vanillabaee

It had started with whispers. 

You heard what they said about you. They claimed that the distance growing between you and your husband was your fault. That in your grief and pain, you had pushed him and your children away to the point that he could no longer be around you. It could not be that Neteyam was laying dead in the reef far from his home. Or perhaps the war, or the impossible choices in front of you now because of it. It could not even be the weight of all you had lost slowly crushing you until you felt as if you could not breathe. 

No, according to them, this was all on you. 

The reality of it was that you did not like to think you and Jake were growing apart, and in most ways, you were not. In the middle of the night, when the children were asleep and the creatures sang to one another, he still held you like something precious and you still gripped onto him like he was your lifeline. He still always served you first at mealtimes and still checked over your weapons every morning without asking. He still smiled at you when Tuk laughed because he loved how you shared the same one. 

 It was more so that he needed space to figure out how to heal, and you respected his needs, even when they unknowingly hurt you. Jake threw himself into preparing for the next battle: gathering, training, sharpening. He was gone long days, sometimes he did not come back to your mauri until the stars had already been twinkling for hours. 

He would come back with cuts on his hands and damp hair, sometimes too exhausted to eat his meal. You would silently bandage his wounds, and he would kiss your cheek before heading to bed, but it would sting that he did not even spare you a thank you. He used to sing your praises every moment of the day. You used to find it endearing, if not slightly overbearing, but it was Jake and so you learned to love it, expect it even. Now he just gave you numb gratitude.

He was grieving, you told yourself. It would be expected for him to withdraw some, but you never feared that he would do it from you. You and he always drew closer in times of hardship. And as much as you tried to respect his ways, you reminded yourself that you were grieving too.

You had heard the others talking, it was hard not to. They noticed the way he disappeared during the day to scavenge the demon ship for metal. You watched him sail out each morning, stomach twisting at the unfounded fear of him not coming back. 

The women in the weaving circles whispered that he did not love you anymore, that the sight of you reminded him of Neteyam. They said with hushed breath, that you were not a good wife or a good mother, too consumed in grief to do what was needed for your family. You let them speak their words, maybe they held truth, but they were not worth the fight. 

Not until her. 

Kariam, a young woman whose parents now laid at the bottom of the reef with your son, all lost to the same battle. She was not known for her gentleness or kindness. In fact, others appreciated her straightforward nature and cunning way of thinking, as well as her beauty. Many sought her, but few earned her attention. She was a diver, going out into the sea to gather for the clan, a mighty role. 

She had started coming around Jake when she noticed the initial discord. She offered her condolences to him- not to you or the children- and offered to help his family in any way she could. 

You had watched Jake’s face when he first spoke to her; polite, but stiff. When his eyes stayed squarely on the net in his hands, other than a quick glance to see who was approaching, you felt secure that he did not look at her more than he had to.

When Ronal had approached you late one afternoon as you repaired your riding leathers with a hand on her stomach and a grim expression on her face, you knew something was wrong. 

You paused your hands. “Tsahik,” you nodded in greeting, waiting expectantly for her to speak. 

“I know there are many things that we do not agree on, but I come tonight as a friend,” she started. 

Stomach bile rose in your throat as you set your face into stone. “I appreciate that,” you replied. 

She pursed her lips before surveying the items around you as if biding time. Finally, she said, “The women talk of your husband. Many say he is handsome, but that is no offense, they say the same of mine,” she smiled knowingly, perhaps trying to break the tension. You did not offer a smile in return, too concerned with what she would say next. Jake’s looks were a point of pride that you would not let distract you.

She grimaced, “But they also say he is lonely, that he has found comfort in the diver, Kariam, and has begun courting her,” she said carefully. 

Her low tone of speaking did not soften the blow. Your hands loosened around the leather as you stood, dropping them to the woven floor. You had heard snippets of the rumors, but you had convinced yourself that you were making up fairytales, surely no one could be so cruel. Now you knew your instincts were right. They claimed that Toruk Makto had begun seeking a new woman, a prettier and younger one.

“Where is he?” you asked, calmly. Lo’ak came walking up the walkway with Tsireya, but you hardly saw him, eyes clouded with red. You had lost too much already, you would not lose your husband too.

Ronal sighed, “He is still out, he has not come back to shore.” 

“Then where is she?” you asked, your patience growing thin. Lo’ak’s steps quickened as he heard your tone of voice, he was familiar with the sound of rage in you. 

“Mom,” Lo’ak said, “What is happening?”

You held out a hand to silence him. “Where is she?” you asked again, ignoring your son. Your aim was too singular to answer him. 

Ronal shook her head as if she could not believe she was doing this. “On the beach,” she admitted. 

You nodded, checking that your knife was securely in place before you stepped over the discarded leathers and out of the hut. 

“Mom,” Lo’ak pleaded again, “What’s going on?”

You swiveled your gaze to the teens, Tsireya was clutching Lo’ak’s hand tightly as they both looked on in confusion and concern. “Everything is fine. Stay here, Lo’ak. Wait for your Kiri and Tuk to return from the marsh,” you instructed. 

With that, you stalked out of the mauri. A healing cut on your leg from the battle two weeks prior stung as you walked, as if your blood was heating up and causing it to burn. The sand was rough against your feet, grating in a way the plush grass of the forest never would. 

When you saw her, her head was tipped back in laughter, amused by what one of the two friends around her said. 

“Kariam!” you called across the beach, still advancing towards her. Her head swung to see who was coming and she grimaced when she saw it was you. “You wanted to earn my husband's attention by your foul words, but you have earned my disdain instead,” you said, coming to a stop a few feet from her seated form. 

Her friends sobered at the sight of you, but Kariam did not stand. She smugly stared up at you as you took a wide-legged stance in the sand.

“I do not know of what you speak, Omatikaya,” she sneered, the twist of her lips giving you the idea that she knew precisely what you were talking about. 

You stepped over the log she was perched on, walking to the fire they had burning and standing in front of her. “I think you do,” you smiled, although it had no humor in it. “Stay away from my mate,” you growled.

“If Jake has grown bored of you, that is none of my business," she smiled.

Your brow rose at her cocky accusation. “I think you are jealous of me,” you decided. 

“Of you?” she huffed out a laugh, but you did not let it hurt your feelings. 

You leaned towards her, your hair falling forward. The light from the fire made your gold eyes look red as you said, “Because after everything you have going for you, it is still me he comes home to hold at night. It is me that he loves. He does not even know your name, girl.”

She hissed, eyes wide in anger. Those were finally the words to break her confident exterior. “He has sought me out, he confides in me,” she claimed, although you did not believe her. Jake simply did not have the time or emotional stamina for it currently.

You ground your teeth, setting your anger to the side. “I know you have experienced loss from this war, Kariam, and that is why you are still able to walk, but do not provoke a grieving mother. I do not care if you are the last of your name, I will protect what is left of my family,” you warned, starting to leave, but she rose to her feet as well. 

You cocked your head, surprised that she would dare to stand against you. 

“Kariam,” one of her friends warned, watching the two of you warily. 

She ignored her friend. “You neglect him, he no longer feels love for you. The bond has been broken, do you not see what is plain to everyone else?” 

“Do you not see that I have the ability to rip your eyes from your head and that I will care little for your suffering?” you asked, mocking the inflection of her tone and making her jaw clench.

“Do you threaten me?” she asked, stepping forward and around the fire. A brief few feet of sand was all that separated you now. 

You smiled, white teeth glinting in the dying light. “I threaten you. Do not speak of my husband again, Metkayina.”

She hissed, “And if I do not heed your warnings?” she asked. 

“Then I would rather handle this here and now,” you replied, 

“Then I challenge you to a fight of combat, Wife of Toruk Makto. The winner will have claim over Jake Sully,” Kariam proposed.

You barked out a laugh, “You cannot bargain what is not yours. Jake would not allow you to claim him if you were the last woman on Pandora. No, this is over honor, and the offenses you have committed against me,” you corrected. “Jake is mine regardless.”

The glare on her face was intense enough to crack stone. “You do not agree to my terms because you are afraid of who he would go to if given the choice. I see the way he looks at me,” she smirked. She was poisonous. 

“Kariam,” you stated her name plainly, squaring your shoulders in a way that meant you were serious. “He has put three children in me. We have raised four together. A look does not mean he wants you. He looks at his enemies before he slaughters them, does that equate to love or attraction?”

Her nostrils flared. “Very well,” she gritted out. “Over honor then.”

You nodded, assessing her form and the way she moved. “Do you have a knife?” you asked, not finding one on her from your glance over.

“I do not need one to take you down,” she smirked. “Forest folk do not have the skills we are trained in since birth. You cannot fight as we do.”

“No, we do not,” you agreed, unsheathing your knife. You enjoyed the way she wearily watched your hand, but you just flicked it into the sand several feet away. You would fight unarmed, just like she was. “We fight better.”

And with those words, you leapt into action. 

You pushed at her with enough force to have her stumbling back in the sand. She looked up, blue eyes glowing against the night sky. She came at you, aiming to push back you, but you were ready.

You grabbed her shoulders, using her own momentum to move her forward into your knee which you brought up and directed right at her gut. She grunted at the impact and you balled your fist, drawing it back as Jake had taught you, and hit her on the cheek so hard that her head reeled back and she stumbled. 

You surged forward again, not letting her recover before you pushed her to the ground, getting on top of her as you placed your hands around her throat, squeezing enough to make her panic, but not enough to suffocate her.

You screamed from the back of your throat, half from the adrenaline and half from frustration. You wished you had the strength to pick this woman up and throw her across the ocean where she could no longer slander your family or even so much as look at your husband again.

You know how you looked to her friends. A murderous killer who was targeting their friend, but the two cowards hung back, clutching each other in fear as they watched wide eyed. They should be afraid. The rage you felt in you was a broken, aching and jagged thing. It was grief and it was pain and it had found a target. 

“Shit,” a familiar, masculine voice hissed. A voice you would recognize anywhere, but one who would not deter you from your mission. 

“Get out of here, go,” Jake ordered, waving the two friends of Kariam’s back to the village. They linked hands and fled back to the mauris. They were abandoning their friend to undoubtedly tell every soul with a listening ear what they had seen.

“Baby, get off ‘er,” Jake directed, but you did not pay him any mind. You hissed as Kariam’s nails dug into your wrist where you held her down by her throat. 

Thick hands grasped your hips, pulling you away from your victim with strength that only your mate possessed. You hissed in frustration, unable to stop him. Jake heaved you back into him, pinning your arms to your chest and holding them there with one hand as his other arm wrapped around the front of your shoulders. 

You wriggled in his grasp, but at the feel of his breath on your ear, you faltered, breathing in deeply and looking down at where Kariam was still laying in the sand. Her hand was gingerly around her neck as she looked up, shocked at your husband’s appearance. 

“Let me go, Jake. She must pay,” you hissed. 

“Sorry, baby, can’t do that,” Jake said from over your shoulder, “What’d she do?”

You pursed your lips, hating to tell him, but seeing no way around it. “She is telling the clan lies about us. She aims to tear us apart so she can have you for herself.”

Kariam’s face turned a shade of teal as she blushed at her antics being outed to Jake. Speaking of him to others was one thing, but having him in front of her and hearing her lies in person was another thing entirely. The fire illuminated an already blooming red mark across her cheekbone and you felt a flicker of pride at the mark you had made.

“Like what? What did she say, Baby?” he asked, his hair tickling your neck. Kariam stumbled to her feet, brushing off the sand on her as she watched Jake hold you. Thinly veiled jealousy was evident on her face when Jake asked your side and not hers.

“That you do not love me anymore and that it is my fault. She says your attention is on her now,” you explained. 

“What? No, only you, sweetheart,” Jake assured you sweetly, “You didn't believe it, did you?” 

You shook your head, before pressing the back of it into Jake’s shoulder. The stars winked down at you from above as if this was all some trick they played on you. “No,” you promised. 

Jake sucked in air through his nose, his chest rising against your back. He turned to her, making you look back down to watch the interrogation. “What’s your name again?” he asked Kariam. The look of shock on her face was enough to lift your spirits. 

“Kariam,” she answered. “We have met before.”

"We have?” Jake asked, cocking his head. “I don't remember.”

“After the passing of your son, we spoke several times,” she insisted, but Jake just shook his head. 

“Maybe, but I still don't understand. Why’d you say those things about someone you don't even know? What am I to you?”

Kariam opened her mouth as if to respond, but no words came out. Her eyes flitted to you and for the first time since this all began, you felt the smallest amount of pity for her.

“You are Toruk Makto,” you answered for her. “And she is no one, except a sad, lonely girl who delights in making others’ miserable.”

Kariam’s eyes flashed with pain and rage, finally emerging form under the layers of forced bravado. “Kali'weya (bitch),” she spat, stepping closer to you. 

You hissed in response as Jake twisted, depositing you halfway behind him to act as a shield between the two of you. 

“Remember, that’s my mate you’re talking to,” Jake warned, his face hardening into something terrifying to be on the receiving end of. “I think it’s time you left.”

“This is my village, you cannot tell me what to-”

“Go!” Jake barked, evidently growing impatient with her. “Tonowari will deal with you in the morning, I’ll make sure of it,” he promised. 

Her lips pursed as her eyes narrowed, a scowl plain as day on her face. She cursed under her breath before slowly moving back towards the warm fires of the village. 

“You hurt?” Jake asked, placing one hand on your hip and the other on your face. You were now chest to chest and the gentle proximity was heaven after everything that happened tonight.

“No,” you promised, “she barely even landed a hit.”

He nodded, satisfied that you were alright. “Why are you fighting her? Don’t you know I'd never even look at another woman? Lay it out for me,” he requested, his hand moving to cup the back of your neck, his thumb gently pressing into the soft skin behind your ear.

“Ronal came to me. She told me that Kariam had been telling the village that you were interested in her, and when Ronal told me that you were still out at the demon ship, I figured I would handle this myself. I went to talk to Kariam and she challenged me. What was I supposed to do?” you asked.

“You could have waited for me to come home. We could have handled it together. You didn't need to shoulder this alone,” he urged. 

“I am tired of waiting for you to come home,” you groaned, closing your eyes and squeezing them tight. “You are always away. That is half the reason so many whisper about us now,” you grumbled, not bothering to hide the pout on your face. 

Jake frowned, “Because I’m gathering weapons for the war we’re in the middle of.” 

“We just lost our son, our baby boy. He’s gone and the children need you here,” you pleaded. “The girls need a steady force around, someone to turn to. Lo’ak needs his father to tell him everything will be alright, I need to hear it too. I cannot sit in that marui silently preparing meals and mending things by myself another evening. I cannot be alone any longer, Jake. It just reminds me of everything we lost.”

Against your will, hot, angry tears escaped your eyes as the evening caught up with you. Finally being honest with your mate made the floodgates open.

Jake winced at the sight of you crying, his expressive eyebrows twisting in sorrow as he wiped your tears with his thumb before he pulled you to his chest. You wrapped your arms around his torso and let him guide your face into the crook of his neck, breathing in the scent of him. 

“I didn't know you were feeling that way. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Jake said. You could feel the vibration of his words against your cheek, and the feeling brought you comfort. “I was so worried about the next attack and deep in my own pain that I missed what was right in front of me. I’ll do better,” he desperately promised.

“I know that you need your solitude, that you like to work towards something while you grieve. I know you need something to do or else everything will catch up with you. This is hard, but do not leave us. I need you. We will help each other through this,” you begged, holding him even tighter. 

“I know,” Jake muttered soothingly as he ran a hand up and down your back. “I’m here now, I’ll do better,” he repeated. “I love you, none of what she said was true. I love you so much,” he assured you.

“I love you too. I am sorry I did not tell you what was happening,” you said, pulling away from him to look into his golden eyes. You wiped away the tears from your own as you said, “but I am not sorry that I got in that fight. She is a txanfwìngtu (loser),” smiling despite the heaviness in your heart. 

Jake lifted his eyebrows and chuckled, the deep rumble lifting your spirits. “I don’t doubt it.”

A snap of a limb made you both alert, picking your heads up to look toward the bushes from the inland where the sound had originated. When you began to take a step forward, Jake held out a hand, signaling for you to stay behind him. He drew his knife, and slowly moved in a low walk to the foliage. As you both drew closer, a blue hand shot out as if surrendering. It was the darker blue of your people on their skin, not the lighter Metkayina hue. 

“Lo’ak,” you realized, making Jake lower his knife as your son popped out of the brush. 

You and Jake wore matching glares as you watched your youngest son step away from the waist high foliage. “Hey, Mom,” he winced, “Hey, Dad.”

“What the hell are you doin’ in there, boy?” Jake asked with shocked intensity. His eyebrows were so high, they were halfway to his hairline.

“Uh, you know, just looking for shells,” Lo’ak explained nonchalantly, shrugging as if this was a normal evening activity for him.

“Looking for shells? In a bush?” you asked, disappointed in your son more for the poor attempt at a lie than whatever sneaking about he was actually doing. It was clear to you what he was really doing in there. “How much did you see?” you sighed.

He winced, “most of it,” he answered truthfully.

Your eyes widened as Jake’s narrowed into slits. “What were you thinkin’?” your husband barked.

You jumped in to chastise your son as well. “Lo'ak te Suli Tsyeyk'itan, I cannot begin to describe how much trouble you are in,” you fumed. Jake scoffed in agreement, shaking his head and looking up to the sky as if asking Eywa for strength.

Lo’ak held up his hands as if asking you both to calm down. “I wanted to make sure mom was alright. She came by herself and she was pretty angry,” Lo’ak rushed to say and you realized you were maybe a tad bit too quick to jump to conclusions.

You shook your head. “You do not have to worry about me. I am fine,” you assured him. 

“Oh, I know that now. You were pretty badass actually,” Lo’ak commented as he nodded. You looked at Jake who just leveled a gaze back that clearly said, ‘can’t argue with that’.

“Thank you, Lo’ak,” you said shortly, although you had a smug grin on your face from the compliment. “But unless you want to see me use my badass skills up close and personal, then I suggest you go back to the marui,” you warned, although it was all in jest and Lo’ak knew it. 

He smiled and nodded. “Sorry,” he muttered under his breath.

“We’ll meet you in a second,” Jake instructed, pointing up the beach and Lo’ak nodded, subdued, but not disheartened. 

You and Jake watched him walk back up the beach and as soon as he was out of earshot, a giggle escaped you. Jake looked over, mildly concerned about what you could be laughing about. But when you shook your head and let another laugh out, he started smiling too.

“Eywa! Jake, did you see his face when we caught him?” you asked through your laughter.

“He looked damn terrified,” Jake agreed. The light of Polyphemus caught on the ridges of his face, making him look otherworldly, and you supposed he was.

“Maybe that will teach him his lesson,” you fruitlessly hoped.

You and Jake exchanged another look before bursting into more giggles that carried all the way across the sand. Lo’ak turned around from his trek home to watch his parents dissolve into laughter and he wondered what they could possibly find so funny.

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It came on suddenly, a sickness beyond what you have ever felt before. It wasn't exactly debilitating, but it definitely slowed you down. Your symptoms began as a sluggish feeling in your bones; you assumed it was exhaustion from your travels. 

Then came the vomiting, the slightest smell that normally would not bother you, twisted your insides until you expelled the contents of your last meal. Beyond that, you did not have many other symptoms. The problem was that this sickness persisted longer than it should. 

Weeks had passed, and you still hadn't gotten better. So’lek was immensely worried, doing everything he could to help you, trying every remedy he could think of. This was all futile, as none of these methods seemed to work. 

You assured him you were fine, and this would pass. As much as he wanted to believe you, he could not. So, much to your chagrin, he decided to take you to the Aranahes tsahik, Asahe. 

The two of you had been in good relations with the Aranahe. He was hopeful that their tsahik would see you. You made the journey to Hometree, not without a string of complaints from you the entire way. He assured you that this was necessary, that after this, you would be better and things would go back to normal.

That was the farthest from the truth. 

-

Once you arrived at Hometree, So’lek, ever the gentleman, and also a dramatic, carried you to their tsahik. “Ma So’lek, I can walk, let me walk.” Exasperated, you attempted to wiggle out of his grasp, but he did not budge. 

“Yawne, you need not exhaust yourself even more.” He continued to carry you the entire way to the healing circle, not without a sly smirk on his face, one that only you could pick up on. 

Lying you down on the mats, he moved away just enough to take your hand in his, while also giving the tsahik room to work. She hummed as she examined you, and then abruptly paused, as if she had already figured out what troubled you. 

“Oh ma’ite, you are not ill,” She gave you a knowing smile, but you, however, did not know what she was trying to say. 

“She has been ill for weeks. How is there nothing wrong?” So’lek questioned her, slightly frustrated but more so confused. She smiled at him again, with a warmth that you could only see when great news is heard. 

“This is no sickness, you are with child.” Your heart skipped a beat at this; the world narrowed in focus. With child? How could this be? Although you had to admit, you and So’lek were not very careful, but you never thought this would happen. Not now, not when you two were still discovering your place without a clan. 

Asahes warm smile remained on her face, as if she could not see any reason this could be worrying news. Finally, snapping out of your trance, you looked up at So’lek. He had the same deadpan expression you wore, trying to make sense of what he just heard. 

“I will leave you now to discuss,” noticing your shock, Asahe left the room, leaving you and So’lek alone. 

After what felt like ages, the tension was clawing at your skin. “So’lek, please say something,” you pleaded with him. Finally, he snapped out of his daze, studying your face carefully, as he chose his next words. 

“We’re going to be parents.” There was no hint of distaste in his words, only disbelief. Tearfully, you nodded, tightening your grip on his hand that never let go. 

Looking down at your hand in his, then back up to your face, his free hand travelled to your stomach, carefully resting there. His face broke out into the most pure, real smile you had seen since before the war. 

“This is the greatest of news,” letting out a breathy laugh, you choked out your next words, tears flowing down your cheeks. “Are you not afraid, So’lek? This child will have no clan, what kind of life is that?” 

He only shook his head, “They will still be Trr’ong, we will share the stories of our clan, so that they will never forget where they came from.” 

He pressed his forehead to yours, breathing you in. Then, leaning down to press his lips to your not yet swollen stomach. 

“Nga yawne lu oer,” He spoke to not only you, but your growing child as well.

“Nga yawne lu oer,” you spoke back, lovingly running your hand through his hair. 

-

The months that followed were not easy, navigating pregnancy and travelling. You often stayed at camps longer now, giving you ample rest. Especially as your belly began to swell. 

Oh, did So’lek revel in the sight. It brought him great pride to see you swollen with his child. His chest filled with warmth whenever he saw you rest your hands on your bump, tenderly rubbing back and forth. 

At night, when it was just the two of you, he lay his head on your belly, speaking words of endearment to your child. 

“Your Sa’nu is a fierce warrior, even if she claims not to be; you are already so loved and protected, Ma’itan.” 

“What makes you think we are having a son, Ma yawntu?” 

He only smiled up at you, your head filling with fuzzy warmth. Oh, how you loved him. He was already an amazing, loving father. You could not wait to see him hold your child in his arms, whispering softly to him. 

“I just have a feeling,” he said, as if Eywa herself revealed to him that he would have a son.

“Well, we shall see if your feelings are correct.”

“Yes, we shall,” and with that, he laid his head back down, continuing to whisper to your child.  

-

It was nearing the child's arrival, and your belly had doubled in size. No longer could you travel; now you resided with the Aranahe while you waited. 

“What should we name him?” So’lek asked, looking at you carefully. He wanted to hear your ideas first.

You hummed in thought, hand resting on your belly. “Well, since you are so set on us having a son, I was thinking we name him Ikmay.” 

He smiled, laying a hand on your face, “Ikmay is a strong name.” 

With that, it was decided, now all you had to do was wait.

-

You did not have to wait long. Only three eclipses passed before the labor started. 

So’lek rushed you to the tsahik, trying to hide his anxiety, but he was failing. He sat behind you, his chest to your back, as you gripped his hand with crushing force.

He held back a wince, knowing that your pain was greater than his. 

He was there as you gasped in pain, cooing softly and speaking words of encouragement as you brought your child into the world.

“I do not know if I can do this,” exhausted, you lay your head against his shoulder. He placed a kiss on your hairline and wiped the sweat from your forehead with a wet cloth. 

“You are so strong yawne, you can do this. Just a little longer, and we will have our child in our arms.” 

This brought you back to reality, readying yourself for the next contraction. Gritting your teeth as you felt each wave of pain. 

“Push now, my child,” Asahe said as she knelt before you, ready to catch your baby as he came out. With one final, excruciating push, it was done. 

You fell limp against So’leks’ chest as soon as you heard the shrill cry of your baby, sobbing from the overwhelming emotions you were feeling. 

Ikmay, who was in fact a boy, was laid on your chest, and you made tsaheylu with him. Your breath came out in ragged spurts, still reeling from the pain you felt moments ago. 

That was all washed away once you bonded with your son. You wept as you felt his fuzzy mind, how it was filled with warmth and love for you, seeking the comfort of his mother's embrace. So’lek wept as well; he couldn't believe that he had a son, he was a father. 

He placed his hand on the back of Ikmay's head, rubbing his thumb softly back and forth. You tore your gaze from your son, looking up at So’lek. “We have a son,” he smiled back at you, “He is beautiful, he has a strong heart, like his Sa’nu. You were so strong, Ma yawntu.” 

The two of you sat like that for some time, soaking up every moment with your son. Hardly able to believe this was real, you were parents.

“Ma So’lek, hold your son,” you said as you handed him off. He carefully, with shaking hands, took him from you. More tears crept through his eyes as he felt his warmth, saw his tiny features; he looked so much like you. He held out his free hand to him, Ikmay grasping his finger with his tiny hands, barely able to wrap his fingers around one of his. 

You moved to help him make tsaheylu with him, and that is what finally broke So’lek. He wept harder as he bonded with his son, overwhelmed by the sheer love he felt for not only him, but you as well. 

You spent a while like this, sheltered in your own little world. Filled with love and admiration for the family you created. Together. 

-

Years had passed since then. You and So’lek welcomed two more children into your lives. Another son, Lew’eyn, and then a little girl, Yuwe. Both with strong spirits, just like Ikmay, just like you, and So’lek. 

Fifteen summers had passed since the birth of Ikmay, thirteen since Lew’eyn, and nine since Yuwe. You cherished the family you have created. Never once did you let them forget where they came from, their roots in the Trr’ong clan. 

Life was seemingly perfect. So’lek was an amazing father, soft, encouraging, and hard when he needed to be. 

Ikmay had grown into a strong young man and had already completed his Iknimaya. You could see his father's spirit in him; he will make a fine warrior. He was level-headed, responsible, and took care of his siblings. 

Your second son, Lew’eyn, was just as fierce. While he was still navigating his journey into becoming a man, he tried his best to prove himself to you and So’lek. You both saw his determination. While he may not have been as level-headed as Ikmay, he was still young, still learning. So’lek encouraged him endlessly, raising him to be strong. 

Yuwe, your sweet Yuwe, was timid, but just as strong. You saw yourself in her a great deal. She had a gentle spirit towards everything around her, but she also had the fire of her father's spirit. You knew she would grow to be just as strong as her brothers, with your and So’leks’ guidance. 

-

They were at the age where you could leave the children alone, with Ikmay. Often, you and So’lek would have ‘date nights’. Soaring through the sky on your ikrans, running through the forest just as you did when you were young, freshly mated, swimming in the lakes, splashing each other, laughing until your faces hurt. Moments like these made you feel young again, made you forget the troubles of your past. 

One night, everything changed.

You and So’lek were lying on the moss, high above the trees on the mountains, gazing up at the stars. You curled up next to him, laying your head on his chest, your knee curled up onto his lap. He gently stroked your head, occasionally planting gentle kisses there. How could anything ruin this? 

That question was answered when you noticed something up above. A star that seemed to be getting brighter and brighter. Until finally breaking through the atmosphere. You quickly realized what it was: a demon ship. 

It landed with force, burning everything around it. 

In absolute shock, you broke down in sobs, clinging to So’lek as he gripped you tight, grounding you. If you had seen the look on his face, it would have told you everything. Years of healing from the bitterness he felt towards the sky people, wasted in an instant. 

“We need to get back to the children,” his words came out rough, that familiar edge already made its way back into his voice. 

Agreeing, you gathered your things, calling your ikran. The flight back home was sorrowful; it felt as if a hole had been punched through your chest. So’lek remained silent, a hardened look on his face; it was as if he had reverted to who he was the first time the sky people were here. 

Once you made it back to your home, you ran to your children, falling to your knees as you held them in your arms.

“Sa’nu, what happened?” your youngest asked, trembling in fear as she looked up at you. So’lek remained by the entryway, staring at you and your children, while they looked to him for answers. 

He would not sugarcoat this; he would not lie to them. They deserved to know. So, he told them the truth. “The sky people have returned,” the words came out strained, as it burned him just to speak them. 

Your daughter gasped in fear, clutching you tighter. Ikmay stood, giving his father a look that you recognized, the same look So’lek had when the sky people first arrived many years ago. 

Right then, you knew your comfortable, happy life you had built was dead. Now your sons are forced to become warriors, and your daughter is clouded in fear. 

-

Shortly after, So’lek informed you of the resistance. A group led by sky people who shunned the RDA, who needed Na’vi allies to help them fight. While you did not trust sky people, and you were wary of the idea of bringing your children around them, you trusted your mate. So, you made the journey to Resistance HQ. 

They were ecstatic to have you join them. After all, not many Na’vi wanted to associate themselves with the likes of sky people. They were… Nice. Welcoming you quickly, and your children adjusted as well as they could. Ikmay was wary of them, just like his father. Lew’eyn adjusted rather well, making friends with some of the resistance members. Yuwe was shy at first, clinging to your leg, hiding behind you as you spoke to them. She slowly came out of her shell, often tagging behind Ikmay and Lew’eyn. At least she stopped clinging to you as much. 

It broke your heart to see what the sky people have done to your family. Never would you have thought your children would be exposed to this, to war, to ruin. The land they once knew, now desecrated, unsafe. 

So’lek took on his role with ease. After the return of the Sarentu, he became a mentor to them, guiding them as they learned how to navigate Pandora. Especially when being thrust into it in a time like this. 

Much to your dismay, he became harder on your sons. While still loving, the softness they once knew had dwindled. You understood, now it was more important than ever. So’lek was prepared to have Ikmay fight alongside the resistance. 

This did not go over well with you. You waited till after eclipse, after the children were asleep, to confront him. 

“He is young, So’lek,” you were angry with him; how could he suggest such a thing? How could he be so comfortable sending his son to fight the RDA?

“He is ready, yawne, he is strong,” he looked to you, a stern expression on his face. Clearly, he was not backing down. Your ears pinned, head bowed, tears clouding your vision. So’leks’ heart cracked at this; he knew he had upset you, he knew how afraid you were. The tension in the room was thick, fear and sadness masked by anger. 

So’lek strided towards you as you turned away, hand to your heart as you wept. Wrapping his arms around you, he rested his chin on your shoulder. “You have seen what they do, So’lek. I can not lose him, I will not.” 

“You will not lose him, yawne, he is capable, I know this. He will not be alone.” 

Your sniffles faded, composing yourself, you turned to face him. He rested his forehead against yours, “I know you are scared, as am I, but he can do this.” You nodded, accepting his words, even if they pained you. 

“You will protect him?” 

“With my life.”

-

That was the reassurance you gave yourself moving forward. Even when it broke you to see how war was hardening your son, just as it did to you and So’lek. You had to admit that So’lek was right. Ikmay was a fine warrior.

He did not rush; he was careful, calculated, just as he had been taught. Taking down RDA sites with ease, killing them before they even had time to think.

Your other children stayed safe. Lew’eyn was not ready to fight, even though he wanted to. He accepted it, knowing he needed to stay and protect his sister. He took on that role with ease. Whenever you went out to fight, he stayed behind, comforting Yuwe as she cried in fear, fear that you would not return. 

You did, you always returned to them. Even if you were injured, you returned. You and So’lek could not afford to lose your lives; your children needed you. 

With the Sarentu on your side, they worked tirelessly to gather the clans to fight alongside you. This was no easy task; the Aranahe were wary, already scared by the RDA after they killed Asahe, their tsahik. Etuwa stepped into her role quickly; she was more than willing to fight. 

Convincing the Zeswa was easier; they were more than happy to join the fight. Seeing how the sky people had destroyed the land, killing the zakru. That unleashed a fire within them. A fire that could only be extinguished once the RDA were destroyed. 

-

After gathering the Aranahe and the Zeswa, it was time to strike. Taking down Col Hardings extractor plant would be no easy task, but with their help, it would make it possible. 

You and So’lek readied yourselves for battle, applying your paints on each other. You savored this moment with him. You feared that every battle would be your last, that there was a possibility that one of you would not make it back. This fear was amplified as Ikmay was joining you. 

“Stay safe, Ma’itan, please come back to me,” you said, laying your hands on his shoulders, taking the sight of him in. He looked like a true warrior, adorned in paints and Na’vi armor. 

He nodded, pulling you in for a hug, “I promise, Sa’nu.” You grasped him for a moment longer, holding back tears. 

“It is time, we must fly.” You pulled away, going to ready your ikran. 

As you looked back at So’lek and your son one last time before flying off, all you could do was pray that Ewya would protect them. 

-

The battle was victorious, Col Hardings base destroyed. The Zeswa and the Aranahe celebrated loudly at camp, pleased with their achievements. 

You ran to Ikmay, embracing him hard. You reached for So’lek, bringing him towards you to join the embrace, thanking Ewya for returning them to you. 

Little did you know this moment of comfort would be cut short. 

-

The resistance is celebrating at HQ. Of course, we should celebrate; this was indeed a massive victory. Your children were happy to join the party. Yuwe laughed as she danced with Lew’eyn. Ikmay stood by his father as he talked with Nor. You made yourself busy, helping Teylan with setting things up, talking to other resistance members. 

You really were enjoying yourself. You even tried some of Jin-young's Na’vi dishes. While they were… interesting to say the least, you appreciated the effort. 

You went to find Teylan at some point, hoping to speak with him, but you could not find him. It appeared that all of the Sarentu had gone off on their own.

Everyone was having a good time. That was until everything went wrong. 

It happened so quickly, you didn't have time to think. Mercer knows where we are. You ran to So’lek, looking around for your children, but you could not see them. Everyone was panicking, scrambling to take cover as a blast shot through HQ. 

The screams are what horrified you, so many injured, some even dead. 

You and So’lek searched for your children. You found Yuwe cowering behind Lew’eyn. Both of them trembling and terrified. You felt a wave of relief that they were unharmed, but the unease in your chest still would not shake, not until you found Ikmay. 

You called out for him, but there was no response. 

“Did you see where Ikmay went?” You hurriedly asked Lew’eyn, starting to fear the worst. He only shook his head, afraid as well. 

Your fears were confirmed when So’lek called out to you, the edge on his voice could only be described as pure grief. Your blood ran cold, the world narrowed in focus. He has to be alive, he has to be. Your body moved before your mind did, rushing to So’leks side. What you found would forever be engraved in your memory. 

Ikmay, lifeless, motionless, on the ground. All life stripped from him. 

You collapsed, a guttural scream crawled its way out of your chest. So’lek caught you, holding on to you as you wailed. He thought that he was grounding you, but he was grounding himself as well. All he could do was stare blankly at his son as you cried. 

You held onto Ikmay's body, “Oh great mother, no, not my son,” you cried. 

Turning towards So’lek, you screamed out, “What is the meaning of this? When will it be enough for them? They kill needlessly!” Your voice laced with pure anguish, continuing to cry out, gripping onto your mate as if your life depended on it. 

Lew’eyn and Yuwe sat at his feet, sobbing as they watched the scene unfold. So’lek looked towards them, and then to Ri’nela, who at some point had knelt down beside you to lay a comforting hand on your back. “Take the children from here,” He choked out, not able to bear letting his children witness this. 

She nodded in agreement, moving your children away from the scene. 

So’lek looked to the sky, fighting back tears as he felt your pain mix with his own. How could he let this happen? How could Eywa take his son? 

In that moment, he blamed himself. The need for vengeance came back tenfold. 

Vengeance, he was sure to get. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you saying I can’t handle it?”

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

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

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

Neteyam, however, did not laugh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Neteyam.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Very good. Again.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You are impossible,” he whispered fiercely.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So, you dove.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A heavy silence descended upon the pavilion.

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

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

“Yes,” you nodded, your voice firm.

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

“Olo'eykte. Tsakarem.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And the worst part was the quiet.

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

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

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

But there was none.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The whetstone stopped.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now, you were back home. Heartbroken and vulnerable.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N, please—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he always came back the next day.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Neteyam picked up the marker for you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lo’ak let out a low whistle, backing away alongside the adults. Within three seconds, the entire crowd had vanished, leaving you two alone.

You turned back to Neteyam, your ears pinning flat against your head as you glared at him, trying desperately to mask the raging blush creeping up your neck. “You need to go see the Tsahik. Right now. You are bleeding through your bandage.”

Neteyam nodded, but he didn't move. He stayed standing there, towering over you, watching your fiery exasperation with a soft, maddening look of pure adoration. You groaned, a sound of defeat tearing from your throat.

Reaching out, you firmly grabbed his wrist and began dragging him yourself toward the Tsahik’s tent. “Move, you stubborn man,” you muttered. You figured you wanted to see exactly how small this wound actually was.

When you pulled him into the warmth of the Tsahik’s tent, Mo’at didn't look even remotely surprised to see you practically hauling the clan's golden heir by his arm.

“Ah, and he returns,” Mo’at remarked dryly, setting down a bowl of poultice. “Did I not tell you last night, Neteyam, when you came home violently ill and shaking with fever, that your flesh would tear? Look at this!”

With practiced, firm hands, she unclipped the medical wrap. When the bloody fabric fell away, your breath hitched, and you winced sharply.

The wound was not small. It was an angry tear about as long as your pinky finger, stretching deep into the muscle of his side, the edges raw and weeping fresh blood from where he had strained it.

“You are a liar,” you hissed, the fear in your chest turning into a surge of anger. You reached out and forcefully pinched his shoulder. “You said it was small!”

Neteyam’s hand instantly shot up, his fingers gently trapping yours against his shoulder. His twinkling eyes locked onto yours, completely unbothered by the pinch, and he flashed a rare smile that showed his pearly whites. It was so genuine, so disarming, that the hot anger in your chest simmered down into a helpless flutter.

“There is nothing to worry about, Y/N,” he murmured softly. “I’ve had worse before.”

You merely hissed at him in response, pulling your hand back.

Mo’at wiped the blood away and applied a fresh layer of soothing poultice, wrapping the midriff with tight, clean linen. Once finished, she stood up, turning her sharp gaze directly onto you. “Y/N, I am entrusting this hard-headed man to you. He does not listen to me, to his mother, or to his father. He needs strict bed rest. That wound will never close if he keeps moving and straining himself.”

You nodded with absolute solemnity, crossing your arms. “You can trust me, Tsahik. I will personally castrate this man if he even thinks about lifting a finger.”

Mo’at let out a rare, breathy chuckle, shaking her head as she gathered her bowls and exited the tent, leaving the two of you alone.

You turned to him. “Sleep,” you hissed.

“Alright, alright,” he mumbled, a soft chuckle escaping him as he sank into the furs with a weary sigh, his eyes half-closed as he looked up at you through his lashes. “No need for castration... that would make you miss your babies...”

The last words were a barely audible, sleepy whisper, but the tent was so quiet that they rang like a bell in your ears. “What?!” you snapped, your entire face exploding in a violent heat.

Neteyam just smiled lazily, turning his head onto the fur pillow. “Sleeping now...”

True to your word, you made sure he took his rest. For the next week, you refused to let him leave the Tsahik’s tent unless necessary, sitting by his side, forcing him to eat, and threatening him with your dagger whenever he tried to sit up too fast.

But once his fever broke and the wound finally closed into a healthy, silver seam, he went back to waiting at your feet, and he became entirely shameless. He would bring you the sweetest fruits before morning drills, sharpen your arrow tips and hunting dagger, and sit quietly beside you during meals, completely content just to exist in the same space. He was still the same as before. There was no pushing or demanding, only working to seamlessly wove himself into your daily routines.

If you are to be asked when exactly did the remaining ice around your heart melted, you’d say it had turned into a puddle long ago. But now, as the Hometree came alive with the people singing and dancing to celebrate a turn of successful hunts, your chest was singing with a familiar hum. One you never thought you’d feel again. You stood near the outer roots, watching the dancers, when a familiar warmth bloomed at your side.

Neteyam stood beside you, wearing his formal warrior gear. He didn’t speak, but his hand hung loosely between you, his fingers inches from yours. You bit your lip, looking at his profile through your lashes, noting his sharp jawline and his beautiful patterns. It was the same image of the boy you swore to make fall in love with you. You wondered what thirteen-year-old you would have thought if she knew that this man literally bled into the dirt just to prove he wouldn't give up on you.

You let out a soft, long sigh. Slowly, deliberately, you moved your hand to intertwine your fingers with his.

Neteyam froze. His head snapping down to look at your joined hands, and when he lifted his eyes to yours, they were bright, watering. “Y/N...” he breathed, his voice trembling.

“What?” you whispered, a soft, familiar smirk finally returning to your lips. “Some would say this is the perfect time for a kiss... Unless you’re scared,” you mumbled.

He blinked, his forehead creasing for a moment before a ragged, breathless laugh escaped him. It was you who moved and tiptoed to press a soft kiss on his lips, and you felt his arm wrap around you, pulling you closer, kissing you better. You smiled against his lips.

“I forgive you, Neteyam...” you pulled away only to murmur, and he chased your lips.

“I love you...“ he murmured, pressing his forehead against yours. The sheer, unadulterated happiness radiating from him was intoxicating, and you cannot help but grin.

But the beautiful moment was violently ripped away when a deafening horn blew, shattering the festival music and the celebration.

“Fire! Fire! Fire!” The people announced.

High above, in the eastern branches of the Hometree’s canopy, a terrifying orange glow erupted. Your breath seized at your chest, a cry of panic escaping you as the people frantically ran to and fro in all directions. Neteyam moved, signaling to the nearby hunters.

“All hunters! Gather water from the river! Move!” he roared, crisp and authoritative.

The communal clearing exploded into calculated chaos. You and Neteyam sprinted toward the lower roots, organizing lines of warriors to haul water containers up the massive vines, while flyers are gathering water from the river to splash it to extinguish the fire. At first, everyone thought it was an accident, but as the smoke cleared, a familiar deep thrumming vibrated through the air.

From the clouds, the shapes of sever RDA gunships dropped into view firing blindly into the canopy.

“To the air!” Jake’s booming voice echoed.

You and Neteyam sprinted to the high roosts, connecting to your ikrans in a synchronized flash of movement and flying into the open sky where the warriors on their ikrans were already fighting fiercely. You dove through the smoke to shoot pilots and sent arrows to the exposed underbellies of gunships you happen to get close to. Within an hour, the invading gunships were spiraling into the jungle in balls of fire.

You watched the fire it caused to the forest, your chest aching with fury and grief at the sight of it.

The war party was victorious, but the destruction it brought made all of you grim. The eastern branches of Hometree were charred black, but it didn’t burn the entirety, and fortunately, no one was dead or gravely injured.

The council convened immediately beneath the glowing roots, the air thick with tension.

“It is no longer safe to keep the children and the elders here. Hometree is too big a target,“ Jake said, his face shadowed by the firelight as he leaned over the map.

“We must relocate... for the meantime,” Neytiri agreed, her voice tight with grief.

“The Hallelujah Mountains. It’s filled of magnetic interference, their metal birds wouldn’t like it very much up there,” Neteyam spoke up, placing a stone on a specific grid of the map.

Jake nodded decisively. “We’ll send scouts, then we’ll evacuate those who cannot fight immediately. The warriors will stay on the ground to secure the perimeter and prepare our counter-strike.”

The plan was drawn swiftly. Jake didn’t want to wait longer. As soon as the clan is evacuated, the party will strike back. As you ordered some Tayrangi men to help with the evacuation, Neteyam caught your arm near the edge of the pavilion, his grup firm and his eyes holding a fierce, protective spark in them.

“After... After the battle is over...” he began, his eyes blinking too many times per second as he stammered for the right words to say.

“Hm?“ you prompted.

“Would you like...“ he trailed. “To have me as your mate?” he added, his words stumbling over one another, and even in the dark, you could see how his cheeks were tinted purple.

You blinked, your heart jumping at your throat, causing it to close as your eyes stung with hot tears. “How could I ever say no to that?” you said in a hoarse voice, your hand holding his firmly.

He pulled you close. “Yes?” he asked breathlessly and you nodded. His breath audibly caught in his throat, leaning forward to kiss you and pulling you even closer to deepen his kiss.

Neteyam broke the kiss reluctantly, his forehead resting against yours for one final, desperate second as the chaos of evacuation whirled around you two. He held your face in his hands, pressing another deep kiss. “Great Mother. I love you so much...”

You chuckled, gripping his forearm. “Glad you’ve finally caught up,“ you mumbled, giving him a peck.

“I have always been here, I was just stupid,” he chuckled, his eyes caressing your face.

The tender moment shattered, though, when a loud cough echoed from the shadows. Neteyam stiffened, and you pulled back just enough to see your brother stepping into the dim light. He had his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes narrowed at Neteyam that practically shouted an order to let you go this exact second.

Neteyam cleared his throat, his hands slowly lowering, though he kept his fingers loosely holding your hip for just a heartbeat longer before fully stepping back. You bit your lip, stopping yourself from smiling as you took Neteyam’s hand to hold it. Ruk’e looked at you with a look that would normally be accompanied with a snort.

“Mother is looking for you. Right now. She says the Tayrangi scouts need their final instructions for the eastern ridge, and you're the only one who knows the layout of the lower caves.”

You pushed your lips forward. “I'm on my way,” you said, turning to Neteyam and tiptoeing to kiss him again. You bit his lower lip before pulling away, patting his chest. “Later.“

You turned away, your tail moving behind you, its hairy tip brushing his lower abdomen. You heard his gasp and you grinned as you walked away. You brought this small pocket of joy as your ikran perched on a cliff along with the others, waiting for the signal to fight. Neteyam was several ikrans away from you, although Toruk’s big head was almost hiding him from sight. He caught your gaze, giving you a fierce, sharp nod.

The signal came not from a horn, but from the unnatural tremor of distant explosions. War cries from your people and from the warriors from various clans erupted as hundreds of ikran took to the sky.

You plunged off the ledge, diving straight into the smoke. Your ikran, holding a large boulder in its hind legs, flew over a gunship’s rotors and threw the boulder with a force that tilted the gunship before it exploded into a ball of orange flame. You banked hard, narrowly dodging a volley of gunfire directed at you.

You pulled your ikran’s reins up, pulling the string of your bow before releasing an arrow through the glass of the gunship pursuing you. You watched the vehicle spin wildly, clipping another gunship before exploding into the nearest floating mountain. A sharp war cry tore from your throat, raising your bow before flying higher.

Below, you found Neteyam, riding with the reckless bravery of Toruk Makto himself, but with the terrifying precision of Neytiri. He guided his ikran into a dive, sending arrow grenades directly onto the rotors of a Dragon Assault ship, flying upstream before the large aircraft blasted, his war cry echoing over the din of combat.

For what seemed like hours, the sky bled. Whenever you feared you couldn't find Neteyam in the swirling ikrans flying in the air, he’d appear by your side, moving perfectly synchronized with you. Every time a threat closed in on your blind spot, Neteyam’s arrow finds them. Every time gunships threatened to box him in, your own lethal accuracy puts an end to it.

By the time the sun began to dip below the horizon, the final RDA gunship was on a slow descent in flames. This should be a victorious moment, but the sight of the burning jungle below you filled you with a grief that seized your breath. The adrenaline of the battle took hours to fade, but after securing the perimeter of the clan’s hideout, and convening with the council to speak of the next steps the party should take to completely batter the RDA, you felt Neteyam’s hand catch your forearm again.

You turned to him, your excitement bubbling in your chest despite your exhaustion. You followed him as he navigated some steep edges and climbed a few vines, wondering where exactly you two are going, but when he pulled you up on what seemed like a hidden hollow, the sight of a secluded, bioluminescent pool surprised you. The water glowed with a soft, blue light, casting shifting, watery patterns across the jagged walls.

Your mouth curled into a huge smile, turning to him. “This is beautiful...”

“Found it when I was sixteen aimlessly flying around here. I thought then that maybe this could be a place for dates with my mate,” he said, smiling at you, his face devoid of tension.

“Dates?” you echoed.

“It’s... a human thing. My parents often go on dates. Just the two of them, spending time with each other...” he explained.

You smiled, “I like that.”

His hand traveled up your forearm to hold your elbow, pulling you closer. “Good. Because I’ve always thought of bringing you in this place,” he mumbled.

You looked up at him, the soft blue light from the pool catching the warmth in his eyes. “Even back then?”

“Yes,” he murmured, his voice dropping into a reverent tone that made your chest tighten pleasantly. He reached down and gently slid his fingers between yours, leading you to the edge of the water. It was you who pulled him to sink into its chilly waters. “Even when I was trying to convince myself that I had to have laser focus on my duty, to be the most competent warrior I could be for my people, you were always the exception... You were always the tilt in my world.“

He held your jaw in his hand, leaning forward to press a soft kiss on your lips. His arms wrapped around your waist, his forehead pressed against yours.

“I know you forgave me. I know you said I didn't have to keep doing... all of that. But I need to say it, ” he paused, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. “I am so sorry. I will always be sorry... For the words I threw at you, for the pain I caused, for making you feel like you had to change who you were. I will spend the rest of my life making sure you never feel that way again.”

You moved your head slightly, you nose brushing his. The raw, unshielded vulnerability in his golden eyes was breathtaking. The proud, stubborn commander of the Omatikaya was completely laid bare before you, entirely surrendered. You have only ever dreamed of that.

“Neteyam,” You said softly, cupping his jaw with both hands. He stared at you, his eyes bright and swimming with an overwhelming wave of emotion. “The girl who used to be reckless might be gone, but the woman standing in front of you loves you more than she ever did,” you whispered, a soft, tearful smile breaking across your face. “I see you, Neteyam. I see everything you've done to make up for what you did. You don't have to carry the guilt anymore. Lay it down.”

A breathless sigh escaped his lips, and he closed his eyes, leaning heavily into the palm of your hand as if a massive weight had finally been lifted from his shoulders. When he opened them again, the absolute devotion burning within them made your heart skip a beat. “I love you,” he breathed, his words an unbreakable vow. “Baby, I love you so much.”

He leaned forward, capturing your lips in a kiss that was entirely different from the stolen moments before the battle. This was slow, deep, yet desperate. You groaned softly, your fingers tangling into his braids, he pulled you even closer until there was no space left between you. His hands moved down to your hips, gently stepping you back until you hit the velvety edge of the pool.

He pulled away to look down at your face, his large form towering over you so much now that you’re nearly lying down on the flat edge. Slowly, deliberately, he brought his kuru forward, the glowing tendrils at the tip unfurling, searching for anything to connect with. “Are you sure you want me as your husband?”

You raised a brow, “Is that a warning?”

He pressed a hard kiss on your lips. “It’s only that there is no turning back... You are mine. Forever.” he whispered conspiratorially.

You took your kuru behind you, “I’ve never been one to turn back in fear...” You met him halfway, bringing your kuru forward until the tendrils entwined in a sudden, breathtaking flash of pure energy that caused borh of you to jerk involuntarily. You watched his pupils dilate, the black almost swallowing the gold.

His world felt as though it expanded, then narrowed down to just you, while you could feel the steady, powerful thrum of his heartbeat as if it were beating in your own chest. You felt the raw, overwhelming depth of his love for you, the fear he felt he drove you away from him, the desperation that ate at him when you no longer cared for him, the hope that bloomed in him when you were so worried about his small wound, and the pure, weeping joy that had consumed him when you finally held his hand at the festival.

You let out a ragged, trembling breath, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck and pulled him down into a deep, bruising kiss. Neteyam groaned softly against your lips, his arms instantly locking around your waist. He pulled you flush against his chest, lifting you slightly off the stone as if he couldn't get you close enough. The kiss shifted from soft and tender, to the desperate hardness of a man who wanted to devour you.

His hands were everywhere on your body, unclasping your beaded top and untying your loincloth behind your tail. You chuckled in his ears when his hand on your tail tickled you, and he angled his head to press a hard kiss on your jaw, shedding your loincloth off of you. He hauled you up to the ledge before following you to hover over you, his chest heaving as he looked down at you, naked under him. The cool blue light of the secluded pool danced across his broad shoulders, making you shiver with awareness about how large of a man he actually is. He looked down at you with a hunger born from years of restraining himself.

His large hands slid down from your waist, his thumbs tracing your curves down to you thighs before firmly pressing your thighs apart. You let out a soft gasp as the cool air hit your skin, but the chill was instantly replaced by the intense heat of his body as he settled between your knees. He looked up at you, his eyes dark and searching, demanding you witness exactly how completely he belonged to you.

Slowly, he lowered himself, his calloused hands guiding your knees wider, draping your legs over his broad shoulders. Your breath caught in your throat as his breath fanned across the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. He pressed a soft, lingering kiss to the smooth skin of your knee, then another higher up, tracking a slow, agonizing path inward until you were trembling beneath him.

“Neteyam,” you called, panicking as you pushed him back by his shoulder.

His eyes snapped up to you, his eyes dark and dangerous, as if waiting for you to tell him no, but the heat in his eyes flustered you with a heat on your cheeks. He kissed your inner thigh again, and when his lips finally found the center of your heat, a sharp gasp escaped you, your hand squeezing his shoulder.

He pressed a gentle hand on your chest, travelling a bit sideways to cup your breast. “Lay back,“ he mumbled and you did, propping yourself up on your elbows.

His lips found you again and he groaned against your flesh, his hands wrapping securely around the back of your thighs to hold you steady as he parted you with his fingers. His tongue was warm, broad, and too deliberate, drawing upward, tasting you fully. The connection through your entwined kurus sent a jolt of unadulterated pleasure down his spine, and in turn, you could feel his own arousal spiking through the bond, heavy and demanding.

You arched your hips off the ground, your fingers digging into the thick roots beside your head. “Neteyam...” you whimpered, your head rolling back.

He grew even relentless, his pace quickening, his tongue swirling and pressing harder against your sensitive nub. Your hips bucked when his finger slid inside you, feeling uncomfortable with the slight stretch as his mouth sucked at your heat. The sensation was too noverwhelming, and the bond is only amplifying everything. You could feel his deep satisfaction at your undoing, his pride swelling as your body began to tighten around his fingers, and with a firm stroke of his tongue, you felt a powerful tremor in your body, a loud sob tearing from your throat as your thighs clamped around his head.

Neteyam held you through the tremors, swallowing your heat, his purr vibrating heavily against you until your breathing began to slow. As he dragged himself back up to hover over you, his face flushed and his lips glistening, you caught your breath. “That was insane...” you huffed.

His eyes lightened a bit, the darkness yielding to his curiosity. “Really?“

“You know how good it felt for me,” you smiled, tugging at your entwined kurus. A sudden, wicked spark flared in your chest, traveling straight through the bond to hit him. “I want to do it to you, too,” you whispered, your voice husky, your eyes locking onto his.

Neteyam blinked, a sudden wave of heat washing through his expression as his pupils dilated further. “You don’t need—”

“No,” you cut him off, your hands sliding down his muscled abdomen, until it lowered where you felt him. He breathe sharply when you felt him through his loincloth, your hand gripping the massive hardness. “I want it in my mouth, too...”

He closed his eyes for a moment before giving in with a low, defeated groan, shedding his loincloth off before rolling onto his back on the moss. You chuckled, the sound so womanly to him he felt a currently of electricity running exclusively on the margins of his body, causing his ears to pin back against his ears as he watched you rose on your knees, parting your thighs to straddle him.

His hand moved to touch you between your thighs and you jolted with a loud moan, nearly falling over if you didn’t catch yourself by propping a hand on his chest. His fingers caressed your velvety folds, gathering your fresh wetness.

“I need to concentrate, ‘Teyam...” you groaned and he chuckled. You saw him bring his fingers into his mouth.

“Sorry... You just taste so good,” he licked his lips, reaching to kiss you, but you moved your head to kiss his jaw instead.

You pressed soft kisses on his skin, contrasting his hard and heavy kisses. His hands hovered at your waist, his head falling back, letting you slide down his body. He watched you through heavy eyelids, his hands clenching into fists at his sides as you positioned yourself between his muscled thighs. You bit your lip at the sight of his length fully erect, thick, and leaking a bead of thick pre-cum at its tip.

You leaned down, your braids brushing against his thighs as you wrapped your lips around the smooth, hot head of his shaft. Neteyam’s breath hitched violently. He threw his head back against the moss, his jaw clenching so hard the cords in his neck strained as you took him into your mouth, your hands fisting and moving by instinct. Your tongue swirled around the ridge, your hand wrapping around the base to stroke him as your mouth moved.

He moaned, his hips bucking as the bond flared with a white hot intensity. Through the connection, you felt the sheer, agonizing pleasure ripping through him, the tight, desperate control he was trying to maintain as the wet warmth of your mouth drove him insane.

“Oh, baby, please, I can't—“ he gasped out, his hips lifting involuntarily off the ground as your mouth sucked him harder. He reached down, his large hands tangling into your braids.

You thought he was going to push you away, but he only held your head there with more pressure for a few more desperate seconds that his largeness almost choked you, but then he gently pulled you up, his breathing completely shattered. You groaned, frowning that he had to pull his cock out of your mouth.

He looked you in the eyes, serious and with finality. “No more. I want to come inside you.”

He hauled you up by your waist, flipping you beneath him in one fluid motion. He was completely done with waiting. His large hand pinned both your wrists above your head, his other hand holding your waist in place as he aligned his hard length against your softness, his mouth coming down to capture yours.

With a slow, heavy thrust, Neteyam began burying himself inside you, until he’d sank in entirely. You wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders , letting out a breathless cry, feeling your walls stretching to accommodate him. The sheer, overwhelming sensation of the fit sent an exquisite pleasure for the both of you through the bond, and it felt as though your souls were melting into one another, leaving no distinction between where you and him stand.

Neteyam paused for a second, his eyes closing as he absorbed the tight, wet heat of your walls squeezing him. A ragged groan tore from his chest before he began to move in a pace that was immediately hard, deep, and desperate, as if he was pouring into you all the pent-up energy he had left from the battle.

He drove into you with a fiercely possessive rhythm, his hips pounding against yours with a strength that had you crying out his name. Every time he pulled back, he returned deeper, marking you, claiming every inch of your body as his own. His arm wrapped under your body, while the other hand hiked your knee up to your chest, making sure you receive each of his forceful thrust.

The bond left no walls or armors to crack, both of you feeling only the pure, intoxicating love, devotion, and absolute surrender you have for each other. The tension in your lower abdomen coiled tighter and tighter until it was unbearable. Neteyam’s pace became frantic, his jaw locked, his eyes fixed on yours with a terrifying intensity as he felt your walls begin to tighten around him.

“Oh, baby,” he choked out, his grip on your thigh tightening.

You screamed his name as your body convulsed around him, the pleasure shattering your vision into a thousand white sparks. Your grip on him triggered his own release, and a deep, guttural roar escaped him as he thrust brutally deep into you one last time and held himself there, his body stiffening as he spilled himself completely inside you.

“Fuck, I’m seeing stars...” he groaned, collapsing against your chest, his head buried in the crook of your neck, his own chest rising and falling in ragged, exhausted gasps. You broke into a weakened laugh, your hold on him loosening up a little as you pressed soft kisses on his temple.

The weeks that followed were a blur of war council meetings, suffocating maps, and aerial patrols around the High Camp. The ongoing struggle against the RDA had left very little time for you and Neteyam to enjoy your first days together, but it’s when you’re high above the sky that everything seemed to be yours.

You banked hard to the left, your ikran letting out a shrill cry as the wind rushed past your ears. Behind you, Neteyam dipped beneath a floating vine, a wild, unburdened laugh tearing from his throat. For a few glorious hours, the shadow of the RDA did not touch you. There were no battles, no strategies, and no bloodshed. There was only the dizzying feeling of flying, the wind, and the intoxicating freedom of racing the Neteyam through the floating mountains and its hanging vines.

He pulled up right beside you, his ikran's wingtip nearly brushing yours. When he turned his head, his golden eyes were bright, his smile throwing all his typical military crispness to the wind. You flashed him a sharp, challenging smirk, diving straight through a cascading waterfall.

“Keep up!” you taunged, leaving him to chase your laughter through the mist.

By nightfall, the adrenaline gave way to the familiar craving for quiet. You returned to the hidden hollow, slipping into the bioluminescent pool. The chilly waters swirled around your waist as Neteyam hugged you sideways, his chin finding your shoulder, bending his large frame to fit himself at your side.

Every night felt different, but tonight was calmer, filled with your soft mumurs and his low, rumbling chatters as you talked for hours about nothing at all, your fingers tracing the faint, silvery marks of his scars, before the talking faded into the slow and heavy rhythm of your lovemaking.

You are a impatient woman, but you couldn’t deny your love for his deliberate, agonizing slowness sometimes, his hands anchoring your waist as he worshipped you. Every thrust was deep and strong, his lips pressed to your throat, whispering your name like a prayer until the sensations from the bond left you both breathless, tangled together in a sweating, blissful heap.

The sky was just beginning to shift from darkness to the bruised purple of pre-dawn light when you woke up, your body singing with delicious soreness and you snuggled closer to his warmth. You kissed the soft skin of his shoulder, you hand caressing his muscled chest down to his abdomen. You smiled when he stirred, pressing soft kisses on his shoulder and neck, until you reach his jaw.

“Wake up, handsome...“ you mumbled. “It’s your turn today.”

He groaned softly, pulling you closer to him. “I hate leaving you.”

You chuckled. “So dramatic, my handsome man. I will be close behind,” you said, patting his abdomen. “Quick, quick. Before they wake up.”

He grunted, hauling you on top of him effortlessly. His eyes, though sleepy, watched you darkly as his hands moved to knead your breasts. You gasped softly, your hand clutching at his bicep as you peered down at him.

“I’m still sore from last night,” you said with a little drama, pouting at him.

He bit his lip, cooing at you. “I’ll help...” his hands moved down to your waist, ready to roll you over to your back but you were quick to sit up.

“No thanks. I know it’s not really help,” you smirked, grabbing your top. “Get up, warrior. You don’t want to get caught, do you?”

Neteyam groaned, a soft smile on his face before getting up, his hand clamping on your ankle to pull you toward him. You smiled when he bent his head a little to level with you. “Kiss,“ he mumbled and you gave him your lips.

You two kissed and kissed, but when you felt him nudging you to lie on your back, your eyes snapped open, pulling away from the kiss with narrowed eyes. “Neteyam...”

He smiled, his head falling dramatically. You rushed him, watching how the sun is almost peeking through the bruised sky, and Neteyam moved as quickly as he could, stealthily slipping back into the camp, walking with a light, quiet stride, a faint smile still on his lips as he neared his family’s tent.

“Out late?”

Neteyam froze, his ears pinning flat against his head. His father stepped out from the shadow, his arms crossed. From just inside the tent flap, Neytiri stepped forward, her sharp eyes narrowed at her eldest son in a way that made Neteyam’s posture instantly snap into military rigidity.

Jake sighed. “Neteyam... I've been meaning to talk to you, boy. I know you’re sort of courting Y/N. The whole clan knows it, everyone knows it, but you cannot just spend nights after nights with her to only Eywa knows where. You are both unmated. It's a small camp, people talk, and it’s not going to be a good look for her reputation.”

Neytiri stepped fully into the dim light, her tail twitching. “Just last night, when you had to sleep here, you looked like you were being sent to war instead of just holding Tuk because she’s asked to snuggle with you,” she pointed out. “You best ask for her hand from Ikeyni, son. Formally. You can’t dishonor her with this fooling around that you young people tend to engage in these days.“

Neteyam opened his mouth to speak and explain, but the look on his father’s face had him turning his head to follow Jake’s line of vision. He then saw you stepping into the clearing, completely unaware of the tribunal happening right in front of the Sully tent. You had planned to quickly slip into the yurt you shared with your mother to change your clothes and fix your hair, but you had taken the wrong turn.

You stopped dead in your tracks.

To say you looked thoroughly ravaged was an understatement. Your hair was a wild, tangled halo of loose braids, your lips were visibly swollen, and your chest was heaving from the hurried walk. You looked exactly like a woman who had spent the last hours being thoroughly fucked. Jake blinked, looking from you to his son.

Neytiri tilted her head, her gaze shifting slowly from your wild hair down to Neteyam’s deeply flushed face. She looked at her son pointedly, her eyes narrowing to dangerous slits. “Neteyam...”

Neteyam looked at you, then at his parents, his chest rising as he took a deep, steadying breath. The boyish embarrassment vanished, replaced by the fierce, unyielding pride of a man who knew exactly where he stood.

He walked over to you, completely ignoring his father’s stunned expression, and firmly wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him.

“I will personally apologize to the Olo’eykte, Mother. Because there is no need to ask for her hand,” Neteyam said, squeezing your waist a bit as he looked at his parents. “We are already mated.”

Your heart jumped into your throat, your cheeks burning.

Jake stared at his son, utterly speechless for three long seconds, before a slow, defeated smirk began to tug at the corner of his mouth. “Well... damn. Congratulations, I guess,” he said. “But you need to talk to Ikeyni about this. Immediately.”

“What is the matter at hand?” Your mother’s voice coming from your clan’s side of the camp.

You startled, pursing your lips. Neytiri watched you, the stern face for her son breaking into a soft smile as she shook her head in comical disbelief for your and Neteyam’s stubbornness.

The light had long since vanished by the time you were left to rot on the floor.

Cold, merciless concrete pressed against your aching back, seeping into bone and muscle alike. You weren’t sure how long it had been. Hours. Days. Time had lost all meaning here. The only thing you could still cling to was the image of So’lek’s face. The way he had dropped to his knees before you, fury and terror warring in his eyes, held back only by Nor’s grip anchoring him in place.

The memory tore at you every time it surfaced. And it surfaced often.

In the silence, the long stretches of nothing, it replayed behind your eyes, unbidden. You were alone now. Trapped inside a glass box, hidden away from anyone who might care enough to come looking. The walls hummed softly around you, alive with machinery you did not understand but had learned to fear.

You hadn’t seen a living soul in a long while.

Luckily they redressed your wound, or else you may not have made it much longer. The last time they came, it had taken reinforcements to hold you down. Cold hands. Restraints biting into your wrists. Needles. Vials. They took your blood and called it research. They tested and prodded as if you were nothing more than another specimen—no different from the days before. No different from the cage you thought you had escaped. 

The memory returned in violent waves when they burst into your cell.

Mercer.

Your sister.

You had barely escaped him with your life the first time. When they left you alone again, the door sealing shut with a mechanical hiss, you cried until your chest ached. You cried for your people. For So’lek. For Nor and Ri’nela. And for your sister most of all.

You had thought you had fled this. Thought you could prove her life—your life—was worth something more than what they had taken from it.

You had told him to run. To leave you behind, knowing it was not something he would ever do lightly. Even now, you could still feel his hand at the hollow of your neck. Still feel the feather-soft kiss he had pressed to your temple before he flew.

You wondered where he was now. What he was doing. What he was feeling.

How had it come to this?

–

“So’lek.”

Draw. Drag.

“So’lek?”

Draw. Drag.

The blade hissed against the stone, sparks biting the air, the vibration traveling up his arm and into his shoulder.

“So’lek—”

The knife was at Nor’s throat before the sound finished leaving his mouth.

Teeth bared, vision narrowed, So’lek staggered back as recognition struck too late. Nor stood rigid, hands lifted in instinctive defense, fear flushing his skin. The sight cut through So’lek like iced water, shock and regret crashing down his spine.

All Nor had done was touch his shoulder.

That was all it took.

“Nor”

“It’s alright,” Nor said quickly. “I’m sorry.”

Sorry.

The word curdled in his chest. He had heard it too many times, spoken softly and carefully, like the beginning of an ending. You weren’t dead.

He hadn’t lost you.

Two weeks. That was how long you had been gone. Taken by Mercer and his men, swallowed by the night. For what purpose he did not know. What they could want from you now gnawed at him, hollowing him from the inside out.

Nor’s hand on his shoulder dragged him back to the cliffside, uttering reassuring words of confidence birthed from ignorance. Then, being held in place while you were torn away, the prayers to Eywa vanishing as the doors closed before him. To the moment, he had been forced to live instead of die for you.

He would have given his life. Should have.

“Leave.” He dropped the knife onto the workbench, the clang swallowed by the ever-present hum of the resistance base. Machines whirred. Voices passed. The world continued, indifferent and intact.

“So’lek,” Nor said quietly, “I came to pull you from this cave. Not watch you die in it, tsmukan.”

Everything felt heavy. His limbs. His chest. His eyes burned constantly now, sleep refusing him, food turning to ash in his mouth. There was only the ache where you belonged—an absence that dragged him lower when anger loosened its grip.

And anger loosened rarely.

The first week, he flew until his muscles screamed, scouring the skies with Iley until exhaustion forced him down. No sign of you. Only targets for his rage. Places to carve it out of himself. No one had heard word of Mercer or his men, but survival clung to him as it always did. His drill base, however, lay in ruin. The rubble and pollution were bleeding into the land, a wound Pandora would remember long after the smoke cleared.

Now in this second week, he hadn’t worn his vest in days.

Not since the skies had yielded nothing but silence. Not since the endless flight with Iley had carved the wind into his bones and left him hollowed out by hope. The straps lay discarded now, forgotten where he had torn them free without thought.

Nor had noticed.

Anyone would have.

The faint mark still lingered on So’lek’s chest—a ghost of pigment against blue skin, barely visible now unless the light caught it just right. A handprint, once bold and deliberate, softened by time and sweat and grief. So’lek had worn the vest constantly after you painted him, refusing to let it rub away, guarding it as if it were something sacred.

As if it were you.

Now it was exposed, fading slowly with each breath he took, each moment you remained gone. Nor’s gaze flickered there only once before snapping back to So’lek’s face, understanding settling heavy and unavoidable in his eyes.

Now, standing still, he let Nor see him. The darkness beneath his eyes. The fracture that was running straight through his center.

“No,” So’lek said.

“Tsmukan—”

“I said no.”

Nor exhaled sharply. “You will kill yourself with grief.”

Nor knew now. What you were to him. What the two of you had chosen. What had been stolen before it could be completed. Something that had been ripped away too early, splintering So’lek from the inside out.

So’lek’s jaw tightened. “You do not get to decide what I do with grief,” he seethed. 

Nor lifted his chin, his face hard as the stone around them. “Fine. Do as you see fit.”

When he was gone, So’lek picked the knife up again, stuck the sharpening stone between his legs, and went back to scraping a blade that no longer needed attention. 

—

The walls hummed endlessly around you.

At first the sound had driven you toward madness, the constant vibration threading through the glass and metal like a living thing buried beneath the facility. It swallowed silence whole, filling every waking moment until there was no room left for thought. For grief. For sleep. Yet somewhere between the hours bleeding into days, you had stopped fighting it. Stopped clawing against the cage until your nails split and your muscles gave out beneath restraint. Pandora still breathed beyond these walls. You could feel her if you sat still long enough.

Eywa was difficult to hear here.

The metal disrupted everything. Thick walls, reinforced glass, machinery buried deep beneath the earth. The Sky People had built this place like a wound carved directly into the land, something meant to sever connection and isolate anything trapped within it. Still, beneath the humming and the vibration of engines, beneath the artificial lights that never truly dimmed, she remained.

Softly.

Faint as distant rainfall.

You sat cross-legged near the center of the cell now, eyes closed, breathing deep and steady as your fingertips rested against your knees. The ache in your body had dulled over time, settling into something familiar. Even your wound no longer burned the way it once had. They kept it clean now. Kept you alive. You had learned enough from the scientists moving around you to understand that meant you were useful.

Useful things were preserved.

Your thoughts no longer circled endlessly around violence and bloodshed. The memories still existed, sharp and ugly, but they no longer consumed every waking moment. Instead, you found yourself clinging to gentler things. So’lek’s hands in yours. Ri’nela’s laugh carried through the resistance caves. Nor teasing you beside the fire while the smell of roasted fish drifted through camp. You remembered the way Pandora glowed beneath eclipse light and the way So’lek’s breathing changed when he finally allowed himself peace beside you.

Those memories became a sanctuary.

You hold them close now, turning them over carefully within yourself like precious stones polished smooth with time. Eywa lived in memory just as much as the roots beneath the earth. You understood that now.

The sound of heavy boots eventually disturbed the stillness.

You did not open your eyes.

The footsteps slowed outside the glass, followed by the familiar hiss of machinery cycling nearby. Another visitor. Another scientist, perhaps, coming to prod and extract and study what remained of you. Your breathing never faltered.

“Well,” Mercer’s voice drawled from beyond the barrier, “that’s disappointing'."

Your eyes remained shut.

“I expected screaming. Maybe throwing yourself against the glass again.” His boots echoed softly as he paced before the cell. “This is just sad.”

Still you did not respond.

Mercer hated silence. You realized that quickly. Men like him preferred reactions. Fear. Anger. Anything that proved they still had their hands wrapped around your throat. Your calm unsettled him in ways rage never could.

The glass reflected him faintly even through your lowered lashes. Broad shoulders. Human arrogance dressed up as authority. Alive.

A mistake.

“You know,” he continued after a moment, “I was beginning to think maybe you finally broke.”

The hum of the room filled the pause between his words.

You focused instead on the pulse beneath the floor. On the distant feeling of roots buried somewhere far below steel foundations. Eywa was here. Faint, but present, and the thought steadied you.

Mercer eventually stopped pacing. “No questions?” he asked. “No begging? No heroic threats today?”

Your jaw tightened slightly.

That alone seemed enough encouragement for him to continue.

“That warrior of yours,” he said casually, “the scarred one. He’s making a real mess out there.”

The world stopped.

Your eyes opened slowly.

Mercer smiled the moment he saw the shift in you. There it was. The reaction he’d been digging for.

“So’lek,” you breathed before you could stop yourself. “He’s alive?”

Mercer leaned one shoulder against the glass. “Very much alive. Angry too. Hell, my men are practically scared to leave camp now.”

Hope struck so violently through your chest that it almost hurt. For weeks you had buried every thought of him beneath grief, terrified that Mercer had taken him from you too. Yet the moment his name crossed Mercer’s lips, you felt him again as clearly as if his hand still rested against your skin.

Alive.

So’lek was alive.

A slow breath filled your lungs as something inside you settled into place. Not relief.

Certainty.

Your spine straightened as you rose carefully to your feet, stepping closer toward the glass for the first time since he’d arrived. Mercer’s amusement faltered slightly beneath the weight of your stare. You could almost see the exact moment he realized he’d made a mistake speaking So’lek’s name aloud.

“He will come for me,” you said quietly.

Mercer scoffed. “You really think one Na’vi is enough to—”

“He will come for me,” you repeated, firmer now, your voice carrying through the room with chilling certainty. “And he will not stop until every one of you is dead.”

The humor faded from Mercer’s face completely.

You stepped closer still, enough that your reflection merged faintly with his against the glass.

“Or worse.”

—

The resistance base had begun to feel like a grave.

Not loud enough to be alive. Not quiet enough to rest.

The walls breathed with machinery and distant conversation, warriors moving through the caverns with purpose while So’lek remained trapped within them, pacing the same worn paths until the stone itself felt carved by grief. Every corner of the caves held memories now. You are laughing beside the fires. Your voice echoes through the tunnels. Your hand brushes his arm in passing. He could not sit without seeing you there. Could not close his eyes without imagining the sound of your breathing beside him.

It was suffocating him.

So’lek stood abruptly from the cot he had not slept in, the movement violent enough to rattle the weapons laid beside it. His chest felt too tight again, grief wrapping around his ribs like constricting vines, squeezing until breathing itself became labor. He needed air. Needed the sky. Needed movement before the darkness inside him swallowed what little remained.

His bow was slung across his back first, movements sharp and practiced despite exhaustion weighing heavily through his limbs. The rifle followed, secured against his side, before he gathered the remaining blades from the workbench. The resistance caves were dim this late into the cycle, lit mostly by low fires and glowing fungi along the walls, but even in the muted light he could see the vest where it hung untouched nearby.

His hands stilled.

For several long breaths he only stared at it.

The material still carried the shape of him from constant wear, worn soft along the seams from battle and flight and sleepless nights spent searching the skies for some trace of you. Slowly, his fingers closed around it, gripping tighter than necessary as memory struck him again with merciless precision. Your laughter while painting his chest. The warmth of your palm pressing against his skin. The teasing look in your eyes when he asked you to paint him. 

As if preserving it could preserve you.

His jaw tightened as he dragged the vest over his shoulders. The faded handprint vanished beneath the leather once more, hidden close against his chest where no one else could see it.

Alive.

The word had rooted itself deep inside him these past days despite the silence. He did not know how. Did not know if it was instinct, hope, or desperation refusing to rot. But somewhere beneath all the grief and fury clawing through him, certainty remained.

You were alive.

And if you were alive, then he had wasted enough time suffocating in these caves.

So’lek turned sharply toward the exit tunnels, feet striking hard against stone as he moved through the resistance base with purpose for the first time in days. Several warriors glanced toward him as he passed, sensing something unsettled in the force of his stride. He ignored them all until a familiar voice cut through the cavern behind him.

“So’lek!”

He did not stop immediately. Only slowed enough for footsteps to catch him.

A resistance scout rounded the corner, breathless, rifle still slung over one shoulder. “A report came in from the northern mountains,” the young warrior explained quickly. “There is another RDA base hidden within the cliffs. Concealed beneath the fog.”

So’lek’s pulse slammed against his ribs.

“Where?”

“Due north past the black rivers, but the skies are too thick to fly safely right now. Ri’nela says we wait until—”

“I am leaving now.”

The words came sharp enough to cut.

The scout visibly faltered. “We need reinforcements assembled first. The fog—”

“I said I am leaving.”

The cave shifted with tension. Nearby warriors paused their movements as So’lek stepped forward again, shoulders squared with dangerous intent. The thought of waiting another hour, another moment while you remained trapped somewhere beneath human hands, made his vision darken.

“They are preparing a larger unit,” another voice interjected carefully. “If there truly is a hidden base—”

“I do not care.”

The admission echoed more harshly than intended.

Several heads turned fully now. So’lek barely noticed. His breathing had quickened again, anger and desperation twisting together beneath his skin until they became unbearable. Every second spent talking felt like failure. Every delay another moment you suffered alone.

Then Ri’nela appeared from deeper within the cavern.

She slowed the instant she saw him.

Not the weapons. Not the pacing tension surrounding the gathered warriors. Him.

The exhaustion hollowing his face. The darkness beneath his eyes. The grief he wore now as openly as bloodstains.

“So’lek,” she said carefully, stepping closer. “What is this?”

“I am going north.”

“Into the mountains alone?” Her ears flicked back slightly. “Through fog thick enough to blind Ikran?"

“They have her.”

The words cracked from him before he could stop them.

Silence settled heavily through the cave.

Ri’nela studied him for a long moment, something softening behind her eyes as understanding slowly took shape. “So’lek,” she said, quieter now, “what does she mean to you?”

His throat tightened violently.

Everything in him wanted to reject the question, to move past it, to leave before another moment slipped away. Yet your face rose inside him again with painful clarity—the sound of your laugh, your hands against his skin, the certainty that his soul had begun intertwining with yours long before either of you named it aloud.

“Everything.”

The word left him rough and unsteady.

Ri’nela’s expression shifted.

“I am nothing without her,” he admitted quietly, the truth scraping its way free from somewhere deep and wounded inside him. “Nothing.”

Several warriors lowered their eyes at the confession, as though witnessing something sacred they were never meant to hear.

Ri’nela stepped closer. “You have formed tsaheylu?”

So’lek froze.

The answer caught painfully in his chest.

“No.”

The silence afterward felt heavier than stone.

Ri’nela looked almost startled by it, perhaps expecting denial or shame, but instead she found only grief. A bond unfinished. A love formed so deeply it rivaled tsaheylu itself without ever needing completion.

For a moment she looked ready to scold him like some ancient tsahìk lecturing foolish lovers beneath the trees. Yet whatever sharp words first came to mind died quickly behind her eyes as she remembered you. Your loyalty. Your strength beside them in battle. The way you fought for these people as if born among them.

Ri’nela lifted her hand slowly, pressing her palm against the center of his chest over the hidden handprint beneath the vest.

“If your love for her outbids Eywa’s will,” she said softly, “then your love is the strongest of all.”

The words nearly undid him.

His eyes shut briefly as grief surged again beneath his ribs, violent and aching.

“Do not die being foolish, So’lek,” Ri’nela whispered. “She needs you alive if she is to return to you.”

The cavern remained silent around them, and slowly, painfully, the fury in his chest loosened enough for reason to breathe through it.

Though not gone. Never gone.

But waiting.

—

The resistance caves stirred long before dawn.

Warriors moved through the tunnels in low murmurs, gathering supplies beneath dim firelight while the mountain winds howled faintly through cracks in the stone overhead. The fog rolling down from the northern cliffs had swallowed most of the skies through the night, thick enough to blind even experienced riders if they flew too deep into it. Yet, still, the resistance prepared. Weapons were sharpened. Medical packs assembled. Scouts whispered over rough maps scratched into the stone floor while Ikran handlers moved through the outer caverns, checking harnesses and flight straps beneath flickering lantern glow.

The entire base carried tension now.

So’lek stood near the mouth of the upper caves where cold air spilled through the opening and curled around his skin. The mountains beyond were barely visible through the dense wall of fog swallowing the horizon. Somewhere beyond it, hidden within stone and steel, was you.

The thought settled heavily beneath his ribs once more.

Alive, you had to be. 

Ri’nela’s words had lingered long after the cavern emptied. They haunted him now in the quiet moments between movement, burrowing deep into places grief had already hollowed thin. She needs you alive. The truth of it sat uneasily inside him because it forced him to confront something far worse than death itself.

Hope.

Hope meant there was still something left to lose.

His hands tightened slowly around the leather straps he was fastening across his forearm guards. The motions should have been familiar and effortless after years of battle, yet exhaustion made even simple tasks feel distant. His fingers slipped once against the worn buckles before he cursed quietly beneath his breath and forced them steady again.

A low chirr echoed from behind him.

Iley.

The ikran rested within the upper perch carved into the cliffside, her massive wings tucked close against her body while she watched him carefully. Even in the muted cavern light, her colors shimmered faintly beneath the bioluminescent moss lining the walls. She had sensed his unrest for days now. Perhaps longer. Each flight had become harder to pull her from, the creature reluctant to land once she felt the direction of his grief carrying them endlessly across the skies.

So’lek approached her slowly, the tension in his shoulders refusing to ease even now. Iley lowered her head slightly as he neared, rumbling softly deep within her chest. The sound reverberated through him in a way words no longer could.

“You are restless too,” he murmured.

The ikran nudged against his shoulder hard enough to nearly unbalance him.

A humorless breath escaped his nose.

“I know.”

He rested his forehead briefly against the side of her neck, eyes falling shut as the familiar warmth of her skin grounded him. Beneath his palms he could feel her breathing, steady and alive, tethering him to something beyond the fury threatening to consume him whole. The caves, the warriors, and the distant preparation behind him all seemed to fade beneath the weight pressing endlessly through his chest.

You should have been here.

You should have been beside him preparing your own gear while teasing him for the way he overtightened every strap when anxious. You should have been laughing softly beneath your breath while Ri’nela scolded reckless scouts nearby. Every future he saw still carried your shape within it so completely that imagining the world without you felt impossible.

And that impossibility terrified him.

“I cannot lose her,” he admitted quietly against Iley’s skin.

The words nearly vanished beneath the wind.

No warrior stood near enough to hear them. No one except Eywa herself.

Iley rumbled again, softer this time, pressing her head more firmly against him as though sensing the fracture threatening to split him open beneath the surface. So’lek swallowed hard, jaw tightening violently as exhaustion and grief clawed upward once more. He had spent days forcing himself not to unravel completely, burying emotion beneath anger because anger at least kept him moving. But now, standing within the cold mouth of the caves with the mountains looming ahead like waiting ghosts, fear finally found him.

Not fear of death.

Fear of being too late.

A sudden burst of movement echoed through the tunnels behind him as several warriors approached, carrying packs and ammunition crates toward the flight perches. Their voices broke the moment apart before it could deepen further. So’lek pulled away from Iley slowly, forcing his breathing steady again as the walls around him hardened back into stone instead of memory.

One of the scouts paused nearby. “The ground team leaves within the hour,” he informed carefully. “The fog is beginning to thin along the lower cliffs. Ri’nela believes we can move safely by dawn.”

So’lek gave a single nod.

An hour.

The waiting already felt unbearable.

Yet now that movement had finally begun, the suffocating helplessness inside him shifted into something sharper. Focused and violent. Purpose carved itself slowly through the grief, turning sorrow into a blade with only one direction left to point.

North. Toward you.

—

The mountains swallowed the skies whole.

Fog rolled thick between the cliffs in endless waves of white, devouring everything beyond a few strained feet of visibility as the resistance riders pushed north through freezing winds. Even the bioluminescence of Pandora struggled here, dimmed beneath stormclouds and stone so towering they seemed to split the world itself apart. Iley’s wings beat hard beneath So’lek as they cut through the mist, her screeches echoing faintly somewhere ahead of the others before vanishing back into the storm.

The flight had become miserable long before dawn.

Rain lashed against his skin in sharp bursts, soaking through leather and collecting beneath the collar of his vest while the fog reduced the skies to blind instinct and memory. More than once jagged cliff faces emerged from the white without warning, forcing riders to veer violently away at the last moment. One young warrior nearly clipped the mountainside entirely before Ri’nela shouted a warning through the storm.

Still, they flew.

So’lek barely felt the cold anymore.

His hands remained locked tightly around the harness as Iley dove lower through the cliffs, her body weaving effortlessly between narrow passages hidden beneath curtains of mist. Every beat of her wings carried him closer to you. The thought had consumed everything else now. Hunger. Exhaustion. Reason. There was only movement northward and the violent certainty waiting beneath his ribs.

Several riders called signals to one another through sharp whistles when visibility vanished completely, their ikrans forced dangerously close together as the storm worsened. So’lek hardly heard them. His eyes remained fixed forward through the fog, jaw clenched hard enough to ache. Somewhere beyond these mountains, you were trapped behind steel and glass while he wasted precious time fighting weather and distance.

The fury of it threatened to hollow him all over again.

Eventually Ri’nela’s signal cut through the storm ahead.

Land.

The riders descended reluctantly toward the lower cliffs, where narrow ledges carved into the mountainside offered enough shelter to regroup. Iley landed heavily against slick stone, claws scraping loudly as she folded her wings against the rain. So’lek dismounted before she had fully settled, feet striking hard against the cliffside while the others secured supplies nearby.

The fog was thinner here near the ground, though only barely. Dark pines stretched endlessly down the mountainside beneath drifting sheets of white while freezing runoff rushed violently through the ravines below.

Nor approached first.

“You should eat.”

So’lek ignored him, checking the chamber of his rifle instead.

“You have not slept properly in days either,” Nor continued carefully, lowering his voice beneath the sounds of the storm. “Your hands are shaking.”

“They are steady enough.”

The words came flat as Nor watched him for a moment longer, concern deepening across his face before his attention shifted toward the valley below. “Scouts found signs of RDA movement further down the cliffs,” he explained. “Ri’nela believes we are close.”

Close.

The word struck like a blade sliding beneath So’lek’s ribs.

He turned immediately toward the slope descending into the trees below, already moving before Ri’nela’s voice stopped him.

“We move together.”

So’lek’s shoulders tightened visibly.

“She may not have time for together.”

Ri’nela stepped closer through the drifting fog, rain clinging to the braids against her shoulders. “And if you die rushing blindly into the mountains, then neither of you survive this.”

The truth of it only made him angrier.

His fists clenched once before finally loosening at his sides as several scouts emerged from below the ridgeline carrying rifles and scattered equipment. One of them looked shaken.

“There was fighting,” the warrior reported breathlessly. “Near the lower pass.”

So’lek moved before anyone else could speak.

The group descended quickly through slick stone and dense forest until the scent of smoke and blood cut sharply through the rain. The remains of an RDA patrol lay scattered along the ravine floor below. Broken equipment. Torn packs. Blood washed slowly across the stone beneath the storm runoff.

The bodies were fresh.

So’lek’s pulse thundered.

One soldier had been pinned violently against a tree by an arrow buried so deep through his chest that the shaft had splintered from impact. Another lay crumpled near the rocks below with his throat torn nearly open.

The resistance warriors spread cautiously through the wreckage while So’lek descended into the clearing alone.

Then he saw it.

Half buried beneath mud and rainwater near the edge of the ravine rested one of your arrows.

The arrows he had watched you sharpen beside the fires countless nights before, the feather coloring at ends unique to you.

So’lek stopped breathing.

Slowly he crouched, lifting it carefully from the mud. Fresh blood still stained the tip, as if it had been torn free from a wound.

Not old or abandoned.

Used.

The realization hit him so violently it nearly staggered him where he knelt.

You fought back.

A strange sound escaped him then, something between relief and rage as his fingers closed tightly around the blade. Every ounce of grief twisting inside him sharpened instantly into purpose.

Alive.

You were alive.

A sudden explosion ripped through the mountainside before the thought could fully settle.

The ground shook beneath their feet as fire erupted somewhere deeper within the valley ahead, bright orange flames momentarily illuminating the fog in violent flashes. Several ikran shrieked from the cliffs above while warriors immediately reached for weapons.

So’lek’s head snapped toward the source.

North. Towards the hidden base. 

Towards you. 

—

The moment Mercer spoke So’lek’s name aloud, something inside you changed.

Hope was a dangerous thing. You understood that now more than ever. It rooted itself deep inside the ribs and refused to die, even here beneath steel ceilings and fluorescent lights, where Eywa’s voice struggled to reach. Once you knew he was alive, truly alive, there was no longer room left inside you for surrender. The grief that had kept you motionless upon the cold floor sharpened into purpose so quickly it almost frightened you.

So you began watching. Listening.

Learning the rhythm of the facility the way you once learned the pulse of the forests. Guards rotated in predictable patterns. Scientists lingered too long while speaking outside your cell. The medical staff grew careless once you stopped resisting. That had been your first advantage. Compliance made humans arrogant.

So you let them believe you were broken.

The next medic who entered your containment room alone did not even notice the shift in your breathing until it was too late.

You moved the instant the restraints loosened.

The sound he made was short and wet as you slammed him hard against the glass wall, ripping the injector from his grip before driving it straight into his throat. Alarms erupted immediately. Red lights flooded the room in violent flashes while you stripped the access card from his belt and ran.

The hallways stretched endlessly.

Metal corridors twisting in every direction beneath screaming sirens and pounding footsteps as soldiers flooded through the lower sectors searching for you. You barely recognized your own body anymore as it moved. Faster. Sharper. Instinct carried you through every turn while gunfire sparked against steel walls behind you.

One guard rounded the corner too slowly, and you took his weapon before he could fully raise it.

Another came from the left corridor.

Then another.

The facility became chaotic around you.

You remembered very little after that beyond movement and survival. Blood slicking your palms. Human shouting echoing through ventilation shafts. Your own breathing roaring inside your ears as you carved your way through the maze, searching for one thing only.

Your gear.

When you finally found the storage room hidden behind reinforced doors, the sight nearly stopped you cold. Your clothing had been thrown carelessly across a steel table beside your weapons, cataloged and tagged like trophies. Rage surged so violently through you that your vision blurred.

You snatched your knives first.

The familiar weight settled instantly into your palms like returning pieces of yourself. By the time soldiers breached the doorway moments later, you were already moving again.

The first died before crossing the threshold.

The second managed half a scream.

From there, the base began collapsing from the inside outward.

You moved through it like wildfire. Vent shafts. Catwalks. Supply corridors. Every piece of knowledge stolen through observation turned against them now. One by one perimeter guards vanished beneath arrows fired from the smoke while isolated patrols never returned to their posts. Bodies fell silently into mud outside the compound walls while alarms screamed endlessly into the mountains.

You needed them to notice.

Needed someone beyond these walls to hear the destruction and come searching.

So you made the loudest statement you could.

The AMP suit had already been disabled when you found it abandoned near the eastern loading platforms, smoke pouring from exposed wiring while nearby fuel canisters sat unsecured in the panic. Your remaining arrows were few now. Precious.

You tied the explosive charge directly beneath one shaft with shaking fingers.

“Come find me,” you whispered.

Then you fired.

The arrow struck dead center, and for one suspended heartbeat nothing happened.

Then the world erupted.

The explosion tore violently through the compound in a chain reaction of fire and metal, fuel igniting so rapidly that the shockwave lifted you clean off your feet. Heat engulfed everything. Steel screamed. Smoke swallowed the sky as the blast hurled you backward across the platform.

Your spine slammed hard against the stair railing as pain exploded through your body.

A sharp cry tore from your throat as the impact knocked the air from your lungs entirely. The world was ringing violently around you while flames climbed higher through the base behind you, black smoke rolling into the mountains in enormous waves.

Coughing hard, you forced yourself upward onto trembling arms.

And then you saw them.

Dark figures burst through the fog overhead as Ikran riders broke across the horizon.

Your breath caught. They came.

Eywa, they came.

Ikran's screams pierced through the smoke while riders descended from the clouds like wrath itself, silhouettes cutting through firelight and ash. For one impossible moment, relief struck you so hard it weakened your knees.

So’lek.

You tried to stand fully, but pain lanced violently through your side, forcing a limp instead as dizziness spun the world unevenly beneath your feet. Blood ran warm down your arm now. You had not even noticed being hit while gunfire erupted somewhere below.

You staggered through smoke and wreckage, weaving between burning debris while soldiers shouted over each other in panic. The base had become a battlefield. Fire illuminated the fog in violent flashes while alarms still screamed without pause.

Then a voice stopped you cold.

“Well,” Mercer drawled from somewhere ahead through the smoke, “there she is.”

You froze, thinking to yourself, This is where he dies. This is where you kill him.

He emerged slowly from the wreckage with a rifle already trained on your chest, ash drifting around him like black snow. One side of his mask was streaked with soot and blood now, though the smile pulling at his mouth remained infuriatingly calm.

“You are becoming a real pain in my ass.”

You bared your teeth despite the blood coating your tongue. “Funny,” you rasped. “I was just thinking the same.”

Mercer laughed softly, adjusting the rifle higher against his shoulder. “You really thought you were getting out of here?”

Behind him, the mountains thundered with distant explosions and ikran cries.

“They found me,” you shot back, breath uneven. “And they are going to tear this place apart.”

Something dangerous flickered briefly across Mercer’s expression then. Not fear.

Calculation.

“You won’t get away,” he said flatly.

Then he fired, but not at you. 

The bullet struck the fuel barrel beside you as light consumed everything.

The explosion ripped violently through the platform with enough force to shatter steel beneath your feet. Heat slammed into you like a living thing as the world vanished into fire and noise and unbearable white pain.

And then—

Nothing.

—

The hidden base burned beneath him.

Smoke swallowed the mountains in violent black waves as So’lek and Iley burst over the compound walls like something torn free from Eywa’s wrath herself. Gunfire erupted immediately from below, tracer rounds ripping upward through the fog while soldiers screamed over alarms and collapsing structures. So’lek barely heard any of it. His rifle thundered endlessly in his hands as Iley dove low over the rooftops, her screeches cutting through the firestorm while bullets sparked against metal beneath them.

“Where are you?!” he roared into the smoke.

Everywhere he looked, there was destruction.

Burning AMP suits. Dead soldiers. Explosions still rippling through fuel lines beneath the compound. The entire base had been ripped apart from within before the resistance had even arrived, and somewhere deep beneath the chaos a fierce, almost painful pride surged through his chest.

You did this. You fought and survived.

He spotted arrows buried in human throats. Bodies dragged into shadows. Blood trails weaving through the maze of platforms and stairwells like marks left deliberately for him to follow. Every piece of it carried your handprint. Your fury.

And Eywa, he had never loved you more.

Iley landed heavily atop one of the upper platforms, claws shrieking against steel as So’lek rose immediately from the harness, scanning the battlefield below through drifting smoke and flame. Warriors descended through the skies around him now, resistance fighters flooding into the compound while gunfire erupted from every direction.

Then he saw you.

You stumbled through the wreckage below with one hand clutched tightly against your side, blood soaking through your fingers while smoke curled around your body in thick waves. Even injured, even barely standing, he recognized the shape of you instantly. The sight nearly brought him to his knees.

His heart stopped, and his chest ached.

Yet a man stood before you. Mercer, and the rifle in his hands glinted through the firelight.

So’lek did not think; he couldn't. Only instinct took over. “Iley!”

The ikran launched instantly from the rooftop beneath him as he fired blindly into the compound below, rage consuming every coherent thought inside his skull. The world narrowed into violent tunnel vision. There was only you. Only the man standing before you. Only the unbearable distance between them.

You did not see him, did not hear his screams, or see his face. 

Then everything slowed as Mercer fired.

The fuel barrel beside you erupted in blinding white light as the explosion tore through the platform with enough force to shake the mountains themselves. Fire swallowed the world whole as the shockwave slammed violently into Iley mid-flight, sending both rider and ikran spiraling hard through smoke and debris. So’lek hit the rooftop brutally, rolling across burning metal before crashing against the railing hard enough to drive the air from his lungs.

Pain screamed through his shoulder, yet he barely felt it.

“No!”

The roar ripped from him, raw and animalistic, as he forced himself upward through the smoke, one arm shielding his face from the consuming heat. Fire climbed everywhere now. The entire upper platform had collapsed inward beneath the blast, steel twisting and groaning beneath flames while debris rained endlessly from above.

You were gone; your presence missing from the place he just found you. 

So’lek staggered through the inferno anyway.

“Sarentu!”

Nothing answered him beyond screaming metal.

Then he saw Mercer.

The human commander was being dragged backward through the smoke by surviving soldiers, one of his men shouting frantically while blood streamed down Mercer’s face. The moment So’lek recognized him, something murderous detonated inside his chest.

Mercer.

The man who took you.

The man who caged you.

The man who—

So’lek moved before thought could catch him, fury surging violently through every nerve as he reached for the blade at his side. He wanted Mercer’s blood beneath his hands. Wanted to rip the life from his body piece by piece until the mountains themselves remembered his screams.

But then another thought cut through the rage.

You.

The realization struck so painfully; it felt like another wound.

You were more important. More important than vengeance or rage.

So’lek hissed sharply through clenched teeth, forcing himself to tear his eyes away from Mercer despite every instinct clawing toward violence. His chest heaved violently as he searched the burning wreckage again.

Then he saw it.

Beyond the shattered railing where the explosion had torn through the platform, broken branches and crushed undergrowth carved a violent path down the mountainside into the forest below from your fall. The moment he saw it, So’lek ran.

He vaulted the ruined railing without hesitation as Iley screeched somewhere overhead, circling through smoke until his sharp whistle cut through the chaos. The ikran dove immediately toward him, wings folding tightly as she descended through the burning fog. So’lek caught the harness in one motion and hauled himself onto her back.

“Down!”

Iley hurled herself over the cliffside.

The forest rushed upward in blurred green and black beneath them as So’lek tracked the destruction left through the trees. Broken limbs. Blood against stone. Torn vines hanging where your body had crashed through the canopy. That's when he saw you. Crushed beneath twisted brush near the ravine floor.

Motionless.

“No no no—”

The words broke apart as he practically fell from Iley before she had fully landed, stumbling hard across the forest floor as he tore through the brush toward you. His knees slammed into the earth beside your body, hard enough to bruise.

You weren’t moving. Nothing was moving besides his frantic hands, tearing away the vines and sticks. 

Your skin was streaked with soot and blood, your chest terrifyingly still beneath torn clothing while one arm lay twisted awkwardly beneath you. Burn marks crawled across your side where the explosion had caught you.

For one horrible moment the world simply… stopped.

So’lek’s breathing shattered.

“No…” His voice cracked violently as his hands hovered uselessly over you, terrified to touch, terrified to confirm what his mind was already screaming at him. “No, no…”

His fingers finally found your face.

Warm.

Still warm.

Relief hit him so sharply it hurt, curling inside his chest with a sickening feeling. 

“Yawne…” The word collapsed from him brokenly as he gathered you carefully into his arms, cradling your body against his chest while panic and grief ripped through him all over again. “Stay with me. Stay with me.”

Your head lolled weakly against his shoulder as no response came. Fear unlike anything he had ever known consumed him whole then. Not battle fear or survival, but loss.

The unbearable realization that after crossing mountains and fire and death to reach you… he still might lose you anyway.

His forehead pressed hard against yours as his entire body shook.

“I found you,” he whispered desperately, his voice splintering apart. “Please… Eywa.”

The battle still raged somewhere above them, distant now beneath the ringing in So’lek’s ears. Gunfire cracked through the mountains in uneven bursts while flames painted the fog in violent shades of orange and gold, but none of it reached him fully. Not anymore. The world had narrowed into the weight of your body in his arms and the unbearable terror clawing through his chest.

So’lek pressed one shaking hand against the side of your face again, desperate for movement, for breath, for anything that would silence the horror building inside him. Blood streaked across his fingers immediately, mixing with soot and ash as he carefully pushed tangled hair from your face.

“You cannot leave me." The word broke apart in his throat. “Do you hear me? You cannot.”

His voice sounded unfamiliar. Raw. Fractured.

He had crossed mountains for you. Burned through grief and rage and fear until there was nothing left inside him except the need to reach you. And now that he finally had, now that you were here against his chest, warm and real, he could feel death lingering close enough to touch.

His forehead pressed shakily against yours.

The confession tore from somewhere deep and wounded inside him, stripped bare beneath the panic. So’lek’s hands trembled openly now as he searched your injuries, pressing carefully against the blood soaking your side while trying desperately to remember every healing technique Ri’nela had ever taught him. His breathing refused to steady enough to think clearly.

Something warm struck your cheek.

Tears.

The realization shattered something else inside him entirely.

So’lek had not cried since he was a child.

Yet grief and relief had hollowed him so completely these past weeks that now emotion poured from him uncontrollably, silent and shaking as he held you tighter against his chest. He buried his face briefly against your hair, breathing you in beneath smoke and blood and ash.

Your lashes fluttered weakly, and So’lek froze, breath catching for a brief moment.

A strained breath escaped you, barely more than air, but it hit him harder than any blade ever could. His head snapped downward immediately, hands tightening around you with terrified relief.

“Sarentu?”

Your vision swam when your eyes finally forced themselves open. Firelight blurred through the trees overhead in fractured pieces while pain pulsed violently through every inch of your body. For one disoriented moment, you thought perhaps Eywa had finally taken pity on you.

Then you heard him.

“Stay with me,” So’lek whispered desperately, his voice breaking apart again the instant your eyes found his. "Stay with me.”

Your breath caught.

He looked ruined.

Soot covered his skin and armor alike, smoke curling through loose braids while tears streaked openly down his face without restraint. His hands shook where they held you. You had never seen him like this before. Never seen So’lek—the warrior feared by both sky people and Na’vi alike—look so utterly undone.

“All this…” you rasped weakly, trying for humor despite the blood on your tongue. “For me?”

A broken sound escaped him somewhere between a laugh and a sob.

“Yes,” he breathed instantly. “Always for you.”

Your hand lifted weakly toward his face, trembling from the effort until he caught it immediately, pressing your palm hard against his cheek like something sacred. His eyes shut the moment your skin touched his.

You felt him lean into it.

“I told him,” you whispered slowly, fighting through the dizziness pulling at you again. “Told Mercer… you would come for me.”

So’lek’s forehead dropped against yours once more, a trembling breath leaving him as his entire body seemed to finally crack beneath the weight of everything he had carried alone.

“There was nowhere in this world Eywa could have hidden you from me.”

The words settled warmly through the ache in your chest as your fingers curled weakly against his jaw, eyes tracing every exhausted line of his face. “You look terrible.”

That finally pulled a real laugh from him, soft and broken though it was. He shook his head once, overcome again as he pressed another desperate kiss against your forehead.

“You nearly died.”

“So did you it seems,” you whispered back.

For a moment neither of you spoke.

The mountains burned around you. War still thundered in the distance. Yet down here beneath the trees, held tightly in So’lek’s arms, the world suddenly felt impossibly small and quiet.

His gaze dropped slowly to your mouth then, hesitation flickering there for only the briefest second before emotion overwhelmed restraint entirely. One hand slid shakily against the side of your neck as he kissed you like a man dragged half-dead from drowning.

It wasn’t careful or restrained. It was truly desperate as every ounce of grief and relief and unbearable love was poured into it all at once. His lips trembled against yours as he pulled you closer despite the fear of hurting you, breathing you in like he still could not believe you were real beneath his hands.

You kissed him back just as fiercely as your injuries allowed.

The realization hit all over again as your forehead rested against his afterward, both of you breathing unevenly while the fires burned beyond the ravine. You were both alive by the will of Eywa. By the will of your trust and your bond. 

“I thought I lost you." So’lek admitted quietly.

You swallowed hard against the emotion tightening your throat before brushing your thumb gently beneath his eye, catching the tears still clinging there.

“You found me,” you whispered.

And this time, he wouldn’t let you go. 

Taglist (so sorry for the delay love you)