Credits to @sirscampi for the chapter cover
The Eldest
Sully family x eldest daughter reader
Part 46 < Part 47 > Part 48
It’s Going Down
Kiri had been perfectly content a moment ago—
Half-submerged in the shallows as she watched the tiny bubbles rise and pop from a worm’s burrow, her mind drifting somewhere quiet and distant, somewhere untouched by everything else.
It was peaceful.
Until it wasn’t.
The light dimmed slightly, shadows stretching over her where there hadn’t been any before.
Then the voices. “What is she doing?”
Kiri didn’t react at first, her gaze still fixed on the sand.
“I don’t know,” Aonung’s voice followed, amused, careless. “She’s just… looking at the sand.”
A few of the others laughed.
Kiri blinked, her focus snapping back as she pushed herself upright, water dripping from her arms as she turned slightly toward them. “Huh?” she said, a little disoriented. “What’d you say?”
Aonung tilted his head, a grin tugging at his lips. “Are you some kind of freak?”
His friend to the right snorted, repeating it like it was the funniest thing he’d heard all day. “He asked if you were a freak.”
Kiri exhaled slowly, already tired of it, her shoulders dropping slightly as she stood fully. “No,” she said simply, turning away. She didn’t have the energy for this.
“Are you sure?” Aonung called after her, chuckling. “I mean, you’re not even a real Na’vi.”
Kiri stopped. Only for a second. Then kept walking.
“Look at these hands,” Aonung added, stepping closer, reaching out to grab one of her wrists.
She pulled away immediately.
He grabbed it again. Stronger this time. “I mean, look at them—”
“Hey!” Lo’ak’s voice cut as he came in from the side, his steps quick, his posture already tense. “Back off, fish lips.”
Aonung turned, his grin widening slightly. “Oh,” he drawled, “another four-fingered freak.”
Lo’ak didn’t slow. He stepped right up to him, closing the space completely. “Don’t touch her.”
One of Aonung’s friends snickered, stepping in behind him.
“Look at his little baby tail,” he laughed, reaching out and grabbing it.
Lo’ak snapped instantly, shoving him back hard. “Don’t touch me!”
“Baby tail!” another chimed in, laughing louder now.
“Leave us alone!” Kiri snapped, turning back, frustration finally breaking through.
“He’s not normal,” one of them muttered.
“Look at his tail.”
That was when Neteyam stepped in.
One second he wasn’t there, the next his hand was on Aonung’s shoulder, gripping tight as he shoved him back, creating space between him and Lo’ak.
“You heard what he said.”
His voice was calm.
The kind of calm that carried a threat underneath it.
A warning.
“Leave them alone.”
One of Aonung’s friends scoffed. “Ah, big brother’s here—”
Aonung lifted a hand, silencing him without even looking.
Neteyam didn’t move. “Back off,” he said again, quieter this time. “Now.”
Aonung held his gaze for a second longer—then scoffed, lifting his hands in mock surrender. “Alright.”
Neteyam didn’t relax. “Smart choice,” he said, his eyes flicking briefly across the rest of them, sharp and deliberate.
“And from now on…”
He paused just long enough for it to settle.
“I need you to respect my sister.”
One of Aonung’s friends hissed under his breath, but didn’t step forward again.
Aonung raised his hand slightly again, holding him back.
Behind Neteyam, Kiri stuck her tongue out at them.
Lo’ak huffed, still tense, but stepping back.
Neteyam finally turned, his posture easing just enough as he looked at them. “Let’s go.”
They started to move but the air hadn’t quite settled yet.
Because something about it lingered.
Like it wasn’t over.
Just paused.
“Buh-bye,” one of Aonung’s friends called after them, the taunt light but edged just enough to linger.
“Look at them,” Aonung added, louder this time, making sure it carried, “they’re all freaks. The whole family.”
Lo’ak stopped.
The breath he let out was slow, controlled—but his jaw tightened hard enough that it was visible even from behind.
“Lo’ak,” Neteyam warned quietly.
“I got this, bro.”
And he turned. Walked straight back.
Kiri’s stomach dropped.
Neteyam sighed under his breath.
Lo’ak stopped in front of Aonung again, rolling his shoulders once like he was loosening up, his expression shifting into something almost… casual.
“I know this hand is funny,” he said, lifting it slightly, wiggling his pinky like he was putting on some kind of show. “Look— I’m a freak. An alien.”
A few of the boys chuckled.
“But it can do something really cool,” Lo’ak added, voice steady. “Watch.”
He closed his hand slowly. Balling it into a tight fist.
“First I ball it up like this, okay—”
And then—
He swung.
A sharp right hook cracked against Aonung’s face, snapping his head to the side before he could react.
A left followed immediately.
Then a third—
harder—
Sending him stumbling back into the shallows with a splash.
“It’s called a punch, bitch.”
Lo’ak stepped forward, breathing harder now, adrenaline already taking over. “Don’t ever touch my sister again.”
Aonung surged forward with a hiss, tackling him straight into the water.
They went down hard—
Lo’ak shoved him off and landed another hit.
But it didn’t stay one-on-one.
Aonung’s friends rushed in, grabbing Lo’ak’s tail, dragging him back just enough to throw him off balance before one of them lashed out—
a tail cracking across Lo’ak’s face with a sharp snap.
Neteyam exhaled sharply through his nose.
He stepped in.
His hand closed around the arm of one of the boys holding Lo’ak’s tail, yanking him back before driving a punch straight into him, sending him sprawling into the sand.
Another came at him—
Neteyam turned, swinging clean and controlled, knocking him sideways into the shallows.
“Stop this!” Kiri shouted, her voice cutting through the chaos as she stepped forward, hands raised slightly.
“So stupid!”
But no one was listening.
Not anymore.
The fight had taken on its own rhythm— fast, messy, escalating.
And then—
There was a sudden drop in the air, like the warmth had been pulled out from under it, like something chilling had settled over the beach all at once.
Kiri felt it first.
Then Neteyam.
Then Lo’ak.
They all knew what it meant.
From one end of the beach—
(Y/n).
From the other—
Si’riya.
They moved toward the chaos at the same time, their presence cutting through it like a blade.
Aonung’s friends froze first.
Then Aonung himself.
Because this—
this was different.
This wasn’t a fight anymore.
This was something else entirely.
(Y/n) didn’t slow.
Didn’t hesitate.
She stepped straight into it, her hand catching Lo’ak by the shoulder, the other grabbing Neteyam as she shoved both of them back behind her with ease.
“Stay.”
Sharp.
Final.
Across from her, Si’riya moved just as quickly, stepping in front of her brother, placing herself between him and whatever was about to happen.
The space between them compressed. Like the air itself was being pulled inward.
Tails lashed.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Their eyes locked.
Cold.
Unyielding.
“Oh shit—” Lo’ak muttered under his breath.
“(Y/n)—” Neteyam started, already knowing exactly where this could go.
She didn’t even look at him fully—just shot him a sharp glance over her shoulder.
Enough.
Behind her, Lo’ak smirked faintly at Aonung, still riding the edge of adrenaline.
Kiri reached out, gripping his arm tightly, trying to ground him before he pushed things further.
Si’riya’s gaze flicked briefly to her brother
Then back to (Y/n).
The tension coiled tighter.
Thicker.
Like a storm sitting just above breaking point.
Everyone felt it.
Everyone knew it.
The Sully brothers especially.
Because they had seen this before.
One wrong word—
One wrong move—
and this wouldn’t end in bruises.
It would end in blood.
Aonung knew it too, knew his sister hated the eldest of the demon kids and knew that blood would be spilled.
“Four on two…” (Y/n)’s voice cut through the silence, low and sharp, her lip curling slightly. “…doesn’t seem very fair.”
Her gaze flicked over Aonung’s group, dismissive, cold.
“Didn’t know you fish people were cowards.”
“Watch it, demon,” Si’riya snarled instantly, stepping forward.
Aonung’s hand shot out, grabbing her wrist— but she tore it free like it meant nothing.
Around them, his friends shifted.
Backed off.
Because this—
This wasn’t their fight anymore.
“Or what?” (Y/n) stepped closer, her voice dropping, dangerous. “You’ll teach me a lesson?”
Another step.
Slow.
Measured.
“You will teach your brother and his friends to keep their hands off mine…”
Her head tilted slightly.
“…or I will teach them why.”
“I’ll take your other eye if you try,” Si’riya shot back, her stance widening, shoulders squaring.
(Y/n) didn’t even flinch.
“Do it,” she said, almost amused. “I’ll give you a reason to call me demon.”
The air went still.
The kind that pressed into your lungs.
The kind that makes everything feel like it’s holding its breath.
Maybe—
Maybe they’d walk away.
They didn’t.
They moved at the same time.
Fast.
Explosive.
Si’riya lunged first—
But (Y/n) was already stepping in, closing the distance before she could fully extend, her body turning side-on as she drove a sharp blow into Si’riya’s midsection.
Then another.
And another—
Quick, controlled strikes that forced the air from her lungs and sent her stumbling back, her arms jerking reflexively as pain travelled through them.
Si’riya hissed, breath catching.
“Come on, Si’riya!” Aonung called, voice sharp with urgency.
She scowled, resetting her stance before surging forward again, faster this time—stronger.
(Y/n) shifted, arms up despite the strain pulling through her bandaged shoulders, her body angling to absorb the impact—because she knew what was coming.
Si’riya swung—and the force behind it was heavy.
(Y/n) blocked, but it still drove into her, the impact reverberating through her arms, forcing her back half a step as her jaw clenched against the pain.
Behind her—
Lo’ak let out a low, impressed hiss. “Damn—”
Neteyam didn’t speak.
But his eyes tracked every movement.
Kiri just shook her head, tension sitting in her shoulders.
“This is so stupid…” she muttered under her breath.
Si’riya pressed the advantage, stepping in again—
A strike with the back of her hooked arm this time—
(Y/n) twisted just enough to avoid the worst of it, but it still clipped her side— hard.
A grunt slipped from her before she could stop it.
That one hurt.
Si’riya saw it.
And went again.
(Y/n) moved.
Fast.
Slipping inside the next strike, her foot hooking behind Si’riya’s leg as she drove her shoulder forward—using leverage instead of strength, forcing Si’riya off balance.
They staggered.
Sand shifting beneath their feet.
(Y/n) struck again—short, controlled hits to the body, keeping her off rhythm, keeping her reacting instead of thinking.
“She’s got her—” Lo’ak started, grinning—
But it didn’t last.
Si’riya adapted, hated how she was being outmatched, so she needed to use the best tool in her kit.
Her movements sharpened, her strength coming through in the next exchange as she drove forward, her hook arm swinging low—
and this time—
(Y/n) couldn’t fully avoid it.
The edge caught her.
A sharp slice across her side.
(Y/n) sucked in a breath through her teeth as she staggered slightly, one hand instinctively dropping toward the wound.
“Shit—” Neteyam muttered under his breath.
Kiri stepped forward instinctively. “Stop this—”
But they didn’t hear her.
They were too far in it now.
Si’riya came again—
And (Y/n) met her head-on this time.
She stepped in close, ignoring the pull of her wounds, her arms not driving as hard as they should—couldn’t—but her technique didn’t falter.
She baited the strike.
Let Si’riya commit—then shifted.
Her hand shot out, catching the hook arm mid-swing—
Twisting.
Turning.
Using momentum.
There was a sharp crack.
Si’riya hissed as her arm jerked unnaturally, pole of the hooked arm snapping in half, she felt an ache in her shoulder.
But she didn’t go down.
Didn’t stop.
Her other arm came up immediately— and landed.
Hard.
A clean blow across (Y/n)’s jaw that snapped her head to the side, sending her stumbling back a step as the world tilted briefly.
Lo’ak winced. “Okay— yeah that one would hurt—”
Neteyam stepped forward slightly.“(Y/n)—” He wasn’t worried about his sister losing but is well aware of how dangerous his sister could be when truly angered and he could tell, she was running out of patience.
But she was already resetting.
Already coming back in.
Blood ran warm down her side.
Her arms ached.
Her breathing was heavier now—but her stance held.
Firm.
Unyielding.
Across from her, Si’riya stood breathing just as hard, her injured arm held slightly off, but her eyes still locked in.
Neither of them backing down.
Not an inch.
The tension spiked again—higher than before.
Worse.
Because now there was blood.
And everyone felt it.
This was about to go too far.
Kiri stepped forward again, louder this time—“Stop it!”
But it barely cut through.
Not when both of them shifted—ready to go again.
Smirks on their faces.
He had been asking around the village, has anyone seen my daughter? It felt like he was on a massive goose chase as he went down to the beach where someone said he saw his daughter went, as well as his other children.
Jake heard it before he saw it.
The sound—
Unmistakable.
Flesh meeting flesh.
Bone meeting bone.
A fight.
His stomach dropped before his mind could even catch up.
Because he knew.
Of course he knew.
He didn’t need to guess who was right in the middle of it.
“…you’ve gotta be kidding me,” he muttered under his breath as he picked up his pace along the shoreline.
By the time he reached them, the scene had already formed—
Si’riya dragging herself back up to her feet, breath heavy, stance shaken but not broken—
(Y/n) a few paces back, one hand pressed to her side, blood staining through where the hook had caught her, her shoulders tight, her breathing sharper than she wanted it to be.
Their siblings stood off to the side.
Reef kids too.
Watching.
No one stepping in.
Jake’s gaze flicked once—
Lo’ak.
Neteyam.
They wouldn’t meet his eyes.
Kiri looked like she was one second away from snapping.
Tonowari stepped up beside him.
The two men didn’t need words at first.
Just a look.
One that said exactly what they were both thinking.
They turned back just in time to see Si’riya rush again and (Y/n) met her.
Cleaner this time.
Despite the blood.
Despite the strain.
She stepped inside the attack—
one strike to the ribs.
A second to the shoulder.
A third snapping up under the chin—
and a fourth driving into her midsection again, forcing the air from Si’riya’s lungs as she staggered back, folding slightly.
Si’riya answered with one heavy swing and it landed.
A solid blow that knocked (Y/n) off her line for a second, her body twisting with it as she sucked in a sharp breath.
Jake winced. “…yeah, that’s gonna bruise,” he muttered.
Tonowari flinched as Si’riya hit the sand again moments later, the impact dull but heavy.
“This was inevitable,” he said quietly, watching his daughter push herself back up again, stubborn as ever. “Perhaps… it is best to let the storm pass.”
Jake didn’t answer straight away.
His eyes stayed locked on (Y/n).
On the way she shifted her weight slightly off her injured side.
On the way her arms didn’t drive quite as hard as they should.
On the way she kept going anyway.
“…what do we do with those two?” Jake asked finally, his voice low, though there was something in it that pulled tight at his chest.
Because every time she winced— he felt it.
Tonowari didn’t answer immediately because he was also in the same boat.
Another exchange—
(Y/n) slipping a strike, landing two more in quick succession—
Si’riya retaliating with one that forced (Y/n) back a step.
Bone met bone again.
Tonowari hissed under his breath at the sound.
They stood in silence for a few seconds longer.
Watching.
Measuring.
Jake glanced sideways at him. “That bet still on?”
Tonowari’s brow lifted slightly— then he gave a short nod.
Jake exhaled once. “…alright then.”
“Hey!” Jake called out suddenly, voice carrying across the sand.
(Y/n)’s head snapped just slightly—just enough to register him— before Si’riya came in again.
“Hands up!” Jake barked. “Don’t drop your guard—she’s gonna swing left—”
(Y/n) adjusted—just in time.
The hit glanced instead of landing clean.
“Yeah, that’s it—stay inside her reach!”
Tonowari stepped forward a fraction, his own voice cutting in. “Si’riya—use your legs! Do not let her control the distance!”
Si’riya surged forward again—
stronger—
Driving in with her weight.
(Y/n) absorbed it, shifting, turning— landing another two quick strikes to the body.
Jake winced again. “…easy, kid—watch that side—”
Because he saw it.
The slight lag.
The way her movements weren’t as sharp on that side anymore.
Tonowari flinched as Si’riya took another hit, sand spraying as she dropped to one knee before forcing herself back up again.
“Again!” he called. “You are stronger—use it!”
She did.
Driving forward—landing one heavy blow that snapped (Y/n)’s head back slightly—
And Jake physically recoiled at the sight.
“Oh—come on—” he muttered.
Then immediately—“Get back in there! Don’t let her reset!”
(Y/n) did exactly that.
Closing distance again.
Three hits.
Four.
Each one clean.
Each one controlled.
Each one wearing Si’riya down.
Jake winced.
Then cheered.
Then winced again. “…that’s my girl—wait—no—don’t take that—block!”
Tonowari mirrored him almost perfectly—
one second encouraging—
the next bracing at every impact.
The two men stood side by side, caught between instinct and watching their daughters try to beat each other into the ground.
Neteyam, Lo’ak and Kiri stood just off to the side, caught between disbelief and something dangerously close to second-hand embarrassment as they watched their fathers—
their leaders—
stand there…
And coach a full-blown brawl like it was some kind of training exercise.
Lo’ak let out a long sigh, dragging a hand down his face. “Only (Y/n),” he muttered under his breath.
Neteyam didn’t even argue.
Because… yeah.
Only her.
Only their sister could turn something like this into this—
a full audience, their father involved, and somehow still be winning while half-injured.
“Didn’t you place a bet?” Neteyam asked quietly, glancing at him.
Lo’ak straightened a little, immediately defensive.“And it was a solid bet,” he said, gesturing toward the fight. “Look— (Y/n) is winning.”
Kiri shot him a look sharp enough to cut.“You are both ridiculous.”
But her eyes flicked back to the fight anyway.
Because she couldn’t not watch.
No one could.
Out on the sand—
Jake and Tonowari had fully committed.
“Yeah, that’s it—stay on her—don’t give her space!” Jake called, his voice carrying, his focus locked entirely on his daughter.
(Y/n) moved with it— slipping another strike, stepping in, landing a clean hit to Si’riya’s ribs that forced a sharp exhale from her.
Tonowari stepped forward slightly, jaw tightening.
“Si’riya—use your reach!” he barked. “Do not let her close in!”
Jake snorted under his breath.“Bit late for that, isn’t it?” he muttered, just loud enough.
Tonowari shot him a look.
Jake didn’t even try to hide the faint grin tugging at his mouth. “Looks like my kid’s got this one,” he added, almost teasing.
Tonowari exhaled slowly through his nose.
He didn’t like admitting it—
not even a little—
but he could see it too.
Still—he straightened slightly, refocusing.
“Again, Si’riya,” he called, his tone firm. “Stand your ground!”
Si’riya surged forward and for a moment, it looked like she might turn it.
A heavy swing—
another—
forcing (Y/n) to shift, to absorb, her injured side clearly slowing her just enough.
Jake winced at that one. “…watch it, kid—”
But (Y/n) adapted.
She slipped the next strike—
Stepped inside—
and then—
Everything changed in a single movement.
Her hand shot out, catching Si’riya’s arm—
the same side as the hook—
Her grip tightening just enough to control it.
Then she turned.
Fast.
Precise.
Using leverage over strength—
Twisting the joint past its natural line.
There was a sharp pop.
And Si’riya cried out.
The sound cut through everything.
Her arm jerked— shoulder dislocating cleanly under the force as she staggered back, pain flashing across her face as her balance broke.
Tonowari flinched hard at that, his body reacting before his mind could catch up.
Jake sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth.
“…okay— yeah— that’s— that’s enough—” he muttered, even as something in him knew his daughter had done exactly what she was trained to do.
Behind them—
Kiri’s expression hardened immediately. “How can evertone just stand here,” she snapped under her breath.
Neteyam stepped forward slightly, tension coiling in his shoulders.
Lo’ak, for once, didn’t have anything smart to say.
“That’s for my side, bitch—”
(Y/n)’s voice came out sharp, breath uneven as her hand pressed hard against the cut along her ribs, fingers slick where the blood had begun to seep through.
Across from her, Si’riya spat a mouthful of blood into the sand, her chest rising and falling hard, one arm hanging wrong at her side while the other tried to steady it, her face already swelling, bruises blooming along her ribs where the blows had landed clean.
“Girls—” Tonowari called out, his voice cutting across the beach.
They didn’t hear him.
Or they ignored him.
Jake exhaled sharply through his nose, eyes locked on (Y/n), already reading the shift in her stance, the tightening of her shoulders, the way her weight favoured one side just enough to matter.
“…watch it, kid—” he muttered under his breath.
Then louder— “Hands up! Don’t get sloppy now—”
Tonowari stepped forward a fraction, jaw set as his gaze snapped to his daughter.
“Si’riya—stand your ground! Use your strength—”
They moved again.
No hesitation.
No pause.
They collided.
Sand kicked up beneath their feet as Si’riya drove forward, forcing the space closed, her good arm swinging—
and this time—
it landed.
Hard.
Straight into (Y/n)’s wounded side.
A dull, heavy impact that made the sound of it carry.
Jake flinched. “…ah—shit—”
(Y/n)’s breath caught—
sharp—
the pain spiking through her like fire—
and for a split second—
her vision blurred.
Then something else hit.
Fury.
Overriding everything.
She stepped in again.
And this time—
She didn’t hold back.
One strike.
Then another.
Then another—
Faster—harder—
driving into Si’riya’s guard, into her ribs, into whatever space she could find as she pushed her back step by step.
Tonowari winced at each one, his body reacting instinctively.
“Guard—Si’riya, guard—!”
But she was already losing ground.
(Y/n) kept coming.
Relentless.
Every hit precise despite the strain pulling through her arms, despite the way her side screamed with every movement—
She didn’t stop.
Didn’t slow.
Until—
Si’riya went down.
Hard.
The impact knocked the breath from her again as she hit the sand, her body finally giving way under the pressure.
Silence followed.
Heavy.
Thick.
(Y/n) stood over her, chest rising and falling, blood trailing down her side, shoulders tight with effort.
“You done?” she asked, voice rough.
Si’riya lay there for a second longer before exhaling, nodding faintly.
“…yeah,” she managed, voice strained. “I’m done.”
(Y/n)’s shoulders dropped slightly at that.
The fight drained out of her just as fast as it had come—
and the moment it did—
her knees gave.
She dropped down into the sand, breath uneven now for a different reason entirely.
“You fight well… for a demon,” Si’riya added after a beat, a faint, tired edge to it.
(Y/n) huffed a quiet breath, something almost like a laugh slipping through.
“You’re not too bad yourself, guppy.”
And just like that—
the tension broke.
The air shifted.
The storm passed.
Jake let out a long breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding, running a hand down his face as the adrenaline finally started to ease.
Tonowari did the same beside him, his shoulders dropping slightly as he stepped forward.
They moved at the same time.
Jake reached (Y/n) first, crouching down beside her, one hand coming up to steady her as he took in the damage with a practiced eye.
Tonowari did the same for Si’riya, already assessing her shoulder, his expression concerned
Neither of them spoke for a moment.
Then they both turned.
Their sons stood where they had been left.
“Go,” Tonowari said, his voice calm but carrying weight. “All of you. I will see to you later.”
Aonung didn’t argue.
None of them did.
Jake’s gaze settled on his boys next. “Meet me at home,” he ordered simply.
Neteyam nodded.
Lo’ak followed.
Kiri lingered for half a second eyes flicking between her sister and her dad—then turned as well.
The beach slowly emptied.
Leaving just the aftermath.
And the two fathers, picking up their daughters.
“Come on,” Jake said quietly, his voice low now, all the sharp edges gone as he crouched beside her.
He didn’t wait for an answer.
One arm slipped beneath her legs, the other supporting her back, careful—so damn careful—of the way she flinched when he lifted her.
“Easy now kid …” he muttered under his breath, more to himself than to her as he adjusted his hold, keeping her steady against his chest.
Her head tipped slightly toward his shoulder, her breath still uneven, the fight finally draining out of her completely.
Across from them, Tonowari moved just as carefully.
“Easy, Si’riya,” he said, his voice firm but gentler than anyone else would ever hear it, his hands steady as he lifted her, mindful of her shoulder, of the way her body tensed with the movement.
She hissed quietly but didn’t protest, her strength spent, her usual fire dulled by exhaustion and pain.
For a moment they just walked.
Two fathers carrying the aftermath of something that had been inevitable from the start.
Then Jake exhaled softly, glancing down at the top of his daughter’s head. “…you wanna tell me what the hell that was?”
It wasn’t sharp.
Not angry.
Just tired.
(Y/n) shifted slightly in his arms, her voice coming out quieter than usual. “Reef kids messing with my brothers…”
“That’s not what I asked,” he said, not unkindly, but not letting it slide either. “I asked what you were thinking.”
There was a pause.
A long one.
“…I was thinking they shouldn’t do it again and I was going to use the guppy as an example,” she muttered.
Jake huffed under his breath, shaking his head slightly. “Kid…”
On the other side, Tonowari’s voice carried low and steady. “You fought through an injured shoulder,” he said, not accusatory—just stating it. “And pressed further after it was compromised.”
Si’riya shifted slightly, her voice rough. “She wouldn’t stop.”
“And so you escalate?” Tonowari asked calmly.
“…yes,” she admitted, too tired to argue otherwise. “Someone had to put that demon in her place.”
Tonowari exhaled slowly through his nose.
Jake glanced over briefly, then back down at his daughter.
“You didn’t stop either,” he added, quieter now.
(Y/n) didn’t respond. Her head just rested a little heavier against him, her breathing evening out slightly as the adrenaline fully left her system.
Jake adjusted his grip again, more careful this time. “…you’re both a problem,” he muttered, though there was something almost fond buried under it.
Tonowari huffed faintly at that, though he didn’t disagree.
“Where are we going?” (Y/n) asked, her voice quieter now, the edge worn down by exhaustion as she shifted slightly in Jake’s arms.
“To the Tsahik’s mauri,” Jake answered simply.
She gave a small nod against his shoulder.
Across from them, Si’riya stiffened immediately. “No—” she started, squirming in Tonowari’s hold despite how much it clearly hurt. “Please—no, mom will kill me—”
“Loser,” (Y/n) muttered under her breath, not even lifting her head.
Si’riya shot her a glare that didn’t quite land with the same fire as before.
Jake huffed softly. “Oh, don’t think you’re escaping it either,” he said, glancing down at his daughter. “I’m getting your mother as well.”
That got a reaction. (Y/n) shifted again, just enough to test his grip. No chance she was escaping.
Jake tightened his hold immediately, Tonowari doing the same without even looking over.
The two men exchanged a brief glance— tired.
Because they both understood the same thing.
If this lesson was going to stick—
it wouldn’t be them delivering it.
It would be their mothers.
(Y/n) tried again, a little more insistently this time, twisting just enough to try and slip free.
“Hey—” Jake tightened his hold without hesitation. “Cut it out,” he muttered, not unkindly but firm. “You need that wound seen to.”
Tonowari’s voice followed, just as steady. “And that shoulder tended to.”
“I’m fine,” both girls said at the exact same time.
Jake snorted quietly under his breath. “Yeah,” he murmured, unconvinced. “Sure you are.”
He adjusted his hold again, a little gentler now as her weight settled properly against him.
Then, quieter—
so only she could hear—
“Good job, pumpkin.”
A brief pause.
He pressed a small, almost hidden kiss pressed to the top of her head. “For winning.”
(Y/n) huffed softly, something faintly satisfied flickering through her exhaustion.
Across from them, Tonowari glanced down at his daughter, his expression far more softer than it usually was. “Good effort, Si’riya,” he said, his tone calm, though not without weight. “You have much to work on… but you faced down the daughter of Toruk Makto.”
“Bravely.”
“…yet foolishly.”
Si’riya let out a tired breath, her head tipping back slightly because she hated to admit getting absolutely destroyed.
The Tsahik’s mauri was quiet when they arrived.
Jake slowed slightly as he stepped inside, his eyes scanning the space out of habit, while Tonowari glanced toward one of the nearby villagers. “Find Ronal… and Neytiri,” he said.
The man nodded and moved quickly.
That left just them.
The two fathers and their daughters—and the aftermath.
Jake lowered (Y/n) carefully onto the woven floor, one hand still steady at her back as he eased her down.
She hissed the moment her weight shifted.
“Yeah, yeah…I know it hurts, ” he muttered under his breath, adjusting her slightly so she wasn’t putting pressure on the worst of it.
Across from them, Tonowari did the same with Si’riya, just as careful and she hissed in pain too.
“Maybe this will teach you about the consequences of violence,” Tonowari said.
Both girls rolled their eyes.
Jake huffed faintly under his breath, not even bothering to comment.
Tonowari moved to a nearby jug, filling two bowls with fresh water before handing one to Jake along with a cloth.
Jake took it without a word, already crouching beside his daughter. “Alright,” he murmured, dipping the cloth before bringing it to her side.
The moment it touched she hissed sharply.
“Easy,” he said, though his voice softened instinctively as he slowed his movements, more careful now as he began to clean the blood away, revealing the cut beneath.
“…this is your own fault,” he added after a second, quieter—more out of habit than anything else.
But there was no real bite to it.
Not when he was watching her flinch. Not when he could see how deep it went.
(Y/n) exhaled slowly, her jaw tightening. “Worth it,” she muttered.
Jake shook his head faintly. “Yeah, you would say that.”
He worked in silence for a moment, carefully clearing the blood, checking the depth, making sure it hadn’t gone worse than it looked.
His hand steadied slightly as he pressed the cloth more firmly against her side and she sucked in a sharp breath.
“Hold it there,” he said quietly.
“I am holding it—”
“No,” he cut in gently, adjusting her hand so it sat properly over the wound. “Like this.”
She glared at him briefly—then did it.
Across from them, Tonowari knelt beside Si’riya, his movements just as precise as he cleaned the cuts along her arms and face.
She didn’t say much at first. Just sat there, breathing through the pain.
“Do you want me,” he asked, glancing at her shoulder, “or your mother resetting that?”
Si’riya didn’t hesitate. “You.”
Tonowari gave a small nod. “Sit up.”
She shifted, slower this time, her face tightening as she pushed herself upright.
He moved closer, one hand steadying her, the other carefully positioning at her shoulder.
“Look at me,” he said quietly.
She did.
He reset it.
Si’riya cried out, her body tensing hard before the tension broke, her breath hitching as the pain spiked— then settled.
Tonowari’s hand came up immediately, steadying her, his voice softer now. “Easy… it is done.”
She leaned into him slightly, her breathing uneven as the worst of it passed.
His hand rested briefly against the side of her head
Across the room, Jake glanced over—then back to his own daughter.
“You good?” he asked quietly.
(Y/n) exhaled through her nose. “Peachy.”
Jake snorted faintly. “Yeah. You look it.”
But his hand came up anyway, brushing a stray strand of hair back from her face, checking her over again like he hadn’t already done it twice.
He stayed crouched beside her long after the worst of the blood had been wiped away.
The cloth in his hand was stained now, his fingers still faintly red where he hadn’t quite bothered to clean them yet.
His eyes didn’t leave her.
Couldn’t.
Not when the damage was right there in front of him— the cut along her side, deeper than he wanted it to be, angry and raw, the bruising already beginning to darken beneath her skin, the way her shoulders sat just a little tighter than usual because everything hurt more than she was letting on.
He knew that look.
Knew it too well.
The way she tried to make it seem like nothing. The way she shrugged pain off like it didn’t matter. And something in his chest twisted hard at that.
“Hold the pressure,” he murmured again, quieter this time, even though she already was.
His hand hovered for a second then settled lightly over hers, reinforcing it, steadying it without taking over.
He adjusted slightly, easing her back just enough so she wasn’t straining, his other hand coming up to brush her hair back again.
She didn’t comment on it.
Didn’t tease him.
Too tired.
“…you’re alright,” he muttered under his breath, more for himself than for her.
Because he needed it to be true.
Because every time he saw her like this— it felt like something inside him was being pulled apart piece by piece.
His kid.
And no matter how many times she stood back up— he would always see the moments she didn’t.
Across the mauri, Tonowari sat beside Si’riya, one hand resting steady against her back, the other lightly holding her arm in place.
Support.
His gaze moved over her injuries with quiet worry.
The swelling along her face.
The bruising that would deepen by the hour.
The scrapes, the cuts, the shoulder he had just reset and the way she still held it just slightly too carefully, even though it was back where it belonged.
He said nothing for a long moment. Because there wasn’t anything he could say that would make this better.
Because this—this was the cost of letting it go as far as it had.
And he had let it.
He knew he had.
His jaw tightened faintly, but his touch never did.
“You are breathing too shallow,” he said quietly after a moment.
She adjusted, just slightly.
His thumb brushed briefly along her upper arm—a small, almost absent motion—
Because for all his strength, this was the part that always got to him.
Seeing her hurt. Seeing the marks left behind.
Knowing he couldn’t take them for her.
He exhaled slowly, his hand settling more firmly at her back as she leaned just slightly toward him.
“Rest,” he said quietly.
And stayed exactly where he was.
Ronal and Neytiri stopped just at the edge of the mauri.
They didn’t speak at first, they shared a glance.
Quick.
Tense.
Understanding.
They stepped inside together.
And there it was.
Their mates—hovering, fussing, far gentler than either of them would have been in that moment—
and their daughters—injured from what clearly was the result of a fight.
Both women sighed. Deep. Long-suffering.
“What happened?” Ronal asked, already moving, already reaching for what she needed.
“They got into a fight,” Tonowari answered simply.
“It’s not my fault,” both girls said at the exact same time.
That earned them a look.
Neytiri crouched beside (Y/n), her eyes sweeping over her quickly—assessing.
The cut at her side. Bruising. Nothing life-threatening.
Across from her, Ronal’s gaze lingered longer on Si’riya—her daughter looked worse.
Face swelling. Bruising already spreading across her ribs.
Her jaw tightened slightly.
“You fight while already injured?” Neytiri started, her voice low but cutting, her hands moving as she began cleaning and preparing the wound properly. “You leave the mauri without permission, ignore your father, and then escalate a conflict that did not need to become physical—”
(Y/n) winced—not from the wound.
From the tone.
“You were just healed,” Neytiri continued, not pausing, not softening. “And now you are back here again—bleeding, reckless, and proud of it—”
“I’m not proud—”
Neytiri’s eyes narrowed sharply.
(Y/n) shut up immediately.
Across from them, Ronal was no gentler.
“You allowed your temper to control you,” she said to Si’riya, her voice calm but far more dangerous for it as she worked on her daughter’s injuries. “You ignored your training, your discipline, and your responsibilities to your clan—to start fights!”
Si’riya shifted slightly.
Bad move.
“Do not move,” Ronal snapped.
She didn’t.
“You fight like this—without restraint, without thought—and you expect no consequence?” Ronal continued, her tone tightening just slightly. “You could have worsened your arm. You could have been permanently damaged—”
“I was fine—”
Ronal didn’t even look at her. “You are not fine,” she said flatly.
Si’riya winced.
Jake and Tonowari exchanged a glance.
Then, almost in sync, stepped forward.
“Hey—” Jake started, raising a hand slightly. “Maybe go a little easy on them, they’re already hurt—”
Tonowari nodded faintly. “They have endured enough for now.”
Both women turned their heads slowly and shot them unimpressed looks.
“Because of their own stupidity and lack of restraint,” Neytiri said flatly.
“No,” Ronal added, not even glancing away from her work, “they will learn through pain—and through words.”
She handed Neytiri fresh bandages and salve without missing a beat.
“And we will ensure they understand both.”
Jake exhaled quietly.
Yeah. That wasn’t going anywhere.
So they stepped back.
And the lecture continued.
Each sentence layered on the last until both girls were visibly shrinking under it—
not physically—
but in the way they sat, the way they avoided eye contact, the way they winced not just from their injuries, but from every word.
Time stretched.
It felt like it would never end.
Eventually—the girls glanced at each other.
A look passed between them both of them sharing a silent idea.
“They encouraged it,” they both said.
Neytiri stilled.
“What do you mean?” she asked, her voice dropping.
(Y/n) didn’t hesitate. “Dad was egging me on.”
Si’riya followed immediately. “Father also did not step in. He encouraged it as well.”
Silence filled the mauri.
Then—both women turned.
Slowly.
Their gaze locked onto their mates.
The daughters—forgotten.
Entirely.
“You two,” Neytiri said, rising to her feet.
“Stay here,” Ronal added, already moving.
“We must speak to your fathers,” Neytiri finished, her tone leaving no room for argument.
Jake and Tonowari didn’t even try arguing.
They just followed.
Out.
Into whatever storm they had just redirected.
The mauri fell quiet.
Finally.
Si’riya exhaled slowly, leaning back slightly. “…that was a smart move.”
(Y/n) smirked faintly, eyes half-lidded. “It’s everyone for themselves.”
Si’riya huffed a quiet laugh. “You’re not too bad, demon.”
“Same, guppy.”
A pause.
“Truce?”
“…truce.”
They both shifted slightly, settling into the quiet now that it had finally come.
“You hit faster than a speeding tulkun,” Si’riya added after a moment.
(Y/n) huffed faintly. “And you swing like a charging antsik. Bit slow—but that hook?” she winced slightly. “I’m tired of bleeding.”
Si’riya chuckled softly. “You threw my shoulder out. I’m going to feel that for days.”
“You win.” She admitted.
“I know I win.”
“…don’t push it, I’m trying to be humble.”
“And I’m trying to enjoy the quiet.”
That got a faint smirk from both of them.
Then silence settled again. But this time it was comfortable.
Outside the mauri, the air felt heavier.
Not quiet—charged.
Jake and Tonowari stopped a few steps from the entrance, neither man saying anything, but both knowing exactly what was coming.
They’d seen that look before. Heard that tone. Felt that shift in the air.
Ronal and Neytiri turned on them at the same time. Like akula scenting blood.
Jake winced slightly under the weight of it.
“…what do you mean encouraged?” Neytiri asked, her voice low, controlled in a way that made it far worse.
Jake rubbed the back of his neck, already knowing this wasn’t going to go well. “Oh, you know…” he started, trying for casual, already failing, “they needed to burn off a little steam, so we—uh—turned it into a training moment.”
Silence.
“That,” Ronal said slowly, gesturing sharply toward the mauri behind them, “does not look like training.”
Jake opened his mouth. Closed it again.
Tonowari exhaled quietly through his nose. Wrong answer. Very wrong answer.
“What it looks like,” Neytiri continued, stepping closer, “is two injured daughters escalating violence while their fathers stood by and encouraged it.”
Jake lifted his hands slightly. “Alright—hold on—”
“No,” Neytiri cut him off immediately. “You do not hold on.”
Her voice rose just enough to make him nervous. “You explain to me why our daughter—who was already wounded—is now back under bandages because you thought it was a good idea to let her continue fighting.”
Jake winced. “…when you put it like that—”
“How else should I put it?” she snapped.
Tonowari tried to step in, voice steadier but no less firm. “They needed to resolve the conflict—”
“With fists?” Ronal cut in sharply, turning on him now. “With injuries that will take days to heal?”
Tonowari’s jaw tightened slightly. “It was already beyond words—”
“Because you allowed it to get beyond words,” Ronal shot back.
Jake let out a quiet breath. “…they were going to fight either way,” he said, trying to ground it, trying to make it sound reasonable. “At least this way we could—”
“Control it?” Neytiri finished, incredulous.
Jake hesitated. “…yeah.”
Her eyes narrowed. “That is not control, Jake.” She gestured sharply toward the mauri again. “That is damage.”
Jake exhaled, running a hand down his face. “They held their own,” he muttered, quieter now. “They handled themselves well—”
That made it worse. Significantly worse.
Neytiri stared at him. “You are praising her.”
Jake blinked. “…I’m— acknowledging—”
“You are praising her,” she repeated, firmer this time.
Ronal’s gaze flicked to Tonowari. “And you?”
Tonowari didn’t answer immediately. “…she fought well,” he admitted.
Ronal’s expression didn’t change. But somehow that was worse. “You allowed your daughter,” she said slowly, each word deliberate, “to continue a fight while her body was already compromised.”
Tonowari held her gaze. “She needed to learn—”
“She needed to be stopped,” Ronal cut in.
Jake stepped forward slightly, trying again. “They were defending their siblings—”
“And that excuses recklessness?” Neytiri snapped back immediately.
Jake hesitated. “…no, but—”
“But nothing.”
Her voice dropped again, quieter—more dangerous. “You are responsible to teach them to fight. Discipline. And today—you chose to ignore both.”
That landed.
Harder than anything else.
Jake’s shoulders shifted slightly.
Tonowari’s gaze dropped just a fraction.
But they weren’t done.
“They stood up for their family,” Jake tried again, softer this time, but still pushing it. “They didn’t back down—”
“And they did not need to go that far,” Neytiri shot back.
Ronal nodded once. “Strength is not proven through unnecessary harm.”
Jake exhaled slowly. “…they’re going to face worse than this one day,” he said, quieter now, more honest. “I’d rather they learn how to handle it here—where we can step in—than out there where we can’t.”
That made Ronal pause.
Brief.
Neytiri too.
But not enough. “And yet,” Neytiri said, her tone steady again, “you did not step in.”
Jake had no answer for that.
Because she was right.
Tonowari exhaled quietly. “We misjudged the moment.”
Ronal’s gaze held his. “Yes,” she said simply.
Silence settled again.
Jake rubbed his neck again, glancing briefly toward the mauri. “…they’ll be alright,” he muttered.
Neytiri’s expression softened—just slightly.
But her tone didn’t. “They will be,” she said. “Because we will make sure of it.”
And that—was the end of it.
For now.
The women turned without another word and went back into the mauri.
Jake and Tonowari followed a step behind—
instinct more than decision—
but they didn’t even make it fully inside before being stopped.
“Out.” Ronal didn’t raise her voice.
Neytiri didn’t even look at them—just a small flick of her hand toward the entrance. “You are not needed.”
Jake frowned slightly, stepping in anyway. “Hey—come on, they’re hurt—”
“They do not need to be coddled,” Neytiri cut in sharply, finally turning to face him.
“They do not need to be excused for their actions,” Ronal added, already moving back toward their daughters, her focus returning to the task at hand.
Jake’s jaw tightened. “But they are hurt,” he pushed, glancing toward (Y/n), then to Si’riya. “And you’re coming down hard on them—”
“No,” Neytiri said, firm. Flat. Final. “This is necessary.”
Tonowari stepped forward slightly, his tone calmer but still carrying weight. “They have already learned from the pain—”
“And now they will learn from us,” Ronal replied without looking up.
Her hands worked steadily, precise, controlled. No room for argument.
Jake exhaled slowly, glancing at Tonowari.
This was not going their way. At all.
“…those poor kids,” he muttered under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck.
Tonowari huffed quietly beside him. “We cannot save them now.”
That earned them both a sharp look from Neytiri.
“Then perhaps next time,” she said pointedly, “you will think before allowing it to reach this point.”
Jake opened his mouth— closed it again.
Yeah.
Nothing he said was going to fix this. Not now.
He glanced once more toward his daughter—
caught the briefest flicker of her eyes toward him— then stepped back.
Tonowari did the same.
They retreated. Out of the mauri. Leaving their daughters to face the rest of it.
Jake let out a long breath the moment they were clear. “…we’re dead,” he muttered.
Tonowari gave a quiet, resigned nod. “Entirely.”
Jake lingered just outside the mauri for a moment longer, arms folding loosely across his chest as he exhaled, the tension finally easing now that the storm had passed—at least inside.
Then, like nothing had happened—“So… about that bet,” he said, glancing sideways at Tonowari.
Tonowari let out a long, tired sigh, rubbing a hand over his face before dropping it again.“…come,” he said, resigned. “Let us go and get your prize.”
Jake’s mouth twitched slightly, something lighter settling back into his expression. “Appreciate it.”
They started walking along the edge of the village, the sounds of the ocean filling the space between them for a few moments.
“Your daughter fights well,” Tonowari said after a beat, his tone measured, but honest.
Jake nodded once. “So does yours.”
Then, quieter— “They were really out for blood.”
Tonowari huffed faintly. “Yes.”
“Hopefully…” Jake added, glancing back toward the mauri briefly, “…that got some of it out of their system.”
Tonowari didn’t answer immediately. Just looked ahead. “…we will see.”
Jake let out a quiet breath through his nose, then shook his head slightly, a faint smirk returning. “I see your kid throws you to the viperwolves as well,” he said.
Tonowari gave him a sidelong look. “And I see your daughter has no issue with getting you in trouble.” Jake snorted.
“Yeah,” he muttered. “That was a low blow.”
Tonowari’s expression didn’t change much— but there was the slightest hint of amusement there now.
“They learn quickly.”
Jake huffed a quiet laugh. “Too quickly.”
Neytiri and Ronal paused just inside the mauri.
Their daughters lay where they had been left—finally still, finally quiet, the fight burned out of them, replaced by exhaustion and the dull ache of everything that followed.
Ronal’s gaze lingered a fraction longer than she intended. “I see your mate is also… gentle with your daughter.”
Neytiri’s eyes flicked to her briefly. There was no judgement in the words. Only observation. Understanding.
“Yes,” she said simply. “I see yours also cannot bring himself to encourage discipline.”
Ronal huffed softly—almost a breath of agreement more than amusement. “Yes.”
Another glance passed between them.
Because they both understood the same thing—their mates would soften where they themselves would not.
Would hesitate where they would not allow it.
Would protect first— correct later.
Ronal gave a small nod, and Neytiri returned it just as subtly.
Then the moment passed.
They moved again. Back to their daughters.
Hands steady.
Voices firm.
Finishing what had been started.
The mauri had finally settled.
Ronal finished binding the last of Si’riya’s injuries with precise, practiced movements, tightening the wrap just enough to hold, not enough to harm.
Neytiri did the same beside her, securing the final bandage along (Y/n)’s side, her hands firm but careful, checking it once more before sitting back slightly.
For a moment—neither woman spoke.
They just looked at their daughters.
Taking in the damage. The stubborn set of their expressions. The way neither of them seemed remotely remorseful.
Ronal exhaled slowly. “You will both remain here,” she said at last, her tone leaving no room for argument, “until you have healed.”
“And perhaps in that time…” her gaze sharpened slightly, “you will learn some manners.”
(Y/n) rolled her eyes.
Si’riya did the same.
Perfectly in sync.
Neytiri closed her eyes briefly.
Not out of anger— out of sheer, exhausted restraint. “Do not test me further,” she said quietly, though the weight behind it was unmistakable.
That got a slight shift from (Y/n).
Si’riya huffed softly, sinking back into the mat with a small wince as her body reminded her exactly why this was happening.
The fight was over. The lesson— very much not.
Ronal rose to her feet, brushing her hands clean, her expression composed once more.
Neytiri followed, though her gaze lingered just a second longer on her daughter before she stood.
They had said what needed to be said. Done what needed to be done.
At this point—there was nothing left but time.
And hopefully— a little sense sinking in.
Next >
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