Another Chance |Ao'nung x Neteyam|

Chapter 24: Memories Bring Back Memories

Kitsme guides him along the shore, a soft smile on her face. "You remind me of my brother."

Neteyam smiles back. He's gotten used to her scars and her tendency to chatter people's ears off. "What was his name?"

"Reysle." Kitsme runs her hand down Neteyam's back, knuckles pressing into all the right spots as she does so, making the omega groan happily. "Your mate is very tall. This baby will be big."

Neteyam pouts, nose scrunching. "Yeah, I already look full-term, don't I?"

"I'd say, you look around two months further along than you really are," Kitsme hums in response, eyes trailing over his bump fondly. She trails back to her previous thoughts. "Reysle would be your age. He is younger than me."

"What was he like?" Neteyam sits down by the shore with Kitsme's help.

The young woman chuckles to herself, adjusting her hair into place. She settles down beside Neteyam and her hand immediately finds its way onto his bump, rubbing gently and coaxing purrs from the omega. "Playful and very sure of himself. He had not presented yet when the sky people found us."

"How long ago was that?" Neteyam asks quietly, voice a mere whisper.

Kitsme's expression dims. "Almost ten years ago."

Neteyam stares out at the large, blue ocean waters and nods.

"He will always be my sweet little brother," Kitsme mutters, jaw tense. "I see him in you, I hope you don't mind."

"No," Neteyam whispers, taking her hand in his. "I don't."

Kitsme tells Neteyam stories about Reysle; he had been a little different than the people of her clan, smaller, born too early and almost passing before his first-breath ceremony. The longer she talks about him, the softer her eyes would become, glossing over until she remembers something funny Reysle had done; Neteyam doesn't tell her, but he secretly thinks that Reysle is much more similar to Lo'ak than himself.

Eventually, time comes for them to part. Kitsme helps Neteyam to his feet; the omega doesn't mind being coddled by her. "Do you think they will attack again? It has been two moons."

Neteyam glances towards the sky, watching the eclipse settle slowly. "They want my family and I dead for something my father had done before my birth."

"Toruk Makto did nothing wrong," Kitsme yelps, eyes wide. "Those demons would try to kill his children solely because he wanted to protect the people? Have they no god or goddess to guide them?"

"They have gods and goddesses," Neteyam mumbles, shaking his head. He walks towards his marui hand in hand with Kitsme. "But they commit crimes in the name of their deities."

Kitsme's brows furrow and she squeezes his hand gently. "Eywa would never let us commit such cruelty. Not against others, but certainly not our own people."

Neteyam doesn't argue with her, knowing what Kitsme's been through. He does, however think, that Ronal managed to go against Eywa with her actions. "Sometimes, all we can do is accept what happened."

"How could I ever learn to accept this suffering?" Kitsme demands, voice terribly quiet and strained, as though invisible hands are choking her.

Neteyam is no stranger to death. He places a hand on her shoulder and rubs lightly to calm her down. "I have experienced similar things as you have. I have come to understand that time heals all wounds, though some scar. We must move on, or we'll be stuck in our own cruelty, replaying over and over what we view as another's wrong doings."

Kitsme's eyes lower to his chest and Neteyam doesn't shrink away from the questions shining in her eyes. "What did they do to you?"

"They shot me." Neteyam's voice is quiet, expression simple and open. "I couldn't walk for a while."

Kitsme swallows and looks down at her feet, shuffling them in the sand. Neteyam doesn't know when they stopped walking.

"I was held captive," he admits eventually, letting his deepest secrets reveal themselves to her. "First, when I was eighteen. Then, again, when I was twenty and twenty-one."

Kitsme dares to ask. "What happened?"

"The first time, they only wanted to lure my father to them," he explains, caressing his stomach slowly. "I was simply tied up, but the second time, they put me in this machine, something they had just invented. It replicated tsaheylu. They wanted to look into my head, but the machine conflicted with my DNA, as it was made for pure na'vi, not someone like me, mixed with my father's human DNA."

Kitsme shudders, hugging herself tightly. She suddenly seemed so much smaller than her real height. Neteyam pulls her into his side, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. She welcomes the touch, resting her hand on his bump in return. "I cannot imagine that."

"When I was twenty-one, they captured me during a heat."

Kitsme tenses, wide, pale blue eyes staring up into Neteyam's.

Neteyam swallows, exhaling deeply. "They didn't do anything, but they would pretend that they would. I broke out by myself, but I was there for nearly two weeks. I think they didn't do anything because their boss was busy trying to kill my father."

Silently, Kitsme hugs him for a while before they make their way into Neteyam's marui. Ao'nung is there, sharpening his hunting knife. He greets them both, sensing the delicate swirl of emotions radiating off them.

Kitsme bids them goodnight and leaves with one last caress to Neteyam's bump.

Ao'nung stands, fiddling with his hands for a moment before reaching into his pouch. "I made something for you."

Neteyam tilts his head and steps closer, watching the alpha. "What did you make, little mermaid?"

Ao'nung scrunches his nose at the nickname but tugs out delicate string of white shells and holds them up for the omega to see.

Neteyam's lips part in a silent gasp. "What is that?"

"I'm not sure it has a name," Ao'nung admits. "But I created it so you can include it in one of your braids. I dyed the seagrass-string to match your hair."

Carefully, Neteyam takes the small collection of shells from Ao'nung's hand and rubs his thumb over one of the white shells. "Will you braid it in for me?"

Ao'nung swallows, stomach a wild fluttering mess, but he nods anyway. He isn't too bad at braiding, having been eager to learn to do his sister's hair for her since early childhood. "Of course."

They sit down on Neteyam's blankets, facing one another. Neteyam reaches up to bring one of his tiny braids forward. He unties the end and swiftly works on undoing it. Ao'nung waits patiently, watching the dark-blue fingers work, precise and sure. His eyes would trail down to Neteyam's bump every few seconds, pure love shining through them that scares Neteyam a little.

He wants to hold a grudge; he wants to hate Ao'nung for just a little longer, but he finds that he cannot. On days he doesn't see much of the heir, Neteyam finds himself missing him.

"Here you go," Neteyam murmurs, handing over the string of shells.

Ao'nung hums, but otherwise doesn't say anything, simply reaching up and section the small piece of hair into three parts, securing the end of the string to the top near Neteyam's scalp. Silently, he works along the strand of hair, smiling in satisfaction when the gift does what it was destined to do.

Neteyam cradles his stomach, a flush tainting his cheeks as he smiles shyly down at his hands.