The Word That Broke the Tide (part1)
(Aonung × you)
Story: Aonung were already in a bad mood, you come to talk to him, and you two end up fighting and A word slipped from his tongue that made you not stop talking to him, but to leave, to your clan (also you slap him in front of his parents lol)
Important note: you are jake sully's daughter ★
{part2}
The argument had not started as something large.
It rarely did.
Ao’nung had returned already carrying the weight of a bad day—too many responsibilities, too many whispers from elders who believed they spoke quietly enough. His patience was thin, stretched like rope pulled too tight.
You didn’t know.
You only saw him sitting there, tense, distant, his jaw set in that way that meant his thoughts were somewhere far from the room.
So you approached him.
“Ao’nung,” you said gently. “Can we talk?”
He exhaled sharply, rubbing his face. “Not now.”
“It’s just something small—”
“I said not now.”
Normally, you would have left it there. Normally, you would have waited.
But the last weeks had been heavy for you too.
“I’ve been waiting all day” you replied quietly.
That was the wrong thing to say.
He stood abruptly, frustration spilling out before he could stop it.
“Then maybe you should learn when to leave things alone.”
Your brows pulled together. “I wasn’t trying to start a fight.”
“Well, you are” he snapped.
You stared at him, hurt flickering across your face.
“I just wanted to talk.”
“About what?” he demanded. “Another problem I can’t fix?”
Your voice sharpened slightly. “I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
The air between you thickened.
“I came to you calmly,” you said, trying to steady yourself. “You’re the one turning this into something else.”
His tail lashed once behind him.
“Maybe I’m tired of everything turning into something else,” he said bitterly.
You folded your arms. “You’re not being fair.”
“Fair?” he laughed harshly. “You want to talk about fair?”
You frowned. “What is that supposed to mean?”
And that was when it happened.
The words slipped out, sharp and careless, born from anger rather than truth.
“Maybe if you stopped acting like some demon-blood outsider, things would be easier.”
Silence crashed into the room.
For a second, Ao’nung didn’t even realize what he had said.
But you did.
Your hand slowly curled at your side, eyes dropping to your fingers—five of them. The ones that had always set you apart among the Metkayina.
Your voice, when it came, was quiet.
“Demon blood?”
Ao’nung’s anger vanished instantly.
“I didn’t—”
But it was too late.
Something in your face had already closed.
You didn’t yell.
You didn’t cry.
You simply turned around and walked away.
“Ao’nung called after you. “Wait—”
But you didn’t stop.
Not to cool down.
Not to breathe.
To leave.
The call of your ikran echoed across the shore not long after.
It was loud, powerful enough that nearby villagers lifted their heads in surprise. Wings cut through the sky as the creature descended, its cry echoing across the water.
People began gathering, curiosity turning into concern.
Among them were Tonowari and Ronal, stepping forward with sharp eyes.
“What is happening?” Ronal demanded.
Ao’nung arrived moments later, breath uneven, having run the entire way.
He saw you standing there beneath your ikran’s wings.
And his stomach dropped.
“Hey—” he called, moving quickly toward you. “What are you doing?”
You ignored him, fastening the harness.
His heart began to pound.
“You’re not leaving,” he said, voice tightening.
You still didn’t answer.
He reached out, grabbing your shoulder gently but firmly.
“Talk to me.”
The moment his hand touched you—
You turned.
The slap cracked through the air.
It was loud enough that the gathered villagers froze.
Ao’nung staggered half a step back, stunned more by the meaning of it than the force.
Your eyes burned with something deeper than anger.
“Don’t touch me,” you said.
For once, Ao’nung had no words.
Before anyone could react, you mounted your ikran and pulled the reins.
The creature launched into the sky with a powerful beat of its wings.
Ao’nung stood there watching you disappear into the horizon.
And for the first time in years, the future leader of the Metkayina looked completely helpless.
—
The flight lasted nearly a full day.
The wind burned your face, your muscles screamed from the distance, but you didn’t slow down.
Not once.
By the time the forest of the Omatikaya came into view, your chest ached with exhaustion and emotion tangled too tightly to separate.
Your ikran cried out as it descended near the village.
Immediately, people looked up.
Omatikaya warriors approached cautiously at first—until they recognized you.
“Wait” someone called.
More figures emerged.
And then your family appeared.
First was your father, Jake Sully, stepping forward with a serious expression already forming.
Behind him came Lo’ak and Neteyam, both staring in confusion.
Tuk ran out from behind them.
“Is that—?”
Kiri followed quietly, eyes widening slightly.
Spider leaned forward to get a better look.
And then Neytiri stepped out from the crowd.
“Ma’ite,” she breathed softly.
You slid off your ikran the moment it landed.
Jake stepped closer, scanning your face.
“Did something happen?”
You didn’t answer.
Instead, the moment your feet touched the ground, you ran forward.
Straight into Neytiri.
Your arms wrapped around her tightly, burying your face against her shoulder.
For a second, she looked surprised.
Then her arms closed around you just as firmly.
“My child,” she murmured, instantly sensing the storm in your breathing.
Behind her, the others exchanged worried glances.
Lo’ak frowned. “Okay… something definitely happened.”
Neteyam crossed his arms slightly, concern clear in his voice. “Did Ao’nung hurt you?”
Jake’s gaze hardened slightly at that possibility.
He stepped closer. “Talk to me.”
But you stayed pressed against Neytiri, gripping her like the world had finally stopped spinning.
And quietly, into her shoulder, your voice broke.
“He called me demon blood.”
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