Chapter Text
He observed her from afar.
Not visibly, though. No. Ao’nung was far too proud for that. So he settled in the shallows, fingers loose around the carved spear. Light and easy in his grip, he wouldn’t take much to inflict harm.
His body remained focused, the sturdy wood molded into his hand, knees bent as he aimed the sharp tip at the water. Waves brushed against his calves before slipping away, stirring the sand beneath his feet anew and sending the fish scattering. Ao’nung inhaled slowly. His eyes flashed as they plunged into the depths of the Eastern Sea. No such thing could escape his sight.
He followed the fishes’ escape and the swaying movements of the flora in pretense. His gaze fixed, muscles ready, just enough to launch the spear at any given moment. His body was there, yet his mind drifted; removed from the attention at hand, wandering seamlessly by its own in unison to the subtle movement of his eyes flickering to the right — right to where she was.
She was still crouched at the shoreline, head dipped beneath the surface as she stared at the sand like it held secrets only meant for her.
It was obvious Kiri wasn’t like her brothers from the moment he first saw her. No hunger for sparring. No interest in weapons. She didn’t posture or boast or try to prove herself. She simply…lingered. Silent. Observing.
Not a warrior. Half forest-born.
An outcast.
He disliked being tasked with helping the Sullys adapt. Tsireya took to it easily, patient and gentle as always, teaching them “the ways of the Metkayinas.” He, on the other hand, felt nothing but irritation at the sight of forest people treading their waters.
They were different. Their arms were too thin. Their tails too weak. Just like mother said. Yet, she and father still granted Uturu – refuge for anyone, no matter where they came from.
The warning look father gave him had crushed any protest before it reached his tongue. Ao’nung obeyed, even when it tasted bitter. Defying his father was one thing. Defying the Olo’eyktan of the Metkayina was another entirely.
So he played nice. Or tried to.
He wasn’t like his little sister, naturally warm and bright, eagerly welcoming the Sullys as if they belonged already. If anything, it proved his point. She was made for this sort of thing. He didn’t envy her. Being the Olo’eyktan’s son already came with enough weight. Expectations pressed down like the sea itself. He wanted freedom while he still had it.
Such thoughts allowed a spike of new exasperation. His gaze slid back to the girl, locking onto the back of her head, still oblivious to her surroundings but.
Then, Ao’nung smiled, a twitch in the corner of his lips as a sly chuckle slipped free. He hurled the spear blindly, big splashes drowning his undeniable amusement while the inhabitants of the sea scurried. His feet carried him toward where the spear landed. Blood bloomed in the water, the crimson stream leading him as he trudged through the granular sand to reach for the shaft and pulled it free in one clean motion.
Two gliderfins hung limp from the tip.
It was a good thing Tsireya wasn’t there to stop him. He could already imagine her pushing him back, palm striking his chest as she scolded him for causing any trouble. It was no wonder she was the favorite, the golden child.
Ao’nung twisted the spear between his fingers. A low hum vibrated in the back of his throat, and mischief shaded over his blue eyes.
This would be fun.
The waves pressed against him from strolling any farther, but they served nothing to slow his pace. It was no use for the Metkayina, for his interest resided in the forest girl afar.
After all, everything was easy when motivation came to him. It would be fine. No worries. Just a little fun —
Nothing like hitting two fish with one spear.
“Huh? What’d you say?”
Kiri lifted her head from the water with a confused innocence fluttering across her face, blinking her eyes to the sudden brightness. She hadn’t expected to find a small crowd around her, much less Ao’nung at the center. When she rose from her lying position, unease crept in, replacing the quiet awe she’d felt moments before.
“Are you some kind of freak?” Ao’nung’s tone held no benevolence, rather a deprecative taunt to go alongside his smirk.
One of his friends muttered something behind him, however, Kiri didn’t hear it, not over the laughter that followed. She exhaled, shoulders slumping as she shook her head almost in tired defeat.
“No.”
When she turned to walk in the opposite direction, Ao’nung didn’t hesitate to follow.
He asked in a teasing disbelief, “Are you sure? I mean, you’re not even real Na’vi.” He stepped closer, reaching for her. “Look at these hands.”
Kiri escaped his initial grab, her expression neutral despite the quickened beat of her heart.
“I mean, look at them!”
She wasn’t lucky when she pulled away a second time, only for his swift reflexes to kick in and seize her hand, making her stumble toward him by his intimidating strength.
Ao’nung and his friends laughed once more.
Her yellow eyes flashed up at him, burning with anger and fear. Her hand disappeared entirely in his grasp – small, soft, untouched by scars. For a fleeting moment, Ao’nung wondered how she’d survived the forest at all.
“Hey! Back off, fish lips!”
Lo’ak stormed toward them, fury written plainly across his face. His features, normally juvenile, hardened into a scowl, his stance coiled and ready to pounce at the slightest provocation.
And of course, Ao’nung was more than willing to provide it.
“Ohh,” he drawled, smirk widening, “Another four-fingered freak.”
The younger boy barreled into the group, shoulders colliding with bodies as he forced his way forward, eyes locked on Ao’nung with a single, reckless purpose: punch that cocky smile off Ao’nung’s face and haul his tail ass to the other side of Pandora.
“Watch it,” one of Ao’nung’s friends snapped, grabbing Lo’ak by the arm.
Lo’ak twisted free and shoved back, nearly knocking with another behind him. Hands closed in from all sides. Someone bumped him hard in the ribs. Another blocked his path, chest pressing into his own as the crowd tightened.
“Look at his little baby tail!”
Laughter burst out, sharp and mocking.
“Aw, baby tail!”
A sudden yank snapped him backward, pain flaring as his tail was seized. Lo’ak staggered, feet skidding in the wet sand before he lashed out blindly, jamming his elbow into somebody’s side. Water splashed up around them, churned by flailing limbs and scrambling feet.
“Leave us alone!” Kiri shouted, worry stark in her eyes.
The harassment continued. Until Ao’nung sensed it before he felt it.
A reticent aura hung over the scene behind him. Cold and restrained, Ao’nung barely had time to process the rough hand shoving him backward. The gesture came so fast that his gaze – once fixed on the Sullys’ youngest son – switched to the oldest in a blur.
Neteyam was the rational one: calm, respectful, sensible. A perfect foil to his reckless younger brother, who seemed determined to stir trouble wherever he went. But as the Metkayina gained his wits and recognized their newcomer, a smug, shit-eating grin spread across his face.
This was getting better and better.
An awkward pause settled in the wake of the earlier scuffle, now that the next Omatikaya’s Olo’eyktan — or former Olo’eyktan — had graced them with his presence.
The eldest sons of their respective clans sized each other up, tails flicking. The air grew thick, charged, and suffocating under the late-afternoon sun. Kiri clenched her jaw, biting back words she wasn’t sure she had. Eywa’s pulse thrummed faintly beneath her feet through the warm sand, steadying her, just barely.
Neteyam spoke first, his voice low. “You heard what she said.” He jabbed a finger into Ao’nung’s chest. “Leave them alone.”
It was foreign to hear the underlying darkness in her older brother’s voice. Normally lightspoken, Neyetam and resentment rarely collided, like parallel lines that never crossed.
“Back off.” Neteyam warned. “Now.”
The final jab at his sternum carried no real force, not enough momentum to sway Ao’nung a step back, not even worthy to label it as a threat, though that hadn’t been Neteyam’s goal. The jab was measured, intentional — a warning to stay the fuck away from his siblings. From his sister.
The unspoken promise hung sharp between them: if Ao’nung or his spineless lackeys ever touched Kiri again, he’d make damn sure they never swim with both arms again. He swore it by Eywa.
If Neteyam had been thinking clearly, regret might’ve instantly shot him into guilt. He was an articulate young man who believed in compromise through communication and patience. Violence was something he refused to embrace…unless it involved the safety of his family.
He was no fool. His sister was a wonder. Yet with what great intelligence and empathy she possessed, there came a powerful perception in her awakening as well. Too powerful that sometimes Kiri found herself struggling to control it, let alone comprehend it. She was strong yet delicate, as beautiful inside as she was out.
Because he hadn’t missed the way Ao’nung looked at her.
Ao’nung’s smile stayed fixed, conceited and superior, but his eyes betrayed him for the briefest moment. They flicked past Neteyam – landing on Kiri. A split-second fix. As if she were a puzzle that annoyed him by simply existing in his village, speaking to spirits he couldn’t hear, walking his reefs with forest feet. Then, gone. His smile stiffening into something colder.
Neteyam shifted sideways, slotting himself between his sister and Ao’nung. The Metkayina’s behavior toward her was anything but appropriate, and it sparked a protective worry within the oldest sibling.
It told him all there was to know.