#tarsem angst

“They are fine! Your dad was not even going to tell you. It is not a big deal,” he explained in vain, but it did not slow your roll. 

He knew the pregnancy hormones coursing through you would more than likely send you on a rampage when you found out your siblings had been momentarily kidnapped by the RDA. But he also knew that those same hormones would likely lead you to behead him if he kept it a secret and you found out through other means.

“Do not patronize me!” you ordered, “I am pregnant, not incompetent. I am going to see them for myself.” Tarsem winced at his headstrong mate but followed after you.

You stalked up to your parents kelku (home), stopping outside when you saw your siblings huddled by the gape in the woven material. “What did you skxawngs (idiots) do?” You demanded quietly. 

You loved them well enough to not ruin their spying, especially since you were the one who taught them how to do it in the first place. Tarsem stopped behind you, hand coming to rest on your back as your siblings flinched at being caught.

Four sets of eyes slowly turned to you and you saw varying looks of horror on their faces. 

“Sister!” Tuk smiled, running up to you and wrapping an arm around your hips, you hugged her back, smoothing her hair down as your other siblings started squabbling.

“It was Lo’ak’s fault,” Kiri exclaimed quietly, pointing her finger at your youngest brother.

“I was not even there until we saved them,” Neteyam defended himself, raising two hands 

“Why does it always have to be my fault?” Lo’ak complained, and Kiri rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Because it IS always your fault,” she replied.

“I was following them,” Tuk said softly up at you as the other three continued to fight.

“Enough,” Tarsem demanded firmly but still gently, making your eyebrows raise at his command over the situation.

All your siblings shut up and turned to their brother in law. “What matters is that you are safe. Do not stress your sister out,” he instructed and your siblings deflated. 

Tuk stepped back as Neteyam approached. “Sorry, y/n,” he mumbled, walking up to you and wrapping his arms around your shoulders, coming in for an embrace. He had to avoid your protruding belly, but you pulled him close.

“Yeah, sorry,” Lo’ak agreed, following Neteyam’s lead and joining the hug on the other side. 

“Do not apologize, just be careful next time,” you muttered, hugging your brothers tightly and boxing their ears when they pulled away from you.

“Now, are we going to spy on them or not?” Kiri asked with a sigh, not being one for big shows of emotion.

“Right,” Lo’ak agreed, crouching back on the floor to hear better and your other siblings followed.

“I cannot get down there, I will have to do it the old fashioned way,” you grunted, letting go of Tuk to walk up right next to the opening of the kelku. Your parents were still arguing, so they were too involved in the fight to notice that your and your siblings were up to no good.

“I cannot. You cannot ask this. I cannot leave my people. I will not,” your mother cried.

Another voice cut through, “He's hunting us. He's targeting our family.” Your dad’s voice was angry and scared, something you had been hearing more of lately. 

“You cannot ask this!” your mother exclaimed and your heart sank. What could your father possibly be asking her to do that would require her to leave?  “The children. Everything they've ever known. The forest. We would miss the birth of our grandchild, our oldest cannot leave with us. This is our home!” she screamed, voice breaking.

“He had our children. He had 'em under his knife!” your dad shot back, voice now strong but still emotional.

Your mother paused, “My father gave me this bow as he lay dying. And he said protect the People. You're Toruk Makto!” Neytiri reminded him and you could mentally picture the wince he wore whenever that name was mentioned. 

“This will protect the People! Quaritch has Spider and that kid knows everything. He knows our whole operation, and he can lead them right in here,” you sucked in a breath at the new information. You had wondered where the little human was, figuring he was just with the scientists, but the news that they captured the boy you considered another brother made you feel sick.

“If the People harbor us, they will die. Do you understand?” your dad pleaded. “Look, I got nothing. I got no plan… But I can protect this family. That I can do.”

You stepped forward then, making yourself known and both of your parents turned to you.

“You are leaving?” you asked numbly, a hand on your belly. Two shocked faces turned to look at you and the air left the room.

“Babygirl,” your dad started, stepping forward, but you stopped him by raising a hand. 

“Are you leaving?” you repeated, looking at your mom knowing she would bite the bullet to tell you easier than your dad would.

“Yes,” she admitted, voice breaking as a tear fell down her face.

Your face screwed up at the confirmation. “You are just gonna leave us here?” you asked, turning to your dad, “Run and hide? Let us fight the battle you started?” 

“No, we're taking the fight away from you. If I’m gone, then they won’t hit half as hard,” your dad promised.

You shook your head, “That’s not how this works. What happened to Sullys stick together, huh?” you asked as he stopped in front of you, arms reaching to hug you but you knocked them away. “I am a Sully. That does not sound  like sticking together to me.”

“Babygirl, please.” he begged as you shook your head. “Tarsem will be Olo’eyktan, you will have your baby here, where it’s safe. It's gonna be safe, because they’ll be looking for us everywhere else, okay? They won't find any Sullys here, because you can blend in. They don’t know about you like they do the other kids.”

“How does that make any of this better, dad? You’re still leaving me,” you blubbered, tears falling down your face as emotion and pregnancy hormones took hold of you.

You heard the entrance shift as Tarsem stepped through, beating your dad out to wrap his arms around you and hold you close. “Shhhh,” he muttered in your ear. “I’m here.”

“Did you know?” you asked your mate through your tears.

“No,” he assured you, “I would not keep this from you.” he promised and it eased your mind some at the words.

“Tarsem, you know this has to be done,” your dad pleaded with his son in law, but Tarsem did not respond directly to him like he hoped.

“She needs rest,” he simply said, not meeting either of your parent’s gazes.

Your dad paused, backing up a step. “Of course,” he said, swallowed in regret as his babygirl was ushered out. It still felt so strange to him that another man took care of you now. That you were Tarsem’s responsibility to care for and not his.

-

Later that evening, you and Tarsem operated in grieved silence. He did not want to crack your barely held composure, and you did not know how to express the well of hormonal emotions inside you. 

You had finished crying only a few minutes ago, and you had both decided not to join the others eating in the communal space. Tarsem had gone to collect Teylu for dinner only to find you crying again when he returned.

You had sniffled back your tears, and sat on the floor with effort as he handed you your food and sat across from you. You thanked him quietly and ate, if only for the baby’s sake.

He did the same, eating as he watched you carefully. Then he set down his leaf of Teylu, moving to sit beside you. “Talk to me, Yawnetu, what can I do to make this less painful,” he asked, not able to handle the quiet anymore.

You shook your head, lowering your hands. “Convince my dad to let them all stay?” you said, knowing it was impossible, but answering truthfully. That was the only thing that would have changed the emotions in your heart now.

He smiled sadly, “You ask too much of me. Eywa herself would have to stop him when he has his mind set to something.” he said, smoothing the hair from your face and watching with pity as you wallowed in melancholy.

“I know, but it was worth a shot,” you sighed.

You tossed and turned that night on the cushiony floor of your kelku, feeling more uncomfortable than usual. Tarsem’s arm was your pillow and he stirred every time you moved. 

A strong shot of pain moved up your abdomen and out through your body every few minutes and when you involuntarily clutched his chest in pain, Tarsem shot up. “What is it?” he asked, eyes searching yours for any sign that something was visually wrong. “Is it the baby?” he asked, hands moving to your stomach as the pain finally subsided and you heaved in air. 

“I think so,” You muttered, sweat forming on your brow. “I think it’s contractions. I’m in labor.” Water flowed down your legs and onto the floor and you both stared down at the puddle.

"Yes, I am definietly in labor," you gasped as he gripped your hands.

“Tsahey (ah hell),” he muttered, “I will get the Tsahìk, do not move,” he ordered.

 “I couldn't move very far even if I wanted to,” you grumbled, and he hesitated as if he did not want to just leave you there, but you both knew it was better to have help.

“Go, hurry!” you demanded, waving your hand, “I’m fine.”

He gave you one last wary glance before he ran off into the night, footsteps hitting high camps’ rock ground as he ran faster than he ever had before.

You breathed deeply, trying to manage your pain before another set of contractions hit you. You glanced to the side, spotting what you wanted, a braided, thin strap of leather hanging on your wall. You rolled over, moving as well as you were able and stumbling to your feet, your balance off kilter as your swollen belly threw your weight.

You made your way to the wall, pressing a hand against it for support and grabbed the piece of leather, slowly balancing as you hastily tied your hair up and out of your face. You slowly walked around, still using the wall as support, being on your feet felt a lot better than lying down. You slowly steeled your nerves in the brief reprieve.

Footsteps approached your home. “‘Itetsyìp!” Your mother called, scrambling into the kelku with grace as she flew to your side. Mo’at and Tarsem were on her trail, all three gathering around you. 

“Take this,” your grandmother instructed, handing you some herbs which you put in your mouth without question. Another round of contractions tore through you and Tarsem positioned himself behind you, pulling your head down onto his shoulder as you groaned in pain.

-

It was hours before you would give birth. A little girl with her mother’s stripes, her father’s eyes, her grandfather's nose, and her grandmother’s smile. A little girl you named Tsyaya (pronounced similarly to Zahya).

Your father had stood watch outside the kelku throughout the night, keeping an eye out for nosy neighbors and an ear out in case something was wrong. He paced in front of the door, back and forth, back and forth, until he finally heard a little cry.

He stilled, pausing as his grandchild took her first breaths. A smile spread across his face as she wailed inside. A mighty sounding roar. 

Neytiri stepped out a moment later, watching his face with mixed emotions. She knew this would be all the time they would get to spend with their little Tsyaya before they had to leave. Such precious little time. They barely got to even say hello.

“Your granddaughter is ready to meet you,” she said lowly.

He looked intently at his mate, mouth pressing together in a line. “Is she…” he hesitated, not sure how to phrase his next words.

“Your daughter is fine, she just wants to see her Sempu (daddy),” Neytiri answered, knowing her husband’s meaning without him having to voice it. 

“Yeah, okay,” Jake nodded, steeling his nerves similarly to the way you had and walking up beside his wife to face the inside of the kelku. 

His son-in-law sat on the floor holding a tiny blue body with one arm. Jake's eyes moved to you, laying on the floor beside Tarsem and holding his other hand. Both proud, new parents watched their baby with wonder. Mo’at moved about on her feet, praying to Ewya and blessing her great grandchild.

Your eyes moved to the door, “Dad?” you muttered the English word he had taught you all those years ago. 

“Hey, babygirl,” he choked out, entering the home and taking a seat on the other side of your body. 

“I just made a whole person,” you croaked, tears dripping down your eyes with emotion as you looked at your baby. 

“I helped,” Tarsem muttered, not looking over, eyes unable to be torn from his daughter.

Jake smiled at your words, ignoring Tarsem. “I know, I’m so proud of you. You did so good,” he praised, taking your hand and clasping it between his.

“Don’t leave me, daddy,” you cried harder, squeezing his hand. 

He shook his head, unable to find words for a second. “I’m so sorry, we don’t have a choice," he croaked. 

“Okay…” you said, reigning in your tears and looking at him with pleading eyes. “Then before you go, we want you to do one last thing as Olo’eyktan,” you said sniffling. 

In your eyes he suddenly saw the same little girl who had once sat on his knee and cried in his arms. The little girl he was leaving behind.

“Anything,” he agreed.

-

Jake walked through the crowd holding little Tsyaya as you and Tarsem followed behind him. 

Today would be his grandchild’s introduction to the clan as well as the day he passed his mantle to Tarsem. His chest was tight, full of emotions he was desperately trying to repress. 

Mo’at waited in the middle of the clearing as her family approached, the village stood circled around her holding hands. Already wearing their traveling clothes, Neteyam, Kiri, Lo’ak, and Tuk clasped joined hands at the front of the circle. You started crying as you saw your siblings, knowing it could be a while before you saw them again. 

You and Tarsem stopped, joining hands with the people as Neytiri wrapped her arm around you, holding you close. This was a celebration as much as it was a goodbye. 

“It is with happy hearts that Tarsem te Kumon Arun'itan and his mate, Y/N te Suli Neytiri’ite, announce the birth of their daughter to the people,” Jake announced, propping the cooing baby on his forearm before he held her up to the Pandoran sky.

“Tsyaya!” he called out, and the people repeated it, breaking into a prayer led by Mo’at for the baby's health and happiness. 

You gripped Tarsem’s hand, looking at him with eyes mixed with both joy and sorrow. Today would change everything. When he became Olo’eyktan, his responsibilities would change and as a father, nothing was the same. His whole life was getting upheaved in one swift movement. 

And you, your family would be gone by tonight. You would have to raise your baby without your mother’s steady hand and without your father’s laughter. Your siblings would not get to play the role of uncles and aunts until they returned, if they returned. 

“It will be okay,” Tarsem murmured as chants rose around you and tears fell. He always had the ability to read your mind.

“I know, just… don’t ever leave me, okay?” you asked.

His eyes softened, pulling you in so that your head rested on his shoulder. “Never. I couldn't if I tried.”

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Night had fallen long ago, but still you remained where you were, waiting.

Your hands were drawn up toward your chest as you held them with your arms and you looked out ahead, the glow of the Great Mother's creation consoling you in the unfamiliar loneliness you hadn't expected to feel.

Tarsem had told you to meet him there.

Hours ago.

He was never late.

He was always early.

You weren't sure why you had even waited. In your usual impatience, you would have just went looking for him after the first hour.

Truthfully, you didn't want to admit that you had hoped, felt stupid for expecting something out of him, for the question to be asked that always hung in the air when you were with him, wholly unspoken in the midst of the intimacy that made its home between your souls.

It was the first time that he had told you he had planned something for the both of you, a gesture unlike him given your odd dynamic.

You and Tarsem were the most unlikely of friends.

While he was quiet, obedient and reserved, you were the exact opposite.

As children, you were inseparable, always roping him in with your antics and shenanigans. Even the elders around you could not grasp in their minds how someone could find such kinship with someone as boisterous and mischievous as you.

"Solay, here you are again telling poor Tarsem what to do!"

That was usually what would come out of their mouths when they would find you in your usual stance, dragging him by the hand doing things he otherwise would never do by himself.

Yet still, he followed you everywhere you went, hung on your every word, and honored your every command.

And one day, when he was waiting patiently for you outside of HomeTree, it was Mo'at who had asked him, "Are you too shy to tell Solay no?"

But he merely shook his head at her, smiling, "If I do not go with her, who will make sure she is safe?"

It was then that Mo'at and the other elders understood how he regarded you, how such a gentle, kind soul could be even gentler and even kinder to someone.

You even had to remind him, on many occasions, that you were not as delicate as he treated you to be, that you didn't need to be handled like a baby before her first communion with Eywa.

Yet, that was never how he saw you.

He knew you were strong. If anything, you were stronger than him in many ways.

It was because for Tarsem, you were the most precious thing in the world and although he was that gentle and kind soul, he would sooner burn it all to the ground than let the worst of existence ever touch you.

Everyone in the clan knew that when the day came for him to choose a mate, he had no desire picking any woman who wasn't you. He had wanted nothing more than to enjoy the simplest of happiness with you, to spend the rest of his days being yours, being the one by your side.

When that day had finally come, he had planned your courting gifts, gathering your favorite flowers and even making your favorite dish, he told you to meet him atop the waterfall you frequented not too far from HomeTree.

It was there that you both had made your own camp, crafting a makeshift shelter between two adjoining trees, overlooking the lush green of the Forest.

But those courting gifts never reached your hands and that question Tarsem wanted to ask you, a question you already had an answer for remained unspoken.

It was on that day that Jake had told Tarsem he would have to be the new Olo'eyktan.

It was a duty, an honor that he could not refuse.

He was proud to be a warrior, serving his clan, and helping ensure the safety of the Omaticaya people. It was the reason why Jake did not doubt that the People would be taken care of when he left the Forest.

But suddenly becoming Olo'eyktan had taken him away from fulfilling the duty he wanted for the person he cherished the most.

You.

.

Author's Note:

oel ngati kameie,

“Y/n,” he whispered, blinking into focus as he gazed at you up close for the first time in many weeks. His hand itched to reach up and clasp yours, or tame the wild look to your hair as he used to, but instead, he just stepped to the side, swallowing thickly as he cleared the way for you.

You nodded stiffly in thanks, eyes averting to the ground to avoid the intensity of his gaze as you passed. 

It had only been a short time since you had called off your courtship. When he was named Olo’eyktan (chief) of your village, it changed everything. 

Expectations for you and your courting had shifted entirely. You would not just be his mate, you would be expected to become Tsahik, a role you had no desire to fill. You were not blessed by the Great Mother with insight or interpretation, you struggled just to have the attention span to sit through prayers and ceremonies. 

Tarsem had tried to convince you to stay, begged you to reconsider, even cried for you to love him enough that it did not matter. But the problem was never love. 

It was your love for him that made you break it off. He needed a stronger partner, someone to help him lead the people. You were no one of special quality. 

Now, you had to fight off the regret clawing at your ribs and push off the self-hatred clouding your mind. You had to remind yourself that he was better off without you.

You slid past him quickly, it took effort not to spare him another glance over your shoulder. You picked your way to the river, careful to avoid roots that could trip you up. The foliage was thick around you, your path partially obscured, but you pressed on. You had traveled this way since you were a child.

Once arrived, you crouched by the bank, taking the first bucket in your hand and dipping it into the water, ensuring it was mostly full before grabbing the other bucket. Your attention was diverted as you watched a Lortsyal (shimmyfly) float just overhead, dancing over the water and looping up to zigzag across the air. 

You found yourself staring at the beautiful winged creature and smiling slightly at its freedom. You held the unfilled bucket in one hand and felt the water run through your fingertips with the other. Syaksyuk (Prolemuris) called to each other beyond the trees and the water made a calming, bubbling sound as it passed by.

Footsteps marred your otherwise peaceful moment and made you blink out of your trance, turning to see a man come through the path. Your jaw clenched and you stumbled to your feet immediately when you realized who it was.

He was called Vo’tem, and he was a hunter that was around your age. It was rumored that the spirit animal from his dream hunt was a palulukan, representing his fierce and unforgiving nature. 

He came down the path, his steps sure and his stride long. He smiled charmingly and your gut flipped.

“Y/n,” he called. 

You lowered the bucket back to the ground before straightening your posture. Your hand went to rest on your waist, inches away from pulling the knife that was slung over your chest. “Vo’tem,” you replied in greeting. 

He had a reputation among the Omatikaya of being a creep and being pushy. You had never been the victim to more than his heavy looks, but they had still made your skin crawl. You were unsure of why else he could have followed you here than to make you uncomfortable. “What are you doing here?” you asked directly and his head reared back in mock offense.

“Why else? I saw you coming down to get water and thought you might need help,” he explained, but the cocky way he said it left you feeling tense.

“I can carry them,” you said, eyes narrowing suspiciously. Tarsem had seen you carrying the buckets here, but he knew your strength and he knew better than to doubt you. There was no reason why you could not carry the two small buckets. 

“Let me,” he demanded, walking forward to take the bucket off of the ground. 

“I said I am fine,” you reminded him, not aggressively, but firmly. “Leave me, your help is not wanted.”

He stopped and looked at you. “Then maybe I could help you with some other things, maybe start with helping you loosen up a bit,” he said with a sneer. 

You unsheathed your knife and held it in front of you. “I think I would wind up teaching you more than you would teach me. Like what happens after I draw my knife,” you nearly growled and he laughed, a wide eyed and crazy expression on his face. 

The clopping sound of Pa’li (direhorse) hooves drew both of your attention away from the other as a mounted warrior galloped into the clearing. Tarsem pulled up beside you both, taking in the exchange with critical eyes before he dismounted.

You relaxed, lowering your knife, but still holding it tightly in your grasp. 

“What has happened here? I heard aggression in your voices,” Tarsem asked, looking between you before his eyes settled on Vo’tem as if assessing a threat. 

“Nothing, Olo’eyktan,” Vo’tem insisted, eyes wide as he stared at the chief. 

“A woman does not pull her knife for merely nothing,” he turned to you, “What happened?”

You pursed your lips, your resolve hardening as you glanced over to Vo’tey and then back to Tarsem.

“He said will not leave me alone, I told him to go but he will not,” you confessed. 

Tarsem’s head swiveled to Vo’tey, “did you bother this woman?”

“Olo’eyktan, I-” Vo’tey started, but stopped as his words stalled in his throat. 

“Yes or no?” Tarsem pressed and the other man buckled under the pressure, lying being so foreign in your culture. 

“Yes,” he admitted and your jaw clenched involuntarily. “I am sorry,” he added.

Tarsem’s brow lowered and he stepped closer into Vo’tey’s space. His Olo’eyktan mantle made his frame look wider and more imposing. “She is mine, this is known,” Tarsem said lowly. Your breath hitched at the words, cheeks flaming hot as Vo’tey’s eyes widened. 

“I knew she was your woman, my apologies. I did not realize you were still together,” he stammered and you felt somewhat satisfied to see him crumple under Tarsem’s gaze.

“She is under my protection, as is every woman in this clan. If I hear of you treating them in a way that would displease the Great Mother, you will be banished from this forest. Do you understand?” Tarsem nearly growled and Vo’tey paled, nodding shallowly. 

“Good, Go. Be gone from my sight,” he ordered and Vo’tey backed away before turning tail and disappearing back through the brush.

“I am not your woman,” you gritted, and Tarsem spun around to face you.

His head cocked at the challenge, “You are. In the sense that you will always have my heart, that I can never love another,” he said and hot nerve endings prickled across your skin. There would have been a time when you had longed to hear those words, but now, they made you afraid for him.

You had done too much, given up too much, just for him to not let you go.

You could not help but narrow your eyes and scoff. You did not want to be unkind to him, but it felt like the only way you could fathom to keep him completely at bay from creeping into your heart again. 

“If I have that much power over you, then it sounds more like you are my man,” you corrected him and his lip curled up on one side. The opposite reaction from what you were hoping for.

“If that is a preferable title to you, then I will not deny it,” he said and you rolled your eyes, scooping down to pick up the buckets, one full of water and the other still empty. 

“You are nothing to me now, Tarsem… but thank you for what you did,” you said, ignoring the way his face sobered at your words. 

“I will always protect you, Yawnetu. No matter your own feelings for me,” he swore and you blinked rapidly, pushing back tears that climbed up. 

You did not bother to fill the other bucket, ready to escape his intense gaze. You swallowed thickly and nodded, “Move on with someone new, Tarsem. Be happy. That is all that I can offer you,” you said, walking past him toward the tree line.

He turned to watch your retreating back. “I cannot be happy and move on from you. Only one can exist,” he called as you drew only farther and farther away from him.

You paused, using all your strength not to turn back, but said, “One day you will wake up and will not even remember my name. Until then, do not wait for me, I will not come,” you said with finality.

You walked again with swift steps back to the village, leaving Tarsem alone by the river. He wondered with a panging sadness how he could ever move on from his own heart that still beat inside his chest with a steady, life-giving rhythm.

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