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exitpursuedbyavulcan · 3 months

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The Silver Dragon Chapter 1

The Bronze Bitch's Daughter

Prince Daemon Targaryen has grown tired of his Lady wife, the “Bronze Bitch” Rhea Royce. But he is not so easily rid of her. She survives not only his brutal attack, but his cruel violation of her. Though she remains broken and weak, she endures just long enough to deliver a child: a girl of silver hair and steely eyes.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x OC (Daemon and Rhea's daughter)

Warnings: Heavily implied rape

Author's Note: Here's the first chapter of my rework of The Silver Dragon! I'm keeping the old versions up, but they will be labeled "archived."

*Important Note* While he's not the villain of the show or book, Daemon is the villain of this story. We are seeing him through the perspectives of people he's hurt in various different ways. As such, he is not as morally gray as you may be used to. If you think this will upset you, don't read. Thank you!

Series Masterlist - Next Chapter

Rhea Royce lay prone on the earth ground of her beloved Vale. But she could feel neither the cold of the stone nor the dampness of the grass and stone as it seeped through her hunting leathers and onto her skin. As the heat of her body met with the chill in the ground, the runes of protection etched into her pauldrons became fogged over – rendered unreadable.

She knew she should hurt. The pain should be unbearable. Yorwyck was a mighty beast, like the Bronze King he was named for. The whole weight of the horse had come down upon her, so there was no doubt he caused her great damage in his fall. She had heard the sharp cracking of her own bones. Yet she felt none of it.

All she could feel was fear.

The cloaked man waited until her steed was out of sight. Rhea was well and truly alone, with only the distant ramparts of Runestone peering from between the hills as witness to whatever would come next.

He approached her slowly, casually, as if he couldn’t hear her desperate whimpers. She knew he just didn’t care. He ran his violet eyes along her body as he approached her head. It was not a gaze of lust. He looked on her with the same disdainful curiosity as one examining a woodland rodent crushed by a cart.

As he stood directly over her, he turned his eyes from her face – he had always avoided looking at the face he found so displeasing. Instead, he turned to her outstretched arm. He took another step, raising his foot above Rhea’s lower arm. The ghost of a wicked smile danced in the corner of his mouth, and he stepped down.

Nothing.

He raised and pressed his foot down again several more times. Not to be sure, but to emphasize to his victim that she was utterly helpless – precisely as he wanted her. Rhea knew the horrors his men had inflicted on the criminals of King’s Landing and the followers of the Crab Feeder. She knew the cruelty he was capable of and of his unparalleled creativity. He had hated her for years. In all that time, he must have imagined countless ways to torture her.

Rhea braced herself for what would come next. At least she would not feel the pain.

But his steps retreated.

All the fear in Rhea’s heart evaporated, swiftly replaced by rage. After these long nine years, this was all he had for her? For nine years, he traveled the whole of the Seven Kingdoms and beyond, slandering her and her family in the courts, then further insulting her with his brazen whoring. She had lost count of how often he had called her “Bronze Bitch” and accused her of ruining his life. She had been anticipating a reckoning from him.

But this?

This was an insult she could not stand.

Rhea knew she would be signing her soul over to the Stranger, but she would not let Daemon Targaryen have the final say.

“I knew you couldn’t finish,” she spat at her retreating husband.

He turned back, looking at her face for the first time. Rage twisted his face, but his eyes were wide with shock. He had not expected that. But she was, after all, his Bronze Bitch.

What he said next had Rhea’s blood running cold as she thanked all the Seven that she would not feel what was to come. “My dear, lady wife,” he said, breath heaving and voice dripping with hateful venom, “perhaps it is time we consummate our union.”

The Lady of Runestone was dying, nine months on from her “accident.”

The people of the Vale were told that it was a miracle from the Seven themselves that she had survived such a devastating fall from her horse. Even more miraculous still, her husband had swooped in on dragonback to rescue her before she succumbed. He had even used his mount, Caraxes ‘the Blood Wyrm,’ to find and dispatch the offending horse. A true Targaryen prince, rescuing his bronze damsel. It was no wonder when her cousin and heir, Gerold, announced to the court that she was with child. They cared little that their Lady’s rescuer had swept flown out of the Vale as swiftly as he had arrived.

Only her cousin, her Maester, and her ladies-in-waiting knew the truth. Maester Kerith had spent countless hours binding the broken bones that could be saved, and those he could not, he promptly removed. When Lady Rhea next sat the Bronze Throne, she made sure her ladies dressed her in her riding leathers rather than a gown that would hide her injuries. She wanted her court to see what she had survived, even if they could not know the truth.

When it became clear that the consequences of what her husband had done extended beyond mere injuries, Maester Kerith offered her moon tea, but she refused. With her health still declining and her body struggling to overcome the trauma she had faced, she knew she would not survive long. But again, she refused to let Daemon have the final word in their hellish marriage. He had insulted her, paralyzed her, and raped her, but she would not let him forget her.

She would leave him with an Heir of Bronze.

The babe was born as the sun rose, though the day remained dark beneath the clouds that so often surrounded Runestone.

Rhea wept for the first time, having felt no pain throughout the birth, when she saw that her daughter had the silver-white hair of her father. She had prayed for months that her child would look just like her, to be a constant reminder of his Bronze Bitch. But the babe was just another silver Targaryen. Her final revenge had failed.

Gerold sat at her side, cradling the girl in his arms, as her mother could not. Then, as the babe began to cry, he held her out so Rhea could see her.

“Cousin, look at her eyes,” he whispered, all too aware of the grim looks on the Maester and Septas’ faces.

Rhea turned her head, lifting her neck as much as her weakening body would allow to try and glimpse her child through her tears. She looked past the white hair at the small but wide eyes that beheld her.

The slate grey eyes of Runestone, the Bronze Kings, and the First Men. Royce eyes.

Rhea smiled. Perhaps her revenge would not be as sharp as she would like, but so long as her daughter remained, Daemon would never forget her. He would always remember that he could not break her.

The Lady of Runestone’s breaths came slower, and though the Septas flurried around her, she paid them no mind. She had known all these months that she would not live to see the look on Daemon’s face when he first met his heir. She knew these were her last moments. But she did not want to spend them afraid. She wanted to spend them with her daughter.

Fitting, she thought, that Daemon’s heir should be a girl. His young niece had usurped his claim to the Iron Throne, and now his claim to Runestone was usurped by his own daughter.

And what a beautiful daughter she was. Rhea’s vision began to blur around the edges, and the voices of the others in the room faded as she beheld the babe. Her eyes were bright, even as she cried softly, and the silver-white of her gently curling hair seemed to bring out a metallic shine in her grey eyes. They complimented each other, as her parents never had.

This girl was not bronze.

“Arianwyn,” Rhea whispered, naming her child as the life, at last, left her broken body. Lady of silver.

It was not Prince Daemon who came to Runestone to receive the child on behalf of the Royal family, but the young Queen Alicent Hightower. She came with the unwelcome news that the child’s father had already remarried. Less than a month after he became a widower. He had departed with his new wife, Laena Velaryon, to Pentos without leaving instruction on the care of his daughter – or even acknowledging her birth.

Alicent, despite her reputation as a fierce supporter of her husband’s family, was more than empathetic to the child’s plight. It seemed to Ser Gerold that the young Queen held a similar opinion to his own regarding Daemon Targaryen. She commiserated with him on the pain the prince had caused his family, especially Rhea and her daughter. It seemed that As long as the prince had vexed the Royce family, he had been equally maddening to his brother.

But what was most shocking to Gerold and the court at Runestone was the offer the Queen brought: to bring the child to King’s Landing and raise her there. Despite her father’s indifference, the child was a Targaryen. It was her right to live amongst her people, to learn the traditions of Old Valyria.

And at the Red Keep, Arianwyn would not be alone. The Queen had three children, each young enough to be peers to their newest Targaryen cousin, and more were anticipated from both Alicent and the recently wed Princess Rhaenyra.

The King had already given his approval, both to the fostering of his niece at the Red Keep and of Gerold serving as regent of Runestone until the girl had come of age. Indeed, all the arrangements were already made. The Queen had even brought a small contingent of attendants for the child, from nursemaids to Dragonkeepers, who carried a great, steaming urn containing a silver dragon egg – supposedly chosen by the Queen’s infant son – to be placed in Arianwyn’s cradle.

Gerold had only one caveat before he agreed to the King’s plan: that Arianwyn would not venture to the capital alone. A handful of attendants from Runestone delegates would be sent with her to educate her on the history and traditions of House Royce. So that even surrounded by Targaryens, she would not forget why her eyes were grey.

Queen Alicent, herself clothed in Hightower green, happily agreed.

After a long journey from the Vale, Lady Arianwyn Targaryen arrived at Red Keep, cradled in the arms of her aunt, Queen Alicent Hightower. As her attendants, including one of her late mother’s most trusted Lady’s Maids, continued on to prepare her rooms, the newest Targaryen was brought into the Great Hall.

A hush fell over the gathered courtiers when the doors to the throne room opened, and they beheld the silver-haired babe. But the chatter that so often filled the capital quickly resumed when they saw the blanket she was swaddled in. A burnished bronze velvet, carefully embroidered with the same ancient Runes that graced the ancestral armor of House Royce.

It was a slight on the Royal House that, in another court, would have undoubtedly caused a scandal. But in this court, where the Queen herself so brazenly wore the colors of her own house rather than her husband’s, it was immediately relegated to petty gossip. So the Lords and Ladies quickly resumed their conversations as the Queen approached the Iron Throne.

“My King, may I present your niece, Lady Arianwyn Targaryen,” Alicent said as she bowed before her husband as best she could with a squirming infant in her arms.

King Viserys’ eyes brightened, and he dismissed the Hand from his side. The King, having lost so many of his own children by his first wife, was always cheered when he had the chance to meet a healthy babe.

“Hello, my dear niece,” he cooed, reaching out to hold her, “what a delight you are!” His arms strained slightly at the weight of the plump child, so he pulled her into his chest. She relaxed into his against him, fussing softly as she reached for his long white hair.

Viserys laughed, running his fingers through her own hair. The exact shade of silver-white that graced nearly every member of his family. Though hers held significantly more curls than any Targaryen he had ever known.

“She is indeed a beauty, cousin.” A familiar voice drew the King’s attention. His cousin, Rhaenys, approached the throne. “It is a comfort to see our families flourishing.”

The King smiled and nodded, allowing his cousin permission to approach. She ascended the steps to the Iron Throne and ran the back of her fingers along the round cheek of her new baby cousin. “It is a shame her father is not here to meet her.”

Viserys heart sank. In his joy at meeting Arianwyn, he had momentarily forgotten the circumstances under which she arrived – without her father. Once again, his brother had shamed not only himself, but his family and the Crown itself. At least the child’s hair had put to rest any rumors that Rhea had been unfaithful.

Suddenly, the sight of the babe made his heart ache. “Alicent,” he called to his wife, “take Arianwyn to her rooms. I am sure she is tired from the journey.” He handed his wife the child and slumped back into the throne, readjusting himself to try and remain comfortable. Then, when Alicent was out of earshot, he again turned to Rhaenys.

“What has my brother done now?” He said, running his gloved hand over his face.

Rhaenys grimaced. “I am loathe to speak against him now, as he has so recently taken my daughter to wife,” she sighed. “But I feel confident in saying that none of us can ever say exactly what your brother is doing, much less predict what he may yet do in the future.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Viserys said, “I just pray that poor girl won’t suffer any more than she already has.”

When she arrived, the Queen’s three children were waiting inside the solar of their cousin’s new rooms. Aegon, now four years old, ran from his nursemaid, cackling as he swerved precariously between the servants attempting to arrange the room. Helaena, approaching her second nameday, stayed in her nurse’s arms, hands clasped tightly around her ears as she took in the unfamiliar space. And Aemond, only a few months older than his new cousin, lay peacefully in his maid’s arms as he watched servants haul numerous sparkling bronze trappings into the rooms.

“Come and meet your new cousin, darlings,” Alicent called to Aegon and the nursemaids bearing her other children, “She’s come a long way to be with us.” The Queen sat on a plush chair near the west windows of the room, gently lowering the babe into her lap.

Aegon reluctantly approached, sneering slightly at the child in his mother’s lap. “She doesn’t look like Daemon.”

Alicent sighed. “Nor did you look like your father when you were so young. Indeed, even now, I wager you look more like me. You have the Hightower nose.” She tweaked the tip of his soft nose – the same as hers - to drive her point home.

“I am a Targaryen prince!” Aegon insisted.

“Of course, my boy. How could any of us forget it with this on your head,” she said, ruffling his unruly mop of white hair.

Aegon grunted, looking back down at the baby. He gently reached out to touch her silver hair, both neater and curlier than his own. “What is her name?”

“Arianwyn.” The Queen responded.

“Ari…” Helaena started, her hands finally coming down from her ears. Alicent nodded for the maid to set her down, and the young girl approached her mother and the babe.

The Queen spoke slowly and carefully as she repeated, “Arianwyn.”

Helaena listened intently, then repeated the name several times, struggling with the pronunciation. “Ah-ree-an-win.”

“That’s it! Very good, my sweet,” the Queen said, placing her hand on her daughter’s shoulder, though the young girl winced at the touch.

Aegon continued fiddling with his cousin’s curls, “It’s a weird name.”

“Her cousin Sir Gerold Royce told me it is of the Old Tongue,” the Queen said, motioning for one of the nursemaids to bring her youngest babe closer, “it has some meaning, though I am afraid I forget what it is.”

Releasing Arianwyn’s hair, Aegon made a noise of quickly waning interest and stepped away, eager to resume his perpetual torment of his nurse. Had she not been holding her young niece, Alicent may have chased after him. But for now, she lifted the child babe to face her own.

“Aemond,” she said softly, “meet Arianwyn.”

As he beheld his bronze-wrapped cousin, he smiled, cooing and reaching a squirming fist toward her. A smile appearing across her own face, Arianwyn reached back toward him.

I'll be starting a new taglist for this, so if you'd like to be on it, please reach out to me or comment on this post.

#aemond #aemond fanfic #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond imagine #prince aemond #aemond x oc #house of the dragon aemond #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd aemond #aemond fic #hotd fanfic #aemond xf!oc #aemond x original female character #aemond x original character #the silver dragon

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pandorafairy · 1 year

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Fire of Souls

Part 3: The Forest

// part 1 // part 2 //

Enemies to Lovers // Tsu'tey x Reader (younger sister of Jake Sully, dreamwalker)

Tsu'tey and reader are hunting a beast to protect the Omatikaya. When Tsu'tey gets hurt, will he let you help him? Will you be able to work together or will your differences keep you apart?

Contains: arguing, angst (ish), hunting, and blood (injuries)

Reader was in the army for a year before getting into some trouble. Then you became a scientist and came to Pandora. (secrets will come out later in the series)

Anything written in italics is spoken in Na'vi

We’ve been riding for hours. The insides of my legs are raw as they cling to the side of my direhorse. Tsu’tey and I haven’t spoken since we left Hometree, which was hours ago. The sky is beginning to darken. Eclipse will be here soon and we haven’t anywhere to stay.

Tsu’tey holds his hand up, dramatically telling me to stop. I nearly roll my eyes as I stop my steed. He’s done this every thirty minutes of our journey. He’ll pause, hop off his horse and search the area for tracks from the beast. I sigh but he ignores me as he probes the area. He has various red and yellow feathers placed along his hair. He crouches down, his strong legs supporting himself as he touches the moist ground.

My stomach growls. It’s growing late and we haven’t eaten. Tsu’tey stands, his eyes drawn together as he stares off into the distance.

“We should stop,” I say, my voice rough from not speaking all day.

Tsu’tey doesn’t look at me but his ears quirk to the side so I know he heard me.

“It’ll be dark soon and we need to eat.”

Tsu’tey grunts before turning around. He doesn’t meet my eye but he grabs a sack of things from the side of his direhorse. I take this as agreement and hop off my steed.

“You hunt,” Tsu’tey says, his voice harsh, leaving no room for debate, “and I’ll take the direhorse to the pond for a drink.”

I nod but Tsu’tey has already grabbed the horses and is walking through the trees, his slim hips swaying as he goes. I hope we find this beast soon. I’m not sure I can take this much silence. I guess when it comes to Tsu’tey and me, silence is better than talking which for us— means arguing. I grab my bow, a parting gift from Neytiri.

The ground shifts beneath my feet as I slip through the trees. I want to find a small animal, one that can easily be shared between us. The forest breathes all around me as plants begin to glow in the evening light. Chitters from various animals fill the air. I inhale deeply, smelling the pine and freshness of the air.

A branch breaks from a few feet ahead. My eyes snap open. A small animal with black skin and no fur, eats a nearby plant. It’s perfect. I slowly crouch down, making sure to be completely silent. I pull back my bow, feeling my shoulder blades crunch before releasing the arrow. It splits through the air and rams into a nearby tree. The animal’s head shots up in shocked betrayal before sprinting off into the forest. Damnit.

I blow out an irritated breath when a familiar voice jolts me. “Great. Tree for dinner.”

Tsu’tey stands behind me, leaning by a nearby tree, his loincloth hanging loosely around his thighs. He tilts his head at me, his usual scowl etched on his face. I roll my eyes at him.

Another animal runs into view, the same kind as before. The animal stops and looks around. I don’t have any time to waste. I lift my bow and shoot again, praying that it meets its mark. It doesn’t. The arrow splits through the air and disappears into the forest. I curse under my breath as Tsu’tey lets out an angry groan.

I stand up, my fingers clenching the bow. I’m not a bad shot. I’m usually good, but something about being here, I don’t know. It feels off. My hands keep shaking and there's a constant pit of nervousness in my stomach.

“I’ll hunt over there,” I mumble and push past Tsu’tey. I don’t want him watching me fail again.

I walk past him, his scent filling my nose. He sticks his arm out and grabs me. Surprise spreads through me as he turns me around. “You’ll never kill anything with that posture,” he says. He yanks my arms up. I force myself to stand in my shooting pose. I lift my elbows and aim the bow. “Argh,” he hisses in distaste before smacking my stomach lightly. I jump at the contact. “Tighten your form,” Tsu’tey says, his eyes not meeting mine as he stands next to me. “You’re too loose. Did Neytiri not teach you anything?”

“She taught me well!” I shove his hands off of me. “I’m just off today.”

Tsu’tey sets his mouth in a hard line as he slowly brings his hands to his side. “I’ll hunt then.” He takes my bow. “I knew bringing a scientist would be useless,” he grumbles.

He turns and walks off before I have a chance to snap at him. I was a warrior once, before this. Ugh, anger coils in me, he’s so… I don’t even know. But it’s annoying. I whip around and head back to our horses.

After a while of petting the direhorses, Tsu’tey appears through the trees, a dead animal over his shoulder. Sweat sheens under his braids. He doesn’t acknowledge me as he begins to make a fire. I keep rubbing my direhorse and try to look busy. The air between us feels tense even though we avoid eye contact. God, I want to find this beast.

Cooked meat fills the air, making my stomach grumble. Tsu’tey is cooking the small animal over a contained fire. The warm light glows on his hard face, making his stern expression somehow tenser. Is he always stressed out?

“What?” He asks bitterly.

“Nothing, just admiring your rotating ability,” I state sarcastically. He looks up at me with an expression that says, are you stupid? I motion to the animal that turns above the flames. “Nice skills.”

Tsu’tey blows out an irritating breath. He peels off the animal and gives me a small part. I grab it eagerly and shove the meat between my lips.

The taste burns in my mouth. It’s awful, dry and full of a shocking flavor I don’t recognize but pray I never taste again. Oh no, keep it together. Don’t, don’t. I can’t help it. I gag. Full-on open-mouth gag. I slam my mouth shut.

Tsu’tey scoffs. I stiffen. He takes another bite before looking at me. “Don’t like it?”

“No,” I say. No point in lying. I take a sip of water, rinsing my mouth.

“Ungrateful sky people,” he mumbles under his breath.

“I speak Na’vi.”

He smirks as he takes another bite. “I know.”

“What’s your problem? I’m trying to help.”

“No,” he says flatly, “you want Pandora. You don’t care about my people. Skypeople take and take. They never give.”

Is he really saying this to me? “I’m risking my life to find this beast for your people.”

Tsu’tey pauses. “Don’t speak to me in Na’vi.”

“Why?”

“It sounds wrong.”

We don’t speak the rest of the night.

~~~

His scream shatters my dream. I bolt upright on the ground, my heart pounding in my chest. My direhorse stirs uneasily and nudges my side.

Where Tsu’tey had slept is empty, just rumbled dirt. The fire from our dinner is out and a loose strand of smoke floats into the air.

“Y/N!” It’s Tsu’tey’s voice, at least I think it’s his voice, it’s hard to tell because of how panicked he sounds. I stumble to my feet and grab my bow before running into the trees, following the sound of his voice.

“Tsu’tey?” I scream. There’s a path of direhorse prints. He must have slipped off during the night— without me. What was he doing?

“I’m here!” Tsu’tey’s voice is weaker this time but I’m closer. I push through an underbrush, a few animals howl above me. The breath is sucked out of me.

“Oh my god,” I say instinctively. Tsu’tey is lying on the ground, his head covered in sweat, his face pale, and his eyes struggling to stay open. There’s a large cut across his chest and blood pours down his blue stomach. I inch closer as if he were a stray cat. “What happened?”

Tsu’tey inhales shakily. “The beast but someone…”

He did not. He did not hunt the beast without me. My mouth splits open in anger, ready to yell vile things at him, when his skin surrounding the cut twitches. I gasp and sink to my knees beside him. The cut is not only bleeding but oozing a strange, dark fluid. His veins surrounding the cut are not blue but turning black, and spreading right towards his heart. All my anger drains out of me. “Poison.”

Tsu’tey shakes his head. “Go back to Hometree.”

I ignore him and reach my hands towards his skin. I think I’ve studied this before… That fluid looks familiar. This is Na’vi poison.

My fingers hoover right above his chest. “Don’t touch me, dreamwalker.”

I scowl. “You’re really going to be rude,” I motion to his wound, “in this condition?”

“I won’t make it back,” Tsu’tey breathes. His pupils fight to stay focused on my face. His hands twitch uncontrollably at his sides. His blood continues to splay down his body but soon enough it will clot, and the poison will spread to his heart. “Take the horses and—” He inhales, trying to take a breath but clearly unable to.

My heart clenches. Something about the sight of Tsu’tey laying in the dirt, his weapon strewn beside him and his face is determined. He’s unafraid of death. I used to want him taken down a notch, but I don’t like this. Fear races through me. The darkness around his cut is fanning out. The sides of my vision blur as I try to remember what that textbook said. I don’t have long.

“Don’t move,” I say to him and jump to my feet. “Don’t speak unless you have to.” I turn and scan the plants around me. “I’ll be back.” I run into the forest, heading straight for the pond.

Tsu’tey didn’t reply. His eyes had fallen shut.

~~~

I don’t remember what I did or how I did it. It was like I was on autopilot. I remembered the textbook, the poison, and the antidote. I gathered what I needed and brewed it together. Even started my own fire. My direhorse stared at me in confusion but I ignored her. I didn’t have time to think about anything other than Tsu’tey and his diminishing breaths.

I gave Tsu’tey the antidote, forced it down his throat since he was unconscious. The skin around his cut was completely black and his chest was rising and falling rapidly. Once the antidote had gone down, I stepped back and waited.

I’ve been waiting for hours now. Eclipse just passed and darkness covers the forest again. I moved our camp to Tsu’tey because the thought of dragging him through the dirt seemed wrong. I lit a fire so we’d be warm. My stomach grumbles but I haven’t dared to leave Tsu’tey to hunt.

His breath is more even now, his chest rising slowly. His cut is still gruesome even after I cleaned it, red and angry against his blue skin. His ears are flat against his skull and his lips are parted softly. Is he dreaming? I wonder what he dreams about.

I grab a stick and poke at the fire. What if the antidote didn’t work? What if he’s stuck in this coma-like state? God, I don’t think the Omtikaya would let me near them ever again. I sink my head into my hands, feeling my braided hair and the perk of my ears. To think a year ago I was on Earth and now I’m here, trying to save a Na’vi.

He inhales sharply. My head snaps towards him. My heart flutters in my chest, suddenly nervous. Why am I nervous?

He fights his eyelids open and his head falls to the side. “Wha—”

“Don’t speak,” I say quickly at the sight of his chapped lips. I grab my water pack from my direhorse before making my way over to him. He watches me the whole time, his stare boring into me. He probably just doesn’t have enough strength to turn his head away.

“Water,” I say and sit beside him, “drink.” He struggles to lift his head, his neck muscle straining. I hesitate. He didn’t want me to touch him… A strangled groan escapes him as he tries to lean towards the water. Ah, screw it. I slip my hands under his neck, feeling his beaded hair flutter against my skin, as I lift his lips to the pack.

His eyes widen slightly but they immediately close the second he sips the water. He gulps it down greedily, his body clearly needing it. After a moment, I bring the water down and softly rest his head against the dirt.

A small frown covers his full lips. I tilt my head to the side. He blinks a few times before saying, “How?”

“I remembered the antidote,” I reply as I secure the water pack, “guess having a scientist around isn’t always useless.”

He grunts and then begins to cough.

“Easy,” I chime, worried at the redness brimming around his eyes as he coughs.

He stops coughing and narrows his eyes at me. “I’m okay.”

“Yes,” I say, slightly annoyed at his rude expression and abrupt shift to English, “thanks to me.”

He grunts again and looks away.

I let out an irritated scoff. “Would it kill you to say thank you?”

He doesn’t respond. He keeps staring off into the forest, his tail twitching beneath him.

“Why did you go without me?” I ask, anger slipping into my voice. “We are supposed to be a team.”

“Skypeople cannot work with Na’vi,” he says flatly.

I resist the urge to slap him. He would be dead if it weren’t for me. I cock my head to the side. “What would have happened if I wasn’t here?” Silence. “And who was it that cut you with poison?”

His jaw tightens. “That’s different.”

My stomach curls at his words. How ungrateful is he? “You know what,” I say as I climb to my feet. “I’m done with your crap.”

I stand and walk towards my direhorse. I’m leaving, I don’t know where but anywhere is better than here. Fury boils in my gut but I refuse to look back at his weak body. Why did I think this could work? He doesn’t trust me. He never will.

“Wait,” he calls after me. I freeze at the sound of his voice.

I turn around but don’t move any closer to him. I cross my arms over my chest and glare at him.

He sighs.“Thank you,” he says. I blink in surprise. I didn’t think he was capable of saying that. He turns his head so his gold eyes stare into me. “Thank you.”

I clear my throat, suddenly uncomfortable. I take an awkward step towards him. “Yea, well… I don’t know how to get back to Hometree so I kinda need you alive.”

A laugh escapes Tsu’tey’s lips. It’s rough from his injury but full of life. All my anger slips away and something sparks in my gut at the sound. Tsu’tey just freaking laughed. I think the sound will echo in my mind for hours.

He stops laughing and his face grows serious. “So you know who uses that poison?”

“It’s a Na’vi poison,” I respond, “we aren’t the only ones hunting this beast, are we?”

Tsu’tey nods his head, his eyes squinting in pain as he does. “And they aren’t kind.”

I resist the urge to say, obviously, as I observe his wound but I say nothing. His braids are spread around his head like a halo as he lays in the dirt and stares at the moons. His direhorse somehow found his way back. Both our steeds sleep peacefully beside each other.

“We need to kill the beast before the other tribe,” Tsu’tey says, his voice stronger than it has been, “for the Omatikaya.”

“We will kill the damn thing and whoever cut you,” I agree.

He watches me for a moment like he’s realizing something that he hadn’t before. I cock an eyebrow at him and he looks away. “What’s for dinner?” he asks.

~~~

“No,” Tsu’tey grumbles as he swats my hands away.

“I need to sleep!” I snap at him.

It’s the middle of the night and the antidote is wearing off. Which means the pain is setting in. I need to clean his cut so that tomorrow, he’ll be good as new. For most people, that would be incentive enough to let me help them– but not Tsu’tey. He refuses to let me help.

“Will you stop being a pain in the ass for two seconds?”

“No,” he replies, his voice thick with sleep.

“I’m gonna kill you,” I threaten.

“Try to,” he states, his voice becoming sharper.

“You have a massive hole in your chest,” I remind him.

“So?”

I pause. His eyes glitter beneath the moons. Even with his wound– I wouldn’t want to fight Tsu'tey.

“Do you want to walk tomorrow or not?” I hiss at him. If I don’t clean this cut, it’ll get infected.

He relaxes. “Fine.”

I roll my eyes to which his mouth turns downward. I pull out a few pieces of cloth and my water pack. Yesterday, I brewed an extra antidote so I could use it to clean him. I mix it into the water and dip the cloth in it.

Tsu’tey is watching me. I can’t make out the expression on his face. His eyes are narrowed but he isn’t wearing his usual frown, and his lips are parted slightly. I lean forward, my fingers gripping the cloth. I hesitate right as my hand hoovers above his skin. Nerves spread through my body. I brush them off and place my hand down.

He flinches slightly at the contact. I slowly place my other hand down, feeling the tauntness of his chest. His skin is smooth beneath my fingertips as I dab my other hand lightly on his cut. The glowing forest illuminates his skin just enough for me to see where his wound is.

I pour more antidote mixture onto the cloth. I lean closer, making sure I get every part of his cut. I spread my fingers across his chest to keep my balance.

He inhales sharply.

“Does it sting?” I ask, suddenly alarmed.

He moves beneath me before going still. “No.”

I’m close to him, much closer than I thought. Now that I’m focused on him talking, I’m practically inches from his face. His amber eyes watch me carefully, his lips twitching slightly. I swallow. His eyes travel from my face, down my arm, and to my hand, where my fingers lay against his hard chest.

His tail flicks from beneath him. “Are you done cleaning?”

It feels like someone’s shaken me. I blink a few times. “Yea.” I clear my throat. “Yes, you’ll be fine.”

I peel my hands away. Cool air hits my body as I climb to my feet. I hadn’t realized how warm he was. He grunts and rolls over.

I settle back into my sleeping spot in the soft grass, on the other side of our camp. He breathes steadily, his figure rising and falling in the distance. I close my eyes but it’s a long time before I’m able to sleep.

~~~

“I found tracks,” Tsu’tey says.

Morning light pierces my eyes as I sit up, shaking off sleep. Rage sparks in my gut when I see Tsu’tey holding his weapon. “You went without me? Again?”

I cross my arms and glare. I ignore the happiness in my heart at seeing him healthy.

He lifts his hands out in front of him. “Just to get breakfast,” he states and motions to the animal slung over his shoulder.“I just happened upon the tracks.” I narrow my eyes on him. He cocks his head to the side, a nearly playful smile tugging on his lips. “I swear. I felt fine and wanted to eat.”

“Okay,” I recede as he begins to light the fire again. “We’ll follow the tracks after breakfast?”

He nods and starts preparing our meal. The cut across his chest is now a thin, angry red line. Not pleasant looking but much better than last night. His face has also regained its color. His long fingers move around the animal, “you must be on the lookout for the other Na’vi.”

My face deadpans. “I will.” Everyone seems to forget that I have a military background…

He grunts as a familiar smell wafts into the air. I squint. Oh, great. It’s the same animal as the other night. The one that tasted absolutely putrid. I nearly gag at the thought of eating that again. I think I’d rather starve. Tsu’tey looks up and his jaw tenses as he sees my expression. I internally groan, steeling myself for another sky people lecture.

He reaches into a pouch on his loincloth, his muscular arms straining beneath him, and pulls out a small bag.

He shakes his head in disbelief, at me or himself, I'm not sure. He tosses me the bag and continues cooking the animal. My eyebrows furrow as I open the cloth baggy.

Six pink fruits stare up at me. My mouth falls open. The first time Tsu’tey and I had met, he’d made fun of me and my stained fingers. How I’d loved these fruits, they’re my favorite food on Pandora. How did he know? Where did he find these?

I open my mouth to say thank you but no words come out. I’m completely shocked.

Tsu’tey glances at me from the corner of his eye. He shrugs at my shocked expression. “You like those, don't you?”

I nod, a small smile slipping onto my face.

He rolls his eyes and returns to his meal. “Don’t smile. I need you to be strong for our hunt.”

Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes. I dip my hand into the bag and take a bite of the fruit. Tsu’tey doesn’t look up at me again as he continues rotating his animal above the fire. His face drawn together in concentration and his limber body hovering above the ground. He’s beautiful.

The thought jolts me. I nearly drop my fruit. I quickly stare at the ground. I did not just think that.

“Eat up,” Tsu’tey says harshly, “we have a long day ahead of us.”

I swallow, forcing all the thoughts of him out of my mind.

PART 4

~~~

Hi beautiful human! Thank you for reading <3

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