Not a Soldier Yet |Ao'nung x Neteyam|

12. Submission

Neteyam found himself cornered by O'ekvì one evening.

The taller male's knife was pressing against his throat; O'ekvì's eyes were filled with hate. He had completed his punishment and was now back for more. He was not alone, Ulro was with him, nose still bruised, split lip still healing from Neteyam's assault.

"Listen here, tree boy," O'ekvì hissed, leaning into his personal space, warm breath tingling Neteyam's cheek. "Ulro told me what you did to him. It's unacceptable, don't you think? You come here and dare hurt us?"

Ulro nodded behind O'ekvì, fists clenched at his side. Neteyam felt O'ekvì remove his knife and grab his throat, squeezing harshly, cutting off his breath. Neteyam turned his eyes up to the sky, refusing to show weakness. He knew that after his fight with the older of the two boys, there was no chance for mercy. He wondered if it was better to fight back or to accept and take what was done to him.

Neteyam took a shaky breath as O'ekvì dragged the knife down his chest in the same manner Ulro had done before. Something about the pain felt comforting, soothing the raging fire in his mind, silence filling his ears as he zoned out - a choice has been made - Neteyam let O'ekvì push him down, knees buried in the sand. Perhaps he wanted to bleed. To feel something beyond the mental torment that only the ocean could calm.

Neteyam felt a smile taking over his features; O'ekvì's attacks paused, and the Metcayina looked unnerved. He turned to Ulro, brows furrowed.

"Why is he smiling?" He asked, voice hinted with fear.

Ulro shook his head, lips pursed. "He's crazy."

Neteyam chuckled, his voice cut off by a harsh yank to his queue. He said nothing, listening to the two males' hushed voices debating what to do to him. Neteyam's shoulders relaxed. He knew if only he'd screamed, someone would have heard, but it felt like his head underwater. The world around him stilled as Ulro placed his own knife under his chin, tilting his head up. The other male was close, eyes searching for a reaction. The air around them was cold; the only sound disturbing the silence was the water lapping at the shore. Ulro grabbed his cheeks roughly, glaring with so much hate that Neteyam began to wonder if he was the one Ulro hated or of it wad actually himself.

Ulro and O'ekvì were so similar, yet so different. Every time O'ekvì came to torment him, he had an audience. Ulro came alone. O'ekvì liked to put on a show to seem stronger. Ulro's attacks had always been more vicious than the short male's. Neteyam sighed softly, face hurting where Ulro's strong fingers dug into the skin.

It was fine. Everything was alright. Perhaps this was what Eywa planned for him. He must have been paying for the sins of others - maybe it was because of the blood rushing through his veins - demon blood. Neteyam could not remember who he was before came to live with the na'vi of the ocean.

Ulro raised his arm and slammed a fist into Neteyam's cheek, the force of it making Neteyam turn his head to the side. His eyes watered from the pain. He did not move and stayed leaning to the side. Suddenly, all hands let go of him, and the two Metcayina boys sniggered.

"Look, Ulro, he's really crying! What a weak little freak." O'ekvì mocked, walking around Neteyam's hunched form. He stopped to stand behind the Omaticaya and kicked him the back, forcing him to fall forward onto his hands and kneed. O'ekvì grabbed the back of his head and pushed it down until it was pressed into the sand - Neteyam was still on his knees, hips raised higher than his shoulders were.

A shout broke the tense silence. "Hey! What do you think you're doing?"

Neteyam tensed. He knew that voice. He felt his heart drop, wishing to disappear. His tail wrapped around his waist as he was let go, and he stood up slowly.

Ao'nung stood before him, hissing at the retreating boys - Neteyam's tormentors had taken to running away, ears flattened back and terrified at having been caught by the Olo'eyktan's son. Ao'nung looked him over, glaring straight into Neteyam's wide, golden eyes. Neteyam bit the inside of his lip, worrying the skin with his teeth. Ao'nung grabbed him by the arm, disappointment dancing in his eyes. Neteyam felt a lump forming in his throat. The air of the night had never felt so hot. The Olo'eyktan's son began dragging him away - where, Neteyam had no idea, but he did not resist - Ao'nung's touch was much more comforting than Ulro's or O'ekvì's rough handling.

Neteyam had never felt so tired, so lonely and unloved as he did in that moment. Ao'nung turned to face him. He had taken Neteyam to a secluded place. Large plants hid them from sight. There were a million unanswered questions written on Ao'nung's face.

"Why do you let people hurt you?" He asked eventually, still grasping Neteyam's upper arm.

Neteyam tried stepping back, the world spinning around him. His head hurt, and there was a familiar pressure behind his eyes.

"I-" He breathed out, winded by the force of his own emotions crashing down on him. The air around them felt suffocating. Neteyam wanted to run but could not bring himself to move. He bit his lip so hard it bled, a droplet running down his chin.

Ao'nung's gaze softened; he stepped closer to Neteyam and placed a hand against his cheek. "I'm sorry I hurt you when you first came here."

Neteyam's breath hitched, and he turned his head to the side, trying to shake off Ao'nung's touch. The hand fell to the side of his throat before sneaking around to touch the back of his neck, fingertips grazing the base of his tsaheylu so lightly that Neteyam almost did not notice.

Stunned silence fell over them. Aonung stared into Neteyam's shy eyes, smiling sadly. Neteyam had not answered his question, but there was no need for him to; Ao'nung already knew the ananswer.

Ao'nung was silent as he searched for Neteyam's gaze with his own pale blue eyes. "They don't deserve you, forest boy. They don't deserve to touch you, or look at you."

"And you do?" Neteyam sighed. His tail was still wrapped around his own waist protectively.

Ao'nung chuckled, shrugging. "I like to think I do."

Neteyam let out a long breath, feeling his chest fill with a pleasant warmth. "Maybe you do," he said, voice but a mere whisper carried by the wind.