The Great War | Neteyam x Omatikaya!reader

Part 1

War can stain the most beautiful things.

Not only does it burn your home, take away your loved ones, or drain your health, it casts its shadow over every happiness you have, even when you aren't always able to see it. It was naive of you to think that your relationship with Neteyam would be any different, that it would be unaffected by the weight of the war.

Both of you being young and ambitious, you were enlisted by his father to be aerial scouts, a job that was relatively safe but still helpful. You and Neteyam were proud of each other for doing something useful, and you were grateful to have each other in the field.

As time wore on, things got riskier. You would both come back with more cuts and bruises than before, but the time you spent tending to each other's wounds definitely made up for it. In fact, sitting together and applying healing balm to your injuries as you exchanged jokes and stories helped you both forget the dangers waiting beyond the entrance of the village.

The strain had started out subtly. When the two of you were 15, during one of the raids, Lo'ak had convinced Neteyam to join the ground troops in plundering the Sky People's train full of weapons, and in the process, the older Sully boy was injured and had to be rescued by his father, who proceeded to reprimand him as soon as they landed safely in the village. You watched him walk to a healing tent with injuries to both his torso and his pride and ran over to walk with him.

"It's not your fault," you told him as you came up to his side. "Lo'ak was being a skxawng, you should not have gotten in trouble for him." Neteyam sighed in irritation. "Not now, please," he said curtly. He was holding his injured side with his hand, and it seemed to pain him to climb over the higher parts of the cave floor. You lept up to the ledge in front of him, turned around, and offered your hand to help him up. "I am fine," he said and ignored your hand, opting to pull himself up instead and grunting in pain.

You rolled your eyes at him. Normally, he was very rational and composed, but if there was one thing that put him in a bad mood, it was being reprimanded by his father. You knew that the pressure of being the oldest son to Olo'eyktan weighed on him constantly, and the war didn't make anything easier for him. Still, you didn't appreciate his attitude towards you when you did nothing wrong, especially because you weren't quite used to it from him.

Time wore on, and so did the war. Once, when you were about a year older, you had been grazed by a bullet on your side. It was nothing serious, a flesh wound that you could take care of yourself, so you decided not to say anything, but when you all returned, Neteyam noticed. He always noticed.

"What is this?" he asked, moving your arm out of the way to get a better look at the graze that was slowly oozing blood. "Nothing serious," you responded quietly, looking around to make sure he didn't attract any attention to you. Neteyam looked at you with a hard stare. "You were shot," he stated matter-of-factly. "You need to go to my grandmother or Kiri."

You shook your head in protest. "There are others who need their attention more than I do," you explained. "I can take care of this myself." He held his stern gaze, but you knew his rational brain would agree with you that there were more serious injuries for the healers to care for. Letting out an exasperated sigh, he took you by the arm and muttered, "Come on."

You protested weakly before realizing that he was taking you back to his personal tent. Once inside, you sat down as he pulled out some salve and cloth he had stashed away. In the time since the Sky People had returned, you had both become proficient at mending wounds. Without saying anything, he lifted your arm and rested it on his shoulder so that he could begin cleaning your wound unencumbered by it.

Under your hand, you could feel the tension in his shoulder muscles. You studied his face as he worked in silence. At the first touch he made to your graze, you tensed and hissed in pain. "Sorry," he muttered, carefully working to clean it with a damp cloth. "It's fine," you responded in a strained voice. Silence settled over you again as he attended to you.