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#war sky/home sky series
sshbpodcast · 5 months
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Character Spotlight: Christine Chapel
By Ames
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We’ve hit upon all the main stars of The Original Series, but no list would be complete without giving a fair mention to the woman who stood beside the show, Majel Barrett. While we still wish in our hearts of hearts that the Number One we met in “The Cage” and “The Menagerie” got a fair shake, we are still glad that Gene’s main squeeze was reborn as the quippy and competent Nurse Chapel.
So join us this week on A Star to Steer Her By as we finish off our TOS character spotlights with a bunch of highlights and only a few lowlights on what’s probably going to be our shortest installment of this series. There just wasn’t enough stretching of the character moments to do as we did for, say, our Scotty or Sulu posts. Pick up your medical tricorders to scan on below and follow along in this week’s podcast discussion (jump to 58:16). Needless to say, Majel probably did more on the show than just Gene. Take that as you will. ;)
[Images © CBS/Paramount]
Best Moments
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I know he’s alive down there, Captain Very early in the series in “What Are Little Girls Made of?”, Chapel’s backstory of joining the Enterprise as a way to find her lost fiancé, Roger Korby, is established. And it’s a testament to her character that not only is she right that he was still alive (in some form), but she also gets to convince Ruk the android not to kill Kirk AND make the choice to stay on the Enterprise after everything goes typically sideways.
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Plomeek soup for the soul While you’ll see in just a moment that “Amok Time” also features some of the more tired and less positive aspects of Chapel’s character, we’ve got to admit that her dutifulness in trying to get Spock to eat during his pon farr was benevolent of her. She goes so far as to whip up some Vulcan plomeek soup to keep her patient well, little good that it ended up doing.
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Sound it out I’m still minorly horrified by Nomad taking Uhura’s memories in “The Changeling,” and we’re left not knowing if or how she gets back to her normal self. But one thing’s for sure: she’s got a caring and patient nurse helping along the way, as we see Chapel reteaching the blank-slated Uhura how to read in English. It’s quite sweet, if you don’t think about how horrifying it is.
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It has one word on it: Eat I could take a second to gripe that, between Chapel and Rand, the women of the show are very often seen just bringing the men their dinner like they’re waitresses instead of equal crewmembers. Or I could highlight how Chapel cleverly tricks a moping Garrovick into eating in “Obsession” by telling him McCoy’s prescription was a tape that just said “Eat,” so I’ll do that.
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The pain will help me to consciousness We joke on the podcast that it was clear that someone(s) on the show was clearly into some kinky stuff, and it shines through in episodes like “A Private Little War” when Nurse Chapel is compelled to bitchslap a half-conscious Spock around until he wakes up, as is the Vulcan way. Or at least, as is someone on the writing staff’s dirty little fetish.
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We shared consciousness together I’m sure now that Strange New Worlds is filling in a lot of the Chapel-Spock relationship, there are a ton more shippers out there for them, but back in the day, the best we got was this moment in “Return to Tomorrow” when Sargon put Spock’s consciousness into Chapel’s body to get Henoch out of the Vulcan. And Chapel was all too glad to be Spock’s vessel in a not entirely creepy way. Only a little bit creepy!
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I am a nurse first and a member of the crew of the Enterprise second When Nurse Chapel learns that McCoy is dying of xenopolycythemia in “For the World is Hollow and I Have Touched the Sky,” her resolve is to help him to live, while he seems to take it in stride that he is destined to die. She encourages him to “Please, give yourself every minute” of his year left in this world, and I’d like to think that that helped him get through it. Natira helped too, wink wink.
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The spider catches a fly While we included moments from “The Tholian Web” in almost everyone else’s Worst Moments lists, Chapel actually got a good moment from this otherwise negative episode! When another of McCoy’s assistants has succumbed to the weird space occurrence and attacks him, Nurse Chapel calmly grabs a hypo and tranqs that guy, like a badass!
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Now all I want is to crawl away and die While I found Uhura’s reaction to the forced kiss with Kirk in “Plato’s Stepchildren” to be uncomfortable in an entirely different way, the Chapel-Spock kiss is exactly as uncomfortable as it’s supposed to be. Chapel’s pining after Spock is used as a weapon against her in this moment of torture. A worse show would imply that she’s finally getting what she wants, but she makes it clear that without consent, there is no enjoyment and it’s commendable to state that so directly.
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I heard Spock’s voice Unlike my reaction to the different women’s scenes in “Plato’s Stepchildren,” I must say that all the women in “The Lorelei Signal” are absolutely on point. While Uhura takes command of the ship, Chapel serves as de facto CMO in the absence of all the men. And what’s more: she uses that weird bond she has with Spock (perhaps lingering from “Return to Tomorrow”?) to save him from the temptresses!
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And they've probably redesigned the whole sickbay By The Motion Picture, we see that Chapel found time to learn a new trade, as she’s an MD by the time McCoy arrives. Was it that the writers seem to incorrectly think that nurses are on the same job track as medical doctors, just a lower rung on the career ladder? Probably. But we can read it as her changing jobs because she wanted to do something new, and that’s a more exciting interpretation for this change.
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Look for the helpers. You will always find people that are helping. Blink and you can miss it, but Christine Chapel in The Voyage Home is busy coordinating relief efforts at Starfleet Command during the whale probe attack. She gets like one line and you only catch quick glimpses of her, but it’s an excellent touch to show that her character is there and focused on doing the thing that she’s been known for all series long: helping people.
Worst Moments
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You hide it, but you do have feeling Onto some of the lousier things Chapel does in the show, and you’ll find that most are related to her one-sided relationship with Spock. We first see it in “The Naked Time” (before we know that BOTH of them are engaged) when she dumps all her love on him while space-drunk. And it’s a little sad and pathetic knowing she’ll never receive it back [in this series], but also just annoying that it’s the main characteristic the writers ever give her. Sigh.
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A mechanical geisha would be no more difficult While we did include some moments from “What Are Little Girls Made of?” above in our Best Moments list, there’s some bad to go around as well! Did you notice just how jealous Chapel immediately got of Andrea the moment she laid eyes on her? Before she knows Andrea is a robot, she’s immediately grouchy when Andrea calls Roger by his first name. And afterwards, Chapel is flat out hostile to the poor, jumpsuited thing!
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You never give up hoping, do you? Now for all the times in “Amok Time” Chapel utterly degrades herself because she has a crush on Mr. Spock. Bones jokes about it when she brings him the soup, for one thing. For another, there’s an entirely weird scene in which she goes to tell him they’ve changed course to Vulcan, but he’s still pon farring around and she starts crying. And to top it off, she just had to be present on the bridge (for no reason!) to witness T’Pring on the viewscreen and learn that he’s engaged, just to rub salt in the wound. And then she has no lines the rest of the episode! Poor Christine.
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Spock will be yours forever One last time to roll our eyes at how contrived it’s been all series long, and now into The Animated Series, to watch Chapel swooning over Spock so much. So much so that she’s easily swayed by Harry’s Mudd’s offer of some of his love potion in “Mudd’s Passion.” She falls for it, and when it turns out to be the real thing, she barely even gets to enjoy having Spock all to herself!
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Since when did we even have ID badges? She makes such an ass of herself that I’ve broken “Mudd’s Passion” into two entries! She is so distracted (and a little drugged) by Mudd that he steals her ID badge. She almost makes up for it by capturing him in the shuttlebay, but instead ends up drugging the whole ship by accident AND gets herself kidnapped and forced into a pretty pathetic damsel in distress role for Spock to heroically save. Oh Chapel, this is all beneath you.
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Plenty of fish in the sea One final ditzy moment from Nurse Chapel, and it’s in the clownishly inconsistent “The Terratin Incident.” Sure, everyone in that episode is made to look silly because they’re shrinking down to the size of cockroaches (or smaller depending on the scene), but Chapel nearly drowns in a fish tank after tripping over a sewing needle. Why a sewing needle was next to a fish tank might be the stupidest question yet.
— And that’s it! We couldn’t see stretching the list further than that since you didn’t get to see Chapel do much else in TOS, TAS, or the films. Keep your eyes fixed here because next we’re going to be repeating the same experiment with all the TNG main characters, as well as keeping up with our watchthrough of all of Enterprise over on SoundCloud or wherever you podcast. We also keep all our logs up on Facebook and Twitter. Now eat your plomeek soup! Doctor’s orders!
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forever--darling · 1 year
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one of us | neteyam x avatar!reader
summary: when a person's life hangs in the balance, sometimes there is only one thing to do, one thing to ask of the great mother. a consciousness transfer, but the question remains: are you strong enough to pass through the eye of eywa? lots of feelings emerge as the only option left becomes the sole possibility
pairings: neteyam x avatar!reader
word count: 11.8k
warnings/notes: finally, swearing, major angst, mention of sky people, mention of death, mention of an afterlife, lots of feelings (all mostly sad), crying, more heartbreak, with sad fluff, we're so close to the end (2/3)
series masterlist | one of us: part seven | requests are currently open for now
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All energy is only borrowed, never permanent, and one day you have to give it back.
It hadn’t taken long for Neytiri and Jake to make it to the camp, the pathway completely imprinted in his memory. He couldn’t talk the whole ride as the only thought that seemed to reach his mind was a suffocating amount of guilt. The same guilt that once had rotted away in his stomach years ago when he was still a dream walker, when the sky people had long since invaded Pandora, and when he was still working under Quaritch’s terms.
That guilt almost killed him when he gained the trust of the Omatikaya people. When Home Tree was destroyed, Grace was killed, and the great war brought many warriors home to their Great Mother. Not many were sparred and those that had looked to him for the answers, the mighty Toruk Makto. It wasn’t easy and often it took guidance from many to get him to where he was today but now here he was in that forest, that same perilous feeling overtaking his senses. 
He had known you were sick, not the full extent of it or how long it had been going on but he knew. Which meant as an adult, who had been watching over you, he was partly responsible. Responsible for the outcome of your life, the effect it had on his children, on his son, on his wife, on the people. He had let other commitments cloud his mind; the sky people, the new technology they were bringing back to the planet, and how they were getting closer to the village every day. He decided to focus on those things rather than checking in on you. Whatever happened he was partly responsible. As they stopped near the lab, the grey confines of it taunting him, he also knew where he was responsible, Max and Norm were too — if not more. 
Jake slid off of the direhorse, Neytiri behind him as he approached the large steel door coated in scratches and dents — it somehow stood in this environment and within these elements. Neytiri stiffened at the sight of it, every part of her screaming to rush back into the forest away from the very place she deemed as evil and foreign. She had no motivation to step foot into the metal box but the thought of you, the real you left her heart clenching in her chest.
Worry was the sole reason why she followed her husband, clinging to his back. It was that along with the fact that Jake would need someone to keep him grounded. As he stared at it, the cage it had become, he felt all of his frustration come to the surface as the terrified thought crossed his mind that you were dead. Raising his clenched fist to the door, he knocked, the loud sound echoing across the trees. 
The first compacted door opened and they moved inside. Neytiri felt her anxieties heighten as they stepped fully into a small compressing box. Jake stared forward through the glass of the second door, gaze locked on a human man standing in a white lab coat near the keypad for the door. He was so small, so weak, so angering. As the air decompressed in the box, the scientist clicked the keypad and the second door slid open.
Jake didn’t waste a moment. He stalked in there as if he owned the place. It felt so strange under his large blue feet after having once rolled across these tiled floors. The sight of the lab brought so many memories back to him; the link pods, the screens — so many memories, most of which he didn’t find comforting. 
Max appeared on the other side of the room in his own lab coat, a worried kink in his brow. At the sight of him, Jake snarled not afraid to use his intimidating statue as he walked across the room, “Where is she?” 
The demand was sharp, cold, and uncommon to be directed at Max, as he was one of Jake’s closest confidants for almost twenty years. Max blinked in surprise up at the Olo’eyktan, and at the sight of Jake in this space, he got his own flashbacks of the first day. The first day, all those years ago that Jake got his avatar. Oh, how things had changed since then. 
“Where is she?” he asked again, tone just as cold as it was before.
“She’s in the back room, but—” 
The two Na’vi’s pushed by Max, bending down as they moved through the doorway into a smaller more compact hallway. Max hurried after them in a state of panic as Jake refused to shut his mouth, all of his fears taking flight in ugly ways.
“What, you think I wouldn’t have realized what was going on? In case you have forgotten this isn’t my first rodeo. I used to do this and an avatar doesn’t just collapse like that unless a link process is interrupted or something is fucking wrong. So, tell me what the fuck happened!” 
The room opened up in front of them with a single curtain pulled over the area to provide more privacy. Jake could see the outline of Norm’s body behind the curtain bent down and saying something. Max unable to fully find the words to calm Jake down or provide an explanation other than the truth, plucked the blue curtain into his grasp and pulled it aside.
Norm’s head snapped up in their direction, his eyes widening slightly at the site of the two tall Na’vi within the lab. He was wrapping a blanket around your exhausted frame and as the couple’s eyes fell down to the wrangled weak body, both of their shoulders dropped in devastation. The harsh furrow in Jake’s brow fell away and he found himself gripping onto the doorway to stay upright. The sight of you brought an image of Grace in her final hours to the forefront of his mind and it was difficult to swallow.
You sat, your body stuck to the mattress, slumped down as if you couldn’t even sit up. Two or three blankets were pulled up to your chest where wires stuck out connecting to monitors nearby. Jake's ears flickered at the sound of their beeping and found that the numbers of your heart rate and blood pressure should have been stronger.
IVS were hanging up beside you, the large needle lined into your arm. Your skin was ashen, sunken in, all color completely drained with large purple circles pressed along the skin below your eyes. They were barely open and he wouldn’t have believed you were actually alive if it wasn’t for the twitch in your bony finger and the steady beeping of the monitor beside you. 
“She had a seizure while in the link pod. We were able to get them to stop but she is very weak,” Norm answered and stepped back from your crumbled form. One that felt less like you every day. 
“Oh, Great Mother,” Neytiri found herself crying as she moved forward and fell to her knees at the side of the bed. 
She wished to be anywhere but there, but the sight of you had masked all of the discomfort and the rage that was interlaced deep within her bones. Instead, all she could feel was the ache in her chest from the broken looks of her children at your avatar form that had been completely motionless in her son’s arms. She felt herself aching for the soul that was slipping through the fingers of Pandora. Her eyes took in the unfamiliar but familiar face and cried, tears welling up in her widened eyes. She found herself scanning your nose, your closed eyes, the high lift of your cheeks, and the shape of your jaw. It was you, without a doubt. 
Jake was able to find his voice again, this time with a newly added edge to it, “Why was she in the link pod in the first place?” 
“What?” Norm’s eyes narrowed in confusion, crossing his arms over his chest. 
“Why was she in there?” Jake was becoming hostile at that point. “If you knew she was sick, if you knew it was this bad, how could you let her keep doing this? Especially with the strain that it already was putting on her weak body.”
“Ma’Jake, please,” Neytiri asked, her voice gently sweeping through the tension of the room, gaining the attention of his rigid eyes. She tilted her head towards you, and they all watched as your head lulled from side to side at the many voices that filled the room. Your breaths were shallow, taking up too much energy that you couldn’t even open your eyes. 
Jake lowered his voice slightly but the edge remained as he glanced back and forth from Norm to Max, “You should have stopped her.” 
“You don’t think we tried? You don’t think we didn’t say something to her every day, warning her of the risks, demanding her to stop?” Max became defensive then as he stepped closer to the towering figure of one of his closest friends. His eyes narrowed, the same worry that filled Jake’s, reflected in his own. “She is not a child anymore.” 
“You mean she’s not your child,” the Olo’eyktan corrected and just like that, all previous feelings were ripped from the room, leaving it in painful silence. 
Both Max and Norm’s heads dropped for a moment as a thought crossed their mind — maybe they hadn’t tried hard enough. Maybe they should have powered down the system even if you ended up hating them. Maybe they should have done more to protect you even when you were never their child, their full responsibility to bear. Maybe just maybe even though you grew up before their eyes into a grown woman, they should have taken into account that it didn’t mean to cut you loose from support and guardianship altogether. 
Max shook his head, almost as if he was going to regret what he was about to say, “No, she’s not.” 
“She may not be yours or technically a kid anymore but when she is living under your roof, you need to have some responsibility. When she is living under your roof, she is still a child,” Jake sighed, feeling the anger start to dissipate as he sent another glance at you, at your human body. At the very body, he hadn’t seen in almost two years, not like this, not this small, this different. You had grown and would be nineteen in the next year and it showed — you had become an adult under everyone's noses. If only you had the ability and the time to make it. “How much time does she have?” 
“We can’t know for sure but based on her state and how weak she is… Weeks? A month or two maybe?” Norm admitted, the state of how he found you in the link pod still pressed firmly into the front of his mind. Your faraway gaze, rigid body, and trembling lips. Your lips shook as if you were asking for time to kiss you and grant you treatment. You were barely there and laying in that damn bed, you were barely there. 
“She doesn’t have a few months, not with the sky people invading. We could have serious trouble on our hands in two months. The sky people are coming, they are getting closer every day and I need a plan. A plan to protect my family, my people, and my land. I need a plan and I am not going to put a sick young woman in the line of fire. I won’t.”
Jake shook his head and stepped further into the room, looking around at the medical supplies and the neutral-colored walls. The sterile smell filled his nose. It all reminded him of the V.A. hospital when there was a big hole blown through the middle of his life. That’s what the lab reminded him of and it sent a shiver down his spine. You couldn't stay there, not like this. He wouldn’t allow it because whatever the fuck they were doing wasn’t doing shit. Even with medicine and science on their side, it had done nothing. He wasn’t about to lose another person because of his actions — he wouldn’t. 
“She can’t stay here,” he suddenly said, eyes set on his wife, “We can’t leave her here. I won’t.” 
Max stepped forward trying to get closer to you but Neytiri stood blocking him, “Jake, you can’t just—”
“You’ve done enough.” 
The two scientists’ mouths dropped, and both of their glares widened at the tall Olo’eyktan — a man who day one had never thrown caution to the wind in his life but since becoming a leader had taken on a new role to be deliberate in his actions, think accordingly, and communicate in a way to not piss other people off. It was like that persona was gone from that room for a moment and instead it was an overprotective parent who thought they had all the answers. He was bossy, haywire, and everything that resembled a father.
Somehow his cold tone and his rapid decision weren’t justifiable enough for Max. He had seen the impossible, and as a scientist, he had detested and forced himself to not believe it. Max had seen the impossible in Jake, in the consciousness transfer, in the balance of the world that had managed to change one man's life. He had seen the impossible with the Omatikaya people but at that moment with your life hanging in that very balance, he could only look to science, in the concreteness that was medicine.
“Jake, listen to me, she is sick. This isn’t just another dress-up game where she is going to run off into the forest to become something else. She won’t survive this.” 
“Are you fucking serious?” he snapped, eyes narrowing even further until they resembled golden crescents like the morning sun that crept through their tent every morning, “This has never been a game and you know that. To me, it wasn't and it sure as hell isn't to her. If you saw her out there, the way she is when she is in that body, you would know that. Except that I think a part of you already does, knows how much she wants it, and that scares the hell out of you. Especially since there is nothing else you can do for her, and it sucks. It really does... but do you hear me when I say we can do something? The people can save her.” 
“What like you saved Grace,” Max shot back, the words cruel and unnecessary and he watched as Jake’s face went slack. For a moment the short scientist reveled in the image, “I know it has happened, the unexplainable. Because what you witnessed... what happened to you was the unexplainable, but Jake that's what? A one in a million. You're the exception, we all know that, but she's not you. I don't like the odds, not when I have seen it. Her virus, her illness, and I am deciding to combat it with medicine. I am choosing science’s side.” 
Neytiri felt her teeth bare, sink into her lower lip, fangs glimmering from the white lights of the room. As a growl left her throat, she stepped forward protectively towards her mate, “And your medicine has done nothing. It’s done nothing!” 
At that point with two pointed gazes locked down on him, Max couldn’t help but glance your way knowing that every word they spoke was true. Any worse, you could be slipping away, out of their fingers, by the end of the week. If you hadn’t been getting better with the months of treatment they had been doing, the antibiotic and the fluids, what else could they do to help you? There wasn’t another option, and he knew right then science or not this was your last chance.
Norm looked from you to Jake and within that mutual stare, they shared an understanding, a silent understanding. Stepping forward, his palm fell to Max’s shoulder, “This is her only chance."
"Norm—"
"She’s not going to get better because she hasn't yet and you know that. This is her last chance. And yes, god forbid, Eywa forbid that it doesn’t work, that we somehow lose her... at least it will be on her own terms and in a place, she’d want to spend her last moments.” 
The words everyone had been avoiding were out in the air and it struck a chord, one that left them all in silence and complete denial. Only, because no one expected this. When you had been given your avatar six months prior, no one thought to think this is where you would end up, chained to a bed with the only thing to save you being that body. No one thought either that you would have fallen in love with the forest, the people, and the eldest son of the Olo'eyktan either, but you did. It happened. It all had happened and now it was beginning to unravel in front of them and suddenly they were being faced with a choice.
You were dying and the sky people were coming. Another war was soon to take place and Jake and Neytiri were making plans for the future Olo'eyktan. Neteyam would be Olo'eyktan one day whether you would be there to see it or not. It all was happening and none of them would have thought that when it was, you would be in the middle of a whispered conversation with the Mother herself.
Max wiped his eyes from behind his glasses and sent one last longing look to you. You once had been the little girl who'd sit on his lap for hours staring at a digital image of an avatar's brain with complete awe. Now there you lay, all grown up and possibly about to get the life you had always wanted. Your choice had been made up about the life you wanted as soon as you had entered that avatar body. And your choice would be his choice.
“Just, if you’re going to do it… The consciousness transfer, do it sooner rather than later. If you want her to survive it, you will do it as soon as you can. She's already lost a lot of energy.” 
It was the last thing anyone said and as Jake nodded to Max, reassuringly, his tough-guy act dropped immediately. Almost like they had come to a mutual understanding: one father to another.
From that moment on, there was a continuous movement of people in and out of the room. All bustling as they worked to disconnect your monitors, pull out the IVS, wrap your body up in blankets to keep you warm against the cold air, and secure a mask tightly over your face. Then just like that, you were ready and leaving as if it was always how it was destined to be. You, leaving. Norm and Max each took you in for one last time as Jake and Neytiri exited the lab, both hoping they would never have to be there again.
Jake couldn’t help but stare down at you, so small in his arms, so unlike the warrior he had gotten the privilege to watch the last six months. You had transformed just as he once had, gaining the wings like an Ikran, and you would fly away, not daring to look back. Evident in the lingering glances you sent his son and how you absorbed every part of the forest, you would give anything to be transferred into your other body. Then more so as with each night you spent in the forest, in your avatar body, the longer you would stay awake. Like you were hoping to forever prolong the linking process to that one still moment in time. Now, after all this time, you could have it.
As Jake climbed on his direhorse, he heard the shift in your breath along with seeing the small tremble in your body — the first sign of movement he had seen at all. Glancing down at you again, he found your eyes softly staring up at him, through heavy lids. He glanced at Neytiri then back down at you, taking your tiny cold hand in his own. He stared at his five fingers and compared them to yours as your soft voice filled his ears. 
“Don’t let Neteyam see me like this.” 
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“She’s very weak,” Mo’at expressed, honestly as her fingers danced across your closed eyes.
From the moment you were brought back to the village, in your human form, it was like you were finally awake. Finally, seeing the world as more than a recurrent fever dream. It was a world you had only ever witnessed through another pair of eyes and someone else's skin. Somehow the forest had become so much more than a training ground to you over that time. However, you realized then, that no matter how many times you had seen it before, it would never top being able to see it with your own eyes. The ones you had been born with.
It was a dream that had been painted on your soul from the moment you had come onto this planet and as you stared up at the luminescent green foliage while you rode on the back of the direhorse, you felt as if your life was complete. Like Eywa was watching over you, reaching out her arms and promising you that whatever happened you would be okay.
Staring up past the trees to the black-coated sky littered with stars and planets, you felt a new kind of peace wash over you. Your breath had evened out and you blinked slowly, entirely entranced by the skyline scattered with constellations. The constellations that resembled the ivory spots speckled across his nose and his body. That's all you could think about — the ivory-speckled sky and how it reminded you of the glow that would overtake him at night.
Please, Great Mother, protect Neteyam and his ivory-scattered face. 
As soon as you got back, Neytiri distracted the kids, allowing Jake to get you to Mo’at without anyone seeing. Partly to prevent panic from appearing in the village, but mostly to stick to your one and only request. Don’t let Neteyam see me like this. Those six words served as a confirmation to Jake. A confirmation that once again only served the greater suspicion that there was more going on under the surface. Deeper feelings were involved here whether the two of you had admitted it, and Jake wasn't sure how he hadn't seen it before. But maybe he had.
The lingering gazes. The light touches. Neteyam sneaking out of the tent at night, for months. His attitude suddenly improving. He was always cautious around you when Jake was close by as if he was afraid of the Olo'eyktan connecting the dots from the softness he displayed to you or the look in his eyes, which was less than innocent. It all had been there but for months, Jake Sully had been turning a blind eye to it all. Despite his duty as Olo'eyktan to accept the arranged marriage that would be pushed onto his son along with all the other responsibilities, he let the interactions and the feelings play out in plain sight.
Now, he was going to willingly do what any Olo'eyktan would and protect the last wishes of a member of his clan. He was making a split decision based on the six words he never thought you would have openly admitted. That it was and always had been Neteyam for you. How it was the one son of his that had been promised a throne and a chosen future mate, the one son you couldn't have willingly. Somehow it filled him with a sense of deja vu, as if when he saw you he was looking at a mere reflection of the person he used to be. Alongside that, a repeated history. The outsider and the chief's chosen child. Somehow under all of his turning a blind eye, you and Neteyam had not only become Jake and Neytiri but were being torn apart for it.
For a while, Jake stood in the corner of the room, Neytiri appearing after a while closing off the tent from any onlookers. The majority who would have been her own children. She stood next to Jake, her hand comfortingly finding a place on his shoulder.
They had watched as Mo'at closed her eyes and let the feelings of Eywa guide her. She took in many deep breaths as mumbled words escaped her mouth in the form of tongues. Then just as quickly as it had begun, her eyes were reopening, leaving her meeting with Eywa as Jake liked to call it. She glanced at the couple before her and spouted what he could only hear as bullshit. She’s very weak. 
“Well help her goddamn it!” 
“Jake!” Neytiri hissed as the tone of his voice emitted not only a glare on her face but a chip in her tone. 
From outside the tent, four dark statues lingered in the dark, near the side of the healing tent. Light poured out of the bottom bathing Kiri and Lo’ak’s faces in slivers of warm light. They lay on their fronts, chins leaning along their hands as they held their breaths, desperate to unravel what they were looking at. They could only see the outline of their grandmother, the Tsahik’s side from the confined view they had. With Spider and Tuk sitting on the other side of Lo'ak, the eight-year-old hugged her knees to her chest in a state of confusion. When her parents left, she had spent the whole time berating her older siblings with questions about you — were you okay? What had exactly happened? Were you coming back?
All questions with answers none of the older siblings had.
Neteyam crouched on the other side of Kiri, leaning his ear close to the side of the tent, trying to understand the mumblings from inside. His heart had shattered and he felt as if he had been cut open, exposing everything he was feeling to the gaping air. It made his stomach twist at the thought and he was starting to feel sick.
The sight of your avatar collapsing in his arms was still very present in his mind — as well as how his father had avoided him the second he returned forbidding anyone from seeing you, the other you. Your human body and the current body that held everything that made you, you. It was hard to imagine you any other way. For six straight months, he was memorizing every detail of your blue features just in case his golden irises would be deracinated from his face. Now all he could think about was what you really looked like, what you were born to look like.
Lo’ak leaned closer to his sister, voice breaking and coming out in low mumbles, “What did she say?” 
“Shh,” she hushed back, bumping her brother in the side, harsher than she intended too. 
“She’s weak, that’s what Mo’at is saying,” Neteyam spoke up softly, the words acting as needles as they ripped holes into his skin, “She doesn’t know if they can save her.” 
Kiri glanced up at Neteyam and felt her shoulders drop disappointedly as his expression came to light for her. How pain-stricken he was and how utterly shattered his voice sounded as it echoed in her ears. She felt Eywa there at that moment, filling her entire body, as she witnessed firsthand how strongly her brother felt for you. It had blinded him out of nowhere and a pit formed in his stomach at how sudden it all was. Over time, that dread and that fear had drifted off into the wind as if they had rolled off his back while flying through the sky.
Then there was you. How you had become a slight wreck over your feelings for the future Olo'eyktan. She could still feel your own confession lingering in the back of her mind. How shy you had gotten, how ashamed you had been when she had found out you liked Neteyam, possibly loved him.
Somehow under all of the excruciating lectures, stubborn-filled disputes, and contemptuous glares, two souls had found one another, deep within the forest under the phosphorescent green of the trees. 
She blinked and looked away, letting the prospect of the two of you fade away, leaving nothing but an imprint of dust in its wake. They all instead directed their attention back to the tent, ears twitching in unison and tails swishing anxiously as their father’s voice filled the air. 
“She’s dying, don’t you see that? One of our own is dying,” Jake pleaded then, his anger melted away like icicles in the warm temperature and all that was left was a puddle of desperation and fear. “So, please help her. Do the consciousness transfer. Do it, if it means the possibility of saving her life."
As Mo’at glanced down from your shivering human form to the empty blue vessel beside you, she knew what he was asking of her. He was right and it would have to be in Eywa’s hands now. The very hands you had tried to get yourself in weeks ago when you appeared in the doorway of her tent pleading and begging for her to consider. To think about your request, ask Eywa to guide you and herself to an answer. Tsahik, without much consideration or even listening to Eywa's plan or will, denied your request. Even when Jake Sully, Toruk Makto, had once come to her with the same request, and even when she saw so much of him in you, including a strong heart, she denied the request.
When Mo’at looked at you, she saw a young woman. A young woman with all the reasons and desires in the world to ask for this request and to ask for the opportunity to change her life. Your soul's existence depended on the opportunity to live life fully as a Na’vi, and That’s why Tsahik couldn’t accept it. Your whole life.
A young and prestigious life she didn’t want to be cut short not when there was still so much time. She feared that Eywa’s will wouldn’t be what was hoped by the rest of the clan, her family, so she denied you. For fear of taking the light out of your eyes as well as the light out of her grandchildren. 
“She’s weak so we must do it tonight. The more strength she has the better,” she finally spoke looking from Jake to her dutiful daughter, “Alert the village. We need everyone, do you understand? We need all the support we can for this. An hour and then we go.” 
The couple, the clan's leaders, the two everyone looked to in a crisis felt the weight on their shoulders deepen. Anxiety formed, pushing down on their tracheas as it all began to feel too real too fast. But panic couldn't happen. Freaking out couldn't happen. There wasn't enough time for it and there sure as hell wasn't room for it.
Jake took Neytiri’s hand in his and walked towards the entrance of the tent, all strength, and will of his own feelings lost. As they stepped out, the tent's flap falling shut behind them, a rush of air fell from his mouth. Neytiri, able to feel his energy deep within her bones, wrapped her arms around his broad torso. Her chin found a place against his shoulder and they stared forward at the rest of the village, the forest, their home, and everything in between. They listened to one another’s hearts and stood there for a brief moment, letting their breaths linger into one before Neytiri unwrapped herself around him. 
As she did, they both were startled by the sound of rustling as well as a soft groan of a very familiar prominent voice. They shared a look with one another, communicating the same conclusion as they stepped around the tent to where the sound had come from. It wasn't a surprise to find their four children squatted and laying around in the dirt, ears pressed close to the tent. Suddenly all their movements stopped as they felt the shadows looming over them, blocking the moonlight and concealing them in darkness.
All four heads then tilted cautiously and were met by the scariness of their mother, who stood with a hip popped out and arms crossed over her chest. Her stare only hardened further when she found her youngest, no more than eight years old, sitting there, a pained expression on the child's face. Neytiri looked over her shoulder at Jake but he merely shrugged as if he wasn't surprised at all by the sight in front of him. He held his arms to her; a silent signal that he was leaving the situation for her to handle.
Inhaling, her lips parted, ready to scold them not only for eavesdropping on a conversation not meant for their ears but for letting Tuk hear every word, something she could barely process at her age. Before Neytiri could get a word out, she found her youngest staring up at her, large eyes widened with fear and sadness, bottom lip quivering.
Tuk’s eyes filled with tears and slowly began to fall, drenching her innocent face, “Is Y/N going to be okay? What happened to her?” 
The other three older siblings’ bodies stiffened unwillingly, ears dropping back while their own theories and assumptions were formed. But even with their thoughts and concerns, they all found themselves peering up to their mother, who seemed to be all-knowing and often had the right thing to say in moments like this. It was a mother's intuition and they all stared at her, asking for an answer that was far better than any of their own. They all held their breath as they watched the glare melt away completely from her face while she opened her arms welcomingly for her youngest child. 
“Oh, my prrnen (baby),” Neytiri cooed as Tuk reached up to be pulled up into her mother's arms. As her small innocent face met her mother's neck, her tear bubbles collapsed, letting her salty tears fall freely upon Neytiri's skin. “Know this, that whatever happens, Y/N will be okay. She will be at peace one way or another. I don't know what's going to happen, but that is not something for us to worry about right now. Our Great Mother has a plan and whatever comes of it, everything will be okay. Do you understand me, maite (my daughter)?” 
Hands rubbing softly at Tuk’s back, her gaze fell to the rest of her children and their anxious eyes. They looked to her as if a mother could solve the world’s most significant problems and she wished at that moment she could. She wished she could take all of your pain, all of your sickness, all of the limitations your body held away. She wanted more than anything with her children’s eyes boring up at her that she could promise you life to prevent their suffering.
“The ritual is in an hour,” Jake said then, gaining the three older children’s attention as he tried to wrap his head around how he wanted to handle this situation. He couldn’t bear the idea of them being at the consciousness transfer and watching with the possibility that it wouldn't work. He couldn’t watch every hope and every fiber of light in their bodies fade away at the sight of what could be a final send-off. “Whatever you need to do, I suggest you do it now because there is a chance you won't be able to later.” 
“Can we see her?” Kiri asked then, sitting up to hug her knees to her chest, voice pleading, “Please? Can we just sit with her and talk to her. Dad, I can’t go the ritual without having said—” 
“Fine,” he interrupted her, his heart constricting with grief at the sound of his daughter’s broken voice, “Fine, yes, you can see her. But none of you will be at the ritual. Do you read me? I don’t want you attending the transfer.” 
In perfect sync all of their eyes widened in shock, ears pulling back in dejection as their father's command fell straight into their laps. Lo’ak sat up quickly, in complete disbelief, “But—” 
“No, but anything. I don’t want any of you there, do you understand?” 
That edge had returned in his voice and Jake took two seconds each to drill his gaze into his children, trying to make it stick within their minds, so that no matter how many times the thought appeared to go against his words, the remembrance of his stone cold glare would stop them. He couldn't be sure that it would work, especially as he caught the look on Lo'ak's face. It was the same look he gave whenever he was given orders or asked to do something against his own troublesome consciousness. It was passive, him nodding his head as if he was listening though he never took anything serious his father said. It was the same exact look Jake was getting then.
“Do — you — understand?” 
He spoke slower and finally got the response he wanted. All three of his older children nodded their heads while Lo’ak verbally respond with, “Yes, sir.” 
Neteyam could only stare up past Jake, huffing quietly. It was loud enough to catch his father’s attention anyway. Jake narrowed his gaze down at his oldest but the young warrior wouldn't falter. Instead, Neteyam matched him with the same expression.
No gunmetal would warp at that moment as Neteyam felt every inch of anger and frustration ball together. The order for them to stay away during the ceremony left him astonished and pissed off. His father still saw them as children and felt like he had this responsibility to protect them. But other than Tuk, none of them needed his protection. They had grown up and that was something he obviously couldn't accept.
Somehow it only filled Neteyam with more spite because there was nothing left that needed to be protected. Every innocence had been stolen and he couldn’t remember the last time he had been treated like a child, free of any responsibilities. For years he had been viewed and trained like a serviceman, kept on a shelf until he was needed. His whole life he had been ordered around; Go pick up an extra couple of hours of training. Watch over your brother. Learn how to use a gun. Take on extra challenges with other warriors. Heck, marry and mate with a woman of our choosing.
They had every part of him. They had taken every piece of him and he had willingly let them. For years he had been ordered around as if he was incapable of thinking for himself. In reality, they couldn't afford him to think and make decisions for themselves because it would go against what was best for the clan.
Some things never changed though. He stood just outside the healing tent, where the Tsahik was trying to save the only woman he has ever had feelings for, and he was expected to follow commands again. He was supposed to let them put him back on the shelf and wait for further instructions. Your life was hanging in the balance and they were asking him to be absent from the ritual that would decide what would happen. He couldn’t do that.
His hard-set gaze met Jake’s, refusing to back down. He watched then as the Toruk Makto dismissed him and instead sent one more look to each of his children. He nodded in the direction of the healing tent, “Go on.” 
One by one, they all stood silently and began to approach the tent, with dread being the only thing evidently strewn across their faces. Neytiri slowly set Tuk down, wiping what was left of her tears, that motherly smile occupying her face as she watched the rest of her children approach the tent. As Neteyam stepped by them though, the thought of you the only thing guiding him forward, Jake’s eyes found Neytiri’s. She hadn’t seemed to understand what he was trying to say, but she turned to give him her full attention anyway at the obnoxious way he cleared his throat. 
Her ears flickered curiously then as his stare frantically began to flicker back and from their oldest son to her. Lo’ak and Spider had stepped into the tent with Tuk waiting by the doorway, clearly contemplating if she wanted to go inside herself. Neytiri then found herself looking at Neteyam who was getting close to the entrance. She felt the thought kick in at what Jake was referring to or rather what you had asked of him. Him was the key term, but Neytiri felt her brows draw forward on her forehead in exasperation at his clear hesitation. The Toruk Makto had no problem lecturing his sons until their ears bled but being able to break the worst news and offer comfort to them might as well have been foreign, especially in their older years. He was terrified of it and Neytiri found it utterly ridiculous.
As Jake didn’t show any signs of calling out to Neteyam, she huffed out and shook her head at her husband, narrowing her gaze at him. The words very bad were communicated vexingly through her eye contact. She sighed then as she called out to Neteyam, “Maitan (my son)!”
Neteyam’s ears perked up at the sound of his mother’s voice and just as his hand grasped around the tent flap, so close to where you were, he pulled back to face her. She waved him over, and with frustration and confusion, he stepped away from the tent. Kiri, who was just about to enter, noticed the interaction of their mother pulling him aside and decided to wait, in favor of watching the conversation play out instead.
“What?” Neteyam questioned, the sharpness of his tongue not unnoticed.
Neytiri’s initial reaction was to smack him upside the head for it, but she held back knowing the sharpness was nothing but a reflection of how he was feeling. He wasn’t trying to be difficult or disrespectful. He just didn't have the energy or the care anymore to be any other way.
Neytir's gaze softened, the same one she had spared moments ago as she clutched her youngest in her arms. Neteyam noticed it right away, the look she was giving him. He would never admit it, but he knew his mother better than the rest of his siblings, and at the sight of her eyebrows drawing together softly, he felt his stomach drop. The lines between them displayed feelings of stress and disappointment. She wore it across her face — how badly she wished to offer him the moon and the stars. 
As her hand reached for his shoulder, that’s when he figured it out for sure. Why she had stopped him from entering, her shared looks with Jake, the way she was trying to steer him from the tent. It all made sense and a low growl took everyone by surprise as he peered over his shoulder at Kiri and the opening of the tent.
When he looked back at his mother, he felt his fists clench at his sides, “She doesn't want to see me. That's what you are going to tell me, aren't you? You pulled me aside because she told you she doesn't want to see me. ” 
“Yes,” Neytiri admitted slowly. 
A pin dropped and within a beat of time, as if only a second had passed, Neteyam resurfaced but angrier and more annoyed than before. He stepped back out of her grasp, and her hand was left dangling in the air as his tail whipped back and forth aggressively.
“No. Fuck that!"
“Neteyam!” she hissed, taking a hold of his arm and yanking him back despite his best efforts to escape her. He didn’t dare overpower his mother though or do anything that would disrespect her. Instead, he let her hold his arm too tightly, while her glare drilled holes into the side of his head.
“I wish it didn’t have to be this way. I wish more than anything that it didn’t, but who would we be if we denied her wishes.” 
Her wishes. 
She spoke as if you were already dead and he felt himself tense under her words, his entire body becoming rigid. He closed his eyes for a moment as if trying to breathe through the pang in his chest. To calm himself down, he held his breath deep within his lungs for almost a minute before he released it. When he did, he felt the heartbreak creep up within his body until it was past his throat and on the tip of his tongue. Then he broke right in front of her.
“Her wishes? Do you even hear yourself right now, sa’nok (mother)? You're acting as if she has already died and is with Eywa. How can you just... No, damn her wishes because if there is a chance that I could lose her I am not going to stand out here and let her... I can’t just stand here and let her go into that ritual without telling her how I feel.” 
“It was not my choice, ma‘eveng (my child),” she whispered cooly, as Neteyam was starting to appear frantic.
The choice isn’t mine to bear.
He clenched his eyes shut again, suddenly stained with the memory of you standing within the mauve tendrils, beautiful face barring every raw emotion of your soul to him. Tears suspended in your eyes for a second as he felt every possible pain rip open in his chest, a pain so horrible it let his flaws and deceptions take over. He had hurt you right back and he knew just as everyone once would that he was no warrior. No perfect son. No perfect soldier. No man worth bearing the sins of the world. Your words crept back into his mind.
Then I will bear it. 
Neteyam, the way I feel about you is consuming.
“This is fucking bullshit!”
Just as Neytiri was going to comfort her son, try and offer any encouraging words she could, she felt his arm be pulled from her grasp. He was stepping away from her and her motherly gaze that was slowly suffocating him. He stared hard at his father as he passed him, sarcastically thanking him for all of his help in this whole thing, before stalking away in the opposite direction of the healing tent, his family, and you. 
They all watched him go and Kiri found herself stepping away from the tent in favor of going after her older brother. She nodded at her parents reassuringly, “I got it.” 
She took off in his direction, picking up her pace to catch up with him. As Jake and Neytiri watched them go, she huffed over at Jake, crossing her arms over her chest intently. That worried line in between her brows had formed again as her mind began to ramble with questions if what she was doing for her children and her people were right. Neteyam was the one she thought about long and hard, wondering if what they were doing was right. She felt like she had failed him or rather they all had failed him. As no one had ever made it easy on him from the moment he was born. There was not one sole point in time where they considered things from his point of view, his life, his future, or how once he had been full of childhood dreams. Instead, they just deemed them as improbable outcomes.
It was as if Jake could read her mind, all starting from that stressful line on her forehead between her brows. “He can’t be there. He will never forgive himself if he watches her….” 
“And he’ll never forgive us if she somehow dies and we never let him say goodbye.” 
Kiri chased after her brother, letting her parents' voices fade behind her. Her eyes narrowed at him as he walked in front of her or rather stomped in front of her. His braids swung from side to side, his back muscles tense and rigid. She could see every twitch of annoyance and frustration in his form, displayed on his back like any true man would — never demonstrating it out loud or through words but rather through body language.
Picking up her steps, she called out to him but he ignored her as he made it through the village. He was making a move for the forest, but Kiri knew that if he did disappear into the lush greenery, who knew when he would be back. There wasn't time for it.
“Neteyam, stop!” she finally yelled, firmly grabbing onto his elbow and yanking him back. 
He hissed at the way her nails dug into the skin of his forearm and let his feet come to a stop. Staring forward at the forest, his means of escape, a loud sigh fell from his lips. Unable to push the pain off his face, he refused to look at her, and instead tilted his head to the side, his broken gaze falling to the ground.
“What? What do you want?” 
“You can’t just storm off like this,” Kiri admitted, slightly out of breath from chasing after him, “Not right now and not like this. We need to stick together when something like this happens, so you can't just leave. Because believe it or not, everyone looks to you as much as they look to Dad during a crisis. Your presence is important, now more than ever. That, and I don't think you should be alone.” 
Scoffing he shook his head, denying her admission. More so, he wouldn’t stand there and let her give him that same pitying stare his mother couldn’t wipe from her face. “The fact that you would use my future title against me right now, are you serious? Tell, me Kiri other than that the people need me why I should stay. Y/N doesn’t want to see me, so what’s the point?” 
“Do you even hear yourself right now?” Kiri’s hand fell from around him, suddenly feeling angered by his words and his tone as if he was brushing you off like it was the only thing he could do when around other people, “I mean what the hell is wrong with you? You can’t even admit that you have feelings for her, can you? Seriously? Nothing, at all? Neteyam, she could die, she could not survive this transfer and you still can’t fucking say it out loud.” 
His shoulders dropped, her voice cutting through him like a knife cuts through flesh, with resistance but then giving away. The more things she said, the easier it was to get through to him past the bullshit and the fear. Exhaling, he finally turned around to face her, his little sister, and felt his words get caught at the sight of how sad she appeared. Her eyes displayed every form of grief and anger, and it was all pointed straight at him. 
“I can't,” he responded, his confession wearing her tight expression away, “If I say it, it will become real. Everything these past six months will be right there in front of me. Every night spent together, every argument about her training, every reaction, and feeling she brought out of me. Except if I admit my feelings for her, it would also mean that I have to admit that I am losing her. I will be admitting that she is sick and dying, and I can’t accept that Kiri. I can’t..” 
Kiri stared up at her brother, eyes wide and wallowing in unshed tears as every friction and pause in his voice spoke to everything he was saying. He was barring a part of himself to her at that moment which he had never done before. He was looking past the perfection that was expected of him and let his insecurities ring out in the air and while it was killing him to his very core, a part of him felt relief. 
“Kiri, she’s not mine. She never was and I didn't have the thought to even ask. We could never be together so why even say anything to her, but I guess now, it doesn't even fucking matter, does it? All that duty and expectations bullshit means nothing because she is slipping away right in front of us. And now that I realize that, she doesn't even want to fucking see me."
She sighed, one that was brought out from deep within, as she took a hold of his arm again. This time gently almost like if she pressed any harder, he would break. Or he would get scared, sink back into his shell, and close himself off from the rest of the world.
“Neteyam—”
“What is that?” he shouted, pupils dilated and crazed as his eyes became drenched in tears, he wished would never fall. 
“Neteyam, please,” Kiri cried then, gripping his arm harder to get his gold eyes to lock with hers, to get him to calm down as his breathing was erratic pulling and prodding at his chest as if he were trying to self-destruct right before her eyes. “You need to try and understand what she is asking of you.” 
“I won't do this. I have to see her.” 
She shushed him then, his cries falling silent upon his tongue, “Brother, you have never seen her like this, do you understand that? For six months, you have only seen Y/N in her avatar body and as one of us. You have never seen her in this true form, in her human body.” 
“I don’t care about that, Kiri, you know that,” he replied, brows drawing down on his face as he tucked his bottom lip in between his front teeth. 
“Okay, but she’s also sick, very sick, and I can’t imagine that the last time she'd want you to see her would be like this. Not as this weak, shell of a person she doesn’t even recognize as herself anymore,” Kiri explained carefully, her tears starting to fall without her even realizing as she gripped harder onto Neteyam, “It sounds like she knows what could happen, what’s at risk here. It’s not that she doesn’t want to see you. It’s that, she would rather have the last time you saw her be from earlier. She’d be okay with the fact it was in the forest, in your arms, and in her avatar body because it would mean you would remember her that way, at that moment.”
Her words had struck him in the chest harder than any blow he had ever gotten in his entire life. It was worse than when he had collided with one of the floating mountains on his first Ikran ride, or the time when he had gotten the shit beat out of him early on his training days. It was even worse than when Lo’ak had beat the shit out of him hours ago. In fact, it felt as if it was worse than all of those things combined.
She’d be okay with the fact that it was in the forest, in your arms, and in her avatar body.
Neteyam bit down on his lower lip, reopening the wound that Lo’ak had put there earlier as every single word of that one sentence made him recoil. If the last time he saw you, talked to you, was in front of that tree screaming at you as you finally told him how you felt. The way I feel about you is consuming. No, it couldn't be. That would be complete and utter bullshit. He sure as hell wouldn’t stand by and let the last time you saw him be there, under that tree not only rejecting your heart but his own feelings. 
Neteyam had been selfless his whole life until it had come to you and he wasn’t about to return to the person he was before you, refusing to listen to his own feelings and what he wanted. At that moment he was choosing to be selfish, to choose himself and to choose you over some last dying wish. He knew it was wrong, so wrong, but it didn’t stop him from stalking the healing tent for the next half hour, watching as each person came and went. His bottom lip at that point was rebleeding and torn to shreds but he needed something, some sort of distraction from the fears that were starting to take over his body.
There were fifteen minutes until you were going to be transported to the site and another fifteen before the ritual would start. Neteyam watched from afar he as Mo’at walked out of the tent, her hands full and her gaze seemingly distracted. She disappeared far into the village and Neteyam snuck out from around the side of the tent he had been standing for nearly a half hour. Having the darkness to disappear into, he slipped into the tent unnoticed. With no one following him, he close the front lapels of the tent and turned slowly on his heels.
He felt his entire body freeze, hands clenching at his sides while his breathing suddenly sped up. Dim lanterns encased the room, emitting a soft glow and he felt all sanity escape him at the sight of the avatar body that had been in his grasp only two hours before. The only you he had ever known. It looked so cold without your animated expressions, that familiar pinched line in between your eyebrows, or the tiny divots of your dimples that appeared when you smiled. It was you and had been the you he had given himself to completely but at that moment it wasn’t you at all. Its eyes were closed and already having been prepared for the ritual, the body was wrapped up in blankets to be transferred.
His eyes then took in the much smaller form laid a few feet away from it, all bundled up, chest rising and falling with each deep breath that was inhaled. He cautiously walked forward and as the soft glow brushed along his face, he felt as if his body was at a standstill, all air pulled from his lungs.
Completely unmoving, he finally saw you for the first time — the real you and his entire world was shifted on its axis. You were all soft lashes, smooth skin, and glistening full lips. With your eyes fluttered shut, he wondered what color your they were, the opening of your soul. He wanted you to open them. He wanted to see if they matched the ones he had been staring into for six months. Other than that, the slope of your nose was smaller and your eyebrows were different, more prominent, and the markings on your skin were completely dissimilar to the ivory specks he was so used to admiring.
Somehow though, even with an entirely different person in front of him, you were entirely familiar — all of his favorite parts of you were the same, and just as you had looked earlier that night underneath the mauve tree, there in that tent and in that body, you were ethereal. And you were his even not officially, you were. Ma’ Y/N.
Tears once again resurfaced after the countless times he had reeled them back in that day. Slowly, he sunk down onto his knees beside you and listened to the way you breathed, trying to memorize the sound of it for as long as he could. Glancing down to your side, he found his eyes flickering with interest at the sight of your hand, limp across the blanket. Five fingers, smaller than his own, just as your other always had been. Staring down at it, he couldn’t help himself and before he realized it, he was reaching for it. Engulfing your smaller one in his, he watched as it slipped into his with ease as if it was meant to be there. He felt a type of warmth fill his chest then as your hand twitched in his. 
Tilting his head, he looked back up to your face and found himself taken aback at the sight of two small doe-eyes peering up at him. They were so elegant and nothing like he had expected but somehow he would commit them to his memory then and there. They scanned over his face like it was the first time you’d ever seen him and he felt his heart rate speed up when they had narrowed slightly. Your brows knitted together to bring back that pinched look he had just been reminiscing about seconds before.
The sight of you staring at him felt almost scrutinizing and based on that furrow in your brow and the slight frown that occupied your glistening and completely temptatious lips, this was without a doubt you. He knew then that it didn’t matter which body you were in, which form whether human or avatar, it would always feel like this. With you, he would always feel this. 
“Hm, so this is you. Well it's nice to finally meet you, Y/N Y/L/N, all of you," he said suddenly, voice low and so soft it comforted you in more ways than one.
A few moments ago when you had felt a sudden pressure on your hand and the warmth of calloused skin, you couldn’t help but stir from the sleep that had suddenly overtaken you. You didn’t know who to expect when you opened your eyes, but it definitely wasn’t Neteyam. You never thought it could be but as you looked up and adjusted to the light, sure enough, it was.
He was there, staring down at you just as clearly as he had been in the forest among the mauve tendrils of the Tree of Souls. At first, you couldn’t deny how the feeling of his hand wrapped around yours resembled a hug and all the consolation in the world you needed. However, despite the affectionate look about him you couldn’t help but wonder what he was doing there. How he could have been there when you deliberately had said he wasn't allowed to be. You didn’t want him to see you like this and definitely didn't ask for him to come and see all your insecurities looming over you just before the consciousness transfer.
That was when the annoyance set in, evidently by the furrowing together of your eyebrows and the downward curve of your lips. You stared up at him, not knowing if you even had it in you to speak to him. He chuckled out, hand squeezing yours, feeling as if you had captivated him completely at that moment.
“Look, I can tell by the way you're staring at me right now, that you're angry I'm here."
Your lips parted as if you were going to reply, and you watched as Neteyam leaned closer as if he needed to hear your voice. The reassurance that it was still you in front of him, the same person. But as you inhaled, he could feel the way you were struggling to even do that, breath.
"Nete— "
His hand squeezed yours again, reassuringly, his unshed tears were so clear to you then, like uncut glass in the soft lighting from the lanterns. “No, don't. Don't say anything. You have already said everything you needed to. You had your chance, now it's my turn. It’s my turn to talk.” 
With his eyes earnestly staring down into yours, you exhaled the breath you were holding and let your chest relax, parted lips closing with ease. You nodded then, letting the pinched look leave your face as if you were alleviating his anxiety with it. It was his turn then to breathe, his words jumbled across his tongue, adding weight to his mouth as he couldn’t dare look away from you. Finally, as you offered him an encouraging smile, he felt all of that weight be lifted off. 
“Look, I know you didn’t want me here not like this and especially not now, but I couldn’t… I couldn’t leave things the way they were. I wouldn’t do that to us, Y/N, because you deserve more than that,” he said, stumbling slightly while completely worried that everything was coming out wrong. But based on how it felt so right in his chest and the tears gathering in your eyes, he knew it was more than enough. "I don't know what's going to happen but I do know that you deserve more finality than that because you're everything. How you make me feel is everything and I just needed you to know that.”
His eyes were soft, looking at you as if it really were true, that you were everything. That you were the entire world, his entire world. Fully in that tiny spindle of time, it was like he was finally unveiling his entire self to you — every piece, sliver, and makeup of who he was was reflected in his eyes. No more walls, no more guarding or holding it all inside. There at that moment, it was the real Neteyam Te Suli Tsyeyk’itan staring back at you. 
Curling your lips into a small smile, not enough to show your teeth, you could taste the tears that were slipping down from the inner corners of your eyes, finding a place within your smile line. With batted breath, you watched his eyes trace them to only find yours again. Relief filled him at that moment at the sight of them streaming down your face because they weren’t a sign of heartache, grief, or mortification of the situation. Most importantly they weren’t a reflection of fear or doubt about what was to come — it was as if you were completely content in your point in life right there with his hand wrapped around yours. No, what was inevitably laced within those pretty tears of yours was a complete abundance of love.
Neteyam felt as if that look had reached past his chest, taken the pieces of his heart graciously and purposefully, took them, and then, with the warmest touch, put them back together again. It was like Eywa’s plan for him wasn’t to become his father’s soldier or to save the Omatikaya from the invading enemies. His will, his purpose was to be here with you, like this. 
Leaning forward, you felt his palm connect with the side of your face, cupping your cheek like he had wanted to do so many times before. His thumb brushed along the glass of the oxygen mask and you couldn’t help but close your eyes and release more tears. Reaching up, your small hand circled around his wrist and held it there, able to feel his pulse under your fingertips. His eyes flickered to the touch before they found yours again and he suddenly couldn’t help himself any longer, not when he was finally able to see everything so clearly. 
He cleared his throat, voice overcome by emotions as a single tear of his own slipped from the corner of his eye and down into his upper lip. It was the first tear he can even remember touching his cheek in years — a tear that had and always been promised for you.
“I see you.” 
Your eyes widened slightly in surprise while the breath you had taken in felt like it had gotten lodged in your throat. More tears escaped from yours but your smile didn’t falter, not for one second, and you knew if that was the last thing you ever heard, you’d be happy. If it happened right there in his arms you could be okay with that because his words had somehow sanctified your soul. Sounding different, sounding so much more than when he had said it earlier that morning willed every bad thing away. In fact, it was everything, he was everything. 
You squeezed his wrist in your hand as you stared up at him, eyes gleaming like it was the first and last time they ever would, “I see you.” 
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It was iridescent, the only way to utterly describe the sight. Mauve tendrils of neon light bathing skin in light as the forest's phosphorescent green pulsed beneath the people's bodies and feet. Pulsing to the heartbeat of their Great Mother. Pulsing in sync with their swaying bodies and stifled groans. It all reached deeply within their bones; her and her power. They cried to her, prayers and pleas kissing their tongues as the bioluminescence of the ground was prominent where their queues were connected.
Before Mo’at within the tendrils and the night sky, the atokirina was coated in white and floated in the air above in swarms. Thereupon the pulsing ground of the tree with bulging roots, two bodies lay wrapped within the confines of Eywa. The neon green phosphorescence rectifying as the Mother accepted the two bodies on her beloved soil. Evidently how the small fingerlike tresses of the ground lifted and wrapped around each body, grounding them completely. The same tresses that connected each person there to the entity of Eywa. 
“The Great Mother may choose to save all that she is in this body,” Mo’at spoke, watching the tresses grow across the avatar’s body eventually pulling the queue further into the ground creating a direct neural link to the back of your human neck. 
Eyes fluttered to a close, and you were finally relaxed, instead listening to the sound of your slowing heart. Norm stood in his avatar form near your human body with Neytiri as Jake sat on the other side next to the form they all hoped you would wake up in. His fingers brushed the strays hair out of its face and glanced over at your human body, taking note of the gentle rise and fall of your chest. He shared a look with Neytiri, a shared look of worry as both of Mo’at’s earlier words hung in their heads. She is very weak. It only brought flashbacks of Grace and filled him with the worst dread. That feeling was only exemplified when the ritual began. 
Everyone bathed in the green light, connected arms, all being interlinked as one with Eywa were able to feel her as well as each other. They slowly listened to Mo’at’s words chanting out in the air and repeated them in synchronism back at her, eyes closed focusing on the feeling channeling within one another.
“Ting mikyun ayoheru rutxe, ma Nawma Sa’nok (Hear us please, Great Mother).” 
Mo’at raised her arms high into the air, “Srung si poeru, ma Ewya (Eywa, help her).” 
“Pori tireati, munge mì nga (Take this spirit into you),” the crowd chanted back rolling their necks and their shoulders as one back and forth. 
No matter how many times Norm and Jake had witnessed the ritual, it still left them too stunned to speak; the overwhelming sensation of the voices in unison, the connection of the neurons through the ground, and the overriding presence of Eywa. It all was so much to process even more so while trying to pray to Eywa herself. To ask for forgiveness, for mercy, for her to return you even when you were weak and sick. Ask and beg that she give this one thing to all of those that loved you.
The phosphorescent green reflected back in his eyes as he glanced down from you to your human body now completely covered by tresses leaving barely any sliver of real skin showing. Mystified he watched as the atokirinas floated down from the sky and with the lightest touch surrounded your avatar body — the purest souls watching over you and serving as a positive sign of what he wished to believe.
Finally after what felt like hours of chanting and praying, and looking into the sky for Eywa, Jake felt his attention shoot up to Mo’at. He watched as she spun in circles, arms flailing in the air, eyes rolled to the back of her head, repeating the Great Mother’s name in constant tongues. She could feel her and she could hear her. He was focused then as Mo’at’s voice grew silent out of nowhere like a switch had been flipped. Her eyes returned to normal, her arms dropped to her sides, and her voice fell quiet.
Glancing down at the two bodies before her, she raised her hand to the rest of the people, her voice loud and commanding, “Lu hasey! (It is finished).”
The crowd became silent and all as one found themselves holding their breaths as Mo’at bent down examining your human body closely, her hands raised over your face. Jake held his too as Neytiri stepped forward, hands dropping to the mask around your face. With the uttermost delicacy, she reached forward and pulled it up and off, the sound from releasing the compaction was a gust of air. She laid it down on the ground next to your body as her eyes swept across your beautiful young face, relaxed, gone of any pain.
Her large hand cupped your face; like a mother, she leaned down and connected her soft lips to your forehead, right above your eyebrow. A maternal comfort you had never known or experienced, something Jake had mentioned often to her over the last half year. She let her lips linger a little longer, channeling all of her affection and devotion for you, offering it to Eywa. 
Leaning back her eyes opened again and her hand left your face with one final touch. She looked up to meet her husband's eyes and Jake felt the anxiety worsen in his stomach as she offered him an ensuring nod. He took a deep breath and looked down at the young avatar before him. He leaned over it, tracing every point of its face with his eyes, her ivory-kissed skin, and long eyelashes.
It was the same face of the young woman Jake had had the pleasure of knowing over the last six months. It was the young woman, he felt had become a part of his family. The face of the woman who had captured the attention of his children and left them astounded after seven years of knowing you. He looked down and saw the face of the woman who had managed to get his eldest son to fall in love. It was the face of you, the young girl who had been entirely and always enraptured by this planet and this world — a woman who was always meant to become a part of the Na’vi. 
His fingertips ghosted over your cheeks, the lightest of touches as the atokirinas could be seen all around you. Waiting and waiting, he felt his breath and hope leave him all at once as seconds passed and then a minute. He felt the time frame leaving, falling to a close, and his heart sunk into his stomach. Glancing up at Mo’at expectantly, disappointed, she urged him back down to you with a simple nod, asking him to wait a second longer.
Live or die?
One of us? Or one of them?
Letting his head tilt back down to you, Jake held his breath, his pointer finger brushing against the skin right below your eyebrow, delicately. His gaze zoned in on yours so seriously, he felt his throat well up waiting, begging Eywa. Just as his pinky pressed along your skin, the pair of eyes popped open, coating his sight in yellow and gold, flickered with specks of the lightest green he had ever seen.
one of us taglist is not working the best right now and I have over the limit of people asking to be tagged (it says it's fifty) so, for now, I am just not going to have a taglist because I can't tag everyone and it's taking a lot of work to figure out.
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rise-my-angel · 10 months
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Heart of the Great Wolf
Masterlist
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Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader (Slow Burn)
Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader
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Pre Series Content and Extras:
Woes of a Modern Day Love (a modern!au)
Scattered Memories of the Starks
The Lost Chapters of Jon Snow
NSFW Alphabet (contains spoilers for Part 3 and 4)
Interlude of Jealous Desires
A New Life's Darkened Lust (continuation of Ashes of Various Grey)
Part 1:
Wolves of the Lone Stag
Mouth of the Lion's Den
An Intrigue Drenched in Blood
Standing Behind a Betrayal
A War of Tragic Beginning
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Part 2:
King and Queen in the North
Shadow of a Fiery Stag
Reunion of New Enemies
Pleasure of Conflicted Desire
The Sanctity of Children
What Lies Beyond The Veil
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Part 3:
The Cost of Our Sins
Dragged Through the Violence
Only the Cold
Fire for the King's Blood
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Part 4:
Ashes of Various Grey
Plans of Pain and Horror
Afraid of a Ravens Flight
Trust in the Gentle Rasps
Visions in Eyes and Flames
A Bastard or The White Wolf
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Part 5:
Home of Bloodsoaked Stone
Blazing Fire of Storming Ice
Ghostly Dreams of Old
Sailing Through the Glow
The Last Dragon
The Winter Rose
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Part 6:
The Clash of Three Kings
Shrouded Truth in Sickness
Winged Shadow in the Sky
Light in the Darkest Storms
Peeking the Realms Woes
Blood, Roses and All Lies
Broken Love of the Dead
The Souls Tethered in Death
Wolves of the Past and Back
The Crows and The Sight
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Part 7:
A Brewing of New Mystery
Great Wolves of White Mists
Darkness Heavy in a World
Past Becomes the Present
The Thing in the Night
Waving Tides of Turmoil
Green, White or Bloodraven
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im-poe-dameron · 8 months
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─── BREATHE ME IN
a/n: so um...i have no idea what this is. i started this when the kenobi series was coming out and sort of dropped it after a month. but here i am, finally finishing it and making it longer than it was supposed to be. did we really expect me not to find darth vader hot? i think he's where my whole loving a masked character came from. honestly this is basically filth with me trying to shove plot in not so subtly. so i hope y'all enjoy!
summary: the jedi fell and darth vader rose to power, but there's a secret he hides even from his own master.
word count: 5.5k+ (because i'm insane)
pairing: darth vader x f!reader
warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, cussing, angst, tenderness which is shocking, thigh riding, choking (obviously), oral (male receiving), a tad bit of face fucking, dom/sub dynamics, rough p in v sex, overstimulation, more hints of anakin than vader.
You’ll never be able to forget the scent of him after that night one month ago. It was branded in your mind, forever a part of you as he bent you to his will—made you his without even saying a single word. You should have fought him on it; made him see that you weren’t ready to relinquish the power you once held, but you knew the man beneath the mask he wore. You had known Anakin before he became this, before he twisted himself up inside and gave into being Darth Vader.
Even now as you stood in your small home on a planet far away from the Empire’s touch, you could feel his control over you. Long before the order was given and Jedi were slaughtered, you had been one of them. A knight who fought alongside Anakin in the Clone Wars—a warrior who chose the side of good rather than evil.
Then things fell apart. You were told that the man you loved, the person you cherished the most, gave into the dark side.
He became a stranger once more.
But nobody runs from Anakin for long—especially when he’s become a force more powerful than any Jedi could ever hope to be. You were hiding out on Devaron when he found you, attempting first to turn you to the dark side with him. Only for you to see something break in his exterior, his walls dropping for a split second and you felt it like a punch to the chest. He needed you.
This absolute desire was not born out of lust but pure necessity, because even as Darth Vader…Anakin Skywalker still lived beneath the mask and he didn’t know how to live without you. You’d always been the person he turned to when Obi-Wan wouldn’t understand the nature of his feelings. When he could no longer control them himself.
So, he left you there—allowing you to remain a Jedi who chose the light side of the Force over him. But he would return again and again. Desperate for someone to put his strained mind at ease—the memories of his past haunting him with every waking day. Perhaps that's where the submission started. In helping him by allowing him into your bed, into your heart little by little each time until eventually…you yearned for him to.
Jedi weren’t allowed to have such strong attachments, but as a Sith…he could keep you as his for as long as possible. A deal you wholeheartedly agreed to with a single word.
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The stars were starting to shine brightly in the night sky as you traversed the dense forest of Devaron, your lightsaber clipped to your side and hood drawn up over your head. You heard his ship land ten minutes ago; knew he now stood in the center of your home awaiting your arrival. So, you took your time. Anakin never liked to wait, Darth Vader was no different, and somehow that brought a smile to your face. So desperate to see you that he would battle his way through the forest alone to find you again.
He would come after you—you knew he would—and that brought back the pool of heat that always found its way to your body when he arrived.
There was something twisted about loving him even the way he was now. How could you, a Jedi Knight of your ability, love something so dark? How could you give into the sinister deliciousness of that side, yet still remain so true to the light side of the Force? The answer was simpler than you thought. In your mind he still remained as Anakin the man you loved and even though you knew what he did, what he now became, you couldn’t let go of your heart fully.
Even if the scars now showed as small canyons and ridges, each one holding a darkness that would ultimately cause your demise.
He knew this.
Nobody loved Darth Vader, nobody gave themselves to the most powerful Sith in the galaxy, without understanding they would die because of it one day. Perhaps that’s what caused the absolute ache in your bones at the mere sight of him. The thought of one day no longer being by his side. Some Jedi may claim you were betraying what you believed in—destroying yourself just for an inkling of mind numbing pleasure—but it was more than that. Pleasure ultimately gave way to the pain of loving someone beyond saving.
As expected you arrived at your small house to the sight of a black ship—big enough for one—in the clearing that was solely used by him. The darkness bled through the Force, encasing you in a biting cold as you walked towards the already open door. One might say the sight of him standing amidst your tiny living room was terrifying enough to run away. But you were never one to cower in fear from him and you refused to start now.
His head tilted, energy stretching out towards you through the old connection you used to have with him, and with a small smile you reached back. Twining your brilliant blue around his obsidian nature until you saw him shudder beneath his cloak.
“You’re late,” he said—his voice something you had to continue to get used to.
Humming, you dropped your robe onto the chair behind him, heading towards your small makeshift kitchen where you knew there’d be some bread from the day before. He turned, watching you move as you continued to press your Force signature against his own—reminding him of a time when he too held a blue lightsaber brighter than yours. This was a two way street. You savored the bitter sweetness of the dark side, relishing in the rush of power that flowed through your veins, and he once again fell back into what he used to know. The calming serenity of the light side.
“You’re early,” you teased, knowing his temper was far worse than before. However he always seemed to control it around you—the tight grip he had on his anger evident in the way his fist clenched.
“Where did you go?” He demanded more than asked nowadays and so you stayed silent, awaiting for the flare of anger to shove its way into your mind.
It never came though. The silence almost shocked you as you turned, eating the remainder of the bread. But that’s what he wanted out of you—a reaction that would show you actually acknowledge his presence. How could you not? When he stood there looking like the true embodiment of the dark side of the Force. Although there were times when you missed the sight of Anakin standing before you—a smile on his face that always reached his blue eyes.
“Exploring,” you said, eyes flickering down the length of him—taking in the sight of his rigid stance. “How long are you here for?”
“Tonight.”
His answers were blunt, to the point, because he didn’t have time to dawdle. You were his secret, you knew this. If anyone found out you’d be killed and knowing who Darth Vader answered to…he’d be forced to do it himself. So, you nodded and finished the remainder of your bread as you continued to watch him—prodding at the wall of his mind to hopefully see within. But they remained up, blocking you from anything other than his Force signature which remained tightly entwined with your own.
“How long will you be gone for?”
He paused, pressing against the walls of your mind to see what exactly you were thinking, but you knew he didn’t wish to forcefully tear them down. You were not a person he was interrogating—rather a lover who he may very well lose if he didn’t act accordingly. His fist clenched again, the struggle to remain in complete control now wavering as you stalled for time. He knew what you were doing and yet he still played along.
“I don’t know.”
You hummed, once more pressing against the wall in his mind. It was dangerous to be let inside—having seen what he harbored behind the thick barrier—but your curiosity always wished to drag you into trouble.
What was safety compared to intimately knowing the most lethal person in existence? To you there would be nothing more intriguing, nothing more worth the risk than this simple gesture.
“Don’t,” he spit out, stepping closer until your lower back was digging into the counter.
“You let me in once before—”
His gloved hand landed on your throat, silencing your words and causing a shudder to run down your spine. Though the position wasn’t unfamiliar, it still brought a small inkling of fear to peek its head out. He could kill you—without remorse. Yet he never did. He simply remained, holding your throat as tenderly as he possibly could—relearning what the meaning of gentle was. That thought alone brought a dazed smile to your face, your eyes nearly fluttering closed as his thumb ran along the column of your neck.
“That is no longer a luxury you are allowed to have.”
The words were sinister on his tongue, like a sharp knife to your heart, but you’d been scarred by him before. “Is it because I know what I’ll find? Or are you afraid?”
His control finally snapped, the pressure on your throat now crushing you until you struggled for air. But he didn’t squeeze harder, he didn’t make sure that you were unable to breathe completely, because he couldn’t cross that line. He refused to. You were the only light he let slip through the cracks of his helmet; the one thing keeping him stable on the ground and while it wasn’t very Darth Vader of him to keep you—it was the part of Anakin that still remained that held onto you tightly.
“You know nothing.”
Despite the lack of oxygen, you smiled. “I know you.”
The words came out choked and broken, but it was enough. He froze, his hand loosening around your throat as the final realization clicked into place just like it always did when he found his way back to you.
You knew him—knew Anakin that lay beneath the surface and Vader that rose to power crushing him in the end. You knew all the ugly bits that showed through the evident splinters of his being and in spite of all of that…you still loved him. Whenever he left you he seemed to forget that when he came here he didn’t have to wear a shroud of anger that resembled his cape. He didn’t have to wean himself from the light side with every bittersweet touch, because you held no expectations of him.
“Anakin,” you breathed, hand sliding along his leather covered limb. “Come home.”
Little by little you saw his walls come down, felt the darkness seep into his Force signature until you were surrounded by it. Until the only light left between the two of you was yours—guiding him back to you for a brief moment. He’d only be here tonight, so you’d have tonight.
You would take as much time as you were allowed if it meant seeing Anakin for a brief moment again.
“Anakin is dead,” he muttered, hand shifting until his thumb was pressing against your bottom lip. “I killed him.”
Parting your lips you allowed him to invade your senses even further—the taste of the leather permeated your mouth, driving a moan from your throat. Digging your nails into his arm, you felt him push against you—forcing his way into your mind and showing you images of a past that felt like yesterday. Anakin’s face flashed before you, the smile you ached to see again finally coming back to you, and it drew a whimper to the surface. A sound he liked if the pressure on your tongue was enough to go by.
The scene shifted and you felt the heat flare to life in your stomach as you saw yourself beneath him, sobbing his name as he practically shoved you into all encompassing bliss. Memories he still held onto—torturing himself because he could no longer have you in the way he wanted. But above all that, one stuck to the forefront of your mind. The taste of him as he kissed you; devoured everything you were and felt greedy enough to take even more.
The first hints of the dark side within him.
“Maker,” you gasped as he ripped his hand away, reaching for the ties of your robes. “I miss it too.”
Gathering enough of your energy you used the Force to shove him backwards until he stumbled into the wall behind him—his large frame taking up too much space. To anyone else it would have felt suffocating, but to you…this was as safe as you were ever going to get. He ached to have his old self back not to be a Jedi again. No, he thrived in the sinister ways of the Sith. He wanted to be Anakin, to have you again by his side—to kiss you like he used to on nights where things became too heavy a burden to carry alone.
Somehow in the midst of you pushing him back and him resisting you ended up pinned to the wall of your bedroom by him. He didn’t even have to touch you to make you beg for more; for you to do anything he wanted. This is what bending to his will became and he loved it.
He stood inches away, the tips of his boots touching yours and so like a fool you let your walls down without any warning. Shoving every memory and burning need his way until he was gasping through the modulator—his hand slamming against the wall beside your head. Each moment you were with him, each touch and night neither of you slept—too busy finding what made the other tick—it all poured into his mind. You made him see what you saw whenever you were near him even with the mask.
The cold feeling of his mask pressed against your cheek as he tried to push himself closer. This is all it would amount to. Nights spent in secret when really the both of you ached for one last thing. Something you never got.
A farewell kiss.
“Anakin,” you said softly, hand sliding to his shoulder. “Are you home?”
He let out a breath, the sound distorted through the modulator before finally breaking down the last of his walls. “Yes.”
You didn’t know how long tonight would truly last and so you began to clutch at his arm, feeling a hot press of his gloved hand dig into your thigh as he raised it to his hip. A natural movement he’d done a hundred times over. That was enough to make you smile, a small bit of laughter echoing off the walls of your tiny room. Although darkness still clung to him, still twisted tightly around your Force energy, he remained the man you loved.
Both Anakin Skywalker and Darth Vader alike.
“Tell me,” he groaned, shoving his knee up gently and fitting it right at the seam of your pants.
It almost didn’t feel fair how he knew your body so well—how he knew which way to move you to finally hear that familiar moan tumble past your lips.  Grinding your hips down, your head fell back against the wall when pressure was finally applied to your throbbing clit, sending sparks down your spine. You knew he watched every emotion, expression, and heard every sound behind that helmet and somehow…that made it even more electric.
“Tell me,” he demanded, hand going back to your throat and keeping you in place as his other one guided your hips along his thigh.
Fuck, you were still clothed and felt like you would fall apart at any moment.
“I—” Moaning, your hands scrambled for purchase along his chest. “I love you.”
Placing pressure on your throat he shoved pressed his thigh upwards, watching your eyes flutter shut, a high-pitched gasp escaping you as you finally broke. Light flooded his senses, nearly breaking his stance, but the sight of you writhing in his grasp—whimpers falling from your lips was too addicting for him to let go of. They say that the dark side made one greedy; desperate for whatever they wanted, and in this moment he was prepared to take and take until you had nothing left to give.
He knew you’d let him. You would give him whatever he asked for.
“Anaki—” He cut you off, dragging you along his thigh again and watching as your face twisted. Both pain and pleasure collided as you were shoved into overstimulation.
“Again,” he said, moving his hand from your hip to your pants—helping you yank them off until the leather of his glove slid through your hot slick. “I want to see you do it again.”
“Oh fuck.”
Gasping for air, you dug your teeth into your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood as he ruthlessly began to toy with your clit. He knew exactly what to do to shove you right on that edge again and perhaps that’s what flung you over it. Or maybe it was him shoving the same words back into your own mind until it echoed over and over again.
I love you.
Sith didn’t care about things like love, but Anakin Skywalker was never truly a Sith just as he was never truly a Jedi.
He was stuck in between—crossing the border of want and need.
“I can’t.” A cry ripped from you as his other hand moved down from your neck to your chest, rubbing a thumb over your nipple. “I—Anakin I can’t.”
He chuckled, the sound menacing even to you. “Yes you can.”
This wasn’t a question—it was a choice of when you’d finally give in. The pressure in your body built, the coil twisting as he continued to rub sharp circles on your clit. When your legs began to shake and your vision became blurry from tears, you knew you were right there on the very edge of shattering, but you couldn’t. Not until he joined you on that edge—relenting his power to give you some of your own.
“Say it,” you begged, eyes screwing shut as he sunk two fingers into you right to the knuckle—his thumb continuing. “Say it for me. Please I need—I need to—”
“I love you.”
The words sounded foreign coming from his modulator, but you knew this was Anakin speaking not the twisted side of him that fed off of pain. He’d finally ripped free from the cage he was put in, leeching off the light coming from you with glee. He may not have meant the words entirely, but they did what you both intended them to do.
Sobbing his name, you felt the pressure snap in two flooding your body with a white-hot pleasure. You could hear his fingers as they continued to pump into you, rubbing against the spot along your walls that made your legs shake and tears flow down your cheeks.
“That’s it,” he muttered, hand going around your neck to hold you in place as you practically grinded on his hand—the pleasure still coursing through your veins.
You were lost to it. Mind numb to everything else but him standing before you.
It took you a few minutes to catch your breath and gain feeling in your limbs again and he waited. Gave you a chance to breathe as he fought against the impatience that trickled into his veins—a quality that was unnatural to him. Once you were finally able to open your eyes, sighing in contentment, you focused on his mind—allowing yourself a chance to see inside of it. As always it was inner turmoil that had you flinching, but right now all you saw were memories of you and him. The same ones he played over and over again while he was away from you.
“And here I thought you never missed me while you were away,” you said, lips curving into a smile sweet enough to taste.
“I don’t miss you.” He leaned closer, hand reaching down to cup your swollen cunt. “I miss this.”
Words like that should have stung, but you knew him better than that. You knew why he said the things he said. So you smiled wider, dragging his arm up until his hand was in front of your face, the black leather shiny with your cum. Twining your Force signature around him until he couldn’t escape, you sucked his fingers into your mouth, moaning at the taste of yourself. He didn’t expect you to give in so easily—usually enjoying the fight you put him through. But tonight you’d settle for this so you could gain more.
“We’ll see about that,” you whispered, kissing his palm and dropping his arm.
You wanted him to give over the control he ached for; wanted to watch as the last of his residual armor came crashing down around you. Only one person would be able to say they brought Darth Vader down to their knees and it was you. His light, his moon, his lover.
Pushing his leg away, you pressed your hands on his chest, wishing you could once again feel the strong heartbeat beneath his skin. The steady thrum of it put you to sleep on long nights when you snuck away from the Jedi Temple, but for now you’d have to settle for the rhythmic timing of his breaths as they echoed around the room.
Without another thought, you dropped to your knees in front of him—his body keeping you caged in along the wall. You figured he already knew what you were going to do, if the way he widened his stance told you anything. His hand cupped the back of your neck, tilting your gaze back towards him. It was the gentle nature of his touch that sent heat spilling into your heart. Anakin flared to life right before your eyes with every passing minute.
Undoing his belt, you allowed yourself a moment to admire what lay beneath the leather. What he always drew your attention away from. The skin was burnt, scarred beyond anything you’d ever seen before, but that never mattered to you. He stood stiff, his other hand pressed against the wall, helmet focused on you. Almost like he was unsure of what would happen.
Would you not care? Or would what remained not be what you wanted?
“Oh…” you gasped when he was finally free.
He was scarred there too, you’d felt it before. Except you weren’t shocked by that; no you were surprised by how worked up he was. The glossy sheen of precum building up at the tip practically dripped down your palm as you held him—begging for you to taste. Leaning forward, you took the head of his cock into your mouth, the guttural moan he let out sending a flare of heat through your body.
“Is this for me?” you asked sweetly, knowing it would only succeed in riling him up even more.
He grunted, his hand pushing you forward until his cock was once more back in your mouth. Although you didn’t mind in the slightest. Not when his addicting salty tang spread on your tongue the longer you sucked on the head. He was shameless with the sounds he made. Entirely focused on his pleasure, but you felt the way he softly rubbed his thumb along your neck, sending goosebumps down your skin.
“Take me deeper,” he said, already knowing you were heading that way anyways. “I know you can.”
You moaned when he hit the back of your throat, his hips thrusting forward slightly until you gagged. That alone only made him do it again. Pressing against the firm line that stood between the both of you. He wouldn’t make you do anything you didn’t want—as long as you gave him control. Something you were more than okay with handing over.
It’s not like you had any semblance of it before he became Darth Vader. Anakin had always been one to take what he deemed he deserved. Except when it came to you, he always gave you the choice. Even now as your nose brushed the base of his cock, your throat squeezing him so tight his whole body shuddered, you still held the choice.
You sucked in a breath when he pulled away, tears streaming down your cheeks and spit covering your chin. Part of you wanted to keep going—to feel him spill down your throat—but you knew that wasn’t what he was here for. Dragging you up, he pressed the cold shell of his helmet against your forehead, hands grasping your hips tightly.
“I need—” He cut himself off, a loud breath reverberating through his modulator. 
For the first time that night you felt it. The small flicker of blue in his otherwise black Force signature. Only in moments like this, when his desperation practically permeated the air, did you find your Anakin.
The only thing stronger than Palpatine’s hold over him had always been the love he felt for you—that was clear to you now.
“I know,” you murmured, leading him back and watching as he sat on your bed. His large frame practically took up the entire room. He spread his legs, allowing you to step between them, but you had a different plan altogether.
Clambering onto his lap, you held yourself up as you positioned his cock at your entrance. Your slick practically pooled over him, making it easier for you to take him in one thrust. But rather than rush this, you held yourself there. Hovering over his needy and wanting cock—making him wait for the one thing he so desperately needed. The blue flickered again, vibrating through you and forcing a gasp from your lungs.
You longed to pull it closer until it enveloped you entirely; til you suffocated from its light. But whatever remained was now small and fleeting, only seen in moments like this. His grasp turned harsh, impatient. Letting you know that he only had so much left in him before he took back the small sliver of control he allotted you.
Your whole body shook as you finally lowered yourself, feeling the stretch of his cock sliding into your cunt. A growl ripped from his chest, his hands pressing you down further and watching in delight as your head fell back, a garbled shout echoing off the walls. You went dizzy with the delicious mixture of pain and pleasure. It rushed through you, setting each nerve in your body alight with a burning fire.
Which only made everything shine brighter.
Light flooded his senses, your Force signature practically bleeding out into the room. And he took it. He swallowed it whole in his never ending darkness with the hope that you were never extinguished.
“More,” you gasped, fingers digging into the leather that covered his shoulder.
He shoved his hips upward, grinding against you and tearing a sound from your chest that seared into his mind instantly. You were a wanton mess. Barely hanging on to the person you were thirty minutes ago—before he came back into your life. Instead there you were. The lover who fed off of his darkness; who took what the Jedi Order claimed was forbidden and begged for more.
“Maker—fuck—I-I’m oh fuck—” You made no sense, but that’s the way he wanted you. An incoherent babbling mess that rode his cock to chase that feeling only he could bring you.
Lifting yourself up slightly, you dropped back down haphazardly, hating the emptiness that came with his cock slipping out of you. A sound tore through his modulator, his hands tightening on your hips as you set a brutal pace. He groaned when your walls tightened around him, the sound of your skin slapping against the leather of his pants echoing in the room. If you listened closely you could hear the wet squelch of your slick as he set his own pace, pounding into you without abandon.
“Please, Anakin please,” you cried, unsure of what you were begging for.
He seemed to know though.
Without a response, his hand wrapped around your throat, pressing down tightly as he thrusted upwards even harder. The lack of oxygen seemed to only heighten the sensation you chased—pleasure building up to an almost painful degree in your body.
He bent you to his will, guiding your body in a way that felt familiar. You didn’t have to think when he was here, didn't need to focus your energy on any of this, because he did it for you. His gloved thumb pressed against your lips until you opened up with ease, sucking his finger into your mouth with a moan. It gave you a chance to take in a deep breath before he clamped down tight around your throat again. Turning your vision hazy.
“Good,” he muttered, pulling the spit slicked finger from your mouth. Only to press it firmly against your clit.
Your body arched, a broken cry falling from your lips as tears streamed down your face. It was too much, yet you couldn’t find it in yourself to ask him to stop. You didn’t want him to. The pleasure nearly blinded you with each thrust of his cock into your dripping cunt. But what made you fall wasn’t the feeling of him finally striking against the spot that made your body curl in on itself.
No, it was the image he projected in your mind.
“That’s what you like huh,” Anakin’s voice grunted in your head, his blue eyes just as bright as before.
You sobbed out a garbled yes, eyes rolling back. The image continued. A bright blue light wrapped itself around you, nearly burning you from the inside out as he pinched your clit between his fingers. And you chased it; grabbed onto the sensation tightly and let it fill your chest until you swore your heart stopped beating.
“I want you to cum. Let me see my pussy drip for me,” he spit, dragging you closer until you were pressed so tight it nearly hurt.
“Don’t,” you gasped, shoving the image of Anakin away from your mind, eyes focusing on the empty soulless black mask he wore. His hand let up slightly, allowing you breath to speak. “I want to see you. Not him.”
Warmth spread through your chest when his hips stuttered, a groan reverberating against your breast. You wished you could kiss him. Feel the hot press of his lips on yours, but this—feeling him thrust into you quickly—was enough. His hand tightened again as his cock drove up into you harshly, hitting right where you needed to fly off the edge. Your mouth fell open, a broken sob making its way through as the all encompassing heat you so desired began to spill through your body.
A snarl ripped through your very being when he finally joined you, spurting into your swollen cunt and filling you until you leaked around the base of him. Except he didn’t stop. He pushed forward, thrusting into you until pain filtered through the pleasure. Once more you were shoved into that bliss, drowning in it with no way out.
Sobbing his name, you felt your body shake as he finally ceased his movements, allowing you to sag against him. The energy was completely depleted from you and he knew it. Which is why he didn’t move. Simply breathed deeply, his softening cock still deep in you, causing you to moan slightly at every soft twitch.
“How long until you have to go?” you sighed, your fingers tracing random shapes against his armor.
“Soon.”
“Will you come back?”
You knew you wouldn’t receive an answer. You never did, because even he didn’t know when Palpatine would finally release him again from his grasp. He let out a breath, his hands cupping your ass as he molded you to him. The blue light still flickered amidst the darkness, turning his once bleak Force signature a brilliant midnight color. And for a moment you saw the real him. The man who lay beyond the layers of his armor.
Laying a kiss against the cold shell of his mask, you allowed yourself a moment to be enveloped by him. The darkness would return eventually, wiping away the man who sat beneath you. But for now, he was here and he was yours.
Smiling, you pressed against it with your own, feeling him shudder beneath you. It was like looking at the night sky—a sight you wanted to keep until you were left alone once more. Curling around his body, you allowed sleep to finally overtake you, your mind soothed by the soft touch of the Force he pressed against you.
Only then did you realize.
In the small space of your home, beneath the strain of a galaxy under siege, your Anakin finally found his way home again.
917 notes · View notes
mayloma · 3 months
Text
Where You Are - Part 1
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Pairing: AU Viking!Geralt x female reader
Series masterlist
Summary: It's the morning Geralt and the other men of the village set off to go into battle.
Word count: 3.7k
Warnings: 18+, NSFW, melancholy, a goodbye, a little angst, fluff, smut, oral (f receiving), p in v sex, body fluids. 
Author’s note: To be honest, there’s a lot I don’t know about this fic yet. Among other things, I don’t know if the journey will begin and end at this point or if there’ll be more to tell. However, I’d like to share this part of the story with you while I’ll try to figure it out.  💕
Pictures: from Canva and Pinterest. Full credit to the owners.
Dividers: by saradika
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It is still dark outside. And it will stay dark. 
It is one of those days when the sun fails to burst through the heavy blanket of clouds darkening the sky. Withal, countless tiny snowflakes, each barely bigger than a grain kernel, have begun to sail down on the ground. And they cover the village in a delicate veil, white and cold as ice.
It is not the time to go into battle. (Has there ever been such time?) But this war doesn’t care about the winter descending on the land, and for a certainty, it doesn’t care about the winter it leaves in the hearts of those who stay behind. 
And so you got up long before dawn this morning to prepare breakfast for your husband. While he sits at the table, digging in the fresh bread and last night’s leftover stew, you wrap bread and fruits for him to eat on the way, as much as you can spare. 
His bundle is already packed, leaning against the wall of your hut, next to his swords that gleam in the light of the fireplace. 
As you sat by the fire last night, he pulled up a chair to sit beside you, like he does so often when the day is done. And while you darned a snag in his cloak, he carefully cleaned and sharpened the blades. 
Your eyes flicked between the black woolen fabric in your lap and his form, trying to memorize every detail of his appearance, even though it has long been etched into your mind. However, you’ll probably never get enough of watching him maintain his weapons. There is something calm, something unbudgeable about him and that pensive expression on his face whenever his steady hands wander over steel and silver. And you saw him stare into the crackling fire while his fingers absentmindedly traced Renfri’s broach. 
“Promise not to get involved in affairs that aren’t yours,” you said softly.  
His fingers paused, and you saw the corner of his mouth twitch before his gaze lit on you, golden and glowing like the dancing flames in front of you. 
“It might not be my choice to be made,” he said slowly. “Will a promise that I’ll try suffice for you, Little Bird?” 
His deep, raspy voice resonated in the darkness for a few moments, and although there was a touch of irony in it, there was also truth. 
“Whatever increases the chance of having you come back home will suffice for me,” you replied firmly, locking eyes with him. 
The hint of a smile curled the corners of his mouth, a curt nod signaling his approval. And yet, he remained silent.
He can’t promise you to come back. You know that he can’t. Not this time. Not ever. The world is too dark, too uncertain for such grand promises these days where nothing ever lasts, neither the good nor the bad. 
Nevertheless, the threads of your destiny are irretrievably entangled with his, binding you to each other. In this life. And in the next. Until Ragnarök and beyond, as you promised each other countless times. 
There wasn’t much you could have done in the here and now, and so you made love all night, rough and desperate, then again so slow and gentle it made you want to die right there in his arms. 
Your love left its traces all over your bodies, dark and harsh, as you engraved yourselves into each other’s skin with teeth and lips and nails. Those marks are there for the time being. And yet, they’re fleeting, and they will fade someday soon. Contrary to the scars both of you have been carrying since the day your paths crossed. 
It was also the day both of you almost died, killed by a dread with no name he saved you from. The monster that still haunts you in your dreams once in a while caused him grievous injuries in the fight, and it took you the last of your strength to drag him to your hut.
You spent weeks trying to cure his wounds, and you needed a plethora of healing herbs, teas and ointments and dressing, and every bit of knowledge your foster mother had taught you. In the end, you saved each other, sealing what destiny had long planned for you, ever since the beginning of time. 
You carry the scars of that fateful day with you, and you carry the ink under your skin, intertwined lines that mark you as the White Wolf’s mate and him as yours. 
Those marks will last when he rides out of the village with the other men, traveling toward the unknown and a battle that shouldn’t be theirs to fight.  
You already see him in your mind's eye, on Roach’s back, his pale white hair and vigilant golden eyes concealed under the hood of his cloak. He’ll keep a bit aloof from the others, like he always does, from strangers and even from the villagers who are supposed to be his people. In truth, however, they will never accept him as one of them. They know they need him, and they tolerate him, albeit grudgingly. But they also fear him, and they trust him as little as he trusts them. 
The rumors are spoken in hushed voices, at hearthfires, and behind closed doors. And yet they are there. Rumors about that man, the witcher, who can be no other than the human shape of Fenrir - son of Loki and prisoner in Asgard until the day of Ragnarök, where he'll finally break free and devour Odin and the sun herself. There are rumors about that man, who appeared in the village out of nowhere on the day he saved you. Before they knew it, he had made you his wife - you, the late healer's foundling they had always been a bit suspicious of. He had insinuated himself into their midst, and they were certain that his presence adumbrates the end of all times. 
Once spoken, the rumors stuck, and nothing Geralt had done for this village could cleanse them away. No matter how many times he had set out, putting his life at risk.  
It’s moments like this, when you realize how truly alone he will be amidst a whole army, that your heart tenses and fear threatens to flood your veins. 
“Don’t.” Geralt’s low voice reaches your ears, and his arms embrace you from behind, pulling your back against his chest. 
You didn’t even notice he already finished his breakfast and stepped toward you. And you involuntarily let yourself sink back, allowing your eyes to flutter shut and your body to lean against him. 
He feels so warm, and the heat of his body slowly creeps up your spine. To your neck and your shoulders and your arms. Until it permeates your every limb. And you take deep breaths to your stomach, trying to relax your shoulders like he taught you to. 
“Good girl,” he mumbles, lowering his head until his lips ghost your ear. “Don’t freeze. Don’t let it take control. What will be, will be, and you can’t change what is destined. But you can control your actions at this moment.”
“I know,” you whisper, nuzzling closer to him. “It’s just so… hard sometimes. And sometimes, I don't know how I’m supposed to go on… if…”
“I know, Little Bird. Believe me, I know. But you have to go on. I want you to promise you’ll go on. In any case. Promise me!” he urges.
And as you carefully turn around in his arms, the concern, the pain in his golden eyes takes your breath away. 
You put one hand on his chest, your palm on the familiar wolf amulet, and your fingertips on his heart. Your other hand rests on the Web of Wyrd pendant between your breasts underneath your nightgown. What will be, will be. Just as the three sisters, the norns at the root of the world tree, decide.  
“I promise.” 
He nods. And he smiles.
He smiles his usual hint of a smile, but still, you marvel at how much warmth it can radiate. And then, he takes your hand and brings it to his lips, kissing your fingertips. One after the other. 
Your fingers brush his unusually clean-shaven cheek. And then, you run your hand through his hair. Your digits get tangled in his thatch, and as you withdraw your hand, a long strand falls into his face. 
“May I braid it for you?” you ask, brushing the curl behind his ear. 
“Mmhm.” His hum is almost a sigh, and he nuzzles his cheek against your hand before he steps to the bed, sitting down on its edge. 
His eyes follow you as you get a comb and a short leather cord, and they wander up and down your body, as you walk over to him. All of a sudden, you’re overly aware of the thin linen billowing around your legs under the warm shawl you wrapped around your form. And you're overly aware of the sweet, sore sensation between your legs. And your fingertips ghost his cheek as you climb onto the bed, kneeling behind him on the soft furskins. 
As you begin to comb his hair, carefully detangling the long snow-white strands, the faint scent of milk and honey from the soap you used last night for his bath floods your nostrils. And you recall how he felt under your fingers as you thoroughly lathered his hair and his body. Warm and slippery skin. His hair, sometimes coarse and sometimes soft. And countless scars, some hard, some raised, others smooth and soft. 
As you gather the hair from his temples, braiding them to an artful pattern at the back of his head, you silently beg the gods to protect him, to ward him from death and injuries and from any malice lurking on his way. To bring him back safely. 
You fix the braid with the black leather cord, smoothing down the silky strands falling freely onto his back. And then, you fail to pull away. Instead, you wrap your arms around him, nestling up to his back - too close the moment when he’ll walk out the door. 
You lean in, pressing your lips to his temple, and then you slowly kiss your way down his cheek to his mouth. One kiss after another while Geralt’s eyes close and his lips slightly part in response to your caress. 
He hums quietly, and as you arrive at the corner of his mouth, you pause right there, letting him, letting you hang in the air for the length of a few heartbeats while your blood begins to seethe with longing. 
As he casts up his eyes and his glowing gaze meets yours, you forget everything around you. You forget the noises from outside where the men are already assembling on the village square. You forget his departure and the imminent danger. You forget the oncoming winter and the cold and darkness it’ll bring. And you forget the loneliness you’ll have to endure. All that vanishes in that moment because he’s still here, right here with you. 
“Little Bird,” he whispers urgently.
And then he kisses you, kisses your lips that are still swollen from a thousand bygone kisses. Yet, he captures your mouth, still reckless in his yearning, and yet, you need this right now, need to feel that he hates to leave you as much as you hate letting him go. 
And he continues to kiss you as he turns in your embrace, pulling you closer, closer until your body is pressed flushed against him, and you lose your balance, clutching his shoulders. But he holds you tight, and then he carefully lets you sink down on the mattress, hovering over you without abandoning your mouth. His hand, however, rucks up your nightgown, and you moan quietly as he settles down between your legs, forcing them apart for him.   
“No!” he growls as your hands move to his pants, and then his teeth dig into your bottom lip, drawing a whimpering from your mouth. “I need to taste you first,” he mumbles, kissing his way down your throat. Down the valley of your breasts, running his tongue over your pebbled nipples showing underneath your nightgown. 
“Geralt,” you whisper as he plants more kisses on your belly, and “Geralt!” you squeak as his teeth grace the soft skin on your hip, and his hand hastily rucks up your gown further to expose your most sensitive spots for him. 
“Need to taste you,” he hums against your skin as his lips brush your thighs and your mound, his breath hot on your wet flesh. 
And your groan blends with his as he licks a long stripe from your dripping opening to your swollen pearl. 
“Mmmm, so sweet, Little Bird!” 
As you briefly raise your head, you see that his eyes are closed, a raptured expression on his features, as if you are the sweetest thing he has ever tasted. However, as he casts up his eyes, seeing you look at him, probably all flustered and breathless, his expression quickly changes to cocky. And he swirls his tongue around your pearl in a way that never fails to make your mind go blank.
The sound leaving your lips is something between a gasp and a moan, and you feel his hum, his smile against your wetness, before he repeats the movement, sending a wave of heat down your spine. 
“Oh gods,” you whimper, throwing your head back against the pillow, balling your fists around the bedding, not even trying to brace yourself for what’s to come.
Instead, you just let it happen, and you leave yourself to him, allowing him to carry you away. 
He is gentle with you this time, so damn gentle, and yet, he couldn’t burn you hotter.
The twilight of your hut becomes blurred and hazy as blistering heat washes over you, churning you, making you helplessly writhe and squirm on the bed. And the room fills with your moans and whimperings and his groans and grunts and the lewdest sounds of his mouth feasting on you.
As your hips begin to buck, eagerly rocking your burning core against his tongue, you feel his body picking up your movements. And his hoarse groan vibrates against your flesh as he humps the mattress, desperately longing for the friction. Desperate for you. And then, his tongue swipes around your pearl in the most perfect way, making you arch your back like a bow while an undefinable sound rises from your throat. 
And he continues what he started and what can no longer be stemmed as your arousal surges inside you like a wave making landfall. Your movements grow desperate, and so do your sounds as you move with him, so eager to break, so eager to get carried away. 
As the wave finally breaks, as you break, and liquid fire sloshes through your veins, his hands hold you in a firm grip that feels iron and oddly safe at the same time. And his lips and his tongue lap around your core while your climax ripples through you in gentle and oh-so-delicious waves. 
At some point, your body goes limp on the bed, and your chest heaves with shaky breaths as you gasp for air.  
“Breathe!” he reminds you, planting more open-mouthed kisses on your swollen flesh, humming with relish as he laps at your dripping opening.  
And then he lays a trace of kisses upward, dwelling on your breasts. 
“Geralt,” you whimper, hastily wrapping your arms around him as he closes his lips around the puffy buds, only a thin layer of damp fabric between his tongue and your soft skin.  
Then his mouth finds yours, and your kiss floods your tongue with the aroma of your lust and his barely suppressed greed, so alluring, so irresistible your heart doesn’t stand a chance to calm down. And you feel his contended hum against your lips as you moan into his mouth. 
“You sing the sweetest songs for me, Little Bird,” he mumbles. “Can you give me one more, hm?”
“Yes,” you breathe, and your hands fumble for his pants without missing a beat. 
You fail to fight back the smirk creeping upon your face as you yank the buttons open, and your teeth dig into your bottom lip as he hastily slips off his pants, freeing his throbbing cock. 
He looks more than ready; his thick, veiny shaft rock-hard, his tip colored a dark purplish red, shining with thick droplets of precum you long to taste on your tongue. A part of you still wonders how you’re even able to take him. Yet, your body opens up for him as if by itself, and you feel more heat pooling between your legs as you spread them wider and your hands reach out for him to pull him closer to you. 
As you feel his tip against your opening, too sensitive from last night, you inhale sharply, clinging to his arms.  
“I’ll be gentle,” he promises, and you nod, briefly squeezing your eyes shut. 
And he holds you, planting soft kisses on your forehead, your eyelids, your cheeks, as he enters you, slowly, bit by bit, pausing again and again while he works you open for him. And you welcome him, reveling in every sensation while the waves of fire that just drew back begin to rush back on you. 
Both of you breathe heavily as he bottoms out inside you, pausing for a moment, and you cast up your eyes to look at him, at his features, almost too beautiful for this world, and at his golden eyes that seem to see so much more than anyone you’ve ever met. Once again, they seem to see right through you, to your soul. And you writhe and squirm under his burning gaze. 
“Fuck!” he mutters. “Fuck! Oh gods…” And he grits his teeth, his muscles twitching as he fights a silent battle with himself. 
It’s a hopeless fight, and its hopelessness is partly to blame on you. 
However, you can’t help but roll your hips, whimpering as you try to get him to move, to feel more of him. 
“Fuck!” he growls through clenched teeth, and his fingers dig into your skin. “I can’t be gentle if you fuck yourself on my cock like that.”  
And then he pinches your nipples. The whining he elicits from you turns into a moan as he repeats the coarse caress. And your hips buck as if by themselves. 
“Then don’t be gentle,” you whisper. 
“Little Bird…,” he breathes, a faltering protest. 
“Please! Please, take me, Geralt!”
Your soft plea is all it takes for him to give in. And your unbridled moans drift through the room as he finally fucks you.  
You wrap your legs around him, urging him to amp up the force of his thrusts while he fucks you into the mattress. He is relentlessness and abandon, a force of nature, devouring your body and soul. And a sea of flames washes around you, rising higher and higher until it surrounds you from head to toe. 
He holds you, just as much as you hold him, and then he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin and his desperate groan reverberating through your body. And his need, the pure need in those final thrusts, makes your feet lose touch with the ground. 
And you whirl around, weightlessly, as he spills himself inside you, painting your walls with hot jets, and you clench and flutter around him. 
The end comes all too soon. And you haven’t even remotely stopped floating when you already perceive that the voices, the clopping of hooves, and the commands being barked outside have grown louder, announcing the approaching departure. 
As he pulls back from your heat, you can’t help that hot tears flood your eyes, and you briefly bury your face in his hair. So as not to let him see. 
But of course, he already knows, and he gently withdraws from your chokehold to look at you. 
He doesn’t say a word. Instead, his lips dance across your face, kissing away the stray tears in the corners of your eyes and the lines of worry on your forehead and around your lips. 
As he sees you looking back at him with calm, dark eyes, a soft smile curls the corners of his mouth. And then, he gets up. 
You roll over on your side, watching him clean himself up before he pulls his pants back on. Then, his boots. And his cloak. 
He steps to the stove, putting two more logs on the fire before he pours tea into a mug he sets down on the bedside table. 
Then, he gets two fresh cloths, wetting one with warm water. And he sits down on the edge of the bed, indicating you to spread your legs for him. 
Goosebumps bloom on your skin as he gently cleans you up and dries you off, and again, you see him smile. 
He adjusts your nightgown, and then he envelops you in a thick woolen blanket, pulling it up to your chin. 
“Stay here for a while, will you?” he says quietly. “So I know with certainty where you are. So I know it at least this one more time, before I can only wonder where you are, and what you’re doing, and if you are well.” 
“I’ll be here, Geralt,” you say, cradling his face in your hands. “I’ll be here, and I’ll be thinking about you by day and dreaming about you by night. I’ll be waiting for you to come back to me.” 
And his lips move, without a sound passing them, but the kiss he presses to your mouth tastes like the promise he can’t give. 
“Witcher!” a man yells from outside, banging at the door. “You’re late!”
“Gods,” Geralt growls, resignedly leaning his forehead against yours, not even bothering to give a reply. 
“Go now,” you whisper. 
“They won’t leave without me, anyway,” he shrugs, smirking as you chuckle quietly. 
“Still.”
A last kiss. And then, he gets up.  
At the door, he grabs his bundle and slings his swords over his shoulder. As his hand dwells on the door latch, he turns to you, a lugubrious smile playing on his lips. 
“I love you, Little Bird,” he says quietly. 
“And I love you,” you reply, swallowing hard around the aching lump in your throat. “Until Ragnarök and beyond.”
“Until Ragnarök and beyond.” 
And then, he walks out the door.
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446 notes · View notes
torukmaktoskxawng · 3 months
Note
Could you please do one where Ronal and Tonowari react to the reader or OC, which ever is more your thing, having lots of battle scars from the war in the first movie? 🧁❤️ I love your writing! It’s so awesome to read and I can’t wait for the next part of your Tonowari x Ronal x OC fanfic!
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(Stunning, beautiful, elegant. Gifs by @stallislump )
Pairing: Ronal/Reader/Tonowari
Taglist: @mooniequeen
Warnings: non-gender specific reader, fluff, mentions of war, scars, heavily implied stuff (nsfw? idk, but I'd read this at work)
Na'vi Words: ikran - mountain banshee, olo'eyktan - male clan leader, tsahik - spiritual clan leader, kelku - house/home
A/N: This is short but sweet. I hope you like it! (Note: Stand alone! Not a part of the tsamsiyu ta'em series)
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They had noticed your scars the first day they met you, a Na'vi flying in on an ikran alongside the gunship Jakesully had radioed in to help Young Kiri. They knew Sky People were coming, but they weren't expecting you.
The Metkayina have heard many stories about the clans that came together under Toruk Makto's leadership. Even from as far as the reef, the Na'vi heard about the war with the Sky People and the casualties left behind. Such war and casualties were shown on your skin, displayed like a story. Long, thin, cut-like marks ran up and down your legs and part of your torso, while small, circular scars riddled your right shoulder and chest. The skin that healed over your wounds was a pale blue compared to the rest of your skin and stripes. When Toruk Makto introduced you to the olo'eyktan and tsahik of the Metkayina, they couldn't take their eyes off of you.
Your style and the colors of your attire were not of Omatikaya. Tonowari and Ronal later learn that you were originally from the Tayrangi clan but stayed with the Omatikaya after the war. As they got to know you, they learned that your family members were great warriors but had tragically died in the battle of the Hallelujah Mountains. After their deaths, you saw no reason to return home with your clan and made a life for yourself in the forests with Toruk Makto's clan.
Considering you as an entrusted friend and ally, Jake had asked you to stay in Awa'atlu for a little while so he would feel more secure and able to protect his family. And while you stayed among the Metkayina, both Tonowari and Ronal grew closer to you and wished to learn more about you and your stories... specifically the story behind your scars.
Originally, you didn't feel inclined to share the story, simply stating that you earned your scars in the battle against the Sky People. However, as you grew closer to the Metkayina clan leaders, you began to let yourself be more open and vulnerable toward them, which is where you find yourself sitting with the pair, alone in their kelku. It was a late night and their children were out with the Sully children to show them the beauty of night fishing.
It was Tonowari who boldly reached his hand out and gently grazed a scar on your shoulder, his thumb tenderly pressing into the raised, circular mark. "Who did this to you?"
"The Sky People," you found yourself saying without hesitance, "I fell off my ikran and survived," you originally pointed to the long, thin scars you earned from falling and crashing, then you moved onto the rounded scars around your shoulder, "These scars are from their weapons made of metal. They call them guns and bullets. Any closer and they would have pierced my heart."
Neither of the clan leaders looked pleased by that statement, and Ronal took her husband's boldness a step further. The tsahik leaned down and placed a chaste kiss over a bullet-shaped scar that was located near your collar, her warm lips leaving behind a tingle underneath your skin when she pulled away.
The look she gave you sent your heart racing, her gaze heated and foggy as she stared at you through her lashes, "Thank the Great Mother that they didn't."
One thing led to another and you found yourself in the pair's undivided attention all throughout the night, together learning where each and every one of your scars were located on your body. While you weren't necessarily self-conscious about the scars (you were mostly proud and showed them off as proof that you survived and won a war), you had begun shying away from their touch whenever they got too close to any specific markings. But over time, throughout the night, you began to relax and feel safe, allowing the two Reef Na'vi to explore you in ways you've never felt before.
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MASTERLIST
REQUESTS
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flowerandblood · 5 months
Text
The Cry of the Sea
Halloween Request Oneshots Series
[ pirate! • Aemond x mermaid! • female ]
[ warnings: sex content, virginity loss, fingering, smut, angst, abduction, violence, threats, obsession ]
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[ description: A mermaid who rarely surfaces of the water decides to save a drowning boy. While she tries to keep him safe, she is kidnapped by strange, terrifying people, taken away from her mother and her home. On her way, she meets a captain with one eye who will decide her future fate. Obsessive, possessive, dark!Aemond.]
*Warning! Note from the author: The heroine has a name because of the plot, but apart from that there are no detailed descriptions of her appearance. Oneshot is written from a third-person perspective.
*English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy!*
My others works: Masterlist
____
She had only heard about who people were from stories and what she learned made her rarely floated to the surface of the water. Her mother said they were cruel, that they killed through need, waged wars and destroyed each other, cold and ruthless.
She also said that in order to walk on the ground they needed two limbs, as they had two arms, so in place of their fins were to be so-called legs.
She never dared to ask her mother how she knew such things. She spoke of something like a sound, like music, that it reverberated through the air and was pleasant to the ears, that it had a rhythm, that people danced and jumped to it. She couldn't imagine it; she, her mother and the other inhabitants of the underwater city communicated with finger gestures.
One day she was awakened by a muffled bang, something she had never heard before, and she swam out into the night depths, seeing little. She widened her eyes in surprise to see not the night sky but an orange glow above the surface of the water. She looked back, thinking in horror that she should return to her shelter, but decided that she would just look out to see what was happening, to see if they were in danger.
So she surfaced, feeling the air in her nostrils which caused her pain, she used them so rarely that her lungs were not properly developed, she felt like she was suffocating.
She plugged her ears, terrified, hearing loud shot after shot, the great mountain with sails that her mother called a ship was hitting another masthead with fire, and she was between them, not understanding what was happening, panicking, hiding under the water again.
The sound was instantly muffled as she plunged into the depths, but she suddenly heard a loud splash beside her and saw the body of a white-haired boy struggling to lift himself up, unsuccessfully. She could see his hind limbs, his legs unable to lift him higher like her fin, merely waving fruitlessly in the watery depths, his body sinking lower and lower to the bottom.
She remembered her mother's words about how people couldn't breathe underwater and once they fell into it, they died.
So she swam after him, terrified, grasping him in her hands; he was struggling, terrified, but she managed to hold him and they emerged from the water together, panting loudly and coughing.
"Daeron!" She heard a loud, low, desperate cry, which frightened her, for the first time hearing the words, human speech, sounded strange, not like the noise of the water.
"Here!" She heard the childish, squeaky cry of the boy she was holding and plugged her ear with one hand, feeling a terrible pain. She heard the splash of water beside them and saw that a much smaller boat had fallen into the water.
There were people in it, big, pale, dirty, frightening.
She wanted to run away, but she was afraid that if she let go the boy would start sinking again, so she held him until they came closer and she helped him into the boat, panting hard, shivering all over. The men who sat inside looked at her in disbelief.
"Holy Seven. I think it's a mermaid!"
"Kill her, she can deceive with her singing!"
"Are you mad?! We'll get a fortune for her! We take her, let the captain decide."
She heard loud sounds spoken quickly, she felt like her head was going to explode, she wanted to turn around and submerge herself back, but she felt a large hand grab her by her hair.
Something strange came out of her throat, a sort of high pitched squealing sound that frightened her alone, and then she felt wetness in her eyes, even though she was fighting her way out she didn't make it, another man grabbed her by her shoulders and forcibly threw her into the lifeboat.
She was feeling that she was cold and wrapped her arms around herself, shivering all over, her half-naked body now surrounded by the cool night wind, one of the men shouted that they were swimming away and back up.
"Drop the net!"
"Don't hurt her! She saved me!" Squealed the boy she had rescued from death, pushing away the men who wanted to touch her, laughing loudly, amused, looking at her body. She was terrified and trembling all over, a white-haired child came up to her and embraced her, shivering along with her.
"It's going to be okay. I won't let you get hurt." He whispered softly, something in the sound he made of himself reassuring her.
She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling the moisture running down her cheeks, thinking only of the fact that she should have listened to her mother, and now she had to pay for her curiosity.
They threw her into a net like an animal, then lifted her up with a hand crane and her body suddenly fell to the wooden floor, lots of legs around her, lots of men talking loudly to each other. She covered her ears and cried, feeling only pain, terrified and frozen, and suddenly she felt that something was wrong.
The voices around her fell silent as she lifted her gaze and glanced over her shoulder.
In place of her shiny fin, covered in beautiful scales, were two long limbs, the same as theirs.
Legs.
She covered her mouth with her hand and turned away, another terrifying high-pitched sound came from her throat that felt like it tore her skin and she cried out loudly, terrified.
What had happened?
Where was her tail?
Her mother never spoke of her father.
She said he was not worth mentioning.
"He chose the sea, but not me." She had told her once, but it was only now that it was beginning to occur to her what she might have meant.
"What is the meaning of this?" She heard a low, cold voice and saw above her a man with a large scar on his left cheek and a black eye patch, he had the same white hair as the child she had saved, except that his was longer, tied with a black ribbon. He looked at her in disbelief, as if she were some strange, frightening creature.
"It's a mermaid, Captain! I saw for myself, as long as she was in the water she had a long tail!"
"That's right, sir, if we sell her we'll get crores!"
"Don't sell her, brother! She saved me!" She heard the voice of the same little boy holding him by the sleeve of his black leather jacket, his gaze directed at her again, this time focused and excited.
"We're turning back to the harbour. Find her some clothes, nobody can touch her." He said, and after a moment the men lifted her up, although she tried to pull away, it was to no avail.
They forced her to put on a long, smelly cloth and gave her some scratchy material, although when she covered herself with it made her feel warmer.
They locked her in a room from which she could only see the sea through a small hole and she watched in despair as she moved away from her home, from her mother. She pressed her forehead against the wooden wall and cried quietly.
She heard footsteps, quiet at first, then louder and louder, the door to her cabin opened and there the same terrifying man with a black eye patch stood over her, closing the door behind him.
"Who are you?" He asked, and she looked at him with big eyes, not understanding what she was supposed to do, what they wanted from her. She only swallowed loudly, not taking her eyes off him.
He came closer to her, and she stepped back quickly, pressing her back against the wall, breathing loudly, terrified.
"Don't be afraid." He said a little more calmly, kneeling in front of her, something unsettling in his eye, some kind of unhealthy fascination. She saw the gesture of his tongue running swiftly over his lower lip, as if he was just preparing to eat something tasty.
"Who. Are. You." He repeated word after word and tapped his finger against her chest hidden under her blanket, she flinched at the gesture, curling into herself, moving as far away from him as possible.
He lifted his hand and pressed it to his chest, wearing only a white chemise tucked into black leather trousers.
"Aemond." He said calmly. After a moment, he placed his hand on her chest, looking at her expectantly.
"You?"
She wondered if he wanted to know who she was, if he had just confessed his name to her.
She saw his eye widen as she lifted her hand, touched her thumb with her pointing finger, signifying the syllable 'Le', and then lifted her pointing finger up, signifying the lone vowel 'a'.
Lea.
He looked at her, shaking his head, sitting down in front of her.
"What does that mean?" She heard him say the words quickly, but completely misunderstood what it was supposed to mean, so she showed him the same gesture signifying her name once more.
He ran his thumb over his lip, looking at her intensely, tapping his fingers on his knee, then rose suddenly, startling her with it, opening some cupboard with a loud clatter, taking out some large object.
She saw that what he was holding in his hands had cards and patterns, he turned it towards her, moving closer to her and it was only then that she noticed it was letters.
Her mother had told her about them and had even drawn them for her explaining that people used them to write down words and their sounds.
She had written what her name and a few other sentences would sound like in their language, wanting to give her a comparison of how their gestures translated into their syllables.
She touched her finger quickly to a letter she recognised as 'L'. He looked at it curiously and read it out loud.
"L" He said and she nodded, pointing then to the "E" and "A".
He looked at her in disbelief, the corner of his mouth twitching in what she might have called a smile if not for the glint in his eye.
"Lea." He whispered, and she blinked, understanding that he had said her name as a whole, that that was what it sounded like. She nodded and he licked his lips excitedly, moving far too close to her, placing the book in her lap.
He began to point his fingers at more letters, and she followed the movement of his hand, trying to decipher what he was trying to convey to her.
Y O U S A V E D M Y B R O T H E R
You
sa
ved
my
bro
ther
You saved my brother.
The fair-haired boy.
She looked at him puzzled, swallowing loudly and nodded. She heard him sigh with some kind of relief and joy, happy to be able to communicate with her, pressing his lips together, leaning over the book again.
DAERON
"Daeron." She choked out the word she had heard when she had held his brother in her arms, which apparently was what he had shouted then, terrified.
She heard their captain snort a laugh under his breath, running a hand over his face, looking at her in disbelief.
"Yes." He hummed softly, his voice seeming calmer and gentler to her. She leaned over the book, this time she wanted to tell him something, and he immediately squatted down, looking at the letters she was pointing at.
WHY
She glanced at him with her lips tightened and he looked at her, swallowing loudly, his gaze cooled. He stood up abruptly and she was unable to make a sound, not knowing how to stop him, he walked out and left her alone, locking the door.
She tried to lift herself up on those two strange limbs, but she was falling, they seemed limp and weak to her.
She preferred to crawl, wrapped herself in her blanket and fell asleep lying against the wall, crying silently, praying to the Drowned God to take her back to the sea.
The next day, the little boy she had saved brought her food and placed it in front of her, stroking her head, saying something quietly. He then ran away as if he should not come to her and closed the door behind him.
She spotted the fish and bread on her plate and began to eat quickly, hungry and thirsty, she was given some disgusting liquid in a metal jug, but she drank it, not having much choice.
She spent the whole day lying in one place and it was only at night that she heard the sound of the lock being opened, the same man standing over her again.
He approached her slowly, crouching on the floor in front of her, massaging his chin. She held his book pressed against her chest, tried to look through it earlier, but understood nothing of it.
He gently took it from her hand.
She shuddered as he laid down on the floor just behind her, resting his cheek against her shoulder, placing the open book in front of them, pointing one by one with his finger at the letters and syllables he had spoken so that she could see them, illuminated by the moonlight.
"We - are - sai - ling - to - King's - Lan - ding." He whispered softly, and she blinked, her lips tightening, understanding enough that they were sailing somewhere far away, that she would never see home again.
She closed her eyes and wept quietly, feeling her body begin to tremble, a shudder went through her as she felt his lips on her neck.
"Don't cry." He whispered in her ear softly, warmly, tenderly, and though she didn't know what it meant, she thought he sympathised with her.
"I have no choice. If I let you go now, my grandfather would kill me. You are a chance for us." He hummed the words into her ear, his wet, warm lips trailing higher and higher, she wondered what he was actually doing, why she was getting hot from this kind of touch, why she felt a pleasant pulsing and tension between her limbs.
They both started panting as his hand slipped between her legs and began to touch her, she felt that this was a very private and intimate place, her thighs clenched involuntarily but his fingers slipped inside anyway.
She heard his every move accompanied by a loud click of her juices, with every stroke he made a pleasant warmth and tickle went through her, she felt something hard on her buttocks and moaned softly.
"− fuck −" She heard him mutter behind her, from which a shudder went through her. She sobbed in surprise when she felt his finger suddenly inside her, clasping her hand on his wrist, terrified.
He only shushed her while moving him deep inside her, rubbing him against the place from which waves of pleasure passed through her, from which she lost the remnants of her strong will.
She didn't put herself against him when she felt him lift her thigh, as something hot, big and hard pushed against her entrance from below and began to slide into her flesh, pushing her core apart with her loud cry.
His free hand held her tightly, she clenched her fingers against his skin, panting along with him as he began to move suddenly, pressing his lips to her neck, to her cheek, whispering and groaning low some words whose meaning she didn't understand, his thrusts pushing her hot, throbbing muscles to the limit.
She had no idea what was actually happening, what they were doing, but it felt good, she felt pleasure, she needed it after so many hours of terror, so she let him do what he wanted, easing down completely, moaning loudly as he turned her onto her stomach and lifted her buttocks, sliding into her with loud, wet slaps, his breathing erratic, loud and aroused, his fingers tightened on her skin.
"− I'm going to keep you for myself − you'll swell from my seed and give me offspring born from the sea − my inheritance − oh, fuck −" He mumbled out, feeling her walls begin to clench against him hungrily, a wave of pleasure shook her entire body, stupefying her and making nothing reach her, she felt something hot spill inside her, and then there were only their loud, accelerated breaths.
"− mine −"
_____
Aemond Taglist:
(bold means I couldn't tag you)
@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess
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murphy-stamp · 4 months
Text
What's happening in Palestine is not "complicated", and it's not some insane "2000 year war about religion".
1917 : The Balfour Declaration was passed by the British, signing over the Palestinian land that was not their's to begin with to the Jewish people. Jewish people are not native to Palestine, and “israel” did not exist until 1948. The Balfour Declaration was the most controversial and contested documented in all of modern history.
1936 : A partition came into play, where the British once again promised the Palestinian land to be allocated to the Jewish people to become a "Jewish state". A 3 year revolt takes place to contest the partition which brought an end the the British army having anymore control over Palestine, and over 5000 Palestinians were killed. During this time the first armed zionist group was formed (Irgun) and they launched a series of unprecedented attacks against the Palestinian people.
1946 : Irgun bombed the King David Hotel which killed another 91 Palestinians, then in May of 1948 "israel" was formed which resulted in 750,000 Palestinians being displaced and 530 Palestinian villages being destroyed - this is referred to as the 1st Nakba (which means "disaster" in Arabic) - the 2nd Nakba started on October 7th. The remaining 22% of Palestine that had yet to be occupied was then divided into the Gaza Strip and The West Bank. That same year the UN passed a legislation that allowed Palestinian refugees to return home, but they were treated as second class citizens. "israel" controls the Palestinian education, prohibits their involvement in politics & elections, they control how much food and water they get, and their medical supplies.
1956-1966 : "israel" massacred the Palestinian villages Qalqilya, Kufr, Qassem, Khan Younis, and As-Samu.
1967 : "israel" occupied the remainder of historic Palestine in Gaza & The West Bank (and by occupy I mean they forcibly removed Palestinians from their homes, demolished their homes, or lived in the upper parts of their houses, forcing Palestinians to live in the lower halves, and then they built wire fences over top of these houses on the outside to block their view of the sky and so they could also throw garbage, boiling water, & human waste at the Palestinians walking the streets below. During that time another 300,000 Palestinians were displaced. The UN called for "israel" to leave Palestine, but they did not do that.
1976 : 1000's of hectares of Palestinian land were forcibly confiscated & protests were brutally shut down.
1987 : The first Intifada starts (which means the Palestinian revolution) where "isreal" established 45 more settlements on Palestinian land. A massive peaceful protest broke out by the Palestinians to show that the occupation & brutalization of their land and people was no longer acceptable. The IOF defence minister at the time, Yitzhak Rabin, ordered the IOF to break the bones of all Palestinians who were protesting. This is when the Hamas resistance group was founded (it was actually created initially by "israel" in hopes that it would divide the Palestinian people and shut down the Muslim Brother Hood - another resistance group). During that time 1000+ Palestinians were killed by the IOF.
1993 : the 2nd Intifada begins. The Oslo Accord is signed which was meant to being "peace" and a "2 state solution", but that just turned into more brutality by the IOF and another 5000+ Palestinians were killed. The IOF instigated Palestinian protestors with 1.3 million rounds of ammunition. Diana Buttu (a Palestinian-Canadian lawyer) made a statement saying the bill for a "2 state solution" was no more than a distraction for "israel" to carry out their plan in silence from the rest of the world which was always for the extermination, ethnic cleansing, and occupation of Palestine.
2014 : The Gaza War happened. This is when "israel" introduced the apartheid wall, which further isolated the Palestinians. They also launched a large scale attack on Gaza with ariel & naval fire power, 2500+ Palestinians were killed in just 50 days. In Gaza the IOF destroyed 83 schools, 10 healthcare centres, and 12,600 housing units.
2008-2023 : 8000+ more Palestinians were killed by the IOF, and now since october 7th 23,000+ Palestinians have been killed, and 1.6 million have been displaced.
This is one of the largest ongoing examples of colonial violence in the world today.
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sunofpandora · 3 months
Note
Heyyy so I saw your requests post and I’ve been dying to get this one off my chest, so how about a neteyam x omaticaya! warrior! reader where reader’s a fierce warrior (maybe a protege of one of the higher ups). And we all know Neteyam (the mighty warrior lol) is strong and also one of the best their age, but what if Neteyam had such intense feelings for her that all he wants to do is impress her but whenever she comes around he gets all klutzy and flustered? And of course she finds it funny and cute and all that jazz. Just fluff I NEED FLUFF
P.s. The decision to fulfill this request is yours and I won’t be upset if you decide you don’t want to. As long as you’re comfortable, all’s fine by me.
But yeaaa have a good day/night :)
Authors note:
Hi babes!
So I loved this request so much! So I decided to make my very first actual long series! ‘Virago’ is going to be an original work and one of my first long projects. Unfortunately, I will not have a TON of time to do smaller requests in between chapters but i will def try! I’m very excited for this and i wouldn't have even considered this without the request so thank you so, so much.   
                                     
                                                  V I R A G O                   
Part 1.
The Day the Sky Turned Red.
8.7k words.
𝓭𝓮𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓵𝓼/𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼/𝓼𝔂𝓷𝓸𝓹𝓼𝓲𝓼/
‘Y/n was made of fire. Oh, a goddess girl with lips of lightning and a caged Phoenx under her skin. Neteyam is just the ashes and remains of the heavens she crushed under her heel.’
When grief plagues the young warrior, Neteyam gives her a gift. But it is enough to console the flames in her heart?
Neteyam and reader having a sun x moon relationship (hello 'diaphanous’ readers <3)
Warnings: Descriptions of death/ parental death/ reader is a war orphan/ as always, spider, the reader, and Lo’ak are a trio/ Lo’ak and Reader being platonic soulmates?/ Spider and Reader being trauma twins/ Neteyam being lovesic/ Neteyam being nervous and shy around reader/ Neytiri being mother/ Jake being the husband i wish i had/ Tuk being a little sister and looking up to y/n/ Mentions of grace’s school.
Mentions of insecurity, blood, war, guns, reader being mommy/
I think that’s it?
Oh right, Reader fell first but neteyam fell WAY harder.
Extra info:
Y/n is one year younger than neteyam, the first part of this chapter is a flashback to when y/n was 15. Kiri, Lo’ak and Tuk are the agesthey are in atwow for the first part of the story. They age up in part 2 (in story)
(Ka’lik is the name of Y/ns father, her mother’s name is Zensira. Both were warriors, but Zensira was the best songstress in the clan. (Ninat go cry to the plant in the corner)) 
Super important note for the request sender:
Hey gorgeous so ik you asked for fluff and don't worry babes. I hear ya loud and clear. Unfortunately the first part of this chapter will be a bit angsty bc the creative juice were flowing and i got carried away but I swear on my grave the rest is nothing but fluff and lovey dovey shenanigans,
Not proofread
☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆
To some, surrender was a comfort. A sanctuary of softly spoken submission.
To Y/n? It was a ‘bitch move’
3 years ago.
Day the sky people returned.
Y/n is 15-16
The Na’vi say, every person is born twice.
That we can redeem ourselves in the eyes of the great mother. 
That being truly evil doesn't mean just craving the pain of others. 
That the life of a single diseased root does not kill the whole tree.
That darkness is deadly, because like the brothers and sisters of bountiful green that dwell in the great mother’s garden, we too need sunlight to grow.
Your mother always told you monsters aren't born from a seed.
They grow when they are deprived of light.
But sometimes, we find solace in even the darkest of places. 
That sometimes there's comfort in the dense night. Where others see hell, you build a home.
Sometimes we thrive in darkness because we feel we do not deserve the glory of sunlight. 
Is it wrong? Is it terrible of you?
To see light where the great mother’s grace and the violence of the sky demons collide?
Things that were not meant to tear the ground of our great mother’s delicate skin.
Their metals and turning wheels, their combat boots and weapons that scream and spit fire.
But did it belong in your hands?
Your father would say, 
“Each person is a thread, weaved within a tapestry that tells a story.”
The thing about stories is that sometimes, they may not always end well, or worse, they end too early. Some people stretch the thread as far as they can, too unsettled to be spread too thin, too soon.
Change is fundamental. Mo’at reminded you “there is no death, only change”
A moral structure that refuses to be severed. You believe that's whats what distincts na’vi from the sky people. Humans are quite flawed creatures. Humans love to dream and dance about stars and rain because their planet refuses to cry for them any longer. Humans dwell with memories that are haunted with light that only exists in the past, lingering behind desire to relive. Humans are afraid of grief, or loss. Of the empty void that lingers behind the shadows. Humans love to selfishly cling to the fantasy they don't live in.
You will never understand why they put themselves through such violent tendencies. To torture themselves. To provide reach towards an unseen daydream just to rip it out of their hands.
Humans remain. Na’vi evolve.
Na’vi find solace within the endless sky. Burning with color, blazing infinite. Na’vi dance on the precipice of the clouds. 
Grief came over like the waves grazing the tide, promising reassurance and return.
Violence was never a necessity. A lingering intrusion of a spark that refused to become a flame. 
But what lies beyond the sky? Was there truly a shadow behind the sun?
When the embers refused to settle.
You found yourself infatuated with open spaces. Abundance found within indecipherable notions.
Cracks in the mountains. Small tears in the tapestry where light leaked through the canopy of the trees.
Nothingness was never a threat.
Not when the promise of warmth remained.
☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆
Y/n met grief when she was only a child.
When she was 15, the RDA returned.
The day the sky turned red was the day the air smelled of sulfur and blood. 
Gray and red were never a pretty combination.
The demon ship’s wings stirred the trees and a storm of dust arise, 
Screaming, everyone running, the distant screeches of ikran and war cries.
The night your parents went out to gather some herbs, and never returned. 
When the pale light of the moon became a blazing, scorching, blanket of blankness that simmered into a forest engulfed in white flames. 
You found your mothers songcord on the ground the next morning.
Her body stained with red.
You stood next to Neteyam at your parent’s funeral.
You watched as Mo’ats hands guided the delicate floating Atokirina to rest upon your mothers chest as she murmured a prayer. 
People have this inherent conception that the hardest part of grief is change.
The loss of warmth in the safest of places, when the shadows loom rather than live. 
In reality, it's this unnamed feeling of a void.
Love is the amplification of a connection. Love distracts. It paralyzes you within its sanctuary of promises.
Grief feels like a shield with a hole blown through the middle. When the connection is shattered, and the sky is no longer protected without the scattered solace of the stars to veil the blank spaces.
Emptiness no longer infatuated you.
The sky without the stars is not a mystery anymore.
Neteyam held your hand. It didn't aid the hollowness within the cup of your palm. Guilt revenues in a realization, that even the great mother’s solace could not soothe this wound. This ache. This pain.
Neytiri’s soft sobs scorch the air with a soreness, the morning mist. Her fingertips, victims of bow strings and arrowhead edges gently brush the flowers placed around your mothers body. 
Neytiri was your mother’s sister. Not biologically. Preservations in our blood don’t always remain unsevered when a bond is born.
Your mother sobbed with her when hometree collapsed. Helped unbraid her hair for her night with Jake. Your mother had saved Neytiri’s life.
All those years ago when the RDA invaded Grace's school. When her body trembled at the sight of sylwanins blood that painted the floor and the walls, your mother walling as she desperately tried to drag Neytiri away.
To have such a bond. The heartbeat of one another emplaced in your bones, to sing a goodbye song with cruel unmeasured melodies. 
Jake held neytiri, gently rubbing circles onto her back, his own grievances had been paid due to earlier. 
Kiri’s tear stained cheeks didnt go unnoticed. She stood close to her father, Tuk’s tiny body squished between them as Kiri sobbed into Jake's shoulder . Kiri had always admired your mother. Chasing her shadow like wisp catching the breeze ever since she was a child. A woman of eywa. A healer. A hunter. Her heartbeat reserved for her home. Her people. Her daughter.
Lo’ak had placed his own tribute to the small spread laid out before the gently laid corpses.
A small carved arrowhead. 
Your father took over your mother’s job when she had other jobs to attend to, as being the one who trained a young group of warriors. Lo’ak included. He was patient with Lo’ak. Never discouraged him. A father liek mentorship had bloomed. So when his time came to join the great mother, Lo’ak contributed his own item of remembrance.
Lo’ak gave his arrowhead.
Tuk gave a small flower.
Kiri gave a small bundle of herbs the omaticaya believed was to aid the departing spirit on their journey.
Neytiri added a few carved beads from an anklet she wore. One your mother, Neytiri and Sylwanin had shared over the years, each of the three contributing beads or small trinkets to the piece.
Jake gave some beads as well. From a necklace your mother helped him make Neytiri when he struggled with the stringing of the oddly-shaped beads back when Jake was training for iknimiya, attempting to woo the young blue-skinned warrior he knew as neytiri.
All the omaticaya came to bear their gifts. Neteyam included, who gave you the gift of his warmth.
He cradled your hand in his, he raised it to his chest when the roots covered your parents bodies. 
You’ve loved Neteyam for many years now. Watching him grow from a boy to a man. 
You grew up next to the sullys. Your heights measured next to theirs as a child. Neteyam, Lo’ak, Kiri, even little tuk had built a circle around you. You were a part of their lives. They were  piece of yours. 
You found him in an irregular-shaped void in your heart that only he could fit in. Nights were filled of him. His voice. His eyes. His hands. The curve of his nose and the coves of his lips. 
His voice was made of tender summers. His eyes were liquid gold.
You saw him. You truly, truly saw him. Not the evascent shell of the perfect warrior or son made of stone. 
You saw him in the bleak day and in the night. When reality rivaled your thoughts of him, when the warmth of his touch seemed ephemeral, the invisible interstellar you swore was not a figment of your fantasies. You settled yourself from afar. Sullied yourself with stains of shame from the secrets you kept from him. The thousands of words you harbored, right next to the stars you swore you would steal for him.
This unrepeatable pattern became tiring, something you yearned to touch but your hands couldnt reach.
To tug on the silver string that dangled from this disguise he wore. This mask. This ruse of your heart.
He was to find the perfect mate. The perfect woman, A women to be the closest to an eywa incarnate. That wasn’t you. That could never be you.
Perfect with no edges. No uncalled for curves ad no outward coves.
So you settled once again with the itching of your palms and the aching of your heart.
He was not yours.
Distance became a familiarity because distance was safe. 
There was a time where the itching in your palms screamec for his. Now, his had felt hollow as it held yours now.
Grief was a funny thing.
You stood here, your skin feels more like a shell. Your mirror feels more like a window.
Staring at yourself with pity.
Such a weak thing she is.
Sobbing.
What once was warmth and abundant is now hollow and overcast by anguish.
You start to resonate with the corpses that once rested in your line of sight before the roots of the tree engulfed them.
Why is it that the sunlight denies you shelter?
Why must your whole become hollow? The ashes of what it once was line a new path. 
Is the sun falling? Have the stars collapsed? Will anyone catch them for you?
What is this? This pain? This agony? Why must it overcast your morals? Your rationality of peace? This homage harbors the resdiual of what little warmth is salvaged from this sunset of black. 
You feel the merciless fire in your veins. You want revenge. The cage of a Phoenix becomes an eternity of warmth. 
Even with neteyam at your side, the stars are falling. And the sunlight feels cold.
⋆。☁︎。⋆。 ☾ 。⋆⋆⋆。☁︎。⋆。 ☾ 。⋆⋆⋆。☁︎。⋆。 ☾ 。⋆⋆⋆。☁︎。⋆。 ☾ 。⋆⋆
Later that evening, the clan settled after Jake announced that his clan had to relocate to the Hallelujah mountains, where everyone would rebuild a stronghold and dwell with the loyal humans. To avoid any more bloodshed, Where the humans couldn't find you.
 You sat in the Sully’s Marui, Neytiri behind you as you sat infront of the fire.
She rebraided your hair. You had mo’at and kiri unbraided for the funeral. Neytiri’s soft humming soothes you a bit, but your hands haven’t ceased their small tremors of shaking.
She gently runs her hands through your locks, placing a few beads on each braid.
Th hut is silent, Neteyam sits in the corner, he hasn’t spoken since after the funeral.
Tuk perches on Jakes lap asleep, Kiri at your side, rubbing your back. Lo’ak sat on the other side of you, resting his head on your shoulder.
“My sweet”
Neytiri’s melodic whisper whisked through the heavy gray.
“We leave in a few days time, at first light for our new home,”
She paused, her thought lingering behind a wall of hesitation, she exchanges a look with Jake, who nods at her, gently taking tuk of his lap for a moment,
“Y/n, hon, with what's occurred..-”
He waved one hand around, flicking his wrist against the air to try and demonstrate some kind of invisible concept.
But you know he was referring to your parents deaths.
“We don’t think you should be alone.” Jake adds. Neteyam nods with his dad’s words, attempting to gain some kind of partaking in this conversation without speaking.
Neytiri rests her hand on your shoulder, making Lo’ak lift his head to peer at you. 
“What are you saying?”
It comes out as a breath, the unveiled remnants of the traumatic experience you had endured still fresh on your still-processing mind.
“Ma yawntu…We want you to stay with us when we settle in our new home. To stay in our home. We can take care of you.”
The warmth of the fire feels pale for a moment. I’ts vulnerability. Its shallow. Yet, Its deep, and dark, and you can’t see the bottom. Your’e left unguarded for a moment. 
“I’ll be fine on my own-“
You pause when you realize how hoarse your voice sounds. you clear your throat, your gaze meeting Jake’s. His eyes soften a you an you can tell its pity. Something you would have considered affection becomes an insult. A weakness.
“I’ll be okay. I’m not helpless. I can provide for myself.”
Jake sighs and shakes his head, his words calm.
“Y/n. I know you are strong. Hell, youre one of the strongest i know, kid. But This is not something we’re going to let you carry alone, I made-”
He pauses, taking a breath, his head tilting down a bit and his eyes squeezing shut before he raises his head to continue.
“I made a promise. To the people. To the clan. To keep everyone safe. And to your parents, we would look out for you if anything ever happened.”
The lump in your throat is dry as you swallow.
Neytiri kisses your head gently.
“Ma yawntu, we will look after you..we will guide you on this path.”
She gently guides you to look at her bow in the corner.
“My father. He gave me that bow as he laid dying.”
The air becomes thick, even the moonlight seems to freeze with its slow creeping up the wall. 
The only sound is the soft 3-beat melody of Tu’ks soft breathing as she sleeps, but her heavy eyes flutter open now and then as she nuzzles into jakes side.
Neytiri squeezes her hand on your shoulder to keep her voice from breaking, her chest tightening.
“He told me to protect the people.”
The pain in her voice breaks through the cracks in the walls that kept the shadows out, cages that kept the anger in.
“I owed your mother my life. I could not protect Zensira. 
I have let the demons take another from me.”
The red in her voice stained the shadows behind ehr words, the sharp syllables in ‘demons’ evident, Kiri closed her eyes and winced at her mothers words, still holding your hand.
She took a breath and gazed at you.
“But yawntu, i will not let them take you. I will protect you. You have always been one of my own at heart. The skyships will not take that from us.
The familiar sting you felt only a few hours ago returned to your eyes along with the ache in your chest.
Jake nodded.
“We can be stronger together, Y/n. Let us look after you.”
The wisp of shallow aches still burn behind your heart but you nod, silently.
Lo’ak smiles in an attempt to lighten the load.
“Just like old times, sis. We used to have sleepovers all the time, now we get to have them every day.”
Neytiri was about to scold Lo’ak for his bluntness until she heard you chuckle,
Tuk’s big eyes blinked open as her tired voice mumbled.
“Now you can play with me more..and braid my hair..”
She mumbes as she smiles to herself. Jake chuckles and ruffles her short braids.
Kiri squeezes your hand and Neteyam’s gaze hasn’t left you since the beginning of the conversation.
You took a walk that night, creeping around the hammocks of the sleeping sully family as you quietly ventured outside the small camp village.
You stand under a tree, the moonlight leaks through the canopy as you start to count the stars. You wondered how the sky and the heavens could still be standing when your whole world had collapsed around you just earlier that day.
When you were small your mother wouldtell you not to pull pn the loose thread of her tapestries she wove. Because the more you pull, the fasfter it will fall apart.
Thats how you felt. One loose string being mercilessly tugged and and all the colors were fading away, you chased them, you chased them along with the falling stars but no one caught them for you.
Your heart has been thieved. Your light has been stolen.
Sin and soul seem to have a war under your skin, and the soft lllabies of the creatures of your planet seem to have more of a shriek-like quality.
Why did the colors go away? 
Did they chase you to the place i cannot follow when you went away?
“Y/n.”
You jump slightly, the chill in the pale air becoming a prick of awarness as you reach for the knife on your hip, turning around quikcly.
Neteyam stands before you, his wooded-honeyed scent fills your nose, you blink as a breath of his name leaves your lips.
“Neteyam-
Oh Neteyam you scared me, you asshole.”
Usually he would have laughed. But not today, not with the shadow that looms.
He gently touches your arm.
“I’m sorry, truly-
What are you doing awake? Are you hurt? Are you in pain? Did something-
Did someone-”
You laugh at him. But its bitter and its thin. Its forced.
“For eywas sake why does everyone think i am the weak link suddenly-
I am fine. Stop looking at me like i am wounded-”
Neteyam cuts you off.
“Y/n, i would never think such a thing about you, ever. You know this. I want you safe, you can’t expect me not to be concerned when you wonder off in the middle of the night, syulang”
The nickname from whe you were children is a warm familiarity at the least.
You huff and lean against the tree bark.
“I just needed air.”
Its small and muttered.
A shaky breath left your lips.
“I’m trying to find ways to endure my own thoughts.”
Neteyams eyes soften as he steps forward, he gently takes a place y beside you, back against the tree as he stands next to you. Your hand brushes his, but your fingers refuse to interlace.
The two of you stared up at the stars for a moment.
“Teyam?
“Yes?”
“Do you think it’s ungrateful to feel as if you have nothing, even when others orrond you with love and promises?”  
“I’m not sure I follow…”
“Is it wrong to feel alone when your in the arms of others?”
As it falls into place for neteyam, he gazes at you as if you were a mystery in the moonlight.
He tries to see past your walls, to place himself in your shadow.
 He glances at you, then back up at the sky.
“No. It’s not ungrateful. I think we’re all born with some sort of circle around us.”
You pause for a moment, looking over at him.
“A circle?”
He nods.
“A circle. The people we love and care for? the people we would do anything for? The people who make our home, they all belong inside our circle.
My father, my mother, Lo’ak, Tuk, Kiri, they're all a part of my circle.”
He pauses for a moment, his tail swishing behind him.
“And…you are too. You’re apart of my circle, Y/n.”
You gaze at him and he withers under your eyes, averting his eyes and fidgeting with his necklace.
After a moment, he speaks again.
“I can’t imagine loosing people in that circle…things must become so…empty. As if the world seems too small all of the sudden.
So no, it’s not selfish to feel alone when that circle is gone.”
His words spark comfort. The hollowness within your palm seems less heavy.
“Thank you.”
You whisper, and he nods at you.
“You don’t have to be alone, y/n. My family…when they spoke to you tonight about staying with us when we travel to the mountains, it was not because there’s a need to replace what you once had. Y/n, we want you to embrace this new circle-“
“What if I’m not ready to find a new circle?”
The vehement tone you were bearning stunned neteyam for a moment.
“Your mother was right. The sky people will take, and they will kill, and they will hunt, until everything under the sky of pandora is either dead or theirs..”
Your eyes hardened for a moment and Neteyam was still as he took in your words.
You look up at the moon once more; taking a breath.
“I do not wish to fear them anymore, Neteyam.
I want them to be the ones who fear us.”
There was a new found devotion in your heart.
A bitter song of  fire and desolation.
Vengeance.
Each note a new mockery of blood and ash. Every chorus an unfamiliar revelry of hunger.
That night, under the fallen stars and the cold moonlight, the inextinguishable plotted purpose was born within you.
Neteyam sighed; his gaze fitting back to the moon.
“And so you will..”
No. 
Don’t. 
I don’t want to loose you in the fire.
But he didn’t dare speak it aloud.
After a moment, he spoke again.
“I have something for you.”
He felt his heart flutter when your eyes met his.
He reached into the pocket of his loincloth.
“It was a gift I planned on giving during the ceremony.”
You felt twitch of anguish as you recalled the memory.
“You already contributed your gift..you gave that armband my father taught you how to weave.”
He gave you a tender look. The kind whispered in the solace of summer and soft secrets.
“It is for you. Not for your loss.”
His words unclouded a new warmth in your chest.
For a moment, your anger ceased to simmer.
“I made this, for you a long while ago..but I never found the right time to give it to you.
Then..the incident happened and I knew it wasn’t a good time..I was planning on giving it to you on this day..but the plans changed.”
He opened his palm to reveal a small carved wooden spiral, polished and smooth. 3 strings with little charming dangling.
The first charm was 2 purple colored crystal, the second was a wooden bead that wore a Maude color, with a tree carved on it, the last was a stack of small purple beads with marbled colors.
He placed it gently in the palm of your hand, and you cradled it with such delicacy.
“Oh it’s beautiful…”
Your breath truly caught itself in his trap.
“When we were young your mother made you that necklace out of those crystals and small jeweled beads, the one she found in the river?..you were so happy to wear something so colorful..I remember the purple ones were your favorite. You always placed them so that they were in the middle. I’d thought I’d add them as a small bonus.”
He smiled at the memory.
You hugged him, your cheek pressed against his chest, he was stunned for a moment but hugged you back, you looked up at him and your breath caught for a moment, your faces mere inches apart.
You both Depart slightly and avert your eyes.
“Thank you. It’s lovely, Neteyam.”
You said softly, he nodded and smiled at you.
“The spiral suits you. Even now with this great loss you bear. It’s a connection. Even to those who are no longer with us.”
You smiled at him back, and the two of you started to walk back to the village.
How could you not see it? The spiral. A sign of support? Of friendship? Of trust?
No my dear Y/n.
It was how he felt like his soul was steadily orbiting around you. Thoughts of you never ended.
His circle.
His spiral.
You were the center.
☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 
Years later….(y/n is now 18.)
(her code name is “X” neteyam’s name through comms is canonically ‘pathfinder’)
Jake yipped to Neytiri as she raised her bow and looked over her shoulder.
Her face is adorned with war paint, much like yours. She had painted you for the day. Red, purple, blue, the colors of your ikran worn proudly like a hyde of victory.
“Remember the plan.”
Jake says through his throat comms, his volume fighting the wind. You held your two fingers to the small mic on your neck so you could hear through your earpiece.
“Neytiri and I will strike from above, X, you're my Archer. I want you to hit em’ quick and move out fast. Eagle Eye, pathfinder, you two are spotters. Do not engage in close range, or air combat, understood?”
You heard lo’ak groan through his comm.
“Bro, why does Y/n get to have all the fun!?”
You felt a tinge of pride. Knowing you were Jake’s right hand out in the field. Higher ranked than either of his son’s. A skilled Archer. 
“Because I'm older and I have more fun.”
You quipped back, unable to hide the smile in your voice.
“Ya know what'd be fun? If you were to crash straight into one of those mountains and fall in your cocky as-”
“Both of you! No arguing on the comms!”
You refocused as the smell of ash and metal was fast approaching. YOu and the war party arrive on the scene right on time
You flew up above the train tracks and watched as the vehicle crashed into a collision of smoke and ash on the derailed tracks.  The air scorched to sting your flesh with an uncomfortable heat.
Neytiri let out a ululating sound to signal to you as she flew down to help Jake. Behind you were 3 smaller aircrafts. 
You grabbed your bow from the side saddle, mentally commanding your ikran to dive.
Everyone who witnessed Y/n fight swore the wind under her ikran’s wings were grazed with fire.
She was made of red-ribboned rainstorms in a scarlet blaze of uncharted wind and wildflowers.
For a moment it’s all too real. The encore of your arrows, the satisfying stretch of your bow string, Like the last note before the chorus. You dive down, sliding down the neck of your Ikran ever so slightly as the wind stings your cheeks, the sunlight strong. You draw back, a loud call escaping your throat, and the arrow flies.
Its in a blink of an eye the cockpit window is shattered, the pilot now sporting an arrow of yours through his neck as the metal gray bird ceases it’s flight and collapses in a cloud of smoke and sulfur.
You’d usually be celebrating if two bastards weren't behind you.
You grasp two arrows this time, the long wooden shaft in your clutch as you line them up properly for the next shot. 
The pilots pathetically attempt to surf with the wind beneath you, scattering your duo targets into far off spots.
Thats the thing about humans. They tiptoed on the wind as if it was uneven ground. Na’vi warriors like you danced upon airstorms and harsh rains. A swirling spiral of helix grazes your skin as you feel one of their shots fly past you the heat just missing your ikran,
You soothe him before regaining your position, you mentally make a new command to your ikran.
‘Drop’
In a moment, the settled feeling of security that once shaved your bones seems to wither away.
Your ikran free falls, rolling against the wind that whips and wails. Your chest heaves as you ready your shot, the reverberation from your bowstring sings to your fingers as the two arrows fly, hitting both pilots as your irkan regains a flying position instead of a falling one, all adrift in a fleeting shot.
The aircrafts fall together, crashing against the ground.
The ground team jake had arranged comes into view frm the side forest clearing, all watching in awe as if you were the embodiment of phoenix.
They raised their bows and let out warcalls, you pridefully returned, raising your bow above your head and releasing a war call of your own.
Neteyam watched from afar. His ikran synced with Lo’aks as they circled the scene below, na’vi led by Norm gathering all the weapons they could.
But he couldnt let himself focus on the world below when all he could see was the woman made of exquisite inferno and grace was scorching the sky with her blaze.
Neteyam felt the wind brisk through his braids as he looked up, squinting against the sunlight in hopes to catch another glimpse of you.
The light of day made you seem grazed with gold that brushed the cobalt hues.
He watched as you shot down the aircrafts, he watched you shoot two arrows.
To Neteyam, you were made of fire.
Remnants of moonlight and high-tided sea storms. A hellish radiance and a scarlet soul.
Neteyam remembered the night he saw the flame embed itself in your soul. The night he gifted you that carving that was now a charm that rested tied to the long expanse of your bow.
He hated it. How inconsolable he feared you were, how he feared this new alit flame would burn his touch away from you. Useless was an understatement, of how he felt that night, even the stars above refused to guide him down teh right path.
He knew you were angry.
He was angry too.
He wanted to fight just like you did. His hatred for these sky demons simmered beneath his skin. He was a warrior. He wanted to fight next to you and his father. He was a protector of the people.
He had seen what they had taken from his home, from his parents, his family, from you.
At first, he thought it was jealousy.
The way Jake encrusted you to be his main archer. To shoot down sky ships.
Neteyam? He wasn’t anywhere near the fighting. Not anywhere near you.
He knew his father thought him and Lo’ak were “too important” to be fighting.
Jake was trying to salvage the sons made of stone before the heat of war can melt the rock.
Were you better than him?
Stronger than him?
Why did his father trust you more than he trusted his eldest?
As he watches you now, the archer who had her arrowhead aimed at his heart from day 1.
He knows its love. It must be.
It keeps him awake at night. The devoured feeling that gnaws at his heart. You were the center of his sky in all your celestial glory and he wished he would have gifted you the entire universe but instead he gave you that carved spiral.
He loved you because where other struggled to see in the dark you danced with dusk. You were a paradox. Detached, but focused. Because you somehow made the most dissolute and reckless seem graceful. You were real. Imperfect. Unconfined hunger bordered by each beautiful bruise blemish and scar that covered your skin. 
You haunted him.
“Bro!”
And funny enough, it seems eywa created little brothers for a different kind of haunting.
Neteyams eyes flickered to where Lo’ak circled around him on his ikran.
The cold colors tattered across the ikrans purple and blue skin, trapping the yellow large speckles of shapes of the banshee’s skin.
Lo’ak’s echoes dwindle in the gust of wind, the war paint he wore proudly on either side of his face, Neteyam had watched Y/n paint Lo’ak after his begging back at high camp.
Something about Lo’aks smile in situations like these always found ways to disquiet Neteyam.
His eyebrows hover above his eyes as his fangs bare through his smile.
“Bro! We have got to get down there!”
Neteyam shakes his head, a warning look traces his features.
“No way! Dad will skin us!”
Lo’ak shakes his head, the wind uplifting his braids as he dives.
“C’mon! Don’t be a wuss!”
The flushed first notes of an uncertain heartbeat ablaze neteyam’s mind as he dives as well.
“Shit! Lo’ak! Get back you dumbass!”
Lo’ak dived blow into the musk of what might as well be no man’s land. The air wailed and whipped around him as he hopped off his Ikran. Yanking his kuru from his banshees and running towards the chaos in question.
He looked over his shoulder to see Neteyam following suit. He laughed, waving his hand through the dust and smoke.
“C‘mom bro!”
“Lo’ak!”
“Lo’ak come back!”
Lo’ak faltered momentarily when he saw Norm directing some navi’s into a brigade to gather all the weapons from the train’s supply cart. Swiftly swerving to stay out of the dream walkers sight, he joined the forming crowd where around where Tarsem had just opened a new cart of guns.
“Here boy- take this weapon! Go!”
Lo’ak let put a silly war cry and puffed up his chest,
Neteyam came to a halt.
“Lo’ak, you don’t even know how to use it.”
Lo’ak waved the gun around like it was weightless, handling it like one of Tuk’s toys.
“Nah bro. Dad taught me!”
Neteyam rolled his eyes, done with Lo’aks bullshit.
“I’m sure he did-
Let’s go-“
He grabbed lo’aks bicep but Lo’ak shrugged him off.
“Or maybe I’ll just be like y/n and shoot down some sky demons!”
Above the clouds, you circled the ensuing hustle below. Watching the brigades, monitoring the ground team. Your bow at the ready in its position on your saddle sheath.
And then you saw them.
“Son of a bitch!”
You hissed quietly, swiftily diving down to where the duo of your headache embodied currently argued about something stupid.
Lo’ak smiled as he saw you, but it faded as he watched the shadow of your Ikran (which was larger than the average Ikran, granted)
Loom over the both as you hopped down, glaring at them.
“What are you two shitheads doing here!?”
The feathers on your raid top gently shook in the breeze, a few of your beads clanking together in your braids as you made your descend.
Neteyam seemed to straighten, but his breath seemed to form a blockade for his own voice.
Maybe it was the way the brightly covered beads and feathers of your top accentuated your skin. Or maybe it was the way the fathers in your braids matched your waist beads Kiri had made you.
Maybe it was the way your loincloth seemed a bit more perfect than usual as it hugged your hips.
Maybe it was the way the red, blue, and purple war paint on your face outlined your eyes like wings and shed down your cheeks like tears, sorrowed in starlight for you had just been warrior of the wind.
I guess we’ll never know.
Lo’ak spoke for him.
“We wanted to help! C’mon, we have the ground team to be spotters! They don’t need us! I’ve been practicing the trick you taught me with the bow, just let us fly with you- we promise we’ll-“
You shot Lo’ak down before the words flooded further, the scarlet hues ablazed and begged for nothing but obedience in your voice.
“Kehe! You will do nothing-! Go back to your post. Both of you, now!”
You swatted Lo’ak with your bow, hissing at him, Neteyam tried to drag Lo’ak away.
“Bro let’s go!-“
The sound of heavy mechanical whirring instilled the heightening of your awareness in the moment, your ears pining back as you saw the larger ship approach.
“Gun ship inbound!”
Jake shouted, you saw neytiri hiss and take off on her Ikran.
“Shit! Run!” You cursed, shoving Lo’ak and Neteyam in the opposite direction and making a break away from the approaching enemy.
As it would seem time was not in your favor, your Ikran had already been spooked away by the blast, Neteyam grabbed your hand before you could run, 
“Come with us, now!
Go-!”
He shoved Lo’ak ahead of him as they ran, Neteyam’s hand clutching yours as you kept pace with the two.
The 3 of you climbed over the derailed debris, Neteyam and you scaling the bright yellow RDA logo train doors,
“Bro come on!” Lo’ak called.
A flash of light invaded your vision, the scorching heat of the blast incircled you.
You feel Neteyam attempt to reach for you, but instead all you feel is a tug on your wrist as your senses start to numb. 
Your airborn for a moment, then your body collides with the uneven ground, the rocky surface below.
You groan, your vision blurring. The embers and ash clash against your skin in the harsh sting of the hot air. 
You winced in pain as the adrenaline started it’s course of abandonment. The aching sensation swallows your body. 
Scarlet etched its way in a jagged scratch on your side. The world seemed to darkn as the scarlet hues slowly faded to black. The sky’s golden and blue game of chance changes its rules as your eyelids become heavy.
Neteyam’s eyes shoot open as his vision readjusts itself clearly.
Lo’ak is above him, shaking him awake. Panic in the half-notes of his jagged breaths.
“Bro!? Bro! C’mon, get up we gotta go!”
Neteyam stands to his feet, groaning, but quickly regaining his senses.
He looked down at his hand to see where something small and beaded made its home in his clutch.
A bracelet?
Your bracelet.
It hit Neteyam like a tidal wave.
“Shit! Y/n-“
Neteyam tried to run past when his body collided with a taller one, Jake stood looming over his son’s, placing one hand on each of their shoulders “Hey! Easy, easy, where’s Y/n?! Are you hurt?!”
Neteyam tried to speak but all it was met with is stuttered breaths and a poor panicked exclamation.
“That way! I meant to grab her arm and I grabbed this instead-
The blast-“
Jake didn’t hesitate as he started running in the direction you were in, Lo’ak seemingly still in shock and Neteyam following his father without missing a beat,
“Stay behind boy! Get your brother out of here!”
“But sir-“
“That’s a direct order!”
Norm, quickly dragged Neteyam and lo’ak away to the sidelines of the forest to make their quick escape.
The sound of a screech flooded your ears, the footseps barely audible over the smoke and wind.
“Y/n! Oh child, Eywa no.” 
You reached for your knife with the last ounce of motor control you could muster, before a hand gently lifted you on your back, the sun’s blinding silver line halo of heat scorched your eyes, you hissed and winced in pain.
The hands were familiar, it calmed you rather quickly.
You knew it was neytiri when the blurry shape of gray purple and green, faintly recognizable as her bone collared-top.
You groaned, the raw rushes of pain encased your vision.
“I’m sorry-”
You mumbled.
“Shh. No apologies, my dear girl. Come, we must go. Quickly.”
The last thing you remember is the gently shrill of her Ikran and her hand around your waist was she settled you in front of her on her ikran. The Scarlet hue no painted the wind.
☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 
When you awake, its to the sound of herbs grinding soflty in a boil. The reverberations of the grinding tool against the small wooden bowl make your ears twitch.
Your vision settles. Mo’at sits infornt of the small fire in the tsahiks tent, Tuktirey by her side.
Her big eyes blinking at her grandmother’s handy-work, her much smaller tail swishing to the beat of each sound.
You sat up slowly, with a small wince. But the pain was significantly better.
Tuk gasps
“Y/n! You're alive!”
She wraps her arms around your waist, nuzzling her little head into your chest. You smile at the smaller girls, roughly a few of her braids, kissing the top of her head.
“of course I’m alive, yawntu! It would take a million Sky People to take me out.”
You teasingly mocked the position of an archer, holding a pretend bow and arrow made out of thin air as Tuk laughed.
Mo’at gently cleared her throat, making her way to you as she placed a hand on your shoulder.
“ Child, your wounds were deep, but they shall heal quickly with the salve. Kiri shall be back with more herbs soon. But please rest, simply until the bandages are removed.”
You nodded greatfully, squeezing her hand in a gesture of thank you.
She was the closest thing you would have to a grandmother, even before your parents began their journey with Eywa. You never got to meet your actual grandparents. They died in the attack on hometree. The only memory you had of them was through the clans' stories.
You wore a choker that was strung with river pearls and brown leather, a small navy-blue colored stone in the middle. A treasured piece your grandmother once wore.
Tuk snuggled up to you in the hammock, and you gently rubbed her back.
A soft rustling made your ears perk up when Kiri slipped through the tent flap with a basket of herbs.
“Tsmuke, (sister)
You are awake.”
Her expression softened, as if tensed up since the moment you returned unconscious. It probably was.
She handed the herbs to Mo’at and kneeled at your side, gently brushing a few of your braids away from your face.
“How are you feeling? Better? I used yalna bark when grandmother wasn’t looking. Was it Lo’ak again? It’s always Neteyam getting in trouble and you getting hurt when that sxkwang gets bright ideas-“
You gently stopped her mid rant. Holding her hand gently to your chest.
“I am fine, Kiri. A few scratches and bruises has never done much harm.”
She chuckled softly, standing back to her feet to assist Mo’at with the rest of the preparations for other wounded warriors.
As the hours passed, and the sun started to set, Kiri had to drag Tuktirey off to bed and Mo’at left the tent for the night. Leaving you alone to find sleep.
Mo’at had insisted you sleep in the Tsahik’ s tent tonight. Get some extra rest.
You didn’t argue. It was better than sharing a hammock with Lo’ak. The boy snored more than what you were almost certain was normal.
It was an understatement to say you nearly killed someone when you heard the tent flap rustle. You jumped, instinctly reaching for your knife.
It was well after hours.
Everyone should be asleep.
Who was it? Were you followed when you left the train?
Was it a sky demon? An animal?
You slowly felt your heart steady once again when you saw a small pale figure enter your tent, the small glimmer of his mask dances in the firelight. Lo’ak is behind him, looking less hyper than usual. Instead, a subtle tinge of gray flickered past his eyes, but it quickly gilded itself to green and gold once it settled on your form. He released a breath of relief and spider smiled.
“See? I told you she was okay.”
It took you a moment to realize that Lo’ak was worried about you.
You gave him a small smile opening your one arm that wasn’t aching, and he slipped himself under it, sitting next to you in the hammock, resting his head on your shoulder.
Lo’ak was your best friend. But really, he was so much more than that.
He was your family. Your ride-or-die.
Your right hand.
It made you feel a bit guilty, that Lo’ak seemed to prefer you over Neteyam sometimes.
Lo’ak wanted you to be his teacher when it came to his archery training and sparring. Lo’ak wanted it to be you who he went on hunts with.
Yet again, he also only lets you braid his hair because apparently neytiri pulls too hard and Neteyam doesn’t know how to tie them off properly.
Spider was a bit of a different case.
As you grew older, you realized how much you envied your motehrs sense of lightness.
Her entire being seemed to be made of golden hour gardens and softly whispered summers.
She was strong. The strongest woman you knew.
But she was kind.
She wasn’t like Neytiri in the sense that she resented all humans.
Your mother always felt a sense of protectiveness over Spider. A small, pale boy who used his heart instead of brain, chasing shimmyflys and tripping over vines that were larger than him. She welcomed him into her circle. She shielded him from the storms of strange staring and pesky fears.
Your mother always cared for Spider. Helped him re-twist his locs and make him new loincloths and hair beads. Some of your earliest memories were you and spider playing with the small carved toys in your family’s tent, or giggling after dark under the blankets after your father told you both to go to sleep.
She argued when spider had to go back to his foster family, and ended up making bargains with him to stay overnight every few days.
You’re almost positive it’s the only motherly love spider has ever known.
He cried when your mother died. 
You think he might have cried more than you did.
Sobbed for days with you, and it brought you closer together.
You smiled as Lo’ak fidgeted with one of the bracelets on your wrist.
When you were about 8, Lo’ak was 7, spider was 9, your mother carved you these special beads for the three of you to use.
You three decided to make bracelets and your father helped you string them together, all collecting charms and gifting them to one another to add.
The two biggest stones were carved river crystal the two boys collected, Lo’ak rolled the beads between his two extra fingers, sporting a bracelet of his own you and spider made him.
“So, I heard you got your ass kicked.”
Spider snickered. Sitting down in front of you.
You whacked him with your tail.
“Fuck off. Those sky demons ate my arrows.”
Spider groaned, 
“I’m so pissed. I heard you fell down in a explosion and ate shit-
And now one took a picture for me!” 
Lo’ak threw and arm around your shoulder and wiggled his eyebrows.
“Oh yeah. And her Romeo was panicking because he didn’t save her in time”
You flushed, shoving him away.
Spider laughed, standing up.
“I can only imagine-“
He cleared his throat, before making his voice go an obnoxious pitch higher, twirling his locs around his fingers and batting his eyes, mimcmking what was supposed to be you.
“Oh Neteyam! My big strong warrior man! Come save me!”
You hissed in annoyance, but couldn’t help but bite back laughter at the back of your throat.
Lo’ak stood to his feet, puffing up his chest and taking his braid out of the way he tied them back, letting them hang, deepening his voice and stomping towards spider, dramatically holding him in his arms as spider collapsed with a loud rehearsed sigh.
Lo’aks Neteyam imitation sent you over the edge, you were now cackling and had rolled out of your hammock.
“I’ll save you from the demon ships with my bow and arrow!”
Lo’ak, you, and spider all break into a fit of laughter, rolling around on the ground. Lo’ak steadying himself by burying his face in your shoulder as spider banged his fist on the ground, finally, as the laughter died down, the three of you stared at the top of the tent, out of breath, the only sound being the gentle wheezing endnotes of your breaths.
“Glad you kicked some ass today. Those fucking RDA pilots didn’t stand a chance against you and that bow of yours.”
Spider whispered. Nudging your shoulder gently.
You smiled at him, Lo’ak squished in between you.
The three of you said your goodnight s, and you watched the two missing parts of your circle leave the tent before they could get caught after lights out.
You nestled back into the hammock, staring up at the ceiling.
The aching in your arms hasn’t completely vanished it’s fortification of pain in your shoulder.
You gently rub circles around the small carved spiral you untied from the long shaft of your bow when spider dragged it inside.
You played with the small crystals and the beads, gently humming to yourself.
Your fingers traced along the shape, Neteyams eyes invaded your mind.
It was fascinating, really. How a warrior such as yourself had won today's battle and yet the one thing you truly yearned for was still not within your grasp.
It hurts sometimes, to think about how beautiful he was.
The way his irises encompassed golden hour in all its starlight sessions.
The air was thicker in the mountains like this, up here in high camp. Perhaps that’s why the sweltering residual warmth that rippled across your skin like lillies to a pond every time you thought of him
You wondered if he tasted like the sun. Sweet, possibly bitter. Bleak and addicting, such a delicacy deserved to never touch your lips.
Alas the stars did not align for you.
Not tonight.
You trace the spiral one last time before letting your eyes flutter closed.
Your tail flicked as you heard yet another rustling.
The sound of footsteps, slightly heavier than last time.
You groaned.
“Spider did you forget something again?..”
When no answer was heard you grumbled. Standing to your feet and untying the tent flap, only to be met with two two golden hour orbs that had just plagued your mind.
“”Neteyam?..”
authors note:
I’m finally done! I haven’t slept in two days but I’m finished. I can’t decided whether I like the way this turned out but I LOVE some of the smaller little details. Y/n is such a badass and she’s in her reputation eraaaa. We love to see it 😩👏 this first one was a lil angsty but I PROMISE y’all, this series is NOT angst. I’ve got a ton of stuff planned. I’m thinking maybe a little bit of jealous Neteyam? Some humor? Spider and Lo’ak being the captain of the ship? Mo’at being a sassy Granmda? Maybe some sister bonding with Kiri? AHHH IM SO HYPED. I, about to pass out and I can’t feel my fingers but that’s it for now! Stay tuned for part 2 🏹
-Sol
Jan 2034
“Virago” series, chp. 1.
Taglist:
@plooto
265 notes · View notes
humanpurposes · 2 months
Text
We're Born At Night
Chapter 3
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Lady Rhaelle Targaryen of Runestone travels to King's Landing to plead for her sister's life, though the King she must bow to is a kinslayer three times over, and the very man who slaughtered her father
Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist
Aemond Targaryen x Rhaelle Targaryen (OFC)
Warnings: 18+, mentions of death and war, Targaryens trying to flirt
Words: 6.8k
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Days pass and every day Rhaelle brings herself to her knees before the throne, pleading for her sister’s restoration as Lady of Runestone, as their mother’s heir, for her freedom and for her life.
Aemond denies her. Again and again he denies her, and each day she appears before him, she thinks she sees his expression darkening. It is obvious that he is a proud man, a second son who was never meant to be King, repeatedly defied by the second daughter of a traitor. Lord Corlys tells her to give him time to persuade the King and the council. He also warns how quickly Aemond’s patience can turn into anger with deadly consequences. What else can she do but try, even if it means tempting his rage?
They have been here a fortnight and not much has improved. She and Daena often take tea with the other ladies and attend dinners in the throne room but Aemond’s court is an echo of what she remembers from the reign of his father. The dinners are polite, the music is sombre, the dances are slow. There is no joy in the castle, just talk of the fast approaching winter.
Back home, the running of the castle— her castle thanks to Aemond’s generosity— would keep her busy. Between her duties she would be able to steal a few hours for herself, read her favourite texts in the library or mount her horse and roam the surrounding lands as she pleased, bringing back pheasants because Alyssa was the sister to inherit their mother’s talent for hunting larger quarry.
One night she dreams she is riding her horse, a beautiful grey stallion she has back at Runestone named Semyon for the legendary knight with sapphires for eyes. It feels so real with the wind whispering in her ears, the scent of the fields and the forest, the slightly earthy taste on her tongue. She rides along the paths she has followed since she was a girl, the same her mother would have followed, and passes the valley where her body was found, tightening her grip on the reins and the saddle, as she always does. The sky seems to darken. A figure blocks out the sun and lets out a whistling, rippling screech, the cry of a beast she has only heard a handful of times, and never will again.
She is woken by a sound that still rings in her ears as her eyes open, sweat clinging uncomfortably to her skin. It sounds again, a faint clash of metal. It is a wonder it was even enough to rouse her. 
The stone floor stings against the bare skin of her soles, the cold creeping into her flesh and sinking itself into her very bones. Yet she walks, first to the chaise by the wardrobe to wrap a thick robe around herself, and then to the window. The days are darker now. The sun takes longer to rise and beyond her window the sky is a glum shade of grey.
Down in the courtyard, before the steps of the holdfast, a flash of silver catches her eye.
Aemond is a fearsome fighter, tall, lean and lithe, moving quickly and fluidly. He bests his opponent, Ser Willis, with a few brutal blows, holding the edge of his blade to the man’s throat. Before long he is eager to go again.
She can imagine him on a battlefield, his face silently furious, carving through the men and boys who dared to place themselves in his way. She can imagine him in the courtyard of a ruined castle, blood on his face and hands. They say he slaughtered each member of House Strong himself, and then he bedded one of their bastards and made her a Lady. Daena thinks he would not have given a servant such an honour unless she had borne him a bastard, but Princes have sired bastards before and had mistresses from far more noble backgrounds. What was so remarkable about Alys Rivers?
With a particularly harsh swing of his sword, Aemond brings his blade down upon Ser Willis’, but the Lord Commander recovers quickly and begins an attack. Aemond is clearly taken by surprise and quickly forced to his knees with a frustrated grunt, one which she hears easily through the quiet of the early morning. He is facing the window though she doubts he will notice her. He glares up at Ser Willis, lips parted as he pants for breath. He looks enraged, vengeful even, and she almost expects him to leap up and attack with renewed force. Instead he bows his head and accepts Ser Wills’ hand to help him to his feet.
As a slight draft brushes over the exposed parts of her skin, she imagines the sound of his breathing and finds herself struck by a strange feeling of emptiness.
Later that morning she dons a blood red gown and makes a journey through the castle which is all too familiar to her now, to the waiting chamber by the throne room. Lord Corlys is there, speaking to a man who she has only seen across a room, more often than not, glaring at her along with the Hightower brothers. He has wrinkles around his eyes and mouth, but his face appears surprisingly younger than the flecks of grey in his hair and his beard would suggest. He has sharp eyes that stay fixed on her as she approaches.
Concern briefly flashes over Lord Corlys’ face as he steps forward to greet her, but the other man already has his hand extended to her. “Unwin Peake,” he says. “We have not been formally introduced, Lady Rhaelle.”
She doesn’t like the sound of his voice or how he says her name, but smiles and takes his hand.
Unwin Peake fancies himself a war hero. Rhaelle is not so easily misled. She knows he led a thousand men under the banner of King Aegon, only for half of them to desert him when he proved a less than capable leader. She knows he tried and failed to seize control of the Hightower host after Tumbleton, that he quarrelled with his rivals to the point of bloodshed, and yet somehow earned himself a place on the Small Council before Aegon’s death. 
Lord Corlys catches her eye and seems to be uneasy. She gives him a small nod as Lord Unwin takes her by the arm and leads them into the throne room. It is a show of courtesy, one she must accept with grace.
Aemond is already upon the throne, legs crossed, leaning into one side, without fear of cutting himself on the blades. Noblemen and smallfolk alike come before him and he responds to every concern with such eloquence and certainty, as though the entire ordeal has been rehearsed. 
And he always looks ahead. Rhaelle stands on his seeing side, below the throne, but he shows no indication that he has seen her or that he intends to acknowledge her.
She knows what she will say and she knows what his reply will be, and in that certainty there is fear. She can hardly keep her hands still, pressing her fingernails into her skin to stop herself from trembling. The pain isn’t much of a distraction. All she feels is cold, even through the thick material of her gown. She pictures her sister in a cell, in the darkness, perhaps even in chains. 
Another chill slips down her spine as she hears a footstep sound softly behind her.
“Do you know what Lord Tyland has taken to calling you?” Unwin Peake’s voice hisses close to her ear.
Rhaelle clenches her jaw. She expects he will tell her whether she wants him to or not.
“He calls you the reluctant Lady of Runestone.”
She presses her nails deeper into her skin.
She finally spurns herself forwards. Aemond’s eye finds her as she enters his line of vision, fixed on her as she moves across the room and kneels before the throne.
She bows her head and stares down at the flagstones, at the crevices between the stones, the flecks of dirt and dust settled within. Any nervous or curious chatter has ceased. The hall is quiet enough that she is sure the onlookers will be able to hear her heart pounding in her chest. If she holds her breath she can see it pulsing through the neckline of her dress.
Meeting his eye is a strange sort of thrill. He watches her sternly, his lips pressed together in a thin line, his fingers tapping against the arm of the throne.
She opens her mouth to speak but his voice pierces the air, clear and demanding. “Dearest cousin,” he says, then exhales sharply through his nose. “You come before me yet again.”
“Your Grace–”
“No, I already know what you’re going to ask of me, and my answer will be the same. Alyssa Targaryen may be my blood but she defied her true King.”
“I know my sister. She is wise and just, but dragged into a war she should never have been a part of.”
“She is a traitor.”
“And yet she has not been put on trial. You seem content to hold her. Why? Allow her a chance to prove her innocence before she is condemned, or else let her return to her home.”
“You have come before me every day since your arrival, to plead on behalf of a traitor. I do wonder what that might make you, Lady Rhaelle?”
“It makes me loyal to my family. I love my sister, and her suffering is my suffering.”
“As admirable as that declaration may be, I have made my decision. I will not hear any more from you on this matter.”
“If you had a chance to save your own sibling from a terrible fate would you not take it? Could you ever forgive yourself if you stopped trying?”
Something about his face changes. There is an absence of amusement, something quiet but cold in the way his eyes and his lips soften.
When his eye falls away from her she thinks she might have made a grave mistake.
He holds the arms of the throne as he stands, grips the iron with his fingertips when it is barely in his reach. Without another word he leaves the hall through the side chamber, keeping his head and his crown held high, while his fists are clenched at his sides.
She shares a look with Lord Corlys, himself stunned at the irregularity. Aemond never leaves the throne room until he has heard each grievance, and never shies from his duties.
The King is an elusive figure at the best of times. He does not seem to enjoy the more frivolous aspects of rulership. If he is seen at dinners in the throne room, he confines himself to the high table along with Lord Corlys. Other than his early morning spars with Ser Willis in the courtyard or his occasional rides out into the Kingswood, he appears to spend most of his time in his chambers. She imagines him pouring over ledgers and papers by candlelight, his face hardened in concentration.
That night, when his seat at the high table remains empty, Rhaelle cannot help but fear she has been the cause of this absence. Did her words truly anger him so deeply? Is her persistence so vexing to him? 
She finds herself unable to settle when she retires to her chambers that night. She is starving and yet she has no appetite. Her body feels heavy and her head aches behind her eyes, yet her mind is spinning and will not allow her to find sleep.
He said he would not hear from her on the matter. She pushed too far, allowed her desperation to cloud her judgement and attempted to argue on sympathy rather than reason. Now she feels it all slipping away, any sense of control she had when she arrived in King’s Landing, any hope she had of reuniting their family after so many years. Why would she ever think that Aemond should show mercy to a prisoner on a plea of sisterly love?
He must have loved his sister, gentle Helaena, who wore a gown of pale blue and gold to the wedding of Alyssa and Jacaerys. She smiled rarely, never in the presence of her husband, she could barely even stand to take his arm as they entered the Sept and the throne room. Her eyes often found Aemond though, glassy with tears when he winced at the pain of his wound, as if she shared in it. Did he ever imagine, when he left for Harrenhal, that he would never see her again?
The next morning she wakes with the sunrise, somehow the shortened sleep has left her more awake than she usually is. She is already halfway dressed in her riding leathers, fashioned from a set of her mother’s, when Morra enters her bedchamber, and Rhaelle immediately sends her to the stables to ensure a horse is readied for her.
Finally, once she has pulled on her boots and tied her hair into a single braid, she heads down herself, but not before stopping by the window. The sun has yet to appear over the walls of the castle and the courtyard is empty.
She huffs to herself, at the restless feeling that’s been gnawing at her insides for weeks. 
The entrance yard at the front of the Red Keep is bustling with servants carrying baskets and barrels, men unloading carts and carrying their contents towards the kitchens. Morra is waiting for her by the steps, fiddling with the edges of her sleeves.
Rhaelle pulls out her gloves and slips them onto her hands. “Did you find me a horse?” she says.
“Yes, my Lady, but there is another matter–”
She can already see what the other matter is. Aemond is standing by the gates, dressed in black riding attire, arguing with one of the stable hands. He has a beautiful grey horse on a lead, with a coat that shimmers like silk in the early sunlight. The stable hand stands with a slightly smaller horse, brown with a white spot on its nose. These are both muscular creatures meant for speed.
Rhaelle approaches them with Morra close behind. “Your Grace,” she says firmly but calmly. The two men immediately cease and face her, the stable hand with his head bowed, Aemond with a slight frown on his face and the beginnings of a sneer on his lips. “What a pleasant surprise.”
“Likewise, my Lady,” Aemond says, entirely unconvincingly.
There is noise all around them, voices, footsteps, men and women at work, and yet the silence between Aemond and Rhaelle is palpable. 
“I was intending to ride through the Kingswood this morning,” Rhaelle says, holding her hands firmly in front of her, unmoving, unafraid. “Perhaps you were intending to do the same?”
“I was.”
“What a happy coincidence,” she says, willfully ignoring the shortness of his tone. “We could ride together, then? I do not know the woods you see, I think I would benefit from having a companion.”
Aemond purses his lips, and glances between her and the horse being held by the stable hand. “It would be my pleasure, dear cousin.” 
She smiles graciously. 
Aemond hums to himself, then takes hold of the grey horse’s saddle and hoists himself into it with ease. As it happens, the brown horse is a similar size to Symeon. She finds her footing in the stirrup and hauls herself up, settling comfortably in the saddle. 
“You ride well, I assume?” Aemond asks her.
She tries not to display any contempt at this subtle insult. “I believe myself to be a more than competent rider, Your Grace.”
He offers her a tight smile, though it fades quickly. His seeing eye remains alert. 
Two men of the Kingsguard ride with them through the city. Aemond does not wear his crown but the people know their King, atop his horse, Blackfyre hanging from his hip, his silver hair tied away from his face but flowing proudly down his back, his eyepatch an unmissable feature. They stand aside as they move through the streets, met with awe, either glad or fearful, and distant calls of “long live the King!” 
Aemond does not wave, smile or bow his head to anyone, though he occasionally looks over his shoulder to meet her gaze. Does he expect her to disappear? Does he expect her to ram a knife into his back? 
How quickly he seems to phase through different states of being. One moment he is amused, the next proud, the next infuriated, concerned, remorseful. And how terrible he is at hiding this in his face, no matter how subtle he is, but a mystery remains because she still cannot read his thoughts, no matter how she pleads to the old gods and the new that she could.
Before long, they reach the southern gates of the city. She can see the forest ahead of them as soon as they are out of the walls of King’s Landing. The trees are dark, lush evergreens, reaching far from the west and east towards the seafront, to the cliffs that overlook the bay, raised on hills and going further south than she can see.
The guards stay with them a little longer, until they pass over a bridge across the Blackwater Rush and the road becomes quieter. Most of the people here are travelling along the Rose Road towards Highgarden, but Aemond leads her towards the treeline, along a path often used for hunting, so he says. It seems to head towards the coast.
Mostly staying at the edge of the forest, the trees are sparse. It’s not like the wide open fields and hills that she is used to. To one side she sees tree trunks, spots of darkness where the forest is thicker and closer. To the other she sees glimpses of the sky and the sea below it. 
Aemond slows his horse slightly so they can ride side by side at a comfortable trot. Now she cannot look out over the bay without looking at him, or appearing to at least. 
She realises they have not spoken a single word to each other since they left the castle.
“Do you ride often?” she asks.
“When I wish to, and when I can find time to,” he says without looking at her.
She nods to herself, letting her eyes linger on the way he rocks with the motions of the saddle, the way he grips the reins with gloved hands.
“I like to hunt back at Runestone,” she says, facing forward once more, “do you hunt?”
This captures his attention. He turns his head to her, glances up and down. “You did not bring a bow.”
“Or a blade, no. I was not intending to kill anything this morning.”
Aemond hesitates, then smirks. “I never made a habit out of hunting. It is a tedious sport, more suited to times of peace.”
It is a harrowing reminder of the kind of man who rides beside her, a man who kills and holds his own family prisoner.
“You like to spar too. I see you in the courtyard most mornings,” she says.
“I do not like to make a spectacle of myself.”
“I wasn’t suggesting you did, but it is rather difficult to avoid when it happens below my window.”
He turns his head towards Rhaelle, and she finds herself entirely distracted. Away from the gloom of the Keep, without his crown and the way he commands the fear of his courtiers, his beauty is unobstructed. His lips and his seeing eye settle in a way that seems gentle. “If it disturbs you then I shall remedy it.” 
“No need,” she says, “for what it is worth, you perform extremely well.”
He smiles again, dipping his head slightly as he adjusts his hold of the reins. “Come then, you say you are a competent rider, I’d like to see a performance from you,” he says, catching her eye.
Her breath stops in her throat. 
He kicks his horse’s side and in an instant he’s bolting down the path.
It takes her a moment to realise what he wants, kicking her horse into a canter, then quickly into a full gallop. It follows her commands easily enough but she remains cautious, keeping a tight grip on the reins and with her thighs, chasing the gleam of silver ahead of her. She does not know if Aemond is leading her or racing her, and for now she doesn’t care. Excitement surges through her. She feels the impact of the horses hooves as they meet the dirt. Her stomach drops as they head deeper into the forest, darting between branches, leaping over streams and fallen trees.
She seems to be gaining on Aemond and spots a ridge she thinks might allow her to overtake him. It’s a risk she takes without thinking it through, urging her mount up and along the narrow trail. They seem to stumble at one point but she doesn’t stop. She passes Aemond, just as she thought she would. He looks up at her with a wide eye, the traces of a laugh echoing behind her as she leaps down, back onto the main path. 
There’s a clearing not far ahead where the path splits into two, she would wager Aemond had this in mind as an end point. She slows her horse gradually, checking behind her to see him doing the same. She turns the horse to face him, trying not to beam or appear too pleased with herself, but she cannot help it. Her cheeks burn at the exertion and the effort it’s taking to withhold her smile.
The sun is rising higher above them. The light catches on his hair, the thin sheen of sweat on his brow, the curve of his lip as he tries to catch his breath. “I’d say you are more than competent,” he calls, tugging on the reins to bring his own horse to a stop.
“I spent most of my childhood on horseback,” she says. “Ser Gerold always said I took after my mother.”
His amusement fades into something passive, observant.
“She used to take Alyssa and I out with her one at a time in the saddle with her. As soon as I was old enough to ride by myself I could hardly be kept from the stables. Alyssa and I used to race each other around the hills for hours, or until we were called back to the castle for our lessons.”
Aemond watches her as she speaks, breathing deeply, his brow hardened like he’s trying to concentrate.
“Still,” she says, patting her horse’s neck as it starts to get restless, “I cannot imagine it could ever compare to riding a dragon.”
“It is a poor substitute, to be sure,” Aemond says quietly, like he did on the balcony, but she can see the change in him again. With a quick huff, the gentle look in his face disappears and he dismounts his horse. “There’s a stream close by, we should water the horses.”
He approaches her, reaching his hands up to help her dismount. Her more prideful side wishes to tell him she does not need the help, but she accepts it, swinging her leg round so he can hold his waist as he lowers her down. She keeps her hands on his shoulders, even once her boots have met the ground. The pressure of his fingertips through the thick layers of fabric are almost intangible, but it makes her breathless all the same.
They take the horses to the stream at the edge of the clearing, tying the leads to a tree and patting them down reassuringly as they drink. Rhaelle sits herself in the grass, out in the sunlight. Aemond joins her, but he reminds her of a cautious animal, following her a little unsurely, sitting beside her, always watching the space around them.
The air is cold but she feels the sun’s warmth beaming down on her face.
She hears Aemond take a breath before he speaks. “You never claimed a dragon?”
“No,” she says.
“You never had an egg in your cradle?”
“No. My mother insisted her children would be born and raised in her home.”
“And in the traditions of House Royce?”
“For the most part.”
“But your father never…” he stops himself with a deep breath. With his chin tilted down he lifts his gaze to look at her. The sunlight shines in his right eye, cold and clear like a stream, like a cloudless violet sky at dusk. Like this, sat amongst overgrown grass and the last of the autumn wildflowers, he doesn’t look like a tyrant. He doesn’t look like a man who burned half of the Riverlands to ash and fought in a battle that left the waters of the God’s Eye red with blood. 
Ser Gerold would have been glad to see Daemon’s end. He called it “justice” when news came to Runestone of his death, justice for the wife he murdered and the daughters he neglected. 
Looking at Aemond now she wonders if he regrets it. Does he look at her and see the eyes of the man he killed staring back at him? Does it haunt him to be near her, is that why he watches her so intently?
“I asked him once if I could fly with him,” she says. “I was so desperate to know what it was like. He didn’t say anything, he didn’t laugh or scoff, he just looked down at me. My suggestion was so unremarkable that he didn’t waste so much as a breath on me. Of course I went crying to my mother about it. She took me into her arms and told me that the only difference between riding a dragon and riding a horse was the distance between you and the ground. So much further to fall, she said.”
He tilts his head. “I cannot disagree with her.”
And oh how her father must have fallen, through fire and empty space, into blood and water.
“What was it like to have a dragon?” she asks.
Something in him comes alive. He looks at her with a quiet excitement, shuffling ever so slightly closer to her. “I used to believe a dragon was a birthright. My siblings all claimed their mounts when they were young, and my nephews shared their cradles with eggs and watched them hatch. For many years I was an outlier, a dragonless Targaryen, I was nothing. But it is an earned right, one that must be claimed.” As he speaks he draws his knee up to rest his arm upon it, his hand restless as he speaks. “Dragons are creatures with their own wills. We cannot control them fully, but we guide them.”
“And you claimed the fiercest of them,” she says.
She remembers Driftmark like it was a dream. She remembers standing by the sea as the coffin of Laena Velaryon was delivered to the waves, looking at the faces of a family she scarcely knew in the aftermath, clinging to the only people she had left in the world, Daena and Alyssa.
She remembers someone storming into her chambers as she slept, the shadowy face of her father appearing in the moonlight that beamed through the window. “We are needed in the Hall of Nine,” he said.
“We?”
He found Alyssa in the next room and left Daena to sleep, marching down the dark corridors of Hightide. They walked in on a scene that terrified her. While their father leaned against the doorway, almost amused, Alyssa and Rhaelle walked further inside, hand in hand. They could not see clearly past the crowd that had gathered to watch this battle between the Princess and the Queen, but there was shouting, pleading, blood on the faces of Rhaenyra’s sons and blood on the face of the King’s son, Aemond.
She peered through the bodies, the fabric of nightgowns and the haze of the braziers to see him sitting there, stitches in his face, smaller cuts on his brow and his lip. He didn’t look at the eye discarded in a tray by his side, he didn’t look to his siblings for reassurance or comfort. First he glared at his father with a hatred that somehow seemed contained, stunned but unsurprised. Then he looked at his mother, with far more understanding than a child should ever have to need.
“Do not mourn me, mother,” the boy said, “I may have lost an eye, but I gained a dragon.”
“A dragon is terror and freedom,” Aemond says as her eyes drift over the edges of his scar and the details of the leather patch that conceals the rest. “When I claimed Vhagar, centuries of power and strength became mine. I felt her in solitude, I learned from her.”
It shows, she thinks, that he grew bonded to a beast of conquest, a witness to her fire and majesty, and took that into himself.
Her eyes trail lower, over his jaw, the pale skin of his neck just visible beneath his collar, which ends with a silver buckle. She can pinpoint the rise and fall of his breath, the detailings of golden dragons against the black leather, his hair draped over his shoulders and down his body.
She feels her legs getting numb and shifts her weight onto her palm, placed on the grass beside her so that she leans in closer to him.
“But to take flight on Vhagar,” Aemond says softly, a hint of a smile on his lips, his eye gleaming and trained on her, “to feel the force of her wings, the wind and the weightlessness…”
She feels herself clinging to every word he says, each subtle breath he takes, the minuscule movements in his face as he inches closer to her. Only for her heart to sink when he pauses. 
He reaches up, taking the end of her braid between his gloved fingers. “I wish you could have known what it was like.”
“It is like you said,” she says, “it is not a birthright, it is something earned.”
“By those of our blood,” Aemond says, his eye darting back up to meet hers. “You should have had the chance to earn it.”
Our blood, the blood of dragons and conquerors, of Queens and Princes, of weak Kings and cruel fathers.
He releases his hold of her hair, positioning it over her shoulder and tracing his fingertips over the coat of her leathers. His eye follows, then slowly returns to her face. “Might I show you something?” 
“Yes, of course,” she says, carefully withholding eagerness in her voice. “Shall we fetch the horses?”
“No,” Aemond says, rising and offering his hand for her to take. “We’ll go on foot.”
He keeps her hand in his, leather against leather, as he leads her down the path, freshly disturbed by hoof prints, away from the clearing and back into the forest. He stops where the path diverged into two and with a small inclination of his head, they walk along the trail that leads uphill. This way is not as the other, overgrown with grass and even the thick, twisted roots of trees. Aemond is keen to guide her, walking just ahead, tightening his grip on her at the slightest of obstacles. 
The hill becomes steep, and in fact she is grateful for his caution when she loses her footing on a loose rock and he is there to steady her, determined that she shall stay upright. The higher they climb the sparser the trees, the louder the wind howls, the closer the sound of the water becomes. The path leads on, but Aemond stops and steps out into the open.
She stands behind his shoulder to shield herself from the wind, clutching his hand and squinting through the blinding sunlight on the eastern horizon, over the waves of the Blackwater, roaring and crashing against one another, against the base off the cliff they stand on. The city is nothing but distant shapes, further along the curve of the shore. The Red Keep, where standing at its gates seems to reach high into the heavens, seems so unremarkable from here. The cold seeps through her leathers. Sea salt stings in her eyes and on her tongue.
“My mother’s sworn shield taught me to ride on horseback, Ser Criston Cole. He’d lead me through these woods, until I knew all the trails by heart,” Aemond says, leaning into her so she can hear him. His breath is warm against her ear, his grip on her hand still unrelenting. “I came across this place when I was a boy. I used to sit here for hours, especially when the others would ride their dragons.”
Gulls sail effortlessly through the sea air. She imagines dragons in their place.
“A childish indulgence,” Aemond mutters.
“Show me,” she says, tilting her head up to meet his eye.
He smiles to himself. “Stand there,” he says, pointing to the very edge of the cliff face, at a slab of grey stone reaching out below the rocks and spray of the sea.
“On the ledge?” she says, her legs unsure beneath her.
He releases her hand to gently guide her by her waist. “Right here,”
Her stomach lurches when her boots leave the earth. If it is the truth or a trick of the mind the stone seems to move beneath her. “Aemond, I’m going to fall!”
But he holds her waist tight, pulling her into him until she feels the heat of his body through their riding leathers, the hilt of Blackfyre pressing against her back.  “I’ve got you,” he murmurs in her ear, “I’ve got you.”
She cannot seem to breathe, gasping for air as she wills her heart to calm. She grasps at his hands, clinging to him as if he would not merely fall with her. His proximity to her is not quite comforting, it only seems to make her more afraid, but it is a pleasant sort of fear.
“Can you imagine it,” he says, leaning his cheek against her temple, “out of reach of the rest of the world, the heat of a dragon beneath you, the wind against your skin, the weightlessness?”
The force of the wind seems to push her closer into his grasp. She can feel the terror. One misstep and she will fall, her body dashed out over the rocks below, her blood feeding into the water.
“I could feel her fire brewing beneath her hide. I could feel it burning in my blood and my throat before she unleashed it,” Aemond whispers, his lips grazing the shell of her ear.
She shudders, letting herself turn into him, letting her hands close around his wrists.
He leans into her, resting his forehead against hers. She feels his heat. She feels something like fire burning in her blood and wonders if it burns in his too. A gloved hand delicately takes her chin. 
It would be easy to give into him, she thinks. She would have been glad to do it the first time she laid eyes upon him.
But she knows she must not allow herself to be ruled by impulse and desire. She cannot escape him completely but she turns her head back towards the open water. Aemond is still holding her, still breathing against her neck.
She waits for him to guide her back, to the safety of solid ground, away from the ledge. Now he cannot meet her eye.
They walk back to the clearing and Aemond holds her hand again, though this time she does not stumble. Aemond unties her horse, helps her into her saddle and she waits for him before they set off back down the path.
The ride back to King’s Landing is a silent one. Each step their horses take through the woods feels heavy in her ears, the closing of a door, the beat of a funeral drum. She looks ahead to Aemond, hoping he will turn back and catch her eye but he does not. 
She wants to tear her hair out from the roots and strike herself across the face. She couldn’t afford to make another mistake and yet she has done exactly that. What if the King feels slighted? What if he holds this against her? 
The guards are waiting for them by the bridge and escort them back through the city. The streets are busier and grey now that the sun has risen and hidden itself behind a sky of clouds.
But the entrance yard at the Red Keep is no longer filled with servants. Instead the clashes of steel ring out against the walls of the castle, as men of the Kingsguard, nobles and knights spar, to the awe of a few spectators.
Aemond pays little mind to the people in the yard. Even when they greet him he simply nods his head. As his horse is taken by a stable hand, swings a leg over the head and slips effortlessly from the saddle.
Then he approaches her horse, wordlessly holding out his hands, offering his assistance. She allows this, and purposefully turns to face him once her boots have met the ground, keeping her hands on his shoulders, not too firmly, for she cannot appear to be too forceful.
“Your Grace,” she says, determined that their eyes should meet again. “I am sorry if I have offended you, truly,” she says quietly, though she will hardly avoid attention when she stands with the King, his hands lingering on her waist, more timidly than he had been in the woods.
Aemond looks at her, and once again his expression is a gentle one. “I am anything but,” he says, one of his thumbs tracing circles over her leathers. He lowers his voice. “The truth is I am deeply moved by your loyalty to your sister. You were right, I have regrets of my own.”
There have been all kinds of rumours regarding Queen Helaena’s death. Some say she was pushed from the window, perhaps even by Rhaenyra herself, and others say she threw herself from it. She was driven mad by grief, supposedly, since the murder of her eldest son, and perhaps she could bear the pain no longer. Perhaps the cause was the false news of Aemond’s death at the God’s Eye. At first the only news had come from smallfolk in the nearby lands, that both Princes had fallen. A fortnight later Aemond arrived at King’s Landing, dragonless, but decidedly alive.
“I often ask myself why I did not do more for them. Why did I put them in danger? Why did I leave them? Why did I not return to them…”
Something else catches his attention. His gaze has moved from her face, to the leather breastplate she wears under her coat, embroidered with ancient runes, naturally.
“What does that say?” he asks in a voice like ice, tracing his fingertips over the golden thread, over the same markings written into the sleeves of the first gown she wore in King’s Landing.
“Have you seen it before? It is an old saying in the Vale,” she says, startled by another shift in him, “the words read: learn to die.”
His throat hums, lowly and softly. His eye returns to hers, his lips curling into a self assured smile, the kind that infuriates her because it means he knows something she does not.
He releases her waist, then reaches for her hand. He pinches the end of her right glove and pulls it from her slowly, the lack of warmth stinging her bare skin.
He whispers, “I cannot give you what you ask of me, not now at least. But I will try.” He raises her hand and presses his lips against it. “I promise you, I will try.”
Blood blooms beneath her cheeks. For once Aemond’s words fill her with hope. He seems sincere, she wants that to be the truth.
She smiles politely. “Thank you, Your Grace—”
“Your Grace!” Calls a voice from the steps to the Keep. Aemond’s hand falls away from hers and he faces away from her as Martyn Hightower approaches them. “All the preparations have been made for you to receive Lady Floris and Lady Cassandra. They are expected to arrive before the day’s end.” 
She watches Aemond bring one hand to the hilt of his sword. The other he brings behind his back, clenched in a fist. “Good,” he says, and turns towards Rhaelle again, his body following his head. “Thank you for accompanying me this morning, my Lady.”
She takes a breath, meaning to thank him but then he’s stalking across the yard and disappearing into the castle.
Rhaelle decides she can hardly bear the sight of him walking away.
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Tags (comment to be added)
General taglist: @randomdragonfires @jamespotterismydaddy @theoneeyedprince @tsujifreya @dreamsofoldvalyria @lacebvnny
Series taglist: @adragonprinceswhore @persephonerinyes @gemini-mama @aemondzyrys @snh96 @magnificentdelusionr @aegonx @xxxkat3xxx @dahlias-and-marigolds @mandiiblanche @thaisthedreamer @heavenly1927 @herfantasyworldd @heimtathurs @minttea07
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tteokdoroki · 8 months
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✩࿐TRACK 03: WAR WITH HEAVEN. izuku midoriya (2K)
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about. upon spending time apart from your pro-hero fwb, deku, for a work trip — he quickly realises he wants it all with you. heaven, hell and life on earth.
warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! suggestive, sfw, slight angst, fluff, happy ending, sneaky links, long distance relationships, mentions of alcohol, mentions of sex, friends with benefits to lovers, journalist + fem!reader, pro hero!deku.
things to note. another saturday is upon us and so is another instalment!! i really like this one n can’t believe we’re half way through already !! anyways i hope you enjoy <3 - masterlist / series masterlist / series playlist ✩
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whether you believe it or not, izuku midoriya has never been hopelessly in love. 
like most people with an overexposure to romance saturated media — the number one hero has always had that nagging feeling, craving for something more. the person to come home to, the partner, the kids and the dog that chews through the white picket fence or makes a mess on the freshly cut lawn. he wants a family like most individuals. but with a schedule as busy and a lifestyle as reckless as his…there’s hardly any time for izuku’s dreams. 
dreams were for losers, anyways. 
after high school, izuku quickly learned that dreaming wasn’t enough to get by even if it had motivated him to become a hero. reality is harsh and full of hard truths — bearing the responsibility of future number one and being all might’s prodigy had taught him that. so his rose tinted view of the future he had planned for himself quickly collapsed, the stain glass window shattering above him while its shards nicked at izuku’s youthful, hopeful skin.
he wasn’t so pure and good after leaving U.A — at least not in front of the public. behind closed doors izuku was a pessimist. he was sly and maybe a little sleazy, always on the prowl for something or someone to toy with. little deku was all grown up, no longer baby-faced and bright eyed but instead buffer with an unfairly tiny waist and an angular sharpness to his jaw that could cut diamonds. 
he was attractive and he knew it — his new found confidence bled into his sex appeal and sky rocketed his popularity and now…the number one controls the whole of Japan in the palm of his hand. everybody wants a taste of the new and improved izuku midoriya. 
everyone including you. 
mindless hookups, despite being easy stress relief, always left izuku with a sour taste in his mouth. conservations with the elite that happened to stumble into his bed never went further than superficial talk and the odd ‘lets do this again sometime’s. he hated how people would change around him, clinging onto him after a night in the sheets like deku owed them a piece of his soul. 
being the number one was no longer enough for hungry mouths. sex no longer satisfied those in his circle. 
that was until he met you. the first time deku encountered you (at a hero press junket), you had been a shy intern journalist forced to follow around her mentor with an extreme lust for the green haired hero. he felt bad for you, you were obviously there to learn and do your job but the senior professional they’d stuck you with couldn’t help but slobber all over him instead of teaching you. 
half-way through the junket, izuku had managed to sneak away from the pestering paparazzi to get a moment to himself — and it seemed, you’d had similar ideas. his initial assessment of your character was way off too. you were quiet, sure, but observant and snarky as well. a realist just like him. and somehow, you’d managed to convince him to leave to conference; get drinks at a secret roof top bar for only the highest members of japanese hero society, and talk and talk for hours about everything and anything. from quirks to the best snack combinations at the only kombini open past three AM on your street.
izuku liked you, he hadn’t felt such a spark for someone since his rookie days. you were cute, he couldn’t stop looking at your eyes and how they sparkles. your lips when you sipped the drinks he ordered for you and the way you instinctively leaned up to deku just to hear what he was saying. 
the way you ended up in his bed that night was no mystery to either of you. 
except the sensual and sultry night you shared together didn’t end there — at every event, every occasion, where journalists were required to be present, you found yourselves gravitating towards one another. one moment you’d be sharing bedroom eyes with one another from across the room and the next deku would have you bent over in bathroom stalls, his hushed moans in your ear and his fingers deep in your mouth to keep you quiet.  
months went by and the sex didn’t stop, neither of you wanted it to. you made izuku feel a little bit whole again, you made him feel good and made him laugh all in the same breath. he didn’t just like it when you left your claim on his neck bordering the line of keeping your rendezvous a secret and letting the whole world find out — but he liked it when you stayed over and wore his shirts around his luxury apartment. or came to hang out with him at his private gym with a bag of cheat-day take-out katsudon and an earful of gossip from your office. 
deku really liked you, more than he should’ve for a girl who was meant to be just a fling, more than he should’ve for someone who didn’t have time in his day for a lover.
“did you get over me?” the hero pouts into the FaceTime call, watching you struggle to grab your luggage off of the conveyer belt in baggage claim. if he were there, he’d have gotten it for you by now.
despite not being anything serious to one another, izuku had made it a habit to weasel his way into your everyday life. you sent cute little good morning and goodnight texts to one another, along with other messages like ‘get home safe’ and ‘have a good day’ too. those text messages quickly escalated to phone calls once the green haired number one admitted to you that it’s hard to fight crime whilst looking for the right kao emoji to send you.
you roll your eyes, coy smile budding on the edges of your lips. “it’s only been two hours, izuku.” you say, finally managing to grab your bag before you head out to the main lobby of the airport.
one thing about that man, is that he’s clingy as fuck. all of your attention has to be on him or he’ll feel like he might die. with you being away for the weekend at a journalism conference instead of in his arms, izuku feels like he might burn the whole world down from the ground up. just to be near you.
either that or he’s just extremely pussy whipped. 
“streets are sayin’ you might sleep with that guy from your team while you’re there, is that true?” deku fires back, running a scarred hand through the mass of curls atop his head. he lets it run down to smooth over his face, peach fuzz starting to grow through — but you made him promise not to shave until the day after you got back. apparently his light stubble against your inner thighs made you cum so much—
“—i don’t even like him like that, you big baby,” you tell him matter of factly, cutting through his train of thought and bringing your phone up to your face once more to let emerald eyes peek down your sweater. “and i think he’d get the hint if he saw all these damn marks on my neck.” 
pink blooms underneath the freckles on midoriya’s cheeks at the sight of the purple hues decorating your neck and shoulders. he remembers the extra turtlenecks you had to pack because of it. “couldn’t help it, i needed to give you a reminder of what you’d be missing while you were away from me.” 
“you’re so dramatic, deku.” 
“oh, you wound me, angel.” he purrs into the mic with a sly grin, knowing that he’s affecting you just as much as he misses you. especially when you give him a pointed glare. izuku let’s the conversation wither out as you order yourself an uber that’ll take you the hotel. he can’t help but chuckle when you perk up and notice the amount of money he’s sent you to cover the costs of it. “yanno…” deku mumbles, resting his cheeks on his knuckles. “you’re like heaven away from hell to me.” 
you won’t admit how sexy he looks, even if izuku is all googly-eyed and soft for you. even if his forest green locks curl over his pretty eyes and hide them. it almost pisses you off. that he’s so blissfully unaware of how fucking pretty he is and how that mere fact manages to ruin you you even though you’re miles apart. “what’s hell, then?”
“my work. this city. this apartment, without you.” he says smoothly, filling your stomach with butterflies. izuku has a away about him that makes you feel like you’re his entire world and only his — but there’s never been any strings attached, you’ll never fully be his and he’ll very much be the nation’s hero (and dick) until someone manages to tie him down. 
“are you asking me to move in with you, izuku?” there’s no expectancy in your voice — you say it mostly as a joke because you have no idea how much the number one pines for you. how tonight, he’ll drink himself into a stupor with his friends and whine to them about how much he misses you. izuku may have changed on the outside, may be stronger and faster but he’s still that insecure teenager on the inside. 
he has to force his knees to stop knocking whenever you’re around. he finds himself swallowing the lump in his throat whenever he thinks about the possibility of you being with someone who isn’t you. he feels sick to the stomach and panics at the thought of losing you. you mess with deku’s head in the worst of ways and yet he finds himself wanting more. nevertheless, he smiles, loving how his name sounds on the sweet glaze of your lips. 
“you’ve got a place in my bed. you’re always here anyways.” 
“you’d never let me leave it, if you had a say in the matter.” 
“you’d never have to work again if you let the number one hero take care of you angel.” izuku sighs longingly, giving you his cutest pair of puppy dog eyes that never fail to make you swoon. “but you love your job.” 
“i do.” your uber pulls up and you reply curtly so you can properly greet your driver. they aid you with your suitcase and you slip your headphones on while in the back seat to keep your special conversation private. 
“do you love me?” he can’t help but ask. izuku is hopelessly enamoured by you, you’re like a virus that’s spread across his brain and controls his every thought or action. he needs you like his lungs need oxygen to breathe — you’ve changed him for the better, shown him that maybe he can have both work and luxury. a family and foundation. with you, if you’d want him. 
“izuku.” you warn, but playfully.
“so it’s true,” the hero drawls across the line in faux disappoint  though his eyes speak mischief. “you only like me for my cock ‘n my money.” you can practically hear the pout on his pretty plump lips. 
a fondness takes over you and you can’t help but squirm happily. “and your pretty boy smile,” you squeal cutely, filling midoriya with the same amount of fondness “don’t forget.”
“so you do love me.” 
“i can’t answer that until you ask what you want to ask me properly.” 
“alright then,” sitting up, deku grasps at his phone between shaky fingers and holds it above his head — giving you the perfect view of his freckled and scared (and chiselled) body. he chews on the swell of his lower lip, dancing around the question he knows he wants to ask. “angel. i want you. more than just a fling. i want you to be mine.” he blurts, closing his eyes so that his thoughts come easy and he can’t see you reject him.
midoriya doesn’t know what he would do if he lost you, he’s seen what losing your love has done to his friends. kirishima and his partner had almost broken up with each other recently. he’d be a mess in that situation.  izuku has faced too many hardships in his life, his career, to let this one good thing slip from between his fingers. 
“will you? be mine?”
he sees you poke your tongue into your cheek, laughing as you pretend to think. “i will, izuku. i want nothing more,” you coo. “keep my side of the bed warm. i’ll be home soon.” 
relief floods through deku’s body. “don’t be too long, gorgeous.” with a couple of blow kisses, he lets you go with the reminder to call him back once you’re settled in at the hotel (so he can pay for your room service). it’s only when you’re alone again that izuku realises he’d rip stars from the sky to be with you, pull the heavens right down to earth to be by your side.
you’re everything to izuku, and for you, he’d go to war with heaven. 
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꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.
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pocketseizure · 3 months
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The Two Kings in Tears of the Kingdom
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Tears of the Kingdom unearths the roots of Calamity Ganon in an ancient conflict between Rauru, the first king of Hyrule, and Ganondorf, a rival king who attempted to usurp him. In many ways, Rauru is characterized as a good king. He is noble, kind, and self-sacrificing, and he acts for the long-term benefit of the various groups of people living in Hyrule. In contrast to Rauru, the antagonist Ganondorf is an evil king who started a war because of his pride, ego, and greed.
Rauru and Ganondorf represent different styles of authority, both of which are grounded in Japanese fantasies of cultural identity. I’d argue that, in the end, neither king is fit to rule present-day Hyrule, which is why it’s appropriate that the game ends without any call to rebuild Hyrule Castle or the centralized government it symbolizes.
Rauru represents a golden age in Japanese culture when many arts now seen as “traditional” originated. This golden age is closely tied to Nintendo’s home city of Kyoto, which is associated with the culture of the imperial court before it moved to Tokyo in 1868. Because Tears of the Kingdom is a fantasy, the visual metaphors of Rauru’s character design are mixed, but his connection to a bygone golden age is tied to two symbols: the magatama jewels referred to as “secret stones,” and the kare-sansui dry landscape gardens of the Shrines of Light and the Temple of Time.   
The “secret stones” that Rauru gives to the six sages have the distinctive comma shape of a magatama jewel, one of the three sacred symbols of Shinto. These three symbols are as follows: a mirror represents clarity of heart, a sword represents the power to protect the weak, and a jewel represents the materiality of divine blessings. These three objects also serve as the regalia of the Japanese emperor, whose role was historically to perform ritual prayers and thereby serve as a symbolic bridge between the world of humans and the world of gods.
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There is nothing sacrosanct about magatama jewels; at various street fairs and tourist areas throughout Japan, you can buy inexpensive polished quartz and jade magatama to attach to phone charms or friendship bracelets. As a result of its relative ubiquity, this particular shape of gem has both a historical and a pop culture association with being a magical stone bestowed by the gods on special and worthy individuals such as, most famously, the first Japanese emperor.
Along with his magatama “secret stones,” Rauru is associated with kare-sansui dry landscape gardens of the old imperial capital. Note, for instance, the front courtyard of the Temple of Time that Link visits at the beginning of the game:
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The visual motif of raked white gravel punctuated by standing rocks also appears in various permutations within the Shrines of Light established by Rauru and Sonia. To give an example, this is what the player will see if they circle back behind the entrance of the “Rauru’s Blessing” shrines:
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This style of dry landscape garden is frequently referred to as a “Zen garden” because of its association with large Buddhist temples in and around Kyoto. The most famous example of this style can be found at Ryōanji, in northwest Kyoto:
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The philosophy of these gardens meshes well with the philosophy behind the Zelda series, which Shigeru Miyamoto has described as his attempt to create a tsuboniwa miniature garden for the player to explore. In the same way, dry landscape gardens represent a larger landscape portrayed on a much smaller scale. The rocks in the gravel are meant to represent islands on the ocean, or perhaps mountaintops rising above the clouds. Another common interpretation of these gardens – and one especially pertinent to Tears of the Kingdom – is that the rocks are the dorsal spines of a dragon swimming through the sky.   
Although dry landscape gardens have strong ties to Buddhist thought, they were primarily created by wealthy lords residing in Kyoto during the fifteenth century. This was a politically unstable era, and these lords needed to make a show of their wealth and cultural legitimacy. Unlike in China, where Chan Buddhism was largely anti-establishment, Zen Buddhism was the domain of the wealthy educated elite in Japan. Many of the rocks used in Zen-style gardens were imported from China and Korea at great expense, and lords competed to secure the services of celebrity landscape designers. Even today, the late medieval culture represented by dry landscape gardens is associated with the prestige of Japan’s former imperial capital of Kyoto.
Rauru is therefore associated with nobility and a certain air of sophistication. In the original Japanese script, he is unflaggingly polite and addresses everyone – Zelda, Ganondorf, and Link alike – with the sort of “clean” language associated with people of high social standing. To put it simply, Rauru is a perfect gentleman. He is the personification of the aristocratic virtues of the “traditional Japan” of the late fifteenth century, during which the wealthy filled the capital city with gardens while countless wars ravaged the countryside.    
In contrast, Ganondorf is a personification of the warrior culture of eastern Japan, especially as it was exemplified by the warlords who competed for territory outside the capital before the establishment of the Tokugawa shogunate at the beginning of the seventeenth century.
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Oda Nobunaga was the most notorious of these warlords. He was infamous for being aggressive but effective, and his military prowess and ruthless tactics have been memorialized in a wealth of stories whose lineage stretches to the video games of the present day. I believe that Nobunaga (or, at least, a commonly fictionalized version of him) served as a model for Ganondorf, who seeks to take advantage of the instability of the newly established kingdom of Hyrule in order to expand his own territory.
Like Rauru, Ganondorf’s character design contains mixed visual metaphors, but I think it’s fair to say that his topknot and costume are meant to evoke a samurai who has thrown off the kimono sleeve covering his sword arm as an indication of his readiness for battle. This is a style still worn by practitioners of Japanese fencing and archery, which are common extracurricular activities in many high schools. Appropriately, Ganondorf fights with a tachi katana, a naginata spear, and the body-length longbow used in kyūdō archery – all weapons associated with the martial arts of Japan’s medieval military elite.
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As if to cement his connection to Nobunaga, Ganondorf speaks in period-drama “samurai Japanese” that demonstrates neither the elegance nor the poetry of his incarnations in previous games. He seems to lack both regret and awareness of the consequences of his actions, and he is concerned primarily with hierarchy, conquest, and the thrill of battle.  
As was arguably the case for Nobunaga himself, there is no endgame for Ganondorf, only scorched earth. Ganondorf has absolute faith in his own power, and he views other people only as subordinates or enemies. According to his value system, there is no merit in compromise; he simply takes it for granted that he will win.
It makes sense that the aggressively bloodthirsty Ganondorf is a villain, but it’s important to understand that Rauru is not a hero. With all his magic and culture and imperial splendor, Rauru failed to understand that the system of power he created could easily be turned against him. A nation politically defined by a central authority whose rule is justified through military conquest and the cultural chauvinism of “ancient tradition” is not sustainable, and the legacy of such a kingdom can only be tears.
This is why Hyrule Castle remains in ruins at the end of Tears of the Kingdom, and this is why the game’s central hub is a research station populated with people from all over the world. This is why Zelda doesn’t attempt to re-establish Hyrule as a kingdom, and this is why it’s so important to her to understand the reality behind the myth of the nation’s history. This is also why the grand mythology of Hyrule’s origin is far less important to the player’s experience of the game than individual acts of community building. The highlights of Tears of the Kingdom are Link’s work in facilitating a local election in Hateno, helping Lurelin recover from a disaster, and volunteering in towns facing environmental issues such as water pollution and climate change.
Both Rauru and Ganondorf are compelling in their own ways, but it’s thematically satisfying that both characters are gone at the end of the game. When Zelda meets with the regional leaders of Hyrule during the closing cutscene, they promise each other that they will work together to ensure a lasting peace that neither of the two kings made possible. The legacy of the past still affects Hyrule, but Tears of the Kingdom suggests that it’s the duty of the younger generation to understand where this legacy came from in order to avoid the mistakes of their ancestors and move forward in a more hopeful direction.
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forever--darling · 1 year
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snga’itseng — just the beginning | neteyam x avatar!reader
summary: you are given an avatar for your birthday and end up lost and alone in the woods. the sully children bring you to the village where neytiri agrees to let you stay under one condition, you learn the omatikaya ways from her oldest son.
pairings: neteyam x avatar!reader
word count: 15.0k
warnings/notes: cursing, enemies to lovers, lo'ak x avatar!reader (slightly), mention of sky people, mention of death, perfect soldier!neteyam, protective mother neytiri
series masterlist | one of us: part one |requests are currently open for now
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“When we sent the sky people back to Earth, a few of them stayed. Science guys loyal to the Na’vi. They kept to themselves away from the village to keep from causing panic to those that were left by the destruction the sky people left behind.  Somehow though they reproduced any way and then there was Y/N, only a few months younger than our own son, Neteyam. From day one there was something about her, a connection to Pandora, unlike anyone I had ever seen. She studied what Grace had left behind and grew up asking any question she could about our world and the Omatikaya people. But she refrained from ever having direct contact with them, as she was and always would be one of the sky people. Isolated from the only world she ever knew, she stayed away to keep the rest of the Omatikaya clan at peace. 
Then there was Spider. He was just as stuck here as Y/N was. Both were too young to be born in a place this dangerous and completely ethereal. He, unlike the slightly older girl, took to the forest, to the Omatikaya village, experiencing anything and everything he could. No one liked having him around at first, but as years passed, people became understanding and let him come and go freely. His presence, however, near what was once Home Tree and the village, didn’t stop the Omatikaya children from running off towards the old link base to find the human girl who had fallen irrevocably in love with the world she was born into. And when I mean the Omatikaya children I mean my own.”
The Na’vi say that every person is born twice. The second time is when they earn their place among the people. That was something you had learned based on the data Dr. Grace Augustine had left behind. Through the numerous journals and video logs, she kept, as well as the raw footage taken from the school that once was open to the Na’vi children for learning English. One attempt at bridging a communication divide. The scientist was completely wonderful that way, in love with the Omatikaya people and the planet of Pandora. It was more of her home than her birth planet ever had been. You never got to meet her of course. A casualty in the war against the sky people eighteen years ago. A war you never witnessed but were born into. A part of a species that was concerned with mining for Unobtainium, the answer to the economic struggles of its homeland, and destroying the village’s home to do that. 
Omatikaya are pure at heart, you’re convinced, pure spirits looking to feel and have a complete connection with their world. It’s something you wished for more than anything you could feel. Something as simple as the ability to smell the fresh air or feel it on your face without an oxygen mask keeping you alive. The avatar was no longer alive and not even Ubobtainum could get that up and running again. Grace Augustine was the primary scientist behind the program that made the impossible possible — for humans to be able to walk around freely without the possibility of suffocation from the particles in the air. How?
Well, large blue bodies resembling those of the Na’vi that ultimately served as vessels. Vessels to experience life somewhat like one of the Omatikaya did. Without the money, there aren’t enough resources or scientists to keep the program running let alone create any more avatars or dream walkers, as the Omatikaya call them. The last became the great Toruk Makto and the Olo’eyktan or chief of the Omatikaya. The story is almost a legend. A legend you knew would never repeat itself. So, thus oxygen masks were the only way of survival outside of the compaction-sealed rooms left behind after the war. Living a normal life was not an option at least not for mouth breathers from a dying planet. 
Except you never felt like you could be considered one of those, a human of Earth as you weren’t from there, not really. Sure by association but you didn’t have any connection to that world and you never would. You were born on Pandora almost eighteen years ago and somehow after the abandonment of your parents, you’re paying the price. A beautiful death trap is what you called the planet as it was the most breathtaking place you had ever been in. Something you had been studying and realizing for years as that was all you were allowed to do. Take samples and study the planet and the species that occupied it. 
In addition to learning from the scientists of the past that had the ability to speak to the natives and learn their ways of life. So, you studied the language, the culture, the ways of life of the land. Not fully understanding the people, you were enchanted with the Na’vi, specifically the Omatikaya clan that only sat miles away hidden within the forest. Sometimes you closed your eyes and almost just almost could picture what it would be like to be one of them. The purest of souls. That's how you remained sane all those years; your childhood was spent within a lab, with scientists as your proxy parents. Scientists who didn’t have any initial history with raising a child, let alone two. 
Miles Socorro, your adoptive brother if you could even call him that was only about a year younger than you, born on this forsaken island with parents who didn’t quite understand their role in the destruction your species caused. Unlike your parents, they were more focused on destroying the clan of the forest as well as its resources rather than preserving it, and eventually, it caught up to both of them. You didn’t claim him as your brother, though many of the scientists considered him to be, but rather a problematic monkey boy who wished to disregard the feelings of the Omatikaya people in favor of his own wants or needs.
Spider became what you knew him as, as you got older and suddenly his presence around the lab faltered, barely lingering. He ran off when he was young and somehow his charming wit and quick reflexes were enough to earn a spot within the clan. Metaphorically though because as long as he was human he would never be one of them. None of you would be. As the Na’vi has said, “Every person is born twice…” but when you are one of the sky people you will never earn a place among the people. 
“Y/N?”
The voice of Norm Spellman, one of the two scientists you considered yourself to have worked under for most of your life appeared in the doorway of the lab, a small smile adorned on his face. It widened at the sight of you once again sitting at Dr. Augustine’s old desk, reviewing the same psionic link logs you had watched at least a dozen times. 
Pausing it with ease, you stared at the woman’s face for a moment before meeting his gaze again, “Sorry, yes?” 
“Do you think you could go grab the container for the Dandetiger plant downstairs? I would like to take a couple of slides of it.” 
You nodded and watched as he disappeared out of the room again. Sighing, you gazed down at the computer screen, meeting the smile of Dr. Augustine as she recapped her day spent at the school with the Na’vi children. Shaking your head sadly, you glanced up past the screen across the lab into the open doorway of the incubator room. There she sat, still surrounded in that blue illuminant liquid kept away from the rest of the world. Her avatar looked so much like her, even now. Even after all these years. With Grace gone there was no one else that shared the DNA to use her avatar, so day after day that’s where it sat; in clear view of your desk, motionless. It was such a waste. You shook your head and logged off the computer. 
As you came back up from the storage room, you held one sample of the Dandetiger and one from the Tree of Voices or what was left of it after it was bulldozed down by the sky people. It didn’t glow as it once did but somehow as you stared down at it through the microscope, you could almost picture it in all of its beauty. You handed off the specimen to Norm and crossed the room peering in towards Max, who sat at his desk looking over an image of a brain. Max was the other scientist you primarily worked under and the one who had raised you all these years. He was older now, gray littered in his beard and hair peppered slightly, but somehow as people have told you he remained ever the same. Kind, slightly bossy, and completely enamored by this place he called home. 
Leaning into the doorway, you cleared your throat, and instantly upon your presence, he closed the tab out from his computer, the hologram disappearing into thin air. Your brows furrowed for a mere second but thought to ignore it. “Hi, Max. Whatcha doing?” 
“Nothing,” he brushed off, examining you as well as the specimen in your hands, “What are you doing?” 
You shrugged, smiling, “Nothing.” 
He chuckled under his breath knowing that this was something you often did, took samples from the Tree of Voices or Home Tree just trying to piece together the past and way of life of the Omatikaya before the sky people invaded. He liked to think it was the scientist in you, but really your heart and soul for the world around you. You sent him a wink just as you planned to slip away when he called out to you again. 
The next time you looked over at him, there was something in his hand, a pastry decorated with frosting and sprinkles, and a single candle stuck out of the top of it. A cupcake. He lit the candle and handed it over to you. Your heart felt heavy at that moment as you glanced back and forth from it in your hands to the older man before you, a warm expression across his face. “What is this?” 
“Happy birthday.” 
Your eyes widened, almost having entirely forgotten as a soft smile suddenly appeared. Eighteen, that was right. You were turning eighteen and somehow you had let it almost slip by with how the days had once again begun to blur together. Boredom had set in and somehow you blinked and it was your birthday. Nodding, you blew out the candle and thanked him. 
You turned away and took one step back in the direction of the lab when something caught your attention out of the corner of your eye. Outside of the window, where the green grass was bright under the sunlight, you watched as three Na’vis approached the camp accompanied by none other than Spider leading the frontier. Just when you thought you could have a peaceful birthday, his smug face would have to appear and ruin it. 
You rolled your eyes and called out back towards Max, “We got company.” 
“No, you mean you have company,” he called back, correcting you.
Sighing, you hurried away from the door back towards the lab, where you quickly set up your microscope to pretend you were busy working. Just as you took a seat, you swiped your finger across the top of the cupcake and stuck it into your mouth. You hummed in satisfaction just as the compact sealed door opened and closed near the entryway, then in a matter of seconds, all you could hear was the patter of a pair of feet. 
Even if you never would be accepted by the people, that somehow didn’t stop you from ever interacting with members of the Omatikaya clan. Jake Sully the last dream walker happened to have children, four in fact. One was a direct spawn from Grace’s avatar, something that still remained a mystery. Consequently, his three youngest became quite close with Spider, and with that friendship came a complete entrancement with the lab and the sky people that inhabited it. Somehow the Sully children seemed the most fascinated with you, the only human girl they ever came face to face with, especially one that was close to their age. Kiri, the daughter of Grace, supposedly from Eywa was the same age as Lo’ak, Toruk Makto’s second oldest child. They were seventeen now, and even to this day still argued like those young kids when you had first met them. Then there was Tuk, the youngest of the family that always blackmailed her older siblings into letting her tag along on everything she could. The threat always consisted of tattling on them to their mother and that always proved to be enough for Lo’ak to let her tag along. 
The eldest Sully child, a son around your age, had been mentioned quite often and not always kindly by his siblings, mostly Lo’ak but after all these years, he still had never shown his face here. Never among the sky people. You never asked why, but you didn’t have to as the younger brother always spoke about how the golden child was off training to one day become the Olo’eyktan of the Omatikaya people. Somehow he had managed to stay out of his younger siblings' bullshit but you heard about him quite often, more often than you needed to. 
Even after all these years, the sound of their voices and the hurried steps across the cement floor never ceased to surprise you. The only contact you had with the Na’vi people in your lab was constantly in your face. At first, they didn’t pay you much mind other than Lo’ak who somehow even at the age of ten was the smuggest bastard you had ever met. He found it quite easy to flirt with you, enjoying the way you glared over in his direction and threatened to hit him upside the head. Kiri was the first one you had initially talked to, often about her mother, offering to share whatever you could with her, including the video logs. No one could quite explain how she ended up here but you were more than willing to help try and piece it together. In exchange she talked about her village, the Omatikaya people, and often would bring you gifts, things that they valued within their lives. You kept them over the years. They all resided safely away in your room upon your desk overlooking a window that peered out to the forest. 
“Y/N!” 
The eight-year-old’s steps slapped across the floor as she appeared from the hallway practically sprinting. As you glanced over your shoulder, you were met with a blue figure colliding with you and your chair. You stumbled slightly backward as the arms wrapped around your waist, face leaned against your torso. Tuk hugged you tightly and you couldn’t help the smile that appeared at the affection. 
“Well, hello.” 
A few seconds later the rest of them emerged into the lab, Kiri grinning and Lo’ak and Spider messing around, barely even looking your way. Finally, their bickering ceased, and found you staring over at them. Spider rolled his eyes and Lo’ak could only send you a small salute with the widest grin on his face. You rolled your eyes before meeting those of your closest friend. Kiri’s arms were hidden behind her back and she swayed back and forth on her tiptoes. 
Your eyes narrowed for a second as Tuk finally pulled back from your embrace, returning to practically bouncing off the walls. She grinned as she stared at her older sister. You tilted your head to the side, “Well you all appear to be in a good mood today.” 
“I guess you could say that,” Kiri replied. 
“Why? What’s going on?”
She finally caved and laughed, “We have something for you actually.” 
“You’re going to love it,” Tuk reassured, her hand finding yours. 
Kiri nodded and following her movements, she extended her hand out to you, clasped shut over something. Ever so slowly she turned her hands and opened them and for a mere second, you felt your breath get caught in your throat. It was a necklace but not just any necklace. One adorned in beads and strings resembling most jewelry that was made and worn by the Omatikaya. This one particularly was made with beads of blue and green, crafted into the most beautiful shapes and patterns. 
“We made it for you!” Tuk announced. 
“Happy birthday, Y/N,” Kiri said. 
Your mouth dropped open for a mere second, heart swelling at the gesture and the excitement that covered both Na’vis’ faces. It took you a few moments to regain yourself but when you did, a large smile formed across your face. “Thank you. You guys are too sweet, but how did you—”
“We asked Norm about it the last time we were here. He gave us a countdown of how many days it was and from there we just kept track,” the older Sully girl explained, gesturing to put the necklace on you. 
You nodded, still slightly at a loss for words, “I really appreciate this. You are too kind to me truly.”
“Shush,” she mumbled, walking behind you to place the necklace on. As she wrapped it around your neck with ease, it was then you peered over at the two boys in the room who had remained quiet. Kiri and Tuk looked at them expectantly and Spider huffed in annoyance. 
“Happy birthday,” he mumbled, barely able to get it out. 
As you met Lo’ak’s gaze, his smile widened. Tuk gestured to you and he shrugged as if remembering that he should probably say something. Reaching forward, he took the cupcake from your desk and examined it for a moment before taking a large bite out of the side of it.  “Happy birthday, Y/N/N. Another year more beautiful than the last.” 
You rolled your eyes, concealing the need to gag as his large golden eyes stared down at you, “Which reminds me, is this finally the year you’re going to ditch this place and come with us?” 
“Lo’ak!” His sister scolded, finally letting the necklace fall loosely against your neck
“What?” He held his hands up, glaring in her direction, “This place is like a cage. And I think a day out with us wouldn’t kill her. She could afford to live a little.” 
Kiri huffed and stepped towards him shoving him slightly, a look that could kill sent his way. “Do you ever shut up? You do realize that you sound like a complete idiot!”
“Yeah whatever, you know it’s worth a shot at least,” he reasoned, looking past her towards you, laying on the extra charm with his next sentence, “I know you want to Y/N. We all do. You always have. I mean look at you. You have that damn piece of the Tree of Voices again. Aren’t you a little bit curious what it actually looks like out there?” 
You sighed as Tuk’s hand remained wrapped around your arm hanging onto every word her older brother said, just hoping deep down that you would say yes. It crossed your mind, and for a moment you considered it but then the face of their mother appeared and the rest of the Omatikaya people. Their reactions to a sky person trespassing against their land. It didn’t matter how much you wanted to or that you always had. What mattered was how those people would feel.
“I think I’ll pass.” 
He groaned, shoulders dropping in disappointment and you couldn’t bare to face Tuk knowing that her expression probably looked the exact same. Shaking his head, he stepped towards you and placed the cupcake down on your desk. A smile appeared again as he reached up and flicked your ear playfully. “You’re insufferable.” 
You matched his expression with ease, the only way you were able to handle him. “Wow, that might be the biggest word you have ever used. I guess I was wrong about the size of that brain of yours. It’s larger than I thought.” 
“One of these days I am going to get you to step out of this fucking lab and that’s a promise.” 
They stayed for a while after that, the normalcy of Lo’ak and Spider teaming up against everyone else ringing in your ears. Tuk was glued to your side for most of that time, touching your arm or flicking a piece of hair out of your face. The two older siblings could only make note of it as you sat switching from joining the conversation and looking through the microscope at the slides of the Tree of Voices. It was luminescent under the microscope and it was hard to look away, even though you had seen it multiple times. They left reluctantly because it was getting dark and if they could’ve stayed longer they would. 
Later that evening, you sat outside of the lab staring out the large glass window fiddling with the necklace around your neck. It was dark and you couldn’t help yourself but stare forward at the forest on the other side of that wall. You knew almost everything that was out there, had studied every part of it but you still felt so disconnected from it all. Lo’ak was right, he would always be right when it came to you and what you wanted. This was no life for a person, locked away within a lab, no potential to ever leave. For the other scientists that stayed they chose this, they wanted this life rather than to return to their dying planet but you, you never chose this. 
“Y/N.” 
You blinked, wiping the tears that threatened to form in your eyes as your other hand gripped tightly to the beads of the necklace. Norm stood in front of you, his hands in his pockets, looking from you to the window. A small frown was etched across his face, knowing that expression on your face far too well as it only had become more persistent the older you got. “Did you need something else?” 
He shook his head and approached you, patting your shoulder with comfort. That alone almost made you want to burst out into tears but you held it together. Silence lingered for a moment, a moment where you could feel the pain that was buried so deep within your chest. His touch fell away and he nodded in the direction of the lab. “We have something we need to show you?” 
You lifted a brow over in his direction in curiosity, “We?” 
A satisfied look appeared on his face and he nodded. “Yes.” 
“So you and Max?” you asked in which he merely shrugged. Your expression hardened for a moment because though those two had been around you your whole life, sometimes their ideas weren’t always the best. You frowned, “What is it?”
“It’s a surprise.” 
Your stare hardened and you sighed, “I hate surprises.” 
“I have a feeling you’ll like this one, come on,” Norm chuckled, that smile of his widening. 
With hesitance, you let your hand fall away from the necklace and you stood, almost reluctant. Dragging your steps, you moved towards the doorway of the lab to follow Norm but a hand held up in your face stopped you. You sighed for a moment when you realized what he was going to make you do. He chuckled and gestured again. “Close your eyes.” 
“I swear to god,” you cursed underneath your breath and he stopped you before you could say anything else. 
“Just do it,” he demanded, a fatherly tone in someway occupying his usual soft kind voice. His frustration was there, which didn’t happen often, but something as small as that made the corners of your mouth quirk up in a small smile. It was no way to live but somehow even with that there were people here that cared about you, that wanted to see you happy. Somehow even in all of it, the loss of your parents, the dealing with Spider’s bullshit, you gained a family. A family of a few scientists that were just in love with this deadly planet as you were. 
Shrugging as a way of acceptance, you obliged, your eyes fluttering to a close. His hand took your arm gently and began to guide you into the lab out of the hallway and you felt inclined to peek which he stopped you from doing multiple times. The nerves were alive in your stomach almost threatening to make you puke. You had hated surprises ever since you were a kid. Many times Spider had tricked you by either throwing hands full of mud in your face or getting you lost at the edge of the forest. After that, you didn’t dare step a foot outside of the lab unless it was to collect samples or admire the forest from afar. Those anxieties somehow remained even when the bully that was the younger boy wasn’t around and you knew you were completely safe. 
You felt your feet stumble slightly on the shift of the room’s floor, revealing that you no longer were in the lab. You groaned, still able to feel his hand wrapped around you securely to prevent you from falling, “This is torture.” 
“You’re being dramatic,” you heard Max’s voice from somewhere behind you, amusement laced within it. Oh god, this wasn’t promising. 
“Well, I should be,” your shoulders dropped as the nerves didn’t cease, “Sometimes when the two of you are together your ideas are not so great.” 
“Hey!” Norm exasperated, feeling offended by your comment. 
You felt him stop though and so did you. You felt your heart jump into your throat as if you were going to be sick. You exhaled deeply as the room fell silent for a mere moment, your anticipation practically killing you though it felt more like dread. He tapped your head lovingly as he glanced around to Max then back towards the “surprise.” 
“Okay,” he took a deep breath and Max nodded in response. They both gazed down at you and then at the thing they had been keeping from you for years, concealing, and working with every piece of information they could. It all led to this moment. “You can open them now.” 
Even as he said that you were skeptical and only clenched your eyelids tighter as the anxiety seemed to fully wrap around your throat at this point. Norm chuckled, “Y/N, you can open your eyes now.” 
“I am scared,” you replied, arms wrapping around yourself as a way of comfort, nails practically digging into your forearms. The two scientists laughed and looked at one another knowingly. 
Max rolled his eyes, “Y/N, open your eyes.”
You exhaled deeply but listened anyway despite your gut telling you otherwise. Your eyes fluttered open, the shining light above your head making you squint for a mere moment to adjust to the brightness. You were in the incubator room, the cold temperature of it creating goosebumps across your arms. You stared forward at the avatar’s tank, Grace’s features the only thing you could focus on. She was still just as she had been since Dr. Augustine had died and the image of a few hours ago passed behind your eyes of Kiri sitting near the incubator memorizing every single line of her mother’s face. She talked to her often, trying to find some conclusion as to how she came to be and the reason she was even here. It brought a whole new meaning to the avatar program when Grace passed away and Kiri was born. More so when Jake Sully became Toruk Makto and fell in love with the Olo’eyktan’s daughter.  
Blinking slightly, you stared forward at the body, confusion forming across your expression. You felt your body relax as Max appeared behind you. His hands found your shoulders and squeezed them lightly. “Happy birthday, kid.” 
As you were about to turn to him, something caught the corner of your eye and suddenly you found a gasp ripping from the base of your throat. The amnio tank that sat just behind Grace’s that had sat empty for all these years were filled with the same blue amniotic fluid that filled hers. Eyes wide, your head whipped towards both Norm and then Max, heart beating a hundred miles a minute. You looked over searching for any slight hint of assurance that Max gives you with a nod. Slowly, you stepped away from him towards the amnio tank with wide eyes and shaky palms. They met the cold glass as an unsteady breath fell from your parted lips. 
An avatar. That was what was floating around within that amnio tank. A large blue frame slightly smaller than Grace’s floating — its own arms wrapped around itself, body twitching every so often as if it was merely sleeping. A form of life, that’s what it was, and it was the most amazing thing you had ever witnessed before. You traced it with your eyes from its slender waist, strong legs, and a long tail with a queue, up to its face. A face that almost brought tears to your eyes as it was entirely familiar; sharp cheekbones, flat nose, arched eyebrows, white spots speckled across its smooth skin. She looked so much like you, you could barely believe it. 
“What the fuck?” you cursed, voice breaking as you peered back at the two men who had always been in your life. “Really? You guys did this for me?”
“Best birthday gift, huh?” Norm smiled. 
You couldn’t help but sniffle and nod, “But how? These take years to…” 
Max nodded along with you and you grinned as your voice trailed off in complete disbelief that they had taken the time to do this, approximately three to five years to do this. But it could have taken much longer with the lack of resources left for them since the war. And somehow they did it all while keeping it a secret. “But how did you know?” 
“We just kind of figured ever since you were six,” Norm answered. “But it become more evident as years went on with the Sully kids always around.” 
“Six?” 
Max laughed, “You don’t remember do you?” 
Your brows furrowed and you shook your head, unable to pull any memories from that far back that would make them think that you needed your own avatar. Crossing his arms over his chest, Max shared a look with Norm before peering over at you in amusement.
“When you were six years old, Miles did something at the time to really piss you off. I don’t quite remember what it was but you grabbed one of the oxygen masks and ran out of here. You said you were leaving and that you were going to move over into the village to live with the Na’vi.” 
“It took us two hours to find you,” Norm added in, “You hadn’t made it far so it wasn’t a big deal, but we found you about a mile into the forest, hidden within a bush of Panopyra staring at the way it glowed. You had no fear back then and ever since then, this has been your life. Studying anything and everything about Pandora and we appreciate all your help all these years.” 
You laughed and smiled but it lessened slightly as you were unable to hold any meaning to the memory they so vividly can recall. It was so long ago and somehow it didn’t exist to you. Max peered over your shoulder at the avatar and cleared his throat suddenly, “We know that you don’t want to spend the rest of your life locked away and staring at a microscope. This might not be able to give you much but it at least gives you a little wiggle room. It’ll get you out of this building.” 
Glancing from the two of them back to the avatar, you found your fingers tracing the glass with ease as for the first time in years, you remembered what it was like to be excited about something. To look forward to something. Wiping at your eyes, you felt your throat closing up trying to keep the sudden emotion at bay. You sent a smile to both of them, unable to express everything you felt at that moment.
“Thank you. Both of you. I can’t tell you how much this means to me.” 
“So,” Norm clapped his hands trying to ignite a little more excitement back into the room, “You want to test this thing out tomorrow. Do a little test drive.” 
“Yes,” you grinned, hurriedly, “I would really like that, actually.” 
That night you were unable to sleep, your mind buzzing full of all the possibilities. From touching all of the plants to experiencing the way the forest glowed at night, creating a path of bioluminescence, or being able to interact with some of the animals after years of staring at pictures or video logs left by Dr. Augustine. Even the possibility of interacting with the Omatikaya passed through your mind but instantly you tried to let go of that one. If there was one thing they hated it was sky people, an avatar was just one step up. An alien in a false Na’vi body was not welcome and was far too dangerous to them. You would maybe be able to play with the Sully children in the forest, close by to the camp, but actually go to the village, and see the sites where Home Tree and the Tree of Voices once were would never happen. To ever actually interact with the Omatikaya people, meet the remaining Sully eldest son, or learn about the Na’vi ways directly would never be allowed, so you tried your hardest to forget about it. It wasn’t easy though as that was all you wanted, the ability to interact. 
The next morning, you woke up early, fidgeting and bouncing on the heels of your feet. It was something Norm, Max, or the other scientists hadn’t seen in you in so long. You were usually quiet, kept to yourself, and barely talked to anyone unless asked to. That day you said good morning to everyone, a smile plastered across your face, asking hundreds of questions every moment you could. By breakfast, Norm and Max had already explained all of the protocols, the expectations, and how the link pods worked. Even with all that, it was going to be a long day of testing motor skills, brain function, and everything else with the avatar if the linking process was even successful. It had been years since they powered up the link pods and they only hoped one would at least run without a large amount of money getting put into their building and equipment. 
It was midday by the time you finally laid eyes on the open link pod and climbed inside. Sitting within it, you felt your hand dip into the gel encasing with fascination as Max powered up the pod and got everything ready with the monitor. Cautiously, you laid back suddenly nervous. Nervous that it wouldn’t work but even more nervous that it would. You felt the metal cage get brought down on your body and your head was on a swivel looking around at the room and the small space you would be encased in. 
“You okay?” Max asked, able to see the moment of panic displayed on your face. 
You sent him a smile back though realizing that it was everything you had ever wanted, “Yeah.” 
“Good, just lay back and close your eyes. Let your mind go blank,” he explained, closing the top of the link pod on you, sealing you inside. 
You could hear your breath and the twitch within your fingers as you stared up at the ceiling of the pod, trapped inside. After about a minute, you inhaled and closed your eyes, trying to calm down your racing heart. Before you knew it, it was all over with a flash of light. Your eyes fluttered open and blurred for a mere moment as you were faced with bright luminescent lights beating down on you. For a few seconds, you stared up at them, wondering if it had actually worked but then you were brought back to reality as you heard some bustling from beside you, causing your ears to twitch at how loud and clear it was. 
Head snapping into the direction of the sound, you found Norm standing there in a lab coat with an oxygen mask pulled over his face messing with a monitor. Looking around the small medicalized room before you, you found yourself in a hospital gown and just below that long legs and blue feet hanging off the edge of the medical bed. You gasped and raised your arms up to peer at your hands. They were blue with five fingers. Sitting up quickly, you stared at them in wonder as the sudden movement caught Norm’s attention. 
“Hey, take it easy, okay? We should take things slow,” Norm said, hands raised out towards you as he came to your side. He lifted his hand and did a couple of snaps by the side of your head, satisfied in the way your ears twitched in response. 
“It worked,” you grinned suddenly, looking behind you to find a long braid with the queue and an even longer tail moving around on the bed. 
He returned the look on your face, “Yeah it worked, but we still have a lot to do. Lots of tests to make sure everything is in order.” 
You barely heard what he said as your hands traced over your tail as it moved. Finally looking up, you met the gaze of Max through the large glass window still standing behind a desk and a monitor that looked at your brain function. He smiled and you could only return it. 
It took another fifteen minutes of testing motor skills that consisted of things like touching each finger to your thumb and wiggling your toes before you were allowed to stand and another ten after that before they let you walk around. You were restless by that time, barely able to control your new body that suddenly resembled a baby deer stumbling around, evident in the way you nearly fell every so often and your tail seemed to collide with every single thing around you. After half an hour, you began to get the hang of it, walking around the small space as Norm checked on a few more things with the avatar. It was late in the day by the time they found a spare set of clothes lying around in some old things and you were able to step outside of the lab. 
Dressed in some of Grace’s avatar’s old clothes, you stood in front of the door of the medical room, a new feeling appearing, one that resembled hope. You stepped out with Norm just behind you and instantly the sun that hung low in the sky hit you in the face but not as hard as the breeze that you had never felt on your face before. You took in a deep breath, able to smell the air and have it fill your lungs without a mask strapped onto you. It was a new sense of freedom you had never realized you would appreciate so much. When you opened your eyes, your gaze found the forest just on the other side of the fence and suddenly a new kind of determination appeared. 
“Max, please,” you begged as you entered back into the medical room to ask if they would let you go out into the forest for an hour at most. It was a few hours until it would be dark and you knew you wouldn’t go as far as a few miles. There were weapons you could even take with you but both Norm and Max were reluctant. 
“It’s just the first day, Y/N/N. That’s a lot of stress to put on you and the avatar. Plus, it’s getting late,” he reasoned. 
“It would be for an hour and you know I wouldn’t go too far. Please, I need this. I need to just experience a little bit more,” you said, glancing over to Norm who seemed to be considering your words. “I know about so many things. I would know what to avoid and what would be safe.” 
“She has a point there,” Norm interjected. 
“Yeah, and I know we still have some transmitters lying around. I’ll wear one so we can be in contact the whole time. And if need be I could even take a weapon, something to defend myself, just an hour, please Max.” 
He sighed and that’s when you knew you had him. Glancing down at the link pod that held your human body and then up at you through the glass window, he couldn’t destroy that look in your large golden eyes, that happiness that he hadn’t seen in years.
“Fine. But an hour do you hear me? If it starts to get darker sooner, you get your butt right back here, okay?” 
You jumped up and down, tail wagging from side to side, “Yes, yes of course. Thank you. Thank you.” 
You should have listened to them. You shouldn’t have gotten too ahead of yourself. Somehow there was something about this body, this feeling of control that made you a little crazy. As soon as you stepped into the brush further into the forest, you broke out into a sprint, legs unable to stop their movements as you pushed back tree limbs and wide brush. Within the first fifteen minutes, you happened to go further than the one-mile restriction you had promised them. Instead, you fed them lies over the transmitter and ignored their questions every once in a while, promising that you would be back any minute. You hadn’t run that long or that fast in so long though. Contained in a small building and a patch of land all your life. You didn’t know how long it would last; this freedom, this body, this ability to be quick with even quicker reflexes. Ones you were still trying to get used to at that. You should have listened though. 
It was starting to get dark, slowly, and just as you spoke through the transmitter saying you would be back soon, you felt your heart drop within your stomach. A sound resembled a hiss of some kind just a few feet away behind a set of trees. It was low, rough, and vibrated within your ears. Hidden behind a tree, you peeked around and felt your ears flatten out of fear at the sight of the large Thanator with even bigger teeth, sharp claws digging into the soil of the ground, and ears on high alert. It was the same creature that had once led Jake Sully into the forest where he made contact with the Omatikaya directly. He barely made it out alive and you weren’t looking to find out if you could outrun it just as he had. You held your breath and counted to five before you slowly began to walk deeper into the forest, constantly looking over your shoulder. When you felt like you were far enough, out of earshot, you broke out into a sprint. You were panting, completely out of breath, forehead dripping in sweat as you continued with the pace for almost ten minutes.
However suddenly as you glanced behind you to see if it was there somehow following you, you felt your foot latch onto something, a rock maybe or a log. It sent your body forward, hurling you until you felt yourself collide with the ground. Quickly you began to fall, rolling at a fast rate down a large hill hitting things you couldn’t even see, and before you knew it you had come to a stop. 
Hours later, you were waking up and the daylight was gone leaving you surrounded by the sounds of animals and insects lurking around unseen. You blinked a couple of times wondering if you were back in the link pod and your brain was just playing tricks on you but when you felt an intense amount of pain shoot through your shoulder you knew you were still in the forest and still within your avatar’s body. You couldn’t understand why but it didn’t matter. 
You sat up slowly, noticing a pond lay nearby glowing, filled with lily pads and different flora. Numerous other plants and insects were just as bright; all consisting of either green, purple, pink, or blue. You felt your breath hitch as you scanned the area, wary as you thought about what had you running in the first place. You felt the sting again as you leaned back against the tree you must have collided with and reached up to press your fingers against your shoulder.
When you pulled it back it was stained red. Shaking your head, you reached up to touch the transmitter that had been attached to your ear but felt a wave of panic rush through you as it was no longer there. You looked around the ground but it wasn’t there either. Cursing underneath your breath, the realization dawned on you that you were lost and completely alone. 
It didn’t last long though because as you managed to pull yourself to your feet, a sound emerged from out of the brush a few feet in front of you. First what sounded like hushed voices, but then footsteps moving quietly across the ground. Instantly, your mind jumped to the idea of the Omatikaya and tried to move around the side of the tree to conceal yourself. If they wanted to shoot and kill you at first glance, they could because even if you looked like them you weren’t and that could easily be identified.
You held your breath just as the brush moved to the side and three figures emerged. Two were around the same size as one another and the third was significantly smaller. The first two were Omatikaya just like you originally thought with similar clothing, and belts littered with knives. They were arguing and as their voices sounded somewhat familiar, you glanced over at the third figure; tan skin, long dreads, barely tall enough to reach the Omatikaya’s shoulders. Then you saw the oxygen mask and you realized just then who it was. Spider was the first to notice you as you revealed yourself from around the tree. 
Clutching your shoulder in pain, he got the attention of both Lo’ak and Kiri. Within a matter of seconds, both of their knives were drawn and everyone seemed to be frozen in place, holding their breath. Lo’ak protectively stepped in front of Spider, and Kiri took one step closer to you, ears flat and teeth bared for you to see. A hiss was just on the tip of her tongue as her eyes took you in. It was the clothing that ignited fear in them all because it meant you weren’t Omatikaya and since you resembled them it was a whole new fear they didn’t know they would be encountering so soon. Somehow though as she looked from your clothes up to your features, her expression softened slightly, her eyes appearing less threatening but curious. Then as she noticed your hand clutched tightly around your shoulder, her orbs fell to the bright beaded bracelet around your wrist, and at that the recognition was instant. 
She stood up straight, arms going limp at her sides as her golden eyes widened in shock. She glanced one more time at the bracelet and the lack of fear that seemed to occupy your face. A gasp suddenly was ripped from her throat, dropping her knife to the ground. Quickly she rushed over to you ignoring her brother’s protests. 
“Oh great mother,” she said, voice barely above a whisper as her hands gently took a hold of your arms, eyes examining your face up close. Starting at your nose, then your glowing eyes, they fell down to your tail and long dark flowy hair that went past your shoulders all the way to the five fingers that accompanied your hands. 
Lo’ak kept repeating her name warily with Spider looking on with slight worry but she couldn’t even glance their way as her fingers moved up to trace over your nose in complete awe. A small smile ghosted over her lips, “Really?” 
“Hi,” you whispered, and at the recognition of your voice, she lurched forward and hugged you tightly. 
You hissed slightly under your breath but returned her embrace as best as you could and as the two boys looked at the two of you, the sound of your voice and the familiarity of your features seemed to get their attention. Lo’ak’s ears flickered and suddenly his eyes had gotten just as wide as his sister’s. “What the fuck?” 
The Sully boy cursed and slid his knife back into his belt before closing the gap between where he stood and the two of you. As Kiri released you, he walked around her to get a better look at you, and as soon as your eyes met, the largest smile formed across his lips. He was only a few inches taller than you and for once you got to see him in a whole new way. “No fucking way.” 
His gaze lingered on your eyes and your mouth for a brief second before he circled around you, flicking your tail amusingly. You groaned out of annoyance and pulled your tail back from his touch. His fingers then pressed along your ear to your hair as he continued to walk around you, unable to fully take in that it was really you standing in front of him and in a dream walker’s body. Touch tracing along your arm, he stood in front of you again and instantly took a hold of your wrist. With your hand stuck out, your palm turned upwards, his breath became lodged within his throat as he stared down at it. Stared down at your slightly smaller hands, ones that somehow resembled his more than the rest of the Na’vi. His fingertips then with the lightest touch traced your palm and then your fingers, before sliding them in between yours, holding tightly onto your hand. 
Looking up and over his shoulder at Spider, it seemed that look alone snapped him out of his confused state and he instantly took note of the familiarity of the dream walker in front of him as well as the clothes. “No. No!” 
A furrow formed in between his brows and he glared over at you as Kiri noticed the jealousy right away. It was evident across his face and you all knew it. “They didn’t. They wouldn’t.” 
You were silent, avoiding his eyes because you knew deep down that as much as you wanted this, so did he. He had run away to be with the Omatikaya as much as he could for fucks sake. You knew that automatically would make him feel like he deserved this way more than you ever had. “They gave you your own fucking avatar?” 
His tone was harsh, almost like nails on a chalkboard. It fueled some anger of your own and resentment towards the younger boy enough that your eyes snapped back in his direction, a glare of your own forming. You were smug as you respond with, “Yes. Yes, they did.” 
“They gave you your own avatar and let you run off on your own into the forest. Why can’t I possibly believe that?” 
You became silent again at the second part and broke eye contact away from him. You could still feel his hard stare as it left an unsettling feeling in your stomach. Because that hadn’t been what had happened. You felt Lo’ak squeeze your hand as it was still clutching his. All three of them could see the uneasiness that had spread across your blue face. 
“Wait a second,” Spider stated, breaking the silence, “Norm and Max wouldn’t have let you do that. Let you wander off on your own your very first day with it. There’s no fucking way. You’re inexperienced and they know that you would get yourself killed. Y/N!” 
You stepped forward, feeling Lo’ak pull back on your hand. “Look, I don’t know what happened. I was exploring the forest that is all and it’s not a crime. But then I saw a Thanator and I got scared.” 
“A what?” Kiri asked suddenly. 
“A palulukan,” you corrected, the Na’vi word coming off your tongue effortlessly and both Sully children shared a worried glance with one another at the word. “Then while I was running I must have slipped or fallen or whatever. I lost my transmitter and I just woke up here. It was stupid, I know that, okay?” 
As he took in your words, a self-satisfied grin then appeared on his face, “You realize they won’t let you ever take it out again. I wouldn’t be surprised if they went as far to take it away now.” 
“Spider,” Lo’ak snapped at him, jaw slightly clenched as he finally let go of your hand. 
Worry was evident on your face as that was the last thing you wanted now that you knew what it felt like. Kiri looked over at you and she noticed the way you were chewing on your lower lip staring at the ground. As she took in the rest of you, that's when she saw that you were still gripping your shoulder, blood painted across your fingers and the back of your hand. She stepped forward and released your grip to look at the wound and at the sight, she let out an unapproved sigh. “You’re hurt and it’s deep. We need to get this cleaned up.” 
Your ears perked up at that as she grabbed your arm and began to lead you in the opposite direction of the camp. You stopped though, digging your heels into the ground and pulling her back. “Kiri, wait. Just take me back to the base okay? Norm and Max can help me there.” 
“The village is closer and it’s dark. We couldn’t possibly go all the way back now.” 
“Kiri, please,” you begged, as the thought crossed your mind of entering the village and facing all of the Omatikaya, your appearance giving away that you were nothing but an outsider, someone who didn’t belong. It would be the first dream walker they would have seen in many years and the fear of what could happen appeared in your chest and it was almost suffocating. It worsened as you thought about their mother and what she would possibly do. 
“We’re already past curfew, Kiri,” Lo’ak reminded her, “Mom’s going to have our asses.” 
“Well, we can’t just leave her behind,” Kiri argued.
Spider chuckled, “Yes, we can.” 
All three of you glared over at the boy still fuming with jealousy at the sight of the older girl who happened to get an avatar before him. It was evident in the way he spoke, though deep down they all knew you wouldn’t survive out there all alone. That was why his comment sparked such rage in both of the siblings. 
Kiri’s gaze softened as she met the eyes of her oldest friend again, now gold and light and matching her own. It filled her with a sense of excitement herself to see that you finally resembled them and stepped foot off the camp. There were so many more possibilities now that you had this new body. She could finally show you the forest, her village, her life, everything she had been dying to show you for years. The sole obstacle at that moment was her mother. Even with that obstacle though, she knew her father, the Olo’eyktan would let you in and protect you just as he did with Spider, dream walker or not. Because many years ago he used to be one too. Everything would be fine. She was sure of it. The great mother Eywa was sure of it.
“Y/N, you can’t stay out here. Do you understand me? We need to go.” 
“Kiri.” 
“It will be okay. I promise.” 
You nodded after a moment, reluctant at first but began to follow them as Kiri picked up her knife from the ground and began to move swiftly through the forest. Spider pushed past you and caught up to her as Lo’ak waited for you, making sure you were at his side. Your heart was pulsing so loudly, you swore you could hear it in your ears, your anxiety clear through your movements that were less than relaxed or quick. Lo’ak kept sneaking glances at you but you didn’t have it in you to even acknowledge him, too worried to do so. 
After a few moments of walking, Kiri and Spider began to speed up. It was getting hard to keep up with them because the later in the night it got, the faster they all got, their own fear of being scolded and getting a smack down their sole motivator. They leaped over tree limbs and crossed long logs. It felt like you were getting left behind as every few seconds Lo’ak would have to slow down slightly to make sure you didn’t get more than a few feet behind them. He was almost tempted to grab your hand again and drag you along, but he knew better than to do that.
As they dashed through the forest, it led you to believe that you must have been close to the village. As it turned out, it was just across this fallen tree and through the brush. You hurried after them as they balanced across the long log that overlooked a terrain, hundreds of feet down. Your eyes suddenly widened as you watched Kiri and Spider leap across from the edge of the tree’s trunk to the other side landing on the ground with almost grace. Lo’ak followed them and you felt yourself swallow the spit that had gathered in the back of your throat, hands shaking as they seemed to continue into the forest. 
Falling behind, you attempted to make the jump but as you landed on the other side, just near the edge, you felt your foot get caught and slip slightly. You felt your weight shift backwards and your breath got pulled back into your throat, a scream unable to escape. However, just as you felt your body begin to fall, a hand wrapped around your wrist pulled you forward to their body and ultimately steadied you. You looked up to find Lo’ak staring back at you with a smirk plastered across his face. Withholding an eye roll from his confidence, you returned his look with a small smile. 
Running after Kiri and Spider, your legs started to feel weak, almost like they could collapse at any moment. Lo’ak rushed forward towards the front of the group, but just as he rounded the corner near the edge of the brush, you all watched as he collided with a solid frame. It almost knocked him to the ground but the slightly taller person managed to grab his shoulder before he could. The rest of you came to a stop and you watched from behind Kiri the way the other Na’vi’s grip on Lo’ak seemed to tighten as he sent a threatening gaze down at him.
Grabbing onto Kiri’s arm, you looked around her to examine the other Na’vi. He was tall, taller than Lo’ak by a few inches, with broad shoulders, a defined torso paired with a slim waist. His expression was pinched together, serious, almost unfitting for how soft his features were. His bright gold eyes held a sharp glare that made you shift uncomfortably behind Kiri.
Lo’ak didn’t back down though. No instead that smirk returned to his face. “Well if it isn’t daddy’s perfect soldier.”
“Ftang nga! (Stop it!).”  His voice was deep, deeper than you would have expected as he almost growled down at Lo’ak. “Where have you guys been? It’s been dark for hours.”
“I see you’re following up on your orders, brother,” he continued, finding amusement in the way the other Na’vi boy tensed under his words. 
Brother.
Your eyes widened suddenly, grip tightening around Kiri’s arm. She glanced down at you but you didn’t look away from the Na’vi before you. Brother. So this was it, the missing link. Neteyam Te Suli Tsyeyk’itan. The future Olo’eyktan. The great Toruk Makto’s eldest son. The one who seemed completely responsible for the rest of his siblings when his parents weren’t around. The one who would one day be responsible for everyone else within the Omatikaya clan. He would one day hold the entire world on his shoulders and that pressure seemed to already be showing. It didn’t help that he had an asshat of a younger brother who never made him forget it.
The golden child. The perfect soldier. That was how Lo’ak had always described him all these years. Everything that he could have said to actually explain the kind of person Neteyam was wasn’t ever mentioned. No, because it didn’t matter who he was now or had been for his whole life but who he is supposed to become. 
His threatening gaze shifted away from Lo’ak to Kiri and Spider, but it faltered almost instantly as his eyes found you hiding behind his sister, your own stare wide and locked onto him. He was silent as he took you in, expression unreadable to you but almost softer than how he had been looking at his brother previously. His ears flattened slightly behind his head, his glare disappearing completely as he scanned over your face and the very unfamiliar features. His eyes followed yours, the way they glowed intensively in his direction, to the white spots across the bridge of your nose and around your eyes. Your own ears flickered while your lips quirked up into a soft smile, one he couldn’t look away from.
However, the trance he seemed to be in broke as he noticed your clothes and the blood soaking through your shirt on your shoulder. Strange material he hadn’t seen on anyone but the sky people. Your hand was still clutched onto Kiri and that’s when he saw that your hand resembled more of his sister’s, and brother’s, and the human stood in front of him rather than his own. His eyes then snapped back to his younger brother, who hadn’t even moved or faltered under his gaze. 
“What did you do?” 
Lo’ak’s eyes widened and hissed slightly under his breath, “Me? Why do you always assume that I did something?” 
“Because you always do. It’s like your brain is wired to never listen to anyone. You can’t do anything but get into trouble,” Neteyam reasoned, “I mean example A. It’s dark, way past your curfew and here you are Lo’ak, leading the fucking pack.” 
The younger brother’s ears dropped, his stomach turning at the words and the way his older sibling was looking at him — with pure disappointment. Leaning around Kiri, you tried to get a look at Lo’ak’s face and felt your own chest tighten at the sight of it. Eyes wide, almost in complete shock at hearing those words though you knew it hadn’t been the first time. Always he seemed to get himself into trouble and Neteyam always took the blame from their parents and the future Olo’eyktan always held it against Lo’ak. Just as Lo’ak always held it against Neteyam for being the perfect son. 
You watched then as his broken expression disappeared and instead was replaced with anger. He pushed his older brother’s chest but Neteyam didn’t back down. He held his ground like a good future leader would with the weight of the world on his shoulders.
Lo’ak then hissed, “Tsap’alute (sorry), that I’m the fuck up of the family. That I can’t be perfect like you. The perfect soldier.” 
“Stop, calling me that!” 
“Well stop assuming that I did something wrong.” 
Both brothers' voices had reached an all-time high, screaming at one another, faces pinched together and flushed with color. You couldn’t help but look between the two of them just waiting, begging that Spider or Kiri would step in to stop them from saying any more. To break up the hard-set gazes and the need to be at each other’s throats but neither of them did. They just stood there and watched as the two brothers yelled it out. 
“Then what is this Lo’ak?” Neteyam asked turning his head for a split second, letting his eyes meet yours. However, this time his stare wasn’t soft but unwavering of the intensity he had sent to his siblings. “You have a dream walker with you. A dream walker. You know what mom has told us about them. They shouldn’t—” 
“She’s not just a dream walker, Neteyam,” he cut him off, voice letting out a low growl, “It’s Y/N.”
At the name, the eldest son’s ears perked up, his eyes never leaving yours. Proving that the name somehow meant something to him or that he had heard it before which wouldn’t have been unlikely as you had been interacting with his siblings for well over five years. He took you in then, somehow no longer just seeing a dream walker or a false Na’vi body but you, for the first time ever.
Everyone else found themselves looking at you too but you couldn’t look away from Neteyam or the hold he suddenly had on you at that moment. Lo'ak, still not feeling as if he had gotten the last word, continued, his pointer finger digging into his brother’s chest, eyes narrowed.
“And in case you have forgotten—” 
Without looking away from you Neteyam stepped away from Lo’ak ignoring him, and seeming to not have anything else to say but, “Za’u (come)!”
“What?” Kiri asked looking from her older brother to you where his focus still was. “Really?” 
He nodded, annoyance evident in his tone, “Let’s go. It’s already late enough and Mo’at says there is a storm coming.”
As you all continued what was left to the village, he never looked at you again. Instead, he walked in the front, one hand protectively gripping the knife at his waist, on high alert. You trudged along behind them, trying to stay as close to Kiri as possible but you kept getting distracted. It was the way his muscles shifted with each movement and he wasn’t entirely what you had thought him to be. After all these years, you had finally encountered the great Toruk Makto’s eldest son. The one who was working day in and day out to prove to everyone that he could one day be the leader they all hoped he could be. Something you very well knew but him being as attractive as he was seemed to never have been mentioned. 
You felt a small flick to your chest just as you moved through the last remaining brush. Kiri was looking over her shoulder at you, a surprised look across her face, “You’re staring.” 
“I am not.” 
Your voice was a mere whisper but in the quiet forest, it still managed to catch his ears as he turned his head slightly to the side, but after a moment decided against engaging in the girl talk at the back of the group.
Kiri laughed, right in your face, completely amused at the situation, “Hm, and I am sure Neteyam’s back would think otherwise.” 
“Shut up,” you hissed, but the rest of the words that were on your tongue had fallen away just as you stepped out of the long grass. Lights occupied the area, drawing your attention. Lanterns littered across the area that had cleared up significantly, leaving clear-cut grass rather than long ratty weeds. 
Your steps slowed almost in disbelief. You were finally there after all those years. Omatikaya's village. Large trees still filled the area, ones that towered so high they were almost impossible to climb, but among those were huts scattered all across the area, going as far as you could see in the dark. Your ears flickered at the noise, the numerous voices from all around. So many that it had been the first time in your entire life to be in a place inhabited by more than ten people. Blinking in almost awe, you felt Kiri take a hold of your wrist and tug you along.
As you walked through the village, your head was on a constant swivel; couples sat outside their huts staring up towards the sky littered with stars, kids laughing and playing a game resembling tag. A few stopped to peer at the new face in strange clothing but only for a few seconds before they went back to their game. Other families were already tucked into bed, getting rest and preparing for the long night and day ahead of them. 
Just as Neteyam had mentioned as well as Norm and Max, there was a massive storm coming. Rain and thunder were expected, something more monstrous than the ones that typically happened on Earth. It caused a new set of nerves to form because there was no saying when this storm would hit and if you were denied the chance to stay the night, you weren’t sure how you were going to get back or let alone navigate the forest in the dark. You wouldn’t survive.
It was as if Kiri could feel the shift in the air. The way your awestruck expression had melted away into complete fear and worry. She felt it in the way your frame was tense, unable to meet her gaze all of a sudden. As you made your way through the village, from a few feet away you noticed a woman standing in front of a hut, arms crossed over her chest, an expression that in itself could elicit fear. Neytiri. 
She was beautiful, elegant, everything a chief’s daughter was but she was also intensely loyal and protective, more so since becoming a mother and a wife. She had felt and experienced the most pain from the war that had been inflicted on her people, evident in the losses she witnessed. Her hatred towards the sky people only grew after all these years and the sight of her intense stare locked onto her children had you cowering behind her eldest daughter. 
You all stopped before her, Neteyam stepping closer to her to witness the scornful speech he knew would be delivered when she had asked him to run off and locate his brother and sister. Finding you, however, was not expected and even he knew his mother would not take to it lightly having you there. A loud pop of thunder encased your ears, making you jump as she stared daggers down at her youngest son, standing proudly in front of everyone else. 
“Where have you been? You know the rules,” she said, voice stern, “Be back here before dark.” 
Lo’ak held up his hands defensively, “Why are you only looking at me?” 
“Tìfnu (quiet).” 
Rolling his eyes, he groaned noticing the glare his older brother was sending his way, but he closed his mouth quickly as he saw the way his mother was looking at him. It was scary, to say the least, how the anger was evident in her bright eyes.
“What happened? What was it now?”
When her son refused to answer her, she directed her eyes to her daughter, but the motherly look on her face was drained within seconds as she noticed you, hiding behind Kiri, clutching your shoulder, a hand full of blood. She knew within a split second that you weren’t Omatikaya or Na’vi at all. The alien before her stuck out like a sore thumb and though you appeared just as she did, you had tainted blood flowing through your veins. A new look of anger occupied her face as she walked past both Lo’ak and Spider, aiming to get to you. Kiri revealed you to her mother but pressed her arm across your front as if to protect you. Neytiri noticed the small action and hissed, barring her sharp teeth to you. You flinched, almost ready to fall to your knees and pull your legs to your chest, into a ball. 
“She’s hurt. We found her all alone, mother. That’s what happened,” Kiri explained. 
“Skxawng parultsyip (stupid children),” Neytiri’s hands raised up into the air as so many different emotions formed upon her face as she then turned to you, “You need to leave.” 
Her words were directed to you as she continued, “You are not welcome here! Do you understand me?”
“Mom,” Lo’ak pushed by her to stand in front of you, noticing the way your ears flattened and your eyes grew to twice their size, “She’s a friend.” 
“Kehe (no). I don’t care what she is, she must go.”
Both of them now were holding you, trying to keep you from collapsing to the ground as the harshness, the loss of blood, and the worry had made you shift uncontrollably from one foot to the other. Your fear was evident to all of them. For a moment you swore Neteyam’s face had shifted, from a stoic expression to one of almost pity. You felt your heart drop, as if she had stomped on it directly. You knew you would have never been accepted, even if you had looked like them, studied for years to know their language, their ways of life. None of it would matter because to them you would always be one thing: an outsider. One of the sky people. 
“Neytiri!” The sound of a strong voice caught everyone’s attention as a larger frame approached full of dominance and authority. Jake Sully. Toruk Makto. The Olo’eyktan of the Omatikaya. 
It hadn’t been long since you had seen him. A few years at most as he had always visited Norm and Max here and there but not as often as he wished in exchange to appease his wife. After all, he no longer was one of them but Na’vi through and through. He looked from his wife who was still shaking with anger, fangs poking out of her mouth, to you. He took in the rest of the situation. Kiri and Lo’ak both holding onto you. Spider looks on nearby, uncertain of what would happen. Neteyam stared at the ground barely able to look at the girl dressed in clothes that resembled a sky person. Jake saw the blood immediately on your frame, littered across your shirt, and the tired expression that occupied your young face. 
Immediately, he knew. Knew what had happened, who you were, and the entire situation which made his wife act the way she had. He stepped forward until he was right in front of you and for a moment you closed your eyes almost asking, praying that you would wake up in the link pod to find that it all was a dream.
Lo’ak’s arms tightened around you, “It’s Y/N, Dad.” 
Jake inhaled and then let it go as your eyes fluttered open. Peering up at him, you watched as there seemed to be an internal war going on inside of his head. He looked over at his wife and then back to his children intertwined around you. Another clap of thunder seemed to draw him out of his thoughts. Reaching forward, his fingers brushed across your shoulder and you hissed out in pain.
His brows furrowed, the same pitiful look that was across his eldest son’s face seconds ago now occupied his, “You okay?” 
You nodded quickly, unable to fully take in that he was there and talking to you. He returned your action, nodding, a warm look occupying his face. He then shared a look with his two children. “Take her to an extra hut and clean her up there. Alright?” 
A smile formed across Kiri’s face but immediately noticing her mother’s gaze over Jake’s shoulder she let it disappear quickly. She wrapped both of her arms around you and then steered you away with Lo’ak and Spider following behind. She heard her mother’s protests as she walked away. Jake then turned to face his eldest son and the wife that he knew was looking to pick a fight at that moment.
Nodding in the direction the rest of you disappeared, he spoke to Neteyam, “Go.” 
The eldest Sully sighed but listened anyway and began to walk away, his footsteps heavy against the ground. As soon as he was gone, Neytiri stepped towards her husband, a new fire evident in her eyes as her fangs glistened in the moonlight.
“This is not happening. Do you hear me? That thing is not staying here!”
“She’s just a kid,” Jake reasoned. 
“No!” Neytiri met him chest to chest, voice reverberating as she dug deep inside to find the strength to remain calm, “She is a threat in a false body. You know that as much as I do. How are you not worried that there is another one?” 
“Because I used to be one.” 
Jake found himself getting just as angry, suddenly becoming very defensive over you after years of watching you grow up from afar. But all those years he had heard countless things from both Max and Norm as well as his children. You were no sky person, no enemy, looking to attack his family and his people. You were just a young girl who wanted to experience firsthand another life. That’s all. 
At those words, Neytiri’s face softened, memories from years ago filtering through the back of her head like a movie. Jake Sully. A warrior of the jarhead clan. Looking to learn the ways to be able to see. He had sacrificed himself for her people and completely stole her heart in the process. He had proved himself. 
“That was different.” 
“Maybe so, but you need to realize that so is she,” Jake said earnestly, pointing over his shoulder towards the hut where his children resided, “I know you’re worried. Of course, you would be, after everything you have been through. You have been through hell, but so has she.” 
“Jake,” she whispered his name and at that he reached forward both of his hands finding her arms. 
“You are so quick to assume she is like the rest of them. But remember I was like them. When I got here, I was sent on a mission and I thought just as they had. I was careless, misunderstanding, and completely selfish. A complete skxawng, but then I met you. I met the Omatikaya people and you taught me how to see the world in a whole new way. I fell in love with this place and with you.” 
Tears formed in her eyes as she stared at him, every word hitting her in the chest. His eyes never wavered from hers as he continued, “Y/N already sees so much more than I did when I came here. She has spent the majority of her life studying the ways that we live every day. Why do you think you have never seen her? Because she knows more than anyone that what her people did was horrible and unforgivable. She understands what we think of her kind and so she has stayed away. But somehow even with doing that she has caught the attention of our children and she has been so good to them.” 
“They’re protective of her,” she noted, suddenly feeling some guilt over her hostility towards no more than a young woman who was in need of shelter and rest. 
“Yes, and you should be so proud of them. You have taught them to protect the ones they love and they were doing just that.” 
She nodded, a small smile ghosting over her lips. At his words and how right he was. She had taught them so many things and among them to find the good in people and keep it close to them at all costs. Somehow that was you and she couldn’t quite understand it yet.
Closing her eyes for a moment, she took a deep breath before meeting his eyes again, “I don’t know about this, ma Jake.”
One of his hands reached up and cupped her cheek just as soft raindrops began to fall from the sky, soaking into their skin. “I know, but so long ago you gave me a chance to prove myself. To prove that I could belong here. I think she deserves that as well. A chance.” 
A moment of silence passed. Neytiri stared at the ground for a moment repeating his words over and over in her head. Finally, just as the rain got worse, she looked back up at him. Her mind was made up and she reached forward to lean her head toward his. With no other words, she simply nodded. It was barely even a movement but everything that was communicated to him was exactly what he needed to hear.
Jake smiled then and leaned forward kissing her forehead softly, “That’s my girl.” 
Breaking away from one another, Neytiri took Jake’s hand in her own and began to walk towards the hut, all of her children had led you to. Thunder erupted for the third time just as a flash of light crossed the sky gaining their attention for a split second. As they approached the hut, light shined through the doorway. However, their eldest son sat outside just by the door, arms crossed over his chest, eyes set forward looking on to the village and the storm that had just arrived. Jake’s brows furrowed for a moment out of confusion at the sight, noticing how where the rest of his children seemed to be enthralled by you like a moth to a flame it was as if Neteyam wanted nothing to do with you. In fact, that protectiveness or any recognition of feeling didn’t seem evident to him. It was as if he had no interest in you at all. But at the way their son sat, stuck in his thoughts, almost so much so he hadn’t noticed them in front of him at first. 
Neytiri stopped before him and nodded towards the hut, “Za’u (come).”
She entered then with Jake following behind. A few seconds later Neteyam entered behind them, steps faltering slightly as his eyes found yours. You were sitting on the floor, knees towards your chest. Kiri had ripped your shirt, almost entirely off to get access to the long cut. Dirt stuck to your shorts and was also littered across your face, and your long hair was pulled to one side to give more access to the wound. This was the first time he was seeing you with light. Your face now so much brighter, allowed him a moment to stare at your features and take them in, almost like he was going to file them away in his memory. Your eyes were screwed shut, your nose scrunched, and your lips formed into a tight line as you groaned and whimpered at the pain. Your shirt or what was left of it was coated in blood and Neteyam had to refrain from shifting at the sight of the bare skin of your shoulder and part of your chest. Even with the painful expression imprinted across your face, he couldn’t deny his sudden attraction towards you. 
As your eyes opened at the sound of Neytiri clearing her throat, they met him instantly. He tore his away instead of looking over at his younger brother that seemed just as encapsulated by you as he was moments ago. Yours then shifted to Neytiri and Jake who both stood by the doorway soaked from head to toe. Her expression was unreadable and at the sight of her, you leaned back but didn’t look away. Kiri withdrew her hands away from the cut and her incessant cleaning to listen to what her parents, more so what her mother had to say. 
“So you want to learn?” 
The question took you by surprise so much that it took you almost thirty seconds to even respond with all eyes boring down on you. You were unable to form words so you nodded. It seemed she didn’t approve of that though as her eyes narrowed slightly. “Pivlltxe (speak)!” 
“Yes.” Your voice was small, and they all took note of it. You cleared your throat and tried again, “Yes.” 
Neytiri glanced over her shoulder at Neteyam who had been looking at you, but at the sight of his mother peering over at him, his stare dropped to the ground. The corner of her mouth quirked up in slight amusement as she then turned back to you.
“It is decided, my son will teach you our ways. To speak and walk as we do.” 
Both of her sons’ heads shot up, sharing a look with their mother. Lo’ak let out a noise of approval as her words hit him straight in the face, “Really?” 
Neytiri and Jake looked towards their youngest son and it was almost comical how quickly he assumed she was talking about him as if he knew how to teach and express the ways of Eywa and the Na’vi when all he had an interest in doing was creating trouble. Neytiri looked away from him to Neteyam who was staring at his mother expectantly, eyes wide and lips slightly parted. He was waiting for what she had to say.
Her hand gestured to him as she turned back to you, “Neteyam.” 
Your heart stopped for a second or two as your eyes widened slightly. Glancing at each brother, you watched as their reactions unfolded. Lo’ak’s expression dropped, annoyance appearing as he huffed and folded his arms across his chest. The resentment was there for his brother and this was just another prime example he would use to build that up. Neteyam appeared as you did, a deer in headlights in complete shock but then as it set in that he was being given the responsibility to teach a dream walker the way of Eywa, he became spiteful. He stepped towards his mother and lowered his voice as if he was going to protest but she held up her hand silencing him.
“It is decided. You want to be Olo’eyktan someday and if you do this we’ll know you’re ready,” she repeated this time to only him, “You’ll start tomorrow.” 
He let out a sigh, one that expressed he was giving up arguing, and instead glanced over at you to find the shocked look still on your face. Silence occupied the hut again as Neytiri with her expression softer towards you than it ever had been, nodded before stepping out of the hut to go to her own.
Jake directed his voice at you, “Get some rest.” 
Just as he turned to follow his wife though, you spoke up, “Jake.” 
He looked back at you. You smiled, “Thank you.” 
A small wink was sent your way from the man. No other words were exchanged then and you watched as he left, his footsteps fading away. Neteyam still stood in the same spot, gobsmacked by the situation he had gotten put into. You looked at him expectantly and finally, he dared to meet your eyes.
He was irritated and it was evident in the way his shoulders were tense and squared up, his voice resembling anything but warm, “I’ll meet you outside tomorrow morning. Early tomorrow morning.” 
He disappeared out into the night after that and you were left with some ease knowing that it was only Lo’ak, Kiri, and Spider left. Your whole body relaxed and you leaned against Kiri, your head falling upon her shoulder as Lo’ak still stood in the corner fuming at what had just happened.
With a deep breath, you lifted your head to Kiri and then shifted to Lo’ak, “What the fuck just happened?” 
Kiri laughed, filling the room with a little more joy than previously had filled it, “They’re going to let you stay.” 
“Yeah and she chose Neteyam to be the one…” Lo’ak said, his voice trailing off as his expression hardened in spite. 
Kiri rolled her eyes at her brother and his sudden possessiveness over you but then let another laugh slip again as she realized something. You turned to her and her hand reached forward to push a loose piece of hair out of your eyes, her smile the only thing you could focus on.
“Wait until Tuk finds out about all this. Actually, wait until Tuk sees you.” 
That night when you closed your eyes in that empty hut, the lantern blown out to leave you in complete darkness, you stared up out of the opening of the tent for a while, just watching the way the lightning lit up the sky almost with complete amplitude and deliberateness. Thunder rang in your ears while the sound of rain pelted against the side of the only shelter you had. It was dangerously beautiful just as this opportunity was. This opportunity to learn and prove yourself to the Na’vi. It was the eye of a storm, something so enticing and just begging you to walk out into the chaos. But even with all that, you felt the impending problems weighing down on your chest, all the possibilities that could go wrong. 
You thought about it for a while before you fell asleep. When you woke up, you were staring up at a bright flashlight trailing across your eyes and two hands holding your face. You were no longer in the forest with the Omatikaya people, staring helplessly up at the ceiling of a hut but you were back in the camp, in a link pod, in your own body. It was blurry at first and then it all shifted, becoming entirely clear. Your eyes followed the lights as the voices of Max and Norm began to ring in your ears. Norm’s hands were cradling your head trying to get you to sit up in the link pod as Max was shining a flashlight in your eyes as if he had been trying to coax you back for hours. Their voices flooded your system and it felt so foreign at first but only for a second. 
“That’s it, kid,” Norm said, slapping your cheek lightly, “Come on back.” 
You blinked a couple of times and as you did your chest rose and fell from a deep breath as if you were grasping onto the oxygen trying to get in as much as you could. You coughed a couple of times.
Max turned the flashlight off, “That’s it.”
“You okay?” 
You looked over at Norm and nodded almost as if you were unsure of the answer yourself. They helped you sit up with your legs swinging over the edge of the link pod while your hand rubbed your forehead like you were getting rid of a headache. 
“What happened out there?” Max asked, his tone filled with worry, “Is the avatar safe?” 
You cleared your throat, “Yeah. It’s safe.” 
Norm shared a glance with Max, “Well where is it?” 
“It's with the Omatikaya people in the village.”
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urlocalfeiner · 1 year
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two lost souls| neteyam sully
chapter 1 | chapter 2
pairing: neteyam sully x omaticaya! fem! reader
warnings: series! tooth rotting fluff, swearing, childhood bestfriends to lovers
summary: you and neteyam grew up together, attached at the hip since young and that never changed as the two of you grew older. what did change was the fact the two of you began to develop feelings for one another that simple best friends don't hold- two lost souls longing to feel the touch of the other. as everything around you changes when you travel with the sully family to seek refuge in the metkayina clan, you and neteyam's feelings for each other don't- they grow to be unbearable, until everything comes to the surface.
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you were born as eclipse had fallen over pandora, a couple weeks after the birth of the first born child of toruk makto, neteyam sully. you were told you had been a gift from eywa herself. your mother, yotxve had fallen ill during her pregnancy with you. unfortunately, the illness took her. but the clan was determined to save you and they did just that, laying your mothers pregnant body underneath the true of souls and prayed to the great mother- and she answered, baring the great birth of you.
when one life ends, another begins.
your father oza, a fierce warrior who had battled alongside toruk makto during the battle against the sky people. he was one of the lucky na'vi who had managed to survive the great fight- but not without a few scars no doubt. he was the person you looked up to, he was the best father you could have asked for- he cherished you, you were his miracle.
when you were 4 you were by a river along with many other young na'vi in the clan, all playing amongst themselves. you were trying to catch one of the many fish that called the river their home, your eyes trained on one that fell astray from the other fish. watching it carefully about to pounce on it until a boy came splashing in the water were it was making it quickly swim away- you looked up to the boy, he had long braided hair and a large grin on his face. "you scared away the fish!" you yelled at him angrily.
the boy turned to look at the water around him then back up to you. "i don't see any fish." he replied confused as you huffed, your shoulders sagging from dissapointment "that's because you scared it away."
the boy felt bad that he had accidently scared the fish away, you were about to get up and go try and find some other creatures in the river until the boy spoke up, "my name is neteyam, what's yours?"
you looked at the boy who was named neteyam, smiling slightly. "i'm y/n." neteyam grinned widely at the smile on you face.
"i know a good spot to catch some fish, my dad brings me there all the time. here come with me." he grabbed your hand and the two of you rushed down the river to catch some more fish.
that was how your friendship with neteyam sully had began, all because he had scared away the fish you wanted- ever since then you and him were inseparable, bound to the hip. everyone in the clan grew to know of the friendship you two shared, if you were near chances were neteyam sully was somewhere not far behind.
as the two of you grew, so did the feelings you felt for one another. only few picked up on the fact that the two of you didn't look at each other like simple best friends should- neteyam looked at you as if you painted the stars in dark sky itself, as if you were the only na'vi on pandora- and each time you saw him you looked at him like he had just came back from a long trip, like he was the only na'vi on pandora.
yet the two of you were unaware that you both shared the same feelings for each other- not realising both of you felt the exact same thing the other felt. both waiting for the day that comes to confess.
you sat on the wooden floor of the tsahìks hut, preparing to heal the injured from the war party with kiri- awaiting patiently for the raid party to come back. kiri glanced next to her-which that was where you were- and rolled her eyes. "do not worry, y/n. neteyam is fine, i'm sure."
your head snapped up to kiri, narrowing your eyes- becoming a little flustered."i am not just worrying about neteyam, i'm worried about the whole raid party." that wasn't the complete truth, you were mostly worrying about neteyam.
"right," kiri raised her eyebrows, not believing you. "cause you and neteyam aren't completely in love with each other." she said teasingly, knowing that that will make you more flustered.
"i am not in love with neteyam, kiri." it felt so wrong as the words rolled off your tongue.
you and kiri were very close, she was the person you went to when you needed to talk and couldn't go to neteyam. she enjoyed your company as much as you enjoyed hers, often going exploring around pandora admiring it's beauty. she knew you were lying right off your tongue.
you smirked, a thought appearing in your mind. "if you want to talk about being in love," you dragged out the 'e', "let's talk about you and monkey boy."
she snapped her head to you, eyes wide- before narrowing her eyes at you, knowing what you were doing. "ew, i would rather let an ikran eat me whole." before you could say another word to kiri tuk came running in shouting happily.
"they're back! the raid party is back!" you and kiri shot up abou to run to where they have arrived, but a voice interrupted you making you stop.
"y/n, i need you to stay here." mo'at spoke, the tsahík- you were not one to speak back to elders. you nodded, feeling a bit disappointed that you couldn't go see everyone. turning to kiri you spoke.
"you go, i'll stay here." you told her before she rushed off with tuk to see her family arrive back. you turned back to mo'at, who was observing you- you would be lying if you said you didn't feel nervous under her intense gaze. it was as if she was looking into your soul, judging it for itself.
it was only the two of you in her hut- which was filled with herbs and fruits. you had never been alone with the tsahík of the clan before. only talked with her whilst others where also there, you thought she was incedberily wise- she is the tsahík after all. "come help me." mo'at motioned for you to come help her grind some herbs. you nodded, sitting down next to her grabbing a bowl of herbs. except she was not grinding down the herbs, her eyes were still set on you. "my grandson has told me much about you."
you looked up to her, surprised. "which one?" you asked, although you already knew the answer- mo'at also knew that you knew exactly which grandson she was talking about.
she picked up a bowl of herbs, beginning to grind them down- tearing her gaze from you. "you and i know which one." she replied shortly. "you are to be tsahík?" you felt heat rush to your face and ears at mo'ats' question.
you didn't know what to say, "no, i do not think so." she gazed back up at you, narrowing her eyes- but not in a threatening manner, yet again you felt like she was trying to see your soul.
"you like neteyam, no?" mo'at questioned you again. you felt weird, talking to your best friends grandma about him- the best friend in which you had developed feelings for.
"uh- yes, but not like that." she chuckled lightly at your response- which was so obviously far from the truth, she saw how her eldest grandchild talked about you- the glint in his eyes when he did or when someone mentioned your name. she had been observing the two of you for quite some while now, noticing the extra glances the both of you spare to one another when you think no one is watching- when you think the other doesn't notice.
"it is not very wise to not tell the truth to the tsahík, hm?" she grabbed a fruit from beside her, her voice gentle as she spoke. "do not worry child, only eywa will know of what you tell me."
you no longer felt nervous talking to her, your shoulders relaxing as you took a deep breath out. "yes, you are correct." this was the first time you had ever voiced out your feelings for the boy you had grown up with.
she smirked slightly, chopping up the fruit in her hand. "i am always correct, child." she handed you the lush fruit she had cut up, you putting it in the wooden bowl beginning to crush it until it turned into a thick paste. "you will be a good tsahík."
your heart warmed at her compliment, it was one thing for someone to say that- but it was a whole other thing for the tsahík to tell you that. "thank you, that means a lot." you smiled warmly bowing your head slightly to her, which she returned.
you were deep in thought, trying to process everything. mo'at noticed this, "you doubt my words?" she asked.
"no, it is not that." you replied quickly as she gazed at you, telling you to continue. "i do not think neteyam returns my feelings." you gazed down to the wooden floor sadly until you heard a laugh from the woman in front of you making you look back up to her.
mo'at shook her head slightly. "i know my grandson, child." her chuckle died down slowly, "he comes to me, speaking of a woman that has a strong heart and that has taken his own." you listened intently to her words. "he spoke of a mighty warrior, one who holds much love for those around her and will not spare a second thought to help. i doubted my grandsons words, i will not lie." she grinded down the leaves in her bowl. "that is why i chose you to assist me along with kiri."
you had always thought kiri had chosen you to help along with her, but it was all so she could meet the na'vi in which her grandson told her about.
she looked up to you, looking into your eyes. "but, i do not doubt his words anymore." you smiled at her words. she continued to speak, she reached out for your hands taking them in hers as she gazed into your eyes. before another word could be exchanged kiri came bursting through the door, you snapped your neck to her.
"y/n, neteyam has been injured." your eyes went wide in worry, turning back to mo'at who nodded telling you to go.
you stood up quickly about to rush out with kiri before quickly turning back to the tsahík. "thank you." you whispered to her, than ran out of her hut to go to neteyam.
mo'at watched you intently as you left, watching you retreating figure exit the door. "great mother, may you help the two lost souls find one another." she whispered, speaking to the great mother that watched over every being that walked upon her beautiful creation.
you ran alongside kiri to where neteyam was. opening the door to see him sitting down holding his side which was bloodied, grunting in pain from his injury whilst tuk sat next to him- her gaze turning to the door to see who had walked in, eyes widening when she saw you. "y/n!" she grinned ear to ear.
the sound of your name running in neteyam's ears, turning to look at you- smiling slightly at your presence before wincing at his injury once more, almost forgetting he had one in the first place upon your arrival.
"y/n can you heal him, i need to go help grandmother with the other injured." kiri asked you, you nodded- not minding one bit. "thank you, come on tuk."
tuk whined getting up, "i want to stay with neteyam and y/n." she protested as you smiled gently, bending down to her.
"go with kiri, tuk. i will come and find you after and you can tell me all about your little adventure you had today, alright?" you patted her head as she grinned widely once more at your words, nodding excitedly in agreement.
neteyam stared at you talking to tuk, he always knew you were good with children but whenever he saw you talking to his little sister he felt his heart swell- he couldn't help but let his mind drift to wonder what you would be like with his children, he knew you would without a doubt be a wonderful mother.
tuk and kiri excited the hut, leaving the two of you in the small hut. standing up you made your way over to neteyam, meeting his eyes and smiling at him- which he returned immediately, trying to swat away his thoughts before he grew flustered. you sat down in front of him, removing his hand from his wound to observe it.
"you're a skxqwng." you told him as you reached out for a wet cloth, "hello to you too." neteyam replied before sucking in a harsh breath when you applied the wet cloth to the bloodied area.
you dabbed his wound, trying to be as gentle as possible- that is why he always wanted you to patch him up instead of his grandmother or kiri, they were harsh but you were gentle with him. "you cannot always take the blame for lo'ak," you spoke, your eyes trained on his wound- kiri told you about him taking the blame for lo'ak, yet again. "one of these days he will need to take responsibility for his own actions."
neteyam sighed, trying not to hiss from the sting of the cold cloth on his skin. "i know, he is just so reckless sometimes."
"i know that, i grew up with him too." you chuckled slightly, recalling all the times when you were younger that lo'ak had dragged you into one of his crazy ideas- which always ended up with you and him getting scolded by both of your fathers.
"where were you when we arrived back?" he asked curiously, you usually were the first to greet him when he came back- but you were not today and he missed you.
you suddenly remembered the talk you had with mo'at and felt your face burn, thanking eywa he couldn't see your face. "your grandmother wanted me to help her."
neteyam nodded, understanding why you couldn't greet him. you removed the damp cloth from his side, picking a bowl of thick paste that kiri had made. "this might sting a bit." you warned him as you dipped your fingers in the paste, spreading it onto his wound- making him hiss. "sorry." you winced at his own pain.
"it's okay- do not apologise, you did nothing." neteyam said whilst trying to ignore the pain in his side- but he didn't regret following after lo'ak, he didn't regret getting injured because it meant you would heal him- he would do anything to feel your warm touch against his skin, even if it does slightly hurt. "the sky people are getting stronger, our arrows and knives are defenceless against their machinery." you felt a pit form in your stomach at his information, it scared you. you were told of the great battle that your dad had fought in alongside toruk makto, how the sky people had destroyed hometree within mere seconds.
you sighed rubbing the paste into his side, it seeping into his wound. "everything will be okay, nete." oh eywa, neteyam felt as if he could melt to the ground in the ways in which you spoke his name- wondering what it would be like to have you whisper his name in the dark, just the two of your souls together. he hadn't realised how long he had been admiring you until your voice snapped him out of the trance you had unknowingly put him under. "done." you said as you placed a bandage on his side, "go easy for the rest of today, it should be all better when you wake up tomorrow.
"thank you," neteyam looked down to the bandage you had placed, "you are a great healer." he praised you as you looked up and met his eyes.
"that is because i am being trained by the tsahìk." you laughed slightly which made neteyam chuckle as well. you started packing up the supplies you had used on neteyam, his eyes not leaving you as you did so. watching you carefully he thought of how you would be a perfect tsahìk.
he cursed himself mentally, how could he be having thoughts like that of his best friend? the girl who he had been friends with since he was 4- the answer was he shouldn't, but he couldn't help it.
you felt neteyam's gaze on you and turned to him, he coughed slightly realising he had been caught staring at you. "you know you can go now, nete?" you put a lid back onto a bowl, making sure it was sealed tightly.
"yes, but i want to stay." you smiled at his response, "can i not spend time with my best friend?" he teased grinning.
you rolled your eyes playfully, placing the jar on a shelf- finishing packing away everything, turning back to neteyam who was still seated. your eyes gazed up towards his hair which was in long messy braids, that were begging to be rebraided. his hand subconciously flew to his hair when he saw your gaze being held on it. "is there something in my hair?" he asked confused, making you chuckle as you approached him.
you sat down behind him, making him more confused but as your hand made its way to his hair his shoulders relaxed at your gentle touch in his hair- sighing in content as you started to untangle his braids, one by one. "when was the last time you have done your hair?" you asked, unbraiding a braid removing the beads at the ends.
"i don't know, a while?" he replied, melting into your touch.
"i can tell." you chuckled, looking at how he was sitting- it looked uncomfortable. "lay down."
"what?"
you placed your hands either side of his head, pulling his head down into your lap- his eyes widened slightly, not expecting the sudden gesture. but he quickly relaxed, his eyes slowly closing- he felt like he was in heaven, his head in your warm lap, your fingers running through his hair- which sent shivers down his spine. he felt like he could fall asleep right then and there. he had completely forgot about the pain in his side. neteyam usually didn't let his guard down, but as he felt your fingers on his scalp he felt all his worries seep through his finger, dissolving into nothingness. if only you knew that he would do anything for you, you had him wrapped around your finger and you didn't even know it.
you finally had finished undoing all the messy old braids in his hair, sighing happily you admired neteyam's relaxed face. he was so beautiful, you felt like a young na'vi who had just gotten their first clean kill whenever he looked at you with those eyes that were now closed shut. neteyam opened one eye slightly, seeing you were staring down at him he opened his eyes fully, locking your gazes together- he wanted to pull your head down to kiss you. after a couple seconds you felt your face heat up, growing flustered from the intense eye contact- snapping your gaze from his. he smirked, loving how he made you flustered from just staring into your eyes.
you reached down into your bag attached to your hip, pulling out your hand crafted beads you had just made a couple days ago. "you are lucky, i just made these." you handed the small jar of beads that you were going to put in his hair for him to hold as you began working on the first braid. he felt so special whenever he wore beads you had crafted in his hair, he loved walking around na'vi with your beads in his hair- showing off you had done his hair, he didn't need to say one word for others to know you did his hair. every na'vi knew of what your beads looked like and neteyam wore them with pride- rubbing it into all the men in the clan that sought after you that you had chosen to do his hair.
you held your hand out, signaling for him to get out beads so you could secure the braid. he reached into the jar, picking out two for you and placed it into your palm- fingers brushing against it. starting to work on more braids.
you placed out your hand again, waiting to feel the beads drop into it- but it never came, you ripped your gaze from the braid you had just did and onto neteyam's sleeping face, the jar of beads on his chest- rising up and down with his chest as he slept soundly. you chuckled quietly, not wanting to wake him. reaching into the jar that laid on his bare chest, picking up beads for his braided hair. it felt all so right, just him and you with the only sound being the quiet gush of the wind outside of the hut and the occasional voice of a na'vi passing by. you wished to have an entire lifetime of this.
neteyam had lost track of time, his eyes fluttered open slowly- he didn't know when he had drifted off to sleep but he wasn't surprised that he managed to do so. you felt his head shift slightly in your lap, telling you he was finally awake. "he's finally awake!" you joked laughing. neteyam smiled softly, reaching his hand to his hair to see how much you had done but you smacked his hand away before he could. "i'm nearly done."
any other person would have been thankful that one was nearly done with doing their hair, but not neteyam. he wished for you to never be done, he wanted to stay like this until time came to an end.
"done!" you declared, pulling your hands away from his newly done braids- he suddenly missed the contact of your fingers tangled into his hair. he sat up slowly, removing his head from your lap. you missed the warmth of his head on your lap as he sat up- feeling the bare air touch your skin suddenly.
he ran his fingers through his braided hair, looking at his hair that fell in front of him- smiling as he saw your beads scattered across the ends of his braids. he didn't say anything, just continued to stare at the beautiful handcrafted beads.
"do you like it?" you asked, growing worried from his lack of words- not being able to read the expression on his face.
he tore his eyes from his hair to you and smiled, "i love it." you grinned at his words, happy that he liked it. "it's official, you are now my hair braider." you chuckled at his words, not knowing he was being dead serious.
"if that is the case, i will need to start getting things from you for my service." you joked playfully, flicking his forehead with your fingers teasingly.
"i will get you anything." he breathlessly said, admiring your feature that he was sure were crafted by the great mother herself with the utter most delicacy and precision. neteyam was not lying one bit when he told you he would get you anything, he would get you the stars in the night sky if you asked.
you smiled softly, a blush slowly forming on your cheeks. "well, i do need some more materials for more beads- since i used the ones i made on you." you said playfully, earning a light shove from neteyam in response.
"i will get them for you, what do you need?"
your ears perked up slightly at his response, "really?"
he nodded, "what do you need for those beautiful beads of yours." oh this boy was going to be the death of you.
a/n: more chapters coming soon! sorry this one wasn't very good, the next chapters will be more exciting, hope you all enjoyed this. love you all! and my girlie mo'at knows whats up.
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del-thetiredwriter · 1 year
Text
Saintess of Dragons part 1
Part 2
Yandere/dark Targaryens-Velaryons x female modern reader
English is my second language
Gif is not mine
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“My lady, Prince Daemon has informed that he wishes to see you.”
You put the paintbrush on the table at the voice of the maid.
"I understand. Help me get dressed. Do not touch the canvas, place the materials in their usual places, and finally, no one enters my study while I am away.”
As you passed through the corridors of the court , you saw the officials rushing in for the celebrations. It was that time of the year. The day everyone loved but you hated: "Rising Star Celebrations".
A new Star rose in the sky 11 years ago tonight, a Star never seen before, brighter than any other. That night, the dragons roared in unison as if celebrating someone's arrival, and the 'gods' sent a savior, a saint.
That saint was you. When you woke up one night, you found yourself in a bed in the Red keep, surrounded by council members and the royal family. You couldn't believe your ears when they explained their situation to you.
The whole thing was like a terrible joke. You really were in the book 'war and blood' that you read. Of course it sounds like amazing thing that living in your favorite series but actually it wasn’t.
You finally arrive in the room where Daemon is waiting for you.
“You took a long time to come.”
" There's nothing can be done. I'm busy" you said expressionlessly
“You look the same. Like I saw you 11 years ago tonight. You're still the same except for your clothes and that expression on your face. Indeed, as expected from the Saintess sent by the gods, the gods love you so much that they don't let time change you. You never age."
Daemon said, that look in his eyes that you don't like. He was staring at it like a Hunter looks at his prey.
“Are you jealous? Unlike you, I will always remain young and beautiful” You replied.
A laugh broke out from Daemon at your words.
“How are Laena and the girls?” you asked.
"They are good . They arrive in Kingslanding tomorrow. You know Laena is pregnant so she can't come directly on the dragon.”
“Yes,” you whispered.
‘She will die soon. Just like everyone’ you thought.
“Where have you been! You have to get ready for the night,” Rhaenyra said in a sweet angry voice.
“I was with Daemon. ” You said as Rhaenyra combed your hair.
“Daemon? Did he do or say anything strange to you?” Rhaenyra asked.
“Here's the usual Daemon. He didn't say anything very important." You said.
A deep sigh came from Rhaenyra. She looked sadly at your reflection in the mirror. She placed her chin on your shoulder and wrapped her arms around your waist.
"Rhaenyra?"
" You are very beautiful. Tonight is a special night that brought you to us, to me, but sometimes when I look at you, it feels like you will leave me at any moment. It's like you're going back to where you came from."
You didn't know what to say at Rhaenyra's words. She was right, you still wanted to go 'home', but you didn't know how. Living here in this world was exhausting and dangerous. You were afraid to change the future at the slightest mistake. You hated see peoples deaths and misery but order to stay alive and make sure future stays same you had to.
“Sometimes I want to lock you in a place where no one can find you, not even the gods, so you can’t leave me ” Rhaenyra whispered.
"What did you say?" You didn't hear what Rhaenyra said.
" Nothing . Now we have to go ." Said Rhaenyra, and you went to the celebrations together.
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randxmthxughts · 1 year
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Unrequited - Chapter 1 - Tsu'tey x Omatikaya!Reader
prologue (technically you can skip it, but i recommend checking it out for the backstory)
summary: y/n had been in love with tsu'tey since they were kids, watching him get his heart broken over and over, until he became hardened. on one particular night, she offers him intimacy with no expectations in return, which sparks up a complex relationship between them. they grapple with guilt, unrequited love, and newfound intimacy, as y/n and tsu'tey navigate the depths of their feelings for each other
wc: 5.1k
contains: one-sided love, angst, smut, friends with benefits (ig), smut in this chapter!
note: the events take place in correspondence to the first movie, right after the final battle with the sky people
a/n: you guys asked for continuation, so i decided to turn it into series. i don't know how many chapters i'm planning to write but i do have a structure that i'll be following, so we'll figure it out together, as we go. i really hope you enjoy it. nothing else to say, just thank you if you reblog or comment ♡
unrequited masterlist | general masterlist
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The aftermath of the war between the Na'vi and the RDA was a somber and devastating sight to look at. The once peaceful and serene landscape of your home was now just as scarred and disturbed as your own mind. When you looked at the scorched earth underneath, and the sorrowful faces around you, your thoughts involuntarily raced back to Tsu’tey. Guilt consumed you for allowing yourself to care about him at a time like this, for recalling the night you had shared with him in the clearing, when you had offered him a piece of you, expecting nothing in return. And yet, despite Tsu’tey’s cautious words, deeper in your heart there was still a longing for more. 
Tsu’tey made it clear that his heart would always belong solely to Silwanin, his true and only love. And as you watched him suffer through the endless loss and heartache, you came to a painful realization that there would be no place for you in his life. He had become so hardened to reality, that he no longer cared for his own happiness, the duty of protecting his people becoming the only will to live. That night, when he became aware of your feelings for him, he pitied you for choosing to love someone as damaged as he was.
Watching the clan rebuild and heal from the wounds inflicted by the war, you were convinced to follow the same route. Instead of dwelling on the aftermath, you had approached Mo’at to join the other healers, as soon as the clan returned back into the forest. For the first few days, as warriors brought back injured Na’vi, you followed Mo’at, assisting her in treating the wounded. You silently prayed to Eywa that Tsu’tey wouldn’t be among the wounded, or even worse.
It was on the fourth day that you finally saw him. When Tsu’tey stepped into the healing tent, close to midnight, his eyes widened at the sight of you. He clearly did not expect to find you there instead of Mo’at. Your gaze traveled from his face to his left arm, predicting that he had suffered a broken bone. It was wrapped tightly in big dried leaves that mimicked the shape of his muscles and fixed his elbow in a flexed position. Flat pieces of wood were pressed alongside his bones, tied with smaller strings around his skin. Another thicker string supported his arm in the air, going around his neck.
For a moment, the broken arm offered you a momentary distraction from Tsu’tey's piercing gaze, but the knots in your stomach tightened nonetheless. The tension left from that night still lingered uncomfortably between you.
“Y/N,” he cleared his throat, “Is Tsahik out?”
“She is keeping watch over Atwäm tonight, he’s gotten worse,” you answered with a heavy sigh, recalling the said warrior’s severe state. Mo'at had predicted that the end of his suffering was drawing near. “What happened to your arm?”
“Nothing, I got thrown off my ikran and landed on my arm,” Tsu’tey shrugged his shoulders dismissively, “Mo’at told me she’d change my dressing, but I’ll come back when she’s here.”
“No need, I can help,” you said softly, earning his surprised look.
“Do you know how?”
“Yes. Sit.”
Without waiting for his response, you turned your back to Tsu’tey and began carefully selecting the supplies needed for his treatment. Refreshing his cast didn't make you nervous since you had already assisted Mo'at with a similar task just the day before. Moreover, it was surprising that you were able to maintain your composure around him, even though the last time you saw him, you were almost choking on his member. That vulgar image left emptiness inside you.
Tsu’tey hesitated for a moment before slowly lowering himself to the ground, watching you move around with ease, like a fish in the water. He felt a ping of guilt for not knowing this about you, truthfully, he had no idea that you were even interested in healing, let alone that you have been helping out the other healers for the past few days. 
When you returned to him with the supplies, you took a seat beside him, quietly beginning to untie the string holding up his arm. You instructed him to keep it in the same position for you, and Tsu’tey obeyed, trying his best not to move. Your hands worked with precision and care, peeling away the dry leaves, and the flat pieces of wood that you put aside to reuse. You could feel Tsu'tey’s eyes on you the entire time, sensing that he had something to say but was holding back.
“I am sorry that I haven’t spoken to you since the duel,” his voice was hoarse. You shifted uncomfortably, trying your best to concentrate on your work. 
“You don’t have to apologize. There was a battle far more important.”
“Still, I can accept it if you think of me as an unreputable man because of what I did. But I do not wish for you to believe that I avoided you on purpose.”
“I don’t think either of those things about you, Tsu’tey,” you finally looked up at him, “Would you consider me an unreputable woman?”
He shook his head, validating some of the doubts in your head. If anyone found out about the intimacy you shared with another man without mating before Eywa, it could have stumped your chances of mating with anybody else. Of course, bonds were sometimes made and broken by the guidance of the Great Mother, but you did not think about it. Frankly, you weren’t sure if you could give yourself to anyone else but Tsu’tey, even if Eywa had surrounded you with signs. It was something you figured out a long time ago, ever since Tsu’tey had mated with Silwanin and you knew that you didn’t stand a chance, yet your heart still yearned for him. No amount of attention and courting you received made your heart flutter the way it did when his eyes would land on you even for a second. You had gotten used to the idea of either ending up with someone you did not love, or remaining alone and dedicating yourself to your studies.
“I feel like I betrayed you,” he shook his head, unable to express the depth of his guilt. 
“Why?” you frowned in confusion.
“I promised to always protect you when we were kids. And then I took something from you, and you can’t get it back.”
A lump of shame gathered in your throat, making it harder to breathe. Did he really think you were broken now because of what happened between you two?
“I do not regret it,” you lifted your chin up, “I would rather give a part of myself to a man I love, rather than give nothing to anyone.” 
Love. Tsu’tey’s heart clenched at the obvious nature of your feelings for him. He hated himself for not being able to reciprocate your love, for torturing you.
“I gathered the leaves this morning, so your bandage should last longer,” you commented, diverting the conversation.
As you applied the sticky paste, followed by a clump of leaves, you pressed them firmly onto his skin, shaping it like a protective armor. He hummed, trusting your words, as you worked in silence. When you leaned in closer to reach the tie over his neck, his breath ghosted over your skin, and your heart raced in your chest. Tsu’tey’s hand instinctively reached out to support you by your waist, and you cursed inwardly at the rush of sensation that flooded your body.
Despite the awkwardness and discomfort both of you felt, your thoughts still drifted back to the night when you heard him whimper under the touch of your lips. The way his skin shuddered, when you pressed wet kisses against it, feeling just as nervous and excited to hear his satisfied moans. With trembling hands, you quickly tied the string into a tight knot around his arm, before pulling away, desperate to put some distance between you.
“Thank you.”
“You need to come back for a new bandage, once the leaves dry out.”
“Again?” Tsu’tey frowned, clearly dissatisfied with your instructions.
“As many times as it takes until the bone heals fully.”
“I hate this,” he huffed, “It is itchy and uncomfortable. I cannot fight like this.”
“Fight? The battle is over, Tsu’tey,” you rolled your eyes at him, “Eywa must forgive you for your ungratefulness. The worst of your worries is the itch on your skin that you cannot tend to, instead of losing an arm like Tsay'ä.”
Tsu’tey’s eyes narrowed at your remark, recognizing that sassy tone you used to reserve for Neytiri during your playful arguments. You had rarely used it with him, always contained and reserved, whenever he was around. Tsu’tey realized how different you seemed now, no longer a kid who needed his protection. There used to be a time before Silwanin’s death, when he would see you almost every day, given that you were inseparable from Neytiri. He wondered how much he had missed out on in the past few years, since you weren’t hanging around them anymore. He felt a pang of guilt for not noticing you slowly drifting away from your group.
As you gathered to stand up, Tsu’tey reached for your wrist, pulling you to a stop. You peered down at him confused. 
“What?”
“What are you doing tomorrow morning?” he asked with a slight excitement evident in his voice. 
“Resting before Mo'at's ceremony,” you answered, frowning at his sudden interest in your plans.
The past few days had been a whirlwind for the clan. But now, as the work began to taper off, you were preparing for the grieving ceremony. The final battle with the Sky People had been devastating, and many families in the clan had lost their sons and daughters. And while their bodies had already been given to Eywa, Mo’at decided to hold a final ceremony to pray for the lost souls before the Mother Tree.
“Could you help me with something before that?” Tsu’tey asked.
“Sure,” you nodded.
Tsu'tey felt a twinge of surprise at how readily you agreed without asking for a reason. You barely needed one, your heart would follow Tsu’tey wherever he wanted it to. He released your wrist, and quietly slipped out of the tent.
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You walked past the Well of Souls, eyes catching a sight of the softly glowing Mother Tree, where the ceremony would take place later. The aftermath of the battle still lingered in the air, and you struggled to focus on Tsu’tey’s back instead. He walked in front of you, occasionally glancing back to ensure you were keeping up. As he pushed through thick bushes, you heard strange noises from the depths of the rainforest.
“What is that?” you asked, but Tsu’tey only threw a soft smile over his shoulder, like there was nothing to be scared of.
When he came to a stop, you saw it: a big, armored head peeked out from behind the tall bushes. Your heart skipped a beat, as you recognized the creature as a palulukan, piercing through you with its green eyes. You stepped back in fear, as the palulukan revealed itself, coming into your full view. Judging by the size, it was still a youngling, no older than a few days. Still, it was quite large and could easily harm both you and Tsu’tey.
“Don’t be scared, it is still a baby,” Tsu’tey said, holding up his palm. The palulukan cautiously and slowly moved towards him.
“Tsu’tey, do you have a death wish?” you gritted through your teeth, taking a few careful steps back.
“It’s alright, it won’t harm you,” he said calmly. 
He remained unhinged when the palulukan nuzzled its head into his palm. You froze, watching in awe, as Tsu’tey continued petting the animal. The fearsome palulukan became gentler under his touch, tail swishing from side to side. Tsu’tey turned his face to you and chuckled at your expression.
“Come closer, Y/N.”
“Have you lost your mind?” your voice trembled with fear.
It was a rare sight to see a Na’vi man get along with a palulukan. Although you knew of a clan that was skilled at taming the creatures, amongst your own, the Omatikaya, surviving an interaction with a palulukan was considered a blessing from Eywa. 
“You said you would help,” Tsu’tey reminded you, his voice firm.
He lowered his palm and turned to face you, his eyes fixed on yours. The trust he had in the cub was palpable, but your panic continued to rise, eyes jumping between him and the palulukan. 
“Why do you need my help?” you swallowed hard.
“She limps,” Tsu’tey answered, nodding towards the cub.
“We shouldn’t intervene with the laws of Eywa. Where is the mother?” you asked, your voice tinged with concern.
“The mother was probably killed. The cub was all alone when I found it,” Tsu’tey explained, “I felt too ashamed to burden the other healers when they were busy helping our people. So, I tried moving her back to the valley, where she belongs, but like I said, she can’t walk far because of her paw.”
You threw another glance at the palulukan, who seemed to pay you no mind, lazily swishing its tail from side to side. Your mind calmed slightly, feeling a little sorry for the cub. You took a hesitant step forward.
“Something with the back paw. I’m not very helpful with all this,” Tsu’tey gestured to his broken arm.
You took a deep breath, steeling yourself, before approaching the animal. With a steady hand, Tsu’tey petted the cub, coaxing it into a sitting position, so that you felt less intimidated. You prayed to Eywa to keep you safe as you reached for the injured paw, finding a small piece of demon-metal lodged between its toes. You pulled it slightly, causing the palulukan let out a screech. But Tsu’tey somehow managed to calm her down.
“It can’t stay here any longer,” you threw a quick glance at Tsu’tey, pulling the metal piece as quickly and carefully as you could, “It's too close to the Mother Tree, and there is a ceremony soon.”
“Do not worry, I will lure it to the valley,” Tsu’tey replied, still patting the cub on its head.
“Not in that state, you can’t go alone,” you protested, nodding to his injured arm. “I will come with you.”
Tsu’tey let out a low growl of annoyance, partly at your stubbornness and partly at his own injury. He decided to remain silent and watched as you finally removed the metal chip. The palulukan let out another screech, wiggling its paw out of your hands and bringing it to his snout to lick the wound. Tsu’tey stepped back, observing the animal with a small smile, and you found yourself smiling at Tsu’tey.
You could never stop loving him. Even if you tried, Tsu’tey would always find a way back into your heart. Of course, only he would manage to handle a palulukan without getting eaten alive. You shook your head in disbelief of the man in front of you.
The palulukan stood up with a low growl, sniffing your feet before raising its snout toward your face. You froze, afraid that it might attack you for causing it pain, but the creature only studied you briefly with its big green eyes. You slowly extended your hand to the cub, before taking a step towards the valley. To your surprise, the cub climbed up, limping on its paw, and following you as you started to walk. Some time later, along with Tsu’tey, you led it towards the valley, letting it wander off at the outskirts.
︵‿︵‿︵‿︵
As the two of you began your walk back home, you felt a rush of joy spreading through you.
“I thank Eywa for letting me pet a palulukan without getting eaten alive,” you grinned at Tsu’tey.
His ears perked up at your satisfied expression but he pretended to be annoyed with you.
“I wouldn’t have let you near it if there was a chance of getting eaten.”
“But still, Tsu’tey,” you stopped in your tracks, taking his hand in yours, “Eywa has blessed you. You made a friend out of a palulukan. Not many get to say that.”
Tsu’tey looked down at your hands, feeling a ping of excitement at the contact. Since that night in the clearing, he often found himself yearning for your touch and the solace it brought him. And he despised himself for it. 
Tsu’tey mumbled a thanks and squeezed your hand in his, his eyes lingering on yours for longer than necessary. Your heart raced, and something uglier began to spread in the pit of your stomach. You had been consumed by lustful thoughts of him, yet you couldn't admit it to yourself. All you craved was confirmation that he had felt it too.
Like in some sort of trance, you lifted yourself up on your toes, drawn towards Tsu’tey's face. Your hand rested gently on his chest, careful to avoid the bandaged arm. You expected him to pull away, to reject your advances, but instead he watched you with a heated gaze. Tsu’tey knew that it was wrong to give into the temptation, that the aftermath wouldn’t be worth it, but he just needed to taste your lips. 
Scared to your core, you tested the waters first by tentatively nuzzling your nose against his cheek. Tsu’tey released your hand out of his, but instead of pushing you away, he cupped your face roughly, pulling you into a kiss. His hunger to taste you consumed you, and you almost grew dizzy from the intensity of his lips.
As your lips parted, Tsu’tey pulled away, his eyes closed, breathing ragged. You tried to speak, to say something, anything, but your voice caught in your throat. You both stood there, silent, for what felt like an eternity until he spoke.
“I shouldn’t have done that,” he said, his voice low, “I’m sorry.”
“You did nothing wrong, Tsu’tey,” you whispered, staring into his eyes.
He was distraught but his hand was still gently caressing your cheek. In his eyes, you could see an internal struggle: his mind was telling him to stop, but his body was craving more. 
His eyes widened before closing in a relaxing manner when you crashed your lips against his again. You were eager to satisfy your hunger for him, like an annoying itch that needed to be scratched.
Tsu’tey’s hand pulled you close by the nape of your neck, signaling you to keep going. Your stomach turned in a pleasant pain, when he groaned into your mouth. A few sloppy kisses were exchanged before you were pushing him back into a tree.
Tsu'tey couldn't resist you any longer, the passion that had been building up inside him finally erupting as he kissed you with all the desire he had been trying to suppress. His free hand roamed over your body, pulling you into him, not caring about the pain he felt in his injured arm.
But as the intensity of the moment grew, so did the guilt that Tsu'tey felt. He knew that what he was doing was wrong, that he could never give you more than this, no matter how much he wanted to.
“Y/N,” he pulled away, breathless, “I can’t do this to you.”
“It’s okay,” your voice hitched, his pitiful gaze on you, “I’m okay.”
Tsu’tey pursed his lips, his eyes slowly tracing your features. He had never before noticed the intricate pattern of stripes on your forehead, which formed a unique shape right in the center.   He had never paid attention to the way your freckles glowed like stars in the night sky, something he had always loved to admire before drifting off to sleep. And the way your eyes glistened with a threat of tears, as you feared rejection.
“Please,” you pleaded with him, “Don’t pity me.”
He took a deep breath and let it out before slowly leaning into you. Your heart raced, as he nuzzled into your neck, his eyes shutting in surrender. Tsu’tey then pressed a soft kiss to the crook of your neck, hand grazing your back. Your heat felt uncomfortably abandoned under his touch, and you pressed your thighs together, attempting to get some sense of relief. The movement caught Tsu’tey’s attention, and he frowned, pulling away to observe you. But it wasn’t long till you distracted him with another kiss, scared of him changing his mind.
The sharp pain reminded him of his injury the second he tried to reach for you with his left arm. Tsu’tey suddenly realized that despite the lust he felt, he was too weak, too restricted to give in fully. So, when your hands reached for his loincloth, he swatted them away, gently pushing you off. 
“What’s wrong?” you asked softly.
“I want to take care of you,” he admitted, his hand finding its way to your waist. It was his turn to make you feel good.
It was embarrassing how effortlessly Tsu’tey made you forget to breathe. He played a game of cat and mouse with you, giving in one moment and then changing his mind the next. But you desired him so intensely that you simply nodded, letting him turn you around and lower you on the ground. You didn't resist as Tsu’tey settled in behind you, his back pressed against the tree.
“Sit here,” he ordered, pointing to the spot between his legs.
You scooched back quietly, leaning your back against him. Tsu’tey shifted slightly to adjust to his broken arm, before pressing a kiss to your temple. You relaxed, eyes closing, as his fingers gently caressed the skin under your skimpy top, grazing the already hardened nipples. Tsu’tey continued planting kisses to the side of your face, when his hand moved in between your thighs and parted them. He untied your loincloth, exposing your cunt to the cold air. 
“Tsu’tey,” your voice hitched at the anticipation of his next move.
His hand quickly left your thighs, now turning your face to him, so he could press a kiss to your lips. When your mouth opened immediately, welcoming him in, you felt his finger pushed down on your button. Tsu’tey caught your muffled groan into his mouth, and pressed down on you, as you tried to wiggle away from the sensation. A low growl vibrated through him as a warning before he gently glided his fingers over your slit, slowly massaging your folds. His palm brushed over your sensitive bundle of nerves, forcing a low moan out of you. Tsu’tey felt his member harden at the sound, almost in disbelief at how sensitive you were to his touch.
The flat of his palm circled slowly against your clit, rubbing lazily against it. You gasped his name, hips unintentionally bucking up into his touch, seeking a rhythm. But Tsu’tey enjoyed the sounds that you made a little too much to give in right away. His touch left you for a second, as he wetted his fingers and brought them back to your clit, starting to flick it. You groaned and moaned, as he kept going, occasionally switching to his palm to rub against your sensitive spot. 
“More,” you pleaded, choking on your own breathing.
Tsu’tey hummed, not rushing to comply with your request, as his lips found their way to your neck again, trailing wet kisses. His hand continued to tease your clit in tight circles, and you felt him smear around some of your wetness. Your moans grew louder, when Tsu’tey pressed two fingers against your bud and started stroking it from side to side, picking up a rhythm. Shivers ran down your spine, and you whined at the overwhelming feeling in your stomach but before you could give into it, his digits pulled away, teasing you down your slit. 
You were growing impatient, desperately wanting to chase the sensation by squeezing your thighs, but Tsu’tey did not like that. He parted your thighs again, throwing his legs over yours and restricting your movements. He meddled with the idea of punishing you for moving before brushing past your swollen folds and lightly slapping them. You whined at the sudden ache, and Tsu’tey had to stifle a chuckle at your reaction. He felt an urge to slap your heat harder this time, to force a louder yelp. By the sound of your painful cry, he knew he had succeeded, when he raised his hand higher and slapped against your folds with more force. A mixture of pain and pleasure started to blur your vision, as Tsu’tey slapped your heat over and over again, making your body convulse. You were panting heavily, when he stopped, and his finger teased your entrance before slipping in, not giving you time to adjust. Your eyes widened at the sensation, and he pushed it further into your tight walls, all the way to the last knuckle.
“Tsu’tey,” you exhaled in a slight discomfort. You had never felt anything inside you like that.
“”S okay, relax, syulang” he said with a husky voice.
Tsu’tey moved his finger, making you clench around him. But it was too tight, so much that he couldn’t help but groan at the sensation, wondering what it would feel like to have you around his penis instead. He pulled his finger out, palm rubbing against your nub, before slipping it back into your hole and pushing as far as he could. You started to whimper, your walls clamping down on him, as Tsu’tey slowly thrusted his digit in and out of you, accompanied by squelching sounds.
You tried to tell him that it was getting too much but your words came out in a sloppy jumble instead, making no sense. Tsu’tey picked up on a faster rhythm with quick sloppy motions, filling the air around you with a mixture of wet squelching sounds and your panting. He was running short of our breath too, violently thrusting his finger into you a few more times, before pulling it out.
“Please…don’t stop,” you whined at the absence of his touch, buckling back. You pressed your bottom into his crotch, as if pleading him to continue. 
“Don’t-don’t do that, sweetheart,” Tsu’tey breathed out heavily.
You struggled to fight the fuzziness in your mind, as you suddenly felt the need to check on him. You turned to look at him through your hooded lids.
“Did I hurt you?”
Tsu’tey shook his head with a low chuckle. He couldn’t contain his amusement at the fact that you were checking on him. It was an unexpected situation anyway, but even stranger, considering that it happened in the middle of such intimate act. He suddenly felt the need to reward you for your worrying.
As you held his gaze, searching for a sign of pain, Tsu’tey caught your lips with his, hungrily sucking and pulling at your bottom lip. Your mind got clouded with the hotness of his skin, which was exactly how Tsu’tey distracted you again. His hand caressed your thighs and sneaked back to your clit, beginning to draw tight circles around it. He enjoyed the way you bucked your hips up into his touch, chasing that sweet taste of pleasure.
As you buckled up again, Tsu’tey rubbed your swollen bud with a force, then picked up on a steady rhythm. It wasn’t long till you felt the tension building up in your pit again, and you pressed the side of your face into his chest, feeling hot in your cheeks. His fingers were expertly fiddling with your nub, his motions speeding up. Small whimpers were escaping from your mouth, and Tsu’tey couldn’t help but groan at the sight of you nearing your release. His penis was pulsating, as he started rubbing your button more roughly.
“Need you,” you trembled, gripping his thighs with your hand.
Your hips were jerking out of control, chasing that feeling building inside you, your body tensing up, with in a sharp intake of air. The painful tension broke down into a wave of pleasure, spreading from your heat to the knots in your fingers and toes. 
You held your breath, squeezing your eyes shut at the immense sensation. Tsu’tey exhaled behind you, feeling the way you shivered underneath his touch. He rubbed your oversensitive clit again, pushing you over the edge, and you whined, squirming under him. It was too overwhelming, almost painful. You tried to squeeze your thighs, your hole clenching and pulsing around nothing, juice flowing out of it like a nectar.
“Stop, Tsu’tey…stop,” you gasped, as he slowed his motions on your sensitive spot.
Your hand swatted at his, and Tsu’tey chuckled before finally pulling it away. Your chest sank in big heavy pants, and his lips were on you again, hand caressing the soft skin of your tummy, and moving up to your chest. You breathed heavily, when he squeezed your breast in his palm, a satisfied smirk finding a way to your lips. When he kissed the side of your face again, you turned your face to capture his lips. Tsu’tey hummed in satisfaction.
“I need you to-” you pulled away from him, still a little breathless, “I need you to relax too.”
You wiggled your legs from underneath his, and shifted to sit sideways. Before your hands could even reach for the ties of his loincloth, Tsu’tey stopped you.
“Not now,” he shook his head.
“Then when?” you raised your eyebrows, “When you’re healed?”
He chuckled at your desperation. Tsu’tey couldn’t deny or hide his arousal from you but it was amusing to watch you figure out the reason for his rejection.
“Maybe.”
You let out a small sigh, your lips settling into a contented smile. But as you remembered the upcoming ceremony, you quickly rose to your feet, hastily tying your loincloth. Tsu’tey watched you shamelessly, feeling at ease with the knowledge that you now had a piece of him too. Even if it wasn’t going to be permanent. 
“We should head back now to make it in time for the ceremony,” you mumbled, “I promised to help.”
Tsu’tey nodded, standing up too. But there was something different about it when he met your gaze. No words were exchanged as he followed your lead, back into the cove. You couldn’t shake off the feeling that this wasn’t the end yet.
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chapter 2
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