Another Chance |Ao'nung x Neteyam|

Chapter 4: Happiness is Simple

Setting her tools aside, Ronal nods in satisfaction. "The child is strong. You are doing well."

Neteyam smiles, watching as her skilled hands poked at his stomach. As his fifth month of a very long pregnancy approached, Neteyam's bump suddenly popped, tugging his hips forward and making him waddle. Ao'nung's hand could still cover the entire swell of it.

Ronal's fingertip pressed against his belly button, which had decided to poke out. "This will go back to normal once you have given birth."

"Okay."

"So tell me, Neteyam," Ronal sits back on her heals, smoothing down the many colourful beads adorning her woven top. "Have you made any friends?"

Neteyam flushes, eyes widening just for a second before he masks his feelings, smiling. "Ao'nung is my friend."

Ronal's lips twitch as she heaves a sigh. "What do you do when he is busy?"

"Chores," Neteyam murmurs tenderly and places a supporting hand on the underside of his stomach, tracing the skin slowly as she kneels in front of the Tsahik. "I've been preparing for the arrival of the child as well."

Ronal nods, ears twitching. "And for fun?"

"Fun?" Neteyam asks, face scrunching as if the word was foreign on his tongue. "I like to practice what Ao'nung teaches me."

Ronal does not let any of her raging emotions bubble to the surface. She's aware Neteyam does not view his current status as someone who deserves to relax, drowning himself in his work, either crafting things or helping out around the village.

She's also very aware that Neteyam avoids making friends on purpose. Ao'nung talks to her, he voices his concerns regarding Neteyam and Ronal feels it is her responsibility as Tsahik to help the omega. Even if he doesn't ask.

She stands, hands on her hips. "Ao'nung cannot teach you for the next few days," she begins lowly, rummaging around. "He is experiencing a rut."

"I should help him." Neteyam is on his feet in the next second, but Ronal holds a hand up to stop him.

Perfectly in tune with nature and the people, she can all but smell that Neteyam doesn't want to subject himself to an alpha's rut. But he is willing to, even without being asked.

"He will be fine. He has gone through all of his ruts alone." She holds her hands out, placing them on either side of Neteyam's bump. "You do not have to be physically involved with him beyond doing your duties."

"How many are expected of me?" Neteyam dares to ask, hoping the answer would not hurt too much.

Ronal purses her lips. "The Metcayina treasure children. There is no set rule for how many you must bring into this world, however, our elders always advise that any heir of the Olo'eyktan as well as the Olo'eyktan himself shall have at least two. One for the role of Tsahik, the other for his successor."

Neteyam visibly cringes, a gesture that Ronal doesn't miss.

"You are displeased."

"No, of course not—"

"Honesty is a valuable trait, Neteyam."

Neteyam swallows thickly, standing perfectly straight in front of his Tsahik. He feels much like a child being scolded. Perhaps he is, except in age.

"Tell me how you feel about this situation." Ronal takes him by the hand and leads him to sit down on folded blankets. "I will not judge."

Except, Neteyam knows she will.

Still, something about her draws him to open up. "I feel used."

"Your body?"

Neteyam nods. "I was not ready. For a child. Neither to be mated. I presented late."

Ronal hums in understanding, a lithe hand moving to rest on his shoulder. "You got hurt. Why?"

Neteyam flushes, understanding her meaning. He worries the skin of his lips with his teeth. "I must have made a mistake—"

She shushes him. "You are not at fault, Neteyam. I'm not asking you to justify your pain. I'm asking that you let me in so that you may grow to feel at home here."

Neteyam lowers his head in submission.

Ronal sees that he is not convinced, so she sighs. "You are my son now, as much as Ao'nung."

Neteyam takes a shuddery breath, wrapping his arms around himself. He curls up and shuts down, so Ronal lets him go, leaning back to give him space.

The days he spends without Ao'nung are days he spends mostly all by himself, or with the ilu he had been taught to ride. Neteyam likes her, she is gentle with and doesn't try to throw him off, understanding that he is expecting.

His father had told him once, that certain languages on Earth, his home star, refer to pregnancy as being in a blessed state. Neteyam thinks it's a cute idea, because children are little blessings sent by Eywa.

Even if he doesn't feel ready to be a parent just yet.

Neteyam stares down at his reflection in the water, turning to the side a little to inspect the growing roundness of his stomach. It still fits in his palms, but it looks a bit funny on his thin frame.

All in all, he thinks he looks pretty.

Then, he promptly flushes at his own thoughts and scurries away from the ocean, returning home, a hand over his wildly beating heart.

But it's true, he tells himself. He does look pretty. His hair seems shinier and his cheeks a little softer. And, admittedly, the new hair accessories he's made for himself compliment the rich, black shades of his hair. Little white shells strung together with a dark brown string.

Ao'nung hasn't seen it yet — not that Neteyam really wants to show him.

Okay, maybe he does want to show Ao'nung.

The Metcayina is his mate after all, even if Neteyam didn't choose him himself. Ao'nung really wasn't that bad (Neteyam wouldn't even be pregnant right now with how willing the Metcayina had been to wait).

Yet somehow, Neteyam is fond of the little soul growing under his heart. The child would be a part of him, someone to call his own, family. By blood.

Neteyam treasures family.

He had thought that he would always live near them, and now he wasn't even given the chance to fly home for a visit. Not that he had asked to. He simply knows nobody would let him leave in this condition lest he might get injured. He can accept that.

Neteyam assumes his family would eventually come visit him — he hopes, at least. Hope dies last.

Neteyam rubs his bump, settling down comfortably on his blankets. He tugs one around himself loosely and inhales Ao'nung's lingering scent.

A gasp slips from his lips, eyes wide. Neteyam swallows thickly and presses his palm flat against his bump, caressing slowly as he feels gentle flutters.

"My baby," he whispers quietly, in absolute awe at the feeling of first movement from his child. His face breaks out in a wide smile and he covers his mouth, giggling and curling his toes.

It feels much like holding Tuk for the first time.

A soft knock alerts him to someone's presence.

"Can I come in?" Ao'nung asks, his scent drifting in before he even comes into view.

Neteyam blinks in surprise before nodding. Then, he realises that Ao'nung cannot see him. "Yes."

Ao'nung pulls the curtain aside and steps inside, an easy smile on his face. He smells stronger than usual. "You're in a good mood. I could hear you giggling from outside."

Neteyam perks up, back straightening proudly. "I felt the first movement from the baby."

Ao'nung's mouth falls open in shock, his breath feels like it has been stolen right out of his lungs.

"Ao'nung, I—" Neteyam blushes, pulling his blanket tighter around himself. Underneath the protective layer, he allows his hands to cradle the gentle swell of the bump.

Ao'nung hums. "Yes?"

"You smell good."

Ao'nung inhales sharply, pupils wide. He knows Neteyam can smell his lingering rut.