The first time Ao'nung realized he didn't like his mother he was ten. He watched as his little sister cried silently with her left hand tied to her back as she struggled to write correctly with her right one.
He thought it was nonsense, he knew Tsireya was left-handed and their mother knew this as well, but for some reason, she insisted on saying that it was improper, that she should correct such an ugly defect or others would look down on her.
He somehow understood that their mother was harsh on her because she cared, every mother wants only the best for her children, but even if he was aware of this, he could not stop himself from feeling angry every time he would find bruises on his sister's hands.
That he could not find in himself to comprehend. His sister was small, who could hit such a frail child? His heart often hurt whenever their mother would scold Tsireya for the same things she would praise Ao'nung.
If Ao'nung spoke too loud he was praised for his confidence.
If Tsireya even giggled she was reminded that no gentleman would find that pleasant.
If Ao'nung ate a lot his mother encouraged him saying how tall and strong he would grow to be.
If Tsireya so much looked at the cake in the center of the table her mother would scoff and remind her of how her dresses were growing tight on her.
It was a constant back and forth that eventually drew her to become quiet and reserved. Always still, always absent. Too afraid of occupying space. Her smiles were soft and never reached her eyes. She no longer enjoyed the treats and sweets she was so fond of, and often refrained to speak her mind even if Ao'nung encouraged her to do so.
Only knowing how to exist when she was wanted.
His mother had taken his beloved sister to make her into something he couldn't recognize. It was ugly, and he quickly grew to resent her for it.
Once their little brother was born he hopped the attention was drawn to him instead of Tsireya.
Oh, how wrong he was.
Because if Ronal had molded her daughter into the perfect wife, now she needed to make her into the perfect mother.
Ironic.
Ronal's love was sharp. It could cut and burn as it pleased. She was not evil, nor a saint. She was ambitious and often strong-tempered. In the end, she was just a woman, but not all women are meant to be mothers.
"Good morning." Ao'nung watched as Tsireya stood by the window. They were the first ones to arrive at the dining room and as much as he wished to engage in a conversation with her, she seemed too lost in thought to even acknowledge his presence. "What are you looking at?"
"The birds. " Tsireya mumbled, not giving further explanation.
"They are pretty, aren't they?" His soft smile dropped when she only nodded, not taking her eyes away from the window at any moment. There was such a dullness in the way she looked at things like she couldn't truly enjoy them because something was stopping her.
"Sister! Sister! I finished the book you lent me!" A tiny voice stormed through the doors followed by a laughing Rotxo. Iayan raised the book between his hands showing it proudly to his siblings.
"So fast? Did you stay awake longer than you should have just so you could finish it?" She arched a brow and he giggled feeling caught. "No wonder you've been looking so pale lately. You need to have proper sleep." She sighed.
"Can't blame a man for being caught in something he is passionate about." Rotxo quickly went to the little one's rescue.
"Which one was it this time?" Ao'nung tilted his head.
YOU ARE READING
To our little ones || Aonung x Neteyam
Fanfiction"My dearest, Give all my children a kiss, tell them I think about them by day, pray for them by night, and find my best comfort in their affection. I know it seems like a very long time before I see them but remind them, we may all work, so these ha...
