“Again.” Tsireya’s voice was patient, kind even, but you could see the concern in her eyes. You’d been at this for hours and you still couldn’t hold your breath for more than a minute. Beside you, Kiri seemed to be managing, and even Tuk was doing better than you. Lo’ak was showing off as usual, probably trying to impress Tsireya with how quickly he was picking things up.

“I need a break,” you said, hating how defeated you sounded. You were a skilled hunter back home, and here you were, struggling with something children could do.

“That is fine,” Tsireya said. “We can continue later.”

You pulled yourself onto the nearest platform, water streaming off your body. Your lungs felt tight, your throat raw from salt water. This was humiliating.

“Pathetic.”

The word cut through the air and you didn’t need to look up to know who it was. Ao’nung had made his opinion of your family clear from the moment you’d arrived. Freaks, he’d called you. Demon-blooded. Not true Na’vi.

“Got something to say?” you asked, finally looking at him. He stood with his arms crossed, that same condescending smirk on his face that made you want to punch him. He was tall, muscular in the way reef people were, built for swimming and diving. Objectively, you could admit he was attractive. Subjectively, he was the most infuriating person you’d ever met.

“I am saying it. You cannot even manage a basic breath-hold. What will you do when you need to hunt? Starve?” His eyes raked over you dismissively. “Perhaps you should have stayed in your forest.”

Your jaw clenched. “We didn’t have a choice.”

“There is always a choice. You chose to bring your war here. To put my people in danger.” He stepped closer and you stood, refusing to let him tower over you even though he had a good six inches on you. “Tell me, forest girl, what happens when the sky people follow you here? When our children die because you were too coward to face your own problems?”

“That’s enough.” Jake’s voice rang out across the platform. Your father looked exhausted, the kind of tired that went bone-deep. “We’re grateful for your father’s hospitality. We’re learning your ways. That’s all we can do.”

Ao’nung’s expression flickered with something that might have been respect for your father, but when his eyes landed back on you, there was nothing but contempt. “Learn faster,” he said, then dove into the water with barely a splash, disappearing into the depths.

You stood there, dripping and furious, your hands balled into fists.

“Ignore him,” Lo’ak said, hauling himself onto the platform. “He’s just an asshole.”

“He’s not wrong though,” you muttered. “We did bring our problems here.”

“Hey.” Lo’ak grabbed your shoulder, forcing you to look at him. “Dad made the call he thought was right. We’re here now. We’ll figure it out.”

You wished you had his confidence.

The days blurred together. Wake up, struggle through lessons, endure Ao’nung’s comments, go to sleep sore and frustrated. Your siblings were adapting faster than you. Even Lo’ak, who’d always been reckless and unfocused back home, seemed to be thriving here. You watched him joke with Tsireya, saw the way she laughed at his stupid comments, and something bitter twisted in your chest.

You’d always been the steady one. The reliable one. The one who kept Lo’ak out of trouble and helped Kiri when her head got too lost in the clouds. Now you were the one holding everyone back.

“Your breathing is wrong.” Ronal’s voice was sharp as she observed the lesson. The Tsahik scared you more than you wanted to admit. She’d made her opposition to your family’s presence clear, and unlike her son’s teenage posturing, her disapproval carried actual weight.

“I’m trying,” you said through gritted teeth.

“Trying is not enough. You must slow your heartbeat. Breathe from here.” She pressed a hand to your stomach, hard enough that you gasped. “From your center. You breathe like prey, quick and panicked. You must breathe like a hunter.”

You wanted to snap that you were a hunter, that you’d made your first kill at fourteen and had brought down a thanator at seventeen. But that didn’t matter here. Here you were useless.

Ronal studied you for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then she said something that surprised you. “You are afraid.”

“I’m not—”

“You are. I see it. Fear makes the body tight, makes the breath shallow.” Her voice was still stern but something in her eyes had shifted, just slightly. “What are you afraid of?”

The honest answer sat in your throat. I’m afraid of being useless. I’m afraid we made a mistake coming here. I’m afraid the sky people will find us and it will be my fault when people die.

“Nothing,” you lied.

Ronal made a dismissive sound. “Then you will continue to fail. Fear must be acknowledged before it can be released.” She turned away, already moving to correct Tuk’s form. “Again,” she called over her shoulder.

You dove under, forcing your eyes open against the salt sting. The reef was beautiful, you could admit that. Colors that didn’t exist in the forest, fish that moved in shimmering schools, coral formations that looked like art. You could see why the Metkayina loved this place.

Your lungs started to burn. You pushed yourself, counting the seconds. Sixty. Seventy. Your chest was tight. Eighty. Ninety. Your vision was starting to blur at the edges. One hundred. One ten. One—

Your body made the decision for you, forcing you to the surface. You broke through gasping, immediately angry at yourself.

“Ninety seconds.” Ao’nung’s voice came from behind you. You spun to find him floating there, barely treading water. Showing off how easy this was for him. “Better than yesterday.”

You waited for the insult, the mocking comment. But he just watched you with those sharp eyes, expression neutral.

“What do you want?” you asked.

“To tell you that you are breathing wrong. You are trying to fight the water. You cannot fight the water. You must move with it.”

“I’m not asking for your help.”

“I am not offering it. I am stating a fact.” He dove under, and you watched his form cut through the water with effortless grace. When he surfaced again, he was twenty feet away. “Slow your heart. The body follows the mind. Or continue to struggle. I do not care either way.”

He disappeared again, leaving you treading water and confused. Was that… advice? From Ao’nung? The same guy who’d been making your life hell for weeks?

“Don’t think about it too hard,” Tsireya said, swimming up beside you. “My brother is complicated.”

“Your brother is an asshole.”

She laughed at that, bright and genuine. “Yes. But he is not wrong about the breathing. You are trying too hard, using too much energy. Here.” She placed a hand on your chest, over your heart. “Feel how fast this beats? You must calm it. Think of something peaceful. Something that makes you feel safe.”

You closed your eyes, trying to think of something, anything that felt peaceful. The memories that came were all from the forest. Climbing through the canopy with your siblings. The smell of your mother’s cooking. The sound of your grandmother’s songs.

Your heart slowed.

“Good,” Tsireya said softly. “Now breathe. Slow and deep.”

You did. And when you dove under again, you managed two minutes.

Three weeks in and you were starting to get the hang of it. Not proficient by any means, but improving. You could hold your breath for nearly four minutes now, could swim without feeling like you were fighting the tide, could even dive deep enough to touch some of the coral formations.

Lo’ak was spending every free moment with Tsireya. Young love, your mother called it with an indulgent smile. It was cute, you guessed, watching your brother actually apply himself to something for once because he wanted to impress a girl.

Ao’nung had mostly left you alone lately. He still made comments, still radiated disapproval whenever your family was around, but he’d stopped directing his worst venom at you specifically. You didn’t know what had changed and you weren’t about to ask.

You were helping repair fishing nets when you overheard it. A group of younger reef boys, maybe fifteen or sixteen, talking in low voices that still carried across the water.

“—demon blood,” one was saying. “My father says they will bring destruction to our village.”

“The Tsahik agrees. I heard her talking to the elders. She wants them gone.”

“Ao’nung’s father is too soft. Giving them shelter, teaching them our ways. For what? So they can bring war to our home?”

Your hands stilled on the net. You should walk away, should ignore this. But your feet wouldn’t move.

“I say we make them want to leave on their own,” another voice said. “They do not belong here. The sooner they realize it, the better.”

You should have walked away. Instead, you stood, the net falling from your hands. “Say that to my face.”

The boys turned, startled. When they saw you, their expressions shifted from surprise to something uglier. The oldest one, the one who’d been talking about making you leave, sneered. “Gladly. You do not belong here, forest girl. You and your freak family should go back to where you came from.”

“We were invited. By your Olo’eyktan. Who you seem to think you have authority to question.” You stepped closer, using every inch of height you had even though these boys were bigger than you. “You want us gone? Take it up with Tonowari.”

“Or maybe we take it up with you.” The boy stepped forward too, aggressive, posturing. His friends flanked him. You were suddenly very aware that you were alone and outnumbered.

But you’d faced sky people. You’d faced worse than some bigoted teenagers.

“Try it,” you said.

What happened next happened fast. The boy reached for you, probably just meant to push you, to intimidate you. But you’d been training as a warrior since you were twelve. Your body reacted on instinct. You caught his wrist, twisted, used his momentum against him. He went down hard on the platform.

His friends rushed you. You got one in the stomach with your elbow, heard the air whoosh out of him. But then there were hands grabbing you, pulling you toward the edge of the platform, toward the water. You fought, but there were too many of them.

You went into the water hard, disoriented. Hands pushed you down, holding you under. Your lungs burned. You thrashed, trying to break free, but they were stronger here, in their element.

This is it, you thought distantly. This is how it ends. Drowned by a bunch of kids who think they’re protecting their home.

Then suddenly the hands were gone. You shot to the surface, gasping and coughing. When your vision cleared, you saw Ao’nung holding two of the boys by their necks, his face twisted in fury.

“What do you think you are doing?” His voice was low, dangerous. You’d heard him angry before but this was different. This was the voice of a future leader, someone who expected immediate obedience.

“We were just—” one of the boys started.

“You were attempting to drown her.” Ao’nung’s grip tightened and the boy gasped. “Do you know what the punishment is for attempting to kill someone under my father’s protection?”

The boys had gone pale.

“I should let you find out. I should drag you before the Olo’eyktan and let him decide your fate.” He shoved them away, disgust clear on his face. “Get out of my sight. If I hear of you going near any of the Sullys again, we will finish this conversation.”

The boys fled. You stayed in the water, still catching your breath, trying to process what just happened.

Ao’nung turned to you. His expression was hard to read. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine.”

“You are not fine. They had you under for nearly a minute.” He pulled himself onto the platform and then, to your surprise, offered you a hand.

You stared at it for a moment before accepting. His grip was strong, pulling you up easily.

“Why did you help me?” you asked.

He didn’t answer right away. Just studied you with those sharp, assessing eyes. Finally, he said, “Because you are under my father’s protection. An attack on you is an attack on his authority.”

“That’s the only reason?”

“What other reason would there be?” But he looked away as he said it, and you got the sense he was lying.

“I had it handled,” you said.

“You were drowning.”

“I got jumped. Four on one. It happens.”

“It should not happen. Not here. Not to someone my father has offered sanctuary to.” He seemed genuinely angry about it, which was confusing coming from someone who’d spent the last month making it clear he didn’t want you here.

“Well. Thanks. I guess.” It felt awkward, thanking someone who’d been your main antagonist since arrival.

Ao’nung nodded once, sharp. Then he turned to leave.

“Wait,” you called. He paused, looking back. “Why do you hate us so much? And don’t say it’s about the war. I know there’s more to it than that.”

For a long moment, you didn’t think he’d answer. Then he said, “You want honesty? Fine. I look at you and your family and I see everything my people are not. You come from a place of war, of violence. You have fought sky people, killed them. You carry that with you, in the way you move, the way you watch everything like you expect an attack.”

“Because we do expect an attack. We’ve been at war our entire lives.”

“Exactly. And now you bring that here. To our home. To our peaceful waters.” His jaw clenched. “My sister looks at your brother like he hung the stars. She does not see what I see. She does not see that he is reckless, dangerous. That he will get her hurt or worse.”

“Lo’ak would never—”

“Not intentionally. But it will happen anyway. Because that is what happens around your family. Chaos. Destruction.” He took a breath, seeming to forcibly calm himself. “I do not hate you. I hate what you represent. I hate that my father felt he had no choice but to offer you sanctuary. I hate that my sister is falling for someone who will break her heart when you inevitably leave or when the sky people come and kill you all.”

It was the most honest he’d been since you arrived. And maybe it was because you’d nearly died, or maybe it was because you were tired of all the hostility, but you found yourself saying, “I get it.”

He looked surprised.

“I get it,” you repeated. “You’re scared. You’re trying to protect your family, your home. I understand that. I’ve been doing the same thing my whole life.” You wrung out your hair, suddenly exhausted. “For what it’s worth, I don’t want to be here either. I miss my home. I miss feeling competent. I hate that we brought our problems to your door. But we’re here. And we don’t have anywhere else to go. So maybe we can both stop pretending the other doesn’t exist and just… coexist.”

Ao’nung stared at you for a long moment. Then, surprisingly, his mouth quirked up in something that might have been the ghost of a smile.

“Coexist,” he repeated.

“Yeah. Radical concept, I know.”

This time he definitely smiled, just a little. “You are not what I expected.”

“Yeah, well. You’re exactly what I expected.”

He laughed at that, actually laughed, and the sound was so unexpected you found yourself smiling too.

“I am going to pretend that was a compliment,” he said.

“Take it however you want.”

He shook his head, that almost-smile still playing at his lips. Then he dove into the water and was gone, leaving you standing there wondering what the hell just happened.

Things shifted after that. Not dramatically, not all at once, but gradually. Ao’nung stopped going out of his way to antagonize you. He still made comments, still had that air of superiority that made you want to throttle him, but the real venom was gone.

You found yourself watching him sometimes, when you thought he wasn’t looking. Watching the way he moved through the water, the way he interacted with his sister, the way he took his role as future Olo’eyktan seriously even at nineteen. He was a good teacher, you realized. Patient with the younger kids, firm but fair with his peers.

He caught you staring once. Raised an eyebrow in question.

“Your form is good,” you said, because you had to say something.

“I know.” Cocky as ever. But then he added, “Yours is improving.”

It might have been the nicest thing he’d ever said to you.

The lessons continued. You were up to seven minutes on your breath-hold now, could dive deep enough to hunt, could keep up with the others on the ilu rides across the reef. Ronal had even given you a grudging nod of approval last week, which felt like a bigger victory than anything else.

Lo’ak and Tsireya were officially courting now, whatever that meant for the Metkayina. It was sweet, watching them together. Your brother had never been so focused on anything in his life.

“Your brother is going to ask Tsireya to be his mate,” Ao’nung said one day.

You were sitting on a platform together, repairing a fishing spear. When exactly you’d started sitting together, working together, you couldn’t say. It had just sort of happened.

“They’re young,” you said.

“So are we.”

You glanced at him. “We’re nineteen.”

“Yes. Old enough to know our own minds. Old enough to make our own choices.” He was quiet for a moment, focusing on the spear. Then: “Would you try to stop him? If he asked her?”

“No. It’s his life. His choice.”

“That is very reasonable of you.”

“Don’t sound so surprised.”

“I am not surprised. I have learned you are more reasonable than I gave you credit for.” He tested the sharpness of the spear tip, nodded in satisfaction. “I have been unfair to you.”

You nearly dropped your own spear. “What?”

“I said I have been unfair. The things I said when you first arrived, the way I treated you. It was wrong.”

“Are you… apologizing?”

“Do not make me say it twice.” But there was no heat in his words, just a kind of wry amusement.

“I’m just shocked you’re capable of admitting you were wrong.”

“I am capable of many things that would shock you.”

There was something in his tone that made you look up, really look at him. He was watching you with an intensity that made your breath catch.

“Like what?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Like recognizing when I have made a mistake. Like changing my mind about someone I was determined not to like.” He set the spear aside, turning to face you fully. “Like admitting that I find you fascinating.”

Your heart was suddenly beating very fast. “Fascinating.”

“Yes. You are stubborn and defensive and you never back down even when you should. You argue with me constantly. You question everything. You make me want to either kiss you or throw you into the ocean, sometimes both at once.”

You couldn’t breathe. “Ao’nung—”

“I know this is unexpected. I know I have given you no reason to see me as anything but an asshole, as your brother so eloquently puts it.” His jaw clenched. “But I cannot stop thinking about you. I have tried. Eywa knows I have tried. You are supposed to be temporary. You and your family are supposed to leave when the threat passes and I should want that. I should want you gone.”

“But you don’t,” you said softly.

“No. I do not. And I do not know when that changed. Perhaps it was when I saw you refuse to give up, day after day, even when everything was difficult. Perhaps it was when you stood up to those boys even though you were outnumbered. Perhaps it was a hundred small moments I did not notice until suddenly I was noticing everything about you.”

You couldn’t find words. Your brain had short-circuited somewhere around “I find you fascinating.”

“You do not have to say anything,” Ao’nung said, misreading your silence. “I know I have no right to feel this way. I know I have done nothing to earn your good opinion. I just… I needed you to know. I needed to be honest with you.”

“I think I might hate you,” you said.

He flinched, but nodded. “I understand.”

“No, I mean—” You grabbed his arm before he could pull away. “I think I might hate you because you’re not supposed to be right. You’re not supposed to be the person who pushes me to be better. You’re not supposed to make me laugh when I’m frustrated or challenge me when I’m being stubborn. You’re not supposed to look at me like I’m something special when I still feel like I’m barely keeping my head above water here.”

His eyes were very wide. “I do not understand.”

“I’m saying I think I might be fascinated by you too, and I hate it because it’s inconvenient and complicated and you drove me absolutely insane for weeks.”

“And now?” His voice was rough.

“Now you still drive me insane. But differently.”

The smile that spread across his face was like watching the sun rise. Slow and bright and inevitable. “Differently,” he repeated.

“Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late.” But he was already leaning closer, one hand coming up to cup your cheek. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

You didn’t want him to stop. You kissed him first, closing the distance between you before you could overthink it.

The kiss was everything you’d expected and nothing like you’d imagined. He tasted like salt water and something sweeter, and his hand was gentle against your face even as the kiss deepened. When you finally broke apart, you were both breathing hard.

“Well,” you said, eloquently.

“Well,” he agreed.

You should probably talk about this. About what it meant, where it could go, all the logical concerns about courting someone from a different clan when your own status here was still uncertain.

Instead, you kissed him again.

Word spread fast in a village this size. Within days, everyone knew that you and Ao’nung were… something. Together, maybe. People had opinions about it. Lots of opinions.

Ronal’s expression when she first saw you together could have frozen the ocean. Tonowari looked thoughtful, assessing. Your father just looked tired, like this was one more complication in an already complicated situation.

But Lo’ak was thrilled. “Does this mean we’re going to be related?” he asked, grinning. 

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” you muttered, even as Ao’nung’s hand found yours under the table.

Tsireya was delighted, immediately pulling you aside to talk. “I knew it,” she said. “I told Lo’ak weeks ago that you two would end up together.”

“We’re not—I mean, it’s early—” You stumbled over the words.

“It does not matter. I see the way he looks at you. The way you look at him. My brother does not give his heart easily, but when he does, it is with everything he has.”

You thought about that later, sitting with Ao’nung on his favorite platform, watching the sun set over the water.

“Your sister says you don’t give your heart easily,” you said.

“My sister talks too much.” But there was affection in his voice.

“Is it true?”

He was quiet for a moment, his thumb tracing patterns on the back of your hand. “Yes,” he finally said. “I am… careful. My mother raised me to think about duty, about the clan, about what is best for the people. Personal desires come second.”

“And yet.”

“And yet.” He looked at you, and there was something vulnerable in his expression that you’d never seen before. “You make me want to be selfish. To choose what I want instead of what I should want.”

“What do you want?”

“You. This. A future where you stay here, where you become one of us, where I can court you properly without worrying that one day you will disappear back to your forest.”

The honesty of it stole your breath. “The sky people—”

“I know. I know they are still out there, still hunting you. I know the threat is real.” His grip on your hand tightened. “But you asked what I want. And I want you to stay. I want to build something with you. I want to argue with you every morning and kiss you every night and teach our children to swim someday.”

“Our children?”

He had the grace to look embarrassed. “I am getting ahead of myself.”

“A little.” But you were smiling. “Though for what it’s worth, I’m not planning on leaving.”

“No?”

“No. I miss the forest sometimes. I miss the trees and the green and the way everything smelled like life and growth. But this is home now. You are—” You paused, trying to find the right words. “You are home.”

He kissed you then, soft and sweet, and you thought maybe Tsireya was right. Maybe you’d been heading toward this moment since the day you arrived, since that first antagonistic meeting. Maybe all that anger and frustration had just been something else in disguise.

But of course, nothing could ever be simple.

It was Ronal who brought it up, during a gathering of the clan leaders and elders. You weren’t supposed to be there but you heard about it afterward from half a dozen sources, each version slightly different but the core the same.

“The boy may court my daughter if he wishes,” Ronal had said, speaking of Lo’ak and Tsireya. “But Ao’nung is different. He is my son. The future Olo’eyktan. He cannot tie himself to a girl from a family of fugitives.”

Your stomach had dropped when Tsireya told you. “What did Tonowari say?”

“He said it was Ao’nung’s choice to make. That he was old enough to know his own heart.” Tsireya squeezed your hand. “But my mother is not letting this go.”

You found Ao’nung at the edge of the village, sharpening his spear with more force than necessary. He looked up when you approached, and you could see the tension in every line of his body.

“You heard,” he said.

“Yeah.”

“I will talk to her. I will make her understand—”

“Ao’nung.” You knelt beside him, taking the spear from his hands before he could hurt himself. “She’s not entirely wrong.”

He stared at you. “What?”

“Your mom. She’s not wrong. You are the future Olo’eyktan. The people need to trust you, need to believe you’ll put them first. And choosing me… it’s a risk.”

“I do not care.”

“I know. But maybe you should.” You took a breath. “Your mother thinks I’m going to bring trouble here. That my family is cursed or marked or whatever. And honestly? She might be right. The sky people are still out there. They’re still looking for us. One day they might find us. And when they do—”

“We will fight. Together. As a clan.”

“And people will die. Your people. Because of us. Because of me.” Your throat was tight. “I don’t want to be the reason your mother is proven right. I don’t want to be the reason your people suffer.”

Ao’nung cupped your face in his hands, forcing you to look at him. “Listen to me. You are not responsible for the sky people. You are not responsible for the war. You are not responsible for any of the violence that has followed your family.” His voice was fierce. “You are responsible for showing up every day and working harder than anyone else to learn our ways. You are responsible for treating my people with respect and kindness. You are responsible for making me believe that maybe my mother is wrong, that maybe strength comes not from isolation but from unity.”

“That’s a pretty speech.”

“It is the truth. And I will say it as many times as necessary until you believe it.” He pressed his forehead to yours. “I am not giving you up because my mother has concerns. I am not giving you up because the future is uncertain. I am not giving you up at all. Unless you want—”

“I don’t,” you interrupted. “I don’t want to give this up either. I’m just scared.”

“Of what?”

“Of failing you. Of failing your people. Of being the disaster your mother thinks I am.”

“You could never be a disaster.” He kissed your forehead, soft and gentle. “You are brave and stubborn and you never give up. Those are exactly the qualities my people need in their future Tsahik.”

“I’m not—we haven’t even talked about—”

“I know. I am getting ahead of myself again.” But he was smiling. “For now, just be with me. Let me worry about my mother. Let me handle the politics and the clan concerns. You just focus on being yourself. That is more than enough.”

You wanted to believe him. And looking into his eyes, seeing the absolute certainty there, you thought maybe you could.

Ronal cornered you three days later.

You were helping prepare food for the evening meal, gutting fish alongside some of the other women. You felt her presence before you saw her, that commanding energy that made everyone instinctively straighten.

“Walk with me,” she said. It wasn’t a request.

You followed her away from the village, down to a more secluded part of the reef. Your heart was pounding. This was it. She was going to tell you to stay away from her son, to know your place, to stop reaching above your station.

“You are afraid,” Ronal said, echoing her words from months ago.

“A little,” you admitted.

“Good. Fear means you are smart enough to understand the situation.” She studied you with those sharp eyes. “I do not like this thing between you and my son.”

“I know but—”

“But.” She held up a hand when you started to speak. “I do not like it because it is complicated. Because it challenges the way I have always seen things. Not because you are unworthy.”

You blinked. “What?”

“I have watched you these past months. I have seen you struggle and fail and get back up and try again. I have seen you treat my people with respect, even when they did not deserve it. I have seen you learn our ways with dedication and sincerity.” She paused. “And I have seen my son become someone I barely recognize when he is with you. Softer. Kinder. More patient.”

“Tsahik—”

“Let me finish. When the sky people come—and they will come, do not fool yourself about that—we will need warriors. We will need strategy. We will need unity.” Her gaze was piercing. “My son believes you and your family can help provide that. I am beginning to think he may be right.”

You didn’t know what to say. This was so far from what you’d expected.

“But,” Ronal continued, her voice hardening, “if you hurt him, if you prove to be the disaster I fear, there will be nowhere in this ocean you can hide from me. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” you said immediately.

“Good.” She turned to leave, then paused. “He asked me to give you a chance. To see you as he sees you. I am trying. Do not make me regret it.”

Then she was gone, leaving you standing there trying to process what had just happened.

When you told Ao’nung later, he looked unsurprised. “I told you I would handle my mother.”

“You talked to her?”

“I did more than talk. I told her I was going to court you whether she approved or not. That she had raised me to know my own mind, to make my own decisions, and this was my decision.” He pulled you into his arms. “I also may have pointed out that she mated outside her own clan when she was younger, before my father became Olo’eyktan. That she of all people should understand.”

“You’re kind of devious.”

“I prefer to think of it as strategic.” He kissed the top of your head. “She will come around fully. She just needs time.”

“And if she doesn’t?”

“Then I will deal with it. But I think she will. My mother respects strength and dedication. You have both.” His arms tightened around you. “Besides, she already likes you more than she lets on. I can tell.”

You weren’t sure you believed that, but you wanted to. And maybe that was enough for now.

This was home. He was home. And you were done running.

The tide had brought you here, through anger and struggle and fear. But it had also brought you to this moment, to this person, to this love.

At first, it came as a surprise to many when you and the prince of the reef started dating, he had a reputation for being a ‘tough guy’, while you were one of the quieter girls with peculiar interests. Before the two of you became a pair, members of the clan imagined that Ao’nung would find someone who matched his fierce character, perhaps a skilled hunter like himself but turns out, you were just the thing he needed, as well as the only person who could see right through his ‘tough’ act.

The differences between the two of you were evident, yet they only drew you closer together. Although you barely spoke, even before your first interaction, he seemed to know a lot about you while you on the other hand, knew very little about him, who was significantly louder than you.

The future olo’eyktan had an outgoing personality, accustomed to always being the centre of attention — you, kept to yourself and relished the peaceful moments by the ocean. He was in the middle of every festival, you were sat in the corner, entertaining yourself with a small creature that rested in the palm of your hand. What the metkayina prince appreciated most about your shyness, was how no one else was able get a proper conversation out of you, not the way he could.

Ao’nung would lay leaned back in the sand, his eyes full of admiration, as you would run over to him, excited to show him the beautiful pieces you had collected. He was never a listener, no, he could talk for hours but when it came to you, everything flipped, suddenly nothing he had to say mattered anymore because all he wanted was to listen to you speak.

He could never deny you either, not when you looked at him with those big glossy eyes of yours, so anything you asked for, he would do. The first time his family witnessed this, Ronal thought her pregnancy was causing her to see things while Tonowari’s eyes widened in disbelief at his son’s obedience to his girlfriend, silently attempting to communicate across the table with Tsierya, but she didn’t seem amused. By now, all of Awa’atlu had noticed the change in Ao’nung who would follow you around like a lost puppy.

Some might even say he was whipped — not to his face, of course. His behavior never softened for anyone else, if anything, it grew harsher every second he wasn’t with you, the only one who could unlock that gentler side of him.

Although no one mentioned it out loud, many members of the clan admired you for somehow bringing a man, as stubborn as yours, to his knees with just a bat of your lashes.

── .✦

Ao’nung has been annoyed all day, shouting at his friends for the smallest mistakes during training as if he already was olo’eyktan. However his best friend, who has known him his whole life, immediately connected the dots that it had something to do with you.

“Have you seen her today, bro?”

Rotxo asked, questioning the clearly irritated man next to him, slightly leaning away in case Ao’nung would smack him again for mentioning you.

Luckily enough, he didn’t.

“No.” He sighed, his response bland but still far better than the physical assault he had bestowed on the shorter boy beside him earlier. Rotxo knew that the only way to get his friend out of his bad mood (so that he couldn’t take it out on him anymore) was to encourage him to leave his duties a bit earlier and find you, his anchor.

“I’ll cover for you, go talk to her cuz.” He smiled, not because he’d done good deed for his best friend, but because he’d finally be able to speak freely without being on the receiving end of a death stare each time he opened his mouth.

Before heading toward the direction of where he knew you’d be, Ao’nung stopped and patted the shorter male on the shoulder in gratitude, “Thanks man, I owe you.” Lo’ak’s and Spider’s slang really did seem to be rubbing off on everyone…

𓂃✍︎ to sum it up,

no you = angry ao’nung = everyone scared

On the other hand, unlike Ao’nung whose entire day depended on whether you chose to acknowledge him or not, you have been enjoying your afternoon. The sunlight flickered across your back as you took small steps into the ocean, carefully slipping in, your mind focused on retrieving that seashell you had set your sights on. The water closed around you like a second skin, rising from your ankles to your waist as you waded deeper.

Ignoring the fact that you were not the best swimmer, you continued to go more and more into the cool water — reminding yourself of how wonderful that seashell would look on Ao’nung’s loincloth (which was the only reason you were doing this) for motivation. Taking one last steady breath, you fully dove beneath the surface, the sounds of everything around you dissolving into a muted hush as you moved closer to your goal.

You weren’t someone who took risks by any means, more like someone who, once set their mind on something, acted on impulse, which tended to really bother your boyfriend who worried for you. You could almost hear his voice in the back of your head telling you to turn back, but with the water pulling at you and your prize somewhere below, your instincts took over, turning him out and guiding you deeper without any thought. After all, what kind of metkayina were you if you couldn’t handle a little bit of water?

A smile formed on your lips when you finally spotted the seashell, reaching for it with your hand — you were so close, just a stretch away, only a small lean forward from making the vision of Ao’nung in a sexy loincloth that matched yours, a reality. So close just—

Suddenly, a voice from the shore broke through the peaceful silence of the ocean, making you pause mid dive as you questioned whether it was real or your imagination. Unfortunately for you, it was very real. You must have jinxed it with how much you were thinking of him because you recognised the distorted voice calling out to you as the one of your boyfriend’s. Was he not supposed to be on duty?

Your heart began to race when you heard familiar sound again, which was exactly the opposite of what should be happening while you were underwater. You urgently kicked upward, swimming toward the surface, already aware of the scolding that awaited you, that is if he can resist giving into your glossy eyes, which he never usually could. Ewya had gifted you with big, doe-like eyes, and you knew just how to use them to get what you wanted.

Peeking your head out of the water to gasp for air, you see Ao’nung who is visibly pissed, jumping into the water after you. Only then did you realise just how far you’d actually swum — you could say that your boyfriend was sometimes great motivation. With each deliberate stroke, you moved closer to your lover, meanwhile planning on how you could manipulate him into not being upset with you.

The feeling of a warm hand colliding with your hip made you shriek, immediately snapping you out off your thoughts. For a moment, you almost forgot that Ao’nung was known as the fastest swimmer in the clan for a reason.

“Ao’nung!” You exclaimed, pretending you hadn’t noticed the irritated expression on his face. He looks so hot when he’s mad.

Instead of greeting you wish a kiss like he typically would, he firmly grabbed you by the waist, trapping your body against his.

“Yawne,” he said sharply, “how could you be so reckless?”

“I—”

He quickly cuts you off, his grip around you tightening, “No, I leave my duties early thinking we could spend time togther but instead I find you half way outside the reef.”

He takes a deep breath, trying to his best to keep his composure so he doesn’t accidentally raise his voice, “Do you have any idea how many Akula lurk here at this time of day?”

Not giving you time to answer, Ao’nung tried to continue, but the moment he met your glossy gaze, he froze. You were looking at him with a soft expression, fluttering your lashes as if daring him to say what he had been about to.

Don’t give in Ao’nung, don’t give in, she could have hurt herself, this is serious.

Fuck, but she’s too cute

One of his hands lifted slowly, cupping your face, instant regret consuming his features, “Paskalin, I’m sorry, I was just worried that you could’ve been hurt, I—I would never forgive myself if that happened and I weren’t there to save you.”

You put your smaller hand over his, gently caressing it with your thumb in a comforting way, before opening your mouth to speak, “I’m sorry, Ma Ao’nung you were just worried, it’s my fault—”

To prevent you from blaming yourself any further, he crashed his lips against yours, using it as an excuse to pull you closer to his chest. If there was one thing the prince of the reef hated more than anything, it was you putting yourself down when in his eyes, you were an angel and could do no wrong.

“Nothing’s your fault, we’ll just forget this happened, tanhi.” He murmured into the kiss, not knowing that this had all been apart of your plan. At hearing his words, you tried your hardest not to grin so instead you just kissed him back with even more passion, playing with his hair as your tounges fought for dominance. You secretly loved how ‘whipped’ your boyfriend was for you, you could do as much as bat your lashes at him and he’d be on his knees, calling you his princess — his future Tsahìk.

You whine as he pulls away to take a breath. This time, when he leans in it’s not to kiss you, instead Ao’nung nuzzles his face into your neck, one of his hands sneakily travelling to the curve of your ass to embrace you into a hug. Now that he couldn’t see your face, you smirked to yourself at how oblivious your boyfriend was to your techniques.

“Mhm, you smell so good, princess.” He whispers, inhaling your scent. The feeling of Ao’nung’s hot breath against your skin causes your tail to instinctively curl around his muscular leg, making him let out a small chuckle. “Someone’s eager.”

You met his comment with a death stare, so to please you, he immediately wiped the smirk from his face, an act of obedience that earned him a kiss on the cheek.

“So paskalin, what made you swim all the way out here?” He asks teasingly, bending down to place kisses on your shoulder while awaiting for your answer.

“Well I really wanted to get this seashell—”

He didn’t wait for you to finish your sentence, his posture snapped straight, his gaze locking onto your pretty, glossy eyes as if silently urging you to tell him exactly what you wanted needed him to do.

Without you even having to say a word, his hand gave your ass one last gentle squeeze before he dived under the water, determined to fetch the seashell you asked for.

Who would’ve guessed that the tough, mean to everyone, future olo’eyktan was secretly such a good boy?

credits to @uzmacchiato (divider)

The sun hangs low over the reefs of Awa'atlu, casting a warm golden shimmer across the water that laps gently at the woven platforms of the village.

You sit cross-legged on a mat of dried kelp, your form draped in a simple top of woven fibers that clings lightly to the gentle swell of your breasts, the fabric shifting with each breath. Your wide hips settle comfortably against the mat, a natural curve that draws lingering glances from the warriors passing by. Their eyes tracing the smooth teal skin of your thighs before they force themselves to look away. However you pay them no mind, your reserved nature a quiet shield. Your pretty face, framed by loose waves of dark hair adorned with small shells, turned toward your best friend.

Tsireya.

She's perched beside you, her laughter bubbling up like the foam on the waves. She’s the only one who can coax the playful spark from you, drawing out giggles and shared secrets that make the world feel lighter. Today though, her expression carries a mix of exasperation and fondness as she leans in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

"You won't believe the earful my brother got from Mother and Father last night. They were pacing the marui going on about his... habits."

You tilt your head, a soft smile tugging at your full lips, though your wide eyes hold a flicker of disapproval. Ao'nung, Tsireya's brother, the future Olo'eyktan, has always been a topic laced with complexity for you.

"What did they say this time?" You ask, your voice gentle as your fingers idly twisted a strand of seaweed while you listen.

Tsireya sighs rolling her eyes with dramatic flair, her tail flicking against the platform.

"The usual. That he's too old for this nonsense, that as the eldest and heir, he needs to be mindful of his actions. Ever since he passed his Iknimaya, it's like he's on a mission to bed half the village. Father said why must he tarnish his reputation with such recklessness and Mother was just staring him down."

She mimics Ronal's glare and you can't help but chuckle softly, the sound light and rare, reserved for these moments with her. You nod as your expression turned thoughtful, the sea breeze lifting strands of your hair to brush against your high cheekbones.

"I think he's handsome. However, it annoys me how he... how he takes women without any real feelings behind it. Sex is sacred, meant for mating, for tsaheylu, for binding souls under Eywa's gaze. Using it for anything less feels wrong, disgusting even." Your words come out measured, laced with a quiet conviction while your fingers stilled on the seaweed as you glance toward the path leading to the village center. "That's why I steer clear of him."

Tsireya's eyes widen slightly, a teasing glint in them, but before she can respond, movement catches your eye.

Speak of the devil, there he is.

Ao'nung striding past, his legs carrying him with effortless poise, the muscles in his thighs shifting beneath his loincloth. A giggling Metkayina woman clings to his arm, her hand trailing possessively over the intricate tattoos that mark his status. Her body pressed close to his side, her laughter high and breathless. His arm is slung around her waist, pulling her nearer as they walk.

"See?" Tsireya murmurs, her voice dripping with exasperation as she nudged your shoulder lightly with hers.

You feel a flush creep up your neck but you hold your gaze steady, watching as Ao'nung's eyes meet yours for a fleeting moment. There's a spark there, recognition flickering across his handsome features, the sharp line of his jaw tightening just a fraction.

Ao’nung finds you pretty, the way your delicate features and voluptuous form stand out even among the clan's beauties. But that's all it is, a passing appreciation, nothing more. His life is a whirlwind of duties as the future leader and the parade of women who vie for his attention. Tsireya's quiet best friend barely registers his mind amid the chaos of his everyday life.

A memory however surges in his mind, pulling him back to the night before. The marui had been thick with tension, the air heavy with the scent of healing herbs from his mother’s stores.

Tonowari sat on the woven bench, his massive frame hunched forward, arms crossed over his broad chest, the weight of leadership etched in the lines of his face.

"Son." He had rumbled, his voice deep and steady like the ocean's undertow. "You are to be Olo'eyktan. The clan looks to you for strength, for example. These... actions of yours is a headache we cannot afford. They respect you and follow you without question. Do not taint it."

Ronal had stood nearby, her posture rigid, hands clasped over her pregnant belly as she fixed Ao'nung with a gaze that could pierce kelp. "You are great at everything and yet this rendezvous of yours? It dishonors the path Eywa has set for you. Settle on one. Choose a mate. Be done with this foolishness before it stains our family's name or so help me Eywa, I will forget you are my son."

Her words had cut sharp, worry and frustration simmering beneath her calm for her eldest.

Ao'nung had leaned against the wall, his tattooed arms folded, a tilt to his lips that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I'll settle when Eywa wills it, Mother, Father. Not a moment sooner. I'm no skxawng, I know my duties but love? That's not something you command."

His tone had been firm, edged with unwavering resolve, though a shadow of doubt had lingered in the way his tail twitched.

Tonowari had sighed rubbing his temple while Ronal's lips pressed into a thin line, the conversation dissolving into uneasy silence.

The memory fades as quickly as it came, Ao'nung's gaze sliding away from yours back to the woman in his arms.

She whispers something in his ear, her fingers dancing along his chest and he smirks pulling her closer as they vanish around the bend of the path, their forms swallowed by the cluster of maruis.

You exhale softly turning back to Tsireya, your voice barely above the waves. "Your brother will probably never change unless a miracle happens."

She bursts into laughter, the sound bright and unrestrained, clapping a hand over her mouth as she nods vigorously. "Oh, you're right, (Y/N). A miracle indeed. But Eywa works in mysterious ways, doesn't she?"

You smile faintly, admitting to yourself the truth of your words earlier.

He is handsome, undeniably so.

The way his towering body moves through the water during hunts, spearing fish with unerring accuracy. Or how he's always been kind to you in passing, offering a steady hand when you stumbled on the reefs or sharing a quiet nod during clan gatherings. You've seen him help mend nets after storms, his strong arms hauling heavy loads without complaint. A great hunter whose prowess earns respect from even the elders. The only flaw, the one that sours it all is his reputation as a womanizer, leaving a trail of broken hearts in his wake.

The girls in the clan chatter endlessly about it, their voices hushed during weaving sessions. "One day, I'll be the one to change him, to make him see me as more than a night's diversion."

They dream of taming the untamable but you shake your head at the thought. The day Ao'nung officially courts someone or Eywa forbid forms tsaheylu and mates, that would be the miracle of the ages.

Tsireya shifts closer, her expression turning curious, a playful lilt in her voice.

"Speaking of miracles... have you thought any more about those courting proposals? Narku from the hunting party left that beautiful shell necklace for you last week and Kiri'ka's been sharpening his spear extra sharp hoping you'll notice." She waggles her eyebrows, her tone light but probing with a genuine concern for your happiness threading through it.

You duck your head shyly, purple heat blooming across your cheeks as your fingers traced patterns in the mat.

"No, Reya. I refused them all. The necklace, the carved ilu figurine from Teylan, even the rare pearl from Vo'lek. They're fine warriors, strong and honorable but... it doesn't feel right." Your voice is soft and laced with that deep-seated reservation you always have, your body language closing in slightly with your shoulders hunched as if to ward off the idea.

She pouts but her eyes sparkle with affection. "Why? You're the prettiest in the clan. You'd make someone so happy!"

You laugh quietly shaking your head, the motion sending your hair cascading over your shoulder. The day you finally accept a courting proposal or mate with someone, that will be a miracle.

"I'm not in a rush, Reya. If Eywa wills it, love will find me when the time is right. For now, I'm content being by myself hanging out with you like this." Your words carry a peaceful certainty, your light smile genuine as you meet her gaze, the bond between you unbreakable.

She groans theatrically flopping back onto the mat, but her grin betrays her. 'Fine, fine. But I won't stop pestering you. I just want you happy, you know that.'

Her persistence is born of love, the kind forged since you were both tiny wriggling infants in the maruis.

Your mother, Riki'ea, had been best friends with Ronal. The two of them inseparable through hunts and healings, sharing secrets under the stars. When Riki'ea died bringing you into the world, her last breath a plea to the Tsahik. Ronal had sworn on Eywa's light to care for you as her own.

"She will be my daughter too." Ronal had vowed, tears streaking her face, her hand on Riki'ea's cooling one.

Tonowari and Ronal had stepped in without hesitation, helping your father, Ar'von, raise you amid the clan's rhythms.

Ar'von had never taken another mate, his heart tethered to your mother's memory, pouring all his devotion into you. Teaching you to swim before you could walk, his deep voice singing lullabies of the ancestors. He was a great warrior, Tonowari's steadfast comrade, until that fateful storm when you were thirteen. The winds howled like anguished spirits, waves crashing against the outriggers as he dove into the churning sea to save injured hunters, his strong arms pulling them to safety one by one. But the sea claimed him in the end, his body lost to the depths, leaving a void that echoed in your young heart.

Since then, Ronal had drawn you under her wing, training you in the healings arts. The careful grinding of herbs, the soothing chants over the wounded. She watched over you with maternal protectiveness, her guidance a balm to your grief of losing two parents. And through it all, Tsireya had been your constant, the two of you attached at the hip, exploring tide pools and whispering dreams late into the night.

Ao'nung had always been there on the periphery, hovering like a shadow. Offering a hand to steady you during your first free dive or quietly mending a tear in your fishing net without fanfare. He never crossed that line to true closeness, not like Tsireya. He was too absorbed in his own world of friends and rigorous training to forge deeper bonds but he was nice in his distant way, his presence a reliable hum in the background of your life.

Then came his Iknimaya, the rite that transformed him. He returned from the trials with those striking tattoos, bold lines curling over his biceps tracing the planes of his chest and back, symbols of his maturity and prowess. Women had flocked to him immediately, drawn to his newfound poise, the air in his step as he flexed those marked arms during communal feasts. You found it annoying, the way he toyed with their affections, careless with hearts that beat for him in earnest.

You've no experience yourself, no knowledge of the heated tangles of bodies or the raw urges that drive such encounters. The elders' teachings have painted it as sacred. A profound union reserved for the one you love, the partner with whom you'll form tsaheylu, weaving your kurus in Eywa's eternal bond. You believe in that love, pure and enduring, the kind that honors the spirit as much as the flesh.

For that, Ao'nung's actions disgust you. A perversion of something so holy and in quiet moments like this, you hope faintly that he finds someone who can pierce through his armor, someone to change his ways and lead him toward the man he could truly be.

Hours later, the afternoon sun beats down on the turquoise expanse of the reef, turning the water into a glittering mosaic of light and shadow as you guide your ilu through the currents.

Your body moves in harmony with the creature's powerful undulations, legs wrapped firmly around its sleek form, the cool rush of water caressing your bare skin where your loincloth rides up slightly against your thighs.

Beside you, Tsireya calls out with a laugh, her voice carrying over the splashes of the group of other gatherers from the clan who had nets at the ready to scoop up schools of fish darting through the coral. Ao'nung leads the way ahead, his broad back cutting through the waves, tattoos rippling with each stroke of his arms, his ilu responding to his commands with effortless precision.

You're focused, eyes scanning the vibrant underwater world for the telltale shimmer of a catch, your hair streaming behind you like dark ribbons in the flow. The ilu beneath you surges forward suddenly, chasing a cluster of plump fish and you lean into the turn, heart quickening with the thrill.

But then, chaos.

A rogue current twists unexpectedly, slamming your ilu against a jagged outcrop of coral hidden just below the surface. Pain explodes in your skull as your head connects with the sharp edge in a white-hot flash that blinds you. The world tilts as the water swallowed your gasp and darkness rushes in pulling you under.

Tsireya's scream pierces the haze first, raw and frantic as she wheels her ilu around, eyes wide with terror. "(Y/N)! Eywa, no. Ao'nung! Help her!"

Her voice cracks, hands trembling as she reaches for you but you're limp. Your body floating adrift, blood threading faintly into the water from the gash on your temple.

Ao'nung is there in an instant, his ilu powering through the water like a spear.

He dives off without hesitation, strong arms wrapping around your waist to haul you against his chest, one hand cradling the back of your head to staunch the bleeding. Your unconscious form molds to him, soft curves pressing into the hard planes of his torso, your chest rising and falling shallowly against his ribs, wide hips settling against his as he kicks toward the surface. Water streams from your lashes, your pretty face pale and slack, lips parted in silent vulnerability.

This is the first time he's held you so close and under such a grim twist of fate. He thinks you're clumsy, always have been in your quiet way but seeing you like this, so breakable and fragile, stirs an unfamiliar knot in his gut.

"Tsireya, head to Mother’s marui!" He barks, voice edged with urgency he's not used to feeling as he surfaces with you in his arms, your head lolling against his shoulder.

Tsireya nods, tears streaking her cheeks, urging her ilu toward shore while Ao'nung swims quickly. Your weight no burden to his warrior's build. He doesn't let go until they're at the shallows, scooping you fully into his arms to carry you the rest of the way. Your legs dangling over his forearm, the warmth of your body seeping through his damp skin.

The path to Ronal's healing hut blurs in a rush of worried murmurs from the clan but Ao'nung pushes through with Tsireya at his side, her hand clutching your trailing arm. Inside the dim marui, the air thick with the scent of medicinal pastes and smoldering herbs, Ronal looks up sharply from her worktable, her expression shifting from calm to alarm.

"What happened?" She demands, gesturing to the woven pallet as Ao'nung lays you down gently, your hair fanning out like seaweed across the fibers.

"Coral strike, head injury." Ao'nung says tersely, stepping back but not leaving, his eyes fixed on the slow rise of your chest.

Tsireya hovers, wringing her hands. "She was gathering then just... gone under."

Ronal works swiftly, cleaning the wound with cool water, applying a poultice of ground leaves that smells sharp and earthy, her fingers deft and sure.

Ao'nung lingers uncharacteristically still, concern etching his features. You're his sister's shadow after all and up close like this, you seem so soft, your supple form curled slightly even in oblivion.

Hours slip by in tense vigil, the light outside fading to the soft glow of eclipse. You stir finally, eyelids fluttering open to the thatched ceiling, a dull throb pulsing in your temple.

Tsireya gasps, leaning over you, her face a mask of relief and worry. "(Y/N), oh thank Eywa you're awake. How do you feel? Does it hurt that badly?"

Her voice wavers, hand squeezing yours tightly as her fingers interlaced with your slender ones.

Ao'nung stands nearby, arms crossed over his tattooed chest, a hint of relief flickering in his teal eyes at your awakening. He's still here, against his usual instinct to bolt after crises, drawn by some pull he can't name.

You blink up at them, vision clearing, and your gaze lands on him. His strong jaw, his piercing stare, the faint scar on his lip from a hunt gone wrong during your teen years. A warmth blooms in your chest, instinctive and sure.

"Ao'nung... why are you so far? Come here, ma muntxa."

The words tumble out soft and earnest, your head tilting in innocent confusion as you shift on the pallet, wincing slightly at the pull of your wound.

The room falls silent, shock rippling through them. Tsireya's mouth drops open, her grip tightening.

"W-what? (Y/N), that's... you can't mean—" She's stammering, eyes darting to her brother, remembering all the times you've whispered your disdain for his ways, how you've avoided him like a tainted current.

Ao'nung's lips curve into a smirk at first, a low chuckle escaping, thinking it's delirium or a jest to lighten the mood. "Cute but save the teasing for when you're not half-drowned."

But you only frown deeper, propping yourself up on one elbow, your free hand reaching toward him, the curve of your arm revealing the gentle swell of your breast beneath your top.

"Why would I tease? And why am I lying here like this? We should be together..." Your voice trails off shy but puzzled, eyes searching his face with a trust that feels utterly natural to you.

Ronal steps forward, her presence commanding as she kneeled beside you with a gentle hand on your shoulder. "Child, tell me your last memory. What do you recall before waking up?"

Her tone is calm and probing, eyes sharp as she assesses the blankness in yours.

You pause searching inward but there's only fog, a void where days and details should be. "I... I don't remember. Nothing's clear."

Your fingers twist in the edge of the pallet, vulnerability etching your features making your wide eyes seem even larger.

She nods unperturbed then leans closer. "And these words, you say Ao'nung is your mate? Explain, little one."

A shy smile graces your lips, cheeks warming as you glance at him again, seeing Ronal's son but overlaid with the certainty of your mating bond.

"Yes, Tsahik. We've mated, haven't we? For months now. Tsaheylu and all." Your voice holds a quiet joy, hand still extended toward him ignoring the stunned stares.

Ronal's gaze flicks to Ao'nung, catching the way his smirk falters into wide-eyed disbelief, his tail flicking sharply. A subtle smile tugs at her own lips, something knowing in her eyes.

Eywa's hand perhaps, weaving threads in unexpected ways.

As Tsahik, she senses the fragility of your state, the selective amnesia a veil over your true memories, and stressing it now could shatter the delicate recovery. "Rest now, child. Your body's mending."

Sleep tugs at you already, eyelids growing heavy, though not before you murmur with a soft and pleading voice. "Ao'nung... closer, please?"

He hesitates then steps forward under his mother’s piercing glare, kneeling beside the pallet so your reaching hand can brush his arm, the contact sending a faint spark through you both.

As your breathing evens into slumber, Ronal straightens, turning to her children with a stern whisper. "She must not be overwhelmed. No stress as her mind is healing, piece by fragile piece. This is my best friend's daughter, I swore to Riki'ea I'd guard her like my own blood."

Her words carry the weight of that old vow, eyes softening briefly before hardening on Ao'nung.

He opens his mouth as frustration bubbled in his chest but Ronal's sharp glare silences him.

Tonowari, who has entered quietly, places a heavy hand on his son's shoulder, voice rumbling low. "Just until she gets her memories back, son."

Ao'nung groans rubbing a hand over his face, the muscles in his jaw clenching.

Ronal presses on unyielding as she met his stare head-on. "You'll care for her, Ao'nung. She believes you're mates, pulling away now would wound her deeper than any coral. Stay by her side and let her heal in that belief until she remembers on her own."

Tsireya sighs deeply crossing her arms, her protectiveness flaring like a sudden tide.

"That means you stop your flirting, stop chasing every girl who bats her eyes. Don't hurt her Ao’nung, not while she's like this, vulnerable. She's my best friend and I won't let you play with her heart." Her tone is fierce as her eyes narrowed, a sister's warning laced with genuine concern for you.

Frustration coils in Ao'nung's chest at this situation he did not ask for.

You're pretty, always have been. That face like carved coral, body a temptation of soft curves and inviting lines but he's woven into the fabric of attention, the eager presses of other women against him, their whispers and touches a constant rhythm.

This? Pretending a bond that doesn't exist? It chafes against his freedom.

Ronal nods firmly. "Carry her to your marui. Mates wouldn't sleep apart, keep the illusion steady for her sake."

He sighs a long and defeated one, bending to slide his arms beneath you. One under your knees, the other supporting your back. Your body lifts easily, light in his hold, head nestling instinctively against his chest, your breath warm on his skin.

Tsireya glares daggers at him as she crossed her arm. "Take care of her Ao’nung or you'll answer to me."

He nods curtly just so they can all shut up, striding out into the cooling evening, your form cradled close to his chest.

You've always turned heads but now, with your lashes fanned against your cheeks, lips softly parted, he lets his gaze trail. Over the inviting line of your neck, the gentle rise of your chest with each breath, the way your hair clings damply to your shoulders. Something stirs unbidden as he enters his marui, the space sparse but his own, the woven walls of it fluttering in the breeze.

Carefully, he lowers you onto his sleeping mat, arranging the soft hides around your form, your legs curling slightly in repose. He stares for a long moment conflicted, the quiet of the space amplifying the thud of his pulse. Then shaking his head, he turns and walks out, needing to blow off some steam.

Not diving into beds this time but still, perhaps some flirting or a stolen kiss in the dark, something to reclaim the ease he's losing with this new situation at hand.

The first rays of dawn filter through the woven walls of Ao'nung's marui, casting a soft pearlescent light over the space.

Your head throbs with a persistent ache like the dull echo of waves crashing far offshore, pulling you from sleep. You shift on the sleeping mat, the hides warm beneath your bare legs as you blink against the haze, instinctively reaching out for the familiar solid presence that should be beside you.

Your gaze lands on him.

Ao'nung seated cross-legged a few paces away, his broad back to you, shoulders rolling with the rhythmic scrape of stone against metal. He's sharpening his spear, the weapon balanced across his thighs, its tip gleaming sharper with each precise stroke. The muscles in his arms flex subtly, tattoos shifting like shadows over his teal skin, and you can't help the sleepy smile that curves your lips. A surge of warmth blooming in your chest at the sight of your mate tending to his tools so early.

Quietly, you push yourself up, ignoring the twinge in your temple and shuffle forward on your knees. The mat whispers under you as you close the distance, your arms sliding around his waist from behind, palms pressing flat against the firm ridges of his abdomen through the thin weave of his loincloth. You nuzzle into the warmth of his back, inhaling the clean masculine scent of him, more of a sea spray and sun-warmed skin.

"Good morning, 'Nungie." You murmur, voice thick with lingering drowsiness yet still laced with an adoration that feels as natural as breathing.

He stiffens instantly, body going rigid under your touch, the spear pausing mid-stroke.

The nickname hits him like a sudden current, intimate in a way that sends an unexpected jolt through him. Your voice wrapping around it the nickname with such unguarded affection that it’s almost cute to him. Memories of his mother's stern command and Tsireya's warnings flash in his mind. No stressing you, no pulling away, or face the fallout if you break down in tears to his sister.

He exhales slowly, forcing the tension from his frame, and leans back into your embrace, the solid weight of his shoulders settling against your chest.

He tells himself in a few weeks, your memories will resurface and he'll slip back into the life he knows. Surrounded by eager women, their hands on him, their laughter filling his nights. A free man and away from this tangled obligation.

"Good morning, (Y/N)." He replies in a casual tone, almost offhand as if this is just another dawn.

Your forehead creases in confusion, a flicker of hurt tightening your features. You pull back slightly, rising to your feet with a soft rustle then circle around to sit in front of him, your knees tucked under you. Your lips form a cute pout, full and downturned, drawing his eyes despite himself. The way it plumps your mouth, making you look endearingly petulant in his eyes.

"What's got your lips in a pout, (Y/N)?" He asks, curiosity edging his voice as he sets the spear aside, the stone clinking lightly against the floor.

The pout deepens as your eyes narrowed just a touch, hands folding in your lap where your fingers twist together.

"See? There it is again. Did I do something wrong?" Your words come out soft but insistent, a thread of worry weaving through them.

He chuckles, low and puzzled, head tilting as he studies your face. "Huh?"

"You keep calling me by name. Are you mad at me?"

The question hangs between you, your gaze searching his, vulnerable in its directness, the morning light catching the subtle glow of your eyes as you gaze at him.

Ao'nung's chuckle fades as realization dawned on him like the sun cresting the horizon.

Your amnesia has rewritten your dynamic into something far more personal and that probably includes nicknames. He has no clue what endearment your fractured mind has invented for itself but stressing the truth now would only invite chaos.

Playing it safe, he leans forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees, a teasing glint in his eyes. "Oh, then what is it you want me to call you so you can stop pouting?"

This way, he fishes information without revealing the gap and he can keep the illusion intact.

You glare at him playfully, the expression making you resemble a sulking child. All wide eyes and stubborn chin which only pulls another laugh from him, genuine this time as it rumbled deep in his chest.

"Yawntu." You declare, crossing your arms over your chest, the motion accentuating the gentle swell of your breasts beneath your woven top which he tries not to look at.

Instead he nods, suppressing a smirk at how easily you've handed it over. "I'm sorry, yawntu. I was just messing with you."

You scoff, a light huff escaping as you uncross your arms, but the pout eases into a reluctant smile, his words smoothing the wrinkle from your forehead.

He thinks his ploy worked seamlessly, you buy it without question and the trust in your eyes a quiet weight he hadn't anticipated. Shifting gears, he scans your face as concern flickered briefly when his gaze drifts to the bandaged gash on your temple, the skin around it still faintly bruised.

"Are you hungry? Does your head still hurt?"

You nod, one hand drifting to clutch your stomach, the faint growl audible in the quiet marui. "I am hungry but my head only hurts slightly now. A dull ache, nothing like before."

He rises fluidly as he extended his hand palm up, visible calluses are seen, rough from years of handling weapons.

"Let's get breakfast then." His voice carries a casual warmth, masking the internal tally of how long this charade might last.

Your face lights up, a beam spreading across your features as you slip your hand into his, fingers interlacing with a natural ease that sends a subtle warmth up his arm. The contact lingers as you both stand and he moves to withdraw once you're steady on your feet but your grip tightens, holding firm as your thumb brushed absently over his knuckles.

He pauses then lets it be, the unexpected cling stirring a faint curiosity in him as you step out into the bustling morning of Awa'atlu.

The village hums with life, weavers calling to each other over glowing braids of kelp, children darting between maruis with laughter trailing like bubbles. Heads turn as you walk hand-in-hand toward the communal eating area, the sandy paths crunching softly underfoot.

Ao'nung, the clan's notorious charmer, linked with you. The elusive beauty who's turned away every suitor, always shadowed only by Tsireya's side. Whispers ripple through the air like wind over water. He's never paraded his flings like this. With them, it's waists gripped possessively or arms draped around his, only fleeting and bold.

But you?

Your hand in his feels different, your steps syncing with his in a rhythm that draws more eyes than he'd like.

You shrug off the stares with a soft inward smile, assuming it's lingering surprise at your mating bond, the clan still adjusting to the idea of you and Ao'nung as one.

He knows better.

Their gazes carry judgment, speculation, the sting of his altered habits hitting close. Yet he doesn't pull away, his fingers flexing slightly around yours, the warmth of your palm a steady anchor against the growing murmur.

Your eyes sparkle as you spot the sacred table ahead, elevated on a woven platform overlooking the reef, where Tsireya sits with Ronal and Tonowari. Fresh fruits and smoked fish steam in shallow bowls, the air rich with the aroma of roasted roots. Without hesitation, you tug Ao'nung forward, your pull gentle but determined, leading him like it's the most natural path in the world.

Ronal's sharp eyes soften at the sight, a pleased curve touching her lips as she watches you draw her son along. It warms her to see him yielding, even if temporarily. It was adorable really, the way your fingers stay laced with his, your body leaning slightly into his side as if seeking his strength.

Perhaps Eywa's guidance after all.

She muses stirring her tea with a subtle nod of approval.

Tsireya looks up, her smile bright and genuine as she waves you over. She says nothing about the hand-holding, though her gaze flicks to it with a mix of relief and caution, keeping the fragile peace.

"Come sit, (Y/N)! We've saved spots for you both." Her voice bubbles with forced normalcy, hiding the protective undercurrent as she pats the mat beside her.

The table draws every eye in the eating area. Clansfolk pausing with utensils halfway to mouths, conversations dipping into hushed tones. Especially the women, clustered in groups, their whispers sharp and envious.

You remain oblivious, focused on the spread, but Ao'nung feels the heat of their stares like prickling sunlight on his skin, a reminder of the attention he's traded for this pretense. Still, he doesn't release your hand until you're seated, the circle complete around the sacred space. In fact, as the meal begins, he reaches for the platters with his free hand, selecting pieces you favor. The tender strips of fish grilled with sea herbs, the juicy segments of reef fruit that you've shared with Tsireya on countless mornings he's observed from afar.

He piles them onto your plate, the motion deliberate, his arm brushing yours in the close quarters.

"Here, eat what you like." He says, voice low and almost gruff, masking the odd satisfaction in providing for you.

You glance up, a shy smile blooming as color touches your cheeks, your free hand covering his briefly in thanks before you finally let go to pick up a piece of fruit.

"Thank you, 'Nungie." You whisper, the nickname slipping out again, soft and intimate amid his family's chatter.

The sudden absence of your touch leaves his hand feeling oddly cool, fingers curling absently as if chasing the warmth. He shakes it off, turning to his own plate, spearing a chunk of meat with more force than needed.

The women's heated glares bore into him from across the way, longing and accusation in it but he ignores them. His jaw set, focusing on the flavors bursting on his tongue, the easy flow of conversation around the table pulling him into the moment despite the frustration simmering beneath.

After that, the days blur into a rhythm that's both unfamiliar and oddly comforting with your steps shadowing Ao'nung's through the winding paths of Awa'atlu. You trail him from the training sands where he drills with the younger warriors, your presence a quiet constant at the edge of the circle, to the marui where he repairs nets under the afternoon sun.

He doesn't shoo you away.

In fact, he slows his pace sometimes, glancing back with a nod that invites you closer. Your sweetness wraps around him like the gentle swell of tides. Your small gestures like brushing sand from his shoulder after a spar or offering a woven cord to tie back his hair when the wind tugs at it. Affection flows from you towards him, evident with a hand grazing his arm as you pass a water gourd or leaning into his side during quiet moments by the fire pits. Each time, surprise flickers in his eyes, a brief widening before it softens and he's starting to lean into it, the warmth of you seeping past his guarded edges.

It's a stark shift from the woman the clan knew. You were always so reserved, your laughter only for Tsireya's ears alone, your body language a careful veil of distance around everyone else. Now, you're blooming in his orbit, the very man whispered about as too wild to tether and it stirs something in the onlookers.

For Ao'nung, it's disorienting at first, this clingy devotion from someone who'd barely spared him more than polite nods before. But as the sun arcs higher each day, he finds himself anticipating your approach, the way your fingers seek his in passing crowds.

Nights have transformed too.

The first evenings after your accident, you'd curled against him on the sleeping mat, your limbs seeking his heat while he lay stiff, allowing the contact but withholding his own. His arms were folded and breath measured to avoid entanglement with you. Now, as twilight deepens the marui's glow, you press close with your cheek nestling into the crook of his neck, legs tangling with his under the hides.

He hesitates only a beat before his arm drapes over your waist pulling you flush, his palm splaying wide across the dip of your lower back. The difference settles over him like a sigh. Your softness molding to his harder lines as breaths synced in the dim light and for those hours, the world narrows to the steady rise and fall of your shared rhythm.

Time weaves you together in stolen pockets. Mornings breaking fast with shared glances across the communal mats, afternoons where you sit nearby as he carves bone tools, and evenings mending gear side by side. He's growing fond and undeniably, your quiet care chipping at the walls he's built, making the days feel less like a duty and more like... something real.

Yet beneath it, a pull tugs at him with the memories of his old freedoms. The rush of new skin under his hands, the electric chase of fleeting nights with women who knew the game as well as he did. He misses that spark, it was the variety that kept his blood humming.

And always, the question lingers in his mind, when will the fog lift from yours? When will those clear eyes remember the truth and shatter this fragile illusion?

Today finds you both at the beach's edge where the reef kisses the shore in frothy whispers. The sun hangs low painting the waves in molten gold and you've knelt in the shallows as water laps at your thighs.

Ao'nung stands a few paces back with his arms crossed over his chest, watching you with a gaze that's grown habitual.

You're gathering shells, fingers sifting through the damp sand, unearthing iridescent treasures that catch the light. A beam lights your face, wide and unguarded, with cheeks flushed from the salt spray and your hair cascading in loose waves down your back, clinging slightly where the mist has touched it.

He looks down at you, the angle framing your features in a way that steals his breath for a moment.

He silently admits you're pretty, the curve of your jaw soft under the dying light, your lips parted in concentration as you examine a find. He's long grown accustomed to seeing you in Tsireya's wake, a shadow of gentle poise. Your interactions with him limited to courteous words and that undercurrent of disappointment in your eyes whenever he'd stride past with another woman draped on his arm. Growing up in the same guidance of his parents, you'd shared spaces but never closeness. Your reserve a barrier he'd never bothered to breach, assuming it matched his own disinterest in anything.

Now though, your amnesia has rewritten the script. You cling to him with a faith that's both bewildering and intoxicating, your body seeking his like it's always belonged there.

Is this what mating truly means?

He ponders it as the waves curl at his feet, the warmth of your proximity a steady hum against the chaos of his past.

It's not the wild pulse of conquests, the quickened hearts and whispered promises that dissolved by dawn. This is quieter, a constant tide that’s reliable and enveloping, pulling him under without the crash. Before the accident, he'd been certain that his life of freedom was the only one worth living, no chains of commitment to dull the edge. But standing here, watching the joy radiate from you, doubt creeps in.

Which existence holds more? The fleeting highs or this deepening anchor?

You glance up suddenly, eyes sparkling like the foam around you. You were holding aloft of a shell in your palm, a flawless teal curve that’s veined with subtle pearlescence.

"Look, 'Nungie." You say, voice bright with delight, the nickname tumbling out with that endearing lilt, your smile stretching wide enough to crinkle the corners of your eyes. "It's the color of your eyes."

Adorable. Eywa, you're utterly adorable beaming up at him from the sand, water droplets tracing paths down your neck, soaking into the edges of your top where it clings to the swell of your breasts.

He crouches slightly to meet your gaze, a half-smile tugging at his lips despite the internal whirl.

"It is very pretty, yawntu." He murmurs, voice low and warm, the endearment slipping out smoother now and laced with a teasing affection that masks the way his pulse quickens.

Your smile widens, satisfaction glowing in your expression as you tuck the shell into the woven pouch at your hip, the motion swaying your hips subtly. Rising from the shallows, sand sluicing off your legs in rivulets, you close the distance in two fluid steps, the wet fabric of your loincloth darkening against your skin. Without warning you lean in, pressing a smooch to his lips, tasting of salt and the faint sweetness of the fruit from breakfast.

He freezes, body locking as your supple mouth softly molds to his, the unexpected press sending a shock of heat straight through him.

But resistance crumbles fast as instinct takes over, he kisses back with one hand rising to cup the nape of your neck, fingers threading into your damp strands. He deepens it, tilting his head to claim more, tongue brushing yours in a slow exploratory glide that draws a soft hum from your throat. His other arm snakes around your waist, hauling your frame against his, the contrast of your curves to his solid build igniting a low burn in his gut. Your body so pliant, pressing into him with innocent eagerness.

You smell incredible too, a heady mix of ocean brine and the faint floral trace of your skin, clean and inviting. And your form... it's a torment, all softness where he is taut, your breasts flattening against his chest, hips slotting perfectly into the V of his thighs. It was fucking delicious the way your waist nips in before flaring to those wide hips, the subtle give of your flesh under his grip, promising depths he hasn't explored but now craves with a sharpening edge.

You pull back first, a shy smile curving your lips against his, breath mingling in the scant space between you as your cheeks bloomed with a deeper flush.

He looks so handsome like this, up close. Tattoos curling over his shoulders like living vines, framing the sharp lines of his jaw, his full mouth still parted from the kiss. Those piercing eyes, half-lidded now with a hunger that's new and unchecked, drop inevitably, tracing the path down your body.

It lingered on the way your top strains over the full mounds of your tits, nipples pebbling faintly against the damp weave then lower to the shadowed cleft where your loincloth hugs the mound of your pussy, the fabric clinging just enough to hint at the warmth beneath.

The gaze sends a shiver through you but you hold his stare, the air thickening with unspoken want, the waves' murmur the only sound as tension coils between you like a gathering storm. The pull of your lips lingers like a brand but Ao'nung draws back anyway, his breath ragged against your skin. Every fiber in him screams to dive deeper, to chase the heat blooming between you, but he reins it in sharply.

In your mind, this is the bond of mates, sacred and sure, but he carries the weight of reality. The accident's cruel twist, the amnesia that paints him as your everything when he's just the brother of your closest friend. He's bedded plenty, chased pleasure without strings but you... you're untouched, a purity he won't tarnish, not like this. Not when it's all built on fog and forgotten truths.

His thumb brushes your jaw once, a fleeting anchor before he straightens, voice roughened at the edges. "Come on, let's go back."

You nod as the afterglow softened your features and slip your hand into his, fingers lacing with a giddy squeeze that tugs at something deep in his chest.

The path back through the village feels charged, the air thick with the scent of salt and blooming night flowers as maruis glow softly in the dusk. Eyes follow you from the women of the clan, their gazes sharp and lingering on the man at your side, the one they've known as untamed, always slipping away before dawn. A sour twist knots in your gut, unfamiliar jealousy flaring as you catch their stares, possessive in a way that surprises even you.

One in particular stands out, leaning against a woven wall with arms crossed, her form silhouetted by the firelight inside.

Saraye.

Her name surfaces from the haze of your altered memories, a woman you'd glimpsed more than once in Ao'nung's company before everything shifted, her laughter echoing from his marui on restless nights. Her eyes narrow now tracing the joined hands, her lips pressing into a thin line of what might be envy or resentment. But Ao'nung doesn't spare her a glance; his focus stays forward, thumb absently stroking the back of your hand as he leads you onward, the simple act easing the bitterness in your throat into a faint relieved smile.

Inside his marui, the space feels more like home with each passing evening. The low ceiling draped in nets, the faint tang of sea air mingling with the herbs Ronal left for your healing. He settles you on the mat with a gentleness that belies his warrior's build, broad shoulders flexing as he portions out dinner of fresh fish grilled over a small flame, its flaky flesh steaming beside woven baskets of fruit. You eat side by side, his knee brushing yours, the quiet broken only by the distant crash of waves.

When the meal ends, you shift closer, drawn by the solid warmth of him, sprawling across his chest like it's the most natural place in the world. His arms encircle you without hesitation now, one hand resting at the small of your back, the other tracing idle patterns along your arm in skin to skin motion, the contact a steady pulse that lulls you.

Sleep heavily pulls at you contentedly but not before you nuzzle into the curve of his neck, lips brushing a soft drowsy kiss there, right over the ridge of his pulse. The spot tastes of salt and him, warm under your mouth, and you feel the vibration of a stifled groan rumble through his throat, his grip tightening fractionally on your hip. It's enough to send a lazy spark through you but exhaustion wins as your eyes flutter shut, breaths evening out and you drift off with your body lax atop his.

He lies awake longer staring at the woven ceiling, the echo of that kiss replaying in his mind. The unintended tease of your lips on his skin. Eventually, sleep claims him too, his hold on you loosening into something protective and instinctive.

Hours later, the morning light filters through the marui's entrance, a soft glow that stirs you from the depths of rest.

Ao'nung's movements rouse you full with the shift of his weight and the quiet rustle as he rises. His form looms in the half-light, tattoos stark against his blue skin, muscles coiling under the early chill as he straps on his gear.

"I have to leave early." He says, voice low and gravelly from sleep, patting your head with a large palm that lingers a beat too long as his fingers combed through your tousled hair. "Hunting party."

You nod rubbing sleep from your eyes, the mat cool where his warmth had been. He's turning away when your hand shoots out, catching his wrist in a loose but insistent grip.

"Kiss before you leave, 'Nungie." You murmur, voice thick with lingering drowsiness, lips forming a sleepy pout that tugs at the corners of your mouth. "It's our thing, remember?"

His heart stutters a heavy thud against his ribs. This simple request, so earnest and routine in your fractured world, hits like a spear's tip.

He imagines it then, the life of true mates, your lips meeting his each dawn before the hunt. A warm body waiting in the marui upon his return, steady and waiting. No more empty nights, no chasing shadows. But no, he shoves the thought down, clinging to the wilder memories, the freedom that still calls like an old habit.

This can't be it, not when it's all illusion.

Still, he leans in cupping your face with one hand, his mouth pressing to yours in a firm lingering kiss. Soft at first then deepening just enough to taste the sweetness of your breath, tongues brushing in a slow slide that leaves heat pooling low in his gut. He pulls back before it can ignite further, eyes dark with restraint.

"Go hang out with my sister to kill time." He says, voice steady despite the internal storm. "I'm sure she misses you."

You nod again, a sleepy smile curving your lips as you watch him slip out, the flap of the entrance falling shut behind his retreating form. The marui feels emptier without him but you burrow back into the hides, sleep reclaiming you for a few more hours, your dreams laced with the phantom press of his mouth.

When you wake properly, the sun climbs higher, warming the air. The pouch of shells from yesterday sits nearby, a colorful bundle that draws your eye.

You've missed Tsireya fiercely, your days swallowed by Ao'nung's orbit and the thought of her pulls you to your feet. Dressed in your simple coverings, the fabric light against your skin, you make your way to her family's marui, the village humming with midday activity of children splashing in shallows and weavers calling out rhythms.

You spot her on the deck outside, perched on a low stool with a basket of healing herbs in her lap, her frame relaxed as she sorts leaves, curls swaying gently in the breeze.

"Reya!" You call, voice lifting with genuine joy as a beam broke across your face when you approach.

She looks up, her expression brightening into a wide smile, waving you over with an enthusiastic sweep of her arm.

"Come, sit." She says patting the space beside her, eyes crinkling at the corners with warmth.

You settle close, the wood creaking under you, and the words tumble out. How you've missed her laughter, her stories, the ease of your shared silences now overshadowed by the pull toward her brother.

She pouts playfully, sticking out her lower lip in mock offense though her eyes sparkle.

"My brother's stealing you away." She teases nudging your shoulder with hers, the contact light and familiar. "I barely see you anymore."

You giggle, the sound bubbling up light and free, covering your mouth with one hand.

"Well, he's my mate now so my time has been consumed." You reply, the words matter-of-fact in your altered certainty, laced with a shy affection that colors your cheeks.

A flicker crosses her face, it was hesitance, brief but there like a shadow over clear water. She wonders in that split second if your memories will return before Ao'nung's old ways resurface, before he crosses a line that could shatter you both. But she masks it quickly, nodding with a soft hum.

"I know." She says, voice gentle, steering the conversation onward.

You smile shyly pulling out your weaving tools and the shells from your pouch, fingers deftly beginning to thread them into an armband. It was of teal and pearlescent strands twisting around a base of supple vine, each piece chosen for its luster.

"I can't believe I'm mated to him, Reya." You confess, eyes focused on the work but voice dreamy, a soft wonder threading through it. "It feels like yesterday when we were talking about how he'd never be tied down."

Tsireya's smile stiffens at the edges, the irony twisting in her chest. It is only several days ago, those same conversations where you'd wrinkled your nose at his reputation but you can't recall. She forces a light laugh, reaching over to tuck a loose strand of your hair behind your ear.

"I know." She echoes, tone careful. "My brother has been so soft with you. It's... different. Good different."

Your face lights up at that, a bright flush warming your skin as you glance at her, pride and happiness mingling in your gaze.

She gestures to the armband taking shape in your lap, the shells catching the light like captured stars.

"For my brother?" She asks, curiosity tilting her head.

You nod shyly biting your lower lip as your fingers pause, the vine curling under your touch.

"I haven't given him anything yet." You admit, voice dropping to a murmur as a touch of embarrassment heated your ears. "It feels right though. Something to show... him."

She giggles then, the sound genuine and light, easing the tension in her shoulders.

"He'll love it." She assures, watching your progress with an approving nod but her mind races ahead, and she adds almost casually. "I'm also surprised he hasn't made his advances."

The words catch you off guard, a subtle warmth stirring low in your belly at the implication. Tsireya's eyes widen slightly at her own boldness but she recovers with a quick smile.

"He's respecting your purity and innocence." She explains softly, choosing her words like steps on uneven ground. "You have no experience, remember? Maybe he doesn't want to pressure you."

You bite your lip harder, the plump flesh whitening under your teeth, a flicker of uncertainty mixing with desire. Ao'nung's restraint has been a quiet frustration. The way he responds to your touches but never pushes, always drawing the line just beyond your reach.

"Maybe I should give a hint?" You muse, voice tentative as you glanced at her for guidance. "It's okay because we're mated. Sex must be for my mate only."

Nervousness tightens her features, a subtle crease at her forehead. She knows your true stance, the disgust you'd voiced for casual unions, the reverence you hold for bonding. And worse, you're not truly mated, a truth she can't voice yet without unraveling everything. She swallows reaching for your hand, squeezing it reassuringly.

"I think you should wait first until you're really ready." She says gently, her tone laced with concern masked as sisterly wisdom. "I know how much you cherish yourself. Don't rush what feels sacred."

She's right, the words settling like a cool wave over your heated thoughts. Ao'nung has been nothing but patient, mirroring your pace, his responses a mirror to your affections without overstepping.

But still, what if you try?

"I guess so." You agree, a small sigh escaping as you resume weaving, the shells clicking softly.

By the time the armband is finished, the sun dips toward the horizon, the piece a delicate band of color and texture, perfect for wrapping around his strong forearm. You hold it up admiring the way it shimmers, a shy anticipation building within you.

Tonight when he returns from the hunt, you'll give it to him as a token, a step closer in this life you believe is yours.

The sun hangs low over the reef, painting the waves in strokes of molten gold as you stand at the shore's edge, the damp sand cool between your toes.

You've taken care with your appearance today, the beaded necklace top clinging just enough to accentuate the gentle swell of your breasts, each strand of shells and pearls shifting with your breaths, drawing subtle outlines against your skin. The loincloth hugs your hips tighter than usual, the woven fabric tracing the curve of your thighs leaving your legs bare to the breeze that carries the tang of salt and distant kelp.

Inside Ao'nung's marui, tucked safely away, waits the armband you've crafted with a quiet promise and woven with intention.

Your gaze scans the horizon, heart quickening with each passing moment until the silhouettes emerge from the sea. The hunting party with their ilus gliding through the shallows, riders dismounting with spears in hand and hauls of fresh catch slung over shoulders. Your eyes lock immediately on him, Ao'nung, his broad frame cutting through the water like a shadow given form.

He's already watching you, those intense eyes narrowing with a heat that sends a rush of warmth flooding your cheeks, turning your skin a deeper shade of turquoise.

You smile widely up at him, the giddiness bubbling over as your stare roams his body.

The intricate tattoos swirling across his teal chest and arms, inked lines that speak of battles won and rites passed, his muscles still taut from the hunt, glistening with seawater that traces rivulets down his abdomen.bIt dips lower, your gaze trailing to the low-slung loincloth that barely conceals the powerful lines of his hips and your thoughts scatter as heat pooled low in your belly.

You haven't crossed that final threshold yet, the bond in your mind sealed only by the memory of tsaheylu, a spiritual tie without the physical claim. But tonight, after you present the armband, perhaps you can offer more. Your first time given freely to the mate you know him to be. The idea makes you bite your lower lip in a sharp tug of anticipation as he strides toward you, the other hunters trailing behind with knowing glances.

Without a word, you step into his space, arms wrapping around his waist in a tight hug, your cheek pressing to the damp warmth of his chest as you inhaled the mingled scents of ocean and exertion.

"I've missed you, 'Nungie." You murmur against him, voice soft but laced with that earnest longing that's become your rhythm.

He chuckles low, the sound vibrating through you, a rumble that eases the ache of the day's separation, even as the men around you exchange teasing smirks and elbow nudges, their laughter muffled but present.

Ao'nung's arm curls around your shoulders, pulling you closer for a beat before he guides you away, your hand finding his naturally, fingers intertwining as you walk the path to his marui. You feel his stare on you the whole way, heavy and appraising as it lingered on the way your top sways with each step, the tighter cloth molding to your form and highlighting the sway of your hips.

Inside, the space is dimmer now, lit by the fading light filtering through the entrance, the air still carrying the faint spice from earlier meals.

You've prepared ahead, knowing the toll of a hunt. A spread of roasted stingray, its flesh tender and spiced with reef herbs, alongside sliced fruits and a bowl of fermented root drink.

His eyes widen slightly as he takes it in, surprise flickering across his features before softening into something appreciative, a nod of thanks as he sinks onto the mat beside you.

You eat together, the flavors bursting on your tongue and you fill the quiet with tales of your day. Tsireya's laughter over shared shells, the way she braided a new strand into your hair, her gentle probes about your budding life with him.

He listens intently, fork paused midway to his mouth, his gaze steady on your face, absorbing every detail with a quiet intensity that makes your pulse skip.

But you're bolder tonight, touchier, your knee pressing against his thigh under the pretense of closeness, fingers brushing his arm as you gesture. Each contact deliberate, a slow seduction woven into the mundane. When the meal ends, he clears the remnants with efficient movements, stacking the mats and rinsing the bowls in a nearby basin, his back to you for a moment, his tattoos flexing with the pull of his shoulders.

You wait heart thumping until he turns back and then you rise, holding out the armband with shy fingers, the shells catching the low light in a shimmer of teal and white.

"For you." You say softly, eyes lifting to meet his as a flush creeped up your neck.

Surprise etches his face, deepening the lines around his eyes but he takes it gently, turning the piece over in his large hands, admiring the careful weave and the way the colors echo his own markings.

"It's... beautiful." He muttered, voice rough with unexpected emotion as he slipped it onto his forearm where it fits snugly, hugging the curve of muscle and inked skin like it was made for him.

A symbol of him taken, bound to you in the eyes of the clan.

You beam at him as joy lightened your face and before he can settle, you move straddling his lap with a fluid grace, the heat of his body seeping through the thin barriers of cloth.

A surprised grunt escapes him, his tattooed hands instinctively settling on your hips, fingers splaying wide to steady you, the grip firm against the softer give of your flesh.

Leaning in, you capture his mouth with yours, tentative at first. Your tongue parting his lips clumsily, exploring without the map of experience, driven only by instinct and the rightness of it all. He responds in kind but deeper and hungrier, his kiss consuming you like a tide pulling under, tongue stroking yours in slow deliberate sweeps that draw a whimper from your throat. Emboldened, you guide one of his hands upward, pressing his palm over the soft mound of your breast, the beaded top yielding under the pressure.

He squeezes unable to resist, the flesh molding to his touch and you moan into the kiss, the sensation sharp and electric, unlike anything you've known. His fingers delve further, slipping beneath the strands to find your nipple, rolling it between thumb and forefinger with a teasing pinch that sends sparks racing down your spine. You mewl against his lips, the sound muffled but needy, the foreign pleasure coiling tight in your core.

Good, so achingly good as his mouth claims yours again deeper.

Your hips move on their own, grinding forward in a slow roll against the growing hardness beneath you, the massive bulge straining his loincloth. He bucks up to meet you, a low growl vibrating in his chest, the friction building a slick ache between your thighs.

"'Nungie." You mewl breaking the kiss just enough to breathe his name, your usually soft voice husky with want.

He freezes beneath you, body going rigid, and then his hands clamp on your hips, stilling your movements with unyielding strength. He pulls back from the kiss, breath coming in harsh pants, eyes dark and conflicted as they search yours.

"We should stop, yawntu." He says with a strained voice like it's costing him everything to form the words.

You frown in confusion, chest heaving as the heat lingers unanswered.

"But we're mates." You protest softly, a plea edging your tone as your hips shifted again in a desperate grind seeking that lost rhythm. "I want to be close... like this. That’s what mates do, right?"

A deep and tortured groan rips from him, his forehead dropping to rest against your shoulder, his hot breath fanning your skin as his body trembles under the restraint.

The confusion swirls in you, thick and stinging.

Is he not drawn to you this way? Your lack of skill, the women he's known who move with practiced ease, their bodies honed for pleasure, do they eclipse you? Does he find your untouched form lacking, unworthy of the warrior he is?

You bite your lip hard, the doubt twisting like a knife as he lifts you off him with careful hands, setting you aside on the mat as if you're fragile glass. Your heart aches at the distance, the blatant pullback leaving a raw sting in its wake, the rejection blooming cold in your chest.

"We should sleep." He mutters, voice flat now, heavy with fatigue he didn't show moments ago. "I'm tired from the hunt."

"Oh." You whisper, the single word hollow, echoing the sudden emptiness as you watch him stretch out on the sleeping hides with his back to you, the armband a stark band against his skin.

You follow quietly curling onto your side without reaching for him, the usual urge to nestle close withered under the weight of hurt.

He doesn't turn, doesn't seek your warmth, his breathing evens into sleep's rhythm, his broad shoulders rising and falling leaving you staring at the expanse of his back, the tattoos a blurred pattern in the dimness.

Doubts flood in relentless waves. Your inexperience a barrier, your body not enough to hold him, the bond you feel so surely perhaps one-sided in its fire. You bite your lip again tasting the faint metallic tang and curl tighter into yourself, willing sleep to come.

Tomorrow, you hope the morning light will mend this fracture, chase away the shadows clinging to your thoughts so cruelly.

Hours later, the first rays of dawn filter through the woven walls of the marui, casting soft patterns on the sleeping hides where you stir awake, your body heavy with the remnants of uneasy dreams.

You reach out instinctively, fingers seeking the familiar warmth of Ao'nung's side but your hand meets only cool empty space. A frown tugs at your lips as the events of last night crash back. The tentative touches, the heat building between you only for him to pull away, his voice clipped and distant. And now, he's gone before you even open your eyes, slipped out like a shadow before the light could catch him. The sting lingers sharp in your chest but you push it down shaking your head slightly.

No, you won't let doubt fester. He's your mate, bound to you in ways that transcend fleeting moments. There must be a reason, maybe hunting duties or perhaps early chores. You repeat it to yourself like a mantra as you rise, smoothing the hides and stepping out into the morning air, the scent of dew-kissed fronds mingling with the ever-present salt of the sea.

Your steps carry you toward the cluster of maruis where Tsireya's family resides, her presence a beacon you crave, always knowing the right words to untangle the knots in your mind.

The path winds past the communal fires, still smoldering from last night's embers and your gaze drifts idly toward the distant stretch of beach where the waves lap gently at the shore. There, two figures stand close, their forms silhouetted against the rising sun. One broad and commanding, the other slim and poised.

Your breath catches as recognition hits.

Ao'nung, your mate and beside him, Saraye, the woman whose stare had burned into you days ago from across the sands.

She's the one the clan whispered about, the beauty who everyone believed could finally tether Ao'nung's wandering spirit. Unlike the others he'd discarded after a single night, she'd been seen with him more than once—twice, three times, her laughter echoing in his wake, her touch lingering on his arm during feasts.

A cold knot twists low in your stomach as you watch her tilt her head, her long braids swaying with the motion, her skin a smooth canvas of teal that catches the light just so.

She's pretty in a way that commands attention, her body honed by years of knowing exactly how to move, how to draw eyes and hands alike. She knows his body in ways you don't. Maps of pleasure you've only begun to imagine, experiences that make your own innocence feel like a barrier rather than a gift.

The rejection from last night floods back sharper now, your advances met with his sudden withdrawal, his hands lifting you away as if your touch burned. Maybe that's it, he isn't drawn to you like that, not with the fire he must have shared with her. Perhaps he's trapped in this bond with you by circumstance, his heart pulling toward Saraye, the one who fits his old life seamlessly.

You see it in the way he laughs now, an easy sound carrying on the breeze, his head thrown back slightly as she gestures animatedly, their familiarity a knife's edge against your resolve. They stand close, shoulders nearly brushing, her hand hovering on his forearm, the very arm now adorned with the band you wove for him as he converse with another woman.

Your heart fractures under the weight, the pieces scattering like shells on the tide. The cold shoulder of his rejection, waking to an empty cot, and now this, him seeking her company while you ache alone. Hot and unwelcome tears prick at your eyes as you tear your gaze away, hurrying along the path before the sight can carve deeper.

Tsireya's marui comes into view soon enough, its entrance draped with fresh kelp weaves and you call out softly, your voice trembling just at the edges.

She emerges quickly, her face lighting with a warm smile that fades the moment she takes in your expression. The downturned mouth, the shadowed eyes, the way your shoulders hunch inward.

"What's wrong?" She asks stepping close, her hand reaching for yours with that instinctive gentleness. "You look like you've seen a storm. Did you give my brother the armband?"

You nod, whispering the words as if they might shatter if spoken louder. "Yes, I gave it to him."

Her brows knit in confusion, head tilting as she searches your face. "Did he not like it?"

"He liked it." You reply, voice barely above a breath, the confirmation twisting the knot tighter.

"Then why the sadness?" Tsireya presses gently, guiding you to sit on a nearby log, her body angling toward yours protectively, the morning light gilding the fine tattoos on her face from her Ikinimaya.

A sniffle escapes you and you lean into her side, the solid warmth of her shoulder a small anchor as the words tumble out in a rush, it was laced with the raw edge of hurt.

"Last night... I tried to be close to him, Reya. I sat on his lap, kissed him, touched him like mates do, and for a moment it felt right. He was responding but then he just... stopped. Froze and pulled away, said we should sleep because he was tired from the hunt."

Your voice cracks on the last word, fingers twisting in your lap.

"And this morning he was gone before I woke, no note, no warmth left behind. I thought maybe it was nothing but then I saw him on the beach with Saraye. They're laughing so easy together like they share secrets I don't know. She's the one who was with him more than once, the only one who could tame him, everyone said that before. She's experienced, knows how to please him in ways I don't. I offered myself, my first time, and he rejected it. What if he doesn't want me like that? What if he's cheating or worse trapped with me when he wants her, wants his old life of many women instead of this bond? I feel so... unworthy, Reya. Like my body isn't enough, my innocence a curse instead of something to be cherished."

Tears spill now, tracking warm paths down your cheeks and Tsireya pulls you into a full embrace, her arms wrapping tight around your trembling form, one hand stroking your back in slow soothing circles.

"Oh, syulang." She murmurs against your hair, voice thick with empathy, her own eyes glistening as she holds you close. "You're not unworthy, not even close. My brother... he's an idiot sometimes but that doesn't mean your feelings aren't valid. He shouldn't have left you doubting like this. You're beautiful inside and out, any man would be lucky to have you. Ao'nung's just... complicated with his past and all. Give it time, he'll come around. And Saraye? She's just a shadow from before. You're the light he needs right now."

She doesn't spill the truths she guards of the amnesia and the false bond but her words weave comfort without deceit, her tone fierce with protectiveness. Internally, anger simmers in her usually cheery demeanor. She'll corner him later, give him the earful he deserves for hurting you this way despite her warnings. She thought he was changing, softening under your genuine affection, but this? It stings her too. And Eywa, she hopes your memories return soon, to shield you from this pain.

You pull back slightly, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand, managing a watery smile at her.

"Stay with us tonight in our family marui. You need space from him, a night to breathe without the weight. My parents would not mind, you're like another daughter."

Gratitude swells in your chest, warm amidst the ache, and you nod squeezing her hand. "Thank you, Reya. You're more than a friend, you're my sister."

The day unfolds in her company, a deliberate distraction by weaving new nets by the lagoon, her laughter pulling reluctant smiles from you as she splashes water your way. Sharing midday fruits under the shade of a sprawling mangrove, her stories of childhood antics lightening the shadows in your mind. Even a quiet swim, her hand in yours as you glide through the clear shallows, the cool water easing the tension from your limbs.

She doesn't pry further, just fills the hours with easy companionship, her presence a balm that soothes without erasing the hurt.

As night falls, the family marui envelops you in its familiar hush, the sounds of the ocean a lullaby through the walls. You settle onto a spare mat near Tsireya, the hides soft beneath you but sleep evades at first. She told Ronal you were just here for a girly sleepover to avoid letting them know of the troubles with Ao’nung but there was a knowing glint in her eye even if she nodded.

Your thoughts circle back to Ao'nung, of his strong jaw, the way his tattoos shift with his breaths, the brief fire in his kiss before it all crumbled.

Why must he wound you like this, with silences and distances that cut deeper than words?

But you're not one to cling selfishly.

If space is what he craves, if his heart pulls elsewhere, you'll grant it even as it splinters yours further. Tomorrow you'll step back, let him roam without your shadow, the bond in your mind a fragile thread you won't force anymore.

The decision settles heavy in your chest, a quiet resolve mingled with sorrow and finally exhaustion claims you, pulling you into a restless slumber with a heart weighed down by unspoken fears.

Hours later, the sun climbs higher the next morning, its light spilling across the village paths like spilled honey but you linger in the family marui folding a spare wrap with deliberate slowness, your fingers tracing the woven fibers as if they hold answers. Returning to the shared space with Ao'nung feels like stepping into a trap, the air there thick with unspoken regrets so you avoid it entirely.

"Come gather with us, it’s our schedule." Tsireya says linking her arm through yours, her touch light but reassuring, the faint scent of sea blooms clinging to her skin from an early rinse.

You nod, grateful for the distraction though a quiet hope flickers that Ao'nung won't be leading the group, his presence would only sharpen the edges of your hurt.

The shore buzzes with quiet energy as you arrive, ilus shifting restlessly in the shallows, their sleek forms cutting through the lapping waves. Your eyes scan the assembly briefly, heart sinking when you spot him.

Ao'nung stands tall among the gatherers, his broad shoulders squared under the weight of command, the armband you crafted glinting on his bicep like a mocking token. And there, pressed too close to his space is Saraye as if it’s her righful place and maybe it is, since Ao’nung was letting her be there.

You force your gaze away fixing it on the horizon where the sea meets the sky in a hazy line, pretending the space he occupies is empty air. No glance and no acknowledgment, the rejection still burns too fresh, a bruise you won't prod.

Tsireya senses the shift in you immediately, her fingers intertwining with yours in a subtle squeeze, her thumb stroking the back of your hand as she shoots a sharp glare across the group toward her brother. It's a silent warning, her teal eyes narrowing, lips pressing into a thin line that speaks volumes of her frustration.

You feel Ao'nung's stare then, heavy and probing like a current tugging at your edges but you keep your face turned, climbing onto your ilu with steady grace, the creature's warm hide flexing under your thighs as you settle into it.

The group surges into the water, ilus plunging forward in a synchronized rhythm, foam cresting around their flanks as you ride toward the reef. The salt spray mists your skin, cooling the flush of unease rising in your chest and you urge your mount faster hoping the task ends swiftly so you can retreat to the shadows of avoidance, away from prying eyes and tangled bonds. The rocks loom ahead soon enough, jagged outcrops alive with clinging anemones and darting fish, the water deepening to a vibrant turquoise.

You guide your ilu close, fingers dipping into the currents to pluck iridescent shells, the cool flow soothing your palms but then a presence draws near, the subtle displacement of water signaling another rider as your pulse quickens.

Please let it be Tsireya.

Her familiar chatter a shield against the world but instead, a voice slithers through the air, low and laced with a sultry edge that sets your teeth on edge.

"Do you still have that selective amnesia?" Saraye's words hang there, her ilu gliding parallel to yours, her body leaning slightly forward.

Confusion knots your forehead and you turn to her, the question spilling out sharp and bewildered. "What?"

She smiles coyly, her full lips curving as her sharp and assessing eyes lock onto yours. "You hit your head a week ago. Woke up with selective amnesia thinking Ao'nung is your mate."

Her tone is casual and knowing, almost conversational as if discussing the weather or the tide's pull but it lands like a spear to your gut.

Your mind reels, the world tilting as fragments of her words clash against the fragile reality you've built.

"What are you talking about?" You manage, voice thin over the rush of water, your grip tightening on the ilu's reins until your knuckles pale.

Saraye shrugs lightly, her shoulders rolling with effortless poise, guiding her mount closer for a moment before easing back.

"Ao'nung told me. I was wondering why he's spending so much time with you so suddenly. He mentioned it yesterday, how he's being forced by their mother to be there for you because of your selective amnesia."

She delivers it without malice, just fact, her gaze flicking toward the group ahead where Ao'nung leads, his form cutting through the waves like he owns them.

Your breath hitches, ragged and caught as the currents around you stir growing choppier, the sea mirroring the storm brewing inside.

Forced.

The word echoes, unraveling everything. The kisses, the touches, the armband that now feels like chains.

"I hope you get your memories back." She adds patting your arm with a smile that's almost sympathetic, her fingers cool against your heated skin. "So Ao'nung can go back to his life."

With that, she steers her ilu away, veering smoothly back toward him, her laughter trailing like a taunt as she rejoins his side.

Tears sting your vision blurring the reef into a watercolor haze, hot tracks threatening to spill as the truth crashes over you.

So that's why he rejected you. It was pity, obligation, nothing more. He doesn't like you, not in the way your amnesia-woven dreams painted. You're not mates, it was all an illusion. A cruel trick of the mind, the tsaheylu you'd imagined nothing but vapor of fake memories.

The waves swell rougher now, unforgiving, mirroring your inner turmoil and in a blink disaster strikes again. Your ilu bucks against a sudden surge throwing you forward, your head slamming against the unyielding rock with a crack that echoes in your skull.

"(Y/N), hold on!" Tsireya's voice pierces the chaos, frantic and distant but the world fades to black, pain blooming sharp and consuming before swallowing you whole.

When consciousness returns to you hours later, it's in fragments. A dull throb pulsing at your temples, vision swimming in blurry edges, your mind a whirlpool of lost pieces slotting back into place.

Memories flood out of nowhere, the accident that started it all, the disdain you'd once felt for Ao'nung's careless ways, the rejections of suitors you'd turned away with quiet resolve, Tsireya's unwavering loyalty through orphaned years. And him, not your mate but a reluctant guardian, his kindness a mask for duty.

"(Y/N), you're awake!" Tsireya's voice breaks through laced with relief, her face hovering close, eyes wide and shimmering with unshed tears, her hands gentle on your shoulders.

Your vision clears gradually, sharpening on the familiar confines of Ronal's healing marui. The low ceiling woven with healing herbs that release a faint earthy aroma, the soft glow of bioluminescent pods casting blue shadows.

Ronal stands nearby, her presence steady and authoritative, her arms crossed as she watches you with measured concern. Tsireya is at your side but no Ao'nung. His absence makes a bitter kind of sense now as the illusion shattered, though a faint sting lingers in your chest. You'd grown accustomed to his solid warmth, the way his gaze had softened in those fabricated moments, fond of the role you'd played as his.

You blink the lingering ache away, pushing down the hollow echo of those false affections as Ronal approaches, her steps measured, the beads in her hair clicking softly.

"How are you feeling?" She asks, voice calm but probing, settling on the edge of the mat, her cool hand pressing lightly to your forehead. "You've been unconscious the whole day. It's night now."

Silence stretches for a beat, your thoughts settling like sediment after a storm before the words emerge, steady despite the tremor in your core. "I remember everything now."

They share a look, a fleeting exchange heavy with unspoken relief and apology as Ronal's eyes softened and Tsireya's widening further.

"You do?" Tsireya whispers leaning in, her fingers squeezing yours.

"Yes." You confirm, the truth settling like a weight lifted and replaced by another.

Ronal nods slowly, her grip on your hand firm yet tender, calluses from years of healing rough against your skin.

"We are sorry for lying to you when you didn't remember." She says, her tone laced with genuine regret, eyes holding yours with the weight of her role as Tsahik. "But your recovery was fragile, it was matters of the brain that demanded caution and Eywa guided us to protect what was mending."

You nod, the understanding coming easy, gratitude threading through the sorrow. They had shielded you, woven a temporary truth to cradle your healing mind. Yet the ache persists, a quiet throb for the emotions you'd nurtured in that haze. The pull toward Ao'nung, the vulnerability you'd offered freely now exposed as fleeting shadows.

"It's okay, Tsahik." You reply softly, managing a small weary smile. "I understand."

Tsireya shuffles closer then, her body curling protectively around you in a hug, her cheek pressing to your shoulder, warm and trembling slightly with her own relief. You meet her gaze as she pulls back, the bond between you unbreakable, forged in shared secrets and losses.

"Can you get my things from Ao'nung's marui?" You ask, voice even, though the request carries the finality of severance. "I'll move back to my own now that I remember the truth."

She bites her lip as a flicker of hesitation crossed her features, guilt perhaps for the part she played before nodding softly, her hand lingering on yours. "Of course. I'll bring them right away."

Ronal rises, her expression resolute as she places a hand on your shoulder.

"Come see me every day so I can check on your wound." She instructs, the command softened by care.

Leaning down, she presses a kiss to your forehead, her lips dry and warm, a blessing in the gesture. She watches as you and her daughter rise unsteadily supporting each other toward the entrance, the night air cool and starlit beyond the flaps.

"I hope Eywa grants you healing, child." Ronal calls after you, her voice a quiet anchor in the darkness.

Tsireya's arm wraps around your waist as she guides you through the village paths, her grip firm yet tender, the warmth of her body seeping through the thin fabric of your wrap against your side. The night air carries the distant hum of waves crashing against the reef, mingling with the soft rustle of leaves overhead but neither of you speaks, the silence heavy with the weight of the day's unraveling.

Her steps are measured syncing with yours though you can feel the tension coiled in her frame, the subtle clench of her jaw, the way her free hand fists at her side. Guilt gnaws at her, evident in the downward tilt of her gaze, shadowed by the bioluminescent glow of nearby maruis and beneath it simmers a fury directed at her brother, her breaths coming a touch sharper than usual.

You both slip into your marui, the familiar space feeling both sanctuary and echo chamber, the woven walls curving protectively around the simple cot piled with soft hides. Dust motes dance in the faint light filtering through the entrance flap and the scent of dried sea grass lingers, a reminder of quieter days before the illusions took hold.

Tsireya leads you to the cot, her hand lingering on your elbow as you lower yourself onto the edge, the hides yielding under your weight with a faint creak, your body heavy with exhaustion, muscles aching from the twin blows of injury and revelation.

"I'll sleep with you for the night." She murmurs, her voice soft but resolute, eyes meeting yours with a depth of protectiveness that eases the knot in your chest just a fraction.

You nod, gratitude swelling warm and wordless. The thought of solitude tonight, a vast echoing void, too much to bear. Your limbs feel leaden, the throb in your head a dull pulse syncing with the hurt radiating from your core, memories now sharp and unrelenting crashing against the fragile peace you'd clung to.

"Thank you, Reya." You whisper, your voice cracking faintly at the edges.

She nods settling beside you, her form curling close as she draws you into a sisterly embrace, arms encircling your shoulders, her cheek pressing against your temple. The steady rise and fall of her chest against yours grounds you, her skin smooth and sun-kissed carrying the faint salt tang of the sea.

You grow quiet in her hold, the silence stretching until words bubble up unbidden, raw and vulnerable.

"I grew feelings for him, Tsireya." You confess, the admission hanging in the dim air, your fingers twisting into the edge of a hide. "Even if it was built on a lie at first."

"Oh, (Y/N)." She breathes, her voice thick with empathy, pulling back just enough to cup your face in her palms, thumbs brushing away the dampness gathering at the corners of your eyes.

Her touch is gentle yet it conveys the depth of her sorrow for your pain.

"It's okay." You continue, forcing a steadiness into your tone even as your throat tightens, the illusion's warmth now a cold void. "I know he doesn't see me that way. I've robbed him of his freedom, his life, because of the amnesia I had."

The words taste bitter, self-recrimination lacing each one, your hips shifting uncomfortably on the cot as you draw your knees up, the curve of your form folding inward protectively.

She holds you closer, her embrace tightening, body heat enveloping you like a shield, though you sense her own turmoil. The way her breath hitches, her mind racing. She'd harbored quiet hopes that this twisted path might weave you and Ao'nung together.

You, with your steadfast rejections of every suitor, waiting for Eywa's true sign. Him, the restless future Olo'eyktan, chained by his wandering appetites, unable to root himself. But now, the threads snap, her optimism crumbling like dry kelp, leaving only frustration and a fierce protectiveness for you.

"Before I hit my head." You add, voice dropping lower, the memory fresh and stinging like salt in a wound. "Saraye talked to me. She said Ao'nung told her he's just being forced to pretend, that she hopes I get my memory back so he can be free."

Your words tumble out, laced with the disorientation of that moment, the sea's roar drowning your thoughts.

"My vision blurred and I was so overwhelmed I didn't register the waves until it was too late. Until I hit my head. I guess in a way, they both were the reason for me getting my memory back."

A hollow laugh escapes you, empty and brittle, echoing off the marui walls, your supple chest rising and falling unevenly with the force of it.

Tsireya's fury ignites anew at the revelation, her body stiffening against yours, eyes flashing with outrage. Saraye's careless barbs rendering you vulnerable, a catalyst for yet another injury, her brother's indiscretions the spark. She bites back a retort, jaw working silently choosing instead to hold you tighter, her fingers threading through your hair in soothing strokes until exhaustion claims you both, sleep pulling you under in tangled limbs, the night's quiet broken only by the distant call of nocturnal creatures.

The next morning, sunlight filters through the cracks in the marui weave, painting golden streaks across the floor and Tsireya stirs first, her movements careful not to disturb you.

She shakes your shoulder softly, her touch light as a breeze, voice a gentle murmur. "I'll leave now to get your things."

You nod sleepily, eyes heavy-lidded, the remnants of dreams of fleeting images of shared warmth now soured clinging like mist.

She rises fluidly, her form silhouetted against the entrance, curls swaying as she pauses to press a quick sisterly kiss to your forehead before slipping out, the flap falling closed with a soft whisper.

It's time I talk to my brother.

She thinks, resolve hardening her steps as she weaves through the village toward Ao'nung's marui, the morning bustle a blur around her. Fury simmers in her veins, a protective fire for you, mingled with the sting of dashed hopes. She pushes aside the entrance flap without ceremony, finding him seated on the low bench, his broad frame hunched slightly, tattooed arms resting on his knees, gaze fixed blankly on the woven floor.

The space feels emptier already, the absence of your presence a subtle shift in the air, his handsome features etched with something unreadable, regret perhaps or the weight of solitude returning.

"I'm getting (Y/N)'s things." She announces with a clipped voice, teal eyes locking onto his with unyielding accusation as she moves to the corner where your sparse belongings wait.

Ao'nung looks up slowly, his jaw tightening, the muscles in his neck cording briefly under the teal sheen of his skin.

"Why?" He asks calmly though his tone carries an undercurrent of defensiveness, rising to his full height, the armband you'd woven still circling his bicep, its beads catching the light like reluctant stars.

"She remembers everything now, Ao'nung." Tsireya retorts, her hands swift as she gathers your wraps and trinkets, folding them with precise angry motions, the fabric rustling sharply. "You can be free to do whatever you want now. Be with Saraye and all those women."

The words bite, laced with sarcasm, her glare piercing as she straightens, bundle clutched to her chest.

He scoffs, a low, rough sound rumbling from his throat, stepping closer to watch her dismantle the traces of you from his space, his eyes narrowing. "What do you mean Saraye?"

"(Y/N) saw you the other day all close with her." Tsireya shoots back, her voice rising with frustration, cheeks flushing with the heat of her anger.

"And?" He presses arms crossing over his chest, the play of muscles under his skin a testament to his warrior build, though his stance holds a flicker of unease.

Tsireya glares undeterred, her body tensing as she continues packing, fingers trembling slightly with restrained fury.

"I know we've forced you to play a part but you didn't have to hurt her like this. She came to me that day almost in tears, telling me how you rejected her the night before, how she woke up the next morning to you gone, only to find you with another woman. A woman you've been so intimate with countless times." Her words hang heavy, charged with the pain she'd witnessed in your eyes, the vulnerability you'd bared to her alone.

Ao'nung's jaw clenches visibly, a shadow crossing his sharp features, his breath escaping in a controlled hiss.

"She misunderstood." He mutters, voice low and edged with irritation, though doubt flickers in his gaze, the realization of the chasm he'd widened settling like lead.

Tsireya rolls her eyes, the gesture sharp and dismissive, slinging your gathered items over one shoulder.

"It doesn't matter anyway. You've already hurt her. Also, you're free now, you don't have to play the part anymore." She turns toward the entrance but pauses, voice dropping to a venomous whisper. "Thank Saraye for (Y/N) getting her memory back. If she hadn't told (Y/N) yesterday how you're being forced because of the selective amnesia, (Y/N) would still be believing she's mated to you. In a way, that bitch of yours made (Y/N) hit her head, literally and figuratively."

Ao'nung stiffens at her words, his form going rigid as fury bloomed across his face, eyes darkening and fists balling at his sides as the true catalyst of your accident yesterday slams into him.

Saraye's meddling, his own careless confidence spilling secrets, the rough waves claiming you in your distress, it all converges a storm he hadn't anticipated, his pulse thundering in his ears.

Tsireya pauses at the entrance, your things balanced in her arms, her expression softening just a fraction with sorrow.

"She really did like you, Ao'nung." She says quietly, the words a final arrow. "And I thought you did too."

With that she slips out leaving him in the hollowed quiet of the marui, the space echoing with absence.

The cot where you'd slept undisturbed, the faint imprint of your scent on the air, the way sunlight now slants across empty corners without your form to soften it. His eyes drift to the armband on his bicep, fingers tracing its weave absently, the beads warm from his skin.

He'd grown used to you, to the rhythm of your shy smiles lighting the dim interiors, the press of your body against his in stolen moments, the idea of being yours, of being binded solely to one woman. The freedom you’d handed back feels less like release and more like a void, his chest tightening with the unfamiliar ache of what might have been.

That night, when your body pressed against his in the dim confines of the marui, your hips grinding instinctively in the haze, Ao'nung's resolve had cracked but held just barely.

He pulled away not out of disinterest but a respect for the innocence you held sacred, the purity you guarded like a hidden cove, untouched by the casual waves of fleeting encounters. He knew the bond you believed in wasn't real, woven from the fragile threads of amnesia and he wouldn't be the one to shatter it with his touch, to claim what wasn't truly offered in clarity.

Your wide hips had curved invitingly against him, the soft swell of your breasts brushing his chest through the thin barrier of hides but he turned from it all, forcing his body to face the woven wall, the cool night air doing little to quell the heat pooling low in his gut.

His cock throbbed insistently, hardened to an ache from the friction of your warmth rubbing against it, the slick promise of your untouched folds teasing through the fabric. If he'd pulled you close, wrapped his arms around your supple form and buried his face in the crook of your neck, he wouldn't have stopped.

He imagined it then in the dark.

His mouth descending to feast on your virgin pussy, tongue delving into the sweet uncharted heat, lapping at your folds until you arched and whimpered beneath him. He pictured plunging deep inside your tight hole, the velvet grip yielding to him inch by inch, breeding you with a primal urgency, marking you as his in the most irrevocable way.

The thought clawed at him but he denied it, breaths ragged and controlled until sleep finally claimed him in fitful fragments that night.

In the morning light, filtering soft through the entrance flap, Ao'nung stirred before you, his gaze lingering on your sleeping form. Your face, framed by loose strands of hair, held a serene beauty of full lips parted slightly, lashes casting faint shadows on your cheeks, the gentle rise of your chest a rhythm he'd come to anticipate.

"So beautiful." He murmured, voice a low rumble and thick with unspoken apology, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips, lingering just long enough to taste the warmth of your breath. "I'm sorry, yawntu."

The endearment slipped out heavy with the weight of what he withheld before he rose quietly, his broad shoulders rolling as he slipped out toward the beach, the sand still cool underfoot.

He needed to do something—anything—to bridge the gap he'd enforced so he crouched by the tide pools, fingers sifting through the damp grains for shells that caught the dawn's glow. Iridescent spirals, smooth pebbles veined with color, each one selected with care for the necklace he'd craft as an apology, a token to adorn the column of your throat.

The water lapped gently at the shore when Saraye emerged from the shallows, her form cutting through the waves, water sluicing off her teal skin in rivulets that traced the curves of her hips and the swell of her breasts. She approached with a sway, braids dripping, a knowing smile curving her lips.

"Ao'nung, I haven't seen you in a while." She said, voice lilting with feigned casualness, eyes flicking over his tattooed arms as she drew near.

He shrugged not pausing in his search, the muscles in his back flexing under the morning sun.

"Been busy." He replied evenly, tone neutral, his focus on a cluster of tiny pearlescent shells half-buried in the sand.

Saraye's smile deepened, stepping closer until her shadow fell across his hands, her scent wafting toward him.

"With (Y/N)? I thought you didn't settle down." She teased, a glint of challenge in her gaze, her fingers trailing idly along the edge of her loincloth.

Ao'nung straightened slightly, wiping sand from his palms, seeing no harm in the truth, it wasn't a secret to unravel.

"She has selective amnesia." He explained, voice steady, meeting her eyes without warmth. "She believes we're mates. My parents asked me to take care of her until she recovers her memory."

Her eyes glinted sharper, a flicker of opportunity crossing her features as she tilted her head, lips pursing in mock sympathy. "So you're being forced? I feel sorry that you're stuck with taking care of her when you can spend your time with me."

The words dripped with invitation, her body angling toward him, one hand resting on her hip to accentuate the dip of her waist.

He laughed then, a short bark of sound escaping his chest, genuine amusement bubbling up at her presumption, the sheer audacity of assuming his chains were so easily chafed. It wasn't interest fueling the chuckle but the irony of her misread, the way she painted his days with you as a burden when they'd become something he guarded.

That was the moment you glimpsed him from afar, the sound carrying on the breeze, twisting in your mind into flirtation, a dismissal of the fragile world you'd built.

"She's not a duty to me." Ao'nung said firmly, shaking his head as the laughter faded, his expression hardening with sincerity. "I would have left already if I didn't like taking care of her. No one can force me to do anything I don't want, Saraye."

His words cut clean, leaving no room for her advances and he turned back to the shore dismissing her with the set of his shoulders as he resumed his hunt for more shells, each find a step toward mending what he sensed fraying.

The day stretched on without your return to the marui, the empty space gnawing at him as the sun climbed high then dipped toward the horizon. Worry coiled in his gut, a tight knot that had him pacing the woven floor, his bare feet silent on the hides. He ventured out as dusk painted the sky in bruised purples, scanning the paths until he spotted you near the edge of the village, your laughter ringing soft and clear as you leaned into Tsireya's side, her arm slung companionably around your shoulders.

The sight eased something in him, your face animated, the tension in your posture loosening in her company, and his heart softened, a quiet understanding blooming at how you must have missed her steady presence.

He wouldn't intrude, wouldn't crowd the space you clearly needed. Instead he retreated to the marui, the bundle of shells clutched in his fist.

Night fell but sleep evaded him, his mind replaying the curve of your smile, the way you'd murmur “Nungie” in those unguarded moments, your voice a balm he craved.

He sat by the low table, fingers fumbling with the materials. Rough cord from dried vines, the shells he'd polished smooth against a stone. Weaving wasn't his skill, his hands moved clumsily, the strands twisting unevenly, beads slipping before catching. But he persisted, the necklace taking shape as a simple adornment, its asymmetry a claim mirroring the armband you'd given him.

Yours on his skin, this for your neck, a silent vow to the bond he hadn't dared voice.

Daylight crept in again, the marui warming with the sun's rise and Ao'nung finally set the finished piece aside, its weight light but meaningful in his palm. He headed to the beach for the gathering, his role as leader pulling him to the water's edge where ilus bobbed in the shallows, their sleek forms glistening.

He knew your schedule intertwined with Tsireya's today, gathering kelp and pearls from the outer reefs and he waited, eyes scanning the horizon, the necklace tucked into a pouch at his hip.

Saraye steered her ilu closer, her mount brushing his with deliberate proximity but he paid her no mind, gaze fixed on the approaching figures, jaw set in quiet focus.

You appeared then, mounted gracefully on your ilu, the wind tugging at your braids but your eyes slid past him without pause, the avoidance a sharp twist in his chest, your posture rigid as you guided your creature to join Tsireya's side.

He swallowed the pang, figuring the distance was necessary, that he'd speak to you later in private. Away from the eyes of the clan, no pressure to you in the open where whispers could wound. The group set out, ilus slicing through the waves in formation, the sea's rhythm steady under him as he directed the paths, his commands barked low and efficient.

Silence wrapped around his thoughts until Tsireya's voice shattered it, a shout laced with panic of your name tearing from her throat.

He whipped around, heart slamming against his ribs, the world narrowing to the sight of you slumped forward on your ilu, blood trickling from a gash on your forehead, staining the teal of your skin in stark rivulets. Terror gripped him, cold and visceral, a echo of that first accident replaying in brutal clarity.

He urged his ilu forward in a surge, closing the distance in seconds reaching out to gather you from Tsireya's trembling arms, her face pale, tears streaking her cheeks as she passed you over.

Your body felt limp and fragile against him, the warmth of your form seeping into his chest even as the metallic tang of blood filled his nostrils, soaking into his skin where he cradled your head. It was déjà vu, the rush of waves blurring as he kicked his ilu toward shore, holding you secure, one arm banded around your waist, the other supporting your neck, your blood smearing across his torso in warm streaks.

"Eywa, please." He whispered fiercely to the wind, pulse thundering. "Let her be okay."

The village blurred past as he barreled toward his mother's marui, Tsireya's ilu splashing close behind, her sobs carrying over the surf. He burst through the entrance flap, the space dim and herbal-scented, laying you gently on the healing mat as autopilot took over. His ears ringing, vision tunneling to the pale cast of your features, the shallow rise of your chest.

You looked so vulnerable, lashes fluttering weakly against your cheeks, the curve of your lips slack, blood matting a strand of hair to your temple.

Ronal moved swiftly, her hands steady as she took you from his grasp, assessing the wound with practiced eyes. Tsireya tumbling in behind to explain in halting bursts of the rogue current, the hidden coral outcrop, your focus lost in the moment.

His chest and arms glistened with your blood, sticky and cooling, but his eyes never left you, fixed on the fragility of your form, the way your fingers twitched faintly at your side.

"Go clean yourself up, Ao'nung." Ronal commanded, her voice firm yet laced with concern, glancing at him briefly before turning back to you, her fingers already mixing a poultice.

He nodded numbly, rising on unsteady legs, the weight of hope and fear pressing down as he backed away whispering to himself. "She'll be okay. She has to be."

As the memory fades and Tsireya left, alone in the dim hush of his marui, Ao'nung paced the woven floor. His broad chest heaved with a sigh, muscles taut under his teal skin as he raked a hand through his braids, the beads clinking softly.

What he'd once craved of nights tangled with whoever caught his eye, the thrill of no strings, the freedom to chase the next wave has now twisted into something hollow, a shadow against the vivid pull you exerted on him.

"Fuck." He growled low, the word rough and edged with frustration, fists clenching at his sides as he sank onto the mat, staring at the armband you'd woven for him, its fibers a constant press against his bicep.

Tomorrow he'd corner you, lay bare the truths gnawing at him.

How your innocence had hooked him deeper than any fleeting liaison, how pulling away that night wasn't rejection but a desperate bid to honor the purity you valued even if the bond was born of fogged memory. He'd explain the laugh with Saraye, the shells he'd gathered just for you, the necklace burning a hole in his pouch. But doubt coiled in his gut, sharp as a spear tip.

Would she listen or had the recovered memories sealed me out for good?

Sleep came heavy and reluctant, his body curling into itself, dreams fractured with visions of your curves arching under him, the slick heat he'd denied himself leaving him waking with a insistent throb between his legs.

Dawn broke with a soft glow over the village, the reef's colors bleeding into the sky as Ao'nung slipped from his marui, the clumsily woven necklace clutched in his palm. The shells strung unevenly, a pearl at its center catching the light like a promise. He made his way to your dwelling, the path familiar now, his steps measured but urgent, heart pounding a steady rhythm against his ribs.

You emerged just as he approached, your form silhouetted against the entrance flap, the sway of your wide hips accentuated by the tight weave of your loincloth, the supple swell of your breasts rising with each breath under a beaded top that clung to your skin. Your face, that exquisite blend of soft features and wide guarded eyes, turned away before locking on him, lashes lowering in deliberate avoidance.

"(Y/N)." He called, voice low and laced with a plea stepping closer, the pouch at his hip swaying.

But you didn't pause, shoulders stiffening as you veered toward the communal path, bare feet padding silently over the packed earth, your long hair swaying like kelp in a current.

He thought of Saraye's bold assumptions, how you'd twisted his laughter into betrayal and it fueled him. You believed him reverted to old habits, tangled with her perhaps, chasing skirts while your heart mended elsewhere. The idea ignited a possessive fire in him, his gaze tracing the line of your spine, imagining pinning you against a palm, hands gripping those birthing hips as he ground against your ass, showing you exactly who consumed his thoughts.

He followed at a distance, shadowing your steps like a hunter tracking elusive prey, the thrill of the pursuit sending heat coiling low in his belly.

You headed to the weaving circle where women gathered under shaded fronds, their hands busy with fibers and dyes. dTsireya was there, her frame bent over a half-finished mat but she glanced up as you approached, her eyes flicking past you to Ao'nung lingering at the edge, his tattooed arms crossed and jaw set. You settled beside her, fingers deftly twisting cords but your movements were tense, the curve of your neck exposed as you leaned forward, oblivious or pretending, to his presence.

"Tsireya." You murmured, voice soft with forced lightness, though your cheeks flushed faintly. "Pass me the red fiber? I need to finish this band before the tide turns."

She obliged, shooting him a warning glare over your shoulder but he didn't retreat.

Instead crouching nearby pretending to inspect a nearby basket, his eyes devouring the way your thighs pressed together as you shifted, the faint sheen of sweat tracing a path down your collarbone into the valley between your breasts. Obsession bloomed sharper as images flashed of your legs parting for him, that virgin slit glistening, begging for his tongue to trace its folds, to taste the sweetness he'd only fantasized about while denying himself.

"(Y/N), wait." He said finally, voice rougher now, edged with the strain of restraint as he rose and closed the gap, ignoring Tsireya's sharp intake of breath.

You stiffened hands pausing mid-twist but kept your gaze on the weaving, the fiber snapping taut under your grip.

"I need to talk to you. About everything." His words hung heavy, charged with the undercurrent of desire he barely leashed, his body heat radiating as he knelt beside you, close enough that his knee brushed your outer thigh sending a jolt through him at the contact.

You exhaled sharply, a flicker of hurt crossing your features before you masked it, lips pressing into a thin line.

"There's nothing to say, Ao'nung." You replied coolly, though your voice wavered, betraying the storm beneath your shy reserve. "You've made your choices clear. I thank you for taking care of me but you can now go back to... whatever life you had before me."

The words stung laced with accusation, your wide and shimmering eyes finally meeting his for a heartbeat before darting away, the beauty of your face twisting his gut with regret and want.

He leaned in, breath warm against your ear, the scent of your skin stirring his cock to half-hardness beneath his loincloth. He really doesn’t know what’s wrong with him and why his body is like this with you now.

"It's not what you think." He murmured, low and insistent, fingers itching to trace the shell of your ear, to tilt your chin and claim your mouth until you melted against him. "Saraye means nothing. Let me explain yawntu, please."

The endearment slipped out raw with longing but you pulled back rising abruptly, the sway of your hips hypnotic as you excused yourself to Tsireya with a murmured apology, heading toward the shore path.

He trailed you again, the sun climbing higher, warming the sand underfoot as you reached the water's edge, bending to rinse your hands in the shallows, the waves lapping at your ankles.

Your loincloth rode up slightly, revealing the firm curve of your ass and he bit back a groan, vision blurring with the urge to drop to his knees behind you, hands spreading your cheeks to bury his face there, tongue delving into your untouched heat until you buckled moaning his name. Obsession clawed deeper within him, a thrilling ache that made his pulse race.

He couldn't let you slip away, not when every glance, every avoidance, only heightened the carnal hunger building like a storm.

The beach wasn't empty, a few hunters sparred nearby, their grunts echoing but he ignored them, matching your pace as you wandered along the tideline, picking at driftwood absently.

"(Y/N)." He tried again, voice dropping to a husky timbre, stepping into your path this time, his taller frame blocking the sun, casting a shadow over your form.

Water droplets clung to your skin tracing lazy paths down your arms and he followed one with his eyes, imagining licking it away, his mouth exploring the soft underside of your breast, teeth grazing the peak until it hardened under his assault.

You halted, chest rising faster, the beaded top shifting with the motion, outlining the pert tips beneath.

"Why are you doing this?" You demanded, frustration bleeding into your tone, eyes flashing with a mix of anger and something softer, a vulnerability that made his heart clench. "Following me like I'm some obligation? Just like before when I thought... when I was wrong about us. Leave me be, Ao'nung. Go find Saraye, she seemed to make you laugh."

The bitterness twisted the last words, your hands fisting at your sides as your knuckles paled.

He reached out, fingers grazing your wrist, light and tentative but electric, the contact sending sparks up his arm straight to his groin, where his length strained fully now, tenting the fabric obscenely.

"That laugh wasn't for her." He said fiercely, thumb stroking the pulse point there, feeling it flutter wildly. "She assumed I was trapped with you, like caring for you was a chore. I laughed because it's absurd, being near you is the only thing that feels right anymore. I pulled away that night because I respect you, (Y/N). Your innocence, what you hold sacred. I won't corrupt it with half-truths. I wouldn’t fuck you knowing your mind is under a haze even if I badly fucking want to."

His gaze dropped to your lips, full and parted on a shallow breath, imagining them wrapped around his cock, sliding down inch by inch, your shy eyes watering as you took him deep.

You yanked your hand free but didn't flee, the tension crackling between you like lightning over the reef, your body leaning imperceptibly closer despite yourself.

"Respect?" You echoed voice trembling, a flush creeping up your neck. "Or regret? Now that I remember, you're free again. Back to your ways."

The words were a challenge, laced with the pain of your shattered illusions but your eyes betrayed the lingering pull, the way they traced the hard planes of his chest, the V of his hips.

The thrill intensified, his obsession a living thing now urging him to close the distance, to press you against the nearest rock and rut against your core until you felt his undeniable raw need.

But he held back, voice dropping to a gravelly whisper. "No regrets. Only want. For you, all of you. Let me show you, not with words but... give me a chance."

He lifted the pouch, the necklace glinting as he drew it out, holding it toward you like an offering, the uneven weave a testament to his fumbling devotion.

You stared at it, conflict warring on your feature. The pretty bow of your mouth softening, eyes widening at the shells that mirrored the ones you'd admired together. But then Tsireya's call echoed from afar, pulling you back and you turned away once more, leaving him standing there, arousal throbbing unmet.

The chase far from over, each step you took only drawing him deeper into the intoxicating web of desire and denial.

You walked away from him on the sun-warmed sand, the waves whispering at your heels like secrets you weren't ready to hear, your heart a tangled knot of doubt and lingering ache. The necklace he'd offered glinted in your mind's eye, a fragile thing that tugged at the edges of your resolve but you pushed forward, your hips swaying with each determined steps.

Behind you, Ao'nung stood frozen for a heartbeat, the shell strand clutched in his fist, its edges biting into his palm as resolve hardened in his chest like coral forming over time.

No more holding back.

With your memories restored, the fragile veil of your amnesia was gone and so was the restraint he'd imposed on himself out of some misguided respect for the innocence you'd carried like a sacred flame. He never saw your purity as a barrier to shatter but a canvas to paint with his touch, to draw out moans and shudders until you craved him as fiercely as he burned for you. He'd use every whisper of pleasure and every slide of skin on skin to weave you into his world making the bond real, sealing it with the heat of your bodies joining.

His old ways called to him, that shameless pursuit of ecstasy but this time it was singular, laser-focused on you. On the curve of your spine, the plush give of your breasts, the untouched warmth between your legs that he'd claim inch by aching inch.

His parents' words echoed faintly, a nudge he'd ignored for too long.

Settle, mate, build a legacy.

Fine. He'd do it, but only with you.

Filling you until your belly swelled with the promise of their grandchild, your wide hips cradling the life you'd create together. But first, he had to break through that shy wall you hid behind, tease it down with lips and fingers until you begged. Gripping the necklace tighter, the pearl warm against his skin, he started after you again with his strides longer and more predatory, the throb in his loincloth a insistent drumbeat urging him on.

You veered toward the village center, where the midday bustle hummed.

The hunters sharpening spears under woven awnings, children darting between legs with laughter like splashing water, women carrying baskets of fresh catch from the reef. The air hummed with the scent of smoked fish and blooming vines but your focus narrowed to escape to the cool shade of the gathering pavilion where Tsireya might be waiting. Your bare feet sank into the soft path, each step sending a faint tremor up your legs, your breasts shifting gently with the motion, nipples pebbling against the beaded strands from the breeze off the sea and Ao’nung's advances earlier.

He caught up before you reached the pavilion's edge, his hand wrapping around your upper arm, not rough but firm and halting you mid-stride. The contact seared, his callused fingers pressing into the soft flesh and you felt the heat of him radiate through your skin, stirring an unwelcome flutter low in your belly.

"(Y/N)." He breathed, voice a low rumble that vibrated against your back as he pulled you slightly aside into the partial shelter of a broad-leafed plant, its fronds casting dappled shadows over your faces.

His body crowded yours, his chest nearly brushing your shoulder blades but the hard line of his arousal was evident against your hip when he shifted closer unashamed.

It was a whole 360 from the restraint he had when you were under the selective memory loss and was humping him like you were in heat. Still, you twisted in his grip, cheeks heating as you met his gaze. Those intense teal eyes darkened with hunger, his pupils blown wide like the deep sea at night.

"Let go." You whispered, voice trembling with the effort to sound firm though your body betrayed you, leaning just a fraction into his warmth.

Innocence cloaked you still. You knew the basics of mating from hushed talks with Tsireya, the sacred joining under Eywa's gaze but the raw mechanics of the stretch, the slick slide, the overwhelming fullness remained a hazy mystery, one that made your pulse skitter when his thumb traced a slow circle on your arm.

Ao'nung didn't release you.

Instead he stepped nearer, his free hand rising to cup your jaw, tilting your face up so your lips hovered perilously close to his. His breath fanned hot over your mouth, carrying the faint tang of salt and desire.

"I can't." He admitted, the words rough and laced with a yearning that twisted his features, brows furrowing as if the confession pained him. "Not anymore. You think I'm chasing Saraye? That laugh was at her foolishness, nothing more. She's a shadow, (Y/N). You... you're the one pulling me under."

His thumb brushed your lower lip parting it slightly and you felt the damp heat building between your thighs, unfamiliar and insistent, making you clench instinctively.

Your breath hitched, eyes fluttering as you fought the pull, the way his touch ignited sparks along your nerves.

"Prove it." You challenged softly though your voice cracked, body arching subtly toward him despite your words. "Words are easy for you. You've said them to others."

The accusation hung between you, your free hand pressing against his chest as you feel the rapid thud of his heart beneath the firm muscle, his tattoos curling like waves over his pecs. He groaned low, the sound vibrating through his chest right into your palm, his grip on your jaw tightening just enough to hold you steady as he leaned in with his nose brushing yours.

"Easy? This is torture." He murmured, lips grazing the corner of your mouth in a tease that sent liquid fire pooling in your core. "Every night with or without you in my marui, I ache hard from the thoughts of burying deep inside you, feeling your walls clench around me for the first time. Your innocence drives me mad, yawntu. I want to ruin it, show you how good it can be, how you'd drip for me, beg for my cock to fill that sweet virgin pussy but I had to hold back because I do not want you to hate me once you got your memories back. I did not want you to think I’m taking advantage of your selective amnesia just to get my dick wet."

The words were filthy, explicit, yet honest as it painted pictures that made your knees weaken and your heart soften in understanding.

You shoved at him harder though your push lacked conviction, fingers splaying over the ridges of his abs, tracing the dips involuntarily.

"Stop." You gasped but it came out breathy, your hips shifting restlessly, the friction of your loincloth against your swelling clit a new torturous sensation.

He was obsessed, you could see it in the way his eyes raked over you as it devoured the swell of your tits straining the beads, the flare of your hips he wanted to grip while thrusting home. Blooming festering love simmered beneath the lust making his yearning palpable like a tide dragging you under its pull.

But you held firm, barely, the doubt about Saraye a anchor keeping you from melting. "Not like this. Not when I see you with her in my mind."

Your eyes shimmered with unshed tears and it only fueled his determination, his hand sliding down to your waist, thumb dipping just under the edge of your top to stroke the soft skin there. Ao'nung's jaw clenched, frustration and adoration warring in his expression as he pulled back slightly enough to scan the growing crowd nearby.

The villagers milling about the pavilion, conversations dipping as eyes turned toward your secluded spot. Tsireya lingered at the edge, her gaze sharp while Saraye hovered further back, arms crossed watching with narrowed eyes.

Perfect. If words weren't enough, action would be.

He straightened, keeping one hand possessively on your hip, the necklace still fisted in the other and raised his voice, letting it carry over the hum of the village like a hunter's call.

"(Y/N) is mine as I am hers." He declared, the words booming with finality, drawing gasps and murmurs from the gathered clan.

Heads turned, whispers rippling like waves as Ao'nung, the untamed future Olo'eyktan, announced a courtship? He'd never done this, never laid claim publicly, always keeping his entanglements fleeting and private. No woman worthy enough to be considered to be courted yet here is he now.

"I am courting her officially under Eywa's light. No other. She is the only woman I see, the only one who stirs my blood, who I'll bond with body and soul." His eyes locked on yours pleading as he pressed the necklace into your palm, closing your fingers around it. "Prove it? This is proof. You're it for me."

The crowd erupted in stunned chatter, faces alight with surprise as hunters exchanged wide-eyed looks and women clutching their baskets tighter in envy. Tsireya's lips curved into a knowing smirk, her gaze sliding to Saraye who paled, shoulders slumping as the implications sank in.

You stood there with the necklace warm in your hand, heart pounding wildly, the lewd promise in his earlier words still echoing making your body hum with unspent tension. You hadn't given in fully, not yet as the hesitance in you held you back demanding more time to believe but the public vow cracked something inside leaving you trembling on the edge, his obsession a thrilling current pulling you closer.

The murmurs of the clan still swirled around you like the eddies in a tidal pool, eyes lingering on the two of you with a mix of awe and curiosity but Ao'nung's declaration hung in the air like a claimed territory.

You searched his face, those sharp features etched with a sincerity that cut through the haze of your doubts.

He wasn't a liar, no.

The future Olo'eyktan might chase skirts and leave hearts in his wake but deceit wasn't his vice. He was transparent with everything. His words had weight, forged in the heat of his affections for you and they settled over you, heavy yet oddly reassuring.

Hesitantly you nodded, the motion small, your chin dipping just enough to signal surrender to the moment.

A wide triumphant grin split his face, his teeth flashing white against the teal of his skin as he stepped closer, the crowd fading into a distant hum. His fingers brushed the nape of your neck sending a shiver racing down your spine. The necklace's cool pearls slid against your collarbone as he fastened it, the shell pendant nestling between the soft swell of your breasts right where your beaded top parted slightly with each breath.

"You're so beautiful, yawntu." He murmured, voice dropping to a husky timbre that vibrated through the scant space between you, his gaze tracing the way the light caught the curve of your jaw and the full pout of your lips. "I'll court you every day, even after we're mated. I always will."

His thumb lingered at the clasp, a gentle press that made your pulse stutter, the warmth of his body invading your senses of musk and sea salt mingling with the faint earthy scent of his arousal.

You bit your lower lip, the plump flesh caught between your teeth as uncertainty flickered in your chest, words caught in your throat like fish in a net. The public vow was one thing but the intimacy of his promise tugged at something deeper, a shy ache that made your thighs press together subtly.

Ao'nung's eyes darkened at the sight, his breath hitching as he leaned in, forehead nearly touching yours.

"Come home?" He asked, the plea raw in his tone, laced with a vulnerability that cracked his usual bravado. "The marui doesn't feel like home without you in it anymore."

His hand found yours, fingers interlacing with a possessiveness that sent heat blooming across your skin, his calluses scraping lightly against your palm. Warmth flooded your chest, a gentle tide washing over the remnants of your resistance, easing the knot there. You nodded again, more firmly this time, letting him lead you away from the pavilion's edge, his stride confident as he wove through the thinning crowd.

The path to his marui wound along the lagoon's fringe, bioluminescent vines glowing faintly in the late afternoon light, their tendrils swaying like silent witnesses.

Behind you, Tsireya's voice cut through the air, sharp and laced with satisfaction as she turned to Saraye who stood rigid with her arms still crossed over her chest. Tsireya's smirk was a blade, her eyes gleaming with protective glee.

"He was never yours to begin with." She said, voice low but carrying the weight of finality, her posture straight and unyielding. "You better be glad my brother is too busy with her right now or you would have been punished for what you did."

Saraye's face drained of color, her lips parting in a silent retort but Tsireya turned away leaving the words to fester like an open wound.

Ao'nung was all smiles as he guided you up the familiar woven steps to his marui, the entrance draped in kelp curtains that parted with a soft rustle. The space inside enveloped you as he pulled you deeper, his hand never leaving yours until you stood in the heart of it, the low platform bed piled with soft furs in the corner.

"I'm taking your things back from your marui tomorrow." He declared, his grin softening into something warmer and more intimate as he faced you fully, his broad shoulders filling the doorway behind. "You belong here."

His free hand rose to trace the necklace's path along your throat, fingers dipping lower to skim the edge of your top where the beads clung to the underside of your breast. You nodded, the motion automatic, your body already yielding to the pull of his presence, the way his tattoos seemed to shift with each flex of muscle under his skin.

He exhaled slowly, stepping closer until his chest brushed yours, the hard planes pressing against your softer curves.

"I cannot erase my past, (Y/N). I was a skxwang." He said, voice rough with earnestness, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. "But I will do everything in my power to shield you from it. You... changed me. I want to be better for you and I will."

The confession hung between you, his hand sliding to your waist, thumb circling the dip above your hipbone igniting a spark that traveled straight to your core.

Your lips parted, a soft exhale escaping as you searched his face, the sincerity there chipping away at the last barriers.

"How?" You whispered, voice trembling with a mix of fear and curiosity, your fingers tightening in his grip. "You've always been... free with your affections. What makes this different? Me?"

Ao'nung's jaw tightened, a low growl rumbling in his throat as he pulled you flush against him, the rigid length of his cock pressing insistently against your belly through his loincloth.

"Everything." He breathed, his mouth hovering near your ear, breath fanning the sensitive shell. "You make me burn, yawntu. Not like the others who were just fleeting fires. With you, it's a storm, crashing and endless. I dream of tasting you, of making you writhe under me until you forget anyone came before you."

His words were a caress, filthy and direct, stirring an unfamiliar heat between your legs, a slick warmth that made you shift restlessly. You swallowed hard, cheeks flushing as naivety mixed with the budding ache.

"Tasting?" The question came out breathy and innocent, your wide eyes meeting his unaware of the depths he meant.

A feral glint entered his gaze, his grip on your waist firming as he guided you backward toward the bed platform, the furs yielding under your calves.

"Let me show you." He urged, voice dropping to a gravelly whisper laced with hunger. "No further than this, not yet. Just... let me worship you. See how it binds us closer than words."

His free hand trailed down your side, hooking into the tie of your loincloth loosening it with deliberate slowness, the fabric whispering as it fell away exposing the smooth expanse of your thighs and the untouched mound between them.

Your heart hammered with a shy protest rising but it died on your tongue as he knelt before you, his strong hands parting your legs gently, thumbs stroking the inner skin until gooseflesh prickled.

"Ao'nung..." You murmured, half plea and half wonder, your hands clutching his shoulders, nails digging into the firm muscle there.

The air felt charged and heavy with anticipation, your body trembling as he looked up at you, eyes dark with obsession.

"Trust me." He said, the words a vow, his breath ghosting over your core, making you gasp at the sudden sensitivity.

He leaned in, nose brushing the softness above your slit inhaling deeply, the musky sweetness of your arousal hitting him like a drug, his cock twitching painfully against the confines of his cloth, pre-cum beading at the tip.

"Eywa, you smell like sin and salvation. So fucking good." He groaned, the sound vibrating against your skin as his tongue flicked out, tracing a tentative line along your outer fold.

The sensation was electric, a jolt that arched your back, your thighs quivering as you gripped him tighter. You innocence shattered in that first touch of the wet and insistent tongue parting your lower lips to lap at the slickness gathering there. You whimpered needily, your hips bucking instinctively toward the source of pleasure as unfamiliar waves build low in your belly.

He growled in response, feral now, hands clamping onto your wide hips to hold you steady, his fingers sinking into the plush flesh as he devoured you. His mouth was relentless, tongue circling your entrance before delving inside, thrusting shallowly to taste your depths, the lewd wet sounds filling the marui like a forbidden chant.

"So tight, so fucking delicious." He mumbled against you, the vibrations sending sparks up your spine, his nose nudging your swelling clit with each eager press.

You moaned head falling back, the necklace's pendant swaying with the motion and cool against your heated skin. Pleasure coiled tighter, a pressure you'd never known making your toes curl into the furs.

"What... what is this?" You gasped, voice breaking as his lips sealed around your pearl sucking gently then harder, teeth grazing just enough to tease.

"This is you coming alive for me." He rasped, pulling back briefly, his chin glistening with your essence, eyes wild with lust as he stroked himself through his loincloth, the outline of his thick shaft straining.

The sight made your core clench emptily, a fresh gush of wetness coating his waiting tongue as he dove back in, lapping sloppily and nastily like a man starved. His tongue flattened dragging from your entrance to your clit in long deliberate strokes savoring every drop and every quiver.

Minutes blurred in agonizing bliss as he alternated between soft licks and fervent sucks, one hand sliding up to pinch and roll your nipple through the beads, the dual assault making stars burst behind your eyelids. Your breaths came in pants, body slick with sweat and breasts heaving as the tension wound higher, your innocence yielding to the raw ecstasy he coaxed from you.

"That's it, yawntu." He encouraged between laps, voice muffled and desperate, his free hand fisting the furs to keep from touching himself further, cock leaking steadily now, the damp spot growing. "Let go for me. I want to feel you flood my mouth, mark me as yours."

His words pushed you closer, the obsession in his tone mirroring the love that simmered beneath, his mouth working you with single-minded fervor.

The peak crashed over you slowly at first then all at once. A tidal wave of sensation that had you crying out, thighs clamping around his head as your walls fluttered, release soaking his eager tongue. He drank it down, humming in approval, not stopping until you sagged boneless and spent, his kisses turning gentle on your trembling thighs.

Rising slowly, he pulled you into his arms, cock still hard and insistent against your hip but he held back, forehead resting against yours.

"See?" He whispered, voice hoarse with restraint. "This is just the beginning. You're mine now, in ways words can't touch."

Your body hummed with aftershocks, the corruption sweet and irreversible, drawing you deeper into his web.

Since then, your days blurred into a rhythm of relentless pursuit from him. Ao'nung's promises weaving into the fabric of your shared life like vines claiming a trellis. From that charged day in the marui, he hadn't faltered, not once. His courtship unfolded with a shameless fervor that left the clan buzzing with whispers trailing you both like schools of fish in the lagoon. He was a man unashamed, his affections poured out in broad daylight drawing eyes yet there was a steadiness to it now, a depth that silenced the skeptics over time.

Ronal's approval came first, her sharp gaze softening in ways you'd rarely seen.

As the family gathered in the central marui for the dawn meal, the air thick with the scent of roasted fish and fresh ilu kelp, she pulled Ao'nung aside after the others had scattered to their tasks. You lingered near the entrance, adjusting the shell bracelet he'd gifted you the day before, its smooth edges cool against your wrist. Tonowari nodded from his seat by the fire pit, his broad frame relaxed but it was Ronal who spoke, her voice a quiet command laced with warmth.

"Take care of (Y/N)." She said, her hand resting on his arm, fingers pressing into the inked patterns that marked his lineage. Her eyes, usually piercing with the weight of her tsahìk duties, held a rare tenderness, the lines around them crinkling faintly. "As much as you are my son, she is also a daughter to me."

The words carried the gravity of her promise to Riki’ea and Ar'von, her posture straightening as she glanced toward you with a subtle smile curving her lips.

Ao'nung met his mother’s gaze steadily, his jaw set with resolve, the muscles in his neck shifting under the morning light filtering through the woven walls.

He knew the roots of her affection, your mother had been her closest companion, a bond forged in youth and shattered too soon by death. Ronal had watched over you ever since, a silent guardian weaving you into the family's tapestry.

"I will, Mother." He replied, voice low and fervent, his hand covering hers briefly. "She's everything now. I swear it on the ancestors."

Tonowari grunted in approval clapping his son's shoulder with a firm thud that echoed his pride, the clan's future olo'eyktan finally stepping into the role they'd long urged.

The exchange lingered in Ao'nung's mind as he sought you out later that afternoon, the sun hanging high over the reef, casting dappled patterns on the sand. You were at the water's edge, knees drawn up as you watched young na'vi children splash in the shallows, their laughter mingling with the crash of waves.

He approached without preamble, dropping to sit beside you, his thigh brushing yours in a casual intimacy that sent a quiet thrill through your veins. His skin was warm from the hunt earlier, a faint sheen of sweat tracing the ridges of his abdomen where his loincloth rode low.

"Yawntu." He murmured, voice a soft rumble that drew your eyes to his face, to the strong line of his nose and the way his full lips quirked in that shameless grin. He reached for your hand, interlacing fingers with a gentleness that belied his being, thumb stroking the inside of your wrist where your pulse fluttered. "Walk with me? The cove beyond the mangroves, it's quiet there. Just us."

His gaze dipped briefly to the curve of your neck, where the necklace he'd placed there days ago rested against your skin, the pendant rising with each breath.

You hesitated only a moment, the warmth of his touch coaxing a nod from you, your body already leaning into the pull.

As you rose, he kept hold of your hand leading you along the shore, his stride measured to match yours, the sand shifting underfoot. The cove was a hidden gem, enclosed by twisting roots and lapped by gentle currents, the water a crystalline blue that invited submersion. He didn't release you until you both waded in up to your waists, the coolness shocking against the heat of the day.

There with the water buoying your forms, he turned to you, hands sliding to your waist, fingers splaying over the dip of your hips.

"I've been thinking of you all morning." He confessed, his breath warm against your temple as he drew you closer, chests nearly touching.

The water made everything feel weightless, his touch exploratory as palms glide up your sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts through the thin barrier of your top. It was soft, this affection laced with a darker undercurrent that made your breath hitch as heat pooled low in your belly.

"Ao'nung." You whispered, a shy smile tugging at your lips despite the flush creeping up your neck.

His name felt natural on your tongue again but the old endearment hovered, waiting. You liked this, the way he looked at you like you were the only tide worth chasing, his body responding to yours with an openness that chipped away at your reservations.

He chuckled lowly, the sound vibrating through the water as he leaned in, lips grazing your earlobe. "Say it properly, yawntu. That one nickname I miss hearing from you."

His hands dipped lower, cupping the swell of your ass beneath the surface and squeezing just enough to elicit a soft gasp from you, the pressure firm yet tender, igniting sparks along your nerves.

Softening under his gaze, you let the words slip out, tentative at first.

"Nungie..." It was a murmur laced with affection, your fingers tracing the edge of his jaw.

His eyes lit with triumph, a groan escaping him as he pulled you flush against him, the hard line of his arousal pressing into your thigh through the water's veil.

"There it is." He breathed, voice husky with desire, one hand tangling in your hair to tilt your head back, exposing the column of your throat.

He nuzzled there, lips trailing open-mouthed kisses down to your collarbone, tongue flicking out to taste the salt on your skin mixed with the sea's brine. It was lewd in its intimacy, his free hand roaming to tease the tie of your top, loosening it just enough for the fabric to slip baring one turquoise breast to the cool air above the waves.

You arched into him, a quiet moan bubbling up as his mouth descended capturing the peaked nipple between his lips, sucking with a slow deliberate rhythm that sent jolts straight to your core. The water lapped around you, heightening every sensation of the swirl of his tongue, the gentle scrape of teeth, his hips rolling subtly to grind against you.

"Nungie, please." You whimpered, hands clutching his shoulders, nails leaving faint crescents on his teal skin.

He pulled back slightly, eyes dark with lust but tempered by reverence, his thumb circling your wet nipple.

"I could do this forever." He said, voice rough, forehead pressing to yours. "Taste every inch, make you feel how deep this runs."

But he reined it in, retieing your top with careful fingers, the promise lingering in his touch as he kissed you deeply, tongues tangling in a dance that left you breathless.

Word of his devotion spread like ripples from a dropped stone. The clan noticed the change, the way Ao'nung no longer lingered at gatherings with wandering eyes, his attention fixed solely on you. During a communal hunt preparation the next eve as warriors sharpened spears under the torchlight, he wove through the group to bring you a woven basket of fresh fruits, his hand brushing your lower back possessively as he leaned in.

"For you." He said, popping a ripe berry between your lips, his thumb lingering to wipe the juice from your chin, eyes locked on the way your mouth worked around it.

The gesture was affectionate and public drawing smirks from the others but he ignored them, focused on the spark in your eyes.

Tsireya watched from afar, her nod subtle, approval clear in her relaxed stance as she sees her brother finally making everything right for you.

That night back in the marui, the air hummed with the soft glow of lanterns, furs spread invitingly on the platform. He drew you down with him, bodies aligning in a tangle of limbs, his mouth finding yours in a kiss that started sweet and turned heated.

"You're softening to me." He observed between breaths, his hand slipping under your loincloth to cup your cunt gently, fingers tracing lazy circles over your folds without parting them, just enough pressure to make you squirm.

"Maybe I am." You admitted, voice breathy, calling him "nungie" again as you nipped at his lip, your leg hooking over his hip.

The lewd press of his erection against your thigh was insistent but he kept it teasing and with a drawn line, grinding slowly while his mouth explored your neck, sucking marks that bloomed like bruises of possession.

He proved it daily, to you in stolen touches that left you aching, to the clan in his unwavering focus, to his parents in quiet reports of your growing bond. Ronal's smile grew wider each time she saw you together, her hand often squeezing yours in passing, a silent affirmation.

And as the days stretched, your walls crumbled further which led to the very night he had been praying Eywa for.

The marui enveloped you in its hushed intimacy, the woven walls filtering the distant hum of the reef into a soothing lull. The lights casting a soft ethereal glow across the furs strewn over the sleeping platform, their light dancing on Ao'nung's teal skin as he knelt before you, his broad shoulders tense with a mix of reverence and barely leashed hunger.

Your heart pounded in your chest, a wild rhythm that echoed the waves outside, your wide hips shifting slightly as you sat cross-legged, the thin straps of your top straining against the swell of your breasts with each shallow breath.

His eyes, dark and intense, locked onto yours, the faint scar along his jaw catching the light, making his handsome features sharper and more commanding.

"Yawntu." He murmured, voice a low vibration that sent shivers racing down your spine, his large hand reaching for yours with a gentleness that contrasted the raw power in his frame. His fingers intertwined with yours, thumb tracing the delicate bones of your wrist. "Before anything... we bond. As Eywa wills it. I respect that. Your heart, your ways, your convictions."

There was a earnest plea in his tone, his gaze unwavering, the muscles in his neck flexing as he swallowed hard, the weight of the moment pressing on him like the ocean's depth.

You nodded, a flush warming your cheeks, your full lips parting on a soft exhale. The innocence that had shielded you for so long felt fragile now, cracking under the heat of his stare but trust bloomed in its place nurtured by his relentless courtship, the way he'd shadowed your days with touches that lingered just shy of demanding.

"Nungie." You whispered, the endearment slipping out like a secret, your free hand rising to brush your kuru, the neural tendrils within it quivering in anticipation. "Show me."

He leaned forward, his breath mingling with yours, the scent of salt and earth clinging to him like a second skin.

With deliberate care, he guided your kurus together, the pink tendrils uncoiling from their protective braids, seeking each other in the dim light. They met with a soft electric hum, connecting in a rush that stole your gasp, your body arching involuntarily as the bond snapped into place. Sensations flooded you, not just your own but his.

The fierce protectiveness that had taken root during those quiet mornings by the shore, the frustration of holding back when your laughter had first chipped at his guarded heart, the slow burn of desire that ignited fully in the marui nights, watching your hips sway as you moved. How he found you beautiful even way before the incident and how curiosity and fondness festered when he actually got to know you.

Memories cascaded through the link, vivid and unfiltered.

You saw Saraye's approach that fateful morning, her form pressing close muttering propositions and claims he rebuffed firmly, his mind already tangled in thoughts of you that day. The truth unfolded raw and undeniable, his encounters with her a fleeting accident as he was too determined to gather pretty shells and stones for you to apologize when she interrupted.

No lies, no hidden depths, just the stark honesty of a man remaking himself for one woman.

And then, the love.

It washed over you like a tidal surge, blooming from stolen glances during hunts, to the ache in his chest when you'd called him “nungie” again, to the all-consuming fire that now raged possessive and tender vowing to claim every part of you. You felt it in your bones, the depth of it mirroring the pull in your own soul, tears pricking your eyes as you clutched his hand tighter.

"It's real." You breathed voice trembling with awe, your supple curves pressing forward as you leaned into him, the bond amplifying the warmth pooling between your thighs.

Ao'nung's eyes darkened, a groan rumbling from his chest as the connection deepened, his free hand cupping your jaw, thumb sweeping over your lower lip. "All of it, yawntu. Every beat of my heart, yours now."

The bond thrummed with his arousal, a throbbing heat that matched the slick ache building in you but he held back, lips crashing against yours in a kiss that started fierce and melted into something soul-deep, tongues sliding in a rhythm that echoed the bond's pulse. When he finally pulled away, his breathing ragged, the air between you crackled with intent.

The tsaheylu held you linked, every sensation shared, heightening the anticipation as he eased you back onto the furs, his body following caging yours without crushing.

His hands roamed with purpose now, no longer teasing as his palms slid up your sides to tug at the ties of your top, freeing your breasts to the cool air. They spilled out full and heavy, nipples pebbling under his gaze and he wasted no time, mouth descending to latch onto one peak, sucking with a wet insistent pull that drew a keening moan from your throat.

"Nungie—oh." You gasped, fingers threading into his hair, the bond flooding you with his pleasure at the taste of you that’s salty-sweet on his tongue.

He lavished attention on your skin, teeth grazing just enough to sting then soothing with broad licks, his hips settling between your thighs, the hard ridge of his erection grinding against your core through the thin barrier of your loincloth. The friction was maddening, your hips bucking up instinctively chasing the pressure as wetness soaked the fabric.

He chuckled against your breast, the vibration sending sparks through you before trailing kisses lower, nipping at the soft curve of your belly, hands working to peel away your loincloth. It slid free, exposing the flesh of your folds, already glistening with need. Ao'nung's breath hitched, eyes devouring the sight, his cock twitching visibly against his own cloth, straining the ties.

"So beautiful." He rasped, voice thick with lust, fingers parting your thighs wider as his thumbs brushed the sensitive inner skin. "My innocent yawntu, all mine to ruin."

Through the bond, you felt his thrill. The primal satisfaction of being first, the only one to witness you like this bare and trembling. He dipped his head, nose nudging your clit before his tongue flicked out, lapping at your entrance with a slow deliberate stroke that made your back bow. The taste of you exploded on his senses and shared with you in a dizzying loop, his groans muffled as he delved deeper, tongue thrusting inside your tight heat curling to coax more of your essence.

You writhed legs quaking, the bond amplifying every swirl and every suck on your swollen nub until stars burst behind your eyelids.

"Please, ma muntxa. More." You begged voice breaking, your innocence fracturing under the onslaught of pleasure as your mind fogged with the sheer intensity.

He obliged, one finger joining his tongue, pressing past your virgin barrier with care, the stretch burning sweetly as he pumped slowly, scissoring to prepare you. The bond let you feel his restraint fraying, the way your walls clenched around him driving him wild and his pre-cum beading at his tip.

He rose then shedding his loincloth in a swift motion, his cock springing free as the flushed head leaked, curving slightly toward his taut abdomen. It was imposing, larger than you'd imagined in your shy fantasies and your eyes widened, a mix of awe and trepidation fluttering through the bond.

"This is for you, yawntu. Your first and last cock." Ao'nung's lips curved in a predatory smile, hand wrapping around the base, stroking once to ease the ache. "Gonna fill you so deep, make you take every inch."

Positioning himself at your entrance, he notched the tip against your folds, rubbing through the slickness to coat himself, the drag teasing your clit until you whimpered.

"Breathe for me." He instructed voice husky, leaning down to capture your mouth as he pushed forward.

The breach was slow, your tightness resisting then yielding with a pop that had you crying out into the kiss, nails digging into his biceps. Inch by inch, he sank in, the bond sharing the exquisite burn of your walls stretching around him, molding to his girth like they were made for it.

"Fuck so tight." He growled against your lips, hips stuttering as he bottomed out.

The bulge of his cock visible against your lower belly, a faint outline pressing upward. You felt full, impossibly so, every ridge and vein pulsing inside you, the bond echoing his ecstasy of the way your heat gripped him like a vice, milking him already. He stilled, forehead to yours, breaths mingling as he let you adjust, his hand splaying over the swell, his thumb pressing the bulge.

"Feel that? That's me, claiming you. My cock buried in your sweet little cunt."

Tears of overwhelmed sensation slipped down your temples but you nodded, hips shifting experimentally drawing a hiss from him.

"Move, Nungie. Please." You pleaded, voice dazed, the pleasure coiling tight in your core chasing the high he'd built with his mouth.

He did, pulling back almost to the tip before thrusting in deep, setting a rhythm that started measured, each slide dragging against your sensitive walls, the wet sounds of your joining filling the marui. The bond intensified it all, his building need, the slap of skin, the way your breasts bounced with each plunge.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, heels digging into his ass urging him deeper, your moans turning incoherent as he angled to hit that spot inside, sparks igniting with every grind.

"That's it, yawntu. Take me." He panted, pace quickening, one hand pinning your hip while the other teased your clit with circles matching his thrusts.

Sweat slicked your bodies, his tattoos gleaming as his muscles flexed, the scent of arousal heavy in the air. You felt yourself teetering, the bond pushing you over as your walls fluttered clenching in release, a gush of wetness coating him. He groaned riding it out, thrusts erratic as your orgasm milked him but he didn't stop, flipping you onto your stomach with a possessive growl.

"Not done." He murmured, voice rough with obsession, lifting your hips to enter from behind.

The new angle letting him go deeper, the bulge more pronounced as he rutted into you. His hand snaked around to rub your oversensitive nub, the other tangling in your hair to arch your back, exposing the kuru still linked. Through it, you felt his intent crystal clear, the drive to breed, to flood you with his seed and make it take root.

"Gonna fill this pussy, make you swell with my child. Make you a mama carrying our future."

The words sent a fresh wave of heat through you, your body responding despite the ache, pushing back to meet his hips, the lewd squelch of your combined fluids spurring him on. He pounded harder, balls slapping against your clit, the bond a torrent of his love twisted with feral need. It was nasty and unyielding, pouring into every snap of his hips. You came again vision blurring, mind going blissfully blank, cockdumb and lost in the stretch and the fullness as you mewled his name like a prayer.

Ao'nung followed with a growl, burying deep as he spilled hot pulses painting your walls, the bond letting you feel the rush of his release, the satisfaction of marking you inside out. He collapsed over you still joined, cock twitching with aftershocks, but even as he softened slightly, he rocked gently, ensuring every drop stayed buried.

"Mine." He breathed into your neck, kissing the bite he'd left earlier as his hand cradled your belly. "We'll do this again. Tonight, tomorrow, every day. Until it takes."

You hummed, sated and boneless, turning your head for a lazy kiss, the bond humming with shared contentment. He pulled out slowly after a time, only to flip you back, sliding in once more, already hardening at the sight of your flushed form and the cum leaking from your abused entrance.

The second round built slower, his thrusts languid, drawing out gasps as he worshipped your body anew with kisses to your throat, fingers pinching nipples, whispering filthy promises of the family you'd build.

By the third, you were a wreck of whimpers, riding him atop, hips grinding as he bucked up, the bulge reforming with each deep seat, his hands guiding your wide hips, thumbs digging into the soft flesh.

Hours blurred, the marui filled with your shared cries, the bond sealing not just your souls but your fates as his seed took hold in the fertile ground of your innocence, corrupted and cherished in equal measure.

Soon, sunlight filtered through the woven panels of the marui, casting golden flecks across the furs where you lay tangled with Ao'nung, your bodies still humming from the night's fervor.

Your skin tingled with a newfound warmth, a subtle ache between your thighs a reminder of his thorough claiming and as you stirred, a soft glow seemed to radiate from within, your cheeks flushed with contentment.

He was already awake, propped on one elbow, his tattooed arm draped possessively over your waist, fingers tracing lazy patterns along the curve of your hip. His eyes, usually sharp with command, softened as they roamed your face, drinking in the way your lashes fluttered open and your full lips curving into a sleepy smile.

"Yawntu." He whispered, voice rough from sleep but laced with unbridled joy, leaning down to press a lingering kiss to your forehead then your nose, then the corner of your mouth.

He was insatiable in his affection, nuzzling into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent mingled with his own. A heady mix that made his chest rumble with satisfaction.

"My mate. Officially, irrevocably mine."

The words carried a triumphant edge, his broad frame shifting to pull you flush against him, the hard planes of his chest pressing into your softer form, his leg hooking over yours to keep you close.

You giggled, the sound light and bubbling up as his hands wandered with tender care, one cupping your breast gently, thumb brushing the sensitive peak until it hardened under his touch.

"Nungie." You murmured squirming playfully, your wide hips shifting against him, feeling the familiar stir of his arousal but basking in the simple intimacy.

He chuckled low and warm, moving to fetch a damp cloth from the basin nearby insisting on tending to you himself as he wiped away the remnants of your shared passion with slow reverent strokes that made your breath hitch.

"Let me." He insisted softly, his gaze locking onto yours with that intense devotion, the tattoos along his shoulders flexing as he worked.

He was happy, truly. Lines of tension smoothed from his forehead, a genuine smile tugging at his lips as he watched your reactions, your giggles filling the space like music. When he finished, he gathered you into his lap, feeding you bites of fresh fruit from the woven basket, his free hand stroking your kuru.

But as the morning deepened, reality tugged at you.

"I have to help Tsireya with something." You said reluctantly, trying to extricate yourself from his hold, your voice tinged with apology.

His arms tightened immediately, a dramatic whine escaping his throat. This towering inked warrior all muscle and scars pouting like a child denied a treat.

"No." He groaned burying his face in your hair, his breath warm against your scalp. "Stay. We just... bonded. I don't want to let you go, not even for a moment."

His voice cracked with mock despair but the clinginess was real, his hands roaming your back in pleading circles, pulling you closer until your breasts pressed against his chest.

You laughed, the sound turning into more giggles as you cupped his face, thumbs tracing the strong line of his jaw. "Nungie, come on. It's just a few hours. You'll survive."

But he shook his head stubbornly, nipping at your earlobe, his teeth grazing just enough to send a shiver down your spine.

"Cruel, yawntu. Leaving your mate so soon after making him the happiest man in the clan." His eyes sparkled with mischief but there was a vulnerable undercurrent, the reluctance of distance after so much closeness.

You pouted up at him, lips pursing in that way you knew melted him, your eyes wide and pleading. "Please? For me?"

He held out for a heartbeat longer, jaw clenching then sighed dramatically, relenting with a grumbled curse under his breath.

"Fine. But I'm walking you there."

He stood pulling you up with him, his hands lingering on your waist as he helped you dress. Tying your loincloth with deliberate slowness, his fingers brushing the sensitive skin of your inner thighs drawing a fresh flush to your cheeks.

The path to the family marui wound through the village, the air alive with the calls of ilu and the chatter of early risers.

Ao'nung kept you tucked against his side, arm around your shoulders, his thumb stroking your arm in absent affection. But as you approached, his expression soured into a frown, forehead knitting when Tsireya spotted you from the entrance, her face lighting up with a knowing grin.

"Tsireya!" You called waving but Ao'nung's grip tightened fractionally, his steps slowing.

She laughed outright, the sound bright and teasing, leaning against the woven frame.

"Look at you two. And you—" She pointed at her brother, eyes dancing. "Frowning like a sulking pup. What's wrong, brother? Can't bear to share her?"

He scowled deeper, crossing his arms over his broad chest, the tattoos shifting with the flex of his muscles. "Shut up, Reya."

But there was no real heat in it, just the playful bickering of siblings.

Tsireya turned to you then, her gaze softening as she took in your appearance. The subtle shine to your skin, the relaxed curve of your smile, the way you carried yourself with a newfound ease.

"You look glowing, (Y/N). Truly radiant." Her voice held genuine warmth, a hint of relief threading through.

Ao'nung's frown lifted into a smug smirk, his chest puffing slightly as he shot her a triumphant glance.

Yes, my cock did that.

He thought, the satisfaction blooming in his chest though he kept it to himself, instead pulling you closer with a possessive hand on your hip.

You swatted at his arm lightly, cheeks warming under the attention. "Go on, Nungie. Shoo. I need girl time with Tsireya."

But he planted his feet shaking his head, his expression turning mulish.

"No. I'm staying." His tone brooked no argument, eyes fixed on you with that unyielding intensity, the broad span of his shoulders blocking the path as if daring anyone to challenge him.

Tsireya snorted, rolling her eyes skyward. "Stubborn as ever. Come on, then. Help or not but don't be a headache Ao’nung."

Inside the marui, the air smelled of herbs and sea salt, mats spread with half-mended nets and beads scattered for weaving.

You settled cross-legged on the floor, Tsireya beside you, passing over a bundle of fibers to start on.

Ao'nung followed dropping down behind you with a huff, his legs bracketing yours, arms encircling your waist to draw you back against his chest. His chin rested on your shoulder, breath fanning your neck as you began chatting, your fingers deftly twisting the materials.

Tsireya watched the pair of you for a moment then shook her head with an exasperated laugh. "You're so clingy, Ao'nung. You do not have to be here, you know? We can handle mending without your brooding presence."

He smirked against your skin, lips brushing your ear in a way that made you shiver, his hold tightening just enough to emphasize his point.

"That's what mates do, right? Stay close. Protect what's mine." His voice was low and teasing but the words carried a deeper truth, the warmth of his body seeping into yours, making it hard to focus on the task.

You could only giggle leaning into him despite yourself, the vibration of his chuckle rumbling through you as Tsireya launched into another retort.

"Protect? From what, loose threads? You're ridiculous." She flicked a bead at him but her eyes sparkled with amusement, the sibling squabble light-hearted, pulling more laughter from you as you mediated with playful nudges.

From the doorway, a distance away, Ronal leaned against the frame, her arms crossed loosely, a soft smile curving her lips as she observed the scene. The three of you, her children and the woman who'd become like a daughter, bickering and laughing, the marui filled with a harmony she'd long hoped for.

Riki'ea.

She thought, her gaze lingering on you with quiet affection.

I hope you're seeing this. Your daughter is truly happy now.

The words were a silent prayer to her best friend and her husband, her heart swelling at the sight of your joy, that selective amnesia started the bond that had finally woven you and Ao’nung together.

"Look at the ridges on this, Aonung," you said, breaking the silence as you lifted the shell up toward him.

You took a step closer, water swirling around your thighs. Your eyes were wide, sparkling with that infectious excitement you only got when you found a new treasure for your art. "The symmetry is perfect. Eywa really was showing off when she made this one."

Aonung stared at the shell, forcing his eyes to focus on the calcium spiral rather than the water dripping from your curls, and gliding over your ceremonial tattoo. Then, against his will, his gaze drifted up to your face. He felt that familiar tight pull in his chest—a mixture of suffocating pride and a desperate, surging need to be the reason that look stayed on your face. He wanted to be the source of that wonder, not a dead piece of calcium.

"It is... adequate," he managed to say, his voice a bit deeper than usual, rough like gravel rolling in the surf.

He felt foolish the moment the words left his lips. Adequate? It was a beautiful find. But his defenses were high, a wall built of teenage bravado and the terrifying vulnerability of a first love. He didn't wait for you to respond. He turned abruptly and effortlessly dove, his powerful tail kicking up a spray of glowing foam that misted the air between you.

You simply hummed with a small tilt of your head, unbothered by his stoicism. You dropped the shell into your basket, the clack of it joining the others, and watched his figure disappear into the darkening water.

Unbeknownst to you, underneath the surface, Aonung was on a mission.

The water was cooler here, silent save for the rush of the current. His bioluminescent spots glowed brightly in the dim depths, marking his path like a constellation. He swam past the easy finds—the common cowries and the drift-wood that Lo’ak was content finding in the shallows for his little sister. That was child's play. That was easy.

Aonung wanted the deeper parts of the reef. He wanted the places where the current was often unpredictable, where the pressure built against his ears, but where the rewards were unparalleled. He kicked harder, propelling himself toward a jagged drop-off where the coral grew thick and ancient. He scanned the crevices, his eyes adjusting to the gloom, hunting. He needed something that spoke of effort. Something that said, I went where others could not, just for you.

When he surfaced minutes later, he didn't just walk over and drop his finds into your basket. He waited. He treaded water, watching you scan the shoreline, waiting until you were standing still with that contemplative look on your face. He watched the way you bit your lower lip as you decided where to step next, your tail swaying in the water behind you for balance.

Only then did he move. He walked right into your space, dripping wet, the rising heat of his body radiating through the cool evening air. He stopped mere inches from you, close enough that you had to crane your neck slightly to look him in the eye.

"The shallows only give you what the ocean is tired of holding," he said softly, his voice low and intimate.

He reached out, his large hand hovering over your basket. He placed a cluster of small shells onto the pile of your woven treasures. They were heavy, distinct—a deep, blood-red color, their surfaces smooth as glass but thick and sturdy. They looked like they could withstand a storm, or a thousand years of tides.

You gasped, your fingers immediately abandoning your own basket rim to ghost over them.

"Aonung... these are beautiful," you whispered, the breath leaving your lungs. You looked up at him through your lashes, eyes wide. "The color... I’ve never seen this shade before. I can use the pigment from the broken ones to dye my thread the color of the eclipse sun. How did you find so many?"

You smiled, your ears swiveling back in delight as you felt your heart thump at the gesture. The realization hit you suddenly—he was so close. His broad frame towered over you, blocking out the view of the distant village fires, encompassing your entire world in that moment. You could practically trace every line of his tattoo that streamed from where his brow met his nose, to the right side of his face.

Aonung felt a swell of triumph so potent it nearly made him dizzy. He noticed the way you looked at the shells—with reverence and joy—and he silently vowed to empty the entire ocean floor, to fight an akula with his bare hands, if it meant you’d keep looking at him with those wide, appreciative eyes.

"I know where the hidden pockets are," he said, clearing his throat and trying to sound nonchalant.

He crossed his arms over his chest, though his own heart was hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. A smirk grew on his lips, that familiar teasing glint appearing in his eyes as he narrowed them. He did a dramatic look away toward the other couple, shrugging his shoulders. "Lo’ak and Tsireya are happy with the scraps. I thought you might want something... more."

You gasped, your ears swiveling back, and you slapped his bicep playfully. The muscle under your hand was hard as rock, and wet skin slick against your palm. A small giggle of shock fell past your lips.

"Do not be mean, Aonung," you chided, though there was no heat in it. "But... thank you. Thank you for being so helpful today."

You gave him a bright, blinding smile, one that crinkled the corners of your eyes, before happily going back to your searching. You adjusted the basket, treating his contribution like gold, and bent down again to inspect the sand closely.

Predictably, your curls fell forward again.

Aonung stood rooted to the spot. Once more, you huffed softly and flipped them back with that graceful, unconscious toss of your head. Aonung watched the movement, his hands twitching at his sides. His fingers curled into fists. He wanted so badly to reach out. He wanted to be the one to tuck those wayward curls behind your ear. He wanted to be the one to carry the basket that was clearly getting too heavy to rest on your hip. He wanted to do everything for you, and the intensity of the desire was terrifying.

"Hey! Y/N! Aonung! Check this out!"

The shout broke the spell. Lo’ak was waving his arms frantically from a tidal pool a twenty meters away. He was holding up a bright orange sea star, visibly dry— either a shed or it simply died before it could make it back to the water. "It’s huge!"

Aonung looked at Lo’ak, his jaw tightening. Then he looked back at you.

He saw you laugh at Lo’ak’s find, your attention shifting entirely to the forest boy. "That’s amazing, Lo’ak! It will make a great center for a chest piece!" you called, your voice light and affectionate.

A sudden, sharp spark of jealousy—not of Lo’ak as a rival, but of the attention you were giving the sea star—flared in Aonung’s chest. It burned hot and fast. A starfish? Anyone could find a starfish. A starfish was nothing.

He didn't say a word. He didn't acknowledge Lo'ak's shout. He just turned and dove again, slashing into the water with more force than necessary. He went deeper this time, past the red shells, past the coral ridge. He was determined to find something so magnificent, so rare, that you wouldn't be able to look at Lo'ak, or the stars, or anything else for the rest of the night.

You laughed softly at his sudden departure, shaking your head. "He is so competitive," you murmured to yourself, amused by his antics. To you, it was just boys being boys, trying to outdo one another in speed and skill.

As the time passed, the moon rose higher, casting a silver sheen over the water. Your basket grew heavier, forcing you to switch hips frequently. You shifted the weight of Aonung's growing pile of treasures—he had returned three more times, each time with something more impressive: a piece of obsidian glass, a pearl still inside the oyster, and a branch of coral that looked like frozen lightning.

Finally, Tsireya waded over to you, Lo'ak trailing behind her like a happy puppy.

"Your brother is in such a good mood today, isn't he?" you said, wiping the sand from your hands as you turned to Tsireya. You gestured to the waterline where Aonung was currently surfacing, holding something that glowed faintly purple in his hands. "It's so nice of him to help me collect materials. Usually, he says weaving is boring work."

Tsireya froze. She looked at the rare, aesthetic hoard in your basket—materials that would have taken days to find in the shallows. She looked at the blood-red shells that required a dangerous dive into the trench.

Then, she looked out at the water. She saw her brother, the future Olo'eyktan, usually so proud and aloof, practically vibrating with the hope that you would like his latest offering. He was looking at you with an expression so open, so full of longing, that it was almost painful to witness.

Finally, she looked back at your sweet, oblivious face. You were smiling, genuinely believing Aonung was just being a dutiful clan member.

Tsireya let out a long, slow sigh, shaking her head.

"Yes, Ma tsmuke," Tsireya murmured, a pitying smile on her lips as she patted your arm. "Extremely... 'nice.'"

The following week dissolved into a blur of turquoise water and sun-bleached moments, defined less by your daily chores and more by the sudden, omnipresent gravity of the chief’s son. It was as if he had developed a sixth sense for your whereabouts, appearing whenever you were just starting to feel relaxed.

He appeared at random, unpredictable hours, disrupting the rhythm of your day with the chaotic energy of a storm tide. If you were mending nets by the docks, his shadow would suddenly fall over your work, his hands "accidentally" brushing yours as he offered to help with a knot you perfectly understood how to tie. If you were having a quiet meal, he would drift by, dropping a fresh fruit onto your woven mat without a word, only a smirk that lingered long after he had walked away.

But it was the afternoons beneath the water that became his favorite hunting ground.

You were deep underwater, the sunlight filtering down in shimmering "god-rays" that danced across the sandy floor, riding ilus with the Sully children and Tsireya. Down here, the world was silent save for the muffled clicks of the sea life and the rhythmic beat of your own heart.

You were all gliding through a forest of giant sea fans, the Sullys struggling a bit with their breathing rhythms while Tsireya moved with the effortless grace of a creature born of the current. You were focused on your own mount, adjusting your grip on the neural bond, when a large, dark shadow swept over you.

Aonung appeared right beside you, his ilu banking sharply to match your speed. In the turquoise gloom, his bioluminescent dots glowed like a map of the stars. He caught your eye and flashed a wide, shit-eating grin that sent a jolt through your chest. He didn't say a word—he didn't have to. He simply raised a hand, signing one sharp, challenging word:

“Race?”

You didn't even wait to signal the others. You leaned flat against the ilu’s neck, and the two of you went full throttle.

The pressure of the water increased as you accelerated, the reef becoming a blur of neon streaks. You pushed through the resistance, your tail acting as a secondary rudder, feeling the raw power of the ocean rushing past your skin. You and Aonung were neck-and-neck, weaving through coral arches and tight rock formations, completely dusting your friends. By the time you looped around the massive sea-wall and tore back toward the shore, the rest of the group was nothing but distant, tiny specks in the blue.

As the water turned from deep indigo to the pale, sun-drenched teal of the shallows, you both breached the surface simultaneously.

You gasped for air, the transition from the silent depths to the crashing sound of the waves making your head spin for a moment. Aonung popped up just inches away. He was desperately trying to play it cool, smoothing his hair back with both hands, but he couldn't hide the heavy, ragged heave of his chest. The race had pushed him just as hard as it had pushed you.

In the heat of the moment, your eyes betrayed you.

Instead of looking at the horizon or checking on the others, your gaze drifted. It started at his soaked hair, which was plastered to his forehead, then traced the dark, intricate tattoos that marked his face as a future leader. Your eyes lingered on his broadening shoulders and the powerful swell of his chest, following the lines of his body down to his core. His abs were defined and tense from the exertion, partially obscured by a beautifully woven chest piece that slung around his shoulders—a piece you knew he’d spent time choosing.

Aonung went still. He caught you staring, the exhaustion in his eyes instantly replaced by a predatory, playful spark. His ears flickered once, twice, and then that arrogant, knowing grin returned.

“My eyes are up here, ma txe’lan,” he teased.

His voice was a low, honeyed rumble that cut through the sound of the surf. You felt the blood rush to your face instantly, your ears flattening in pure mortification as your eyes shot back up to meet his. He watched your panic with absolute delight, his smile growing wider as he realized exactly how much of an effect he was having on you.

You quickly regained your composure, holding your head high as you huffed at him, trying to summon every ounce of dignity you had left while your face still burned a vivid shade of violet.

“I was simply observing the weaving!” you shot back, splashing a handful of water toward him to distract from your blush. “I helped make that piece, y’know? I was checking to see if you’d managed to fray the edges already with your... recklessness.”

Aonung didn’t flinch at the water; he leaned into it, his grin only sharpening. He looked down at the woven leather and shell-work crossing his chest, then back at you, his eyes hooded and dark with mischief.

"Ah, so it was a professional inspection then?" he asked, his voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper. He began to paddle his ilu closer, the creature’s wet skin squeaking against yours as he closed the gap. "Tell me, weaver, did the 'work' meet your standards? Or do you need to get closer to check the... structural integrity?"

He was so close now that you could feel the heat radiating off his skin, a stark contrast to the cool ocean mist clinging to your shoulders. The playful arrogance in his posture was infuriating, mostly because it was working.

"The work is fine," you managed to say, though your voice lacked its usual bite. "The wearer, however, is being a nuisance."

"A nuisance?" Aonung laughed, the sound deep and genuine. He reached up, his large hand lingering near the strap of the chest piece, right over the fastening thrum of his heart. "And here I thought I was being helpful, giving you a chance to admire your handiwork in action. Most artists would be grateful for such a... fine canvas."

He flexed his shoulder slightly, making the shells on the strap clack together—the very shells he had dived into the deep reef to find for you just a week prior. It was a silent reminder of the effort he was putting in, a hidden thread of vulnerability beneath his teasing— and unbeknownst to you, he’d chosen that piece because he recognized your work.

Before you could think of a witty retort, the sound of chattering ilus and splashing water announced the arrival of the others.

"Finally!" Lo’ak’s voice boomed as he surfaced a few yards away, his expression a mix of annoyance and awe. "What was that? You guys took off like you had an akula on your tails!"

Tsireya pulled up beside him, her eyes darting between your flushed face and Aonung’s smug expression. She didn't miss the way her brother was lingering in your personal space, or the way your tail was twitching nervously beneath the surface. A knowing, slightly weary smile touched her lips.

"Aonung, stop pestering her," Tsireya chided gently, though there was a twinkle of amusement in her eyes. "She came out here to enjoy the water, not to be run ragged by your ego."

"I was merely testing her speed, sister," Aonung said, finally pulling his mount back a few inches, though he kept his gaze locked on yours. "And it seems she is almost as fast as I am. Almost."

He winked at you—a quick, daring movement that felt like a secret shared in front of everyone—before turning his ilu to join the group.

The afternoon that followed was shared between the both of you. 

The sun, a bloated orb of fire, dipped toward the horizon, bleeding amber and gold into the turquoise waters of the reef. In the weavers' pavilion, the air was thick with the scent of dried sea grass, crushed minerals, and the faint, sweet aroma of the incense the elders burned to honor the Great Mother.

You sat nestled in your usual spot, your legs tucked beneath you. This was your sanctuary. While the others were out hunting or practicing with their spears, you found a different kind of power in the loom. There was a rhythm to it—a heartbeat in the clack-clack of the wood and the sliding of the shuttle.

You were surrounded by the elders of the clan, women whose hands were stained with dye and whose skin was etched with the deep, storied lines of many seasons. You loved their company; they didn't care about the petty dramas of the teenagers or the posturing of the hunters. They spoke of the ancestors, of the flow of Eywa, and today, they were particularly interested in your recent progress.

"Your thread is becoming stronger, little one," Ti’miria, the eldest among them, remarked as she peered over her spectacles made of polished translucent shell. "And your eye for color is improving."

You beamed, dipping a bundle of fibers into a bowl of fixative. "Thank you, Ti’miria. I’ve been trying a new technique for the binding." you watched a her eyes wandered to your material basket.

"You have been blessed by the tides, little one," Saeyla remarked, her voice like crinkling parchment. She gestured with a gnarled, dye-stained finger toward the cluster of deep, blood-red shells resting atop your fibers. "Those are not found by mere luck. They cling to the undersides of the jagged rocks where the currents are strong enough to rip a weak swimmer from the reef."

You flushed, reaching down to pick one up. It felt heavy and cool, its surface polished by the violence of the ocean. "I didn't find them," you said, your voice softening. "Aonung went to get them for me. He said the shallows were only for things the ocean was tired of holding."

A hush fell over the circle. It wasn't a cold silence, but one pregnant with meaning. Ti’miria exchanged a look with the woman beside her—a look that held the weight of a thousand seasons. They knew the pride of the Olo'eyktan’s son; they knew he didn't risk his life for "weaving supplies" unless his heart was already caught in the thread.

"Is that so?" She whispered, a secretive, knowing smile stretching her lips. "How very... helpful of him."

Before you could defend his honor or insist it was just a display of his typical arrogance, a shadow lengthened across the pavilion floor. The heavy, rhythmic footfalls were unmistakable.

Aonung strode in, looking entirely too large and too vibrantly alive for the quiet space. He wasn't carrying a spear or a net. Instead, he held a small, sturdy basket of his own. Without a word of greeting to the elders—though he gave them a respectful dip of his head—he dropped onto the mat directly beside you.

"Aonung!" you hissed, your eyes wide as you leaned toward him. "What are you doing here? This is a quiet space."

He didn't look at you. Instead, he began pulling out strips of dark, cured leather and a handful of small, iridescent shells that shimmered like oil on water. "My father says a leader must know the craft of his people," he grumbled, though his ears were twitching in a way that suggested he was lying through his teeth. "I have... things to make. I am joining you."

You stared at his basket. It wasn't filled with broken gear to mend. It was filled with beautiful, hand-picked treasures—small, delicate white shells, obsidian beads, and a strange, glowing blue seaglass.

"Since when do you weave, Aonung?" you whispered, your voice hushed so the elders wouldn't hear your teasing.

"Since I decided I wanted to," he snapped back, though there was no heat in it. He fumbled with the leather strips, his large, calloused fingers looking comically oversized as he tried to start a basic four-strand braid.

You watched him for a moment, your heart doing a strange little skip. He was being so deliberate, his brow furrowed in that same intense concentration you had seen when he was hunting. You assumed he was making a new grip for his knife or perhaps a decorative band for his ilu. You had no idea that every shell in his basket had been chosen because it reminded him of the way the light caught your eyes, or that the length of the kelp leather he was braiding was exactly the circumference of your neck.

The hour stretched on. The elders eventually stopped staring and went back to their own work, their low hum of gossip returning like the evening tide.

Aonung was struggling. A low, frustrated growl vibrated in his chest as the leather strips slipped from his grip for the third time.

"You're pulling much too hard," you murmured, reaching over without thinking.

Your fingers brushed his, and he went perfectly still. The heat of his skin was startling against yours. You gently took the leather from his hands, showing him how to keep the tension even. "If you pull too hard on the left, the whole braid will twist. You have to be patient, Aonung. You have to follow to the material."

You guided his hands with yours, your smaller fingers resting over his knuckles. For a moment, the world narrowed down to the sensation of his skin, the smell of salt and sun that followed him everywhere, and the rhythmic sound of his breathing.

He didn't look at the braid. He was looking at you. His gaze was heavy, focused on the way your hair fell over your shoulder, on the small patch of bioluminescence near your collarbone where this necklace would soon rest, on the way your lips moved as you explained the craft.

"Like this?" he asked, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that made your stomach flip.

"Yes," you whispered, finally meeting his eyes. "Exactly like that."

You spent the rest of the evening in a state of quiet bliss. You discovered that Aonung was actually quite funny when he wasn't trying to be the toughest warrior in the village. He told you about the time he tried to ride a skimwing before he was ready and ended up face-first in a patch of stinging coral. He told you about the hidden caves behind the northern cliffs where the water turned a color so bright it looked like the sky.

And all the while, he worked. He meticulously wove the shells into the leather, his movements becoming more fluid under your guidance. He was creating a necklace—a piece of jewelry so intricate and beautiful it would have taken an expert weeks—but he was doing it in a single night, fueled by a desperate, silent need to give you something of his own making.

By the time the moon was high and the fireflies of the reef began their nightly dance, you were both finished. The pavilion was empty, the elders having slipped away long ago with knowing smiles.

"I should get back," you said, feeling a sudden, shy heaviness in your limbs. "My family will be wondering where I am."

"I will walk you," he said. It wasn't a suggestion.

He picked up your heavy basket, slinging it over his shoulder as if it weighed nothing, while he tucked his own finished work into a hidden pouch at his waist.

The walk to your marui was slow. The village was quiet, the only sound the soft slap-slapof the water against the pilings and the distant call of a night-bird. Aonung walked close to you—so close your shoulders occasionally brushed.

When you reached the entrance to your home, he handed you your basket. The moonlight caught the sharp angles of his face, softening the arrogance into something much more vulnerable.

"I enjoyed the weaving," he said, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. "Even if the elders are nosy."

You let out a soft giggle, your tail swaying behind you. "They just like to see you doing something that doesn't involve throwing a spear, Aonung."

You looked up at him, your heart hammering against your ribs. You wanted to say more. You wanted to ask him why he had really come, why he had looked at you like that over the leather strips, but the words felt too big for your throat.

"Thank you for walking me," you said instead, giving him a shy, radiant smile. "And for the help today."

"Goodnight, Y/N," he whispered.

You turned to go inside, your mind racing, but just as you reached the curtain, you looked back. He was still standing there, a dark silhouette against the silver water, watching you with an intensity that made your breath hitch. You waved a small, hesitant hand, and he nodded once before turning to melt into the shadows of the village.

As you stepped inside your marui and set your basket down, you felt a strange sense of completion. You didn't know yet that tomorrow, he would find you by the shore and press a cold, woven necklace into your hand—a gift of blue teardrop pearls, starlight and the talon of a reef bird to match his own, woven by the hands of a warrior who had finally found something worth holding onto more than his pride.

The golden hour in Awa’atlu was more than just a time of day; it was a transformation of the world. The Great Mother seemed to hold her breath as the sun, a bloated and magnificent orb of molten fire, dipped toward the horizon. It bled a palette of impossible colors—burning amber, bruised plum, and a liquid gold that turned the surface of the ocean into a shimmering mirror of fire.

The air was heavy and warm, carrying the sweet, intoxicating scent of the night-blooming flora from the shoreline and the sharp, clean tang of salt spray. It was the kind of evening that felt permanent, as if the universe had paused just to witness the transition from the frantic energy of the day to the bioluminescent peace of the night.

You were wading in the waist-deep water near the village docks, the cool, rhythmic lap of the tide a soothing balm against your skin. Today, you had finally unraveled your hair from its tight, intricate ceremonial braids. Without the weight of the beads and the structure of the weave, your hair felt immense—a thick, wild sea of curls that cascaded over your shoulders and floated atop the water like dark, silken kelp. You felt free, untethered, and entirely at peace.

Beside you, Tsireya was a picture of effortless grace. She was humming a soft, melodic tune—a song the Metkayina used to call the spirit of the water—as she moved through the shallows. In her hands, she held a woven basket of small, silvery fish. With practiced ease, she tossed them one by one to a group of young ilus that had gathered around you both.

The creatures were in a playful mood, their chattering clicks and whistles vibrating through the water. One particularly bold calf nudged its snout against your hip, nearly knocking you off balance. You laughed, the sound bright and clear in the evening air, as you reached down to stroke its smooth, rubbery skin.

"They are hungry tonight," you remarked, your fingers tracing the glowing patterns on the ilu's flank. "And very demanding."

Tsireya smiled, her eyes crinkling with warmth. "They know who has the best spirit, ma tsmuke. They can feel that you are at rest today."

But as the words left her lips, her gaze drifted past you, toward the pale curve of the shoreline. Her expression shifted—a mischievous, knowing glint entering her eyes that made your heart do a sudden, unprompted hop. "It seems we are not the only ones drawn to the water tonight," she murmured, her voice dropping into a conspiratorial tone.

You followed her gaze, squinting against the blinding gold of the setting sun. There, standing at the edge of the tide where the sand met the surf, was Aonung.

He looked different than he had in the weavers' pavilion or during the frantic races on the reef. Gone was the loud-mouthed warrior, replaced by someone who looked uncharacteristically hesitant. He was standing perfectly still, his hands tucked behind his back, his tail giving a sharp, rhythmic flick that betrayed his internal nerves. He was watching you—not with his usual smirk, but with an intensity that felt heavy, even from a distance.

He seemed to be contemplating his next move, caught in a moment of rare indecision. From where you stood, you couldn't see the sweat on his palms or the way his heart was hammering against his ribs, but you could see the way he looked at you. To Aonung, you were the center of the world. The golden light caught the curve of your neck, the wild tumble of your hair, and the way your woven top rested perfectly against your skin. You were a vision of everything he had been working toward for weeks.

Tsireya, never one to let her brother suffer in silence, cupped her hands around her mouth. "Aonung! Are you waiting for the tide to go out, or are you going to join us?"

The shout broke his trance. You saw him jump slightly, his ears pinning back in a flash of visible panic. He looked around as if hoping a rogue akula might appear to give him an excuse to leave, but when he realized he was trapped, he squared his shoulders. With a deep breath that expanded his broad chest, he began to wade out into the water.

His movements were slow, deliberate. As he drew closer, the water rippling around his strong legs, the playful chattering of the ilus seemed to fade into the background. There was a gravity to his approach that made the air feel thick.

"Tsireya," he said stiffly as he reached the two of you, offering his sister a curt nod. Then, his eyes locked onto yours, and the rest of the world simply ceased to exist for him. "Y/N."

Tsireya didn't miss the way his gaze lingered on your hair, or the way your own tail was twitching beneath the surface. She let out a soft, knowing giggle. "I believe the ilus by the marui’s are feeling neglected," she announced, already turning to swim away. "Do not be a bore, Aonung. Try to use your words."

She disappeared into the golden glare, leaving the two of you in a pocket of profound, charged silence. The water swirled between you, the rising heat of his body radiating through the cooling evening air.

"You look..." Aonung started, his voice cracking slightly. He cleared his throat, deepening it to regain his composure. "Your hair. It is different."

"I took the braids out," you said, feeling a sudden, shy heat rise in your cheeks. You reached up to brush a damp curl from your face. "Do you like it?"

"I... yes. very much," he breathed, his eyes traveling over every feature of your face.

The moment felt fragile, like a piece of spun glass. Aonung took a half-step closer, his large frame towering over you, blocking out the sun and surrounding you in his shadow. He reached into the small pouch at his waist, his movements slow and reverent.

"I have been thinking," he began, his voice dropping into a low, gravelly rumble that vibrated in your chest. "I have been courting you for a while now. It has been... a process. But I think I am finally ready to present you with this."

He held out his hand. Lying across his broad, calloused palm was the necklace he had labored over in the pavilion.

In the dying light of the sun, it was breathtaking. The green woven kelp-leather was vibrant and rich, a testament to the patience you had taught him. At the center hung the reef bird talon, polished until it gleamed like a piece of dark glass, a perfect mirror to the one he wore himself. But it was the additions that made your breath catch—trailing along the weave were small, blue teardrop pearls. They were the exact shade of the pearls you wore in your hair, shimmering with an iridescent light that spoke of the deep ocean.

"Aonung," you whispered, your fingers ghosting over the talon. "It’s beautiful. It’s perfect."

"I wanted it to be right," he said, his ears perking up at your praise. "I wanted it to match you. To show that I see you."

You were staring at the intricate knots, moved beyond words, but then his earlier phrasing finally clicked in your mind. You looked up at him, your brow furrowing in genuine, sweet confusion. "Wait... what did you just say?"

Aonung blinked, his confident posture wavering. "I said I wanted it to match you?"

"No, before that," you said, your head tilting to the side. "The part about... courting?"

Aonung’s ears did a slow, dramatic droop. His mouth fell open, and for a moment, he looked entirely lost. "Yes. Courting. The gifts? The rare shells from the trench? The racing every afternoon? The fact that I have sat through three weaver's circles just to be near you?"

You blinked back at him, your mind racing through the memories of the past weeks. To you, it had been a series of fun, increasingly close moments with a friend who was finally softening. "I thought you were just... being helpful? I thought we were becoming very, very good friends, Aonung."

Aonung looked like he wanted to throw himself into the surf. He groaned, a long, dramatic sound of exasperation, and threw his hands up in the air. "Very good friends? Y/N, that was courting. My presence at your side every waking hour for the past fourteen sun-cycles just to be very good friends?"

He paced a small, frustrated circle in the waist-deep water, his tail splashing the surface. "Did you think I was doing that for Lo'ak? You truly didn't know? After everything?"

The heat in your face was now a full, violet flush. Looking back at the intensity in his eyes, the way he always stood a little too close, the way he had essentially become your shadow—it was so blindingly obvious that you felt like a fool.

"Well... now that I think about it," you murmured, a sheepish, radiant smile spreading across your lips. "I guess it was a bit more than 'friendly' behavior."

Aonung stopped his pacing and looked at you, his frustration melting into a look of pure, helpless affection. ""I am courting a girl who is as blind as a cave-fish," he muttered to himself, though the corner of his mouth was twitching.

"I'm sorry!" you giggled, stepping into his space until your chests were nearly touching. "But I accept. The gift... and the suitor."

Aonung’s breath hitched. "I see you, Y/N"

"I see you, Aonung"

You took the necklace from his hand, the weight of it a physical promise. You moved closer, stepping up onto your tippy-toes in the swirling water to reach him. You wrapped your arms around his thick neck, burying your face in the crook of his shoulder. Aonung didn't hesitate this time; his large arms surged around you, pulling you flush against his warm, damp skin. He held you with a strength that made you feel entirely safe, his heart hammering a frantic, joyous rhythm against your own.

In the distance, Tsireya watched from the sully Marui with lo’ak, her heart full as she saw the two of you silhouetted against the last sliver of the sun. It was done.

You pulled back just enough to look at him. "Will you help me put it on?"

Aonung’s hands were trembling as he took the leather cord. You turned around, lifting the heavy, curly mass of your hair to expose the nape of your neck. You felt the cool touch of the pearls against your skin, and then the feather-light, reverent brush of his fingers as he secured the clasp.

When you turned back to face him, the necklace sat perfectly against your collarbone, the blue pearls glowing in the twilight. Aonung reached out, his thumb grazing your jawline, his gaze darkening with a sudden, heavy intensity.

"Y/N," he breathed, his hand sliding into the curls at the back of your head to pull you closer.

You didn't wait for him to ask. You leaned in, closing the distance, and then his lips were on yours.

The kiss was everything the last few weeks had been—intense, sweet, and deep like the ocean. It tasted of salt and the warmth of the sun. Aonung groaned low in his throat, his other hand splaying across your back to hold you as if he’d never let go. You melted into him, your fingers tangling in his hair, the world around you dissolving into nothing but the feel of him and the pulse of the tide.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead stayed against yours. He was breathless, a triumphant, vulnerable smile on his face. "Now," he whispered. "Do you still think we are just 'very good friends'?"

"I have you," he murmured, his large, calloused hands steadying your waist. His brow was furrowed, eyes searching your face with a mix of irritation and deep-seated worry. "You are clumsy today. Even for you."

"I am just tired, Aonung," you breathed, leaning into his cool chest. The scent of salt and the familiar musk of his skin usually calmed you, but now, the world was spinning.

He lifted you easily, ignoring the giggles of the children nearby, and carried you toward the shade of your family’s marui. As he laid you down on the soft woven mats, the smell of the drying fish outside hit you. Usually, it was the smell of home. Today, it was a threat.

Days later, he found you draped over a sun-warmed rock near the shallow reefs, your spear lying forgotten in the sand while the other hunters were already halfway to the drop-off.

"The fish will not jump into your lap, pretty girl," Aonung said, though his tone lacked its usual competitive edge. He swam closer, hoisting himself up onto the rock beside you. "My father is asking why the best tracker in the village is currently napping like a forest-slug."

You didn't even open your eyes. You just groaned, shifting your weight. "The rock is warm. The sun is perfect. Tell your father the fish can wait for one day."

Aonung frowned, reaching out to touch your neck. You weren't hot—your skin was cool and damp from the spray—but there was a softness to your features he hadn't seen before.

"You are lazy, yawne" he murmured, poking your side. "Even Lo'ak works harder than this today."

You finally opened one eye, giving him a look so withered it should have scorched him. "If you poke me again, I will bite your hand off."

-

You loved the way the sun turned the ocean into a sheet of shattered diamonds, but now, the glare made your head throb with a rhythmic, dull ache.

Aonung was watching you, his playful smirk slowly dying as he saw the way you swayed. He’d been teasing you for your "laziness", but as you sat on the edge of the sun-bleached rock, he saw your throat hitch. Your breathing became shallow, jagged, and your hands gripped the rough stone until your knuckles turned a ghostly white.

"Yawne," he said, his voice dropping the bravado. He swam closer, reaching up to pull himself onto the ledge. "Do you need me to call my mother? You look—"

He didn't get to finish.

A wave of violent nausea crashed over you, more aggressive than any tide. You barely had time to lurch toward the edge of the rock. It was a total betrayal of your body. You doubled over, racking tremors taking hold of your spine as you retched into the salt water below.

It was a raw, ugly sound that tore through the peaceful afternoon.

"What-" Aonung’s voice was laced with a sudden, sharp panic. He scrambled onto the rock, his large hands catching your shoulders just as your strength gave out. You felt so small against him, your body shivering violently in the heat.

"Aonung..." you choked out, your vision tunneling into black spots. The acid in your throat burned, and the sheer exhaustion of the last few days seemed to culminate in this one, agonizing moment. You felt terrifyingly sick.

He pulled you back against his chest. His tail was thrashing the water behind him in a frantic rhythm, a clear sign of his rising fear.

"I have you. Breathe, ma'Y/N," He wiped the sweat from your brow with a trembling hand, his eyes wide as he searched your pale face. "Eywa, why are you like this?"

He was genuinely terrified, watching the person he loved most slip away into a sickness he couldn't fight.

"It’s... it’s okay," you whispered, leaning your head into the crook of his neck. The violent nausea had stopped, leaving you hollowed out and trembling.

"It is not okay," he hissed, his grip tightening as if he could hold the life inside you by sheer force of will. "I am taking you to my mother."

-

The examination was brief. A few quiet chants, the steady pressure of Ronal’s hands over your abdomen, and then a knowing, sharp smile.

"The sea has planted a seed," Ronal announced, her voice echoing in the quiet space. "You are not ill. Well, you are, but you are simply carrying a new heavy burden of life. Rest. Eat what the body asks for. The nausea will pass when the moon turns."

-

The walk back to your own marui was silent, but the air between you and Aonung felt charged, like the moments before a great storm. He didn't say a word until you were both inside, tucked away from the prying eyes of the village.

You collapsed onto your sleeping mats, you felt heavy and strangely content. Aonung stood over you for a moment, looking uncharacteristically lost.

"Aonung?" you murmured, reaching out for him.

He moved closer, his tail wrapping around your thigh in a subconscious tether. He kissed you softly and then, tentatively, he reached out your belly. He hesitated for a heartbeat, his fingers hovering over the soft curve of your stomach, before he finally pressed his palm flat against you.

His hand was massive, covering nearly the entirety of your belly. It was warm as he touched you, as light as sea foam.

Aonung leaned down, his face inches from your skin. You watched with a soft smile as his ears flickered nervously.

"Listen to me, little one," he murmured, his voice dropping into a low, vibrating rumble that you could feel deep in your bones. "I am your father. You are already causing a great deal of trouble for your mother, making her lay in rocks, causing nausea and even eat bitter things."

You let out a breathy laugh, your eyes watering with happy tears as his thumb traced a slow circle over your skin.

"Grow strong," he continued, his tone turning fierce and protective. "The reef is waiting for you. The Tulkun are waiting. And I... I am waiting. Do not rush, but know that when you arrive, you will have the fastest ilu and the sharpest spear in the clan. I will make sure of it."

He pressed a lingering kiss to your stomach, his breath warm against you, before looking up at you with eyes that shone like the bioluminescent sea.

"You are carrying our child, a hunter/diver," he murmured and smiled at you, his grip tightening just a fraction—enough to let you know he was never letting go.

"I think they will have your eyes," he whispered kissing your temple, "And my stubbornness. May Eywa have mercy on us both."

-

Aonung’s plan was simple: keep the news quiet until the next full moon. He wanted to savor the secret, to protect you from the inevitable chaos of the clan’s excitement.

But Aonung was never particularly good at keeping his internal world off his face.

The "squad"—Rotxo, Tsireya, and even Lo’ak—were gathered by the communal fire-pits, sharpening their hunting daggers. You were sitting a few paces back, leaning against a woven pillar, currently focused on a bowl of a strangely bitter seeds Aonung had scavenged for you.

"Aonung, you’re sharpening the back of the blade," Rotxo remarked, squinting at his friend. "Are you planning to club the fish to death?"

Aonung snapped out of his trance, his ears flattening. "I am focused. You talk too much."

"You’ve been staring at Y/N for twenty minutes," Lo’ak added with a smirk, nudging Rotxo. "And she’s just sitting there eating... are those dye-nuts? Those taste like dirt."

Aonung’s tail gave a sharp, defensive flick against the sand. "She can eat whatever she wants. They are high in... minerals. For the spirit."

Tsireya looked between you and her brother, her head tilting with that innate Metkayina intuition. "You are acting strange, brother. You didn't even join the race today. You said you had to 'check the stability' of your marui’s floorboards?"

"The wood looked soft!" Aonung defended, his voice going up a suspicious half-octave. "It is important. If the floor breaks, someone could fall. Someone... heavy. Or someone who needs to be held up."

He looked at you, his gaze lingering on your stomach with such intense, blatant longing that Rotxo actually dropped his whetstone.

"Aonung," Rotxo said slowly, a grin spreading across his face. "Why are you looking at her like she’s a sacred Tulkun?"

"I am not! I am just..." Aonung scrambled for an excuse, his face heating up to a deep shade of teal. "I am ensuring she is breathing correctly."

"She’s been breathing for years, man," Lo'ak laughed. "I think she’s got it down."

You caught Aonung’s eye and gave a tiny, mischievous nod. You knew he couldn't hold it in. He was vibrating with the need to brag, to claim this new title.

Aonung took a deep breath, puffing out his chest. He tried to look stoic, but the corners of his mouth kept twitching upward.

"If you must know," he began, his voice dropping into a performative future-leader bass, "I have decided that Y/N requires extra monitoring because she is currently... busy."

"Busy doing what?" Rotxo asked.

"Carrying a future Olo'eyktan... Or Tsahìk" Aonung blurted out.

The silence that followed was broken only by the crackle of the fire. Then, Tsireya let out a high-pitched squeal, leaping to her feet to rush toward you.

"A baby?" she cried, her eyes shimmering. "I am going to be an aunt?"

"Wait, for real?" Lo'ak blinked, looking impressed. "Aonung, you're gonna be a dad? You can barely handle a stubborn ilu."

"I will be a great father!" Aonung said dramatically. He stepped in front of you like a shield, his hand instinctively reaching back to hover near your knee. "She needs more seeds. Rotxo, go find more of those bitter seeds. Now."

As the group erupted into questions and cheers, Aonung leaned down toward you, ignoring the boys' teasing. He whispered just for you, his tail winding tightly around your own in the shadows.

"So much for a secret," he murmured, his eyes glowing with pride. "But they already know our little one is going to be the strongest of the reef."

He reached out, his thumb quickly brushing over the fabric covering your stomach and he kissed you, already acting like a overprotective father-to-be.

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