fortnight leading up to your mating were a blur of sensory overload. Everyone was on you. Tsireya and Kiri were busy collecting whatever bright seaweed and shells and pearls they could find, and Tuk was begging for the honor to braid your hair because apparently, she has a particular vision for it, said she’ll braid only the front and put an iridescent seashell she had found in the center. She swore it will make you look like a princess.

“What is that word?” you asked her, thinking this was the perfect opportunity. Tuk is only ten, she wouldn’t piece two and two together. “Princess, I mean.”

She giggled. “It means a beautiful girl in beautiful dresses. The daughter of a King, my Dad told me,” she said.

“What is a King?” you asked.

“A leader, I think. Like my Dad, back in the forest. And like your Dad here, I think,” she said, and she did look thoughtful. “My Dad said my Mom is also a princess, you know? My grandfather was Olo’eyktan. Dad used to tell us a story about a warrior who met a princess and fell deeply in love with her.”

You smiled softly, putting a hand over her small head before your nimble fingers continued weaving luminous sea-grass and pearls into your ceremonial shawl. She’s adorable and very talkative besides. “Alright... I’ll trust your vision. Make me a beautiful princess on the day of my mating,” you said.

She squealed and jumped on the balls of her feet, hugging your neck. “Oh, I will not let you down, sister! My fingers are made especially for braiding. I braid my family's hair! All of them!”

“Even Neteyam’s?“ you blurted out. You can’t imagine his large sitting down in front of his little sister, patiently waiting for her to finish braiding all the strands of his hair.

She grinned. “Yes! He's the most behaved, actually. He doesn’t complain at all,“ she said, smiling to her beads.

You pushed your lips forward. Now, that you could imagine. You can’t imagine him losing his cool. You remembered getting irritated with Lo’ak several times when you were young... You’ve seen how Neteyam looks out for him, how Neteyam takes the blame for his transgressions, and how in turn, he would rebuke Neteyam and call him the perfect and dutiful son, as though they were insults meant to slight. And you saw how they did hurt Neteyam, for some reason.

Of course, Lo’ak had grown past that now.

But as you think of this now, you cannot help but think of your own behavior. How your older siblings had done nothing but look out for you, and how in turn, you showed them the lengths of your ungratefulness. You thought you were useless for not having the same duty they had to carry after your mother died, but you didn’t see how hard they worked to not tip the scale on your side, to not burden you with anything.

You are ungrateful. You wallowed in your pain, in your hatred, and in your grief, but you were not the only one who lost a mother. Your head snapped to the beaded curtains when it clanked, seeing Tsireya with a woven basket of whatever she’s collected. She was humming softly, and she smiled at the sight of you. Hot tears pricked at your eyes and you put your materials down to hold her hand.

She was surprised, obviously, but she quickly put the basket down to let you pull her into a hug. You broke into a sob, hugging her tightly, saying I’m sorry repeatedly, like a little kid. Tuk watched you two with pursed lips, not knowing what to do, but she thought she needed to go and join the hug, so she did, her small head cradled on your head.

“Sorry, what for, sister? You have nothing to say sorry for,” Tsireya said softly.

“There are a lot, sister, believe me. I was so ungrateful to you and Ao’nung... To Father. I thought the world should look at my grief, at how angry I was... That I have forgotten to see the three of you...” you said.

She looked at you with soulful eyes, smiling softly. “We all grieve differently... And I am thankful to whatever measure you took to ensure you would still be here. Mother would be happy to know you are in my arms right now, crying as you would always do when we were kids...”

You sobbed even harder, not even noticing that the curtain had once again clanked to signal a new arrival. It was only when Ao’nung’s voice boomed that you two looked up.

“What’s going on?” he asked, his hand immediately on your shoulder to pull you back and check your face. His face crumpled at the your tear-stained face, and then his head reared back. “Does this match bother you so much, sister? Do you not want it? I will talk to Father, we can always stop this— Ow.“

He stopped talking when you jumped in his arms, throwing your arms around his shoulders to sob. “No,“ you sobbed. “It does not bother me and I do want it!” you said.

He hugged you back, his arms tight around you to pull you as close as possible. “Then why are you crying?“ he asked pointedly.

“I am just very sorry... For everything,“ you said. “I am ungrateful. I am so mean to you and Tsireya and Father... I think only of myself...“ you sobbed.

“Err... And I am handsome and hot..?“ he uttered, his voice laced with humor.

“Ao’nung!” Tsireya’s voice boomed with an unusual fire.

“What? I thought we’re listing facts here!” he said, laughing and wiping your tears as you giggled at what he said. “Come on... I mean. You are mean, but only a fool wouldn’t understand. We lost Mother, and you were practically her tail. Losing her, to you, meant losing half of you. And we understand, you know? Besides, it’s not like nothing's new. You’ve always had that mean girl in you.“

You laughed at what he said again, but your tears were still falling. Tsireya smiled softly, riding hug the two of you, pulling Tuk into the hug because the kid was determined to belong. You sobbed and renewed your hold to include Tuk. Eventually, you all calmed down and Ao’nung had to leave for the training grounds.

The skies were beginning to be a battleground between purple and orange by the time Neteyam returned from his long-range patrol. You were now huddled with a sleeping Tuk, while Tsireya continued your work on your shawl, both of you laughing as you reminisced moments when you were children. But as the beaded curtains clattered, your laughter quiet down.

Neteyam stood there, his eyes immediately finding yours, and you saw the exact moment he registered your face. Your eyes were red-rimmed and swollen from the afternoon’s emotional purging.

He didn't say anything, but his jaw tightened, offering a polite nod to Tsireya while a small, tired smile formed on his face at the sight of Tuk huddled next to you, but his gaze were heavy on you.

“Will you walk with me?” he asked softly. 

You glanced at Tsireya and she teasingly smiled at you, making you roll your eyes. Neteyam had subtly been courting you in the past days, and to be honest, the only thing stopping him from going all out was your preference. He wanted to savour the courtship days, and he thinks it was moving too fast, but he also wouldn’t complain, especially because it’s leading to your mating.

You stood up, followed him out onto the beach. For a while, there was only the sound of the crashing waves.

“Your eyes,” he finally spoke, his voice barely louder than the waves. He stopped walking and turned to face you. “You have been crying. A lot.”

“I have,” you admitted, lifting your chin. “It was... a family matter. We were speaking of Mother.”

Neteyam’s expression softened, but still, a look of genuine, gut-wrenching worry crossed his features. “Is that all it was?” he stepped closer. “Y/N, be honest with me. If this is because of the mating... if you feel the weight of my father and yours pressing you into a life you do not want... tell me now.” He looked down at his hands for a second, then back to you. “I can speak to your father. I will take the blame. I do not want you to look at me and see only a cage.”

The thought of him calling off the mating, the thought of losing the very thing that had secretly kept your heart beating for five years, hit you like a physical strike. You didn't even think before your nose flared.

“No!” You hissed, your fangs almost baring as you stepped into his space. 

Neteyam blinked. “I am trying to give you a choice—”

“Are you?” you barked. “Or are you just saying that because you actually do not want to go through with this? You’ve been forced into this duty, and now you’re looking for an exit!“ You narrowed your eyes. “Is it because of some little forest girl you’ve left behind back home? Some quiet, dutiful Omatikaya girl who doesn't hiss when you look at her?”

Neteyam stood there, his mouth slightly agape, looking utterly dumbfounded. He could barely keep up with how fast you’ve turned the conversation a whole 360 degrees, and you’ve thrown in a silly assumption there, too. He tried to speak twice before the words actually came out. “What? A girl back home?” He let out a breathless, confused sound that was almost a laugh. “No, of course not. Where would you even get such a thing? I have spent my life training to be a warrior, I did not have time for that. I didn't leave anyone behind because there was never anyone else.”

He took a step forward, closing the distance until you had to look up at him. “I want to go through with this. I want to be your mate.”

Your face softened, but then you forced a scowl. “Then don’t ask me that question again!" you hissed, though your voice didn’t hold its usual bite.

He stared at you, his heart hammering so hard he was sure you could hear it. He wanted to reach out, to pull you against him and quiet the frantic energy in your body, but he stayed still. He was trying to piece together your outburst. The little forest girl? A part of him wanted to laugh. Could it be possible that you were jealous?

He didn't dare say it out loud. He knew you well enough to know that if he teased you now, you might actually beat him up to a pulp.

“I won't ask again,” he promised, his voice low and steady. “If you are sure, then I am sure. Three days, princess.”

And three days later, you found yourself at the Cove, wading deep into the water to reach the Spirit Tree, mesmerized by its particular glow tonight. The village elders and your families swim in the surface, watching you two dip further into the waters.

Neteyam reached out and you looked at him with a glowing smile, giving him your hand, his fingers lacing through yours with a grip that promised he would never let you drift away. You faced each other by the time you reached the tree, but its glow rivaled the one in Neteyam’s eyes. You smiled at him, reaching for your kuru, your movements a little shaky, but Neteyam held his halfway, waiting with an agonizing, respectful patience. It was you who closed the distance, guiding your queue to meet his.

The moment the bond snapped into place, your back arched as a physical surge of electricity jolted through your spine. Your pupils dilated until the teal of your eyes was nearly swallowed by black and for a moment, your eyes were marred by streaks of white as you felt a large ball of warmth spread through you.

It was an explosion of color and feeling.

You felt him. There was a devotion so deep it felt like the ocean itself, and an attraction that provided you warmth in the chill of the water. Some visions began to flow. In your mind’s eye, you saw yourself through his perspective. You saw a version of yourself from years ago, riding your ilu through the crest of a wave, laughing with a carefree joy you’ve never known since. You were beautiful, radiant, and in that memory, you felt the exact moment Neteyam’s heart had been captured.

But as the bond deepened, you felt as though the waters had flowed into uncharted territories and the golden glow yielded to grayness. You felt his crushing grief for you when your mother died. You felt the weight of his guilt for being who he is, for being part of the reason your world had shattered. Your eyes snapped open underwater, seeing his features crumpling in pain as he absorbed the sheer magnitude of your own feelings.

His heart was beautiful. And you know that yours was ugly.

His end of the bond was flooded with what you had carried. Anger, resentment, and the bitter hatred. It was heavy, toxic, and you felt him taking it all, letting your poison flow into him without a single flinch of rejection.

You let out a breath, forgetting that you were underwater until the air bubbled in your face. Unable to bear the sight of his suffering, you dislodged your kuru. The connection snapped, and you saw a flicker of pure, exhausted relief cross Neteyam’s face before he masked it with his usual warrior stoicism.

He could barely look at you but he never let go of your hand, and shame embraced you like thorn vines. As you two swam back to the surface, the people’s voices boomed in celebration before they began to whistle for their mounts. You didn't call for your skimwing. Instead, as Neteyam climbed onto his, you slipped into the seat behind him.

He turned his head, his eyes wide with a silent question. You didn't give him the fire he expected. You looked at him like a child who was caught breaking something precious. “I’m riding with you,” you murmured, wrapping your arms around his thick, muscular waist and pressing your cheek against his broad back.

Neteyam’s posture softened instantly. “Oh,” he breathed, his lips pulling into a small, private smile.

As he led the procession back, his large, warm hand reached back to cover yours where they were clasped over his abdomen. You stared at the back of his head, your heart aching with a new kind of pain. Shame. He had seen the darkest corners of your soul and his first instinct was still to never let go of your hand. Perhaps he was used to ungratefulness; he had faced it from Lo'ak for years anyway. But you realized then that you didn't want to be another burden. You wanted to be his peace.

Later at the village, the celebration of your mating was a riot of colors and music. The drums were louder now and the dancing more frantic. You and Neteyam were seated on the high dais, the center of every gaze. As tradition dictated, you dipped your fingers into a bowl of rich, spiced fish sauce to feed him.

Some drops of it dripped on your fingers and before you could pull away, Neteyam’s hand caught your wrist, bringing your hand to his mouth, his tongue darting out to lick the sauce from your skin. He never broke eye contact, his eyes dark and molten, reflecting a hunger that had nothing to do with food.

It felt like someone had accidentally made a spark in a forest filled of dry leaves. You felt your breath hitch, your earlier shame melting into a fierce, desperate need. You leaned in, your movements no longer a performance for your audience. You reached up, twirling a finger into one of his braids, anchoring him to you so he couldn't retreat just in case he decides to tease you.

You leaned close, your lips brushing the corner of his mouth as you licked a stray bit of sauce away. “I want you...” you whispered, the words trembling against his skin. “Do you want me?”

He let out a huffed sound, a mix of a laugh and a growl. “I’ve always wanted you,” he rasped, his hand moving to your arm to pull you closer. “Since the day I saw you on the docks. I have wanted nothing else.”

You know that now... You know. You pressed a hard, demanding kiss to his lips, tasting the salt and the spice and the promise of the night to come. “Show me,” you challenged, your voice dropping to a seductive tone as you smirked.

You stood up, your beautiful shawl flowing behind you as flawlessly as your curled hair, all of which are extremely captivating for Neteyam. You pulled his hand up, looking back at him with sultry eyes before dragging him away. You don’t even care about the hooting young men and the laughing crowd knowing just what you two will do next.

You dragged him to the eastern side of the village where your new pod is, smelling of fresh weave. The air between you and Neteyam was thick with a tension that made the drums at the festival sound nothing compared to the thrum of your heartbeat behind your ears. You stood in the center of the room, the embers of the fire in the hanging firepots casting a soft, ethereal glow over his dark blue skin.

You watched him as he began to shed his warrior gear. His hands, usually so steady and precise, moved with a slight tremble as he unbuckled the Omatikaya cummerbund he had recently commissioned. He had refused to replace it with a Metkayina chest guard and honestly, you respected his unwavering loyaty.

You reached for the ties of your own top, practically breathless as you watched his muscles ripple with every movement. You let the ceremonial pearls clatter softly as it fell to the floor. Neteyam’s breath hitched, his eyes focused on you with a hunger that made your skin prickle. You are so excited you’re literally a live wire. You walked toward him, and he met you halfway, his large hands reaching out to claim you.

He leaned down, and when his lips met yours, you felt like both of you melted into each other.

He kissed you like he was trying to memorize the shape of your mouth, his hand firm at your nape, tilting your head to gain better access. He was clumsy at first, and you could tell he doesn’t usually do this... or didn’t do it at all, but you didn't mind. He was so cute, because he was just going by instinct, so you guided him, your tongue dancing with his, showing him what you had learned from years of being the rebellious daughter. When he realized how skillfully you were kissing him, a low, guttural groan vibrated through his chest, a sound of both frustration and desperation.

He lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you to the soft furs on the floor. His kisses descended, tracing the line of your jaw, the hollow of your throat, and lower to your chest. You let out a loud moan when his mouth enveloped your pebbled tip, while his hand fondled the other, rolling and pinching your nipple. You shivered at how good it felt, squeezing his large upper arm as you melt into the furs.

While he was busy literally feasting on you, you managed to bring your trembling hands behind him, your fingers wrapping around his tail and caressing it. “Ow!” your back arched when, in shock, his teeth clamped down around the flesh of your breast.

“Fuck, sorry...” he mumbled, his tongue popping out to lick around the flesh and you mewled, your hand gripping his tail.

Your fingers persevered to untie his loincloth despite the fact that you’re literally bordering on delirious with what he’s doing to you. He helped you shed his loincloth, and the weight of his arousal against your thigh made your own breath hitch. Your hand snaked down, your fingers brushing against the heat of him, and his hips buckled.

In the heat of the moment, you reached for your kuru, the shimmering white fibers seeking his. Neteyam stopped at the sight of it, his eyes looking at yout queue as if it were a predator. He let out a ragged breath and you saw the exact moment he was reminded of what your kuru had brought him. He didn't want the shared pain of your past right now; he didn't want the ghosts of your mother or his guilt to intrude. He wanted you and the reality of this moment.

You understood. You let your kuru fall back, pulling him down for a kiss that tasted of surrender. He ran his fingers through the strands of your soft hair, his hands caging your head as he kisses you, hard and punishing, for what seemed like eternity. You loved kissing him, and it might just be your new addiction.

He kissed his way down your body again, and when he moved between your legs, his mouth finding the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, you arched your back, your fingers tangling in his braids. The first time his tongue flicked against you, a loud, unbridled moan tore from your throat, echoing off the woven walls of the pod. You didn't even care who heard you.

His fingers joined his mouth, determined to watch you come undone with every kiss and suck. You grabbed a handful of his braids, not knowing whether to push him away to relieve you from the bizarre stimulation he’s making you feel, or harder on you to indulge yourself with the feeling.

“Neteyam!” You shouted, pushing his head away, but he won’t budge, his large hands pushing your legs further away.

It was too much, but you find that you wanted it, too. You fisted on the soft furs, moaning louder than you did earlier, your back arching as you felt a knot inside you break and explode. Your foot tried to push him away again when you felt a warm liquid gush out of you, but his mouth only sucked and licked, making sure no drop was wasted.

Your limbs fell on your sides weakly, your eyes a little unfocused until you saw him rise, his large frame covering your view of the hanging firepot. He hovered over you, his golden eyes wide with a mixture of reverence and nerves. He kissed your jaw.

“Was that good?”

You gave a lazy grin, but also, you remembered that he was good. How did that happen? Your features turned a little sharp with awareness, your eyes narrowing. “Who?”

His face previously hazy with lust and desire snapped to attention, “What?”

“You are good. It was good,” you said. “Who’s the woman?”

His forehead creased and a weakened breath of laughter escaped him. “No one,” he said, his lips grazing your cheek. “No one. I do not touch women who are not mine. And I do not let them touch me,” he said, emphasizing the last words.

You pushed your lips forward, catching that stray. “Well...” you pushed your lips forward. “For what it’s worth, I’m a virgin, too, you know? But I know how to kiss. See, it helped us earlier. Your teeth were bumping against mine—”

His forehead fell against yours as he shook with laughter. You groaned.

“I’m telling the truth! No one has touched me where you’d touched me! You don’t believe me?” you said, your voice rising in slight.

He was pressing a kiss against your neck but his head quickly lifted up. “No, no. I do believe you,” he said, his eyes widening a little in his conviction. “I believe you.” he repeated, his eyes softening, lowering down to your parted lips. “And it doesn’t matter, I think. I just need to know names, if so.“

“Names?“ you echoed.

“Names of the men,” he said, his eyes narrowing.

You squeezed his shoulder. “No one,“ you replied. “I mean, beyond the kisses...”

He pressed his lips to yours, his tongue sliding in when you parted your lips, exploring with a tentative curiosity that made your toes curl into the soft mats. As his hands wandered down your body, grazing the curves of your hips before he lifted his head up again, his eyes caressing your features, admiring the intricate tattoos on your face.

“You are so beautiful,” he murmured. He can barely breathe watching you from afar, and now, you were under him. His mate. His wife now. He has all the time in the world. With you.

“Then stop looking and start doing something,” you teased, your voice so womanly it made him shiver.

He chuckled, positioning himself properly between your thighs. His cock felt heavy against your pussy. You’ve felt him earlier, felt the weight of him. He was thick and long, and despite your fear, you were more excited for when he finally enters you.

“Tell me if it hurts,” his deep voice grated.

“I want you inside me,” you whispered, spreading your legs. “Now.”

He bit his lip, fisting his cock and pointing it at your pussy and your fingers balled in anticipation. Its wide head nudged you with a slow, agonizing precision, his wide eyes watching your face. You gasped, your back arching as the initial stretch of his girth filled you. Your breathing was jagged, your hand clamped on his shoulder as you clenched around him unconsciously.

He patted your thigh, wincing. “Baby, you’re squeezing me...”

You groaned and tried to relax as he pushes more length into you. Just when you thought it’d be over soon, you made the mistake of looking down and seeing that he’s only halfway in. “This can’t be serious.” Your head fell back on the soft furs.

“Why?” His hand caressed your hip, and when he moved, seemingly to dislodge himself from you, you tightened your legs around him and pushed your hips up.

In that single move, the remaining length of him disappeared in you, making you quiver as if you’d reached the same high he's given you with his mouth earlier. You are incredibly sensitive.

“Oh, Great Mother,“ you moaned loud, the sound ripping from your throat. “You are so big...”

He kissed your jaw softly. “I’m sorry...” He then began to move in shallow thrusts, his lips peppering your face with kisses. Each slide of his shaft sent jolts of pleasure through your core, and as the friction built, loud sounds begun to escape your throat. Moaning and wailing in pleasure. You weren't shy. You had never been shy.

“Yes! Ah, right there! Oh, Neteyam, so good!” you screamed, your voice carrying to whoever knows where.

Neteyam’s face slightly crumpled, a little embarrassed, but a grin tugged at his lips as he picked up the pace, his thrusts becoming steadier, deeper. You didn't hold back. Every time he thrusts hard, you let out a loud, unabashed shriek of pleasure.

“Neteyam—” you gasped, your voice breaking as he drove into you. “Great Mother. Neteyam... please.” You pressed a palm on his lower abdomen as he continuously hammered into you.

He didn’t slow down. If anything, your pleasured screams only fueled the predatory fire in his eyes. He leaned down, his large hands caging your head in place. His mouth muffled your sobs as be kissed you, and your eyes rolled back to your head, feeling delirious about everything.

“What does my princess want?” he rasped against your lips, his voice thick and dark.

“I don’t know...” you sobbed. “So good...”

He kissed you again before he rose to a kneeling position between your parted thighs, grabbing one of your legs and hiking it up his shoulder, before slamming into you with a series of forceful thrusts that made your screams sound jagged. Scandalous wet sounds filled the air as he hammered into you. You were a mess of sweat and saliva, your breasts bouncing with every thrust.

You were so loud, and so lost in your pleasure, that you didn’t even notice the pause in the rhythmic pulsing of festival drums in the distance. It was only when Neteyam slowed down that you noticed, you looked at him through a hazy vision and saw his head tilting to the direction of the village’s communal area. His eyes snapped at you and you chuckled, still panting.

“I think they heard you,“ he said, lowering his body to kiss you.

“It will serve the clan to know that the newly mated woman is being mounted... hard,” your teeth tugged at his lower lip. “Happy wife, happy life, you know?”

He groaned, his eyes closing for a moment before it opened again to meet yours. The joy in them made you feel like someone offered you a blanket during a storm. “I will make you happy... Always.”

You smiled. “I will make you happy, too, Neteyam... I promise.”

A smile broke through his facade and it made tears prick in your eyes for some reason. “You being mine is enough. I need only to remember that to be happy,” he said.

“I am yours,“ you replied quickly. “In all the ways you could think of.”

He kissed you, losing himself in the heat of you. He pushed deeper, the sound of your bodies meeting creating a wet, squelching noise. You clung to his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as he hit a spot that made your vision blur. With a deep push, he shuddered, his cock pulsing inside you as he spilled his seed. You followed him seconds later, your internal muscles clamping tight around him in a series of violent spasms.

He hugged you, as though you’d slip away if he didn’t. Your hand moved up to caress his braids, kissing his jaw. “I am here with you, Neteyam...“

The next day, you woke up to the sight of morning sun filtering through the woven walls and beaded curtains of your marui, casting a warm light over everything. You didn’t need the weight of the heavy arm draped over your waist to remind you where you are. Neteyam had been awake for an hour. He had spent the time simply watching the way your chest rose and fell, noticing how the bioluminescent freckles on your skin seemed to dim in the daylight, and memorizing the intricate tattoos on your face. He’d admired the blooming purples and reds of the marks he’d left behind on your neck and chest, and wondered if you’d complain about it later.

When your teal eyes finally fluttered open, the instant flash of joy in them made his own heart skip. Without a word, you rolled over witha lazy grin spreading across your face as you draped an arm over his chest to pull him to you for a lingering morning kiss. It felt so natural, if only his heart won’t stop kicking violently against his chest. It was as if you had been waking up in his arms for years instead of just one night.

“Hungry?“ he murmured, his voice still gravelly with sleep.

“Yes,” you yawned and stretched your body a little, your face snuggling in the crook of his neck. Your throat felt raw and your voice came out hoarse, evidence of your screaming last night.

You bit your lip, closing your eyes at how comfortable it felt. He chuckled, his eyes sparkling even if you were not looking. You are a mated woman now... The memory of the night rushed back in your mind in a heated wace. The way he had looked at you like a predator let out of its cage. The way he had held you so devoid of the politeness he’d shown in the past years... The way he mounted you.

Oh, Great Mother. You felt so giddy, you couldn’t help but shiver in his arms.

“Why?” he asked.

“I was just remembering last night,” you said shamelessly.

He softly kissed your foreahead. “Why shiver? Are you getting shy?“ he asked softly.

Your eyes widened. “No,” you lifted yourself up, the soft fabric of the blanket falling off your shoulder and revealing your naked form to him. “What should I be shy about?”

He looked at you with hazy eyes, as if you’d used some booze on him and his eyes were just pupils blown wide now as they caressed your form. “For one, you were so loud last night...”

You raised a brow. “Eh. I’m not abashed... It’s normal to be loud when you’re feeling good,“ you smirked.

Besides, does he know just how many girls and women in this clan wished they’d give them attention? Your eyes narrowed, thinking of all those village women who used to sigh when he walks past. You hoped they’d heard just how good you were getting it from him last night.

“Are you bothered?”

“No,” he said, his voice dropping into that deep, possessive register.

You smirked, grabbing your top to wear it again. He sat up, his muscles flexing from all his movements. His large hands hovered over your shoulder, surprisingly gentle as he helped you tie the fastenings and adjust the pearls over your chest. As the blanket slipped away from his lap, your eyes caught the sight of him. Already hard and erected.

Without thinking, your hand darted down to touch it, but he was faster, catching your wrist. “No. Breakfast first.”

Your nose crunched in a pout. “I just want to touch it. It looks... lonely.”

“Maybe later...” he said, his voice strained as he reached for your loincloth to help you dress.

“But it's hard now,” you pouted, looking at him through your lashes.

Neteyam let out a long, shaky breath, looking away. “It will pass. It’s always like that,” he said.

“Always like that?“ you asked.

“When you’re around,” he admitted, his jaw tight.

Your eyes widened, a triumphant smile tugging at your lips. “Really? Even when I was being mean to you?”

“Yes. Sometimes, even when you weren't around... I’d think of you,” he confessed, his ears twitching in a rare show of vulnerability.

“What? But wouldn't that be painful?” you asked, glancing at his crotch, which he has now hidden beneath the fabric.

“I relieve myself,” he said bluntly, watching you tilt your head in confusion. He then made a quick up-and-down motion with his hand, his eyes locking onto yours. “And I think of you while I do it.”

You felt a surge of heat so intense you thought you might actually turn purple. The idea of the perfect and dutiful firstborn son of Toruk Makto, alone where no one could see him, losing his mind over thoughts of you, was the most intoxicating thing you'd ever heard. “What do you think of? Tell me. I think we can... make it happen now.”

Neteyam leaned in, his shadow towering over you as he whispered in your ear, his voice a dark, detailed rasp. He described a vision of you arched over a forest branch, the way he wanted to feel your hair against his skin while he took you from behind, and the way he imagined your face would look when you’re feeling good. He’s seen it last night, and it beat all the fantasies he had.

By the time he finished, you were breathless and burning.

“We are definitely doing that tonight,” you whispered, leaning toward him to kiss the side of his lips.

Days later after you were more properly settled in your pod, Jake and Neytiri hosted a dinner, inviting your father and your siblings. Now, you knew you were never shy... But also, these are Neteyam’s parents. And they’ve been witnesses to how volatile and difficult to deal with you could be compared to your siblings.

You were never welcoming. You were aloof. And now, you are mated to their most prized son. Because of this, the thought of sitting in the same table as Neytiri filled your blood with cold dread. You sat with your spine perfectly straight at the dinner table, your hands folded neatly in your lap, a sharp contrast to the wild, snarling huntress they usually saw on the docks.

Next to you, Neteyam looked like the picture of the perfect warrior, but there was a glint in his eye that made you uneasy. He knew exactly why you were acting so stiff.

“You look beautiful tonight, daughter,” Neytiri said, her golden eyes scanning you with a terrifyingly intensity.

“Thank you, Neytiri,” you replied, your voice soft. “It is an honor to be at your table.”

Neteyam let out a short, soft huff that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. He leaned closer to you, ostensibly to reach for a bowl of fruit, but his shoulder lingered against yours.

“She is very practiced at the proper daughter look,” Neteyam murmured for only you to hear. He turned his head to look at you, a smirk playing on his lips as you glared at him.

Tonowari finally cleared his throat, shifting his gaze between you and Neteyam, his expression a mix of fatherly concern and the stiff formality of an Olo’eyktan. “Ah... so,” your father started, his voice a bit forced. “How have you two been?”

You nodded. “We’re having so much fun,” you blurted out without thinking.

Oh, that they know about. It’s not like the marks on your neck or the red nail marks on Neteyam’s shoulders weren’t announcement enough. Neteyam who was sipping water nearly choked. A violent cough erupted from him as he tried to regain his composure, his ears blooming indigo, twitching.

“Do you have everything you need for the household? Nets? Storage?” Jake Sully intervened.

“We have everything we need, Dad,” Neteyam managed to rasp out, finally finding his voice.

You leaned closer to whisper. “Right. My husband is a very... efficient provider. He doesn't leave anything unfinished, does he?” You snickered.

He raised a brow. “Whispering now, huh? It’s hard to believe this is the same woman who was screaming my name so loud in the woods just hours ago,” he whispered back.

Neytiri watched the two of you from across the table, her golden eyes shining. “It is great to see the two of you approaching your marriage life so smoothly,” Neytiri said, her voice smooth. She looked at Jake. “Reminds me of our first nights together. Do you remember, Jake?”

Jake chuckled. He knew exactly what Neytiri meant. He rubbed the back of his neck, glancing at Tonowari who looked like he wanted to dive into the ocean to avoid this conversation.

“Can we talk about literally anything else?” Lo’ak groaned, picking up a piece of fruit and tossing it at Neteyam. “I don't need to hear about my parents’ first nights together or why Y/N’s throat sounds like she’s wounded her throat from screaming.”

“Lo’ak!” Tsireya hissed, though she was shaking with silent laughter.

“What?” Tuk asked, her large eyes moving between everyone. “Why was she screaming? Was there a moonwraith in the new pod? I can go kill it for you, sister!”

The table erupted. Ao’nung, who had been trying to remain stoic and dignified, finally doubled over with a booming laugh. Your father let out a heavy, defeated sigh, rubbing his temples, while Jake just shook his head, a grin finally breaking through his facade.

“No moonwraiths, Tuk,” Neteyam whispered to his little sister while you laughed beside him.

                                                         ₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

In the weeks following your mating, the village began to feel less like a place of grief you moved through with a routine, and more like a playground for the two of you. You found yourself exploring the woods behind the village with much curiosity than you did before, keeping in mind that this was the kind of place your husband grew up in.

You’ve always wondered the way he moved with such a predatory yet quiet grace, able to sneak up on people without making any sound, unless he meant for them to hear him, but as you walk through the forest, you realized that it was because the trees seemed to have eyes everywhere. You couldn’t even walk here without your foot stepping on a dry leaf that makes a crunchy crack, announcing your presence.

Neteyam had told you that it was one of their trainings back in the forest. To walk in the woods silent as a viperwolf, and you’ve seen in it in the way he moves through the brush. “Your people believes in the tranquility of the ocean,“ he mumbled, standing behind you as he helped you adjust your grip on his longbow. “But the forest, it is a living thing. It listens and it watches. There is no current to fight, you only move with it.”

He pressed his chest against your back, his large hands covering yours on the bowstring. He taught you how to breathe into the shot, his heartbeat a steady thrum against your shoulder blades. When you finally released, the arrow thudding perfectly into a distant fruit, your eyes widened and you smiled triumphantly.

You had obsessed over archery for weeks. It is different from your people’s crossbow, which you were really good at. Different compared to a spear, more so. You thought you were simply a bad shot at this thing, but now, you hit the target and you couldn’t believe it! You turned in his arms with a laugh, rewarded by the pride shining in his golden eyes. He leaned forward to kiss you hard, and you melted in his arms.

“That one was good,” he grinned.

You pursed your lips. “Now, I understand why Lo’ak always calls you the perfect son...” you pressed a hand against his chest. “You excel in everything. This was easy for you, a crossbow is easy. A spear is easy. Riding your ikran is easy. Riding a skimwing is easy...” you tiptoed to kiss his lips. “Riding me... so hard, though.” You snickered.

He laughed, a rich and deep sound that warmed your chest as his arm suddenly pulled you to him. “You said you were sore...”

You bit your lip, widening your eyes at him. “I am.”

“Then why are you tempting me?” he asked, raising a brow.

You laughed. “Maybe I want more of that thing where I’m lying on my stomach, and you’re so close on my back,” you moaned in his ears. “That was so good.”

He groaned, deep and long, pulling you to him. “Strip. Let’s do it now, if you want it—”

“Neteyam and Y/N! Yuhoo!” A familiar, high-pitched voice cut through the trees.

You jumped away from him, nearly toppling over. Neteyam’s strong arm wrapped around you like a vine, helping you find your footing as Tuk came crashing through the brush, her large eyes bright with excitement.

“Oh, great! There you two are,“ she heaved, skidding to a halt. She paused, looking at the two of you, you with your hair a mess and Neteyam looking like he was ready to wrestle a palulukan. “Why are you purple again, sister? The forest isn’t hot. In fact, it’s so cold here.” She twirled around.

You chuckled. “Oh, well... I was purple from laughing,“ you chirped, smoothing down your hair.

Neteyam cleared his throat, his ears still twitching violently. “Yes, she was laughing so hard.”

Tuk narrowed her eyes, looking between the two of you. “You guys are weird,” she concluded.

“Wait, why are you here, Tuk?” Neteyam asked.

She pouted. “Lo’ak sent me. He has a question for you, he needs you to go see him,” she said. “Hurry up, you two!” You watched her disappear, then turned to Neteyam who was already shaking his head.

“I'm going to kill Lo'ak,“ Neteyam muttered, though he was already smiling as he followed you. “I'm definitely going to kill him.”

But the peace was never a stagnant thing.

It started with the scouts. Warriors returning, speaking of a metal village rising from the waves near the territory of the neighboring clan. They’ve luckily intercepted a group of hunters from that clan who were sent to deliver a message to Toruk Makto about the sky people’s activities. Jake personally went there with Tonowari, Neteyam, Ao’nung, and Lo’ak to see it for themselves.

When he came back, he told the council about the massive, artificial island of steel that is turning the crystal-clear waters into a murky, toxic sludge. The news grew grimmer by the hour: the neighboring clans had tried to resist, but the demons had met them with violence, leaving the waters beyond the reef littered with the bodies of those who dared to protect their home.

Inside the council marui, the air was suffocating. Tonowari sat with his head bowed, his hands fisted so hard his knuckles were white. Beside him, Jake Sully paced, his jaw set in a grim line that you recognized from Neteyam’s own face during charged encounters.

“They are expanding,” Jake rasped. “If they finish that platform, they’ll have a permanent base for their tulkun hunts. The neighbors are already dying.”

Your arm around Neteyam’s waist tightened and he gripped your arm. “Neteyam...” you murmured, an uncharacteristic fear coiling in your gut.

He pulled you close, his cheek nuzzled in your temple. “It’ll be alright.”

The tension snapped two days later.

A hunting party returned... Not with a haul of fish, but the broken bodies of two warriors. The wails of their mothers reminded you of your own grief but you stayed and prayed over them with Tsireya and the elder healers, carrying their grief for them. Days later, patrolling hunters came back with news that made you rush to the sea, riding your skimwing in a rush, with Neteyam hurriedly following behind you.

You fell over at the sight of your mother’s spirit sister, Ro’a, drifting aimlessly in the waters, her flank torn open by a massive harpoon. She didn't survive the night. You swam to her, hugging her body tightly as you hugged your mother years before. Tsireya cried silently beside you, her face anguished, a contrast to your angered features.

Ro’a was the last piece you have of you mother... And to see her brutally murdered seemed to have brought a shift, even to your father. His face contorted in a grief so sharp it looked like a physical wound and you couldn’t help embrace his unmoving body.

“Send word to our neighbors! We will not wait for the metal to reach our shores.”

As the village fell into a frenzy of preparation for days, you dove into the waters before the sun even rose to get a potent herb. It was poison, you would no longer mince your words. You want no one alive. When you broke the surface bringing a handful of it, you saw Neteyam standing on the shore and you felt a jolt of surprise.

You made sure to not take too long. You have not been gone for more than ten minutes!

“Where were you?” he asked, his hands immediately touching your upper arms to pull you into a hug, uncaring that you're wet and cold.

“I wasn’t gone long,“ you said.

“I woke up with you gone, you don’t know how much that is a stuff for nightmares for me,” he replied, hugging you tighter. “I saw your weapons though. I knew you wouldn’t go anywhere crazy without them. But now, after seeing that you were indeed in the waters, I didn’t like the idea of it. They could be anywhere, baby...”

You sighed. “I just... foraged something.” You lifted the herbs and saw the confusion in his eyes. “It’s poison.” you whispered darkly.

His eyes widened a little.

You tilted your head. “It’s to ensure maximum damage... If the blades don’t kill them, this will do the job.”

His eyes darkened with every word your spoke. He didn’t even flinch and recoil, nor lecture you on the code of a warrior or the sanctity of a clean kill. Instead, he reached out, his thumb grazing your jaw.

“Make it strong,” he whispered, his voice vibrating with a dark resonance that made the fine hairs on your neck stand up. He took the herbs from your hand, his fingers lingering against yours, grounding you even as the storm raged in your chest. “Come. The hunters are gathering at the weapon racks. Your father is calling for the final blessing.”

You followed Neteyam to the central deck, where Tonowari stood like a pillar, his spear held high among the warriors whose own spears they had sharpened for days.

“You are not going,“ Tonowari quietly said when he was done talking to his warriors, his eyes landing on the lethal kit you were preparing.

“Father, I cannot not go. I need to be there. They killed my mother, they killed her sister. My home is being choked by their filth. You tell me to stay, Father, and you might as well tell the tide to stop rising.”

Tsireya stepped up beside you, her jaw set in a way that mimicked your own. You had a hunch he’d told her the same thing. Your father looked at the two of you, both fierce images of the woman who was and is his strength.

Your father let out a long, shuddering breath, the weight of the world bowing his shoulders for a fleeting second before he hardened again. “Fine, but be... careful. I cannot lose any of you.”

You choked a sob and hugged him. You are scared, but you also cannot imagine yourself not fighting out there while eveyone risks their lives.

Inside your marui, the weight of the impending battle had shrunk to just the two of you. The morning sun flickering against the woven walls as you sat between Neteyam’s legs, your fingers dipped in the thick pigment of his war paint.

He was silent, his broad chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm that grounded your frantic heart. You traced the line of his nose dowm to his chin with the paint, your touch lingering longer than necessary.

“You're shaking,“ he murmured, his large hand coming up to steady your wrist. He leaned into your touch, his golden eyes searching yours.

“I am not,” you lied, your voice a mere breath. You dipped your fingers back into the bowl, drawing a sharp, jagged line across his cheekbone. “I am just... impatient.”

Neteyam caught your hand, pressing a firm kiss to your palm, his gaze intense. “Look at me. I will be in the sky with my mother. I will see everything. If you are in trouble, I will find you. Do you hear me? I will always find you.”

You stared at him and nodded. “Neteyam... When we did the tsaheylu... I know you’ve seen my ugly heart—”

“Do not speak of it that way!” he cut you off.

“Alright, my ugly emotions. Dark and bloody, full of hatred,” you said.

He tilted his head. “I also saw me. You liked me when I first got here,” he said, smiling. “You find me so handsome.”

You groaned. “I’ve always thought so...” you pushed your lips forward. “I was just in-denial for such a long time.”

“It’s all that matters to me that night, you know? To know that I have at least stirred your heart. I was thinking, I can definitely build on that. I will make you love me as I love you. I will make you so happy as you make extremely happy,“ he said, angling his head to kiss you.

Your face crunched as you felt a pinch in your heart. “You need higher standards,“ you said in a trembling voice. “I was so rude. All the time. I was mean and I didn’t think of your feelings—”

He hushed you, wrapping an arm around you, some of his face paint transferring on your face. “I understand. I understand all of it,” he said in a quiet, devoted voice.

You know that. You’ve seen it in his heart, but still, you couldn't help but weep. “But I can’t understand, ‘Teyam, why I had treated you so badly when you didn’t deserve any of my anger. I don’t want you to forgive me. I don’t even deserve this love you have for me. I cannot understand it,” your tears fell.

Everything seemed to have came up on you and it all culminated to this. “You do not need to understand it. I love you. I love you very much,“ he said, his large hands cupping your jaw so he could look in your eyes. “And my forgiveness is mine to give, only that there is nothing to forgive. Do you understand? I love you, and I love you in any form you show me. You cannot dictate my heart.”

He smiled at you and you cried even harder. You don’t know why you couldn’t stop crying. There is a golden ball of warmth threatening to burst inside your heart and you couldn’t hold it back. You pressed your forehead against his, uncaring that his paint will transfer to you.

“I love you, Neteyam. I love you so much...” you mumbled, kissing him even though you wanted to see more of the surprise on his face. You squeezed his bicep, your heart aching with the force of your love for him.

When you two stopped kissing to breathe, you saw his eyes sparkling with tears, his strong arms maneuvered you so that he’d cradle your upper body like a baby and you laughed.

“I can’t believe how freeing that feels. I love you, Neteyam. I love you, I love you, I love you,“ you said, obsessed with how good it feels to say that.

He lowered his head and kissed you. “I love you so much. More. I love you more, I love you more, I love you more,“ he said, pressing a kiss to your lips nearly with every word.

“We’ll talk again tonight,” you mumbed, caressing his jaw. “And then we’ll do more. I’ll let you do anything you want with me, so make sure you’ll be careful up there—”

“Hey, love birds—”

“Lo’ak!” Neteyam growled so deeply you felt his body vibrated with it, making you throw your head back with laughter.

Later, with all the warriors assembled, the war cries of your people echoed across the wave as the shadow of Toruk’s wings covered almost the entire village as he flew past, leading the vanguard. You saw Neteyam’s ikran along with Neytiri’s follow the beast like predatory birds. With a sharp whistle, you urged your mount into a high-speed plane, riding among the warriors of your clan, holding your spear tightly as war crimes erupted in your throat as your fleet reached the destination.

You saw a scout vessel banking hard, its mounted gunner spraying the water with bullets to aim at your fleet. Your father signalled to disperse and you dove into the water the same time everyone did, swimming on the other side, where you know you can find a weakness. As the vessel’s hull loomed, you broke the water and made your skimwing leap in the air, shooting with your crossbow with a strained scream.

It punched through the reinforced glass of the cockpit and you saw the pilot slumped instantly, before you landed back on the water. The vessel veered wildly, crashing into a large rock and erupting into an orange flame. You smiled, diving deep into the cool pressure of the water. Beneath the surface, your eyes fixed on the mechanical silhouettes of the submersibles moving in the depths, hunting your brothers and sisters.

You propelled your mount toward a sub’s rear rotor and with a practiced strike, you jammed your spear into it, rendering it to a stop, before you strike to puncture the glass. You left it after ensuring that the pressure of the deep would do the rest for the pilot. You did that to more submersibles, and was pursued by some, too, using what you’ve learned from all the times you played underwater.

Breaking the surface for air, the sight that welcomed you was filled of fire and ash. Your gaze instinctively snapped upward, and your heart jumped at your throat when you saw a missile pursuing Neteyam, who dove his ikran into a vertical corkscrew, the missile desperately following him. At the last second, he banked hard, luring the missile directly into the path of a pursuing fighter jet. The jet erupted in a beautiful display of orange and skittered to another jet, bringing it down as well.

A huge smile broke on your face as Neteyam leveled out, hearing his war cry echoing to reach you. The artificial island seemed to have tilted to the side, its steel skeleton groaning as if people were working to dismantle it from below, as it burned from above. It was reduced to a vision of dancing fire.

By the time the sun began to dip toward the horizon, the metal village was nothing but a graveyard of sinking iron. The ocean, though scarred, had claimed its prize. The journey back was silent as you rode beside your father, whose face was a mask of grim satisfaction. As the familiar woven walkways of the village came into view, the village erupted in cheers for the returning warriors, you looked to the sky.

You saw Neteyam’s ikran flying toward the forest, making you vault off your ikran to go there and meet him. The bioluminescence of the forest was just beginning to wake but you paid it no attention, focused only on Neteyam’s majestic form as he descended his beast. You ate up the steps between you and threw yourself at him, your arms locking around his neck with a force that nearly sent both of you back into the brush.

He caught you, his large hands anchoring you against his chest as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in the scent of salt from the ocean before peppering kisses along your jaw and neck, his grip tightening until you were molded against him.

“You okay? Wounded anywhere?” he asked breathlessly, his large hand touching you everywhere.

“I saw you,“ you rasped, ignoring his questions. “In the air. You are so hot,” you pressed a kissed to his lips. “You? Are you wounded anywhere?”

You checked his arms as his face melted into your neck, he shook his head but you still made sure by checking thoroughly. “I wished I saw you in the waters, baby...” he whispered. “But I know you were a nightmare for them.”

You pulled back just enough to see his face, grinning through the smearing war paint. “I know we haven’t weeded out all of them yet... But I’m glad they are gone for now,” you sighed, looking back at the village when you heard the drums. “They are starting the celebrations.”

You were about to turn around and go back, but Neteyam’s grip on your waist tightened, his thumb tracing the curve of your hip with a deliberate, slow pressure that made your breath hitch. “You seemed to have forgotten something...” he mumured, his voice dropping into that low, gravelly register that always made your heart skip.

Your brows furrowed. “What?”

His golden eyes burned on you with a focused intensity that made the surrounding forest feel like it was fading away. “Your promise.”

You blinked. What promise— Oh! “Oh... Right,” you cleared your throat. “We’ll talk, yes...”

His head tilted, raising a brow. “That all?”

You bit your lip and laughed. “Alright, I give up. I remember! I’ll... We’ll... do it,” you mumbled, your cheeks burning as if this was the first time when you’d literally fucked each other every day in the past moons.

“And?” he probed.

You huffed. “And you can do what you want with me.”

He smiled, squeezing your waist. “Right.” he nodded once, leaning forward to kiss you.

“Let’s not attend the celebration... There’s somewhere I want to go,” you said, holding his hand and dragging him back to the village. “Call for your mount.”

Tonight, you’re planning to renew your mating. The night of your mating never left your mind. The tension, the ugliness of you unresolved anger, and the way he had taken the weight of your hate during the tsaheylu. You wanted to give him back the love he deserved, pure and unmarred.

He called for his skimwing and you both rode it to the cove. He looked at you when you held his hand, slipping off the skimwing and into the water. “Come,” you told him softly. He slipped off the skimwing and wrapped his arms aroujd you. You smiled and kissed him. “I want to do it again, my love. I want you to see me now. Just me.”

His gaze caressed your face lovingly and you felt your heart burst with warming emotions. “I love you so much,” he mumbled. “I love you.”

You smiled, your eyes twinkling. “I love you more, Neteyam.”

You kissed the side of his mouth before you dove into the water, with him following you until you both reached the spirit tree. You reached for your kuru behind you, bringing it between you. You’re now the one waiting with quiet yet desperate patience, but he didn't make you wait long, he brought his kuru to yours in an instant. As your neural braids connected, the world shifted.

This time, there was no wall of resentment for him to climb. Instead, Neteyam was flooded with the sheer, overwhelming force of your love. He felt the way your heart skipped when he walked into a room, the heat of your attraction, and the deep loyalty you held for him. On your end, you felt how his love grew even fiercer, a golden sun that warmed every corner of your being. But then, the connection pulsed with something else... His anticipation for later.

You think he didn't mean to, but his desires began to leak through the bond, messing with your senses. Without him even moving a finger, you felt the ghost of his hands on your waist, the phantom pressure of his length moving inside you in hard, forceful movements, and the feel of his kisses on your body. You shivered in the water, your eyes blowing wide.

He smirked, watching you with a predatory, adoring look. Your eyes narrowed, signing to him, gesturing to the spirit tree. “I want us to meet my mother first. I want to show her my mate.” you signed.

He looked at you, nodding and gently breaking the connection so you could both connect to the spirit tree. You held his hand and closed your eyes, immediately finding yourself back in the village, seeing your mother’s form standing on the dock. She looked as she always did. Fierce, eternal, and serene. She held no memory of your teenage rage or the years you spent mourning her. To her, you were simply the lovely daughter who got so much from her.

She turned as if she sensed you, her smile brightening, but it faltered into genuine shock when she saw the man standing beside you. “Neteyam?” she asked, her eyes moving to your entwined hands.

“Mother,” you greeted softly.

Neteyam touched his forehead. “Oel ngati kameie, Tsahik.”

“Daughter...” she tilted her head in question, a soft smile touching her lips.

“He is my mate, Mother...” you said, squeezing her hand.

Ronal chuckled, looking between the two of you. “And you agreed, young man?”

Neteyam glanced at you, smiling. “It is a gift to have her in my life, Tsahik. I have loved her since I was young.”

You turned to Neteyam, smiling, when you heard the crack in his voice. Ronal sighed dreamily, a knowing look crossing her face. “Oh, that I know. I’ve seen it.”

“Seen what, mother?” you asked, surprised.

Ronal stared at you, at how unknowing you are. Even then, she knew it would be a problem between you two. She’s always observed how Neteyam always had his eyes on you, how he seemed so aware of you and your presence. She initially thought it was simply a boy being curious, but she didn’t know how she’d known.

You two stayed with your mother for what seemed like hours. But in reality, it lasted only or even less than five minutes. You disconnected from the tree, squeezing Neteyam’s hand and blowing hair out of your nose. He wrapped an arm around you, and swam back to the surface. The water broke with a sudden, violent splash as you both surfaced, gasping. Neteyam gripped your waist, his fingers digging into your skin as he swam to a nearby flattened ground. He hauled you up on it, heightening the frantic beat of your heart.

He hauled himself up, and you moved back, giving him space but he grabbed your ankle, stopping you. The cold air gave you chills but it was immediately replaced by the heat of his body fitting itself between your legs, and pressing against you. You pressed a palm against his chest when he lowered his head to kiss you, you parted your lips to welcome it, feeling his tongue expertly plunge into your mouth.

His hand found your breast and squeezed, deepening his kiss and wrapping a muscled arm around you. By the time he left your lips, you were gasping for air. His gaze caressed your features, “Did you feel it through the bond?” he rasped, his voice a jagged edge of desire.

“I felt everything,” you breathed, your hands sliding up his chest to grip the back of his neck. “I felt how much you want me.”

He let out a low, predatory growl, his golden eyes darkening. He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear, his breath hot. “You made a promise, baby. You told me I could do whatever I want with you.”

“I did,” you whimpered, arching your back as the hand squeezing your breast slide down to the junction of your thighs.

“I intend to hold you to every word.”

He didn't waste another second. His fingers tore at the simple wraps of your top and loincloths, quickly ridding you of them. He stripped himself with a frantic urgency, his heavy, cock springing free, already glistening with a thick bead of pre-cum just from kissing you and feeling you up. He looked massive, a vein pulsing along the length of his shaft, the head swollen and dark.

“I need to be inside you,” he growled, kissing you hard.

He gripped one of your thighs, hoisting it high and draping it over his broad shoulders while he fold the other to spread you wider. He didn't ease in like he usually does, instead, he aligned the broad head of his cock and lunged forward in one powerful, unrestrained thrust.

You let out a sharp, strangled scream that echoed through the cove, your head falling back against the mossy ground. He filled you completely, stretching your walls to their absolute limit. The sensation was an explosion of pressure and heat, a blunt force that seemed to reach your very core.

“Baby, you're so tight,” he groaned, his voice vibrating through your chest. “So wet for me.”

Your hand hold onto his biceps, squeezing as you clenched around his girth. “Neteyam...”

He kissed you hard, murmuring praises. “You feel so good, baby... So warm and tight. Is it good?”

You nodded, kissing him. He began to move, and the pace was immediately punishing. There was no tenderness here, only the raw, starving need of a man who spent the entire day fried by adrenaline on the battlefield, holding onto the promise you’ve given him. Every thrust produced a loud, wet sound, your juices being churned into a frothy lather. The sound was so scandalous and yet it seemed to arouse him even more.

“Oh, babe,” you choked out, your fingers clawing at his shoulders, leaving red marks in his skin. “Neteyam, please, more...”

He licked the side of your neck, slamming his hips forward again. The force of the impact sent a jolt of electricity through your spine. He began to hammer into you, his cock sliding in and out with a violent friction, every glide of his pelvis against you making your clit scream with pleasure, a delicious ache that made your toes curl. Your pussy gripped him with desperate spasms, milking him as he drove himself deeper and deeper.

His head lowered to kiss your breast, his warm mouth catching a pebbled tip and sucking hard. Your back arched as you moaned in pleasure, not knowing what to focus on. His mouth sucking on your breast, or his cock forcefully sliding in and out of you. You’ve been mated for moons, and Neteyam still doesn’t know what to with everything you’re offering, and yet he always seems to be so extremely thorough.

He’s wanted this for years... And to think that you are his now is driving him mad.

He shifted his weight, his hands sliding under your ass to lift you higher, changing the angle so he could bury himself even further, that you could see him bulging in your lower abdomen. You felt your orgasm building, making you tremble in his arms.

“I’m close,” you wailed, your voice breaking. “Neteyam, I'm—”

“Not yet,” he grunted, abruptly stopping.

You whined, weakly kicking your foot but he had lowered your hips down on the ground, pulling out of you. “Neteyam...” you whined, your face reflecting yoir agitation despite the pleasure in it.

You missed him inside you, but the absence didn’t last long, he grabbed your hips and flipped you over with a sudden, authoritative motion. You landed on your stomach, your face pressed into the soft moss. Your upper body rose by instinct, by Neteyam dropped his weight onto your back, caging you in his massive arms. He pinned your wrists beside your head, his chest crushing your shoulder blades. He positioned himself behind you, the tip of his cock probing at your wet entrance, teasing the opening before he surged forward.

He entered you from behind with a guttural roar, the angle allowing him to penetrate deeper than before. You moaned, your mouth perpetually gaped to make sounds of pleasure as he fold one of your legs, his large hand seeking your clit from under the two of you. You gasped and jolted, moving away from his hand but his hand chased you, caressing your sensitive nub as he teasingly moved inside you.

“Look at you,” he whispered, his voice a low rumble in your ear. “Pinned under me. Just where you belong.”

He licked your jaw, angling his head so he could kiss you as his thrusts began to gain pace, a relentless, driving rhythm. Each thrust was a heavy blow, pushing your breasts into the moss. The wet sound was louder now, a messy noise of friction and fluid. You could feel the heat of him, the way his cock stretched and molded into you, claiming every inch of you.

“You're mine,” he gasped, his grip on your wrists tightening.

You nodded. “Yes, yes, yes. I am. I’m yours, Neteyam...”

The admission seemed to break the last of his restraint. Neteyam's movements became frenzied, his hips hammering into you. The friction was intense, the heat bordering on pain, but it was the only thing that mattered. You felt the walls of your pussy clenching around him, triggering his own release.

He let out a long, shaking moan, his body stiffening. He drove himself in one last time, burying his cock as deep as it could possibly go, and stayed there. You felt the hot, thick jet of his seed erupting inside you, pulse after pulse of scorching liquid filling you.

At the same moment, your own climax ripped through you, a violent shudder that left you sobbing. You felt the warmth of his cum leaking out around the sides of his shaft, mixing with your own fluids to create a slippery mess between your thighs. Neteyam collapsed on top of you, his heavy breathing making you shiver as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his skin slick with sweat.

“Fuck,” he cursed under his jagged breaths. He’s practically seeing stars but he was already maneuvering your body to face him, slowly pulling out of you so he could roll you on your back.

You mewled at his absence, spreading your legs again once you're lying on your back. He licked his lips wet as he watched you spread your legs, knowing what you want. His cock pressed against the slick and swollen lips of your pussy, and then he eased himself in, feeling every involuntary clenches your pussy is making around his girth. He lowered his head down to kiss you.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice returning to that soft, adoring tone as he caressed your slick inner thigh. “Did I hurt you?” he asked, his hand moving up to softly caressed your breast, his thumb rubbing its tender tip.

You shook your head, smiling lazily, your eyes still hazy from your mind-blowing climax. “No,” you said firmly. “I loved everything you did to me. I love you, Neteyam...” you cupped his jaw, kissing him hard.

“Sure?“ he asked, his hips unconsciously moving between your legs and burying himself deeper in you.

“I’m very sure,” you grinned. “But how was it? Did you feel good?“ your palm caressed his sweaty chest.

“Good? Baby, I was seeing stars,” he chuckled, his gaze caressing yoir features for a long time, before he pressed his forehead against yours. “I love you so much it hurts."

You are painfully aware of that but you don’t know where to start. You have friends, yes, but they are not friends you hang out with outside of the weaving looms. You are almost always alone, and while other girls had found their places among the hunters, practicing their war cries or vying for the attention of the said men, you found yourself hidden in the looms to enjoy the repetitive routine of weaving.

It’s not like you were the best weaver, too. You are not the best, not the worst either, just a girl whose hands were often stained with berry dyes and whose eyes were usually cast downward. It was safer that way. When you didn't look up, you didn't have to see the way the world seemed to orbit around people who weren't you.

A few feet away, leaning against a sturdy root, Neteyam sat silently. An elder weaver was currently binding a new leather guard to his forearm, and while he appeared to be focused on it, his ears were swiveled toward the elders' conversation.

He watched you.

Neteyam knew everyone in the clan. It was his duty as the future Olo'eyktan, but as he looked at you now, he realized he has never even heard you speak. He knew your name, he knew your family, but he couldn't recall the sound of your voice until that very moment. Your shy, quiet laughter brought a warm feeling to his chest for some reason, making him take a deep breath.

His mind drifted to Ka’ani. She was the finest huntress among their peers, just like him. And he’s always thought of a partnership much like the one his parents have. His father is a great warrior and so is his mother. To be a great leader is to stand beside a fearsome woman as well... And he thinks it’s Ka’ani.

But right now, she was becoming a challenge. She’s making him look like a fool, flitting from warrior to warrior to test his patience. She wanted him to chase her until he was exhausted, and Neteyam, the proud, capable, and unaccustomed to losing firstborn of the clan’s pillars, was reaching his breaking point. He was never fond of playing, but some games need strategy, too.

Neteyam’s gaze lingered on you. You were still working, your movements steady and humble, completely unaware of the weight of his stare. A slow, calculated thought began to take root in his mind.

“Finished, Neteyam,” the weaver said, patting his arm.

“Thank you,” Neteyam murmured. He stood up, taller and broader than most men.

Instead of heading back to where the warriors were gathering, he turned his steps toward the shadows. He walked with deliberate strides stopping right in front of your loom until his shadow blocked your light. “You’re doing that wrong.”

The voice startled you so badly that the bone needle slipped. “I—what?” you stammered, finally looking up.

Neteyam was standing over you. In the flickering firelight, his bioluminescent freckles were glowing like stars. “The weave,” he said, gesturing vaguely at the basket in your lap. “It’s too tight. It will snap when it dries.”

“The ones I did last moon were fine,” you murmured. You tried to look back down, to disappear into your work as you always did. “Is there something you need?”

Instead of answering, he sat. The movement was fluid, but there was a heaviness to it, sitting so close to you that his knee brushed against yours.

“I have a proposition for you, Y/N,” he said. His voice was low, dropping into a register that felt dangerously intimate. He knows your name?

You blinked, your insecurity rising up like a shield. “A proposition? Do you need help with the weaving?”

“No, no, I don’t,” he answered. “The elders speak the truth, you know,” he said, his voice a smooth baritone. “It would be a shame for you to be hidden in the dark.”

You finally looked up, your eyes wide. Neteyam wasn't looking at the fire, he was looking directly at you, and for the first time in your life, the Golden Son was smiling as if you were the only person in the clearing.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you breathed, your voice trembling.

He leaned in just an inch closer, his amber eyes sparking with a hidden intent. “Hear my proposition... It might just solve both our problems with the coming season.”

You swallowed hard, the dryness in your throat making it difficult to breathe. You were a weaver of threads, but sitting before you was practically the weaver of destinies in this clan. You know he could alter your life and he was looking at you with a terrifying amount of focus.

“Our... problems?“ you whispered, your fingers curling tightly around the bone needle. “I don’t have problems. And I don’t think someone like you have problems, Neteyam.”

He let out a short, huffed breath that might have been a laugh if his eyes weren't so sharp. “Everyone has a role to play. Sometimes, that role becomes... suffocating. My mother is already looking at the daughters of the council. She expects a match that strengthens the line. I’m thinking of Ka’ani. She’s the finest huntress my age.”

At the mention of her name, his jaw tightened. You remembered the last time you saw the girl. She was draped over the arm of a young warrior, her laughter loud and pointed, as if it was a performance, designed to reach the ears of a certain warrior. You remembered Neteyam standing in the training grounds then and everything clicked in your head.

“She wants a chase,” Neteyam continued, silencing your thoughts. “But I do not have the time for nonsensical games. And you... The elders say you are a shadow. That you will be left behind.”

“I am fine being a shadow,” you countered, though your voice lacked conviction. “It’s not complicated. I will have what comes and accept what doesn’t.”

“Shadows are lonely,” he said softly. “Be my partner. Not just for the ceremonies, but the communal meals as well. I will be with you. Let the clan see us, let them see you.”

Your heart gave a violent thud. You weren't a fool. You knew what this was. You were the girl no one would suspect he will actually notice, which made you the perfect weapon to make Ka’ani lose her mind with jealousy.

“You want me to be a decoy,” you said. “You want her to see you with me so she’ll get jealous. You want her to stop playing around.”

Neteyam didn't flinch at your bluntness. Instead, he reached out, his large hand covering yours where it rested on the loom. His skin was warm, his touch steady. “Correct. And in return, you will no longer be the girl the elders pity. You will be the woman everyone sees. When the season ends and the act is over, every hunter in this clan will finally know your name. You won't be a spinster, Y/N. I’ll make sure of that. You’ll have your pick of any man here.”

It was a cold, calculated trade. He will get the girl and you get a reputation and a way out of the shadows. He looked so sincere. You knew you should say no, you wouldn’t know how to act around him. But the thought of being someone for once, of walking through the village and not having people look through you, was a siren song you couldn't resist.

“What if I'm not a good actress?” you asked, your voice a mere breath.

Neteyam’s smile widened, but it didn't reach his eyes. It was the smile of a strategist who had just moved his final piece into place.

“Just sit by my side. I’ll do the rest.” he murmured, his thumb grazing your knuckles.

You took a shaky breath and nodded. “Okay. I'll do it.”

Neteyam squeezed your hand once, a seal of the contract, before standing up. He offered his hand to help you up, and when you took it, the world felt like it shifted on its axis. You were stepping out of the dark, and into a fire that you knew, eventually, would burn you to ash.

Neteyam is a meticulous director and it was very hard for you as an easily embarrassed person. Being seen isn’t even enough for him, the act had to be over the top! He wanted it to be undeniable.

“Chin up,” he whispered one afternoon. You were walking to the central clearing for the communal meal, his hand hovering over your waist. “You look like you’re walking to a funeral. Look at me. Smile.”

“It’s hard to smile when I feel like a piece of bait,” you murmured, keeping your eyes down, feeling at least a hundred eyes on you.

Neteyam let out a sharp breath. He stopped walking, maneuvering you to turn and face him. To anyone watching from a distance, it looked like a tender, private moment between lovers. Up close, his eyes were scanning the crowd, pinpointing exactly where Ka’ani was sitting with her friends.

“You agreed to this,” he reminded you, his voice low and firm. He reached out, his fingers tilting your chin upward. His touch was warm, but it lacked the softness you’d imagined his touch would have. It was the grip of a hunter holding a prized bow. “If you don't look happy, she’ll know it’s a ruse. Do you want the elders to go back to pitying you by tomorrow sun-up?”

The reminder of your own invisibility stung. You forced your lips to curve, a small, shaky smile that felt brittle. “Is this better?”

He studied your face for a beat too long, his thumb grazing your jawline. For a split second, his focus shifted from the crowd to the way your eyes searched his, but he shook it off quickly. “Better. Keep it there, hm?“

He led you toward the long tables. This was the stage. He made a show of picking out the best cuts of roasted meat for you, leaning in so close that his braids brushed against your shoulder. He was performative, ensuring the warriors nearby heard him.

“And since you’re starting a new tapestry,” he said, loud enough for Ka'ani to hear from across your table. He draped an arm over the back of your seating mat, effectively fencing you in. “I’d fly to the borders to get you fibers for it.”

You pursed your lips, lowering your head down to chuckle. “Your voice is too loud, Neteyam...“ you mumbled. “I’ll end up with busted ear drums by the time this is over.“

His own head lowered and angled toward you to catch what you’re saying, but it threw back as he let out a bark of genuine and deep laughter. You startled, your hand flying to his chest unconsciously, your head swiveling to the crowd of people who are now looking at you. You caught a glimpse of Ka’ani’s sharp eyes narrowing to slits.

The mission is working. You know it is working, you’ve seen Ka’ani’s candid reactions in the past days and it was almost comical. You don’t understand how she can let other men touch her when it was Neteyam she truly wants. It’s confusing, especially because you can see how she jealous she looks.

“You can relax, Neteyam,” you whispered, leaning toward him. “She’s gone. She stomped away five minutes ago.”

Neteyam’s posture didn't soften. He didn't pull his arm back. He took a slow sip of water, his expression unreadable. “The act doesn't stop just because the primary audience leaves, Y/N. There are other eyes. Word must travel. That is how a reputation is built.” He looked at you then, and for a moment, the strategic coldness was all there was. “Eat your food. We have a walk through the groves. People need to see us.”

The following days, and weeks, was a blur of choreographed intimacy. Neteyam was serious with his acts, he was everywhere you were. If you were gathering fibers, he was there, scouting the perimeter but always staying within your line of sight. During communal meals, he always ate with you, listening to you ramble and chuckling at everything you say.

Now that he has brought you out to light, more and more men were trying to talk to you, asking you random stuff they wouldn't even bother asking before. For them, you were almost unreachable in the past. You are too shy, too aloof, to be in the selection of girls they dare to play with.

But as the days pressed on, the meticulous director started losing his grip on the script.

The script had been clear: Neteyam would bring you into the light, and the hunters of the clan would finally notice you. It was exactly what he had promised. But as he stood on a ridge overlooking the path back to Hometree, watching you walk beside a hunter who was carrying your bundle of fibers under his arm, the air in his lungs seemed to turn to ice.

The hunter was Ki’ong, a young man known for his easy smiles and a way of speaking that reminded him of the way you speak. If he saw this moons ago, the match would have made so much sense. The gentle hunter matches your gentleness. But today, he felt only bitterness. You were laughing, the sound he wanted to bottle and bring with him on patrol to help him calm down.

Now, Ki’ong is easily basking in it, his tail twitching with a rhythmic interest that Neteyam recognized all too well for he was a man, too. His hand tightened around the grip of the bow until the wood groaned. His jaw locked. This was the trade, wasn't it? He had told you that by the time the season ended, you would have your pick of any man in the clan. So why did he feel like he wanted to shoot an arrow through the dirt at Ki’ong’s feet as a warning?

His feet moved, and by the time you reached the shadow of the massive fern near the entrance, Neteyam was already there, blocking the path, calling your name in a sharp and dangerous tone that made Ki’ong stop in his tracks.

“Neteyam!“ you said, surprised. “I thought you weren’t back from the scout yet.”

Neteyam ignored you, his amber eyes fixed entirely on the other hunter. He stepped forward, entering your personal space with a possessiveness that felt far too real to be an act. You looked around. There was no crowd and no Ka’ani at all, and this confuses you. What more, Neteyam wasn’t even looking around for the audience. He was looking only at Ki’ong’s hand, which was hovering just a bit too close to your elbow.

Ki'ong blinked, his easy smile faltering under the sheer weight of Neteyam's stare. “I saw her in the forest, Neteyam, uh... What she was carrying was heavy—”

“Thank you for that, but I’ll take it from here,” Neteyam cut him off, his voice dropping into a warning growl. He reached out, not gently, and pulled your fiber basket from the hunter.

“I'll... see you later then... Y/N,” Ki’ong said before walking away.

Neteyam’s head snapped back to Ki’ong’s retreating form, his entire body coiled like a viperwolf ready to strike at the mere mention of a later. You watched him, your confusion slowly melting into a mischievous realization. You looked around one more time, and there’s still nothing but a stray woodsprite. No Ka’ani. No prying hunters. Just a very, very grumpy warrior holding a basket of fibers as if it were a thermal detonator.

A bubble of laughter escaped you, and you poked his rigid bicep.

“Wow,” you giggled, leaning in close to peer up at his stormy face. “Neteyam, that was... incredible. The growl? The death stare? You’re getting really good at this. If I didn't know better, I’d think you were actually trying to pick a fight over my honor.”

Neteyam didn't relax. His jaw remained a hard line. “He was overstepping. He was touching you.”

“He was just helping me,” you countered, your eyes dancing with amusement. You started walking, motioning for him to follow with your basket. “But honestly, I’m impressed. You’re such a perfectionist. Even with no audience, you’re still acting the territorial suitor.”

He fell into step behind you, his tail still lashing even though he’s not speaking.

“Oh, come on,” you teased, walking backward for a few steps so you could admire his scowl. “Let’s just hope Ki’ong tells everyone about your reaction. If word gets back to Ka’ani that the great Neteyam almost bared his teeth at a hunter just for carrying my basket... well, our mission is as good as won. It’s going to make it sound so real!” You turned back around, a satisfied hum leaving your throat. “But I don’t think Ki’ong is the type to talk about stuff like that. He seemed too nice to gossip.”

“How would you know? You don’t know him,” Neteyam cut you off, his voice sharp.

You laughed again, the sound light and airy. “Maybe I just know. I can sense if people have good hearts,” you said, reaching back to give his chest a playful, comforting pat. “Come on,” you smiled, oblivious to the way his hand tightened on the basket handle until his knuckles turned pale. “Let’s bring that to the looms. You can put all that 'warrior energy' into helping me sort the threads.”

You turned on your heels and skipped ahead, feeling lighter than you had in days. Behind you, Neteyam stood for a beat longer, his eyes locked on the sway of your braids.

                                                           ₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

You two were swimming in the river, not alone anyway, because it’s just one of your many stages. His fellow hunters and warriors were swimming in the river several paces away from the two of you, but he has since swam to a secluded bend away from their prying eyes. You don’t always swim in the river. Mostly because you don’t want to swim alone, so now, you’re enjoying everything, even the reflection of the shimmering canopy above. You kept diving for as long as you could, the act momentarily paused because he had stirred you two away from the audience. You shrieked when you felt something tiny dart on your ankle. You dove your head, swimming after the tiny fish, your hand shotting forward to catch it and you bubbled a laugh underwater when you actually caught it.

You swam to the surface, holding up the fish as you laughed, the sound of your mirth echoing off the rock walls like bells. Neteyam stared at you from where he is, leaning against a mossy boulder, his chest heaving slightly, though he had been idle the entire time. You waded toward him, bringing him the fish, but he looked so serious that your lips pushed forward instead. Neteyam gritted his teeth at the sight of your smile fading.

“You looked like the sky had fallen on you. What is it?” you asked, putting the fish back in the water and watching it dart away from you with a small smile.

“Our scout yesterday everning” he said suddenly, his voice low.

You nodded. He was late to the dinner last night... You figured there was something wrong, but you heard no news about it.

“There was a near skirmish with a violent clan. They were one of those clans whose lands were spoiled by the sky people's actions. Apparently, they’ve been looking for a place to settle in, but they are also harming non-combatant clans.”

You stopped splashing, the water settling around you. You hadn't heard about this. The elders usually kept such news quiet to avoid panic, but to know this now, and to see how burdened Neteyam was by it, you couldn't help but be bothered.

“The council expects me to be like him,” he said, staring at his reflection in the water. He didn't specify who him was and he didn’t have to. You know who he was talking about. As the firstborn of Toruk Makto, Neteyam has always lived in the shadow of a legend. “Every battle, every hunt, every word I speak... it's measured against a standard I will never reach.”

You stopped creating ripples in the waters, looking up at him. “You don’t need to be your father, Neteyam,” you said softly. “Have they considered a dialogue between the people of that clan? Perhaps... The chieftains of our neighboring clans could convene in a large council and speak with their representatives. I don’t think it needs to lead to people getting hurt when speaking would reach a much better conclusion.”

Neteyam went still, his gaze snapping from the water’s surface to your face. He watched you with an intensity he had directed to no one, but you wouldn’t know that. For a moment, the weight in his shoulders seemed to flicker, unsettled by the peaceful logic of your words.

“A dialogue,” he repeated. He had been so focused on formations, weapon readiness, and the cold calculations of a warrior that the idea of a diplomatic council felt like a sudden breath of fresh air. “Why do you think I am a warrior?” he asked, a ghost of a smile touching his lips. “I am taught to protect. To fight.”

“You are taught to lead,” you corrected gently, lightly splashing a bit of water toward his chest. “And a leader’s first duty isn’t to fight, but to ensure peace. Your warriors will think of war, you will think of how to protect the people and the forest. The people of that clan is desperate, for sure... They lost their home, they are living like beggars. There is a reason they steal and harm the people who stop them. Have the clans thought of helping them?”

He blinked, his amber eyes searching yours as if he could find all the answers there now.

You smiled lopsidedly, “You can think of all that later though,” you said softly, reaching into the crevice of the rock wall and plucking a small, ripe fruit that hung low. His eyes watched you peel it with nimble fingers. “But right now? The water is cool, the fish are annoying, and you can rest your mind. Try being here for five minutes.”

You gave him the fruit and when he took it, his fingers brushed against yours, lingering in a way that wasn't for show. He ate it slowly, watching you as if you were a piece of the puzzle he found after a long search. The silence was warm, humming with a new, dangerous kind of energy.

“You think it could be that simple?” he asked, his voice a low vibration.

“I think you make it too hard,” you laughed, feeling a sudden surge of playfulness. You stepped back, the water splashing around your chest. “I’ll bet a week’s worth of weaving that I can reach the falls before you!”

Before he could answer, you dove, your body disappearing into the water.

Neteyam stood there for a heartbeat, stunned. He didn't check the treeline. He didn't look back toward the other hunters. He didn't think about his father's expectations or the violent clan at the border. He simply dove in after you.

He caught up to you just as you reached the white water of the falls. You surfaced, gasping for air and laughing, only to find him right there, his eyes bright with a genuine, carefree light you had never seen before. You panicked at the sight of him, though, shrieking and kicking the hand that held your ankle. He barked a laugh, deep and resonant, that even he knows he hasn't laughed that way before. He reached out again, his hand finding yours under the water, squeezing it before pulling you to him. For the first time, he wasn't holding you so people would notice. He was holding you so you wouldn't drift away.

That night, as you both walked back to the village, Neteyam’s hand stayed on your waist even after you had passed the last group of onlookers. When you saw Ka’ani appeared near the communal fire, looking particularly striking in her new top and loincloth that seemed to match the feathers in her hair, Neteyam didn't even turn his head even after you pointed it out. He was too busy listening to you describe the specific shade of teal the river turns into when the moons are at a particular shade. There's lightness in his chest that made him feel like he was flying.

Several nights later, Neteyam moved through the crowd with a lightness in his step that hadn't been there days prior. The communal dinner was buzzing with different conversations, but for him, it was merely a background, his eyes locked on your form, looking like a man who had finally found the trail home.

Earlier that afternoon, the Council had been tense. Jake and the elders focused on battle plans, on dispatching warriors to fight when necessary. Neteyam saw how the council, including him, lack the sight you have to see things differently. He didn't know where it was coming from, but his chest was puffing with full confidence on the idea you had given him, that when he spoke of dialogue, of the displaced clan’s desperation, and of communal aid rather than battles that would only end in loss, his voice was laced with certainty.

Jake had looked at his son with a mixture of surprise and pride. “That is a path well thought of, Neteyam,” he said.

“You think like a true leader of the people now, son,” Neytiri had added, her hand resting on his shoulder. “You have grown.”

Neteyam had offered them a small, humble smile. “I cannot take the credit, Mother. It was a good friend who gave me the perspective I needed,” he said.

Neytiri tilted her head. “Oh? Who is this friend?” she asked.

Neteyam had looked at his mother. It was the easiest question he’d been asked, but it strike him quite deeply that he didn’t know what to say. “Someone I... trust deeply.”

Now, standing in the glow of the fire, Neteyam didn't even pause to greet the other hunters who called out to him. He made a beeline for the corner where you sat, tucked away with your latest weaving. When you looked up, your eyes widened at the sight of the massive, genuine grin splitting his face.

“They accepted it,“ he said, dropping down beside you, his presence instantly making your corner feel warmer. “The envoys will be sent at first light. My father and the elders... actually listened. We’re calling a council of all the neighboring clans to help the displaced.”

You felt a swell of pride in your chest, your grin matching his. “See? Sometimes, you need to rest your mind and your soul, clear it until it is still water,“ you gestured in the air and be watched you with a lazy smile. “Only then can you see the path clearly.“

Neteyam’s gaze was soft, lingering on your face in a way that made your heart skip a beat. It was no longer the calculated look of someone directing a performance, it was the look of someone truly seeing you. You tear your gaze away, picking at the nuts on your leaf plate.

“I have something for you,” he murmured, reaching into the small pouch at his waist. He held out his hand, palm up, revealing a mountain of perfectly ripe berries, the kind that only grow on the highest, most dangerous ledges.

You gasped, your fingers trembling slightly as you reached out for one. “Neteyam, these are rare. How did you—”

“I was scouting the upper ridges,” he lied effortlessly, though his eyes twinkled with the truth of the effort he’d put into finding them just for you. “They’re all yours. Take them.”

You popped one into your mouth, the burst of sweetness making you hum. Neteyam let out a low chuckle, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he watched you enjoy the small gift. He didn't even notice the silence that had fallen over the nearby tables as they all watched him dote on the girl whose voice they rarely heard.

From across the fire, Ka’ani felt the roasted meat in her mouth turn to ash. She couldn't even swallow. She had been so sure of what Neteyam wanted, sure that it was her in her strength and vitality. She was merely trying to break at his carefully cold facade, but he never did give her the satisfaction of seeing it.

But as she watched him now, she saw the way he leaned toward you, his body instinctively closing off the rest of the world to keep you in his private circle. She saw the way he laughed, unguarded, soft, and intimate. She had never seen that light in his eyes directed at her. She had never seen him look at anyone with such... peace.

Her fingers dug into the bark of her seating mat. This wasn't a game anymore. The challenge she thought she was winning had been forfeited by the man she wanted most, and the realization made her blood boil with a jealousy that was no longer a performance. As fot Neteyam, he has long forgotten to look if Ka’ani even had her eyes on them, and tonight, he had forgotten she was even there.

Days later, you were at the washing stream, submerging your fibers in the cool water. You were thinking too much of Neteyam and the ride you had on his ikran last night when he brought you to the Hallelujah Mountains, but your peace was disrupted with the presence of another. You stopped and turned around, your breath hitching when you saw Ka’ani step out from behind a massive fern.

“Ka’ani,” you said, your voice steadier than you felt. You adjusted the empty leaf plate in your hands, refusing to cower.

“How does it feel?” she sneered, pacing a slow circle around you, her tail lashing behind her. “To be the little pet? To be the girl Neteyam uses to get a reaction from me? You think those smiles of his mean anything? You think that look in his eyes is real?” She let out a mocking laugh. “He’s a warrior. The future Olo’eyktan. Do you think think I don’t know what he’s doing? He wants me, and he’s using a quiet mouse like you to punish me for playing hard to get.”

You pursed your lips to stop yourself from chuckling. This is comedy to you, but you also feel guilty that she seems to be really upset. If only she weren’t being mean, you’d have advised her to go to Neteyam and talk to him properly, so that they can fix things between them.

“If you are so certain of that, Ka’ani,” you said, your voice dropping to a calm, melodic register that seemed to grate on her nerves, “then why are you talking to me?”

Ka’ani froze, her lips pulling back in a snarl.

“If you're so sure he’s yours, go to him,” you continued, stepping closer into her space, though your heart was hammering against your ribs. “Whine to him. Demand his attention. Tell him to come back to you. Perhaps it will do you better.”

You didn't wait for her to respond, you walked past her, maintaining your composure until you were well out of her sight. You stopped when you’re well away from her, pursing your lips. “Wah... That was a good one from me. That’s literally method acting,” you chuckled to yourself.

At the same time, Neteyam was on patrol through the high canopies of the Omatikaya lands’ borders. Patrols are usually a time of hyper-vigilance for him, he was trained to scan for the unnatural glint of obsidian or the misplaced shadow of a predator. But today, his eyes kept snagging on a bright plant. He spotted a cluster of a familiar stalk, their ribbed skin a good shade of cerulean.

Moons ago, he would have seen them as a slippery obstacle on a landing branch. Now, he found himself hovering his ikran near the cliff edge, reaching out to pluck a single stem. He rubbed the surface, watching the pigment stain his thumb.

This, he thought, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips, this is the blue she said looked like the deep water in the eastern seas. He found himself wondering about every plant he passed, not for its toxicity or its strength which he is wont to do as a vigilant hunter, but for how beautiful its hidden colors would be in the eyes of a weaver he keeps thinking about. He didn’t even have names for the shades he collected, but he knew you would find them beautiful.

When he finally returned to hometree, he didn’t head for the warriors' lodge to report in. He went straight to the weaving looms. His heart doing a strange, light hop when he saw your form hunched over a weaving loom. He silently crept up behind you and leaned down to tickle the curve of your ear with the cool tip of the blue plant.

You shrieked, your shoulders jumping as you nearly dropped your bone needle. You whirled around, your eyes wide but when you saw Neteyam, standing there with that lazy, genuine grin, you glared but still laughed.

“My work will be ruined because of you,” you breathed, clutching your chest.

“I thought a weaver's hands were supposed to be steady,” he teased, his voice low, handing you the blue stalk. “I saw this on the ridge. Is it the one that turns to ink when you boil it?”

You took the plant, your fingers brushing his. “It is. I.. I'm surprised you remembered.”

“I remember everything you say,” he said, and for a second, the air between you felt thick and heavy with a truth that had nothing to do with your deal. He tore his gaze away when his cheeks burned at the realization of what he said.

Before he could lose his footing, an elder weaver called out from the circle, asking you to venture into the lower groves to find specific climbing fibers for the council’s new tapestry.

“I'll accompany you,” Neteyam said before you could even reach for your basket.

As you walked into the dappled light of the forest, your fear of the ruse ending began to fade, replaced by the sheer comfort of his presence. You started to ramble, and Neteyam, as you have discovered in the past weeks, was a good listener. He didn't interrupt, or patronize. He simply watched you with a curious, steady gaze that made you feel... heard.

“You see that?” you said one afternoon, pointing to a cluster of deep crimson berries clinging to a damp log. “Most people think they’re just for eating, but if you crush them with a bit of limestone and the sap from a yellow stalk, you get a purple that looks like the sky before the sun sets. It’s the only color that stays after the fiber is boiled.”

Neteyam leaned in, peering at the berries as if they were a new species of prey.

“And those,” you continued, stumbling over your words in your haste to explain. “If you harvest them when they’re still young, they give a gold that practically glows in the dark. I used it for the elders' ceremonial sashes last year. Everyone thought I’d traded with the reef clans for it, but it was just right here, under our feet, being stepped on.”

You laughed, a bright sound that echoed through the trees, but when you realized you were rambling, you quickly shut your mouth, touching your lips.

“Sorry.  I’m talking too much,“ you gripped the basket hard.

Neteyam stopped walking. He turned to you with a genuine frown on his face. “You can talk my ears off. I’ve spent my whole life looking at the forest for threats or targets. I never realized how much I’m missing what was right in front of me.” He chuckled, a low vibration in his chest. “I found myself looking at different plants lately, wondering if it was the right kind of hue for your weaving.”

The admission was bold and he didn’t even feel shame even though he did feel his cheeks burn. He was thinking of you when you weren't together. The deal was working, but the lines were blurring so fast he doesn’t even care about the reason it began.

Weeks later, the success of the sturmbeest hunt was the reason for the thrumming of drums and chanting of the Omatikaya warriors dancing in the hometree’s communal clearing. High on the central dais, the Olo’eyktan’s voice carried over the throng as he announced the success of the council’s efforts to begin a dialogue with the displaced clan that has been disrupting the way of lives not only of the people, but that of the neighboring clans as well.

The chieftains of the other forest clans had apparently agreed to convene in a Great Council with the envoys returning with messages of unity. Neteyam stood beside you in the crowd, his shoulder brushing your arm. The rigid, perfect posture of a mighty warrior was gone, replaced by a relaxed stance he only seemed to find when he was within your orbit.

“You did it,” you whispered, grinning up at him.

Neteyam looked down at you, the firelight reflecting in his eyes. “We did it,” he corrected softly. “I was ready to lead a war party until you handed me that fruit and told me to breathe. I would have missed the obvious path if you hadn't been standing there to point it out.”

You shrugged, picking a berry out of the leaf bowl he gave you. “So, what happens now?” you asked. “Now that the chieftains have agreed?”

“The next step may be the hardest,” Neteyam said, his expression turning thoughtful. “We have to send someone to the displaced clan. Not to fight, but to invite their Olo’eyktan. Someone has to show them we aren't their enemies and that we’ll help them settle and get back to their own feet.”

You looked at him, admiring the way the light caught the beads you’d given him which he had immediately put in his braids. “You should go, Neteyam.”

He blinked, looking surprised. “Me? My father will likely send an experienced diplomat, or perhaps a senior warrior.”

“No,” you insisted, stepping closer. “You’re the one who suggested it to the council. It’s a great opportunity for you to hone your diplomatic skills. You’re going to lead this people one day, and this might not be the last time a clan is desperate or angry. If you go, you’ll learn a lot.”

Neteyam went quiet, watching you with an intensity that made your breath hitch. He listened to you as if every word you spoke was important. “You really think I can do it?”

“I know you can,” you said firmly. “You have the heart for it.” You looked at your berries again, eating more of it.

The wind shifted then, kicking up a swirl of fine wood-dust from the dancefloor. You winced, your hand flying to your eye as you felt a sharp things.

“Ow—wait, something’s in my eye.”

“Don’t rub it,” Neteyam said immediately. His hands were suddenly on your face, his touch firm but incredibly gentle as he cupped your jaw. “Look at me. Keep it open.”

You looked up at him, your vision watering and blurred. He was so close you could feel the heat radiating off his skin. He leaned down, his face mere inches from yours, and blew a soft, steady breath across your eye to clear the dust.

“Is that better?” he whispered, blowing another.

You chuckled as you blinked several times, your heart doing a frantic dance in your chest. “It’s just a bit of dust, Neteyam, you look so serious,” you said, smiling.

He stared at you, still not pulling away and when you didn’t move your head, he tilted his and pressed his lips to yours. It was deep, soft, and carried the weight of his yearning in the past moons. He didn’t know how long he had wanted to do that, but the softness of your lips is making him melt like candle wax.

In your belly, it felt like a hundred forest ikrans had suddenly taken flight. You felt giddy, almost lightheaded, but the thought of the deal flickered in your mind. When he pulled back just a fraction to let you breathe, your eyes pierced through him and spotted Ka’ani across the fire, her face fuming as she watched Neteyam’s back, specifically how he was bent at the waist just so he could kiss you.

“She’s looking...” you murmured against his lips, your voice a shaky mess.

Neteyam’s mind was hazy, drugged by the taste of your lips. His brows furrowed. “Who?” he asked, his voice a gravelly rumble as he kissed the corner of your mouth, his hands tightening on your jaw.

You closed your eyes, feeling the spark of his skin against yours. “Ka’ani...”

“And?” he responded, his nose nuzzling yours before he angled his head to kiss you more firmly. “Open up...”

“Uhm, about what? I mean, she talked to—”

Neteyam let out a low, vibrant chuckle that vibrated through your lips. “Your mouth, space cadet.”

Before you could even process what he meant, he darted his tongue out and licked at the seam of your lips. Your head reared back in genuine shock though, your eyes popping wide open.

“That was...” you sputtered, your face turning a deep, embarrassed crimson. “Why did you lick me? Neteyam!”

He barked a deep, resonant laugh, a real, belly-deep sound that made his whole frame shake. The sight of your shocked expression was too much for him. You tried to maintain your dignity, but his joy was too infectious.

“It’s a sweet gesture!” he laughed, reaching out to pull you back toward him.

“What? Like a fwampop?” you asked, but you were already giggling, the two of you leaning against each other and laughing so hard you forgot the rest of the clan was even there.

The festival fire continued to crackle, but for the rest of the night, Neteyam didn't leave your side. He followed you to the communal food pits when you offered to help the cooks, not letting you carry the heavy food trays so you just rambled about anything you could think of. Every time your hand brushed his, or you leaned in to tell him a secret about one of the dancers, he looked at you with a gaze so heavy and warm.

The next morning, the festival fog had settled over the village, but Neteyam was already awake and waiting by the weaving looms. He was standing there with a slightly large, intricately carved wooden bobbin. Something he spent days working on, but he won’t tell you that.

“Bobbin?” you asked with a huge smile when he gently handed it to you.

He shrugged nonchalantly, as if coming here early in the morning before his patrol to bring you something he had worked on for days meant nothing. “I saw you struggling with the one that kept snagging your thread,” he said. His fingers lingered on yours as you accepted it, his thumb tracing the back of your hand in a slow caress.

“Wow... This is perfect, Neteyam,” you said, beaming up at him as marveled at the craftsmanship.

He stared at you, fighting the urge to punch the air or beat up his chest as if he won a huge prize.

“You really didn't have to. Do you not have patrol?” you asked.

“I have,” he said. But he wanted to see you. Talk to you about last night, to clarify that the kiss had nothing to do with your deal.

“Alright, then. I’ll see you at lunch,” you said, your attention already focused on your new bobbin. He stood there for a few more seconds, just watching you, his ears twitching at the sound of your voice.

Later that afternoon, though, the rain began to pour while you were in the forest, the raindrops caching you near the lower groves. You tried to shield your basket of dyed fibers with your own body but just as heavy drops soaked your braids, you saw a familiar figure coming, holding a massive, broad leaf.

“Neteyam?” you uttered in surprise.

He had a boyish grin on as he held the leaf over your head. He was getting soaked, the rain slicking down his blue skin and making his muscles gleam, but he didn't seem to care. He stepped so close that his chest was almost touching your shoulder, the heat from his body acting as a shield against the chill.

“How did you even know I was here?” you asked, chuckling and pulling him close so he won’t get wet.

“I think I already know your routines,” he said, smirking playfully, though his voice was thick with a tenderness that made your breath hitch. He reached out and tucked a wet strand of braid behind your ear, his touch far more lingering than it needed to be. His eyes dropped to your lips for a heartbeat before returning to yours, as though searching for something.

You tear you gaze away. “I swear, you’re going to catch a cold! And you’re all muddy. What if Ka’ani sees you? You always have to be in character, you know?” you exclaimed, trying to push the leaf more toward his side.

Neteyam’s smile faltered for a second, a flicker of frustration crossing his features before he masked it with a soft chuckle. “Right. The act.”

He guided you back toward the shelter of the Hometree, his hand resting firmly on the small of your back. As you walked, he intentionally slowed his pace, pulling you closer to avoid a puddle. When you reached the dry roots of the tree, he didn't immediately let go. He leaned down, his face close to yours.

“Do you really think I'm doing all this for the audience?” he asked, his golden eyes searching yours with an intensity that felt like a plea.

Your brows furrowed, panic rising in you before laughing nervously, patting his arm and moving away into the shelter of the hometree’s canopy. “Well, you're a very dedicated actor, ‘Teyam. I have to hand it to you. Everybody believes us,” you said with a huge smile.

Neteyam went still. He stared at you, his hand still in the air, his mouth slightly open as if he wanted to say something. Instead, he let out a long, slow sigh, his shoulders dropping just an inch. “I suppose I am dedicated,” he said quietly, a sad, lopsided smile touching his lips.

“I’m just glad I can help you with this. I’ve never had an actual friend, you know?” you said brightly, grabbing your basket from him. “See you at dinner? I heard they’re serving the smoked fish you like.”

Neteyam watched you walk away, your silhouette disappearing into the winding ramp. He looked down at the hand that had held the leaf, his fingers still tingling from the brief contact with your skin. “Damn it...” he whispered to the empty air. This isn’t an act anymore and he doesn’t know how to cross the threshold between the stage and the reality.

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“No way! You can't move there, that's against the rules!” Lo’ak barked, leaning over the board.

“You’re not one to talk about rules!” Spider countered, reaching for your game piece to help you. “Go on, girl, take his territory. Do it!”

You laughed, your face flushed with the kind of rowdy joy you usually only heard from a distance before. You slammed your piece down, successfully “capturing” Lo’ak’s base. You turned to Spider and Lo’ak, throwing up a hand for a high-four. “Did you see that?“

Spider barked a laughter. “Tell him, ‘suck it!’”

“Suck it?” you repeated with a confused smile.

The word had barely left your lips when the air in the room seemed to shift. Neteyam, who had been leaning against a nearby pillar watching you with a soft, protective smile as he sharpen his bows suddenly went rigid. He looked at Lo’ak and Spider, who were both chuckling, explaining to you what it meant.

“Hey, don't look at us,” Lo’ak muttered, though his tail was twitching with mischief. “She’s just part of the crew now, brother. One of the guys.”

Neteyam pushed off the pillar, stepping into the circle. He ignored the snickering from Lo’ak and Kiri’s knowing smirk. “She is not one of the guys,” Neteyam hissed under his breath.

You turned to him, still grinning from your victory. “Neteyam,” you called and his ears twitched at your soft voice. “Are you angry?”

He blinked, shaking his head right away. “No, no, of course not,” he told you, his eyes softening but a flitter of reprimanding gaze to Lo’ak and Spider promised later. He had just introduced you to them more than a week ago, for Eywa’s sake, and now, they are already teaching you the wrong things!

“You're teaching her the wrong things,” Neteyam told the two later that night when you left the small kelku they created for their games.

“Brother, I think she’s enjoying just fine. I’ve seen her before, she’s usually alone. I’m sure Lo’ak and Spider are just who she needs,” Kiri said,

“Right! She’s really fun. Just yesterday, we played with squid fruit by the river and she threw a mashed handful on my face. Look, I still have stains all over!“ Spider said, pointing at his pink-stained face.

“What?” Neteyam replied, horrified, remembering the stain on your temple that he saw last night. “Just what are you two—”

Lo’ak snicked. “Bro,“ he put a hand on Neteyam’s shoulder. “Don’t be too grumpy. You said you want her to have more friends and we are her friends now,“ he grinned.

Neteyam let out a huff, rolling his eyes. He understands this. You’d told him you have never had an actual friend and he thought he could remedy that. He’d give you everything, if he could.

A few days later, he insisted on coming with you to the forest and you agreeed, knowing you will have to pass by the training grounds where Ka’ani could be and she was indeed around, her eyes following Neteyam as if she’s waiting for him to spare her a glance but he was focused on the path ahead, oblivious or uncaring to her longing stares.

“Ka’ani was looking at you,“ you grinned up at him, nudging his side with your elbow.

You saw his brows furrowed for a moment and then his face hardened. You pushed your lips forward. You assumed it was because Ka’ani still didn’t go and talk to him. The woman is fierce warrior, she was probably too proud to see that as an option. She wants Neteyam to come to her. To her credit, you had not seen her in the company of man in the past weeks... You wondered if Neteyam has realized that.

“You know... I noticed Ka’ani has not been hanging out with guys lately? Have you noticed that?“ you asked, angling your head to look up at him as you rambled, “What if she’s just waiting for you to go and talk to her? I think that’s what she wants. She talked to me, you know? She was mad, so I think she was jealous, isn’t that great—”

“She talked to you? And she was mad?” he turned to you, his face etched with both anger and worry.

You grinned. “Yes. I can tell she was jealous—”

“Did she hurt you?”

“No, she didn’t...” you said. “She was just angry, because the act is working—”

You saw the bone in his jaw tick as if he was clenching his teeth. “Let’s not talk about her.”

Your lips pushed forward and you shrugged, listening instead to the soft crunch of dried leaves breaking beneath your feet. Neteyam fell quiet then, his tail twitching with a restlessness that told you something was weighing on him. You walked faster to match his face, pressing a palm on his chest which made him stop walking... and breathing, too.

“What’s bothering you?” you asked, standing in front of him and feeling his chest slowly deflate.

This is crazy. He has never noticed girls’ voices before, but now, they could probably use yours to cool him off. Your voice caresses him and your laugh sounds like bells in his ear. He wouldn’t have said a word if a different person had asked him, but you always have a way to make him open his mouth and just talk.

“The council... they are advising against it,” he said, his voice heavy. “They think sending me to the displaced clan as an envoy is too much risk, because they see me as a target, not a diplomat.”

Your eyes searched his face and he felt warm inside. “And what does your father say?”

He let out a frustrated sigh and your hand caressed his chest. His hand rose to catch your hand, pressing it against his lips. “He doesn’t say anything. Not yet. He just listens and only then he’ll decide. I’m worried he’ll take their advice,“ he looked at you.

You huffed a breath, patting his chest, and giving him a supportive smile. “Then remind them, Neteyam, that you are no longer a child to be shielded. At your age, your father was already Olo’eyktan. You have to learn diplomacy just as much as any other leader. It wouldn't do you any good to be a leader who is ill-equipped in the discussions of peace.”

Neteyam’s gaze softened, the tension bleeding out of his shoulders as he looked at you. You removed your hand but he caught it again. “Thank you... for always sharing my burden. I don't think I could have faced them today without hearing that.”

You chuckled, swinging your joined hands lightly. “Bro, it’s nothing! That’s what friends are for, as Spider says,” you beamed at him before turning back to the path ahead, missing the way his face completely dropped.

His smile faltered, and then it deadpanned. It was a total double-kill. Bro and friends in a single breath. You might as well have just shot him in the head and he would have taken it lighter. He huffed, his tail lashing once in irritation as he followed after you.

“I’m not your 'bro,'” he said, suddenly reaching forward to grab your basket from your arm.

Your brows furrowed in confusion, and you laughed at his sudden grumpiness. “Silly! We’re all brothers and sisters in the eyes of the Great Mother,” you said, lightheartedly twirling as you walked, enjoying the dappled sunlight. You didn't even notice how his eyes narrowed as he watched you move through the forest with no care in the world, seemingly oblivious to how much Lo’ak and Spider were ruining his life with their vocabulary lessons.

He had reached his limit.

Before you could twirl again, Neteyam stepped toward you. He reached out, gently but firmly grabbing your arm. Your eyes widened in surprise as he guided you backward, gently pushing you against the trunk of a nearby tree. You looked up at him, your breath catching. His face was inches away from yours, his golden eyes burning with a sudden, fierce intensity that made your heart hammer against your ribs.

“Neteyam?” you whispered, your eyes dropping to his lips before you stupidly, unconsciously licked yours.

He leaned down, and when you didn't pull away, he pressed his lips to yours in a kiss that was deeper and more demanding than the one at the festival. He licked your lips again and you chuckled against his mouth but when his tongue darted inside yours, you made a sound that sounded so womanly it surprised even you. His tongue tangled with yours as his lips devoured yours.

Everything made you feel hot, and weirdly, tingly between your legs that you had to close your thighs together.

When he finally pulled back, his hands moved to cup your face with a tenderness that made your chest ache. “There’s something I want to talk to you about,” he said, his voice low and trembling.

You blinked. “Now?”

“There are things that needs to be dealt with first,“ he said, caressing your jaw. You nodded.

The thing that needed dealing was Ka’ani. He didn’t know the extent of the conversation you had with the huntress, but he knew how Ka’ani talks, and the fact tha you said she was mad solidified what he knew. You two walked back to Hometree, with him carrying your basket for you. The elders giggled at the sight of him following you around like a loyal pet, and when he left with a lingering brush of his thumb against your cheek, they nosed around and asked if the warrior was truly courting you like they kept hearing from the youth.

“No, he’s not... He’s a friend,” you said, noticing the arm band on your basket. You took it and thought perhaps Neteyam had left it there.

You followed after him, thinking he hasn’t gone far yet, but when as stood in the Hometree’s shadowed entrance, you saw him approach Ka’ani near the training grounds, your breath hitching. Ka’ani tilted her head and smirked at him, turning on her heels into the privacy of the deeper woods. You saw Neteyam follow and you tucked yourself behind a massive fern, your pulse thrumming in your ears.

In the dimmed bioluminescence of the forest, Neteyam stood in front of the huntress, seeing that Ka’ani was already smiling, a triumphant, sharp look. “No need to say sorry, Neteyam, if that’s how you’ll start your piece. Because I know,” she said. “I know exactly what you’ve been doing. You’ve used that weaver girl to make me jealous, to straighten me up. I get it, so you can drop the act now. I’ve learned my lesson. I know it’s me you want—”

“I do not want you, Ka’ani,” Neteyam’s voice cut through her arrogance like a blade. “I never even thought I wanted you. Yes, you are a strong and fierce warrior, and I once thought that was what I needed by my side for when I lead one day... but I didn’t realize just how much I needed to see and be seen.“

“And have I not seen you?” Ka’ani snarled, her tail lashing. “We trained together, Neteyam! We fought, we hunted! I was always here! You just spared that girl a glance literally like yesterday and you think she’s perfect for you—”

“You don’t know me in the ways that matter, Ka’ani,” he countered. “I’ve had more connection with a rock, and I don't know why I ever entertained the thought that I needed someone strong by my side when strength is not the only thing this clan needs.”

Ka’ani’s face contorted, her pride wounded in front of the man she wanted so much and thought wanted her, too. “We can get to know each other! I regret it, alright? I regret playing around. I’ll focus—”

“Don’t regret what you did,” Neteyam said. “I’m glad you did it, because not only did it prevent me from making a huge mistake, it also brought me to her. And now, I have the rest of my life in front of me, bright and clear as day.” He stepped closer to her, his voice dropping to a warning growl. “Have a good life, Ka’ani. And do not ever approach my woman to tell her nonsense again.”

He turned on his heel and walked away, leaving Ka’ani watching him in deep contempt. All those last words he said not to do? She will do it. Back at Hometree, you sat by your loom, your fingers trembling as you picked up a strand of gold thread. You forced a smile onto your face, practicing the words of congratulations you would give him, even as you felt like the sky was turning a purple far deeper and darker than any storm. That was probably what he was going to talk about with you...

Outside, Neteyam walked back to Hometree with a sense of purpose he’d never felt before. He headed straight for the weaving looms. Tonight, you will be his. He’d tell you the act ends here and you two will start something real. No act from here on end. No games. Just the two of you.

But he never made it to the looms.

A hunter intercepted him midway, out of breath and frantic. “Neteyam! The night patrol was ambushed by the violent clan. Two are wounded. Your father is calling for the council.”

The shift in his demeanor was instantaneous. The soft, yearning man disappeared, replaced by the disciplined warrior. He hurried to the council, standing before Jake with a firm resolve. “I’ll go,” Neteyam insisted. “Fighting would be the last thing I’ll do. I’ll talk to them, Dad. You call for the chieftains to convene and I’ll convince them to come.”

He left within the hour, riding on his ikran, but his heart was back at Hometree, in the weaving looms... He thought he’d be back by light, but he didn’t know he’d be gone for days.

You had been crying. You learned that Neteyam left for a mission regarding the displaced clan, so even though you were heartbroken, you went to the Tree of Souls to pray for his journey. Your vulnerability was too obvious as you walk back to Hometee, and in it, Ka’ani found her opening. You were so close to Hometree when she stepped out from the shadows, a satisfied smirk on her face.

“Hi,” she greeted. “I’m pretty sure you’d heard of Neteyam going to battle... Did he say good bye to you?”

You lowered your gaze and shook your head.

“Where do you think he was last night before he went to battle?” she asked, her voice dripping with mock pity. “He was with me... getting his strength from me.” She stepped closer to you to tilt your head up. “He apologized to me, weaver. For losing sight of what’s truly for him... which is me. He loves me, which I’m sure you know... And he did make me feel loved... see?”

She tilted her head back, exposing the dark hickeys on the side of her neck. To your untrained eyes, it simply looked like bruises, but you knew what you were talking about. Pain bloomed in your chest and you felt ashamed for feeling it. You’re not supposed to feel it. You knew where this is leading to, you knew it was all an act. This woman in front of you was the only reason he approached you.

Ka’ani giggled. “Neteyam was insatiable. He missed me, as you can see... and now, I’m still sore, honestly,” she sighed, looking at you with that mock pity again. “Do you get it? He’s back with me... After he strayed. I hope you can respect that?”

You blinked, your lungs feeling as though they had turned to stone. You didn't realize you were holding your breath until she turned and walked away, and you felt like you might collapse, but the sound of Spider’s familiar voice cut through the silence. He came running toward you, laughing, with Tuk trailing just behind him.

“Was that Ka’ani?” Spider asked, his smile faltering. “What did you two talk about?”

You forced yourself to blink, the world slowly coming back into focus. “Uh... nothing. What are you two doing?”

“Playing tag!” Tuk squealed, slamming into your waist and hugging you tight. You automatically reached down to ruffle her braids. “Tag! You’re it!” she shouted, tapping your belly with a giggle before darting away.

Your soul wanted nothing more than to crawl into a dark corner and let the tears fall, but looking at Tuk’s bright face and Spider’s expectant grin, you couldn't bear to be the killjoy.

“Oh, you’re going to get it now!” you called out, forcing a smile as you chase after them.

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Neteyam had done the impossible. He had returned not just with his warriors intact, but with the promise of a unified forest. The first pace of the Great Council’s efforts to help the displaced clan find a dwelling land, he had secured a future for the displaced and for that, he was their hero.

The clan had a small celebration for it, but as the smell of roasted meat filled the air, Neteyam’s eyes were only on the winding path toward your family’s hut. He hadn't seen you in the crowd. He hadn't seen you at the landing where he expected you would be. Waiting for him. Kiri did tell him you were sick, though, which had sent a cold spike of dread that halted his celebratory high.

He didn't wait for his father’s final toast before slipping away, feeling a worry he didn't even feel during his mission. He arrived at your family’s hut, breathless, practically vibrating with the need to pull you into his arms and tell you that he had thought of nothing but your face as he sat among the displaced.

When you emerged from the flap, he froze. You were pale and your eyes were swollen and bloodshot, the telltale signs of the days you spent in quiet agony. His brows furrowed, his feet moving before he could even think. He stopped when he saw you step back though.

“I... I’m sick,” you said when you saw the question in his eyes. You didn't look at him with the warmth he’d been dreaming of. You looked at him as if he were a threat.

He stepped toward the platform, his hand reaching out instinctively. “I know. Kiri told me. But what made you sick? Why are you crying?" His voice was thick with a worry so raw it made your chest ache. “I haven't even been gone for a week, and this is what I return to?”

You stepped back into the shadows of the hut, a sharp scowl flickering across your face. “I... I don't know why I got sick. But I do know I want to lay down and rest. So if there's nothing else, I’ll go do it.”

Before he could utter another word, you grabbed the woven flap and slammed it shut. Neteyam stood there in the silence, staring at the closed entrance. His brows furrowed, his head tilting in genuine, painful confusion. He had expected a hug, a laugh, perhaps even a repeat of that soul-searing kiss in the forest. Instead, he had been shut out like a stranger. The victory he had carried on his shoulders suddenly felt hollow. For this, he didn't return to the celebration at all. He walked back to the his family’s hut in a daze, laying awake for hours wondering what could have poisoned the air in his absence.

The next day was filled with council meetings. He sat through hours of strategy and relocation discussions, but his mind was in the looms which he would check every time there's a chance, ready to scold you for working while ill, but your spot was empty. It wasn't until the following morning that he found you. You were sitting at your spot, your movements stiff and mechanical. And it seemed like you were waiting, too, because you looked at him the moment he stepped into the looms.

“Let’s talk,” he said, his voice firm, trying to reclaim some shred of authority to hide how much his heart was racing.

You stood up, your face impassive. “We do need to talk.” you said, your voice cold and sharp.

He stopped in his tracks, staring at you for more than a minute. For the first time in his life, after facing predators, raids, and the weight of a legacy, Neteyam felt a genuine, cold prickle of fear. But as he looked at the fire in your eyes, a small, reckless part of him couldn't help but admire it. He feels crazy. You are so hot when you’re mad.

You walked into the forest, feeling even more slighted when you remembered him going in this same route with Ka’ani. You felt his hand on your elbow though, steering you toward a different path instead. You glared at him. “Where are we going?”

The sight of direhorses answered your question though. You saw some warriors riding their mounts and Neteyam whistled for his. You saw Ka’ani among the warriors nearby and saw how her eyes narrowed at the sight of you and Neteyam. Shame rose in you and you tried to wriggle away from Neteyam’s hold, especially when a warrior came jogging toward you.

“Brother, will you not watch the young tame their mounts?“ The warrior asked. “They’ll be here in five minutes.”

The warrior glanced at you and you took your elbow from Neteyam again, but you weren’t able to get away though, because his hand found your waist and pulled you to him.

“No. I got something more important to do,“ Neteyam said. “I’m sure they’ll do well.”

The warrior snickered, “Enjoy then,” he glanced at you meaningfully before nodding to Neteyam, and turning away.

Neteyam’s hand spanned your waist and lifted you up on his direhorse in under ten seconds, making you slightly shriek. He mounted the beast behind you, making tsaheylu with it before wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you against him. You tried to move away, but the direhorse had started moving, and in a second, it was running.

The wind roared  past your ears as the direhorse ate up the miles, forcing you to lean back against Neteyam’s chest just to stay balanced. You enjoyed the sight during the ride, fighting the urge to move your head away when you felt him pressung a kiss to the crown of your head. You felt sad when he pulled on the reins, already missing the exhilaration of riding and the good view.

Neteyam slid off the mount first before reaching up to lift you down, his movements fluid and sure. He didn't let go immediately, his hands lingered on your waist as he looked around the clearing. He felt a surge of triumph that you hadn't jumped off and bolted, though he felt a twinge of guilt, too, because he’d brought you this far specifically so you couldn't run away.

The glade was breathtaking and it immediately snagged your attention. Under any other circumstances, you would have danced through the high grass, but the weight in your chest kept your feet heavy.

Neteyam turned to you, the light dabbing across his face. “Alright," he whispered, his jaw tightening. “Tell me. What has changed since I left?”

You scowled, the image of Ka’ani’s smug face flashing in your mind. “Are you sure things didn’t change before you left? I’m pretty sure you made up with Ka’ani, and did more than just talking.”

The accusation hit him like a physical blow that his eyes widened, his head snapping back in shock. “I did not ‘make up’ with Ka’ani. Yes, I talked to her, but I simply told her to back off. I told her never to approach you again. Did she talk of nonsense to you again?” He was practically vibrating, his tail lashing behind him.

“Yes, she did! We talked,” you threw back at him. “She showed me the hickeys on her neck, Neteyam! She said she was so sore... because you were insatiable! Because you missed her so much that you had to get your 'strength' from her before you left!”

“What?” The word was a rasp of horror. A visceral disgust washed over his features, his body shivering at the image your words painted. “I did not lay with her. I never did and I never would. Oh, Great Mother... that woman is a huge liar!”

You searched his face. You looked for a flicker of guilt or lie, a shift in his eyes, but all you saw was a man who looked genuinely nauseated by the very idea. You believe him, despite yourself and without your consent, the suffocating clouds over your head began to lighten. He stepped toward you, his hands reaching for your arms, but you crossed them over your chest, refusing to let him in just yet.

“Believe me, please,” he pleaded, his words beginning to tumble over each other in a frantic rush. “That night after we were in the forest, all I did was find her and shut down her delusions. I was so mad that she dared to talk to you, dared to get mad at you, so I told her to back off and never approach you again. I was coming back to you, baby. I was going to tell you our ruse ends there and then. I was going to beg you for a chance to make it real.”

He palmed his face , sounding completely undone.

“But then the incident with our warriors happened and I had to go... Jesus. I was so stupid. I should have gone to you before I left, but I was thinking... I was thinking I probably wouldn't be able to leave at all if you told me you’d give me a chance.”

His heart was beating too fast and to hard against his chest, watching the fire in your eyes finally die out, replaced by a soft heat. You believed him. It wasn't in your nature to stay angry when the truth felt so solid, and you knew Neteyam well enough now to know he would never play around. The fact that Ka’ani had looked so bitter earlier suddenly made sense. She hadn't won anything, she had just tried to burn down your bridge.

You bit your lip, your shoulders finally dropping. “Alright...” you whispered.

Neteyam didn't hesitate. He stepped into your space, gently wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into the solid warmth of his chest. “That’s it? ‘Alright’?” he asked, his voice soft and breathless, his face so close yours.

You pushed your lips forward in a small pout, though you didn't pull away. “I guess I believe you... I don’t think it’s in your character to lie like that.”

A wave of shame washed over you as you realized how quickly you had let Ka’ani’s poison work. You had given him so little confidence, believing a lie over the man you know to be so genuine and kind. But then, you had been protecting yourself; you were in an act, and the lines had been so blurred you didn't know where it all ended.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured “I just... I thought it was still an act. That we were still acting to get her back...”

Neteyam tightened his grip, lowering his head to bury his face in the crook of your neck. “I’ve long forgotten about the deal. I think I stopped truly caring about it just a week after I started spending my days with you. I just didn't know what it was I was feeling until the thought of it ending and not being with you anymore felt more terrifying than any battle.” He pulled back just enough to look at you, his thumb caressing your cheek. “This is why you’ve been crying...”

You pushed your lips forward. You wanted to forget that part! “Let’s just forget it...”

“No, we won’t. You don’t know how much it broke me to see you cry, to see you so gray, and not know why. She hurt you, she meant to hurt you,” he said, his voice hard and his jaw tightening. “And I played a part in it. I should have talked to you, clear everything for us so you would have confidence in me. So you won’t believe her.”

You looked up at him, your hand pressing against his chest to calm him down. “It’s over and done with, Neteyam... What’s important is that we’te okay now. Right?”

He looked down at you, his head tilting. Ka’ani was lucky that you are so kind, but she wasn’t that lucky because he’s not. He leaned down to kiss you, “Right. There will be no more acts and games... Just us.”

You looked up at him, the weight finally gone, and for the first time in days, the light returned to your golden eyes. “Just us.” you beamed at him.

He sucked in a breath, pulling you and tilting your head to kiss you hard. He was a man starved and you could tell with how he's holding and kissing you. He moaned when your tongue licked his lower lip, making him pull his head back to look at you.

“It’s you I missed so much...” he mumbled, kissing you softly. “It’s you I’d be insatiable for... And you I’ll make so sore—”

“Neteyam!” your hand lifted up to clamp around his mouth and he laughed. You shrieked when you felt his warm and wet tongue lick at your palm.

“I know... I’ll court you... Then you'll accept me as your mate... And then you’re in big trouble wth me—”

You groaned, your cheeks burning purple. He kissed your cheek before angling his head to kiss you for real.

The next afternoon, the Sully siblings were in on the plan—though only Kiri truly understood the gravity of it. They had dragged you down to the river, telling you they’ll teach you how to properly splash a person without getting soaked yourself.

“Focus! You have to cup your hand like this,” Spider shouted, sending a wall of water toward a ducking Lo’ak.

You laughed, the sound genuine and bright, completely unaware that Neteyam had quietly slipped away. He had seen Ka’ani heading toward the upper trails, and he wasn't about to let another sun set without finishing this. He intercepted her near the high roots, his silhouette blocking her path. Ka’ani stopped, her smirk faltering when she saw the look on his face. He didn’t look friendly at all, not that he had look friendly the last time they talked, but the hard storm masking his face right now was the look of a man who had seen a threatening the peace.

“Neteyam,” she started, trying to reclaim her cool composure. “I thought you'd be busy with your little weaver.“

“I am busy,” Neteyam said. “I am busy realizing how wrong I was about you. I thought you were a warrior of honor, Ka’ani. I thought that even if you were proud, you were noble. But to purposely hurt a woman who did you nothing wrong? To lie about the most disgusting things just to see her cry—”

Ka’ani’s eyes narrowed, her tail lashing. “I know what I’m doing, Neteyam! You were only using her to straighten me up! I just leveled the playing field. I was reclaiming what was mine—”

“I was never yours,” he cut her off, disgust for her delusions crumpling his face. “There was nothing to reclaim, you had nothing. The life you are living is the one you actively chose. Even if we had tried before, I know I would have quickly realized it would never work, what with our lack of connection. The only thing we shared was the training grounds.”

Ka’ani winced as if he’d struck her. “I... I was just blinded, Neteyam. I was jealous! I was envious. I’m sorry, alright? I was just trying to get you back.”

Neteyam let out a sharp huff. “I wasn’t yours to get back, we had nothing to do with each other. And you’re not really sorry. At least not yet, because you didn't think of taking your words back during the days I wasn't home. You knew she was crying. You knew she was hurting from your lies, and you sat back and enjoyed it. You are only sorry now because I am standing here confronting you.”

Ka’ani opened her mouth to argue, her hands trembling, but no words came out. The truth of his gaze was too heavy to deflect.

“I hope you grow,” Neteyam said, turning on his heel.

“Neteyam, wait!” she called out, sounding frantic as he turned to walk away. “I’m sorry! I’ll go to her right now. I’ll apologize to her! Please... can we still be friends? We’ve known each other our whole lives.”

Neteyam stopped, but he didn't turn around. He looked over his shoulder, his profile sharp against the sunlight filtering through the leaves.

“We were never friends, Ka’ani. You don't see me as a friend. You see me as a prize to be won.” He took a breath, thinking of your laugh echoing by the river. “Friends don’t hurt the people you love. And that is exactly what you did to the woman I love. After that, I don’t think your wish can be possible.”

He left her standing there, the weight of her own choices finally settling on her shoulders. When he returned to the river, he saw you. You were dripping wet, laughing as Tuk tried to climb onto your back.You looked up and caught his eye, beaming at him with a warmth that made his heart feel like it was soaring home.

He didn't say a word about Ka’ani. He just waded into the water, pulled you into a lopsided embrace, and whispered into your ear, “I think it’s time I started that courting I mentioned. Properly.”

And just like that, the moons had drifted by like dust in the wind, and Neteyam had kept his word. He courted you openly and even formally asked your parents for your hand, which they initially did not want to grant him. They think your life wouldn’t be as peaceful if you mated Neteyam instead of a simple man in the clan. Honestly, your parents didn’t know what to do with him. Neteyam was so intense in his courtship to you and your family that, most times, your parents were literally hiding from him. By then, he had already brought your family the finest meat and the rarest fruits, but surprise of your parents’ lives probably came when he brought Jake and Neytiri. He wasn’t really planning to bring them along, it was just... Neytiri is apparently getting impatient over the fact that Neteyam isn’t an official suitor yet, and Jake wanted to relieve your parents of their worries over you being Neteyam’s mate.

And today, the celebration for the new village of the displaced clan felt like the culmination of everything you and Neteyam had built. It seemed so long ago when you two discussed the matter when you were swimming in the river, and now, the clan found a home by the river. The Olo’eyktan of the displaced clan stood before the grand fire. You’d met him only today, but you could already tell the respect he has for Neteyam.

“For too long, we were ghosts in this forest,” the Olo’eyktan started. “We lived like beggars, raiding for sustenance, hurting our brothers and sisters among your clans, and also fearing their spears, but a path was cleared where we saw only hopelessness. Our homes are standing here today because of Neteyam te Suli, our brother of the Omatikaya. Because of him, we have peace. Our children will know only the beauty of the forest and never the tragedy that forced us out of our lands.”

You grinned as the crowd erupted, but Neteyam tried to sink into his seat, his ears pressing back in embarrassment as his arm pulled you to him. He hated the attention, but the chieftains wouldn't have it. They pushed him to the center, where he was forced to give a piece of his mind.

He cleared his throat, his golden eyes immediately finding yours in the crowd as if to ground himself. “The peace you see today was not born in my mind,” he began, his voice steadying as he looked at you. “I am a warrior, I was ready to lead with my bow. But it was my woman who showed me the wisdom in a hand offered instead of an arrow. She gave me the strength to listen when I wanted to fight. If this land is a home today, it is because her heart guided my way.”

Neytiri turned to you and smiled as the men in the crowd roared to tease the warrior they’ve been acquainted with in the past moons. As he strode back to you, pulling you into a deep kiss of victory, a warrior from a different clan hooted from the side. “Careful, Neteyam! Keep your wits about you and don’t let her hit her head, or she might wake up and realize she could leave your ass behind!”

Neteyam let out a deep, resonant laugh, pulling you flush against his side. “I have no intention of ever letting her get far enough to find out!”

As the party reached its high, Neteyam’s eyes found yours, looking at you meaningfully, in a way that made your skin tingle. You raised a brow and he jerked his head toward the dark woods. You pushed your lips forward in a playful pout but tugged his hand anyway, leading him away from the noise and into the glowing embrace of the forest.

You skipped hand in hand, admiring the bioluminescent flora lighting your path and when you reached the secluded bend of the river, the sounds of the festival was nothing but a hum. You turned to him with a grin and, without a word, untied the ties of your beaded top. His hungry eyes followed the movement, his breath hitching as if he has not seen them for a hundred times already. You untied your loincloth next, letting it pool on the floor.

He watched you with an intensity that excited you, and when his own loincloth fell, you bit your lip, seeing of the hard-on you had become quite well-acquainted with over the past moons. The glow of the river and the forest illuminated his handsome face so perfectly your heart hammered against your chest. He is so handsome.

“Hi,” he whispered, his large arms on your waist pulling you close.

Your smile grew to a grin. “You’re silly,” you chuckled, pressing a palm against his muscled chest to gently push him back. “I’m going to swim... why are you holding me?”

Neteyam’s eyes narrowed playfully, a boyish grin spreading across his face as he leaned in, his nose brushing yours. “Oh, I think there are other things that need swimming, too,” he teased, his voice dropping as his hand caught yours, bringing it down so you could feel his hardened cock. “Your babies want to swim in you.”

“Neteyam!“ you called, almost swiveling your head around in case someone could hear him. You’ve learned, in the past moons, how lewd he can be with his words but your habit of looking around will probably stay for a few years more.

He angled his head to press a hard kiss against your lips. “What? Don’t you want our kids to have fun time?”

You laughed, the sound like bells in his ears. You threw your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug. “Am I in big trouble again?” you whispered against his ear.

He groaned. “You’re always going to be in big trouble with me if I had my way.”

You smirked, tilting your head. “I want to take care of you tonight...” you mumbled, your hand on his chest caressing his skin and pushing him back.

He raised a brow, always surprised still whenever you show him fire. You pulled him down to kiss him, your lips crashing into his with a hunger that made him vibrate in excitement. He let you push him back against the trunk of a towering tree, letting out a gravelly groan when his head thumped back against the bark.

His hands gripped your waist, pulling you so flush against him that the ridge of his hard-on felt like it was imprinting itself on your belly. With practiced ease, he reached behind himself to bring his queue forward, while his other hand found yours behind you, making you break the kiss for just a second, watching through hooded eyes as the pink tendrils of your kurus began to reach and weave together.

The familiar psychic  jolt of his intense love, raw devotion and desire for you flooded your mind, feeling his heart hammering against your ears, echoing the rhythm of your own. His fingers cupped your jaw to kiss you again, ad you smiled against his lips, pressing a lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth before trailing your lips down. You licked and kiss his neck, your palms staying flat on his chest, feeling the heavy thud of his heart as you kissed your way down over the hard ridges of his stomach.

“My warrior...” you murmured, kissing his lower abdomen.

You peered up at him, seeing his head pressed against the tree, but his eyes were looking down at you. You kissed sharp V-line of his hips before your hand reached out, fisting his girth. Neteyam’s breath hitched, a strangled sound escaping his throat as your hand began to move. The bond between your queues flared, sending waves of his pleasure crashing through the both of you.

“You are celebrated tonight,” you whispered, looking up at him with your innocent doe eyes that contrasted the sinful movement of your hands on him. “I think you deserve a reward, don't you?”

“Baby...” he rasped, his hands fisting as he tried to ground himself.

You didn't give him a chance to respond. You lowered your head, taking him into your mouth with a heat that made his entire body shudder. Through the bond, you felt the exact moment he weakened. His hands flew to your long braids as your mouth started sucking around his girth, your tongue playing with its underside, getting another sharp intake of his breath. You drew back slightly, then plunged deeper, taking more of him down your throat. You worked your mouth, your lips sealing around him that made him tremble. His fingers tightened in your braids in a gentle tug, guiding your movements, urging you faster.

Your tongue swirled, licked, teased, tracing the veins along his length. You felt him grow even harder in your mouth. You pulled back, then swallowed him again, your breath hitching as you felt the wide head deep inside your throat. His hips began to thrust, his hand on your jaw, meeting your eager mouth until you tasted him, the musky scent of his arousal filling your nostrils. Your throat ached, but the pleasure in his groans kept you moving.

“Oh, baby,” he gasped, his body trembling.

His hips bucked, a deep growl rumbling from his chest. You felt the first warm gush of him erupt into your mouth, hot and thick, and you swallowed as his body convulsed, still pouring into you. He groaned deeply, a powerful sound that made you shiver, his fingers digging into your hair as he emptied himself.

He slumped, his breathing ragged. “Enough, my love,” he whispered, his voice hoarse, trying to pull your head up.

But you weren’t finished. You wanted to clean him, to savor every last drop. You ignored his pleas, your tongue flicking out, licking away the remnants of his pleasure, tracing the underside of his shaft. You heard his sharp intake of breath, his abdominal muscles tensing again. He was literally fighting to hold onto his strength, and you felt his cock twitch, hardening slightly at your continued ministrations. You ran your tongue along the tip, then sucked gently, drawing out the last of his cum.

“Fuck. I regret teaching you, you know?” he said weakly, his knees buckling.

You glared at him before reluctantly releasing him, your lips glistening. He reached down, pulling you up with a sudden, fierce strength that lifted until your bodies collided. His mouth found yours in a hard, demanding kiss, his tongue plunged into your mouth, mirroring the thrusts of his shaft earlier, tangling with yours. You met him with equal fervor, your arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him closer still, your hips instinctively grinding against his.

He broke the kiss, his lips trailing down your jaw and your throat in a fiery path. He lifted you, cradling you in his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist before he lowered you gently against the soft moss. He knelt above you, his golden eyes devouring your body like a man starved. His hand traced the curve of your waist, then upward, toward your breasts. His fingers brushed against your nipple and you arched your back, a soft moan escaping your lips. He leaned down, his mouth closing over one of the pebbled tips, sucking hard. You gasped and shivered, your fingers tangling in his braids, pressing him closer. His tongue swirled around your breast, while his other hand kneaded the other, his thumb circling the aroused tip.

“What a great reward,” he groaned, his voice muffled against your flesh. He suckled hard that it made you arch your back both in ache and pleasure. He moved to the other breast, giving it the same intense attention until you cried out, your body writhing for more.

He pulled away, his eyes hot with a familiar predatory hunger in them. He shifted, kneeling between your legs, which had instinctively parted for him. He leaned down, his mouth moving lower. You moaned, knowing what was coming, your hips lifting in anticipation. His tongue flicked out, tracing the velvety folds of your pussy, already wet with anticipation,

He spread your lips, his tongue plunging directly into your clit, making you arch your back, your fingers scratching at his back. He licked, sucked, and torment, his mouth relentlessly sucking and his tongue playing more than it licks. He used his fingers, too, parting your lips to allowing his tongue full access on you. He tasted you, the salty-sweet essence, a taste that always drove him wild.

“So sweet,” he murmured against your folds his voice a low growl, his tongue flicking faster, harder.

Your breath came in ragged gasps, your legs trembling, wrapping around his head, pressing him deeper into your pussy. You felt the suction of his mouth and the relentless assault of his tongue on your clit, and your orgasm coiled in your belly. You whimpered, unable to form words, only sounds of pure pleasure, your hips bucking as your body shivered with release, leaving you gasping. You felt the soft shudders of your pussy, contracting around his tongue.

He pulled away, moving above you, his hard cock pressing against your folds. You whimpered, still quivering from your orgasm that your pussy was still throbbing and incredibly sensitive. He still pushed though, the head of his cock sliding inside. You moaned and he pushed deeper, stretching you, and filling you completely.

You wrapped your arms around his body that hovered above yours, his eyes locked with yours. He began to move, a slow thrust, then another, pulling almost completely out before plunging back in deep and hard. The sounds of him sliding in and out of your wetness filled the air, mingling with your gasps and his grunts. You wrapped your legs tighter around his waist, urging him deeper and faster.

He gripped your waist, his fingers digging into your flesh, lifting you slightly to control the angle, to thrust even deeper. “Harder,” you pleaded, your voice hoarse, your hips bucking to meet his.

He responded instantly, his thrusts becoming a furious assault. He pounded into you, deep and relentless, filling you with every thrust. You felt yourself tightening around him, your muscles clenching. Your breath hitched, your vision blurring. You cried out his name, again and again, as your body convulsed, leaving you gasping, clinging to him.

He groaned, his body trembling above you as he thrusted a few more times, deep, desperate strokes. His body tensed, his seed erupting inside you, hot and thick, filling your womb with your babies that needed swimming. He collapsed onto you, heaving, his breath ragged against your neck. You lay there, your entwined bodies both slick with sweat and release.

He let out a long, shaky exhale, his tail giving one final, exhausted twitch against your leg. With a groan that sounded sated and delirious, he pulled out of you, watching the gush of his heavy and thick cum dripping out of you. “You emptied me,” he mumbled, his voice thick.

You chuckled, breathless. “Complaining, are we? You’re the one who started talking about ‘swimmers’ in the middle of our conversation,” you smirked.

Neteyam let out a dry, boyish laugh, propping himself up on one elbow. He looked down at your stomach, then back at your face, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I believe in my warriors. They’re fast.”

You groaned, reaching up to swat his chest, but he caught your hand, bringing it to his lips to kiss your knuckles. “Neteyam, if my mother sees me walking back looking like this, I’m going to receive a scolding.”

“Tell her you are a mated woman,” he suggested shamelessly, pulling you closer until your head was resting on his chest.

“Neteyam... They don’t know that yet. We are following the traditions!” you whisper-shouted playfully. “Beside, what happened to being modest for my parents?” you narrowed your eyes at him.

He laughed, a genuine, chest-shaking sound that made you feel warm all over again. He rolled to his side, his hand grabbing your waist with a renewed look of heat in his eyes that made you groan. You sat up and his head angled to catch the pebbled tip of your breast into his mouth.

“‘Teyam...” your hand clutched at his shoulder.

“Just one more...” he said, his words muffled because he had your flesh in his mouth.

You bit you lip and laid back on the soft moss, spreading your thighs as your hand caressed the soft skin on his back. You watched his large, formidable form hover over you, his thick and long cock already pointing at your pussy as if it knows its target. You shivered at the sight of it, your excitement vibrating in your body. His hand clasped under your knee and pushed your leg back, stretching you before his cock nudged your entrance.

His other hand moved over your pussy, his thumb rubbing your sensitive nub as his length disappeared in you. You moaned a long one, arching your back, offering your rounded breasts to him and he lowered his head to take one into his mouth, his tongue immediately swirling on your nipple. In a sudden, hard movement, his hand on your hips pulled you to him, burying himself to the hilt inside you.

“Ah!” you moaned, your thighs quivering to close around him but he kept them open, restraining both of them tightly befote delivering a series of hard and intense pounding.

You held onto him, your eyes flying open and meeting his. You probably looked so aroused and fucked, because his pupils blew even wider, almost swallowing the gold. Your mouth remained perpetually gaped, releasing jagged breaths and moans as he continued pumping into you. Your hand pressed against his lower abdomen and his thrusts quickened and hardened even more.

He lowered his head to kiss you, his tongue immediately plunging into your open mouth. You wrapped your arms around him, feeling his hard muscles contrasting his soft skin until all the sensations he’s giving you pushed you to the edge. He came first, shuddering above you despite his efforts to hold out longer. You hugged him tighter when you felt yourself erupt.

He kissed your neck softly, feeling your body shudder against him, you legs literally quivering as your walls clenched around him to milk him dry. He chuckled, pressing a hard kiss against your jaw. “I told you. Big trouble.”

You let your head fall on the mossy ground, feeling him lick the skin on your exposed neck. “I think I can handle the trouble,” you murmured. “As long as it’s yours.”

“Kiri,” Tasi whispered, leaning in closer. “Since you’re the sister. Is he always like that? And what about Lo'ak? Just the other day, he teased me about my braids and I know I ought to hate it, but he’s so cute I forgot to be annoyed!”

Kiri, who was lazily braiding a length of vine, gave a lopsided grin. “Lo’ak is… well, Lo’ak. He’s a total boy. He spends half his time trying to prove he’s a man and the other half being rowdy and disobedient. He doesn't know when to be quiet.“ She rolled her eyes.

You nodded in agreement while the girls giggled.

Yaremu pressed on, “And Neteyam?”

“Neteyam is alright,” Kiri said, shrugging. “He’s the eldest, after all, so he has a lot to do. He takes care of us when Mom and Dad are not around, and since he’s a hunter now, he’s mostly out.”

“He's so handsome,” Yaremu breathed, nudging you. “Don't you think so, too? He’s always in front of you when we study. Surely you’ve noticed how good he looks when the sun hits his shoulders?”

You paused your grinding, your brows already furrowed. You did not notice that at all. You felt the weight of their gaze, three pairs of eyes curiously waiting for what you have to say. “I notice that his grinding technique is sloppy,” you said, your voice flat. “And that he distracts the circle with their nonsense. If he is to be a leader, he should learn that a healing pavilion is a place of silence, not a stage for his friends to sneaker and fool around.”

The girls exchanged looks, suppressing smiles and rolling their eyes playfully. Tasi bumped her shoulder against yours. “You’re always too serious, sister! You can always study really hard and still have eyes in your head. Everyone should appreciate a beautiful hunter.”

A sudden, raucous burst of laughter was heard from outside the pavilion, making Yaremu and Tasi sit up straighter, going back to their works in an instant. It was a sound you knew very well and it always seemed to follow a particular group. Your cheeks burned, feeling like you’d been caught talking about him even though you were just answering questions! You sat properly, your jaw tightening a little as the voices grew louder, nearing the pavilion.

“Neteyam, you almost dropped it!” a voice boomed, followed by a chorus of snorts.

“I did not! It was Lo’ak, he bumped me!” Neteyam’s voice, already deepening, carried a playful defiance.

A small, knowing sigh escaped your lips. These interruptions are now a constant backdrop to your studies, and you hated it. They weren't even supposed to be here, especially Neteyam, who had just successfully passed his iknimaya and gone through his uniltaron, yet here they were, led by him, no less. You can’t even complain because even though they are rowdy, they are not only eager to learn, this is also beneficial to them as future warriors and hunters of the clan.

Neteyam himself proved to be an exceptional student in the art of healing, which you think is simply natural for him for he excels in everything anyway. He has earned so much praise from Mo’at’s assistant healers that they are now discussing a new initiative with the senior warriors: making first-aid training a requirement for every young warrior and hunter.

The bead curtain at the entrance of the pavilion clattered as the boys spilled inside. You saw Neteyam leading the way, his stride possessing a new, grounded grace since he became a full-fledged warrior of the clan following his iknimaya last season. Close behind were Lo’ak, who was busy trying to trip Atan, while Kipey struggled to carry a bundle of practice splints. Suddenly, the pavilion felt small and their boundless energy made you dizzy. The serene atmosphere you and the girls have earlier is now all but a thing of the past.

Healers Sayka and Jahi entered the pavilion not long after, and because you were looking at them, your eyes caught Neteyam’s and saw him already looking at you. You felt the fine hair on your nape standing up, a bizarre feeling that made you smoothly roll your eyes away, greeting the healers the same time they did.

“Find your places, quickly now,” called out Sayka, the senior assistant healer, as she walked down the aisle followed by Jahi. “The Great Mother does not wait for boys to finish their jests.”

The boys scrambled to sit. Naturally, Neteyam chose the spot directly across from you and your eyes met his again which you quickly averted by looking down on your pestle and mortar. He sat straighter and every time you reached for a new herb or adjusted your posture, you could feel his gaze, not heavy or lecherous, but steady nonetheless, as if he's focusing on a single star in the night sky to properly navigate in the air.

“We heard of the incident during the hunt three days ago,” Sayka began, her eyes landing on Neteyam. “One of the hunters took a horn to the thigh. Messy business,” all of you gasped. “Neteyam took care of the first aid. Didn’t you, Neteyam?”

Your eyes drifted to him and you saw him glanced at you before he turned to Sayka to silently nod at her.

“Tell the circle what the wound look like and what you did before the hunter was brought to the Tsahik.”

Neteyam shifted his focus to Sayka, though you felt the ghost of his attention still lingering on you. “It was a jagged gash,” he said, his voice grounded. “The horn had hooked the flesh, so it wasn't a clean line. There was a lot of blood...”

You watched for any fear or anxiety on his face, but there was none, only certainty and confidence that shouldn't belong on the face of a fourteen-year-old.

“And how did you respond?” Sayka pressed.

“I used a cloth tie as a tourniquet above the wound to slow the flow,” Neteyam explained. "Then I used river water to flush out the dirt. I didn't have any paste, so I just held a soft fortune leaf over it with steady pressure until we brought him to Tsahik.”

“Good. Simple and fast,” Sayka nodded and swept around with her gaze. “A jagged wound is not like a clean wound brought by the slice of a knife. If you have observed a clean slice, it most often closes on its own, but a jagged wound is an angry one. It stays open. Neteyam did well to flush it because with a jagged wound, the first thing to do is to clean it. Dirt hides in the flaps of the skin, so you must use cool, flowing water to wash away the debris. If anything is still inside, you leave it for the Tsahik, but if there’s none, you must clean it thoroughly.”

You nodded eagerly. You haven’t dealt with wounds like that before. Mostly, it was just scraped or small cuts. You wondered what a jagged wound actually looked like and debated whether to ask Neteyam for further details after the class is over. You took a thick and waxy dapophet leaf from the bundle Jahi was distributing. As the leaves were distributed, the quiet was immediately punctured by Lo’ak’s muffled snickering. He was leaning over to Kipey, whispering something about how Neteyam sounded like a “grumpy old grandmother” when he talked about bandages.

You felt a familiar spark of irritation, looking up to to fix the boys with a reprimanding glare, but your eyes didn't even make it to Lo’ak. They crashed into Neteyam’s instead and saw him already looking. The dappled sunlight filtered through the woven roof, casting golden patterns on him and for a moment, you understood what Yaremu was talking about. He is handsome, especially when bathed in sunlight.

You felt something in you flutter. Somewhere in your belly and it tickles. You parted your lips to let out an indignant huff, snapping your gaze away to fix it on Jahi when she spoke. The girls have instilled such ridiculous notions in your head and now, this is what happens!

“The leaves in your hands have a tough outer layer, but inside it is filled with fluid. Now, each of your leaves have a jagged cut you must stitch close,” Jahi explained and you smiled excitedly, looking down at your leaf and the stitching materials being distributed. “Remember not to pierce it too deeply or pull the edges too hard, because the juice might run out. This is similar to a wounded person, you wouldn’t want to pierce them too deeply or pull their skin too hard, would you? You must be mindful to the weight of your own hands.”

You concentrated on your work, carefully stitching the leaf back together. The girls are also silent, which is something you love about them, because nothing could take away their concentration from studying, not even the boy they’ve been mooning over minutes earlier. What annoys you, though, is that you are the one distracted. You could feel his constant glances on you and you decided you’re done with it.

You lifted your head to meet his eyes and you found him with his eyes already on you, as if waiting for the contact. It was infuriating. “Is there something wrong with my stitching, Neteyam?” you asked suddenly, your voice cutting through the silence.

The boys froze. Atan and Kipey exchanged wide-eyed looks.

Neteyam blinked, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. “No,” he murmured, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “You’re perfect. I mean, I mean your technique... It’s perfect. I was just looking to see... If I’m doing it right.”

Lo’ak cleared his throat and pretended to cover his face to cough, but his shoulders were shaking, and his face and neck darkened to purple. He was laughing. What’s so funny? You tilted your head and look at Neteyam’s leaf. He was doing it right. Your own face burned in embarrassment. Perhaps, he was truly just trying to look at yours to see if he’s doing his stitching right!

“I think yours is good. It looks like a clean stitch,” you said, returning to your leaf without waiting for a response.

“Thanks...“ he said, his voice still soft.

You heard the boys snicker and from your peripheral gaze, you can see them tease Neteyam with silent nudges. You looked at them and narrowed your eyes. The healers only left for a few moments and they are so rowdy again!

Neteyam, who had been grinning at something Lo’ak said, felt the weight of your gaze. You saw him turn, his golden eyes meeting yours, and his smile died instantly. The bravado drained out of his shoulders. He sat up straighter, his ears pinning back for a second before he composed himself into a mask of sudden, intense seriousness. Lo’ak started to let out another muffled laugh, but Neteyam’s elbow caught him sharply in the ribs.

“Shut up,” Neteyam whispered at his brother before clearing his throat and looking down at his own leaf with the intensity of a scholar.

The rowdiness of the boys died down into a strained, respectful silence, all because you had looked at Neteyam. Kiri turned to you with a knowing, almost mischievous glint in her golden eyes. You fixed her with a confused look and she shook her head, softly chuckling to herself.

                                                         ₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

You stood in a drawn circle at the training ground with your bowstring drawn back against your cheek. Tasi and Yareumu had already abandoned their targets, preferring to sit in the shade and braid flowers into each other's hair, giggling as they watched the young warriors spar in the ring. All four of you decided to train in archery just last season, but the two of them, including Kiri last week, already gave up on their trainings, citing its futility in the path they are choosing.

Two years had passed and the soft roundness of your childhood had now sharpened into lean, graceful lines of a young lady. At fourteen, the weight of the path you’re forging for yourself is no longer just a dream, but more and more like a shape forming true. You wanted to be of full service to the people, not just as a healer, but as a protector as well, even though you will not be Tsahik. So now, you’re planning to tame an ikran just like Kiri had the year before.

“It’s too much work for my arms,” Tasi sighed, waving a dismissive hand at her discarded bow. “Besides, why do I need to be an archer if I am to be a healer?“

“Because a healer must sometimes be the one to keep the patient alive before the wound is attended to,” you replied without looking back, releasing the arrow. It thudded into the center of the mossy target with a satisfying thwack.

“You are always so serious,” Yaremu teased. “Look, even the boys have stopped their sparring to watch you. Jeto looks like he’s forgotten how to breathe.”

You didn't spare them a glance. You think boys are stupid... Some of them have already wasted half an hour watching and hooting at your every move. The same bunch even tried to invent “accidents” in the past moons just so you would look at them. If Neteyam hadn’t scolded them, they would have continued distracting you in your trainings. Fortunately, they’ve stopped now... But the annoyance of their constant attention has not ceased.

Neteyam stood with Kiri far behind you, supposedly discussing your plan to go up the Hallelujah Mountains soon to tame an ikran for yourself, but he couldn’t help but watch you, his ears tuning out everything Kiri was saying.

You seemed so uncaring of the boys’ antics, your chin tilted high, your air always radiating that quiet, indifferent coldness that made you seem miles above the dirt of the training ground.

“She’s such a snob,” he heard one of the boys mutter behind a rack of spears.

“As if it’s your first time. Keep doing nonsense and she’ll keep ignoring you!” Another replied, followed by a chorus of laughter.

Neteyam’s eyes narrowed, a familiar surge of irritation rising in him. Of course. Other boys saw in you what he saw, but he couldn't pretend you were exclusively his to appreciate. Everyone admired you, from their parents to the children, the girls and the boys. And he couldn’t claim to be so different from them...

He had known for a long time exactly what you were to him.

“Neteyam? Are you even listening?” Kiri’s voice poked through his trance. She was leaning against a wooden rack, a knowing smirk playing on her lips as if she knows a secret he doesn’t. “I said the wind currents near the mountains are shifting. If she’s going up in three days, we need to leave earlier."

Neteyam cleared his throat, adjusting the strap of his knife sheath to hide his flustered state. “I heard you. The eastern peaks. I’ll make sure the gear is ready.”

He stepped forward, his shadow touching the edge of your circle. He didn't hover or said anything stupid like the other boys. He’s a boy of sixteen years now, much more matured than the boy he used to be, and somehow, you’ve separated him entirely from the others. You respect Neteyam. He is the future of the clan after all, the next in line to the Omatikaya leadership, and nothing about his presence demanded anything from you.

He waited for you to release your final arrow before he spoke. “Your draw is getting faster,” he noted, his voice an octave lower, and Kiri couldn’t help but snicker at her brother’s attempt to make his voice sound manlier in your ears.

“I have been practicing,” you said, lowering your bow, turning to face him. Your expression was the same mask of cool indifference you wore for everyone, but your eyes lingered on him a fraction longer than they did on the others and sometimes... When it lingered too long, you can feel your belly do the thing. The crazy thing.

He tilted his head and your eyes fluttered, not knowing what to track. Dappled sunlight was on him again and his braids were longer. It annoyed you to think that no boy in the clan is as handsome as him... And perhaps your friends are right. Eywa gave the people a vision to appreciate beauty.

“I can tell,” he said, his voice soft as though he wanted only you to hear what he's saying. “But you’re gripping the bow too tightly. Your hand will cramp and it won’t be good for our climb in two days.”

“I will adjust it,” you said, tearing your gaze off of him.

“You should,” he replied, stepping a bit closer, effectively blocking the view of the snickering boys behind him. “If you’re going to tame an ikran, you can't afford a cramped hand.”

You nodded once, adjusting your hand on the bow. Neteyam watched you adjust your grip, his eyes tracing the line of your knuckles until they softened. He felt a fierce, silent satisfaction in the way his body acted as a shield between you and the persistent stares of the other boys. He knew he shouldn’t feel that way about his possessiveness... The first thing an eldest brother like him ever learned was to share... And yet.

Two days later, you found yourself climbing what seemed like a never-ending vine path upwards. You see nothing below you but mist and hear not but the splash of a distant waterfalls and heavy breathing from the three of you. From his position just behind you on the vine paths, Neteyam found it difficult to focus on the climb.

His eyes were constantly drawn upward to the way you moved. You climbed with a desperate kind of grace, your fingers gripping the ancient roots with a strength that made his chest ache. He saw the sweat beads glistening on your temple and the way your jaw remained set in that stubborn resolve.

Every time you reached a treacherous gap, he felt his own breath hitch. He wanted to reach out, to catch you or guide you, but he knew better. He knew you wouldn’t like being treated more than a casual peer, so he was careful with everything he did, determined not to be shut out like the other boys.

When you all finally reached the summit, he handed you a waterskin and a woven cloth to wipe your sweat with before he even thought of his own thirst and sweat. Though you had your own supplies, you accepted them, only realizing later as you drank the cool water that he’d given you his. He was already focused on watching the ikran, calmly assessing them without bothering to wipe his sweat.

“Hoo! That was one hell of a climb,” Kiri said, drinking from her skin. “You ready?”

You nodded, untying your own waterskin and stepping closer to Neteyam to hand it to him. “You gave me yours,” you said, your eyes sharp and reprimanding, assuming he was too tired to remember you had your own. He accepted it, but you pulled back and opened the lid for him. As your attention shifted to the shrieking, flapping ikran, you missed the way his eyes flared with surprise and intense attraction. Kiri saw it, though, and chuckled to herself. You turned to Neteyam again.

Before he could even get another sip, you huffed, your eyes eyeing the beads of sweat rolling down his temple that was, frankly, getting on your nerves. You grabbed your own woven cloth, your hand wrapping around his forearm. “Hold still,” you muttered, stepping into his personal space.

You didn't dab at him gently. Instead, you used firm strokes, wiping his forehead and the bridge of his nose. Your brow furrowed in a small scowl as you moved to his neck. He was standing perfectly still, his breath hitching as he looked down at you. He didn't care that you were practically buffing his skin raw, because to him, the rough friction felt like a brand. He wasn’t asking for reward, but don’t mind if he greedily enjoys this. He leaned into it a fraction, his chest rising and falling in a heavy rhythm that had nothing to do with the climb you all had just finished.

“There,” you said, finally satisfied. You shoved the cloth into his hand and his fingers touched yours. “Now drink. We don't have all day.”

You turned back to the ikran, missing the dazed, lopsided grin he directed at the back of your head. Kiri, standing a few feet away, just shook her head and gagged quietly. Could there be a worse nightmare for a 15-year-old girl than watching a romance unfold between her older brother and her best friend?

“I’m ready now,” you spoke, doing small jumps on the balls of your feet.

“Good luck,” Neteyam said in a hoarse voice, staying back with Kiri.

His heart hammered against his ribs like an forest ikran trapped in a vine as he watched you step onto the rocky arena, a lone figure among the beasts.

“Choose her,” he whispered under his breath, his fingernails digging into his palms. “See her as I see her.”

He watched a forest-green ikran lunge at you, its beak snapping with lethal intent. Most would have flinched, but you didn't. Neteyam’s breath caught in his throat, he practically stopped breathing as he watched you circle the beast, a blur of blue and shadow, as you dodge each of the beast’s attempt to strike.

When you finally leaped, clambering onto the beast’s neck and wrestling it toward the precipice, Neteyam took an involuntary step forward. His stomach dropping as he watched you both tumble over the edge, a chaotic mess of wings and limbs disappearing into the white abyss of the clouds. Your name tore at his throat, a shout full of fear. He was reminded of the many Omatikaya who died trying the same thing, and for a moment he felt his heart stop beating.

Silence stretched for eternity, both he and Kiri couldn’t talk, and then, a piercing shriek broke through the mist. Neteyam’s heart soared as you flew in the air, banked in a sharp, elegant curve. A lopsided grin broke through his mouth. You are now a rider. The way you sat atop the beast, your braids streaming behind you, and your face etched with a look of pure, wild triumph, was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

He didn't waste a second. He whistled for his own ikran that was flying aimlessly around the mountains. He mounted in one fluid motion and pushed his mount hard, diving into the sky to join you. As he pulled up alongside you, the wind roaring in his ears, he saw you look over.

The cold indifference was gone, burned away by the adrenaline of the bond. You laughed, a sound he had heard so rarely it felt like a gift, and for a second, his golden eyes locked onto yours.

I see you. I see you. I see you.

                                                         ₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

You gripped the pestle as you grinded the dried roots on the mortar. This is one those days when your friends are not with you, leaving you alone in the quiet of the Tsahik’s tent. You’re not quite sure which version you enjoy better, and you were just deciding that you actually like the peace and quiet when the flap burst open. Kiri stumbled in, her hair a mess and her expression frantic. In her arms, a very energetic and chunky Tuk was squirming, trying to catch a glowing fly.

“Oh, thank the Great Mother, you’re here,” she gasped, nearly dumping Tuk onto your worktable. “Grandmother just sent word. She wanted me to assist her in sister Tayke’s birth, apparently it’s complicated. Mom and Dad won't be back until eclipse. I have to go.”

You looked up from the tray of dapophet leaves you were sorting, blinking in surprise. "Kiri, I have three tinctures to finish before—”

“Please!” Kiri pleaded. “Neteyam is on patrol, Lo’ak is busy training the young ones, and Tuk is… Well, I can’t bring her with me. You’re the only one I trust not to let her eat a poisonous berry or wander off and fall to her death.”

You looked down at Tuk, who was now pulling at your medicine pouch with a wide, toothy grin. You felt warmth in your chest and your eyes soften, Kiri knew you were sold. “Fine,” you sighed, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“You’re a life-saver! Literally!” Kiri shouted over her shoulder as she vanished back out of the tent.

For the first hour, it was chaos. Tuk treated the healing tent like a playground, toddling around and stacking your mortar bowls into towers and trying to “heal” her woven doll with the rarest medicinal pastes. But as the sun began to dip, her energy flickered out. The excitement turned into a sudden realization that she was tired and her mother wasn't there. Her small lips began to tremble, then came the first sob.

“I want Mama,” she said in a small voice, sending a pang to your chest.

“Oh, Tuk-tuk, no, don't cry,” you murmured, quickly moving to her. You scooped her up, tucking her small, heavy body against your chest.

You began to pace the length of the tent, swaying slowly which you had seen the mothers do a thosuand times. You hummed a low melody that seemed to soothe the child. Slowly, the wails turned into soft hiccups, and then into the deep breathing of sleep. You stayed there, standing in the center of the tent, swaying gently and feeling a strange, quiet peace settle over you.

Until the silence was broken by the soft thuds of footsteps outside. Neteyam moved the flap open, his large frame nearly filling the entrance. He had a large, bundled wrap of fortune leaves, the ones you had mentioned needing a few days ago. He had gone straight from his shift to the high ridges just to find them for you.

He stopped mid-stride, his breath catching in his throat at the sight.

He had expected to find you hunched over your work, with your brow furrowed in concentration. This was the last thing he would have expected seeing. The low glow of the hanging firepot illuminated the side of your face and the soft curve of your arms as you cradled his sister. You looked radiant, your face devoid of the mask of cold indifference you wear like an armor. From his current view, you are something warm, something attainable, something his.

Neteyam felt a surge of heat in his chest that made his pulse thrum in his ears. He noticed, with a sudden and sharp clarity, how the last few years had finished their work on you. The slight softness of the girl he used to trail behind had vanished, replaced by the striking, lithe form of a woman. Your beauty, the confidence in the way you stood, and the depth in your gaze all felt like a challenge to everything he knew about your vows. He knew of your great aunt Äye, he knew the weight your family’s traditions. But seeing you there, swaying his sister to sleep, made his heart ache with a hunger that no amount of prayer could suppress.

You turned your head slowly, your eyes widening as you saw him. “Neteyam,” you breathed, your lips curving into a soft, genuine smile.

It didn't help with the delusions he was currently having.

For you, the sight of him was no less of a shock. You were no longer the twelve-year-old girl who was simply annoyed by a rowdy boy. Now, those “stupid” teenage flutters in your belly had evolved into something more. Looking at him now, you felt a creeping heat settle on your nape and spread down your spine.

He had grown so much. He was so much taller and broader, his skin mapped with faint scars, and his golden eyes carry a depth that made you feel exposed. You hated how handsome he had become and how his presence seemed to command the very air in the tent. You looked at the heavy muscles of his arms, then back to his face, and felt a wave of shame.

These are bad thoughts, you scolded yourself, even as your heart hammered a rhythm of betrayal against your ribs. Your skin was tingling and you were practically fighting not to hug Tuk against you harder in your attempt to quell it. A woman on your path should not hunger for the touch of a man! But as your eyes met his in the dimmed light, the ’path’ you had walked so carefully for years suddenly felt terrifyingly narrow.

“You're back,” you whispered. “Kiri said you were on patrol.”

“I was,” he managed to say. He didn't move to put the leaves down. He didn't want to break the tether of this moment. “I found what you needed. Kiri said you were planning to go and get them yourself. Don’t want you going to the ridges on your own.” His head tilted, a brow rising in challenge.

“I’m perfectly capable of navigating the ridge, you mighty warrior. Thank you very much,” you countered, though the bite in your voice was softened by the warmth in your eyes as you swayed Tuk. “I’ve had my ikran for years now. Or did you forget who beat you in that race to the mountains last moon?”

Neteyam let out a short, huffed laugh, finally moving into the tent. “I didn't forget. I merely allowed the lady a moment of glory. It’s called being a gentleman.”

“It’s called being slow,” you shot back, a genuine smirk breaking through your face.

He reached out then, his large hands moving toward the sleeping toddler in your arms. “Here, give her to me. You looked like you’ve stood here for an hour already, I’m sure your arms are ready to fall off.”

As he leaned in to take her, Tuk stirred. Instead of reaching for her brother, she let out a tiny, sleepy whimper and buried her face deeper into the crook of your neck, her small fingers clutching your necklace.

“Oh,” you both whispered at the same time.

“Aww,” you cooed softly, your heart vibrating in your chest, making you almost shiver.

Neteyam echoed the sound with a look of such raw tenderness crossing his face that you had to look away. He didn't pull back; instead, he leaned down and pressed a lingering, gentle kiss onto Tuk’s forehead. His face was inches from yours, the scent of mint and the heat of his skin registering to your senses. You felt like a puddle of candle wax. Soft, melting, and utterly ruined.

“I guess I’m stuck,” you whispered, your voice slightly breathless.

His eyes lifted to meet yours, flashing a smile that made your belly go crazy. “Then let me be of use,” he said, turning to your workbench. “Since your hands are full, tell me what to do. I’m at your command.” He raised a brow playfully.

You didn't hesitate. You needed your tasks done and if he wanted to stay, you’re done fighting the pull. For tonight. “Fine. Those fortune leaves you brought needed to be stripped and ground. Gently, Neteyam,“ you said in a stern voice.

“Oh, I know gentle,“ he quickly remarked, looking down at his leaves just as quick as if he didn’t want to see how you’ll react.

You felt your face heat up at his remark. It could be innocent, you know, but because your mind has thought of many bad things when it came to him, you can’t react properly anymore! Your eyes narrowed. “Just get to work. Don't use your warrior strength on them, or you’ll bruise it.”

He sat down, hunched over the mortar and pestle. The sight was so domestic and it felt dangerously right. You rubbed the soft skin on Tuk's back when she nestled to you. Neteyam looked up and you raised a brow. “How was the western perimeter?” you asked instead. "Kiri mentioned the trackers saw fresh signs of a palulukan near the falls."

Neteyam’s ears flicked. “They did. A big one, too,” he paused to wipe a stray bit of leaf from his thumb. “Apparently, it crossed their path the other day. They had to stay up in the trees for an hour just to let it pass.”

The conversation drifted into something comfortable and domestic. You asked about the next sturmbeest hunt, and he asked about the last herbs he’s given you that you turned into cooling salves. It was so easy, so natural, that you feel nothing but comfort and warmth.

“Is this enough?” he asked, holding up the mortar. The leaves had been transformed into a perfect, dark-green paste, the scent of crushed mint rising from the bowl.

“It’s perfect,” you said, stepping closer to inspect his work. “You’ve missed your calling, warrior. You’d make a fine assistant to Mo’at.”

“I think I’ll stick to my bow,” he teased, his voice dropping into that lower, private register. “Stirring pots is much more dangerous work. I might get ordered around too much.”

“You say that as if you don't enjoy it," you countered, meeting his eyes.

He wasn’t only enjoying it. He was happy. He was more than happy. Every time he glanced up and saw you cradling Tuk, a small child who share the same features he got from his mother, his mind went to places that felt both beautiful and forbidden. He dared to imagine a life where this wasn't a temporary favor for Kiri, but a permanent reality.

The teasing died away when you heard the horn for the evening meal echoed. You walked together toward the communal clearing, the weight of the sleeping child in your arms and Neteyam’s steady presence at your side giving you a sense of belonging that terrified you.

“Your parents aren’t back yet,” you noticed, glancing at the empty dais.

Tuk stirred in your arms, slowly waking up from her slumber. Her eyes drifted to Neteyam, dazed at first but when it registered that her older brother is in front of her, her eyes widened. “Neteyam!” her tiny voice a shrill.

You chuckled, handing her over when she wriggled in your arms, her own tiny arms reaching for Neteyam who readily accepted her with a huff. “Ow. So heavy,” Neteyam playfully said, blowing a kiss on Tuk’s chubby cheek before looking at you. “You carried this boulder for hours?” His free hand shot down to hold one of your arm, instantly massaging.

You chuckled, pinching Tuk’s cheek. “It's alright,” you said, noticing the inquisitive looks some people are giving the two of you. Your cheeks burned, quickly sitting down. Neteyam immediately followed, settling Tuk on his lap. He sat close, close enough that your thighs where brushing, and as the food was passed around, you naturally began to tear off small pieces of roasted fish to feed Tuk.

Across the fire, Lo’ak was huddled with Atan and Kipey. The three of them were barely eating, their heads bowed together as they whispered and pointed.

“Look at them,” Atan snickered, nudging Lo’ak. “If I didn't know better, I’d say the Tsahik’s seat was already filled.”

“Total parents,” Kipey whispered, grinning. “Neteyam looks like he’s ready for a family at nineteen.”

Lo’ak snorted, watching you reach over to wipe a smudge of juice from a stomping Tuk’s chin while Neteyam watched you with a look of such longing and admiration it was almost embarrassing to witness. “He’s gone,” Lo’ak muttered, shaking his head. “He’s been gone for years. He’s practically just waiting for her to melt up.”

“Nom nom!” Tuk said eagerly while a piece of the meat she was holding fell on your thigh.

Neteyam’s hand shot out to pick it up, quickly popping it into his mouth. You looked at him in disbelief. “That just fell,” you pointed out as you watched him chew.

“Not on the ground, but on your skin. That makes it a blessing,” he countered, his voice hummed with a playful vibration.

A blessing? You rolled your eyes away, focusing your attention on Tuk’s messy face to hide the flush creeping up your face. “You are disgusting,” you muttered, though there was no real heat in it.

“I’m efficient,” he corrected, leaning in closer so his shoulder brushed yours. “And hungry. Patrolling is exhausting work, especially when you’re looking for fortune leaves on the side.”

Tuk giggled, sensing the shift in energy, decided to pat Neteyam’s cheek with a sticky hand. “Neteyam silly!”

“See? Even the little one knows,” you teased, finally regaining your composure. You reached for a damp cloth to clean Tuk’s hand, but Neteyam beat you to it. His large fingers gently wrapped around his sister’s small wrist, wiping her palm with a tenderness that made your chest ache.

As you basked in the laughter of the people surrounding you, the thought of the solitary path you were always so sure of your entire life suddenly feel like a cold, lonely place that you didn’t notice you were already leaning closer to the warmth of Neteyam’s arm against yours. In that moment, it was the only thing that mattered.

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

The sounds of voices and of hunters sparring in the training grounds grew louder as you hurried past, your arms filled with fresh bundles of sterilization moss and clean cloths. Mo’at had sent word about the labor of one of the pregnant women in the clan. You were in a hurry, your pace swift yet your spine remained straight, your chin tilted high, as per usual.

A hunter called your name from the weapon racks. “Careful there, the ground is uneven! Do you need strong hunter to clear the path for you?“

“She won't answer you, skxawng,“ another laughed. “Perhaps if you bring her herbs, or better yet, if you were a better warrior than Neteyam!”

“Just ask me to be the next Toruk Makto, why don’t you?” The former remarked sarcastically.

Neteyam watched from the sidelines, a senior warrior was talking to him but his gaze was busy tracking you, watching how you didn't even break your stride or tilt your head. Your chin remained high, your eyes focused on the path ahead. He had known for a long time that to you, the voices of men who call to you were merely just buzzing of summer insects, something too beneath your notice.

“I’ll work on that, brother, then I’ll get back to you,” he told the senior warrior, nodding to him seriously. The latter clapped his shoulder before walking away.

“What a shame,“ he heard one of the hunters mutter. “To have such beauty in the clan, only for it to be locked away for the Great Mother. She takes after Äye. She won't ever look at a man, let alone mate with one.”

“Unattainable,” heard another agree, sighing. “She’s like the High Peak. Beautiful to look at, but no one is meant to live there.“

Their conversation, though, halted instantly the moment Neteyam strode out from the shade. His eyes were dark and unimpressed as he looked at them, that even the hunters a few years older than him couldn’t help but look away.

“Is that what we do now?” Neteyam asked, his voice low but cutting. “Stand around the racks, bothering those on tasks for the Tsahik? Talking about our women with disrespect?”

The first hunter looked away, embarrassed. “It was just a joke, Neteyam.”

“Your mouths keep buzzing like forest insects,” Neteyam snapped, stepping forward so they were forced to look at him. “This constant hooting at her is getting old. Have you not outgrown it? She is doing important work for the clan. If I see the bunch of you doing anything other than training again, I will personally ensure all of you spend the rest of the moon cleaning the waste pits.”

They nodded efficiently, their faces the poster of good behavior, but Neteyam would remember. The next time this happens again, it won’t be just scolding they are getting. He remained standing there though, reflecting on what the hunters have said. None of it had been a lie and he’d felt the bitter, familiar spark of pride and pain flickered in his chest. They are right, he thought, you are unattainable.

He knew better than anyone the depth of your conviction. Over the past years, your quiet friendship had become the foundation of his life, but it was a foundation built on a boundary he could never cross. He had seen you at your most vulnerable and your most powerful, and in his heart, he had long ago committed a quiet kind of blasphemy. He worshiped Eywa the best he could, but you were his deity on land, one whose words he followed without question. One he guards with all of him.

Now, at twenty-one, he had become as reserved as you are, making a silent vow of his own: if you were to be alone, he would be alone with you. He would make a good Olo’eyktan but he didn’t need to be mated to ensure that. The tradition of the leaders being mated was a strong one, but Neteyam knew he could never give himself to another woman when his soul and his heart had long been claimed by a woman who belonged to the Great Mother. If friendship was all the nectar you could offer, he would live his entire life on that single drop.

He turned back to his warriors. He would lead, he would hunt, and he would protect. And in the quiet hours of the night, he would continue to love you from the distance you required, content to be the only man you didn't ignore, even if he could never be the man you held

Hours later, you are alone in the Tsahik’s tent, the adrenaline of the birth you assisted for the first time had yet to leave your system. You were wiping down a set of obsidian scalpels when the tent flap lifted, letting in the cool evening breeze that carried the familiar smell that always seemed to ground you.

Neteyam didn't speak at first, standing just inside the entrance. He had showered away the dust of the training grounds, his skin gleaming in the soft light of the firepot. You lifted your eyes, your lips still curved in a small, satisfied smile. You let your eyes do the thing they always do when he’s in front of you. Feast on. He was the very image of a future leader. Muscled, scarred, and radiating an authority that silenced most men with a single look.

“Hi,” you greeted.

His lips formed a boyish smile. “The village is finally quiet,” he said, his voice dropping into that private, velvet register. “Was the delivery alright? How was it?“

You sighed softly, and for the first time that day, your mark dissolved into a radiant, tired smile. “It was a boy,” you breathed, setting the scalpel down. “Healthy and loud. He didn't stop wailing until Mo’at placed him on his mother’s chest.“

Neteyam moved closer, leaning against a support beam near your herb rack. “And the mother?“

“Strong. She was incredible, Neteyam.” You moved to a bundle of dried leaves, your hands working quickly to sort them, your enthusiasm bubbling over. “But you should have heard Mo’at. While she was cleaning the babe, she looked at him and then looked at me and said, ‘this one is small. Neteyam, now, he was a giant. The biggest baby I have seen in all my cycles’. She said you were so large she nearly wondered if Neytiri had hidden a second child behind you.”

Neteyam’s ears flicked back, a rare flush appeared on his cheeks. He huffed a laugh, looking down at his large, callous hands. “A giant, was I? I suppose I’ve given my mother’s back quite the ache.”

You let out a genuine, silvery chuckle, the sound dancing through the quiet tent. “I truly wish I could have seen you then. You were the very first of your kind, your father’s blood... and that of ours. I’m sure you were beautiful.” you mused, your voice softening as you looked at him. You realized too late how that sounded, and you quickly turned back to your jars. “It is a wonder of Eywa.”

“Is that why you look at me so closely sometimes?“ he teased, stepping into your personal space to reach for a heavy jar on a high shelf you are struggling to reach.

“I do not look at you closely,” you lied, your heart doing that treacherous dance against your ribs as he reached over your head. His arm was a solid wall of muscle beside your ear, and the scent of mint enveloped you.

“You do,” he countered softly, handing you the jar but not pulling his hand away until your fingers were firmly around his. “You track my movements like I am a complex creature you are trying to categorize. It is quite intimidating, being under the gaze of the clan’s most devoted scholar.”

You rolled your eyes, though your hands were trembling. “You are imagining things. Why would I look at you...” Your lips pushed forward, your voice lacking bravado.

Your heart is beating too heavily against your chest and your palms are sweating. He notices. He knows your eyes are often on him. He knows you watch each of his movements, he knows you feel hot every time you see how his shoulder and chest significantly broadened and filled out with muscles, or how the sight of his muscled abdomen flexing makes your breath catch at your throat.

“Research? To see how the 'hybrid' grows?” he says, his voice too innocent.

Your teeth gritted at your attempt to stop a groan from escaping. You are going to hyperventilate! You cleared your throat. “Maybe,“ you managed to say, your voice tight as you gripped the jar he’d just handed you. “It is a healer's duty to be thorough. I simply... pay attention to detail.”

He chuckled while your face felt like it had been plunged into a firepot. Neteyam is too innocent, while your mind is filled with inappropriate thoughts that shouldn’t even be there in the first place. You are a woman firm on the sanctity of your path! For Eywa's sake, gather your wits!

“Well,” he murmured. “If the research is still ongoing, I suppose I am already here. Do you need to... measure anything else? Or is the height of the hybrid sufficient for today's report?”

Your breath caught in your throat. He was obviously teasing, his voice light and playful, but because you're guilty of your shameful thoughts, what is to him simple banter between friends is slow torture to you.

“I need to boil the nettles,” you said, abruptly turning your back you nearly bumped into a tray of obsidian.

Your hands trembled as you reached for a pot of water. Your mind, usually a home of prayer and medicinal formulas, was currently a chaotic mess. You’re both ashamed and shameless, because despite your guilt, you’re still thinking about how soft the chest on his skin looked in the light.

“You're using the cold-press pot for a boil,” Neteyam noted softly.

You felt him behind you, his chest nearly brushing your shoulder blades as he reached around you to get the correct ceramic vessel. For a heartbeat, you were encased in him. You could see the way the veins mapped his hands, hands that were built for a bow and arrow but also held the young with devastating gentleness.

Eywa, strike me down, you thought, squeezing your eyes shut for a fleeting second.

“Right. Of course,”  you choked out, grabbing the correct pot from him with an unusual rashness that his surprised eyes flitted up to meet yours.

“You seem distracted,” he said, his voice losing some of its playfulness.

Your brows furrowed, intending to give him a sharp dismissal, but your gaze caught on the way his lower lip was slightly tucked under his teeth, a habit he’d had since he was ten. It was so boyish, so familiar, and yet, on this man’s face, it was lethal.

“No, of course, not... I’m just tired. It’s been a long day,” you said.

He nodded, his hand reaching out to tuck a stray braid behind your ear. “I’ll work on that, you can go and sit down. I’ll clean up, too,” he said, his eyes searching yours with a sincerity that made you want to scream. His hand wrapped around your upper arm to gently nudge you away from the hearth.

“I can do it,” you said, though your feet were already moving.

“You've been on your feet since the first light,” he countered, his voice firm with that quiet authority he had perfected over the years. “Let me do it, alright? I’ve got so much energy to spare. I didn’t have patrol today, so I’m practically a live wire.”

He turned back to the hearth, his movements fluid and confident. You sank onto the woven mat and from this lower vantage point, the view was even more treacherous. You tried to look at the ceiling. You tried to recite the properties of your herbs. You tried to pray. But your eyes kept drifting back to the way the light of the flames danced across the broad expanse of his back, and the way his tail flicked in a slow, content rhythm as he worked.

“There,” Neteyam said after a few minutes, oblivious to the spiritual crisis happening three feet behind him. He set the pot to simmer and began to move around the workbench. “The nettles are on. I’ve organized the herbs, cleaned everything, and put the scalpels back in its place. Is there anything else, or can I walk you back home now so you can get a better rest?”

“I can walk myself,” you said, perhaps a little too quickly. You scrambled to your feet, desperately trying to reassemble the fragments of your dignity. “Thank you, Neteyam. For the... assistance.”

He stood by the tent flap, holding it open for you. He didn’t press, you know he never would. You passed by him and he gave you a small, tired smile. “Sleep well,” he murmured, your name on his lips a soft caress.

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

The summer heat had settled over the forest like a heavy, humid blanket, causing most Omatikaya youth to retreat to the river when the sun is at its high. Today alone, half the village had migrated to the banks, the air filled with splashes of water and sounds of laughter.

You sat on a smooth, warm boulder, the rock's heat seeping into your skin. Being bare was as natural as breathing for the people held no shame in the bodies Eywa gave them. Your legs were still submerged in the cold water as you eat the snacks you brought with you. Tasi and Yaremu were wading in the shallows nearby, their voices dropped to conspiratorial whispers that still carried easily over to you.

“He didn't stop there,” Yaremu was saying, her eyes wide and dancing with a secret, frantic energy. She was describing a rendezvous with her boyfriend las night, her hands gesturing toward her lower extremities submerged in the water. “He started at my ankles, and then… well, the way his tongue felt between my legs… I thought I was going to see the Great Mother right then and there.”

Tasi squealed and giggled, leaning in for more. “Was it better than the last time?”

“Oh, it was! It seems to get better and better, you know... We are exploring and learning each other’s bodies,” Yaremu grinned.

Tasi sighed dreamily. “I could say the same. But it’s the way he breathes against my neck that gets me,” Tasi whispered, her fingers tracing the line of her own collarbone. “The heat of it. And when he finally... when he enters, it’s like your whole body forgets how to be separate from his. You are basically a single entity, moving as one—”

Yaremu giggled, splashing a bit of water. “Oh, Great Mother! And the hands! How heavy they feel when they finally stop being polite and start claiming what they want.”

They both giggled, their bodies vibrating with frantic energy. Tasi looked at you and smiled a small one, “Oh, sister! I wish you could have experienced it... But the path reserved for the Great Mother is just as good,” she said.

You made a face of theatrical disgust. “Oh, don’t feel bad for me, sister, I’m not missing out. I can’t even imagine,” you said sassily.

But oh, that’s a big lie. Your mind, usually so disciplined, had been picturing a very specific set of calloused hands, a very specific weight. You saw them on your waist, just as Tasi had described, pulling you flush against the solid warmth of a very familiar body. You imagined the “weight” Yaremu spoke of, imagining how a certain body would weigh. Your mind even completed the picture by providing you with the familiar scent of mint and woodsmoke, you could actually smell it.

It’s like their words were seeds who fell into fertile soil, and now you felt a flush that had nothing to do with the sun.

That was when you saw him.

Neteyam was waist-deep in the deeper water a few paces away, his skin glistening. He was surrounded by a few other hunters, their voices a low drone but their laughter boisterous. He was mid-laugh, but anyone can tell his eyes would wander to you every now and then, because when his gaze drifted back to where you are, his laughter died down a little. His eyes locked onto yours, and the air between you seemed to burn.

There was no boyish embarrassment in the way he stared at you, no hurried glance at the sky. He watched you with a heavy, predatory stillness it made your nape feel like it’s burning as goosebumps pricked your skin. You are not ashamed in your nakedness, the people have always swam in the river like this, and nothing is new with seeing each other naked.

But the gaze of the man across from you had given you a defiant, primitive urge. Instead of hiding, you shifted. You leaned back on your palms, tilting your head to the side to let the sun hit your neck. You arched your spine slowly, a deliberate, feline stretch that pushed your chest forward. Your breasts, firm and perky, on display as the tips pebbled. You felt his eyes track the movement. From this distance, you could see his pupils blow wide, his tail breaking the surface of the water behind him in a sharp, agitated flick. He didn't move, but the tension radiating from him was palpable.

The tension followed you back to the village, and now, even as the sun dipped below the horizon and the communal fire dimmed, the memory of his gaze still made your skin hot. You were walking back to the Tsahik’s tent, intending to collect the herbs you dried and make the poultice you’ve been meaning to make.

The walk was silent, until it was broken by the sound of familiar footsteps behind you. You didn't need to turn around to know it was him. His scent had reached you and the air seemed to tighten, enough to tell you who it is. You plastered on a calm facade before you turned around, seeing him standing in the shadows, his silhouette tall and imposing, his breathing heavy as if he had run to get here.

“I wanted to make sure you were alright,” he said, his voice a low, rough grate. He stepped into the light of the firepot, his expression uncharacteristically strained. “Earlier, at the river... I hope I did not frighten you.”

Your lower lip caught between your teeth. You remembered the way your body had reacted to him, the way you had arched your back, offering yourself to his eyes. The shame you expected to feel was nowhere to be found, replaced instead by a blooming heat, and a frantic beating heart.

“I wasn't frightened,” you said softly, your voice barely a whisper. You took a small, daring step toward him, your heart hammering against your ribs. “I’m... I’m glad you saw me.”

Neteyam’s breath hitched, and then a huff of chuckle escaped his lips. What you said was just the surface, small in the vastness of what he had always held for you. “I have always seen you,” he murmured, his voice dropping an octave.

It seemed so simple, and yet it was all he could say. He wanted to tell you the truth of it, how he had been here since you were children, since the first time you ever looked at him after he had become aware of his feelings. That there was never been anyone else he truly saw. But he would not frighten you. To know that you were not frightened of him after his boldness at the river had been a relief.

You smiled softly, a genuine, aching look that reached your eyes. “I know... I also know that not everyone does...” you said, your hand lifted to press a palm against his muscled chest.

You are perceived differently by everyone in the clan. Just like Äye, you will soon be seen more as a figure of religion or the shadow of the Great Mother. But in your most private daydreams... This man in front of you sees you as a woman... But even if you know that he does, your path does not lead to him. Your palm felt scorched where it touched his chest, feeling the powerful thud of his heart against your fingertips. He was flesh and blood and heat.

He took a half-step closer, forcing you to tilt your head back to maintain eye contact. “They are fools...” he whispered.

You knew you should pull back. You should change the topic and speak of the cooling salves or the morning rituals. But the memory of the river, of the way he had looked at you when you were bare and unashamed, was the only thought taking over your mind.

“Neteyam,” you breathed.

You voice was so soft, so lovely in his ears, that for the first time in his life, he dared to break through the boundaries. He leaned down, his movement slow, giving you every second to turn away. But you stayed. You stayed until his forehead and nose touched yours. You heart was beating too fast it was aching in your chest. You wanted to hold him, to grab him and hold him tight to you.

When his lips finally met yours, it was a collision of years of unspoken feelings and repressed hunger. You let out a soft sound into his mouth as your fingers curled into his chest strap, pulling him closer until there was no air left between you. The kiss was clumsy at first, the frantic meeting of two people who had only ever touched in dreams, but then his hand moved to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your braids to tilt your head just right.

As he deepened the kiss, his other arm wound around your waist, hauling you flush against the unyielding lines of his body. You felt the heat of his skin and the terrifying strength of his hold. For this one moment, the twenty-two generations of solitary women in your family were silenced. The path was gone. There was only the weight of his hands and the feel of his soft lips against yours.

When he pulled back, just an inch, his breathing was ragged, his forehead resting against yours. He kept his arms locked around you, his chest heaving as he stared down at you with a look of pure, terrifying devotion. A huge smile sliced across your lips and he grinned, huffing a shaky laugh. You let a breathless laugh yourself, your fingers tangling in his braids.

“Are you making cooling salves? I can be of use. I make the best of them, you know that,” he said casually.

Your nose wrinkled. “I guess I’ll need the help,” you said, your eyes drifting back to his lips. “And the kisses, too.”

You startled when a thunder of laughter escaped him, pulling you to him for a more thorough hug. “Oh, my middle name has always been generous.”

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You felt his tail wrap possessively around your leg, a grounding, heavy weight as his mouth moved to the sensitive curve where your neck met your shoulder. Your head fell back, a soft, traitorous moan escaping your lips. “Neteyam...” you muttered breathily. “Don’t leave marks...”

“Hmm?” he hummed with humor, his mouth already sucking some skin into its warmth.

“Tasi pointed out... the marks on my neck the other day,“ you said. “I can’t keep telling her it’s insect bites.”

His body shook as he chuckled, lifting his head to press a kiss on your lips. Then his lips repeated a trail on your jaw, leaving wet kisses and licks, making you smile as you held him tighter. “Why... Can’t help it. You taste so good,” he murmured.

“I’m not a fruit,” you countered.

He hummed, sucking on your skin softly. “So sweet, nonetheless.”

You cupped his face, bringing it up so you could kiss him. You both have improved significantly in the past weeks, having found a different hobby aside from talking, when you two are alone. He helps you in the healing tent, but it’s not always that your companions are not around, like today. Kiri and Mo’at are in the tent, preparing for a severe injury a hunter got from a hunt. You had told Mo’at you will search for night-blooming lilies, but your feet had led you straight to where you knew Neteyam finished his scout rounds.

And now, you’re here, half-lying against a massive tree root, under the comforting weight of a warrior who couldn’t stop kissing you. He deepened the kiss and you felt his hand hover on your waist. One of your hands lowered to hold one of them and his hand immediately move to intertwine his fingers with yours.

You smiled, but that was not your intention. You brought his hand to one of your peaks, moving your top aside so his hand could touch the soft flesh bare. You gained a soft groan from him and he lifted his head to look at you. You rose to chase his lips, pressing his hand on your boob and moaning when he began kneading it.

“Yes...“ you mumbled.

His lips lowered down and you arched your back, waiting for his lips to reach your peaks, and when it did, you fought with your entire body just so you wouldn’t shake and buck. The sensation felt so good, it made you feel even hotter. It made you want to close you thighs, but because his body was between your legs, you could only buck against him.

“Oh...” you moaned, bucking against him again when you felt a hard ridge make contact with your clothed softness. “Neteyam...”

He hummed, his mouth full of your soft flesh, sending delicious vibration across your chest. You felt his hand move down to your hips, holding you in place before his hips came down on you, dragging that hard ridge you felt earlier across your crotch. You shivered, squeezing your eyes tight as you moaned. He repeated it again and again until you felt so ticklish in that spot between your legs, feeling a warm pool of liquid gushing out of you.

“Fuck,“ you heard him say, moving away from you a little to fumble at his loincloth. You felt a warm wetness land on your thigh and he groaned. “Fuck, sorry,“ his deep voice grated and you felt his hand, but you were already lifting your head to see.

You lips parted at the sight of his erected cock on display, a gasp escaping you. It was long and thick, its wide tip a flush of dark indigo, wet with his own release. Most of the glistening essence was on the floor and some were on your thigh. You genuinely didn’t know what to focus on. Your mind wandered to Tasi’s talks and this can’t possibly be the thing that enters a woman.

You curiosity got the better of you though, your hand shot down to grab it but his hand was faster, grabbing your wrist and moving it away. Your nose flared in annoyance and your eyes lifted to glare at him, but he met you with eyes that spoke of challenge.

“That's right. Keep your eyes up here,” he said in that private, lower register, his hand putting that thing back inside his loincloth.

You groaned and pulled your wrist from him. “I just want to touch it,” you whined.

He angled his head to kiss you. “Unless you want to drive me insane, you can’t,” his hand hovered over your thigh to wipe his release off of your skin.

Your hand shot down again, but this time, to dip a finger on his release, popping it to your mouth before he could even react. You were like a kid left unattended with a food that fell on the ground and he's the adult keeping you away from it, because now, he's staring at you both in surprise and wonder. You hummed at its surprisingly good taste and he wasn’t even able to stop you when you dipped a finger the second time around, scooping more essence, and keeping eye contact with him as if daring him to stop you.

You broke eye contact to look at it, intending to scoop down again but his hand already wrapped around your wrist, stopping you. You glared at him, groaning again, but he was already wiping your thigh clean with a piece of cloth. Your lips pushed forward, sad to see the essence gone. “You’re such a kill joy,” you said in a whine, your tail moving under you in an agitated flick.

He huffed a chuckle, his face moving to kiss your pouting lips softly. “Sorry, my love... Maybe next time,” he murmured.

Your hands lifted to hold his face properly so you could kiss him better, smiling against his lips.

A week later, you found yourself standing above the plains, overlooking the valley below as you gripped your basket half-full of cliff-blossoms. Neteyam was leading a pack of young hunters on a sweep of the forest floor. From this distance, he was a vision of controlled power, commanding the space around him without even speaking. You watched him signal a halt with a sharp, fluid movement of his arm. He barked an order, his voice carrying upward, deep and resonant.

He was wearing his full warrior gear, the woven chest straps accentuating the massive breadth of his shoulders and cummerbund hugging his muscled torso. You felt a wave of heat wash over you, settling low in your belly. You were practically vibrating with a hunger that felt both blasphemous and inevitable. You imagined him coming to the Tsahik’s tent later tonight, covered in the dust of the hunt, and the way he would look at you when he finally got you alone.

“A natural leader, isn’t he?”

You jumped, nearly dropping your basket. Kiri was standing a few paces away, her head tilted, watching you with an expression that was far too perceptive for your comfort.

“The clan is in good hands,” you said quickly, forcing your voice into its usual even tone. You turned back to the cliff-side, picking at a blossom with trembling fingers.

She didn't say anything else, but the way she sniffed the air, a subtle twitch of her nose, made your heart stop. For weeks, she had been quiet, but you know how observant Kiri is; she knew the difference between the scent of night-lilies and the scent of her brother who had been spending far too much time tangled in your limbs.

Later that evening, the Tsahik’s tent was filled with the sounds of your friends’ chatters and the air thick with the smell of boiling herbs. Mo’at was away at a naming ceremony, leaving you, Kiri, Tasi, and Yaremu to manage the evening prep.

“He was so frustrated,” Yaremu giggled, crushing a handful of seeds. “I told him we couldn't go all the way, so he just... he took my hand and guided it. I didn't know a man could make those kind of sounds just from a touch of the fingers.”

Tasi leaned in, her eyes wide. “Wait, you just... with your hand? Like you were kneading dough?”

“More like stroking clay, but faster,” Yaremu whispered, her face flushed. “They get so sensitive there. It’s like they lose their minds.”

Kiri let out a boisterous cackle, throwing a piece of bark at Yaremu. “You two are so inappropriate! We are at the Tsahik’s tent!”

You stared into the boiling pot, the memory of Neteyam’s... thing... flashing behind your eyes. You had never seen it again, he made sure of that. But you remembered the way he had stopped you from touching it, the way he had claimed it would "drive him insane."

“Is it... difficult?“ you asked without thinking, your voice cutting through the laughter.

The tent went dead silent. Tasi and Yaremu stared at you as if you had just grown a second head. Even Kiri stopped laughing, her luminous eyes narrowing as she shifted her gaze toward you.

“Difficult?” Tasi repeated, stunned. “Since when do you care about the mechanics of a man’s pleasure?“

“I am a healer,” you said, your chin tilting up, though your pulse was racing. “I am simply curious about the... response. Yaremu mentioned they make sounds. Is it a reflex, or a choice?”

Yaremu grinned slowly. “Oh, it's a reflex, sister. They can't help it. If you move your thumb just right over the tip... they break. Even the strongest of them.”

You swallowed hard, your mind instantly picturing Neteyam breaking under your hand. The thought made the tips of your breasts ache against your top. “I see,” you said, stirring the pot with a bit too much force. “Fascinating. From a research perspective, of course.”

“Of course,” Kiri echoed. She moved closer to you, bumping her shoulder against yours. “Might I ask, sister, if you have been giving Neteyam your favorite lillies... Because he’s been smelling an awful lot like them lately.”

Your lips parted. You haven’t even noticed that! “M-Maybe... Maybe he uses them when he bathes,” you lied.

She pulled away with a smile, nodding as if she understood, while Tasi and Yaremu continued to gossip, blissfully unaware of what’s going on. You didn’t know whether to be worried about Kiri’s reactions or not, still thinking about it even when the evening meal was over. You went back in the Tsahik’s tent, focused on grinding a stubborn root into paste, your pestle acting as a heartbeat for the quiet room.

Your entire body seemed to melt into a puddle, though, when you heard the tent flap rustle. Neteyam stepped inside, looking exhausted but exhilarated. He had shed his heavy scouting gear, leaving only the chest strap. A small smudge of blue paint was smeared across his temple.

“Hey,” he greeted, his voice gravelly from shouting orders all day. He didn't wait for an answer before closing the distance, reaching out to tug playfully on one of your braids.

“How was the hunt?” you asked.

“Successful, except that we saw a palulukan on the way back. The Great Mother was kind, because it didn’t see us. Young Kamu was practically swallowing air by the time it was gone, the boy has forgotten how to breathe.”

You pictured the boy, one of the youth who just passed their iknimaya last season. “Cut him some slack, you mighty warrior. The boy is only fourteen,” you said, chuckling. You reached for a damped cloth to wipe the paint on his temple.

His hand followed yours, grabbing it gently and pressing a kiss on your fingers. “Your hands are shaking, baby. How long have you been at this?” he grabbed the pestle and mortar, his forehead furrowed.

“Since the sun was high. Don’t worry about it,” you said, because your hands weren’t shaking because of what he’s thinking, but yoy were grateful for the reprieve nonetheless. You leaned back against the table, watching him take over the task with effortless ease.

“Don’t worry? Your hands seem so overwork, what with that Tsahik’s tasks and your classes at the pavillion,” he reprimanded softly.

You pushed your lips forward, ignoring him as you took your damp cloth again and began to wipe the dust from his shoulders with a damp cloth, your movements lingering. “Yaremu and Tasi were talking today,“ you started, trying to sound clinical as you moved the cloth over the swell of his chest.

“About...“ he trailed after it took you long to continue, still focused on his paste.

“About how... a man responds to a certain touch. With the hand.”

Neteyam went still, and you saw his eyes zeroing in on something. “What touch?”

“They said it makes even the strongest warriors break. That they lose their minds,” you whispered, leaning in until your breath fanned over his skin. “I find the claim about reflex... questionable. I believe I need to conduct my own study. For research.”

He stared at you before letting out a choked, dark laugh. He reached out, his hand wrapping around the back of your neck, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw with a possessive heat. “Not here,” he whispered.

Your lips broke into a huge grin. “You’ll allow me?”

He moved to kiss the tip of your nose. “I will never say no to you,” he said.

“You did say no... Last week,” you pointed out and a deep laughter rumbled in his chest.

“I did say next time, didn’t I?” he replied, stealing another deep, searing kiss before pulling back with a wink. “I’ll finish here. Go up the higher branch, I’ll meet you in ten minutes.”

You pursed your lips and nodded, almost skipping your way out of the tent. The higher branch of the Hometree was so high in the clouds that the village sounds were reduced to a distant hum. It was a little cold but it was of the good kind, lulling the vibrations of excitement in your body as you looked far beyond the never-ending sight of the rainforest.

When Neteyam arrived, you two didn’t waste time. The moment he was within reach, he pulled you into a kiss that felt like a claim, his hands sliding down to anchor you against him.

“Show me this research, then,” he rasped against your lips.

Your hands were trembling as you reached for his loincloth, but curiosity was a more powerful force than shame. He was also trembling when he was finally bared to you, his cock looking even more formidable in the dimmed light. You caressed the length of it with your fingers first, hearing him take a swift, sharp breath, and when you wrapped your fingers around him, your lips parted at the heat and the velvet-like texture.

You remembered Yaremu’s advice, like stroking clay, but faster, and began to move. Neteyam’s head hit the bark of the tree with a dull thud as you caressed him, pumping your hand up and down high length. A low, gutteral sound tore from his throat, a raw animalistic noise you had never heard from him. His eyes were droopy but not even a palulukan could make him close his eyes right now.

"Oh, baby..." he groaned, his fingers digging into the flesh of you hips.

You watched him with fascinated eyes. He was breaking. This brave and mighty warrior was trembling under your touch, his breath coming in jagged hitches. Emboldened by your power, you moved your thumb over the wide tip, just as Yaremu had described.

Neteyam’s hips bucked uncontrollably, his entire body shuddering. "Fuck—wait, stop—"

But you didn't stop. The curiosity that had been burning in you all day reached a fever pitch. You lowered yourself, your hair spilling over his thighs, and before he could realize your intent, you took him into your mouth.

The sensation was overwhelming. The taste of him, the heat, the sheer size. Neteyam let out a sound that was half-sob, half-growl, his hands flying down to grab your hair. He only let you stay there for a few seconds, his body vibrating so violently you thought he might actually fall from the branch, before he scrambled to lift your head up.

“No,“ he gasped, his face flushed, his eyes wild. He hauled you to straddle him, crushing your lips with a kiss that was almost feral. “Not yet. I can't... if you do that, I'll never let you go back to that tent.“

He held you tight, both your hearts racing and both of you gasping for air in the high, cold wind. You cupped his face, kissing him softly. Nothing mattered, not your path, nor your vow to yourself, it was replaced by the loud, screaming truth of what you were becoming to each other.

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Weeks later, the celebration of the new harvest was in full swing. The communal clearing was filled of the sounds of drums, swirling colors, and the intoxicating scent of fermented berries. The elder warriors were generous with the brew, and for once, you didn't hold back. You leaned back against a carved root, a soft giggle escaping you as you watched a group of younger children unsuccessfully try to mimic a warrior's dance.

Kiri nudged your shoulder. “Careful, sister.”

“Let her have her fun, Kiri,” Neteyam intervened, though he was grinning just as widely. He held up his own bowl, the blue paint on his arm shimmering under the bioluminescent lanterns. “To the best healer-in-training and the worst berry-picker in the clan.”

“What?” you protested. “I am an excellent picker. It’s really just quality over quantity for me.” you said sassily, rolling your eyes.

“Is that what we're calling it now?” Neteyam laughed, the sound deep. He turned to Kiri. “She spent five minutes today analyzing a single fruit while I had already filled two baskets.”

“It's called attention to detail, Neteyam! You wouldn't understand,” you shot back, your eyes dancing. The brew was making everything feel warm and golden.

Kiri watched the exchange, her head tilting in that way that usually meant she was talking to the creatures, but tonight, she just looked at you two and smirked. Neteyam took a long sip of his brew, his eyes locked onto yours over the rim of the bowl, challenge sparking in them.

“I'm going to find Tuk before she tries to eat every pie there is tonight. Try not to get ‘lost’ in the woods, you two...”

She vanished into the crowd with a knowing wink. The moment she was gone, the space between you and Neteyam seemed to evaporate, and in the chaos of the festival, you were the only two people in the world.

“Another bowl?” he whispered, his tail twitching rhythmically behind him.

“I think,” you breathed, looking at his lips, “that I've had enough of the brew. I'm starting to want things they aren't offering.”

Neteyam’s grin turned slow and predatory, his hand sliding down to grip your thigh under the table. He tilted his head toward the dark periphery of the Hometree and raised a brow. You smirked, and bowed down to your food, picking a nut to pop it in your mouth. He stood up to go, and you waited before following him, your heart racing with a fluttering excitement.

By the time you reached the outskirts, the sounds of the party were a distant muffle and the cool night air hit your skin, but it did nothing to douse the heat between you. Neteyam walked closer to you, his pupils blown wide, his movements slightly sluggish and drunken, which only made him look devastatingly handsome.

He cupped your face and kissed you. “I haven't been able to stop thinking about it,“ he murmured against your lips.

“Hm?” you hummed, kissing him softly.

He trailed a hand down your side, his palm hot and heavy, before coming to rest on your thigh. He squeezed gently, his thumb tracing small circles. “I want to return the favor,” he whispered, his breath smelling of sweet berries and forest air.

“How?” you asked, your voice breathy, your body already leaning into his.

He leaned down, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. “Mouth or fingers?”

A shiver of anticipation raced down your spine. You feel like you know what this was. You looked up at him, a bold, drunken grin spreading across your lips.

“Both?”

Neteyam let out a sharp exhaled breath, a flicker of nervous energy crossing his face despite the haze of the brew. “Okay,” he whispered.

He started with your neck, his mouth hot and insistent, sucking at the sensitive skin until you knew a mark would be left for sure.

You two sat by the large root of a tree, his hands were everywhere, caressing and squeezing, until it untied your loincloth around your tail. When the fabric fell away, he didn't hesitate. He knelt before you, his golden eyes filled with a sudden, sharp clarity.

He pressed a reverent kiss there, and then he parted his lips so he could lick your slit from the base to the top, making you pull your hips away in a jerk. His hands on your hips firmly held you in place, though, keeping yoy from running away from his intense ministrations. You bit your lip but small sounds still escaped you, your thighs wanting to close, and when he added a finger, you had to cover your mouth to muffle your loud moan.

Neteyam let out a low, frustrated groan as his finger worked inside you, you were so tight. His mouth and tongue never left you and you didn’t know what hit you, you just began to tremble in his grip, your fingers tangling in his braids and grabbing hard at a handful.

“The world is spinning...” you chuckled as he kissed his way up to your body, sucking hard on your nipple.

“Yeah?“ his lips came down to kiss you softly, and then he lifted his body up, fitting himself between your parted thighs.

He stared at you, his chest heaving, his jaw set in a line of restraint. You moaned in protest when your felt his thumb rub your clit, but you didn’t pull back because it felt so good. You bit your lip and moved your hips gently against his finger. He looked, looking at your bare pussy, and how he had his hand on it, his thumb rubbing you.

And you liked it. He shivered at the reality of it all, his breath catching in his throat. If a year ago, someone told him he’d be here with you, he wouldn’t have dared to believe it... And right now, if he were only dreaming, the person who’ll wake him up will receive the punch of a lifetime.

You looked at him, watching how his pupil blew so wide it’s practically eating up the gold. You smiled breathlessly, reaching to cup his face, your heart overflowing. “What do you want to do, hm?” you craned your head up a little to kiss him sotfly. “Do it... do what you want.”

He stared at you and you yelped when his fingers pinched your folds. “Are you sure?” he rasped, his voice sounding like it was being dragged over gravel.

You nodded firmly. With an animalistic growl, he shed his own loincloth in one fluid motion, revealing the thick, pulsing length of his arousal. You tried to sit up to see his bare form better, but he pressed you back with a hand on your shoulder, and your body tingled at how dominant he seemed to be when he’s drunk.

He didn't enter you, not truly, but he lined himself up against your folds. He began to work his hips, dragging his ridiculous length against your slit in deep strokes from base to tip.

“Fuck, baby...” he groaned, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he found a rhythm.

The friction was overwhelming. The thickness of him was overstimulating your clit until every nerve ending in your body was screaming. You arched your back, your hips bucking instinctively to meet his. “So good, ‘teyam...” you moaned in jagged breaths.

He groaned, catching your mouth in a feral kiss. “I’m coming... fuck...”

He wanted to hold out so bad, to prolong the moment, but it was so fucking difficult, especially when you keep whispering in his ear. He came in a hot rush on your stomach just as you came your high again. You clung to him, your body quivering in the aftermath. As he collapsed against you, you reached down, scooping a bit of his essence and bringing it to your lips. You moaned in pleasure, while Neteyam let out a soft, tired laugh, kissing your cheek and letting you do as you pleased.

Once you’re both dressed, you chased each other out of the woods but Neteyam’s hand snaked out, his fingers catching the end of your tail as you tried to dart ahead of him. He gave it a light tickle, a sensation that sent a playful jolt right up your spine.

“That’s cheating!” you squealed, spinning around with a wide, lopsided grin. You smacked his muscled abdomen, but it felt like you hit a warm stone wall, stinging your palm.

Neteyam didn't even flinch, he just huffed a breathy laugh. “Did you hurt yourself?“ he asked, catching your hand.

“Humble bragging, aren’t we?” you teased, stepping into his space and poking a finger into the center of his chest. “I think the brew caused your head to grow bigger than it already is.”

He caught your finger, pressing a kiss to the tip of it. “If my head is big, it is only because you occupy every corner of it.” He pulled you closer, his tail winding around yours in a tight, possessive curl. You leaned your head against his shoulder as you giggled, and for a few more steps, the world was nothing but the scent of him and the dizzying joy of the night.

But as you rounded the final thicket leading back to the communal clearing, the laughter died in your throat. At the sight of your father standing just outside the Hometree’s entrance, you moved away from Neteyam faster than lightning could hit the ground. He was deep in conversation with another senior warrior, his arms crossed over his chest. The shift in the air was instantaneous and your joy was replaced with cold anxiety.

Neteyam felt it, too. He immediately untangled his tail from yours and straightened his spine, his posture shifting from the relaxed lover back to the disciplined son of the Olo’eyktan. Your father turned his head. He didn't move, and he didn't stop his conversation, but his gaze locked onto the two of you. You walked faster to get to your father, feeling the guilt rise in you a little. You wondered if there were marks on your neck, or if your hair was in disarray.

Neteyam reached your flock, raising his hand in a formal warrior’s greeting, his voice steady and respectful when he greeted your father. Your father offered a curt nod, his stare never leaving Neteyam’s face for a long heartbeat. It looked like a silent warning, one that acknowledged the rank Neteyam held, but reminded him exactly whose daughter he was walking home.

“Go inside, daughter,” your father said quietly.

You didn’t look at Neteyam, turning on your heels to walk toward the entrance of the Hometree. You felt ashamed of your feebleness, how you folded so easily at the presence of pressure. You knew your father won’t let it go and that reckoning will soon come, so when you heard the tent flap rustle one evening and didn’t smell Neteyam’s familiar scent, you turned and saw that it was your father. You straightened up, greeting him as you would greet a superior.

“You spend much time in the Tsahik’s tent at night, daughter,“ he started, touching one of the hanging braided ceremonial beads. “And you are rarely alone. Kiri is your friend, isn’t she?”

Your throat bobbed as you swallowed, nodding. “Yes, father...”

“And Neteyam?“ he inquired.

You blinked, you knew this was coming, and yet, you weren’t able to prepare a proper excuse. “Neteyam is a good friend, father. We have been friends since we were kids,” you said, your words tumbling over one another.

He nodded. “I know that. Neteyam is a fine warrior, the pride of the Olo’eyktan... But a man of his vitality and youth does not seek out a woman of your path night after night, nor does he come out of the dark woods with the same woman.”

Your fingers tightened at the herbs. “We are friends, father. N-Neteyam helps me—”

“Friendship between a future leader and Eywa’s maiden is good, yes, but this is not it," he warned, stepping closer. He gestured to you, to the way you had begun to arrange your hair with more care, the subtle oils you used to make your skin glow. “You are becoming worldly. You are looking at the ground when you should be looking at the Great Mother. Do not forget the honor of our lineage. Do not forget the path that was chosen for you.”

That warning rang in your ears for days. You had shed tears about it, spending your days weakly. You are frightened. You fear that you do not have enough will to fight against this path that has long blurred for you. The only sight you can see is the path leading to the man you have loved half of you life. The man you will have to turn your back to in favor of your family’s honor. The man you will lose to another. You can’t even stand imagining it. He will mate someone worthy and strong... She will have him and his children, and there will be nothing for you.

Those thoughts weighed you down. It was a tragedy.

It followed you into the woods a week later, where you were meant to be foraging berries for a pie you had promised Kiri. The basket felt heavy, the vibrant reds of the fruit blurring before your eyes. You were standing in a patch of sunlight, but you felt cold, your tears freely flowing, something you couldn’t do when you’re back at the village because Neteyam will surely know.

But as if summoned, the large leaves near you shifted and Neteyam appeared, his smile was bright, his eyes searching for yours, but when he saw the tears on your cheeks, the slump of your shoulders, and the way your hands moved listlessly among the bushes, his expression shifted instantly to one of deep concern.

“Hey,” his voice murmured, coming to stand before you right away. “What is it? Did something happen in the village?”

You tried to give him a small smile. “No, I’m alright,” you said in a soft voice.

Neteyam has never seen you cry before, save for whe you are moved by wonder or by something sad happening to others. You have always been composed and laid-back, sometimes he doesn't even know if you ever get mad at all. Ans right now, you were crying, and it seemed so personal it’s breaking his heart. Gently, his lips pressed against your temple, pulling you close.

“What’s going on?” he asked, his voice so soft it made your heart spasm.

You wanted to say you’re alright again but it shattered before it even reached your lips. The dam you had built with such effort finally broke. A sob escaped you, and then the tears were falling, frantic and unstoppable. Neteyam inhaled a sharp breath, pulling you into his arms, his chest a solid, warm wall against your grief. He didn't ask questions; he simply held you, his hand stroking your hair as you wept into his shoulder, pouring out your fears on how the path now felt like a cage, how your father’s words had cut you, and most of all, the soul-crushing fear that you would be forced to watch him mate with another while you lived a life of cold, sacred solitude.

“I can't do it,” you choked out, clutching the leather of his harness. “I can't watch you take a mate. I cannot watch you belong to someone else. Neteyam, I cannot do it,“ you are crying so hard you could barely understand your own words.

Neteyam pulled back just enough to frame your face with his hands. The fear in your eyes threatened to break him from the inside out. He hadn’t known you had this much fear in you, and although he knew he shouldn’t feel good about it, he still felt it, but it would never be in him to want to prolong your agony. He loves you so much, his heart could burst. He wiped your tears with his thumbs, his gaze so intense it felt like he was looking directly into your spirit.

“I love you so much,” he whispered, his voice thick with a raw, agonizing honesty. “I have always loved you. Ever since we were children learning in the pavillion under the watchful eyes of the healers, you were the only one for me.”

He pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead, his eyes closing as if in prayer.

“When I was young, I worked until my bones ached because I wanted to be worthy of you. I wanted to be a man who deserved to stand at your side. I wanted to be your mate. I wanted to be the father of your children.” His voice dropped to a reverent, shaky register, smiling at you. "But I also know the path you have chosen. And my love, listen to me, you will never, ever lose me. I have long made my decision. I promised myself I will never mate with another.”

Your breath hitched, your eyes wide with shock. “Neteyam, you are the future Olo’eyktan. You have to—”

“I can be a good leader without a mate,” he countered firmly, his eyes burning with conviction. “I have decided. If the Great Mother requires you to be alone, then I will be alone with you. I will be your shadow. I will guard you and walk your path from a distance, but I will never give myself to another woman. I have long been claimed.”

The image of him, noble, strong, and utterly alone in the dark because of you, shattered your heart into a thousand pieces. You didn't want him to be a shadow. You wanted him to be the man who held your hand in the light. You wanted it so much.

“Do you understand?” he asked, his voice low and steady. "Whatever happens, whatever choice you make, I am here. I will be here. You have me. You will always have me.”

You looked up at him and saw the absolute certainty in his eyes. It frightened you, to say the least, to know that he was willing to let the future of his bloodline wither away just to be the man who stood outside your door.

​“You cannot,” you whispered. You cannot possiby be this selfish. You regretted telling him your fears for you know it only solidified his decision. “Neteyam, the clan... they expect a mother for the people. Your father and Neytiri... they want to see you happy. They want to see your children.“

​“Then they will be disappointed,“ he said, his jaw tightening with an uncharacteristic stubbornness. His hands moved to cup the back of your head, grounding you. “There is no happiness for me if I am lying next to a woman who is not you. I would be a shell. How could I lead our people with a heart that is half-dead?“

“You wouldn’t be with me anyway...” you rasped, your head bowing.

He looked at you with sad eyes but still, he chuckled and kissed the tip of your nose. “You haven’t been paying attention, my love. I have long known that and I have accepted it,” he said. “I will do anything you ask of me, you know that, but you cannot ask me to be with another. I will not obey you.”

You parted your lips to breathe, gripping his forearms to feel the solid warmth of him. The selflessness of his love shamed you. What good have you done to deserve such devotion? That question lingered with you even after you two parted. You knew the answer: you have done nothing. You have never been willful your whole life.

Following your great aunt’s path, the path that twenty-two generations of women in your father’s family have taken, have never before felt like an order to be obeyed. You wanted it before you truly knew what you wanted, but now, as you looked back... Neteyam has always been there. He has always stirred your heart in the way only he could do. You have always loved him.

And you will never stop.

Driven by a desperation you couldn’t name, you found yourself at the secluded dwelling of your great aunt. The air was thick with incense and you knew this would be one of those few days where she could be disturbed from her prayers, and even now, she was a silhouette of stillness, her back to you as she whispered prayers that had been her only companions for sixty years.

You didn't speak. You simply sat behind her and began to pray, the minutes stretching into hours. You watched the way the smoke curled in the air, wondering if your life would be just like hers: sacred, hollow, and hauntingly quiet. You wanted to feel guilty for thinking it look gray, but it was what you were thinking.

When the last of the incense burned out, Äye turned slowly. Her eyes, fill of wisdom and spirit, settled on your face. She didn't see her successor; she saw the crumbling ruins of a girl in love.

“What is it that brings you to this quiet place with such a loud heart?” she asked, her voice both stern and full of concern.

“The medicinal roots in the southern ridge are coming in early this year," you said casually, your voice a dry rasp. “I’m thinking of beginning the harvest before the syaksyuk get to them."

She tilted her head, her eyes sharp and assessing.  “You have been sitting here for five hours, praying to a Mother who has already answered you, yet you refuse to listen. I can see it in your face,” she reached out, tilting your chin up. “What is it? And do not tell me it is the harvest.”

You swallowed hard, the weight in your chest becoming unbearable. “I wanted to ask if... If your heart has ever stirred... For a person, I mean. Not for the Great Mother, nor for the people. For a man.” You paused, your voice trembling. “Have you ever felt... desire?“

You waited for her to look at you as if you’ve grown two heads but she didn’t. The old woman’s eyes softened, a distant. She didn't answer right away, instead, she let her hand fall to your shoulder. “Is that what is clawing at you?”

You looked away, the first tear finally breaking free. “This is my path, Auntie... I have known this my whole life. But... These feelings I have in my heart, I have carried with me long before I knew what it was. I have loved him since we were children. And this man loves me with all he is... I supposed it would be easier if he didn’t love me back. It would be easier to accept the solitary path ahead of me, but now, because he loves me, he will forsake his own duty to the clan just so he could freely love me.” You gripped your knees, your knuckles turned white. “I do not want that for him. I cannot let him be alone and empty, I cannot deny him the love I can give him...“

Äye let out a long, slow breath. “The son of Toruk Makto.”

Your eyes snapped to hers. “How... how did you know?”

A small, knowing smile played on her lips. “I have seen it, and I still see it. You have always had the boy’s eyes, and his heart. You see only now.”

“I am scared,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “I look at the path laid out for me... This life of solitude and it feels like a cage. I want him... I love him. I want to give him myself...” you looked at her. “Is it wrong, Auntie? To want the ground more than the sky? To want a man more than a goddess?”

Äye reached out and cradled your face in her weathered hands.

“Is it truly the path she gave you?” she asked softly. “Eywa does not give paths, child. She simply makes us feel. What you feel here will tell you where you belong.” She smiled, her palm pressing firmly over your heart. “And clearly, your heart has been showing you the path for a very long time.”

You sniffled, leaning into her touch, a flicker of hope sparking in the dark.

“I have easily done my duty because Eywa did not see it fit to put desire in my heart,” Äye confessed, her gaze turning distant and thoughtful. “I walked this path because it was the only one I saw. But, if I had only felt love and desire for another... if I had felt even a fraction of what you described... I would have let it consume me. I would have allowed myself to be loved by someone I loved.” Her expression became fiercer. “It is a gift, child, and you must not deny yourself what Eywa has given you. You must not deny Neteyam the love that you could give him, or the life you two could live. To turn away from such a love is the only true blasphemy.”

“But my father... the clan...” you whispered.

She scoffed. “Do not worry about your father. He is handled,” she said with a small, knowing smirk. “You go to your warrior. Tell him everything you told me.”

The weight that had been crushing your ribs for years had simply evaporated. You hugged her and she patted your back. When you finally stood up, your legs feel so light, as though you were floating. You ran through the village, past the staring eyes of the hunters, straight toward the training grounds where you knew a certain warrior was spending his day.

You didn't care about the path anymore. There has only ever been one for you, and it led straight to him. The sounds of clashing practice staves and rhythmic grunts welcomed you as you reached the training grounds. You stood at the edge of the clearing, thinking about how you have never done this before even though you passed by it every single day. You’ve never even thrown Neteyam a glance when he was over here, so now, you indulged yourself to the sight of his skin glistening with sweat as he moved with lethal grace.

He was giving corrections, his voice commanding and steady, until his gaze swept toward the edge and snagged on you. He stopped mid-sentence and had to do a double look, his golden eyes widening in genuine disbelief. It was always he who sought you out, he who lingered at the edges, waiting for you to pay him attention. And now, to see you standing here, in the open light, was a surprise that seemed to steal the air from his lungs. A slow, radiant smile began to spread across his face, one that he didn't even try to hide.

The other hunters followed his gaze lazily, shocked as Neteyam was to see you standing there, looking only at him. When he signaled for a break, Neteyam practically glided toward you, his focus so intense it felt like he was pulling you toward him by an invisible thread. He opened his mouth to ask what had brought you there, but you didn't give him the chance.

You stepped forward to meet him halfway, reaching up, tagling your fingers in the braids at his nape to pull him down into a soft, lingering kiss.

The silence that fell over the training grounds was almost funny, jaws practically hit the dirt, and Lo’ak who was standing a few yards away dropped his staff, his eyes bulging.

“When will you be done?” you asked casually, your voice clear and steady. Your thumb traced the line of his jaw, grounding him.

Neteyam looked dazed, as if he were caught in a dream and was terrified of waking up. The smile on his face was huge and utterly devoted, it brought ache to your chest. “Now,” he rasped, his voice sounding hypnotized. He didn't even look back at his men. “I’ll finish this early. Right now.”

You let out a melodic chuckle, your palm pressing flat against the heat of his abdomen. “Don’t be silly. I can just wait here,” you said, gesturing toward the wooden benches.

He nodded fervently, his tail twitching with an excitement he couldn't suppress. You couldn't resist, he looked so uncharacteristically flustered and cute that you leaned in for another quick kiss before patting his chest.

“Go,” you whispered, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “I’ll wait.”

Neteyam turned back to his warriors, but the sternness was gone. The men themselves were in a state of total shock, their eyes kept on darting back to where you are. The rest of the training session was a blur and you couldn’t take your eyes on Neteyam, and you’re glad he was the opposite. He was so focused on it, even though he was less strict, the intensity of his approach did not wane.

He dismissed the session right on time, handing his staff to a young hunter and was at your side in a heartbeat, his skin still glistening with sweat. He wiped it off with a soft cloth and you stood up, grabbing the cloth to help him wipe his sweat. “I need you to come with me,” you said, fighting the urge to smirk.

He breathed, catching your hand to graze a thumb on your knuckles. “Where? The forest? The high ridges?”

“Further,” you said, your voice steady despite the flutter in your stomach. You grabbed his hand and his fingers intertwined with yours as naturally as vines coil on a branch.

The walk was surprisingly casual, the air cooling as the forest began its slow transition into the bioluminescent glow of dusk. You stepped over a spike plant and he gripped your hand tighter. “Careful,” he said, hopping over a fallen log and reaching back to steady.

“I am a healer, Neteyam. I know which leaves bite and which ones soothe. If anything, I should be the one worried about you. You almost walked straight into a stickyplant back there because you were too busy looking at me.”

“Can you blame the warrior for admiring the view?” he countered with a cheeky waggle of his brows.

You laughed, nudging his shoulder with yours. “Getting bold, aren’t we? Must be all those pies Tuk didn't eat. I saw her trying to smuggle a third one past Mo’at at dinner last night. She looked like a prolemuris with its cheeks full of fruits.”

“She’s a menace,” he chuckled, his tail flicking with amusement. “The young these days...” he shook his head. “Just last time, I saw a young hunter trying to impress girls by showing off his battle scars. Most of them were from tripping over during drills.”

“Be kind,” you teased. “We were all young and desperate for attention once. Though some of us,” you glanced at him sideways, “didn't have to try quite so hard.”

Neteyam’s smile softened, his fingers tightening around yours. “I don't know about that. I spent half my youth trying to figure out why the smartest girl in the pavilion wouldn't look at me for more than two seconds.”

“I was busy studying!” you protested. “I had to learn the difference between a glow moss and a spice leaf. One heals a burn, the other causes a rash that lasts for three days. Imagine if I'd gotten those mixed up because I was staring at your growing muscles.”

“A tragedy for the clan,“ he joked, pulling you by the waist and pressing a kiss against your neck. “But a win for my ego,” he whispered.

You squealed and pulled away, running away from him. You heard him chuckle, chasing after you until you two reached the purple glow of the ancient sacred tree. You looked at him with a soft smile and he stared at you, his eyes softening into a reverent look as he savored the look of you bathed in purple light

“It is beautiful tonight,” he whispered, reaching out to caressed your jaw.

“It is,” you agreed, tiptoeing to kiss him again, your arms hooking on his nape.

His hands immediately wrapped around your waist, pulling you close to him as he deepened the kiss, his mouth devouring yours. You pulled him down with you onto the soft moss, laying back so he’d follow you. You spread your thighs and he settled his body between them, breaking away from the kiss as if he’d just noticed what position you had pulled him into under the sacred tree.

You smiled, leaning in to press a slow, deep kiss to his lips, “I love you, Neteyam...” you whispered as if it was your secret, kissing him again.

His head lifted, his lips curling into a small, yet triumphant, smile. “I love you more, baby. So much,” he said, his arm wrapping around you to pull you to him. “What’s going on?” he asked.

You smiled and kissed him again, you didn't let him break away, and as your hands moved to his shoulders, the kiss deepened. You could feel the frantic beat of his heart against your chest. You pulled back just an inch, your eyes locked onto his, and then, with a hand that didn't tremble, you reached back and brought your queue forward. Neteyam’s eyes snapped at your kuru, widening a fraction in a surprise so profound he actually moved back an inch.

“My love...” he rasped, his voice breaking. He looked from your kuru to your eyes, his face pale but his eyes dancing with joy.

You kissed him. “I want to be with you. I want to be your mate... I want to have your children...”

His smile widened, though his eyes still needed more answers. “Are you sure? Once this is done... there is no turning back to the path they chose for you. You will be mine. In the eyes of Eywa and the clan, you will be mine for life.”

“I have never been more sure of anything,” you whispered, reaching out to take his hand. “The path I chose isn't the one they gave me. It’s this. It’s you.”

Neteyam’s hand was shaking as he brought his own queue forward. The intensity of the moment was suffocating, a silence so heavy it felt like the ancestors themselves were holding their breath. “I love you so much,” he said, the words a solemn vow. “You have me, until my last breath. You have always had me, baby.”

Slowly, deliberately, the pink tendrils of your queues reached out, entwining and locking together. You gasped, your back arching when a flood of physical sensations surged through you. You felt the raw, unbridled power of Neteyam’s love for you. The years of pining, the quiet agony of watching you from afar, the fierce protectiveness, and the sheer, blinding joy of this moment. And he felt yours. The fear you had felt, the desperate need for his touch, and the struggle you fought that led to this absolute certainty that you belonged by his side.

Neteyam let out a choked sound, pulling you flush against him, his arms wrapping around you with a strength that promised he would never, ever let go. You kissed him until you were both breathless, then his lips trailed down your jaw, making you arch into his touch as a low moan rumbled in your throat. Your hands found purchase in his braids, pulling his head back up, your gaze locking with his.

“Are we doing it?” you asked, your eyes looking up at him in both apprehension and excitement.

He caressed your thigh. “Do you want to? It doesn’t need to be tonight—”

“No, I want to! I want to... Just...” you cleared your throat. “I mean you’re big and... And how did the other girls take this—”

“What?” he whisper-shouted playfully. “There have never been other girls. I’ve never kissed anyone before you...” His eyes looked away from yours to look at your lips.

“What?” you chuckled breathily, the scholar part of you panicking. “No one here knows what to do?”

“No, I do know what to do,” he said, his eyes widening a little. “Trust me.“

You smiled and reached up to kiss him, he met you halfway, his mouth descending, but hungry now, no longer sweet and hesitant. His tongue plunged and you met his fervor, your own tongue dancing with his. His hands moved, tracing the curve of your hips, his thumbs brushing against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, sending a jolt of pleasure through you as you felt the hard ridge of his cock press against your thigh.

Your fingers fumbled with the straps of his loincloth, your fingers caressing the soft skin of his abdomen. He undid your own, hands quick and deft, discarding the simple covering the same time you shed his. His fingers found your slippery folds, caressing it as he kisses your jaw. Your hand shot down to wrap around his cock, caressing the thick and long flesh.

He huffed, his lips pressing against your cheek before he leaned down, his mouth finding your neck, his teeth gently nipping at where you’re most sensitive. You whimpered, your head falling back against the moss. His tongue traced a path down your throat, over your collarbone, until it reached the swell of your breast. He suckled, his mouth hot and wet, drawing your nipple into his mouth.

Your hips arched involuntarily. “Neteyam,” you gasped, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer.

He moved to your other breast, giving it equal attention before kissing his way down your body until you felt a long swipe of his tongue on the soft skin of your inner thigh. His fingers brushed against your slick pussy, followed by his warm tongue, sending a shockwave of pleasure through your core, his hands slid under your hips to tilt you toward him before his mouth lapped at your wetness like a man starved.

You clutched on a moss, letting yourself moan to your heart’s content until you were a shaking mess with a spinning vision. You can feel his lips and tongue working its way up your body but your mind was zeroing in on the electrifying sensation you’re feeling on your clit, your thighs jolting every time his skin grazes it.

Only when he positioned himself between your legs did you make the effort to lift you head up to look at him, catching him with his eyes darkened with desire as they devoured your nakedness. Your connected kurus pulsed brighter and you felt the jolt of excitement and ecstasy he is probably feeling. You bit your lip, looking at his cock, thick and heavy, pressing against your entrance. You looked up at him, your own eyes burning with desire, and he met your gaze, his lips curved in a small smile and his eyes suddenly became the look of longing and adoration.

“Ready?” he asked, his voice rough with need.

“Yes,” you gasped, pushing your hips up, urging him forward. “Now.”

He chuckled, his hand squeezing your hips before he thrusted, slowly at first, his thick shaft pushing past your eager lips, stretching you, filling you with a sensation so profound it stole your breath. You cried out, a mixture of pain and pleasure, as he pushed deeper, until he was fully buried inside you.

He paused, letting you adjust, his chest heaving, his eyes closed for a moment in pure bliss. “It feels so warm... So tight,” he groaned, his voice thick with emotion.

You hugged him, a little breathless at the feeling of being so full of him and yet, you pulled him deeper still. “You’re so big...” you groaned, clenching around him.

He opened his eyes and you saw a primal look in them as he began to move, slowly at first, a gentle motion that soon picked up pace. He pulled almost all the way out, then plunged back in, his rhythm becoming more urgent, more demanding.

“Ah!” you moaned, your body arching, meeting his thrusts with equal enthusiasm. The sounds of your skin slapping together and the wet sounds of him moving inside you filled the air.

One of his hand found your folds, his thumb parting them to flick at your sensitive nub, making you buck and pull away in overstimulation but he only leaned down, his lips finding yours to devour your cries, his tongue plunging into your mouth as his hips continued its relentless rhythm. His hands gripped your hips to lift and tilt you, finding new angles that gave you so much pleasure. His cock felt enormous inside you, stretching you to your limits, yet it was a delicious fullness, a sense of being completely claimed.

The gentle rocking turned into powerful, rhythmic thrusts, his body slamming into yours with increasing force as you felt a familiar feeling in your lower abdomen, a knot that promised release. You clawed at his back, your nails digging into his firm muscles, leaving faint red marks.

“Harder,” you gasped against his lips, your voice hoarse. “Please, baby...”

He responded instantly, his thrusts becoming even more violent, more primal. He pulled out almost entirely, then slammed back in with a force that made you scream, the air whooshing out of your mouth.

“You like that, baby?” he rasped, his voice raw, his breath hot against your face.

You whimpered, unable to speak, your hips bucking involuntarily to meet his every thrust. You felt your muscles clenched around his shaft, milking him, urging him on. He groaned and thrusted one last, powerful time, burying himself to the hilt, holding you tight as your body convulsed around him. Your climax hit you like a lightning strike, giving you a full body tremor that left you breathless and clutching at him. Your muscles seized, squeezing his cock, making him cry out your name.

His body tensed, then relaxed as he emptied himself deep inside you. You felt the hot gush of his seed filling you as he collapsed onto you, his weight heavy but welcome, his breath ragged against your neck. His heart hammered against your chest, mirroring the frantic beat of your own. You lay tangled together, spent and satisfied, the purple glow of the tree a silent witness to your mating.

“I swear to the Great Mother, if this were a dream I’d beat up the person who will wake me up,” he whispered breathily, kissing you.

You chuckled weakly, hugging him tighter to you and kissing his cheek. “It is real, husband. I am here with you,” you told him.

He melted in your embrace, kissing your forehead, and then your lips. “I love you so much...”

A few hours of sleep punctuated with a series of waking up only to make love later, you lay tangled in Neteyam’s arms under the glowing tendrils,  your core still sore from the intensity of your last coupling. His chest was warm under your cheek, and you traced the faint, drying marks your nails had left on his shoulder. Neteyam shifted, his tail winding lazily around your thigh.

“The sun will be up soon,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, his hand tracing the curve of your hip with a new, possessive ease. You let out a soft sigh, tightening your hold on him. Neteyam pulled back slightly to look at you, his golden eyes clear and filled with a fierce, protective light. “I’ll face your father. I’ll tell him it was my doing. The haste, the lack of a formal ceremony. I’ll take the weight of his anger.”

You shook your head, reaching up to cup his face. “No. I made this choice just as much as you did. I won’t let you stand there like a criminal for loving me. I’ll handle him, and Äye said she would help. I’m more worried about Mo’at... I am a healer under her. Surely, she’d expect me to follow the traditions.”

“Then we face them together,” Neteyam said firmly, interlocking his fingers with yours. “As one. We are mated now. I am your husband and you are my wife.”

Those words brought you so much relief and joy, you couldn’t help but smile, especially when his eyes reflected a certain, even smug, light in them. The walk back to the village felt different, but as you approached the central clearing of the Hometree, the sight of the gathering made your heart skip a beat.

Not only were your parents already there, Jake and Neytiri were there, too, standing near the breakfast hearth, and beside them sat Mo'at and Äye. The air was thick with the smell of morning broth and an unspoken tension. Your father stood as you both emerged from the ramp, his eyes immediately dropping to your clasped hands and then to the unmistakable, glowing pride in Neteyam’s posture.

“You did not return last night,” your father said, his voice flat but not yet angry.

Äye, who was calmly sipping from a bowl of tea, let out a dry chuckle. “Oh, let the children breathe, Laykon. Do not overreact. Look at them, they look like they’ve finally found where the air is.”

Neteyam didn't hesitate. He stepped forward, gently releasing your hand only to sink onto both knees before your parents. He bowed his head low, his forehead nearly touching the ground in a gesture of profound respect and apology.

“I ask for your forgiveness,” Neteyam’s voice was calm, carrying the weight of a leader. “I have acted with haste, and I have taken your daughter as my mate without the formal blessing of the clan. But I have loved her before I even I understood what it was. I ask only for your blessing now, for I will spend every day of my life proving I am worthy of her.”

You dropped to your knees beside him, your shoulder touching his. “Father, I love Neteyam, I have always loved him. This wasn't a mistake or a moment of weakness. It was the only truth I’ve ever known. I choose this life. I choose him.”

A long, suffocating silence followed. Jake looked at Neytiri, who had a soft, knowing expression on her face, one that spoke of a woman who had once made a similarly reckless choice for love. Finally, your father let out a long, heavy breath. He stepped forward and placed a hand on Neteyam’s shoulder, urging him to stand.

“I understand that, daughter,” he told you, his voice softening. “And I do not think this kneeling and bowing are necessary anymore. Words would have sufficed. You two are already mated in the eyes of the Great Mother; what is there for me to do? To fight the wind?” He looked at Neteyam, a rare, genuine smile breaking through his stony exterior. “It is my honor to have an honorable man as my son.”

Neytiri stepped forward then, pulling you into a fierce, warm embrace that smelled of woodsmoke and motherhood. “Welcome to the family, daughter,” she whispered.

You looked toward Mo’at, your stomach twisting with nerves. The Tsahik stood slowly, her face unreadable. Jake cleared his throat, glancing at the matriarch. “Mo’at? Perhaps, you can... give them the official blessing?”

Mo’at let out a sharp, huffed breath, reaching into the woven pouch at her side. To everyone’s surprise, she pulled out a bowl of ceremonial oils and a bundle of sage that had clearly been prepared in advance.

“Why do you think I am sitting here with these?” she asked, a rare humot flickering in her eyes as she looked at Äye. “Some people in this family cannot keep a secret. Come here, you two. If you are going to be mated, let us do it properly so the ancestors don’t think I’ve gone lazy.”

As Mo'at began the rhythmic chant of the blessing, marking your forehead and Neteyam’s with the cool, fragrant oil, you looked at your husband. The fear was gone. The gray path etched on sand was blown by the wind, leaving only the path forged by the Great Mother.

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

The council meeting had dragged on for hours, with the elders debating trade with so much meticulousness that Neteyam can’t believe it’s starting to annoy him that the second Jake signaled the end, Neteyam couldn’t have exited the council hall faster than anyone. He moved through the village with a restless, joyful energy, his heart pulling him straight to the healer’s tent.

And when he pulled back the flap, the golden afternoon light spilled over you, hunched over a mortar, the same sight that had greeted him for years, but now, strapped to your chest in a soft woven wrap was your months-old son.

“Hello, baby,” Neteyam caressed your arm, leaning down to kiss you. He cupped your jaw and deepened the kiss.

You’d chucke at his eagerness if your son hadn’t let out a soft, melodic cry. It was as if he could sense his father has arrived before Neteyam even greeted him. Neteyam looked down at his son, his large hand caressing the boy’s head.

His face split by a wide, devoted grin. His large hands gently lift the bundle from your chest and you gave him his son, watching him settle the boy into the crook of his arm, his thumb tracing a tiny, rounded cheek. “How was he? Did he give you trouble while I was on patrol?”

You chuckled, wiping your hands on a cloth. “He is just a baby, ma ‘teyam. He slept almost the entire day, only waking to eat and then falling back to sleep.”

Neteyam let out a deep, vibrating chuckle that made the baby’s eyes fly open. “You’re the hungriest boy in this village, do you know that, hm? The biggest baby, too. You’re growing so fast, my son, look at you.”

You leaned against the worktable, watching them with a chest full of warmth. You reached out to tickle your son’s ear, watching his tiny shoulder shrug in reflex. “Remember when Mo’at said you were the biggest baby she’d ever seen?” you laughed. “She said your boy rivals you. Look at his tummy. So full, aren't you, sweet boy?”

The baby suddenly let out a tiny, gurgling chuckle, his first real laugh.

Your eyes snapped to Neteyam’s in shock. You both froze, breath held for seconds, before you both bursted into a quiet laughter. The boy stretched, his chubby limbs sprawled across his father's powerful arm, looking utterly content. As you looked at the small person you had created together, your eyes began to glisten with unshed tears and when you lifted your eyes to meet Neteyam’s his own eyes were pooling with tears.

Neteyam leaned in, his forehead resting against yours. “Have I told you how thankful I am that you chose me?”

You grinned, cupping his face. “You do every day, 'teyam. But I am more thankful to you. I couldn't imagine not living this life... you made me realize what I truly wanted.”

“I love you so much,” he mumbled against your lips.

“I love you more, ‘teyam—”

“That couldn't be possible—”

“Uhhmp!” A sharp, demanding shriek from your son broke the moment. His tiny hand had clamped onto your beaded top, his neck craning with singular focus toward your chest.

You laughed, booping his nose. “Hungry again?“

Your smile was huge as you reached for him. Neteyam gently handed him back, chuckling as you settled the boy and eased your top aside. The baby latched in an instant, a rhythmic, quiet sound filling the tent. Neteyam sat beside you, his gaze fixed on the sight.

For nearly a year, this silent alcove, a little over a short walk from the central communal areas, had been your sanctuary, your secret. It was here that you and Neteyam usually meet, your bodies finding a language words could not articulate, or perhaps, refused to.

You arched into him, your hips instinctively grinding against his. You wanted more. You needed more. Your fingers tangled in his braids, pulling, urging him closer, deeper. Your bodies slapped together, producing a wet sound that aroused him even more. You clenched around him, milking him. He pressed his forehead against yours, his breathing heavy, his eyes drifting down to your lips, and for a moment you saw fustration and longing in the depths of his eyes before he closed it and moved his face away to bury it in your neck. You felt the muscles in his back bunch and released with each powerful stroke.

“Oh, Neteyam...” you moaned weakly, holding onto him tightly.

“Good, baby?” he asked, driving into your harder and faster, his hips slamming against yours.

You nodded frantically, your cries mingling with his guttural grunts. Your body convulsed, a wave of intense pleasure seizing you, squeezing him tight. He groaned and then, with a final thrust, he spilled his seed deep inside you, his body shuddering against yours. He collapsed onto you, his weight heavy, his breath ragged.

He stayed there for a long moment, catching his breath and kissing your skin both at the same time. Then, he shifted, pulling out slowly, caressing your waist up to your breast when you mewled at the sudden emptiness, but he soon rolled off you, pulling a soft hide from his satchel to gently, almost tenderly, clean you before wiping himsef. He helped you sit up, pulling your top back over your shoulders and fixing your braids, his movements a strange mix of detachment and care.

He stood, gathering his things. The quick, efficient way he dressed, the lack of lingering, it was all part of the routine. The routine he had established, the one you had agreed to, the one that now felt like a suffocating blanket. He turned, his golden eyes, usually so intense, now held a detached warmth. "You’re staying again?" he asked, his voice low, still thick with arousal.

You rolled your eyes and shrugged, looking at whatever but him.

He stood there for so long before nodding. “I’ll get going then... Don’t take too long.”

Then, he was gone then, a shadow lost into the deeper shadows, leaving you alone, the lingering scent of him and the phantom ache between your legs the only evidence of what had transpired. You lay back, staring up at the jagged ceiling, a hollowness settling in your chest that no amount of physical release could fill. That night, you told yourself that was how you wanted it too: rough, animalistic, no strings, no complications. You repeated it like a mantra, trying to convince yourself that nothing mattered, that the yearning for a kiss, for something more, was just a foolish, fleeting emotion.

Your body still craved his, the raw, uninhibited release he offered. But something had shifted within you. The fierce, rough intimacy that once satisfied you now felt…incomplete. You watched him, a warrior among warriors, strong, capable, his laughter echoing across the communal fire, and a tenderness you had sworn to suppress bloomed in your chest.

You love him.

The realization had come slowly, like a vine wrapping itself around your heart, tightening with each passing day. You love his quiet strength, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, the kindness he showed to the younger clan members. And now, the "no kissing" rule felt like a cruel barrier, a constant reminder of the emotional wall he built between you two.

Tonight, the air thrummed with a different kind of energy. Festivities. The harvest had been bountiful and the hunt successful. Laughter and music spilled from the Hometree’s communal clearing, mingling with the aroma of roasted food and sweet fruits. You sat by the large fire, among the boisterous circle of your fellow hunters and warriors, a leaf of honeyed hexapede that Neteyam gave you sitting on your lap.

You picked at the meat, the sweetness dancing on your tongue. The sounds of the celebration washed over you as Lo'ak, ever the instigator, had started a game of truth or dare. Your eyes uncontrollably flitted to Neteyam, catching him watching you from where he is, and your felt the urge to roll your eyes away to look at Lo’ak, but not before seeing how surprised Neteyam is with that little gesture.

"Truth or dare!" he bellowed, his voice carrying over the din. "Who dares to be honest, or bold?"

Your eyes flitted back to him again, catching him still looking at you with a ghost of smile on his lips. A ripple of excitement went through the group. You watched, chewing slowly on the hexapede, awaiting which couple will Lo’ak pair up like he did in the past. A group of young huntresses pushed at Sylweyn, making her laugh and give in to their encouragement.

"Sylweyn!" Lo'ak's voice boomed, carrying above the laughter and cheers. "Truth or Dare?"

Sylweyn, a lithe huntress with eyes that sparkled with mischief, grinned, her white teeth flashing. "Dare! Always dare!"

Lo'ak's grin widened. "I dare you to kiss the man you want to… fuck." He emphasized the last word with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows, eliciting more laughter and hoots.

A hush fell over the circle, a collective anticipation. Sylweyn’s gaze swept across the faces, lingering for a moment on a few, then, with a confident, almost predatory smile, she fixed on Neteyam. He stood taller and broader than the others, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched nonchalantly.

Sylweyn moved with a fluid grace, her hips swaying subtly. She stopped in front of Neteyam, her eyes, dark and alluring, meeting his. He looked down at her and you couldn’t tell what he was thinking. He was always polite to others and now, you can see how his facial expression didn’t change. He didn't move, didn't stoop, didn't offer to meet her halfway.

Sylweyn giggled anyway, a low, throaty sound that made the blood pound in your ears. She rose onto the tips of her toes, her hands reaching up to cup his face. She stretched and kissed him. It was a chaste kiss, quick, a brush of lips, but it was a kiss nonetheless. A kiss he had denied you countless times.

A spasm, sharp and painful, gripped your heart. You looked down at your leaf, at the glistening piece of honeyed hexapede. You picked it up, putting it in your mouth, but you couldn't chew. The sweetness turned to ash as you tried to smile along with their cheers. You swallowed, a dry, agonizing gulp, there’s pain in your chest that makes it impossible to breathe properly. The laughter and cheers from the circle seemed to mock you, amplifying the sharp, internal ache.

Lo’ak quickly moved on, oblivious of the turmoil brewing within you. "Savko!" he called out, his voice cutting through the lingering laughter and cheers. "Your turn, brother! Truth or dare?"

Savko, a broad-shouldered hunter known for his prowess and quiet confidence, grinned. "Dare. Can’t risk any of you learning my secrets.“

"Alright!" Lo'ak clapped his hands together, his eyes glinting. "Same dare. I dare you to kiss the woman you want to… fuck in this circle!"

Another wave of anticipation rippled through the gathering as you tried to break the meat into smaller pieces, trying to quell the tremors in your hands, the searing pain in your chest. You heard the shuffling of feet, the murmurs, but you kept your gaze fixed on the food now, pretending to be busy.

Then, a shadow fell over you. The scent of damp leaves and something uniquely masculine, not Neteyam’s, filled your nostrils. You lifted your head. It was Savko. He stood over you, his tall frame blocking the firelight, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled. He was one of the clan's most skilled hunters, his reputation well-earned. There was also no denying he was good-looking, a competent man in his own right, though your heart had never stirred for him as it did for Neteyam.

"Hi," he greeted, his voice a low rumble, a pleasant sound that brought a blush to your cheeks despite yourself.

You tilted your head, your lips parting slightly, a silent acknowledgement.

"I'll kiss you," he said, his gaze steady. "Can I?"

Your lips parted further. You were no longer thinking, you felt as though your mind had been clouded with smoke, too focused on the ache in your chest. You simply shrug, a small, involuntary movement of your shoulders. The world felt distant and unreal. Neteyam’s kiss with Sylweyn gnawed at your chest. It all boiled down into a strange apathy. What did it matter?

Savko took your shrug as an invitation. The circle cheered as he knelt, gracefully, his hand reaching out, his hand gently cupping your jaw. He tilted your head up. His eyes, so close now, held a surprising tenderness. You expected a quick, chaste peck, like Neteyam's with Silwey, a mere brush of lips for the sake of the dare. But Savko lingered.

He lowered his head slowly, his eyes still locked with yours. His breath, warm and sweet, ghosted over your mouth. Then his lips met yours, soft at first, a gentle pressure. He didn’t rush. He tilted his head, deepening the kiss, his mouth opening slightly, inviting you in. A small whimper escaped your throat, a sound of surprise, of something akin to yearning. You felt the soft insistence of his tongue against your lips, a tentative exploration.

Your lips parted further, a hesitant response. It was a kiss, a real kiss, different from the rough, unkissed encounters you shared with Neteyam. You felt a flicker of something warm, unfurling in your chest, momentarily overshadowing the pain. You almost moved to kiss him back, to see what this might feel like, to finally experience the intimacy you craved.

But then, a sudden, violent yank. Savko was torn away from you, a guttural growl erupting from somewhere above. The kiss broke abruptly, leaving your lips tingling, your mind reeling but you were still able to hear the gasps and surprised screams of those around you.

"No one said anything about you eating her face up, brother." Deep and laced with an unfamiliar fury, Neteyam’s voice was heard. The action looked so sudden, so brutal, that a wave of panic washed over you. You scrambled to your feet, your eyes wide.

Neteyam held Savko by the nape of his neck. Savko's feet even lifted off the ground for a moment from the aggressiveness of it. Neteyam’s face was a mask of cold rage, his lips pulled back to show his fang.

"It's alright," you said, your voice trembling, a desperate plea as you looked at Neteyam. "Let him go."

He released Savko with a violent shove, sending the hunter almost stumbling. Neteyam didn't spare Savko another glance. His head snapped towards you, his eyes locking onto yours. The look he gave you was sharp, almost as though you had betrayed him, stabbed him through the heart. Something hard in his eyes intensified, now mixed with what looked like hurt that twisted your gut.

The warmth from Savko's kiss vanished. Don’t think too much into this, you told yourself. Neteyam didn't want you, not truly. But he didn't want anyone else to have you either. You felt a wave of nausea, the honeyed hexapede you ate threatening to rise. You eased back down, sinking onto your heels. You looked away, your eyes fixed on the dancing flames, wishing they would swallow you whole.

Lo’ak clapped and hooted. “Hoo! My brother, the perfect soldier, as always. Looking after our huntresses, very protective, just in case the kiss going further than necessary was uncalled for,“ he grinned at you. “You okay?” he asked, his voice a little serious now as he threw his brother a confused glance.

You nodded. “Yeah. And it wasn’t uncalled for,” you said, glancing at Savko who had returned to his seat now.

He looked so apologetic even though he had done nothing wrong that you also felt a bit of shame and guilt for reasons you can’t pinpoint. The heat of Neteyam’s gaze pricked at your skin from where he is but you didn’t look his way. You resolved to talk to Savko after the festivities, not about the kiss but about what happened after. The poor lad was probably thinking you felt violated because of Neteyam’s reaction. Unfortunately, when the game was over, Savko faded into the throng of Omatikayas in the center of the clearing, and you lost sight of him altogether as the night went on.

You were drinking from a cup of fermented wine when you felt a hand on your elbow, and before you could even turn your head to see who it was, you were already pulled into a dark alcove of the communal clearing. The familiar smell told you it was Neteyam and you pulled your elbow back, shaking his hand off.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice deep and thick with emotion.

Your forehead creased. “Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

“He kissed you,“ he pointed out. Even though it was dimmed, you could see how angry he still is, he’s practically vibrating with it.

You stared at him. You can’t believe this. You can’t believe him. It both angered and hurt you to see such a strong reaction from him over that. “I said it was alright. I’m a grown woman and it's not like he forced me.”

He let out a breath that sounded like it was laced with frustration. “So, that's how it is? You're going to allow random men to kiss you if they asked—”

The crease between your brows deepen. Where is this coming from? “I don’t understand and I don’t know what you're talking about. Why is this an issue?” you asked. You would never dare jump into a conclusion that he's jealous because he would never be.

“You are mine, that’s what,“ he said, his hand found your forearm but you evaded it.

The confirmation of you earlier thoughts was cruel but there it was, sending a blow of ache in your chest without your approval. You were right. He didn't want you in any way close to his heart but he also doesn't want other men playing with what's his. It’s all about him and what he feels you shouldn’t do in respect of him.

You tilted your head. “Look,“ you glanced back to the festivities. “Sylweyn also kissed you—”

“I didn't allow her to kiss me—”

“Not explicitly, no, but there was barely any refusal at all. So still, she kissed you, didn’t she? But I won’t make an issue of it, I don’t see the need to,” you said, your pride taking over, refusing to let him know how much that kiss had hurt you.

He closed fhe distance between you two, his ears were pinned back against his head and his eyes intense on you. “Make an issue of it then. Yell at me. Tell me that it made you furious. Do not—“

“Why would I do that?“ you cut him off. “We’re both free to do what we want, aren’t we?”

He stared at you, “Huh. Is this your way of telling me you’re going there with Savko?” He looks so mad now and if you were in a better headspace, you would have celebrated already.

You rolled your eyes. “Do I need to tell you?“ you asked. “I don't think you would have thought of consulting me if you happen to fuck Sylweyn one of these days—”

His hand grabbed your forearm and in truth, you expected him to press or hold you tight, but his hold was light, gentle even in his rage. “I’m not going there with her. And you. are. not. going to start anything with Savko either,“ his deep voice grated, telling you how much he's struggling to bite his words to lower his voice down.

Your back hit the rough bark of one of the Hometree’s large columns, he was so close you could feel him trembling with all his emotions. You sighed, pressing a hand against his chest to push him away and his eyes, so intently focused on you drifted down to your hand. His other hand moved up to hold it but you already withdraw yours, leaving him chasing for it but you hid it behind you and balled your hand into a fist.

“Don’t speak too soon, Neteyam. She seems to really like you, what was Lo’ak’s words? Kiss the person you want to fuck,” you kept your lips parted to taunt him and his lips stayed there for a moment before it lifted up to meet yours. “Too tempting?”

You hated pushing him to Sylweyn, but at the same time... You also don't want to wait for him to discard you for her. You'd instigate it now while you can still do it.

He bared his fangs silently, though, his lips pulled back tightly. “Were you tempted? With Savko? Is that what you're saying?”

What a thick head this man has. He’s completely missing the point!

“I don’t know,“ you looked back at the gathering, spotting Sylweyn craning her neck as if she's looking for someone. Your eyes darkened and annoyance rose in you, but your eyes drifted back to Neteyam and caught him staring at your face. You smirked, crossing an arm, “See, she's looking for you.”

His brows furrowed. “What?”

You stepped out of the dark, “Sylweyn! Sister!” you called in a sweet voice, waving your hand in the air, catching her attention right away. “Are you looking for Neteyam? He's here!”

You heard a loud groan behind you but you already walked away, only looking back to see Sylweyn catching up to Neteyam who was still looking at you with a sulking face plastered on and eyes that promised punishment.

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

“Focus,” you said, your voice cutting through the morning stillness. “The arrow won’t hit its mark if your mind wanders. Feel the wood. Feel the string.” You demonstrated, drawing the bowstring back, holding it steady before releasing. The arrow flew burying itself deep in the woven target.

A ripple of murmurs went through the group. You watched their attempts, correcting stances, adjusting grips. Neteyam moved among them, too, his own movements silent and fluent, but he he hasn’t spoken a word to anyone. He grunts or grumbles every time his trainees make a mistake, one would think he’s swallowed his tongue. His jaw was perpetually tight and his scowl deepened with every passing moment.

When the training was done, you stayed behind to take care of the bows, putting them all back in its place, while Savko lingered to pluck all the arrows from the woven targets, collecting them. He caught your eye, a slow, knowing smile spreading across his lips. You offered a small, almost imperceptible nod, before turning around to grab the bows behind you.

Neteyam’s breath hitched, his eyes narrowing at Savko before they followed your moving form, watching you move gracefully like a sun lily blown by the wind, and a sudden ache pierced his chest, mingling with his earlier irritation. It’s been days since you two last talked and he’s counted the times you spared him a glance in those days, which is zero, and he knows because his eyes had always been on you whenever you're around.

He moved without thinking, his long strides devouring the distance between them. He stopped beside Savko, his shadow falling over the hunter’s face. “I’ll finish that, brother,” Neteyam’s voice, low and resonant, vibrated with a suppressed fury. “You can go.” He held out a hand, palm open.

Savko's smile faltered, replaced by a flicker of defiance. He glanced at your back, still angled away, then back to Neteyam’s unyielding face. He slowly placed the arrow into Neteyam’s waiting hand, his shoulders slumping. He strode away, and Neteyam turned to the quivers, his movements deliberate. Each arrow he pulled free, he placed into the storage rack with a resounding thud that echoed through the quiet clearing. One. Two. Three... Each thud was punctuated by heavy sighs, each one more loaded than the last.

You finished arranging the last of the practice bows, rubbing your palms together, the dust of the wood still clinging to your skin. You turned and realized that the training grounds had emptied, leaving you and Neteyam alone. You grimaced as a sharp pang of bitterness twisted in you, remembering the last few nights you spent crying over the kiss he shared with Sylweyn. The act in itself wouldn’t have made you so bitter if he hadn’t denied you what he had freely given Sylweyn. You let out a sharp huff, blinking away the fresh wave of heat in your eyes, turning on your heels to quietly leave.

Neteyam’s eyes, dark and stormy, fixed on your back. “Planning to meet Savko?” His words, sharp and laced with mockery, sliced through the air.

Your forehead furrowed. The sheer audacity of his tone ignited a spark of irritation. “You seem to be projecting, ma ‘teyam. Why? Have you met with Sylweyn?”

His steps ate up the space between you in a matter of seconds but you didn’t budge, still looking at him with a taunting glint in your eyes. “Why would I meet her?”

You crossed your arms. “I don’t know, maybe fuck her behind thickets,” you said, your voice low and laced with a sweetness you didn’t feel. “You’re good at that.”

A low hiss escaped him. Once again, he’s vibrating with anger and since you have shooed the heavy clouds looming over your head away, you’re now able to relish in his frustration. “I have only ever been with you. I have never slept with other women—”

“Yet,” you cut him off.

His eyes flared. “Don’t hold your breath waiting for it to happen because it won’t,“ his large hand touched your forearm, light as a feather, sending goosebumps prickling across your skin. “You are the only one…” He trailed off, his fingers moving up your arm softly, tracing a path that ignited a different kind of heat, warring with your anger.

“Yeah,” you scoffed, pulling your arm from his touch. “The easiest girl in the clan. The most convenient hole for your frustrations—”

“Do not say that!” His voice came out hard and tight. His eyes, usually a calming gold, now burned with an intensity that made your breath catch.

You met his gaze, refusing to back down. “I wonder why, Neteyam? Can’t they make your cock as hard as I can?”

"Is that what you think this is? You think I come to you because you’re easy? Because you're convenient?"

Even the words sound ridiculous to you. He is Neteyam, everyone knows he could have anyone he wants without lifting a finger. Surely, if there were a race to see who could shed their loincloth the fastest for him, you definitely wouldn't be placing first, yet here he is, standing in front of you. You pushed these thoughts at the back of your mind, though, keeping hold of your anger.

"Isn't it?" you shot back, stepping into his space, your chest nearly brushing his. "You get everything you want from me. You get the release, you get the secrecy, and then you get to walk away and be the honorable warrior everyone expects you to be. Meanwhile, I'm just the girl who knows exactly how loud the Golden Son can groan when he loses control."

Neteyam’s jaw clench, ears pulled back, and his tail lashed behind him with the violent whip-crack of a predator pushed to its limit. "Stop," he warned.

"Why? Does the truth make you uncomfortable?" You let out a mocking laugh, poking a finger hard into the center of his chest. "Here’s your no complications, Neteyam. I’m giving it to you. So, I don’t understand why you are being territorial where there are no territories to stake your claim. We want pleasure and we get pleasure, from anyone—”

A primal sound escaped his throat, something between a snarl and a groan. His hands clamped around your waist, pulling you against him. “If you want pleasure, I will give it to you. Don't you dare say you can find this anywhere else. No other man can make you come apart the way I do."

You pushed him away, but he didn't budge, which is not surprising because it was a reluctant push. You felt his hand moved further south until it reached your ass. He lifted you easily and you pushed at him, but still wrapped your legs around his waist, your inner thighs squeezing his hips. In frantic movements, he carried you a few steps behind an alcove that hides you two from view, your back hitting the bark of an ancient column. Your loincloth was already riding high, his insistent hard-on grinding against your wetness, sending jolts of pleasure through your core.

He lowered his head down and for a moment you thought he’d go for your neck but he was aiming for you lips! You were able to move your head to the side, his lips landing inches away from your mouth. He hissed and you hissed back, his eyes met yours before his head dropped to your neck, his teeth scraping over your skin, a possessive bite that made you gasp.

“You are mine,” he rasped against your neck, his words hot, his tongue tracing the delicate curve of your neck up to yours ear. “Only mine.”

Your hips bucked against his, a silent challenge. “I’m not."

He pulled back, his eyes blazing, a dangerous glint in their depths. He merely put his loincloth aside, pulling his already aroused cock before his fingers, calloused and strong, moved the crotch of your own. A deep groan vibrated in his chest when he found you already wet, his fingers sliding across your folds.

“You’re so wet, baby...” he rasped, his voice thick with lust.

You rolled your eyes. “It’s almost as if my body would react this way to anyone touching me,“ you countered, your palms flat on his chest, pushing him back, when his face moved closer to yours again.

He stared at you, the air around him seemed to solidify, the anger vibrating off his skin seemed so tangible you could almost touch it. His eyes darkened with a sudden, sharp menace that made your pulse jump. You felt him hold his cock under you before easily maneuvering your body so he could rub the head against your slippery folds, a tantalizing drag that made you arch your back, your breath hitching.

“Too bad, then? Because there will be no one before me and no one after. They can try, but they won’t be successful... Unless they’re looking for an early meeting with Eywa.”

He pushed inside you in a single thrust, filling you and claiming you. You cried out, a mix of pain and pleasure, your nails digging into his shoulders. You scratched him, leaving reddened marks and you heard him chuckle. He didn’t even bother covering your mouth, uncaring about who hears you, especially when a string of moans uncontrollably escaped you as he delivers a series of punishing thrusts without waiting for you to adjust to his girth. He pulled out almost entirely, then plunged back in, a hard, deep thrust that made your head loll back against the bark, your eyes closing.

“Look at me,” he commanded, his voice a low growl.

You opened your eyes, meeting his fierce gaze with a glare. His other arm wrapped behind you, his hand holding your nape before delivering relentless thrusts, pounding into you with a force that promised you’ll feel him between your legs tonight as you sleep. Each thrust was a declaration and a punishment, but somewhere along, a desperate plea for something. Your pussy gripped him, tight and wet, milking every inch of his cock. The wet sounds of flesh meeting flesh, your moans and his groans filled the alcove.

At some point, you’d bitten your lip to stop your moans, but he lowered his head, bending at the waist to put one of your breasts in his mouth, sucking at your nipple hard, knowing what it does to you. A guttural moan tore at your throat, your legs wrapping tighter around him, urging him to go deeper, faster.

He grabbed your hips, moving you away slightly, then slamming you back down onto his cock that earned him a louder moan from you. Your climax was building, tightening your muscles, making your vision blur. You bucked against him, desperate for release, your body screaming for more.

“Neteyam!” you cried, your voice breaking.

“Yes, baby,“ he answered, driving into you, one last, shattering thrust, and you shattered around him, a wracking orgasm that left you trembling, your body convulsing around his thick cock as you held on his shoulders. He groaned, his body tensing as he hugged you tighter to him, pushing your ass further on him as he poured himself into you, a hot, pulsing gush that filled you to overflowing.

He leaned his forehead against yours, both of you panting, sweat slicking your skin. His breath was ragged, his body still trembling. His hand rose to cup your jaw, his thumb brushing over your lower lip, his gaze dropping to your mouth. He leaned in, his eyes searching yours, a softer, more vulnerable hunger replacing the anger. He moved to claim your lips, a slow, tentative movement, a desire for intimacy that had been forbidden for so long.

But then you turned your head, pulling away, breaking the connection. His lips brushed your cheek instead. The ache in your chest, the one that had been dulled by the raw intensity of your coupling, returned with a sharp, familiar pang. You pushed at his chest, wriggling your legs so he’d let you down and he did, gently putting your feet on the ground. He pulled out, slowly, followed by a gush of warm liquid pouring out of you and trickling down your already wet inner thighs.

“Fuck...“ his hoarse voice dragged the word, his hand shotting down to touch you there but you pushed his hand away, wiping yourself with your own woven cloth.

His hand remained frozen mid-air, watching you fix yourself as properly as you could. When you’re done, you looked up at him, patting his shoulders. “Thanks. I’ll get going,” you said, turning on your heels to walk away.

His eyes followed you, his mind still hazy with lust and desire, but the ache that was previously gripping his heart like a vine has returned with a much stronger intensity, making him catch his breath. He felt hollowed somehow, as he always were every time he leaves you behind in the past, but it has found an intensity he cannot ignore now. He fixed himself, trying to dismiss the insistent ache that threatened to burst inside him.

He had convinced himself he was going you a favor by making things uncomplicated, free of sentiments that will only hurt you both. He has a duty to the clan. One day, the council will choose a woman for him and he knew he needed to fill the role he was born to play. He was so sure he could do his duty, just as he always had, and it will only hurt you if you developed feelings for him...

It doesn’t matter if he is drowning in his feelings for you. He could handle himself. But now... Now, his own arrogance had come back as a stab on his chest, because as he thinks of you... And thinks of the duty he needed to do, of the clan, of his parents, it all paled in comparison, dwarfed by the prospect of you tethered to him forever.

Meanwhile, you left the alcove without looking back, just as you were sure he hadn’t during the times he’d left you behind. Rounding a corner back to the training grounds, you almost bumped into Lo’ak, a small group of young hunters tailing him, likely heading back from a late-day check of the perimeters.

His eyes widened a fraction, taking in your appearance. “Whoa! You good? You looked like you just ran through the entire Hallelujah Mountains range—”

You hissed at him, brushing past them. Lo’ak followed you with his gaze, tilting his head, barking a distracted order at the young hunters, his eyes still fixed on where you disappeared, and when he looked back at the alcove you vacated, he did a double take, his heart skittering when he saw his older brother, the always put-together, ready-for-anything Neteyam, stepping out of it.

His chest was heaving, his skin glistened with a fine sheen of sweat, and the feathers tucked into his braids were tangled. He seemed too lost in his own thoughts he didn’t even bother throwing a glance at their bunch. He remembered your disheveled state and now, his brother’s shell-shocked expression. Lo’ak’s lips parted in realization. “Oh.”

His pupils dilated, he felt like someone had turned a light on inside his head, allowing him to see things clearly. He remembered his brother’s reaction during the festival, how he had practically manhandled Savko away from you, how Neteyam has been ill-tempered for days since that, snapping at anyone who moved too slowly, yet turning silent as a yerik once you’ve entered the training grounds.

He remembered how that had not been the only time Neteyam acted out of character when it came to you. How, years ago, when you and your friends were accompanied by a couple of young boys to go out and watch the descent of hundreds of fish from the mountain stream. Neteyam had been the drill sergeant of a supposedly grueling archery drill, but he let the young trainees go an hour early, and then ask the warriors their age if they want to go and watch the stupid fish show, only to hover around you the entire time.

Or that time when you’d taken a minor scrape during a practice skirmish in the forest. Neteyam, who usually preached that a warrior must embrace pain, had left his post in the middle of a live drill, reaching you before the blood even bloomed at your scrape, his hands checking the scratch on your arm with a tremor that didn't belong on a future leader. He’d snapped at the rest of the unit for "lack of focus”, but when you got mad for blowing things out of proportion over a single scrape, Neteyam looked like a chastised child.

Later that night, as the communal fire crackled and the scent of roast and fermented fruit wine filled the air, Lo’ak observed his brother beside him on the dais, noting his lack of appetite and his eyes that seemed to always dart to where you’re sitting with your friends. Unlike his brother, you seemed to be in a good disposition and Lo’ak can’t help but chuckle at that, shaking his head.

His jaw almost dropped when he saw Savko making his way to your spot, a leaf of plate in his hand. Lo’ak subtly looked at his brother sideways, checking, and Neteyam didn’t disappoint. There seems to be a thick cloud of gloom over his head, his eyes fixed on you and Savko, his lips pulled back in a thin line.

You looked up at Savko, seeing a shy smile on his face, holding out a small, leaf plate. On it, nestled on a bed of soft petals, lay a sweet pie, its surface glistening with honeyed berries.

“For you,” he offered, his voice soft, almost hesitant.

A ripple of knowing hoots and teasing laughter erupted from your friends and you felt a blush of embarrassment creep up your neck, but you accepted the offering with a grateful smile. “Thank you, Savko. It looks delicious.”

Your friends playfully pulled him down, pushing him to sit beside you and your eyes flitted anxiously on the dais, correct in assuming that someone was watching. You quickly buried down the concern, telling yourself you shouldn’t care about what he feels. You scooted an few inches away from Savko though. It didn't feel right to sit beside another man when you can literally still feel the shape of Neteyam’s girth between your thighs, and can’t even sit properly because of the phantom feeling of his movements in you.

“I was planning to talk to you earlier... I tried helping with the arrows, but Neteyam said he got it.“

Your smile faltered a little, but you were able to stop a grimace from forming. “Ah... Yes. Well, he handled it. How was your hunt?” you asked, changing the topic.

Neteyam watched you intently, admiring how the fire seemed to dance on your face, making you look even more captivating. He knew your smiles when you’re truly happy, it reaches your eyes, and he wanted to hurl whatever he gets his hands on at the thought of Savko seeing it right now, though he never knew himself to be violent. He saw you laugh, your head tilting back when Savko said something, and your friends around you laughed as well. He saw the way Savko’s gaze lingered on your face, the attraction in them obvious. A low growl rumbled in his chest and Lo’ak jolted, clearing his throat.

“Oh, Savko was quick!” he said casually, snickering. He’s quickly piecing the puzzles together and the picture it's forming into didn’t sit right with him. His brother is obviously hiding you in the dark and if he were to decide, he thinks his brother deserves a particular punishment. “I always knew he had the hots for her, but I thought he was afraid to go and approach her, reason why I dared him, but,” he munched on a berry. “he wasn’t a coward, clearly, approaching her in public like that. I even heard his friends encouraging him to court her, but the courting season wouldn't be until a few moons so he’s got one hell of a headstart.”

Well, the courting bit was a lie, but Lo’ak felt a petty urge to twist the knife and it seemed to have done its job. Neteyam’s eyes snapped at Lo’ak, “What?”

He shrugged, relishing the way his brother’s features hardened into  mask of suppressed fury. “I just heard it. I mean, look at them. I seemed to have made another pair, bro, remember Kaklen and Mana last time? They are mated now! They practically made out during my game last year—”

“Shut up, man,” Neteyam said, his chest felt like it has constricted, squeezing his lungs and not allowing him to breathe properly.

He hated how easily Savko has wormed his way into your life and even more, he hated how the hunter seemed determined to stay. The worst part was that Neteyam was powerless; any move he made to intervene would only push you further away than you already were. He’s made a huge mistake he didn’t know how to rectify, he knew something has shifted since the night of the festival, and he couldn’t even bring himself to get mad at Lo’ak for instigating it. His brother had done him a favor by prying his eyes open before it was too late.

He was the eldest son, for crying out loud. Sharing is probably the first virtue he ever learned, it was ingrained in him, a duty. But with you… It’s a different story. You are his. A truth he’d never even allowed himself to fully admit, but one that burned in his gut every time another hunter dared to look at you too long, or laugh too freely at your jokes. He’d always prided himself on his fairness, but any warrior who earned your smile, your laughter, found themselves on his list, marked for extra patrols, for arduous tasks.

And now, the burning image of Savko beside you was a bitter pill he couldn’t swallow.

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

You rolled over your mat, desperate to get your sleep back even as the morning sun dappled inside the small alcove that was your room. You knew it wll be impossible though, because the usual peaceful silence in your family’s hut was now replaced with the sound of a hammer hitting something and the low murmur of male voices.

You sat up with a groan, rubbing the sleep from your eyes before standing up to step out into the receiving area. Your steps were halted when you see Neteyam’s back though, his braids pulled into a careless tie, and his skin glistening with a sheen of sweat. He was standing in front one of the support beams that anchored the heavy thatch of the hut's roof, fixing what’s amiss.

Your father, standing near the beam as well, saw you and grinned. “You’re finally awake! Your friend, Neteyam, came by," your father was saying, his voice thick with gratitude. "I’ve walked past this pillar every day for three seasons. I wouldn't have noticed the wood was beginning to fray at the base if Neteyam hadn't pointed it out. The whole structure could have shifted by the next monsoon."

Neteyam didn't turn to look at you, his focus entirely on the vine lashing he was tightening with expert precision. "It is a common oversight," he replied, his voice a low, steady rumble. "The weight distributes evenly until it doesn't. Better to reinforce it now while the weather is dry."

Your mother stepped out of the cooking area, bringing out a bowl of broth, and smiling at you. “That boy has the eyes of a hawk," she whispered, leaning in so only you could hear. "Just the other day, he brought me a bundle of salt-root from his patrol. I hadn't even mentioned I was out, but apparently, Kalo has told him when he was teaching your brother how to fish.”

You seemed so out of loop. You two haven’t talked for days since your last “conversation” in the alcove at the training grounds. You still see him when you work with the young trainees, but he’s kept a respectful distance, and wasn’t actively breathing down your neck, or throwing his weight around. Granted, Savko was out for a week-long hunt and he probably doesn’t feel the need to compete, you thought cynically.

You’ve heard Kalo talk about him repeatedly, but that’s just an average day with the boy who idolizes Neteyam very much. You tilted your head. It’s not like it’s news to see Neteyam help your parents or be close to your little brother. He’s always been a people-person, always helping those who need it, so you brushed everything off as him doing his duties as future Olo’eyktan.

A few more days later, you found yourself gathered among the clan’s warriors and hunters, awaiting to hear the new task delegations. You patiently listen to Altek announcing names, his voice cutting through the low chatters. Neteyam stood far behind him among the other slightly older seasoned warriors. He’s the youngest in the bunch which is not surprising, because even then, he’s always been considered as the most skilled among his age peers so he’s most often grouped with the older ones.

You looked at him, his posture rigid and his eyes fixed on a point somewhere far. He looked every bit the disciplined soldier, until your name was called.

“The eastern boundaries has registered many Mangkwan sightings in the past weeks,” Altek declared, his gaze shifting between the two of you. “Neteyam, you two will take the nightly watch there. It is a long shift, so stay sharp.”

A few hunters let out low whistles and your friends looked at you with playfully narrowed eyes. You rolled your eyes and kept your face impassive. They are looking at you as if you’ll make a move on Neteyam or perve on him while you two are alone... Your cheeks burned. They don’t even know it’s the opposite. Neteyam saw your reaction to being paired with him, feeling like this was another negative point on his imaginary scoreboard. He hadn’t manipulated anything, but he felt like it was his fault that you might feel cornered by him.

The eastern boundary was secluded, quiet, and miles away from the main village. Usually, a pairing like this with you would have sent Neteyam’s chest puffing out with a subtle, smug victory, but he’s worried about what you think.

As the group began to disperse, Neteyam looked at you, watching the infuriating Savko approach you as easily as breathing, talking to you with regret on his face. He gritted his teeth, he didn’t even notice how his lips had almost pulled back to bare his fangs. He rolled his eyes when the talk was finally over, stepping into your path, his movements careful as opposed to his usual hard and imposing stance.

“I’d have you know I didn’t ask for this,” he said abruptly, his voice laced with what sounded like nervousness.

You stopped, blinking at him in confusion. “What?”

“The pairing,” he clarified, his hands moving restlessly as if he didn't know where to put them. He wouldn't meet your eyes, looking instead at the strap of your quiver. “I want you to know, I didn't speak to Altek. I didn't manipulate the roster. I didn't... I didn't force this to happen so I could corner you.”

You shifted your weight. “Neteyam, I didn't think you did.”

“But if you want to switch places, he pressed on. “You can. I’ll tell him I’m needed at the pens. You can pair with anyone you want... even Savko, if you want...” Say you don’t, the words strained at his throat. “I’ll make sure it’s cleared, I’ll take the blame for the confusion, just... you don't have to be alone with me.”

You tilted your head, your eyes narrowing when you realized Savko had been paired with Sylweyn. The silence of the past days caught up to you. Sure, he was practically a helping ghost to your parents and coaching your brother in archery but he hadn’t spoken a word to you. He hadn’t even approached you until today, and only then to suggest you switch places so you could be with Savko. A bitter thought took root: maybe, this was just a way to be with Sylweyn, and he’s just giving you the illusion of choice. You wondered if she’d kept him companied in the past few days, and if his silence was just a prelude to an ending.

Your throat dried up. “Do you want to switch places with Savko? I’m sure he’d be thrilled,” you said, clinging to the last threads of your pride.

“No. No, I don’t,” he said, his face almost crumpling in immediate anger. Oh, of course, that jackass will be thrilled. He’ll remember to thank Altek for pairing you two together, because the mere thought of you being paired with Savko instead sent a visceral shiver down his spine.

“Then why are you asking to switch places?” you asked, your voice dropping to a cold edge.

“I want to give you a choice—”

“No one has the luxury to choose here, and you know that,“ you cut him off. “It’s a job. We go, we watch, we come back. Let's not complicate things.” ​you brushed past him, walking away without turning your back.

Neteyam stood frozen, the words ‘don't complicate things’ seemed to have personified itself and is now laughing at his face. It was the very phrase he had used to keep you at arm’s length, and hearing it thrown back at him felt like being gutted with his own blade.

By the time you two reached the watch-shed at the eastern boundary hours later, the air was thick with the unspoken. You two literally conducted the patrol in silence you regretted not taking his offer of switching places. Perhaps, you could use Savko’s constant rumbling to beat the silence. Instead, it was the rain’s continuous drumming against the thatched roof that does the job. Neteyam, sitting as far away as possible, was busy obsessively checking the tension on his bowstring, his movements stiff and robotic.

“You're going to snap that string if you pull it any tighter,” you said, leaning back against the wooden support beam. You started peeling a piece of fruit, your eyes fixed on him. “Or should I just do the same with my bow for when you switch places with Savko? I hear he likes his equipment.... flexible.”

His hands froze, then his head slowly lifted, his golden eyes blazing with a mixture of exhaustion and fury. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You popped a slice of fruit into your mouth, chewing slowly as you watched his jaw clench. You let the silence stretch just long enough to be agonizing before you let out a soft, airy hum.

“Oh, I don’t know,” you replied, leaning your head back against the beam with a languid grace. “I just heard things. Word travels, Neteyam. They say Savko is very... thorough with his equipment. Thorough on making sure he applies just the right amount of... weight... until the job is finished to everyone's satisfaction.” You popped another slice of the fruit into your mouth, your gaze never leaving his.

Neteyam dropped the bow. The heavy wood clattered before he crossed the small space in two strides, his shadow swallowing you whole as he loomed over you. “You're testing me,” he growled, his voice guttural and dangerous. “You’re standing there, speaking of his stupid equipment. Why do you think of it?”

You tilted your chin up, reaching out, the tip of your finger tracing the line of his collarbone. “You seem so mad for someone who was so ready to give me away this afternoon. If he’s as thorough as they say, maybe I should have taken the offer to see.“

Neteyam let out a low snarl, his restraint finally disintegrating, and you’d clapped if you weren’t trying to be so in character. You let out a teasing moan when his hand shot out, tugging the braids at the base of your head to tilt it back, while his other arm hooked under your ass. Before you could even draw a breath to taunt him again, he hoisted you up and turned to the the thick, woven sleeping mats that lined the floor of the shed. You hit the furs with a soft thud, the air huffing out of you. You tried to scramble back, but Neteyam was over you, pinning your thighs into the mat.

“Nope,” he rasped. “You are already where I want you.”

You bit your lip, the playful glint in your eyes never dimming even as his large hand grasped your wrists, but it’s when he produced a cord from somewhere that your smirk faltered a little. He pushed your upper body down, his other hand that’s holding your tied wrists together moved to bring your hands over your head, binding them to the rough wooden beam. Your breath hitched in anticipation as you watched him loom over you, his large hand parting your thighs.

“You want thorough, baby?” His caressing hand untying your loincloth from your tail. He tilted his head, “Have I not been thorough with you?” he asked, his voice both thickened and sweetened with lust.

You bit your lip, looking at him through your lashes. Both of you knew he had been more than “thorough”. He was always so insatiable, bordering on obsessive when it came to your pleasure. There had been nights when you’d reached your peak two or three times, and still, his hands won’t leave you, his body molded to yours like he can’t get enough of you. Your mouth remained clamped though, you knew the question didn’t need an answer.

He ripped the loincloth off you, his lips pulling back to bare his gritted teeth as his eyes devoured your exposed body. He untied his own loincloth away, his cock, thick and rigid, springing free. You watched it, a primal hunger twisting in your gut, making you bite your lower lip. He knelt between your legs, fingers digging into your hips, pulling you forward until the head of his cock touched your soft folds.

He angled himself but didn’t enter just yet, instead, he rubbed the tip back and forth, a torturous caress that made your hips buck. A low moan escaped you, raw and desperate. His other hand clamped under you lower thigh, spreading you wide as he pinned the other on the mat with his own. Then, with a powerful thrust, he plunged into you. Your body arched, a gasp tearing from your lips as he filled you completely, stretching you. The force of it made your wrists strain against its bounds. He then pulled back almost entirely, before slamming into you again, a relentless rhythm of hard, punishing thrusts. You closed your eyes, your head falling back as your moans filled the shed.

He squeezed your thigh. “Look at me,” he rasped, panting for air as he continuously rammed against you.

You opened your eyes, your pupils blown wide, your breath coming in short, shallow bursts, the sound of it making his skin prick with arousal. You looked at him, the fierce, unyielding warrior who was currently falling apart at the seams just for a crumb of your affection, and you arched your back, pulling against your bounds.

He lowered his head, his mouth covering your breast with a hard suck, making you moan louder than you intended. “Fuck, Neteyam... Fuck, fuck, fuck!“

“Yes, baby, it’s me,” he said, a low growl before he rose to meet your eyes, his pupils equally as blown as yours. “You’re here with me. Only I can do this to you...”

You bucked against him. “Don’t curse me,“ you countered, and you saw his eyes flare with both humor and challenge.

He pulled your hips to him as he slammed into you, making you groan in both pleasure and surprise. “Don’t even think about it, baby. The clan would hate to lose one of its hunters...“ his voice grated dangerously and you hissed, a sound that’s both thrilled and half-hearted. He let out a curt laugh, his hand moving up to knead one of your breasts teasingly. “I don’t care how kind you think he is, I’ll break his bones before he tries anything—“

“Neteyam!” If your hands hadn’t been tied, you’d have smacked his arm already.

He tilted his head, not answering you in words but with thrusts that seemed to reach deeper in you. The air grew thick with the scent of sex and sweat. Your pussy gripped him tight, crying out as your orgasm began to build. You clenched around him and he groaned, his own release close. He drove into you harder, faster, a frantic rhythm that pushed you over the edge. Your body convulsed, the pleasure so intense it’s making you ache.

You heard his ragged cry, felt his body tense and then shudder as he emptied himself deep inside you. He collapsed onto you, his chest heaving, his weight a comforting pressure. He leaned down, his lips brushing your cheek, then your jaw. He tried to turn your head, to find your mouth.

“Baby, I want to kiss you…” he murmured, his voice hoarse, pleading.

You turned your face away, shaking your head. “Don’t, Neteyam,“ your voice was a whisper, laced with a familiar ache. “Let’s not go there.”

He groaned. “Why?”

“Why?” you repeated, your head snapping so you could meet his eyes. He didn’t flinch away despite knowing you'd see how wounded he looked. “You said it makes things complicated. It fools, didn’t it? Makes you think there’s more to something there’s none.” The same words he uttered in the past were bitter on your tongue, but you were glad you forced it out.

You saw his lips pull downward, his eyes tearing away from you to look anywhere but your face. He rose a little to untie the cords around your wrist and you thought of telling him to get off you but something tugged at your heartstrings, making you clamp your mouth shut. You felt his hand on your wrists and heard him groan, a deep sound emanating from his chest, his fingers caressed the reddened marks on them.

You watched him bow his head down so low his braids draped over your bare chest. His lips pressed to the marks, the warmth of his breath sending a traitorous shiver through you.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, the words muffled against your skin. His voice carried a weight that made your chest feel even tighter. You watched him, your heart knowing the apology wasn’t just for the cord’s marks on your wrists due to the roughness of his lovemaking.

He started to shift, though, his gaze finally lifting to meet yours. His lips parted as if he were about to say something. You saw the vulnerability in his eyes, the look of regret on his face, and your face burned with shame. You didn't like what is happening, or rather, your pride can’t. What is there for him to do? Apologize? Apologize that he didn't want to kiss you? If he spoke those words, the walls you had built to survive his rejection would crumble. You couldn’t let him make you feel pathetic. You couldn’t let him know how much it had hurt you.

So, you didn't let him speak.

With a sudden, feline grace, you lunged forward, your weight catching him off guard. You tackled him back into the furs, pinning his shoulders down. You straddled his hips, looking down at him with a cocky, predatory smirk that didn't quite reach your eyes.

“Do not say sorry...” you murmured, propping a hand on his abdomen. “I like it very much.” You watched his pupils dilate, the gold of his eyes flaring even as the sadness lingered. You leaned in closer, your lips ghosting over his earlobe. “Next time... I’d like you to tie my feet down, too. I want to see how thorough you really are when I can’t move at all.”

Neteyam’s entire body went rigid beneath you. He knew what you were doing. He knew you were using his own hunger to silence him, but he was a man starving, and you were offering him a feast. Whatever grand apology or confession he had prepared died in his throat, replaced by a low, helpless groan.

His arms, still trembling from the effort of his restraint, slowly wrapped around your waist. He pulled you down, burying his face in the crook of your neck, kissing it softly. For a moment, he even imagined himself kissing your lips while he did, and he didn’t feel shame or pity for himself at all; instead, he felt a surge of determination.

“You’re going to be the end of me,” he rasped, his grip tightening.

The following days bled into each other, punctuated by disciplined and professional silence during the days and a ritual of intense physical heat at night, mingled with Neteyam’s desperate, sneaky attempts to cross the bridge of the gap you built between you two. You are with him in each of those heated nights yet you seemed so far away.

You heard Neteyam’s final, ragged groan against your skin before he went still, his forehead resting against the crook of your shoulder, his lips sucking on your breast. You squeezed your eyes shut, fighting the streaks of white that marred your vision, his hand caressed your thigh before he pulled out with a familiar wet pop. You opened your eyes, seeing him lowering his head to kiss the hollow of your neck.

But with a deliberate movement, you rolled out from under him. Your skin was slick with sweat, sprawling out on the furs, your chest heaving as you caught your breath. A small, triumphant smile played on your lips, a lingering trace of the lust. You let your head fall back, arching your back slightly to stretch. The movement offered him a perfect, unobstructed view of your neck, mapped by the traces of his possessiveness, blooming with bruises where he had marked you.

Neteyam propped himself up on one elbow, treating himself to your beauty, his eyes caressing your features, feeling the familiar kicks of his heart against his ribcage. He reached out, his large hand finding your soft breast, groaning sotfly as he kneaded the flesh with a slow, rhythmic pressure that made your breath hitch.

You let out a husky chuckle, your hand flicked his hand away, but you didn’t move to cover yourself. “Let me breathe for a few more minutes, you thirsty beast,” you murmured, your voice still raspy. “There’s something I want to do... but I need my lungs to calm down first.”

Neteyam didn't say anything, only looking at you with a curious tilt of his head. He sat up, reaching into the shadows of the shed where his gear was stowed. You watched him with pursed lips, admiring his broad form that seemed all filled out with muscles and strength, and when he turned back, he was holding a familiar wooden board with deep, smoothed-out divots, and a small pouch that clinked with the sound of stones. You lifted your head excitedly.

He smiled. “You remembered,” he said, setting the Mancala board down on the furs.

Your smile grew wider, the cocky mask you’d been wearing all night finally slipping. You sat up abruptly, your hands hovering over the carved wood and your legs parted, completely unbothered by your nakedness. “You... where did you get this? I haven't seen this board in years.”

A genuine spark of excitement lit up your face, a ghost of the girl obsessed with playing this when you were teenagers. “I borrowed it from Norm,” he explained, his voice softening as he watched your reaction. He began to pour the stones into the pits. “I remembered how you used to cheat. I figured if we’re going to be stuck here, I might as well give you a chance to lose fairly for once.”

“Cheat?” You gasped, a playful glint returning to your eyes as you snatched a handful of stones. “I never cheated. I was just faster at counting!”

Neteyam laughed, one that didn't have a trace of the week's tension in it.

“Prove it then,” he challenged, gesturing to the board.

You leaned forward excitedly, your braids falling over your shoulders, the physical activity you said you wanted to do all forgotten. Neteyam watched you, watched the way your eyes lit up when you made a good move, the way you bit your lip in concentration, and the way you laughed when you caught him trying to sneak an extra stone into his home pit. He knows know, with a clearer certainty, what he already knows then.

He is irrevocably in love with you. He loves you so much the emotions in his heart seemed to always threatened to burst.

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

You stumbled out of your sleeping alcove, the rays of the sun piercing the hometree’s canopy have made it inside your family's hut in golden slits.  You were so thirsty and your eyes won’t even open from the exhaustion of the night's patrol.

You reached for a waterksin, but the sounds of someone working caught your attention. You blinked toward the far window, and there was Neteyam, too focused on reinforcing the frame. He looked entirely too awake for a man who had spent half the night watching the boundary and the other half... well, with you.

“Neteyam?” you rasped, rubbing your eyes. “What are you doing? My parents aren't here.” You heard them talking about the newborm baby the other moon, and how today is her first ever tsaheylu at the Tree of Souls so they definitely went.

“I know," he said. “Kalo mentioned the window was sticking. Figured I’d get it done while it was quiet.”

Oh, little Kalo... Who does he think Neteyam is? The clan’s carpenter? You shook your head. “You need to get some rest,” you scolded, leaning against the support post. “You’ve been awake almost the entire night. I'm practically a ghost right now, and you’re over here playing carpenter."

Neteyam leaned back against the frame, his golden eyes scanning your tired face. “Ah, yes... I suppose I could get some rest.”

“So then, go home and sleep,” you said.

“But it's such a long walk...“ he sighed, his voice a mock-weary tone that was purely for show.

You looked at him, completely unimpressed. “It’s not, Neteyam. I could literally walk you there right now. Don't be dramatic.”

He pushed his lips forward in a small pout, his gaze drifting past you to the beaded curtains of your private area. “I’ve never seen what your room looks like...”

You rolled your eyes, a tired chuckle escaping you. “It’s a room. Not as big as yours.”

“Can I see?”

“You are twenty-three years old, Neteyam,” you said, shaking your head. “This is the tactic of a fifteen-year-old trying to sneak a peek at a girl's trinkets.”

His eyes widened in genuine offense. “I have never done this at fifteen!”

“Whatever,” you muttered, a smirk playing on your lips to hide the heat in your cheeks. “Fine. Come and see. For thirty seconds only.”

He followed you eagerly and as he stepped into your space, he seemed to go quiet. He did look at the small trinkets, desperate to see what you liked to keep. His head tilted, seeing the carved shell he had given you when he came back from a vacation from Awa’atlu. The purple feather he got from the Hallelujah Mountains during his Iknimaya. The smooth river stones he had given you through the years. There were many others there, too, but the fact that you kept everything he gave you made him want to envelope you in a tight embrace.

He stretched, letting out a genuine yawn. “I could really get comfortable here...”

“What’s next, mighty warrior?” you teased, gesturing toward your sleeping mat. “Want to see how soft my mat is?”

“Well, since you asked...”

Before you could protest, he tested the softness with his weight, then flopped down, letting out another deep yawn. You meant to tell him to get up, but you felt the urge to yawn too, your body finally surrendering to the lack of sleep. His hand pulled yoursz tugging you down.

“Fine,” you grumbled, lying down beside him because you were simply too tired to argue. “Just for a minute.”

Neteyam grinned. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you back against his chest. You let out a contented sigh, the familiar comfort of his heat making your eyelids droop. You curled into him, and within minutes, you were both deeply asleep.

Hours passed and it was well past noon when the sound of voices drifted into the hut. Your mother was in high spirits, walking in with a few of her friends, her arms full of supplies.

“And then he gave me these tea roots,” your mother was saying, her voice brimming with pride. “Neteyam is such a thoughtful boy. I must have my girl talk to him and find out exactly where he found these; they have the most wonderful scent,” she stopped near the entrance to your alcove, calling your name. “Are you still asleep? I wanted to show you—” she pulled back the flap, and the words died in her throat. Her breath caught as she stared at the scene.

There, on the mat, was a very large blue figure. Neteyam was fast asleep, his face nestled deeply into the curve of your neck and chest, his arms locked around you in a way that looked entirely too natural and comfortable, while you were curled into him like a missing puzzle piece.

The tea roots slipped from her fingers. “Oh, Great Mother...” she whispered, her eyes wide with horror as she dropped the flap back into place.

A few more hours later, you finally emerged from your room, faintly remembering Neteyam kissing your shoulder and saying good bye an hour ago. Your mother sat by the hearth, her posture stiff as she pointedly sorted the tea roots Neteyam had given her.

“He left an hour ago,” she said. “Looking like a caught hexapede trying to find an escape.”

You felt your face heat up. “He was fixing the window, Ma. We were both exhausted from the patrol. It wasn't...”

Your mother finally met your eyes with a look of pure maternal scrutiny. “There is a certain way a man holds a woman, daughter. He wasn't just tired,” she said. “Are you two engaging in—”

“Mother!” you panicked. "We're just working together.”

Your mother stared at you knowingly, her eyes full of wisdom. She worries for you, she worries how she knows nothing of what’s going on, but at the same time, she couldn’t help but trust you. And trust what she sees in Neteyam.

A few days later, the communal dinner was filled with the sounds of low chatter and the crackling of fire. Neteyam moved through the crowd with his usual effortless grace, his eyes already finding you, and as he passed the spot where you sat with your friends, he casually leaned down, handing you a fresh, steam-wrapped leaf. You raised a brow and he mirrored your look.

“Eat,“ he said, the playful glint in his eyes too meaningful not to catch. Oh, it would be a long night, huh? You took it with a smirk, watching him walk to the dais where his family sits.

"Well, well," one of your friends teased, poking your shoulder with a grin. "Neteyam seems very concerned with your appetite lately."

You rolled your eyes playfully, unwrapping the leaf and taking a satisfied bite. "Oh, he owes me," you said loudly enough for the surrounding hunters to hear. "I saved him from a nantang during the patrol last night. It was about to bite his ass! I couldn't let the future Olo'eyktan walk around with a missing cheek, could I?"

The table erupted in laughter. From the dais, Neteyam’s ears twitched. He didn't look over, but a small, private smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Beside him, Lo’ak let out a sharp, knowing clear of his throat, choosing to avoid making a comment.

Later that night, the watch-shed differed from the sounds of the communal clearing. Here, the only sounds that could be heard were Neteyam’s deep groans and the wet sounds of your mouth working over his cock. His head was thrown back, his eyes watching you, his fingers tangled in the soft furs. He was quivering, his muscles twitching. You drove your mouth further onto him, your throat working to accommodate his size.

"Fuck..." he gasped, his voice broken. He reached down, his large hand trembling as he weakly tried to push your shoulders back, not meaning to stop you, but to lessen the sensation that was so intense he felt like he was going to come apart.

You didn't move. You leaned into him, swallowing more of him as you looked up through your lashes, a smirk playing in your eyes even as your mouth was full. You pulled back just enough to lick the length of him, your tongue swirling around the wide, sensitive head before your hand wrapped firmly around his girth.

“Don’t push,” you whispered, your voice thick with warning. “You’re doing so good for me. Take it...”

Neteyam let out a shaky, defeated breath, his hands falling. “Alright...”

He was powerless as you swallowed him again. You were relentless, driven by a desire to see him completely undone. You played with him until the shed was filled with the sound of his ragged breathing. By the time he hit his peak for the fifth time that night, his body went totally slack. His cock felt agonizingly sensitive, with electric jolt vibrating through his loins, while your own jaw ached from the effort, your tongue feeling like it had been permanently embedded with the taste of him.

Neteyam let his forearm fall over his eyes, hiding the raw vulnerability on his face. He was exhausted. Physically drained from a day of helping your father repair the heavy thatching of your family's hut. He heard a soft giggle and felt the familiar, warm slide of your tongue circling the head of his cock once more. He let out a low, pathetic groan and heard you laugh again.

You looked at his tired form, thinking of how hard he’d worked today just to earn a shred of your father’s respect. He needed to relax, to sleep, but the sight of him so helpless under you was too tempting. You leaned down again, determined to give him one more high.

The next nights were different, like this one. You two were sitting on the mat or furs that had been your bed from the past moons, still flushed and sweaty, both greedily biting into your slices of pie Neteyam had produced from his pack. It surprised you to know he had made it himself, it was overly sweet, just how you like it, and perfectly made. You moaned around a mouthful, savoring the crust. You couldn't remember him ever being a baker, but this was flawless.

In truth, Neteyam had spent the last weeks obsessing over making pie, forcing Lo’ak to act as a test subject for every burnt or soggy failure until his brother had threatened to tell Jake just to make the "torture" stop.

“This is... incredible,” you said, a thick drop of honey escaping the pie and sliding down your bare chest. You were too busy to care about the mess, and didn’t even see the way Neteyam’s throat bobbed as he watched you, his own slice forgotten in his hand.

As you leaned back to adjust your position, another drop found its way lower in the sensitive crevice near your thigh. You let out a soft chuckle, spreading your legs slightly in a deliberate move to scoop the honey with a finger and bring it to your lips.

The sound that left Neteyam’s throat made you chuckle, but his large, calloused hand clamped onto your thigh, pinning your leg in place so you couldn't close them. “Don't,” he rasped, his voice thick with hunger.

You bit your lip, watching him through half-lidded eyes. Your pussy still felt sore from the hours of attention he’d paid them earlier, but when saw him eye it with a desperate intensity, it’s all forgotten. Deliberately, you tilted the pie, letting a slow stream of honey fall directly onto your center. Neteyam closed his eyes momentarily, groaning before he set his food aside with a trembling hand and moved between your legs, his eyes locked on the golden sheen against your folds. He held your hips, moving it so it could face him properly, and then his head dipped low, his mouth immediately sucking the honey off, cleaning it with his tongue.

He nipped at your clit and you moaned, arching your back and squeezing a breast. He maneuvered your hips again, flipping you with effortless strength until you were on all fours, your back arched and your chest low to the furs. “Oh!” you moaned, your body vibrating with impossible excitement.

You felt him drop another glob of honey on your slit, biting your lip as the thick stream covered you. Neteyam licked the side of your pussy, before it lay flat on your clit, licking the honey from you with a focused reverence, his hands gripping your waist so hard his knuckles were white. You moaned loudly, the sound echoing in the small space, your tail giving a frantic, snapping flick that told him just how good you felt.

He didn't stop until every trace of sweetness was replaced by the salt of your tiny releases. But just as you felt the peak approaching, he pulled back, his fingers taking over to fondle your clit. Your arms buckled, your elbows hitting the mats as you mewled into the furs. “Fuck, Neteyam!“

He didn't give you time to recover. You felt the heavy, blunt head of his cock knocking at you tight hole, and then he was sliding in, filling you with a single, relentless thrust. He fucked you from behind, his fingers never leaving your clit, flicking and circling until you were a crying, breathless mess. You reached a high so intense it felt like your nerves were on fire. Neteyam continued to chase his, pulling you up to press your back flush against his chest, one arm wrapped like a iron around your shoulders to keep you upright as he continued to hammer into you.

“Neteyam. Shit... please... it's too much,“ you sobbed, your body bouncing with each of his thrusts. You had a safe word, but the thought of using it didn't even cross your mind. You wanted to be destroyed by this. "Neteyam, please... Too much. Oh! So... good...”

He pressed his face into the side of your neck, his fangs grazing your skin as he sucked and licked his way up to your cheek. “Just a little more, baby... stay with me,” he grated out, his voice sounding like it was being torn from his chest. “Fuck, fuck, fuck...” Neteyam groaned.

You mewled, your hips bucking from overstimulation, letting your head fall back onto his shoulder, your lips parted, your breath coming in shallow against his ear. Neteyam turned his head, his gaze catching your parted lips, your eyes closed. He felt the urge to kiss you so strongly it was a physical pain in his chest. So, he leaned in, listening to what his heart wants.

When his lips met yours, he felt his heart soar. He expected you to flinch, to turn away, to push him back. Instead, he felt your hand reach up to cup his jaw, your fingers trembling as you pulled him closer, kissing him back with a hunger that matched his own. Neteyam’s thrusts literally staggered. He felt weak at the knees, his balance faltering as the softness of your lips overwhelmed him. This might just be what it feels like to kiss a cloud, perfect and terrifyingly real.

He moaned into your mouth, his tongue seeking yours, deepening the contact until he felt a fresh, sharp heat behind his navel. His entire body shuddered as he finally found his own release, spilling deep inside you from his shallow thrusts, triggered purely by the overwhelming sensation of kissing you.

When he finally pulled back a fraction, his eyes were shining with a raw, unfiltered joy you hadn't seen since you were children. His hands cupped your face as if you were the most fragile thing. “Baby... that was better than all of my fantasies,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “Please, let me kiss you again. Please.”

You didn't say a word. You simply looked up at him, your eyes softening for the first time in what felt like eternity. When he leaned in again, you met him halfway, and he groaned when your lips met. He pulled out of you, gently maneuvering you down until you were both lying on the furs, tangled in a mess of limbs. The rules were gone. There was only your forgotten pies, the smell of honey, and the two of you, finally kissing like there was no tomorrow.

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

The sun’s heat found you on the training grounds as you and a few hunters guided the younger ones in archery. You were busy giving instructions, with Savko hovering near you, casually talking to you about random stuff that isn’t even registering properly, when Sylweyn and her friends sauntered over.

“Hello, sister,” she greeted, smiling playfully as she eyed Savko. “You two have gotten really close. Is he courting you?” she asked in a conspiratorial whisper.

“No,“ you shook your head, your forehead creased.

She grinned. “Oh, not yet,” she nodded. “It’s a waste of time, really. Everyone can see Savko is practically tripping over himself to court you. I don’t know what’s taking so long.”

You pushed your lips forward. You’re just glad Savko isn’t saying anything, for you probably wouldn’t know how to reject him.

Sylweyn looked at you, her eyes mischievous. “Sister, what do you think about switching places? It would be easier for everyone. I’ll take the eastern boundary with Neteyam, and you can take the river with Savko. I’ve been waiting to see where that kiss we shared moons ago would lead anyway.” she looked at you earnestly, completely unaware that the Golden Son she had been mooning over spent his nights marking your skin.

The surrounding hunters began to whistle and hoot. One of them laughed, “Doesn’t that sound too eager, Sylweyn? If the man wanted you, he would have come to you by now.”

Sylweyn didn't even flinch. She tossed her braids back, her eyes bright. “I have no issue making the first move. Closed mouths don’t get fed... and I’m sure Neteyam has so much to feed me.” She turned back to you, grinning. “So, sister, will you switch places with me?"

The peer pressure was thick. “I guess you ought to ask Neteyam,” you said. “I mean, I have no issue working with Savko.”

Savko beamed at the comment, and Sylweyn clapped her hands. “Perfect! I can't imagine how bored you and Neteyam must be out there. Really, sister, I admire your strength... if I were there in the dark with him, I would probably jump him!”

Everyone laughed at her words, even you can’t help but laugh but it all died down instantly when Neteyam arrived, fresh from the council meeting, his stride carrying a natural, heavy authority that made the younger hunters snap to attention. Sylweyn’s friends didn't miss a beat, playfully shoving her toward him.

Sylweyn wasn’t even ashamed or scared, she stood her ground in front of him. “Neteyam,“ she cleared her throat. “we were just discussing the patrols. Y/N said she has no issue switching places. As you can see, she wants to be with Savko, too. It makes more sense, doesn't it?”

The temperature seemed to drop and Neteyam’s sharp, golden eyes locked onto yours, then flicked slowly... almost dangerously to Savko, who was still standing a little too close to you. "She said that?" he asked. His voice was low, making the fine hairs on your arms stand up.

Sylweyn nodded excitedly, oblivious to the storm brewing behind his calm mask. Neteyam turned his full gaze back to you, his eyes narrowed. You know him too well to know that he was angry.

“No,” he told Sylweyn. “No switching places allowed for everyone. We are warriors, not children playing games of preference. No one must desire to disrupt a natural order for their personal whims. The assignments were made for efficiency, not for... social convenience." He walked closer to you, his presence looming and cold. "If we begin choosing partners based on who we wish to ’court,’ our discipline fails. The current arrangement stands,” he said, his voice so commanding even the young hunters who didn’t even have posts yet began nodding.

He turned on his heel and walked away without a second glance. Sylweyn looked stunned, her friends whispering about how “strict” he had become. You, however, had to bite your lip and look at the ground to stifle a smile. You suddenly felt hot, fighting the urge to follow his back with your gaze. He’s such a hypocrite... Using that commander voice to keep you all to himself. It was almost as intoxicating as your nights in the shed.

Later that night, you did your patrol with him in complete silence. He answers what you say with grunts and nods, moving stiffly, his gaze fixed on the path ahead, but he was practically vibrating with unspent energy. You tease him with touches here and there. A fingertip trailing on his muscled arm, a hand on his abdomen or shoulderblades, but he didn't move away or told you to stop. He just lets out a sharp, hitching breath through his nose, welcoming your touches even as he tried to maintain his "angry" silence.

“You’re still brooding,“ you said, as you walked inside the watch-shed, leaning against the support beam with a knowing smirk. “What’s there to be mad about, really? It’s not like you’d actually let it happen...”

Neteyam eyed you sharply. “You told them you want to be with Savko,” he said, his voice a low, dangerous rumble.

“No, I didn't,” you countered, stepping toward him, enjoying the way his pupils flared. “I said I had no issue working with him. Sylweyn was the one asking to switch places so she could be with you. What was I supposed to do? Lay my claim on you in front of them? I told her she should ask you."

Neteyam closed the distance between you in two strides, his hands gripping your arm. “You should have,” he said. “You should have told her I am spoken for. That I am yours as much as you are mine. If anyone asked of me the same thing, I would have broken a man’s nose.”

You let out a soft laugh, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “You’re so hot when you’re jealous and angry,“ you said in a breathy voice, tiptoeing a little to press a kiss on his lips, your other hand untying your loincloth around your tail. “It makes my loincloth come off.“ You swiped a lick on his lips when your loincloth pooled at your feet.

He groaned, his hand cupping your jaw to kiss you. One of his hands lifted your thigh and the other came down to circle around your back, lifting you up. You easily wrapped your legs around him, your bare pussy coming in contact with his lower abdomen before he kneeled on the furs, putting you down on it, his hands coming up to cage your head. The softness in his kiss made you think it would be slow and gentle tonight, but when you felt the familiar cords wrapping around your wrist, you shivered in his kiss.

He lifted his body, kneeling straight between your legs before grabbing your ankle, tying the same cord tie on your wrist. Your lips parted and his dark eyes snapped up to meet yours, his hand taking your other wrist to tie a cord around it, too. You bit your lip, raising your free ankle and pressing your foot in his chest to give it to him. He grabbed it, tying the cord’s end around it, and once it’s over, you’re all spread like an ikran on flight for him.

“Strip,” you ordered, your toes trying to reach for his loincloth but you can’t.

He reached for the ties himself, his other hand pushing away the feathers that covered your breasts to fondle them. He shed his loincloth off and your breath hitched in excitement. He lowered himself again to kiss you, so soft and gentle, making you groan and bite at his lower lip.

“Ow!“ he said in a small, but deep voice, huffing a laugh at you. His pupils were so blown they nearly swallowed the gold of his irises. “You’re a menace,” he murmured, his tongue tracing the part of his bottom lip where you'd bitten him.

Without another word, his large hands found your thighs, pushing them even wider against the tension of the cords. The cords bit into your wrists and ankles, forcing you to remain open and exposed as he settled between your legs, the head of his cock pressing against your entrance, and for a moment, he just looked at you, his chest heaving. Then, he drove home.

The first thrust was deep, a claim so possessive it knocked the breath from your lungs. You let out a jagged gasp, your hands tugging at the cords but it only brought your ankles up, spreading you wider.

He didn't give you time to adjust, immediately delivering relentless, punishing thrusts, rough and unapologetic, driven by the jealousy he felt from the training grounds. Each time he hit deep, your tail gave a snapping flick against the furs, your body arching instinctively, but the cords held you fast, keeping you right where he wanted you.

Yet, even as he reclaimed you with such an intensity, he leaned down to capture your mouth in a kiss that was so devastatingly sweet. His tongue swirled with yours in a slow dance, his lips soft and lingering. You smiled against his lips, wishing you could cup his face and kiss him harder.

“You’re doing it again," you said breathlessly. “Fucking me like you want to break me... But your kiss is so sweet. Is this my discipline?”

He didn't answer, only gripping your hips harder, burying his face in the crook of your neck as his thrusts sped up. You were turned into a crying, moaning mess, overstimulated by the fact that you can’t move your limbs and the overwhelming power of his movements above you. When he finally shattered, his body shuddered as he emptied himself into you, his forehead dropping to rest against yours.

His lips touched yours softly. “Fuck, I love you so much...” he said in a groan so deep and guttural your clouded mind almost didn’t catch it.

He peppered your jaw down to your neck with soft kisses before moving with careful gentleness to untie the cords. He chuckled breathily when he heard your soft sigh following your freedom, gathering you into his arms, his large hands trembling as he massaged the red marks on your wrists. He brought it to his lips to kiss it, you pushed your lips forward, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

“Are you sorry? Don’t be. I really liked it,“ you said in a soft voice, smiling at him.

His eyes lifted up to meet yours, soulful and deep it threatened to drown you. “I am sorry,” he whispered, his voice a broken thread.

He pressed his lips on your wrist again, then moved his face to begjn kissing every inch of your face, your neck, your chest. None of it felt sexual, each press were soft and full of apology you felt hot tears pricking your eyes. He leaned back just enough to look at you, his golden eyes shimmering with unshed tears and raw vulnerability.

“I was so arrogant, baby...“ he started. “I told myself... That if I didn't kiss you... If I kept this ‘functional’... Then I could protect you. I thought I could shield my heart so that when the day comes for me to lead, I wouldn't be paralyzed by the thought of losing you. You are the only girl who ever stirred my heart... Even then,” he chuckled, his tears falling. You smiled, pressing a palm against his chest. “I vowed I would never let myself go there... to protect the girl I loved from the weight of my duty.”

He let out a shaky breath, his forehead resting against yours.

“But I was wrong. I was so incredibly wrong. I fell deeper in love with you every single day, even without tasting your lips. I wanted you so much I couldn't deny myself, even as I was lying to your face. I thought arrogance was my armor, but it was just a cage.” He cupped your face, his thumb wiping away the tears you didn't realize were falling. “I don't care about all of that anymore. I don’t care about anything that will force me to live a half-life without you. The moment I claimed you, I decided who I was. I'm not just a son or a warrior. I am yours. So, please... end my misery, baby. Accept me as your mate. Please, have me...”

The weight of his words shattered your final defenses. You reached up, smacking his chest with a weak, sobbing laugh. “You idiot! You could have just told me, because I fell in love anyway... I am yours, Neteyam. I have always been.“

Neteyam let out a relieved sound, pulling you into a kiss. “I'm sorry for being so selfish,” he murmured against your mouth, his heart drumming a frantic rhythm against yours. “For hurting you. For hurting us. I love you so much. I am so in love with you.”

You nodded, burying your face in his chest, finally feeling the gap between you close for good. “I love you, Neteyam.”

The sun’s warmth was the first thing you felt against your skin that told you it was morning. But it was Neteyam’s lips pressing kisses on your kiss that woke you up, tracing up the column of your neck to your jaw. Even in the haze of sleep, you could feel the steady pulse of your kuru still connected to his, making you so attuned to what he’s feeling. He pulled you closer by the waist, his nose nuzzling into your hair with a contented hum.

“We should probably get back,” you whispered, though you made no move to get up. You snuggled into him, thinking of what’s the next step for you two. “Neteyam... What do you think about keeping this a secret for a while? Just ease them into the truth slowly.”

“What?” Neteyam’s voice was a low protest.

You lifted your head, your hand cupping his face. “The courting season is almost here. You can pretend to court me, and then we’ll ‘officially’ mate...”

“Babe, we don’t have to lie,” he insisted, his eyes searching yours. “I’ll tell my parents and the council today. I’ll face the consequences. I don't want to hide you.”

You bit your lip, nodding. “But we don’t need to tell them today, do we? We can wait a few more days...” you asked.

He looked at you and sighed, but ended up agreeing. The flight back to Hometree was swift, and as you landed, a warrior approached, informing Neteyam the council called for him immediately. His hand lingered on your waist, his fingers digging in slightly as if he couldn't bear to let go.

You smiled, gently prying his hand away. “My parents are out,” you whispered, leaning into his ear. “You can come by later… we can sleep in my room.”

Neteyam let out a low groan, hooking his finger under your chin, pulling you into a deep, bruising kiss that spoke of every plan he had for you later that night. It was cut short by a collective, sharp gasp though, making you pull away, your eyes landing on the group of returning hunters, including a wide-eyed Sylweyn and a jaw-slacked Savko, staring at you both in utter shock.

You cleared your throat, smoothing your hair. “Oh. Just remembered. Mother needed me back early,“ you moved away from Neteyam, walking the opposite way, but walking back to push Neteyam to move. “The council calls for you, Neteyam.” You gave him a playful, slightly forceful shove and walked away with your head high, leaving the hunters whispering in your wake.

In the council tent, Neteyam stood with his jaw set, ready to declare his mating regardless of the fallout, because apparently, the council has chosen a woman for him. But before he could speak, Altek stepped forward.

“I have spent a great deal of time helping the council choose the best match to ensure the strength of future leadership.”

Neteyam opened his mouth to protest, but his mother, Neytiri, caught his eye. She was smiling, a look of pure, maternal triumph on her face. “I suppose you are happy, son,” she said softly. “You always did have your eyes on her.”

“Y/N is our choice,” one of the elders concluded.

Neteyam choked on his own saliva, a surprised, breathless chuckle escaping him. The irony was almost too much to handle that he couldn’t even regain his composure, his face breaking into a massive, unstoppable grin as the elders discuss about inviting your parents to a council with Jake, Neytiri, and Mo’at.

He was the first to go when the council was over, fighting the urge to run or skip to your family’s hut, the excitement vibrating in his body an impossible energy to stop. By the time he reached your room, he found you napping, your face peaceful. He slid onto the mat beside you, pulling you into his arms.

“Baby,” he whispered as you stirred. “The council has chosen a woman for me—”

His words caught at his throat when you sat up faster than lightning, your eyes flashing. “What?! Have you told them you are a mated man?”

“Well, uh, no—”

“No?!” You recoiled, his hand tried to catch yours but you pulled away. “Who?” you demanded, your eyes wide with feral anger as though you’re ready to pounce.

“Baby, it’s you,” he chuckled, tugging you back down. “You are their choice.”

Your lips parted, the anger draining out of you made you sigh. It was replaced by a stunned silence, though, and then panic. “Oh… oh, Great Mother! What will we do? We have to follow the rites… the ceremonies… Mo’at is going to be so pissed when she learns we’ve already mated!”

Neteyam just smiled, watching you panic and ramble, your words stumbling over one another. “It will be fine. We’re already mated. The rest is just for the sake of the clan.”

Your gaze traced up from the muscles on his arm up to his angled jaw. His presence here, during a Mangkwan raid, was a familiar insult. Two years ago, on a similar night, you grappled with him in a combat, failing to truly hurt him which you think he deserves for sabotaging your clan’s raid. You remembered the clash of your blade against the blade of his knife at his forearm. He’s extremely strong and hss surprising speed for a warrior of his size, so you learned not to underestimate him.

A low hiss escaped your lips at the sight of him and you lunged without thinking. He turned to you, his eyes widening a little before reacting to meet you halfway, his dual blade fist knife at the ready. You spinned your staff, hurling the blades closer to him. He was taller, a wall of muscle even before, but you were more agile, your quickness a match for his brute strength. The blade that extended to his forearm parried a thrust of your blade. You danced around him, seeking an opening, and smiling like a predator eyeing its meal.

His sharp eyes tracked your every move before shifting, a fluid grace that belied his size, blocking your strikes instinctively. You faked a high strike, then dropped low, sweeping your staff in a wide arc. He jumped, agile as a viperwolf, but you were already twisting, bringing the staff up, the curved hook of the blade catching his shoulder. He grunted, pulling back, but not before the jagged edge bit deep. A line of crimson bloomed on his shoulder.

“Still too slow,” you murmured, a triumphant glint in your eyes.

He huffed, his eyes glowing with playful mischief. You narrowed your eyes, annoyed, so you pressed your advantage, a flurry of strikes to force him back and back until his heel caught on a fallen branch. He stumbled, off balance but he immediately found his footing. You pushed him, hard, your hand pressing againg his chest when you heard Vakrep’s roar cut through the air as he called your name. You glanced over your shoulder, then back at Neteyam. His eyes were fixed on you, a strange intensity in their depths.

You pushed him again. “Go!” you hissed, your voice low and urgent.

He didn't move, just watching you, his breathing ragged. You turned, sprinting towards your party, leaving him standing there in the middle of the burning village. You risked a glance back and saw that he was still there, a lone, blue figure, watching you disappear into the smoke and fire. You remembered years ago... That same moment when you looked back and he was just standing there, watching you run away.

A few moons later, the training grounds was filled with the sounds of blades clashing. You moved among the young Mangkwan, correcting stances, demonstrating blocks, your double-bladed staff a natural extension of your arm. The red blades flashed as you carried it with controlled precision, sparring with a young Mangkwan, barely a man, his eyes wide with concentration. He lunged, a predictable move, and you flowed around him, the flat of your staff tapping his side.

“Dead,” you said in a bored tone. “You’ll die quick if you’re too eager.”

He nodded and you continued, ensuring to fulfill your role of honing their skills, keeping in mind the philosophy that pulsed in every Mangkwan’s vein: only the strong survive. Those who are too weak to hunt, those who are too injured to recover, are left to death for the taking, left to rot as lessons to others.

You remembered Säyim’s frail hand, her hunting days long behind her. Kekihe, her granddaughter, was no more than a foal. They were what this clan sees as disposable, marked for abandonment. Your heart silently rebelled to your own people’s words. Säyim and Kekihe are your life. A family you found in the chaos.

Your eyes caught Vakrep standing on the sidelines. His eyes, as always were on you, the possessive glint in his eyes making your skin crawl. He raised a hand by the time your current trainee wws done.

“I’ll spar with you next,” you heard him say, the sound followed by the snickering of his foolish crew behind him. “I miss... touching you.”

You gritted your teeth, your hand itching to wound him for the disgusting meaning behind his words, reinforcing the talks he spread about having bedded you which held no truth in them. “You talk too much,” you spat, your hand gripping your staff.